#or with them winning because new who is just more widely known

[companion-showdown-dot-org]

okay, heres the thing, at the moment, theres one vote in this, if theres still one vote in it by the end, i'm tempted to call it a tie and probably will. the problem is, becuase of the way I break ties, ie everyone not automatically in the next round as a group, thats inherently going to favour Kate since she'll be the only new who character in the group, so everyone who only knows new who will vote for her, while classic who votes are going to be split, so, I don'k know what to do about that

Who deserves to do well in a tournament for once?

TOURNAMENT MASTERPOST

[kisssukuna33]

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who always have you over at his house the night before an important match. It helps with the stress he says.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who always put on a TV show before you two settle into the couch for cuddles. Usually the cuddling session is a mix of him relaxing against you as you ask him questions about the match tomorrow.

"You packed an extra pair of shorts this time right? Remember what happened last time"

"yeah I did"

"Did you iron the clothes?"

"Uraume took care of it"

"That new protein shake your nutritionist recommended, Did you take it?"

"Already did"

"What about snacks during the game tomorrow? did Uraume-

"oh my god baby relax, it's all taken care of"

He says in somewhat of an annoyed tone as he pulls you even closer to his chest, tightening his grip around you. But deep down he loves it when you are concerned about him like this.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who insists that having a good time before the match tomorrow isn't a problem to him but you reject the offer firmly because you know how Sukuna gets whenever you two started something.

It always ends up dragging for hours so no, your bf needs his beauty sleep for tomorrow.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who pouts slightly when you say no to him but decides to settle with the short make out session instead, better than nothing he thinks.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who teasingly steals few touches from your sensitive areas, clearly trying to rile you up but stops after seeing the glare you gave him.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who never seems to be the type to get much nervous before matches. Because of his Overconfidence? His never ending Ego? maybe. But his ability to stand strong in situations like this always makes your heart flutter.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who always makes sure you get the best VIP seat to his match, You always need to be in the front lines where he can see you from clearly when he beat up his opponent back to his ancestors.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who always find a way to bring you up in the Media press. Sukuna is widely known by the audience for being a down bad "simp" for his girlfriend as well as a complete disaster for his opponents.

"Mr Ryomen, Do you know there's a whole talk in the internet about you being a simp for your girlfriend? What do you have to say to people who spread things like that?"

"Keep spreading the truth I guess. The internet definitely needs it more"

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who hurries back to his changing room and jumps straight into your arms. Despite your constant nagging for him to get patched up first.

"Baby did you saw the jab-cross I threw before he hit the ground?"

"Yeah it was Amazing Ryo!"

"I did good than the last match, didn't I?"

"Yeah you always do"

"Then I deserve way more than that cheap kiss you gave me earlier don't I?"

"Get patched up first you freak, Uraume's waiting"

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who lets you both into his house as he holds your waist with one arm. He let go of your waist as he makes his way for the bathroom while murmuring something about showering first.

As he started to shower you turn on the tv with the intention of seeing the live match you saw today in the digital screen. And it immediately cuts to a interview Sukuna did just right after winning.

Boxerbf Sukuna! Who seems enthusiastic as ever talking to the reporters about the match he finished and the opponent he defeated. Not long after he adds a little appreciation from his part.

"My manager Uraume helped me with a lot of stuff so I truly appreciate them. Also my girlfriend stayed up beside me every night when I practiced and supported me in everything, this win is hers as much as it is mine."

"if you're watching this I love you baby"

A warm feeling start to take over your chest as you hear his words. The man who's appreciated and idolized by millions saying these things so casually to you, you still can't get your mind around it.

Then the reporter use his luck to ask a risky question one more time.

"it's look like you two have a great relationship together, what do you think about marriage Mr Ryomen?"

To that question Sukuna doesn't respond but instead returns a well knowing little grin as he waves off the interview.

"Tch why did they ruin the moment by asking that, now it looks like he doesn't want to marry me" you said to yourself.

Just as you were about to leave to the kitchen to grab a snack, something shining inside the closet that Sukuna forgot to shut earlier catches your eyes.

Hidden by the cloth piles it was a little jewelry box that had familiar initials on top of it.

It was none other than yours and Sukuna's.

Wait..

No that can't be, Yeah maybe this is the earrings he wanted to give you before.

But much to your surprise the box opened up to reveal a gorgeous wedding ring. A big diamond you sure costed atleast 5 six figures alone sitting on top of it. Inside the ring you and Sukuna's initials were carved into it making it seem even more special to your eyes.

Your heart is jumping from excitement and happiness, everything about your life is starting to get better and better and you can't help but thank Sukuna for it.

You don't want to ruin the surprise he planned for you of course. So you put the box back to it's place and sit on the bed till he's done showering patiently but the stupid smile you had since earlier didn't left your face for once.

"Alright I'm done showering let's slee- what's with you?"

"What's with me? nothing Ryo"

"You're are smiling very creepily woman"

"Ryo that's mean! My smile is not creepy!"

"Yeah whatever come here, freak"

Sukuna says as he drags you closer to his side of the bed while turning off the bedside lamp at the same time. Your bodies intertwine with each other like it was always meant to be. Sukuna's hands wrapping around you as he buries his face into your neck.

"Ryo?"

"hmm"

"I love you"

You can feel a small smile tugging at his lips.

"I love you too princess, more than anything"

Boxing Kuna is my favorite <33

No grammar checks though sorry :/

[ghostaholics]

fuck it i'm thinking about grump x sunshine trope and a neighbor au with ghost where he's known for being the building's loner-tenant, this brute bear of a man that keeps to himself.

nobody's ever seen him smile or caught a glimpse of the entirety of his face because he always wears a black surgical mask when he's going to and from his flat; nobody's ever had a full-length conversation with him, because true to his callsign, he's in and out of the building with as much silence and stealth as a ghost. the other residents gossip about him: the water-cooler talk usually goes along the lines of them trying to piece together his story, who he is, what he looks like, whether they should be worried about the fact that he lives there (because there's nothing wrong with being a recluse but he does give off slightly terrifying vibes due to his size and demeanor). the rumor mill’s churning out these outlandish ideas about his private life and they kind of make assumptions based on little things they’ve noticed about him since he’s started living there.

enter in his new neighbor who's never met him, but was advised on her move-in day that he doesn't interact much with the other residents, basically a light debrief on how he can come off as cold and aloof and while some people have made attempts in the past to greet him, they’ve been dissuaded by his general standoffishness and avoidance of any social interaction.

anyways, simon wakes up at odd times throughout the night because he's got the most fucked sleeping schedule from deployment; he can start his day anywhere from 4am, 6pm, and so forth but on one particular morning, he's up at 3:30am, ready to go out for a jog of all things at this hour and then in the hall, he runs into his cute neighbor who's holding this also equally cute german shepherd puppy in her arms; his reaction consists of slowly blinks and a blank expression because he doesn’t quite know what to make of the sight in front of him

and she's staring back at simon with wide, frightened eyes not because she finds him intimidating or anything of that nature (honestly she doesn’t really give two shites about what the others say about him) but because the landlord has a severe and well-known, no-pets policy so she's been sneaking the puppy outside to use the bathroom in creative ways (one of them being at a time where she's certain none of the other tenants are awake) – she's basically been caught red-handed and fuck she's not sure if he's the type to snitch so all she can really say is:

❝ You didn't see anything. ❞

to which he deadpans,

❝... Sure. ❞

because he’s really just trying to mind his own business and not get involved, ducks his head before shouldering past her in the corridor to get outside – he tells himself he can’t bring himself to care about this new development

however, she's not entirely confident that he's going to make good on his word, so she bakes these cookies (special recipe of hers that she’s hopeful will win him over), leaves them in front of his door as a bribe with a card that says please don’t get me evicted ♡ on the inside, which seemed like an excellent plan in theory until he shows up the next day with an empty plate, a very real, very genuine request for more, and a serious demand to see the german shepherd that’s trying to squirm its way out the door to greet simon

edit: love thy neighbor masterlist

[cloudywriting05]

one of your girls. — coriolanus snow.

we dont gotta be in love, no. i don’t gotta be the one, no. i just wanna be one of your girls tonight.

part two published, read here.

cw: dom!coryo, p in v, Bondage, vulgar language, pain during sex, daddy kink, slight sadism(?), 18+, slight non-con, etc

words: 3048 [good, GOD], MAY be grammar errors.

tags: @euphemiaamillais my lovely lady.

“Hey, Snow.” 

The blonde boy snapped his head at you, a stern look plastered to his face. You watched his eyes travel up and down your figure, his expression softened as a small smile crept on his face. He turned his body to face you and sighed.

You and Coriolanus’s relationship was unique, to say the least. You’ve known each other your entire life but dedicated your every day to one-upping each other. Your decade-long academic rivalry with him was something you found deeply annoying, and you knew if he wasn’t as attractive as he was, you would’ve killed him by now. Coriolanus found the rivalry thrilling. Watching you stress and work out to get the best grade was entertaining for him. On the days he was lucky, you would be in the library at the same time as him, searching for textbooks to grab before the other could. The number of times he caught himself peering down at your small figure, bent over, frantically digging through piles of chemistry books was criminal. 

The new school year had just begun, and you were instantly bombarded with strange rumours. Rumours about Coriolanus, more specifically, his dick. He’d allegedly slept with half of the grade’s female population, including your own friends. You rebuffed them initially, that was until you overheard the said ‘girls’ discussing it, confirming it all. You were annoyed, absolutely livid at the thought of Coriolanus sleeping with them. Why did he leave you out? Was this something else he was showing you that you could never get? Whatever he was doing was working. Fucking your entire friend group but purposely dodging you was a smart move on his behalf. But you were never a loser, never second place.

So here it brought you. Standing in front of your arch nemesis with your arms crossed. 

“Could I help you, gorgeous?” he purred, raising an eyebrow. 

“You’re a slut, Snow. Fucking all my friends is pretty corny, don’t you think?” you remarked, running a finger down the locker beside him. 

He looked at you, guilt written across his face. “I’m not a slut, little girl. And who told you that?” 

“Everyone. Everyone is talking about you and your dick, Coriolanus.”

“I got busy over the holidays. Who knew Academy girls could be so desperate for my dick?” he sneered, smiling to himself. 

“So why did you do it?” 

“Do what?” he asked, puzzled.

“Fuck everyone but me? Were you trying to tick me off? If so, it worked, Snow.”

He let out a laugh, completely bewildered. “Are you high? What are you trying to get at?”

“Did I stutter? You fucked every girl in my friend group but me, even though I should’ve been the first. Now, because you decided to fucking skip me, I have to hear about how freaky you are, or how big your dick is all day!” you blurted, your frustration getting by the absolute best of you as his nonchalant demeanor sent you over the edge. 

“So, let me get this straight; you’re angry at me because I didn’t fuck you?” he questioned, eyes wide, trying to comprehend what was coming out of your mouth.

You stuttered for a second. “Yes, yes I am.”

“We played sandbox together and here you are now, in this empty hallway, begging me to fuck you,” he said as he fixed his uniform.

“Oh, so you don’t wanna fuck me?” you purred, your arms crossed, looking up at him. 

“Just to piss you off, no I don’t. Doesn’t matter how hot I think you are, or how long I’ve wanted to for this to happen. I like seeing you mad.” he smiled, knowing he had ticked you off. “I’ll see you in bio, little girl.”

He spoke as he walked away. Your eyes twitched in anger; Snow could not win. Not today. 

“Fine, I’ll just ask Plinth!” your words stopped him right in his tracks.

He turned and stalked towards you, stopping only a few inches in front of you. He glared down into your eyes. “If you fuck Sejanus, I’ll kill you both and make it look like an accident.” 

You scoffed. “Would you, actually? I don’t know. All I know is that I want you at my house by eleven thirty. If you’re as good as one of the girls was vouching you were, then prove it. Or I’ll get one of your friends to, just to make it even.”

“You win, I’ll see you there, doll.”

It was eleven-twenty on the dot and there was still no sign of Coriolanus. You’d pondered about the interaction from today for hours, worried you came off too demanding. You thought to yourself for a while that he was going you stand you up and purposely not come, that would’ve sent you over the edge. You sat on your bed, every negative thought running through your head. Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sound of frantic knocking. 

You rushed downstairs and stood in front of the door. “Who is it?”

“Is that a joke?” Coriolanus spoke from the other side of the door. “Let me in, sweetheart. I’m freezing.” 

You flung the door open, Coriolanus stood there, a smile plastered to his face. He sported a worn-out shirt that was fitted, hugging his chest. He paired it with pajama pants with a red pattern and slides that looked like they should’ve never left his house. He walked right past you into your home. “You look like you’re about to go to sleep, couldn’t dress sexier?” 

“I mean it’s gonna come right off, isn’t it?”

“Whatever, my room is upstairs and the first to your right.” 

“Perfect.” 

You watched the boy jog up the stairs and disappear behind the wall, following him shortly after. 

You entered the room to him sitting on the bed, using his arms to sit up behind him. You closed the door behind you without breaking eye contact. You could physically feel the tension in the room, his entire demeanor shifting from minutes ago. You felt almost chilled. 

He lifted himself from the edge of your bed and walked towards you, stopping himself only when his face was inches from yours. “Did one of the girls ever tell you what I did to them?”

You shook your head. “No, I don’t think.”

“I’ll have to show you, won't I?” he purred, his hand traveling up from your side to your chin.

“Yeah, I guess.” 

His hand landed on your cheek, taking you by surprise. You gasped as his hand returned to your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes. “Stupid girl. You wanted me to treat you like your friends, right? They didn’t talk, so why should you?”

You should’ve walked away; you should’ve told him to get out. The boy who defined your entire academy life just slapped you in the face and degraded you, yet your entire body yearned for his touch. You stared into his eyes, they were glistening, wild with power and lust. His blonde hair dimly lit by the streetlight peering through your window into your dark, cold room. You needed to get even; you needed him to fuck you to get even. You needed him inside of you and in that moment, you didn’t care if it was the last thing you did that night. 

“Tell me what you want me to do to you, now,” he demanded, his grip on your chin tightening as he forced you to look up at him, helpless.

You shook under his touch, completely powerless. “I- I want you to fuck me, Coryo.”

He lowered his head, resting his lips against your ear, sending a cold shiver down your spine and straight to your heat. “Say it louder, so everyone in the Capitol knows how much of a dumb, little slut you are for me. Say it.”

“I want you to fuck me because I’m a slut... for you.” you proclaimed, your voice projected as he breathed against your cheek, his grip on your chin still tight.

“Pathetic, but good enough,” he replied, he released your chin and moved himself away from you slightly. “Get on the bed and strip for me, now.”

You nodded dumbly, crawling onto the bed. You lifted your shirt over your head and tossed it on the ground beside you, removing your pants and underwear right after. You sat there idly, completely bare, whilst a clothed Coriolanus stood in front of you, fucking you with his gaze. His eyes traveled up and down your frame, admiring you.

He raised a hand and began to caress your cheek; you instinctively nuzzled your face into his palm causing him to softly laugh. “The smartest and prettiest girl in the academy, sitting naked waiting for me to fuck her like a good girl.”

He looked down on you, you were naked and nuzzling your face into his palm, inaudibly begging him to fuck you. You were desperate and it turned him on so much. The most stubborn girl he fawned over for years now naked and begging him to fuck her. He could feel his dick trying to break free from his pants just from the sight of you.

He walked away and disappeared into your open closet, leaving you clueless. He walked out with a ribbon in his hand.

“That’s my grandma's, Coryo. That’s the ribbon she gifted me. What do you need it for?” you questioned, puzzled.

“Put your back against your bed frame and stop asking me stupid questions. Sluts with dirty mouths like you, my dear, don’t get to talk.” 

You followed his command and shuffled up until your bare back was against the headboard, waiting patiently for his next command. You were the smartest girl at your academy yet there you were, brainlessly waiting for Snow to tell you what to do. 

He climbed onto the bed and motioned for your hand. “Give me your hands, doll.” 

You timidly raised your hand towards him. He grabbed your wrist and began to firmly tie the piece of ribbon around them, causing you to wince slightly. The thin material pressed against your skin as you looked at him, hopeless. There he had you. Your wrists tied, naked. Your knees spread exposing you. 

He took his time once again, admiring your small, fragile frame. “You look so gorgeous, let daddy see what’s between your legs better, okay?”

You nodded and spread your knees apart more, fully exposing your heat to the boy. He hovered over you, staring down at your pussy, glistening with juices. He used his hands to turn you over on your knees, your hands still restrained, using your elbows for support. 

“How many times did you speak to that bitch this week?” he inquired from behind you.

“Who? Sejanus? … Maybe three or four times, I’m not too sure–”

“Too many times. Way too many fucking times.”

You felt a hard hand land against your cheek, your back curled in pain as you threw your head between your hands. It was followed by another, causing you to cry out in pain. He slapped your ass again, and then once more. Painful groans escaped your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to ignore the pain.

“Four slaps for four conversations. Turn over and spread your legs a bit more for me, okay?” 

You dumbly followed, still wincing in pain. You turned yourself onto your back and spread your legs as far as you could, quivering and vulnerable. Coriolanus watched, entranced by your naked body. You looked at the boy, gawking at you. His hand grabbed your tied wrists and lifted them above your head. The boy then moved his head between your knees, planting a kiss on your knee, then on your inner thigh. He peered up at you, your pussy throbbing and yearning for his touch.

“Please, I can’t take it. Touch me,” you begged, your voice timid, scared of the boy between your thighs.

“Say please.”

“Please, please?”

“Good girl.” he purred, lowering his head further, you felt his nose graze your pubic bone.

His lips planted a kiss, then moved down to your folds. A moan instantly escaped your lips, your body churning at the feeling of his lips on your moist folds. Your back arched. You felt his lips move against your core, lapping at your folds. He used his tongue to press against your clit, making you cry out and heave. His arm traveled up to your breast, massaging it as his tongue lapped at your pussy. His nose pressing against you. You squirmed as he used his mouth to suck your clit, sending your eyes to the back of your head. The sensations overstimulate you, leaving you hopeless. You didn’t dare bring your arms down, knowing he wouldn’t react well.

He lifted his head from your heat for a second and peered up at you. “You taste so good, let me show you.”

He raised himself and lowered his lips onto yours. Forcing your mouth open with his, his tongue invading your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself. You moaned in his mouth, completely dumbfounded by the boy.

“Now, open your mouth,” he said, gripping onto your chin. 

You dumbly followed, letting him spit into your mouth. You swallowed without hesitation. 

“Good, you did one thing right,” he remarked, unbuttoning his pants, holding eye contact with you from above. 

He swiftly removed his pants, followed by his shirt. His body was leaner than you’d expected, his muscular frame surprising you. He hauled himself off the bed and lowered his brief, freeing his throbbing penis. You let out a small gasp. He motioned for you to come towards him, you crawled, wrists still tied, and sat on the edge of the bed in front of him. His penis right across from your face. He stared down at you.

“Look what you did to me, fix it up. Now,” he demanded.

You nodded your head as you leaned to lick his penis. You use your lips to latch onto his tip, sucking on it as you let your tongue massage it. He groaned from above you, eyes closed. Your head moving slowly to and from, his dick still in your mouth. Your tongue glided back and forth as you pleasured the boy. He threw his head back as you did everything you could to his dick with your mouth alone, you spat on it frantically as you took his cock deeper into your throat. Gagging on his dick and pushing yourself past your limit.

“Go fucking deeper, you dumb fucking slut. Treat it like you would treat some other guys. Whore.” he demanded, his hand latching onto a chunk of your hair. 

He pushed himself further down your throat, tears rolling down your eyes in return. He pumped your throat like it was your pussy, you gagged on his cock uncontrollably. Your wrists were tied in front of you, helpless as he fucked your throat. He pulled your head back with the chunk of hair. You gasped for a breath of air frantically, tears rolling down your eyes. His open palm landed against your cheek again, causing you to gasp in pain.

“When I tell you to go deeper, I mean it, slut. Aren’t you meant to be smart?” he scoffed, looking down at your frail frame. “You spent years trying to get under my fucking skin, now I’m on yours, and you don’t know how to act? Say thank you.”

“Thank you, Daddy, thank you.” you whimpered, sniffling as he shot you a smile.

“There you go, pretty girl. Turn over for me now.” 

You nodded dumbly, turning around on the edge of the bed. You used your elbows for support as you perked your backside up. The boy stared at you hungrily. You felt a slap land on your cheek again, causing you to flinch in pain. 

“You wanna feel me?” 

He watched your head bop and down in response. Within no time he prepped himself at your entrance, slowly pushing into you. You groaned into the mattress, feeling his large cock stretch your pussy. 

“Little Miss Capitol is tight, isn’t she?” he sneered.

He slowly pushed himself in, then out. You groaned as his pace picked up excruciatingly slow, every thrust filling you up. His dick stretched your walls, every bit of your pussy was filled with his cock. He gripped your hip and leaned forward, using his free hand to push your wrists further from you.

His pace quickened. His cock slung in and out of you, moaning as he slapped your ass. You didn’t flinch, distracted by the feeling of his cock. Your moans grew louder as he quickened his pace, hitting a spot within you that hadn’t known of until now. Your body quivered as you felt the boy fuck you with all his strength.

You felt his arm wrap around your throat, pulling you up and restraining your breathing. You gasped, his pace not slowing. You felt his chest against your back as he thrusts into you mercilessly. His free hand slithers to your clit, rubbing it in a circular motion. You felt your muscles wear as he continued to push into you, overstimulated beyond comprehension.

Your stomach tightened as you came, and you shrieked. Your entire body loses its balance, flailing forward on your chest. Coriolanus didn’t stop. He continued to thrust into you, your body limp in front of him. You moaned into the mattress as he fucked you whilst his hand circulated your clit. 

“I came, Coriolanus, I came!”

“I know, shut up.”

He ignored your words. Your body tightened again, this time your juices threatened to squirt out. You fought every bone in your body to not let it out. His finger still rubbing your clit as he pushed into you. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum again. I can’t, it hurts!”

“Yes, you can, you can.” He breathed from behind you.

You cried out, shamefully squirting on your bedsheets. The boy pulled his cock out and frantically massaged it until his semen shot on your back. He heaved from behind you.

“Now, you are just like the rest of the girls. I’ll see you on Monday, doll.”

—

pt2 published…. read here.

[i-dared-myself]

Brat

Mingi x reader

In which your bodyguard teaches you your place.

18+

You knew you were trouble. Your manager knew you were trouble.

Then fans, however, didn’t know you were trouble. Your reputation was that of a perfect, sweet girl.

So they all protested when you were attacked. Somehow, the assailant had found you when you wandered off from security. They had grabbed you and threatened you, and you had screamed for your life.

After that incident, your manager hired you a personal bodyguard.

His name is Mingi, and as you stare at him, you know you’ll break him.

His black hair is styled away from his face so that you have a clear view of his thick eyebrows. His full lips are pulled downwards as he listens to your manager speak.

Sure he looks fearsome enough, but you’re tougher. You’ve made three managers quit, and you work solo for a reason.

“Hello,” you say, smiling softly. Your manager stirs uneasily beside you. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Mingi nods. “The pleasure is mine. You have nothing to worry about with me around, let me assure you.”

You cross one leg over the other, adjusting your skirt. “I’m sure.” You glance back up at him, making sure to give him the wide-eyed look you’re known for. “Thank you, Mingi.”

Your manager clears his throat, standing up. “I’ll leave you to it then. He knows your address and your schedule for the next week.”

He bows before exiting the room, leaving you alone with your newest toy.

Bodyguard. 

You meant bodyguard.

“Do you want to go home now, or did you have other plans?” he asks. He gets to his feet and checks his watch.

“Mm,” you consider it, “maybe visiting a friend’s house.”

Minho’s eyes narrow slightly. “I wasn’t made aware of any of your friends getting cleared yet.”

You shyly duck your head. “I- I’m just so scared and want them to c-comfort me.”

Mingi rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “Nah. We’re not doing that.”

You straighten. “Excuse me?”

Mingi pushes the door open, propping it with his foot. “Let’s go. I’m bringing you home.”

You stand up with a huff. “But-“ 

“But what?” Mingi arches an eyebrow challengingly. “You want to be kidnapped? Because I can guarantee it won’t be the cushy life you love.”

You swallow back any attempts to scream at him, because you can still do this. There are many more chances to win.

So you force a delicate smile and follow after him. He leads you to your car, where the driver is waiting. Mingi climbs into the back with you and immediately brings out his phone.

You do the same, texting your friend about how annoying this man is. Who does he think he is?

“Hey,” Mingi suddenly says. “Buckle up.”

“What?” You look up with a crease in your forehead. 

“Your seat belt.” He motions to it with a heavy sigh. 

“It’s fine.” You return your attention to your phone. You’ve never died in the car before, which meant you would be fine this time.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Mingi reaches over to grab the seat belt, pulling it over you. It clicks into place before he retracts his hand.

You sneer a little bit at him, but stare out the window. It’s not worth it to snap now.

You’ll bide your time and break him, no matter how long it takes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wiggle your fingers out at your fans as you walk. Mingi is close behind on your heels, and you can sense the anger radiating off him.

You might have promised to stay by his side, only to run off the moment he looked away. He had found you, but was not very pleased with you.

You had made the last week of his life as terrible as possible. Spilling coffee on him, only to bat your eyes innocently. Staying up all night and going for walks, knowing he would have to go with you.

In short, you could tell Mingi was growing to despise you. He would eventually quit, and then you could go back to your carefree life of freedom.

“Is there a new album coming soon?” someone screams, voice cracking at the end. 

You turn to their general vicinity, smiling widely. “Not officially, but…”

They all squeal in excitement, and you laugh under your breath as you keep walking. Mingi is still behind you, silently watching.

You make it to the stage, climbing the stairs as carefully as you can. Your heels are tall- taller than most that you had worn.

Mingi lingers near the base of the stairs, arms crossed over his chest. His eyebrows are pulled together as he surveys the crowd, jaw set.

You walk over to the other idols, smoothing out the fabric of your skirt. It’s not often that you work with others, but this time you want to try your best.

Maybe because of the male idol that was exactly your type.

Sharp jawline and eyes you could get lost in. He glances over to flash you a cheery smile, and you immediately fall into place by his side.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he says. He tells you his name but you’re too distracted by his beauty to remember it.

The emcee for the event begins to talk, preventing you from any other conversation with this man. This man that you totally would’ve fucked.

And so the rest of it goes by, and you all file off the stage. Mingi immediately follows you.

You and the hot man.

Then you’re out of the public eye, in a hallway in the staff only section. 

“Would you like to eat something with me?” he asks, eyes locked on your face. 

You nod shyly. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Mingi clears his throat and leans down over your shoulder. “The hotel has room service. We’ll be using that.”

“Ignore him,” you tell the man. “This is my bodyguard, who’ll leave us alone for dinner.”

Mingi chuckles, and the low sound sends shivers down your spine. “Actually, we have to go back now.”

Mingi grips your forearm firmly and steers you away. You cast the hot man one last longing look before he’s out of sight.

“What are you doing?” you demand, ripping yourself away. You glower at him furiously, standing up to your full height.

“My job,” he answers simply. He checks his phone, uninterested. “Let’s go. The car is waiting.”

You scowl and lift your chin defiantly. “No. I don’t want to go back yet.”

Mingi slips his phone back into his pocket. “Well I do.”

You narrow your eyes. “It doesn’t matter what you want. I want to go back and have dinner with him.”

Mingi’s lower lips rolls into his mouth as he considers it. Then he smirks, cocking his head. “If you tell me what his name is, I’ll let you go back. I’ll even give you a condom if you need it.”

You glare at him. Him and his stupid face. “Joon.”

He laughs, lowly enough that your stomach clenches. “Wrong. Now come on.”

You reluctantly trail after him. The car ride to the hotel is short, but feels longer than it is. Your eyes keep getting drawn to the man sprawled across the seats opposite you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next week goes by as roughly as the last. For every move you make, Mingi is there.

You don’t talk to him much. You feign innocence when you trip him. Every time you’re late for an appointment and your manager scolds Mingi, you smile from behind your hands.

“Done for the day,” your manager says as you put your pen down. “The signing is over and they’re all going to the exit.”

Your chair scrapes on the ground as you push it away, standing up. “Where’s Mingi?”

Your manager sighs. “Bathroom.” His phone buzzes in his pants and he holds up a hand. “Excuse me.”

You grin as he walks away, already planning how to spend your evening. You dart out the doors, eager to finally get laid. It’s been forever, and it felt like it would never come with Mingi constantly around.

You take a deep breath of the fresh air, the world seeming somehow brighter without Mingi by your side. There’s so much to do, and so little time.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You whip around, eyes wide with alarm. “What-“

Mingi is leaning against the wall, one ankle crossed over the other. He pushes himself off it to stalk towards you, a wide grin on his lips and a dark look in his eyes.

“Mingi!” you exclaim as he grabs your arm. He yanks you out to where your car is waiting. “What are you doing?”

He ignores you, telling the driver to go to your home.

You wiggle, attempting to break free of his hold. “Mingi!”

He puts the divider up, so the driver can’t see. Then he tugs you into his lap and pins your wrists to your front.

“Finally gonna teach you a lesson,” he murmurs into your ear. “That’s what you’ve been hoping for, yeah?”

You freeze, his words sinking in. “What?”

Mingi moves you so you’re straddling one of his thighs. “When we get back, I’m going to bend you over my knee like I’ve been wanting to for weeks, brat.”

Your brain falters for a second. “Really?”

“Someone sounds eager.” He bounces his leg and you squirm as it makes contact with you. “Are you a needy brat, or is it just because I didn’t let you fuck that man?”

“You fucking-“ You cut yourself off with an angry mutter of more curse words.

Mingi shoves two of his fingers into your mouth, hushing you softly. “Watch that mouth. We’re almost home, and then I’ll teach you a proper lesson.”

When you finally enter your house, Mingi stands there patiently. You stare at him, unsurely if what to do next.

“Well?” Mingi walks over to your couch before stretching out on it. “Are you gonna undress or not?”

You hurry to take your jacket off, flinging it to the side. It’s quickly followed by the rest of your clothes before you scramble to Mingi.

His hand comes out to stop you, and he scoffs.

“You think you’ve earned it?” He leans back and spreads his legs. “Come on, brat, do better.”

You sink to your knees and press your face to him. To the growing erection in his pants.

“Ah, you want this?” Mingi loops his fingers through your hair and wrenches your head back. “But I don’t think you’ve been good enough for it. You’re not good enough for cock.”

You whine. “But-“

He clicks his tongue disapprovingly and looks away. “Really? You’re going to argue with me?”

“N-No,” you say. You shake your head. “No, I’ll be good, I promise.”

Mingi sighs and turns his hooded gaze to your face. “Then you better count, and I mean properly. If you lose track, we’re starting over.”

You nod and fist at his shirt. “Right!”

His hands go around your waist and pull you over your lap. Mingi hums as he kneads at your ass, rubbing into the bare skin. 

“I think ten should do it,” he mutters. “Think you can handle it?”

“Yes,” you instantly respond. “Please just- Just do something already!”

Mingi pauses, hand lifted above your ass. “You know your colour system?”

“Yes,” you breathlessly answer. You squirm a little bit, and that’s when the first strike comes down. You lurch with the impact, barely remembering to count. “One!”

“I said count properly,” Mingi hisses out. “Did that sound proper to you?”

You desperately try to think of what’s missing. “One… out of ten?”

Mingi ‘tsks’ and lays another hit down on you. You moan softly and clutch at the fabric of his pants.

“The count doesn’t start until you do it right,” he says, stroking your hair. It’s a tender action that honestly makes you swoon more than anything else. “Think, brat.”

You rack your mind for any hint or clue of what he might want. Another smack comes down, and you whine.

“One, sir!” you yelp.

Mingi sighs in satisfaction. “There you go.”

The rest of them go by, and he’s hitting just as hard as the start. You’re fairly certain you won’t be able to sit for a week, and judging by the smug look on his face, he knows it too.

“Please, sir!” You claw at him once he’s finished. “Just fuck me!”

He laughs and stands up. You tumble off his lap and fall to the floor, staring up at him desperately.

“You really think that made up for all the torment?” Mingi questions. He rakes a hand through what used to be neatly styled hair. “And you didn’t even thank me for it. Tch.”

“Thank you, sir!” you amend, adding a pleading look to your eyes for good measure. “I’ll be so good, I promise!”

“No more spilling coffee on me?” Mingi rolls up his sleeves.

“No more,” you promise.

“You’ll listen to my instructions?” Mingi places his hands on his hips and looks down at you.

“Absolutely!” you vow.

Mingi hums for a moment. “Fine. I assume a needy little brat like you doesn’t need lube? You’re dripping already, aren’t you?”

You swallow thickly. “Maybe.”

“I want proper words,” he scolds, an edge to his tone. “Proper consent, and proper respect.”

“I want you to fuck me, please, sir.” You lick at your lips. You shuffle closer on your knees. “I’ve been so good!”

Mingi forces your head down to the ground, grabbing at your hips. He’s still fully clothed, and you can feel his pants as he grinds against you.

“No more flirting with other men.” You can hear the buckle of Mingi’s belt being undone. “I only fuck good little things. Not bratty sluts.”

You shiver at his words. “I- I’m all yours. All for you.”

Then he sinks into you, and the sudden intrusion makes you whimper. Your fingers dig at the floor, and your eyes squeeze shut.

“Just take it,” Mingi whispers softly. His hand cards through your hair affectionately. “I’ll stay like this until you’re ready.”

You take a breath before pushing back at him. It’s been so long since you’ve been stretched out like this, and it’s so good.

“Ready?” Mingi reaches around to flick at one of your nipples. 

“Y-Yeah.” You squirm back against him. “Please, sir!”

The first thrust takes your breath away. The second makes you groan. And the third makes him moan and kiss your shoulder.

“Feel good?” He rolls his hips into you. You make an unintelligible noise from the back of your throat.

“Feels so good,” you tell him. “You’re so good to me.”

“Fuck yeah I am,” Mingi says confidently. “You’re lucky I didn’t just leave you. I have a feeling you’re going to be spoiled.

You snort before your eyes roll back when he hits that spongy spot. “S-Sure.”

Mingi suddenly flips you over. His arms come down on either side of you to cage you in before he captures your lips with his own.

You arch up to meet him, biting at his lower lip.

“You brat!” He grips your chin tightly and forces your head away. “You said you would behave!”

“I am!” you whine. Although you mumble out a string of apologies when he pins you down with a firm look. “Sorry, sir.”

“Make it up to me with a pretty orgasm.” Mingi pecks at your forehead before toying with your clit. “How does that sound? A nice little orgasm before I fill you up?”

You can’t tell if you’re trying to get closer to him, or further away. But the sounds you’re making are definitely positive.

“I’ll drip out of you for days.” He presses harder at your clit. “Everyone will know you’re mine, especially that fucking Joon.”

You cum with a strangled cry, squeezing tightly around him. Mingi works you through it with continuous thrusts before tipping his head back as he follows your lead.

“I knew his name was Joon,” you mutter furiously, minutes later as he’s cleaning you up.

Mingi chuckles and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “All your dirty tricks deserved one of my own.”

[milessunflowers]

Hey! I was wondering if you'd like to do a fic for male!fashion designer!reader and Lewis Hamilton? Like, reader is a really elite and prestigious fashion designer whose first ever collection was really famous because of his innovative ideas and immaculate skill. One day, reader decides to sponsor a rookie Lewis Hamilton because he both really likes him and also resonates with Lewis's story. So Lewis basically becomes an ambassador for reader's brand and they both become exceedingly famous (Lewis for his championships and reader for his increasingly elaborate and meaningful designs). The two of them grow closer before eventually they end up in a relationship.

Thank you!!

wait i am kind of living for this

lewis hamilton x designer!male!reader

synopsis: you both started out young, growing famous together and closer than either of you ever thought

author's note: this is just like such a wholesome and adorable thing to write for and i am so here for it. i loved being creative with it and like this is a perfect pairing. as always, feel free to keep requesting!

you always knew what you wanted to do

like day one, you begged your parents to get you a sketch book to sketch you ideas and designs

you go to design school and everything when you're older

you become widely known and soon, you sponsor rookie lewis (who is the same age as you)

you continue to rise up in you lines as lewis starts drawing in attention from viewers as he begins to win and out drive other drivers

you and him become close friends, spending a lot of time together

lewis constantly wears your brand to the paddock and shows it off

and then everyone is asking what brand it is and he's just like "oh my friend..."

you guys basically built up to fame together

you guys are the closest ever

like when he got roscoe and stuff, you were there

roscoe therefore gets the most stylish hats, sweaters, etc

for each movement lewis supports and advocates for, you design elaborate or basic yet stylish lines to help support it

those proceeds therefore go to the movements

it makes lewis fall even more in love with you

each time he wins a race, a sprint, or a world championship, you are there to celebrate first

eventually, you two finally get together

though there isn't a real distinction between when you were just friends and then together

you acted the same, still did the same things, just less awkwardly now

when lewis moves to ferrari, you are starting a new line that is kind of centered around more like italian designs and stuff

and now you are friends with alex so leo and roscoe can spend time together

TAGS! (if you want to be added, lmk!)

@op-81-lvr-reblogs, @koalapastries, @justaf1girl, @ghostking4m, @spoonfulofmilp

[lambilegs]

THE TENDER SANCTUARY BETWEEN MONSTER AND HUMAN

contains: vampire!lee, 18.5K words, cursing, graphic descriptions of blood and violence, detailed killing of animals for vampire feeding needs, lots of self-shame and existentialism about being a vampire on lee's end, lee drinking blood from reader (becomes quite sexual in nature), sexual content (so minors dni!!) (+ specifically, making out and dry humping), mentions of shooting + gun usage, injuries (+ a bullet wound described in great detail), internalized shame about kink, religious trauma, reader's genitals are spoken of but aren't referred to w/ any direct terminology

inspired by the following asks: ask #1, ask #2, ask #3, ask #4 (thank you SO much to you guys, you're the ones who really planted the seeds of this story and gave me the ideas + inspo for it mwah mwah)

soundtrack: night shift by lucy dacus, 505 by arctic monkeys, apocalypse by cigarettes after sex, k. by cigarettes after sex, romance in f minor, op. 5 by tchaikovsky, swan lake act 1, no. 5, pas de deux: ii. andante by tchaikovsky, romeo & juliet, balcony scene by tchaikovsky

divider by: @faeberrywine

taglist: @2jewelz, @sillysillyparty, @jinxvex

lee is never going to trust carter's judgement ever again. that's the first thought she has when she's suddenly yanked back into reality, into the throes of life, when she was certain that she was on the edge of death just moments ago.

she had warned him that something seemed off about this case, something bent from reality. but, just like always, he refused to believe her, claiming she was just being paranoid and there were no supernatural ongoings. but, lee felt it. the history of the family they were investigating was seeped with mystery and unexplainable occurrences. people who looked the exact same for years upon years, a tendency to only be witnessed publicly at night, an intense beauty. 

she had known something was off, and now, because of her superior's stubbornness, here she is: convulsing and writhing, tears leaking from her eyes as the daughter of the family, a woman who looked close to her age, but whom she lee suspected of being alive for two hundred and twenty three years, presses a fresh cut on her palm to lee's gun wound, intermingling their blood together. she feels the effects immediately, her body surging with an energy that soaks into her veins and drenches her nerves.

carter witnesses it all from where he was shooting the mother of the family, but to no avail. all she does is cackle, watching him with a wicked gleam in her eye. she makes no move to chase him, or attack him, which is only more unnerving. it implies that even if he gave chase, and had the advantage of her lingering at the back, she's certain she'd still win. carter seems to realize this, for his eyes are wide, desperately flicking to lee. it seems like he finally understands. 

but, it's too late. lee can feel the tight ball of anxiety wedging into her stomach as a new feeling wraps around her body, making her feel lighter and easier to move, as though her limbs no longer weigh anything, as though her bones are made of plastic. it's terrifying, and she finds herself paralyzed to the floor, overwhelmed by the flow of power beginning to push through her body.

"I didn't think you deserved to die," the woman by her side whispers, pressing a kiss to lee's cheek before slinking back to her mother.

the two women let carter and lee go, taking advantage of the vulnerable position the latter is in. lee knows that in their mercy, they're silently telling them to keep to themselves about this and that they won't be so lucky if they pursue this case again. lee hates to leave a case, especially one right at her fingertips, unresolved. but, she knows in her weakening state, body flooded by all the new sensations and unable to cope, along with the abilities both women possess, her and carter will never reasonably be able to arrest them. and even if they did, what would happen then? they'd spend an eternity in prison?

there are too many questions, and lee's mind is a bit too numb to answer all of them. and so, despite her internal protests, she lets carter wind his arm around her waist and help her stumble out of the home. it looks like any other suburban house. if only people knew.

carter insists on keeping her at his family home in the guest room, and lee knows it's not just care for a partner that's driving him, but an acute sense of guilt too. she could detect it in the shaky way he tried to explain what happened to his wife upon the two of them tripping past the threshold, bloodied and bruised.

lee doesn't exactly like it. she's appreciative, sure, but she'd prefer time away from carter after what happened. time by herself, where she can research as to what happened and if it'll result in what she fears most. she felt a change, some change, in her body, that's for certain, but a part of her weighs heavy with the desperate, bottomless hope that it's not what she thinks it is. 

she wants to deal with all of that alone. but, carter is still her boss, so she lets him bring her soup everyday, and she comes down for family dinner with him, anna and ruby. and in the evenings, she talks to ruby about the child's day. if it were under any circumstances, these conditions might be tolerable, nice even. lee doesn't exactly enjoy the constant stimulation of being around people, but here, the carters give her space due to what she's been through (not that anna even knows the whole story). so, it's not too bad. the first day, it's actually surprising to her. it's been years since she's actually had a taste of a family dinner with so much laughter and affection. not since she was a child before her ninth birthday.

on the third day, though, all of her neutrality towards the situation shatters. she wakes up with a ravenous hunger, her stomach wretched with a deep, grumbling pain from how badly she needs it. the back of her mind whispers what it is -- the answer is right there, but lee's always been good at compartmentalizing, and she practically drains that ability of its use through her denial of what she's become. 

that is, until anna comes in with her kind smiles and soft eyes, and lee nearly lunges at her. her mind is screaming for her to sink her teeth into anna's neck, grip her body and let it go pliant as she drinks and drinks. her hands are itching with it, her stomach is rumbling in desire for it, and by the time anna leaves the room, lee nearly throws up at how hard she had kept her body stiff in order to control the urge. 

she leaves that night. carter presses that she doesn't, but all it takes is for lee to say, "carter, I'm becoming what they are. it's not safe."

the firmness of her tone, or more likely, the underlying threat to his family that hides within the words, is what finally has his lips pursing. after some moments of contemplation, he nods and drives her back to her cottage.

the entire ride is torturous, and lee, very unlike herself, slams the door without a goodbye and runs into her home. 

at nighttime, it worsens. exponentially. her gums ache and bleed, and a choked sob bursts from her mouth at the sight of fangs protruding from her teeth. her nose starts capturing everything. every musky leaf amongst the trees surrounding her, every mineral and rock, every animal--

her head whips up when it's near. the blood. 

she makes her first kill that night. a rabbit, a poor creature who froze upon seeing lee leave her door. but, the hunger was too much, too consuming, lacing her body in ropes of it and tugging, too tight. on her porch, her hands rolled into fists, nails digging into her palms, her stomach sunk with guilt and horror for the urges pulsing through her. and she tried, so hard, to go back in. she almost made it, one step in. 

but, then it moves, and lee catches a whiff of the scent again. her legs move faster than she can process, and seconds later, her teeth are sinking into its small, innocent body.

that night, she can't even sleep, mind whirring with memories of what happened. the way the animal's eyes widened, flashing in the darkness, before she gripped it so brutally, biting into it. it barely even resisted, just squirming before accepting its death to lee's mouth. 

the reminder of it makes her sob into her pillow, her chest aching with the weight of what she’s done, the sin she’s committed. what's worst is the fact that her stomach no longer growls and tempts her -- it's satisfied. she's satisfied. 

she knows what she is now. logically, there's no denying it. these urges, these primitive wants -- they've never existed within her until that woman pressed their wounds together, sending their bloodstreams intermingling. she's a vampire. or if not one yet, she's becoming it. 

lee, for days, ignores the revelation, an irrational part of her hoping this is all a nightmare she'll shudder to a brutal awakening from. or that maybe these symptoms are temporary. but, the more she compulsively researches her conditions, sneaks into libraries at night to dive into literature about it (because, yes, the morning after her first kill, she found herself writhing in pain, her skin stinging from all the open windows), and observes her own behaviours, she can't ignore it. this is a part of her now, if not who she entirely is. a horrible, disgusting part she tries to ignore, she tries to shove aside as much as she can.

for months, she isolates herself, sunk into a complete abyss of melancholy and devastation over what's happened to her. she doesn't know what she'll do, how she'll cope with all of this. some days, she throws herself into books and readings, filling her mind with all the information so that she does not have to linger on the more tender, emotional and difficult parts of the situation -- a tendency she approached almost everything in life with. but, other days, when a new facet of her condition rears its ugly head, like the thought of will I outlive mom? after one of their daily phone calls, or will I watch all these people die? when carter talks to her on the phone about their coworkers, she forgoes the rationality and pretense. she cries, screams, tears at branches of trees, disgusted with what she's become and hating herself, carter, and the entire family they investigated, for that horrific day.

she even resorts to praying and reading the bible again. it only lasts a month, for that’s how long it takes for her to reconcile with the fact that she can’t convince herself of the religion even if she’s desperate to do so for the sake of an answer. but, for a while before that, she truly wonders if what she is is linked to the devil – if her mother’s warnings and skeptical tones of evil did indeed have some place in reality. for if vampires exist, maybe all of it does. and so, she prays to the god she gave up on years ago, pleading and begging for something to change. she goes back to wearing her cross, and sleeping with her bible. an irrational part of her, a part desperate to do anything to go back to how things were, even if it means sacrificing her true beliefs, hisses that maybe all this has occurred because she gave up on her faith. maybe all of this is punishment and she needs to earn forgiveness to be released from this horrific state.

but, just as before, when she was a teenager teetering on the edge of disbelief, god doesn’t answer her. and it doesn’t take long for her to lose her hope in him again.

she continues feeding. she soon learns that she needs to do it every three days, lest her body become a rotted vessel for broken reservations and pure instinct. and so, she shamefully lurks in the woods on those days, kills an animal, and uses it to satisfy herself. she whispers an apology to the animal each time. she hopes the practice will help her retain some sense of humanity, a bit more of control.

in a matter of months, she's back to her life before the incident. well, not entirely so, but enough to keep her satisfied. she no longer visits the bureau unless it's at nighttime, and in the daytime, she works on cases from the shadows of her home, only dimly lit by lamps. her and carter spend many long hours reviewing cases and witnesses together at bars or his home, and they only explore places in relation to a case after nightfall. all of this is something lee grasps onto desperately – the normalcy of work, as well as having something less existentialist to devote her attention and skills to, is akin to a cool sip of water on a hot, suffocating day.

what surprises her most is how much she misses the pump of people, of life. she's never enjoyed being in crowds, and has always preferred her solitude, only talking to people when it's necessary of her or when it'd be disrespectful not to. but, having the choice removed from her, being left with no option other than visiting the bureau when the amount of people there is cut by half, being so much more restricted in her interactions from all the late-night grocery runs and unoccupied spaces she visits, feels off. after a while, she actually misses the buzz of people around her, of having faces and bodies to observe. she hated being subjected to conversation, yes, but it was always somewhat comforting to have the option of doing so, especially in the rare moments of longing for something more than herself. maybe a companion.

carter urges her on the one night she confesses to missing going places less isolated, smacking her back and telling her she's young (a sentiment that makes a small part of her stab with hurt, knowing she most likely won't be aging now), and ought to go out and enjoy some night life. when lee asks what constitutes as night life, already having a tentative, and frankly, unappealing, idea of it in mind, carter does nothing to ease her suspicions by saying, "you know, bars, clubs."

which is how lee finds herself exiting a club later that night after a mere half an hour inside, her mouth twisted in disgust over how pungent it smelled in there. she rubs her neck, eyes observing down the rest of the street, trying to capture any sign of life within the other shops. she shortly gives up, walking to a creaking table and chair outside a convenience store still lit up, sitting there and pulling out a book from her backpack.

despite everything, the moment gives her some relief. the quiet of the night, not completely removed from humanity with the hoots and howls coming from drunk inhabitants of the club, the low thrum of music pounding from the building, and the murmurs of conversation from people still lingering upon the pavement, up for whatever reason. if lee listens closely enough, she can capture the content of distanced conversations, but she refrains from doing so for privacy's sake.

"hey."

her eyes snap up, widening at the sight of you. whoever you are, lee's sure the two of you have never met, and her eyes flick away hesitantly before returning your greeting. "hi."

"are you here alone?"

her eye twitches at the question, suspicions immediately swimming in her mind. "yes."

you sit yourself opposite to her, and lee tenses up. she's not sure who you are, and she knows better than to trust a random stranger making conversation with her. she watches you, awaiting some sort of explanation. 

"I just came from the club," you explain, thumb jutting in the direction of it. "it was kind of overwhelming, I needed some air."

"okay.” it’s a sensible explanation. but, it doesn’t account for why needing some air includes sitting with a stranger. “why talk to me, though?"

you flinch, but lee doesn’t apologize. it's a valid question for her to ask, considering you're strangers. and it's not rude, it's simply honest. but, still, the twist of your mouth has her feeling a twinge of regret for how bluntly she worded it. she always struggles with that.

"well, I don't know, you seemed kind of alone out here, and I just thought you might like some company." your gaze drifts from her, head ducking down momentarily before lifting back to her. "did you?"

"not really." lee places her book on the table. at this point in the night, after the torture she endured in the club, she had been happy to resign from anymore efforts to talk to people. but, your company isn't entirely unwelcome. you seem nice, she supposes. "but, it's fine. you can stay."

"no, no, I can go. seriously, it's okay."

lee shakes her head. "I wouldn't offer it unless I was okay with it. really, it's fine."

you shift, shoulders rolling. "you sure?"

"mhm."

you nod, and turn your head to the expanse of the street stretching beyond you two. lee takes the moment to observe your features. you're clearly dressed up for the night, but under your eyes are dark circles, and your mouth seems dry, lips cracking. it's apparent you need some rest. 

you lick your lips, and she looks away from the peak of the pink muscle.

after a quiet moment lingers between you both, you say, "it's a pretty night, isn't it?"

lee's eyes raise to the star-studded sky. "it's peaceful."

"do you prefer the night or morning?"

lee blinks at the unexpected question. "um, night. I'm more productive then." in a way, the transformation actually aligns with the schedule she held prior to it, for she's always stayed up late into the night to do her work. "you?"

"does afternoon count?" you ask, the corner of your lip quirking up. 

"it was your question, not mine."

"mm, true. what do you like about nighttime?"

"it's quiet. easier to unwind and hear my own thoughts."

you nod slowly. "why, what kind of stuff is on your mind that you need quiet for?"

lee's stomach squeezes in discomfort from the question. it's a bit too personal for her liking, but she tries to answer it, vaguely tip-toeing around reality. "I don't know. there's been a big change in my life. so, I guess dealing with that." she pauses right after, wondering if a lie would’ve been safer.

"I see, that sounds rough. I hope you get to figure it out soon."

lee nods, appreciative of your lack of prying. she picks at the corner of her book. "why do you like afternoon?"

"the sun is out, it makes everything bright -- and, you know, it's a period of time in the day where there's still, like, hope."

that catches lee's attention. "hope?"

"hope to be more productive, to do more in the day. to still, you know, take any chances and seize at something you wanted to do that day."

she swallows, a bit intimidated by how open you've become to her. you two barely know each other, and yet your words have taken on a note that feels so private, so exposing to your thought process. 

"that, um, sounds like a good outlook to have. good for productivity."

"I mean, not just productivity. good for any life choices made, really."

lee's mouth twitches. "so, all important life choices should be reserved for the afternoon?"

"yes, of course," you say with a smile. "not too tired, then."

she hums, eyes resting on the table. 

"so, what brings you out at this time?"

"my boss."

your eyes flicker about. "I thought you said you came alone?"

"he's the one that suggested I try coming out and socializing."

you raise an eyebrow at her, your mouth stretching into a grin. "and how's that going?"

she feels a bit self-conscious under your knowing gaze. you both are aware it's not going anywhere. but, she'd rather dismiss that fact than admit it out loud. "you're here."

"I am, aren't I? see, you're pretty lucky -- now, you can tell him you did make a friend."

"friend?" she asks, fingers tapping on her book. "that wouldn't be accurate. I don't even know your name."

"wow," you chuckle, and lee would probably blush at it if not for her bodily conditions. "smooth. was that your way of trying to subtly ask?"

lee nearly laughs. if only she were that cognizant about the ins and outs of conversation. "no, it wasn't." after a beat, she swallows, curiosity beginning to swarm in her. "but, you can tell me it nonetheless."

"if I tell you mine, will you tell me yours?"

her eyebrows furrow. "sure. why wouldn't I?"

"well, you know, mysterious woman, out at night, all by herself."

"except you know why I'm out," she points out flatly. "regarding names and basic information, my name is lee and I'm a special agent."

"special agent?" you shoot back, eyebrows zapping up. "wow, and the mysteries only persist."

lee's lips crack into a smile -- she can't help it. her life isn't exciting enough for her to be considered mysterious. and if it is, it's only because of what she is now. before that, everything in her life was designated into orderly, neat categories. work, home, work, home. that was her life. there was the occasional visit to her mother's, which she supposes was one complicated part of her life. but, it was a part she often avoided and didn't touch. honestly, most complicated aspects of her life received such treatment. both due to a lack of time with how immersed she was in work, as well as an absence of courage.

"it's not that mysterious." she shrugs, drawing her nail along the edges of her book, gaze following the path it makes. 

"yeah, but you seem pretty private."

"'private' and 'mysterious' aren't the same. one is about secrecy, another is about simply wanting things to yourself."

"but, why would you want things to yourself?" you ask, perching your cheek on your open palm, leaning in.

lee clears her throat, shifting in discomfort from the proximity. "what do you mean?"

"it can help so much to share with people."

lee's face twitches. "I think we can disagree on that." not that she would know, really. when she was a child, she barely spoke at all, and her mother was the only one she leaned on in that way. as she grew up, and became more surrounded by peers and co-workers, she was no longer forced to spending most of her days with her mother. but, the privacy stayed, and the isolated feelings made a home in her. she had no desire to burden others with her pain, nor undergo the humiliation of baring herself naked in all of her secrets and dark thoughts. she'd prefer to handle it in her own solitude, where no one can judge her and where she doesn't have to grapple with the weight of unloading things she can barely handle thinking about, let alone giving permission to transform into words.

"and why's that? or would telling me also count as sharing?"

lee's eyes narrow on you, feeling a spark of defensiveness spring to life in her stomach. "I don't because... I don't--" shit, you were right. even admitting the reason why she doesn't share things that are vulnerable is a vulnerable act of sharing in and of itself. "I don't feel comfortable with it."

"why, because you're scared people will judge or something?"

she blinks at you, sighing. she's already kicked the door down. might as well humour you for a bit more. she doesn't expect you two will see each other again, anyways. "amongst other things." at your prodding eyes, she gulps. "well, it's hard for me -- to, you know, communicate sometimes. the topic being one that's serious makes it feel all the more difficult."

"yeah, but if it makes you feel better, it's hard to a degree for everyone, you know? and anyone who cares for you would be patient when listening to you. plus, the comfort you'd receive -- well, it'd make the temporary discomfort worthwhile, you know?"

lee fidgets, her stomach tight with tension at the gentleness your tone takes on. it's smooth and soft, like sand that's been coated by the ocean, so fragile that it just slips through a person's fingers. she'd maybe appreciate it more if it weren't for the embarrassment at feeling so cornered. "why does it matter to you?" she asks, her tone more timid than she wishes it was. "I'm just a stranger to you."

"still a person."

just barely. if only you knew the kind of temptations that raged within her, the violent impulses she needed to lean on in order to survive. she's certain your sympathy wouldn't be so present if so. 

"but, a stranger."

you roll your eyes, and lee might've felt insecure if not for the way your lips still curl up. you don't seem irritated with her, so at least there's that. "my point is that even if you don't share with me, you can still do it with someone else, you know? just take the chance, it'll feel good with the right person."

her lips purse. you seem insistent, but still, she's not entirely convinced that the pros outweigh any potentially harmful repercussions. but, you certainly seem sure of it. and what reason do you have to lie to her? unless you were the kind of person to go around, deceiving strangers. with lee's line of work, she can't say she'd be surprised if you are. 

"I'll think about it."

your face beams as you laugh, and lee feels ambushed by the lifted cheeks glowing from the moonlight, the teeth that flash in the darkness, the lips that crack at the center from the cold. she licks her own, suddenly hyperaware of the direction her thoughts have gone in. she tries to will them back to your words -- which, despite their openness, contain a safer, more comfortable territory than attraction. 

"I suppose that's the best I'll get out of you for tonight?"

"yeah, pretty much."

"then, we'll just have to work harder next time, huh?"

lee's eyes tentatively raise to you, uncertain of what you mean. "next time?"

"yeah." you pluck out a notebook and pen from your bag, and rip a corner off her page (much to lee's alarm) before scrawling something on it. "this is my number and name. why don't we, um, hang out again?"

lee's body jerks a bit in surprise. the last thing she expected was that. she knows she's far from entertaining, or even pleasant, when it comes to conversation. any interaction with a stranger is something she anticipates to be short-lived and reserved to one day only. "uh, why?"

"why?" your lips pinch down.

lee's caught off guard, again, at the onslaught of panic that slams into her at your expression. she tries to pick out her words carefully before clarifying, "I just mean, you were kind of doing the leg work in this conversation."

"yeah, and you entertained it, and didn't shy away." you shrug, and lee's relieved to see the frown melting away. "that's good enough for me."

lee would like to be considered a bit more than good enough, and to be subjected to those words sting, but she supposes it's a natural result of her own reservations. besides, it's surely not the worst thing someone has said about her conversational skills before.

she lifts her hand up to take the paper from your hand, eyes immediately catching the way yours trembles. her eyes flick between the digits and your face. you hadn't seemed nervous, but maybe you were just talented at hiding it. or maybe lee was just unable to detect it. the thought is rather humanizing, and it makes lee ache with the sudden guilt that she hadn’t been more forthcoming.

you stand from your seat, glancing warily at the night club, which continues to pulse with life compared to the deadly stillness of the rest of the street. "so, call me. I should be free, like, saturday morning if you're cool to hang out."

surprisingly, lee is. you didn't overwhelm her, despite the insistent questions, and your perspective was enough to pique her interest. something in her is craving to know more -- a rare sensation on her end, unless it's applied to an investigation. "sure. but, let's meet at night." she licks her lips, trying to keep her voice steady and deprived of any trembles of hesitation. she can't lie for the life of her. "I, um, work a lot during the day, so, yeah." and she's surely not about to invite you into her home during a mere second meeting.

"ah, running on the nocturnal schedule, I see."

lee nearly laughs. you don't even know the half of it.

and so, begins the routine you two weave together through: nightly meetings, talks until the earliest hours of the morning, then an abrupt quiet thrusted upon lee when you depart. you two usually walk through parks, frequent gas stations and convenience stores, and on some occasions, lee picks you up and you two drive around for hours, stopping to walk through the measly, dead grass of fields on the outskirts of town, or to visit abandoned stables and houses. 

for two or three nights a week, lee lets herself forget everything, falling into whatever adventure you drag her into, and becomes surrounded by nothing but the stars, the chirps of the crickets and your laughter at the things she says, even when lee's convinced it isn't funny at all. 

but, she likes your smile, so she’s glad that you laugh. and with time, and more evenings spent with no one to focus or gaze upon but you, she comes to like many things about you.

despite that, it takes weeks before she shares something secretive with you. she doesn't know what coaxes it out. if it's the stress of the case her and carter have been working on, the nervousness derived from wandering along the creaking floorboards of the half-destroyed home, or your eyes, which are so wide, so curious, almost begging for her to give you something. and lee can't find it in her to refuse you. that's what she learned three weeks into your company. she can evade, she can gently deny -- but, if you want something bad enough, there's little chance she has it in her to shut you down.

"my mom collects trinkets like these," she muses to you, fingers brushing against the dusty head of an angel. "even I used to have some in my bedroom."

"does she still?"

lee tenses, rubbing the dust off her fingers -- the only motion her body makes, grounding in its repetition. "yes. but, well... she collects lots of things. she hoards."

"oh." your voice goes soft, faintly echoing in the empty room. "why?"

"I think to have a sense of control after she dealt with some difficult things." she hesitates, a pierce of guilt stabbing in her as she voices out her next thought. it takes her a minute or so to select the words she wants to express herself with. she could only hope her face doesn't come off as so neutral that you think her heartless. she signs in frustration -- this is why it's so hard to open up. "I dislike visiting home because of it. but, I know I should, especially because..." she might die, and I'll be left to mourn her for decades upon decades. "because, you know, anything can happen."

"I'm sorry, lee." you're far, but she can hear your voice, crystal clear. "that must be hard. but, it's okay to step away from it sometimes, you know? better than forcing yourself and getting resentful, you know? the fact that you're already visiting her is admirable."

lee's ears pick up on your approaching step, as well as the way your jacket makes a scratching noise when you lift your arm, then lower it back down in hesitation. after a moment, you reach up again, and lee tenses as you rub her back through the blazer she had on from work. your palm is so, so warm, even through the fabric. lee can't even remember the last time she felt such warmth, her own body more of a freezing corpse above anything else. 

"thanks." she wishes she could be stronger, and visit her mom more. avoid the cowardly decision of staying away just so she doesn't have to face the ruins of their home, and the longing face of her mother. but, your words ease the shame some. it makes her feel like perhaps she isn't too terrible of a daughter after all.

maybe your words from that first night had some merit.

"you're welcome."

lee gulps at how low your voice sounds, quiet and laced with velvet in the silence of this night. she breathes in shakily, before forcing her gaze to lift to yours. your eyes are latched onto her, tracing every inch of her face, and lee feels her skin itch from the focus of it, almost as though your gaze is your finger, dancing along her features and connecting your skin to hers. or as though it's your tongue.

lee clenches her jaw at the thought, unwanted thoughts now flooding her mind of your tongue stroking her cheek as you press wet, slippery kisses down her neck. 

"why are you staring at me?" she forces out, just for the sake of breaking this tension between the two of you. she doesn't know how to handle something that weighs so much despite being intangible. and even if she did, she wouldn't want to subject you to any pursuit of her. no matter how much she dislikes thinking of it, she will outlive you. you'll age, continue to grow, and she'll be stuck here, just as she is. in a matter of years, she'll probably have to leave oregon in order to avoid arousing suspicions over her unaltered appearance. she suspects she'll need to do so every ten or twenty years. and you don't deserve that. a life so utterly detached from normalcy, comfort and the intimate closeness of moving through the years together.

"I just..." you trail off, your hand sliding down her back. lee nearly sags in relief before she stiffens right back up upon your fingers tenderly cradling her wrist.

"you just?"

"I want to, um..."

lee's body thrums under your touch. it's interesting -- her body is drained of life, nothing but a cold, walking stitch of limbs. but, still, your eyes resting upon her is enough to make her feel revived to life, pumped with energy and heat that makes her feel alive. almost as though she's right back at the moment at having been turned, except this time, she's brought back to the depths, the humiliation, and the fleetingness of humanity and impassioned moments that will die in a mere second, that one could choose to seize, lest they face death without having ever really lived with bravery.

but, she doesn't have the luxury of death being a source of encouragement. 

tugging her wrist from your grasp, she mutters, "let's get going," walking through the door, and heading back outside to her car.

something in her aches when she hears you sniffle from inside the house, but she tries to ignore it. you deserve at least a moment to yourself after what she's done.

she can sense your embarrassment and anger during the next week. you handle her less delicately than usual, and even though she didn't think she needed the special treatment in the first place, to lose it after weeks of being on the receiving end makes her feel a bit emptier. 

she's not sure if you're upset that she dismissed your attempt to -- well, touch her, whatever it was, or if it's because she did it so cruelly and without any later mentions of it. she supposes she could've been gentler. at least give you an explanation as to why she didn't want you doing what you did. but, what would she even say? that she doesn't want it, too? that would be a complete lie. there's a smouldering desire that's been burning these past few weeks, flaming to life when you touch her or get close. to deny all of that, and lie straight to your face, makes her feel wrenched with anxiety. 

but, maybe a lie is permissible in this situation. maybe it's not so immoral when it's to avoid hurting you or allowing you to be tied down to an unknown monster for life. and even if she was known to you, exposed for what she is, she still wouldn't want you to suffer through a life with her.

though, it's hard to convince herself of doing the right thing when she's in your bedroom, watching you recall the date you went on as you undress behind a screen. lee fidgets, a burning jealousy scraping at her stomach, fused with discomfort. when the shadow of your figure lowers the straps of your top behind the screen, she can't help but bite down on her lip, her self-control slowly waning with every new glimpse you give her into the map of your body. lee feels like you're unlocking a new secret to her attention with every new spot revealed, it only causes her thoughts to stray to one specific to her interests. would it be coated in wetness? would it be swollen and thick and weeping for some attention?

she nearly releases a small groan at the mere mental image. she's not sure if the vampirism has stirred her desires to a stronger degree. after all, she did always have wants, fantasies and ideas she played into when between her sheets at night, worn out from a long day at the bureau. but, beyond those private moments, she often did a good job at forcing that lust dormant, pushing it to exist in a deep, hidden nook in her mind that was guarded by shame and hesitation from just how depraved her mental wanderings were. in other words, she was good at reserving those kinds of musings for when she was alone, even if there was someone she was attracted to close by. but, now, all it took was a flash of skin, and her mind was whirring with thoughts of bending you over the bed she's seated on, and ravishing you, over and over, until you're so pliant and drained that any dates are the last thing on your mind. 

when you bend over, and her eyes stray to the shape of your ass then flick away immediately, she sucks in a shuddering breath. she can't do this. even if she knows she can't, and wouldn't, act on those desires, there's no need to sit here and undergo this torturous form of voyeurism. especially paired with the frustration that swarms inside when you tell her how the girl you went out with opened every door for you. she can do that too, don’t you know that?

"listen, I'm, um, glad it went well, but maybe you’re tired, so I think I'll just--"

"but we said we'd hang out," you whine, poking your head from the screen.

lee grits her teeth together. she can't tell if you're doing this innocently, or with the intention of riling her up. her romantic experience is both too limited and too lacking in an understanding of social cues to know. frankly, though, as much as she's entertained your petty words and pitiful looks this week, she's not interested in having to go through the frustrating ordeal of this. "yes, under the impression we'd actually be doing something. not just me watching you relay a date."

"I just wanted your opinion on how it went!"

"is that really all there is to it?" lee snaps back, her voice steady and hard. she's not interested in the petty little games. at least her dishonesty and avoidance is rooted in actual care for you. yours is simply spite. "or are you upset because of what happened last week?"

your eyes widen, lips flapping like a fish. she has her answer.

she sighs at your spluttering. "well?"

"no!"

lee feels her eye twitch. from here, she could hear how hard your heart is thumping. you're nervous, and she's tired. might as well call it a night.

when she moves to leave, you slip out from behind the screen, grabbing onto her arm and tugging hard. but, lee has always been strong, and the changes in her body have only emphasized that even more. she stands there, completely unamused as you try pulling her forward, trying hard not to let her eyes stray down to the trimmings of your bra that are revealed from your shirt’s straps hanging off.

"jesus, you're like a rock."

she hums, simply watching you for a few moments before saying, "can I leave now? is the yanking all you had intended to do?"

you huff loudly, planting your hands on your hips. "I was going to say that you shouldn't just leave in the middle of us talking."

"I wouldn't if you'd just be honest."

"I am!"

"you're not," lee hisses, stepping forward to you. immediately, your back presses against the screen, eyes wide as she leans in closer. she's not sure what's gotten into her, but arousal and irritation make for an ugly combination, sending an urge through her to shut you up but also do it in the most filthy way her mind can think of. "you're upset I left when you were doing whatever it is you were doing in the house. and now, you're trying to… get back at me or something?”

your eyes stray down at that, lashes fanning your cheeks. lee watches you quietly. you look so sweet, so pure, like this. fingers fidgeting at the material of your sweats, the warmth on your face flowing right from your skin to hers. eyes, so shiny in the faint coat of light, casted down in embarrassment. lee grits her teeth. something in her goes slack at the sight of you like this, wanting nothing more than to draw out more humiliation from you. she immediately retracts the thought back. what’s wrong with her?

“fine, I– you’re right.” you sigh, a deep frown planted on your face. “I’m sorry, okay? but, you should’ve been more clear about what you were thinking at that moment when it happened. rather than just leave. that’s what hurt me. not that you didn’t want it, but that you left so… coldly.”

she sighs, wincing at the hurt in your voice. even if she has a good reason for avoiding your advances, she never wants to cause you such pain. she makes a silent vow to tread more carefully next time. not that you’ll make another move after this occasion, most likely. rather than reassure her, the thought only stings lee. it’s selfish, but she doesn’t want the sweet gazes and light touches to reside. “fine. I’m sorry, too. I should’ve actually spoken in that moment. rather than just leave.” she gulps hard. “I’m sorry.”

your throat bobs as you swallow, and lee watches the smooth skin of it roll. it looks soft to the touch, so delicate. lee can imagine how easily you’d bruise, how her teeth would sink in so easily. lee blinks hard, forcing her gaze to shift back up, her center beginning to pulse at the thoughts running through her brain. 

“do you wanna go home?”

honestly? “yeah.” she’s tired of the little games and secrecy, and would prefer to go home and devise a plan as to how to handle this new state of your guys’ friendship.

“okay.” your voice is low and meek, like you’re a wounded child, lee hates it, guilt stabbing at her. maybe she should just stay. “can you unzip this before going, though? really, I can’t do it.” with your gaze slid to the ground, you turn your back to her.

“um, sure.” with trembling fingers, lee raises her hand to the zip, tugging it down. when it doesn’t give on her first two tries, she uses her other hand to pinch the fabric and hold it taut, finally getting the zipper down. as more and more of your back gets revealed, a sprinkle of spots and pimples painted upon it, lee feels her breaths shorten. it doesn’t make sense. she doesn’t even need to breathe in the first place. but, habit is a hard thing to let go of, her body all too accustomed to the little rituals its been wound up for since birth.

she can hear and feel every little puzzle piece of your body’s reactions. your increase in heart rate, the heat sinking into every morsel of skin on your neck and face, your breathing shattering into tiny pants. it’s overwhelming, to say the least – she’s always been observant of these things, but ever since she got turned, they’re now thrusted onto her, relentlessly. it stimulates her without limitation, especially considering most of the time, she doesn’t even know what to do with these cues and hints.

when her blunt nails brush against your back, she tenses up at the sight of you squirming, her grip tightening on the fabric on instinct. to know she has this effect on you makes her head spin. she never thought she’d be capable of such a thing.

you lean back against her, your shoulder blades brushing her chest, and she nearly gasps, fingers twisting into the fabric of your top. when your head dips back to lean on her shoulder, her eyes flutter shut. god, she can smell your skin. forget that, she can smell your blood. it smells sweet, the aroma filling her nostrils to the brim and almost making her feel drunk in the way it tips her entire world over. animal’s blood only satisfies so much, she knows that. when she works too many hours, and forgets to feed, she needs to zoom past everyone when leaving the bureau, for close contact makes her muscles seize, her eyes burn, and her gums ache with the fangs itching to lash out and sink. it’s a human’s blood she craves the most. but, she has no desire to put anyone in that position. 

and so, for now, she settles for inhaling a deep whiff of your scent, her nose brushing against your jaw. her eyes squeeze shut as she sucks it in, greedy for it. so achingly greedy. she wants to shove you on that bed, strip you naked so she can push the tip of her nose into every plush point of your body and just breathe you in until it’s as close to drinking as she can get. her hands begin to shake with the want of it. 

you must feel it, for you ask, “you okay?”

god, lee shouldn’t be doing this. she can’t tell you what she is – it’s too much of a burden and responsibility on you, and for her own sake, she swore she’d keep it secret to prevent any complications. and even if she did, in a hypothetical and non-existent future, tell you what she was, she’d have no intention of letting you be with her, nor being on the receiving end of her obligatory feeding. she doesn’t want to hold you responsible for that. she can’t. 

with a jolt, she releases you, backing away. “I–I should go.” her voice is like stone, steady and hard with the way she forces it to be drained of any ounce of arousal or excitement. 

“okay, I–” you swallow, slowly turning to her. lee can’t even meet your eyes. but, she can pick up on the way your fingers rub together. “I’ll see you later?”

she nods. she can’t imagine staying away.

as she turns the doorknob to your bedroom door, you whisper, “lee?” 

she stills herself. “yeah?” 

“do you– did you want what I wanted? last week, at the house?”

she remains silent, her body feeling like it’s been webbed into stone.

“I’m guessing that’s a no.”

the hurt in your voice slams into her like ice, and she continues to freeze in its midst. she doesn’t want you feeling such pain, not in her hands. and lying was an option, but now that she’s faced with the decision of doing so, she finds herself speechless. how can she lie, when you’re so open and waiting? monster she is, she’s too human to resist fibbing under your gaze. she braces herself, choosing her words cautiously. vague enough that she can take time alone to figure things out afterwards, but enough of a confirmation to sate you for now. she could always admit her feelings, then later tell you she’s simply not in a position for a relationship.

and so, she leaves you with, “‘no’ would be the easier answer.”

she leaves before you can say anything.

and in a cruel twist of irony, the next time she sees you is during a moment where most people would expect her to be close to dying. if there is a god, her mom was right about him having a sense of humor. we plan, god laughs.

her and carter hadn’t seen him fast enough, and in a blow to her ears and a jolting tumble to the ground, she was shot in the arm. 

carter had managed to get him in the knee and disarm him, but they couldn’t wait for backup to come. both of them knew if their coworkers arrived, they’d insist on taking lee to a hospital. and if that happened, her secret would be unveiled.

and so, carter had carried her to his car, letting her lie in the back seat, and drove her home quickly, muttering breathless apologies everytime a speed bump sent her lurching, bile rising in her throat. 

she supposed it was a comfort, to know she wasn’t going to die. it ought to have been. but, the fear she first felt when the bullet struck her, seeping into her skin and lodging its way through, had actually been a relief. for a split second, she had been fooled into thinking her life was a fragile thing, the temporary nature of which resurfaces in life-or-death moments like these. she had actually felt human, like she belongs with the people she used to share the label of species with. it felt nice, to feel human again.

but, then, the pain settled in. and it only flashes hotter in her arm when her and carter arrive, and you’re sitting on the steps of her porch, waiting upon her return. 

all she remembers is the deep creases embedded into your forehead as you rushed to her side, shakily gripping the uninjured arm that slings as carter helps her to the door. and the way your voice reaches an inconceivably high pitch as you screech, “what are you doing? we need to take her to a fucking hospital!”

“you should leave,” carter grunts as he kicks down the door to lee’s home, immediately setting her down on the couch. “I’ll look after her here.”

“no, no, but I should help–”

“let me handle this, you can visit her tomo–”

“it’s okay,” lee mutters, her eyes half-lidded, the stinging ache in her arm seizing every inch with a death grip. “it’s okay. I trust…” she nods in your direction, too exhausted to explain your presence to carter. she’s only mentioned you as the someone she met during her night out, but kept it to herself afterwards. as she did with most things when it came to carter or anyone else at work. she probably would’ve never confided in carter about her true nature had it not been for him bearing witness to it. but, in a way, she’s glad. she doesn’t know how she would’ve managed juggling every other part of her life without his help and commitment to keeping her secret safe. even now, he’s still eyeing you warily, as though debating as to whether or not you can be trusted.

and she’s not so sure, either. you two have only known each other for a few months, and maybe that’s not a reasonable amount of time to measure up to trusting you with a secret this gave. but, in the throes of pain, the nonsensical reach for survival, she knows in her guts that she trusts you. and feelings don’t measure to fact, so yeah, maybe she shouldn’t act on this notion. but, she can’t find it in herself to care about turning over and inspecting every possible outcome of having this revealed to you. it’s not like you’ll actually agree to leave, and lee needs to heal herself. now. you’ll see her in her true state, using her powers, no matter what. the worries of burdening you, of you letting the truth out – lee can deal with it later.

“really, it’s okay,” lee murmurs, rolling her head onto her shoulder, panting heavily. “I just… help me.” the words taste new and unfamiliar on her tongue, feeling open and almost childlike in the small plea laced into them. she needs you both right now.

with some shuffling movements and awkward hands, you and carter manage to slide off her work jacket and unbutton her shirt so that one side is draped down her arm, the wound revealed. it’s a gaping hole with metal lodged in, smeared with blood and ripped flesh, searing with pain. she knows it’s not nearly as bad as what a full human would experience upon a gun wound, but jesus, it hurts.

carter turns his back to her for privacy’s sake. “take your time.”

she first did it when she got cut when cooking. she did it again when she had gotten badly bruised during an investigation of an old farmhouse with carter. she’s managed success every time, and she’s certain this time won’t be any different. 

her eyes flicker to you. she doesn’t want to show you this part of her. but, she knows you don’t intend to leave her side. and if you do abide by her wishes and look away, then turn back to see her magically healed, you’ll never believe her if she makes up an excuse or tells you the truth. and she’s not exactly in the right state to come up with a lie, anyways, for the healing process will be exhausting. it’s the truth on display, even in spite of the protest raging in her, the worries that you’ll leave upon realizing how monstrous she is. it’s now or never. 

she clears her throat and wordlessly gathers up spit in her mouth while raising her uninjured arm, hand cupped and ready to gather the wetness that comes dribbling from her mouth. she avoids eye contact with you the entire time, entirely conscious of just how… feral and unappealing this must all look to you. but, she can tell you’re perplexed, disgusted maybe, due to the still silence surrounding the two of you. 

the spilled saliva in her palm is delicately pressed to her wound, and she hisses at the contact. but, immediately, her body begins to run into overdrive, the inner-workings of it churning and rolling to push energy to the tender bit of pierced skin. immediately, her skin starts crawling in on itself, weaving back together and meeting at the center, the bullet slowly getting pushed out of the gaping hole as it sews itself back together.

she drinks in a deep breath, then wills herself to meet your gaze. in another circumstance, she would’ve smiled at the way your eyes bulge out in wonder, mouth agape as your gaze wildly runs up and down her body.

“lee, what the actual fuck?”

at first, you leave, much to carter and lee’s concern, the two of them exchanging questioning stares, which are alert with the question of: will you tell? but, then, in a matter of twenty minutes, you return, and sit right down in front of lee, demanding she tell you everything.

and so, she does. she explains how it happened without mincing words (which may account for why carter winces a bit), how she’s been managing since, and some features of her vampirism, trying to keep the more bloody ones tucked away under vague explanations, such as, “every few days, I need to, um, feed.” but, when your eyes widen imperceptibly, her stomach sinks, and she hastily adds, “not humans. animals.”

your silent question makes her feel slightly sick. did you not trust her at all? though, she couldn’t fault you. she herself doubts her humanity and goodness everyday, and she’s the one living in this lifeless host. the host that would be unfurling and rotting if not for the powers she’s so repulsed by.

that night, you send carter off, insisting you’ll take care of lee. she wishes, privately, that you’d let her be, for it’s only a matter of time until her body will demand replenishment. then, again, she hasn’t suffered from an injury this serious since she was turned. she doesn’t even know if she has it in herself to hunt for prey, not when her body is so depleted and weak. but, what choice does that lead her then?

as you change the sheets to her bed, for she drenches them every evening from over-sweating, her eyes roam over your figure, languidly skimming over every dip or curve. there’s a solution to her problems right in front of her. but, she refuses to engage in it. she can’t help but fear the addiction human blood might trade to her in order to have the sweet taste of it filling her mouth and coating her gums. she can’t put herself in that position, not when it might lead to this happening more than once. she doesn’t want you tethered to that. sure, it may not happen – it may just be a one-time thing and she’ll manage. but, the possibility of an alternative path is too much.

you help her back to the bed with an arm hugging at her waist, warm and soft even though the fabric of her old t-shirt. when you lower her, she’s reminded of past memories, kinder ones, of her mother looking after her like this. she doesn’t enjoy the vulnerability that comes with being taken care of, but every other part of it – the tenderness in your hands, the way you’re alert to all her needs, the brief touches… those feel nice.

by the second day you’ve stayed with her, lee feels it edging on. her stomach is beginning to faintly grumble, the craving beginning to set into its motion. she’d resist it, ignore it, if it weren’t for the fact that she needs it in order to regain energy and complete the final stage of her healing. otherwise, she will continue to be weakened by the exertion it took her body to heal itself.

and, so, she tentatively brings it up with you, mouth twitching in half-amusement when you raise an eyebrow and say, “hunt? I can’t do that for shit.”

“well, I need you to,” she mutters. “carter’s swamped at the bureau right now for his trip to washington, so this is the only option.”

“ah, well, I do love being a last resort,” you drawl.

she rolls her eyes. “it’s not about being a last resort. this is just the situation we’re in.”

you sigh, glancing down at the gun she had handed to you. “but, I don’t know if I have it in me to, you know, do that.”

lee’s lips fold in, guilt piercing through her stomach. she hates to ask this of you. she hates doing it herself in the first place, and she needs it for sustenance. she can’t imagine how it must feel for you, whose life does not depend on it. but, she doesn’t know what else to do. she rummages through ideas for a few seconds, anything that can make this easier. 

“maybe, um, you can drive my car out deeper into the forest. and we park there, wait, then I can shoot it.”

you wince at the proposition, and lee chews her bottom lip, wishing she had been more delicate in the vocalization of it.

but, ultimately, you agree, saying if it’s for her health, you’d do anything. lee supposes it was meant to be a comforting sentiment, but it only makes her feel embarrassed and ashamed. for even when she is at a state where she ought to be stronger, she still needs assistance from someone else. and the worst of it is the fact that in this instance, your assistance requires you to sacrifice your morals.

and so, you drive her car to the woods. you wedge your eyes shut, crinkles and all, as she aims and shoots a rabbit. as per her request, you look away and turn up the music as she weakly crawls to it and drains it of its blood. lee wipes her hands and mouth clean of the sin, her stomach squeezing in hot, curdling shame as she returns to the car. she could only hope you stuck to your word and didn’t look. when she looks at herself in the door’s side mirror and sees a spot of blood remaining splattered on her chin, she feels her eyes burn in humiliation.

you two go back, and she waits for her energy to be fully replenished.

something that never comes.

the blood helps, but only some. she waits, hours and hours, and still, she cannot walk or stand for long before needing to sit down. when you two separate for the night, you resting on her couch just as you’ve been for the past two nights despite her protests that you should take the bed, she can’t help but feel a sense of dread wash over her. this isn’t how animal feeding is supposed to work. this isn’t how it ever works. it usually sustains lee and provides her with enough energy and strength for three days, maybe four if she stretches it out. but, then again, she’s never relied on said diet after receiving such a harsh injury. 

she reconciles the situation by deciding that upping the dosage might be the required course of action. and so, you two repeat the same line of events the next day, and she feeds. and again, she returns home, hands fiddling in her lap as she sits up in her bed. but, still, it doesn’t go away – the light-headedness, the exhaustion, the inability to move for long.

she knows you pick up on it too, for the next morning, you sit on the edge of her bed, shooting her a soft, wary smile. “do vampires have special doctors or something?”

“not that I know of.” she sighs, resting back on the headboard. while your question was spoken light-heartedly, she truly has been meaning to get back into contact with the family that turned her. though part of her, a huge one at that, still despises what she’s turned into, she knows being acquainted with other creatures like herself will make situations like this, ones where she’s still untrained and, therefore, at risk, easier to understand. 

your smile slowly fades, and lee’s lips pinch in, wishing she had joked back with you. “I’m worried about you, lee. you still seem really weak.”

“you don’t have to worry,” she mutters, eyes downcast. “it’s not your responsibility.”

“stop that,” you interject, shifting your body closer, lee instinctively flinching from the proximity. when she feels you move back, she swallows down the protest, waiting for you to continue. “I’m not doing this out of obligation. I’m doing this because I care about you.”

that’s the problem. if you were doing it out of obligation, lee could at least assure herself that you’re deriving some self-satisfaction from doing something that fulfills a responsibility on your end. but, when it’s all dependent on pure care, it feels burdensome for you. you’re doing this all for her. and she isn’t certain how to deal with that. beneath it all, though, is gratitude, warm and comforting. she doesn’t like being anything other than self-sufficient, but if she has to be, you’re one of the only people she’d feel at least mildly comfortable doing so with.

“I know,” she responds, forcing her eyes to meet yours. “but, at this point, our options are limited. and soon, I’ll get too hungry, and it won’t be safe for you here.”

you lick your lips, blinking hard at her. she feels uneasy with the possibility that you’re growing to fear her, now that you’ve borne witness to the uncontrollable nature of her desire for blood.

which is why she freezes when you say, “well, why don’t you take my blood then?”

her eyes, wide and straining, are fixed on the blanket, a flash of thoughts blasting through her mind. why would you ask such a thing? where did you even get that idea from? sure, like most people, you’ve probably always been aware about vampires’ tendencies to feed on humans. but, what could’ve caused you to get the idea that you and her should do that?

worse than her lack of answers is the stirring in her stomach, the quiet rumbling. it’s like an ugly beast has turned its head, reminding her of what she is, what she needs. she sucks in a shaky breath, trying to tame it.

at her pained silence, you continue, your voice slow with what she senses is trepidation, as though she’s a wounded animal. “listen, lee, I did some research with the books in here – the ones you bought on vampires and all that. and human blood is more reviving for you guys than animal blood. so, like, maybe you just–”

“no.”

you blow a puff of air, sharp and hard. “lee, now’s not the time to be stubborn.”

she shakes her head. “no. I won’t let it happen. you can’t– no, we don’t do it.”

“lee!” you scoff, your voice rising to a borderline squeak. “what the hell is the alternative?”

her jaw clenches. she racks her mind for something, anything, other than trying this – especially when this includes something that she’s never done before and therefore isn’t sure how much restraint she’ll have with it, as well as how desirous she’ll be for more afterwards. “I-I don’t know. maybe I’ll continue trying with animals, and it’s just a matter of time until it works. and if it doesn’t, I’ll, I don’t know, call carter. he’ll be back in two days, and–”

“and what? you’ll drink from him, but not me?”

lee’s eyes flick up at your wayward tone. “yes.” 

you splutter, eyes burning into her. “why?” 

“because I–” I know that carter won’t continue giving me his blood if he believes it’s going too far. I know he doesn’t care for me in the same way as you do, so he won’t give up too much of himself. I’m scared for you in a way that’s incomparable. I think your blood will be all the more tempting because it’s yours. “I just think it’s riskier for you.”

“why, because you think I can’t handle it? or, like, it’ll be less effective to drink from me?”

she can hear the way your voice breaks, and inhales a steadying breath to keep her own levelled, firm – rational. “no. it’s not a competition, okay? I just don’t want to do that to you.”

“but, why?”

“because, carter won’t give in if he feels it’s going too far. but, you will.”

you flinch, and lee hisses quietly at the sight. “what, so you think I’m just gonna be, like, stupid and let you do anything to me?”

“I never said that.” she ponders on her phrasing for a few seconds, before slowly saying, “I just– you and I share a… personal relationship. more than I do with carter. because of that, I’m worried you’ll be more lenient about how much or how often I can, well, drink from you. especially considering I may ask for more, or too much, once I get a taste. I’ve never had human blood, so my first taste might make me more prone to requesting for more. but, if this injury really does demand human blood, I want to drink it once, then never again so long as I can help it.”

“okay, so then I’ll leave for a few hours after you feed once, so that there’s no chance I give you more. or, I don’t know, I leave for a few hours, and you call to let me know if you feel energized afterwards so you have to digest it before taking more blood. and if you don’t feel better, we can deal with the situation then.”

she shifts. could that work? no, no – not a chance. even if it could work, that’s only by chance. “still, I don’t want to.”

“why?” you cry out, shifting further to peer into lee’s eyes, which flicker about. “if the difference between carter versus me is that he’ll ensure you stop, and I promise to do the same, then what difference does it make?”

her eyes widen, something in her chest twisting. you care so deeply, so effortlessly, without bounds. lee can’t help but admire it, even if it’s to her own detriment right now. you’re just too good.

“because I–” she turns away, gritting her teeth. “I’m more scared for you.” her voice lowers at the vulnerable admission.

“but, why?”

she says nothing, her fingers curling tighter into the sheet. she trusts in you to put the pieces together. she had already indicated her feelings last week, and has suspected since that you must, at least vaguely, know of them. and so, she doesn’t imagine it’ll take long for you to figure out her meaning.

after a moment, you quietly say, “oh.”

she nods. “so, no. we won’t do it.”

“lee.” your tone softens, breaking at the edges into something delicate and fragile. you shift closer, your hand resting on hers. she jerks in surprise from the contact, feeling her breath still when your other hand slides to her face, turning her gaze towards yours. your eyes are wide and imploring, eyebrows drawn in what she suspects is concern. “please. you need this. and I want to do this because I care for you. and I know that you’ll be extra careful because you… care for me.” you hesitate at the word “care,” and lee wishes you knew just how much she cares, and wants, and needs. “I trust you, okay? we can take preventative measures to be careful. and, wouldn’t you prefer to do it for the first time with someone who’s, um, a friend?”

her eye twitches at that word, but she shakes it off, trying to resist the part of her that is beginning to lean into your proposition. it’s hard to do so, though, considering the rules and regulations you’re laying on the line, which even she has to admit is giving the situation a more comforting level of structure. it’s making her mind wander, wondering if the measures you speak of are enough to secure a safe exchange. she’s aching for it, her bones weary and her insides deprived of the hot, strong energy usually surging through it. and with each argument you put out, her stomach pulsates stronger for it.

“no. I-I might be too tempted to keep going, to keep drinking if I…” she clears her throat, voice lowering. “... like it.”

“then, we’ll tie you up or something!”

that gives lee pause. her lips purse together, mind running a mile a minute. what if that’s the solution? she’s certain she could, eventually, undo anything you could tie or lock her with. but, if it’s something strong, like her handcuffs, it’d take her enough time to undo it to secure your departure if she’s tempted to do anything particularly… depraved.

at her pondering, you seem to realize that she’s considering it. “c’mon, lee, just do it.”

her eyes flutter close. it’s almost as though you think she needs to be coaxed into drinking your blood. but, that’s not true at all. what scares her most is the fact that every cell in her body is pinched and stretched with the desire to lean into you, bury her face in your skin and sink her teeth in until warm, wet splashes of your blood burst in her mouth. the only thing she needs convincing of is how safe it is to give into that desire, how she can ensure you won’t be burdened or pained.

“I– I don’t want you doing it just for me,” she murmurs, her chest still tugging with resistance. “it’s an… intimate process, and you don’t have to do it just for me. we can find another way, or, well, I can and–”

“lee,” you say, your voice hardened with a stern undertone. “I want to, okay? and I am comfortable. a bit anxious, yeah, about how it’ll feel. but, we can stop if it hurts, right?”

“that’s what I mean – what if I’m not able to stop?”

“lee, you just fed yesterday – I don’t think you’re desperate enough to not stop right as we start.”

she shakes her head. you’re too trusting – she can barely stomach herself and how unkempt her desire is. and you’re here, plainly talking about it, declaring the faith you have in her as though she’s not more beast than human. as though you see and know of these monstrous, dark wants in her and are so hopeful of the person she is that you do not notice them. or worst, that you do acknowledge them and have an easier time embracing them than herself. she doesn’t know if it’s a testament to naivete on your part, or proof of self-loathing on hers. “I don’t know.”

“well, I know. and I’m willing to try if it means you’ll get better.” you cup her jaw, tilting her face up. “please?” 

her breath shudders. she shouldn’t she knows she shouldn’t, but you’re going to keep coming up with solutions because you’re sweet. and her resolve is going to keep breaking with each one you serve, the hunger getting too strong. so, with eyes squeezed shut, she gives you a curt nod. 

you go with the handcuffs, chaining lee to her bed post. doing it requires you to sit in her lap, and lee needs to intentionally keep her breathing steady from the warmth of your body so intimately close to hers. but, as you wind your arms around her torso, perching your chin on her shoulder to get a good sight of the handcuffs, she becomes hyper-aware of everything about you. the plush of your thighs entrapping hers, the tickle of your hair brushing her cheek, how your breathing is stuttering and your heart is pounding. you’re just as nervous as she is. it only deepens her own fear, sending it plummeting into the hollow of her stomach. you guys also set an alarm for ten minutes – according to her calculations, it’s not nearly enough time to drain you of a harmful amount of blood, so it works.

when you lean back, your nose brushes past the lobe of her ear and a small shiver snakes down her spine. she prays for some refuge from this desire hanging around her neck and tightening with no relent. but, instead you remain where you are. her eyes remain stuck to your neck to avoid your gaze, which she can feel the weight of resting upon her.

“lee, should we start?”

she licks her lips, anxiety beginning to tie her body into twists and knots, tight and nauseating. slowly. she has to go slowly, cautiously and while paying close attention to how your body responds to her touch. she vows to do that, devoted to ensuring your safety and comfort. 

“mm, okay,” she quietly affirms.

“look at me,” you mutter, voice so breathy and low that it’s almost as though it’s a tangible object on the brink of shattering.

she abides by your request. she’d do anything you ask at this moment, really. anything to make this easier, anything to translate the gratitude that pools beneath the disbelief and fear at what you’re letting her do to you.

you watch her with eyes that are relaxed, steady. nothing like lee, who wishes to break away from the stare as soon as possible. it’s unnerving, yet lee holds onto it as an anchor. your courage and trust in this situation is what’s propelling it forward, what’s holding it at the seams. she wants to rely on it, just as you’re relying on herself to handle you with care. 

“it’ll be okay.”

three words and it makes lee’s mouth twist in emotion, her eyes beginning to burn faintly. but, she doesn’t give herself over to the urge. not like this, not when she needs to remain level-headed.

“I just…” she’s close enough to count your lashes, and she almost does – anything to distract her from the next words she utters. “I don’t want to hurt you. I want you safe.”

your lips slowly curl up, and it makes the skin by your eyes crinkle. how you have it in you to smile in this moment, she doesn’t know. “and you’re sweet for that. but, I trust you to keep to that, okay?”

“why?” she asks. “you’ve only just found out what I am.”

“and? I’ve known for months who you are. and that, to me, matters more. in fact, part of who you are is the fact that you’re this. and I don’t think that that, like, exists separately from the parts of you that are loyal, just and smart. I think it coincides with them. it’s just who you are, and so it wouldn’t make me distrust you. because, well, I trust all of you. not just parts.”

lee’s teeth make a soft click as they crash together and grind, trying to keep her emotions at bay. maybe she could set some time aside to think about this and cry later, but not now. now, the two of you had a goal to complete. but, still, compartmentalizing is easy only in theory after what you just said. for months, she has experienced a range of emotions, from discomfort to complete disgust, with what she’s transformed into, considering it a part of herself that she cannot bear to accept as being infused with her core being. rather, she’s seen it as a faraway facet of her existence, something she was forced into, and may have to adjust her life to, but that she wants bearing no significance in the long run. like a sort of parasite. so, for you to emphasize how infused that part is within her makes her feel not only uncomfortable, but unnerved, because she knows that in the union of these parts, you don’t turn away. you don’t look at her the way she sees herself. you see her as a whole, entirely filled figment that you will openly embrace. because you trust who she is beyond the division of human and monster. 

“thank you,” she manages to force out, not wanting your words to go unacknowledged. one day, she’ll tell you what they mean to her. she has to.

you two lock eyes after that, yours boring into hers with a focus that makes her shift underneath you. instinctually, your hands raise, gripping her shoulders tightly. she swallows hard, the sting of your nails digging past the fabric of her sweater making her body strain with the urge to squirm. and there’s something about knowing you’re depending on her to stay balanced that forms a warm pleasure in her abdomen. 

“of course.” after a moment, you shuffle closer on her lap, and lee nearly groans. you only stop once you two are nearly chest to chest, her eyes levelled with your nose. after a moment, you raise your chin up, revealing the slope of your neck to her. “we can start.”

her breaths begin to tremble, the momentum of the occasion feeling heavy on her mind. she can do this. you can do this. she doesn’t believe herself, of course, but she hopes with enough repetition it’ll absorb into her brain, even if just barely.

she leans in, her warm breath coating your skin. this close to you, she can hear the faint tremors of your breath, and she shuts her eyes in guilt. god, what is wrong with her? you’ve tried so hard to reassure her this entire time, and she’s barely done the same for you, too clouded by her self-doubt and anxieties to do so.

“hey,” she murmurs, raising her mouth to your ear. “it’s me. it’s us. I’ll take care of you, okay? I’ll be careful, and I, um, may not know how I’ll react. but, I’m going to try my hardest to make sure you’re safe. okay?” 

your fingertips press harder into her shoulders, which flex automatically. “I know you will.”

she gulps. “still, I wanted you to hear it from me.” just to emphasize it, she leans back, her eyes locking onto yours, which gleam prettily from the orange light of her bedside table. she forces the thought away – now’s not the time. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it before. but, I’m gonna make sure you’re okay.”

you nod, your lips curling into a gentle smile. “just–just go slow, okay? so, I can call it quits if it hurts too much.”

she nods immediately. “yeah.” after a pause, she adds, “we really don’t have to–”

“lee, I want to,” you repeat, once again, grip tightening on her. “trust me on this.”

she sucks in a shaky breath. she supposes that’s all there is to this. her trusting your strength, you trusting her fragility. “okay.” 

when you give her one more affirmative nod, she lowers her head back to your neck, slowly, carefully. the sight of the spot, different freckles and pimples sprinkled about it, has her stomach shifting with longing, the ache for a taste beginning to stir stronger. it hisses at her, makes her feel like your neck is beckoning her forward. 

your arms envelope her neck. “is this okay? can I… can I hold you, lee?”

surprisingly, she finds that she doesn’t want to deny you. your arms around her feel steadying, something to focus on and absorb the sensation of when the entire world seems to be spinning. something to focus her thoughts on momentarily, sink into the feel of so that not every single sense of hers is anxiously pinpointed onto the impending bite. something to shudder against and find a bit of comfort and solace in when she’s about to expose to you the horrors of what she’s become. 

“it’s okay,” she breathes, her head dipped against your shoulder. your hands smooth over the fabric of her sweater, easing into gentle, rhythmic circles that loosen the tension in her body. it feels as though this touch translates your support, your affection, and is another way of reminding her that you are here for her despite the horrific display she’s about to put on. and it means so much to her – that kind of unwavering loyalty, especially coming from you, the one she holds in such esteem. the one a stray part of her has been wanting to be held by for an aching number of months right now. your touch is so unfamiliar, and it feels so solid and real against lee. something finally flung out of her dreams. it makes her want to pull away, put distance so that she can reside in the familiar place of physical isolation. but, she knows it’s just her own stumbles and struggles with intimacy causing this strain. because if she closes her eyes, and pretends this is something you two have done before, something she’s good at, she’s able to sag against you, sigh as your fingers dip into the strands of her hair.

finally, she leans back, her breath ghosting against your neck once more. she marvels at your sensitivity, goosebumps immediately breaking over your skin at the cool puff. she can hear your breaths growing shorter, faster, and she repeats, once more, “it’ll be okay.”

your grip in her hair tightens slightly, and her eyes squeeze shut at the slight pain. “I know. I just keep telling myself it’s like a piercing, or a shot.”

her lips twitch, fondness breaking through. “yeah.” she opts to say nothing else, not wanting to shatter your self-assurance.

with a heavy breath, she closes her eyes, letting her fangs protrude out of her gums, the act sending a slight ache into her mouth. once she adjusts to the newly extended teeth, she leans forward, grazing them against the tender skin of your neck, wanting you to get a sense of what’s to come. 

you suddenly shiver against her, and lee swallows down a noise at the indication of how sensitive you are. when she does it again, she knows it’s a lie to say it’s solely to help you adjust, her body feeling completely on edge when you softly gasp again, your fingers wound tight in her brown streams of hair.

“still okay?”

“yeah,” you heave, the nails of your other hand digging into lee’s back. she nearly groans at the sensation, the hunger beginning to grow stronger in her guts, mixing with arousal at having you so close to her, so pliant and waiting. it’s to help her feed and survive, but she can’t help but wonder just how submissive you’d be in other contexts.

“are you sure?”

“mhm,” you hum, the noise slightly squeaky. that, paired with the flush of heat crawling along your skin, which lee catches onto as soon as it snakes over you, are indicators enough that the intimacy of the moment isn’t lost on you.

“I’m gonna do it now,” she whispers. the declaration is for both you and herself. she’s never been a person of words, but in this moment, she believes that her announcement of the act is the only thing that’ll push her forward to go through with it. 

you tense against her, and lee suddenly wishes she wasn’t handcuffed, that maybe she could comfort you too. it’s an unfamiliar urge. “okay.” 

you trust her. you trust her more than she trusts herself. lee reminds herself of this, focused on the fact that even if she doesn’t like herself in this form, nor has a lot of faith in herself in it, you do. and even if you didn’t, she took it upon herself to care for and protect you the moment she first called you to meet again all those months ago. and for those reasons, she owes it to you to store some certainty in herself that she won’t hurt you and won’t lose control. she’ll trust herself, at least for you.

her eyes are wide and focused, her breaths still as her teeth easily give way into your skin, piercing the surface of it, which is soft and taut. it’s almost like biting into a soft, creamy dish, easily breakable and so much more delicate than one ever anticipates. she goes slowly, willing herself with repetitive mantras to take her time and listen closely for signs of anxiety or discomfort from you. while your grip on her tightens, heart continuing to thud fast and hard against the confines of your chest, you say nothing.

her fangs sink in a bit deeper, totally breaking the barrier of skin as the thin tip of them dip in, and lee finds herself entranced by the feeling. becoming a vampire has taught her of the fragility of the human body she encompassed before she was turned. the kind of energy and strength that ran through her body after being turned, the capabilities she possessed in her everyday experience, were unmatched to anything she was physically capable of prior. so, she’s well-aware of the weakness of the human body. but, she never thought your skin would be this soft, this tender.

“ah,” you suddenly wince, gripping onto lee’s head tighter.

she stills her movements, torn between pulling back to ask if you’re okay or remaining frozen. if it turns out you are okay and want her to continue, then she’ll have to undergo the process of re-inserting her fangs, which may cause you more pain. but, maybe you’re in so much pain you need her to stop and take them out now. she racks her mind for a few moments, before humming lightly, hoping that probes you for a response.

“I’m okay, I just,” you softly gasp. “it just hurts a bit, but I think it’s getting better. just keep still.”

lee’s stomach tightens with the knowledge of you in pain, the fact that’s caused by her only making the guilt pierce harder. she takes your words diligently, remaining frozen, tongue still locked into her mouth, not daring to taste your blood until you’ve confirmed you’re okay. god knows what she’ll do if she lets herself taste it right now.

after a few more soft pants, lee can hear your heartbeat slow down, your hands beginning to stroke her hair, nails lightly scratching against her scalp. lee’s eyes flutter shut at the sensation, feeling utterly doted on, the itching sensation giving her an unexpected wash of satisfaction. it’s almost embarrassing – she’s right on the edge of tasting your blood, and head scratches are what have her sagging in your arms. that, paired with your other hand continuing to rub between her shoulder blades, feels like the closest she’s gotten to a massage in years. even in spite of carter urging her to go to one after she spends hours in all sorts of positions and contortions on the ground when sorting out evidence.

“it feels better,” you slowly say, your tone low and hesitant, as though you’re confused. “it just stings now, I don’t know why.”

lee wonders if her saliva is already helping you prematurely before she even heals the wound. maybe it falling from her open mouth, and mixing in with the process of biting, is helping you handle the injury. lee can’t help but desperately hope for that, wanting to eliminate as much pain as she can.

“you can keep going.”

she blinks, her stomach flaring to life at your permission. with her nose digging into the soft skin of your neck, she can smell the sweet nectar of your blood. her limbs stiffen in anticipation for it, shoulder straining as she lets her teeth sink in further. as she enters you, the curve of her teeth curling just right into your flesh, her breaths get shallow, hitching in excitement as she finally feels that first, warm splash along her tongue.

she can’t help it. she immediately moans, eyes squeezing shut as the first drops of your blood, leaking from the puncture wounds of your skin, smear along her lips and run onto her tongue. it’s so warm, sharp in how utterly sweet it tastes, and as it slithers down the length of the muscle, she trembles against you. her stomach twists, begging for more. to let these few measly droplets be the only tastes she gets of you seems impossible, but she scrunches her eyebrows together in focus, tensing as she gives you a moment to feel your way through her first sip. she wishes she could see your face, know what you’re thinking. 

“was that enough?” you whisper softly, stroking through her hair. “hum once for yes, twice for no.”

lee hesitates, then gives her honest answer. the blood she took from you was so little that it hasn’t even slid down her throat.

“take more,” you say, your voice hard with determination and surety.

lee’s head is whirring so much with the first brief taste of you, her entire body shaking in your arms for more, tight at the mere lick of euphoria. she can’t wait for another confirmation from you and immediately presses her lips against your neck in an open-mouthed kiss, teeth fully embedding into your skin. your blood bursts from the two small stabs, gushing into her mouth and sliding down the slope of her teeth and down her tongue. when it travels through her throat, lee whimpers at how easily it runs down, smooth and slippery, burying itself into her guts and infusing with the raging hunger that she’s forced to lay dormant for months. 

she gets so lost in the milky sensation of it, flowing so easily through her body and feeling like a dunk of ice cold water on a steaming hot day. so lost that she nearly misses a soft noise that comes from you. just nearly. but, as her mind registers it, and she hears another, her body tenses with the realization that you’re – you’re moaning.

though her insides wail for her not to, she forces herself to remain still, content to continue swallowing down the gulps of blood already pooled at the center of her tongue as she awaits something, anything, from you. though the spot between her legs is throbbing from the quiet, high noise that had drifted from your lips, she tells herself to focus, listen in for any signs of your discomfort.

but, then, you’re tugging on her hair, and you sound like you’re pleading for mercy when you say, “lee, don’t stop. ah, it feels nice.”

lee’s eyes bulge at that, the news taking her several long moments to fully absorb before she begins to suck again. but, even as she does, her mind is seized by equal measures of curiosity and confusion. why does it feel good? how does it feel good? could it be her saliva?

but, then, more of your warm, velvety blood seeps into her mouth, sliding between the gaps and curves of her teeth, filling the cavern of her mouth with fresh honey that has her feeling nearly drunk off of ecstasy the more she hungrily tightens and gulps down more. and, then, god, you make that fucking noise again – a high pitched, broaken little whine that has lee’s fingers tightening into the metal of the handcuffs still chained to her. you tug hard on her hair, and lee groans at the sting of it, the sensation pulling her out of the chains of logic and rationality and into the hot, burning throes of pleasure. her mind is wrapped in the silks of hunger satiated, the pure delight and high of it softening every sensible truth she’s ever known.

she pushes her mouth harder, teeth pushing in with a fervour her first bite didn’t possess before. she’s about to pause, fear springing into her that she went too far, but then you jerk in her lap, crying out, your arms tightening around her neck. 

“oh,” you mewl out, “do that again.”

fuck. lee will do it a thousand times if it means she gets to become surrounded with more of those noises.

she pushes in harder and you instinctively grind on her crotch again, inciting a grunt from lee. she doesn’t feel much from the friction of it, but the mere fact that your pleasure is so great to stir up movement like this has her tipping into something akin to hazy obsession. 

“sorry,” you gasp, “was that okay? one hum for yes–”

lee gives a firm, short hum. somewhere in the back of her mind, there’s the nagging voice that this can be precarious for your friendship, but she doesn’t care. she can’t care, not when you’re writhing on her lap, pliant for the taking, lost in pleasure just like her. when will she ever have the nerve to do this again? when will lee harker, in any other moment of her life, let herself fling into such reckless abandon, with her reservations crumbled by sheer arousal?

she shoves her face into the warm slope of your neck, prodding her teeth in deeper, your blood gushing into her mouth and coating it as she continues drinking. she whines loudly, her arms straining with the stretch of being handcuffed, rattling her wrists against the metal loops desperately. they pinch into her skin, but she doesn’t care, her fingers itching with the urge to burrow into your hair, your skin, your clothes, anything.

your restraint seems to dissipate just as fast as hers, for moments later, she feels your arms envelop her as you shakily plug in the key, setting her arms free. they immediately fling up to encircle your body, and she keeps you wedged against her as she continues slurping your blood, one hand on your hip digging in and pushing you back and forth on her lap. you cry out, hugging her close. in a string of dissolved moans and squeaky breaths, you say, “lee, yes, please, like that.”

she grips tightly onto your body, helping you continue to move as she keeps her eyes clenched shut. the taste of your blood staining her mouth has her enthralled, adrenaline pumping through her body relentlessly. 

when her nails dig into the dips of your back, you release a choked out, raspy noise, your hips stilling from their motions, letting her drink and drink and drink. she can’t even imagine how this can get better until you’re suddenly convulsing on her lap, entire body jerking wildly as a loud wail flies from your lips, bouncing off the walls of her empty bedroom. lee’s fingers sink deeper into your skin, short, rounded nails pressing into the strip of skin right above your ass as she continues to eat you up, relishing in your warm blood as you shudder in her arms, which grip onto you with a sudden blast of protectiveness. you clutch on just as tightly, hugging her to you with soft coos, shivers racking your body.

the next string of moments unfold too fast before lee’s alarm suddenly goes off, yanking her from her trance. the blaring noise, which stills her movements in shock, are followed by you tugging on her head, urging her to pull away. her mouth is longing for more, but her stomach feels full, sated, and she knows anymore of your blood would be for greed’s sake only. but, god, she wishes she can remain with more and more of it resurfacing on your tongue, but she doesn’t know if your urgency is due to wanting to remain on track or because you’re in genuine discomfort. and that’s enough to have her pulling away, her teeth slowly slipping out of the warm clamp of your body. you let out a soft noise, jolting on her lap as the points slide out, and lee nearly groans at the loss of being so close to your neck.

which, now that she opens her eyes, adjusting back to the orange light of her room, is coated in smears and dried drops of blood, leaking from the two incisions wedged near your pulse point. lee’s stomach flares at the sight of it, a deep, dark part of her relishing in seeing you physically marked as hers. but, when another drop of blood slips from it, she’s reminded of your own sense of comfort, and murmurs, “does it hurt?”

your voice is quiet, fingers still curled in her hair. “a little.”

she sucks in a sharp sigh, before leaning in and pushing out a wad of spit onto the marks. her tongue darts out, spreading it along the patch of skin, trying to ignore the way you gasp from above. when she pulls back, she whispers, “that should take care of it.”

“yeah.” 

she swallows hard, her tongue itching to lick up your dried blood. but, you’ve seen enough of her depravity today, and her hunger is quelled for now. 

which only leaves her to now face you, the heat of the moment dissipated, the goal accomplished, and motive no longer pushing you two to remain in such an intimate embrace. but, she can’t find it in herself to coax you off her lap. and she needs to know what you’re thinking. if you hate her, think less of her, never want to see her agaon. she knows those may not be logical possibilities, considering how much you seemed to enjoy the feeding (a fact which she still is having a difficult time deciphering), but still. maybe the impassioned moment wearing off will reveal to you the grim reality of who – what – she is.

she pulls back, eyes roving from your neck to your chin to your nose before finally setting upon your eyes, which are wide, pupils dilated. lee feels struck from the lack of anger or despair they hold, your eyebrows relaxed and face absent from creases of tension. 

“that was nice,” you half-laugh, head ducking down in what seems like… embarrassment?

lee’s clears her throat. “nice? really?” 

“yeah, I, um…” you trail off, the hand in her hair straying to pick at her sweater. she takes notice of the nervous tic – it’s something she herself would do. “I don’t know why, but it felt, like, so good after the pain subsided. I, um… I came.”

“came where?”

you give her a pointed look, as though you’re silently urging her to piece it together.

which she does a second later, lips parting as a shock pulses through her, stunning her into moments of silence before she quietly splutters, “you, uh – you had an orgasm?” so, that’s what the shaking was.

you bite your lip. “yeah.” 

lee’s eyes flick to the way your teeth sink into your bottom lip, an impulsive thought bursting through her mind about latching her fangs into it and watching the skin split. she shakes it off. she’s demanded enough of that of you today, and now has an unexpected orgasm to deal with. god, even the sentiment has her feeling secondhand embarrassment. how did you come from this? she skims through the possibilities, the only sensical one being that the bite actually felt good enough to cause, or contribute, to you coming. but, how?

“I don’t get it,” she flatly says. “how did you, um… you know?”

“I don’t know. it just felt so good,” you say, your tone lowering to something husky that has lee nearly shivering.

“it–it did?” she quietly confirms, her voice becoming a quiet murmur to match yours. when she looks up, her breath hitches at how close you are, your eyes entrancing, just as tempting as your neck had been just moments ago. similarly to the hunger, something in her throbs to get closer and inch in for a taste. 

but, she can’t, she shouldn’t. your friendship is already hanging on a thread that grows thinner with every new breach of intimacy you two embark on this evening. you guys haven’t even spoken of what occurred when she fed from you and what it means. another intimate act is not the answer. besides, even if she throws caution to the wind, what then? she can’t ask you to be with her, not when it’d succumb you to a lifetime of temporary living situations and outgrowing her. she can’t–

god, you’re moving closer, your eyes half-lidded, so similar to that one time you got high with her. “it felt really good.” 

you’re so close that your moist breath tickles her nose, hot and heady. your lips, a bit chipped from the cold, glisten as you rove your tongue around them to smooth them over. lee nearly whines at the sight, her center beginning to throb as your warmth wraps around her.

your eyes flicker down to her lips, and she immediately shakes her head, her breaths embarrassingly raspy when she says, “no, we shouldn’t.”

“please,” you plead gently, the tip of your tongue hanging out as you gasp softly. “please, lee.”

her teeth grind together at how you say her voice, a little whine lingering at the edge of it. “I– we can’t, you’d suffer for your entire life.”

“I won’t if it’s with you,” you interject, your voice raised in what sounds like broken desperation. “please, we can talk about this, figure out a way to be together.”

it sounds so good, too good. but, she knows it’d only end in pain, and she can’t do that to you. she won’t. “you would get hurt. I can’t do that to you.”

“I’d rather have you and get hurt than not have you at all,” you whisper, your fingers sliding up to softly grip her face, coaxing her to stare into your eyes, which are glossy with tears and earnestly sharp. “please, lee.”

could that really be good enough? having you for just a few years within the long, long life she’s going to live? is the heartbreak and agony that’d result from those years ending better than the emptiness of never having had a chance with you? lee really doesn’t know – both feel like a unique kind of hell, except one is of loss and the other is of an unlived possibility. but, at least the first would give her memories to warm by her side for the rest of her life, no matter how lonely it may be.

that tender thought is only heightened when you chew on your bottom lip, looking like the encapsulation of innocence and purity as you watch her carefully. “lee?” 

can’t she let herself have this with you? just once, have something based on pure want rather than need and efficiency? the prospect feels so goddamn tempting the more it whirls around in her mind. without realizing, she feels an invisible string, hanging between the two of you, tugging her towards you. her eyes are honed in on your pretty lips, so inviting, so ready for the taking with your small pants and excited little sweeps of your tongue.

“we–we shouldn’t,” she whispers as she leans in, eyes hooded as they remain trained on your mouth. 

“please, please,” you plead under your breath, the two meek words making lee’s head spin with thoughts of how else you’d beg under different contexts. “we can talk about it after. let’s just have this now.”

you’re right – you guys should talk about it. but, maybe before you kiss. doing it after seems risky, for the act will have been done by then, already shoving you two past the threshold dividing friendship from romance. it’s not a good idea, it’s not–

lee lunges forward, capturing your lips in hers. her arms are immediately hooked around your torso, shoving you close to her. she’s greedy, so damn greedy for every inch of you, her hands running along your back, nails tracing mindless shapes over the slip of skin revealed from your shirt riding up. you shiver from the cold of her touch, and she adores how your body moulds with hers. you’re so soft, so real, so good for her. a sentiment that only becomes more apparent as the raw taste of your blood swaps between your mouths as the tip of your tongue desperately curls along her teeth, prodding for the bits and pieces of your dried blood staining them. she doesn’t know why you’re so desperate for it, why you want to taste yourself in her mouth so bad. maybe having a part of yourself in her mouth drives you as insane as it does her. though, the notion only sends lee’s thoughts to a much more shameless place, and she finds herself sinking her fingers harder into the plush of your thigh, forcing you to be wedged tighter against her body. your chests press together as you two lick, suck and devour, the union feeling downright feral.

spit begins to leak from your mouth as your lips hang open to release all the noises pent up in you. lee’s mind feels hazy from knowing she’s causing those noises, and she worms her tongue into your mouth. she’s had your blood, and now, she wants to taste every other part of you possible. she wants to suck your chest, bite your lip and lick off all the slithering arousal from that spot between your legs. she wants you all, completely. 

“I wanna do so much,” she mumbles right before wrapping her lips around your tongue and sucking, more of your spit bursting onto her mouth and down your chin. she releases with you a pop to lap at the skin, starving for more of you. 

“then, do it,” you moan.

“some of it is wrong,” she rasps, her mind flooded with all the shameful desires she’s held in her chest for months. 

you pull back from her, resting your forehead upon hers. “trust me, none of it is.” after a pause where nothing rings through the rooms but your little pants, you whisper, “I want you to do so many things to me. things I’m so embarrassed of. but, wanting it must mean it’s not too bad, right?”

still hung up on your admission of wanting her to do things to you, she takes a few long moments to fully digest your words. she’d hate to ever contribute to making you feel ashamed of the fantasies you have, and she’s sure she’d want them all just as much as you. the realization gives her pause – will you be that for her? someone whom she can share with all of these secretive wants she’s always kept buried within, only allowing it to have rare glimpses against the light of day. 

with the way you’re staring at her, so desirous and trusting in your touches and gazes, she feels that just maybe, you can be that for her. you’ve already seen her at her most primal state of necessity and survival. if you can accept her in her desperate, graceless, thoughtless need, maybe you can accept her in all the desires she’s kept hidden for so long. 

“right,” she breathes, her nose rubbing against yours as she pushes her lips against yours again, dragging her nails down your back as you wrap your hands into her hair. 

maybe for a moment in her great span of life, she can let herself fall into the sanctuary of being with you. maybe, for some time, she can be drained of shame with you. maybe, if she hopes hard enough, she can feel human with you. or, even stranger of a possibility, she can be anything but human with you. she can stop pretending.

it seems like a faraway, impossible dream. but, as you seize at her with unfiltered desire, holding her close as though she’s something pure and good and precious, her chest splits open with a flood of hope. a flood that whispers maybe you’ll hold her tenderly as a creature that, yes, is still stuck between monster and human, but just as deserving of a life. despite the coldness of her skin, the breaths she only takes out of habit, perhaps this kiss is a vow that you’ll keep her alive through something beyond physicality, something deep in her that still sparks tears and laughter and empathy. something like a soul.

she lets you write the promise upon her skin that night, drinking and drinking it up, and letting it wash all over her. and she continues to for many years to come.

[mercillery]

STRAWHATS AND WAXING…

WARNINGS: GENDER NOT SPECIFIED + NOT PROOFREAD

SUMMARY: Just hcs on how some of the strawhats are like during the waxing experience. You’re the one waxing them btw.

CHARACTERS: Luffy + Zoro + Nami

NOTES: I made this random mess because I got my face waxed for the first time a few days ago and they peeled a small part of my skin off. I wish I was joking.

When Luffy first hears about waxing, his initial reaction is pure confusion. He tilts his head, eyes wide, as if you've just told him about a new, mysterious kind of devil fruit. "Waxing? What’s that?" he'd ask, genuinely clueless, probably thinking it's some sort of bizarre new adventure or maybe even a weird dessert. In Luffy's world, anything unknown is either something to eat or something fun to do, so naturally, he'd assume waxing falls into one of those categories.

You’d have to break it down for him in the simplest terms possible: "It's a way to remove hair. Like, pulling it out so it’s not there anymore." He blinks a few times, processing this new information. "Remove hair? But why would anyone want to do that?" he’d ask, clearly baffled by the concept. For him, the idea of going out of your way to get rid of something as trivial as hair is as foreign as trying to understand why Sanji doesn’t just eat the ingredients instead of cooking them.

Once he finally gets it—or at least he thinks he does—his curiosity piques. But not for the reasons you'd expect. He might think the wax is some sort of edible goo (which, let's be honest, he'd probably try to eat). Or he might be intrigued because it sounds like a new kind of challenge. "Does it hurt? Is it like a fight?" he'd ask with an eager grin, already ready to face this 'hair-removal' challenge head-on. You can almost see the gears turning in his head as he imagines waxing to be some sort of mini-battle he has to win.

Now, Luffy isn’t exactly known for his patience or for thinking things through, so when you finally explain that it involves ripping hair out by the roots, he just shrugs it off. Pain? Discomfort? Those are small potatoes for the guy who’s taken down warlords and emperors. "Let’s do it!" he’d declare, without even a hint of hesitation. After all, in his mind, if it’s something new and weird, it’s got to be worth a shot.

Luffy, being the impulsive bundle of energy that he is, obviously doesn’t have a shred of patience—especially when it comes to something as boring as the prep work for waxing. The moment you start heating the wax, he’s already squirming in his seat, looking like he’s about to jump out of his skin. He watches you like a hawk, his eyes darting between the wax and your every movement. It feels like time has slowed down—that's how bored he is right now.

“Come on, just do it already!” he’ll exclaim, practically bouncing up and down with impatience. The waiting is torture for him, and you can tell he’s seconds away from grabbing the wax himself and slapping it on in whatever haphazard way he can manage.

It’s like trying to calm down a hyperactive kid who’s been told he has to wait five minutes before opening his birthday presents. Patience is not in his vocabulary, and the idea of sitting still while you carefully prepare everything is almost more than he can bear. And honestly, with Luffy, you know the clock’s ticking before he does something crazy, so you better hurry up.

 When the waxing process finally begins, Luffy is… well, to put it mildly, underwhelmed. He thought this whole thing was going to be a lot more exciting, maybe even a little dangerous—something worthy of a future Pirate King, you know? But instead, it's just you, applying warm wax and smoothing down strips with what seems like no end in sight. He starts fidgeting almost immediately, shifting around as if the chair is suddenly the most uncomfortable place in the world—it’s not, he’s just really bored. He might even start poking at the wax with a finger, trying to figure out what all the fuss is about.

“Can’t you go faster?” he’ll whine, looking at you with those big, expectant eyes that are practically begging for some kind of action. The boredom is killing him. Luffy’s the type who thrives on chaos and excitement, not sitting still while something as mundane as hair removal drags on. He’s clearly disappointed that this isn’t turning out to be the grand adventure he somehow imagined it might be.

However…

The moment that first strip is ripped off, everything changes. The look of boredom is instantly replaced by sheer shock as Luffy’s whole body jolts. His eyes go wide, and without missing a beat, he lets out a loud, explosive yell. “OW! WHAT WAS THAT?!” He practically leaps out of his seat, clutching the now-hairless spot as if he’s just been ambushed by an invisible enemy. It’s not that Luffy can’t handle pain—it’s the surprise of it all that really gets him.

Even though you carefully explained the whole process beforehand, he somehow managed to forget about that crucial detail. He was too focused on the idea of wax being some weird new eatable substance to pay attention to the part where you mentioned that it might, you know, hurt a bit. His reaction is pure Luffy: loud, dramatic, and completely honest. You can’t help but laugh a little as he rubs his arm, still looking at you like you’ve just pulled the ultimate prank of betrayal on him.

But if you think the pain is going to make Luffy tap out, you’ve got another thing coming. The shock may have caught him off guard, but backing down? That’s not in his nature. Instead, Luffy’s all in—gritting his teeth and getting ready for the next round, like he’s about to face down a sea king. The pain with each wax strip is real, but it’s also the one thing keeping him from reaching that extreme level of boredom that was starting to gnaw at him earlier.

Every time you rip off another strip, his eyes widen for a split second, and you can see him visibly brace himself, but then he’s right back to his usual self, shaking off the pain with a grin. “Hah! That one wasn’t so bad!” he’d boast, even though you can tell from the way he’s rubbing the spot that he definitely felt it.

And in true Luffy fashion, he starts to get into it, almost like he’s made a game out of enduring the waxing. He’ll throw out little challenges, like daring you to rip the next one off faster or harder, because if he’s going to do this, he’s going to go all out. “Come on, hit me with your best shot!” he’d say, grinning even though you know he’s still feeling each pull.

 But as determined as Luffy is, eventually, the boredom creeps back in. He’s the type who needs constant action, and once the novelty of the pain wears off, there’s not much left to keep him entertained. After a few more strips, you notice he’s not reacting as much—his bravado is still there, but the excitement has clearly faded. He starts to tolerate the pain to the point where it’s just another thing happening to him, like getting rained on during a storm.

Before long, you hear the unmistakable sound of snoring. You glance over to see him slouched in the chair, completely conked out as if he’s taking a nap on the Sunny. His body is so used to pushing through discomfort that it just decided, “Why not catch some Z’s?”

You don’t even need to check if he’s okay—those snores are a clear enough sign. You work as quickly as you can, ripping off the strips one after another, half expecting him to wake up at any moment. But he just keeps snoring away, completely oblivious to the fact that he’s still in the middle of a waxing session.

When you finally finish and wake him up, Luffy blinks groggily, still half asleep as you tell him it’s all done. It takes a moment for the realization to sink in, but when it does, his eyes light up like you’ve just told him there’s a mountain of meat waiting for him. He immediately sits up and admires his newly smooth, hairless legs with the same enthusiasm he’d have for discovering a treasure chest.

“Whoa! My legs are so smooth!” he exclaims, rubbing his hands over his legs in amazement. He’s completely mesmerized by the feel of his skin, as if it’s the coolest thing in the world right now. You can already tell that any discomfort or redness is the last thing on his mind.

And before you can even suggest taking it easy, Luffy’s already up and bolting out of the room, eager to show off his fantastic new smooth legs to the rest of the crew. “Hey, guys! Check this out!” he shouts, practically bursting onto the deck with a wide grin plastered on his face. He’s flexing his legs, striking exaggerated poses like he’s just achieved something monumental.

“Look how smooth my legs are!” he brags, showing them off to anyone who will listen. He’s so caught up in his own excitement that he’s completely oblivious to the lingering redness or any stares of confusion from the crew. Even if they’re wondering why he’s so excited about hairless legs, Luffy doesn’t care—he’s just thrilled to have something new to show off.

 If someone asks him how it was, Luffy will flash that signature grin and say, “It was easy!”—completely forgetting that he’d screamed bloody murder when the first strip was ripped off. To him, the pain is already a distant memory, replaced by the thrill of showing off his new, smooth legs.

Meanwhile, the rest of the crew is left in a mix of surprise and confusion. They’re all quietly wondering how on earth you managed to get Luffy to sit still for so long without him bouncing around or possibly even eating the wax. The idea of Luffy sitting through the entire waxing process without causing total chaos is almost more shocking to them than the fact that he went through with it in the first place.

When the idea of waxing is first brought up, Zoro’s reaction is about as predictable as you’d expect. He barely gives it a second thought before letting out a low, uninterested grunt and going right back to whatever he was doing—probably napping or lifting absurdly heavy weights. Grooming beyond the basics just isn’t his thing. In Zoro’s mind, as long as he’s clean and his swords are sharp, there’s no need for anything extra, especially something as seemingly frivolous as waxing.

His first response would probably be a blunt, “No way,” with a look that says he’s already decided the conversation is over. You can tell that he’s genuinely baffled by the idea. Why on earth would he willingly let someone rip out his hair for no reason? The whole concept just doesn’t compute with him, especially when it’s not going to help him train or fight better.

If you push the idea a little further, maybe teasing him about how even the toughest swordsmen could benefit from smooth skin, he’d probably snap back with something like, “Why would I let someone rip my hair out for no reason?” There’s a hint of irritation in his voice, as if the whole suggestion is almost offensive to his sensibilities. Zoro’s the type who lives by practicality—if it doesn’t make him stronger or help him achieve his goals, it’s not worth his time.

 The only way you’re getting Zoro to agree to waxing is if he’s somehow backed into a corner with no other way out. Maybe he lost a bet after one too many drinks, or someone bribed him with a stash of rare alcohol. Or maybe, just maybe, he’s doing it to shut someone up—most likely Sanji, who’s probably been teasing him nonstop about being too scared to go through with it. Even in that case, though, Zoro would make it crystal clear that this isn’t his idea of fun.

When he finally agrees, it’s with an irritated sigh and a muttered, “This better be quick,” as if he’s about to endure some grueling, unnecessary challenge. You can almost feel the weight of his reluctance hanging in the air, and he’s definitely giving you a look that says he’s only doing this because he has no other choice. It’s a rare moment, almost like spotting an endangered species in the wild—Zoro, the one who faces down powerful enemies without flinching, is now about to endure the ultimate test of patience.

This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and you know it. Getting Zoro to sit still for something as non-essential as waxing is nothing short of a miracle, so you best not let it slip through your fingers. It’s clear that he’s mentally preparing himself, as if this is just another battle to get through—one that he’s determined to endure but not exactly thrilled about.

  Like Luffy, Zoro has zero patience when it comes to things that waste his time, and waxing is no exception. The moment the process begins, you can practically feel the impatience and irritation radiating off him. As soon as you start heating the wax or doing any kind of prep work, Zoro’s already showing signs of frustration. He’s tapping his foot, arms crossed tightly over his chest, and scowling as if the entire process is some sort of personal insult.

“Is this really necessary?” He’d grumble under his breath, casting a sharp glance your way as if daring you to say otherwise. Unlike Luffy, who would probably be whining and fidgeting, Zoro’s complaints are more subdued but no less pointed. He’s the type to internalize his frustration, letting it out in low, growly mutters and the occasional heavy sigh. The whole thing feels like an unnecessary distraction to him—one that’s taking way too long for his liking. Still, he’s not backing down.

Every minute that passes just adds to his annoyance. He’ll let out a groan every time you mention there’s another step or that the wax isn’t quite ready yet. The delay is clearly getting on his nerves, and you can tell that if it were up to him, he’d already be done and back to his training. But instead, he’s stuck here, enduring this tedious process with nothing but his grumbles and scowls to show for it.

 When the wax is finally applied, Zoro’s expression remains as stone-faced as ever. There’s no way he’d let anyone see that he’s uncomfortable, especially over something like this. He sits there with a cold, indifferent look, acting as if the warm wax is just another insignificant obstacle in his day.

He’s not scared—Zoro doesn’t do scared. He’s just getting himself ready for the moment you rip off that first strip. It’s like he’s preparing for a fight—not with an enemy, but with the sharp sting he knows is coming. His eyes narrow slightly as the wax hardens, and you can almost see the gears turning in his head, calculating the best way to endure this new form of discomfort.

When you finally rip off that first strip, Zoro doesn’t scream, flinch, or give you the satisfaction of seeing him react. He’s been through far worse than this, and he’s not about to let something as small as waxing get the better of him. The sting is sharp and sudden, but Zoro just grits his teeth, his jaw clenching ever so slightly as he breathes out in a slow, controlled manner. That’s the only sign you get that he even felt it.

As more strips are applied and ripped off, Zoro’s irritation steadily grows—not because of the pain but because of the sheer, mind-numbing repetition of it all. For someone who thrives on action and hates being idle, this process is torture in its own right. The longer he has to sit still, the more his patience wears thin. You can see it in the way his brow furrows and the slight twitch in his jaw as he tries to keep his frustration in check.

“How much longer is this going to take?” he finally asks, his tone laced with impatience. There’s no mistaking the edge in his voice; he’s clearly reaching the end of his rope. His gaze flickers down to his still very hairy legs, and you can practically feel the silent judgment radiating off of him. It’s as if he’s questioning every decision that led him to this moment, where he’s stuck sitting through what feels like an endless ordeal.

A long, loud silence hangs in the air as your eyes trace over the hair still covering his legs. This is obviously going to take a very long time. But as you glance back at Zoro, the last thing you want to do is push him over the edge. With a small, reassuring smile and eyes that do their best to hide the truth, you muster up your most convincing tone and say, “Not long.” You know you’re lying through your teeth, but hey, it’s for the sake of Zoro’s sanity.

 But despite the mounting irritation gnawing at him, Zoro wouldn’t back down or even think about asking to stop. Once he’s committed to something, no matter how trivial or annoying, he sees it through to the bitter end. His stubbornness is practically legendary, and there’s no way he’d let something as simple as waxing break his resolve. The idea of quitting? Not even on his radar. Zoro isn’t about to give anyone the satisfaction of thinking he can’t handle it.

Besides, he knows for a fact that if he even hinted at tapping out, Sanji would never let him live it down. The thought of that smug blonde cook mocking him is enough to keep Zoro going, his pride and stubbornness fueling him through every irritating strip. So he toughs it out with grit in his jaw and steel in his eyes.

 Once the waxing ordeal is finally over, Zoro will act as though it is no big deal. There wouldn’t be any complaints or mentions of pain—he’d simply brush it off with his usual nonchalance. “Done already?” he might say, as if the whole thing was just a minor inconvenience, nothing worth talking about.

Internally, though, Zoro would feel a wave of relief wash over him. He’d never say it out loud, but he’s glad it’s over. The thought of sitting through another round of that repetitive, irritating process? No, thank you. He’s more than ready to move on to something that actually matters—like getting in some serious training, polishing his swords, or finding the nearest sunny spot on the ship for a well-deserved nap.

 Even if his skin is red and irritated afterward, Zoro wouldn’t show the slightest sign of discomfort. He’d carry on with his day like nothing happened, even if the soreness lingers with every move he makes. To anyone who might notice the redness and dare to ask how he’s feeling, he’d give them a simple, “I’m fine,” in that gruff, no-nonsense tone that shuts down any further questioning.

Don’t even think about suggesting that he try it again. Zoro’s already made up his mind—this was a one-time thing, and there’s no chance he’s ever doing it again. Once was more than enough, and he doesn’t see any reason to put himself through that kind of hassle a second time. If you’re ever brave enough to suggest it in the future, you’ll be met with a hard glare and a flat, uncompromising “no.” There’s no room for negotiation in that tone.

From that moment on, Zoro will subtly avoid any situation where waxing could possibly come up again. If he hears the word “waxing” in passing conversation, he won’t even acknowledge it; he’ll just walk away without a word, his mind already moving on to more important matters. The crew might chuckle about it behind his back, but Zoro doesn’t care. As far as he’s concerned, this is one experience he’s leaving firmly in the past. He literally wants nothing to do with wax ever again.

My girl is a seasoned veteran when it comes to waxing. She’s practically a walking encyclopedia on the subject, knowing all the different types of waxes, which ones are best for specific skin types, and which methods give the smoothest results. She could probably run a beauty salon in her sleep if she wanted to, though she’d charge a hefty fee for it. With all that being said, when you bring up the idea of a waxing session, she’s more than ready to jump on board. She’s no stranger to grooming and self-care; in fact, it’s something she prioritizes.

When the waxing begins, Nami is completely relaxed. She’s no stranger to this, and her confidence shines through. She'll engage in casual conversation with you, keeping the atmosphere light and friendly. However, despite her composed demeanor, she can’t entirely shake the anticipation of the pain that’s about to come.

The thought of wax strips being ripped off makes her just a little bit edgy. To ease her nerves, she might ask, “You’ve done this before, right?” The question comes out half-joking, but there’s an underlying need for reassurance. Whether you decide to tease her or not is up to you, but be careful—you might end up on the receiving end of her temper for playing with her like that.

She knows waxing isn’t exactly a painless experience, so she prepares herself mentally. When the first strip is pulled off, she might exhale sharply, but she won’t scream or cause a scene. Instead, she’ll bite her lip and maybe squint her eyes briefly before quickly regaining her composure. “That was nothing,” she’ll mutter, partly to herself, determined to get through the session with as little fuss as possible.

Throughout the waxing process, Nami would keep the atmosphere light and breezy, effortlessly weaving a stream of witty commentary to distract herself from the sting and keep things fun. “You know, I’ve had marines chasing me who were less painful than this,” she might say with a smirk, her voice steady despite the sharp tugs on her skin.

If Luffy or another crewmate happened to wander by during the session, Nami wouldn’t miss the chance to throw a playful jab their way. “Hey Luffy, I bet you’d cry like a baby if you tried this,” she’d tease, knowing full well that Luffy’s curiosity (and his competitive nature) would probably lead him to try it just to prove her wrong. Honestly, that might be how you got him to sit down for waxing in the first place.

But despite the jokes and banter, Nami wouldn’t let the conversation stray too far from the task at hand. She’s someone who can multitask like a pro, keeping up a lively chat while making sure you’re following the process correctly. “So have you ever tried sugaring? It’s less harsh on the skin,” she might ask casually, as if you’re both just having a normal conversation over tea rather than ripping hair out by the roots.

For the most part, though, the two of you would be chatting away like it was just another day. Nami’s not the type to let a little pain faze her, and she’d take the opportunity to catch up, swap stories, or maybe even get the latest gossip from you.

Once the waxing is done, Nami will pause to admire the results, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she runs her fingers over her freshly smooth skin. “Now this is what I’m talking about,” she’d say with a pleased smile, clearly impressed with how everything turned out. Any lingering redness or irritation wouldn’t phase her in the slightest; she’d already have some soothing lotion on hand, applying it with the practiced ease of someone who’s been through this routine many times before.

After making sure everything’s perfect, she’d flash you a grin. “You did a great job,” she’d say, a hint of genuine appreciation in her tone. And because she’s not one to keep something good to herself, she’d probably hold out her leg toward you with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Go ahead, feel how smooth they are,” she’d encourage, clearly eager to show off just how soft her skin is now.

 But just when you thought you were in the clear, happily basking in the relief that Nami enjoyed the waxing session despite the occasional sting, Nami gives you a smile—one of those sweet, too-innocent ones that immediately puts you on edge. Before you can even process what’s happening, Nami turns to you with that sweet, knowing smile of hers, holding up the waxing materials like a challenge. “Your turn!” she announces cheerfully, and it dawns on you that things are far from over.

ﾟ｡ ₍ ꙳⸌ ♡ BONUS ♡⸍ ꙳ ₎ ｡ﾟ

You blink, momentarily dumbfounded. “Wait, what? Nami, no, I’m good. Really. I’m totally fine.” But she’s not hearing any of it. “Come on, we’re going to have matching smooth legs! It’ll be fun!”

“Fun for who?” You protest, trying to back away as she advances with the wax strips. “Nami, seriously, I think I’ll pass. I’m more of a ‘keep my hair’ kind of person.”

“Oh, come on,” Nami insists, her smile widening as she edges closer. “It’s not that bad! We’re gonna match—smooth legs for everyone!”

You try to squirm out of it, but Nami’s determination is as solid as the Thousand Sunny itself. “Nami, please, we can talk about this! I’ll give you all my berries, or maybe I can wax someone else for you!”

“Not a chance,” she grins. “You’ve already committed. Now hold still!” Before you know it, she’s expertly applying the wax, and your protests turn into frantic pleas. “Nami, come on, let’s not do anything rash.”

“Too late!” she chirps as she preps the first strip. “You’re going to love this.”

“NAMI, WAIT—!”

With a swift motion, Nami rips off the first strip, and in that instant, you feel a jolt of fiery pain shoot through your leg. It’s like your soul has just been forcibly evicted from your body.

“AARRRRGHHHH!” The scream that escapes your lips is loud, raw, and absolutely blood-curdling. It echoes through the entire ship, startling birds from nearby trees and probably sending some poor marine scrambling for cover somewhere in the distance.

The rest of the crew pauses mid-task as they hear your shriek of horror.

“Sounds like someone’s having a rough time,” Zoro comments, raising an eyebrow but not moving from his spot.

“Are they… Are they torturing someone in there?” Usopp asks, wide-eyed.

But before anyone can even think of rushing to your aid, Nami’s calm, reassuring voice rings out, though it’s almost drowned out by your continued screams of agony. “It’s fine, it’s fine! Everything’s under control!” she calls, her tone as soothing as someone trying to calm a wild animal. “Just a little waxing!”

Inside the room, you’re practically convulsing, clutching your leg with a mix of horror and disbelief. “Nami…that was—ow—absolutely brutal! I think I’m dying!” Nami’s smile is as bright as ever as she pats your shoulder encouragingly. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. It isn’t that bad, just a little sting!”

The second strip is suddenly torn off, and you let out another soul-piercing scream that echoes throughout the entire ship. The sound is so loud and terrifying that even the fish swimming under the Thousand Sunny probably stop dead in their tracks.

Meanwhile, outside, the crew is collectively wincing with every scream you let out. “Maybe we should just let them handle it,” Robin suggests with a small smile, knowing better than to get in Nami’s way.

“Yeah, good luck to them,” Franky adds, cringing as another scream reverberates through the air.

Luffy, who’s lounging nearby, tilts his head and grins. “Hey, maybe they’ll have smooth legs like me!”

Back in the room, you’re gripping the sides of your seat, your knuckles white as you endure yet another strip being pulled off. “Nami, this has to be illegal in at least ten countries!”

“Relax, you’re doing great!” Nami reassures you, her voice as chipper as ever, even as you let out another ear-splitting shriek. “Just a few more and we’ll be done!”

“Just a few more?!” you practically wail, but it’s no use.

The crew collectively decides that maybe it’s best not to check in on you just yet. After all, they know better than to interfere when Nami’s on a mission.

[momentov1vere]

I present: some of my favorite quotes from Oathbound

+ my thoughts ! (not serious ones just what my mind was doing when they happened lol)

(spoilers ahead obviously!)

1.

“‘He doomed himself,’ Erebus says. ‘He knew what would follow.’

‘What’s more human than sacrifice?’ I snap.

Erebus’s eyes narrow.

‘What’s more human than risking what you have and what you are for someone else?’” - pg. 38

YESSSS I love this little selbree moment <3 Bree defending her loved ones will always be my favorite thing :D

2.

“‘You dance with treason today, Scion Davis.’

‘If treason is truth, then perhaps I do. Or perhaps I merely tire of your version of loyalty.’”- pg. 128

I’m sorry Nick I was unfamiliar with your game?? This entire scene was iconic for him I am obsessed with his character development

3.

“He can't see me, but I can just make out the glow of his eyes. His irises are green with fury, and I imagine what I would look like to him if he could see me.

A young brown-skinned girl in a long formal gown, striding toward him with her palms out wide. A girl with deep purple magic flowing from her hands to feed the structure encasing him. A girl raising that sphere into the air, levitating him from the ground. A girl trained by the deepest Shadow himself, her teeth bared in an electric grin.” - pg. 338

THATS MY GIRL <3333 I love this scene so much I LOVE BADASS BREE !!!!

4.

“‘Are you really going for that dagger strapped to your thigh, right out here in the open?’

My left fingers have already grasped the hilt. How long had he known the dagger was there? When did he notice? In the darkened basement? when we were pressed together in the elevator, torso to torso and legs to legs? ‘No.’

‘You are.’ Wonder fills his expression. ‘Look at you. Incredible. You’re a gorgeous, powerful, violent little enigma who would stab me in front of all these people just to make a point.’”- pg. 387

RAHHHHH Nick is literally the biggest yearner ever, wdym you have a wonder-filled expression when your gf(?) is about to stab you lmao I love them

5.

“‘The first time we kissed—actually, every time we kissed there was an ache, a burn, a. . .’ He shakes his head, shrugging helplessly. ‘I don’t know. Kissing you feels like a reminder that. . .’

‘That you’re still alive.’ The words leave me before I know them.

His eyes snap to mine, recognition flooding them. ‘Yes. Like climbing a cliff at the ocean, both feet solid beneath you, and peering over the edge. Not to jump, just to—to—’

‘Just to see.’ My heart pounds in my throat. ‘Just to. . .’

I can’t finish, but Nick picks up where I falter. ‘Just to feel. To know what it’s like to stand right where the world begins and ends. Right at the infinite.’ His chest rises with every breath, his blue eyes sparking into something raw and unguarded. ‘Kissing you is like touching the sky, like touching the horizon. God, Bree, it’s even like touching the—’

‘The fall,’ I whisper. ‘Not just standing at the edge, but going over. All of it.’

‘Yes,’ he says quietly. ‘All of it.’”- pg. 425

I was giggling and kicking my feet during this entire interaction breenick will be the death of me 😭

nick davis i was familiar with your game but i was unaware that you had THIS much game

6.

“‘I’m drowning in you, Bree. I shouldn’t want to. I should fight it. But I can’t.’

My eyes flutter closed, then open, I inhale a ragged breath. Exhale an answer.

‘So drown.’” - pg. 484

AHHHHHHHH

7.

“‘You had to fail, Bree. You had to fall.’

‘Why?’ I exclaim.

‘Because you had to rise.’ He steps closer. ‘A true leader has to know every side of her battle: the wins, the losses, the enemies, the allies, the good, and the bad. And she has to know who has her back, without the titles and legacies.’” - pg. 585

Valec casually dropping some of the best advice ever he’s so amazing; I liked him in Bloodmarked but he’s become a new favorite bc of Oathbound I think

8.

“‘Loving other people and losing them hurts. And loving them when they’re gone? Opens up the wound again. Now, I’m no expert, but I think the only way to live with grief is to seek its antidote. For me, that’s learning how to live my life without your mom in it and figuring out how to be your dad without her beside me, while remembering how she made me feel about myself. If I don’t do that, I’m pretty sure I’ll forget how to love other people altogether, not because I can’t, but because I won’t remember how. Loving folks is a practice, baby.’”- pg. 593

Edwin Matthews once again coming in swinging with the greatest advice ever; I always tear up when it’s a scene with him 🥲

9.

“‘Even when you choose yourself, you turn hope into something tangible for the rest of us. Even when you choose not to fight, you turn the tides. If you ask me, that right there is the soul of a king.’

‘Soul of a leader,’ my father adds.

‘A hero,’ says Nick, eyes fond.

‘An icon!’ Zoe shouts, grinning.” - pg. 607

Bree’s support system >>>>

10.

“‘What would I gain from giving up my advantage? I could simply order you to give my crown to me as soon as you arrive.’

I expected that question, and so my answer is ready.

‘You could,’ I say. ‘But if you do not, and you hear me out, you’ll receive something from me that I will never offer you again.’

‘Oh?’ he says. ‘And that is?’

‘My mercy, Erebus,’ I say. ‘My mercy.’” - pg. 609

badass Bree makes another appearance and this scene is going triple platinum in my brain 😁

11.

“‘Any chance you’d stay in the car?’

‘Nope,’ I say.

‘Right.’ He nod to himself as he unlocks his door. ‘Why do I even ask?’

‘Hope is good for the spirit,’ I say brightly, and get out.” - pg. 611

this one’s just silly but I love the little lighthearted moment before everything goes to shit ! 😁

12.

“‘Nicholas Davis and Selwyn Kane.’ Sel ignores Nick’s attempt to redirect him. ‘The sun and the moon. You are the warmth and the light and I am the bitter deep cold, or do it has always appeared. But we know the truth, don’t we, Nicholas?’

. . . ‘Does she know that the moon lives in you, too?’

. . . ‘She does,’ Nick whispers. ‘Just like she knows the sun lives within you.’ - pg. 621

brickwyn/selnick crumbs yippee!! but in all seriousness the nick/sel dynamic is so interesting and I will be obsessed with it forever even if brickwyn is not endgame (though this book has made me think it might be? they’re all so connected now it kind of transcends romance idk)

13.

“Love. Trust. Both a practice, I decide.” - pg. 625

this one is just great, I love Bree going learning from her dad but using his quote to create her own belief <3

ok thats all of them! I’ll have more after I do a reread I’m sure but for now I need to try to not go insane waiting for book 4 let this one stew in my brain for a bit !

[dontmakemechooseanli]

Chapter 2- Begin Again

Chapter 2 of When the Tide Comes In

Poly! Love and Deep Space x MC! Reader

WC: 2.4k

TW: descriptions of grief and canon typical amnesia/ medical discussions

 There is a quietness that descends in the mornings that will always unsettle Xavier. Once—lifetimes ago—he used to look forward to the early mornings. A time when he was allowed to pursue his passions without the constant watchful eyes of his father's guards, with the cynical thoughts that swirled, reminding him constantly of his duty. A time when every morning was a new day with you. After he left, he began to sleep in. It wasn’t on purpose—more a delay of the day. If he woke up late, then he would have to move, to go, to fight. There would be no time for grieving the life he left—the life he had chosen. The life he inadvertently condemned himself and the rest of his crew to. But recently, he had been getting up earlier again. The Association had originally been abuzz with seeing Xavier around the office during normal business hours—not only when he was reporting back from some top-secret mission that he usually just made for himself. The coincidence that it aligned with the new recruits being initiated was not lost on the more rumor-prone of the Hunters. Xavier—well-known for ditching team-building outings—suddenly becoming a staple at them? Well, if she were there… The betting pool about when the announcement would be officially made was a tight race. Near daily dissections of your Moments feed happened over breaks (soft launching had been strictly outlawed after the first post of you teasing about someone for not winning a plushie—there were too many comments to determine exactly whom you were speaking of, and the person who lost because of that threw an absolute fit, so the general rule became it had to be said clearly). It’s been two years, and still no definitive answers, and the betting pool has nearly grown out of control. So, of course, Xavier knew about the bets. When he would walk through the office toward your desk, he had to fight not to let the blush take over his face (his ears were a lost cause; he could barely look in your direction without them pinkening) because deep down he enjoyed it. He enjoyed people thinking that he was yours. That his coworkers no longer asked him out, that his colleagues would make vague comments about partners and look to him for advice. So, it is no surprise that his phone had been ringing, buzzing, and humming until it had inevitably died hours ago. After the first few messages had popped up: “Hey Xavier, keep us updated.” “Let us know if you need anything.” “Hey man, I am so sorry.” “Take the time you need.” He’d put it on the windowsill and turned his back. The sun was coming through the window again. Fourteen hours since the world ended.

The night before had been suffocating. The trauma unit room was not small, but even the largest ballroom would have felt too small given the “circumstances.”

After Rafayel had strolled into your room the night before, the other men followed, but there was an unspoken respect that each man be allowed a moment alone with you. Each man seemed to understand that they needed to be assured that even if you didn’t know them, you were still you. You were still alive.

Your wide eyes and gentle smile disarmed Rafayel. In his head, he had assumed that he would have to try harder to calm you, but he rolled with it. He wanted to scream and fall apart. But you needed him. It only took him looking at you for the bond to sing, as it always did when he was in your presence. “Hi. A blanket would be nice. It’s cold in here; you’d think they’d keep hospital rooms warmer. Who are you, Mr. Weatherman?” You can do this, Rafayel. You’ve done it a dozen times before. “Hmmm. That’s a big question.” He turned to the cabinet, taking a breath before opening it. “Well, I am a painter. An artist. I was teaching at the university, but that got boring after my favorite students graduated.” Grabbing a baby blue blanket from the cabinet, he very dramatically unfurled the folded cloth, draping it over you. “Okay, sorry—Mr. Artist Painter Professor,” you said with a giggle, your head tilting at him. “Well, that’s a mouthful. My name is Rafayel. Is that what you were asking, cutie?” “You sure are something, Rafayel. I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.” He tries to hide the flinch, and he thinks he does a good job. If you were, well, you—you would’ve noticed the downward twitch of the left corner of his mouth, the elongated blink he took to steady himself, the shifting of weight on his feet. “Well, Y/N, I think you have some other people who want to meet you, so I’ll leave you to it. When I come later, I’ll bring some watercolors—this room of yours is so drab.”

You laugh, refuting that it isn’t your room, but he can’t turn around. If he does, you will see the tears in his eyes. And you can’t see him cry. Sirens weren’t pretty criers.

Caleb was the next to enter the room. A few minutes had passed after the artist had scuffled by—the self-assured saunter replaced by feet being dragged against linoleum, a slight squeak being heard that was meant to cover the gasping breaths he took. With any other group of people, it would have done the job, but this was not a normal group of people (half barely even met the definition). Caleb didn’t often feel grateful he couldn’t feel much, but in the moment, the memories of you small and wrapped in a hospital gown flashed in front of his eyes. He was glad he couldn’t feel that guilt, that pain, that feeling. No, you needed strong and capable Caleb. “Hi, my name is Caleb.” Dammit. He had promised this would never happen again. He had given up everything to make sure this never happened again. Deep breaths Caleb- she needs you. “You are probably confused and that’s okay, Pips. It’s okay.” “I am a little confused. But the doctor told me it’ll be okay; to not worry too much. That I had people who would help me. Shoot, where are my manners? I’m Y/N.” I know. Sometimes it’s the only name I can remember. When you were both children it had almost been easier. He would distract you, play around, push you on the swings, let you cry on his shoulder. You still were hopelessly positive and not near as agitated as should be expected- you weren’t an entirely blank slate, he knew that much. You would remember small things, your name, the city you were born in, your birthday, facts of life but anything further than that would make you struggle. He had never pushed in the past to get you to remember- what even was there to remember? The pain, the experiments? The fact that the woman who was raising you was the very one who put you in this situation? No. He hadn’t pushed last time but he had a feeling starting over wasn’t going to be as easy this time. Last time he had nothing to grieve when you forgot but now he had lost everything. What did he have if not you? 

But he didn’t say that- didn’t explain that to you. Instead he said simply, “You sure do have people who will take good care of you, Pips. For as long as you need.” The smile you gave him was bright but for the first time he saw a bit of hesitance in it, a question.

“You can ask me anything. Don’t worry I won’t be mad.” “Are you and Rafayel the people who care about me?” A sharp inhale. “Yeah, we are some of them.” “But I don’t know you. I can’t- I can’t..It’s dark.” A tear slipped out of your eye. “It’s okay.” he grabbed your hand as it went to wipe your face. Delicately with his right palm he cupped your cheek using his thumb to wipe away the tear making its way down your face. “We can hold onto the memories for you until you take them back. As long as we need to love, as long as you need.” He was greeted with a small smile with a few more tears. “Now there’s that smile.” You giggle and he sighs tenderly, “There are a few more people who want to meet you- is that okay?” “I think so.” He isn’t sure when he sat on the bed, hovering over you but he stands up and goes to make towards the door. He feels you grab his hand so he turns back to you like a magnet, like always. “Caleb. Thank you.” “Of course love. Anything you need- anything.” He squeezes your hand gently and forces himself to cross the room and go through the door.

Sylus doesn’t know why he offers the Colonel a hug. They had never been friendly. Hell- a few months ago he had been determined to kill the man for attempting to collar you, to steal your independence. But after a little digging he had begun to feel sympathy for the man. If anyone understood what it was like to be forced to become a murderous beast- well, it would be Sylus. He had a feeling the Colonel was doing it for you and again if anyone understood sacrificing their life for you- well, Sylus wasn’t in the habit of being a hypocrite. He was surprised the Colonel took him up on the hug. It was brief but crushing at the same time. Sylus knew Caleb could control gravity but it seemed the man took “the weight of the world on his shoulders seriously”. If Sylus felt tears from the Colonel he would never tell. 

Sylus had expected the knight in shining armor to already be at your side when Caleb released him and walked down the long hallway, typing quickly into the device at his wrist; but there he was. Quietly Xavier murmured, “You go, she doesn’t like sleeping in the dark. I don’t mind sitting with her.” In any other setting he would take that as an insult, as a stab at him from the hero. Stylus knew Xavier was Lumiere- he had been on the other end of the sword before after all. But at this moment there was nothing but honesty in his eyes. Well. Honesty and grief but Sylus didn’t hold that against the man. He had dealt with this before- at least this time you didn’t think he had murdered your family. This time you weren’t disgusted by him, right? Your eyes were slightly red when he appeared in your room but upon seeing him you quickly wiped your eyes and a slightly strained smile appeared on your face. You would fool anyone but them- always so strong, weren’t you. “You look a bit like a floofed up kitten, sweetie.” “Well excuse you- Hey, what are you doing!”  Sylus had taken to keeping a pocket comb and a scrunchie in his pocket ever since you had reentered his life. You never had one on you but you also hated doing just about anything when your hair was in your face. Easing the comb through your tangled hair your body relaxed into his touch. Tying your hair into a low ponytail to keep it off your neck. “There we go- now you look like a well groomed kitten, much better sweetie.” With a pat to the top of your head- you narrowed your eyes at him “Aren’t you something Mister-.” “Just Sylus please. You’ll ruin my reputation if you call me Mister- people will think I’ve gone polite.” “Isn’t that a good thing?” “I couldn’t think of a worse fate, sweetie.” “Y/N” “Nice to make your acquaintance.” “Just Sylus you are strange.” “You’ve called me worse so I’ll take this as a win.” You blinked at him, your glare lessening and he felt his heart clench. Shit. “I’m sorry.” “Why?” “I am sorry I have been mean to you. I am sorry I don’t know what to say.” You look lost and the half of his heart that is in his chest splinters. “Oh, don’t apologize dearest. I deserve it and more. There is nothing you could say to make me mad at you.” He pats you twice more on the head. “Now I think it is time you get some rest- the rain is starting soon and that will put you right to sleep.” As he says that the lights in the hallways dim- shifting to the nighttime setting to allow the patients a reprieve from the harsh LEDs. He watches you startle and eyes dart as your room’s lights dim. 

“It’s okay princess, I’ll take care of it.” Your eyes dart to Xavier. You see the two men acknowledge each other with a small nod as Sylus passes through the room, disappearing beyond the door. “The dark?” “Yeah-” Your jaw drops as the man begins to glow. Well, not literally. Small firefly-like orbs of light dance around him in a mesmerizing way. He smiles sheepishly at you as he plops in the chair that is next to your bed. “Wow. That’s so cool- you can just do that? Wow.” You lay back against your pillows, turning on your side to face the man. “Yep, that’s me. Xavier the professional night light.” You giggle at him, “Well Xavier the professional night light I am Y/N the professional sleeper. Thank you for your service.” A slight chuckle releases from him as he tips his head back, closing his own eyes. “Sleep well princess. We’ll be here when you wake.” 

Xavier was thinking about quiet mornings as the nurse ushers you to the bathroom to assist you with a shower. As the other men each enter the room, most still wearing the clothes from the night before, Zayne takes a glance at the phone that is beeping incessantly on the window seal. “Are you going to answer that?” The blonde meets his questioning gaze his own eyebrow twitching up, “I think I will enjoy the last moments of this quiet morning Doctor. I think we have some things to discuss before we worry about what’s on the other end of those messages.” 

Rafayel, draping himself over the futon under the window, reaches up and turns the offending thing off. “Well- this fucking sucks. What now?” 

A/N: Will be opening a tag list for this series so please comment if you want to be added! Comments, reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated!

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 33 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

As it turns out, the Underworld provides a whole slew of services designed to deal with circumstances just like this. Medical care, emergency home repair–and body disposal, all for the price of a handful of gold coins.

You sit with John as a man your lover so descriptively calls Doc sews up Wick’s wounds. There is blood on your face, and your silk pjs. Dog sits on your foot, clearly anxious about letting either one of you out of his sight. In the same spirit, John’s good hand is clasped in yours, or yours in his–neither of you have been able to let go. 

Another man known simply as Charlie orchestrates the removal of the collection of corpses through the house. Yet more tattooed tradesmen work on boarding up the blown out window in the kitchen with a big piece of plywood. 

It’s a miracle, really, the house didn’t burn down. 

“Thought you’d left all this behind you, John?” asks Doc, making a neat knot in the former assassin’s side. 

“So did I.”

“What will you do?”

“The same thing I always do when I’m lost. Talk to Winston.” 

The two men share a snort of laughter you don’t entirely understand. 

When Doc finishes with John he gives you a bottle of pain meds, and a bottle of what are, as far as you can tell, pharmacy grade amphetamines. “In case he has to work again.” You take them with wide eyes and a nod, praying to whatever devil might be listening that that won’t be necessary. 

You’re fairly certain that no one up above is interested in any of you anymore. 

You killed a man. 

You killed a man with a gun to save John, and you do not feel sorry at all. 

Numb, perhaps, but not sorry. 

John groans as he adjusts himself on the couch. You reach out to steady him, helping him best you can. He is heavy, and you look at the stairs with doubt. “Maybe we should sleep down here tonight?”

He blinks at you, undoubtedly thinking you incredibly naïve. “We can’t stay here, baby. It’s not safe.”

“Where will we go?” 

“We’re going to the city,” says John, sounding weary as a man twice his age. “I know a place. Can you drive?”

You have to admit you’re a little dizzy from the whiplash. In the span of a few hours, you’ve gone from being locked up like a princess in the castle, to murdering a man, and now John is going to let you drive?

He must read the blatant surprise on your face. He doesn’t like it, his grip tightening on your hand. “These are bad, bad men who would eat you for breakfast. You’ve got to stick with me.” 

You bristle at this, because even though you absolutely should be thinking about escape? You’re not. You were thinking about how you were going to manage taking care of him in this state, and it pisses you off that he’s still so fucking worried about controlling you that he can’t see the writing written in blood on the wall. 

Or at least, written in blood, on the kitchen floor. 

“You asshole,” you say for the second time tonight. It wins you a lordly scowl that for some fucked up reason thrills you to the tips of your toes. But it’s too late to turn back now. “Were you there, when I fucking shot a man for you? Maybe this is just business as usual for you, but it’s fucking new to me.”

He clenches his other fist on his knee, seeming to count to ten with his eyes closed. “I’m sorry,” he finally grinds out. “I know…Are you alright?”

You guess that you put up a good enough front that he forgot that maybe he should ask. Good on you. Maybe.

“No, not really,” you answer truthfully. “But I don’t have any choice, do I?”

He actually has the grace to cast his eyes down, seeming to really think on what you’re saying. “You had a choice,” he muses quietly, his thumb sliding over your knuckles. “In the kitchen.”

You stroke Dog’s head for something to do with your other hand, which is shaking. Your thundering heart beats painfully in your chest. From the corner of your eye you take in this anomaly of a man. This man, who kidnapped you, who has been playing mental games with you for months, who has kept you prisoner, who has taken your body to heights you never even knew were possible, who has spoiled you, who has adored you and degraded you all in the same breath–this man, who somehow, you know you love with your whole heart. 

“John…” He tilts his head to look at you, his eyes glazed with pain. You’re not sure if it’s physical or mental at this point. “Did you really think I could shoot you?”

Perhaps he did, because in his mind, the only acceptable answer to a wrong against you is murder. 

Perhaps in the brutal world he’s occupied since he was just a child, it is. 

Suddenly he can’t meet your eyes. “Maybe I would deserve it, y/n.”

The fact that he knows that is definitely a good sign. 

But the tricky truth is–it wasn’t all bad. And the good? The good was almost worth the bad, you dare to think now that you’ve survived it. You know better than to say that, because you know you are in the midst of a negotiation right now.

“I love our life together, when you’re sweet to me, John. I only want to murder you when you boss me around. And I only mean that figuratively.”

A huff of laughter escapes him; there is a glimmer of hope in his miserable dark eyes. You know it’s insane, after everything he’s done, but you feel sorry for this man. 

“If you would just treat me as an equal, instead of constantly trying to control me…” I’ll be your ride or die. You can’t bring yourself to say it aloud yet. He already has enough power over you. “Do you think…that’s something we can work on?”

He could have pushed you over with a feather, when slowly he nods, bringing your knuckles to his lips to kiss them. “If you don’t want to murder me after everything I’ve done to you…maybe anything is possible.”

You on the other hand, can only blink. Did you just hear what you think you heard? 

That blood-pressure induced ringing has returned to your ears again. The explosion and gunfire surely didn’t help, but somehow this is far more momentous to you. Your surprise for the magnitude of this admission surprises you, and you must show it in the lift of your brows. It makes him smile ruefully; you’re not sure why the sight of it squeezes your heart so. 

You are not so stupid as to think this traumatic event has healed him miraculously, knocked some loose screw back into place. The mind doesn’t work like that. But just maybe, it did put some things into perspective. You are allies now against a mutual cause, rather than enemies of each other. And just maybe, when you tell him that you don’t want to leave him, he will actually believe you from now on. 

“Anyway…I can drive the Rover…” you say with confidence, even though you are still utterly flabbergasted he’d even give you the opportunity. “I don’t know about the ‘Stang.” The Mustang you think you could manage in an emergency, but it’s been a long time since you had to drive a stick, and being responsible for his baby doesn’t sit well with you. 

“That will do.” He grumbles, mostly to himself, “I’ve got to teach you to drive. There is so much I need to teach you.”

You’re not sure what he means by that. You are too tired to hash it out completely right now, but you sense that something, a whole lot of something, has changed in the past few hours between you.  

He makes to get to his feet with a groan–and can’t quite. “Maybe I am too old for this shit,” he grouses. 

“John, you got shot, stabbed, and fought off ten heavily armed assassins. I think you can count tonight as a win.”

Again, that bitter huff of laughter escapes him. You help John to his feet, trying to steady him as best you can. If he’d injured one of his legs badly you would be so fucked; there was no way you could carry him.

“Um…who were they?” You realize you haven’t even talked about who was just trying to kill him. You suppose you already think you know the answer, but then again you could be wrong.

“Camorra goons, I’m pretty sure,” hisses John, clearly in pain. “Guess I should have kept someone alive for questioning…I’ve always been bad at that.”

You press your lips, because it shouldn’t be funny…but if you don’t laugh about it, you might cry. Your life has been so weird lately, it almost just seems par for the course in a way. 

“John…” you chortle and sigh. “Surely the d’Antonio kid gets the picture now? You’ve killed everyone he’s sent after you? Why can’t these assholes just leave you alone?” Why the prince of the Camorra would court such trouble is beyond you. 

“Good question.” He groans as he takes a step, his good arm slung over your shoulder. “The young ones, especially the second or third generation, think they have to prove themselves. Or maybe…he loved his mother and wants me dead. It’s a faint possibility.” 

“Italian boys and their mothers.” 

John chuckles a little, then winces. “Please, sweetheart,” he entreats you. “Don’t make me laugh.” 

Maybe you are a silly creature, but hearing the endearment for you warms something in your heart that had been left out in the cold for too long. “Fine,” you agree, even though humor is absolutely your biggest coping mechanism. “Tell me what we need to do next?” 

“We need to pack.”

“Ok. What?”

“Suits, and guns.” 

You guess in a nutshell, that was the essential distillation of his world, once upon a time. Now, quite against your will, you both are being kicked back into it. By the look in John’s dark eyes, for some reason you have a feeling it’s the Camorra who are going to regret it. 

[auras-moonstone]

girl, i’m in dire need of some jack angst!! (i know, i’m crazy for wanting my heart to be ripped out by your beautiful writing in the saddest way possible😂)

maybe he and the reader have been dating for a few months and have their first big fight, maybe he’s been a little too close to a girl the reader has been having weird gut feelings about. they break up after some harsh words were said, and a few weeks later the reader sees that he’s dating the girl he told her not to worry about 👀

a few months pass, and jack and the girl break up bc he can’t get over the reader, and he tries to win her back, but soon realises he lost her for good when he sees her ar an event or something with someone else, and it’s clear that they’re more than friends.

(i kinda envision this as actress!reader x jack. and the event could be the oscars + the reader’s new bf could also be an A list celeb)

lyrics that could inspire you:

“'Cause there we are again when I loved you so, Back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known” - All Too Well (Taylor’s Version)

“I'm sitting eyes wide open and I got one thing stuck in my mind, Wondering if I dodged a bullet or just lost the love of my life” - I Don’t Wanna Live Forever

thank you so much and i’m sorry if this req is all over the place 😂😂❣️

hii! this might be one of the saddest things i’ve written yet. hope you like it<3

break me like a promise — jack champion

word count: 2,949

pairing: jack champion x actress!fem!reader, louis partridge x fem!reader (brief).

summary: jack breaks y/n’s heart, and after ten months he is determined to win her back, he sees her being happy with someone else.

author’s note: when i read “readers new bf could be a celeb” i knew i had to include the other love of my life aka louis partridge aka london boy.

Y/N AND JACK HAD MET THROUGH JENNA ORTEGA. The latter and Y/N both worked for Netflix, so they bumped into each other in lots of events and eventually became super close. And, knowing how big of a Scream fan Y/N was, Jenna invited her over to set and that’s where she met Jack.

No one could deny that sparks flew instantly between them, not even the two people involved. And that scared Y/N a bit, because her last relationship had left her with insecurities and trust issues, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready to dive into another relationship.

Jack had been very understanding about it, and told her that they should start as friends. He assured her that he would wait as long as she needed to, that she was worth it. And after months and months of therapy, Y/N finally felt ready to try things with Jack.

They were in a lavender haze for months. Her relationship with Jack was unlike anything Y/N had experienced before. The love she felt for him was so strong that there was no way to put it into words. Jack was her best friend—he had held her hand as she healed, and drew stars around the scars that the previous relationship had left on her. And she never would have thought he was going to be the one who made the wounds bleed again.

Jealousy is often seen as a toxic feeling, and after talking with her shrink about it, Y/N came to a conclusion—the toxicity depends on the way you handle that feeling. So Y/N decided to put her fears on the table, instead of jumping into conclusions. That’s what she thought would be the most healthy thing to do. Jack would be honest with her, and the thoughts that had been eating her alive would disappear.

But as soon as she said the words and saw Jack’s expression of irritation, Y/N knew she should’ve kept her mouth shut.

“Seriously? I can’t have female friend now” Jack spat furiously.

“What?! Of course you can. That’s not what I’m saying” Y/N said calmly. “I just… she clearly has feelings for you. And I’m not saying you should stop hanging out with her, I just need to know if she’s just a friend to you… or if there is room for more.”

“I can’t fucking believe you’re telling me this.” he shook his head in disbelief.

“Jack, I’m not accusing you of cheating or anything, really. You’ve been spending so much time with her…” more than with me, she wanted to add. But that would make things worse. “and I just have this weird feeling. I need to know how you really feel, that’s it. If you tell me you don’t like her, I’ll believe you. But please be honest with me.”

“What I really feel is that you’re suffocating me with your shitty problems.” his demeanour was so calm, but his words were sharp as knives, and they cut right through her heart. She had trouble believing the words had actually left his mouth. “I’ve waited for you for months, I helped you through all of it. And now you’re making this shit up? Grow up.”

Y/N felt like throwing up. She felt like she was about to spit her heart. “You don’t mean that.” her voice broke. “In all of these months, when have I ever brought up one of your female friends? Not once. Because I know they are only friends. But with her, Jack, I just feel like there is something more. And yes, maybe I’m overthinking, but that’s why I’m asking. That’s it. I’m just asking, Jack.”

“Stop being so fucking paranoid. I get that your ex cheated on you, but stop seeing ghosts everywhere.”

“Why are you being so mean? Why are you avoiding the question? It’s simple, Jack. Do you have feelings for her?” Y/N asked, the knot in her throat grew in size when she noticed he couldn’t look her in the eyes. “Jack?”

“We’re just friends, jesus!” he said annoyed. Y/N wanted so bad to play dumb, to pretend she couldn’t see he was lying.

“You know I can read you like a book, right?” she asked softly, sad. “When you lie, you can’t look me in the eyes, you play with your hands and bite the inside of your cheeks.”

“Y/N… fucking drop it. I’m tired of this”

“We are over, Jack” she tried to walk towards the door, but he grabbed her and pulled her against his chest, trapping her in his arms.

He saw the tears steaming down her face and cursed himself. “Shit. No, please. Let’s talk. I’m sorry” he sound like he was about to cry, and Y/N knew she needed to leave. Because even though he had hurt her, the soft spot in her heart was still reserved for him.

“No, let’s just leave it like this because if you keep talking, I’m afraid I might end up resenting you, and I don’t want that.”

“I love you, Y/N” Jack hugged her tightly. “Please let’s fix this. I promise you nothing happened with her, and nothing will.”

“I love you too, but I don’t believe you. I’m sorry, but I can’t do this anymore” and so she stepped away for the arms she loved the most in the world and left without glancing back. If she did, she knew she wouldn’t be able to leave.

EVER SINCE SHE WALKED OUT OF JACK’S HOUSE TWO WEEKS AGO, Y/N HAD BEEN OVERWORKING HERSELF TO AVOID HER THOUGHTS OF JACK CREEPING INTO HER MIND. She had stayed out of social media, and had deleted Jack’s number from her phone to avoid temptations. Her friends kept their eyes on her all the time, worried about the inevitable breakdown. You can only hold back for so long before it becomes too much.

Louis, her co-star, had been by her side as much as he could. And, like every morning, he was waiting for her on her trailer with a caramel macchiato and a shiny grin on his handsome face.

“And a chocolate chip muffin?” Y/N asked, seeing the mouth-watering treat next to her Starbucks drink. “What’s the special occasion?”

Louis stared at her, frowning. Not any indications of having had a break down, not even puffy eyes, which meant one thing—she hadn’t seen the pictures yet. “Nothing” he blurted, showing his charming smile. “Just saw it and had to buy it.”

“You really need to stop buying me these breakfasts, Lou. I’m going to get cavities” Y/N said taking a sip of her overly sweet drink.

“But look at how happy it makes you. Cavities will be worth it, don’t you think?”

“You may have a point. Scoot over” she told him, nudging his leg with her foot. Louis moved his body so that she could sit next to him on the small couch. It was not made for two people, so they were basically pressed against the other, yet they found it comfortable. Especially Louis, whose insides melted because of the closeness between them—his not so tiny crush on her was painfully obvious.

“What are you doing?” Louis asked, trying to keep his voice calm as she unlocked her phone.

“I forgot to check which surprise songs Taylor sang last night” she answered as she opened twitter. “Oh god”

“What?!” Louis squealed.

“She sang Cornelia Street and You’re on your own kid! And I wasn’t there, Lou!” she dramatically dropped her head on his chest. He couldn’t help but sigh in relief. “What is going on with you?” she laughed.

“Nothing. Why?” he laughed awkwardly.

“I don’t know, you’re extra jumpy and panicky today.”

“I’m always jumpy and panicky around you.” he said, trying to brush it off.

“No, you’re not” Y/N furrowed her eyes, locking her phone. Louis eyed the action and his chest relaxed. The girl noticed that, so she unlocked it again and started scrolling through Twitter. On her periphery, she saw the boy’s body tensing again. So it had to do with social media, she guessed. “Louis, I’m not dumb. Tell me what is going on.”

“Nothing” he repeated. “Let’s rehearse our lines.”

“Lou, I love you but you’re getting on my nerves right now. I hate being lied to, you know that.”

Y/N’s vulnerable eyes were his weakness, so he sighed and took her hand in his. “This weekend, some fans caught Jack walking around the city with a girl… and they… um, saw them kissing and holding hands.”

Y/N felt her heart drop, and her eyes started to sting. No. She wasn’t going to cry. She hadn’t let herself cry for two weeks and she was not going to start now. “Oh.”

“Give me your phone” Louis said softly. She was too lost in her own mind to question it, so she just obeyed. “I deleted Tik Tok and Instagram. And silenced any Jack related stuff on Twitter. You don’t need to see those pictures.”

“Louis… the girl… is it her?” Y/N asked, trying to keep her voice in control.

“Stop” his voice was firm.

“I want to move on, Lou. And for that, I need to know I was right first.” she pleaded. “Is it her?” her friend nodded slowly as he brought her to his chest. Y/N did a little nod too, and tried to stand up. “Let’s rehearse our lines.”

“Y/N…” he grabbed her elbow to push her back.

“Lou, please. I don’t want to cry, I don’t want to think about it.” he noticed she was two seconds away to burst into tears. And as much as he knew he would hate the sight of her weeping, it was necessary.

“I know you don’t, Y/N/N, but you have to if you want to move on. You’re never getting over this if you keep ignoring your need to cry.”

“I’m just afraid that if I do, I won’t be able to stop.” she confessed, tears starting to blur her vision.

“It feels like that now, but I promise you it’ll be good for you. You have been holding it back for weeks, and once you let it all out, you’ll start to heal” he said as he played with her hair.

“Two weeks… it took him two weeks to go off and date her. And it’s not only some girl… it’s her. He told me I was paranoid, and now he proved me right.”

Jack had promised nothing would happen between him and that girl, and now he broke his promise just like he had broken her heart two weeks ago.

After the realisation, it was like something snapped inside of Y/N, and one sob turned into desperate crying. Her fragile body shook under Louis’ arms, and he wished he could stop her pain. But he couldn’t, so he just stayed there with her holding her as she let it all out.

AS MUCH AS SHE HOPED THE CRYING WOULD EASE THE PAIN, IT DIDN’T. It had been months of being in a rollercoaster of feelings, sometimes she was okay, sometimes she was great and sometimes she was so low not even Louis’ hugs could lift her up.

The days where she didn’t have to shoot were the worst, because she spent hours in bed and her brain betrayed her by bringing the memories of Jack back. She missed him so much, it was completely agonizing. Why?, she asked herself when the room was dark and she couldn’t sleep. Why did he get to move on while she had to spend her days like that? She has been trying to pick up her heart while Jack was all lovey-dovey with the girl he swore was just his friend.

Jack continued her life without her, while Y/N woke up everyday with his memory over her. She longed for the picture of Jack’s dazzling smile to be gone from her mind. She prayed to forget the sound of his voice as he whispered the sweetest of things on her ear. She wished she could stop hearing his angelic laugh everywhere. She wanted to stop feeling the ghost of his touch against her skin. To forget that his lips were soft and that every time they were pressed against hers she could feel goosebumps all over her body. Y/N just wanted to stop being haunted by the memories of Jack.

Louis had slowly helped her through the process of moving on. He was there to offer his warmth when the wrenching thoughts triggered the waves of tears, and he was also there to make her break a smile once the sobbing stopped.

After eight months, the flood of her tears successfully carried away the thoughts of Jack, and Y/N knew she was finally clean. Not that she didn’t miss him, because Jack was her first love after all, and a small part of her would always love him.

It took her a few more months to be sure if she was ready to risk it again, but Louis’ sweet disposition, how he saw the best in her even in her worst times, showed her that he was worth it. And so she she watched it began again with him.

JACK AND THE GIRL LASTED FOR TWO MONTHS. He never intended to have something with her, but she was interested and he was lonely and sad, so he said yes. But reality crept in soon—he loved Y/N with all his heart and no matter who he was with, his thoughts would always go back to her.

He had been texting her for months, but she had blocked his number. He knew he could easily drive to her house, but he didn’t want to add salt to the multiple wounds he had inflicted on her, it would be selfish. So when Jack saw that Avatar 4 and Y/N’s drama film were both nominated for the Oscars, he knew it was his chance to make things right. To bring back the only real thing he had ever known.

But he didn’t plan on seeing her with someone else. And he knew they weren’t there together just as co-stars, they were each other’s date. The spark in Y/N’s eyes when she looked at Louis was familiar to Jack—it was the way they used to shine just for him. Jack had been the one to extinguish the spark on her eyes, and Louis had managed to light them up again.

And he wasn’t even mad or jealous. He actually felt happy and sad. Jack didn’t understand how it was possible for two opposite feelings to co-exist in his body at the same time. He realized it was a lost battle, yet he needed to do talk to her. For the sake of their once marvellous relationship.

Y/N got out of the bathroom and into the crowded room, but the thousands of people in it became blurry once she recognized the silhouette of a handsome tall boy leaning against the entrance. “Jack?” his name left her lips in a mix of anguish and surprise.

“Hey” he said softly. You look beautiful, he wanted to add, but restrained himself. “I wanted to talk to you.” Jack saw her grimace and continued before she could stop him. “I know. I know it’s the last thing you want, I just need to get this off my chest. You’re not paranoid or insecure. You never overwhelmed me with your problems. You were right, and I was a shitty boyfriend, friend and person, and you have been so amazing and patient… and I’m so sorry, Y/N. I never deserved your love.”

“You did… up until that night.” she said in all honesty. “I loved you so much, and then you said all of those things. I can’t forget about it, because I never expected those words to come out of your mouth.”

“I know, and I really don’t expect you to forgive me. It’s okay and understandable if you don’t, but I needed you to know that those things I said weren’t true at all.” Jack said, pressing his lips in a thin line. “To be honest, I came here with the mind set of trying to win you back” he confessed, and let out a little laugh, as if the idea was now ridiculous. “But I saw you with him and I know that I’ve lost you for good. Are you happy with him?”

Y/N saw his deep brown eyes starting to get glossy and her insides melted. She didn’t see him with romantic eyes anymore, but it didn’t mean the love was gone. She still cared for him with every bone in her body. “I am. He’s amazing.”

Jack smiled. Genuinely smiled, so widely that it made a few tears drop, and before she knew it, Y/N’s cheeks were wet too. “That’s great, Y/N/N. Really great. I’m happy for you.”

And that was the moment Y/N knew Jack honestly regretted the words he had said before their breakup. “I forgive you.”

The tall boy’s eyes widened “What?”

“I forgive you.” she repeated. “And you deserve to be happy too, okay?”

“Thank you” Jack said breathlessly, wiping away the tears.

“I need to go. But it was nice to see you, thank you for coming to talk to me. For real. I really needed that, I think we both needed that.”

And so they both smiled to each other one last time before parting ways. There was nothing left to say, staying friends had never been an option with them. They loved each other too much for that. When it came to Y/N and Jack, it was everything or nothing at all.

[thefrogsennaneverfound]

I ask this question from a curiosity standpoint, and don’t mean to seem rude or anything, but why don’t you like Daniel Ricciardo? Am I missing something?

He’s far less offensive than a lot of the other drivers. He has a tendency to awkwardly laugh rather than say “that’s a shitty joke. Not okay”, which is frustrating, but not even in the same universe as something like Lance Stroll physically assaulting his trainer.

Like all F1 drivers, he wants to be WDC and talks a big talk, but he’s still nowhere near as obnoxious as a lot of the other drivers, who all think and say the same.

Maybe my understanding isn’t correct? As far as I know, his only really shit time as a driver was with McLaren in 2022, and words like “scapegoating” and “sabotage” get thrown around a lot. In 2021, he gave McLaren its only win in over a decade, and it wasn’t team orders based, and he hauled Renault back up into the podium as well, for their first time in almost a decade. I don’t think he should have left Red Bull, and I don’t think he’s necessarily an Alonso or Verstappen level talent, but he also made those Red Bulls and Renaults that he drove look a lot better than they were.

It's not just about what a driver's like on the track; it's his attitudes off the track too and Ricciardo has really bad form. As for dragging the Renault into the points, and the Red Bull when it was underperforming - that's his job and the cars weren't that bad. If he'd swapped with one of the back markers at the time, they'd likely have performed just the same. Plus, if he made the Red Bull look better than it was, why wasn't he the one winning championships in it? Why did Vettel get all that action when all Ricciardo got was a handful of race wins?

Anyway, here's (just some of) why I firmly believe that Daniel Ricciardo is every bit as obnoxious as the most obnoxious drivers on the grid. If you don't read right to the end, and I wouldn't blame you, please at least take in the part I've highlighted in red; it pretty much sums up the type of character he is and why I - along with many others - really do feel that he's most definitely obnoxious.

“I don’t watch the news and feel better about my day so I choose not to watch it.” Just one direct quote regarding his complete and shameless ignorance about the extreme humans rights abuses prevelent in some of the countries F1 travels to. What it amounts to is that the “drama and negativity” (his own words) of news reports on out-dated and abusive attitudes to women and LGBTQ people is a buzz kill so he’d rather not know about it, thanks all the same.

His attitude to the sexist objectification of the (now thankfully defunct) Grid Girls: "It's kind of like part of the attraction of the sport, fast cars and fast girls,". In his opinion, because it’s a male dominated sport it’s “a cool thing” so “let’s keep them”. If that's not obnoxious, I don't know what is.

On “Your Mom’s House” (a lowest common denominator podcast aimed at pathetic little boys who think they’re men) he laughed along with deeply sexist, misogynistic ‘jokes’ about women. There are plenty of drivers who would, at the very least, have kept their reactions neutral, making it clear they didn’t think it funny, but not Ricciardo; he was more than content to chuckle away at their vile comments about women.

Tricking Yuki Tsunoda into trusting him to come closer on a boat so he could throw him overboard, because it’s funny to force someone to face a very real phobia of sharks by throwing them into a body of water that’s widely known to contain them. I don’t care what Tsunoda’s reaction was to it (it's common for the victim of bullying to make light of their ordeal) or that Ricciardo threw himself into the water too; it’s still an appalling way to treat someone when they’ve been brave enough to be in such close proximity to one of their greatest fears. It’s the behaviour of a bully and Ricciardo is the worst kind of that particular species – a charming bully. The reason he gets away with so much of his crappy behaviour is because so many people are taken in by a cheeky smile, a twinkle in the eyes, and the friendly disclaimer that it’s just a bit of fun; they’re just trying to lighten the mood and make people laugh. It’s always at someone else’s expense though.

Given he was in a highly competitive Red Bull for all those years, he won precious few races, and left because he wasn’t getting the attention he thought was his right. I know athletes have to have an enormous amount of self-belief but to have looked at a racer like Verstappen and sincerely felt that he was his equal? That’s delusional. But is that really how he felt? Or did he – like so many who can’t face real competition when they know someone else is going to come out on top – jump ship because being a big fish in a small pond is preferable to being outperformed and therefore second best? I don’t know which it is but if he really, genuinely, sincerely thought he was on the same level as, first, Verstappen and then Norris, surely he’s just not very bright?

Monza 2021 absolutely was a team orders win for Ricciardo. Have you listened to Norris’s radio? He was faster; he wanted to pass; he asked if he could pass; he was told to maintain position. Either the team were concerned that the two might take each other out (although I am absolutely certain that Norris could have made that move with ease so was it more a case of Ricciardo taking Norris out if he tried to overtake?) or Ricciardo’s ego was so fragile by that point (Norris had been wiping the floor with him) that they decided he needed the win to boost his confidence and get a few more much needed points for McLaren. Either way, Norris was robbed of his maiden victory because he’s a team player who obeyed team orders rather than saying “screw this; I can win and I’m damn well gonna win”. I respect him for playing the team game but I hate the fact that Ricciardo got an undeserved win at his considerable expense (that’s not hyperbole; a driver’s first F1 win really is huge).

You're probably sorry you asked now.

[cosmicjoke]

Man, all these people who claim that Levi made the "wrong" choice when he chose Armin, claiming that the outcome of the story would have changed or been different if he'd just chosen Erwin, essentially blaming Levi for the Rumbling, conveniently never have an answer when you actually ask them what Erwin could have done differently to change the outcome. That's because there isn't anything Erwin could have done to change the outcome, short of somehow, magically, discovering what Eren was really planning when no one else could. How Erwin would have been able to do this, who can say, since Eren didn't tell anyone about his plans other than Floch and Historia. I guess Erwin really was just that much smarter than everyone else, including Armin, even though, you know, Armin discovered that Annie was the Female Titan through simple observation and the same with realizing Reiner was hiding in the walls in Shinganshina. Isayama didn't set up Armin's exceptional observational skills for any reason. Nope. Just an arbitrary detail he put in, since Isayama's so known for including superfluous information in his story (insert heavy sarcasm here).

If Armin wasn't able to discover Eren's true intentions, despite being infinitely closer to him than Erwin and spending far more intimate time with him than Erwin would have been able to, why do people think Erwin would have gleaned Eren's true intentions when Armin or the others couldn't? Even Levi, who'd had Eren pegged from the start and understood what he was better than anyone, who's widely acknowledged at being better at reading who people really are than anyone, wasn't able to see what Eren really had planned. Eren himself didn't even know exactly what he had planned until he saw the future, and even then, he remained in deep denial about it, pretending to himself that he wasn't going to go through with it.

But we're supposed to believe, according to these people, that Erwin would have been able to see what Eren had planned when Armin, Levi and even Eren himself didn't know and was in denail over up until the point they were in Marley. These same people also want to claim that Floch never would have been radicalized if Erwin had lived, but that's bullshit. Floch was already radicalized, from having to charge to his death against the Beast Titan. He came out of that situation wanting to make Erwin suffer for leading them on a death charge, under the belief that Erwin was the "devil" they needed in order to win against their enemy. Floch's radicalization had nothing to do with Levi's choice in who to give the serum to. It had to do with how over a hundred soldiers had to give up their lives in order to keep the hope for humanity's future alive, and how Erwin led them and convinced them to do so.

But let's suppose Levi had chosen Erwin, then. Would it have changed Floch's decision to collaborate with Eren?

The answer to that is no.

Either Erwin would have supported Eren's plans or come up with some other, similarly aggressive plan to deal with the outside world, or he wouldn't. If Erwin had refused to deal with the outside world with a mercenary attitude the way Floch wanted (i.e. in a way lacking humanity, wiping out everyone, essentially), Floch would have turned to Eren, and the same outcome would have resulted. Floch never accepted the limited Rumbling plan. That wasn't enough for him. He wanted the whole world wiped out. We see this in the way he intentionally targets innocent civilians during the raid on Liberio. He wanted Erwin to be chosen because he believed that Erwin was devoid of humanity, because of how he'd led 100 new recruits to their guaranteed deaths. Because of that, he believed Erwin would do whatever it took to win, no matter the cost.

If Erwin had shown him something less than that monstrosity, it wouldn't have satisfied Floch. So Erwin choosing to go with Zeke's proposed plan wouldn't have satisfied Floch, either. It wouldn't have been extreme enough for him. The only thing that would have been, would be Erwin choosing to eliminate all of humanity beyond the walls, i.e. going with Eren's actions. If he'd refused anything less than that, again, Floch would have turned to Eren. Either way, they end up down a path of death and destruction.

If people think Erwin would have succeeded in negotiating with Marley where Hange and the scouts failed, again, wrong, because he never would have even been given the chance, just like Hnage and the others were never given the chance, because, again, Eren went rogue and disappeared. Again, unless Erwin was somehow able to magically discover Eren's true intentions before they left for Marley, when up until that point, Eren himself was still in denial over it, then the outcome would have been the same, whether Erwin was with them or not.

People that claim Levi made the wrong choice and "doomed humanity" as a result, also routinely fail to acknowledge just how done Erwin really was. There's a reason Levi talks about not wanting to see Erwin become a "devil". I've talked about this at length already, so I won't repeat myself here. If you want to read more in depth about my thoughts on how Erwin's dream had begun to corrupt him and threaten his humanity, you can do so here: https://www.tumblr.com/cosmicjoke/737098651561787392/sorry-to-keep-reblogging-this-it-just-keeps?source=share But to go into it briefly, these same people who want to deny the significant role Armin played in Levi's choice, and how that speaks heavily to how Levi was very much considering what was best for humanity at that point, also want to deny that Erwin was in danger of losing his humanity if he'd been forced to go on living and leading the SC. The denial of this blinds them to the fact that, in Levi's view, what humanity needed was hope. It didn't need a leader who was broken by his own guilt and cynicism and self-loathing.

Just before Levi is about to inject Erwin with the serum, Erwin begins mumbling in a delirious state, talking to his father and asking about the outside world. He's still in the grip of his dream. Still, in his dying moments, possessed by it. He has nothing beyond that. That's what that moment shows us. He's just given up his dream by charging the Beast Titan to his own death, knowing death was the only thing that COULD release him from that dream. While he still drew breath, that dream consumed him. The idea that these people posit is that Erwin would have recovered from the loss of his dream by finding a "new dream" to be drunk on moving forward, and that would have allowed him to continue on as an effective leader. But what this take fails to acknowledge is how Erwin's guilt most assuredly would have been exacerbated by the discovery of the truth, not alleviated by it. He would have been met with the crushing disappointment of what that truth was. Yes, his theory that humanity existed beyond the walls would have been proven true, and thus his father's correctness. But beyond that initial vindication for Erwin, he would have been met with the bleak reality of their situation. That all those lives he'd sacrificed for his dream, for the discovery of the truth, would have amounted to nothing more than the hopeless realization that the rest of the world wanted them all dead. Instead of finding freedom or an answer to their hopes, they'd instead found themselves pushed further into a corner without hope of escape.

That wouldn't have lessened Erwin's guilt, it would have worsened it. There's no way Erwin would have felt that disappointing reality was worth all those lives he'd sacrificed. And that's where Levi's fear came in of what Erwin might become. Why he tells Floch Erwin would have to become a devil if he'd continued on as their leader. He was in danger of losing his humanity to his guilt and self-hatred. He might very well have been driven mad by that guilt without the distraction of his dream to shield him from those negative thoughts and emotions. There's a reason the panels show Levi recalling in this moment asking Erwin what he would do once he discovered what was in Eren's basement, and Erwin answering he didn't know. There's a reason Levi recalls Kenny saying to him that we need something to be "drunk on" in order to continue living. People that claim Erwin would have been fine love to ignore all of this. They love to ignore just how ruinous Erwin's pursuit of his dream had been on his psyche. And I'm not talking about whether the self-loathing he felt was earned or deserved. That question is irrelevant. It's irrelevant because whether deserved or not, it's what Erwin felt. He hated himself, and felt overwhelmed by the guilt of what he'd done, and the discovery of the truth and the realization of his dream wouldn't have assuaged those feelings. It would only have made them worse.

And that was never what humanity needed. It didn't need someone who'd been turned bitter and hopeless and filled with despair, the way Erwin was, that bitterness and despair likely only to become worse with the realization of his dream and its ugly, disappointing reality. His guilt would have only increased with the realization that the world all those soldiers under his command died for, that he convinced to die for, was an impossibility. It would have made him feel all the more as if he'd lied to them all, and sent them to their deaths for nothing. Again, to think Erwin would have been able to easily recovery from this, or move on and continue to lead in the wake of this, is absurd and fails to acknowledge the depth of Erwin's inner turmoil and suffering. To continue on in that role, after these revelations, after the confirmation that he'd convinced all those soldiers to give up their lives for a lie, would only have increased his self-hatred. The very fact he would have had to continue to lead is what would have threatened the loss of his humanity, ultimately, because there's no way he could have continued to operate in that role under that much crushing guilt. Retaining his humanity would have meant drowning in despair. Forfeiting his humanity would have meant turning into Floch or Eren or Zeke. In order to keep operating as the leader of the SC, Erwin would either eventually succumb to his guilt and be rendered useless, paralyzed by his self-doubt and fear, unable to bring himself to tell the lies, or what he believed were lies, required to inspire people to action, or he would truly have had to divorce himself from all sentiment and feeling, uncaring that he was lying and sending people to their deaths for nothing. And that, in the end, would have been a disaster, both for Erwin himself, and for humanity.

Levi says he doesn't regret not choosing Erwin, even as the Rumbling unfolds beneath him, and it's because he knows and fully believes that what humanity needed was someone that still believed in it, someone that still believed in it being worth saving, someone that still believed and had hope in something better, something beyond war and death. That was Armin. That's what Eren's own speech he gives to Levi, trying to convince him to choose Armin, is about. How Armin is this person who can see beyond fighting or thirst for revenge. How he's the person who will save humanity because he believes in that ideal future.

Levi says "I entrusted the future to that kid who had the same look in his eyes as all of you,". He literally says it. "I entrusted the future". He's very literally saying he trusted in Armin to carry humanity forward into the future it needed. That he specifically chose Armin for this purpose. That Armin's idealism was as much a consideration to him as Erwin's own suffering. These people love to talk about Levi saying "I chose this place for Erwin to die" while ignoring him saying later to Erwin "I didn't choose you", meaning he did choose Armin. It was as much a choice for him as it was for Erwin. Both of them weighed equally in Levi's decision. I don't understand how these people that claim Levi's choice was all about Erwin just completely ignore this line. It's so utterly disingenuous to do so and I think they know it. I think they know it's disingenuous to frame Levi's choice as if Armin wasn't just as important and significant in it as Erwin.

And I don't want to hear the argument that Levi was saying Armin's purity and the innocence of his dream was "the same" as Erwin's. Again, this is a disingenuous argument from these people, twisting Levi's words and their context to fit their agenda. Because they know deep down Levi wasn't comparing Armin's purity and the purity of his dream to Erwin, he was comparing it to the collective hopes and dreams of the soldiers of the Survey Corps, to all of his fallen comrades who offered up their lives in the belief it would help create a better, freer world. A "stupidly idealistic world", as Levi puts it. Armin's dream was akin to that. He wanted to see the ocean, he wanted to explore a world he believed was filled with wonders and beauty. He believed, even after the discovery of humanity beyond the walls and the reality of their hostility toward them, that there was beauty and wonder to be found and experienced. He never lost faith in that conviction. Armin's dream was one rooted in hope and belief and joy. That's what made it pure, and that's also why he was able to give it up so readily, because in its innocence, it didn't consume or define him.

Erwin's dream wasn't pure and anyone who claims otherwise is either full of it, or they seriously don't understand Erwin at all. Erwin's dream was never pure, because it was a dream rooted, not in hope and belief or joy, but one rooted in guilt and shame and a longing for atonement. He wanted to discover the truth not because he thought it would lead to a better world or to experiencing something beautiful, but because he was desperate to escape from the crushing guilt he felt over his father's death, and the belief that he was responsible for it. That's the literal opposite of purity. That's wretchedness and shame and self-loathing driving Erwin's dream, from the start. That's not an innocent dream able to be let go, that's a weighted shackle round his neck, threatening at all times to pull him under and drown him. And in the end, that's what had begun to happen to Erwin. That's what his dream had begun to do to him.

Armin encapsulated the dream of the Survey Corps, through his innocence, though the purity of his dream, through his belief that there was still a world out there worth discovering, worth exploring, worth experiencing, despite the bleak reality of their situation. Nobody believed in humanity's worth or its future more than Armin, and that's why he was the right choice. Because humanity needed someone who believed in it and its future. Ignoring Armin's role in Levi's choice is to fundamentally misunderstand why Levi made the choice he did in the first place. It wasn't only for Erwin's sake. It was for humanity's sake, too. And that really is supported, also, by the fact that Levi chose the humane option of not dragging Erwin back into the role that had left him with only more pain and guilt. He chose compassion, both in allowing Erwin to rest, and in choosing a boy who still held hope for humanity.

[ranpowriter]

on BSD’s Ranpo — on inspiring others, compassion, and forgiveness

By comparison to my post on Poe, this one doesn’t draw direct comparisons to one specific work, though I’ve attempted to drawn in some appropriate historical context. At core, though, this is focused on BSD Ranpo. Stay tuned to watch an idiot compose their thoughts?

It’s fairly general knowledge that the author Edogawa Ranpo is widely regarded as the father of Japanese mystery. Somewhat lesser known may be the nuance of this, which is that he’s credited with trying to adapt European/Western style mysteries (A. Conan Doyle, E. A. Poe, and others) into a Japanese setting, working around and accommodating the architectural and societal differences that come with.

He founded an organization called the Mystery Writers of Japan, which has its own award in addition to the one that’s named after him; the Edogawa Rampo Prize.

What I believe is significant about this, as it relates to BSD Ranpo, is that this award targets new/beginner/amateur novelists, and is awarded to unpublished mystery novels. Winning this award accompanies a 10 million yen cash prize (~63k USD) and publishing by Kodansha, giving the novelist a jumpstart of sorts into their career.

This notion is reflected more explicitly in this part of the manga, where Ranpo encourages the world, the layman population, to become detectives as well (just as the IRL award gives aspiring novelists an opportunity to be published, + gain recognition and money to help in their careers). Earlier in the manga, he also explicitly presents BSD Mushitaro with a career opportunity (via the business card of a special abilities division spy), encourages Poe to keep writing (IE: maintain his career), and offers to assist Minoura on future cases at a discount price (career assistance).

Then, of course, there’s this:

Convincing one third of the police force (who, if we are to compare being a novelist like author Ranpo to BSD Ranpo’s detective work, could be analogous to aspiring writers) despite the page explicitly saying police will not trust the agency is a very powerful something.

I personally like to believe that a large part of this can be attributed to the compassion BSD Ranpo displays in the manga. Mind you, in this context, I am defining compassion, in opposition to empathy or sympathy, as attempting to understand and relieve another person’s suffering, which is something we see him do multiple times in the manga. I have placed this (rough) analysis below the cut due to the subjectivity of this interpretation.

Having said that, I should preface that Ranpo having compassion ≠ him being a good or moral person. Just remember he was 100% willing to let Atsushi get kidnapped (likely having foreseen that not doing so would induce the Guild to attempt to destroy Yokohama and the agency), and then even more willing to let a war between the agency and the mafia ravage Yokohama (which would generate innumerable casualties) if it meant saving Fukuzawa.

Anyhow,

Inspiring Other Characters to Self Fulfillment

A note I want to touch on is that the four characters whom initially oppose only to side with Ranpo (Fukuzawa, Minoura, Poe, Mushitaro) are all self-actualized after he catalyzes them to do so. Fukuzawa finds his “life’s path” in founding the agency. Minoura gets his moment in ch81 where he fights for what he believes in and protects Ranpo. Poe is inspired to write again (and this time, for a positive reason—because Ranpo wants to read his works—not out of hate). Mushitaro, who was previously made to be the villain in two deals he made (murdering Yokomizo, evidence erasing evidence for the Rats), makes a decision for himself to turn against the Rats and do something he himself wants to do —not what his near-death friend wants him to do, but something he chose for himself and at the expense of himself. It also allows him to meet Poe later, and begin to write.

This is not to argue that Ranpo is responsible for these people’s finding of their desired goals/life paths, but rather that he catalyzed them to think about it and pursue the goal themselves. It was ultimately their strength and motivation that got these characters to pursue what they do—pursue something that satisfies themselves—, Ranpo simply had a helping hand, through his compassion, in inducing them to decide to make that change. This is similar to a person being inspired to self-improvement —something like an inspirational person/post or friend may trigger them to make that change, but ultimately it is the person themselves that puts in the effort for the change.

Compassion: Understanding of A to relieve the suffering of B, vs Understanding of A to relieve the suffering of A

I consider this a demonstration of compassion, because though it isn’t intended to relieve Sugimoto’s suffering, it does relieve Minoura’s. Notably, prior to this scene, Minoura is agitated over Sugimoto not confessing the location of the evidence which Minoura’s subordinate died for, and in demonstrating understanding of Sugimoto like this, he got Sugimoto to confess what Minoura wanted.

This is notably the same method through which he gets Mushitaro confess. Granted, with Mushitaro, it’s explicitly blackmail, but the principle of understanding the motive and tragedy involved with the crime —the fact that the victim cared for the murderer, and vice versa— and using that to derive the result Ranpo wants, is the same. The suffering relieved here is Kunikida’s.

Demonstrations of compassion which relieve the suffering of the one being understood are most obvious with Poe (who he gives acknowledgement and praise to) and Mushitaro (who he fulfills his promise to of both granting him work, as well as burning the manuscript instead of keeping it as blackmail). In both cases, he openly gives two people who tried to hurt him encouragement for them to build their own futures. He encouraged Poe to write and Mushitaro to find work on the right side of the law, though it would ultimately be up to both to make the most of these opportunities.

Kunikida fits this category as well, as Ranpo understood how awful he felt about letting that child die in front of his eyes, and acted to relieve that suffering by clearing his name. It remained up to Kunikida, of course, to move on from the incident on his own.

Less obviously, there’s also Kyouka and his immediate acceptance of her into the agency.

This moment, I suspect, is due to Ranpo seeing Kyouka as someone like himself. Like him, she lost her parents and very nearly lost faith in the world, only to be shown the light again (by Fukuzawa and Atsushi respectively). This may be the reason for the sibling comparison between them, as well as the fact that Fukuzawa accepts Kyouka (and even lies that she’s his granddaughter) after looking at her pleading face (which I like to think reminded him of Ranpo, given their similar ages, hair colors, liking of snacks, etc.) Like with Ranpo as well, once she lost her parents, Kyouka was taken into a world of “monsters” —people which were terrifying and hard to understand (the Port Mafia).

This sympathy and acceptance which Ranpo displays towards Kyouka is notably something Atsushi was excluded from, which is something I believe stems from what I highlighted above, as well as the fact that Atsushi (being who he is, and having the ability he does) presented much more significant danger to the agency than Kyouka does.

And now that I’ve been over all of this, I also think it’s interesting to highlight that Ranpo has been a very forgiving person throughout the manga. He forgives Minoura for insulting him. He forgives Poe for trying to kill him and Yosano. He forgives Mushitaro for his hand in Kunikida’s torment. This, I believe stems in large from what Fukuzawa told him about everyone else being stupid. His explanation to Ranpo was something roughly along the lines of (not a direct quote): compared to your intelligence people are like babies. They don’t hate you, they’re just ignorant. How can a baby who can barely hold its head up have malice towards you?

Bearing this mentality in mind, it makes sense that Ranpo does not rebuke the above listed people, who he regards as ignorant compared to himself. Minoura just didn’t know how great of a detective Ranpo was, Poe was just upset, Mushitaro was just acting on his loyalty to his friend, etc. They were not malicious.

Noting Poe—yes he was after revenge (and I discussed this in a previous post), but he seemed to delight more in the action of defeating Ranpo than in watching Ranpo be miserable. The most obvious evidence to this being that when Yosano died, he simply gloated that he’d defeated one of the detectives and that Ranpo was next, not the more sadistic alternative of being happy Ranpo lost a good friend.

In summary: Ranpo is capable of an astonishing amount of forgiveness and compassion, so long as it is to people who are ignorant compared to him, do not act in malice, and are not threats to the agency. When he does decide to extend compassion and/or forgiveness, his doing so often inspires them to pursue their own goals/happiness in life.

I hope, if you have read this far, there was some value to be derived from this analysis. In truth, I wrote this to organize my personal thoughts in preparation for writing as well as other analysis.

Previously I declared that I wanted to touch on BSD Ranpo’s and Poe’s social isolation, however that turned out to be more of a complicated topic than I expected. Same thing with connecting The Case of the Murder on D. Hill (the novel which Ranpo’s debut chapter is named after) to Ranpo.

[muzicgenerator]

Hey, can I request an angst story with Bill and reader (the reader is female) abt crazy fans please? Like them (Bill and the reader) admitting somewhere (idk maybe in an interview for a magazine) that they almost broke up because of that (maybe reader's fanbase is known for being "too much" sometimes like following the reader everywhere, being so in love with her etc)

(Also could the story take place in the 2000s please?)

Goodbye 👋

i like this one im actually excited abt writing this one shot

btw im so sorry for late reply AHSJHFKDHDK please expect ill take like AT LEAST a week to answer yalls request bc im busy as hell w school 😭😭 love u guys pls understand

and again this aint entirely proof read

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

Too Much?

✮

Pairing: Bill Kaulitz x Fem Reader

Genre: Angst, Mostly fluff

Warnings: Stalking, mention of nonconsensual touching, very embarrassing storytime from bill

Request Status: closed :(

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮ I'm Not Okay (I Promise) : My Chemical Romance

(Time set back in late November of 2007)

Being a famous actress since as a child was unbelievably tough.

You had worked so hard and expertly; you didn't even have time to spend your childhood properly.

Just at the age of 19 and you've finished numerous movies and series. A true self-made millionaire, really.

You and your ravenette boyfriend are currently doing an interview for a night show.

"So ____, wow! After a long pause from doing films you're finally gonna have one showing soon! How is it like? Being back and all; being the talk of the country."

In the past one and a half year you hadn't done any projects since you've decided to take a break for yourself. And now you're once again busy taping with film staff and directors for your new and upcoming Teenage Romance movie.

Rest assured it's not your typical boy-meets-girl or vice versa and they do sappy sweet stuff and get together kind of film; it has its own uniqueness that will surely be called as "One of 2000s greatest Teen Romance movies of all time."

"Oh, I feel great Hanna. I had a deserving break and I'm back to doing one of the things I love most. I'm even happier because I got my lover and his band to sing the theme song for the movie." You truthfully answered and chuckled by the end of your statement.

"How about you Bill? How are things with your band?" Hanna included Bill to the conversation.

At that, he smiled politely. "Everything's great with us y'know, we're still together and all. Which I'm grateful for."

After a few more minutes for pep talk; the blonde interviewer finally decided to get onto the exciting part of the show.

"And now, for the moment we've all been waiting for! Dunk Tank!" Hanna smiled widely at the selected crowd.

"Where in this game; you will pick someone from the crowd who will accompany you with this game.

Your selected teammate will ask any question they want; to which you will answer, and if you don't want to then they'll get a chance to throw a ball on the target. Where if they hit it, you'll fall down the tank."

Hanna excitedly announced despite having done this for the nth time.

"____ and Bill, play Rock, Paper, Scissors to see who goes first."

You knew you'd beat Bill since every single time you played it - he'd miserably lose.

"Oh, I'm confident in winning this one!" you proudly say.

"Just because you've beat me all the other times we played this, doesn't mean I'll lose now!" Bill accepted your challenge and laughed.

He was right. He won for the very first time.

"Oh my God! Did I seriously win?!" your black clothed boyfriend exclaimed.

"I only let you win this time because I felt sorry." you playfully rolled your eyes with a smirk.

"Whatever, I'm gonna choose now." he giggled and stepped closer to the crowd.

His fan girls were screaming at the top of their lings, begging to be chosen by him.

No, you weren't jealous. Not one bit. Sometimes Bill would even complain about you not being possessive of him from time to time and would think you're not as in love as he thought.

It's cute, really. Then you'll show him how much you love him through actions rather than words.

Bill chose a girl who seemingly looked two or three years younger.

The joyous girl screamed in surprise; "Oh my god! What?! Me??! SERIOUSLY??"

It made Bill giggle, "Yes, you! Now get down here!"

A body guard helped the girl down; and when she was no longer at the stairs she rushed Bill to hug him but abruptly stopped. "Hi oh my god you're more beautiful up close! Can I hug you?!" she says excitingly.

It made your heart flutter just how kinder your boyfriend's fans are compared to yours.

To say your fan base is crazy is an understatement. Many would harass you through nasty words or touching you with no consent; it didn't matter if they did that out of how much they "love" you, it was still disgusting.

"Um, yeah. Sure!" he hesitantly looked at you; his eyes asking for permission. To which you subtly nodded.

Again, your heart melted by how he's making sure you're okay with it. Honestly, you very much understood that being famous would mean people wanting to hug you or any form of physical contact. Plus, it's not like you can say no to Bill from hugging a fan; you'd be a scandal. And you knew Bill wouldn't have any other choice as well.

He wrapped an arm over her shoulders while she fully embraced him. Okay, you're a teensy bit jealous especially by the way she's holding him like he's her man.

But that was soon washed away when she turns to you.

"Hi! What's your name sweetie?" Hanna asked and put a mic on her mouth.

"My name is Pauline!"

Before Hanna could say anything further, Pauline beat her to it.

"____!! I'm such a big fan of you too! I've been watching your movies since forever." saying she's over the moon is definitely an understatement! This will definitely be a core memory.

Almost immediately you wrapped your arms around her back and squeezed her. This girl is definitely one of the most respectable and sweetest fan you've ever met.

Was it really low? Yes.

The audience cheered by how sweet you and Bill had been to the girl and by how jealous they were.

As Bill and Hanna chattered about God knows what; the girl leaned closer to you in order to ask a favour which no one can hear.

"Can I ask you to shout out my brother? He has a huge crush on you!"

"Sorry darling but we're in the middle of a show right now. How about later I ask the staff to send you to the backstage? Then I'll give him my magazine with an autograph, and if you have a camera with you - you can video me saying hi to him!" you came up with a resolution.

Was it over the top? You didn't know and you didn't care. You're just fleeting with joy by how this girl isn't like any other of your fans.

"Seriously? You'd do that for me and my brother?" she gasped.

"Well, yeah. I mean it's not always that I have such nice interactions with people who are a fan."

"Okay lovebirds what are you two talking about there?" Hanna teased with a smirk and Bill playfully pouted.

"Nothing, nothing" you laughed and held Bill's arm as the crowd laughed and cheered.

"If you say sooo." she replied. "Alright, your turn to pick!"

You carefully looked around the crowd and walked five steps of the stairs to get a better view of the people on the back. A fifteen year old boy was holding a banner stating "Bill's No.1 Boy", it was cute, really. So you planned to steal your boyfriend's fan! (this a joke dont hate reader pls)

"The ginger at the back with the banner please." you said to the mic.

The boy squeeled in delight and threw his banner somewhere before running down to you. Your arms opened for an embrace which he immediately jumped into.

"What's your name?" you put the mic to his mouth as you both carefully went down the stairs and back to the stage.

"Sam, I'm Sam! My name is Sam!" his rather high pitched voice said.

"Okay, Sam. I know you're Bill's fan so I'm gonna have to steal you, that okay?"

"Hey, no fair!" Bill patted the boy's head and shot a smile at him.

This moment for him is definitely a core memory and will brag about it to every living human he sees.

"Now, who wants to go first in the tank?" Hanna asked.

"I'll do it" Bill says excitingly.

They agreed and the staff helped him get up. Once he were seated and adjusted in the circular surface; he challenge you.

"Ask a good one!"

"Ohohoo, we definitely will!" you smirked.

You turn to Sam and ask him without the mics near your faces; "What're you gonna ask your idol?"

"Oh uhmm, I don't really know." he says bashfully.

"Maybe his most embarrassing moment?"

"That'll work, definitely." you smile supportively and fist bumped him.

"Bill, you read?!" Hanna exclaimed.

"Born ready!!"

"Alright Sam, ask away!"

"What's the most embarrassing thing that's happened to you?" Sam asked with twinkles in his eyes.

"Oh, definitely when me and ____ weren't dating yet; she threw a sleepover party and she invited me and my mates, and there were three bathrooms, right? The three were being used and in one of those bathrooms it was Tom using it, and I had to rush him because I really needed to take a shit, like I couldn't hold it any farther!

So he went out really pissed and I pushed him off the door and quickly shut it and went right into business."

Bill paused and tried to compose himself as the crowd started to get louder.

"And when I washed and pushed the flush button - It wouldn't flush! So I got really scared because I just shit in my crush's toilet and I can't let anyone know that I'm the one who did it. So i looked around and saw a pack of pads so I took one of them; and forced myself to dip my hand down to grab it and I almost puked!

I look around and see there's no trash bin. So I panic again, and eventually decided I'll just rush down to throw it in the garbage in her garage. I quickly make a run for it and almost bumped into ___"

He now covered his hands in shame and embarrassment. "And she saw the pad in my hand! So she asked me like, 'Is that a pad?' and I'm like yes and so she asks whose it is...... and I said it's mine....."

You know of this story long ago; and it just gets better and better whenever you think or hear of it.

The audience and interviewer roared with laughter; as well as the staff behind and securities who tried to contain their smiles.

"I wish I never asked!" Sam wiped his tears from laughing too hard.

"Get down here Bill! That was too much!" Hanna's cheeks started to hurt, "Sorry to the viewers who are eating."

Bill went down immediately and squeezed the living life out of you. He does this whenever he's feeling embarrassed or nervous, and calls it his "Physical Support" from you.

"You should've let yourself get thrown in the water!" you giggled and hugged him back before he pulled away with a red face.

"Next goes ____!"

Once you were seated and made yourself comfortable on the seat; you tell them you're ready.

It was Pauline's turn to question whatever she wishes. "____, what do you think of your fans?"

She asks sincerely; she must've noticed something by the way you're like to your fan base and to Bill's. A part of you wished she hadn't asked but you've been dying to let the creepers out there know that whatever they'd been doing to you for a long long time - greatly affects you, especially as a young stat growing up in this sort of industry.

You rarely held any meet and greet, rarely had photos with fans where you look actually comfortable and where they weren't touching your waist or hips or near your ass - and ones where you do look comfortable it was mostly with girls or kids, which was not as often as when you do with the rest; who are pedophiles and creepy boys.

Of course you've always been nice when interacting with them; you didn't want to be rude and only wanted to be kind.

Definitely, there were times when you couldn't take it and couldn't do anything about it - other than cry and complain in your lover's arms.

You're forever thankful to have someone like him; he'd always listen to whatever you say and support everything you do.

Not realising; you zoned out quite a bit and snapped out of it when Bill called out your name with worry that he's trying to mask from everyone.

"Oh-, well, obviously I love them so much, if it weren't for them I wouldn't have succeed this much - of course the people who helped me get up in this industry as well.

I truly do appreciate their love and support, seriously. But quite the number of them are uh, how do I say this." you nervously chuckled as everyone listened intently to the tea you're telling.

"Crossing my boundaries? Yes, uh- that." you say not quite satisfied with the word you chose. It was evident that it's worse than just that but the safest.

"We all know people would cross it by taking unsolicited pictures of you, that's given because you're a celebrity, but are there some other ways they would? If you don't mind me asking of course." Hanna carefully asked.

You smiled softly, "Well a few have stalked me to my house - which I dunno how the hell they did so and took pictures of me and they'd send it to me and tell me how they thought of me. Some leave love letters, flowers, food in front of my gate, sent death threats to my exes when I was dating them and even now to my Bill." you left the worse parts out since you didn't want half of the world to be talking about your most private part of life. What you're even telling them now is a whole lot.

"Wow.. we all knew your fan base could get a bit crazy judging from all the videos we see and the news, but not by this much!" Hanna says empathetically.

"It happens, I guess." you try to laugh it off. However, Bill looked at your hues with his that sent the message of "Are you okay?"

In which yours replied with "I'm not okay."

✮✮✮

The game went on a for it was Pauline's turn to the dunk tank, then Sam's.

You continued your cheery self through the whole taping and told yourself you'll regret what you said later in your dressing room. Bill kept his distance close to you and would caress your hand or shoulder as a sign of support - as well as slipping a "How're you holding up?" every now and then.

If there were billions of ways to show gratitude to this man; you'd do every single one of it to him.

After the agonizing show was over; you and Bill kissed Hanna's cheeks as a goodbye and thank you. To which she said back to you both as well and wished to see you soon.

As you made your way to the dressing room in silence with your fingers intertwined with Bill's; you abruptly stop in your tracks.

"I almost forgot I have to sign a magazine for Pauline!"

Your lover looked confused for a second "What? Why?"

"I kinda promised Pauline I'll just sign a magazine for her brother because she asked me to shout him out while taping." you let a small huff and loosened your grip on your boyfriend's slender hand. "How about I'll see you later in the van? You can wait for me there instead if I haven't been back by five minutes."

Bill smiled, "Of course sweetheart, I'll see you later. Love you." he pecked your lips and lovingly looked into your eyes for a moment before heading to his dressing room.

Quickly; you asked a staff to bring Pauline to your dressing room to give her an autograph - to which they agreed to. Thankfully.

While they did that, you strided to your room and grabbed your magazine and marker - which immediately after doing so, a knock was heard on your door.

You hand held the paper as the other gripped the violet ink marker. When you did, you were greeted by a Pauline smiling widely with a camera on her right hand.

"Hi!" she says excitingly.

You greet back and quickly hugged her, "I see you have a camera with you."

"Oh, yes, uhm.. I was wondering if i can take a video of you signing an autograph? So my brother would believe me that it really is from you." she nervously giggled. "I might or might now have pranked him once by giving him a fake autograph."

"Yeah, sure. What's your brother's name?" you say softly.

"It's Percy." she answers as she readies her camera.

"Alright, is it rolling?" you ask with a smile on your face. Pauline says yes with a grateful smile; grateful for being how considerate and kind you are.

"Hi Paul! So I heard from your sister that you're a fan? Too bad you didn't come with her." you looked behind the camera to Pauline.

"And I heard she gave you a fake autograph of mine? Well now, you're getting a real one, and this is the proof." you say still giggling as you signed the magazine.

"There, and keep the pen. I gotta go now, bye and love you!" you say as you waved goodbye and gave your iconic kiss blow alongside a wink.

Once Pauline returned the camera back to her bag; she immediately thanked you.

"I'm serious - thank you thank you sooo much! And uh.. I'm really sorry if what I asked earlier was too personal. I really am. I was just curious and didn't thoroughly before it slipped my mouth." she noticed the change of the atmosphere long ago. Even if she's just fifteen, she knew how to read the room well.

"Aw, sweetie.. it's nothing." you pat her shoulder, "It's fine I tell ya, also I better get going - you should too, it'll get dark in just two hours. Bye bye and stay safe!" you wave goodbye as she still exclaimed thank you's as she walked backwards towards the exit.

(that footage is definitely gonna go viral after many years)

In a light speed; you gathered your essential belongings and had your personal assistant help you carry your other belongings to the van; to which Bill noticed through the windows that you're carrying back pack and a purse and immediately helped you despite having it under perfect control.

He opened the door for you and let you in first before him and closed the door. Your personal assistant sat in the passenger seat next to the driver, while you and your beloved were at the very back despite the space up front.

You rested your head on his shoulder and he put his above yours while he held your hand with both of his; tracing every outline, massaging it, and kissing it once in a while.

"R'you okay now?" Bill mumbled and kissed your head.

"Yes, hon. I'm great actually.. thanks so much for being there, I love you so much." you turn your head to face his and pecked his lips.

"I love you more than you'll ever know, I'm glad you're okay." he smiled genuinely and kissed you deep and passionate.

You returned to your head's original position and fell to sleep; not caring if tomorrow, you'll be the town's talk.