#originally this was going to be a crowd shot instead of the party

[remxedmoon]

here's a philosophical conundrum for you, siffrin.

if you don't have a home to go back to, what kind of person does that make you?

if you don't have memories of your own childhood, can you still consider yourself human?

if you have forgotten something as important as your country, your childhood, your family, your own name, then are you even a person?

if something is forgotten by everyone, then has that thing ever existed?

(effect works best when zoomed in!)

teehee :3

sorry odile’s part of the mdp fight has been pinging around in my brain for like. months now. i’ve had the idea for this drawing for a while. this is also partially based on isa’s act 4 friendquest (without doing bad touch) where siffrin mentions that they didn’t really have an identity before they met the party!! i wanted to play around with transparency :3333

also, for once, i’m actually putting the colored version down here! idk! i felt like the greyscale version kinda conveys the Mood a little better?? i like both tho!!

[letorip]

kiss with a fist [ii]

"Blood sticks, sweat drips, break the lock if it don't fit, a kick in the teeth is good for some, a kiss with a fist is better than none"

===+++===

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: you signed up to help tara with her stupid plan. not whatever the hell one would call this.

warnings: implied sex, use of alcohol, puking, arguing loudly and wrongly, curse words(?)

word count: 5.2k

A/N: sorry to make you wait so long, but here's the second part. there will probably be a third, so fear not, the story doesn't end here. i originally thought i would be able to just end it off right here, but it’s going kind of really well and i think a third or maybe even a fourth part is more reasonable

===+++===

===+++===

For almost the entire walk to the frat house, Tara didn't actually say much. It surprised you too, the way she just glanced around the city that passed as you walked and fiddled with her nails. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, but you were so used to Tara having something to say that it made you speak instead.

"Wow, for once, you're speechless," you commented as you passed under a streetlight. Tara shot you a glare, shoving her hands into her jean pockets.

"Would it kill you to shut the hell up?"

“There we go, back to normal. Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not being weird,” she scoffed. “Mind your own business.”

"I'm just saying."

"Well don't say. Don't say."

===+++===

The party fucking sucked. It was quintessential college, with frat boys who attempted to yell over the loud music that rattled your eardrums. Coolers upon coolers of shitty, cheap beer sat against the far wall, and a crowd had gathered around them to pick off all the free alcohol they could. Maybe a year ago this would’ve been fun. Now you found yourself disenchanted with the ordeal.

Tara was off god knows where, doing god knows what, which you figured was the point of the arrangement anyway. You weren’t too concerned with tracking her down, especially if situation also presented itself as a pleasant bonus— not having to put up with her.

Chad had wandered out of the room when he saw you and Tara arrive together hand in hand, going deeper into the party without a word. He was usually the one you hung around with at these kinds of things, but he had been a sad little dog with his tail between his legs since you and Tara announced you were meant to be a few days before the party. It seemed some of your friends were still adjusting.

The immediate reaction after Tara said “soooo, we’re together,” was to laugh, like you two were doing a bit. It got less funny when they saw you both blankly staring back at them and then Tara grabbed your hand and held it up with a forced smile.

The whole group was going through a somewhat awkward seven stages of grief thing. Chad was avoiding you completely, Quinn was a bit annoyed you were off the market now after an egregious few months of hitting on you, and Ethan was the only one to be a bit normal, even though it was clear he too had a crush on Tara and was disappointed with the matter.

When Mindy had gotten over her disbelief, she dove right into an endless game of questions, only occasionally staved off by Anika. "So who confessed first?" had been one of the first ones, accompanied by a glint in her eye. Tara jumped in before you could even open your mouth, eager to answer.

"(Y/n) showed up on my porch, all sweaty and disgusting looking, just smelling so unbelievably bad it was overpowering-”

“I had been working out,” you rolled your eyes. “That’s why I was sweaty."

“Mhm, whatever. Anyways, apparently they were just being such an asshole because they were in love with me," Tara said, with a wide, shit-eating grin. "Right?"

You had to hide your glare behind your solo cup. "Mhm. I was just overflowing with it. I have so many things to say about you."

“All nice things,” Tara corrected.

“Yeah. That’s what I said.”

“Was it?”

“Uh huh.”

Mindy’s questions followed you everywhere she did. Who kissed who first? Who’s more cuddly? Have you guys slept together yet? They volleyed back and forth and you and Tara fought for the first word each time to pin it to the other with gleeful sadism. Of course, it was then flipped around once the next question came and you would huff in annoyance at the other for being an asshole.

It wasn’t as bad of an arrangement as you had dreaded. You only had to be couple-y when other people were watching you two interact, or when Sam would glare in suspicion. Hold hands a few times, smile, share a glance. Other than that, things stayed mostly the same. The group probably appreciated you both not acting head over heels for the other and you liked it because it meant you didn't have to pretend to like her.

Tara had a brazen way about her that made you roll your eyes. She never took no for an answer, had a teasing remark for anything, and always felt the need to be doing something. Other people seemed to find themselves charmed by it. Others, but not you. Never you.

The walk there had been about all she could take of your personality, and the moment after you two were seen together, she ditched you at the door and wandered off to the dance floor. After that you had lost track of her, and ended up splitting your time between the kitchen, the bathroom, and the front room, away from the crowd. Mindy found you there, tugging Anika along with her.

"Cut the bullshit," She said with an eye roll, sitting right down on the couch in front of you. Anika plopped down next to her. "There's no way in hell you got together with Tara."

You grinned, sipping your beer and partially using it to block your expression. "No, we're together. I really like her."

Mindy scoffed. "You're a terrible liar." Your cheeks warmed and you tilted your head to the side.

"We have to separate you two like warring chihuahuas every time we hang out together," Anika said. She leaned forward and narrowed her eyes in a study of your face. "You're not confessing your undying love."

"I did."

"You didn't!" Mindy said, and she threw up her arms.

"I did."

"You didn't," Anika snorted.

"I...," you looked at them both, "...are you guys going to snitch?"

"Snitch to who?" asked Mindy. Now they were both leaned in, like eager children around a campfire. You swallowed.

"Sam." Mindy blinked. Then she sat back.

"What the hell did Tara get you involved in?" she asked. As much as Sam was part of your group, it was known not to fuck with her, and that's exactly what Tara was making you do.

You frowned. If anyone was going to ruin the plan, it probably wouldn't be Mindy or Anika. "You can't tell Chad, but we're not actually together."

Anika raised her eyebrows and shot Mindy a glance. "That didn't take a lot of brain power to figure out." You shrugged.

"Well, we fooled Sam. Tara needs a fake partner so she can go to parties and see people and stuff. And, well, you know how Sam is about that stuff."

Mindy crossed her arms. "And you said sure?"

You shrugged. "I mean, I didn't really see why not. Plus, she was being super annoying about it. Showed up at my house. She was begging, almost."

"So, you what, took pity?" Anika asked, giving you a look. You rolled your eyes.

"Trust me, it's not because it's fun. She's way too annoying and she'd probably say the same thing about me."

Mindy frowned, looking out the doorway and into the booming party. "Chad wouldn't like it."

You sent her a worried look. "Please please please, don't tell Chad. I know he's upset by the whole thing, but Sam would literally kill me if she knew I was helping Tara run around town."

"I don't know...," she said. "I know Tara wants freedom, but this is kind of bullshit, (Y/n)."

"It won't be for long. She just wants to meet someone. When she does, it's over. Life goes back to normal."

"Do you guys have a target in mind, or something?" Anika asked, a bit amused.

"Not even a little a bit. It’s like, her second party ever,” you shrugged. “I don’t know if she’s really dead set on a person yet.”

“Well… she better figure it out soon.”

“Mhm.” You looked out the same glass door and into the booming party outside. Through the jumping crowd, you could see in the distance Tara, who was dancing with her eyes shut and a smile spread wide across her cheeks. She looked happy like that.

You took a swig of your beer.

===+++===

The boom of a fist on your door shook the thin walls of your apartment, and you jolted awake to hear three more hit the wood.

“OPEN UP (Y/N), NOW!”

Immediately, a headache washed over you and you groaned. You tried to smush your head into the pillow to make it go away but there were the banging fists again, and you sat up, letting your legs dangle off the edge.

“OPEN THE FUCK UP,” came the voice again, and you blinked. Oh shit. You knew that voice. You clambered to your feet and stumbled out your bedroom and down the hall in a dusty pair of shorts and shirt. “I’M NOT KIDDING! OPEN THE—”

You pulled the door open like a deer in headlights, seeing Sam seethe on the other side with her fist raised. Nostrils flared, forehead creased, eyes narrowed. She looked about ready to rip your head off.

“You,” she said, spitting the word. You flinched. “Where the fuck is Tara?!”

Shit shit shit shit shit. Had she not gone home the night before?? Things felt a little bit fuzzy still. You remembered grabbing another beer from Ethan and flopping down in an armchair, then another and another, and then maybe wandering home while the sun started to rise. Had you seriously lost track of the attempted murder victim on her first night out???

You blinked, already aware that your cheeks were a dusty pink. "I, uh... she, um..."

Her hands went to her hips, glaring at you expectantly. "Well?! Where the hell is my sister?!" When you were still staring like an idiot, she threw up her arms. "I fucking knew I shouldn't have trusted you with her! This is what I get"

You stared, feeling a lie (though probably a clunky one) come to your brain. "I think her phone must've died, but she just left."

Sam's eyebrows rose, but you weren't sure if it was in disbelief or even more rage. "What do you mean?"

"We, um," your eyes went to the floor, feeling her glare laser itself into you as you spoke. "We got super drunk last night at the party, and I brought her back here and we both fell asleep," you looked back up to see her giving your pyjamas a once over, nose wrinkled. You flushed. "No! No— we didn't do that. We just fell asleep."

Sam looked at you for a moment, then crossed her arms. "I waited all night for her, you know," she said.

You nodded. "I know. I'm so sorry, it won't happen again."

"It won't." Sam repeated. "When I don't hear from her for a whole night, you know what I assume happened, right? You know how that feels?"

You swallowed. "I do."

She sighed. "I'm really trying here. I know she doesn't want me worrying about her, and I know she wants freedom. So I'm trying, (Y/n). Don't make me regret it."

"I won't, Sam." It felt like a giant wedge in your throat, and you tried to smile at her but she continued to frown, and she turned around and walked off. The moment she was gone, you spun around and slammed the door. You dashed through your apartment, grabbing your phone off your nightstand and quickly pulling up her contact.

Little Shit (do not pick up). You pressed the button and put it up to your ear, wandering over to the nearby curtain and lifting it to look out onto the city. "Come on, come on," you pleaded aloud. "Fucking pick up, asshole."

After the third ring and a good prayer to god even though you weren't especially religious, it stopped ringing and you could hear her grumbling.

"Tara??" you rushed. "Tara, where are you?"

"Mmm," she groaned, "the hell do you want so early?"

You scoffed. "Tara it's almost noon." There was a pause on the other end of the line.

"What?"

"Uh huh," you grunted. "Your sister just almost ripped my door off it's fucking hinges because she doesn't know where you are. And you know what, neither do I!" There was some shuffling from her end, and then what sounded like running footsteps.

"I went home with this girl last night, I just woke up," she rushed. "Sam is going to kill me!"

"She almost killed me!" You almost yelled into the phone. Now that the worry had subsided you were left with anger. "She almost killed me because you wandered off and didn't go home."

"It's not like I meant to fall asleep," she argued back, and you could hear some talking in the background in faint voices. "I must've slept through my alarm— wait, what did you tell Sam?"

"That your phone died, and you were on your way home."

"WHAT?! (Y/n), this girl's apartment is at least fifteen to twenty minutes away," Tara said into the phone.

"Well it's not like I knew that, now is it?" you shot back, scratching your arm, "considering I didn't know if you were even alive until you picked up."

"God, not you too. I'm fine, drama queen."

"Drama queen?"

"Yeah, drama queen," Tara repeated, and more noises flooded in. It sounded as if she was in the city now, walking, "you sound just like Sam. I picked you because I thought you knew I didn't need a babysitter."

"That's not being babysat, Tara. That's making sure you're not dead," you rolled your eyes.

"Well, I'm not."

"Good."

"Great."

"Fine!" you shot back.

"Awesome."

You sighed into the speaker. "Pick up some flowers or something on your way back. Claim that's why you're late."

"Good idea, actually," Tara hummed.

"I know." And you hung up.

===+++===

You found yourself at an identical party the very next Friday night too, and the Friday after that, and after that too. The walls were just as stained. It smelled just as full of mold. This one didn't have a front room for you to barricade in, so you sat at the bar top instead, in the kitchen with your chin rested on the cool granite.

It had taken a whole night to get rid of the hangover from a few weeks before, and in doing so you had remembered why it was exactly that you didn't find these things too fun, anyways. You hadn't gotten anywhere near as drunk since. Mindy and Anika had decided on date night instead, and Chad and Ethan were off to watch a movie that originally you would've been invited to, had it not been for Tara.

It was painful, that Chad was ducking you. The irony wasn't lost, that the more time you spent with your fake girlfriend at parties and outings like a couple, the closer you got to actually repairing your relationship with him. You still would've rather gone to the movie, though.

You could actually see Tara, from where you sat. Through the bar window in the kitchen, she was on the dance floor, moving along with the rhythm of hard EDM as best she could. It was a giant mob of people, all clumped up and hopping around in excitement, and you didn't especially want to be out there.

As you watched, a guy came up behind Tara, tapping her on the shoulder and smiling down at her. You thought nothing of it, until you got a longer look at the guy's face. In the revolving, multicoloured lights that hung over the crowd, you recognised him in an instant, standing straight up and weaving your way through the party.

"You having fun, Carpenter?" He asked, with a douche-y smirk on his face as he said it. You rolled your eyes, coming up behind Tara and standing right behind her.

"I—" but you interrupted her.

"She is, Frankie," you shot, staring at him and crossing your arms. Tara whipped around to you with a glare.

"(Y/n), go away," she whispered loudly. But you stood your ground.

"Tara, literally anyone but him. I mean, anyone—"

"That's not your decision."

"Sam tased him in the balls last time. I mean, come on, you have to know he's a douche."

Frankie scoffed. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

"(Y/n) is just a—"

"—We're dating," you interrupted again. "So fuck off."

"No, we aren't," Tara shook her head. "Not really."

"Yes, we are," you nodded at Frankie. "Please leave. She's not sleeping with you tonight." He frowned, but started to walk off.

"That's not your decision, asshole!" Tara scowled and she reached out an arm to stop him. "Frankie, stay. You know what, I wasn't going to, but I will now."

"Frankie, leave. I mean it, you creep." You turned to her and glared. "Tara, listen to me, you—"

"No! Frankie, stay. Maybe I need the company," she shot back, narrowing her eyes. Frankie looked between you both, as did a few other people in the room who were starting to notice.

"They literally call him Date-Rape-Frankie, Tara. There's no way in hell you're sleeping with Date-Rape-Frankie. Frankie, leave."

"Frankie, no, stay. Well, what if I want to?"

"Then you're being stupid."

"Bold choice of words coming from you! You're not my mother."

"I'm not trying to be your mom, Tara. I'm using basic common sense. That guy is a creep and a perv," you pointed to him.

"Hey!" Frankie interjected, raising a hand to your shoulder.

"Fuck off!" you and Tara said in unison, dismissing him to glare right at each other.

"Well maybe I deserve the freedom to sleep with weirdos and whoever I want! I mean, who are you, the fucking sex-Nazi?"

"I don't have a problem with literally anyone else, Tara, but he's a weirdo!"

"Well then let me make that call! I'm not five. You don't need to baby me, I know he's a weirdo!" People were definitely staring now. You were both shouting, but a lot of it was drowned out by the EDM. It didn't stop others watching you point in each others faces and scowl.

"It's not babying you, Tara! It's basic caring! You have no clue about this shit, this is like your fourth party ever!"

"I've managed this far, haven't I?!"

"What, you want a cookie?!"

"Yeah, maybe I fucking do! I'm an adult, asshole! Let me do adult shit!"

"Wow, it's so adult and mature of you, to sleep with creeps and get hungover every Friday. How adult."

"Well, maybe it's not, but who gives a shit! I'm having fun for once! I'm being free without a fucking serial killer on my ass! I know you can't relate, but Christ, take the stick out from your ass!"

"Real nice," you shook your head. "This is what I get for helping you. Of fucking course." Before she could reply, you turned around and headed out the sliding glass door, into the fenced-in backyard. There was a pool back there, and you collapsed into a wrought iron pool chair, right near the edge.

People watched you warily, as you sat out there, but within minutes, the party was resumed. Even from outside, you could hear the thumping bass shake the windows gently as the glass moved in the panes.

There was a faint scent of petrichor from the small patch of grass out there, and the sky rumbled in the distance. It was peaceful out there, with small hanging fairy lights and the pool in front of you. You propped your legs up on the glass table and tried not to scream.

This was exactly what you should've expected, from Tara. Of course she would be selfish. Of course she would be brash. A part of you wasn't surprised. Disappointed, sure. But not surprised. You just sat there and tried to cool your breathing, watching the city lights in front of you.

You must've sat like that for an hour or two, just watching the city. It didn't feel like long enough. You might've even felt at peace, until you felt a hand on your shoulder.

"Um...excuse me?" You craned your neck around, looking up in your chair to see a concerned guy looking down at you.

"Are you (Y/n)?" He asked, awkwardly scratching his neck. You nodded, confused.

"Uh, yeah? Do we know each other?"

"No! No, I was asked by Tara, I think was her name? She wanted me to get you. She's your girlfriend, right?"

The worry came back, and you stood up. "Why, what happened? Where is she?" Sam was really going to kill you.

"She's in the guest bathroom, I think she's sick."

===+++===

"Tara?"

"(Y/n)?" you heard a very uneasy voice on the other end.

"Can I come in?" you asked, and when there was no response, you let yourself inside. She was on the other end of the massive bathroom, leaned up against the bathtub with her head close to the toilet bowl.

Tara looked absolutely green, with her hair sweatily stuck to her forehead and eyes barely open. "Christ Tara, how much did you have to drink?" you asked in worry, coming to stand over her.

"Oh, just—" she gagged like she was about to puke and you bent down to grab her and tug her towards the toilet bowl. You spun back to the guy in the doorway, who stared at you both with wide eyes.

"Can you get me some crackers and Gatorade?" you asked him, sending a hopeful glance. He nodded and closed the door, and you turned back to Tara, who was bent over the toilet bowl.

You moved her gently and lifted the toilet seat up. "Are you okay?" you asked with a frown. You felt like an idiot the moment it left your mouth.

She raised her eyebrows. "Do I look okay?" Tara mumbled.

"Well, no."

"Thass' good," she slurred. "I had too many," she hiccupped. You nodded.

"I'd say so. How much did you have Tara?"

She giggled. "This many." She held up four fingers with a giant, toothy grin and slumped with her arms encircling the toilet bowl.

"Since when?" you blinked.

"Since you got allllllllll pissy!" You sighed, hands going to her hair and pulling it back. She wrinkled her nose at you. "Why are you touching my hairrrrr?!"

"So you don't vomit all on it, idiot," you replied, shaking your head. Tara huffed.

"I'mnuh gonnuh puke."

And then Tara puked. Everywhere.

===+++===

You both sat there, that way, for about ten minutes. Tara vomited three times, during that span, and when she was done, you handed her the crackers and Gatorade and told her to do her worst.

She downed them in another fifteen minutes, sitting in the bathtub and eating while you sat leaned up against the bathroom wall, across from her, just in silence. The sounds of the party seemed to have died a little bit as the night droned on, and by now people would be wandering home or to someone else’s place.

While you waited, you shot Sam a text, letting her know you’d bring Tara home and that she was okay. Sam didn’t reply but she saw the message, and you figured that was good enough. When you checked the weather app, Tara finally spoke, coming to her senses a bit with more food in her system.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, staring down at the package for the crackers in her hand. “Thanks.”

You shrugged, staring at the toilet in front of you. It probably reeked in there, but at this point you were nose blind. “For what?” You meant for that to be it, just a small little acknowledgment, but Tara shook her head.

“Thank you for that. For being here.”

She stared right at you when she said it, and you knew she meant it with conviction. You nodded. “I know we don’t always get along, but I had your back, back there.”

“You have my back?” she asked, smiling a little and grabbing her Gatorade from the edge of the tub.

“I agreed to help you, didn’t I?”

She paused for a moment, then nodded. “You did, yeah.” Tara looked over at you, then tilted her head to the side. “I still don’t get why, though.”

“You were honest, for once.” It came from a surprising place, and you said it before you entirely knew you were speaking. You didn’t completely know what it meant either, until after you said it, but the words passed between you almost like a new understanding.

A few moments of silence came and went, before she spoke again. “I walk silently places at night in case I hear I’m being followed. By Ghostface. Same thing as when I’m home alone. I don’t do it as much anymore, but I still do it sometimes. Don’t tell Sam, please please please. She’ll make me go to therapy.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding gently. You leaned your head back up against the wall, craning it up to look at the ceiling.

“Why are you being nice to me?” She asked. You laughed, tracing the popcorn pattern of the roof with your eyes.

“I’m not the devil, Tara.”

“…Neither am I.”

“I know,” you said, and you reached your arm out for a cracker. She gave you one and you crunched down on it, while an especially large bass hit came from the speakers outside. “God, this music fucking sucks,” you groaned.

Tara nodded. “It’s really hard to dance to.”

“Well,” you shrugged, “it didn’t seem like you were struggling earlier.”

Tara frowned, then tilted her head in curiosity. “What’s your favourite song?”

You raised your eyebrows in amusement. “Why?”

“Just wondering,” she said.

“Okay… you’re going to laugh, though.”

“Am I?” she grinned. You nodded.

“Do you know that one song, The Promise, by When In Rome? It’s from the 80s, it’s super cheesy?”

She stared off for a moment, in thought, then shook her head. “Don’t think so, how’s it go?”

You rolled your eyes, but began to quietly sing it in a tone that wavered in between spoken word and humming. It was terrible and you were tone deaf, but it was the song. “If you need a friend, don’t look to a straaanger. You know in the end,” your voice broke a little at the low note, and Tara giggled but you continued, “I’ll always be thereee.”

“Wow.”

“Mhm. And then it skips a little bit and the chorus goes, ‘I’m sorry but I’m just thinking of the right words to say, I know they don’t sound the way I planned them to beee.’”

She cut you off with her hand, laughing hysterically. You felt your cheeks flushed, and in any other time you would’ve been annoyed with her laughing at you. But this didn’t feel mean. You just smiled right back.

“That was good, actually,” she managed, between small laughs. “Why is it your favourite?”

“Um,” you shrugged, “my brother used to sing it to me, years ago when I was scared.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Tara said, leaning her head on the tile wall of the tub.

“I have six.”

She blinked, then sat up straight. “Since when?!”

“Always, Carpenter,” you shrugged. “Everyone knows.”

“Everyone who?”

“Chad, Mindy, Anika. Even Quinn.”

“I didn't know. How come you never talk about them?”

”I just don’t,” you frowned. Tonight was definitely not the night to get into that. Instead, you pivoted topics. “Why, what’s your favourite song? I showed you mine, now you’ve got to show me yours.”

“I’m ninety nine percent sure that’s not how that saying is used,” she laughed, “but fine. When I was crying as a baby, my mom sung me this song, called Baby, I Love You by The Ronettes.”

“Don’t think I’ve heard of it.”

Tara shook her head. “Probably not, but they’re the same group that does that one song Be My Baby?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Apparently my mom had Baby, I Love You playing in the hospital, when I was born and everything. It’s kind of comforting. When I miss her, I play it.”

“How often is that?”

She shrugged. “More than you’d think, considering she’s a giant asshole.”

"That's always how it is."

"Mhm... and just so you know, I know Frankie was a creep. I wasn't actually going to do anything with him. Just flirt. Have fun."

"I know. I wasn't trying to babysit you, I just wanted to warn you. That creep has so many stories."

"I know. I just don't like being told what to do, sometimes. It's a whole thing. I'm working on it, seriously."

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you didn’t say anything at all. You both sat in what you assumed was a prolonged silence, until you looked down finally to see Tara’s eyelids falling heavy.

You stood up with a sigh. “You should go home.” There was no reply, and you checked out the small window in the bathroom to still see it was pitch black out. It was definitely too late to send her home this sleepy, and after the incident a few weeks ago, there was no way Sam would let her stay at yours. “Tara,” you nudged her.

She groaned, rolling over in the tub and snuggling up. You rolled your eyes, then looked out the window one more time with an annoyed grumble.

===+++===

The longer you had to walk with her on your back, the more you regretted this. Her arms were wrapped around your neck, face pressed onto the back of your shoulder and knees held up by your hands. You couldn’t see her, but you knew her eyes were shut and she was super close to being actually asleep.

"We make a good team, you know," she mumbled into your shoulder. You knew she was being funny, but you were too tired to laugh as you trudged up the hill. Carrying a drunk girl home was not at all what you had anticipated of the night, and though it had been shitty at the beginning and shitty until almost the very end, you could definitely say it wasn't shitty right then.

When you arrived at her apartment complex, Tara was soundly asleep and Sam came out to meet you both, taking her sister from you and stumbling with her towards the door. In the distance, right over another hill, the sky was already beginning to lighten up a bit.

Right as both Carpenters reached the door, Tara stopped for a moment to turn back to you with a smile. "Thanks, babe," she said with a cheeky grin that was only half awake. You smiled back.

"You too, babe."

Sam rolled her eyes, pulling Tara through the door. It was a pleasant night, still with the same faint scent of rain oncoming. In your weird, newfound peace as you walked home yourself, you didn't see that Quinn was watching you from the upstairs window.

===+++===

so that was fun lmao. anyways there will be a part 3 but you and tara are kind of maybe friends now? now it's time for feelings 😈

[cl6teen]

affection, ln4 ❀ chapter ii. the need to know

masterlist || chapter i || chapter iii

summary: [4.5k words] drunken nights spent in lando’s townhouse are an ode to your friendship, and maybe just a little bit more.

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

contains: lando and reader are in denial, self friendzoning, lots of reminiscing and fluff, lando taking care of reader, very lazy smut, one night stands, oblivious flirting, talks of sex, intoxication, unprotected sex, pull and pray.

note: not proofread, this can be read as a stand-alone or as part of my affection series, however this is not a required read for said series. (sorry for such a long wait! exams were rough and this was difficult to write for some reason)

❀ silverstone ❀

The overarching sounds of EDM and conversation ring through Lando’s ears in a destructive harmony that’s sure to hit him tomorrow morning in the form of a stupid migraine. Still, he pushes through the sea of bodies crowding around, trying to huddle in close enough to him to hopefully snag a photo of ‘Silverstone’s P2 driver’. It has a nice ring to it, since you said that with Max in this competition, P2 is the new P1, so he should be nothing more proud of his performance. 

Prideful he was, enough to confidently down shots with today’s true winner, forgetting how the Dutchman always lets as loose as he can during these after parties. And while they didn’t seem to hit whilst manning the dj turn-tables for the last hour or so, the newfound alcohol in his system was certainly making itself known now.  

His hands run through brown tufts of hair as he scans the club entrance for you, “Y/n?”

“Over here.”

You’ve sat yourself in an armchair close to the women’s washroom, where you nurse a half-full lukewarm bottle of water in your hands before taking yet another prolonged sip. 

“You look like shit.” He chuckles, leaning down to fix the strands of your hair that stray from the rest. 

“Tell me about it,” you roll your eyes playfully, a laugh escapes you both, “you’re not one to talk, either.”

Fair point, he shrugs. With tousled hair that manages to go in every direction except for what it was originally in, sunglasses threatening to fall off the bridge of his nose, and the faint red lipstick marks stained on his unbuttoned white collar, Lando looks far from put together. He’s impossible, how can he have the nerve to talk to how you look on a night out while he was so quick to leave you with Oscar (who you had no problems being with—he just didn’t seem to be the party type) after receiving a shameless once over from a leggy blonde passing your group by upon arrival.

“So, where’s tonight’s girl?” He stares when you passively fold your arms into each other and question, completely unaware of how the movement pushes your chest together. He clicks his tongue, stop looking, Lando. 

“Hell if I know.” He sighs in fake disappointment, in hopes of cutting that conversation off as quickly as it was introduced, “you’re staying at mine tonight.”

Okay, you nod. You don’t question it—you never do. Instead you sit quietly and watch him swipe around on his phone, no doubt shooting Max (Fewtrell) a quick text to let him know you were both leaving before calling up an Uber Black. Was this normal? To go home with Lando after a long night out? To you, the answer was always yes—hell, if you need him, say the word and he’s on the way, isn’t that what friends were for?

But other people can’t fathom the idea, they look at the two of you with doubtful eyes after explaining that although you can’t seem to go anywhere without one another, Lando’s just a friend. You sigh in exasperation at the thought, Lando Norris isn’t dateable; at least, not to you. He texts you about the girls he’s on dates with and nitpicks about how their breath smells, or how they had food in their teeth, or the potent perfume they drench themselves in to the point of inducing headaches in people they pass by. He’s whiney, and picky, and—

Lando’s fingers snap in your face and bring you out of your stupor, “What’s got you thinking so hard?” 

“Nothing.” Your little jump earns you a perplexed look from Lando, who can only stare you down, “nothing, just want to get some rest.”

“The car is here, but it’s a little walk across the street.” He notices the heels toppled over each other next to the chair—you truly are a mess. “Do you have your purse?” You nod, flimsily holding the bag up for him to see.

Lando is no Superman, he knows that well after an ambitious jump off a bunk bed and straight into an ER visit and a three month cast at the age of ten; but now he feels like he’s got the power to do it all, looping the straps of your heels on a finger and hoisting you into his arms bridal style. It’s far from a pretty sight, but it still manages to grab the attention of partygoers nearby, who point and whisper and gush at the scene in front of them. “People will see, Lando.” You look up at him through dark lashes in an unfamiliar way that gets his gears turning—more than anything, he just wants to get you to this car. 

“Yeah, but that’s okay.” He smiles nervously, letting you burrow your head into the crook of his neck to hide from the nipping British breezes outside. It's probably anything but okay; pictures might make their way around, and make both his life and your own a pain in the ass, but he can’t rain it on you like that. 

The subtle aroma of your perfume invades his senses, and all of a sudden he’s become so hyper aware of his touch on your skin, the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest—he shakes his head.

In Lando’s mind, you’re but one thing to him; a friend—one he intends to keep like that.

—

Silent car rides in the backseat have never been Lando’s thing, not when he’s drunk, not when he can’t use his phone because he has to watch you. He’s not complaining, really—but there’s a fleeting moment of relief when forty minutes later, the two of you find way to the steps of his townhome, and he's fumbling around in his pockets for the keys while you stay huddled close to him to keep warm despite already sporting his jacket. 

He’s profane as he fiddles with the door handle. You’re lucky he’s sweet enough to give you his clothing, because even though he practically threw it at you after listening to your nonstop whines about the cold, and how he ‘wasn’t even fazed by it’, he is actually freezing now.  

“Tonight was…”

Rough, Fun, you both say in tandem; Lando’s enthusiasm is unsurprising, he finds himself at home in these situations. Work hard, play harder, he would say—it makes sense, his job is high stakes, stressful, the media is a pain in the ass; you would look forward to the fun bit too.

However, you’re not Lando, you don’t vacation in Ibiza or party with Max Verstappen on weekends—you travel to Thailand and read on rafts, but your best friend making podium during a home race is more than enough reason to show face for the night, so you make your peace with it and thank whoever that you’re home now.  

“I need to change out of this,” you refer to the dress you’ve spent the entire after party readjusting and pulling down only to tug back up. “Lend me a shirt?”

“Did you really need to ask?” He speaks from a hunched over position while clumsily taking off his shoes. “You know where my room is.”

It’s a painfully familiar place; Lando’s never around enough to change it up anyway. When was the last time you were here? Maybe two years ago, during summer break, your memory is too foggy, but not to the point where you can forget your first time visiting. You and Lando were nineteen and twenty, and he wanted to use his well earned ‘Y/n’s daddy’ funded bonus on something practical. A house was not what you had in mind, but twenty five year old Carlos had a bottle of wine and a pipe dream of a three person housewarming party (one your father wasn’t too stoked to hear about, no doubt). It ended just as expected, wine drunk and full on that no bake cookie dough, albeit against the wishes of the drivers’ nutritionists, and you somehow bundled up in Lando’s brand new King bed while the other two found their comforts in plastic wrapped couches tucked away in the living room. 

The only thing different in Lando’s bedroom are the bedsheets (thankfully), and frames full of podiums that showcase just how far he's come. 

The smile you fight while reminiscing falters when you reach to tug at your zipper and fail. For what you spent on it, the list of inconveniences following your dress just seems to grow.

“Lan!” An exasperated huff escapes you, “could you come in for a moment?”

“My zipper, it’s stuck and I can't get it.” You want to cringe at your words, it’s a cliche—one of the many the universe seems to put you two in. Turning away from him, you move your hair out the way to expose your back, “do you mind?”

His fingers feel warm on your back, it’s a foreign feeling that creeps over the expanse of your nerves and has your breath hitched uncomfortably in the back of your throat. Something is just…different—maybe the alcohol, but you’ve been drunk around Lando one too many times and never has it ended like this, with his fingers nervously fiddling with the metal zipper, tugging at your dress material while gently trying to yank it down. 

“Lando, that hurts.” you breathe for the first time in what feels like ages. 

He kisses his teeth in frustration, placing a firm hand on your waist to keep you from squirming around, “You need to stay still.” The thickness of his accent becomes more apparent with each word. 

You feel so weak, letting just a simple touch bully you into submission, silently you nod. The zipper's journey down is agonizing and slow, for both of you; at this moment, Lando wants nothing more than to leave the room, yet his feet seem glued to the ground he stands on. It’s dimly lit, but you can still feel eyes burning holes into your bare skin, up from the nape of your neck and down to the top of your hips that the lace material underneath clings to. 

He watches the thin straps of your dress struggle to stay atop your shoulders and fall down your arms, further exposing the skin of your back—he sees a tattoo, one that he convinced you to get in Vegas last year, it looks good, better than he thought it would. 

“—did you hear me? Are you done?”

He should leave.

“Yeah, yup. I just got it down,” and as quick as he came, it feels like Lando’s miles away, “I’m gonna go now, just…grab whatever shirt you would like.”

–

“Hey.” You say quietly, padding your way to the kitchen island.

Okay. Things seem a lot more normal between you two. Maybe all that was needed to fix whatever tension between you both was a fresh change of clothes and some bright lighting.

“You hungry?” He prompts, leaning against quartz counters with the world famous boyish smile signature to Lando himself. “I can make us a little snack before bed, just to lighten the hangover you’ll probably get tomorrow.”

You hum sweetly, the time reads 1:53 am—it’s earlier than you thought, time always blurs together when you’re drunk. “Could you get me a glass of water please?” 

“Here you are, missy.”

You scrunch your nose up at his tone, “any name but that.” He laughs obnoxiously, proud of how he manages to get under your skin in a way only he can.

The sizzling sounds of grilled cheese on the pan accompanied by the dull hum of a faulty ceiling light are the only ones in the kitchen (you’re constantly telling him to get it fixed, but Lando never seems to follow up on your suggestions, opting for the answer of ‘I don’t even live here like that anymore’). Sipping from your glass, the lipstick stain on his collar catches your eye again—you’re curious, why didn’t he just go home with her?

“So what happened with the girl?”

“What?” He turns to look at you, brows furrowed into a knot. It’s not until you make a little gesture to the base of your neck that he looks down at his own to see what you mean. “Oh, her, what was her name again…Abby, Aria—no, Amy. She was too…onto me, only talked about racing and the other drivers. Don’t get me wrong I like, love, racing, but I want to have a natural conversation.” he searches for the right comparison, “like how you and me flow.”

You and me. 

Empathetic, you sigh into your hands, Lando is simple, adjacently, he likes things that are simple; routine and normal, like you two. “Lando, if you keep comparing girls to me you’re going to chase them away.” You think his attitude will be his undoing, but he says if it hasn’t happened now there’s no chance of it happening ever. “Even worse, they’ll think I'm your girlfriend.”

He shrugs calmly, so normal about the entire idea, “Max says they already think that.”

“Yeah well,” you huff out in mild annoyance, stuttering over your words at the thought of Lando discussing your relationship status with someone. “Max doesn’t know everything.” 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t date you in a million years,” mouthing off, he turns to look at you with a sour face, “too snobby.”

“You talk like you’re not daddy’s money too.” The reaction of your middle finger poking out is almost reflexive. “You’re not my type anyway.”

“That’s a lie. You thought I was cute when I first met you.” It is a lie, a painfully bad one at that—Lando has always been a cutie; though, his constant need to annoy you in some way seemed to drown that aspect of himself out. 

“And then your personality came to light.”

The witted banter between you always comes  naturally—he would poke and prod at your last fiber of patience with him until you finally find yourself giving your attention to his words and firing something back that would be surefire dig deep had it not been aimed at somebody like Lando. 

“Doesn’t mean you don’t think I’m hot.” Sniggering, he shoots you a teasing wink, “don’t worry, I think you’re hot too.”

“I know that, everyone thinks I’m hot.��

He scoffs to himself, he says you’re a narcissist, you say it’s not narcissistic if it’s true. 

The spurt of banter is short lived, and soon enough you’re back to hearing the hum of the kitchen lights. It’s peaceful enough, better than the crescendo of club music from an hour ago.

But you’re inebriated—and needing to talk to keep yourself from falling asleep while waiting on Lando, you start, “Have you ever thought about it?”

“About what?”

“You and me,” you repeat his words from earlier, but they’re not laced with the cool and calm confidence Lando had—instead, they’re shaky. You’re unsure if you want to know the answer to your own question. 

“Like…dating?” The pitch of his accent goes higher in confusion.

“Uhm, not dating per say…” you down your saliva to slow yourself before continuing, with the liquid courage flowing through your veins, the mental filter that once barricaded stupid nonsense from revealing itself is nowhere to be seen; which sucks because you could really use it right now.

“Do you mean hooking up?” Lando takes the meek stare you give as a yes, and your sudden shyness has him wanting to press you for more, “Have you?”

Have you thought about it? Screwing Lando Norris? Embarrassingly so, you’ve always wanted to sleep with an F1 driver (to know what makes these girls so insane for them, that’s what you tell yourself), but you prefer to keep those fantasies in your head, locked away in an untouchable space where nobody can reach. Still, it would be a lie to say it hadn’t crossed your mind—even if you harbor no romantic feelings towards him, people don’t usually mind sleeping with someone they find physically attractive. 

“And what if I have?” You probe, arms folding into each other as you watch Lando watch you out of the corner of his eyes. 

You’ll put him into a lot of trouble soon enough, and he dreads the day you do. “You’re funny.”

“So it never crossed your mind?”

Of course it has, look at you—unbelievably pretty even while piss-drunk and dressed in an old wrinkled t-shirt riding up your thighs. Though, he would never tell you that to your face; it would do him more worse than good. Lando might not love you in that sense, but he is a single man with an appreciative eye; he thinks many of the other drivers on the grid can attest to the fact that you’re stunning, some even going as far as using him as a means of snagging your number. He does you the favor of turning them down in your stead, though, because you would never get with any of them—he’s sure of it.

At least, that’s what he hopes. 

“Every guy has thought about hooking up with his best female friend, at least once.” He shrugs, not seeming to care about the way your mouth hangs open at his nonchalant vulgarity. Lando doesn’t actually know if it’s the truth, but he sure as hell feels that way about you, wrong or not. You don’t notice, but he’s already turned the stove burner off before facing you with a jerkish smirk, “what, did you want to try tonight?” 

“Jesus, goodnight.” You shove at his left shoulder and try to make a b-line back to his bedroom, only to be held back by Lando's outstretched arm that wraps itself around your shoulder. 

“Okay, okay,” he’s quick to plead, and he’s equally as quick to overlook the plans of goosebumps that settle across your body at his touch. “What I said was a dick move, I admit it.” Through a fanned breath, he heaves out, “but seriously, hm? What’s got you thinking about all that?”

What has got you thinking about all of this? The shots of Patron making its home in the pits of your stomach mixed with rumors that never seem to die down, maybe. There should be a warning sign, Patron & gossip: can lead to shamelessly flirting and innocently talking about topics like hookups and sex—with Lando Norris no less. 

And Lando…

He’s better than this, he knows he’s better than this, letting your suggestions lurch him into a debauched daydream of the two of you coming to a head in the bedroom of his home, skin hot from fleeting touches instead of warm alcohol, hands grabbing underneath the shirt hung over your body and finally being able to do what no other man could—

“It’s not going to happen.” 

—do for you.

You bring him out of his thoughts when you quickly dismiss the entire idea (disappointingly so), “I brought it up because I’m…bored, and drunk.” the tone of your voice goes high enough to pan your mumbled words out as a question, even you sound unconvinced of yourself. 

Lando recognizes your doubts just as you do. “You suuuure about that?” He says in a way that has you giggling schoolgirlishly into his arms and makes this a little more not-so-awkward. “You know you don’t need to lie to me.” 

While there's probably some truth to his reassuring words, he’s being bad, he wants this—maybe even more than you do, you can tell. It makes you a bit more still, knowing that he’s also, to some extent, got a hard on for you in a one-off sense. Meanwhile, Lando’s mind is going a mile a minute (it’s characteristic of someone who actually goes a mile a minute for a living), carefully observing your expressions to see what it is you’re thinking—to some degree he is a gentleman, if you say the words, he’ll forget anything was ever mentioned.

But boy does he want it.

Glassy eyes seem to pierce yours for what seems like an eternity, “Lando…” You hope your voice is calmer than how you feel, but it’s not promising; the world around you feels standstill—like you can’t even breathe for air. 

“Don’t say my name like that.” He mumbles, eyes softening at how your body relaxes into his own. The two of you dance around the point of no return, still, magnetically you gravitate towards it. You want to embrace it tonight, and worry about the mess brewing tomorrow.

“Fucking hell.” He curses in the endearing way only a Brit can, arm circling the small of your back and lips ghosting against your own, “it’s just a one time thing.” 

“Just this once…”

Just this once is what you tell yourselves when his lips catch your own, tongue languidly breaching your mouth whilst pulling you closer into him as you fall into his touch and wrap your arms around his neck. It’s just this once that he’ll push away plates and keys to pick you up and sit you on the kitchen counters for you to entangle your fingers within his curls, moaning for more as he kisses his way around your neck.

It’s just this once you’ll sleep with him.

—

Lando, like with everything else, is a massive tease. You should complain, but the feeling of warm hands hiking up your t-shirt short circuits your nerves and limits whatever capability you have to bite back, so you take it all; the ghostly touches, trailing kisses along your jaw, and hands wandering from the crux of your neck down to your entrance.

It aches so unfamiliarly, cotton panties are tugged haphazardly to the side and your pussy is wet and overstimulated. 

Yes, that’s the word you’ve been looking for. It’s all so overstimulating, the fading pulsations of your last orgasm brought on from having two thick fingers scissoring out of you, the puffiness of your nipples still sensitive from Lando’s ongoing oral fixation, and the feeling of his dick messily slotting itself between folds and up against your clit, it’s all just so much. 

“Lando…” You whine, “c’mon.”

He mocks you with a haughty smile, repeating his name shamelessly in a pitch much higher than your own. There’s little to be embarrassed about, yet you feel so exposed, in both a literal and figurative sense. He’s drawn two orgasms out of you with such ease, like your body is as simple to navigate as a track, all without even fucking you properly. Somewhere deep down you’re grateful he’s so observant; it’s a wildly different experience than what you’re used to in every way possible.

“Did you want me to do something? You need to use your words.” He feigns ignorance, like he doesn’t feel the clinging drag of your naked hips against his crotch. Right now, there is nothing nice about Lando—he’s brought you to the edge and left you to plead for him to dig his hands into the meat of your thighs and finally fuck you as promised. 

And with eyes barred shut, you do ask for it, muttering a quaint just put it in with a hushed whimper that shoots straight through him, fueling some kind of excessive desire to give it to you straight. 

“Lan!” Your instincts to twitch take hold of you when you feel the tip inch into you, stretching you out more than anything else. 

“Relax.” He soothes not only you, lazily thumbing your clit to distract your body from the unnerving stretch of him bottoming out, but also himself; there’s a prayer he’s mumbling at the back of his mind, asking for strength to keep him from succumbing to the biting grip your walls welcome him with, he could cum on entry alone. “That feel good?”

It feels great, but you can’t find the words to talk, so you opt for the drawn out whine that amplifies to a full moan when he finds his rhythm. You guess Lando fucks like he races, wild but calculated, hard and fast. His thrusts push you up closer to the headboard, and you think you see stars with each one. Lando’s dilated eyes are focused on the way your boobs move in tandem with his hips, which roll into your own unforgivingly. 

If this is what he gets when he does well, he needs to get those wins and that championship, as soon as possible. 

“Just like that, Lan.” You exhale out, fingers darting to grapple at his wild brown tufts, “I want more of you. Need it.”

To hear you say you need him, it makes him somewhat insane. His body is eager to close in on your own, lips ghosting over your jaw and inching closer to your ear as a hand gently finds its way to your neck.

“You feel so perfect.” He’s so breathless, practically whining into your ears about just how good you feel, It doesn’t reach you, you’re too focused on feeling every inch of dick buried into you. It feels like he’s mushing up your insides, hitting spongy walls that desperately cling to him. Every thrust is harder than his last, and the way the trimmed hair resting above his base brushes against your clit provides all the extra stimulation that has your head lazily rolling to the side.

You’re not sure when you cum, but you do. It’s wet and his name is hot on your tongue, as if you’re cheering him on to fuck you through your orgasm, and who is he to deny you? Lando’s undoubtedly happy to see the pleasure he’s giving you, his eyes blowing wide at the feeling of his lower abdomen growing soaked by your arousal. 

“Look at you,” he marvels, prideful and horny, “ever done that before?”

You haven’t—it freaks you out, yet despite all of your hurried apologies and groans of embarrassment, Lando finds himself dipping his head into the crux of your neck to suppress a groan. You’re so pretty it hurts him, his hips bore deeper into yours, hoping to get closer than humanly possible. 

When he kisses you, your legs slither around his waist as if to cage him. You’ll be the death of him—the two of you are playing a dangerous game, and you both know it. 

“You shouldn’t do that,” he smiles against your lips, and your body melts like putty, malleable enough for him to pry your legs from its digging into his back and push them closer towards you by your thighs. 

His pace noticeably falters when you flutter around him. You’re muttering something about coming inside, pleading for it—but he pays you no mind; you’re intoxicated by the feeling of dopamine, and as much as he would love it, the feeling of stuffing you full, he’s a smarter man than that.

He cums with a guttural fuck, barely managing to rip himself away from your clutches and spill himself onto your stomach—and you just watch, doe eyed and jolted by the warm feeling on your skin. You both pant heavily against one another, until all you can hear is the noise of the London night leaking in from an ajar window.

“Hey.” He lazes out, rubbing circles on your thigh.

“Hi.”

“This can’t—” happen again, get out to anyone—there’s so much he could say, but you would rather not hear it. Not tonight.

“Yeah.”

❀❀

tags: @babyvinnie @leclercdream @im-an-overthinker@ririyulife @1655clean @sukisheadlights @harrysdimple05 @drunkinthemiddleoftheday

(if bolded i couldn’t tag you i’m so sorry!)

[prodbyton]

Pervy wonbin at a party and he fucks you

actually writing a wonbin fic with almost the same concept as this…

but imagine wonbin who’s secretly been eyeing you for a few months. you two had a class together in university, and you had sat next to him first day of the semester when there were no more seats taken. he was quiet around you, and you just assumed he was shy.

he wasn’t usually this quiet, but you made him nervous. the way your perfume was so strong and it was all he could smell for the hour and a half class, and even after you had left the room the scent of you would linger in his nose. he would go to his room, look up your instagram handle and jerk off to your highlights each time.

so when he saw you at this party, in clothes that you didn’t wear in class, he knew he had to have you. the skirt you wore was so short, and he was praying that he could get close enough to you to get you to bend over in front of him. and the top that hugged your tits perfectly, he just wanted to put his hands on them, and his mouth.

after a few shots, you were starting to feel the liquor. everyone in the party had moved to a different area to play beer pong, but you opted on being a moral support for your friends. a warm hand grazed your waist and a soft excuse me left the mystery persons lips as they tried to move next to you. before you could retaliate to the unwanted touching, you realized who the person was.

“wonbin?” you look up confused, not expecting to see the boy at a party like this. he was so quiet next to you in class you wouldn’t think that he’d hang around people this wild.

“y/n!” his voice was almost slurred, and you could tell the both of you definitely had a couple drinks in your systems.

“what are you doing at a party like this?”

“oh yknow… im friends with the host. i’ve never seen you at one of his parties before, what brings you here?” he eyes you, and you suddenly feel shy under his gaze. he didn’t have that soft look to him right now like he usually had. it was dark, and you didn’t know if you liked it.

“free alcohol, hot guys, the usual college party!” you laugh, and he nods along with you before you turn back to watch the game of beer pong in front of you.

getting to the bottom of your cup of vodka redbull, you try to push your way through the crowd of people to get to the kitchen. little did you know, that wonbin was following close behind you. once you were in the kitchen, you finally noticed the long haired boy behind you. truthfully he was checking you out the entire time, the way you walked with so much confidence really entertained him. of course when you turned to see him, he looked away as if he wasn’t even there.

“didn’t know you were following me,” your voice was soft while you looked up at him, and he still had that dark look in his eyes.

“well yeah, wanted to make sure you didn’t get lost. also… we have the good alcohol stored downstairs if you want that instead of this cheap vodka,” his voice lingered and your eyes lit up.

“wait, really?”

“for a pretty girl like you, of course. but i want something in return…”

thats how you ended up in the basement bathroom getting fucked by wonbin.

propped up on the sink counter, holding yourself up by your hands behind you, while he he has a hand on your waist and one around the back of your neck. you moan out, his cock bullying into your cunt with no sign of slowing down. his grip on your waist so tight you’re sure theres going to be a bruise when he lets you go.

his hoodie discarded somewhere on the bathroom floor, leaving him in just a white tank and his pants pooling at his ankles. he had your shirt lifted up so your tits would be on display for him, along with your skirt flipped up and tights ripped so he could see your dripping pussy while he fucked you.

“wonbin… fuck” you cry, one of your hands going to rest where his was on your waist. he swats it away, and you bring it back to its original position of holding you up.

his hand around the back of your neck prevented you from looking anywhere else that wasn’t at him, so your eyes switched from looking at his face to how his cock disappeared inside of you. it was honestly disgusting how lewd this was… fucking this boy you’ve never even had a complete conversation. the sounds of your pussy squelching and skin slapping filling the room, almost as loud as his groans and your whimpers.

“feels good, pretty girl?” his voice was like honey, but you felt like you wouldn’t be able to speak so you just give him a nod. he didn’t like that though, hand around your neck traveling to your face to hold you by your jaw. “words. need words”

his hand around your waist sliding down to pinch your clit with his thumb and index finger. “feels good! feels so good wonbin” voice hoarse, you look at the boy through your teary eyelashes. he lets out a chuckle in satisfaction, picking up his already impossibly fast pace while looking you in the eye.

“good girl, gonna fill this pretty pussy up” still holding you by your face, he leans in to put his mouth on yours. it was wet and sloppy, no real rhythm just teeth clashing and tongue’s colliding. other fingers swirl around your clit making it hard for you to kiss him back.

“gonna cum, wonbin” you moan into his mouth, biting his lip after the words slip out. his fingers add more pressure to your clit, making you lightheaded.

“go ahead and cum, pretty girl. make a mess all over my cock” his words were enough to make you reach your peak, the string in your core finally snapping as your orgasm hits. hands that rested behind you move to pull wonbin closer to you, now chest to chest as you shake under his body.

his own orgasm hits him, your cunt squeezing him so tight to where he could barely move, pumping his seed deep into you with a loud whimper.

the two of you stayed connected for a few minutes, before he pulled out and grabbed some toilet paper to clean you up. you try your best to make yourself look presentable before you go back upstairs, lipstick smudged and mascara running only slightly. thank the universe for waterproof mascara… you think.

“i’ll go get that vodka now,” wonbin is quick to put himself back in his pants and get his hoodie on, slipping out of the bathroom.

can u tell i got carried away with this one? it wasn’t too pervy but i hope you still liked it !!

[so-much-for-stardust6]

Bathroom Rendezvous- Damon Albarn

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summary: your friends drag you out to a club and a certain brit caught your eyes.

lowercase intended

warnings: smut

a/n: was kinda inspired by the song ‘bathroom’ by montell fish :)

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the stench of sweat and alcohol hit me as soon as i walked inside the club. my friends forced me out of my apartment to ‘get out there’. they dragged me towards the bar, wasting no time to get drunk. i hesitantly did shots with them, not really in the mood to get black out drunk. i was tipsy when they decided to move onto the dance floor. i stuck with one of my friends as the other ones went to find someone to dance with. we danced crazily to whatever song was playing, laughing at our antics. the second i closed my eyes, she got dragged away by some guy. once i opened them, i was alone on the dance floor. i stopped dancing as a small frown appeared on my face. i took that as my cue to go sit down and wait until they’re ready to leave. i plopped down into a empty booth, dropping my head down onto the table.

“y/n! why are you sitting down? come dance!” one of my friends shouted at me.

i looked up to see a girl glued to her side, sweaty from the dancing they did.

“i don’t know, i think i’m good here.”

“party pooper!” the random girl called out.

i furrowed my eyebrows at her, a tiny bit of hatred flowing through my veins.

my friend just laughed at her statement and led them away. i just watched them with a look on my face that quickly disappeared once my eyes landed on someone. his gorgeous face was highlighted by the lights, his blond hair shining bright. he quite literally took my breath away since i breathed in a shuddered breath.

he must’ve felt someone staring at him cause he began scanning the club, eyes landing on mine. he flashed the greatest smile i’ve ever seen at me. i softly began to smile but immediately realized i’ve been caught staring. i averted my eyes and stared at my fingers instead. part of me hoped he wouldn’t come over but the other wanted him to. i looked back up to where he was and saw he was gone. i mentally panicked, scooting out of the booth and booking it towards the bar. i ordered 3 shots, downing them in seconds. the bartender stared at me in shock as the alcohol smoothly went down my throat. i slapped money on the counter and thanked the woman before heading to the dance floor.

i shoved my way past the sweaty bodies to reach the middle of the floor. my body just began moving on its own, dancing along to the song. i was too focused on myself that i didn’t feel a certain someone’s eyes on me. after the blond man noticed i was staring at him, he already knew he wanted to meet me. he thought it was a perfect time to go once i broke eye contact, but when i noticed he wasn’t in his original spot i left. he followed me to the bar, getting stuck behind some big guys before reaching the stools. i was already in the middle of the dance floor when he stood there. his beautiful eyes scanned the crowd and as soon as he saw me, he didn’t hesitate to make his way over. he shoved and squeezed through people before finally stopping behind me. he watched as i danced like no one was watching.

i jumped a bit when i felt a hand on my shoulder, i turned my head to make eye contact with the man. my mouth slightly parted, in disbelief that he was in front of me.

“sorry if i scared you!” he shouted over the music.

“don’t worry about it! i’m very jumpy at little things!” i laugh.

his heart fluttered at the sound of my laughter.

“i noticed you staring at me earlier!”

“oh-uh..sorry about that! you’re just really pretty!” i blurted out, face becoming red at my words.

“well, i can say the same about you!” he reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

i nervously bit my lip, face incredibly red.

“wanna dance?” he asked, extended his hand out.

i only nodded before taking his hand. he began leading the dance, getting lost in the music. i smiled at his moves before i began dancing.

the alcohol began taking over so i took a leap of faith and turned around to grind on him. i immediately felt his hands grip my hips, somewhat guiding me. i threw my head back to rest on his shoulder, leaving an open opportunity for him to kiss my neck. the feeling of his soft lips against my skin was enough to make me lightly moan. i would’ve been embarrassed but i heard him moan back. my stomach erupted into flames, my body craving this random man.

“fuck…i know we just met but let’s take this to the bathroom, hm?” his hot breath fanned over my ear.

i couldn’t muster up the strength to speak so i nodded. he quickly took my hand in his and led us to the bathrooms. luckily no one was near as we snuck into the women’s bathroom, going into the farthest stall from the door. the bright lights shined into his face, exposing more of his beautiful features that i wouldn’t have noticed out in the dark club.

“wait, i’m sorry but i never introduced myself.” he chuckled nervously.

“i’m damon.” he stuck out his hand.

“y/n.” i shook his rough yet soft hand.

“such a pretty name for a pretty girl.” he bit his lip, moving closer to me.

his bright colored eyes stared into mine before he finally connected our lips. they were softer than i’d imagine, moving perfectly in time with mine. my hand snaked to the back of his neck to push him deeper into the kiss. he wrapped his arms around my waist and brought me closer to him.

he pushed me against the wall, one of his hands moving to grab my thighs. he guided my leg up and i took it as a sign to wrap it around his waist. i felt his fingers tickle my skin as they hike under my dress, towards the one spot i’m craving him at. he doesn’t tease me and goes straight to the point, dipping his hand into my underwear. i moaned into his mouth at the feeling of his cold fingertips.

“so wet for me, baby. jump.” he mumbled onto my mouth.

i obeyed and jumped as he caught the back of my thighs to wrap my legs around his waist.

“damon…please..” i normally don’t beg this early but having the most attractive man ever making out with me like this excuses the behavior.

he wastes no time to unbutton his pants, struggling to shimmy them down his legs with one hand.

“your top..take it off..” he moans out.

i reach to slide the straps of my dress down my arms, struggling to unzip the zipper. damon saw me struggle so he decided to help, reaching one hand to unzip me. in a blink of an eye, the top to my dress falls and pools around my waist. i swore i heard him inhale sharply while staring at my bare chest. he uses his free hand to squeeze a boob, making me hum out in approval. he massages it, even going to pinch the nipple and tug it. he leaned down to kiss my neck, his kisses sloppy and he focuses on my boobs. he switches back and forth with his free hand, giving both boobs attention.

i rest my head against the wall, softly moaning out as he marks my neck. he trails his lips farther down my neck and chest until he got ahold of my boob. i let out an embarrassing loud moan as he sucked, nipping it lightly with his teeth. i heard him unbuckle his belt, feeling him shimmy as he tries to pull his pants and boxers down enough. i instantly felt his hard on against my thigh, his pre cum spreading on my skin. his long fingers toyed with my soaked underwear, teasing as he rubs me through the fabric. i tug on his hair and moan quietly, signaling him to stop the teasing. he smirks against my boob, pulling away to catch some breaths. he had the goofiest (not in a bad way) smile on his face while his chin was covered in his own saliva.

“you’re so cute.” i giggle, leaning to him to press a quick kiss to his plump lips.

i swore i saw him blush a little before he dropped his head to hide his smile. the cute moment was cut short when a loud bang echoed the bathroom, followed by loud laughter. my eyes widen in fear, hoping none of them came to the back stall.

“be a good girl and stay quiet for me, okay?” he whispered.

i had no time to react before i felt him slowly insert himself inside me. i didn’t even notice him move my underwear out the way either. i quietly gasp out, the feeling of him stretching me out made me tremble. he looks up at me through his eye lashes, watching my face as he slowly starts to thrust.

i bit my lip as i try to contain my moans. he starts to speed up his thrusts as his blond hair falls onto his face, bouncing with every hit. i mutter a soft ‘fuck’ as i threw my head back. i definitely hit my head a bit but i didn’t care as i was too immersed in the pleasure. he placed sloppy kisses onto my jawline, marking my neck area even more than it needs to be. i closed my eyes and it felt like my brain shut off for a moment as i let out a quiet moan. my eyes shot open before slapping a hand onto my mouth.

“what’d i say? is it too good that you can’t keep shut?” he whispered against my skin.

he snaked his hand up to mouth and left it there, letting my hand go back to his shoulder.

he left a strong grip on my face to keep me quiet, becoming more confident in thrusting harder and faster. i don’t know how but the girls who entered didn’t acknowledge the echoed sound of skin slapping. i didn’t care about keeping my moans as i let them all out against damon’s hand. i heard some slip past his lips too, causing me to clench around him.

“oh fuck, do that again, baby.” he groaned.

i obeyed and clenched again, watching as he throws his head back. i remove his hand from my mouth and take my turn to go and mark his neck, biting and sucking all over.

“you’re so fucking beautiful…” he slightly whimpered.

i physically felt my knees go weak and my head get fuzzy. that emerged this deep feeling in my stomach, signaling me that i’m close to cumming. i pull away from his neck and bring our lips together.

“shit dames, do that again..” i beg.

“do what?”

“whimper…”

i felt his hips stutter once i said that word. for a second i thought he wasn’t going to do it but he quietly began whimpering against my lips. i furrow my eyebrows and moan out as i listen to the sounds emerging from him. i once again go for his hair and tangle my fingers all up in it, tugging at it slightly to earn more noises.

“i think i’m gonna cum..” i softly cry out.

his hips sped up once he registered my sentence, hand even going to my clit to approach my release even quicker.

i let out a string of curse words as i feel like my release coming hard. with one more last semi-quiet moan of damon’s name, i came all over his dick. the sound of his name slipping past my lips and the feeling of me cumming sent him over the edge. he moaned out against my lips, hips coming to an abrupt halt. his cum spurted all inside me, filling me up nicely. we stood there for a minute catching our breaths, waiting for our heart rates to lower. we were absolute messes, covered in a coat of slick sweat, lips swollen from kissing, necks all purple and red, hair frizzled. he eventually slowly pulled out, the feeling of his cum dripping down my thighs make me bite my lip. he awkwardly bent down to grab some toilet paper to clean us up, tossing it in the toilet before flushing.

“do you think you’re okay to stand?”

“i should be.” i chuckle, overconfident in myself.

i unwrapped my legs from his waist before he slowly set me down onto my feet. i stood there for a few seconds before my legs became jelly and i nearly fell to the ground. he quickly caught me in his arms, helping me onto the toilet seat.

“maybe not.” he chuckled.

i slid my dress back on, damon helping with the zipper.

“do you think those girls are gone?” i whisper.

“uh, i’m not sure. i didn’t hear anyone leaving.” he tried to peek through the cracks.

“i’ll go out there and signal you if they’re gone.” he nodded at me.

i manage to get up, wobbly making my way out the stall. to my first judgement, it seems like the bathroom was completely empty but i had to double check. i bent down to see if anyone was hiding in the stalls but they were all vacant. no one stood by the sinks or mirrors either, which definitely surprised me.

“we’re all good.” i call out.

he swiftly emerges from the stall, the sweaty glow illuminating off his skin. we quickly made ourselves presentable, washing off our faces and smoothing out our hairs. and for our hickies, we just prayed the club was too dark to notice anything. i left the bathroom first to make sure no one was near. when i saw it was clear enough for damon to sneak out, i knocked three times. he quickly slipped out the bathroom, clearing his throat and smoothing out his shirt to act like nothing happened.

“so uh, what now?” i ask, knowing that this’ll end by splitting ways and never seeing each other again.

“we either continue to dance or we go a get some food. what sounds good to you?” he snakes an arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him. i smile at his response and action, a tiny part of me starting to fall for him.

“hmm, i am pretty hungry for some burgers and fries.”

“burgers and fries it is then.”

we began heading towards the exit, shoving our way past people. i searched around the club in hopes of seeing my friends so i can at least tell one of them that i’ll be leaving.

“damon! dude, we were looking for you!” a guy stepped in front of us.

“oh sorry, man. i’m-uh..i’m gonna leave alright?”

“leave where? who’s this?” the man asked.

“for some food. and this is y/n. y/n this is alex, my best friend.”

“well acquainted already i see.” he points to our necks.

i blush madly, realizing that in fact the club was not dark enough.

“ha ha, now fuck off man. i’ll see you tomorrow.” he jokingly rolls his eyes at him.

he leads us our the door, the chilly air hitting my skin. i instantly start to shiver a bit, craving the warmth of anything. damon pulls me closer to him once he realizes that i’m freezing.

“y/n?!” i hear a familiar voice call out.

i turn around to see one of my other friends about to walk in the club with a man to her side.

“hey! i was looking for you guys. i wanted to let you know i’m leaving.”

she eyes damon, probably making sure he isn’t a bit off. a small smile appears on her lips as she turns back to me, assuming she thinks he’s safe.

“alrighty then, i’ll tell the others.”

“thank you so much. love you, bye.” i kiss her cheek.

she began her walk back inside but turned her head to shout at us.

“don’t forget to use protection kids!”

we both laugh at her words, knowing damn well we didn’t use any earlier. we finally find damon’s car, quick to get inside and escape the cold air. he starts up his car and lets it warm up before driving off towards our burger date. one of our many burger dates.

[invinciblerodent]

About the altered animations in Astarion's first romance scene

I already knew that there's something of a precedent for large updates to change camera angles and facial animations around a little bit, so, on a lark, I loaded in my save from before the first romance scene in my current, Astarionmance playthrough, just to see and compare it to my recorded version, see if there's been any changes since then.

Well... honestly? My feeling is that the two scenes are pretty much only roughly comparable to each other at this point. Like not to be dramatic, but it's kind of almost a case study in how much body language can alter the perception and interpretation of the same dialogue.

In the version of this that I got originally in my game (on october 21st so in patch 3, through high approval, quite a bit before the party), the short conversation before leaving the main campsite has him wearing sort of a... heavy, darkly suggestive, almost predatory expression. He looks, overall, very serious: head pitched strategically forward so he's both leaning towards- and looking at the PC through his lashes (maybe crowding them a little bit, stepping into their space), his eyes are more narrow and provocative, and he's not wearing even a hint of a smile. I think it makes it very clear what the intent here is: to present Desire™, and show a façade that suggests his impending performance of the "ooh, the sexy vampire is now going to steal you away to have his wicked way with you" fantasy.

Comparing this to the latest version (as of the 4th of december, so shortly after patch 5, which from the patch notes I'm guessing is likely what brought these alterations on), it's... very strangely different.

I had not altered my settings, or the shots in any way (beyond cropping and resizing), the lighting just... seems to have been brightened. But, the most obvious change is that his entire body language is sort of... tipped more back and away from the PC now. His brows and eyes are a lot softer and more open, rounded, more like they appear later on in the confession scene, and he's smiling this.... kind of cordial, unsettlingly friendly smile, that seems (at least in retrospect) very obviously fake and plastered on. I think he's selling the illusion of the rakish debaucher, the dashing scoundrel about to rock your world, a lot less convincingly this time around.

Even though the voicelines have not been altered in a way I can detect, his face is saying something completely different, and it recontextualizes a lot of things for me.

[Also in addition, him breaking character momentarily ("I do mean sex, to be clear") now does also lose a bit of its humor for me. Just because this new way, there isn't as large a gap between the capital letter Performance, and the little side note he gives himself in the middle of it. Now it's somehow... less theatrical overall, and so the aside is less like he knows he sounds unnatural and his real self is peeking out from behind the lines, and veers a twinge more towards "in case you're dense and didn't actually notice that I'm seducing you, I'll dumb it down for you".]

Even as he's waiting for the response in that silly "ta-dah!" pose, his face is very different: instead of that sort of blank, "haughtily and hauntingly sexy", determined kind of look, he's now gazing at the PC with what (in motion at least) looks to me like it's kinda... going rapidly back and forth between almost a pained/unsure look, and... a thinly veiled disgust, maybe?

Like, that's... that's straight-up a grimace, man, I don't want anyone I'm considering sleeping with to be looking at me like that.

Within the scene itself that follows, the animation appears unchanged (or at least not changed significantly enough for me to notice without playing them literally side by side), but the following conversation in the morning is... also a bit odd, and has been edited heavily?

In my original recording, he seems to be making sure to look at the PC more, though only over his shoulder, and his features are harder, more severe again, as it is in line with the conversation before. The whole little exchange, before the arcana check and before it'd segue into talking about Cazador more directily, ends on a bit of an eyeroll and a hidden smile that can be construed as conspiratory, or just a bit sly and self-satisfied.

This kinda straddles the line between "hehe, you're caught in my web now" and "hehe, I'm SO good at sex"- the former being closer to what he's likely thinking, and the latter being one of the more obvious ways the PC can interpret that look. A+ on that, no notes.

But now, (first of all the lighting is overall much less warm, the whole scene looks cool and less afterglow-y) he doesn't really turn to face the PC, not even over his shoulder. This keeps his expressions concealed from them, but open to the player, which is an interesting choice, and his expressions are, again, a lot more in line with those from later scenes, when the relationship is well underway: it's less openly performative, and more just a... a sad, unguarded, almost forlorn, private look. My guy looks like he is speedrunning through all his emotions over the span of like 10 seconds here-

-and lands notably on this kind of unsettling shot, of this expression that's, while somewhat similar to the old one for the line "I didn't want to go too far" (that the PC can halfway see), is both more exaggerated, and kept entirely to himself:

I for one find this one a little.... creepy and cartoonish, tbh???? Which, I guess while it's in line with the whole "I'm such an evil mastermind, they've fallen right into my honeypot" way of thinking he is supposed to have in this precise moment, it, uh.

Listen, it just conjures in my mind a violently clear image of Robbie Rotten from Lazytown. Because it's just such an "I'm clearly being a villainous villain with a nefarious scheme and agendas aplenty" expression, he's all but twirling his mustache, and the fact that it's turned right to the player's face rather than being only hinted at for both person and character, makes it look... pretty heavy-handed. Which I guess is more indicative of this man having a charisma score of a whopping 10, but it takes away from the subtlety of the entire exchange, and kind of creates a rift between what the player, and what the PC can know/suspect.

Overall, these new animations look... very different, bit more like they're trying to drive the point all the way home? Now there seems to be a big neon sign that says "HE IS NOT DOING THIS FOR PLEASURE" over his head, rather than letting your figure things out for yourself later on.

Needless to say, I.... personally prefer the old version of this scene over this new one, lol.

(...... One final, mildly notable change I noticed is that they seem to have taken out the little moan they had my character make as he bit into her neck? In my old recording, there was a tiny, barely audible little "a-aah!", and that's just.... not there now. I'm not sure what that's about, if it's a bug or a feature, and I don't know if they had it for other player voices or not, but prior to now, they did go pretty hard into how getting bitten is, to many, quite pleasurable, so downplaying that now comes off as a tiny bit odd to me.)

(I do like how her tits look less squashed though. They perked my girl's girls up a little bit, which is kinda nice lol.)

Editing to say this: it seems like these animations are the same as the goblin party ones, only... in the daylight? Which, it could be a bug of some sorts. I reloaded it once and it was the same once more, but... it could be that my save is kinda weird there for some reason. Idk. Turning reblogs off because it could just be a bug.

[hey-august]

When it's time to party, we will always party hard

I wrote this one-shot a while ago and held onto it as a lil reward for getting 200 followers. I know that's not the usual milestone, but omgggg it's so amazing to me!!! To everyone who enjoys reading my nonsense about this goober - thank you, ily, I appreciate you lots and lots! 🤗🥰❤️❤️❤️

Word count: ~3.3k

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, buggy x GN!reader, no use of Y/N, not an established relationship, drinking, oral - buggy receiving, anal sex - reader receiving, protected sex, *glitter*, a bandana is not enough aftercare (but it's the thought that counts). All parties are consenting adults.

A/N: I originally imagined that the song playing in the background is Custer by Slipknot. It just seems like the kinda shit they'd put on after a while because 'lol cut cut cut me up' but the silly chop chop man will always put himself back together. I'm curious to hear what music you imagine!

Title comes from "Party Hard" by Andrew W.K.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ �� ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Pirates and drinking - already an overwhelming combination. Add loud music, rowdy jokes, lighthearted arguments, tall tales, drunk fights, a disco ball, sea shanties, and terrible dancing? Then it’s a full-blown we’re-gonna-get-fucked-up party.

Your crew was celebrating a successful treasure raid - overflowing chests led to overflowing cups. Buggy had ordered for all the alcohol to be pulled out and cracked open for tonight’s festivities, the tantalizing smells of wooden casks, sharp rum, and wine becoming a siren’s call for everyone on the ship.

This was your first time experiencing such a blowout and it quickly went to your head. The main party was contained in the mess, but the festivities quickly spread across the ship with people constantly coming and leaving. Clusters and cliques found everywhere and anywhere, like rowdy dust bunnies. Some groups gathered to sing loud choruses, others to conduct drinking challenges, one lot took over the crow’s nest to smoke, and countless others that simply enjoyed the fun.

The group that adopted you stayed in the mess, talking and chatting. Unfortunately, the concentration required to follow a conversation that could hardly be heard over the pounding music was far out of your grasp. Instead, you just pretended to listen. Nodding when it felt appropriate, chuckling when the others broke into laughter, and taking shots alongside the others. Meanwhile, you watched the crowd. It didn’t take long for someone to start a game of darts, but with throwing knives. Fun and dangerous. Someone else began collecting empty bottles to juggle. By this point, he was up to 5 bottles cascading through the air, with one balanced on his head. Delightful!

You took another shot and broke off from your group. You wanted to get a closer look at the juggler. He made it look so easy and you wanted to try. Sure, you never juggled before, but it couldn’t be that difficult. Navigating the surging crowd was a challenge that you succeeded in overcoming. The victory was short lived when you misjudged your next step. Your foot caught the corner of a chair like a ship hitting shallow coral. The momentum propelled your forwards and you grabbed onto the first thing that touched your hands. A person. A person who grabbed you back, trying to fix your incoordination. It took you a moment to realize that the hands steadying your body didn’t line up with the arms you grabbed. Shit. That was when you finally recognized the coat in your grasp.

Buggy’s hands brought you back to your feet as he turned around to survey the damage. Your face was flushed, but you were fine. The red tint was probably because of the alcohol. And embarrassment from losing your sea legs. Even worse, the humiliation made your body feel weaker, like your knees were going to give out. At least you thought that’s what it was, until the butterflies in your stomach took flight. Stupid blue butterflies with cute red noses. 

Buggy felt your grip tighten so he slipped an arm around your back, propping your unsteady form against his. Having lived most of his life above water, it took a lot for the captain’s sea legs to falter. Although, the sweet look of shame on your face did make him feel a little woozy.

“S-sorry, Captain. I didn’t see you there.” Feebly, you tried to pull away, but you couldn’t. You didn’t really want to. And Buggy didn’t want to let go yet, either.

“Damn and here I was thinking that you fell for me,” he joked. 

You didn’t think your temperature could get any hotter, but now you were hoping to melt a hole in the floor and fall away. Hopefully it wasn’t obvious how fucking flustered you were. A floating hand came by holding two shots and the expectant look on your captain’s face told you that one was for you. 

“C’mon, it’s a celebration,” Buggy encouraged, squeezing you and kicking back his shot. 

You took yours and winced as it hit your throat. It almost felt cool, soothing the torrent of thoughts raging in your body. Looking back at Buggy, you noticed a few drops trailing down the corner of his mouth. Sloppy. Adorable. Without thinking, you reached over and wiped the liquid with your thumb. Before you could pull away, the clown flicked out his tongue to lick your thumb. He apologized for wasting alcohol and winked. That fucker.

The bashful frown on your face was too much for Buggy. It was fun pressing your buttons, but this was quickly turning into a dangerous game. Reluctantly, he loosened his grip on your body to release you back into the wild of the party. He watched you sway slightly, as if your body forgot how to stand without him. His body tensed as he resisted the urge to pull you back into his embrace.

Thoughts swirled in your head, carried on the current of alcohol. If your captain was acting so forward, why couldn’t you? It is a party after all…

“Captain, would it- would it be okay if I kept thinking about you? At night?” you stumbled over the words, eager to get an answer.

Buggy cocked his head to the side. This was a surprise - albeit a welcome one. He pointed at himself questioningly and you nodded. His eyes narrowed and his grin broadened dangerously. Leaning forwards, Buggy whispered in your ear. His voice sent chills down your spine, conflicting with the heat between your legs.

“How about you do more than thinking?” 

His breath was warm and you wanted to feel it everywhere on your body. You wanted to feel him everywhere. You nodded.

Buggy grabbed your hand and strutted away, leaving you with just a hand. You followed the direction his appendage pulled, trailing behind your captain like a puppy. He guided you both to the closest empty corridor, dragging you the last few feet by summoning his hand. Spinning you around in a clumsy two-step to the muffled music that reverberated through the ship, he pressed his lips against yours and moved past a few crates stored in the dead-end hallway. Still with wobbly legs, you grabbed his coat to stay upright and held your mouth tight against your dancing partner. The taste of rum and spit coated your tongue. He tasted sweet and bitter. And a little dirty. 

Breaking the kiss, Buggy tilted your face up with a finger on your chin. He searched your eyes, looking for any sign of hesitation. It wouldn’t be the first time the pirate clown misread a situation and he wasn’t in the mood to be slapped in a not-sexy way. Your crashing mouth against his was enough of an answer and he eagerly reciprocated the affection. The next break was initiated by your breathlessness and dizziness. Pulling away, you saw that Buggy wore a similar expression with stars in his eyes.

“Why don’t you show me what kinds of things you think about?” Buggy prodded in a low voice. He placed your hand on his erection and used you to pet himself.

“Fuck,” you whispered, surprised by the pirate’s large mast. Although you said that for yourself, his cock twitched in appreciation.

“Please? Show me,” he whined, grinding against you. The begging tone in his voice made your throat tight and put your stomach in knots. That was nice. You liked hearing that.

Sinking to your knees, you undid Buggy’s pants and shimmied them down enough to access the treasure you’ve only dreamt about. The tip of his fat cock glistened, coated in precum. You blew on it lightly, enjoying how it swung and bobbed. Buggy hissed in anticipation.

“D-don’t be such a tease.”

You blew again. He groaned in pleasure and frustration. Holding the base of his cock, Buggy pressed it against your lips. At the very least, this should keep you from treating him like a fucking whistle. Your eyes fluttered as it throbbed against your lips, smearing precum like chapstick. You gave in and let Buggy into your mouth, relishing the soft moan he rewarded you with.

You sucked, licked, and caressed him until your jaw ached and your chin was coated in drool. Needing a break, you dragged your tender lips down the side of his cock. Kissing the base, you worked your way down to bathe his balls with a wide lick. You just barely hear Buggy muttering sweet nothings over the faint music. He placed a hand on the back of your head and pressed your face against himself. Spurred by his encouragement, you gently sucked and kissed his balls, coating them in your spit. You like how his cock rested on your face, accidentally tapping you a few times when it twitched.

Nearby voices broke your concentration. You looked up and saw Buggy eyeing the end of the hallway. He looked back down and - fuck - you looked so good down there. Obscene and beautiful.  He blinked a few times trying to clear his mind.

“N-no one can see anything as long as they don’t come down here. Crates are in the way,” he mumbled while thoughtlessly grinding against your mouth.

The voices got louder then softer, soon they were drowned out by the ambience of the ship. Whoever it was didn’t pay any attention or pause. While it felt naughty and a bit exciting, neither of you were in the mood to play a fucked up game of hide-and-seek. Before anyone else could come by and interrupt, Buggy brought you into the storeroom at the end of the hallway. One hand led the way, opening and closing the door, while the other pulled you along, taking you to one of the barrels kept in the room.

The hand you held pulled you across the barrel, your stomach and chest pressed along the top. You let your head drop into your arms for a moment. You were breathless, excited, and overwhelmed. Afraid that you would forget to live in the moment by being too interested in what might happen next. But this moment is more than you ever fucking imagined. The taste of Buggy’s cock in your mouth, your face coated in precum and spit, and now, here you were waiting for his touch.

Muttered profanity and rummaging brought your attention to your frantic captain. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Buggy patting and checking his coat pockets with floating hands and arm stumps. One hand seemed to emerge proudly until you both noticed the glove was covered in glitter. That is definitely not what he wanted and his hand actually looked disappointed in itself. You laughed at how dramatic Buggy is, even when it’s just a fraction of himself.

The clown cast a joking sneer your way before being interrupted by his other hand. Why he’s interrupting himself, you don’t know, but it makes you laugh again. Pulling himself back together, Buggy told you to get ready. You undid your pants and pulled them down enough to grant him access. Meanwhile, Buggy took the condom and lube he pulled out and prepared himself. The crinkle of the foil packet had your heart pounding.

A slap to the ass let you know that the fun was about to begin, the sound of his bare hand on your body was sharp. A rough hand pulled your ass cheeks apart as he kneaded your doughy skin.

“Fucking amazing,” he sighed while stroking his lubed cock.

Buggy leaned in and spit. You shuddered as it trickled down. He swiped the liquid with his thumb and pressed it against your asshole. Teasing you. Applying just enough pressure to make you feel delirious. You bucked your hips, trying to get something more. More pressure, more movement, something, anything.

“Tell me what you want, use your words,” Buggy crooned, rubbing circles that went to your head, dizzying your mind. You could still hear the dull sounds of music carrying through the ship. The heavy bass made you feel like your heartbeat was echoing everywhere.

“F-fuck me! I want you in me, please!” you cried.

“Keep going. I need to know what you think about~” he said in a sing-song lilt. 

Impatience and need raged in your body, consuming all rational thought. You took a deep breath, preparing to say things that you had only planned to keep contained in your fucked up head.

“Captain, I want you to fuck me in the ass,” your voice was shakey, but you kept going, “I w-want to feel your dick stretch my ass while you fuck me stupid. I don’t want my body to forget what you feel like.”

While you couldn’t see the brief surprise flit across his face, you could hear it in his husky voice.

“Damn, I didn’t expect you to be so filthy. You fucking pervert,” Buggy said as he pulled his hand away and slapped your ass again. It stung in a delightful way.

A breath lingered in your throat at the feeling of the tip of his cock pressing against you. Buggy entered, eased by the lube and spit. He could see your body soften with the sensation.

“Y-yeah, like that please,” you whined, wanting to encourage your captain.

Panting, Buggy grabbed your waist and thrusted in time with the music floating through the walls. Hitting quick and deep, as if he knew what your body craved. It wasn’t long before the wet sounds of your bodies connecting filled the room, accented with moans of pleasure.

“I-is this wh-”

“Yes! You’re d-doing so good, Captain. So much better than I imagined.”

“Of-fucking-course,” he grunted, insulted by the insinuation that your imagination could be better than the real thing. He snapped his hips into you harder, wanting to pulverize those measly thoughts and replace them with memories that would make your legs shake. The high pitched whine you released let him know that he was hitting a good spot.

“Ooooh, that feels s-good…” Your words slurred together, strung with ecstasy and alcohol. 

Buggy’s hands pawed at your hips as he continued slamming into you, the movement jostling the barrel beneath your bodies. The ferocity in his movements were numbing your mind and body to everything except his touch. Each thrust loosened all thoughts that weren’t about your captain. The constant jiggling of your body dulled everything that wasn’t extreme - that wasn’t his bruising hands or his hard cock that refused to relent to your tight ass.

You were in absolute bliss, drifting on golden waves of lust, desire, and cock. You could hardly lift your head up, choosing to rest it against the wood grain and drool.

“D-do you think about coming while I screw you? I bet you fucking do…”

Buggy’s taunting words lit a fire in your body. While you were content to be fucked senseless, it wouldn’t take long to come and you absolutely imagined it before. Countless times. Sluggishly, you wiggled your body, moving a hand between your legs. It took a moment to get comfortable, since you didn’t pull your pants down far and your unsteady hand had to navigate through that blocker. Once you were in an okay position and playing with yourself, you tilted your head to the side so Buggy could see you nod.

“M’close,” you whined.  

You didn’t have to tell him, Buggy could feel it. Your body was tight. Tense under his hands. Your ass was squeezing against him, increasing the pressure and friction you both needed. Your orgasm was at your fingertips, just waiting for the final push.

“Where d-do you want me to finish?”

“-in me, f-fucking come in me, please. Want you to come too. W-wanna feel it.”

Buggy’s body threatened to fall apart at the sound of those words. He’s pretty sure his neck split a fraction when he tilted his head back in delight. Worried that he might actually fall apart entirely, he hunched over your back and leaned into his impending orgasm. He was in a frenzy, bucking his hips against you, while also rocking your body and barrel against him. Going so deep it ached. Making your body confused, believing this is what it was created for. 

The way your sweet hole accepted him so readily each time he slid into you, but gripped him tightly when he pulled back was more intoxicating than anything else Buggy had tonight. Your yelps and cries of pleasure carried him higher, closer to the precipice until he tipped over. His weak seams threatening to break again, Buggy slumped over your back as he fucked through his orgasm.

You felt Buggy’s cock pump inside, flexing against your already strained hole. That sensation and the weight of his body collapsing on yours, which felt surprisingly intimate, were the final pieces you needed - wanted - before you came. You had imagined what it would be like to come on his throbbing cock, feeling it twitch inside you, and holy shit. Your hands and toys were a depressingly pale comparison to the real thing.

Buggy kept moving until you finished with a deep breath that gently rocked his body. Finally letting go of your hips, Buggy braced against the barrel and pushed himself upright. Reluctant to pull his softening cock from your body just yet, he ran his hands along your lower back, thumbs pressing into muscles that must be tender. A shudder coasted through your body, causing your asshole to pulse and flutter. Buggy hissed, feeling both overstimulated but craving more. He definitely didn’t have another round in him just then, so he pulled out.

You felt empty. Satisfied. Messy. But also empty. You stayed resting against the barrel, not trusting your wobbly legs or the spinning in your head. Both were probably from getting dicked down so successfully, but it could still be the alcohol. You listened to the sound of snapping rubber, which was followed by the sound of rustling fabric. 

Groaning, you pushed yourself up and turned to see what the pirate captain was looking for this time. He was unsuccessful so far. And then that damn hand emerges from the glitter pocket. But this time, it was his bare hand. Which was sticky. And now it’s sticky and covered in glitter.

“For fuck’s sake,” Buggy growled, swatting his arts-and-crafts hand away with his arm. You found that fucking hilarious and threw your head back in laughter. Although Buggy wasn’t keen on being laughed at, he did like the sound. Giving up on his quest, the clown used his other hand to tug the bandana off his head and straightened his hat afterwards. He held the square of fabric out towards you.

“Sorry, I can’t find something else. This should be enough until you get to the showers,” he explained.

This was like a dream. Better than a dream, really. You never would have thought Buggy would hand off one of his bandanas for post-sex clean up. Dirty, like a pirate, and you liked it. You accepted the gesture and gingerly cleaned yourself, clearing away just enough that you could get dressed.

Buggy waited by the door until you were ready. You walked over and before he could open the door, you stuck out your foot. Tonight had been full of surprises and cause for celebration. Even though you had already pushed your luck, maybe there was room for a little more. Trailing your fingers on Buggy’s coat, you leaned in and pressed a light kiss against the corner of his mouth.

“You know, I’ve thought about what the captain’s personal shower must be like…” you said coyly.

Buggy reached up to grab your chin before realizing it was the glitter hand. Rolling his eyes, Buggy matched your gaze instead.

“I never woulda thought you were such a greedy slut for your captain. Seems like there are a lot of thoughts in that head that I need to deal with.” He flashed you that dashing, mischievous smile that always turns you into putty.

Buggy pushed past you to exit and tilted his head, inviting you to follow. And you did, without wasting another thought.

[perfctvelvet]

hiii!! i have a request, if it’s not too much to ask.

margot robbie smut where her and y/n are exes but not over each other but have to see each other often because they’re doing a movie together. margot thinks she sees y/n flirting with some other actress and gets jealous, y/n realizes and one thing just leads to another.

Margot/Reader Content: mention of break-ups, exes, toxic relationship if you squint, jealousy, angst, smut (18+ only!!!), oral.

A straight face and a closed mouth is the best way to avoid trouble. Minding your own business and looking the other way, helps too. Margot fails in both of those categories however, and she’s afraid she’s gonna do something stupid tonight.

Against the wishes of her agent (and that tiny voice inside of her), she decided to sign onto a new project. It’s not just any project though. Margot is deliberately signed to do this particular movie once she saw who was on the casting list – Y/n. Originally had planned to take some time away from the spotlight and take time for herself after her personal life went to shit. Then she heard through the grapevine about Y/n in talks to star in some movie, and Margot threw her “hibernation” plan out the window. She did a little sweet talking to get her way and she was casted to star alongside her ex. Next thing she knows she was being invited to a pre-production party, one Y/n will be at.

“I want no parts in this!” Her P.A. proclaimed when Margot insisted on going to the party despite Y/n’s presence being known. The mischievousness was written all over Margot’s face. She was going to see Y/n.

It’s been almost two months since their last break-up. Y/n called it their “last and final” break-up, but Margot wasn’t so sure. It wasn’t the healthiest thing to break-up and get back together as much as they did but it had become sort of a routine for them. Margot was just waiting for Y/n to come back to her.

“Nothing is gonna happen,” Margot tries to reassure her assistant. She knows how to appear cool, calm, and collected despite the inside of her head going crazy. If she doesn’t see Y/n for another week she’s going to lose her mind. That’s been her girl for years and she’s not letting her go. Margot Robbie, the little trouble maker she is, is ready to start some shit if she has to.

The scene is not an unusual one for her. Margot and Y/n would always go to each other’s pre- and post-production parties. Y/n said that Margot was her “good luck charm.” This ritual was interrupted when she broke things off with Margot. Ever since she hasn’t gone out. It was a little weird to be back out, but that’s because she didn’t have Y/n on her side. Margot is no stranger to these parties and she knows how to work a room. Her P.A. is getting settled in, greeting some people they know, and some strangers she doesn’t, while Margot’s eyes scan the crowd for Y/n. She’s hard to miss with a face like hers. But in the sea of conversing people Margot doesn’t see her.

“Fuck.”

She feels stupid for coming out now. It’s peak time and there is no sign of her or any one from her team.

“I’m gonna get us drinks. You go do what you gotta do,” her assistant gives her a look that screams “don’t do anything that will end up on TMZ tomorrow.” Margot can’t make any promises depending on what she might see.

She wades through the crowd, eyes moving rapidly around the room as she tries not to look like an idiot or creep. Margot searches for any sign of her girl: her perfume, her laugh, something. These parties are usually never this packed and it feels like the universe is against her for that.

“Damn it.”

Margot feels like giving up until she just so happens to look over her shoulder. She was looking back to see if her assistant was anywhere near, but she instead got a clear shot of the corner of the room. There she was in all her glory, Y/n. But she wasn’t alone. Margot felt her face go warm and her blood pressure spike. Some dickhead was leaning in way too close for comfort. She looked like a loser and not like Y/n’s type at all. Margot then recognized her as some ‘up-and-coming’ actress on the scene. She has seen her work before, and she is talented, but right now she’s enemy number 1.

The worst part was that Y/n was laughing at whatever she was saying.

Y/n didn’t look sad or like she missed Margot at all. She looked beautiful and refreshed. That tiny little voice inside of MArgot that is sometimes able to command her was telling her to leave Y/n alone. Telling her that Y/n is happier without her and that she should go home and find a way to ditch this project. Margot has become an expert in ignoring that voice though. She has time to think later, right now it’s time to act.

Her feet move her towards that little corner in the room. Neither of the two people she is about to confront are aware of her presence until she gets closer and begins to speak.

“You two look cozy.”

Y/n’s face drops and the actress she’s talking to straightens up. Margot is well aware that her presence has the ability to make people turn heads. The woman looked as if she was trying not to fangirl.

“Margot,” Y/n greets her bitterly.

She’s pissed off that she’s here, but she shouldn’t be surprised. She was the first one to know that a last minute role had been filled and Y/n somehow knew that Margot would pop up back in her life. She had to go no-contact with her or else she would end up right back in her bed. It was hard because their lives had become so intertwined after the years; it seemed almost impossible to avoid Margot. She was doing so good though up until this very moment.

“Oh don’t mind me, you two can carry on.”

The look in her eyes told Y/n she was ready to start something at any moment. She used to find it hot when Margot would be possessive over her but right now she feels nothing but embarrassment. She looked down at the ground and wished it would swallow her whole.

“I’m Rachel,” the actress who was going to be on the screen with them sticks her hand out to formally greet Margot, but she just stares at her hand. Y/n felt painfully embarrassed that Margot was willing to risk her reputation over jealousy.

“Rach, I think you should go,” Y/n says suddenly. She gives her a sympathetic look. Rachel doesn’t need another hint that she’s not welcomed right now. She nods her head before scurrying away before any trouble could start.

Margot takes her place but this time she leans in closer than Rachel.

“You’re unbelievable Margot.”

“Why aren’t you returning my calls?” She asks, blatantly ignoring the anger on Y/n’s face.

“We’re not together anymore, remember?”

“Don’t be like that Y/n .”

She crosses her arms and scowls like a pissed off child. She was so angry with Margot, but it’s also been a while since she saw her and somehow she’s gotten cuter. Y/n also had a tiny little voice in her head that talked her out of trouble, but she was more keen on listening to it. For some reason that little voice wasn’t appearing though. It wasn’t telling her to run the opposite way or go find her friends as Margot moved in even closer. She practically had Y/n’s body pinned to the wall. She looks into her eyes for the first time in ages and her knees almost give in. This is why Y/n had to go no-contact with her — she’s never going to be over this woman otherwise.

“You know I miss you right,” Margot Robbie, the smooth-talking trouble maker, places her hand on Y/n’s cheek. She can feel that she’s warm too. She has been so alone since Y/n left so touching her feels like a gift from the heavens. “Miss you so much,” she confesses.

Y/n is speechless. She can’t bring herself to open her mouth and say the exact same thing. She feels frozen in place. It feels like it’s just the two of them in this crowded room.

“Margot,” she manages to choke out. Y/n doesn’t have to say anything else, all Margot wants is to hear her say her name.

It takes one look for her to know she’s a goner. Next thing Y/n knows, she’s being pulled out of the bar, to the parking lot, and into Margot’s car. It’s just the two of them now so she doesn’t have to worry about any judgment from someone who might see them. She missed her too; missed her so damn much. Margot’s not the only one in this relationship with no self-control. Y/n straddles her and forces her lips to hers. Surprisingly Margot doesn’t taste like alcohol, instead she tastes of mint and lemon. Y/n feels so desperate for her, but she can feel Margot’s desperation too.

Margot wraps her arms around her waist and Y/n melts into her. She moans into their kiss, loving how soft Margot’s lips feel against hers. They fit together like a puzzle piece and she began to wonder why she even decided to leave her in the first place. They’re somewhat dysfunctional but they work so well together. Margot’s tongue slides into her mouth and Y/n welcomes her in. Neither of them mean to get so sloppy but desire runs over. Y/n is so lost in their kiss that she leans back against the steering wheel with too much pressure and accidentally honks horn. It makes her yelp and Margot jumps. They both look at each other, Y/n with a horrified look on her face that soon relaxes when she sees the smile on Margot’s face. “Always so clumsy,” she teases her. Y/n smiles back at her before kissing her again. This time Y/n feels her hands move under thigh. Y/n is wearing that cute skirt Margot likes and she wonders if she was expecting to see her tonight. Her bare skin drives him crazy.

“Get in the back,” she demands, which Y/n is more than happy to follow through on.

Her back seat is tiny, but it doesn’t stop them. Margot is way too determined to get Y/n out of that skirt. Y/n doesn’t have a chance to breathe as she pushes her skirt up to find that she’s not wearing any panties. Margot wasn’t unfamiliar with the concept seeing that she would sometimes forgo them if they were going out together and she wanted to be naughty. Margot felt a pang in his stomach because she wondered who Y/n had in mind when she made that decision.

“Someone knew they were getting lucky.”

“Shut up.”

Her embarrassment is quickly replaced by pleasure when Margot lowers herself between her legs and licks her clit. She has been deprived of this honey pot for almost two months, she’s not wasting her time.

“Fuck Margot…baby,” Y/n moans out. It’s like music to her ears and she wants to hear more.

If Margot hadn’t let it be known that she missed her Y/n certainly would’ve felt it in the way she licked her. Margot was like a feral woman eating and drinking for the first time in days. Y/n tasted sweet, like a ripe strawberry in the summertime. Her pussy was so responsive to her too. Margot can feel her clit pulsing against her tongue every time she presses against it. She’s in between teasing her and straight up devouring. Her fingers dig into Y/n’s plush thighs and it makes her squeal.

“That’s it baby,” Y/n encourages Margot to go wild. She always raved about how she loves Y/n’s taste and how loud she can get for her. Someone might be able to hear her, but that’s what makes it so hot. Her hands rake through Margot’s shiny hair before she gets a firm grip on it.

Y/n finds herself grinding against Margot’s face and she just takes it.

“Fuck Margot…your mouth,” she whines almost incoherently.

Her tongue slides across every inch of Y/n’s pussy, making her feel sheer ecstasy. Nothing, and no one, is better than her. Margot’s mouth is so sweet and her hands are skilled. Maybe people would consider her stupid and weak, but her touch alone has Y/n reconsidering the break-up. Only five minutes in and she’s about to reach her peak — no one else can do that to her.

[levi501ackerman]

My Chance Has Come At Last | Hange x Reader Fluff

masterlist

Summary: AU where Levi, Hange, and Erwin go Miche's birthday party. There’s a shit ton of people and Hange sees you in the crowd. Hange thought you were too pretty to talk to her. She didn’t expect her shirt to be the conversation starter between you two. Lots of Dead by Daylight references and if you don’t play that game I hope you still enjoy the story. JUST PRETEND YOURE LEVI LISTENING TO TWO NERDS TRY TO TALK TO EACH OTHER!!

Word Count: 2.2k

Megan's Note: Song Correlation: "There Is A Light That Never Goes Out" by The Smiths. Posted: 5/17/24.

Hange exhaled with rage and felt charged to knock the living daylight out of Levi. They planned on pregaming at Erwin’s place before going to Miche’s birthday party. Hange didn’t plan on Levi spilling wine on her top. 

“Run little man.” She said fed up, but light enough to get a laugh from the two.

“You can borrow a shirt,” Erwin said, leading Hange toward his room. Hange rolled her eyes at how clean Erwin’s room was except for the pile of laundry on the floor. There were notebooks, papers, and his laptop on his bed. “You can wear whatever one you feel comfortable in.”

“I almost want to force Levi to lend me one of his shirts, but the midget’s clothes would just look like cropped tops on me,” Hange said.

“I heard that,” Levi called from the other room. Erwin closed the door to his room. Hange couldn’t count the amount of preppy polos Erwin had. Almost as if he bought the same shirt in ten different colors. He had some normal solid-color t-shirts, a few band shirts, and graphic tees. Hange felt a ping of excitement when she saw her favorite shirt of Erwins. It was a black Dead by Daylight shirt, with Ghostface from Scream taking a picture of himself and the character he’s killing: Leon from the Resident Evil games. In the back was an original DBD character named Thalita squatting and trying to get her plumped butt in the background. There was an injured Steve from Stranger Things in the background alongside another character Cheryl Mason in her Princess Heart outfit from Silent Hill 3. Hange always gushes over Erwin’s shirt when he wears it. She loved the game, but Erwin never was on at the same time Hange wanted to play. When she walked out, Erwin started shaking his head.

“I should’ve known—”

“All thanks to Levi I get to wear this shirt!”

“Hange, I want that shirt back.”

“But of course!”

“I mean it.”

From the outside of Miche’s house, the three could already hear chatter and music playing. They could tell a lot of people have been drinking and having a good time. Levi opened the door and a table along the entryway had a ton of presents stacked. Some people they recognized were playing the drinking game rage cage and on the other side of the room were some others talking to each other. Miche noticed the three entering and left the rage cage table. 

“You made it!” He said with open arms and a pink-tinted face. 

“Happy birthday, Miche!” Erwin said, handing his gift to Miche.

“Thank you! Thank you! You can just set it on the table.” Hange and Levi set their presents on top of others on the table. “Do you want watermelon margaritas? Nanaba’s making them! Really refreshing.” Miche guided them toward the kitchen. “Or do you want to start off with a shot?!” 

“Only if it’s tequila!” Miche clapped Erwin on the shoulder.

“That’s my man!” He said with a large smile taking up his flushed face. Nanaba greeted the three over the loud music. Then she started blending the margaritas. Miche poured three shots, leaving Levi out who was the designated driver. Miche gave Levi a large solo cup filled with sprite instead. Hange noticed there was another table playing normal beer pong outside and she could only see through the glass doors one side of the table. She saw Christa and Sasha as one of the teams playing. They held their tiny solo cups and Levi's normal size together and told Miche Happy Birthday then they all swallowed their drinks. 

“Nanaba, I’ll take a margarita,” Hange said. 

“Coming right up, ma’am!” Nanaba poured the cold drink into a small plastic cup. Nanaba handed more margarita-filled cups to her friends. Pouring more for anyone who wanted one. She took a sip and noted how dangerous this margarita was because it was delicious.

“Wow Miche you were right! It’s refreshing. Nanaba you’re quite the mixologist!” Hange said.

“Hey look who it is!” Connie and Eren greeted the three. They all hugged and said their hellos. Eren and Connie started catching up with Erwin and Levi when she noticed behind them Sasha and Christa started coming through the door. Behind the two was Armin and a really beautiful girl Hange never had seen before. You. She couldn’t take her eyes off you. Your hair looked perfectly placed, your eyes looked so lovely and your eyebrows were full. Hange found your bored expression intimidating, yet she wanted to see what you looked like when you smiled. She hypothesized that you might be like Levi where you look standoff-ish without a smile on your face. You looked like a healthy and fit girl. Hange would describe your outfit as preppy with a nice-fitting light blue sweater, white pants, a brown belt, and white shoes. You looked very clean. She wouldn’t be able to pull off your outfit. Hange normally wore a ton of long-sleeved polos thanks to her job’s uniform. You were too pretty for her and you were the type to admire from afar and never get a chance with. Hange wanted a chance with a girl like you.

Hange stuck by Levi’s side most of the night talking to familiar people she knew, but she couldn’t help but always glance over to the area of the room where you, Sasha, and Christa chatted. Even when Hange joined a game of rage cage she tried her best to never miss getting the ball in a cup in case you happened to be watching. Since Erwin was next to Hange, he kept having to drink because of Hange playing so well. Dirk, Nanaba, Connie, Armin, Jean, Eren, Mikasa, Miche, and Hange would holler and make a lot of ruckus when Erwin had to drink. It became so entertaining that the rest of the room watched the rest of the game. Erwin ended up getting the bitch cup and everyone was happily chanting, “Drink! Drink!” Even Levi was amused with how Hange managed to get Erwin fucked up. 

“I’m not standing next to Hange in the next game.” Erwin coughed which drew out a burst of laughter from the group.

“Let’s go another round!” Eren said started refilling a small amount of white claw in the solo cups. The group cheered and Erwin sat in a chair next to Levi who was leaning against the wall. 

“Hange are you playing again?” Armin asked and Hange shook her head. 

“I’ll sit this one out.” She scooted Levi over and stood in between him and Erwin. 

“You’re too good, Hange!” Mikasa yelled.

“Anyone that stands next to you is going to get fucked up!” Miche yelled.

“SASHA! GET OVER HERE AND PLAY RAGE CAGE!” Jean yelled. Hange looked in your direction, but Sasha coming toward the front room blocked you from Hange. You and Christa followed, Hange glanced away not wanting to reveal herself staring at you. As if one glance from her could reveal that she’s been watching you all night. 

“That’s too much tequila!”

“The big cup needs more white claws!”

“Add lemonade to not make it so disgusting!”

“The fuck?”

“I’m playing one round and then we’re heading out!” 

“STOP POURING TEQUILA!”

“We could add margaritas!”

“Holy shit the alcohols kicking in!” The room was getting louder and louder and everyone was talking over each other. Another round of the game was going and the excitement started to build again. Erwin was sitting in his chair dazed. Levi was going to have to carry the man back to his place. Hange started to get tipsy, her vision was getting worse causing her to blink so much. 

“Oh my gosh! You play Dead by Daylight?! I love Dead by Daylight!” A sudden loud voice scared Hange causing her to bump into the wall behind her. She became more frightened when she saw you standing too close to her and looking up at her with wide eyes and a huge smile. Your eyebrows raised slightly anticipating Hange’s answer. Hange was tense because of how close you two were. Levi nudged Hange. 

“Uh yeah.”

“I’M OBSESSED! I play nearly every day and I am ADDICTED! But I can’t help it! I typically like to run gen rushing builds, but lately, I’ve been using ‘For the People’ with ‘Buckle Up’. I’m a survivor main! What do you play!?” Hange blinked. She didn’t think she was drunk, but you were talking too fast and she was thinking too slow. Perhaps Hange couldn’t think straight when a straight goddess who apparently plays her favorite game was standing inches from her. 

“Yeah, I play.”

“Do you play survivor or killer more!?” 

“I switch.”

“Tell me who you play when you play survivor or killer!” Erwin laughed at Hange blowing her chance to annoyingly nerd out about Dead by Daylight. Cheering from the rage cage table was in the background for Hange. Hange was lost in your hopeful and glowing eyes, this was her chance to take you all in and she was drowning in your attractiveness. She noticed how the light blue of your sweater enhanced your pretty hair. 

“W-Well—um—I find infinite tombstone Michael Myers fun! But Billy or Wesker is my go-to.” You squealed and shook Hange by her biceps.

“I LOVE GOING AGAINST TOMBSTONE DADDY MYERS! GRAB MY NECK!” Hange became red and not from the alcohol. “Who do you play as a survivor!?!” 

“Kate or Felix, sometimes Steve—wait what’s your name?” You backed away and suddenly had this closed-off demeanor. You held out your hand politely.

“My name’s Y/N,” You said with an inside voice as if you were greeting your boss. Hange shook your hand, noting how soft they were. 

“I’m Hange. Who do you main?” You pointed at a character on Hange’s shirt. Hange’s stomach tightened when you pressed a finger against her. 

“Cheryl with the Princess Heart skin of course! Sometimes I play bunny Feng or Leon.” 

“You look like a person who mains Princess Heart Cheryl.”

“I actually remade the costume for Halloween last year!” You wiped out your phone and Hange suddenly remembered she was in a house at a party. She looked to Levi who gave her a smug expression, which she ignored. Erwin was too drunk and too baffled to actually be processing that Hange was pulling a girl with the t-shirt he lent her. You showed the costume to Hange. Your skirt was so short, but for homemade it looked pretty well done. “I bedazzled the heart myself! It took the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy!”

“Really wow, you look really good.”

“Extended version too.”

“Wow.”

“So you play often?” You asked.

“Yeah, I’d say I’m pretty good at looping.”

“Give me your discord.” You demanded. 

“What?”

“Don’t act like you don’t have discord.” You pushed Hange’s shoulder

“Right, uh I always forget um its—”

“Give me your number then. I like your glasses, by the way, they’re cute.” You thrust your phone into Hange’s space and Levi chuckled. Hange hesitantly took your phone and put her number in, trying not to show she was shaking. She admired how forward you were. Hange was always nervous talking to pretty girls and especially struggled with gorgeous girls like you. “We need to play together!” 

“Yeah, that would be fun.”

“You better message me your discord user when you remember it.” You said walking away from the three. Hange exhaled for the first time in probably a while. She was so tensed from your presence. Hange watched you walk toward Sasha and Christa who were ready to leave. Miche was hugging them and thanking them for coming over. 

“What a dweeb,” Levi said.

“Hey, she's the most gorgeous dweeb I’ve ever met!”

“I’m talking about you four-eyes. Unbelievable how you managed to get a girl’s number because of that stupid video game you play. Not only that you didn’t bite the bullet and ask her to lunch or something.” Levi said and Hange was on a high, replaying what she could remember of the conversation she just had. 

“That’s a dead by daylight perk!” Hange said, referring to when Levi said ‘bite the bullet’. 

“You idiot. Go ask her out to lunch tomorrow or something.” Levi started pushing Hange. “Do it before she leaves.”

“Okay! Okay! You’re strong for being so short!” Hange followed Sasha, Christa and you going out the door. Hange caught the door before it closed. She stepped out into the cold air noting how quiet it was outside compared to the house. “Y/N?” You turned around.

“Are you doing anything tomorrow?” Hange asked, not being able to hide her nervousness. Sasha and Christa turn around watching. You stepped closer to Hange getting too close to her again, which just turned her brain off. 

“No, I’m not . . .”

“Well, I think you’re drop-dead gorgeous and I’d like to get to know you more. Maybe like over lunch tomorrow?” Hange blurted.

“Let’s do it.” You said. “Goodnight, Hange.” You waved and Hange’s heart was beating loudly. She couldn’t believe she scored a date with an extremely cute girl who liked the same game she played. Hange didn’t mind anymore that Levi ruined her shirt with wine. 

masterlist

ALSO PLEASE LMK IF YOU PLAY DEAD BY DAYLIGHT!!

[the-impala-is-my-home]

I saw ur prompt about Wilmon and thought I'd give you the following, bc it feels so them ☺️

20. a third person pointing out how beautiful they're and suddenly you're seeing them in a different light (shalalallalaaa)

Hiii! thank you so much for the prompt! Remember how I said I'd write something pretty short? Well it's at 1.2k words now, so a bit more than I'd originally aimed for but oh well haha

I'll put this on AO3 later, but for now you can also read it under the cut! :)

“Is Simon single?”

Wille barely hears the words over the noise of the party, even though Elias -or maybe his name was Lukas- has leaned in so close that Wille can smell the drink he just ordered on his breath. “What?,” he chuckles and sips on his own drink.

“Simon. Do you know if he’s single?” Lars-or-whatever repeats. “It’s just that he’s like, insanely beautiful, so I thought I’d shoot my shot if he isn’t taken.” At the mention of his best friend, Wille’s eyes shoot up to search Simon in the crowd of people and find him talking to Felice. She must have said something funny, because Simon throws his head back and lets out a laugh that Wille can’t really hear but his imagination gladly fills in the sound from memory.

Ignoring the drink swishing around angrily in his stomach, he turns back to Petter. Maybe he should have just gotten a soft drink instead. “No, I don’t think he’s seeing anyone right now, so uhhh… go ahead I guess.” His voice comes out quieter than he’d intended and he clears his throat. Johann seems to have heard him well enough anyway because he gives Wille a grin and a double thumbs up before disappearing back into the crowd, though curiously into the entirely wrong direction. Well. He’ll probably find Simon at some point. Maybe. Wille doesn’t care either way.

Shaking his head, he grabs his drink and walks into the direction where Simon actually is. He thinks that if Per believes Simon to be ‘insanely beautiful’, he should be better at spotting him in a room full of people. Not that he’s wrong with that description, objectively. Simon is obviously attractive, everyone knows that much. He’s wearing eyeliner tonight as well, Wille realizes as Simon spots him and waves him over. No wonder he caught Noah’s interest, after all the eyeliner frames his eyes in a way that makes it harder to look away from them than it usually is.

“Wille! You have to hear this!”

As Wille leans against the wall next to his friends, Simon and Felice both begin to launch into a retelling of a story, the both of them switching between who is talking so often that Wille gets a bit dizzy with the way he keeps moving his head. When Felice jumps in to clarify a detail that Simon apparently has gotten wrong he doesn’t bother moving his eyes away from Simon again. He’ll probably be the one talking in a few seconds again anyway.

There’s a tiny piece of confetti stuck in Simon’s hair that captures Wille’s attention. It feels like it would be rude to disrupt his friends’ conversation because of something that unimportant but he can’t stop staring at it, pictures himself picking the offending piece of paper out of Simon’s hair. Maybe one of his curls would wrap around Wille’s finger. They’re probably pretty soft, Wille thinks and finds himself wanting to test that theory. He doesn’t though, because who just sticks their hand into their friends hair?

Simon’s eyes crinkle as he giggles. Belatedly, Wille realizes with a stab of guilt that Felice has just finished her retelling and he has no clue at all what she’s been saying for at least two minutes because he’s been busy zoning out and staring at Simon. What is wrong with him? He gives his friends a smile that he hopes looks like the smile of someone who has definitely been listening and then mumbles something about getting another drink. Only after walking into the kitchen does he look at his paper cup to realize it’s still half full and slightly soaked through at the bottom.

He busies himself with looking through all the available drink options someone gathered in this too small kitchen in some flat he’s never been to before that belongs to someone he only barely knows from his literature classes. In the end, he settles on drinking a simple coke, recalling that weird feeling in his stomach earlier.

Simon is dancing when Wille comes back, curls messy, skin painted with purple and blue light and so so beautiful. Wille wants, stumbles a little with the intensity of the sudden certainty. Of course Simon is the most beautiful person in the room, of course Wille can’t keep his eyes off of him, of course Simon is more than a friend to him.

His hand comes up to his chest to rub at the tight sensation there and he turns on the spot to walk to the front door. The fresh October air allows him to relax a bit as he sits down on the stairs. How could he have possibly missed his own feelings for his friend? It all seems so clear in hindsight and Wille can’t help but feel a little stupid for having convinced himself Simon was nothing more than a friend to him.

What is he supposed to do now? Somewhere in there, Simon is probably being asked on a date by Oliver or whatever.

The door behind him opens and he almost gets up to let whoever is leaving the party pass when he glances backwards to see Simon closing the door.

“Hej,” Simon says, shooting Wille a small smile. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just had to get fresh air.” He shuffles with his shoes, fixating on a spot of dirt he notices on the right one. “Did that one guy find you?”

A pause. “Do you mean Jan?”

Ah, so that had been his name. Wille hopes he doesn’t have to remember it. “Did you…” he trails off but Simon seems to understand anyway.

“He asked me for my number.” Simon sits down on the step besides him, resting his arms on his knees. “I didn’t give it to him. He seemed nice and all but…”

“Not your type?”

“No, I guess not.” From the corner of his eye, Wille can tell that Simon is looking at him now. He turns towards him too and thinks that this must be the closest they’ve been all evening. Simon is even more beautiful up close and Wille can’t believe he hasn’t realized this sooner.

“What is your type then?,” Wille hears himself asking even as he knows he should just keep his mouth shut. He doesn’t want to hear Simon talk about a list of traits he’ll never have.

Simon just shrugs, looks at Wille still and Wille doesn’t know what to make of that. When Simon sighs, his breath is visible in the cold evening air and suddenly Wille can’t tear his eyes away from his lips.

“Wille?” Simon’s voice is quiet and unsure and he’s so close. When did they get so close?

“Simon, I…” God, he can smell Simon from here, feels warmth where their knees are pressed up against each other. “You’re beautiful,” he says, like an idiot without a brain to mouth filter.

There’s a sort of desperate noise coming from Simon and suddenly Wille feels a hand on his cheek tugging him forward until they’re kissing. He blanks for a second, his eyes still open and his hands by his side, but when Simon moves backwards, a nervous yet hopeful expression on his face, Wille pulls him back in.

When they both start to shiver and Wille can feel his legs starting to fall asleep, he rises from the step and holds out his hand to Simon.

“Will you come home with me? To talk,” he hurries to add.

“Sure.” Simon lets himself be pulled up. “As long as there are breaks for kissing involved.”

Simon’s grin is bright and beautiful and feels warm on Wille’s lips.

[dracarialove]

📄 Posting my finished fics here, too 📄

Dark Duo

Rouge visits Club Shadow and converses with her partner about a mission. Enter an alternate reality where the bat is stoic and calculated, while the hedgehog is flirty and jewel-motivated.

*Originally published Dec. 2nd, 2023

A pretty white bat stood on the sidewalk in front of red double doors that would soon open into a night club. It was dark out, evening having fallen hours before, and the party going on inside the building sounded like it was in full swing; she could hear sinister electronic music bumping through the walls while red and yellow lights flickered and poured through the tall windows.

She closed her eyes for a moment, scowling and mentally preparing to go inside. Rouge despised crowds, bright light, and loud noises – all things encompassed in one place when she visited her partner-in-crime, Shadow.

His business was bustling, dark rave music assaulting the woman's large ears the second she cracked the door open, then blaring overhead when she crossed the threshold into the lobby filled with people.

Groups of patrons drank and danced too close to the entrance. She would've flown over them, but Shadow had built his ceiling dreadfully low, forcing Rouge to walk near the wall as she went around to the other side, where she would find the stairs.

And, annoyingly, there were people blocking the bottom steps, three of them just standing and slurring their words while they talked. Ivory brows furrowed and she looked up to the open space behind them, offering enough room to jump up and fly through to the second floor.

Knowing Shadow, he would be lounging on a plush purple loveseat with a glass of red wine in one hand. With the other, he would likely be gesturing animatedly while conversing with his customers and lapping up their praise. The bat could see it so clearly in her head even before she got a good look around the second story.

The bar was packed, not a seat left unoccupied, and many of the comfy chairs sitting about were filled with groups of friends chattering away between taking their shot on the billiards table.

As Rouge stepped farther into the lounge area, she listened for her teammate's voice. In a place as packed and darkly lit as this, she would likely hear him before she saw him; and it was true.

Shadow's vibrantly smooth cadence was recognizable beyond the music when the woman got closer to his location. The deep rumble of his tone was amplified when he laughed, and Rouge soon found her confident counterpart through a break in the crowd.

He was indeed sitting on a loveseat, occupying the entire couch with his feet propped up on one side and his back against the other. She'd been wrong about the drink, though.

Tonight, Shadow was drinking something stronger than wine, the liquid in his square glass almost looking black under the wicked lighting, ice cubes clinking as he raised his cup to gesture at Rouge when he spotted her. A fanged grin widened across his muzzle and blood-red eyes locked onto her unwavering gaze.

"Rouge!" he greeted, causing the patrons around him to turn and look at her, too.

The bat's posture stiffened. She didn't appreciate being the center of attention in this setting. "Shadow, can I speak with you alone? It's important.

"Pleasure before business! Sit and chat with us," he insisted, swinging his legs off the loveseat. One gloved hand patted the cushion beside him, beckoning Rouge while dark eyelids lowered in an alluring expression.

But instead of obliging his request, the no-nonsense spy stepped closely enough to talk at a low volume into his ear, cupping one hand beside her muzzle to funnel the sound towards only Shadow.

"I don't want to embarrass you in front of your admirers, but I won't be staying here. I need to talk to you about a mission; if you can spare the time for your job, meet me on the roof within the next ten minutes. Otherwise, I'll assume you don't want in and take the payout for myself."

With that, Rouge turned around and left the way she'd come. A couple of dirty glances were thrown her way as Shadow's adoring patrons thought she was being a bummer and couldn't understand why she wouldn't want to stay. But the hedgehog laughed it off, quickly diverting their attention back to himself and letting his partner skulk off to the roof.

***

Five minutes later, the ivory visitor was joined by her more charming counterpart on the flat gray slate of Club Shadow. Her hands were on her hips and she was gazing up at the sky, teal eyes taking in the sight of the moon hanging above the darkness.

The electric crackle of his Chaos energy drew her attention. Rouge turned to see a few golden sparks dissipating around him as he stepped forward, his skates clunking against the concrete.

"Alright, Rouge, what's the job?" He stopped a few feet away from her and crossed his arms, jutting his hips to one side.

"More trouble in paradise," she answered, and began fiddling with the communicator on her wrist. "You would know if you'd heard the Commander's transmission."

Shadow looked down at the gizmo while she set it to play back the message Tower had given her earlier, remarking, "So I have to be at G.U.N's beck and call now? As if I'm going to wear my communicator every day just in case they summon us."

His partner shot him a glare as the human's voice cut into the air. Interspersed with Rouge's responses, the Commander described a disturbance of attack robots on Emerald Coast, which he believed to be the work of Dr. Eggman.

And after first sending Omega to deal with them – as his desire to destroy Eggman's robots demanded – they found the mechanical minions were being continually deployed from the sky.

Tower wrapped up his briefing, "We believe Sonic will assist soon, as well, but we haven't gotten to assess the full scope of the threat; our men are being deployed as we speak. I want you and Shadow to help contain the threat while we track the airships that are dropping them onto the coast. They cannot be allowed to overrun Station Square."

A staticky version of Rouge's voice answered flatly, "With our strength, that shouldn't be a problem."

Then she stopped the recording and looked at Shadow, her expression deadpan. "If Eggman's behind this, he probably attacked at night thinking that would give him the upper hand in moving inland before his bots could be spotted."

"Hmm." The hedgehog tapped a finger against his lip. "Now, you mentioned taking the payout for yourself, but I didn't hear a reward being offered for this mission."

White brows furled and glossed lips pulled into a frown. "Don't mind my bluff. The reward is stopping Eggman from claiming more land for his empire. Do you want Station Square to end up as a hub for part of his amusement park, or one of his labs?"

"Not necessarily. But you've got this, right? You're strong, Omega's strong, Sonic will be there-"

"Shadow, if G.U.N is asking for both of us, they need both of us. I'm not going to let you neglect your part of keeping the world safe."

A gloved hand reached out and gripped the club owner's arm, pulling him as she began walking to one side of the roof. Shadow grunted and yanked his arm out of the lady's grasp, but continued to walk behind her.

"Ugh, fine. But I will be having a word with Tower about compensation. And don't be surprised if I force you to stay for a lounge on the beach after we clear out those robots!"

"Hmph," Rouge scoffed, pausing at the edge of the roof and holding her hand out to Shadow. "We'll discuss that later if it comes to it. But I make no promises."

A sly smile etched itself onto his face and he firmly grabbed his teammate's hand to be carried on their flight. "Deal."

[angel-0f-verdun]

13 State of Possession

Previous Chapter 

I realized quickly that I was not going to get through this book very fast. So, I decided that I would need to read only the relevant parts of the chapters. I skimmed the index and got to work happily finding the information I was looking for. Set was certainly a rebellious Egyptian God. His original reign was over the desert, storms, disorder, and warfare. I wondered if this was why I enjoyed rain and storms, glancing at the tattoo on my wrist. Later in the New Kingdom Set was considered a maker of discord and strife, identical to my namesake, Eris. Some of the pharaohs even used him in their names, such as Seti I, Seti II, and Setnakht. They thought of him as the protector of Ra, God of the Sun, the creator himself. Ra had gifted Set a dagger, which was in two pieces. One part is a ruby representing everlasting health. The other was obvious to protect Ra. He used this in his many endeavors such as one of the times he killed Apopis the enemy of Ra. Later when the Europeans invaded Egypt Set was an outcast from the pantheon, thus making Set the new and more powerful enemy of Ra. This changed everyone’s view of him, merging him with Apopis. Thus the ruby and dagger took on a different meaning, darkness, which is how he ended up recruiting Ahmanet.

I sighed, knowing this information was not as comforting as I would have thought it to be. But I was glad to have the knowledge, I closed the book and put it back inside my bag. I closed my eyes thinking about the goddess, Eris. She was the child of Zeus and Hera. She mostly just loved mischief, I remembered a story that used to be told to me at the orphanage, she wasn’t invited to a wedding, but she showed up anyway. When at the after party she threw a golden apple with the words ‘for the most beautiful’ into the crowd, Aphrodite, Athena, and Hera all thought it was for them. This caused some issues between the three as Eris had hoped. Paris, the prince of Troy, offered to help them end the argument by being the decision-breaker. Each goddess tried to bribe him, Hera with power, Athena with wisdom, and Aphrodite with the most beautiful woman in the mortal world. Obviously, Aphrodite won. However, the woman she promised him was already married. Her husband wanting revenge for Paris stealing his wife, started a war to get her back. This became known as the Trojan War, which lasted 10 years.

Now for the last to ponder, Ahmanet. Power-hungry, much like Athena, on a quest to get exactly what she wants. She had even killed her family to reach immortality and greatness. But with a few wrong steps with those smarter than her, Set in particular, she let her desires cloud her judgment. She then became all-powerful, but before that transformation could be complete she was captured and mummified alive. Now she needed me to complete that task for Set to live in a mortal body.

“Oh hey, Winston.” Rick’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts about Ahmanet. I looked over my shoulder, seeing him walking towards us with Winston trailing behind him.

“You know O’Connell, ever since the end of the Great War there hasn’t been a single challenge worthy of a man like me.” I heard him babble, he normally gave this speech when he was inebriated.

“Yeah? Well, we all got our little problems today don’t we Winston?” Rick pulled out the chair next to me as he replied, flicking Jon’s ear to get his attention. The only way to shut Winston up was to get him through his memories as quickly as possible. Rick and I were all too familiar with this. He was one of the first people Rick introduced me to when we had first arrived in Egypt. Jon poured Rick a shot as I finished off my drink setting it down on the bar, gesturing for the barkeep to get me another.

“I just wish I could’ve chucked it in with the others and gone down in flame and glory instead of sitting around here rotting of boredom and booze.” Winston finished up his story, patting the boys on the back. He really needed a hobby other than sitting around and drinking. I could visibly see Rick’s annoyance set in. He looked as if he was ready to call it a day but knew there was more to be done.

“Oh well, back to the airfield.” Winston let out a laugh spinning around and leaving us alone.

“Tell me, has your sister always been?” Rick started to ask Jon, shot in hand ready to throw it back. I received my drink, thanking the man and giving him a bill to pay.

“Oh yes always.” He answered Rick’s question before hearing anything else. I started sipping my refill.

“Well we’re all packed up but the damn boat doesn’t leave til tomorrow morning.” Henderson came up beside me and Jon putting his arm on the bar between us leaning towards me. I watched him closely, curious if we really needed to go through this again.

“Tail set firmly between your legs, I see,” Jon replied to him, sarcastically. I mean what really were they supposed to do, they thought they were going to die from opening the chest.

“Yeah you can talk, you don’t have some sacred walking corpse after you.” Henderson breathed out, confirming the fact that he was scared.

“Ah but we do have a thousand-year-old entity with us constantly and she’s a bore,” Jon replied, knowing that Henderson wouldn’t understand what he was getting at but I certainly did.

“Whoa, be careful, I’m doing my best over here to hold her but she’s a force to be reckoned with,” I warned Jon not to make Ahmanet upset, especially when I was continuing to mentally hold her in her place. But for some reason, it was more of a chore than it had been before, I felt a migraine coming on since I walked through the threshold to the bar and it was only getting worse as time went on. The thought of continually keeping her at bay was becoming less and less a reality.

“What’s he getting at?” He asked me flabbergasted at the thought.

“So uh, how’s your friend?” Rick asked Daniels who appeared next to him, both of us ignoring Henderson.

“He had his eyes and his tongue ripped out, how would you be?” He replied sullenly, not in the mood to converse about the pain his friend had gone through. We all spun around in our chairs watching the entrance to the bar, it really was a beautiful modern area for the time. It almost had a Moroccan theme with the fabrics that were hung to look like curtains, filling the space with earthly tones. The tiles that were embedded in the floor were a nice touch as well, lots of blues and whites. This bar was much better than the others I had been in while looking for Rick. There were some men in the corner sharing a hookah pipe passing it around, happily. Oh, to have no cares in the world right now.  

“Good luck boys.” The four of them clinked their shot glasses together and I with my gin and tonic. We drank to their luck and health getting away from Egypt still intact. Immediately when the drink hit my tastebuds I spat the liquid back out.

“Sweet Jesus tastes just like…” Henderson started.

“Blood.” Rick and I finished his thought, Rick dropping his glass on the floor as he looked at the fountain.

“And the rivers and waters of Egypt ran red and were as blood” Jon quoted the Bible.

“He’s here,” Rick whispered out and took off running in the opposite direction. I took off after him grabbing my bag.

“Rick, wait!!” I called after him, as I realized where he was going.

“Oh Evelyn…” He called her name in a sing-song voice, slowing down upon approaching her so he wouldn’t bulldoze her.

“Oh, so you’re still here?” She asked him, there was some tension here that I wanted no part in deciphering.

“We’ve got problems.” He told her just as a clap of thunder shook the complex. The rain started pouring and I felt queasy, staggering, attempting to get my balance back. I knew that this was no doubt what I had been feeling earlier with the migraine. It felt as if the world was on my shoulders and I couldn’t keep standing anymore.  Neither my brother nor my friend noticed the issue I was dealing with, which I was thankful for. Ahmanet took over as I felt my consciousness fade as I gave into the pressure.

“You are getting weaker, as he rises,” Ahmanet spoke to me in the confines of my mind.

“What do I do?” I asked her, sitting on the ground in an all-black room with no reference as to what was going on outside my head, no reference to my body.

“There’s nothing you can do. Unless…”  I groaned out feeling pain all over, just like when the tattoos appeared.

“Unless what?!” I yelled, hearing my voice echo around the area. I was prepared to do anything at this point to get control back.

“You’re too weak to continue on your own. I am the only reason you are still consciously here, in this place. It was my choice to keep you alive. I could have tucked you away you forever when you fainted.” She told me.

“But you also need me,” I told her skeptically feeling even more faint than I did before.

“Beauty and brains. But this, you will not win.” She laughed as my consciousness faded away for the second time, I relaxed into it accepting my fate. 

***

“Eris!! Wake up!!” I heard his tortured screams as he attempted to wake me. Ahmanet allowed me a glance through a window. Rick was being slashed up by the dagger of Set. This was yet the third time he had been in mortal danger in this entire excursion and I doubted it would be the last. I watched as the curved blade barely touched his skin but ripped through him like razor wire. 

“You talk of bravery like a Medjai, yet you are still mortal, how do you forget this?” Ahmanet questioned him in broken English. Evy was cowering in the corner as the mummy turned to face her attempting to kiss her.

“Rick!!” I yelled to him trapped in my mind, my voice echoed off the walls, bouncing back to my eardrums. I crumpled from where I stood, the pain erupting in my ears and brain. I tried to push forward into the forefront of my mind but Ahmanet’s hold was too strong, she was growing stronger from the darkness and the plagues that were reigning on the world. I watched as she fought with my brother, she had maneuvered him onto the ground, straddling him. She reared up the dagger in my hands, ruby glinting in the fire-born sky ready to plunge it directly into his chest. A cat strode across piano keys directing everyone’s attention to it, the mummy stopped in his tracks and disappeared into a cloud of sand. Jon and the Americans pulled me off of Rick and secured my hands behind my back. 

“We are in very serious trouble,” Rick said to everyone wiping away the blood that had been drawn.

“Let’s get her to the museum,” Evy murmured quietly as she tended to Rick’s wounds. We walked outside and to Jonathan’s car, piling in. It was an expeditious drive for Jonathan to get us there as quickly as possible as they now knew Ahmanet’s true strength. The Americans dragged me from the car and led me by my arms, following Evy’s instructions. 

“He does seem to like Evy.” I heard Jon say from behind me. Henderson was holding my wrists guiding me where I needed to be. 

“Yeah, what’s that about?” Rick asked, I could hear the curiosity in his voice intertwined with anger.

“There’s only one person I know that can give us any answers.” She spoke confidently as she rounded the corner to the Old Kingdom display heading towards the curator's office.

“You?!” Evy exclaimed stopping in her tracks. 

“Miss Carnahan, gentleman… Eris? What’s happened?” I heard Dr. Bey ask as he noticed I was a fugitive. 

“What is he doing here?” Evy asked him not answering his question. I hoped we would get to my situation as soon as possible because it was not fun being a captive in my own head and in real life. Henderson pulled his gun from his holster following Rick’s lead as everyone was tense from the fight with the mummy.

“Do you really want to know, or would you prefer to just shoot us?” Dr. Bey asked rather annoyed that he had guns pointing at him and Ardeth. 

“After what I just saw, I’m willing to go on a little faith,” Rick said as he stepped aside for the two men to view me. 

“Richard, what have you done to your sister?” Dr. Bey asked in a serious tone as he came up to me inspecting my eyes.

“Ardeth, you’d better take a look at this.” He breathed out, stepping away from me with fear in his eyes. I thrashed against Henderson, trying to get free of my bonds. I hissed at Ardeth as the Medjai walked up to me. He grabbed my chin holding me still to take a look at my eyes. 

“Ahmanet.” He breathed out.

“Ah a real Medjai, let’s see what you’re made of,” I heard Ahmanet speak in Egyptian this time. 

“Take her around the corner to her office.” He instructed Henderson. He nodded and moved me towards the walkway, Rick went to follow but Ardeth stopped him before he could go much further.

“I’ll do my best to get her back, but I must do it alone.” He said to him. Rick nodded and backed away with Henderson as Ardeth took my arm in his, his touch burned my skin I felt Ahmanet waning away from control. We walked towards my office, he pushed the door open and set me in the chair. 

“Eris, I’m going to recite a series of prayers. We’re going to try to reduce Ahmanet’s power over your body, at least enough so you can have control again.” He told me, a guttural growl escaped from my throat as Ahmanet did not enjoy what she was hearing. 

“Mother of the gods, the One, the Only, Mistress of the Crowns. Bast, beloved daughter of the sun, send us comfort. Envelope Eris with you. Expel all evil forces from her. Destroy and banish all witchcraft, bonds, and curses. Take away everything that could harm her.” Ardeth recited a prayer to Bast in Arabic. I could feel Ahmanet shrinking from consciousness. As she weakened I pushed forward back into my own body. I sucked in the air, it felt pure. I felt like me again. I couldn’t feel Ahmanet anywhere inside, it was like she had vanished. 

“Are you alright?” I heard Ardeth ask me as he bent down toward my face. I nodded not willing to speak. He turned me around and cut the bonds on my wrists letting me go free. 

“Aren’t you worried she’ll be back?” I asked him. He considered the question for a bit but did not give me an answer instead he wrapped his arms around me in a hug. I felt safe, smelling the lotus and vanilla that seemed to hang over him. His chin resting on the top of my head he breathed out letting go of his inhibitions. He pulled away much too fast for my liking, holding me at arm's length just staring into my eyes. He leaned forward placing a light kiss on my forehead. I soaked in the moment before he rushed out the door to inform Rick that everything was alright. I sat back in my chair staring into oblivion not wanting to even glance at the mirror to my right. I didn’t want to know if she was still there. 

Next Chapter

[modern-day-bard]

Worth The Feeling

Content Warning: 18+ This series contains explicit smut, intimidation, and an age gap relationship. Minors, do not interact.

Chapter 25

If there was any part of me that was hesitant about the new dress, that part had been incinerated as soon as I saw those tabloid photos. And walking up to the party now, I clearly wasn't the only one to have dressed to impress. There were other party-goers dressed in sequins, short dresses, suede suits, heels, heavy makeup, and hair that looked as though it was done professionally. I really did pull out all the stops tonight, too. I smoothed my hair, letting it tumble over my shoulders. I did my best attempt at a smokey eye and made sure my lips were plumped with gloss to match the shimmer of my dress. Courtesy of Mia, I had borrowed a sparkly clutch just large enough to hold my phone and some lip gloss. I even brought out one of my only pairs of heels for the occasion, black and strappy to match the rest of the ensemble. Thankfully, they were much easier to walk in than I remember.

Norwick had chosen the Warwick club for our wrap party. I originally thought that it was purely because of how it sounded to say "Norwick at Warwick," however, walking inside...I think the wordplay was just a bonus. It is hard to know where to look first. Giant crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, one placed roughly every ten feet along the rafters. The lights were all dimmed, most of the light coming from small, lavender-colored bulbs somewhere high above, the disco balls near the dance floor reflecting it back out. My attention is torn toward the bar, but quickly then to the wall next to it that had a floor to ceiling photo of a naked model, seemingly looking over the crowded room. Behind the bar, there was another room that looked a bit less crowded. Knowing Dwayne, I assume that would be a good place to start if I want to drop off his gift first.

I round the corner behind the bar, taking in the ambient lighting. This room was less crowded, and the thumping music was a bit more drowned out, making it easier to hear conversation. The spacious room has two fireplaces and a handful of cushioned chairs, complete with some barstools that sat along the second, smaller bar in the corner. Sure enough, I find Dwayne leaning against the bar, chatting with the bartender. His attention turns to me and he waves me over. I give him a quick hug, which I had only ever done at wrap parties before. The stress and stuffiness of the film is over with, and it feels like we can all take a collective sigh of relief.

"Happy wrap party," I say, handing over the black and silver gift bag in my hand. I pause as he opens the gift. I ended up going with an Italian candle and a blank clapperboard.

"I figured you didn't get to enjoy a nice Italian vacation, so you can recreate one during hiatus. Also, I realize that this promotion for me also means a promotion for you. You can fill out the clapperboard for your first film as an assistant director."

Dwayne smiles, smelling the candle. "That was very thoughtful of you, Ava. Let me buy you a drink," He winks, and I realize quickly that it is an open bar.

I laugh. "That would be great," I'm tempted to buy a shot, but I settle for a martini instead. The bartender takes my order and Dwayne continues while my drink is being made.

"It's exciting, this next chapter," He has a far off look in his eye. I hadn't taken a moment before I bought the clapperboard to wonder how long Dwayne had wanted this promotion. How young was he when he first dreamed of working in film, and all the steps it took to get to this moment. "I like working with you kids, don't get me wrong. But I'd like to have a say in the direction, not just the logistics."

I nod, understanding completely. "We'll miss you."

"I'll still be on set," He deadpans.

"Well I should hope! I'm still going to have some questions that only a former Key-PA can answer."

Dwayne smiles again, "Happy to help." My drink arrives on the counter, and I raise my glass to him.

"To the next chapter," I say with a chipper smile. He begrudgingly clinks his scotch glass against mine, and I take an eager sip. "Speaking of, when do you want to meet about the remaining logistics stuff I need to learn?"

Dwayne shrugs, "I'll email you. Enjoy tonight though, Ava. We've all earned it." I take the hint, smiling and raising my glass again as I exit the room, filing out with a few others back into the giant main hall. I take several gulps of my martini, now that I'm out of sight of Dwayne. It's not exactly a gulping sort of drink, so by the time I'm situated near one of the couches in the main room, I get in line for the large bar on the far end to get another drink. After ordering another, double, martini, I pull out my phone to text Lana and Mia. They live on the other side of town, so I knew we wouldn't be car pooling. But the place is already packed to the brim, so they have to be in here somewhere. My finger hovers briefly over Javi's name, but I know better than to text him in public. I'm not sure what my name is in his phone, and it just felt too risky depending on what popped up. He was listed just as "J" in mine, just in case. He had texted me before I left.

Javi: Looking forward to seeing you tonight ;)

I smile to myself, reading it again. A familiar squeal breaks through the music, prompting me to look up and see Mia pushing through the crowd toward me, Lana right behind her, smiling wide. They embrace me tightly, though we had just seen each other hours before. Mia starts jumping up and down, still holding both of us. Clearly they had been here long enough to have a few drinks, and clearly my first martini was already kicking in because I start jumping along with her.

"How did Dwayne like the gift?" Lana asks over the noise.

"He cracked not one, but two whole smiles!" I hold up my fingers. "So I think he loved it."

"Woo!" Lana took a sip of her drink. "We should probably be dancing, and you should probably make a little progress on that." She gestured to my nearly full glass. I didn't bother telling her it was a double as I nod, taking a long swig.

"Attagirl!" Mia grabs my hand, pulling me towards the dance floor on the other end of the room. I glance around for familiar faces, and I see a few that I don't know as well, but for the most part it's hard to recognize anyone. I suppose most of us received plus ones, though I had opted not to bring anyone else. The only one I would want with me was already going to be there. The darkness, drinks, and noise dampen my senses as I stop scanning, choosing to focus my attention on reaching the checkered dance floor. It's crowded, and besides a few of the sound engineers that Lana greets, I can't make out people I know super well.

Mia spins me in a circle, making me laugh. I can tell most people around me are yelling the words to the song emanating from the speakers, so I do the same. Taking a few more sips of my drink, I slowly loosen up. Even though this project has been chaotic and unlike anything I've dealt with before, I'm only thinking about the positives right now. I think about our trip, minus the fainting spell, as well as my promotion, Javi, and how happy I am to have the two friends dancing around me. The more I think, the more my hips start to swing, and I close my eyes for several moments just to drink in how lucky I feel right now.

Lana creates a train of sorts with Mia and me, so that the three of us are dancing in a line. She moves us through the dance floor, even deeper into the club than we already were. I'm rocking back and forth when I see long, tanned legs in a short, long-sleeved pink dress. Emma's beautiful long blonde hair sways back and forth as she moves, and she occasionally speaks to a shorter man next to her. I realize through the flashing lights that he's holding a camera. That must be the guy who took the face paparazzi shots, the same ones I saw this morning at the mall. I turn toward the girls.

"Be back in a minute," I shout over the music.

They just nod, turning to dance with each other as I walk away.

"Ms. Madden!" I say enthusiastically as I approach her.

She smiles brightly when she sees me. "Hi, Anna!" She gives me a brisk hug and I feel a small pang of guilt. I never blamed her or Javi, but she was the face of my distress in a way. But she was always polite. She even remembered the name that she incorrectly called me.

"How are you?" I ask.

"Good, good. I'm glad it all went so well. Though I will be happier when this whole stunt is over with, too. No offense, Glen." She wiggles her hand to the man next to her.

Glen didn't even look up from his camera, he just nodded along.

"Honestly," she leans forward so that she doesn't have to shout so loud, "I just need Javi to finally get here so we can take a few pictures and I can get the hell out of here. I'm leaving for Cabo tonight."

"Cabo! That's exciting."

"Who's going to Cabo?" A familiar, smooth voice says behind me. I turn around coming face to chest with Javi. I look up through my lashes, smirking slightly when his jaw goes slack. His eyes do a quick once-over of my outfit before he clears his throat.

"Me! Once we can get our pictures and get out of here." Emma sings.

Javi places a light hand on my back so he can shift around me to Emma. Just before he lets go, he lets it drop lower for a moment. I hope no one can see my shiver. Having so much of my skin exposed made his calloused hands feel even more thrilling. As Glen says hello to Javi, I don't miss how his eyes scan my body, spending too much time on my legs before holding my gaze without a hint of shame.

"Well, have fun. It was good to see you, Emma."

She smiles at me despite my informal phrasing. I will probably never see her again, so I figure I can get away with calling her by her first name.

"You too, Anna." She moves to put her arm around Javi, as Glen is clearly setting up the shot.

"Mr. Gutierrez," I say, "Good to see you, too."

"Ava," Was all he says, his eyes darkening by the minute.

I turn to walk away, making a show of swing my hips to the music as I do so. Before I'm completely out of earshot, I hear Emma ask him, "Wait, it's Ava?"

When I'm back with my friends, I let go. I move my free hand through my hair, dancing around Lana and Mia in time with the beat. Whenever I get the chance, I peer over toward Javi and Emma's side of the dance floor. Javi has his hands on Emma's hips, holding her from behind as she laughs again and again, though Javi hasn't spoken from what I can see. In fact, he keeps looking at me while Glen takes more photos. Glen even takes out his phone to get some shots that I'm sure they'll say were taken by other party goers. I hold Javi's gaze as I grind my hips in a circle, down my drink at the same time. I turn so my back is to him, looking at him as long as possible. Then I run my hands down my body, bending my knees and moving side to side. I know as I arch my back on the way up that the hem of my dress is just barely covering my behind, and almost all of my back is exposed to him. I smirk to myself, hoping that this silly show of mine is doing its trick.

Lana, Mia, and I dance for a few more songs before we're all out of breath. We leave the dance floor to get more drinks. I'm fanning myself in line when I decide to check my phone.

Javi: I don't want to ruin your fun, but do you think you could meet me for a few minutes? I have a wrap gift for you.

He'd only sent the text about five minutes ago. I look around, but he's nowhere in sight. He must still be on the dance floor.

Me: I think I can arrange that. Where?

It only takes him a few seconds to respond.

Javi: The VIP room. As fast as those heels can take you.

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

[janatm]

1, 2, 3, not only you & me || THROUPLE

tagging: Morgan Weston, Eva Anderson and Noah Puckerman

date & time: Friday, August 9, 2024 after 9 pm

location: A local bar & Eva's condo

warnings: none!

summary: Originally posted by Shae - Two hot people enter the bar with technically the same birthday present for the birthday boy, so they decide to turn it into a threesome. There’s no smut under here, we decided to fade to black because writing a threesome is too much work for us but pretend this is the steamiest sex of your life under this read more anyways.

word count: 4,275

MORGAN WESTON

“Delta Dawn, what’s that flower you have on? Could it be a faded rose from days gone by?” The infamous Tanya Tucker song blared out through the speakers. The sober people in the room probably wished that it was actually the Tanya Tucker version that was being belted out, but alas, it was not. Instead, it was some drunk lady, with a bottle of Budweiser - king of beers, after all - in one hand, and a microphone in the other, misreading the words on the screen, from the karaoke software. Morgan laughed to himself. Of course Puck would be celebrating his birthday at a bar with karaoke. A variety of songs had made sure the party was going strong, and “Delta Dawn” was no exception. 

People cheered for the drunk lady - they were probably also drunk - and Morgan took a swig of his own beer and looked around, spotting a seemingly happy birthday boy. Puck and him hadn’t seen much of each other since the day they slept together, but that didn’t mean that Morgan was upset, by any means. It just meant that there was more catching up to do. Heading towards him, the tall cowboy took several long strides, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw a group of people instantly swarming him with birthday wishes. Morgan took another sip of his beer, and thought about what to do. He was in the middle of the room, and he looked pretty awkward, he figured. So instead, he tried to spot a way out of the situation. And there she was. He could spot her from a thousand miles away, he was sure of it. “Ms Anderson,” Morgan greeted her, in their silly little way, as he walked up to her, with a smirk on his bearded face. “Are ya here for Puck’s birthday too?”

EVA ANDERSON 

Eva hated karaoke, even more so while she was sober and her vision was 100% clear as day. Maybe it stemmed from having a musically inclined family, but hearing people who were tone deaf attempting to belt out songs she probably didn’t know or hated was the worst kind of torture. She was only here for Puck, and that was the only thing that had guided her feet into this godforsaken place and right over to the bar. She’d even tipped the bartender a few extra bills to send a tray of shots over to Puck while she was being served bottomless Dirty Martinis — extra dirty in terms of less juice and more gin. As soon as he started putting them down in front of her, she was tossing them back before he could even start working on the next one. 

The crowd around Puck wasn’t a surprise since he was so damn popular these days, and she didn’t mind having to busy herself with some other people she knew, or had exchanged a few posts with online before finally meeting in person. Everyone seemed to be keeping the convos light while they sipped on their own alcohol, so it was decent enough company until she felt the need to push her way through the crowd to get to the birthday boy. Luckily that issue was pushed aside when she saw Morgan coming her way, and she couldn’t have contained the glowing look on her face even if she’d wanted to (which she obviously didn’t). “Hi, Mr. Weston.” Eva beamed. God, she needed to unpack why she could turn into a bit of a puddle around only two attractive, tall ass men, but tonight wasn’t the night to analyze that shit. “I am, but I didn’t know you and Puck knew one another too.” She hummed. “I’m surprised to see you at a packed bar, but I’m also jealous that Puck is apparently special enough to make this happen.” She stated and frowned. “How do you two know each other?”

MORGAN WESTON

The way Eva looked tonight - ‘oh, to hell with it’, Morgan thought, 'the way Eva looked all the time’ was enough to turn even the worst of days into the best ones, for the tall man. And then, her reaction to him, the way she greeted him, the tone of her voice with that smile mixed in, had him weak in the knees and stumbling, as he tried to casually lean against the big bar. If she asked, he’d blame it on the alcohol, and the amount of beers he’d had tonight. Grinning back at her, he took the last sip of his beer, before putting the bottle on the bar, and signaling to the bartender to get him another one, as well as another of whatever Eva was drinking. 

Morgan leaned in so he wouldn’t have to shout over the drunk karaoke lady, the height difference between them more apparent than ever when he did so. “We met at the mixer - like you and I,” He started the story, and maybe it was because he was a little tipsy, but he felt confident in himself. “We kinda hit it off right away. He came over once. Y'know…” The bartender came around with the drinks, and Morgan took another sip of his beer, turning to look at the guy everyone had come here for. “He’s a good-looking man, Puck is.” He turned back to look at the girl that kept enchanting him with her ways of just being. Morgan was hoping that she was good at reading in between the lines of what he was saying, so that he didn’t have to flat out say 'we fucked’, because what kind of southern gentleman would do that? “Eva, have ya ever heard the song 'Cowboys Are Frequently Secretly Fond Of Each Other’?”

EVA ANDERSON

If there was always one thing Eva could depend on when it came to Morgan, it was probably his ability to always look at her and make her feel like she was the most beautiful woman in the world. She was in the top three for sure, that much she knew, yet that gleam in his eye certainly felt like she was in the number one spot. It also helped that she seemed to leave him just as flushed, which wasn’t a rare occurrence for her to get that response in return, it was just foreign for it to be mutual. She bit her lip as he leaned in closer, already spiraling from the close proximity. Had it not been for the cheers around the bar for that horrible performance on stage, she might have completely forgotten the real reason why she was here and made a move on the man right there at the bar. 

She hadn’t been anticipating much for Morgan and Puck’s first meeting aside from some little meet cute where two tall, hot men probably made jokes about being the tallest in the room or some other masculine thing men do when they met other dudes, so her jaw was damn near on the floor as she followed along with where this story was going. Morgan didn’t even have to spell it out himself as the song did just that, and she nodded her head slowly. “The gay cowboy song.” She stated once her jaw was back intact. How her gaydar had missed this, she’d never know. “Wait — are you here to give Puck another round as a birthday present?” Eva questioned, and as soon as the words left her mouth, a light bulb went off in her head. “If you are, I was about to tell you that you’ll have to get in line behind me…but there’s three attractive bisexuals here, one birthday boy, and we’re giving him similar birthday presents, so…” Her words trailed off there as she smirked up at the cowboy, figuring he’d catch where she was going with this.

NOAH PUCKERMAN

Today had been a fucking awesome day and unlike most people, Puck actually liked karaoke. Yeah it was loud and most people couldn’t sing, but the vibes were always right and the energy was always good. It was fun and people were drunk and celebrating him, so as far as the now thirty-two year old was concerned, there was no better way to end his birthday. Originally he wasn’t going to drink too much, but people were being so generous and sending rounds of shots and it would be rude not to slam back at least one, maybe two. By the time he noticed Eva at the bar, he was being dragged up to the stage for a group number and he only agreed because it was a classic. Montell Jordan’s, This Is How We Do It. At some point, he noticed Eva wasn’t alone and he almost hopped off the stage when he realized who she was talking to, but whoever was next to him, grabbed his shirt to pull him back.

By the last thirty seconds, Puck was so distracted by how fucking hot Eva and Morgan looked, he wasn’t even anywhere near a mic and he was just clapping to the beat. When the song finally ended, the birthday boy made his way down to the two people he had been the most interested in seeing tonight. As he approached he saw an energy between them and was way too tipsy and warm to figure out what it was. Finding his way through the rest of the crowd, he smiled as he came to stand between the two. His attention on Eva first, “God damn, you look good.” Not that she didn’t always look good, leaning down, he put an arm around her waist as he gave her a kiss on the cheek and thanked her for coming. Turning to Morgan he pulled him in for a hug, his hand cupping his beard covered jaw as he pulled away. “I’m fucking honored you came man, I know it’s not your scene.” Letting his hand linger a little longer before backing up completely, he looked between them. “Were y'all talking about anything interesting?”

MORGAN WESTON

Morgan watched as the realization washed over Eva’s face, almost in slow-motion. The way her jaw dropped, it was like he could see when it sank in, and she understood what had happened between Puck and Morgan. It was almost amusing, and he couldn’t help but smirk a little bit - he was kind of proud of that conquest. What he just hadn’t realized, was that Eva had been there and done that too. It was almost as if Eva’s realization about Puck and Morgan was transferred to Morgan. The tape rewound, and instead of it washing over Eva’s face, it washed over Morgan’s. 

“Are you- the two of you- together, you have-” Morgan stumbled over his words for a bit. 'God, that was so hot,’ he thought to himself, and bit down on his bottom lip. As Eva kept going, putting suggestions out on the table, Morgan nodded along slowly, as he understood and picked up what she was putting down. “I think I underst-” Before he could finish that sentence, he was interrupted by the man in focus today, Puck himself, and he watched as he greeted Eva, knowing - and picturing what had gone down between them, in his head. He greeted Puck back with a soft smile, and a gentle 'happy birthday’, before turning to look at Eva, the smile slowly turning into a wicked smirk. “Just 'bout your birthday present, man.” He said, his gaze shifting focus to read his face and his reactions. “We think you’re really gonna like it.”

EVA ANDERSON 

Eva grinned at Morgan being tongue tied as he tried to understand what her deal with Puck was. Not that there was even a label for it yet. Maybe friends with benefits, though they hadn’t even gotten too deep into the friends thing yet. Same with her and Morgan sort of, so really, she was in a great place with them both for her little idea to spawn into something. And Puck sliding in between them only heightened her interest in this arrangement. Smirking at his compliment, she leaned into the kiss to her cheek. “Thanks, birthday boy.” She beamed. Wearing the short, tight-fitting dress had obviously been for Puck’s enjoyment and it had worked, but for both of her boys. 

She let Morgan greet Puck as well before he answered the question, clearly on board with her little idea. It made perfect sense really, and with two out of three of them consenting, she didn’t think it would be hard to get Puck to do the same. “Considering how many shots I sent you, Puckerman, I’m sure your mind’s a little foggy so let me just spell it out for you: Mr. Weston and I were thinking that the three of us should take this party somewhere more…private. We can go back to your place if the kid is gone, but if not, my condo is like fifteen minutes away from here.” Eva shrugged.

NOAH PUCKERMAN

Standing there, mouth agape, Puck was going over Eva’s words in his head, thinking he must have misheard. There was no way she was suggesting what he thought she was suggesting. What apparently both Eva and Morgan were suggesting. It’s something he’d thought about, I mean, you would too if you had the pleasure of experiencing them both separately. They were also two of the hottest people he’d ever seen and standing between them like this, drunk and vulnerable, he felt safe. Looking at them both, Puck really shouldn’t have been so surprised. Why else would he have invited them both here knowing he’d want to go home with one equally as much as the other. What was the plan, if not this?

“She’s not home but fifteen minutes is closer.” Puck finally responded because he wasn’t about to question shit and give any of them time to reconsider. It was his 32nd birthday and something told him this was going to be the threesome of his dreams. Especially since it was now obvious that Eva and Morgan clearly had something. Even if he was just a bit of fun on their way to falling in love, he would take it. “I’m ready when you guys are.”

MORGAN WESTON

What the hell was happening? This was not something that the cowboy would’ve done back in Montana. He had sex, obviously, but it was never with two people at once. He was too quiet for that stuff! He didn’t know what it was; maybe it was the alcohol circulating his system, or maybe it was LA, having him come out of his shell? Or maybe, it was the fact that he had two insanely hot people, who were feeling the same attractiveness, and the same yearning to be with him, the way that he did for them. They both turned him on so much, in two different ways, and having the opportunity to now mash that together, and have them at the same time was blowing Morgan’s mind completely.

He motioned to the bartender that he’d pay for all three tabs, the moment that Puck’s words left some sort of confirmation to the group. And while the bartender was ringing it all up, Morgan whipped his phone out, leaving no time at all to do something that he’d only recently learnt how to do; order an uber to take them to Eva’s condo. He ordered, paid, and shifted to put his hand on Puck’s ass, moving in to whisper in his ear, “happy birthday, man,” his breath warm, and his eyes catching the same darkness in Eva’s eyes, as he knew he was feeling inside of himself. His phone vibrated in his hand, and his heart jumped once at the excitement getting closer. “Our ride is here, let’s go.”

EVA ANDERSON 

The way Puck’s jaw dropped when the realization hit told Eva everything she needed to know about what his answer would be, as if he could have gone another route even if he’d wanted to. It wasn’t every day that this sort of offer was laid out on the table, and even she had yet to partake in this sort of threesome, which was quite the shock to her own system. Being the only female in a threesome had never been propositioned before but now that it was, she was desperate for them to make it happen. Once they received a verbal confirmation from Puck, she smirked in response. “Thank god.” She stated, exhaling a small breath she hadn’t even known she was holding. The quicker they got somewhere else, the better. 

Morgan jumping right into action and taking care of literally everything was hot as hell, and truthfully, Eva didn’t know how she was expected to survive this night when both men were this fucking insatiable. Even just staring at them together was driving her wild, and it felt like it took much longer than it had before Morgan was announcing that their ride was here. “Fucking finally.” She groaned, grabbing both of their hands and damn near yanking them out of the bar. Luckily the car was waiting right out front, so she led them over and opened up the back door, climbing inside first. “Let’s go, boys!” She beamed before she made sure the driver had her address, needing them to get there as quickly as this damn car could possibly go.

NOAH PUCKERMAN

Everything was moving so fast, Puck’s drunk mind was processing even slower than usual. It however did register Morgan’s hand on his ass, which lowkey kinda hand him wanting to kick his feet and giggle. When Eva grabbed his hand to get in their uber, Puck managed to register that too. Nervous and excited, Puck wasn’t sure what the other two’s experience with threesome’s was but Puck has attempted several and only two have been, what he’d call, successful. Watching as Eva got in, he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t gotten slightly distracted by her in the tight ass dress, but he quickly came back to reality, and this was his reality somehow. Getting in next, he found himself holding Morgan’s hand to make sure he squeezed his tall ass in the back with them so he could keep a hand on each of them for the ride.

Putting a hand on Eva’s thigh, he looked at her and smiled as she gave the driver her address. Already he felt like tonight was going to be a good night. It didn’t feel forced or like he was just determined to make a fantasy come true. He’d also never been in this particular setup and had it go well, usually the other dude just wasn’t really up for the Devil’s Threesome, but he already knew that wouldn’t be an issue with Morgan. He also knew there was sexual chemistry between him and Morgan and him and Eva and if the looks those two have been sharing with each other are any indication, Eva and Morgan were no strangers to each other. With those thoughts in his head, he really needed the driver to move a hell of a lot faster.

MORGAN WESTON

Morgan chuckled to himself as Eva grabbed their hands, rushing out past the crowd that had only come for one of the boys that was now leaving. Morgan would’ve thought it all through, had he been sober, and maybe even felt a little bad about taking him away from his own party, but he was damn attracted to these two people, there was no way his drunk self was going to pass up the opportunity to have them both, in one night. As they reached the car, Morgan followed Puck’s gaze, his eyes landing on Eva’s ass as she got into the backseat, and it only encouraged his excitement to grow. She was so hot. 

Maybe he blacked out or something, but all of a sudden, Morgan found himself in the back of the car, with the other two. A gentle hand was resting on Puck’s thigh, and he couldn’t help himself when he leaned in, planting his lips just under the man’s earlobe. He kept going down his neck, slowly and softly, as his hand trailed up the birthday boy’s thigh, getting dangerously close to his crotch. “You smell so good,” he murmured against Puck’s jaw, and was completely lost in time, having no clue where they were. But time felt like it had gone by so fast, because all of a sudden, the car stopped, and they’d arrived at Eva’s address. “Thanks Mr. Driver, have a good night!” Morgan said, and climbed out of the car. “C'mon y'all!” He almost ran up to the building, dragging the two others with him, as he grinned, the excitement of what was about to go down taking over every sense in his tall body.

EVA ANDERSON

With the anticipation clearly growing in all three of them, the drive to her place felt like it lasted much longer than it should have, yet in reality, it hadn’t at all. As soon as they arrived and Morgan hopped out and pushed them to do the same, Eva giggled as she pushed Puck out and then let the cowboy lead the way up to her door. She managed to swiftly unlock the front door and shoved it open as she practically ran inside. “Mi casa es su casa…or whatever.” She stated and giggled, kicking her heels off right in the doorway. She’d never had two men of their statures in her bed at the same time, but she was sure that the California king would fit all three of them and the positions they were about to get themselves into. 

“I’d ask if either of you need anything to drink, but..we can worry about that kind of thirst later.” She hummed as she led them back to her bedroom. “Master bathroom is next door, in case one of you needs it now.” She hummed. Luckily her bedroom wasn’t a mess and her bed wasn’t covered in clothes she’d tossed out from her closet while trying to get ready for the bar, so they were essentially ready to get right down to business. And before either one of them could change their mind (not that she expected them to), Eva turned her back to her boys. “Will one of you unzip me?” She asked, and boy was she thankful that she’d chosen not to wear a bra or panties under this dress tonight since that would’ve just been fabric for the men to have to get her out of.

NOAH PUCKERMAN

As he felt Morgan’s hand on his thigh and his lips against his neck, Puck let his hand creep up Eva’s thigh and suddenly the car ride that was taking forever, ended and in the blink of an eye he was in Eva’s place, with her standing in front of them asking to be undressed. Like a light switch, Puck looked at Morgan before taking his hand and walking the few steps until they were just behind her. Figuring, as the birthday boy, he deserved the honor, Puck unzipped the dress, quickly noticing a lack of bra. Smiling, he turned Eva around, so she was facing the two men before Puck moved the straps so the dress could fall to the floor. God, she was perfect. A part of him felt like he should be working on getting himself or Morgan undressed too but all he could do was appreciate the true beauty in front of him.

MORGAN WESTON

A sober part of Morgan wished he could have tried this with Eva alone, before getting involved in a threesome with her. The way he knew what made Puck moan a little bit louder, or grab him a little tighter, or what would send him over the edge, he had no idea what he could do, to get the same reaction out of Eva. But Morgan wasn’t about to pass on this opportunity; he’d be a damn fool to! He got to have the most attractive people walking on this earth! So instead, his drunk senses would have to sober up, so he could feel his way through all of it, and be the best experience they’d both ever had, wanting to be even better than the last time with the birthday boy! Morgan watched as Puck started unzipping Eva’s dress, holding his breath for a second, but then remembering that the two men still had so much clothes on! So he moved in to unbutton Puck’s pants, while maintaining deep and focused eye contact with Eva’s body, as the dress fell to the ground and revealed the silky smooth skin behind it. He could hear the choir sing. She really was a goddess! “I’m done waiting.” Morgan announced, pulling his shirt over his head quickly, and grabbing both of their hands to pull them down onto the bed, chuckling as he did so. 

Breathing heavily, the naked cowboy moved to lay on his back, a hand going up to rest behind his head. “Holy cow…” He managed to breathe out, closing his eyes for a second as he came to his senses. They’d been going at it, for who knows how long, and it had been one of the best orgasms he’d had in his life. There was a light glisten on his body from the sweat, and the moonlight’s rays shone in through the blinds, casting the only light on the throuple. He opened his eyes, moved to his side and sat up on his arm, smirking at the other two. “So…round two?”

[enddaysengine]

Scion: Oceans Beyond Oceans

And now for something completely different: the story so far of my Scion solo game! You can blame Subnautica for this one, but the story is going in a decidedly different direction.

Prologue: 

The game begins with Olivia Rexus partying on her yacht at a “charity” event for the super rich, drunkenly spilling an entire tray of shot on a Scion of Dionysus, then puking all over said Scion’s feet All and all, a wonderful beginning

Episode 1: 

Last time Olivia barfed on a Scion of Dionysus, making a friend in the process because it was a Scion of Dionysus. I opted to make this a prologue (cause its a solo game and I can do that for narrative effect) and make the maenad-Scion, named Irida Ellis, into Olivia's Guide Birthright (I had another one planned previously, but they weren't showing up until later anyhow). 

This time we have a bit of a timeskip to another party of Olivia's yacht. Liv picks up on the biggest potential threat being Greg Hutt, a rather grump doctor who is gunning to become a Senator. Not a physical threat for sure, but Olivia made an ass of herself at the last party she hosted and alienating him further could make her life more difficult. She IDs someone close to Dr Hutt who may be able to sway him to having a more positive attitude to Olivia - Jackie James, Hutt's close confident and lawyer. She is much more blasé about Olivia's wealthy socialite and appreciated how Olivia (barely) managed to turn what could have been conflict with the Scion into a friendship.

Olivia wanted to send Don Harper, her personal Bard, to scope out the rest of the crowd, but he instead relays info from the Azores coast guard - there's storm coming down on them quickly. Olivia still takes a crack at influencing Jackie - she tries to do it without the lawyer picking up on what she's doing, but isn't subtle enough. Still, Jackie says she'll put in a good word, but that Olivia owes her one. 

As the storm finally bears down on the retreating boat, a flock of swans fly overhead and land on the roof, to a great deal of confusion of the passengers. Things don't go will for Olivia, as soon as the birds land, lightning strikes the boat, igniting a fire on deck. Olivia tries to put it out, fails and gets knocked overboard. Don helps her back up with a life preserve, but now she's badly injured. Lightning strikes again and knocks Liv down.

While she's getting up, she spots an incoming wave and yells for everyone to brace, somehow managing to get every through uninjured. She straight up botches her next attempt at putting out the fire, but then the Storm botches its attempt to flood the boat and puts the fire out (the storm is not sentient, but I'm running it as an antagonist). The fire caused enough damage to cause a power outage, leaving the boat rudderless. Despite only having basic tech training, Olivia is able to immediately get power back (thanks to spending the entire Momentum Pool). 

Because the crises aren't over, while she's doing that, a civilian gets knocked overboard. In an incredible show, Olivia flings a life preserve over to man overboard and hauls him back on deck almost immediately. Dice wise, she rolled three tens on dice pool of eight, turned one of those into another ten, and turned that ten into another success for a total of five! So basically after getting her ass totally kicked by this weather and nearly dying, she pulls off some major Origin-level heroics. 

Sadly, that's where her luck ends, as she and Don both get pitched overboard, finally taking Olivia out, although the rest of the ship is saved... 

(Although the intent was always to have her stranded on a deserted island, so she put up a really good fight against it)

More to come when I play more...

[my-name-is-not-audrey]

3 Phases of Falling

Fall, the season painted the patches of fields and tall plants to the shades from golden to brown by degree. During this warm palette imagery, one holiday spread the air with pumpkin spice, the sweet aroma of candy apples, and the mischievous minds of teenagers desperate to throw rolls of paper towels over the neighbourhood. Everywhere my eyes landed were the decorations of spooky props. It was the second holiday after my favourite one of all time, the joyous Christmas, Halloween.

Nothing Gold Can Stay by Robert Frost burnt on my wrinkled face, with aches tickling my mood, dancing along my curved lips while giving out sweets for trick-or-treating children. Kids nowadays prefer costumes of their favourite TV and internet characters over classic witches and monsters. And the choices of candies grew from various brands, many from foreign, some of which I'd never heard of at my age. As I watched the young couples roaming along with their siblings, memories of the good old days floated back to those we shared on this occasion.

I still remember the three phases of falling.

-

The first fall, ouch.

During my first year at university, party invitations were distributed like flyers. It was my first attempt at joining a Halloween gathering. Maintaining sobriety wasn't much of an option when friends constantly encouraged me to drink. I eventually gulped down a few cups, not only to warm up but also to join the crowds for fun. The night was young indeed.

I was never good at wearing high heels, but Halloween gave me the strength to doll up as Morticia Addams from the series; therefore, the black heels to go with the appearance. At some point, I stopped drinking and felt the need to use the bathroom. My head wobbled from left to right because the weakness in my limbs prevented me from walking a straight line. So, unfortunately, my limbs and consciousness gave in to the alcohol.

My face landed on the floor with a loud thud, ruining the make-up. Noises of oohs and ahhs nearby helped sober me up. Embarrassed, I struggled to get up, only to find both heels broken in half. Red in the face, tears brimming, I arched my elbows and used them as support; hopefully, it would prop my body up. After many attempts, in vain, though. My ankles sprang and refused to work.

A hand reached out before my eyes. Following, I saw you, one of the boys who dressed in Elvis Presley that night. The movie Blue Hawaii was a hit in bygone days; naturally, boys and girls fancied the legendary rock star despite it being the 60s, the era belonged to the Beatles. There was once a period when Elvis's songs were so famous that they sent waves of ripples everywhere. If I had the nerve to say back then, I'd say, "You were the most handsome one by far."

Placing my hand on your palm, a tinge of warmth spread from within, sending waves of electric shots through my veins. Then, I was helped up by your strong arms. A rush of heat caused me to flush as our eyes locked.

The pair of new shoes you drove me to the nearest store to buy afterwards are still stored in the closet, delicate and polished. The original song on the radio had changed from In My Life by Beatles to, what a coincidence, Can't Help Falling in Love.

The first fall was full of shame and pain, but it was worth it.

-

Days passed and came the second fall. Not physically painful, but rather a sinking heart, embraced by the ocean named: you.

Bell chimed while the orchestra struck up the tune as I walked down the aisle with my father's arm linked to mine. You and I dressed in a white gown and a suit, others in the matching colours outfit, mostly in pastel. Wherever we glanced were bright countenance, ready to share the bliss of us. Instead of the usual smells of rusty leaves and pumpkin spice in fall, the air was much sweeter, replaced with cinnamon and apples for the pies we served.

It was our fifth anniversary after my Halloween party in Uni; of course, there were second, third and fourth, all had you kept company with me.

Soft melodies of Can't Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley playing in the background guided our moves as we danced. Your large hand on my waist, lips occasionally on my forehead, sparkling the sensation I could never get tired of. We turned and twirled, swaying our hips with the rhythm as if it were only us and tiny embryos in my womb in this world.

None of us argued that the song became a tradition in celebrating the significance of which we first met on Halloween. We secretly made the song to ours.

Under the stars, we committed to each other, exchanging vows that wished to bring bliss to our marital foundation. Amidst the cool breeze, you recited poems and sang songs with the band to entertain the crowd while children roamed about knocking on every door in their costumes. Beneath the dimming skies, you ensured my parents reached home safely, knowing they could hardly remain sober on such a merry occasion.

Intoxicated by your kindness, your lips, and all you did for my family and me.

The second phase is when I realized that I had fallen harder than expected. Your presence made me melt into your existence, plunging into your affection, falling to your charm.

-

As the seasons changed, so did the phases of falling. Last fall left me uncertain if it was truly over. Unlike the lovely fall traps you set for me, it was a nasty fall I wouldn't dare to imagine.

The reality of your burial beneath the churchyard didn't hit me until the constant "sorry for your loss" became an unending echo, sending a painful reminder of your absence to everyone who greeted me.

The news hit me like a comet—swift, sudden, and without any chance for preparation.

If I wasn't so confused by the ruthless march of time, the details of that day, which I could never mistake.

My eyes were fixed on the TV while getting the call from the news station you worked at, oblivious to the two crystal streams rolling down my cheeks and the person informing me of your demise. Why did it have to be two weeks before our anniversary?

It was my turn to recite as you did at our wedding, only it was an elegy, and dressing in no other colours but black conversely to our wedding.

There has been a castle, one you built for me like you promised. You were my prince, mender, listener, adviser, and the one I wouldn't thank enough stars for allowing such foolish thought of a soulmate entering my life. It was a safe place to guide me so that nothing would go wrong. But now there were cracks everywhere. Those cracks appeared out of the blue, too quick to comprehend, splitting further into the high tower; eventually, a large hole, beyond repair, was planted deep in me. No matter how long I bawled my eyes out or hiccuped the cries in drying my throat, time didn't fix my castle.

Flummoxed was the word I was searching for. My daily routines were out of order, just as my mental state was teetered on the edge of turmoil. It felt like a dark cloud had taken over my mind, blocking out all my senses and rationality, thundering the symphony of suffering. To think of anything but you. I assumed the most approachable term for youngsters to perceive was The Walking Dead. Hence, whatever I did would eventually drift to you.

Why would there be contemplation if I should buy your favourite coffee?

Were you on the news for today's international news during lunchtime?

Should I anticipate you would be home soon for dinner?

Did I set your tableware on your usual seat earlier?

Was I talking to myself again? I think I did.

Did anyone catch me doing so? I hope not. Our boys wouldn't bear the sight of me mumbling like a maniac.

That's when I surrendered to the conclusion in acceptance that my castle was falling apart. I couldn't stop thinking of you and never plan to. Every day during lunchtime, I would flip to the news channel you used to work at, searching for your presence. Sometimes, even at night, I dreamt of you taunting me to move on. You know that's impossible. With my castle wrecked and my spouse gone, my favourite season disappeared from when you left.

-

Fall is now the cruellest season for me. No more sweet, playful innocence that I used to recognize. As the leaves fall, mirroring the autumn of my soul, the bricks of my castle crumbled simultaneously with the changing seasons, echoing the abyss of my heartache.

It's been twenty-six falls since we last danced, which meant my sanctuary had been gone for that long. I sigh, wiping the tears that has been circling in my eyes. Enough with the time being sentimental. The kids are waiting outside for me to hand out the candies. Quickly squeezed the sorrow away, replaced with a smile to greet little guests.

With every falling leaf, I wonder how many more autumns I must endure without you until we reunite somewhere beyond this world.

I miss you so much, Charlie.