#out of all the times we spent together my favorite moment was at our book club meeting / park hangout

[elliesbabygirl]

ch.005 ⇄ ch.006; boyfriend material - Young Friend

"Our conversations always short, we're fucking in my car"

my masterlist.

word count: 4.3k words

series synopsis: friends with benefits, that's what ellie wanted. yet, she can't let you go, even after the messy 'breakup' between the two of you.

warnings: fingering(r! receiving), strap-on sex(r! receiving), kissing, swearing, baby blue didlo referred to as ellie's 'cock', reader cheating(?) on abby anderson, even if they're not officially together + lying to her, and possible hints of abby being closeted to her father.

author's note: can you tell that my favorite color is baby blue btw.. Sorry if you guys don't fw this chapter 💔. It's been a stressful week for me❤️(still not proofread).

The library was quiet, the low hum of students studying filling the space around you. The steady scratching of pens against paper, the occasional rustle of pages turning—it all should’ve been soothing. It should’ve helped you focus.

But you could barely sit still.

Your sleeves were pulled down over your wrists, your collar zipped up just enough to cover your throat, layers strategically hiding the marks Ellie had so desperately left on your skin the night before.

And Abby was right across from you.

She sat at the table, casually flipping through her kinesiology textbook, occasionally glancing up at you with that easy, lopsided smirk of hers. “You good?” she finally asked, raising a brow.

Your fingers twitched against your notebook. “Yeah,” you said too quickly, forcing yourself to keep your gaze on the highlighted notes in front of you. “Just tired.”

Abby hummed, unconvinced. “Mmm. You do look exhausted.”

You swallowed hard.

She had no idea.

No idea how wrecked you were from last night, how your thighs ached from Ellie keeping them spread, how your skin was still sensitive in the places she had marked you up, how your mind kept flashing back to the way Ellie had whispered, you’re all mine, against your skin.

No idea that you had spent the entire morning scrubbing yourself clean, covering up every single bruise with makeup, layering your clothes just to make sure Abby wouldn’t see.

You nodded stiffly. “Didn’t sleep well.”

Abby studied you for a moment, then smirked, leaning her chin in her palm. “Guess I should’ve tired you out more last time, huh?”

Your stomach dropped.

A nervous laugh that tasted like vomit bubbled up in your throat, and you barely managed to swallow it back. “Guess so,” you muttered, forcing a small, tight-lipped smile before ducking your head down, pretending to focus on your textbook.

Abby just chuckled, turning back to her notes.

And you let out a slow, shaky breath.

She couldn’t find out.

She wouldn’t find out.

As long as you kept your guard up—kept your lips sealed—Abby would never have to know the truth.

Sleeping with Ellie was a one time thing, a mistake, you promised yourself.

Abby flipped a page in her notebook, tapping her pen against the table absentmindedly. “Oh—by the way,” she started, keeping her eyes on her notes. “My dad’s coming into town this weekend.”

You blinked, looking up from your book. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” she said, stretching her arms behind her head before letting them fall lazily onto the table. “He’s got some conference thing, but we’re probably gonna be catching up the whole time, so I’ll be kinda off the grid for a bit.”

Something about the way she said it made your stomach bubble.

She wasn’t just letting you know she’d be busy—she was preemptively telling you not to expect to see her. Not to text her. Not to exist in her world for a while.

You swallowed, fingers tightening slightly around your pen. “That’s nice,” you said slowly. “You guys close?”

Abby shrugged, giving a small smirk. “Yeah, I mean—he’s busy a lot, but when we do see each other, it’s cool.”

you forced a tight-lipped smile, nodding as you reminded yourself to give Abby grace. After all, you were creating a double standard by already having slept with Ellie.

She flipped another page in her book, barely sparing you a glance before adding, “Though, he’s probably gonna spend half the trip trying to set me up with some fancy lawyer’s son or whatever.”

You stared at her, waiting for her to follow it up with a joke, a smirk, something.

But Abby just kept reading, like she hadn’t just said something completely out of place. Like she wasn’t literally fingers deep inside you earlier this week.

like Ellie’s pussy wasn't literally against yours last night, but Abby didn't need to know that.

You shut your textbook with a quiet thud, stretching your arms over your head with a sigh. “Alright, I think that’s enough studying for me."

Abby smirked, setting her pen down. “Tapping out already?”

You rolled your eyes. “We’ve been here for hours. My brain is fried.”

Abby chuckled, leaning back in her chair as you stood, grabbing your bag. As you slung it over your shoulder, she tilted her chin up slightly, wordlessly waiting.

You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, brief but lingering enough for her to hum in approval.

“I’ll text you,” you murmured against her mouth.

“you better” she teased, giving your hip a light squeeze before letting you pull away.

You gave her one last small smile before turning toward the exit, digging into your pocket for your phone. The second you checked your screen, your stomach flipped.

Ellie: miss you. come over?? :(

Your breath hitched.

You locked your phone immediately, shoving it deeper into your pocket before Abby could see.

“Something wrong?” Abby asked, raising a brow.

You forced a small laugh, shaking your head. “Just my mom,” you lied smoothly. “Probably just checking in.”

Abby nodded, not questioning it further, and you exhaled quietly, turning towards the exit.

But as you stepped out of the library, the message burned in the back of your mind.

Come home.

Your grip on your bag tightened.

you shouldn't.

The uber to Ellie’s apartment felt too fast. Like your body knew exactly where it was going before your mind could stop it.

By the time you reached her door, you barely had a chance to knock before it swung open, revealing Ellie standing there in an oversized hoodie and sweatpants, her hair slightly messy like she had just rolled out of bed.

Her eyes flickered over you, something soft and shy in them before she stepped closer, tilting her chin up to kiss you. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t desperate—just slow, warm, familiar.

Her hands found your cheeks, thumbs brushing over your skin as she sighed against your lips, smiling a little into the kiss. “Missed you in bed this morning,” she mumbled, her voice low, still thick with sleep.

Your breath hitched slightly at the way she said it—so casual, so certain, like waking up with you beside her should’ve been normal

She pulled back just slightly, her green eyes flickering over your face before she pecked your lips again, softer this time, like she couldn’t help herself.

Then, without another word, she took your hand and led you inside, pulling you toward the couch. The TV was still on, some random show playing, the remote tossed onto the coffee table like she hadn’t actually been paying attention to it.

Ellie sat down, tugging you with her, settling right against you, her arm resting over your waist as she slouched comfortably into your space.

Every so often, she’d lean in, pressing absentminded kisses to your neck—soft, warm, casual—like it was second nature, like she didn’t even have to think about it.

You shivered slightly, the warmth of her breath against your skin sending something familiar through you.

Minutes passed before Ellie let out a quiet sigh, clearly losing interest in the show altogether. She shifted beside you, tugging at the hem of your hoodie, her green eyes flickering up at you.

“I really did miss you this morning,” she mumbled, her voice low, a little rough.

Before you could respond, Ellie leaned back, shifting until she was lying fully against the couch, pulling you down with her until you were on top of her, her hands sliding up your back to keep you close.

Then—she kissed you again.

It was slow, deep, dripping with something raw and needy, her lips parting slightly as she sighed into your mouth. Her fingers curled around the back of your neck, keeping you there, her legs wrapping around your waist, her old Converse pressing firmly into your lower back.

She moaned softly against your lips, her body shifting beneath you as she kissed you deeper, her tongue lazily slipping into your mouth, teasing, tasting you.

For a moment, she dominated the kiss, slow and intentional, making you feel every inch of her, every ounce of want she had been holding back—

Then she let you take over.

Her body relaxed beneath yours, her hands trailing down your spine, her breath heavy as she let you lead, let you kiss her the way you wanted, her lips parting under yours like she was ready to give in completely.

The room was filled with the quiet, wet sounds of your lips moving together, of your hands slipping under each other’s shirts, exploring, remembering.

Ellie sighed into you, her nails scratching lightly at your scalp, her hips subtly rolling up, chasing more, even though she wasn’t rushing anything.

The only thing you could hear was the quiet, wet sounds of Ellie’s lips moving against yours, the soft sighs slipping from her mouth every time you kissed her deeper.

She was needy, barely holding herself together, her body shifting beneath you as she tried to keep the pace slow, tried to act like she wasn’t getting turned on from just kissing you.

But she was failing.

Her hips kept rolling up against you, subtle at first, like she didn’t mean to, but then again—this time, deliberate.

A quiet whimper slipped from her throat, her fingers gripping at your back, keeping you pressed against her. Her breath was heavy, her lips parting beneath yours like she was desperate for more, for anything you’d give her.

She pulled back just slightly, her lips still hovering over yours, her green eyes dark and glazed over. “Please,” she mumbled, the word slipping out between the small space of your lips, like she couldn’t help it.

Her hand slid down, fingers tracing the front of your pants, playing with the button—hesitating, waiting for you to say something, for you to let her.

She didn’t care how desperate she looked.

Didn’t care that her hips were still subtly grinding up against you, her breath coming out shaky and uneven.

Didn’t care that she was practically begging now.

All she cared about was you—letting her have you, letting her make up for every second she had lost.

Ellie barely made it to the bedroom before she was on you again, her lips finding yours with a messy, open-mouthed desperation as she pressed you back onto the bed. The room was dimly lit, the only source of light filtering through the blinds, casting soft shadows over her face, her flushed cheeks, her needy expression as she hovered over you.

Her hands roamed over your sides, gripping, pulling—taking you in. She needed to, needed to feel you again, to memorize you, like you might slip away if she wasn’t holding you close enough.

“Fuck, I missed you, baby” she murmured against your skin, her voice rough, laced with something desperate as she pressed her lips to your neck.

She reclaimed the hickeys she left last night, sucking dark bruises into your skin, her tongue flicking over them before she bit down just enough to make you gasp. The sound made her groan, her hips grinding down instinctively against your thigh, like she couldn’t help herself.

Her fingers made quick work of your clothes, yanking fabric over your head, shoving your pants down until they were completely forgotten on the floor. She didn’t waste a second, her hands slipping between your thighs, teasing you, spreading you open, her breath hitching when she felt how wet you were already.

“Shit, baby,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to your jaw, fingers trailing between your folds, circling right where you needed her. “You’re already so fucking ready for me.”

You whimpered, bucking into her hand, and Ellie moaned, her own breath shaky. She slid one finger inside, slow and careful, her other hand gripping your hip, holding you there as she worked you open.

“need my cock inside you,” she whimpered suddenly, her lips brushing your ear, her voice almost pleading. “Please.”

You shivered at the way she said it. “please what?” you teased breathlessly, even though you already knew.

Ellie exhaled sharply, her forehead pressing against yours, her fingers curling inside you just right. “You know what, baby,” she whispered, kissing you slow and deep as she rubbed her thumb over your clit, making your body twitch. “baby—please, I need to.”

You hesitated for only a second before nodding, and Ellie swore under her breath, her lips crashing against yours before she reluctantly pulled her fingers away.

She reached into her nightstand, grabbing the harness, the baby blue dildo attachment making your stomach tighten. Ellie's hands trembled slightly as she adjusted the straps, securing it around her hips, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

Then, without a word, she straddled you suddenly, her knees pressing into the mattress as she hovered over you, still, quiet for a moment as she took you in—laid out beneath her, waiting.

She swallowed thickly, her voice softer now, almost shy as she whispered, “You’re so good to me, baby.”

Ellie exhaled slowly, adjusting her grip on your waist, fingers flexing slightly like she was grounding herself, steadying her breath as she lined herself up with you. The baby-blue dildo pressed against your entrance, slick and warm from where she had been grinding against you moments before.

Her green eyes flickered up to yours, searching, asking silently even though you had already given her permission.

You nodded, wrapping your arms around her shoulders, and that was all she needed.

Ellie pushed forward, slow and careful, her breath stuttering the second she saw herself slip inside. “Fuck—” Her voice was barely above a whisper, shaking with restraint, her lips parting as she watched your expression shift beneath her.

She froze for a second, her fingers tightening their grip on you. “'M not hurting you, right?”

You shook your head, breath hitching as you adjusted to the stretch. “No,” you murmured, pulling her closer, kissing her softly. “You’re good, els.”

Ellie fucking whimpered.

Something in her snapped.

The second the nickname slipped past your lips, her hips jerked forward, pushing in deeper, a wrecked, breathless moan spilling from her mouth. “Fuck—say it again,” she begged, her voice breaking as she thrust into you again, her movements suddenly needy, desperate.

You gasped, nails gripping onto her shoulders as she rocked into you harder, her forehead pressing against yours, breath hot and heavy between you.

“Els—”

Ellie groaned, her hands gripping your hips even tighter, her pace picking up as she rolled her hips in a way that had your body tensing, arching into her touch. “Again,” she pleaded, her lips brushing against yours, swallowing every little sound you made.

“Els—ohmygod els—”

“Fuck, baby—” She whined into your mouth, her thrusts growing rougher, sloppier, like the sound of her name on your lips was ruining her, completely breaking her down.

“Keep saying it,” she begged, voice raw, desperate, her fingers slipping between your legs to really make you feel her. “Wanna hear you say it when you come—fuck, baby—say my name just like that—”

Her mouth trailed down your neck, her pace relentless now, obsessed with pulling those noises from you, chasing the moment where you’d break completely and give her everything.

The sound of her name on your lips had completely undone her, and now she couldn’t stop, couldn’t slow down—her hips snapping into you harder, deeper, the wet sounds of your bodies moving together filling the room.

Her mouth dipped down, desperate for more of you, her lips wrapping around your breast, sucking hard before pulling your nipple between her teeth. You cried out, back arching, your nails digging into her back, leaving scratches she was going to feel tomorrow

Ellie groaned, relishing the sting, her free hand gripping your other breast, squeezing, playing with you like she needed to feel every inch of you under her hands.

“Fuck, baby—” she gasped, her mouth trailing sloppily back up your chest, her breath hot against your skin as she begged, “please—say my name just like that—”, Ellie was completely pussy drunk on you, and she didn't even know it.

“Els—fuck—els, ohmygod!” you moaned, body trembling, hips rolling up to meet her every thrust.

Ellie whimpered, her movements turning even sloppier, even rougher, her hand slipping between you to rub tight, frantic circles against your clit. “That’s it, baby—fuck, you’re so good—so fucking good for me—pussy so fucking good for me.”

You shattered.

Your whole body tensed, your breath catching as the pleasure crashed over you, your nails digging deeper into Ellie’s back, leaving red in their wake as you moaned her name, over and over, falling apart beneath her.

Ellie followed you, a wrecked whine slipping from her lips as her hips stuttered, her body trembling as she came, still rutting into you as she whimpered, mouthing at your breast, her hand pawing at you, like she couldn’t stop touching you.

“Fuck—fuck—” she gasped against your skin, her body shaking with the aftershocks, her forehead pressing against your chest, her breath uneven, her whole body burning from how hard she had just come.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, just breathed, tangled together, Ellie still pressed so close, her hands still gripping at you like she wasn’t ready to let go.

She stayed right there, still inside you, her body warm and heavy on top of yours, her breath uneven against your skin. Her fingers slipped into your hair, lazily threading through the strands, her touch slow, gentle—such a stark contrast to how desperate she had been just moments ago.

Her chin rested against your chest, face pressed close to your skin as she listened to your heartbeat, felt the steady rise and fall of your chest beneath her. The soft motion moved her slightly, rocking her with each breath you took, like she belonged there.

And then—so quietly, like she almost didn’t want you to hear it—Ellie whispered, “I love you.”

The words barely left her lips before she tilted her head up, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to yours—no rush, no desperation this time. Just Ellie, just her, giving you all that she was, without saying anything else.

She pulled back just slightly, her green eyes watching you as you recovered, as you steadied your breathing. She traced slow, absentminded circles on the nape of your neck, still not moving, still holding you so close, like you were home in her arms.

The apartment was quiet, save for the low hum of the coffee maker and the gentle sizzle of the pan on the stove. Ellie moved slowly, deliberately, her socked feet barely making a sound against the hardwood as she flipped the eggs, watching the edges crisp just slightly before turning down the heat.

The smell of coffee filled the air, warm and rich, mixing with the faint scent of butter melting in the pan. It was early—too early—but Ellie didn’t mind.

She glanced toward the hallway, toward her slightly ajar bedroom door, where she knew you were still curled up, tangled in her sheets, your body pressed into the warmth she had left behind. The thought sent something warm curling in her chest, something she wasn’t used to, something she didn’t want to name just yet.

She sighed, running a hand through her messy hair before reaching for the mug she had set out, pouring herself some coffee as she leaned against the counter, watching the steam curl into the air.

It felt normal, domestic. The kind of morning she didn’t think she’d get to have with you again.

And yet—here you were.

Still in her bed.

Still here.

She swallowed, pushing the thought aside as she turned back to the stove, flipping the eggs onto a plate.

Ellie took a slow sip of her coffee, letting the warmth spread through her chest, before setting the mug down with a quiet clink. She exhaled, running a hand through her messy hair, again, before padding back towards the bedroom, the faint creak of the floorboards the only sound in the stillness of the early morning.

The sight of you tangled in her sheets made her stomach flip.

You were buried in them, limbs sprawled lazily, face half-hidden against her pillow. The soft rise and fall of your breathing was steady, peaceful—familiar.

Ellie swallowed, something in her chest tightening as she carefully climbed onto the bed, straddling your waist without putting too much weight on you. Her hand found your cheek, thumb brushing gently over your skin as she leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

You stirred slightly, letting out a sleepy groan but not fully waking just yet.

Ellie smirked against your mouth, barely pulling away, her lips still hovering close as she whispered, “Morning, baby.”

Your nose scrunched slightly, a small grumble leaving your throat as you shifted beneath her, still so tired from the night before.

Ellie chuckled, pressing another soft kiss to your lips, her thumb still tracing slow circles against your cheek. “C’mon,” she murmured, voice low, warm, teasing. “I made breakfast.”

You groaned again, this time more exaggerated, burying your face into the pillow. “Too tired,” you mumbled, your voice muffled, your body still aching in the best way from last night.

Ellie grinned, dipping down to press another kiss to your jaw, then your cheek, her barely-there coffee breath the first thing you smelled as you shifted beneath her. “Can’t be that tired,” she teased, her lips ghosting over your skin. “Not after the way you were moaning my name last night—”

You groaned louder this time, smacking her thigh halfheartedly as she laughed, her breath warm against your skin.

Yeah.

Ellie could get used to this.

She is getting used to it, too quickly.

So were you. What about Abby?

“Ellie fucking Williams,” you groaned, voice rough with sleep, full-naming her as you blindly reached out to shove at her shoulder. “You are such a fucking freak in the morning—”

Ellie just grinned, unfazed, her hands settling on your hips as she hovered above you. “You love it,” she teased, leaning in like she was gonna kiss you again.

You narrowed your eyes, putting a hand on her face and shoving her away with a huff before finally sitting up, stretching lazily. Your muscles ached from the night before, your body still warm from the way Ellie had held you against her for hours.

You sighed dramatically, leaning back against the headboard, rubbing at your eyes before reaching out, fingers absentmindedly playing with the short ends of Ellie’s auburn hair.

Ellie melted instantly, the teasing grin on her face softening as she inched forward, tilting her head into your touch like it was instinct.

You barely noticed it at first, still blinking sleep from your eyes, until her green ones flickered up at you, something warm, something fond behind them—

And then she was kissing you again.

Soft, slow, her hands curling around your waist as she pressed forward, like she couldn’t help herself.

It lingered, deepening slightly before she finally pulled back, her lips hovering over yours for a second before she spoke. “You got any plans today?”

Her voice was casual, but there was something hesitant about the way she asked, like she was hoping you’d say no, like she wanted you to stay.

You pretended to think, lips pursing, stretching your arms out with a long, dramatic sigh as if you had so much on your agenda. “Well… I was supposed to attend this very important—”

Ellie raised a brow, her hands still gripping your waist as she stared at you, waiting.

You fought to keep a straight face, eyes flickering up like you were really considering something, before finally shaking your head with a small giggle. “Nah, no plans.”

Ellie’s face lit up. “Really?” she asked, like she needed to hear it again just to make sure.

Ellie let out a soft, relieved laugh, ducking her head with that boyish smile of hers, shaking her head slightly like she couldn’t believe her luck. “Fuck, I love you,” she muttered, more to herself than anything, before leaning in again, pressing another giddy kiss to your lips.

You both giggled into it, hands tangling in each other’s hair, lips moving together in messy, soft kisses, smiling so much that it made it hard to kiss properly.

Ellie hummed against your mouth, her fingers squeezing your hips before she pulled back just slightly, her forehead still resting against yours. “Alright,” she murmured, breath warm against your skin. “As much as I wanna keep you here all day… I did make you breakfast.”

She kissed you again—quick, chaste, just to steal one more—before standing up, stretching her arms above her head.

You just watched her, still breathless, still feeling the warmth of her lips, her laugh lingering between you.

Ellie turned back to you as she reached the door, arching a playful brow. “Well? You coming or what?”

yeah.

You could get used to this.

What about Abby?

© elliesbabygirl - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms.

Author's note: can y'all tell that i fucking lost the plot midway...ch. 006 is so ass u guys, I'm so sorry. I've genuinely been thrown off my rhythm ever since my midterms started, since I've gotten sick, AND since my period started this week😭yeah life's been kicking mybas lately y'all but I'm so sorry for being so late with this mid ch.006...Also, I had to watch homemade lesbian porn on pornhub to write the strap on scene cause your girl has ZERO game n has only ever tribbed with a girl before 😭so I'm sorry if the scene seemed a little wonky to you cause I was trying my best, I promise y'all😭

TAGLIST: @liasxeatt @vahnilla @sleepingwasp @morticeras @violetszn @eriiwaii @elliesactualgirlfriend @mikellie @lovely-wisteria @idletyouruinme @losing-it-lately @robinphobia @sexlus @lez-zuha @liztreez @linabellaox @piscesfairyyy

COMMENT TO BE ADDED TO MY TAGLIST!!

[catgirltitties]

I want to hear about your favorite memory with a random friend of yours from past or present, in tags/reply/reblog :)

[willowpains]

we listen and we don’t judge

drew starkey x latina actress reader!

Drew was not a fan of social media.

Unlike you.

Chronically online was a term that was gaining fame to describe someone who spent quite some time on the internet, and who knew all the trends going on.

You weren’t exactly proud to be a part of that community.

But it kept you entertained.

And that’s how you ended up setting your phone up, ready to record Drew and you filming a new trend on TikTok.

How did you convince him to do it? You don’t even remember.

And after what felt like an eternity of explaining the dynamic to Drew, you both were finally ready to begin.

Both of you sitting next to each other on your couch, you looked at him with a mischievous smirk while he stared at you suspiciously.

“We listen and we don’t judge” you both said at the same time, Drew smirking at you.

“I’ll start” you said, looking from your phone screen to your boyfriend. “Sometimes, when I don’t really wanna cook, I get all dramatic and lie about us not having all the ingredients for the dish I was supposed to make, so you can offer to make something instead with what we do have” you say, giving him an embarrassed smile.

He chuckled at your words.

“I knew that love” he lets out a laugh. “You’re not good at lying to me”.

Your mouth opens up in shock.

“We listen and we don’t judge”.

Drew pauses for a moment, smiling at you.

"When you're showering, i close the door of our room so the sound of your music gets as muffled as possible" he admits.

You giggle as you nod at his words, you did like to shower with loud music.

“We listen and we don’t judge”

You look at him through the screen.

“I thought you hated me when we first met, so I would intentionally try to stay out of your way our first couple of working days together”.

Drew gives you a puzzled expression trying his best not to judge.

“We listen and we don’t judge”.

He clears his throat before speaking.

“I often fake coming home super tired and stressed so that you take pity on me and cuddle me while playing with my hair” he says giving you a cute smile.

You giggle at his words.

“That’s cute” you admit leaning to peck his lips.

“We listen and we don’t judge”

You take a couple of seconds before speaking, trying to be dramatic.

“I have a lot of edits of you saved on my favorites folder on TikTok” you look at him.

Drew covers his eyes while letting out a chuckle.

“We listen and we don’t judge”.

He looks at you mischievously.

“I get jealous of the guys in your books” he admits seriously.

You let out a laugh as you throw your head back.

“We listen and we don’t judge”

You giggle softly before confessing the next one.

“Whenever I feel sick in the middle of the night, I wiggle a lot in bed or move your body so you’ll accidentally wake up and ask me what’s wrong”.

He opens his mouth surprised at your words.

“We listen and we don’t judge”

Drew thinks a little before speaking.

“Ever since we met I’ve always been skeptical of your at home remedies for illnesses, even though they work every time” he admits.

You slowly nod while giving him a defeated look, knowing that already.

“We listen and we don’t judge”

You give him a playful look before speaking.

“When we’re cuddling, sometimes I have the urge to stand up abruptly because I get too hot and I feel like I can’t breathe because you’re too big” you say, barely getting out the words without laughing.

Drew looks at you with big eyes, moving his brows up and down at the double meaning of your last words.

You roll your eyes at him.

“We listen and we don’t judge”

He thinks for a moment before speaking.

“When I’m showering, sometimes I’ll use your shampoo rather than mine” he pauses as he looks at your baffled face. “It leaves my hair softer! And smells like you”.

Of course, there were a few confessions you had to cut from the video because your PR managers would hunt you down if they made it out into the internet.

“We listen and we don’t judge” you both say smiling at each other.

You smirk playfully at him before speaking.

“I cannot stand one of your friends and past coworkers” you admit, making a serious face.

Drew immediately throws his head back and lets out a chuckle, knowing exactly who you’re referring to.

“We listen and we don’t judge”

He clears his throat before looking at you.

“I don’t like watching F1 since you told me about that driver that slid into your dm’s” he lets out cockily.

You burst out laughing looking at him while he joins you.

“We listen and we don’t judge”

You make a thinking face looking at him.

“I wish you sent me more shirtless photos” you say giving him puppy eyes. “Or like, you took more of those with my phone, so I could look at them”.

He snorted out a laugh.

“That can be fixed baby” he says as he looks at you mischievously.

“We listen and we don’t judge”

He gives you a smile.

“When I travel for work and you’re not coming with me, I take a pair of your panties and stuff them in my suitcase” he says laughing.

You scrunch up your nose at him.

“Drewwwwww” you say covering your face, now knowing where those missing undies went.

“We listen and we don’t judge”

You avoid his eyes for the next one.

“Sometimes when I’m cold, I throw on one of your dirty hoodies that you used while working out, cause they’re sweaty and smell like you” you say, trying not to burst out laughing.

He gives you a grossed out look.

“We listen and we don’t judge”

You look at him waiting for him to speak.

“You know those sleeping shorts Brooke sent you cause she accidentally bought too many?” He says, making quotation marks with his fingers while saying sent and accidentally.

You nod at his words.

“I actually bought them for you because I love how your ass looks in them”.

Your mouth opens at his confession while you hit him playfully in the chest.

Drew laughs at your reaction.

“Oh my god baby, this is definitely not making it to the video” you say as you stand up from your position while laughing at him, walking to your phone to stop recording, while he stands back watching your movements with a smile.

Noticing that in fact, you were wearing a pair of those shorts.

“We don’t judge remember?” he said cheekily.

*

inspired by @valstranquility lando blurb<3

I love this trend on TikTok and I just couldn’t help myself

they’re just too cute I can’t

this was short n sweet hope you like it, if you have any other concepts you’d like to read let me know!

[littleprinces]

Day 12: Age Gap

Haerin x Male Reader

Kinkvember Day 12

She was sitting alone at a quaint coffee shop in Greenwich Village, her eyes scanning the crowd as she sipped her latte. She was new to the city and hadn't made many friends yet. As she looked up from her book, her gaze met mine. I was a 40-year-old man with a lean, muscular build, and I couldn't help but be drawn to her youthful charm.

"Excuse me," I said, leaning over her table. "I couldn't help but notice your book. Are you enjoying it?"

She looked up at me, a slight smile playing on her lips. "Yes, it's a classic. Have you read it?"

I nodded. "Many times. It's one of my favorites."

We spent the next hour talking about literature, art, and the city. Haerin was intelligent and witty, and I found myself increasingly drawn to her. As we left the coffee shop together, I suggested we continue our conversation over dinner. She agreed, and we walked to a nearby restaurant.

Over dinner, our conversation turned more personal. I learned about her dreams and aspirations, and she asked about my experiences in the city. The chemistry between us was palpable, and as the night wore on, I found myself wanting her more and more.

"You know," I said, leaning closer to her across the table, "I've really enjoyed our conversation tonight. But I have to admit, I'm finding it hard to concentrate on anything but you."

She blushed slightly, her eyes flickering with a mix of surprise and excitement. "Is that so?"

I nodded. "Yes. In fact, I think I'd like to see you again. And not just for dinner."

She raised an eyebrow, a playful smile on her lips. "Oh, really? And what did you have in mind?"

I leaned in, my voice low and husky. "I think you know what I'm talking about, Haerin."

She held my gaze for a moment before her eyes flicked down to my lips. "I think I do," she whispered.

The following week, Haerin came over to my apartment. As soon as she walked in, I could see the desire in her eyes. I poured us some wine, and we sat on the couch, our bodies close but not yet touching.

"You're beautiful, Haerin," I said, my hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "I've been thinking about you all day long."

She leaned into my touch, her eyes never leaving mine. "I've been thinking about you too," she admitted.

I leaned in and captured her lips in a soft, gentle kiss. She responded eagerly, her lips parting to allow my tongue to explore her mouth. Our kiss deepened, becoming more passionate and intense.

I broke away from her lips and trailed kisses down her neck, feeling her pulse quicken under my touch. She moaned softly, her head falling back to give me better access. I nipped at her earlobe, making her gasp.

"You taste so good," I murmured, my hand sliding up her thigh. "I want to taste more of you."

She shivered at my words, her breath coming in short gasps. I unbuttoned her blouse slowly, revealing her smooth, creamy skin. I leaned down and captured one of her nipples in my mouth, swirling my tongue around it before sucking gently.

"Oh, God," she moaned, her hands tangling in my hair. "That feels so good."

I switched to her other nipple, giving it the same attention. Haerin's body was on fire, her hips moving restlessly against mine. I could feel her heat through her jeans, and I knew she was ready for more.

I unbuttoned her jeans and slipped a hand inside, finding her wet and ready. I stroked her slowly, my fingers exploring her folds. She gasped and bucked against my hand, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

"You're so wet," I murmured, my voice thick with desire. "I can't wait to taste you."

I slid my fingers out of her and brought them to my lips, sucking them clean. Her eyes widened at the sight, and I could see the desire in them. I pushed her back onto the couch and slid down her body, my hands gripping her hips.

I hooked my fingers into her jeans and panties and pulled them down, revealing her glistening pussy. I leaned in and ran my tongue along her slit, tasting her sweetness. She moaned and arched her hips, giving me better access.

I licked and sucked at her clit, my tongue swirling around it before flicking it lightly. Haerin's moans grew louder, her hands gripping the couch cushions. I slipped two fingers inside her, curling them up to hit her G-spot.

"Oh, God, yes," she cried out, her hips moving in time with my fingers. "Right there, don't stop."

I kept up the pressure, my fingers moving in and out of her while my tongue worked her clit. Her breath came in short gasps, her body tensing as she neared the edge.

"I'm close," she panted. "So close."

I increased the pressure, my fingers moving faster and harder. Haerin cried out, her body convulsing as she came. I lapped up her juices, savoring her taste.

I stood up and undressed quickly, my cock rock hard and ready. Haerin watched me, her eyes filled with desire. I climbed on top of her, my cock poised at her entrance.

"Are you ready for me?" I asked, my voice gruff with desire.

She nodded, her eyes locking onto mine. "Yes," she whispered. "I'm ready."

I pushed into her slowly, giving her time to adjust to my size. She was tight and wet, her pussy gripping my cock like a velvet glove. I groaned at the sensation, my hips moving slowly at first before picking up speed.

"You feel so good," I grunted, my hips moving faster. "So tight and wet."

Haerin wrapped her legs around my waist, her hips moving in time with mine. "Faster," she begged. "Harder."

I obliged, my hips slamming into hers as I fucked her hard and fast. The sound of our bodies slapping together filled the room, our moans and cries echoing off the walls.

"Oh, God, yes," Haerin cried out. "Right there, don't stop."

I could feel my orgasm building, my cock throbbing inside her. I reached between us and rubbed her clit, my fingers moving in time with my hips. Haerin's eyes rolled back, her body tensing as she came again.

"I'm going to come," I groaned, my body tensing as I pushed into her one last time. "I'm going to fill you with my cum."

I came with a roar, my body shaking as I filled her with my seed. I collapsed on top of her, our bodies slick with sweat. I rolled off of her and pulled her into my arms, our bodies still joined.

"That was incredible," she whispered, her fingers tracing patterns on my chest.

I smiled, my eyes closed. "It was," I agreed. "And I'm not done with you yet."

We spent the rest of the night exploring each other's bodies, our passion and desire never waning. As the sun rose, we lay entwined in each other's arms, our bodies sated and satisfied.

[fuckyeahimafangirl]

I come here late to give my opinion on what Nicole Maines said in her book about the Supercorp fandom (go to Twitter for more info, but she basically gave her point of view of things as a queer actor on the show having expected things from the queer fans, confirmed we were being queerbaited while also blaming us for some actors getting fired). I appreciate her side of things and feel for her. But reading that I felt that A LOT was overlooked, especially the context of it all. So sit back if you care enough to read this and come with me as I go on a rant and we go down memory lane to give some context into what it was like to watch Supergirl live as a Supercorp fan.

The first season of Supergirl had its fair share of ships. People liked Kara/Cat, Kara/James, Kara/Win maybe anyone? I don't remember that one but I'm sure there were people out there who liked them. Some people even liked Alex/Kara (a conversation for another time). Kara/Cat shippers could also like Kara/James, because both ships had some strong foundations in the narrative, they were undeniably good ships, regardless of how you feel about age-difference relationships or straight relationships lol. There wasn't mostly an issue, except with the ones that liked Kara/Alex.

In between the first and second season of Supergirl it was announced that a main character would be gay. They didn't say who, though. Speculation began, of course. They did say that Maggie Sawyer was coming to the show but it was not confirmed that she was going to be a lesbian and even less whose love interest. 

Then the second season premiered. And in the very first episode Kara Danvers meets Lena Luthor. Their scenes together were filled with sexual tension from the very beginning, look at their meeting scene without context and a bit of an open mind and most people will see their chemistry and think that maybe Kara was meeting her soulmate. And the first scene of Supergirl meeting Lena Luthor? It was already drawing a parallel between them and Lois/Clark, one of most iconic, recognizable and undeniable canon ships of all time. Drawing parallels between these two ships was the creators of the show's favorite pastime and it started from day one, before the ship had any fans because we hadn't met Lena just yet.

But in that episode we did meet her. And we fell in love fast. Because their interactions and the interest concept of Lena's character were good. Could it really be that Kara was the main gay character? Could it really be that they were going to give us an epic love story with Supergirl and a family member of her family's historically known enemy? Could they dare to make the famous superhero anything other than straight?

It wasn't just a delusion on our part at that time. It was a real possibility based on real facts. Kara had suddenly dropped the guy she spent the entire previous season chasing after. She got him and dumped him for no good reason (the writers didn't bother to give it a good excuse) and in the same episode she meets this woman, at the start of the season we were going to discover a main gay character.

These are all facts.

A few episodes later Maggie Sawyer makes her debut and it's clear that she's Alex's love interest from the first moment. Cool. It's not Kara but at least it's Alex (because, at the time, we know, WE KNOW, that they don't have two lesbian/queer women characters in the same show unless they're dating each other. How could we think that gay people will surround themselves with other gay people? silly us), that was the reaction: We still LOVED that it was Alex, because it still made sense. And it was difficult to find Sanvers fanfic without it having Supercorp in it because we were all the same people, of course most of us liked both ships. 

Now, I obviously don't know her, but I seriously don't think that Chyler can say she felt overlooked by the fans that season. Alex's coming out scenes were some of the best we had seen in our entire lives up until that point, and we made that known. Not all of us might have been on board with Sanvers (some storyline choices could've been questionable) but with Alex? No one loved her more than the queer Supergirl fans. And in the meantime Supercorp kept getting screen time, their friendship progressing in a Clois kind of way that was beautiful to witness. While Maggie and Alex's relationship advanced pretty quickly from an "I'm not gay" to a rejection to a proper first kiss, Supercorp was building a bit more organically as Supergirl kept saving Lena's life, as Lena opened up only to Kara, trusting her all the while Kara was keeping this huge secret from her. We ate that shit up, of course we did.

After season two was over we got the news that Floriana Lima (Maggie) was going to leave the show. I remember Chyler saying that she wanted to do right by us and whoever came next was gonna stay. And I'm not faulting Chyler for what came next, at all. Chyler was and always will be one of the best things on Supergirl and she has always treated the fandom with the utmost respect and love. And I hope she only received the same treatment back (and I hate to know she got those letters from people threatening to kill themselves, but let's have a little compassion for those people and their mental health, I hope they're doing well).

So Maggie left. And while some fans were not coping well with that, most fans understood it was the actress' decision. That was fine. What wasn't fine was the decision the writers made by making the breakup about not wanting babies when they were about to get married. How on Earth (any Earth) a couple don't talk about that particular issue BEFORE deciding to get married? It was an easy way out. But okay, it's just a TV show, I don't write it, we can move on from that... In the same season, at the same time this whole discussion and breakup occurs, the very same person who wanted to have kids has a meet-cute with a SINGLE MOTHER, Sam. The story was full of promise, she had a kid already with whom Alex got along amazingly, there was great chemistry between all three of them, Sam also had a dark secret being basically her sister's most powerful enemy, their relationship was mostly well built throughout the entire season. But guess what? She wasn't her new love interest, and left at the end of it. 

A lot of Supercorp fans LOVED AgentReign (Sam/Alex), by the way. A lot of Supercorp fans also loved ReignCorp (Sam/Lena) and a few even loved AgentCorp (Lena/Alex) and SuperReign (lol what was the name of this ship? I don't remember but Kara/Sam). And guess what? There wasn't a war between us. We were mostly the same people multishipping because it's fun and because these were interesting characters with interesting relationships created by the writers. We were inventing and wishing for stuff, but the foundations were laid for us, some (most) things were there and most of us were just screaming that we liked what we were being given and wanted more of that.

And that's why come season 4, some people were having a hard time accepting Dansen. Because we were mourning the loss of Sam and her relationship with Alex, the what ifs are always the worst, no matter the situation.  But most Supercorp fans embraced Kelly (and Azie, we love Azie and what we got to see of her relationship with Chyler, and Katie and Nicole), the vast majority of us ended up loving Dansen despite the writers not always doing a great job at writing their arcs. And it's awful that some fans treated her and other members of the cast horribly, but that was by far a small portion of the Supergirl fandom in general, and especially the Supercorp fandom. And, by the way, as a side note because racism was part of the problem for a minority of the fandom, A LOT of us in the Supercorp side of it are not white people from the US, A LOT of us are from other countries/races/cultures (that can be racist too of course, but the point is we don't know the races and motives of everyone behind a keyboard).

And that season most of us also embraced Nia because she was the first trans superhero, because of her queerness, because she was an awesome fun character, because she was relatable and geeky like most of us. We embraced her, her relationship with Kara and her relationship with Brainy. And we showed that by trending Nia related things, by adding Nia to our fanfics and fanarts. Nia was a Supercorp ally for most of us and we didn't exclude her from the art because we loved her as much as we love some of the other characters in the show.

Now, if Kara would have had, after the first season, one male love interest that was decent enough, we would have still love and wanted Supercorp, that's true (especially when it had been years of build-up) but most of us probably would have liked the pairing anyway, because we loved Kara Danvers and wanted her to be happy and to have the love she wanted at the beginning of the show (which she didn't get, by the way).

But the writers decided to give her, instead, another man who didn't treat her well. And I couldn't honestly tell you half of William's storyline because I couldn't care less. The creators of the show didn't make me care. Hell, I didn't even see Kara cared enough about that character. The writers should know their audience and should know that the audience needs moments to make them care about the characters, the writers have the power to make that happen. Many times I've seen a fandom hate a character one episode and love them by the next one, because sometimes all it takes is one good scene, or one good arc. William never had that. And now we have confirmation of what we knew all along, that maybe they were writing half-assed storylines for their love interests because they were too busy trying to figure out new ways to queerbait us. If they would have put a quarter of that effort into creating good love interests for Kara and/or Lena (but especially Kara), most of this conversation wouldn't still be happening 3 years later.

We embraced Andrea Rojas, we embraced her so much that we shipped her with Lena. Most of us weren't the blind Supercorp-or-nothing crazy fans a lot of people to this day make us out to be. When things were good, we mostly liked them. But please, please, let's be honest here, a lot of the time Supergirl was not a great-written show. And I get that those are Nicole's friends but a little objectivity, especially after all these years, would have come a long way.

These past few days I've read a couple of people saying Supercorp was the only good thing about the show. Those kinds of people were and still are a very very minority. A lot of us started the show before Supercorp existed and LOVED (still love) the Danvers sisters with all of our hearts. And the writers, at times, didn't know how to keep up with that relationship, the one that at first was the very center of the show, all that well either.

Most Supercorp fans didn't actually like that the 100th episode revolved all around Supercorp. 1) Because it was queerbaiting at its finest. 2) because it should've been about the Danvers sisters. Or at least about all Supergirl's most important relationships in equal measure. Yes, Lena was a big part of her, but ALEX EVEN MORE SO. The fandom didn't make that happen, we didn't fire any actor either. These were decisions made by the people who had the power to make anything in the show happen. If we would have had our way we all know what we would have done, and no, it definitely was not p**n (the most used AO3 tags for our ship speak for themselves).

I didn't see Nicole's last paragraph on the subject shared much. A lot of people didn't see that she acknowledged a small portion of the good the Supercorp fandom did.

But by the time you get to it, you already have a bad taste in your mouth. Because it still reads as if she's talking about us all without a care that "the toxic fans" were just a loud minority. Not to say that the good guys weren't louder, because Supercorp is still what it is to this day because we're still loud. So why is there very little mention of that? The way we supported Nia's episode? The way we supported Kelly's?

And because we were having fun and we were loud about our love for two fictional characters, WE WERE ALSO RECEIVING THREATS from some toxic fans, hell, the day before yesterday some fans were receiving death threats like it's 2017. Everything she says the cast and crew were dealing with, the Supercorp fans were dealing with it as well, and more so because the toxic people felt validated by the choices the creators made. Validated by some writers on Twitter making it worse. Validated by some of the actors who were also mocking us. We were all called delusional, and that was the most chill thing you could be called.

I understand her point of view, and I imagine that was not a great first experience in that kind of set, and I would love to have the opportunity to talk to actors about this topic that fascinates me (relationship between fandoms and cast/crew). But context is important, to see other people's point of views is important when having these conversations. She felt her own community wasn't supporting her when most of us were and that didn't come across at all. Not even with her final words. 

The fact is, they were hurt by a small part of their own fandom (which, by the way, they have no idea how old those toxic fans were. Not to say that adults are not toxic. But we, as the non-toxic adults, should also think of the demographic and react accordingly). And most of us, the queer Supercorp shippers, were also hurt by the toxic part of the fandom and by some of the people she's trying to defend. Let's be clear, there's not "mayyyybe," they were 100% wrong in queerbaiting the hell out of us from day one and mocking us for believing the bait. Make no mistake, most of this is a consequence of THAT. 

[mytherapyisreading14]

Halloween

Summary: Halloween is just around the corner and it finally brings you closer to Spencer

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: Fluff

Author’s Note: I have on idea why this came to my mind during Christmas but here we are, I hope you still enjoy it!

“So, do you already have a costume idea?” Garcia asks as I come in. She insisted that the team celebrates Halloween together after finding out that none of us planned anything special that day. “Not yet. But Spence and I wanted to make pumpkin muffins, we'll bring them with us,” I tell her. "Making muffins, how boring. You should make out instead. In the kitchen. No wait, in the kitchen after making muffins,” Garcia says excited and grins.

"Who’s making out in the kitchen?" Morgan asks as he comes around the corner. "Reid and her,” Garcia says. "What? Pretty boy and pretty girl finally make out?" he asks in disbelief. „Shh, he can arrive any moment. And no, we didn’t make out,” I tell Morgan. “Boring,” he says and I roll my eyes at him.

When I started at the BAU, I spent a lot of time with Spencer from the beginning. I loved listening to his ramblings, he taught me to play chess and we always talked about our favorite books and movies. We started to hang out together and over the time, my crush got worse and worse. Eventually I was head over heels in love with him before I could stop it. But I’m too afraid to tell him because we've been friends for so long, even though the others think he's just as in love as I am.

“Why don’t you ask him if he wants to make a partner costume with you?” Gracia asks me. “Babygirl, you always have the best ideas,” Morgan says and I smile. “Why didn't I think of it myself? The idea is great!” I agree. “Oh that’s gonna be so good,” Gracia says when the door opens and Spencer comes in with a coffee and a bag from my favorite bakery.

“Good morning,” he says and hands me the bag. “I heard that they make pumpkin donuts because of Halloween, so I brought you one. It’s from your favorite bakery,” he says and smiles. Morgan and Gracia look at each other and grin. “Oh wow, thank you so much! Did you try them too?” I ask him.

He shakes his head. “Then we have to try it together!” I say and reach for the donut and hand it to him. "Just take a bite. It doesn't bother me." He nods and takes a bite of the donut. “They’re really good,” he says and gives me a thumbs up and a smile. I take a bite of the donut too. “Oh wow, I think I've found my new favorite pastry for autumn,” I say with my mouth full of the donut and Spencer smiles again. “I’m glad you like it.” He looks so cute, I just want to kiss him.

“Hey lovebirds, you're not here to feed each other pumpkin donuts, there's still a lot of paper work waiting for you,” Derek says and points to the large stacks on our tables. Spencer turns red and turns away quickly to hide it. I sigh and reach for the first file, Morgan is right, the work doesn't do itself. And we should use the time before we get called away due to a new case.

-

Half a dozen paper files later, we’re finally done with our work. My head is spinning and even though I've had much more stressful days at work, I'm totally exhausted. Emily and JJ finished work half an hour ago. Rossi is still in Hotch's office to discuss a case and Spencer is just finishing up his last bit of work. I wanted to wait for him so I could ask him about the costume.

He packs up all his things and after saying goodbye to everyone we make our way to the elevator. "Spence, do you already have a costume for the Halloween party? I don't really know what to do yet," I ask to steer the conversation in the right direction. “Not yet, I have some ideas but haven't really decided yet. But I wouldn't tell you anyway, I want it to be a surprise," he says and grins.

“I, um, I was thinking we could, you know, maybe we could make a partner costume?" I ask him and blush. “Oh wow, that’s a great idea! Did you have any couple - uh I mean partner costumes in mind? Since we’re, I mean, since we’re just going as friends,” he says. He’s nervous now too. “To be honest, I don't have any ideas yet. But I will think about it, we'll come up with something eventually. I mean, we still have time left until it’s Halloween,” I say and smile. “Right,” he says and we leave the building and go over to the parking lots.

“Do you need a ride home?” I ask him and Spencer shakes his head. “I'm here by car too but thank you anyway,” he says. “Well then I'll see you tomorrow. And thanks again for the donut,” I say and unlock my car. He smiles and blushes again. He looks so cute, especially when he blushes. "You’re welcome, I'm glad you liked it. See you tomorrow then,” he says and gets into his car too. Before I leave, I send Garcia a quick message. "He agreed!! :)" She answers immediately. "I can hardly wait. I'm excited to see your costume." I smile. Hopefully the time until Halloween will pass quickly. I can hardly wait.

-

Almost two weeks later the time had finally come. I'm just waiting all morning for the time to pass. Spencer wanted to come early in the afternoon so that we have enough time to make the muffins and then get ready together afterwards.

Last week, after some back and forth, we finally decided on a costume. At my request, we watched Suicide Squad on one of our weekly movie nights. Then the idea came to me to go as Harley Quinn and Joker. Reid wasn't entirely convinced at first, but he couldn't say anything against my argument that he has the perfect hair length and after seeing me so excited, he agreed. We planned our costumes and after a while he got just as excited as I am.

To make time go by faster, I clean my whole apartment again and prepare everything for the pumpkin muffins. Time passes painfully slow but eventually it’s finally 4 o‘clock and the doorbell rings. My heart automatically starts beating faster and I rush to the door. “Hello, I bought us pumpkin donuts, today is the last day they have them,” he greets me. “Hey Spence, thank you so much! I’m really gonna miss them, they made my Halloween time even more sweet. Especially since you always brought them to me.” He blushes, takes off his shoes and we go into the kitchen.

“I've already started to prepare a few things for the muffins. Then we'll have more time to get ready later,” I explain to him. “That’s good, thank you. You have to help me with my makeup anyway, I don't think I can do it that well,” he says and I nod. "No problem, I can do it. Did you get the green hairspray?" I ask him. He nods. "The last bottle, I was lucky.” He goes over to the sink to wash his hands. I turn on some music and we start baking.

I keep snacking on the dough all the time and Spencer just shakes his head laughing. “We won't have anything left for the muffins if you keep on eating all the dough,” he says. “I know, but it just tastes soo good,” I exclaim and take some more.

-

2 hours later the muffins are all ready and decorated. I put them on the balcony so that they can cool down while Spencer goes in the bathroom to change into his costume. We haven't seen each other's costumes yet, even though we know what it will look like. I go into my room and take my costume out of the closet.

I keep getting stuck in my fishnet tights but manage to put them on after what feels like forever. When I'm finally finished, I look at myself in the mirror again. My shorts are not covering that much but honestly I don't care. I want to driver Spencer crazy tonight. I quickly put my hair in two ponytails and take all my makeup with me into the living room. I'm going to do Spencer's makeup first before I finish getting ready.

He's struggling with the hair dye bottle when I come out. He looks up and his gaze wanders over me. "Wow, you look perfect - I mean the costume. Not that you aren't perfect too, but the costume fits you perfectly. That's what I meant,” he says. I have to hold back my laughter. That's off to a good start already. “Your costume is amazing too, Spence. Purple suits you,” I say and take the bottle out of his hand to open it.

“Do you want me to put it on?” I ask him and he nods. “A little help wouldn’t be bad. But if you want you can get ready first,” he says. “No, I will help you with your hair and make up and then it’s my turn. I can still put on make-up quickly even under stress,” I tell him. "I don't want you to be stressed because of me,” he says. "Don't worry, I’m not,” I tell him and point to the couch for him to sit down.

“Hair or make up first?” I ask him. “Make up,” he says and I reach for my bag. I take two clips so I can keep his hair out of his face. I giggle when I see him like this and quickly take a picture. “Hey, you're supposed to do my makeup, not taking pictures," Spencer interjects with a laugh and tries to take my phone away from me. But I'm quicker and let it disappear back into my pocket. "Sorry but I had to, you just look so cute with the clips,” I say before I reach for the makeup.

I'm really close to his face and it makes me nervous, especially because he's looking into my eyes the whole time. He has the most beautiful brown eyes I have ever seen. I get lost in them for a moment but then I tear my gaze away from his eyes and focus on applying the makeup. I lean further forward to get a better look before I start applying it but I stumble and lose my balance, falling straight into Spencer's arms.

I turn bright red and try to stand up while straddling Spencer's lap. His hands are on my hips because he tried to catch me. Our faces almost touch and my heart is beating faster than ever. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I just lost my balance, I had to lean so far forward so I could see -“ I begin to explain myself but Spencer interrupts me by taking my face in his hands and kissing me.

For a second I'm overwhelmed by the situation because I didn't expect it at all but then I kiss him back immediately. The kiss is gentle and I run my fingers through his hair and briefly break away from the kiss to take out the clips because they are annoying at the moment. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” Spencer admits, pulling me even closer to him. “Me too, Spence,” I say, leaning forward to kiss him once more. His hand are gently roaming over my body. I craved this feeling, having him to this close to me, for a long time now.

We keep kissing and after a while I pull away from him. "We should continue to get ready now, otherwise we'll be way too late. The others will tease us all evening then. And this time, rightly so." I say and grin. "I'm afraid that's not possible. I never want to stop kissing you,” Spencer simply says and places another kiss on my mouth. “You only have to stop for now. You can keep kissing me when we’re all ready,” I tell him and play with his hair.

He looks in my eyes and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. He suddenly seems a bit nervous and I nudge him. "What's wrong?" I ask him. “Do you, uh... I mean, should we, uh... I mean, I need to know, do you want to be my girlfriend? Because that's what I want. For long time. Since I first saw you, to be more exact. So I want to know if you want that too, because then we have to think about telling the others and -“ he starts with a faint blush on his cheeks but I cut him off by gently placing a finger on his lips.

“Of course I want that Spencer. I always wanted that. I've been head over heels in love with you ever since you sat next to me on the jet my first day and stated me 1000 statistics about absolutely everything imaginable. I wanted to listen to you forever,” I tell him. He smiles and pulls me into his arms. “I love you. So much that I don't want to let you go just yet. What do you say, kissing and cuddling for 10 more minutes?" he asks me and grins. “You are impossible. And unfortunately also irresistible. Okay, 10 more minutes before we get ready. I love you, my pretty genius.” I say and tap him on the nose before I lean forward and kiss him once more.

[bqstqnbruin]

Letters Unsent

Listen listen I know this is my second Quinn fic in a row but I was scrolling through Libby yesterday during parent/teacher conferences and I saw a book that was about letters written between twins that never got sent and then I browned out and next thing I knew this fic was written.

Shoutout to @nicohischier for reading thing while I yelled about it in her dms when she was living life

Warnings: SA(?) (kissing without consent and then she knees him in the dick), swearing, drinking, mentions of sex, angst

WC: 4006

____________________

Dear Quinn, 

My therapist told me I’m supposed to write letters to the people I wish I had one more conversation with. Apparently it’s supposed to help me get all the feelings that I’ve kept bottled up, out in a way where I don’t have to actually say them. Not only did she tell me I had to, but she told me she would read them. Talk about an unnecessary invasion of privacy. Is that even legal?

But, I’m paying her (or my health insurance is paying her) for a reason, and Kelly seems chill anyway, so I guess that’s fine. I’m writing to you and to my grandmother, the one who passed away when I was little, so don’t feel that special. You’re not even going to read these anyway, so I’m not sure why you would. 

Do you remember when we first met? Elias was convinced that the two of us were meant to be, and for some reason, Brock and Ally agreed, too? Ally still brings up that even when we were friends, our entire friend group somehow knew that you and I would end up together. I’m actually surprised it was Elias who said it was us first, and not Ally. It was always supposed to be us.

I just wish we didn’t end that way. 

Lov From,

Sarina

Dear Quinn,

I don’t remember the last time I went out to a bar and got as drunk as I did last night. Ally kept buying drinks (or, conning men into buying us drinks, her favorite pastime). I think the last time I really drank that much might have been the night we first met. Ally told me that I needed to go out for once and forget, since I’ve really just been moping around the apartment (Kelly I know you’re going to read this, calm down I’m writing it for a reason). But what’s the point of going out when there’s nothing to really see? 

Going to bars bores me, you know this. Why spend money to get to the bar, then spend money to get into the bar, then spend more money once you��re inside the bar, then spend even more money to get home from the bar, when I can stay at home and drink for a lot less money and with a lot less people around?

Anyway. 

I still don’t really understand how we all became friends. At that point, Ally was just my roommate, and it was just the two of us against the world. I think if Brock hadn’t spilled his drink all over me, we probably would have just avoided the three of you. The fact that we even went out in the first place was astonishing. I didn’t even realize what had happened, the fact that I was covered in some sticky, alcoholic liquid, until I heard you scolding him for it. Your voice is what pulled me in to the group, you were what kept me in.

Brock, of course, insisted he make up for it, as he would, while you just stood off to the side and laughed into your drink, the scolding from moments before gone while you watched Brock make a fool of himself (as Ally and I would later learn, was actually just him being him). He brought the five of us so many drinks, he might have spent a year's worth of his salary that night alone.

Ok, not his salary. My salary, maybe. 

I don’t know what came over me that night we met, though. You know me well enough to know that I am not the type of person to do something big, or something that might scare me if I can help it. 

Asking you to dance was definitely because of the alcohol. Working up the courage to do that when the rest of our friends were standing talking was easy because of the alcohol. There was something about the vibe that night that made me want to do it. Something inside me was telling me I had to, or that I would regret it.

Part of me does regret it, sometimes. But, fuck, I’m glad I did it. 

Maybe that’s why they all say that we were meant for each other. Something about you had me doing things I never would have done otherwise. Ally took pictures of us while we were dancing. She said that we should use them for when the two of us inevitably got married. I don’t think I’ve ever looked at someone the way I looked at you.

Maybe it was the alcohol. 

Maybe it was because you were looking at me the same way. 

LoFrom,

Sarina

Dear Quinn,

I hate my job I hate my job I hate my job I hate my job.

Something, something, Kelly would tell me that if this is making me this unhappy, that I should quit, blah, blah, blah.

In this economy, though??? With this job market??? Maybe I go to another country…

I fucking hate that one guy, Jamie. Do you remember him? 

I feel like I ask you that a lot, if you remember certain things. I guess I’m just wondering if you think about me and us as much as I think about you. I hate how that sounds/reads/looks, but unfortunately for me, it’s true. I shouldn’t think about you as much as I do, but, here we are. That’s probably why you were the first person I thought of to write to when Kelly told me to start (sorry Grandma).

Anyway, Jamie was that guy we ran into that one night at the bar, before we started dating. Of course you remember him. You probably remember him more than you remember anything about me at this point.

He kept hitting on me, at one point had his hand on my arm and you went fucking crazy. 

It was insanely hot. 

I’ve told you that before, but I might as well tell you that again.

  What was even hotter in the moment was when you came up behind me and wrapped your arms around my waist. I always felt safe in your arms, if I’m being honest. That’s fucking corny of me.

Whatever.

You came up behind me and told him that you were glad he was keeping me company, that I was safe with someone I knew. I’m almost positive I heard you call me ‘your girl,’ but it was so loud in there, who knows. I hope you did. 

I’ve never seen someone so pissed off as I had when Jamie stomped away. 

I’ve never seen someone look the way you did, almost hungry? Jealous? When Jamie came over to me in the first place. I saw you the entire time, the way you clenched your glass, how you nearly threw it at Elias when you first saw Jamie touch me. I thought you were just trying to be a good friend. 

But it was the fact that you didn’t let go of me, you rested your chin on my head, even when Jamie was out of my sight.

I finally was able to turn around and get a look at you at one point after we just stood there for a little bit, the two of us starting to sway to the music. For me, it felt like there was no one else around us. I asked you why you were still holding on to me.

The fact that you just smiled at me, your hands tightening on my waist instead of outright answering me made my heart skip a beat. Every stupid, gooey, wonderful feeling you could think of when you know that you were in love with the person in front of you ran through me. 

My mind went blank when you finally kissed me. When I finally could form a coherent thought, the only thing I could think of was how that felt right.

You felt right.

I started this letter to talk about my job, but honestly, Jamie isn’t even worth it. He never really was. 

LFrom, 

Sarina

Dear Quinn,

The fact that we didn’t outright start dating after that night you kissed me drove me fucking insane. I don’t think I ever told you that, but seeing you talk to any other girl when we went out made me feel like I was going fucking insane.

I can’t believe you let me be jealous about a guy, about you of all people. I’m honestly pissed at you for that. And, the fact that I can see you reading this, see you throw your head back laughing at this, that kind of smile on your face as rare as it is would make me even more pissed at you.

The first time you asked me to come to a game after we kissed was the worst. Together, both of us tried to act like it had never happened. Ally apparently kept texting you telling you what you should do next, since, of course, she would be the one in our friend group to not only see us kiss, but to record it. Another video for our wedding, apparently (I still don’t know what she meant by ‘another’). Regardless, we had continued on like nothing happened, like we hadn’t kissed. Like it hadn’t meant anything to you.

And I had to pretend the same, even though it was sending me into a spiral.

After the game, you told us how to meet you outside your locker room so we could go get dinner (I kind of hate matinee games? They’re too early to do anything before and end too early to do something meaningful after? I felt like we were supposed to get a senior citizens discount when we finally made it to dinner). I saw you talking to that one girl; she was gorgeous. Honestly, when you think of the perfect girl, you probably should think of her. 

I saw you laugh and smile at her, and I felt a pit in my stomach wishing it was me you were talking to. 

When you hugged her, your hand lingering on her arm and the smile on your face staying there after you walked away, before you saw Ally and I with Elias and Brock, I felt like I could scream.

You knew something was wrong when I barely said anything on the way over. You were the one who didn’t buy it when I said I was just tired from work still, that I hadn’t slept the night before. You were the one who called my bluff when I said I wasn’t hungry because you were the one who heard my stomach, who was on Facetime with me when I went to sleep the night before.

I hated that you were the one who could call me out; not Ally, who I’ve lived with and been best friends with for how many years, you. I hated that you were the reason I shut down.

I hated you for a second.

How was I supposed to know that was Jake’s sister? 

From, 

Sarina

Dear Quinn,

When you finally asked me out, I knew it was because Ally had threatened you (affectionately). I pretended to be surprised that you were going to ask me, but I knew it was coming, I just didn’t know when. You never really were the type to let everyone in on things right away, were you?

I was surprised how you had the audacity to take me out to dinner and only let me know after you dropped me off that you thought it was a date, our first date. It must have been nice to go into dinner knowing it was a date when I had no idea it was. 

Sometimes I just wish you would have talked to me when you were thinking. You’re so quiet, you always look like you’re lost in thought, and I thought I could tell how to find you again. I felt like I knew everything, but apparently, I didn’t.

From,

Sarina

Dear Quinn,

Kelly told me that she wants to open up more in these letters. Apparently, I’m not letting myself ‘feel enough’ and that these letters are too vague, whatever that means. 

Fine, Kelly. 

You know when I knew for sure that I loved you? The first time we slept together. 

I didn’t tell you for three weeks after that that I loved you, even though I knew, and you didn’t tell me you loved me for almost two months after that. 

I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.

If you had told me, we wouldn’t have gotten so pissed off at each other all the time. I know I’m shit when it comes to sharing my feelings, but god, you were even worse. 

The first time we fought was barely a real fight. It was just us not talking. 

You were pissed off when I told you I had to do a project with Jamie. It’s not like I asked to be paired with him. I actually actively asked to not be anywhere near him as much as possible, but apparently, so does everyone else (capitalism is the worst, what do you mean the guy we all hate can stay at the job because he brings in a lot of money?) when I said I was talking to him at night because we had to get this project done, that the faster I could get the project done, the sooner I could go back to ignoring him.

Jamie was a fucking prick. Jamie is a fucking prick. But god, that night I would have talked to Jamie if it meant you didn’t act that way. 

I don’t remember everything that brought us up to it, but I remember it dawning on me. I didn’t know for sure that you liked me, or if you hated Jamie more from the stories I had told you. I doubted you. I doubt you. I never told you that outright, in those words, because how do you tell the person you’re supposed to love that you don’t think they love you back?

I asked you if you kissed me that night because you actually wanted to, or if it was just to make Jamie mad. He was still in the bar, even if I didn’t see him. You had seen him. You could see him. You saw him when you kissed me. You saw him over my shoulder when you pulled away. You admitted to it. 

You kissed me to get back at a guy you hadn’t said more than a couple words to. 

And then you told me it was because you loved me. Because you were in love with me. That you apparently knew when you first met me that you were going to fall in love with me, if you hadn’t fallen already.

I stared at you, furious at you and believing that you started our relationship because you wanted to, what, claim me? Mark me? I don’t even know. But then you told me the one thing I wanted to hear from you and the only thing I wanted to do was throw something at you.

So I walked out of your apartment instead. I called Brock, I had him pick me up, and he drove me back to my and Ally’s place. 

It was Brock who tried to convince me that what you said was real, that you actually meant it, and that he and Elias knew it was the truth because you told them. For some reason, you had waited until then, until we were screaming at each other, to tell me. It was Ally who needed to be calmed down after threatening to kill you, only once Brock pointed out that the city would probably riot against her. 

I was numb. 

And it was you who made me feel that way. I felt nothing. I wanted to feel so many things, anything really, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t feel a fucking thing. These letters are supposed to be me going back and figure out and really acknowledging what I was feeling throughout what I think were our biggest moments. But I didn’t feel anything.

Are you happy now, Kelly?

From,

Sarina

Dear Quinn,

I think after that last letter, I was nervous to write another. Ally found me sitting and crying at my desk. Apparently I never told her the full story of what had happened that night or why I didn’t talk to you for two weeks, even though she and Brock tried to get it out of me, Elias going over to your place once you called him. Elias didn’t know either, from the sound of it. We were Rory and Logan without the Bridal Party (if you still don’t get the Gilmore Girls reference, then we really shouldn’t have been together in the first place. We watched the show seven times, at least). 

We didn’t really know how to be around each other for a bit after that, did we? It took us a while to get back to where we were before. 

Who says that they love someone when they’re in the middle of a fight like that? Who says it for the first time like that? If you loved me, shouldn’t you have told me before? Shouldn’t you have told me in a different way?

I didn’t think you meant it when you told me you loved me, but everyone told me that you did, so I think I let myself believe it. At least at that point, I did. I think you loved me. You never seemed to be able to reassure me when I had my doubts, if you even knew that I had them. I know I loved you. 

I’ve spent the last year and a half trying to convince myself that I don’t love you anymore. 

Kelly, is that what these letters are supposed to be doing? Am I supposed to convince myself that I don’t love Quinn, or that I do?

We’re about to have a really intense session, aren’t we?

From, 

Sarina

Dear Quinn,

At this point, I’m just mad. These letters are just making me mad. I’m still mad about how we broke up, I’m still mad that you kissed me the way you did. 

I’m still mad that I think about you all the fucking time. 

The reason we broke up is what makes me furious.

I told you nothing was going on with Jamie.

I don’t like him. I have never liked him. I will never like him. The only person who mattered to me the entire relationship was you. You are were the one who mattersed to me. 

I told you so many times that Jamie was the one who kissed me. You knew I would never kiss that guy.

But the fact that you saw it? I’ve never felt like screaming and crying more than I did in that moment, causing a scene in public and embarrassing everyone be damned. The look on your face when I finally was able to push him off me, only to see you standing right there, drinks for both of us in your hands. I could see the tears in your eyes, your Adam's Apple bobbing up and down while you swallowed what I was sure was rage, anger, hurt, fury. You didn’t see that I was crying, too. You didn’t see that I was struggling to get him away from me. It was only a kiss, one that I didn’t want to happen, and you didn’t see anything other than his lips on mine.

If you did, you didn’t seem to care. 

You nearly broke the glasses as you slammed them down on the table near you, knocking over multiple people when you stormed out of the bar. 

I had to knee Jamie in the dick to get him off me so I could chase after you. 

You broke up with me right there. I don’t know how I could forget the look in your eyes when you told me you didn’t want to see me anymore if I was going to cheat on you with Jamie when you were standing right there, as if I intended to do that. You looked like you could kill someone. 

You didn’t care that I wasn’t the one who fucking kissed him, that I didn’t kiss him back, that you are the only person I want to kiss. If you heard anything I yelled at you when you were walking away, you didn’t care. You left me there, and I had to watch you walk away.

Ally found me on the sidewalk, sitting on the ground against the building outside where you told me you didn’t care about me anymore. I couldn’t even tell her what happened because I screamed so loud that my voice was gone.

Fuck you for that, Quinn.

Sarina

Dear Quinn,

Fine, I fucking miss you. That’s why I thought of you first to write to. There are so many fucking things that I never got to say, that I never got to ask, that I know you never told me that have been eating away at me and occupying my thoughts more than I want them to.

I miss you, I miss being held by you, touched by you, kissed by you. I miss the feeling if your skin against mine, the feeling of you inside me, for fucks sake. I miss when you would talk to me like I was the only person who mattered to you, because I know that you loved me as much as I love you. 

I miss every god damn stupid habit that you have, every little quirk of yours that you did on a game day that would drive me fucking insane. 

I still come home sometimes when you guys are on a road trip and expect you to call me, no matter where on the continent you are, because you missed me and I missed you and we needed to hear each others voices. 

I miss the guys and being friends with them, even though Ally still talks to them and gets to see them. 

You never let me tell you what really happened, because I don’t think you cared. I don’t know if you loved me.

I wish you did, because, fuck, I still love you. 

Are you happy now, Kelly?

I still love Quinn. You’re going to tell me that I’m too young to say this, but: I will always love that stupid, sad, wonderful boy that I met by chance one night at a bar and got to spend time with. I will always love the guy who made me laugh so hard I couldn’t breathe and cry so hard I couldn’t speak. I will always love Quinn, no matter who else I will fall in love with, or out of love with, if I stay here in Vancouver until I die, or if he gets traded or if I move on my own.

Fuck.

Love, 

Sarina

Dear Sarina,

I get that I was never supposed to see these. I probably am not supposed to know they even exist, but I’m fucking glad I do. You’re going to kill Ally for sending these to me, but, let’s face it, she’s the one who’s been pushing for us since minute one. Would we have had anything if we didn’t have Ally? 

But I don’t want to talk about her. 

I miss you.

I want you back.

I’m a fucking idiot for not being with you, for walking away from you that night.

You think that I didn’t love you? I’ve loved you this entire time. I loved you from the first time we talked, even though, you’re right, I didn’t say it when I should have because I’m an idiot. 

Can we talk?

Love,

Quinn

Dear Quinn,

Yes.

Love, 

Sarina

[fanficsformyfaves]

I Don’t Wanna Live Forever Pt.1

Rhea Ripley x Fem Prostitute!Reader

WARNINGS: SMUT 18+, ANGST, Oral Sex (R Receiving), Fingering (R Receiving), Strap On Sex (R Receiving), Prostitution, Mentions Of Abusive Pimp and Past Trauma, Confessions

PREFACE: Reader was Rhea's favorite girl to call on a Saturday night, but little did she know that the wrestler was falling harder and harder with each visit

A/N: Flashbacks In Italics!

As we stumbled into her bedroom, our hands were all over each other, as our lips met in yet another heated exchange. I pull away briefly to get on my knees, when she stops me.

"Not tonight", she exhaled,

I pout playfully.

"You never let me go down on you"

"Cause that's my job"

My eyebrows furrow at the irony of that sentence.

Rhea had been my main client for the last year. She'd always pay the most, which got her the longest sessions, so I wasn't complaining...except for the fact that I was getting attached.

I couldn't deny it. From the first night we spent together, I knew she wasn't just a regular client. We'd just got done going at it for hours and just when I go to gather my clothes, she stops me.

"You don't have to leave yet", she breathes out,

Leaving me confused.

"I'm sorry?"

"I mean, we could just lay here a while"

This was a first. As obvious as it sounded, I've gotten accustomed to being hastily shoed away right after my sessions, that I was genuinely caught off guard.

"Are you sure?"

"Why not? Do you have any other clients to attend to?"

"Not tonight", I answered,

Suddenly overcome with a new found shyness.

She offered a small smile, before taking me by the hand back to bed. The rest of the evening, I laid in her arms, as she slowly caressed the expanse of my back. We didn't talk or do much of anything past that, besides enjoy the gentle silence and for the first time in what felt like ages, I felt like a person again.

Not just entertainment for someone's pleasure or something to be used. A person.

I know that might not make much sense, but when you've spent so long feeling like you've had to fight for your life everyday, the simple things remind you that it's worth living.

But that in and of itself was a double-edged sword. I couldn't get too used to the comforts I find, cause I knew it was only a matter of time before it gets taken away from me or I end up ruining a good thing for myself. I knew the pains of being used and left behind like trash on the road and I couldn't allow myself to go through that again.

When the morning came, we were still entangled in each other's limbs under the sheets and as much as I wish I could just stay in that moment for longer, I knew my boss would get pissed at me if I missed an appointment.

So with that, I carefully slipped out of her grasp and got dressed, before leaving.

It didn't take long before she booked me again for the following Saturday.

And the one after that and the one after that. With each passing meet, we slowly got to know each other past the physical things like her job, her interests, etc.

"Why'd you get into wrestling?" I asked,

As she lit my cigarette for me.

"Well, I had to do something with this strength...besides carrying pretty girls like you into my room", she teased,

Bringing a blush to my face.

"You say that to all your girls", I challenged,

"No...just my favorite"

Her thumb gently tracing back and forth on my thigh.

Yes, the actual sex was good, but nothing beats what happens afterwards. The talks, the cuddling, the smoking on her balcony. It was all I could want and more.

Which only made it all the more harder to swallow the feelings that were desperately trying to claw their way out of me. I even asked my boss if he could start booking me with other people instead for the sake of not jeopardizing anything, but of course, that wasn't how things worked.

"You're making demands now? You think you're someone special?"

"I didn't mean it like that-"

"You want this job?"

"Yes, but-"

"Tough shit, then. You take what I give you or you walk. You need me more than I need you. I don't care how pretty that face is. You ain't getting special treatment", he said,

Slamming the door in my face.

I was just gonna have to figure it out on my own, whilst pretending like everything was fine, which brings us back to where we were now.

"Plus, you'll ruin the surprise"

She slips my top off over my head, before helping me out my skirt.

"Look at you", she whispered,

Pulling me in by hips, before kissing me once more.

She eventually backed me up against the bed, whilst I unbuttoned her blouse. My eyes wander up and down her inked skin, as my tongue swiped over my top lip in anticipation. I licked a stripe all the way up her abdomen, before eventually meeting her mouth with mine. Her fingers get a grip on my roots, gently pulling my head back to leave wet kisses against my neck.

One thing about Rhea is that she's passionate in the way she touches. She wants me melting before she even truly got started.

She reaches behind me, undoing my bra, as I worked to get my underwear down. I then tug at her sports bra, signaling that I wanted it gone, to which she tugs it off and drops it at our feet. My mouth immediately wraps around one of her stiff buds, causing quiet groans to escape her smeared lips.

"That's it", she praised,

Cradling my head and gently sitting me down. I undo her jeans and pull them down, revealing the surprise in question.

"When did you get this?"

"Came in this morning", she said answered,

Brushing a strand behind my ear.

It was a good length and the thickness was sure to leave me feeling this night well into tomorrow. She's used toys on me before, but nothing quite like this.

"Mind getting it ready for me, darling?"

I chew at my bottom lip, looking up at her with a mischievous grin, before taking the strap into my hand and running my tongue over the tip.

Her eyes stared daggers into my bare skin, taking in every second of the little show I was putting on. Eventually, she pulls away and gets me on my hands and knees. I hear shuffling and just as I go to turn to see what she was doing, I feel her tongue press against my soaked heat. I let out a gasp, feeling the cold metal of her piercing rub against my clit.

Her fingers began rubbing up and down my entrance and with no resistance left in the way, she pushes two digits into me, pressing directly against my sweet spot.

"Oh, God!", I cried,

"He can't hear you", she smiled against me,

Sending chills up my spine.

She spends a good few minutes between my legs bringing me closer and closer to edge and at the very last second, she pulls away with a huff. I whine at the loss of her touch, but she was quick to soothe me.

"Patience, love", she exhales,

Wiping her mouth of my taste and reaching over to shove them in my mouth. I couldn't have accepted faster.

"So good", she says,

Pressing kiss after kiss against my shoulders and back, whilst lining up the toy with my slit. She thrusted into me in one swift motion, shamelessly ripping a scream of her name out of me.

It wasn't long till her momentum picked up and she was repeatedly hitting the spot I needed most. The tight grip she had on my hips would surely leave marks, but did I care? No. I was so engulfed in the pleasure, that all possible consequences ceased to exist.

She then reaches under me and began toying with my already-sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Rhea!", I cried out,

Grabbing behind for one of her hands.

I was at the brink of coming fully undone and it didn't help that her pace only grew more relentless with each pound.

"I'm here, darling", she groaned.

Unbeknownst to me, her own core was rubbing against the harness, meaning she was also chasing a high of her own.

"God, the things you do to me", she praised,

Biting down on my skin, which added even more fuel to the fire that was consuming me whole. The knot in the pit of my stomach was on the verge of snapping apart and I knew she could tell I was close.

"Do it. Fuck, cum!", she moaned,

And with that, I was hurled over the edge along side with her. She kept going, allowing me to ride the orgasm to its last legs, before we both fell against the sheets.

I desperately tried to catch any breath my lungs would allow, as she did the same, holding me in her arms. It took a few moments, but eventually, my vision found its way back to me, despite still seeing stars from how intense it all was.

After allowing me to fully calm, she gently pulls out, making me whine at the sore emptiness.

She soothed my aches with a few quiet hushes, whilst turning me to hold my frame in her arms.

"You did so well", she reassured,

Kissing me softly.

The remainder of the night we had left was spent with her just holding me.

Something about tonight felt different. She was more quiet compared to how she usually was.

"Something on your mind?", I asked,

Looking up into her eyes.

"Nothing. Just you"

There goes my heart again, drumming against the walls of my chest.

"Could I ask you something?"

I nodded against her bicep, not tearing my eyes away from hers.

"Do you ever wish it could just be this?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. Just...you and me?"

My heart went from beating at the speed of light to a sudden pause.

"Rhea"

I sit up, pulling the comforter to cover myself.

"I've just been thinking about it", she continued,

"I like you, (Y/N). It's all I've been able to think about"

"You don't mean that"

"I do", she takes my hand into hers,

"That isn't how this works", I sighed.

I could tell she could sense the reluctancy and indecision in my voice.

"We'll never know if we don't try", she argued,

And at this point, I could feel myself holding back tears threatening to spill.

"You pay for my time and I service you. That's it"

She turns away and that's when I knew it was over. I managed to destroy what could be my last shot at something worth living for.

"I'm sorry", I said,

Stepping out of bed.

Not wanting wallow in the mess I made any longer, I simply just got dressed and left without another word. As painful as it was to go for the very last time, I knew it was for the better.

Or so I thought.

[iouinotes]

match made in heaven | Alex Walter

pairing: Alex Walter x female!reader

show: My life with the Walter boys

warnings: just kissing word count: 2,2k

summary: At your birthday party you get dared to spend 7 minutes in heaven with none other than your best friend Alex.

a/n: A modified review of "Beautiful boy" Thank you @rogueanschel-reads for the woderful idea!

"Come on, even a stranger can sense your attraction for each other, the hidden love that lays beneath your friendship."

Maybe it wasnt the best idea to play truth or dare.

Well, firstly I want to say that I love my friendgroup. Grace, Skylar, his boyfriend Nathan, Kiley and of course, my best friend Alex.

Really, I love these guys. But sometimes they make me want to jump off a cliff, no regretting or turning back.

In moments like this, where I want to spent a good time partying with my friends, because its my 16th birthday, they need to remind me of the he-who-must-not-be-named-topic. That means for outstanders, my non-existent, strictly friendly feelings for my best friend Alex.

The guy, who has absolutely no idea, he's being compared to Voldemort. But for the matter of fact, Harry Potter are my all-time favorite movies and early Voldemort was actually quiet handsome. So, it kinda makes sense. Why? Because Alex has put a spell on me with his smile and his pretty face.

But back to my party.

We are currently in the living room, our knees are touching the legs of the person next to us and someone (Grace) encouraged us to smuggle a few bottles of alcohol to the party, even though we didnt plan to drink.

Now, Skylar had the great idea to embarrass everyone by playing truth or dare, but with a twist. He likes to call it "match made in heaven" or what it actually means, making out in a closet. Something like that, I've never participated in any of these games.

Until now.

As I am the birthday girl, I started the game by choosing truth. But I could really have just voluntarily confessed my feelings for Alex. Because Grace winked at me and I knew at that moment, that the next few minutes meant trouble.

"So, y/n. Describe us your magical boy, that you dream of being able to call your own." I knew it. She could have just asked me what college I wanted to attend or something less embarrassing, but no. She needed to ask me about my type in boys, which obviously is my handsome, brown haired best friend next to me.

As I'm about to hide my head in my hands, I hear the encouraging shouts of the people I call my friends.

"Okay, okay. Let me think for a moment." I couldnt make it that obvious, I liked him. But still, it was worth a try.

"Someone who has an angelic smile, where you just stare at his face and can´t stop looking at him. I-I like brown hair and I dont know, what it is, but hazel eyes, they somehow make my heart beat faster. I mean- he´s attractive, because he is a gentleman. Caring and supportive, someone who listens to my wants and needs, but still continues to be his true self. I can read books with him or we watch movies together and talk about it after. He makes me feel seen, safe. I love him, because he is everything I could ever dream of and more."

When I finish speaking, Grace grins innocent and looks at me with her long eyelashes. "I wonder, who that could be."

My eyes secretly dart to Alex, trying to figure out, if he knows, that I am very obviously describing him. But he just watches the floor, his eyebrows are drawn together and I almost think, he looks annoyed.

"Someone is jealous" I hear Skylar´s voice in my ear.

As the game went on, his behavior kept being slightly off, even though he never said anything about it and continued to smile at me, when we looked at each other.

And then, Alex was asked about his favorite memory, whether it was about being in school, with family or with friends.

Well, he told them about the first time, he introduced me to his favorite book saga, the Lord of the Rings. I never knew, that day was so special for him, but as he described my hilarious reactions and facial features, how he saw my eyes widen with disbelief as he read out the first chapters, I remembered.

When I look back, it really was a wonderful night. We did a sleepover at his house and were talking about watching Harry Potter or The Lord of the Rings. Somehow, we also talked about the books and that I read the seven books about the famous wizard and he the books about the elves and other creatures (don´t judge me for this description). We discussed almost every aspect, but he still convinced me to give his favorite books a try. So we spent the night spread out on his bed, eating sweets and reading the first book. Well, he mostly read it out loud to me, because his pronunciation was definitely much better than mine. It was fun, also because I got to watch him being in his element, so it really was a heartwarming evening.

I smile at the memory, a warm feeling blooms in my chest and when he finishes talking about it, he looks at me fondly. I had to keep myself from wanting to giggle like a little girl, but my inner 13-year old, most definitely did giggle.

Back to the original topic. Next, Grace was dared to wear one of my clothes, Kiley told us about her celebrity crush (Timothee Chalamet, but you didnt hear it from me) and when Alex was asked who he would trust with his secret, if he was spiderman, he mentioned me again. It was sweet and I had planned to tell him, that I would love to be the girl in the chair.

But, as the game went on, my name constantly fell from his lips. He was dared to show one of the most terrible photos of him and revealed to the group, a snapshot from us, wearing unrecognizable Halloween costumes. Funny, but my idea to go as ghosts wasnt that bad.

Nevertheless, he talked about the best gift he had ever received, a pair of cowboy boots, I got him two years ago (Nathan was playfully annoyed that one of his presents werent the best one) and as the game continued, the question, that I tried my best to avoid, was eventually asked.

"You two are always around each other and I've barely seen you apart, like ever. Are you sure, there is nothing going on between you? It seems like it."

Alex and I looked at each other, but then quickly laughed it off. It was what we always did, when someone asked us about our close friendship. None of us really answered and that meant for me, that he neither confirmed or declined having feelings for me. Very confusing and bad for my hoping heart.

So, when our friends are looking at each other now, grinning like they planned something really wicked, I know, that my personal hell is waiting for me. Or in my situation, a modified version of heaven.

"Y/n, I dare you to play seven minutes in heaven with just your best friend Alex." Grace is smiling in front of me and when I want to debate about it, she cuts me off.

"But I havent said I would take dare-" my words are going silent and I only hear my pounding heart.

"You always choose truth, that´s boring. You get the dare now, so stand up and cuddle with your wizard!"

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Alex holds his hands out for me, so he can help me stand up. He silently looks at me and I try to assure him by smiling, but I think I´m failing at it. Because he looks as unnerved as I feel right now.

When we walk out of the room and into the small storage room, we hear Skylar´s distance shouting.

"No lights and close the door! That are the rules, we set the timer!"

Why was I friends with them again?

When we approach the room, unlocking the door and stepping inside, we are suddenly surrounded by darkness. And when he closes my only way to escape, its quiet for a moment. Then, I hear is curious voice.

"What did Grace mean about your wizard?"

I relax and gently laugh. Nothing has to happen, everything is fine.

"That you are as bad at keeping secrets than Draco. Harry really found out on the first day in 6th grade, that something was clearly up with him."

Alex groans. "Please no more talking about your Drarry shipping. I get it, it could have been an enemies-to-lovers romance."

I smack his arm, taking a step closer to him.

"Okay, what would you like to talk about instead?"

I can make out the outlines of his face in the darkness, seeing how he also takes a step closer. I feel myself breathing heavily and my hands nervously shaking.

"I think, that I should keep you warm, because I literally see your hands shaking." When he takes another step in my direction, I hold my breath and in the same second, I feel his arms wrap around me.

His hands find their way to my back, embracing me in his warmth until I feel him breathing on my neck. I need to stop myself from shivering at this feeling.

"I can work with that." I whisper, snuggling into his chest and closing my eyes. I hear his racing heart and immediately need to smile.

"Your heart is beating very fast." His chin rests on my head, I feel him holding me closer.

"It´s the darkness." Of course, it is.

When I also close my arms around his waist, I feel for the first time a kind of inner peace, that I read about in books.

When a character feels safe in the embrace of their beloved.

Silence surrounds us for a minute and I begin to thank Grace for her dare, because him holding me in his arms und me, hugging him, is much more than wonderful.

"When you call me a wizard, do I get to call you a witch?" I burst out a laughter at his question.

"Only if you won´t compare me to Umbridge." He nods quietly.

"You are as far away from being like Umbridge as the earth is away from the moon. So, you don´t have to worry."

"Good." We are silent again.

"So, have you ever thought about what you would do, if you would get to spent time with a person, when you have seven minutes in heaven?" I think for a few seconds, before I answer him.

"I always imaged this game as a way to confess feelings or solving a fight. Maybe a hidden chance to make out too, I guess."

I hear him taking a deep breath, not expecting much. Until-

"Can I kiss you?" My knees almost give out.

"You what-?" I turn to look at him. Noticing his widen pupils.

"I mean, would you, um, want to kiss. Like, me. Now. Not that you need to, but you sounded like you would want that experience, so-" he tries to hold a stable voice, but I can sense, that he's slowly freaking out.

"Alex. You just asked me, if we should kiss."

I can´t believe it.

"...yes?" He sounds so sincere.

"Why?" I ask, while continue to look at him, feeling every centimeter that divides our lips from touching.

"Like I said, I don´t want you to miss out on anything."

Silence.

"Okay and maybe I just wanted an excuse to kiss you, before that dream boy of yours does."

I lean forward, watching as his eyes keep looking at my lips, even though he tries to hold the eye contact.

I slowly raise my hand and place it on the back of his neck, caressing the dark hair and twirling a few strands.

"Are you jealous, pretty boy?" I feel his cheeks getting warm, seeing the effect my words have on him.

His hands hold me tighter and a startled expression is shown on his face.

"What? Me, jealous? No." I raise my eyebrows at him.

He signs. "Maybe. I dont like the thought of someone else with you." His thumb brushes over my lips.

"Kissing you, touching you. It just doesnt feel right, that someone else would do that."

"You mean, someone who isnt you?" I look at his lips and he hums quietly. His hand slowly wanders to my chin and directs my head closer to him, I can feel his breath on my skin.

"We don´t have to do it-" I begin to talk, but then again, when he speaks up, his voice sounds out of breath, like he's holding himself back.

"No, it´s just one...little...kiss" his voice becomes quieter, the less distance there is between our faces.

And with one, last look, he catches my lips in a slow kiss. Keeping me close to him, by holding onto my waist. His hands find their way to my cheeks, caressing them with his fingers and I feel my heart pounding as prominent against my chest as feel him kissing me.

I don't notice, that he's directing me back until I gently hit the wall, while his hands slowly explore my sides. My hands tangle in his hair, tugging him closer, so I can feel everything of him.

And in that moment, I understand the name of the game. Because this truly feels like heaven.

When I notice, that I can´t breath anymore (but who needs oxygen when you can have Alex Walter), we gently break apart. Still holding onto each other.

And as soon as we catch our breath, both of us are smiling at each other and we share our feelings without a word.

"That was-" he doesnt get to finish his sentence, because in a blink of an eye, the door opens and brightness consumes us.

We quickly break apart, but apparently too late, because Grace´s voice is the first one to tease us.

"Right, you are just friends."

You can imagine, what the entire evening after that was like...

[capuccinodoll]

The Dream

Before the sun hits (chapter three)

Summary: Joel takes a trip to your dreams, and it doesn't take long for you to let him know.

Warning: this chapter contains smut!

DECEMBER 19TH

With your coffee cup half-finished, you found yourself sitting across from your mother in what was probably the coziest place in town. Café Ophelia seemed like a love letter to the classic and romantic. It was located on the main avenue, and its charm was impossible to ignore. People came and went constantly, carrying red and brown paper bags filled with delicacies, while many held disposable coffee cups in their gloved hands. Seasonal flowers and plants adorned the place, survivors of the relentless cold outside, remaining vibrant in every nook and cranny. 

To the left, an entire wall was covered with books, arranged in a built-in library. When you walked through the door, your mother told you that the café had originally belonged to one of her high school teachers, and that after his passing, his younger brother had inherited the place without altering its essence. There was something about the place that made it feel as if time had stood still, as if it were a warm haven where one could hide from outside life. 

You walked past the shelves, your fingers brushing the worn covers of the books. You spotted editions of Shakespeare, Keats, Chaucer and were even surprised to find a copy of Bocaccio. There was a moment when you thought about grabbing one, but you restrained yourself. The aroma of coffee and soft conversations filled the air, creating an atmosphere of comfort that was hard to leave.

Now, your mother was just finishing narrating an anecdote about how she had met your father, right on that very same street, decades before.  

“It was instantaneous,” she said, her gaze lost somewhere near the ceiling. “I don't know if I could call it love at first sight, it was more like something else. Like something shook both of us at once.”

A smile broke out on your face. You always admired the love between your parents, it seemed to be such a perfect thing, as if they were meant for each other. In your case, you never felt something so strong, so definite. It wasn't for lack of trying, you just had never experienced that kind of connection, never.

“You see people every day, unfamiliar faces that don't tell you anything, they're just there. But when I saw your father, it was different. It was as if my body needed a moment to process it. Our eyes met and something inside me knew that, from that instant on, things would no longer be the same,” she continued. “After that, I just hoped to see him again, but I didn't have the courage to say anything to him.”

“And how was it that you saw him again?” you asked, although you already knew the story well. However, there was something special in the way your mother told it, a light in her eyes that made every time you heard it feel like the first.

“The next day I opened the bookstore, waiting for him to return. I thought, well, if he felt the same way I did, he has to come back. And he did. He came in, asked me what my favorite book was, and bought it. Then, he told me that he would stay in town for another week and asked me to help him with his reading.”

And she did. They spent that week seeing each other every day. At first, reading together; at the end, well, not so much. You never knew if your father had finished reading that book, though most likely he did. It was your mother's favorite, and it all had deep meaning for him. 

“I think there's something very intimate about sharing a book with someone,” your mother commented, turning her gaze back to you. “It's like showing that person a very vulnerable part of yourself. What we read says a lot about who we are. And when you share that, when you invite someone into that space, it's like you're sharing a part of your soul.”

You thought about the books you had lent Liam. Crime and Punishment, The Divine Comedy, Persuasion, and the Kafka diaries. He never returned them to you, and you were certain that he hadn't even opened them. He asked for them every time you mentioned them to him, as if he was interested, but he always remained in the promise of maybe someday getting to know that side of you. But that day never came.

“What are you guys doing tomorrow?” your mother's voice softly broke into your thoughts, distracting you. 

“I'm not sure, what would you like to do?”

“I meant you and Joel. I was thinking you could go to the movies or do something together. He could use that to clear his head a little. He's not having a very good time.”

The last thing caught your attention more than you expected. He's not having a good time? But first, that surprised you in a different way.

“Me and Joel?” you asked, somewhat puzzled.

“Didn't your father tell you?” Your mother looked at you waiting for an answer, and when you shook your head in the negative, she continued, ”We're going to dinner at the restaurant where we had our first date. We met around this time, don't you remember?”

Of course you remembered. You just forgot to make that connection.

“Are you celebrating something? I didn't know it was a special occasion, if I had, I wouldn't have come...and I'm sure Joel wouldn't either.”

“No, honey. It was always a family trip, we planned it that way. We just thought it would be nice to recreate that moment.” Her tone was soft but clear. “Your father and I wanted you to come. We've missed you so much, did you know that? And Joel was invited the same way, too.”

“I missed you guys too, though maybe I didn't say it as much.” You felt a small twinge of guilt in your chest, but you quickly brushed it away. “Besides, I'm really enjoying Canmore.”

“I know, who knows? Maybe you'll find someone special around here, too.” 

You laughed, though you felt a slight cringe at the idea. “I'm not so sure about that,” you replied, noting a reluctance in your voice.

Your mother placed both hands on the table and stared at you, as if she had just heard the silliest thing.

“I think it's about time you put that boy you were hanging out with behind you.”

Her words sounded harsher than she probably intended. She didn't know everything; well, you told her Liam was just a guy you were casually dating and that, by mutual agreement, you stopped seeing each other. You didn't mentioned the betrayal, nor the sudden engagement. Your mother wouldn't have stood for that truth. She would have jumped on the first plane to New York on the look for him, and then, maybe after a little cry on her shoulder... Yes, she would be mad at you.

“I'm over it,” you lied, as if it were the obvious thing to do. ”It just doesn't make sense to fall in love in Canmore if I have to leave in a few days."

“Think about this: your father, who is from Austin, and I, from Canmore, fell in love. Things worked out later.”

You laughed, with your mother's simple solution floating in the air. For her, everything had been easier. When she met your father, she had no family in Canmore; her parents had passed away when she was a teenager, and there were no more ties to bind her to the place. Moving to another country with the man she loved made the most sense.

“I could bring my love to Austin,” you joked. “Just like Dad did.”

“No New York?” 

The question was innocent, almost naïve. But you stayed quiet, feeling the guilt creep back into you, infiltrating the serenity you had managed to find.

“Yes, maybe to New York too.”

The silence that followed was comfortable, both of you finishing your hot drinks, letting yourself be enveloped by the tranquility of the coffee.

Before leaving, you ran your fingers through the old books in the library. An edition of The Decameron caught your eye, probably from the 1920s. The pages were yellowed, and the smell of aged paper made your nose itch. Between the lines, you could see annotations made in pencil by some unknown reader. You leaned over to read some notes in the foreword, but your mother interrupted you.

“Your father and Joel are a couple of blocks away, what do you say we go shopping and then find a nice place for dinner?”

You nodded, but Joel's name kept hanging around in your mind, dragging with it that phrase you couldn't stop thinking.

He's not having a good time.

*

The market stretched the length of the avenue, with vendors lined up under colorful awnings, offering sweets and homemade foods that filled the air with a warm, spicy aroma. Local stores were beginning to turn off their lights, preparing to close as the sun slowly descended on the horizon, tinting the sky in shades of pink and orange. It was close to seven o'clock in the evening, the cool air was beginning to settle over the town.

Your dad appeared down the sidewalk with a smile lighting up his face, patting Joel's arm playfully. Joel returned a look that was somewhere between amused and distracted, while their conversation died down as the two of them approached you.

“My precious girls, how was your afternoon?” your father greeted enthusiastically, coming over to plant a kiss on your cheek before leaning in to kiss your mother on the lips. You could tell he was in a good, relaxed mood.

“It's been wonderful,” your mother replied with a smile that reflected her own satisfaction. “What about you guys?”

Your eyes found Joel, who was now standing in front of you, avoiding your gaze with a somewhat suspicious concentration on anything but your face. His indifference seemed calculated to you, and you took the opportunity to study him in more detail. He had his hands tucked into the pockets of his black jacket, and the scent of his perfume wafted up to you, soft but noticeable. You were surprised by it, just a little: you had never noticed him wearing perfume. Not even for that formal dinner at your house.

Perfume for going out to a bar? That idea left you with a funny feeling.

“We needed something like that, didn't we, Joel?” your dad said, giving his friend a knowing nudge.

“Like you have no idea,” Joel muttered, his tone drier than usual.

“I can think of something delicious for dinner tonight...” your mother began to say as she latched onto your father's arm and began to walk, leaving the conversation to flow just between them. Joel and you were left behind, in an awkward silence that you could almost touch.

You stuck your hands in your coat pockets, mimicking him. There was something in the air, something between you that you couldn't quite identify, but you felt it clearly. Maybe it was what your mother had mentioned earlier, that something that had him uneasy. The beers he'd probably had at the bar might have loosened the emotions he was carrying around. Or maybe... no, you didn't want to think about that second possibility.

After his visit to your room, you hadn't seen him again until now. He and your father left to the bar before you and your mother left the house, so you hadn't had a chance to notice if anything was different. But a few hours ago, when he stood in your doorway, looking at you... He had to have sensed the change in your voice, the way your eyes looked at him. He couldn't have missed it. And now, you felt slightly guilty about it.

Joel, one of your father's best friends, who had listened to you and supported you in a vulnerable moment, did you really need to insinuate yourself, however subtly? Probably not. But it wasn't something planned either. It was something that came up in that moment, something you couldn't control. And you'd always been told that your eyes couldn't lie.

Maybe he was uncomfortable because of it. You wish he wasn't.

“What would you like for dinner?” you asked, trying to break the silence. Up ahead, your parents were still immersed in their own conversation, oblivious to what was going on between you.

Joel let out a sigh that condensed into the cold air. “I don't know, something hot.”

“What's on your mind?” you insisted, trying to keep the dialogue going.

Finally, he turned to you with a quick, impatient glance, brow barely furrowed before averting his gaze again.

“Pasta.”

“Pasta sounds good,” you nodded, waiting for him to continue. “What kind of pasta?”

His lips tightened for a second, his jaw ticking briefly before he loosened his expression and looked at you again, this time longer.

“Which type of pasta do you prefer?” 

“Bolognese,” you said without hesitation.

“Well,” he replied, somewhat curtly, ”that one then.”

He looked straight ahead again. Clearly, something was bothering him. You could sense it in the way he avoided looking at you, and when he did, it was with a kind of reproach in his eyes, as if he had something to say to you but couldn't find the words. It was almost as if he was angry.

“Joel,” you mentioned in a soft, slightly guarded tone of voice, ”can I ask you a question?”

“I have a feeling I don't have a choice,” he replied, his tone sarcastic and disinterested, but not loud enough for your parents to hear. They were still walking a few feet ahead, your father looking a little drunk, but just enough for happiness to overwhelm him. Your mother listened attentively, laughing from time to time, absorbed in her own world.

You looked back at Joel. His comment, though predictable, bothered you a little. 

“You could just say no, next time.” Your voice came out harsher than you had planned, not disguising your irritation.

You quickened your pace, trying to join your parents and get away from him. But Joel, with his long strides, caught up with you easily. He moved a little closer, close enough that you didn't have to raise your voice much when he asked:

“What's your question, then?”

“I don't have anything to ask you anymore.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Doesn't sound like it.”

“It doesn't?”

“That's what I said.”

“Whatever. You clearly don't feel like talking. So no, I don't have any more questions to ask you.”

Joel let out a low, somewhat mocking laugh, pulling away just inches. He didn't say anything else, which, oddly enough, irritated you even more. His silence letting you know that he was in control of the situation, and that made you feel like a wayward child, even if it bothered you to admit it.

“What's funny, Joel?” you said after a while, a belated and overthought response.

“Does it make you mad that I don't feel like talking to you?” he replied, a faint, almost undetectable smile forming on his face.

Your mind couldn't help but focus on the way he decided to phrase the sentence. He could have simply said “are you mad that I don't feel like talking?” but chose to add a with you, and it hadn't sounded random at all. You didn't know what that meant. Maybe you were overanalyzing it. Maybe you were.

“No, it angers me that you're not clear. I'm a grown woman, you know? I don't need you to act like you're talking to a chatty little girl,” your voice spoke firmly. “Just say you're not in the mood to talk and I won't bother you anymore.”

“I don't mind you talking to me,” he clarified, coming back up to your level; the scent of his perfume hitting you again. “Why do you think that?”

Several reasons, you thought. From his perspective, you were his best friend's daughter, the one who, almost without knowing him, forced him into a bathroom to listen to you cry and complain about your sorry life. Oh, you did it in the cabin that morning, too, with him looking at you pityingly, following you to your room to ask how you were doing. 

What an idiot. You sure had misunderstood everything. Joel was just concerned, surely from his place as what he was; your father's best friend, father of a female daughter, Sarah. 

You felt a little foolish for having diverted your thoughts that way. And worst of all, he had surely realized it. That was humiliating. 

“Because you don't have to, Joel,” you spoke almost in a whiny whisper. “I've bothered you enough by telling you my problems. I sure have looked like a stupid little girl, crying in the bathroom, making you promise things you don't have to. It's embarrassing.”

“It's not like that,” he began to say, his voice tinged with something akin to dismay. “And you're not stupid, much less a little girl. That much is clear to me.” 

“Sometimes it feels like that. A lot of times, lately.”

“Well,” he uttered at length, his eyes meeting yours and you noticed he was searching for words to say, ”if it makes you feel any better, I think you're a grown woman who knows exactly what she's doing, and what it's causing.”

There it was. Right there, in Joel's eyes, the proof that you hadn't imagined it. Or would you be misinterpreting his words? The idea sounded far-fetched. 

Joel smiled as if he knew exactly what he had just done, and without warning, he moved a few inches away from you, closer to your parents.

Your cheeks must have flushed, the heat on your face told.  

You hurriedly covered those few centimeters that distanced you from him and opened your mouth, ready to let out a meaningless retort. But just then, your mother turned, drawing your attention. The spell was suddenly broken.

To your luck (or bad luck) at dinner, he didn't sit across from you.

*

You arrived at the cabin around ten o'clock at night. Your parents, completely in their own world, had spent the time dragging Joel through a review of the last few years; “Remember this?”, “Remember that time when we...?”, “What happened to her, Joel?”. Most of the questions asked in an amusing way, some a little somber. But Joel had enjoyed it, or so you had gathered, for he had answered and extolled each of your father's anecdotes. 

Your gazes met from time to time, but the exchange was brief; as if you were doing something on the sly, as if no one could know you were looking at each other. And that was kinda the case. He would glance at you while one of your parents was talking, and just when you noticed and mimicked him, his gaze would drop to his plate, or to anything but you. 

For your part, you had eaten almost silently, listening attentively to everything that was said at the table. Everything was simpler if no one was asking you uncomfortable questions. 

Now, back at the cabin, your parents were laughing merrily in the kitchen as they reviewed the entire day and uncorked a bottle of merlot.

You plopped down on the living room couch and checked your phone as the background conversation revolved around a former schoolmate your mother had run into today while you two were shopping. It had been a somewhat awkward encounter, the kind where you don't know how to say goodbye without sounding completely avoidant. He told her he had two children and was in the middle of a divorce, and your mother made the big mistake of asking him a question about it. It held you up for thirty minutes. 

You had nothing interesting in your incoming texts, nor in your outgoing ones. Liam... you didn't check his profile and it wasn't like you could know either; you blocked him. Ally would be very happy about that. But curiosity stalked you gently.

The weight falling next to you took your eyes off the small screen. Joel had sat to your right, a safe distance away. His body relaxed, his broad frame stretched nonchalantly....

“Would you like a glass of wine, Miller?” your father asked, craning his neck from the kitchen island.

 

“M' fine. I think I'll go to bed,” he said with both palms pressed to his eyes, ”enough for today.”

“What about you, my love?” your mother's voice echoed through the wide space of the cabin. 

“I could make use of it,” you joked, joke masked for all of them.

You got up and walked to the kitchen, where your mother extended the full cup in just the right way. 

You didn't make too much conversation either. The talk between them was interesting enough that you were just listening to their voices. That was something you had always liked about your parents; their conversations were dynamic and fun, always. Every single thing they talked about turned into the coolest thing in the world, as if they were your own audiobook, always with something entertaining to say. 

When you were a child, you would lie in the middle of them in bed, listening to them talk about different things; movies, gossip, novels, whatever. They used to say you were nosy, and maybe that was true from time to time. 

Joel was still on the couch, only now a faint sound was coming out of his mouth. Soft tired snores were moving his chest up and down. You watched him from your spot until you finished your drink and your eyes felt heavy and stinging. You rubbed them for a while, until the action became futile.

“I'm going to bed,” you said to your parents. Your mother pulled you closer to her and rested your head on her chest. Your father, a little more affectionate, squeezed you in his arms in an exaggerated manner. 

“Wake him up,” he told you, almost in a whisper. 

You nodded and walked away from his side, leaving the empty cup in the sink before crossing the kitchen and heading towards the living room. You couldn't help but pause for a second in front of him, watching his face, the soft, relaxed lines of one who is sound asleep. His calm expression, so peaceful, almost fragile, awakened in you an unbearable tenderness. The dark locks, some already intermingled with gray, fell messily over his forehead, while his lips, still stained with the red wine from dinner, remained half-open, and the beard began to unalign, just a little. You felt a sudden impulse to touch him.

“Joel,” you whispered as your fingers sank gently but firmly into his arm. “Joel, wake up.”

He stirred barely, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning. A light laugh escaped your lips, small and private. Even asleep, Joel clung to that essence so much his own.

“Come on, Joel,” you repeated, this time with a little more intent in your voice.

You put your hand back on his arm and shook him gently. Finally, his heavy eyelids lifted with effort, and he straightened up, standing still for a few seconds, elbows resting on his knees, hands covering his face as he tried to clear his head. 

You stood by his side, silently, watching him sigh with visible fatigue. When he looked up and found you, you smiled at him, and he responded with a brief smile before looking back down at the floor. After a few seconds, he rose from the couch leisurely, glancing back towards the kitchen, where your parents were still chatting about something that was already irrelevant to you.

“See you tomorrow,” Joel muttered, approaching them and, as he passed you, heading for the stairs. You followed him, without much thought.

“See you, Joel. Get well,” you heard your father tease, his voice slurring as you walked after Joel up the stairs.

He was big. You'd always known he was big, of course, but now that you saw him from behind, his back moved with a particular cadence that gave you a curious mix of excitement and nervousness. The back of his neck, visible between the tufts of hair, seemed warm, inviting a caress or, perhaps, the brush of your lips. You caught yourself imagining it, wondering what it would be like to kiss that part of him, to kiss Joel.

You entered the hallway that led to your rooms, and the distance between you shortened almost unnoticed. Joel had his back turned, about to open the door to his room, when he turned to you with an expression on his face that you couldn't quite decipher.

“Your dad told me to take care of you tomorrow,” he commented, with a tone that made you smile.

“What a coincidence, my mom told me the same thing about you.”

He smiled too, and the gesture brightened his eyes, still heavy with sleep. “She said that?”

“Yes, that's what she said,” you reaffirmed, the smile still on your face.

“Sounds like them,” Joel murmured affectionately.

You let out a sigh you didn't even know you'd been holding in since the morning, a quiet but satisfying release. You nodded, resting your hand on your doorknob, mirroring his posture.

“Yeah, it does,” you said, finally, opening the door. “Good night, Joel.”

“Good night, sweetheart,” you heard him say, his voice low and soft, before he dissappeared as he entered his room.

You closed your door tighter than necessary, surprised by how much those simple words had affected you, by the echo of his voice reverberating in your mind. The way his eyes had closed slightly as he smiled kept replaying in your memory. Maybe it had been your parents' merlot or the malbec at dinner, but later, in the shower, you found yourself fighting the urge to drag his name with your fingertips across your entire body. You fought with the idea of giving him that space, that power, without him knowing, because if you did, you'd have to acknowledge what you'd been repressing since the first time you saw him (actually saw him) sitting on your parents' couch, watching you with those dark eyes that pierced you without even trying.

No. Joel Miller hadn't the slightest idea what he had brought upon you, but somehow, you thought, he would have to pay for it.

The last thing that crossed your mind before you fell asleep, was his name.

*

A soft sound woke you. A barely perceptible thump. You closed your eyes again, convinced it would be someone going to the bathroom. Probably your dad. But then, you felt him. His weight sinking the mattress slowly behind you, his body approaching with a familiarity that quickened your pulse. A warm hand slid around your waist, squeezing you gently, his fingers sneaking under the hem of your shirt. You lay still, feeling his breath brush against the back of your neck.

You turned your head, just enough to feel his lips touch your earlobe.

“Joel...” You tried to say, but your breath caught the words in your throat.

“What do you want, huh? Staring at me like that during dinner, with your parents right there. Did you think I wouldn't notice?” His voice, a warm whisper against your skin, made a liquid sensation form in your belly.

His hand moved away from your waist, slowly sliding down, just below your navel, pressing firmly against the soft flesh. You felt his body completely pressed against yours, his heat radiating into you. Your back wedged against his chest, your ass touching his hardness. You closed your eyes and his mouth found your neck, leaving small, scattered kisses across your sensitive skin.

A moan escaped your lips as his fingers reached your center, stroking your swollen clit in slow, circular motions, wrenching a devastating sensation from you.

“Joel, please,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

“What do you want, baby? Tell me. Use your words.”

Your teary eyes widened as you felt him slide a finger inside you, the rhythm of his hand increasing in intensity, making the sensation become unbearable. 

“Are you going to be a good girl and tell me what you want?” he insisted, as another finger was added, moving inside you with a precision that made you shudder.

“Fuck me, Joel. Please,” you managed to say in a weak voice, broken by urgency.

You felt him move behind you, and in an instant, his firm hand pulled down your underwear with a swiftness that took your breath away. He pulled you to him by the hips, his erection pressing against your lower back.

“Now, behave yourself and be quiet,” he murmured, caressing your thighs as he gently spread your legs. “Can you do that?”

A faint “yes” came out of your mouth as you pushed your ass towards him, seeking contact, with unfamiliar desperation. Joel placed his hand on your neck, squeezing gently as he pushed his erection inside you, each movement making you moan. But this time, the sound was caught by his hand, covering your lips.

“Quiet,” his voice, agitated and breathy, made you shiver. He pressed even harder against you, his thusts increasing in speed and depth. The sound of his hips crashing against yours became a heady melody, and your whole body felt like it was on the verge of exploding. 

His fingers in your mouth tasted of salt and yourself, and that turned you on even more. Joel gasped, the sound so intimate it made you throb inside, right where his body touched you with each thrust. The sensation became unbearable, more intense, until your legs shook with the built up tension.

You brought your hand to his, trying to hold on to something as your body convulsed in an orgasm that swept over you like an uncontrollable wave. Your hands clutched at the sheets, trying to process the tide of pleasure that washed through you.

The climax slowly subsided, and your eyes opened to find the room engulfed in darkness. Your thighs pressed together in an attempt to calm down, and your breathing hitched... It was still dark. 

The clock on your phone read three in the morning.

How had that been possible? Joel, in your dream, it was as if he had been there, beside you. You felt him, you had felt him. And it had been so much better than almost any of your real experiences. 

You were fucked, completely fucked. And, oh, God, how much you wished you were really fucked by Joel Miller. 

You sighed, sitting up in bed, your body still tender, your mind in chaos. Your mouth was dry, a thirst that only heightened the desire you'd been feeling. You turned on the lamp on the bedside table and reached under the bed for your slippers. 

As you stood up, you felt the wetness between your legs, testimony to the dream you had just had. You cursed Joel silently.

You stepped out into the hallway, your footsteps soft, and couldn't help but stare at his closed door. Just imagining he was on the other side sent an electric tingle through your belly. You decided to ignore it, forcing yourself not to think about it anymore, and walked down the stairs in silence.

When you got downstairs, you noticed the kitchen light still on and prayed it wasn't one of your parents. You walked cautiously, approaching the light, and saw him... Joel, leaning against the counter, a glass of water in his hand, the other resting in the pocket of his gray pants. His gaze was lost on the floor, his hair disheveled and his face showing the marks of recent sleep.

You thought about going back to your room, but then he saw you, startled.

“Jesus, you're quiet,” he said, ironically making you remember him  in your dream. “You scared me to death, what are you doing?”

“I need a glass of water,” you replied, approaching cautiously.

Joel moved, taking a glass out of the cabinet and setting it on the kitchen island. He opened the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of water and slowly pouring it into the glass. You watched him, and soon realized you were looking at him a little too obviously.

He handed you the glass and leaned back on the counter, his eyes fixed on you as you drank.

“Your cheeks are pink,” he observed, which only made them redden more. “Are you okay?”

Yeah, sure. I just dreamed you fucked me, nothing major.

“I... yeah, I'm fine. I had a dream...” you started to say, slowing down for some reason. Your eyes darted down and up his body, too obvious. For some reason, when it came to him, you couldn't shut up. 

Joel looked at you a little confused, reading your countenance, and an idea seemed to pop into his mind. 

“A strange dream,” you finished, trying to play it down, though you both knew there was much more behind those words.

“A strange dream?” he said, his voice groping for your reaction. “About what?”

“I'm not sure,” you replied as you approached the sink, setting the glass down with an almost careless gesture. As you walked past him, your hand brushed his, barely, a split second that made your skin electrify. “But it woke me up.”

Joel was watching you intently, but the confusion that used to be read on his face was gone. Now, it was something else. You moved a little closer, close enough to feel his warmth. Your fingers rested on the edge of the sink, right next to his, and instead of pulling away, you stood there, caught in the proximity.

“Did it woke you up?” he murmured, his voice deep, almost a whisper, as his eyes slowly descended to your lips. “Why?”

“Because I felt it. It was so real,” you confessed, fighting the disbelief of what you were about to admit. Everything in you screamed for you to stop, but you kept going. “So real, Joel, has that ever happened to you?”

His eyes darkened, as if your words had ignited something in him. The intensity of his gaze was crushing, and the air between you grew thick, charged. Your heart pounded with a force that surprised you, as if it were possible that he could hear the frantic rhythm of your pulsing, echoing in the small space of the cabin. An exquisite panic enveloped you, a strange mixture of desire and vertigo.

“Be more specific,” he murmured, his voice rough, charged with the same tension that lit his gaze.

A smile, small and defiant, began to creep onto your lips as you prepared to follow. You couldn't help yourself. Not with him.

“It felt as real as it does now, you and me, here,” you said slowly, savoring every word. “I could feel it: the touches, the whispers, the ragged breathing, the sweat, the taste...” His eyes wouldn't leave yours. “When I woke up, I could still feel it. I can be more specific, if you want.”

His scent enveloped you, something raw and visceral that called to you in an almost primal way. It wasn't the smell of perfume, but his, pure and authentic. As if everything about him was an invitation you found hard to refuse.

You noticed how he swallowed saliva, his lips parted for an instant. A lopsided smile appeared on his face, a gesture that made something in your stomach contract. Slowly, he tilted his head toward you, until his lips were inches from yours, and you felt his warm breath caressing you.

“No,” he said in a whisper, his words barely grazing your mouth. “I can picture it perfectly.”

“I know you can.”

A chuckle caught in his throat, and he turned away from you only long enough to shake his head gently, as if he were trying to resist something. But not for long. As soon as he looked at you again, his gaze swept over your face, from your eyes to your mouth, and kept moving down, lingering on every inch of you, as if he was recording every detail in his memory. The slow, deliberate pace of his analysis made your knees go weak. The control you had felt in the conversation vanished in that instant, displaced by the intensity of his gaze, which now completely dominated the situation.

“You must be exhausted,” he finally said, his voice low and steady, eyes meeting yours again. “Go back to bed, sweetheart. It's going to be a long day tomorrow.”

Unconsciously, you ran your tongue over your lips, and nodded, obediently, almost without thinking. Something in his expression showed he was satisfied with your answer.

“Sleep well, Joel,” you murmured, slowly peeling yourself off the kitchen counter, your steps heavier than usual as you walked away.

When you reached the stairs, you almost swore you heard him sigh, a soft echo echoing in the stillness of the night.

[natsgrave]

TOLERATE IT | elizabeth olsen

while you were out building other worlds, where was i? you assume i'm fine, but what would you do if i break free and leave us in ruins? ( story inspired by @taylorswift song bcs i love her sm ) i'm not sure if someone else already wrote something like this or what, but if you see a story quite similar to this, let me know so i could give them a proper credit. thankyou!! ( colored wording would be the lyrics ) i do not give permission for my work to be copied or translated on other sites. plagiarism is a crime!! masterlist whispers of heartache m.list

Y/N'S POV Lizzie and I had been together for five years. We met in college, fell deeply in love, and spent countless nights talking about our dreams and aspirations. We were each other's rock, supporting each other through thick and thin.

But how can a perfect relationship turn into a toxic one where we barely talk anymore?

I sit and watch you reading with your head low

I don't know what happened. I don't know how to fix it, it that I didn't even know exist. One second we were fine then the next, we're like strangers.

All I could do is sit here and watch her read the script for her new movie. Reading with her head low and sitting far away from me, almost as if I have a disease. As if there's an invisible wall between us.

We would always sit in silence, her pretending to watch TV or read books, but the tension between us was palpable. I know she could feel my eyes on her, but she never spared me a glance. It was as if she was avoiding me intentionally.

Minutes ticked by, and I decided to make her food. After making anchovy, I gently touch her on the shoulder. She jumped, startled, and looked up to find me standing next to her, holding out a plate.

"I made you your favorite," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "Anchovy toast."

Lizzie took the plate from my hand, "Thank you." she replied before looking back at the script once again.

I simply nodded and sat down where I originally sitting, and focused on my own hands folded in my lap with a sigh.

I wake and watch you breathing with your eyes close. I sit and watch you, I notice everything you do or don't do, you're so much older and wiser

I woke up around five in the morning, the sun hadn't completely risen yet, but the little lighting shone through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. My gaze fell upon my girlfriend, who lay beside me sleeping lightly. The rise and fall of her chest matched the rhythm of her breathing, a calming sight that used to bring me comfort.

As I lay in bed, I couldn't help but watch my partner, Lizzie, sleeping peacefully beside me. I stayed there, watching her for a moment and appreciate the sight before me. But despite the serenity of the scene, I still felt a pang of sadness in my heart.

Lizzie had always been a restless sleeper, constantly shifting positions throughout the night and sometimes even talking in her sleep. But tonight, she was lying completely still, her face calm and relaxed. If someone saw it, they would instantly let it go and think that she's in a deep slumber but I'm not just someone.

I know the truth.

She was pretending to be asleep and it felt like she didn't want to wake up beside me, like she is simply tolerating my presence.

I wait by the door like I'm just a kid, use my best colors for your portrait

They were small things I did for her, but meaningful nonetheless. Always wait by the door every day to greet her, to offer and show her some love and comfort after a hard day at work. I would always stand there, gazing out into the evening sky, hoping to catch a glimpse of my lover making her way home from work. It didn't matter what time it was, or how tired I am after a long day, I always made sure to be there, waiting for Lizzie.

I even took painting classes as it seemed to ease my mind. I poured all of my emotions into my painting, using every color in the palette to capture the beauty of Lizzie's face. I spent hours each day working on the portrait, trying to convey the depth of my feelings for her and I'd use my best colors for her portraits.

Lay the table with the fancy shit, and watch you tolerate it

I had always been a perfectionist when it comes to cooking and entertaining. I would always spent hours in the kitchen, preparing elaborate meals and setting beautiful tables for my lover. I would carefully select the finest ingredients, meticulously prepare each dish, and arrange the table with exquisite linens, flowers, and candles.

I'd make her favorite dishes, lay the table with best cutlery and yet again, no matter how hard I tried, she never seemed to appreciate my efforts. All Lizzie gave back were strained smiles, small and almost whispered hums, and nods in acknowledgment of my attempts, and a whisper of "thanks," as she shoveled the food into her mouth, barely taking the time to taste or savor any of it.

she seemed to simply… tolerate it.

If it's all in my head tell me now, tell me I've got it wrong somehow

Despite my best efforts to communicate openly and honestly with Lizzie, I felt like she wasn't really listening to me, and it made me feel invisible. I began to wonder if I was overthinking everything, if maybe I was the one who was misinterpreting our interactions. Maybe I was being too sensitive, too needy.

Maybe I was the one who was crazy, paranoid.

I felt so alone, so lost, and so unsure of what to do.

I know my love should be celebrated, but you tolerate it

I began to feel like I was living in a dream world where everything I created was invisible to everyone else. It was as if I was speaking a language that nobody understood, except for my own echoes in mind.

"Liz," I said with a trembling voice, "I've been giving everything I have to make you happy, but it feels like you don't see or appreciate it anymore. I feel taken for granted."

My choice of words caught her off guard, she paused for a moment before responding. "Y/N, I never asked you to do all these things for me. I don't need grand gestures to feel loved, I thought you knew that."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Was this really what our relationship had become? A constant stream of argument and neglect?

Tears welled up in my eyes as I realized the disconnect between our expectations. I had been trying so hard to show her love in a way that I thought she would appreciate, but it had only pushed us further apart.

And it happen, I finally snapped.

I felt a surge of anger and frustration well up inside of me.

Why was I putting so much effort into something that seemed to bring her no joy? Why did I care so deeply about pleasing someone who didn't seem to care about me at all?

I knew, I couldn't keep living this way, constantly pouring my heart and soul into something that brought me nothing but pain and disappointment. I realized that no matter how much I gave, Lizzie would never truly reciprocate and still, I constantly yearn for someone who clearly did not want me.

With a heavy heart, I packed my bags. Our relationship had become toxic, with me constantly sacrificing myself for someone who didn't appreciate me. I knew it was time to leave, before I lost any more pieces of myself.

Before leaving, I took a one last look, the last thing I want to remember was the way Elizabeth used to laugh at my jokes, enjoy our food, take me out on dates. The last thing I want to remember was how she used to love my presence, and not just tolerate it.

Maybe one day someone would be enough to have their love celebrated by her.

[moonysunrulytoast]

situations that have happened in my friend group that are marauders coded part 2 (wolfstar edition):

(it’s new years day. remus got too pissed and threw up early in the night at a bar. sirius, also pissed but not to the point of vomiting, offers to accompany him home in an uber. on the way back to james’s apartment, remus is trying very hard not to throw up. he does. out the window though! no harm no foul. sirius helps remus walk to the apartment, as much as he can in his own state, and unlocks the door. at this point remus is back to talking. in fact, he’s talking a lot more than usual. the two of them move to the bathroom so remus can brush his teeth. when he’s done, sirius grabs him a glass of water, setting it down on the coffee table. the two of them immediately collapse onto the couch. remus ends up half in sirius’s lap but neither of them move. they stay there, even with the couch being abnormally large, and them not knowing each other very well this being their 3rd hangout. and their first time alone together. remus was regulus’s friend, they met at reg’s birthday party two months prior.)

*Sirius absentmindedly wraps his arms around remus’s waist and just… holds him. remus leans into it and makes a very light contented sound*

sirius: (a little slurred) sooo how’re you feeling?

*remus suddenly sits up, turns, and looks sirius directly in the eyes before speaking very quickly and earnestly*

remus: honestly??? better. loads better. eons better which is horrible because now i feel really guilty and embarrassed and ugh *remus turns around and lays back with his eyes closed, making a sound of frustration* i fucked up your new years. and that’s horrible like we just met and you lent me your books from your room on your birthday even though i barely knew you and now we’re here and now this is how you see me and-

sirius: oh love, stop. you’re freaking out.

*sirius absentmindedly rubs his hands up and down remus’s arms. once his breathing slows down, sirius starts drawing soothing circles on his skin*

sirius: first of all, my new years is far from fucked up. i spent the day day drinking with some of my best friends and my brother (one of my all time favorite activities) and now im here with you. you. you. you. who i enjoy being around. and!! i get to listen to you talk. which is a privilege by the way. i love conversations with you. and even if i didn’t (which again i very much do) it’s also very difficult for me to have a bad night. i love hanging out with myself - so the other person’s gotta be pretty bad for the vibe to be ruined.

remus: but i-

sirius: second of all, we’ve all been too drunk before and each have our own fair share of embarrassing stories. the last thing this group of people is going to do is judge you for a bad night. they happen to everyone.

remus: …really?

sirius: yes really! you absolute dork. you should hear some of the stuff IVE done. you’re a human being and you making ONE mistake doesn’t make you deplorable.

(remus nods slowly before zoning out for a few moments, deep in thought. sirius waits patiently.)

remus: you know, i’m really glad it was you who brought me home. i feel… safe with you. safer than i’ve felt before when something like this happens

sirius: that’s horrible. that you’ve felt unsafe. i’m happy i don’t make you feel that way.

remus: me too.

sirius: …you know, it’s funny, this is the longest we’ve ever talked one on one

remus: oh my god you’re right

(they both burst into laughter. after a few moments it dies down and the two of them are looking at each other. staring into each others eyes, both smiling. remus cocks his head very lightly to the side before going to speak again)

remus: (a little dreamy) you’re… you’re so…. you remind me of a book character. someone people write stories about.

*sirilus swallows harshly, his cheeks burning*

sirius: oh! well. thank you remus. that’s probably one of the kindest thing anyone’s ever said to me

remus: it’s true!! i would know. books are my favorite. and listening to you is like- it’s comforting and warm. just hearing you talk - did you know that? it’s like i always really want to know what comes next. i could never get tired of it.

sirius: i- um *sirius’s face is hot now and his heart is beating really fast. remus just smiles and pokes his nose* you’re like the moon

remus: what?

sirius: you’re so beautiful and bright. you have this kind, wise energy and you’re quiet but your presence isn’t. people see you, they notice you, and you change them. and you’re witty and funny and a little dark sometimes too. you’re like the moon remus. you’re like the moon.

remus: oh.

(just then james unlocks his front door and their friends pile through the entrance.)

james: SIRIUS

sirius: JAMES

(sirius scrambles up and they embrace each other fiercely)

james: oh how i’ve missed you

reg: it has been two and a half hours tops since you’ve seen each other

sirius: two and a half hours TOO LONG

remus: yeah

james: (quietly, to sirius) had you two…been there the whole time?

sirius: yes

james: okay… and he’s okay?

sirius: yeah :) he’s okay

james: oh good. that’s so so good. (he claps him on the shoulder and his eyes soften) and you? are you okay?

sirius: (looking over at remus and back at james) never better prongs

[alostshadowfromthestars]

"Hey Shadow..? What is your favorite memory with your family, before everything?"

' ' Before everything.. ' '

Shadow's glare softens. his expressions mix with a wordless argument over his emotions internally before his face relaxes into this melancholic expression. he crosses his arms over his chest fur and turns his head. it almost seems like he isn't going to answer until he does.

' ' I Have several favorite Memories of My family.. Maria specifically.. before Everything. It's so hard to pick one. My favorite memory would be meeting her for the first time.. but I want to share something more interesting than that. ' '

Shadow hums lowly. he looks back again, ears flicked forwards.

' ' Maria used to include me in everything she did when she was allowed to. even when we weren't allowed to. from sitting to stare at the stars together with a stolen key-badge.. to dancing.. to reading books and watching movies together. We were inseparable. ' '

Shadow's ears flick back. He turns to face away from the anon and closes his eyes, but he doesn't stop talking. he's reliving the moments. The memories were all he had left.

' ' I.. ' '

Shadow breathes out softly. he exhales a long sigh, clearly emotional but not the kind of dramatic sobbing you'd expect.

' ' My favorite memory.. The first time Maria called me her Brother. I was helping her with her homework, in exchange she would help me with mine. The professor saw no need to separate us, as it was causing me to improve towards his goal. one of the scientific educators put a stop to our homework aid, and said some things they shouldn't have. She defended me, stating that I was not the Freak but that I was her brother. I wont forget that day, nor will I forget every day I spent with my sister. down to the last minute. the last second. those last breaths. ' '

Shadow pins his ears back fully. with his back turned, you clearly cant see his face but with the subtle shakes- a few tears probably fell. with a soft sniffle to prove that correct, he rubs an arm over his eyes and turns to face you again with the briefest smile before it fades away back into his flat resting face.

' ' Thank you for asking.. ' '

[storkmuffin]

The Magic of San of Ateez (1/tbd)

#1: Fangirling San Is Intergenerational (a real life example)

During the unusually long Lunar New Year Holiday, 2025, I spent a lot of time, inevitably, with Family (not family, but Family, you get me?). And because I'd recently concluded that not being shit to women who like entirely harmless things with enthusiasm is actually really important feminist practice, I decided to 'come out' (sorry for appropriating the language but you'll see why I do it) about my interest in the Kpop Idol group Ateez.

I comandeered the remote, in other words. It was in a quiet moment after all the food had been cooked (by women) and eaten (by everyone) and the dishes done too (by women - not all families are like this but my Family is). Up until then what had been on the giant 8K flatscreen had been news, followed by old soccer clip compilations on some sports channel, followed by old fight compilations on another sports channel where really big barefoot men wearing only panties slip on each other's blood as they try to make the other one unconscious by punching him in the face, and back to news.

I turned on the below- Ice on My Teeth performed by Ateez for the MBC 가요대제전 2024.

Oh. My. Gosh. The. Comments.

The choicest one was this: "I suppose everyone has to do all the silly things at some point, inevitably, before they die? So if you were a good, smart teenager and you don't care at all about Idols and all that silly nonsense during that time, you do it later, when you're all grown up." (Derogatory) (Mocking)

The one I'd been expecting was this one, which also happened: "I have never understood those ridiculous 빠순이(derogatory) who follow 연예인 around and ruin their lives, and I never ever thought you'd ever be one of them!" Madam, I literally just put a video clip from youtube on, to watch, because a composer, multiple studio sound technicians, 8 singer/dancers, a choreographer, a dozen back up dancers, stage technicians, camera crew, a director and an editor put a show together for me to watch. Why are we talking about lives being ruined?

Sidebar- Etymology of 빠순이: I always thought that it was a neologism consisting of 오빠 + 순이 (kind of a common, girl next door name of a certain previous generation, like "Betty" or a "Jenny") and it is actually that. But the book by the ethnomusicoloist taught me that it had a second, sexually contempuous meaning: 바 (bar) + 순이 = barmaid + 순이 = whore + 순이. To be a fangirl stan means to be a woman who is expressing, in some way, desire, and in public, and this is shameful. By the by, 빠순이 has been appropriated again by the original set of people it was designed to harm, much like I understand queer to have been done by that community, definitely by millennials but possibly even before that.

The ethnomusicologist discussed having an 입덕부정기 (a period in which one denies that they have, in fact, joined a fandom) for her current most favorite band. She doesn't go into why as a person who studies music she had this internal block against actually liking music and performance but then again, I don't think she needs to say it. We know why.

So, just to be pissy, I put that shit on repeat, and then something really nice happened!

"This is a really fun song!" (yes it is!) And then! "Oh these boys have a really Korean way of singing!" (someone in her 70s). And I perked right up. What do you mean??? "It's just very Korean. They sound like they know our traditional music."

Cue me FREAKING OUT internally but very calmly saying, "You are probably right! Because they had a Chuseok show one time, where they were all making 전, and they just started singing 판소리 among themselves. it sounded practiced to me, too! And, a lot of the newer Kpop does this on purpose - they bring in pansori vocalizations and instrumentals and rhythms, because overseas fans really like it!" (I may have gotten less calm by the end of this.)

So, thus encouraged, I put on this: Killing Voice Ateez, where dance pop makers come out and sing acapella to prove that they can.

And immediately, San's voice popped out for someone. "He sounds like Steve Yoo 유승준!" she said, pointing. For her, this is the highest compliment anyone can give a Korean Idol singer. Such a pretty tone, such clarity, such emotional appeal!

Sidebar: Steve Yoo really did have a lovely voice. He wasn't a bad rapper either even though his stuff sounds so dated now (inevitably, perhaps, since he was active in the 1990s). And Steve Yoo has been entirely erased from all histories of Kpop. It was only after I heard his name in context of how much San sounds like him (clarity of tenor as well as the emotional resonance) that I realized this. Several of the books I read did abbreviated histories of Kpop and Korean pop music, and mentioned representative groups & individuals in successive 'generations' of Idols, some of whom I have never heard of, but Steve Yoo, who was a big huge deal, is so banished that they never mention him, even though he was such an immense star.

WELL IN THAT CASE I HAVE SOMETHING TO SHOW YOU.

His handsomness kind of went without comment beyond a nod of agreement, even though I prompted, because Idols are supposed to be handsome. But what seemed to grab attention was how 올바른 (proper) he seemed.

Responses: Well mannered, demure, well spoken, respectful.

Me: He's the son of a taekwondo 관장!* He's from 남해!

Sidebar: Getting Taekwondo to the status of an international sport and an official, long-standing part of the Olympics was a major national project leading up to the 1988 Olympics and beyond. They fortified what was already there to distill what we consider the best and most proper parts of our culture - being powerful and fit and fast, yes, but also elegant, refined, well-mannered and respectful. When you want to show a shorthand for a character going from like, being shady to a proper, upstanding member of society, you will have him get into street brawls at the start and end with him becoming a taekwondo instructor.

Responses: Ohhh!! He's a 경상도 boy?? OOOH. And he sings so well! His English pronunciation is so good!

And then, and I have no idea if this will actually translate into English, we had a good laugh about how even now, even though regional dialects, especially strong ones like Southern 경상도, are considered 'cool' because standard Seoul speech has taken over completely, people from my family's root region exhibit a 'change of voice' when they speak Seoul. You have to open up your throat to make 경상도 sounds - the volume goes up, the sound gets 'rounder' and 'bolder,' so when someone whose native speech pattern is 경상도 speaks Seoul Standard, they come off to fellow 경상도 speakers like they're being very cautious. We tend to find this both adorable and comical, in ourselves and each other. So we all cooed at him, whenever he was talking to Lee Mujin.

And see, this is the magic of San. He will do insane gyrations on stage, make the most arrogant sexy bad boy face you ever saw, but 70 something Korean grandmas will find his style of singing comfortingly familiar amidst all the imported African beats, and appreciate the purity and gentleness he's able to project. BLESS!

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

can you make one with matt murdock where they're good friends but one night they're drinking and having fun and then the reader kiss him but when they making out he ends up saying someone else name and the reader leaves, later on they talk and reader apologizes for misreading their relationship and continue to be friends but theres tension in it until bradley finally admits that he likes her and he try to make up for all the time lost

~Friends Don't Treat Me Like You Do~

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: none really, embarrassment?? Alcohol consumption, mentions of injuries (nothing major)

Genre: mostly fluff very minor angst

Summary: You've had a crush on your friend for a very long time and when you finally make your move it goes terribly wrong; And that's why friends should sleep in other beds // and friends shouldn't kiss me like you do ... // my friends won't love me like you - Friends by Ed Sheeran

A/N: I know it's a typo of some sort but it's sending me to the moon that the name Bradley is jus thrown into this ask cuz I can't even figure out what it's replacing lmaoooo anyway thank you for requesting! I hope you like it anon! :3 (also I didn't edit this plz be nice)

***

Your friendship with Matt Murdock is in some ways rather unconventional. You've been friends for many years, but these days most of your interactions consist of him stumbling over to your apartment at odd hours covered in bruises you don't ask about- not because you don't want to know but because you're pretty certain you've guessed it and you're not sure what acknowledging it would mean. So you don't ask, instead, you give him food, and tend to his wounds, and talk to him about whatever comes to mind until he inevitably falls asleep on your couch for a few hours and sneaks out early enough to go back to his place for his day job as a defense attorney with his two friends. Both of whom you'd consider friends- although not nearly as close as you are with Matt.

Tonight Matt's invited you over to his place. Apparently, he's been feeling a bit guilty that most of the time you've spent together in recent days has been just him coming over in the middle of the night. As if you'd ever actually be annoyed with taking care of your friend. Your friend you feel for more than he can ever know. Still, he insisted you come over for dinner so you did, he ordered your favorite from a takeout place near his place and now you're eating and drinking wine you brought along with you. Well, you're drinking wine, Matt's been helping himself to the beers filling his fridge.

"Whenever you come over I do all that talking Matty so today you can do the talking this time. Tell me what you've been getting up to lately." You tell him once you've covered asking each other how your day was.

"I don't do anything interesting y/n- I go to work, spend all day reading or writing lengthy opening statements or discussing things with Foggy and our clients until ungodly hours according to Karen. Sometimes they drag me out to Josie's but- there's really nothing I 'get up to' and you know that."

"Why do you do that?" You frown.

"What?"

"Make yourself seem so dull when you're not."

"Excuse me?"

"I've known you for a long time Matt and I can't think of single period of our lives where you had nothing interesting going on and yet you always talk about yourself as if you're the color beige personified. It's like you're worried that if people think you're too interesting they'll," you trail for a moment "find out something."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing in particular. You're just way more interesting than you want people to think. For some reason."

"And what about you?"

"What about me?"

"You're not exactly an open book either."

"You got something to ask me about Matty?"

"No." He shakes his head. You stare at him for a long moment.

"We should play a game!" You announce.

"I don't really- have games?" Matt says.

"There are tons of games that don't require having anything Matt we just have to pick one."

"Like what?"

"We can play 20 questions- the right way, last letter first letter, I'm not a fan of Ghost but we can do that too, or word replacement- to name a few."

"I'm- not familiar with those besides 20 questions?"

"Well, last letter first letter you pick a category and we name items except the last letter of one item has to be the first letter of the next one so like if we're naming office supplies and I say stapler you'd say something like ruler. And Ghost is a spelling game, kinda like hot potato meets Horse the basketball game- so like you take turns spelling a word and you don't wanna be the one who finishes the word- if you do then you get a letter from the word ghost- first person to finish ghost loses. And then word replacement is just a silly game where you pick a movie or show title and change one of the words to the silliest thing you can think of." You explain quickly.

"Let's do the title one. Requires the least amount of thinking and I don't have to compete with you." He says.

"Then I'll start. Fast and Constipated." You giggle.

"Fast and Constipated!?" Matt's laugh is incredulous.

"Yeah, fast and furious but not so fun."

"Okay um- John Tucker Must... Juggle."

"That's way less fun than him dying." You laugh.

"True."

"What a Chupacabra wants."

"Goats- obviously."

"Shut up." You giggle.

"Now you- resent me 2."

"Oh that's- why would you say that?" You chuckle.

"I dunno I'm too drunk to think of movies." He mutters.

"All I've got are rom-coms in my head and those titles are not nearly as fun to fuck with. Two weeks- paleontologist?" 

"Paleontologist!? What movie was that even supposed to be?"

"Two weeks notice. Duh."

"I don't think I know that one." He frowns.

"It's about a woman who ends up working as the PA for some rich businessman when she tries to protest something he's trying to build- I forget the details but he turns out to be a giant useless manchild and when he disrupts her personal life for something frivolous she tries to quit but somehow they fall in love or whatever. It's been a while since I've watched it honestly." You shrug.

"Rom-coms are such a curious collection of movies."

"True but that one is pretty average compared to some others I've seen."

"Do you watch a lot of them?"

"I like to laugh at them mostly." You say. "You know what's a weird one? The Notebook."

"Is that not like- a classic?"

"I mean yeah but like the guy gets the girl to go on a date with him by dangling off of a moving ferris wheel."

"And that works?"

"Somehow! I mean I guess she didn't wanna feel responsible for him dropping himself off the wheel in front of an audience but I dunno it seems like he was just looking for reasons to die in that movie." You explain. "Although I never finished that movie maybe he does die. Except then it wouldn't be a rom-com I guess. It would be more tragedy, like in the Shakespearean sense."

"You are always somewhere else." Matt laughs.

"Not always! Oh! I brought that CD you wanted to borrow. We should play it." You sit up suddenly and grab your backpack.

"Are you sure all you've had is that bottle of wine?" Matt asks sitting up slowly from where he's laying on the floor.

"Where's your player?" You ignore his question.

"Should be in the bookcase." He waves absentmindedly.

"Do you want another beer while I'm up?" You ask walking over to the radio to pop the CD.

"Nah. I'm good thanks." He says. Music fills the apartment, and you can't help but sing along to the upbeat tune from Matt's CD player. You dance, well mostly spin, around the apartment giggling as you go.

"Are you dancing?" Matt turns towards you with a smile on his face although you're not looking at him.

"Of course I am- I love this song. Do you wanna dance with me?" You ask walking towards him, still dancing but less now so you can get where you're going.

"No no- I'll leave the dancing to you." Matt says before you make it all the way over to where he's sitting on the floor.

"Suit yourself." You shrug but when you attempt to change directions you trip on your backpack still on the floor and go tumbling towards the ground. Matt moves quicker than you'd expect for a blind guy off several beers but his arms shoot out and yank you towards him before your head hits the hardwood.

"Careful y/n." He says softly as he settles you into his lap.

"Do I need to be if you're here?" You joke smiling at him as you toss your arms over his shoulders.

"Y/n-" Matt's tone is warning in a way only he could get away with using on you.

"Relax Matty, I know to look after myself." You say quietly. Matt frowns slightly as if he's going to protest, but you don't let him get the words out. Alcohol coursing through your system, you seize the opportunity of his closeness and kiss him before you can talk yourself out of it. Matt lets out a noise of surprise, he heard your heart rate spike sure but he couldn't have guessed this was why. His lips move against yours for a second before something catches his attention and he's gasping out a name. Except, it's not your name.

"Karen." He breathes and it reaches your ears like a bucket of ice water dumped on your head. You jerk back suddenly.

"Oh my god-" You say scrambling out of his lap. "I- I am so sorry. I'm gonna go." You grab your bag and b-line it for the exit before Matt can even get to his feet.

"H-hang on a second y/n I-"

"I'll- I'll see you around Matt." You force yourself to say before leaving his apartment. You feel sharper than the amount of wine you've had should allow as you walk the few blocks to your place. Only once you're back in the safety of your own home do you let yourself wallow over how absolutely embarrassing that was. You might have just ruined one of the most important relationships in your life only for him to call out for another girl. You stumble into the shower in hopes of washing away some of the embarrassment you feel, or at the very least distracting yourself enough that you can shelf it and get some sleep. You spend hours tossing and replaying the moment excruciatingly but eventually, exhausting wins out and you do fall asleep. The next couple of days you pretty much ignore Matt's calls and texts. You really bury yourself in work to avoid dwelling on that awful night but you know you can't dodge him forever. Evidently, two days is as much as Matt's willing to give you to do so because on day 3 of avoidance he comes knocking at your door late at night as he sometimes does.

"Look- I know you've been avoiding me and all but-"

"Whatever you're gonna say Matt no need. I'm sorry I overstepped, I- I totally misread things the other night but hey- alcohol will do that sometimes. I'm sorry. We're good though. I'm good. I just needed a minute to lick my wounds of embarrassment. Everything's fine. Come on let's see the damage tonight hm?" You lead him into your apartment ignoring the confused look on his face. You let yourself settle back into your routine with him, patching him up, giving him food, getting him up to speed on the last couple of days of your life, telling stories, and just talking until he falls asleep on your couch. You're determined to shake this stupid crush of yours off and go back to the way things have always been between you. And if you're gonna shake this crush step one is putting yourself out there. Which you do, and for the next few weeks you find yourself on dates almost every night. Tonight's date is going surprisingly well all things considered. He'd planned to take you somewhere that ended up being closed after a freak accident the other day that he didn't know about. It was around the corner from Josie's so you brought him here instead and the conversation has been well worth it- even in a place like this. The one downside is that it's Friday and Foggy and Karen usually drag Matt here for drinks on Friday. You had hoped they'd skip out on that tonight but you of course could only be so lucky. When the bell over the door rings and you turn to see Karen leading Matt into the bar with Foggy behind them you almost want to groan. Dating has been nice but seeing Karen and Matt so close is like picking a scab. You turn back to your date with a smile, intent on ignoring the trio, except of course it couldn't be that simple.

"Oh my gosh! Y/n! Hey!" Karen beams at you.

"Karen! Hi! Foggy, Matt, good to see you all." You smile.

"You didn't tell us you'd be here tonight." She says.

"Well I didn't plan on it otherwise of course I'd have let you know." You tell her. "James this is Karen and that's Foggy and Matt. They're friends of mine. They all work together we've- kind of crashed their spot tonight." You tell your date.

"Oh! Well, any friend of yours is a friend of mine. Nice to meet y'all." James shakes each of their hands. "Did you guys- wanna join us? Since it's pretty crowded in here you might not find another table."

"That's so nice of you James!" Karen says. Very nice indeed.

"I'll track down some chairs." Foggy says. You shift your seat closer to James to make room at the table since apparently they'll be joining you. You try not to pay too much attention to Matt's silence as everyone settles around the table.

"So y/n, you told James how we know you but you didn't mention how you know James. Are you guys work colleagues or something?"

"We have a mutual friend that set us up." James offers.

"Oh my gosh! We're crashing a date?! Why didn't you say so?" Karen shakes her head.

"No no no don't even worry about it, we've been here a couple of hours already. I invited you to sit with us so the night could go on." He says.

"Asking me, also would have worked." You smile.

"You guys are just the cutest." Karen sighs.

"I'm guessing this is a first date since- y/n's never mentioned you before." Matt says.

"It is. Not that I have to tell you about every guy I see." You say.

"You tell me everything." He scoffs.

"That's not true and even if it were that doesn't change the fact that I don't have to."

"So you keep things from me?"

"Am I missing something?" James chuckles.

"Matt and y/n have been friends since they were teenagers. They fight like they're siblings sometimes." Foggy explains.

"Sorry about that James. Matt's just-"

"Like a brother- I get it. I have siblings so I definitely know what it's like." He nods.

"Exactly." You smile.

"Like a brother." Matt quirks an eyebrow at you.

"As good a way as any to describe us." You nod. Matt hums and raises his glass to his lips without another word. The five of you sit and talk over drinks for another hour before you're ready to leave and James is happy to walk you out.

"I had a lot of fun tonight." He tells you.

"Even with the date crashers?" You ask with a goofy grimace.

"Heck yeah! Your friends are great." He laughs. "Next time I'll have my friends crash us. How about that?"

"Next time?"

"If you're willing. I'd really like to see you again."

"I- I'd like that." You nod.

"Cool. I'll- start coming up with second date ideas."

"Hopefully this time the place you pick doesn't impromptu have an incident." You laugh.

"I will quadruple check." He tells you. When you reach your block, but not your building, you stop and turn to him.

"Sounds good. I'll see you around James." You smile. He leans forward and kisses your cheek softly.

"Goodnight y/n." He says and walks away. You make it up to your apartment, kick off your shoes, and take a long shower. You enjoyed talking to James and you actually are interested in seeing him again for sure. Soon you're showered and pajamaed and pretty much ready for bed but before you can flop into it there's a knock at your door. Who could be knocking on your door right now? A quick check shows you it's Matt standing in your hallway.

"Matthew?" You open the door with a frown.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Well- right now I'm wondering what you're doing in my apartment."

"Like a brother to you?! Seriously? Last time I checked most people don't make out with their brothers."

"Depends on where you are I suppose." You shrug. "But regardless Matt that was a mistake we both know that." You shake your head.

"A mistake? Is that how you feel about it?"

"How I- I'm sorry did you forget calling out Karen's name while I was kissing you?! Cuz I've been trying to so if you've got tips to share on how that'd be great."

"Goddammit y/n." He sighs dropping his head.

"Matt you really should go. I know you worry or whatever but- James is, nice and it's late I'd like to go to bed."

"Screw James." Matt scoffs.

"Um- it was only our first date- you're skipping a few steps."

"That is not what I- it's like you do this on purpose."

"What are you doing here Matt?" You sigh. 

"I don't like you dating him. I don't like you dating anyone for that matter. How could you kiss me like that and just... move on like nothing?"

"I dunno it's pretty easy when you call me the wrong name." You say.

"That was not what you think."

"I'm sure."

"It wasn't y/n. I'm serious. I could-" Matt stops and lets out a breath. "I'm Daredevil." He says.

"I know." You nod.

"What? You know?"

"You come in here at the witching hour every few days covered in bruises Matt how many explanations could there possibly be for that?" You roll your eyes.

"You never asked."

"I figured you'd tell me when you were ready." You shrug. "Why tell me now?"

"Since I can't see- my other senses make up for the loss. They're like- very developed. I heard Karen scream somewhere in Hell's Kitchen, she sounded like she was in trouble that's- that's why I called out her name. I thought maybe one of Daredevil's many enemies managed to connect her to me. It wouldn't be the first time, I'm always listening for her and Foggy these days and I just-"

"Well was she in danger?" You ask.

"Nightmare." He mutters. "But by the time I pieced that together you were gone."

"Of course I was. Having a man say someone else's name when you kiss him is not something that encourages-" Matt cuts off your snarky remark by cupping your face in his hands and kissing you. You react quickly, kissing him back, your hands wrapping around his wrists. By the time you pull away from him, you're breathing heavily.

"I'm in love with you. I have been for as long as I can remember. I'm sorry I wasn't clear about it." He says.

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"Well in my defense I've spent the last few weeks trying to get over you-" Matt kisses you again, hard, possessive, fiery.

"Don't." He says.

"Obviously." You grab the collar of his shirt and kiss him again. You spent years thinking you'd never get to kiss him, now that you know the truth you fully intend to take advantage and Matt has years of pining he wants to make up for.

***

[euphoric-dramione]

That One Dramione Fic That Broke Me.

I’ve been thinking about this fic (The Sun, The Moon, The Truth—hereinafter TSTMTT) for the past week, since I finished reading it, and I realized that I need to write out my thoughts or else I’ll explode. For anyone who’s ready to type ‘BUT YOU CANNOT REVIEW FANFICTION’ this is not a review. This is an analysis.

You know how video essayists sometimes start their videos with a quote from the film or a book that they then go on to analyze, followed by an impactful pause? Imagine that this is a video essay. And it begins now.

[ff: The Sun, The Moon, The Truth by fantomas]

Be a tree, a fearful tree and timid,

Ne’er know peace of heart but tremble always.

Let the rain torment you without mercy

Let the wind pull madly at your tresses.

(From TSTMTT Interlude: The Lovers)

[Pause.]

The first chapter of TMTSTT was published on ao3 on November 2023, and I’ve been it’s loyal reader ever since. When the uploads paused in May, I reread the first three Acts over and over again, looking for clues, trying to guess what was going to happen next. Not to brag, but I guessed a lot. Not because I’m Sherlock Holmes, but because there were clues in every single chapter, and because this fic uses literary techniques that are evident to a seasoned scholar like me. Everything was thought out. The characters, the metaphors, the complex nature of the narrative itself.

The story follows Hermione as she wakes up from a months-long coma with no memory of the last ten years. Harry tells her that she’d spent the two years leading up to the coma in the hands of the mysterious Phantom—the man whose identity is unknown to both Harry and Hermione, and who, as Harry says, held Hermione as his captive, raping and torturing her. But the truth is not as it seems—when the Phantom kidnaps her again, Hermione starts to remember what truly happened to her. And it is one of the most trippy and terrifying journeys.

Memory is a tricky thing. It is a peculiar and fragile construct, shaped as much by our perceptions as by reality itself. It is both a map of our past and a filter through which we understand the present, yet it is unreliable—a patchwork of moments stitched together by emotion, bias, and time. Trauma can fracture it, leaving behind jagged edges and dark voids, while love can amplify or distort it, softening painful truths into something bittersweet. Memory is not just about what we recall; it’s about what we choose to forget, what our minds protect us from, and what might lurk in the shadowed corners, waiting to resurface. In the forests and castle of Hermione’s mind palace, the truth is not what it seems, so much so that we never truly find out what the truth is. Is the Phantom evil? Is Harry evil? Is Hermione evil? Who can say?

I tried to draw a scheme of the time loops in this fic, and what i got were quote some earrings—the snake eating its tail, which, I would argue, is one of the main ideas of this fic. This snake shows up as a metaphor numerous times, and twice—as an actual snake. Time is just as subjective as memory, and just as personal. In this fic, the past, present and future all exist in the same timeline, which immediately makes me think of Saint Augustine’s philosophy. Saint Augustine is one of my favorite philosophers, and he claimed that at any given point in time of the present when we think about the past or the future we can ever only think about it from the point of view of that moment when we think about it. That is, if we think about the past, there is always only present past, because when we thought about the past in the past, there was only past past. The same applies to this fic. The non-existence of the boundaries of time and space are hard to see in the flashback chapters, and yet even in the smallest of glimpses, it is quite effective: one of the first instances is when Hermione sees her self on the other side of the river, battered and bruised, and we know that this is the Hermione from act one, that is Hermione from the future, because we read an identical scene in act one. Flashback Hermione is followed around by a ghost of a Death Eater—that Death Eater is guilty for George’s accidental death and for many other things that happen to Hermione, and although it is never clearly stated whether that Death Eater ghost is Draco from the future, I think it’s safe to say that it is. The Death Eater ghost is the same Phantom that haunts Harry and makes him lose his mind—he comes from the future, yet he affects the present. There also an interesting tid bit of Narcissa describing flashback Draco as PhantomDraco which makes us wonder whether she can also see into the future or whether the time frames have blurred in her eyes too. My favorite blurring of the boundaries of time and space, however, is the scene where Draco meets Hermione’s ghost a few days after the Battle of Hogwarts. The ghost is from the future. She starts haunting him from then on, awoken by her own name coming from his lips. The story takes a full circle when we realize that Hermione haunts Draco because he’s the one who killed her and she is only visible to him because he ate her. This story is wild, isn’t it? The tragedy lies in the fact that Draco did everything he could to keep Hermione alive so she wouldn’t come back to haunt him, get eventually it is his actions that cause the string of events that lead to her becoming his personal ghost.

One thing I noticed was the use of seasons, weather. There was lots of mention of snow, water and ice, then fire, heat, flames. There was also a lot of metaphorical usage of the sun and the moon, which makes sense because it is in the title, but while reading I kept wondering what was the reason for it. In part one, snow, ice, and water symvolize Hermione’s inability to fully feel the consequences of her trauma and her “frozen” sense of self. The water reflect her deep yearning to recover what she had lost. There is a particularly vivid scene in one of the earliest chapters when Hermione where she watches the river flow by as she reflects on what happened to her. However, these memories are also “frozen,” which is why the water is cold, and there is ice in the river. The pivotal element moving forward in act two is fire. It is the first thing she pays attention to when she finds herself in the Manor. In later chapters of act two, Astoria’s funeral fire awakens one of the most deep-seated, although false memories hidden in Hermione’s mind. Fire gradually melts the ice and snow confining Hermione’s mind and sense of identity. In the last chapter of act two, when the drawing room is set on fire, the flames make Hermione remember the truth. If we dare call it the truth.

I don’t think it’s that important to explain the meaning of the sun and the moon, and in this fic that meaning is quite traditional, the moon standing for something that is hidden (half of Harry’s face in the moonlight, the other half hidden—chapter one), and the sun is symbolizing clarity and rebirth, and is mostly embodied by Draco as he is often described as illuminated by sunlight, even if his eyes resemble “two full moons”. You might disagree that he is the good one, and he isn’t, BUT. Although we can never be sure what the truth of Hermione is, we can be sure that Draco was and always will be the key to that truth because he is the mastermind, he is the one in control, he knows the truth and is ready to do anything to be the only one to know it, so much so that he kills the old witch who tells him his future in fear that she might tell his secrets to others. He also symbolizes rebirth because he literally is reborn after he makes a horcrux—his physical appearance changes, making him terrifying and overwhelming—and he is also a vessel for Hermione’s transformation, as she becomes a ghost after going through his digestive system. In one way or both ways, Draco is the key to both of theirs immortality.

Transformation, in my eyes, is another key aspect of this fic. Not only Hermione’s aforementioned transformation, but Draco and Harry’s too. Let’s talk about Harry now. He is the only side character who gets whopping two chapters from his POV, same as Draco, which puts him into a position of being as important of a character as Draco, and just as mysterious. (And just as evil. Or really?) Harry, unlike other characters, goes through his transformation early on in the story while Hermione and Draco are still in tact. He transforms into his mad-self when Hermione accidentally flips a stone of the Hogwarts castle on top pf him and George. George dies, fuelling Hermione’s eternal guilt, while Harry survives, suffering a months-long comatose state, which mirrors Hermione’s coma that she wakes up from after he tortures her. After waking up, Harry is eerily different, yet not so different as to make Hermione believe he’s evil. Although Hermione convinces herself that Harry did not die in the accident, Harry claims that she did. Although Harry says that he doesn’t blame her for what happened, Hermione blames herself. Harry’s corruptive transformation ascends slowly and mostly off-page, yet we know where his way leads to even though we have no proof of him doing anything wrong, ever.

Harry becomes tortured with visions of the future, and knowing what is going to happen to him, he tries, just like Draco, to do everything he can to turn the wheel of fate sideways, yet, just like Draco’s, his visions come true. Knowing the future doesn’t protect one from it. Here is where Macbeth comes in. It is very literally mentioned in one of the conversations where Draco and Hermione talk about Macbeth and Lady Macbeth, and as they talk about them, we readers feel as if they’re talking about themselves. Having Macbeth as an intertext only furthers the feeling of inevitable doom.

The fate is inescapable. There is a god, or a higher power, that controls these characters as if they were puppets on strings. In numerous scenes, Hermione feels like she cannot control her body, that her body works on its own accord, as if someone would be in control of it. In the last chapter of act two, when she tries to kill PhantomDraco, yet her own hand turns her own wand against herself, is the scene which illustrates determinism in this fic the best. Determinism is the philosophical idea that all events, including human actions, are determined by prior causes and conditions, meaning everything happens because of something that came before it. Characters tried to do everything they can to escape their fate, yet they only end up solidifying the ineffability.

There are five characters, besides Harry and Draco, who get their own POV chapters, one for each—Blaise, Pansy, Daphne and Narcissa. These chapters serve a few purposes. The first is to show what an unreliable narrator Hermione is. Her understanding of the Slytherin gang as people is very limited, which makes sense and gives the story a sense of realism. Other people always have rich lives beyond what we perceive. The characters’ POV chapters reveal their inner lives and complex relationships with one another that Hermione doesn’t notice. The other purpose of these chapters is to show Draco from others’ POV. Apparently, all the other characters hate him because he is evil. In all the chapters, except these, Draco is shown to be kind and loving, but the key thing is that he’s like that when he’s with Hermione. When he’s with Blaise, or Astoria, or Pansy, he is an uncaring and egotistical monster. Blaise’s chapter is the first glimpse that we get of Draco’s true form. And we don’t get many chances like that. The third reason for these chapters is to show that characters mirror each other. I already mentioned that there are a lot of scenes that get repeated over and over again with some minor changes (symbolising the snake-like slithering of time and events), but the same applies to characters—they mirror Hermione, and each other. Blaise mirrors Hermione’s inability to take action when it comes to facing the truth (that Harry might be going mad; that the Order might be using her; that Draco is not what she thinks she is). Daphne mirrors Hermione later in life—upon their first meeting, Hermione judges Daphne for living inside a beautiful house with a murderer husband, growing flowers and taking care of Astoria without worrying about the state of the world; in act five, she becomes a wife locked in a house, growing flowers and taking care of Astoria (seemingly) without any other worries. Astoria, although without her own chapter, also mirrors Hermione even in the early chapters while they’re both sick. Their borderline-obsessive infatuation with Draco is a thing they have in common. Pansy mirrors Hermione’s wish to please others and to save the world in her own little ways (which, of course, never goes anywhere). Narcissa’s chapter is incredibly vivid and beautiful, and it mirrors the way Hermione’s mind gets wrecked in the later chapters.

Another thing to note is that these characters die without ever doing what they always wanted to do. Blaise dies after going mad and losing his mind, killing Daphne, the one person he swore to protect and save from the mess of war. Daphne dies being killed by the love of her life. Astoria, who spent her life in Blaise’s house wishing to get away and be back with her parents, dies begging Hermione not to move her, saying please, I don’t want to go. Pansy wishes to never lose herself, to never let evil take over her, and she dies as one of Harrys inferi, without a mind of her own, which in life was her greatest insecurity. Hermione dies from brain cancer caused by memory alteration, just like her mother. Narcissa dies by jumping off a balcony, just like Hermione’s father does after losing his daughter, just like Hermione attempts to do in the earlier chapter after “remembering” that PhantomDraco killed their daughter.

Now let’s talk about those god forsaken interludes. One folklore tale, one painting by William Blake, two poems, one heart-wrenching song, one play-like chapter… But firstly, I want to mention the epigraph which is a scene from the Bible, featuring one of the most well-known scenes of the great red dragon and the woman clothed with the sun. The woman is giving birth and the dragon awaits to eat the child. Many scholars interpret the dragon to be the devil, the woman to be Mary, mother of god, and the baby to be Jesus. This epigraph paints a picture of some evil threat hanging above Hermione, as of course, we interpret Hermione as the woman clothed with the sun. In the first act, there is some clever half-misdirection that makes us believe that Harry is the evil mastermind behind it all and that Draco is just a misunderstood antihero in love with Hermione, and so, having read this epigraph, we interpret that Harry is the dragon waiting to eat Hermione’s child. But then, in the later part of the fic, there is an interlude titled The Moon, which features the same exact scene as the epigraph, only in the form of the famous William Blake’s painting, although by then we have an entirely different context. The interlude follows after Draco creates a horcrux and turns into PhantomDraco, so right now, we interpret the bleached red dragon of Blake’s as Draco, while Hermione still remains the woman clothed with the sun, as Daphne titles her before dying.

But the very first interlude is a folktale The folktale Spruce, the Queen of Serpents of Spruce, the youngest daughter of a poor family, who is forced to marry a magical grass snake after promising to do so under pressure. The snake transforms into a handsome prince, and they live happily in an underwater palace, raising four children. When Spruce visits her family, her brothers trick her youngest daughter, Little Aspen, into revealing the prince’s name, which they use to summon and kill him. In grief, Spruce curses Aspen to forever tremble in fear as a tree, while her brave sons become mighty trees, standing tall beside their mother, who is also transformed into the Spruce tree. This tragic tale mirrors the one of Draco and Hermione, and even of their daughter, gifting us a glimpse into how it’s going to end, yet it’s not an exact copy of the folktale, it only serves as a metaphor, and also makes us root, undeservingly, for Draco, in belief that he is the lover. Another epigraph which is foreshadowing is the poem also by William Blake “The Sick Rose” which foreshadows that Hermione is going to be sick and that she’ll die. Another poem is “Lady Lazarus” by Sylvia Plath which tells a story of a woman who dies and dies and yet resurrects each time. This interlude is right before the epilogue, where we find out that Hermione became Draco’s ghost. The character of Lady Lazarus solidifies the fic’s biblical imagery. The interlude of the song, Poison Tree by groupie, is another William Blake moment, as it is inspired by a poem of the same name. In author’s note, it says: “[the song] uses metaphor, antithesis, and biblical associations to highlight the self-damage that can proceed from suppressing anger. The emphasis is on letting go of negative emotions and moving on with life before this energy impacts the health and well-being of others. This poem is an extended metaphor – the wrath (anger) becomes a tree, a fruit, a poison apple.” Again, this ties up the loose ends with biblical imagery, the symbol of a tree, and anger that Hermione feels towards Harry and everyone else who harmed her, Draco included. It precedes right before Hermione gains back her memories.

At last, why the hell are the chapters named after Tarot cards, you may ask? This is perhaps the simplest question I can answer. As per my interpretation, Tarot cards represent something that is written in the stars, coded in fate, something that is while possible to foresee, impossible to avoid. Each chapter being a Tarot card tells us one more time that this story won’t end well and that nothing that will happen cannot be avoided.