#save me reeces save me

[ikuina-takashi]

love not being able to eat food we normally like

ughghghghghhh

[doctorhomo]

judee levinson im free to hang out on thursday please text me on thursday so we can hang out when im free (on thursday)

[mysicklove]

mello 😭😭 oh you poor thing, I hope the hangover gets easier to manage. sending you a million hugs rn along with this funky pic

thank u! i am going through hell rn and i have work in 10 mins ❤️

[starrierknight-main]

worshipping Lady Aphrodite and Love but in a "my hands are stained with blood and neither of us can tell if it's mine or yours" way

[batsinurbelfrey]

bruh-

[pulisicsgirl]

i just want to give the whole chelsea squad a big ‘ol kiss right now

[babysdrivers]

the only thing getting me through today is that no matter what there will be a new episode of inside no 9 on bbc2 at 10pm

[bettyandthebaddays]

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

need a part 2 for sleeping beauty already omg ur writing is too beautiful, need to read Spencer being shy n sweet

:((( ♡

thank you honey🥺 i want spencer to whisper in my ear😔 pt1

“are you okay with sharing a popcorn?” looking to your left at spencer while the two of you stood in the concessions line.

the old styled theater was heavily packed with different ages of people. from young children with parents, to couples holding onto each other, and elderly adults sitting down before heading into the show room. you could see why spencer would enjoy coming to this place, he could meet people of similar interest.

spencer held on tightly to the strap of his satchel, “i don’t really eat popcorn much. also did you know that popcorn has been around for about nine thousand years, evidence found by archaeologists in peru.” he looked away from you then squeezed his eyes shut, “uh, but i’ll be okay with- with sharing if i want a few pieces.”

your lips shaped into a smile, “we can ask for a water cup and pour some in for yourself before i start eating.” two steps forward in line, “what size drink? and beverage?” eyes squinting a bit to read over the options.

“your not paying, right?” a stern tone from spencer that it gives you whiplash for a moment. his brows are harshly pinched in the middle, a finger twitched at the urge to smooth out the wrinkle.

you shrugged, “you bought the tickets, thought i could buy the food. probably gonna be equal pricing in total.” used to splitting or paying in full for past dates.

spencer pushed his bag behind him, your wallet was tucked away in the brown leather. “no, this is a date,” insisting, “i’m paying for everything. i want to treat you.” softening his voice as he stared at you, his eyes rounding out into that doe shape.

you bit into your bottom lip, saving your cheeks from their future ache of how strong your smile widened. “okay,” embracing spencer’s gentlemanly deed. you looked back to the line, only three more people ahead.

you let your arms rest at your sides, fingers constantly moving, wanting to do something bold but unsure if it’s too soon. there was a ghost of knuckles that tingled your skin and then, one slender finger wrapped itself around your pointer finger. your heart skipped a beat at the contact, but you acted like this was an everyday occurrence, the intimacy felt normal.

“do you want any candy?” spencer resumed your food chat. you hummed for a moment, “if i get a kitkat and reeces pieces, will you share with me?” giving your joined digits a slight swing.

“the kitkat. not a big fan of the reeces texture.” once at the counter spencer recited your order easily, not bothering with a spare water cup. you carried your soda while spencer held the small popcorn, his water and the candy placed into his bag.

“are you okay with the back? don’t want to distract people with all my moving.” standing at the foot of the steps, only two third of the seats filled during the commercials.

you dragged spencer behind you as you guided the both of you to the last row, a pair of seats close to the middle. “are you okay with translating the whole thing? if it’s like the original then i’ll be fine.” hoping spencer still agrees, but the movie is an hour and a half long.

spencer was distracted with his bag when he replied, “i’ve already seen this movie. i don’t mind talking you through it.”

your face warmed instantly at the innuendo. “just- just take a break whenever. i can use context clues.” crossing a leg over a knee so you can lean closer into spencer’s side. “thank you, for this date,” whispered between the two of you.

spencer turned his head quickly that your noses brushed, his lip parting and you let your eyes drop to the plush pink calling to you. you let your head move in just an inch closer, waiting to see if spencer will lean away or go forward. just before there was a definite decision the lights dimmed and an usher walked in front of the screen.

you settled your back against the cushioned chair but stayed leaning, elbow resting on the arm rest. “enjoy the show,” the usher finished with before leaving and just a moment after the projector lights shined above your heads.

sleeping beauty appeared in swooping cursive titling then faded into the opening scene of a giant fairytale book. you barely moved your head when you felt spencer’s breath ghosting over your ear, needing to suppress a sudden shiver.

“once upon a time…”

[shadowqueenjude]

A rant from Eris if he finds out how Cassian treated Nesta

Eris: What the hell is wrong with you people? Rhysand: Excuse me? Eris: You have the chance to befriend a goddess in a Fae body, and you lock her in a house when she's depressed? Are you insane? Rhysand: Now see, she was wasting away- Eris: And, what, you thought locking her away was the SOLUTION? Rhysand: I had to do something! She was spending my money! Eris: Oh shut up Reece's Piece of shit. Don't complain about money like you don't have 5 fucking palaces you dickhead. If Nesta asked for my money, I'd have said, whatever you wish, queen!" Rhysand: That's because you didn't see her- Eris: I saw her when she was just made before you morons even knew what she was. And I'm not talking about her silver flames. She made all the High Lords listen. Even my father. A human just turned Fae. How dare you treat her like she's something to be ashamed of? That brute had her hike a MOUNTAIN? Those flawless feet should not have to do any manual labor. Rhysand: She revealed our secrets to Feyre. Eris: Yeah, the malignant pregnancy. Why the hell wasn't Feyre being informed anyway? Nesta was completely right to tell her. You're worse than my father, Rhysand. Rhysand: How dare you- Eris: Did I give you permission to speak, you Illyrian brute? At least my father would've tried to save his wife from the unborn child. He would've yeeted that mfer out as soon as he or she appeared. But you didn't do shit to try and protect the mother. No, you were more concerned about the goddamn egg. Rhysand: How dare you speak to me this way- Eris: You GASLIGHTED her into believing she's worthless, all while making her complete the tasks of a HIGH LADY by going after the Dread Trove. And when she was at her lowest, she inspired an entire library of traumatized priestesses to rise up and restore the Valkyries. And you dare treat her that way? You don't even realize the treasure you have. I would've made her my High Lady without hesitation. Matter of fact, I think I'll call the Blood Duel for her. Rhysand: You'd better not try anything, Eris, or I swear... Eris: You'll what? Kill me? Didn't Lucien tell you? Death threats are simply another Sunday evening while growing up with Beron as a father. Fucking try me, bitch. You should be grateful I spared your little Morrigan from her father after you forced him on her. Rhysand: What do you think you're d- Eris: I'll see you at the blood duel!

@thatlosernoonelikes This is Eris's part of the rant!

[b00tyliciousbabe]

hey i loved your Jordan Riki himbo x male reader. can i request one with himbo sweaty Reece Walsh with fetish? smut with reader worshipping his body?

thank you so much :)

AWWW STAWP IT! that means a lot, I’m glad you liked it. jordan and reece are carrying my interest in rugby rn, smth about those himbo australian/new zealand players just gets me going.

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crutches

reece walsh x male reader

summary: just me fantasising about this man for a bit.

notes: i have been obsessed with the girl group flo for a while now and they recently dropped a new single that inspired me to write this.

song rec: ‘walk like this’ - flo

‘if he keeps this up, i might need crutches…’

your boyfriend, reece walsh was a star on the pitch. and you were always there to cheer him on. during practice, sending you kisses and stares from the field. his dad calls him lazy, that he shouldn’t let you distract him from the bigger picture. ‘if you truly loved him, you wouldn’t be such a distraction.’ the coach’s words reverberated in your head for a while and you suggested that it’d be best if you stopped coming to see him. it wasn’t a break up, and y’all would see each other everywhere else, but your heart couldn’t take the possibility of being the cause of his failure.

reece always went to the gym when he needed to clear his mind. you watched him rep with a sad typa aggression. knocking, you asked if everything was alright. ‘babe i don’t really wanna talk about it.’ your bf said as he moved on to bench press. ‘tough,’ you straddle him with a brattiness that you knew, deep down, he loved to fuck out of you. ‘I ain’t movin until you tell me what’s bothering you.’ he sat up properly , palming your lower back to stabilise himself, ‘you’re insufferable you know that,’ reece huffed. you stroked his cheek with your thumb, the anger in his face melting at the love you’d always shown him. ‘you know you can tell me anything.’ you reassured, knowing that his father’s word got to him deeply. his frown softened, wanting to unburden himself at the gentleness of your voice. reece took another breath as you laid your hand on his heart. ‘i just hate that he sees our relationship as a distraction,’ he sighs, shoulders getting heavier, ‘if anything, seeing you makes me more work harder.’ reece goes in to kiss your neck and breathes out ‘my own personal cheerleader.’ you cradled his head, placing your fingers in his locks. you broke apart, as you tapped his nose. ‘you’re so cute!’ you lovingly teased. ‘shut the fuck uppppp.’ reece droned, turning red as he hid his blushing in your ample chest. you felt a thick, warm rod pressing in between your cheeks, urging you to untie your bf’s shorts, whilst he placed light kisses on your pecs.

‘w-wai-wait.’ reece says groggily. your face dropped, afraid you had done something wrong. ‘what’s the matter?’ you asked, as he remained silent, dragging you off of him. ‘i can’t fuck you here,’ he said with a sincerity in his tone. ‘i need one place where i can actually focus on training,’ seeming more rational by the minute. he breathed deeper. you could see exactly how hard it was for him to say this; the two of you had been together for some time now, and sex was one thing that he never messed with. for him, your body was sacred, one he needed to give full attention to. ‘i get it, you just look really hot when you’re all sweaty and stuff.’ you respond, eyes widening at your last statement.

you had told him the one thing, you swore never to admit. ‘so all of those times i came home from practice all gross,’ he grinned at how open you could be in your discussions with him. ‘you liked that shit?’ you looked up, sheepishly as a mumbled ‘yes.’ escaped your mouth. trying to solve his problems and save yourself from further awkwardness , you quickly changed the subject. ‘we can’t do anything here,’ you elongated the final word in a slutty attempt to arouse him. ‘so, how are we going to solve…’ gesturing to the the bulge in his shorts that ceased to go down. no words were exchanged. reece grabbed your wrist and rushed you two into his dad’s office.

he pushed you against the locked door and closed all of the blinds. invading your neck and upper chest with lovebites, he was like a creature, ravaging you. ‘reece, wait.’ you say using your might to push his desires off. ‘are you sure you wanna do this? here?’ he watched, unable to think clearly whilst staring down at your pretty face. ‘never have i ever wanted to fuck you as much as i want to right now.’ he grunted as you palmed him through his boxers. though left unsaid, you both loved the idea of literally ‘fucking over’ his dad’s feelings towards your relationship.

before you knew it, y’all were fully naked; if you weren’t in his company, you might’ve felt some vulnerability in your exposure, but he soothed those concerns with his touch. something about how the beads of sweat decorated his tan skin, and danced around the contours of his muscles, always astounded you. whenever the two of you made love, nothing else mattered. reece walsh, the biggest prick in the world (literally), was such a mess with your mouth wrapped around his cock. ‘ughhh fuck,’ he smiled, stroking your hair ‘shit baby, you suck my dick so well.’ you adored his cock, loving how you decorated it with your glittery saliva as the shades of light brown skin and pink hues painted his rod.

‘stand up for me baby,’ he demanded. reece loved your body. cupping your cheeks and toying with them, he looked into your fuck me eyes as he grinded his dick between your thighs. jumping up to allow him greater access he sat himself on the boss’ chair, deepening his kiss. ‘y/n, you ready?’ reece breathed, fingering your hole. riding him in the team office was not on your 2024 bucket list, but you certainly weren’t complaining. his light green eyes staring at you so lovingly, as he fucked himself up into your hole with no remorse. The duality turned you insane. the tensing of his biceps, strength of his shoulder blades, you were putty in his hands. ‘I will never get tired of you.’ he moaned, the sloppy sounds coming from your pussy. ‘I love you so much, my beautiful boy.’ you stroked his ego making him blush. he could snap out of being lovesick very quickly, but you were much better at bringing it out of him.

reece had found a rhythm; each time you lifted yourself from his huge dong, he gripped your plush waist and impaled you hard as you felt the veins of his cock imprint their way into your organs. it was a sight of true love. ‘fuck reece, you’re too big, i c-can’t.’ you subtly pleaded for him to slow down. your hole began to burn with a fiery stinging, but that was quickly forgotten as he reassured you: ‘i know baby, but you take it so well. that pussy is practically begging for my load.’ he wasn’t wrong. your tight lips involuntarily milked him so well that he couldn’t think straight. you bounced on him sloppily, signalling to your bf that you were getting close. he loved seeing his pretty boy fucked out on his cock. jackhammering at an insane speed he obliterated your ass, ‘FUCKKK FUCK REESE OH MY GOD!’ you exclaimed at the assault on your hole. it felt so good to have him rearrange your body, and you loved being his. ‘yeah, take it, imma give you it all,’ he groaned. the sounds of your wet hole and his precum made a symphony of pleasure, creating a percussion that accompanied the vocals y’all made. ‘cum for me,’ he grunted deeply, as he impaled you one last time, stuffing you with his batter. you painted his abs a bright white as he giggled seeing you in a trance. ‘every. fucking. time.’ you breathed out, recognising how whipped you were. ‘what?’ playing coy. as he licked his abdomen. ‘you know what,’ you playfully caressed his ear ‘turned me on so much that im sat in your dad’s office with his son’s dick up my ass.’ you both laughed, as reece savoured the sight of the boyfriend he loved so dearly.

despite how uncomfortable it would’ve been cockwarming your boyfriend, for the next 30 minutes, time was not a constant. you were lost in his company. a few kisses were exchanged, skin was stroked, but it was the first time you could just be present with him. ‘as much as im enjoying you squeezing my dick, my legs are falling asleep.’ he teased. ‘babe, i legit cannot walk.’ bursting out in laughter, as he pulled you of his pole and across the desk. after getting dressed, he grabbed some crutches from the medical room and drove you home, his seed still bubbling inside you. ‘how you feeling?’ reece asked, placing his hand on your thigh. you loved how sexy he looked driving like that. ‘a lil sore, but i’ll survive.’ you admitted ‘sorry baby, i did go a bit too rough.’ he answered with a hint of sadness at hurting you. ‘aww stop, don’t do that, i enjoyed every minute of it.’ you reassured. ‘besides, i know that your balls are aching right now from the pressure i put on them so…my bad’ he giggles at your attempt to lighten the mood.

the next day was the big match. the two of you had agreed to tone down your interactions during the game, and that you’d see each other after. a couple of his teammates greeted you during halftime. ‘HEY Y/N! long time no see.’ you walked over to them, a sway in your hips that Reece had fucked into you. they looked at you with furrowed brows until the realisation set in. this was certainly not lost on them as one of his best friends immediately knew. ‘walshie’s the reason that y/n is walking like that.’ he laughed pointing at your bf who looked so cute concentrating on the game. you could only smile at the prospect of taking him again after the game. bonus points if the team won x

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tag list:

@gayaristocrat

[noneorother]

By far the dumbest movie reference no one caught in Good Omens is : The League of Gentlemen's Apocalypse

I'm working on a theory that requires many hours of movie watching, so here we are. Many people have already mentioned that the nazi zombies/Furfur is a The League of Gentlemen comedy troupe shoutout. But I'm taking it one step crazier. Remember the opening scene from the 1941 minisode of S2E4, the one with the london bombing and the Angel statue in the bottom right corner ?

Haha sorry my bad. That's the climax intro scene of the movie The League of Gentlemen's Apocalypse. Here's the opening scene of the 1941 minisode:

You can excuse the confusion after seeing both, with how they look pretty much identical (yes this is giving me The Tales of Hoffmann PTSD, thanks for asking) And it's not very coincidental when you know who helped write the minisode.

You know, just the fourth member of The League of Gentlemen and writer of the movie LG Apocalypse. So shall we tease out all the (I'm warning you) EXTREMELY dumb quotes and story beats this terrible movie has lent to the 1941 episode? There are quite a few. But there's also a potential story arc that isn't so dumb... (TW offensive comedy, including mild gore)

In order to understand this you probably have to know a bit of background on British show The League of Gentlemen. "[A] surreal British comedy horror sitcom... follows the lives of bizarre characters, most of whom are played by three of the show's four writers – Mark Gatiss, Steve Pemberton, and Reece Shearsmith – who, along with Jeremy Dyson, formed the League of Gentlemen comedy troupe in 1995." You don't need to know all of the characters or backstory of the show, just that it's a fictional town with many fictional characters played by the same three writers (and an invisible fourth).

(Also known as all these people right here) Want to know who they plays a stand-in for Jeremy Dyson in LG Apocalypse and gets murdered first with black marker on his face?

Say hello, baby Sheen!

So we've seen the bombing scene, what about the car driving through fire and Aziraphale's suggestive line at the beginning?

Yup.

Do the characters make a deal with a Reece Shearsmith character to enter the real world through a church?

HECK YEAH. Bonus points for the green background.

A gag about fake lips with Steve? Sure.

Steve Pemberton seen here as a nazi zombie, and also here playing "Herr Lipp" (also known in the actual script as "the worst pun in the world" in the movie. Groan). What about Mark Gatiss Stealing binoculars from Steve to spy on two important characters? But of course.

Surely not the arm falling off too?

Oh dang. It's a big plot point in LG Apocalypse you say? Then, in the climax, does someone in dark sunglasses who doesn't know how a rifle works fire it at a main character, and the other character who he misses says fuck? Now you're pulling off my arm..

Well I'll be damned. The only difference here being Steve's head exploding, naturally.

I'll admit, I have trouble seeing where a giant 3 headed chimera beast that destroys a bunch of characters fits in at the end of the 1941 miniode, but I don't think 1941 is meant to be a stand in for the whole movie, because at that point in the movie the role of the main characters shifts to become the real versions of Shearsmith and Gatiss, not the characters. But even though the end of the movie doesn't track with 1941, I think the moral at the end is interesting : "In the church, Lipp says he will kill Gatiss. The other characters try to dissuade him, saying that once all the writers are dead, Royston Vasey will cease to exist and they will die. Lipp claims that they will in fact be better off, because as long as they're controlled by someone else they have no free will and can never change for the better. Tipps tells Lipp that because he saved the day and can therefore change, Lipp need not kill Gatiss. He persuades Lipp to hand him the gun, only for Tipps to accidentally fire it and kill Gatiss.

With all the writers now apparently dead, the residents of Royston Vasey prepare for the worst. Instead, everything calms down and The Apocalypse is averted. The characters realise they now have free will. Herr Lipp adopts some orphaned children, the vet, Mr Chinnery, finds a rabbit and is able to take care of it without killing it, and Bernice and Pauline become romantically involved. Tipps leaves the church, waving goodbye to Edward, Tubbs and Papa Lazarou. It appears that Royston Vasey can continue to exist independently of its dead creators." This struggle for free will outside of the plan originally set out by their creators, especially in the context of said creators not really caring about them anymore, really starts sending red flags up for me. Crowley's existential crisis at the beginning of S2E1 seems to be mulling over similar themes. The lack of any God narrator as in season 1 might be a change in storytelling technique, but might also point the the creator being absent, or having moved on without really letting her original creation know it gets to exist on it's own now. Funnily enough, this is the second movie with shot for shot quotes throughout, that places a specific set of characters at the center of their own deeper plot that has a meta level to the storytelling. I'm starting to think there's a pattern here...

_______________________________________ Here's my series on the Tales of Hoffmann, another movie hidden within the series.

[purplecoffee13]

‘I Was Made For Lovin’ You’ - Thin Lines Pt. 4*

“And I can’t get enough of you baby, can you get enough of me?” ~ I Was Made For Lovin’ You by KISS

Summary: “After a shitty day, Harry stumbles into your apartment, ready to distract you once again. But the both of you start to realize that it is getting too serious, and too real. So you make a decision…”

Tropes: opera singer!mc x rockstar!Harry

Warnings: angst, smut, daddy kink, degradation kink, possessiveness, fluff

Wc: 5k

A/N: Hello again! Enjoy this new part of Thin Lines. It’s getting angsty here and there, but I already can’t wait to write the next part! much love and kisses <333

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

You were fiddling with your hands, looking down at the marbled floor as you waited for your name to be called. Reece was supposed to be here a few minutes ago, but he hadn't yet arrived. You were too nervous to miss this important meeting, so you had decided to be early. Although that meant waiting here for another twenty minutes, you figured you were at least here.

Your head shot up when you heard the automatic doors opening for none other than your manager, and your stomach began to turn immediately. The last time you had seen Reece, you had gotten into a fight, one where you basically confessed your feelings for him. And then, your date had fucked you on his bed. God, that was fucked up.

You tried to push the memory away, and took a deep breath. Reece walked over to you, looking quite serious, and... nervous? He was nervous to see you. Good, you thought.

He stood in front of you awkwardly, as he greeted you with a weak 'hi'. You greeted him back and he sat down next to you, sprawled out in his seat. Silence occupies the room, until it doesn't.

"Listen—"

"I just—"

You both looked at each other, wide eyed. You gave him a hint of a smile. "You go first."

"I'm sorry." He spit out, desperately. "About what I said. I just want what's best for you, and that Harry guy seems a bit dangerous. I don't want to see you getting hurt."

You stared at him with a stone faced look. "Harry is not dangerous. I know what I'm doing. I'm not some innocent little lamb in need of saving."

Reece looked at you for a couple of seconds, and you felt the skepticism radiating from his eyes, then sighed. "My point is, I crossed a line. I'm sorry."

Your body stilled when you felt his hand resting on your thigh, but your heart beat didn’t rise at his touch. You found that weird. Had the spell worn off? Did you really get cured from your love sickness?

"It's fine." You shrugged. "I just really want this meeting to go well. So, it's water under the bridge."

"Okay." Reece grinned at that, and just in time, the door opened and your names got called. You stood up and walked through the door, entering a conference room with three men in suits sitting at the end of the table. You wandered towards the seats, and were about to sit down, when Reece tapped on your shoulder, pointing to the seat on the left from where you were about to sit.

You silently obeyed him, ignoring the frustration brewing in your stomach, and took the seat he had silently assigned you.

"Y/N, welcome to Shelf Records. I'm Simon Walters. We are very happy to meet you. Our colleague, Jake Ryleigh, over here, was very impressed with your performance at the opera." The man at the head of the table smiled at you. He was very intimidating, and his nice act didn't conceal it.

"It's a pleasure to meet you too, Mr. Walters. And thank you, Mr. Ryleigh. I'm glad to hear that you enjoyed the opera." You said, a polite smile coating your face. It was always the same routine, these meetings. The labels would introduce themselves and compliment you, ask you about your dreams and give you a nice little speech about their options for you. Of course, upon reading the contracts, there would always be tons of traps which would ultimately lead to Reece rejecting the offer for you.

But you still held faith. One day, you would get to a record label that would let you do what you truly dreamed of doing. And maybe this was the one, so you needed to play the part in order for them to give you what you want.

"We have heard the demos you sent us, and I have to say, you have an exquisite voice, Y/N. Truly talented." Simon Walters complimented you, smiling as you thanked him again. You glanced over at the other guy, shake, who shot you a more inviting grin than that of his boss. It made the crushing weight of your shoulders just a tad bit lighter.

"Now, tell me, do you have some work of your own?" He asked a question that you had been waiting on, eager to answer. He eyed the purse in your hand, where your note book stuck out of. You nodded intently.

"I do! I have written quite a few songs—"

"But they aren't polished enough, yet. Y/N and I think it would be best to have some ghost writers, especially in the beginning. After all, the most important thing is to display her voice well." Reece interrupted you, and you felt yourself shrink into a tiny excuse for a human as his words hit your ears. You couldn't believe what he was saying. He knew that your dream was to write, why was he making it look so unimportant right now?

"I see..." Mr. Walters said, turning his attention to Reece. You leaned back into your seat, disappearing behind Reece's tall frame. But you didn't care, this meeting wasn't about you anymore, anyway.

You still felt the sympathetic eyes of Mr. Ryleigh on you, and you brushed it off with a weak smile.

You kind of went on autopilot after that, processing the conversation just enough to know that it was not going in the way you wanted, and that you could forget about a contract. You kept on the fake smile all the way on your door out, and it wasn't until you and Reece were in the parking lot, that you really spoke up again.

"Why did you tell them to get me writers?" You asked, straight up. You needed answers.

"What?"

"You heard me." You said sternly. Reece shook his head, putting his hands on his hips. "You know I love writing, that it's my dream to write songs. So why are you telling them the exact opposite?"

"Do you really think I'm trying to sabotage you, Y/N?" Reece asked, offended. A frown appeared on your face.

"No, I—"

"I have told you, a thousand times, that I want what's best for you! Why do you keep making me your villain?!" He began to shout, and your eyes watered on cue.

"I didn't say—"

"I wasn't done talking!" Reece shouted, making you flinch. Your entire body was filled with fear. He had never shouted to you like that before, and the look in his eyes was scary. He took a deep breath at the sight of your big eyes. "We need to get you a guaranteed hit, and then you can get your creative freedom. Your songs are not good enough yet, and they’re going to think the same thing, and then they’ll drop us. I know how this works. Trust me, I always have your best interest at heart."

You were looking down at the pavement as you let Reece talk, you weren't even really paying attention. You lazily nodded at what he told you, and said your goodbyes to him afterwards.

The entire way home you were just in a weird trance, shocked about how Reece's voice had raised so much. He had never looked like someone you thought you could ever fear, but here you were, hands still shaking a bit from the impact his aggressive demeanor had made on you.

As soon as you arrived home, you changed into a big shirt that Harry had left here one night, and a pair of skimpy shorts. With a bucket of ice cream in your hand, you put on The Notebook. By the end you were crying, like you do every single time. You knew that your tears had more to do with Reece than with the movie itself, but for some reason you felt like you had to conceal it. It didn't feel right to cry about him.

After the movie had finished, you put on 'Friends', cheering yourself up more and more with each episode that you watched. It was at around midnight, and seven episodes in, that there was a knock on your door.

Your heart stopped momentarily, wondering who would be banging on your door at this ungodly hour. It wasn't until you heard a familiar voice that you finally calmed down.

"Sweetheart?"

You could've sworn your heart melted at the whiny sound of Harry's voice. You unlocked your door and opened it, finding a slightly drunk Harry standing in front of you.

The white dress shirt he was wearing was mostly unbuttoned, leaving little of his chest to the imagination. Not that you needed imagination; you had his inked chest memorized and stored at the front of your brain.

"Hey," you greeted him with a a smile. "what are you doing here?"

“Needed to see you.” He smirked, stepping towards you and grabbing your face, and planted his lips on yours. You let out a surprised yelp at his sudden action, but let him guide the both of you into your apartment anyway. With a swing, you closed the door behind you and kept walking backwards until your legs hit the couch.

Harry pushed you backwards, flopping you onto your couch, then leaned forward to resume, speaking in between the kisses on your neck. "Couldn't. stop. thinking. about. you."

His hands traveled over your body before he leaned back fully, taking a good look at you.

"Fuck, and here you are sitting at home with my shirt on. Did you need me close tonight, baby?" He taunted, grabbing your shorts and panties and pulling them off of you. You nodded furiously. His entrance had surprised you, but he looked so good and he was just so... hot. You couldn't help but ache for him the second he stepped into your apartment.

Harry's fingers traced over your slick pussy, his eyebrows raised at the state of you. "Jesus, are you so wet for me already?"

"Yes, I don't know how it happens. I just— I need you." You began to babble, not liking how his fingers were teasing you. You genuinely sounded so confused and Harry found it so endearing. He couldn't believe he had turned you into his personal fuck toy so quickly, dirtied you up so fast. You had acclimatized to your new, corrupted self very well, but these innocent sounding phrases would still leave your mouth every now and then.

"Aw, you don't how it happens? You don't understand how the sole sight of me could make you so fucking wet?" Harry cooed you, his free hand stroking your hair and your face. His gentleness almost made you cry, and you shook your head. Harry smirked at you. "Well, I do. You wanna know, baby?"

"Yes, please." You whined, staring up at him with big eyes. Harry unbuckled his jeans and took his cock out. He didn't say anything as he wrapped your legs around him, his cock now pressing against your entrance. You let out a moan, but were quickly corrected with a slap to your pussy. Biting your lip, you attempted to prevent any further noise from escaping your throat.

"It's because you are nothing more than my filthy, desperate, cock dumb slut."

A tear fell from your eye as Harry pushed into you, his mean words making you even wetter than you already were. You loved it when he degraded you. He would be especially rough after drinking or using drugs, and it would always blur his carefully drawn lines.

Sober, Harry was still rough, but you could always tell that a little part of him was holding himself back. Like he was afraid that too much would actually hurt you. You had tried to show him over the course of time that it wasn't, and that he could do whatever the fuck he wanted to you, but it hadn't changed his behavior. Now, he had drank a bit, and the sincerity of the words he spoke showed that.

"Mm.. fuck! Yes, I'm your slut, daddy! O-only for you!" You whimpered as Harry began pounding into you in a way that almost caused more pain than pleasure. Almost.

Harry let out a low growl at your nickname for him, wrapping his hand around your throat as he fucked his hard cock into you. By now, you were sure that your pussy had been accustomed to his dick, and his dick only. You weren't quite sure if you or your body were ever going to get used to someone like this ever again.

"You know I love your pretty tits, baby. Love to watch them bounce for me as I destroy your little pussy." Harry said, his free hand squeezing one of your tits. You whimpered at the touch. "But the sight of you in my shirt like this... It's too pretty."

"I wear it all the time, daddy." You decided to fuel the fire, smug at the knowledge of how territorial he got over you. "It's my favorite."

Harry shut his eyes, a deep frown creasing his forehead as his thrusts became irregular. You widened your eyes at the realization that he was already close to his orgasm. You couldn't believe that the sight of you in his shirt had made him so horny that he was about to come.

The gentleman he was, Harry was quick to put his fingers on your clit and run in earth shatteringly fast circles until you were only inches away from your orgasm too. Not that you needed much more; the knowledge of him falling apart for you so fast was reason enough to come all over thick cock.

"Shit, I'm gonna come... what the fuck!" He groaned, thrusting into you a couple of more times before he stilled inside of you. You came not many seconds after, completely entranced with the man above you. This orgasm was different from others, you had sensed it immediately. You felt it everywhere, and it was ten times more intense than any other orgasm Harry had ever given you. Even including the time he had edged you multiple times.

Harry's forehead touched yours, and kept it like that as you both attempted to steady your breathing. You knew he had felt the difference too, and you also knew he felt the same way about what that meant.

It was dangerous.

But the both of you ignored it for now, instead busying yourselves with cleaning up. You stumbled to the toilet and suppressed all emotional thoughts that flew into your brain the moment you were alone. You refused to acknowledge it, at least for now.

After doing your business, and washing your hands, you opened the door to Harry reaching out a glass filled with water to you. You took it with a timid 'thank you' leaving your lips before walking to your bedroom.

Not a word was shared between the two of you as you walked over to your bed to lie down in it. You weren't sure whether to say anything when you watched Harry take off his clothes and join you. You had expected him to get dressed and go home, but then again, he had stayed more often than not lately. Besides, why would you oppose to Harry being in your bed?

You said nothing as he scooted closer to you and wrapped an arm around your waist before digging his head into your chest. Your left hand immediately went to stroke his arm as your right hand began to play with his hair. You kept your breathing even, not wanting to show that this was making you extremely nervous while also feeling the most comfortable you had in years.

Slowly but surely, you relaxed into him, letting your guard entirely down. There he was, the mean man, your favorite distraction, lying with his head buried into your body like a puppy.

You inhaled the smell of his pretty chocolate curls and stroked his hair until your eyes started to feel too heavy, and softly fluttered closed.

*****************************************

The shift of a body woke you up, and as you opened your eyes, you were instantly reminded of last night. You couldn't help but smile at Harry still cuddling you. Even while sleeping, his grip held you tight, as if he were scared you would leave.

You softly ran your nails up and down his arm, your other hand going back to playing with his hair like it had the night before. You took a deep breath when you felt Harry's finger pressing into your skin even harder, knowing that he was awake too now.

His head, which had moved overnight and was now buried in your neck, began peppering kisses on your earlobe, trailing down your neck.

"Good morning to you too." You chuckled as he kept on assaulting your neck, and an unexpected moan escaped you as he began to suck on your skin. You whispered a few profanities, your core beginning to flare up again.

"Good morning, baby." Harry mumbled back in his raspy morning voice, creating a pool between your legs. His hand creeped downwards and pushed your panties down your legs. With your help, he got you out of them and soon you were naked under his touch, once again.

Deciding to return the favor, you pulled Harry's cock out of his confinement, and turned your body his way. You were now lying side to side, Harry stealing away a kiss from your lips before sliding his cock into you.

It was slow, slower than you had ever been with him before. Even the previous two times of morning sex weren't as intimate as this. That may also have had to do with the fact that the first time was in the 69 position and second time was Harry's cock waking you up as he pounded into you.

This was intricate, but it felt too good to stop. You and Harry were panting, intoxicated with the intensity of the moment.

"So tight for me." Harry said lowly, holding your hips as his snapped against you. There wasn't any possible way to be closer to a human being than how close you were to Harry. Nothing but strained sounds came out of your mouth as Harry fucked deep into you, hitting that perfect spot.

He knew he had. You had a tendency to crease your brows in a particular way whenever he would hit your g-spot, and he loved how cute you looked. It is why he pushed away the strand of hair that was blocking the pretty view of your face falling apart for him.

His thumb found its' way back to your clit, playing with it until you were basically squeaking like a toy. Like his proper fuck toy. Your core was pulsing and the build-up of the orgasm that was brewing inside of you felt scarily intense.

"God, you're perfect." The words left his mouth before he had a chance to shut them down. Quickly, Harry regained his senses. "Pussy's made for me, isn't it? Designed for only me to fit into, hmm?"

You mewled out a desperate 'yes', before letting out a long cry, squirting all over him. You cried and cried pathetically as you let the euphoria wash over you. The feeling was out of this world. Harry had made you squirt once before, but that was on a rough night. But somehow, this morning sex with him felt equally, if not more intense.

"Shit, baby, look at you. Making a mess all over my cock." Harry sounded breathless, a drip of sweat trailing over his forehead as he kept thrusting into you. "Must've been so fucking needy for me."

"I always need you." You said in what could almost be classified as a whisper. It was true, you did always need him. He could take you any time of the day.

Harry let out a low moan before spurting his hot cum into your drenched pussy. He stayed still inside you as, and after, he came. It was as if he didn't want to let go of you. And so, silently, he held you for a few minutes longer, still buried inside you, as you breathed into each other.

Neither of you wanted the moment to stop, but Harry ended being the one pulling himself out of you, but not before planting a kiss on your forehead. You got up with a grin on your face, visiting the bathroom to clean yourself up before really starting your day.

When you got back to your room, your heart dropped. Harry was leaning over your nightstand, reading the notebook that laid there, still open. You sprinted towards the book and closed it as quick as you could, earning a raised brow from Harry.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" You hissed at him, sounding more out of breath than angry.

"That was good. Was that lyrics?" He asked, ignoring your words and the tone of them. He seemed intrigued.

"No." You denied, but that confrontational stare of his made you cave quickly. "... okay, yes. It’s lyrics. Happy now?"

"Let me see it."

"What?!"

"Let me see it." Harry repeated himself, holding out his hand for you to put your notebook in. You scoffed, shaking your head at his ridiculousness. Harry didn't move, though, still waiting for you to give it to him.

There was a deadly silence for a minute or two, neither of you budging. You didn't want to show him your writing. What if it was bad? Harry was a master at lyrics, and it made your silly scribbles look like child's play. Nevertheless, you found yourself hesitantly handing him the notebook.

You sat yourself down next to him, your palms sweating as he flipped through the pages, waiting until he came across the one he just saw. You swore you could've died from a heart attack, watching his eyes scan the paper. You sighed, there was no way you could ever proceed to live a life as a musician if Harry's opinion turned out to be bad. So you thought of the best possible solution, and did it.

Standing up, you walked around the bed and hid yourself under the covers. For a moment, you laid there in your barren shame, until a soft chuckle sounded from Harry's side. You were too scared to look up, but you sneaked a peek anyway.

Looking up, you found Harry, still sitting where he was just a few seconds ago, only now his body was turned towards you. The notebook was still on his lap, his hand keeping it open on the right page.

"What are you doing?" He asked, amused by your sudden antics.

"Hiding."

"Why?"

"Because it's physically impossible for the ground to swallow me whole right now." You groaned, popping your head back under the covers. Harry laughed, and suddenly the covers were gone. A shiver ran down your spine at the sudden temperature change, and you glared at Harry as he sat himself closer to you.

"This is good, darling. This is very good." He articulated the compliment slowly, hoping you would be able to hear the sincerity behind it. While it seemed that you had, Harry also noticed something in your brain doubting his words.

You looked down at the page Harry had read. It was one of your latest works, and it really wasn't anything yet. You had written the blubbering of words on the back of a receipt in the train, and wrote a more comprehensive and lyrics like version in your notebook yesterday. It was still raw, and it needed polishing, but to hear Harry say it was good set your heart on fire. If Harry thought it was good it must've had some potential.

"Thanks, but it's not good enough yet." You said, remaining critical of yourself. You couldn't allow yourself to slack off, especially if your future rode on your writing skills. "But luckily I still have plenty of practicing time left."

"No success at the record labels yet?" Harry asked. You hadn't even told him about it, but it was probably quite easy to guess.

"Not really..." You said, the corners of your mouth now pointing downwards. The topic bummed you out. You had been so excited about all the meetings but they had all turned to shit.

"Why not? Aren't they fucking desperate for singer-songwriters nowadays? It's all the rage, I hear." Harry half-jokes, and you let out a breathy chuckle.

"Apparently not. I mean, Reece says that they don't really give the artists the creative freedom they promise. I need a hit first and then I can write whatever I want." You repeat the words that were shouted into your brain yesterday.

"What?" Harry asked, a frown on his face. You look up at him with big eyes. "Did he tell you that?"

When you nodded, Harry scoffed. "Money hungry bastard that he is."

You were taken aback by Harry's sudden aggressiveness on the situation. Your body was already retreating in preparation, just in case Harry freaked out like Reece did yesterday.

"Of course you're not going to have full creative freedom. You're always going to be pushed into a direction a bit, but you can write your own hit. Your writing is ten times better than a lot I've seen being passed around in the studio."

You had no idea what to say to that. Your mouth was slightly hanging open, pondering over the words he spoke. That couldn't be true, could it?

"I don't know... Reece said it wasn't good enough yet. He won't let me show it to the record labels." You shrugged, and Harry scoffed.

"Then I think you should get a new manager, sweetheart." He suggested, tilting his head a bit as he watched your eyebrows curve into a frown.

"N-no... that's ridiculous. I mean, where would I even find— no. I don't know how to do that." You felt your heartbeat rise, drifting into a panic mode. The touch of Harry's hand cupping your cheek directed your attention to him and his beautiful green eyes.

"I know a couple people. I can set you up with them, if you want." He said, as if it wasn't a huge favor he would be doing you. One that may be too big, one that you couldn't possibly repay. You were quick to shake your head.

"No, that's too much to ask of you." You tried to be as stern as possible, but it was difficult with his thumb caressing your cheek. Your stomach felt like it was doing cartwheels.

"It's not, okay?" Harry took a stronger hold of your face and directed it towards his, leaning forward so you would meet his eyes. "It's not."

The repetition of his words had made you let out a shuddered breath, slowly nodding in obedience. A hint of a smirk appeared on Harry's face as he took his hand back, and got up from the bed. You couldn't do much but stare at him while he put on his clothes.

It was getting too dangerous, too real. The enjoyable tension in your tummy that emerged whenever he would look at you or touch your skin, even in an appropriate manner, was getting out of hand.

It was very clear from the start that this was only a distraction, and you intended to keep it that way. Harry couldn't be what you needed on the long term, nor would he ever want to be.

The realization that you would have to cut him off soon was creating a headache too unbearable, so you selfishly pushed it down, trying to think of as many different things as you could.

"So, I'll see you around?" Harry asked nonchalantly, now fully dressed and ready to go. You nodded at him, giving him a small wave as he walked out of your bedroom. You sighed the moment you heard the door slam, and pushed your head into your pillow before letting out a guttural scream.

You would've gone on longer with the personal exorcism, had your phone not ringed. You blindly reached for your phone, then turned onto your back as you accepted the call from the unknown number, and put the device to your ear.

"Hello, this is Y/N."

"Hi, Y/N. It's Jake Ryleigh, from yesterday's meeting." The man on the other line introduced himself, and you smiled as soon as you realized who you were speaking to.

"Oh, hi! How are you?"

"I'm good, thank you for asking." Jake politely responded. "I'm sad the collaboration didn't work out, I think you are very talented."

"Thank you, I am also sorry it didn't work out." You said, putting up a bit of a professional front.

"Anyways, I was wondering — and totally call me out if I'm overstepping here — but I was wondering if maybe you would want to go to dinner with me sometime?" He sounded nervous. While you found it endearing, you were confused by his proposition. But before you could ask any questions, Jake kept on rambling.

"It's just— I have never seen a woman so beautiful, smart, funny, and talented. I knew I would spend my life regretting it if I didn't at least ask."

You thought it over as he talked. Jake was pretty cute, and he had been very nice to you the entire time. He's given you nothing but compliments and you haven't gotten a creepy vibe from him so far. Plus, you need a distraction from your distraction, so maybe this date is actually a very good idea.

"I would be delighted to go on a date with you." You answered him, and you swore you could hear a sigh of relief from the other side of the phone.

"Really? I mean— does Friday at seven work for you? I'll pick you up." He suggested, stumbling over his words here and there. You giggled, liking his clumsiness. It made you feel less nervous about it all.

"That works perfectly. I'll save your number and text you my address."

"Great." Jake said enthusiastically. "I'll see you Friday, then."

"See you Friday." You replied before hanging up the phone. You looked at the ceiling, wondering if this was truly a good idea. But you figured, there was only one way to find out.

[changingplumbob]

Foster Household: Chapter 9, Part 3

James: So this is Ariadne

Ariadne: Hi Mr Foster

Harvey: Please, call me Harvey. I’m so excited to finally meet you, James has been singing your praises

Ariadne: You have a relaxing aura

Harvey: Thank you, I don’t really know what that means but it sounds like a compliment. You like fishing?

Ariadne: I love the outdoors

Harvey: So do I! Well we have a bunch of basic stuff, and the fishing hut is right over there if you need anything special. Or you might just enjoy the sea. Either way it’d be great to have you in the fishing club

Carson walks down to the beach after his appointment and is going to catch up with his mum when he hears the worst sound in the world, the voice of his brother.

Reece: Where have you been loser

Carson: None of your damn business egghead

Kayleigh: Boys, calm down, I’m trying to paint

Reece: Whatever, you probably weren’t doing anything interesting anyway, you never do

Carson: Yeah well at least I don’t use my partner as a substitute to appearing interesting

Reece: I’m plenty interesting idiot

Carson: Numbskull

Kayleigh: Reece, why don’t you go fish with your dad. Carson, that teen over there would probably like some company

Reece: Teen over- oh is that your girlfriend? Shall I read your diary and find out? We'll be even then

Carson: Unlike you when I start dating someone I’ll introduce them to mum and dad, not sneak them upstairs like I’m ashamed of them

Reece: Knew you hadn’t kissed anyone yet

Carson: Shut up, like you kissed anyone before Samir

Reece: I could have if I wanted to, unlike you I’m attractive

Carson: Attractive to a pig maybe

Kayleigh: Enough boys, break it up. Carson, go. Reece, shoo

Trying to put his brother out of his mind Carson walked over to Ariadne who was gazing at the sea.

Carson: Uh... hi

Ariadne: Hey Carson, good to see you

Carson hadn’t expected her to be so warm, or remember his name really. Ariadne was the year below him at school and even though they had had some mixed classes he hadn’t figured he’d be memorable to her.

Ariadne: Since we’re not at school and around everyone I wanted to say thank you

Carson: Thank you? For what?

Ariadne smiled and Carson felt himself smiling back even though he wasn’t sure what she was happy about.

Ariadne: My first day at school. I was super nervous and told everyone I live with my dad’s in Willow Creek. Since your dad is friends with James you had to have known I was adopted

Carson: I did, or I do

Ariadne: Exactly. You could have outed me, told everyone I was adopted and that my dads aren’t my dads but you didn’t. It... well it meant a lot to me, to not have to have any of those conversations when I was trying to fit in

Carson: So do none of them know James and Alexander adopted you?

Ariadne: Roger and Scarlett do, they’ve been to my house. Well...

Carson: The mansion?

Ariadne: It’s crazy big! Who needs so much space? But anyway yeah, they know. But I do worry about others finding out

Carson: Ah, you mean Artemisia I presume

Ariadne: She’s so beautiful but so mean

Carson: Beautiful? I guess she’s not bad

Ariadne: I’m sure she has half the school fawning over her

Carson: Well I wouldn’t put myself in that half, especially not with you around

He does have to take a moment to look at the sand after that, he couldn’t bear it if she laughed at his futile flirting attempts.

Ariadne: You wouldn’t?

Carson: No. Would... would you be in that half?

Ariadne: Some days but... I think there’s more than one way to be beautiful. She’s not the only one at school I find cute

Carson: Who else do you find cute

Ariadne: Oh Carson, that would be telling

Ariadne’s phone buzzes and she pulls it out of her pocket.

Ariadne: *smiling* Roger. I mean... the text is from him. He’s sorting out details for tonight

Carson: Oh... You’re going to the dance with him?

Ariadne: Just as friends to get the discounted ticket price, my dads may be loaded but Alexander does like to save some simoleons when he can. Will I see you there?

Carson: I’m not much of a dancer

Ariadne: That’s okay, we could just sit and talk. I mean... you don’t have to talk to me obviously. You’ve got your own friends

Before Carson can respond Harvey calls for him, it’s almost time for him to go to scouts. Managing a quick goodbye he goes to help Kayleigh pack up her paints.

After making sure Carson caught the right ferry Harvey headed out on to the water. He hadn’t managed to catch much in the morning but hopefully the deep water would yield better results. Moving to Sulani was definitely the right choice for him, he loved time outside and snow impacted his ability to fish. He had no misconceptions, it was Kayleigh’s money that had gotten them this life. He just hoped to fill it with grandchildren soon.

Back inside Kayleigh had some visitors, her daughter Keira and her new wife Marta.

Keira: It’s good to see you mum

Kayleigh: I wasn’t expecting you two today, the BBQ isn’t until tomorrow

Marta: We know, we just missed you

Kayleigh: Oh thanks sweetie. What’s new with you two

Marta: Our neighbour had kittens but Keira won’t let us adopt one

Keira: You don’t want a kitten and an infant at the same time

Marta: But... kitten

Kayleigh: Are you denying my daughter in law furbabies?

Keira: Okay it’s not fair for you to both gang up on me. Any animal takes training and care, people think cats are no effort but you’ve got to look after them properly

Kayleigh: I suppose you are an expert

Keira: Damn right I am, I have the student loan to prove it

Kayleigh: We paid for your degree

Keira: I... I have the paper to prove it

Previous ... Next

[mxdimitrescu]

Masterlist

Welcome to my Masterlist. Everything I've written so far will be kept in one place until I feel like a mini masterlist is necessary. Requests are Open so please send in your requests!

Social:

Wattpad

Who I'll Write For:

Right now, I'm only writing for characters or celebrities I am familiar so I apologize if I don't recognize for your person that you request for. However, I am hyper-fixated on Twice so that's your best bet. I primarily write OCs instead of Y/N just to make it easier for me to write. Also all my OCs are G!P too.

Stories/Imagines that are highlighted RED is 18+. CONTAINS SMUT!!

Reactions/Headcanons Masterlist

Twice

Jealousy

↳Myoui Mina x GP!Minatozaki Seiko

Enamored

↳Park Jihyo x Bae Eun

Her Lion

↳Chou Tzuyu x GP!Kang Saja

Unexpected Surprise (Request)

↳Twice x GN!Reader

Red String of Fate (Coming Soon)

↳Minatozaki Sana x Kim Dohyun

New Hiring (Coming Soon)

↳Hirai Momo x ??

Celebrities

Late Night Fun

↳ Vanessa Moe x GP!Reece Johnson

Confessions

↳Kylie Jenner x GP!Lux Jones

Drunken Night

↳Kendall Jenner x GP!Remy Fields

Green-Eyed Monster

↳Kendall Jenner x GP!Kai Daniels

After Party

↳Cardi B. x GP!Salem Black

Shy Reunion

↳Lauren Jauregui x Blue Hansen

Tattoo

↳Anna Kendrick x Bellamy Black

Twilight

Unexpected Love Pt.1 & Pt.2

↳Rosalie Hale x Echo Clearwater

You Saved Me

↳Irina Denali x Finley

Athletes

When Our Eyes Meet

↳Alex Morgan x Hunter Lake

New Revelations

↳Christen Press x Deaf!Emery Press

Opposites Attract

↳Tobin Heath x Tall!Jace Campbell

Connections Leads to Something

↳Mom!Hope Solo x Kid!Sloan

Everything is Okay

↳Jackie Groenen x Asa West

Love Found in Cafe

↳Ashlyn Harris x August Kane x Ali Krieger

[starrrling]

TASK 006: THE TALENT SHOW [ ... encore ... ]

“Actually, wait, can I go again?”

Even at the heights of her alcoholism, Reece had always been sort of a lightweight: she’s been the same height since middle school, and she’s held her liquor like an (alcoholic) eighth-grader indefinitely. Seventh months of sobriety, though, had rendered her tolerance at an all-time-low, and she felt dizzy and warm almost as soon as she swallowed against the familiar burn of the liquor.

She floated her way through the final six performances; she was sickly, shamefully satisfied by the way the heat moving through her cells made everything feel better, exactly like she knew it would. Who had she been to try and pretend that she could suffer through a lifetime of white-knuckled restraint? Not every unloved child could grow up into somebody who’d been worth saving. She was, after all, her mother’s bastard daughter: an aberrant footnote at the end of somebody else’s better story. Why not drink?

After a few minutes, the shot settled, Reece’s cranium loosened, and all of the rest of it went away, leaving behind only the simple, salient question, something that didn’t make her sad at all: Why not drink?

Through Naomi’s knife-throwing, Vikram’s recitation of Pi, Natalia’s dreary Debussy, Reece floated, and she thought, Why not drink? And she didn’t know that she was going to sneak another shot until she did it, and she didn’t know she was going to take the stage again once everything was over until she did it, but once she was up there again, blinking against the light as if she’d woken up there, mid-sleepwalking, Reece understood that the entire evening was irreversible. She’d already stood up in front of everyone again, which meant that the worst thing she could possibly do would be not to make it count.

“Actually, wait, can I go again?” Reece interrupted what might have otherwise been the end of the talent show, not waiting for anyone to grant her permission—she was flailing in the focus, looking out at all of those sets of eyes, spilling irradiance like headlights, auspicious of roadkill. “Because I think I did it wrong, before. With the song. He didn’t even like that song,” she explained, with a derisive snort, as if she and Richard’s ghost and all of them in the room were in on some kind of inside joke at Reece’s own expense. “

I actually have a confession to have instead, if that’s cool, ‘cause I lied before, the other day. Mickey started talking about the last time she saw Richard, and I said the last time I saw him was July—I did see him then, on my grandma’s birthday—that story was true, I mean—but I saw him again, too, after that.”

There had to be some reason that she was telling them this, but she didn’t think it was absolution. She didn’t think. “Last time I saw Richard, it was the first week of August.” She’d made the drive with the brand-new six-month sobriety chip in her pocket—homemade, courtesy of Zelda, a shiny plastic party-store coin with three googly eyes super-glued to each side; one for every month since Reece got sober. “I drove up from Staten Island without calling first, and when I showed up here, he said, ‘Reece, what a pleasant surprise,’ and then I turned and puked on Jerry’s feet, instead. Now, I know what you’re thinking, ‘cause it’s what he was thinking, which is why I told him, ‘don’t worry, I’m not drunk! I’m just pregnant. Also, can I have 500 bucks for an abortion?’ He was quiet for the longest time—like, somebody was on the floor, cleaning my puke off of Jerry, and Richard was still just looking at me. I thought, my God, I’ve finally done it, Mrs. Tristan was right, I’ve given the poor man an aneurysm; I’ve killed him. But then he finally cleared his throat, and he went to get his checkbook. And then he went to get his keys." He'd driven him there himself, Reece silent in the passenger seat, unendurably grateful. "He let me crash here that weekend. And when I left, he, uh—he told me to… to take care of myself, and to… come again soon,” she said, her voice cracking, breaking off, rising up into a reedy, lachrymal pitch. “So, that’s, uh—that’s the last time I saw him.”