#sorry i keep reblogging this post but so long as i have things to add

[stormyrainyday]

more stp screenshots regarding the general sentiment of identity and reality and our relationship to it

apologies this is far from a coherent shower thought but i think it's time we like. decided to detach our identity a bit from the things we do. it's fine to just read. you don't have to be a reader. it's fine to just game. you don't have to be a gamer. you can be those things but i feel like in a quest to find ourselves and open our hearts, especially to others online (because i know, the first thing we do when on a new platform is say hi im [name] i like these things we should talk, i know, i do, my pinned post is literally that), i feel like we forget that we are more than the things we do and even the things we love. we, to borrow words from slay the princess, contain it in our multitudes.

it's a sentiment i've felt for a long time as someone who has been on the internet and in fandom spaces for a good decade now, and like. i find when we hold these things so close that they become us, we become too defensive over them. how many minor fandom disagreements spiral into threats, name calling, doxxing even? i find, especially younger users in fan spaces, tend to take even small differences of opinion and take them personally. saw someone blow up and call people awful names over believing only one person could top in a genshin ship. another left a server i was in because they disliked a popular character, and other (respectfully), decided to share why they did like her. i get that things like rejection sensitivity are a thing, but i think this failure to recognize the self as an entity apart from the things you do and the thoughts you have definitely contribute to this. phenomenon i suppose.

it's genuinely slay the princess that has given me the vocabulary to express and understand this thing i was already thinking. i think, though we are not gods, it's important to understand that we are not things so easily defined. we consist of our thoughts, our actions, our perceptions, our beliefs, and more. even the outside world's perception of us reflects some part of our nature. but not all of it. it's impossible to define oneself in one, two, three words or even an essay.

because like we don't exist in a vacuum. part of our existence is defined in our interactions with others. but not all. never all. there is no one who can truly know you, and we cannot truly know ourselves. our principles bend to the whims of circumstance no matter what we tell ourselves otherwise, so we can't decide what we are or what we would be in a situation for sure, ever. and that's not a bad thing, but if we can't ever truly know ourselves, then how can we assign such great importance to something as superficial as the things we enjoy sometimes?

we are both a constant and the capacity to change. and to take just a handful of things and call it your identity, even subconsciously, is a disservice to the self. in an effort to be seen we break ourselves down into easy (i hate to say it but) marketable pieces.

take being a reader for example. it has always felt like vague slang for booksmart, thoughtful, likely quiet and introverted as well, just as much as it means "i like to read books". theres an aesthetic to it involved, and a whole subculture. do you write in your books? do you keep them museum-fresh quality? do you read smut or classics or high fantasy or satire and what does it say about you? if you say audiobooks aren't real literature, are you signalling to others about quality and sophistication, or are you a pretentious asshole, and ableist to boot? these connotations assigned to such an otherwise benign thing about someone are i think are reflective of the construct of identity and perception. i could go on about it in a way that's more coherent but i, a student, have other things to do right now.

(does being a student make me intelligent? does it impress you to know i study medicine? what if i told you i average Cs in my classes? what if i told you i dislike patient care? what if i told you i'm not here for the money OR to make the world a better place, and that i'm here purely to serve my curiosities about the way the body functions and to absolve my obsessive need to understand just what are we? does this change what you think of me? does it matter? what if you knew the guilt i felt for seeing so much suffering, but still hating patient care enough to worry endlessly about being stuck in it as a career? am i better for it? but i have not acted on this guilt. it is a mere feeling that only i know. knew. is it different now that i've confessed it? does it matter? does any of it change who i am, fundamentally? or am i a thing detached from it all? or. as i like to believe. is it both? your shifting perceptions of me and the way i change shape and form (so much like our beloved princess in slay the princess) in your eyes, they make up me just as much as the soul or the self or whatever other philosophical name you assign to it. at the end of the day, isn't the most important thing that i am just me? both devoid of and constituted of the sum of my parts? what is found in the spaces between my cells? impulses and chemicals. is that me? is it all me? can i ever really know it? and why, why, why define it at all?)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 10

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: back to work but still hurting.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You’re grateful only for the reprieve of Sy’s shower. He spends at least an hour in the bathroom but it’s not nearly enough time to figure this out. He’s not going anywhere and you have no way of changing that. And with how things are going, it won’t be long before you’re entirely trapped with him. 

The helplessness suffocates you. You slowly get up, needing to do something, anything to keep your thoughts from spiralling further. Or him. 

You go to the kitchen and pull out some chicken. Even with your recent shop, what you have won’t last. Not with two people. You marinate the tender breast as you pull out the jasmine rice and your mini rice cooker. Everything you have is built for one, it’s another reminder that he’s invaded your life. 

The bathroom door opens and you stay hidden in the kitchen. It’s only as he calls your name that you poke your head out. You don’t want him to think you’ve tried to escape again. Imagine that, escaping your own life. 

“Here,” you squeak and your mouth hangs open. He stands in only a towel. It’s low enough that the trail of hair along his stomach grows thicker just above the knot. Your lashes flick and you cough, “just starting dinner. Jerk chicken and... and rice.” 

“Sounds delicious,” he grins and runs his fingers through his beard. “Much better than field rations, eh, Aika?” 

He whistles at the dog and she perks her ears up. Sy sighs and drops his arms, smiling at you dreamily. Your eyes wander to the scars all over his body; a thick raised one along his ribs and smaller ones flecked along his shoulder and a line on his lower stomach. 

“I’ll get dressed,” he rubs his hands together, “can’t be eatin’ in my towel, huh?” 

“Sure, uh, I... I’ll be in here.” 

You go back into the kitchen and stare at the rice maker. You see the reflection of his scarred mind in his body. Again you can’t help the rent in your heart. That sympathy that underlines your fear. He’s a tortured soul but not one you can soothe. You don't know where to begin. 

You put the chicken in the oven and set the rice to cook. Next you look for a veggie. Broccoli. Standard. You’ll add a bit of seasoning. You’re not very hungry, even as the aromas rise in the air. 

“God, it’s hot in here,” Sy growls as he appears in the doorway that opens to the dining space.  

“It’s the oven,” you say as rinse the head of broccoli, “sorry.” 

“Ah, you know, it’s not half so bad as the desert,” he chuckles, “Aika knows. The way the sand gets all in your mouth and—and everywhere else.” 

“I can’t imagine,” you murmur, “wouldn’t be a day at the beach, I’m sure.” 

“Mm, no,” he agrees as he leans on the wall, “not a bad idea. I could take ya down for a beach day. We could get some good pictures. A few videos.” 

“Maybe, I don’t know,” you focus on your task. You put the broccoli on the cutting board and pull out a knife. 

“You want me to get that, sweetie? Don’t wanna cut yourself now,” he pushes away from the wall. 

“No, I got it,” you line up the knife and chop the head in half. He winces. 

“It’s dangerous, you got a smaller one?” 

“Really, Sy, I’m fine,” you insist as he looms closer, “let me just get dinner ready and you can sit--” you hiss as you pull your finger back at the sudden slip. 

“I told ya,” he accuses as he grabs your hand and examines it. His grip is iron and you don’t resist. There’s no blood. 

“It was just my nail,” you wiggle the top of your finger, “please--” 

“Let me do it,” he insists and reaches for your other hand, “give me the knife, sweetie.” 

You hesitate but hand it over. You’re not sure why he’s so nervous about it. Still, there’s no sense fighting over sharp objects. 

“We gotta work together, don’t we?” He says as he chops.  

“Sure,” you agree thinly. 

You turn to get a sheet pan for the broccoli. You’ll dress in oil and some spices, maybe a bit of lemon juice. As you lay parchment paper over it, he drops the knife in the sink. 

He remains, crowding you as he watches you work. You spread out the little branches and drizzle them over. You put them in beside the chicken and rinse off your hands. You dry off and glance over at Sy. He's watching you. 

“You really don’t have to stay out here,” you say. 

“I like being around you,” he grins, “still can’t believe it’s real.” 

Me neither, you think. 

“Well, all that’s left is the waiting,” you set a timer, “so...” 

“Ah, well, s’pose we can do that on the couch.” 

“Oh, well, I was gonna get the laundry together,” you say, the excuse popping up spontaneously. 

“Why don’t you wait ‘til tomorrow?” 

“Right, uh, I wanted to get it done. I need to get back to my commissions tomorrow.” 

“Mmm,” he hums flatly, “you work too hard.” 

You withhold a mean thought. He hasn’t mentioned work since he showed up. What about that desk he was talking about? You know better than to challenge him. You’ll keep the peace as long as you have to. Get through dinner then worry about the real test; bedtime. 

“Alright, let’s sit,” you relent and reach for his large hand.  

It’s not an affectionate gesture, merely appeasing. You can still hear his voice booming and the thump his skull made on the wall. Not to mention the state of his face and the dent in your wall. You can’t forget what he’s capable of. You can’t deny that you’re lucky he only hurt himself. 

He lets you guide him out of the kitchen and you try not to show your reticence. You won’t think of what happened on the couch last time. Besides, you can’t leave the food to burn. 

💗

You eat at the table. It’s an excuse for some space. As you waited for the timer to save you, you were trapped in his embrace. His constant touching and cooing. You should be flattered when someone tells you you’re pretty and perfect but he just makes you want to combust. 

You can hardly stay still. You clear the table and tidy up what mess is left in the kitchen. You can hear him prowling in the other room. You wipe down the table and peek up as he stops to watch you. 

“Almost done?” He asks. 

“Sure, uh, I’ll finish and get washed up for the night.” 

“Washed up?” He echoes. 

“Brush my teeth, wash my face, all that,” you explain. 

“Oh, yeah, makes sense.” 

“What about Aika? She need to go out?” 

He stops and looks at the dog, still laying at the door. 

“She should,” he intones grimly, “I’ll take her then.” 

He disappears into the bedroom as you let out a breath. It’s not much. You know you’re just putting off the inevitable. He reemerges with the jangle of keys and you see your phone case peeking out of a pocket in his cargo shorts. He might seem scattered but there’s something about him that assures you he’s just as calculated. 

“I’ll be back,” he assures and stops just by the door, “sure you don’t wanna come with us?” 

You rinse off the cloth and shake it out. 

“I’ll be fine.” 

“You should come...” he mumbles. 

“Sy,” you go to the doorway parallel to the apartment door, “I promise, I won’t go anywhere.” 

You have nowhere to go. 

He stares at you. His looks pale and drawn. He cracks his neck as he tilts his head one way then the other. He lets out a long exhale as he sets his head straight and he steps closer. Aika stands, her paws scuffing on the hardwood. You gulp as he makes himself bigger and glares down at you. 

“I know you won’t,” he says quietly, “because you know I’ll follow you anywhere, don’t you, sweetie?” 

You bat your lashes and gulp. You nod, “yes, captain.” 

His lips curve and he reaches to grab you, cradling the back of your head as he pulls you close and kisses your forehead, “good girl. Get nice and fresh for me.” 

He lets you go with a growl and you stand frozen between the counters. Aika watches him with her doleful eyes as he steps into his boots. He opens the door and points her out, not bothering to take the leash with him. She looks at you, wiggling her nose, before she goes. 

The door snaps shut behind Sy and jolt you. You can’t shake the grit in his voice. The subliminal threats laced into his proclamation of devotion. He found you and he’ll find you again, so why bother trying to run? 

You shut off the kitchen light and flit into the bedroom. You gather up a set of pajamas. A white tee and short pairing with little sliced oranges stamped into the fabric. You lock yourself in the bathroom and face yourself in the mirror. You look just as afraid as you feel. 

You lay out the pajamas to one side of the sink and put on the fluffy headband that keeps your hair out of the way. You start your usual routine, the familiarity the only comfort you have left. Brushing flossing, exfoliating, moisturizing, and toning. It’s the little things you started to make yourself feel better but they just aren’t working this time. 

You hear him return as you button up the pajama top. You stare at the door with dread and gather up your shirt and skirt, along with your panties and bra. You teeter on the balls of your feet, trying to find whatever you might call courage. He gets there first. 

The knock makes you jump. You quickly go to the door and flip back the lock. He opens the door from the other side before you can. 

“Everything okay?” He asks. 

“Yes,” you answer dumbly as you hug your armful of clothes. 

“Oh, you look... nice. Refreshed.” 

“Um, yeah,” you say as you waver. There’s no room to get around him. 

He steps back and waves you out. You carry the clothing into the bedroom to dump in the hamper and turn to find him looming in the doorway. Great. 

“You smell good,” he purrs as he peels off his shirt. 

“Did you lock the door?” You ask. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout that. You got me here to take care of ya,” he scoffs and hurls the shirt so it just barely clings to the side of the hamper. “Those are some cute jammies.” 

“Oh, uh, thanks,” you look down and pinch the sides of the shorts. 

“Long day,” he stretches and drops his arms, unbuttoning his shorts shamelessly. 

“Yep,” you agree, “be nice to sleep.” 

You go to the edge of the bed and slip beneath the duvet. You tuck your chin down as you hug yourself beneath the fluffy cover and keep your back to him. He flips the light off and you nearly whimper. The bed dips behind you and cool air flows under the blanket as he climbs in behind you. 

You’re not surprised when he swathes you in his thick arm. He pulls you against him, his furry chest flush to you as he purrs. You grasp his forearm and squirm as his heat surrounds you. He nuzzles your hair and plumes hot breath over your scalp. 

“Ain’t this nice? I could spend every night like this,” he growls as he keeps you curled up in one arm as his other hand trails down your side. “Never slept much over in the s—over there.” 

You squeak and stare into the static darkness. You tremble and force out a yawn. Maybe he’ll get the hint. For once. 

“I’m tired too, sweetie,” he toys with the bottom button on your shirt, “I know I’ll sleep all nice and cozy with you.”  

His fingers tickle your lower stomach and crawl beneath the cotton. You go rigid as he creeps up your soft flesh and you latch onto him as you try to stop him. He presses his lips to your crown. 

“Don’t be bad,” he warns in a gristle. 

You let him go with a babble. He brings his hand to cover one side of your chest. He squeezes and lets out a raspy groan. He rolls his hips and you feel he’s in need again. You close your eyes and brace yourself. It’s worse than the couch. You’ve laid yourself down in his trap. 

“You’re so soft, sweetie,” he fondles you, swirling his rough fingertips around your nipple, “so warm...” he inhales your scent and snarls, “you got me hurtin’ so bad.” 

[itsfairly]

Saying Out Loud // Nanami Kento x gn!reader

word count: 1.5k

cw: none.

notes: HAPPY PRIDE YALL! i normally post once a month, but lets pretend last post was the make-up for may and this one is june's. either way, fits the month, right?

liked this? show it with a like, reblog, and/or comment. each is greatly appreciated and celebrated!

"I'm bisexual," you said with a small crack towards the end of your words.

your eyes were constantly shifting between his, searching for any reaction or response from Kento as your fingers fidgeted with each other in an effort to calm your nerves.

it was so uncomfortable, so tense, so terrifying. you know this stuff is told at the beginning of a relationship, not months into it, but things with Kento were going so well. you've never felt so calm around someone, so loved in the most simple yet concrete ways, that a relationship could be so easy and rewarding as this one with him. you wanted to hold on to this stage, this moment where things flowed perfectly and the world seemed to say yes, these two are meant for each other. that's why you took so long to tell him.

after all, how many people treated you differently after they learned this about you?

sorry, its just that i dont want to date someone who will make me look over my shoulder to see if they are being faithful.

what? so you're just gonna leave me when you want to date a man or something?

does that mean we can have a threesome?

its was as if there mere mention of your bisexuality was a burden to them or some sort of fetish. it was exhausting and no matter how much you tried to be fine with it, you weren't.

it wasnt like you didnt trust Kento, he had been nothing but respectful to you and such a gentleman. but god, did those relationships screw up your confidence in this area...you thought you could keep this to yourself, but then again, he deserved to know before things went any further, to walk out if this wasn't what he hoped. you would get it even if it was unfair.

with every second his eyes looked into yours, taking in your words with that stoic expression of his that you could barely read at the moment, the fear was growing in your chest. It kept expanding until it reached your lungs and had to take deep breaths to appear calm about this when you were scared shitless. what would he say? why was he taking so long? he wants to break up, doesn't he? of course, he-

"what made you want to tell me now?" Kento asked, his voice calm as ever as if he was asking where you wanted to have lunch, making you wonder if he was even understanding the severity of your words.

"we've been dating for months now, exclusively even, and you deserved to know before things got serious," you said, feeling your heart race with every word you said. hell, you wondered how you managed to speak so clearly with these many thoughts in your head.

"but are you telling me because you want to or because you felt like you have to?" Kento asked, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at you with furrowed eyebrows, his eyes showing this concern.

that made you blink a few times. this wasn't the kind of reaction you usually received. you were bracing yourself to hear any apprehension, maybe for him to reject or twist your words, but not to see him worried for you like this.

"i told you, we have been dating for a few months and it would be fair if i kept this from you-"

"but its not fair to force yourself either." Kento interrupted you, his words having this firm yet soft tone to them.

his hands reached out to one of yours, covering it completely in his hold. a steady hold opposite to the fidgeting of your fingers, but in his hands, your hand had no choice but to relax.

"you look so stiff you might break, try and take a breath," he adds, his head tilting to the side as his expression softened.

you do just that, mirroring Kento as he also took a deep breath to encourage you to do the same, and while it did help with the nerves, it didn't relieve your confusion. he wasn't saying much on your coming out, he hadn't say a single word about it yet.

"i wanted—want to tell you because i don't want you to find out later on after investing so much in me and just...you don't need to waste your time if someone like me isn't what you were looking for," you explained.

of course you wanted to tell him, but it didn't took away how scary coming out is, especially when the person you're coming out to is so special and you want them in your life regardless. you didn't want to lose him, but you also didn't want to deceive him like this. maybe you did had to push yourself to say it, not wanting to ruin things so quickly, but you couldn't wait any longer.

Kento sighs, making your heart stop for a second. Was he disappointed? Infuriated? Angry?

But when you heard his words as he squeezed your hand, you were surprised to learn how far off you were...

"i must be awful at making it clear that you're exactly who I'm looking for."

suddenly, its as if your heart gains this new energy, beating and beating as if you just ran a marathon. your mouth feels dry as youfeel your brows knitting together, feeling as if this conversation was bringing more surprises to you than to him.

"you don't care that i'm bi?" you asked quietly, your hand squeezing his back in hopes you didn't hear him wrong.

Kento shakes his head, "i do, but not in the way you think," he says, a shadow of a smile coming to the corner of his lip as he scoots closer to you. His eyes look at yours, silently asking if that was okay. You nod.

"i care, not because it annoys me—i would be an asshole if that were the case—, but because i'm learning about you. The you that you feel most authentic to. While i am happy that you are opening up to me about something so important to you, i wished you would feel more comfortable telling me about it because you were ready, not because you felt pressured to. i'm sorry if i made you feel that."

you didnt know what it was at this point, whether it was the adrenaline or sweetness of the moment, but you knew Kento was the reason with all these words he was saying. he wasn't anything like anyone you'd dated before, he was being so sweet and just a dream. you never thought your chest could swell with this feeling while coming out to someone. it felt...easy.

you quickly shake your head, your turn to scoot over to him with your knees bumping against his. "no, no! you didn't pressure me in any way, Kento. its just that i know how much of a dealbreaker this is to some and i..." you took in a deep breath, feeling your throat hitch with this lump, "god, you have no idea how relieving it is to hear that."

you didn't wait a second longer before you wrapped you arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug as you rested your forehead in his shoulder. you felt his arms wrapped around you in return, pulling you closer to his body as his hand caressed your back in soothing circles that made your heart calm down.

"someone like you is special," Kento says softly, his breath tickling your ear, "you're choosing me over anyone else, and i feel so honored that you are with me."

you laughed softly, pulling your head back from his shoulder and looking at him with a huge grin. god, he made this so, so easy.

"kento, you have no idea what this means to me. No idea how easy it is to feel lucky right now." You said quietly, taking a deep breath before resting your forehead against his, "thank you, just thank you."

Kento hums, his hand coming up to your scalp to stroke your hair gently. hearing all your words and seeing all the emotions you wore on your sleeve made him realize how big of a step this was for you, how heavy of a topic this was on you. it didn't take a genius to know that this reaction from you meant that this situation didn't went as well in the past with other people, which made his heart hurt for you. Sweet you who thought about him first before herself when this wasn't about him.

more than ever, Kento would make sure that you felt comfortable in your skin and secure in your relationship. you deserved nothing less than that and you were worth investing in as you said in your own words, though he would much rather call it loving you. it sounded more accurate to what he wanted to do.

"you know, now i have to put more effort into our relationship," Kento said softly, a hint of playfulness in his voice, "after all, I'm showing you off to double the people, aren't i?"

[yooglefics]

The casual type: 05 . The art of paying attention

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader Wordcount: 3,354 words Genre ( for the whole series ): AU. College!verse. Strangers to friends with benefits to ???. Eventual smut. Hurt / comfort at times. Fluff for cute friends. Summary:  ( Series ) • Hobi and his girlfriend set you up with a friend of hers to help with whatever happened months back. However, no one really expected things to end the way they did. ( Ep. 05 ) • Sometime the little details mean more than people think. More info under read more.

Includes ( this chapter ): The squad<3. Subin my love. And other new characters. A kind of out of nowhere jump in time ( just a few weeks ) because the writing just flowed like that, I don't know what to tell you. A mini-drama ( this is the spoiler I posted on ko-fi the other week ) and a bigger drama.  Author's note: so… I'm sorry this took so long to be updated Y_Y As you may know, inspiration hasn't been too good these days, but after some lovely comments and knowing people are interested in this story, I finally finished this chapter, so thank you! Also, let me know if you figured out what the drama was before the end, or if you had a theory about it, etc. Hopefully you like this one, and remember to leave a comment, reblog, send an ask, follow or what not, to help my motivation. Thank you for reading <3

“Kang Subin, queer and honorable member of the divorced parents club.” Is how your roommate introduces herself friday night, pointing to the latter as the reason she is only now, a month after classes started, arriving to campus and the city in general. 

She says her dad insisted on doing a year abroad as he did, assisting to his Alma Mater and hopefully fall in love with the city to move full time with him. And she did love it… a little too much. She admits the change of scenery was liberating, she could be a totally different Subin from the one in Seoul, and sadly that meant neglecting her notes and putting at risk her art history degree.

You're glad to note she will be joining you ( and some of your friends on occasion ) for classes, since she managed to keep her notes high enough to not lose her first semester. And then you spend the weekend getting to know each other, practically becoming friends overnight. Subin says it must be a you thing, and shaking your head no, you confess essentially begging the administration for a roommate because you're stuck with silly boys and all girls hate you because you aren't cool like them. She laughs, asks if that means the plan is making everyone hate her too and be stuck with you. And you freak out a little, but her laugh keeps flowing across the dormroom and you know she is joking; you know that things would be fine.

Monday arrives and between classes, you continue to give Subin small tours of the campus, mostly the art building and where all the vending machines are. 

“There's more than I thought, could you make me a map?” She jokingly asks.

“I'll ask Jungkook for the one we made last semester,” you know he has it because it was offered to Yoongi before.

“Hey, y/n!” calls Taehyung, appearing at the other end of the hall with Yoongi, and when he asks “you got some gum?”, you know they were just on a smoke break.

“Oh, hi, Tae. Nice to see you.” Sarcastic tone all over it, “are you having a nice morning?”

He rolls his eyes and Yoongi laughs at his side.

“Sorry, I'm actually not. And I'm running late,” still you give him a look and as a little kid he repends. “Hi, you guys look pretty today, as alway.” He adds before you can argue anything, and only then Subin chuckles, understanding this must be part of your dynamic. “Do you happen to have some gum for us, your lovely friends?”

“Yes, actually.” Taking one strap off, you move your backpack to your front, looking for the little package they keep stealing from. “Here,” you hand one wrapper to Tae, who starts running in the other direction immediately, screaming how much he loves you. And a “nice to meet you!” to Subin.

Everyone laughs, Yoongi turning back in your direction after Taehyung disappears down the hallway.

“You want one?” You ask and before being able to stop yourself, you add, “Is cherry, though” 

“Of course it is,” he smiles and you look away, pretending it's only to search for another one to offer Subin. Memories of friday’s night invading your psyche and shyness your whole body. 

Well, that's your own fault.

“Thank you,” she says, looking at the two of you while unwrapping it. “I'm Subin, by the way, the new roommate.” 

“Oh, she actually found one!”

“Just hoping she doesn't abandon me too,” you pout and Subin wraps one arm around yours.

“Never.”

“Yoongi,” He introduces, thumb pointing to himself and then behind, “And that was Taehyung, but I guess you'd meet the whole squad later.”

“Ah, yeah. I've been told she collects cute guys.”

“Did someone actually say that?” Yoongi asks when you're not even surprised.

“Yeah and when I asked about girls she looked relieved,” subin goes on, “I actually wanted to know, you know.”

Yoongi and you laugh, “someone doesn't like competition,” both say in unison.

“I told you, they lied.”

“Well, I can't really say that yet. I've to look first,” Subin insists, walking through the cafeteria's door. And it doesn't bother you because it comes from a place of curiosity and not horniness. No shame to anyone, your friends are hot, but you've known them for so long and know they have other great attributes that sometimes it feels superficial and it bothers you.

Besides, as a friend, you need to keep their egos just high enough to be healthy for everyone involved.

“Listen, kids,” calling for the table's attention, you stand in front of them, “this is Subin, my—”

“New roommate?” Asks Jungkook, remembering the text you sent, and you nod excitedly.

“That's Jungkook, he is in music and sports.”

“Which ones?”

“All. Some. We don't have time for that,” you joke, but only continue with the rest of his introduction after the youngest clarifies is soccer and box this year. “Oh, he also takes an art class with Taehyung and I, and now you, this semester. You know Tae from earlier, the one who keeps stealing my gum.”

“You're the one that tells me to not show up to class with cigarette breath!” He pushes back against accusations.

“I think she wants you to buy your own,” Jimin suggests.

“Or quit,” adds Hobi and the table laughs even more.

“That’s Hobi, the group's mom.” Tae offers after.

“Does that make Mai the dad?” Jungkook asks, with a serious expression on his face.

“I'm telling her so,” Yoongi says, already phone in hand and texting his best friend.

“You'll have to meet Mai later, she is great,” you continue, “but Tae is in arts. And Hobi and Jimin, are both dancers,” index finger pointing at their direction as you say each name, “and well, you already know that's Yoongi, he is in music too.”

“And the last new guy, right?” Subin remembers from your talk earlier after she met him for the first time, “I guess I took your title.”

“Are we enemies now?” He jokes, “I was about to offer you my chair, but now I don't know.”

Again, laughs all around and before anyone can think about the sitting arrangement too seriously, Jungkook is standing up, saying he needs to go back to the house before his next class.

“Oh, you are the biker from friday!” Subin exclaims as Jungkook’s helmet comes into view, everyone turning to look at her, “can't believe I forgot to ask you.”

And then five pairs of eyes are on you, all but Yoongi's, since he doesn't need an explanation. 

“...What?” Asks Tae, finally.

“Had to call her to my rescue because I lost my key and from the hallway's window I saw someone drop her off on a motorcycle,” she explains, “that's when the girl told me about you collecting cute guys.”

“But that wasn't me,” says Jungkook.

“Yeah, you weren't with us that night. We were all at the house, so who was it?” Ask Jimin, and the curiosity in his voice makes you nervous. You have never lied to them, and starting right now without preparation is terrifying.

However nothing compares to the feeling on your stomach when Yoongi answers, “it was me, actually.” And without a beat, your friends are looking at him now, “What?”

“You what now?” Mister interrogation Tae goes on, “Why were you together? What time was it? Was it late?”

“You were alone? Why?” Asks Hobi.

“We can't hang out now?” You ask back, wasn't he who set you up in the first place? And yes, it didn't turn out the way they planned it, but wasn't the whole premise to get to know Yoongi?

“Not what I meant,” he corrects, “Just… you didn't say anything.”

“Well, you guys canceled, what were we supposed to do? Not do anything just because you weren't with us?” Yoongi answers before you. 

“And we just hang out, you know, eat junk food and chat. Nothing to write home about.”

“Aww,” coos Jungkook, sliding his arm over your shoulders, “does that mean you missed us? You really love us, uh?” you pull back, sticking your tongue at him and pushing him towards the exit, telling him to hurry because if he is late to class you aren't covering for him again.

Thankfully, that's enough to get them off your back and Subin’s arrival provides better entertainment through the lunch hour, as your friends don't hold back on their questions to get to know her. And you're glad they seem to like her as much as you do.

“So… should I've not mentioned the bike thing?” worries Subin later, when everyone has left and is only her and Yoongi at the table.

“Don't worry about it.” He reassures her, offering a tangerine slice when she doesn't return the smile. “Seriously.” 

Is not her fault, he thinks. He can't blame the guys either for wondering and going into big brother mode as soon as they hear you're hanging out with someone, since the prevalence of that is not the best right now. And although he does feels bad about keeping things a secret from them, mostly Hoseok, who Yoongi himself give the “you better be careful with what you do with my best friend” talk, it consoles him a bit to know that the both of you are on the same page with what you have. 

Maybe if they knew it wouldn't be a big deal, he thinks. Better him than anyone else, right?

Putting away your phone and with the excuse of going to the bathroom before class, Subin and Tae follow their journey to the second floor without you and without suspecting anything. As you walk in front of one of the classrooms, a hand wraps around your forearm and pulls you in.

“What th—!” scream is interrupted when you recognize Yoongi. “You almost gave me a heart attack! I could've punched you.” And with adrenaline still running through your body, you actually push his shoulder with less force than you first intended.

“Ouch.” He rubs the place you hit, dramatically, as he explains, “Sorry, I panicked. There were people around and I didn't want to scream your name”

“Yeah, we should be careful after what happened at the cafeteria. Good save, by the way.”

“You own me,” he quickly returns.

“I do not,” you deny, crossing your arms, “You were the one insisting on going into the parking lot, I told you to leave me at the gate.”

“Well, forgive me for being a gentleman.”

You laugh, “and modest.”

Yoongi smiles, relaxing his body against the wall beside the door, “are you telling Subin about us?” he asks before you can question him about why he asked to meet.

Uncrossing your arms, you fiddle with your nails instead, scratching the acrylic paint off of them. “What is your opinion on that?”

“You can't answer a question with a question, miss.”

“Well… I don't know.” Is your final answer after a few seconds of silence. “She is cool and I really think we’re going to be friends and maybe I can gossip to her about you.”

He chuckles at that.

“And also she said sorry and asked if it was supposed to be a secret.”

“Really?” Yoongi sounds surprised, “She asked me that too earlier and I told her to not worry.”

“I feel bad about it because it seems like she is actually worried she messed up,” you share, “maybe I should just come clean. Only to her, at least. But of course not, if you don't want to.”

“No, it's okay. I think is good you have someone to talk to. And she seems nice.”

You nod in agreement, relieved you don't have to start hiding things from Subin as soon as you two met.

“Also,” Yoongi goes on, holding your hips and bringing you closer to him. You allow him to without much thinking. “It was nothing to write home about?”

“What?” 

“Friday night, you said that earlier.” 

“Did your ego get hurt?” You tease.

“No. But I didn't know you were a liar.” he throws back and you laugh. “I'm going to call you Pinocchio now.”

At that, you gasp, “stop giving me nicknames!”

And your attempt to pull away is just that, an attempt, because between laughs he holds you closer. “But is funny. And all of them are true.”

“They aren't.”

“Are so.”

“I don't like you.”

“That's not what I got from friday.”

“Yoongiii—.” you gasp again, his laugh louder this time.

Wanting a clarification stops him from dumping his phone back into the duffle bag and so, throwing the strap over his shoulder, he makes his way over to Chris and other teammates. 

“Are you ready to go?” His roommate asks, and Yoongi nods, “good, I'm just waiting for Ha-ri.” 

“Hey!” As they turn around, it is not difficult to recognize her as one of the cheerleaders since she is carrying her pom-poms and all, but is only as they continue talking that Yoongi realizes who she is, “sorry, I was saying goodbye to the girls and planning for next practice.” 

“Don't worry, babe.” 

“You must be Yoongi, hi,” she waves her free hand enthusiastically enough the pendant on her bracelet makes a jiggly sound, catching his attention “welcome to the university. And the team. Go, Bears!”

She seems nice, Yoongi thinks, “Go, bears!” first in the air, he chuckles in response before they all make their way to the parking lot and to Chris’s car.

The drive home is short and filled with questions about his last school and the reason he transferred, which Yoongi manages to give simple and vague answers that satisfy Ha-ri’s curiosity. It definitely helps that he has been questioned about it more than once the last few weeks, giving him more than one chance to practice before today.

The more weeks pass, the less people ask. And soon the mystery of his arrival is pushed to the side as people decide to talk about his accomplishments in the basketball games.

Every now and then someone recognizes him as an ex Tiger's player, and asks why he changed teams, but before anything can get to deep, a “well, now you are on the right team,” or something alike is thrown his way and he couldn't be more glad for the rivalry between the universities.

For what is worth, the change has proven to have been a good decision. Of course he is nostalgic for the past and he misses hanging out with Mai more often, but he has friends, basketball and music. He has even been planning to perform at school events with Jungkook as he did with Jay back then. 

It feels like he is starting to build a new life, and it wasn't as difficult as his brain told him it could be.

With chuseok around the corner the university starts to plan the events for the weekend and some professors feel generous enough to give extra credits for participation. Others just used it as an excuse to make the assignments related to it, that's his and Jungkook’s case.

Yours is the first one, because getting a good grade for hanging out with your friends sounds too good to pass out. That's why for the last few days you have been following them around taking pictures and notes, preparing your article about their performance Saturday night. 

“Are you done?” Yoongi asks from his spot at the end of the bed when you take the headphones off, the ones he made you wear so he wouldn't have to listen to himself on the interview recording.

“Yep. I only need Kook's side and I'm done,” end of the sentence elongates a bit, arms in the air as you stretch your back.

“How long for him to be here? I need him to go over something before he eats and gets a food coma.”

“I'm glad you're already prepared for that,” you giggle, “Because he is not even seeing my texts.”

“He is still busy?”

“Yeah, kissing someone for sure. Does he think I don't have things to do too?” 

“Like making out with someone too?” he jokes, putting his guitar down on the bed, deciding to take a break too.

“Why? Are you jealous?” you tease, trying not to laugh and is surprising when you're met with a serious expression as you spin around on his desk chair.

 “I thought the rule was to tell if there were other people.”

“I'm just kidding,”

“Wow, a comedian.” he rolls his eyes, and you know he is only pretending to be annoyed.

So, you push. “I'm funnier than you, don't get mad.”

“Cocky.” 

“What, you don't find confidence attractive?”

“Oh, I find a lot of things about you attractive.” 

Touche; you think as a smirk appears proudly on his face and makes you turn around, shy reaction at the security of this voice.

And he laughs. Of course.

“Shut up, Yoongi.”

“If you want to kiss me, just do it,” he only has to stretch a bit to pull on the chair, making you turn to him again and bringing you close.

And you do kiss him.

Not only to erase his stupid and attractive gummy smile, but also because you've missed it.

With projects and exams, with Yoongi not only being in a different major but also in his third year, hanging out only the two of you hasn't happened as much. 

You don't mind. You understand that is not a priority and there is something relaxing about it being an unspoken agreement, something that you truthly appreciate. 

But you would be lying if you said that you didn't miss Yoongi's lips against yours and the way his hand cups your cheek, still gentle as he tries to lead the kiss. 

Looking for closeness, your hand finds balance on his tight, making you contemplate ditching the comfiness of the desk chair for a sit on his lap.

“Is pizza night, baby!” breaks through the house before you can make another move, making you jump and pull away on instinct. Moving out of Yoongi's reach, even hitting the desk with the back of the chair as you stand up in record time.

“Careful,” he murmurs and you don't understand why he isn't freaking out. Even dears to chuckle.

“Min, come out!” another voice calls out.

“That's not Jungkook,” you say as a matter of fact, your brain still in shock.

“I'm starting to think he stood us up.” He stands up, looking at his phone still without texts from the younger guy, “Wanna meet my roommates? They have pizza, apparently.”

And your empty stomach makes the executive decision to hide your shame, and disappointment, in exchange for some food.

You're introduced to Jin first, who introduces Namjoon while taking the knife out of his hand with a “let hyung do it.”

“I swear he never lets me hold a knife for more than five seconds,” he says and you find it adorable, but Namjoon seems genuinely confused and maybe a bit hurt by it. 

You wonder what more there's to that. But before you can ask anything, a third roommate comes out of the kitchen, “Is for your own good and the wellbeing of everyone involved,” he says, making your whole body tense as the familiar voice rings through your ears.

“That's Chris.” Jin says, and you almost answer that you know, but for a second it is even hard to breathe.

Nevertheless, you don't need to say anything, because your silence is everything Yoongi needed to confirm that an introduction isn't necessary and in fact, you'd probably rather forget about him. 

Because is him.

The guy who hurt you.

A/N: I missed writing this! again thank you to anyone who has show interest one way or another, you're the reason this chapter was actually finished uwu♡. A/N 2: I'm working on the intros for the characters that aren't part of the squad, and sometimes I ask for your help with fc's suggestions or names, so... that's something to know if you're interested. Send a tip on ko-fi and get some rewards!!

♡ Tag list: @n33mesis , @mggv97 , @wobblewobble822 , @bbou-doir , @m00njinnie , @nariee02 , @sexytholland , @itsmina29 , @ktownshizzle , @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d , @kimtaehussy .

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[wolfish-trickster]

Pen pal

Geto x fem!reader

College AU

Word count: 12,6K

Summary: After your meme post about your STEM studies is noticed by a kind stranger the two of you start a conversation and become internet friends.

Warnings: cussing, typos, grammar mistakes, probably not accurate for all colleges since I'm using mine as a reference, fluff, angst, slowburn, eventual smut (i'm bad at writing it so sorry)

A/N: wanted to write angsty af, but turned to smut.... enjoy and don't get used to it 😂

You hit send and stretch on your chair, your spine cracks after sitting down and hunching over your laptop for so long. It wasn't the healthiest but once you started writing you couldn't stop. Words in your begged you to let them out into the world. Or rather your final essay.

It took a while but it was finally finished. A week in advance, might you add. With this thing off your hands you could finally relax and concider the first year of your college to be officially over. All finals done and graded, no fails or retakes. And you have three months of doing absolutely nothing before you.

You smiled looking at the mail to the professor, your essay attached and secured.

Wait a minute.

The file you saved and attached has a different name than your final version.

You panic, quickly attach the file titled "final draft" and write: I'm sosorry mr prof i acidentally sentd the wrong file, this is the corr.rect one.

Only after you hit send did you notice all the typos but frankly you didn't care. Even this little embarassment was way better than your little what you deem funny notes written everywhere in your essays. It's like a fun excercise for you, using humor to keep your brain from falling asleep and potentionally hitting a block.

"Calm down heart, everything is okay," you whisper to yourself, "look, the correct version is there. Now you can start a summer break. So please, stop beating so fast."

But your heart knew something you didn't yet and kept rapidly beating. You stared at the new mail. The correct file was right there so why-

You didn't copy the conclusion from the draft to the final file. You checked the final draft just in case and sure enough the three paragraphs you wrote ten minutes ago weren't there.

"How can I be this fucking stupid?!" you cussed at yourself while you were pressing ctrl, c and v keys fixing your mistake.

This time you took deep breaths, wrote gramatically correct apology, attached the correct file (which you opened before you attached it) and finally hit send.

You finally calmed down. Now that you think about it the poor professor of yours will be so confused but amused as well. You chuckled to yourself and already formed a meme in your head.

After couple of minutes it was shining proudly on your laptop screen:

Maybe it was the sleep deprived state you were in or the hilarity of your dumbness but right now you though this was the funniest meme you've ever created. You proudly logged on your tumblr account and posted it.

Your blog was relatively small, only reblogging interesting pictures and almost never making your own original posts. And even those you did make didn't get any recognision so you started treating it as your own personal diary. Venting about stuff that went wrong in your life, making memes either about things happening to you or after your brain once again made a weird connection between two subjects discussed in class. Almost no one but you found them funny, hence the lack of notes under your posts but you stopped caring a long time ago. You found them funny and it was all that mattered.

But now all that matter was you finally getting a good night's sleep with no stress, no alarm waking you up early to study, absolutely nothing.

Being dumb as always you forgot to turn off your usual 7am alarm. Groaning you rached for your phone and with one eye still closed you tried turning it off. Only to notice something unusual. You got a notification. From tumblr. Someone liked your post. And commented too!

All sleepiness left your body as you quickly went into the app on your phone and checked the notes.

⬛ black-swallow commented: damn and here i thought i was the only one making dumb mistakes in college 😂

For your first ever comment it was certainly...something. You didn't know whether to comment back playfully or leave it. But out of pure curiosity you commented back.

@ black-swallow yeah nah, there are more of us. Btw what was the dumbest thing you did?

The reply would probably take a while, if ever, so you started your morning routine: skin care, brush your teeth, hair, etc.

As you sat down with your breakfast you checked the notes and surprisingly your new buddy commented back.

⬛️ black-swallow: i basically did the same thing you did with your essay, but i did it with my application. Had to send it four times...

You almost spit out your water. Four times? Poor fella. Must've been so stressed.

@ black-swallow oh that sounds really stressful. But hey you got in in the end!

⬛️ black-swallow: yeah, and got kicked out too :')

Okay now's the time to stop talking, unless you want to embarass yourself even further. Cringing at yourself you closed the app and turned off your phone. First person you interacted with on that god darn app and you embarass yourself like that. Unbelievable.

After finishing breakfast you had no plans for the day. Other than enjoying your fellow freshmen stress about their finals which you since long passed. You just propped up your legs and relaxed. Until you heard another tumblr notification.

But this time it was a dm.

Sorry to bother you like this but can i ask what does bioarcheology mean? Sounds terrifying.

"Calm down," you said to yourself, "it's just a dm, nothing difficult. Besides this person sounds nice. They don't know you, they can't see you, they can't hurt you."

The years of your parents beating your head with 'don't talk to strangers online' went out the window the moment you replied to the very first person reaching out to you through internet.

Nothing interesting really, i picked that class for extra credit anyways 😅

The reply came in imediately. You and this person must be in the same timezones. How lucky!

Come on, don't be so humble. When i passed my first scary sounding class i was talking about it to everyone willing to listen

Well, what was your scary sounding class then?

Biophysics

Holy 💀 physics alone is hell but mixing it with biology as well?

Ikr? Honestly some lectures were really interesting but others were like a lullaby for me 😴

I understand, some bioarcheology lectures were boring for me too. By the way what college are you on?

*were. Medicine.

Sorry, i forgot 😣 and yeah, should've guessed... sorry

Hey it's okay. And don't apologize, maybe things were supposed to be like this

What do you mean?

I wasn't feeling very well on that school, i just didn't wanna quit in the first year. And before you ask i dropped out after second

So you were forcing yourself to stay on a school you didn't like anymore for two years?

Yup. Everyone else had gotten to the schools they wanted and loved it, i felt like i was wasting my time but if i left willingly only after a year i would be a year behind everyone else. So i left it up for fate

And fate decided to kick you out

True to that. But i still like science, just not the medicine part of it...

After studying biophysics i'm not even surprised...

It took your college drop out some time to write a reply so you made yourself a cup of your favourite tea, force of habit since you studied with it too. So far you're starting to like texting with some complete stranger. Getting to know their story. Is this why people casually slide into others' dms?

Your friend finally replied.

Sorry, my roommate needed help with packing. As for your last message there were lots of other classes that were equally if not harder than biophysics, but all of them either dealt with anatomy or physiology which is basically memorizing. When it comes to finding patterns and math and using logic i'm pretty slow

You chuckled and typed a reply.

You'd like it on my college then. Lots of memorizing, very little logic. Which sucks for me because i'm the exact opposite 😂

Well, now that i'm a free man and know an insider i just might apply 👀

So now that you know he's a man. Okay, you can live with that. Even though you felt a tad more nervous now that you know something a bit more specific.

What's your school called?

It's the natural science one. The same city as your previous school

You vividly remember your bus passing by the best medical school in your entire country. You just hope he really was attending that one and not a different, less prestigeus one.

Natural science? So STEM in other words

Basically

Yeah i know which one. Coincidentally after highschool that one was my second choice in case med doesn't work out.

See, maybe fate wanted you in STEM all along

Haha, maybe 😂 My name's Suguru Geto by the way

I'm Y/N, nice to meet you :)

*

Summer quickly passed and the only thing you remember was your talks with Geto. They were shy and reserved at the begining, mostly starting with 'how are you?' continued with 'good, and you?' followed by some awkward silent minutes before it evolved into a deep conversation about the immortality of a cockroach.

You found out lots of things about his life. How he met his best friend in highschool, how the two of them and one other girl used to wreak havoc across the town, how they all got into the same college albait with different intentions. The girl called Shoko genuenly wanted to become a doctor dreaming about it her whole life. Geto's best friend Gojo, being very competitive but also a son of a wealthy CEO didn't need to go to a college but wanted to to be with his friends (later he admited to Geto he got into that school just to show Shoko it's not as hard as she said it was). And Geto applied because he had no idea where else to go. He liked science, biology, chemistry, being in lab, creating something new which would help the world. Med school sounded like the clear answer for him, if it wasn't for the boredom he experienced the first semester.

He told you how he struggled in some classes finding them absolutely unnecessary and beneath him, his professor condescendingly talking to them as if they were less than worm beneath the ground if they didn't know an answer. He went above and beyond to at least pass the class hoping next semester would be better. Oh how wrong he was. No matter what he did, no matter how selflessly he helped his classmates they never showed gratitude. When he upped his grade from barely passing to top of the class no one even bat an eye, as if that was a sure thing.

By the time second year came he was so mentally drained he didn't even bother to show up to classes anymore. Why bother if the teachers are just reading the text off of their powerpoint presentation and he has to learn it by himself in the end anyways?

The more he ranted to you the more you pitied him. For you STEM was the first and only path in your life, dreaming about it since you were a kid. For him though? Thinking you finally found your path only to be this utterly disappointed must've been like a stab to the back.

Getting a letter about him being expelled must've been half relieving to him and half disappointing. On one hand you have your freedom of choice back on the other you have the stress of possibly not making it in.

The entire summer wasn't just about him talking to you, no no, he was also a great listener. You complained about mundane things to him and he always answered in matter of minutes. He was always there for you, but now you were the one to be there for him as well.

Y/N i'm so stressed i feel like puking

You'll be fine, don't worry about it. If anything there are lots of plant pots on hallways for you to puke in and fertilize them ^^

As if... i'll go to the deanship like a civilized person thank you very much

Very classy geto 🙄 By the way which place holds the entrance exams? Have you found it?

B1 404, standing infront of it. Why? Did you take it someplace else last year?

No, never had to take it, had grades good enough

Show off

I know 😘

You cringed as you realized what emoji you just sent him. Force of habit from sending it to your friends whenever you manage to prank them. To your surprise he sent you back a winking AND smirking emoji. You blushed. He has never sent you anything flirty or suggestive. Why would he? The two of you didn't even know eachother that well or what the other one looked like. He could be a slimy looking weirdo with a pedo-moustache for all you knew.

Okay Y/N, gotta go now, wish me luck

Always Geto, good luck!

*

Can I ask you something?

It was weird for him to start your everyday conversation with this sentence, you thought.

Sure. Is it something about the school mister accepted?

No, don't worry, i'll get to exploiting you later 😏 I wanted to ask, what do you look like?

If the first message didn't make you blush the second one sure did. You never asked eachother about your appearance. You already made an image of him in your head. The longer you knew him the more your imagination turned him from a questionable weirdo to an almost cute nerd.

You'll see once the semester starts

You really think i can wait that long? Do you even know me? If you're shy would it be better if i showed you how i looked like first?

Yeah, that would be better.

It took couple of minutes before your screen lit up with a new message.

You almost passed out. There's no way someone can look this good in just an oversized tshirt and sweatpants. And a man bun of all things! The jawline, you were pretty sure it could cut diamonds. His eyes, narrow and sharp, with irises dark enough to not even see his pupils. And yet they seemed oddly kind to you.

The longer you looked at the selfie he sent you the more heat rushed to your face. There's no way a guy this gorgeous has been texting with you this entire summer.

That's not you

It is

It isn't! You just googled a model or something

A model you say 😏

That damn emoji will kill you one day. Before you could get a hold of yourself you got another selfie from him. This time he had a post-it note with your name on it between his lips.

Believe me now?

*

It's been a couple of days since he sent you that picture and you still haven't replied. Every morning Geto woke up and checked his phone but still no replies from you. Well, aside from a picture of a naked cat and calling it your nude.

"Your girlfriend still not talking to you?" Gojo asked.

Geto sighed. "Stop calling her my girlfriend. And yes, still nothing. I told you that last selfie would be too much for her."

Gojo took a bite from his apple. "Was worth a try," he said mouth half full of his granny smith, "didn't she send you a pic back?"

Geto showed him his phone screen and Gojo coughed out his chewed peace of apple.

"Ew, you're cleaning it," Geto jumped back from the mix of apple and spit that landed next to him on the couch.

"Hey and whose fault it is to bag a girl with an excellent sense of humor?" Gojo reluctantly went to the kitchen to get a wipe to clean up his mess. "And even if she's ugly her being funny may make up for it."

Geto sighed. "She's just a friend who happens to be my future upperclassman, I don't care if she's ugly. I mean, I'm friends with you afterall," he smirked.

Gojo showed him his tongue while pulling one of his lower eyelids down and left the living room. (A/N: what Gojo just did is like giving someone a middle finger but in japanese way)

*

You were more stressed than ever. Which was partially understandable, you're about to enter the second year of university tomorrow. The assignments, the lab reports, the midterms, the finals.... Your head was already spinning from the amount of studying that's infront of you. And they say the first year is usually the hardest.

But other than the usual fears you had another one called Geto Suguru. A guy you've been talking to the entire summer. A guy who has sent you bunch of winky and smirky faces. And his actual face. Twice.

Since then you'd talked sporadically. Not that he was pestering you about your own face reveal, he was oddly conciderate about you not wanting to show yourself to him just yet. Both of you were just busy. You with buying new supplies for all your classes and him with probably the same.

It wasn't that you thought of yourself as ugly or anything. On your best days you even thought of yourself as quite cute. But compared to other girls around you... you just fell into the background. Forever the side character.

Either way, the closer it got to the first day of the semester the more messages from him blew up your phone every day. Stuff as "where is the xyz class" or "does this professor take attendance every lecture?" was on a daily basis now. Gone were the deep talks or good mornings that made your heart skip a beat even before you knew what the guy sending you these messages even looked like. But you couldn't blame him. New environment. New people. If you were in his place you'd probably act the same.

For the last time you checked your phone for new messages from him. Aside from the one thanking you for a map of the campus nothing new. He must've gone to sleep already, you thought.

Checking your backpack for the last time before bed has soothed your thoughts about possibly bumping into your internet friend tomorrow. You finally went to bed.

*

The bus is usually empty whenever you take it to school. Which you thank all gods for because it's a thirty minute drive and with the amount of walking you still have to do to get to the school you were greatful for always finding an empty seat. Sitting by the window as usual, looking at all those different people going about their morning routine. Kids of all ages going to schools, adults either nervously honking at the car infront of them or taking their dog for a walk with no care in the stressed out world around them. You were stuck inbetween these two worlds. Still burdened with school work but also with adult chores. Stuck in your own personal limbo.

The bus turned right. A huge light blue building appeared in the corner of your eye. Outside the window was the medical school you always passed by kn your way to school. The same medical school your new friend attended few months ago. You started to wonder about him for the first time that day and your usual angxiety returned. How will you meet? And when? Would it be today? Should you approach him if you see him? How will he react?

Your train of thoughts came to a stop just like the bus. Outside the window at the bus stop stood a familiar modelylike face. The same face you took a screenshot of and stared at every day since he sent it to you.

Suguru Geto boarded the same bus. Eyes still half asleep never even looked your direction. He took a seat right infront of you giving you a perfect view of his luscius hair tied in a half up bun. You stared at him as if he was a ghost. You weren't ready to meet him this soon. What should you do? Should you tap him on the shoulder? No. Rather not. You remember how he told you about his morning temper and how he can snap at people if he doesn't get enough sleep.

Out of fear of him snapping at you you pulled your hand back and stared out the window again. You'll bump into him later. Hopefully.

You were tense the rest of the drive to your school. When the bus finally came to your stop you practically sprinted to the bus door and out onto the busy street. Not even bother to look back if Geto gave you a weird look you quickly walked up the stairs and up the hill quickly getting surrounded by fellow students. Some were familiar from the previous year, some were complete strangers. You could easily spot a freshman, by their nervous faces and unsure steps. You looked just the same before.

Now your step was more confident, knowing where to go, but your hands were nervously rubbing eachother. Sometimes you checked behind your shoulder and sure enough Geto was right there towering above most of the students. You had guessed he was tall but that tall?

No matter. Pretty soon your paths would drift apart. He already told you he has a virology lecture which takes place in a completely separate building than your biochemistry labs. If you were lucky you could pass by him in a hall today. You hoped not to though. Sitting behind him has already made your heart nearly beat out of your chest, how would it react if he was walking right towards you?

Suddenly your phone vibrated in your pocket as you walked through the front entrance. It was Geto. You exchanged phone numbers in case he ever needed anything and you weren't online to see his message. Which was what you told him. In reality you really wanted to hear his voice at some point. In a safe distance.

You pulled out your phone and checked to see what he had sent you. It was a picture of the front entrance with a caption "i'm on a highway to hell". You chuckled. Of course he would be into that type of music. Before you turned the phone off something caught your eye. It was the back of your head. Right there in the middle of the picture about to enter the school. You blushed. If only he knew he already took a picture of you.

You only replied with a smiley face and informed him you're already on your way to your first class. He wished you good luck as you did him and both of you stepped into the new chapter of your lives.

*

You traitor

Only a week into the semester and he already scared you half to death. Did he already find out what you looked like?

Why didn't you tell me i have to take organic chemistry again 😫

You sighed in relief.

Sorry buddy. But hey, look at it from the bright side: you already studied all of it once before. And i doubt our organic chemistry is more difficult than yours was

The lectures are fine, already had one this week. But the labs. THE LABS

Come on it can't be that bad. Judging by the pictures of your cooking over the summer, you're quite skilled at measuring and mixing ingredients. It just won't be edible

It's not that. The labs are super boring. You don't acomplish anything during them and their only purpose is for you to learn how to behave in labs in general, how to work with the various tools and how to properly write lab reports. They just prepare you for AFTER you already graduate

Isn't that how all labs are though?

Well, yes. But we at least had little competitions during our morgue classes

YOU WENT TO THE ACTUAL MORGUE 💀

No, don't worry. Me and Satoru called it that. It was actually autopsy room

Satoru. Your friend right?

Yeah

Do you miss him?

Sometimes. i mean we are still roommates but since we have different scheudals we don't get to interact much outside of weekends... But on the bright side as you like to say i can finally focus on the lectures 100%. Before Satoru used to always taunt me into playing tic-tac-toe. I miss the winning tho...

You chuckled. He was so goofy, despite looking really serious every time you caught a sight of him. Maybe he just has a resting homicide face.

Anyways, have to go now. Tomorrow is my first organic chemistry lab

Okay, good night Suguru! Good luck!

:)

What?

You called me Suguru

Only then you realized your mistake.

I'm so sorry 😣

It's fine. I like it. Good night. Sweet dreams <3

*

As unlucky as you were while texting Suguru you were lucky in other aspects. Your morning lecture got cancelled. Which meant you had around two hours of free time. Which you couldn't spend in bed unfortunatelly, because the little remnants of bad luck caused you to read the mail about cancelation only after you were already in school. It was fine tho. You could finally get a taste of true college life.

You got a coffee from school café, bought a sandwitch from the diner, found yourself a couch in a chill zone near the chemistry department, which were usually all full of stressed out or relaxing students, pulled out a laptop and worked on your lab report.

Working came easy to you even though you had rushing students all around you. Even through all the noise and distraction your fingertips still dance across the keys, your mind still produced intelligent sounding senteces. You were about to save the whole file when someone tapped you kn the shoulder.

"Yeah-?" you looked up and nearly died right then and there. It was Suguru. Towering above you with his hair fully pulled up except for a small strand framing his face. Has he found you already?

"Sorry but, do you know where the room CH1 409 is? We're kinda lost and only have like 7 minutes to get there," he said sheepishly as he stepped aside revealing what you assumed were his three lab mates. Two of them were girls. You hated how jealous you started to feel.

"S-sure," you managed to stutter out. "I can take you there actually. It's a little difficult to find and I'm not the best direction giver," you chuckled awkwardly while putting your laptop back to your bag.

"Wonderful! Thank you," said one of Suguru's friends.

You nodded and walked ahead of them. It was a shame you didn't get to hear his voice more. You decided to change it.

"So, you're freshmen," you started. As much as you hated smalltalk you really wanted to hear that smooth baritone of his.

Your unluckiness strikes again. "Yeah, how did you know?" said one of the girls.

"You dummy," told her the other girl, "she knows where the lab is, she's probably had to take the exact same classes as us!"

"Oh, yeah you're right."

"And how do you like it here so far?" you tried again.

"It's great here," answered the guy, "though some classes are pretty difficult. I have no idea how I'll be able to pass."

"Don't worry, if you have motivation you'll pass," you tried encouraging him. "What about you?" you directed your question at Suguru who was walking behind everyone.

He only shrugged. "Don't know, has only been a week. Too short to judge," he answere a bit coldly.

"Oh don't mind him," one of the girls patted your back, "he can be a giant ass sometimes."

Not to me though, you thought. What about all those times he was the sweetest guy with you? Maybe he just hasn't slept well. Yeah, that must be it.

Before you could try to conversate a bit more you arrived at the lab. There were other freshmen already waiting in their lab coats on and their notebooks in hands. Suguru and his friends pulled out their lab coats as well. Disappointed at your very first (albeit unofficial) meeting you turned around to leave when one of the girls stopped you.

"Thank you so much for showing us the way!" she said cheerfully. Behind her stood Suguru. Now that you think about it he was always walking behind her. If you inspected her more closely you noticed she had a miniskirt on with fishnets underneath.

Jealousy is a beast that you usually fight off quite quickly. But today you lost. "Can I give you an advice?"

"Sure," she smiled, her perfectly white teeth stood out against the deep red lipstick she had on.

"Don't wear too much make up to labs, the fumes from chemicals could react with it and burn you. Also tie your hair up," you gestured at her long silky waves while noticing how she tried to hide her big forhead by letting it down, "they could catch on fire."

Hopefully you desguised your pettiness as good enough of an advice. The girl you were talking to seemed convinced as she thanked you prefusely before asking around for a hairtie. The other girl already pulled out hers.

You waved goodbye to the freshmen, mostly Suguru. They waved back, except for Suguru who kept looking at you quizicaly.

Your previous spot on couches was occupied. You opted for a different resting place, near a room where your next lecture will be held in. It wasn't as cozy as the couch but it was free of any people and it had a desk too. No more balancing your laptop on your thighs.

As you sat down you pulled out your laptop, notebook from labs and a phone who was already telling you about one unread message from Suguru.

Met my first unpleasant person in this place

Your heart tightened. Unpleasant?

What do you mean?

However he didn't respond back. Of course he didn't. He had labs. He was probably busy with titration or other bullshit you did a year ago. You will just have to wait.

The waiting took half a day. Right as his labs were finishing your lecture was about to start. And since this professor wasn't one of the kind ones to send you his presentations you had to take notes manually. It took more than two hours for you to finally get on your phone.

We were lost on our way to organic chem labs and i had to ask someone on a way there. The girl was nice, she even lead us there. But then she made some passive agressive comments to my friend

Oh shit. Were you really that bad?

What did the girl say?

Just told her she can't wear that much make up and has to tie her hair back. My friend has acne she masks with the make up and pretty big forhead which she told me she's self conscious of. Whatever that girl was a bitch for saying that to her

You resisted the urge to cry, swallowed the huge lump in your throat and sat down on the nearest bench. You didn't mean to be that bad. Were you really acting like a bitch? Maybe he's just exaggarating. It was only pettiness. It won't happen again.

Those were good advices tho. The fumes from chemicals could mess up with the make up and burn her skin and if she leaned down above a burner her hair could catch on fire

Once you realized how much you sounded like "that bitch" Suguru was talking about you quickly typed another message.

It was the first thing our professor told us and he beat it into our heads every time a girl came in with lose hair

A reply from him came couple of minutes later.

Yeah, maybe you're right. It's just that That girl had a weird look on her face

You had no way of replying to that. Or mood to reply as well. You just wrote him a quick ttyl and went to the bus stop. On your way downhill from the school you felt your face heating up more and more from embarassement. You knew you should've fought with jealousy more. You knew you should've kept your mouth shut. Now that moment will haunt you forever. And not only that, if you ever get enough courage to reveal yourself to him he will instantly remember you as his first unpleasant person in there.

All in all, it was just the first week but you already want the whole semester to end.

*

Couple of weeks passed. Suguru and you texted nearly every day. Mostly after school. Sometimes he teased you by sending you picutres of stray cats near the campus with captions 'this you?' to which you always sent a rolling eye emoji.

Makes me wonder how many times we passed eachother 🤔

Lots, trust me

Whaaa? And you never bothered to talk to me?

We did actually

Your last message made him lean back too much on his chair and fall.

"You okay?" asked Shoko who still visited him and Gojo either out of boredom or nostalgia's sake.

Suguru ignored her concern and quickly shuffled in his memory. He has talked to so many people outside his class already. Mostly asking for directions to different places. But for the love of him he couldn't figure out if he talked to any girls or how many he talked to. Or how they looked like.

Aaaand can you tell me what we talked about?

You were asking for directions to a lab

Do you even know how little that narrows it down? And why are you so talkative today anyways? Did i tell you something rude or?

No. It's biochemistry. I can't figure it out 😭

Aaaw, my poor girl

As much as he liked the flustered reactions whenever he happened to mildly flirt with you he genuenly meant it this time. He remembers his own time figuratively and literally crying over biochemistry. He decided to take a leap of faith.

How about i study with you? I had biochemistry for two whole semesters and passed it by some miracle

You'd do that for me?

Sure. Besides after all the material you've already sent me and how much you already helped me it's about time i helped you back. Otherwise i just feel like a leech

There was no reply from you for couple of minutes and Suguru was affraid he maybe overstepped this invisible line you drew between them.

He heard hushed voices behind his back.

"What?" he snapped a little more annoyed than he intended.

"Is that girl ignoring you again?" Shoko puffed out some smoke from her cigarette.

"She isn't ignoring me," he waved his hand around in the cloud of smoke clearing the air a bit, "it just takes her a little longer."

"Riiight," Shoko put her cigarette between her lips again.

"I don't understand how the two of you haven't met already," Gojo complained. He should be studying along with Shoko but as usual he kept lounging around, dismissing Shoko's comments about him failing this class for sure with that attitude.

"Half of the semester is behind us already and you still have no idea how she looks like."

"She's shy, let her be."

"Aaaw, look how he's defending his girlfriend," Gojo cooed.

Geto glared.

"Soon to be girlfriend," Gojo corrected himself.

"With the way she's talking to me soon to be an ex friend. She's been so distant lately..." he rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Don't worry, maybe she's just busy," Shoko reassured him.

"She did mention something about biochemistry."

"See!"

"Even then, her messages have been rather weird. Sometimes she's her happy talkative self and other days she barely texts back a full sentence," he sighed.

Gojo patted his shoulder. "That's girls for you. Which reminds me," he pulled out his own phone out of his pocket, "there's a joined party for med students and scientists as well. How about we go? You'll finally get to relax," he adressed poor Shoko hovering above her notes, "and you can invite your soon to be slash maybe never be girlfriend and finally meet her! I plan on meeting this one lady myself so we can organize a double date if you're shy."

"No matter how much you try Utahime will still tell you to go fuck yourself," Shoko reminded him.

Gojo turned around at her. "Well first of all-!"

Geto payed no mind to their arguement anymore. His phone buzzed in his hand. You replied.

Okay. But can we study right now please? Through a phone call?

In a speed of light Geto sneaked out of the living room to his own bedroom and searched for his old biochemistry notes. Even though he offered to help he himself was pretty clueless and barely passed the finals. Still the urge to finally hear your voice was bigger than the embarassment possibly awaiting him.

As soon as he found the old dusty notebook he sat down at his desk and dialed you.

It took only two rings for you to answer.

"Hello?"

By god your voice sounded so cute. He wanted to squich your cheeks so bad. Unfortunatelly he couldn't remember a single person he talked to who would even come close to sounding like you. Granted, the phone makes everyone's voice sound a bit robotic but still. Should he start recording every conversation he has from now on?

"Well hello there," he greeted back with a smile. "So, what is it you need help with?"

You hummed. He distantly heard ruffling of couple of papers. Eventually you answered. "Gluconeogenesis."

"Okay, a bit more specificly?" he already started looking for a page about it but couldn't seem to find it. Did they even cover it?

"Well, the whole thing basically. I know it's glycolysis but backwards but in the presentation the professor showed us were couple of reactions that looked confusing and I don't know what else to do."

Even though he found your whine at the end of your sentence cute he was frantically turning page after page looking for any headtitle starting on G but nothing.

Someone opened his door.

"Who're you talking to?" both his best friend and Shoko peaked through the opened door.

Geto waved at them to leave. "Uhm give me a moment okay?" he said to the phone and then pushed it to his shoulder. "Shoko do you have a biochemistry notebook here?"

"Is that your girl?" she asked insted, excitement in her eyes. "Put her on loudspeaker!"

"Do you have it or not?!"

"If I say I do will you let me hear her?"

Geto contemplated. He wanted to keep you just to himself for a while longer. But without Shoko's help...

Gojo came in with his own half torn notebook dangling it infront of Geto. "It's all yours if you let us hear her."

Geto frowned into his best friends smirked face which matched Shoko's. He rolled his eyes and finally spoke to the phone again. "Listen Y/N, my friends want to hear you, can I put you on a loudspeaker?"

"Uhm, sure?"

As soon as he did Gojo started asking bunch of questions. "Heey how are you? Are you the Y/N Sugu won't shut up about? How do you look like? Why didn't you send my boy a selfie? He likes black so go on and buy some nice black lingerie for him yeah?"

By the time he finished his little rant Geto covered his phones's microphone and nearly kicked him in the gut. Hopefully you didn't hear most of his questions.

Shoko punched him as well chastising him for scaring you off. "Don't mind him Y/N, you'll get used to him. Now say something already!"

After a second of silence you peeped out a shy: "Hi."

"Oh my god Suguru she sounds so cute," Gojo gushed.

"Don't let her near him," Shoko pointed at Gojo. "It was nice to hear you Y/N, can't wait for Suguru to introduce you to us properly. Enjoy your study date!" she said as she dragged Gojo away before he could blabber out some more inapropriate things.

Suguru turned the loudspeaker off and it was just you two again.

"What the hell was that," you asked with panic in your voice.

"My friends trying to ruin my life. They mean well though, don't worry. It's just rare for them to see me interacting with a girl."

"But whenever I see you on the halls you're surrounded by couple of girls though."

Geto smirked. "Is that jealousy I hear?"

"Maybe."

Before he could press any further you asked about biochemistry and he quickly found the page he needed. Thankfully back then Gojo was at least trying to take notes in classes so the entire gluconeogenesis was neatly explained. After about twenty minutes you exclaimed you finally understood and thanked him.

"My pleasure Y/N. Was this why you weren't talking to me that much?" he leaned back on his chair.

"This and another thing, but it's okay now."

"Aaaw, what other thing? You know you can always talk to me right?"

"I know, but not this time. Sorry."

"It's fine," he said sadly. In the back of his mind he imagined bunch of different scenarios that could trouble you. Failed test, mean classmates, or worse a crush on a classmate.

"Hey, you have a nice voice," your words pulled him from his thoughts.

He chuckled. "Look who's talking. Even though are you sure it was me you talked to? I swear I never heard such a melodic voice from anyone in school."

"Well, you were kinda in a hurry. And was focusing elsewhere too..."

"Huh? What do you mean?" he genuenly didn't understand. Focusing elsewhere?

"Nevermind. By the way how do you like it so far? It's been almost half a semester now."

"It's going pretty good. Much more interesting than med school. Even though," he rocked on his chair back and forth, "it would've been nicer if we could've met face to face."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really."

"I don't think that's a good idea though."

He quickly stopped rocking and sat up straight. "What? Y/N..." he couldn't even find words. Why wouldn't you want to meet up with him? "Y/N, have I been rude to you? Have I scared you off while we talked in real life?"

"No."

He sighed in relief.

"You barely even looked at me."

His heart tightened again.

"It's just that," you paused for a second trying to put together a whole sentence, "I've seen the girls you hang around Suguru and all of them are really beautiful. Standing besides them I look nothing special. You would be disappointed if we met and you knew it was me. Isn't it better this way? I bet you imagine me as this model or something," you chuckled but he could hear the sadness in your voice.

"Y/N, first of all my imagination is pretty bad so I only imagine you as a girl with your name written across your face," you chuckled at that which made his heart swell, "and second of all those girls hang around me, not the other way around. Most of the time we travel in groups and look for places together which is way more efficient than getting lost alone. Besides, none of them can even hold a candle to you intellectually. Once in a virology lab this one girl gathered a sample of bacteria on that wire thingy and put the whole thing into the burner. She was very surprised why she had nothing grown on her petri dish a week later"

"Oh my god," you laughed out loud. "How will she pass?"

"Maybe she won't. I heard some other upperclassmen say the first year is usually treated as a sorting out year."

"It's possible. But her effectively killing all her bacteria sample is something else."

"It is," he chuckled at the memory. "Now that I think about it do you remember that unpleasant girl i told you some weeks back?"

"Yeah," you said emotionlessly but he paid it no mind.

"The girl she gave advice to was the same girl who burned off all her bacteria. Maybe she was right about advicing her like that. Maybe she could smell the stupid on her."

"Maybe."

There it was again. The one word answers.

"What is it now?" he asked concerned.

"Nothing, I just," you paused. He could sense a hesitation from your side. Eventually you spoke up again. "I just think I know that girl."

"Oh? Is she your friend?"

"More or less."

"Then I'm sorry if I offended her."

"Nah, it's fine. Do you still think of her as a bitch?"

"No."

"Then all's fine," he could hear you smile and he smiled as well.

"Well Suguru, as much as I like hearing your voice I have to go to sleep now. Thank you for explaining it to me again. I don't know what I would've done without you."

His heart sped up at the praise. "It was fine Y/N, that's what friends are for right? Oh and one more thing!"

"Yeah?"

He hesitated but finally he gathered enough courage. "Satoru told me about an upcoming party for scientists. Are you coming?" he asked hopefully.

"Maybe. It should be after a midterm from embryology. Let me check."

He patiently waited while you checked your calendar. Even if you wouldn't be going he would still find a way to meet you. Now that he knows what you sound like he could just walk around and listen to people talking.

"No, unfortunately it's the night before the midterm. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," he tried masking his disappointment. Even though he admired how dedicated you were to your studies he really wished you could make an exception.

"Hey, maybe next time, okay?"

"Yeah, maybe fate will arrange my life again," he joked and you chuckled.

"Yeah. You never know. Good night Suguru. Sweet dreams."

*

Your midterm was around the corner. As was the party Suguru mentioned. You still see him in halls here and there, often surrounded by a group of people. There didn't seem to be a time where he was alone. Unsurprisingly so, since he looked like... well, like him. To sooth your jealousy there didn't seem to be any prominent lady hanging around him all the time. The faces in his close circle were always changing. Even the famous dummy from virology seemed to disappear. Maybe his words about merely traveling together were true.

Today however you payed no attention to him or his newfound friends. The only thing on your mind was your midterm. Other groups have already taken it and you heard them say how life draining it was. Their words were confirmed after you passed by a group of your friends who just finished it. Well, friends was a strong word. As freshmen you often relied on eachother but now that you know your way around and you were sorted jnto different groups you talked less and less.

"Hey," you greeted them. "How was it?"

"Run for your life girl," the one who had most prominent eyebags replied.

Some other people who you didn't know nodded, their faces equally as tired. Eveb the biggest know it all you've met in this darn buidling was mumbling something about retaking it.

From there your legs took you straight to library. It didn't look like those in movies you watched growing up. No fancy decoration or tables with green lamps. Just basic library with books stacked up to the ceiling, basic wooden uncomfortable looking chairs and tables with chipped edges. A pleasure to study there.

With a list of helpful books in your phone you walked around not looking for a particular one. Just procrastinating. If you managed to find one off your list you just flipped around and put it back in. All terms in there were already familiar to you. You doubted you could learn anything new by now.

Few rows bahind you something fell to the ground, the loud noise making you jump. A pretty loud 'fuck' along with a very familiar scolding from librarian soon followed. Amused you peeked into the corridor to check the poor guy's first experience with the dreaded librarian. It must be a freshman. Everyone else already knows to not even breath when in closed proximity of that witch.

It really was a freshman. But your freshman. Suguru stumbled from the alley into the corridor and quickly hid in the same row you were in, running by you, barely sparing you a glance.

The librarian calmed down and returned to her usual spot, a spawnpoint as you liked to call it. Once she did Suguru sighed and leaned back, a small smile tugging on his lips.

You admired him for a bit. It's been a long time since you've seen him, let alone been this close to him. Once he calmed down his head fell back to its usual level and he finally noticed you. His smile faded and your heart cracked. "Hi," he politely greeted. You only nodded back aknowledging him and opened the book you held on a random page. The whole book could be upside down and you would never even know, the only thing you were focusing on was his figure. Which was moving slowly towards you.

"Uhm, excuse me," his melodic voice made you look up at him. Your cheeks got heated as you waited for his next words. "Could you move?" he asked and pointed at the shelf you were leaning on.

"Oh, sorry," you whispered back and quickly moved. Your legs itched to walk away completely to not embarass yourself even further but something stopped you. A sudden urge rose inside you. 'Talk to him. Tell him.'

He flipped through his book, completely unbothered by his surroundings. Thank god for that. It gave you some time to psych yourself up. Twice you opened your mouth and closed it again. He took out his phone to snap couple of pictures of the pages in his hands. An idea.

You pulled your own phone out and messaged him.

Hey, you there?

After hitting send it only took couple of seconds for his phone to vibrate. He glanced at it again with annoyance but after a while a smile creeped up his face as his fingers danced across the screen.

Well hello, how was the study session?

Good. Listen, where are you right now?

Butterflies flew around your insides as you watched him type.

In library. Why? Wanna meet? ;)

This is it. It's now or never.

Look left.

With hope filled eyes you watched him and waited. The message finally got delivered. He read it. Then he turned his head. Your eyes finally met.

"Hi," you said carefully.

"Hi," he repeated, a dumbstruck expression on his face.

You expected a lot. Everything actually. But not what he did. It was just a small movement, some would write it off as just a spasm of muscles. In split second his eyes drifted from your face to someplace behind you and back down to you. As if checking if you're really the only one there.

Your throat tightened as tears slowly clouded your vision. "You're disappointed, right?"

That brought him back to reality as he shook his head. "No, no, of course not. Just surprised, that's all!"

How you wished you believed him. A tear has already escaped your eye and you cursed yourself. Not wanting to embarass yourself even further you turned around ready to leave.

"Hey, wait up," he stopped you by putting his large hand on your shoulder.

"SHUT YOUR MOUTHS," came an angry voice of the librarian. Both of your hearts stopped beating for a moment.

"Outside?" he mouthed to you.

You nodded and both of you practically sublimated out of there. Standing outside he finally took a good look at you. His eyes resting only on you, despite people walking around. Feeling selfconscious you tugged on your coat. It was supposed to snow today so you took the fluffiest you had, making you look three times your size.

"Ehm, so," you broke the silence, "it was nice meeting you and all but, I have midterm to study for sooo..."

"Oh, but we only just met," he pouted. It was cute, seeing a hunk of a man like him pouting like a kid who lost his favourite toy.

"Sorry," you apologized genuenly meaning it. Even though you'd love to stay time was pressing down on you.

Suddenly his eyes lit up. "Do you remember the party I mentioned to you?"

"The one in two days? Yeah, I remember. Why?"

He grinned. "My roommate is going there so my place will be free. And I need to study as well so we can study together. What do you say?"

His suggestion was tempting. But then again, being with him, all alone, possibly even staying the night? But you always studied much more efficient when you had someone beside you.

After few moments of pondering you nodded making his eyes even brighter.

"Great! I'll text you the address," he held up his phone and winked. "See you later kitten."

*

"This was probably a bad idea," you tell yourself as you check the address one last time. You were already standing under the building. A pretty fancy one. Didn't look like dorms at all. Maybe it wasn't. He did mention his roommate is unholy rich though so maybe this is one of the perks of being his friend?

First snowflakes dropped on your phone screen. You looked up. The clouds didn't even look dark enough to start snowing. The weather forecast didn't mentikn it either. You pulled your coat tighter around you a regretted not putting on another layer just in case like you use to.

The front entrance opened revealing Suguru in black sweatpants and black knitted sweater. "There you are! Come in before you freeze," he stepped aside and held the door open for you.

His place was on the eighth floor. The ride in the elevator wasn't long but for you, being so close to Suguru, it seemed like hours. Finally the elevator dinged and the doors opened. A white haired man wearing a pretty expensive looking shirt stood infront of it. You looked up and him and gulped. What kind of a man wears shades in the building?

"Sugu, is that her?" the man asked pointing a finger at you not even looking in your direction.

Suguru pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, this is her. Y/N, this is-"

"Satoru," he took your cold hand in his and leaned down, "pleasure to meet you."

Before he could kiss the back of your hand you pulled it from under his nose and held defensively against your chest. Suguru's shades slid down his nose slightly, revealing surprised blue eyes.

Giggling came from behind him. "I like her," said a brunnette in dark blue dress. "I'm Ieri."

"I'm Y/N," you smiled.

Suguru cleared his throat. "Okay now that we all know who the other one is," he placed his hand on your lower back making your blood quickly travel to your cheeks, "we better go study. Enjoy the party you two," he gently pushed you inside the open apartment door.

"Fine, fine," Satoru rolled his eyes. "If you need condoms I put some of mine in your bedside table."

"We are really going to study though," you said but he only chuckled.

"Yeah I know. Embryology," he winked under his shades and pulled Ieri along with him leaving you and blushing Suguru behind. Alone.

"Ignore him," he said and offered you Ieri's soft slippers. "Tea?"

"Yes please," you took of your coat and hanged it. Their place didn't look like it belonged to a pair of students at all. Everything looked expensive. The ridiculously giant aquarium in the living room wasn't helping at all. Upon further inspection you only saw two fish in there, one black the other white.

Suguru came back from the kitchen. "Those were Satoru's idea," he tapped the aquarium glass.

"It's cute. To represent you and him?"

"Yeah," he put his hands in his pockets and stood beside you. In the glass' reflection yout two almost looked like you were on a date in aquarium. You smiled at the thought. "He also wanted Ieri to have one as well but she refused. I have a feeling she's shipping us."

You chuckled. "Then my presence must be ruining her ship."

"Hmm, are you suggesting something?" he smirked and leaned in closer to you.

"Ehm," you averted your eyes and pulled your backpack off of your shoulders, "we got work to do."

"Right," he straightened back up, his expression unreadable. "Do you want to stay here or go to my bedroom?"

"We can go to yours," you say without actually thinking how it might make you look. Thankfully Suguru found no deeper meaning behind it and lead you to a decently big room. You could tell he was preparing for your visit. No man is this tidy. Even though it's Suguru.

"Make yourself at home, I'll go finish the tea."

"Thanks."

You walked around a bit. There were some pictures of his youth. Some were with people you didn't recognise, some with young Satoru. On all of them he looked extremely cute. Puberty must've hit him like a truck. You also took notice of the dumbells and other training equipment hidden in the corner. You always assumed people like him just went to a gym, or better yet had their own personal gym. Guess he's more of an introvert than you gave him credit for.

Without any further inspections you sat down on his bed, so soft and welcoming. You resisted the urge to lay back and drift off to sleep. It would be perfect. Big soft warm bed, picking up snowstorm outside, a handsome man laying by your side. You shook your head. You're just friends. You're just a friend.

"Tea is here," he walked in with two mugs in his hand handing one to you.

You just held it, wamring up your cold fingers. "Thanks."

With a small smile he nodded and sat right across you on his gamer chair. Did he play videogames as well?

"So, how does the whole studying in pair go?"

You sipped on your tea. Actually you had no idea. The only collective studying yoj ever did was with him through a phone that one time. It was more him explaining things to you rather than mutual teaching. In the end you shrugged. "We'll have to figure it out as we go."

"Guess we will," he leaned back.

He gazed at you so long it made you selfconscious. "What?" you giggled nervously.

He shook his head. "Nothing, just," he moved to lean forward on his legs, "never thought I'd have you here."

"Weren't you the one to beg for a meeting?" recalled all the times he asked on which floor of the school you were or asking for your schedual to surprise you after class.

"I didn't mean that," he said and pointed at his bed. "I meant here."

You looked down and blushed. "Oh."

He chuckled at your flustered expression. "Don't worry, I'm not like Satoru."

"Like Satoru?"

"Horny."

You choked.

"C-can we start studying now?"

He nodded.

*

The clock on his bedroom wall slowly ticked away. You revised everything yoh needed and now was just helping Suguru. In the past hour he restlessly moved from sitting on his chair, to sitting on the parapet to now sitting on the ground right between your legs while you were playing with his long silky hair.

"Come on Suguru! I know you know this!" you tapped his scalp.

"Even if you threatened to shoot me I wouldn't know," he groaned and flipped through his notes again. "Maybe it won't even be on the damn midterm."

"The last time I said this I had to retake it. Besides if you don't pass on the first time then you'll have to retake after Christmas along with your finals. Do you want that?"

He leaned into your hands and closed his eyes. "That won't happen," he tilted his head back and looked at you, "because I have you now."

You chuckled and somehow didn't get flustered. Maybe you were desentisized after spending multiple hours on end with him? "Like I will sit there with you while you take it."

"Why not? I could squeeze you up," he got up from his spot and hugged you real tight against him, "and put you in my pocket like a talisman."

You giggled at him hugging and squeezing you. Without even realizing it he fell down with you in his arms on his massive bed, laughing along with you. When you opened your eyes you were met with his bare neck and long hair framing it. You looked up and realized how close the tow of you are. And how dark it has gotten outside.

He noticed how awkwardly you held your hands infront of you and losened his grip. "I'm sorry. Do you want to go?"

You shook your head and shushed the butterflies in your stomach. "Nope, I just-" you looked away from him, "maybe you're used to it but I've never been this close to a man before..."

He smiled and brushed your hair out of your face to get a better look at you. "I'm not used to it. I told you it's not often I'm close with a member of the opposite sex, and that's why Satoru and Ieri acted so weird. Besides," his hand fell from the top of your head to your neck and rested there, "you're the first girl to lay in this bed."

Your eyes went wide. "Really?"

"Yeah, really."

You had no words. How do normal people even react to something like that? You just hummed and let your eyes roam around his face. He looked really cute right now. Like a cat. Even before he always reminded you of a cat. One of your hands rose up from your chest and with the lenght of your forefinger petted him under his jaw, like you would a cat.

"Meow," he said and you chuckled. But your finger didn't stop petting. Hiw own thumbed rubbed the back of your neck, his palm heavy on the side of it.

"I like bwing around you," you confessed."

"Me too. You're so calming."

You hummed and closed your eyes. "Would you mind if I stayed the night?"

"Not at all. I"ll even drive you to school tomorrow so you won't have to freeze in a bus."

Your eyes shot open. "You have a car?"

He shook his head. "Satoru does. He owes me for so much already. And he forgot his keys here too."

You swatted his shoulder lightly. "You're the worst!"

"Only for you."

There it was again. That damn smirk you imagined every time he sent it in an emoji form. Now it was right infront of your face. You readjusted your head. Now it was on the same level as his face as opposed to before when it was underneath it.

"Why did you message me that first time?"

He thought for a while. "Out of boredom mostly. But I'm glad I did," his hand moved from your neck up to your cheek.

"And why did you keep messaging me?"

"Why did you?"

You weren't sure yourself. "I don't know. You were nice I guess."

"And?" he moved closer to you, the tip of his nose brushing your own.

"I don't know!" You whined and moved your head to brush his nose. "What do you want to hear from me?"

"A confession or something," he mumbled. "I really want to hear you say you like me."

Your movement stopped. He wanted what? "Why?"

"Because," he brushed his thumb on your cheek, "I like you and I want to hear you say it back."

"You like me?" you asked not believing him.

"I do."

"Why?" some self-hating tears burned your eyes. There's no way you were this lucky. There's no way he's serious. Someone like him won't just start liking someone like you.

"Because I felt like it. Will you let me?" he asked and quickly glanced down at your lips. His question was about more than him liking you.

You closed your eyes and let the fate play out this scenario however it wanted. It was its fault he came into your life in the first place.

Suguru smiled and pulled your head towards him. His lips were soft. At first it was just a snall peck, filling your chest with warmth much sweeter than the tea he made you. When he pulled back you kissed him again. He locked your lips together, enjoying the way you moved against him. His other hand pulled your waist towards him and you sighed into his mouth. No one has ever touched you like this before. You could get used to this.

When sweet kisses weren't enough for him anymore he rolled you on your back while stradling you and deepened the kiss. You were surprised, sure, but certainly not dissapointed. You pulled on his lose hair, making him moan into you. This amount of power over a man wasn't so bad. Your hands snaked around his neck while his lowered to your thighs propping them up to lock around his waist. Something hard poked into your center.

Your eyes shot open and you gently pushed on his shoulders to give you some time to breathe.

"Do you want to stop?" he asked. From this short of a distance you could finally see his pupils agajnst his dark eyes. They were blown wide with desire.

You gulped and shook your head. "I'm scared."

He smiled gently and stroked your cheek. "Shh, it's okay. I'll be gentle."

His other hand played with the hem of your shirt, silently asked for permission. Which you gave.

He pulled your shirt of exposing your bare chest to him. You don't even know what you thought that morning not putting on a bra. But right now you were kinda glad you didn't. Less time wasting.

He immediatelly started kissing a path from your neck down to your chest. Sucking a hickey on your sternutm while both of his hands squeezed and massaged your breasts, thumbs flicking across your nipples. You whined at the foreign feeling. The hardness between your legs got even more prominent. Your legs locked around his torso and lifted your upper half to be close to him again. While your ass was off the bed he tried to pull down your warm trousers. Eventually they joined your shirt on the floor.

"Not fair," you whined and pulled on his sweater.

"Lemme fix it," he mumbled into your skin and sat up to pull his clothes away.

Of course he had a six pack. Of course he did. He leaned down and continued kissing your chest. You saw his back muscles. You swore he had muscle groups you thought were a myth.

Once his mouth got to your panties you came to a horrifying realization: you didn't shave.

"Sugu, stop," you tapped on his back making him look up at you.

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry, I-I didn't," you looked away in embarassment.

"You didn't what, sweet?" he caressed the inside of your thigh and you shivered.

"It's a mess down there," you finally admitted hiding your face in your hands.

He tsked and pulled your hands from your face giving you a soft kiss. "No good man is affraid of a little forrest," he winked at you and dove right back where he stopped.

"Oh my- Sugu~"

He made out with your lower lips just as passionately as he did with your upper ones. Not used to the new sensation your legs tried to close but he held them wide open, even folded them up against your chest giving him better access. You moaned and whined, everytime you did he tried something new. New speed, new preassure. He spelled his own name on your clit with his tongue before sucking it, making sure to make you feel as good as possible.

Suddenly something poked your entrance. You shot your eyes opened panicked but quickly shut them closed when his long finger stroke your insides. No one has ever touched you in there. Not even yourself. Once he made a 'come closer' motion you were done for.

With a final kiss he pulled out his glitening forefinger. "Well, that was fast," he commented.

"Shut up," you hid your face once again.

He chuckled and moved up again, your legs found their home around his waist. He kissed your hands hiding your face. "It's cute kitten, don't hide away from me," he tapped your wrist. You pulled your hand away revealing your flushed face. "There you are," he smiled and kissed you. He licked inside your mouth and you tasted something more than just his saliva.

While he made out he pulled down his sweatpants and the hardness you felt before sprang free now. Too embarassed you didn't even attempt to glance down. Feeling how big he was down there was way more than seeing it.

"No way that will fit inside," you sighed into his mouth.

"We'll make it," he kissed you before straigthening up and leaning to the side of the bed.

"What are you-?"

"You wouldn't want to study embryology in practice now, would you?" he winked and opened his bedside table.

Embarassed you looked away from him and studied the arm that was still resting beside your head. His bicep must be bigger than your face. And the veins on his fore arms! A wet dream of every nurse for sure.

You mentally slap yourself. Why must you always think like a scientist?!

While you were scolding yourself he quickly slipped on a condom and his tip was now poking at your entrance.

"This will probably hurt," he whispered into your ear.

You found his hand and held it tightly, his fingers interlocking yours. "I trust you."

Slowly, inch by inch he moved inside. If his finger was way too long you weren't even ready for his nether region. He stretched you out in all directions, but mostly forward as he disappeared inside you more and more. You whined here and there but he kissed your cheek and told you how well you're doing and how it will feel good afterwards. His thumb kept rubbing the back of your hand as he moved his hips thrusting up into you.

Then, you didn't even know how but he was all inside. Once he was he groaned. "Fuck," he breathed out and his head fell into the crook of your neck and kissed you there. "You're so soft."

He breathed against your neck and you felt shivers run down your spine. He pulsed inside you and by the way he was breathing you knew he was trying to control himself to not hurt you. Oh how you loved this man.

Your other hand, the one not holding onto his, got lost in his hair. "Y-you can move."

You felt him grin against your skin. He pulled out, making you feel awfully empty, but quickly filling you up again making you gasp. "Oh~"

His arm moved from beside your head to hold your ass in place as he thrusted inside. Slow and steady. His tip always caressed that one spot his finger previously discovered. Every time you moaned he kissed yet another hickie into your neck and you feared you won't be able to last long.

A new feeling grew inside you. Much more powerful than the one before. "S-Sugu~" you breathed out, not being able to finish your sentence.

"Yes kitten?" He lifted his head. God he looked amazing. With his black hair framing his face and little beads of sweat forming on his forhead, like a crown of dewdrops.

"I-I-" he hit that spot again and you moaned seeing stars.

"Oh, you like it here," he angled his hips and poked that spongy spot again.

"N-n-n-" in this new position his pelvis rubbed just perfectly against your clit and it was damn near impossible for yout to even think.

"You're close?"

You nodded.

"Right behind you," he moaned and kept hitting that one wonderful spot unditl both of you fell apart. You first, him following closely after, filling the condom to the point of it leaking around his base. His head fell back into the crook of your neck, leaving soft kisses and catching his breath. Your own chest went up and down, touching his toned one with every breath. He stayed inside, staying nice and warm. You came to love being stretched like this. Unfortunately, both of your bodies would soon grow cold and would have to separate. He pulled out making you hiss.

"Sorry," he chuckled.

"Nah," you caressed the side of his face, "I loved it."

He smiled and kissed your palm. "Sleepy?"

You nodded and as if on cue yawned. Damn he was only with you once and he already knew your body better than you.

He got rid of his condom and threw covers over both of you, pulling your bodies together in the process. This was great. Exactly as you imagined. You and him together after a good and thorough study session, nice and warm while winter went crazy outside.

How could one stay awake?

*

Suguru stroked your naked back. Up and down, then back to your head again, scratching you like a cat. He woke up in the middle of the night and had been caressing you ever since. Usually he would curse this sudden wave of insomnia but now he was greatful. Who knows when will the two of you be like this? With how seriously you take school and his own hectic schedual mixed in? Better to enjoy this while he can.

Sun began to rise when he heard noises outside his bedroom. Satoru must be back.

Sure enough the white haired man stumbled through the threshold, his shades aslant and shakimg from the outside cold.

He made his way into kitchen but stopped once he got a peek into his bestfriend's bedroom. Thankfully you were laying chest to chest on him and most of you was covered by his blanket anyways but still Suguru tried to cover you from unwanted eyes.

Satoru grinned. "Just study?"

Suguru threw a pillow at him.

[letomills]

TS2 CC downloaders & creators discussion recap

Under the cut is a recap of the feedback gathered from the comments, community replies and reblogs on this thread. Thank you for taking the time to give your input! I tried to organize everything clearly in categories, with what was most often brought up at the top of each. I hope I didn’t forget anything. If I did, or you feel I didn't do your point justice, or you didn’t get a chance to say your piece, feel free to comment (I can always make edits). The text in brackets [] is my own remarks that I'm adding to the report.

About CC in general:

The people clamored for clear swatches/pictures that show which file corresponds to which recolor, so we can pick and choose what to keep.

Many people would like creators to put their usernames in their file names (or object descriptions) so they are easier to trace back to later. Two creators had counterpoints to this. One who has a long username said: “as a creator, I don't like to be told how I should name my files (besides identifying the thing clearly, which I think we really should do). If I've made the effort to make a thing, take previews, upload it, write the post etc. Just spend 5 seconds of your life renaming the file to whatever is convinient to you, I'm not going to add 16 characters to each of my files to include my username (I still think that longer names = longer loading time).” The other creator said: “As a creator, I don't want to put my full username in tooltips (just SB) because some hair names are quite long and I do not have the time to re tooltip the names.”

On the topic of file names, many people agreed that creators should not put special characters and spaces in their file names, to optimize loading times. One creator clarified: “the filenames should always have _ instead of spaces, as apparently this allows the game to load them easier/faster [...] underscores should be the only kind of special character in them” [use the Bulk Rename Utility - see tutorial by @ilovethesims2cc].

Still on file names, a Mac user said they dislike when file names are too long because apparently long file names are enough for Macs to shit themselves [sorry if I misunderstood, never had a Mac].

Several people mentioned disliking poorly optimized CC (one person listed: “bulky for no reason, unused bump maps, comically large or duplicated textures, things that could easily be repo'd but are not”), one person pointed out: “There is no reason a TS2 object needs a texture bigger than 1024x1024 unless it’s a special case like a skybox.”

One person said they dislike when a CC post lacks basic text info about what the download is. On this note, another person said they dislike when a creator isn’t clearly stating what mesh their recolors are for.

Two people asked that creators state their stuff’s polycounts.

Two people said they dislike when the recolors for a piece of CC are only available merged together, as they want to be able to easily choose which they want to keep. On the other hand, someone who “takes all recolors anyway” said they would like creators to offer a merged version of their recolors [you can merge CC to reduce loading times using LazyDuchess’s CC Merger].

One person recommended avoiding just using “here” as hyperlink text, but instead describing what you are linking to, so that if the link gets broken we still have a chance to find the thing. In the same vein, they and another person advised against reliance on an image alone to give info about the download. As we know, images can disappear, and a Google search won’t lead to the item if your post has no text that Google can detect.

About the images that creators do show, one person mentioned a download not having a proper preview as their pet peeve. On previews, two people recommended that the piece of CC be clearly visible and the main focus. Two people said they like when a preview of the item is included in the archive (“helpful when looking through old CC”).

One person said they appreciate when creators give two download links to two different hosting platforms, in case one of them ever breaks.

One person asked for creators to always test their stuff before uploading [it should go without saying but we do see egregious things to this day]. Their pet peeve is “CC with obvious issues that can’t have been tested properly in game! Don’t just look at it in build mode or bodyshop, actually use the item in live mode. Have a Sim wear the clothing or use the object!” They pointed out as an example that some CC lights don’t light up. Someone else said: “if there are minor imperfections, that's ok! But let your downloaders know what to expect.”

One person said that they enjoy reading detailed descriptions of CC: “Share your inspos, what went wrong, tag the pieces you used if you are Frankenmeshing because I might want those items too! Creating and sharing is deeply personal, don't be afraid to share a part of who you are in your downloads if you feel comfortable doing so.” [If I may offer a slight counterpoint, I think detailed technical info + proper crediting should always be frontloaded. And then, in a separate paragraph, you can write about how you made this because your grandma used to wear something similar on those cool autumn days back when you were 6. But please, don’t expect your audience to have to parse through your life story to get the basic info they need to even understand what the download is.]

On subfolders: one person mentioned that they dislike when individual files are placed in subfolders; someone else said they don’t like many subfolders within an archive; a third person said that when downloading a ‘bulk’ CC pack, they dislike when each item has its individual subfolder (unless the object has dozens of recolors).

One person said they dislike downloads that include a large number of things that aren’t all part of a single coherent set.

One person said they dislike gift/mega packages that don’t give the possibility to pick and choose what you’re downloading.

One person asked that creators compressorize their CC, unless there is a good reason for not doing so, reason that should be stated [yes please! Use jfade’s Compressorizer, found on this page].

One person said they like when creators who make recolors give a link to the mesh they are recoloring whenever possible, even if the mesh is included.

One person mentioned appreciating when creators include base PSDs in their downloads [they were talking about hair specifically but I suppose it can be done for other things too].

About Bodyshop CC specifically:

Many people mentioned disliking when a piece of clothing lacks a fat morph (as one person put it: ✨“its literally bigotry”✨ [iconic]), or has a fat morph that's blatantly a quickly WSO’d afterthought. Someone said: “Absurdly shaped/clipping fat morphs that were most probably never tested in game before uploading are pretty annoying”; someone else said: “I make male content and am constantly flabbergasted by some of the UM Top fat morphs that make no attempt to align with Bottom items, or look completely ridiculous. [...] WSOs are a great starting point, but that's just it: a starting point" [I couldn’t agree more]. One person added that clothes should also have preg morphs.

One person really wants tooltips. Someone else further asked that creators give actually helpful tooltips to their recolors to make it easier to identify which recolor corresponds to which file [you can use CatOfEvilGenius’s Tooltip utility to give your recolors tooltips that correspond to their file names].

One person mentioned gaps in meshes being their #1 pet peeve [putting this in this section because I’m assuming they’re referring to Bodyshop CC].

One person asks that creators give their accessories unique BIN numbers to make them layerable with other accessories.

The same person would like creators to remember to delete the inapplicable ages in their accessories [this also goes for hairs].

The same person also appreciates when creators make custom thumbnails for their accessories, “especially for accessories that are not on the face”.

The same person said: “Accessories that are 'part of the sim' (like ears, tails, etc.) should be showerproof”. Another person had the same request: “Body part accessories (such as animal ears, tails, horns, wings) should be available for all types of clothing.”

One person appreciates when hair meshers specify if their hair is animated or not.

One person would like to see more hairs for toddlers and children.

For geneticized skintones, one person said they find it helpful when the genetic number is indicated in the file name.

About Build & Buy CC specifically: 

Several people said they dislike when CC objects are set to an absurd price (like a couch for 1 simoleon) [this can be fixed with Pick’N’Mix’s Object Relocator], and two people added that they dislike when an object’s price isn’t congruent with their stats (like when an expensive bed has a low energy score). A creator further said: “whats worse is sometimes items are cloned from a very expensive item, and then the creator has reduced the stats shown in the description, but the bhav still has very high ratings, or sometimes it can be the other way around, an item might have been cloned from a cheap one, then their displayed stats are set to 10 but the bhavs still have low ratings”.

Three people said that they really appreciate when creators state which category their object is in and what the price is. One person said they appreciate when creators give info about how their object functions (“Is it just deco? Does it have hobby enthusiasm?” etc.). For complex objects, they like when there’s a video to show how it works. 

One person said they dislike when creators place objects in categories that don’t make sense. Someone said more specifically that they like when objects are put in categories other than deco/sculptures or deco/misc.

One person said they dislike blank object descriptions or object descriptions that were left the same as that of the Maxis object that the piece of CC was cloned from.

One person said they don’t like when objects aren’t enabled for quarter-tile placement [can be fixed in simPe or with the Object Relocator].

One person said they dislike non-functional objects (like a sofa that’s a sculpture).

One person brought up two experiences they and their friend had with CC beds that didn’t have unique GUIDs and therefore would override other beds. In the same vein, someone else said they dislike when a creator forgets to mention that their CC is not custom but default and will override something in the game.

One person encourages creators to learn about the TXMT settings of objects (e.g. should an object be reflective?) and praised @pforestsims and @shastakiss for their CC in that regard. Another person said they dislike when an object is too shiny, which is also a TXMT setting.

One person said they dislike “transparent cut out textures”. [I quote because I’m clueless about this:] “I’ve seen this a lot on TS3 or other game conversions, where the texture has been imported without enabling transparency, and you get ugly squares around draw handles and such. Import the texture as DXT 5 and enable AlphaTest in the TXMT.”

One person said they like when 4t2 conversions have several subsets.

The Mac user among us would like creators to resize their walls and floors for Macs, otherwise they show up grey in game.

About lots specifically:

Two people said they like when creators show the floor plans of their lots.

[yourlocalbadgerscales]

Here she is, feeling like the very last drops of an ink pen…

Hello, and welcome to my blog <3

You can call me Jaimiee! I am a teen, as in I’m a M-I-N-O-R, so keep that in mind while interacting with me and my posts! Other names that work for me are Alfie and Aspen, and nicknames/variations of all three names.

I am a demiflux** person, the static part of my gender being female and the fluctuating part being non-binary. I use she/her pronouns, but I do not want to be referred to as a girl. Although I’m fine with people using words such as “bro”, “dude”, “girl” etc. when talking to me.

I am also a bi-lesbian** and ambiamorous**.

**These links lead to a website called LGBTQIA+ Wiki, which includes the definitions of the terms above.

I often question my sexuality, gender identity, romantic orientation etc. Those parts of me, as well as my pronouns, might change over time. Just a heads up!

This blog is a safe space for everybody except:

TERFs (Trans Exclusive Radical Feminists)

Queerphobes (This includes exclusionists**)

Zoophiles

”MAPs” (“MAP” stands for “Minor Attracted Person” = pedophile)

Zionists

Racists

Nazis

Radical feminists

Cheaters

People who make fun of other people with disabilities

Bad people in general. The list is too long to continue.

**The only sexualities I exclude aren’t even sexualities, but since some people insist that they are: zoophilia and pedophilia, for obvious reasons. At least it is obvious to me that those two do not belong in our community, and if you disagree, kindly see yourself out. I accept every orientation, regardless of if I understand it or not, but I cross the line at the point where it’s harmful to others. That is pretty much what I live by at all times. Unless it’s harmful to others, I don’t mind it!

Now that we have all that out of the way, let’s move on to the good stuff, shall we?

1:35

Interests I will be posting about:

The Marauders & co

Harry Potter

Taylor Swift (I’m a friend of Dorothea 👀)

Conan Gray

Chappell Roan

Music in general

Problems in the world I’m passionate about, like queerphobia!

To be added onto as I remember more stuff…

These things include reblogs of fanart and microfics, microfics of my own, others’ and my own character and ship headcannons, incorrect quotes, lyric analyses, weird ass theories, long rants that will most likely turn into whole ass essays and *drum roll* sleep deprived shitposting.

I also post poetry and I aim to start posting one or two audios of me singing every now and then.

Sometimes I may vent a little or even trauma dump every now and then. As I am writing this new intro post, I am in quite a bad state. Depression, am I right? I’ll try my best to act cheerful and happy on here, my goal in life and on Tumblr is to make as many people as possible feel as safe and welcomed on my blog as possible. I love reviving asks or dms, so go ahead and talk to me or tag me in stuff or whatnot! But I can’t guarantee that I’ll always have the strength to reply to stuff like that. Just know I’m not ignoring anyone, and I’ll reply to everything when I have the time and energy!

I am yet to be officially diagnosed with autism and ADD, but me and a bunch of adults all agree that the signs are there, so I am pretty sure of it. If you see me reblogging posts tagged #bpd (which I do often), don’t pay too much attention to it. They’re just relatable af.

"Sorry is all I am, & all I know is how to be sorry in silence.”

— yourlocalbadgerscales

Jaimiee’s favourite ships:

Drarry (Draco Malfoy x Harry Potter, ”Harry Potter”)

Jegulus (James Potter x Regulus Black, ”Harry Potter” and more specifically during the marauders era)

Wolfstar (Remus Lupin x Sirius Black, ”Harry Potter” and more specifically during the marauders era)

Rosekiller (Evan Rosier x Barty Crouch Jr., ”Harry Potter” and more specifically during the marauders era)

Deamus (Seamus Finnigan x Dean Thomas, ”Harry Potter”)

(Link to a post about my favourite characters, singers etc. is on its way…)

(Link to a post with all by sideblogs is on its way…)

My tumblr family:

My parent @meatybunger

My child @homocidalpotat

My child in law @names-confuse-me

My other child @dragonfanplaugedr

My partners @junos-ocean-galaxy (husband 💅💍), @ravenwordss and @here-am-i-sitting-in-a-tin-can

They’re not my irl family btw haha

Shoutout to @atokirina-tsuki, the first person to follow me that day in June 2024! And to @homocidalpotat for always being there for me :3

Tags I will be using are #jamstag (for literally everything I post) and #jam bleeds ink (for poetry).

And guys, please remember that I’m always willing to chat with new people! No matter if you’re below or above 18 years old you can reach out, as long as you don’t plan on being disgusting :)

If you have questions about any of the labels I use, or anything else LGBTQIA+ related, or if you’re new to a fandom I’m in etc., feel free to dm me or send an ask my way!

[campbyler]

hi! member of privtwt here! i know it’s been a few months (god knows how long) after the whole Thing some of my mutuals had with you but i couldn’t stop thinking about it. i am frankly very embarrassed. i wasn’t involved in the Publicly Replying and Chasing You With Pitchforks stuff i just observed but not from afar. even then then, that was really really shitty and i’m truly very sorry for causing you any form of distress that you have felt. hope you guys are feeling a lot better thank you did in that time period. have a great day ! :)

shit forgot to put this in - most of us, including the people who weren’t involved, were offended because these were just assumptions that we, well, assumed didn’t interfere with the storyline. wallahi i thought it was just lighthearted banter until my mutuals were expressing their annoyance and the apologies came in (ours was very minimal, which was undeserved, sorry) not saying all this as an excuse btw! because after all this is *your* fictional world that you have intricately built and carefully detailed, and it was shitty of us to be annoyed at you turning down headcanons that like. go against the laws of YOUR world. especially since, if i recall correctly, they were *asking* you about their headcanons and left space for *your* opinions, in which you politely supplied. we treated it as a rhetorical question and expected validation which was very wrong. i hope any form of discouragement we unknowingly threw at your way has been gone. i mean it’s been months it probably has but i just thought i’d properly apologize because it was really irrational and frankly idiotic. i really love your fics! i’ve been closely following them a bit before acswy and i genuinely get so happy when i get an email about a fic update or a snippet etc. once again, i am sincerely sorry for all this bullshit. please keep writing 💙💛aaaand i forgot to add that the dogpiling you faced was deeply shitty and very undeserved i am truly truly sorry i exposed you to all that.

i posted this too early so everyone ignore this for now lol. it is being answered in a reblog.

[the-kingshound]

Warning inane ramble incoming, it’ll probably be annoying I apologize. (*_ _)人 I spent the last several days reading every post here. I managed to convince myself to start liking some (sorry about that I’m sure it was annoying to get all those notifications) I have this weird thing where I get nervous about liking older posts cuz I mean it’s been a long time and it’s unprompted so that’s weird right? It feels weird like I’m doing something wrong or I’m being annoying, I considered reblogging too but somehow that felt worse? Sorry I am not good with social rules they confuse me both on and offline Idk my brain is wrong and I’m just a nervous socially anxious snail. (＞﹏＜)

Anyways just wanted to gush about how much I love it here and I’m never leaving (´꒳`) ♡ First and foremost Yniol has a special place in my heart they will forever be my favorite bestie (*＾ω＾)人(＾ω＾*), yes I am biased as my partner is grey and though they don’t play IFs they were thrilled to learn about your character! Also your writing is just phenomenal, your fans are fun and creative, your characters give such warm and positive energy I love them so much they’re perfect, the inclusivity is such chefs kiss ( ´ з `) 🤌🏻✨, the angst is delicious, the fluff is so sweet and comforting, the spice is ... very blush-worthy (⁄ ⁄>⁄ ▽ ⁄<⁄ ⁄). This has been a journey I laughed, I cried, I giggled, and I blushed and I have enjoyed every bit of it from pasta discourse to Moldien cult wars to Arthur bunnies, I’ve had the most wonderful time. Now my mind is gonna be filled with Arthurian stuff for months my maladaptive daydreaming is having the time of its life I have a road trip next week and I’m so looking forward to just staring out a window for 6+hours while my Hound's just alternating daydream adventures with the cast o(≧▽≦)o. Also speaking of your amazingly wonderful, sweet, and supportive cast I have decided my (though I love them all) favorite poly pairings are Arthur/Morien and whole crew polycule I’d sell my soul for those but I 100% understand why you can’t really do that. I don’t think I have the endurance in me to code a single poly no matter how much I wish it so the fact you’re doing any let alone several is just god tier you are awe inspiring.

Alas I have rambled far far to much I wish I could be more eloquent in expressing just how much I enjoyed experiencing all of this but for now this is the best I can do (╥ω╥). Thank you for sharing your wonderful work it’s truly a gift to experience. ଘ(੭ˊ꒳​ˋ)੭✧ I wish you wealth, health, and all the best in all your creative endeavors. -🐌

No, please please do not apologize. You made my entire week <3 This ask is straight up going into the folder where i keep my motivation to write and to be just a little proud of my work, thank you so so much for sending it.

For anyone having the same thoughts about liking or reblogging old posts: please do it. When I see the notifications, get very giddy and pleased, and I hope you are enjoying the food. Liking, and especially reblogging things, even more so if you add tags and reactons, not only fills me with glee but it also reminds me of old asks that I want to reblog again for new followers. So yeah, I love it, please feel free to go on a liking/reblogging spree!

You are so relatable for the maladaptive daydreaming (this game was absolutely born out of my own mental movies), I wish I could speed up the writing and editing for the next update so you can read it while you travel but I'm afraid it's a lost cause (I have been working on things, even now, but I am currently rewriting like half of it and while it is way better it takes sooo much time and energy). Knowing my characters and story are in someone's thoughts it the best kind of reward I need. I will never likely monetise this game, so this is the thing I wish to leave people with, and I hope the characters can be comforting and keep you company <3

You have no idea how much I would love to write the full polycule... maybe one day :,) But don't lose hope for the Arthur/Morien poly yet, as I decided to cancel the Gwyar/Morien poly and now I have a potentially free slot. In any case, awww, please know that this ask made me so happy today and will be in my thoughts as tkh is in yours.

Please have a lovely day and a lovely week and also a very lovely trip! Thank you again so so much!!

[senorabond]

Rumor Has It: Chapter 8 Peña x f!reader x Pike

Pairings: Javier Peña x f!reader; Marcus Pike x f!reader; future Peña x f!reader x Pike

Chapter 8 Summary: Before going any further, you set some ground rules with Javi. Then it's fucking game on.

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI), Explicit sexual content, additional warnings may be added for future chapters

Chapter Warnings: no use of y/n, previous relationship (Marcus x f!Reader), flashback, slowburn that got hot, workplace romance, ohh the yearning, fake relationship, keeping it secret, unprotected PIV sex (stay safe, folks), Dom/sub dynamic, use of Daddy, slight degradation kink (you’re a good little slut/whore), rough sex, possessiveness, cuckolding if you squint (I really don’t know how to describe it), dirty talk (Javi has a filthy mouth), light titty/ass spanking (2 light, 1 harder), hair pulling, spit, talk about anal, very light cumplay/eating, aftercare, soft!Javi, a bit of feels. 

Reader/Character notes: Reader is fem!afab; No mention of Reader’s body size, shape, composition, or skin color. Reader is short enough to notice a difference in height without heels and has hair long enough to brush aside and pull back.

Words: 8.1k

Author’s Note: THEY FINALLY FUCK - Jeeeeesus. Took them long enough, huh? Please let me know if I missed anything I should add to the warnings, I feel like I took a kinky bag of scrabble tiles and just dumped them out on the floor with this chapter. This is easily the filthiest fucking thing I’ve ever written, and I’m actually really proud of myself. My new taglist is at the end! If you’d like to be added, just send me a DM or say so in a comment. ❤️

A ginormous thank you to my darling beta, @kilamonster. I could not have written this without your neverending support and tutelage. I can’t wait to write more smut in Spanish with you! Also, I’m not sorry for sending you periodic updates and random questions about the thots running wild in my head. 💋💜 

Also, for anybody else like me who wants to write more smut in Spanish, @kilamonster sent me this incredible resource written by the amazing @urmomsgnocchi. Representation is so important, and this is just one of the many ways writers can do their part to represent different languages and cultures in their work. Please like, comment, and reblog the post so more writers can benefit!

Dividers by @saradika!

Masterlist || Previous Chapter

“Okay, ‘grown ass woman,’” he says, and you let out a small laugh. “I’ve got a choice for you to make.”

“Oh, yeah? And what’s that?” 

“Your place or mine?”

~*~*~*~

Later That Night Texas

You chose your place. Javi says he’ll give you a half hour head start to avoid any suspicion from the other agents. You’ve put your blazer back on and fixed your hair, but the wet heat between your legs remains. 

The gallery event wraps up, and Javi tells the others to report to the conference room the following morning for the official debrief. You check in with Diaz, who is still at the hospital, and are glad to hear that Bateman is already in post-op recovery and doing well. 

Standing in your kitchen back home, old, familiar feelings wash over you. The adrenaline of the night has worn off, leaving you off balance. Marcus comes to mind, and his calm, grounding energy. You groan in frustration. You can’t let thoughts of Marcus creep in and ruin what is happening with Javi. 

What is happening with Javi? Obviously, the sexual tension between you is off the charts; and the chemistry – oh God, the chemistry. Your heart rate goes up just thinking about how it felt to have his mouth and hands on you finally, his hardness pressing into you through his pants… 

Taking a deep breath, you mutter to yourself, “I need a drink.”

Glass of wine at the ready, you kick off your heels and hang up the blazer in your closet. You feel as taut as a harp string and take a large gulp from your wine, hoping it will relax you. Rolling your neck and shoulders, you hear your phone buzz on the kitchen counter.

Setting the glass down, you take a deep breath and pick up your phone. 

It’s a text from Javi. Maybe he changed his mind, or decided sleeping together wasn’t worth the risk to the case or your careers. Unlocking the screen, you read the text only to see that he’s giving you a final chance to change your mind.

I’m here. Do you still want me to come inside?

Peeping through the blinds, you look down at the parking lot outside your apartment building. The streetlamp casts just enough light to see Javi’s Jeep parked in one of the visitors’ spots. The man himself is in shadow, pacing a bit and fidgeting with his phone, presumably waiting for your reply. You smile, realizing that he might actually be a tad nervous too.

Opening your front door, the light from your apartment spills across the walkway outside and catches Javi’s attention. He stops and looks up expectantly to where you stand, backlit and beckoning to him from the second floor railing. Pocketing his phone, Javi makes a beeline for the stairs and takes them two at a time, reaching you in less than a minute. 

The first thing you notice is the difference in your height, now that you’re barefoot. He’s smiling down at you, fingers dancing at his sides. 

“Touch me,” you reply softly, “please.” 

His tongue pokes out and wets his bottom lip.

“Inside.” Javi’s voice is strained, but firm. 

Turning, you lead him inside your apartment, then hear him shut and lock the door behind him. You start to face him, but he interrupts. 

“Don’t. Stay like that for me.” 

Footsteps approach slowly from behind, making a coil tighten in your lower belly. You feel his presence at your back before he even touches you. Goosebumps erupt across your flesh as his fingers lightly graze your shoulders and upper arms. 

A hand sweeps your hair to one side and off your neck. You tilt your head in the same direction, hoping to feel his lips on your sensitive skin. Javi’s hands still and he leans over to speak low in your ear. 

“If we do this, I only have one rule.” 

You smirk, remembering the first time he said that. 

“You make the rules?” You start to turn your head to look at him, but his grip on your upper arms tightens just enough to hold you in place. His mustache twitches against the shell of your ear as he smiles, sending delicious signals to your already peaked nipples.

“No.” He takes a breath through his nose, smelling your hair. “You do.”

You let out a surprised Oh. 

“You’re in charge of this; you decide what we do or don’t do, and how far this goes.” He walks around to face you, and you’re surprised to see how gentle his eyes are. They’re round and sincere, serious but not stern. You can’t wait to see them looking up at you from between your legs.

“Understand?”

You nod and he cups your face, running the pad of his thumb over your mouth and parting your lips.

“Use your words, cariño. I need to hear it.”

“I understand,” you say, then drag the tip of your tongue against his thumb. He lets out a pleased hum. 

“Good. Now, tell me your rules.” His other hand strokes your lower back, sending shivers up your spine.

“Oh. Um, I – I don’t know,” you stutter. 

He drops his hands and takes half a step back. “We’re not doing anything until you set the rules.”

“But–”

“This is important, cariño. I’ll give you a moment to gather your thoughts.” 

And just like that, Javi’s walking away from you and sitting on your couch. What the hell is happening here? 

He’s right, of course, damn the man. You want to be mad, but don’t know what to be mad about – how respectful he is? Letting out a deep sigh, you go back to the kitchen and pick up your glass of wine. 

“Can I get you anything to drink while you wait?” Your voice comes out a bit more caustic than intended, and the sound of Javi’s throaty chuckle from the living room makes you bristle. 

“Whatever you’re having is fine.” 

The man sounds so calm and unfazed you want to throw something at him, but instead, you pout like a grown up and pour another glass. You set it on the small end table to his left and start pacing back and forth in front of the coffee table. 

Stuck in a quandary like this, you used to be able to call Marcus up and talk it through, but that sounds as appealing as lemon juice in a paper cut right now. Besides, even if Marcus would help you get laid, he’s probably busy with his girlfriend.

Sighing, you sit down next to Javi and face him. In this position, the hem of your dress rides all the way to the top of your hip, but you’re in no mood to be modest. Javi takes a sip of his wine and turns slightly in your direction. He puts an arm along the top of the couch, and you try not to notice the way his suit jacket opens, revealing his broad chest sloping down to hint at a soft belly. His thighs splay invitingly, and you bite your bottom lip. 

“Cariño?” Javi’s eyes sparkle with mischief. 

“Right. The rules.” You set your glass of wine down and try to focus. Javi waits patiently, but you can see his fingers toying with the fabric on the back of the couch. He’s just as anxious to get this part over with.

“Rule number one: nothing at work. Ever. Not even after hours or in the parking lot. Nothing.” 

Javi nods in stout agreement. 

“Rule number two: it’s just sex. We’re simply two consenting adults with insane chemistry, privately enjoying the hell out of each other’s bodies.” 

“Enthusiastically consenting,” Javi smirks, and sets his glass of wine next to yours so he can stroke your bare thigh. The hunger in his eyes is distracting, but you manage to pull your thoughts together one last time.

“And lastly, but most importantly – rule number three: what happens undercover stays undercover.”

Javi’s hand stills on your skin and he looks at you curiously. “You mind expanding on that a bit?”

“Our cover is just that; a story, playing pretend. We don’t let it blur the lines of whatever we do outside of the investigation. We have to compartmentalize.” 

Javi takes a moment, considering what you’ve said, then nods. Looking you over, he slides his hand up to your hip and leans in, closing the space between you on the couch. 

“I guess that means we better get out of these clothes.” 

“That's a great –” You don’t even get to complete the sentence before his mouth is on yours again. In seconds, his mouth is devouring yours again, his hands feverishly roaming over your hips and ass. 

Javi takes his hands away just long enough to shrug out of his suit jacket while you make quick work of removing his tie. He tries to pull the straps of your dress down, but they get stuck on your shoulders. Grunting in frustration, his hands try locating the zipper of your dress on your back. 

You might have let him struggle a bit more simply for the fun of it, but your skin is on fire, desperate to feel more of him. 

You pull your mouth away from his long enough to gasp, “On the side. Here,” and point to the thin zipper hidden in the ruched fabric. 

“You’re lucky you said something, I was about to rip this thing off you,” Javi growls, making you giggle. “Does that amuse you, cariño? Making me suffer?”

“Maybe a little,” you admit with a small shrug, but your voice is breathless. He’s moved his mouth to your neck, where he licks a swath of skin across your fluttering pulse.

The zipper is finally down, and Javi tugs the straps of your dress and bra down at the same time, pinning your arms to your side and freeing your breasts. 

“Jesus,” he breathes, taking in your exposed flesh. He pulls you up so you’re kneeling before him on the couch, your breasts level with his face. Leaning in, he stops just shy of one pebbled nipple, his hot exhalation warming your sensitive skin. Your hands itch to grab his hair and pull him in, but the suspense is delicious. 

Javi palms your other breast and glides his thumb over the nipple, making you whimper. He lets out a strangled sound in his throat before latching his mouth onto the peaked bud in front of him, sending an electric current straight to your pulsing core. 

Your head falls back with a gasp, and Javi pulls your body closer, moaning around your nipple. Javi is too engrossed in giving your other tit the same treatment to notice you straining at the straps of your dress and bra. 

“Please,” you whimper. He pulls off your breast with a small pop and looks up at you, still massaging and caressing the flesh in each hand. His eyes are dark in the dim light of the living room, but you can see them glazed over with lust. 

Javi watches you expectantly, waiting for you to voice your request.

“Please let me touch you.” 

He smiles, giving you a small thrill. 

“You asked so nicely.”

It's not the yes you wanted, so you wait. He leans in to kiss the tops of your breasts and traces a line up your clavicle with the tip of his tongue. 

“Stand up, cariño.”

With his assistance you get up off the couch and face him, standing between his knees. The straps of your clothing are loose enough now to pull yourself free, but you wait for Javi to give his assent. He smiles softly at you from his seat on the couch, openly admiring your body on display for him. 

“Take it off,” he instructs. “Slowly.” 

You shed the form-fitting dress like a second skin, taking care to pull it down slowly and exaggerating the wiggle of your hips, before dropping it to the floor.

“The bra, too,” Javi amends, his breath coming out a bit labored. The bra joins the dress at your feet, and you kick the garments to the side, standing before Javi in only your panties. 

You love seeing that he’s just as affected as you are. He rubs sweaty palms on his pant legs, and grips the edge of the couch cushion to keep from launching himself at you. He likes this game, too.

This is the feeling you missed – letting go of all your thoughts and worries, pleasing a partner so much by obeying simple commands, trusting that partner to not take advantage of the authority you allow them to have over you. This kind of power feels intoxicating and freeing all at once. 

He lifts his hips slightly to adjust himself, and the small thrust draws your attention to his lap, your eyes widening at the clear bulge in his pants. A discoloration on the fabric, left there by your own arousal, is the only evidence of how this all started back at the gallery.

Standing there, nearly naked in front of a fully clothed man, even one with as commanding a presence as Javier Peña, doesn’t make you feel as vulnerable as you thought it might. 

“Ah ah,” Javi tuts when he sees your fingers toying at the waistband of your last scrap of clothing. He gives his hard cock a squeeze with the hand in his lap, then draws a small circle in the air with one finger. “Turn around, hermosa.” 

This is what makes you feel vulnerable, being unable to see Javi or know what he’s doing behind you. What you felt earlier when Javi stood behind you in the entryway of your apartment is nothing compared to the intensity of this moment. 

The couch creaks, and you know he’s standing behind you – is it a change in the air pressure, or the heat emanating from his core? 

Javi leaves mere centimeters separating your bodies, his breath the only sound you hear over the whooshing of your own heartbeat in your ears. Goosebumps spread again across your shoulders and down your spine, as though your skin is doing whatever it can to get closer to him. Tingles arc across your scalp, and you shut your eyes tight against the sensations your body conjures in the absence and anticipation of his touch.

The hairs on the back of your neck prickle and you flinch a bit when he gently sweeps your errant locks to the side, careful not to make contact with your skin. An elusive tickle at the shell of your ear has you tilting your head to the side. The bristle of his mustache sweeps across the tender area as he speaks, low enough to bring a tremor to your sternum. 

“Are you going to listen to me, cariño?” 

Your mouth pops open into a small ‘O’, and you nod. 

“Use your words, hermosa. I won’t tell you again.” There’s an edge in Javi’s voice, and you’re not sure if it’s the edge of authority or desperation. 

The walls of your pussy grasp around nothing, and your clit throbs in time with your pulse. Digging fingernail crescents into your palms, you make fists at your sides and curl your toes into the plush rug under your feet. 

“I–” Your mouth is dry and you swallow thickly to form the words he needs to hear. “I am. I’m going to listen to you.” 

Javi wraps an arm around your middle, pinning you to the wall of his chest, as his other hand snakes down to cup your sex over your soaked panties. The sudden contact pulls a moan from deep in your throat and the relief makes you sag against him.

“I know you will.” The murmur in your ear is soft and warm, reassuring. The hand of the arm wrapped around you cups your breast, while the other presses the heel of its palm into your mound over your clit. 

“Javi.” His name is an exhalation. “I need you.”

Your body has a mind of its own, and right now you are a slave to its impulses. Your hips move involuntarily, trying to rock into Javi’s hand, large enough to engulf your whole sex, then grind back onto his cock pressed hard against your ass. 

“I know, I know.” 

Javi’s words are both balm and incendiary. A small whine comes out of your mouth, and you press a hand over Javi’s, trying to increase the pressure over your clit.

“Mierda, cariño, you’re so eager.” He rolls your nipple between thumb and forefinger, giving it a pinch hard enough to make you gasp. “You better take me to bed, then.” 

On unsteady feet, you lead Javi to the master bedroom. Standing at the side of your bed, you feel a bit bashful and unsure of what to do with yourself.

“Sit down.” 

You obey and perch on the edge of the mattress, then wait for his next move. Javi saunters over, fingers going to his belt buckle, and stops in front of you. Your eyes flicker between his hands and his face, peering up at him through your eyelashes. 

Javi palms himself through his pants and your mouth floods with saliva. You suck your bottom lip into your mouth and bite it a little to keep from drooling. 

“So, this is it, huh?” He unbuckles the leather belt, then pulls it free from the loops around his slim waist in a single movement, catching you off guard.  

“This…what?” 

“This is your bed,” he reaches out and strokes your face, then holds your chin in his hand. “Where you let Pike fuck you.”

Abashed, you don’t answer right away, feeling the heat creep up your neck and bloom across your chest. You remember that Javi wants you to answer him, just the way Marcus did, by using your words.

“Yes, he fucked me in this bed.”

Javi strokes your chin with his thumb, then removes his hand to start unbuttoning his shirt. Your eyes glaze over slightly, your breath feels shallow. Javi’s gaze feels hot on your skin, and you can see his pulse beating on the side of his neck. 

Keeping your arms straight behind you, you put your tits on display, hoping to entice Javi to put his hands back on you. Spreading your knees apart, you want him to see the scrap of wet fabric covering your pussy. 

He lets out a deep breath through his nose that’s almost a growl, and strips his shirt completely off over his head, not bothering to finish unbuttoning it. Javi stands there, gripping his cock over his pants. 

“Show me.” His words rasp in the back of his throat.

Slowly, deliberately, you pull the gusset of your panties to the side, exposing yourself to him. Chest heaving, he doesn’t say anything for a few breaths.

“Lie down on the bed. Now.” Javi’s words have a bite to them, and you scurry to follow his command. 

You scoot backwards towards the middle of the bed, not willing to take your eyes off the man for a second. Pulling the covers back, Javi helps you locate the fitted sheet and move the comforter out of your way. He palms his dick one more time before taking off his pants, eyes glued to the apex of your thighs. 

“Take them off.”

Hooking your thumbs into the waistband, you lift your hips enough to slide your panties down, then kick them off the side of the bed. Unconsciously, your knees fall open more when Javi pulls his underwear off and you see his cock spring out of his boxers. 

Javi fists his hard length and gives it a couple strokes, precum pearling at the tip. You swallow, wishing you could take him in your mouth and taste the saltiness. 

“Touch yourself for me.” He sits on the side of the bed next to you, and his cock twitches in his hand. “Show me what makes that pretty pussy feel good, cariño.” 

Settling back on the pillows, you slide your hand over your breast and abdomen, down over your mound to your weeping center. You’ve barely touched your swollen and tender folds before you let out a whimper. 

“That’s it, querida,” Javi’s voice, filled with hunger, urges you on. 

Dipping a finger into your core, you use your own slick to glide between your lips, your breath coming out in sharp huffs. Touching the bundle of nerves at the top of your slit is like touching a live wire. Using the flat pads of two fingers, you apply gentle pressure to your clit, gliding easily now with your abundant arousal, closing your eyes from the intensity. 

A warm caress on the inside of your knee and thigh is Javi’s only touch, but it’s enough to make you moan and thrust your hips up into both your hand and his.  

“So impatient,” he remarks. His tone doesn’t match his mocking words, and you open your eyes again to see him slowly stroking his cock as he watches your fingers. 

“Javi, please.” Desperation laces your plea as you writhe into your hand, increasing the pressure on your clit. Using your other hand to play with your tits, you pinch and roll your nipples. “Please touch me.”

“Don’t stop touching yourself.” 

Javi leans over to kiss your breasts and stomach, then moves to kneel between your feet, firmly grasping the base of his cock. He lays down between your thighs, adjusting his cock so it’s pinned between his body and the mattress. 

“Please-please-please,” you whisper like a prayer. 

“You sound so sweet when you beg.” He takes your fingers off your clit and sucks them into his mouth.

You wonder if his resolve has finally cracked, because he wastes no time pushing your hand out of the way and licking a thick stripe from dripping hole to pulsing clit. 

“Fuck, Javi!” Your startled cry doesn’t deter him or slow him down, if anything it only spurs him on. He places a hand on the back of one knee and pushes your leg back, allowing his tongue easier access. The rumble of his deep, satisfied groan only adds fuel to the fire burning in the pit of your belly. 

He turns his head to kiss and nibble at your inner thigh long enough to say, “Jesus, you taste better than I imagined,” before returning to lap at the flow of your arousal. The hair on his upper lip is a sharply contrasting sensation to the thick, languid stroke of his tongue on your oversensitive flesh.

Javi’s broad shoulders under your thighs push your body up the mattress with every eager thrust of his tongue. Reaching behind you with one hand to brace against the headboard provides a bit of resistance, giving you just enough traction to bump your clit against the arch of his nose. It’s not enough, though, you need more. In vain, you try lifting your hips up to meet Javi’s face. 

A heavy arm wraps around your hip and pins you to the mattress. Whining in frustration, you look down to see Javi’s eyes trained on your face. Those large, dark orbs are fixed in a determined glare. Seeing them look up at you from between your thighs is a sight to behold.

Feeling bold, but mostly curious, you tentatively reach down and thread the fingers of your other hand through Javi’s thick hair. His eyes almost flutter closed for a moment, and the hand holding your leg back eases. You keep the knee bent, though, holding yourself open for him. 

Jaw slack, you watch transfixed as Javi captures your clit between his lips that are wet and shiny with your own slick. He circles his tongue around the engorged bud, the very tip sliding gently under the hood and making your hips spasm up to his face, again and again.

Panting, eyes squeezed shut, you focus on the feeling of his tongue, bordering on too much. With Javi’s hair clutched in one fist, you cling with the other to the slats of the headboard and undulate up against his plump lips. 

A thick finger prods gently at your opening, moving around to get the tip wet. Javi’s lips and tongue never leave your clit, and you resist the urge to pull his head into you by his hair, scared he’ll stop if you do.

The finger slips in, stopping at the first knuckle. 

“You want me to fuck you, cariño?” Javi’s voice is rough. “Is that what you want?” 

“Uh huh.” It comes out with a moan as the finger slips in all the way. “Hnh, shit…yes – yes, I want you to fuck me. Please fuck me.” The rest of the words tumble from your mouth.

“Then I’ve got to get you nice and ready for my cock.” He returns to giving your clit the attention it craves. Javi’s finger starts pumping in and out, stretching your walls around its thickness. 

“Fuck...fuck,” you curse and moan in time with each thrust. The beginnings of your orgasm begin to unfurl deep inside.

Javi keeps moving his finger in and out of you until it’s sliding without resistance, then starts teasing your entrance with the tip of a second. With his other hand, he spreads your lips and holds you open. 

“Christ, would you look at that?” You open your eyes to see Javi watching his two fingers sink into you, drawing out a moan from deep in your belly. “Fucking beautiful. Can’t wait to watch my cock split you open like this.”

You let go of Javi’s hair to grip the pillow under your head. You’re lifting your hips up in time to meet every thrust of his thick fingers. 

You can’t tell what’s more obscene, the sounds coming from your mouth or from between your legs. Turning your face into the pillow, you try to muffle some of your moans.

“Don’t cover your mouth, baby. I want to hear every fucking sound you make.” 

“But,” you gasp, trying to form the words, “neighbors…” 

“I want them to hear how good I make you feel, too.” He keeps his fingers buried to the knuckle inside you and crooks them just right, making you arch your back and moan. 

“Thaaat’s it, let me hear you.” Tension coils, your pussy clenching down on the continuous movement of his fingers pumping and curling. 

“Relax for me, cariño. I’ll never fit my cock inside you if you keep squeezing my fingers like that.” 

The filth spilling from his mouth has got you wound up so tight, it’s a wonder he can still move his fingers at all. He sucks your clit back between his lips, but your hips are bucking so hard he can’t keep a good hold on it. Instead, he drips saliva at the top of your slit, then spreads it with his thumb, around and around, letting your rolling hips determine the pace and pressure.

“Javi,...I’m–fuck, I’m getting close.” 

“Is this how he got you ready? Hm? Would he make you cum first on his fingers and tongue?” 

“Wha– unh, god.” What the fuck is he saying? Your mind is so fuzzy, the pleasure leaving almost no room for thought or reason.

“I bet he would. I bet he’d get you nice and wet, then work you open for his cock.” 

He’s asking about Marcus again, you realize. You feel the mattress shift and realize Javi’s rutting into the mattress in time with your hips. Knowing how turned on Javi is, it’s almost enough to tip you over the edge right then. 

“Yes, he– he made me cum first.” 

“Hard?” 

“Yes! God, Javi, that feels so good – please don’t stop.” You’re white-knuckling the pillow and headboard, getting closer to the edge, the pleas falling from your lips without thought. 

“He must have been something, for you to still be hung up on him. Still hungry for his cock.” 

Javi spits again, more lewdly this time in his excitement, and increases the pressure of his thumb over your clit.

“Fuck, I feel it – I know you’re getting close, cariño.” Javi’s hips keep rocking into the mattress. “Are you going to cum for me?”

Your breath comes out in gasps, you can only nod in response, eyes shut tight. 

“That’s it, hermosa, cum for me.” Javi’s words have you teetering on the edge. “Cum for me so I can give you my cock.”

With that final push, your fluttering walls spasm and pulse around Javi’s fingers, and he works you through it, groaning as he watches you writhing on his hand. 

Javi doesn’t even let the final shudders or your orgasm subside before he’s licking your cum off his fingers like an indulgent dessert. He gives your mound a kiss, then your belly, ribs, and breasts, getting on his knees between your thighs and leaning over you, murmuring praise in a heady mixture of English and Spanish.

“That was so good, cariño, you were so good. Eres tan bonita, y sabes pinche dulce.” Leaning on one elbow, he traces your lips with the fingers that were inside you. 

“Have you ever tasted yourself?” You nod, opening your mouth and licking the tip of one finger. Javi slips it past your lips, he lets out a sigh and says, “I’m going to have a lot of fun with that mouth.” 

Moaning, you begin sucking eagerly at his fingers, showing him what he could look forward to. He fucks them into your mouth a few times before pulling them out, much to your disappointment. 

“Another time, cariño. I need to be in that sweet pussy now.” 

Javi kisses you deeply, the taste of your cum mingling on your tongues. His mustache is wet with your slick, and you run the tip of your tongue along the ridge of his upper lip, the hairs tickling. He shudders and pulls away with a low grunt.

“Condoms?” Is all he can get out in between ravishing your neck and breasts with kisses.

“Drawer.” You gesture weakly to your nightstand, running your fingers through his hair. He stretches to pull the drawer open and pulls out the unopened box of condoms you’ve had there since you moved into the apartment.

“A brand new box, just for me?” His tone is teasing as he sits back on his knees. He tears the box open and rips off a condom from the strip, tossing the rest back in the drawer. 

“Um–” You get distracted watching him fist his cock. With a clearer head after your orgasm, you finally have the wherewithal to notice he’s thick and uncut. Biting your bottom lip, you think about how much fun you’ll have with him in your hands and mouth once he gives you the chance.

“Cariño?” Javi fixes you with an authoritative eye that makes your stomach flip. 

“It’s not new, exactly. I just haven’t needed to open it yet.” 

He looks at you curiously, and you start feeling a bit anxious. 

“Are you telling me you haven’t had sex since you moved here?” 

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you say, “It’s not like I haven’t tried.” 

Feeling a bit self-conscious, you look away and pull your knees together slightly. Javi’s hand on your thigh stops you. His eyes have softened.

Javi settles between your thighs, bracing himself while he leans down and kisses you slowly. His chest is firm under your hands, and the steady beat of his heart feels grounding. He places light kisses along your jaw up to your ear.

“The last time you had a cock inside you,” he pauses to take a breath, “was with Pike?” 

You give a small nod, both of you breathing so heavily your chests press into one another on inhalation. Javi pulls back to look at you, his eyes shifting between yours and keeping you in focus. 

“Can I fuck you bare, cariño?” 

He’s not asking this lightly, and you know without him having to say that he will gladly accept whatever is your decision. You clench at the prospect of feeling all of Javi inside you and nod vigorously.

“Yes.” 

Javi kisses you deeply and holds your face in one hand, pressing his forehead to yours. 

“Thank you for trusting me,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice deep and a bit rough. You know he’s trusting you just as much.

You continue to kiss, your hands running across his shoulders and upper back, then into his hair again. He groans into your mouth as you stroke your fingers through his thick locks. 

You tilt your hips and spread your legs a bit wider, opening yourself up for him. Balancing himself on one arm, he guides the head of his cock between your folds, then slides it slowly up and down a few times, gathering your slick. You’re so wet, he’ll have no trouble entering you.

“Javi...” 

“I know, I know.” Javi presses the head of his cock at your entrance and groans. “Are you ready to take my cock, cariño?” 

He sits back on his knees to watch your response, his breath short and labored from holding back when you know all he wants is to plunge all the way inside you with one thrust. You roll your hips up, moaning as the tip of his swollen cock head nudges inside you. Javi grunts and pulls back a bit, gripping onto your hip. 

“Fuck, look at you – you can’t wait to feel my cock filling you up.” 

“Please, Javi. Please give me your cock. I need it,” you beg breathlessly. 

“That’s my girl, tell me what you need,” Javi soothes his hand over your flesh, rocking his hips forward and slipping just an inch inside you, then back out. In and out, until the head is fully inside.

“I need your cock.” He pushes a bit more inside you each time he rocks his hips, caressing your belly and breasts with his other hand. “I need you to fuck me with your cock.” 

“You’re still so tight, baby.” Javi huffs through flared nostrils, gritting his teeth, barely holding himself back.

“Javi, please–” Your whine chokes off with a sob as he plunges forward with a grunt.

“Fuuuuuck,” he rasps, pulling out half way, then burying himself fully in your cunt. “Is that what you needed, cariño?” He thrusts, watching his cock disappearing inside you again. 

“Yes,” you whisper, letting your head fall back limply onto the pillow.

“Are you happy now that you have my cock?” Javi’s keeping his thrusts slow, but full and deep. He’s breathing heavily from his pent up lust, still not fully letting himself go. 

“Yes.” The stretch of him inside you was mind numbing.  

“I knew you’d be good at taking my cock, baby. You’re opening up so well for me.” Javi hooks one of your legs over his arm. “You ready for me to really fuck you now?” 

“Yes, Javi – fuck me, please.” 

Javi’s hips start picking up their pace, snapping forward to fill your pussy. For a few moments, you and Javi are lost to the sensations, moaning in unison every time he bottoms out inside you.

“You feel so good wrapped around my cock, hermosa.” His grip on the leg over his arm tightens. You pull your other leg back, allowing him even deeper and he swears. “I can feel your pussy sucking me in.” 

He leans over, holding himself up with a hand beside your head. The change in the angle makes you gasp and clench around him.

“Mírame – look at me, cariño.” 

Javi is a vision above you with his forehead furrowed and mouth open. 

“What did he call you?” He slows his thrusts. “Hm? What did Pike call you when he was fucking you?” 

You look at him with wide eyes, mouth agape. He smiles, and slows almost to a stop. 

“Dimelo…” He grinds his hips into you, making you whine. “Tell me – now.” 

“I was his good girl.” Your pussy walls contract involuntarily with your confession, making Javi moan. 

“Fuck,” he starts thrusting again, “I bet you were so good for him. Were you?” 

“Yes. Yes, I was his good girl.” Javi moves the leg over his arm up to his shoulder, holding onto it for leverage as he fucks into you. 

“And what did you call him when you were his good girl?” His words come out a bit unevenly. Javi waits for your response, but you’re distracted by how deep his cock is. 

A swift but light slap lands on your tit. “Answer me.” 

You gasp, but he has your attention now, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“I called him Sir.”  

“Mierda, you’re drenching my cock right now. I bet you’re thinking about how his cock felt in your tight pussy, how it filled and stretched you.” 

“Oh, god–” You brace your arms over your head, using the headboard for resistance against the onslaught of Javi’s thrusts. 

Thoughts of Marcus and Javi swim together, the memory of Marcus’ touch with the reality of Javi’s. The walls of your pussy begin to flutter as your second orgasm of the night starts to build. 

Javi’s heavy breathing is surpassed by the sound of his thighs and balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. 

“Well, if you were his good girl, then you’re my slutty little princesa. You’re my little whore. Me entiendes?” 

“Yes, yes – I understand.” Your eyes are practically rolling into the back of your head when you feel Javi suddenly stop and pull out. Gasping, your eyes fly open in shock. He’s panting, and his neck glistens, flushed a beautiful shade of crimson with the veins prominently standing out. 

“Roll over – c’mon, on your knees.” You obey, desperate to have his cock buried in you once again. 

“Hands up here, flat.” He taps the headboard. His commands are light and natural, easy to follow. 

“If you’re going to be my little whore, I’m going to fuck you like one.” 

Assuming the position, Javi uses a knee to nudge your shaking legs wider, then pulls your ass back so you’re bent slightly over. 

“So what are you going to call me, huh?” He smooths your hair back off your face, sweaty at your temples, and gathers it loosely in his fist. He gives it a gentle tug, prompting you to answer his question.

“I don’t know,” you gasp, and arch into his touch as he smoothes a hand over your ass. He guides his cock and slides back into your cunt in a single thrust, making the headboard sway close to the wall. 

“I said keep your hands flat,” he reminds you, and gives your ass a small smack for good measure. 

Your fingers flex, and you spread them wide, straightening your elbows for balance. His free hand fondles your breasts one at a time, kneading them before pinching your nipples. 

“C’mon, princesa,” he urges, voice low behind your ear as he starts fucking you again. Your head gets tugged back by your hair in his fist at the nape of your neck as he fucks you harder. The angle of his cock hits that sweet spot inside you, making your eyes roll back. 

“What are you going to call me when I’m fucking you like my little slut?” His hot tongue licks over your pulse point. The filthy words spilling out of his mouth are making you dizzy. “Huh? When I’m pounding this pussy so good, you can’t fucking help yourself?” 

“Daddy.” 

It comes out in a soft, timid whimper. 

Javi smacks your ass with a stinging hand and growls in your ear, “Louder.” 

“Daddy!” 

“Theeere it fucking is.” Javi groans deeply in satisfaction, then licks his fingers and rubs them over your clit in time with his thrusts. “What a good little whore, taking Daddy’s cock so well.” 

He lets go of your hair to grip your shoulder where it meets your neck, pulling you back onto his cock. There is no way your neighbors can’t hear the noises coming from your mouth now. You’ve completely surrendered over to Javi, and you’re certain that if he were to take his hands away you’d fall over lifeless like a doll. 

“Daddy, I’m close.” 

The intensity of Javi’s hands, cock, and filthy mouth is so overwhelming, you can barely get the words out.

“Are you going to cum on Daddy’s cock, princesa?” Javi’s voice is ragged, his hips stuttering. 

“Imagine what he’d say – unh – if he saw you like this – absolutely wrecked, being someone else’s fuck toy.” 

He must be getting close too as his cock throbs inside you, his pace faltering.

The thought of Marcus watching you get railed by Javi has you on the very brink. You can’t hold back the moans now and Javi increases the pressure and speed of his fingers over your clit. Your cunt spasms, and his cock throbs in response.

“Mierda, you’re choking my dick. Damelo, princesa – give it to me, cum for Daddy.”

Your orgasm rips through you like a freight train, all while Javi talks and fucks you through it. 

“Fuuuck, yes – that’s it, cum all over Daddy’s cock. You’re squeezing me so tight.” 

Javi’s thrusts slow during your most intense spasms, and the fingers on your clit still, but maintain their pressure. You ride it out, reaching back to stroke Javi’s hair while you spasm around him.

Your head begins to loll a bit, exhaustion setting in after the two mind-melting orgasms. He wraps his arms around you, then slowly lowers your upper body onto the mattress, draping his body over yours. You hug a pillow to your chest, supporting yourself while he starts fucking into you, slow and deep. 

“What a good little slut.” He grunts softly in your ear each time his cock bottoms out inside you, fucking little whimpers out of you with every thrust.

“So good for Daddy.” Javi kisses your neck and the back of your shoulder. “You took Daddy’s cock so well, gonna give you my cum.” He’s beginning to get a bit breathless, his thighs shaking, thrusts getting erratic. 

In this position, you’re able to reach a hand back and spread your fingers on either side of his cock as it moves. A bit further, and you’re grazing his balls every so lightly and feel them beginning to tighten and retract. 

“Unh – fuck, yeah…” Javi groans through gritted teeth, then nips lightly at your shoulder making you gasp.

“Daddy, please cum for me. I want your cum. Please give it to me.” 

You’re babbling, your senses focused solely on the sound of Javi’s labored breathing, the feel of his cock twitching inside you, chasing that high with him. 

“Where do you want Daddy’s cum, princesa?” His words are strained now. He rises back up onto his knees, supporting himself with a hand between your shoulder blades.

“Anywhere you want, Daddy.” You contract the walls of your cunt around him for emphasis and he moans.

“Fuck, baby, don’t tempt me, I’m so close… But I think I want something else.” He grabs the globes of your ass with both hands, squeezing them, pulling them apart to see everything. 

“You ever let Pike fuck your ass?” 

You involuntarily clench around Javi. You and Marcus had certainly discussed it, experimented a little, but he’d never fucked you there.

“No...” 

“Mmm, good. Then I’m gonna paint that ass with my cum. Esta cosa es mía ahora. It’s fucking mine.”  

Eyes wide, you stretch your neck to watch Javi over your shoulder as he starts fucking you at a frenetic pace. His face, neck, and chest are flushed and gleaming with sweat. His brow is furrowed deep in concentration, teeth bared into a grimace. He lands a rough slap on your ass that makes you moan.

“Yes, Daddy – my ass is yours, only yours.��� 

“That’s right, princesa – all mine,” he wheezes. 

Just when you think he’s about to burst inside you, Javi pulls out and starts furiously jerking his cock. Thick ropes of cum land in stripes across your ass and lower back, each spasm pulling a deep, breathy moan from him. He takes deep gulps of air into his lungs, milking every last drop of cum. 

Clenching around nothing, you moan with the pleasure of bringing him to release. You’re secretly thrilled at seeing Javi brought to this degree of vulnerability. 

Javi leans over and licks a small drop of cum that landed on the swell of your cheek. He bites the flesh then sucks, letting go with a pop. It’s done without inhibition or hesitation, just an impulsive, erotic claim of your body.

“Next time, princesa,” he pauses to smear the pooling cum lightly over your asshole, “I’m going to watch that beautiful face when I make you cum on Daddy’s cock.”

“Mm, I’d like that,” you say softly, and close your eyes, the adrenaline waning. Staying still for a moment, you take a deep breath, enjoying the familiar, empty ache between your thighs that can only come after an amazing fuck. 

You start to lower your legs to lie in a prone position, but Javi wraps his arms around you as support, lowering you gently to the mattress. 

“I’ve got you, cariño.” 

You’re vaguely aware of Javi stepping into the en suite bathroom and returning with a warm wet washcloth. He gently wipes you clean and fixes the covers. 

A few moments later, you feel the mattress shift as he climbs into bed next to you. Strong arms pull you into a warm embrace. A light kiss to your forehead tickles with the soft hairs of Javi’s mustache.

Sighing, you roll your body against his, resting your head on his shoulder and draping an arm across his chest. He smooths your hair off your forehead and brushes a soft kiss to your head, stroking your arm. With the steady rise and fall of Javi’s chest, the last thing you remember before drifting off is his whispered, “Sweet dreams, cariño.”

~*~*~*~

Javi doesn’t even crave a cigarette. And he can’t remember the last time he stuck around this long after sleeping with someone. Once you fall asleep in his arms, he doesn't want to risk waking you, and there is no way in hell he’s going to sneak out on you. 

He reasons that he’ll relax for a bit, then wake you up to say goodbye. But the feel of you in his arms is better than he let himself indulgently imagine these past few weeks. The softness of your curves, the weight of your head on his shoulder; the implicit trust you placed in him this evening, and the ease with which you fell asleep with him holding you… 

It doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep too. At some point in the night he stirs, and realizes you’re out of bed, but doesn’t know what time it is. The apartment is dark now, and the only light comes peeking out from the bottom of the bathroom door. Groaning, he stretches his legs, knowing the soreness in his knees will plague him for the next couple days. 

The light in the bathroom flicks off and the door opens, creaking a little. Your nude form appears, lit only by the ambient light coming through the window from the streetlamps. You pad softly across the carpet and he whispers a soft, “Hey,” so you know he’s awake. You jump just slightly then smile in relief. 

“Hey, yourself,” you whisper in return, then walk to the other side of the bed and climb in. 

“What time is it?” Javi rolls to face you and props his head on his hand. 

“Late – or early, depending on how you look at it.” 

Javi leans over to kiss your lips, then your forehead, trailing the tip of his nose down yours. You hum in that way he’s already familiar with, making him smile. 

“How late-or-early?” 

“Three-ish.” You kiss him, muffling his surprise. 

“Shit, I didn’t mean to fall asleep that long. Sorry.” Javi is about to make his excuses to leave, before you speak again.

“We better go back to sleep now. The debrief is early and I want to get up in time to bring something in for the team.” 

Yawning, you roll away from him and drag his arm around you. Javi smirks, and settles in to spoon your body with his own.

“I guess I don’t need to ask what your rule is about sleeping over, then?” He kisses the back of your shoulder and you press back into him.

“Shut up and go to sleep, Javi.”

“Okay, cariño.”

Chapter 9 - Coming Soon!

Additional Author’s Note: Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for all the lovely comments and reblogs! I can’t tell you how much they mean to me. As always, I would love-love-love to know what you think. I really want to become a better writer, so any and all feedback is welcome! Thank you for reading! 💜

No-Pressure Taglist: @kilamonster @half-moon16 @for-a-longlongtime @pedroswife69 @pedroshotwifey @angiewatson @morallyinept @peepawispunk @i-wanna-be-your-muse @marysucks-blog @guelyury @connectioneverywhere @sunshinehaze1 @drewharrisonwriter @venturawriter @survivingandenduring @thetriumphantpanda

[beartitled]

Can you do some more comics with Francis mosses

I can, but the problem is

That I’m pretty much out of ideas and I’m progressively getting tired of tnmn fandom

Ppl who look at my tags probably noticed that 😓

More of my thoughts under read more for curious ppl

(short answer maybe I will do more, but I desperately need a break from tnmn)

! Just a general warning: this came out kinda long + sort of venty

Originally I planned to do 1 comic drop and move on, but got stuck bc ppl liked tnmn comics and kept asking for more (and still do-)

Generally I don’t mind doing more if the ideas are there, but I want to address this: I’m tired

I know blowing up is usually a good thing and I appreciate people enjoying my stuff

But it’s exhausting to see that tnmn is the only type of content which is relevant, to the point that my own projects or stuff I enjoy are just kinda.. ignored

It’s fair – again my blog is heavily fandom based

(+Tsp were and still is kinda the focus)

But with tnmn fandom it’s a bit… different

Maybe I’m biased and it’s just my negative experience with tiktok comments

Remember this art?

cleaning up transphobic comments was.. um tough

Again, I get that you can’t be in that neat bubble completely sheltered from negativity

Humans are just assholes by nature really/j

So I was expecting the backlash, but not that much

I think maybe tsp fandom spoiled me a bit (in a good way), bc I got a feeling that everyone in tsp was positive of any lgbt+ headcanons and just generally more supportive

(don’t get me wrong, there ARE problems in tsp community too, taking narrators design controversy into account as one of the examples)

Obviously every fandom always has it’s own issues, show me at least one fandom that didn’t have some sort of meaningless controversy or some sort of problematic people in it

It happens

But it leaves a bad taste in your mouth sometimes

And for me personally it only added to not so pleasant experience

The thing I also noticed, when I interacted with other fandoms

Ppl wrote positive stuff first and foremost, not really asking for anything

Here it’s just “hey more. I want more. Do more. Do this character. Do this. Do more.”

The only reason I kept doing more, because likes, reblogs, views – these comics get a ton of attention

there is a audience to please alright

But this thing comes with a pressure tho

and it shows

so let me illustrate

This bookcase

Is my shame

Because I was so rushing, I just copied and colour corrected this bookcase from my diploma comic and pasted it here in hopes for the best

💥IT LOOKS HORRIBLE OKAY💥

Usually it’s normal to take materials used in other projects

the not so normal part is

to leave it like that because your stress reducing tea doesn’t work and you don’t really have time to redraw it

my m en ta l s t a t e i s f i n e ah ah h ah ah

Ok but jokes aside: it’s really tempting, to just abandon everything and produce content like some sort of content farm

But I don’t want to, I’m forcing myself and it makes my art worse

Yes it’s subtle, new people won’t even see this

But I’m not improving

And I don’t enjoy just anxiously popping out comics because everyone keeps asking

I can give it my all to something when I’m passionate, but just “hey I’m getting attention” is not the best motivator

Attention like that does get to my head, I know that I will probably give in again and do more, bc I will compare my posts engagement

But what’s the point of recognition, when you feel.. so numb about it…

Sorry for a mountain of text and thank you for ppl who actually took their time to read it

It’s been building up for a while and I feel like people need to know the reason why I’m not so enthusiastic about making “more”

I’m not necessarily completely abandoning this fandom

I still plan to do ask/suggestions event for STP (I’m just making sure I can dedicate my time to it, that’s why it’s taking so long) and I can add tnmn to the mix

Like STP+tnmn kind of deal

But for now – I need a break

At least for a little bit

[hobiebrownismygod]

Do you know any e-42! miles morales x reader fanfics similar to yours ?

hmm I do know some accounts that make some great e-42 miles fanfics but I don't think there are any that similar to mine idk

but to get started I'd recommend the following

@kyngjaice --> heart wrenching mm fanfics :(( @teatoptony --> really cute MJ au that lowkey broke my heart when first reading it @daydreaming-en-pointe & @vhstown --> each have made a few but not centered around 42!Miles (gotta give my awesome ff mutuals shoutouts tho)

Sorry if I forgot anyone who writes 42! miles fics or has a 42 centered account. Feel free to comment under if I forgot you and I'll add you asap. I just can't remember all the people who's fics I love on the spot 😭

As for fanfics these are some of the ones I like the most!!

For All The Mary Janes Wear My Love Princess of New York 3AM Frights

These are just a few that were on my dash recently, but if I find more that I like I will definitely reblog them so you'll end up seeing them on your dash if you follow me

But also, the way I write Miles is just my own perception of his character. They're all headcanons. For this reason, theres not gonna be a lot of fics super similar to mine. But if you are looking for things with the same gist I recommend these accounts and stories first!

Keep in mind that my requests are always open so if you ever want to see a 42Miles story and you want it to be in my style, just let me know! I try to get to all my requests as quickly as possible <3

Sorry for the long post but lastly there was one fic I really enjoyed on Wattpad called "You've Changed". I think its one of the best Miles Morales fics I've read and I absolutely love it and recommend it to you!

Hopefully this helps anon :)

[yooniesim]

amari's love shot; a bachelorette challenge

Are you ready to find love in the beautiful seaside town of Tartosa? Amari Walden, successful model and wedding photographer, is looking for her Mr. Right! Known for her appearance on the hit reality show Becoming Mrs. Blackburn 2, Amari is back a year later to take another shot at love. Will you capture her attention and develop a picture perfect romance?

About The Bachelorette

Amari is a 37 year old biracial black-indian woman with two amazing children, a loving family, a successful business, and a beautiful home in Tartosa. It seems like she has it all, but she longs for just one more thing: a loving partner to share her life with! You can read more details about her likes, dislikes, personality, and backstory here. Since BMB2, she's been focused on her family once again; spending time with them and proudly witnessing her oldest daughter, Prisha, graduate high school and leave for college. Her younger daughter, Maria, has come around on the idea of her mother finally finding love... as long as she also approves of the man in question, of course. And so, Amari has committed to trying the reality show thing just one more time. She's looking for a kind, mature man that respects her and her children, loves to laugh, and has a taste for the finer things in life.

Submission Post Guidelines

Sims must identify as men; anything else re: gender doesn't matter

YA-Adult human sims only (sorry my occult loves)

Maxis match hair only, all other cc can be mm or alpha (my style is maxis mix)

1 everyday outfit, 1 formal, and 1 swimwear at minimum; you can dress for every category if you wish, and you can have as many additional outfits as you want after that if they use vanilla/EA clothing (all packs are fine)

No romantic traits allowed, please include one "negative" trait for fun, cc traits by kuttoe are allowed

Please include likes/dislikes (can be randomized if you like), cc preferences from mods are allowed

Skills are allowed (and encouraged!), if you don't want to give them in game, add them in their description and I'll handle the rest

Please give them a backstory/personality (even if it's a short one!)

Must be okay with me changing some cc if needed to blend them into my game (I won't change their facial features, body shape, etc)

Tag me in your submission posts and use the tag #amaribc so I can find them easier! If a day or so goes by and I don't reblog it, feel free to send me the post through my inbox or DMs.

Submission deadline is December 4th, 2023 (will be extended if needed)

Note: I'll be determining some parts of the challenge through actual gameplay, and some through storytelling/whatever I think will be fun. It won't be 100% random/me solely relying on the game. I learned my lesson with that when the game decided none of the men liked my last bachelor whatsoever... lmfao. Please keep this in mind when submitting!

[bobfloydsbabe]

hi!! I’m kinda new to tumblr and I’m trying to figure out how to be a respectful reader. So I’m just going to dive right in, I’ve added my age to by bio - which I’ve read that you should do from many blogs - but how do I go about supporting works? Recently I’ve just been liking + commenting but I was wondering about the proper rebloging etiquette? (for example do I add tags? and if I do, is it the same ones that the original poster used when they uploaded?)

sorry for the super long ask 😭 have a good day!!!

Hi Avalynn! Welcome to the madness that is tumblr–we’re so happy to have you!

You’re off to a fantastic start by adding your age to your bio! This lets authors know you’re of an age to read fics labeled 18+ and respect the boundaries they have put in place to protect themselves and readers alike.

Liking and commenting are a great first step. That being said, Tumblr doesn’t have an algorithm. What that means is liking and commenting doesn’t get a fic in front of more people, but that’s where reblogging comes in. Reblogging is NOT the same as reposting. Think of it as sharing something you love with other people–by reblogging a fic you’re telling your followers I loved this and you might enjoy it too!

A blank reblog (no tags or comments) is appreciated for the reason stated above. I discourage adding the same tags as the author because it doesn’t serve a purpose. Your reblog will not show up in the general tag, only the original post will. If you want to add tags, I recommend something like "this was so good" or "loved the tension in this" and similar things. You can then add a tag with the character like #bob floyd or #bob floyd fic to make it easier for yourself to find fics you’ve previously enjoyed and reblogged.

The key to a fanfic writer’s heart, however, is reblogging WITH comments. Add your commentary underneath the post! Share the things that made you laugh or cry or feel some type of way. Pick out your favorite quotes or interactions and tell the author why you loved them. You don’t have to be super detailed in every single reblog or comment, but even a little goes a long way. It gives writers, myself included, motivation to keep working on the story.

There are certain types of comments and tags you should not use. These include but are not limited to "more please" or "update soon please" and similar phrases. They’re demanding and make most authors feel unappreciated, like we’re just machines churning out content and not actual humans with lives outside the internet.

If you have other questions, please send an ask or shoot me a DM. Reaching out about this shows you’re willing to learn and want to understand the etiquette, which is a big difference from most new readers around here. Thank you for showing us that there are people out there who know the value of fanfics.

[redahlia-writes]

practical magic. | javier peña x ofc

Abstract: Can love travel back in time and heal a broken heart?

There were some things, after all, that Helena Goode knew for certain:

Always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder. Add pepper to your mashed potatoes. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Plant lavender for luck. Fall in love whenever you can.

Words: 12k

Content: original female character (helena goode); alternative universe, magic, death, ghosts, cursing, mentions of drugs, mentions of an abusive relationship, mildly suggestive language, inspo both from the movie and the book

A/N: it's still halloween, right? i'm sorry for the late late posting but, alas, shit happens. i hope you all enjoy this nevertheless &lt;3

reblogs and feedback are always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too

also on AO3  - masterlist

He will hear my call a mile away. He will whistle my favorite song. He can ride a pony backwards. He can flip pancakes in the air. He'll be marvellously kind. And his favorite shape will be a star. And he’ll have eyes like chocolate, worthy of honesty.

Helena Goode often thought about the petals blowing in the air after her Amas Veritas, her true love. Years had gone by since then—she’d been just a kid, wishing on her true love, her perfect love. Thinking it could not exist—for how could it, when all those women came crying in her aunts’ kitchen in the middle of the night? She’d wished for what she thought could never come to her.

And then there had been Frankie—her love, definitely not perfect, but good, so good. And gone, gone forever, because she had loved him so much. Or so she had thought—maybe that hadn’t been real, maybe there was no such thing as real love, contrary to what her sister said. After all her aunts had played a part in her marriage, and for so long after Frankie’s death she’d tried to believe none of it had been real, so that it would hurt less. So that she would not die of a broken heart.

But, in spite of everything, in spite of her bitterness, in spite of her pain, in spite of the loss, she knew some things had been real. Like the coffee he made her in the morning before leaving for work, like the dinners she fixed before he came back, like the colour they picked to paint the walls of their house; like all the times she’d listened for his whistling as he came back from work; like his kisses, and like their two beautiful daughters; like the laughter during the day and the nights spent awake; like the normal life they’d began living, and the shop they’d dreamed of opening together that now belonged to her only.

Like the State Investigator who stood in front of her at the front door, asking after her sister’s boyfriend. A boyfriend she knew to be dead and buried right there in the backyard. Fuck, she kept thinking, looking at the man in front of her—his eyebrows arched, lips parted under a neatly trimmed moustache, eyes dark as chocolate, and—

“I’m sorry?” she asked, clearing her throat. Dry throat. Sweaty palms. Tongue-tied.

“Is your sister home?” She knew he’d asked that already, and he was being mighty patient about it. “I’d like to speak with her, ma’am,” and then, because she had not moved an inch, “nothing to worry about, really. Just routine questions.”

“Sure,” again Helena cleared her throat, and willed her legs to move. She stepped back, opening the door fully so that she could let him through. “Come on in, I’ll go get her.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, over and over as the man nodded and stepped in, walking past her into the entrance—he smelled of coffee and tobacco, of the desert he came from. Helena closed the door and wiped her hands down the front of her shirt, which she suddenly realised belonged to one of her daughters, with rhinestones adorning the front. Fuck.

“Kitchen is just on your left, I’ll be right back.”

Phoebe Goode was trying her best. Each night she dreamed about James—his eyes, old and clear, staring at her—and each morning she tried to stop carrying him with her, to forget he ever existed, even though she could still see him on her face, in the bruises around her eye, in the split lip on the point of healing—thanks to her sister salve, the one that smelled of roses. She was trying her best, ignoring the awful fact she felt him still, knowing that the deepest relationship with a man of her whole life was with a dead man.

So she wore blue for protection, and had asked Emma, her niece, to lock her cigarettes away, and tried to sit in silence to meditate and push him away, out of her mind, out of her life for good. She was even back at the house, where she’d sworn she would never go back, because it was safer, because of her sister.

Her sister, running up the stairs, out of breath, in a shirt that did not belong to her and a skirt that must’ve been older than her, so dishevelled-looking Phoebe felt her heart drop for a moment, figured the next words out of her mouth would be James, and honestly anything after that could be awful, because he was. Had been.

“There’s a cop. Agent. Someone,” Helena was gasping, her voice an alarmed whisper. “He’s looking for you. And James—but he asked for you.”

“That’s fine, we can manage,” perhaps the meditation was working, because even after hearing his name she could still think without panic closing her throat. “I’ll tell him I haven’t seen him in days, and I came here because we’re done. And if he asks, you’ll just say—” she stopped, frowning at her sister as she shook her head. “What? You’ll just say you’ve never seen him.”

“Here’s the thing,” Helena reached for her chest, still shaking her head, still out of breath. Her head was spinning, and her heart—God, her heart—felt like it was about to explode. “I don’t think I can lie to him.”

“Of course you can,” Phoebe scoffed—but her sister was still having a hard time breathing, her eyes so wide she looked like a deer spooked half to death. “Get over yourself, Lena. It’s fine. You’re just having a panic attack.”

“I don’t think it’s that. I just—the way he looks at you,” she inhaled sharply, a strangled noise scratching her throat and making her sound like a wounded animal, then exhaled, breath stuttering. “I can’t sit there and just lie to him. I know I can’t.”

“You have to, Lena,” but her sister’s eyes darted around the attic, where Phoebe was staying in. She snapped her fingers in front of her face, making her recoil. “Listen to me, you have to. We know nothing, nothing happened.”

Helena and Phoebe had grown up knowing that something was real because they believed in it. That was what gave things power—magic, words, talismans. But what happened when two people believed two different things? How did the universe cope with that? Was James dead and buried in their backyard, under lilacs that were growing wildly out of season (girls in the neighbourhood had begun to whisper that if you kissed the boy you loved beneath the Goode’s lilacs he’d be yours forever, whether he wanted to be or not), or was he back in Laredo, or off somewhere else, left behind by his girlfriend?

Javier Peña was wondering the same as he stood in the odd kitchen of an odd house, there on Magnolia Street.

There were no clocks and no mirrors, in that house, and the floors creaked anywhere but where he stepped; light came pouring in from big, wide windows, showing an even bigger garden with lilacs out of season and more flowers and plants that he could recognise or count—rosemary and lavender, roses and daisies, carrots and an apple tree that reminded him strangely of home, but all seemed like a dream through the thick glass. Each piece of furniture inside seemed dusty, but when he ran his fingertip across the dark wooden surface of this table or that cabinet, no dust came away—no need for polishing anything in there. It smelled of cherrywood. It smelled familiar.

It was a familiarity Javier had not been ready to face—he touched the pocket of his jacket, felt the paper tucked in there crinkle at the touch, and a moment later, as if summoned by thought alone, Helena Goode came back down the stairs, slightly more dishevelled looking than before.

Helena had clearly been in the kitchen when he first knocked. He knew because he could almost see it, like a ghost moving around the stove, stirring a pot that had since been turned off, its content left forgotten on the back burden. He knew because she’d called Hold on at the third rattle of his knuckles across the door, matter-of-factly, as if she’d been expecting him. The mere sound of her voice had thrown him for a loop, the patio under his feet shifting unsteadily, and he could’ve followed the sound there with his eyes closed.

He thought then he could be in trouble—and when she’d opened the door, he’d known he would. Because he’d looked into crystal clear pools of grey and begun drowning, down and down without anything he could do about it. His father had once told him that witches caught you like that: with a look. If you ever meet a woman like that, you run the other way, no matter what, for your own good. There’s no cowardice in safety. But Javier had no intention of running—he’d rather drown, over and over, if it meant she looked at him like that a little longer.

She stood at the end of the stairs, perfectly still, with that ridiculous shirt with rhinestones across her chest and her dark hair down past her shoulder, brushing the sliver of uncovered skin at her waist. She was beautiful, Javier thought, so ridiculously beautiful he got a lump in his throat just looking at her. For a moment, before her Can I help you? at the door, he’d almost forgotten the reason he was there. He almost forgot it again when he saw her shake her head at the end of the stairs, and had to touch the letter tucked next to his heart again.

“Can I get you anything?” her voice sounded different as she strode into the kitchen. “My sister will be right down. Coffee?” she wasn’t looking at him, and Javier wished she’d just stop and turn to face him, if only to forget himself again in her eyes.

But Helena wouldn’t turn. She wouldn’t look at him. She woldn’t look at his face, and his neatly trimmed moustache, and his lovely dark eyes. She wouldn’t look at the lines on his face he was way too young to have, and the loneliness embedded in each of them she knew could be found in the silver strands of her hair, too. Helena figured he was not a man who hid things, just like he was not hiding the fact he was looking at her—she could feel his eyes burning on the back of her head, and she couldn’t believe the way he was staring at her. Looking at her like that.

It was how dark his eyes were, the problem. The way he could make someone—her—feel seen from the inside out.

“Coffee’s fine,” he said, forcing his gaze away. He looked outside, where in the distance, still filtered like a dream, he could see clouds gathering, a distant storm that seemed to have followed him there. Javier’s father had taught him to predict exactly when a storm would hit just by the location of lightning, so that he could prepare the ranch in time to brace for it.

He’d never been very good at it. He thought that lightning, like love, was never ruled by logic. Accidents happened, and they always would.

He looked at Helena again, her back still to him—she was watching the coffee brew, her arms crossed, fingers tapping nervously against her elbow. Javier looked at her and thought she was familiar to him—he’d thought that ever since getting her letter, the one tucked next to his heart, but to see her there in front of him, flesh and bones and long hair and clear eyes, really settled it for him.

He’d heard about it happening to other men—his friend Steve being one of them. Going about their business one minute and suddenly they found themselves without hope. They fell in love so hard they never got up off their knees again.

He’d never thought it would happen to him. Javier was all business—he always had been. It was his need to figure out the why of things, of people. Money, love, fury—those were the motivations he found usually, in his line of work. James Hawkins fell in the money category, of that he was sure, with perhaps a sprinkle of fury in the shape of his ring marked on the bodies.

Javier had been looking for that ring at Hawkins’ place—he’d seen it in pictures, read it in descriptions, remembered it from the few times his path had trailed along Hawkins’, because Laredo wasn’t that big of a place, and faces grew familiar over time—when the letter had arrived.

Crumpled and torn in one corner, the flap already opened, Javier had looked at it and thought he should’ve taken it directly to the office. But an open letter was hard to resist, even for someone like Javier, who had resisted a whole lot in his life. But that letter was something else, something tempting, and he gave into it.

He never regretted it.

He had just sat there, on the patio of the house of the man he was looking for, and read the letter Helena Goode had written to her sister. When he was done, he’d read it again. And again. And twice more midair, and then while he had his lunch, and once more when he’d settled in his hotel room. Even when the letter was folded back into its envelope and stored in the pocket of his jacket, the words came back to haunt him—whole sentences written by Helena forming in his mind.

Javier had been close to people, and while he didn’t have that many friends he was content—he’d even almost gotten married after high school, although that’s a topic no one ever brought up, not even himself. But he’d never once felt like he’d known anyone the way he felt he knew the woman who had written that letter. It felt like someone had ripped a piece of his soul out of him and formed into words. Words he was so taken by he wouldn’t have heard, seen, or felt a thing as long as he was reading them.

I have this dream of being whole. Of not going to sleep each night, wanting. But still, sometimes, when the wind is warm, or the crickets sing, I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for. I just want someone to love me. I want to be seen.

Javier wanted to tell her that he saw her. Right there in front of him, and even when she was not there, when he had not the faintest clue what she looked like, he saw her. He saw her standing, moving the coffee pot from the fire. He saw her pouring the coffee in three mismatched cups. He saw her hands shaking as she did so.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and she recoiled as if startled by his voice.

“I think I’m going to sit down,” Helena said, casually, as if she didn’t seem about to collapse.

Still she brought two of the cups over, almost spilling the contents of one, and collapsed onto the chair opposite Javi with a shuddering sigh, her cheeks flushed, her chest fluttering. She wondered if drinking coffee would be a good idea at that moment, still feeling as if her heart might explode, but needed something to keep herself busy, so she brought the cup to her mouth and gulped down the scalding drink, burning the roof of her mouth and her lips.

“Why are you here?” she asked then, bitterness coating her tongue. She was used to sugar in her coffee, most times a dash of milk. “I mean, I understood what you told me—about Phoebe’s boyfriend—but why here?”

She saw the man hesitate—he did not strike her as someone who hesitated in anything, but he was pondering her words and how to best respond to her, his lips shifting to draw in a breath, and then exhale. He reached for his jacket—he still hadn’t taken that off, and with the movement it hugged his shoulders tight, seams pulling uncomfortably—and, from one of the inner pockets, took a piece of paper that he handed to her.

“I mailed that to my sister ages ago,” Helena recognised it immediately—that letter she was so grateful had never reached Phoebe, but also wished it had a little earlier, so she wouldn’t be in that mess. There’s a halo around the moon tonight. I think trouble is coming. I wish you’d get out of there. Come back home. Alone. “You opened it,” she added then, a little baffled.

He hadn’t just opened it. He’d read it. The paper consumed from being folded over and over again, each line marked deeper where it bent, words slightly smudged as if someone had run their fingers over each and every of it.

“It was opened already,” he retorted, justifying. “It must have gotten lost at the post office.”

“But you read it,” the cup was burning her palm, the letter her other hand, her face was burning too under his gaze.

“Maybe a thousand times,” Javier admitted, his voice dropping.

“It was a very personal letter,” she whispered too, feeling the tightness inside her throat and belly and chest grow, and grow, and grow until it was choking her. That had to be what a heart attack felt like. Perhaps she was about to end up on the floor unconscious.

“I know,” the man said, and at last she looked at him.

He saw her but, Javier knew, she saw him too. She could’ve seen how Javier wasn’t sure how far he’d go to cover for someone—he’d never been in that position before, and he despised the way it felt. But he was there, sitting in her kitchen, drinking her coffee, a total stranger on a humid day, wondering if he was going to look the other way because of her. She could see all that—or at least, she hoped.

And then Phoebe came down. Noisy steps down the stairs, announcing her presence to the entire world—she always had that about her, always managed to bring the attention to her, with her lovely strawberry-blonde hair and her long lashes and full lips. Even with the bruises, even with the wounds, even with her fear embedded so deeply into her skin it was painful, Phoebe was beautiful.

Still, Javier focused on Helena, and it wasn’t until her sister stood at her side that he caught a glimpse of her. Night and day, that’s what the aunts called them. He didn’t know, but he would’ve agreed—so starkly different, yet seemingly in tune with each other.

“As I’ve said your sister, I won’t take up much of your time,” Javier cleared his throat, offered his hand to Phoebe as he stood. He missed the feeling of his letter against his body, but Helena was clutching it tight, pressing it against her stomach. “It’s just a couple of questions, routine checks.”

“Of course—agent, is it?” Phoebe’s voice was soft where Helena’s was strong. She took up space just by standing, her arms folded in front of her as she held the third cup that had been on the counter.

“Yes, ma’am—Agent Peña.” Only then did she take his hand, a delicate shake before turning his palm up towards her face, peering down with an interested hum.

“You’ve come a long way just for a couple of routine questions, Agent Peña.” Her thumb ran along one of the lines on his palm, tracing it with a feather-like touch. Her brows knitted for a moment, confusion locking on her features (eyes darting towards her sister) before she shook herself. “I see here it’ll be worth the trip,” she mused, tapping his palm.

“Right.” Again he cleared his throat, and pulled his hand back. “When was the last time you saw James Hawkins?”

“Ah, a man of action,” Phoebe scoffed lightly, then shrugged. “Couple of weeks, just before I came here. It just wasn’t working anymore.”

“Is he responsible for that?” he asked, gesturing towards her face, the bruises.

“As I’ve said, it wasn’t working anymore,” she tipped her chin up, leaned with her hip against Helena’s chair. “I have no idea where he might be. If a man hits me, he only does it once,” Helena’s breath hitched, her grip on both the cup and letter tightening.

“What about the car? The one with the Texas plate—it’s registered in his name,” Javier thought he might as well reveal all his cards from the beginning. Neither sister was stupid, but still Phoebe was lying—he knew she was. He had seen that look before, countless times: people who are guilty of something think they can hide it by not looking at you. Or looking at you too much.

Helena wasn’t looking at him anymore—again. Phoebe was staring him down. But Helena wasn’t looking at him, because she knew, she was certain, that could not lie to the man. She feared her eyes would betray her too, like her heart was doing, like she imagined her words would if she were to say anything more.

“I took it when I ran,” Phoebe said, sighing. “And I know that’s wrong, so you may take it right away—I just needed a way out. That was the fastest.”

She was good, Javier managed to think in that haze-like feeling he’d found himself in since he’d walked into the house. Since he’d seen Helena. Her eyes.

“And you have not heard from him since?” Phoebe shook her head, sipping on her coffee and grimacing—too bitter, too strong. But it helped keep her mind away from the times she had heard from James—in her dreams, nightmares, really; or when she was distracted, and his voice crept into her head; or when she looked in the mirror and his reflection stared back.

“I have not,” she smacked her lips, the taste of the coffee lingering on the tip of her tongue.

“Alright, well,” Javier picked his cup and drank most of the coffee that remained—he liked it that way, black and strong, it reminded him of his father—then went to the sink to rinse the cup. Helena watched him while his back was turned, and almost smiled at the way he let the water slosh from side to side enough to get any residue off before settling it upside down. “If anything comes to mind, I’ll be around a couple of days longer—I’m staying at the Hide-A-Way Motel.”

“Really?” was the first thing Helena said in what felt like ages. Javier turned around—he was just stalling then. He wanted to remain there, with her. He wanted to keep on looking into Helena’s eyes and drown, drown, drown for days. He saw nothing else but her eyes.

“Lady at the car rental desk suggested it—it isn’t half bad,” he shrugged, and smoothed his jacket down. He felt the absence of the letter when he ran his hand across his chest, and the paper did not crinkle under his touch. Helena curled her fingers around her words. “Nice area.”

“It is,” she should know—her shop was one street away from the motel. She’d picked the area with Frankie because of how nice it was, close enough to the park it gave the impression of being around nature, but not so far from town that nobody would walk by the shop.

Phoebe watched the agent and her sister look at each other and frowned—for a moment, what she’d seen on Peña’s palm flashed before her eyes again. A new beginning, a line cut through by something, someone he could not escape. It had been written on his skin since the beginning. Some fates were just guaranteed.

“If I happen to remember anything else, I’ll come around,” Phoebe said, cutting through the crackle of energy that passed from one to the other. It was as if she’d woken them up from a dream, a dream made of only looks and silence. “You can have the car taken away.”

“Great,” he cleared his throat, and forced himself to back away. He knew that if he lingered any longer, he’d never want to leave. It was hard enough already. “Thanks.”

Helena felt like she was losing her mind.

The night before, a ring had appeared around the moon. A halo around the moon was always a sign of disruption—but it was a double ring, all tangled up, anything could happen. Helena didn’t like the thought, and she hadn’t been able to sleep all night.

The sparrow that used to fly each midsummer’s eve into the house on Magnolia Street had come back, out of season, round and round the dining room—her daughters had counted each circle: three. Three meant trouble, it always had. She’d chased it out with her sister, both of them on edge.

And it rained. All night and through the morning, one of her daughters standing by the window looking at the lilacs being hit by drop after drop, tapping her fingers nervously. Emma was looking at the man in their backyard, who stared back at them like from a vision, a nightmare rather than a dream. She was hoping he would go away, but the bad weather did not bother him—he seemed to relish in the black skies and the wild wind, and the rain passed through him. Emma thought—she knew—it was his fault that things were going amiss in the house, even though she didn’t know the extent of it: pipes rusting and the tile floor of the basement turning to dust, nothing in the refrigerator would stay fresh.

Both sets of sisters fought, loud and mean and just like he wanted them to. Emma would’ve liked them all to stop. Helena thought of chopping the lilacs all night long, but had to go to work.

And then there was Javier. Agent Peña, who walked around town and talked to everyone and was always there when she turned around from the counter. Javier, with a cigarette hanging from his lips at every street corner. Always there, always there, always there.

“Fuck!” Helena exclaimed, when the jar she was trying to place on the shelf fell and shattered on the ground, shards of glass flying around her ankles and the contents—curled dried leaves—spilling across the clean floor. “God, give me a break.”

“Are you okay, Lena?” a voice called from the other side of the shop. Helena didn’t have many friends—it came with the Goode name, being shunned away. But Crystal was one of the few who did not shy away, besides being a good employee. “Let me help you.”

“It’s alright, I just haven’t been sleeping well,” she went to gather the glass and leaves, both crunching as she moved the broom across them. “But could you put the kettle on? Maybe some tea will do me good,” even though she craved coffee desperately.

She’d craved coffee ever since she’d met with the agent. Black and bitter. She could smell it in the air around her, no matter which room she walked in, or which street—along with tobacco and more. She’d never smoked a cigarette in her life but now felt her fingers itch as if reaching for one.

Crystal obliged without question—she’d learned early on that many things around Helena Goode just did not make sense, and there was no point in prying. It had been that way since they were children. Her mother liked the Goode aunts, said that it was not their fault for more than two hundred years their family had been blamed for everything that went wrong in town.

Some people are just different. Most people are just stupid to be afraid of it.

She remembered their classmates being terrified of the day a bunch of cats followed Helena to school—witchery, they called it. A witch and her familiars. Nasty, nasty creatures, the whole lot of them. But Crystal remembered Helena being kind and poised, she remembered her balanced lunches, and the way she always looked out for her sister. She still did. Why people would think Helena and Phoebe had any evil in them escaped her.

Goode women ignored convention; they were headstrong and willful, and meant to be that way.

“Thank you, Crystal,” Helena said from the kitchenette, throwing away the spoiled merchandise..

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go home? I can look after the shop,” but even as she asked, Helena was shaking her head, lips trembling with her deep inhale. “Lena, did something happen?”

“It’s not—” a bell. The shop’s bell. Helena looked up from her mug, the smell of lavender easing her headache a little, and then turned. “I’ll get it.”

He was everywhere, always there, always there, in her shop, too. Helena stood frozen next to the counter and looked at the agent who was looking around—a feeble attempt at not immediately turning towards her, not falling into her eyes right away.

“Yes?” she managed to ask, her throat dry once again. Just by his mere presence.

“I’m afraid I forgot to bring enough toothpaste,” Javier lied. He’d thrown an almost full tube in the bin just that morning—still wasn’t sure why. Maybe because so many people had told him about Helena’s shop, just around the corner. How the woman was the way she was, but her products were amazing.

“You could’ve gone to the market,” she said, but placed her mug down and moved to the shelf anyway. Once she wasn’t looking at him, she managed to exhale again, but still his eyes burned on the back of her head, and she suddenly felt conscious of the fact she probably had forgotten to brush her hair in the morning.

“Yes,” he retorted, and didn’t add anything else. He knew he could’ve, but he didn’t want to. And he could’ve told her it was because so many people had recommended her stuff, or because the shop was closer to his motel. But he didn’t.

“Any allergies?” she asked, moving the stool closer to the shelf.

“No, ma’am.” She paused, one foot up the step as she bit her tongue—just a moment, then she climbed and grabbed a jar, the label scribbled so hurriedly it was unreadable, the dark paste inside a stark contrast with the white paper.

“Charcoal—whitens the teeth,” she moved back down, the counter between them as she handed the product to him—her eyes flickered towards the cigarette that he’d tucked over his ear, shaking her head lightly. “Nasty habit,” she muttered, lowering her gaze.

“I’m aware,” Javier chuckled—as he took the jar, he grazed her fingers. Helena pulled back as if she’d been burned, fingertips curling into her palm and pressing harshly. “Does this stuff actually work?” he cleared his throat, turning it in his palm to glance at the label again.

He knew her handwriting. He could read it like the back of his hand. I have this dream of being whole.

“It does,” Crystal called as she walked in from the kitchenette, and Helena leaned over the counter and reached for her mug—anything to keep her hands busy. “See for yourself. On the house.”

“He can’t accept it on the house, Crystal,” she said, moving back. “There’s an investigation ongoing—isn’t that right?” it looked as if she might turn to him while she addressed him, but didn’t. Again.

“That’s right,” Javier cleared his throat, shuffling a little. He was so close to the counter he could feel the edge of it dig into his stomach, and forced himself to look at the other woman. “But are you giving me your word? That it works.”

He was a charmer. Helena knew already—Crystal was just finding out. She wanted to ask what investigation Helena was talking about, what was happening at the house on Magnolia Street that she desperately did not want to go back, and what was happening with the agent so desperately trying to meet her eyes.

“Cross my heart,” she said instead, because she knew this would be another inexplicable moment. She’d made her peace with it. “Swear to God, this woman is a magician. Let me ring you up.”

Helena hid her face with the mug, the dwindling steam turning her cheeks a soft shade of red. At the same time, Javier scoffed lightly.

“Right,” he muttered, reaching for his wallet. “Heard that one before. Thanks.”

It took a moment for Helena to register his words—she was trying so hard to not hear him, to not focus on him, that she didn’t understand what he was saying until he was out of the door, an echo of the bell ringing in her mind.

“Wait, what?” she placed the mug down, looking up at his back behind the glass. “Hold on.”

She shouldn’t have gone after him. She should’ve known better. Helena spent her whole life being vigilant, she spent her whole life relying on logic and common sense, she’d taken care of everything from the moment her parents had died, and then again when Frankie had died—she thought about everything.

She had to, because otherwise how would her kids have made it to fourteen and fifteen?

She had to, because if she stopped thinking about everything, what exactly was she left with? Her thoughts and worries are the only reason she continued to exist, of that she was certain.

Never look back, never change direction, that’s what she had to tell herself. Don’t think about being alone in the dark, or storms or lightning and thunder, or the true love you won’t ever have. Life, she knew, was brushing her teeth and making breakfast for her kids and not letting her mind wander.

But that was a lie—from the beginning Helena had been lying to herself, telling herself she could handle anything: her parents dying, her sister relying on her, her aunts’ reputation, Frankie, Frankie’s death, the spell, the year where everything went grey, her children, and now this. She’d grown tired—she didn’t want to lie anymore. One more lie and she’d be lost. One more lie and she’d never find her way back through the woods.

And it’s all because of him.

“What did you mean?” she stopped abruptly when he did, taking a step back when he turned to look at her. She tugged her cardigan close, the wind whipping the ends around along with her hair, and tipped her chin up with her arms crossed, finally, finally looking back at him. “Heard that one before?” she echoed. “Is that why you were at my shop?”

“No,” he shook his head. “It’s because I needed toothpaste, and I’m just around the corner,” she scoffed lightly, shuffling her feet. “But actually, yes, I heard a bunch of stuff that doesn’t make sense at all, so I’d like to understand.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s my job,” he retorted. “Because, seriously, I have heard it all. A family of witches, a curse, your own husband—”

“Don’t,” she snapped, and for a moment Javier recoiled, saw the truth in the words of all the people who had warned him off Helena Goode. With her hair dancing in the wind, and her cheeks still red, and her eyes oh-so-clear, like a storm incoming, he understood. “Do not bring Frankie into this.”

“Hard not to, when it’s everything this town talks about,” he took a step forward, her whole body seizing up. “Do you have any idea how strange this all sounds to me? People tell me you’re here cooking up placenta bars, that you’re into devil worship.”

“You think I don’t know that?” her voice was lower, and pulled him closer. “All my life, this town—I know what they say about me, I know what everybody thinks.” She wanted to move away—she wanted to lean in. She remained still. “All my life I wanted nothing more than to be seen as normal, but that’s just not the way it is. I don’t have a ranch house or a white picket fence, I don’t have a husband that’s alive anymore, I don’t have—” she cut herself off, unsure as to why she was so ready to pour her heart out to a stranger in the middle of the street. “I don’t see how that’s my fault.”

“I never said it was,” Javier spoke softly, a gentleness that felt foreign on his tongue but rolled off easily when he looked at her.

“Then why are you here?” her chin was still up, but she was looking down at her nose, careful to avoid his gaze—it made him believe that she, too, felt that tug in the pit of her stomach. She was just better at controlling it.

Your letter, he almost said. You.

“James Hawkins,” he replied instead. “A guy like that doesn’t simply vanish.”

“And would that be such a big loss?” she scoffed, tightening her arms around herself. “A guy like that—wouldn’t it be so much better if he did just vanish?”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, and felt his hands move before he could control himself. “But I made a vow, and I have a job—” his fingertips grazed her arm, and at that she pulled back.

“As do I,” one hand moved to the point he’d brushed, holding the spot as if it hurt, tight against her chest. “So unless you have something you want to ask me, Agent Peña, I’d rather get back to it.”

“Are you or your sister hiding James Hawkins?”

“He’s not here, no.”

“Did you or your sister kill James Hawkins?” he asked, and her eyebrows arched.

“Oh, yeah. Couple of times,” Javier sighed, and forced himself back, his hand now itching for his cigarette. “Is that all?” he put it between his lips, ignoring the frown forming on her brow.

“Yeah, sure,” he didn’t light it up just yet, but reached for the lighter nevertheless—he missed the letter in his pocket whenever he touched it. “Bye, Helena.”

He watched her go back inside the shop with her shoulders pulled back tight, steps unsteady, and only when the door was closed, the echo of the bell ringing in his ears, did he light up the cigarette.

She watched him go away from inside the shop, with his steps matching the thundering of her heart.

“What is wrong with you?” Phoebe watched her sister kneel on the ground, pruning shears in hand and purple flowers all around her, on her. “What are you doing?”

“I’m tired of seeing these every time I look out of the window,” her breath was short—the flowers seemed endless, she cut and cut and cut and still they were there. “And the smell—I hate it. I can’t do it anymore.”

“Lena—Lena! It’s just flowers!” although Phoebe knew it was not entirely true. Mostly, she ignored the lilacs, and everything that was underneath it. Especially what was underneath it. “Stop it, before you hurt yourself.”

“Oh, now you’re thinking about that?” Helena dropped the shears and stood, the soil on her jeans already a stain she wouldn’t manage to remove. “Now that there’s a cop after us? Now you think I might hurt myself?”

“So what? We stick to our story. No body, no crime,” she gestured towards the lilacs. “There is not a single reason why he should think we’ve done something, unless you give him one.”

“But we did, Phoebe. You understand that, don’t you?” she hissed, walking up to her sister. “We fucked up, and somehow I’m still the one who’s cleaning up your messes,” Phoebe’s eyes widened, mouth set in a thin line. “I’m sick of this.”

“I never asked you to, I never—”

“Enough lies, Pheebs. Aren’t you tired?” Helena smelled like the lilacs, and her headache was back, stronger and stronger as the storm approached from the horizon. “I know I am. I’m so tired of lying.”

“What are you talking about?” Phoebe had lowered her voice, and was looking at her sister as if she could not recognise her. “Lena—you can’t do that,” even as she said it, Helena walked past her, brushing her hands down the front of her jeans. “You can’t go to him,” she said, following her. “We’ll both be sitting in jail if you do. What about the girls? Why are you even thinking about it now?”

Helena wasn’t sure why. She knew she’d woken up smelling cigarettes and coffee again, and the lilacs, and the nightmare still clinging to her eyelids, making her feel unrested as she had for the past days. Weeks. She wasn’t sure anymore. All she knew is that her throat hurt from all the lies she’d told Javier, and she wanted to come clean, to tell all—she wanted someone to listen to what she had to say and really hear her, the way no one ever had before. So she’d gone to work, and back home to cut the flowers, and as sundown approached she would go out for Javier.

“Don’t tell me about the girls now, when I spent half my life thinking only about them,” she said loudly, marching in and out of room after room of the house, grabbing things she wasn’t even sure she needed. “And you? You only ever thought about yourself. You left me here. You lived your life. And you dragged me back in just to save your ass.”

“Oh, that’s it, isn’t it?” Phoebe screamed too, from the middle of the house, following the noises of her sister as she stomped around. “I lived my life and you hate me for it!”

“I don’t hate you, Phoebe.”

“No, no, sure—you’re unbelievable. You spent all your life trying to be normal and fit in, but you never will! You know we’re different, and so are your girls,” Helena stopped abruptly to look at her.

“That’s twice now—you leave them out of this,” she said with a scowl so similar to that of their mother’s, if only either of them could remember her.

“All my life I’ve wished I had half your talent—you’re wasting yourself, Lena,” Phoebe cried, and for a moment she sounded just like the little girl who had just gotten to the aunts’ house. “And now you—what? You’re gonna turn yourself in? Or get down on your knees and beg for mercy?”

“If I’ll have to, yes,” Helena said without a second thought, fixing her sister with a look. “I’m done.”

They both measured themselves harshly, always had, as if they had never been anything but those two plain little girls, waiting at the airport for someone to claim them.

If you go against what you believe in, you’re nothing. That was another thing his father liked to say—and Javier knew he was right. So he was going to stick to his plan: fly back home and give up the case to the poor bastard who was supposed to get it from the beginning, had it not been for the letter. He was going to go back to work as usual, forget about the whole ordeal, forget about grey eyes and dark hair and his own heart.

Heart, heart, heart beating to the sound of the knocking on his door, that for a moment he’d thought to be rain pattering on the ground and the roof, such the strength of the storm was. But he heard it, and when he opened the door, Helena was there, shivering and looking up at him.

“You want a confession?”

In his line of work, Javier had been trained to notice things, but he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Part of the reason was that he’d been imagining Helena everywhere he went. So maybe it was just an illusion, a desire of his heart turned into a vision.

“What?” he stepped aside and, water falling from her hair, Helena walked in, trailing mud behind.

“You want a confession, don’t you? It’s why you’re still here,” she was shaking, arms crossed over her chest with wet clothes clinging to her. “We killed James. Technically, I killed James. I used belladonna.”

“I know,” Helena frowned, moved the hair out of her face with trembling hands.

“You know?” she sniffled, part from the cold part from the smell attacking her nostrils—coffee and tobacco and, surprisingly, food.

“I found some in the car—saw the same thing in your shop and had it analyzed,” he closed the door, careful to not turn the lock, leaving her a way out as he moved back towards the kitchenette. “His ring was in there, too. There was blood on it. Have you had any dinner?”

“I—what is this, some sort of joke?” she asked, slightly out of breath, and stepped in his direction. Javier scoffed, his back to her as he shook his head a little.

“Far from it,” he muttered, turning the stove off. Still, he didn’t move to look at her—if he did, he wouldn’t be able to say what he had to. He could feel her shiver, just a few steps from him, and it took everything in him to not reach over and grab her and hold her close. “But I have no idea what to do from here. I can’t say that I’m sorry Hawkins is gone, and I can’t—”

“Javier—” he exhaled—it was the first time she said his name, and he gripped the counter with both hands as he closed his eyes. Through the rain, and the soil, and the smoke in his room, he could smell lilacs and that same scent that had clung to the letter, which had bled onto his fingers each time he reread it.

“I was gonna turn over the case,” she held her breath at his words—he heard the light hiccup as her lips sealed, and slowly turned, though his gaze remained lowered. “I can’t say I’m impartial anymore—I can pretend, but I’m not. I no longer can tell what’s right and what’s wrong and you—you came here, and what did you think would happen?”

“I don’t know,” her voice was small, and Javier knew she was looking at him—the roles had switched, he could feel her gaze burning across his skin. “That’s the thing, I don’t know. I’m tired—of lying, of hiding, of those fucking flowers,” she sniffled, and from the corner of his eyes he could see her rubbing her arms. “The thing is, I’m pretty sure it’s because of you, and I can’t stand it—because I know I’ll get hurt, and my sister will get hurt, and my children, too.”

“Then why,” his voice had dropped slightly, and he took one more step forward, looking up at last—they were standing so close now, heat radiating off of him and clinging to her chilling bones, “are you here, Helena?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered, her hands seeking him before she could even realise. “Maybe this,” her letter was almost destroyed, wet and crumpled as she held it between them.

Fear or loneliness—she wasn’t sure she could distinguish them anymore. When the deathwatch beetle had started ticking for Frankie, then she’d been afraid. When she’d stopped speaking and seeing colours for a year, and her children had been by themselves, then she’d been afraid. When she was young, and she sneaked down the stairs with her sister to see what the aunts where up to, then she’d been afraid. In that moment, she was terrified.

And lonely. She’d never felt more alone or lonely before in her life. She wished she could’ve believed in love’s salvation, but truth was desire had been ruined for her. She wished she’d never spied on the aunts’ and seen their customers crying and begging and making fools of themselves. She’d become love-resistant because of that and, with her sister, sitting on the roof of the house, they’d wished to look up at the stars and not be afraid of it.

But, just like trouble, love came in unannounced and took over before she’d had a chance to reconsider or even think about it—Frankie first, and now—

Amas Veritas—she thought about it again, looking into Javier’s dark eyes. He will hear my call a mile away—she’d been just a child, so stupid, thinking that love was a toy, something easy and sweet, to play with. But real love, she’d learned, she was learning, was dangerous, it got you from inside and held on tight, and if you didn’t let go fast enough you might be willing to do anything for its sake.

She’d learned that with Frankie, and now—

“Oh, don’t,” she whispered when Javier’s hand brushed along her arms, foregoing the letter—and moved closer to him, pulled by gravity, by forces she couldn’t begin to control. “Javi—”

He believed he was going to cry—because she was saying his name again, soft and gentle and like she’d known it all her life, and his hands were tracing a path up her arms like he knew exactly the shape of her, and trying to learn it by memory all over again.

He wasn’t even sure that was not the case. Perhaps a part of him knew her already, always had.

He had stumbled into love, of that he was certain, and was stuck there. Javier was used to not getting what he wanted, he’d learned to deal with it, but with Helena in front of him he couldn’t help but wonder if that had only been because he’d never wanted anything too badly. He did now.

“I just do this,” he said, voice sad and deep and causing the hair at the nape of her neck to stand on edge as he leaned closer, towards the hand she was offering to him like in prayer, and she brushed his cheek as he sighed. “Pay no attention,” he said, but she did. How could she not?

He was there, and she shifted toward him as if to brush her hand along his face, but instead ended up with her arms looped around his neck, his own wrapped around her, holding her closer.

And Helena was terrified, because suddenly she wanted whatever he was promising her, with his lips so close and words so soft she told herself don’t listen, but she couldn’t, because whispers of I’ve been looking for you forever inched their way underneath her skin, warmed by his hands. She wanted to get lost—she, who couldn’t function without directions, needed it. Him.

Everything she did those days was so unlike her usual self that when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window behind Javier’s shoulder, she couldn’t recognise herself. Looking back at her was a woman who could’ve fallen in love if she’d let herself, a woman who didn’t stop, not even when Javier moved her hair from her neck, the wet locks sending a shiver down her spine that only intensified as the man bowed his head a pressed his mouth to the hollow of her throat.

What good would it do her to get involved with someone like him? She wondered—because the last time she did, she loved so much she got hurt to the point a part of her had forever vanished. Or so she had thought, because with Javier’s lips brushing her skin, the light tickle from his moustache making her eyelids droop, she could’ve believed something had come back alive behind her ribs. She suddenly felt like she had to press a hand down against her chest to make sure her heart wouldn’t escape her body.

“Helena—” he whispered, his arms tight around her—the droplets of rain clung to his lips, the taste of her flooding his senses, overpowering everything else. She sighed again, a shudder running down her spine, unsure if it was from his voice or the cold settling in her bones.

Although, if she were to be honest with herself, she’d say she wasn’t cold. She was burning, really, Javier’s body so close she could memorise it by touch alone.

“Maybe I’m letting you do this so you’ll stop the investigation, even with my confession,” she said, his head straightening—his nose brushed along her jaw, her cheek, and her eyes remained closed. “Have you thought about that? Maybe I’m so desperate I’d fuck anyone, including you.”

There was a sour taste in her mouth with each cruel word, but she didn’t care—she forced herself to open her eyes, she knew she needed to see the wounded look on his face with each bitter word. She needed to stop it—whatever it was—before she no longer had the option to. Before the freedom she had longed for forever slipped through her fingers, and she was trapped again in pain, just like the women who used to come at the aunts’ back door.

“Helena,” Javier said again, mournful, and she could almost taste her own name falling from his lips. The tobacco, too. Her mouth parted on instinct, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw down towards her chin, brushing her bottom lip. “You’re not like that.”

“Really?” she scoffed lightly, the noise remaining trapped in her throat when she lifted her gaze to his eyes. “You don’t know me. You just think you do.”

“That’s right,” he nodded, and the tip of his nose brushed hers—one tilt of his chin, one tip of her head, and the agony would be over for both of them. But for the moment they were just suspended in time. “I think I do. I do.”

“Let go,” she told Javier, and it sounded almost like a plea. “Let go of me.”

He did. He would’ve done anything she asked of him. Let go, hold tighter, kneel, jump into a fire. All of it. So he let go of her, even if it hurt, both of them taking one step back—her arms immediately wrapped around her middle (an attempt to trap his warmth close to her skin), his hands tingling with the loss of her.

“Helena—” he said once more, her name more and more familiar on his tongue.

“You have your confession, and you have your proof,” each word felt like shreds of glass in her throat, while she looked away forcefully—in the window, her reflection was almost familiar again, still a little wild, but recognisable. “It’s up to you. You know where to find me, once you make a decision.”

“I do,” he repeated, somewhat stunned, his mind reeling. She took one step to the side, heading for the door. “It’s still pouring outside.”

“I know,” she only said, and went nevertheless.

For hours her perfume remained in the room, clinging to him for so long he didn’t even notice the smell of his burned dinner. So long the letter had dried on the floor where it had slipped, enough for him to reread it, again and again until he’d managed to fall asleep.

Helena couldn’t stop thinking about Javier. From the moment she’d walked out of the motel room, he had been all she could think about—on the drive home through the storm, in the warm bath to wash the cold away, doing the dishes, in bed, unable to sleep, dreaming about him while wide awake and in the few hours she’d managed to close her eyes, too. Haunted, just like her sister.

She dreamed of the desert, an apple tree in a yard that wasn’t hers and bloomed without water, and horses that ate apples from that tree and ran faster than all the others, and a man who was taking a bite from a pie she’d made, bound to be hers for life. She’d woken up smelling apple pie and cinnamon, coffee and tobacco.

So it was no surprise when Javier showed up that same morning. She almost heard him coming. Yet she couldn’t face him right away, so she hid inside, behind her sister, still skittish, behind her daughters, still confused, behind the pretence of making breakfast.

“He’s staying!” Sophia, the eldest of her daughters, announced, running from the garden to somewhere past the living room—Helena sighed, eyes closing. “Aunt Pheebs! He says he’s staying!”

Helena wondered if, without the feeling of Javier’s hands still on her, she would’ve wondered why Phoebe would care whether or not the man investigating them was staying at their place for breakfast. She wasn’t even sure whether she was glad he was staying or just nauseated.

“Can I help?” Emma, much quieter than her sister, stepped at her mother’s side and pointed at the stove, a half-burned pancake smoking on the pan. Helena threw the failed attempt away and nodded, forcing a smile onto her face—she knew the man was in the room with them, she could feel him watching the two of them from the entrance, could see him in her mind as he leaned against the doorway.

“Be careful,” she murmured, taking one step aside, then another, and more, her own steps echoed by Javier’s. They met halfway across the kitchen, her still not looking at him while his eyes never once left her.

“’Morning,” he hummed, shoulders brushing—Helena moved aside, ignoring the sharp pain in her hip when she bumped into the table.

“Good morning,” she cleared her throat, brushing her hands down the front of her shirt—and then lowered her voice. “Why are you here?”

“You told me I knew where to find you once I’d made my decision,” he replied, matching her tone.

“And have you?” her hands began going numb as she clenched them in fists at her sides. She could still feel Javier looking at her.

“I’m going back to Laredo,” her gaze snapped in his direction, so fast the whole room spun as she inhaled sharply, holding her breath. “I thought you should have this. After all, it belongs to you.”

It took her a moment to manage to focus on the paper he was handing her—her letter, now ruined, a half-destroyed piece of paper she’d poured her heart over, more than once. When she picked it up, their fingers brushed just like the first time, and Helena almost cried out in pain.

“Now, something smells like it’s burning,” she could see the strain in his neck as he turned away from her, looking at Emma. One more moment and then he walked ahead. “Need a hand?”

“I was trying to flip it,” Emma mumbled, a pout forming on her lips that made her look more like her mother. Javier chuckled, settling at her side. “Do you know how?” she asked suddenly, a hopeful note in her voice Helena hadn’t heard in a while. Her chest constricted, watching the man smirk and roll up his sleeves.

“I absolutely know how to,” he nodded with a theatrical gesture. “Step aside and observe.”

Amas Veritas, dancing in Helena’s head as she watched Javier, fitting so well in her kitchen, flip pancakes in the air and making the young girl laugh. It had been a while since Emma had laughed like that, and for a moment she was her soft-voiced and shy 14-year-old again, who liked to look at the stars and sleep with her head on Helena’s lap.

But then her shoulders tensed, her whole position shifting, taking one step away from Javier to turn towards her mother, even though her eyes went past her. Helena knew, without having to turn right away, that something was terribly wrong.

“Mom,” Sophia came running in, breathless, and immediately clung to her arm, tugging harshly. “Something’s wrong, mom,” the panic in her voice settled in Helena’s bones, mixing with her own, and she was quick to push her daughter behind her back, stepping away from the door. “It’s aunt Pheebs, she—”

“It’s not her,” Emma’s voice was grave, so unfitting for a young woman, and she inched closer to her mother, too. Which left Javier at the stove, looking at the three of them with confusion and alarm. “It’s him, it’s the man of the lilacs.”

“What?” perplexed, Javier took a step forward, only to be stopped by Helena’s extended arm, while she pushed all three of them behind her just as Phoebe walked into the kitchen. Accompanied. “What the hell—” Javier exhaled, reaching for his belt.

“Agent Peña!” James exclaimed, translucent as he came into the light. Javier’s head started spinning as he stared at him, then at Phoebe Goode, her arm trapped in his vice grip made of fingers of smoke, then back at him. “Long time no see. How’s Laredo? I think I’m starting to feel homesick.”

As James spoke, Helena had started stepping backwards, her gaze never leaving Phoebe—the two sisters were looking at each other, guilt and fear and resolution in their gazes that no one but the younger girls could notice, the familiarity an ache on the palms of their hands as they held each others’, keeping close, keeping behind their mother.

“Helena,” Javier called, his gaze unwavering as he took hold of his gun. “You said he was dead.”

“Yes,” she nodded, and for a split second, Phoebe’s eyes showed surprise.

“Doesn’t look like it,” he retorted, and James scoffed.

“You’ve all spent weeks pretending I’m not here—well, almost all,” he tilted his head, gaze settling onto Emma, and smiled. Helena pushed her daughter into her back, the girl hiding her face against her shoulder, clinging tighter onto her sister’s hand—Sophia held her chin high, squeezing back. “It’s gotten boring.”

“Then leave,” in Phoebe’s voice there was all the rage of the Goode women before her. But then James turned, his grip tighter on her arm, and Helena watched her sister’s legs tremble. “Just leave us alone,” she pleaded, eyes widening.

“No,” James chuckled, pulling her closer—Javier could see the strain in the woman’s shoulder, her face contorting in pain, and could not wrap his head around it. James Hawkins did not look real, or at least not real enough to hurt them. Still, he felt uneasy, even more so when he spoke again, his head lowered next to Phoebe’s. “I’m feeling very into sisters right now,” his gaze flickered towards Helena, too, a grin taking over his pale face.

Javier wasn’t looking at her, but he felt Helena straighten her back, look at him, and then turn. He heard her whisper to her daughters, possibly holding them closer, to run into their aunts’ room and be mindful of the salt. He heard two sets of steps backtrack, and watched James’ face shift into disappointment.

“Oh, Lena, Lena, Lena—you really do take the fun out of anything, don’t you?” he took one step forward, dragging Phoebe with him—the woman cried weakly, trying and failing to escape his hold.

“Hey,” only now that the kids weren’t in the room did Javier lift his gun—although he was sure it would do nothing to stop the man, and his widened grin only confirmed it. “Let go of her.”

“And you,” James groaned, even as Javier placed himself between him and Helena, “you never, ever learned when to just give up,” the two men looked at each other—Javier’s gun lifting, James’ hand reaching out for him. “You should let the adults—”

Before the sentence was over, James screamed, letting go of Phoebe. Helena ignored Javier’s surprised gasp in favour of her sister tumbling to the side, quick to reach her before she could even touch the floor.

The same floor where a star shimmered, catching the sunlight. Javier carried it with him everywhere he went, in remembrance of his father, the star-shaped badge he’d lived by for ages before retiring. Javier did not believe in luck, good or bad that it was, but he did believe in reminders: of doing the right thing, always. Of never losing sight of who he was.

He picked it up right as James straightened, a hole in his near-invisible hand that echoed its shape. Without thinking, without considering, Javier held it up right as the other man—or whatever was left of him—screamed in his direction, unintelligible words that probably would’ve resounded like threats, had Javier been able to hear a single one.

Instead, he stared as the figure vanished, with one longer scream and a curse, the air darkening in front of his eyes and then dissipated into nothing, leaving him to look at the corridor that brought to the stairs, a ringing in his ears.

“It’s okay, Pheebs,” Helena’s voice slowly brought him back, words repeated soothingly as she still held her sister. “It’s okay, it’s alright,” reassuring, in spite of her trembling voice. “I need you to call the aunts, Phoebe. I need you to tell them what happened. Can you do that?”

“I’m sorry,” Phoebe was still saying, her eyes unfocused though she looked up to Helena.

“I know, I know—but can you?” Javier could almost see it—nights spent with Helena reassuring her sister, hidden under thick blankets or on the rooftop of the house beneath a sky full of stars. “Please, I need to go to the girls.”

“Oh, the girls,” Phoebe exhaled, and released the grip on her arm. “Of course. Of course. I’m sorry.”

Helena didn’t wait, though she lingered enough to rest a kiss to Phoebe’s temple, before standing and walking out of the kitchen. It took Javier a moment to come to his senses, and then he went straight after her.

“What the hell was that?” he asked, his mind still reeling, forgetting for a moment the effect he had on her. “Was that him? Did I kill him?”

“Yes, and no—technically,” Helena didn’t stop, heading for the stairs she used to sit on when she was a kid to spy on the aunts. “It was his spirit, which you banished. But I told you, I killed him. And you can do whatever with this information after, but right now—”

“Hold on just a goddamn second, all right?” Javier grabbed her arm, pulling her right back against him. A split second in which they looked each other in the eyes, and all that had happened the night before came back, all that had been left unsaid before hit them square in the chest, and in that split second, they could’ve almost forgotten all else. “What are you talking about? His spirit? I came here to bring in the bad guy—generally, that’s what I do, and now you’re telling me about spirits?”

“Is that why you came here, Javier?” she stood her ground, her arm still in his hold. “Be honest.”

“Honesty,” he scoffed. “I thought I did—and then you were here, and your letter—maybe that’s what brought me here. Maybe it was you. And I’m all mixed-up about that.”

Helena was looking at him with that storm still brewing in her eyes, and Javier felt his knees threaten to give out underneath him. His hand fell from her upper arm, down her elbow and wrist, brushing the palm of her hand. She took a slow breath in, lips trembling.

“The reason you’re here and you don’t know why is because I sent for you,” she said, quietly.

“I know why—”

“You don’t,” she interrupted him. “When I was a little girl, I worked a spell so I would never fall in love. I asked for qualities in a man that I knew couldn’t possibly exist,” she shook her head, while his fingers wrapped around her limp hand. “But you do.”

“So,” he scoffed, “you’re saying that what I’m feeling is just one of your spells?”

“Yes, it’s not real,” it sounded like it pained her to say, even though Javier knew she was telling the truth. Or at least thought she was. “And if you stay, I wouldn’t know if it was because of the spell, and you wouldn’t know if it was because I don’t want to go to prison.”

“All relationships have problems,” he muttered, and she gave a small, unamused laugh.

“I thought I loved Frankie, but that was another spell too,” for a split second, she held his hand back, squeezing her fingers around his to the point it hurt. “Still, you don’t want to know what happens if you stay. We’re all cursed. You saw that,” and just like that, she let go of him.

“Curses only have power when you believe in them, Helena, and I don’t,” clenching his fists, Javier stepped back from her. “You know what? I wished for you too.”

Helena knew. He’d told her the night before, his lips etching each word onto her skin.

But she watched him go nevertheless, glad he managed to take the steps she couldn’t.

Helena was tired. She had been tired since lying on the floor next to her sister, watching as she was being consumed from inside. But all of that was over. She’d stared at the letter from Laredo for days after that, keeping it stored with the other one written in her own hand that carried the mark of both her touch and his.

She did her best to not think of him. It was near impossible.

James Hawkins’ cause of death was accidental, read the letter. His body was identified by jewellery in the ashes of a body found in Laredo, right by his property. The same ring he’d told her was in his car, the car she’d driven, the car she’d spilt belladonna in.

Sincerely, Javier Peña, special investigator.

“I don’t think you’ll find him there, Lena,” Phoebe said softly, when she caught her reading the letter once more. “But somewhere else, perhaps.”

For days, she let the words linger. Days turned into weeks turned into months, his absence like an emptiness into her chest. She’d almost convinced herself it would pass. That, with time, that too would pass—just another pain, just another absence. She could deal with it. She could.

And then Javier was there, in her backyard, or at least that was what she thought she was seeing, because it couldn’t be. How could he be there, when he was in her dreams just that night?

“What would you do, Pheebs?” she whispered, her heart beating so loud she wouldn’t be surprised if everybody else could hear.

“What wouldn’t I do, for the right man?” Phoebe whispered in return, gently pushing her forward with a wide smile. “This is not the aunts’, this is the two of you.”

All the while, Javier looked at them, standing perfectly still like a deer in headlights, unsure of what to do, one of his hands half-raised as if in greeting but without waving, the other buried deep within his pocket. He looked at them, and watched Phoebe quickly lead the girls away even when they tried to run to him, and then Helena walk in his direction.

“A love that even time will lie down and be still for,” he said as a way of greeting, once they were standing one in front of the other. “Ever since I went back, time hasn’t felt real, because you weren’t there. And maybe you still believe it’s for a spell you did as a child, or your aunts’ fault—”

“How do you know about the aunts?” it was hard not to smile when he fidgeted like that.

“Your sister told me,” he returned, softly. “Your sister called.”

“And you’re here,” she said, a half-step forward in his direction.

“I’m here,” he nodded, moving the hand out of his pocket and reaching for her tentatively. “I’m here because I know this is real. No gimmick, just—”

“Love?” she suggested, and the glint in her eyes reminded him of the moon itself.

“Love,” he repeated, their fingers interlocking. “Helena, I mean all of it. I’ll even quit smokin’ if—”

She kissed him, plain and simple. Pulled his hands so that he was stumbling forward and caught his lips with hers, gentle, slow. She kissed him, and as Javier held her, he felt like he’d finally gone home. She kissed him, and felt that empty space in her chest filling with the taste of coffee and tobacco.

Can love travel back in time and heal a broken heart?

There were some things, after all, that Helena Goode knew for certain:

Always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder. Add pepper to your mashed potatoes. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Plant lavender for luck. Fall in love whenever you can.

[chris-continues]

Unconventional, Unusual, and Unapologetically Yours

Inspired by this text post I made!

In which you enter a relationship with an unfamiliar creature.. yet he’s the sweetest person you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.

TAGS: @beanibon @vashfantasy @h4venpha @lune010

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

Available on ao3!

NOTES: I cranked this out in like less than an hour I think. Uncanny Vash makes my fingers type like the fucking wind LMAO- ALSO I MIGHT DO PT2 <33 ^^lmk if you don’t want to be tagged! Some people asked and I know others like uncanny Vash a lot, so I thought you’d enjoy. I tried to add a bit of creature Vash as well, please feel free to comment/reblog if you enjoyed! And lmk any ideas you have :D

Your boyfriend deviated from what one would call the standard partner. 

Well, not that such a thing was negative. He was by far one of the most beautiful people you’d ever seen, that much you noted from your first encounter. An abandoned warehouse, where you’d been forced to do an odd job when tight for cash. “Get a photo of the infamous Humanoid Typhoon!”, they said, giving you directions out of town. The warehouse then had appeared nothing short of shady, with its shabby walls, unfamiliar state, and a slight mildewy smell you weren’t too fond of. 

That would soon change, becoming your safe haven, as you recalled how you’d met. 

Your tentative steps inside, phone flashlight beaming as you explored for a good few minutes before- “Ah!” You jolted, the wide smile of a tall man, startling you. He apologetically waved his hands before you, attempting to reassure you, “Aw god, I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to scare you!” 

“It’s uh, fine, yeah.” You cleared your throat, turning your flashlight down slightly, “Who are you?” “Vash.” He chirped, quite literally. “And you?”, he offered his hand, ever so charming. If you recalled correctly, his pupils dilated a bit too much at the touch of your hand against his.

Humanoid. Not human.

It took you an embarrassingly long time to connect the dots, your attempt to search for the man of the hour futile (or successful, depending on how you viewed it). Searching for any extending corridors, or perhaps a hidden room. His company was originally slightly unsettling, as he was a stranger just tagging along for the ride, but he had no ill intent and with each sweet remark you found your night to not be a complete failure, swearing you’d return next weekend, same time to find the Humanoid Typhoon together. 

It turned into a game of stalling. 

Searching the same wall as last week, fingers tapping at the eroding wood of the building. His fingertips had brushed yours a handful of times as he blamed it on the darkness, a slight squeak leaving him each time, and maybe it was your fatigue riddled mind but you almost swore a slight glow emanated from him each time. 

After the 3rd week of searching you really didn’t care about finding this Typhoon guy anymore, figuring he was just some urban legend. Why did you keep going? For Vash, of course. He was a great listener, funny, and seemed to enjoy your company, and you really enjoyed his, and by god were you absolutely horrendous when it came to romance. So continued your pining of poking and prodding at an abandoned warehouse at the late hours of night. Too nervous to ask for his number (you found out later he didn’t have a phone), too shy to initiate anything further. 

Aha, until one night. 

Your searching had become less investigative of the building and moreso of each other, legs crossed and sitting in the middle of the warehouse with music playing from your phone on occasion. Discussions ranging from god knows what, each interesting in their own right. What confused you was that something as mundane as you telling a story in which you got your neighbors mail left him at the edge of his seat, but you simply chalked it up as him being a good listener and eager to engage in conversation, (that being partially true). Exhaustion creeped at you one night though, your horrendous sleeping habits having caught up with you as you rested your head against the derelict floorboards and gazed up at the ceilings. 

Vash had a habit of humming to fill in silences, and much like the rest of him you found yourself inexplicably drawn to it.. So sue you for being soothed to sleep by such a thing.

He didn’t tell you until much later, but that night he’d let his hand graze the back of yours, feathers peeking from beneath his jacket with the slight bumps ever so comforting against your skin. You let out the cutest hums, rolling just a bit closer to him.

His breath caught in his throat, as he let himself touch your hand just a bit more. His long, inhuman tongue laved over his several rows of sharp, unnatural teeth in a fidgeting motion. His pupils expanded, admiring you. You always appeared a bit nervous or tense around him- of course that diminished over time, he noted, but why were you so nervous? God, he hated being like this sometimes. To be.. A normal human companion of yours was something he found he craved. Every week, waiting for you in this dingy, subpar hiding place..

You were the highlight of his week. 

He had to hold himself back from instinctively curling into your side, wrapping his lanky limbs around you and allowing his vertebrae to extend to his full height.. Several feet taller than you. He wants to engulf you whole, keep you forever close and cherish you with chirps you couldn’t possibly understand. 

When you awake, he lays beside you. His body is as stiff as the wooden planks lining the warehouse floors, glancing at you as you finally make a move.

You scoot an inch closer.

His breath hitches in his throat. 

He can feel a draft making its way through the building,your body shivering as you shift just a bit closer.

“You.. are you cold?” He hesitates, arm stiffening as the fabric of his jacket meets the sleeve of your shirt. 

“Yeah, kinda..” You murmur, eyes darting away from him then back to him- god, you could stare at him and never tire of it. 

Your arms are pressed against one another, his fingers- wait, they’re uncharacteristically smooth, toying with the end of your sleeve. Oh god. The cutest guy you’ve ever met and he’s- oh god- you’ve dreamt of this more than you’d care to admit, hugging a pillow to sleep most nights, mind drifting to the cute guy you meet every weekend outside of town. 

Your fingers graze his once more, breathing pausing once more.

He intertwines his fingers with yours.

You think you’re going to die.

He chirps happily, and with your curiosity getting the better of you, you can’t help but ask, “What’s that noise mean?”

He blinks owlishly, sheepish smile crossing his face, “Oh uh, I don’t know really. It just.. happens?”  

“Ah, mhm. That’s fair.”

You peek down to your intertwined hands, only to see-

“Vash?”

His mouth gapes open to speak, and you get another peek of his- oh god, now that it’s morning you can see better.

Rows upon rows of his sharp teeth. His mouth forcibly staying together in one piece rather than three. Unnaturally long limbs. Feathers sprouting from him. 

“You.. you’re not human, are you?”

Oh god. He scared you. He’s so ugly, and you’re frozen, backing away slightly- “Oh my god you’re not- are you?”

The Humanoid Typhoon.

“Yeah. I.. I am.”

It takes you a moment to collect your bearings, mouth agape. “You.. you  never planned to hurt me, right?” Your eyes are wide, hands in your lap as you now sit up, legs criss crossed. 

“God no! Never! Oh god, I'm so sorry.” He buried his face in his hands, hiding it from the peeking rays of sunlight peering through the wood of the warehouse. “I don’t try to hurt anyone really, it just.. happens.” He swallowed thickly, “You can leave, if you’d like. I won’t hold it against you.”

You shake your head adamantly, “No, no I trust you. Just surprised me is all. I’ve never seen anything like it, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Vash.” Your hands fidget within your lap, “I enjoy your company and you not being human won’t change that.”

He peeked at you from his fingers, pupils dilated. “..really?”

You nodded. 

He certainly didn’t appear very convinced, but as you offered one of your previously fidgeting hands out to him.. he took it. Hand much larger in yours, inhumanly smooth- you found upon closer inspection he had no fingerprints. 

You stayed like that for god knows how long, until you checked your phone, “Shit! I’m sorry Vash, I’ve got to-” Aw god, his face, he was so cute..

“I’ll return soon.”

He walked you to your car parked outside. 

Your next few visits were a lot more different. He never directly said it, but before long you started staying the night, pressed close to one another, easing closer and closer to one another with hesitant touches. His eyes pleaded for your company each time you left, a small pout forming on his lips. 

You hated leaving him each time. 

Your first kiss was sweet, clumsy, and absolutely adorable. Just like him. 

He laid atop you, the world’s best weighted blanket, wrapping his unproportionate, lanky limbs around you to pull you flush against him. “I like you Vash. A lot.” You admitted into his hair quietly, shyly kissing the crown of his head. He chirped excitedly, a few clicks escaping him as he shifted to have your eyes meet, lips peppering pecks on your cheeks, jaw, and the corners of your lips. 

You both were too nervous to initially confess, just basking in one another’s company. 

“Like you too.” A series of inhuman noises escaped him, elated by your flustered giggles. 

He almost felt bad for temporarily silencing you with a shy and quick peck to your lips. His eyes widened, before going in for another. 

Another, another, another, purring contentedly as he pressed closer to you in hopes to mold you both into one. 

Your hands tentatively reached to cradle his face, grinning into the dorky kiss you two shared. 

Now though? You glance at him, wrapped in a mini nest you two share atop your bed. He nuzzles into your neck, teeth gently nibbling at the flesh as the rays of morning peek through your bedroom window. His legs hang off the bed with how tall he is, but he couldn’t care less.

Is it unconventional? Sure. Unusual? Most definitely.

But you’ve never been more happy than you have with him.