#this is like the first time I like a design I made

[dissapointu]

Hello, I wanted to ask you a little drabble with all the arcane characters.

Like how they fell in love with reader ( like what captured their attention etc)

It would be pretty cool in my opinion.

Have a wonderful day\night.

Aaaugh, I made of made this a bit long-(really long, that was sarcasm) I'm splitting it into two portions

Jinx-

Jinx didn’t know what to make of you at first. You weren’t loud or flashy like the people she was used to dealing with. You weren’t trying to prove anything, and yet, there was something about you that screamed different.

She first noticed it when you didn’t flinch at one of her explosions—not the way most people did, anyway. The boom had rattled the room, shaking dust from the rafters, and yet, there you were, brushing soot from your shirt like it was just another Tuesday.

“Nice touch with the blue sparks,” you’d said, nodding at her latest contraption. “Adds flair.”

Flair? Most people would’ve called it destruction. Most people would’ve screamed or run. But you? You tilted your head, eyes bright, genuinely impressed, and for a moment, Jinx was at a loss for words.

It wasn’t just that you didn’t fear her; it was the way you saw her. You noticed the little things—the care she put into her work, the way she tinkered endlessly to perfect her machines. While others saw chaos, you saw art, and for someone like Jinx, that was everything.

The next time she saw you, it was intentional. She didn’t need to bring you a gadget she’d been working on—it wasn’t even finished—but she wanted to see how you’d react. Sure enough, you examined it like it was the most fascinating thing in the world, pointing out details she hadn’t realized anyone else would notice.

“This is genius,” you murmured, tracing a finger along a carved design she’d barely remembered adding. “You really think through every detail, don’t you?”

Her heart did something weird then, like skipping a beat but more… explosive.

From there, it snowballed. You became her favorite person to show her creations to, the only one she trusted to see her work before it was ready. You never judged, never laughed when something misfired—just smiled and asked how you could help.

And Jinx? She realized she’d fallen for you one day when she caught herself trying to impress you. The realization hit her like a grenade: she didn’t just want you to like her inventions—she wanted you to like her.

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” she said one night, leaning against her workbench, tools scattered around her. Her voice was softer than usual, almost unsure. “Most people don’t get me, but… you do.”

You’d just smiled, that easy, genuine smile that had hooked her from the start. “That’s because you’re worth getting.”

And just like that, Jinx knew there was no going back.

Vi –

Vi wasn’t looking for anyone. She didn’t have time for soft moments, not with everything she had on her plate. But then you came along, and she couldn’t help but notice how you carried yourself—steady, calm, unshakable.

The first time she really noticed you, it wasn’t some grand, sweeping moment. It was quiet. You were helping some kids in the Lanes patch up a rickety swing they used to pass the time. Nothing fancy, just you, a coil of rope, and that determined look in your eyes.

She hadn’t meant to stop and watch, but something about you drew her in. Maybe it was the way you didn’t hesitate to get your hands dirty or how the kids laughed around you, their faces lighting up despite everything the Lanes threw at them.

“You’re good with them,” she said after working up the nerve to approach you, trying to sound casual.

You glanced up at her, wiping sweat from your brow, and gave her a smile that hit her like a sucker punch. “Someone’s gotta be. They deserve better than this, don’t you think?”

It wasn’t just your words that stuck with her—it was the way you said them. Like you meant it. Like you actually believed in something better, even when the world gave you every reason not to.

From then on, Vi found herself noticing you everywhere. The way you stepped up when others hesitated. The way you didn’t back down, even when things got messy. You had this quiet strength about you, the kind that didn’t demand attention but earned it anyway.

She started finding excuses to stick around—helping with repairs, walking the kids home, sparring with you in the courtyard when the opportunity came up. And each time, she found herself drawn to you a little more.

“You’re somethin’ else,” she admitted one night, sitting beside you on a crumbling wall, the city’s broken skyline stretching out before you.

You raised an eyebrow at her, clearly amused. “That so?”

“Yeah.” She rubbed the back of her neck, uncharacteristically shy. “Most people would’ve given up on this place a long time ago, but not you. You stick it out, no matter how hard it gets.”

You shrugged, your gaze softening as you looked at her. “Same could be said about you, Vi.”

That was the moment it hit her—like a punch she didn’t see coming. It wasn’t just admiration anymore. It was something deeper, something she couldn’t ignore.

She fell for you in pieces, each small moment stacking up until it all clicked. It wasn’t about grand gestures or dramatic confessions. It was the way you fit—like you were exactly what she didn’t know she was missing.

And when she finally worked up the courage to tell you, your answer came with that same steady smile that had captivated her from the start.

“Figured it out, huh?” you teased, and she rolled her eyes, though her grin gave her away.

Yeah, she figured it out. And she wasn’t letting you go.

Sevika-

Sevika didn’t believe in love. In the Lanes, it wasn’t something people had the luxury of chasing. Survival came first, and attachments were just liabilities waiting to stab you in the back.

But you were… different.

The first time she noticed you, it wasn’t because you were trying to catch her attention. You were too busy holding your own, stepping into a dispute between two gang members over stolen supplies. She’d leaned back in the corner of the Last Drop, watching the chaos unfold, ready to step in if things got messy.

But then you surprised her.

You didn’t raise your voice or threaten anyone. Instead, you stood tall, calm as you defused the tension with a few sharp words and an unflinching glare. You had this presence, like you weren’t afraid of anyone in the room—not even her.

“Bold move,” Sevika had said when you approached the bar afterward, ordering a drink like you hadn’t just stared down two brutes twice your size.

You glanced at her, your lips quirking into a small smirk. “Someone’s gotta keep things from falling apart.”

That was the moment she started paying attention. You didn’t just survive in the Lanes—you thrived. You didn’t let the weight of the place crush you like it did everyone else. And more than that, you cared. Not in some naive, starry-eyed way, but in a way that made you fight tooth and nail for the people who couldn’t fight for themselves.

It pissed her off at first. The way you carried yourself like you weren’t afraid of the darkness around you. She thought it was reckless, stupid even. But the more she watched, the more she realized it wasn’t recklessness. It was conviction.

You weren’t scared of getting your hands dirty, but you never lost sight of what mattered to you. That’s what got under her skin, what kept her coming back to the same barstool night after night, just to see what you’d do next.

She started finding reasons to stick around. Sometimes it was to share a drink, other times to offer backup when things got rough. You never asked for her help, but you didn’t push her away either, and that intrigued her more than she cared to admit.

One night, after a particularly close call with one of Silco’s rivals, you patched up a cut on her arm, your hands steady as you worked.

“You’re too damn stubborn for your own good,” she muttered, watching you through half-lidded eyes.

You chuckled, your touch gentle as you tied off the bandage. “Takes one to know one.”

It was such a simple moment, but it stayed with her. The way you looked at her—not like she was some feared enforcer, but like she was just… Sevika. It wasn’t something she was used to, and it scared her as much as it thrilled her.

Over time, she realized she was looking for you in every crowd, waiting for the nights you’d sit beside her and trade sharp banter over a drink. She fell for you quietly, begrudgingly, like it snuck up on her before she could stop it.

And when she finally admitted it—to herself, to you—it wasn’t some grand confession. It was a gruff, almost reluctant, “You mean more to me than you should.”

Your response? That same infuriating, endearing smirk. “Took you long enough to figure that out.”

Sevika huffed a laugh, shaking her head, but the truth was, she didn’t mind. Because for once, letting someone in didn’t feel like a weakness. It felt like strength.

Silco -

Silco had always been a man of control, ambition, and sharp edges. In the underbelly of Zaun, survival demanded nothing less. Trust was currency, and affection? A distraction. He had long since accepted that power was the only thing worth chasing.

But then you appeared.

You weren’t loud or showy, not one of those people clawing for his attention. No, you worked quietly, efficiently, in the background of the chaos he ruled. You were just another piece in his intricate machine at first—just another person serving a purpose.

What caught his attention first was your unyielding patience. Where others in the Lanes were frantic, desperate to prove their worth, you moved with a calm certainty, like you weren’t afraid of the storm around you. You fixed what was broken—tools, machines, even people—without asking for anything in return.

One night, you’d been tending to one of his injured men after a skirmish, your hands steady as you stitched him up in the dim light of the hideout. Silco watched from the shadows, curious. The man hissed in pain, and you responded with a soft laugh.

“Hold still, or I’ll sew you up crooked,” you teased, your tone warm but firm.

It wasn’t the words that struck him—it was the way you carried yourself. There was no fear in your voice, no need to prove yourself to anyone. You didn’t care about earning his favor or gaining power. You just… were.

For someone like Silco, who thrived on manipulation and control, it was unnerving. People were supposed to want something from him. But you? You treated him like a man, not a king.

It wasn’t long before he started seeking you out. At first, it was subtle. A lingering glance as he passed through the room, a quiet question about your work. You always answered him honestly, without flinching under his piercing gaze, and it left him unsettled in a way he couldn’t quite name.

One evening, after a particularly brutal day, he found you sitting by the docks, staring out at the toxic waters of Zaun. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly at the sight of you, though he didn’t understand why.

“You should be careful out here,” he said, his voice low as he stepped closer.

You glanced over your shoulder, smiling faintly. “And miss the chance to breathe? I think I’ll take my chances.”

It was such a simple thing, but it stayed with him. In a world that demanded constant vigilance, you allowed yourself to simply exist. It was a quiet defiance, one that intrigued him more than he cared to admit.

Over time, you became a constant presence in his life, slipping through the cracks of his carefully constructed walls. It wasn’t grand gestures or impassioned declarations that made him fall for you. It was the quiet moments—the way you never cowered under his gaze, the way you challenged him without hostility, the way you saw him for more than his scars.

One night, as the two of you shared a rare moment of silence in his office, he finally allowed himself to admit what he’d been feeling.

“You’re dangerous,” he said, his voice soft, almost amused.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back in your chair. “Dangerous? To you?”

He smirked, though there was no malice in it. “You’ve managed to do what no one else has.”

“And what’s that?”

“You’ve made me want something I didn’t think I needed.”

Your smile widened, warm and unguarded, and for once, Silco didn’t feel the need to look away.

In you, he found something unexpected: a quiet kind of strength, the kind that didn’t demand attention but commanded respect. And for a man who had spent his life fighting for control, letting himself fall for you felt like the ultimate rebellion.

Vander -

Vander wasn’t a man who fell in love easily. His life had been shaped by too much loss, too much responsibility. The people of the Lanes leaned on him, and he carried their weight with quiet strength. Love, to him, felt like a luxury he couldn’t afford.

But then, there was you.

It wasn’t some grand moment that captured his attention—it was the small, steady things. The way you moved through the chaos of the Last Drop, keeping the peace in your own quiet way. The way you never demanded his time but somehow always knew when he needed someone to sit beside him in silence.

What struck him first was your kindness—not the soft, fragile kind, but the sort that had edges. You didn’t let people walk over you, but you never hesitated to offer a hand to someone in need. In a place like Zaun, where survival often demanded selfishness, you were a rarity.

He noticed it one night when a brawl broke out in the bar. Two rowdy patrons had nearly overturned a table, and before Vander could step in, you were already there. You didn’t raise your voice or throw a punch. Instead, you placed a firm hand on one of their shoulders, your calm, measured tone cutting through the tension.

“Save it for the street, boys. We don’t spill blood where we share drinks.”

To his surprise, they listened. Vander couldn’t help but chuckle as they slunk off, muttering apologies.

“Got a way with people,” he said later, handing you a drink as thanks.

You shrugged, offering a small smile. “Just trying to keep things from falling apart.”

Those words stayed with him. It was how you carried yourself—like you were always holding the pieces together, not because you had to, but because you chose to.

Over time, he started finding excuses to be near you. A quick conversation here, a shared drink there. You had a way of making him feel… lighter. Like he could let go of the weight he carried, even if just for a moment.

It wasn’t until one quiet evening, after the bar had emptied, that he realized how deeply you’d settled into his heart. You were sitting on one of the tables, cleaning up a spill, humming a tune under your breath. The soft glow of the lanterns lit up your face, and for a moment, Vander just… watched.

“You’re staring,” you said, not looking up.

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Caught me.”

You glanced at him then, your smile warm and teasing. “What’s on your mind, big guy?”

He hesitated, uncharacteristically unsure. But then, he decided to just say it—Vander was never one for dancing around the truth.

“You. The way you care about this place. The people. Me.” He exhaled, leaning against the bar. “Never thought I’d find someone like you in all this.”

Your eyes softened, and you set down the rag in your hands, crossing the room to stand in front of him. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you teased gently. “Took you long enough to notice me.”

He laughed then, a deep, rumbling sound that made your chest warm. “Oh, I noticed. Took me a bit longer to admit it.”

And when you reached up, resting a hand against his face, he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing for just a moment. In you, he found something he hadn’t realized he needed—a steady flame in the chaos of the Lanes.

Ekko -

Ekko didn’t believe in distractions. The Firelights needed him, the Lanes needed him. His days were spent fixing the mess left behind by Piltover’s greed and Silco’s reign. He had no time for anything else—least of all love.

But you? You didn’t give him much of a choice.

It wasn’t a single moment that caught his attention. It was a collection of them, like the pieces of a clock coming together. He first noticed the way you moved—quick and deliberate, like you belonged to the rhythm of the chaos around you. No hesitation, no wasted motion. Whether you were patching up one of the Firelights after a mission or organizing supplies in the hideout, you carried yourself with a quiet confidence that made it impossible for him not to watch.

What hooked him, though, was your laughter. The first time he heard it, he froze. It had been after a particularly rough raid. Everyone was tense, the weight of the day pressing down on their shoulders. And then you cracked some joke—stupid, honestly, but something about the way you delivered it had everyone laughing, including Ekko.

That was when he realized it: you didn’t just survive the Lanes. You thrived in them. You brought light into a place where most people only saw shadows.

It started small—an extra second spent talking to you, a lingering glance when he thought you weren’t looking. He’d catch himself gravitating toward you without even meaning to, drawn to the way you lit up a room with just your presence.

But it wasn’t until one night, long after the others had gone to sleep, that he truly understood how deep you’d gotten under his skin. You were sitting by the glow of a makeshift lantern, tinkering with some piece of tech you’d salvaged. The light cast shadows across your face, highlighting the curve of your cheek, the focus in your eyes.

“Burning the midnight oil?” he asked, leaning against the doorway.

You glanced up, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Someone’s gotta keep this place running.”

He stepped closer, hands shoved into his pockets. “You do too much, you know that?”

“Says the guy who can barely take a break,” you shot back, raising an eyebrow.

He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Fair point.” For a moment, he just stood there, watching you work. The quiet stretched between you, comfortable and warm.

“Why do you do it?” he asked suddenly.

You paused, looking up at him with a tilt of your head. “Do what?”

“Care so much. About all this.” He gestured vaguely, as if to encompass the entire hideout, the Firelights, the Lanes.

Your gaze softened, and you set the piece of tech aside. “Because someone has to. And because… I believe in you, Ekko.”

The sincerity in your voice hit him like a punch to the gut. You believed in him. In a world that seemed determined to tear him down, you stood beside him, unwavering.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, reaching out to take his hand. “Guess you’re stuck with me anyway.”

That was the moment Ekko fell. Completely, irreversibly.

Jayce -

Jayce had always been drawn to brilliance. Invention, ambition, ingenuity—they were the cornerstones of what he admired in others. And yet, none of it had ever prepared him for you.

The first time he saw you, it wasn’t in a polished Piltover workshop or a grand council meeting. It was in a small, crowded market on the edge of the Undercity, where the scent of oil and metal clung to the air. You stood at a stall, bartering for scraps and materials like your life depended on it—because, as he’d later learn, it did.

What caught his attention wasn’t just your resourcefulness or the sharp wit you wielded against the vendor. It was the way your eyes lit up when you held a seemingly useless part in your hands, already envisioning the endless possibilities it could unlock.

He didn’t even mean to approach you. His curiosity had a mind of its own. “What are you going to do with that?”

You turned, a little startled, but you didn’t back down from his inquisitive gaze. Instead, you held up the twisted hunk of metal like it was a crown jewel. “Turn it into something brilliant. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

It wasn’t arrogance—it was certainty. And Jayce, who had spent his life chasing impossible ideas, saw a kindred spirit in you.

From that moment, you became an enigma he couldn’t resist unraveling. Every conversation revealed new layers to your ingenuity, your resilience, your unshakable belief in making the impossible possible. And the more time he spent with you, the more he realized it wasn’t just your mind that captivated him—it was your heart.

You were unafraid to challenge him, to push him, to remind him that the world wasn’t just equations and theories but people and dreams. Your passion reignited something in him he hadn’t realized he’d lost: a love for the why, not just the how.

One evening, as the two of you sat side by side, tinkering with a device in his lab, he found himself watching you instead of the work. The way your hair caught the light, the quiet determination in your expression, the soft smile when something finally clicked into place.

“You’re staring,” you teased without looking up.

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just—how do you make everything seem so effortless?”

You grinned, glancing at him with that spark he’d come to love. “It’s not effortless. I just don’t let the hard parts stop me.”

In that moment, he knew he was a goner.

Jayce Talis, the golden boy of Piltover, had fallen in love with you—not because of what you could build, but because of what you built in him: a renewed faith in the beauty of dreaming big, of chasing the spark no matter where it led.

And it apparently led to you.

Viktor-

Viktor didn’t notice you at first, not in the way others might have. He was too focused on his work, his mind consumed by blueprints and equations. But you… you were patient, always there in the background, asking questions no one else dared to ask, seeing things no one else cared to notice.

It was one of those late nights in the lab when you caught his attention. He was hunched over a schematic, frustration etched into every line of his face. You, seated quietly at the far end of the room, had been watching him—though you’d never admit it aloud.

“Did you eat today?” your voice broke through the silence.

Viktor didn’t even look up. “I’m fine,” he replied, a rote answer that wasn’t convincing in the slightest.

You set down your work and crossed the room, standing just out of his peripheral vision. “Fine isn’t food, Viktor.”

When he finally looked at you, there was something in your eyes that made him pause. It wasn’t pity or condescension—two things he’d grown accustomed to. It was understanding, genuine and unyielding, as if you knew exactly what it felt like to lose yourself in something bigger.

That was the first moment he realized you were different.

It wasn’t the last.

You had a way of grounding him, of pulling him out of his own head without judgment. Your presence was quiet but powerful, a steady force that didn’t demand his attention but earned it nonetheless.

What truly captured him, though, was your mind. You didn’t just accept the world as it was; you questioned it, challenged it, sought to understand it. You weren’t afraid to debate him, to push back when you thought he was wrong, and yet you did so with a respect that made him listen.

He found himself looking forward to your late-night conversations, the way you’d linger in the lab long after everyone else had gone home. You’d ask about his work—not just the mechanics but the why behind it, the hopes and fears he buried beneath his relentless drive.

One evening, as you sketched out a rough design on a scrap of paper, Viktor caught himself smiling. Not at the drawing, though it was clever, but at you. The way you bit your lip in concentration, the furrow of your brow, the quiet hum of satisfaction when you got something just right.

“You are remarkable,” he said softly, almost to himself.

You glanced up, surprised. “What?”

His cheeks flushed, and he looked away, fiddling with a wrench. “Nothing. Just… your ideas. They’re… innovative.”

But it wasn’t just your ideas. It was you—the way you saw the world, the way you saw him. Not as a man constrained by limitations but as someone capable of more.

You believed in him, not just in his work, and that was something Viktor hadn’t realized he craved until you offered it so freely.

And as the days turned into weeks, then months, he realized something else: He believed in you, too.

It wasn’t some grand epiphany or dramatic moment. It was in the quiet, shared glances, the lingering touches when you handed him a tool, the way his chest felt lighter when you were near. Somewhere in the midst of late nights and whispered dreams, Viktor had fallen in love.

Not just with your mind or your presence, but with the way you made him feel—seen, understood, whole.

And for a man who’d always fought against the odds, loving you felt like the greatest invention of all.

[not-so-mundane-after-all]

I know plenty of people have already made a version of the "Jinx is alive" theory post but I've also seen so many of you mourn her death that I decided to gather all the evidence and make another post, turning this theory into a fact.

Because Jinx is alive. It's not a speculation. It's literally there.

The first thing I'm going to mention are the context clues Jinx gives herself. First, the last thing the ghost of Silco tells her. I think the cycle only ends when you find the will to walk away. Then, the realization she comes to when Vi hugs her in the cell. You're never gonna give up on me, are you? What she tells Vi after she leaves her in that cell. You don't need to worry about me anymore. [...] And yes, her initial plan is to kill herself, because she thinks the only way for Vi to move on is for her to be gone. And Ekko gets there just in time to stop her but it looks like he doesn't convince her to abandon her plan, just change it.

And later, when she joins Vi in the final fight. What does she tell her? Still don't get it, huh, sis? I'm always with you. Even when we're worlds apart.

Everything that happens after is constructed specifically to let us and Vi believe that Jinx died. Until we get to this scene:

Caitlyn is studying the Hexgates designs.

She's looking through the pages depicting the place where the final fight happened, specifically focusing on the air vent shafts, while toying with a monkey bomb head - the same monkey bomb that Jinx used in her supposed last monents.

She looks down at the monkey...

Watch the eyes. The realization hits her...

And she smirks, knowing. Jinx used one of the air vents to escape before the explosion.

I've studied the explosion frame by frame. First, a small yellow explosion goes off - Jinx sets off the monkey bomb.

As it becomes bigger, she shoots out of there

this is still the beginning of the blast when we can still see her, and the big boom that destroys everything starts 10 frames later

Last context clue is a reference to the very first episode, which is clearly depicted in this gifset here, so instead of explaining, I'll just send you there to check for yourselves.

One thing that is speculation here is, how exactly did Caitlyn come into possession of the monkey bomb head? I doubt she found it there because it would have been turned to dust. And I'm thinking, Jinx took it with her and left it for Cait to find as a clue. She didn't want Vi to know but maybe she wanted Cait to figure it out. I imagine her sneaking into her house and maybe leaving it somewhere for Cait to find, like her desk or something. It gives Cait an idea, a gut feeling she needs to check, and that allows her to figure it out. Just like we are supposed to figure it out on our own.

Bottom line, Jinx is alive. She escaped the explosion through the air vents, then boarded the airship and left the city, convinced that the only way to give her sister a happy ending is to take herself out of the equation. The glitching closing shot saying The End in Jinx's colorful handwriting is a sign that she is telling us that this is where this story ends, like she's saying "don't look for me. It's over." That's also probably why we aren't shown what Caitlyn does with the information she now possesses.

I hope this helps take away from the grief 💙

[hoovesandfloorpaws]

[since everything under a Read More cut gets deleted in case a blog deletes/gets deleted and the WayBackMachine isn’t good with pictures, for Archive Purposes Only, I will add the most important bits of the/rest of the full post and have also checked/updated/added the source links to the best of my abilities. I will also add all pictures to make sure absolutely everything is included. Harry and Louis' tattoos are also color-coded for easier sorting.]

PART 1 "Artist Key:

FN: Freddy Negrete, Shamrock Social Club (LA)

LS: Liam Sparkes, Shangri-La Tattoo (London)

KP: Kevin Paul, Kevin Paul Tattoo (London)

TA: Tom Atkin, friend of Harry & Louis', fiance of Lou Teasdale (London)

Skunx: Skunx Tattoo (London)

DC: tattoo shop where Zayn and Louis went (Maryland) ---

February 1, 2012:

Star outline (Harry) - FN [Harry's 1st tattoo]

June 15, 2012: 

Wont' stop til we surrender (Harry) - Paul Nguyen [Harry's 2nd tattoo]

Meta: Harry got this tattoo about 10 days after Eleanor left the U.S. for the first time on the U.S. leg of the Up All Night tour. It was 2 days before she returned. It was at the beginning of the heightened closeting and increased Elounor pap shots. 

It is also important to note that this is a modified version of the song lyric from "Sweet Disposition" by Temper Trap. 

The song lyric as it is actually written/sung:

We won't stop 'til it's over Won't stop to surrender

Harry made the lyrics "won't stop 'til we surrender," using parts of each line to make it about more than one person in a struggle against something or someone else. 

The next day, on June 16th, Ed Sheeran did the show where he said Harry was "taken" and answered "Innit?" when a fan said "By Louis." 

June 23, 2012*: 

Hi (Harry) - Unknown [Harry's 3rd tattoo]

A for his mum (Anne) on forearm (Harry) - Unknown [Harry's 4th tattoo]

Meta: We did not see these two tattoos until June 23 at the Dallas show. Zayn has said in an interview that he "drew" the A on Harry's arm. This might mean he actually tattooed Harry himself. 

The "Hi" tattoo appears to be in Louis' handwriting. Just days after the tattoo appeared, Louis appeared very interested in a radio host's tattoo, asking twice if it was in her handwriting. The interview took place in Tampa on June 29. 

Harry: “What does this say?”. Boring stuff about this girl’s tattooed arm. Louis: “Did you write it yourself?”. Everyone: “…”. Louis: “Is that your handwriting?”

In Miami, on July 1st, Harry revealed it said "Hi" but was very coy about it. Liam then declared it his favorite tattoo (out of 4 at the time, but it counts, god damn it) and looked right at Louis.  

Same, Liam.

The "Hi" tattoo seems especially poignant as it came in the middle of a heavy Eleanor presence and Elounor push and Harry had Louis possibly tattoo a word on him in Louis' own handwriting. At the very least, he got a word in Louis' handwriting tattooed on himself. Almost like a brand. 

July 27, 2012*:

I CAN'T CHANGE... (Harry) - LS [Harry's 5th tattoo]

Birdcage (Harry) - LS [Harry's 6th tattoo]

I think Liam Sparkes did the "I can't change..." tattoo, which we first saw July 27, 2012, because the lettering and tone is identical to these kinds of tattoos that Liam Sparkes does:

I think this is also most likely the day Harry got the birdcage tattoo, which I think is a Liam Sparkes design. 

This is significant, because it places Liam early in Harry's tattoo timeline, making the stuff to come in October more important. 

August 9, 2012*: 

Hanger (Harry) - Unknown Artist [Harry's 7th tattoo]

I think it's possible this was done by Liam Sparkes on July 27th, as well. 

Meta: The "I can't change," birdcage with no door and hanger are the most obvious and heavy-handed series of anti-closeting tattoos Harry has gotten to date. All 3 came between very public Elounor appearances: the France trip in early July and the Olympics on August 10th-12th. 

August 13, 2012:

Padlock (Harry) - Ed Sheeran [Harry's 8th tattoo]

17BLACK (Harry) - KP [Harry's 9th tattoo]

Pingu (Harry) - KP [Harry's 10th tattoo]

Iced Gem (Harry) - KP [Harry's 11th tattoo]

Meta: Ed & Harry got tattoos together the night after the closing ceremonies of the Olympics 2012. In this article from August 14, Kevin Paul (the tattoo artist) says:

I did a couple of bits on him last night […] They’re really personal to him - the reasons he had them done and stuff, so he doesn’t really want to announce what they are […] One was something from his childhood, and another one was something really important in his life.

I think it's possible the "iced gem" for Gemma is the "something from his childhood." I think the 17BLACK is the "something really important in his life", because I doubt a matching cartoon-themed penguin tattoo he got with Ed is important enough to be coy about. Ed did the padlock, so Kevin wasn't talking about that one.

August 21, 2012:

Never Gonna/Dance Again (Harry) - TA [Harry's 12th tattoo]

"Big” on big toe (Harry) - TA [Harry's 13th tattoo]

September 4, 2012:

"Gemma" in Hebrew (Harry) - FN [Harry's 14th tattoo]

Shamrock (Harry) - FN [Harry's 15th tattoo]

Freddy Negrete posted a picture of Harry from the night of the 4th to his instagram the next day on September 5th.

September 8, 2012:

Green Bay Packers logo (Harry) - FN [Harry's 16th tattoo]

Drama Masks/SMCL (Harry) - FN [Harry's 17th tattoo]

Filled in star (Harry) - FN [Harry's 18th tattoo]

You can see the same flash sheets in the mirror next to Harry's arm as in this picture from Freddy's instagram account.

Meta: Louis was most likely with him on this night. He is in the far right side of the picture. You can see his butt, legs and shoes with his rolled jeans.

Here Louis is carrying the shoes from around the same time:

(the shoelace is not important to this...it was the only pic I could find)

Louis also tweeted "ouch :(" on the same night:

After this trip, Freddy Negrete responded to a fan via instagram [link not working anymore] that "Harry wanted "a big [tattoo]" on his chest when he was in LA again. 

Late September 2012:

2 Cross with K & M (Harry) - LS [Harry's 19th tattoo]

LOVE Banner (Harry) - LS [Harry's 20th tattoo]

Meta: These were done in late September, I think. It was after the drama masks but before the "Kiss You" video shoot which was late October. 

If Harry did, in fact, have a large chest piece in mind in early September, it's possible he may have been thinking of the birds by this point. It then might make sense that he would get the "LOVE" banner and then cover it up so soon afterwards. It could have been a part of his design. This is a Liam Sparkes design that includes birds placed similarly to Harry's with banners and the words "true" and "love" beneath:

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continued in Part 2

TIMELINE: TATTOOS TO DATE

This is organized by date. All tattoos are linked to photos, unless they are major tattoos I want to talk about, in which case I have inserted the photos into the post. (Special thanks to thelegohouselove and their wonderful tattoo masterposts with pictures)

Dates are dates I believe they actually got the tattoos. If I can’t find a date they got the tattoo, I have indicated it with a “*” which is the first date we saw the tattoo. 

Before we begin, fun facts that might blow your mind:

Harry has 56 tattoos that we know of.

Louis 38 tattoos that we know of. 

Harry got 30 of his 56 tattoos between June and October 2012. That’s, on average, about 8/month.

Louis got 10 of his 37 between October and December 2012. That’s, on average, about 5/month.

The most Harry ever got on one day is 4. He got 13 in a 7 day period in October 2012. The most Louis ever got on one day was 5 on February 25 of 2013.

Artist counts for Harry: Tom Atkins (10); Liam Sparkes (10); Freddy Negrete (8); Kevin Paul (3). 

Artist counts for Louis: Skunx (7); Liam Sparkes (4); Freddy Negrete (4).

Some of this stuff isn’t an exact science. Some of it is me making an educated guess, especially involving some of Harry’s tattoos in October and Louis’ “The Rogue” vs. “It is what it is” and Harry’s 3 Nails. So bear that in mind. 

Over all, this should give you a good idea of just how much the tattoos seem to be an outlet during highly-closeted and stressful times (Harry’s June-October spree that gave way to the birds, ship & compass and butterfly and Louis’ October-December Haylor spree), not only in date alone, but also in the subject of the tattoo.

Thank you to Kerry, Jess & awesomeanonfriend for the cheerleading and fact-checking and Angela for her insight. 

Let’s do this.

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Room 5 - Nicholas Alexander Chavez x fem!reader

summary: (Y/N) escapes to a quaint little hotel by the beach for a few days. On the first night, she realizes that the hot guy in the neighboring room is a... loud guy, and she finds that she can't seem to escape him no matter where she goes.

warnings: 18+, voyeurism (auditory), self-masturbation, fingering, unprotected p in v, cursing

required listening: 24 Hours by Sky Ferreira

word count: 17,415

a/n: sorry this one is so long (compared to my other fics), but I just had too much fun writing this one. I honestly could've gone writing more. If anything, I can just add on, but I think I wrapped a nice, little bow on this one. I hope you guys like it, and I would appreciate any and all feedback!! pls enjoy :)

reblogs and likes are appreciated and lets me know if you'd like to see more!

The boutique hotel looked absolutely adorable, white brick on the outside and only two stories — a tiny café and gift shop downstairs and the rooms up top, just steps away from the ocean. It sat between two tall condo buildings, which mostly housed an older crowd of out-of-state tourists.

I was in search of the perfect place for a weekend getaway, and this place seemed to check all the boxes. It wasn’t near any of the busy beach accesses where all of the rowdy high schoolers seemed to hang out at, and the pictures of the café seemed like it was straight out of an interior designer’s Pinterest board. This place, The Pearl, seemed perfect.

Actually, I had been looking forward to this weekend for a long while, having booked this trip about a month ago. Funnily enough, I lived just 30 minutes away from the beach but never had the time to just get away for a couple of days — until now.

After I checked in, I carried my weekend bag and backpack up the narrow staircase to the second floor, the wood creaking underneath my sandals. When I turned on the mid-level landing, that’s when I heard a second set of footsteps coming down from above. I turned my head up, my eyes falling on the drop-dead gorgeous man carefully shuffling down the steps.

Our shoulders brushed as I squeezed by with my luggage, the warmth of his skin sending a shiver that branched out from where our arms grazed.

“Sorry,” I whispered without missing a beat.

The guy smiled politely as he turned his head back, his big, brown eyes inviting, “You’re good.”

My heart skipped a beat hearing his warm, low voice. The stranger was ridiculously attractive, his muscles bulging out of the wife beater covering his torso, his tousled brown hair elegantly falling over his eyebrows. His smile, though, was what made my skin prickle — a wide, genuine grin that showed off his perfectly white teeth behind his pink lips.

I returned a polite smile, continuing my journey up the stairs before he could notice my blushing cheeks. When I arrived to the top of the landing, I saw that the second floor was T-shaped, the rooms in ascending order the further I walked down the hallway.

I turned the corner, immediately sensing the change in atmosphere compared to the row of rooms I had just passed. This section of the hallway seemed much more secluded, quiet, possibly because, indeed, it was in its own corner of the floor away from all the other rooms.

I passed by the one other door in the hall, reaching my room — 6 — at the end where a singular window accented the softly-lit hallway. Setting my bags down, I fumbled for my phone, scrolling through my text messages with the hotel manager for the code to my door. I appreciated the fact that the rooms had a code to enter instead of a plastic key card that I could lose in the sand.

As I input the code into the lock, the wooden staircases creaked as a set of footsteps became louder and louder making their way toward me. It was the same handsome man I had brushed shoulders with earlier, a backpack slung over his shoulder as he approached the only other door, room 5.

Our eyes met briefly, a flicker of recognition in his. “Good night, neighbor,” he said with a slight nod, that same smile that made my chest warm flashing across his face as he made his way inside his room, the heavy door falling closed behind him.

I let go of the breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. What are the odds the hot guy and I were staying next to each other? 1 in 5 it seems.

Shaking off the butterflies fluttering around my stomach, I finished inputting the code and dragging my bags inside the freezing room, stopping to admire the details of what my hard-earned paycheck had managed to spoil me with. The room was quaint, a neutral island color palette — the large bathroom and queen-sized bed to my right and the 70” flatscreen tv and closet on the shared wall to my left, a built-in marble counter all along the bottom.

The bathroom was my favorite: an art-deco flair with hints of coastal influence. The full shower was astounding in the best way possible — a beautiful mosaic pattern along the whole wall, double shower heads on opposite ends, and with enough space to possibly fit maybe 5 people. I could literally walk about ten steps between the two shower heads.

I walked back out to the room, setting my bags on the counter and starting to unpack, not in any particular rush to venture outside. As I organized my stuff — bikinis, pajamas, toiletries — I turned on the tv, flipping through channels and settling on HBO, Black Swan playing a few minutes in.

Enthralled by the movie and remembering I had a few snacks in my backpack, I changed into my pajamas and dug out a box of Lady Godiva chocolates from my backpack, climbing into bed and stretching out my arms and legs, excited to start my weekend getaway.

At some point, I had drifted off with a chocolate in my hand only to be awoken by a sound. I didn’t know what it was at first, choosing to ignore it and keeping my eyes closed, hoping I’d drift back to sleep. But it persisted, and it wasn’t a sound I had expected to hear — a woman’s moans.

My eyes fluttered open, thinking it might’ve been coming from the tv. After all, Black Swan did have a sex scene. However, I found the tv to be off. Maybe I had forgotten I turned it off myself before drifting off to sleep. Then, a low, drawn-out groan rumbled through, clear as day.

Oh.

Oh.

My cheeks flushed, burning at the realization of what I was hearing. I mean, I know a boutique hotel might not have the same amenities as a more established hotel chain, but you’d think thicker walls would have been a forethought. How could somebody planning to open a hotel not have thicker walls?

Again, I heard the moaning, and there was only one other room in the hallway that they could be coming from — room 5, the hot guy. I sat up in bed, heart pounding as I processed what was happening in the room behind the tv. The sounds were so clear you’d think they were having sex in the hallway.

In fact, I thought just that. There was no way that was happening right? I walked up to my room door and carefully peeked my head out, finding the hallway empty.

I retreated back into my room, my heart racing. Any other person would’ve probably turned the tv back on, or put on some headphones, something to block out the sounds, but what I did, I couldn’t tell anyone else about. I stood frozen, listening. I listened past the rhythmic porn-like moaning of the faceless woman, instead focusing on the low rumble of the hot neighbor guy’s voice.

The closet that shared a wall with his room beckoned my name, tempting me to inch closer. Before I knew it, my bare feet were shuffling toward the closet door, quietly swinging it open. The space was small, just big enough to fit a luggage rack and a few hangers up top, but the rhythmic thumping and guttural groans just behind the plaster called out to me.

Carefully, I leaned over the luggage rack, pressing my cheek against the cold, white wall. Every sound was clearer now — the creak of the bed slowing to a stop, the huffing coming from my neighbor, and the yelps coming from the mysterious lady. I could even make out some words.

“Bend over,” my neighbor spoke, his voice deep and seductive.

My stomach twisted hearing him speak in such a commanding yet intimate manner. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that a stranger so polite in passing could be so primal behind closed doors; though, wasn’t everyone?

“You’re so huge, Nicholas,” the mystery lady spoke back.

I know I shouldn’t have been listening, but I was just so enthralled. Did they know just how thin the walls are, assuming they’d block out most sound like I did? I couldn’t imagine someone knowing the walls were thin and still choosing to have sex, especially knowing there was an occupied room next door.

The plaster was cool under my cheek, refreshingly so as I could feel myself becoming warmer and warmer. The sounds of their erotic encounter seemed to vibrate through the wall, through me. Without noticing, I had squeezed my thighs together, my hand finding its way at the band of my pajama pants. As soon as I felt my fingertip slip under my underwear, I was jolted out of my trance. What was I doing?

Before I could feel any more guilty for lingering longer than I should’ve, I pulled myself away from the wall and scampered back toward the bed, choosing to ignore what was going beyond next door, my heart racing. Grabbing my headphones from my nightstand and slipping them on, I threw myself into the sheets and turned on my white noise playlist. But as much as I forced myself to focus on the therapeutic noise, my imagination wandered, picturing the faces my neighbor — Nicholas — might be making right now as he pleasured the woman accompanying him. Before I knew it, though, I had managed to fall asleep.

In the morning, I made my way down the staircase to the hotel’s tiny café, eager to start my day with a light, sweet breakfast. As I descended down the last few steps, I looked over to the sea of tables, hesitation in my heels as my eyes landed on Nicholas sitting by his lonesome as he enjoyed a cup of steaming coffee in one hand and a beat-up book in the other.

Swallowing the thought of what I did, and listened to, last night, I walked past him and approached the café counter, the smell of warm croissants and muffins enveloping my nostrils, a temporary distraction that I was grateful to experience.

“Hi,” I politely smiled to the employee, “Can I just get an Italian crème croissant with a hot green tea, please?” I quietly asked, not wanting to interrupt the quiet, calm atmosphere for the patrons of the café. 

The barista nodded her head, inputting my order into the tablet register, “We’ll send it over to your table,” she smiled.

I slipped her the money for my breakfast, smiling, “Thank you so much,” and making my way through the slew of empty tables.

I settled in at the corner table on the opposite end of the room, wanting to be as far away from Nicholas as possible to avoid any awkward conversations. Though, I may have chosen the worst table for my plan, accidentally giving myself a clear, unobstructed view of Nicholas from across the room.

His hair was damp, not purposefully styled in any particular way but still somehow falling over his eyebrows in such a perfect manner. He wore a loose flannel with a few buttons loose, the shirt billowing open to tease just enough of the gold cross chain draping over the sculpted valley between his chest.

He hadn’t noticed me yet, completely enthralled by what he was reading — Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller. I was stunned by his choice of literature. There was an old fellow a few tables down reading the newspaper to get his local news, meanwhile this guy, Nicholas, was probably on some page where the author is describing, in excruciating honesty, a night he had with a prostitute just as easily as one could describe their morning routine. In a way, I was impressed, curious.

As I waited for my breakfast, fiddling with my fingers, occasionally looking at my phone, my eyes would glance over toward Nicholas, my gaze lingering just a beat too long. The way he achingly turned the page, the tip of his finger playing at the corner of the paper, or the way he’d carefully bring the mug of coffee up to his lips — it was all so titillating.

Thankfully, though, the barista came over with a small pot of piping hot tea and my croissant, interrupting my trance and carefully setting down the items in front of me. Just as she left, my eyes flickered up to Nicholas to find that he had glanced up from his book, a polite smirk at the corner of his lips when his eyes met mine, lifting his mug in a silent, “Cheers.”

Not sure if I should wave or say hi or flash a toothy smile, I settled for a polite closed-mouth smile, lifting my mug back at him before quickly focusing my attention to the food in front of me as my cheeks grew warm. The greeting wasn’t graceful at all, but how could I focus on being graceful knowing I eavesdropped on his privacy just last night? If I was awkward at all, I figured it was my subconscious trying to punish me.

I served myself some tea and picked at my croissant as I looked out the window to the occasional family or couple walking down the street, all carrying their beach items and taking their time to get to the sand. I’d even glance around to the other patrons at the café. Though, I think part of me wanted to see if any of the girls would join Nicholas at his table and reveal herself to be the high-pitched moaner from last night. However, nobody ever did join him. Was he here alone? Or maybe she had taken the morning to be by herself.

Every impulse in me was begging me to take just one more look at Nicholas, to savor his image one last time, but I fought it. Everything except anything in Nicholas’s direction became intriguing to me. The checkered tile on the ground, the promotional poster on the window that I could barely read because of the sunshine striking through it, the older fellow enjoying his newspaper — I didn’t think I’d find myself focusing on the details of such things trying to avoid the gaze of some guy I had talked to for no more than 10 seconds, maybe less.

When I finished up, I quietly tidied the table, collecting all of the dishes and brushing off any crumbs, making my way out of the café and toward my car.

The breeze was refreshing, a nice whisper against my cheeks. I opened the trunk, staring at all of the beach gear I had to carry by myself. It was a struggle, but I managed to carry everything in both my arms — umbrella, picnic, basket, beach chair, headphones, blanket — using every crevice of my upper body to anchor something to me so it wouldn’t fall on the way over.

Thankfully, the beach access was right next to the hotel, and the path to the open sand wasn’t too long. When I got to the end of the path, I was grateful for having woken up early for the opportunity to pick a spot in an otherwise empty beach, a few umbrellas and chairs here and there from the condo occupants. I chose a spot that didn’t have any people too close by for maximum relaxation, carefully setting everything down on the sand.

I stabbed my pink, frilly cabana umbrella into the ground, laying out my beach blanket and beach chair in the shade, sliding everything else onto the corners of the blanket so the breeze wouldn’t pick the fabric up and blow sand toward me.

The water was calling my name, the light green water perfectly sparkling against the morning sun. But before I could strip my clothes off and jump in, I looked around to see if anybody would be looking as I pulled off my clothes. I didn’t see anybody particularly interested in my arrival, so I quickly pulled off my jean shorts and tee to reveal my glittery brown bikini set underneath. Before I became too hyper aware of my body, I walked toward the water, instead letting the feeling wash over me just as the waves of deliciously cold seawater did.

The occasional squawk of seagulls, the sun warming up my skin as it rose higher and higher in the sky and the sound of the waves crashing was all perfect. This moment was all I wanted out of this weekend. No distractions, no work — just me and the ocean. Needless to say, I was very excited to be able to repeat this routine for the next couple of days. 

I continued walking into the water until I was chest-deep to let the ocean devour me whole. The feeling that a wave could crash over me entirely was exhilarating. The water slowly picked me up by my feet as I hopped around.

I lingered for a few more minutes in the water, splashing water around or searching for little fish before stepping back out once my fingers started to wrinkle. As I strutted out of the water, though, I saw the familiar shape of somebody relaxing in a chair just a few feet next to my umbrella — Nicholas.

I shouldn’t be surprised. I mean, he was a guest in the hotel, too, after all. Why else would someone book a room in a hotel by the beach if they wouldn’t find themselves relaxing in the sand? But did he have to set up next to me when there was an entire football field of available space?

Meekly and careful not to trip or stumble on the way over, I walked toward my umbrella, fighting the urge to steal a glance at Nicholas, but from the corner of my eye I could see he sat there with his chest exposed. I had to let myself give in; what was the harm in a little peek?

He sat reclined in his chair, his skin deliciously glistening under the killer sun as he took it in. His hair was lightly brushing across his face from the sea breeze, like Mother Nature herself was playing with his hair. Nicholas’s long legs stretched out in front of him, his feet digging slightly into the sand. Both hands rested lazily on the arm of the chair, open. It was like he wanted to take up as much space as he could. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes; I couldn’t tell where he was looking or if he was looking anywhere at all. He radiated a kind of tranquility, as if the ocean had washed away any burdens he carried, something I hoped to experience myself this weekend.

I realized I was staring, my breath caught somewhere between awe and curiosity. I darted my eyes away, afraid I might be caught, which is absolutely the last thing I want.

Growing cold from the breeze brushing my wet skin, I grabbed my towel, drying myself off and squeezing the water out of my hair, mindful of turning myself from Nicholas so as to not flick any water droplets his way or have him think I was trying to grab his attention deliberately. Maybe he just sat there without knowing he had set up next to me. After all, I was in the water this entire time.

As I settled in, I brushed my wet hair over the back of my chair and reached for my picnic basket, pulling out my headphones, sunglasses, and my current read, White Oleander. I didn’t want to distract myself with any energetic music, instead opting to listen to the White Oleander movie soundtrack for the perfect accompaniment to the book.

I read through the chapter I had left off in, but I found myself having to reread some paragraphs, even entire pages, every time I saw Nicholas shift in his seat from the corner of my eye every few seconds. Even the way he jittered his knee up and down was distracting, almost like he wanted to grab my attention. After some minutes, he stood up from his chair, letting out a groan as he slowly stretched his arms and walked toward the water, and I silently thanked the universe for finally letting me have a few minutes to myself.

Though, I couldn’t help but occasionally glance up from my book to observe Nicholas in the water. The sun accentuated his muscles in an almost picturesque way, the stark shadow falling under each crevice of his body perfectly. He cut through the water like a knife as he walked deeper and deeper in the water, splashing water over his chest and shoulders, eventually dipping himself under the water to wet his hair. When he reemerged, the surface broke with a powerful splash, Nicholas throwing his head back and brushing his hair back with his hands.

Shaking myself out of Nicholas’s trance, I buried myself back in my book, trying not to look back up to him and letting myself get lost in the story, and for a while, I did. However, the universe seemed to like playing cruel jokes. About two chapters later, a shadow crossed my face. Curious to know if it was a bird or somebody’s umbrella flying away, I looked up to find Nicholas standing in front of me with a small grin.

“Good book?” He asked, drying his hair with a towel.

Shocked, I almost couldn’t form any words, but I managed to spit out a normal-sounding sentence, “Uh, so far, yeah, but I’m more familiar with the movie.”

“I’ve never seen it,” he confessed, dragging the towel up and down his dripping torso, almost deliberately. “Do you recommend it?”

I was quiet first, trying to clear my head of any thoughts of the night before that kept replaying in my mind. My eyes drifted up from his torso to the smile on his face, his straight white teeth in full show. Thank god I had my sunglasses on

“Totally. The dialogue in that movie is…” I trilled my lips, searching for the right word, “poignant.”

“Sounds raw,” he threw the towel over his shoulder, resting his hands on his hips, his lat muscles flexing outward like wings. “Is it your favorite movie?” He asked as he sat down in his chair, shifting until he found a comfortable position.

“One of,” I replied, turning my head to face him.

“I’ll check it out then,” he smiled, grabbing Tropic of Cancer out from under his chair and spreading it open.

“There’s a movie on that one, too,” I pointed to the book in his hands.

“Really?” He cocked an eyebrow, looking at the cover of the paperback, like he had forgotten what book he was reading. But then, a cheeky grin grew on his lips, “Did you like it?”

I couldn’t help but stifle a chuckle, knowing what Nicholas had meant. “I wouldn’t know; I’ve never seen it,” I smiled, turning my head back to the book in my hands, having almost forgotten about it.

All I heard back from him was a quiet chuckle before he settled back into his chair, the both of us reading their respective books.

After a half hour, I tossed the book and my sunglasses back into the basket and walked out over to the water. I paused at the dry edge of the sand, letting the water nip at my toes, trying not to picture Nicholas behind me. He could have been glancing at me as I made my way over, but he could also be looking at the sky, or the book in his hands, or maybe even his phone. As much as I wanted to peek over my shoulder, I continued forward, letting the sea swallow me.

I lingered, brushing my fingertips over the surface as I planted myself in knee-deep water, clutching the sand underneath my toes as it dissolved under me. As the water hugged my calves, I searched the water for anything I could find — maybe a lost pair of sunglasses, some little fishes, or maybe a conch laying at the bottom of the ocean floor. To no avail, I slowly started to retreat from the water, picking my head up to find Nicholas was looking forward, hiding behind his sunglasses again.

I didn’t let the fact he was looking over to my direction affect my ability to walk properly. After all, he could be looking past me. Maybe under those sunglasses he had his eyes closed. I wouldn’t know. However plausible any of those situations were, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched.

Upon approaching my chair, I wrapped myself in the damp towel, deciding that my time at the beach for today would be over for now. Slowly, I started to pack up my things, but I honestly didn’t know how I was gonna carry everything back now that I was damp and shivering. I tried juggling some of the things in my arms, but occasionally something would slip from my grasp. I really tried not to seem so helpless, but when the umbrella slipped out from under my arms with a loud thump, I knew keeping up that ruse wouldn’t work.

“Need help?” I heard Nicholas’s voice behind me.

I turned around, catching him push his sunglasses to the top of his head to show off his crinkled eyes, smiling. It seemed to be more from amusement at watching me struggle, not smiling from politeness.

I struggled to hold onto everything in my arms, “No,” I shook my head, laughing nervously. “I mean, I managed to bring everything over in the morning.”

An exhale escaped his lips before he tossed the book to the sand and stood up from his chair, making his way over with a satisfied look, “Let me help.”

I bit my lip, debating if I should let him help or to just push him away so I wouldn’t have that constant reminder of hearing him have sex in my head. Before I could answer, though, Nicholas grabbed the beach chair out from under my arm and picked the umbrella up off the floor.

“Thank you,” I mumbled as I adjusted the remaining items in my arms, now much more manageable without having to carry the bigger things.

“No problem,” he spoke in a low tone, that same tone I overheard when he said ‘Bend over’ to the woman in his bed last night.

My breath caught in my throat. Suddenly, I felt inexplicably warm, like the back of my neck was on fire. His expression was soft, casual, like the same man I had run into in the hallway yesterday, not at all like the man I heard in his room in a false sense of privacy.

We walked back toward the hotel, the sand kicking up behind us with every step. I was too afraid to say anything to him at all after remembering the way he spoke to his late night companion.

“So, are you from around here?” He spoke up, his voice cutting the tension that only I seemed to be aware of.

“Kind of,” I replied, hiding my face behind my damp hair, “I live 30 minutes out. I just came here on a solo-trip for a few days to escape. You?” I didn’t expect the question to slip from my lips, but in a way, I guess, I wanted to coax information out of him. Maybe if I knew more about him, that pang of guilt in my stomach would leave on its own.

He stifled a chuckle, “Not at all. I’m from Colorado, actually.”

I raised an eyebrow, surprised at the answer, “Wouldn’t California beaches be closer to you, maybe even look better than this old shore?” I looked back out into the beach, admiring its charm, but even then, I know it wouldn’t compare to a California beach.

“Actually, I live in LA, so I go out there all the time. I guess, I just wanted to visit a different place,” he answered.

I was surprised at his honesty, but I scoffed, not believing that any person from out of town would want to come here willingly, “Well, you picked a different place, indeed. Not much goes on around here, except when it’s spring break.”

Nicholas stifled a warm chuckle, “Yeah, I think I read that online.”

A part of me wanted to prod. Was he single? Who was that girl from last night? Another guest? The only appropriate question that I could think of that didn’t sound too suspicious was, “Are you here on a solo-trip, too?”

He nodded his head, “Yeah, I do a lot of solo travel. There’s a certain freedom in not having to worry about anyone else except yourself.”

I glanced over to him and saw a smirk playing at the corner of his lips as he looked over to me. Something fluttered in my chest, or maybe it was just the droplets of water trailing down from my head.

“Sounds liberating,” I managed to spurt out before the long pause became too awkward.

“It is, but sometimes it’s nice to share it with someone else, even for a little bit,” he said, his words hanging in the air.

I didn’t dare reply. I wasn’t sure if he was alluding to our current moment or maybe to the similar encounters of last night he has with women during his trips. Of course, there’s no way he’d know that I knew what he did behind closed doors, but what if he did?

“Yeah,” I absentmindedly agreed to his statement, eager to cut the conversation short.

We arrived at my car. I opened the trunk with my keys that were in my picnic basket, watching as Nicholas bent over to place the umbrella and chair inside, then grabbing everything from my arms and setting them beside each other, closing the trunk.

“My name’s Nicholas,” he held his hand out for me to shake.

That’s when I realized that he had never introduced himself. The only reason I knew his name was because I had my ear pressed against the wall just as his lady friend from last night had moaned it out of her lips.

I hesitated for just a fraction of a second before breaking through that one-sided tension and reaching out to shake his hand, his warm palm sending a shiver up my arm, “(Y/N),” I introduced myself, meeting his gaze for a second or two before looking down at my feet.

“Pretty name,” he smiled.

Blushing, I shyly said, “Thanks,” retreating my hand from his grasp and whipping back a strand of wet hair behind me.

Nicholas lingered a moment longer, the soft curve of his smile inviting me to hold his gaze. “Any chance you’d wanna get a drink later?”

I blinked, my mind scrambling for a response as the question hung between us. This stranger, Nicholas, was never meant to be more than just some nameless blur that happened to also be a guest at the same hotel I was staying. We were only supposed to bump into each other a few times in the hallway, never going into conversation and being fine with that. Now, here he was, asking me if I wanted to have a drink with him.

I kicked my feet nervously, looking down, afraid to look him in the eye as I turned down his offer, “Actually, I have plans.”

His brow lifted slightly, an amused look on his face. “Solo plans?” he asked, clearly poking fun at my earlier words.

I couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, despite my nerves. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Fair enough,” he said, his tone casual but with a glimmer of understanding. “But if you change your mind…” he leaned in the tiniest bit, some tiny droplets from his hair dripping onto my skin, “you know where I’m staying,” a mischievous smirk at the end of his lips.

I felt my stomach jump at his words, catching the double meaning. He lingered a bit too long, like he was testing me, before he pulled back, still smirking.

I nodded, “Yeah, I’ll let you know if I change my mind.”

I watched as he walked past, sauntering back toward the beach. The way his shoulders shifted as he walked, relaxed yet deliberate, made it impossible to look away. The nerve of him, the audacity to be this calm, this magnetic. Maybe it’s because I’m never forward with people I just met, especially if I think they’re attractive, but I couldn’t wrap my head around the swagger Nicholas oozed. It was like he was aware of the effect he had on me.

Desperate to wash away the sand in my crevices, I trotted toward the hotel entrance, going up the stairway and to my room. I felt relief when the cold air of the room hit my face, pulling my hair away from the back of my neck so the air could creep its way and bring some relief to my flustered self. My head buzzed, replaying anything having to do with Nicholas — the way he dried his towel in front of me, his soft chuckles, even the way he walked.

Get it together, (Y/N). He’s just a guy. Just a guy you won’t see ever again after this weekend. Ever.

I sighed, dragging myself to the shower and stripping the wet bikini off my body and letting it fall to the floor without a second thought.

I was grateful the shower was huge, that way I didn’t feel as suffocated with the warm water steaming up the glass. However, each time I closed my eyes to let the water fall on my face, all I could picture was Nicholas’s charming smile, all I could hear in my head was the way he said ‘Bend over’ to the girl in his bed last night, and suddenly, I could feel a tension pool low in my belly.

Fed up, I turned the faucet knob to cold, shuddering and gasping loudly the moment it fell down my spine. It might’ve been drastic, but it did help. All I could focus on was trying not to tremble under the cold stream of water enveloping me instead of focusing on a certain man.

Once I was done with my shower, I wrapped my hair and body in a towel each, padding out into the cold room, my ankles shuddering at the cold floor beneath me. I changed into a casual set of clothes, thinking I’d probably go out for a walk later. As I dried my hair with the towel, I made my way over to the window, looking out toward the beach to see Nicholas still lounging out in the sand. He was splayed out on the chair, legs wide open as he leaned back and looked out into the water.

Tired of my mind drifting to him, I jumped into bed and put on my headphones, opening up Hulu to catch up on shows. Before I knew it, hours had gone by and it had become nightfall.

I walked to my luggage resting on the built-in counter, zipping it open to pull out a bag of chips I had bought before arriving. That’s when I heard a light knock on my door. I froze at the sound, too scared to shuffle over and check who it was.

“(Y/N), you there?” I heard Nicholas’s voice call out. I didn’t answer, standing still, my heart almost pounding out of my chest. “If you are, I’m heading over to the bar across the street, if you wanna join me,” he calmly spoke through the door, his voice cool and collected.

After a bit, I heard his feet shuffle away, becoming fainter and fainter. I still didn’t dare move an inch, paranoid he might’ve pulled a fake-out and is actually still standing outside my door. I sat on the counter, debating his invitation, but I decided against it. I’m not exactly sure why; any other girl would already have been out the door by now. I just had to trust my gut on this.

Later that night, at about 1:30AM, I found myself still awake, quietly scrolling Instagram on my phone. That’s when I heard the loud giggles of a woman outside in the hall, followed by a deep shush, the giggles falling to a quiet mumble as I heard a door open and quickly fall closed. I ignored the sounds, continuing to scroll and catch up on posts I missed during the day.

Some minutes pass by, about 10. That’s when I heard the bed on the other side begin to thump against the wall, a lady slowly starting to moan. The moans sounded different, belonging to another woman. Then, the all-too-familiar grunts coming from Nicholas started to join in.

I couldn’t reach for my headphones to drown out the sounds of sex coming from the other side; my headphones had died just 30 minutes earlier, now charging on the outlet above the counter. Tossing and turning in bed, I burrowed myself under the covers, hoping it would make some barrier, but to no avail.

Irritated, I walked over to the counter, checking to see if my headphones had any juice that I could use even for just a few minutes until I fell asleep. Just as I reached to disconnect them from their charger, that’s when I heard Nicholas’s voice rumble through the wall.

“You’re so hot,” he said, his tone thick with pleasure.

I stood there frozen, my hand still hovering over my headphones. The more I heard Nicholas speak, the more I found myself inching closer toward the closet. My heart was racing, beating faster the moment I opened the closet doors, carefully stepping inside and resting my cheek against the shared wall.

I knew I shouldn’t have been listening in, again, but I couldn’t stop myself. It was this urge that I had to follow through with. I closed my eyes for a moment, listening past the girly moans and searching for Nicholas’s voice. My chest grew tighter, my thoughts beginning to spiral.

“Just like that,” he growled.

Had I said yes to drinks, would that have been me in there? Would I be the one moaning under him instead of the mystery girl inside? My stomach tightened at the thought, frustrated. I’m not sure why I was letting it get to me like that. Maybe because hindsight is always twenty-twenty. But just knowing that it might’ve been me Nicholas said all those things to had I just agreed to drinks… It drove me crazy.

“Say my name.”

My body tensed at his words. Somewhere between spiraling and intrigued by the events happening on the other side, I had closed my eyes, achingly moving my hand to my shorts, slipping it under the waistband. What if I just pretended it was me he was saying all those things to?

I clenched my teeth, feeling a heat bubbling low in my belly as it slowly rose up to my chest. The sound of Nicholas’s voice; he sounded so close yet we were separated by this thin wall. It was maddening. I slipped my fingers under my underwear, grazing them over my damp self. I covered my mouth with my other hand, proactive about not wanting to be heard from the other side just as I heard them.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Nicholas groaned on the other side.

My breathing became deep, my nostrils pushing out all the air that couldn’t leave my mouth. As my fingers found my throbbing bud, I quietly whimpered out, pretending Nicholas was saying those words to me. I rubbed myself in small circles, bucking my hips into my fingers.

On the opposite side of the wall, Nicholas’s groaning had become guttural, primal. The more the headboard thumped against the shared wall, the more powerful his movements had become. At one point, I thought something might fall off the wall from my side of the room.

As I slipped a finger, then another, inside myself, my breathing became erratic. I imagined Nicholas taking me, right now as I am, hard at the thought that I had been listening in on his sexual escapades. Maybe he’d push me up against the wall, cornering me so that I might not escape him. He seems like the type to want to be in control, and I’d be happy to give it to him.

I pumped my fingers slowly, at first, but then picked up the speed to match the thumping on the wall. The tension in me began to build tighter and tighter. I was so close to collapsing in pleasure, but the moment I heard a loud moan escape the woman’s lips from the other side, I was taken out of my imagination completely, remembering that it wasn’t me he was having sex with.

My eyes ripped open, realizing what I had been doing. I pulled my fingers out and collected myself, shamefully walking out of the closet and reaching for the headphones on the counter. I couldn’t believe that I had been pleasuring myself to the sounds of somebody else having sex. Even more embarrassingly so, I didn’t even arrive to a climax, so I couldn’t even say it was worth it.

I climbed back into bed, trying hard to ignore the sounds coming from the other side and slipping on my headphones, putting on anything that would distract my mind.

The next day, I didn’t wake up as early as I had liked. I ended up falling asleep pretty late, almost 2:30 in the morning, which was not my usual bedtime, clearly. But it was 12PM, still enough time to enjoy a light brunch before officially starting the day.

I changed into some loose clothes, making my way down to the café. Even though I felt guilty about last night, I felt ok enough to confidently walk into the café knowing Nicholas wouldn’t be there. Either he’d be too tired from his late night drinking and stayed in, or he would’ve started his day earlier and already had his coffee for the day. And when I entered the area, I found myself to be correct. He wasn’t there.

Comfortably, I ordered the same meal from yesterday, a croissant and a pot of tea, taking my seat at the same table. What can I say, I’m a creature of habit. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

Almost as soon as I sat down, the barista came over with my things, setting them down with a polite smile. Tired and hungry, I pulled a chunk out of the croissant and placed it into my mouth, savoring its sweet taste. I enjoyed my first meal of the day calmly and slowly, relaxed to know I wouldn’t bump into Nicholas right now. Maybe I’d have a few hours to myself before I did. But of course, my peace was short-lived.

As I picked at my food, the front door to the hotel chimed. I was too focused on pouring myself the last few ounces of tea into my mug to look up, but I didn’t have to. A familiar presence approached my table, “Mind if I join you?” Nicholas asked.

I looked up, my eyes locking onto his. He had that oh-so charming smile plastered on his face — innocent, as if he wasn’t the one partially responsible for keeping me up late.

“Sure,” I said, pulling the pot away from my mug.

He pulled up a chair from the neighboring table, sitting down across from me while his gaze flickered down at my half-eaten croissant. “You like taking your time, don’t you?”

I felt a rush of heat creeping up the back of my neck at his casual teasing. He was wearing a faded tee, not from age but one that looked like it had been drying out in the sun too long, his gold cross chain hidden under the collar. I’m sure he looked good in anything he wore.

“Don’t you?” I asked without missing a beat.

Nicholas stifled a smirk, tapping his finger against the table, “So what’d you do last night?”

I almost choked on my own spit at the question, clearing my throat. Dear god, please let me not stumble over my words. “Not much, why?”

He sharply inhaled, like he was unsure if he should answer, “I had knocked on your door to invite you out to the bar again, but you didn’t answer.”

I stifled a chuckle, shrugging my shoulders, “Why? Were you afraid I was doing something better?”

Nicholas’s fingers played at the edge of my plate, smirking. “I figured you were out walking or something,” he smiled.

“Well, I planned to,” I picked at my croissant, ripping off a tiny piece and placing it in my mouth, “but I ended up staying in.”

“Oh? You stayed in?” He shifted in his seat, thinking about his next words. “Sleeping?”

I calculated my answer. I didn’t want him to be embarrassed about the fact that I could hear him having sex the past two nights. “Yeah, early night,” I kept it short, hoping he’d drop the subject or, at least, change the topic.

I wasn’t sure if he believed me, but I didn’t care to elaborate. His presence was disarming enough without dredging up last night’s… intrusive thoughts. Instead, I took another sip of tea and focused on not meeting his gaze.

“So, then why’d you come down here so late in the morning?” He asked, a grin playing at his lips.

I stumbled on my words, trying to find an answer, Nicholas becoming more amused and entertained the more I stumbled. Was he waiting around for me? Did he know his proclivities had kept me up? Did he know I could hear through the walls?

“Lazy morning,” I shrugged my shoulders. He stifled a chuckle, accepting my answer without too much kickback. “What about you?” I asked, turning the tables on him. “What did you get up to last night?”

His grin didn’t falter. If anything, it grew sharper, and he leaned forward just slightly, resting his forearms on the table. “Me? Nothing much,” his finger twiddled near my croissant, pushing around the tea spoon next to it, “I had a drink or two. A little company.” His eyes flickered up to meet mine.

I swallowed hard, the tension between us thickening. His choice of words hung in the air, deliberate and calculated. He knew exactly what he was doing dangling that tidbit of information in front of me, seeing if I’d bite, but I wasn’t going to.

Taking a sip of my tea, I pretended to brush off his words, “Sounds like you had fun,” I spoke casually, keeping my expression neutral.

Nicholas tilted his head, watching me closely. “I would’ve had even more fun, but I had some plans fall through,” he paused, “I had to improvise.”

Oh, the calculation in his words were driving me mad, especially because I didn’t want him to have the satisfaction of baiting a specific reaction out of me. Was I right? Could that have been me in his room last night if I decided to go out with him?

I set the cup down as calmly as I could manage, but inside, I was shaking, “Doesn’t seem like you had any trouble improvising, then.”

For a moment, Nicholas’s fingers stopped tapping against the plate, that infuriating smirk returning. He leaned back into his chair, amused, “You heard, didn’t you?“

My eyes nearly fell out of my head, but I tried to keep it cool, "Heard what?"

His laugh was soft but full of certainty. "Come on, (Y/N). I heard you watching a movie the other night. These walls,” he gestured lazily toward the ceiling, “are paper thin; it was like I was in your room watching it with you.” He leaned toward me, resting his arms on the table again, “That’s why you woke up late, isn’t it?"

God, I wanted to shrivel up and die right then and there. It was absolutely infuriating how he could figure me out so easily. But my suspicions were confirmed — he did know, this entire time, and he still decided to have loud sex knowing anybody in the neighboring room could hear. And he had no shame about it!

My face burned with embarrassment, and l avoided his gaze like my life depended on it. "I didn't hear anything," I stammered, lying so poorly I might as well have just admitted the truth. “I’m a deep sleeper.”

Nicholas tilted his head, that insufferable smirk deepening. “A deep sleeper, huh?” His voice dripped with amusement. He rested his chin in his palm as he studied me like I was some kind of puzzle. “Alright, I’ll take your word for it.”

My grip tightened on the edge of the table, desperate to regain some semblance of control.

“For what it's worth...” Nicholas pushed back his chair and stood, smiling down at me. He leaned down toward me, his tone softening just enough to send a shiver down my spine. "If I'd known you were listening, I might've put on a better show." He took a small bite of my croissant, dusting the crumbs off his hands and making his way toward the door, winking at me before he exited.

Unable to fathom what had just happened, I stayed planted in my seat. Did he seriously just say that? My thoughts spiraled. Was this a game to him? Could he tell just how truly flustered I was by his teasing? Was I really that easy to rile up?

I pushed my plate and mug away from me, hoping to regain some space to avoid feeling suffocated by the remnants of his presence that Nicholas had left behind in his wake. And yet, I couldn’t deny the pull he had on me. No matter how hard I tried to push it down, to deny the heat in my cheeks and the butterflies in my stomach, it was there. Nicholas was under my skin.

I tried to avoid running into him the rest of the day, to suffocate him out of me like one would a parasite, but to know you’re avoiding someone, you’d have to be on the lookout, on your toes. Every corner I turned, I checked to see if he was there. Every room I entered, I scanned around looking for his distinct tousled hair. On the beach, I hid behind my sunglasses, scanning the shore for the familiar build of him. Finding him nowhere, I relaxed a bit, choosing to free myself and going for a short walk along the water.

I let the water lap around my ankles, rhythmically enveloping them as I slowly walked along the borderline empty beach. I picked up a few shells that caught my eye — only the colorful, unique ones. In fact, I kept walking, walking, and walking until it became evening, the sun setting over the beach, slowly but surely.

I returned to my spot, sitting back and admiring the colors of the sky. In fact, I was so relaxed, huddled under my towel, that I may have yawned once or twice. As I continued to look out into the horizon, I felt a cold tap on my shoulder, turning my head up to see who was interrupting my moment of relaxation. Of course, by now, I already knew who.

Nicholas stood there, towering over me with a pair of beers in his hand, holding one out for me. “Pretty, right?” He asked with a smile, looking out into the purple water.

I glanced at the beer in his outstretched hand before shifting my gaze to his face, the fading sunlight casting an orange glow over his sharp features. I kept my expression neutral, taking the beer from him without a word. He took that as an invitation to plop down in the space next to me, stretching his legs out and taking a sip from his can.

We sat there in silence for a while, the only sounds being the gentle crash of waves and the occasional chatter of distant beachgoers. It was… oddly peaceful, almost enough to make me forget about the tension that seemed to follow us — or should I say, me — like a shadow. Maybe, also, because I was a little sleepy.

“So, did you find what you were looking for today?” Nicholas asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

I frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

“You were walking up and down the beach for hours,” he said, motioning toward the small pile of shells I’d collected.

My mouth grew to a smile, cocky, “You were watching me for hours?”

For the first time, Nicholas stammered on his words, and it was a sight I was incredibly amused by. His head fell as he chuckled, maybe flustered that I had finally caught him in a moment instead of the other way around, “Yeah,” he nodded his head, his cheeks pink, “I was.”

I couldn’t help the smirk tugging at my lips. Watching him falter, even slightly, was a rare treat, one I planned to savor. “I can see why you like pushing people’s buttons now.”

“I don’t like pushing people’s buttons,” he said as he brought the beer to his lips, “just yours.”

It was insane just how quickly Nicholas could turn something back onto you. The admission was so casual, yet it hit me like a rogue wave. I stared at him, half-expecting him to laugh or brush it off as a joke, but he simply leaned back on his hands, eyes on the horizon like he hadn’t just set my pulse racing.

“I’m sure you say that to all your company,” I turned to face the water, sipping on my beer and trying to hide my flushed cheeks. I chose my words carefully, wanting to see how’d he react.

Nicholas let out a low chuckle beside me. “I don’t,” he said simply, his voice drawing me in despite myself. “Only you.”

I stole a quick glance at him, but he was already looking ahead, the way his profile caught the last rays of the setting sun, casting long shadows across his features. There was something magnetic about him, and the more time I spent around him, the more I couldn’t ignore it. He was confident, teasing, but there was something underneath, something deeper that made it hard to read him completely.

A part of me wanted to challenge him, maybe even keep him on his toes. But there was another part of me, the part I kept hidden, that wanted to give in to the tension, to see where it could lead. My mind raced with the possibilities, each thought contradicting the last, until I was sure I was overthinking every moment, every word we exchanged.

I cleared my throat and shifted my position in the chair, facing toward him completely. “Indulge me. What makes me so different that you just can’t help but push my buttons?”

He smiled, like he had an answer prepared since the moment we met, “You don’t give in easily, but you seem like the type to give yourself completely once you do.”

Nicholas’s words lingered in the air, making my pulse quicken. It was strange how effortlessly he could unravel me with just a few words. I tried to maintain my composure, but the quiet between us seemed to stretch longer than I was comfortable with. His words felt like a challenge,  but also like a promise. My mind kept drifting back to the night before, to the sounds of him on the other side of the wall.

“I’m not so sure about that,” I replied, keeping my voice steady, though it didn’t quite mask the undercurrent of uncertainty I was feeling.

Nicholas raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he shifted closer. “Really? Because there’s only so much pressure somebody can take before they start to crack.”

I wanted to say something sharp, something that would put distance between us, but his confidence was suffocating, almost intoxicating. I couldn’t seem to gather the words to shut him down. So, instead, I took another long sip from my beer, pretending to focus on the view ahead of me, though my mind was anything but at ease.

His smile widened, “Aren’t you cracking?”

For a moment, it felt like time stopped. The world seemed to fade into the background, and it was just the two of us, sitting there in the fading sunlight, with nothing but the sound of the waves and the sudden weight of his words hanging between us.

I cleared my throat, finishing my beer, “I don’t think so,” I said lightly, trying to mask the effect his words had on me.

“We’ll see about that then,” he finally said, his voice low and casual, though I could tell there was a hint of challenge in it.

I was almost afraid to look at him, afraid of what I might see in his eyes. But I couldn’t help it. Slowly, I turned my head, and our eyes met, the connection between us palpable. My head slowly started to move forward by itself, millimeter by millimeter, toward Nicholas. My heart raced faster and faster, it was practically thumping out of my chest when I realized that he was leaning in, too. Right as I was about to close my eyes to welcome whatever was about to happen, I heard a group of people loudly laugh as they passed by behind us. I quietly chuckled to myself, thinking that may be my cue to leave.

Satiating my dose of Nicholas for the day, I dusted myself off and stood up from the beach chair, handing him my empty beer bottle, “I guess we will,” I said, not too much of a challenge behind my words. I grabbed my chair and looked back at Nicholas with a friendly grin before walking off.

I couldn’t shake the feeling of Nicholas’s eyes on me, but I powered through, making my way to my room. The second I entered, I went to the bathroom and stripped off my sandy clothes, turning on the shower to warm myself up from sitting in the cool, evening breeze. The hot water streamed over my skin, washing away the lingering chill from the beach. I let out a deep breath, closing my eyes as the steam began to fill the space.

My mind wandered back to the conversation with Nicholas. His words replayed in my head, their weight sinking in a little deeper with each memory: We’ll see about that.

After my shower, I slipped into a cozy tee and shorts, feeling a bit more grounded. I sat by the window, towel drying my hair, watching the moonlight dance on the water. The calm of the night settled around me, but my mind was still restless.

To distract myself, I turned on the tv, not caring what was on but making sure to keep the sound at a reasonable volume to not disturb Nicholas but just loud enough that I might not hear tonight’s mystery woman moan through the wall.

As the night stretched on, I tried my best to focus on the random show playing on the screen, but my thoughts kept drifting. Every sound outside my window, every muffled thump from the hallway, made my heart race just a little faster thinking it might be Nicholas arriving to his room.

The hours ticked by. I hadn’t heard anything from his side of the wall yet — not a voice, not the creak of a bedframe, nothing. It was almost worse than the alternative. The anticipation was maddening. I half-wondered if he knew I was waiting, if he was deliberately drawing this out just to mess with me.

Finally, around midnight, I heard the faintest sound of a door opening and closing. My stomach twisted, though I wasn’t sure why. I told myself I didn’t care, that whatever he did wasn’t any of my business. There were a few thumps followed by a silence on the other side. I tried to focus on the tv but my ears seemed to be tuned in on what was going on the opposite side of the wall.

Minutes passed, and the silence persisted. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Nicholas had turned over a new leaf tonight, or maybe he just couldn’t hook himself a lady tonight. But just as my focus started to drift back to the tv, the silence was broken by a clear, unmistakable groan — Nicholas. I half-expected it to be followed by the high-pitched moan of a woman, like it was both nights prior, but it never came. 

I should’ve turned the volume up, drowned it out, or grabbed my headphones. Instead, I sat there, frozen, as the groaning grew louder — his voice, unmistakable and far too close for comfort. I hated how my body reacted. The heat in my cheeks, the way my chest tightened with every noise, the throbbing sensation between my thighs. I shook my head, trying to dispel the thought, but I let my curiosity get the best of me.

I slid off the bed and crept toward the closet, my heart pounding in my chest. My rational side screamed at me to stop, to mind my own business, but something about the sound of his voice pulled me in. But the little devil on my shoulder told me that I had already eavesdropped twice before, what’s one more time?

Opening the closet doors quietly, I leaned over the luggage rack and pressed my ear lightly against the cool surface of the wall, listening. The groans continued, low and guttural, accompanied by the light sound of a rhythmic wet slapping, sending an uninvited warmth through my body. It took a moment for me to realize there was no second voice, no telltale feminine giggle or breathy gasp. It was just Nicholas.

My breath caught in my throat. He's alone. The realization sent a shockwave through me, equal parts relief and something else I didn't want to name. He wasn't with anyone tonight. He was... taking care of himself.

I pressed my forehead against the wall, closing my eyes as his voice — raw, unguarded, and achingly intimate — filled my ears. My hand instinctively moved to my chest, clutching the fabric of my shirt as I fought the conflicting feelings that raced through me. However guilty I felt for listening in, I couldn’t pull myself away. I was entranced.

His groans deepened, interspersed with uneven breaths, and I felt my knees weaken. It was maddening how his voice seemed to reach right into me. My lips parted slightly, my breath shaky as my body betrayed me, responding to the sounds with a heat I tried desperately to ignore.

The wet slapping quickened, a whimper escaping his lips followed by erratic heavy breathing. I lost all inhibitions, slipping my hand under my underwear. I exhaled shakily, my head resting against the wall, feeling the vibrations of his voice travel through me. My fingers moved instinctively, slow and hesitant at first, matching the rhythm of the sounds spilling from him. Each groan, each sigh seemed to draw me deeper into a haze I couldn't escape.

My mind was a mess of contradictions: shame, desire, and something more dangerous — an unspoken connection, even if he didn't know I was there. I bit my lip, trying to stay as silent as possible, but the tension within me built with each passing moment, threatening to undo me entirely.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” Nicholas quickly whined out, followed by a loud moan.

I slipped my other hand under my shirt, kneading my breast, as my fingers worked my throbbing clit. I felt the rapid beat of my heart as it matched the rhythm of his breath. The heat between my legs intensified, and the sound of his voice grew louder in my ears, pulling me further into the spiral. His groans were rough, almost frantic now, and I could feel every pulse, every heavy breath reverberating through the wall like it was echoing through my very bones.

I tried to focus, tried to pull myself out of this situation before it became something I couldn't undo, but I couldn't stop. I couldn't pull away, couldn't shake the pull of him. I closed my eyes tightly, my fingers rubbing harder against my clit in frantic circles, then moving them lower and slipping my middle and ring finger inside of me. Desperate, I pulled my shorts off me, letting them land at my feet.

My own breathing became erratic, escaping through my nostrils as I tried to keep myself from making any sound, biting the inside of my cheek and shutting my eyes closed as I pleasured myself.

His voice broke through the haze of my thoughts again. "God... need you..."

The words, the desperation in them, sent me into a frenzy. I couldn’t hold in my voice any longer — a quiet, whimper escaping my lips as I pumped my fingers inside me, pretending they were Nicholas’s. I could feel the tension in me coiling tighter and tighter the more I heard him talk through his pleasure.

A high-pitched groan slipped out of him, the wet slapping quickening even more. I could almost picture him on the other side — laying down in the middle of his bed, shirtless. his legs dangling off as he tugged at himself, his eyes shut as he grabbed at his hair, giving in.

My breath hitched at the vivid image in my mind. It was a dangerous thought, but one that I desperately wished I was there to see.

I could almost hear the strained breath in his throat, as if he was on the edge, about to break. The thought alone sent an electric charge through me, spurring me to move faster, my fingers pressing deeper, matching the intensity of his own rhythm.

"Please," he moaned, his voice broken, raw with need. "Fuck..."

The vulnerability in his voice, so exposed, so real, made me lose all control. I found myself unable to think or reason anymore. I was lost in him, in the sound of his pleasure, and in the dangerous path I was walking.

His voice faltered, his groans growing more frantic, and that's when I felt it — the sudden wave of warmth, the rush of sensation sweeping over me. But just as I was reaching my peak, so was he. Nicholas let out a sound so intimate and raw that it sent a shiver down my spine. Then came a low, guttural groan followed by the unmistakable — my name.

“(Y/N)- fuck!”

It happened just as I was about to reach orgasm, but I was so startled to hear my name that my eyes shot open and I stumbled back from the wall, knocking over the luggage rack below with a solid thud as it tipped over. I tried to catch it before it hit the floor, stumbling to reach for it, but my effort was for naught. A deafening silence filled the room after the loud noise quickly settled. The only thing I could hear was the loud thumping coming from my chest, becoming faster as I realized my predicament.

My breath came in shallow gasps, my body stiff with tension, caught somewhere between shock and embarrassment. On the other side of the wall, there was a beat of complete silence. I held my breath, waiting to hear something — anything — but nothing came. Not a footstep, not a sound. My mind raced, praying that Nicholas might’ve not heard the ruckus through his climax. Don’t orgasms dull one’s senses?

And then, as if the silence was suffocating me, I heard it. A faint creak — Nicholas’s door, opening then closing with a heavy thud. My chest tightened, anxiety coursing through my veins. I stood there frozen, my legs completely unable to move as if I had stuck them in buckets of cement. I felt every inch of my skin burn with humiliation. That’s when I heard a knock at my door, not light like the day before. It sounded desperate. I couldn’t run; I couldn’t hide. Nicholas knew I was in here.

Slowly, I inched closer to the door, my hand trembling as I reached for the doorknob. I tried to swallow my nerves, but I couldn’t fight the fact that I felt like I wasn’t getting enough oxygen. I breathed heavily as I opened the door, clutching at the edge as my eyes fell on Nicholas’s heaving bare chest.

He stood there, his chest rising and falling, glistening from the thin layer of sweat that he had worked up. A slight satisfied grin played on his lips as his eyes trailed down my body, lingering on my bottom half as I stood there in nothing but my shirt and lacy underwear.

He didn't wait for an invitation, stepping inside as soon as the door cracked open, closing it behind him with a deafening click. We stood there, facing each other, the silence hanging thick in the air. I could barely meet his gaze, my cheeks still burning with humiliation. I stammered, hoping to explain myself with a pathetic excuse of a reason, but he interrupted me with a quiet shush, still smirking.

He placed a finger gently over his lips, his eyes dark with something unreadable. "No need to explain," he whispered, stepping closer, his presence dominating the space between us. My breath hitched as he closed the distance, cornering me against the wall, his body heat enveloping me, making my pulse race.

The air felt thick, suffocating, as if the room was closing in on me with every breath. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I couldn't quite figure out what to do with my hands, so I held them behind my back, pressing them against the wall.

“Were you listening in?” He asked, brushing his hand up my sides before it settled on my hip, my body trembling under his touch. It was everything I wanted him to do to me, and yet, I still felt nervous under him.

Too ashamed of myself to open my mouth to answer, I nodded my head hesitantly. Nicholas's smirk widened, but there was no mockery in it. No teasing. His hand slid to my chin, tilting my head up so that our gazes locked. There was no escape now — no way to hide.

“I hoped you were,” he murmured, his voice low and warm, sending shivers down my spine. His thumb traced the line of my jaw slowly, deliberately.

He was so close now that I could feel his breath against my skin, and I was painfully aware of how badly my body was reacting to him. His thumb brushed over my lips, and I instinctively parted them, my breath hitching as his gaze softened, darkened. I could feel the tension between us, so thick that I could almost taste it.

His other hand slid around to the small of my back, pressing me into him, the heat of his body sending waves of electricity through me. His eyes never left mine, and I could hear the rapid beat of my own heart in my ears, drowning out everything else.

Nicholas murmured, his voice dark and full of intention, "Did you enjoy what you heard?" His fingers tightened ever so slightly on my waist, as if testing my response, and I couldn't help the small, almost imperceptible nod that escaped my lips.

Nicholas's smirk deepened, and he closed the gap between us, his lips barely grazing mine. His breath was hot and intoxicating, and the world seemed to disappear around us.

“Were you touching yourself?” He questioned, his hand moving down to my hips, my body squirming the moment his finger hooked itself under the band of my underwear.

I closed my eyes, my lips parting at his touch, nodding my head again. My hands clenched behind my back, the urge to touch him overwhelming. But I couldn't seem to move, too caught up in the magnetic pull between us.

Nicholas's thumb traced the outline of my lips again, the action slow and deliberate. His gaze never left mine, and I could see the hunger in his eyes, the way he studied me like I was something he wanted, something he couldn't resist.

His voice was a whisper, low and intoxicating. "You can touch me if you want to." It was a quiet command, but there was an invitation in it.

I hesitated for a moment, but then, as if drawn by an invisible force, my hand slid up his chest, feeling the firm muscle beneath the soft skin. My fingers traced the lines of his collarbone, skimming down to the waistband of his pants before I pulled away, suddenly embarrassed by the boldness of the move. Nicholas didn't give me time to retreat too much, though. With a gentle but firm grasp, he pulled my hand back to his chest, guiding it lower, urging me to feel the hard planes of his body.

His lips parted slightly as he lowered his head, his breath hot against my ear. “Don't be shy,” he whispered again, his voice thick with desire.

I swallowed hard, my pulse racing as I let my hand roam over his body, feeling the heat radiating from him. The muscles of his chest were solid under my touch, his skin warm and soft in contrast. My fingertips trailed down to the waistband of his pants again, this time without hesitation. He didn't stop me, didn't pull away. Instead, he let out a low, approving sound, his body shifting closer to mine.

The closeness was dizzying. His scent filled my senses, sharp and intoxicating, and I couldn't help but pull him toward me by his belt loops and lean in, my lips just inches from his.

He took charge, his lips brushing mine softly at first, teasing, testing, until the pressure grew, and I found myself kissing him back without hesitation. The kiss was electric, hungry, full of that same tension that had been building between us for days. His hand slid around my back, pulling me closer, as I tangled my fingers into his hair, deepening the kiss.

My body responded to him, betraying all the resistance l'd tried to put up. I felt his hands everywhere — on my back, on my hips, his hands softly squeezing my ass, pulling me closer as if he couldn't get enough. A groan rumbled low in his throat as his lips moved to my neck, trailing kisses down the curve of my collarbone. I tilted my head back, surrendering to the sensation, every nerve alive, every thought clouded by the pull of him.

His hands slipped under my shirt, sliding along my bare skin, and I gasped at the coolness of his touch against the heat of my body. The intimacy of it all, the way he seemed to know exactly where to touch, how to make me shiver, was overwhelming. But I wasn't the only one lost in this; it was clear from his ragged breathing, from the way his hands shook slightly as they explored my body, that he was just as desperate as I was.

"Everything I did this weekend was to get your attention," Nicholas murmured against my skin. His lips pressed against the curve of my jaw, trailing to my ear, where he nipped at the lobe gently. "I've wanted you since the moment I saw you in the stairwell. I can't get enough of you, (Y/N),” his voice rough, almost pleading, “I want you.”

His confession hit me like a tidal wave, and for a second, I couldn't breathe. His words, his desire, everything he was feeling was laid bare before me, and I couldn't deny that I wanted him just as much.

"I want you, too, Nicholas," I whispered, my voice barely audible, but the raw honesty behind it made his body freeze. His hands paused where they rested on my back, and I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, as if he was trying to read my soul.

I, however, didn't hesitate. My hands found the sides of his face, pulling him back toward me as I kissed him fiercely. The kiss became frantic as our bodies collided, desperate, as though we were both starved for this connection. His hands moved quickly, pulling my shirt over my head and discarding it on the floor. I felt the cool air hit my skin, but it did nothing to dampen the fire building inside me.

I couldn't pull away. My body, my mind, all of it was consumed by him. His lips trailed down my neck, his teeth grazing lightly over the sensitive skin of my collarbone as his hands roamed lower, finding the waistband of my underwear again. I gasped as he gently tugged them down, his fingers brushing against my skin with an intimacy that made me tremble.

Nicholas was steady in his movements, never rushing, always making sure I was with him, always checking, always asking if I was okay with everything. But there was a fire in his eyes, a need that mirrored mine, a hunger that couldn't be ignored.

"I want to make you feel good," he whispered against my skin, his voice thick with desire. All I could do was nod my head at his statement, ready to give myself to him.

He wasted no time, lifting me effortlessly. I wrapped my legs around him, hooking them behind his lower back. The feeling of his jeans grazing my bare center was enough to trigger a quiet mewl out of me. Nicholas groaned at the sound, his lips crashing back onto mine as he carried me toward the bed. When my back hit the soft mattress, I felt the weight of him settle over me, his hands bracing either side of my head.

His gaze bore into mine, his chest rising and falling heavily as he paused, his face hovering just inches above mine. For a moment, everything stilled, the only sound was the rhythmic beat of our breaths mingling in the air between us. As he settled down in the space next to me, propping himself up by the elbow, his free hand reached up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing over my flushed skin with a tenderness that sent shivers down my spine. The both of us laid there, face to face.

His lips parted as if to say something but no words escaped his lips, the hand on my cheek slowly making its way down, down. It lingered, at first, over my sensitive breast, tracing slow circles around my nipple. I bit my lip at the sensation, digging my head into his chest as I quietly moaned.

Nicholas quietly giggled, amused to see me squirming under him, as he slithered his supporting arm behind my head and pulled me closer to him. His lips rested on my forehead as he slid his hand further down, enveloping my center. “God, you’re soaking,” he whispered; I could feel his smirk against my skin.

His fingers massaged my throbbing bud, then slipped his fingers into me, his touch deft and confident. I loudly gasped and clutched at his arm, arching into him. “Oh, fuck,” I quietly breathed, nibbling on my bottom lip to bite back my moans.

He smiled, “Don’t hold yourself back. Be as loud as you want,” he whispered as his fingers continued to coax me, his thumb massaging my clit.

Digging my nails into his shoulder, my chest violently rising and falling as he pumped his fingers, I shook my head. “Somebody’s gonna hear,” I stammered out through my labored breathing.

“So?” He questioned, slipping a third finger in. Nicholas's confidence was maddening, his tone both teasing and commanding, making it impossible to resist him. “Let them hear how good I make you feel," he murmured, his lips brushing against my temple.

My body arched involuntarily, my head falling back into the pillow as a moan escaped me despite my best efforts to stifle it. Nicholas was not having it. He quickened his pace, quickly slipping in and out with ease, as his thumb continued to circle around my clit. His lips kissed at my neck, his tongue licking my skin before gently sucking. I turned my head, my hand clutching at the back of his hair as I passionately made out with him, softly moaning between kisses.

I was unraveling beneath him, my body trembling as the heat coiled tighter and tighter in my core. My moans slowly became louder and louder, filling the room, and I knew there was no hiding how he was making me feel. The pleasure that I was feeling was so great that I couldn’t focus on kissing Nicholas anymore. I had to pull my head away, glancing down at his hand pumping in and out of me before shutting my eyes and burying my head into his chest again. I could barely find the strength to call out to him, my voice faltering as I moaned out, “Nic…” 

"That's it,” he encouraged, his voice a low growl. "Say my name, baby,” his fingers reshaping themselves inside me to reach further

My breathing became erratic hearing him call me baby, my nails raking across his shoulder as I clung to him, "Nicholas," I cried, louder this time, no longer caring who might hear.

The sound of my voice seemed to spur him on, his movements growing even more precise, more relentless. His words, his touch, the heat of his body — it was all too much. "It’s ok; I’ve got you," he murmured against my neck, his lips leaving a trail of kisses along my skin. His gaze locking with mine, his fingers never faltering.

His words were my undoing. I shattered around him, my body arching as a wave of pleasure crashed over me, pulling me under. My cries of ecstasy filled the room, and I clung to Nicholas like he was the only thing keeping me tethered to reality. He held me through it, his embrace steady and reassuring as I rode out the high while his fingers continued to coax every pleasure out of me, slowing to a stop.

When I finally came down, my body limped against his, Nicholas pressed a soft kiss to my lips, his hand leaving my core and coming up to his lips. I watched in awe as he licked at his fingers, wrapping his lips around them as he savored every trace of me with a deliberate slowness that made my breath hitch. His eyes never left mine, their intensity sending a shiver down my spine. I buried my face against his shoulder, my breathing still uneven.

He brushed away the damp hair from my face with the back of his pinky, “You taste even better than I imagined,” he spoke softly, his voice velvety.

The weight of his gaze was almost too much, but when I looked into his brown eyes, all I saw was warmth, tenderness, and something deeper that made my stomach ache. My stomach wasn’t the only thing aching, either. The entirety of me did — my hands, my core, my soul. I ached for him.

Desperate to have him at the end of my fingertips, I trailed my hands across his chest, settling on the nape of his neck as I captured his lips in a kiss. Nicholas replied with a soft groan, his hand finding my waist and his fingers delicately digging into my skin. The kiss deepened, our breaths mingling as I pulled him closer, needing to feel every inch of him against me. My hands wandered, exploring the contours of his back, his muscles taut under my fingertips.

I pulled my lips away, pressing my forehead against his, “I hope you’re not done with me yet,” I whispered.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, “Far from it.”

He cradled my head in his hand, angling it slightly as his lips moved with mine, urgent yet tender. Nicholas shifted his weight, moving slightly up on the bed, grabbing me by my hips and rolling himself over on the bed as he pulled me on top of him.

My legs straddled his hips, my bare skin brushing against the rough denim of his jeans. The friction sent a jolt through me, and I bit my lip, my eyes locking with his. His hands slid up my thighs, gripping them firmly as if grounding himself in the moment. His gaze roamed over me with unrestrained hunger, making my skin flush under his scrutiny.

His hands continued their slow exploration, sliding up to rest on my waist. "I could look at you like this forever."

His words sent a thrill through me, and I couldn't help but smile, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. He met me halfway, his hands tightening their grip as he deepened the kiss. I let my hands roam, tracing the lines of his chest and shoulders, marveling at the strength beneath my fingertips. His muscles flexed as he moved beneath me, his hands sliding up to cradle my back, holding me close.

My hips began to move instinctively, grinding against him, and Nicholas groaned, his head falling back against the pillow as his eyes fluttered shut. His reaction ignited something in me, a newfound confidence that made me bold. I leaned down, my lips brushing against his ear as I whispered, "Tell me what you want, Nicholas."

His hands gripped my waist tighter, guiding my movements as he let out a low growl. "I want you," he said, his voice rough with desire.

The intensity of his words sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn't hold back the smile that spread across my face. Leaning down, I kissed him again, pouring every ounce of my own desire into it. My hands tangled in his hair as our lips moved together, our breaths mingling as the space between us disappeared entirely.

Nicholas's hands slid down to my ass, his touch firm yet gentle as he guided me to move against him. The friction between us was electric, each movement sending waves of pleasure through me. His lips left mine to trail down my neck, his teeth grazing over my skin in a way that made me gasp.

"You drive me crazy, (Y/N)," he murmured against my collarbone, his voice raw, “you know that?"

I smiled, my hands bracing against his chest as I moved against him, my confidence growing with every reaction I drew from him. "I do now," I replied, my voice breathless.

Nicholas groaned, his hand digging into my skin as he bucked his hips upward, meeting my movements. His control was slipping, and I could feel it in the way his grip tightened, the way his breathing grew ragged. I continued to grind against him, trying to coax out the whimpers I had heard escape his lips when I was listening through the wall.

Nicholas's hands slid up my back, his fingers tracing along my spine as he tried to steady himself. His head fell back, his eyebrows tied together as his lips parted in a quiet moan that sent a rush of heat through me. But it wasn’t enough. I brushed my thumb against his bottom lip, slowing to a stop so he could feel the loss, teasing him with the occasional grind, “I want to hear you, Nic.”

He nodded his head, pressing me down against him as he bucked his hips upward repeatedly, desperate for me to continue. “Please, (Y/N),” he shut his eyes closed as he ground himself against me, quietly whining.

Smirkingly, I obliged, slowly continuing to grind against him. I rested my palms on his tense chest, bringing them down to the waistband of his jeans. His fingers curled into my thighs the faster I worked, moaning louder and louder.

“Fuck, I can’t—“ he threw his head back, raggedly moaning.

Looking at him in such a vulnerable state underneath me after days of having to deal with his cocky confidence, it made my blood rush. I played with the button of his jeans, undoing them and shimmying his pants and boxers off just enough for his hard length to free itself under me. I spit my hand, gently stroking him as I positioned his member at my entrance.

Nicholas let out a guttural groan, his hands gripping me firmly as I hovered over him, teasing him with my slow movements. I lowered myself onto him, taking him in inch by inch, the sensation sending a wave of pleasure coursing through my body. A sharp gasp escaped my lips, and Nicholas’s eyes rolled back, his head falling back onto the pillow again. The connection between us was electric, every movement, every sound amplifying the intensity of the moment. Nicholas's hands roamed over my body, his touch both tender and possessive.

As I rode him, I grabbed Nicholas’s hands, leading them to my chest. Even though he could barely keep his eyes open, he understood what I wanted, beginning to knead and pinch at my breasts. I moaned at his touch, bringing one hand of his up to my lips to kiss his fingertips before placing it back on my breast.

Suddenly, I felt him tense under me, arching his back toward me, "Don't stop," he pleaded, his voice becoming an octave higher, his grip on me tightening. "Please, baby, don't stop.”

I didn't. I couldn't. The rhythm between us was intoxicating, building to something that felt almost otherworldly. My name fell from his lips like a prayer, and the sound sent a surge of pleasure through me, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

Nicholas's hands fell to my hips, guiding my movements as his breathing grew erratic. "I'm close," he groaned, his voice a mix of desperation and pleasure.

I leaned down, my lips brushing against his ear as I whispered, “Come for me, Nic." My words seemed to break the last of his restraint, and his hips bucked up into me with an urgency that sent shockwaves through my entire body.

“Fuck, (Y/N), I —“ His words cut off as a guttural groan escaped him, his body arching beneath me as he came. The intensity of his release sent me spiraling over the edge with him, my body trembling as the product of his pleasure filled me completely, some of the creamy liquid slowly dripping out me.

The aftershocks of our climax left us both trembling, our breaths mingling as we tried to regain control of ourselves. I collapsed onto Nicholas's chest, his arms immediately wrapping around me, holding me close as though he couldn't bear the thought of letting go.

For a while, we just lay there, our bodies pressed together, hearts pounding in unison. His fingers traced lazy patterns along my spine, a small, satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips. I could feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath me, the steady rhythm lulling me into a serene haze.

He caught his breath, “That was….” a hint of a chuckle at the end of his words, “That was fucking incredible,” he said as he kissed the top of my head.

I pulled myself off of Nicholas, lying down next to him and covering myself with the bed sheets. I thought about what he had said earlier at the beach — I may not give in easily, but when I do, I give in completely. It felt nice to finally be seen by someone who could understand me even after only knowing me for a few days compared to other people who have known me for years and still manage to get things wrong about me.

I rolled over to face Nicholas, my hand finding his. He smiled softly, intertwining his fingers with mine and kissing the back of my hand. A smile curled at the end of my lips seeing him so affectionate, “When do you check out of the hotel?” I asked, playing with his hand.

“In the morning. You?” He asked, caressing my cheek with his other hand.

“In the morning,” I replied, my eyes flickering up at him to see his reaction.

He was quiet, not saying anything at first, however, he rolled me over and pulled me closer to him, spooning me and pressing a kiss to my shoulder. “We’ll have tonight, then,” he whispered, wrapping his heavy arm around my waist and nuzzling his head into the pillow.

My chest tightened at his words, and I couldn't help but smile softly. I rested my hand above his, intertwining our fingers. Before I knew it, I had fallen asleep to the sound of Nicholas’s soft, rhythmic breathing.

A few hours later, which felt like minutes, I stirred awake to the soft light filtering through the curtains. The remnants of the previous night were scattered around — my shirt and underwear and his jeans and boxers strewn carelessly across the floor, the faint scent of Nicholas's cologne mingling with the crisp hotel room air.

The weight of his big, beefy arm draped over my waist anchored me in place. For a moment, I stayed still, savoring the warmth of his body against mine and the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek before I rotated in place so I could admire Nicholas as he rested. 

We were so close that I could count the beauty marks on his face. There was one on his cheek and another on his chin. His lashes cast shadows on his cheekbones, his lips slightly parted as he breathed deeply. I softly grazed my fingers over the scar on his forehead, wondering how he might’ve gotten it, though I’m not sure if I’d ever find out. He looked peaceful, vulnerable even, and the sight tugged at something deep within me.

I let my fingers trail lightly over his chest, tracing the faint outlines of the muscles that had pressed against me so urgently just hours ago. He stirred slightly, a low hum escaping his throat as his arm tightened around me instinctively.

His eyes fluttered open, landing on me before he closed them again for a few seconds, “Morning,” he murmured, smiling, his voice thick and husky from sleep. He opened his eyes again, gazing at me longingly.

"Morning," I whispered back, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze despite everything we had shared. His hand slid up my back, his fingers tangling in my hair as he leaned in for a slow, lingering kiss.

“Are we staying in?” he asked, shifting his body to face me.

I smiled, running a hand through his messy bedhead. "Oh, I wish," I admitted, my cheeks flushing as the memories of the night before flooded back, "but we have to check out.”

Nicholas groaned, his forehead pressing gently against mine. “Don’t remind me,” he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He brushed a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “We should get some breakfast together before we leave.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, pushing myself up and sitting on the edge of the bed, stretching my arms. I let out a small sigh, feeling the weight of the moment settle on me. The night had been incredible, but the thought of leaving was already filling me with an unexpected ache. “Breakfast sounds perfect,” I said softly, faking a small yawn.

Nicholas and I didn’t waste any time. I changed into a clean set of clothes and packed up my things, my body slowly waking up the more I walked back and forth in the room. Nicholas put on his boxers and jeans and retreated to his room for a bit, quickly throwing all his stuff into a backpack before coming back to my room and helping me carry my bags to the car.

I think I was too somber to say anything, knowing if I did, that a “goodbye” might be attached to the end of whatever I say.

The silence between us felt heavy but not uncomfortable as we made our way to the café, our movements synchronized without the need for words.

As we entered, the delicious smell of freshly-baked pastries beckoned to us. The morning sunlight filtered through the large windows, casting soft rays across the inside. The sound of light chatter and the occasional clinking of cups and forks against the ceramic plates filled the air, but it all felt distant compared to the warmth between Nicholas and me.

He slithered his hand into mine as he led us to the register, politely smiling to the worker. He ordered his meal, a coffee and a Belgian waffle. I was about to order for myself when he interrupted. “She’ll have the Italian crème croissant and a pot of green tea, please.”

I couldn’t help but smile. That first morning in the café, I could’ve sworn Nicholas was so focused on his book that he didn’t realize what was going on around him; I had no idea he was paying attention to me the entire time.

He paid the worker for our food, letting her keep the change, and waked us over to the same table I had sat in both days prior. We sat close, our knees brushing under the table as we picked at our food, the conversation flowing easily despite the unspoken weight of the situation hanging in the air. After some minutes, the worker came over with our food, and we continued to converse while enjoying our breakfast.

Nicholas looked at me, his expression soft but with a hint of something more playful. “So, at what point are you gonna give me your number?” he asked, taking a bite of his waffle.

I paused, chuckling softly as I chewed on my croissant for a moment before meeting his gaze. “What?” I asked confusedly, trying to keep my tone casual, though my heart rate had sped up slightly.

“What, you thought you’d get rid of me so easily?” He took a sip of his coffee, shaking his head and smirking.

I laughed, the sound a little nervous but genuine. “I just didn’t want to assume anything or get my hopes up,” I admitted, giving him a sideways glance. There was a warmth spreading through me that I couldn’t quite place, something between affection and the lingering thrill of uncertainty.

Nicholas’s eyes softened, and he leaned back slightly, his hands wrapped around his cup. “Well, get your hopes up,” he said, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of something deeper. “because I don’t plan on letting go of you anytime soon.”

I swallowed, feeling my heart rate quicken at his words. There was something about the way he said it — so casually but with an intensity beneath the surface — that made me realize just how serious he was. And maybe how serious I was about him too.

“Alright, alright,” I said, smiling, trying to shake off the sudden rush of emotions swirling inside me. “Let’s trade phones.”

Nicholas’s smile widened, and he handed me his phone without hesitation, his fingers brushing against mine as we traded devices. I typed my number into the phone app, adding myself as a contact.

“Just remember we’re in different time zones before you decide to call me in the middle of the night,” I joked as I handed his phone back to him.

Nicholas laughed, a warm, genuine sound that made my heart flutter. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied, slipping the phone back into his pocket then handing me mine, the screen off. “Though I won’t make any promises I can’t keep.”

I rolled my eyes playfully, but the blush creeping up my neck betrayed me.

We finished our breakfast. Nicholas quietly walked me over to my car. He walked close to me, his hand occasionally brushing against mine before finally capturing it. He leaned casually against the car with his arms crossed. He looked so effortless, so at ease, but there was something in his eyes — a softness, maybe even a hint of reluctance — that made it clear he felt the weight of the moment, too.

We both stood there silently, knowing this was our goodbye. Nicholas uncrossed his arms, stepping closer until he was right in front of me. His fingers tilted my chin up, and he searched my eyes, his brows knitting together slightly as if to say something. However, instead of resorting to words, he inched his face closer and closer until our lips grazed. 

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if we were both trying to hold on to the fleeting moment. But then, as if we both couldn’t help it, the kiss deepened, more urgent now, the electricity between us undeniable. My hands found their way to his shirt, pulling him closer, while his arms wrapped around me, his fingers pressing into my back as if he wanted to keep me there forever. Though, we pulled away slowly, our foreheads resting against each other as we caught our breath. Neither of us spoke immediately, both of us reluctant to break the spell.

Nicholas stepped back, “How about next time you have a free weekend you treat yourself to a trip to LA and come visit me?”

My heart skipped a beat at his words, the weight of his offer sinking in. I couldn’t tell if it was the sudden openness of his invitation or the quiet sincerity in his voice that made it feel so real. It wasn’t just a passing comment; it was an open door between us.

“I’d like that,” I said softly, surprised by how easily the words came out.

He smiled, his expression softening. “Good.” He reached up, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering as his eyes locked onto mine.

I wanted to say more — something that could make this moment last longer, something to ease the ache already starting to form in my chest. But the words didn’t come, and instead, we stood there, wrapped in silence, our connection hanging between us like an unspoken promise.

He gave me one lingering kiss, brief but filled with everything we couldn’t put into words. When we finally pulled away, he looked at me, as if taking one final mental picture of me standing there, before speaking. “I’ll call you.”

I nodded, feeling the flutter of anticipation start to rise inside me. “You better.”

He squeezed my hand gently before opening my car door and slyly rolling down the window, watching me climb inside and closing the door for me. He leaned on the door, softly smiling, “To be continued.”

I couldn’t help but smile and give him one final kiss through the open window so I could savor his taste before starting up the car. He stepped back, hands in his pockets, to give me enough room to back out of the parking space. I slowly reversed out, waving my hand at him and driving out into the street.

The quiet hum of the engine filled the space, but the silence didn’t feel empty. There was something between us, something that went beyond just a weekend. It was more than I’d expected, more than I’d thought I was ready for, but as I drove away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the end.

I don’t think I even left the neighborhood before a phone call interrupted my thoughts. My car’s entertainment screen lit up with the contact name in big, bold letters — Room 5.

I couldn’t help but laugh, shaking my head as I tapped the answer button on the steering wheel. “Hey,” I teased, my voice light and playful, though my chest felt warm at the sight of his contact name lighting up my screen.

“Hey,” Nicholas’s voice came through, smooth and familiar.

It was just the beginning.

[gotta-winwin]

(🎞️) ... hit the road docu.<> for you to walk comfortably

word count: 1k TW: fluff? nothing too crazy - woozi's segments pretty mild compared to what's about to go down („• ֊ •„) italics are interview moments cut between other scenes a/n: welcome to the first instalment of htr!

Cyana couldn't help but glance at Woozi when they won the Album of the Year at Asia Artist Awards. She wanted to see that glow of a smile flood across their producer member's face, a smile she so rarely got to see. He was usually so stoic around her.

"We won." Jeonghan breathed into her ear, pulling her and Dino in for a hug. "We won."

She looked at Woozi, who had been tugged into a group hug with Seungcheol and the others. "We won." She mumbled, mostly to herself. She couldn't quite believe it.

"It was hard to imagine we had won." Woozi said to the camera. "I was looking for Cyana the whole time, trying to see her reaction. I never thought we'd succeed with her next to us." He shrugged, a little sheepish. "Guess I was wrong."

"Hi!" Cyana waved to the camera. "We're practicing for our Osaka concert right now." She moved to show the members with the staff in the background. "Apparently they did this all last tour as well, to keep in line with the local staff."

Woozi could be seen directing the bulk of it, naturally taking over as he knew most about their sound design.

"It sounds a bit lower," Woozi said into his mic. "can we adjust that?"

"It was amazing, to see Woozi oppa controlling the stage, even when we weren't performing." Cyana smiled as she recalled. "It made it even harder to hold a grudge."

Woozi approached Cyana as they sat in the green room, two hours before the concert. She was busy eating, her phone propped up as she watched Criminal Minds on low volume.

"Your mic pack's acting up." He informed her, sitting down opposite her. "They're fixing it but we don't know how long it'll take."

Cyana paused her show, looking up worried. "Is there a spare?"

"The staff are finding one now." Woozi let out a loud sigh. "It's a bit hectic today."

"I was kind of checking everything that day. It wasn't that I was a perfectionist. There was just a lot of changes. It was a different size stage, we had changed formations and cue sheets." Woozi recalled the day.

Cyana nodded after hearing the interviewer's comment. "I don't think our performance in Osaka would've gone as well if it hadn't been for his attention to detail."

LOCATION: UNIVERSE FACTORY

"I spend most of my time at the studio. It's like my second home." Woozi explained. "It's also where I see Cyana the most."

Cyana's sprawled on the studio couch, face facing the ceiling as she listened to the track Woozi was playing. "Pause it." Cyana sat upright, her face in thought. "Wait, go back a few bars."

"I liked working with Woozi oppa. We didn't really have much to say to each other outside of work, but working on music was something that could bring us together." Cyana let out a tiny laugh. "I guess being sleep deprived does bring people together."

Woozi rewinds the track, bringing it back to the chorus. "Here?" He asked, looking at Cyana for confirmation.

The girl nodded. "Yeah, play it again?"

The two grew silent as they concentrated on the beats. Cyana stood up suddenly frowning. "What is that sound in the very back? The dat-dat-dat-dun." She mimed drumbeats as she tried explaining what she was hearing.

"Cyana didn't know how to work the sound mixing board yet, she was learning as we worked but I could tell it frustrated her, having to explain her thoughts to me." Woozi couldn't help but smile. "It was endearing, I have to say."

"I know what you mean." Woozi nodded, following her train of thought. "I hear it too. Must've altered when we mixed those two beats together yesterday." He clicked a few keys on the board. "I'll find it."

"Bumzu sunbaenim told me Woozi oppa's always been like this, even as a trainee. A pure musical genius." Cyana shook her head in mild disbelief. "I came to learn that producing is literally his entire life. He doesn't even think of it as anything special."

Cyana let out a yawn, sitting back down on her spot at the corner of the couch, curling her legs up. "You should take a break, oppa. You've been staring at that screen for hours."

"I felt bad, that I couldn't hold my fair share of the work. Sometimes it felt like I was just directing him." Cyana admitted. "I thought: he must feel annoyed, having the maknae throw ideas into his area of expertise."

Woozi stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders back. "I'm fine, Cyana. We can keep going." Rolling his chair across the room, he opened the mini fridge and threw her a bottle of water before taking one for himself. "We'll forget tomorrow."

Cyana could only smile ruefully at his persistence, taking a small sip of water. "Only if you're sure."

"What else can I say?" Woozi shrugged. "The members all say I work too hard. That I should be sleeping more, going out more, living more. But I am living- when I'm making music."

Woozi cued up the track once again, sifting through it to find the error both he and Cyana could hear. Cyana watched from behind, feet tapping absentmindedly to the rhythm.

The concert venue held an insane amount of people. Cyana could only stare out into the vast sea, smiling from the sidelines as Woozi started his Opening Ment.

"I'm a stickler for routine." Woozi said, elbows on his knees as he explained to the interviewer. "Cyana proved to me new things can be better than the old- and I'm grateful to her for that." He side eyes the staff. "She won't see this, right?" Looking back at the camera, he continued. "Anyways, I'm thankful for my members because they are the ones who love my music the most. Because of that, I feel no pressure in creating, only joy."

The cheers from the crowd washed over Woozi as he performed with his members.

'There is something so special about seeing people enjoy your group's music. And it is even more special knowing you created it."

a/n: wahhh first hit the road ep done! it was def a journey, trying to combine cyana into the episode and also keeping it woozi-centered. I tried following the format of the og youtube docu- lmk how it was! these instalments might be on the shorter side just cause the docus are pretty short themselves (｡•́︿•̀｡)

[moonstruckme]

mae, congratulations on 8k and happy holidays ahhh!!! if you have the time, i could totally see something fun with tasm! peter and the prompt office christmas party. like coworkers to friends to pining and confessions? basically it’s giving jim and pam teapot, BUT i would love to see where your brain takes it

Thank you for requesting! Happy holidays :)

cw: jokes are made about Peter's appearance, but they're very, very sarcastic

coworker!(tasm)Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 639 words

You never usually wear red. It’s not like it’s one of Peter’s favorite colors anyway—he only really wears it for one thing, even if that’s pretty much every day—but he feels suddenly robbed having never seen it on you before. As if you’re not eye-catching enough already, your holiday sweater makes you the brightest thing in the room. 

Peter goes to it like a moth to a flame. Though, in fairness, that’s your usual effect on him, sweater or no. 

“Oh, wow, you lucked out,” he says, raising his eyebrows at your white elephant gift. 

You look up from your desk, grinning when you see Peter. “I know, right?” You hold your prize up enthusiastically, like they’re the keys to your new car and not slippers designed to look like giant man feet with a bow slapped on top of them. “Can you believe I started with a bluetooth shower speaker and worked my way up to these? I mean, Christmas is over at this point. Everyone else can go home.” 

“Those will probably be the best give you’ll ever get,” Peter agrees. He leans against your desk, careful not to disturb the pens lined up neatly by your laptop. “You really managed to land on a personalized one, too. Did you already know they made slippers that match your feet, or did you just find out today?” 

Your shoulders hitch with a laugh, pretty eyes sparkling. Peter feels a warm tug in his gut. Any day he can make you smile is a good one. 

“What did you get?” you ask him. 

“Oh, mine came from the boss man himself.” Peter reaches into his small gift bag, pulling out his prize. “Check this baby out.” 

Your smile stays in place, but you look genuinely perplexed. “A toothbrush?” 

“Not just any toothbrush.” He presses a button on the side, watching your face as a song begins to play from a small speaker. Baby, baby, baby, ohhhh…

Your mouth actually drops open before you cover it with a hand, giggles muffled into your palm. “Okay, wait, wait. I actually want that one now.” 

Peter hisses through his teeth, shrugging remorsefully. “Sorry, but I don’t think I can part with it. It’s too important to me. Anyway, you’ve got your slippers, and they suit you so well…” 

“Right, but” —You school your expression into solemnity. Peter has to work hard to suppress his own grin, thinking to himself that you look like a contestant on that Shark Tank show— “have you considered the potential of these slippers in your love life? I mean, I’ve already basically got it covered with my feet, but Peter…” You hold the slippers up, letting them dangle from a single finger. “These could be a real babe magnet.” 

Peter lets out a long exhale, pretending to consider it. “That’s true. I could use a little help on the dating front…” 

“You could,” you say sympathetically. 

“I mean, my looks on their own are hardly doing the job.” 

“It’s not your fault we weren’t all born naturally attractive.” 

“I am pretty plain…” 

“Homely, even. But that’s alright.” You hold the slippers out again. “That’s where these come in.” 

“Okay.” Peter feigns reluctance, handing over the toothbrush. “You’ve got a deal.” 

“Yes!” Every hair on his leg stands at attention when you put your hand on his knee, squeezing. You’re smiling beatifically. “Thank you, Peter. This means the world.” 

“Yeah, well, you’re doing me a favor too.” He sets his hand on top of yours, squeezing also. “Pleasure doing business with you.” 

Your eyes drop to your hand as if realizing where it is for the first time, and Peter pretends not to notice when your eyes flicker up to his, the teasing in them giving way momentarily to bashfulness. He got the best gift today, for sure. 

[caughtthedarkness93]

There are better stories that'll give you a similar experience to Harry Potter and won't line the pockets of someone who is doing everything in her power to make the lives of vulnerable people miserable.

For example, I recommended both Persona 5 and Ikenfell a lot around the time Hogwarts Legacy came out.

Persona 5 for capturing the feel of the interplay of daily school life and relationships alongside a big, overarching fantasy mystery with a very different flavor, but a similar appeal to what the Harry Potter stories did. It's an excellent game with themes are similar, but much better executed and more resonant than Harry Potter was. It's not perfect and there is values dissonance, but the story has some incredible twists and turns and the characters are fantastically written.

Ikenfell is much closer to the tone of Harry Potter itself and explicitly about a school that teaches magic. It has a score by the same duo that scored Steven Universe, and within the first few minutes of the game your player character gets hit on by another woman and makes a nonbinary friend. Ikenfell feels like it was made by people who used to love Harry Potter, get fed up with Rowling's bullshit, and made a game that was similar, but downright confrontational in how upfront it is with its queer themes and characters.

You could also watch Mary and the Witch's Flower, a film by Studio Ponoc. It was founded by ex-Ghibli animators and you can very easily tell in this film. The art style, designs, and other stuff feels very Ghibli, and as such, this film feels like what would happen if 90s or 2000s Ghibli made a magic school film. It's breathtaking to look at and a delightful time.

Any of these would be a good pick to watch or play rather than Harry Potter.

Sometimes it is important to let go of the things you love, even things that are important to you. I'm practiced at it at this point. Two of the artists who are incredibly influential to the kind of writer I am - Neil Gaiman and Joss Whedon - both turned out to be people who have done things I cannot abide. Firefly was a huge part of my life for a long time, and I remember finishing The Ocean at the End of the Lane in less than 24 hours because it gripped me so hard. Without these artists I wouldn't be who I am today. In fact, their work is part of what taught me not to tolerate the kinds of things both of these men have done.

If you still like Harry Potter, think about what the text tells you. Do not stand for prejudice and injustice. Do not allow those corrupted by hate to hold power. Stand up to cruelty. Stand against petty bullies.

The values that these stories preach are clear - they say to tell people like JK Rowling to piss off, and to stop ignoring her heinous beliefs.

Welp, if JK Rowling being executive producer and therefore being fully involved in the show wasn't enough for people to boycott, then here's HBO basically saying they don't care JK Rowling is a bigot from hell who literally helped lead a harassment campaign of lies against Imane Khalif in her transphobia and obsession with women being terf's standards of women alongside posting harassment against trans people on twitter at times, they gonna stand by her, while using the excuse, "personal views". Hmm, yes, personal views- that's one way to uh, call what the fuck JK Rowling comes out with a-lot- last I checked personal views do come with consquiences if said out loud....a thousand times in JK's case and still counting....especially if they hurt people, but hey, if it means making another Harry Potter project to milk, just let it fucking be I guess.

[joejhang]

every insane thing in arcane season 2 act 3

ep 7 was a masterpiece truly took me out

lowk really funny the way they cut from the happy, (almost) perfect world au to jayce hallucinating and eating raw meat

TIMEBOMB CANON????? lowk didn't see the appeal of it UNTIL NOW WTF WAS THATTTTT

au powder MY GIRLLLLL

dude they yassified silco in the au too. i'm hearing y'all out this time.

HEIMER???? he was such a real one bro

jayce hallucinating mel and viktor and the two of them being interchangeable/intertwined in his mind. which could mean nothing.

also on that note i KNEW everyone was too quick to judge my boy jayce GOD what an interesting character

the "pretend like it's the first time" thing kind of killed me a bit i might've cried a little

it really just proves WE COULD'VE HAD IT ALLLLLL

killing IS a cycle

jinx w her hair out was something i didn't know i needed

caitlyn and jinx's dynamic is SO YUM i need more of their tense interactions

caitvi argument like five mins into the episode lowk gave me life I LOVE ANGST

jinx and vi continue to kill me slowly

everyone who ever said vi gave up on jinx or was a bad older sister i hope u guys CHOKE on ur fucking words

caitvi sex scene...in a jail cell...bro they were wildin

"i saw someone" "i don't fucking care" SUCH A VI THING TO SAY GODDDD I LOVE THEM

they have sm chemistry god

somehow they made mel's character design even more gorgeous than before tf

viktor was lowk wildin but i don't really care i love that man

ngl i was kinda like "viktor baby what ru doing" somewhere in there but i knew they'd work it out

"i'll miss our talks" "no you won't" HAHAHAHHA SKY'S A REAL ONE

jinx boutta khs and then ekko stops her FOAMING AT THE MOUTHHHHH THEY DESERVED MORE SCREENTIME TOGETHER

i knew maddie was sus.

jayvik canon jayvik canon jayvik canon jayvik canon

honestly it would've been less gay if they kissed

everyone is DOOMED oh my god

jinx swooping in to save the day WHO ELSE CHEERED

lowkey i miss her twin tails but i get why she cut them

JINX AND VI FIGHTING TOGETHER AGAIN UGH SISTERHOOD

"i'm always with you sis" IT REALLY IS ABOUT THEM IT WAS ALWAYS ABOUT THEM

i actually don't think jinx is dead that scene w cait and the air vents isn't there for no reason

not mad about the open ending tho

SO impressed how they managed to tie so many loose ends together arcane creators you will always be famous

again love the fast pace it does it for me

also cait was looking SO FINE in that last scene i actually gasped when i saw her on screen i love women oh my god

shoutout to caitvi for being the ONLY couple that gets a happy ending in this fucking show

ekko MVP GIVE MY MAN HIS BREAD

[it-happened-one-fic]

Twisted Weddings: - Introduction

Author Notes: This is the first part of my 800 Followers celebration event for the Twisted Wonderland fandom. This is just going to be the introduction section for the story itself (which is going to be 9 sections in total). I chose the wedding theme on a whim based on a fic I read a long time ago on AO3 that has long sense gone missing, but no one is actually going to be getting married. Reader is going to be female for the sake of my own ease for this series. I hope everyone enjoys!

Type: Female reader/ sfw/ fluff/ featuring Crewel (Note for sake of avoiding confusion: This is not x Crewel)

Word count: 775

I frowned slightly at Crewel as he sat down across from me, a stack of papers in his hands that he slowly laid out. One sheet at a time.

“I’ve recently finished designing a line of wedding dresses and suits,” He spoke as he fanned the sheets out across the table. Each page had a sketched-out design of a wedding gown that had me blinking slightly in surprise.

Of course I’d known that Crewel was a designer. As if his fashionable nature wasn’t enough to tip me off, then Vil talking about his clothing line would have been. I hadn’t realized that he designed bridal clothes, though. And I certainly didn’t know what these clothes had to do with me or why he’d called me in to look at them.

I slowly glanced back up at my instructor as he continued, utterly calm despite my wary confusion, “I’m wanting to market each of these dresses differently than I usually would though. You see, this is my first line of bridal designs.”

I nodded, shifting slightly in my seat as Crewel eyed me, “I’ve decided that, along with the runaway models, I would do an advertising campaign where I have just one woman model all the gowns with varying different grooms.”

I blinked, already seeing where this was heading but not quite able to keep myself from staring at him in surprise in a way that had him smiling at me, “Of course I’ll pay you for modeling all eight gowns.”

I glanced down at the page in front of me, a picture of a classic wedding dress. Pristine white with a veil and looking like it was directly out of a fairytale. But as I glanced back up at Crewel, I shook my head slightly in blatant disbelief, “But I’m not a model…..”

“That’s what will make these ads more unique. You aren’t a model of any sort, and yet you will be the bride for this marketing campaign and will be far more relatable to prospective brides looking for a dress.”

I had to hand it to him; he’d come prepared. And I couldn’t deny that earning some money was attractive when I considered the state Ramshackle dorm was in.

There was no telling how many repairs I’d be able to manage with whatever Crewel was willing to pay me.

“The campaign will consist of seven pictures for magazines and billboards and one video for television advertising. For each dress, you will be paired with a different groom,” He continued calmly. Clearly explaining his plan for the marketing campaign even as I weigh my options.

“Are the models of the groom’s suits going to be professional?” I tilted my head when I spoke, and he hummed in response before shaking his head. 

How he avoided sending any of his black hair into the white half of his head or vice versa was beyond me, but I didn’t question it as he responded, “Only one. As I said, there’s going to be a different model for the grooms in each image. I thought it would be more interesting to use other fresh faces for this campaign for the grooms.”

I felt my eyebrows arch, “But wouldn't it make more sense to just use one model for the suits since you’re just going to be using one for the gowns?”

Crewel frowned, a flicker of annoyance going through his gaze as his eyes met mine, and I tilted my head slightly, “That was the plan, but the candidates for modeling being how they were made things difficult.”

“And who are the candidates?” I couldn’t help the wariness that slipped into my tone, and Crewel sighed slightly before handing me a stack of pictures that was filled with familiar faces.

“They ended up being the winners. Whether they entered themselves or were entered by someone else,” As he spoke, I sifted through the pictures.

Trey, Ruggie, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, Sebek, and Leona.

“Winners?” I echoed him amusedly, and Crewel shook his head. 

There was a perfectly annoyed expression on his face as he frowned down at the pictures in my hands, “Suffice to say they all turned it into a competition.”

I almost wanted to ask exactly how this supposed ‘competition’ went down, but thought better of it as I took a secondary glance at Crewel’s expression.

I shrugged lightly, laying the pictures down on top of the wedding sketches, “Well, I can’t really think of any reason to say no to modeling for you…”

I trailed off and Crewel nodded, back to business as usual as he collected all the papers, “Then we’ll start tomorrow.”

If you would like to read more

Next: Coming Soon!

[valkyrieromanoff]

God bless your dad's genetics… Dilf! Anakin x son’s girlfriend!reader

FIRST

CHAPTER TWO: DINER

synopsis: dinner with the Skywalker family becomes tense when Anakin's lingering glances and flirtatious comments about you blur the lines, leading to a drunken performance that upsets Padmé. What should have been simple becomes dangerously complicated.

warning: age gap (Anakin is 44 years old and the reader is in her early 20s), cheating, alternate universe, mild flirting in front of his wife

words: 1.6k

a/n: hello there, I am really happy with your receptiveness to this idea, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. I'll take this opportunity to let you know that there will be some hotter things happening, but we'll go through a little slow burn along the way (but not so slow, lol)… thanks again, and happy reading ;)

CHAPTER TWO: DINER

The dinner had been strange. You were already on edge, meeting the entire Skywalker family for the first time while keeping up the fragile lie of being Luke’s girlfriend. Lying wasn’t your strong suit, you had agreed that Luke would answer any relationship questions to not cause any suspicion. You kept the stories simple, only a date of the start of dating or a place, which you two already have gone, fearing you’d trip over more elaborate details.

Luke being late only made things worse. You tried to keep your nerves in check, smoothing invisible wrinkles in your light blue summer dress—a simple design that, to your surprise, drew a lingering glance from Anakin. You met his eyes and quickly looked away, unsure why his gaze left your skin tingling.

The awkward silence stretched until Padmé’s gentle voice broke it. “You must be Luke’s girlfriend. I’m glad to finally meet you,” she said with a polite smile, though her eyes seemed distant, the warmth not quite reaching them.

Anakin added, voice laced with playful sarcasm, “Though Luke didn’t mention you existed until two days ago.” Padmé elbowed her husband. “Hey,” he murmured, smirking as he leaned back in his chair.

Padmé's soft chuckle felt more like a well-rehearsed mask than genuine amusement. “Ignore him, dear. Let’s sit at the table while we wait for the kids.” Her suggestion carried a hint of formality—like an actress on a stage, maintaining appearances.

You followed them, feeling like an outsider intruding on an unspoken drama. The dining table, set for six, had two chairs on either side, with Anakin taking one end and Padmé the other. A trivial detail, but one that made your brows knit. Twenty-five years of marriage, yet they chose to sit so far apart?

Anakin’s eyes locked onto you, his intense blue gaze both assessing and amused. A faint, almost secretive smile played at the corner of his lips. “So, tell us…” he began, his voice deep and inviting, yet sharp as a blade. “You made the first move, huh? ‘Cause, let’s face it, Luke doesn’t have an ounce of attitude.”

Padmé’s lips tightened almost imperceptibly, her eyes darting toward her husband, but she said nothing.

“What, dear?” Anakin continued, tone casual but with a teasing edge. “We both know our son didn’t even have the guts to say his order was wrong. It was always Leia who did it for him.” His eyes flicked back to you, glimmering with something between curiosity and mischief. “Let alone asking a pretty girl out…”

Heat flushed your cheeks. It was a throwaway comment, surely not meant seriously, yet the word “pretty” lingered, stirring a whirlwind in your chest.

Padmé’s spoon clinked softly against her plate, her gaze fixed downward. He shrugged, an air of indifference cloaking him. Yet, when he looked back at you, there was an intensity—a fleeting moment where his mask slipped. You couldn’t tell if it was defiance, regret, or something else entirely.

The charged tension between you and Anakin dissolved like mist with the arrival of Leia and her boyfriend. Padmé's face softened, a genuine smile breaking through her composed exterior as she hugged her daughter. For a moment, the warmth felt real, unforced.

Anakin’s voice, however, sliced through the atmosphere, sharp and bitter. “Ah, still you, Han. I was hoping Leia’s taste might have improved now that her brain is fully developed.” His tone dripped with sarcasm, and he made no effort to hide the disdain etched in every word.

Leia shot her father a glare, but Han’s smug grin didn’t falter. He extended a hand, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Always a pleasure, father-in-law.” The greeting oozed sarcasm, a barely veiled challenge.

Anakin’s eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a thin line as he gripped Han’s hand, his knuckles white. The firm shake—a trick he’d perfected in the army—conveyed all the contempt he couldn’t say out loud. Han’s smirk faltered for a split second, his fingers flexing as he pulled his hand back. He masked the pain well, but you caught the flicker of discomfort in his eyes.

“Where’s the boy?” Han muttered, shaking out his hand subtly, scanning the room for Luke.

“Here. Sorry I’m late.” Luke’s voice broke the tension as he slid into the seat beside you. Relief flooded through your shoulders. You hadn’t realized how tightly wound you’d been until his familiar presence settled next to you.

“I almost thought I’d have to keep your girlfriend entertained while you were gone.” Anakin’s voice, soft yet edged, drew your gaze. His smile seemed innocent, but the intensity in his eyes betrayed something else—a quiet, knowing challenge.

Your heart stuttered. There was something about the way he looked at you, those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through your façade. Like he knew exactly how he unsettled you, and took a quiet pleasure in pushing just enough to watch your reaction. You glanced away, trying to steady your breathing.

Padmé’s polite voice broke the silence, a thin thread of calm against the undercurrent of tension. “Now that we’re all here, shall we have dinner served?”

You forced a smile, nodding, but your mind was elsewhere. You had expected dinner to be calm. A sweet mistake, you realized too late.

As the courses were served, the conversation flowed naturally, wine glasses refilling with a quiet, unnoticed regularity. Leia shared news about college and her efforts to establish a student league. Luke chimed in about his progress in his engineering internship, and Padmé’s pride shone through her warm, attentive smiles. She spoke about her projects in the Senate, her tone composed and confident—a stark contrast to the simmering tension in her eyes whenever Anakin refilled his glass.

Han joined in, detailing his venture with Lando Calrissian. You listened, suspicion tingling at the back of your mind. Something about his elaborate plan didn’t sit right; it sounded too slick, too legally ambiguous. You said nothing, sipping your wine, letting the conversation wash over you. Anakin noticed your quietness, his piercing gaze lingering on you more often than it should.

“Oh, please, let your girlfriend talk a little, Luke… indulge us with your voice, dear,” Anakin drawled, his voice already hoarse and slurred from the alcohol. His eyes, sharp even through the haze of whiskey, locked onto yours. “What’s your major again?”

You swallowed hard under his intense stare, the heat rising to your cheeks. A sip of wine helped steady your nerves. You answered softly at first, but as the alcohol worked its magic, your voice gained confidence, words flowing more freely.

“Tell me more, dear,” Anakin urged, leaning forward, chin resting on his hand, eyes fixed on you as though you were the only person in the room. It was intoxicating—the way his attention pinned you under its weight. You knew it was the drink talking, but it still sent shivers down your spine.

He kept you in his focus, each question drawing you in deeper. But when his questions drifted to teasing—like what you wore to work—Padmé intervened, a strained smile barely concealing her frustration. She ordered dessert, trying to regain control of the evening.

The fragile calm didn’t last. Anakin, more energized with each drink, pushed back from the table and grabbed a microphone from the small stage in the dining room.

Leia and Luke exchanged worried glances. Padmé’s eyes widened in alarm. “What is he doing?” you whispered to Luke, but he just shook his head, jaw clenched.

Anakin’s voice, thick with whiskey, echoed through the room. “Feel my heat taking you higher, burn with me, heaven’s on fire!” He sang with an intensity that made the room shrink around you. His voice, rough yet commanding, filled every corner of the space. Padmé rubbed her temples, clearly embarrassed, but Anakin didn’t care.

“Come on, Padmé, don’t be boring. You loved this one…” His eyes flashed with a wild, rebellious light. “Paint the sky with desire, angel, fly—heaven’s on fire.”

You watched, heart pounding, as he prowled the stage, the lyrics rolling off his tongue like a promise. It was wrong—so wrong. The family’s discomfort was palpable. Yet, before you knew it, your head was nodding gently to the rhythm, drawn in by the raw magnetism he exuded.

Anakin noticed. His gaze locked onto you, a slow, dangerous smile playing at his lips. “I got a fever raging in my heart, you make me shiver and shake.”

The world narrowed to the space between you. The intensity of his stare sent heat flooding through your veins, your breath catching in your throat. How could a man be so intoxicating?

“Baby, don’t stop, take it to the top, eat it like a piece of cake.”

Your cheeks burned. It felt like a private serenade, a message only for you, even with everyone watching. You knew it was reckless, dangerous even, but in that moment, you were caught in the undertow, unable to look away.

Padmé’s voice cut through the haze. “That’s enough, Anakin,” she snapped, the sharpness of her tone slicing through the air. Leia and Luke exchanged uneasy glances, tension radiating between them.

Anakin ignored her, eyes still locked on you. “I’m getting closer, baby, hear me breathe. You know the way to give me what I need.” The words felt like a confession, a challenge, an invitation.

Padmé stood abruptly. “I’m going to bed,” she announced, her voice brittle. She walked out without another word. Leia and Han followed, the air thick with unspoken conflict.

Luke touched your arm, guiding you toward the exit. You stumbled slightly, your pulse still racing, Anakin’s voice lingering like a phantom touch. As you left the room, you could still hear him humming, his presence a storm you knew you couldn’t outrun.

[bisexualbaker]

[Image one: Stock photo of two white mice, side-by-side. The one on the left seems slightly more curious and alert, while the one on the right seems more subdued. Image two: The animated mice we're comparing the first mice to, Pinky and the Brain. Images three and four: Shere Khan from the animated The Jungle Book, and Tigger from Winnie the Pooh. Image five: Three dogs, likely from a Don Bluth film. The one on the left is stocky and gruff, the one in the middle is smaller and rather manic seeming, and the one on the right has a more heroic design. End ID.]

3D animation has its place and can do some pretty great stuff, but trying to be hyper-realistic and tell a story that would be better done with some anthropomorphic emoting? Not one of those times.

As an example: I know a lot of people are familiar with "A Bug's Life" and "Antz" being kind-of side-by-side films, with one of them being pretty obviously a "Watch me instead!" of the other. I recall people calling for more of exactly that, in fact! But far fewer people seem to remember "Madagascar"'s side-by-side, watch-me-instead film, "The Wild". It has been virtually forgotten. Having only caught a few minutes of it, really the only thing that stuck with me was how hyper-realistic Disney had made the animation when compared to Dreamworks' "Madagascar". The animals were far less easy to read, far less emotive. Meanwhile, while you can say a lot of things about Madagascar, I cannot imagine anyone claim that the animals don't emote.

If you're going to make a 3D animated or live-action remake of an existing 2D animated film, it's important to own it. Find what makes the new medium special, think about what new things you could be bringing to the story. Making things only more visually realistic is rarely the way to do this.

Since we keep getting "live action" CGI remakes of already perfectly adequate animated movies, and because people need to understand that animation is a medium and not a genre, I have prepared this primer about the importance of Visual Language for Conveying Information.

Can you tell what the personalities of these two mice are?

Can you tell now?

Which of these two tigers feels safer to be around?

Which of these three dogs is the funniest one?

If you can answer these questions, then you already have experience with the idea of visual language and stylistic choices being used to impart narrative meaning. If you can understand why these choices were made to impart meaning, then you can understand why animation is a medium for telling stories that has its own inherent value, and is not merely a "placeholder" for the eventual implementation of photorealistic presentation (aka "Live Action" CGI). Animation does not need to be "corrected" or "legitimized" by remaking it into the most representational simulation of observable reality.

[darknebula85]

23/11/2024, Log of DARKNEBULA85, 1:16 PM...

SPOILERS: Special Edition, Arcane Season 2, Episodes 7-8-9...

As I’m writing this, it’s 4:20 in the morning. I’m on a 24-hour shift, but here I am, watching the new episodes as they’ve just come out. The hype I’m feeling is so intense that I’m not even a little bit sleepy. Episode 7 is both the most beautiful and the most heartbreaking thing I’ve seen in this series. I spent the entire episode thinking, "If only everything had gone right, this is how it all could have ended…” Seeing all the characters together and alive (except Vi) made me so happy, yet it was killing me inside because, in our reality, it’s the complete opposite.Can we all agree that Ekko is the hero of this series??? A guy who had everything taken from him, suddenly gets it all back, and then has to give it up again to save his people. He succeeds in the end, but it’s still so tragic, he accomplished his mission but was left alone, without his family, friends, or the girl he loved. It’s devastating.I was absolutely crushed by the death of my favorite psychotic blue-haired girl because I held onto hope until the very last second that she would survive… But alas, it seems that in both universes, the sisters can’t be happy together. One of them always has to die. Still, I’m glad they each had someone to lean on as they mourned their lost sister (Vi with Cait, Powder with Ekko). And Heimerdinger? My poor little guy died, and no one even noticed. At least he went out happy, knowing he gave someone else the chance to achieve what he couldn’t. And Jayce… I always had faith in him. I’ve supported him since the first season, and I held back from criticizing him in earlier episodes because I knew there was a reason behind his actions. And, oh boy, there sure was. By the way, Ambessa’s design is hands down my favorite, what an absolutely spectacular character design. And the ending… It’s perfect. Everything about this series is perfect. I’ve tried to think of a single bad thing about it, and I just can’t. I don’t think we’ll see another show this perfect for a long time, it’s a true masterpiece in every sense of the word.I really hope the creators expand this universe. There’s still so much left to explore and so many storylines to wrap up, like the Black Rose. If you’ll excuse me, I’m now going to cry myself to sleep, considering I haven’t slept since 8 a.m. yesterday.

Yo seguiré en negación creyendo para mi mismo que Jinx sigue viva

Edit 10:53 PM... DUDE I’m at a party, and there’s literally a guy who looks EXACTLY like Vander. Same clothes, same hair, same beard, same size… I feel like crying and I want to die 😭

[the-cookie-dragons]

MORNING! here’s some sketches I made when I first ACTUALLY started to like them…. >o<!! I was still figuring out some design headcanons for them, and the headcanons I had last year just weren’t gonna work this time 4 me 😭

I LOVE THEMM like my friend pointed out that I make them into a very happy cuddly couple(which you’ll definitely see in my more recent drawings) and it’s so funny

[nottswitch]

Hey love, i was wondering if you could do 22 and 24 with sub Draco :) ? Absolutely loooveee ur work and I'm super curious to see what you come up with !!

hi babe, i’m so happy you like my work, and thanks for your request!! 💘 it’s my first time writing for draco, so i’m a bit nervous, but also excited. hope you enjoy :)

prompt list

22. "not here, please."

24. "it’s all over."

۶ৎ navigation ; masterlist ; draco m.list ; how to request

18+ smut

dinners at the malfoy manor had always been a fancy occasion, even with just draco’s friends – he was a bit of a show-off, or a lot, depending on his mood at the exact point in time. you were sitting next to him at the generously served table, sipping on the most expensive white wine one could find in the entirety of britain and listening to the guys discussing something quidditch-related.

his suit caught your eyes again, and you turned your head to have a better look – not that you hadn’t already seen it from all possible angles, but there was something about this particular piece that made you want to ruin the perfection that was the smoothness of the designer fabric. and you knew just the way to do it.

pretending to listen to mattheo’s endless rambling about the latest falmouth falcons win against appleby arrows, you casually slipped your hand under the table. it found draco’s thigh with practiced ease, softly caressing the silky-smooth leg of his trousers. immediately, you felt his muscles tense under your touch, which made your lips tug in a smirk around the rim of your wine glass.

"not here, please," draco whispered in a strained voice, trying his best not to look as your hand started traveling up, up, up, your fingers skimming and kneading his inner thigh. you raised an eyebrow, the gesture subtle, but obviously catching his attention even from the corner of his eye. draco swallowed, obediently spreading his legs a bit further apart to grant you access – the look in your eyes told him everything he had to know, and his cock, already half-hard, twitched at the realization of what was about to happen.

you watched the situation sinking in for him, and without further ado, placed your hand right on the tent in the black, silken fabric of his pants. draco’s fingers tightened around his own glass, as tight as his teeth were clenched – he prayed to everything that was holy that none of the guys would have an idea to ask him a question right now.

you slowly palmed him through his trousers, the time spent to get him fully hard being comically short. you felt the flutter of his pulse nearly beating out of his cock under your hand, making you feel even more powerful than you already were. draco’s thighs tensed at each movement, and you could hear his breathing getting more shallow – a sign that no one but you could understand.

a few torturous moments later, his trousers were unbuttoned, the bulge in his briefs now bared to the chilly air inside the dining room. a shiver ran up draco’s spine at the sensation, and he took another sip of wine to at least appear somewhat nonchalant. his gaze was fixed intently on mattheo, who was in the process of demonstrating a particularly impressive movement of his favourite beater during the game. under the table, hidden by the cloth, your index finger was circling the tip of his cock through the briefs, feeling the spot rapidly dampen with precum.

"f-fuck," draco quietly stuttered out, immediately washing the word down with a sip of wine. your eyebrow quirked up, and the next second, your palm landed silently but firmly on his thigh, giving it a punishing slap. draco closed his eyes, his hand almost squashing the glass, to stop himself from flinching. his cock didn’t listen, though, twitching eagerly at every single brush of your hand, be it a gentle caress or a smack.

"quiet,” you whispered, your eyes not leaving the chatting guys across the table, blissfully unaware of what their friend was going through. draco swallowed and nodded, leaning back against the leather of the chair and pretending to keep up appearances.

your hand went back between his legs, continuing the up-and-down movements over his warm length. you knew it wouldn’t take long for him to cum, not when he was in public like that, so to say. he kept still, but you could see tears starting to well up in his eyes from how painfully aroused he was and how much he was already aching to come undone.

a squeeze, and there it was. you could see draco’s legs shake under the table as his cock was nearly bursting out of his briefs, string after string of white seeping through the thin fabric and staining his pants. your hand was safely out of reach, so you didn’t even have to wipe it, just pull it up and rest it on the table. draco didn’t have such a privilege, discreetly glancing down and realizing he would have to either clean all of this up somehow or stand up with obvious white stains on his crotch. he glanced at you, his eyes pleading for you to do something, but the only thing you gave him was a small shrug. however, the sight of his glassy eyes made your expression soften just a bit.

"it’s all over," you murmured quietly, so that others wouldn’t hear. you leaned in, your lips brushing against draco’s ear and making the tiny platinum hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "if you clean yourself up nicely, i’ll give you a reward once everyone leaves."

it took everything for draco not to whimper at your sultry words. he knew exactly what you meant – the night was going to be a long one.

[starrythroat]

thank you so much im so happy to hear that!!

well i made it up

i've made them into my ocs, i can't say i've written them well or deep, i think on the contrary, but i know something about every one of them and that's the reason i decided to draw\ design that. at first i just started to headcanon story about Miraak's youth and i needed to write these priests for that, but i quickly got engaged into making these pals and honestly im now interested more in them, bc in my version at that time miraak was young and without any drama

my mini board on just two of them (Krosis and Vokun) looks like this for reference:

so... all the canonical dragon skyrim priests i did so far (sketches bc im lasy). i definitely will revisit some designs and make proper refs but i don't think there will be any major redesigns. except for vahlok im very unhappy with his design bc he looks like cofeeshop au qui gon jin, also my miraak design changes every 10 seconds so ignore him this one is already not relevant

Volsung and Vokun are left, i probably won't make Konahriik for some time due to Lore reasons

i probably need to make a tag for all this dragon priest stuff arghhh

also bonus: ocs - dragon Fostrunsuum and his priest Shulquoth. i will make more ocs bc lesser priests are important for my story

[yridenergyridenergy]

Live report - Tour24 Who Is This Hell For? 2024/11/23 at Sendai PIT

Setlist

CONCEIVED SORROW

DOZING GREEN

IIID Empire

Phenomenon

Keigaku no yoku

Magayasou

Tsumi to batsu

DIABOLOS

VINUSHKA

Soshaku

Ochita koto no aru sora

The Inferno

-encore-

The Devil In Me

Cause of fickleness

Uroko

Eddie

Wow, tonight was way more energetic and intense than in Sapporo, which makes me feel sad because Dir en grey don't tour in Sapporo every year, and it was just a matter of using one setlist versus the other.

And well, the highlight of the night was definitely that blunder Shinya did in Soshaku hahah!

First, the SE was the same. Shinya walked on stage wearing black pants rather than white like yesterday. I found that it didn't suit his grandeur that much. Die came next with the same thights but the tunic/vest he wore was white, I think with some smokey design? I was in shimote tonight, so I didn't see much of him. Overall, the members did not change places even half as much as they did in Sapporo, which is odd considering that the energy was much higher today.

Toshiya arrived and BAM, he has a beautiful red satin dress cut from a bit above the belt/hip all the way down, exposing his left leg. Sometimes, when he raised his bass, we could see his belly a bit! The top portion of the dress was like a somewhat ample dress shirt, with long sleeves and buttoned up, and Toshiya wore a black tie with golden ornaments, some dingle at the bottlm of the tie. I felt that it was a detail that tied in subtly with Kaoru's outfit, which was the Versailles/Innocent Rouge costume! It looks amazing! Nobody had mentioned that he was loyal to the style all the way to the toes: he wore shorts with black thights underneath, and I didn't see his shoes much but they seemed to match that old French royal fashion. He had an elaborate bowtie or whatever, hair tied and sleeked back except for one strand on his right. He looked downright fabulous. He remained entirely stoic and without a drop of sweat yet again tonight! Kaoru had some zigzag makeup lines on his left temple at least.

Kyo then arrived at the very end of the SE and,.as I thought I'd remembered, he walked slowly, smugly with his hands in his pockets, dressed all in sleek black. His chin was even a bit up, like he was indifferent to our cheers or that it was the very least he expected. Like damn, he and the other members know exactly what kind of effect they have on us!

Conceived Sorrow started and already, it was 100% felt, emotional. Everybody raises their hand when the line about not being able to reach comes up. Kyo ends the song with the loud a capella to seal the deal.

We didn't really do anything or make any noise after that ending, which Dir en grey seems to have prepared for because the intro to Dozing Green started soon after. Already, it was clear that Kyo was engaging us more into the show from early on, and I think he even had us sing one part in this song already.

The IIID Empire was then played, which I had kind of forgotten that it was in this tour! And man, these two shows have checked a few things off my bucketlist: I saw Toshiya throw his mic stand meters in the air, with my own eyes! Every single soul in the venue was looking forward to it, so it would be a real downer if he didn't do that one time. The crowd participated a lot in the lines, fist-pumping, etc.

And then, I really did see Phenomenon live! I feel like it must have happened in one of the early tours I attended, but I'm not sure that Kyo had been doing those hip sways with his arms up back then. If he did, then I certainly wasn't in the second row with a perfect spot on the side to watch it!

Phenomenon starts with Toshiya crouching, before any sound is even made, which is really like... intimidating hahah? He stayed in a low posture like that for a very long time.

Keigaku no yoku - How could I have forgotten last time that Kyo kicks at his crate right before the song starts? I've never seen him do it. The crate is taped to the stage, but his kick is strong enough that the crate moves forward a little. And it was an odd action today especially because I think we hadn't really cheered after Phenomenon's: "kore ijo" kind of grated by Kyo, so the kick almost gives the impression of being frustrated by our silence. Anyway, Kyo again changed most of the lyrics of Keigaku no yoku, and once it seemed like he was making a mistake and sang the second line of a verse before the first, but he ad-libbed the second portion, so let's assume it was intentional hah. I don't really remember what he said. At the end though, I want to correct that he sings about "you" shouting: "Hurry up and die!", not himself like I'd written in my 11/21 report.

Magayasou was as always Shinya's spotlight, but Kyo was definitely more invested in the song today compared to the Sapporo show. The backdrop video had a lot of colourful flowers which turned into... Mush? Something rotten? I,m trying to remember what kind of thing they transformed into by the end of the song.

I don't remember if there was as much of a break between the two songs as last time, but Tsumi to batsu came next and again, it feels like Kyo sang more diversely this time around. His growls are awesome no matter what though. He gets on his crate and crouches almost for the entire song. I think there might be a lyrics memo sheet taped there just for that song?

I think it was in Tsumi to Batsu that Toshiya literally dropped to his knees, out of nowhere? And/or there was another song where he went on one knee, then rotated to the side and stretched one leg while his bass touched the floor. Again, quite "intimidating" hah.

By the way, twice throughout the show, I can't remember which songs specifically, but Kyo was so invested that he almost fell backward from his crate. No actual danger, just a step backward which seemed to serve to catch his footing because he'd gotten intense.

DIABOLOS was once again very felt, but this time Kyo did not ask us to sing half as many "Blue Velvet"s. And by this point in the show, Kyo had already called out "Sendai" 2-3 times, and I'm certain he did during that song too. The segment before: "Saa, ningen o yamero" was also different and shouted, I'd say even more emotional than in Sapporo, like probably with Kyo clutching his shirt or his head during that part more? Oh and he thumped his mic on his chest super hard most likely in this song and another time near the end of the show.

Vinushka starts after the break with Toshiya just leaning back on his speakers, arms draped widely on his side while he looks at us sexily. There's no other way to describe it, and it's more or less appropriate for Vinushka hah?

Toshiya kept nodding and smiling at us, whether it was because we knew the beat or were reacting like he wanted to the melodies.

In Vinushka, I think it was, Kyo placed his hands at his sides, palms facing us, after throwing the mic over his shoulder, and raised his hands slowly to demand our cheers. I'd love to remember exactly what song it was, because Vinushka is pretty obvious from all the times they've played it, but the song in which Kyo did it and he got almost no response from the crowd, only after a delay, you could see that he raised his eyebrows and looked down at his positioning, as though pondering: "I'm in the right position, aren't I? Isn't it clear what I want?" It wasn't necessarily something he did every time in whatever song it was, but yeah, the crowd should have been more adaptive and smart.

Oh, in terms of Kyo's facial expressions, there's also one growl or scream he did at the end of a song, which he seemed taken aback, blinking a bit after it like he was surprised by how much it took out of him.

Soshaku... It started a bit off from the start, like Shinya was one note too late, but then he fucked up the drum melody for real by seemingly repeating that first 'phrase' of the song rather than moving on to the rest of the composition. The band kept going for a few seconds, but it was Kyo who just stared unimpressed first toward us, then circled back to stand right in front of Shinya without singing anymore. We couldn't see his face, but his posture exhibited a polite: "What the actual fuck?" Die had actually been at Shinya's platform already with one foot raised on it, but I don't know if he was subtly trying to steer Shinya in the right direction or if that's just what he wanted to do in Soshaku anyway. Once the others realized that Kyo had properly disconnected from the performance, everyone else stopped playing. Shinya appeared clueless at first, then he seemed to shake his head quickly. I don't think any words were spoken between the members. When Kyo was assured that Shinya would do his part, he turned around to face us and said: "Suman" (Sorry about that). They picked back the song from the start, and I can't say that Shinya's drumming was 100% synchronized or accurate, but at least he did proceed with a different phrase than the one he had repeated.

Kyo made extra efforts to pump us up after that, and even had us sing multiple parts of the song, from what I remember.

Same thing with Ochita koto no aru sora. Kyo gives me the impression of emitting a vibe of: "This song is yours, guys" and we sang a lot.

It was in one of those last couple of songs that Kyo actually smiled in satisfaction. Always so heartwarming to see!

Toshiya was the MVP backup vocalist as always!

The Inferno was very much the same as in Sapporo, with Kyo throwing his mic and leaving before the song's even finished. However, I think he engaged more with the audience this time, coming up in front of his crate, crouching, and at one point either in this song or another one, he even did the hook fingers or something like that toward us.

The Inferno ended much differently though, unless I missed something from being in kamite in Sapporo. Kaoru dumped his guitar near the front of the stage after he finished, Toshiya was low and dragged his bass across the floor toward the back for the audio effect and punkassery, Shinya left at some point and Die stayed to do some distortion but for a shorter period of time. He was all smiles as usual!

It was funny because all the technicians/assistants had to come on stage when the band left before the encore to clean up the instruments that had been left there, which I hadn't seen in Sapporo. Toshiya's guy even had a hard time with his mic stand, which in fact looked bent a bit. The technician tried to force it back in shape and tested its balance on the floor a couple of times. What's funny is also that Toshiya's mishandling of his bass was apparently so bad that it took forever for it to be tuned, and we chanted: "Encore! Encore!" for so long before it was ready. The poor guy didn't seem to be able to fix the cords, based on what I saw on the monitor in the background.

Maybe to make up for that delay, but it also felt that way in Sapporo a bit, but the members walked back on stage almost simultaneously, not one at a time for each to savour their cheers.

Toshiya made a gesture toward his left, presumably at Shinya, smiling and I think even clapping afterward. I don't know if the band had a mini "What the hell happened there?" chat backstage about Shinya's mistake, which could also explain why it took them so long to return for the encore.

Kyo was once again utterly nonchalant, indifferent, but in a super teasing way, as if to say: "I deserve all your cheers and attention, but it doesn't sway me."

Shinya had changed into a sleeveless version of the tour T-shirt, Die I think also had that custom sleeveless sweater, Toshiya came with the black sweater this time with the same shorts and long leather boots, Kaoru might have removed his upper jacket, and Kyo had only wiped off his sweat hah.

The Devil In Me was intense as always. Kyo did the noose at the end, and I saw exactly how he measures the right length. He didn't do the disvesting/shedding part with the mic cord afterward though. In the song, the bass seemed off at first, and we could barely hear the back vocals at all? Even more reason to have Die and Shinya properly do them on stage. Kyo asked us to sing the first or second chorus, which ends in: "What did you really love?" but it sounded like nobody sang or few people knew how long to maintain that: "Kaaaaaaaketa"

Man the people in the first row were almost not headbanging sometimes, it was so stupidly frustrating hah.

I remember Cause of fickleness starting and Toshiya just nodding like: "Yeah, you know which one." All the members who could came at the edge of the stage. Kyo had us sing most of the "Wake me up"s. He took off his ear monitor once in a while to hear better.

Uroko also had Toshiya nodding and mouthing like: "Oh yeah, you know it" hahah. Kyo demanded that we sing more than just the "Anata shidai de", or it was in another song, but man was he demanding tonight hahah. His own voice was spotless but he gotta come for us!

Before the last song, Kyo asked: "Sendai? Sendai? Sendai? Sendai?", so much that at one point we were exasperated, who else was he talking to if not Sendai hah? Then he asked us if we could go on, become one, etc. and I think his new variant where he growls about us going to die then or something?

Kyo let his mic drop to the ground after Eddie. He seemed to contemplate what to do after Shinya's last hit of the drums in the final climax, but he opted for not leaving and took one of his water bottles, drinking briefly from it, then tossing it in the crowd. Actually, I can't remember if it was with the first or second bottle, but he threw it in the general direction of someone in front of him who he gestured at and the reversed L that they had on their shirt. Hopefully they did catch the bottle meant for them, because Kyo's throw was not that gentle and precise hah. He also christened people a lot in front of his crate.

Shinya once more took a very long time to get off his platform. He seemed characteristically impassible, but everybody cheered for him, so I hope he felt our appreciation despite his mistake. He threw his four drum sticks and I believe he waved at us briefly.

Die squirted us from far away, huge smile on his lips. Kaoru did the same but just to shimote. He threw a towel right to the first few people in front of his position on stage, delicately.

Toshiya threw some picks and got on Kyo's crate to clap with us and smile. He climbed back down and bowed ever elegantly before leaving the stage.

On his way out, Kaoru pointed to the background, which had the tour name, as though to really make us think about it.

Die left with much appreciation and satisfaction as usual. People were cheering him on as he prepared his towel to throw, and he made it almost reach the back!

That's what I remember for now. I need to sleep hah.