#thought about changing mine the other day

[prentisslvr]

congrats on 100 followers. i’ve been following since your first spencer fic, checkmate. i absolutely love your writing. could i ask for a spencer reid, with prompt 4 (he’s saying it) and then 8 (with reader saying it)

WHATS MINE IS YOURS

summary; you spill something on your shirt and you borrow spencer’s

genre: fluff, mutual pining, bestfriends to lovers.

prompt; “is that my shirt?” & “stop looking at me like that.”

authors note: i’m not sure if i like this, this was a little rushed but 🤷‍♀️

you had arrived at work in a haste, two cups of freshly made coffee in your hands, one for you, the other for spencer.

which was what you did every morning, but it’d just so happened that today, emily had her intern running around completing tasks, one of them being running right into you, causing you to spill piping hot coffee all over your white top.

you would’ve screamed had it not been for the fact the intern looked like she was going to burst into tears right then and there, so with a strained smile, and a pat on her shoulder you’d made your way back to your car looking around for something to wear.

the only thing being a spencers fresh laundry you’d picked up from the laundromat for him, he woke up pretty early in the morning, but he lived a walk away from the nearest laundromat.

and since you had a car, you grabbed them for him.

he appreciated this greatly, even if it had taken you weeks to convince him to allow you to do it, you lived like five minutes away from the laundromat, he live about fifteen minutes away in a car, probably thirty minutes to walk like he did.

you just liked making things easier, penelope had once said your love language was acts of service, whatever that meant.

you walked into the bullpen in one of his button up shirts, you sigh taking a seat at your desk, the shirt was white with stripes, it wasn’t your usual attire and it drew attention, from almost everyone.

especially the man who owned it, at first, he’d just thought you changed up your style for a moment, but when he really looked, he noticed what you were wearing.

his shirt.

and, god, he was having palpitations, you were in his shirt, and you looked really good.

it was no lie to the entire team, and well, pretty much the world, that whilst you and spencer were best friends, there was something more than that between the two of you.

“is that my shirt?”

your eyes shoot up from your paperwork and you guiltily nod. “i spilt coffee and im not exactly the most prepared person in the world, i had your laundry and—”

“don’t worry about it.” he smiled cutting your little rant off. “what’s mine is yours.”

you sigh thankfully. “thanks spence, you really are a lifesaver.”

as you continued work though, spencer would not stop sending you glances, if it were someone else, you may even have seen a hint of desire in his eyes.

but it was spencer, surely he wouldn’t.

“stop looking at me like that!” you exclaimed, it’d been ten minutes and spencer wouldn’t stop staring at you, granted you’d been looking too, but still.

spencer blinks. “like what?” his ears going red, he’d been caught, but he couldn’t help it, you just looked so good in his shirt, he’d never felt so attracted to you before now.

“nothing, nevermind.” you bite your lip looking down at your work with frown and spencer smiled, he’d tell you one day.

but for now the dr would settle for his stolen glances and making sure he kept a couple spare shirts in case you ever happen to ruin one of your own once again.

[asofspades]

Thanks for the tag!

The most interesting thing about me, I don't know

I mean, I literally threw myself out of my crib at two and landed flat on my head and somehow nothing happened to me

I turned yellow a day after being home from the hospital when I was born and they had to leave me there again for a week.

And my mother wanted to name me after my grandma who was dying of cancer, my grandma basically begged her not to do that because she said that would be bad luck for me and my mother ignored her and ended up naming me like my grandma, and now she doesn't accept I want to change my name.

I had a classmate of mine become my stalker for some years, he would even send other kids to give me encrypted messages, he found my mobile number somehow when I got my first mobile and everything. But nobody would believe the lies he told about me because even the people who had beef with me for some reason knew I hated social interaction and was too unbothered to do anything he said I was doing.

One of my besties in highschool and I were both huge mythology nerds and we thought that was normal so we didn't suspect we both were neuro divergent and since we were both going through puberty we didn't realise we were experiencing gender dysphoria because we thought since the other also experienced it it must be normal😂

A college classmate clocked me as autistic on our first interaction when I wasn't even aware I was and he just blurted out "well, since you're autistic" in a conversation one day, I found that really funny. He was also the same guy who told me "should I act surprised?" When I told him I was agender 😂

I find those things really entertaining, don't know how interesting people find them.

Tags

@leo-dumb-teen-boy

it's so weird to me that everyone on this website is a human person outside of their weird internet niche so rb this with a random bit of your lore

[thiniceofeternalyouth]

MISLEADIN' ME SERIES: CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

"I CARRY YOUR HEART IN MINE"

⊳ Gojo Satoru x f!reader

series masterlist

Genre: angst, fluff, sci-fi, cosmology, smut.

Words count: ~13.3k

tw1: jujutsu kaisen 0 mild spoilers

tw2: unprotected sex, creampie

⊲ previous

There was no questioning of your conscience, no rage pressed upon you - you sat in the black office chair, still dressed in your hospital pajamas, and stared blankly at the desk. You didn't know or feel whether an hour had passed or twenty-four hours - you mourned in the dark office, the windows of which were always covered with dark gray curtains.

The dead, unlike the living, don't repay debts - you couldn't understand what you were paying for. Yes, you were a thief. Yes, you were a killer. But there were creatures on Earth who were far worse than you, and they got away with it - otherwise, if punishment came to them, it took the face of death. They didn't suffer long, they had no time to grieve, nor did their souls boil in attempts to make things right.

You were confused. You came to the deity half asleep, guilt-ridden, hundreds of thoughts and memories swirling in your head, knocking you off balance, unable to distinguish reality from dream. Slowly, you put your elbows on the table and almost knocked over the clear glass, and held your head, hiding your inhuman face from the faces that flashed before your eyes. Were they payment for your stubbornness, or were they taken away because you had allowed yourself to be happy for a moment? A haunting thought was killing you with its grief - it could have been a necessary course of events, and you should have retreated, leaving your loved ones behind, without changing anything.

If you only knew the moment it all went wrong, the day your sister was taken from you, maybe things would have been a lot easier. The slightest mistake, and your only chance to get rid of the demons could slip away. You couldn't just jump around in time because of the guilt and loneliness that fell on your shoulders - that's what common sense told you, but you couldn't recognize its voice.

In the corridor there was the distinctive sharp sound of heels on parquet, which grew louder and louder. As soon as they stopped right in front of the door, someone turned the key and, pulling the doorknob, entered the office.

"Y/N, long time no see," Laitta greeted you cheerfully, turning on the light in the room - you couldn't even hear the surprise in her voice, and you got a sense of deja vu.

She didn't pay attention to your appearance or your condition - Laitta walked smoothly to the table, and you stood up to make room for her. You turned cautiously and locked gazes with each other as the goddess sat down, and you exhaled, stepping around the table to stand across from her.

She flipped back her dark curls, sighed contentedly, pushed her laptop to her side, and opened one of the folders on the table, pouring whiskey from a crystal decanter into a clear glass. The goddess didn't care about you - you were a ghost to her.

"Give them back to me," you commanded, clawing your hands into the table, trying to draw attention to yourself. Your tone was strikingly different - just a little while ago you'd been begging Rei for it, but now you were spitting out orders.

"Give you who?" the goddess asked idly, staring at the laptop and sipping whiskey from a glass. The quiet clinking of fingernails against glass was enough to make you snap.

"My family!" you yelled, sweeping everything off the table, Laitta's eyebrows raised in confusion and she glared at you squeamishly. Her graphite table began to be covered in the darkness that your dark lines carried with them, spreading beyond your body.

"Why would I?" she asked mockingly - she wanted to chop your hands off her desk so they'd stop making it dirty. "You have nothing to give in return," she reminded smugly, leaning forward.

The creature gave an order - you obeyed. You grabbed Laitta by the neck and slammed her against the wall, the impact so strong that the shelves collapsed to the floor with their contents. Open books, broken statuettes, plants, and scattered earth sprawled around you as you pressed the goddess's neck into the wall with your forearm, tears of rage streamed from your dark eyes.

You groped Laitta - your hope was fading more and more with each empty pocket as the goddess laughed hoarsely. "Talking to you taught me a useful lesson," she chuckled huskily, clinging to your forearm with her hands. "Keep anything of value away," the woman hissed, jerking away, but your grip was firm - you only pressed her harder into the wall. Your grin and the dagger edge pressed against her throat amused the goddess more. "So what are you going to do?" she asked with contrived pity in her voice. "Kill me?"

The goddess didn't seem it, but she was on the verge of passing out - she couldn't breathe. The mirth and irony had been replaced by coldness and arrogance. "Are you seriously threatening death to someone who has lived for more than a thousand years?" she wheezed indifferently, sensing your desperation - instead of trying to offer the goddess other jewels, to find a compromise, you were immediately ready to tear her to pieces. That was your mistake, and she should have put you in your place. "The only reason I helped you that time was because you had Atlas," she said proudly, despite her position - your grip was weakening with every word she said. "You can kill me for all I care," Laitta said calmly. "No one will notice the extra few drops on your already bloody arms."

You whimpered and staggered backward in horror and denial - not a mockery, but a reminder. It seemed that your fear had come to life, and you should have stopped being afraid - you had fallen down where there were no ladders or ropes, and you had become someone who not only lived off human blood, but also enjoyed human suffering. You could not justify yourself even before the reflection in the mirror - it didn't expect explanations and reasons from you, it was blind to your suffering and attempts to return everything back to normal. It still wanted to live at any cost, but you had nothing to pay for it.    

Not to return, not to fix, but to hold on to the last opportunity for which you came into this world to be who you were. No one will pull you out of the abyss, no one will pull you deeper into it – just the balance and eternal peace you have learned since you were a child. Fill deaths with meaning, justify your deeds before the silent human wrath, and, if you were lucky, see them all again - if that side existed, maybe you would meet again.

You stood before the goddess who had lived a long time and looked at all the sins of humans, and you wanted to ask her if she had ever seen anyone worse. Laitta didn't judge you, didn't blame you, but she didn't want to help you either; resigned to the fact that you couldn't bring anyone back, you turned and walked out of her office on weak legs.  

[October 23, 2023, 04:39pm; USA, State of Alaska, Utqiagvik]

At the edge of the world, a white mist rose slowly the town over, spreading between the small houses that stood on stilts. Red spears pierced the chill haze as the sun retreated, illuminating the snow-covered roofs one last time. The few people wandered leisurely through the streets, wrapping themselves in jackets and exhaling clouds of steam.��

The North, as always, was serene and calm. Beyond the Arctic Circle, the cold dispelled people's fears about the future, there was no room for worries among the snow and ice, the gusty wind didn't drive home, on the contrary - it made get up and look around, freeze in place, feel the searing tide that flowed coldly through lungs with every breath. The feeling of frozen earth underfoot, blue colors in the sky, and a measured beating heart under the supervision of the harsh polar region mercilessly smothered any anxiety, and every tear froze in the eyes, never rolling down the cheek.

You could no longer see the shore because of the fog, but you could feel that the boat was taking you farther and farther away from it in pursuit of the white whale. You huddled as tightly as you could against the bridge, fidgeting with your orange lifejacket as you were tossed by the waves. Motorboats whizzed by, men's excited exclamations were heard, and you squinted every now and then - you should have stayed home today and not gone along with Jordan. The man standing on the bow was trying to see the escaped whale in the dark waters - white small ice floes in the distance, brazenly impersonating its tail, gave false hope.

You grabbed the side of the boat as it shook again, and looked at Jordan, who wasn't going to turn around at all, just clutching the harpoon tighter in his hand. "Jordan, the storm's coming, we have to go back!" you yelled, trying to shout over the roar of the engine and the wind.

"Quiet!" the man hissed, waving you away. He adjusted his black hat and stepped forward easily, still searching with his eyes for a hunted victim. You realized you were taking someone's place. To be more precise, you were standing where his son should have been standing - that was never an excuse for his gratuitous rudeness, but deep down you understood the man. It's hard to seal emotions inside forever - everyone coped as best they could. He chose to be rude.

Jordan wasn't a bad man - when you'd come to this town and wandered the streets as a homeless girl, he'd been the first to notice you. He'd brought you into his house, fed you, warmed you, and then, when you came to your senses, he'd let you live in his son's house for a nominal rent. Jordan had no sense of tact - he bombarded you with questions, and you had to make up a story about the tyrant father from whom you'd fled. You consoled yourself that it was partly true - you kept thinking of Rei as you told the fictional story.

The faces of those you had left behind flashed before your eyes, most vividly Gojo's face when he found out you had run away again. You couldn't see him, but your mind drew out his painful features, and in a voice that wasn't yours asked why you'd done it. You lost all sleep again, and at night, when the town was asleep and it hurt the most, you'd show up at Jordan's house - you'd always be greeted by a sleepy, disgruntled, unshaven face, but he never sent you away. You drank whiskey, played cards and did it mostly for money - when you realized that the man had a passion for gambling and a complete lack of gambling skills, you had to give in, lest he lose his small fortune and the house. But there's a silver lining - you did win yourself a few months of free accommodation.

Today was your second whale hunt - Jordan unceremoniously showed up at your house, tossed you a lifejacket, and dragged you to the dock. You tried to get through to him, talking about the forecast, but as you approached the shore, you saw people as desperate as he was - hunters crowding in, talking excitedly and getting into boats, and now you were here, in the middle of a restless ocean in a thick white fog.

Everything went smoothly on the first hunt, except for Jordan's perpetual nagging. It was the moment you realized why his son had fled to the big land, to the university - most people wouldn't want to witness a poor animal being harpooned and dragged ashore by its tail while dead blood washed over the blue waves. Even your body organized a protest at that moment, pushing nausea down your throat, but you were only laughed at - whale hunting was a tradition in these lands, a tribute to the past.

You almost flew overboard when an ice floe brought in by a swift wave crashed into your boat. The boats that were circling near you began to turn around - there was a whistling sound in the air, and that's when Jordan came out of his prostration. "Hey!" yelled the man from the other boat. "We have to turn around or we won't find shore!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Jordan spat, and turned unwillingly to throw the harpoon, heading for the bridge. "There's a reason they say a woman on a ship brings misfortune," he muttered as he passed you.

"Ya the one who brought me here!" you exclaimed, stepping onto the bridge with him. It wasn't any warmer, but the wind was no longer whipping at your face.

"Missed the white whale," he continued to lament, turning the boat toward the shore. You saw other boats whizzing past you, and they weren't even floating - they were riding the waves. Soon faint glow showed on the horizon - lights in the windows of houses called you home.

The hum of the engine died down, and the angry voices grew louder. When your boat was moored to the shore, Jordan hastily threw off his lifejacket on the deck, and then, adjusting his hat and taking off his gloves, he jumped to the ground. You followed the man, hesitating a moment.

As you stepped ashore, your head snapped up, and you looked around anxiously, feeling the stare, but there was no one you knew, only disgruntled men who were ready to blame anyone and everyone for the disruption of the hunt, even though it was the fault of the coming storm. As they stomped, shaking off the mud and sticky snow, you took a slow step back, trying to get away as fast as you could to avoid the swearing, but Jordan, sensing your cowardice, grabbed you by the shoulder. "Hey," he huffed, patting you on the shoulder. "Get us a beer while we get the boats secured on the ropes. There's got to be some use of you."

"No wonder why your son ran away from ya," you muttered, holding out your hand - you weren't going to pay for them all with your money.

"No wonder why your daddy tyrannized you," he muttered back, but put the money in your palm. "Hurry up. The storm won't wait, and we all have to go home," he said, shoving you toward the store, which wasn't far away, and even its friendly streetlight was hard to see.

The blustery wind made the snow rise and wander clumsily across the road - you tried to look at your feet, but you were surprised to realize you could barely see your shoes. Your eyelashes and eyebrows were frosting, and you threw your fur hood over your head, hugged yourself, trying to keep warm, and quickened your pace. The road seemed longer through the snow flakes than it had in the sunlight, and the light of the store was still far away.

It was getting darker. It seemed to you that behind the creak of your footsteps you heard another one - constantly frantically turning around, you couldn't see anyone in the northern darkness, and the storm, impudent, disturbed and raised the snow, drawing white silhouettes. Out of breath, you ran - climbing the stairs and bursting into the store to the tinkling of door bells, you met the surprised stare of the seller, who had been half asleep only a second ago. "Howdy," you smiled, waving your hand, and the salesman nodded confusedly.

No one came in even after five minutes of wandering between the counters. With a sigh of relief, you stopped at the liquor shelf. You should have hurried to avoid the righteous wrath of a bone-chilling Jordan, but once you were alone again, you were at the mercy of the memories that immobilized you. You'd never tell Jordan that he was the reason you hadn't fallen into inhuman despair, that his every shout and rude remark had kept you moving and thinking less about what had happened.

It's true that you couldn't bring back the dead, but you left the living behind too. You didn't talk to Dany, you didn't see Megumi, you didn't ask Issu how he was feeling or if his brother was okay, you just ran away. Your gaze mindlessly wandered over labels you couldn't read - you'd already forgotten exactly what you'd been sent here for. No matter how much you thought it was for their safety, you couldn't justify yourself - there was always a selfish purpose behind the noble one. Your possible death sounded like a quick song - until then you wanted to live like a normal person, shielding yourself from loss and sorrow. A dull life filled with peace on a far corner of the Earth - an unattainable treasure you couldn't steal, and even holding it in your hands, you knew that eventually it would be taken away by force.

In the north, the creature was silent, though hungry - you wrinkled your nose at the thought of having to go out sooner or later. There was a hospital in this town, but it was so small that there was no storage for a blood bank, which meant you'd have to get sustenance elsewhere. Gritting your teeth, you grabbed the first bottle you could find and went to the checkout counter. "Here," you said, showing the beer to the seller. "Need a six-pack. Got one?"

The salesman nodded and disappeared behind the warehouse door. You spotted a white cat with a bobbing head near the cash register, leaned your elbows on the counter, and jabbed your finger at it; it nodded merrily, hypnotizing you. You must be out of your mind to see Gojo in that cat. You shook your head and straightened up, as a salesman came out of the warehouse and placed a beer in front of you. 

The store said goodbye to you with a clink of bells, and the storm greeted you with a gust of wind and snow in your face, tearing off your fur hood. With an annoyed sigh, you pulled the hood back on. As you looked ahead, stepping onto the stairs, you froze - the northern nature had brought with it a guest that looked so much like it. You refused to recognize the white, disheveled hair in the snowy patterns, but there was nowhere to hide from the piercing blue eyes that looked at you with longing and hope. 

His voice didn't speak to you at night, nor did he appear in your dreams, nor did he beg you to return in any of your thoughts. You ran away cowardly, looking for a better life for Gojo - unless you were there, there was a monster who always cried out with terrible hunger. You dared not think of the sorcerer, for every bitter impulse to dream of his embrace was overshadowed, chased away by the memories of what he had endured while holding your hand. And as you saw him in front of you, you were trapped by the repressed emotions rushing out - you hadn't realized how much you'd missed him.

You underestimated Gojo. You couldn't believe that he would follow you, and all his students' words about him being the strongest had fallen apart - how could such a man look so miserable when he had won? You wanted to fall at his feet, to beg for forgiveness, but you kept silent, not moving - if you hadn't been born like that, you could have stayed with him, fearing nothing, but in this life your happiness had a countdown that was coming to an end. If it wasn't a demon that was going to kill you, your madness will do it then. 

The bag of alcohol fell out of your hands and rolled down the stairs and landed tiredly at Gojo's feet, and you took a step back in disbelief, shaking your head frantically, and jumped over the railing and rushed away.  

For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, even if death do you part - Gojo never made vows to you, but he was ready to fulfill them, but you didn't realize it even when he came to the far north for you. He felt your fears as his own - in every word you said, every clumsy decision you made, you wanted to keep him safe, to protect him, to spare him pain, but there was no pain greater than being alone, without you at his side.

The sorcerer was chasing you, barely able to make out your silhouette in the blizzard, barely able to see what was right in front of him. There was only one outcome to the chase - once he found you, he wasn't going to let you go, and you couldn't get away from him by hiding in the snow. Gojo ran so fast that even his anger couldn't catch up with him - it was left behind, left to the cold wind. In his imagination your reunion looked different - amidst the apologies and promises he could hear the ringing laughter, but the dreams were shattered by the blizzard and he continued to pursue you relentlessly. You were as small in comparison to him as you were nimble - the faster he chased you, the more the cold burned his lungs. 

Gojo caught up with you at the corner - you were trying to escape by ducking into a small alley between the houses. He didn't realize it, so he grabbed the first thing he could reach. Miscalculating his strength, he yanked at your hood, and you fell awkwardly into the snow. "Where are you going?" he whined, trying to get you to answer where you were going and why you were running away, but you crawled helplessly away from him, disturbing the soft snow beneath you. You could barely make out Gojo's voice through the whistling of the storm. "I asked where are you going?" he echoed painfully, and you, with your back against the pile of the house, could run no farther. He collapsed exhaustedly in front of you and raked you into his arms, despite the fact that you tried with all your might to shove him away. "No," he shook his head stubbornly, sobbing and hiding his face in your hood, his ragged breath turned into wet droplets on your neck. "I'll never let you go," the sorcerer gibbered in a broken whisper, pressing his lips to your cheek - his strong hands were freezing, but his fragile soul was burning. Your body went limp, and you lost all ability to resist. "Never, did you hear me?" you nodded weakly, pressing your nose against his wet cheek. 

You led Gojo by the hand into your house, and he followed obediently. When you got to the front door, you were embarrassed for a moment for you couldn't remember the last time you'd cleaned the porch - all around the house was covered with snowdrifts, and there was only the thin path you'd made before. As you came up the stairs, you fumbled in your pocket for your keys - you pulled them out and with trembling hands got them into the keyhole. You were afraid to look back at Gojo, so you glanced over your shoulder, smiling awkwardly before you saw him. 

You frowned wistfully, opening the door and inviting him in. It was cold and almost deserted, there was no entertainment, and after a week the familiar faces were starting to get annoying. You, taking off your jacket, threw it on a shabby, old chair at the entrance. The sorcerer, looking around and not noticing the hooks, looked confused and repeated after you. "Ya cold?" you quietly interrupted the silence. He didn't answer out loud, but slowly shook his head. "I'll... um, I'll make something for us to eat then, and you... look around for a while," you mumbled haltingly, realizing that there wasn't much to look around - the little house up north wasn't a mansion.  

You went into the kitchen, and Gojo remained standing in the living room. He shuffled from foot to foot, staring at the couch and the TV in front of him, unable to distinguish lie from truth and truth from dream. How many nights did you spend here while he was desperately searching for you? The sorcerer took a step forward and opened the left door where your clothes hung - behind it was a cramped bedroom. Glancing at the bed, he immediately realized that you hadn't slept on it once. He walked over to it, and after a moment's hesitation, sat down - the old, laundered sheets were too cold under his hands. Still not believing what was happening, he sighed convulsively, wiping his burning face with his hands. All this time he had dreamed of being as close to you as possible, but when he found you, the sorcerer couldn't stand to be near you - he thought you were about to turn him away. You had settled here, most likely living a quiet, peaceful life, and Gojo was a bitter reminder of what had happened. In his pursuit of you, he was thinking of himself, as he always did.  

Gojo flinched when you knocked on the jamb of the open door. "I just wanted to warn ya that dinner won't be hearty," you scratched the back of your head and lowered your gaze to the floor. "I wasn't expecting guests, and I didn't buy any groceries, so I hope... you'll be fine with pasta and marinara," he looked at you like you were a ghost, and your soul turned inside out at his silence. "It's almost ready," you said in a half whisper.

With a nod, the sorcerer stood up and walked past you - you leaned back weakly against the doorjamb, watching him walk away without a word.  

Gojo pulled plates from the shelf - some of them had broken, chipped edges, and he had to choose carefully. He set the dishes on the table and sat down without even inviting you in. Your zeal was fading by the second - you couldn't get him to talk. The only thing you could hear in the silence was the clinking of forks against plates. "Ya know," your voice cracked with excitement, and his heart skipped a beat, but you didn't hear it. "When we were messing around, Frank sometimes set the table, and we ate in absolute silence," you said, messing with pasta around your plate with your fork. "So say something already," you pleaded.

"Messing around? Is that what you call it?" snapped Gojo, throwing his fork at his plate - you shut your eyes involuntarily at the sound. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, startled by your reaction - the last thing he wanted right now was for you to run away again. "I don't... No, I understand why you ran away," he hissed, holding back his emotions leaning against the table, hid his face in his hands. "You think you're dangerous. I just don't understand how you could leave... everything like that," between everything, endless and boundless, the word 'me' modestly slipped in, which he didn't dare to utter. "You really never once felt like calling me?" whimpered Gojo. "Or message. Did you even think of me?"  

Fear clenched its clinging hands around your neck - you had a hard time talking about everything you felt. Gojo was beautiful in every way, except that he sometimes forgot it. You tugged at the damp sleeves of your sweater, naively hoping he'd forget his question or pretend he hadn't asked it, but your silence only pressed harder on him.

You both jumped as you heard a loud pop - the lights in the house went out instantly. Gojo moved closer to you, peering into the darkness of the hallway, and you realized what was wrong. You walked over to the window, covering the glass with your hands and peering through the storm, and noticed that there were no lights on in the neighboring windows either, though it wasn't too late for sleep. "I think the power plant's having trouble again... It happens a lot around here," you muttered apologetically.  

Your breath caught when Gojo came up behind you and put his arm around your waist - not so much from surprise as from the fact that all his clothes were damp and cold. "Oh my God!" you exclaimed, turning around. You cupped his icy cheeks, but it was as if he was bewitched and didn't feel the cold. The sorcerer, feeling you again, covered his eyes and gently rubbed his cheek against your palm, kissing it. "Get in the shower!" you worried. "I'm not gonna sit by your bedside for a week while ya sick with a fever!"

"I don't think so," he grinned playfully, covering your palm with his.

You pinched his side hard, shocked at the insolence of it - at his outraged yelp you broke free, and, panting with anger, you went into the bedroom and stopped by the dresser in front of the bed - a little rummaging through the drawers and you found candles. The locals were always prepared for such conditions. "Here," you muttered grudgingly, tossing the sorcerer a couple candles. "Go take a shower, I'll set up the rest." 

Gojo took a moment to kiss you on the forehead and quickly disappeared behind the bathroom door, taking all your irritation and anger with him. You dazedly put your hand to your forehead - not only the place of the kiss was burning, but also your whole face.

You walked around the house with the sound of running water in the bathroom, setting up candles and lighting them as the flames dimly illuminated the rooms. When the last candle was lit and there was nothing left in your hands, you didn't know what to do with yourself. You had left Gojo unanswered to the question that troubled and worried him - he was chasing you, looking for you, and you couldn't even get a word out of yourself. Disappointed in yourself, you walked over to the bed and got down on it, arms out to the sides - even though you were a coward, you were embarrassed to thank the universe that Gojo was braver than you thought he was. Thoughts that he wasn't supposed to be near you drifted away with the muffled sound of water, and your heart stopped for a moment when it did. When you heard the lock click, you jumped up and sat up - you swallowed involuntarily as he came out of the bathroom. Wearing only a towel that hugged his hips. "Wha...," you began, stammering. "Get dressed!"  

"Into what?" parried Gojo, raising an eyebrow. "Your robe fit me right here," he pointed to his waist level, and your cheeks flared. "Or do you want me to put on those wet clothes again and get sick after all?" he asked, pursing his lip pitifully.

"My turn!" you exclaimed, flying past him and closing the bathroom door with a loud slam. Gojo laughed softly but heartily - you hadn't realized how much courage it took for him to show himself in that state to you like that, or the embarrassment behind it.      

The sorcerer looked around the room, which was lit by flickering lights, and dropped his gaze awkwardly to the floor, smiling sadly. He should have done it, but you beat him to it again. He looked around the room again with a sober gaze. It was empty, uncomfortable - no framed photos stood there; no clothes strewn about. Even when he looked in the dresser, he frowned, realizing it was empty, as if you were ready to flee this town at any moment. 

Gojo was still angry, but he could never blame it on you - he blamed fate itself for keeping you away from him, for making you think that you were unworthy, that you were cruel and bloodthirsty and would hurt him sooner or later. Did you remember that you came to him in your unconscious state, silently asking for help and seeking protection? The sorcerer grinned, biting his lip - he didn't know if he'd made it up himself or if he'd read it in the memories of your face, but in the end, lying on that bed without the black orchid running through your veins and without the tourniquets that bound your limbs, you never attacked him.

Gojo looked at himself in the small mirror on the wall above the dresser, embarrassed; he no longer saw the strongest sorcerer. He was still him, but the face that appeared before Gojo was no longer smug and cocky, and the only thing missing was you standing next to him. When he caught a glimpse of you, he decided it was now or never. And never, taking its infinite nature with it, retreated. 

The sorcerer glanced timidly at the bathroom door as the sound of water behind it subsided. Slowly walking up to it, he knocked. "Mochi?" he asked. "You done?"

"Yes," you replied muffled.

"May I come in?"

"Why?" he almost laughed, hearing the childish disbelief in your voice.

"I need to brush my teeth."

"Well...," you drawled uncertainly, pursing your lips. "Come on in."

When the sorcerer came in, you stood, tucking your white robe as tightly as you could without looking at him, but the awkward and hurried movement of your hands screamed embarrassment. Pretending he wasn't interested, he walked around you and stood in front of the sink - you, chuckling, repeated after him. The only sounds in the bathroom were the water running from the faucet and the rustle of brushes. You weren't used to someone else standing next to you in the bathroom. Gojo was not used to having someone else standing next to him in general.

But you've learned.

You looked at Gojo through the mirror, and you frowned when he looked back at you, but in person - putting the brush in the glass, you snorted and walked out, trying to brazenly leave him alone with his damn towel on his hips, but the sorcerer, throwing his brush right into the sink, followed you. You squeaked quietly as you were picked up in his arms and placed on the dresser - you shook your head fearfully from side to side like you were afraid you were being watched, but really you were afraid to look directly at Gojo, at his face that was inches from yours. "I can't take it anymore," he confessed in a trembling whisper against your cheek - you shuddered invisibly at his hot breath. "I'm giving up," he exhaled soundlessly. "I lo-"

"No!" you shrieked, clamping your hand over his mouth - Gojo whimpered into your palm, his eyes squeezing shut as the unspoken words throbbed painfully in his chest. "Ya can't," you shook your head desperately, tears were welling up in your eyes. 

"Who are you so afraid of?" he asked morbidly, cupping your cheeks, trying to reassure you. Gojo knew you too well, and the fear you were feeling was not for your life at all. "Judges? I don't give a fuck about them," the sorcerer grinned bitterly. No one would drag him away, no one would take him away from you - he could pick out hundreds of words, but in this vulnerable moment, Gojo could only stroke your hair with trembling fingers.

Your wishes and your peace of mind were the undeniable priority, and so be it - his words went unspoken, but the greed inside Gojo grew more and more fiery. If he couldn't tell you that, then he'll show you. "I know what I want for my birthday present," the sorcerer said quietly but firmly, stroking your thighs.  

"What?" you asked confusedly, fixing your wet hair with your hands. "But your birthday is in December-"

"I want it now," Gojo resisted hesitantly, but squeezed your hips more stubbornly. "I won't ask for much," he promised, resting his head helplessly on your shoulder - you turned slightly and buried your cheek in his snow-white hair. When he felt that you weren't pushing him away, the sorcerer stirred and rested his forehead against yours. "Take off your mask," he asked. You, frowning, lowered your gaze. "Take it off, please," he pleaded, touching your temple with his lips - you suddenly remembered how he had asked you to take it off long ago - that request had been impertinent, insolent, and now he stood before you, waiting obediently for you to take it off. Gojo had seen you in all your forms, and you thought it would be all right for him to see the last of you.  

You wrapped your hands around his tentatively and brought them up to your face - you could feel his warm fingers shaking, and you could barely look him in the eye, but you forced yourself to feel what you had forbidden yourself to even think about before. You pressed his fingers lightly against your chin line, and he bit his lip, breathing feverishly, trying to calm his heart - Gojo realized what he had to do. He led his fingers downward, painfully slowly, along your cheekbones, and you, unable to find the courage, closed your eyes and tears ran down your cheeks. "Shh," he whispered softly, cupping your cheeks - you could almost feel how soft his lips were. "There you are," the sorcerer laughed wetly, stroking your cheeks and kissing every inch of your face. 

Gojo pulled away from you a little - the agony was tearing his patience to shreds. He ran his fingers along your chin, your nose, your lips - how could you keep it from him for so long? Your conscience had to get back at you for the sorcerer, for all the days and years he'd lived without seeing your beautiful face fully. 

Gojo moved closer and stopped right next to your lips. He breathed raggedly against them, feeling your closeness. How many nights he'd spent with you, how many days he'd been with you - all of them combined wouldn't be enough to describe a second of what he was feeling now.  

You clutched at his shoulders and froze - you knew what would follow, but you had no idea how the sorcerer would treat you afterward. You had no experience, no loving hands to caress you, no warmth to give you, and you were alone with the fear of the unknown. 

Gojo felt almost cruel - unasked, without permission, he kissed your lips, pulling you to him by the waist, trying to convey all the tenderness he'd been saving up since almost the first day you met, but his movements were curbed by fever. He couldn't resist anymore, he didn't have the strength to live without you. 

Closing his eyes as if in pain, Gojo felt uncertain. You were responding to his kiss, albeit clumsily, but whether you were doing it of your own free will or being overwhelmed by his assertiveness, he couldn't answer. His lips, trying to keep up with his feelings, barely moved, and the sorcerer panted. His hands were restless – he stroked your hair, then your soft neck, and those scars that he constantly touched reminded him how you were treated – only then did he feel how hard you were grasping into his chest.

Gojo suddenly pulled away from you and looked at you anxiously, his hands gently cupping your face. Your flaming skin felt icy, your body chilled, and you weren't looking at him - your black, frozen eyes were staring through. 

Startled, the sorcerer recoiled a little, but he was still clutching at you. "Baby," he whispered, kissing your temple. "I'm sorry. I didn't...," he mewled, biting his lip painfully. He looked at himself in the mirror that was right behind you and saw himself as an animal, no different from the ones who tortured you when you were weak. With barely suppressed anger, he pulled you against him, burying his nose into the top of your head. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to be... like this."

Gojo flinched when your fingers touched his stomach - you drew circles on his skin in soft motions. "It's okay," you murmured into his shoulder. "It's just... Can ya slow down... just a little?"

Gojo looked at you worriedly, surprised. "I...," he began, perplexed - he saw no disappointment in you. "Sure," he laughed softly, and shyness chained him - in the rush, in the greedy passionate kiss it couldn't catch up with him, but now, as he kissed you desperately but tenderly, he realized that the dream had come true. You were here with him, real and alive, responding to his kiss, stroking his cheeks, digging your fingers into his hair, pulling him closer to you. Gojo could endure anything as long as you were by his side. A thrill ran through him, unsparing his heated soul, and he grasped at you shamelessly, his hands digging into your thighs then and stroking them as if apologizing for his impatience.  

You involuntarily pressed yourself against Gojo, seeking protection - past humiliations, oppressions and torments had tried to catch up with your tenderness, to make you doubt, to push Gojo away and close in on yourself as you had always done, but this time it was different - in the light of the blazing fire your shadows cast gentle movements. Feeling how you fondled, how you pressed into him, he whimpered softly against your lips and, clutching your head, tipped you over a little and covered you with his body from the whole world, wanting to kill the bitterness of memories on your lips. The rush could have ruined everything, but Gojo, unable to resist, wrapped his arms around your waist, the privacy begged to continue. Shrouded in security, you wrapped your legs around his hips, and cowardice left your shores - you chased it away from your night with him.

You touched his towel – Gojo, frowning, pressed his hips deeper into your thighs and, whimpering, grabbed your hand and placed it back to his shoulder. Perplexed, you tried to pull away from him, but the sorcerer, whining resentfully, tried to press his lips to yours again, to feel your warm, tender tongue against his, but you stubbornly recoiled, forcing him to answer your mute question. "I'm a little shy...," Gojo muttered under his breath, embarrassed, and you laughed quietly. He scooped you up into his arms - you squeaked in surprise and clung to the sorcerer, and now it was his turn to laugh, despite the weakness he didn't show you - his legs shook long before he carried you to the bed.   

Gojo sat you down on the edge, and he, exhaling, slowly knelt down on the floor in front of you - you awkwardly tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, hiding from his blue eyes, remembering and realizing where things were going. He didn't tear your clothes, he didn't rush you, he didn't threaten you - he was subdued before you, but love wasn't something you two could subdue. Gojo wetly kissed your neck, gently nibbled at your collarbones, and when he faced reality, he clenched his teeth and pulled back. He could shamefully admit that he'd imagined it more than once, but finding himself here now, with you, he was afraid to go any farther. "What's wrong?" you asked worriedly, taking the sorcerer by the chin and forcing him to look at you.

"I'm afraid of scaring you off," he admitted honestly on an exhale, stroking your knee. "I've only just found you, and already I'm doing everything I can to get you to run away again," Gojo swallowed and looked down, and dishonor choked his neck – he was weak before the urge. "Are you sure you want to do this?" 

"No," at your answer, his heart dropped and he was ready to swallow his own desire despite its sheer size. "I don't want that. I want you," you admitted shyly. "I...," you laughed, trying to hide the brokenness in your voice. "Yeah, I'm a little scared, but it's okay if it's ya."  

For another long moment, Gojo stared at you devotedly, and then you felt his warm hands on your neck again - pulling you to him, he deepened your fragile kiss with a gentle flick of his tongue. "Can I take it off?" he dared to ask, rubbing the waistband of the robe - crumpled by your passion, it hid almost nothing, but the sorcerer wasn't going to make any more mistakes. You, closing your eyes, nodded. Covering your forehead with light, almost ethereal kisses, he slowly untied the waistband - the fabric of the old robe slid down your shoulders along with his hands. You tried to wrap your arms around yourself, to hide the scars that the sorcerer hasn't seen yet, to shield him from this picture. Gojo wasn't going to push you anymore - instead of objecting, he nuzzled against your cheek. "Hold me," he pleaded, knowing you couldn't refuse him, and you gave in and wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders.    

The walls of the windowless room no longer pressed against you, you didn't feel the dozens of clammy touches, you only wished the Gojo's hands were touching you more - they not only didn't bring any pain, they took the old one with them. He would never kneel down like that in front of anyone, he would never show obedience to anyone but you - you breathed into each other's mouths as he gently, tentatively cupped your exposed breasts, not daring to go any farther - you wrapped your palms around his and squeezed it a little harder with his hands. "My baby," Gojo moaned against your lips, and you felt unbearably hot - despite your open eyes, you couldn't see anything in front of you, but the blazing spots on your skin told you where he was kissing you. You arched your back, whimpering softly as you felt his wet tongue on your breasts - Gojo stifled your doubts, listening to your every moan, pulling you tighter against him. He licked and sucked your nipples - he was maddened by your flushed, hot skin, the way your touch silently begged him for more, unwilling to let go. It wasn't a desire - that disappeared once it was done, but it wasn't an obsession - not to keep you in a cage, not to pull your leash, but to tear it off and follow you everywhere.

Feeling brave, you pulled Gojo to you, your initiative got him confused, and Gojo whimpered into your mouth as you kissed him, responding eagerly to your urging. With his thumbs he continued to stroke your nipples, wet with his saliva, in circular motions, and you, losing your balance and your mind, caressed against him, rubbing your cheek against his in brief pauses. "I'll never hurt you," he whispered into your neck, and you frowned, trying to hide the confusion - wasn't that a necessary part of the process? But his words, unlike the memories, felt more real - you wanted to hear them more and more. 

Still sitting in front of you, between your legs, Gojo took hold of your undies and looked at you cautiously - you nodded, biting your lip. He kissed your forehead again and slowly, as if deliberately, began to pull down your underwear. You involuntarily squeezed your legs and looked away, unable to look because of the shame. You sighed in surprise, curling your toes as you felt his lips on your ankles - Gojo was moving higher and higher, kissing your shins and cold knees, and you clenched your teeth and tried to relax, and his promise, dousing you with a soft wave, helped you do it - you closed your eyes and slowly spread your legs apart, making Gojo whimper with anticipation.  

You could no longer feel the scars on your thighs - his gentle, unhurried bites burned on them. You could hear the crackling of the candles in the room, your ragged breathing and the way Gojo stroked your skin. The kiss on your lower abdomen was timid but unexpected - you twitched, and he lavished your worries with a kiss of calm and adoration as he rubbed his nose against your thigh. You weren't angelic to him, but you came to him from heaven - his most beautiful creature that Gojo had once mistaken for a monster, and he was ready to pay for it for the rest of his life. 

Gojo wanted to revel in every moment, for he couldn't hold back any longer - you felt his fervent breath between your legs, and you moved in impatience, touching his hair. A shy frenzy swept over him, and he responded to your silent request by slowly running his tongue over your clit - you tried to pull away, unaware of yourself because of the unfamiliar sensations, but Gojo whimpered pathetically and pulled you to him obsessively, drowning, eager to take all your vulnerability he felt on his tongue. 

Your moans were getting wilder, louder. You tried to muffle them against your hand, biting it painfully - he stubbornly but gently grabbed your palm and put it back in his hair, not letting you take away the melody of your pleasure, the notes he'd been searching for so long. He almost wanted to laugh triumphantly, you had nowhere to run - the sorcerer pressed you closer to his face with his forearms, his palms soothingly stroking your convulsively heaving belly. Gojo kept changing his pace, giving you no time to think, taking all your thoughts from you as he gently, slowly ran his tongue, wet with his saliva and your juices, over your clit, then sucked it greedily, and the sorcerer was dizzy from the closeness - he could only moan helplessly into your pussy as you clutched desperately at his shoulders.   

Your legs began to burn, not from the pain, but from his touch - never a fraction of the pleasure you'd felt before, and your eyes widened in fear and your legs trembled as you grabbed the sheets and tried to pull away from the sorcerer again. "Don't you dare," Gojo whimpered between kisses and flicks. The towel, tired of hugging his hips, slowly slid off, falling to the floor. His hard cock throbbed painfully and he felt like his lower abdomen was about to burst, but Gojo didn't dare touch himself - he knew that if he did, it would be over before it had even begun. But he wasn't chasing his orgasm - his pleasure without yours meant nothing to him, though passion had curbed the sorcerer, but it wasn't lust that drove him, and in all his ardent, timid, jagged and sometimes clumsy movements, he tried to convey to you, the blind one, what you meant to him. He wouldn't run away in the morning, he wouldn't avert his eyes after - he would give you pleasure at night, making you laugh and protecting you during the day. "I don't- I think- I-" you stammered, almost out of breath and squirming, and he pressed your trembling legs harder against his face. 

"Do it for me," Gojo moaned with you, and you stiffened, arching your back - the orgasm drowned out all cries of consciousness that you were supposed to be in pain, and you collapsed onto the bed, freed by loving hands. You panted in affectionate but insistent oblivion, still stroking Gojo's hair as he kissed your wet, glistening thighs. With a satisfied, self-conscious smile, he climbed higher, deliberately loudly and quickly smacking your belly - you giggled stupidly, hiding your face in your hand. "Nom," Gojo bit your cheek softly, and you laughed, though both of you had tears in your eyes. "How are you feeling?" the sorcerer asked, gazing at you intently and stroking your hair - you snuggled into him, kissing his neck.   

"I didn't even know it could be like this," you admitted with an embarrassed laugh, but contrary to that, you didn't hear Gojo laughing - you looked at him worriedly and saw an anxious, wistful look. Your careless compliment reminded him of your agony. "Hey...," you began, but he playfully grabbed you, flopped you onto the pillows and plopped down beside you. "We...," you began perplexed, overcoming the awkwardness. "Um... We're not... gonna... continue?" you asked almost resentfully. Gojo had opened a new world to you, but you didn't realize that he had led you by the hand into his own where you were the only one who belonged. 

Gojo raised himself on his elbow and leaned over you, rubbing his nose against yours and lightly touching your lips with his, stroking your belly. "Baby," he whispered, holding on to his vow - he promised to keep you safe. "Is that really what you want?" he couldn't restrain himself - he sought reassurance from you by any means necessary. You frowned and nodded stubbornly, making him chuckle sheepishly. "Then listen to me carefully," Gojo ordered sternly, squeezing your stomach slightly. "If you get scared, hurt, or you just don't feel like it, you have to tell me, okay? At any moment," you absent-mindedly bit your lip and wrinkled your nose, but he took your chin with his fingers and ordered you to answer with one look. "Promise me."

"I promise," you exhaled penitently, mesmerized by the restless blue eyes.

Gojo, already missed your kisses, covered your lips with his again - he nibbled gently, searching for any spot that brought you pleasure, that made you moan into his mouth, driving him crazy. Hovering over you, covering you from the world with his body, he kissed you briefly on the forehead and tilted his head slightly to look down - he almost burned his throat with his own breath when he saw your spread legs. With light touches of his fingers he stroked your lover abdomen, preparing you, but as he looked into your eyes, the sorcerer saw no fear or apprehension in them, only the infinite trust that you entrusted to him. "I'm gonna try to put one finger in, okay?" 

"Okay," you sounded flustered, but pressed yourself harder against him, kissing his shoulder. After stroking your wet clit and getting an impatient moan from you, Gojo began to slowly put a finger into you - you shut your eyes and he stopped, seeing your jaw tense. "It's okay," you assured him, and Gojo, hesitating, continued - you were so warm inside, so tight and wet, that he, bashfully hiding his red face in your neck, began to pant.

He increased his pace, gently stroking the soft walls, trying to find the point, and he nearly came when he heard your feverish whimpering. "Right there?" he asked excitedly, catching your moans with his lips. "Am I making you feel good?"

"Yes," you panted, grabbing his forearm, not to stop him, but to warn him not to stop. Hearing the long-awaited affirmation that flew from your lips, Gojo couldn't resist - he sank into your lips frantically, tasting your pleasure, and it was the sweetest he'd ever tasted in his life. Gojo pressed relentlessly against the spot, making you squirm, shaking you free of the last shackles of protection you'd built up over the years - your eyes darkening again with recklessness.

When you felt a second finger, you immediately grabbed his wrist, stopping him. "Baby, what's wrong?" he asked anxiously, almost panickedly, examining you from head to toe. "Does it hurt?" 

"No, no, not at all," you shook your head nervously, and lifted up and began kissing his neck - Gojo gave in without a fight or objection, his head tilted back and his mouth open in pleasure. "I wanna feel ya inside me," you whispered in his ear, taking away what little sanity and self-control he had left. Whimpering painfully, he bit your lip and began to caress your tongue with his - you squeaked as he lifted you up sharply and pulled you against him. Something rustled beneath your ear, but you didn't dare open your eyes as he laid you back on the bed, and you felt something soft under your lower back - groping the pillow beneath it, you eyed him suspiciously. 

"Why?" laughed Gojo, kissing your face. "We're not young anymore, I need to watch your back. In every sense," he chuckled, tickling your sides - you squirmed, trying not to laugh, and you both exhaled. "Are you ready?" he asked suddenly, laying on top of you, and you felt his hot, hard cock pressed against your thigh.  

"Ready," you smiled, kissing his chin. Gojo put his hand under your head and cupped the back of it, rubbing the tip of his cock against your swollen clit - you let out a ragged breath as he began to enter you slowly. You closed your eyes shut, feeling the stinging sensation that was ready to burn you from the inside out - you realized your mistake as soon as Gojo stopped. Your eyes fluttered open to meet his worried blue eyes with tears in them, and you shook your head frantically, pulling him closer to you, begging him not to stop - he'd promised you wouldn't get hurt, and you believed him. 

"Shh," Gojo whispered into your forehead, and he was ready to curse all the nonexistent gods for not bestowing him with the ability to take away other person's pain. "It's okay, baby," he soothed you as you sobbed into his shoulder. "Look at me," he pleaded, stroking your hair - you obediently pulled away. "It's okay. It's me. It's just me. It's your Toru, see?" under the vast blue skies that lurked in his eyes, your pain melted and stewed. You cried out quietly as he put his cock all the way in, sinking your teeth into his shoulder. "Let's stay like this for now," the sorcerer said, giving you time to adjust, stretching you from the inside. He listened to your every breath - at first your breathing was intermittent, wet, but the more he stroked your hips, the more frantically he covered your face and neck with soft kisses, the calmer it became.

"Ya can start moving," Gojo didn't hear the order in your voice, but your wish was his command. He began to penetrate into you slowly, watching you, protecting your pleasure. Your grip on his shoulders grew stronger and you whined and nestled against him, but you didn't even have the strength to kiss him - you moaned against each other's lips, and you leaned back on the pillows, lost, but he didn't want to let you go - he covered you with himself, kissing you uncontrollably, though you could barely respond. Your hips were touching, and he thrust into you gently, but deeply, so that you could feel everything he felt - the arousal was on the surface, and he wanted to reach your depths with his own. 

"Toru," you whimpered, afraid of the nature of these feelings, afraid that you were experiencing lust instead of pain, and that it could be taken from you.

You clung to his back, to his show-white disheveled hair, and Gojo grabbed at you, pulling you by his waist, stroked your head, squeezed your breasts gently, pulling away from your lips only to press his lips brazenly into your neck and collarbones. "More," he moaned pathetically. "Say my name more," and you obeyed without orders, repeating his name like a mantra while Gojo went mad - the candles crackled mysteriously, protecting you, and the unfamiliar town, flinging blue smoke, painted your tenderness on the walls with a storm.

Unspeakable words lurked in your intertwined bodies, filled with each other - his life didn't depend on that embrace, but Gojo felt he would die if he let you go, and he clung with all his might to your vulnerability. His name on your lips was like the confession you were so afraid to utter, afraid for his life - the sorcerer was almost incoherent, oblivious to the world he lived in, for you were all that existed to him.  

Gojo sucked in air through his teeth as you began to clench around him - he whined and reluctantly stopped, realizing he was on the edge. You, in exhaustion, didn't even realize it before he started stroking your clit with his thumb in feverish, gentle circles - you trembled, and he sobbed as he saw the dark lines begin to form all over your body. "Do you really feel that much for me?" whispered Gojo in your ear, whimpering. 

"Yes," you replied tearfully to his question that had tormented his soul for several years - and if the sorcerer had once been convinced that he would spend his life here beside you, cherishing you, now he knew that he would follow you to your lands as well when your time came. "I feel it, Toru, I feel it," you cried, letting go of your essence, and it no longer dared to hurt you in his loving arms.  

"My love," your neck was wet with his tears. "You're so beautiful," Gojo whispered, kissing feverishly the patterns the other world had drawn on you. He called your name with desperate, intermittent moans, feeling how close you were - the sorcerer began to penetrate you again, his thrust grew faster and messier, and as you pressed your legs around his hips, unwilling to let him go, he began to shake with you. "Cum with me," he whimpered. "Cum with me, please," Gojo begged, trying to catch your lips with his - he pulled you against him with such force that your ribs nearly crunched, and you both stiffened in the mute scream that froze between you. You danced sensuously with Gojo on the thin edge and fell over the it with him - he pulled you with him on purpose, to a place where no one would ever find you. His whole body shuddered, and he couldn't hold back his tears - Gojo sobbed shamelessly, silently against your neck, confessing his vulnerability while the storm outside the window sang northern songs to you both.  

Returning from the heaven first, you stroked Gojo's trembling back, guarding his defencelessness as he left wet sloppy kisses on your neck. Your bodies were so close that you mistook the frantic pounding of the sorcerer's heartbeat for your own - it spread across your skin in desperate beats, making you snuggle against Gojo harder and feel more. "When did ya become a crybaby?" you asked softly, kissing his temple. 

"I don't know," he exhaled convulsively, sniffing his nose. Gojo lifted himself up, brushing his nose against the tip of yours. "It's just that you're so beautiful," he said, covering your lips with gentle kisses.   

"Mm-mm," you drawled playfully, giggling. "You said that a few minutes ago, when-" you shrieked as he started tickling you - an attempt to hide embarrassment lurked behind the sweet, little revenge. Returning to you, a wave of realization came over the sorcerer. He finally did it. You finally did it. You allowed him to get as close as you'd never allowed anyone else - thinking about it, he sniffed his nose again and burrowed into your neck. "I don't wanna ruin the moment, but can ya...," you started, and Gojo instantly lifted his head, blushing shyly - you were still involuntarily clenched around him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he apologized frantically, slowly pulled his cock out - you cringed a little, for the sensitivity reminded you of itself with an unpleasant burning. "Sorry," he repeated more quietly, kissing your forehead. "How are you?" he asked suddenly restless, nuzzling your cheek. "Everything okay? Doesn't hurt anywhere?"

Your quiet, sincere laughter awakened your shared happiness. "I feel wonderful."

"Really?" Gojo chirped softly but happily, kissing your face shamelessly and laughing with you. "Then lie here for a second," the sorcerer said, standing up - you glanced at him, but when you saw his naked ass, you looked away at the shabby wallpaper with interest. You frowned, sitting up and cradling your knees against your chest as you heard him fidgeting about, digging and rattling dishes in the kitchen, turning on the water in the bathroom, and in the intervals of silence you heard him humming to himself. "Here I am!" he exclaimed, coming back. "Miss me already?" Gojo cooed, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to you. As he handed you glasses of water, you realized how thirsty you were.

"Ya brought... water?" you asked perplexed, dumbfounded. 

"And a towel and clean panties," he announced cheekily, twirling your underwear on his finger. You looked away in confusion, sipping from your glass, but he moved closer to you and kissed the tip of your nose. "I just wanna take care of you," Gojo whispered, dispelling your doubts - even though no one had ever done this for you before, he was glad to be the first. "Here you go," he boasted proudly as you finished your water and set the glass aside. "Now...," he mumbled embarrassedly, rubbing the back of his head. "Can you spread your legs?" 

You widened your eyes in surprise, feeling your cheeks burn - it didn't feel so sharp in the embrace of arousal. But you trusted Gojo, and with shame, but without question, you slowly spread your legs apart, hiding your face in your hands. He didn't laugh at you, didn't mock you, but slowly and gently wiped your wet thighs with a damp, warm towel. You hissed involuntarily as he tried to wipe your pussy clean of your shared mess - your clit was still too sensitive. "I know, baby. Just be patient for a little while," he whispered, encouraging you. When he finished cleaning you, Gojo put your underwear on you as carefully as he had taken it off you.   

Wrapping his arms around your waist, he plopped you down on the bed, unceremoniously lay on top of you, and hid you under the covers. "That was... an interesting experience," you chuckled nervously, still in shock.

"Get used to it," Gojo murmured contentedly, making himself comfortable and resting his head on your bare chest, but despite his sleepy state, he remained awake. He was drawn to the spot between your collarbones, kissing it with excessive care, stroking it with his fingers, glancing furtively at you and pressing his lips together in resentment that you didn't understand his hints.

"Do ya want to see it?" you pity him, laughing when the sorcerer gave an overly dramatic sigh.

"I do!" replied Gojo quickly, almost desperately, cocking his head and looking at you expectantly. 

The patterns that adorned your skin came to life - they crawled smoothly across your collarbones, reaching for each other, trying to join. When they came together right in the middle, Gojo gave a quiet, amazed gasp, revealing a small, black spot right between your collarbones. "Ya can kill me right now," you whispered, closing your eyes. "I won't be happier." 

Despite your words, you weren't expecting a blade between your collarbones, but the kiss on your heart was far more deadly - it killed your doubts forever. "You will," Gojo objected stubbornly, rubbing the tip of his nose gently against the black spot. "And even then, I won't let anyone touch you."

It was caressing Gojo, rising to meet him with its little black tongues. Gojo pulled back a little, and slowly brought his finger to it, stroking it gently, as if the slightest touch could hurt you, but you breathed measuredly, calmly, lulled by the protection. The patterns wrapped around his skin, begging to stay, and the sorcerer could almost hear their desperate cry when he pulled his finger too far away - to where they could no longer reach him. "Mochi...," he began uncertainly, glaring spellbound as he connected with you. "Back then, at the first meeting, you said I killed him first. How did you know?" 

"Because I saw it," you answered half honestly. You saw him frown his eyebrows. "Your director and Nathaniel kinda happened to be acquaintances, and Yaga asked for a little backup... Nathaniel told us, so we agreed. For money, of course," you clarified, chuckling awkwardly. "Besides, the director seemed like a man who could keep a secret. So he didn't tell anyone about us, after all."

"What an old geezer-"

You, laughing, pinched Gojo's shoulder softly. "But we didn't even do anything then - you were doing pretty well on your own. We just watched the show. But a deal's a deal, and as soon as it was over, I went back to Tokyo College for the money, and I ran into... you."

"So it was you...," he exhaled, seeing the light and finding himself back in the day where he had stood staring into the darkness after killing his best friend, searching for the enemy.

"Yeah," you said faintly. "It was me." 

Gojo couldn't have predicted and laid out the cards of fate - neither of you knew what would have happened if you had shown up then, or if he had been the least bit more considerate. Maybe you would have become sworn enemies, or maybe you'd just lost a whole year - he didn't lament the lost time. All that mattered to him now was that you were together, in a small northern town, lying on a bed, drowning in each other. You were more vulnerable than ever in front of Gojo - as soon as he looked at the black spot, he covered it with his palm, and the black patterns, seeking the same caress, crawled between his fingers, wrapped around his hand. Let those who in bitter resentment or in sticky fear once called you heartless burn with wild fire - henceforth, protecting and defending, caring and cherishing, he will forever carry your heart in his.

[December 24, 2017, 08:34pm; Tokyo, Tokyo Prefecture, Tokyo College]

You strolled leisurely along the towering stone fence, the long wall of one of Tokyo College's temples stretched out on the other side - you stayed as close to it as you could, trying to get away from the purple clouds that littered the evening blue sky under the overhanging roof. You looked around absent-mindedly, trying to find a clue that would lead you to Principal Yaga's office - you'd only been there once, and now you couldn't find your way out of the maze. Driven not by a noble goal, but by money, you continued to walk slowly but stubbornly, searching.

The dry, thin branches of the trees that had been lurking behind the stone fence began to peek out - you cringed as they imprinted themselves as shadows of bony hands on the college wall, trying to reach you. The wind made them rustle - when an unintelligible and mysterious whisper crept up the back of your neck, you thought about insisting on full payment in advance.

Tired after an exhausting day, you found solace in the usual child's play - you spotted a pebble in the road and started kicking it forward. When you could see a turn on the horizon, you left your mute companion and accelerated your steps.

"...trust?" you stopped just before the turn, hearing unfamiliar voices. You should have asked for help, for directions, but your policy was simple: don't show your face to anyone. As it turned out, you were already known to those who shouldn't know, and even though Nathaniel vouched for Principal Yaga as an old acquaintance, the other strangers from the jujutsu world weren't to be trusted.

You looked back - you'd already come a long way, exploring the area, and you had no desire to turn back. You leaned your shoulder against the wall, crossing your arms lazily over your chest, and waited for the strangers to talk.

"...your doing, too?" the second man's voice sounded less surprised than indignant. You could barely make out what they were talking about, but your innate curiosity played its part, and you involuntarily began to listen to the quiet conversation. 

"It was," the first one laughed muffledly in response. You, sensing the tension, frowned - never after the raids had you had similar conversations, much less a similar atmosphere.

The more they spoke, the more you had to strain your hearing - the words grew more serious, colder and quieter. "...any last words?" you stared open-mouthed at the stone wall. Your heart was pounding as if this question was addressed to you. If you took a step forward, you could see the strangers, could catch a glimpse of the end of their story, but you were afraid to even take a breath.

"...I hate those monkeys," you squeezed your eyes shut as hard as you could, for the hoarse voice was fading before it reached you, but no matter how many words flew past you, you still couldn't think of them through the prism of sworn enemies. There was no swearing, no breaking of bones, no collapsing of surroundings, all of which reminded you of your quarrels with your sister.  "...a heartfelt smile while living in this world."

"Suguru," you stunned when you heard the name - the first time it had come out of Director Yagi's mouth as he was filling you in. Dead silence wrapped around the dry branches, and they stopped rustling. There was only a brief whisper that you couldn't distinguish.

Hot blood rang in your ears, and you missed the last words. The wind picked up the fallen leaves, and they flew away, thudding against the stone walls. There was a sharp, sloppy sound, and that conversation was silenced forever. The man didn't torture his interlocutor, didn't mock him, only gave him a quick and, most likely, painless death as if it weren't a punishment, but a deliverance.

As an unwilling witness, you shifted your fingers awkwardly over your intertwined hands like you were on the field of vigilante justice - the revelations had never been meant for you, but you couldn't just cut them out of your memory. Biting your lip awkwardly, you stepped forward.

They sat across from each other, their backs against the wall - two mutilated men. One of them was limp, covered in blood, his dead face was hidden behind stained black hair and he seemed to have no arm, while the other, hiding his face in his palm, shuddered. Your heart was pierced with sympathy - even the kindest man wouldn't so grieve for an enemy. You were immediately ashamed of your behavior - the other man's sorrow made you retreat a step, and you were dazed when a dry branch crunched beneath you. There was no time to think.

"Shading."

The man was instantly in the place where the sound came from, right in front of you. And you caught your breath. Lies and pretense aside, you admitted it to yourself at once: he was beautiful. You stood mesmerized and breathless, watching him - his blue eyes, still full of sadness, scrutinized the walls of his home, and in the light of the sunset his feelings flashed in wet streaks on his pale cheeks. Everything but him blurred before your eyes - you lowered your hands and watched helplessly as he squatted down and took a broken branch and twirled it between his fingers. Frightened, you took a step back as carefully as you could, but you were still afraid to move, but it wasn't the exposure that you were afraid of. You were suddenly afraid that you would never see him again.

When he pulled himself up and stared at the road that had brought you there, you reached out involuntarily, imagining you were standing right in front of him. Your gaze focused on the way you were fixing the unruly white strands that fell over his eyes, but you frowned disappointedly, almost resentfully, sensing the distance between you. But even if you were destined to stay in different worlds, you couldn't deny yourself the small inner request to look at him one last time.

"Relocate."

***

Standing on the middle tier of the sloping roof with pointed edges, you didn't notice the devastation around you. You didn't see the broken concrete walls and cracks on them, irrevocably destroyed temples, the trees piled on top of each other and the splinters that scattered all over the Tokyo College grounds. You gazed desperately into the pink clouds, but all you could see behind them were twinkling stars, and for the first time you were disgusted by the sight of them. You turned your gaze again to the people below, far away from you, and they were all looking upward as one, their faces shining with hope and something elusive to you. You clenched and unclenched your fists with injustice, seeing how they were all mesmerized by the sight that was invisible to you.

You'd never wanted to be near a stranger, much less one who didn't know you existed, but here you were, trying to see what made the white-haired man smile so brightly, and you couldn't help but be angry with bewilderment as his body still shuddered in pain before your eyes. "Adoptee," Rachel called to you, climbing onto the roof, panting. "Did ya get the money?"

You didn't respond. You didn't care about the reward anymore, it had lost its value. The only thing that mattered to you now was the emotion this man could evoke. "Adoptee," Rachel muttered discontentedly, and walked over and shook you by the shoulder. "Uh-oh," she drawled warily, glancing at your profile - your eyes were completely black. "Come on, let's get out of here before you scare everyone away."

"Rach," you asked with hope in your voice, looking up again. "Do ya see anything?"

"The only thing I'd like to see right now is money," she snorted indignantly, tugging at your collar. "But apparently not today."

While your sister persisted in trying to get you out of there, you wanted to be in his world and see everything through his eyes. You felt like you'd been looking at the man forever, but even that wasn't enough - you needed the revelation that lay in his smile. You were unworthy to let the mystery open its veil and let you in, but you wanted to feel what he felt, and you didn't even realize how close you were to it, for the new emotions were so hot and fervent that they burned your gut for a moment, but even they couldn't answer your question - what was it that made him so happy that was hidden from your eyes?

That invisible blinding light made you want to cry, and you shifted your sparkling gaze from the sky to him one last time.

The answer was simple. The answer was one.

It clicked inside. And if you had been human, if you had held back that impulse, that feeling would have been yours forever, but by sharing a body with a creature that had no place in this small world, you'd exposed your one desire and let others feel it, trapping yourself.

next ⊳

[docholligay]

I have no idea how wild the fandom for Hadestown is. If you don’t know me, if we’ve never exchanged words, and you have BIG FEELINGS about Hadestown that any level of critique will set off, I very much encourage you to move it along. I can’t do Hamilton 2 or whatever. (If I know you I will give you more leeway FOR SURE. I just want to keep strange weirdos out) 

First, I have to provide a little bit of context: I got in on the ground floor with Hadestown. 

Yes Doc, I too, have been obsessed with it ever since it was in previews--no, I mean, i saw folk singer Anais Mitchell perform the whole thing like 15 years or whatever ago in a converted garage venue. 

I wasn’t even in town to SEE HER, I was in town to see a different artist and this was back when live music was a bigger thing and not a dying scene, and people just bought tickets to whatever was playing on a free night. I like folk music, I liked the idea of what was then being called a folk opera. It was instant love. Orpheus and Eurydice is one of my favorite myths, I am from a rural and exploited place, I loved everything I heard, some absolutely glorious poetry going on there. Bought the concept album, forced so so many people to listen to it all the way through. Forced jetty to listen to it on our road trip! Before the musical came out even!

I have been following this musical ever since then. I kind of thought it would never get made! I followed the original version, and then the broadway one. What I’m saying is, I have what now amounts to about fifteen or so years of history with this musical, and all the changes it has gone through, and all my individual feelings about each of those changes. My evaluation necessarily lives within that context. 

This was part of the reason it took me so long to see the Broadway! I wanted the emotional space to feel however I felt about it, even if that ended up being, “I fucking hated that” and it’s hard to have that when someone buys very expensive tickets and a trip for you to see something you’ve been following for years. Part of jetty’s gift of this was “And you can hate it!!” and I knew she meant it, because when you watch something move and be workshopped and change, you get a lot of feelings about it. 

So I can’t really go, “I liked Hadestown/I didn’t” I mean, I have loved hadestown for a very long time. If all you wanted to hear was , ‘Did you like it?” oh yes! But I have at least four versions sitting my head right now, and they are all next to each other for evaluation in a way that someone who has only experienced the broadway can’t have. 

I want to provide this knowledge because my thoughts about it go so far beyond what is currently being staged on Broadway. No, this is not going to be me saying, ‘Everything was better with the concept album!” no, some things are, but this isn’t that I promise. 

Everything below this is spoilery

So, originally Hadestown was a slightly different story and admittedly, one that spoke to me more than the story I saw last night. It was a lot more specific in its earliest days--it was about an impoverished mining town. Hadestown was the company town, underground, and there was basically no mention of Hades and Persephone being actual gods, anything was winked to, but it was mostly about how the holders of capital have all the accountability of gods. The whole thing had a much stronger anti-capitalist framework, and Orpheus and Eurydice were basically naive kids who thought they could avoid involvement with the mine. Obviously, this very much spoke to me. It was matching my freak exactly. 

It is not that now. And that’s both totally expected, and disappointing to me personally. The show now is much more of a, I’m trying to put this in a way that feels less insulting because I don’t mean to be, very Captial L Liberal. Audiences who can afford Broadway tickets will eat up the vague notions of wishing for a better tomorrow and ‘show the way the world could be’ and putting this back into the framework of a story of the gods instead of the utter lack of choices available to people, that the game is rigged from the start, and Orpheus even having this chance is both an exception and a test hades expects him to fail. I get why this happens. Literally every story that has ever been brought to Broadway has had to be made more palatable to a broader audience. The story it is now, is much much more broad, much more life affirming or whatever, and much more easy to hear. I think I would like it better if I didn’t know the story from the very first versions. 

But that was not a problem last night! That was a problem when i heard the previews out of Alberta! So I’ve had years to adjust to knowing that they were going to blame Orpheus a lot more. Which I love that the Broadway seems to have backed off of! The Alberta production really sort of LAID INTO THE BOY in a way I aggressively did not care for, because it was the antithesis of the story as I understood it. Love that they took that back a step. 

Anyway, so, things I loved about the musical last night:

The staging of Wait For Me fucked SO SEVERELY that honestly it makes me forgive like 90% of the things I don’t care for in the final Broadway version, that I thought were done better in other versions. I almost cried, it was EXACTLY what I would have pictured in my head after hearing it all those years ago. It was incredible. I wish I could see it again, and study it. I am thinking about it right now! It will live rent free in my head. Perfect. 

The gal who played Eurydice has clearly listened to Anais Mitchell albums, because she sounded SO MUCH like Anais that it even took me back for a moment. 

I’m not sure if this is praise or a criticism: 

I don’t know how I feel about having Hermes as an overall narrator! I go back and forth on it and have since the Alberta came out. If I were going to do it I would do it differently than it is currently staged. Jetty was talking about how she loves when the instrumentals are onstage, and I’m the exact opposite--I mostly find it crowds the stage while not bringing much interest for me. But in general, i both like it and do not like it, to give a very useful critique. I don’t hate it, for sure. I love the opener for Wait For Me II. But overall I will probably need to think about it for another 15 years. 

Frustrations I have:

 I think I have decided that even for the MASSIVE INSANE BUCKWILD flaw of seemingly blaming Orpheus for Eurydice’s decision, the Alberta is the best version. I think I prefer the concept album on a personal level for a lot of things, but I think the Alberta is, well for starters, definitely more complete--the concept album has some massive gaps in it that desperately needed filling--but it preserved a lot of the poetry that the Broadway version seems to have stripped out while being much more mass appealing. I was particularly GALLED by the rewrite of Epic III, one of the things in the Alberta version that made me say, ‘Wow I am prepared to forgive a lot of horseshit for this song, my god” 

NEVER FORGET WHAT THEY TOOK FROM YOU

They took out "The heart of a king who loves everything like the hammer loves the nail" imagine writing that line and scrapping it, are you HIGH, fuck me running.

And I think this summarizes a lot of my frustrations about the changes between the Alberta and the Broadway. It no longer sounds like a folk opera. It has lost a lot of the poetry of the original, folk music being very grounded in lyric and somewhat less in vocal theatrics. 

Also, and this might just be an actors thing, I did not get any sense that Persephone and Hades love each other…at all. Part of the appeal for human beings named Doc who are me is that they love each other, and they can’t stand each other, and I didn’t FEEL that at all. Like i said this could be an acting thing--I was not overly impressed by our persephone broadly. But taking out her part in Chant II I think also really contributes to this problem. 

This is both the Alberta and Broadway versions: I MISS THE FATES BEING A REALLY TIGHT 40s STYLE GIRL GROUP SOB SOB SOB. In the original, the fates were the only characters ‘outside’ the story, and this was indicated stylistically by the fact that everyone else was singing folk music, and they were singing in this very different style. The idea fifteen years ago was that they actually would be dressed all in that style, but yeah, none of this happens now and i find it SOOOOOO disappointing personally. I hate their stupid costumes I hate the ‘rougher’ style of vocals I hate it so much ahahahahha. If I was going to force Anais to change one thing it would actually be this, even though it is insanely petty and silly. 

The best version of when the chips are down:

I don’t know if literally any of this is what you were looking for but I somehow deeply suspect not. I am IN THE SHIT with Hadestown though, so if you have any specific things you wanted to ask about or have me talk about, let me know! I am just cutting this off now because it’s already at 1700 words and I’m not sure anyone cares that much about my journey with the only musical I can truly say I knew about when it was still a twinkle in someone’s eye. 

(Yeah Doc, I have a question: Do you have anything mean to say about the concept album? OH BOY DO I. Some of it is to be expected like, "Uh, Anais you need the rest of the story here girl." but a huge one is I fucking HATE that she got Justin Vernon, who you know better as Bon Iver, to do Orpheus. He SUCKS. He sounds bored the whole time because that is how that motherfucker sings. I have HATED it since day one. Reeve Carney is perfect and literally what I started my local women's prayer and casserole circle to petition the Lord for.)

[criminalcinnamon]

SLEEPOVER (an alecody fic)

Yayyyy another fic!!! I've been planning to write this for MONTHS. I wrote this in like. 2 days btw, shortest time ive ever taken to write a fic. Ough

Cody was practically hopping from foot to foot as he stood outside Alejandro's apartment. He was ECSTATIC. Why? Because him and Alejandro were having a sleepover. Cody didn't have much experience with sleeping at people's houses, not having many friends when he was younger, so that excitement was also tinged with nerves. What if he messed up? What if Alejandro never let him sleep over again? He felt his hand tremble slightly as he pressed Alejandro's doorbell.

Cody was greeted with a warm smile on the other side of the doorframe as Alejandro opened up.

"Cody! Finally."

"Good to know you were waiting."

"I was, do you have everything?"

"Yeah, I mean I think so."

"Great. You should probably come in now."

Alejandro opened the door wider and stepped aside so Cody could enter. Cody glanced around, briefly looking the taller man up and down before setting his large backpack down, almost falling over as he slipped off one of the straps, winning a laugh out of Alejandro as he steadied him. Cody's face flushed and he scratched his neck sheepishly.

"So, what're we gonna do?"

"We could watch a movie."

"Ooh, okay! What should we watch?"

"I have Jurassic Park on DVD."

"Of course you do, I know it's your favourite."

"It is." Alejandro smiled sheepishly. "Although it is not entirely accurate."

"Nerd."

"Oh, hush you."

Cody giggled and wandered over to the couch before remembering something.

"Do you have the onesie?" He asked excitedly, his hands gripping the back of the couch.

"Of course I do, but do we HAVE to wear them?"

"Uh, yeah! I thought it'd be cute."

"Alright, fine. I will wear it."

"Awesome! Let me grab mine."

Cody clambered over the back of the couch - even though he could've just got up normally - and grabbed his bag before dashing to the bathroom to change. Alejandro sighed fondly and wandered into his room to change as well.

The second Cody entered the bathroom, he locked the door, just in case. He sighed and stared at himself in the mirror, starting to fix up his hair. Once he was finally done, he changed into the onesie. It was blue and shark themed, with a fin on the back and teeth and eyes on the hood, as well as a sewn on shark tail. He laughed to himself slightly before he unlocked the door and stepped back into the living room, to find Alejandro seated on the couch in his matching outfit, a green dinosaur onesie with similar features on the hood and spikes down the back and tail.

"You look adorable!" Cody hopped onto the couch next to Alejandro, who rolled his eyes playfully.

"As do you."

"Yeah, but you're cuter." Cody grinned, leaning against Alejandro.

"Fine, I suppose I am."

"That's the spirit! Now let's start up the movie, yeah?"

"Yup."

Alejandro got off the couch and bent down to grab the DVD, slipping it into the DVD player before going back to rest against the couch. Cody curled up against the former as the movie started, and Alejandro put a reassuring hand on his back.

At around the halfway mark, Alejandro broke the comforting silence.

"Do you know how inaccurate this movie is? The tyrannosaurus rex had feathers, and the velociraptors did too. The dilophosaurus did not have those things on the side of its head and it certainly did not SPIT ACID!"

Alejandro continued to rant about the inaccuracies of the movie, while Cody watched him admiringly, listening to every single word. His eyes weren't even on the screen anymore, they were focused on his boyfriend. Cody loved how much Alejandro knew about dinosaurs, and the way he was so expressive and passionate about them made it even better. He felt himself leaning even more into Alejandro, who ended his rambling to wrap his arm around him.

When the movie ended, Cody was practically half asleep. Alejandro laughed and shook him slightly.

"Cody, wake up." Cody blinked slowly and sat up properly.

"Sorry, tired."

"Let us get to bed then. Come on." Alejandro stepped off the couch and held out his hand to Cody, who took it gratefully, their fingers tangling together as they walked together. Cody couldn't really think of anything to say, so he stayed silent.

When they reached the bedroom, Cody collapsed onto the bed, burying his face in one of Alejandro's decorative pillows.

"You really are exhausted." Alejandro commented as he sat on the end of the bed. Cody shuffled over to him and pulled him down. Alejandro chuckled and wrapped his arms around Cody.

Cody groaned. "Mhm... Promise you'll stay?"

"I promise." Alejandro kissed Cody's forehead and pulled the blankets over them.

Around midnight, Cody awoke from whatever dream he was having and sat up in bed, Alejandro's arms were around his waist. He looked down at his partner, panting quietly.

"You awake?" He whispered. Alejandro yawned in response and Cody laughed.

"Sorry for waking you up."

"It is alright, I was having trouble sleeping anyway."

"Oh. Sorry."

Alejandro chuckled. "It is not related to you, do not worry."

Cody breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank god."

Cody lay back down on the bed, closing his eyes only to reopen them a second later.

"I'm hungry."

"Me too, shall we go get something to eat?"

"But I don't wanna get up..." Cody whined.

"I will get you something, stay there." Cody rolled his eyes but nodded.

Soon, Alejandro was back with a mug of hot chocolate and a sandwich.

"You made me a sandwich?"

"Yes? We were going to share."

"Great! Thanks." Cody kissed Alejandro's nose.

They settled into bed together, eating their sandwiches and drinking their hot chocolates. Cody smiled to himself, the sleepover went better than he expected, and he couldn't wait for their next one.

---------------------------------------------------

Hope yall like this one, I really enjoyed writing it 🎉

[gretavanmoon]

Keep Me In Your Back Pocket

Sam x Female Reader

6.6k words

+ Not sure if this is a one shot, a blurb, or just an extended thought, but. Enjoy an angsty little Sammy idea.

Warnings: Cursing, Yelling, Mention of Smoking & Drinking, Mention of Mental Manipulation/Abuse, Arguing, Mention of Sex.

“Alright, lay it on me.”

For the life of her, she never knew exactly what color she wanted her hair to be. It seemed like every month she was rolling the dice on something new, something fresh and vibrant that she’d never tried before. She loved it blonde, she loved it when it was a dark chestnut, even liked it the time she dyed it a bright scarlet with some kind of purple streaks. She was always changing it, always daring to be different and go against the grain of what all the other girls were into that season. Every single one of them suited her, though. As gorgeous and poignant as her features are, every different way she decided to style herself fit her perfectly. 

“I love it,” I reassure her as she asks my opinion, knowing good and well that I’d admire her in any one of her decisions on changing up her appearance. 

“Sam, you say that every time. It’s okay to have a little constructive criticism sometimes,” she scorns me with a playful scoff. “Give me your honest opinion. I can take it.”

My eyes travel to meet hers in the mirror as we both stand before it, the reflection showing my appearance as disheveled and worn, just as it always was when I’d let myself indulge too much the night before. My shirts have always stayed permanently wrinkled and unbuttoned, and my hair was always in a constant state of tangles, tied in a forgotten knot at the back of my head. 

Her, though, as perfect as a shiny new thing just unwrapped and pulled from the box. Every single morning, every single night, every single ticking second of the day, she hardly ever looked like she was out of place. Naturally gorgeous, and she never even knew it. 

She pulls her fingers through her locks, fluffing and tousling and deciding whether or not her newest color-switch decision was a good one. 

"Y/N, I swear..." I reply, my hands coming up in front of my face to show my white-flag honesty.

“Ugh,” she groans, letting her fingers drift through it from her forehead and around to the sides, watching her reflection as the hair falls like feathers in front of her face. “Don’t do me any favors.”

“No, I promise. It looks really good on you. Every time you do this, it looks good. I wouldn’t lie to you, love.” And I’d swear to it. I’m not just trying to make her feel better. 

She was like a sponge to her surroundings, soaking up her inspiration from the dust that lied on the bottom shelves of high bookcases, or from the color of a new spring bud on a flower bush in the park. She saw beauty in everything and lived with nearly no hate in her heart, much to my opposite. She’s expressive and confident, effortless but with the loudest sense of humor and style. Never settling on one facet of life, but living in the sense that she’s able to change it whenever she damn well pleases. 

Mine and Y/N’s kinship goes back longer than I can remember. The ever-changing eras of our lives had been spent side-by-side since we were kids playing Kick the Can at the end of our neighborhood’s street, waiting for the street lights to come on to tell us when to run home for dinner.

I’d seen it all… Her first crush on the boy that sat behind her when we were in fifth grade, and her giddiness when he asked her to the winter dance. I’d seen her fail her driver’s license test four times before she finally passed, giving us both the freedom of inheriting her dad’s old beater flatbed and the open road. I helped her write the letter she wrote to her high school heartthrob, telling him that she no longer had the same feelings that she did when they’d first met. And I caught the subsequent tears that fell from her eyes as she listened to the horrific rumors he’d spread about her to the entirety of the school. I sat with her while she nervously opened her acceptance letter to college. Helped her surprise her parents with their twenty-fifth anniversary gift. I watched her fall in love with a man she met while she was pumping gas at a truckstop on her way home from a Black Sabbath show. And now, just as I always have, I’m helping her to understand the true beauty that she has always had as we stand before this mirror… Me in my pleated dark jeans, and her in her white dress and veil. 

“I just… this hair color doesn’t suit me, it never has,” she argues, trying her best to pin back the bangs she’d begun to let grow out some time ago. “It makes me look older, washed-out, don’t you think?”

I sigh, running my hand over my face as we go over this round-and-round again, probably for the fiftieth time in our lives. 

“Everything suits you, love,” I compliment her honestly, not brave enough to tell her that even though I’m standing behind her and encouraging her to notice her own beauty in her wedding gown, my heart and lungs are full of stones as the reality hits me that I’m not waiting for her at the altar, dressed in a tuxedo.

“Are you not happy with how it turned out?” I press.

I find it odd that instead of her embracing the newness of her copper-blonde strands that match perfectly with the color of the trim sewn onto her wedding dress, she’s instead criticizing it. It’s completely out of character for her. Normally, she’d be falling into the boost in confidence her new color has given her. But today… 

“No, it’s great it’s just… not me,” she argues. “It’s what Bobby wanted. Said he likes me best with this shade. Says it brings out the real ‘housewife’ side of my features.”

I physically can’t help the grimace that paints my face as it contorts into confusion. “Y/N, how the fuck does a hair color reflect how you choose to run a household?”

“Shhtt, Samuel. We’re in a church for god’s sake!” she turns and hits me across the arm as I roll my eyes at her pretending to care. She turns, careful not to step on the long train of her dress as she makes her way toward me, and away from the mirror. “Sammy this… This is my natural hair color. Close to it, at least."

“Oh…” I murmur, somehow only now realizing that I in fact have never really seen her with her real, actual hair color. Not since we were young kids, anyway, when my memory begins to turn to fuzz. 

“He says he loves me just the way I am, that I don’t need anything extra to make me look beautiful,” she goes on, her face falling just a bit as her eyebrows turn down. She stays quiet as she avoids my eyes, and she knows that it won’t take much for me to become argumentative. It’s easy to do, these days. 

At the risk of me making her mad on her wedding day, I stuff my sullied hands into my pockets, finding a wire nut and a few pennies at the bottoms to fidget with. “That may be true, love, but… is that what you want? You’ve always expressed yourself with all these wild hair colors… crazy makeup and outfits and whatnot.” 

It was true, her means of expressing herself were sometimes a little unprecedented in the grand scheme of things, but that’s exactly what always made her stand out to me. Besides the fact that I’ve been in her life for the past seventeen years, and the fact that I’m madly and incredibly in love with her.

“Yeah, I know… It doesn’t feel right to me, but. If it’s what Bobby wants–”

“Is that why you aren’t wearing hardly any blush on your cheeks? And you don’t have your fingernails painted, and your fingers aren’t dripping with all that silver you’ve collected over the years?” I grab her left hand, yanking it up close to my face to eye the small shiny diamond that now adorns her ring finger. From her betrothed… as her mother called him. Hell, the guy can’t even shoot Jack Daniels without a goddamned chaser let alone notice that the woman he’s to marry has laid down her entire life for him. 

She rips her hand from mine, jerking and forceful as I look back at her face. Striking as ever, even when completely devoid of any fancy eyeliner or powder, or whatever the stuff is. 

“Where’s that sparkly lip stuff you’ve worn every single day for the past ten years? Hm? And that necklace that you never take off because it’s bad luck…” My voice is rising now as she turns her back to me. “Fuck, Y/N, even your dress… You never wanted to wear white! Your dream wedding dress, what was it you always said, ‘I’ll never wear white in my wedding, simply because society tells me I have to!’”

“Stop, Sam! Just… Stop!” she yells, turning to face me now with rage emanating from her.

My jaw is clenched as my hands have long abandoned my pockets, rising into the air now as my voice continues to rise with them. 

“Stop what, Y/N?!”

“Stop being so goddamned honest with me all the time!” she yells. 

I scoff. “You just told me to not do you any favors, this is me not doing you any favors! Exactly like you asked!” I bicker. If there's one thing Y/N and I are good at, it's arguing.

“Ugh, do you know how easy it is to lie to someone?! How easy it is to sugarcoat reality to make it a little easier for them to digest?” 

“What in the fuck are you talking about, Y/N?” I ask, straining my voice.

She’s got tears threatening to fall from her eyes, and her voice is nearly as loud as mine. I halfway want to take this outside, pull a cigarette from my pocket and keep going so that the entire church can’t listen in, but I really don’t fucking care at this point. It feels like something is brewing.

“I’m saying it’s okay to lie to people sometimes, Sam! To make them feel a little bit better about their situations, okay?”

“Why in the hell would I lie to you, Y/N?” I retort, stepping closer toward her. She folds her arms over her chest in what looks to be self-preservation. “I’ve never fuckin’ lied to you, in almost twenty years, I’ve never once not been honest!”

She’s silent as we both begin panting through our rage, having trouble holding our tongues back from what we really want to say, simply because it’s her wedding day. 

But then, fuck it. “I’m not gonna stop being honest with you just because you’re marrying him,” I bite, tossing around the idea of whether or not I should keep it all to myself, for once. 

“What’s that supposed to mean? Why’d you say it like that?” she says, uncrossing her arms. 

I think about it for a second, and normally, I’d throw my opinion of her fiance right in her face, no questions asked. But today… Today is a little different. And it hurts like hell to hold it back.

“Nothin’, Y/N,” I stammer, pulling the half-pack of cigarettes from my front shirt pocket. I waltz to the wall, taking a seat on an old wooden bench before sticking the unlit cigarette between my lips. I force it all down for the sake of her happiness, shoving my words into the deepest depths of my throat. I eye her heavily from across the room, and the tension is thick. 

Before I know it her high-heeled feet are bounding across the hardwood floor, right toward me. “No, not nothin’, Samuel.” She rips the cigarette from my lips and breaks it right in half, dropping the remnants to the floor. 

“Are you fuckin’ crazy, woman?” I exclaim, bending down to clean up the mess of filter and tobacco from the floor. 

“Damnit, answer me, Sam,” she begins to plead as I’m now face to face with her chest, and all the bright white material of her otherwise very bland wedding dress, for her taste at least. But again, I’d never tell her that. “Be a man, answer me and tell me how you really feel,” she demands. 

I can feel some new type of energy radiating from her, something that I’ve not felt from her before. And it’s then that I begin to suspect that her pleas are loaded with some other type of emotion.

I clench my jaw and stand quickly, letting the cigarette pieces fall from my hand and back onto the floor. 

“Fine, you really want me to tell you how I feel? Then I will, fuck it,” I yell. She doesn’t back down, and now I’m towering over her, watching as her cheeks redden with madness and the tears sit still, glimmering as she refuses to let them fall. “He’s awful for you, Y/N. He ain’t you. He doesn’t deserve you. Every single thing about you has changed since you got with him. He’s made you into his goddamned puppet. His fuckin’ arm candy. Stripped you of everything that you love. Everything that makes you happy–”

“He makes me happy, Sam! Don’t you see that?” she cries, finally letting one tear fall. “Just because he–”

“Does he, Y/N? Are you sure? Or are you just lyin’ to yourself because it’s what you think you want?” I go on, letting the words I’ve kept holed up fly freely. We’re quiet for a beat before I take another breath and speak again. “He gave you the big house, the boat, the money… the status… The last name that will get you whatever you fuckin’ want in this town. And look at you now. You’re a shell of yourself, Y/N. You ain’t even you anymore. You haven’t been you in a long time, and I’m just the bravest son of a bitch to tell you.”

Her nostrils flare as she crosses her arms again, her eyes flitting from the floor to me, and back. “This goes a lot deeper than him not wanting you to be you, doesn’t it, Y/N?” I ask genuinely. 

“You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, Sam,” she says through a choked sob. 

“Then tell me, Y/N! Enlighten me. ‘Cause god knows you haven’t talked to me the same in months, now. Hell, I didn’t even know about this wedding until four fuckin’ days ago…” I go on, the sting of learning about it still hitting me right in the chest. I wasn’t even going to come, but…

She shrugs her shoulders. “He just, he gets me, ya know? He’s sweet to me, buys me nice things, takes me on vacations. His family loves me, tells me he wants to start our own family as soon as we can.”

“A family?!” I practically yell in her face. “Y/N, you don’t want kids, you never have!”

“I didn’t, Sam, until I–” she swallows her words, stopping to wipe the wetness from her face. In any other instance, I’d be working hard to catch them before they ruined the mascara and shadow she spent an hour on, but she doesn’t have a stitch of anything on her face to worry about.

“Until you what?”

I watch as her bottom lip trembles, her body a shaking mess as she lets herself fall onto the bench I’d just stood from. Her eyes shoot down and her shoulders fall; the once vibrant, radiant woman I knew that had a lust for life and an enviable outlook on the world now presents herself as someone who hasn’t seen the light of day in years. Someone who is skittish, unsure, and unconfident. Someone who lives under the thumb of a man who imposes such harsh reverse psychology on her that she doesn’t even see herself changing into something that she wasn’t born to be.

“Until I saw you holding Jenny Watson’s baby boy,” she croaks, anxiously rubbing her hands together.

What?

“What do you mean, Y/N?” I ask, my voice monotone as my thoughts begin to race. I slowly walk back over, and take my seat again on the bench beside her.

She inhales with a harsh sniffle, clearing the still-falling tears away as she tries to get them to stop. It takes her a second, but she looks at me.

“Until I saw you. Holding him. It… I dunno. Made some kinda weird switch go off in my head like, maybe… They aren’t so bad, after all,” she says, crossing one leg up underneath herself. “Like if you can be so natural with one, maybe I can be too.”

I’m left stunned. Hell, I hardly even remember holding that baby at our class reunion just six months ago. The kid was cute, and reached out for me. I couldn’t say no.

“Me?” I whisper, still feeling confused. 

“Yeah, fuck. Don’t flatter yourself. Ok? It was sweet, and cute… And… made me change my mind a little,” she says. “Made me think that maybe with him, I could do it.”

Her words nearly cut me in two. With him.

“But the making them part is what’s got me worried,” she admits, throwing me for a loop again.

“Worried? Why?”

She shrugs again, and I realize I’m slowly breaking through the barrier that she’s put up between us for so long now. She’s opening up to me, just like she always did. But still yet, she can’t find the words.

I search her face as she licks her lips, kneading her hands together again as she searches for the words. Sometimes I think that I can read her mind, but as of late, it’s as though she’s a prisoner to it. I keep my eyes trained on her as she starts and stops her sentences, biting them back as if she can’t admit anything at all. Finally, it clicks.

“Don’t tell me that son of a bitch don’t treat you right in the bedroom, too. For fuck’s sake… he’s a spoiled brat and he can’t fuck?! Wow, Y/N, you really hit the jackpot!” I couldn’t stop myself. 

“Oh don’t you even fucking go there, Samuel, I swear to god.”

“Go where, Y/N? To the truth? Is that not what you’re trying to say to me? That he doesn’t satisfy you?”

“Urgh, I know I shouldn’t have clued you in like that, now you’re just going to make it all worse!” she cries, resting her veiled, copper-blonde head against the aging wall of the church.

“Worse? When have I ever made anything worse for you, Y/N? For years, all I’ve ever tried to do was make you happy, be your friend. A shitty one, sometimes, but don’t sit here and tell me that I’ve ever been anything but good to you.”

She shakes her head and closes her eyes as she cries, finally bringing her hands to her face to cover it. She’s an absolute mess on her wedding day, and it’s all because of me. And my stupid words. And my stupid honesty. Why did I have to go and fall in love with someone who I knew was too good for me? Someone who would never refer to me as anything but a good friend? 

Truly, as degenerated of a person that I am, I’m still a million times better for her than the man she is supposed to marry. And suddenly, I’m wrought with guilt.

“Please stop crying, Y/N,” I beg her, quietly and gently bringing my hand to rest on her trembling arm. “I didn’t mean to make you upset. You’re getting married in fifteen minutes, you should be bursting at the seams with happiness, right now.”

She pulls the coverage of her hands away long enough to whisper a few words. 

“I should be happy, but I’m not, am I?” 

I can feel all the blood drain from my body and straight into the basement of the church, seeping through the crack and seams of the floor as it searches for somewhere else to be. Of course she trusts me to answer that for her. The one person who she knows will be nothing but brutally honest with her, no matter what the question is.

“I wouldn’t bet my last penny on it, love,” I whisper back, hoping that it doesn’t hurt her any further. “Just because it doesn’t take a lot for you to be happy doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be given the bare minimum of something real.”

She pulls her hands away from her face, her eyes blotched and swollen as she finally succumbs to her emotions, letting her arms wrap around my neck and her head rest in the crook of it.

Just like all the other times before.

“Why do you always know exactly what to say, Sam?” she says over another quiet whisper.

I shake my head as I wrap my arms around her waist, giving her the same hug that I have on so many other occasions like this.

“I don’t. I just say what I think. And hope that maybe you’ll listen to me, one day,” I chuckle a little as I feel her lips curl into a smile on the skin of my neck, making my cold heart feel just a little bit warmer.

“When was the last time you danced, Y/N? Like, really danced?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood a little.

She pulls away and shrugs, but she makes a point to let her fingers travel down the arms of my shirt, finally letting her hand fall overtop of mine. “I don’t know. Couldn’t tell you.”

“When was the last time you went to a gig? Or on those crazy long solo road trips you used to love… Or got your art featured in that showcase you used to frequent?” I ask. Again, she has no answer. I can feel my face fall in disappointment. This guy has really done a number on her.

“Are you still making your art?” I ask. 

The look in her eyes is solemn… empty and lifeless as if she’s reminiscing on a lifetime ago. 

She shakes her head. “No. Bobby says it’s silly and pointless to express myself like that. Makes too much of a mess in the house.”

I can’t help the scoff that leaves my mouth, and the subsequent eye roll. Does he even know who she is?!

“God, Y/N… next thing is you’re gonna tell me he made you get rid of Pepper.” Her beloved black lab has accompanied her through more of her life than I have. Her true best friend and one of the best dogs I’ve ever come in contact with. 

But again, she’s quiet. 

“You’re fucking kidding me, he made you–” I can’t even finish my sentence. That evil jackass made her ditch her dog?!

“He lives with my dad, now…” she says, rubbing a stray tear from under her eye. “Bobby doesn’t like dogs.”

I cup my hand around her temple, ignoring the position of her veil as I pull her to rest her head against my chest. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. That’s the fuckin’ worst. And that makes me dislike him even more. You don’t take a woman’s dog away from her.”

“I miss him so much, Sammy,” she cries again.

“Where did my Y/N go?” My question is rhetoric, but true, all the same.

Suddenly, I can’t take it anymore. I’ve learned more shitty things about this Bobby guy in the past twenty minutes than I have in the year that they’re been engaged. Fuck, all I came in here to do was tell her congratulations. Tell her I was happy for her, even though I was going to lie through my teeth. My best friend on the planet, the one person who I can fight to the death with, and make up the next minute like it was no big deal. Though we’re older now with lives and responsibilities, I still count on her to bring me back down to earth. I still miss her when we skip a few days of talking. I still yearn to feel her near me, search for her in my dreams, hope and pray that one day the universe will allow me to call her mine. The one that’s too good for me, the one that I would walk to the end of the earth for if I knew it would make her happy. I’ve never been a romantic man, but I sure as hell know a good woman when I see one. And I’ll be damned if I let someone dull her shine any further.

So I ask, for the first and final time, as I hear a commotion starting to gather in the chapel.

I take a deep breath and gather myself, taking her hands tightly in mine as I force myself to look her in the eye. “Tell me you’re happy, Y/N. Tell me you’re really fucking happy with him, and I’ll leave. I’ll go sit in the pew and watch you vow to keep him happy for the rest of your life. All the while knowing that you’re puttin’ on a fuckin’ show for everyone,” I grit with softness, knowing that time is running out. If I’m gonna get through to her, I have to do it now.

The look on her face sends a shot through my heart, and I feel my throat tighten. Her eyes are lifeless again, and the woman staring back at me isn’t the one that I know.

Just then a soft rap on the door interrupts us, and an older lady peeks her head through to find us. “Y/N, honey, it’s time,” she says softly, her eyes landing on me as I realize it’s her grandma. 

“Ok Mamaw, thank you,” she says, wiping her face free of the dampness. 

“Samuel, I didn’t expect to see you in here,” she coos quietly with a sweet smile. 

“Afternoon Ms. Ellen, nice to see you again,” I say with a wave. 

She looks behind her quickly, checking to see if anyone had followed her. When she knows she’s alone, she lets herself a little further into the room with us. 

“I hope you’re in here telling my sweet Y/N all your long lost secrets before she’s an honest woman,” she says, folding her hands across her stomach. I’ve always loved this woman, the most picture-perfect cookie-cutter grandma with a virulent and exciting past. And, she sneaks and smokes cigarettes with me, sometimes. 

“Ah, maybe a few,” I say as I let Y/N blot her face with a tissue in the mirror. I’ve always felt like Ms. Ellen has been on my team, knowing, or better yet, able to recognize the love that I wear on my sleeve for Y/N. Sometimes those folk just have a sixth sense when it comes to these things. 

Ellen makes direct and intense eye contact with me before she mutters, “Doesn’t my granddaughter look beautiful in her dress?”

“Ah, yes,” I clear my throat, “she always looks beautiful.”

“Shame she didn’t even get to pick it out herself. Didn’t even get to try a few on to see what she might like,” Ellen says somberly. “Just had it handed to her by Bobby’s assistants.”

“Mamaw…” I hear the warning in Y/N’s voice. 

“What, child? Just telling Sammy here that I’m so happy it ended up fitting you like a glove.” I give Ellen a reassuring smile as I stand from the bench, realizing that it must be my time to go. 

Ellen turns and makes it to the door before she stops with her hand on the knob, taking a quick breath before she turns back to us. 

“Do you remember when you two were little, just kiddos in elementary school, and you decided that the two of you were going to have a wedding in my backyard?” she says. 

“Mamaw, shouldn’t you be finding your seat in the congregation?” Y/N warns her again, but it’s no use. 

“You invited all your little neighborhood friends and asked me to help you hem your dress. A bright purple one, I believe it was. Little Sammy spent all day roaming through the neighbors’ landscaping and stealing the perfect flowers to make you a bouquet. Asked me to bake cookies for your guests. Caught all the fireflies in town and stuffed them into a mason jar so that when the sun went down, you’d still be able to see to walk through the grass.”

My chest warms at the fond memory of all those years ago, back when life wasn’t real and time didn’t exist. I steal a quick glance at Y/N, standing in the mirror again as she listens to her grandmother speak. “Sam came inside and started rummaging through my cabinets, stealing the twist-ties off my loaves of bread to fashion into rings… The cutest thing I ever saw…”

“The first time I ever kissed you,” I add, once again stuffing my hands into the pockets of my jeans. 

I watch as Ellen’s face lights up with joy, and Y/N’s blushes with embarrassment. It was the first time, but it wasn’t the last. One drunken night after graduation, Y/N and I had climbed onto the roof of the old dry cleaner’s and played truth or dare. Of course, I dared her to kiss me on a whim. And by god, she didn’t hold back. It was fast and it was heavy, but I knew deep down that for her, it was all in fun.

Nothing ever went past that kiss that ended in nothing more than just a little intense drunken intimacy. Nothing except the feelings that I had for her grew tenfold, and never went away. 

“Well, anyway,” Ellen breaks the silence. “I’ll be outside, sweetheart.” Ellen sneaked back through the creaky old door, giving me a look that said ‘Last chance, honey. Don’t let her get away.’

All I can hear in the room now is Y/N taking a deep cleansing breath, smoothing the dress out over her thighs as she straightens her veil. I catch her eyes in the mirror again, giving her one last look before I begin to make my way to the door. 

“I kept that ring, you know,” she says, stopping me. “The bread tie one. I still have it.”

I turn back. “You do?”

“Mhm. In my jewelry box at home. I see it almost every day.” She’s walking toward me again, cleaning up her face and running her fingers along her tear lines. 

“Why’d you keep it?” I ask.

“Because it meant a lot to me, reminded me how much you mean to me. And it reminds me to keep my promises, no matter how simple and pointless they are. They’re still important,” she goes on, biting her lips together every few words. “Do you remember what we promised that day, Sam?”

I shake my head, the memory a little fuzzy still. “Kind of…”

“We said that even though we might not marry each other when we’re grown ups, that we’d always look out for each other. Keep each other in check. And we promised to always stay connected, no matter what.”

I nod. “Simple as that…”

She smiles. “Simple as that.”

I fight a tear, myself, as I reach in my back pocket and pull out my wallet, fidgeting through the old, worn in pockets of it in search of what I know is there, buried away but not forgotten. Finally my finger lands on it, and I gently pull it from the narrow slot. I place it in the center of my free hand, tiny, blue, tattered and worn. 

“You kept your ring, too,” Y/N says breathlessly. 

“It’s survived three wallets and an accidental trip into the trash can. But, it made it,” I say, admiring the tiny item that I only see from time to time. 

She walks closer to me, gently running her finger along it’s paper edges. “Sammy, I can’t believe you–”

“Don’t marry him, Y/N,” I blurt, the words escaping my mouth before I can even give them a second thought. “Don’t do it. Don’t marry him.”

“What?” her eyes bulge from her head as she stops in her tracks. It feels as though the entire world is standing still. 

“I said don’t do it. Don’t lock yourself away for the rest of your life. Don’t be unhappy in a relationship with a man who won’t even let you have your dog,” I’m babbling now, my chest tight and my throat on fire. I don’t even care. I needed to do it, I have to say it. 

“But, I–”

“There are no buts, here, Y/N. You still have a choice, and if what you say is true, we promised to look out for one another. This is me looking out for you,” I say. 

She stares at me as her hands drop to the sides, her demeanor less than it has looked all day. 

“That’s all I’m gonna say, Y/N. That’s all I needed to say.” I stuff the ring back into it’s place in my wallet before smoothing my hands over my hair. My breath begins to pick up and I feel my face getting hot. I turn again and head straight for the door, and I hear the music begin to echo off the walls of the church. 

“Sam, wait–”

“You know it’s always been me, Y/N. And if it’s not me, then please, for the love of god, just don’t let it be him. Okay?” I say as my hand turns the knob. “Go in there and marry him, throw away everything that makes you happy, everything that brings you joy. Makes you you. Lie to him and yourself and to everyone in there…”

I feel thick, hot tears blurring my vision as I begin to lose composure from the adrenaline of what I’m saying and doing. I shouldn’t be doing this… But also, I absolutely should.

“But if not…” I raise my hands and let them fall back to slap my sides, nodding to her in a way that I know she will understand. The last look I got of the woman I just confessed my love to was one that will be etched into my brain for the rest of my life. For the first time in a long time, I saw hope in her eyes.

I dash out the back doors of the church and down the concrete steps, out onto the quiet street straight toward my motorcycle. I hear the music swelling inside, making me feel like I can’t afford another breath. I slip my helmet on and I check my watch, 4:59PM. 

I straddle my bike and grab the handle bars, taking a glance every few seconds at the back door I had just burst through. My heart is pounding as I hear the processional music begin, and my hands are rough as I grip the handlebars. I turn the key, revving the engine to let her know that I’m out here, serious, and ready to take her away from it all…

My eyes dash again and again, willing the doors to open. “Come on, Y/N, don’t do this…”

My hands twist the bars, the calluses on my palms harshly rubbing against them as I grit my jaw side to side. The anxiety is almost worse out here than it is inside. “Come on, baby…”

It feels like an hour ticks by as the music inside swells and becomes louder, and the blood pumping through my veins strains harder and harder. My foot is bouncing nervously on the ground, ready to kick the stand at a moment’s notice. But deep down, I know I’d wait out here for her for a hundred years. I’d never stop waiting for her, until she told me to stop. 

The organ music continues and starts from the beginning again, and it’s then that I realize, it’s still playing. 

She isn’t walking down the aisle.

My eyes flit to the door again, and just as I catch sight of the evening sun brightening its golden glow onto the stained glass windows, the back door opens. Slowly, at first, just enough for me to tell it moved. 

Fuck, she’s gonna run…

The door opens a little bit more, and I see the top of her head peek through the opening. I feel like my body is about to catch on fire as I realize she’s most definitely not where everyone is expecting her to be. She slips through the door, shutting it softly behind her as she finds me parked on the street, ready and waiting. I slide my helmet off to get a better look at her, and I swear every single ounce of breath is stolen from my lungs. 

Her veil is gone, and her high heels are off, and she’s tumbling down the concrete steps through the yard, directly toward me. My breath hitches, I can’t fucking believe it. She’s gonna leave. I feel like I’m frozen in place as I watch her run to me, her hair flowing in the breeze behind her. 

She’s glowing, rushed and anxious as she bounds barefoot through the mess of cars clogging up the street. My heart is thrumming from my ribcage, and I’m positive that I’ve never seen a sight more gorgeous in my entire life. 

She’s coming… she’s really coming with me.

Finally she reaches me and the bike, her chest heaving with nerves and lost breath as I give her a surprised and pleading look. I open my mouth to speak, but I really don’t know what to say. 

She rips the helmet from my hands and places it on her own head. “You gonna get me the fuck out of here Sam? Or am I gonna have to beg you?” she boasts with that old confidence she always used to have.

I laugh through my nose as she grabs onto my shoulders and hikes up her dress to straddle the back of the bike. 

“I’d love to see you beg, love. But not today,” I reply, kicking the stand up with my right foot as we find our balance on the bike. Her arms wrap around my stomach as I take off, zipping through the mess of parked cars and straight toward the quickest way out of here. 

“Where do you wanna go?” I ask her, turning my head just a little. 

“Anywhere. Literally any place on earth that isn’t here,” she yells into my ear over the deafening sound of the engine. 

I feel like I could speed up and ride straight into the sunset, and I’m positive that she wants to disappear just as badly as I want to. I feel the touch of her sweet lips land directly on the back of my neck, leaving a tiny peck there that nearly sends me into overdrive. I’m in such harsh disbelief. But moreso, I’m thankful. 

Her lips travel from the back of my neck and around to my ear again as her arms squeeze me a little tighter. “Thank you, Sammy,” she mumbles, and I feel a warmness overtake my entire body. She has no idea that I’m the one that should be thanking her. We both let the sound of wedding bells fall into our memories, only concentrating now on the sounds of the motor running, and the tires rolling across the pavement.

[bontentrio]

questions about love

yunho x gn reader (short)

tw: angst no fluff + situationships + cheesy? maybe

a/n: pretty self indulgent lol also my picking for the member is simply because yunho is my bias (with wooyoung, but i’ve seen enough of him in this role sadly) but you can imagine this with whoever you like since i didn’t specify his characteristics besides being tall !! + not proofread

masterlist

what exactly is love?

is it to just feel loved and cherished by the one you care the most about?

or can it be found in the most random places?

in hand holding?

in lingering touches?

in soft gazes and shy smiles?

if so, then why does it hurt so much when all of that disappears?

if you closed your eyes and focused hard enough, you could still feel his perfume invading your senses, his touch on your skin, the sound of his laugh echoing in the room as he told you one of his stories about the many adventures with his friends. what a world so different than mine, you thought to yourself each time.

yunho has always been a hard working man, you knew that from the very beginning of your… relationship. kind of.

but he still made time for you at least once every week. and those nights felt magical for you, making you wonder if they were even real once you woke up the next day.

“one last kiss and i’ll let you go” he would say, holding your face in his hands as his thumbs caressed your cheeks. you would laugh, as it always happened.

“you’ve been saying that for the last hour!” you would say, making yunho bite his lip before leaning in once again. “it’s not my fault you’re so addicting”

it happened every time. and each time you would feel yourself falling a little more in love with the tall man in front of you. a little more addicted to the way his lips would feel against yours. and a little more comfortable when his hands would leave your face and go lower and lower down your waist.

it felt perfect, like you were both meant to be for each other. you could be yourself around him, and yunho would stop being “yunho from ateez”, only to become just yunho. your yunho. the one who giggles softly at the nostalgia some stories bring him. the one who would look at you like you were the one that painted the sky orange and golden, when the sun came up after a long night of talking about the secrets of life, among other things. the one who would kiss you like he had never kissed anyone else before.

so really, if love normally feels this way, so golden, so pure and unique, how can it be torn so quickly?

was it something you said?

was it something you did?

too slow? too fast?

too perfect?

what is love, then?

it surely can’t be being ignored for days. and definitely not asking a question, only to stop typing mid way and change the subject after an hour of not replying.

love isn’t supposed to induce anxiety

love isn’t supposed to be scary

or is it?

it is scary to get hurt, specially by the one you trust. but that fear is supposed to be nullified by that person. what happens when they don’t?

“hi” you texted him once.

no reply.

“can we talk?” you asked him later that day, after hours of not getting an answer. in fact, he has barely texted you twice in a week.

still no reply.

if it’s not love, then why is your heart hurting so much? you can feel it dying little by little, each minute that goes by without a single peep from him.

normally you wouldn’t even feel this way, even less for a man like him. but yunho quickly made his way into your heart, learning about the things you like and dislike, making you laugh effortlessly and blush with a single touch of his hand on your cheek. normally… no, scratch that. the connection you had wasn’t normal. friends don’t do all that. or maybe it was different for him?

how was he feeling about you?

did he feel the connection too?

was he scared? or did he trust you to not break his heart?

was he missing you the same way you did?

too many questions that probably would remain unanswered plagued your mind, day and night, no matter what you were doing. every buzz of your phone would make you immediately drop everything you were doing at the moment, just to see if it was from him. only to be left disappointed and sad when it wasn’t.

how can something so pure become so rotten, so quickly? what was once golden, now it’s painted in black and brown, as if it’s rusted and burnt.

maybe that is what love really is.

or is it not?

[ravers8fantasy]

once you open hc request again can you do doc Louis plezz

Wahey doc louis lets gooo, so sorry if these lwk suck I got major writers+art block and my creativity has just disappeared 😭 also i was tired when I made this so if you see any mistakes then IM SOSOOS SORRY!! anyway uh i hope u enjoy my....

☆Doc louis head canons!!☆

Owns a small boxing gym that he opened after he retired from professional boxing.

Also spends most of his time there its like a second home for him, he even sleeps there sometimes.

I dont think he would be in a relationship with anyone, I like to think that because he was focused on his boxing career he could never find the time for that kinda stuff.

Theres a bunch of old commercials with doc when he was in his prime. He is a little embarrased about them because the humor is outdated and cheesy.

Hates the one where he had to sing about chocolate flavoured milk. He only did it because he thought he would get the brand's chocolate milk free for life (spoiler he didnt😔).

I headcanon that he got into boxing because he used to see the matches with his dad as a kid and it inspired him

Hides his chocolate bars in the most obscure places so people dont go eating them (mac...also hippo, dont think you can sneak out of this one.), he also keeps one on him at all times.

Speaking of Mac, Doc see's himself as a farther figure for him and sees himself in Mac. (father and son duo frfr) studied all the boxers move sets so he could teach Mac better.

Before Mac came along, he used to go and watch a couple of matches and reminisce about old times.

Still has unresolved beef with some of his 'enemies' he made during his time with the W.B.V.A, sends hate paragraphs via fax machine whenever he is bored.

He literally can say anything and it will sound like an inspirational quote. Like imagine one of those silly inspirational facebook posts and its just "whats your favourite flower... Mines chocolate🤤"

Mainly listens to a mix of blues jazz and 80s hip hop, but is open to listening to other genres as well.

One time tried to show Mac his old bboy skills but straight up just collapsed in on himself on the floor.

Instead of reaching for the bottle after a hard day he will treat himself to a chocolate cake.

Doc first invented the star punch as an emergency move he would pull out from when all seemed lost. The version Mac was taught was a refined and changed version which better suited the new generation of boxing.

☆ *:..｡o♬**:..｡o♬**:..｡o♬**:..｡o♬**:..｡o♬*ﾟ ☆

Okok thats all!! I really wanted to do smth with the star punch, this headcanon is probably just a lil idea i will work on😭😭 I hoped you enjoyed!!!

[ochrearia]

Emptiness of Dreams

Dear god okay there's like a billion bitches in here. No one talks and it's YS POV but there's. A billion

I don't know how to explain this any clearer. Read between the lines. This will make sense for the people that need to I promise. Just things I want to say but can't say directly.

BFs in this one-shot: PoPr!BF (Biff, mine), cs!BF (Beefer, mine), wyd!BF (Beef, Karl's), fc!BF (Boyf, Gold's), Cyborg!BF (Cyber, Gold's), sfa!BF (Peacock, Shed's), S2!BF (Bee, Isaac's), ourple!BF (Brooke, Isaac/VS Ourple Guy), idu!BF (BJ, Storm's), mixtape!BF (Bash, Kry's), fightin!BF (Mic, Lunar's), lca!BF (Bunny, Damien's), Yourself (YS)

Blue, Bastion, Baker, and Blake are mentioned but not physically present

He knew he had a problem. Well, that was quite the understatement really. He had a lot of problems. So many to the point where YS really couldn’t understand why any of them were still here. Broken people attracted more broken people, sure. Fine. But even other broken people still had enough logic to understand when someone was too broken, right? When there were things beyond anyone’s help. Tiring aspects that were just too much to keep thinking about. It was easy for others to stop thinking about it when it wasn’t them experiencing it. YS couldn’t stop thinking. Probably never would. Every time something slipped a little bit under the surface of the water he drowned so fast. And it was so shameful that everyone got to witness it. Felt inclined to help when really, at this point, maybe it was just better to let him drown proper.

The space in between dreams was usually empty. The more people tumbling into the space meant more things would pop up, stemming from the day’s thoughts and wishes. It was always nothing but empty whenever YS was here on his own. Nothing but cold fog. Nothing friendly, nothing warm, nothing all that safe. What did that say about his thoughts and wishes, huh?

But the usual emptiness of dreams wasn’t here this time. Not that this wasn’t meant to happen, it just hadn’t happened when YS was around. Mainly because he never really slept at the same time as anyone else aside from… an exception. He’d been going on for a few days without any real, proper sleep, and while he was an Angel, a supernatural being, there was still only so much he could take before his body completely crashed on him. Which was what happened here and now, a lucky outcome that it happened to be at a time where he should’ve been asleep anyway.

So many of his brothers were here. Half of them he suspected didn’t even realize where they were. And with so many selves came a blooming of the space in between dreams. Things, thoughts, safeties and wishes. Taking form as soft wisps of smoke, alien-like grass and flowers, lavender light coming from no visible source at all. The space here never had to make any sense to begin with. It was all just dreams, mashed together in a magic link across realities that wasn’t really supposed to exist. But it did. Might as well make something out of it.

Biff, of course. Biff was almost always here when YS was, and probably the most aware of what this place even was. Not like anyone truly knew its rules. But the longer you visit, the more you get in-tune with how some things work. YS knew some of his brothers had felt him arrive here and changed their paths entirely to cross with his. The others most likely didn’t know what was really happening and were just automatically drawn to a sense of familiarity. All leading back to him. What a nice thought.

Beef and Biff were wordlessly fighting with each other for who got the space in his arms. Idiots. No damn concept of sharing. If they wanted hugs all they ever had to do was ask. They would wake themselves up with this ridiculous tussle if they weren’t careful, but YS could see the playfulness of it in each of their faces. Silent brotherly fighting. Little bastards who cared a lot about each other but refused to admit it.

Boyf and Cyber were here too. Boyf had a secured spot on his left while Cyber lay sprawled rather unceremoniously across his legs. Something akin to the indignancy pile that YS had endured back when his reach only yielded him five brothers. Now, it was so much more. He wasn’t sure if Cyber really knew where he was, but it didn’t seem to matter. There were quiet purrs coming from him anyway. If YS was there, then nothing else mattered. A bit of a terrifying thought for YS- god, when would his brain just pick one? A constant tug-of-war between reveling in the fact he was that much of a safety to someone, and fearing being so damn important.

YS wasn’t really sure where he stood with a lot of his brothers. Which was so… stupid, wasn’t it? Why didn’t he know? They all had expressed some form of deep care for him thus far, from directly saying it to just small but meaningful actions. Choosing to let him stick around in their lives. A stray passing thought. Not looking at him like he was some sort of disgusting freak. Maybe that last one was the bare minimum but it didn’t matter to him. That was still the world in his eyes after everything.

Bash was behind him, asleep. Balancing him while they leaned back to back against each other. Now, YS loved all his brothers. That was true and it would stay true. And it was painfully obvious that he trusted some of them with different things. Was that shitty of him? Maybe. Certainly felt that way to him when he wanted everyone to feel equally important. But there were so many of them now. That wish might be an impossible task now. But maybe YS would burn himself out still trying to reach it. He never wanted to leave anyone on a metaphorical level of less importance somehow.

To his brothers, he felt love and that was clear. And he should stop worrying so much about the differences in each relationship. They were all the same person but they weren’t carbon copies of each other. It would be stupid to try to condense them all down to that. And where other brothers filled holes he desperately needed fixed, Bash sort of… balanced him. He shared similarities with many of them. There was something about his one older brother that was special. YS just wasn’t sure how to convey that. Or really… fairly approach Bash like he deserved for that matter. But for now in between dreams the connection helped dampen his worries. He hoped he could believe he mattered the way he was told he does soon with him.

Peacock was on YS’s right. He was dozing too, but even in that state YS could feel an insistence to stay as close as possible. Two angels taking comfort in each other. It was funny, being a Guardian Angel and having another angel seemingly be guarding him. Beefer was somewhere nearby too. In his dinosaur form, for some reason, but maybe it was because he had no idea what this place was. Walking around. Guarding. Not just him, but everyone here. Even Boyf, despite them never getting along. Truce in the dream space. BJ kept an eye on the dinosaur lumbering around in circles. He seemed very curious about the other versions that obviously weren’t human. That, and well, it didn’t seem like any of them had seen a living dinosaur before who’s also an alien at the same time. Despite the curiosity BJ kept close to YS as much as he could, when everyone else was already crowding him.

Bee and Brooke were here as well. Lying content in the alien-like grass of the dream plains they were all sitting in together. Brooke didn’t seem very content though. Worried, hesitant. YS hadn’t gotten to talk to him a lot, and the first encounter had gone just about as wrong as it possibly could. YS didn’t think Brooke liked him at all. He’d probably prefer to be somewhere else, and that was fair. He was going through a lot as far as the angel could tell. But despite the dislike he was sticking around. Not for his peace of mind, obviously. Probably just because Bash, Bee, and Beef were clearly happy to stay here. It was enough to let Brooke take a hesitant chance.

Mic and Bunny were very new to YS, but they had made it here too. Playing chase for the sake of playing. Joy in a space they didn’t know, but it was okay, nothing could really hurt them here except their own fears. But it was clear no one truly feared where they were. It was funny, Mic was very much a little brother to YS despite him being five years older than him. Somehow. 

Yeah, no. Bash was the only one who was getting away with any semblance of taking care of YS in an older-brother kind of way. And even then YS felt some sort of guilt he was letting anyone be responsible for him.

It was weird. All of them kind of took care of him in their own ways. Just something unique and different about each one. Balance with Bash. Loyalty with Beef. Understanding with Biff. Warmth with Peacock. The list could go on, really. Though in the end they all seemingly wanted him here. Here, amongst people. Wasn’t that weird? Why did they want him here, anyway? YS still couldn’t find an understanding of that. ‘Because they wanted to’? Why? Why choose that with no real benefit?

People were so confusing.

Most of them managed to end up here tonight. That’s never really happened before. YS wondered what was different about this night. Wondered if the ones missing were awake, or just in their own dreams instead of the space in between. Blake, Blue, Baker. Good lord, if Baker was awake he swore to god he better not be creating a kitchen disaster right now. YS wondered how long it would take to get properly through to Bastion as well. Everyone, always on his mind. So many to keep track of, sometimes it made his head spin. But he’d still find room to fit in more. He had a feeling he was going to meet more brothers in the near future anyway.

People, here. With him. For him, some of them might try to say. That couldn’t be true. People shouldn’t be here for him, not when everyone else was around. Felt weird to think he was some sort of priority. But he supposed he was a massive hypocrite too. Prioritizing everyone else as much as he could, trying his hardest to treat everyone equally, make them feel special because they were. But then flinched away if anyone tried to mirror his actions.

How dumb. YS wanted someone to do for him everything he did for others, but couldn’t even be thankful to accept that if someone tried. Nothing was ever good enough, huh? Ridiculous…

Beefer turned suddenly, red eyes boring directly into the angel. Knowing. Right… emotional walls didn’t work on that one. He could tell right away. He’d made a promise to try and think like that less. He was trying. It was just harder on some days than others.

People… here. Could he indulge in saying for him? Did he deserve that, though? Unsure on that part. Whether he said it or not wouldn’t change if it was true or not. A concept there, to sit in the back of his mind, surrounded by all these people. Did he have to keep himself so lonely? YS was so afraid to somehow hurt anyone here, everyone. But would keeping himself lonely make them happy? That might just hurt them too.

He knew one of them was terrified of him leaving. Just from one old conversation. That never really left his head. But there was still a little guilt there, making him even worry so clearly about that. YS was doing his best to keep to his word- that he wouldn’t leave. Even though things kept sliding downhill so fast some days.

Maybe none of them wanted him to leave. It’s not like he wanted to leave either. Sometimes his mind was cruel, though. It was hard to tell properly if anyone cared enough for him to stay some days. Like all the progress went back to zero. Wasn’t that so exhausting? To deal with someone who needed reassurance so often?

YS wouldn’t leave. For as long as they wanted him at all, he would stay.

He had a lot of problems. Maybe he himself was a problem and it might be time to admit that. Needing so much direct reassurance almost every day. That was a problem. And he should try harder to stop doing that because he clearly wasn’t trying hard enough. He would change completely for them, because he loved them.

Maybe that was another problem.

He was just a problem, wasn’t he?

But all of these brothers were here. Loving him. Him and his problems. And YS swore to spend the rest of his time here making up for it all. However short or long that time was allowed to be.

He loved his brothers. Maybe he shouldn’t love them this much when not much time has really passed. But he did anyway. YS loved his brothers. Maybe in another reality entirely, they were all friends. A reality YS could never find, but existed anyway. He hoped so.

Friends… he hoped so. 

[keyaho]

.summary. terry and blaire have lunch in her office.

Terry lifted Blaire to sit on her desk. Open containers of take out were next to them, but he feasted on the side of her neck while rubbing her thighs. She locked her office door this time after welcoming her husband in for her lunch break. It was an informal day and students were here with parents, but she tried to structure it all so it felt like a school day. For the next two hours, however, the school was closed so the teachers and staff could take a break. The last four hours of the day was for them to finish putting together their rooms and helping parents with last minute questions and concerns. 

The strap to her dress had fallen and his mouth trailed along the skin. His beard tickled her skin and she wiggled away, a light laugh in her voice. 

Blaire held onto his shoulders, rubbing the muscles of his neck and down his arms. He had showered and changed since he agreed to take pictures with Noah after the child’s constant insistence. Terry was going to do it anyway. He’d do anything to see his son smile. The same went for his wife. Hearing her soft laughter made him feel good. He wanted to keep that feeling.

“We’re supposed to be having lunch.” She bit her lip as his mouth kissed down the front of her chest, close to the swell of her breast. 

“I’m trying to,’ he mumbled. 

Hazel eyes looked up at her, a mischievous glint in them. Blaire’s eyes widened and she snapped her legs shut. 

“Oh no,’ she says, pushing at his chest as he laughs. “We’re not doing that in my office.” 

"We've done it before." He reminds her with a smile.

"And we almost got caught."

Fixing her dress, she slid from the top of the desk and was pulled into Terry’s arms. His lips slanting over hers as he worked her mouth open. He hadn’t been able to keep his hands off of her since last night. The way she clung to him as he worked his hips between her legs was ingrained in his head. Her soft moans, the serene expressions of pleasure on her face, how her nails scratched his back up, it all reminded him of how much he loved her and every little thing about her. 

“We need to talk,’ she said, holding his jaw to keep him from kissing her. “What we expect, our plan going forward,’ 

“It’s up to me to fix all this,’ he replied, ‘you don’t have work to do.” 

“You’re not the only person in this marriage. There’s no need for you to do all the heavy lifting.” 

Terry grabbed her hand and inspected her fresh pink manicure. “What are you lifting with these soft ass hands?”

Blaire had her moments of boldness, so when she dropped her hand to his crotch and squeezed, Terry couldn’t do anything but laugh. 

“Heavy ain’t it,’ he smirked. 

“Don’t get cocky.” 

“I should have told you that when I woke up to you trying to wake it up.” His eyes darkened a little, the fun she had being on top seeped into her thoughts. “How’s that ass?” He whispered, his hand coming down to rub the very area he had slapped over and over last night. 

“We’re not supposed to be talking about this,’ she pushed him away and turned back to her food. “I’m sorry.” 

Terry took a seat in the chair behind her, his eyes glued to her ass until she apologized. 

“Why are you apologizing, dushi?”

He leaned forward, his arms on his thighs as he tugged on the hem of her dress. She had taken off her heels, and the first thing he had done coming in was massage her feet. As much as she poured into him he did the same to her, hoping to rekindle the parts of their relationship they had lost. Physically, they were one, that came easy. They were overly attracted to each other. 

“Well, one, for putting you out of our house like that. It’s just as much yours as it is mine.” 

Blaire turned around and let Terry pull her to stand between his legs. He leaned back in her chair, his hand rubbing up her thigh beneath her dress. 

“I wanted to call you back as soon as I did it, but I knew you were upset with me.” 

“Never you. It was the situation.We needed the space.” 

“Not for almost a year, Terry.” 

He had never raised his voice at her but it was the first time an argument got so heated he did. Neither was listening to the other and Blaire was on the verge of tears when he yelled. Her own voice was hoarse from yelling and she had been glad her mother had Noah that night. Her line of questioning had sent him over the edge. 

Are you seeing someone else? 

Who is she? 

Are you fucking her? 

The accusations hurt but now he could see why her mind went there. He wasn’t telling her anything. The calls from Summer didn’t help. Nor did it help when he’d leave to help Summer. He had let Blaire believe it was all done after Noah was born. Only for Summer to pop back up last year and his attention shifted. Blaire noticed and asked. He had been truthful. He owed his wife that much, but still wasn’t willing to talk to her about that situation. He was now, but he wasn’t sure when. 

Those months without his wife made Terry hardened to the world around him. He poured himself into work to create a nest egg for the day she let him back in the house. He didn’t want any issues with their finances while he worked to get back to what they had before his trip to Rebel Ridge. If he knew going there would change the course of his marriage he would have never gone. 

“I should be apologizing for putting you through all that. Blaire, baby,’ he pulls her to sit in his lap, ‘I can’t go back and change Noah’s birth or that experience for you. I can’t undo those feelings and it’s on me because that is my fault.” He paused. “I know you’re going to think about that for a long time and I want to spend the same amount of time trying to undo that hurt.” 

Blaire wanted an explanation of what happened, because what he had told her it couldn’t be the whole story. She could see in his eyes he was still holding information from her.  

“I don’t want Noah to feel like he’s second to someone else.” She looked down. “And I don’t want to feel like my husband is putting another woman’s needs above me. Ever.” 

Terry stood up and pulled Blaire close. His hands rested on the small of her back, just at the curve of her ass but not touching. Her hands held onto the back of his arms, the muscles flexing beneath her fingers. He had switched into a pair of light green pants and a white shirt. He had a matching green and white plaid button up over it, the color bringing out the golden tones in his eyes. 

“You’ve always been first,’ he replied, ‘everything I do is to make sure you’re good. That you don’t need anything. Or want anything. I let you down. I’m not doing that again, okay?” 

[socialfakes]

in perfect harmony -quinn hughes-

chapter 2: the animated years

nhl players x platonic abigail jackson

quinn hughes x abigail jackson

series masterlist

Liked by lhughes_06, tdemko30, _quinnhughes and 4,186 others

abbyjackson | we were obsessed with tom & jerry when we were 4 & thought we were cool here 😏 tagged: _quinnhughes

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_quinnhughes well i was cool | abbyjackson so was i | jackhughes no you were not | _quinnhughes shut up jack. you were a baby who couldn’t remember shit | lhughes_06 why is that still true 😂

jackhughes why do i actually love this costume?

trevorzegras cute abby

lhughes_06 favorite cat & mouse 🐭

elblue6 love this friendship ❤️

| abbyjackson and i love you ❤️

nicohischier this is adorable | abbyjackson you’re adorable 😊

declanpierce loving this 😊

canucks should we start calling quinn tom now? | abbyjackson yes. omg do it | _quinnhughes no don’t please

calemakar_ you are beyond adorable, love ❤️ | abbyjackson and you keep getting cuter and cuter, babe 😘

user07 wait hold up a minute. that’s my favorite cartoon

user09 are we just gonna ignore the fact that abby and cale are flirting in the comments? y’all know this is public right?

user11 holy crap. my two favorites ❤️❤️

user04 trying to process the fact that this is cale’s girlfriend

user06 hi guys. you’re cute

Liked by jackhughes, nicohischier, calemakar_ and 6,707 others

abbyjackson | there was, in fact, a snake in his boot 😏🐍 tagged: _quinnhughes

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abbyjackson but he was adorable, wasn’t he? 😊

user12 can he be my boyfriend?

lhughes_06 he was taller than you the year before this | abbyjackson yes he was but i hit my growth spurt | jackhughes yeah and then you stopped growing | lhughes_06 haven’t made it past 5 foot yet 😏 | abbyjackson you two ever been slapped by someone more than a foot shorter than you who wasn’t a child? 😑

_quinnhughes forever the cowgirl to my cowboy ❤️

user08 wowza

trevorzegras and just like that, jessie is my new favorite toy story character 😍 | abbyjackson thought that changed already when kendall jenner dressed up as jessie 😂

jackhughes nerds

declanpierce ❤️❤️ | abbyjackson 🫶🫶

user07 cuties

user11 name a cuter duo. i’ll wait

elblue6 love my babies ❤️ | abbyjackson 🥰 | _quinnhughes love you mom ❤️ | user03 quinn is the bigges mamas boy and i love it 😊 | user06 quinn is a mamas boy for sure. but can we talk about how ellen said ‘my babies’ & directly referred to someone who isn’t her kid as if she actually was. care to share? 🤨 | elblue6 nothing to share other than the fact i love her like she was my own 😊❤️

user12 i wish i had a best friend i grew up with like this | _quinnhughes she’s been attached to my hip since she was born | abbyjackson actually, you’ve been attached to mine since you were born since i’m older | _quinnhughes 2 whole days 🙄 | abbyjackson keep the attitude and i’m gonna lose my mind 😑

Liked by abbyjackson, jackhughes, nicohischier and 11,418 others

_quinnhughes | coraline jones and wybie lovat reporting for duty 😊 tagged: abbyjackson

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abbyjackson forever my wybie ❤️

jackhughes thought you hated this movie because you were scared of it 🤨 | abbyjackson well i hate one thing in this world and that’s you 😉 | jackhughes love you too, nerd 😏

lhughes_06 i love coraline

trevorzegras you two are so perfect together. and you were adorable | abbyjackson i’m still adorable 🙄

calemakar_ oh my. this is too cute | abbyjackson i say the same thing about you 😘 | _quinnhughes 😊

user12 the best friends in the world

user08 definition of true friendship

user11 need a best friend now 😔

colecaufield making up a song about coraline | abbyjackson she's a peach, she's a doll, she's a pal of mine | colecaufield she's as cute as a button | _quinnhughes yes she is indeed, cole

tdemko30 forgot she was obsessed with this movie | _quinnhughes how could you forget? she made us watch it like 300 times | abbyjackson um, excuse me quinn, but who was the one happily singing along to the music? 🧐 | _quinnhughes i hate you 🙄 | abbyjackson you wish you did 😏

matthew_tkachuk they say even the proudest spirit can be broken...with love | _quinnhughes oh no. not you too

jamie.drysdale simply the sweetest children

john.marino97 wybie and coraline, while an iconic duo, don't even hold a candle to you guys | abbyjackson remind me to give you the biggest hug the next time i'm in town

rosscolton oh my goodness. is quinn actually smiling? | abbyjackson yes he is. but we were 6 and had no worries in the world | rosscolton oh makes sense | rosscolton by the way, you look so cute here 😊 | abbyjackson ❤❤

taglist: @worldlxvlys

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved in our archive

As we’re facing the next COVID surge (brought on by holiday travel), I thought I might try a different kind of COVID post. You can skip to here for some easy to do tips and tricks you might have missed, or you can read down for my discussion of why this is important.

I have recently been writing and thinking a lot about why so many of my friends and family’s actions on COVID are so different from mine. Namely why so many people I know no longer seem very interested in either preventing themselves from being sick or, importantly, not spreading sickness to anyone else.

In my own case, the experience of staying home to stop the spread in 2020 forced me to strongly reconsider my behavior up to that point. Why had I ever thought it was OK to go to work or ride the subway with the flu, unmasked and taking no precautions, knowing that the flu certainly hospitalizes and kills people each year? Even if the flu was no big deal for my body, my behavior had limited other people—particularly disabled people—from comfortably being in public during flu season. I had knowingly spread around an illness. I radically reconsidered a lot of my behavior, and in particular, 2020 pushed me to focus more specifically on disability justice in my activism. A disability justice framework pushes us beyond thinking about individual access to consider how ableism limits us all from liberation.

Getting back to why this reconsideration didn’t happen on a mass level, understanding disability justice also means understanding that ableism is the current social order. And if it’s the order of the day, like other oppressive ideologies, that means we are all drenched in it and it is impossible to avoid ever doing something ableist. Furthermore, most people are going to act in ableist ways, most of the time. None of this are exempt from this, but not even trying is definitely worse!

I am also well aware that good COVID information is hard to come by, especially if you are not on the regular lookout for it. And if you do go looking for it, it can quickly get overwhelming. So I’d like to offer here a very short, distilled list of things people might have missed since 2020. (I’ve not taken the time to track down citations for all of these things; you’ll have to trust me that I got them from trustworthy sources or you can verify on your own. I’m happy to give more info on any of these too.)

Some of these things are easy enough to do. I’m offering this list because from a “stop the spread” mindset, each specific thing you do is helpful. This list is not meant to be comprehensive, and it’s hopefully not overwhelming. You don’t have to be perfect or avoid COVID 100% of the time or make this part of your identity, but I’d like to ask everyone reading this to take one step up in your mitigations for the holiday season, since this is reliably a time with huge increases in virus transmission. With around a thousand people still dying every week from COVID in the US, you don’t know whose life you may save by being a little more careful.

Masking This is the biggest bang for your buck, precaution-wise. If it’s hard for you to mask all the time in public, consider masking in places that disabled people really can’t avoid, like the pharmacy, the grocery store, and on public transportation.

I’d also suggest that if masks are uncomfortable, try different kinds of masks! The Aura is my favorite mask – it’s tight to my face so my glasses don’t fog and head straps don’t hurt my ears like ear straps do. Wellbefore sells masks in different sizes and colors, and Armbrust has sampler packs. Just try a bunch and see what works for you!

Finally, know that if at all possible, you should wear an N95 or KN95 mask. This is a change since spring 2020 because the current variants of COVID are more contagious.

Mouthwash Washing your mouth out with a mouthwash containing CPC (cetylpyridinium chloride) before or after seeing people, or just regularly, will kill some of the virus in your mouth and keep you below the threshold to get sick and/or shed the virus to others. This is a really easy one; CVS brand mouthwash has CPC.

Sip mask These valves will allow you to drink without breaking the seal of your mask. This is great for airplane travel, crowded conferences, or other risky spaces that you need to be in for an extended amount of time.

Airplane The most dangerous time on an airplane from a virus transmission standpoint is the time sitting on the runway (because of the way they circulate and filter the air onboard). Even if you don’t mask up during the flight, this is the best time to mask. (And if you do mask, this is the worst time to have a snack or drink – try to keep your mask on for all of this period.)

Space out risky or crowded events Don’t go to a wedding and a concert in the same weekend! Illness takes 3-5 days to develop after exposure, so give yourself time to know if you got sick from the last thing before potentially spreading that to the next thing.

Air purifiers work! This is a great one for places that you can’t avoid, like school, work, or daycare. You can make your own Corsi-Rosenthal box, but there’s also a variety of high quality air purifiers you can get for $70-100. You want to make sure it has a HEPA or Merv13+ filter on it, and check how quickly it changes out the air in a room. Since COVID is airborne, there can be COVID in a space even after the person has left it. Setting up air purifiers and/or opening windows until enough air has circulated before you remove your mask is a great way to make a space COVID safer

Test before going to events, even if you don’t feel sick Rapid tests (the kind you’re used to getting from the government and at the drug store) False negatives from these are rampant but a positive test reliably means you have COVID. The accuracy of these tests also increases a LOT if you take two of them 48 hours apart.

Better home tests are now available Metrix and Pluslife are both testers you can buy that offer a similar level of accuracy to a PCR test (that is, very accurate!). These devices are expensive, but so is another COVID infection: think of the missed work, cost of Paxlovid, and potential for Long COVID to keep you down even longer.

It’s a good idea to get an updated vaccine 2x a year too; like the flu shot, these vaccines are updated to try to fend off the particular variants that are circling. Be mindful though that vaccination will not necessarily stop transmission, especially of asymptomatic cases. Handwashing is also good for general prevention, but it doesn’t really stop COVID transmission. In the early days of COVID, researchers guessed that it was spread by physical droplets. That’s why we were instructed to wash our hands and groceries. But now we know that COVID is airborne; it spreads more like cigarette smoke than spit!

Of course, no single thing works perfectly. The best model is still the Swiss cheese model, but that also means each thing you do helps. If you’re reading this, please consider doing *one more thing* to take care of yourselves and others. I love you

[the-thieves-gambit]

" Well, hello to you too." Elizabeth chuckled as she plopped onto her bed before Dolly joined her. It was not like they bothered with greetings most times, but she couldn't help but poke. And it seemed like Dolly could either hear him, could tell by the way she spoke that it was him on the other line, whatever it was she nuzzled against her and looked up towards the phone. As she listened to him, she pet her head and gave her a look that said that she'd let her hear him in a moment once he was done talking. "Tell me where did they take you this time."

When he had left, she thought it would be a bit of freedom, no more him popping up randomly during her day. Or reaching out to bounce ideas off of during a case.

"Okay,Fox Mulder," she teased. "You're not in that department focus on your case."

On day one though, she realized how, lonely quiet, her days were without him. Charlie would check in from time to time as he usually did, but it wasn't the same. She would never admit it of course, but she liked the calls. She hated that he had seen through her lies and had Jamie deliver food when he dropped off Dolly, upset at herself, that he had seen through her stupid lie.

"Great, she's right here actually looks like she's missing you. Here," She took the phone away from her ear for a moment to take a picture of Dolly on the couch and send it his way before returning to the call. "It's been," a pause as she thought it over. "a week."

He was tired, he was babbling about time. "Yea, you know in all my travels I learned about this crazy thing called time zones. Pretty crazy." Hand absentmindedly petting Dolly began to scratch her behind the ears, as she decided to stop being so mean if only for a moment. "What haven't we done? And yeah, I found a new trail, well new to me anyway, Manoa Falls. It's really pretty. Some people thought she was mine and she had the best time on the trail. And a couple of people that came into the office thought she was some new guard dog of sorts." Smiling she looked down at her companion of these last couple of days and nuzzled down against her.

"Oh, him," her mood soured slightly. "It looks like it'll all be settled out of court with everything I provided, but he found a new target to aim his ire at." Sighing, she leaned back into a reclining position with her pillows underneath her. "But tell me about your case. Was it as bad as you thought it was going to be?"

Oh, adventure week. She had forgotten about that. Part of her had hoped he had too. "Not this again. Wildfire will hate me. And there's a first for everything, watch she'd bite my hand." Was she making excuses? Of course. Were they partly true to her fear of anything that she couldn't talk to, convince to see her way or seduce? Damn right. "Why not a pony? Ponies are nice and small, right? Or a goat? You said this was a ranch right? I could feed a goat. Or chickens!"

"Randy's still around?" That drew a laugh from her, she had seen cities change, towns become cities, and other places become living cemeteries, the fact that some things didn't change amused her. Not as much as what he said about a fax and it pertaining to her case. A raised eyebrow, she began to settle into a lying position, finding tiredness sinking through her bones. "You said that they needed you with their case, how could they possibly help me on mine from an ocean away?"

Laying on her side, she cuddled up against Dolly and placed the phone between her and the pillow. She didn't want to think about work and cases anymore. "Tell me about the haunted hallway. Are we talking full poltergeist or spectral nuisance? You never struck me as someone being scared of a little ghost. "

"You'll never guess where Mr Jeckyll took me?" Wally didn't bother with a greeting, he was just glad she had answered this call. It had been a dragged on week and it wasn't even finished yet. Though, talking to her was a welcomed distraction from the humming of the AC in his hotel room. "Oh by the way I'm pretty sure this hotel is haunted. Actually the entire hallway," his face scrunched up as he put his toothbrush back into his bag and grabbed a long sleeve off his baggage to put on. "How's Dolly? Has she been okay? How's your week been so far?" He didn't say much about the way he knew Jamie had dropped off groceries for her since he hadn't quite believed her when she spoke in a lightening manner and gave him that excuse back in her kitchen. He hadn't said anything but his brain was already working on doing something nice for her. At least he'd like to think she thought it was nice and not like he was trying to impose.

Talking about Dolly was a safer topic he thought than telling her he had missed her. Days just weren't the same without the casual eye roll or the banter she usually reserved for him. "Weirdest thing that I'm now ahead of you guys by three hours. How crazy is that? Anyway, enough about me. What have you and Dolly done so far? Anyone officially called her yours?" Liz ended his nightly check ins so her voice was the last thing he heard before he fell asleep. He covered a yawn as he climbed into bed and brought the blankets over him. Hoodie on he rolled his sleeves up and set the phone on his side and put it on speaker. He would try not to fall asleep on her but would make no promises. The week had been long but it was also a lot of desk duty and looking over files that blurred together the more he stared at them.

He smiled as he remembered the last thing she did when he walked out of her door. Having hair get tucked behind his ear was sure something he didn't expect. It felt nice and the tingle of her fingertips lingered against his skin the more he thought back to it. "You didn't really say much about it through texts but what happened to the douche cop," his head leaned on the pillow as he waited for her response. His voice was low like speaking too loudly would spook her.

As he closed his eyes he smiled against his pillow. "So, I also finalized the first day for our adventure week." Our was such an easy thing for him to say. It wasn't like he had a second thought about it. It came as naturally as breathing did. "I know you said Wildfire would be one to kick you. No, she's a baby. Super nice and just wants to be loved. She may give you a side eye if you don't feed her fast enough but other than that, harmless. But don't take my word for it. You'll see for yourself. I figured going to the ranch would be easiest and work our way down. Don't worry you don't have to get on a horse. Only if you feel like it but there's lots to see once you're there. Who knows maybe you'll surprise yourself and feel inspired to get on one. We could always share a horse. Anyway, way ahead of myself there. Mm also sent you a fax. No, ill send you a fax tomorrow. It's for that case of yours you talked about. Turns out police department here are willing to help when you bring them a box of Randy's donuts."

[petit-papillion]

What a photo!

Charles on track during the COTA race weekend | 2024 USA Grand Prix

📸 Circuit of the Americas

[thevelaryons]

ADDAM VELARYON & BENJICOT BLACKWOOD, IF ONLY WE HAD MORE TIME

Fire & Blood, George R. R. Martin // unknown // The Raven and the Mouse, Susan Pace-Koch (illustrated by Emily Stepp) // @slugspoon (Alivia Horsley) // Contradictions: Tracking Poems, Adrienne Rich // Happiness, Raymond Carver // Addam & Ben at Raventree Hall by OrionHakuryu // @wormbus-art // They Both Die at the End, Adam Silvera // The Issa Valley, Czesław Miłosz // unknown // Poem, Langston Hughes // Addam & Ben at Tumbleton by OrionHakuryu // gentle.earth by Mia // Burial at Raventree Hall by asoiafattherite // The Bad Beginning, Lemony Snicket

[skinnypaleangryperson]

Life would have been so beautiful if people in this generation had decided to actually care about each other instead of arguing on apps all day. For example, I would be alive by 40. Lol