#what do they do for fun? what do their lives look like? which is a little harder rn bc with so many characters

[theminecraftbee]

Grian sits on the edge of a desert cliff, watching the sunrise. His knuckles are bloody. He's had this dream before, and he's lived this moment before. He's awfully tired of it, honestly. He's not even particularly sad anymore. It's hard to be particularly sad, this long after, this much more between them.

But his knuckles are bloody again. There's someone sitting next to him.

"Joel?" he says, baffled.

"Yeah, hi, really weird bloody dreamscape you've got. Literally and figuratively: bloody hell. Like, Scott, he's got this pretty cottage and all these flowers and the single most terrifying version of Jimmy that I've seen in my life. Which serves him right, since he's a bastard, and I told him that. Or, uh, Pearl. She's normal. She's got dogs and... shit, I don't know--"

"Why are you here?" Grian asks.

"Oh, right, I was tasked with asking you if you regret it," Joel says.

There's a long moment of silence. The wind blows.

"I mean. No?" Grian says.

"Right? That's what I said! Blumin' stupid question, that!" Joel says.

"Wait, you mentioned--are you asking everyone that?" Grian asks.

"Yeah! It was all, oh, you've got a car, you can travel, it'll be all poetic like. You've had a 'character arc'--like I'm some, some fake guy--and grown as a person, everyone else has to, would they do things differently now? And I said, man, that's stupid. That's really stupid. But the glowing purple eyes guys--"

"Wait wait wait wait, the who?" Grian interrupts.

"Sorry, do you not know the glowing purple eyes guys? Martyn was acting like you're all buddies or something. Then I punched him. Because it was funny," Joel says.

"No, I know the--they asked you to do this?" Grian says. He takes a moment to try to imagine it. He has some trouble. Joel and the Watchers don't really belong in the same place at the same time for so many reasons that Grian doesn't know where to begin.

"Apparently, I'm not being serious enough," Joel informs Grian. "I kinda get it, actually. Like, everyone but Cleo has been somewhere like..."

Joel looks out over the cliff. It is tall, and Grian knows he cannot see the ground from the top. He had been able to during the actual games, of course, but these aren't the actual games; these are the memories of what brought him to victory, made manifest.

"So I guess I kinda wondered, since you lot always seem so blumin' sad about it," Joel finishes.

"I'm not really," Grian says.

Joel raises an eyebrow.

"I mean, maybe once, but--nah. Not really."

"Cool. That's the last one then," Joel says. "Hear that, weird glowing eyes guys? You act like I'm all weird or whatever but none of them regret it either. Not a single one of them."

Grian looks over the cliff again himself.

"None of us?" he asks, very quietly indeed.

Joel sighs. "All of you asked that too. I'm getting back in the bloody car."

Grian doesn't watch Joel leave. He rubs the blood off his knuckles and watches the sky instead. When he's tired thinking in circles about how he didn't really expect that he would be telling the truth, just then, he starts trying to imagine the trouble Joel might be giving everyone else instead. It's much more fun to think about than the sand that's getting in his socks. He's never able to get sand out of anything, these days, and it leaves him always just a little bit uncomfortable. Oh well; the price of being in a desert. He wouldn't be anywhere else if he had the choice, though, grit in his socks or not.

[nothingspecialherern]

Just a little more on this too:

Op is right-- go read the whole executive order. Look at the first damn section:

Did you see it? It's the age-old conservative call to arms-- protect the women! Poor women! Our sad, defenseless women! They use this call to invent a villain. The invented villain is, of course, trans women, noted several times as 'invading men' for this EO.

In blue is the real reason for doing it, coined better than I could have said it: "policy has a corrosive impact not just on women but on the validity of the entire American system. Basing Federal policy on truth is critical to... trust in government itself." Now our villain has an MO: they don't like the government and question the system. They're dangerous to everyone, and need to be stopped. By the way, if you are trans and have pictures of yourself protesting, consider retiring them, especially on social media. You may want to consider keeping them for yourself and print them out if you want to look back, but know that's what they're looking for. Be safe about it, please. Still, if you want to live unashamed of it, by all means do. This is complicated, and please make your own choices.

And thirdly, in red is the real impact: trans women are about to be barred from many government programs, and several women's homes or abuse shelters will now be told to refuse trans girls at the door. Later in the EO, it states that trans inmates will be moved to prisons based on sex, so incarcerated trans folks are about to have a much harsher time of it. And lastly,

Transgender discrimination is no longer protected by Title IX or Title VII. For those of us too young to be familiar, Title IX is usually what people use to defend themselves at jobs or schools. Trans folks no longer have a right against discrimination under this statute.

Now, let's calm ourselves a bit. Take a breath. We're here. We're alive. We're going to be alive tomorrow. There are trees outside and dogs to pet and hobbies to do. Take another breath. It's not okay, but we're okay right here.

Now, the Title IX thing is immediate. But compliance is not. Most 'plans' for addressing these changes have 30 days to be given. Past that, total compliance either takes 90 or 120 days-- 3 or 4 months, respectively. Which means we've got 3-4 months for lawyers to take this to court and fight it.

Luckily, Lambda Legal is on the case already! Of course, court cases take forever, and likely, these effects will happen before they win a case. But the fight is ongoing. Things will get worse before they get better, so prepare. And please, take care of yourself-- fight discrimination in whatever way you can. From the article:

So please pay attention. The knee-jerk 'make trump look stupid' is fun, but still a surface reaction. Take it seriously. Take time to let it sink in. Be safe out there.

everyone trying to own trump about the "he doesn't know sex isn't determined at conception" thing really fundamentally does not understand what the point of that was, and learned basically nothing from his first term. he is not invested in science, biology, or any rational discussion where his provably false beliefs would be subject to scrutiny. he is signaling to everyone in the country that it does not matter what you say, he will never care and he will take every action to enforce these views and embolden his followers with the same rhetoric. you cannot logically talk to a person like this when they are reasoning with emotion, not logic. you cannot dunk the transphobia away. someone post the vonnegut quote.

[spacegyaru]

it's almost 3 am in my country, but i have a fanfic idea for kaiser... i need to let it out;;

EDITED: HERE'S THE PART TWO SINCE YALL WANT IT (minors dont read pt 2 pls)

cw: michael kaiser x afab! reader | all charscters are aged 21+. pure fluff / mentions of kaiser's past experiences with his dad. nothing suggestive.

imagine michael kaiser falling in love with you, the owner's daughter of that one bakery that lived across their street. that same girl who gave him free bread everyday, and that same girl who would cry whenever he was wounded and bruised.

your family isn't the richest— but you owned the best bakery in the slums area. because of that, you were often a target of bullies. they bullied you because you have everything that most slum kids didn't have. you had loving parents, you were well-fed, and your parents have stable and honest income from the family business. you were also very pretty, so a lot of people made fun of you, thinking that you are a 'spoiled ditzy princess'.

until one day, you go out for a while to play with others. there, you met him— michael kaiser. he was all bruised and wounded. and to be honest, it looked like he was going to die... if you did not help him that day.

few minutes later, you gave him some water to drink and some sourdough bread to eat and take home. that's all your family's bakery sells after all. your mother also treated his wounds.

he introduced himself as 'michael kaiser' to you and your family. to your parents, he seemed to be a nice and a timid child. but to you, he was cold and a bit hesitant to play and to be friends with you. it was almost as if he hated you.

well, that's what you thought— until there were bunch of kids coming at you, wanting to bully you, pull your hair, and just flat-out mess with you. kaiser was the one who protected you. he told them that he won't hesitate to beat the shit out of them if they mess with you.

apparently, most slum kids are scared of kaiser, which means that you were sooo protected.

and ever since then, you would give him sourdough bread... and if your store is feeling fancy, you would give him some bread rolls that your mother made.

even if kaiser protected you a lot, he was still cold towards you. you thought that he wasn't just expressive.

the truth is, kaiser actually really really liked you. but he didn't have the confidence because he sees you as an angel, and he's just... well, he's just who he is.

fast forward when both of you grew up— well, both of you were in high school when the incident happened. by incident i mean, when he was arrested for alleged stealing.

during that time, both of you were still friends. but you rarely see him because of the 'sidelines' that kept him busy. still, you try your best to keep in touch. sometimes, you would pass by their home and give him something like sourdough bread and some bread rolls.

as time went by, you grew feelings for him. you no longer see him as the friend who protected you, but he was like a knight and shining armor. sometimes, you still wonder why he hasn't let you meet his new friends tho...

one day, kaiser got arrested for stealing. your family was deeply sad about it. they knew that his father forced him to do it— and that he's not the type to do something like that.

after that, you've never heard from him again. until a year later, you've started seeing him on billboards, commercials, and etc. it seems that he's playing for a team in germany.

despite all that happened and the separation between the both of you, you felt very happy for him. whatever success he was experiencing at this point, he deserved it. you were sad that he forgot about you, but eventually, you've come to accept that both of you live in two different worlds now.

until one day, you saw a familiar figure appearing on the bakery door. his usually grumpy expression was changed into a smug and confident one.

your eyes delighted to see who it was — it was michael kaiser, your knight and shining armor, who seem to have returned to see you again. he came back for you.

note: should i make a part two of this?lol

btw this isn't proofread so i apologize in advance!

EDITED: PART TWO YALL (minors dont read pt 2)

[briarberrythornedhart]

Haywire

Contains: Eddie Munson & Reader, fluff, sincerity, vulnerability, friends to something more

🦇 ✏️ 🦇

You were just friends. Just hanging out. And you’d thought there would be more people around tonight as human buffer BUT NO it was just you and him in his living room. And he was sitting so close it made you dizzy.

Ope.

He caught you staring. Your gaze was lovingly drifting over his stunning features and when he noticed you looking, his eyebrows shot up.

He waved his hand in a slow figure eight, wiggling his fingers - like he was casting some sort of spell on you.

Maybe he was casting a spell on you? It would explain a lot.

“You okay in there?” He laughed. He snapped the fingers of his left hand a couple times and you must have jumped because then he snorted “Sorry, sorry! You zoned out, though...like...you left me, where’d you go?” He grinned at you, head cocked to the side.

“I’d never leave. I mean I’m paying attention, What is the next step?” You asked, trying to re-focus and NOT on his lips, or his jaw, or the length of his thick pretty neck that you so wanted to kiss and lick and bite down on …oh gawd... how you wanted to taste him all over!

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Ya sure you wanna do this? Right now?? It’s okay if you are bored. This is not the fun part for most folks.”

“Yeah! NO - I’m not bored.” You clutched your notebook to your chest and regulated your breathing. No more yelling FFS you told yourself. ” I told you - I’ve wanted to play DnD for a long time and you know… never got a chance to even roll up a character. The stars just weren’t aligned for it I guess and the group near me didn’t want me in the mix....”

“Well, that’s not a problem here. There won’t be any of that bullshit on my watch. There’s Equal opportunity for doom or glory in Hellfire Club.” Eddie let the words doom and glory rumble in his chest. Theatrical as ever.

“Thank you.” You smiled and felt heat flush your cheeks.

“You’re so welcome, you always are.” he shook his mane of hair and chuckled again, wry and self-effacing. Which you would NEVER have expected from this guy. When you were introduced to him he was cocky as hell, strutting around and getting right into your personal space and teasing you like you’d been close friends forever and then - you get him alone like this- and he transforms into this sweet and modest and shy… total gentleman.

You were so completely fucked.

I mean, if only. You wished you were. But this was all so sadly gentlemanly and platonic.

He licked his lips and tapped his pencil on the DM’s guide while he pondered something seriously. Your mouth watered. And since he was so intently not paying attention to you- you took him in - looked him all over.

Your lips felt suddenly so dry and hot and his lips were the cure for every little thing that afflicted you, you knew this. That his perfect lips were the Answer. They were pink, slightly redder and chapped and plumped by his own teeth worrying at his bottom lip and… oh he was speaking to you. Focus.

“But maybe we should wait till later?? Because you seem very baked right now.” Eddie took your pencil away from you, grinning. Your pencil that had made its way (eraser first) between your lips and was getting bitten to hell. “Sweetheart, It was just a beer and we shared that joint…Did you not eat anything today??” He looked mildly concerned. “Do you want a snack or something? Coffee? I think we have Sanka in the cupboard… although what would be the point....”

You shook your head. No.

You didn’t admit it but You were not high. Or tipsy.

That was the thing. Eddie did this to you.

Yes, you’d faked taking that hit off his joint — hoping to look very chill about him offering you one. You’d barely taken a sip of the PBR he’d offered.

You Didn’t need any single thing to make you feel as high as THIS. When you had those big pretty eyes looking at you?? You were floating!

His lashes fluttered when he inhaled, held in the smoke, and then his eyes stared into your soul when he blew out (blowing away from your face - politely) and that just made you want to do unspeakably depraved things. For him. To him. On him.

“We could just… hang out.” Eddie said. “Plenty of time to make a character before next Wednesday and stuff.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. we don’t need to have an activity to be ummm together, you can just ride that wave you are on and I’ll... play guitar at you or something.” He looked down again and huffed almost a laugh. “Obviously you don’t want That, no one wants that, but we could watch a movie....”

The overhead light cast the shadow of his lashes down over his cheekbones.

“I’d like to hear you play and sing one of your songs.” You said.

“Oh no no no,” Eddie leaned backwards and put his hands behind his head, legs spread at the knees - making you long to climb into his lap “I don’t know who told you I can sing... but they were exaggerating... I can scream my lyrics in my less than an octave range.”

“But you are the frontman, you play and sing lead, right??”

“That’s only until we can get Gareth a better mic set up - he’s got a great voice - like an angel.”

“I still want to hear you.” You crossed your arms over your chest and nodded. “c’mon”

“You know what? I think I like this bossy side of you. Is this what happens when you loosen up a bit, you order people around?” Eddie smirked. “It makes me want to do whatever you say.”

“Really?” You asked, your mind reeling at the impossibilities.

“Yes.” Eddie’s tongue rolled over one canine tooth. He pointed at you. “Don’t use your power over me for evil.”

You may have gasped. Just a little.

“Or do.” Eddie scootched closer and his knee touched yours. “Just don’t get me in trouble.”

“Show me what you wear on stage.” You said. Well... demanded.

“It’s not that different than this...” He gestured down at his ripped jeans and his Anthrax T shirt under his gray hoodie. “No corpse paint, no tight leather - we’re thrash - more substance than style. Noooo, don’t look at me all disappointed...I’m just not fancy.” He rubbed his hands over his face.

“I’m not disappointed, i just really doubt you play your fancy red crackle finish guitar... in a gray sweatshirt.”

“Okay, I wear a tank top or something cropped because it’s hot as balls on stage and I pull my hair back sometimes or put my bandana on to keep the sweat from dripping in my eyes, that’s the sum total effort I put in okay? you don’t Really want to hear about me sweating my ass off, right?? Grossing you out, right?”

“No. are you gonna show me or not.”

“Yes. mistress, if you take that tone I guess I must.” Eddie slapped his thighs and stood, “Be right back.” He turned half way down the hall. “If you laugh, you gotta go. You’ll be out that door, high or not.”

He shook his head as he retreated down the hallway and then in a few minutes he emerged with his hair up in a loose bun.

He did a slow awkward turn for you. He was in a scissor cropped Megadeth shirt, with his pretty red guitar unfortunately, blocking your view of his stomach. As he turned you could ogle the curve of his back - see how his underwear - probably cotton boxers - were visible just above his jeans and belt.

“See.... not much to write home about. Functional, though. Practical.” He shrugged.

“You look hot.” you said. without thinking.

Eddie gave you an assessing look. “That’s probably the ganja talking. Or did you mean I look overheated, because yeah, it’s a little warm in the trailer but...”

For some reason this made you furious. “No. You look fucking hot, Eddie! You always look hot and I’m not fucking high. C’mere.”

His eyes went wide, he unslung his guitar and leaned it gently against a chair. “Okay... mistress.” He jumped over the coffee table and sat at the edge of the couch - leaning forward. Leaning towards you - at attention. “Any other demands?” he wasn’t being sarcastic though...

“At shows, you should crop your shirts higher, you should go commando under your jeans “ you snapped the elastic of his underwear. “…and you should not invite me over when no one else is around because apparently I go a little haywire when we are alone together.”

Eddie leaned in and kissed you. A kiss like spun sugar, ephemeral, impossibly sweet, and over too soon.

“I go a little haywire when you are near me too.” He said.

[iamsebastiansstan]

got some nerve to play hard - NAC x fem!reader

summary - "Can she… can she take all of you?” 

Nicholas’ eyes widen at her boldness before they glance down, looking at his own crotch. She follows his gaze, stupidly, but his pants are too loose, giving nothing away.

“She tries, but no. Nobody could before.”

“I bet I could,” she husks before she can stop herself, bites the inside of her cheek at her stupid mistake. Talking about someone else is one thing, but putting herself in that position could ruin their little fantasy, the little game they’re playing.

wc - 6k - MINORS DNI !

warnings - strangers to lovers, lots and lots of dirty talk, talking about Nicholas being with another woman, masturbation (m and f), coming on pussy 👀

A/N - I'm sorry, this isn't proofread, I sat down and didn't get up til it was finished. I've used this introduction in two other fandoms already but I can't help it, it's my fave lmaooo might write more parts but we'll see. come and shout at me in my DMs or messages, and let me know what you think <3 enjoy!

🖤🖤🖤 Cooper’s parties are always fun, always a blast; people dancing and drinking, enjoying themselves and letting go of their stressful day to day routines, celebrating their lives for one reckless evening. 

She loves it, whenever she gets an invite, but lately she’s been stressed out more than usual, her college workload overwhelming her and the fact that she’s here now, in Calabasas instead of at her apartment in New York, makes guilt creep up her neck, makes her think of the points on her to-do lists she could be ticking off if she pulled an all-nighter at home instead of partying her time away. Though, she’s missed Cooper a lot, and she’s glad he’s letting her stay in his guest bedroom so they can spend some time together. 

That is where she’s heading to right now, needing a breather from the crowd and the noise. Sneaking up the stairs without getting interrupted is easy, and she sighs as she opens the door, locks it for good measure. Her bag is in the corner by the closet, and she crouches down, opens it, takes out her perfume and spritzes some onto her neck to refresh her favorite scent. Letting herself plop down onto the bed, she starts massaging her right shoulder that’s been smarting a little since she got off the plane at LAX when suddenly the door of the en-suite opens, making her head snap up. 

Waltzing out comes none other than Nicholas Chavez, Cooper’s close friend and Monsters co-star, making her heart stutter in her chest. Cooper mentioned having invited him, but she hadn’t seen him downstairs yet, which she had been glad about if she’s being honest with herself. She has a tiny celebrity crush on him, but not enough for a genuine freakout. 

He stops in his tracks, then, looks at her wide-eyed. She takes in his messy hair, his rosy cheeks, a few droplets of water on his face, and smiles. 

“Hello.”

“Um, hi?” he greets, eyes darting to the door and back again. “I- I’m sorry, are you staying here? I didn’t know that- if-“

“All good,” she interrupts, sitting up straighter, smile not faltering. “Cooper has graciously let me claim this room for the weekend, and I came here to… take a breather, I guess.” 

Nicholas leans against the door, then, arms crossing over his chest. 

“I’m sorry for invading your space, then.” 

“You’re totally fine, I’m happy to share if you’d like.” 

“How very nice of you,” he says, gives her a tiny smile before stepping forward and stretching out his arm. “I’m Nicholas.” 

She takes his hand in hers, shakes it, hoping he doesn’t notice how clammy her palm is. 

“(Y/N),” she grins, “nice to meet ya.”

They stay there for a beat too long, him standing above her and her sitting, shaking hands sluggishly, before she decides to break the silence. 

“Were you okay in there?” she says and lets go of his hand, motions to the bathroom.

He drives a hand through his hair, nodding slowly. 

“Yeah… yeah, well. I had to splash some cold water on my face and just… be in silence for a bit, but I’m okay. You?” 

She scooches up the bed, leans back against the headboard and stretches her legs out in front of herself. Her back hurts a little and she was looking forward to stretching out properly for a bit, but there’s no way she’s going to sprawl across these sheets in front of him. 

“’m okay, thank you. Just overwhelmed. I can leave again, though, if you’d like. You were here first.” 

“Technically,” he starts, sauntering over to the other side of the bed, pointing at it and sitting down when she gives him a nod, “you were here first, and I can totally leave if you need me to.”

She chuckles, rolls her eyes a little, feels the three tequila shots she took before coming up here in her system.

“Sharing is caring, Nicholas, and besides, do I seem like I’d want you to leave?”

He shrugs, gives her a slow smile. “Guess not. Thanks.” 

He asks her how she knows Cooper and she tells him the story of how they met at a party and instantly hit it off, she asks him what it’s like to be working with Cooper in a professional setting, and their conversation moves from the topic of their mutual friend to various others: Nick’s career, her studies, their hobbies and so on and so forth. At one point he sneaks downstairs and comes back with four bottles clutched in his large hands: two water and two Smirnoff ice. 

“Do I look like a 17-year-old to you?” she laughs when he holds them towards her in triumph, tongue in cheek.

“C’mon, (Y/N), live a little.” 

Comfortable silence settles over them when they’ve emptied their drinks and she can’t believe just how easy he is to talk to, how much time has passed while they were having fun.

“So…” she asks, heart hammering in her chest but she swallows down her sudden nervousness, “Wanna talk about it?” 

She nods towards the bathroom and he inhales sharply once he’s understood her question.

“Not sure what you mean.”

“I mean, you clearly weren’t doing so well,” she says, smiles at him, shrugs, “I’m just saying, if you wanna talk about it, I’m here to listen. This is a judgment-free zone.” 

“I wouldn’t say that,” he frowns but the smile he’s trying to fight of betrays him, “I judged you pretty hard for your snack preferences to be honest.”

“Pickles and peanut butter are a delicious combination!” she laughs, exasperated, “Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it!” 

They stay giggling like that before he shrugs, fiddling with a loose thread of the comforter they’re sitting on. 

“I just… it’s… I think I messed up,” he sighs, leaning his head back against the headboard, exposing the column of his throat that she is decidedly not looking at.

“How so?” 

“With my… ex. Well, ex I think.” 

She nods slowly, not quite following. Of course, she knows who his ex is, her name, what she looks like, the projects she’s involved in. She seems like the sweetest girl, but not much is public about her, so her curiosity is piqued. 

“Go on…” 

He exhales then, grabs his water and downs the rest of it in one go, wiping his mouth before crossing his arms across his chest. He’s frustrated, she can tell, but he looks so damn good that she feels a tad guilty for being on the verge of distraction. 

“We broke up during a fight last week. It was so bad, and… I mean, it’s been bad, right? My schedule, the distance, she grew more and more tired of it and I- I get it, y’know? It’s not easy, being with me.” 

“I see,” she nods, turns towards him more. “I can imagine that your lifestyle can get tricky for everyone involved.”

“Yeah, I can’t expect everyone to wanna keep up, y’know? And the worst part is, when she did it- because she did it, right- I felt relieved. Like somehow, she was being set free, and I didn’t have to be the asshole to do it.” 

Her eyes narrow, not quite agreeing with his statement. She saw how hard Hollywood can be on anyone, especially someone with a “normal” partner who’s got a “normal” job, but it’s not like anyone is being forced to hold on to their unhappiness. She tells him as much.

“Well, yeah, I’m being a bit dramatic. But at the end of the day, I know it’s better for us if we are separated. I still love her so much, but… I can’t. So much has happened, and I… can’t.” He gets quiet then, stares out the window into the night, before chuckling humorlessly, “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. ‘m sorry for being such a downer.” 

“Hey, no worries at all,” she smiles warmly, reaches out to put a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezes once. “I offered, and I really am here to listen. Thank you for your trust.” 

He scoffs, not unkindly. “Yeah, you’re really easy to talk to. Thanks for that.” 

One more squeeze to his shoulder before she lets go, leans back.

“So, you feel like you fucked up by, what, letting her break it off, or…?”

Nicholas snaps out of his momentary thoughts, shakes his head.

“Oh, that wasn’t the fuck-up, no. I feel shitty because… well, because of what happened yesterday. I drove to hers to give her some stuff back,” he explains, and her stomach drops. They broke up, he drove to hers, he messed up. 

There’s only one thing that can mean, and she listens closely, waits for him to say it, but the words never come. 

Throwing caution in the wind, she dares to finish the train of thought for him.

“And you two had sex.”

Nick’s wide eyes snap to hers, a blush coloring his smooth cheeks, and she chuckles.

“C’mon, it’s okay, we’re all grown here!” 

“It was so stupid!” he exclaims, throwing his head back while she has to hold back her laughter. “Don’t make fun!”

“I’m sorry, I’m not!” she giggles, reaches out to him to get his attention. “Nicholas, that’s normal! Is it really a breakup if you don’t have breakup sex?” 

“Yes!” he laughs at her, a little manic this time, driving a hand through his tousled hair. “Fuck you mean, is it really a breakup? Having sex after is the dumbest move you could make!” 

Hiding her face in her hands, she allows herself a loud belly laugh, endlessly amused by his distress. She calms herself down, has a sip of her water.

“I disagree, sometimes it’s needed for closure.”

“Yeah, fuck that, because earlier she texted me if I could come see her again soon and that there’s things we still need to talk about. I feel like I’m back at square one.” 

“You think you’ll give in to her if she asks to give your relationship a second chance?” 

It takes a beat for him to mull it over.

“I don’t know, maybe?” 

It’s been an interesting night so far and the alcohol is still shimmying its way through her system, she’s here with her celebrity crush and having a great time, so she makes a conscious decision to be bold and see where it lands her. 

She scoots closer, turns so she’s right next to him and sits criss cross applesauce so she can lean forward and take his hands in hers. He’s looking at her questioningly but goes with her motion. 

“Nicholas, I know we don’t know each other, but I want you to tell me if you need me to be honest with you or if you want me to hype you up on getting back on your bullshit? Just say the word and I’ll do it.”

His unsure gaze darts to the side before settling on hers again, nodding dumbly.

“Tell me what you think,” he requests, and she smirks as she obliges.

“You’re being a big fucking baby and you need to get over it and tell her, once and for all, that it’s better this way. If you go there, have the conversation and then get back with her despite your gut telling you not to? That would be a fuck-up. Sex with your ex is nothing compared to what a mistake that would be.” 

The silence that settles over the room is thick, turning more uncomfortable by the second, and suddenly she feels herself sober up quickly, the realization of what she just said to this stranger, how grandiosely she stepped out of line, hitting her hard.

Apology ready on her lips, she’s just about to backtrack, when he squeezes her hands, closes his mouth in a resolute expression.

“Damn, that was… Thank you. Yeah, you’re right,” he’s muttering, and she can feel her heart in her throat, relief washing over her. “Wow, I don’t think anyone in my life would be as honest with me as you just were.” 

She smiles sheepishly, heat crawling up her neck.

“I’ll never be the friend who tells you what you want to hear, Nicholas, but I’ll always be the friend who tells you what you need to hear.”

He lets go of her, then, leans back with a calculating gaze, eyeing her up and down.

“So we friends now, you and I?” 

She shrugs. “Whaddya think?” 

He hums. “You called me a big fucking baby. Only friends get to do that.” 

He holds out his large hand and she takes it, shaking it with a smile.

“Deal.” 

She goes back to her place against the headboard and they sit in silence for a moment before she turns her head, smirks teasingly as she says, “I will say, though, you don’t look too happy for someone who’s freshly fucked.” 

His guffaw is sudden, unexpected, but it makes her laugh along, refusing to be embarrassed by her rude remark. 

“What even are you?” he asks her incredulously and she throws her head back, belly hurting from how funny he is. 

“I’m just saying! No matter who it’s with, people usually glow after, and you looked like a kicked puppy when I found you.”

He scoffs, “Found me, yeah right,” he says, but locks eyes with her and winks. 

“Yeah, well,” she muses.

“Sorry that a damper got put on my after-sex-glow and you couldn’t enjoy it, little missy!” 

“Oh, so there was a glow?” she asks, teasing him but curious, her stomach tightening. She makes sure to keep her tone light and playful but there’s nothing she wants to know more than the details of how he fucks.

She’s an open girl, sexual and talkative, and despite people in the past trying to make her feel less than for it, she lives out her personality shamelessly, unapologetically. 

His confirmation comes slow, thought-out. 

“I’d say so, yeah. There always is when it’s good, isn’t there?” 

She hums. 

“So it was good, despite everything?” 

The way he turns towards her is unhurried, deliberate, and she feels her pulse quicken, feels like she’s about to be scolded for her forwardness.

“What are you asking me there, missy?” 

Gulping down her nervousness, she answers, “Look, even though I was hoping for it, I don’t think I’ll be finding anyone to share my bed with tonight, so the least I could do is… talk about it.” 

He grins. “Someone had plans, huh? 

She shrugs nonchalantly. “I like sex.” 

“Talking about it, as well?” 

Her inhale is deep as she thinks about how to word her thoughts.

“I like knowing what others like, how they view that act of intimacy. It’s one of my favorite topics.” 

“You’re not a sellout, are you?” he questions, but the crinkles by his eyes show her he’s being humorous.

She rolls her eyes, delivering a swat to his arm.

“You’re not dumb enough to fall for shit like that, Nicholas.” 

A beat passes before she hears his voice again, “Yeah, it was good. Always is with her, to be honest.” 

“The familiarity of a long-term partner is unbeatable, isn’t it?” 

He agrees.

“How’d you have her?” 

“Fuckin’ hell, you just speak your mind, huh?” 

She’s playing with a strand of her hair, picking at the split ends, she needs a haircut. She doesn’t want to come across as eager, so she shrugs yet again, glances at him.

“If you’re uncomfortable, you don’t have to answer.”

“Nah,” he says, clicks his tongue before replying, “You can ask. I think I’m curious to see how your mind works, (Y/N).” 

Her eyebrows raise in slight surprise, but she presses on.

“Good. So?” 

The sheets rustle as he shifts, settles in so he’d be more comfortable, sprawling on the bed like it’s his own, like he owns the place. Their thighs are this close to touching and she wills herself not to focus on that too much, rather listening to what he says next. 

“I never take her one way only,” he confesses, then, causes heat to lick up her spine. “We started kissing against the back of the couch, but I lost my patience quickly, I… I just had to fuck her.” 

“So you took her from behind? Against the couch?” 

“Nah, that came later,” he narrows his eyes as if he has to remember it, “I picked her up, that’s how we started.” 

“With her legs around you?” He nods. “Just straight into it, no foreplay?” 

He smirks, turns to her. “I tend to let my hands travel during make-out sessions, if you know what I mean.” 

She exhales sharply. “Let’s say I don’t know, Nick.” 

One thick brow of his rises teasingly, eyeing her. 

“I had some fingers in her while we were kissing, (Y/N).”

“Damn, okay. How many is some?”

“You’re real fuckin’ curious, aren’t you?” 

“Fuck off, I’m only human.” 

She’s not even ashamed of her thirst for information, his words causing a movie to form in her head and she refuses to let a cliffhanger disappoint her.

“Two this time, I was impatient. Plus, I like her tight.” 

She looks away, then, turns her head away from his so she could school her expression. His face is unreadable, charming smile in place, but his eyes give nothing away. It does little to settle the fire inside of her. 

“Did you eat her out?”

“Later on, I did.”

What a mental image.

“Did she… go down on you?” 

“Not this time.”

“Can she… can she take all of you?” 

Nicholas’ eyes widen at her boldness before they glance down, looking at his own crotch. She follows his gaze, stupidly, but his pants are too loose, giving nothing away.

“She tries, but no. Nobody could before.”

“I bet I could,” she husks before she can stop herself, bites the inside of her cheek at her stupid mistake. Talking about someone else is one thing, but putting herself in that position could ruin their little fantasy, the little game they’re playing.

It feels like her heart is going to jump out of her chest when suddenly Nicholas reaches up, wraps one hand around the front of her throat, eyeing it as if he’s inspecting it closely. He drives one finger over her hammering pulse point and chuckles before pulling away entirely.

“Yeah, maybe you could. You’d choke on it, though.” 

“Cocky bastard, don’t fucking act like you don’t love that.” 

He considers it for a moment. 

“I don’t mind it. A hand in your hair, drilling into your throat, makes for some neat little sounds, I’m sure.” 

“Fuck,” she breathes, gathering herself before pressing. “Then what? You fucked her standing up and then?”

“I carried her into her bedroom, took her missionary. I love that position, it’s so underrated.”

“It really is,” she agrees, a dreamy hush sneaking into her words. “The passion of it, the romance. Fucking eye-to-eye is not for the faint hearted.” 

A laugh escapes him at that, and he looks at her, awe written all over his face. 

“Yeah, exactly. Many variations of that, as well. My personal favorite is having her legs over my shoulders, I can get real deep that way.” 

“Oh wow, that one’s good. Plus, it allows for room. I… I find it easiest to play with myself that way.” 

The admission is very personal, she knows, but she deems it unfair to let him spill his guts while she gets to keep her secrets.

“Play with your clit, you mean?” She nods, bashful. “Do you always need to?” 

“I don’t come without it,” she says, watches his brows furrow. “What?”

“Nobody’s ever made you come on his cock only?”

The way he says it, the word, the whole sentence, as if offended on her behalf, makes her pussy clench where it’s steadily leaking.

“I don’t know if I can,” she frowns, “not every woman can.”

“Every woman I fucked could, though,” he smirks, and she hides her flaming face behind her hands.

“You’re unbelievable, fuck,” she tells him, allows him his smug smirk, though. “Did she come untouched as well?” 

“Yeah, she did.”

“Did she ask permission?”

He squints his eyes. “Permission…?”

Her mind is going into overdrive, hoping to God that she isn’t scaring him off but needing to share her deepest desire with him, needing to know his in turn.

“When I get fucked,” she starts, ignores the surprise in his face, “my orgasms aren’t mine, they’re his. Right? So, I always ask permission.”

“What if he says no?”

“Then I hold it.” 

“Fuck,” he breathes and she watches, throat dry, as he reaches down to adjust himself in his pants unabashedly. “You’re a dirty girl, aren’t you?”

“Only with men I trust.”

She tears her eyes away from his crotch to look at him.

“Is there anyone like that in your life right now?” She shakes her head no. “Good.”

It takes all of the restraint she can muster up not to beg him for something, anything, right then and there, but she focuses on the story he owes her. 

“How many times did you make her come?”

He thinks about it, shrugs. “Stopped counting at three.”

“Goddamn. How did you come?”

“Inside her, while she was riding me,” he smirks, paints the picture in her head so clearly, only that it isn’t a head full of brown hair that’s thrown back in ecstasy but-

“You asked if I ate her out?”

She’s scared to speak.

“…yes?”

“That’s when I did it, after. Cleaned her up nicely.”

She brings a hand up to her mouth and covers it, mind and heart racing. 

“Did you- Nick, did you swallow your own load?”

Nicholas clicks his tongue, trails his eyes over her rapidly moving chest, locks his eyes on hers as he delivers one devastating blow, “Aw baby, don’t tell me you’re unfamiliar with getting a mouthful of come spat onto that pretty tongue.” 

Delirium grips at her then, grabs her by the throat and doesn’t let go, takes control of her limbs and makes her straddle him quickly as he sits up to welcome her, grabs her and pushes her hips down into where he’s bucking his up. Nicholas’ tongue on her neck makes her moan, hot all over. 

“I will ask you something and I want you to be honest with me,” he rasps, bites at her earlobe, “a truth for a truth, deal?”

“Yes, please-“

“When did you start thinking about you being the one taking my cock?” 

“Fuck!” she exclaims with her hands tangled in his head, pulling a little, frustrated at being found out but relieved that he’s embracing it so openly. “When you talked about throwing her legs over your shoulders.”

“Good girl,” he says, nips at her collarbone as he holds her tight, “wanna know something? I stopped talking about what I did to her when you asked about her going down on me.”

“You lied?” she shrieks, outrage as fake as her restraint.

“I won’t disrespect her by divulging too much information, plus I just wanted to see how you’d react.”

Clever fingers reach under her shirt to unclasp her bra, helping her out of her clothes so her upper body is bare. 

“And, did you like it?”

“Fuckin’ loved it.”

He buries his face between her tits, squeezing them periodically, and she’s just about to beg for his cock when he looks up at her, apology written all over his face.

“I can’t fuck you, I’m sorry,” he says, “I shouldn’t even be touching you right now. Not until I know, for sure, where I’m at in life.” 

The telltale burning behind her nose makes her want to scream, the sexual frustration overtaking her, but she reels herself in, albeit barely. Of course it hurts, being rejected like this, but she isn’t about to make things more complicated for him than they need to be. She’ll take what she can get from him, this could be her only chance.

“Fuck, that’s okay, Nick. I understand.” 

“’m sorry, (Y/N).” 

“Fuck,” she breathes before she pushes him back, eyes on him as he puts his hands behind his head, observes her as she tries to wiggle out of her jeans. “You don’t have to touch me, we can play some other way, no?”

Nicholas closes his eyes as if in pain, exhales deeply before they open again, jet-black gaze meeting hers. He nods.

“Get back here, baby,” he groans, and soon enough she’s perched on his lap again, fully naked while he’s still dressed, rubbing her center against the material of his pants. 

“I’m dying to taste you,” she confesses, so close to tears it’s embarrassing, but with him she feels no shame. 

The hands he’s got on her hips tighten as he looks up at her through his full eyelashes, something dark in his eyes.

“So am I, you’re fucking dripping for me.” 

“And you’re hard for me,” she states, needs that equilibrium. 

“All for you, (Y/N),” he breathes, bucks his hips up once more. “Dying to touch myself.” 

“When was the last time you did?” 

“This morning.”

She believes him, knows he’s done with games, and she can’t help but picture it: his broad wet back, droplets of water falling from his soaked hair, one strong arm flexing as his hand is moving up and down his cock, mouth agape but eyes shut in ecstasy. She wishes so badly to see it, to feel it.

“You’re picturing it, aren’t you?” 

She barks out a laugh, hips still rotating. 

“Aren’t I always?” 

“Imaginative little girl,” he smirks and it sounds like praise. “Wanna see how I do it? Wanna watch me fuck myself?”

The wanton moan that escapes her can’t be helped and she’s nodding her head vigorously, not trusting her voice.

“You too, though, yeah? You show me how you work that sweet little cunt, okay?”

“Yes, yes, whatever you want… Take your cock out, please, Nick,” she whines, unable to stop her hands from shaking, from driving across her body, touching herself wherever she can reach.

He does as he’s told and soon enough his pants are down to his knees, cock hard and proud in his hand, the sight making her eyes water. It’s so thick that she knows exactly what it’d feel like deep within her.

“Touch yourself slowly, give yourself two,” he instructs, and she immediately obeys, nerves shot as she shoves two fingers into her dripping pussy.

“Jerk your dick with both hands, baby, but keep it tight. Pretend like it’s my mouth on you.” 

“Spit on it, first,” he barks and she looks at him, wide eyed, sees how serious he’s being, before collecting a glob of spit on the tip of her tongue and letting it fall onto his cockhead. The way it slowly trails down before he drives his hand over it, slicks himself up so he can obey her better, makes her gut churn.

“’m so tight, so wet for you,” she cries out, riding her own fingers painstakingly slowly, wanting to do exactly as he tells her to. “And your dick is so fucking big, oh shit.”

“Glide your clit against two fingers, but keep it loose, don’t touch with the intent to come,” he tells her while his eyes are darting between her face and what she’s doing to her pussy, not wanting to miss a thing. 

“You really are adamant about me coming from my spot only, huh?” she chuckles but does as he directs her.

“One day, I’ll train you to only come from that spot, fuck,” he spits, hand speeding up as she whines at his promise.

“Shit, my clit is so swollen, if I keep going like this, I’ll cum.” 

“You can,” he says, grabs her ass cheek with one hand as he keeps working his dick with the other, “Come as many times as you’d like, as long as you can keep coming until I’m satisfied.” 

She can’t look away from how he’s touching himself, confident in his body, jerking it tightly and switching between fast and slow strokes, his full balls following the motion. The need to have her mouth on them, lap at his full sac while he makes himself feel good, knocks the wind out of her.

“Play with your balls,” she whines, always whining desperately, “I need to see what that looks like.” 

“Oh, yeah?” his hand leaves her skin as he grabs his balls, rolls them in his palm, moans at how hungrily she’s eyeing the scene before her. “They need to be drained so bad, (Y/N).”

“We’ll take care of that together, won’t we, baby?”

“Fuck yeah,” he growls, looking between her legs again. “Give yourself one more, I want you stretched.” 

She does exactly that and moans around how full she feels, knowing that if it were him inside of her, it’d be even more overwhelming. Wishing he was shirtless, completely naked, she fucks herself hard, wanting to take her other hand and drive it along his torso but not daring to stop what he ordered her to do.

“May I come for you, please?” she gasps, hips bucking wildly. She’s not above begging, not for a man like him.

“Come for me, (Y/N),” he growls, taking his hands off himself to hold her up as she convulses with how hard her orgasm hits her, it’s been a few days since she last came. “Good fuckin’ girl, that was gorgeous, fuck.” 

Nicholas’ praise gets to her, makes her flush down to her stomach and he notices, laughs wickedly as he pushes her up so she’d sit straight, takes her hand and motions for her to keep going.

“Not done with you yet, keep playing.”

“Fuck,” she winces as she touches her sensitive clit, swollen and hard and just on the right side of painful, but his wish is her command so she can’t help but do it. “Keep touching your cock, Nicholas. I wanna come to the sight of you close to my cunt.” 

“God, you make me crazy,” he growls as he does just that, his tip this short of touching her pussy as he really goes for it, hand a blur with how fast he’s moving.

She’s got three fingers back inside of her but apart from the stretch it isn’t doing much for her, she knows he’d make it feel earth-shattering, though, would show her a completely new side of herself, and with that in mind she feels herself close to the edge again, panting.

“I’m fucking close again, oh my God-“

“You’re incredible, keep going, I’m right there.”

It puts a new kind of vigor inside of her and she moves and grinds and moans just how she thinks he’ll like it, puts on a show for him and when he starts whimpering, she knows she’s got him right where she wants him.

Or so she thinks.

She lets go first, wailing as it hits her, having wanted to share that moment with him but being unable to think as the coil inside of her snaps. Falling back onto the bed she pulls her knees to her chest, drives her fingers deep and comes hard.

“Spread your legs, let me mark you, huh?” comes his voice, snapping her out of her high, and without thinking twice she spreads her legs wide and gives him a clear view of her sloppy pussy, takes her hands away so he can shuffle between them, and it only takes him a few more pumps before he’s groaning, shooting string after string of his hot semen right onto her clit, making her shout.

It overstimulates her completely: the feeling of it, the sight of it, the way he claimed her without ever having been inside her.

Nicholas wouldn’t be Nicholas, she has learned, if he didn’t push her completely over the edge, and so through his hard breathing, with his impossibly deep voice, he demands, “Make yourself come one more time for me, baby. Fuck your clit with my come all over it, lemme see it.”

She does just that, but she feels like she passes out, because next thing she knows she’s got tears streaming down her face, his head hidden in her neck and shushing her, soothing her. The throbbing between her legs is barely noticeable through the ringing in her ears, and when he tells her to match her breathing to his, it takes her a while to comprehend.

“You back with me?” he smiles gently, tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear, and she nods shakily, not trusting her voice. 

“That was… oh my God, Nicholas.”  

He laughs, a soft sound, pursing his lips.

“I don’t know what came over me. Was all of that okay?”

“More than,” she says, needing to reassure him, grabs the hand that’s on her cheek and kisses each fingertip. “I… have never felt like that. Wow. So out of my body.” 

“Me neither, I didn’t even know I could, well, do all of that.” 

They take a moment of silence to just grin at each other stupidly, gathering themselves, and she feels a ping of hurt in her stomach at the prospect of letting him leave.

“Wanna… stay with me for the night? We’ll be good, I promise, but I just can’t be alone after all of that, Nicholas. I can’t.”

The kiss he presses to her shoulder is long, contemplative.

“I can’t leave right now, I’ll be honest. I feel like you’d fall apart if I did,” he smirks, dodges the swat she so badly aims in his direction. “Nah, and I wouldn’t be well, either. That was intense.”

“So… shower and cuddles?”

“And food, I’ll have to raid Cooper’s pantry.”

The party comes to mind again, she’s already forgotten about it. The people must have already left, it’s way too quiet in comparison to what it was when she came up here.

“Sounds great. But you’ll need to help me, I think my legs are jello.” 

“Sorry not sorry,” cheeky bastard he is, but he helps her up and walks with her to the bathroom, starts the shower so it’d be hot when she gets in.

The mirror isn’t very kind to her, showing messy hair and ruined makeup, streaks of mascara running down to her neck where her tears were, but she’s got an unmistakable glow on her face, radiating satisfaction. Nicholas walks up next to her, hooks his head over her shoulder and grins. 

“Now you look happily fucked out,” she comments, laughs when he slaps her ass once, not too hard. 

“Thank you for that,” he whispers, kisses her shoulder. “I needed it.” 

“So did I.” 

Her honesty would scare her under normal circumstances, but this isn’t a normal circumstance. She steps into the shower and starts washing herself, wishing she could stay in his fluids for a little longer, rub them into her skin so she’d still know tomorrow that this night was real, but she settles for having him clean and comfortable next to her in bed. He watches her for a while before he exits the room, possibly in search of food, as he’s promised earlier.

She’ll have time for a spiral tomorrow. For now, she just looks forward to letting his breathing lull her into a deep sleep. 

[rubythecrimsonwriter]

I lived on the Gulf Coast for about twenty years. Let me tell you about six foot birds.

Now, they're not six feet tall, but the wingspan of a blue heron that is fairly common in the South averages about six feet, up to eight feet, and if you happen to be close when they take off, they're absolutely terrifying.

These days I'm 5'9" (~173cm if i mathed right). I was shorter than that during this story, but not by much. I was about 9, so I would have been about 4'9" (~143cm).

We were driving home from school. Home involved a very long bridge, upon which I remember wandering down to watch the storms come across the bayou for as long as I can remember. This bridge also happened to be a resting spot for a blue heron one day.

If you've never seen a blue heron, a blue heron is like if a cobra had a birdsona. Lithe, pretty, pointy, long. The first thing you notice about this bird is that its long and skinny. Its deceptively delicate. You're so distracted by the proportions of this bird that has the proportions of a teenage boy at the end of a growth spurt that you have failed to notice that it was almost as tall as I was at the time.

I was in a car going about twenty miles an hour. Ma had seen the bigass bird on the side of the bridge and had slowed down because both of us wanted to admire the heron.

Two things:

One, the heron was perched on the bridge railing, making us about eyelevel with its knees.

Two, the bridge railing was maaaaaybe a foot and a half (~45cm) from the passenger side of the car.

Also, birds don't tend to appreciate cars and will startle and fly away.

All this combined meant that we approached the blue heron at enough speed that by the time it decided itd had enough fun for one day, the six foot wingspan was fully extended and engulfed the entire right side of the car.

I screamed my fool head off. The car jerked from Ma flinching at me auditioning for a horror movie. She later admitted she was afraid she was going to hit the bird, too, but me screaming certainly didn't help. I swear the bird looked at me like you crazy kid. what are you screaming about?? before flying away. The car comes to a screeching halt in the middle of a thankfully empty bridge, where Ma has to later do an Austin Powers impression with a seventy two point turn to get back on track.

Nobody got hurt. But when you look up to the wingspan that blots out the sun and the beak that is meant for stabbing and eyes that hold nothing but contempt coming for you, you'll scream like a nine year old girl too.

Folks someone just made the most amazing thing I've seen in ages

the eye pinning when they're excited???? sent me

[buckdiazlafd]

.

[moralesluvr]

FABLE AND TRUTH 5 | billie eilish

୧ ‧₊˚ love was the law & religion was taught…. ↳ summary: you had always been raised on being poise, feminine, classy. but what was most important to your family was your religion— and it had embroidered itself into your daily life. but when it’s time to pick between feelings and faith, which will you choose? pairings & aus. billie eilish x fem!reader warnings. religious backgrounds & guilt | mature language | sexual content | substance use author's note. CHAP 5 IS HERE! i'm so sorry my loves i'm kind of a bot and didn't upload for 2 weeks....lol...anyways hi here it is wc. 9.1k

“what’s going on, y/n?”

you’re fighting tears as you look for words, but nothing but chopped stutters pass through your lips. you’re too stunned to speak, and you honestly can’t even comprehend what just happened. 

you had kissed billie. it was a complete mistake, but that was a comfort to no one. especially not you. 

“hello? i’m getting a little worried now.” 

your breath hitches as you stumble over your words, pressing the phone tighter to your ear as if the closeness could somehow keep you grounded. you finally spot the words out, “i messed up.”

“huh?” oliver clears his throat, “you…what? what happened? are you okay? 

you choke, your voice cracking under the weight of your panic as you sink into a bench, not far from where you started, “ollie i…i really, really messed up.”

“i’m lost. what’s going on?” he asks, his tone softening as he registers the distress in your voice. you can tell he’s a little worried too, and you didn’t mean to spread the fear to him, but it’s too late for that. 

“where are you? do you need me to come get you?”

you pause, glancing around the dimly lit street you’ve been pacing down since storming out of billie’s car. she’s gone now— she left a couple minutes ago, and part of you is upset that she just caved in on you that easily. but she probably has her own emotions to deal with, and she didn’t want to impose them on you, so she just ran. 

just like you did. 

your blood is practically hot with anger towards yourself, forwards her— any possible direction that you could aim your emotions at, you did. she knew that you were feeling confused, and you knew that you weren’t in the headspace to be making any decisions as rash as that one was. you were aching and empty inside, any sliver of sentiment you had poured itself out through your tears. 

you were so very lost. everything you stood for, and everything you were against, it all seemed like blurred lines now. you had to admit, though, you wanted to kiss her. and it didn’t feel wrong when you did it, but it really was the aftermath. 

the feeling of shame that washed over you when the kiss broke was almost unearthly. you felt like you had committed the ultimate sin, and you were sure there was no coming back from this. there was no compensation, no do-overs, just you, billie, and the thick feeling of regret hanging loosely in the air, dangling over your head. 

a little part of you wish you were still in her car, your lips smashed into hers, her hands roaming in your hair and your heart pumping out of your chest. but it was all an adrenaline rush, the fun in knowing that you’re doing something wrong, but it feels so right. but you didn’t live by what felt right, you lived by what was right.

by law, by an obligation— a duty to serve the one who put breath in your lungs, the very lungs that heaved and shook as you cried your heart out to oliver, no words being said. you were at a loss for them, there was nothing you could say or do or words to describe to convey a fourth of what you felt in the moment.  

billie was hurting, too, you were sure of it. all this time that you had spent innocently flirting, hanging out, confiding in her— it was all wasted now, and you were back to square one. she was confused, you kiss her and then you leave? what was she supposed to do with that?

but it wasn’t your fault. you couldn’t. you couldn’t allow yourself to be caught up in fleeting feelings and a stupid crush, you had bigger things to worry about, a faith to nurture and feed, friendships to grow, a degree to catch. you had a long life ahead of you, and success was at the center— and you were sure she couldn’t be a part of it.

oliver facetimes you when he doesn’t hear you answer through the phone. he needed to know you were at least alive, so when the phone connected, he returned back to his normal, calm state. he watched as you wiped your eyes and your hands shook over your open mouth, almost preparing to say something, but all that came out was broken sobs. 

“it’s okay,” he whispered, though he knew it wasn’t, but that was the best he could do. “i’m here. i’m ready when you are, take your time.” 

you sniffle harshly, your nose running as you try to take the deepest breath you can to steady yourself. you look around the parking lot— its dark now, empty, only a few cars parked at the rage room and a liquor store that’s two buildings down. 

your eyes squint at it, the blue fluorescent lights suddenly appealing to you. all you’ve ever had to drink was a glass of wine, and it was your last resort of them all, but it seemed like an idea that would keep your feelings at bay. 

so you get up, and you walk. 

you’re almost sure you’re not even conscious, because there’s no way you’d ever do this. ever. you’d never intentionally walk to any place that serves alcohol in the middle of the night, much less a store that sells it exclusively. 

but you really don’t have any other options. 

you could pray, but it seems foreign to you. it feels like God’s turned His back on you, like He’s asleep and you’re trying to jerk Him awake, but His listening is selective. it’s like you’re on the outside, like you’ve slipped out of His hands, and it killed you on the inside. 

you felt conflicted. tense, but loose internally. your mind was thinking of things you’d even begin to think of, ready to commit actions that even you weren’t all that prepared for. but you kept walking. 

it feels like forever until you finally reach the doors of the liquor store. your legs are worn, feet bruising, and the cut on your hand seems to pulse exponentially worse as time goes on. you wince, and oliver’s eyebrow raises through the phone. you honestly forgot he was on FaceTime due to his silence, but it seemed like he was just simply waiting for you to speak when you were ready. 

you shoved your phone into your pocket and approached the door, the fluorescent blue lights buzzing faintly as you pushed open the door open a small bell jingling overhead to make your presence known. the air inside is cool, tinged with the smell of alcohol and old wood. shelves of bottles line the walls, the glass catching the light in a way that makes everything feel hazy, like you’ve stepped into a foreign area.

and you had, truly. you’d never been a liquor store before, because usually, it’d never really interest you. but you were caught up, feeling things you had never felt before, and it was like you were acting before you could think. 

you hated that your curiosity was what pushed you through the door and up to the bar area, where your swollen eyes scanned different bottles that were stooped against the wall. you almost walk out, but you’re here now, so you might as well get something. 

the only alcohol you’ve ever had is a glass of wine at christmas back home when you turned 21. it was alright, but it wasn’t something you really planned on doing that often— or, to be frank, ever again. 

but it intrigued you. why was everyone else so happy and loose when they drank. forgetful, dainty, fearless? 

you wanted to feel like that too, right about now— you longed for it, you craved it. so you sucked it up, your normal way of going about things far in the back of your mind as your feet carry you to the front. a young woman stands there with a warm smile, with so many tattoos that there’s more ink than skin. she greets you, “hey there. you must be sunday school,” and then she snickers, “can i help you with anything?” 

the words hit you like a slap to the face, the nickname pulling you out of your mind fog for just a moment. your heart stumbles, your mind catching on the phrase— it’s something billie calls you all the time, usually with a teasing grin or a playful nudge. but this woman doesn’t know you— how could she possibly know that? 

but you’re so focused on getting rid of this thick, uncomfortable haze that clouds your head, so you shake it off, ignoring the knot forming in your stomach. 

“just… looking,” you mumble, glancing away as your cheeks heat with embarrassment, “um…”

the bartender snorts. “sure you are. well, take your time. let me know if you need anything.” 

it’s radio silence after that. 

you’re really conflicted, to say the least. everything about you had been so prim and proper, so sophisticated— this didn’t feel like the real you at all. or, so you thought. 

sometimes, late at night, when your only company was your own thoughts, you’d ponder about what it would be like to switch lives with someone. anyone at all— but your mind always drifted to your best friends. 

maybe you could switch with emma, your hair traded for her long, red curls that matched her fiery personality. she really didn’t have a care in the world— she was blunt, honest, kind but straight-forward. she was smart, but very flexible. she didn’t have a set schedule for anything, that wasn’t really emma’s style. and you envied that. 

deep down, she was your best friend, but you wished you could steal some of the things that she embodied and keep them as your own. you wished you could just let go and be who you really wanted to be, but that wasn’t what faith was about. that’s not what you were about. 

that came first, always. it wasn’t about what you desired, it was about unearthly things, about things that awaited you after you’d pass away. it was important to you, though sometimes, you felt like your true colors were dimmed out. diluted, watered down— but you had to keep composure. there was nothing you could do, because it was all you’d ever known, and it was all you’d ever be. 

or maybe you could be like naomi. her ability to express herself through her wild purple hair, her whimsical clothing, all her crazy piercings. she was carefree, but passionate and warm, and always had your back when you needed her to. 

and even jules. she was blunt, straight as an arrow, but her laugh was as warm as a california breeze. she was clean cut and undeniably beautiful, her long and silky black hair accenting her perfect and strong features. she was the epitome of beauty and class, yet she didn’t let anyone talk to her sideways. she stood up for what she believed in and never divvied from it. 

you shared that with her, kind of. it seemed like you had drifted away now, like you were falling and you couldn’t even catch yourself. 

“ma’am, are you going to order anything? or…”

you snap out of your thoughts and look back at the bartender, who’s impatiently tapping her nails against the hardwood countertops. you don’t know the first thing about alcohol, so you stupidly ask, “uhm…well, what’s good?” 

“depends,” she starts, leaning against the counter as her eyes darted to the back of her head to gesture towards the cases behind her, “vodka if you wanna get drunk. tastes a little like hand sanitizer, but it isn’t all that bad. it’ll be the easiest on you, i take it that you don’t do this whole drinking thing— so that’s the best start. just burns a little, but you’ll be alright.”

you hum to yourself. 

“uh… okay,” you mumble out, glancing uneasily at the rows of bottles behind her. they’re all bright labels and sharp shapes, promising you a world you’ve never stepped foot in. promising relaxation for your nerves, but all of this just seems intimidating. but you really can’t back out now— you’re here already, and you’d do just about anything to quiet your swirling mind. so you just nod, “alright.. i’ll take that, then. vodka.” you nod. 

the bartender smirks, a little too knowingly, and it makes you feel queasy.

“so, i figured you’d be a lightweight,” she mutters under her breath, pulling a clear, large bottle from the shelf and setting it on the counter, “you want it straight or mixed? might be easier on you if it’s mixed.”

“mixed, i guess?” you say, your voice unsure. you don’t even know what mixed means— you just don’t want to look like you don’t belong here. which, clearly, you don’t, but if you convince yourself enough, it’ll make you feel a little better. 

“you ever drink before?” she asks, grabbing a shaker and some other bottles, pouring them together without even looking at what she’s doing, she’s really just looking at you. 

she’s very pretty, and it doesn’t add to your nervousness, or the already disgusting feeling that you have practically glued to you. you’re trying so hard to forget about the kiss, but it’s just wreaking havoc on your brain. and all of a sudden, it’s like you were opened up to a whole new world— one that you didn’t necessarily feel all that comfortable in. but at the same time, it kept you reeled in, like you needed to figure out what all of this was. 

but you couldn’t. you had to stand firm. you had things to do, and priorities that couldn’t falter. billie could not and would not be a part of them in any circumstance. you just had to mask it all, slip this underneath the carpet and pretend it had never happened. 

“uh, sometimes,” you lie, but it sounds weak even to your own ears. you just didn’t want to seem like you didn’t belong. even though, deep down, you didn’t. 

or did you? 

the bartender gives you a look, one eyebrow raised, like she knows you’re full of shit. but she doesn’t call you out on it.

“if you say so,” she says, sliding the glass of vodka toward you, “here. start with this. it’s on the house, just for the entertainment purposes.” 

you take the glass hesitantly, the cold condensation chilling your fingers as they curl around it, your rings clanking against it, “thanks.” 

binging it to your lips, you take a swig, and your face immediately contorts sourly as you slam the glass back onto the counter. the first sip is sharp, burning, and you barely stop yourself from coughing as it slides down your throat.

the bartender watches you with a grin, “yeah, i thought so. don’t worry, kid— you’ll get used to it.”

you’re about to respond— though you don’t even know what you’d say— when movement in the corner of the room catches your eye. at first, you think it’s just another customer, roaming around somewhere, but then you see her.

billie. 

of course she’s here, by just your luck. she’s sitting at a small table near the back, a bottle of beer in one hand and her phone in the other. her head is down, her hair falling in loose waves around her face, but there’s no mistaking her. you know it’s her. you can feel it. 

your chest tightens, a mix of anger and something you can’t quite name bubbling up inside you. without thinking, you turn on your heel and march toward her, your footsteps heavy against the worn wooden floor.

“oh, hell no.” you hear her mutter as she stands up, her glass forgotten on the table. you can tell just by the way that she’s moving that she’s drunk, and for a second, you’re taken back to that night at the diner. heat is so prominent in your face that you feel like your head will blow off— and in moments, she’s in front of you, her expression a foreign mix of confusion and irritation.

“what the hell are you doing here?” billie asks you, her voice low but tense. 

you straighten up, trying to match her energy, but it’s hard when your nerves are shot, and you’re holding a drink you don’t even want. 

“none of your business,” you reply, but it comes out shakier than you intended, as always. 

“none of my—?” she cuts herself off, running a hand through her dark hair, clearly trying to keep her cool, “you don’t even drink, y/n. what the fuck are you doing in a place like this?”

“i don’t owe you an explanation,” you snap, the words coming out harsher than you expect, but it’s exactly what you wanted. it was exactly what you needed. 

she leans closer to you, though it doesn’t seem like it’s on purpose, her eyes narrowing, “you don’t, huh? after storming off and leaving me to wonder if you even were okay? you don’t think i deserve a little bit of an explanation for that shit?” 

“billie, i—” you start, but she cuts you off.

“no, you listen to me,” she says, her voice rising slightly at you, “you can’t just kiss me, run off like i’m some kind of mistake, and then show up here pretending like nothing happened.”

“billie…”

“i wish you’d stop acting like this, like you’re too scared to feel something, to be something, and just— i mean, y/n—”

“please, stop it—“ 

“really, why would you lead me on like this if you didn’t want me? why would you go out with me if—“

“billie, would you just shut the fuck up!” 

the words burst out of you before you can stop them, loud and sharp, and the entire room seems to go silent for a moment. you freeze, the weight of what you just said hitting you all at once, and your hands immediately slap over your mouth, terrified. you’ve never sworn like that before— never sworn at all, really, and now it’s hanging in the air between you and billie, heavy and suffocating.

her eyes widen in shock, and for a second, neither of you say anything. then, slowly, her lips curve into a small, incredulous smile, and it makes the anger in you only bubble worse. 

“wow,” she says softly, “didn’t know you had that in you.”

your jaw clenches as your hands drop from your mouth, your fingers curling into fists at your sides, “don’t start, billie. just don’t.”

she tilts her head, that stupid smile still tugging at the corners of her lips. it’s like she’s enjoying this, like watching you unravel is some kind of personal victory for her.

“what? i’m just saying, sunday school, you’re full of surprises tonight.”

“enough with the nicknames,” you snap, your voice shaking, but you don’t really care anymore. the dam has broken, and all the emotions you’ve been holding back are pouring out, spilling everywhere, and it’s pointless to try and keep it together when everything is seemingly falling apart, “you don’t get to call me that, billie. not after everything. gosh, i wish you would just leave me alone.” 

billie’s expression shifts, her smile dropping almost immediately. she cocks her head to the side, “after everything? what does that even mean?”

“it means you don’t know me. not really,” you say, your voice rising. at this point, the bartender and the other three people in the bar are all looking at you, but you pay them no mind. you needed to get this out.

“and the problem with you is that you think you do, but you don’t. at all. you just push me and push me, and you never stop to think about what i might be going through. you just… assume I’ll be okay with whatever you want. well i’m not. i don’t want you to know me, i don’t want you to ask if i’m okay, but god— most important of all,” you lower your head, your words slow and deliberate, “i don’t want you.” 

her brows knit together, and she steps closer, her voice dropping. she looks like she could almost cry, but that’s honestly the least of your worries right now. you were so infuriated at her, and the tears that slipped down her reddened cheeks didn’t even phase you. you had other things to worry about. 

“t-that’s not fair,” billie finally speaks, her voice cracking underneath the weight of this heated argument, and for a split second, you almost feel bad. “you don’t let anyone in. h-how am i supposed to know what you’re going through if you don’t talk to me?”

you take a deep breath, trying to contain yourself, “because it’s not your job to fix me, billie. i don’t need you to swoop in and save me all the time. maybe i just need space— have you ever thought about that? huh? have you?” 

she flinches like you’ve struck her, and for a moment, guilt twists in your stomach. but then she straightens, her jaw tightening as she meets your gaze, finally looking up from the floor.

“okay,” she says, her voice cold now, all the warmth vanishing as she shrugs gently, “if that’s what you want. i won’t speak to you ever again.” 

“good,” you snap, though the word tastes bitter in your mouth, and you almost regret it. 

was this really what you wanted? your heart was racing at the words, the reality sinking in. she wasn’t going to ever talk to you again— but that’s what you had begged her for, and now that she’s giving it to you, it’s almost like you had changed your mind. but it was too late for that. 

billie stares at you for a long moment, her expression unreadable as she shoves her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants. and then, without another word, she turns on her heel and walks away from you, leaving you standing there, idle, your anger dissipating as quickly as it came, replaced by an ache that settles deep in your chest.

you watch her go, the weight of what just happened pressing down on you like a weighted blanket. your shoulders slump, and for a moment, you think about calling after her, about saying something to fix this, but the words won’t come. your stomach feels sick and your head is hot, and you’re sure that you’re sinking into the floor as you hear the bells above the shop jingle, billie’s silhouette disappearing into the night. 

with tears brimming your eyes, you turn back to the counter, your hands trembling as you pick up your abandoned drink. the bartender glances at you, her expression a mix of curiosity and pity, but she doesn’t say anything. she just looks at you with an apologetic expression, her lips pursed as she tries to hold back from asking questions. 

you take a shaky breath and lift the glass of vodka to your lips, the burn of the alcohol doing little to dull the ache in your chest. you don’t know what you were expecting to find here tonight, but whatever it was, it feels further away than ever now.

the bartender finally speaks. “i’m so sorry, girl.” 

“it’s fine,” you mutter out, your nails scraping against your glass, your other hand busy picking at your lips. you’re engrossed in your own thoughts and the silence that consumes you, when you feel your phone vibrate. 

oliver. 

you had completely forgotten that he was on the other line, and you fish your phone out of your pocket hurriedly, your eyes being met with multiple texts and calls that you had missed from him. 

ollie: dude are you okay ??? i’m coming to get u now. 

ollie: my phone died so i didn’t hear everything but im omw. stay put. 

your chest tightens as you stare down at your phone, guilt gnawing at the edges of your already frayed nerves. you didn’t mean to worry him like that— but you can’t focus on that right now. or really, anything at all. 

all you can do is type out a quick response, your fingers trembling as they dance across the screen. you reassure him that you’re fine, and for him to do his best to get here quickly, because you were sure you were absolutely losing it. 

you look at the time, and it’s somehow already a little past midnight. your body is exhausted and your mind is racing in so many different areas, and you honestly just want to go home. 

you lock your phone and slide it back into your pocket, your hands still shaking as you cradle the empty glass in front of you. you slam it against the counter, “another.” 

“honey, i think—“

“just give me the alcohol.” you speak slowly yet sternly, and the bartender just nods, refilling your glass with straight vodka this time. you immediately drink it, the burn of it sitting heavy in your stomach, but it doesn’t do anything to warm you up, to fill the cold, hollow ache that’s settled deep in your chest.

you take another shot. and then two more, and you start to lose count. you felt trapped in your own mind, and usually, you weren’t really all that bothered by it. but after the kiss, after the blow-up in front of everyone, you were thinking and acting irrationally. you were absolutely over it— whatever consequences that were to come, you would deal with them later. but your thoughts only became louder and louder, swarming your conscience, and you would do pretty much anything to get them to disappear right about now. 

the bartender eventually refuses to serve you more shots. you’re much past tipsy now— and she can tell by the way a slow, warm grin crawls itself onto your face, and you smush your head into your hands, giggling. your skin is tingly and warm, and it’s foreign to you, but you like it. you can only think of one thing, and it’s how good you feel, and you want to wrap yourself in it and never let go. 

the bartender doesn’t push you any further about what happened, or how you’re feeling— she just nods and moves down the counter to give you space. the silence is deafening, broken only by the low hum of the bar’s music and the occasional clink of glasses. you stare down at your half-full drink, your reflection distorted in the clear liquid, and for a moment, you wonder if this is what absolute rock bottom feels like.

the sound of the bells above the door jingling pulls you out of your thoughts, and you glance up slowly, your nerves and slurred body movements not really allowing you to move much faster. your breath catches in your throat when you see him— oliver, standing in the doorway, his hair slightly disheveled, his chest heaving like he ran all the way here. his eyes scan the room quickly, landing on you, and you see the relief wash over his face as he strides toward you.

“Jesus, dude, you scared me. what the hell happened?” he asks as soon as he reaches you, his voice low but urgent.

you open your mouth to answer, but the words get stuck in your throat, and all you can do is shake your head as your eyes well up with tears again. you break in front of him, your facade faltering, and you just press your head into your palms as your body shivers with your cries. 

“oh…hey, it’s okay,” oliver says quickly, his hand reaching out to rest gently on your arm. he gives it a small, gentle squeeze, “let’s get out of here, yeah? come on. i’ll take you home.” 

you nod silently, letting him guide you off the barstool and out of the building. the night air hits you like a slap to the face, cold and sharp, and you pull your hoodie tighter around yourself as you follow oliver to his car.

the ride is quiet at first, the tension thick in the small space of his black mini cooper. oliver glances at you every now and then, his knuckles white as they grip the steering wheel, but he doesn’t say much. he’s waiting for you to speak, waiting for you to tell him what’s going on.

“i-i messed up,” you finally whisper, your voice cracking as you slump into the back seat, stretching out your limbs and resting your head against the window, “i messed up so bad, ollie.”

he doesn’t respond right away, just flicks his eyes toward you through the rear view mirror before focusing back on the road. 

“okay,” he says slowly, but you can tell he’s worried for what you’re about to tell him, “let’s start with what happened. whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. but you gotta tell me, okay? because i’m not gonna lie, you’re scaring the shit out of me.” 

you take a shaky breath, your fingers twisting in your lap as you try to find the words. your mind feels like it’s moving backwards, in slow motion, and you swear that you’re talking, but only your lips move. you rest a hand over your forehead, trying to force sound to come out, “i-i…kissed her.” 

“billie?” he asks, surprised, and you nod, your cheeks burning with shame.

“it just… it just happened,” you continue, the words spilling out of you now. people had always talked about having drunk confessions, and well, here was yours. 

“a-and then… we fought, and i s-said things— awful things, things i didn’t mean, but they just came out. and now she’s gone, and i-i don’t even know if we can fix this. i don’t know if i want to fix this.”

oliver is quiet for a moment, his brows furrowed in thought. his voice is slightly shaky now, and it’s obvious that he’s really worried about you. he peeks at you through the rear view again, “so… you kissed her— but then what? she got mad? or you got mad?” 

“both,” you say, your voice loud, though you meant to say that way quieter than you actually did, and then all the confessions come, “i was sad, r-really sad, and you guys…you guys always talk about how drinking makes you…i don’t know, n-not sad? so i took like— i can’t remember, six shots? and now i’m drunk. and me and billie got into an argument a-and i…i told her i didn’t want her. at all. i’m such an idiot.” 

oliver gasps, ready to say something, but you cut him off with your own words, “ollie…i don’t think i can do this anymore. i’m sick, i’m messed up…i-i’m not this perfect little angel that everyone thinks i am. i’m horrible and messy and…i just, i can’t anymore. really.” 

you feel oliver slam on the brakes, the car jerking slightly as he pulls over to the side of the road. the sudden stop shocks you out of your rambling, your chest heaving as you realize how out of control your words had become. your stomach felt like it was still in the other lane as you felt oliver park next to the street, and you cover your mouth, letting out an unprompted gag. 

oliver immediately unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to you, his eyes wide with concern, his hands gripping the steering wheel. 

“y/n. hey,” he says, his voice firm but still soft enough to remind you that it’s him, that you’re gonna be okay, “breathe. just breathe. it’s alright, you’re safe.”

you nod shakily, trying to pull in a deep breath, but it catches in your throat. your chest feels too tight, like there’s a rubber band around it pulling tighter and tighter with every second. you feel like you’re on the verge of snapping, so you keep quiet. your eyes slowly closing. 

“look at me,” he says, his voice steady, and you do. his eyes are locked on yours, grounding you, “you’re not horrible, okay? you’re not messy, you’re not broken, and you’re definitely not some perfect angel. you’re you, and that’s enough. it’s always been enough.”

you let out a choked laugh, shaking your head as tears spill over your cheeks. you wipe your nose, “no, but you don’t get it, ollie. you don’t know what it’s like to… to feel like you’re drowning all the time. to feel like no matter what you do, it’s never enough. for anyone. not even for me.” 

“i don’t know what that’s like?” he repeats, his voice raising slightly as he leans over the armrest, leaning further into you as your eyes hover over him, “you think i don’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re not enough? like you’re just… just barely holding it together for everyone else’s sake? because i do. believe me, i do. i just…i don’t talk about it.” 

you blink at him, startled. he rarely lets this side of himself show, the side that’s as vulnerable as you feel right now. you whisper, “w-what do you mean?” 

“i’ve had my fair share of…bad religious experiences,” he continues, his voice breaking slightly. he really never opens up to anyone, but the timing seemed appropriate, and you didn’t really mind. 

“when i came out to my parents, it took them forever to be accepting. i wasn’t welcomed in my church anymore— though i believed, and i still do. but you don’t see me running away or… or drinking myself sick. because while it feels good, it doesn’t fix anything. it just makes it worse. and seeing you like this? it kills me, okay? because you’re not supposed to go through this alone. it hurts us when you isolate yourself.” 

“but i feel so alone,” you whisper, your voice trembling as you finally sit up in the seat, your head whirring, “even when you’re here, even when billie’s here, i feel alone. like no one really gets me. not even…not even God.”

oliver’s face softens, and he reaches out to take your hand in his, his grip warm and steady as you feel his fingers intertwine with yours, “yeah, i know it feels like that. like He’s not there, like no one is. and i love you, so don’t take this the wrong way— but you’re wrong. you’ve got people who adore you, who want to help you. i want to help you. but you’ve got to let me in, okay? you’ve got to stop shutting me out. out of all of us, i think i’m the one who won’t bully you sick about this.” 

you both giggle softly, and his words sink in slowly, the weight of them pressing against your chest in a way that feels almost comforting. you nod, barely able to meet his eyes as you release your hand from his embrace, playing with your rings, “but i don’t know how.” 

“you just start,” he says simply, shrugging like it was nothing, “you tell me when you’re sad. you tell me when you feel like you’re drowning. and then, you let me help you keep your head above water. that’s what i’m here for, okay? that’s what i want to do. because you’re my best friend.” 

his sincerity is overwhelming, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel a flicker of hope. it’s small, fragile, but it’s there. 

“okay,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “okay, ollie. but i…i need you to do something for me.” 

he nods at you fervently, “yeah, anything. anything at all.” 

“i need you to help me get away from her,” you say, your voice steadier now, but still tinged with desperation, “i need you to… i need you to fake date me.”

there’s an excruciatingly long pause, this one heavier than any of the last. when oliver finally speaks, there’s a note of disbelief in his voice. he cocks his head to the side and gives you wide eyes, “hold on, you want me to what?”

“just for a little while,” you plead, your words tumbling out in a rush, “i need her to think i’ve moved on or— or that i’m not interested or something. i just need to put some space between us, and this…this is the only way i can think to do it. i just need her to leave me alone. please. while i figure things out.” 

“y/n,” he says slowly, like he’s trying to piece together the logic behind your plan, though you can tell by the look on his face that he thinks it’s stupid. “are you sure this is the best way to handle this? i mean, fake dating me? that’s… kind of extreme. and honestly, batshit crazy.” 

you shake your head at him. you’ll pretty much do anything to get away from billie right now, and this seemed like the only option. you’d much rather do this with oliver, someone you know and trust, rather than some random, icky dude in one of your classes. 

“i don’t have any other options, oliver, please. i just need you to do this for me. just for a little while. you’re the only person i can trust to help me with this.”

he sighs, and you can tell that he doesn’t think it’s a good idea, but he’ll roll with it just to help you out. he takes a good look at you, weighing your request. and finally, he speaks up, “a-all right. i’ll do it.” 

relief washes over you as you sit up even straighter, a lazy grin on your face as you nod at him.

“thank you,” you whisper, your voice thick with gratitude, “thank you so much.”

“yeah yeah, whatever.” he laughs gently, but his tone firm, “but— you’re going to have to tell me everything. the whole story. no leaving anything out. you need to at least tell me what’s going on if i’m going to be your new boyfriend.” 

you nod, “okay, yeah. um…i’ll tell you everything.”

“good,” he says, and then you start. 

well, you try to. but the car is too quiet, the only sound that’s audible is the low hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of oliver shifting in his seat. you sit there, staring out the window as cars flash by, headlights and flashing colors streaking the glass like a kaleidoscope. everything outside feels distant, unreal, like you’re a side character in your own movie. 

“you good?” oliver’s voice breaks through the silence, soft but firm. it’s not the first time he’s asked, but this time, there’s something heavier in his tone. you can tell he’s a little worried, and you really don’t want to stress him out, so you nod, though it’s everything but true. 

you shift uncomfortably, your hands twisting in your lap. you’re not good. you don’t even know what you are right now. all you know is that your chest feels tight, and the words sitting on your tongue are heavy, weighted down by years of fear and uncertainty.

“i told you what happened,” you mumble out, “why do you keep asking?”

“because i don’t think you’ve told me everything,” he says, glancing at you, “i mean, yeah, you told me about billie and the fight, but… there’s more, isn’t there? you wouldn’t be this upset if there wasn’t. so, let me hear it.” 

you swallow hard, your throat dry as you try to push the lump down. he’s right— of course, he’s right. oliver always sees through you, always knows when you’re holding back. you don’t know why you thought you could avoid this. 

“ollie,” you start, your voice trembling. you pause, unsure if you can even do this, but then his gaze flicks to you again, patient and steady, and it’s enough to nudge you forward, “i need to tell you something. something… kind of big.”

he straightens a little in his seat, his brows furrowing in concern. he’s kind of scared, because based off of the events of tonight, he has no idea what you would have in store. but he just nods, trying to keep enough cool for the two of you, “okay. i’m listening.”

your hands are shaking now, and you clasp them tightly together, trying to keep yourself steady. you take a deep breath, “okay…um…i’ve been trying to figure this out for a long time, and honestly, i’ve been scared to say it out loud. so…um…i’m—?”

he doesn’t say anything, just waits, his expression soft but focused. he’s looking at you like he���s ready to hear what’s next, and you swallow thickly, looking out the window, and then at your hands. 

“i-i’m a lesbian, oliver.”

it goes awkwardly quiet. for a moment, the only sound is your own breathing, shaky and uneven, as the weight of your confession hangs in the air. you kind of feel like you shouldn’t have said it, but it’s too late— so you just wait impatiently for him to speak. 

“oh,” oliver says finally, his voice quiet, like he’s processing. and then, a little louder, “oh. well, okay.”

you glance at him, your stomach twisting with anxiety. what the hell did he mean ‘well, okay?’ was this a bad idea? should you have kept it quiet? 

“ollie…w-what? just okay?”

“yeah,” he says, and there’s a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth now. he leans up against the arm rest to get a good look at you, “okay. i mean, what do you want me to say? ‘oh shit, i never knew!’ like, it’s not like this changes how i feel about you or anything. you’re still you, y/n.”

his words hit you like a wave, but you can’t help but offer up a hearty laugh, even though there are tears streaming down your heated face. oliver disregards your laughter, though— he’s more worried about your ever flowing tears that haven’t seemed to fade since he picked you up. 

“hey, hey,” oliver says quickly, his hands hovering awkwardly like he wants to comfort you but he doesn’t know how, “why are you crying? what’s wrong?”

“nothing’s wrong,” you manage to get out between shaky breaths, “i just… i’ve been so scared to tell anyone. i thought maybe you’d… i don’t know, look at me differently or something. i don’t even know why i thought that, considering— yeah. but…”

“girl,” he interrupts gently, laughter laced in his tone, “i really don’t care who you like. as long as they’re treating you good, that isn’t my concern at all. you’re still my best friend, and that’s never gonna change. you hear me?”

you nod, sniffling as you wipe at your face. “yeah. i hear you.”

he smiles, soft and reassuring. “good. now, is there anything else you need to get off your chest? because i’m already pulled over, so we might as well make this a full therapy session.” 

you laugh weakly, the sound broken but genuine, and shake your head, “no, that’s… that’s it for now. promise.” 

“all right,” oliver says, “so, let’s get you home, yeah? you’ve had a long night.”

you nod at him, returning to the refuge of your comfy spot in the backseat, your limbs stretched out and weary as you steady your breathing. 

as he pulls back onto the road, you lean back in your seat, the weight on your chest a little lighter now. for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel like you can breathe, like everything is setting in stone. 

୨ৎ

by the time you get home, the weight of the night feels like it’s pressing into your bones, leaving you heavy and raw. you sit up on your seat as oliver wakes you, rubbing your eyes gently, “home?”

“yeah, c’mon.” he states, grabbing your bag for you and opening your door as you step into the night. it’s cold outside, and you wrap your jacket tighter around you, facing oliver and reaching out to take your bag, “thank you for taking me home. and…for everything. you didn’t have to do that.”

“no, but i wanted to,” he gives you a warm smile, “you can always talk to me. always.”

you nod as he hands you your bag, and you sling it over your shoulder as you start to walk back to your dorm. you expect to go alone, but oliver follows, insisting on walking you to your door. and you’re too drained to argue, so you let him, your legs feeling wobbly as you climb the steps to your room, his hand hovering behind your back like a safety net.

“you sure you’re okay?” he asks again, for what feels like the tenth time, but you know that he’s being sincere. 

you pause with your key halfway to the lock, turning to look at him. his eyes are wide and concerned, and you can see the way he’s itching to say more, to fix something. you give him a tired smile, “i’ll be fine, ollie. seriously. i just need to sleep this off, for real.”

he doesn’t look convinced, but he nods anyway, “if you insist. if you need anything— like, anything at all— just call me, okay? no matter what time, you know i’ll be up.”

“okay,” you promise, though you know you probably won’t. you weren’t exactly fond of the idea of using oliver as your night-time therapist, although he swore up and down it was okay. you just nod with a lazy smile, waiting for him to bid you goodbye.

he hesitates for a moment longer before finally stepping back, “well, goodnight, y/n. i love you, if you need something, just holler. and… hey, you’re brave as hell, you know that?”

he pulls you into a gentle hug before he goes, giving you a small kiss to your forehead. it’s got no romantic context behind it— oliver had always been the type to be affectionate towards you when you were down, or vulnerable. plus, he laughs afterward, and you know it’s because of your whole ‘fake dating’ ordeal, which makes you laugh, too. 

you watch as he leaves, making sure that he gets to his car safe. and when he waves at you and speeds off, you twist the doorknob into your dorm, stepping inside.

it’s is dark when you enter, save for the faint glow of a lamp in the living room and emma’s bedroom’s light that shines underneath her closed door. sometimes, she’d forget to turn it off before she fell asleep, so you figured that’s why it was on. 

you shut the door softly behind you, your bag slipping off your shoulder and landing on the floor with a dull thud. the silence feels different— heavy, almost suffocating, but you push it aside, determined to jump into your bed and finally go to sleep. 

“so, you’re back.” a voice cuts through the quiet, sharp and pointed.

you freeze, your breath catching as you turn to see emma standing in the doorway to the kitchen. 

so she wasn’t in her bedroom. or, asleep.

her arms are crossed over her chest, her red hair pulled into a messy bun, and she’s clad in one of your victoria’s secret sweatshirts and a pair of red sleeping shorts. her expression is unreadable— somewhere between anger and concern, and you really hope it’s the second one.

“emma,” you start, your voice barely above a whisper, but she cuts you off almost immediately.

“do you have any idea how worried i was?” she snaps, stepping closer, “you didn’t answer my texts, my calls— nothing. and then— this shit is what blew me— oliver calls me, telling me you’re drunk at some bar? what the hell, y/n?”

your stomach twists with guilt, and you look down at your feet. “i’m sorry,” is all you can mumble. you’re honestly too tired and too drunk to deal with emma’s shenanigans tonight.

“sorry?” she repeats, her voice rising. her arms are flailing everywhere, her curly hair bouncing, and it’s clear that she’s more angry than you thought, “that’s all you have to say? you disappear for hours, get drunk off your ass, and pick a fight with billie— yeah, oliver told me about that part too— and all you can say is sorry?”

“i didn’t mean for it to get that bad,” you say, your voice cracking, “i just… i don’t know, okay? everything’s been so overwhelming, and i—”

“and you what?” she interrupts, her eyes narrowing, “decided to self-destruct instead of talking to me? i’m your best friend, y/n. you’re supposed to come to me when you’re struggling, not push me away.”

her words hit you like a punch to the gut, and tears spring to your eyes before you can stop them. you were sick of crying— it’s like that’s all you’ve doing recently, but you can’t stop it. 

“emma, you were the one that was being distant from me, so i just gave you space. i didn’t know how to tell you, okay?” you cry, your voice shattering, “i didn’t know how to tell you that i’m falling apart, that i feel like i’m losing myself. i didn’t know how to tell you that i kissed billie and freaked out because… because—”

you choke on the words, your chest heaving as the tears spill over. emma’s expression softens instantly, the anger draining from her face as she steps closer. when she sees you break, it’s like she can’t even be mad at you anymore, and she rushes over to you, grabbing your shoulders softly.

“hey, hey,” she says gently, “it’s okay. you don’t have to say it all right now. just… breathe, okay? i’m sorry that i was angry with you. i understand…i was just worried. but i’m here.”

you nod shakily, trying to get your breathing under control. emma guides you to the couch, sitting beside you and waiting patiently as you wipe at your face with trembling hands.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper again, your voice small.

“stop apologizing,” she says, shaking her head at you, “i’m not mad anymore. i just… i want to understand what’s going on with you.”

you hesitate, your fingers picking at the hem of your sweater. “i told oliver tonight…that i’m….”

“you are?”

you breathe in. you weren’t really expecting to tell emma this soon— you honestly didn’t mean to tell oliver either, but you were here now, and you might as well tell your own best friend this secret that was haunting you. 

“i’m…” you huff, looking down at your hands, “i’m a lesbian, em.”

emma doesn’t react right away, just tilts her head slightly as she processes your words, resting her chin into her hands as she looks at you with sweet, sparkling eyes, “okay,” she says slowly, “and… how do you feel about that? about saying it out loud? i mean— really, y/n, this is not a surprise, i think you know that.”

you laugh, “yeah. but…just thought i should let you know what’s going on with me.”

“uh huh,” she hums, a smile glued to her face, “i’m proud of you. this is a big step, honey! so tell me, how are you feeling?”

“scared,” you admit, giggling softly, “but also… relieved, in a way? like I’m finally being honest with myself. but it’s complicated. billie— she made me feel things i didn’t know how to handle, and then everything spiraled, and i just…i liked her. i’ll admit it, but— i-i can’t. i have too much to deal with, and i’m still not really all that comfortable with what i’m feeling. but it’s too late, so whatever…”

emma reaches for your hand, squeezing it tightly, “babe, you don’t have to figure everything out tonight. it’s okay to take your time. but you’re not alone in this, okay? i’m here, and so is oliver. we’ve got you. just, focus on what you need to focus on. see what happens— but don’t put too much pressure on yourself. you’re smart, and i guarantee you that you’ll figure this thing out, alright?”

emma’s words are a balm to your aching heart, and you nod, leaning into her shoulder as exhaustion starts to take over. she pulls you tighter into her side, giving you a light squeeze as you both sit there for a second, basking in comfortable silence.

“thanks, em,” you murmur, your eyes fluttering shut.

“always,” she whispers, running a hand gently over your hair, “have you told jules and naomi yet?”

you shake your head gently, still resting on emma’s shoulder, “nope. i haven’t really talked with them all that much, but it’ll come when it comes. i don’t really feel like dealing with all this at the moment. i’m just trying to make sure of my own feelings, first. y’know?”

emma takes a deep breath, nodding at your words, but she doesn’t say anything, which you appreciate. she could tell that all you needed was a little acknowledgement, and your heart smiles at that. 

after a few more minutes of talking, you find yourself in your room, slipped underneath the covers as emma laid next to you, scrolling on her phone. now that you were home, she insisted that she keep you company until you sleep, just incase you needed to talk. 

you hadn’t told her about the fake dating with oliver, but it seemed irrelevant right now, so you’d just save it for later. 

you spend your last waking moments thinking. you felt warm at first, finally getting everything out into the air, but now you felt like you were swarming with guilt. was this what God wanted? was He frowning down at you, disappointed and confused?

but you couldn’t think about that right now, or you’d start to downward spiral again. so you just squeeze your eyes shut, attempting to finally rest.

and then, just as sleep is about to fully claim you, your phone buzzes on the coffee table, the sound jarring in the stillness. emma reaches for it, frowning as she glances at the screen.

“y/n,” she says, her voice tense.

you force your eyes open, groggy and confused, “huh? what is it?”

she holds the phone out to you, and your stomach drops when you see the name flashing across the screen.

it’s billie.

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[4linos]

from roof to heart

kim seungmin x fem!reader

synopsis/request: seungmin’s thoughtful rooftop date sparks more than just a relaxing evening; it becomes a moment where both of you open up about the dreams you've been quietly cherishing.

wc: 1263

It had been a long time since you and Seungmin did something just for yourselves. Date nights had become uncommon due to his rigorous schedule and your own busy life. You'd spent endless hours together, but those lovely, simple moments that felt like the beginning of something fresh were rare and far between.

That's why, when Seungmin informed you he had a date plan, you couldn't help but get enthusiastic. It wasn't a big gesture. No luxurious dinners or costly plans. Just the two of you, spending time together just as you did when you first started dating.

You were in the middle of choosing what to wear when you heard him knocking on your door with a cheeky tone. "Are you ready yet? We need to get going!" You opened the door to find Seungmin standing there, his eyes bright with eagerness.

He was clutching a large, comfortable blanket in one hand, a snack bag in the other, and a bottle of wine. You raised your eyebrows, confused. "Where are we going, exactly?" Seungmin smiled and took a dramatic pause before saying, "We're going on the roof, silly!"

You blinked in disbelief, unable to help the laughter that bubbled up from your chest. “The roof? Really?”

Seungmin's grin widened as he moved closer, adjusting the blanket in his hands. "Yes, really. Trust me, it’s going to be fun." He helped you cross the threshold and led you down the corridor with a quiet, proud smile, obviously happy with his idea. His enthusiasm pulled you in.

As you two approached the stairs leading to the roof, you couldn't help but wonder where this idea had come from. Seungmin had always been thoughtful, but this was clearly more impulsive. "Did one of the members give you this idea?" You teased, your tone light with amusement.

Seungmin paused on the first step, his face turning slightly pink. “Well… yeah. Jisung actually.” He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “But I thought it was cute. And honestly, I thought you’d like it.”

You smiled, your heart swelling at how sweet and sincere he was, even when he was a little embarrassed. “You’re right. I do like it.”

When you reached the top of the steps and went onto the roof, the cold evening air enveloped you, and the sky had already darkened into a soft gradient of rich blues and purples. Seungmin set the blanket on the ground, and the dim light from the city skyline in the distance made the rooftop feel comfortable and personal. You could hear the faint hum of traffic below, but everything was silent and quiet up here.

You sat on the blanket as Seungmin unpacked the snack bag, which contained chips, crackers, and some of your favorite fruit nicely arranged, and opened the wine bottle. He poured a glass for each of you, and you clinked them together with a gentle "cheers."

For a few moments, you simply snacked and sipped, the weight of your busy lives fading as you relaxed into the simplicity of the evening. Seungmin leaned back on the blanket, looking up at the sky. You followed his gaze, the stars beginning to twinkle above, and the world seemed to pause for just a second.

“Do you see that constellation over there?” Seungmin asked, pointing upward. “That’s Orion’s Belt, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I think so. I always liked that one. It’s easy to spot.” You smiled to yourself. It was moments like this quiet, simple that reminded you of the reasons why you’d fallen for him in the first place.

You've been quiet for quite awhile, just enjoying each other's company, but Seungmin, as always, has a thoughtful expression on his face, his gaze fixed on the stars overhead.

After a long silence, he smiles softly at you and speaks in a dreamy tone. "I think about our future sometimes," he says, as if the words had been on his mind for some time. "Like, what our life would be like... after we're married."

You look at him, a smile pulling at your lips, but you aren't sure where this is headed. Seungmin is the sort that keeps his thoughts hidden, so hearing him begin to disclose them like this feels unusual and personal. You nudge him playfully, causing him to look at you. "What, you've been planning our future without me?" you joke, arching your eyebrow.

He chuckles gently as his hand lightly brushes against yours. "Not quite. "Just... imagining." His voice is calm yet warm. "I can see us living in a small house somewhere, not too huge, but enough for us and a kid or two. Maybe we might have a son first. I can teach him baseball, you know? Playing catch with him in the backyard just the three of us, having fun, laughing."

You grin, leaning into him, amused by his detailed vision. "So, you’ve already planned on having a son who’s going to play baseball with you, huh?" you ask, teasing him, enjoying the image of him as a dad. "What if we have a girl instead?"

His smile widens, his eyes softening as he gazes at you. "If we have a girl, then I’d spoil her rotten," he says, his voice playful yet sincere. "She'd be my little princess. I’d treat her like one, take her to the park, buy her everything she wants." He pauses for a moment, glancing at you, his expression turning a little more serious. "But it doesn’t have to be a boy or a girl. It’d just be about having a family with you."

You’re touched by his words, but decide to keep the playful mood going. "So, what if we don’t have kids at all?" you ask, glancing at him with a mischievous smile. "Are we just going to live in that house and sit around, waiting for your baseball games and princess moments?"

He laughs, a little embarrassed but still so endearing. "Well, then I’d want a dog," he says, his eyes lighting up at the thought. "A dog to play fetch with. We’d take it to the park together, and I’d be the one to teach it tricks while you laugh at how bad I am at it. I’d be the dog’s favorite, obviously."

You laugh at his certainty, shaking your head in amusement. "You really have thought all this through, huh?" you ask, giving him a playful shove. "What made you think of all this, anyway?"

Seungmin looks at you, his gaze steady and sincere, as if this is something he’s been quietly dreaming about for a while. "I think about it often," he admits softly. "I just can’t imagine not having you in my life. I want our future, whatever that looks like, to be full of love, laughter, and little moments like this. Just us, being happy together."

Your heart swells at his words, and his vulnerability and sincerity bring you even closer to him. You softly grip his hand, laying your head on his shoulder, the noises of the city receding into the background as you allow his vision of the future wash over you.

"Well," you say quietly, your voice warm with affection, "I like that future. And if it’s with you, I know it’s going to be perfect, no matter what it looks like."

He smiles, his arm wrapping around you as you both sit there in comfortable silence, the stars above bearing witness to your shared dreams, your hearts already intertwined in a future that feels as bright as the night sky.

//

masterlist.

[wemlygust]

I hadn't heard about this, so I looked up the trailer expecting it to be awful and

This... looks fun actually? Toothless looks like Toothless. Still expressive and everything. It doesn't look like a Lion King situation in that sense. This trailer, to me, makes it look like they've changed the tone to a more serious one, but like the heart and emotion at the core of it may still be there. And the actor they picked for Hiccup seems like a good fit (I don't know hardly any actors though so idk who this is). It looks like How to Train Your Dragon: Gritty Lord-of-the-Ring's-ish Dramatic Fantasy Edition. Seems like a good time to me. Like the movie equivalent of an alternate universe fanfiction. I still won't see it in theaters. I'd still prefer more original films over this. I'd still prefer animated versions of live action originals, over yet another CGI/live action version of an existing animated movie that's perfectly good as it is. I'd prefer a new adaptation (animated or live) of the How to Train Your Dragon book (which I hear is VERY different than the movie) over this - that option was literally right there. They could've still tied it to the How to Train Your Dragon animated films in the marketing. It'd mean paying scriptwriters to adapt the book to film in a new way, but like. Scriptwriters are not even close to the most expensive part of filmmaking. They could have made it animated again and saved a bucketload of money. But still... as "live action" adaptations go, I'm actually interested in this one. I'm looking forward to it now. CGI, also, isn't even "live action", not really. I hate that this has somehow become the universal term for it. CGI is also animation, just really realistic and expensive animation. It has artistic value and also has a heck of a lot of potential beyond the ways it is most often used. There are so many cool things that could be done with it that get left on the table in favor of only "let's make this as realistic-looking and/or dark and gritty and scary as possible and put it next to human actors". It's been artificially limited from what it could be by corporate culture and decision-making (as have been many other things). Anyway, since Toothless - at least in the trailer, though granted that may not be representative - looks properly expressive in the usual animated fashion, this doesn't give me that "why are people treating animation as inferior" feeling as much as other such adaptations do. It does give me a bit of the "why do people treat realistic aesthetics as automatically better" feeling, but they're definitely doing this just because they (probably rightfully) expect they can make a lot of money for the investment required. And it looks fun so I can give that a pass, maybe. If it does well enough, it could hypothetically fund more originals that are bigger risks, the way mega-popular books have traditionally funded the risks publishers take on newer, riskier authors and books. But of course this is assuming the execs don't just pocket everything and then look for the next easy cash grab instead. (I've read that model in book publishing has been dwindling lately, too, but I've not looked into it much.) I am a bit concerned by the fact the 2nd trailer is almost identical to the first, though, because that leaves the possibility that they showcased the only good-looking bit and left out the rest. :P I do think there's a chance it'll actually be good though.

GUESS WHO EDITED SMTH AGAINNN

My thoughts of httyd live action as a whole

[imblueeforyuu]

yandere frontman x male player reader

a/n i wrote this when i was high as shit and had to spend to much time editing it i want to kms

Your hole in the wall corner store was going bankrupt, you were millions in debt and your life was falling apart. This store has been in your family tree since forever, it was your family's pride and joy. And you were ruining it,  Of course you were. the one thing you had to live for was being taken from you. You were ashamed and embarrassed. Why did you have to be the one to ruin your family business? You felt hopeless, there was no way you could continue to live like this, i mean it wouldn’t be selfish to kill your self, right? You have no family to take on the debt you created, so it’s fine. Maybe it was best to take the cowards way out. Someone stopped you though, on your way back home a strange business man stopped you and offered to pay you if you played a simple game of Ddakji, you couldn’t turn that down, no way. In the end you managed to make half a million won, which was not nearly enough but you were out of options. The strange man gave you a card and went on his way. 

With nothing better to do with your already broken life you decided to join this game. You didn’t expect to win, god no, you just wanted to try something so you could say you really did attempt to make some money, and you didn’t just give up. 

You woke up with a quick breath, you look around quietly, you notice a 002 on your uniform. Interesting, were you the second person to join this game? Whose the first, they had to be more desperate than you to join so fast. You had a personal mission now, to find this number 1 guy.. You crawled out of your bed to start your search. Everyone was either waking up or still asleep. This would be your perfect opportunity to find this guy, or girl. You looked around for a good while and found nothing. It wasn't until the masked guards took you to the first game you gave up. You don’t know why you're so interested in this man you're sure it’s just some boring fat old man. you were so incredibly focused on finding this guy you didn’t realize people were dying around you. Well you did but it really didn’t matter to you. On the walk back you noticed something, your number 001! And two guards leading him to the line of players, why was he with them? Maybe he got separated but you doubt it. You are definitely going to keep an eye on him now. 

“Hey your number one,” you stated, you really weren’t good with interactions. your dad always used to tell you that your awkwardness was what was going to run the store to the grave, and it really did. 

“Oh, yes I am,” he said looking into your eyes. You stare back looking at every detail of his face. He was older but definitely still attractive. He didn't look like he belonged, he had the look of someone more well off. You glare slightly before continuing walking. You felt his stare bore into the back of your head.

Next was voting, you pressed O, you did want to continue the game. Why would you want to stop here, it was fun, and easy. It was just kid's games. It had been awhile since you were a kid  but you're sure you still had it in you. You went back to your bed and sat observing, there was a group of people surrounding the person claiming they’ve played this before, You can’t blame them who wouldn't be intrigued? you also noticed a purple hair guy and his little minion pick a fight with some other guy. Boring, what wasn’t boring was the reaction of a certain number one. He was really interesting, first he supposedly worked with the guards and now you've learned he's really good at combat. Maybe he was secretly a guard, or some type of spy, you needed to gather more information on him. You look around the room and notice player 456, the crazy one. Maybe he knew something. 

Your chat with him was unsuccessful, player 001 came back, the very person you wanted to gossip about. Maybe you didn’t want to talk about him exactly, still if he was someone important and noticed you trying to get more information you're pretty sure he’ll have you killed. Unintentionally you’ve found yourself part of 456s group. You tried to slip away when 001 came back but you were too slow. Fuck now you were stuck interacting with this creep. 

The time the second game happened you’re so done with these people. Player 001 whose name you've learned to be Young-il especially, he made you feel nervous, it’s probably all in your head that he’s a spy or something. You’ve done this before; get it in your head someone’s out to get you when they're really innocent. But there's definitely something off about this guy. 

6 legs was pretty much boring, you split away from  gi-huns group as soon as the opportunity came. You don’t dislike the group by any means but they were loud, you've always been so introverted.  Maybe you were just jealous, you probably were.

“002,” 388 came up to your bed with the rest of the group following behind . You peel your eyes open, god you're not ready to talk to them.

“Yes?”

“Where did you go?”

“I lost you guys,”

You probably shouldn’t make them hate you especially because they were your ticket to a good amount of money, even though they were against the games they were smart. And strong. Perfect for victory. They started talking about voting and you could care less. you wanted to keep these games going. 

Mingle was annoying, you were the last pick of the group. When it finally was time for two players, young-li grabbed your Hand. You expected him to pick gi-gun who was practically his boyfriend, but no he picked you. When you got to the room you didn’t expect someone to already be there. You were at a loss. Maybe it would be best if you just walked out. But young-il can never not shock you? He grabbed that poor man and snapped his neck. You were shocked but that proves your suspicion, this man was not who he seemed. 

It was Time for gi-huns master plan. To fight back, you didn’t have the heart to tell this delusional old man there was no way he would win but you did have a use for this. Finally proving that number one was evil. You were going to wait and see him betray them, but You decide to join the raid and follow in the back. When it was time to go to the front office you joined young-il and the group that went with him. You said you were going to stay with 456 and 390 but secretly followed behind him and his group. You saw everything, him shooting the people with him, him pretending he died and his smirk at the camera. You smile. perfect.

“Got you.” You raised your gun to face him. He didn’t seem to take you seriously, he smiled softly before moving closer. You glare.

“Back up,” you yell, you clutch the trigger. 

You shouldn’t have let your guard down so quickly, you saw him reach to put his gun down. Seeing him submit you released your grip on the trigger just a little bit. He must have seen you relax, because Out of nowhere he grabbed his gun again and shot your leg. You fall over unable to hold yourself up. You saw young-il move closer towards you until he was standing right by your head. He crouched down before smiling even wider. You look into his eyes, you were expecting anger not pure bliss in your bloody weak body. Your world went black.

When you woke up you noticed you were on an uncomfortable leather couch. Your head was propped up on a pillow. Your eyes were still somewhat blurry. You reach to rub the blurriness out but you notice your hands were tied. You try not to panic just yet but that fails miserably. You look around desperately and wiggle around, unintentionally knocking something off a table, ouch now your leg hurts. You freeze for a moment, damn it now your kidnapper knew you were awake. The elevator door dings causing you to flinch, fuck time was running out. Quickly you rush to hide somewhere. Unfortunately your feet and hands were tied so there was not much you could do. Of course besides rolling. You quickly roll under the couch which fortunately was tall enough for you to fit under but damn, rolling off the couch must have reopened your gunshot wound , you almost scream in pain. You heard the clicking of dress shoes come closer, they stop for a moment before continuing. They stop right at the front of the couch before the owner of the pair of expensive shoes starts to talk

“You know your feet are showing,” young-il, if that even was his name, said. You kept quiet even though you knew it wouldn’t help at all. 

“You can come out,” he paused before continuing. “I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to talk.”  

Talk my ass. There is no way he just wanted to talk, if so why would he kidnap you? Yes, maybe you held a gun to him but still. You crawl out from under the couch, Or well wiggle out. When you finally managed to get out you saw young-il he was drinking a glass of whiskey. You were still on the floor wiggling around trying to free yourself from the rope. Young-il stood up and crouched by you. 

“What happened to all your confidence? You were so sure of yourself with that toy gun of yours,” he smirked and started to pat your head. You flinch and scrunch your face. 

“Fuck you,” you glare.

“Sh [name],” your eyes widened, you don’t remember telling him your name. But if he was the mastermind behind this you guess he would know your name after all. It still did disturb you. He disturbed you. The way he smiled, the way he crouched, and how he patted your head. There was something off about him, I mean of course there was. You felt helpless, he had tied you up and was treating you like a child. You spit at him, what else could you do? You were helpless, ok? That seemed to make him mad, good. He stood up abruptly and stared down at you. He kicked you swiftly. the middle of your back hit the leg of the couch. You winced and curled up into a ball. 

“What the fuck do you want from me,” you glare at the floor. You were still in the ball and your voice was low. You're not sure he could hear you. 

“Hm, you.” you heard the leather of the couch crinkle as he sat. What did he mean by you? Why Did he want you? You were just a failing business owner, you were about to end it when you were invited to these games. Maybe he liked that stuff? You hugged your legs closer, being careful of your wound. Why the fuck did you have to be so interested in him? 

[most-datable-datable-bracket]

MOST DATABLE DATABLE CHARACTER 2 THIRD PLACE

Claude propaganda:

"To say Claude has trust issues is an understatement—you have to spend half the game earning his. (Claude isn't even his real name!) Once you have it, though, he's absolutely ride or die for you until the stars go out. He is so full of heart and ambition: He wants both sides of his heritage to get along, he wants to open borders and eliminate xenophobia and promote equality between commonfolk, and deep down, I think he craves a partner to stand with him at that new dawn, or an equal who sees his vision for the future and will fight for it just as hard. Nobody believed in him when he was a kid, but if you put your faith in him, he'll return it tenfold. Some people don't like that he's calculating, or has to leave the player character at the end of the game to go back to his homeland, but both are necessary elements for his goals to change things. He will always come back, and everyone who bets against him and his love for his companions is wrong with a big fat W. #KhalidForMostDatablePrez"

"Claude is a fun little onion of facades. He calls himself the embodiment of distrust, he acts like he's carefree and without worries, an unscrupulous schemer--and so many in universe buy into that hook line and sinker. He's used to others viewing him with suspicion and uses it as armor to obscure his not-so-dark truth: that he cares immensely, that he values minimizing the loss of life, and that above all he has so much hope that people will fundamentally choose to do better given the choice.

His front guards a center that his conflict filled world would be happy to tear apart. As the child of people from two nations in constant conflict--one of which is explicitly isolationist and dehumanizes those outside its church's reach--he hasn't really had a place where he can be without his facade. As a child he thought he could run, but when confronted with the fact that this hatred existed no matter where he ran, he chose to instead try to create a more just and kind world.

His inability to let others in beyond his facade at first may lead to a sense of distance, but isn't it then all the more satisfying when you're allowed in? All he wants is a little trust, a little faith, and--like what he wants to give everyone--a chance to be better.

And like that you got a charming young lad with a fun personality that your grandma would be thrilled to have stay forever."

Elliott propaganda:

“Just look at him. Pure hunk energy.”

“I will punch anyone who dislikes him. He’s like a fire emblem character in the modern day. He’s so flamboyant and handsome, he can play the piano and he’s best friends with the old fishing man!”

“dramatic writer man with sexy hair”

"Since I like elliott. I will state some reasons why I like him

Imagine if Mr. Darcy didn’t insult your family first time you met him, that’s Elliott. The man who’s basically the hallmark romance love interest. He’s a writer who moves to the small town in the country side to find inspiration for his writing. Then he finds the farmer.

He has a crab living in his pocket

He can play the piano (hopefully it isn’t the river flows in you however)

His fans sometimes hc him as a merman and that’s just a major plus IMO

He genre of the book he writes is dependent on what genre you say you like.

He also sends letters to you if you marry him

Okay and also some things I dislike

His liked gifts, the easiest one is pomegranates, which cost like 6000g to grow a tree if you don’t pick the fruit cave. I AM NOT GETTING SQUID INK IN YEAR ONE FOR YOU.

he might be British /j

The fact he has no kitchen but still likes food like lobster, like he is just a mystery. Lives in a cabin, with no kitchen, no washroom (okay no character has a washroom), but still likes the most fancy food out there and has luscious hair worthy of a L’Oréal ad.

Gifting him on rainy days when you don’t have two hearts"

[osohchoso]

Blood and Chains

Chapter Nine- Healing Hands, Hungry Hearts

beautiful art by @aransmind !!!

Choso x F!reader

Previous | Chapter Index | Chapter 10 coming soon!

Content: fluff and smut, comfort, girls' night, bath time, multiple POV, drinking, oral (f! receiving) MDNI!!

The first week of healing you spent trapped inside the walls of Choso’s apartment. He wouldn’t let you out of his sight the entire time, unable to stop thinking about your frail mortality. It was as if he thought you might keel over and die the second you were out of view. The only ounce of privacy you received was when you needed a bathroom break, which he would wait impatiently right outside the door until you were finished. 

You understood what Yuji meant about Choso being a helicopter parent now. 

Though it wasn’t always suffocating in his home. Over the past week you started forming a bond with Yuji. The two of you teaming up to torment Choso, poking fun at his age of 150 by calling him ‘old man’. He hates it, you know he does, but the love for his two favorite people becoming friends grounds him. 

Living with Choso came with its perks too. Three meals a day prepared by your new favorite chef. Options ranging from french toast to sushi. Whatever your heart desired he would make that day. He made sure you were comfortable during your recovery, fetching you anything you needed and providing as many cuddles as you could handle. Then at night, Yuji would join the two of you in a round of games or watching a movie. It felt like being part of a family with them, you felt like this was where you belonged.

After a week, Choso finally allowed you to return home. You appeared to be fully healed, the wounded flesh quickly evolving into a scar that looked like it had existed for years. It was inhuman how quickly it had healed, thanks to the help of Dr. Ieiri’s cursed technique as Choso had explained. Still, there were lingering pricks of pain that would radiate from the wound and shoot through your entire body. Sometimes brought on by a sudden movement and sometimes for no reason at all. 

It was more of an inconvenience than anything, the pain always seeming to announce its presence when either you or Choso tried to make a move on the other. Both of you were desperate to finish what was started that night, but each sting of discomfort caused him to blame himself. It was getting to the point where he was afraid to even touch you, acting as if some invisible wall separated you from him.

It was worse than torture. At this point, you were willing to risk the pain if it would also lead you to satisfy the aching need for him.

You were finally home and attempting to fall back into your usual schedule. As much as Choso loved taking care of you, you needed to regain some semblance of independence. However, with classes out until autumn and the time off from work you were given, there wasn’t much to do other than housework. Something Choso wouldn’t let you do when you stayed at his apartment. He wouldn’t even let you lift a finger, taking care of all the dishes and laundry while you sat on his couch and watched, it honestly made you feel useless. 

You just finished dusting every corner of your home, the place looked spotless. Tonight, you planned to gather with your friends, Emi and Suki. You had told them you were in the hospital due to a stabbing on the street, a truth and a lie all at the same time. They freaked out, of course, if only they knew about the creature that caused said ‘stabbing’. 

You assured them you were ok, that it was a minor injury. Another lie. Yet they still wanted to come see you, and you agreed. It has been a while since you have made time to see them. Tonight would be a girls night just like how you used to do it. 

There were still a couple hours until the time they agreed to come over, you started mentally calculating when to throw the snacks in the oven. The front door swings wide open, startling you. They never arrive early, if anything they are always late. 

But it wasn't them.

In walks Choso, looking beyond exhausted. Ever since you went back to your own place, he has been coming to check on you every night. More for his own sanity if anything. He even started sharing small details about his day with you, what curses he encountered and bragging about how quick he was to dispatch them. Nothing was a secret anymore, opening a whole world of trust between both of you. 

But you have never seen him quite like this. He walked further into the room, eyelids droopy and focused on the floor ahead of him. Hair fallen out from his pigtails and plastered to his sweaty face. You take a step forward, worried he might collapse from fatigue any second now.

He wasn't supposed to be here tonight. You told him that your friends were coming over so he didn’t need to come by. He agreed even, thought it would be good for you to see them after so long.

“Cho? What are you doing here?” He lifts his head when you ask, eyes dull. He looks almost lifeless. Whatever he had just been through clearly left him drained. His lips turn down in a small frown. 

“Sorry, I forgot.” He turns his head slightly and you notice smears of crimson clinging to his cheek and trickling down his neck. The uniform on his body caked in dirt and more blood. 

“Are you hurt!” You rush forward until you stand directly in front of him. All he can manage is a shake of the head no. You reach for his chin, tilting his face in every angle to examine him. “What about all this blood?”

“It’s not mine,” he closes his eyes, dark purple circles a testament to his lack of energy. “I can heal myself, remember? It's going to take a lot more than that to take me down.” He lets out a low chuckle. 

“I had a long day, there were a lot of them. I’m just tired.” He explains with a drawn-out sigh. Choso mentioned that creatures like the one who attacked you, transfigured humans, were popping up in droves around the city. Each day there were more than the last. Keeping him and all the other sorcerers busy, day and night.

You couldn’t possibly send him away in his current state, not when he looks about to pass out. Plus, there is still time to kill before your friends arrive, maybe you should repay your boyfriend’s care with some of your own.

“Come on, let's get you cleaned up.” You grab his hand and lead him toward the bathroom. Once inside, you walk over toward the bathtub and turn on the faucet. A hand under the stream until it reaches the perfect temperature, hot but not scalding. You allow the water to fill up until the tub is full.

“Clothes off.” You hold your hands out, waiting for him to shed his soiled uniform. 

“Okay bossy,” he chuckles as he removes each item and places it within your outstretched arms. This is the first time you have seen him fully naked, and you waste no time inspecting every muscle with an appreciative gaze. Every line on his chiseled stomach, every scar that marks his skin. Following the trail of dark hairs until it leads you to the thick length between his thighs. 

You knew he was big, you had seen the outline of it through his clothes many times. But you never would have believed he was that big. Now you understand why he has been so adamant on waiting until you were fully recovered, that thing would destroy you. Yet the thought only makes you want him more.

You have to force yourself to tear your eyes away from your shameless staring. Though it seems he hadn’t noticed, his eyes half shut as he walks over to the bath and lowers himself to the water. He immediately grabs a washcloth and begins wiping the blood from his face.

“Be right back,” you tell him before exiting the bathroom and walking to the closet that hid your washing machine. You try to focus all your energy on scrubbing out the stains in his clothing, needing something to get your mind off the heat pooling in your core. He was clearly drained of all his stamina, now wasn’t the time for these thoughts. 

You pad into the bathroom once again, steam filling the air and casting a fog over the mirror. You set his fresh change of clothes on the bathroom vanity, something comfortable to help hide away the stress of his day. Choso is leaning back, head lolled to the side and eyes closed. He looked so peaceful while he was relaxing…or maybe he's just asleep? 

You were about to exit, giving him his privacy while you continued getting ready for your friends to arrive, but his voice stopped you. You were surprised he even knew you were there.

“Mmm…come to join?” He hums in question.

“Do you want me to join?” 

“Mhm.” He slowly nods his head, hair wet and smelling of your expensive conditioner you keep begging him not to use. 

“Sure, but only because I don’t want you to fall asleep and drown,” you tease as you strip from your own clothes, he’s so out of it he doesn't even sneak a glance at your naked body. You lower yourself into the tub between his opened legs, leaning your back against his hard chest. The water ripples as his arms move to wrap around your waist, holding you against him in a strong hug. He rests his chin on your shoulder, wet strands of his hair sticking to your own skin. 

“I don’t need a lifeguard,” his throat rumbles in low laughter “But having you close always makes me feel better.”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

He held you tight the whole time. Soft snores brushing past your ear as the weight of his head continued to rest against yours. He was completely oblivious to the fact that the once soothing bath water was now cold as an iceberg. You hated to disturb his much-needed rest, but you were not so immune to the temperature change. The chill seeping into your bones. 

“I’m going to go lay down, have fun with your friends.” He kisses the top of your head, walking away toward your bedroom now wearing the sweatpants and white cotton shirt you fetched for him. 

“Goodnight,” you call after him. You can guarantee he was out again the second he hit the pillow. The poor guy has been overworking himself lately, not once stopping to recharge. Yuji explained that he has always acted this way, that sometimes Choso forgets to take care of his human body and acts invincible. Taking every mission thrown his way until he inevitably hits his limit.

It has been worse lately. With the influx of transfigured humans after your own encounter, he has been working nonstop. He never understands when to quit, when it’s time to stop and recuperate. It’s beginning to take a toll on his body, and it worries you. All it takes is one simple mistake, one minor miscalculation, to bring his downfall. He may act bulletproof, but in reality, he’s not.

“Hey! We are here!” Your friends call in unison from the other side of the door. 

You rush forward and yank the door open, the two girls immediately pull you into a group hug.

“I missed you both so much! It’s been too long!” You hug them back even tighter, then drag them inside your space. “Come on, we need to catch up.” 

The first two hours breeze by. Catching up on all the failed dates Emi has been out on and how the wine shop Suki opened has been successful. You fill them in on your recent art projects and celebrate the grades you received on your finals. Briefly mentioning the ‘stabbing’, fabricating a fake story about the whole encounter that they luckily bought.

You leave the details out about Choso too. Even though you two are starting to nurture a more open and trusting relationship, you haven’t had a chance to ask if he would care if you shared the details with them yet. With you now knowing the true nature of his world, you didn’t want to bring unnecessary danger to your friends. If meeting Choso would risk putting them in harm’s way, you would happily hide him away for as long as needed. 

“Another glass?” Suki picks up the half finished riesling bottle. You stare down at your cup, taking the last sip of the sweet liquid and pushing it forward.

“Sure, why not,” you let out a loud laugh. “But just one more.” She pours the three of you a second serving, finishing off the second bottle of the night. You say that now, but you know they will talk you into opening at least one more before the night ends. 

“We should play a game next!” Emi suggests.

“That's a great idea, Em. I bought a new one I have been dying to play.” You ordered a game online a while back with girls' night in mind, it was a drinking game where the focus was on how well you knew your friends or partner. If you guess wrong, you drink. You take another sip before standing from your seat at the dining room table. 

Their eyes widen, looking past you toward the direction of your room. Slowly turning around, you see what has caught their attention. Choso stumbles down the hall, his now dried hair sticking in every direction. One of his hands pinches the inner corner of his eyes in an attempt to draw the sleep away.

“Can you guys keep it down?” He yawns when he stands in front of the group. Your friends appear just as shocked as you are right now. What possessed him to come out? 

It was a standoff. No one dared to make a move. Their eyes flickering between you and Choso while he stands there unperturbed, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

Choso blinks a few times, adjusting to the bright overhead lights in your kitchen. His eyes finally meet yours, an unreadable expression in his amber gaze that doesn’t reach the features on his face. Panic maybe?

“Um…who the hell is this man in your house?” Suki shouts at you, pointing a finger in the direction of Choso as he stretches his arms above his head. She always has been the overprotective friend, never believing anyone was good enough for you. You can only imagine the interrogation she is about to give both of you.

It’s time for you to come clean.

“Um…guys…I want you to meet Choso,” you swallow hard, seeing the confusion lining their faces. “He’s my boyfriend. Choso, meet my best friends, Suki and Emi.”

“Boyfriend!?” They shout in unison, tone dripping in disbelief. “How long has this been a thing?” Emi squeals as she waves a hand between the two of you.

“A little over a month now,” Choso is the first to respond, speaking matter-of-factly. They stare at him as if he was an alien speaking in some unknown tongue, trying to decode his words like a secret message. 

“He’s telling the truth,” you confirm.

“And you didn’t tell us!?” Emi’s shrill wail assaults your ears, a pout on her face. You have always been honest with them, and you just dropped a big bomb. Of course they would feel a bit hurt at your secrecy. “Why didn’t you tell us?” She probes further.

“I wanted to wait until I knew we were serious before introducing you to him,” you lie again. Choso turns and scowls at you like he too believes your deceit, a look that says ‘were we not always serious?’ You blink twice, trying to send him a message to play along.

“And how did you meet?” Suki presses for more information. 

Oh shit. You can't come out and say that you were being chased by a cursed spirit the day you first met him, at the time you didn't even know that bit of information. You were completely unprepared for this whole conversation. If you had thought ahead of time then you would have had a believable story all planned out, but Choso decided to make things hard for you tonight. Your brain working overtime trying to work quickly to fabricate another lie.

“He’s a security guard,” you say the first thing that comes to your head. “He helped me escape the attack in Shibuya when I was supposed to meet you two for dinner. We have kinda been seeing each other ever since.” You turn and give Choso a soft smile, it wasn’t a complete lie at least, just some of the details changed to something their minds will understand. Suki says your name, turning your attention back to her.

“Why don’t we get that game, then we can test how much Choso here actually knows his girlfriend.”

“Great idea!” you agree, giving Choso a kiss on the cheek before walking off to your bedroom.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　Choso's POV　 . ✦　　 . ★⋆.

Choso watches as you disappear into your room, leaving him alone with the two girls who he can't even remember the names of. He stares at the doorway you vanished into, shifting back and forth on his feet awkwardly, praying for your speedy return.

He hadn’t exactly meant to present himself to your friends like this, it was a complete accident. Your joyous laughter ripped him away from the most peaceful dream he has had in days. His mind still foggy as he rose from the bed, unable to comprehend where he was and what could possibly be making you laugh so hard. He assumed Yuji told you another one of his stupid jokes that only you and him understand. 

But when the world came back into focus, after he revealed his presence, he realized where he actually was. Two unfamiliar girls staring at him like he's a ghost sitting at your kitchen table. Your table in your apartment, not his own where he thought he was napping. 

He can’t believe his mistake, mentally scolding himself for the situation he just put you both in, with no way for him to escape. Now, he is basically forcing this sudden information onto your two friends. He was thankful for your quick thinking, smoothing the situation over effortlessly. But that was short lived as you were sent scurrying off to retrieve some game. Leaving him in a den full of lionesses.

“Sit,” one of them commands, waving an arm toward a chair in front of her. Choso says nothing, moving forward and quickly taking a seat. She narrows her eyes at him, studying him up and down.

“We don’t have much time until she gets back,” the girl with narrowed eyes speaks in a low tone, Suki he believes was her name. “We need to make sure you are worthy of our favorite girl.” The other friend nods in agreement. Choso can already feel the beads of sweat forming on his brow. 

“What are your intentions with her?” Her question surprises him. “Why should we let you continue dating her?” 

“Let me? I don't really think that’s your decision, it’s hers.” He responds a bit defensive.

“Sure, but that’s our best friend. She doesn't need to end up hurt by another guy again, I just want to make sure you are what’s best for her.” Choso sits there in silence as he tries to put his emotions into coherent words.

“I care about her, more than I have ever cared about anyone before. She is special to me. I’ve never met anyone like her and I only want what's best. To keep her safe and shower her in affection.” He pauses for a moment. “When I am with her, I feel like I'm home. She makes me feel wanted. She makes me glad to be alive. I lo–” he cuts himself off, his face turning bright red as he realizes what he was about to say. 

The look on your friend’s face softens when she hears him slip up, already able to fill in the blanks to finish that sentence.

It’s not that it isn’t true, but he hasn’t spoken those words out loud yet. It just came tumbling out before he could stop himself.

“Good. Then make sure she knows. Make her feel loved everyday of her life, never let her second guess it.” Distant footsteps can be heard as you make your way back toward the group, game in hand. “And if you ever hurt her, I will hunt you down and double the pain back onto you.” Suki hisses quietly, and she means it. 

“Yes ma'am,” he whispers, swallowing hard. She happens to strike more fear in his heart than most curses do.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　Your POV　 . ✦　　 . ★⋆.

Choso crashing girls' night ended up more fun than you would have expected, you didn’t think he would click with your friends so well. The normally reserved man transformed to match their energy. Indulging in all the drama of their lives and listening to them tell story after story while enjoying a glass of wine.

The two of you won that game of course. Both of your competitive spirits come out to play with the mission of destroying Suki and Emi. They never stood a chance. When the whole premise of the game was ‘how well do you know your partner’, of course you and Choso would be the obvious winners. He knows everything there is to know about you, and vice versa.

But the whole time, you couldn’t help but notice the way he was looking at you. It was almost like his eyes were sparkling each time he viewed your face. A sweet expression with his skin flushed, making your heart skip a beat. You wonder if something was on his mind, or if the alcohol was getting to his head.  

After the game was finished, you and Choso the undefeated champions, the night started to wind down into something more relaxing. He was such a good sport too. Letting you and your friends paint his nails black and apply facemasks to his skin, his bangs pinned back with purple barrettes. Giving him the full experience of what a night with your friends is like.

He even let you sneak a quick picture, his hair still in clips and his skin glowing. He just looked so cute; how could you resist? A tiny pout on his face like he thinks you will tease him after, or worse, send it to his brother. But all you really want is to make it his new contact picture, that way you can remember this memory each time he calls.

His eyes started to droop, and only one-word responses came from his mouth. He seems to be hitting the limit of both his energy and social battery. 

“Why don’t you go lay down? We won't be up much longer anyways.” You lean over and whisper in his ear. He nods in response.

“Thanks,” he breathes out, placing a light kiss on your forehead before standing up from the table. He turns back to your friends. “It was nice to meet you both, I hope to see you again soon, goodnight.” He yawns and makes his way toward your bedroom. 

“Goodnight,” they call after him. “He’s got the right idea, it’s getting late so we should probably head out too.” Emi responds. They were right, you didn’t even realize the time with how much fun you were having. The two girls float around your apartment, quickly gathering their things.

“It was so great to see you guys, let's do this again soon.” You bring both of your friends in for a hug, but you can't stop yourself from asking one last question. It's been nagging you this whole night, and you don't think you can sleep without an answer. “So…what did you think of Choso?”

“Hot,” it was only a half second after you asked, Emi saying the first thing on her mind. You smack her arm playfully. “What? You know I am right, you're so lucky!”

“Besides that…do you guys like him, ya know, as my boyfriend?” There is silence after you speak. You never even thought about the possibility of what would happen if your friends didn’t like him. You can’t imagine life without him after everything you've been through, would this ruin your friendship with them? Emi will always be supportive, but your other overprotective friend is a whole other story.

She doesn’t speak, leaning against the door with her arms crossed as she analyzes her thoughts. Each dragged out second of silence feeling like a lifetime.

“We like him,” she finally responds, letting you release the air from your lungs in a long sigh. “I can see how much he cares for you, and how much you like him in return. There seems to be good chemistry between both of you. So as long as he is treating you right, that’s all that matters. And I’m happy you found someone like him.” She punctuates her sentence with a small smile.

“Thank you!” You immediately pull her in for another hug, her approval meaning the world to you.

They say another round of goodbyes before finally leaving your home. You lock the door behind them and head to the bedroom to join Choso. You spot the rise and fall of his chest as he lays beneath the covers, already fast asleep. You move quietly around the room and go through your nightly routine, taking care not to make too much noise and disturb his slumber. Once changed, you slip under the covers next to his sleeping body.

Or so you thought.

The instant you lay down, he rolled onto his side to face you, one large forearm wrapped around your waist and pulling your back flush against his bare chest. His lips leave lazy wet kisses on the back of your neck. Hips grinding against your ass, alerting you to his hardened cock underneath his boxers. He works his way up to your ear, nipping at it gently before he speaks.

“You took too long,” he whispers, his hot breath sparking goosebumps along your skin. 

“It was maybe 10 minutes, Cho.” You let out a low laugh, pushing yourself further into his touch.

“Exactly, 10 minutes without you is far too long,” he presses another kiss to your neck, his lips curving into a smile against your skin. He slowly drags his strong hand over the fabric of your shirt, feeling how the cloth clings to your body. Once at the edge, he slips under and trails his fingertips up to your breast. Pinching and rolling your nipple between two fingers while leaving sloppy kisses along your neck.  Each little touch ignites the fire of need, heat coursing through and pooling straight to your core.

“Please don’t get me worked up for nothing,” you groan, clenching your thighs together, but he doesn't relent. In fact, he pushes his conquest further. His fingers lightly trailing down in a slow and tortuous path until they slip under the band of your shorts, pausing before he fully reaches your core, causing your whole body to stiffen against him. 

“Choso…you know we can't yet,” you sigh, sounding more like a whine. Even though you aren’t in any pain right now, giving you a false hope that you are healed, you have a feeling the second things heat up it will ruin the mood once again. It’s like your personal curse. His index finger traces along the edge of your underwear while his teeth gently nip your shoulder.

In the next second, he has you rolled onto your back, his body hovering above yours with two muscled arms caging you beneath him. He takes a moment to admire you sprawled out underneath him, looking like you belong there, belong to him. Hungry eyes roam over your form, appreciating your beauty in silence before speaking again.

“You trust me, right?” He asks, gaze locked on your own eyes.

“With my life.” 

“Then…can I try something? Can I try to make you feel good?” He pauses as he brings one of his hands up to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking across the skin. “Just for you.” 

“You don’t have to, we can wait,” you try to assure him. It doesn’t feel fair for you to be the only one on the receiving end. All he has been doing lately is taking care of you, all without ever expecting anything in return. Yet he shakes his head no.

“Let me do this for you, please.” His eyes blaze with determination. “I know what I want, it’s you. I want to do this.” 

Your small nod is the only confirmation he needs to continue.

His hands grip the hem of your shirt and pulls it over your head, tossing it to the floor below. He lowers himself, his chest pressing against you as his lips make contact with yours Tongue slipping its way into your mouth, tasting you in a ravenous kiss. Soft moans escape him and into your throat, which you swallow like the sweetest nectar. 

He pulls away from your lips and begins to make a descent of kisses down your body. Lips brushing over your cheek and down your neck until he reaches the valley between your breasts. Thumb rubbing rough circles across one nipple while his mouth finds and attacks the other, tongue swirling around. His eyes meet yours as he switches sides, making sure to give them both equal attention. 

“F-fuck,” you gasp out as his teeth lightly scraped over the hardened bud, your head falling back against the pillow. He sucks hard then releases with a wet plop. 

“You're so perfect,” he whispers, quiet enough that you barely catch it, before he makes his way back down your body. Continuing his path lower and lower, kissing and nipping at the skin of your stomach until he stops at the scar. He freezes for a moment, looking up at you with his eyebrows pinched and guilt in his eyes. He will never stop blaming himself for what happened. 

His thumb brushes softly over the skin, unreadable thoughts rampaging through his mind. A storm of emotions brewing inside. 

“I’m so sorry, you never should have gotten hurt because of me.” He presses his lips to the warm flesh, pouring out an apology in the form of kisses. “Never again, no one will touch you ever again. I will never let anyone hurt you so long as I live.” His lips dance across the healed injury, sending tiny shivers along your skin. 

You were about to respond, attempt to extinguish his worry, but he's already moved on. Sliding off the foot of the bed and kneeling before you, hands at your hips as he pulls you toward the edge, close to his face.

“Can I take these off?” he grunts as his hands frantically reach for the waistband of your shorts.

"Please," you quickly reply, not caring if you sounded a little too egar.

“Just let me know if anything hurts, and I’ll stop right away.” He adds before his fingertips hook the waistband of the shorts, along with the panties you had on underneath, pulling them off your legs in one fluid motion. Staring face to face with your cunt for the first time, you almost feel embarrassed. Like he's examining you under a microscope. 

“My pretty girl,” he breathes out, his fingers digging into your thighs as he spreads your legs apart for him. Lips leaving behind a wet trail as he nips and sucks up your inner thigh, getting closer and closer to where you need him. “All mine,” his breath tickles your core. 

He swings both of your legs over his shoulders, sliding his hands along the skin of your legs until he meets your hips, gripping you firmly to keep you in place. He lowers his face, licking a slow stripe along your entrance.

“Oh fuck, Choso...” you moan out, eyes snapping shut. You can’t see his face but you just know he has that cocky smirk plastered across it due to the fact he’s the reason you're reacting this way. 

He plunges his tongue inside, confident strokes as he tastes you fully. The tip of his nose nudging at your clit with each lick. Mouth latched to your pussy as he worships you like he’s been wanting to. You can’t believe this is happening right now, after wanting this for so long, it feels like a dream, and you never want to wake up. Your hips move on their own, attempting to grind against his face but he digs his fingers into your hips, keeping you from moving.

“Do you need more, baby?” He lifts his head up to ask, his lips wet and glistening in the low light of your bedroom. “All you have to do is ask.” 

“More,” you let out a strangled gasp, your head dizzy from the pleasure being ripped away abruptly. 

“You can ask nicer than that,” he sinks his teeth into your soft inner thigh, then immediately soothing his tongue over the bite. 

“Please Choso, please give me more. I need more.” 

“That’s my good girl,” he immediately goes back down, this time focusing his attention to your clit. His tongue draws hearts on it while he slips two fingers inside, pumping at a rapid pace. It was all so much, your body tensing as he drives you closer and closer to the edge. Your fists balling the sheets in your hands and your loud moans echoing off the walls, only fueling his desire. 

He can’t stop the way his own hips grind against the bed, imagining it was his cock thrusting inside you right now instead of his fingers. He wraps his lips against the swollen bud of your clit and sucks, a low moan reverberating through your body from his mouth. 

“You close, baby?” He hums when he pulls back to catch his breath, immediately diving back in after spitting his question out.

“Mhm, so close,” your thighs squeeze around his head, and you snap. Entire body trembling as the waves of your orgasm crash over you. The whole time Choso doesn’t stop, continuing to fuck you with his fingers and lick up every ounce of your release until your moans die out, leaving you exhausted and panting on the bed.

He places a few messy kisses on your cunt before looking up from between your legs, a thick string of his saliva mixed with your slick connecting him to your core. Hearts practically shining in his eyes as he gazes at you. 

He can’t stop himself from saying it right now, the high from your taste still clouding his mind. The words falling from his mouth without a second thought.

“I love you.”

Taglist: @lavenderdaydream97 @angel04-01 @seizecherry @raedollsstuff @brutuswolfo @deathrye -if I forgot anyone or if you want to be added please let me know!! :)

A/N: sorry, this took me longer than I wanted, ADHD brain kept finding other things to do oopsie. Also, I'm employed again (BOOO! everyone booo!) so updates may take longer but that won't stop me completely!! I love writing my fics and am so excited for all the things I have planned. love you all MWAH!!

[grapejuice32]

3some. i will elaborate no further. you know what i want.

Next Time

Rafe x reader x JJ

notes: I'm so sorry about the wait on this one! I had a lot of fun with this one, lmk if you'd like more Rafe x reader x JJ!

Hot open mouthed kissed were being trailed along your neck, your head was thrown back against his shoulder, exposing more of your skin to him, ready for him to mark. Warm, calloused hands, ran up and down your calves, the cool metal of the rings on his fingers a stark contrast to your warm skin. You sighed in pleasure, your eyes falling shut as Rafe bit lightly into the skin of where your neck and collarbone met, whining in discontent as pulled his lips off of your skin, "uh uh, need y'to keep your eyes on JJ, sweetheart."

You exhaled, doing as he said, but struggling to stop your eyes fluttering shut again as his lips made contact with your jaw, "You feelin' good mama?" JJ's voice drawled from where he was kneeled between your legs, to which you only nodded, a snap breath living your lips as your eyes met his, his hands travelling up your thighs. "Mm, what was that? Couldn't hear you baby."

Rafe's hands slipped under the t-shirt your were wearing as you responded to JJ, "feels good, J."

His lips quirked up as he leant down to press light kiss to your inner thighs, "That's what I thought." Your breath hitched as he trailed kisses up your inner thigh, his lips ghosting over your underwear, Rafe pulled your shirt up so that it bunched up over your chest your bra now exposed.

"Stop teasing," you huffed in frustration, your hands making their way to JJ's head to try and push him down to where you needed him. Only resulting in Rafe tutting in disapproval, his hands leaving your bare torso to take your hands in his.

"Hey now, none'f that," his breath was hot next to your ear, a jolt of pleasure sent through you as he nipped your earlobe, "jus' tryn'a make our girl feel good after such a long day, ain't that right J?"

"Yeah, 's right." He nodded, kissing the skin of your lower stomach, just above the waistband of your panties, you pushed your hips up, desperate for stimulation go some kind, but your reaction got you the opposite, instead JJ gripped your hips in his large hands, pinning you to the bed to stop you from moving around.

"So ungrateful," Rafe's voice sounded, "maybe y'shouldn't be gettin' anythin' after all," he mumbled, but his words were loud enough that JJ heard, instantly pulling off of you, knowing that Rafe's words were less of a suggestion and more of a command.

"No, please," you breathed out in slight panic, "I'll be good, I promise, just, please."

"Nah, beggin's not gon' get you anywhere, 's too late," Are began to slide out from behind you, JJ still kneeling on the bed between your legs but no longer touching you, now leaning back and sitting on his feet, "think J an' I're gonna go off an' have our own fun without you."

You slumped in defeat, "no, please, jus-"

"Fine, y'know what? Get your ass over there," Rafe ordered, pointing over to the seat in the corner of the room, "y'can stay an' watch."

He then pulled his attention off of you, and walked around the bed to where JJ sat on the end, he took JJ's face in his hands, leaning down and kissing him roughly, the moan that left JJ's mouth, though muffled by Rafe's, left you biting your lip, squirming in your seat as you watched the two of them.

JJ reached up, grabbing Rafe's biceps and pulling him in closer to himself. It wasn't long before Rafe had pushed JJ down on the bed, one of his hands leaving JJ's jaw to grip the end of JJ's shirt, their lips momentarily separating as Rafe pulled JJ's shirt over his head, leaving his upper body bare. You gripped the armrests of the chair, breathing heavily as you watched JJ's hands slide down to Rafe's lower back. You let go of the armrests, sliding your hands to your panties, only to be halted by Rafe, who somehow had noticed what you were doing even though you were sure he hadn't been looking, "Don't you dare fuckin' touch yourself," he spoke, still not looking at you or even in your direction, "you hear me?" You nodded, a disappointed look on your face as you returned your hands to grip the armrests, "What was that?" he asked, his lips now pressing to JJ's neck and nipping at the skin there.

"I understand," you mumbled, growing frustrated as the only fraction you could provide for yourself as you watched was from the clenching of your thighs, a frown on your face as you watched Rafe get JJ off with his hand, the both of them completely ignoring you, Rafe ignoring you to teach you a lesson and JJ ignoring you because he was too consumed in Rafe's touch.

It was only when a loud moan had left JJ's lips upon him finishing that Rafe looked over to you, the sexual frustration clear on your face, "Aw, 's wrong? Y'feelin' left out, sweetheart?"

You nodded, a pitiful look on your face. Rafe moved to lay next to JJ who was trying to catch his breath a light sheen of sweat visible on his bare chest. "C'mere," Rafe beckoned, reaching a hand out to you, you were instantly on your feet, and moving over to the bed, holding onto Rafe's outstretched hand.

When you thought you were finally going to get the stimulation you needed, Rafe pulled you down to lay beside him, his hand letting go of yours to slip under your body and hold your waist, pulling you close to him. You sent a look of confusion his way at his actions, a mock pitiful chuckle leaving him, "What, did y'think I was gon' get you off, hm?" When you nodded, your eyes wide as you looked up at him, your lips slightly downturned, he just shook his head, "Nah, y'had your chance f'that, didn't you? Besides," he looked over to JJ, whose eyes were half-lidded, his chest rising and falling gently as breathed, his head leant against Rafe's bare shoulder, "J's worn out, you'll have t'wait."

You looked up at him with something along the lines of outrage and he just shrugged, squeezing your waist and pressed a kiss to your hairline, " 's what happens when y'don't listen, better remember for next time, yeah?"

You semi-glared at him, but gave up and rested your head on his bare chest, having removed his shirt at some point earlier, you looked at JJ to see if he'd show you some sympathy but to no avail, instead his lips just curled up in a teasing smile. Yeah, next time you'd listen.

Please lmk what you guys think, I'd love to hear from you! I'll also be happy to try and write any requests you may have <3

[putschki1969]

Kalafina Anniversary Live 2025 Pamphlet HQ Scans Part 1

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

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Interview with Keiko

--This will be Kalafina's first live performance in about seven years. How did you feel when you found out that the concert was going to be held?

“After each of us had pursued our solo activities, all I felt was a sense of joyful anticipation when it was decided that the three of us would be able to sing together again. I had always been following the other two's activities during the time we were apart so it felt like those seven years had passed before I knew it. Right now, I'm singing with a sense of purpose but originally I wasn't really interested in going solo, instead I was looking for a place where I could make use of my distinctive voice and feel needed. For me, Kalafina was a perfect match for what I was looking for so it's a great joy to be able to sing with the two of them again.”

--How did you feel when the three of you first got together to sing during a live rehearsal?

“Everyone was nervous for about 30 minutes on the first day of rehearsal and I think we were all looking at each other's singing, seeking some sort of confirmation, like 'how long should this note be?' Of course we have the music sheets to rely on but Kalafina's live performances are made up of a lot of improvisations created by the three of us working together. So even during rehearsals we don't just sing everything according to the music sheets. There were moments when we silently tried to gauge each other's feelings about certain sections, like, 'I'm sure we stretched this part out, didn't we?' or 'We should sing this part differently from the music sheet, right?' All of this made me think, 'Ah yes, that is Kalafina! It feels so good to be back!' I honestly had a lot of fun.”

--It's heartwarming, right? The way you can communicate without saying anything is made possible because the three of you have been working together for such a long time.

“And as soon as we remembered the way we used to feel there was no longer any need to check on each other. It really is as they say, once you get your body used to doing something, it's not easy to forget, no matter how much time passes.”

--Did you notice any changes in your singing style after doing many different things for six years?

“Of course there are aspects which are different but when all three of us come together to sing Kalafina songs, we naturally adjust our vocal power and vocalisation techniques to bring us closer to Kalafina's style, so to be honest, it felt like we were the same as before but maybe that's just my opinion. Actually, before rehearsals started, I thought that since we were getting together again after pursuing our solo activities, our singing style might change completely. But that wasn't the case at all, I felt like all three of us were cherishing the feeling of singing Kalafina songs.”

--You were able to get back on track so quickly because you had Kalafina's music as your base.

“Yes, I think so. In recent years, all three of us have been trying out a variety of songs and styles as soloists, searching for new ways of vocalisation and expression, but when it comes to Kalafina's music, we have already perfected a harmonious singing voice, so it was simply a matter of going back to our roots, this specific sound that's ingrained in us. From my perspective, I think the other two are singing in a different way than when they are doing their solo stuff.”

--What do you think of Wakana and Hikaru's vocal appeal?

“Once again, I realised that both of their voices have a solid presence. Kalafina's songs are centered around vocals and their most unique feature is a difficult melody that's hard to maintain. That's why if the voices don't have a strong presence, the impression of the vocals fades. Especially in the parts where our voices are not overlapping, or there's a transition between one voice and the other or even just a change of melody, if each voice doesn't have a strong presence, it will get drowned out. There is no such weakness in their vocals. And when I add my lower harmonies, I'm able to further highlight the greatness of the lyrics and melody. I was able to once again feel that beautiful balance between us.”

--All of Kalafina's songs have a unique worldview. Because it is so well-constructed, it's easy to get immersed in the world of those songs, isn't it?

“Every time we sing a song, I feel like a switch is turned on and I get carried away on a flood of emotions. Also, even the soft parts in the interludes can actually be important phrases that lead to a greater development, I think that's the appeal of Kalafina songs, the tension just continues uninterrupted. During these rehearsals, I realised once again that Kalafina's music is one-of-a-kind.”

--Even when you listen to it, it makes you want to hold your head up high and straighten your back. What are your feelings towards your fans right now?

“We are filled with so much gratitude that everyone can spend this moment with us, a moment that feels like a dream come true when we are finally able to sing together one more time. Everyone has their own feelings and associations when it comes to Kalafina's music, whether it's about specific songs, about an album, or how our activities have overlapped with their own lives. A live concert is when people with all kinds of feelings come together and enjoy music in the same space, and I think that in itself is a miracle. As the concert is being held in January, we want it to be a night of hope and a new start.”

--The dresses for today's photo shoot are white and the atmosphere is bright.

“There's a strong sparkling and euphoric vibe, right? *laughs* The photographer and art director took so many wonderful shots that I think they must be magicians who can manipulate light. Light is one of Kalafina's keywords, be it a ray of light in the darkness, a light of hope in our hearts or a light pouring down from the sky, all sorts of expressions of light have appeared in our songs. I think the photos turned out to be very Kalafina-esque and really fit our image.”

[mercy-burning]

(3) the trilogy. || THE DOCTOR.

in which the doctor finds the landlord's favorite missing trilogy of books on a quiet, snowy day... content: strong language, allusions to sex, kissing, fade to black fingering) word count: 3.6k

series masterlist | main masterlist

NOTE: Lots of fun stuff to come with these two soon! They're my favorite <3

———

On the days where Spencer is snowed inside, the perfect remedy should be a couple of books by the fireplace, but the fireplace is quite frankly impossible to keep up with (he never knows how much wood he actually needs and despite how many times he's tried, he swears the matchbook he has is faulty. It never starts.) And, he's read through all of the books he brought with him. Three times each.

The library is an option on a normal day, but the snowfall is so extreme that Stanton had called his house earlier in the morning to inform him that everyone had been requested to hold off on getting sick or injured until the Doctor was safe to leave his home. Sardinia is locked down for the day, he went on to explain, until the crew he'd called in to plow the roads with their heavy and capable machinery could tend to them.

For a town as small as this one, Spencer had just assumed everyone would have figured out how to manage heavy snow without calling in reinforcements. It's human nature, after all, to adapt to your surroundings and make do with what you have if not to develop a solution.

And then he looked outside, and he understood. He couldn't even see white. It was gray—the most snow he'd ever seen, caking every window and blocking him inside.

He spent a solid two hours scraping what he could off the windows and away from the door, until he created a pocket of light from the window above the couch and gave up on the rest. The wind at least had died down, the only noise available to him being his breathing and the creaks of the floor as he walked around. The sun was bright and it was above freezing, so he figured that should help melt what little bit he couldn't manage to scrape away. He showered, fought with the fireplace for another twenty-minutes out of pure boredom, and then gave up on that, too, thankful that the house had electric heating and the fireplace was merely for aesthetic purposes if nothing else.

And now, he sits on the couch, mindlessly thumbing through a book he's already read and wishing he had something else to keep him busy. Boredom only leads to wandering thoughts, and whenever he allows them to, they veer off into the inevitable direction of his landlord. Which only makes him more restless.

The very moment her beautiful, swollen and kissed-out lips enter the periphery of his brain, Spencer pushes himself off the couch and forces his legs to do the wandering instead. He doesn't even care where, he just needs to walk.

She'd been avoiding him since then—until she came to visit to have her stitches removed, and then she avoided him again. Their meeting then had been professional and straightforward, she jokingly handed him a ten-dollar bill for his trouble, and then she went home. He'd debated bringing up the kiss, maybe apologizing, but he also didn't want to risk poking the bear when, in the moment, the bear seemed relatively mollified. It was safe to assume they could silently move past it and remain civil, if not friendly, so that's what he did. He never brought it up, and they simply existed in each others' lives as background characters. No harm, no foul.

It admittedly saddens him a little, that familiar glorious fire in his body slowly dying out day by day without her spark to feed it, but... it's also safe. Given his temporary arrangement, that is exactly what he needs; Zero complications.

Still, it hadn't completely prevented his thoughts from wandering... He can't help it.

But damn it, he tries so hard.

Like now, as his feet pace back and forth along the hallway connecting his living room to the two little bedrooms on the opposite side of the cabin home. His eyes scan the oak paneling on the wall, finding it odd that one board is out farther than the others. It's not a vast difference, and to anyone walking down the hallway, it wouldn't stand out at all. But since his eyes are scanning everything with intent, something that small is impossible to unsee once it's been seen.

Spencer comes closer to inspect the wood, running his fingers along the grain when he feels the board shift a little. He presses harder, then tries with both hands to wiggle it out of place as he inspects the entire board from floor to ceiling.  Eventually, he notices that the nails holding it in place are extremely rusted and barely holding the board upright.

"She has to have a toolbox hidden in this place somewhere..." he ponders, turning to search.

After finding no luck in any of the cabinets, under the kitchen or bathroom sinks, or in the coat closet, he walks back to the guest bedroom and rummages through all the knitted blankets he's collected. For a while it's like he'd find one every time he entered a new area of the cabin that he hadn't explored. A few of them lay draped over the living room furniture now, but to keep the place organized to his liking, he just haphazardly folded and piled them into the guest bedroom closet, not thinking to see if there had been anything else in there.

Sure enough, once the shelves in there are completely clear of fabric, Spencer looks all the way on the highest one and can see a small pile of something shoved in the back. He reaches for it, hoping for something useful but finding only a stack of—

Books!

Not what he'd come in here for, but he isn't about to complain. Especially since he'd really just been so bored that he went in search of a tool box to fix the most negligible problem this house could possibly have.

He flips one over and sees the words, "Agent of Seduction," embossed over a couple in embrace. There are two more, "Agent of Passion," and, "Agent of Retribution."  Their covers are worn and well-loved, pages yellowed and creased, the spines barely readable. As he quickly fans through the pages, expelling the dust from its home between them, he wonders how there are even pages left. It looks (and smells, to be quite frank) like it should be falling apart at the seams.

It doesn't look like what he'd typically reach for, but... It's new. And since he really has nothing else to do...

Spencer sits down on the floor of the closet, nestled between piles of blankets, and opens to the first page of Agent of Seduction.

———

Dear Mom,

Today I might have stumbled onto the scariest story I've ever read. Not because it contains ghosts or horrors so intense that it gives you nightmares, but because of how accurately one major aspect parallels my current situation, as if I don't already feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone.

Don't get me wrong, it isn't entirely believable, especially where the crime-solving aspects are concerned. In fact, it seems like the author had merely watched something on TV and thought, "That doesn't look too hard to make up!" and thus, "Agent of Seduction" was born...

However, I'd be lying if I said I didn't get spooked by just about everything else.

The basic premise is that FBI Agent Samuel Stern must go into hiding to protect his identity from one of the most dangerous criminals the Bureau has ever encountered. In creating this brand new life for himself, he meets a woman named Rachel West, who he falls in love with. She's feisty and quick-witted, and when Samuel's past comes straight towards them like a freight train, she refuses to jump out of the way (much to Samuel's annoyance). Their relationship is built solely on fire—mutual attraction and nothing else—but while they're on the run together throughout the three books, they learn to open up and be vulnerable in a way that only enriches their feelings and the desire to truly love and be loved in return.

By now, you already know about my very own Rachel West, my landlord and the woman I can't stop thinking about... A lot of Samuel's inner monologue about her was extremely close to, if not exactly the same as, my inner monologue about Y/N. At one point near the end of the second book, Rachel gets kidnapped, and the final installment follows Samuel's journey to find her and finally exact his revenge on the criminal who has taken everything from him.

Inevitably, this journey leads Samuel to the grand realization that he's in love with Rachel, and after they finally reunite, the two of them live happily ever after.

Unfortunately, it was rather riveting.

Given the obvious major parallel here, you can also probably understand why it's spooked me. The details behind Samuel's "vacation" aren't necessarily the same as my own, but the mere fact that he works for the FBI and is protecting his identity far away from home... That in and of itself is far too much of a coincidence.

I know it's fiction. I know that real life is different from Samuel's... But I saw something in his story and in his relationship with Rachel that filled that hole of misunderstanding deep in my gut, and while I enjoyed myself for the most part, I also, unfortunately, have come to realize that I can never let myself pursue the fire and fall in love with Y/N.

I won't let her be tainted by my real life. Because if evil does, somehow, penetrate the snowy, magical borders of Sardinia and dig its claws into the purity within, there's no telling what I would do.

I can't let it happen.

———

Y/N loves snow days. Surprisingly, Sardinia doesn't see a whole lot of them— not like this anyway. It's rare that the entire town is on standby, but on the occasion that it is, she locks herself away on the back porch and watches the snow fall through the glass. It's cold, but she doesn't mind. She prefers it— hasn't known anything else, nor has she ever longed to.

The sun has started to set, and with the promise of oven-ready lasagna in just a couple of minutes, there isn't anything that could possibly dampen her perfect Sunday.

She only wishes she could figure out where she left her favorite trilogy. On snow days like these, especially back when she was in Junior High (the act of hiding them from her grandmother making the lure of the story even better, of course), reading Agent of Seduction was her favorite pastime. She'd read the entire trilogy back-to-back at least twenty times by this point, so she probably could have had it memorized. In fact, there are scenes that she has memorized, though nothing ever compares to reading them word for word.

At one point a few years ago, she'd accused her grandmother of stealing and selling them, though the woman denied it with a howling laugh. "I never gave a shit about what you read. Hell, if only you knew some of the books I hid from my mother when I was a teenager..."

At the thought of her grandmother, Y/N sighs, wishing she'd had the courage to ask her about them. The memory of cringing and quickly changing the subject is standard and funny, sure, but she hadn't known there wouldn't be much time left to even think about asking those questions.

Now, she doesn't have her grandmother or her favorite trilogy, and all she's left with is an emptiness that she hopes soon to fill with noodles and cheese.

Instead of the oven chime, three loud knocks sound at the front door, jolting her out of her reverie, and Y/N sighs again.

So much for a perfect Sunday...

Who the hell could possibly be knocking on her door today? The whole town is on lockdown... Only an idiot would be brave enough to—

"Doctor?"

Spencer's figure, sure enough, stands before her in a backdrop of golden, glittering white. His coat is caked in snow and he seems to be drowning in layers and layers of scarves, a plastic bag hanging from his hand as he manages a stiff smile; He's freezing.

"What the hell are you doing here? Don't you know the entire town is o—"

"On lockdown, yes. I know. But I brought you something."

Her instincts are telling her to usher him inside, but there's a fear that freezes her instead. Once she lets him inside on a snow day, there's no telling how long he'll stay. And those are consequences she would rather not discover today.

"Oh?" is all she can manage.

Spencer holds the bag out and she takes it. "I found these in your—er, my closet. I don't know if they belonged to you or not, but I figured it was a safe bet since it was your house... Anyway, I just... I thought I'd return them."

Opening the bag, hearing him explain, and seeing the familiar tattered cover of her favorite book all at once is like a fever dream. She almost can't believe it. In a whirlwind of emotions, she grabs the doctor by the jacket sleeve and tugs him inside without a sound, and he stumbles through the door with a start.

"What's wrong?"

"You're a fucking wizard."

"Excuse me?"

Her shaking hands gently retrieve the paperbacks from the plastic as he shuts the door behind him. She doesn't even care that he's technically been invited inside now.

Unbeknownst to her, as she fans through the pages just as he had when he found them, the sight brings a gentle smile to his lips.

"I was just thinking about these books a few minutes ago... I used to read them every snow day, over and over again to keep my mind occupied..." Then she laughs, shaking her head. "I thought I'd lost them for good. They were in your closet?"

"Mhm. Guest bedroom, all the way on the top shelf, in the back. I was looking for some blankets, a—"

"You didn't read them, did you?"

Her head snaps up and Spencer blinks at her for a moment before carefully answering, "No."

Something about it feels off to her. They stare at each other now, and suddenly she realizes the gravity of the situation, which is that he stands in her house, claiming not to have read her favorite books (which are sexually explicit in nature), even though his face clearly claims otherwise. He had brought them to her house during a weather lockdown of all days, right after she'd just been thinking about them, and she felt so grateful in the moment that the thought of kissing him on the mouth seemed like the perfect gesture of gratitude.

Obviously, there is only one outcome.

He needs to leave, now, before she does something stupid.

"You probably wouldn't like them anyway."

"Oh?"

The beguiled look on his face practically begs for elaboration, but she's not currently in the business of giving him one.

"Thank you for bringing them to me," she says, hoping to suggest finality and get him out the door. "I haven't had an entire night with no obligations to sit down and read these books in years. I'm way overdue."

He only stares back at her, his gaze unwavering in intensity. If he's disappointed at all, he doesn't show it in the least. She's afraid he might try to banter or take off his jacket, but in the end, the doctor only gives her a gentle nod.

"You're welcome."

A flood of different sensations come racing through her body then, as Spencer turns to leave; Relief that he's relenting, excitement to finally have and hold her favorite story again, hot tension under the residual potency of his staring, and the nagging feeling that whatever wildfire the two of them seem to have made together isn't actually anywhere close to being extinguished.

The door opens, swallowing the doctor in a halo of light, and just before he closes it behind him, he calls over his shoulder, "Enjoy yourself, my dear."

The paperbacks suddenly feel heavy in her hands. She almost drops them to the ground, cursing his name.

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

"Go away!"

Samuel's heart nearly shattered at the crack in her voice. He couldn't bear to witness his dear Rachel and her burning flame slowly dwindle under the suffocation of his true identity. His real life, once again, had attempted to take away everything he held dear to him, and he would be damned if he let it succeed this time.

"Rachel, please! You have to have to understand, I hated having to lie to you!"

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" she screeched, whipping around and snarling in his face. Alas, her fire remained, though it was unmistakably fueled by scorching pure rage and not the low-simmering wicked desire he's come to crave and adore. The pain in his heart worsened as she jabbed his chest, a fragile reminder of the new life she's breathed into him and the steady ache to protect it at all costs. "You're just like every other man I've ever met, except you might actually be worse! You put me in danger, and then spared me the details! And for what, so you could play the savior and 'protect' me? Huh?"

"You don't understand..."

"Then make me understand!"

The truth was that he couldn't let her go. No matter how annoyingly stubborn she proved herself to be, Samuel could not resist the warmth that settled in his bones when she touched him. He could not sit back and tell himself that she meant nothing to him when every time she quirked her eyebrow, he felt the overwhelming need to know everything she's ever felt. He wanted to know her. He wanted to experience her, in every single facet.

But he also didn't want his life to destroy her.

"It is killing me... Every day it kills me to know that the man who took everything from me and ruined my life is out there, and there's not a damn thing I can do about it... It kills me to be away from home, and it kills me to have to pretend like I'm not filled with unbridled rage every time I wake up... It kills me to know that I've let myself get attached to someone else, because it just means that's one more thing for him to destroy. But... God, Rachel, you've fucking set this fire in me that I can't put out. You're so sharp and strong and funny and beautiful, and you're so fucking stubborn... You're breaking down every defense I have, piece by piece, and for both of our safety, I should just let it go... But I can't..."

Her hardened stare hadn't eased, but her hands started a slow, gentle ascent over the planes of his stomach, up and up until they rested on his chest.

Samuel pressed one of her hands firmly to his heart. "Do you feel that, Rachel?"

"Your heartbeat?" she asked sarcastically through her teeth, her eyebrow quickly flinching upward.

"Yes. What you're feeling there is your work, and your work alone."

Unsurprisingly, Rachel snorted. Still, her fingers flexed over the fabric of his shirt and pulled him closer. "It's not healthy to put all that credit onto someone, you know. It could do irreparable damage."

It was true, but she was being snarky, as always. Which meant she must not have hated him as much as she was letting on.

Samuel took that as a good sign, deciding to allow himself to be cocky. He stared deep into her eyes and brought a hand to her throat, gently grazing it with the back of his knuckle. "So? Tell me I haven't already ruined you beyond repair..."

Rachel hummed and leaned into him, never one to turn down a challenge. "Says the man who just bared his soul out to me with tears in his eyes five seconds ago... Sounds like I'm the one who's ruined you."

Their breaths were so close together now, noses barely touching, Samuel didn't have time to process the look in her eyes before he said, "And now you understand," relenting and kissing her deeply.

She clutched his shirt so hard, he thought she might literally tear it to shreds in front of him as her devilish mouth battled him with a strength of its own. Rachel was fighting, even now, desperate to hold onto that power and control. And that was all fine and good, usually, but Samuel felt it in his bones that this time it was different.

Things between them now were different, and they always would be.

Whether he could put a name to that difference he didn't know, but he didn't care. He just wanted her to really truly understand how important she was to him, without the fight.

She had complete control over him, but she didn't need to prove it.

Samuel could do that on his own.

He backed her into the wall and brought her hands to her sides, inching languid, wet kisses down her jawline. Never in their time together had he been so gentle in control, so slow... Fire left no time for meticulous passion, only quick, sharp lust.

"What are we doing?" she breathed, rolling her body into him. "What is this?"

"I meant it, Rachel," Samuel vowed into her neck, his hand deftly undoing the button of her pants. "You're changing me... Giving me something to live for again..."

A soft gasp escaped her as he slid his hand smoothly down the front of her pants, and he reveled in the sound. The moment his fingers breached her entrance, she melted into him, crying out in a whimper.

"That's right," he sighed into her neck. "Enjoy yourself, my dear..."