#when francis called will ugly like

[t3acupz]

the most iconic thing about matthew brown is that he was written to be just another killer of the week but jonathan tucker played him as if he had the biggest stalker crush on will and that is so real

[mariacallous]

God works in mysterious ways. Take U.S. President Donald Trump. He claims that he survived an assassination attempt last July thanks to divine intervention. “I was saved by God to make America great again,” Trump said in an inaugural address. His belief is shared by many Christian leaders.

In their ranks, however, you won’t find the most influential of them all: the vicar of Christ. Pope Francis clearly doesn’t think that Trump has been anointed by God and is more likely to be praying for his failure than his success.

The day before Trump took office, Francis denounced the president’s plan for the mass deportations of undocumented immigrants while appearing on an Italian talk show. “If it is true, it will be a disgrace because it makes the poor wretches who have nothing pay the bill for the imbalance,” the pope declared. “It won’t do. This is not the way to solve things.”

That wasn’t a one-off jab from the Vatican.��The pope has a history of opposing the U.S. leader. Back in 2016, when Trump was just a Republican candidate promising to build a wall between Mexico and the United States, Francis said, “A person who thinks only about building walls, wherever they may be, and not building bridges, is not Christian.” Throughout Trump’s first term, he spoke out against what he saw as the president’s dangerous excesses, from spurning climate action to stoking fear in American society.

Now, nearly a decade later, the pope is back at it. “I think Francis is heading back into battle with Trump whether he wants to or not,” said Philip Shenon, a former New York Times investigative reporter and the author of Jesus Wept, a new book on the modern Catholic Church.

Francis doesn’t appear gleeful about the prospect of another crusade against Trump. “The pope is reluctant to do it, given how ugly the confrontation became in Trump’s first term,” Shenon said.

At 88, Francis is in bad shape for a grueling fight. He has weak lungs and falls ill often. Just a few days ago, he couldn’t speak at his weekly audience on account of a nasty cold. “He may worry, understandably, that he doesn’t have the energy for another go-round with Trump,” Shenon said. “But Francis doesn’t have a choice, I think, especially given the imminent prospect of mass deportations.”

For the Vatican, however, the initial casus belli wasn’t the United States’ mass deportation scheme but a provocation from Trump last December. The president appointed his close ally Brian Burch, president and co-founder of the conservative advocacy organization CatholicVote, as the U.S ambassador to the Holy See.

Burch, like many far-right Catholics in the United States, is a fierce critic of Francis. He has accused the pope of “progressive Catholic cheerleading” and castigated him for creating “massive confusion” by allowing priests to bless same-sex couples. He has also lent his support to Francis’s enemies in the church, including Carlo Maria Viganò, a traditionalist archbishop who was excommunicated in 2024.

This has all been in service of a radical political project. Burch was instrumental in fueling the rise of a conservative Catholic movement aligned with Trump—call it the church of Trump. Membership includes Vice President J.D. Vance, a Catholic convert, as well as other high-profile members of the new administration such as border czar Tom Homan and White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt.

Although U.S. conservative Catholics like to flaunt their faith, they have little respect for Francis. “They have long cast him as an enemy, a champion of liberal values they deem anathema to traditional Church doctrine,” said David Kertzer, the Pulitzer Prize-winning author of The Pope and Mussolini and The Pope at War. “And from what I can tell, it is U.S. wealthy Catholics who are the world’s primary funders of anti-Francis Church activities.” To top it all, Trump sent one of them to be his man in Vatican City.

As payback for the Burch appointment, Francis made a shock appointment of his own—naming Cardinal Robert McElroy as the new archbishop of Washington, D.C. A dedicated supporter of migrants, McElroy is among the most vocal anti-Trump clerics in the United States. He wasn’t the pope’s first choice, but circumstances changed his mind. “Last fall, word in the Vatican was that Francis had settled on a far less confrontational choice for the D.C. job,” Shenon said.

Confrontation now looks inevitable. Unsurprisingly, the first two weeks of Trump’s return to power have already given way to a war of words between the church and the White House.

On Jan. 20 and 21, the president signed a raft of executive orders cracking down on immigration. Two measures concerned the church directly: the suspension of refugee resettlement programs, which the church has long participated in, and the lifting of restrictions on U.S. immigration agents entering places of worship to round up undocumented immigrants.

The U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops immediately issued a statement in condemnation. Bishop Mark J. Seitz, who chairs the conference’s Committee on Migration, spoke to CBS News and sounded the alarm on the new administration’s immigration policies. He argued they went “against some of the basic tenets of our faith, frankly, the fundamental right of every human person that needs to be respected, no matter their origin, no matter their situation.” Seitz added that Francis “certainly is paying attention.”

The Trump administration didn’t turn the other cheek. Homan, who oversees deportations, struck a defiant tone in an interview for Newsmax, declaring that Francis “ought to stick to the Catholic Church and fix that because that’s a mess.” Vance, meanwhile, took aim at the bishops, accusing them of cupidity since the church receives money from the U.S. government under its refugee admission program. “The U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops needs to actually look in the mirror a little bit and recognize that when they receive over $100 million to help resettle illegal immigrants, are they worried about humanitarian concerns? Or are they actually worried about their bottom line?” Vance said to CBS News.

Vance’s remarks rocked the church. Even Cardinal Timothy Dolan, who is close to Trump and led a prayer at his inauguration, was incensed. “That’s just scurrilous. It’s very nasty, and it’s not true,” he said in rebuke to Vance on his weekly radio show. “You think we make money caring for the immigrants? We’re losing it hand over fist.” Dolan later expressed his solidarity with migrants in a video posted on the Good Newsroom. “The church I love should not be blasted for simply obeying the Bible and caring for those immigrants who came here through this clumsy, fractured system.”

In recent days, the Trump administration has made another move that affects the church: drastically slashing the foreign aid administered by the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID). As a result, Catholic Relief Services, an international humanitarian organization, stands to lose up to $750 million in grants from USAID, according to the National Catholic Reporter. Michael Czerny, a cardinal close to Francis, has condemned Trump’s USAID cuts, saying that millions will die as a result.

Francis has not directly commented yet, but relations between the White House and the Vatican are likely to worsen fast. The Trump administration shows no signs of contrition, but it should beware. The Catholic Church has a history of coming out on top against the merciless. During the second half of the Cold War, for instance, it supported the Solidarity movement in communist Poland, eventually leading to the fall of the regime in 1989. Three years earlier, in the Philippines, the church was instrumental in the People Power Revolution that toppled the brutal dictatorship of Ferdinand Marcos.

An ailing Francis might look like an easy target. But, unlike other heads of state, Trump can’t browbeat him. The reason is simple: The president has no leverage on the pope. He can’t slap tariffs on Vatican City, nor can he threaten to annex it and turn St. Peter’s Basilica into a hotel.

As he nears the end of his life, Francis is focused on shoring up his legacy. He just released his autobiography and is still determined to make his voice heard about the world. He won’t stand attacks from the MAGA movement, and neither will the Catholic Church.

Ultimately, therein lies the cardinal sin in the Trump administration’s reckless attitude toward the Vatican. They are turning their feud with the pope into something bigger: a feud with the church itself.

Francis might not be pope for long. And while U.S. conservative Catholics are hoping that they can influence the outcome of the next conclave, this is dubious. Francis has transformed the College of Cardinals. Nearly 80 percent of those who will elect the next pope were appointed by him. Many come from the global south and are in broad agreement with him. As such, Francis’s successor is likely to look unfavorably on Trump and Vance—all the more so if the church finally picks an African pope, who would put Africa’s economic development at the heart of their agenda. Cutting foreign aid and disparaging the vital work of charities around the world won’t be something that the next pope would forgive easily.

MAGA’s antics against the Vatican may well come back to haunt them. They think in soundbites. The Catholic Church, as the phrase goes, thinks in centuries.

[corpsedogs]

Jason Todd X Reader

angst, reader fakes death (spoilers?)

✿ francis forever — jason mourns you, but then he sees a familiar figure in an alleyway

It's been six months since you left. Jason has been lost in your absence. He can’t eat knowing that the food in front of him isn’t made by you. He can’t sleep because there will be no one to comfort him when he wakes up from a terrible dream. He can’t smile because there is nothing to smile about anymore. He misses your touch— and he misses holding you. He had hoped you thought of him when you died.

They said an assassin killed you. Jason woke up one morning to an empty bed, sunlight creeping across cold sheets. On the kitchen table: an envelope, photos, a letter. Rage consumed him. He vowed to hunt down whoever took you from him. He chased every lead, tore through every clue, only to slam into dead ends over and over again.

Every day, Jason visited your empty grave. He brought your favorite flowers, whispered updates about his day, left little gifts you’d once loved. Sometimes, he just sat there, fingers tracing your name carved into stone, willing it all to be a nightmare.

He hoped you noticed the things he still did for you. Washing the dishes. Buying groceries. Watching over Gotham from rooftops. Picking up the books, sweets, and records you used to stare at.

But there was one thing he regretted more than anything: not saying "I love you" enough. Words had always been hard for him. He hoped you knew how much he loved and adored you, but he would never stop blaming himself for not saying it more.

Of course, his family was there to comfort him. But he doesn’t want their reassurance, he wants yours. Your validation, your gaze, your love is what matters. He cannot bear your absence, he cannot believe you left the earth.

Last summer, quiet streets and solitary walks.

He remembers walking on the streets with you, no matter how awful looking the Gotham view is. He would always lead you to the other places like the docs or a walk around Wayne manor. You always insisted on Gotham’s streets in daylight—said the sun made even Gotham feel safe, just for a little while.. and it wouldn’t hurt exploring the city.

On Tuesdays, he would go out walking on the streets. Hands in pockets, no goal in mind— just hoping your ghost would be walking there with him. He goes to the Gotham park and walks in the treeline street. If you were here, he’d scribble the spot on a sticky note and slap it on the fridge—your unofficial invitation to join him.

He looks at the horizon on the tree-lined street. He misses you so much.

Then, Jason comes back to the ugly streets of Gotham. He walks to an empty alleyway, graffiti painted all over the walls. He heard a commotion ahead—fists hitting flesh. Instinct took over. But when he rounded the corner, he froze.

The figure fighting off the thugs felt… familiar.

“Sweetheart?” he called out, barely a whisper. The figure stilled. “You should leave,” you said, and Jason’s heart stopped. He knew that voice.

He walks forward with steady and heavy steps, the sound of his boots echoing through the empty and dirty alleyway, “It’s you?” he asks.

You turn your head, and there you are. Still beautiful as the day he lost you. You were a bit different of course— shorter hair, different clothes, different look in your eyes.

The way you looked back at him hurts. Fear flickered in your eyes— guilt too, but mostly you just waited. Silent. Bracing for the words he hadn’t figured out how to say.

You huff, “I know what you’re going to say.” you started, wiping the blood in your knuckles. “How could I have done this? Faked my own death, wondering why I never came back to you.”

He walks closer to you as you back away an inch, “I don’t know, okay! I wanted to keep you safe, I don’t want the thing that could’ve been my fate happen to you.”

He doesn’t utter a single word and you start to get frustrated, “Oh, stop with that. Go on, say something. Shout, scream— say something!”

He placed a hand on your cheek and the world seemed to stand still.

How could he yell or scream at you? How could he when you were right there in front of him. He could see you, feel you, touch you. It felt so real. His thumb slowly stroked your cheek while his eyes searched your face.

“Jason—“ you utter his name, begging him to say something.

His mind couldn’t wrap around it. You were in front of him. Breathing. Real. His heart believed it, but his brain told him this had to be a dream.His fingers traced your eyebrows, your nose, your lips—memorizing every inch of your face.

Finally, he spoke. Soft. Fragile.

“Why?” he asked. His voice was tight, his blue eyes locked on yours like he was afraid you’d vanish. “Why did you leave me?”

His hand slipped behind your neck, the other settling at your waist. He pulled you close, burying his face against your shoulder. His grip tightened—like he’d never let go again.

Tears welled in his eyes. All he’d wanted—for six long months—was this. To hold you. To feel you. To have you.

His fingers curled in your shirt, his voice muffled in your neck. “Please, don’t leave me again.”

He clung to the warmth of you. Your breath. Your heartbeat. The feel of you in his arms. It all hurt—it hurt because it was real.

“I missed you so much,” he whispered, tears streaming down his face.

Now it was your turn to be speechless.

Despite the dark, grimy alleyway, Jason didn’t care. All that mattered was you. You closed your eyes. Pulled him close. “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

He didn’t answer right away. Just repeated your name softly, like he was trying to believe this was real.

When he finally pulled back, his face was streaked with tears. He looked at you, disbelief still painting his features.

Then the anger returned.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he asked, his tone harsh. “Leaving me like that? Letting me think you were dead for months?”

You didn’t answer. Guilt weighs heavy in your silence.

“Six months!” he barked. “Six months I thought you were gone! I went through hell trying to accept it. And now you just show up, like nothing happened?!”

His voice cracked, rising. “Did you think I wouldn’t care? That I’d just move on?”

His chest heaved as he stared at you. Anger. Pain. Desperation.

“I spent every night wondering. Wondering if you were alive, if you were in pain, if you were alone. I didn’t know why. I just knew you were gone.”

He broke again. Voice shaking. “Why… why did you leave me?”

You grabbed his arms. “I was afraid. If they found out I was alive, they’d come for you next.”

Jason’s brows furrowed. “Afraid?” he repeated. “That doesn’t give you the right to vanish like that!”He pulled away, stepping back as he tried to rein in his emotions.

He clenched his fists, remembering that awful morning. The cold sheets. The letter. The silence.

He tried to move on. Tried violence, rooftop patrols, long walks in the park—but nothing filled the space you left behind.

“I couldn’t sleep. I could barely eat. I was a mess—all because of you.”

You snapped.

“Then leave me if I hurt you so much! If I don’t deserve you—then just go!”

Jason froze, eyes wide at your words.

He stepped closer, gaze locked onto yours. “You think I can just walk away from you? Like you never mattered? You’re out of your mind if you think I could give up on you.”

You shook your head. “How could you still love me after everything I did?”

He exhaled slowly.

“Yes,” he said simply. “I’m still waiting for you to come back. Because I know I can’t move on from you. I won’t.”

His voice softened. “I know you’re worth the wait. But do you even understand how much it hurt? How hard it was just to breathe without you?”

Another step closer.

“I need you. I need you, sweetheart…”

You looked at him. Your voice barely above a whisper.

“What… what do you want me to do?”

“You really want me back?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” Jason said, like it was the simplest truth in the world. He lifted your face, thumbs brushing your cheek. “I don’t care about anything else.”

You stood still for a heartbeat—then broke, throwing your arms around him.

He kissed your forehead, breath hitching. “I love you,” he whispered.

i should be… studying……….

[fanartlover1234]

MAGIC

Y/n and Mattheo aint the best of friends but when they f(u)ck at a party she sees a different side of him

MATTHEO RIDDLE X FEM!READER

(Tbh mighy make it a story on my wattpad or here if it blows up)

Y/n and Mattheo their 'friendship' was known in hogwarts, for their constant bickering but also their weird care for eachother.

For example, Mattheo would call Y/n a bitch but oh god if someoen else dares to call her a bitch.

Y/n can be fighting with Mattheo before he gets into a fight or even still yell at eachother while he fights but she will always take care of his bruises.

Everyone knew Y/n was off limits and well so was Mattheo.

In third year Y/n started having a huge crush on Mattheo but during fifth year Y/n got her current boyfriend thinking she sould move on as shs woulf never have a chance.

Y/n was off limits for two reasons, first being she had a boyfriends second being that everyone knew Mattheo would be after her the minute they broke up as he liked her as well.

Well enough of that, lets get to the fun part.

Slytherin new years party was the biggest party of the year, for the first three years the profesors tried to stop it, but soon gave up after realising it would happen anyway.

Y/n was making her way downstairs when Mattheo noticed her from the bar and they soon locked eyes so he waved her over.

As she made her way towards him he looked her up and down, her black silk dress and heels fiting her perfectly as she flashed one of her beautiful smiles towards him as she said a quick hi to Theo who was making a drink for her already flashing him a smile when he handed her the glass.

"Y/n, beautiful as always"

"But yesterday i was ugly?" She sarcasticly questioned him making him roll his eyes.

"Dont push it L/n" he said leaning closer to her.

"Red code" Theo said as he pointed to the staids to Francis who was your current boyfriend also in high line at the Deatheaters so you werent able fo break up with him for your parents sake as they wished for you to be with some pure high line guy, bonus if he is a deatheater.

"Can you guys stop mocking him?" Y/n said rolling her eyes as she took a sip of her drink when Francis noticed her and begam walking over to her.

"We just dont get why you are with him, like"

"You kno-"

"Yeah yeah, your parents" Mattheo cut her off before begining to speak again " i know plenty of guys who are in higher line than he is"

"Babe" Francis spoke.

"Hey!" She said avoiding eye contact with him as she shifted uncomfortably.

"Lets go, i have something for you" Francis said squizing Y/ns ass as she pulled back.

"Francis i really dont feel like it tonight" she said pulling back but Francis pulled her back.

"Hey dude, we were talking actually"

"Yeah well i feel like fucking her"

"Well she doesnt"

"Yeah and who are you to tell me what to-"

Mattheo swung a punch at Francis making you drop your glass in fear, Theo made his way to them both as you screamed for them to stop fighting.

After a few minutes they were finaly pulled back as you just left annoyed after screaming at both of them that they are assholes.

Mattheo after few seconds went after you and Francis tried as well but Theo steped before him placing a hand on his shoulder "dont even think about it"

"Out of my way" Francis said but everyone steped around him.

"No one messes with our Y/n" Lorenzo said as he stood behind Theo.

Meanwhile Mattheo knocked on Y/ns door.

"Y/n c'mon open up"

No respone.

"I know it was dumb to fight him but he was being a complete shit"

Mattheo heard soft steps towards the door before they opened up and y/n stood there.

She pulled him in without saying anything to him, sitting him down on the bed before going into her bathroom and coming out with a first aid kit sitting down next to him.

She took his hand as she began cleaning it carefuly.

Mattheo looked at her hed brows furrowed as she cleaned it, her hands gently around his as she tried not to hurt him before she looked up at him, her eyes looking at his brown ones before she brushed her hand over a bruise thay was begining to firm on his cheekbone.

He took her hand in his.

"Matt-"

"I know just"

"Matt, we can't, you know that"

"No i dont know that, you dont even like him"

She looked down before collecting the meds and placing them down on the table as she walked towards her closet.

Mattheo followed her, holding the door as he pulled her towards him as she tried steping back but he grabed her waist.

Suddenly all thoughts left her mind as she kissed him.

One thing leading to another before her roommate walked in and Mattheo used magic to shift them back to his room.

The next morning Y/n woke up and began to sit up but Mattheo placed a hand on her waist sitting up next to her when she sat back down after she couldnt walk, last night was fun, Y/n had to admit to herself that it was the best she ever had.

"Where are you, going, your legs ar still trembling, if you need bathroom ill take you" he spoke as he handed the girl on of his shirts before she wore it.

"Uh no im going to my dorm, y'know" she said taking her phone but Mattheo stoped her.

"No, no you arent and i dont know, you cant even walk" he said taking her phone and placing it on the nightstand as he leaned to the table he could feel Y/n squirm a little bit " let me take care of you" he said laying her back down, sitting between her legs as he rubbed them up and down his hands going on her hips as he saw her wince.

He looked concerned and Y/ns eyes went wide as she let herself slip.

"Mattheo dont" she said but Mattheo had already pulled up her shirt revieling not only a big bruise but also a cut.

"Is this from me" he asked refering the bruise but Y/n shook her head.

"Him? Is he making you leave after sex, leaving cuts and bruises on you?"

Y/n silance was all the answears he needed to know it had been him.

He wanted to leave but Y/n grabing his wrist stoppef him as she looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears as she sniffled a littlw before hugging him, he felt her teatrs drop on his chest as he relaxed a little his hands hugging her, caging her in a protective way as he kissed the top of her head.

[jammydodger3579]

Ice Cream and Shots

Summary: This was requested by the lovely @sugarplumz100. The reader has a mutation like Mileena from Mortal Kombat and believes she's an ugly monster.

A/N: the most fun I've had writing in a while. i loved this request so keep them coming !!!

Masterlist here Patreon here

18+ for mature audiences only.

2900 word count.

Warnings: smut, oral masc!receiving. cursing

She’s beautiful, truly- a sight to behold. She just didn’t know it. She thought she was a monster, a killer, an abomination that the lovely Francis made. It wasn’t true. No matter how many times her best friend Wade told her. He was amazing, getting her the apartment next door to his so they could always hang out. They’d met while getting tortured, and Wade had saved her from the explosion he caused. Together, they took down Francis, getting him back for making them into “monsters”. She was there when he and Vanessa broke up, and now she’s there for him as he tells her the story of how he saved the multiverse. Her head was spinning as he spoke. 

“And that's how Peanut here came to this universe,” he said. She nodded, still processing the whole “multiverse” bit. She stared at the man before her. He looked rough, his eyes were tired. He didn’t say a word, just nodding along with what Wade said. 

“You can call me Logan” he speaks! she thought to herself. 

“You can call me Y/N” she introduced herself. Her voice was slightly muffled from the mask she wore. Wade was kind enough to text her that someone new was coming home with him so she had enough time to prepare mentally. She just didn't know he would bring home someone so attractive. “So… You’re a mutant?” she asked cautiously. Logan nodded and made a fist. Three metal claws extended from his knuckles. She was intrigued. 

“My whole skeleton is metal. And I heal really fast like Wade here.” 

“Pookie here is an old fella, over 200 years old” Wade chimed in, patting Logan on the back. “Anyway, we gotta prepare, I’m hosting an “I’m Marvel Jesus” party and we need snacks! Would you guys like to come shopping or do you wanna stay home and decorate?” 

“Decorate,” Y/N and Logan said at the same time. Logan looked at her. 

“Okay lame, but fair enough. Stay home and get to know each other, I think you’ll make great friends!” Wade said getting up. He walked off into his room to get changed. Wade was way more optimistic about being friends with Logan than she was. She got along with Wade’s friends, but she still kept her guard up. She didn’t even like taking her mask off around them. But Wade was her best friend, so she decided to make an attempt at the very least.

—

Y/N was hanging up a sign that said “Marvel Jesus” over the window in Wade’s apartment. She and Logan worked in silence, both of them not knowing what to say to each other. The apartment was completely decorated, with lights and streamers hanging from the walls. She looked around, deciding that was enough decorating. 

“Can I ask… what’s with the mask?” Logan said, looking at her face. She shook her head. 

“My mutation… I’m horrible to look at so I cover it up” she spoke softly, avoiding Logan’s gaze. She sighed, “They made me into a monster, perfect for killing,” 

“Hey, don’t say that” Logan searched her face. He had a look in his eyes that Y/N just couldn’t place. The two stared at each other until the door opened. Wade walked in and put a bag of groceries on the table. 

“Honey! I’m home” he said, opening his arms for Mary Puppins to run into. He picked the dog up and looked at the two in his living room. “Whoa, did I walk in on something?” 

“No. Sorry Wade, but something came up and I can’t hang out tonight” She said, before grabbing her coat and leaving the apartment. She went to her home next door, taking her mask off as she entered. She sighed, taking a seat on the couch. She could hear talking on the other side of the wall, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. 

— 

She never got used to the new neighbour. It had been three weeks and they barely talked more than about how their day was going when they’d bump into each other in the hallway. She still hung out with Wade though, making for some very tense movie nights in his apartment. Y/N couldn’t help but feel drawn to Logan, yet that made her retreat more into herself. She was afraid of opening up to him and not being able to stop. Still, it had been a few weeks of knowing Logan and she still hadn’t shown him under the mask. Wade leaned over and handed her the popcorn, causing her to shake her head.

“Come on, I know you want some” Wade taunted the popcorn in front of her face. “You’re practically wasting away over there, I know you’re hungry”

“Popcorn isn’t really the food you eat when you’re hungry,” Logan said, leaning over Wade and grabbing a handful. “Stop pushing her, it’s fine” 

“No, it’s not fine! Y/N, bestie, I love you but you’ve got to take off the mask. Logan here doesn’t care what you look like. We’re all mutants so you shouldn’t feel like you have to hide” Wade spoke softly. She knew she didn’t have to hide, but it still felt like a security blanket. She decided to compromise instead. 

“Just this once, only because I want popcorn,” she said, taking her mask off. Logan stared at her. Her large smile extended ear to ear, her teeth were sharp canines. She got a handful of popcorn and ate it one by one. Her long tongue came out to lick her lips. Logan was mesmerised. He’d never seen a mutation so… beautiful. Blushing, Y/N lifted the mask back over her face, noticing Logan's stare. He averted his gaze, embarrassed that he stared for so long. 

“You don't… don’t feel like you have to hide,” Logan said, looking flustered. Y/N smiled lowering her mask. She met Logan's eyes and he smiled at her. “You don’t look like a monster to me”

“Aww you two are so cute together” Wade chimed in, ruining the moment. Not that there could've been a moment, since Wade was positioned between the two on the couch. Logan coughed and shifted in his seat, probably annoyed at Wade’s insinuation. Y/N sighed and leaned back into the couch. She felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest. Now that Logan knows what she looks like, maybe she can get to know him better too.

—

The next night, Y/N was in the building's laundry room, folding her freshly dried clothing. Logan walked in with an empty basket, starting to unload his dry washing. “Hey, how's your day going?” Y/N said. She still had her mask on, in case she bumped into a neighbour who isn’t chill with mutants. 

“Not bad, can’t complain. Wade and his mates went out for the night but I stayed back to have some peace from that man,” Y/N laughed.

“There’s no getting peace from Wade. On the odd occasion, I bring someone home with me from a date, Wade always has to pop in and check them out for himself. And once I’ve finally convinced my date that my neighbour is chill and no they’re not my jealous boyfriend, the night always turns sour for a different reason…” She gestured to her face. “So back to Wades I go for shots and ice cream because that’s the second date this week that doesn’t want to sleep with a crazy monster” She sighed, shaking her head. “Sorry Logan, I shouldn’t be venting to you, I’ve just had a rough day”

“Hey it’s okay, we all need to vent sometimes, and for the record, I don’t think you look like a monster. Those dates obviously don’t know what they’re missing out on.” Logan said, putting a new load of washing in the dryer and turning it on. 

“Do you... wanna have shots and ice cream?” She asked cautiously. Logan smiled. 

“Of course” The pair went up to their respective apartments, Logan slipping in just to put his washing on the couch and grab a bottle of tequila. He knocked on the door to Y/N’s apartment. 

“Come in!” she chimed. She had two bowls of ice cream set out on the kitchen island and a bunch of shot glasses lined up. She’d taken her mask off, so Logan could see her beaming smile as he walked into the living room. He smiled back, taking in the decor of her living room. Everything was pink or purple and had a dark, gothic aesthetic to it. Her shelves that displayed figurines were the shape of coffins. Logan chuckled. 

“Not quite the apartment I was expecting,” He said, looking around. He handed the tequila to Y/N and took a seat at the kitchen island. She poured twelve shots, pushing six of them closer to Logan. “Is there any particular way we do this or…?” She shook her head. 

“Wade and I would just do all six shots and then eat the ice cream,” she said, picking up a shot glass. 

“Cheers,” Logan said, picking one up as well. They did the shots in sync, Logan waiting for Y/N before moving on to the next one. She had a burning sensation in the back of her throat so she took a spoonful of ice cream as soon as she was done with the last shot. Logan chuckled. 

“Not a fan of tequila?” 

“Not a fan of how fast you were throwing them back,” She said, swallowing her ice cream. 

“I kept up with you” 

“You probably could’ve gone faster” She poured twelve more shots. “I wanna see how fast you really can throw these back.” she had a mischievous grin on her face. Logan smiled, not phased by the idea of getting drunk. 

“You’re on, princess” He picked up the first shot glass and started throwing them back one by one, not caring about the afterlast. Y/N smiled.

“Impressive” She picked one of her six shots and started drinking them, not as fast as Logan, however. She took her time, making sure each one won’t return on her. “Tell me something about your universe?” Logan’s face dropped. He didn’t talk about his universe. Y/N didn’t know why and until now, didn’t question it. She shook her head. “It’s fine if you don’t want to share” 

“No, I want to it, it just… well it’s not nice. Mutants aren’t safe there… the X-men are all dead. It’s not nice, you wouldn’t like it” 

“I’m glad you’re here then” 

“I’m glad I’m here too” Logan picked up his bowl of ice cream and started to eat it. Y/N moved around the kitchen island and went to the couch, patting the spot next to her for Logan. He took the hint and sat next to her. 

“So what else do you and Wade do when you’re having shots and ice cream?” 

“Mostly just complain about the dates I’ve just had” 

“Got anything to complain about?” 

“I can’t remember when I last had sex” Logan snorted on his ice cream. He wasn’t expecting Y/N to say that. “Sorry that was probably a bit too tmi… ah too much information” she corrected herself. 

“No it’s fine” Logan said chuckling, “I’m in the same boat” They looked at each other for a moment before Y/N turned away, blushing. She liked Logan and found him intriguing. She was opening up to him which surprised her even. She just wasn’t sure how to approach him. Their silence was interrupted by the sound of the door to Wade’s apartment opening with a bang. 

“Honey, I’m home!!” he yelled. Y/N knocked a tune on the wall connecting the two apartments, signalling for Wade to come over. It wasn’t long before he appeared in the door frame to Y/N’s apartment. She smiled at him. 

“Good night out?” she asked the man. He nodded and got the shot glasses and tequila off the kitchen island. 

“So much fun… though looks like you guys have been having more fun without me” 

“You can join us” Y/N said, looking at Logan. He nodded and Wade lined the shot glasses up on the coffee table before filling them up. He sat on the floor, taking shots. 

“Nes brought her stupid what’s his face boyfriend along and it was so annoying!” Wade cried after finishing three shots. He drank another when Logan spoke up. 

“Have you even talked to her about how you feel?”

“Oh no, Wade doesn’t do big feelings talks” Y/N said matter of factly. Logan nodded. 

“She said she’s still just casual with this guy and she doesn’t want to jump into anything serious but I think she’s just stalling him” Wade said. He looked bummed. “So anyway, what have you guys been talking about?”

“Nothing really,” Y/N said, looking at Logan. He nodded, probably not wanting to bring up their awkward sex conversation. 

“Ohh you guys were having another moment” Wade said in a singsongy voice. “Well don’t let me ruin it for you, I’ll be outta your hair in no time” Wade finished the twelfth shot and got off the floor. He patted his jacket pocket before chucking something at Y/N and then headed to the door. She looked, it was a wrapped condom. “Y’know, don’t want any mutant babies” He added before leaving. Logan sighed. 

“I don’t know what he thinks we were doing before he arrived but I’m pretty sure he got the wrong idea,” he said. 

“Did he get the wrong idea?” Y/N said, looking at Logan. He had that face, the one she couldn’t read. 

“...No, he didn’t” Logan pulled Y/N onto his lap and started kissing her. It was messy, rough. Both of them desperate for contact. She lifted his shirt over his head and threw it onto the floor. Logan started unbuttoning Y/N’s top and tossed it aside with his clothes. She was grinding her hips against Logan, feeling his growing need against his pants. He started kissing her neck, nibbling just below her ear. She fumbled with his belt before she managed to free his massive cock. She smiled before getting off his lap and positioning herself between his legs. She licked up his shelf, excited to hear Logan moan in pleasure. Her long tongue wrapped itself around him, stroking up and down. Logan threw his head back, hitting the wall as he did. His hips buckled up, and Y/N took this as a hint to go faster. She resisted the urge to touch herself, Logan’s moans making her pussy wet. She kept jacking him off with her tongue until he came all over her tongue. She lapped it up, licking her lips and swallowing. They made eye contact before Logan pulled her up onto his lap again. They kissed, and Logan could taste himself in her mouth. She started grinding against Logan when he winced. “Give me just a moment sweetheart and I’ll be ploughing into you like there’s no tomorrow” 

“Can’t wait,” she said, getting off Logan to take her pants and underwear off. She took her bra off and stood before Logan naked. He shook his pants off his legs to join her. He looked at her, full of lust and awe. 

“You’re so beautiful. Really, don’t let anyone tell you you’re not” he said, pulling her back onto his lap. She smiled, putting a hand around his cock and stroking it ever so slowly. It hardened in her hand as she went, causing Logan to moan again. “I need you”

“Oh thank god” she said, positioning herself on top of Logan. She took a minute to get used to the size before she started moving. She was sloppy, desperate to feel good. Logan cupped her breasts, rubbing his thumb over her nipples to tease her just that little bit further. She had her hands on the wall behind Logan, leaning against his chest so she could move faster. Logan’s hips moved to meet hers, desperate to feel some kind of control. He moved a hand down to find her clit, rubbing slowly to mess with her. She kissed Logan, her tongue dominating his mouth. He let her, enjoying being topped for once. They were a symphony of moaning as their bodies snapped together, each movement getting them closer and closer to release. ‘I-I’m getting-” 

“I know baby” Logan picked Y/N up and slammed her back into the couch so he was on top, a firm grip on her hips. He did as he said, ploughing her into the couch. She screamed his name, causing him to go faster. The couch kept hitting the wall loudly, with each thrust from Logan. Her legs wrapped around Logan’s waist as she came. Logan kept his speed up, his thrusts becoming sloppy and messy. Another wave of pleasure washed over her body as she felt Logan cum inside her. Her breathing was heavy as they rode out their high together. They pulled apart from each other, Logan taking a seat on the couch. Y/N leaned against his chest and he held her. “...I meant it, y’know, you’re very beautiful” He placed a kiss to her forehead.

[bennyboyfics]

Finding out || Ben Shelton x gf!reader

Summary: finding out Ben cheated on you :(

Wc: 985

Warnings: angst

A/n: sorry I felt like writing a sad angst fic 😭

MASTERLIST

-

Your steps falter, the rhythmic click of your heels against the pavement slowing as a knot tightens in your stomach. Your brows furrow, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as your fingers tighten around your phone. The vibrant energy of New York City blurs around you, neon lights and laughter fading into a distant hum as your eyes scan over the text messages again and again, willing them to change.

Coco notices your sudden stillness and stops beside you, her brows knitting together in concern. “You good?” she asks, nudging your arm lightly. Your voice comes out barely above a whisper, thick with disbelief. “Wait… they have to be playing me.” Coco leans in, eyes flicking to your screen, her expression quickly shifting from confusion to shock. The messages stare back at you, undeniable proof—screenshots of conversations, of words sent from Ben’s number to another girl. Flirty. Familiar. Too damn comfortable.

Coco’s breath hitches. “That’s gotta be fake,” she says, but her voice wavers. You shake your head, throat tightening, fingers scrolling with trembling urgency through the thread of messages. The pit in your stomach grows heavier with every new text, every reply, every fucking emoji that makes you want to throw your phone into the street. “What the fuck?” you whisper, barely aware of your own voice. The words feel too small, too empty to match the storm brewing inside you.

Coco swallows hard, eyes flicking around as if searching for an explanation, a way to make this make sense. “Where is he right now?” she asks. Your breath stutters, the burning in your throat worsening as the weight of it all crashes over you. The city feels suffocating now—too loud, too bright, too fake. Just hours ago, this night had been perfect. Drinks with friends, laughter, the kind of fun that makes you forget the world outside of it.

And now? Now, it’s crashing down like a poorly built house of cards. You sniffle, trying to keep your composure, but your voice cracks anyway. “With Chris and Francis.” Coco’s hand finds your back, rubbing slow, reassuring circles, but nothing feels comforting right now. “I’ll call him,” you murmur, throat tight, thumb already hovering over Ben’s contact. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as the phone starts ringing.

The phone rings. Once. Twice. Three times. Your grip on the phone tightens, your breath unsteady, but you force yourself to stay composed. The city moves around you, but it all feels distant—like you’re underwater, drowning in the weight of what you just saw. The ache in your throat burns, and the tears that blur your vision spill over, warm and heavy against your chilled skin. But when the call finally connects, when you hear his voice, it’s like the world stills.

“Hey, baby,” Ben answers, his tone casual, almost lazy—like he has no idea that your whole night has crumbled into something ugly. You swallow hard, willing your voice to stay steady. “Where are you?” He hesitates. “Uh, back at the hotel. Why?” Coco‘s hand continues to rub comforting circles on your back as you wipe your cheek with the sleeve of your jacket. The tears keep coming, but your voice remains eerily calm, even as it cracks at the edges. “Are you alone?”

“Yeah—” “Are you sure?” The silence stretches between you, thin and sharp like a blade. “Yeah,” he says again, but slower this time. More careful. You let out a shaky breath, the cold air biting at your damp cheeks. “So explain something to me, Ben,” you say quietly, voice breaking just slightly. “Why am I getting messages from some girl saying you’ve been talking to her?”

His breath catches, and for a second, he doesn’t speak. “Ben,” you press, still eerily composed, even as your heart slams against your ribs. “Say something.” “I—I don’t know,” he says finally, voice uneven. “I don’t know what this is.” Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, hard enough that you taste blood. “What do you mean you don’t know?” The words come out softer than you expect, but there’s an edge beneath them, a sharpness that makes your chest ache.

“I swear, there’s no one else,” he says, his voice a little more frantic now. “I don’t know who’s texting you that shit, but it’s not true. Baby, I wouldn’t—” “How do I know that?” you whisper, and this time, your voice shakes, the first real crack in your composure. “How do I know that, Ben?” “You just—you have to trust me.” “Trust you?” You shake your head, blinking back the fresh wave of tears clouding your vision.

His breathing is uneven on the other end. “It’s not your fault.” And that’s what breaks you. “Of course, I know it’s not my fault,” you say, your voice trembling now, but still controlled, still sharp. “Do you think I need you to tell me that?” “Baby, please—” You inhale sharply, forcing yourself to stay composed even as your whole body feels like it’s unraveling. “No,” you whisper. “I don’t want to hear it, Ben. I don’t want to hear excuses. I just—”

Your breath shudders, and you close your eyes. “What’s wrong with you?” He’s silent, and for the first time, you think he really doesn’t have an answer. “Look, I’ll talk to you later when you get back, okay?” He then says as you sniffle, looking at Coco who shakes her head. “Right,” your murmur before ending the call and covering your face with your hand as you just sob.

[phatkochi]

Hello!! Do you have any Milkplan headcanon? (I hope you don't mind me asking)

Mind??? Bro I'm THANKING YOU for asking this cause I really wanted to share them eventually 😭😭😭🤍

Milkplane HCs 🥛🛩️

- Childhood friends but they sort of have a frenemy like relationship if that makes sense (enemies to lovers Milkplane WHAT)

- Francis is taller but Steven is more built/bulkier

- Initially it was Steven who planned to confess & Francis knew but just waited HOWEVER some slip up happens and Francis accidentally confesses first before Steven

- Steven is clingy & touch starved and while Francis hates physical touch, he doesn't mind giving it to Steven

- THEY BOTH STINK TAKE A SHOWER YOU TWO

- Francis has a thing for country people ig (both Nacha and Steven have southern accents)

- They like to use each other's self-care products or cologne

- Steven does more self-care than Francis though (Francis washes his face with cold water and calls it a day 😭)

- Constant sleepovers

- Mclooy already knew all along (much to Steven's surprise) but he's just a chill guy like that ykyk

- Cuddles when they sleep hell yeah

- late night hangouts almost every week (ON STEVEN'S BIKE NONETHELESS – Oh btw I HC that Steven rides and owns a bike yee)

- They're those two friends who separate themselves from the main group to go on a side quest adventure

- Writes letters to each other whenever Steven's away

- Anastacha has 2 dads and a mom (or maybe 3 moms and one of them is her teacher 🤨🤨🤨)

- Enjoy smoking together up on the apartment's roof

Ok that's all for now!!! Hoping to add more soon :]

(Initially I never wanted to share this cause FRANCIS LOOKS UGLY 😭😭😭 Also I forgot the 'Milkman' on his hat lmao)

[ray935sworld]

A kiss in the darkness

Beznaia

22.12 winter writing

content warning: masturbation

Everything on their trip seemed to be cursed. First Vale and Luca bailed out the academy winter trip. In their defense, Franci was pregnant and Luca definitely would not enjoy the trip when his 2 month old daughter was at home.

Franky had already booked a stay in Brazil to catch up with his family and his boyfriend had finally found the guts to join him. So Migno was out too.

And Cele had gone down with the flue only a few days prior, leaving Pecco and Bez to go alone.

And at first this had seem like a dream come true for Pecco. He would be able to spent a few days all alone with the man who he had a crush on since they were stupid teenager. No one to interrupt them. No one to call him out if he was staring to much. And most importantly - no one to distract Bez from spending time with him.

Then it dawned on him.

He would spent days ALONE with the man who he had a crush on since they were stupid teenager with no real other distraction.

He had been driving when the realization hit him fully. Marco was next to him, singing along to the mamma mia soundtrack. It was completly out if tone and objectively speaking, terrible. But when the older Italian turned to him and saw how his thick curls nodded along with the rhythm and how happy and relaxed he looked, he knew it was the most wonderful thing he ever heard.

He took a deep breath, knowing this could either be the worst or the best holiday ever. He was promising himself that he wouldn't be awkward and he wouldn't embaress himself.

Then he did excatly that.

With no one to interrupted them and no one else to focus on, he suddenly notice Bez behavior more. He noticed that he regularly looked at him. Like he was staring. But why would he?

Of course Pecco was staring too but only in a way that the other didn't notice. Or at least he thought so.

"Youre staring" Bez had said over dinner. He had looked up from his food, a playful smile on his cheeks. "You're always staring. Do I have something on my face?" he asked.

His hand was moving over his face. Over his beard, the side of his face and at the end even over his neck. For a second Pecco froze, he watched the tattooed hand touch Bez own skin and his brain went into shortcut.

"Am i that ugly that you always stare at me?" he asked and Pecco felt his cheeks heat up. For a moment he didn't realize that there was not just a playful tone. There was a little bit of hesitation bordering on insecurity.

"No!" he replied, maybe by the way the other raised his eyebrows a little bit too fast and too intense. But he couldn't stand the thought that he didn't saw himself as anything but beautiful.

"I... I mean, come on... You're pretty. Pretty ugly." he said and despite it being an absolute bad joke, for which he felt incredible bad, Bez laughed along. It was his rich, honest laugh, where there was no holding back. No hesitation.

"Yeah? Well maybe I just need some of yours to make me a pretty boy?"

And that was the moment Pecco was sure he had died.

For a moment he couldn't help but imagine Bez naked infront of him. Sweaty. Moaning. Marked by him. Taken apart by him. Covered in his cum. Some of yours? He had no idea what taht actually meant but his brain had already made up it's mind.

With that thought he felt his pants getting significantly tighter. He was getting hard but just in that one second he didn't care that he sat opposite his best friend with a hard cock.

"Some of my - what?" he asked, swallowing drily. He didn't know if he was pushing or what he was even trying to push for. Marco looked him up and down for a few seconds that felt like hours. He bit his lips. Then grinned.

"Some if your hair products of course. I bet you have the really fancy stuff!" Of course. Pecco wanted to knock his head against a wall. What had he been thinking?

"Yeah. Of course. I can give them to you. Everything you want, princess"

The last word just slipped out but for a moment he thought he had seen a faint blush on his cheeks. He wanted to dive in the feeling that a simple nickname had gotten a reaction like this, but he knew it was just delusional thinking, so he didn't entertain the thought much more

The next days went almost the same. Bez made stupid jokes that made Pecco think wrong things. Pecco felt like he was stumbling around Marco like an idiot.

His newest high was when Bez fell asleep on the couch, with his head against Pecco's shoulder while watching a movie. He had sat there calmly, without moving, even watching part of the next movie, until Marco wake up.

But instead of just going along with it, and acting friendly, maybe teasing him a bit, he had just started at him.

But now it came to a head when Bez suddenly burst into his room with nothing but a towel around his waist after they had spent the day skiing.

His hair was still wet. His curls still not yet flat and instead more waivy but already detangled. Small drops were falling down his strands. They dropped to the floor or - as Pecco spotted while following one of them - ran over Bez gorgeous body.

He couldn't help but look him up and down. His chest was defined. His muscles were ever present even during the winter holiday. And his arms - He wanted to do nothing more but to stand up, take Bez biceps and press him down on it.

Feel the muscles, knowing Bez could fight him off and probably win but in this particular moment he wouldn't. He would give in, letting Pecco win. He would let him press him down against the bed on which the older man was currently sitting. He would allow him to do whatever he wanted to his body.

And fuck -

That was when he spotted the silver bars that pierced through his nipples. Whatever thought he had was gone.

He wanted to lean down, put them in his mouth and suck. He wondered if they would actually taste metallic if he'd take them in his mouth.

"Pecco?" With that he was back into reality "Sorry-" he hurried to say. "Sorry, I - What did you say?" "I said my curl cream is empty. You got some?" "I... Curl cream? Yes. Wait-"

He stood up, refusing to turn around while he was rummaging through his bag, looking for needed tube. He blushed when his finger brushes the tube of lube that happened to be excatly next to it.

A part of him told him to just grab that one, give it to Bez and told him to get ready. Just to see how he would react. He wanted him to blush or to smile greedily. He wanted him to sit down and do excatly taht.

But either he would get laughed at - which he wouldn't be able to handle - or he would get it smashed against his face.

And he really didn't want to risk their friendship. After all that was all he seemed to get. And he was grateful for that. He was willing to take anything he got, hoarding it like a dragon and never letting it go.

Plus he would have to explain why the hell he had taken lube with him. On a ski trip. With his best friend. And he really had no interest to do so.

So he grabbed the curl cream and turned around. Only to find Bez, sitting on his bed.

He was sure that was the moment he had died. Again. Because his definetly naked crush was currently sitting on his bed. He was leaning back, arms stabilizing him, his head leaning against the wall.

Pecco stared and blushed when he saw Marcos eyes opening and winking at him. He was about to open his eyes. Maybe to say something inappropriate or stupid. Something that would ruin the moment gotr Pecco so he decided to end it on his own.

"Here" The former champion said as he handed Bez the hair product. "Thank you very much, my savior" he replied and left Pecco who definitely didn't got a small high out of being called a savior. Or Bez savior in particular.

Pecco was still standing there, slightly shell shocked. It was only when he heard the hair dryer that he was able to move again. He wasn't proud of the fact that this was his feist reaction after that but he had hold back to much. He couldn't deny it himself any longer.

And he felt safe enough, so he grabbed the other tube out his luggage and sat down on the bed. Exactly where Bez had sat a few minutes before.

His hands went down to his pants to open them quickly and pull his already hardening cock out his underwear. There was a flicker of guilt for what he was about to do but the vision of Bez, with his hot, naked ass right infront of had been too good.

He poured some of the liquid on his hand and closes his eyes. He started pumping a few times. It wasn't really for his own satisfaction or enjoyment. It felt more like an internal need he just had to obey and please.

And that was squeezing his own hard, leaking cock. Wrapping his hand around himself and imagining his own body heat was the heat that was surely radiating in Marcos mouth. He imagined the lube being Marcos saliva and he moaned at that thought.

He quickly bit his lips and pulled a face. He had to be silence even if the sensation of his hard cock, the heat that was pulling inside of him and the desperation in his body was too much for him.

He took a deep breath and run back his memories. Not just Bez a few minutes ago, but over the course of years. How beautiful he had looked on the top step of the podium. How gorgeous he had looked when they went to the beach together, sunbathing and playing volleyball. His smile when he ran to him to tell him he had signed a motogp contract.

He remembered him shirtless, sweet, sweaty, moaning after a race. He remembered him covered in champaign and wine and whatever else his team had poured over him which he had greedily taken.

Everything. He felt like he remembered everything. Every little smile and every little moment.

Then he came, right across his own hand. The hot liquid burning against his skin, a small reminder that his fantasy was nothing more than a vision his brain had come up to create satisfaction.

He refused to lose the afterglow so soon. So he just closed his eyes, trying to regain a normal breathing pattern. Soon he heard the sound of the hair dryer die down so he quickly got up to wash his hands in the kitchen.

He sighed. "What the hell were you thinking, Bagnaia?" he asked himself. Because if he thought he had already been awkward now was even worst.

It was one think to jerk off thinking about Bez when he was in his own home, where no one was around to judge him. But jerking off to his best friend while said best friend was just down the corridor was totally different.

He couldn't manage to look at Bez when he came back - this time dressed - to return the cream. He was grinning happily, his hands puffing up his hair.

"Looks good, doesn't it? You really got the good stuff" "Yeah, thanks" he said, while grinning awkwardly. He felt a mixture of shame at his own thoughts and actions. But he couldn't deny that he was happy that he could provide something good for Bez.

He felt Marcos gaze against him. He heard the fabric ruffles as he crossed his arms infront his chest, still looking at him. He didn't dare to return the glance. Not when he had just come for those eyes.

"You okay?" Bez asked, his voice daring and strong. Like he was saying 'I know you're not so don't lie to me'. Pecco swallowed and nodded. "Yeah. Totally." he even forced a smile "Everything fine. Why wouldn't it be?" "I don't know... You've been acting weird. Anyway..."

He turned around, shrugging and left.

Pecco used that moment to burry his head in his hands. He was fucked. He wasn't getting fucked. He was just fucked.

But at least he assumed that there was no way this whole situation could get anymore weird and awkward. That was until the evening came around.

He was already getting ready for bed when suddenly the lights went out and he was left in the dark. The whole room just went dark without any warning.

He blinked in confusion, trying to get used to the darkness.

He grabbed his phone - no signal - but the flashlight was still working. He illuminate the room with a reliefed smile. Just when he was about to look for a solution, he heard a loud scream.

"PECCO!" He knew the voice and he knew he hated the fact that he was screaming. "PECCO! FUUUCK! Shit. Shit. Shit. AH-!"

The combination of curses spiked his panic. He quickly ran to the door and pushed it open. He ran through the corridor where he heard Bez moving and still silently cursing.

"Marco? I'm here!" he yelled back, worried that he had fallen or hurt himself in the dark. Because as he saw, the whole house was dark.

He found him easily and quickly lowered the flashlight after accidentally holding it right in Bez face. He blinked and closed his eyes but the shiver of his whole body was evident that something wasn't right. And looking at the thick hoodie and socks he was wearing, it couldn't be the cold.

"Marco, is everything okay?" "I... The... The light has gone out." he replied, his voice slightly less confident than usual. There was a faint sound to it, he couldn't fully identify. His words were shacky.

"Yeah... I don't know. I guess the power went out." he took a look at the electric watch that was connected to the oven but it was dark. "Yep. We just have to wait till it returns. I'm sure it's normal." "Can't we call someone?"

Pecco saw how Bez started to move his hands. They were grabbing into his own hoodie, while his gaze was fixed on Pecco. He moved slightly closer. "I mean - There has to be a way, right?"

And now Pecco could identify the underlying sound. It was fear. He looked at his friend for a moment in confusion. He watches him shiver and move from one feet to the other.

"We're not getting a signal. And there's too much snow to drive. But it's just one night. We-" "But it's cold and... Forget it." this time it was him avoiding his gaze. It worried the older man.

"Hey, it's okay. What's going on? Marco, I'm your friend, you can trust me." he tried, hoping his voice was calm enough to actually have an effect.

He watched Marco seemingly contamplaiting, thinking it over, maybe considering his words. Then he replied with a quiet and stubborn sounding. "I don't like the darkness. Okay? I'm afraid of the dark. There. That's it. You can make fun of me if you want to"

He had this stubborn, defensive sound that he couldn't help but want to get rid of.

"What? No." he quickly said and couldn't help but pull him in a hug. "No I'm not gonna make fun of you for that. Everyone has a stupid fear over something. We... We'll figure it out, okay? Just... I think it's best if we just go to bed, alright? And in the morning everything will be easier."

Bez was still cuddle against him, nodding slightly. "But... I... I had my window open." he confessed. "And?" "My room is as cold as outside. I was... I turned the heating back on but without the power that won't work either."

And now he knew what he meant. Bez couldn't stay in a room that had -9° or something like that.

"Okay. Fuck it." Pecco decided. He didn't really think about his words. Instead he just spoke because he knew he wouldn't come up with another idea.

"We're gonna have a sleepover. Like when we were kids, okay? You're sleeping in my bed." "I... Are you sure?" "Ye-Yeah" he said, trying to push the horny thoughts away that Marco would actually be spending the night in his bed. At his side.

He managed to somehow keep his thoughts clean until it was actually time to climb in bed with his best friend. 'just like when we were kids' he thought to himself.

But back then he didn't even know that gay sex was even an option. He didn't know he could feel like this for Bez. He just pushed his ideas away, covering them as a stupid idea.

But now -

And back then Cele, Luca, Migno, Bulega, Franky - they had all been there. They had been a cuddle pile. There hadn't been anything even remotely sexually about it, even if you'd tried.

But now -

"If you don't want to, I can-" Bez started and was about to sit up again when Pecco quickly laid down next to him. He just slid under the covers because worst than being worried about how to act was just Marco leaving.

The first few seconds were awkward. He felt tense and unsure. Until he felt Bez move more towards him. He felt his hands against his frame, slightly pulling him more towards him.

"You know what?" he whispered. "This is actually pretty nice"

Pecco felt Bez head against his side and he couldn't help but extend his arm to give him some more physical contact. He tried to tell himself that this was just to give Bez more comfort.

He knew very well that Bez love language was touch and it would call him. Not to mention that it was a way to keep each other warm. But in reality he just wanted to use every chance he got to touch Marco and feel him close.

He scooped him up in his arms, holding him close. He knew they only did this to calm down, for this one night but he wished it was more. He wanted to feel him pressed against his body again and again.

He didn't want to lose to feeling of having him on top of him and sleeping, like this. He felt his regular breathing. He was sure he was asleep by now. All while he refused to fall asleep now. He didn't want to waste a second of feeling Bez close to him with sleep.

"I wish this wasn't a one time thing" he whispered into the darkness. "I wish we could spent every night and every day like this. I would hodk you close, protect you and treat you right. I promise you, I would do anything for you." "Mm... A kiss would be enough for now" he heard and froze in shock.

Bez moved and opened his eyes. He smiled at him.

"Bez, you're... You're awake?" he asked. "Yeah... So? Am I getting that kiss or not? I'm asking very nicely for it, Pecco.... Please" "You - you want -" "Yes I want a kiss. From you. Now. Preferably."

He blinked a few times. He wanted to make sure this wasn't a dream. But even if it was, he decided not to care. Instead he just used his chance to lean down and kissed him.

It was soft kiss. They kissed just for the sake of kissing. They kissed because they wanted to kiss. And they didn't want to stop.

They were locked away, locked inside this little house, somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Locked in the darkness and locked inside each other.

Both knew they were too tired and exhausted to actually do anything else so when they separated again to take a breath, Bez used the chance to kiss him again.

Just a quick peak on the lips and he grinned.

"Thank you... Hopefully I can stop teasing you now. I love you by the way." he whispered before he closed his eyes again, his head now laying completly on Pecco.

"I love you too" Pecco replied and planted another kiss on Marcos forehead. For a moment he was wondering if the other would remember their moment. But when he woke up from Marco softly nipping and kissing the skin at his throat, he was sure he did remember.

[jackiestailor]

francis forever. (ellie x reader)

living in a never ending memory.

fear not, I haven’t dropped this fic (yet🌚); booty cheeks ending again 🙏, mentions of suicide so fair warning, longer chapter this time ☠️

Winter time being your favorite season didn't come with the joy of snow getting everywhere in your clothes—specifically your shoes or sometimes when it would fall into the gap your hoodie and get all up in your bra. Your skin felt as if it would freeze and chip right off. Making a stop to make snow angels in the middle of your patrol on this hell of a snowy day was seemingly a terrible idea; clumps of snow found its way into your beanie and even into your pants. Gloves couldn't save your hands from shivering; the precipitation got into the crevices of those, as well, leaving your entire body shivering and trembling all over. You could and couldn't blame yourself; making snow angels is a must for you every time it snows out in Jackson.

Ellie offered to switch gloves with you, insisting on it, in fact. You had to decline since you and her had different glove sizes, as well as the fact you didn't want her hands to be cold. You'd put up with your own near frost bitten fingers but god forbid Ellie willfully get it herself.

By the time you and Ellie actually got to creek trails, you'd stopped to take off your gloves and see how bad your fingers were. The impact of the snow rubbing against your skin left an angry discoloration on your knuckles and your fingertips, making you let out a sharp sigh as you tried to swat the snow out of your gloves. You brought your hands up to your face and blew hot air onto them, then rubbed them together to keep the heat going against your skin.

"Don't you always keep an extra pair of mittens in your pack?" Ellie questioned as she rode up next to you, watching you examine your hands. You spared her a glance and bit your tongue in irritation that you did not in fact have an extra pair of mittens in your bag. You sighed as you swatted your gloves again, watching remnants of snow flying out of them.

"Not today," you reluctantly stick your hands back into your gloves. Fortunately all the snow was gone, but they were still unbelievably cold and wet, making you hiss quietly. "I'll have to check for a spare when we get to the lookout."

"Where even is the lookout?" Ellie questioned. Her face scrunched up as the temperature dropped a few degrees, her shoulders squaring. She watched you weakly grip Orion's reigns, the small fog exhaling from your lips, the constipated look coming back on your face. A cheeky grin made its way onto her own face, a quiet chuckle waving over to your ears, earning a side eye from you.

"Hey- my suffering from my damn near frost bitten fingers isn't funny, you know."

"It's not that," Ellie rasped out another drawn out chuckle. You rolled your eyes halfheartedly and gently swatted the reigns, sending Orion trotting down the small river leading to another snow forest. Ellie and her own horse, Shimmer, followed after you, cracking the ice collecting over the stream of water and crunching the snow. "You're looking constipated again. That's like your default look."

"It's not!" You turn your head and look at Ellie with a frown. A pout shows on your face unintentionally, making Ellie snort out a laugh, thus earning another eye roll from you. You turn your head back around to face forward, guiding Orion to turn up towards a hill, gripping the reigns tighter.

"Do you think Dina and Jesse are done for real this time?" You call out. The fact that Jesse and Dina were on and off all the time gave you the impression that they weren't really done yet. Jesse acts all nonchalant, but something in you tells you that he cares about it more than he dares to show. You weren't sure about Dina. You were sure she had her eyes on Ellie last night while you and her were dancing. The ugly taste of jealousy on your tongue made you scowl; thank god Ellie couldn't see it, you didn't need another thing for her to tease you about.

"Jesse says they're done for real. I give them a week and some change until they're back together." Ellie was never one for gossip. It wasn't her thing—talking about other people behind their backs like that. But when you were around, and when she got the impression you were in the mood for gossip...well, she just might dye her hair black for the occasion to go along with her gossiping.

"I think Dina's got her eye on somebody," you nibble on your lip after you let that little piece of information slide. The thought appeared in your mind's eye like counting sheep that you gave away the fact you were a little bit jealous that Dina most likely had the hots for Ellie. You weren't even sure why; you and Ellie weren't...dating...so you felt embarrassed that you were feeling jealous for essentially no reason.

"Oh yeah? You think she's into someone already?" Ellie quips, a smirk making its way onto her face. You practically feel her lopsided smile radiating from behind you, and you roll your eyes. You click your tongue at the humor you feel that she finds in your quiet jealousy that watches from outside the glass. You're quick to change the subject in fear that this would lead to you confessing your jealousy and further giving Ellie something to tease you for.

"You ever think about Cat?" Your sudden change of subject has Ellie's smirk falling. Her eyebrows furrow slightly, a sigh escaping her that makes your own frown turn into a small smile. You internally laugh at her—just to get back at the underlying humor that she previously found at your declaration about Dina.

"Not really...I mean, there's not a lot to think about," Ellie answers with a shrug. She frowns slightly. "Why are you just now bringing up Cat?"

"I dunno. You never really talked to me or Jesse about her," you nibble on your lip as you try and picture Ellie with Cat again. Your right eyebrow curls as your lips lift into a look of disgust, the ugly taste of jealousy on your tongue again like expired coffee. You try and swallow it down in hopes your stomach acid will dissolve the excess hateful saliva previously collecting in your mouth. It doesn't leave.

"Okay...then what do you think about Cat?" An accusatory tone took over Ellie's voice as she lifted an eyebrow. You sighed, your shoulders slumping. The weight of the question weighed a lot heavier on your shoulders than it did when rolling off of Ellie's tongue. For a half second you wondered if there was a wrong answer, then for the other half second you thought you were overthinking it. It's just Ellie, nothing she says really requires much overthinking. But it's Ellie.

"I never really cared for her," you stiffen up, squaring your shoulders and straightening your posture. You swallowed a lump in your throat almost painfully. You adjust your beanie over your head. A cold sweat was gathering on your eyebrows, which you wiped away with your glove. "I mean, she was nice. She was a very good artist...that tattoo of yours looks...okay. But I just don't care for her."

"You're so mature," Ellie rolls her eyes. A blank look rests on her face as she brings a hand up to scratch her bottom eyelid with her finger; an idea crossed her mind like a lightbulb turning on over her head. "And what about you and your past relationships, Y/n? Why is this all about me?"

"I've never had one," your cheeks heat up. You thought you looked and sounded like a total loser—never having a relationship in your entire life before—in front of Ellie after already having a girlfriend once. Soon your entire head feels hot—your neck practically boils and your scalp could steam if it wasn't freezing out here. The truth was you were "busy" with doing your job and tending to about thirty people a day and being eaten up inside by your social anxiety and the constant sadness hanging over your head because of that—it was just an endless cycle.

"You've never had a relationship before?" Ellie asking it like it made you an outlier made your heart clench. You heard the disbelief in her voice which to you was a bit strange. Ellie would've thought you'd at least had one or two, but none? Never? Zilch? Bupkis? Outrageous! She thought everyone in Jackson would be fawning over you at one point or another; thinking back to last night at the Winter Dance, she thought wrong when she remembered you approaching her alone. That nervous smile on your face and the confused shuffling of your hands around her neck the whole dance.

"Nope!" You let out a fake chirp to hide that you were nearly dying inside from embarrassment. The thought immediately came to your head that Ellie now saw you as a hermit homebody weirdo who had absolutely no game. Which was a fact. "I never really thought about having one."

Ellie had a gut feeling that you were lying right through your teeth about that. That chirpy voice didn't fool her.

"Then...what in the world was that kiss last night?"

You groan as Ellie brings up the kiss. You hoped with every bone in your body that this ass-freezing weather that she would forget about it and focus on getting her teeth to stop chattering. You mentally cursed for putting yourself in that situation starting with that damn kiss. You should've thought ahead before going in completely blind and kissing her; now she's talking to you about it, alone, with no Jesse to save you or Seth to call you slurs again.

"...curiosity," you finally manage to squeak out. A raspy chuckle makes its way to your ears, which were fuming from the tips from embarrassment.

"Yeah, right. Curiosity," Ellie giggles. "Man, you're funny."

"I'm serious," you counter. You pull the reigns gently to turn Orion in to a small town, trotting towards a building with an open garage. You pause for a moment as Orion gets into his place and let out a deep sigh, closing your eyes. Your breath comes out as a small fog from the condensation of the cool air. This was probably the most you've ever talked casually with someone in over a month; the exceeding capacity of your social time was overwhelming.

You heard Ellie say something to Shimmer along the lines of don't get into any trouble, listening to her hop off and land on the asphalted floor. You opened your eyes and let out a shaky breath before lifting your leg over Orion's head and hopped off. You turned to the satchel on his side and flipped it open, pulling out a small jar of pills, needles and a thing of thread; you turned your backpack and let it rest on your chest, zipping it open and stuffing them all in the front pocket with the bigot sandwiches you stuffed in there and a walkman you always kept in there for when you had the time to listen to music.

"I wanna show you something, Ellie," you called out after closing your backpack and throwing it back over your shoulders. Ellie whipped her head around and looked at you, watching you walk over to a room. "It's a really nice view. It also helps with my anxiety."

The building was almost falling apart. The wall was torn open on the side, the metal bars sticking out of it and all. Another view was seen from the hole in the wall, which showcased the forestry covering a chunk of Jackson. Snow covered the ground all over, piling up towards the gap where the majority of it gathered and let to the top of a hill outside. The room you were strolling over to was seemingly a storage room; a shelf stood against the wall congruent to where the door would've been (after evidently getting blown off its hinges). A small, vertical gap in the wall adjacent to the entrance allowed you and Ellie both to what you were talking about, a veranda with a view of another side of the forest that you and her previously trekked through.

"This really is nice," Ellie says it like she didn't initially believe you. She watches you lean against the ledge of the veranda on your forearms.

"Would I ever lie to you?" You turned your head and looked at Ellie with a soft grin. Your eyes were noticeably smaller looking, your eyelids were hooded, the smile on your face looked lazy. In her own eyes, you looked a little...high.

"Indeed you would," Ellie lets out a chuckle as she waltzes over to a spot next to you, leaning against the ledge. Your heart suddenly raced in your chest; it wasn't like how it normally would be. Most cases it'd be racing so fast it'd make you lightheaded or your chest would start to ache. Unlike most of the near heart attacks you've had, the racing this time was pleasant. It wasn't a nuisance or a hindrance to whatever you were doing; maybe because you weren't really doing anything at all. But it felt nice to experience a drumming heart that didn't work the tissue of your heart until you were weak.

"Jerk," you laugh softly, your elbow gently nudging Ellie's arm playfully. "I don't lie. Lying is a sin."

"I didn't know you had beliefs," Ellie teased.

"I don't," you shrug. "A man who judges your every move and sentences you to eternal suffering for simply not believing in him is not a man worth my worship."

"That's deep," Ellie looks down at the view of the trees and their snow covered leaves. An ice-caked pond could be seen in the distance, a mountain, some birds flying. She could definitely see how this was calming.

"There are certain philosophies I think, though," you add, huffing softly as you link your hand with your other, your leg bouncing lightly. "This world is so messed up and cruel that only a man could've created it."

"Preach," Ellie chuckled at the irony in her dumb joke. "I mean— yeah, I agree."

"I know what you meant, Ellie," you shake your head playfully as another smile graces your face after falling previously. "I prefer facts over belief."

"I wouldn't really expect anything else from a doctor," Ellie comments. And then her face falls when she gets the idea that she said something wrong, immediately turning her head to look at you. You don't mirror her in enough time for her to process that she's perfectly fine.

"I mean— not like that, obviously. Some doctors can be Christian or religious, too— it's just, you're not like them. I mean—! Fuck..."

"It's okay," you rest a hand on Ellie's shoulder. Her entire face heats up and turns a shade of red from embarrassment; now she has a glimpse of what it must be like for you every single day. She sighed deeply and looked away at the scenery again, her shoulders slumping slightly. "I don't care."

"I just didn't want you to think that I was implying something different, you know?" Ellie let out another breath, one that she didn't know she was holding.

"I already said it's alright," your hand reassuringly pats Ellie's shoulder. A warmth creeps up in her body from hearing your tender voice and feeling your gentle hand. She looks at you and a soft blush dusts her cheeks a pretty shade of pink.

"Where do we sign in?" Ellie changes the subject. You figure it's because of embarrassment; a wider grin breaks out as you chuckle quietly. You push yourself off the veranda and walk backwards towards the gap in the wall, tilting your head towards it.

"C'mon," you turn to face the wall and squeeze into it, sliding past the gap and into the storage room again. Ellie followed after you a moment later; the tips of her ears were bright red, and a pout was molded onto her face. She shuffled through the room and back out towards the bigger hole in the wall, looking down and watching you push a pallet out of the way.

"Didn't you used to do this route with someone?" Ellie inquired as she reached down and helped you with the pallet.

"Dina and Eugene when I was still in group patrols," you let out a huff as you crouch down. The cold of the snow, even with boots on, made your toes curl as you and Ellie crawled through the small crawl space that led to some tiny hallway. The wall next to you had a rope hanging off the edge of it which was tied to a pole against the wall over it.

"Eugene, right! Aw, he was funny."

"Yeah, he was," you chuckled as you stood up straight after getting out of the crawl space. You dusted off your pants after getting some snow on them from crawling, then walked over to the rope and gripped it tightly. "You know that radio I built and left in the Tipsy Bison?"

"What about it?" Ellie lifted a brow, grimacing slightly at the mention of the Tipsy Bison.

"Eugene helped me build that. Dina, too."

"Oh, man! I should've known it was you who left it there. That music from last night was kinda bittersweet," Ellie chuckled heartily. She watched you hop up and climb the wall with the rope, eventually pushing yourself up and over the edge.

"Quick question," you narrow your eyes as you stand off to the side and look down, watching Ellie start climbing up the rope.

"Yeah?"

"Are you wearing the same clothes from last night?" You narrow your eyes playfully and smile. You knew very well that Ellie was, in fact, wearing the same clothes from last night. You didn't bother to say anything until now; you thought she looked cute.

"Hey! It's not like we're at a fashion show or some shit," Ellie grunts as she pushes herself over the edge and climbs onto the floor with you. She looks at you with a halfhearted frown. "We're here to kill infected, not to look snazzy."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm not complaining, Ellie. Sign us in," you laugh softly as you push open the door, walking in and strolling around the room. You waltz over towards the window near the sign in book and squint your eyes look out at the town in the distance.

"What even is this place?" Ellie questions as she looks around and finds another room; she lifts another eyebrow in curiosity and opens that door, finding what she thinks is a lounge room. Two small couches and coffee table, a nightstand, a desk, and a tiny bookshelf.

"It used to be a radio tower, I think," you call out. You turn your backpack around so it rests on your front again, zipping it open and pulling out your binoculars. You hold them up to your eyes and look out the window again.

Ellie walks over to the nightstand in the lounge room and picks up the bong sitting on it, chuckling. She shakes her head as she looks around it. "I'm gonna assume this bong was Eugene's."

"I don't know, actually," You pull away from the binoculars and turn your head to look at the wall that Ellie's standing behind. Your gaze switches to her as she walks out from the corner and over to the sign in book.

"Do you have any on you? Y'know, weed? I heard it can be…medicinal.”

"Literally all of Wyoming is covered in snow," you turn around to look at Ellie as she signs you both in. You let the arm holding your binoculars fall to your side as you give her an incredulous look. "You really think I have weed on me?"

"There's Community Greenhouses in Jackson, you know," Ellie retorts as she sets the pencil down and closes the book.

"I'm not using those," you shake your head softly as you turn back around to face the window. "Last time I used them to grow Marijuana, someone stole it. It was only seeds!"

"Like, actually pulled them out of the soil? Who would steal hemp seeds?" Ellie narrowed her eyes as she strolled over and stood next to you and looked out the window. You held the binoculars to your eyes again for a moment before passing them to her.

"People will steal literally anything for any reason. Either way, the only stuff I have are painkillers and antidepressants. But those are mine."

"Antidepressants?" Ellie turns to look at you as she takes your binoculars. She holds them to her face and looks out the window. "What for?"

"Ellie," you nudge her shoulder gently with your elbow.

"Right, sorry," Ellie grins. After a moment of silence (and Ellie looking around aimlessly with your binoculars, which were freakishly good), she cleared her throat. The quietness between you two was making her mouth go dry. Her feet started shuffling and her leg started bouncing slightly.

"What's wrong?" Ellie asks as she pulls the binoculars down. She looks at you, watching you stare out the window and looking at the scenery. You turn your head and glance at her, your expression lifting after previously falling and looking like you were constipated again.

"What?" You lift a confused eyebrow.

"The antidepressants. Something's obviously wrong," Ellie straightens her posture and squares her shoulders again immediately afterwards. "I don't mean to pry...but I won't be able to stop thinking about it if I don't at least ask."

"It's fine," you huff. Your heart suddenly sank in your chest as you bit your tongue. Talking about your anxiety and depression was never really your thing. Every time someone would ask you if you were okay, you'd practically shut down. You just couldn't find it in yourself to say what the other person probably wanted to hear. You wondered if it was because talking about mental health was an awkward thing for literally everyone, or because the words you would put it in would result in you being put in the Talk Circle. (a small group in Jackson where a handful of people sit in a circle and talk about their feelings; you thought it would just make your embarrassment rise to an all time high)

"It's...for social anxiety...and depression, obviously," you mutter. The words you're supposed to say are clogged up in your throat as your breath hitches and comes out as a small fog. "I've been getting them from Maria since I first came to Jackson a few years ago."

Ellie started to feel bad for asking. She nibbled on her bottom lip as she listened to you. Knowing you had social anxiety was one thing, but actually hearing about it and the depression that comes with it makes her feel weird on the inside. Like the feeling you were talking about found its way into Ellie like a virus.

"I'm not gonna ask why," she mumbled, scratching her nose with her finger nervously. "I don't wanna intrude, y'know?"

"It's just you, Ellie," you glance at her. "It's not like I'm shouting it out to the whole world."

"Yeah, but still," Ellie shrugged in an attempt to make herself look as normal as possible and to not look worried.

"But still, I know you're curious," you nudge Ellie's shoulder with your elbow, giving her a small smile. "I won't tell you until you ask."

"Why not?"

"It's kinda rude to just dump all that onto someone without knowing it's okay."

"Well— I mean, you know I don't care. About you trauma dumping or whatever. It's not gonna scare me off."

"Oh, I don't care if it scares you off," you shake your head playfully. You turn around and lean the side of your body against the window and cross your arms, nibbling on the bottom of your lip. "It's just what you'll see me as when I'm done."

"Wouldn't scaring me off be worse?" Ellie questions. She watches you nibble on the flesh of your lip, taking note of the way your leg bounces slightly. When you part your lips to let out an exhale she sees the slight carnage made on your flesh; her heart sinks in her chest. She shakes her head and ignores her own question. "Whatever. It can't be that bad. If you killed someone, then I hate to break it to you but I think everyone who goes on patrol has killed at least a few people."

"It's actually not that," you sigh as you bring your hand up to adjust your beanie over your head and scratch your hairline. "It's related to that, though."

"Did you watch someone die?" Ellie guesses. You glare at her for a second, giving her the impression to just shut up and let you finish.

"I did. But...I've never killed anyone before."

Ellie furrows her eyebrows, her nose scrunching up as she gives you an incredulous frown. You've never killed anyone? Not one person? Not even in self defense? Everyone she knows has killed at least one person. You've made it this far...travelled all around the country to get to Jackson...and you never got into a situation where you were required to kill? Confusion was an understatement, though she guesses that with so much land you crossed you might've just gotten lucky and made it to Wyoming in peace. Were you a pacifist? You couldn't be; you're as trigger happy to kill infected as the next person in Jackson.

"Never? Like, not one person?"

"Nope. I save lives, I don't take them," you inhale sharply. Your hand clutches the medical badge on your right sleeve, your head turns to look out the window and at the town in the distance. You could feel Ellie's confusion and practically hear the questions swarming in her head. You looked back at her with a knowing expression. "Ask away."

Ellie let out a dramatic huff as she fixed her gloves over her hands to make the atmosphere between you two less awkward; to no avail.

"I know not everyone is accustomed to just...killing people. But how?"

"I traveled with my dad the whole journey here," you tilted your head toward whatever direction you thought Jackson would be in. "He did all the fighting and the killing. Wouldn't let me hold a gun until I was sixteen."

"Same with Joel," Ellie snickered quietly. Her eyes drifted back up to you just in time to catch the warm look on your face; a rare sighting considering you're always looking so anxious or nervous or some sort of negative emotion. "What's your dad like?"

"He was...awesome," you smiled fondly for a moment. "He taught me everything I know about being a medic. And some other things, like mathematics and science and reading. He basically home schooled me while traveling."

"He sounds like a nerd," Ellie quips as she chuckles under her breath. She looks out the window for one moment, admiring how pretty the view looks outside before looking back and watching a small tear roll down your cheek. She frowns instantly. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you blatantly lie, your hand rubbing your eye and drying it up as you sniffle quietly. You glance at Ellie and give her a shaky smile as if to tell her that you're alright. She didn't believe you.

"It's obviously not nothing if you're crying," a thought occurs to Ellie. She narrows her eyes and pushes herself off the window, standing a little closer to you. The thought keeps circling in her head that your crying involves your dad. She knows her train of thought is intruding yours, but the curiosity and the guilt are eating away at her heart as she watches your eyes begin to gloss over. The red tint taking over the corners of your eyes irritates her; the tears she wishes she could wipe away never dare to roll from your eyelids, as if to taunt her and keep her on her toes.

You look away and let out a shaky exhale, your hands trembling as you reinforce your arms and stick your hands under them to warm them up. "He...he died. To infected."

Ellie felt her heart squeeze in her chest. Infected or hunters or other violent forms of humans were the most common causes of death. Along with disease and famine and dehydration and insanity. She felt the need to at least pat your shoulder to let you know that she's there if you need her to be; the urge dies as quickly as it sprouted when you add on.

"He killed himself by walking into a hoard of infected," you move your hand to clutch the medical badge, clenching your jaw and fighting back tears.

Your heart began racing in your chest similarly to last night; another cold sweat was gathering on your forehead and eyebrows that you didn't bother to wipe off. Your breath was coming shorter and shorter. Your body felt dizzy like you were stuck in a tornado. Panic took over you. Your lungs were weak and begging for air that the oxygen in the atmosphere wouldn't let you have. You were sure you had to get out, to get a breath of fresh air or you'd pass out right in front of Ellie. The image of passing out in front of her and making you look stupid made your heart race even faster. The panic was practically blocking your eardrums, you couldn't hear Ellie's voice trying to calm you down. The touch on your shoulder felt numb. The image of your father walking himself into that hoard, the infected feasting on his flesh and ripping apart his limbs and tearing his intestines out of his body played in your head like a movie your amygdala wouldn't let you forget. You could still hear the screams in your head and bouncing off the walls of your skull, ringing in your ears. The blood. The infected. The guts. The screams. The blood. The infected. The guts. The screams. The blood. The infected. The guts. The screams. The blood—

"—Hey! Hey, it's alright," Ellie caught you just as you were about to collapse. The slightest change in altitude made you feel lightheaded. You caught your breath, panting sharply. Your hands rested on Ellie's arms as she held you upright, your body against the wall for support. Your eyes focused on her face; your breath was still shaky. Your lips were quivering as tears glazed over your eyes again. You felt as if you got punched in the gut and your stomach acid was about to come up.

Your eyes widened as you pushed Ellie out of the way and darted for the trash can in the corner of the room, vomiting and crying into the trash bag. Your salty tears were dropping onto the pile of throw up on the bottom. The smell filled your nose and made you cough up another small wad of vomit before you turned your head away. Ellie's grip on your hair loosened; you didn't even realize she was holding it back until you felt a tug on your scalp from whipping your head around to look for her.

"You alright?" Ellie asked awkwardly, squaring her shoulders. She crouched down next to you and let your hair go, her hand resting comfortingly on your back and rubbing it gently.

You huffed softly as your eyes trained on her again. A calmness washed over you; your eyelids were heavy, your body felt exhausted. Your brain felt like oatmeal. The part of your brain that was still intelligible was telling you that you were too much, that you were a burden for Ellie and taking her with you to creek trails was a mistake. The glint in her eyes brought a sense of relief to you, making your body feel limp as you leaned your head against her shoulder and letting out a tired sigh.

"Peachy," you huff, making Ellie chuckle softly as her hand softly pats your hair for a moment, letting you rest on her and rely on her for comfort.

"You wanna rest for a little bit or do you think you can keep going?" She murmurs quietly into your ear. Ellie's hoarse voice was something your heart never got tired of; the low tone and the goldilocks-raspiness of it always made your chest feel warm and fuzzy.

"I'll be fine."

"Bullshit. I mean, we can go back to Jackson if you need to. You can trade with someone else and you can rest up."

"I said I'll be fine, Ellie," you pull yourself up from Ellie's shoulder. You scratch your neck nervously. You somehow find it in your spine to stand up, fixing your backpack over your shoulders and reaching into the side pocket. You pulled out a small thing of gum, opening it and popping a piece in your mouth. Occasionally you’d find little accessories on patrols around Jackson that weren’t expired like that gum you pulled out and you’d keep it for later use.

“Let’s keep going on patrol.”

“At least rinse your mouth out…that ain’t gonna do shit when there’s still barf caked around your mouth.”

Your cheeks heated up immediately as you looked down in embarrassment. You brought your glove up to wipe the vomit off your face with a cringe as you let your embarrassment take over you for a moment. You mentally noted to yourself not to touch your face again with that glove.

[firstservepercentage]

USO kit tier list based on my bias

(just the players I normally watch)

WTA:

Tier A+

coco - NB's design and colour choice always makes so much sense. the back side design and the width of the skirt's folds are supre cute 🥺 they actually use their brain when designing kits!

naomi - without the jacket its maybe just so so, but an absolute banger with the jacket on. should be remembered as a historically significant kit for tennis fashion. and the headphones ohmygawd 🥺🥺🥺 who ever think this kit is not cute can fight me

Tier A

maria - whenever she gets a tank top kit she serves hard. nice colour choice and skirt design by addidas (cant believe im saying that) so sad it only existed for 1 set 😭

marta - wilson just going with the 1 dress design that worked well in every slam and its still working well. the skirt's texure looked so nice in the wind

Tier B

dasha & karo - a bit boring but suits their vibes well

qinwen - same. would like some brighter colours but was fine

katie & bibi - the actual best nike WTA kit. lilac looks cute especially under sunlight, but the design is a bit too boring for me

Tier C

elena - colour is cute, she looks like a barbie in pink, but 0 design and 0 sense in the patterning choice. looks like some swim suit my mom would buy me when I was 10

aryna (nigh match version)- how dare they call that a custom kit i can do the same design in 10 mins

Iga - bisexual flag colour but a low saturation version. also points taken off for their kits starting to look like wet tissue 20 mins into a match

Tier D

Mirra & Paula - hate the colour hate the design. nike how dare you put that ugly ass kit on them die and rot in hell

jasmine - (a) its the same north american hard court swing kit asics making 0 effort as usual (b) i do not understand that colour choice like why dull reddish purple with bright orange. what made you think of that

ATP:

Tier A+

daniil- nice colours, nice jacket, nice little design around the chest part, nice shoes. wth lacoste you can actually design???????

Tier A

Adidas people - contrary to their RG series the purple-ish blue the used this time works very well with black & white and minimalist design

Carlos - black sleeveless will never not look nice on him but its still a bit boring. would love to have a bit more special texture, with that it will def be A+

Francis - the only person that got the good nike kit (i.e. the lilac kit) in ATP if im not mistaken

Tier B

lorenzo (musetti) i like guys who wear barbie pink and look proud wearing it

matteo - not super interesting design but colour is cute. also he looks nice in polo shirts

Grigor - standard lacoste design with reasonable colour choice

Tier B-

Jannik- the kit was okay and looked a bit better than i expected. im just still a angry about his 1st set

casper - its actually okay but he kind of looked exactly the same as his opponent so i really had a hard time watching 😭

Tier C

novak - i dont understand the design why so many squares and rectangles sir can you explain. it just makes him look more like a tennis robot with implanted AI

holger (the purple kit) - should have just taken the barbie pink one

ben - same with iga. seriously i would like to know how much ON has paid them to wear those wet tissue kits

Taylor - it looks fine but 0 design, just went for the safest choice

Tier D

Jack - (a) i do not understand the back side design (b) nike how did you make the T shirt look oversized for a 193cm tall and rather muscular athlete wtf

Alex - is that pattern choice meant to make his opponent dizzy by looking at him or something

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV S2 Ep8 Musings - Pyromaniac Du Lac 🔥 (Spoilers)

NGL, as much as I love this finale, I'm disappointed. I wanted to see way more violence.

That's the thing about necromancy--be careful who/what you wake up!

"FATHER! THE SLEEPER HAS AWAKENED!"

There he goes.

Was that NECESSARY, smashing that old man into the window like that!?

You better ACT, JACOB, with your Arya Stark hit list!

I'm so sorry I laughed at his mental illness, but MEOW!? Omg he's cracked. XD

So they gave him a baby scythe/machete--I wanted Sam's scythe. :( But it's cool how Louis broke his sickle screaming at Armand, and HAD to switch to the machete.

Not Louis talking to his victims, who help him plot the murders, LOL. He can't concentrate with all that French jibber-jabber! He's got a mass murder to plot! Yeah, he'll bring your truck back in mint condition! LOLOLOL.

Yeah, STFU corpse!

IKR, STFU Armand! Ain't nobody thinking about YOU! (But actually, Louis WAS thinking about him, and warned him to stay away, sooo.... :\)

The whole Sam reveal later was SO good, I love this show!

(Not Louis shading Hans' ugly costume. XD) And Tuan WANTS to die? Whaaaat?

LFG

This jazzy film noir crime boss heist music is an interesting choice.

HIS EYES DILATING.

Louis went full-blown Carrie. 😈

I CANNOT BELIEVE Y'ALL OFF-SCREENED THE SLAUGHTER, AMC. 😩

You showed Lestat dragging Louis by his effing JAWBONE, and punching a HOLE thru a PRIEST, but can't show us Louis cutting a red streak thru that stupid theatre!? Wtf!?

My Humanities arse sucks at math, but my bff's in STEM and immediately caught that the math wasn't mathin here.

Yeah, eff that flute guy!

(Estelle had me dying.) Interesting tea though--I wonder who's in the London coven?....

Louis' EYES this episode were the best yet. 👌

(RIP Estelle; I liked you the most.) I just wanna know if Louis ignited that rag from all the way at the Theatre, or if something in the exhaust or whatever triggered the fire on its own. (And now we know what that weird reaction from Santiago was about.)

Not Louis calling Santiago by his government name, LOL. 😭

AND Lou called you a colonizer too, you "'bleached-blonde, bad-built, butch body" British hack! XD

Using Francis at the end of every bar(b) was right out the "Crodie" Kendrick vs Drake playbook, I LOVE IT--THIS IS SURLOIN BEEF.

DANG, emasculation and evisceration in equal measure! No one cares about the eraser when the pencil's shaved down to a nub!

And not Louis using "Come to Me" as a death threat!

That MIMIC Gift must've STUNG, Francis! 😜

His death was WAY TOO FAST. These are the kinds of mofos you need to SAVOR.

That shot of the machete was sooo vintage Hollywood noir, it's really clever, especially to be used for Gothic Horror.

Rot In Pieces, FRANCIS! 💩🔪

[daily-crowley]

What character from GO is your favorite, and which one do you relate to the most? For me I relate to aziraphale the most but crowleys my favorite

BROTHER FRANCIS IS MY FAVOURITE HANDS DOWN!!! I would do anything for him, I would die for him and just him. I consider myself the #1 Brother Francis stan and defender. I’ve made long threads about Brother Francis and defending him because I really dislike seeing how much fun he gets made of and seen people hate on him because of his looks. I absolutely hate when people remove all of his features in fanfiction or fanart and just make him look like regular Aziraphale only still with his gardner clothes. Of course, depending on tone I can tell when someone is joking when they called him ugly and don’t mean anything bad by it but then there’s some people who post about how much they hate this era/look and it sounds so genuine that I absolutely just like lose respect for that person a little. Yeah this look is for comedic reasons but at the same time there’s people with the same features as him in the real world and sometimes when you’re making so much fun of a fictional character a person who might also have buck teeth can see it and their insecurity will grow. When it comes to Brother Francis it’s one of the very very rare instances where I will fight someone and I’ll probably look like I’m overreacting and taking it way too seriously but yeah… I adore him and he needs more love. It’s time people stop shitting on this look because it’s absolutely precious. Also, remember that looking like this he managed to get the nanny and she’s not embarrassed to be seen with him. If anything, Nanny thinks he’s the hot one in the relationship. 

And I guess I relate the most to Nanny Ashtoreth because she loves Brother Francis the way he is like I do. I know Nanny is Crowley and Brother Francis is Aziraphale and Crowley loves Aziraphale. But if they were their own separate characters Nanny Ashtoreth would still love Brother Francis for who he is and not just his looks. The whole Dowling’s staff would think they’re the oddest couple and have no clue why they’re together, but the answer is simple. And that’s because he treats her with respect and doesn’t see her as an object and he goes out of his way to make her feel good and special. Actually he wouldn’t even go out of his way to do this, it would just come naturally to him since he thinks that’s how it should be.

I really wish there was more fanart and fanfiction on these two. Whether they’re disguised or Nanny and Francis are actual people in an AU. There’s a few of those, and I absolutely LOVE THEM. I just need more content of them. 

[fideidefenswhore]

wolf hall (book and/or miniseries)

the characterization of francis weston...i actually feel like his characterization would've fit henry percy better (described as "light and hasty"-- that diverts to another thing i'd change, it was disappointing that mantel got so much of him correct, like his debts, and yet left no room to mention percy was often the source of some of the more vicious rumors about anne...instead it's always someone close to her, her family, like anne shelton and jane boleyn, that have such low opinions of her); i won't quibble with him being spirited and perhaps even shallow and extravagantly spendthrift (he was extremely privileged and only 25 when he died, after all); but having him be just so unequivocally nasty as to call cromwell's literal deceased daughters (to his and his son's face...?) ugly as sin just seemed way too easy a justification. she'd already written him into the wolsey farce to explain why cromwell picked from the cast to condemn those men in 1536, that just felt like laying it on too thick.

the device of cromwell promising parents on the edge of death to look out for their children to explain his actions ran thin by the time it was used for mary in tmatl (at that time, the second time it was used, already for wyatt). mantel should have chosen one or the other. even more realistically, i think cromwell's protection of wyatt should have been explained in the same way his protection of the future exeter players was used: he wanted him in his debt, he wanted to call on favors in the future.

the portrayal and arc of mary boleyn...as another reviewer put it:

"In Wolf Hall as in The Other Boleyn Girl Mary is the only uncalculating Boleyn, the only artless person at the Tudor court. [...] Although Mantel’s prose has been justly praised, this indignant speech could have been lifted right out of The Other Boleyn Girl or any other Tudor bodice-ripper that would not have made the Booker Prize shortlist. It’s as if, when we get to the Boleyn women [...] we’re always on the same terrain. [...] The best historical fiction, embellishes, invents, and excludes so that we see the past, and our relation to it, in a new way. Mantel’s novel may change how we look at Sir Thomas More and Thomas Cromwell. But her depiction of Mary Boleyn is the same old story."

there were a lot of things in the book that didn't really translate into the adaptation of the tv series, that were either abridged or altered or completely absent. i would've liked to see the scene from bring up the bodies after catherine of aragon's death, where anne discusses her stepdaughter, or the one earlier, where she says she understands catherine, because she would fight for everything she has for her daughter, as well. neither of those were in the tv series. in my estimation, cromwell is more blorbofied in the tv series than the books...it's not given enough space, but there are lines that attest to his ruthlessness, the executions of the 'right' men in ireland, for example, that i don't recall being given any space at all in the tv series. we get a sense of his personal life more than his political life, almost, in the tv series.

[bloodyknucklesforme]

I remember when Pope Francis was elected. It was the end of the school day (I went to Catholic school so big deal) and I was waiting for my mom to pick me up. The pick up line was right near the music room and our music teacher came running out yelling about how the new pope was walking out and a bunch of kids came flooding into this small little music room to watch on an old CRT tv mounted to the wall.

It's weird to think that was only 12 years ago. It feels like longer. He wasn't perfect and I still have issues with how he handled things with the church but as a closeted teen who grew up going to catholic school it did mean a lot to hear the Pope say that gay people were welcome in church even if I stopped believing at that time.

I hope the next pope continues his legacy of focusing on charity and the oppression of people across the world. Hearing that children at Holy Family in Gaza called Francis grandpa makes me want to ugly cry. I'm thinking about them the most at this moment.

[until-another-one-comes]

More serial killer Francis headcanons part 8:

Tw for murder, past abuse, trauma, SH, death and suicide

Regarding generational trauma, Francis’s abusive dad (I’ll call him Richard) also had an abusive bringing. To top it all off, he was a war veteran that was discharged from the army with undiagnosed mental illnesses such as PTSD and IED. I’ll just say he was already a horrible human being who treats people like crap and isn’t mentally sound either (like his son). Meanwhile Francis’s mom is a naive country woman who Richard knocked up one night and married her out of convenience. He doesn’t give a crap about his family at all. He treats them like a nuisance and is physically abusive towards his wife and Francis, thus the cycle continues.

As you already know, Francis mom was kind to him but turned psychologically abusive after she had gone insane from her husband’s abuse (it seems that mental illness and insanity runs in the Mosses family). One part I wanted to add to Francis’s story is that while he was treating his mother’s pneumonia, his mother threw the hot water at Francis in her crazed state. She saw her abusive husband in Francis, yells at him to go away and says that she could never love a monster like him. As you can imagine, it traumatised with Francis his entire life.

Francis was a lonely wallflower type of kid at school. While the kids bully him for being an extension of his father, Francis wanted to fit in and be appreciated for once. So he tried his best to help his peers or the teachers anyway they can but they usually turn him down and sneer at him because they saw him as weak and a trashy human being. So Francis gave up on his hopes on being liked by his peers.

Francis hates the thought of serving in the military because a) that would mean he’s following in his father’s footsteps b) drafting himself in the war would make his mental state much worse than it already is.

He found a milkman job through a newspaper ad. Even after he had gone insane after killing his father, Francis wanted to start a new peaceful life for himself (at first). He thought by delivering milk to people would give him some purpose in life since he’s helping the community but after he started his killing spree and his mental health declined, he never saw the point in anything anymore and keeps on working as a milkman as a means to survive.

Francis’s second victim was the first of many housewives he would later on kill. She was also unfortunately a catalyst for the start of Francis’s murder sprees. Francis got a compliment by her a couple of times when he delivered the milk to her. At first, Francis was extremely confused and flustered why she kept flattering him until one day she suggested they have an affair. Francis accepted believing that the housewife might’ve loved him and he thought he can finally be cared for. He was afraid of showing his body to her but he let go of his fears for once just to sleep with her. However once they were about to do it, the housewife was disgusted when she saw Francis’s scar ridden body and backs out. She couldn’t bear to look at him anymore. This deeply hurts Francis because he was only seen as an object for the housewife to escape her mundane marriage. In his eyes, all his value was to her was nothing but a sex object that she can throw away. Francis’s body image decreased significantly and he only saw himself as ugly. In a fit of rage and sadness, Francis tortured and killed the housewife for using him before dumping her body where no one can find her.

From that day on, Francis swore revenge on the housewives who wanted to use him to escape their marriage because he wanted to take his anger out on them for seeing him as a tool they can discard and by extension his father for his infidelity.

Other than that, his co workers and neighbours never bothered to get to know him as a person. Whenever anyone would strike a conversation with him, Francis doesn’t know what to say to continue their conversation. All he does is reply with a short sentence or the usual “mmm…” because he’s never made a friend before so he doesn’t know how he can reply. So everyone ends up ignoring him because they perceive him as a boring man with nothing to offer. Soon, Francis began believing it himself. He has no interests or passions other than killing so there’s nothing he has he can bond with people. He saw himself as an invaluable person with an empty life so why should anyone care for him.

Francis unsurprisingly has self destructive tendencies such as not eating or sleeping when he’s supposed to as well as smoking and drinking on his own. He tried self harming but it only made his scars worse so he stopped.

With his abusive upbringing couple with mental illnesses, his homicidal nature, his misanthropy along with his deep self hatred and negative body image, it’s no wonder Francis is so fucked up. At his core, Francis is an unloved crying child who was never saved. He craved to live a normal life where he can be loved and appreciates but with the lifestyle he led, he knew it was an impossible dream. He was doomed to live a life of misery, violence and loneliness.

Depending on how Francis dies, he’ll live his afterlife as a ghost. If he dies peacefully or kills himself in his own room, his ghost will haunt his own apartment and will cause disturbances and nightmares for the next tenants

If Francis dies via electric chair, his ghost will take on the form of blue light energy shaped into his figure with hollow black eyes and a wide smile like the Hoon Man.

Or if he dies via natural causes, suicide or gets killed, Francis’s ghost will take on a darker, more disheveled form such as having longer shaggier hair, hollow black eyes that cry black blood and with the biggest frown and a loose ruffled white dress shirt drenched in the blood of his victims.

Either way, Francis’s ghost will be transported to the nightmare realm where his ghost haunts the astral circle and its residents. Many of them question why his ghost look like their fellow neighbour Yog Sothoth.

Like the masked ghost, the doorman has to let Francis’s ghost in. Calling the DDD can result in a jump scare and immediate death for the doorman.

Even after death, Francis can never find peace.

So that’s it for now. By the way, I’m writing two fanfics based on this SK Francis now, one detailing Francis’s backstory and the other one featuring milk bread featuring yandere Francis. I’ll send it to you once I’m done.

More backstory time! Off topic but backstories are one of my fave types of headcanons

I really like the backstory you give Francis's parents, especially his dad. It explains his actions but doesn't excuse them

Gah damn not even death can free him thats so fucked up 😭

Oooh looking forward to your fic anon!

[mrscorcoran]

One more secret won't hurt / Bunny x reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

___________________________________________________________

Chapter 11: Bunny for Bunny

- “That is like, very cute, but in a really weird way,” Cam says, pointing at the small rabbits on my hand. We had just come out of the pottery class she signed us up for. We were supposed to make a small animal, and I immediately thought of Bunny, so I decided to make an extra little rabbit so I could give one to him.

- “He’s gonna get a kick out of it, so it was worth it,” I reply, brushing off her criticism. “Besides, you made that ugly cat for Charles, so what are you riding my ass for?” I add nonchalantly.

- “True. He likes cats though. I don’t even know if Bunny likes bunnies…” she retorts, carefully looking at my face as we walked towards my room.

- “Is that really it? You’re giving me a hard time cuz of your lack of knowledge on Bunny’s level of appreciation towards rabbits?” I look at her quizzically.

- “No, not really. It’s just that you spend an awful lot of time with him already, and even when he’s not here you still think about him. Just…makes me wonder….” she trails off, walking a bit slower. Her gigantic eyes fixed on mine, analyzing.

- “Look, Cam, just as I said to Judy already a thousand times, there is no crime in loving my best friend and showing it, okay?” I snap back, trying to sound as convincing as possible. Every word I said is true, but it does not really answer what she’s asking me. I half believe the intention behind the words, but if I’m being perfectly honest, the other half has been wondering just like Cam. When multiple people come to the same conclusion, you start to wonder if maybe you’re the one that’s wrong. I try not to entertain the thought, justifying every interaction as normal best friend behavior in my head. Some would call it denial, but it’s just what any rational person would do.

Of course I think he’s handsome, I have eyes. Just like I think Francis is handsome. Doesn’t mean anything, right? And so what if I think about him when he’s not around? I think about Cam all the time too. And if texting someone at inappropriate times means anything, then I must be in love with Henry too, huh? Ridiculous.

Seriously, though, getting so close to people can make the lines get blurry real fast. Getting called ‘babe’ and ‘honey’ constantly by Francis was all fun and games, until it made me miss my ex, and got me wishing Francis was bi instead. Holding Camilla’s hand to walk around campus was sweet and comforting, but it got me missing being held at night. That resulted in an awkward sleepover with Cam, with me being extra clingy. It’s all innocent, sitting on your best friend’s lap when there are not enough chairs at the library, until he absentmindedly places his hand on your lower back while laughing at someone’s joke, and your heart skips a beat.

Out of the whole group, I am closest with Bunny, so of course that line is the most confusing. It’s normal. I just have to push the thoughts away and not let things get weird, or awkward between us. And not let other people’s comments influence me so much.

When we reach my room, Cam opens the door and immediately jumps into my bed, getting comfortable after a long day of pottery. I place one of my bunnies on my trinket shelf, next to the ugly fox. The other bunny goes on the desk, ready to be grabbed on my way out. I had no plans with Bunny for today, but I’m excited about giving him the small rabbit, and I know he’ll be out of class in half an hour.

- “Cam, you mind if I step outside for an hour to go give Bunny his bunny?” I ask nervously, hoping she won’t go back to questioning me.

- “You mind if I nap in your bed while you’re gone?”

- “Not one bit.”

- “Then go right ahead,” she says, climbing into the covers and closing the drapes in one quick motion.

I grab the bunny carefully, and slip out the door.

_______________________________________________________

I look at my watch, careful not to tip the coffee too much, and stand up from the bench. One interesting fact about Bunny is that he’s insanely punctual. I spot him immediately, his dark green sweater I’d recognize anywhere, as he wore it almost like a uniform. When he spots me his entire face brightens up, and he hurries towards me.

- “Hey, you! Were we supposed to hang out today? I’m the worst,” he says, pulling me into a quick hug and resting his chin on the top of my head. His subtle way of calling me short.

- “Hi, Bun! We weren’t, don’t worry,” I say, pulling away from him, and handing him the coffee. “I just came to give you something.”

- “You didn’t have to come all the way here to give me coffee. I could’ve just bought it myself,” he looks at me quizzically, taking a sip.

- “Not the coffee, dumbass. This!” I extend my hand with the small bunny towards him. “I made it for you at that pottery class we took.”

- “No way! You really made it? I don’t believe you. It’s not ugly,” he says incredulously, taking the bunny and bringing it close to his face to inspect it. “For real, it’s very decent looking!”

- “Well, fuck you too! Geez,” I reply, laughing and shaking my head.

- “No, I meant it as a compliment! C’mon, don’t be sensitive. Let’s go sit down so I can take a better look at it,” he said, casually pointing at the big tree we usually sat under. Once we settled down under the tree, he handed me the coffee and I took a sip. He lifted his glasses and brought the bunny close to his eyes, a soft smile on his face. “I love it. You sure I can keep it though? It’s one of your adventure trinkets, I know you like saving them.”

- “I made two. This one’s yours,” I say, smirking, proud that I planned ahead for this exact situation.

- “Oh. In that case, thank you very much. For the rabbit and the coffee…” he carefully placed it inside of his bag, making sure nothing would crush it. He grabbed the coffee again, and scooched a bit closer to me, his shoulder firmly pressed against mine.

- “My pleasure. It’s a bunny cuz you’re Bunny… which, by the way, I’ve wanted to ask for so long, why does everyone call you Bunny?” I ask, turning my head to look at him. He gave me a conspiratorial look, accompanied by a smirk.

- “C’mere,” he says, leaning a bit closer to me. “I’ll tell you but you gotta promise not to tell anyone,” he looks around, as if to check there’s no one eavesdropping. I lean closer to his face, my eyes wide with anticipation. I didn’t know the origin of his nickname was a secret. I just never got around to asking him about it. He doesn’t say anything for a couple seconds, so I tilt my head back to look at him, and realize I’m closer to him than I thought, my nose about an inch away from his. I freeze for a moment, caught off guard by his eyes fixed on mine. He’s so close I can feel his warm breath on my face when he slowly exhales. The smirk slowly fades from his face. His eyes quickly dart down and back up to mine. It’d be so easy to close the gap, let my lips meet his and-

- “Ahem,” he clears his throat, and leans back away from me. I mirror his movement and lean back too, our shoulders pressed together once again, and look down at my hands. “I -uh – was just joking. There’s no real reason. It’s just a silly pet name my older brothers gave me when I was little. I guess cuz I was annoying and always jumping around. Eventually I got used to it,” he chuckles, taking another sip of coffee.

- “Should I call you Edmund instead? Or Eddie?” I tease him to try to break the awkwardness I caused. He lets out a loud laugh, and gives me a playful shove with his elbow.

- “Not even my mom calls me Edmund. Let’s just stick to Bunny, yeah?” he chuckles.

This is exactly what I meant about the blurry lines. There’s really no sense of personal space when I’m with Cam, or when I’m joking with Francis, our faces pressed close together while we gossip. And it’s usually not an issue with Bunny either. But more and more often lately, when we are speaking close together and our eyes lock, I get the sudden urge to kiss him. It’s not an urge I get with the other guys. With Cam, maybe once or twice, but c’mon, who wouldn’t want to kiss that face at least once. Moments like this are what makes me second guess my own feelings. I’d never had such a close friend before. Is it normal to have these intrusive thoughts about them? Is it simply curiosity? Wondering what it’d be like to kiss them, just like you’d wonder the same thing about a celebrity. I clearly made him uncomfortable though, from the way he pulled back. It does no good entertaining any of these thoughts, so the denial strategy continues.

After we say our goodbyes, I head back to my room, replaying the scene over and over in my head. My cheeks burning with embarrassment at what I almost did. Who ruins a good friendship out of curiosity? Geez.

I find Cam already setting everything up to watch our show, popcorn in a bowl and cheap wine waiting on the desk.

Denial. Oh, what sweet relief.