#yet another rare poster i need

[flowersofnaivete]

[arielleslipgloss]

It Girl Habits!!

(none of these photos are mine)

“You cannot live your life to please others. The choice must be yours.” - Anne Hathaway

Stay busy!! Do you see those it girls like Serena Van Der Woodsen scrolling on their phone all day? No, you rarely do. It girls are always busy doing something. So, therefore do some self care, study, workout, read, journal, go shopping, go on solo dates, hang out with friends, paint, have a dance party, etc. Do fun activities and take care of yourself. Another example of a busy it girl is, Elle Woods. Elle Woods wasn’t becoming one with the couch everyday. She had goals to achieve. She had people that doubted her to prove wrong. So get up! Start planning out your day or week. Start making goals!!

Have goals! You wanna know why you’re bored all the time? Well, it’s because you have no goals. You practically don’t have a life because all you do is sleep, eat, scroll, and repeat. You’re wasting time doing nothing. You could’ve had a clean room by now. Maybe you could have finished that book. Whatever it is, you could have had it. You could’ve been 1% better than yesterday. You don’t though because you have no goals. That time you’re wasting, can be used toward your goals. It can be used toward your dream life. Maybe, you do have goals? Yet you don’t even take action. What are you waiting for? For someone to do the work for you? No, get up and start taking action.

Be mindful of what you consume online!! Just like how who you surround yourself with affects you. What you consume online affects how and who you are. For example, listening to sad music makes you feel sad. Music is meant to tell a story that you feel deeply. You may not even relate to the song, but you feel as if you do. So, you become sad and continue to listen to sad music. When listening to uplifting music you gain confidence. You still feel like you relate to the song. Just with a more positive effect. As for what you watch and read. Don’t read/watch stuff that will put you down. Watch/read content that will help you.

Complimenting yourself every time you pass the mirror!! Some may say it’s cringy, but DO IT. Would you rather be cringy or be the best version of yourself? Exactly, so either say it out loud or in your head. Say it even if you might not believe it. Say it because you deserve it! Try to be creative with your compliments. Not all compliments have to be about your looks. It could be your personality, your thoughtfulness, how creative you are, etc. Also loosen up, be your own hype girl. When you see the mirror you could say, “Omg I look like the main character.” “Oh wait, I am!” Lastly, don’t forget to have fun with hyping yourself up.

Mediating or journaling when stressed!! When stressed we start to feel a lot of tension. So, that’s why meditating is so important to do when stressed. All you have to do is sit down and focus on breathing. Plus, It calms down your nerves, relaxes the mind, body, and soul. Not just that, but plenty of other benefits. Which includes, helps focus, betters mood, helps you sleep, slows down aging, etc. As for journaling, it’s practically free therapy! That is, at least in my eyes. All you need is a notebook, a pen or pencil, and yourself. Journal what’s making you stressed or anxious. Let all your emotions out, write freely. Your words don’t have to make sense. Nor do you need to have perfect writing. In fact, when you journal it may be all over the place. However or whatever you write, just let it out.

Expressing your gratitude!! Life is so beautiful and has so much meaning. So, either write down what you’re grateful for or thank God. You are so blessed to be here today. That is only just one thing to be grateful for. There are so many things to be grateful for, air, family, friends, your mind, being born as you, water, books, food, shoes, clothes, and so much more!! Express your gratitude everyday. It could be the most random thing like, a poster. As long as you’re truly grateful, then express it.

7. Having a low screen time!! Cliché, I know but it’s true. Your devices are consuming you. Think about what you use your device(s) for. Good examples are, for work, for motivation, tips, workout videos, inspiration, knowledge, and maybe even faith reasons. Now here are bad examples, procrastinating, sinning, hating on others, scrolling, because you’re bored, to watching videos of people that make you insecure, and lastly to cope with something. Which to clarify, trying to cope by using your phone, I understand somewhat. On the other hand, it could make what you’re coping with worse. I say that because there are so many studies on why our phone is bad for us. Seriously, so many and we are completely unaware of the damage it does. So for that reason, try to use your phone only for the good. I know you’re probably going to make an excuse. Which we all do and that’s ok, but please try.

8. Encouraging yourself to do better!! You should always be working hard to be 1% better everyday. So on the days you don’t feel like doing anything, encourage yourself. Show up for yourself, you will be so happy after. Lastly, trust yourself to get whatever done!!

9. Having a healthy sleep schedule!! For me, I try to aim for 8-11 hours of sleep. For others, it may be 7-10 hours of sleep. Whatever makes you feel the most well-rested should work. Just try to be consistent and mindful of the time. I also recommend to be off your phone for at least 30-60 minutes before going to bed. It will improve how you sleep a lot. That also being said, try not to be on your phone when you wake up either. It’ll help improve your health by a lot. Especially, the health of your brain and eyes. As I had mentioned, try to be consistent. Set a certain time to go to bed and turn off your phone. Then, get your lovely beauty sleep gorgeous!!

10. CLEANING!! The last habit is, cleaning. Now, I don’t just meaning cleaning your room or house. I mean even your body and mind. For starters, a clean room equals a clean mind. Therefore, stop procrastinating and start cleaning. Turn on some fun music and maybe even romanticize cleaning. Just make it fun and DEEP clean. I know someone reading this has been procrastinating on cleaning. You know who you are, so clean everything. Then, for cleaning the mind a little extra meditate. I feel like I already went over a bit about meditation. So lastly, for the body, take your showers consistently. Also, please wear deodorant. I see way too many people nowadays not wearing deodorant. Seriously, wear your deodorant.

“Always walk around like you have on an invisible tiara on.” - Paris Hilton

Remember, always apply lip gloss and stay pretty! Love you, dolls 💋

Info I used: https://reallifecounseling.us/blog/benefits-of-meditation

My Pinterest: @arielleslipgloss

[softringing]

There's always been a question that bugs me about sampo. Obviously, there are several, but this one specifically, has to do with his ideologies involving elation.

If sampo cares about people so much and desires to make everyone happy, why did he not take direct action in those 8 years he remained in belebog?

We all know sparkle said sampo has a line that he won't cross, and that line is very clearly not hurting people, well at least the ones who have already been hurt enough.

We see this from sampo's actions in the underworld vs overworld. For some reason, even tho sampo is a scammer and values money, he has never attempted to scam underworlders. In Hook's companion mission, hook's father had a rare mining item that was stolen by an npc named Skipper(?) I believe.

While Skipper was trying to sell this item to sampo, sampo kept insisting that he was selling it at such a low price. His direct words were "Are you sure you want to sell this at this price to me?"

And he kept hesitating until hook and tb found skipper and took the item back. We can see cleary that sampo means no harm to those who are weak but when he's in the overworld, he's known for scamming ppl like Chavez from Anti-Blue Scam Society without much remorse.

From all this, it's clear sampo has never done something to hurt anyone seriously, and to add to this, shields is the name for the belebog currency. Yet, in sampo's idle, we see him holding a different currency.

This pretty much implies that to sampo, belebogian currency would be useless. Although we know he's a scammer, we don't really know why he cares about money so much other than this text we got in game from him

Sampo seems personally tired of doing this :( but says that he has to to feed few mouths which we can take as him trying to help the ppl in the underworld with the money he 'earns'.

So, here we return to my initial question, why didn't sampo directly help ppl of belebog with their disaster if he has so much power?

He is hiding from a certain someone-- as mentioned by @/samposillies, in sampo's LC, the exact same currency he's holding is shown & his eidolon

(money model from @/kittykattz)

If u look really closely into his LC, you can see not only that it's from a POV of a sniper, but also another assasin behind sampo, holding a gun and wearing a foreign attire to belebog. The description also matches that someone's obviously trying to kill him, as told by the sniper himself.

At first, I assumed it was the ipc but their outfits lean towards red rather than plain black. Plus, although it looks like sampo isn't in belebog, there are two posters in the lc on the brick background and you can find these coffee posters in belebog at the location "Backwater pass".

But the thing is, sampo uses the non-belebogian currency (assumed to be Kalevalan currency) to convince the sniper to talk to him.

The lc's name is Eye of the Prey-- and although it's from sniper's POV, Sampo is clearly the Hunter, while the sniper is the prey.

This led me to think that someone from Kalevala is perhaps trying to kill sampo while he was in belebog, which is strange bc the world believed Jarilo-IV did not exist before the astral express saved them. Meaning that whoever is trying to kill sampo probably always knew about his whereabouts hence sampo decided to keep a low profile and decided to help underworlders in such a silent approach.

Not to mention, the currency sampo's holding doesn't have the usual hsr language on it (pointed out by @/samposillies)

(maybe it needs horizontal flipping ill check it later)

Therefore, we can assume sampo didn't help belebogians directly by bringing an end to the stelleron bc he's being chased by someone. and even tho sampo appears non-chalant or calm about it in his lc, maybe he just doesn't want that person to come and specifically show up in belebog.

We don't know why that person's trying to kill sampo but there are lots of reasons, just like the fact that sampo is LITERALLY the 'device' from Kalevala as referenced in his event. He CAN legit create ancient relics,

he laughs it off as a typo BUT HE CAN CLEARLY MAKE THESE RELICS!! GEPARD ALSO MENTIONS IN HIS LINES ABT HIM THAT HE SELLS A NUMBER OF ANCIENT RELICS!!

"ancient" MEANS OLDDD, like really old!! How can a normal person make such things?? Not to mention sampo can make his bombs and is immune to their poison and a MEMORY bubble (in autheirum wars), which had the description of being "abnormal or unusual"!! Only memokeepers can make memory bubbles, and herta has several of them in her space station. So he either stole one or knows how to make one himself!! Sampo also made those items in his pop-up shop event with some materials the tb brought so there's no doubt he's the object that's supposed to 'bring wealth'.

Or could it be that sampo is like Giovanni? He prefers natural endings rather than artificial ones? he's still a masked fool no matter how different his aesthetics are after all... LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU ALL THINK!!

Edit: Here's the flipped image of his money but I still can't read what it's supposed to mean and tried to google translate in Finnish but didn't. Work

[mizusnose]

Heaven is not fit to house a love like you and I

Summary: your lifelong crush on your best friend Akemi’s best friend turned girlfriend is something you’ve learned to deal with.

heavy on the angst, yearning, and sadness/anger that comes with a love unrequited…

Akemi is beautiful. She’s pale and her lips are naturally pink, no need for any tinted lip palm, her eyelids naturally double lidded—you admire her openly. It’s the same way you regard your jealousy whenever Mizu is around too.

It’s been a lifelong thing: this love you hold. Insistent like a stream in the summer, constant like rivers unnamed underground. A yearning you’ve come to deal with.

The thing is this: Mizu is beautiful. Not the kind of beautiful that Akemi is, with her pink skirts and dainty wrists and pink lips. Mizu is large palms, tall with broad shoulders, a shaved undercut that fails to hide the freckle on her nape. The bones of her chest that flutter whenever Akemi kisses her.

You turn away, tucked away in the corner of the bar. You’re single—always have been. It should be easy, and yet the warmth of the wine on your tongue sits heavy, strong and pungent.

They make a good match, you remember telling your friends, They’re meant for one another.

And you’d laugh, and you’d sit there and watch them whisper to one another, Mizu’s hands on Akemi’s tiny waist, her ribs, her shoulders.

The first time you’d wrote about it, the thudding of your heart, the heat of your face, Mizu’s face in your mind as you touched yourself, you realized: you were in love. The letter didn’t see daylight for years. Felt like a part of yourself from a past life, one now fallen away from and so distant.

You remember it now. As Mizu pecks Akemi’s jaw, her chin, the underside of her ear. How she walks away to get more drinks and Akemi sidles up to you, a flush on her face, the skin of her neck.

“You look angry.”

“Ah, just work stuff..you know..”

Akemi nods, sipping the melted ice of her drink. Her chest isn’t covered. It reflects the dim lights. You look away.

Mizu returns and sets wine glasses down. You meet her eyes, the blue of it an electric thing in your gut. She grins as a hello, and you nod back, tipsy and unbalanced.

Your letter would likely never see the light of day. Instead, it would sit where you’d left it, the half-life of truth on paper an eternity—double that. You remind yourself to burn it when you return home. Maybe get drunk while you do it, really make it dramatic as possible.

Yet, as the night stumbles away from everyone, Akemi leaves early for her early work call tomorrow morning. A slurred I hate it, I hate it, god I wish I could quit urghhh as Taigen took her home.

And then Mizu was there, against the wood of the bartop. Her glistening golden chains reflecting in the low light. She rarely ever wore anything too revealing: liked turtlenecks more than anyone you’d ever known. But her puffer jacket had been long set aside, now just an indigo outline of her. A person against the backdrop of the bar, a watercolor in the night. A thing of desire in your mind, your heart.

You’d talked, somehow managed not to make a fool of yourself. Maybe have given away you’d drank too much, so now she was directing you into a cab: her hands steady and distant from your waist, your hips.

She helped you back into your apartment, stopped to drink some water, give you some as well, and now here you both were: in the darkness of your room, a mess of yourself thudding against your entire body.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.”

Mizu doesn’t respond. She lays you down and walks around your room. steps over the mess of your floor and the disheveled state of your desk, your drawers, your walls pinned in posters of bands and music and prints.

Her hands would stop, start again at different points of the room and mouth the words of the poster or the messily scrawled note you’d written weeks ago. You’d watch her, unfocused and smeared in anticipation—of what, you couldn’t tell.

And then—

“A letter.” Her voice broke the silence. The hum of your fridge started up again, and you went still. Felt the blood in your body rush, felt it in your face, could hear it in your ears, “For me?”

———

ok this is too long snd idek if i’ll continue this but lmk what you think. i watched little women and needed some angsty yearning so here we are! maybe a part 2??

[heartfullofleeches]

makariy and sleephead darling for liffeeeeee :3

Makariy and Sleepyhead Bat Reader because grumpy sleep deprived cat + sleepy bat sounds cute plus bats are nocturnal. Picturing Bat Reader "renting" the attic to Makariy's new home and him only learning of his roommate when they're climbing up on the support beams to comfort. Maybe they're in an amateur rock band which he discovers after seeing their guitar tucked away in the corner of the room one of the rare occasions Reader is able to wrestle him down for a nap with him. He has an even bigger reason to want them gone because if they find out who he was that could be another whole shit storm.

Bat Reader genuinely doesn't care about his old life and just enjoys having a warm body to sleep next to because most of their band mates are busy during the day too-

-

"You were in a group too, Makariy?"

He knew he should've burned everything from that time period. A poster of the feline's grinning, youthful face tucked away in the recesses of his nightstand - staring back at him from your hands. Suddenly, Makariy feels like a stranger in his own bed. You lazily trace his a finger along the curve of his tail before folding the poster along its visible crises.

"That's so cool.... Hey, can I have more of the blanket? You're kinda hogging it all."

Makariy's arm stiffens beneath your head. "That's it?"

Fighting the spell of sleep, you raise your head from his chest as you mumble. "Yeah.. I think that's all I need right now. Your fur is softer than this pillows anyway."

"No, that's not what I....you don't have any questions?"

With a small shake of your head, you return to your previous position - siphoning the warmth from him since he's yet to give you what you asked for. "No....Not really. If you wanted to talk about it you'd have posters hanging up everywhere or something. It's nice we have that in common, but if I'm being honest I like you more as a body pillow than as an idol."

Makariy stares up at the ceiling, drawing circles by your shoulder blades right above where your wings sit nestled against your back. You've long since fallen asleep by the time his eyes meet your figured curled up to his chest. He takes a glance at the poster forgotten by you in favor of the real thing.

"....I think I like me more this way too."

[moonystoes]

Camp Out! - Elisa De Almeida

(Final part)

Here: part 1, part 2, part 3

Summary: It's Camp out, and being in the same tent as Elisa isn't so bad.

Warning: none!

w/c: 9.6k

A/n: I promised you guys I will post the fic this weekend (I lied it's already 2 am), I have to be honest but I completely gave up on this chapter. I am so attached to y/n and baby Elisa, but this was so difficult for me. There were things I wanted to remove and edit, but I don't care at this point. I may make another chapter, but for now... it's over :,(

Days have passed since prom and your plan on avoiding Paul has been quite successful. It was the last week of school before winter break, and since you were the teachers’ favorite, you were asked to be working around the school all the time. Organizing papers, stapling the review papers, handing them out…things the teachers should be doing, And your job today is to take off the old prom posters from around the school. Usually you’d be frustrated and annoyed at the amount of work they put you through without paying you (child labor much?), but you were thankful and delighted for the extra school work given. Another excuse to avoid Paul.

You somehow found yourself humming that same song from prom, calmly ripping out the posters in the hallways. It wasn't until you heard an obvious fake, rough cough behind you. As you looked over to see if your annoying teacher had another chore for you, your heart sank when you realized it was Paul with a frown on his face.

“Hey, sorry but I really need to remove all of those posters.” You robotally said, twisting your body back and ripping out the small tape around the corners of the posters.

“Come on y/n, you’ve been busy this whole week, “ He groaned, resting his palm on your shoulder to turn you around to face him, “Just give me a minute.”

You sighed loudly as you pondered for a moment. Maybe you will gain confidence in this conversation and will make him leave you alone, “fine, just be quick.”

He nodded quickly and stood up straight. Inhaling deeply, he blurted out, “You embarrassed me in prom.”

“Excuse me?” You retorted, “what did you just say?”

“I mean… You left me alone. Prom wasn’t good because of that.”

“Paul, prom wasn’t good for multiple reasons. One of them was me agreeing to be your date.” You shrugged him off as you ripped out the papers from the wall. How dare he say something like that? You never snapped in school, in fact you rarely do in general. But you don’t care anymore. Not after the way Elisa treated you 10x better than him and she wasn’t your date. Hell, she wasn’t even your friend!

“What do you even mean by that? I was there! I didn’t run away and lied about going to the bathroom.” He spluttered, flailing his arms around him in frustration.

“Well if you were a great date, you…�� you stammered, your confidence and anger has faded into worry. No matter how frustrated you are with him, you can’t make him angry or sad, the down part of being a people pleaser, “...would've noticed that I was sick. I had to go home.” You lied.

His brows furrowed in confusion, “were you actually?” He took a step closer to you, eyeing your body as if he would be able to see the sickness that way, “are you lying?”

Your face blushed at the thought of getting caught, “No! Why would I lie like that.”

“Because a friend of mine saw you walk out with another boy.”

A blush ran through your face as you looked down at the ground, too afraid to even glance at his doe brown eyes, “it wasn't a boy… It was Elisa.”

“What?” He gasped, flashbacks of the conversation both of you had at prom came crashing into him. 

“No matter how much she dresses like us, she can never be us,” You turned to look at him in surprise, “imagine being a lesbian and trying to dress like us yet you get no dates.”

Your shock turned into anger, “Paul, what the fuck!” You couldn't believe he is your date, let alone your best friend as a kid.

The guys all laughed at what he said and how you reacted, Paul looked at you in shame and he tried to pull you away from the group.

“No let go of me! You can't just say stuff like that, it's rude.”

No way! Did you ditch him for her? That's exactly what he said would never happen. Did the lesbian Elisa actually just snatch his girl on prom night?

“Ehm… she noticed I was sick in the bathroom and walked me home,” You turned your front into the wall, shakingly ripping out the papers on the wall like how you were supposed to do in the first place.

“Well…I'm sorry. You should've told me about it.” He shrugged his shoulders as his eyes were filled with disappointment in you for not letting him know.

“You should've acknowledged me.” You whispered back as you walked away from that hallway, exhaling calmly knowing that conversation is over, not caring how insensitive your response may be.

It felt great knowing that whatever had happened between you over the years through childhood is now thrown out. You may have been heartbroken if you knew this at the beginning of the year, but it feels like a blessing to you now.

___

January 11th, 2013

Turning slowly towards Sammy, you mumbled, "Do you know what is going on there?” Class should've started 5 minutes ago, but the class was delayed by 3 teachers who were whispering at the door including the school principal. 

"Yeah, it's Camp Out this Friday." Sam said in a duh tone. You hummed quietly, opening your notebook and writing the date quickly to prepare yourself for the new lesson. The teachers quietly left, leaving the History teacher alone at the front of the brightly lit class to start the afternoon.

"Good afternoon everyone. As you know, it's the beginning of the second semester and we have this tradition called ‘Camp out’." his hands fiddled with a stack of papers, folding them together and unfolding as he walks around the class.

"Told you." Sam stuck out her tongue quickly, before turning back to the front of the class.

"If you didn't know about Camp out, it's a tradition where the first year of high school gets a camp day for free! We will camp at the park, forest or whatever you want to call it. The one behind the school. We will provide food, movies, and games. But we will also sleep there. You will need to bring your own tents, sleeping bags, and anything you want.”

The students turned around, already discussing to each other what they should bring and do. You glanced at Sam to plan the day, but her long hair covered her face, and she played with her nails as always.

"Hey! I'm still talking. It will happen in three days, this Friday. You will go to school like normal. And instead of going home at 4, you will stay here. We will move to the park and build our tents, and stay there till 10 in the morning of the next day. We will provide dinner, snacks, and breakfast. Then your parents or guardian will pick you up on Saturday morning. When we sleep, we will split the area in two. One for the boys and one for the girls.”

"Is Elisa sleeping with us too?" A loud remark came from the left side of the class. You knew it was Paul, especially after the conversation you had around three weeks ago. He had been very harsh towards Elisa, before it was small remarks to his friends, but now it's more than that. There was a certain jealousy brewing in him after knowing how she was there to help you instead of him when you were ‘sick’ at prom. Laughter erupted from the class, making you frown at him and glance at Sammy as she shrugged.

You awkwardly shifted to the back of the class where Elisa sits with Fleur and Marie. Even with the loud chatter of the class, Elisa was staring at her empty table, fiddling with her pen. She was clearly lost in thought, her body drowning in an oversized gray hoodie. When you looked at the rest of the table, you caught Marie’s eye. Realizing she caught you staring at Elisa, you flinched and turned back immediately to the front of the class.

"Paul, try thinking of something creative next time." Mr. Nick glared at Paul, angry at the unwanted interruption. "There will be 5 teachers with you guys, and we will be awake at all times to make sure none of you do anything inappropriate, I know you guys are responsible enough to not do it.”

He took a deep breath, walking around to pass the consent forms. Since you and Sam sit at the front, you were the first to receive them.

"Will you go?" Your eyes quickly skimming over the words.

"Absolutely not." Sam joked, ripping the paper in half. You gasped, turning to look at the torn paper on the table.

"What the fuck, why?" You furrowed your eyebrows together at the mess, "oh my God it's literally 5 minutes into class and you're already acting up.”

"You think I'm acting up? Imagine how these boys would act at 2 at night. I'd rather jump off a cliff.” her head turning towards the boys’ tables, their voice looming over the class. “Look at that, they're already planning what they'll do to us when we sleep.”

“...what will they do to us when we sleep?” You hesitantly questioned, face flinching away from Sam knowing she'll probably start blabbering again.

“Are you crazy? What rhymes with grape?” She whispers shouts, her eyes glancing back at Xavi, the creepy kid of the class.

“Oh Sam, you can't just assume something like that!” You gasped at her accusation. It is true, Xavi was a complete weirdo to all the girls, but bringing up a big topic like that wasn't right. “Don't worry, I'm sure nothing will happen around the teachers and the girls.” You reassured her.

“Oh yeah, because Elisa's big, juicy, arms will save you from the bad guys.” she mocked, her body leaned closer to yours with a wink.

You looked back at the clean whiteboard, wishing to disappear. “Fuck off Sammy.”

Sam's cackle was loud enough for some of the students nearby to glance, making you kick her foot under the table and praying that Elisa didn't hear what she said.

Sam had been making jokes about Elisa after the prom conversation, she wanted you to feel relaxed around her and admit your crush. But you had made an obvious mistake (Sam knew this was a step closer for you to admit it), when you walked around the school’s football pitch at lunch on the first day of school after winter break.

You were watching the small matches played by the students when you surprisingly saw Marie on the sidelines. Knowing that she loves and plays the sport, you sat next to her with a bright smile and questioned why she wasn't there playing with the rest, and obviously her response was about the sexist boys. When you looked back at the pitch, you found Elisa between the boys. She clearly couldn't care less about what the boys were saying. She wore a sleeveless basketball jersey showing off her arm tan lines, and shorts long enough to reach her knees. It was obviously too cold for her to be dressed like that, but the afternoon sun and playing had helped warm her up.

The harsh sun caused her body to shine with sweat and caused her short hair to stick to her forehead. But what made your heart start to race is when she pushed Paul with a physical tackle, grass flying around them from the impact. Paul was grunting in pain on the ground, waiting for the whistle to blow. But Elisa wasn’t groaning in pain, she instead immediately pushed herself up from the ground, making her biceps bulge.

The boys called out for a yellow card, but all Elisa did was laugh at them and remind them of their comments beforehand about ‘girls being too weak to play football with them’. You quietly stood up and smiled at Elisa for fighting for her spot. You knew it was difficult for girls to argue with boys like them, and Elisa doing it shows her passion for the sport.

Elisa saw you smiling in the corner of her eyes, and when she turned to look at you completely, her face turned crimson red. She bit her lip and turned back to look at Paul on the ground, feeling a small sense of victory. Yes, I won her over.

You weren’t aware that Elisa had thought about this moment for too long too. It was unusual to see you acknowledge her, and she had begged for something to happen between you ever since the walk after prom. Seeing your beaming smile because of something she did made her brain shut down for a second. Especially after what happened at prom, she’s worried if she’s reaching for an inaccessible relationship.

Sam knew about this new fascination of Elisa’s arms in class that day, when you nudged her quickly and subtly gestured to Elisa with your head when she walked past the both of you to her seat. She gave you a confused look, mumbling a small ‘what’. But you pointed at your bicep, flexing your weak arm to show her what you meant. She turned around to glance at Elisa's arms for a second and turned back to look at you with a disappointed glance, making you shyly shrug with a simple ‘her arms are stronger than all of the boys here’.

And from that day, Sam has subtly brought up Elisa's arms in every discussion you have. At first it was funny, but nowadays it causes you to panic, feeling horrified at the idea of her knowing about your crush. 

“Each tent will have four people in them, there are enough students for four tents for boys excluding James since he’s on a trip now, but for the girls there is an extra girl. One of the groups will have to compromise and let her join, okay?” Mr. Nick's close voice caused you to jump out of your seat, waking you up from the daydreams again about elisa.

“Sir, I'm not going.” Sam raised her hand, causing you to glare at her.

“Perfect. Y/n, why don't you sit with the Powerpuff girls at the back.” His hand rested on your shoulder, one of the disadvantages of being his favorite student and sitting in front. You gave him a soft nod at his reassuring smile, bending down to pick up your bag.

You glanced back to Sam, whispering quietly, “I can't believe you're making me do this alone, we'll talk about this later.”

“You're sleeping with Ms. Buff arms, have fun.” She whispered back with a cheeky smile and a subtle wink, causing you to stop packing and gape at her for a second. You had completely forgotten about what all of this is for, realizing that out of every girl group in this class it's with them. You didn't have a problem with either Katoto and Fleur. But when it comes to Elisa, you cannot be sleeping in the same place as her.

You sighed audible, taking your backpack and walking to the back of the class. Grinning at Fleur and Marie as you sat in the empty seat of the four-seat table.

“Hey,” you whispered in the middle of the table, letting them know you've sat with them since both Marie and Fleur were sneakily on their phones and Elisa doodling on her notebook. Elisa hummed at your approach, not even glancing at you.

“I’ll bring the tent.” Fleur said looking up from her phone, glancing at you and the girls. You breathed out, at least one of them isn’t ignoring you and actually looked at you from them.

“Guys imagine bringing snacks and staying up all night? We have to do that!” Elisa suddenly gasped, she grabbed Marie's bicep since they were sitting next to each other. “Fleur, what type of snacks do you want?”

You felt a sudden energy of sadness in you, not used to the feeling of being left out. You knew she was not purposefully trying to ignore you, but it felt like shit. Your mind kept reminding you of her Facebook post, that all of the things both of you went through (which isn't much…and you knew it), was all friendly. And she doesn't think you are pretty enough for her to talk to you.

“I don't care, sour patch kids and cheetos but you can bring the whole store and I'll eat anything.” Fleur shrugged, her fingers awkwardly tapping on the table.

“I can get the snacks.” You finally spoke out, voice slightly cracking when Elisa looked into your eyes across from you. You turned to your left to check on Fleur, and she nodded with a satisfied ‘okay’. Elisa shrugged, writing on her notebook ‘snacks’ under your initials.

“I'll bring the sleeping-bags… I already have four from family trips.” Elisa awkwardly mumbled, writing the things she needed under her name. 

“Make sure Alex didn't shit on them, I don't want to take his.”

“Hell no I'm taking mine, you either take my parents’ or Alex's.”

“Fleur, take Alex's, imagine what her parents did on theirs.” Marie covering her face from Elisa with the palm of her hand as she ‘attempted’ to wink.

“Ew weirdo, they're literally divorced.” Elisa moved her body so she could see Marie’s face, but what she didn't realize is that she got really close to you by propping herself on the table with her hands, and sitting on her knees so she could move freely around the table and look at Marie. You panicked and pushed your seat slightly back, making Fleur notice and glancing at you for a second before turning back to them, “what are you gonna get?”

“I don't know… I'll get board games! Like Uno or something.” She exclaimed until she saw Elisa's disappointed face, “Okay fine I'll think of something else.”

The table went quiet, you looked around waiting for someone to say something. But Elisa just folded her arms on the table and rested her head on them to sleep.

You sighed as you look at the list,

“Elisa - sleeping bags

Fleur - tent

MAK - games?

Me - snacks Cheetos, sour patch kids, and anything”

While Elisa was sleeping, you kept glancing at her grown hair. You can't look at her for too long, or else you might end up having a meltdown. It bothered you that for the first time you had an actual crush, she doesn't even think you're pretty. A deep frown was stuck to your face, and you didn't care if Fleur, Marie or everyone in class noticed. All you wished is for her to see you the way you did.

Elisa wasn't sleeping, she did try to take a nap but her head kept distracting her. And the thought of you sleeping next to her is suffocating her. Would you wear a silk mini dress? Or a silly mickey mouse pjs? It doesn't matter, because she knew she would be a blushing mess no matter what you were wearing.

She was also thinking about what Marie and Fleur are gonna do. She knew that they liked playing risky games, what if they put the both of you together for seven minutes of heaven? Or dared you to kiss? They wouldn't do that. No way, right? What if when you watch a movie they force you and her to cuddle? She can't let them know the effects you have on her, because they would definitely try and set them up together.

“Eli stop being depressed, it's literally your birthday.” Fleur groaned out, reaching her hand to mess up Elisa's hair.

You glanced back at Fleur and then looked back to Elisa. Eli? Wait… maybe Fleur is the pretty girl she was talking about in that post. Or maybe they're just friends. You gave Samantha nicknames all the time! Sam, Sammy…it could be a friendly gesture, not a flirty one.

But your mind was lost, and the idea of them both going to prom reminded you that whatever relationship you want with her is never gonna happen…not when Fleur plays her hobby in the same academy as her and touches her hair and body all the time.

Elisa, or Eli, looked up with a fake animated pout, “stop… I already know you're gonna do something once we go training.”

Marie's head was pushed back from laughter, “should we put glue in her deodorant this time?”

“Ew! what the fuck?”

“I saw that from one of those DIY pranks on youtube.” She shrugged, tears rolling from her eyes looking at Elisa's horrified face.

You didn't say anything, feeling ashamed at not doing anything for her birthday. In your defense, you didn't know. But there was still guilt at the thought of bringing nothing for her. 

You were also feeling flustered, not at the gift part, but at the feeling that started blooming in you when looking at Elisa that way. The pouty face, the panicked, and the frustrated expressions. Even if Elisa was ugly crying with snot going down her mouth, you'd still be blushing. It was a lot for you, too much in a span of 5 minutes. It didn't help that Elisa's hair had grown and now looks like a bird's nest from Fleur's hand.

Fleur tugged Elisa's hand, “we're not gonna do that, we will probably get kicked out of the academy.”

Elisa shut her eyes and sighed loudly, “thank the lord.” Making the whole table softly giggle and go silent.

It was awkward, maybe for you only. So you took a risk, “Happy birthday Elisa, sorry I didn't get a gift…I didn't know until now.”

She looked up from her scribbles to you and gave you a small smile, “no worries, I'm not really expecting one from anyone in here anyways.”

“I'm pretty sure we can do something on camp day, right girls?” Maybe you can get her something on Friday, “like a mini party at night? Unless you guys have to sleep early for football, of course.”

Fleur looked at the girls at the table, having a silent conversation with their eyes only. Your hands were starting to feel clammy. Oh God, what if they're talking shit about me? What if I sound so desperate now?

“That's a cute idea, sure!” Fleur smiled at you, she looked back at Elisa, now having a suspicious face and glancing at everyone around the table, “we don't have training on Saturdays, we have a match on Sundays though. But it's okay, they're always in the afternoon or evenings so we don't have to wake up early.”

You turned to look at Elisa, but her eyes remained on Fleur next to you. Take a risk,  you reminded yourself, it worked last time.

You tapped her hand making her turn to look at you, “don't worry, no pranks. Just a small birthday party.” You gave her a smile.

Elisa looked at your eyes, it had been long since she had actually tried to maintain eye contact with your eyes (she was clearly blind not to notice the struggle isn't one-sided), her cheeks turned slightly pink, enough for you to smile even larger, “Ugh, thanks. I just want you to know that you really don't have to do all of that.”

“Why not? You know, in some places like Mexico and Latin America, they celebrate the 15th birthday like weddings! It's called quinceañera. They invite a lot of people and wear fancy dresses. It's sweet, and I know I don't have to do it, but I want to.”

Marie's eyes were wide as she gave a knowing look to Fleur, the table remained quiet for a few seconds as the both of them were communicating with their eyes.

Elisa was not just pink, she was red as a cherry now. She let out a giggle at what you said and just gave out a shrug, knowing if she tried to say something it would either be dumb or just a long minute of stuttering.

For the first time, it wasn't embarrassment or awkwardness that was filling you from this silence, it was hope. Hope that maybe there could be something that you can make from the relationship, especially after Elisa's blushing mess.

After a minute of praying that all of this would end, Elisa's prayers were answered when your teacher asked for everyone to move back into their seats.

When you sat back down next to Sam, she turned to look at you with a knowing smirk, “how was it?”

“Did you know it's Elisa's birthday today?” You quickly asked her, turning your body now to the front of the class since the lesson will actually start.

“No, are you doing something for her?” She asked, hoping you'd say something that will make her ‘theory’ true.

“Not now, but in camp I'm gonna get her something. What should I get her?” You remained facing the teacher as you replied.

Sam smiled, holding in her laugh, “I don't know…maybe football boots?”

You thought for a second before shrugging off what she said, “no, they're too expensive and I don't know her shoe size.”

“Hmm…I don't know, we'll figure it out later.”

You nodded at what she said before continuing writing the notes.

___

Your father sighed quietly when he saw the bill, “all of this? A cake? And a… what even is that?” He took a sip of the dark cup of coffee he had, staring at some old romcom show on TV.

“It's for the camp out thing, I told you before me and mama left,” You glanced at his distracted face, glad that the show is making him less angry than how he would've reacted without it. “It's a mini cake! For my friend's birthday. And that thing is a bracelet set, so I can make jewelry.” You calmly spoke out.

“Ugh fine, just let me know when you buy the whole store next time.” He groaned out, shrugging you off with his hand.

“Thanks, love you.” You bent down and kissed his head, running off to your room to pack your things.

You grabbed a gym bag, something your mom abandoned for years. And started filling them with essentials, pads, underwear, your hello kitty pj's that you weren't embarrassed by, some emergency products in case anything happened.

You brought another bag for all of the snacks, making sure the cake box is placed on top so it doesn’t get mushed. Turning around your room, you opened the bracelet making kit and stared at the beads. Would Elisa wear a bracelet? They aren’t a very feminine thing, and you were sure if you used masculine colors she would be okay with it.

The problem is that you were not sure if she would accept it from you. You weren’t close with her, why would she wear something you made her? She doesn’t even wear any jewelry in the first place! You rolled your eyes as you groaned loudly, dropping your body backwards on your bed. You knew you were overthinking it, but you really wanted her to like you. It felt like elementary days, where the kids would buy gifts for their classmates to gain a friendship.

Deciding to make her a black and white bracelet, the colors of a classic football and it was not ‘feminine’, something Elisa has avoided throughout the whole school semester.

After thirty minutes and an intense back stretch, you were finally satisfied with the product. You placed it in a small velvet bag, writing a small note in it that says ‘happy belated birthday, I don’t know if you like wearing jewelry like these, but I hope you would like this.’ You also decided to take the bracelet kit with you there too, maybe Marie or Fleur would want to make some at midnight.

___

It was already Friday, all of the students abandoning the teachers as they excitedly planned their evenings together. You were standing in the office, where the class kept their Camp Out equipment before classes started. It was already 4pm, and now you were meant to be moving to the park. You were shyly staring at your group, too scared to approach them. But Elisa turned around and spotted you, giving you a small wave so you could go there.

You grinned, giving her a wave back as you carried your three bags; your backpack, gym bag, and the beach bag that was filled with the snacks, “Hey, I brought everything here.”

Fleur turned to glance at you, “oh hey, thanks by the way.” She bent down and carried your things to the corner of the room.

“Oh, you don't have to do this. You're still injured!”

She shrugged you off, “don't worry about it.”

“Alright, let's move from the back door, walk across that football pitch, and go on that sidewalk.” The counselor called out.

You went down and carried your backpack, grabbing the other two heavy bags when Elisa's hand stopped you, “I got it.”

“You are already carrying 2 sleeping bags, it's okay.” You argued, but before you grasped the handles Elisa was already lifting them.

She turned to maintain eye contact with you, “It's fine.”

You nodded and followed the teachers. You were a few steps ahead from the other girls, but you were able to hear what they were saying.

“Yo, look at her back,” Katoto laughed out loud, “Elisa trying so hard to look strong.”

“Shut up!” Elisa whisper-shouted at both of the girls giggling. It was obvious that she was struggling with carrying the bags, but she wanted you to think of her as a strong girl.

You bit your lip, holding in the giggle that almost came out of you. The walk was long, and the bickering between the girls did not stop.

“Elisa, you're so strong, please come carry my things for me.” Fleur fake-groaned, obviously mocking Elisa's posture.

Marie was already in tears by now, clutching into her stomach from the pain. Elisa hoped that you couldn't hear any of the things they're saying or else she'd just die. But by the way your shoulders were vibrating, she knew that you had been laughing with them.

When the class reached the empty field, you went to the right side (the girl's section) and placed all of your things there. You looked at Elisa's red face, “thanks…you didn't have to carry all of them.”

Elisa threw everything roughly on the ground, her shoulders and back too damaged to care about the safety of the products inside your bag, “oh no…I'm fine.” She nodded towards you, twisting her torso and trying to stretch the pained muscle on her lower back.

You giggled seeing her like this and nodded back, going over to Marie and opening the big tent bag. While trying to stabilize the tent edge into the ground, you saw a shadow crouch down next to you, “Hey y/n… you can have my sleeping bag tonight.”

When you turned to look at your right, your face blushed at how close she was. Her eyes were burning yours, trying to see a reaction of discomfort from how close she is to you. But she found none, other than a slight shaky breath and pinkish cheeks.

“Are you sure? It's yours.”

Elisa placed her shaky hands on top of yours, tightening the fabric of the tent into the ground when she realized it was loose, “I can sleep in my mom's or dad's… I feel like it would be inappropriate of me to just give you theirs and not mine.”

“What about Marie and Fleur?” You asked, glancing at the both of them adjusting the other corners.

“Pfft who cares about them, they can sleep on the ground.” Elisa shrugged them off, making you laugh.

“Wow…I'm sure they would be disappointed at your loyalty.” You sarcastically gasped.

Elisa smiled shyly, getting closer to the point where your shoulders were sticking to each other, “oh please…our relationship is just us bullying each other.”

It was a minute of silence between you guys, the both of you not wanting to leave the other. It was until Fleur groaned out as she stood up, looking at the both of you ‘adjusting’ the corner and giving Marie a suspicious nudge.

Marie looked at the both of you and winked at Fleur, “guys let's put the things inside!”

The both of you quietly sighed in disappointment, standing up and grabbing all of the bags inside and organizing the place.

“Wow you brought all of these snacks?” Fleur gasped as she looked through the beach bag, “wait, what is that?”

She pointed at the cake box, “shh… that's Elisa's birthday cake.”

Fleur nodded as she got closer to the cake, “what flavor is it?”

“Chocolate with vanilla frosting,” You responded, “I felt like Elisa would like that…no?”

Fleur remained silent for a second before turning to look at Elisa, “Hey Elisa, isn't strawberry your favorite cake flavor?”

You huffed out and turned the other way, I guess she didn't hear me when I said ‘shhh’, you looked at Elisa as she gave Fleur a disgusted look, “ew no what the fuck?”

Fleur rolled her eyes in annoyance, “oh come on, is it too girly for you?”

Elisa glared at Fleur, “no it just tastes like anything but strawberries.” She laid down the sleeping bags in order before adding, “chocolate is my favorite, I thought you'd know this.”

Fleur turned and gave you a surprised look, “wow I guess y/n knows Elisa more than us.”

It was obvious Fleur was teasing the both of you, and the way Marie was smirking on the side didn't help Elisa's panic. Was her attraction that obvious? What if you think it's gross the way they're joking?

There was a moment of silence, Elisa glaring at both of her friends while you organized your stuff on the corner. A shadow came by the tent door, “Girls go out, we have some tasks for you!”

Marie gaped at the door, “I thought this camp was supposed to be fun!”

“Stop complaining and go out now!”

“Okay, miss!” You yelled out before rolling your eyes. Today is going to be a long day.

----

“Here is your pizza.” Elisa placed a cheese pizza next to you and sat there. You stopped touching the small cut on your toe and looked up, “hey, thanks.”

Elisa nodded, looking at the bloody toe you have, “I will get you a bandaid once we go to our tents, okay? I can clean up the cut too.”

You felt your cheeks turn hot at Elisa’s gentleness towards you. Instead of responding to her, you just gave her a shy smile and bit into your pizza.

Fleur and Katoto sat further away from the both of you. Usually, they would get jealous and frustrated at how Elisa is basically ignoring their existence. But you were an exception, especially when this is the first time they see Elisa this way with anyone. As well as, seeing you have a crush on someone… someone that’s a girl and their bestfriend.

Elisa wanted you to see her as a responsible person, someone that can help you whenever you need it. She carried your stuff, made your sleeping ‘corner’, helped you walk when you tripped over a rock and hurt yourself, gave you your dinner, and now offered to clean up your cut. She just hoped that it wouldn't overwhelm you, and maybe you’d realize that she is just an annoying, clingy person that doesn’t understand boundaries.

But you never complained, only looking down and avoiding eye contacts with a sheepish smile. There was some hope, that maybe you’d actually see her the way she sees you, and maybe you actually like girls. That’s a thought Elisa is currently trying to avoid, too afraid to hurt herself the more she thinks about it.

You took a few bites from the large pizza slice before turning to Elisa, “Hey… I got you a mini gift,” You placed your left hand into your pocket and pulled out the mini jewelry bag, placing it delicately into her palm. “I hope you like it.”

She smiled shyly as she tightly grasped it, “you didn't have to get me a gift.”

You avoided eye contact while taking a bite, “I know, but I wanted to.”

“Guys if you're done, get your pajamas and go back to the school building to change,” one of the teachers yelled out, “there are lights around the school so it won't be too dark.”

You turned to look at Fleur and Marie, signaling with your head if you should go now or wait. They nodded and slowly stood up, their legs too sore from sitting for too long.

You placed your left palm on the ground to push yourself up, but you saw Elisa standing up and reaching out for your hands. Everything was overwhelming you, she was too gentle and sweet with you. And it horrified you to know that all of this can be a friendly gesture, that all Elisa wants is some pretty girl that definitely wasn't you.

The group walked to the bathrooms with their clothes, Fleur and Marie changed in the same cubicle, claiming that they're making more space for others who want to change. Elisa went to one alone while you did the same, getting slight deja vu from the first week of school.

You were out first, braiding your thick long hair. Some of your other classmates were also in the restroom with you, so you decided to have a chat with them while you waited on the others.

“Augh fuck guys,” Elisa groaned out from her cubicle. Opening the door slightly with pink cheeks and a shameful look.

You looked worriedly, stepping forward to check if she hurt herself on something. But she shied away and hid herself from the door, “Hey Elisa…is everything okay?”

“Umm…yeah, I just got my period I guess.” She muttered weakly, too embarrassed at herself for not tracking the days or even bringing something with her.

“It's okay…do you want pads or tampons? I've got some stuff.” You whispered back, it's obvious she didn't want the others to know about it.

“Can I get a tampon?” She asked, opening the door slightly so you can hear her better.

But you froze, you didn't want to admit it but she looked precious this way. You thought that you've been strong this whole day, but seeing her vulnerable in front of you made you feel weak in the knees.

You nodded quickly, going to your bag and pulling out one. You rushed to the cubicle and handed it, “I'm gonna do something, just meet me at the tent, okay?”

She gave you a soft smile in gratitude and nodded, before shutting the door.

You took a heating bag from your never-ending bag and decided to go to the school kitchen, hoping it would be open and whoever is in there would allow you to use some of the equipment.

When you got in, you noticed one of the janitors. Thankfully, she was a sweet old lady that loved you. When you told her what happened, she gave you an understanding glance before pouring hot water into the bag you had.

When you reached the tent, you noticed all of them sitting in a circle. They were whispering into each other, and it seemed as though Elisa was embarrassed and frustrated with what they were saying. When she saw you at the door, she sat up, “she's here.”

“Hey guys, I had to go to the kitchen for this.” You raised the bag, and delicately gave it to Elisa.

She placed it on her lower stomach, croaking a small ‘thank you’. She was worried if you heard their previous conversation, since it was about you. Fleur and Marie were making comments about how Elisa ignored them the whole time they were here. Even when they were watching a movie, Elisa was near you in some way. That's how she came and helped you out when you fell, the memory of her catching you is still vivid in her mind, your body felt so soft in her arms. 

“Let's play truth and dare!” Fleur jumped to the ‘trash’ corner and grabbed one of the empty bottles.

“Nope, I'm not playing.” Elisa moved away from the group, going to her ‘corner’.

“Oh come on, what's wrong with playing this?” Marie groaned loudly, going over to Elisa to pull her back into the circle.

You were still standing by Elisa's now empty spot, too shy to sit down. What if they didn't want you to play with them?

“I know what you guys wanna do, and I'm honestly not in the mood for all of this.” Elisa snapped, slapping Marie's hand away from her, “especially now.”

You turned the other way, pulling out some book from your bag to read. You felt shame all over you, it's obvious that she doesn't want to play with them because you're around. You didn't understand, she was attached to you all day, and now she doesn't want to play with you?

Marie smacked Elisa’s hand again, pointing discreetly at your discomfort. She leaned into Elisa and whispered, “you’re making her feel sad…she thinks you don't want her to play with us.”

“That’s not why I don’t wanna play.” Elisa whispered back, watching you as you read some romance novel in your hand.

“But that’s what she thinks,” she tapped Elisa’s shoulder before going to the middle of the tent with Fleur. The both of them are curious on what Elisa would do to make you join.

Elisa groaned internally, she has been too affectionate with you this whole day. Would you be grossed out by her admiration and gentleness?

She slowly walked up to you, “hey… do you wanna play with us?”

You glanced up to look at her, “umm…if you want me to play with you.”

Elisa’s heart broke when she heard your voice crack from insecurity. She didn’t mean for this to happen, she just didn’t want to scare you off from Fleur or Marie’s questions, “of course we want you to play with us…c’mon.” reached out her hand for you to grab, and she felt her muscles relax when you placed your soft hands on hers.

When you both sat in the circle, she was next to you. Marie smiled at you, happy that you accepted to play with them, and spinned the bottle. It awkwardly stopped when the cap was pointing at Fleur, “hmm…truth or dare?”

“Dare.” Fleur responded confidently, folding her arms on her chest.

“Okay…I dare you to like the first 5 posts of the first person that pops up on Facebook.”

Fleur glared at Marie, turning on her phone to see who would pop up, “Oh my God no…it’s my uncle. He’ll be so confused on why I’m liking posts from 2007.”

After many rounds of playing, Fleur’s bottle stopped at you. “Truth or dare, y/n?”

You paused for a second to think, considering the previous dares, you settled for truth.

“Umm…do you like Paul? We promise we won't tell.” 

“We're loners anyways we don't have anyone to tell us to.” Marie added, trying to make you more comfortable with them.

You remained silent for a few seconds, avoiding their eyes -especially Elisa's, “No, I don't like how he treats Elisa.”

Elisa perked up when she heard what you said. Flashbacks from prom night came crashing into her, 

“I don’t care about him.” You gulped the water and threw the paper cup in the trash.

“Did he hurt you?” She stepped closer to you as the loud music was making it difficult for her to hear you. But your flustered state made you step back, “no, he just said something rude about someone I care about…”

Was he talking about her? Did you care about her that much?

Elisa's cheeks were too pink to be ignored, Fleur smirked and decided to ask you another question, “so before Elisa was here, did you like him?”

You were still a little shaken at the question, “I don't think so…maybe a small crush I guess. I think I just missed our friendship more, since we knew each other since we were kids.”

They nodded, before agreeing that they should stop playing truth or dare and find another game. You were already exhausted, so you made it clear that you'll just head to sleep.

“But it's only 11,” Elisa pouted at what you said, disappointed that you won't get to spend time with her.

You were cleaning up around the sleeping bag to save up time from tomorrow morning. You peeped next to you and saw Elisa sitting there, “Hey again,”

She smiled at your voice and gave you a soft ‘hey’ back.

“I guess we should just talk before sleeping, yeah?” You teased her, feeling happy that you have company before sleeping.

“Yeah… I guess I wanted to just tell you that,” she paused, too lost in your eyes, making the conversation difficult for the both of you, “...you don't have to avoid Paul because of what he's doing to me.”

You frustratingly shook your head, “no Elisa. He's rude and annoying, I don't like people like that,” you looked down at your hands as you whispered the last part, “I just want a sweet, gentle…person who wouldn't mock or laugh at people”

Elisa nodded in understanding, before leaning down to meet your eyes, “Okay…I get it.”

You were grateful at the comfortable atmosphere you guys have, but a question was running in your mind as you bit your lip in thought, “Hey Elisa…I have a question,”

Elisa heard your timid voice, scooting closer to you to the point of your shoulders touching, “Yeah?”

“I know you like women,” you admitted quickly, looking at her eyes to see if there is any discomfort.

She grinned before replying, “one, that's not a question. That's a statement. Two, I think everyone knows that.”

You exhaled slowly when you realized she isn't uncomfortable with you knowing. And a slight blush came into your cheeks as you realized that she does like girls. Elisa likes girls! “umm… I didn't want to assume! After prom, I felt guilty for making you walk home alone so I went into your Facebook to check if you're okay and found a post that said something like… ‘I wish I knew how to talk to pretty girls.’... I guess I just connected the dots.”

Élisa's eyes widened, “wait…my Facebook account isn't private?!”

You quickly shook your head, mumbling a quick ‘nope’.

“Oh… I guess I have to change that. But oh well,” she shrugged on the last part.

Elisa can see you stare at her, and a feeling of panic started rising in her chest.

“Did your barber go on a holiday or are you trying a new haircut?” You joked, pointing at Elisa's longish hair now. It was covering her forehead and swooped to her right.

She laughed at what you said, raising her hair to make sure it looks neat, “I wanted to try something new.”

“It looks like Justin Bieber… you know the haircut. I don't know about the voice.”

She gave you a fake offended look, before replying, “well…do you think Justin is cute?”

You bit your lip in thought, “no…blonds aren't my thing.”

Elisa's eyes were locked with yours, she was starting to breathe heavily. Something in her is telling her that this conversation isn't just a random one, it means something. “What about brown haired people?”

Swallowing your spit before subtly biting your lip teasingly, “you mean brunettes?”

Elisa embarrassingly nodded, hoping that she doesn't look desperate waiting for your response.

“Brunettes are my type, yeah.” You gave her a grin, waiting for what she would do next.

“Good,” Elisa responded, involuntarily moving her hand to play with her hair again, “what about eyes?”

You blushed deeply, “I like brown eyes…soft and sweet to look at. Sometimes blue or green eyes are just too…sharp? Harsh? I don't know.”

Elisa hummed in agreement, turning her body slightly to glance at Marie and Fleur. She wanted to signal to them that maybe something is happening between you guys. But both of them were too busy playing Uno.

“Who do you find pretty, Elisa,” you breathed out, making Elisa turn to look at you in a flustered state, “what's your type in girls?”

Elisa clenched her jaw tightly while thinking. What was she supposed to say? That you're exactly her type? “I like brun- brunettes too. I like girls that are soft spoken and delicate, that care about others,” she was lost in thought as her fingers were playing with your bracelet, “long hair…I like it when they have long hair.”

You on the other hand were trying not to scream or run away. You didn't want to think highly of yourself, but that sounds like you right? You distractingly reached out for your long braid, waiting for Elisa to stop playing with her fingers and look at you.

When she didn't, you decided to ask her another question, “how did your parents react?...I mean if you came out.”

Elisa turned to look at you, “I didn't have to come out. I've always been this way,” she scratched her neck, “I mean… I never had long hair, always wanted to do the same thing as my brother. And I also had this obvious crush on a girl in my class when I was like 5 years old, they knew all about it.”

You nodded, “I can't imagine you with long hair.”

Elisa laughed, “I can't imagine myself with long hair, it would be a disaster.”

“So…are you bisexual, or a lesbian?”

Elisa eyebrows furrowed, how did you even know these terms? They weren't something you hear a lot in public, “I can't ever like a man…they're just ‘eh’.”

You giggled before scooting closer to her, “Okay.”

Elisa thought for a moment, “why do you like boys?”

You shrugged with a pout on your face, “I don't think it's a choice you know. But for now…I don't like any guy.” 

Elisa's body physically relaxed as she exhaled. Hearing that you don't like a guy right now made her feel hopeful, “Well…who from the class is the closest to your type?”

You rolled your eyes before crawling to the door and zipping it open, “I wonder what are they doing right now,” you stuck your head out, the cool wind making the small baby hair around your head fly. Elisa pulled the tent door more open to stick her head next to you too.

From the dim lights of the school and the moonlight, a slight shadow was seen from the ‘boys’ side of the pitch. It was clear the boys were wrestling, so Elisa made a joke, “wow, they're fucking already?”

You gasped loudly as you gaped at Elisa. She guiltily looked away from you with a quick, “sorry.”

You cackled before staring at the shadows again, “you know what? They're already shirtless.”

Her body relaxed near you and continued staring at them, “Ugh, they're so gross.”

“I don't even understand how they're shirtless in this weather.” You shivered at the thought of being naked in the weather.

Elisa turned to look at your thin t-shirt and whispered to you, “are you cold?”

You looked down at your shirt, “oh no…I'm fine.”

Elisa can read the lie in your face, she rolled her eyes as she started to remove the black jacket she was wearing over her plain gray shirt, “I can see you y/n,” she handed it to you, “it's January I don't know what you were thinking.”

You groaned in embarrassment, “they said this January would be hot! That's why they moved Camp Out to today…it was usually in March,” you wore her jacket, “it seems that I'm always cold around you.”

“And I'm always there to warm you up.”

You blushed as you shifted your body to face her, she smiled and did the same as now the both you were right in front of each other, “feeling cold isn't the only feeling I have around you.”

Elisa's eyes widened, she hopes that maybe you're referring to romantic feelings. She leaned in closer, looking deeply into your eyes, “what feeling?”

You sighed as you leaned in closer, “Elisa…you know it.”

Elisa smiled in satisfaction, internally thanking Mr.Nick for placing you in her camp group, “what? Feeling sad?”

You rolled your eyes, “no.”

Elisa sarcastically hummed in thought, getting closer to you as your foreheads were touching, “what feeling?”

You let out a huff, it's either now or never. Your eyes fluttered close and you leaned in to kiss her. Elisa barely felt your lips, it was obvious that you were nervous. But even with the softest touch, Elisa's eyes were automatically shut close as she exhaled from her nose.

You leaned back before muttering, “I hope that shows you what feeling.”

Elisa's smile was bright, she got closer to you before whispering, “I think I need more to clarify.”

She leaned in and captured your lips, this time it was a firm kiss. Elisa placed her palm on the back of your neck as she tried to deepen the kiss, but you shyly backed away.

Elisa would've felt offended if she hadn't seen your flustered state, she kept her hand on your neck as she waited for you to speak.

“Sorry…that was my first kiss, I got nervous.”

Elisa smiled in understandment, she knew the feeling too. Her reddish cheeks and shaky hand on your neck showed everyone around her that she was struggling to keep calm.

“It's my first kiss too.”

There was a moment of silence as the both of you were smiling at each other. You shakenly placed your hand at the back of her neck, softly tugging and playing with her hair.

Elisa's eyes closed as she sighed loudly, “I thought for the longest time that you didn't like me,”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “what? How?”

“...you were talkative to everyone but never talked to me.”

Elisa's insecurity was shown from her timid voice. You frowned in disappointment, “I never meant it that way…I guess I was too shy around you.”

Elisa lightly cuddled her head onto your shoulder. She was too shy to face you after the kiss, “Do I make you nervous?”

You lightly slapped her head, “dude you literally just said that I talked to everyone except you.”

Elisa gasped as she fake-glared at you, “don't ‘dude’ me!”

You sarcastically rolled your eyes and pushed her shoulder away from you, “whatever, I’m going to sleep now,” you covered yourself under the sleeping bag and closed your eyes, before whispering “goodnight.”

Elisa had a beaming smile, she leaned closer to your silhouette and gave you a soft kiss on your forehead, “Goodnight y/n…I don’t think I can sleep after this but I’ll try.”

With a soft smile, you fell asleep almost immediately. It felt like a heavy weight just dropped from your shoulder. Everything is different now, and you knew it too. You didn’t know what would happen in the morning or how things would work out with her, but it didn’t matter right now. The feeling of Elisa’s lips was still lingering on yours, and if you licked your lips you’d be able to taste the vanilla chapstick she always uses.

Elisa remained sitting next to your sleeping bag, she was heaving quietly from the shock of everything. Is this a dream or a joke? The idea of you being gay and liking her is making her internally jump in joy. She turned to Marie and Fleur, but the both of them were gaping at her. Fleur had a smirk while Marie had a look of disgust.

Elisa speed-crawled to the both of them, grabbing the Uno cards from their hands and shuffling them, “did you guys see that?”

“Yes?!” Fleur exclaimed, she smacked Elisa’s arm in a joking manner, “I can’t believe she’s gay…and she kissed you!”

“Shhh… guys I’m panicking, what am I gonna do?”

“Take it slow, we have around 4 months before the summer…If you’re not so annoying, you guys can date and when we have the U-17 tournament, she can come there with us and be like Victoria Beckham…absolute WAG.” Marie made a gesture with her hands for the girls to see the vision. But Elisa slapped them away, “You’re thinking of that summer tournament while I’m thinking of our first date. Marie, you’re so fucking useless oh my God.”

“okay…Elisa calm down,” Fleur intervened, she glanced back at your sleeping silhouette, “Eli…not to ruin your mood, but who says she’s gay? This could be some sort of phase or an experiment for her since you’re the first masculine girl she probably ever saw.”

Elisa’s smile dropped at what Fleur said, “That can’t be…she kissed me first.”

“Okay? She might be confused with her emotions.”

Elisa sighed loudly as she dropped her face to her hands, rubbing her face roughly, “It’s okay…we’ll take it slow. And if she doesn’t like me that way, she can tell me.”

Fleur gave her a tight-lipped smile and pulled her in for a hug, “yeah, that would be great.”

[thatmaxcontent]

East Blue Polycule, yeah? Let me headcanon-dump onto you, stranger who didn't ask for it!

They overall love one another equally (in their own unique ways), but they do have favorites (keep it a secret though 🤭🤫🫡).

Luffy doesn't favor anyone in particular, but he has the most fun with Usopp and the most 'emotional' (big quotes on that) times with Zoro.

Speaking of the Lettuce Demon, his favorite is obviously Luffy, I need not elaborate on this point. He was the first and he will be the last.

Sanji's favorites are Nami and Usopp, Nami in the more silly yet beloving sense. She'll often tease him for being such a simpy simp, but will happily give him some love every now and then. Usopp is constantly around, not just Sanji but the whole crew, and through that Nicotine Kicker kind of just got used to him being THE first one he'd go to (aside captainly stuff and such). They behave more like married folks who've been together for around 10 years most of the time, but this doesn't take away from Sanji's simpyness. Sanji simps for all his partners, but he only visibly does it with Nami and semi-visibly with Usopp. The other two are far more casual.

Nami's favorite is Vivi (surprise! I got this idea from another post, I don't remember the poster, but aaaugh I love it!!!), but out of the crew it's Usopp. Vivi and Nami are one-to-one, the blue gurl isn't dating anyone else. They keep in contact by constantly sending each other letters and SNÄILIN'!!! Usopp is Nami's crew-favorite because... well... they're besties. They bond over so much, and they're the most open in the relationship with one another (close second being Luffy and Zoro tied with Sanji and Usopp, followed by Luffy and Nami, ect ect).

Usopp's favorites are Nami (because of stated bonding) and Sanji (because of their incredible connection), but Luffy deserves an honorable mention as Usopp spends a lot of time and has a blast with him!! Sometimes they also take two-on-two time, rarely it can turn into a little bit of a quiet session, but usually they rave about future adventures and plans. Sometimes Luffy makes Usopp come up with a 'bedtime story', but it's just an excuse to see the sniper get so passionate and think about another adventure!

(This is also from that other poster, aaaaa thank you for infecting my brain with this incredible rot) Aside Vivi, Kaya is dating both Nami and Usopp! They rarely manage to talk, but when they do their sessions are long and if someone disturbs them it's game over for them!

Now onto the funsy headcanons!

Nami and Usopp browse magazines together on a daily basis (sometimes Robin joins them as the cool mother of the group), and they plan some cool and absolutely ✨️SLAY✨️ outfits none of them can ever wear.

Zoro and Sanji have a little bit of a play-competition going on constantly. They get genuinely pissed off by the other often times, but sometimes they make something a competition as an excuse to angrily make out against the kitchen wall (they definitely 'sword'fight about who tops)

Luffy doesn't completely process the relationship as a, well, romantic relationship. He's more in it for the good times, and because he loves the peeps! He's overall fine with more strictly romantically-viewed things, but sometimes he just doesn't want to. One second he will say "Zoro, crush me with your arms", the next he sees Franky and Robin (the cool parents) kissing and he goes "BLEUGH I'm going to need a shovel to transport this bullshit out of my mouth BLEHHHHHH"

Usopp is the most insecure and unstable in the relationship. He's very people-pleasery, while also trying to keep up a persona. If he ever emotionally talks it's usually to Nami, sometimes to Sanji within the relationship, but outside of it he confides in Franky (the awesome dadster) and Jinbe (the ultimately best grandpops). He tries to get better, but fails to realise how. He has fun with everyone, seeks to be around them at all times, but sometimes he can't help but disappear. If you don't see him at breakfast give him until lunch, at that point it's suitable to check-in. Who knows what the thoughts in his head have made him do.

Sanji has a dedicated notebook/ramblebook about each one of the peeps. Sometimes when he can't sleep, or someone just did something he found notable, he whips out a book and starts going "September 1st, 1989, dear diary-" oh shit, wrong fandom.

Zoro is the one that has to be dragged into things the most, he does go willingly as well but his solitude is important to him. This being said he usually doesn't mind Luffy or Usopp chilling around if he's laying back, sometimes they can ramble and do their own thing as well. A lot of the time it's just sitting and silently contemplating on things, with Usopp at least. If Luffy doesn't have stimulation for five seconds he'll gomu-gomu the ship.

Nami absolutely loves physical contact, but sometimes feels bad that she can't see her girlfriends and feel them around. In these cases she'll request some physical space until things have settled, but sometimes that can make her even more clingy. She usually seeks out Usopp, but will cling onto someone else if he isn't to be seen.

Luffy found a new appreciation for various relationship through the polycule. This also helped him think more healthily about his past, those who are gone and those who are alive. He's managed to settle some feelings, but a lot of experiences still hinder his head. He doesn't think about those things that much, and besides if he feels down he will quite literally start deflating. A quick munch of food, mention of stories or a good song will always cheer him right up.

Usopp actively leaves gifts for everyone around the ship (to the ones outside the relationship as well, but extra for the peeps). They're handmade, and they range from silly notes/drawings with cheesy jokes to actual equipment/tools and sometimes even clothing and jewelry.

I COULD GO ON FOR SO LONG, BUT IF YOU READ THIS FAR THANK YOU FOR BEING AN ENJOYER!!!! And drink some water, you're dehydrated you fucking amazing dewdrop angel baby

HAVE A GOOD TIMEZONE!!!

[bonemarrowrites]

To Rule The Roost

Contains:  M / M, Feral/monster x humanoid, dubcon, masturbation, voyeurism, fisting, bound, oviposition.

Explicit short story. A young fae wants to become a Gryphon rider, finding himself hired by a veteran flight master.

-=x=-=x=-=x=-=x=-=x=-=x=-=x=-=x=-=x=-=x=-=x=-=x=-=x=-

“Never expected to see an ash fae here. You’re kind rarely wanders away from your home isle. Yet, here you are, applying to be the gryphon aide under me. You do realize what that job entails, right?” Asked the flight master Trall as I sprouted back into the present, hearing griffins screeches outside the tall building had distracted me from the conversation.

Trall’s bulky human frame made his belly look like a large sack of flour as he sat on his chair and went through my papers. The Gryphon riders' colorful attire complimented his dark skin and made him look formal.

“Yes,” I answered and nodded enthusiastically to drive my point home, “I’ve always wanted to be a rider and someone told me this is a great way to learn the basics, before applying to the academy.” Before coming here, I had memorized a long list of useful lies to make myself the perfect candidate.

“I see…” Trall muttered back to me with a curious expression on his plump face. 

“Skinny boys like you can’t withstand the wind,” he blurted like he was trying to see my reaction.

“I don’t need to withstand it, I’m delicate enough to go through the wind wall without feeling a thing,” I rebutted, attempting to sound confident. My answer made the flight master snort, but he still looked unsure.

“Why not just go straight to the academy? They teach all you need to know and without. Assigning here might look good on your application, but it will only prolong your graduation if you’re even worth the effort. Taking the exam is the best way to get it,”  Trall’s tone sounded dismissive like he was talking to a young child who didn’t know any better. He didn't know I had taken the exam, thrice, and had failed each time. I knew I could cheat when I took it the next time, but I had to make sure my record showed that I had been somewhere where I might have learned the ropes. This was my only chance.

I composed myself, before telling him another one of my lies, “I believe if I want to be good at something I should learn as much as I can from those who actually work in the field. Teachers at the academy might teach me theory, but the real learning happens here.”

“You’re not going to learn how to fly without the academy’s approval,” Trall declared as if I didn’t already know that.

“I know, but I’m going to do other work, right? The Gryphon riders must also know how to take care of their steed.” The flight master's unwillingness had surprised me. The amount of promised payment had been significant, especially considering how little experience was required, but I was sure his aides' job wasn’t too hard to handle. After all, I had gotten this far, my letter must have made some sort of impression. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have wanted to see me and made me go through an extensive healer’s inspection.”

“I see,” he muttered again, giving one last glance at my papers. “You’ve been an adult for three summers now and your letter was very passionate, consider yourself hired.” The flight master stood up and held his hand out to shake mine. Quickly, I gave him a firm handshake and looked directly into his deep brown eyes.

“Thank you, sire. I’ll make sure you will not regret this!” I stated. The flight master slightly lift his right brown. My enthusiasm must have been a little bit too much. Yet, I actually was ecstatic. The second part of my plan had worked and I was on my way to becoming a Gryphon rider!

Trall waved his hand .“Follow me, better get to work now than later. The last aide’s death has delayed our annual schedule and we’re in a hurry.”

I did not know that. The poster I saw never mentioned why they needed help, only that it was urgent.

“W-what happened to the last aid?” I asked with a concern in my voice.

“One of the griffins kicked him down from the flight pen. He had forgotten to change his clothes after tending another tiercel. They’re very territorial, you can’t put two males together without them getting aggressive with each other. Skilled riders must be dominant and assertive when flying in formations, we can’t have fights within the group.” Trall’s explanation sounded reasonable to me. I made sure to remember that.

As we ascended the long flight of stairs, I took in the view. Even though we were in the mountains, the air here was hot. The warm desert wind blew right into the mountainside and the sun scorched the black rock paving it, making the air dry and sweltering. Had we stayed in the open a little bit longer, I’d surely been burned. My light grey skin was not meant to be under the sun.

“The health of these beasts is very important to me and it is your job to help me keep them healthy and happy. You could say your job is almost as important as mine.” Trall glanced behind as he said it and waited for my reaction.

“As it is to me, sire! A healthy force is a strong force,” I said smiling and the flight master shot a small smile back at me. I was getting through to him.

Trall led me into one of the keep’s many spires and to a wide, round room.

There was a large opening on the wall, which was decorated with a carved stone arch with a small bell hung next to it. It was meant for the griffons, they’d fly in one by one when the bell rang for… Some reason. I honestly didn’t know why.

Various tools were hanging on the wall and there was a chair placed next to them. In the middle of the large room, there was also a tall sawhorse with a simple, but weirdly shaped, saddle with a long seat. It was facing away from the opening of the room. Long leather straps dangled from the saddle as the warm breeze made them sway slowly.

“I want you to clean and polish that saddle,” the flight master commanded, “Taking care of it is a significant part of your job.”

As Trall sat on the chair I grabbed a few items from the wall and climbed the sawhorse to reach the saddle. With a clean rag, I began to wipe the saddle. My mother used to be a well-known leatherworker and she took me with her when she worked in her workshop. The skills I learned had become handy.

Trall watched me work from behind, leaning into the backrest as I focused on my work. Secretly, I tried to take a peek to see, if he was pleased with my performance and I saw him rub his crotch with his hand.

My cheeks flashed red and in my shock, I turned away acting like I hadn’t seen anything, still talking about how important each step was when it came to working with good leather. I heard him mumble in agreement and out of my curiosity took another peek.

The flight master’s clothed member was getting hard and he let out quiet moans while caressing his balls with his other hand. Unsure where he was looking I saw him lick his fat lips in arousal. I began my next step when I heard him get up and walk towards me.

“You’re very good,” Trall said and put his other hand on my shoulder. I was too embarrassed to turn to look at him, “It usually takes a long time for aides to learn the proper leather care.” With me standing leaning on the sawhorse, we were about the same length. I could hear him still rubbing himself as he stood behind me.

“That’s good. Hand me the tools and climb on top. You need to learn how to sit properly.” The flight master said and I handed him the items I had in my hands without looking at him. I mounted the saddle and was now slightly higher than him, feeling kinda relieved that he could reach me. Trall returned each tool to its rightful place and walked back to face me. He had stopped pleasuring himself and took one of the leather straps into his hands. Through his pants, I could see still his half-erect member.

“Lean forward,” he commanded and I did as he said, fearing what he might do to me.

Quickly, he pulled the strap over my head and buckled it tightly around my neck.

“Sire! What is this?” I yelped alarmed.

“I’m showing you the ropes. Your job is to tend my beasts and the only way to learn it is by doing.”

The flight master walked around me, tying me firmly to the sawhorse as I tried to resist. 

“Please, let me go! I will take care of the griffons, I swear! I will do my job!” my pleads fell on deaf ears, as Trall’s straight face turned to a smirk.

“My boy, that you will. This is the job,” he replied and patted me to make sure every strap was holding me down. The flight master then tore my clothes off with a knife, leaving me prone. I was bent over the saddle seat, legs wide apart.

“I knew immediately you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into when I met you, but as I said, our situation here is urgent and you were so ardent about this job.” with glee in his voice he added, “... And the best part is, according to your health report, you’re perfect for the job.”

I struggled against my bonds, the saddle seat rubbed against my naked shaft and nipples, slick from the musky polish I had applied mere moments ago. The leather felt slightly coarse and every move made me grind against it. Struggling made me pant from the heat and sweat ran down my back. I was fatigued, and as I stopped, realized that if I didn’t move too much, my posture felt rather good. The seat was long enough to support me without putting strain on my body.

The flight master had retrieved more tools from the wall.

“This will be much easier if you relax, but I warn you, the first time is always the worst,” he snarked and walked behind me, before I could ask any questions he slathered my hole with thick oil and pushed three fingers inside of me. I yelped in surprise and thrust forward, my body stroked my nipples and cock against the coarse surface of the seat making them hard. Trall stretched my hole wider and wider, adding more fingers each time he assaulted me and each time I thrusted forward involuntarily, stimulating my body even more. My cries turned into whimpers.

“The beasts won’t be as careful as I am, you need to learn to loosen up quickly, otherwise it will be painful,” The flight master attested. Soon he managed to push his whole fist into me, making my hole wider than ever before. While vigorously moving his fist, ramming it against the end of my tunnel, Trall began to pleasure himself again.

I sucked in a breath as the constant strain on my cock made me shoot cum between my body and the saddle. The flight master seemed pleased and pulled his fist out, leaving my gaping hole open. He walked towards the stone arch and rang the bell.

“You better get ready, your true test is just about to begin,” Trall laughed and walked back to sit on his chair. He dropped his pants, pulled his cock out and kept massaging his balls as a sudden whoosh of wind flew over me. I heard a loud screech and turned to look. 

There it was. A large male griffin, folding its huge wings as it stomped toward me, looking curiously at its new servant. Long talons scratched the wooden floor with each long step. The oil Trall spread on my ass must have had something in it, the griffon’s large phallus flopped out of its pouch when it sniffed me. The cone-shaped thing almost touched the floor, already glistening with wetness. The beast shrieked loudly as it lifted its feline front paws on the sides of the sawhorse. The griffon bit my neck with its beak, the thick leather strap around my neck protected me from the damage, but the clutch made breathing harder.

“Oh, and don’t worry!” I heard Trall’s voice from across the room, “They might have feline legs, but their cocks are not barbed”

I whimpered as the creature began brutally pumping its member between my cheeks. The saddle was crafted so it slightly lifted my lower body up, it was meant to make anyone laying on it easier to enter, but the beast trying to mount me kept rubbing its cock on me. I whimpered beneath the monster as Trall watched my attempted breeding with exhilaration.

The tip of the griffin’s rod hit my entrance making me gasp in surprise. The next thrust missed it until finally, it impaled me deep within, the whole length of it disappeared in me until its knot pressured my opening. My tied body rose slightly as the shaft made my belly bulge from its girth. I screamed loudly until the beast bit my neck harder, making my voice fade.

Griffin re-adjusted its back paws before it pulled out and hilted its cock back in within me. The sawhorse below us tilted back and forth with each push. The agitation stimulated my whole body, building pleasure inside of me. Like a rutting animal, the monster showed no mercy towards my abused body. I spasmed from the frantic pumping, bending my tied legs as much as I could, making them numb. My opening milked the beast's shaft as its engorged balls smacked against my thighs.

The flight master admired the scene in front of him, pleasing himself while he watched me being broken in. His balls twitched as his throbbing cock shot string after string of white cum into the air. His chest heaved from the bliss, making his whole fat body shake. As he regained control over his body, he walked to me, his limp rod hanging free.

My mind had blanked as I limply laid beneath the monster, moving like a ragdoll on a string, when the beast drilled deep into me. With one last forceful thrust, it secured itself inside of me and let out a loud roar. The flight master laughed and cupped my face into his hand.

“Now you get to experience the best part,” he said, puzzling me with his words momentarily, “The Males of this breed carry eggs to be fertilized by the females. He’s going to fill you up.”

My eyes widened as I felt the first bulbous shape pressing against my hole. As it passed through, a scorching sensation filled me when the egg was pushed deep within my gut, assisted by flowing hot goo. Another one entered me, making my eyes roll back from the pleasure. I teared up when the beast kept me tightly in its grasp, laying eggs into me one by one. My bulging belly expanded pushing me further away from the saddle, only stopped by the leather straps holding my body down. 

Trall pushed his face against mine and forced his tongue in. Kissing me passionately. 

The griffin must have put at least six eggs inside me, before pulling out, the tip still leaking goo. Satisfied, it flew away, leaving me alone with Trall. I was tired as he carefully removed my bindings and lifted me from the saddle to the floor.

“Don’t worry, my boy” he said, there was care in his voice, “We will take them out after you’ve rested and then sell them to another breeder. You’ve done good.” Trall gently petted my enlarged belly, holding me in his arms, “Tomorrow, you know what to expect and will be prepared for the next breeding,” he whispered tenderly. 

I thought about the academy and about my dream of becoming a Gryphon rider. Now, I had another goal.

I couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

[miokki]

# CHOCOLATES

✰ synopsis: valentine’s day with your secret high school sweetheart

✰ character(s): scaramouche x gn!reader, tartaglia

✰ content warnings: nothing

✰ note: happy late valantine’s day! (i forgot to post it yesterday) also if it seems a little rushed it is bc it is. school!au btw.

if there was anything scaramouche hated more than sweet things, it was the day that seem to be filled with them. valentine’s day always repeats itself for the boy, at least since he started high school that is.

this year appeared to be no different, he could already see the first waiting for him at his locker with a box of chocolates. in past years, scaramouche would’ve tried to refuse gifts but after weighing up his options, he’s found that it’s easier to just accept people's gifts rather than outright refuse. the tactic has been working well as he now has fewer problems and the people appear to be okay after the initial rejection.

even after three valentine's days of countless confessions and an overload of flower petals he still has no clue what to do with all the chocolates. he’s figured out what to do with all the teddy bears and he just keeps flowers at home. yet there’s nothing that comes to mind when he needs to get rid of the leftover chocolate his mother won’t even eat. and as much as he hates chocolate or any kind of sweets for that matter, he hates to see food go to waste.

as of right now, scaramouche is eating by himself while working on something in his homeroom. it’s one of the only places he can find escapism at this moment in time due to his popularity amongst the girls. scara doesn’t get it. he doesn’t get why most of the girls at the high fawn over him, he isn’t anything out of the norm. but what do they know? all they see is some boy that always trails behind that group at school. coincidentally, childe doesn’t get it either, he is just as aloof as any other of the loners at this school. the only difference is that he's conventionally attractive.

“how many do you have so far?” childe asks as he barges into the room

scara lifts his gaze to see the redhead gleaming at him from across the room while walking up to his desk.

“23 girls and one boy,” the boy answered as he looked childe up and down.

“a boy too? damn, i'm jealous, i've only managed four and not a single boy in sight,” the tall one whined as he leaned himself against the desk beside scaramouche’s.

“i can see why there hasn't. you act more interested in mr zhongli than any of your classwork.”

“don't start getting cocky with me. i am the sole reason you can eat in peace.”

scaramouche chuckles, “so what did you end up doing?”

childe watches as scara takes another bite into his sandwich before relaxing back into his chair. he hasn’t been in this good of a mood since his mother came back from her trip with her girlfriend. even before, scara has never been this friendly towards him, not that he minds it of course. he's enjoying the conversation they're sharing. childe just wishes that he could see this side of him more often.

“ah. i didn't do much, i just told your fangirls that you were hanging around the fountain on the south side of the school. i have no idea why you'd hang there but they believed it.”

scara sighs, “i told you before, they're not my fangirls,” the dark-blue-haired boy glared.

“but it's true!” the tall boy exclaimed.

“they squeal when you walk past and when i told them you were near the fountain they fucking ran. i swear if you started selling posters of your face they'd sell them out in an instant. it’s like you’re whole of one direction to them. i wouldn't blame (name) if they ever got jealous.”

despite the last sentence being mumbled, scaramouche heard just enough to freeze. he’s sure he didn’t slip up, well not in any area he is aware of. perhaps you told childe, but you rarely even talk to scara himself during the school day so that isn't an option.

“what? you look like you've seen a ghost. you aren't that hard to figure out scara. your eyes drag when they're close by, you never give anyone that time of day,” the redhead explains.

“anyway,” childe sighs as he gets up from the desk, “hey you wouldn't mind if I take a few boxes from your stash, i wanna give something to tonia, teucer and anthon.”

“all yours.”

“thanks, buddy,” the orange-headed boy smiled as he ruffled scaramouche’s hair.

scaramouche waved him off as he exited the room, which left him in this lone classroom. the boy sighed as he started to settle back down into what he was originally doing. picking back up his pen to start writing until he was interrupted once again.

knock, knock.

looking over for the second time to see you poking your head through the doorway. “childe told me you here by the way.” you beam as you let yourself in. it makes his heart flutter; your smile. it’s sweet, the genuine kind, as opposed to chocolate which needs sugar to mask its bitterness. to him you’re like dark chocolate. the kind that isn’t overly sweet. and though still bitter, that's the part he enjoys most.

“do you want some?” scara offered as he waved the assorted box of chocolates in front of you. “i got them on the way here,” the boy clarified just in case. “sure,” you shortly responded before snatching the box from his grasp. “so you told childe?” you asked as you started to tear the plastic wrapping around the box. “i didn't tell him anything,” he begins as you inspect the packaging of the chocolate. turning over the box you notice the price sticker is still on.

“wait, 10,000 mora?” the boy pauses his explanation to look at you, “kuni, your fangirls are treating you so well. you should go thank them,” you teased as you placed one of them in your mouth. “mmh, I will say, they’re are worth at least half of all that mora, the texture is lovely.”

the upturned corners of scara’s lips are now apparent as he watches you devour most of the chocolate. he’s glad you enjoyed them otherwise he wouldn’t know who else to turn to. in all honesty, scaramouche feels strange, this year valentines aren’t like all those years before. he still is bombarded with tens and tens of gifts however he has someone to go to after school rather than home alone this year. and though he is at peace, he still has one more thing on his mind.

“do my uh— fan.. girls bother you?” the boy blurts out.

you almost spit out your chocolates yet you end up choking on them instead. after calming down you decide to speak, “is that what's been on your mind the entire time? don't tell me. did childe say something that made you think that?”

“n-no.”

quickly, you get up from your seat to wrap your arms around your boyfriend's slim figure, “aw my poor baby, there's no need to worry.” you pout, your body hanging over his shoulders.

“i wasn't worried,” scara denies.

“aww, my prince was worried. there's no nothing to be ashamed of, i'll have you know i have my own set of fangirls, so if you were to be worried i’d hope it would be that instead.” scara only shakes his head in shame before taking the last chocolate from the box. notably faster than you did. “I thought you said you didn't like sweet things.” you questioned, raising him a brow as you waited for a response.

“i don't but this one's dark chocolate.”

do not copy of repost any of my works

@ miokki 2023

[grapejuicestyless]

i have had this idea for so long, but i really think you could do this justice. sort of like the film the holiday!!! but not really set in Christmas and more so through the seasons. harry moves out of the city (doesn’t need to be a singer and could just be a CEO) into a small village in a lovely cottage where all of the furniture is mismatched and there’s sash windows which are always open. He’s there for a few months before he starts to feel lonely so decides to bring in a lodger! He hand makes posters and puts them on the village hall board and … he finally gets a taker! It’s a quirky girl who is totally all over the place and she moves in .. the seasons change and so does their relationship.. friends to lovers OR ACTUALLY maybe it could be so interesting for it to be enemies to lovers! That could be fun to write. But idk I’ve been thinking about it for so long !!! They could organise a dinner party for friends one night or maybe Harry goes away to the city for a meeting and that’s where y/n realises how much she misses him / likes him. Definitely has to be fluffy but also needs to have some drama. I haven’t figured that out yet 😭😭😭 I’m so sorry for this really long rambly post but I wanted to give u as much of my brain as possible lol. I would LOVE LOVE LOVE to see what you would do with this / if it’s something you’re even interested in. Have a gorgeous evening / day / morning xxx love you!!💖💖💖💖💖

Bad People

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Harry and Y/n met by pure luck. Sharing secrets and laughing like little kids, ribs and cheeks hurting. Y/n is sure Harry is destined to be in her life forever. She’s just not sure when that became a bad thing.

FLANGST/FRIENDS TO ENEMIES TO LOVERS

The pale blue sky looked gray from certain windows. The glass was cracked and the stove stained with boiled over soup broth and old sprinklings of spices.

The birds sang solemnly, humming the tune to what I believed sounded like something you’d hear at a funeral. Here, the pavement was cracked and the stars were consistently covered with clouds. Snow, more often than not, fell heavily. From October to April. The nearby ocean nearly always too cold to swim in. The backyard pool cold and clean, still with nobody to inhabit it.

All the beauty ripped from the earth, and replaced with another kind of it. I wouldn’t mind it half as much, if I had someone to enjoy the snow with. To enjoy the polar plunges, the visible breath and numb fingers.

Like old times sake, snowmen and snowball fights. Sledding or fort making. Rosy cheeks and icy hair a memory of the past. Cheeks hurting from smiles, not the winter chill.

The laughter of my mother was long gone, and my brother outgrew his desire for a sibling as soon as he turned sixteen. Few friends, not any at least, that would enjoy the activities the white powder offered.

So now, I look out the window, nursing a glass of wine propped up on the windowsill. I don’t see the snow day ahead or pray for a white Christmas. I pray that one day, I’ll find someone to enjoy it with me. To soothe the pain little eight year old me suffered with the absence of her father, her distant mother and her selfish brother.

“Looking at it won’t make it fall any faster, Y/n.” The puff of air coming from my nose fogs up to cool glass, and my fingers leave prints along the center.

He’s not looking at me, he rarely does when we aren’t fighting. It’s like I disgust him. I feel like a fool every god damn time.

“Have you always naturally been an asshole or did you grow into it?” I don’t look at him, but I feel his gaze settle on my reflection in the glass. His voice alone urges me to take a large drink from the wine glass. The ruby red staining my top lip. I spread it around and taste the bitterness of it on my tongue.

He begins to leave, almost succeeding without a passing glance, but biting his tongue is something Harry nor I have ever been able to do. So it’s natural how he goes for the last word.

“Theres only so much wine, Y/n.” He teases. I down the rest while he walks away. The sigh that leaves my mouth after I feel the ghost of him leaving me isn’t only for air, but because suddenly the room feels lighter.

It’s funny, how someone so special can leave such a disgusting taste in your mouth. Hatred doesn’t just happen. It creeps, seeps, saturates. It’s a pesky little thing that starts small until finally you can’t ignore how bothered you are. It’s vile and cruel. A poisonous little thing that no one is immune to. It’s a sad yet funny thing. To remember that it wasn’t always like this. I didn’t always hate my old friend, bounded to me through the home we share. I once enjoyed the company of Harry styles.

It was nearly a year since I’d moved in. A year since the snow turned to thick ice and roads became bare with people too afraid to try and navigate through the harsh winter.

Nearly a year since I first saw the house at the end of the road, with a neat front lawn and a tree with hanging branches ready to snap.

A red scarf and red mittens is what I wore. With a faded brown coat and worn blue jeans. A hat on top of my head and a journal tucked underneath my arm. He had the greenest eyes I had ever seen. The stars in the night sky didn’t quite shine as bright as his eyes, I swore it to myself.

He had an english accent, one that I wasn’t familiar with. Peach fuzz and dark chocolate curls a mess on his head. When I told him my job, he laughed, but something about his shocked expression after told me he didn’t mean it cruelly. Rather, that he was shocked, or just piecing the puzzle together.

“I’m my mother’s daughter.” I told him, “She always had a thing for poetry. The sappy ones with the tragic endings. I got it from her and I’m damn good at it.” I smiled at him then, and he smiled back bigger.

“It’s just funny. Moving somewhere so quiet for a job all about fantasy and adventure.” He explained, already guiding the two of us through the wide doorway. I set my boots in the old entryway which it seemed he had turned into a mud room. I admired the shade of green on the wall and nodded along. My cheeks hurt from smiling.

That night, while settling into my new space, I shared with him my life. My goals and dreams. With his toothy smile and boyish eyes, he made it so easy to trust him. I sat on my newly made bed and he sat in my spinning chair by my desk. Moving it back and forth, swaying slowly. A cigarette started dangling from his pocket, I still remember the way he took it between his thumb and his index finger. Rolling it around, debating whether or not to light it. It was like he didn’t know he had it.

“I didn’t take you for a smoker.” I laughed at him, he laughed back. Shy almost, only looking at me for a moment.

“M’not. A few here and there. Helps to wind down.” When he ran his hand through his hair, I remember seeing all his rings. A rose and two with his initials. One looked like a lion. That one was my favorite.

Other than his charming smile and infectious laughter, I knew nothing of him, I had come to realize. Here he was, knowing about my family and friends. My job and my hobbies. All I had asked him was his name.

When I asked him, he was just as talkative as I was. A sparkle in his eyes when he talked about his job. I remember specifically, how they lit up extra bright when he mentioned his mother, Anne, and his older sister, Gemma. I learned about his job too. Harry had everything he could ever truly want. The money, the power, the glory. His office at the top floor overlooking the bustling city that never sleeps. Families dancing around the square and traffic backed up into the city line.

The sad thing was, that even with all this pride he got to carry with his reputation, the city was no home to him. The summer held no comfort. Not the same now that he was long out of school. The heat was simply uncomfortable. His lavish suit sticking to his skin. Even the air conditioner couldn’t soothe the pounding of his head against the strong New York heat.

His nose stung in the summer. The warmer it got, the worse it smelled. Garbage littering the streets no longer covered by thick snow. Tourists and their children filling up all his favorite places of relaxation. Each carrying their own scent from home. The calming pine from the North or the tangy citrus of the west coast.

Harry felt no true love for his home anymore. No real attachment. There was no smell of home, and there certainly wasn’t any old faces with their gravelly voices and thick accents. If it weren’t for the business there, he would’ve fled somewhere else long ago. Somewhere quieter. Somewhere that felt like home. If he could, he would have tucked himself back into the small home his mother raised him and his sister in. He would’ve curled up happily in his twin bed and looked out the same crooked window each night and feel happy with only that.

He tells me that when he got in the car waiting for him at the airport, he was tempted to tell the driver to take him home, to see if it would make him smile. He’d seen the gag used in all the old rom-coms he and his mother used to watch. The short blonde running from the love of her life only to be led back into his arms. But Harry know’s better. He tells me so. So when the driver asks him where to, he tells him the address.

He told me about his work life. How there was a branch out in the UK. The one that started it all. And as his success grew, so did his aspirations and his needs. London no longer provided him with the luxury and opportunity that New York could. So he swapped out his office for a penthouse and acted like the smell of burning garbage and mysterious wet spots on the sidewalks didn’t bother him.

It’s a vicious cycle. To outgrow, to long for, to move, to hate all over again. Thats how he decided that London has just what he needed. His business within reach and smaller towns surrounding its borders.

“And what about now? Are you happy?” Harry crinkled his eyes then, smiling a nodding along. He didn’t even mind it then, when I would interrupt. In fact, he welcomed it. Claimed he loved hearing me talk.

I agreed with him when he said that the grass is greener down here. The stars are just that much brighter and theres not a single car honking their horn past nine. All things that left him feeling a whole lot calmer than the chaos of the city.

Here, Harry told me he didn’t mind not living in a lavish penthouse just a few blocks away from his work. Here, he was hours away from the city. He stays in a medium sized cape cod styled house, pre-decorated from the past owners who didn’t care to take their things when they left for something bigger. It sticks out from the rest of the homes nearby. He wonders how something so different ended up within the same area. And he smiled and sat on the floor when I laughed and told him he’d already lived quite the life for a nearly-thirty year old man.

When silence took over after over an hour long conversation, I bit at my nails and looked at the floor. Suddenly, it came to me.

“Harry?” I had asked. He hummed, looking at me. Even if I hadn’t looked back, I could still feel his eyes on mine. “What made you want a roommate?” When my eyes flickered up to his, I saw no hate, or disgust, or shame. Nothing that I am familiar with now in Harry’s eyes. I saw curiosity, warmth and happiness.

“I like the quiet. I like being able to sleep without someone yelling down the hallway. I like how green it is over here.” I nodded, waiting for him to continue. “But the quiet get’s lonely. And while I like the quiet, I hate being alone.” And it made me smile back then. Maybe it still does thinking about it know. He had been helping me in finding a home, some place warm to stay. Meanwhile, I had been able to give back. Give him what he wanted. At the time, my heart warmed.

For a long time after that, Harry made my heart beat fiercely. He brought me flowers and made us pancakes. Freshly picked blueberries from the local market. He cracked jokes and I repeated them back between our broken laughter, imitating his english accent.

He was a charming man, with an energy that invited and kept you drawn to him. Everyone wanted to be around Harry. The men and the women. Always wanting a piece of the pie. I felt rich in life, that while others had to work for a lifelong friendship with him, naturally, we fit together. We worked.

He entered my life by some kind of coincidence. I needed a place to stay and he was offering a room up.

When he brushed his thumb over my knuckles and kissed the skin, I believed we would be like this forever. Just the two of us.

When he whispered to me that he loved me that same night, I thought it was something he would never take back. Something that would never change. His warm breath and glistening eyes. He was red and shiny. A bottle of the cheap champagne sat on the table and an empty glass beside him. I let his lips trail around my hand and laugh at his antics.

“Harry.” I mumbled into the darkness, he doesn’t move. I silently giggle again after he puffs air out of his own nose onto my hand playfully. His shoulders shake with his own fits of laughter, “Harry.” I call out again, and my eyes are met with his dazzling emerald ones. I almost got lost, forgot how to talk looking at him.

My palms were sweaty with nervousness then. My heart beating out of my chest. I wanted more than anything to tell him everything. As a poet, it should have been easy to put my thoughts out in the open air. But they hadn’t sat within me for long enough to curate a straight forward answer.

How would I even manage to start on how beautiful I thought his brown hair was? Perfectly colored like milk chocolate treats that curled over his forehead. Or his toothy grin which pulled butterflies from the pit of my stomach and made me feel lighter? I couldn’t find just one thing to focus on. And the words that came out of my mouth tumbled out quickly.

“You’re my best friend.” I hoped that he would’ve been able to see how much love I held for him in my face. How even in the dim lighting of only the fireplace and the fading lamp in the corner, he could see how they sparkled just for him.

He pulled his hand away after that, clearing his throat and nodding. But he smiled so softly after that I didn’t see how his eyes welled up with tears. I only saw his perfectly pink lips and his rosy cheeks. For once, I wasn’t focused on his eyes, and I paid the price.

He never made pancakes for us after that night. Nor did he ever pick flowers from the fields or crack jokes until our stomachs hurt. My hand was never slotted between his and my head didn’t rest on top of his shoulders. He was colder, more distant. Quiet.

But the quiet grew old for us both. And the slipping away hurt more than anything I’d ever experienced. I was everyone else in his life. Fighting for a spot in the light so he would see me, smile at me, acknowledge me.

Part of me wondered why he never asked me to leave. To pack my bags and find another innocent man to love because he wouldn’t tolerate it anymore. But he never did. Harry hated being alone and I knew better than anyone else. I knew it because I was his best friend at some point. We shared the same breaths and drank from the same glasses. I wore his shirts and he used my hair clips. He kept me around not because he still wanted me, but because he still needed me. And the realization of it all hurts worse than the silence because it’s then I know that I’ve really lost him. It leaves me with the question, ‘What have I done to deserve this?’

I think back on that night when our world shifted on its axis and I go over every word that was said. I check for any signs of discomfort or anger and I find nothing. It plagues me with a new insecurity.

Maybe it wasn’t something I’d said, maybe it wasn’t something I’d done. Maybe the warmth from the champagne grew cold in his blood and the false euphoria from it all cleared from his peripheral vision and he realized that I was no longer enough. I was not what he wanted. The idea of his roommate becoming his only friend too pathetic for a man with such power.

Soon after, I stop putting up a fight. I stop fighting for a spot in his life and I stop trying to win back a man that was never mine. I figured at least if he could never be mine and I would never be his, at least I still got to see his pretty face everyday. And I could imagine that we never drifted.

I wake in the night, I pace like a ghost. The tears running down my cheeks are hot, burning my skin until my throat dully aches and my chest is red with flakes of nail polish and the dragging of my nails clawing at my chest.

I am sobbing, broken and tired. I dream of a life that is not as miserable. I dream of a life where I no longer doubt the things I love. Where I don’t have to question my friend’s loyalty.

He knocks on my door, leaning against it in only his flannel pants. He has tattoos that compliment his skin so well. He looks like a painting. I’m relieved to see him again. Even if it’s under these circumstances.

I wait for him to speak, even if it’s merely a mumble. Even if I cannot understand.

“Can you stop crying? I can’t sleep.” He requests. My lips part and I swear my lungs collapse within my chest. I can’t breathe and somehow I remain composed.

“Okay.” I say quietly, nodding along and trying to find his eyes. They look at the floor, and his face is contorted like it pained him to say that to me. Like it was against his will. But he doesn’t even look at me.

When he leaves, I collapse, shoulder shaking with rage, sadness, confusion instead of the contagious laughter that once rang out through the halls.

I decide then, July moon shining through the sash windows of my room that I couldn’t continue holding onto Harry. My heart still beats for him and my eyes still sparkled when his own lingered for just a moment longer on me, but I couldn’t like him.

Hatred doesn’t just happen. It creeps, seeps, saturates. It’s a pesky little thing that starts small until finally you can’t ignore how bothered you are. It’s vile and cruel. A poisonous little thing that no one is immune to. It’s a sad yet funny thing.

After that night, his selfish wishes turn to bitter comments which turn to vicious attacks at my confidence. And my resilience and devotion to silence, to ignore the cruelty of it all is worn thin. My bitten tongue is freed and I am betrayed by my own words. My own comments targeted at his deepest hurts. It’s a mutual hate between us, a mutual dislike.

We live within the same four walls, the same windows and creaky roof over our heads. We cook in the same kitchen and we sit on the same couch, but we cannot stand each other anymore. The house is no longer filled with love, and the warm heat turns to bitter cold. And yet, neither of us have the guts to leave.

We sit here, in a life thats so mean to us just because we are afraid of the loneliness that is surely to come with the other’s absence.

We are here, but we aren’t present. It makes me laugh, it makes me wonder.

Who could ever leave me? But who could stay?

The candles burned down to the floor, wax melting over the wood as the lights set a warm, homely mood for the night. The late December rush throughout the town turned to the few and far between searching for last minute supplies to ring in the new year. It’s peacefully still outside, and the dining room looks so nice I forget why the candles burn and our nicest plates are set out.

Harry insisted on having a small gathering with some of our friends to celebrate the new year before he went away for sometime for work. Being roommates, despite our lack of interest in establishing our own friendship, his friends become my friends and mine become his. It’s a fairly large group that was once two. But have now become so closely intertwined that it seems hard to differentiate who was friends with who first.

There was wine, pastas and breads. Hams and potatoes. Drinks and endless desserts. It felt nice, to have all those people we cared so deeply about chip in and help to create such a lovely meal for the few of us.

Hearing that first doorbell ring to see all of our friends stood proudly on our crooked doorstep made my heart flutter. Sarah, Mitch, Pauli, Elin, Charlotte, Nyoh. All holding various foods to add to the never ending supply on the multiple tables set in a row.

“Harry! Y/n!” The enthusiasm from our friends seemed to lighten the mood, letting the heavy feeling of heated arguments and constant anger slip down my back and into the farthest part of my brain.

It was times like these where I’d forget how to hate. How to spread anger and disgust to someone who clearly showed none of it in return in these times. Here, Harry was talkative. Always plastering on a fake smile and wave.

He was good at pretending. And while the walls of the house had seen a different story, those around us were innocent, forever unknowing of how Harry constantly belittled me, bothered me. Of how I was no better. How my tongue was sharp and my words shot to kill.

Nobody minded the difference in height of the dinning room table against the kitchen table. How one was round and the other a rectangle. Both covered by one long table cloth. Nobody minded the soft music in the background or how the light wasn’t the brightest. The soft flickers never mentioned.

We let the candles burn until they had nothing left to give, and we ate until it was bare and our stomachs hurt. Here, I never felt like I was trapped. Here, I remembered why I came to live with Harry in the first place. And I was thankful. It was times like these I couldn’t help smiling like an idiot. Cheeks sore and eyes crinkling. I would laugh at just about anything, trust anyone and agree with everything.

“When are you going to tell him?” An elbow to the ribs pulled my gaze from the end of the table, my smile dropping for only a moment at the sudden shock.

“Sorry?” I mumbled softly into Sarah’s ear. Her eyes glimmered with something mischievous, like she knew something that I didn’t. She licked her pink lips and looked briefly back to the end of the table. All the way over by the dining table, sat a few feet away and a couple inches higher, was Harry. Laughing and talking with Pauli and Elin about anything and everything. I couldn’t quite make it out over the soft chatter of Mitch and Charlotte and the clinking of forks on plates.

“Harry!” She called softly. When my eyebrows furrowed she rolled her eyes, sighing heavily.

“I don’t get it.” Forking another bite of vegetables into my mouth, I watched her fight for the right words to say. Her lips finally settling on the soft smile I knew very well.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/n. I know that look. Better than anyone. Thats how I look at Mitch.” She playfully nudged my shoulder. Did she believe that I held any romantic feelings for Harry? I couldn’t, it was impossible. Right?

His rude remarks and his mean demeanor. Sure, at one point my heart beat for the brunette with an infectious smile and shiny green eyes, but now it was a memory of the past. Another pretty face who had thrown away all of his charm and care and exchanged with unwavering cruelty.

“Oh, no. Sarah, I don’t think about him that way.” I tried to wave her off, trying to sound the least amount disgusted by her assumption. I couldn’t help but wonder why she thought that.

“I don’t believe you.” She sounded smug, crossing her hands on my thigh and giggling. “You don’t have to. I believe myself.” Brushing her off, I take another bite of any remaining scraps on my plate. Trying to avoid conversation.

“Come on, you seriously don’t see it?” She sounded exasperated now, even more so when I nodded carelessly. She was getting tired of my avoidance to the conversation, my disinterest in her false discovery. Still, the longer she pushed, the more I felt the heat rush to my face. The more my cheeks burned and my skin tingled.

“I’m serious, Sarah. I don’t look at him in anyway. He’s just my roommate. Nothing more, nothing less.” I lean back, volume brought down to a mere whisper with the dying laugher at the other end of the table.

“Well, he’s your friend at least, right?” The lump in my throat was unswallowable. With the growing tightness in my throat and the clamminess of my palms. I wanted nothing more than to slip away and pretend this never happened. So, I bite my tongue and nod, eyes flickering to Sarah while I do so. I pray that she doesn’t see the tears welling in the corners and how glossy they’ve gotten in such a short period of time.

“Yeah, he’s my best friend.” The lie stings, burning as it comes out. Partially because I hate lying to my dear Sarah, but mainly because at some point it was the truth.

Harry was my everything at one point in my life. He might as well have hung the damn moon and stars. I thought the world of him, wanted nothing more than to feel his arms wrapped around mine all the damn time. And it killed me that we’d gotten so far away from that idea that I had to lie about even being acquainted with him.

“Word of advice.” She started, eyeing Harry carefully. My eyes remained glued to the table, fork wobbling between my pointer finger and my thumb. “Best friends don’t look at each other that way.” And when she finished what she wanted to say, I swear my heart just about stopped. All color draining from my face and my eyes rapidly blinking away the tears by now.

Setting my fork down, I ignore her playful smile and the nudge of her shoulder into mine. I look for another face to converse with, to make me begin to forget everything I was trying so desperately to escape. When I search the table, it seems like each person has found themselves in deep conversation with the other. All but one.

And his green eyes capture mine in a way I haven’t known in so long. I’d forgotten what it was like to be the center of his gaze. How thrilling it was. With my eyes, glossed over and heart beating through my chest, it seemed impossible for me to ever consider looking away. His chocolate brown curls and sweet pink lips in a gentle smile. It was consuming and alluring. Irresistible even.

A face that once disgusted me, shattered my heart, angered me and knocked me down with no air left to breathe seemed not all that frightening anymore. And the warmth that spread in my chest scared me more than anything.

I begin to realize, maybe Sarah was right. Maybe that was why I hated him so much. I didn’t hate Harry Styles. And thats why it hurt just that much more. I didn’t hate him at all, in fact. No, rather my poor heart couldn’t handle the heartbreak and deflected in the most malicious way possible. I missed my best friend.

“Y/n.” Sarahs voice pulls me from my haze, and my eyes are flickering over to hers quickly. Lips still parted and eyes still wide.

“You’re crying.” I hadn’t felt the salty heat dripping down my cheeks until she announced it. My skin too numb from embarrassment to even understand what was happening.

My tongue is tied, and my throat is killing me. I feel like I might vomit if I stay here any longer. I can’t be here any longer, I can’t do it. Not when I’ve just realized what I did. I feel what I felt all those months ago when Harry told me to stop crying. When he shut me out for good and became bitter. I feel all air leave my lungs and my knees wobbling. I am going to collapse.

“I just need air.” I say all too loudly, pushing out the chair clumsily and stepping back. The loud scratch of the wooden legs of the wooden floors turns heads and my heavy breathing tells me to get the hell out.

I pardon myself after that, waving off any concern from Sarah, and making sure nobody else saw my escape. Everyone’s still deep into conversation when I turn the corner. All but Sarah and Harry. But neither of them make a move to reach me. I let myself collapse on my bed, mascara running down my white sheets and back aching from how stiff I became at that table. I silently pray that I’ll sleep through the rest of winter.

When the dinner got cold and we’d all run out of things to say, we all look around and silently agree to part ways. It was nice to have some company, I enjoyed being around these people so much. My heart should have been full, yet it felt heavy and empty all at the same time. Littered with a guilt I wasn’t even sure was mine.

I’d seen the way she looked at me. Really looked at me. Glossed over eyes and a quivering lip. She was red with the rush of adrenaline in her blood. Anyone could see how quickly she began to breathe. It was like she was stuck, consumed by something so strong that it left her powerless, weak, crumbling quickly under an undetermined pressure. She started to cry, biting back a sob by biting harshly into her bottom lip, eyes shaking while she searched my face. I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. Who had said what, and how I could help her.

I wanted to yell at whoever hurt her this bad. And the feeling of that in itself was unsettling. How my heart still longed to comfort, protect the heart of the girl who once shattered my own with her own words. More than that, I wanted to scream when nobody followed her when she ran. How nobody cared nearly enough about why she was so upset.

I couldn’t understand why I was so invested in her. Someone I was sworn to hate. Someone I had teased and fought for months and let hurt me constantly in retaliation.

But then again, we were no better than one another. We never were. Always saying too little and not opening up quite enough. Creating issues instead of solving problems. We were explosive, nobody could hurt me quite like she could and yet, I felt horrible that she was so upset.

Like the day I’d found her pacing restlessly across the floor. Skin blotchy and eyes puffy with tears. Throat sore with the violent sobs ripping through them. I’d wanted to hold her then too, but I was too bitter to do anything but tell her to quiet down. I felt the same guilt in my bones. And I make the same mistakes I made the first time. I watch her break down and sit with the uneasiness of it all.

Mitch lays a hand over my shoulder, his other arm wrapped around Sarah as he leads her through the door. His eyes look sad and tired. But his smile is genuine and filled with concern.

“Check on Y/n for us okay? Sarah thought it would be best to leave her be for now.” His hand left my shoulder and the door shut quickly after. Leaving me with the unbearable silence and loneliness I felt so frequently nowadays. It breaks down my walls and scares the shit out of me.

Maybe thats why I make my way to the kitchen, shuffling slowly along the floors and leaning slowly over the makeshift tables. A bottle of rouge in one hand, a pack of cigarettes in the other. I stuff them in my pocket and hold the bottle close to my side.

I’m slow, delaying the inevitable question. When I knock on the door, it’s quiet. Almost like I’m hoping that if it’s soft enough, she won’t hear and I can pretend she was ignoring me. But, she does hear me, and she calls out a raspy, muffled welcome, signaling for whoever was hidden behind the door to come through and take in her puffy eyes and wet cheeks.

My throat tightens when I smell her perfume. Something that I would have drowned in not so long ago. She has clothes thrown on a chair in the corner, the same one I sat in so many months ago. I’m tempted to push them off and just sit in the silence with her like we once enjoyed doing.

Her head is in her pillow and her arms are underneath her. She is unaware of who she has let in, but her silence and unmoving body tells me she’s lost all ability to care. I want to leave. I want to turn around and convince myself it was all a mistake. I’d checked on her and she was still alive and well. I’d done my part and I could go on guilt free and forget about how crushed she’d looked just hours before.

When I begin to turn on my heels and pray for this day to be over, I see something unforgettable. A small Polaroid from last year. Just weeks after she’d moved in and charmed me with her beauty and whit. She’s sat with her legs over my lap and my arms around her body. We couldn’t be any happier, and the memory makes my chest sting.

She still cared enough to keep up the old memories of us, even after all the fights and mean glares. Why did she have to keep the damn photo up?

Guilt consumes me once again, and I am faced with the sad woman in front of me, still in the same place as before and just as sad as before. My feet betray my mind, and soon I am stood beside her bedside table with a bottle of wine dangling between my pointer finger and my middle finger.

The glass knocks against her shoulder in a silent invitation. My eyes wordlessly asking her to follow. Her eyes are red, and her lips still shake. She looks completely torn apart, desperate and distraught. Disheveled even. But for some reason in my blurry head, all I can think about is how absolutely beautiful she is in the pale moonlight.

“Come on.” I ask her softly, offering her my hand. When she takes it, she’s nodding already. Trusting a man who deserves no second chances, no trust whatsoever for his cruelty and his inability to communicate. But she follows regardless.

I can’t help but realize how having her so close feels good.

He lights the cigarette for me and watches as I let it burn. My lips twitch as they wrap around the end, tasting the bitterness of its contents and the dry paper.

“How did we end up here?” I ask him, looking over the horizon. The waves are calming over here. They almost silence the ringing in my ears, despite the distance between where we sit, feet dangling over the empty pool edge and the large grass behind it.

He shrugs, snagging the cigarette from my hand delicately and taking a long drag from its end. We swap, my hands wrap around the neck of the wine bottle. It’s tinted green and nearly full.

“Unlucky people, I guess.” He looks at his feet. They dangle in the pool beside mine. You can see just how close we are in the turquoise tint. How the lights make us look less vibrant.

“I wouldn’t consider us unlucky.” I look at the sky, and I can feel his eyes on my face. It makes me swallow, how intense his gaze is. It almost makes it feel that much more real.

“Why’s that?” He asks, twisting the bud out on the cement. It stains the freshly cleaned grey stone an ashy black, but I bite my tongue.

“We had each other. Maybe we aren’t the best people, maybe we’re cruel, but I’d rather argue than live in solitude, right? Company can’t be bought. Even the most painful of it. That’s something real. Something without a price. And we’ve got it.” And it’s true. We fight and we throw shit. We stain the walls and rip the curtains. We start fires and try to blame the other. We make a mess and make amends. But a house isn’t a home without someone to share it with. And at least if we had to suffer to get there, we got it.

“Thats some of your poet shit.” He laughs sadly into the silence, looking at his feet. I laugh along, though I can tell he was only half joking. Then, I let the silence wash back over us. Forgetting how we almost had a full conversation.

“I’m not a bad person. I don’t know why I’m so mean.” He says sincerely. It’s sudden too. I can tell from the rawness in his voice. How his eyes tear up and his lips quiver. His voice cracks. Our feet hang off the edge of the backyard. It’s a quiet life. Even now. With our fights and all the fraud. But it’s never a lonely life, and we only have each other to thank for it.

I want to tell him I know, and I’m so sure of it. I’ve seen the real him, we might just not mesh together. But we once had, and that fact alone holds me back. He takes the lack of response and an opportunity to excuse himself. Pulling his body up by the arms and grunting through the sliding back door. I sit alone in the backyard for hours, body curling up into itself and layers of clothing becoming less than enough after some more time.

“I know.” I whisper into the silence. I know he’s not a bad person, I know it so well and I am so certain of it. I knew Harry once. He’s loyal and kind and the smartest man I’d ever met. And I miss knowing him like that so much.

I thought for a second tonight, I’d gotten part of him back. And maybe I had, but he left so soon I couldn’t really tell all that well. He’s left me back in the silence, wondering what happened to us, and what will happen to us. Why he came to get me, and why he even bothered to open up to me. But he never gives me the time to properly ask, even if I planned to.

I ring in the New Year alone.

The next morning he’s gone. Back to New York for his business in the big city and I am left to sit and think about what was said. A half empty bottle of wine stained with my red lipstick and glitter on the floor from old party poppers Charlotte and Elin had made sure to use before making their exit. I repeat his words.

He’s not a bad person, so why is he so mean? It’s best left unknown. Because if theres one thing I fear more than anything, it’s the realization of rejection.

Even from a man I hate so entirely, it consumes me. That I could not stand to be faced with the fact that Harry and I do not get along simply because we do not work and not because of some other underlying reason.

After all, we had it all. Gave each other everything the other had wanted. Food, shelter, company. There was really so explanation for the bitterness between us.

After all, all this time, despite his anger and hatred, he never left me to the wolves. And despite my heartbreak and sadness, I never left him with an empty home.

A wise man once said to never bite the hand that feeds it. Yet, here we are. Ripping skin from bone until we are left with nothing. We are the ungrateful, the selfish, the cruel. And we both believe that we are in the right.

I am so scared of rejection from this man who I claim to hate because he is the hand that feeds me and I am the hand to him.

We aren’t bad people, so why are we so mean? We recognize all we have to be grateful for, so why do we bite the hand that feeds us?

I guess the vulnerability of it all must have scared us. And while facing the storm, we did what all people do. We let fear consume us and we bite.

Somehow, through all of this. The realizations and the tears and wine and dusty ashes, I love him. Even with my teeth sinking into his skin and his own in mine, drawing blood, I love him. I love Harry Styles. He is my best friend and I am his. That is why I am scared and that is why it hurts so bad. Not because I simply missed him, but rather because my heart was devoted to a man who did not want it.

My fingers fumble over the pad on the phone. I type up his phone number by heart and let it ring. He answers quickly, still waiting for his plane at the airport.

“Y/n?” I can hear the bustling crowds around him and the loud engines taking off from other terminals. I imagine he is plugging one of his ears and mentally cursing the noise for making it so hard to hear.

“Come home.” My breathing is unstable, and my hands run through my hair so much I create new tangles by my neck.

“What? No, Y/n, I have to go. People are expecting me.” He starts to explain how important this is for his business. How it would be so much simpler to be there rather than over a computer screen.

“Fuck them, who cares! Harry, I need you, and I want you, please just listen to me for once. Don’t scoff, or…or roll your eyes or leave! Listen to me this once and if it’s not worth it to you, I promise you’ll never have to listen to me again. Please, it’s important.” I ramble all in one breath, endless pleas met with silence. I can feel the rejection coming, I can hear the way he chokes on a breath, debating what I said.

“Okay.” The phone goes dead with his promise to come home. With the continuous beeps, I slowly come to terms with what I’d just done. But I do not feel panicked, or scared. I feel lighter with the fact that I am about to tell the moody boy something I wished I told him a long time ago.

The door opens with a creak, keys jingling in his large palms. I’d spent the morning pacing the kitchen. Leaving a trail of confetti behind in my wake. I hadn’t cared enough to clean with my endless thoughts and extreme amounts of adrenaline.

“Y/n?” His voice was unsure when it rang out. As if he didn’t know what to expect. The door shut behind him not long before I came rushing around the corner, fingernails bitten to the skin and hangnails bleeding profusely.

“God, Y/n what the hell…” Taking my hands into his, he examined the redness of my irritated skin stained further with dry blood.

“I know.” I looked at him, and he looked back at me like I was crazy.

“What?” His thumbs bent over the backs of my palms, holding me in front of him.

“I know.” I breathed out again, looking at him with such sincerity, praying for him to understand. “You’re not a bad person, and I know it because I know you. Because we fight and we tease and we scream and cry. But I know you because once we didn’t do all of that. And I needed you to know that because it wasn’t fair of me to make you believe that to be true after everything you’ve done for me.” My voice shook with how vulnerable I felt myself becoming. Harry’s hands only tightened the further I explained.

“But what about all I’ve done to you. Y/n, I’ve been awful to you and I never even told you why.” He tried to argue. I shook my head, biting my lips.

“I haven’t been much better.” I smiled sadly. He shook his head back.

“No.”

“Yes.” I blinked hard, pushing back the tears that formed watching his own gather by his waterline.

“No, Y/n, I’ve been horrible. I’ve been mean.” He tried to push away everything I was trying to ignore.

“And so have I.” I tried harder to make him understand.

“But you only did it because I had. And for what?” He finally spoke, voice raised with so much desperation behind it, I froze under his touch.

“Because I loved you so much it drove me fucking insane? Because I still love you and I’m afraid if I can’t get you to hate me I’ll never be able to stop.” He was crying now, pleading with me to make me see his side of things. All I could do was shake my head.

“Harry I could never hate you.”

“But you could never love me.” He argued.

“Thats not true, Harry tell me you know that it couldn’t be true.” I rip my hands from his grip to rest them on his cheeks. I try to wipe away his tears, but his hands cover my wrists and pull them back down.

“How could I? You said it yourself. All those months ago, I told you. I held you close and I told you I loved you. You told me I was your best friend. You couldn’t even pretend!” Neither of us could tell if he was angry or just sad. Maybe both, but no amount of denial would calm him down.

“I didn’t have to, I still don’t have to pretend! Harry, I only said that because I was so fucking scared. Scared of us, of me, of you. Of losing you if it didn’t work. And I lost you anyways, I would’ve just said it if I knew I’d lose you like this.” Our chests bumped and his fingers slipped between mine.

“Y/n.” He whispered into the silence, over our heavy breathing and salty tears.

“I love you, and I miss you.” He didn’t say anything. I could feel him slipping away as soon as his response never came. Not a single word left to say between us. Not a single amount of energy left to fight.

And then he was kissing me. Hard and sweet. Like I was everything he’d ever wanted and more. Like he was hungry, needing more and more of something he had always wanted but could never have. And at the same time, it was soft and tender. Like he never wanted it to end. My back arched within the grip of his wandering hands and my fingers tangling in his curls. I swore I would never let him go.

But it was a swear I couldn’t keep, because air dwindled quickly and spit strung between our lips. Something I would usually gag at, but didn’t mind at the moment. His forehead against mine and arms gripping the fabric by my hips so tight if I moved he could have ripped it.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized in between his heaving breaths.

“Me too.” Looking at him, I could see the red staining his lips from the makeup I’d slept in. It made me laugh, which in result made him smile.

“What? What!” He laughed along cluelessly, letting me back away for a moment.

“You have something-“ I pointed again his mouth and smiled.

“Oh do I? Do I?” He kissed my cheek, smearing the remnants of our kiss across my cheek. “Still there?” He asked with a sly grin. Like he knew he was winning.

So I kissed him hard again, smearing red around his skin and his pink lips with so much love, there was no denying my feelings anymore. There was no hate left to give.

“Yeah, you do.” It was yet another fight, but not one I minded.

After all, thats what we did for so long, it was what we were good at. The teasing and the fighting. Only now it wasn’t bitter, it was playful. And we didn’t coexist with the sole purpose of it.

Because now I was his and he was mine. And this knowledge answered all my questions, all my doubts I’d had before about our relationship and our shared insecurities that led us down this scaring path.

Harry was my best friend, and I was his. And there was no love greater than that.

[roamingtigress]

Hosea and Dutch's wedding anniversary is approaching, and Dutch wants to impress Hosea with a little more accessorizing (because, as you know, he doesn't have enough jewelry).

*CONTAINS OLD MAN YAOI SMUT*

Chain Reaction

by Roaming Tigress

Dutch is many things.

He is a con man, a leader of a notorious gang with a novel-length list of crimes he is wanted for. He is a frustrating bastard that makes you want to whack him across the head with a pillow, and yet, you might also take pity on him. He may also be charming; many have fallen for his silver tongue, his mightiest weapon.

And a man with a taste for finer things.

Among those finer things is his wardrobe.

Adorning that waist jacket is a Double Albert pocket fitted with a red ruby fob adornment. Sure, its intended use is for wax stamps, but let's face it, mostly, it's to draw the eye to that slutty, slutty waist.

And while many know of Dutch as a conman, a bastard who needs a good whack upside the head with a pillowcase full of bricks (maybe followed by a hug), what many might not know is that Dutch is, well, to put it bluntly, adventurous. And his (mostly) patient husband, Hosea, is always up for something different.

Dutch had a plan for that Double Albert, that red ruby fob.

That plan would also surprise Hosea; their wedding anniversary was just a month away. Dutch thought, why not impress him a little?

Like all Dutch's plans, though, it did not go according to the plan.

On the first piercing, his left nipple, Dutch nearly, literally, hit the roof in that shop behind the gun store in Annesburg. Now, another little-known fact about Dutch, for better or for worse: he's touch-sensitive.

Very touch-sensitive.

The right piercing, another week later, went just as smoothly. Judging from the horrific scream, a passerby might think a man in that shop was getting a tooth extracted without anesthetic, a bikini wax, or maybe even castrated. And that passerby would be forgiven for making such a mistake.

"I didn't rip it off!" Cried the man halfway out the door as Dutch took off, clasping a hand over his right chest.

Dutch is known to be a little dramatic.

Another fact about Dutch? He's occasionally a little dramatic.

Now came the time for the navel piercing.

That also went swimmingly.

Well, it kicked off.

Another fun fact: Dutch is ticklish! It's one of the ways Hosea can control him; when he's in a foul or otherwise difficult mood (which is rarely, of course), a poke to the ribs—particularly in public—can get him to crumble.

And he's exceptionally touchy in the region from his ribs to his midsection -- as the other poor man would come to find out.

The piercer got a full boot to the forehead when the piercing needle slipped through the top rim of that tender target.

"GODDAMNIT!" Had he spent a little more time readying Dutch, the piercer might not have had to play dodge-the-spurs, but this was Dutch's third visit. Knowing how the other appointments went, he wasn't in the mood to scratch the cowboy's belly any more than he had to.

The man, a particularly short but stout Scot with a full head of red hair named Cameron Carruthers, would live to tell the tale of receiving a cowboy boot to the face by one of the most notorious outlaws. A particularly sensitive outlaw; being wimpy over it all would be an understatement.

In all the years of his back-room business, in which he used the stock storage cabinets from Mr. Shultz, Cameron never saw someone kick up such a fuss. Now, the navel and the nipples are sensitive areas of the body, but surely, a man of Dutch's reputation could have retained some of that stoic character over it all. Maybe they just don't make cowboys the way they used to.

Cameron knew well of who his client was: a man with a novel-length list of crimes ranging from robbery to murder and everything in between. Still, he scoffed at his wanted poster stapled to a post before he sauntered off for a pint at the Mitternachtsbierhalle Restaurant and Bar. He even had to scoff again at the description of him. A 'dangerous man', indeed! If the law enforcement captured that miscreant and needed him to confess to even more crimes, perhaps bringing out the piercing needly and the confessions would fly out of his silver-tongued mouth.

From that moment on, as soon as the boot hit him square in the head, Cameron implemented a new customer policy: cowboy boots were not allowed on the piercing table.

Thanks, Dutch.

Another Dutch trade secret: when giving gifts to his loved ones, with a few exceptions, he prefers going the legit route versus just stealing the damn thing. Books for Jack are always bought (almost), along with fine gifts for Hosea ranging from clothing to his stallion, Silver Dollar (whom he may have tricked Hosea into believing was a long-extinct breed). Dutch and Hosea bought the odd thing for John and Arthur.

Maybe.

Wedding anniversaries are bought legitimately without fail.

Well, that's a stretch.

There was that time when Dutch stole a carriage and took Hosea out on a joyride, lawmen in tow; that was last year.

The gold chains that Dutch would connect to the rings were handmade in Italy, and the rings themselves, adorned with tiny diamonds and rubies, of course, were from France, where the fob the chains would connect to came from. Fancy, fancy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now you might be wondering, during the weeks when Dutch got his piercings and during his healing, how did Dutch keep it all a secret from Hosea?

A little (stolen) stage makeup was used. It took a little experimenting to ensure it was thick enough not to be rubbed (or kissed off) easily but not to look unnatural. Dutch also depended on little tricks of the lighting and, even more so, a little luck.

During those weeks of healing, lovemaking happened only at night; Dutch had concocted a theory that a man's sensations are higher at night. Hosea played along. With the sensitivity towards those areas heightened by the pain, it was, in a word, sensational.

Dutch played it coy during the day, flirting and testing the waters, but he was able to keep those areas hidden. Hosea had always been fond of kissing that belly each morning, as Dutch was fond of doing to him; whoever woke up first blew zerberts on the other. Once in a while, the makeup would slip off during the night, and Hosea would be concerned about those red marks appearing on his usually pristine belly button and nipples, a concern which Dutch brushed off as mosquito bites. It was a particularly insect-ridden summer, and Dutch thought it was a plausible pass; Hosea, though, was suspicious.

"Mosquito bites?" Hosea raised an eyebrow, trying to pull down the bedsheet covering his chest. Dutch stubbornly covered himself up.

"Who was it?"

"Who was what?" Dutch felt his cheeks flush, and at once, Hosea narrowed his eyebrows.

"It wasn't Josiah, was it?" Hosea almost growled. "I told him not to bite you! You know I'm the one to leave marks on you."

Now and then, Hosea would 'loan' out Dutch to close friends to have a little fun with him. At other times, he'd go to the highest bidder; on one occasion, a prince from Sweden had an afternoon with him. Josiah Trelawny (and sometimes his wife when she had someone to mind Tarquin and Cornelius) were among those. There were a few rules: he had to return at the end of the day, Fridays were off limits to any but Hosea, and the aforementioned non-biting rule: Hosea wanted to mark Dutch as HIS harlot.

"Nope, nope, he was gentler last time."

Hosea scoffed, crossing his arms as he looked at his idiot with a mustache, his head tilted. He wore a smug smile, but a twinkle in his dark eyes told Hosea he would tease a little. "Gentle last time? You couldn't walk right for a week. Hosea Fucks Friday almost became Hosea Misses Out on Friday."

"Is that any different than usual?" Dutch laughed, at first arching his back off the mattress in a not-so-subtle 'please give me scritches' gesture, but then stopped, realizing. "Last I checked -- "

Hosea scoffed, slipping into bed next to him. He felt right into the marrow of his old bones that Dutch was up to something; he always knew but decided to play along. "You know, it's amazing it hasn't fallen off!"

He looked at his husband curiously, and Dutch answered his question.

"Wasn't anyone but you," Dutch murmured, pressing a kiss to Hosea's nose as he turned to hand Hosea a book; it was their sweet, nightly routine to read a chapter of a book to each other.

"You were rough, I'm still recovering!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week had passed since that close call, and the chains and rings were soon in Dutch's well-manicured hands. Oh, he couldn't wait to show them to Hosea!

Dutch stood before the mirror, in all his shirtless glory, as he carefully inserted the first ring into his right nipple.

He shivered at the sensation of the cool gold sliding through his nipple; it was cold and tingling but not unpleasant. Not unpleasant in the least.

The second nipple was even more sensitive; he'd be lying if he said his toes weren't curling by now. And the fool wants to attach chains!

Last but not least, the navel ring. Dutch squirmed and let out a sound that one wouldn't likely expect from him as that damn fancy ring was inserted. And then, with the biggest smile he could possibly smile, he kissed his reflection.

"Oh, baby girl, he will love it!" He was sure this would send Hosea into another galaxy.

Dutch stepped back and took a good look at himself. He was positively flirting with his reflection; one hip slightly swung out, and his chest puffed out. He was an absolute picture of pride. The rings shone so pretty in the limited lighting, but that ensemble would look even prettier on that chain.

He took hold of one of the chains arranged neatly on the counter, clipped a clasp on the chain to the right nipple ring, and then repeated with the left. He attached a third and final chain, a shorter one, to his red gem fob, to the chain clasps from the nipple rings, to his navel ring.

Effectively, the chains created a "V" with a pattern; "V" for "van der Linde," "V" for "vivacious," "V" for "very sexy," or if you think the whole matter is silly if you think the situation is indeed a bit silly.

The sensation of the gold chain against Dutch's tender skin was giving him goosebumps -- and that was before the fob was even given a tug.

He had to give it a little tug—just a little teasing one. Of course, he'd save a proper tug for Hosea, but he had to try it.

Dutch gave the fob a sight tug. He let out a sharp breath as he felt a shiver running throughout his body, and that was just from the lightest pull. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, envisioning Hosea dragging him around camp by that fob. He slipped his hands down his torso as the picture in his head became more vivid. Hosea might be angry at him over something and feel taking him down a peg was necessary.

"How long are you going to be in there?" Hosea asked from behind the bathroom door with particular urgency to his voice, startling Dutch from his daydreaming just as his hands reached his meticulously trimmed pubic hair.

It was the eve of their wedding anniversary, ten minutes to go.

"Just five more minutes!" Dutch answered with a slight shake of his voice, grabbing his clothes from the counter, minus the union suit, which he placed in a basket for laundry. He had to reclothe himself carefully lest he snag the chains, and well, there'd go the sexy anniversary gift reveal. The fob chain was threaded through an opening in his shirt, and he squirmed his hips as he ran his hand through his hair.

"Old Girl will go mad."

Sure enough, Dutch made good on his promise. Hosea stepped into the bathroom while casting a suspicious eye on his husband. He had been in there for a while, after all.

"Stomach's not acting up again, is it?"

Dutch's eyes had a certain glint in them. Playful, even. "It's been a week since that's been acting up. You rearranged my guts!"

"I wasn't that rough!" Hosea scoffed, giving him a swat that Dutch dodged as he swerved into the bedroom.

Dutch sat on the edge of the hotel bed, his foot fidgeting as he practically squirmed in anticipation. He pushed himself further up onto the mattress and unbuttoned his striped shirt, revealing a bit more of his chest. Feeling a little saucy, maybe even a bit slutty, he assumed the pose he often took after sex: his lower torso pointed towards the bathroom door, legs spread open, chin tilted to his chest, and eyes coyly cast downward. It was a submissive pose of trust and love, one that Hosea could never resist; to him, it meant Dutch was so trusting of him that he could do as he wished to him.

"Oh, there's my little minx, waiting for me . . . " Hosea spoke lowly, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom.

Dutch's hand moved to the fob of his black waistcoat, and he almost shyly toyed with it, subtly trying to draw Hosea's attention to it. "Five minutes until our anniversary . . . " He cast a playful glance at Hosea.

"You forgot the anniversary gift, didn't you?" Hosea was always onto Dutch when he acted cute. Usually, Dutch was hiding something from him and would try to to worm his way out of the situation. More often than not, Dutch indeed managed to squirm out of trouble; Hosea had a bit of a soft spot for him, after all.

"What would you say if I said I was wearing it?" Dutch murmured, his baritone voice coming out as smooth as silk.

Hosea watched Dutch curiously as he played with the fob, twirling it between his fingers. After a moment, their eyes locked; Hosea's eyes were filled with questions as he wondered what was in store for him, and Dutch's with warm excitement, almost giddy anticipation.

"Give it a tug, Old Girl . . . " Dutch laid back further, casting him that playful gaze again as he carefully held the fob out to him.

Hosea's face lit up with a smile as he took the fob in one hand and cupped Dutch's jaw with the other, 'bopping' his nose with his thumb, which he moved down to lightly scratch his soul patch.

"You've been a little funny the last few weeks. I figured you were hiding something. You're so full of yourself, thinking you could get something past me."

Dutch looked at him with a defiant smirk, shifting slightly, his back arching up in a not-so-subtle 'tug it already' gesture. He was being a pushy little shit, and he knew it. "Oh, you know damn well I was in the clear -- "

"Not so." Hosea returned the smirk and tugged the chain firmly.

He might as well have struck Dutch with a jolt of electricity from an experiment testing the full impact of electricity at its highest possible strength and capabilities.

Dutch let out a sharp yelp, throwing his head back as he slammed onto the mattress, his back arching up off it as he dug his fingers into the bedspread. His whole body shuddered as his chest rose and fell rapidly.

His reaction was so intense that it initially startled Hosea, but he gathered himself quickly and gave it another tug. He got a similar reaction out of him again.

"You think you could be sneaky with me, huh?"

"N-no -- "

Hosea tugged it a third time.

Dutch was a quivering mess, whimpering, finding himself unable to talk. The sight drove a certain hunger within Hosea; having such control over Dutch made him feel like he had all the power in the world.

"You got this attached to your cock and balls, or what?" Hosea had the chain threaded through his fingers but didn't pull back; he didn't want to tug too often, too soon, lest he desensitize him. And besides, he was giving him the puppy dog look. Wherever this fob was connected, it was attached to something sensitive; he knew Dutch's most tender spots intimately and what kind of touch brought out what reaction.

Dutch laid on his back, panting. He felt his cock swelling under his pants; his arousal grew so fast that it was damn near painful.

"Fuck, Hosea . . . " He spoke between breaths, his heart nearly pounding out of his ribcage as he pushed his head back into the pillow.

Hosea ran his thumb over the fob as he slipped next to him, maybe subtly reminding Dutch that he controlled this situation. His hazel eyes were sparkling; he had to see this arrangement! Dutch had always gone over the top with their anniversary gifts, but this had to be the most . . . Sensational one.

"May I see my wedding gift?"

"I thought you'd never ask!" Dutch winked, crow's feet taking flight in the corners of his eyes. Hosea loved seeing him smile, how his eyes crinkled up, even the wrinkles on his nose!

He sat up on his knees, not breaking soft eye contact with Hosea as he unbuttoned his jacket, taking care not to snag the fob chain underneath. To Hosea's amusement, he slipped out his waistcoat with an exaggeratedly serpentine movement.

"Enjoying the show?" Dutch teased, teasingly shrugging his shoulders as his fingers nimbly worked over his shirt.

"I've seen worse!" Hosea laughed, though transfixed by watching his husband's fingers deftly undo the buttons; he always loved watching Dutch use his hands, whatever they were doing.

Almost absently, Hosea slid his hand down to his groin, digging his fingers across the fabric of his pyjama bottoms as he watched intently. While for Dutch, Hosea's hands are

When his chest became exposed, Dutch almost coyly blocked the view of his nipple rings. He gave Hosea a crooked smile as he rested his head on his shoulder and watched; Dutch took pride in how he still affected Hosea in such a manner.

"Maybe I shouldn't. Maybe this be too much for you." He was still playing coy and being cute, and his beloved enjoyed it.

Hosea scoffed, his fingers clutching through the fabric of his pyjamas. His voice was hitched, breathly as he ran the palm of his hand over his groin. "Too much for me? I think I struck lighting with you."

"I seem to be creating the makings of another electric storm myself," Dutch almost purred, a certain playful twinkle in them as he slipped his left hand covering a ringed nipple and then revealed the other.

"Happy anniversary, Old Girl."

Hosea sat up in a kneeling position, a bit awkwardly, given that oh-so-familiar sensation growing within his groin. "It's beautiful . . ." He almost growled, tracing a finger over the ring and then tracing a fingertip down the length of the exposed chain.

"That's not all . . ." Dutch murmured teasingly, deftly undoing the rest of the buttons, revealing the chains which popped out oh so temptingly. He worked his way down to his navel piercing, and with all of them undone, he arched his back towards Hosea, pushing his belly towards him invitingly.

Hosea glanced up and down Dutch's form, licking his lips as if he was presented with a delicious meal, and he was—prime Dutch. He wanted to make a feast out of that choice cut that lay before him and maybe have the odd bite; after all, he had to ensure Dutch was cooked just right.

Hosea leaned in and, securing Dutch by the waist, took a nipple ring into his mouth and rolled it slowly with his tongue, sending Dutch writhing. Leaving him wanting more, though, Hosea abandoned that nipple and kissed and nipped his way over to his other, easing him down as he did so. Leaving him whining -- a sound Hosea knew was begging -- and squirming -- Hosea alternated kisses and soft bites down his torso.

"Oh, you taste as delicious as you look," Hosea murmured against him.

"Hungry, now are we?" Dutch grinned, his eyes now little slits as he squirmed up against Hosea, encouraging him. "I guess I wouldn't be the worst choice for an anniversary dinner -- "

"Shut up and let me eat you!" Hosea feigned frustration but flashed a grin, giving him a nip between that tender region of the breastbone and midriff.

Hosea enjoyed this as much as Dutch did; he felt young again. The world outside, everything, stopped. It was just them having this moment.

Dutch squirmed with stifled laughter and whimpers as he tried to suck his belly in, in a hopeless attempt to evade Hosea's brutal onslaught. He suspected that his navel would be next, and he was right. He was already sensitive there, and the ring just amplified it. Hosea couldn't help it -- the damn fools jewelry setup was

Dutch's toes curled nearly into the souls of his feet in arousal as Hosea reached up to sneak a bite into a nipple -- as did Hosea's as his hunger increased.

"One of your better anniversary gifts, my Dutchess," Hosea cooed against his skin. Then, deciding to leave Dutch wanting more, he pushed himself into a kneeling position. He threaded a length of the chain around a finger and cupped his chin with his other hand.

"Thank you."

And then they kissed.

Slowly, Hosea pushed Dutch back onto the mattress, his hold not breaking from the chain. For a moment, Dutch challenged him, wrapping his leg behind him and rolling him over. He did so slowly as if thinking amid that kiss that Hosea would overlook. Sneaky, sneaky, sneaky.

Hosea wasn't having any of it, though.

Oh no, he wasn't.

Hosea growled into the kiss and rolled Dutch aside, pinning him down with his knees around his waist -- all the while still holding onto that strand of gold chain as he sat upwards again. Dutch looked up at him with a crooked, playful smile as if testing to see what he'd do next.

"Thought you'd distract me with the shiny, huh?" He slowly wound more of that chain around his finger, threatening to yank.

"Well, I did!" Dutch grinned, his expression alone saying, 'Pull it.'

Hosea smirked. He considered tugging it, but then he thought. . .

"Maybe I could be distracted by a little bit more . . . Shiny."

Dutch tilted his head curiously, an expression beyond adorable that earned a tickle on the cleft of his chin. Hosea had a soft spot for that chin; where others found 'ugly,' he found adorable, much like that nose. What he even found to be cuter than those features was how he reacted when they were scritched, kissed, 'booped.' Sometimes, he'd tuck his head in and blush; sometimes, he'd wrinkle his nose and pretend to be annoyed. On other times -- such as this time -- he'd crinkle his eyes up and tip his head back for more with a big ear-to-ear smile.

"You're adorable."

Hosea leaned over and kissed Dutch's nose, and he chuckled when that made him wrinkle it with a feigned snarl. He knew Dutch often pretends to hate those nose kisses, but Hosea knows better. He slipped off the bed to retrieve said gift from the dresser, and his voice took on a certain excitement.

"You didn't think there'd just be one anniversary gift between us now, did you?"

Dutch remained where Hosea placed, on his back, his legs spread to accommodate his erection. He tipped his head back to watch Hoea, almost purring at the combined sensation of the gold settling on his skin, the cloth of his black pants roughly shifting against his groin without that union suit getting in the way. And then, he couldn't bear it.

Off with the pants! His eyes didn't leave Hosea as he slipped, almost wiggling out of those pants, gasping when the cool air settled on his exposed, erect penis.

And then, Hosea turned to reveal the wedding anniversary gift in his hands. His expression was amused; he knew Dutch too well and how quick he'd be about taking those pants off.

It was a cock ring.

Custom made, of course.

"Specially made, just for you!" Hosea spoke animatedly, still eyeballing his husband as if he were a high-priced meal at a restaurant.

The cock ring was made of gold with a black band engraved with a smattering of tiny gold Ds, the very same font that formed the D pattern on his jacket. D for Dutch. D for dashing. D for dick. There were tiny red rubies along the band; it matched with his other rings and even his wardrobe perfectly.

And it could be hooked up with another gold chain, which it game with.

Dutch almost purred, his legs spreading in submission, in desire. He held his cock in his hands as Hosea returned to the bed, eager to feel the ring being eased on.

"Oh, Hosea, you spoil me rotten."

Hosea laughed as he came around the foot end of the bed and propped a knee on the mattress, all with a smoothness that Dutch was still taken in by. They both walked with a hitch in their get-along for some time now, but when it came to affection and intimacy, it was as if all their joints, their tendons, were as they were when they first met. Dutch could be able to withhold weight on his knees without feeling as if they'd be crunching underneath him, and Hosea could thrust deep within him without his hips troubling him. Maybe some invisible connection between them -- they are soulmates, after all -- healed all that was sore, at least for a time.

"If you got any more rotten, the vultures wouldn't have you!" Hosea grinned, giving Dutch a poke to his belly as he leaned in, delighting in how that always made him squeak.

Dutch let out a hearty laugh and squirmed his whole body in anticipation. "Oh, you flatter me, Old Girl . . ." He grinned, slipping a leg onto Hosea's shoulder, his foot teasing behind his ear. He teasingly started to rub it over Hosea; wherever he could reach, he touched.

"Trying to turn me on before I could get this on, are you? What a whore!" Hosea teased, playfully taking hold of his leg with his free hand and holding it firmly against his waist. "It's not even Friday!"

Dutch looked over at Hosea with a coy, playful expression. "Mhm . . . But I think rules can be set aside for anniversaries, and it'd be cruel to follow them with my new accessories. I did spend a lot of time putting it on, you know." He purred but slipped his hand away, tipping his head back when he felt Hosea's hand replace his.

The ring was eased down onto Dutch cock, giving him a cool and yet not cold sensation -- helped by the warmth of Hosea's hand -- that coursed through him.

"This came from London . . . " Hosea murmured, sending Dutch's head tipping back as he slid the ring up and down his length in a slow, rhythmic pace and used this other hand to support his ass. He may have even slipped a finger inside him to add to his pleasure; the purring moan from Dutch told him it was a good decision.

"I measured you that one night. You wouldn't have known I was measuring you, of course. You were on another planet!"

Dutch arched his back off the bed, grit his teeth and gripped the bed cover. He remembered that night. He almost felt that night again; nobody touches Dutch like Hosea. He strokes with the perfect pressure, almost elegantly, and yet keeps it unpredictable. There are reminders of who Dutch belongs to and who loves him.

For Hosea and Dutch, mutual masturbation is as enjoyable and just as meaningful as intercourse. For Dutch, it keeps him centred, keeping his mind from going to dark places.

"Send me to the moon, Hosea -- "

Hosea happily obliged.

He leaned in, took that fob between his teeth, and tipped his head back.

Dutch went to another planet.

He wasn't sure if it was the moon, but it was a planet, far, far away.

"Are you seeing the galaxy, my Duchess?" Hosea's voice was deep and breathy; if he said he wasn't being affected by watching his husband undulatingly writhe and moan as he gave that fob tugs -- no, yanks -- of alternating strengths, his finger moving into him deeper, he'd be lying.

Dutch gasped, his head thrown back so far and hard repeatedly that he'd be surprised if he hadn't gotten whiplash. "N-nearly there!"

Hosea could feel the orgasm building up within Dutch. It was such an intimately organic sensation, one that, to him, was more than just sex; it was knowing that he had sent him to that level. Truthfully, they really do only have sex once a week, and yes, on Fridays, it extends the drive, the desire, the hunger.

"I'll help get you there!" Hosea panted, his breath shaking as he eased Dutch's ass back down on the bed, leaving him writhing as he rummaged through his jacket pocket in search of gun oil. He was whining about something incoherent. It's hard to imagine, but Dutch will survive the ordeal of a short wait until Hosea sends him to another level.

"No need to be dramatic; I'll send you to the stars."

"Mmrhsea . . . !"

"You don't like me going in raw, Dutch."

At last, Hosea had found the gun oil.

Pants were dropped. All necessary equipment was lubed up to specifications.

Gun lube wasn't their preferred lubricant; Hosea was fond of hair pomade, while Dutch preferred Potent Miracle Tonic. Gun oil was a go-to in a hurry, though, and they were in a hurry.

Hosea grabbed a fistful of those chains, and with Dutch's legs submissively, sluttily spread out, he thrust deep inside him with a strength of a man twenty years younger. He took ahold of that waist with his other hand, steading him, digging his fingers into a love handle. He loved that Dutch had them now; they were something to grab, to poke to keep him in line.

Dutch was self-conscious about those love handles, but over time, Hosea's touches of them, the gentle pokes, and those soft kneadings created a positive association; acceptance happened henceforth.

Hosea yanked the chain.

Hard.

Dutch's knuckles nearly went white as he gripped the bed. He snapped his head back, biting his tongue so hard that he tasted blood as he was sent into an orgasmic, organically electrified, babbling, whimpering mess. He seemed to even short-circuit as he came and cried, actually, literally cried when he felt Hosea's release that came following one more hard thrust. Hosea and Dutch were so synch with one another that even their bodies almost became one organism during sex; rarely, one lasts longer than the other.

Sex heightens Dutch's emotions. Tears happen.

He went to the stars, the moon, and beyond, an emotional journey.

Hosea collapsed onto Dutch and couldn't even catch his breath before he hugged tight. It was almost as if the fear was there that he would disappear into thin air, that he was an apparition all along, an apparition that he was forbidding to fade away. He had to smile, though, as Dutch pressed on the top of his head.

Aftercare would have to wait; Dutch *needed* to hold him. He was enjoying the sound of his heart beating against his, both of which were trying to slow down and that musky after-sex smell that he still has after all these years.

"Happy anniversary, 'sea."

[runariya]

💎 🎤 💍 Jin

(mafia+idolverse+wedding)

part of the prompt game

pairing: idol!jin x mafiaprincess!female reader

genre: S2L, mafia!AU, idolverse

word count: 1.315

a/n: this has been sitting in my inbox for some days and I think it’s finally time for it 💕 welcome home Jinnie💕

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You sit before your white vanity, the gleaming surface cluttered with an array of luxurious cosmetics and elegant hairbrushes. Your mascara has betrayed you, running down your cheeks in black rivulets, leaving a trail of the evening's turmoil etched on your face. With each stroke of the brush through your glossy hair, you try to find some semblance of calm, but your reflection only deepens your despair. There, in the mirror, you catch sight of the poster of Kim Seokjin, his perfect smile seeming to mock your misery. The world around you is crumbling, the facade of your protected life shattering into pieces.

As the princess of the second-largest mafia gang in South Korea, the Parks, you had always known there were dark corners to your existence. Your father's empire thrived on fear, extortion, and ruthless enforcement. Yet, you were kept far removed from the brutal realities of mafia life. You were the cherished daughter, homeschooled and surrounded by bodyguards, living in a gilded cage. The mansion was your kingdom, yet it was also your prison. Every need was catered to, every luxury at your fingertips, but freedom was a concept you only read about in books. You never questioned why you were kept so isolated, so protected from the outside world. That is, until tonight.

Tonight, everything became clear. You had been groomed, shaped, and prepared for a singular purpose: to be a bargaining chip in your father’s strategic game. The realisation hit you like a tidal wave, drowning you in despair. You were to be sold off in marriage when the time was right, when an alliance was needed. And that time had come.

For years, you had harboured a secret love for Kim Seokjin, the idol whose debut had ignited a spark in your heart. You were captivated by his broad shoulders, his soft dark hair, his piercing eyes, and those beautiful lips that seemed to promise the world. His voice was your solace, his personality a light in your dark world. You had never been able to attend fan events, concerts, or meet-and-greets because of your sheltered life. Instead, you collected his merchandise in secret, hiding it in your lavish room that resembled more a suite than a single bedroom. The only visible sign of your affection was the poster hanging behind you, a silent testament to your hidden love. Your father and the staff remained oblivious to your infatuation with a man who symbolised everything you longed for but could never have.

Tonight, the weight of your reality feels heavier than ever, as you prepare for a dinner with the Chois, a minor gang with valuable port access your father needed. They were repulsive in both appearance and character, but your father didn't care. He was ready to sell you off to their son for the alliance, ignoring your feelings entirely. The tears flow again as you look at Seokjin's smiling face in the mirror, your heart breaking under the weight of your shattered dreams.

-

Days and weeks blur together as the wedding draws inexorably closer. Your days are consumed with endless preparations, though you have little say in any of the decisions. You feel like a marionette, pushed and pulled from one place to another, forced to wear a mask of happiness and pride as the daughter of the Park family. Lavish bridal boutiques become routine stops, where you are fitted into exquisite gowns adorned with pearls and lace, the finest fabrics brushing against your skin. Opulent banquet halls are booked, florists arrange towering bouquets of rare flowers, and chefs create intricate menus for the grand celebration. Yet, despite the splendour, you feel detached, merely playing a role in this grand spectacle.

The only refuge you have is the music of Seokjin, which has always been and always will be your sanctuary. His songs are a lifeline, a soothing balm for your troubled soul amidst the whirlwind of wedding preparations. Each night, as you close your eyes, his voice is the last thing you hear, a reminder of a world beyond your gilded cage.

One morning, the mansion is thrown into chaos. Staff members rush around frantically, preparing every corner for unexpected guests. You stop a passing maid to ask what’s happening, and she breathlessly informs you that the Kims, the most powerful mafia gang in South Korea, are arriving in less than fifteen minutes to discuss business with your father. The Kims are known for their meticulous planning, so their sudden visit sparks your curiosity and concern. They are an old mafia dynasty, almost royalty in the criminal underworld, with a history stretching back hundreds of years.

You remember seeing their heir, Kim Namjoon, at a ball when you were just a little girl. Even then, he carried an air of authority and power that left a lasting impression on you. Despite this brief encounter, your insight into the workings of the mafia world remains limited. The surprise and tension in the air are palpable, and you can’t help but wonder what this impromptu visit signifies.

Half an hour later, your father summons you to join the meeting. Your heart pounds as you make your way to his study, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts and fears. What could this possibly mean? Nothing prepares you for the sight that greets you when you enter the room.

There, opposite your father, sits Mr. Kim, the patriarch of the Kim family. To his left is Kim Namjoon, and to his right, Kim Seokjin. The men rise and bow with stoic expressions as your father introduces you. He then turns to Seokjin and says, “This is your future husband.” The words hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you frozen at the doorway, your mouth agape and your hand still clutching the handle.

Seokjin’s eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the room fades away. He gives you a brief smile and a wink, a small gesture that somehow cuts through your shock. You stand there, struggling to process the scene before you. Seokjin, the idol whose voice has been your sanctuary, is now standing before you as your betrothed. The contrast between his public persona and the reality of this moment leaves you reeling.

Your father’s voice breaks through your haze. “Please, come in,” he says, motioning for you to take a seat. You move mechanically, your mind still trying to catch up with the rapid turn of events. As you sit down, you can feel Seokjin’s gaze on you, but you can't bring yourself to look at him directly.

The discussion that follows is a blur. Words like “alliance,” “power,” and “future” float around you, but they barely register. All you can think about is Seokjin. His presence here, in this context, feels surreal. The man whose music has been your only escape from your gilded cage is now part of the very world you longed to avoid.

As the meeting progresses, you steal glances at Seokjin. His demeanor is calm and composed, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions inside you. You wonder if he feels the same turmoil, or if he is merely playing his part in this grand scheme orchestrated by powers beyond your control.

When the meeting finally ends, your father speaks to you privately. “This union will secure our position,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. You nod, the weight of his words settling heavily on your shoulders.

That night, as you lie in bed, the reality of your situation sinks in. You are to marry Kim Seokjin, the man whose music has been your only solace. But what does that mean for you? For him? The questions swirl in your mind, leaving you restless and uncertain about the future. The only thing you know for sure is that your life is about to change in ways you never imagined.

[laf-outloud]

the hypocritical nature of this is actually so hilarious when this behaviour accurately describes the way y’all are being towards Misha. Yet you feel justified in that because of your dislike… literally two sides of the same coin.

First of all - No. Just no. You are wrong anon.

In this poll situation, Misha IS the worst actor. He just is. Ask any professional. Hell, J2 and others who worked on spn have openly talked about making fun of him for being so over the top at some points and also have made fun of his "accents" and have told him to pull back.

Another reason you are wrong anon - we don't go around hunting down polls with Misha to downvote him. We also don't actively try to get his stuff canceled. Do we make fun of it HERE on our own blogs with proper anti tags and where we don't tag him or any of the rest of the cast, crew, etc? Absolutely. That is VERY different than actually making full blown campaigns with graphics and posters someone designed, etc. just to try and get Jared's shows canceled. All while tagging him and anyone related to the show including Jared himself, Gen, other actors, writers, etc.

Making fun of Misha on tumblr dot com without tagging literally anyone and not even putting it in his tumblr tag is worlds away from actively trying to get shows canceled and trying to do things like get charities to give back money simply because it was from the Pads. Like actually contacting the charity to do this. And if you can't see the difference anon? You need to step away from the internet and probably get some therapy.

Very well put, anon! It's always funny when they try and claim us dissing on Misha (rarely now since he's even more irrelevant than he's ever been) is "two sides of the same coin" to the hatred and downright death threats Jared receives even to this day.

And yes, out of the options presented in the poll, Misha is the worst actor. I mean, you just have to look at their post-SPN careers to see that. If he were that much better than Jared and Jensen, don't you think he'd have a job?

[foone]

As the person I follow who does reverse engineering, do you have any suggestions for finding resources on reverse engineering Android apps?

Specifically, there's an app I'm playing with, where after seeing the structure of the "export as Markdown" output I want to know what the internal structure and representation of the data is. The end goal of understanding it is to be able to add certain kinds of data dynamically, rather than up front. That's certainly doable typing in raw markdown, but being able to do it "app style" would be more convenient.

The google Play Store entry does not mention any open source licenses, or looking for the source code and hopefully a git repo or something would have been my first step.

(I'll probably need to bang together a crappy app to do what I really want regardless, but maybe this app's data structure would be more convenient than doing so with markdown.)

So, android stuff:

First you need the APK. You can do some trickery with your phone to pull it over the ADB connection if you install the android SDK, but generally I just google "app name APK" and you'll find some greymarket site that'll give you a copy.

Secondly, APKs are just ZIP files (JAR files, technically, but JAR files are also just ZIP files!). Unzip them and you can find lots of interesting stuff, often.

For disassembling/decompiling them, my go-to program is jadx. It's a java decompiler that's been around a while and can natively open APK files and decompile them. There's some weirder new APKs that it can't handle (something to do with a newer bytecode revision, I think?) but I can't recall the details on how you handle those. Those are rare, in my experience. jadx is pretty good, but you'll occasionally find methods or entire classes that it just can't figure out, and it'll give you a bytecode dump. I don't yet have a good solution for those, other than "get good at reading JVM bytecode".

If you're dealing with games, another useful thing can be UABE and dotPeek. These are unity/C# tools, but you would be surprised how many android games (and non-games!) are actually unity under the hood.

Bluestacks can also be useful, because it'll let you run the app on your desktop and that can be handy for things like running WireShark to log all network traffic.

Speaking of logging, the other handy thing I've done is enabling android developer mode on my phone to get to one specific option: Bluetooth HCI snoop log.

Now, actually getting that log is tricky and varies from phone to phone, because for some reason manufacturers like to move it around, but it's one of the best ways to reverse engineer bluetooth communication stuff. You basically turn on the log and everything your phone does to communicate with your Smart Toothbrush or whatever will be logged to a file, then you can yank that file over and stuff it into Wireshark.

So... hopefully some of that is a helpful start? I've not done a huge amount of Android reversing so I'm not super familiar with the tools used, but these are the ones I've got on hand for when I do.

also sorry for all the horny robotgirl posters who saw "android reverse engineering" in the tags and thought this was gonna be about taking them apart with screwdrivers and rooting around in their insides. Not today!

[arcadias-hell]

Replacements

(it is super late, sorry for no proof read. also not a request, this was an oc work that was changed to be able to be read as x reader. Singular use of Y/N bc it might be confusing otherwise. Also CW for alcoholism? only mentioned)

Questioning Monty never worked. 

No matter how hard she tried or what mood he was in. Being all nice and sweet didn’t work, neither did being distant or aggressive. Not once did she ever get any information about Bonnie, any confirmation about his death or if he was still alive, somewhere. Nothing. Threatening to deactivate him didn’t work, so what else could she do. She gave up. 

“Whatever,” she told herself, “it will resolve itself if I’m patient enough”. But she hated these thoughts the longer they stayed in her head. Hated herself because the thought of betraying Bonnie was always present. It kept her awake at night, worried Chica, who was concerned about her dear friend. So much so that she would sneak into her room at night, making sure that she was fine.

These thoughts intensified when she became Monty’s Handler, which is really just a fancy word for “make sure he doesn’t kill someone”. And oh, did she make sure of that. Besides a few staff bots, there were no ”accidents”. Well, not counting the time he tried to bite off Vanessa’s head, ending with her own arm in his maw thanks to her brilliant idea of “he can’t kill her if I put my arm between them”. Or the countless times of him falling off the catwalks of Gator Golf.

Her relationship with Monty was build on pissing each other off. He’d be a menace, making a mess for her to clean up. She’d tease him about the smallest stuff. Messed up at golf? Scared some kid? She would know and tease him about it. But they always kept it playful. She never found herself in a situation where she was actually afraid of him.

————————————-

Most of her time was spend after hours in the empty Bowling Alley. People would rarely come here anymore, it getting more empty day by day. She knew they, Faz Ent., wanted to rebrand it, a thought she couldn’t handle. They already got rid of it all. His posters, his cutouts, his merch. It was all gone. Even the damn candy and soda was discontinued. Everything was ripped from her and fuck, it hurt. It reopened old wounds that she thought were long sealed, brought back old habits that she tried so hard to unlearn. She begged them to at least leave the Alley be, let it be a silly attraction like Foxy’s Pirate Cove. And while they let it be for the time being, she knew she was only stalling for time and sooner or later this place would be taken from her too. It all would be taken. That’s how it always is, was, will be. 

This place was her home, she felt safe. The damn Pizzaplex, a place that scared many people thanks to the company’s past, was her home. The animatronics were her family. For once, since a long time, she felt safe. But it was falling apart right beneath her fingers. The sinkhole in Roxy’s Raceway started it. Or was it firing almost all human staff? Or perhaps the Virus that spread a while ago and almost ruined the place? Or maybe it was her. She had a habit of destroying the things she loved. Everything she touched died, or so it seemed. 

All she had left was getting drunk at the Alley, listening to Bonnie’s stupid favorite Jazz music on that damn Jukebox. Often Chica would be there with her. They usually did everything together. She’d even sneak her a pizza from time to time, even if it meant having to hose her down for yet another time that day, due to her being a very messy eater. It happened so often that they just put a trash bag into her stomach area, for easy cleaning. 

Apart from that small problem, Chica was very girly. She loved being at the saloon and ,oh man, did she love dates. Freddy was rather unromantic and obvious, so often they needed a little push, which she lovingly provided. She’d often catch glimpses of them on their little dates. It was simple stuff. Playing some golf, watching a movie in the daycare theater, that kinda stuff. It reminded her of the better times. But now she and her would talk about their feelings. But no matter how much she talked about it, screamed it into the world, it just would not get better. Freddy would check on her sometimes, they shared their grief, he lost his best friend after all. He grew protective over her, was careful all the time, walking on eggshells. It aggravated her more than it should, this behavioral change in him made her feel small, useless. He always had a caring and fatherly nature, but this was much, even for him. So, while he was trying to find kind and calming words for her, she was sitting at the bar with a glass in her hand, barely even registering what he was saying. It was the same stuff all the time anyway, “sorry”s and life advice that she had heard all the time else where. Luckily for her, Roxy knew better than to pity her or give her some silly advice and she mostly kept to herself in the Raceway anyway.

If it wasn’t Freddy or Chica bothering her in her quiet time it was Vanessa. She meant well, but damn. Ness had a talent for making jokes at the wrong time and just generally saying the wrong stuff at the wrong time. On good days they’d play a few rounds of bowling and talk about their old home, family and work gossip. It was a nice but more and more rare thing. At some point Ness suddenly started taking her job very serious. A little too serious. And she’d disappear a lot, seemingly dodging the security cams. She’d wouldn’t ask. She did the same back when Bonnie was still here, knew all the blind spots. 

God, she should know better than to sneak around. She’s a “talented Tech” after all, blah blah.

————————————

This day she returned from the Bowling Alley, a little more upset that usual. It was nothing more than her thoughts that were troubling her, the usual. Besides that, her watch was dead and needed recharging, which always was a sign that its time to return to her room. Making her way to Rockstar Row to have a last daily check up on the band, she met Monty halfway. He seemed more aggravated than usual, growling and being in a defensive state. This was nothing new for him, he was always acting like this. Nobody knew what exactly it was, maybe his programming. Or maybe it was just the way he was. Though, he was different back then. He used to be chill, almost innocent. But now? No emotions other than anger.

She liked to think deep down he was still the same, she never feared the animatronics, even at Monty’s wildest she stood up to him bravely without a thought but tonight felt different. 

They met, looked at each other. Not a word was spoken. It was completely silent, until he suddenly creeped closer. His heavy footsteps felt like hell, a possible death sentence, her sudden end. She often fantasized that she would end up like Bonnie. She didn’t know how he ”died” but she could imagine it if Monty was the one who caused it. Wrecked, torn apart, mangled.  Her mind would imagine how it felt. The feeling of being torn apart while alive. Was it painful or would her body block out the pain due to the trauma? She hoped she’d feel it. She wanted to feel it, to end up like him. 

She always knew her eventual death would be caused by Monty, or maybe Freddy, he was scary without the safety protocols. Or god, even by Bonnie himself when he was in one of his moods.. She’d be fine with that, honestly. But now, with a more than pissed Monty in front of her? Yea, probably him.

Monty’s issues being the reasons why, jealousy, envy, the pure rage he felt every time someone even mentioned the bunny. He couldn’t handle Bonnie being more popular than him. Something he wasn’t able to deal with in a healthy way. The jealousy tore him apart. Bonnie was the bassist, part of the main band. Monty was only part of his own one man band in his golf course. It was just him, nobody else. He had nothing to call his own. Maybe the golf course but back then, even that was just a half thing, Freddy would often be there. Even Bonnie would, all while Monty was banned from the Bowling Alley. It wasn’t fair. But what was fair in this place? Humans were replaced by Staff Bots that couldn’t even hold conversation or do the most basic tasks that they were programmed to do.

Or well, this was how things used to be. Back when Bonnie was here. Now Monty took his place. Every banner and poster had his face on it. He completely replaced him. Even on the huge main sign of the Pizzaplex. Perhaps this was the reason for Chica’s unhealthy food addiction. She’d be next to be replaced. And she just witnessed how easily replaceable she and her friends really were.

(Y/N) was there since the beginning, watching them and taking care of all of them. Not judging, only caring. Treating them as equals. It made Monty feel a certain way. He didn’t know these feelings or understood them, but he knew Bonnie felt the same way towards her. Only was she closer to him. Way closer. Yet again, something that he can’t have.

And now they stood there, just staring at each other. Complete silence. 

He was furious. He didn’t even know why. The smallest things caused this. Perhaps a string of his bass broke. But it wasn’t really HIS, was it? Or maybe it was him losing his shades again. The shades that didn’t originally belong to him. So, he started smashing stuff in his green room. Bonnie’s former green room. Nothing is truly his, is it? There it was. The reason. The anger. 

And now before him stood the fourth “not his”. Something he knew he couldn’t just break and get a replacement for. A human can’t be rebuilt after all. It took everything in him to not lash out on the spot. To dig his claws into her flesh and leave bite marks all over her body. Instead he just stood there, silent. Getting a little closer, just close enough to read her vitals. She was nervous…she was scared. He took notice of her watch, it was empty and turned off. Meaning she couldn’t call for help even if she wanted to. What good would help do anyway? Before anyone could reach them it would be too late. Why was he having these thoughts? All he knew was that he had to remove himself from the situation right now or else bad things would happen.

And so he did. Walking past her. Stopping for a short moment to look at her. He wondered what she felt when she looked at him with these shades, the bass or the stupid room. Would it bring them closer eventually or drift them apart further? Did she see a part of Bonnie in him or an imposter who forcefully took his spot? Maybe she had the mercy to just think of him as the killer of her lover. 

Continuing on his way towards Gator Golf, she was left alone. Still, she stood there, her heart eventually calming down but thoughts still racing. She was sure she was one word away from getting torn apart, but god, she wished she spoke it.

[astoundingbeyondbelief]

Kaiju Weeks in Review (September 10-30, 2023)

I adore Godzilla Final Wars, but it's a movie with an identity crisis, unsure whether it wants to be headlining a Toho Champion Festival or mesmerizing American teenagers at a mid-aughts multiplex. @spacehunter-m's Final Wars 2004: The Year We Make Corn-Tack gives it a strong tug in the first direction, whittling the runtime down to 77 minutes and replacing most of the music and sound effects. She was inspired by Space Warriors 2000, of all things; as she put it, both films are "largely comprised of nonstop, monotonous action." As in that bizarro Ultraman compilation film, the kaiju trash-talk each other. It makes you wonder why Ryuhei Kitamura didn't at least bring back the speech bubbles from Godzilla vs. Gigan. Kaiju fan edits are rare, and this is in a class all by itself. Download it here.

Shigeru Kayama's novelizations of Godzilla (1954) and Godzilla Raids Again are out—hopefully the first of many to come. My copy only arrived on Saturday, so I haven't had the chance to read the whole thing yet, but I've made it through Godzilla. It's interesting to see Kayama, who wrote the initial treatment, take another swing at the story after the film was finished. He puts back moments like Godzilla eating a cow and attacking a lighthouse, and is also more overt with the wartime allusions. There's an incredible moment where Dr. Yamane muses that studying Godzilla and learning his secrets could be Japan's way of redeeming itself after "caus[ing] a great deal of trouble to people throughout the world." Note that these are novella-length, so much less in-depth than the novelizations of American Godzilla films you might be used to (Godzilla Raids Again is less than 80 pages). The book ends with an afterword by translator Jeffrey Angles contextualizing the tales.

Godzilla: War for Humanity continues to be a standout IDW miniseries. There's a new and very weird monster in the second issue, plus a no-nonsense Mothra (she tries to recruit Godzilla to fight Zoospora by shooting him in the back of the head and dragging him into the ocean in front of Minilla).

I've also got to mention the solicitation for another Godzilla Rivals installment, due December 20. Nola Pfau is writing, Megan Huang is illustrating.

Jen Onça is not excited to start her new, fast-paced fast-food career at Minilla Burger, but she'd much prefer a mundane day to the sudden return of Megalon! The monster brings destruction, trapping Jen in a forgotten lab deep beneath the restaurant with only the half-built form of Jet Jaguar to help her get out! She must repair the robotic defender to save herself and the city, but first she needs to escape the rubble trapping her in this tense adventure!

Yuzo the Biggest Battle in Tokyo, Yoshikazu Ishii's follow-up to Attack of the Giant Teacher, has also been picked up by SRS Cinema. No release details yet. I can't really speak to the film either, since it screened at the same time as Yumiko Shaku's panel at G-Fest, but as you can see from the poster, it's set during the pandemic.

The GAMERA -Rebirth- Gyaos has joined Godzilla Battle Line as an unusual sort of swarm unit. Your first summon of the match calls forth two sub-adults, and by the fifth summon you're sending out two sub-adults and three adults, still for four energy. They're probably the best swarm in the game, though still highly vulnerable to AOE units like Godzilla '01. I'm having fun with them in the Challenge Battles.

Notzilla, one of the sharpest kaiju comedies out there, is unexpectedly getting the graphic novel treatment. Mitch Teemley is adapting his own screenplay, with art by Zumart Putra. The comic is already finished, although I'm not clear on how folks who didn't back the Kickstarter (which wrapped on September 11) will get it. Useless trivia: the terrific cover above (one of four) is by Ben Dunn, who wrote the How to Draw Manga book I poured over in middle school.

After Troll shattered Netflix streaming records (according to Netflix), it's not super surprising that the company wants a sequel. Priority one: coming up with a title that's not Troll 2. Screenwriter Espen Aukan and director Roar Uthaug will both return.

Toy highlights of the past few weeks:

After confusing everyone by teasing its silhouette the day before April Fools', Tamashii has fully unveiled an S.H.Monsterarts Godzilla '72, a rare Showa figure from the line. It comes with two heads, one of them bloodied (see above). Due at the end of February.

After finally running out of ways to repaint their mold of Hedorah's Perfect Stage, Bandai is making a Movie Monster Series figure of the kaiju's Landing Stage. A Godzilla Store exclusive, it'll be released October 25.

After over two years, Funko is releasing a trio of Godzilla Singular Point Pops. Hopefully they go all-out with this show—it's not like there's any other plausible way for a Satomi Kanahara figure to exist.