#Though at the same time it would be fun...........

[youngdragon463]

1: Yes

2: My brother

3: No

4: Yes

5: Single

6: Clinging onto every ounce of life I have left all the while forcing myself to stay concious as long as possible. I dont know if Ill get another chance, so I want to go out making sure I dont leave a second unlived

7: Kabab

8: Football, Soccer. Liked neither

9: Yes

10: playing with my brother

11: I like a lot of people, however none of that is romantic or sexual.

12: No

13: I dont think so

14: Yes I miss my mom I am on a trip currently

15: Many, 3 dog 5 cat

16:

17: No

18: Yes

19: No, never, not in a million years

20: I havent

21: Continue coding a silly little minecraft project

22: Im 50/50. Im not opposed to the idea some day. The amount doesnt really matter.

23: No

24: Math and science

25: I think yes, I havent had many friends but I have moved a couple times

26: Dark Chocolate coated Caramel sprinkled in corse salt

27: I hope not, I havent been in a relationship so probobly no

28: No

29: No

30: Coding is hard

31: I have many people who care for me. I am compleatly oblivous if anyone is attracted 5k me however but I think not.

32: Azure

33: No

34: Tensura

35: My Mother

36: Others might think so, but my logic is as long as their capable of wanting change thats enough for me.

37: Forgive, I refuse to forget I will grasp onto every memory I can

38: I think so

39: Older than I am now

40: No

41: Soup

42: No, their is no true reason for anything, the beauty of intelligent life is that they created the concept of meaning

43: Bathroom

44: No, if your done with a relationship end it before you do somthing with someone else, if your not in a situation to do so, fight for a safe enviornment

45: No, I will only be mean in jest. I belive a lot of people have gentleness confused with "softness"

46: Depends on your meaning, technically ive never been in a real fight, but I have come to blows with my brother, most of the time its for fun not for argument and never serious enough to draw blood.

47: Yes and no, I dont belive in the idea that some people are just magically perfect for eachother on contact. But I do belive that you can foster a truly healthy bond with another by learning and growing from eachother

48: Rain

49: Yes

50: Im not opposed to the idea but I doubt I would find someone for me and that concept doesnt bother me. The marrage itself doesnt matter to me anyone I form a sufficently strong bond with automatically becomes someone I want to spend time with. I dont truly understand the concept of romanticism.

51: Ive never been called such so I dont know how id feel.

52:

53: No I would not change it but having multiple would be cool. In a lot of fantasy many powerful entities have mutiple names and one true name that holds power over their being. I would want a true name and possibly another one so my govt/actual name, my true name, and my personally/altetnate name I just think it would be neat, it wouldnt like be different personalitys or identies though more just like different things to call me.

54: No

55: I cant even be my compleat self in isolation what do you think?

56: I would want to talk about it with them so I can truly understand how they feel and why. I would want to handle the situation delicatly and explain to them that while I dont feel the same I do have an increadible bond with them and I dont want them to drift away because of it.

57: My Step Mother

58: My Mother

59: No

60: Yes my closest friends and family. Their is no pain I wouldnt endure to keep them safe.

The post whent from 40 to 51 so theres only 60. That took a while

@the-fallen-collective

70 horrible questions ... Fuck it

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 03: Do you regret anything? 04: Are you insecure? 05: What is your relationship status? 06: How do you want to die? 07: What did you last eat? 08: Played any sports? 09: Do you bite your nails? 10: When was your last physical fight? 11: Do you like someone? 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 14: Do you miss someone? 15: Have any pets? 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? 18: Are you scared of spiders? 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? 21: What are your plans for this weekend? 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? 26: What are you craving right now? 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 28: Have you ever been cheated on? 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? 30: What’s irritating you right now? 31: Does somebody love you? 32: What is your favourite color? 33: Do you have trust issues? 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 38: Is this year the best year of your life? 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 51: Favourite food? 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? 54: Is cheating ever okay? 55: Are you mean? 56: How many people have you fist fought? 57: Do you believe in true love? 58: Favourite weather? 59: Do you like the snow? 60: Do you wanna get married? 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? 62: What makes you happy? 63: Would you change your name? 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 70: Is there anyone you would die for?

[heartyluv]

—Click Here— for Camboy!Caleb masterlist!

Note: They’re so filthy, (I say as if I’m not the one writing it). I hope you enjoy, luvlys! ;)

Warning: Sub!Caleb, he’s begging, handjob, cock ring and brief attempt of pocket pussy use (you’ll see why), you kindaaa dom him (again, you’ll see why i said kinda), you have to be quiet 🤫, use of ‘good boy’, cum licking, brief mention of spit, you end up sitting on his cock (i think i got it all)

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: You and your husband try out some new toys.

SubbyCamboy!Caleb/Reader

“She sleep?” Caleb asks once you enter your bedroom and silently shut the door with a gentle click of the lock to follow.

“Out like a light,” you grin. You would forever be thankful for your precious three year old daughter who made bedtime the easiest thing on the planet. Because of her simplicity and general love for sleep—since she gets to be surrounded by her dozens of plushies—, it allowed you and Caleb to almost always have some alone time when the sun set. Whether it be basking in comfortable silence together while watching a movie or silently indulging in each other’s bodies, it was a gift you never took for granted.

“You still up for tonight?”

He sets his phone down, shrugging with a faux nonchalant smile like he isn’t buzzing with the same level of excitement as you. “I’m ready to go if you are.”

Biting your lip, you scurry over to him and lean down to where he sits in the bed, kissing him deeply and squealing when he keeps you close in your efforts to try to pull away. Once you’re finally released with a generous slap to the ass by your husband, you go to your tall dresser and open the drawer to pull out the fresh bottle of lube and the new toys you cleaned when they arrived earlier.

“I remember when I used to watch you use something like this one.” You inspect the pocket pussy, the memories of gawking at Caleb on your phone screen when you were once strangers in a fan to content creator relationship, flooding your mind. He would spill his cum into the one he once owned as he cursed under his breath at the same time you’d rub your clit faster to catch up with him.

Good times. But they were even better, now. Now he was your man, the father of your beautiful Sloane Xia, and most importantly, your best friend.

“Mhm. And I remember it was one of your favorites,” he smirked. “I think you were one of the first to send in a request for a personal video of me using it.”

Your cheeks heated. It was a shot in the dark—or so you thought. It took all of you to drop the embarrassment and just send him the $100, along with asking for a video of him fucking the realistic enough vagina model. Not only did he do it and got to it quicker than you anticipated, but he consistently chanted out about how badly he wished it was you he was fucking and filling up.

That video fundamentally rewired your brain, and you still have it to this day.

At the time, you knew it was simply for the content and to ensure that his viewer get their moneys worth. But now that your life looks the way it does, you wondered if he unintentionally spoke his desires into the universe and was ultimately granted his wish.

Once on your side of the bed, you sit down on top of the covers that Caleb’s beneath, handing him the cock ring first.

You and Caleb rarely used toys when you officially got together. The only thing that would make an appearance in your sex life would be your trusty pink vibrating wand, but other than that—you two preferred to find ways to please each other with what you were equipped with. It was more fun that way—to try and find new positions, as well as other things to spice it up.

It was last week that you brought up wanting to try some out. After seeing a couple you two were friends with who created similar content use a cock ring in their video, you couldn’t resist showing Caleb. He was more than willing to do it, especially when he saw how turned on it made you.

“I’ve never seen you use one of these, though.”

He takes the little contraption, inspecting it with pursed lips. “I did once, but I never recorded it.”

Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped. “You used a cock ring and I never knew?!”

“You never asked, pretty. Besides, it didn’t do much for me.”

“No?” you tease. “Did it do this?”

You press the silver button, the gentle buzz of the ring sounding.

“It absolutely did not do that,” he said astounded with a deep chuckle. The vibrating in his hand immediately sent blood rushing to his cock.

“Are you hard?” you cooed, shutting off the ring and palming him through his boxers on top of the covers.

“A little, yeah.”

You open and close your other hand, gesturing for him to hand it over. “Let me see.”

Caleb groans when your hand slides away from him. Already shirtless, he throws the sheet off his body, sitting up more so he can inch his underwear down enough to release his semi-hard dick.

“Aht,” you scold flirtatiously. “All the way off.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Your pussy throbs at how quickly and well he listens without hesitation. You eye his thick length while he follows your instruction, and open the bottle of lube. Putting a little on your index and middle finger, you generously lather the inner part of the ring so that it can slide onto him with ease, similarly to how your cunt sucks him inside of you.

“Remember, babe,” you get closer, trying to remain stoic, but that nearly fails as you admire his twitching cock. “You gotta stay quiet. Get too loud, and I’ll have to stop.”

“I’ll stay quiet,” he nods, his hips already bucking for some kind of relief. “I promise.”

At the same time that you begin to kiss his lips, your work the vibrating device onto one of your favorite things in the world, smiling into it when his moans prettily pour into you mouth.

“Safe word?”

“A—apple,” he chokes out. “Fuck baby, p—please do something...”

“I know, I know.” You kiss his jaw and when his head tilts back to welcome your love, you press the button again to send shivers down his spine.

The whimpering and near cries erupt from him as if you’ve struck a gold a mine. Pulling back to get a full look at your husband, you can’t help but feel a different kind of love to see him so vulnerable and submissive with you. With his back against the headboard, his cheeks and nose bridge sport a perfect dusty pink.

“Tell me how you feel, baby.”

“S—so good…This feels so good—hah…I need you, pretty. I need you so bad…” He’s an absolute mess and it has you dripping in your panties.

“You want me?” You wrap your hand around the head of his cock, adding the slightest bit of pressure. To suppress his moans, he bites down on his lip so hard that you’re sure it hurts.

He nods vigorously, his hair tickling his forehead with each shake. “I want your pussy, baby…I need my wife. I—I want my wife so much…” Each intake of breath is sharp—needy.

Your heart rate increases the more he pleads for you. You bring your mouth just above his flushed tip and spit on it, working him in your hand slowly. Precum seeps out, adding to the mixture of fluids that you wish your slick was a part of.

But right now? This was all about him.

“If you want me to sit on your cock, I need you to be my good boy. Can you do that?”

He nearly combusts at your words and the way you pump him in your soft palm. Along with the delectable sensation of the ring at the base of his cock, he feels like he’s died and went to a heaven where this was nothing short of paradise.

“Y—yes…I’m gonna be good,” he promises pathetically. “I’ll be good. Anything. Tell me, a—and I’ll do it. I’ll do anything for you.”

“Awww, my sweet baby.” Your nipples strain beneath your tank top, reminding you that you’re far too dressed. But that only adds to your excitement.

“I want you to hold your cum. You think you can do that for me?”

Just as you say that, more dribbles out and trails down his length.

“I don’t know,” he shakes his head, sweat beading at his temple. He juts his hips up to try and make you jerk him off faster, but you tsk, reminding him that he must stay still. “B—baby, I don’t think I can. I’m gonna cum a—already.”

“Then you won’t get to fuck me, will you?”

“That’s not fair!” he cries. The wet sounds of you fisting him and the vibrations moving through his balls only brings him closer to his impending delightful doom. “Y—you have to take it off! I’m gonna…Fuck! I’m about to—”

Immediately, you stop. “Are you getting loud with me?”

His chest rises and falls with disappointment and desperation. But even when you stop, the cock ring is still on and giving him the pleasure you ceased. So without you needing to do a thing, he can’t hold back, nor does he want to. His cum shoots out abruptly, thick and pearly white streams landing on your shirt and the exposed upper area of your tits.

Growing far too loud, you place a hand over his mouth—despite how much you wish you could hear him. He mumbles incoherent words, his eyebrows knitting as his breath fans against your hand the more his composure dissipates. His abs flex with each uncontrollable convulsion and you keep your other hand wrapped around him, letting his hot load make a mess on your knuckles.

Even if he hadn’t done what you said, you could never deny the fact that he still looks so fucking ethereal.

You frown as you gently slide the ring off once he’s relaxed. “You didn’t listen.”

He hisses, cock still incredibly sensitive. “I tried, princess,” he defends himself through bated breath. “Don’t be mad at me. Let me make it up to you. ‘M sorry, I couldn’t help it…”

“No need to say sorry.” You take the now sticky dark blue ring, bringing it you your mouth to lick up some of his cum. He watches you with hooded eyes as your tongue laps up his spend like a delicacy, the need to go again stirring within him once more.

“But you shouldn’t be inside of me tonight, right? Since you can’t seem to follow directions.”

“Wait—”

“Safe word?” you interrupt.

“I know the word.”

“Good. Then say it like I told you to.”

Yeah, he’s hard again. “Apple.”

You grab the pocket pussy off the bed and hand it to him. He looks at you confused as he takes itwhile you stand and pull your clothes off.

“You’re gonna watch me touch myself while you fuck that. I want you to think about how better you’ll do in the future when you watch my fingers inside of me, taking your place.”

“No.” He says the word like you’ve given him the ultimate punishment.

Getting on top of the blankets once more, you rest on your elbows with your legs spread wide to give him the perfect view. It’s like he’s mated to you—like he can smell your desire—and it drives him mad to be separated from it. Your fingers go between your thighs and you gather the slick that’s already found its way to your aching clit.

“That wasn’t a question. I’ll come without you if I have to, baby,” you push out. Your lips part when you shove one of your fingers inside your tight hole, the heat consuming your slender digit. “Y—you’re still my good boy, aren’t you?”

Reluctantly, Caleb takes the pocket pussy, dramatically feeling a part of himself dwindle away the more he stares at your pretty, wet, and real one. He brings it down onto his cock, his cum helping him to enter without any restriction.

“I am.” He keeps his eyes on everything you’re doing. From the way you circle your clit to the way you fondle your tits.

The room echos with all the wet and obscene sounds the both of your bodies make. Caleb matches you, pleasing himself with the model the faster your fingers swirl against your sensitive nub. You ogle at what he’s doing too, but the more you watch, the more you grow impatient.

The facade you attempted to uphold cracks effortlessly at the seams. You try to resist, but you and him will forever be drawn together like magnets.

“I can’t…” you mumble, quickly sitting up and pulling the pocket pussy off of your husband like it’s insulting you. Straddling him, he eagerly accepts you and grabs your flesh hungrily. When you guide his dick into your quivering and soaked hole, the immediate connection is otherworldly.

The feeling of him in your walls will never fail to consume you. “I couldn’t help it…”

This is why you found it hard to take control. You weren’t disciplined enough and punishing him would always be far too punishing for you. But Caleb didn’t give a damn. He would let you try every single time if that’s what you wanted.

“Take what you need from me.” He looks at you with so much reverence. “I told you, I’m still your good boy…”

To keep your sounds at bay, you make out with him heatedly, and the teeth that slightly clattered didn’t deter you one bit.

A creamy ring quickly forms at his base and you bounce on his cock no more than five times before he’s flooding you with his seed and you’re squeezing him tightly the moment your orgasm claims you.

You grind against him lazily until you can no longer take anymore.

“I tried it, didn’t I?” you giggle, a string of saliva falling to your chin when you pull away from the intense exchange. He huffs out a laugh through his nose.

“Sex doesn’t have any rules. No matter what role we try to play, the ultimate goal?” He smiles when you look into his eyes. “To make each other feel good. I say we’ve done that successfully, no?”

“I guess. Next time, though,” you whisper. “I’m so gonna nail it.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Oh, shut up!” You quickly cover your mouth when you realize your volume.

“You getting loud with me?” he teases, using your words against you.

“Nu-uh, you better use that damn pocket pussy.”

“Until you use that safe word.” He moves your hips. “I’m staying right here.”

“You’re so lucky I love you,” you shake your head, tugging on your bottom lip.

“The luckiest man in the world.”

A/N: For the sake of the plot, I aged their daughter up, but I will still write some cute and fluffy stuff with her tiny and them navigating parenthood! I wrote this with the intention of thinking of how some people would be if they saw their fine ass partner using a pocket pussy when they’re sitting right there, hot and ready. I know I couldn’t hold out LOLLLL!!!

Creds to @/bbyg4rlhelps and @/enchanthings-a for the dividers!

Tags 🏷️: @innergardentoadpony @teacupwaifu @mcdepressed290 @calebapplepie @xcelfer @honeymoonfleur @obeythebutler @ajyoursgirl @notsurewhattocallthisblog8888 @honeycrispangels @dummiebunny @sucre-princesse @brailsthesmolgurl @klossnite @grlyeetswrld @beesin03 @dramaticalsachan @moonchildjae00 @asiatic-apple @callads7 @caien @stargirlygirl @multisstuff @littledarlingsthings @purpleamethyst25 @lazygelpen @floatinginaer @meadowinthesky @floatinginaer @grackerzzz @nod4mnm3rcyy @loveinorion @ur-l0cal-crypt1d @inutrasha94 @cowaungabungabby @gravity-pilot @nyanahogini @rosiesluv @goochfiddler99 @torturedbabyapple @kiyadeleine @carcelswaifu @blushofeve @whattnanii @asiaticapple @ashirelle @sylvieisoffline @saturnquartz @dewmarionette @sweetcalebb

[kurizz]

Pink Poly Club (miromabby) Part 2

click for part 1

Summary: Mira had a solo interview—at least, that’s what she thought. But right when it started, two pink-haired boys showed up and joined in. What was meant to be calm quickly turned into a chaotic interview with all three of them. No one knew what was going to happen next.

Word Count: 1250

a/n: im bad w titles and posting. lets just say this is part two even though there's no significant connection between the first fic i posted.

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

“What do you think of the ship MiRomAbby?” the host asked Mira.

With a forced smile, she looked at the camera. “I think our fans are creative, but there’s nothing going on between us.”

The audience let out a chorus of disappointed “Aww”s and suspicious “Hmm”s, some clearly thinking she was lying. She wasn’t though.

“Is that so?” the host asked. He stood up and turned to face the crowd. The studio lights were blinding, but his smile was even brighter—like he had something up his sleeve. “Actually, we have surprise guests today. Would you like to meet them now, folks?”

Mira’s brows furrowed. She sat up straight. She hadn’t been informed of this.

“LET US ALL CHEER for Romance and Abby of Saja Boys!”

The crowd went wild—but Mira’s heart went wilder.

What? They’re here?!

No one told her. No one warned her.

Fans squealed and chanted as the boys made their entrance, the guys had their eyes immediately locked in on her. Their smiles teased with a sweet charm that made the air a little warmer.

She averted her gaze, ignoring the weird tingling feeling in her chest. Stop it, Mira.

They waved at the crowd like boy band royalty, soaking in the cheers of the people. Mira didn’t move. She was trying to compose herself.

They took their respective seats on either side of her. She noticed how they were always like this, keeping her in the middle. It was like this during their fansign event, and it's the same now.

Mira tried to play it cool, but the host had other ideas.

“So, who confessed first? Was it Mira?”

 She was visibly taken aback, “As if! Nobody confessed anything—”

“Yet.” Abby cut her off playfully.

 The crowd was loving this. Mira, not so much.

“I’ve asked Mira. About time we hear your answers too.” The smug look on the host’s face was irritating. “What do you think of MiRomAbby?”

“Oh, we heard there were rumors,” Romance stated, throwing his arm across the back of the couch. “And we thought, why not confirm everything?”

“What?” Mira whipped her head in his direction. He met her gaze with a sweetly masked innocence.

Abby nodded, “Yeah. Like, confirm that we’re all just friends…with really good chemistry.”

The host cackled, clearly thriving. “So no truth to the MiRomAbby ship?”

Romance lazily leaned in. “I mean, unless Mira wants to change her answer.”

“I don’t.” Mira blinked, her response quick.

“You sound so sure.” Abby chuckled in amusement. It was close to her ear, making her shift in her seat.

“Because I am sure.” her gaze sharp and challenging.

The host clapped his hands together, bringing the attention back to him. “Alright, time for a little fun. We’ve got some stuff prepared that were highly requested—”

Mira huffed. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“—from your fans.” The host grinned. “Let’s start off with a classic: the heart monitor game!”

Some staff emerged from the sidelines to stick the sensor patches onto them. Their heart rates appeared on the big screen for everyone to see. Mira’s was already elevated, while the boys’ were on the lower side.

“Seems like someone’s a little nervous…” Romance teased, his voice smooth and low.

Mira took a deep breath. “It’s because I’m annoyed. That’s all.”

His brow quirked upwards, a small grin playing on his lips. Ugh, why is she even looking at him?

“And now it’s time for some Truth or Dare.” The host barely let the tension settle. “This one comes from sajaxhuntrix4ever. They said: ‘I dare you to hold hands for 10 minutes. If you let go, you’ll have to redo. P.S. We love you and support pink poly!’”

Mira’s blood ran cold. The cheers were deafening.

“Now that’s one way to start the game,” the host laughed. “Alright then, the timer starts once you hold hands.”

Abby offered his hand to her, head slightly tilted, eyes sparkling with a playful glint. “Whenever you’re ready, Mira.”

He said her name slowly, like he was enjoying the sound of it on his mouth. Her heart was already thudding in her chest. She glanced up at the screen and saw the BPM number climbing higher. No. Calm down.

With an abrupt motion, she grabbed both their hands without another thought. Let’s get this over with.

The timer began.

Romance shifted into a more comfortable position and casually readjusted his hold on her. He slid his warm fingers between hers, lacing them together with a satisfied hum. Mira chose to ignore it.

“Okay, next one is from the user supremecolorpink. They asked: ‘Why can’t you just date? Don’t worry, we support you!’”

Mira sighed. “I appreciate all the support, but it’s simply because I’m not… interested.”

That slight hesitation. What happened to being sure, Mira?

“That's not a very nice joke,” Abby teased, bringing their intertwined hands on his chest with a sly smile. “Not even a spark of interest?”

Yeah, no, I'm definitely not interested...right..?

She could feel the warmth of his chest seeping into the back of her hand. Her throat suddenly felt dry, “Enough. Next.”

“Between Romance and Abby, who do you like more?”

The two boys exchanged glances.

“None.” Mira was quick with it, her eyes shut tight with restraint.

More ridiculous questions followed, and somehow, she managed to get through them. When does this end?

The host chuckled before he read the next card. Upon reading, his eyes widened a fraction. “Ah, finally, another dare—and it’s a fan favorite: the Pepero Game!”

The room erupted in cheers of excitement, but it was nothing compared to the pounding in Mira’s chest. No, not like this.

The host took notice and didn't miss a beat.

“Well, would you look at that? Someone’s excited.”

Excited?

Mira looked to her left, as if trying to hide her face from the crowd. Things were starting to feel uncomfortable, and her shoulders grew tense. She didn't like this. She wanted to make the fans happy but not at the expense of her own. The room now feels suffocating.

Suddenly, she felt gentle, comforting rubs on both her hands, like it was trying to help her relax. She slowly glanced down at one hand, then the other—then up at their faces. They weren't even looking at her but their thumbs were rubbing soft soothing circles on her hands.

“Alright, Mira, you’ll need to choose a partner—” the host began, already scanning between Romance and Abby with a grin.

But before he could finish, Abby raised his free hand with a chuckle, “Actually, I think we’re overdue for a water break. I might pass out.”

A few people laughed from the crowd. Some were concerned.

Romance nodded, grinning. “Yeah, I’m thirsty too.”

“Oh look, the timer’s up. We can let go now.” he added.

Romance and Abby gently released Mira’s hands. She blinked, still trying to process the sudden shift. They removed the sensor patch from Mira's body, both their eyes fixed on her face.

“You’re thirsty too, right, Mira?” Abby asked softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

“Come on, let’s go.”

That’s when they led her backstage.

Minutes later, a staff member whispered to the host that the three idols had slipped away, mentioning something about an emergency.

Whispers began to swirl instantly. Fans speculated wildly, their phones lighting up with theories and guesses. Had they ditched the show?

The buzz didn’t die down for the rest of the night.

________

click for part 3

it's so embarassing that i dont know how to use this thing </3 i feel like a grandma but im not that old i swear (or maybe i am) im just not a tumblr typa gal. dont laugh at me or maybe do, as long as it makes u happy. you can suggest stuff so it would help me have ideas. like, be it fluffy, angsty, or spicy. just a teeny bit spicy, like this tho 🤏🏻 nothing too crazy unless… i didnt say ill be writing them all so dont keep your hopes up. if you say please then maybe i would reconsider 😮‍💨

@suzieq1948374 @hillyj579

[lovebyeler]

a rant on mlvn & their shippers. inspired by this post i saw on twt

one thing i noticed about mlvn fans is that whenever bylers point out a fact that is objectively true, either confirmed by the cast/producers or is said explicitly in the show, the first thing they do is call us names and deny it.

as much as i dislike mlvn, i see how someone could ship it by seeing it closer to the way they're portrayed in the show; a sort of puppy crush turned into push-pull relationship whose sides need to be truthful to themselves & understand each other better to make it work. i could see the appeal in this type of dynamic and if this was how they actually saw mlvn.

however, my main problem with mlvns is that instead of seeing them for what they are, they portay them as an example of somehow perfect couple - they'd rather twist words said in the show than admit that they're a troubled pair. they romantize the version of mlvn in their head instead of looking deeper into the show & will make fun of you if you do that.

the "and i knew right then and there [...] that i loved you" fragment of mike's monologue has been proved to be a lie multiple times from multiple sources. they would have to retcon things established in season one for this to be true. mike never was shown to like her from the start, he just happened to be the most empathetic one from the party and only started liking/crushing on her later (depending on your interpretation). besides, the show quite literally makes fun of love at first sight & the writers said they don't believe in it as well. and in the said tiktok screenshot, it's not bylers theorizing even - it's literally what finn has said.

you could still believe that mike loves eleven while lying & exeggarating things in the monologue so he could save her. that's sort of romantic as well if you want to see it in that light - he's willing to be fake to save her, however eleven is mad at him for that reason, and then lesson of mlvn in next season would be that you don't need to lie in order to save your relationship. but wait, wouldn't that be a repeat of season 3 & 4 where it was shown not to work regardless? 🤔 besides, i could still see how someone could possibly defend this.

but no, they cling to that damn monologue like it's their bible. they themselves exeggerate their love instead of just looking at them like it's a regular relationship. they downplay their lies, their problems for the sake of shipping it. at this point i'm starting to wonder if they ship it cause they actually like their dynamic or do they ship it cause they like them together visually?

that's the biggest difference between bylers and mlvns for me. bylers look deeper into their negative side of their ship, pick apart their flaws yet this doesn't dismantle their relationship but support it. why won't mlvn do the same when they have a bunch of that going on their ship as well? if we see proof by analyzing byler fights, can't they do that instead of downplaying them? unless deep analysis won't help mlvn... which is possibly the case. that's why they choose to ignore it. but that's another topic. i think i'd still appreciate them more if they actually tried, though.

anyways, that'll be the end of my long rant. it's ironic to me how much byler shippers are called delusional because they dare to analyze the show when mlvn's whole ship is build upon false romantized image of it, don't you think?

[forgottenwriter]

Honestly, this is really important. Let me tell you all a little story. This happened many, many, many years ago. Back when I was a little trans baby who didn't even know she was trans yet. I was 16, on the internet, and having a great time. As you did in those far off days, I joined an internet forum - for those of you who don't know what they were, think of it like Twitter back when it was twitter, but also long and also not very much like Twitter!

So anyway, I made a friend and he was a great guy. He was also 16, and the two of us hit it off right away. He was smart and funny, and deeply caring about the world and the people in it.

He was also gay and from the deep south. His parents were less than supportive, but he seemed to not let that get him down. We became fast friends, and over the years, grew pretty close. In retrospect, he had a crush on me, but I was always trans even when I didn't admit it to myself, so that was going nowhere. I could never be what he wanted me to be, so I just didn't approach that route.

As the years went on, my friend started to change. He got cynical, angry at the world. It came from a place of hurt and pain; his parents continued to wound him, he felt as though the world was turning against him. he fought as hard as he could, but it seemed as if even his own people were turning on him.

Of course, the thing that I never said - and I should have, but I was young and anxious and didn't want to lose one of my best friends in the world - is that part of why this all was happening was that he'd internalized what his parents had taught him. He thought he was free of it, but like a seed they'd planted in him, it just waited to flower. It fed on his frustration and anger, and offered him an easy solution.

He didn't have to try to understand. He didn't have to try to look at things from other people's point of view. Other people were just wrong. And he was allowed to speak over and demean them because he was right and that was how the world worked.

Some of the stuff he ended up saying was terrible, and I remember thinking at one point ''This is your parents speaking. You've swapped out the word ''gay'' for ''trans'' but it's the same sentence with the same meaning and the same intent. You've embraced them without even knowing it.''

When I last spoke to him, when I ended our friendship once and for all, he'd convinced himself that democracy was a mistake. That education was a mistake, that the majority of people simply did not deserve to be educated and only enlightened rulers - which naturally, would include him and a few other gay people, but with no mention of any other minorities - deserved full rights.

Tl;dr don't assume that just because you're a minority, it means you're free of bias. If you live in toxicity, if you're surrounded by it, it will cling to you. That's what makes it so dangerous. You can carry it for years and decades without ever knowing and at some point, when you're weakest, when you're tired and angry and sad and want someone to blame? That seed will flower and a few years after that, you'll be one of those very same people who make you feel so sick right now.

That's human nature. That's how it works. None of us are perfect beings who can always be sure we're in the right. Check yourself. introspect your thoughts. Above all else, never assume that you're right just because something feels right. Righteous anger is good and satisfying and addictive because we're evolved to find it that way.

But that doesn't mean it works or makes the situation any better.

Don't lose yourself like my friend did. He was miserable in the end, and I don't think he's going to have a fun life in the future either. Support and love each other, stand up for each other. Be the kind of person you wish existed to stand up for you.

Many lgbt teenagers and young adults growing up on the internet today have socially conservative beliefs that they voice at all times that they got from their conservative parents which they’ve never challenged because they think the life experience of being gay or trans makes them politically progressive

[bewitched-hours]

Hello! Yeah me again asking abt the noli and 07 yandere thing (lord I feel weird asking again I don’t want to be a bother) It’s just the last one you wrote was really and I mean really WELL written and I was hoping to ask for a part 2 of how things go? Hacking together, speaking, debating life—just quite cool! I already sent you the link of the past one I was talking about so I hope thats alright!

HI- YEAH- I SAW IT LOL I only saw it at school tbf so I'm starting it with this and have the story opened in another tab to make sure I don't forget anything (•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑

The reader's pronouns are once again She/They-

Pre-Forsaken

All three of you sat on opposite sides of 007 as you looked at the child in his arms.

"It's kinda cute..." You tried to end the silence comfortably as you could see the man soften. Noli didn't look so tough either for a change.

Though the red bundle of joy was giddy now, you knew it was only a matter of time until it got hungry...

"What are we meant to do with it..?" Noli asked quietly, watching as the baby held onto 007's fingers with glee. It honestly melted your heart a bit.

"I say we keep it." You state bluntly, surprised eyes meeting your own as you went to quickly explain yourself. "Think about it. If we drop it off somewhere else it would probably reach the same path as us if it survives anyways."

The two of them gave each other an unsure look before you gently lifted the child out of 7n7's arms with a huff. "I'm not saying we'd be great parents or anything but it'd definitely be better than the foster system or death." Your tone was firm but they could tell you were empathising with that little red face giggling up at you.

Maybe you were trying to prove something to yourself. That you were better than your family? Maybe that you can actually take care of something meaningful?

Whatever, it wasn't like either of them could say no by the time you started cooing at the baby all motherly.

"Heh, guess you're right." 007 perked up first, getting you to smile a bit more.

Wether it was to make you happy or they actually liked the idea, you couldn't care less. What mattered was that this child was safe with you.

"We should totally call it after the c00lgui." You commented with a chuckle, having Noli cackling and 007 trying to suppress his laugh.

"Yeah- no- this is good- So c00lkidd?" He suggested, letting out a laugh at your grinning nod. It was silly, it was unusual...

It was perfect.

"It'll be the perfect addition! Plus, I have some experience back when I had a babysitting gig to save up some money as a kid myself. We'll just need to get a few things and c00lkidd is gonna be spoiled with love!" You practically beamed and placed a gentle kiss on the little one's head, going back to cooing at it as it giggled in your arms.

Being a family might just be easier than you thought...

Post-Forsaken

For once, 007 probably appreciated being an outsider.

It meant more time with you. More time with Noli.

You were quick to figure out a spot to all meet in where neither killers nor survivors would even hear you.

It was perfect, especially whenever Noli decided to bring along c00lkidd and you could just talk for a while.

CK loved you. He loved the idea of having a big family like this where you could be his mom. You played nice and fair and actually managed to tire him out at times.

Though he didn't understand why it was such a taboo to play tag outside of rounds, he trusted your explanation that it was because it was less fun with only you four and the other survivors wouldn't be willing to listen to you or 007.

And CK knew the other killers were even less willing so...

But you'd always promise that once you get back home, you'll be the best mother to c00lkidd. And he took it as a good promise to make before saying his goodbyes and waiting for the next round.

You were committed to being the mother c00lkidd needed and the 'wife' that 007n7 and Noli deserved...

A bit disappointed with how this turned out but I tried my best-

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[odairloverr]

common misconceptions with loa, manifestation, and shifting 𐙚

coming from someone who has shifted 3x and has mastered manifestation

disclaimer: this is my perception of manifestation, shifting, and law of assumption. you do not have to agree with my views. whatever your belief is is valid, but this is what has worked for me time and time again and i simply wish to share. lmk what questions u have! i've been manifesting my entire life (knowingly for 6 years) but i've only been into shifting for a matter of months. thanks @hrrtshape <33 i owe her for my current mindset towards shifting ! also my first tumblr post omg.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

loa/manifestation:

- “ within manifestation, you have to try hard to receive your results “

you don’t even have to “try.” law of assumption is simply assuming what you want has already manifested. you have your desire already, so why would you be trying? if you want to manifest something, simply understand the fact that you already have your desire and it’s done. unless you BELIEVE you have to, there’s no need to affirm, listen to subs, visualize. no need to wait, anticipate or expect because you are in a reality where you have your desire. at the end of the day, what YOU believe is correct.

i listen to subliminals for fun (i believe they give me results, but i am not reliant on them to manifest) I visualize for fun, i affirm for fun. what REALLY brings my manifestations to me is knowing i already have it and letting go.

- “ my desires aren’t showing up in the 3d. i’m doing everything right, why am i not receiving them? “

i’ve heard this issue from quite a few people and all i can say is. read that again? view everything you speak as truth. i have been quite wary of any thought or word that i speak recently. by saying you don’t see any results, you are affirming you do not see any results.

example: “you want a new phone. it’s been a few days, and I’ve been expectantly waiting for signs, listening to subliminals, affirming for hours; but still no new phone. you feel demotivated. maybe manifestation isn’t real. you don’t see any results, so you might as well stop trying. it’s taking too long”

well… you kind of just affirmed that. you DIDDD manifest that if that is your view of manifestation. if you expect the new phone will take a long time, it will. it may seem difficult to some people to overcome the 3d, to ignore it and KNOW your manifestation is done. but if you practice this, simply being content in the fact you know you already have everything you want, you will slip into this practice habitually. don’t give into your doubts. your doubts have no power until you grant them authority.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

shifting:

- “ i’m going to try to shift tonight / i can’t wait to shift tonight. ”

i love the excitement for you honey but u are viewing shifting as a destination whether that’s intentional or not. remember your body is not physically traveling, you are shifting your awareness to a universe where you already exist. if you already exist there, then isn’t it already done? if you shift in the same way as me (assumption) try to embody the fact that you are already present there?

i will say though there’s no right or wrong way to shift. what works for you works for you. it comes down to what you believe in.

- “ what method should i do to shift? ”

you don’t have to do any! don’t feel pressured to attempt a method because it worked for others. try different ones around if you want, if that’s helpful for you! they can be fun, comforting, or routinized which might help others, but they are NOT obligatory in shifting. if you don't like the method for any reason, don't!

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

requested questions:

"how to really settle into the mindset of "3d is a reflection of the 4d" and "the 3d can lag" and how to grow more comfortable with that?"

work on your self-concept and reprogramming your mindset. this might sound complicated but I promise it isn't! with "3d is a reflection of the 4d," it tells us that thoughts, beliefs, emotions, assumptions, imagination, and self-concept will affect what we see in our physical world. so how would you adjust to that mindset? you change how you think. practice gratitude to the universe, positivity, and overall just believing in your own power. HYPE YOURSELF UP. u can literally do anything and you have no limits. FELL PROUD OF THAT. in my personal belief, I believe that whatever you think and say is true and vibrates throughout the universe, so being careful to always speak positively and practicing self love and gratitude are very important! i have a self concept subliminal playlist I listen as well if that helps.

now the 3d lag part.... im gonna be so honest idgaf ab that imo. ive always found myself scrolling past posts about that because.. the 3d isn't lagging? you already have ur desire, why would you be tell yourself you don't? that's js how i view it :)) again, if that is your belief, just practice working on how you think! everything you think and say is a manifestation (ect. my stomach hurts, I'm going to go eat) now, how to grow more comfortable with this mindset? practice! believe in yourself STRONGLY. nothing can stop you. there's no limits, no boundaries, no exaggerations. nothing is impossible and you have everything you could possibly want in your grasp. "what's ignoring the 3d and how to do it?" ignoring the 3d is not reacting to your physical reality when it contradicts your manifestation. i did go more into detail about why we do it above but here's how:

you know your manifestation is already yours. why worry about it any longer. let go of it as you are content that it is already factually yours. if you have a new phone, you aren't going to be constantly checking "did my new phone finally manifest? well you already have it! view all of your manifestations from the lens. it's already done and nothing can change that! again, working on self concept, self love, gratitude can help you to to fall into that mindset "how does your subconscious interpret each thought + how it works with manifestation and shifting" your subconscious does not argue. it does not analyze. it does not fight you. it's very willing and pliable. whatever you feed your subconscious it will accept! when you affirm or assume something, your subconscious does not filter that into "true or not true" it just accepts it! this is why working on self concept / reprogramming is not only important but extremely effective. your conscious mind / ego is the judging, critical part. and u don't listen to that ho. ur ego us like ur overprotective friend who's trying to stop u from being embarrassed. when u are manifesting, ur ego might tell u its not possible. it's okay to doubt yourself, you are human. BUT. are u going to give into those doubts? NO. never let those untrue doubts control YOU. basically. whatever u feed ur subconscious will be accepted as fact and then reflect into ur physical reality. that's it! "how do you use loa as a beginner in shifting? how do you assume? what keywords do you use when shifting?" it's quite simple! you assume by accepting whatever you want is true! you aren't hoping that your desire will manifest, but KNOWING it did. in shifting, this is simply knowing you are in your dr, that you are a master shifter, that shifting is fun and simple. affirmations and visualizations are good and completely valid, but letting go has been extremely helpful for me. knowing what you want is already yours and simply letting go. you don't obsessively check if it worked. it's done already! be happy and proud that you've achieved this!

when I shift, I affirm myself a bit for fun and go to sleep KNOWING I am already aware in my dr. thats literally it no visualization or robotic affs or some crazy sleeping position. just embodying the truth. "how do you know you've found the right subliminal?"

there is no right subliminal! as long as u are listening to a trusted sub maker (look in the comments for good reviews and making sure there's no bad affs layered in there) sub are effective! it depends on if you believe in these subs! i have never failed a manifestation in my life and a lot of those in the past were from sub makers, various different creators! I do have preferences for some submakers but at the end of the day it doesn't matter which u listen to! what you desire is already yours! if you feel off about listening to a sub, turn it off and maybe research the creator online. ok THANKS FOR READING love u guys! happy shifting and manifesting! remember how amazing, powerful, and valuable you are. ⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃🎐 ⋆ with love, liz.

[aosawako]

Don’t cry

Kei Tsukishimaજ⁀➴

➽────────────────────❥

Tsukishima was in the midst of comforting you. Despite you claiming you were fine, he could see right through you. Furrowed brows, breathing shallowly with slightly parted lips, glossed eyes. You weren’t fine.

He was very observant of you, of the behaviors you exhibited subconsciously. So, he was aware of the fact you would excuse yourself to cry in the restroom any minute now instead of crying to him.

Kei didn’t take it personally but it was his job as a boyfriend to take care of you wasn’t it?

He pried with precision, not wanting to make you feel even worse. It seemed like you were a word away from breaking. Proceed with caution.

“Is this about that girl you told me about? The one that was supposedly kind and you thought you could trust her with one of your secrets?”

Tsukishima thought he asked too directly the moment your lip quivered, a shaky sigh escaped you. Too busy trying to stop whatever tears might escape, you didn’t notice his hand slip around your waist. He scooted closer to you, looking at your bedroom wall.

“I just thought—It’s not like I’m mad, I’m just disappointed she would tell someone else.” You leaned back into his touch. Usually he would tease you about that, but not right now.

Kei wasn’t the soft type, but surprisingly he was with you. Though he still made fun of you and all, it wasn’t like how he would with other people.

“Don’t talk to her anymore, simple. Also you can tell me these things instead of people you met five minutes ago.”

Maybe you were accepting it, taking your boyfriend's advice to heart. It bummed you out, you were excited to make a new friend.

“Are you okay?” He tilted his head down to take a peek at your face. That was where he made his mistake, he forgot a rule.

Rule #1 When someone is about to cry, don't ask if they’re okay. They will cry, hard.

You fought it for a moment, before it just poured out. Tsukishima tried to fix the mistake, albeit the damage was already done.

He just sighed, slapping himself mentally. Kei pulled you into his lap patting your back. How could one comfort and scold at the same time?

Kei held you there, letting your tears cover his shirt. Listening to your incoherent slurred words as if he could understand. Once you quieted down he started to lecture you in the gentlest way he could.

Ruffled your hair, flicked your forehead, then kissed it because he felt bad. “Don’t share anything personal just because you think the persons nice idiot.”

Tsukishima didn’t care. He wasn't phased at all….

That's why once he realized you had fast fallen asleep, he took a long stare at you. His finger smoothed the skin between your eyebrows, bringing them back to normal. They looked too sad for his liking.

Your cheeks were tear stained too, he just swiped his thumb across your cheek. He didn’t like seeing you sad, but he loved your face.

[stephenleasheppard]

So I guess it's time for me to be a buzzkill and explain this one again

Pop culture is broadly aware of the idea that vampire myths exist. We, in real life, where vampires are not real and where we recognize vampires are not real, understand them to be folklore. However, it is fun to play with the idea that maybe they're not folklore. "Maybe, vampires exist!" And if vampires were to exist, then it would be plausible that the vampire folklore that exists in the real world does so because people in the past have had encounters with "real" vampires, and have passed that information along as best they can, and that information was not necessarily believed to be true, but was transmitted as folklore. Ergo, it makes sense that in a world where vampires are real, vampire folklore would exist. It is even plausible that in a world where vampires are real, vampire folklore could have lead to the explosion of popular vampire fiction following the publication of such novels as Dracula, Carmilla, and Varney the Vampire, leading up to the vampire-saturated pop-fictional environment we now inhabit. In other words, there's nothing particularly silly about your fictional "real" vampire inhabiting a world where Tom Cruise played Lestat in the 1994 Interview with the Vampire adaptation.

Same applies to werewolves. Werewolves are an interesting case because folkloric werewolves don't really resemble filmic werewolves, but pop culture isn't broadly aware of that. So, even though silver was not a traditional werewolf weakness prior to the release of 1941's The Wolf Man starring Lon Chaney Jr., enough of the public doesn't know that, and assumes that folkloric werewolves must be vulnerable to silver, that it's plausible for your werewolf story where werewolves are vulnerable to silver to exist in a fictionalized version of "real" Earth where wolfman's got nards.

Ghost? Demons? Same thing. The folklore exists, and for the purposes of fiction, that folklore dismisses the inherent silliness of telling a story about a monster in a fictionalized version of the "real" world where there are all sorts of movies and Saturday morning cartoons and breakfast cereals about that moster.

Then there's zombies. The pop culture zombie was invented by George Romero for 1968's Night of the Living Dead. It has no folkloric precedent. There were zombie stories before this, about innocent victims enslaved in a walking death by evil wizards, where the horror was the prospect of being enslaved rather than the slaves themselves (or, okay, in some of the pre-NotLD shlock zombie movies the horror was just racist "scary foreign magic bad"), but zombies as they appeared in Night of the Living Dead have no history. They popped out of that one guy's mind for that one horror flick. (The script doesn't even call them zombies; it calls them ghouls.)

So zombies don't get the folkloric escape from silliness that benefits vampires, werewolves, ghosts, demons, etc.. If you have a zombie movie, and call your zombies zombies in your zombie movie, and try to claim that movie is set in a fictionalized version of the "real" world, the question arises -- what, did George Romero predict the future or some shit? Why do his horror monsters with no folkloric precedent he invented in the sixties perfectly match the apocalypse consuming this setting?

It turns the story into a joke.

And this is in fact exactly what 1985's Return of the Living Dead did! In Return of the Living Dead, a sort of official sequel to Night of the Living Dead (it's complicated; the rights were split in half between George Romero and his Night of the Living Dead co-writer John Russo and Russo got the "Living Dead" part of it; that's why there's five Return of the Living Dead movies and all the Romero movies after the first one are just called "-of the Dead" with no "Living" in the title), the first movie exists and the events of the first movie really happened... sort of. In the Return bifurcation of the Night of the Living Dead continuity, the movie Night of the Living Dead was government propaganda to cover up a "real" outbreak of zombies that "really" happened; the events of the movie are a "fictionalized" portrayal of a "real" disaster, the idea being that if anyone claimed zombies were real, they'd be dismissed as kooks who believe a shlocky horror movie. The other major difference between the two splits in the continuity is that Romero ghouls eat flesh, while Russo zombies crave brains specifically and are vocal about it, which is very funny.

Ever since, there have been basically two strains of zombie media.

"Serious" zombie media, which, in order to maintain its seriousness, it has to take place in a fictionalized version of the real world without zombie media, in order to avoid raising the question of how Romero predicted zombies in a shlock horror movie in the 60s so exactly. In The Walking Dead, nobody calls zombies zombies because nobody has ever heard the word "zombie" because in the fictionalized version of the "real" world portrayed in The Walking Dead, Romero never made Night of the Living Dead. In serious zombie media, zombies eat flesh and nobody calls them zombies.

Comedy zombie media, which does not care about this, in which zombies are usually called zombies and usually eat brains.

The exception to this split is media that has zombies different enough from George Romero's zombies that the question of how he predicted the zombie apocalypse doesn't arise. Like, if you're doing a zombie apocalypse movie where the "zombies" are just living people infected with rapid-onset rabies, and shooting them in the head is in fact a terrible idea because inhaling aerosolized brain tissue causes infection, then having this fictionalized Earth also have movies by George Romero about slow-moving animated corpses who can be put down with headshots doesn't strain any disbelief.

(And then there's the book World War Z, which is formatted as a series of interviews of survivors of the zombie apocalypse years after it's been put down, which actually lampshades it by having one of the narrators speculate on how George Romero could have predicted it, but avoids having to answer the question by establishing that he vanished during the zombie apocalypse, presumably one of its billions of casualties, so no one will ever know the answer.)

All in all it's kind of like how you can assume that Godzilla movies take place in fictionalized versions of the real world where there aren't any Godzilla movies, or how Transformers movies take place in fictionalized versions of the real world where there aren't Transformers cartoons. It's not that difficult to grasp. The difference, of course, is that there's only one Godzilla, and part of the conceit of a Godzilla movie is that the people in the Godzilla movie will name Godzilla "Godzilla," which is plausible because after all they have to name him something and he is a titanic god-like lizard; likewise, it's pretty plausible that someone would watch Optimus Prime transform from a truck to a robot and say "Hey, it's some kind of transformer." If the conceit of your zombie movie is that it takes place in a world without zombie media, it's not super plausible that people would look at shambling cannibalistic corpses and decide to call them zombies, so they don't. (Romero didn't even call them that!) And that's why zombie movies don't call their zombies zombies.

can u imagine if other pieces of media were as scared of calling their monsters what they are as zombie media is about calling zombies zombies

[lohotine]

``The Want to be Wanted.``

Chance x Reader (Forsaken)

Cw: Mentions and usage of: Cigarettes, Alcohol. Not proof read.

The night had been long. It was filled with loud activities, risky bets, money, alcohol.

Things that were commonplace for a casino.

Chance had you by his side the entire night. You were his quote-unquote lucky charm. Though you're pretty sure he was only saying that because you were a nice piece of eye candy for him to flaunt around the casino.

What is a crown without its jewels, after all?

He'd have you seated on his lap while making irresponsible bets that he somehow never ended up being punished for, leaving kisses along your neck and rubbing their thumb over your hip.

It was honestly quite boring, but you couldn't deny that the attention was nice.

Feeling wanted was nice.

Of course, he'd make it up to you by buying you drinks and complimenting you the entire time. About how nice you looked that night, or how good you smelt.

Cheap, basic compliments like that; but compliments nonetheless.

Compliments that, despite your best efforts, replayed in your mind over and over.

But all good things have to come to an end eventually.

The two of you would call it a night, and Chance would bring you to his expensive car parked outside, and he'd hold the passenger door open for you, like the gentleman he was.

As Chance drove, you'd look out the window to see all the city lights filling up the streets. You'd see all of the people who have yet to retire for the night.

Chance was rambling on about a jackpot he won earlier that night. You already knew about it, of course. After all, you were with him the entire time. Yet you continued to listen despite this.

You always listened.

Nobody else really did.

And eventually, you'd reach the apartment complex he had booked for the night. It was a different one from last week, though no less expensive.

Chance could never really sit still, after all. They were constantly chasing after that thrill. Asking things like, what kind of complimentary wine will be served this time?

Or, will there be white bedsheets or black?

Small things like that. Things that made him seem like even more of a gambling addict than he already was.

He'd know the answer to these questions if he simply checked the website a little more thoroughly. But why would he do that when he could just leave it up to fate, right?

The lobby was empty. It was late, after all. Chance took this as a sign to wrap his arm around your waist and walk you towards the elevator. Not like he wouldn't have done the same thing anyway if there were people.

"So, fun night, right?" He muses, that signature grin brandishing his face as you approach some random suite. You say nothing. You just want to lie down.

"I'll take that as a no," he notes, sliding the apartment keycard along the sensor. The inside looks nice. Everything Chance owns is always like that.

Refined, minimalistic, expensive.

Chance starts to take off his coat, but you don't help him. You only wander off to the balcony. To the first moment of solitude you've been offered this entire day.

Solitude isn't really what you're after, though.

The entire city stirs beneath you. Cars speeding down the street, apartment lights serving as your substitute for stars.

It's something you have to get used to. How everything is constantly in motion.

How it can never seem to sit still.

And eventually, after staring at the view from the balcony and being lost in thought, Chance reunites with you once more.

And once again, your thoughts have circled back to him. The one person who probably could not care less about you.

Not really.

Not in the way you'd want.

He pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his suit. It's an exclusive, nameless brand that's probably worth more than your entire life's savings.

Another reminder of just how little your life is worth in comparison to his. For some reason, this night just seemed full of them.

Chance lights one cigarette and brings it up to his lips. You watch silently as he breathes it in, and eventually breathes it out.

It's sort of mesmerizing; how pretty he is.

"Take a picture. It'll last longer." He grins at his own joke, because of course he does. "But seriously. What's up with you? You've been acting off all night."

You say nothing. You're not even sure what you'd say, anyway.

The only sounds that remain are the sounds of cars driving by and the sound of Chance's breathing as he continues to smoke.

If he were feeling a little more generous that night, perhaps he would have allowed you to remain silent.

But he'd long since become bored of your little silent treatment. Even the most patient of people grow tired of waiting after all.

He leans over you, smoke swirling around the two of you like a veil. Chance smells of alcohol and expensive cologne. The apartment smells like antiseptic.

An unfamiliar mixture of scents.

A mixture that just so happens to set off all of your nerves in a way that makes you feel like something is wrong.

You can't see their expression under the sunglasses, but even if you could, you doubt you'd be able to decipher it.

Is there something wrong?

"Come on now, use your words. Tell me what's on your mind," Chance says, his thumb brushing along your bottom lip.

He looks at you with that small, charming smile. The one he's constantly wearing. Though this one, you admit, is slightly softer.

It manages to make you fold. Instantly.

"Why do you even keep me around? You... have no need for me..." you mumble.

The atmosphere gets more suffocating with those words, and Chance's movements seem to still, if only for a moment.

Then he sighs. He removes the cigarette from his lips and flicks it out over a nearby ashtray.

"Of course I don't need you."

His hold on your chin tightens. An act of desperation, perhaps?

"But I want you," he exhales, the words sounding breathless on his lips.

"I want you so badly."

"And more than that... I want you... to want me too."

Chance never thought he'd admit those words.

After all, Chance had everything he could ever need.

He had money. Connections. Luxuries.

And yet,

you remained all he could ever want.

That's why he did all that he did, after all.

He bought you anything you even vaguely looked at. He kept you near him always. He'd hold open doors for you, pull out chairs for you.

All so that, maybe, you'd want him, like he wanted you.

He wanted you to want him.

He really,

truly,

did.

And so, when Chance felt your hand slowly trailing upwards, before resting on his shoulder, he could not help but lean into you more.

You were careful, and perhaps even a bit reluctant in your actions, yet not unwilling.

Never unwilling.

"I want you."

Those were the words Chance heard from you.

A quiet exclamation. Almost a whisper, that threatened to be whisked away by the night breeze.

But he heard it anyway.

Of course he did.

And then he'd shift, once more, closer to you. Closer to your lips

And you'd do the same, until you two met.

A careful interaction, being tread lightly by both of you.

This kiss was different from the others.

Not as demanding. Not as bold.

Just there. Simply being. As it is.

"I think I love you," he'd murmur, never quite breaking the kiss and simply mumbling the words into your mouth.

"You're not sure?"

He'd pull back at that, shaking his head slightly.

"No. I am sure... I love you."

And before you could say anything else, his lips were back on yours. His tongue swiped your bottom lip, before shoving its way into your mouth.

He still tasted like the smoke from his cigarette. It was bitter. But it tasted like him.

It tasted right.

"I love you, too," you'd say in-between kisses.

The words left you effortlessly.

You've been meaning to say them for a long time, after all.

Been meaning to kiss him like this.

Like you meant it.

And you did mean it.

As did he.

And you wanted it.

As did he.

[alacants]

The "a thread of order" blog recently referenced something Carlos said after the 2024 RG final: “In the fifth set of the final is the time to give it all, fight until you can’t fight anymore. That’s what makes you a warrior, and I consider myself a warrior.” That quote, together with his constant references to the movie "300", his on-court histrionics and the supernatural big-final-moment level of tennis he can produce, made me spiral into an idiotic sincaraz fan-theory (OBVIOUSLY inaccurate and fictional.) So here it is:

I personally suspect that Carlos perceives matches (especially important ones) as if they were movies/plays and he's the one playing the hero & warrior archetype. It's partly why he needs the crowds: they're all part of the scene, and also big reactions feel more epic. And it's also why he can sometimes reach an unbelievable level at the acme of big matches, something that would require inhuman amounts of confidence and self-belief: that's because in that moment he's not just Carlos the excellent tennis player-normal guy, he's not just himself (that would cause some amount of insecurity) but he's actually embodying The Heroic Warrior archetype! And he knows that there's a divine narrative script in place for heroes in stories (matches) which will make him prevail at the end. It's basically a narrative archetype/role he tries to live up to and embody in matches, because he needs to see the matches and himself as "something more" in order to then get more from himself on court. And when the opponent is weak or the match isn't exciting the illusion of being the Hero-Warrior is obviously harder to maintain obviously.

On the other side we have Jannik, who tries to block out the crowd and be composed, and only communicates with his team and his opponent. Where Carlos tries to see the whole stadium as part one big scene that's enacting something more than a tennis match, Jannik tries to shrink his world to the strict permiter of the singles court plus his own box. For him it's a competitive pro game, it's his career and his public role, it's exciting and fun and terrible but it's not a big metaphor or an archetypal flight of fancy. He's competing against his opponent and trying to play the best tennis possible. He's "just" himself on court, the player-version of himself.

[I wonder if this maybe would have something to do with Jannik not focusing on tennis until he was 13 (and having a more gradual and setback-prone rise) while Carlos has been immersed in tennis from birth basically (and has obviously had a more sudden and easier rise in the scene.) I don't think that can be the reason though, it's too superficial.]

op this essay is awesome. i was just answering an unrelated ask and coming to the same conclusion that carlos thrives on the narrative import of big moments. he is Aware of them in a way that not every athlete can let themselves be aware, he is Aware of what it means to rise to the occasion. classic advice is "pretend it's just another match" but carlos demonstrably performs better in Big Moments than in just another match.

also think this contributed to the post-olympics crashout. not just defeat, not just a match he could have won, but failure at the ultimate climax of the ultimate stage of the biggest theater in sport, the global superevent literally created to propagate the idea that Sports Is More Than Sports. all that, and here's where he finds out that sometimes sheer protagonism just isn't enough. narrative of choice trumped by other, bigger narrative. i'm sure that was wildly destabilizing to experience for the first time, lol, good (????) thing he's got the protagonism back on track now.

this all just boils down, again, to the question of ego and self-made mythos and can you achieve greatness without storytelling. (© user radelulu.) it is sooooooooo fun to see absolute black-and-white photonegative-inverses in a direct clash for our entertainment. tho bc the clash is taking place in the theater of sports the table is rigged and the house, aka storytelling, always wins—the only way to beat it is to remove yourself from the table.

[nostalgebraist]

When you finish writing a big story and you became very close the characters, was there a time after where you were like "i kind of want to revisit these characters again, but i should probably just let the story be, they deserve to rest" Im not talking about wanting to write a sequel, is more about still coming up with fun ideas for them, maybe a little scene or something, but choosing not to do anything with it because it'd feel disrespectful to the ending you gave them?

This doesn't happen to me, no.

The reason is that, once I finish the story, my sense of "being close to the characters" suddenly vanishes. And, although there are rare moments where it (briefly) returns, it mostly stays gone.

I can't remember if I've ever talked about this in detail before, but – when I'm in the process of writing a story, especially near the end, the characters feel "real" to me in a very strong and kind of uncanny way.

I don't actually believe that they exist as independent entities from me (much less sentient ones), but it does almost feel like that's true, when I'm in the thick of the writing process.

I have no trouble intellectually distinguishing fiction from reality, even in the state I'm describing. But my emotional and intuitive relationship with my characters, when I'm in that state, is pretty similar to the one I have with real people I know in real life. And there are a bunch of... uh, mental phenomena?... associated with this that I'm slightly afraid to describe because I worry they'll sound like hallucinations or delusions if I don't add a lot of caveats.

For example, when I'm alone in a room writing (especially if I'm writing in the middle of the night), I sometimes feel like it's not just me in the room, that the character I'm writing about is "there with me," in much the same way I'd be aware of someone real person's presence if I knew they were in the room but didn't happen to be looking in their direction. Or: sometimes I feel like the characters' voices are "flowing through me," that I'm merely taking dictation from them – and will sometimes even think to myself: "man, I'm so grateful that the character is helping me write this part, because if I tried to do it all by myself there's no way I would get it right." And it takes a moment before I realize, wait, no, I am writing it by myself – at least in a literal and physical sense.

Basically if you read this post, and then sort of read between the lines of it under the assumption that I'm downplaying how weird the experience actually is because I'm worried an accurate account would make me sound kind of unhinged... then you will have roughly the right impression of what the writing experience is like for me.

Whatever is going on here, it feels like it's probably on some kind of spectrum that also contains stuff like tulpas, multiple systems, and maybe also the way that children can sometimes get really deeply wrapped up in their imaginary play. I don't know how common this stuff is among writers (maybe it is common but rarely talked about?). It's not something I've experienced anywhere else in life; I don't experience it with other people's fictional characters or stories, or with fantasies I have that aren't associated with a work in progress, and I don't remember ever experiencing it before I started writing fiction as an adult.

Anyway, as I said at the top, the moment I finish writing a story, this phenomenon simply turns off, suddenly and completely. The transition is very noticeable when it happens, and makes me feel something akin to grief or loneliness over the brief span between the moment it starts and the moment it is fully completed – like I've just lost a bunch of close friends at once.

With Almost Nowhere, I remember a very specific feeling – on the evening of the day when I finished writing – that the characters were "departing 'into' the finished book," reverting to a lesser existence as "mere words" rather than "real people," as though they had been plastic toys animated by Terra Ignota's Bridger, and were now turning back into toys again. It made me sad, for a little while, but once they'd fully "lost their reality" I no longer cared, because it was that same sense of reality that made me care, and now it was gone.

So, to finish answering your question: I don't feel an urge to return to my old characters, because it feels intuitively obvious that doing this is impossible. That anything else I wrote about them would be inauthentic, somehow, in a way that the original work wasn't. They were "there," before, but they're "gone," now. This difference is very stark, and very hard to ignore.

(As I noted above, they do sometimes "come back" to me – very rarely, and very briefly, but that is enough for a proof of concept. Perhaps, if I were to try, I could find some way to "bring them back" for longer intervals. But I doubt I will ever try that. I feel a bit afraid of the concept for several reasons – for one thing, the "inauthenticity" I just mentioned squicks me out and I'd prefer not to come too close to it, and I also have a baseline wariness of doing stuff that seems too much like messing around with my own mental health. There's also a "catch-22" involved here, where I don't feel motivated about the characters the way I used to, and that means I'm not even motivated to do things that would generate that motivation. The "target" of the effort won't appeal strongly to me until I've already gone to the trouble of obtaining it, which means the effort doesn't feel justified in the first place.)

[0gl1tch0]

-AWAY! Fuck you. We’re done! And honestly this is a long time coming. Things have been shit, you have been shit, for so long. Looking back I don’t know why I put up with it. Momentum? But this, this is on another level. You got my family involved. Don’t fucking talk to my family! We’re done. Fuck you. This is goodb-

I only know one spell.

Forget. Forget. Forget.

I can use it on one person, and have them forget forget forget one thing, at one time. Use it on someone else and they remember, immediately.

It’s not the most useful spell. It can’t cover up anything with two witnesses. It can’t hide any memory indefinitely.

And I can’t use it on myself.

I would.

It’s hard to pick the one thing I’d use it for.

YOU wouldn’t believe it. I just got pulled over and I’m like super high. And I’m sooo nervous. Like this pig is definitely knows. But he goes back to his car to run my plates and he must have gotten a car or something, cause he just flipped on his lights and drove AW-

Susan is at the library on a Tuesday. She’s supposed to be at work, but she forgot. So she went to the library like she usually does on her days off. It helps her study. She’s earning an online degree in public health. She’s a good person trying to help. Plus, she doesn’t want to be a security guard forever.

But she does want to be a security guard for now. And the second I make someone else forget forget forget something, she’ll remember. She’ll be running back to work confused with no excuse. I suppose if I did it to her enough then the government would fire her. But I need her to keep her job, at least for now.

So I change what I’m forcing her to forget forget forget. She grabs her purse and starts sprinting out the door to her car. She doesn’t remember to log out of library computer though. I don’t let her.

-N we talk? If you’re busy it’s okay but this is important. Last night I was hanging out with one of the guys from work. I thought he was sweet, and we were having fun, I dunno. I was just so drunk. It started to rain and I was cold and I wanted to go inside but I just passed out on the ground. And he was laughing. He just left me there. My memory gets hazy after that. YOU-

It’s a funny thing, memories. Every time you think about them, they change. They aren’t records you play and put back on the shelf. They’re stories you tell yourself, over and over, memorizing the newest telling each time. Your biggest regrets? Those terrible things seared into your brain? You aren’t reliving a particularly bad moment. No, you spend the rest of your life telling yourself the same sad story, over and over, combing through the details looking for any little thing you could have changed. But it doesn’t matter. The ending is always the same.

Even if your mind slowly massages your recollection, reality brings back the pain you can’t forget forget forget.

Take Susan, for instance. She shot and killed someone. And she’s been retelling herself those every day since. I can see it, in the version history of the report of the incident on her computer. Certain truths become fuzzier. Certain falsehoods more distinct. Her memories of the biggest regrets of her life smoothing like wood, as she tries to sand away a chaotic hectic and jagged piece of her foundation into something she doesn’t hurt herself to touch. But the guy is still dead. The smooth shaft of wood still ends in the point of a spear. And she’s stabbing herself on it. Trying to forget forget forget.

Her boss says she’s a hero. The mayor is going to meet with her. Only she’s not going to remember the meeting.

I only have a few minutes before she runs back into the library and signs out of the computer. I won’t need half that to clean up after myself. I’m not the kind of person whose presence leaves evidence. Not anymore.

-ught about it. For a long time. And I. I dunno. I like you a lot. It’s just. I mean how would that even work? Maybe we should just be friends. CAN-

Getting into the restaurant will not be easy. I can’t sit down at a table without a reservation. Even if I cast a spell on the hostess, that won’t change whether or not the tables are full. And if I get a table, I have to order something. This isn’t a place regular folks can afford, and I can’t even scrap together regular people money. Maybe it slips the waiters mind and he doesn’t bill me, but I’m leaving here with my spell on the Mayor. I just need to get close to him for a moment.

One moment. That’s all any of us ever need. That’s all any of us ever get. We are all just a collection of what we did in a small list of moments.

-HIS is a really bad time. I’m sorry, my dog just died. I really can’t think about anything else right now. I don’t have the THOU-

Human beings, ultimately, are just a pile of chemicals. Big meaty lumps controlled by electrical signals powered by a series of gasses and fluids, flowing at a steady rate each and every second. We are a teetering balancing act of chemical input and chemical output, existing as a filter in a river of time while reality sifts through us.

It’s not the balance that makes us. It’s the imbalances. It’s the different needs and cravings at different levels. What does it mean when the introduction of someone’s scent increases our endorphin levels? How do we shape our lives if the thing we’re missing comes in a pill that the government can take away? What does it say about us if the thing we’re missing doesn’t come in any pill at all? What would you do to try and find balance? How good does something have to feel to be good enough?

We are all just piles of chemicals trying to bond.

And I’m standing in the bathroom because I let one chemical spill out.

I cut myself on my arm, walked into the front room, and asked if I could clean myself up. Of course security would let me through. I didn’t even need to use a spell to be left alone in here, although I’d planned to. Most people are inherently good, most of the time. And I erase a little bit of people to get what I want. What does that make me?

AND he’s dead. Oh my god he’s dead. I just found his obituary. It says he killed himself, Jesus Christ killed himself months ago. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me, the best part of me. I think we were like… platonic soulmates. And he’s been gone. Just gone. For months! I can’t believe it. Please say something. I can’t take TH-

I’m not going to kill the mayor.

I could, maybe, I think. For a few minutes have him forget forget forget to breathe.

But I don’t want anyone to die. I just want there to be a little less hate. I want Susan not to have hated anyone who scared her while she was working alone. I want Susan not to hate herself for what she was expected to do while afraid. I want Susan not to hate herself for what she does now, just to get one evening where she feels good.

I want the first world to function less punitively. I want the world to understand decisions were little bursts of energy through couple soupy wrinkles of meat, and sometimes that energy misfires. Sometimes that meat is wrong.

But we don’t do that. We see something wrong and we hate it. We hate it like that will make it right. If the force of our disdain and the extremity of our punishment are extreme enough we can beat the things we hate into submission. We treat the human psyche like its only remedy is ballistic repair. Hit it to make it start working. If the signal is still fuzzy hit it again.

We hit each other and ourselves so hard and so often that the only remaining ways to cope are the exact things we hated in the first place. We hate the poor so we take their homes away. We hate the fat so we force them to stay inside where we cannot see them. We call addicts criminals and brand them for life, barring them from any alternatives that might feel good.

And the mayor? He needs people to vote for him. So he has to be the paragon of our hate. He has to embody it, to take that nebulous hate and through his pen channel it into legislation. In front of dozens of cameras he’s going to sign a bill that condemns those of us hurting the most to even worse cells at even worse prisons for even longer sentences. And he’ll do it with a smile, in front of dozens of cameras, shaking the thankful public’s hand.

But it won’t do anything. You can’t unring a bell. You can’t untake a pill or unpull a trigger. Susan won’t bring that boy back when she rethinks the story, when she takes pain killers, when she gets fired for having them or when she spends time in a cell. He will always be dead.

So I won’t let the Mayor do this. For three days the bill will sit in a shelf in his desk that I command him to forget forget forget.

That’s the best I can do. I just stop things from getting worse. I don’t know how to make things better. That’s not my part of the phrase.

No I think we could move in together. What’s the worst that happens, I have a shitty year there? I’m going to have a shitty year here. Besides, you’re my best friend. If we get into a fight I’m sure we can’t forgive and-

You only know one spell, and it isn’t even a high-level spell. But between its versatility and your creativity, you’ve still made a name for yourself.

[ollyissleepy]

𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 (𝐩)

pairings: batfamily x nonbinary!reader summary: they might not fully get it, but will love you regardless.

m.list

b. wayne does he get it? no. will he show that he doesn't get it? no. would ask a few questions (like preferred name/pronouns), but nothing more than that. though, if your timing is right, you could catch him researching about it on batcomputer. 100% funds more charities for lgbtg+ folks (esp. trans and nonbinary youth) after your coming out. also if you ask him he would go to pride parades with you (might even get him to wear a silly shirt or something)

d. grayson unlike bruce, he will ask you all the questions out of genuine curiosity. also does his best at educating people around him. will it be embarrassing? sometimes. but I promise he means no harm. also there's no need to ask him to go to a pride parade, he probably would know about them before you and you bet he's wearing rainbow head to toe.

j. todd would ask you to explain, but unlike dick, a few question are enough. I feel like he's more of a quiet supporter. he'd be like 'oh you're nonbinary cool' just to walk away (later the same day you might find a small item like a pin with nonbinary flag). probably won't go to a pride parade (he's dead after all, so more like can't go), but would watch you from the rooftops to make sure you're safe. might 'inconvenience' a few homophobes/transphobes that are trying to destroy your fun (esp. if they're transphobic towards you).

t. drake already know some stuff about the term 'nonbinary' so, similar to bruce, would only ask about your preferred name/pronouns. mean comments on social media? huh where? oh sorry tim deleted them before you could even read them properly? oh and the person that wrote them? yeah, doxxed, reported, their entire family/all their friends knows about their browse search history. would go with you to a pride parade and might even wear something small related to his own flag

bonus! d. wayne does he get everything you just said to him? not really. would he ask you about it? no, but unlike his father, he would go to someone else to ask about it (would not tell them it's about you, just causally ask about it and not elaborate further). has stabbed at least one person for being transphobic to you. probably wouldn't go to a pride parade (not his vibe I fear), but if you mention going with any other family member instead, he would do anything to get that idea out of your head, 'why are you planning on asking timothy? i'm going with you and it's final'.

[concretejunglefm]

A little hurt/comfort with bestfriend!noah just because 💕

CW: sensitive topics around past relationships and sexual coercion, hint of trauma and light details, shitty ex's and circumstances, noah being your safe space. read at your own discretion and take care of yourself.

Sometimes the memory resurfaces, and being alone is what you hate most. Even more than that, you hate that you never told anyone. You tucked it away like a little secret—something you’re ashamed of, and in a way, you are, even if you feel like you have no right to be.

“Jesse mentioned you let yourself in,” you hear Noah as he enters his room, eyes already finding you curled up against his pillow, tucked into his green hoodie—your favourite of his. You always seek it out in times of comfort or need, and now is one of those times.

“Yeah, sorry…” you mumble, wiping at your eyes. They still sting from when you were crying earlier. You’d managed to calm yourself down before Noah came home, but the moment after you’d arrived and wrapped yourself in the cocoon of his bed, you fell apart—flooded with too many memories, too many thoughts, and the heavy realization of something you’d tried so hard to block out.

“Hey, you been crying?” His voice is gentle, cautious, as he closes the space between you and sinks down onto the bed beside you. His large hand reaches out to soothe you, brushing gently along your arm, your back—anywhere he can touch, but all it does is make your breath catch in your throat as you fight off the reemerging tears.

The moment they fall, Noah doesn’t move to pull you into his arms. Instead, he gently draws you from beneath the covers, lays your head in his lap, and pulls the hood of his hoodie—the one you’re wearing—down just enough to let his hand rest lightly atop your head.

“It’s okay. I’m here. What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice quiet and soothing. He’s not pressing, just offering space and comfort, and it sounds like he truly cares. Your body shakes with the weight of emotion, the effort to hold back the sobs failing as they start up again.

He shushes you softly, fingers threading through your hair and gently massaging your scalp. You don’t need to see his face to know how deeply concerned he is—you can imagine his brows furrowed with worry, nothing but care written across his features, and you know he probably has a good idea of who brought this on.

Sadly, he’d be right.

When you recount the story, the reason for your current state, your voice is quiet at first, barely above a whisper.

“I thought something happened that night,” Noah confesses.

You had been drunk, having fun out with your friends, and with someone new—the same someone your ex had convinced you to leave with. The three of you, together.

You’d agreed to it at the club, thinking it would be just another experience to cross off your checklist, the way every young person does, and Noah had trusted you to go, because you were with your ex—someone who was supposed to take care of you.

You hear the grind of his teeth when he realizes that had been far from the truth, like he’s biting back a snide remark about your ex, but he reins it in. He’s doing better at listening now, keeping his mouth shut, because he wants to let you speak. He’s giving you the space you need to share whatever you’re ready to say.

You recount what you remember, how you started to second guess things on the way there, how when you arrived, you changed your mind. Only your ex changed it right back.

You wanted it. You keep repeating that now, like somehow, if you say it enough, you’ll convince yourself you’re overreacting.

Your voice sounds empty as you describe the act—the way you let a stranger fuck you on a mattress on their living room floor, even though you hated it, but your body had let it happen, so you tell yourself maybe you didn’t hate it that much, right?

You bury your face in the fabric of his hoodie when emotion chokes you, your voice muffled and thick as you quietly mumble,

“I never liked anything they said they were into. I just wanted them to like me.”

The truth is, you were years deep into a relationship with someone who never really seemed interested in you. You were younger, more naive, convinced that if you liked what they did, they might finally care, but you never needed to do that.

You never had to break off pieces of yourself to mold into their idealized version of someone—a fucked up one at that.

“I just wanted to go home…”

That’s the part that breaks Noah’s heart the most, because you were supposed to be with someone who made you feel safe. Instead, you were left with someone who made you feel the exact opposite.

It’s not regret. Regret doesn’t leave bile sitting in your throat every time you dare to think about what happened, and it’s not regret when you never wanted it in the first place. You’d said yes—until you were sober enough to want to back out, but by then, it was too late, and it wasn’t anything else, because it hadn’t been forceful.

That’s what your ex told you, and you believed them. You let their version of events sink its claws into you. The version where you hadn’t been crying in the bathroom, begging to go home. Where they hadn’t been kissing you to calm you down, to smooth things over, to manipulate you.

“It’s coercion.” Noah’s soft voice breaks the silence of the room—and the storm in your mind. Just like that, the noise dulls. It all falls quiet the moment he speaks.

You turn your head slightly, the smallest motion of acknowledgment, a silent ask for him to explain.

“What you described… it’s coercion.” His fingers stroke through your hair, gently massaging your scalp in that same soothing way as before.

“You did nothing wrong.” His reassurance feels like the weight you’ve been carrying is finally starting to lift—even if just a little.

“They did.” There’s a distinct bite in his tone, something bordering on open disgust. You already knew how deeply he disliked your ex, but now, now it feels more justified than ever.

You let out a shaky breath. Noah shifts beside you, moving until he’s lying next to you. He rolls you into his arms, pulling you close against his chest. His arms wrap tightly around you as he buries his face in your hair, breathing you in.

“I wish you had told me… but I understand why you didn’t.”

You close your eyes as warm tears slip silently down your cheeks.

“No one’s ever gonna hurt you like that again,” he murmurs. “I promise.”

His arms tighten around you, and you exhale—slow, steady. For the first time in a long while, you feel safe, you feel loved, you feel protected.

With him, you feel like you’re home.

[ceyanabbiolo]

PHOTOGRAPH // M.S [14]

Summary: Daphne Denoire, a 21-year-old, returns to Boston after 3 years—but working for her brother’s best friend, Matthew Sturniolo, wasn’t part of the plan. He’s a 26-year-old multimillionaire. She’s the girl he was never supposed to feel this way about. With secrets between them and boundaries set, how far will they go for a love they never saw coming?

Warnings: making out, slight fighting

wc: 4100

Chapter 14: Chill, Man. I’m…Taking a Shit

December had passed in a blur—busy, hectic, but surprisingly fun. Matt had been constantly tied up with shoots, which meant I was usually busy too. Our schedules were chaotic, but somehow it worked.

Right now, though, I wasn’t holding a camera or helping Matt pick wardrobe. I was sitting across from a woman in her mid-forties with kind eyes and silver and brown-streaked hair—Dr Martinez, my new therapist.

After weeks of Matt gently urging (and by gently, I mean consistently bringing it up every other day), I finally caved and let him schedule a few sessions. I didn’t think I’d actually go through with it, but here I was—an hour in and still talking.

“I feel like I’ve gotten to know you pretty well in just one session, Daphne,” Dr. Martinez said with a warm smile, glancing at the clock as we neared the end. 

I gave a soft shrug. “I had a lot to say.”  

She nodded thoughtfully. “You’ve mentioned a lot today…your past, your parents, the trauma, your fears. But I noticed something interesting.”

My brows lifted slightly. “What?”

“Any time you talked about Matt, your tone changed. There was this… calmness. A softness.”

I felt my face warm and looked down at my hands.

“He seems important to you,” she continued gently. “Do you feel safe with him?”

I nodded slowly. “Yeah. I do.”

She leaned back in her chair. “That’s good. Safety is the foundation for healing. And having someone you trust—that can make a world of difference.”

I looked out the window for a second, thinking.

“He helped me a lot,” I said softly, eyes still on the folded tissue in my lap. “He’s the one who suggested I come here.”

Dr. Martinez offered a knowing smile, her tone gentle but steady. “I know. He actually reached out personally and asked if I’d consider taking you on.”

My eyes lifted slightly in surprise, even though I already knew that information. 

“He was a client of mine years ago,” she continued. “Much younger than. Different kind of weight on his shoulders, but I remember how guarded he was in the beginning. Very few people let me in the way he eventually did.”

That stirred something in my chest—some kind of quiet understanding. Matt had always seemed like someone who carried things quietly. To be honest, when he told me he used to have anxiety, I was shocked; I didn’t even know. 

“He wanted to make sure you’d be with someone he trusted,” she added.

My throat tightened a little, but I nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

“I can see why he trusted you,” I murmured.

Dr. Martinez smiled again and checked the clock. “We’re just about out of time for today, but I’d like to see you again next week, same time if that works.”

I stood slowly, grabbing my coat. “Yeah. That works.”

As I reached the door, her voice followed me, warm, reassuring. “You’re doing well, Daphne. Coming here, opening up… It’s not easy. But it’s brave. I’ll see you soon.”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

I stepped outside into the cold December air, zipping up my jacket and tucking my hands into my sleeves. The city felt louder after the stillness of Dr. Martinez’s office. 

I reached the sidewalk and paused.

Matt’s car was parked right across the street, just like he said it would be. He was leaning against the hood, arms crossed, wearing his usual hoodie and dark coat. His eyes found mine instantly, and even from a distance, I could see the question in them—You okay?

I crossed the street slowly, feeling the wind brush against my cheeks. He straightened up as I approached, opening the passenger door for me.

“How’d it go?” he asked, voice quiet, careful as he pecked my lips. 

I hesitated, then nodded. “It was… good.”

He gave a small smile, not pushing further. “Good”

I smiled faintly and slid into the seat. Once he got in and started the car, the warmth from the vents hit instantly, and I relaxed into it. We drove in silence for a few blocks, the city slowly moving past our windows. But it wasn’t uncomfortable.

​​I glanced over at Matt as we waited at a red light, the soft hum of the heater filling the silence. His hand was still in mine, thumb gently brushing over my knuckles like it was second nature now.

“What are your Christmas plans?” I asked softly.

It was Christmad Eve today, and the holidays were fully in swing.

He exhaled through his nose, his eyes still fixed on the road ahead. “I’m required to be at Chris’s house this year.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Required?”

He gave a dry chuckle. “Yeah. Apparently, his arranged fiancée’s family wants us all to celebrate together.”

I tilted my head. “That’s kind of cute though…”

Matt glanced at me with a skeptical look. “Cute?”

I smiled. “Yeah. I mean… it sounds like they’re trying. That’s sweet, right?”

He shrugged, one hand lifting off the wheel to rub the back of his neck. “I think they’re warming up to each other. Caught him being all soft with her the other morning—called her ‘Ma’.”

I blinked. “He called her Ma?”

Matt nodded with a small smirk. “Yeah. Like it just slipped out. He tried to brush it off like it was nothing.”

I raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at my lips. “That doesn’t sound like him.”

“I know,” Matt said, chuckling. “That’s why it was so weird. He caught me watching and was like, ‘what?’ all defensive. I didn’t even say anything. Man was flustered.” 

I laughed, picturing Chris—cold, serious Chris—accidentally letting a soft moment slip. “Sounds like he’s catching feelings.”

Matt gave a thoughtful nod. “Maybe. Or maybe he’s just trying to convince himself it’s real. Either way, I’ve never seen him look at anyone like that.”

I smiled at the thought of Chris being soft with someone, but the warmth faded quickly as my mind started to spiral again. Before I could dwell too long, I spoke up.

“Anyway… Noah’s back tonight.”

Matt nodded without looking over. “Yeah, I know. He texted me earlier.”

I turned my head toward him, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “You should stay until he gets home. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”

He glanced at me briefly, his tone gentle. “I can... if you want me to.”

“I do,” I said softly.

There was a beat of silence before he added, casually—too casually, like he was trying not to make a big deal out of it, “I feel like we should tell him tonight.”

I blinked. “Tell him what?”

“That we’re together,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

My stomach flipped. “No!” I nearly shrieked, whipping my head toward him.

Matt jerked slightly, one hand still steady on the wheel as his brows shot up in alarm. “Whoa,” he said, stealing a glance at me. “I was just suggesting.”

I groaned, pressing a hand to my forehead. “Sorry—it’s just… now is not the time.”

Matt’s lips pressed together, a bit of irritation flickering behind his eyes. “Okay, but when is the time?” he asked as we pulled up to a red light. “Because from where I’m sitting, there’s never going to be a good one. He’s your brother. He’s always gonna freak out.”

I didn’t answer right away. My hands fidgeted in my lap as I stared out the windshield. The light hadn’t changed, but my thoughts were racing.

“I don’t know…” I said finally, my voice small.

Matt exhaled hard through his nose, leaning his elbow against the window and dragging a hand down his jaw. “Sweetheart,” he said, voice lower now, more serious, “you know I’m not trying to cause problems. But hiding us like this... it doesn’t feel right. It feels worse.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, heart picking up. “Matt, you know Noah. You know how he sees you…”

His head turned slightly. His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

I instantly regretted saying anything. “I… it’s nothing. Forget I said that.”

“No.” His voice was firmer now. “Don’t do that. What did you mean? What does he think of me?”

I hesitated, fiddling with the sleeve of my coat. “Matt…”

“Tell me, Daphne,” he said again, this time quieter but more tense. “What does he think of me?”

My shoulders slumped a bit. I didn’t want to lie, but I didn’t want to hurt him either. “He’s your best friend, Matt. He knows you really well… how you were with girls before. He’s just... protective of me.”

Matt turned fully now, eyes narrowing slightly. “So what—you think he believes i’d be messing around? He’s messed around just as much as me ”

I didn’t answer right away.

The silence was enough.

Matt shook his head, laughing once under his breath without humor. “Unbelievable.”

“He’s not entirely wrong to worry,” I said carefully. “You had… a reputation. Before me.”

“And I’ve done everything to show you I’m not that guy anymore,” Matt said, clearly frustrated now. “Do you think I’m messing around?”

“No!” I said quickly, meeting his eyes. “No, Matt. I trust you. But Noah—he’s not just going to take our word for it. He’s going to assume things, and I’m scared he’s going to push you away, or me away. Or both.”

Matt’s jaw clenched, his hands tightening on the wheel. “I’ve never lied to him. I’ve never hurt you.”

“I know,” I whispered. “I know that. But it’s not about what you’ve done—it’s about how scared Noah is that someone else will break me again.”

Matt stayed quiet, the weight of my words settling over him like wet concrete. After a long pause, he spoke again, this time softer.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “I’m not perfect, but I wouldn’t add to your pain.”

My chest ached hearing him say it. I reached out, touching his arm gently. “I know, Matt… I just need a little more time.”

He nodded slowly, eyes on the road again. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll wait. But I want this—us—to be real out loud. Not just in secret.”

I gave his arm a light squeeze, then leaned my head against the window. My heart was heavy with guilt and gratitude all at once.

I really did not mean to offend him.

“Welcome home!” I grinned, pulling Noah into a hug the second he stepped through the door.

“Hey, Daph,” he said, wrapping one arm around me in return, his voice tired but warm.

He dropped his suitcase by the front entrance with a soft thud, stretching his neck out before heading toward the living room.

That’s when he saw Matt.

“No way—my brother,” Noah said with a grin as he approached him.

Matt stood, mirroring the smile. “What’s good, man?”

They clasped hands and pulled each other into that typical half-hug—firm back slap included. It was the kind of greeting you only see between guys who’ve known each other since years of friendship compacted into one smooth motion. You could tell there was real love in it. 

“Been a minute,” Matt said, giving him a nod.

“Too long,” Noah replied, still grinning. “You’ve been holding down Boston without me?”

Matt smirked. “Barely. It’s quieter without your mouth around.”

They both laughed, easing into the familiar rhythm like no time had passed. I watched from the side, my stomach Noah leaned back on the couch, still chewing on a fry, his gaze flicking around the room like he was genuinely impressed.

“By the way, Daph,” he said, wiping his hands on a napkin. “I like what you did with the place.”

I grinned, gesturing proudly to the twinkling garlands and the tree lit up in the corner. “All thanks to me and Pinterest.”

He let out a low chuckle. “Looks cozy. Real festive.”

A moment passed as he reached for his drink, then glanced over at Matt.

“You’re still heading to Chris’s tomorrow, right?”

Matt nodded casually. “Yup. Required family bonding and all that.”

I let out a involuntary snort, and Noah raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press further. Instead, he looked between the two of us a little too long.

I saw Matt give me a small smile. 

“So… how’ve you guys been?” he asked, tone light, but the way he said it made my spine straighten. It wasn’t accusatory, but something about the way his eyes lingered made me tense.

Matt shifting slightly. “We’ve been good. Work’s been… busy.”

“Yeah,” I added quickly, sitting up straighter. “A lot of editing on my end lately.”

Noah blinked like he hadn’t noticed our reactions. “I was just asking,” he said with a lazy shrug. “Didn’t mean to sound like a dad checking in on your report cards.”

Matt let out a short breath, subtly relaxing. “Nah, man. Everything’s solid.”

I nodded too, trying not to look suspicious. But the glance Matt and I shared said enough—we were both nervous wrecks pretending to be calm.

“How’s school been?” I asked, hoping to steer the conversation somewhere safer.

Noah let out a dramatic groan, sinking further into the couch. “Brutal,” he said. “I swear, if I have to memorize one more type of jurisdiction, my brain’s going to short-circuit.”

I laughed. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true,” he muttered, taking another bite of his burger. “ I had to write a paper comparing subject-matter jurisdiction to personal jurisdiction—why are there so many kinds of jurisdiction?”

Matt chuckled. “Sounds like a you problem, Mr. lawyer.”

“Easy for you to say,” Noah replied, pointing a fry at him. “You’re not the one crying over case law at 3 AM.”

“Still chose it though,” I teased.

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Just remind me to never take another winter course again. Being home is the only thing keeping me sane right now.”

I shrugged playfully. “Well, thank goodness this is your last year. Soon you’ll officially be Harvey Specter, and I’ll be your Mike Ross.”

Matt let out a soft chuckle while Noah gave me a look, clearly trying not to smile.

“For the hundredth time, Daphne,” he said, shaking his head, “I’m not hiring you without a law degree.”

“Rude,” I said with mock offense. “So much for my dreams.”

He smirked. “Sorry, ethics come first.”

I stuck my tongue out at him as he grabbed another fry. “Anyway… still gotta make it through finals and pass the bar. That’s when the real stress begins.”

Matt leaned back into the couch beside me. “You’ll pass. You’re one of the most disciplined people I know.”

Noah raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Did you just call me obedient?”

He wiggled his brows at Matt, who casually blew him a kiss across the room.

I stared at them in utter disbelief, my jaw half-dropped.

Noah burst into laughter at my expression. “You seem jealous, Daph?”

“Disgusted actually” I crossed my arms. “Why would I be jealous of two fully grown, supposedly straight men shamelessly flirting with each other?”

Matt smirked. “Because you’re not getting any of the attention, obviously.”

“Oh please,” I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “If I wanted attention, I wouldn’t be sitting here watching this bromantic comedy unfold.”

Noah leaned back with a smug smile. “Just admit it—you can’t handle our chemistry.”

I groaned. “I need a new brother…and boss.”

I lay sprawled on my bed, the distant sound of Matt and Noah still laughing and messing around in the living room echoing faintly through the walls. They’d been at it for nearly three hours now, and it was pushing close to midnight.

I turned onto my side, scrolling aimlessly through my phone to pass the time. My thumb paused over the photo album. A small smile tugged at my lips.

There was one of us at that old-school diner, both grinning like idiots over milkshakes. Another where we were holding hands under the table, only our intertwined fingers in focus. One he’d secretly taken of me in LA—sunlight spilling through the window, catching my messy hair and sleepy smile. There were a few random selfies, kissing each other’s cheeks, our faces squished together like goofs. 

And then, the one that made my chest warm: a shot he had taken on my phone, of me cuddled into him, half-asleep, smiling in that lazy, content way I only ever did around him. His arm was around me, protective and loose, and even though I wasn’t looking at the camera, the happiness was clear on my face.

I stared at that one for a while, thumb hovering over the screen, heart aching in the softest way.

Gosh, when did this boy start meaning so much to me?

I sighed, locking my phone and tossing it on the nightstand. The laughter outside had died down a little.

A part of me wanted to call him in here. Just to talk. Just to have him near again. Instead, I tossed the blanket off and padded toward the bathroom, grabbing my toothbrush from the cup by the sink. The cold tile met my bare feet as I began brushing my teeth, half-lost in thought, still a little warm from the memories sitting in my phone.

Just as I leaned down to rinse, the door creaked open.

I turned, toothbrush still in hand, and found Matt slipping inside, shutting the door behind him with that trademark smirk playing on his lips.

“Seriously?” I whispered through a mouthful of toothpaste. “What if Noah catches you in here?”

Matt just shrugged, unbothered, and reached behind him to quietly click the lock shut. “Guess we’ll just have to be real quiet then,” he murmured with a grin, stepping closer.

I rolled my eyes, rinsing quickly. “You’re ridiculous.”

He leaned against the counter, watching me with that boyish smile that made my stomach flutter. “You missed me. Don’t lie.”

I gave him a look through the mirror, dabbing my face with a towel. “I saw you like, two hours ago.”

“That’s a long time,” he teased, slipping his arms around my waist from behind and resting his chin on my shoulder.

I finished rinsing my mouth and used a towel to wipe. 

“You’re impossible,” I muttered, though I didn’t pull away. I felt his warmth through the fabric of my shirt, his breath brushing against my skin.

He turned his head, pressing a soft kiss just under my ear. “I missed you,” he said again, but softer this time. Sincere.

I sighed, a small smile tugging at my lips despite myself. “Same to be honest.”

Matt chuckled, turning me gently around to face him. “I think I’m starting to understand just how lucky I am,” he said, brushing a piece of hair behind my ear.

I looked up at him, heart thudding, our bodies close in the cramped bathroom space. His fingers traced slow, delicate circles along my waist.

“Matt…” I warned, half teasing, half breathless.

“Yeah?” he murmured, leaning in just enough that our noses brushed.

“I swear if Noah comes knocking—”

“I’ll hide in the shower,” he whispered, grinning against my lips.

I giggled, finally leaning in the rest of the way to kiss him—slow, warm, and full of something I wasn’t entirely ready to name yet. But whatever it was…it felt like home.

Matt’s lips moved against mine with growing urgency, his hands slipping under the hem of my shirt to rest on my hips. I melted into him, arms wrapped around his neck, my back pressing lightly into the counter. The bathroom was dimly lit, our breathing the only sound between soft kisses.

“Sweetheart…” Matt murmured between kisses, voice low and husky. His lips brushed down my jaw, then back to my mouth, deeper this time—slow and intoxicating. My fingers tangled in the fabric of his hoodie, and I couldn’t help the quiet noise that slipped from my throat.

Then—

BANG. BANG. BANG.

“Matt?” Noah’s voice came from just outside the door. “What are you doing, man? You said you were just using the bathroom—did you fall in or something?”

I practically jumped, smacking Matt’s chest in panic as I pulled away, breathless. “Oh my god,” I whispered sharply, wide-eyed.

Matt blinked, lips red and chest rising. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, already moving toward the door.

I grabbed his sleeve. “Don’t open it yet—he’ll see me,” I hissed.

Matt grinned, clearly still high on the moment, but nodded. “Seems like youre the one who needs to hide in the shower”

“Matt?” Noah called again, louder now. “You good?”

“Yeah!” Matt shouted back, forcing a casual tone. “Chill, man. I’m… taking a shit.”

I looked at him, incredulous. Taking a shit? Really? 

Noah scoffed through the door. “Of course you are? That burger digested quick.”

Matt turned to me with a shrug and mouthed, he’s suspicious.

I mouthed back, because you’re being sketchy!

“Matt!” Noah called out again, this time closer. “Have you seen my sister?”

Matt’s grip on my waist tightened. His body was still between me and the door, and I watched the flicker of panic in his eyes before he called back—

“No!” he shouted. “I haven’t seen her!”

I smacked his chest silently, mouthing seriously?

Matt cleared his throat and added, “Maybe she went for a walk or something. She was talking about it earlier.”

I stared at him with wide eyes like he’d just handed us both a death sentence.

“A walk?” Noah’s voice was now right outside the bathroom door. “Why the hell would she go for a walk at midnight, Matt? That doesn’t sound like her.”

Shit.

Matt winced, trying to come up with something else. I heard Noah curse under his breath. “I’m calling her.”

My blood ran cold.

I frantically dug into the pocket of my pajama shorts, yanking out my phone and silencing it just as the screen lit up with Noah Incoming Call.

I held it up to Matt, wide-eyed, breathing through my nose like I was in a spy movie.

Matt bit down a laugh, barely holding it in, whispering, “You’re literally gonna get us killed.”

The phone buzzed silently in my hand, over and over. I watched Noah’s shadow shift under the door.

“Why isn’t she picking up?” he muttered to himself, his voice low but too close. I could hear the frown in his tone. “Matt?”

Matt turned toward the door. “Yo, man. I’m—still in the bathroom. Can we not have a conversation while I’m in here? Kind of in the middle of something.”

I smacked his chest again, mouthing you’re so dead.

Noah sighed, frustrated. “I’m gonna go check outside.”

Matt turned to me as we both exhaled like we’d just been defusing a bomb.

We heard Noah’s footsteps move away from the door, and Matt pressed his forehead to mine, still trying not to laugh. “Sweetheart, I swear… we’re this close to getting murdered.”

I whispered back, “We need to never do this again.”

He grinned, brushing his lips over mine again. “Until next time?”

I gave him a narrow-eyed look but couldn’t stop the smile creeping onto my lips. “You’re insane.”

Then he slowly opened the bathroom door—checking that the coast was clear—before slipping out, and I followed a second later, heartbeat thundering in my chest. 

I slipped quietly back into my room, heart still racing as I closed the door behind me. A second later, I heard Matt’s footsteps pad softly toward the living room.

He peeked out to make sure Noah was really gone, and when he was sure the coast was clear, he came back to my room, pushing the door open just enough to step in.

“Looks like he actually went outside to look for you,” he said under his breath, then leaned in and gave me a quick kiss. His lips were warm and fimilar. 

“I’m gonna head out now,” he said quietly. “Before he comes back and catches me crawling out of your room like a criminal.”

I nodded, trying not to smile as he pulled the door closed behind him again, but he paused.

“I’ll text him and say you came back while he was gone.”

I nodded again, a soft warmth settling over me. “Okay. Drive safe.” 

Matt leaned in one more time, placing a chase kiss on my lips, his voice low and tender. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight,” I whispered, and with one last glance, he slipped away, leaving the faintest smell of his cologne behind—just enough to make me miss him already.

READ ALL RELEASED CHAPTERS NOW!

[a/n: I need to get the climx to get going, I'm aiming for like 21-15 chapters? like and reblog! mwah] –ceyana

Tags: @oopsiedaisydeer @ribbonlovergirl @mattsfrenchtoast @lm-a-mirrorball @urlocallera @kingofeverythingmb @idkwhatimdoinghereeeeeee @malox12 @sturnslux3 @carrielovesmatt @vanillakissesxx @sagesturns @enviedparty101 @kiarasmaybank @mattscore @fmg05 @mattsdiva @kenah-sturniolo @tropicfessed @courta13 @meatballlover10 @ellssturn @idkwhatthisis2009 @mattspillowprincess @chrissturniolodailysluts @babyt0matoes @angelxsturns @mattsbabyangel @mattysmrwrinkleton @beardedbernard @sturnsfluff

(Comment "taglist" on this post to be added to list!)