#and like... they did tell us about it in march

[killishin]

inconveniences are a common instance in your line of work, it springs up in the most unimaginable ways in the most horrid times but you— you handle them. you can.

that's what you always told yourself.

you had found yourself involved with jason regarding a certain undercover mission, it required both of you to stay close to the target.

at this moment, you and jason are standing in the hotel room he booked which, coincidentally, has only one damn bed. he is someone you're deeply annoyed of, maybe even dare to say hate, but you're a nice person, you don't hold such extreme feelings. he isn't that bad, sure he's got a mouth on him but he is tolerable—

"well isn't this interesting."

"i will actually hit you."

you hate him.

you throw the bag on the bed, which had two towels beautifully rolled into swans, joined to form a heart. butchered it, just like you might have to the entirety of this nonsensical establishment. who even makes those stupid heart swans anymore?!

"what the hell did you do jason?" you took a huge inhale, sharp, while rubbing your face as if to somehow magically erase this situation from existence. you were trying to keep your cool, after all, you're the calmer, more sane vigilante of the two.

"right. real mature of you to shove all the blame on me." he scoffed as he practically sauntered off to the chair by the window, sitting on it comfortably before putting his legs on the small round table. his confidence, like he owned the damn room, which he did technically since he paid for it, was itching your soul.

your brows furrowed as your lips parted in confusion, "im not shoving any blame, i am putting it at its rightful place." clearly your composure was long gone, like a poof in the air.

his lips tugged up lazily in a knowing manner, he did this a lot, as if he knew you better than you did yourself. "i had texted you about the shortage of rooms. you said, its fine. go on, sweetheart, check." he goaded you, tilting his head back as that self assured smile remained plastered on his face.

you didn't had to check, you remembered it well but you still couldn't stomach this. "you didn't tell me they gave us only one room— did you even tell them that we needed two, separate rooms?"

"like I'd wanna be stuck in a room with you."

"well did you?" you pressed on annoyingly, teeth almost gritting and he simply raised his brow, giving you a pointed look.

your stomach twisted and churned while your cheeks, having a mind of their own, started growing warm. with a groan you rubbed your face again before pushing your hair back and marching to the landline.

"i'm calling room service. they— they have to fix this—" you muttered firmly while squinting your eyes to find the number.

"you do that, watch them tell you this is the last room."

"how do you know that?"

"i've read books."

you turn your head over your shoulder to give him a deadpanned look, "this isn't a rom com."

cut to two minutes later and you're sat on the edge of the bed with a half mortified, half dumbed out look, staring into the space. he was right, they said it was the last room.

"oh my god," he laughed, eyes crinkling into cresents as he couldn't keep it in.

"what?"

"we are in a rom-com."

"is the romance in the room with us?" you deadpanned and his cackled even more.

shaking his head, he took his legs off the table before getting up and taking his jacket off. his amused eyes linger on you, lips threatening to spill more to add to your irritation.

your eyes find his and you huff quietly in irritation before getting up and heading to your duffel bag. as you fetch a change of clothes and head to the bathroom, you pause. you turn on your heels, an arm resting on the wall as your brows furrow, like you just had a very serious thought.

"jason."

"hm?"

"how against sleeping in the hallway are you?"

"i will throw you off the window. scram." he replied without missing a beat.

the shower wasn't as pleasing, how could it be? the impending doom of sharing a bed with him— jason, of all people. its not like you had a secret, unrequited love for him. no, it was something more persistent, annoying, a headache.

there was this lingering tension between you. it was more than lust, yet not something you could put a name on. neither of you could, you didn't know what it was. but it was evident in the lingering gaze, the brush of the other's touch, insults that turned to flirting, caring in ways you think is indirect but seems obvious to others— there was this connection. a bond that had formed over years of working together, arguing and making up with quiet, reluctant apologies. and as much as you hated it, you were scared of those very bonds, like him. you were scared of its fragility.

which is why, maybe, you kept that line between you, even it was long blurred.

you stepped out of the bathroom, bravado again going poof as you stand awkwardly for a moment. jason was beside the bed, checking his phone with that little frown on his face, lower lips slightly jutted out. you averted your eyes just as the world 'adorable' entered your mind.

'get a grip, dumbass' you reminded yourself before shaking your head and clearing your throat before heading towards the bed.

"well i hope you like the floor." you said nonchalantly, your eyes averted and fixed on the bed that you're straightening and fluffing... which is already made.

his eyes glanced up from the screen, a brow raised slightly, "..why?"

you pull the blanket off before getting under them, still averting your eyes, hands still fluffing the blanket. "cus you're gonna sleep there."

he scoffed, loud. keeping his phone back on the table he crossed his arms, staring right at you with narrowed eyes. he seemingly couldn't comprehend why it's such a big issue. or maybe he just doesn't like the fact that you're that against sharing a bed with him.

"what is your deal? it's just one night." he said, unbothered and so casual that for a moment it did make you feel conscious about your actions. why were you the only one affected by this?

"you're my deal—"

"oooh." he grinned mischievously and your eyes widened with a glare before you threw a pillow at him, which he caught with ease.

"i meant you're the problem. i cannot share a room with you, much less a bed!" you hissed, but with each word your voice died down to an angry whisper because you're pretty sure the walls are paper thin.

"and why is that?" he questioned, the delight and tease in his voice increasing ten fold. he was enjoying your misery, more so the way you're getting flustered, be it anger or something else.

for a moment you sputtered, dumbfounded that he even had to ask that, but then he hummed at you questioningly, deep and amused, and that sound did not help at all.

your nose scrunched into a frown as you snatched his pillow and put it on your side, "you're fucking huge, alright. you big ass pole. i just don't want you hogging the whole bed and the blanket."

"ah." he nodded to himself, his lips twitching as he made his way to the bathroom. he then paused at the entrance, looking over his shoulder, "you're scared you won't be able to resist me."

with that, he closed the door, humming some stupid song, leaving you fuming while your heart begging for mercy.

"resist my ass. what's there to resist? killing him in his sleep?" you muttered to yourself before switching off the lights and laying down, pulling the covers over your head.

you tried to put yourself to sleep before he came, you tried counting to hundred, breathing tactics— everything. but your silly little mind was busy freaking out. its a wonder how you lasted this long in the vigilante field.

just as you heard the opening of the door to the bathroom, you went still, made sure to keep your breathing quiet and even. you heard some ruffling around, some sighs before you felt the bed dip beside you and you swore your heart's never jumped this bad.

you stayed still, very, very still. eyes open under the covers but body limp as dead.

"you're not sleeping."

"nope."

"why not?"

"don't want you to stab me the second i close my eyes."

"i won't."

since there was no point in keeping up the obvious act, you pulled the covers off your face and shifted to get comfortable.

"if your foot even touches me for a second tonight i will cut it off." you murmured and he sighed with a roll of his eyes, shifting to get comfortable and, of course, his foot touched yours.

"jason!" you angrily whispered, and basically snatched your foot away from him, "it wasn't intentional!" he chuckled.

"wai— stop hogging the blanket you fucking hulk!"

"you're the one hogging it all!"

"well i run cold!"

"that's a you problem."

you finally opened your eyes and turned to glare at him. big mistake. that's when you realised how little the space was between you both. maybe it was because he was built big and broad, or maybe the bed was unbearably tiny.

your breath got caught in your throat as your eyes stared— admired him up close. harsh lines, blemishes, scars old and new running from his face to the sliver of his chest that was visible. and still, despite everything that usually views him as rough and untouchable, the dim light from the window makes him almost gentle. maybe this was the jason that hides from the world, tucked in the most sacred corner of his heart.

"done staring you pervert?" he murmured, his eyes still closed and you rolled your eyes before looking away.

"i hate you."

"as long as you don't hog the covers, i don't care." but he does.

underneath that cool, sarcastic and teasing exterior, his heart's a chaotic mess. he could feel the warmth radiating off of you, smell the vanilla off your skin and it makes his ears go red. he was just as shocked as you when he found out there was only one bed. the mere thought of sharing a bed with you made his heart shut down.

and he hated that. he hated the way his soul finds you even when he shouldn't.

there's nothing between him and you, even if some part of him wanted otherwise.

maybe an hour passed or two, but neither of you could sleep. you were worse than him, with all the turning and sighs.

"jesus can you stop?" he lazily murmured in irritation and you frowned. "I can't sleep."

"well then sleep on the goddamn chair and let me sleep."

silence.

"fine." you sighed but he recognised that stubborn firmness that meant he messed up.

"ugh wait—"

"zip it." you got off the bed and rounded the bed before plopping down on the chair, pulling your knees up to your chest and laying your head back.

now, normally jason wouldn't give a flying fuck, he'd instead hog the whole bed, laying like a starfish. but this is different, you're different. you have weaseled your way in his life and he can't pretend it doesn't matter.

"alright sleep in that tiny chair. let's see how long you last there." he muttered as he crossed his hands behind his head.

maybe a minute passed.

and then ten...

another ten...

"alright get your ass in the bed." he grunted as he got up, sighing while rubbing his forehead in annoyance.

"piss off."

"real mature, ha ha ha. now come on, grow up and get in the damn bed!"

"why do you want me in bed so badly, huh?"

"cus i can hear your shitty brain cursing at me—"

"oh yeah? suddenly you're a telepath? huh?"

"fuckin' hell—"

"nah its something else."

"get–"

"you're being sooo weirdly clingy–"

"i swear—"

"what, you in love with me or something?"

dead silence.

"alright."

you didn't mean to say that, it slipped. the heat of the moment got into your head and mixed the wires, resulting in one huge mess. while jason on the other hand, it really was radio silence in his mind. whatever he was doing, about to do, it was all on autopilot. his reasoning, he had enough. consequences be damned.

your eyes shot open just in time to see him throw the covers off before getting off the bed. his face was unreadable, stoic— even more blank in the dim light from the window. he came to a stop just infront of you, making you jerk back and crane your neck to stare at him warily.

"....what are you—"

"im gonna say one last time." he said before leaning down, keeping both his hands on the arms of the chair, caging you in.

"get. your ass. in the goddamn bed." his voice had dropped down to a rough murmur, yet the warning was firm enough to send shivers down your spine.

you stared back at him, even in the darkness his blue eyes gleamed green, such beautiful hues they could be another set of weapons for the red hood. bless the helmet.

"......no— WHAT THE FUCK?!" you screeched as, in a second, you were hauled into his arms bridal style, effortlessly. your face grew impossibly warm, eyes widened, lips agape. "WHAT are you DOING ?! oh my god— get off me—"

he sighed, like you were nothing but a mild inconvenience and then extending the hand beneath your back, he captured both your hands in his hold.

"stop scratching me, you fucking canine."

if it was possible your jaw would fall to the floor. it was all too much, the audacity, the disrespect, the sheer warmth of his chest and how cosy it was in his arms, the way his face was so close to you— close enough to feel his breath fall on you.

your senses were overwhelmed.

and so was his.

he was the picture of calmness, yet on the inside he was panicking like a teen confessing to his first love. what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck—

he laid you down, pulling the covers over you and then rounded the bed before getting in. and you thought that'd be it.

and then you felt his arm snake around your waist, splayed flat against your stomach, before pulling you back to his chest. his warmth enveloped you while his breath brushed your neck, and you knew what restraint was. he was close to making this a full blown cuddling session, but the little logic that remained in his mind was holding him back.

you thought it was your heart racing like a train, but no, no it was his. his was much faster, much louder than yours, his hands were maybe even trembling.

oh.

oh.

"jason."

"shut up."

"...."

"you do know how awkward—"

"i know."

" we have to talk. tomorrow. about...whatever you did."

"and what you said."

"hey yours is way more embarrassing—"

he slipped another arm beneath your head and gently wrapped it around your head, closing your eyes. "sleep before i kick you out."

nothing could have stopped the smile that threatened on your lips. your tense body gradually relaxed into his, growing heavier against his. the you that was screaming in your head was now merely a whisper, for despite the uncertain questions the future now has, a lot has been answered and known.

also, your pride might have just inflated a bit knowing he's more affected than you.

"you're such a loser, jason."

his body stilled for a moment, your laugh ringing in his mind till it got saved as something precious. his lips tugged upwards as he pulled you closer, his lips kissed the air above your head. he was much too afraid to touch you anymore than he already has.

"i know."

yeah he's a loser. how could he ever win against you?

dividers by @enchanthings

NOTE: if it isn't obvious i love this trope, its a little silly AND I LOVE IT. prompts taken from this post by @celestialwrites, her prompts are sooo awesome.

reblogs are appreciated! :)

[aethercoreheart]

congratulations!

a well-deserved treat for your hard work. choose any (or all) of the love interests to celebrate with. fluff, suggestive (a little something from me to celebrate 500 followers!)

 ‧₊ ˚  ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋

xavier

“Xavier, please, let me carry something.”

Xavier shakes his head firmly in reply, his eyes trained on the trail in front of him. He adjusts the backpack on his shoulders, grunting softly as he does so.

“I’m fine,” he reassures you. “We’re almost there, anyway.”

You eye him closely – he doesn’t seem to be struggling, but he doesn’t seem to be carrying the bulky backpack with ease either. 

“Where is this trail taking us?” you ask, peering ahead. You’re on a familiar hill that overlooks the city – you’ve climbed this hill many times, but the trail you’re currently taking is one that’s new to you.

“You’ll see,” he answers vaguely. He flashes you a brief smile as he marches ahead. “Come on, it’s almost sunset.”

—

“Wow, Xavier!”

The view in front of you is stunning. The sun is almost at the horizon, casting a golden orange glow over the city. The lookout is silent, save for Xavier unpacking the things from his backpack. You had offered to help with whatever he was doing, but he insisted on you just enjoying the view from where you stand.

“Don't turn around until I tell you to,” he had instructed.

You close your eyes as you bask in the last few moments of warmth from the setting sun. The late summer breeze blows through your hair. The sounds of the busy city life below you are almost muffled and drowned out by the chirping cicadas. As you’re enjoying these moments, you feel a set of arms wrap around your shoulders, embracing you. Xavier’s cheek is warm, pressing against yours. You reach up to squeeze his arms, relishing the view and the person with you.

“Sit down with me,” Xavier murmurs against your skin. 

You let him lead you back to what he was unpacking, and you can’t help but gasp at what he’s done. In front of you is a picnic mat, covered in snacks and drinks that Xavier knows you love. He guides you in sitting down, with him taking his place next to you. There are sandwiches, filled with cream and jam, cut out in the shapes of teddy bears and bunnies; a platter filled with a selection of sliced fruit; cans of both of your favorite drinks; and a cake, covered in white frosting with writing scrawled on with red icing saying “CONGRATS!”. The writing looks suspiciously like Xavier’s. There’s also a small, single-flower vase, filled with a wildflower no doubt he picked from one of the bushes nearby. At every corner of the mat is an electric lantern – Xavier came prepared for the early evening.

For a few moments, you can’t find the words to express how you feel. Your heart swells in your chest, and you feel the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Xavier regards you, an affectionate twinkle in his eye. 

“Did you make the cake?” you ask him, trying to keep the incredulity out of your voice. 

He laughs in response, his chuckles carrying out over the lookout. “No. I was tempted to, though. But I wanted this to be a celebration, not a punishment.” He reaches for the cake, and swipes at the icing with his finger. He then holds it out to you. “Have a taste,” he offers.

You’re about to lick at the icing when he moves his finger away, and flicks the icing onto the corner of your mouth.

“Ugh, Xavier!” You’re about to wipe it away, when he leans in, his lips pecking at where he placed the icing. He pulls away quickly before you have a chance to retaliate, leaving you stunned for a few moments. He licks the icing away from his lips, his eyes narrowing in amusement.

You can't help yourself – you lunge at him, your arms wrapping around his neck. He laughs as his arms find their way around your waist, pulling you into him. One of his hands goes for the back of your head, bringing it to his chest.

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispers, his hand caressing your hair. “You have no idea how lucky I am to be with you.”

Your lips immediately find their way to his, smothering him in a kiss. You feel him smile against your lips before returning your kiss. You suddenly remember that you’re in public and you break away from him briefly before he pulls you back in.

“We’re alone,” he tells you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “A friend who works on the city council says this trail and lookout won’t be open to the public until next week. We’re the first ones to test it out.”

You grin at him, planting your hands on his chest. He lets you push him down onto the picnic mat, his eyes wide, a red flush already spreading across his cheeks.

“Good,” you tell him, your hands sliding up his torso. “I would hate to be interrupted.”

  ‧₊ ˚  ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋

zayne

You’ve been looking forward to this celebratory dinner the whole week, but as you enter your apartment, you’re feeling less and less motivated to go out. All you want to do is lay down, close your eyes and hibernate after all the work you’ve done.

“Zayne?” you call out, wondering where he is in the apartment.

“In here,” you hear his voice, coming from the bedroom. 

You remove your shoes and kick them over to the wall – you’ll put them away later, when you have the energy. You trudge down the hallway to the bedroom, where you see Zayne, sitting on the bed, already dressed and ready to go out. 

You groan inwardly. He looks so damn good in that black button up, with the sleeves rolled up his forearms. He’s wearing that cologne you bought him, and it makes your mouth water. You swear you can feel your pupils dilating. You gawk at him, the urge to take him out on your arm and show him off to the world battling with the urge to wrestle him onto the bed. And then those two urges fight the urge to just curl up on the couch and eat snacks.

“Welcome home,” he says, looking up from his phone momentarily. He does a double take, and he peers at you through his glasses. “Are you… going to get ready?”

You walk towards the bed, and sigh before flopping face down onto it. A wave of exhaustion washes over you, draining you of your last bits of energy.

“Give me five minutes,” you mumble into the mattress. “I just need to… recharge for a little bit.”

You feel Zayne’s fingers weave through your hair, squeezing gently, giving your scalp a massage. You’re unable to stop yourself from groaning, and your body relaxes into the mattress. 

You turn your head sideways so that you can speak to him. “You’re going to hate me. I know you already made reservations, but I think I want to stay home tonight.”

He stops his massaging and pulls his hand away from your hair. You almost want to tell him to keep going, but instead you wait for his reply. 

“I thought you were going to say that.”

You sit up immediately, and lock eyes with him. He gives you a small smile before continuing. “Don’t worry, I’ve already called to order in. Just in case this happened.”

You take a pause for a few beats before speaking. “And… if I did want to go out?”

Zayne motions to the partly opened wardrobe, where a selection of clothes and shoes are separated and set out. “I’ve helped pick out a few outfits for you. So you wouldn’t experience as much decision fatigue.” He looks at you over the edge of his glasses. “I can also cancel the order I placed.” 

He stands up from the bed, his gaze on you inquisitive. “So do you want me to go ahead with the order? Or do you want to pick out an outfit for tonight?”

You reach for his wrist and grab it, pulling him down to the bed. He doesn’t say anything, but raises an eyebrow at you. You feel the tears welling up in your eyes, a lump in your throat forming. You embrace him, your face burying into his shirt. You inhale deeply, breathing in the scent of his cologne. His hand finds its way to your hair again, giving it soft strokes. 

He presses his lips to the top of your hair, murmuring into it. “You worked so hard, and did so well. You can rest tonight, if you want. You deserve it.”

You look up at him, your eyes meeting once again. His gaze is soft, understanding, waiting for you to answer. He takes his hand and places it on your cheek, his thumb stroking it tenderly. You bring your lips close to his, and he meets them with his own, his kiss gentle and tentative. The kiss becomes deeper, and his hands go from your face to sliding up your back into your shirt. He kneads into your back with his knuckles, massaging the knots in your muscles. You can’t help but moan into his mouth, and you feel him smile against your lips. 

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs, continuing his kneading.

You break away from him momentarily, breathless. “You better call in and confirm that delivery,” you pant. “We’re going to be hungry after this.”

  ‧₊ ˚  ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋

rafayel

You stare at the message on your screen, the corner of your mouth quirking up in disappointment.

> sorry, cutie. cant see you 2night. but I promise we’ll see each other 2morrow night. my place ok?

You sigh as you hold the phone in your hand. Your fingers start typing up a paragraph about how Rafayel has been avoiding you all week, how you haven’t been able to see him. That you’ve been wanting to celebrate with him, but you can’t even get a proper text from him. You take a deep breath and delete the essay you were in the middle of typing. You send him a single emoji.

< 👍

You place your phone down on the couch next to you as you lean back, wondering if he’s going to be offended by your dismissive text. You decide that you don’t care. For an entire week, he’s put off seeing you, and has sent you cryptic texts with vague excuses. You think that the next time you’ll hear from him will be the next day, when he comes up with another reason as to why he’s not meeting with you, but you hear your phone buzz as it receives a message. You peer at it, not wanting to pick it up, but see the notification from Rafayel.

> hey dun be like that. 2morrow 4 real I promise. u better be there or be square.

You allow yourself a little smile, amused that he picked up on your tone, even through text. You decide to answer him, your smile growing wider as you continue typing.

< fine. if you don’t answer the door, i’m kicking it down. that, i promise.

—

The door to Rafayel’s place is ajar, and you’re already preparing for how you’re going to scold him when you see him. The words ‘dangerous’, ‘unsafe’, and ‘break-in’ bounce around in your head as you make your way into the house. You shut the door behind you, making sure it’s locked, before you squint into the dimly lit premises. Your eyes start to adjust and you notice a warm golden glow coming from Rafayel’s designated studio space.

“Rafayel?” you call out, your voice hesitant. “Why is it so dark?”

You wait a couple of beats. No answer. You follow the soft light and find yourself in his studio space, surrounded by dozens of lit candles. 

You barely have enough time to mutter “What–” before a pair of hands are cupped over your eyes.

“Dammit, you almost ruined the surprise,” Rafayel murmurs in your ear. 

He still has his fingers pressed over your eyelids as you struggle against him. 

“What surprise? Rafayel, what are you doing?”

There’s a moment of silence before Rafayel speaks. “Do you trust me?”

You nod, your own hands finding their way over his. You let him guide you as you take small, cautious steps, being hyper-aware of the lit candles dotted around the studio. He chuckles as he continues to lead you, his own steps mirroring yours.

He then stops abruptly, one of his hands dropping, the other spreading out so it can cover both of your eyes.

“Sit,” he instructs, and you obey, your hands grasping for the seat. “Keep your eyes closed until I tell you to open them.”

He lifts his hand from your face, and you keep your eyes squeezed tight, your heart already racing. 

“God, Rafayel, if this is one of your pranks, I swear–”

“Oh ye of little faith,” he interjects in a sing-song tone. “You can open them now.”

The moment you open your eyes, you are stunned into silence by the scene in front of you. Rafayel stands next to a carved marble bust, mounted on a pedestal up to his height. It takes a few moments to register why the bust looks so familiar – it’s you. You rise from where you’re sitting, your throat immediately feeling tight. Rafayel watches you, an amused sparkle in his eye. You approach the bust, your fingers reaching out for it. Your features, some of which you’re not particularly fond of, are lovingly carved into the piece of marble. You look at Rafayel, then at the bust, then back at Rafayel. 

You’re at a loss for words, but he reaches out to you, and envelops you in an embrace. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t able to see you this week,” he tells you as his hand pushes your head into his shoulder. “I really wanted to finish this so that I could surprise you with a congratulatory present.”

You nod into his embrace, your arms around him squeezing him. 

He laughs as he takes a finger to lift your chin. He places a delicate kiss onto your lips. Then another one, that becomes deeper and deeper. You break away, gasping for air, but you take his face in both of your hands and pull him in for another kiss. His hands are under your shirt, groping at the skin on your back, pressing you deeper into him. 

“Mmm,” he breathes in between kisses. “I’ve been working on this sculpture for weeks. Nothing beats the real thing.”

You giggle as you push him away, and he holds your face by your cheeks, his eyes staring deep into yours. 

“I’m always so amazed at you,” he whispers, his eyes glistening. “I’m sure you’re going to do many more things that amaze me.”

  ‧₊ ˚  ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋

sylus

Your eyes scan the room as you sip on your fourth tequila sunrise. You’re not sure how much the alcohol content is in one of these things but they’re damn delicious, and you seem to be handling the liquor pretty well. You know this little celebration is for you and your achievements, but you can’t help but feel like you’d rather be anywhere than here, surrounded by your colleagues. The only thing getting you through the night is your indulgent cocktail. That and Sylus. 

You watch as he mingles with a group of your colleagues effortlessly, his cool charisma no doubt charming them. As if feeling your eyes on him, his gaze travels to you, locking with yours. He says something to the group, and they all nod, grinning as he exits the group. He sidles up to you at the bar, a small smile on his face.

“They like you,” you tell him, raising your eyebrows. You find that the simple sentence is difficult for you to say. You clear your throat, unsure of what’s making your mouth feel funny.

“I know they do,” Sylus chuckles, reaching for your almost empty glass. “You, on the other hand, like this cocktail a lot. You’ve been nursing it the entire night.” He takes the glass from you and places it onto the bar. 

“That’s actually my fourth one. Woah.” That sentence proves even more difficult, and you notice that your tongue has gone numb. Actually, it feels like you no longer have feeling in your entire mouth. 

You attempt to step away from the bar, but stumble while doing so. Sylus catches you by the elbow, and holds you steady as you sway on your feet.

“Uh oh,” is all you can say to him as you look at him helplessly.

He grins at you, amused. “Looks like the tequila is finally hitting you.”

He holds you by the waist as you attempt to find your balance. “Do you want me to get the car?” You nod, gripping his arm tightly. “Do you want to say goodbye to your colleagues first?” You shake your head vigorously. “Okay,” he says, his grin growing wider. “Leave it to me. I’m very good at Irish goodbyes.”

—

As if reading your mind, Sylus pulls into the drive thru of a fast food place. You’re about to chime in with your order, but he beats you to it.

“Three large fries and a soda, please,” he tells the speaker box. He then looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to interject, but you nod and give him a thumbs up.

The drive home is quiet as you munch on your late night snack, and you attempt to feed him some of your fries as he drives. He grabs your wrist and pulls your hand up to his face, his mouth taking multiple fries in one bite. He takes your offers of the soda the same way, his lips finding the straw without his eyes leaving the road. You’re more than impressed with his multitasking. 

You stare out of the window of the car, watching the streetlights and buildings zoom by as you continue to eat your fries. A moody jazz tune is playing quietly from the car’s sound system. This night time drive with Sylus is definitely what you would rather be doing instead of spending the night surrounded by your colleagues.

—

Sylus ignores your pleas to let you walk by yourself into the house. You had almost twisted your ankle just stepping out of the car, but had insisted that it was because of your shoes. He scoops his arm under your knees and drapes your arm over his shoulders, hoisting you out of the passenger seat. He closes the door with a swing of his hips and carries you effortlessly with one arm.

“Just hold the fries,” he mutters, using his other hand to open the front door. 

You oblige, carrying the paper bag as he carries you inside. He heads for the living room, where he sets you down gently on the leather four-seater. Wordlessly, he starts removing your shoes, which had been causing you discomfort the entire night. That, and the numerous tequila sunrises, were an accident waiting to happen. He sets your shoes aside and his hands start to work on your feet. You groan involuntarily, feeling your entire body start to relax as he kneads his fingers into your soles.

You place a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Sylus, you don’t have to do that.”

You then lean down, taking his face in both of your hands. You bring your lips to his, engaging in a light, gentle kiss at first, then it deepens, your mouths hungry for each other. You break away first, panting slightly.

“Thank you for coming with me tonight,” you whisper, looking at him through your lashes.

He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, his hand going down to caress your cheek. “I’ll take any and every excuse to celebrate you,” he murmurs, his forehead touching yours. “I’ll always be your biggest fan.”

  ‧₊ ˚  ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋

caleb

“I’m real sorry, Pipsqueak,” Caleb tells you, his voice sounding muffled from the other end of the line. “I’m going to be stuck on this mission for a few more days. I won’t be able to make it home tonight.”

You inhale deeply before you reply, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice. “It’s okay. Just make sure you get home safe, yeah?”

“I should be the one telling you that,” Caleb replies, his voice becoming more distant. “Call me when you get off of work.”

—

The walk to your favorite takeout restaurant isn’t as cheery as it normally is. Probably because you’d rather be having Caleb’s braised chicken over theirs. You order your food and take a seat at one of their tables as you wait. You take your phone out of your jacket pocket and start another call with Caleb. He picks up after two rings.

“What are you getting for dinner?”

“Braised chicken,” you sigh, resigned. “But I’ll be thinking about yours the entire time I’m eating it.”

 He laughs, obviously amused. “Don’t worry, you’ll be eating my chicken soon enough.”

The cashier calls out your order number, and you collect your food from the counter, thanking them as you do so. Your one hand carries the takeout bag while the other keeps your phone on your ear.

“Keep me on the line while you make your way home,” Caleb tells you. You hear things shuffling and moving around in the background on his end of the line. He must be busy doing something.

“Are you sure?” you ask, starting your commute back. “You seem preoccupied.”

“Nah,” he assures you. “You don’t think I can multitask? Tell me about your day.”

—

“And they said ‘Congratulations, but here’s a bunch of paperwork for you to file’,” you grumble, approaching your apartment door. “At least they got me a gift basket.”

You hear Caleb chuckle lightly as you reach for the security pad. Your hand freezes and it hovers over the panel – the door has already been disarmed and unlocked. Your blood runs cold, and a sudden rush of adrenaline makes your heart race.

“Stay on the phone, I’m going to put you in my pocket,” you hiss. “I think someone’s broken into my apartment.”

Before Caleb can reply, you shove your phone into your jacket pocket and open your door as slowly as you can. You tiptoe into the apartment, your ears straining for any sound – it sounds like someone is in the kitchen. You reach for the umbrella you keep by the door and raise it, ready to strike with it. The takeout bag of braised chicken hangs on one of your wrists. The apartment is dark – you hadn’t left any of the lights on when you had left for work that morning. But you know the place and can get around with your eyes closed – an advantage you have over the intruder. You head to the kitchen, being as silent as you can. In the next moment, a shadow moves to stand in front of you. You raise the umbrella higher, ready to bring it down on the intruder, when he speaks in a panicked voice.

“Pipsqueak, wait! It’s me!”

The umbrella stops in its tracks and you blink once, twice, three times, to let your eyes adjust to the lack of light. Caleb side-steps to the wall, reaching for the light switch. He flicks it on, and the darkness is dispelled, revealing him wearing an apron, his hands outstretched defensively. You lower the umbrella, your mouth hanging open.

“What–what–you…?” you try to speak, but nothing comes out of your mouth except for nonsensical stammers.

Caleb reaches for the umbrella in your hands, and you let him take it. He leans it against the wall. He takes the bag hanging around your wrist and places it on the counter. He then reaches for you, and wraps you in a tight embrace. Your arms wrap around him, moving on instinct. 

“Surprise,” he whispers, stroking your hair. “Sorry I tricked you. It almost got me killed.”

 You laugh, feeling lightheaded from the sudden drop of adrenaline. You take a deep breath, the scent of braised chicken suddenly filling your nostrils. You look over Caleb’s shoulder and see the spread he has prepared on the counter – a large serving of his braised chicken, and numerous side dishes take up almost the whole space. Your heart swells – he must have snuck in while you were at work and was cooking the entire day. 

Without saying a word, you take his face in both of your hands and bring it towards yours. Your lips find his, and he immediately returns your kiss, a surprised whimper escaping his lips. You pull back, and he reluctantly breaks the kiss. His eyes are wide, almost pleading. It takes every ounce of your willpower not to kiss him again.

“I’m so proud to call you mine,” he tells you, seemingly unprompted. He brushes your hair away from your face and tucks it behind your ear. “You deserve the world and I can’t believe I have the chance to give it to you.”

Without another moment of hesitation, you grab Caleb by the wrist and pull him towards your bedroom.

“Come on,” you tell him as he trails after you. “The food can wait. I can’t.”

[charmedreincarnation]

My success story (fucking finally)

I’ve been using your lucid dreaming challenge, and couple of days ago, I had another lucid dream. I used both the MOAB and SSILD methods you provided, and I also created my own subliminal using CapCut AI and YouTube modifier.

In the dream, I was being chased by a killer. That’s usual tbh, my dreams are usually nightmares. In the dream I was climbing buildings, even though I’m terrified of heights and not a climber at all. So I became lucid. I realized the whole thing was just a dream because I can’t climb lol and in that moment I had that awareness, I slipped and began to fall. Out of nowhere, this bird thing appeared. It caught me mid-air and saved me. I remember spinning in circles quickly on purpose, to stabilize myself so I wouldn’t wake up like you said. As I was spinning, I looked at the creature thing and said pls, take me to my guardian angel and it did.

It brought me to a woman who had long blonde hair, wings, and a godly presence. She was beautiful. Her name was Helena. I don’t know if she’s really my guardian angel or if I created her in the dream, but either way idgaf but she felt familiar. She told me she’s been watching over me. I asked her to make the dream more beautiful, and instantly, the entire scene changed. She created colors I’ve never seen before shades that don’t even exist in waking life. It looked like a rainbow field, but more cosmic and way more surreal.

Then I asked her to Please, help stop my suffering. Even if I don’t shift right now, please wake me up in a reality where I don’t feel this way anymore, so I can finally focus on my journey She said okay and right after that, I fell off the bird and woke up.

Then i had another false awakening. I knew immediately that I was still dreaming. It was a false awakening, and I could tell unlike the first few times this happened to me. In this dream version of my room, my mom had a lottery ticket. It was dated March 2025. In the dream, it was the winning ticket and then I remembered Neville Goddard’s story about dramatizing the wish fulfilled in a lucid dream and waking up holding the physical item from your dream. So in my false awakening, I decided to do the same. I held onto the ticket tightly and laid back down in the dream bed still holding it as if I were going to sleep with it in my hand so I could wake up with it in real life.

I still can’t believe it actually worked. I woke up with the lottery ticket in real fucking life. It was a real, physical ticket and not just any ticket, but one dated from March like in the dream. I showed it to my mom, and told her it was one of her old ones I forgot to check and she told me to go ahead and check it, just in case. Honestly, I didn’t think anything would come of it. It felt too wild to be real. But it was the winning ticket.

It was a large amount. I won’t say the exact number because I know you can trace things like that online, but just know it’s enough that I don’t have to work. At all. My parents even texted me that morning telling me to just go get my master’s degree, which is literally all I wanted. I didn’t want luxury or fame or anything wildI just wanted time. I wanted freedom. I wanted to not suffer and stress about surviving while trying to shift. the craziest part is that same night, I went to bed and woke up in my dream life. I didn’t even use a method. Just knowing I had money now was enough to trigger the shift I had been chasing for years. And when I say years, I mean it. I’ve been trying to shift since 2016, even before I knew what shifting actually was. I didn’t have the language back then, hut I knew I wanted to explore realities and be apart fk books and movies I’ve been watching and reading. I’ve been consciously trying since probably since 2022 and now, it finally happened.

I had a detailed list of everything I ever wanted down to the tiniest details and I’m still in shock because it all manifested and even more than I asked for. I revised my family dynamic, I revised my appearance, my mental state, my location, my lifestyle, my confidence, and my bank account. I copied Jay @heliosoll and I created my own WR to be my “home reality”and now it’s where I spawn anytime I die in places I will shift to. I manifested everything I wanted. It’s actually overwhelming in the best way. I’m not even going to list it all because it would take forever, but I no longer have anxiety. I no longer struggle with depression. My parents, who used to be strict, emotionally distant, and dismissive like a lot of traditional African parents are now revised to be loving, emotionally present, supportive, and woke. I’m so gorgeous now. And I have real friends and so many of the when before, I was just mid (and very insecure) and surrounded by fake people who only kept me around to feel better about themselves. They just wanted someone to compare themselves to, someone to use for easy validation.

Now I have hobbies, passions, and interests that actually make me happy. Before, my only “hobby” was honestly just surviving my depression. Now I will read, l paint, cook, Work out, journal, write, and travel. My house is clean, spacious, and beautiful. Before it was small, cluttered, and dark. honestly, I used to think it was haunted. I have pets now, even though I used to be allergic. I have so much money like real, life-changing money. Generational wealth level even more than the lottery and I’m already thinking of what kind of business I want to start. I’m leaning toward something luxurious maybe creating my own high-end purse line or maybe something more scalable and simple like e-commerce. I don’t know yet, but I finally have the time, resources, and peace of mind to explore it. Right now, I don’t want a boyfriend But when I am ready, I’ll be manifesting someone tall, rich, attractive, and deeply in love with me. A respectful simp with range, loyalty, and no ego issues. Someone emotionally intelligent and obsessed with me, in the healthiest way.

I even left a few things open-ended, just to let the universe surprise me. For example, I didn’t script a specific car model I just asked for something beautiful and rare. I ended up with a matte black Bentley Bentayga, fully wrapped in metallic lavender detailing with a custom interior from Mansory. It literally looks like a concept car. We also have a yatch and it’s a Sunseeker 100 Yacht I didn’t even know what that was 2 days ago!

But yea….First of all, I want to thank myself, you, and @gorgeouslypink even though, at one point, I genuinely thought you two were the same person. Sorry about that. And also, thank you to @sugarcoatedcherry . You guys really helped me stay focused and hopeful.

I wasn’t even going to post this because im not gonna lie I hate this app sometimes. The drama, the performative advice, the endless paragraphs of recycled nonsense… it made me want to log off for good. But I promised a few friends I’d share what actually worked for me, especially on here and Tumblr, because there were some genuinely helpful people who kept it real.

So here’s what I did one last timefor the girls and gays:

1. I made my own subliminal.

I used CapCut and layered my affirmations over this sound:

https://youtu.be/60o-pNwOmCE?si=KmE52FM6eb_hziL3

To create the affirmations, I took all my doubts and anxieties and put them into AI and asked it to reframe those fears into positive, subconscious-language affirmations. Then, I recorded them in my own voice, because your subconscious responds more deeply to your own tone and rhythm.

2. I used the MOAB sub in the morning and then I listened to my subliminal all day and night

3. I ordered galantamine.

It was supposed to arrive that day, but clearly… I didn’t even need it, LOL. That said, I did research it, and I’ve heard great things especially for lucid dream induction. It just takes forever to ship.

4. I went to bed with a clear intention and naturally woke up around 4 a.m. and did SSILD, super lazily.

5. I read @charmedreincarnation post about dream character control.

This was a game-changer for me. One of my biggest struggles used to be chaos in my dreams characters acting wild, not listening, or turning on me. That post explained how to keep dream characters in line and reminded me that it’s my reality. My rules. Keeping things emotionally stable in the dream really helped me shift with clarity.

Thats it, either way, I’m free. And so are you. I won’t be answering DMs. I’m not even planning to post on my account anymore. I’m choosing to finally leave and live my life now. I really believe that using my own voice for my subliminal was the key that changed everything for me.

My only advice is this a lot of people on here are stuck. They argue over methods, obsess over drama, and waste time fighting on Tumblr instead of actually shifting. Stay far away from that energy. Focus on your life lol. Focus on your self. And don’t fear the world. With shifting, you’re no longer bound by it. When your consciousness is aligned, nothing outside of you can control your experience. That’s the real freedom.

Hey sorry I just saw this but idk if it will post bc the format is too long but that dream sounds wild, and now I’m seriously intrigued by the Neville Goddard lucid dreaming method. I’ve never tried it before, but I’m definitely interested now. I’ve also used the Hemi-Sync theta waves and I 100% recommend it. It works incredibly . I’m so happy the lottery win ended up being a gateway to something even bigger: stepping into your dream life.

I’m so happy for you!!!you truly deserve all your success. The commitment and patience you showed throughout the process is such great part of every success story. It’s always inspiring to see someone stay dedicated and trust the timing. Wishing this and so much more to everyone on their own journey. Thank you for sharing all the details it was inspiring to say the least and I’m going to try some of these techniques myself!

[justagalwhowrites]

The Savage and the Sanctuary: Ch. 14 - Consequences

Your bad behavior catches up with you. A continuation of The Savage and the Sanctuary, a no outbreak TLOU story, from the prologue through chapter 13 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Non-consensual kissing. Improper use of prescription drugs. Marijuana use. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 8.5k

Fic Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3 | Prologue | Previous Chapter

March 3, 2025 - Two months later

The water would have been a rude awakening even if you weren’t hung over but, since you’d spent the night before getting so drunk you couldn’t see straight before getting fucked within an inch of your life by your co-star, having a bottle of water dumped on you was especially unpleasant. 

“What the fuck!” You yelped, sitting bolt upright in bed, the water making your naked skin icy and slick. Chris groaned beside you, clutching at his head. 

“Not a fan of shit getting dropped on you, hm?” Quinn snapped, fists on her hips with a now crumpled and empty bottle of water clutched tight in one. You sputtered, looking down at your bare chest and the wet duvet that was bunched around your waist. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

“What the fuck?” You asked again as you wiped your face clean. 

“What time is it?” Chris groaned, sitting up and Quinn rolled her eyes, looking off to the side. 

“Put some clothes on,” she said. 

“You’re in my room,” you said, snippier than you ever really were with Quinn. “That means you get to deal with me and whoever else I want to be here being naked!” 

“You I don’t mind,” she said, still staring determinedly off to the side. “But I’m not in the mood to get into a staring contest with the dick of Great Britain’s answer to Henry Cavill.” 

“Oh come on darling,” he said, smirking a little. “I’ve done three full frontal scenes in my day and I’ve never - not once - used a prosthetic. Nothing you haven’t seen before.” 

“Get dressed and go,” Quinn said. “Not telling you again.” 

Chris looked at you, his brows raised. 

“She’s in a mood,” you sighed. “You should probably go.” 

“Damn,” he said. “And I was hoping I could eat before I left town. And then I was going to take you to breakfast.” 

“Out!” Quinn barked and you laughed, falling back into the pile of pillows at the head of your bed. You lay there and watched as Chris got up and - naked - took his newly acquired Oscar from the bedside table while he gathered his clothes from the floor, stopping a little too close to Quinn on his way toward the door.

“Certainly hope the next time I see you it’s on slightly more agreeable terms,” he said, trophy not quite covering his manhood, before looking back to you. “Give me a ring next time you’re on my side of the pond?” 

“Same to you,” you smiled and watched him go, enjoying the view for a moment. He cut a nice figure, you’d give him that. 

Quinn had the courtesy to wait for the latch of the door to your suite to close before laying into you again. 

“What the fuck were you thinking?” She demanded. 

“Good morning to you, too,” you said, not sitting back up from your spot nestled in the pillows. “A ‘congratulations on winning your second Oscar before you turned 40’ would be nice, you know.” 

“You said you were going back to the hotel,” she continued like you’d said nothing at all. “I asked you about half a dozen times if, when we were leaving the Vanity Fair party, you were going back to the room and what was it you said exactly?” 

“I think I said something like ‘I’ve been up since six a.m., I’m about to pass out,’” you said. 

“Funny thing, I remember you saying that, too!” Quinn said, smacking the empty water bottle down on your nightstand. “And then what did you do?” 

“I passed out in the limo for a bit,” you said, defensive. 

“And then?” Quinn asked. 

“Well, then Chris wanted to go to another after party,” you shrugged. “So we did.” 

“You did,” she nodded. “Right, well…” 

She pulled her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans - that’s how you knew you were really in it with Quinn, you almost never saw her in jeans - and practically shoved it into your hands. On the screen was a photo of you from the night before, dancing on a tabletop in a dress that left nothing to the imagination - including what little there was under your short skirt. 

“Any reason you decided to do that?” She demanded before swiping - she’d apparently taken screenshots. “Or that?” 

The next photo was you in the same club, pressed against a wall, one leg hitched over the hip of the man in front of you, his face buried in your neck and your Oscar dangling from your grip. 

“If you were going to get fucked in public couldn’t it have at least been with the man you brought as your goddamn date?” She asked, brows raised. 

“We were just making out,” you waved her off. “And Chris is hardly territorial.”

“I’m not worried about Chris fucking Reese!” She snapped. 

“You should be,” you said. “He’s not bad in bed…” 

“Oh, I’m not going to make jokes with you about this right now,” she said. 

“Why not?” You asked, finally sitting up. “And it’s not a joke, there is a reason I keep hooking up with the guy…” 

“Because this shit is not a joke!” She snapped. 

“Isn’t it?” You asked. “Who gives a shit who I’m fucking and if I’m celebrating after winning a goddamn Oscar!” 

“The courts!” She said, her sharp tone making you fall silent. She pulled something else up on her phone. It was a email, sent just an hour and a half earlier by the attorney handling Ellie’s custody case. 

After the perfunctory greetings, the email got down to business: 

The judge overseeing Miss Williams’ custody case called me this morning, concerned that our client may not be fit to care for a child after seeing her behavior last night. I tried to assure her that this was out of character and a result of her Oscar win but she pointed to other recent incidents, saying this is becoming a pattern of behavior. 

Is our client willing to make significant lifestyle changes to accommodate caring for a child? If yes, the court needs demonstrated proof of these changes before they will consider proceeding with the adoption. If not, the court wants to pursue locating the child’s birth father and consider him for custody.

When looking for an alternative, is the girl’s grandmother an option? Please advise. 

“Oh fuck,” you breathed, your hand covering your mouth. 

“Oh fuck is right,” Quinn said, taking her phone back, calmer now. “You’re not some 21-year-old ingenue anymore, I can’t spin this as you sewing your wild oats, you’re 36 and you have fucking responsibilities, you can’t be acting like this anymore.” 

You nodded, tears stinging at your eyes. 

Quinn was right. The last time you’d done anything like this was after you’d left Henry, when you had this strange, hollow feeling in your chest that liked to stretch beyond the bounds of your ribs and consume everything. The only thing that seemed to fix it was when you were drunk, high or fucking someone so that’s what you did - and you did it a lot. You were all over the tabloids then, your half naked body plastered on magazines every other week. It was a blessing at the time - you weren’t able to find a job and being a trashed party girl kept your name in the press. You’d had to clean up your act when you got the job on Siren, both to meet the expectations set by the network and to just survive the filming schedule. It had been years since you’d done TV work but it was demanding and you respected the people who worked on the show too much to just fuck around and waste their time because you were hung over and hadn’t slept. Eventually, you opened up to Anna about everything with Henry and then she had Ellie and that hollow space filled with love and care for them, all the pain of losing your career and leaning what the only relationship you’d ever had really fading as time passed.

That hollow feeling had been at the edges of your mind when Anna died and returned in full force after everything a few months ago. The brush with death, sleeping with Joel only to have him cast you aside just hours later, the photos Henry leaked and the way the world devoured them. You’d never felt further from your own humanity than in that moment. It was like you were alien, in the same skin as everyone around you but somehow so far removed. You were so separate that you didn’t even feel like you were even attached to to your body. There was a small shock when you saw your own reflection, your own face so familiar but so foreign, an odd numbness to your limbs that made any small hurt so surprising that it took you a moment to realize what had happened. 

You hadn’t feel so distant from your own body when fucking Chris after the Golden Globes. He was a good enough lover, he wanted you to feel good, he asked permission before fucking you harder or folding you into a new position, he made sure you came before he did but you couldn’t really rest when it was over, staring up at the ceiling of his hotel room as he slept beside you the first time. 

“Can’t sleep, love?” He asked when he woke up in the middle of the night. 

“No,” you sighed, not looking at him. 

“Want a Xanny?” 

“Sure,” you shrugged. “Don’t know if it’ll help, though.” 

“Well,” he said. “What would help?” 

You took him up on the offer Xanax before the two of you went to the beach, his pockets full of little liquor bottles from the minibar in the suite. You were pleasantly loose when you got there and went running into the water in your pajamas before you thought any better of it. You left the wet pajamas on the beach without really thinking and the next thing you knew, you were at a restaurant in a t-shirt Chris stole from a souvenir shop and everyone on the planet saw it and the feeling of being back in your body again faded quickly. 

The numb void that was yourself was only tolerable for so long. You went to a club after shooting wrapped one day and danced with other famous faces, drinking too much and smoking even more until you wound up naked in the bed of some b-list actor who reminded you a little of Joel whose name you barely knew. 

The pictures showed up the next morning in the tabloids, shots of you dancing with random people at the club and slinking out past the line of paparazzi draped around the actor’s neck. There was a little tug in your stomach when you saw yourself, a stranger of sorts walking around inside your skin, like you had the idea to be embarrassed by it all but the feeling was to far away to touch. 

Even with that little inkling of shame, you just kept doing it. You couldn’t seem to help yourself. You were on set all day, went to the bar or the club half the night and fucked someone you hardly knew the other half before going back to set in the morning. You weren’t sleeping much but no one seemed to really mind, not as long as you could say your lines and perform your fight choreography. You didn’t really know how you were doing at the role - something falling away when you were in character so much that you barely even remembered being on set - but no one had pulled you aside to say you were doing a shit job so you just kept doing it all until you had a day off from filming and you slept until you were due at set again. 

You’d expected it to catch up with you eventually, either by passing out from exhaustion or getting hurt in a way that you could actually feel enough that it kept you from doing your job. You hadn’t expected it to manifest this way, the stupid byproduct of who you were making it so you couldn’t chase the feeling you were so desperate for without losing the only thing left in the world that mattered. 

“Are you going to get your shit together?” Quinn asked, her voice gentle now. “And stop doing whatever the fuck it is you’ve been doing the last few months? Because there’s only so much I can do here. I’ve already called in every damn favor I have with these tabloid assholes to keep it from being worse but I can’t stop it, not with Instagram and Twitter and TikTok out there, too. This is on you, you have to be the one to fix it.” 

“I can fix it,” you said quickly. “I… I won’t go out anymore, I won’t hook up with random guys anymore, I’ll get it together. Just… Please. I can’t lose Ellie, too. Please.” 

Quinn considered you for a moment.

“OK,” she said eventually, a sense of finality in her tone. She squeezed your hand. “It’s OK, we can fix this, do a redemption tour for you, something to help people see you in a more… maternal light. Chris has been around often enough, do you think he’d be interested in making things official? Just until things calm down a bit?” 

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. Your head hurt. You wanted a drink and to smoke some pot and take a Xanax. 

“He probably would but I don’t think he’s the best option,” you said eventually. Chris’ penchant for fucking anyone that was willing could only stay hidden for so long, same for his affection for drugs that were harder than what you indulged in and you didn’t want to ask him to sacrifice that part of his life for your PR tour. “But I can think of someone else.”

Quinn nodded and gave you a tight smile. 

“Don’t panic, OK?” She said. “We’re going to figure it out. I’m not going to let you lose Ellie. It’ll be OK.” 

You nodded, gathering the comforter tighter to your bare chest. 

“Get cleaned up,” she said, getting to her feet and shoving her hands in her pockets. “We can strategize, get a plan in place… We’ll figure it out. We always do.” She turned to leave before stopping in the doorway, looking back to you. “Congratulations on the Oscar. You deserve it.” 

You smiled, a little sadly, at her, the glint of gold on your nightstand flashing at you out of the corner of your eye. 

“Thanks.” 

You did as Quinn asked, popping a Xanax and texting Justice as you headed back to your place before spending the afternoon planning your image overhaul. You’d lay low for a few weeks, just shooting and going home, have a quiet dinner with Tanya so it didn’t look like you’d become a hermit. Then, once the news cycle was far beyond your recent antics, showcase your stability - pap walks going into Erewhon and leaving pilates classes, a trip with Ellie to Disneyland - before keeping things relatively quiet until the adoption was finalized. 

“It’s not a bad plan,” Quinn said, once everything was mapped out and she was heading back to her own house that evening. “I’d like if we had the romantic part of your life in there, too, but I’ll take what we can get. Now we just have to stick to it.” 

Once she was gone, you poured yourself a glass of wine and shouted to Seth that you were going to sit by the pool, not bothering to wait for his response or hope he would join you like you would have if Joel was still guarding you. 

Seth had been your primary protector for months now, just as long as Joel had been but it had still never settled in your mind that Joel wasn’t around. Not that you liked feeling that way because you didn’t. Not at all. 

You resented the fact that it felt like he was missing from your life and you resented how much it stung when you found out that he was protecting Ellie again. 

It had come up in passing on your daily FaceTime call with her weeks earlier, your niece just saying his name like it was nothing. 

“Wait, sorry,” you shook your head once. “Joel?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Ellie said. “Big Miller came back last week and I swear that asshole was practicing while he was on vacation or whatever, we played PvP and he fucking beat me!” 

Your heart clenched and you forced your face to stay steady. 

“Well,” you said. “Guess you’ll just have to try harder next time, kick his ass for me.” 

You should be happy that Joel came back to look after Ellie and part of you was. He was a good man and he was good at his job. He would keep her safe and it was good that she had some stability in her life, especially from a man. 

But Joel coming back for her proved that you were the problem. Not that you didn’t suspect that all along - you did - but some part of your subconscious had been pretending that it wasn’t just fucking you that had driven him away. Maybe it had been the entire job, maybe looking out for you and an teenager was too much for him to handle, maybe it was the fact that it had just been the same people for so long was what did it but no, it was you. Just you. 

It was always just you. 

You sat on the side of your pool, dangling your legs in the water and taking a deep breath as you took a sip of wine. You should have been happy in that moment. You had a plan to keep Ellie. You had a life you knew millions would fucking kill for. You’d won a goddamn Oscar just 24 hours earlier and yet there you were, alone and wanting things you couldn’t have. 

You took another sip of wine and were wondering if your new squeaky clean image meant you couldn’t get high at home when Justice called you on FaceTime.

“Hey beautiful,” he smiled. “Congratulations!”  

“About damn time,” you answered, smiling a little in return. 

“Such a gracious winner,” he teased and you rolled your eyes. “So… Looks like you had a good time last night.” 

“Yeah,” you winced. “That might be why I texted.” 

“Thought that might be the case,” he said. “Need some cover?” 

“Yeah, I think I do,” you said. “Ellie’s adoption isn’t final. And… I guess I fucked up enough that they might take her away.” 

“Shit,” he shook his head. “That’s fucked.” 

“Yeah,” you sighed. “Look… I know this is my problem, I’m the one who did stupid shit and it’s not your job to clean up my mess but…” 

“Hey,” he cut you off, his eyes and voice gentle. “I asked if you need some cover. Christ knows you’ve covered for me often enough.” 

“That’s different,” you said. “You didn’t do something stupid and expect me to patch it up, you’re just stuck navigating a homophobic world and I like being able to help…” 

“So let me help you,” he cut you off. “Besides, shit with Adam is…” 

He shook his head and look off to the side, frowning slightly, a pained look in his eyes. 

“Not great?” You asked. 

“You could say that,” he said wryly. “Don’t think I’ll have to worry about him bein’ all possessive much longer.” 

“Well, fuck ‘em,” you said. 

“Been doin’ that, hasn’t been helping much,” he gave you a little, cocky grin and you glared at him. “Sorry, sorry. It’s a good time for me to have a girlfriend is what I’m sayin’.”

“So you’re in?” You asked. 

“I’m in,” he replied. “We do a few months, get everything to quiet down for you and answer the question about why I haven’t been seen with a woman a while for me, then we go our separate ways for a bit.” 

“Thank you,” you said, relieved. 

“When you want to start?” He asked. “I got three shows in Vegas in a few weeks, want to come out, we do some fancy fuck dinners, you stand in VIP seating with a girlfriend, we make sure the paps catch us getting on the same jet on the way to LA the next day?” 

“Yeah,” you said. “That sounds good, just send me dates so I can make sure it doesn’t clash with shoot dates.” 

“Sure,” he said, nodding, his lips ever so slightly pursed. 

You frowned. 

“What.” 

“Nothin’,” he said. 

“Justice.”

“Just…” he sighed. “This shit ain’t like you, honey. I should’ve called sooner…” 

“You’ve been busy and I don’t need a babysitter,” you cut him off but he ignored you. 

“…And I’m worried,” he continued. “What’s been going on?” 

“Nothing,” you said. “I’ve just been… You know… Look, I’m single and while I’ve been in LA I don’t have any other responsibilities so I’ve just been… I don’t know, having fun with it.” 

“Right,” he said, skeptical. 

“I’m fine,” you said again, more forcefully this time. 

“It’s been a rough year,” he said. “S’OK if you’re not.” 

“Right,” you said. “But I’m fine. So.” 

He just looked at you for a moment before sighing.

“Well,” he smirked a little. “Can’t hide shit from me when we’re boyfriend and girlfriend now can ya?” 

“Jesus…” 

“Since we gotta be in love,” he teased. “Making out in front of paps and holdin’ hands all the damn time.” 

“Watch it,” you said. “I’m an actor, if you’re mean to me I’ll just convince the world you broke my heart when we break up and no one would ever forgive you.” 

He snorted. 

“You’d never do that,” he said. “Think I’m safe.” 

While pursuing a fake relationship had never been part of your job you particularly enjoyed, there was still a sense of calm that came over you after you got off the call with Justice. You were doing something, something that was tangible that had worked in the past to boost both of your standings in the industry. And it was hard to find a safer person to do this shit with than Justice, who had just as much to lose in this shit as you did. 

You tried to let that comfort you over the next few weeks as you stayed in and kept out of the spotlight. You followed the plan, going for a quiet dinner with Tanya where paparazzi shot photos of you through the restaurant windows as the two of you demurely sipped wine and split pizza and salad and a slice of cheesecake. You both kept your chins tucked low as you made your way back to your cars, cameras flashing like strobes, as though you were trying to hide from the photographers that your publicists had called. You went to the store and got conspicuous bags of produce and clutched a green smoothie on your way back to the car, paparazzi grabbing pictures the whole way. You wore your cutest matching set and the baseball cap Joel had given you when leaving pilates, flashes catching on the perfect sheen of sweat that coated your skin.

The reemergence was worse, in ways, than hiding away had been. You got in the habit of getting home from set and calling Ellie before popping a Xanax and smoking pot by the pool, often just falling asleep on a lounge chair without realizing it, the drugs helping you be less keenly aware of just how hollow and alone you were. When you had to be out in public, you couldn’t just completely shut down until you were floating inside your own skin, you had to be alert and alive and look like yourself. It turned into you taking the easily digestible version of yourself that you trotted out for red carpets and press tours and performing her while at the grocery store or at your exercise class and it was exhausting. You weren’t sure how much longer you were supposed to be able to do this, how much longer you could stand doing this. 

But it was for Ellie. You repeated that like a mantra. It would be worth it to get to keep Ellie. 

It was just before you were supposed to go to Vegas to start your new “relationship” with Justice that the next letter came. 

This one found you at work, as you were in makeup, staring into space as artists sculpted you into exactly what the director wanted you to be when a PA came in and said your name. It took you a second to react, the word sounding almost foreign on her tongue. 

“This came for you,” she said, handing you a nondescript envelope, the word “urgent” stamped in red ink on the front. 

“Huh,” you frowned, turning it over to open it. “Any idea what it is?” 

“No clue,” she shrugged. “I just got flagged down by one of the mailroom guys, told me to get it to you ASAP.” 

You slipped your finger below the seal of the envelope, tugging it open and not really paying attention to the paper you were pulling out, looking toward one of the makeup artists as she spoke but she stopped mid-sentence, gasping and dropping the brush in her hand to the ground with small clatter. 

“What?” You frowned as she covered her mouth with her now empty hand, eyes wide as she stared at the paper and you looked to see just what it was that had her so shaken. 

You gasped, too. It was a print out of a picture of you, leaving set one day. It was an area that no one should just have access to, you were clearly exhausted and weren’t pretending for anybody, just you and Seth walking toward a waiting SUV. 

Someone had written on the picture in large, ragged Sharpie, something threatening about the letters themselves. 

Have you missed me? 

Filming shut down for two days, studio security immediately launching an investigation into who had access to set the day the photo was taken. 

Which, you were sorry to say, was harder to narrow down than you realized. You were wearing yoga pants with a matching sports bra and an open linen button down shirt, baseball cap that Joel had given you tugged low on your head but that’s what you wore most days when you got out of costume. You only had so many of those matched sets and Seth’s wardrobe wasn’t much more varied than your own. After days of shooting being shut down but security not clearing you to continue, something had to give. 

“Hello, beautiful,” Leo, your agent, said when he showed up at your front door on day three of sitting on your ass and you thought you might lose your mind if you sat still any longer. He kissed you on both cheeks. “So good to see you again, I’ve missed you. You’re too far away in Texas.” 

“Thanks for coming all the way to the burbs,” you said, ignoring the way his hand lingered on your waist that always set your teeth a little on edge. “I tried to convince my security detail to let me leave the damn house but alas, here we are.” 

“Well, happy to do whatever’s necessary to keep you safe,” he said, following you inside. “Always willing to travel a little to see you in person. That includes to Texas, too, if you were wondering.” 

You laughed and offered him a cup of coffee and the two of you settled into the kitchen, Leo taking the chair closest to you instead of the one across from you - as he was in the habit of doing - rankling you more than it usually did. 

“So,” he said. “At this point, they’re talking about just pushing the shoot through the next week, just to be safe.” 

“Seriously?” You said, brows raised, getting more worked up than you were proud about. “This is such bullshit! It’s such a non-issue, this guy hasn’t come crawling out of the woodwork yet, he’s not going to start actually doing shit and now we’re screwing over how many people?” 

“Hey,” Leo put his hand on your knee and gave you a squeeze. “They just want to keep you safe and I think they’re right. Maybe you shouldn’t stay here anymore, maybe you should go somewhere he doesn’t expect you to be.” 

“Like where?” You asked, brows raised. “It’s not like I can go to Antarctica. I get a hotel, someone will notice me and share on Twitter. I get an AirBnB, someone in the neighborhood posts a photo on Instagram. There’s only so much I can do here.” 

“You could come stay with me,” he said, his hand still on your knee. 

You scoffed. 

“I’m serious,” he continued. “Come stay with me. I have plenty of room, no one would expect to find you there, I can have my assistant run errands for you, it will be perfectly safe.” 

“No thank you,” you laughed darkly. “It’s a nice offer but I’m not about to go into hiding because one asshole decided to be a little ballsy.” 

“Come on,” he said, something about his tone making your stomach tense. “I think we’d make great roommates.” 

“No thank you,” you said more sternly this time. 

“You have to think of what’s best for you,” he said like you hadn’t spoken at all. “This guy clearly means business and with the way you’ve been putting yourself out there lately…” 

You frowned, pulling back from him. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You snapped. 

“I mean,” Leo said, moving closer for you. “You’ve been letting anyone who asks close to you. Someone else has to look out for you if you’re not going to do it yourself.” 

“You’re my agent, not my publicist or my manager,” you said, voice cold. “It’s not your business who I let close to me.” 

“I think it is,” he said, leaning closer. His hand slid up your knee, inside your thigh. 

“Leo,” you warned. 

“Come on,” the hand not on your thigh went to the chair between your legs and yanked you forward, making you gasp. “You can’t pretend like there isn’t something here, not after working together for years. I know you, know your artistic spirit. You need me.” 

“I need an agent,” you said sharply. “That’s all.” 

“Come on,” he smiled, his whole face taking on a dark, lecherous quality that you didn’t remember it having before. “You can’t seriously be turning me down, not after everything, not after you’ve been fucking anyone who asks for the past few months.” 

“I’ve been fucking anyone I ask for the last few months,” you snapped. “Big fucking difference. Back off, Leo. Now.” 

He ignored you and kissed you instead. 

He tasted wrong, like coffee with a tinge of hard liquor and something sour that made your stomach turn and you shoved back from him, hard enough that it made you, Leo and your chairs topple to the floor with a crash. 

“Joel!” You shrieked the first name that came to mind, the first name that made you feel safe. Leo landed on top of you, his weight pinning you down. “Joel, help me!” 

Leo groaned, leveraging himself up from you and you scrambled back from him as Seth ran in, ripping Leo back and throwing him on the ground away from you. He punched him once, quick and sharp, enough to make sure he stayed down. 

“You OK?” Seth asked, his eyes raking over you and it took you a moment to stop remember why it wasn’t Joel who was standing there, protecting you. 

“Yeah,” you nodded quickly. “Yeah, I’m alright.” 

“Good,” he said. “I’ll be right back, I’m gonna haul this fucker outside and cuff him while we wait for the cops…” 

“No!” You said quickly and Seth turned to frown at you, his hands in fists at his sides. You took a breath, collecting yourself. “No, don’t… Don’t call the cops. I don’t need any more press that makes me look… just get him out of here? Please?” 

Seth stood there, panting for a moment, before giving you a stiff nod and hauling Leo to his feet, dragging him out of the room as Leo started trying to stammer some kind of explanation. 

You just sat up slowly, your head swimming. Your coffee cups were still sitting on the table, like nothing had happened at all. Tears stung at your eyes and even as Seth came back into the kitchen, kneeling beside you and looking you over, you felt more alone than you knew how to say. 

*** 

REUNITED! 

That’s what the headline said, sitting over a grainy picture of you with your arms around Justice James’ neck outside some restaurant in fucking Vegas. 

Oscar winner and country superstar heat up yet again

Joel stared at the photos of you in the VIP area of a concert, you walking hand in hand with Justice as the two of you made your way from the back of some sleek black SUV toward the airport to board some private jet. 

He should put the stupid fucking phone down. He knew that. This was just asking for pain but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. You were there, tantalizingly close. Just a taste of you, just to check in, that was all. 

The tabloid, thankfully, didn’t have much of anything recent to say. You apparently went to Vegas and laid low except to go to Justice’s shows and a few other outings. The two of you were seen at romantic dinner spots over the three nights he was performing there and you apparently flew to LA together when his stint in town was done. There were statements from both your representatives saying that the two of you were longtime friends who had always left your romantic entanglements on good terms and were happy to take your time exploring what was possible at this stage of your lives. An anonymous quote from someone “close to the couple” said they were certain the two of you were soulmates, the timing had just never been quite right but this time could be different. The rest of the piece delved into your shared romantic history, something Joel had been loosely aware of after meeting Justice at your house months earlier but reading it in such stark terms made his stomach twist. 

It seemed like the two of you couldn’t stay away from each other, falling back into a whirlwind romance every few years. Joel ground his teeth. He hated how real that seemed after seeing the two of you together, the way it wasn’t even a question that the man would share your bed when he came into town unannounced, like it was just what was expected when the two of you were in the same place. 

He tried to not let it bother him. In reality, you belonged with someone like Justice. He was rich, famous, women seemed to think he was good looking. He could travel the world with you, walk red carpets with you, buy you fancy fucking jewelry and take you to fancy fucking restaurants. You were from the same world. Joel just… wasn’t. 

He should be happy for you. He knew that and part of him was. He wanted you to be happy. You deserved some happiness and the irony wasn’t lost on him that, when he’d first met you, he probably would have resented you finding it. He hadn’t known better then but it didn’t matter. He’d still ended up in this pathetic place where he was sick with envy over a life that was closed him.

 He sighed, setting the phone face down on your kitchen table. 

Joel tried to look on the bright side. At least this had to be better than watching you fuck everyone in fucking Hollywood - though, when he thought about it, the last few weeks of almost total silence was worse. Until you started showing up in the most mundane places, it was like like you’d vanished from the face of the planet and he was the only person who gave a fuck.

He could only blame himself for the microcosm of misery in which he found himself. He woke up every morning and chose to search your goddamn name. It was the first thing he did, before checking his email or even sitting up in bed. He told himself it was because he needed to make sure you were safe, for professional reasons. Because if you were hurt or missing or dead, the news outlets would have it plastered everywhere. But that reasoning was bullshit, not even really disguised bullshit at that. 

First, Tommy would tell him if something happened to you. He’d called the first time you’d disappeared while with Seth, after all, and he was protecting Ellie now. He’d need to know immediately if something happened to you and so Tommy would call.

Second, he couldn’t hide from the real reason your name popped up every time he opened a browser tab on his phone. There was the part of himself that he could’t lie to, the part that was so desperate for any scrap of you that he’d destroy himself just to get it. 

Because it was destructive. Looking at the pictures and video of you all over other men at bars and clubs hurt with this deep and haunting ache. Seeing you dancing and drinking and smoking with a dead look in your eyes scared him. He knew you’d gone back to work but what if you weren’t OK after what happened? What if it was getting worse? What if you were hurting and dealing with it all alone? 

Making matters worse was the fact that he knew that Seth just didn’t watch you with the same obsession he had. It wasn’t that Seth was bad at his job. He wasn’t. Joel knew that. But he also knew that, if you were meeting with someone in your own home, he wouldn’t just leave you out of reach. Seth had. 

Joel only knew about that because he’d been in the office when Seth came back from California for a few weeks off, meeting with Tommy to debrief about his time out west. Joel made up an excuse to be there when Seth came in, some bullshit question he had for Marlene that, even if he did give a shit, could easily have been answered by email. 

He hovered outside Tommy’s office, watching and waiting for the meeting to end and then quickly trying to look busy when he caught signs of movement when Seth started opening the door. 

“Oh, shit, sorry man,” Seth laughed, seeing Joel hovering as he looked at his phone as though he’d been trying to kill time while waiting to talk to his brother. “Didn’t mean to hold things up.” 

“No, s’fine,” Joel waved him off, grip on his phone tightening. “How’re you?” 

“Glad to be back in fuckin’ Texas,” he said, laughing darkly. “Jesus, think you deserve a medal for putting up with all that Hollywood bullshit.” 

“Goin’ that well, huh?” Joel asked, desperate for any piece of news. 

“She’s fuckin’ exhausting,” he shook his head. “Swear to God she just don’t sleep half the time, out until three in the goddamn morning and then it’s not like she’s goin’ home. Thank fuck the set is closed and they’ve got good security otherwise I’d drop dead. She that bad when you were out that way before?” 

“Not… uh…” Joel clenched his jaw, flexed his hand. “No, it was pretty… pretty quiet. Besides… well, you know…” 

“Right, well,” Seth sighed. “Lucky you, I guess. Don’t envy Shiloh, poor fucker going in for me for the next two weeks. I’m gonna head home and sleep for a week if the wife’ll let me.” 

He turned to leave before seeming to remember something. 

“Hey, Joel?” He said. 

“Yeah?” 

“Know you were lookin’ out for her for a while and all,” Seth said, stepping closer to him again. “And it seemed like y’all clashed enough for a while but…” 

His voice trailed off. 

“What about it.” 

“You two end up close?” He asked. Joel stiffened and Seth seemed to notice, deflecting quickly. “Don’t mean nothin’ by it, I know you better than that, but if something you did helped keep her under control? Shit, man, I want to know how you did it.” 

“What makes you think we were close,” Joel asked, voice gruffer than he’d intended it to be. 

“Oh just,” Seth shrugged, suddenly seeming hesitant. “There was this moment, few days ago…” 

Joel was silent waiting for him to continue but he didn’t. 

“What. Moment.” 

Seth flinched. 

“Had that agent of hers come by the house,” he said. “Left them to talk about whatever it is Hollywood types talk about and the next thing I know she’s screaming the house down…” 

“What happened?” Joel demanded, the barely contained rage seeping into his voice as he moved toward Seth so suddenly that the other man stepped into the wall at his back. 

“The guy got fucking handsy!” Seth said, hands up, defensive. “Shocked the shit out of me, he was on the list of safe fuckin’ people! Had to pull him off her, throw him out of the house, she fired him…” 

“She OK?” Joel asked quickly, forcing himself to step back, his heart pounding. This hadn’t been in the news. 

Of course it hadn’t. 

“She seems fine,” Seth said before he sighed. “But… She must still trust you an awful lot because it wasn’t me she screamed for.” 

Joel’s blood ran cold. 

“She…” he couldn’t even say it. That you’d been alone, afraid, and called for him. Maybe he was doing this wrong, maybe he needed to be next to you. Even if you hated him, even if it destroyed him, maybe you needed him there. Maybe he was the only one who could be.

“I can’t seem to get her to trust me like that,” he said, relaxing away from the wall when Joel was silent for a moment too long. “She doesn’t tell me anything, she hides shit from me and I’m never sure if it’s just she’s feeling some type of way and doesn’t want to talk about it or if it’s something I actually need to fucking know. I like her when she’s not wearin’ me down but she makes this job damn near impossible. But you? You she must have liked. 

“I know the whole… incident was tough but… I dunno, man. Maybe talk to Tommy, see if you can get back on that job. Probably do you both some good.” 

Joel’s obsession with watching you from afar only got worse from there. He was desperate for every glimpse of you he could get, anything that let him see that you were OK when it seemed like so much pointed to you not being OK. 

This new relationship was a good sign, he tried to convince himself. You were with someone who obviously cared about you and who you cared about in return. So many people in your life were in your life because they had to be, they were dependent on you in some way. Justice was there because he wanted to be. You needed that. 

He tried to take solace in that. 

“Hey, Big Miller,” Ellie said, coming into the kitchen and plopping her backpack on the table with a little too much force, Esmo wrapping a breakfast sandwich in butcher paper and filling a to-go glass with orange juice for her to take in the car on the way to school. “Did you know I keep finishing off all the boxes of Lucky Charms in this house?” 

He took another sip of coffee before setting his mug down. 

“Do you?” He said, resisting the urge to smile. He could tell there was a stupid pun coming, he just knew it. 

“Yup,” she said seriously. “I’m a cereal killer.” 

“Jesus,” he shook his head, the edges of his mouth pulling up a little in spite of himself. “That’s bad.” 

“No, it’s awesome,” she said. “It works on so many levels!” 

“Your aunt does not even buy you Lucky Charms,” Esmo said, a hand on her popped hip. “So it does not even work on that level.” 

“Only because she doesn’t think I need that much sugar, which is bullshit by the way,” Ellie said. 

“She’s right,” Esmo said. “Eating a bowl of sugar first thing in the morning doesn’t do anything good and why would you want that, anyway?” 

“Because Lucky Charms are delicious,” Ellie said. “Duh.” 

“Alright, cereal killer,” Joel said, shoving back from the table and getting to his feet. “Time to get you to school, let’s go.” 

“Ugh,” she said cheerfully as she grabbed her bag and Esmo handed her the sandwich and the juice, giving her a quick kiss on the top of her head. 

“Thanks, Esmo!” Ellie called, already halfway out the door. 

“Have a good day,” Esmo yelled after her as Joel followed her to the truck, watching the open landscape around them until Ellie was safely loaded into her seat. 

“You study for that test today?” Joel asked. “That math stuff?” 

“Yup,” she said. “Grandma helped some, I think I’ll do good.” 

“Bet you will,” Joel said. “You’re smart.” 

“Thank you,” she sat up a little straighter. “It’s kind of bullshit how good you have to be at math to get to be an astronaut though.” 

“Well that’s what you get for wanting to do some smart person job,” he teased. “Instead of just giving up like the rest of us.” 

She snorted. 

“I guess if I bomb this test I could just become a singer like Justice,” she said. Joel’s stomach tightened at the man’s name. “Think Sissy’d let me?” 

“Somethin’ tells me she’d support you doing whatever your heart desired, kid,” he said and she beamed at that. “Though I think you could do somethin’ more with yourself than be some washed up country singer.” 

“You’re just jealous,” she rolled her eyes and he didn’t want to admit to how true that was. “You’re stuck here with me instead of playing stadiums in cool fucking places.” 

“Ain’t jealous,” he said instead. “Rather be doing this. Don’t got any desire to play bad music for a bunch of fools.” 

He pulled up to the school and Ellie smirked a little, shaking her head. 

“Got everything?” He asked. “Gym clothes? Homework?” 

“Yeah Dad,” she said it in a teasing, mocking way but it gutted him just the same. “Hey, can you show me some more guitar stuff later? There’s this one song I was trying to figure out…” 

“Sure, kiddo,” he said and she opened the door, jumping down from the truck with her backpack over one arm and it trailed behind her just like Sarah’s did when he dropped her off at school in this same truck and his ribs were so tight inside his skin he wanted to claw them out. “Whatever you want.” 

“Cool,” she smiled, going to slam the door behind her in that forceful, Ellie way of hers but something made her pause, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly as she cocked her head at him knowingly. She examined him like that for a moment and Joel’s jaw tightened. “Thanks, Joel. For everything.” 

“Yeah,” he grunted and she closed the door a little gentler than usual before running up the steps, the enamel pins catching the light as she did. 

Joel turned the radio off for the drive back to your house. 

What was he doing here with her? What was he doing, clinging to the memory of you? 

This was bad. Dangerous. There was a reason bodyguards weren’t even supposed to be friends with clients let alone be whatever this was with you and Ellie. He couldn’t be objective when it came to you, he couldn’t keep his guard up the way he should when he was distracted by you, it wasn’t safe for you. It wasn’t safe for either of you.

It also wasn’t safe for him. He knew what losing you or Ellie would do to him now. He’d lived it before, he wouldn’t survive it again.

But he also knew he couldn’t step away now, not fully. Ellie needed him. She had already been through so much, her life full of loss and, for whatever reason, she cared about him. 

More than that, he liked that she needed him. He liked that she looked at him and saw someone who was worth giving a shit about, someone she wanted to play her video games with and who she wanted to teach her guitar. She talked with him about school and her friends and how she felt about you and he’d grown to love that. He’d grown to love her. 

He wasn’t entirely sure when it happened - a while ago, if he had to guess - but he loved her. He didn’t think he could leave her now even if he wanted to. 

Even if it was the right choice. 

So that night, after he’d helped her with guitar and Elise had reviewed her homework, he sat in the kitchen drinking coffee he knew would just keep him up half the night, eavesdropping on your nightly FaceTime call with Ellie and his heart sank when he heard her giddy shriek. 

“You’re actually coming back for a few weeks?” Ellie said. “Seriously?” 

“Seriously,” you laughed a little. “Think that’s OK? We can do the space center finally, maybe go to Six Flags. What do you think?” 

“Fuck yeah!” Ellie said. “Ugh, I’ve missed you. Grandma’s cool and all but it’s not the same.” 

“I know, I’m excited, too,” you said. You sounded excited. Joel hoped it was real. “I’ve missed you too, kiddo. So, so much.” 

Joel’s stomach sank and he pinched the bridge of his nose a little too hard. 

You were coming back. He was going to have to leave Ellie, at least for a little while, otherwise he’d end up in this so deep he’d never make it out again. He’d managed to extract himself from you and it needed to stay that way. 

That was the best thing to do, he thought, for everyone. 

He wondered when he’d become such a bad damn liar.

A/N: What's that? Joel and Siren are about to be back in the same place?? Oh noooooooo I wonder what will happen then?? 🫣

Taglist: @christinamadsen @eff4freddie @brittmb115 @copperhalfcent @r3dheadedwitch @pedropascalsbbg @lovelyjess69 @yopossum @moel-jiller @picketniffler @lilyevanstan1325 @reluctanthalfwayoptimism @wintersquirrel @missladym1981 @mellymbee @canthinkof1user @inept-the-magnificent @secretlyangelic @pedrobae @scarletsloveletter @phry-k @sunnytuliptime @mistresssolana @joelmillerpascal @hoddystark @b3l1nd5 @7lilacshadows

[vineofwar]

Spotlights and Silences (Part 2-ish of Dresses and Disguises)- paigebueckers x fem!reader

summary: after weeks of silence following the moment you shared in the dressing room, you show up to Paige’s WNBA draft after party... wearing that dress.

warnings: angst, slow-burn, mutual pining, kinda lore accurate, (somehow) not proofread

word count: ~2.2k

a/n: sorry it took me so long but here she is!

You did an impeccable job of avoiding Paige after that day. 

Forgetting about it– her, was something else entirely.

The end of the semester was coming up sooner than you expected, with exams, projects, and prepping for your goodbyes. Meanwhile, March Madness was ramping up for Paige. She was everywhere. 

There wasn’t an app you could open, a TV you could watch, even a person you could talk to without being reminded of her. Interviews. Highlight reels. Stats. Predictions. WNBA draft projections. You tried to scroll past, turn off, and disengage, but it was no use. You were overdosing on her. 

But there was simply no way of avoiding her as the championship game rolled around. Besides, your best friends were playing, and you wanted to support them. Or at least that’s what you told yourself… Sitting on the living room floor, 30 minutes before tip-off, wearing a worn-out #5 jersey. Burning with anticipation.

Paige, on the other hand, could not get enough of you. It was like you completely disappeared from her life, overnight. And no amount of flashing lights, confetti, or stadiums full of fans could shake that gnawing feeling. She needed a fix– of you. 

But that didn’t stop her from winning the national title.

Paige played like something was burning beneath her skin– a fiery determination. When the buzzer sounded and the confetti rained down, Paige let it in. The noise, the celebration, the joy. She let herself feel it– the emotions, good or bad. Something that she wasn’t used to. She let herself be present in something she didn’t have to question. Something that didn’t ache. 

There was nothing else you could feel in that moment besides pride. A breathtaking sort of pride bloomed in your chest when you saw her lift the trophy high above her head, eyes glistening under the stadium lights.

You facetimed Azzi and some of the team shortly after.

“National champions! I have never been happier for you guys!” You beamed as they showed off their piece of the cut net, screenshotting a moment and sending it off to your Instagram story. 

“Where’s the trophy? Let me see it!” 

“Uh- It’s with Paige and coach, actually,” Azzi said, trying to sound too casual as she flipped the camera back around to herself. “You know. Press stuff.” 

“Ah, right. Well, send me a photo.” You changed the subject before anyone else could say a thing. “Go out and enjoy the rest of this win okay? Tell… everyone, I say congratulations.”

Azzi just nodded her head before you said goodbye.

The championship high hadn’t begun to fade before Paige was thrown into the spotlight again. She was hours away from her life changing all over again. Not even a second of turnaround, a second for her to catch her breath, before she was on another flight, sitting in another hotel, doing another round of interviews with questions she’d already answered a hundred times. The draft.

She’d foolishly thought that tonight would bring you out. More than the championship game did. She heard your congrats through Azzi. She saw the blurry photo you posted on your Instagram story, captioned: 'proud of my girls <3.’ It was the most that she's gotten from you in weeks. She thought of liking the story– her finger hovering over the heart at the bottom of the screen– but she thought better of it and kept tapping through instead. 

Another moment. Missed.

The lights were hot and brighter than she expected, but Paige never faltered. She was good at this part– the public part. The polished part. Calm, cool, confident. She stepped onto the red carpet and the crowd erupted. A wave of noise and flashing lights crashed over her. Cameras snapped in rapid fire, as if the world might blink and miss her. Her name echoed relentlessly from every direction with a particular urgency, like everyone already knew they were staring at the number one overall draft pick.

Paige was buzzing beneath the surface, beneath the perfectly packaged smile, eyeliner, and black sequin suit. Buzzing with something hard to name– something lonely. Far from nerves or excitement.

She never used to imagine being with you, because you were always there—or you used to be. But now she caught herself lost in thought, picturing you on her arm as you walked down the row of flashing cameras and back-to-back interviews, showing you off, sporting that sweet, shy smile you saved for her. Your eyes meeting like there wasn’t anything to question, like none of it intimidated you. You whispering something in her ear, like “I hope you’ve practiced your autograph” in the quiet moments, cutting through any sort of nerves that started to rise. Your hand finding hers under the table, fingers laced—anchoring her.

She imagined her name being called and the thing she’d be most excited for, something she was dying to do– to kiss you. There. In front of everyone. Like she wasn’t scared of it all.

The buzzing was so loud now that she barely heard her actual name being called.

“In the 2025 WNBA draft,” The voice sounded far away. “The Dallas Wings select,” And fully trailed off, swallowed by the roar of the crowd and the rush in her ears.

It wasn’t till Azzi nudged her arm that she registered the words.

“Paige Buekers.”

Now, standing on stage, the crowd, white jersey in hand, her future ahead of her, she wasn't thinking about the win, her team, or her new contract– she was thinking about you.

This was the part she hadn’t prepared for– that success would taste just a little sour when you weren’t there to share it with her. All her hard work and dedication finally paying off, and… it didn’t feel right. 

She knew what the fame and adoration felt like. The quick fire photos, the headlines, the glory. It all felt shallow. She craved your quiet devotion. 

In any capacity. You both needed to be with each other again.

And that’s precisely why you were in New York, in Kk’s hotel room, applying a red glossy lipstick in the bathroom mirror. 

Initially, you weren't planning on coming– even with the growing, insatiable need to see Paige in person again. You were used to that by now. The wanting. And for the last few weeks, you had become better at managing it. But it wasn’t until Kk, Sarah, Azzi- practically half of the damn UConn women’s basketball team, nearly on their hands and knees, begging you to come celebrate with them, that you even entertained the thought of being at the draft after party.

You realized somewhere along the line that you were being a bad friend. Especially to Paige.

Regardless of the complications– of your feelings, Paige was someone you cared for. Deeply. You acknowledged in your complete avoidance, that you claimed was self-preservation, was really a cover. Cowardice. And in that, you were abandoning the only thing you knew you were to each other. Friends. Even if it was hard to admit because you wanted more, you were always, at the very least, going to want to be friends with Paige. 

And friends support each other. Especially when they are the number one overall WNBA draft pick.

You waited to get dressed till Kk told you the ceremony was over, sending you the location for the after party. 

You eyed the familiar black sparkling dress, laying on the contrasting white bed sheet. It felt like the knife was being twisted as you stepped in and slipped the fabric up your body. It clung to your frame like a second skin, like memory.

And suddenly, your willpower was starting to chip away. Each step you took towards the venue was another piece flaking off, and by the time you crossed the threshold of the party, you were one gust of wind from falling apart.

You, thankfully, immediately spot Nika and some of your friends before you could change your mind and turn around and walk out the door.

“I have no idea where Azzi  went, last time I saw Kk and Sarah they were with Paige somewhere.” She pauses. “I don’t think anyone told her you were coming,” Your heart sank. The last thing you wanted to do was ambush her. 

“Shes barely had time to talk to us, I’d catch her as fast as you can to say hey.” She tried to sound as relaxed as one could, tipsy and shouting over music. “Then we can take shots!” She adds, clearly picking up on the uneasy look on your face. “Matter of fact, I’ll go get some right now!�� She was gone, disappeared through a crowd before you could even object.

But she was right, you wanted to get it over with and then just enjoy yourself. You wanted closure.

There wasn’t a moment for Paige to stop- to slow down. She smiled until her jaw ached, shifting from handshakes to hugs, and from congratulations to thank-you’s. Her name echoed off the walls. She was being pulled in every direction without a moment to take it all in. 

Until she saw a familiar shimmer from the corner of her eye. She jerked her head and froze. Her gaze fell on you, clinging to a quiet corner of the room, wearing that dress. 

She blinked, hard, thinking that maybe the champagne was getting to her, like she'd open her eyes and you would be gone. Vanish, again, into thin air, and she’d be without you. 

She drifted through the room, not knowing her next move, just felt her chest pull towards you like a magnet she had been resisting for too long. 

And when your eyes finally met, neither of you looked away.

You froze when you saw her in that black, sparkling suit. You hadn’t realized it was the perfect, almost matching counterpart to your dress. 

You watched the gold lights perfectly bounce off her blond waves, the way her black eyeliner brought out her blue eyes. You were scared that if you even flinched, your heart would take over and you’d hug and tackle her to the ground.

Now there she was. Two feet away from you. After weeks, that felt like months, of no contact. And now there you were, entirely undone in front of her once again. 

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

And just like that, Paige lost the upper hand. Her cards were showing. But she finally didn’t care. She wanted you to know she was thinking about you. How she already accepted that you weren’t going to be here. How she was not coping with it well. How relieved, and scared, she was that you were within arm's length of her.

How just 5 words could mean so much without having to admit what she was really feeling. A game of how truthful she can be without just saying it.

“I almost didn’t.” You admitted back. 

She wanted to ask why you changed your mind, but the lump in her throat was making it hard to speak at all.

Then that all too familiar silence stretched between you like it always did. Taunting you. 

She glanced at your dress again. Your stomach was doing flips.

“You wore it.” Paige says, gesturing to you. What she meant to say was, ‘I remember the last time you wore that dress.’

“Yeah,” It came out breathy and uneasy. “Well, it fits better to wear at a party. Definitely not a graduation.” Your lips slightly turn up at the edges in a cautious smile. 

A smirk appeared on her face as she shook her head. 

“Honestly, I still kind of hate it.”

“I don’t.”

Paige saw the moment your breath hitched in your lungs. It set her skin on fire.

The way you looked at her was dangerous. You had to remind yourself why you were there. To support your friend.

“Well. Congratulations, Paige.”

Hearing her name from your mouth again felt like a jolt of lightning. A shiver went down her spine.

“You deserve all this. I’m proud of you.”

That is when it all sunk in. The whirlwind of the past few days finally caught up to her and hit her right in the gut. But she didn’t care about that right now.

Paige’s lips parted as her eyes drifted to yours. 

The space between you began to shrink. You didn’t even realize it till you felt the warmth of her body and the sweet, musky scent of her perfume. 

You held your breath as her hands slid their way onto your hips, pulling you closer. 

“I missed you.” Page said, more like an admission. You watch something shift behind her eyes, like relief.

“I missed you too.” You replied with ease.

The first thing you’ve said to her in months that didn’t feel like a roundabout truth.

You leaned in slowly- still somewhat scared that this was one of your daydreams- hesitating, giving her a chance to back away. But she didn’t. She closed what little space there was left and kissed you. Tentative at first, but then more sure as you melted into each other. 

Paige slid her hand up your lower back to your shoulder, then to your neck and stopped at your jaw, cupping it. Like she needed to make sure you were real. Like this was finally happening. 

And just like that, the noise of the party faded, the lights dulled, and all that existed was the way her mouth moved against yours— easy, effortless, and too soft for something that had burned for so long.

Like an exhale.

a/n: wow. let me know if you liked it! i kind of hate it!

[detectivestucks2]

Mean, Rich, & Mine Pt. 8

18+ content, Minors do NOT interact

Pairing: Frat Boy Sukuna x F!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, oral female receiving

Summary: The drive home forces you to confront Sukuna's recent actions. You've been thinking about them a lot, especially when he makes a proposition.

Art Credit: @innaillus

Word Count: 3.1 k

Chapter 7 I Chapter 9

The drive to your place is quiet. You drum your fingers against your thigh, mind swimming with thought. Your insides tug at each other mulling over recent events. He’s stood up for you, apologized to you, claimed and pleasured you. So many things about his recent behavior point towards a genuine change.

But why would Sukuna find you special? The man with infinite options, hyperfixated on a scholarship girl. The doubt in your mind won’t quiet. He doesn’t care about others. He likes a good time and a good game. Your resistance to him has probably created his most intriguing challenge yet. That’s why he seems to care so much, right? But then why choose the word wife? Why knock out four men to protect you? And why do his kisses feel so… divine? 

Sukuna’s hand finds its way to your upper thigh, resting its weight and gripping your skin. He means it when he says he’s claimed you, it’s just so hard to envision him settling down. Yet here you are, in his car, being touched with care. 

He shifts the gear into park and rounds to the other side to open your door. Like a proper gentleman, he escorts you to your front door and guards you as you dig for your keys. 

“I want more.” He blurts out into the silence. 

You pause, your hand still in your backpack. “What do you mean more? You were literally eating me out minutes ago. We kiss all the time and I’d say most of our encounters are rather graphic these days. What more could there possibly be?”

“Date me.”

“You want us to date? Like be exclusive? Together?”

“It seems my claim is meaningless if we’re not dating. It was brought up by my brothers several times this week.”

Your chest deflates. “That’s not a good enough reason to date someone.”

“Tell me, what’s a good enough reason?”

“I don’t know, wanting commitment, a future. Having genuine feelings for the person. Take your pick.”

He looks down, considering his words. You finally find your key and slot it into your lock, frustration mounting with his silence. Earlier he had said “future wife.” Why is it suddenly so hard for him to express how he feels? And why does it bother you so much? You hear the familiar click of your deadbolt turning but when you push the door sticks. You begin hip checking the it as you continue. “You know, the fact that you have to think so hard about this is exactly why we shouldn’t date.”

Sukuna rests his palm against the door and pushes it open, a grim look on his face. “Would you please let me upgrade your housing?”

“No” you scold defiantly pushing past him. 

“I don’t like that you live here. “

“And I don’t like that you can’t express your feelings.”

“When did I say that I have feelings?”

“Exactly my point! You didn’t. I assume you do, though, considering the jealousy, the protectiveness, tonight’s surprise, and the fact that you called me your future wife earlier. But because you won’t admit to it, even when trying to ask me to date you… it shows why I shouldn’t. I don’t want to hand my life over to someone who can’t recognize basic emotions.”

“I can recognize basic human emotions.” His eyes narrow at you. 

“Then explain to me why you want to date me and why I should say yes.”

There’s fight in his red eyes. He’s feeling defensive and rebellious but he also wants to win. He wants you to surrender and be his. He wants you to stop fighting his claim.

He marches up to you, to which you back away. He paces you all the way to your kitchen. “Why’re you running C?”

“Cause you’re trying to mow me over.” 

Your rear hits the counter’s edge, causing your body to jolt. No quicker has your flesh met the particle board top than Sukuna’s hand has trapped your jaw in its grasp. “We should date because I am obsessed with you, Char. I think about you constantly. I worry about you constantly. I yearn for you constantly. Never in my life have I been so possessed by need for someone. You have toppled my world, C. I want you, and I know you want me. Being together is inevitable. Just admit it.”

Your breath comes in shallow gasps, your lungs unable to function properly with him so close to you. He changes his grip on your face, opting to lift your chin with his knuckle while his thumb brushes your lower lip. He looks at you transfixed before closing in on your mouth, his lips taking yours yet again. 

Every time you go through this, his kiss fogs your mind with insatiable lust. He just spent hours torturing you this evening and still, he requires more of you. Lips on his, you try to imagine what this would look like if it were real. You picture it to look a lot like it does now. “Please, Char, I need more,” he pleads against your cheek.

You softly moan, spurring his hands to grab your legs and lift you onto the countertop where he settles between your legs, continuing to rub his pelvis against your center through those soaked panties that you desperately need to change. Your fingers dig into his shirt, pulling him closer. You want him, you really do. He turns reality on its head; it becomes something you don’t recognize. This man, who grew up worlds apart from you, wants to drag you into his version of this life, one full of wealth, status, and power. It’s hard to wrap your mind around, but since when can you wrap your mind around anything while he poisons your cognition with his kisses?

Small pants come from your mouth as the desire for him takes root in your gut. You feel your organs squeeze with want, your hands fisting his shirt and pinning him to your front while his arms cage you in. 

He groans before he pulls away, a string of spit thinning before it breaks apart and falls between you. “I need an answer, C.”

You pause, looking at the tattoos that run under the collar of Sukuna’s v-neck shirt. With a thick swallow, you muster the courage to admit your response, “okay.” 

“Okay?”

“One date. I’ll go on one date with you, and after that I’ll see how I feel.”

“It’ll be more than one date.”

You shake your head before leaning it against his broad chest. He holds you, resting his cheek on your hair, a rare moment of quiet existing between you. 

The shop bell rings as Sukuna’s massive body passes over the threshold. Two anxious saleswomen perk up ready to earn their commission as he pulls off his sunglasses and places them in the breast pocket of his shirt.

“Good afternoon, sir, how can we assist you?”

“Afternoon, ladies. I’m looking for assistance with some items for a date.” It’s Thursday, and Sukuna made the drive over to the shop that outfitted you the week prior as soon as his classes were finished. His excitement for your date is hard to suppress; his mind constantly wanders to planning, and it won’t quit till all the details are in place. 

“Oh? Well we have a new collection of suits that just came in last week. Would you like us to take some measurements?”

“Actually I am looking to purchase something for her. I believe you should already have her measurements on file.”

“I see. What’s the name?”

“Ch-”

“Wait! Extremely tall, muscular, and tatted. What do you think, Mae?”

“Oh you’re right Sherry! Yes, we have her measurements on file. What can we get for you?”

Sukuna smirks as he digs into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He opens the web browser and points to his screen. I was thinking something like this.”

“My oh my, you sure you don’t want a wedding dress to go with that lingerie?” Mae says with a wink to Sherry. 

“Not yet, but soon.” he smiles.

The two girls look at the image of the strappy bodysuit knowing exactly how he’s going to convince you. “Maybe instead of a wedding dress you’d like to purchase a different dress that allows this purchase to poke out in a classy way.”

Sukuna’s intimidating gaze locks with Mae, a calculated grin growing on his face. “What’d you got?”

Her face rockets from intimidation to joy. After a quick clap of her hands, she strides over to a section with business attire and cocktail dresses. She starts leafing through a series of satin gowns, thumbing through various colors, blush pink, baby blue, maroon, and black. She pauses on the black but then grabs the maroon off the rack instead. “This one will go nicely with her skin tone and will blend with the black bodysuit.”

“You have good taste.”

“They wouldn’t have hired me if I didn’t.”

Sukuna admires the dress. The sheen of the satin is so glossy it almost looks like liquid metal. The neckline is a wide cowl that dips low enough to show off the straps around the bosom of the bodysuit, and the fit is narrow around the waist but flares out at the hips, with a hem that ends mid-thigh. This will be perfect for toying with you. He can see it now. “Add it to my tab.”

“Yes, sir.” Sherry says as she heads over to the store computer. 

“Do you have a pair of Louis Vuitton’s in this color?”

“We don’t but we have the Gala Pump in black. That will accent with the black of the lingerie.”

“Add those too.”

“You got it.”

“If this is what you’re spending on her outfit, I’m afraid to know how much you’re spending on the date.”

“A lot.” Sukuna says with a straight face, his mind running through his plans. “She won’t be able to deny me after tomorrow. She will be mine.”

“Hear that Sherry? She won’t be able to deny him.” Mae whispers. 

“I bet she’s still insisting they’re lab partners.” Sherry whispers back.

“She is.” Sukuna chimes in. 

Both ladies' backs straighten, feeling embarrassed that he overheard their quiet remarks. “Why do you think that is?”

“She thinks it’s part of an elaborate joke. At least that’s what I assume.”

“Why would she think that?”

“Cause I’ve done some stupid stunts in the past.”

“Pulling pigtails is biting you in the butt, hmm?”

With one sharp look from Sukuna, Sherry shuts her mouth.

“Well I hope this date convinces her.” Mae says kindly. “We’re rooting for you two. Have been since she stepped into our shop last week.”

 The resolute look on his features says it all. He will not accept any other outcome. Tomorrow night, you will become his girlfriend. He’s certain you’ll bend. Especially after the way he’s touched you this week. You’re like putty, always doing what he says like a good girl. During lab tomorrow morning, he’ll behave, only so his tactics in the evening will be more effective. Then, by the time Monday lab rolls around, you’ll be his.  

Mae hands Sukuna the three boxes containing his purchases and wishes him luck. He thanks them both before he places the boxes on the passenger seat and drives off to the frat house. 

“Morning, Princess,” Sukuna says as he sits down on the stool next to you. Instantly, you feel a flush burn your cheeks as the semiweekly lab partner torture begins. Every Monday and Friday, it’s the same song and dance; however, this time you’ve agreed to go to dinner with him. You’ve caved and, against your better judgement, you’re going out with Ryomen Sukuna. If you’re being honest, you’re more scared than you are excited. You want to believe him. You want to think he’s changed and he’s serious about ‘his claim.’ He’s convincing enough. Especially when you think back to how he saved you at work or how he knocked out his own frat brother. But the pit in your stomach tells you it’s another stripper situation. He’s going to have you dressed up and then leave you on some street corner to make you look like a hooker. 

“Good morning, Sukuna.” you say, intentionally using the wrong part of his name.

“Ryomen.” he corrects

“So I have to call you by your preferred name but you won’t call me by mine?”

“Yes.”

You huff in disbelief. The arrogance of this man. “Fine, Ryomen. Tell me, how should I dress for our date tonight?”

“Don’t worry, baby, I have it taken care of.”

“Taken care of?” he nods and your stomach sinks further, “How much did you spend?”

“Don’t worry about it. Just know that you’ll love what I picked out.”

“You mean you’ll love it.”

“Well I did pay for it. Of course I was gonna get you what I wanted you to wear.”

“You can’t keep spending money on me like this. It hasn’t even been a week since your last-”

“Donation?”

“Sukuna, please!”

“Ryomen.”

“If you want me to call you Ryomen, then stop acting like Sukuna and start acting like Ryo.”

He hums at his nickname, loving the sound from your lips. “Fine, how exactly do you want me to act?”

“Stop making jokes about me being poor. It makes me feel like this date is a set up and it makes me not want to go.”

Sukuna’s pulse pauses. Backing out is not an option. “You are going on this date, Princess. You agreed to it.”

His growl sends shivers down your spine, arms pebbling with fear. “I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to, Sukuna.”

You say it quietly, eyes downcast but the statement still stings. He grabs your wrist. “Look at me.” Your focus remains on the lab table. “Look at me dammit.” Reluctantly you meet his gaze, eyes glassy. “This isn’t a joke, Char. You’re mine. I’ve never been more sure of anything. Let me prove it to you.”

You study his face. He features genuine; you can’t detect the lie. It doesn’t completely erase the worry but eases it enough that you’re willing to go. “Okay.” is all you whisper back.

His hand releases you but begins to wander to your shoulders and back, rubbing circles as he goes. The gentle touch helps you nudge back into your comfort zone, and soon you find yourself leaning into him while the TA speaks. His arm finds purchase around your waist while he leans his cheek against his propped-up fist. You look and feel like a real couple as you sit there. Is this what he’s looking for? These little moments where you fit together like two puzzle pieces? Or is this a phase? Hopefully, you’ll know more after tonight because these twisting thoughts have exhausted you.

During today’s synthesis, you find your hands brushing against each other, like always, but this time there’s more electricity there. There are small pauses where you look at each other as if it’s for the first time. Even when cleaning up, something about it feels domestic. This is not the same lab partner you’ve had this semester. This is a new man. 

After the bell rings, Sukuna sweeps you to the stairwell. “Ryo, why are we headed here? Please don’t let it be another remote control vibrator.”

His giant hands grab your waist and push you against the wall. “I need another taste.”

“What?”

You ask but no explanation comes. He can’t help himself with you. He was trying so hard not to play any games but feeling your warm body against his drove him mad all class. He needs you on his tongue. Aggressively he sucks and bites your lips, pulling back till the flesh slips from between his teeth. “Stand on the stairs and face away from me.” 

“Ryo-”

“Now.” The protest dies on your tongue and you comply. “Pull down your pants.”

“Ryo!”

“I don’t have a lot of time till my next class, please Char, just do it.”

Hesitantly you undo the button of your wide-legged jeans before dropping them to your thighs, nervous that someone will see. Before you have a chance to stand back up, Sukuna’s kneels behind you. His hand yanks your underwear to the side while his face buries itself between your legs, pushing you down so that you’re catching yourself with your hands on the stairs.

Satisfied groans fill the stairwell, his happy noises echoing like a sexual foghorn that’s sure to get you caught. Despite yourself, your gasps of pleasure join the melody, only increasing the risk of someone coming to investigate. But how can you resist with the way his greedy mouth feasts on you? He has your hips pushing back into his face, begging for more. When his tongue dives into your hole you lose your breath and when the pink muscle makes its way to your rear a high pitched moan sings the chorus of your filthy anthem. 

After a few frenzied minutes, you finally gasp out that you both need to get to class. His massive hands, which have been gripping your thighs, tighten their hold before releasing you. Left dizzy, you collapse to your hands and knees as he wipes his mouth with his forearm. It takes a few steadying breaths before you can resume standing and pull your bottoms up before some unknowing witness makes their way to the stairs. 

You don’t even finish fastening your jeans when Sukuna pulls you into another kiss. His searing passion spills into the connection. This one, however, tastes like the sweet tang of your arousal that was just sucked out of your folds. His tongue playfully slips into your mouth where his flavor mingles with yours before he pulls back again, leaving you winded.

“Thank you, baby. I needed that.”

“Mhm” is all you have capacity to respond with as you blink back at him dumbly.

“I’ll see you at your place. 7:00pm”

“Sure.”

He spanks your ass, groping it before kissing your cheek and guiding you down the steps towards the first floor. When you’re downstairs, he kisses your cheek again before heading towards the psychology building, leaving you to walk towards the math building in a daze. Tonight you’re going on a date with Sukuna. Ryomen Sukuna is taking you on a date. A date, tonight, with Ryomen… and he purchased your outfit. It must be fancy if he thinks you don’t have the right clothes for it. Or he wants you in something extremely slutty... You’ll have a say if you don’t want to wear the clothes he brings, right? Knowing Sukuna, probably not.

Masterlist I Chapter 7 I Chapter 9

@emoedgylord

[chlauraform]

heres a topic i probably should have talked about during pride month, (that just ended) but hey i just started actually using this account for something, and that would be:

the notion that lgbtqia+ discrimination doesnt exist unless there are laws that actually put people like us in jail or actually kill us.

for some context, i am a transfem lesbian, i live in croatia. small country, i know. we're an EU country, hence our laws should not be discriminatory (de jure, cause hungary and the plans to stop the pride march this year, but okayyy...) as that is one of the key requirements for entry. over here, gay marriage isnt considered marriage, but its held to the same status of a heterosexual marriage, just with a different name. we are recognized by our judicial system and aren't necessarily persecuted by the government.

this is something that im personally very, very aware of, considering my own mother uses these talking points to justify why "all this pride stuff is not necessary" and "they arent discriminated" whenever i would have the audacity to speak out about something that wasnt right (for the record, im not out to her and considering how she is, i feel like it will stay like that until im certain i have a place to move to)

my country is very socially behind in a lot of things. from the huge influence of religion on our people but also politics, considering the ruling party for almost all thirty years of modern croatias existance was ruled by the same demochristian party. the people dwell on history, on tradition and on who did us wrong in the past which i feel is a very big reason why there is not much progress and increase in any kind of social acceptence for people like me. our population is old-fashioned, stuck in the past.

older generations despise us because we arent "correct", they teach their children to do the same. thats why, over here, you dont see many people of my age be supportive of gender or sexuality that isnt cis and heterosexual. there is no worry about gen z becoming more hateful or more closed-minded, because there has barely been any kind of step forward in the first place. and i feel immense concern for all lgbtqia+ youth in my country. i am one and i know how it is to feel like your own people will throw you away like youre trash simply for being yourself, especially when those people are sometimes your actual peers, teenagers just like you.

of course, were all still here, we are gonna be here and we will make it. step by step, definently. maybe it will take a million steps, maybe even more, but maybe even less. time will tell, but time will not take us away any time soon.

holy moly thats lots of text

but im glad i have a place to write this stuff

[jokeroutsubs]

📝ENG Translation: Nace Always Loves Coming Back to Kranj

An interview with Kris and Nace for Gorenjski Glas, written by Alenka Brun, originally published on 01.07.2025

English translation by @kurooscoffee, review by a member of JokerOutSubs, proofread by IG GBoleyn123.

Article below the cut!

At the end of May, Joker Out released a music video for their new song Muzika za decu. The song is also featured on their third studio album Souvenir Pop, which was released just before the start of this year’s summer concert season as a vinyl, an LP-format album. This Friday, the band is coming to Kranj.

'Muzika za decu' is the first track on Joker Out’s current album. It regularly stirs up euphoria amongst audiences at concerts, and its visual presentation is infused with retro aesthetics, a rebellious undertone, and with the beloved band’s authentic energy. The video was filmed in Trieste, directed by Mark Pirc and the production team at Studio 7 Media. The central themes of the video's story are feelings of entrapment, control, and the desire to escape. The camera plays a dual role – both as a symbol of surveillance and as a tool of liberation. Like the song itself, the video is permeated with the spirit of past decades. “The video is a tribute to the sound and bands that created music in the Balkan region before us,” say the members of Joker Out.

At the end of May, the musicians also catered to the fans of vinyl records. Their third studio album Souvenir Pop, which has millions of streams on digital platforms, now also has an LP version. Then, at the beginning of June, Joker Out fans were treated to a very special surprise: the band released their first animated series. The first episode is titled 'Kar ne valja' (What doesn't roll right).

This fun endeavor, which the band long wished to realise, also served as an announcement of their upcoming celebration of ten years of activity. To mark their tenth anniversary, the artists are also planning a major concert called Karneval. It will take place next June at Kardeljeva ploščad in Ljubljana.

Despite the recognition Joker Out enjoys today, the band members remain true to themselves, even though they have crossed the boundaries of geography, language, and genre. Guitarist Jan Peteh says that they always find new ways to expand on their dreams, and this summer will be just another stop on that journey. Already this weekend, the guys are coming to Kranj for Teden mladih. On the 4th of July at 9 p.m., you can hear them in Slovenski trg.

This time, our interviewees were Kris Guštin and Nace Jordan, a native of Kranj, who is incredibly excited for Friday night when he will perform in front of his home audience.

Joker Out remains recognisable, even though we haven't heard much from you recently. Has this been a time of creativity behind the walls of the recording studio?

Kris: Late last year we released a new album, which we then presented in a short period of time across the Balkans. Then we really did take two months off – to rest and do some traveling. Since March, we’ve been back in Ljubljana, quietly working on new music in the background, and also planning new tours, concerts, and music videos.

What can you tell us about the current, already third, album out now on vinyl? Why a vinyl record?

Nace: The previous two albums were also released on vinyl, but this one with its retro sound especially fits the format, even more than the previous ones. It’s something that we simply couldn’t leave out. Vinyl has definitely made a bit of a comeback in recent years. People perhaps miss the physical format of music they can buy. For me personally, it’s something special – especially the artistic designs printed in a larger format than on CDs.

The album includes ten songs. How would you describe the creative process of Souvenir Pop compared to the previous albums? What was the biggest creative challenge?

Kris: This was the first album which we started by locking ourselves in a rehearsal space in London for two months to begin developing and conceptualising it. Immediately after a long tour, we went into the studio for another month. We were also on a tight schedule – before and after, we had tonnes of gigs and tours, things we simply couldn’t move. So we were somewhat forced to squeeze everything into a very intense month, which was quite the challenge. There were many moments when we were overwhelmed by the creative process, wanted a break, but had to keep going. The album is very close to our hearts, and to our fans' too.

Was the album created intentionally or more spontaneously?

Nace: A part of this album, and of the whole process, was interesting exactly because we didn’t restrict ourselves, neither by language, nor by genre. We searched for some kind of essence of Joker Out to be part of each song, but nothing was done according to a strict plan. Maybe that’s what makes this album different from a lot of the music circulating today.

Kris: It was important that we liked the album – but that applies to all our albums. When you're at our point as creators, where you’ve already created certain expectations in your audience, the question of how to continue arises. You always have the feeling that if you stray too far from what you've done so far, you’ll alienate a part of your audience. But on the other hand, you have to primarily satisfy yourself as a musician and artist, and I think most people can only do that by evolving. Progression in sound was definitely the primary goal of this album and a kind of new artistic fulfillment of our needs.

Can we say your lyrics navigate between honesty and ambition?

Kris: Bojan was the sole and lead lyricist on Souvenir Pop, and honesty and ambition are two adjectives that describe him very well.

How has the group dynamic changed compared to the early days? How do you think you've grown, both individually and as a band, through the process of creating, playing, and performing?

Kris: I feel like in the beginning everything revolved around music, and since then, the story has evolved – from a hobby to a career, to a job. To some extent, we’ve established professional relationships among ourselves, and nowadays we also talk a lot about strategies, promotion, and similar things in addition to music. I think that’s the biggest change in the band. Musically, we still remain, or are mostly, on the same wavelength.

Nace: The change in our relationships is noticeable – from the time I joined until now, from my perspective. We've spent so much time together that we’ve grown used to it. It’s nice to take some space from the guys occasionally, but I think that through everything we’ve experienced together in recent years, we’ve developed a deeper sense of family. When we're together, we often find ourselves reminiscing.

Kris: Eurovision really brought us closer.

Does the audience remain loyal? Are they growing with you?

Kris: A large part of the audience remains loyal, and we’re gaining new fans too. We've probably already lost some older ones at some point, but that’s nothing that would stop our progress.

You're facing a pretty intense summer, if I may say so. Are you excited about the new tour that will take you abroad as well?

Kris and Nace: Absolutely.

Kris: I really missed it, I love traveling for concerts.

How do Joker Out see themselves in the future?

Kris: We’ve started with celebration of our tenth birthday. We’ll mark ten years of activity with a big event next year. And aside from that, the usual musical path: concerts and creating new music.

You’re performing in Kranj at the end of the week. What message do you have for the audience in Kranj? What can they expect from the performance?

Nace: On Friday, the 4th of July. If nothing else, we can expect the big stage of Teden mladih to return to Slovenski trg after a long time, which for me, as someone from Kranj, is quite nostalgic and something I’m really looking forward to. The concert will be something special – if not for the other guys, then definitely for me. I come back to Kranj with the greatest joy.

[fisheito]

Okay if hypothetically every clan member plus eidem and familiars had some sort of deep buried unbelievably obscure fetish/kink what do u think they'd be. Like this is shit they're taking to the grave. No amount of loving or bonding would ever coax that shit out of them. Not like choking or sounding i mean weird ass shit like being turned on by rocking chairs or some shit. Make it as OOC as possible as long as it's funny

u march into my abode? and demand of me ,, THOUGHTS??

*leans dramatically /woefully/ exasperated.ly against the table* you see, this was why the open mic kinkster night was so appealing to me. OTHERS would come to ME with THEIR ideas, because, when it comes to the Subject *gestures to fetishes* i can't seem to conjure much. the imagination dies here

though the idea of something that cannot be coaxed out of the clan members, not even with the magic of eiden's horny acceptance, is intriguing. is such a thing possible? i like to think that eiden will be up for ANYTHING given the right circumstances.

to play this little game of Imagination, i shall enlist the help of a random word generator. 1 noun+1 verb+1 adjective. let's see what the fates give us:

Eiden: hat/survive/homely - man wants to narrowly escape death after a hit-and-run from something that looks like the ugliest hat in existence. a fashion crime. a practicality crime. really, that thing barely counts as a hat it's so offensive to the eyes. - fear boner? adrenaline boner? - the point is, maybe sometimes you wanna get plowed by a giant ugly hat.

Aster: inflation/tax/efficient - fjoeifrjdgsgorsd gi did not make that up - aster gets off on the thought of money. we know this. but that doesn't suit the prompt of "something they wouldn't dare tell anyone" - or does it? maybe we can argue that aster is SO dedicated to maintaining his Little Angel persona--. that he would never ADMIT that he gets excited at the prospect of succinct bookkeeping and capital gains - he's still pretty open about it, though. - hmmmmm . how about... aster secretly wants to . inflate nobles... with an obscene amount of taxpayer money... (like, physically inflate) until they explode and the blood and guts and cash rain down on him? - once again. not really something you'd take to the grave. but it's all i got

Morvay: setting/impress/mere - i'm struggling again - morvay wants... to...... act like a demure debutant at a fancy dinner.... - and impress the attending guests with his knowledge of fine cutlery - then they all gangbang him on top of the place settings - dude that's not even farfetched. morvay would do that shit openly. on a tuesday night. - seriously, how am i supposed to come up with kinks that are *embarrassing* and *must be kept secret*?? what's the difference between that and this and those? - uhhhhhhhhh. morvay's... forbidden fantasy is... um. you know what, keep the entire setup , but take out the gangbang - yeah. morvay admitting to getting off on zero dicks involved? and NO torture? just everyone peacefully retiring to their own rooms after a pleasant albeit boring meal? sure. why not.

Yakumo: ear/insert/evasive - this word generator is making fun of me - yakumo wants eiden's dick in his ear - that seems pretty straightforward - but. YAKUMO has to get it in - AND! he's blindfolded - so yakumo gets off on the thought of echolocating the position of eiden's dick so he can successfully hang his ear shell on it - because eiden just sticking it in? too easy. too generous. - yakumo needs to work for it. he's sticking his ear against so many things , but eiden has to play the game a bit too (by keeping his dick not completely stationary) - after accidentally plopping onto a hipbone/forearm/knee/foot/etc. he FINALLY hits bullseye and circles eiden's dick - world's worst ring toss game. or is it more pin-the-tail-on-the-donk? - he cums on the spot when he feels that hot throb against his ear hole

Edmond: finding/stress/grubby - eddie is easy because there is a LOT he won't admit to - therefore, the most MUNDANE fantasy could still be something he'd take to his grave - so! simply enough! edmond wants to be discovered absolutely CHOWING DOWN on a 40-layer cake that he's shovelling into his face by the fistful, because stress eating (work is tough) - then, poundtown. while his hands are still disgusting and messy from the frosting of it all - if you wanna play up the "never never NEVER gonna tell anyone EVER" aspect. then just swap out the "grubby hands" for "actual grubs" - edmond wants to get fucked in a tub full of live grubs. - very squishy. very texture. - he gets off on the Disgustingness of it. the risk of grubs getting into places they shouldn't - mr vice captain isn't so squeaky clean after all......

Olivine: goal/glance/direful - i am narrowing my eyes and once again thinking that ...with enough prodding, olivine would admit to smth like this - because fantasies and reality are separate and this lad has not struggled to keep them apart (even if he really really really doesn't want to) - at an important ceremony where one of his parents is getting recognised for their religious/community contributions - where he's forced to be the super wonderful emcee or stage manager or whatnot . to escort his parent on and off the stage - while the parent is making their speech about the importance of piety/responsibility/purity whatever, they make eye contact with olivine - who's getting boinked in the rafters or backstage or whatever - and like. somehow. the parents know. so they have to now struggle to maintain composure while sorta staring down their son who is getting creampied just metres away - suspend the disbelief here, because olivine is NOT getting sexed up silently. the whole auditorium would know - you know what? give him a gag. make it even more obvious - there! getting off to thoughts of deeply disappointed and horrified parental stares! that's certainly something!

Quincy: grocery/compete/rare - ok this is a tricky one because quincy is, once again, one of those dudes i can imagine not being afraid to share ANYTHING - drops the most obscure kinks without any fanfare. he's cool with whatever - maybe this is a case of quincy withholding info because altho he's horny for it, doesn't ACTUALLY want to fulfill it. because it'll take too much energy - he will take several fantasies to his deathbed simply because he is not going to trouble himself to actually do it. - so. maybe this one fantasy is of him at the market. he is shopping for Topper's fave snacks - but this ONE GUY keeps sniping his purchases! look at how sad and hungry topper is now!!!! - eventually there is this PRIZED and SUPER RARE meat jerky. quincy is determined to get it because he hasn't procured any of the other desirable snacks today - but there's only ONE left. and that GUY!!! IS ALSO EYEING IT!!!!!! - so quincy and That Guy race to the stall, dodging obstacles, lifting entire people out of the way, generally expending energy in feats of physical strength/stamina - then they fuck to see who gets the jerky (sex competition) - doesn't that sound exhausting? no wonder quincy's never brought it up.

Kuya: platform/concentrate/endurable - the obvious one is to have a poor little sub on a stage, trying to focus on Being Good and Obedient , enduring 50000 lashes to the back or whatever with a sexy sexy cat o nine tails (kuya's gonna rebrand it to some kitsune kitsch-brand whip) - but kuya would admit to that ANY day. so you know what? he's getting hit with the OOC beam - kuya, in his platform shoes (he likes to feel tall), trying to walk across a tightrope, while heavy kuyorb-painted spheres are suspended from his nipples - or he has a vibrator up his butt. nip weights or butt dildo. either one requires some enduring. maybe both. - HE'S the good boy performing on stage now!! - idk why but he's in a skimpy bikini. with exposed nips, of course. - his platforms can also be those chunky heels he loves so much - honestly, i'm scared of what will happen if you try to subject kuya to a physical task like this. he's not a brawler. he's a mage. this will not end well - maybe the humiliation of failure is what is so enticing to him... in this forbidden, absolute nonsense fantasy......

Garu/Karu: county/pack/rotten - garu wants to go out to the countryside again - but he remembers the visceral fear he felt when he saw Master packing his things.... WITHOUT HIM - HOW COULD HE? he wouldn't think to leave garu behind.... right? he's gonna come over to garu and pick him up and put him in the luggage too, right??? - garu is a stinky puppy and he wants to be stashed away in master's luggage along with a bunch of snacks - so all of Master's clothing becomes stinky with garu sweat and rotting food - then he wants Master to stick his dick through a hole in the luggage (a very conveniently dick-shaped-and-sized hole) - well. then you let your imagination do the rest (and once again i'm thinking that garu would NOT be shy about telling eiden this smelly, overwarm fantasy) - karu on the other paw will NOT tolerate being thrown around like stinky luggage - if he's gonna be stinky, he's gonna be FREE . and the stank will be on his own terms! - nah. if we were to use the same 3 words. but try to find something EMBARRASSING for karu... hmmmm - how about. karu gets put in one of those old timey stockades. the ones u see in the cowboy movies. that counts for the county part. - in FRONT of his wolf pack. because in this fantasy, the great and powerful Karu leads his own pack - but. he gets pelted with rotten fruit - maybe a wolf in the audience is out loud counting the number of fruit that hit karu in the face (second thing that counts as county) - WAIT! no. better yet. they count every time eiden thrusts inside karu - this is supposed to be a shameful? horny fantasy, after all. - very controlled thrusts. because the audience can't count that fast - unless the audience starts spiralling out of lust and they count like a kid tryna cheat at hide and seek 12348-10-99-infitnity (and other rapidfire numbers) - eiden has to keep up the pace - karu wants to be humiliated in front of his followers soooo bad and also not get to eat the nasty stinky food that is falling to the ground around him

Blade: employee/deny/elderly - i'm struggling again. is there really a kink that BLADE would not disclose? this seems impossible. blade will try anything once - blade will bring up hyper unrealistic and unattainable sex positions all the time!! why would he be ashamed? edroids don't know shame (and they shouldn't) - uhhhhhhhhhhh maybe..... maybe blade gets so interested in eiden's old stories of working customer service jobs - that he wants to roleplay a scenario that eiden's talked about before - like. eiden bags groceries. and blade is an elderly customer who needs help putting things away in a logical way. - blade no!!! the bread shouldn't go on the bottom!!!! - and the only hesitation blade feels about this fantasy is when the two are actually trying to recreate it LOL - because eiden is trying to convince him that this is not really sexy - imagining blade in the most cartoonish old lady outfit. wig and cane and super thick glasses. (he's till cute in it, somehow) - in reality it's eiden getting stressed out about packing the groceries properly because blade really IS doing it in a way that no Human who Eats would - also, blade can't really play a convincing Elderly Customer in Need when he is quite clearly lifting entire couches out of the way when his tomato falls onto the floor - eiden: those look heavy. why don't i carry them out for you? *points to the grocery bags in blade's hands* - blade: ok!!! *drops all the grocery bags and puts his hands in eiden's* - eiden: I meant--- nevermind. - they tried, ok.

Dante: version/shed/jumpy - daddy wants to take you to the shed - no, wait. i'm putting dante in one of those jumping playgrounds. the really dangerous ones. with trampolines and bouncy castles everywhere - the ones where kids do ill-advised backflips and knock into each other in midair - dante wants to be surrounded by the whimsy and playful spirit of youth - but there needs to be a shed. hm. - okay not a playground. it's just an outdoor event. and there are inflatable structures upon which children are bouncing - AND there's a maintenance shed nearby. because why not - dante wants eiden to play ... the younger version of himself. dante wants to mess around with Younger Gay Disaster Eiden in the shed behind the bouncy castle - this desire stems from dante's ill-informed idea that a younger eiden would be more naive, and less demanding, and more likely to listen to Dante because in this case Mr SunLord is the wise elder - (shhh. i know. if anything, dante would struggle even MORE to deal with a younger eiden. man's getting Eiden on easy mode right now! but he doesn't know that. so let him dream of being the revered senpai) - so ultimately, yes. daddy wants to take you to the shed (behind the bouncy castle)

Rei: tale/write/narrow - something HORRIFYING? for REI? a kink that mr NoShame would be afraid to admit? i feel like we'd have to go reversies. like rei admitting his kink is "being loved and attended to by someone who genuinely cares for your wellbeing" - how can we spin these words into something loving and disgusting - how about... rei... harbours a deep dark fantasy about........ writing love letters - he and eiden are frequently far apart and their only means of communication is letters. so they send regular parchment full of ooey gooey sentiments and mundane everyday happenings - little kissie marks as signatures and everything - and. and.... his beloved ... is at war - what war? i don't know. it could be a book signing for all we know. it could be the end-of-season sale at the underwear merchant. eiden is at retail war, forced to travel to different locales to fight as an underpaid employee - every time that eiden narrowly escapes death [getting mauled by a grandmother with nothing left to lose], he rushes home to see his precious rei - violent struggles with people you cannot technically push around? really puts life into perspective. - every time a big sale happens, eiden returns home, filled with a new appreciation for Living to see his Wife for One More Night - eiden ravishes rei in their bedroom decorated with all the love letters they've exchanged - rei's most repressed fantasy is mass-produced cheesy romance novel of a love lost at retail

[manchestereyes]

oh btw that thing they said they'd tell us about in march that they couldn't do because they went on tour instead? my money's on it being the gaming channel rebrand. because of tour, they couldn't post as much on the gaming channel and they didn't want to do 2 huge things at the same time. but now that they've got the space and time to dedicate to the channel, they can unleash the rebrand in full. and i am SO ready for it.

[justforclowns]

Cost of Recompense

Price of Forgiveness (The clown epic by @birchbow ) Ageswap Au.

~4,350 words.

Warnings: clowns, light knife play, mentions of torture, overall kinda horny and self hatey vibes.

This and all following chapters will be posted on Ao3 in time but I am on a waiting list and very impatient. Woe, clowns be upon ye.

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

"Relax, little brother." He coos at you gentle.

Relax. Motherfucking relax, he says. 

Your name is Kurloz Makara and how are you supposed to relax with your lordship laid bare beneath you?  

He isn't fully bare. He has just shed the dark shall he usually wears amongst the faithful and removed the tight purple shirt beneath. You can see the dark, scar littered expanse of his chest rise and fall with his breaths. You can pick out the scars made by others and those most likely self inflicted. You linger on the damage self done. It serves as a reminder as to why you are here; in the Big Top, on the throne, straddling the king of colors lap with a short blade in hand held just above his stomach. 

You were not built correctly. Ever since you were small there has been something about hurting other trolls that got to you a little too strongly to just be a macabre interest. The way a troll in pain would writhe and how those beautiful short breaths would leave them all sharp through clenched fangs. It got to you something fierce. You learned the lesson young that you ain't right in the head. You were only a little less young when you learned to hide that fact. 

You hid it well all things considered. At 7 sweeps you made your way through conscription and onto the holy fleet no issue. Horns held high but not too high till you earned your place. And earn it you rightly fucking did. 

It wasn't easy by any means. You managed, though. Carved yourself a badass reputation and a good standing amongst the kin you do so cherish. You hold a passion for the family and a need to prove yourself unmatched by any troll you've met before. One comes close but you will not spare that heathen a single thought. 

Some said you had help. That your sign already held weight in the church which granted you special treatment. It wasn't exactly the biggest mystery that you and His High Holy Hilarity were cut from the same cloth. Put the two of you next to each other in front of someone with eyes and even they could get the idea in their head. As for the idea that he gave you any motherfucking boons, that you didn't earn, just by virtue of being built the same never had any frond to stand on as far as you were concerned. But people still thought it. 

You proved them wrong time and time again. Mission after mission and sweep after sweep you proved it was all 100% you that got you where you were today. Some of the rumor spreaders got brave with their claims and brought them right to you, displeased with your success and too stubborn to accept that they were wrong.

You got a skill in you to turn the brave away running. 

Through voodoo or club or just sharp wit you took every challenge worth taking as another chance to show you weren't fucking around. So if those that think you're riding your ancestors coattails are still out there they at least have the brains to keep their filthy mouths shut about it. 

You would never use your ancestors' status to your advantage. Even if it had nothing to do with pride you would just feel wrong using him that way. You admire him a good deal and not just because he is the head of your church. 

You admire him maybe too much. You have now, for a while. Which is why you can't fathom the situation you are currently in. 

Your eyes snap up to The Grand Highblood's face when he shifts closer to you. His hand, bigger than yours but not much colder, wraps carefully around your forearm. You are trembling. When did you start trembling? 

"Are you having second thoughts?" He asks. His voice is smooth and low, the slightest breathy hitch at the end that makes something possessive and stupid stir inside of you. Your eyes stay on his face, his pretty face, like the one you see in the mirror but aged and softer around the eyes. Kinder, the rumors say, when it gets to reprimanding kin who done what some could consider a shallow wrong. Soft fucking pusher for the family. So soft. 

You open your mouth to respond yet the words fail you. Of all times. Of all the times in your 12 sweeps of life, why now? Why? 

He is looking at you. The excitement his eyes held begins to fade to something more resigned. He smiles so sweetly at you. "I understand," he tells you, removing his hand from your arm. "Ain't no shame in backing out brother. Was a strange request to begin with. I understand if you can't get your chill on with- nngh!" He shudders as you drag the knife from his collarbone to just above the hem of his pants. "Oh fuck-"

You bite back a groan as you skillfully flip the knife in your fingers and drag it back up. You aren't pressing enough to cut him deep but you do begin to see thin purple lines appearing along his flesh. These cuts burn with the touch of air, sharp and precise, opening up just enough to let the nerve endings fire off in panic. You drove a man mad with a couple hundred of these one time. 

The muscles in his stomach flex and he shudders again. "A-aah~ ah c'mon motherfucker you can go harder than that c'mon I've seen you work." He encourages.

He has seen you work. Seen you pry answers from prisoners maws way too quickly for your liking. Much to the suspicious awe of your fellow churchmates. Your skill in inquisition got so well known that he came to see for himself one night. You didn't know he was watching when you raked deep gashes down a heretic’s arms and pinned them closed with those wicked stinging needles you've come to love. You didn't know that when you stepped out of that room and he was there, smiling and giving you praise, that he may have been feeling just as electrified as you were at the moment. 

He must have felt it. He must be feeling it if the way he lifts himself up against your blade is anything to go by. The high pitched noise in his throat you don't dare call a whine makes your insides twist and shiver. Shakes the words you've been searching for loose from your thinkpan.

 "You like this?" Your voice comes out a breathless whisper. You feel stupid for asking, he must like it if he is letting you, there's no way he would let you this close if he didn't. 

Unless that soft pusher of his is telling him you need it. Unless you slipped up somehow and he saw the aching need to cause hurt that you have inside you. Unless he is forcing himself to take it as he thinks no one else will- Unless- 

The shaky whimper that comes from him along with "Oh brother please-" snaps you from your thoughts. Back to reality you smell the slightest twinge of blood in the air. You look down and see that while you were having a miniature double damned crisis he had shifted close enough to you to have pierced himself ever so slightly with your knife. Just a few inches above the arch of his hip a pool of royal purple fills and finally drips down his side and disappears. Your throat feels too dry and your mouth too wet. 

You have drawn the blood of your holy king. You have cornered him on his throne and cut into him. He is shirtless beneath you, those kind round eyes watching you with fondness undeserved.

You don't feel the knife slip from your hand but you do feel his arm come up around your back. You do hear his soft, sing song praise at the edge of your conscious mind. 

"Good." He tells you. "You did good. We don't gotta do no more than that. Felt good brother, don't go getting harsh on yourself now. Ah shit you poor thing…" 

"Good?" you shoot back at him. Looking up to his face, bristling with the feelings this whole situation has brought up. What is this to him? Why is he doing this? He always looks at the family soft but does he let the family sit in his lap and take knife to his flesh? Does he rest his hand on their back and praise them for doing so? "I stabbed you and you tell me I did good?" 

He chuckles. "Well, yeah. Hardly call that a stab, little brother. It'll be gone in a night at worst." His hand moves along your back in a slow motion. Your claws twitch. "What'd you think of that? Tell me." 

You can't disobey him. 

"It felt like sin, but not. Felt too good to be right. I thought- I thought you were going to laugh at me." You say. His eyes widen a little and his hand gives a soft squeeze around your waist. "I thought this was some fucked up joke. Some, motherfucking- some prank or cruelty done on me to amuse you." 

"Aint nothing like that-" 

"I thought I was dreaming, for a second. It don't feel real. Having you here, having you so open to hurting. My Lord you asked me to-" the words trail off in a pathetic wheeze as they leave you again. 

He just stares at you for a bit. You know your face can be cold and unreadable like ice when you want it to be and fuck if you don't want that real hard right now. He sees through you clear as still water anyway. His hand on your back moves up to tangle into the roots of your hair, you try to resist but fail and end up pressing back against his hand. 

"I asked you to hurt me, didn't I?" He asks even though there's no need to clarify. You don't think you could forget what he said if you tried your damnedest. The way he came to you in the halls as you wandered without reason, asked you to walk with him, talked with you like normal then got real quiet. Got a favor to ask you, little one he had said. Don't have to be doing it if you find yourself unwilling but I got a curiosity in me I think you could help sate.

He took you to the Big Top and made brief yet rattling inquiry on your desire to cause pain. Rumor spreads even as you try to forget the words whispered that made every drone season harder than the last. You winced despite yourself when he simply asked You like causing pain, brother? He did not look at you with distaste. Or with plain curiosity as he claimed to hold. He was fascinated. 

Things moved fast after that. Patience was never a virtue your lordship took much pride in. After you had affirmed his claims he had gestured for you to come up to his throne. He invited you up onto said throne, into his lap, and set the knife cool against your palm. He had asked you to…

"-take the knife to me as you like, that's what I said, yeah?" Your Lord's tone is calm, even, as if he is just double checking the facts on an arbitrary mission report form. You nod at the words because that really is what he said and here you are all rattled right to the marrow at it. 

"Cool, and that's what you did. Did it real gentle like too." 

"I stabbed you-" 

"Hey, knock shit right the fuck off." He frowns at you for the first time today. Disapproving on your statement of fact. Your hands twitch and while you don't know where the knife went you still got claws and the urge to tear into him again. Make him get his understanding on good and true about what threat you pose. You would never. 

"I'm fine, little one." His hand rubs gently at the back of your skull. "Better than fine. That was… that was real motherfucking sweet what you did for me." 

For him. He asked, you delivered. He commanded, you obeyed. You did good.

Your face must do something ugly with how his hand briefly stills. The fins on his ears twitch as he looks you over. You're ready for the disgust to settle into his features but it never comes. 

His mouth opens a second just to close the next, tongue flicking over his lips as if he was nervous. You almost laugh. Nervous, The Grand Highblood? Impossible. 

He breathes in slow, you catch the movement of his chest with your peripherals. Messiahs you want to sink your teeth in and taste him. What he says next is like a slap in the face. "Did you like it..? Would you want to do it again?" 

You look at him, really look at him. Surely there would be something, anything, letting you know this was all in jest. You hate to think so low on your Lord's humor but if this ain't some bad joke you don't know how you'll deal. 

You find nothing but sincerity in his eyes. Round and dark and royal as they come while still walking on land. Maybe a little hope but you quickly disregard it as your own. 

"I…" the sound cracks out of your throat. He grants you time to get your shit together. Moves his hand from your head down to your back, heavy but gentle. You shiver at the feeling. The sheer size of him and everything else about him.

It wouldn't be wrong to say you thought he was fine as fuck. Everybody with a working set of ganderbulbs must. Tower of lean muscle that he is, got legs for nights that had you near running to keep up with him in the halls during your first few perigees on ship. You're only a little ashamed at the fact you snuck glances whenever that dark shall left his shoulders. 

You imagine what you may feel getting to cut such a pretty motherfucker again some night. Then imagine if that pretty motherfucker was your king. Getting to hear him say 'brother please' again in that whispy way. Wondering what sounds he would make if you pressed harder, how much he could take if a stab in the hip would heal in a night. 

It all makes your bulge do something down right shameful with how it twists and tries to slip out. Your legs attempt to close and are stopped both in part by you realizing how obvious that would make your predicament and by the body you're still straddling.

You glance down, glaring slightly at the obstacle between your knees, only to be met with the still bare lower abdomen of your Lord. You look back up, not too quickly, and look at his face instead. He is watching you, lips slightly parted and eyes curious again. 

"I… that sounds… are you fucking with me?" 

He seems a little taken aback by your words and you fear you fucked up before he starts to laugh. You let out a little wheeze of a chuckle as well, compelled by whatever joy he has found in this scenario. He smiles at you, clear and bright. 

It takes on a sly edge as he says "Shit, if you're offering. I ain't gonna take what you don't wanna give, little one. Fuck. Fucking does sound good though. Especially when you got those miraculous hurting hands." His eyes drop down to where your hands rest against your thighs. If you were a fool you'd say he looks enticed. 

You feel your face heat up under your paint. A cocktail of emotions are swirling around in your head. Arousal, shame, confusion, to name a few. 

You take a sharp breath- watch his hands twitch- and exhale it slowly. "My Lord, I- … A brother could get a real twisted idea of what all you're asking of him. Give me the grace of speaking plainly on it. If you please.” You say, keeping your voice even, not even letting a hint of begging come through. 

The Grand Highblood sighs softly at that. He shifts underneath you, sitting up straighter. You go to move but his hand clamps down on your thigh, keeping it in place. Fuck but he's real big- and he let you get a knife in him what a day- 

"Grace you ask for is grace I will give, little one." He looks at you, a little more serious. More familiar too how you see him on the night to night. He spares a glance over your being before he continues. “I want you to hurt me. Only in ways that you want. If how you want it is to just swing around every other scattering of nights when you get the itch I'll gladly take it.” 

-Before you can even start to reel at the idea of being your Lord's torture booty call he continues-

“If you want something more steady, like the beating of a pusher, fit with all its running blood and fluttery fits, then that I can also happily do.” He tells you, looking at you fond again. Not seeing through you straight out the back but like he can see inside you. He doesn't look disgusted by what he thinks he's finding. 

You blink at him. Your mouth is an unreadable line because you will it so. He blinks back at you like a delayed mirror. You think you gather what he is saying but it's so outlandish and wild you cannot ignore the doubt it stirs in you.

“Plainly, My Lord.” You remind him brazenly. 

He laughs his soft sing song laugh at you before saying “Wanna be matesprites?”

You die. You think. That's the only explanation for the rush of everything that fills you up and threatens to blind you over three simple Alternian words. Or you're already dead and this is some hall of illusions you must endure as punishment for your transgressions. 

When you come back to yourself he's looking at you softly, with slight concern, the same look he had when he told you it was okay to back out.

Before he can tell you the same again you manage to say “Yes.” without a waiver to your voice. “If it pleases you.” You add, because you’ve been more mannerless tonight than is truly smart. 

He smiles, but it's quirked at one end, following the tilt of his head. “Would please me just fine. Would it please you though, little brother? Talk plainly at me.” He chuckles, tossing your request back at you like it's all a hate-friendly game. 

“Abso-motherfucking-lutely it would, My Lord.” You say in a near whisper, watching his face. The more genuine turn of his smile and the crinkles at the edges of his eyes show he is well and truly pleased with you. 

“Bitchtits,” He says, and wraps the other of his long arms around you to pull you up against him. You manage not to make any embarrassing sounds of delight or startlement but it does take you a shameful few seconds to realize that he is hugging you. That's it, just a hug, a simple act of affection you've seen even hate-friends give to each other on the off nights. You return it half a moment too late but you do return it. 

He's broader than you by virtue of being your own body type scaled up several notches. Being pressed flat to the expanse of his chest lets you almost feel the beat of his pusher. You can smell so much of him, his hair, his skin, the faint lingering of his blood and you certainly smell how it took him to have you put knife to his flesh. Maybe there is a rumbling sound he is making that is too low for you to hear yet, or maybe there isn't.

It's nice. It tells you what you're too stupid to realize with just your eyes. He is alive and he is happy. You squeeze him slightly and he returns the favor. Delayed mirror. 

You're taking a risk, both of you. Him so high and important and you so closed in and quiet. To let another in could spell disaster. Specifically each other. You could be planning to take his place for all he knows. He could rule you unfunny and excommunicate you. 

When you pull back, maybe hoping to voice some of these concerns, he just smiles at you. His eyes are lazy and fond, his breathing is going steady again as he comes down from the excitement of the morning. You can't bring yourself to ruin this moment for him, so you take heed of one of the first lessons all laughsassins must learn: keep your motherfucking mouth shut, motherfucker. 

He keeps smiling even as you both get your shit together, settling down after the impromptu knife play and quadrant dealings. He finally lets you off the throne. You get your feet under you and feel less dizzy than you probably should. A quick mental check tells you that you did not die, your body is fine, and nothing is missing. With that out of the way, you spare a glance over to The Grand Highblood. 

He rises as well, towering over you once again. He quickly finds the knife and literally tosses it back into his sylladex; the blade flying over his shoulder and into the flashing colors before both promptly disappear. Fuck but his modus really is wild to see up close and he's so cool for knowing how to just go with it. Another way he's blessed you imagine. 

You get to see it flash again and barely make out the various things that come out get quickly tossed back in get flung out get juggled till he finds what he wants and it all goes away. All in a matter of seconds. The Grand Highblood stands there with a new shirt in his hand like it ain’t no thing. He catches you looking and looks all the more pleased for it. 

He re-dresses and you're mad about it. Which is wrigglerish and stupid, you remind yourself. You can't rightly ask he stay half naked for you. At least not yet. 

If he means this all to be for true maybe one night you will have the right to ask he stay naked. Fully naked. Just to let you look at him in all his hurting glory. Regal and holy and yours and fuck your bulge is in a Messiahs damned knot and your head ain't much better. 

“Off to ‘coon now, brother.” You hear him say. You only blink at him but he still finds the question in it quick enough. “Was late already when I pulled you out the halls, even later now. Both of us got shit to do come moonrise. Don’t we, little one?” He tilts his head at you, leading your thoughts with the question till you find the answer buried in the back of your pan. 

You do have shit to do. You were asked, at some time that is eluding your memory, to assist one of the laughsassination feeders with a ship wide lesson. Did she ask you herself? Given you can’t fully recall the interaction you would say she did. You can’t miss that.

You don’t curse or even sigh. You just lower your shoulders a bit in defeat. He chuckles all the same. You manage to give him a small smile that he returns to you bigger and brighter. 

“Suppose we do. Thank you for your time, My Lord.” You say, all formal. It gets a small snicker out of him and you feel like you’ve won something. 

He leads you to the giant double doors of the Big Top and wishes you luck on all your endeavours of the coming night. Before the doors open he bends down to press a quick kiss to your lips. It lingers only enough for you to return it and then a single beat longer. After that he pulls back and he is once again so much taller and older than you and you have to leave. You make sure to give at least a slight bow of respect before walking out into the halls. 

It is a walk, not a run, even as you get further from the throne room. Your strides are steady and quiet. For all the few passerbys know you were simply taking a stroll to clear your head in the late hours. Your mind is clear, actually. For a few seconds. 

With his sweet smiling face gone and only your lingering shame as company your thoughts get real nasty real quick. 

What is wrong with you? What is wrong with you? 

Did you really just do all that? Did he let you- ask you, you remind yourself- to do all that? Are you two something now? Something more than leader and follower? Perish the thought. Burn it. Destroy it. Leave nothing but ashes in place of a stupid wriggler’s dream. 

You hurt him and it was wonderful. You walk. You want to do it again. You walk. He wants you to do it again. 

You walk and walk and walk all the way back to your room and manage to get inside with no one knowing anything except you. No one knows what you’ve done except you. What horrible things you’ve done and will do again. Awful awful beautiful things. 

You are going to pay for this. You just don’t know how yet.

[elderwisp]

◁ || ▷

Atlas: Taryn? Hey!

Atlas: What happened-

Taryn: Please don’t. 

Atlas: Can you talk to me?

Taryn: [ strained ] What is there to say that you don’t already know? I keep asking myself why you’re so nice to me all of a sudden. Why would someone like you be around someone like me and it’s such a… Mind-fuck. 

Atlas: I swear to you, it isn’t like that-

Taryn: Am I just a one night stand?

Atlas: [ stammers ] N-No! 

Taryn: Convincing.

Atlas: I’m sorry it wasn’t a good enough response, I’m just caught off guard. Why would you assume that?

Taryn: Because my questions made sense the minute you walked out of that building and there was lipstick smeared all over your face. Then you gave me this look, something about it made me realize I wasn’t the first and I don’t think I’d be the last. 

Atlas: [ flatly ] We didn’t even catch each other's name, that’s how little it meant. 

Taryn: [ barely a whisper ] Oh now that’s incredibly fucked up… Was that supposed to make me feel better?

Atlas: Bee-

Taryn: [ voice breaks ] Was it worth it? [ pauses ] Don’t… Answer that. I’m… Gonna go now.

[lambilegs]

GUYSSSSS LOOK AT THE CUP MY FRIEND BOUGHT ME WHEN WE WENT OUT THIS SHIT BELONGS IN A MUSEUM LIKEEEEEE

[maddy-ferguson]

i have a crush on someone i met a month and a half ago who i only saw for a week then that i'm seeing again for a week now and that i'm gonna see for four more weeks from now until june this is what life is all about

[freebooter4ever]

holy shit for the first time in ten years i forgot nicks birthday

[distortedheart]

i am. hoping that aventurines story does not get done badly.