#(except christophe i guess)

[ohmuqueen]

Pretty rude that goodreads doesn't have a feature where you can show how many books you read for a range of years.

Like I'm sorry I didn't keep track of what year I read every single book from elementary school through college but I know the range of years I read those books

(frustrated with myself that I'm so old now I can't even remember what classes I read certain books for)

[hsslilly-blog]

i dislike drawing bags because i’m lazy but claire has this huge collection of bags i think. even though she’s always with That One. for uni and casual outings. i think bags are a big claire thing so whenever she Really goes out she always has a different purse matching her outfit

[anghraine]

#Spock was busy plotting her downfall#Gary? dead. Edith? dead. Rayna? dead and mindwiped away for good fucking measure.#obviously neither party was actually interested in the other in this case since they’re both manipulating each other#but I just KNOW Spock would have thrown her out the damn airlock had this been a real moment of interest for either of them#and he would have had a logical excuse locked and loaded and his big brown eyes with extra eyeshadow ready for Jim (via @alderaan-babe)

ahjkdfjk;adfjkjafd

I cackled at this, can't lie. It's genuinely hilarious to me that Spock's kneejerk reaction is so visibly displeased, and only later does he think clearly enough to conclude that Kirk isn't actually into Lenore and something is genuinely wrong.

Spock's conclusion that this flirtation + Riley's demotion + Kirk's random questions about Thomas Leighton suggest some unknown connection between Kirk, Riley, Leighton, and Anton Karidian (not Lenore) is dismissed by Bones but leads Spock straight to his discovery of the Tarsus IV genocide. He disregards the possibility of Kirk actually being interested in Lenore in the gayest way possible, so it's often a joke at his expense, but he's actually completely right about everything throughout the rest of the episode and it's Bones's het goggles that keep him from seeing the evidence that's so clear to Spock or understanding the weight of the genocide. And yet Spock is so pissed every time Kirk and Lenore interact, lmao.

It's like in "Dagger of the Mind" when Spock 100% knows about the neural neutralizer and goes to rescue Kirk specifically because he fears his mind has been altered. When he sees Kirk impulsively kiss Helen, Spock hears her say outright that it's morally wrong because Dr. Adams did this to him, and despite knowing all of this, Spock just looks incredibly bitchy about the whole thing.

Uhm excuse me miss but how dare u flirt with my captain in front of me 

[redrosydiaz]

so oliver said it would be cool to check in on sperm donor baby and see if theres anything to explore there and i have NOT stopped rotating this inside my mind like a rotisserie chicken

just — i think it really could be SUCH a fun thing to revisit, later down the line, after buddie have gotten together and have settled a bit more. like it could be a really great catalyst for a "do we want more kids" kind of conversation.

like, they run into connor and kameron and sperm donor baby, who's really more like sperm donor toddler now, and it's maybe a little bit of an awkward encounter, bc none of the adults ever thought this would happen. like, after the baby was born they kind of went their separate ways, and idk maybe buck and connor still talk every so often, but its not regular and its never really anything deeper than a surface level catch up. theyre not exchanging christmas cards or anything. so, this is, really, the first time buck has seen the kid since he was born.

and it DOES kick up feelings in buck, but— not the expected ones that would come from seeing the kid that is half you but not yours. instead, it just stirs up that yearning that's always existed within buck, the yearning for a family, for a baby of his own. and — he's already got the first part. a family. he has that with eddie and christopher and he loves it, he loves their little family so so much. its absolutely perfect to him. but.... the idea of a baby.... he's always wanted one. he's always wanted to be a dad. to do the whole thing, from start to, well, forever. and he has christopher and he loves christopher but he also missed out on christopher's baby years, for obvious reasons. but he WANTS to experience that!! so bad!! and the idea of getting to do that with eddie.... it's a good one. its a good idea.

but its also a scary idea. because, buck knows eddie, he knows him better than he knows himself sometimes, but this? this isn't something he knows about eddie. he doesn't actually know if having more kids is something eddie wants. and he's maybe a little scared of what that kind of conversation could do to their relationship. because.... if theyre NOT on the same page about it.... well.

so he just. sits on it. doesn't bring it up. but of course eddie can tell that something is up, that buck has something on his mind. something he wants to talk about but isn't talking about yet. and so he does what he always does — he doesn't press right away. he gives buck the time and the space to decide when and how he wants to bring it up to eddie, whatever it is. except buck's fairly predictable in the sense that eddie can usually guess when buck will finally crack and start that long awaited conversation with him. but buck doesnt do that this time. he holds onto it still.

so eddie does press, and eventually buck does spill, and The Question comes up: would you ever want more kids?

and i think it would make for a deeeelicious storyline to have them NOT exactly on the same page, but also not not on the same page, yknow? just like — its not really something eddie has ever considered (aside from the baby scare with shannon all those years ago). it's just not something thats come up, like his other relationships never got to the baby conversation level and, frankly, he's had a whole lot of other Way More Pressing things to deal with to be sitting around contemplating a potential future second baby lol.

but then buck obviously HAS put some thought into it and it IS something he wants — has been for a long time, really — and so when The Question comes up and eddie's first response isn't an overwhelming yes, but is this hesitant, guarded well i don't know — buck's brain immediately starts to catastrophize. because an "i dont know" isn't a yes, and not a yes is a now a nonzero chance of no, which is a scary thought!! because this is buck's forever relationship!! and he doesnt want it to crumble apart over this!! and so he panics and hes trying to give eddie space to think about his answer, but that means that now instead of it being an open conversation, theyre both kind of stewing in their own thoughts and feelings and panics and fears about it and about what the other is thinking.

and for eddie — i think when he does think about it it's not something he is oppposed to, but he would initially approach it with a lot of hesitance and in a very guarded way bc his first instinct would be to think of all the ways hes fucked up with christopher and how terrified he would be to repeat that. of course, once he got past that intial reaction and like actually really thought about it (and went to bobby for advice about it!!) he would realize that these arent the same situations. he's older now, and he's more settled, and he's got a good partner in this — someone he feels supported by and someone he makes feel supported too! this isn't the same as it was fifteen, sixteen, seventeen years ago. the circumstances are completely different. and i think once he got over that mental block, of thinking it would be exactly like the first time, he would be — well, he'd still be a little terrified bc who ISNT a little terrified of having a baby, but he'd also be breathlessly exhilarated about it because. he loves being a dad!! he LOVES being a dad!!! and the idea of doing it again, WITH BUCK? theres nothing he wants more, actually!!!

meanwhile buck is trying to reconcile with what his answer would be to the question what do i want more? a baby or eddie? which one can i live without, which one can i not? and he would have to grapple with and ultimately make a decision to potentially give up one of those dreams. (he would, after deep thought and consideration, and ALSO a conversation with bobby, decide that he cannot live without eddie. he would choose eddie.)

and then when the two of them FINALLY come back together to have a conversation about this, buck would hit eddie with the i'm willing to give up this dream for you. because i love you, so much, and i love our family, and i want to grow it, i want more with you, i always want more with you, but if you dont then i'll be okay with that too, because our family is also perfect the way it is. and eddie is like buck and then he grabs both of buck's hands and he's like buck you dont have to make that choice and buck is like eddie yes i do, yes i do and buck is still obviously in distress bc like he made the decision and he isn't changing his mind he wouldn't but that doesn't mean letting go of the other dream wasnt hard. wasn't devastating too. so buck's like doing his best to not let that show but it's still bleeding through but eddie just takes his hands and his face is splitting into a smile bc he just cant help it he feels so joyous and so buoyant like hes walking on air and he tells buck you don't have to make that choice bc there isn't a choice. you can have both buck. and bucks like what... wait.... eddie are you saying.... and eddie nods and now BUCK is breaking out into a smile and hes got tears in his eyes and hes like eddie, oh my god we— we're going— and eddie finishes it for him, we're going to have a baby.

BUT JUST — the two of them having this conflict that isn't ACTUALLY a conflict at the core of it, because they ARE ultimately on the same page, but it takes some Work for them to get there and it makes them look at themselves and each other and their relationship in this whole new light, and it just proves how strong their partnership already is, how much love and also RESPECT there is between them, bc they dont just try to like convince the other to change their mind but they look INWARD and try to see if and how they can reframe their own points of view. and the whole thing just makes them even stronger together for it.

AND THEN THATS HOW WE GET GIRLDADS BUDDIE AND BIG BROTHER CHRISTOPHER <33

[effervescentwolf]

"No one believes me," Buck complains when Eddie picks up the phone, "when I say that I'm not in love with you."

Eddie's heart drops. Then, like his stomach isn't still in his throat, like he doesn't feel out of his body for no reason at all, "Hey, Buck." He gestures, imagines Buck's hands waving around as he talks. "Hi, Eddie. How's the house?" Then, back to himself, "Finally unpacked most of my stuff. How's your unpacking going?"

"I don't get it," Buck continues morosely like he didn't even hear Eddie. He sounds a little like a kicked puppy, and there's a fond little feeling tugging at Eddie's chest. It feels good to feel that again, even though it hasn't been that long yet.

Yet.

But it still feels like something familiar in this unfamiliar house, familiar in a way all of Eddie's worldly possessions don't either. The closest he got to comfort were Christopher's things, and then the things Buck has bought him over the years. The rest felt—impersonal.

"You told them I'm straight?" Eddie says, and there's that other feeling again, the one that makes him feel like he's missed a step when walking, like his feet are being swept right out from under him.

"That's what I said," Buck says, glum. "Even Tommy—"

"Tommy?" Eddie repeats, brows drawing together, warmth in his chest snapping shut, like turning a key in a lock, like there's something closing up.

"Yeah, I—" Buck starts and stops. "I—I ran into him the other night when I was out with Ravi, and—"

"You were out with Ravi? Didn't think you two had much in common," Eddie says, not sure why he asks or why he says it, not sure what he wants to know. Buck didn't tell him that though, and it feels almost like panic for a second, except Eddie doesn't panic, and Buck isn't—Buck is his best friend. Buck just... hadn't told him yet.

"Yeah, Maddie said I needed to make friends so—" Buck groans. "Why is this so hard?"

He's whining. Eddie smiles despite himself, fiddles with the hem of his shirt. "Never really needed to," he says absently.

"I know! And I'm fine being alone—uh, not that I'm alone," Buck immediately backtracks, still doing that thing of stepping around Eddie to protect him.

"Buck," is all Eddie has to say.

"But I can't sleep in your house and pretend," Buck says, and now it's an outpour, "It doesn't feel like my house. Even when I—I hooked up with Tommy here, and—"

"What?" Eddie says, and he thinks the only thing keeping him standing is the way he's about to shatter his phone with his grip, so tight it hurts, fingers numb, mouth dry, heart pounding. "Buck, why would you—"

"I know, I know," Buck replies hastily, "I won't do it again. I thought it was—I mean I didn't want to be alone, but he asked me—he thought I was in love with you," he rounds out, sounding small, and Eddie has to swallow two times before he can even say anything. Buck beats him to it, still on a roll. "I guess he was... jealous? I get it, I guess."

Eddie's lips are numb now. He still feels a flicker of something vindictive, a little bit of satisfaction. That's what he gets for breaking Buck's heart, he thinks. Should've stayed away in the first place. "You get it," he repeats anyway.

"Yeah, I mean—you know," Buck says, hesitant, and Eddie can see him so clearly it hurts, see the way his face scrunches up, the way he shrugs and turns his shoulders inward like he's trying to hide, just a little. "We're—close. We're—you know. You and me."

"Yeah," Eddie says. He's not choked up, not really, but he's so grateful for everything he has, and he's just—he's glad he has Buck. He misses him, and he's glad for him. If he has to blink back tears, there's no one to witness it. "Me and you."

Buck doesn't respond for an eternity. "I just miss you," he says eventually, soft.

"Not in love with me, though?" Eddie has to ask, and he doesn't know why.

Buck laughs a little, sheepish. "Not in love with you," he says, and what he should sound is relieved, but he sounds nervous, mostly.

What Eddie should be is relieved. But it takes him another eternity to realize he's not that, and he's not breathing either, and then he inhales and the world keeps going, and Buck is still on the other end of the phone, and he thinks there's a very tiny part of him, something hidden away in a corner, something that he hasn't dared touch, that wonders what it would have been like in another world and another conversation where he wasn't the tiniest bit, guiltily, disappointed.

[quillsnink]

"Say Please"

• You were sitting on the couch in Chan's studio, eyeing him occasionally as he was lost in editing the songs for their upcoming album, not having spoken a single word for the past hour .

• When he started lightly humming a random melody, that's when you knew he was a little bit available and probably very happy with how the editing turned out.

• He turned his chair to face you and gave you a sweet smile, flashing his dimple.

• "What's up ? You okay there baby girl ?", he asked, turning back to his laptop again while clicking something on it.

• "Can I get a hug Channie ?", you pouted, while making puppy dog eyes at him.

• He turned his chair back towards you, with one eyebrow raised, his serious demeanor now replaced with a playful smirk.

• "Say please", a teasing smile now tugging at his lips, his eyes sparkling with mischief, expecting you to clearly get shy or roll your eyes at him.

• You looked at him with both eyebrows raised slightly. Moments and words like these still made you shy and surprised at how flirty he could really be, but today you were having none of his games.

• So you sighed and decided to take matters into your own hands today, suddenly feeling a surge of boldness.

• You stood up and walked towards him, your movements confident and deliberate, your eyes never leaving his as if you were quietly challenging him.

• Chan leaned back slightly in his chair, his smirk faltering and suddenly feeling flustered, his flirty demeanor from a second ago, now completely replaced with shyness and anticipation as you came closer. "Wait, what are you".

• You came and stood in between his legs which were already parted and you leaned down, your face mere inches away from that of his now. Your thumb brushed his lower lip, gently tracing it as you tilted your head slightly, your eye contact still intact, and you whispered, your voice soft yet confident and sultry, "please".

• For a moment, the room was dead silent except for the muffled sounds of an upbeat song coming from the practice room beside his studio. His dark brown eyes bore into yours, searching for any trace of hesitation or teasing. But all he saw was your confidence, and it completely threw him off balance.

• His lips parted slightly, as if to say something, but no words came out. A faint blush spread across his cheeks, and his usual calm, composed demeanor seemed to crumble under your gaze.

• "Oh my goodness, what is she doing ? No no no I cannot with this, I think my heart just stopped" , he kept thinking, his eyes still wide open in shock and surprise.

• He cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure, but his voice came out slightly shaky. "I, uh... I guess... you really wanted that hug, huh?"

• You smirked, stepping back slightly but not breaking eye contact. "Is that a yes or a no then, Christopher?"

• The way you said his full name made his stomach do flips. Without another word, he stood up, towering over you slightly as he closed the distance. In one swift motion, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a warm, firm embrace. His hands rested securely on your lower back, and you could feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest.

• "You win, okay ? But don’t think I’m letting you tease me like that without consequences", he murmured into your ear, his voice low.

• You laughed softly. "Ooh what consequences are we talking about Chris ? What are you going to do to me huh ?", you asked, still hugging him tightly as you breathed in his manly cologne. "God, he smells so good", you thought, inhaling more of his scent.

• He smirked, leaning in close so his lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, "You’ll find out soon enough Y/Nie", his grip tightening as if trying to pull you even closer, trying to fill any possible space between you.

• You couldn’t help the shiver that ran down your spine as he pulled away, his teasing smirk firmly back in place. But as he sat back in his chair, the flush on his face betrayed just how much you had affected him.

• She’s going to be the death of me, my God, I still can't get over her touch on my lips, he thought, as he shyly turned towards the screen, now with a water bottle in hand, your gesture clearly leaving his throat dry.

A/N : Hope you liked it. Do like, comment, reblog and follow if you did. You can find the rest of my masterlist here.

[heardsomedickwasbeinmeantoyou]

also on ao3 HERE

.

“So, I overheard this guy in the line at the coffee shop this morning talking about name meanings—”

“Of course you did,” Eddie interjects, not unkindly.

Buck turned up with beers about a half hour ago, and has had his head in his phone for the last, what, twenty minutes? Something like that.

This is the first thing he's said since Eddie let him in and he sat his ass down on the couch in silence, looking like he needed Eddie to just allow him to.

Eddie did.

“—and I thought I'd look up ours.”

He's chewing on his bottom lip like it tastes good.

Eddie surprises himself by wondering if it does.

“I'm guessing you already know what Christopher means.”

Thinking back to when Shannon asked if he liked the name, Eddie smiles.

“Means 'Bearer of Christ', or something, right? We chose it because was Shannon's grandfather's name, though. He was Greek, and she adored him.”

Searching fingers instinctively find his pendant. It's positioned to the left, sitting right over his heart.

He misses his son like he'd miss a lung.

Buck looks up at him and smiles back, and Eddie feels glad the release he'd found dancing 'round his living room earlier isn't going to suddenly disappear down the bathroom sinkhole, along with his moustache.

“So, tell me, what does Edmundo mean, oh scholarly one?”

Buck's eyebrows try to meet his hairline.

“You don't know?”

Eddie tips his head back against the couch and scrunches his mouth up into nose.

“I have sisters, man, of course I know what it means. But that doesn't mean I don't want you to tell me.”

Buck seems somewhat happy with that.

“Well, it's a derivative of the Old English name Edmund, which is a combination of the words ēad and mund. The first part means prosperity, or riches, which is a bit of a bust, sorry man,” and he tries for a grin. It almost hits.

“But the the mund part means protector—which is pretty spot on, I reckon.”

Buck's eyelashes are kind of blonde, and kind of pretty. Eddie's thought it before, but there's just something about them in this light, in Eddie's house, on Eddie's couch.

“It's actually a real pretty name, Edmundo. Don't know if I've ever told you I think that.”

“Don't think I've ever told you your eyelashes are kind of pretty, so that makes us even, I guess.”

Eddie smiles at Buck, big and genuine, and somehow it's so easy.

Buck smiles back. Looks a little confused, or pleased, or both. Eddie's not sure, but either is okay with him.

“Um, thanks?”

Eddie bites his tongue between his teeth in a poor effort to stop his grin turning positively goofy.

Buck takes it for what it is, and bats his eyelashes at Eddie, silly, and laughs.

His whole demeanor then changes as he finally settles properly into the couch and gifts his lungs with what might be the first proper breath he's taken since he arrived.

“Anyway, Evan is the worst of the three. It means yew, like the tree? Which is—it symbolises, like, spirituality, and rebirth and shit like that. 'S not really, uh, me, you know?”

“You mean like Evan isn't really you?”

Buck bites at his red, red lip again.

Eddie decides it'd taste like cherry Chupa Chups.

“Yeah. But it's—my name.”

“Except it isn't though, it's it?” Eddie reminds him. “You're name is Buck, Buck. You decided that.”

“I don't know why he always insisted on calling me Evan. Or why I just—let him. It was kind of weird.”

Tommy.

"Called? Past tense?” Eddie flips his tongue in his mouth. Breathes a little more deliberately.

Buck looks at his phone again before he's slowly placing it down on the couch between them.

His fingers are touching the outside of Eddie's thigh, and Eddie's suddenly acutely aware that he still isn't wearing any pants.

Buck leaves his hand where it is.

“He, uh, he dumped me. Because I—”

Buck sucks in oxygen, a lot of it, and holds it in his lungs before puffing out his cheeks as he makes a show of blowing it back out again.

“I asked him to move in with me.”

Eddie was not expecting either of those statements.

"Ouch.”

Buck's fingers twitch against Eddie's skin, and Eddie feels it travel right down his leg and into his toes, which curl involuntarily into the carpet.

“You wanna talk about it?” he offers, kind of knowing Buck doesn't. He will when he's ready.

“Not really.”

Eddie licks at his lips. They taste like beer, and a little like confidence.

“How about Buck?”

Buck looks at him, perplexed.

Eddie's leg is starting to cramp a bit.

He doesn't move it.

“A Buck is another name for a stag, right?” he continues. “And the stag symbolises strength and purity—

“Don't forget fertility” Buck is looking at Eddie, and it feels like something.

Eddie snorts. “'Course, don't wanna forget fertility.”

Buck smiles the first proper Buck smile of the evening, and Eddie's feels it in his chest.

“Hey, hang on, how come you know so much about stags, Edmundo?”

“You did that project with Chris about the forest.”

Buck blinks at him.

“Dude that was, like, years ago. And, as you said, I was the one learning all about the woodland creatures and different types berries and toadstools, so how do you—”

“Because you told me,” Eddie shrugs a shoulder.

Buck blinks some more.

“And you—remembered that?” he asks.

In this moment, Eddie couldn't blink, nor look away from Buck, even if somebody were to pay him.

“I remember everything you tell me.”

It's weird but it's like the air itself is crackling as they sit here, just staring at each other.

They look at each other for what feels like a long time. Or maybe it's just a single heartbeat, Eddie can't really be sure.

He watches as Buck swallows, his Adam's apple a calling card.

Eddie isn't entirely sure of why he thinks of that.

Until he is.

When Buck moves his hand, it's to slide it fully onto Eddie's thigh to just sit there, right at home.

Eddie's suddenly blinking so much he's a little worried he might be stroking.

He doesn't mean to say, “Can you smell toast?” but finds himself saying it anyway.

Buck smile is both crooked and adorable.

“You worried you're having a stroke, old man?”

“We'd have been at the same school at the same time, Buck. I'm not that much older than you.”

“You are old and I am young and everyone and the universe knows this,” Buck claims, cocky and sure of himself once more.

Eddie licks at his lips again.

“I, uh, I think I finally believe you.”

Buck now mirrors him, licking his own lips.

Cherry Chupa Chups.

“You mean about the universe?” he's asking, like he doesn't almost always knew what Eddie means.

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes.

Buck waits.

Just as Eddie is thinking he really should go put some on some sweats or something, Buck must get impatient because he replies, “I think it always wanted you to believe.”

Eddie doesn't have a clue what time it is, or whether he had dinner or not, or how he got so damn lucky.

“I'm gonna choose to believe, because you believe—and I believe in you, Buck” he says, somehow both sure and unsure of absolutely everything that is to come.

At long last, he finds he is totally okay with that.

“Anyways, I can hear it now,” he tells Buck, “and I'm listening.”

.

unedited; pls be kind!

.

edited version now found HERE on ao3 if you'd like to pop across and leave me a comment xp

[kisapmta]

aftermath | c. sturniolo

masterlist

summary: your cheating ex is back in boston for tour… what’s one more night together in the grand scheme of things?

pairing: christopher sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings: MDNI. slow build, mentions of cheating, unresolved angst, roughish smut?, penetrative sex, no protection, choking, everything about chris in this is out of character pls ik he would never

notes: creds to @vxnitra for the gif<3! and @wife-of-all-dilfs for the fic idea, go read bad idea, right? rn!

word count: 10.7k

—

“Dude just come, it won’t be the same without you.”

It’s Saturday night and you’re sprawled out on your bed, buried under the untouched assignment that has been staring back at you for three hours. Mikayla’s called, once again, as your latest distraction. 

Her heels click through the speaker as she paces her room getting ready for a party, one she’s trying to persuade you to join.

“I can’t, Mickey, I’m busy,” you say, although the excuse is unconvincing even to yourself. 

Her call interrupted the tik tok scroll you’d been lost in, a break you were taking from your third episode of Criminal Minds in a row. After she hangs up, you know you’ll be in the same spot until morning, assignment still untouched and all. 

Apparently she knows it too. 

“No you’re not, bitch.” You can hear her eyes roll as she drowns herself in perfume. “You have to go. Everyone’s gonna be there.”

You let out a quiet scoff and mumble under your breath. “Yeah, exactly why I’m not going.” 

Everyone includes the triplets, who are back in Boston for tour. 

Coming home isn’t an unusual visit for them, and actually, their return home used to be something you really looked forward to. Their visits meant long nights and too much laughter with best friends. 

It also meant time with Chris. With your lives split across the country, those week-long visits were your fleeting chances to be close to him, just the two of you, picking up where you left off months before.

But things aren’t the same anymore. Because unlike the love you held for Chris every other time they’ve visited, you absolutely despise him now. 

“I’m serious, ___, come,” Mikayla presses. “I’ll make sure you won’t have to talk to Chris, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Your phone slips from your grip and lands right on your nose. Even though your hatred for your ex is a universally known fact, like yeah, you would rather poke your eyes out than ever have to be in the same room as him again, she doesn’t have to say it out loud. Everyone knows you’re over it anyways. You roll onto your side, cradling the bridge of your nose that’s surely broken now.

“Dude I don’t give a fuck if he’s there or not, I’m just busy,” you reply, overly defensive. “I have to finish this paper.”

The shuffling around her room promptly comes to a halt. You can’t see her, but you know her eyebrow is raised. “Well damn, I didn’t know this paper suddenly meant so much to you,” she laughs, “it’s fine though, just stay home then I guess.”

“I mean it doesn’t but I wanna pass, don’t I?”

“Don’t know why you’re asking me but a night out’s never stopped you from passing before.” Her reply is absent minded. Her purse jingles through the speaker as she fills it with her lipgloss and keys.

You scoff and return to laying on your back, watching the clock tick and tick. You’ve never been one to pass on a night out, and with good luck and discipline through several hangovers, your grades have also never taken a hit. This paper’s no exception. The both of you know it. 

“I just haven’t even started yet,” you continue, glancing at the empty doc on your Mac. “And I have no idea what the fuck is going on in this chapter.”

“Dude, I said it’s fine. If you need to finish it, you can just come next time,” she replies, chuckling softly at the end.

For some reason, one you will not admit or name, her laughter bothers you. 

For some reason you take it personally when she insinuates you’re not actually busy, and it offends you that she doesn’t believe this paper is the reason you can’t go. 

And you know she’s just trying to be a good friend—that she called you with the sole intention to remind you that ‘we’re never gonna be this young and hot at this party again fuck your ex!’—but you can’t help the irritation bubbling in the middle of your chest. 

“I do need to finish it and you’re really distracting me so like.. are you done? Can you go?” 

Her mouth is hanging open when the line is silent for a few seconds. You instantly feel bad for snapping at her and you’re about to apologize when she replies. “Was just about to head out, so yeah. Hope you have fun with that.”

The call ends before you can even respond, leaving you feeling ridiculous and even more annoyed. You realize how dramatic you’re being, but your stubbornness doesn’t let you call back to say sorry right now. Instead, you toss your phone to the end of your bed.

Your room suddenly feels overwhelmingly quiet and Mikayla’s voice replays in your head, filling you with pure guilt. You groan and drag a hand over your face. 

The least you can do now is actually write your paper, so with a heavy sigh, you chug the remaining half of your Redbull and try to focus. It takes a few minutes for your regretful words to subside, but once they do, you fall into the assignment easily. 

Some time passes and your phone rings again at your feet. 

And see this is why you love Mikayla. As much as you guys bicker and clash, you both understand that it’s all with love. Your arguments last a day at most before one of you apologizes, and then it’s right back to your normal. 

Mindlessly you answer the phone and the last traces of your guilt dissolve. You take the chance to apologize to your friend. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you—”

“___.”

And that is not Mikayla. 

You recognize the voice instantly. It’s a sound you have spent the past five months trying to forget, along with the person attached to it—the perfect mess of curls, the most beautiful blue eyes, the deceiving smile of a mouth that knows every inch of your body.

You need to hang up, need to say ‘wrong number’ and end the call now. But for all your pride, all your carefully constructed walls, you don’t. 

“What do you want, Chris?” 

—

This isn’t the first time you’ve ever left the house late at night to make a horrible decision. Typically Mikayla and some other friends even tag along with you, but tonight they’re all at that party.

It’s a comforting fact, because if she knew where you were going right now she’d be scolding your ear off. Wouldn’t that suck? 

Sounds better than the way your own conscience won’t stop calling you a stupid fucking idiot. 

It’s almost midnight, but multicoloured lights still slip through the cracks of your roomies’ closed doors as you step into the hallway. 

Through the muffled walls you recognize ‘10 minute instant abs - no equipment required’ streaming from one room, and a vulgar, vulgar game of League happening in the other. At least the two of them are spending their night wisely. 

The sleepy hum of your house is broken by a third phone call of the night. It rings in your hand, and when you glance at the screen, you choke. Of course. It’s Mikayla. It’s like she knows you’re leaving.

“___!” she shouts. Her voice is scratchy and barely cuts through the heavy bass of music around her.

“Dude it’s so fucking loud,” you grimace, pulling the phone slightly from your ear. 

“What?! Dude it’s so fucking loud I can’t hear you.” 

Her response makes you laugh as you head out the front door, making sure you’re out of earshot from anyone in the house to reply a little louder. “Can you hear me now?” 

Not any softer, she replies, “Barely, yeah. Are you done with your paper?”

A cool breeze hits you as you cross the driveway to your car. 

“Not even close,” you say. Her question reminds you of your earlier apology—the one you started to the wrong person—so you try again. “Also I’m sorry I yelled at you about it earlier–”

“Stop, it's okay. Forget about the paper, that's not why I’m calling.” You’re cut short again, and her voice raises a little with excitement. “Chris isn’t here.” 

You pause. Maybe it’s the caffeine coursing your veins or simply pure adrenaline, but your heart skips at the mention of his name. The information doesn’t come as a surprise. You already know he’s not at the party, and in fact, you even know why. 

But you don’t tell her.

“Oh my god, wait really?” You cringe at the fake wonder in your voice. 

“Yeah, Nick said he’s not feeling well or something so he didn’t come,” her explanation is eager, along with her next words. “Fucking pussy.”

You chuckle awkwardly at her statement and slip into your driver’s seat. Before you can respond, she continues. “Just leave the paper for tomorrow and come.” Her words drag in a subtle beg. 

Under any other circumstance, her compelling argument would have worked. Girls night with no ex—the persuasion couldn’t be any simpler. 

The universe must be testing you, giving you a chance to walk away from self sabotage instead of straight into it like you are now. But you’re a stupid fucking idiot. So you lie.

“I don’t know Mickey, like I actually need to finish this paper.” Your stomach curls with guilt from how easily the words slip from your mouth. “I think I’m gonna stay home.”

She sighs. “You’re also a fucking pussy.”

Her words offend you a little, but they offset the guilt leveling in your stomach. You lie to her about Chris, she compares you to him. Same thing essentially. You try to laugh it off. “I know I’m sorry.” 

“I’m kidding, dude, it’s fine.” Despite how loud she’s still talking over the music, her tone is more understanding than it’s been all night. “Just wanted to double check on you, thought you might change your mind.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, knocking your head on the steering wheel. You feel so bad. “No don’t even worry about me,” you say through gritted teeth. “You have fun.”

She lets out a laugh. “Bitch tell that to yourself, I feel like I need to take a shot for you, you sound so stressed.”

And the universe must be mocking you.

“Please do, I really am.” 

Her heels click again and on the other end of the line, Mikayla’s already finding the bar. Oblivious to the actual source of your anxiety, she quickly shoos you away, “Okay yeah no, go finish your thing, you’re actually making me anxious.”

You wish she’d just stayed irritated with you a little longer and didn’t call. That way the only poor decision you’d be making tonight would be agreeing to meet up with your ex. A horrible idea in itself, sure, but at least you wouldn’t be lying to your best friend too. 

Too late to turn back on either now.

—

The drive from Somerville to the bus in Boston isn’t long, but it’s far enough for you to overthink everything. 

‘Nothing’s gonna happen,’ he said he only wants to talk. There’s no truth in his words and you know it, because unlike yourself, Chris has always been a very good liar. Those same words are the very reason you two broke up and they’re the source of all your hatred and suffering, but no matter how much you place him at fault for all your heartbreak, in hindsight, you realize you are also partly to blame…

The sun was shining bright through your bedroom window, warm but nothing like the arm Chris held around your waist. For the first time in two months, you woke up with him beside you in bed, and everything was perfect, and simple, and so, so deceiving. 

You were aimlessly scrolling through tik tok, keeping yourself entertained as Chris slept beside you when a specific post caught your attention. 

“Christopher Sturniolo finally confirms lucky mystery girl,” you read softly. It was classic clickbait. Dramatic and attention grabbing, and something a fan or follower would fall for if they didn’t know any better. With a chuckle, you swiped right. “Wonder who it is this time.”

Rumors weren’t hard to come by as Chris’s girlfriend. Fans had been suspicious of his hidden relationship for months now. 

And yes, they were always onto something with the boys. There was the car accident death hoax a couple years back, and the monthly ‘omg they’re quitting they hate us fuck im gonna kms’ allegations. Usually nonsense. 

But for once, although they didn’t know it was with you, they were right that he was in love. 

Chris never confirmed nor denied the rumors. As much as you wished he would; wished he would claim you with a kiss or hold your hand in public, he always chose to prioritize your peace. Any trace of your relationship was kept hidden from the internet, buried in the safety of real life. Its existence belonged only to you, Chris, and the few people you both trusted most. 

You told yourself that was enough. That in the quiet, away from jealous envy-filled eyes, every kiss and every hug and every ‘I love you’ you shared meant more. That privacy made it sacred. That what was hidden was more real, more honest. 

So when you swiped right, you expected nothing more than the usual—maybe him in a fan edit with one of his friends, or a silly AI photo kissing a stranger he’s never met before. You thought it would be anything but this. 

You were staring at a paparazzi picture. The shot was a little grainy and taken from far away, but the unreleased Fresh Love cap on his head was crystal clear, holding back his hair as he sat in a hot tub with his brothers, a couple friends, and a girl on his lap. 

The hairs on your arms instantly stood tall. 

You recognized her. She was the one in their most recent photo dump, the one in the background of their January vlog, the one Chris always defended when fans would send hate for simply being in their presence. She was the one he claimed was just a friend. 

You scanned the picture carefully, because you thought maybe you were missing a detail or your brain was playing a funny trick, but the longer you stared at it, the more you noticed. 

His arm was wrapped comfortably around her waist, and she smiled at him with crimson red lips that were slightly smudged along the edges. The remnants of it were painted along Chris’s lips and neck. 

And suddenly, you felt so uncomfortable in his grip. The weight of his arm was suffocating, holding you the same way he was holding her. 

“Chris, wake up,” you said. Your voice was steady despite the tears you felt already welling in your eyes. 

He hummed and stirred for a second, but tightened his grip as he replied. “It’s so early, baby…” 

It was a nickname he’d been calling you for 3 years now, but hearing it in that moment made you feel so dirty. Like the meaning of it was rotten, and calling you it poisoned your stomach entirely. You wanted to vomit. 

“Please, Chris,” you insisted, a little more firmly this time, pushing his arm from your waist. 

He rolled over on his back, and the second he let go, you sat up. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, more alert now with your unusually distant movements. 

You looked at him. He was sitting up now too, genuine concern laced through his tired eyes. For a second you opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Because asking Chris ‘are you cheating on me?’ felt so outrageous and wrong. 

Instead you looked to your lap at the photo on your phone. A tear landed on the screen when you blinked, and you took a deep breath before turning it to him. 

“Who is this?” You asked hesitantly. 

You watched the colour drain from his skin when his eyes finally focused. He strained his neck forward and his brows furrowed, like he was also trying to confirm what he was seeing. “Oh it’s not what it looks like, nothing happened, I promise—“

You cut him off. “But why is she on your lap?”

“She’s just a friend,” he replied, like reflex. It didn’t answer your question at all and it made your vision blur. He was still defending her, against you of all people.  

“So you just let all your friends sit there?” The back of your throat was burning—obvious in the way your voice broke at the end. 

“No…” he started, “it was just this one time I swear,” then amended, finishing with another excuse. He didn’t even sound like he was being defensive, but like he actually believed that made it okay.

You gave him a hopeless, watery laugh. “Is that her lipstick on your neck?” 

Chris’s mouth fell open at the question. He stared at you for a second then looked at the picture once more. The detail was small and hard to see at first glance, but you caught the flicker of regret in his features the moment he noticed it. 

His expression fell when he looked back to you, waiting for his reply. His eyes shifted between yours, and the silence stretched a little longer before he sighed. He didn’t have another excuse.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. 

Although you were prying the words from his lips, needing to hear him admit it himself, your heart cracked at his apology. You were already so close to losing it, so close to breaking, and the confession made your tears fall over the edge. 

Chris’s heart began to race at the sight of your tears. “___ I’m sorry, I never meant for it to get this far.” He said quickly, remorse clear in his voice as he instinctively tried to wipe your eyes. 

But the brush of his thumb against your cheek made you flinch away, your brain catching on his words. “This far?” You asked, brows pinching. “How far exactly has this gotten?”

His face pulled into one of guilt at the recognition of what he’d just admitted. He began to shake his head and his mouth parted a few times before his shoulders rose in a hopeless way. He couldn’t bring himself to lie again, and he feels bad when he tells you the truth. “It’s been six months.”

A single scoff of disbelief passes through your lips. 

Now you always imagined that if you ever found yourself in this position, being cheated on, that you would simply get up and walk away. Infidelity is more than enough reason to move on. 

So while your brain was yelling at you to leave him there and that he didn’t deserve your tears, the biggest part of your heart, the part that loved Chris, was fighting so hard to deny it.  

It frustrated you, because you really didn’t want to be crying. You were doing your best to keep it together because you weren’t pathetic. You were not going to beg for a spot in his life. But you couldn’t help your tears, and that only made them fall more.

You had to stand up from the bed and face away from him. Like looking up at the ceiling was the only way to stop your eyes. Feelings of defeat and anger and betrayal continued to splinter painfully through your heart.

After a deep breath, you finally spoke. “Did she know about me?” 

It was self-sabotage to even ask. 

You just thought that maybe—if she kissed him knowing he had a girlfriend, if he held her while she knew you existed—then that would have to mean that she agreed to be the second option. That even though there were two of you, Chris still picked you first. That this whole time, he really was hiding you for your peace, and not just hiding you from her. 

“No, she didn’t,” he replied with a sigh. 

It was the response you were expecting but you still exhaled pain. How could you be so naive?

You squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head. “Were you ever gonna tell me?” 

Chris got up from the bed and took a tentative step to stand behind you. 

He was going to tell you, he really was. Guilt gnawed at his mind constantly. He always told himself he would come clean the next time he saw you, that you deserved to hear it face to face at the very least. But then next time would come and the week would be so perfect together, and he’d end up on the plane back to LA telling himself the same thing once again. Next time.

He knew it was no excuse, so he stayed silent. 

The quiet pulled violently at the knot in your gut.

“So how long were you planning to lie?” You asked. You could feel clips of anger start to replace the sadness in your chest, your voice coming out a little harsher than before.

“I’m sorry—“

A defeated sigh escaped your lips. “Stop apologizing,” you said, tilting your head back. “How long were you gonna lie to me?” 

Behind you, his own eyes began to sting. “I was going to tell you, I swear… I just… things got complicated.” 

It was a worthless response, yet you paused to let his explanation sink in. You were trying to see his point of view. Not because what he did was okay, you just wanted to understand why he thought hurting you for this long was. 

From every angle you looked at it, the reality of the situation was that he was simply wrong. 

“No it couldn’t have been that hard, Chris,” you tell him, a little desperately because he should have known that. 

“You could’ve ended things with me. You could’ve told me when it started. You could’ve come clean when you realized what you were doing wasn’t just a mistake. This was all a choice. Like you chose this.” 

Cheating was so easily avoidable. 

So when you turned to face him and were met with his own glossy eyes, the sight clouded your vision with anger. You couldn’t help your scoff of laughter or the words that followed. “Why the fuck are you crying?”

Chris winced at the venom in your voice. He rolled his lips between his teeth and stayed quiet. A single tear slipped down his cheek. 

You took a step closer. “Say something, like you don’t get to cry. You’re the one who fucking did this. You’re the one who lied.” 

You didn’t really know what you wanted him to say, but his silence was triggering. Because it felt like he was protecting himself, or like he didn’t really care about the conversation, or like he was relying on you to fix his mistake. 

Your own eyes were now pouring freely with tears. 

“I trusted you. I never questioned you because I fucking trust you, Chris. I never doubted you when you said she was just a friend. I never wanted to hold you back from the life you guys have built down there.” 

You shoved a finger at his chest with every sentence, piercing every word through his skin. Even though these were your decisions, you needed him to realize how unfair this was to you. 

“And you just came back every time. You pretended like nothing was wrong. You kissed me. You slept in my bed.” You looked at him for a moment. “Like how many times did we fuck just for you to go sleep with her too?” The words were hissed with so much hatred, the kind you could only feel after so much love— “Every time you said you loved me, when did you stop meaning that?”

His hands cupped your cheeks at those words, and this time you didn’t pull away from his touch. His composure was breaking and it was written all over his face, how much it hurt him to hurt you, even though his actions were intentional all this time. 

“I never stopped ___, I do love you.” he whispered.

“No I love you Chris.” You corrected him, begging him to understand. “I love you. I never would have done this to you.”

You stared at each other for a long second. You could see everything in his face now—regret, panic, guilt, grief. But that didn’t make it enough.

“I don’t know how you could do this to me, and mean it when you say you love me…”

The steering wheel is cold under your palms, a single tear slipping down your cheek at the memory. Maybe this is a really bad idea. Nothing good is going to come from seeing him again.

You should just go home.

—

You knock on the bus door.

It echoes around the empty parking lot of the venue and you feel immediate regret, like the sound of it has finally knocked some sense into you, too. 

Silence hangs in the air for about a minute before you sigh heavily and glance at your surroundings. You don’t know what you’re looking for exactly. Perhaps a bear or maybe a house fire. Any reason to get away from this bus. But the area is calm and still and quiet as ever.

When a cool breeze flows through your hair, irritation swells through your chest. 

“Is he actually serious right now?” You mutter under your breath. 

You cross your arms against the cold and take a step back to look through the window for any sign of movement. Even though it’s tinted, the lights seem to be off inside. 

You huff and knock again. This time the banging can surely be heard from inside, yet after a couple seconds, there’s still no response. Your irritation quickly becomes restless. 

Of course he would do this. 

Of course he made you drive all the way down here. He made you ditch all your friends and your stupid paper and made you waste all your gas to stand outside this bus like an idiot. This is such a waste of time. This is all his fault. If he wasn’t a lying asshole it wouldn’t be so cold and windy right now, and you could be doing literally anything else but—

“___,” Chris calls from behind.

You flinch out of your thoughts and your heart instantly picks up in pace. 

It’s a natural fight or flight response, only your body can’t tell if it’s from being startled, or from standing in the presence of your cheating ex for the first time in five months. Against your instincts, you turn towards the source. 

Fuck. 

He’s even more gorgeous than the last time you saw him. 

He’s wearing sweats and a light stubble shadows his face, yet somehow he still looks clean and put together. His curls have grown slightly, and maybe it’s just the cause of five months of time, but the scruff makes him look a little older. 

On his feet, he’s wearing boots. They’re big and black and you’ve never seen him wear them before. But you can recognize Balenciagas, and they’ve made his presence so tall as he strides towards you—frantically and rushed. 

“Sorry, were you waiting long? I had to drop off Nick and Matt,” he starts explaining, “would’ve just made them uber or something if I knew how busy downtown is right now.”

The cool air becomes slightly dense with tension when he reaches your side. It’s not entirely uncomfortable, it feels familiar, just somewhat tainted. 

“Couple minutes,” you reply, keeping the rest of your thoughts about his punctuality to yourself. 

You hug your sweater tighter around your body like a make-shift shield against the cold, but also against him. The zipper suddenly catches your interest. Fiddling with it helps you avoid eye contact by making you look occupied.

“Right,” he nods. Silence settles between the two of you for a second, before he thinks of another thing to say, “how was the drive?”

Despite the ease in his voice, you can tell he’s nervous too. 

Chris stands before you, stiff and looking at the ground beneath his feet. Similarly evading your gaze just like you’re doing with his. He’s clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides before he shoves them deep into his pockets. 

Looking back, you feel like you did so much of the talking that morning in your bedroom. Probably too much, if you’re being honest. You feel like you never really gave yourself the time to hear his side or a proper chance to take in his apology. It’s the closure you’re missing. 

So this time, you want him to do most of the talking. Want him to actually give you answers, at the very least. Of all the things you deserve after everything he put you through, an explanation for his actions feels like the bare minimum.

Which is why you don’t sound very enthusiastic when you finally reply, “so you called me here for small talk?” 

Chris pokes his tongue to his cheek at your stubborn, slightly irritated tone.

“You’re the one who called. You’re ditching your own party,” you wave your hand at him, indicating you want him to get on with it. “Must have something important to say.”  

A staring contest ensues as you force yourselves to look at each other. Your stomach shrivels over the awkwardness and a slight twinge of pain cramps your heart. It never used to be this hard to look at him. 

"Yeah, it is important," he claims, voice low. 

For a second, he thinks about staying quiet, because he doesn’t really know how to go about the conversation at this point. But he reminds himself he can’t. Not anymore. For whatever sliver of decency he has left, he needs to say something. 

"I wanted to apologize to you."

You cast your eyes down, fixing them once again on your zipper. Cold air stings your lungs when you take a deep breath and ask, “are you still with her?” 

The question leaves your mouth before you can rethink it. You ask because you know what it’s like for him to lie to you. And if he’s still with her, if she has no idea he’s here with you, you’re not about to be part of it again. 

His eyes flicker with shame, but he shakes his head. 

“No,” he says bluntly. “Swear to god I told her everything. That same day, I told her about us… about everything. It was over after that.”

You roll your lips between your teeth and nod slowly. The motion feels mechanical. Like your body knows it’s the expected thing to do, even if your heart is somewhere else entirely.

It should’ve made you feel better to hear him say that. That he ended it. That he told her the truth. She deserved to know, too, at the very least. 

But your stomach still twists. Because none of it undoes what he did. None of it changes the fact that he cheated on you.

You try to keep your face more or less neutral when you look back up at him. Then once again, like months before, you start looking for answers. "Why did you do it?"  

Chris’s jaw tightens at the question and he brings a hand through his hair. You know he’s fighting for the right thing to say, brows pinching as he thinks intently for an answer you deserve. Yet everything seems to fall short.

Still, he tries.

"I don’t know," he says quietly, voice unstable, "I wish I had something better to give you than that, but... I don’t."

You nod and you stay silent. Your gaze presses heavy on him, forcing him to continue.

"I think I was just scared," he eventually admits, shifting his weight between his heels. "I didn’t know how to deal with everything– the distance, I mean. Things were getting so busy with youtube and we couldn’t come home as often anymore." 

It’s not an excuse, yet pesky pinpricks of tears sting the back of your eyes. You’re not entirely sure why. You know you don’t feel bad for him. Maybe it’s just the weight of everything hitting you all at once, finally hearing an explanation for a situation you’ve spent the past five months trying so hard not to blame yourself for. 

"I felt like… I don’t know, I felt so alone," he concedes, "and instead of talking to you about it, I wanted something easy. And seeing her didn’t scare me as much."

The words almost feel worse than if he just kept lying or said nothing at all. 

You didn’t know what to expect coming here tonight, but you hadn’t planned on feeling this wound again. So raw and fresh. But here it is, clawing its way up your throat, constricting any ability for you to speak. Any ability for you to stop him.

So he keeps going. 

"I regret it," he says, voice cracking under the truth. "Every second. I regret everything I did to you. I regret not telling you sooner. I regret ever hurting you the way I did in the first place."

He inhales a shaky breath, taking a step closer.

"It’s just.. I'm hurting too,” he finishes softly. He hopes that if he says it quietly enough, it won’t sound like an insult.

You let out a breathless laugh in response. Nothing is funny. Everything he said is just so wildly unfair.

A heavy silence settles between you. It gives you a second to think, to consider what you even want to say. How vulnerable you’re willing to get. Your mouth opens before you even get to decide.

“Being with her scared you less than talking to me...” you repeat, more as a statement than a question. 

Chris doesn’t have to hear you say any more to know you’re hurt once again. The tone of your voice is unsure, and the pain in it is elusive, but he knows. Of course he does. You were together for years, he knew you better than anyone else at one point in time. 

So as hard as you try to hide behind a veil of composure, he easily pinpoints the cadence of sadness in your words, “...and you think you’re hurting?”

“I am. I miss you everyday, I feel horrible.” 

Such a sick, grossly feeling comes over you. 

"Yeah but not like me," you start, hot tears brimming to the forefront of your eyes. "You’re hurting because you feel guilty. I'm hurting because you let me believe I was right to trust you."

Despite wanting to meet his eyes and seem untouched by what he did, you can’t. Despite how badly you want to prove you’re past this, that you’ve healed and grown and it doesn’t hurt so bad anymore, the truth is, it does. 

“I couldn’t eat for weeks afterwards. I couldn’t leave my bed. I cried everyday,” you tell him.

You don’t mean to undermine his feelings and you’re not trying to ask for pity. But you just need him to understand that the pain he’s feeling is self-inflicted, and cannot compare to the involuntary suffering he’s put you through. 

“I feel like I'm never gonna be able to trust someone again, and I hate you for it.” 

And you know Chris, too. Know exactly which of his buttons to push. Reminding him that he had someone who loved him completely, and he ruined them in return, will hurt him exactly how you want it to.

He winces at your words. 

He knows he should explain. 

Say sorry.

Beg, if he has to.

But he can’t seem to get a single thought out.

It’s like the apology he’s spent months rehearsing is stuck somewhere deep in his chest. Weighed down by everything he’s done, and by the unbearable truth of how much he’s broken you in ways he can never take back.

All he can do is stand there and hope you give him a second. And maybe another. Just enough time to try and pull himself together, even though he’s already been given so many chances, and has wasted every single one.

In the few seconds that pass, you wipe your cheeks with your sleeves, blinking hard and furious at yourself for letting your tears fall. Then for the briefest, most fleeting moment, your expression softens.

It’s barely there. So quick, but he doesn’t miss it, the tiniest crack in the wall you’ve built up between you two.

He knows it’s not forgiveness. He’s foolish, but not enough to believe that you could ever forgive him again. It’s just like there’s still a part of you, buried under all the pain, that is still showing him the most undeserved compassion. Beneath everything he ruined, there’s still a part of you that wishes things could be different. 

Chris gets caught up in it. In the glimpse of what he thinks he sees, in the small chance of reconciliation that he has no right to hold onto. So much so that he almost misses it when it slips away. 

Your shoulders slump. Your chest caves in. And whatever fragile hope he sees on your face collapses into disappointment.

He knew you would still be sad. He knew you’d be hurt and he was prepared, or at least he thought he was, to stand here tonight and take responsibility for all the ways he let you down.

But he wasn’t ready for this.

Wasn’t ready for the way you seem to turn all your sadness inwards. Wasn’t ready for the way you look at yourself, and not at him, like you are the one who made the mistake. Like the real shame isn’t what he did, but that you let yourself come here and believe things would be any different.

Chris stands useless and silent when you shake your head in defeat. 

He’s frozen, until you turn to walk away.

“Wait, don’t–” he stops, voice cracking open between you.

His hand is around your wrist before you can step back, eliciting a small gasp from your lips as he pulls you close. He’s suddenly towering over you, the warmth of his body surrounding yours entirely, his breath fanning small puffs of fog in the cold. “I’m sorry, ___.”

You dare yourself to look into his eyes. You couldn’t tell from a distance, but face to face you can see now that they’re red-rimmed from fighting his own stubborn tears. “I just needed to see you one more time,” he says.

You blink.

The finality of his statement shifts the weight of the atmosphere instantly. 

His gaze burns, and it becomes a stark contrast to the air that seems to have turned to ice around you. Tension starts to crackle in the small space between your bodies. 

The same pull that once made it so easy to fall for him hits you all over again, and despite the effort you’ve made to forget it over time, resisting it now feels useless. 

You know you shouldn’t give in, you know you need to leave him here now, but trying to fight such a magnetic force seems impossible when his hold has ignited an ache in your body for the connection—for his touch. 

What’s one more time in the grand scheme of things?

You swallow hard, heart racing in your ears. “Well I’m right here, aren’t I?” You test. “Small talk not enough for you?”

Once again, he’s silent. His gaze flickers between your eyes, searching for the meaning behind your words. He can’t understand completely, but when he loosens the grip on your wrist and you don’t pull away, he becomes a little more sure of his movements. 

When he speaks again, he counters. “Say you don’t want this, and I’ll let you walk away.” His voice is low, barely above a whisper, but he doesn’t move back. 

Instead he leans in even closer, like he already knows you won’t say no. You can see it written all over his face. The faux concern. The way he’s making it seem like you have an option in this when he has already decided for you. You can feel it in the heat radiating off his touch, moving his hand from your wrist to the nape of your neck. And because he knows you, he’s right.

On instinct, you tilt your head upwards, surrendering permission.

Only he needs to hear you say it.

“Please, ___,” he whispers, “Tell me you want this too.”

For a second, you almost hold out. 

For a second, you remember everything he’s done. Everything he ruined. Everything he doesn’t deserve.

But then your mind betrays your heart before you can second guess it, and the words slip past your lips.

“I want you, Chris.”

You barely finish speaking before he’s on you. 

There's no hesitation, no second chance to take it back. His lips catch your own and are burning with longing and desire, obvious in the way he wraps you up in his arms and practically merges your body with his. Your nerves light with need under his touch, muddling your thoughts and all your pride along with it. 

This is so wrong. 

Chris is your ex for a reason. Going back to him, even just for tonight, is the lowest betrayal you could inflict on yourself. But as your hands pull him closer, as his lips part so easily for you, as adrenaline and lust bleed into every frantic movement you share, you’re willing to abandon every last one of your morals in exchange for just five more minutes in his arms.

You don’t know who moves first. Whether you’re dragging him or he’s steering you. But you’re moving, stumbling blindly into the bus without ever breaking apart. The second you’re inside, he’s kicking the door shut behind him without even looking, sealing you both in the heavy, intoxicating heat of the hallway that has nothing to do with the temperature.

You both strip off your sweaters and kick your shoes aside without a word, urgency pulsing between you, just before he pushes you flush against the coat hanger closet. A gasp slips from your lips at the cold on your back. You can already feel the familiar pulse between your thighs throb more and more as a wet patch dampens your panties, exposing how much you crave this. You know he feels it too. His sweats leave little to the imagination.

Your hand slips between your bodies on instinct, trailing your nails down his stomach until your fingers dip beneath the waistband of his pants. 

Chris groans into your mouth the second you wrap your hand around him. The sound is so raw and so desperate and it shoots directly through your spine. His hips jerk against your touch, chasing the friction. He’s sticky against your palm as you pump him once more, slow and deliberate, just to hear him curse under his breath again.

“Fuck,” you whimper. 

You squeeze your thighs together at the way he feels, because in your palm, Chris is so hard. His cock is thick, and long. It’s pulsing, twitching sometimes when you touch him in the ways you remember he likes. 

He brings his hand to your wrist once again, urging you to grip him tighter, stroke him faster. “Just like that,” he moans.

His mouth hangs open and you look down. You can’t see much in the dimly lit space of the bus, but you can tell how badly he wants this. The way he gets impossibly harder in your palm, the wetness that taints your thumb every time you brush over the tip—it’s all a complete giveaway. His breath comes in deep pulls, his chest heaving against yours.

You bring your lips along his jaw until he’s tilting his head, exposing his neck for you to place a wet kiss along the column of his throat.  

��Do you pretend other girls are me when they touch you like this?” You ask, the question coming out airy and light with arousal. “I know they don’t even come close to how you feel when you’re inside me.”

Chris’s stomach tenses and contracts at the perfect sound of your voice. In his state, his pride has also faded, so he doesn’t stop himself when he admits, “there haven’t been any other girls…since that day I haven’t– wait, I–.” He pauses, squeezing your wrist slightly to try and slow your movements. “Fuck, slow down– I’ll cum.”

Your pussy throbs at the confession. “Yeah?” You hum. Your other hand slips between his legs to fondle his balls. A gasp falls from his lips, and despite his oppositions, he spreads his legs wider for you, angling his hips so you can touch him better. “Too guilty to move on?”

His breath continues to fall short and ragged by your ear. His free hand finds its way to your hip for support as you suck on the warmth of his neck, pulling a groan from his throat that buzzes against your lips. 

“___,” he says, voice strained. The call of your name is a warning, but he’s not even really sure what for. Is he trying to stop you before he comes like a horny teen? Or is he begging for more, so for the first time in months, he can finally finish in a hand that’s not his own?

You grin against his skin, pressing a soft kiss to his neck once more before pulling away to look up at him. Your brows instinctively pinch together, mirroring the way his are pulled tight in pleasure. You can’t help but mock him again. 

“Can’t believe you threw this all away for her.”  

The reminder causes frustration to blaze through his aroused eyes and it only turns you on more. Before you can stroke him again, he grabs your wrists and rips your hands from his pants, spinning you around in one harsh motion. 

You gasp as your chest hits the wall with a dull thud. His body pins yours in place, hard cock grinding against the curve of your ass through your clothes.

“You think I don’t get it?” he pants into your ear.

Chris’s lips harshly meet the side of your neck before you can even respond, making your breaths go up in pitch as his hands move all over your body. One of his palms settles over your tit, fingers kneading through the lacy fabric of your bra before pinching your nipple tight between his fingertips. The other drags around your waist, slipping into your waistband and finding your soaked pussy with no hesitation.

You cry out when two fingers thrust inside you without warning.

“I regret it everyday,” he mutters, fingers curling deep inside you at a relentless pace. The sound of your wetness echoes in the cramped space around you. “She got to be seen, while I kept this—you—hidden.” 

His hand leaves your breast and moves to your throat, firm and steady, pressing just enough to leave you dizzy.

“I should’ve shown them,” he hisses. “Should’ve let the whole fucking world see who you are when you fall apart for me.” He pushes his fingers deeper. “Nobody knows you only come apart like this for me, no?”

Your walls clench around his fingers, pulling them even further inside. Your tits press harder into the wall, crushed against the surface. The friction of your bra rubbing against your nipples sparks a jolt of heat through your body at each shift. His cock throbs against your ass from behind, and the hand at your throat tightens just enough to make the edges of your vision blur.

He knows your body so well.

Knows exactly how to unravel you. 

And he knows no one else has ever even come close.

Chris drives his fingers into you harder, dragging a shattered moan from your throat. “Tell me I’m wrong,” he growls.

The pad of his thumb is suddenly pressing into your clit and your entire body is overcome with chills. He works direct pressure in circular motions, keeping the stimulation pinpointed as his fingers continue to fuck you. Your knees buckle forward and hit the wall in front of you. You sigh and nod against the hand around your neck. 

“It’s just you, Chris,” you whine. “Only you.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Your eyes fall shut as his fingers pump in and out of you, and you lean your head back against his chest. Your hips seem to have a mind of their own as they grind against his palm, matching his pace and chasing your high. Your moans begin to raise in pitch, and the familiar feeling quickly closes in, coiling tight in your lower belly. 

Just as you’re about to fall apart, Chris pulls his fingers from you, slipping out of your soaked panties with no warning. The sudden loss of friction makes the edge slip from your grasp and your orgasm fades into nothing. All that’s left is a pulsing ache and a frustration buzzing beneath your skin, sharp and unbearable.

You turn around, still breathless and flushed. Against the wall, Chris is leaning back like he has all the time in the world. His fingers glisten in the low light, and instead of wiping them clean, he brings them to his mouth, sucking them slow, like he’s tasting the proof of what you still are to him.

His eyes never leave yours. They burn with something between arrogance and hunger, daring you to say you don’t want more.

But you do.

“What the fuck, Chris?” You snap, shoving him hard in the chest. Aggravated tears fill instantly in your eyes. This is so cruel. “Fuck you!”

“Fuck me?” he murmurs, voice low and sharp. “You already look like you’re about to.”

A frustrated cry leaves your lips when you shove him again, once, and then twice, but he catches your wrists before you can hit him a third time. He yanks you into him and his mouth is on yours immediately, kissing you with a rough breathless urgency. You try to resist, pushing against his chest and writhing out of his grip. 

But eventually your body surrenders.

Because you still want this. You still need this, even after all that he’s said and done. And you hate yourself for how much you do.

Your arms wrap around his neck before you can stop yourself. The space between your bodies disappears, hips and chests aligned in a rhythm that neither of you can control. His hands are everywhere. Sliding up your sides, grabbing at your waist, curling into every inch of your skin. Lust is tangible in the air, just pouring from you both into the filthy atmosphere. 

His earlier words suddenly echo in your mind—‘I just needed to see you one more time.’ At the thought that this is never going to happen again, your kisses turn frantic and hard. Chris moves between your lips and your neck, glistening marks tainting here, there, everywhere. Soft moans shamelessly leave his lips, rough breath hitting your skin like he can’t get enough. He toys with the clasp of your bra, thinking about twisting it open but ends up leaving it alone. One track mind, taking over. 

The two of you move blindly through the narrow hallway, stumbling over a backpack and a case of water abandoned on the floor. You bump into a counter and something falls to the ground behind you, maybe a bottle or a decoration but neither of you flinch, never once breaking apart. 

You barely realize how far you’ve moved until your back hits the edge of something sturdy. You flinch at the impact, sucking in a breath as your fingers grip the surface behind you. Chris looks down, recognizing the dining table, but his attention doesn’t linger. His gaze flicks back to yours, and then he kisses you again, slower this time, like the chaos is settling into something heavier.

His hand comes to your hip, firm.

“Turn around,” he says.

And without thinking, you do.

He’s behind you now, the heat of his body unmistakable at your back. You try not to be eager, but your soaked pussy aches, making your movements crude as you roll your hips back against him, impatiently asking for whatever he’s going to do next. 

Chris doesn’t move at first. He just lets you grind against him, like he’s studying how badly you want it. How shameless you’ve become under his hands. Then, without a word, his palm drags up the back of your thigh, firm and slow, until it slips between your legs. He cups your pussy through your panties, fingers pressing into the damp fabric, and lets out a low exhale right against your ear.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he points out, running a finger over your clothed folds.

The pet name accidentally slips from his lips and makes you buzz, but you can only moan in response. There’s no point in denying how bad you want him when he can feel it, how you’re past the point of resistance, ready to give in just like he says you are. Like you both know you are.

He trails his fingers up your stomach, tracing a line up your torso, leaving heat in its wake, before reaching your shoulder. He pushes your hair aside and presses a kiss to the exposed skin.

Chris’s hand spreads wide between your shoulder blades and he pushes you down, bending you over the solid edge until the plush swell of your tits pillow against the table. The wood is cool against your chest, a sharp contrast to the heat pooling beneath your skin. He drags his fingertips lower, skimming the length of your spine until he reaches the waistband of your sweats. In one swift motion, he slides them down with your panties, making them gather at your ankles.

The cool air brushes over your bare skin and pulls a shaky breath of anticipation from your lips. Behind you, Chris settles his hands on your hips for a moment, biting his lip on a soft moan as his eyes train on your cunt. The way it clenches mindlessly around nothing, so wet and ready and perfect from his fingers alone. He could cum at the sight.

Oh, he’s missed this.

His hands briefly leave your side and you hear the low rustle of fabric behind you, then the dull sound of his sweats hit the floor. Your breathing stutters, shallow and uneven, the nerves hitting you all at once now that there’s nothing left between you. One of Chris’s palms finds your hip again, grounding you in place, while the other wraps around his cock.

He doesn’t speak.

He doesn’t have to.

The tension says everything. This is happening because you both want it. Because you both need it.

Your next breath catches in your throat, and just like that, Chris slides between your folds. In one smooth, unforgiving push, he fills you completely, and it’s good. So mind-numbingly good. The moans that fall from your lips are synced, pleasure clear in how lewd and loud and so relieved you both sound. 

When he moves, he doesn't ease into it. He starts hard and fast, like neither of you have time to waste. Your palms press flat into the table as your body begins to jolt forward with the force of his thrusts.

With Chris inside of you, you almost let yourself forgive his mistakes. His stroke is so good and skilled, making you feel every inch of him every time he makes your hips meet. Pussy swallowing his cock, wet and slick. You never want him to leave, never want him to stop fucking you.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, barely able to breathe.

Your body takes him like it never learned how to forget. Like it was waiting, tight, raw, and desperate for him. You spent months trying to fuck the memory out of yourself, hoping someone else could pull this from you. But nobody did. They barely scratched the surface.

Chris moves like he built the map. Every thrust hits deep. And it’s not just the stretch or the fullness. It’s the way he fits, the way he serves you, like your body was made to be fucked by him.

You’ve tried to mimic this with your own hands, but it was always a weak substitute for his cock. Nothing—not toys, not other men—ever came close. It was always shallow. Always empty. Chris has this way of hitting places you didn’t know existed, of filling you so completely that it borders on unbearable.

And now that he’s inside you again, it has all come back at once. It’s a rush. Like a drug relapse. Hot, heavy, all-consuming. This isn’t just pleasure. It’s need.

Your fingers claw at the edge of the wood, desperate for something to hold as he drives into you so well, cock dragging against every pulse and ridge of your tight walls. You’re stretched to your limit, stuffed full with no room to breathe.

“Fuck,” he grits out between thrusts. “You always feel so good around me.”

Chris’s pleasure has never been quiet. He’s shameless when he lets out sharp breaths, low groans, and the occasional whimper when you used to edge him just to watch him fall apart. He didn’t mind when you took control. Sometimes he liked it.

But not now.

Now you’re bent over, hands braced against the table while he fucks you hard and without pause. There’s no pretending who’s in charge. He’s got you exactly how he wants you.

And it feels insane how much you need it.

“Please,” you beg. “It feels so good, Chris, please. Don’t stop.”

Your words cause Chris to groan and shudder. His cock throbs, you can feel it jerk inside you. He has to slow down for just a moment, before he picks back up again, grabbing your hips and dragging you back into him, slamming deeper with every thrust. 

The guttural sound it pulls from your throat isn’t controlled. You don’t even try to hold it in. He hears his name, rough and desperate, and it only makes him fuck you harder.

He leans over you, strokes long and consistent, his chest brushing against your back. His lips are hot against your skin and suck along your shoulder in a way that’s more bruising than soft. After leaving a mark, he trails his mouth on the curve of your neck, then nips at your earlobe, making your whole body twitch.

One of his hands slides up and curls gently around your throat again. He draws you upright with him. Your back is flush to his chest, making your breathing shallow as the pressure sharpens your focus. Standing makes the angle deeper. Everything feels closer, heavier, like your body’s one touch away from unraveling.

“Fuck– I’m so close,” you moan.

You didn’t have to tell him. The tight clench of your walls around his cock is painfully familiar; Chris can tell. 

But at your words, his rhythm shifts and his thrusts increase in vigor, like he wants to push you there faster. Your breath shortens at the change, body tightening with every snap of his hips. Then his hand moves, sliding down your stomach and between your legs without warning.

When his fingers find your clit, everything stutters. Your back arches, your body pressing into his as your legs threaten to give out beneath you. His arm tightens around your middle and neck, holding you up like he already knew you'd fold.

He rubs your core quick and rough. Side to side with sharp pressure, right where it matters. Your moans rise, breath catching high in your throat as your stomach coils tighter, heat blooming low and fast.

Your pussy clenches around him, fluttering with each thrust, your body working against itself to keep up with how fast he's pulling you under.

“Cum, baby,” he coaxes into your ear. You can hear how much he struggles to hold back his own release as he talks. “Come on, you’re almost there. I can feel you.”

The slap of his hips is as loud as your moans, his words doing something insane to your body. You nod without thinking and reach back to hook your arm around his neck, needing something solid to hold onto. The pressure coils tighter in your gut, sharp enough to make your eyes squeeze shut, your grip around his neck locking down hard enough to almost choke him.

The hand at his neck surges another rush through his movements, and somehow Chris finds it in him to give you more. He digs in, moving into you faster, putting every last bit of strength into each brutal thrust.

Every second is faster than the last, wrecking your rhythm, tearing you closer to the edge without any way to pull back.

He sounds wrecked too. His breathing is loud and broken, groans ripping straight from his chest as he fucks into you without slowing down.

You’re right there. So close you can feel the crash coming.

He just needs to tighten his around your throat like this. Tear his fingers over your clit like that. Press his cock into that one spot deep inside you, over and over, merciless and exact until–

"Oh my god, I'm gonna cum–" you gasp out, words breaking apart.

It hits all at once. The overwhelming, devastating pressure in your stomach finally snaps, burning through you with a rush.

Your mouth falls open in a way that stops any sound from coming out. White spots litter the black conceals of your vision as you squeeze your eyes together, the pleasure ringing in your ears. Your body locks up, cunt clenching tight as you fall apart. Wetness spills out of you, creaming on his cock as he continues to fuck you through your high.

Behind you Chris groans against your skin at the swollen aftermath of your pussy. His hips can only jerk once, twice, and then his own release hits. He’s spilling inside you, thick and hot, fucking it deeper with a few broken, desperate thrusts. He’s so loud you’re half convinced someone will hear. You don't care.

Neither of you slow down. You keep dragging more out of each other, past the point of sensitivity, past the point of reason. Your nails dig into his skin, leaving scratches he’ll feel tomorrow, just like you’ll feel every bruise he stamps into your body.

The bus smells like sweat and sex and everything you’re not supposed to want anymore. But you cling to him anyway, stretching the night out just a little longer.

This isn’t a second chance.

It isn’t forgiveness.

It’s the last time you’ll ever get to pretend you still belong to each other.

And you hang on until you need to let go.

—

“Do you have to leave?”

Your fingers still as you zip up your hoodie. You glance over to Chris, clothed now in just his sweats, who watches you from the other side of couch.

You sigh. “I really shouldn’t have even come in the first place.”

“But you did,” he says. He moves to sit right beside you and places a gentle hand on your thigh, resting it where you used to let him touch you without thinking. His beautiful blue eyes, which were just blown out with pleasure, now search yours with subtle desperation. “You wouldn’t have come if you didn’t want to.”

Covering his hand with your own, you press your lips together and stare at him for a moment.

“It was a mistake,” you say simply.

His face falls, but you he doesn’t respond. Arguing now would be useless, he knows you’ve made up your mind. Your chest tightens slightly when his brows pinch and he shakes his head.

After tonight, sadness still finds its way into your heart, but it’s more for him than for yourself.

"I hope you take care of yourself, Chris."

With a final squeeze to his hand, you offer him a small smile and leave, clicking the door shut behind you without another word.

—

a/n: the ending of this is awful lmfao but thank u for readinggg<33 i started this on april 1st and wanted so badly to get it to u guys for the boston show but school and work didnt let it happen. so then i tried to post it at leasttt before tour ended lmfao but wtv. a day late but at least it’s here!!! lmk what u think!!!

[respectthepetty]

Pit Babe 2 Colors - Ep. 3

I'm watching the second season of Pit Babe on mute with no subtitles and double-speed just like I did the first season, yet I had no clue this was Charles in the Chocolate Factory because I have no idea what the actor actually looks like without glasses. He Clark Kent-ed me!

And so did this one! I know he played in Long Beans, but I hadn't noticed he was in this show ince he doesn't have glasses! Has he been here the whole time? He is in blue, so he should be good, pero . . . I trust no one this season.

Except Christopher! I trust him completely. He has sass, and he is Waymond with amnesia, so how could I not trust him?

But, truly, from an aesthetic perspective, everyone was serving sass this episode. Or as the French say, "le cunt," because Jeffery is saying something, and the looks he is getting in response are fantastic. My always-handsome-and-gorgeous Alan looks dumbfounded, Charles is looking at his buddy like even he can't go along on this clown journey, and Peter looks like he wants to fight him in a Texas Chicken parking lot.

Then Southwest Airlines is off somewhere in this scene wearing PURPLE, but Vegas' Hedgehog is wearing this little number with white, denim, and a huge ass HEART ON HIS CHEST like he is in a competition at the gay rodeo, and even he looks like he is ready to slap Jeffrey.

But I trust whatever Jeffrey is telling them because he is the ONLY one to be consistently in blue this season with his bosom buddy Charles, so regardless of what he told the squad, I'm going to defend this Blue Boy in the making.

WHAT THE FUCK, JEFFREY! I was just rooting for you! Why are you wearing green?! It's not a bad color; it's just not blue! Are you pregnant? Is that why you are wearing green? Is it like a gender reveal, but for Omegaverse? Red is for an Alpha, Blue is for Beta, and Green is for the Holy Spirit Omega? Alan will make a great dad. He has already raised a team of racers.

Unlike this shitty father! Anthony, why are you alive?! Playing with dead animals is a little to heavy-handed, sir. We get it! You've been bringing dead things back to life (like yourself, Waymond, and Dean???). But why did you let Kentana go? He killed you? Unless you wanted him to be free because that's part of your plan . . .

Because although Whiny Winifred is committed to Team Evil, he is no Kentana. Anthony, you crazy bitch, what's the angle here?

Because I, once again, do not think William is a threat since he brought a sunflower to Barbie which symbolizes friendship, happiness, and loyalty, and he ate the oranges, which bring luck and a sense of sharing.

BUT WHY THE FUCK DID HE JUST MOVE SO QUICKLY?!

Yeah, yeah, yeah, Charles, we know that you are strategically placed in between William and Barbara to show that you are the true barrier between them, but WILLIAM JUST MOVED VERY FUCKING FAST AND IS THAT HIS POWER?! I thought he was blocking or amplifying other people's powers, but is this bitch the true Sonic the Hedgehog here?!

Now these two are standing in the dark when they could just move over a foot and be IN THE LIGHT! Why must we exist in such dark places this season? Do none of you want to be happy?!

*Kentana's dark ass has entered the chat* Well, I guess that's a "no" then considering Kentana showed up at Peter's place and they didn't make out about it. Waymond is "dead" and Peter still won't let Kentana on second base. The tragedy!

And, of course, Team Evil, with its red lights, is experimenting on people and killing them in the process. Unless, that is part of the process, so Anthony can bring them back to life?

WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU WEARING RED, ALAN?! YOUR MAN IS PREGNANT! YOU CANNOT GO TO THE DARK SIDE!

I won't panic just yet because Black Brooder Barbie is in black boxers and Blue Boy Charles is in blue boxer, and there is some light in their black bathroom, so not all hope is lost. Alan could just be upset about something else not at all related to Team Evil.

Because Jeffrey is still blue, and Dean is . . . also blue and not evil, so . . . uh, WHY WAS ALAN WEARING RED?!

And why won't Peter just make out with Kentana so that barrier between them can go away?! He killed your shitty father. He deserves some under-the-shirt action!

Thank goodness Southwest Airlines made it out of the purple sweatshirt only to wear a blue cardigan and a shirt with RED TEXT ON IT! I officially hate this episode. Too much red, no Kimberly, and no kisses. Why must I suffer?

Even Vegas' Hedgehog, in white, seems perturbed. What is his deal? Why is he so light? Is he an angel coming to save everyone? Or is he devoid of color because he lost his way? Tell me your secrets, you beautiful bitch!

Now Alan is wearing green, Jeffrey is wearing brown, and dark cloud Dean is feeding Jeffery! WHAT IS HAPPENING?! Did Jeffrey tell people he was pregnant and Alan didn't take it well, so now Dean is like, "you need to eat for the baby" so he is making sure he eats? On God, I'm about to unblock this tag because between this and William moving fast, I'm freaking out!

AND WHOSE RED CAR IS THAT?! ALAN, WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING, BRO?!

KIMBERLY, SAVE US WITH YOUR BLUE LIGHTING! Peter, move out from between them. You cannot be the barrier that gets in the way of their love. You had your chance to go to third base with Kentana, but you fumbled, so now let Kentana get his reward for stabbing y'alls shitty father. Let my Black Brooder be kissed by a man, and let that man be my Pink Power Ranger!

Okay, without the glasses I know this is Charles because he is blue (color), but I also know something is going wrong because he is blue (sad). I learn quick!

So now that Peter has gotten his ex a new beau, it's time for him to make his move on Waymond Christopher. Christopher is wearing black now instead of white, so I think he is feeling whatever Peter is dropping off, and I don't mean the food.

Vegas' Hedgehog is wearing blue again! I wanna trust him so badly. I don't want him to be bad. I want to trust these two idiots, but Waymond 2.0 is going to kiss a man before these two make out, and I just don't know what secrets they have that are holding them back from making out with each other! Don't be Kentana and Peter. Don't aim for first base when you could have a home run!

William, and his little gay scooter, will make out with a man before them! AND IT WILL BE WITH CHARLES BECAUSE HE IS LOVE WITH HIM (look at the way he is staring him down as he scoots along).

WILLIAM, WHAT DID YOU DO TO CHARLES?! WHY DID HE GLITCH?! WHY DID HE CRASH? WILLIAM, THIS ISN'T HOW YOU GET A MAN'S ATTENTION!!!!!!

WHAT IS FUCKING HAPPENING?!

[niniane17]

I realize that anti Got Season 8 posting in late 2024 is a bit boomerish, but screw that it's my blog and there's no law stating that I can't post about That Series again.

I've stumbled across an old anti-Daenerys post written by a Sansa fan some months after the show ended and...oh my God. I had nearly forgotten just how batshit crazy those takes are.

Dany is a colonialist. Dany is a white supremacist. If you like her you are both. Martin is just pretending to write her as a hero, in the end he will reveal she was evil all along and freeing slaves was a secret code for enslaving people. Valyria is evil and the Targaryens are evil. Westeros is simultaneously the ancient Americas and Medieval Europe. Essos is Europe but also the Oppressed Middle East.

Sansa is the true anti colonialist hero. Sansa is the true opprossed woman. If you don't support her you are an oppressor and possibly a rapist yourself. The North is good and the Starks are good. When Arya sails West of Westeros sporting the North's banner, she is not partaking in colonialism, in fact, she will be the anti Christopher Columbus. How do we know that? Because she's a Stark, the Starks are good...

It's maddening. No wonder Daenerys fans are driven into a frenzy. It's not irrationality, it's just natural frustration at constantly being held to double standards and fighting some crazy takes.

Now, treating a fantasy tv show fandom as anti-colonial activism is bad enough, but it's clear to me that at least some of these takes are motivated by the fact they see Sansa as the underdog, mistreated by both the characters and sometimes even the narrative.

And here's where things get weird.

I've said many times that I didn't become a full Dany fan until she was heavily mistreated by the narrative, and I'm definitely not alone in this. Back in the day, many people who previously didn't care one bit for Daenerys suddenly ended up defending her or even stanning her.

Like, of course if somebody wants to root for the underdog, the first thing to do is rooting for the actual underdog. Season 8's underdog was Daenerys. Everyone and everything was deadly set against her from the moment she arrived in Winterfell. They constantly disrespected her, undercut her efforts, killed off or villainized her allies, snobbed her non-traditional upbringing, conspired behind her back. And all the while they always asked asked asked for more, nothing she was giving was enough.

In contrast, the Starks' and the North's actions were constantly justified or presented as good, even betrayal (which is a very huge deal in Westeros) or, in one instance, outright racism by the Northern people -this time fully intended by the production, rather than an unintentional outcome of some poor behind-the-scene choices.

At the end, Season 8's Starks were absolute gods who could do no wrong and were always in the right no matter what they did -except their bastard son, who was contaminated by the evil people's blood and has to symbolically kill that part of himself forever.

Well, guess what, people didn't like that. But the newfound Dany fans were perfectly consistent: they wanted the underdog to win, to overcome her hurdles, internal or external, and be happy at the end. If the underdog is Dany, well, then it's time for Dany to win.

It's Sansa stans that see everything in terms of How This Affects My Fave and are willing to bend over the narrative to get what they want. They are perfectly happy with a biased narrative and double standards, they just want it to be biased towards Sansa, and everything is fair game to them, including real life politics and vocabulary, with some hilarious results. For example: Sansa as the voice of the Oppressed Minorities is...a take, to say the least. Her world doesn't even have a prejudice against red hair, as it would have in real life.

And guess what else, this kind of Protagonist-Centered Morality is very similar to the one used by real life colonizers, especially in their "explorations". Not that it matters because this isn't a post-colonial story and it never will be. It's a story about a messed up Fantasy Medieval/Early Renassaince World with Dragons, heavily influenced by various periods of European history. The only vaguely post-colonial element are maybe the zombies-as-slaves metaphor, and I think it's more due to the fact that Martin was probably inspired by old horror Movies pre-dating the Romero ones. And who is liberating slaves in his story, again?

Anyway. 2019-2020 was a really weird time to be a Dany fan, and in hindsight it was crazy how much shit there was around a fantasy series with dragons. Surely five years later people are a little more normal, right? Right?

[jennaaswife]

🚨 Everything we know about Wednesday season 2 (possible spoilers and trigger warnings for violence — don't read this if you don't wanna know anything about season 2. Also, remember that none of this is confirmed yet, everything is from a leaker supposedly working on the set)

1- Xavier left school so his character is completely forgotten

2- Enid is craving affection and attention a lot

3- Enid's scars healed (I'm so sad about that... bye bye our hopes of Wednesday comforting her about it)

4- Enid's hair is a bit shorter, closer to Emma's real haircut. It's still blond. They also talked about giving her a black streak, but they didn't do it. They will possibly add it next season

5- Ajax broke up with Enid because she kept missing their dates and wasn't really involved in their relationship

6- Ajax disappears through the season but is found at the end

7- Enid has a new boyfriend, Maxim (played by Owen Painter)

8- Maxim is predicted to be loved by the fans

9- Maxim is abusive towards Enid (he grabs her a lot and leaves bruises)

10- Wednesday hates Maxim from the start

11- Wednesday is really protective of Enid during this season

12- Enid breaks up with Maxim in episode 4 (I suppose, as it says mid-season) and it doesn't go well (he's really mad and they almost physically fight. Enid uses her claws)

13- After the break up, Maxim becomes very obsessive

14- Wednesday initiates a hug after Enid comes back to the dorm after the break up

15- Enid and Wednesday will investigate together in every episodes except the first one

16- Maxim takes over the Nightshades and kick Bianca out. His father is said to have old views (I guess similar to Crackstone)

17- Bianca will have a lot of scenes. So does Thing

18- Tyler is back and will work with Wednesday. He's not the villain of this season

19- Tyler has a lot of scenes with Bianca's mom

20- Wednesday, Enid, Morticia, Maxim and Barry (Maxim's father and Nevermore's new principal) have the most screentime

21- Enid meets the Addams and Morticia thinks her relationship with Wednesday is stupendous

22- Enid's relationship with her mom changes a lot (good or bad, we don't know)

23- There will be a camping episode taking place at Camp Jericho, where Enid and Wednesday will share a tent

24- There will be a musical number

25- Christopher Lloyd (original movie Uncle Fester) will come back as, apparently, a music teacher

26- Enid will have a major fight against around 5 creatures

27- One of Enid's fight is to protect Wednesday (who is immobilised during the scene)

28- Wenclair share another hug at the end of the season

29- Enid and Wednesday are very close friends at the end of the season. Wenclair is not comfirmed yet for season 3 but they said it's still possible

30- Jenna is producer this season, so everything that happens between Wednesday and Enid has gone through her. She and Emma are most likely the ones to decide if Wenclair will happen or no. Considering they both said in an interview that they would be good together, that the whole cast ships them and that so much fans does too, we are on the right track!

All of this is not officially confirmed. A leaker working on the set posted all this on Reddit in June (from what I understood). Recently, bts pics of Camp Jericho has been shared, confirming what the leaker said about it. So all of this is most likely true, but again, nothing comfirmed.

I really hope it is true, because holy shit, the plot is INSANE. I literally told my best friend I needed a camping scene in season 2 and more drama... well, there we are 🤌🏻 All this informations I have shared are from the leaker (the post has been deleted on Reddit but you can find some screenshots on @zstronz78's Twitter account)

What are you theories and thoughts about it?

[lover-of-mine]

This is gonna be a very weird color meta on Eddie, so strap in, I guess🫶

Okay, so, during season 7 Eddie didn't have a lot of color attached to him, while he is usually in neutral tones, he had no color except for a few specific color theory moments (the green to match the blue with Buck during 704 and 706, the pink from the bachelor party) until 707 and the Kim of it all, where he gets some color until 709 when we see him having that release of feeling moment with Shannon's ghost with the white shirt, he's mostly in black, he is in white/off-white on the dates with Marisol, but it is still technically no color.

Then in 710 we see him in 4 different outfits, 2 blue ones, a maroon one and a green one.

A while back I tried to offer the possibility that the show is using maroon for Eddie in the same way they use green for Buck (you can read more about this here) and I also have this running theory that the thing Eddie is chasing is color.

When you look at Eddie's relationships after Shannon died, the women aren't really allowed color, unless the context is attached to Christopher. It was worse for Marisol than it is for Ana, Ana was allowed some baby blue shirts, Marisol was trapped in a greyscale, except for the chaperoning date and the lunch Eddie was daydreaming Shannon.

But why is he chasing color? Shannon had a very bright and warm color palette.

And when contrasted with Eddie's earthy tones, that color attached to her stands out. The show goes as far as making Shannon a point of color in the room during 213. The orange she's wearing makes her stand out. And I think in some weird metaphorical way, Eddie has been looking for that since she died.

I have a running theory that the same way Buck found his blue during his coming out arc, everything about it is blue and yellow, but Buck himself is blue, all leading to the coming out scene, because the blue he is wearing there makes for an extremely harmonic composition. (you can read more about that theory here and about the blue and yellow in general here and here)

But to make a really long theory short, considering the colors in the coming out scene and the way that Buck matches the background, and Eddie is front of a yellow background while in a color that absorbs all colors and doesn't allow him to reflect anything, I am making the jump that Eddie is gonna find his yellow.

But here's the thing, yellow is attached to tragedy in Eddie's life through the people he loves. Shannon died in yellow, Chris is in yellow during the tsunami, during the breakdown and when he leaves.

So, it's not like the warmth he's seeking here has a great connotation when it's detached from him, but if the goal here is to make him okay with himself, to lead him to a place where Eddie is the yellow, could have some fun color theory implications.

But how did I get here? Because of the white in 709 and party hats. First the white. A few noticeable moments Eddie is wearing white is in 218 when his parents try to convince him to go back to Texas, 301 when he drops Chris off with Buck before the tsunami, in 511 before the breakdown, and in 709 when he's talking to Shannon's ghost through Kim.

And when you think about white as a color of innocence or hope, and the way the show puts Eddie in white as shit hits the fan, the use of white with Eddie is very interesting in this context too. Because these are all situations where Eddie is in a bad place and thinks he's doing the right thing that eventually leads to something awful, so the white leaves that positive connotation of "I hope I'm doing the right thing" straight into the coldness, emptiness, isolation idea. White is used a lot as a color of change, to signify the ending of a cycle or the beginning of a new one, it's why some cultures have white as a color for births, some have for funeral, why we use it at new years, so I think the white in 709 was kickstarting something.

And the hats, or maybe more than the hats.

I talked about this with @dangerpronebuddie but I never made a post about this possibility because it is a bit of a reach even by my own standards. We established Buck found his blue.

Chris is red, in a sense, his glasses are red, his crutches are red, the color Eddie picks for his party is red. (Buck is also very red when it comes to emotionally vulnerable moments, but that's not really relevant right now lol)

Eddie is greenish in general. I feel like a lot of us associate him with army green and it would make sense. But green is not a primary color. Not unless you are talking about physics and light.

Red, blue, yellow. Chris is the red, Buck is the blue. And I think on some level, Shannon's death is the yellow. Things that define the way Eddie lives his life. But, well, he can't exist as a secondary color.

Okay, but what does this have to do with party hats?

He is in 2 colors that have red as a base, orange and a very reddish brown, a representation of the thing he misses, while also learning into someone else who's red.

Because it is interesting to break down that orange into the base colors Eddie is trying to make up for, the fact that he cannot give Chris Shannon back or get Chris to come back. Especially with the way Buck is red and he's trying to make up for the space Chris left.

All of this to say, I think there's some real intense color theory going around here, because the cupcakes were a combination of blue, yellow, red and orange, and we saw Ryan in what's presumably an sandy yellow Eddie outfit. And I think he will work towards some sort of honey/gold yellow as he finds himself, to mirror the colors of Buck's coming out scene.

I think that's all for today. I woke up with this thought in my head, figured I might as well share it lol

If you read all this, I love you 🫶

Tagging the people who interacted with this about being tagged in my metas, you can do that too if you wanna be tagged

@sparkedblaze @caw-salem @dreamofsomepiphany @100ceruleaneyes @linus-lucy @chaosqueery @gina-spike @chimchiminie98 @elvensorceress @dangerpronebuddie @ijustdontlikepeople @182daysof @steadfastsaturnsrings @sparklespiff @inell @miles--to--go @jesuisici33 @wolfdeans @dingdongfries @lunarsolar1 @thegreenwoodarcher @angelcamael @glasscities @kejfeblintz

[thislifewechoose]

Something I noticed recently that has made me very optimistic for the future of bucktommy is that since the start of season 7, Tommy has played some part in all of Buck’s major storylines with one exception (and even with that exception, while Tommy is not explicitly involved, there are still some clear connections to him.)

To begin we have the season 7 cruise ship opening disaster in which Tommy obviously plays a pivotal role. This is our first instance of seeing Buck’s storyline begin to intertwine with Tommy’s; not only is Tommy there for most of Buck’s involvement in the storyline, but a connection between the two is established in a subtle moment between the pair near the end of the episode. From there Tommy noticeably takes on a larger role in Bucks storylines in 7x04 where Buck’s storyline is quite literally about how obsessed he is with Tommy and in 7x05 in which, once again, Buck’s entire storyline revolves around Tommy (and his sexuality obviously, but again, it is all framed as being connected to Tommy.)

In the next episode, while Buck has a smaller role, Tommy is still present in both parts of Buck’s storyline, with Tommy attending the bachelor party that does awry, and Tommy showing up at the wedding.

From there Buck’s storyline takes a back seat for the rest of season 7, but even though Tommy doesn’t reappear until the final episode, his presence is still explicitly a part of Buck’s smaller storylines. Buck’s heart to heart with Bobby includes a conversation about Tommy and even when Buck gets involved in the whole Eddie and Kim storyline, he’s on his way to Tommy’s when he gets pulled into their orbit.

In the final episode, with Tommy’s return we again see him included as a part of Buck’s main storyline in the episode. While he isn’t involved in Buck’s support of Eddie with the whole Christopher/Eddie/Kim situation, I would argue that’s an instance of Buck being involved in Eddie’s storyline, not so much Buck’s own storyline. What is a part of Buck’s own storyline, however, is the way he is processing (and struggling with) Bobby’s NDE, which he discusses with, you guessed it Tommy.

With season 7 being a shortened season and Buck’s bisexual discovery being one of the largest storylines his character has faced in years, it makes sense that Tommy would feature so heavily into Buck’s storylines that seasons, but the fact that this trend has continued into season 8 signals that perhaps the show wants the audience to begin to see Tommy as permanently intertwined with Buck life.

In 8x01 Buck’s initial storyline centers around the struggles he is having with Gerrard as his captain. While he expresses these frustrations to several people, the show purposefully makes one of those people Tommy. At the end of the episode and into the next, Buck’s Gerrard storyline evolves when he tackles Gerrard, saving him from a flying circular saw. This is the only storyline of Buck’s in season 7+8 that does not explicitly involve Tommy, but with Buck’s conversation with Tommy about Gerrard from earlier in the episode still fresh in our minds, and the fact that Tommy has discussed Gerrard with Buck several times before, one could argue that even though Tommy isn’t explicitly involved in this Gerrard storyline, he’s certainly tangentially related to it.

Moving on, while Buck plays a roll in several other characters’ storylines in the interim, his next “Buck Focused” storyline occurs in 8x05 when he is cursed by Billy Boils. Throughout the duration of this plot Tommy is with Buck the entire time that Buck is not at work, and the show uses this time to show Tommy supporting and caring for Buck.

The next episode one again shows Buck’s storyline being very Tommy focused from their 6th month anniversary dinner, to Buck's discussion with Josh about Tommy, to the inevitable breakup, Tommy and his relationship with Buck is Buck’s only focus that episode. Going forward, we won’t see Tommy again until 8x11, but he continues to play a major role in Buck’s storyline, with the rest of season 8a showing us how sad Buck is after the breakup and how much he misses, and wants to contact him.

Our first sign that Tommy is not gone from Buck’s storyline for good after the break, comes in the very first episode of 8b. In this episode Buck’s storyline centers around the fact that Maddie is missing, intertwined with twinges of Buck worrying about Eddie leaving. Even in these Maddie and Eddie focused plots, however, the show still finds a way to involve Tommy, with Buck making a list of everything that has gone wrong in his life, including his current tragedies, and beginning with the fact that Tommy dumped him. We also see that Buck has continued baking, calling back to one of his Tommy focused storylines from 8a.

From there Buck’s only storyline for the rest of 8b so far has been about struggling to deal with Eddie’s move to El Paso. And once again, Tommy is involved, with Buck hooking up with him in Eddie’s old house as he continues to work through his abandonment issues.

Looking forward it seems that this trend will continue with Tommy very likely being a part of Buck’s storyline in the 2 part contagion plot line and being present at the funeral. While there’s obviously no way to know for sure how the story will progress, it does seem pretty pointed that for 2 straight seasons, virtually every single one of Buck’s major storyline have involved Tommy in some way, often a large way, something we’ve never seen before, to this level, with any of Buck’s other love interests.

While Abby plays a large role in most of Buck’s storylines in season 1, her involvement peters out in season 2, with Buck having storylines about meeting Eddie, Maddie returning, and getting crushed with a firetruck, that don’t involve even a mention of Abby. Similarly, while Buck’s relationship with Taylor does span several seasons, in the interim between their hookups in season 2 and their reunion in season 4 she is rarely (if ever) mention, and even when the pair is officially together in season 5, she still isn’t significantly related to every single one of Buck’s storylines. Additionally, there are very few episodes in which Buck’s entire storyline for the entire episode revolves around his and Taylor’s relationship.

While there are certainly many episodes in which Buck’s relationship with Abby, Taylor, and Ali play a major role in Buck’s storyline, Buck usually also has some sort of storyline outside of his relationship in those episodes as well. But in the episodes in which his relationship with Tommy is the focus (i.e. 7x04, 7x05, 8x06, and arguably 8x07 as well), that is Buck’s only storyline for the entire episode.

Now perhaps the show is just changing as it gets into later seasons and with the switch to ABC, but overall it seems purposeful that Tommy has been made to be such an noticeable part of almost all of Buck’s storylines. Especially when you compare this to the other main characters who are in couples. For Chimney, Maddie, Hen, and Bobby almost all their storylines include at least 1 conversation with their spouse, and most of their storylines involve their spouse more directly. (Athena is a bit of an exception to this rule as she often has storylines involving her job that don’t end up involving Bobby in any way.) Could it be that Buck and Tommy are being written in a similar way to these end game couples? In the words of the great Thomas Kinard, god I hope so!

[gamerwoo]

Bang Chan: The Girl Who Didn't Cry Wolf (Part Five)

Characters: Bang Chan x fem reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, enemies-to-lovers-ish??, slowburn, werewolf/alpha!chan, (werewolf)hunter!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort ig???, [dialogue in bold is meant to be korean]

Word count: 3,307

Summary: You've learned to do whatever you can to protect yourself after an incident almost a decade ago had your father and brother dragging you to a new country to start all over even though they blamed you for what happened. After finding yourself stuck in a house of werewolves, you're forced to come to terms with your feelings over what happened back home when the alpha imprints on you and his pack claims they're keeping you prisoner. You know exactly how this will end if you give in, and yet you can't seem to get yourself to leave the sweet and charming werewolf who's willing to do anything to make you comfortable. You're just hoping that maybe there'll be a good end this time.

Previous | Next | TGWDCW Masterlist

Chan was more than confused when he woke up. Not only were you no longer on the inside of the bed anymore, but your clothes were thrown on the floor, and half of your body was hanging off the bed and out from under the blankets. He didn’t know how you managed to not only take your clothes off but climb over him and switch spots with him without him waking up, but...it happened. He must’ve slept really soundly beside his mate. And all he could do was chuckle and gently tug you back onto the bed, despite the fact you were in just a bra and underwear.

As much as he wanted to stay there for a few moments longer and stare at you, maybe even caress your skin gently just to know how soft it was, he opted for putting the blanket back over your almost naked body. His wolf had instincts that had built up and up every single day that he couldn’t be as close to you as possible wanted him to, but he always fought them back. Your comfort came first. That would override any instinct he had.

You whined in your sleep, kicking the blankets off again.

Oh, it clicked in his head, it’s too hot.

He laughed softly, his head landing back on his pillow again. Not only were you wearing a sweater, but you were under a thick blanket with him, who literally radiated heat. He reached over to gently brush hair out of your face, and found another laugh rumbling in his chest when he saw your open-mouthed face squished against the pillow in a deep sleep. He wondered if you’d ever even slept so deeply during your time at his house.

Your stomach growling loudly signaled it was time for you to wake up. He placed a hand on your bare back and gently shook you, whispering your name until your eyes blinked open, squinting against the sunlight that poured into the room. You slowly sat yourself up on your forearms and looked around in a daze before your eyes rested on Chan. You were about to question how he got there until you remembered, and then focused on the breeze you felt, looking down at your bare torso except for the black bra clipped around your body.

“How did--” you cut yourself off, looking at your clothes tossed into a pile at the side of the bed. “We didn’t...did we?”

“No!” Chan laughed loudly, his head tossing back as he found your confusion to be absolutely amusing. “You did that all by yourself in the middle of the night. I guess it got too hot for you.”

Feeling the warmth his hand emitted just on your back alone, you looked at him with raised eyebrows, “You’re like the sun, Christopher.”

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked as you leaned over to grab the sweater off the floor.

“Actually...really well,” you admitted, shifting yourself so you were sitting criss-cross before you tugged the sweater on over your head. “I didn’t even dream.”

He smiled at you softly, stroking your hair, “Well I’m glad you slept better than you have been.”

You turned to look at him with a stern look, “That doesn’t mean this is happening all the time.”

“I know, _____,” he chuckled. “Whatever you say.”

-

You curled up on the couch with a book after breakfast. It was usually how you entertained yourself, but the wolves didn’t have many books. It kept you occupied when you had nothing else to do, but you wished there was something more interesting to read than The Encyclopedia of Birds. However, your attention kept getting pulled by someone staring at you, and for once, it wasn’t Chan.

The only other people in the den with you were Changbin, Jeongin, Jisung, and Seungmin, and three out of four of them were busy. Jisung was glancing back and forth between an open book, and a mortar and pestle in front of him, working on medicines they needed to stock up on. Changbin was stacking firewood by the fireplace, and Jeongin was watering the plants around the den. That left Seungmin, just staring at you blatantly. Even when you’d glance over to meet his gaze due to the weight it left on you, he wouldn’t look away.

With a sigh, you finally gave in, “What?”

“What?” he shot back.

“Why don’t you take a picture, weirdo?” you grumbled.

As you went back to your book, shifting on the couch and settling into a new position, Seungmin suddenly asked, “How’s your neck?”

You looked back up at him again, your hand subconsciously touching the skin of your neck, “My neck?”

You’d almost forgotten about Minho and Seungmin’s second attack until just then. You hadn’t really thought about any marks he might’ve left on your neck, either. But apparently he had, and he was still concerned.

Your face turned into a smirk, “Feeling guilty?”

Seungmin rolled his eyes with a scoff, “You wish.”

“Then what was the sweater for?”

Both of your eyes snapped over to Jisung, sitting on the floor by the coffee table. He had stopped grinding herbs and was looking up at Seungmin, wide-eyed. Despite the snappy comeback, he seemed to be genuinely curious about the answer.

“That was just so Chan didn’t get his panties in a twist,” Seungmin stated, folding his arms over his chest as he leaned back into his seat.

“Well, it looked really great on the floor last night,” Chan’s voice came from behind you, making you jump.

You frowned at his comment and reached behind the couch to hit him but he easily dodged it.

Changbin narrowed his eyes, but kept them trained on what he was doing, “You didn’t do anything. We all would’ve heard it.”

“We didn’t do anything,” you stated, turning around to give him a glare.

Changbin stopped his actions, turning to look at you even though he was still half-bent over with firewood in his hands. Then he glanced over at Chan, “Have you considered maybe some Korean lessons for her?”

Chan laughed.

“Wow, Chan,” Seungmin was smirking again, but it was aimed at Chan behind you now, “what kind of alpha can't even get laid?”

An alpha? Your expression turned to one of amusement as you eyed the man that was supposed to be your mate, a smirk playing at the edge of your lips, “Alpha, huh?”

“You didn’t know?” Jisung asked.

“Nobody told me,” the smirk widened as you watched Chan walk around to the front of the couch. “That’s cute.”

Chan grinned back at you, but it was more teasing than genuine, sitting down on the floor in front of you, “Oh? You think I’m cute?”

“No, no, no. I think the fact you’re an alpha despite the fact you can’t even stand up to me is cute. You…are not cute.”

“That’s a lie,” he scoffed. “Your instincts say otherwise, _____. We all know you’re attracted to me.”

“And without actual proof of that, your testimony means nothing,” you told him with a wave of your hand.

Changbin looked at you again, then at Chris and nodded his head in your direction, “She is the real alpha.”

“I agree,” Hyunjin chuckled as he entered the living room, wiping sweat from his forehead. “She kicked you out of your room.”

“Yeah, you’re too nice to be alpha,” you nodded. But then your eyes went wide and you let out a soft gasp. “Wait, don’t all alphas have a power? What’s yours?”

Chan ignored your question, his bright smile genuine as he leaned into you, his head resting on the edge of the couch as he looked up at you with a twinkle in his eyes, “You think I’m nice?”

“Answer the question,” you frowned.

“Nothing that cool,” Seungmin mumbled, rolling his eyes, “that’s for sure.”

“You don’t even have a power,” Chan shot back at him quickly before he went back to his dopey smile as he looked at you. “So, you think I’m nice, huh?”

You gave in with a sigh and patted his head, letting the smile slowly form on your face despite the fact you rolled your eyes. Something about Chan wanting approval from you was...cute, “Yes, Chris, you’re nice. I thought you already knew you were nice to me.”

“I still like hearing you say it,” he shrugged with a happy sigh.

“You’re whipped,” Jeongin murmured, setting down the watering can and going to exit the living room. “I hope I’m not as bad as you when I imprint.”

“You will be,” Changbin assured him in a flat tone. “We all will be. Well, except maybe Seungmin or Minho.”

“Yeah, good luck to their mates…” Hyunjin scoffed as he plopped down on the other end of the couch that Seungmin sat on.

He promptly got a throw pillow to the face.

-

After lunch, you went into the bathroom to check your side. The place Seungmin had scratched you had been bothering you more than usual lately. Chan, Jisung, and Seungmin himself had all confirmed that the wound would heal fine – minus the huge scar you’d have forever – so you didn’t know why it kept hurting. Was it some sort of weird...werewolf sign of some kind?

You lifted up the fabric of your sweater, and peeled off the large bandage taped to your skin. The mark was still red around the edges, and a little shiny from the ointment you were instructed to put on it. Maybe it was infected? Maybe it wasn’t cleaned out well enough? God, you hoped it wasn’t infected. If they had to reopen it to drain it and clean it out, it would hurt just as bad as it did the first time; maybe more. Should you tell someone about it?

You groaned, knowing how Chan would react. Not only would he take it out on the younger wolf but he’d be stuck by your side constantly. It wasn’t that you hated having Chan around – you really didn’t even if you still wouldn’t admit it – it just was something you were still trying to get used to. You still liked having your freedom, and if the scratch Seungmin gave you got infected, your mate would be glued to your side. But how were you supposed to keep it a secret when Chan seemed to know everything you were thinking and feeling?

Maybe you could do it yourself and just not tell anybody. It shouldn’t be too hard to drain it and clean it out, right? You had to do it with your brother when he got injured and didn’t completely clean his wounds – him and your father lived by the idea that a little dirt was good for it – and he said it stung a bit but it wasn’t too bad. You could do it. If you could train to kill werewolves and even face a pack of them, you could fix your own wound.

You stuck on a new bandage, throwing the other one away, before pulling your shirt down and exiting the bathroom, running straight into the side of someone.

“Ugh, do you look where you’re going?” Minho huffed, grabbing your shoulders to straighten you up anyway.

You yanked away from his grip, almost falling backwards into the wall, “Do you know what manners are?”

“Oh, says you,” he laughed dryly, rolling his eyes. The fact he was speaking to you in a language you understood took you by surprise, your eyes widening as he continued, “You have no room to talk to me about manners when you treat your mate like shit.”

Minho had been struggling a lot internally as of late. He hated how close he had to be with everyone – especially with Felix still bunking in his bedroom. He felt like he wasn’t getting any space or time to himself, and it was irritating him. But that was just the shitty cherry on top of the even shittier sundae that was his worry over his alpha.

You were technically still being ‘held hostage’. The only reason you were sticking around was because Minho and Seungmin said you couldn’t leave, and he realized that the previous night when he heard you mention going back home. While he knew they could force you to stay, they couldn’t force you to accept Chan. Even if you stayed here with them, they couldn’t make you want to be his mate. He was afraid that any day now, Chan could get worse, or you could run away and that would be it. And then what? Would he be alpha? Or Changbin? Or, Gods forbid, the baby?

All of his worries and frustrations stemmed from you. You were the problem, and he hated you for it.

You couldn’t deny that his words kind of stung. Instead of trying to come up with a comeback, you just rolled your eyes back at him and walked up the stairs, trying to get away from him. 

However, his voice trailed up the stairs as he called up to you before going into the kitchen, “He deserves a better mate!”

Trying to block out his words, you quickly made your way down the hall and to your room, slamming the door shut behind you. You took comfort in Chan’s bed, laying down on top of the blankets that were still strewn about from last night.

In the silence by yourself, you couldn’t help that your mind was only concentrating on Minho’s words. They bounced around inside your head, echoing over and over. You knew he was definitely right. You were the worst possible mate Chan could get stuck with, but he had to put up with you or he’d die. He was stuck whether he actually loved you or if he just loved you out of pure instinct. 

Part of you wanted to give into the pull you felt toward him and just...maybe be happy for once in the last decade. Accept him and hope that your family never found you, or trust that Chan and the pack could keep you and themselves safe if they did find you. Let your walls down and let his brothers in a bit more, bonding with them and becoming part of their adopted family.

But all you could hear was your father and Nolan in your head whenever you had those thoughts and daydreams. Screaming lessons and insults at you. You felt guilt because of your mom, and because you didn’t want to be a failure in your family’s eyes. But it felt like ever since your mother died, you couldn't be anything other than a disappointment.

And Finley… You didn’t know why when you felt guilt, he’d pop into your head along with your family. Maybe because…you were his–

No, you couldn’t think about that. Especially not now.

Either way, what Minho said still hurt you whether you wanted to admit it or not. Chan was stuck with you, which meant there was a good chance he’d always be miserable. The part of you that you tried to shove deep, deep down that did care about Chan and wanted him to be happy didn’t like that thought. He’d be better off without you. Maybe it would be better if you just ran away; maybe destiny would just pick him out a new mate instead of killing him. Then again, at least in death, he couldn’t be miserable and stuck with someone as flip-floppy and unstable as you.

You heard a soft knock on the door, interrupting your sulking, so you chose to ignore it. Due to the silence, Chan opened the door anyway. “Hey, I was gonna go– _____?”

His face fell as he approached you and sat down beside you on the bed, placing a gentle hand on your upper back as he looked at you with concern. You didn’t even realize you were crying until his fingers were wiping away tears. 

“_____, what happened?” he asked you softly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine…” you sniffled, looking away from him. “Don’t worry about it.”

He let out a short laugh, smoothing your hair back, “That’s not likely.”

“It was Minho,” Hyunjin, who was passing by your room mentioned, speaking up loud enough to be heard by both of you through the closed door.

You felt the growl vibrate in Chan’s chest as his eyes narrowed slightly, “What did Minho do now?”

“Nothing!” you insisted.

The door opened, and Felix poked his head in, “He said _____ is a bad mate and you’d be better off without her.”

You picked one of your shoes up off the floor and whipped it at the door, but the freckled wolf had already closed the door with a quick, “Sorry!” followed by him and Hyunjin giggling at their meddling and getting the older wolf in trouble.

You sighed deeply and looked up at the ceiling, hoping it would suck the tears back in. Chan had only seen you cry that one time, so he was especially concerned that this affected you so much – it also made him a bit happy you cared that much but now wasn’t the time to tell you that.

“_____, you’re not a bad mate,” he promised.

“Yes I am,” you laughed, wiping under your eyes as more tears formed. “I’m awful because we’re opposites. Part of me– God, part of me really wants to just say ‘fuck it’ and give in to everything, but then I feel…angry and guilty and afraid. And I can’t just stop feeling that way. I wish it was just as easy as turning my brain off, but it’s so loud and I– I just can’t–”

“Hey, hey, you’re fine,” he quickly calmed you down, holding your face between his hands and wiping tears away with his thumbs. You couldn’t look at him, your eyes closing and causing more tears to slip out, but he continued to look at you and only you. “_____, trust me, I can’t even begin to imagine how difficult this must be for you. It’s conflicting, I know. I wish I could make it easier for you, too. But I promise you that nothing about how you’re feeling makes me wish I imprinted on someone else. Maybe I wish the situation was different, yeah, but I’d still want it to be you.”

“But I know it’s frustrating because I can’t even get myself to talk about anything,” you mumbled, eyes opening but looking off to the side. “I’m even frustrated with myself.”

“There’s a lot going on in that pretty head of yours,” he told you, with a chuckle, moving his head so he could look into your eyes. lifting your chin with his index finger and making you look at him. “I get it’s hard to open up to someone about it, especially a werewolf. I don’t want you to force anything. Do it when you’re ready.”

“What if my dad finds you while I’m here?” you sniffled, looking into his warm eyes. “Or Nolan?”

Chan shrugged, “I won’t let them hurt you.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“They’ll hurt you before they try to get to me,” you told him in a mumble because you knew what you were implying and you felt…conflicted letting Chan know you were worried about the safety of him and his pack.

He offered you a reassuring smile, “Don’t worry about us. We’re a lot stronger than you think we are. Just like you’re a lot stronger than you think you are.”

Chan really was too good for someone like you. But you opted to keep that thought to yourself or you’d be going around in circles all day. Instead, you just gave him a half-hearted smile back.

»»————-　　————-««

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[narxcisse]

— This is basically all the info about Electricpuke that I have collected over time

– CW: EP himself is a warning, allegations of abuse, manipulation, faking a disorder, among other things, mention of gore, incest, weird fetishes, etc (more cw in the future. In case something from this cw is not mentioned now it is because I have not edited it yet).

Basic info

Riel, also known as ElectricPuke/EP, is a former artist, creator, and game developer who participated in the creation of BtD along with Darqx and Gatobob. He created the route for Sano for BtD and the routes for Cain and Vincent in BtD2. Not much is known about his private life, only that he lived in an apartment in California before moving to Texas (This was taken from a Russian page of dubious origin).

Aliases

Afterdark, arioddsandends, askparasitegods, cyanidesin, doctor-dollmaker, electricpuke, fuckbyknifepoint, nagakira, nurseharlot, rocklandgames, runawayoutlaw, scarletaegis, scarletmarionette, trentboyett

Characters

Abel, Adam, Adam Whesker, Akihiko Kojima, Akira Kojima, Alchemy Willow, Alice (EP), Alice Carroll, Amaterasu, Ami, Amy, Ana (Rockland), Ana (Viral), Annabelle Winter, Arcadian, Aria King, Ashley Kinley, Ashton Kinley, Athena Dianoia, Audrey, August Dixie, Avery Greyson, Axel.

Baal.

Cain Zeitgeist, Callum Willow, Cassiel, Charlie Willow, Chase Knox, Chase Valentine, Christopher “Chris” King, Circe.

Damien Morningstar, Dante Stryker, Dominick Torrero, Dylan.

Edison Tekker, Elise, Elizabeth Bathory, Enoch, Eve.

Faereighn, Farz Murphy (EP), Foal, Freya.

Gabriel, Gabriel Lily, Grace Quinn.

Hades, Hammerclaw, Hana, Heidi, Horus, Hunter.

Itsuki Mori.

Jack Buchanan, Jason Buchanan, Jason Carmine (Rook), Jiyun, John.

Kali, Karasu, Kaz Tyagi, Kenny, Kiku Kojima, Kiyoshi, Kurt.

Lachesis Chronis, Lady Yuzu, Leo Taylor, Lilith, Lily Taylor, Lincoln, Logan, Loki Marshall, Lucifer Morningstar.

Macey, Marco Jennings, Marcus De La Cruz, Max, Melanie, Meredith, Mia, Michael Fitzroy, Michael Volkov, Mio, Molly, Morgan, Morgan Le Fey, Munchie.

Naoki “Nathan” Donovan, Nicolas Flamel.

Olivia, Oswalt Morrison.

Peyton.

Quinton 'Quill' Willow.

Rai, Raizer, Raja, Ramiel, Raphael, Raphael Sivori, Reiko Nakamura, Ribbon, Richter (hotelPSYCHO), Rory Stryker, Rose Martinez, Rosey, Roy McNamara, Ruby Red Graves.

Sally, Samael Volkov, Sanae, Sano Kojima, Sejun, Seong-Mi Yeon (Emily), Sergio Marino, Sergio Morrison, Shane, Shiro Suzuki, Sparrow, Sun-Mi Yeon (Scarlet), Sydney Dixie.

Teagan Buchanan, The Engineer, Thor, Tobias Reeves, Trace, Trevor McLoughlin, Tsubaki, Tyler.

Uriel Metzger.

Valak, Vencil Cartier, Veni (EP), Verak, Vincent Castillo (EP), (The real) Vincent Metzger, Vincent Metzger, Vincent Metzger (Lesser Angel), Vlad.

Xander Rosario.

Zero (Dollmaker), Zero (Empire), Zeus.

Projects + their plot

— I don't remember the plot of all of them and some barely have any info. If you have any information about any of them, don't hesitate to tell me.

Arcane.

Boyfriend to Death: horrorporn visual novel where you (the protagonist) have to survive the characters.

Boyfriend to Death 2: Fresh Blood: x2

CodeZero

Crazy AU.

Dark Circus AU.

Devil's Night Carnival.

Dollmaker: Remake of Sano's route

Empire.

Foxtail.

Huntress: basically how Akira became Vincent (A/N: This is so random cuz wdym he turned into a werewolf just by swallowing his eye with vomit? 💀)

Inferno.

Mark of Belial.

Nightclub.

Of Gods And Monsters.

Rockland.

MOB

Most Wanted.

The Hand of God.

The Misfits

Route 66: how Vincent met Farz

The Artist.

The Carnival Game.

The Commander. The Doctor.

The Hunt.

The Puppetmaster.

The Serial Killer.

Till Death Do Us Part: Visual novel where you are married to some weirdo (except Chris... I guess)

Viral.

Welcome Home: Farmhouse

Welcome Home: Mansion

YanAki

Zeitgeist: Remake of Cain's route

(some) Allegations

— Some are confirmed and others are not, it's up to you to believe or not.

Abusive and manipulative behavior.

Pretending to have DID.

Art tracing without credit.

Incest and piss fetish (both on and off the internet).

Grooming.

Draw CP

Gatobob/EP Drama

— Info taken from 'ElectricPuke (+18)' on VK.

It started around 2018, when their personal relationship deteriorated drastically. According to Gatobob herself, she and Riel had a relationship: they were both married, but at the same time they were swingers. Over time, Riel began to act against Gatobob, both psychologically and sexually, which left a significant mark on Gatobob's psyche. EP used Gato to obtain various benefits, from raffles and communication, to financial aid, gifts and money transfers for fake needs such as fake disorder. Despite the nature of the relationship, Gato continued to maintain a relationship with Riel, hoping that he would change. At the same time, her marriage with Alan, who was EP's friend, was also difficult: Alan was abusive, kept Gato's earnings and was involved in manipulations against her (not to mention that he and EP spoke ill of her behind her back). Finally, after everything that happened, Gato decides to end her marriage and end all relationships with EP. This period was accompanied by an emotional crisis, which ended with an overdose. Recovery took a long time, including therapy and long-term treatment.

(mini) Gallery

Want more? Click here

— I'll add more in the future, right now I'm too lazy lol.

‐ Special thanks to my mom for giving me info on certain parts (I still hate her but whatever), I always knew that having parents who are visual novels enthusiasts would be useful to me at some point. 🚶

Last update: 01/05/25

[spaceorphan18]

Any thoughts on Chris’s latest interview??

I assume you mean this one?

I have not watched it so.... let's live blog, shall we?

I appreciate that he got his hair to stand up on all sides. Looking good Chris ;)

Basics on Chris? I totally guessed his expertise would be related to the paranormal. I completely forgot about the British History love of his, so I'm so not surprised there.

I really was waiting with baited breath to hear if he'd say llamas were his least favorite animal, lol. (Oh god, a lot of you weren't around when he claimed he liked llamas because he said he was a social llama and ended up getting a room full of stuffed llams, lol)

Oh my god, off of Diet Coke? What even?? Also, guys. Don't kill me. Don't revoke my Chris fan card. While I'm glad that he went back into acting - I have no desire to see that film he just made. It sounds like... not my cup of tea. (sorry :( )

The 'who are you' quiz section was super cute. I do love that he gives us little bits into his daily live and world and something that has just not changed is his sharp wit. I have always been a fan of his humor.

Chris's high school experience - I mean he's talked about this a lot over the years. A lot. But the thing that sticks out is this evolution of being okay with it. When he was first on Glee - it was STILL a big trauma. Which makes sense because instead of going to college, Chris went straight from HS to Glee, and omg, what an insane thing to do.

The getting into Glee stuff is... stuff I've heard before. But always glad to hear him speak on it, and again, glad he's in such a better place in life that he can reflect without the being traumatized part. The stuff about his current auditioning is interesting. He admits he doesn't really anymore unless he really wants to... and I'm guessing not really much has come his way that he really wants to do. I have a feeling that he probably won't do a whole ton of acting moving forward, but you never know.

Chris talking about his coming out on Chelsea Handler, lol... I love that he can reflect about being 18, and how differently choices are made when you're that young. But I also love (and get, and my god sometimes still I remember why he's the only celebrity whom I've ever felt was actually a bit like me in thought process) the fact that he was like - I'm gonna try to do this once and never deal with it again. And have it, like, become a bigger ordeal than he could have ever imagined.

I love though, also, that his story is also being contextualized through a queer lens. And, I mean, I felt this way when he was talking with Kevin about their joint experiences -- I'm so, so glad Chris has these queer spaces to have these conversations, because there's a level of knowledge and awareness and perspective you don't get from straight media.

(He took his shoes off, how cute, lol. Also this interview knows, like, nothing about Glee. Fascinating.)

"I would rather be the unicorn in the room than the elephant." -CHRISTOPHER!!! This quote is fantastic.

Getting into the conversation of activism, and how queer culture and community was still very different back in 2009-10 then it is now. And I mean, it's come a long LONG way since I was in high school back in the 90s. We've come a long way in the past fifteen years, even if the asshats in charge are trying to push everyone back to the 50s (or really the 30s :P) Anyway, some great queer history embedded in this.

The conversation about fame being his protection back then is fascinating. Also, how he calls himself ugly (back then). Oh Christopher.

He talked to Shirley MacClaine about aliens. Because of course he did. I love him.

OOhhh, Chris loved every guest star except for one. Any guesses who? (Honestly - I have no idea. so this is a fascinating new tidbit. Perez Hilton? Lol - Chris didn't work him though.)

Also more interesting things to think about - Chris getting a lot of the spotlight early on created resentment. (I wonder if it was Lea... Hmmm.)

Mr - I'm never getting married - actually mentioned that at some point he and Will probably will get married. Don't know if that was kind of a deflection from this dude assuming or if he's changed his mind. But, I mean, c'mon, in any capacity we all know he and Will consider each other done and locked in for life, which Chris basically confirms. (Awww - I love Will.)

Oh god, talking about the tinhatters. Chris, thank fuck for finally talking about this more openly and explicitly. And guys, I told you. I TOLD YOU that this shit happened.

THE HAIR STORY! HE'S TELLING THE HAIR STORY! No, guys, this was almost like urban legend stuff, but yeah, there were rumored instances of people sending hair to Will (and to Mia) and he actually talks about this. Oh my god, I'm laughing (though my god this was not funny at the time)

Oh, god, he thinks there were 100,000 CCers. No. There weren't. That seems too high. The people who were actually crazy were a very, very small number -- who made an unfortunately huge impact.

Oh. God. Also. He is NOT talking about Darren when he talks about people who are still in the closet. He's just not.

Oh for the love of fuckery, this host is just... he had to take a college course to discover fanfiction? C'mon.

Ah, the awkward conversation of celebrities reading fanfic. I wish this conversation would be had with someone who understood it better. Honestly do not like this host's summation of it because -- not just as someone who reads and writes it, but as someone who understands it's influence on published writing and understands its relevance in women's circles, this is a much deeper conversation and this host makes it feel trivialized (because they don't understand it).

Also - I wonder what Chris read, great abs and about cats? lol.

STOP FUCKING CALLING ANY KIND OF QUEER FANFIC SLASH FIC. It's old school term. Now it's just... fanfic. You no longer need to qualify the fic by saying it's slash.

This host is... bugging me a bit. But that's my issue.

They're getting into the writer portion and as a writer myself I'm... honestly a little bored by this. The TLOS convo he's had a million times. He's also talked about his process a lot, which idk, maybe this is more interesting to non-writers but like, yeah, yup, i've been there done that.

Aww, Chris talking about his anxiety issues - I do always love hearing about this, because I feel like mental health issues don't get addressed in the way should.

Um, they end on a section called 'fight me' where Chris debates a position - and his is that only queer actors should play queer roles. I... think that's a nuanced question that deserves more than a 60 second watered down debate and I'm not going to touch it.

And.. yeah, that's what I have to say about that. It's nice to hear from Chris again, so glad he's so much more open about his life and experiences. If I'm being honest, though, I think I do kind of value the conversations more so when he has them with, say, Kevin and Jenna, because there's something more personal going on there.

But that's just me - someone who has followed Chris and his career for, my god, what sixteen years now? Yeah. :)

Hopefully that answers your question, Nonny! lol :)