#ANYWAY it might be the better move for now

[endeline]

Let The Light In: Part 2

Part 1

Words: 1,598

Pairing: Paige Bueckers/Media Manager! Reader

Warnings: Angst, Friends to enemies to lovers (but the reader doesn’t know why they’re enemies), reader is actually so in the wrong, slow burn.

“Is that Paige Bueckers?” The guy sitting next to you nudges your elbow, his eyes fixated on your computer screen. 

He didn’t need to ask you to confirm that it was her, as if the massive ‘5’ on her jersey and those unmistakable blonde braids didn’t provide enough context clues. But, you indulge him anyways, turning back to the screen of your laptop as if you need to double check who’s picture you’re editing, before giving him an affirmative hum and re-focusing your attention on the exposure curve that’s been giving you trouble all morning. 

Unperturbed by your lackluster reply, he leans out of his seat, inching closer, and letting out a sharp whistle as he gets a better view “damn, that’s good. You take it?” 

“All mine.” You reply hastily, reaching over to pat the camera bag next to you.

“Are you on the media team or something then?”

You just nod, casting a quick glance in his direction while his eyes stays fixated on the image of the girl on your screen until you swear you can see drool forming in the corners of his mouth. 

“You know this should go up on the posters they have around campus” he says, finally leaning back into his chair. 

It’s almost like he knows that stroking your ego is surefire way to get you to soften up. 

You turn to him, a hint of a smile playing on your lips now; “if you think that you should go check them out next week, there might be a few changes you'd like.”

An impressed look passes briefly over his face before returning to a cocky smirk. “You know, you’re doing her a favor, she looks way hotter in this than the ones that are up right now.”  

Guard all the way back up, you turn to him, doing very little to hide your disgust. Without a word, you scoop up your belongings and move to another spot, eager to distance yourself far, far away from him.

However, as you settle into a new seat and reopen the familiar photo, a reluctant thought crosses your mind: 'He's not wrong.' 

Flashback 

"Hey, you awake?” Paige's voice is barely audible over the soothing hum of the air conditioner. You’re half asleep, nestled comfortably beneath the blankets, and all you can manage is a low, affirmative hum in response.

"I can't sleep," she whispers again, this time poking your cheek to ensure you’re paying attention. 

"Count sheep.” 

A loud groan echoes through the bedroom as Paige turns over to face you. 

“We should do something." 

You pretend not to hear her, keeping your eyes shut. 

“Wake up, wake up, wake up” she intones, pulling the covers off your chest as she sits up in the bed. 

"Let's go for a drive."

You peek one eye open, glaring at her. "Paige, please, for the love of God, just let me sleep." She keeps her mouth shut, but you can feel her gaze on you as you pull the covers back over yourself. 

After two blissful minutes of silence, a soft "please" brings you back to consciousness. Opening your eyes fully now, you stare at her.

"Paige, I'm really tired." 

"I'll let you have the aux, and you can bring your blanket," she offers, nudging your shoulder gently, trying to coax you out of bed.

With narrowed eyes, you meet her gaze, her face is illuminated by the moonlight streaming through your open blinds, and with just that one glance, any remaining sibilance of a resolve is shattered.

"An hour tops, and if I fall asleep again, you can't wake me up until we're home." 

A soft smile crosses her face. "Deal." 

Before you really know what’s happening Paige has an arm wrapped around you, practically skipping as she drags you, half asleep and wrapped in a quilt, through the parking lot to her car. She turns your seat heater on, connects your phone to the car, and lets you choose a playlist before pulling out onto the main road, interlocking your fingers, and letting your hands rest on the center console.

"Dude, come on, really?" she groans as your sleep playlist begins and the sounds of an artificial rainstorm flood the car. 

"I'm going back to sleep," Is all you can manage to say in your fatigued state, leaning your head against the window and shutting your eyes once again. 

You don’t wake up again until sunlight has begun to shine through the trees lining highway, urging you to peek your eyes open, the gentle shake of the car almost lulling you back to sleep before you realize where you are. 

"Paige, you've got to be kidding me," you groan out after catching a glance at the 6:45 A.M. flashing on the car’s dashboard. She looks at you briefly, a sheepish look passing over her face. "You're awake." 

“I am.” You respond, not doing anything to hide your anger.  “Where the hell are we, Bueckers?" You ask before turning to look at her. 

As your eyes meet hers, a soft “Oh” escapes your lips, and suddenly, where you are doesn't matter anymore. 

With your camera, you could have captured every detail—the way the morning light seemed to dance across her blonde hair, the delicate shadows her eyelashes threw across her under-eyes, mingling with the dark circles from a restless night. She looked beautiful.

It could be the best picture you'd ever taken of her. - And if you hadn’t been so clueless and absorbed in your art, you’d probably be paying a lot more attention to the miserable expression across your best friends face instead of the light that was hitting her perfectly.

"Wait, hold still," you whisper, your tone softening as you reach for your phone and point the camera at her. “Just let me get this shot.”

_________

It takes a few seconds for you to dig your phone out of the bottom of your backpack where it had been left it in an effort to prevent distractions, but once you’ve found it you waste no time in opening the favorites album in your camera roll, holding up the image from that morning next to the one on your laptop. 

‘Oh’

Side by side, the pictures are nearly identical. 

Without realizing it, the two of you had recreated the last picture you had taken of her before the two of you stopped talking, before she stopped talking to you. 

In this new version, a stark black backdrop replaced blurry trees seen through a car window, and artificial orange and pink lights substituted the natural sunlight. Yet, in this new photo, her expression remained unchanged—those firm glares and pursed lips staring back at you from both screens. A heaviness settled in your chest as you set the phone aside and shut down Lightroom.

‘I’m not doing this right now.’

It was undeniable that you still missed her, even though the two of you had barely spoken in the past year. And despite all of your friends telling you that you should be furious at her for essentially ghosting you, your feelings haven’t changed. 

Pure, unbridled misery. That’s the only way to really describe it.

The day you realized your best friend wasn’t ever going to respond to the 20+ ‘read’ texts and missed calls from your attempts to reach her was one of the worst days of your life. 

Paige had just gotten the OK to return to campus after her ACL surgery, you had been on your way to try and visit her when Azzi had knocked on your dorm room door. 

“Oh, were you on your way out?” She had questioned, seeing your outfit and the purse in your hands. 

“I was gonna go check up on Paige I heard she was back.” Pausing before you add, “actually I’ve been meaning to ask if you had heard from her? She hasn’t gotten back to me yet and I’ve called like a million times.” You ask, forcing a chuckle to mask the stress bubbling beneath your words.

Azzi's expression hardens, her eyes avoiding yours. "Listen," she begins, her voice heavy with reluctance, "that's actually what I came to talk to you about."

"Oh?" Your voice rises slightly, a mix of confusion and apprehension.

She takes a deep breath, steadying herself. "Paige doesn’t want you reaching out to her right now. She needs to focus on getting healthy again."

"Oh." The word escapes your lips softly, tinged with hurt and disbelief, as the weight of her words settles in your chest.

The memory fades but the unmistakable hurt is still coursing through you as you close your eyes for a moment, letting yourself breathe.

It had been a mistake to let your guard down.

“You good?”

The voice you’ve been longing to hear for the past year interrupts your thoughts, sending a familiar pang through your chest as you look up, locking eyes with the blonde, her brows raised as she looks down on you with an unreadable expression. 

[telomeke]

WANDEE GOODDAY EPISODE 2

WDGD Ep.2 was a pleasant enough watch, continuing the lightness of Ep.1 and laying the groundwork for the episodes to come.

It's too early to be sure in what direction they're going to be taking this series, so I'm not looking too closely at things just yet.

And I've never gotten a sense that Director Golf has quite the same penchant for intellectual gamery that other directors (like Khun Aof Noppharnach) have, so WDGD might turn out to be not much more than a straight-up recounting of a romance (and that would be fine too). Nonetheless we are getting glimpses (little sparks really) of details tucked in here and there that suggest the series may yet narrate other messages on a deeper level in future episodes.

Director Golf is known for their political awareness (having spent time as the first trans politician in the Thai Parliament's House of Representatives), and this leaning was abjectly manifest when they directed The Eclipse. I'm not seeing the same heavy-handedness in WDGD though (and I think that's a good thing).

Part of me is wondering if the highly unusual method of determining who gets the orthopedic scholarship (patients and staff will get to vote on this, really? 👀) will re-surface later as a comment on the Thai political situation (always a rollicking ride). No guarantees, but odds are pretty good on this one.

Just a reminder that Khun Golf was ejected from Parliament through the application of a controversial law (banning lawmakers from having shares in any media companies), the same one I think that was also used to help obstruct Pita Limjaroenrat from becoming PM even though his Move Forward Party won the most votes in last year's election (it's also Khun Golf's political party). So any time the democratic electoral process gets referenced in a Thai BL (see this example linked here), the chances are high that the canvas is being primed for a political painting of some sort.

Anyway, just some light-hearted observations for now:

The novel that WDGD the series is based on is (by most accounts) quite trashy and throwaway, but you wouldn't know it watching Episodes 1 and 2 so far. The set-up out the starting gate was so squarely and comically blue-collar v. white collar, brawn v. brains, half-naked sweaty men v. lavender-scrubsuited physicians that I wasn't expecting to get much more than a shallow good time with a lot of tittering at man tits and macho tushies. But they've elevated the source material, imbuing it with a gentle sentimentality and treating the sexual element with humor and good sense (e.g., the condom and lube talk in Ep.1, and the discussion between YY and Dee establishing the ground rules for their Friends with Benefits arrangement). Quite impressively done, especially considering the lightness of its touch.

(above) Wandee Goodday Ep.2 [4/4] 6.28 – YY and Dee discuss the ground rules for their Friends With Benefits arrangement, against the backdrop of a neon sign that loudly proclaims "Less Expectations More Satisfaction" (which is, of course, the most basic ground rule for any FWB liaison)

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About that sentimentality: WDGD's glowing emotional core continues to take the unlikely form of Yoryak, and Great seals the deal with his performance in Wandee Goodday's quieter moments.

(above) Wandee Goodday Ep.2 [3‌/4] 2.23 and the return of the wet towel trope – Yoryak and the neon sign above the bed demonstrate together how love in action speaks louder than words

The tough kickboxer has fallen hard for Dee, and you can really read the tender pining behind his muay thai bravado. (I think he does lovelorn yearning better than outright lust though.)

(above) Wandee Goodday Ep.2 [3‌/4] 3.53 – Yoryak plants a little sniff-kiss as he embraces a barely-conscious Dee in bed; he's fully-clothed, yet far more naked and vulnerable than when they were actually having full-on sex before

There's surely going to be emotional devastation in store for Yak because a Friends With Benefits arrangement soon becomes a wrecking ball to the heart if you're unlucky enough to have caught feelings. And things can only get worse for our dear boy once he and Dee enter into their fake dating phase. Can you imagine coping with all that physical intimacy and also having to display emotional intimacy in public, but then being forced to deny it in private where you want it the most? Only pain looms on the foreseeable horizon for our macho fighter (su su na!), but it should make for some mightily delicious and pleasurably guilty viewing as he journeys through it all (if only for the payoff at the end; Golf please don't fail us! 😬).

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There have been cameos and callbacks galore in just these two episodes. The hospital is named Tanwarin, which is also Director Golf's formal first name and this may mean they've cast themselves in the role of a healer here, with this series.

There are also the clips of The Eclipse that our boys watch onscreen (possibly foreshadowing some more political commentary to come).

And screenwriter Yokee Apirak Chaipanha (who also did The Eclipse with Director Golf) guests as Dr. Apichart, the head of the Orthopedic Department.

Of course Ep.2's Café for All is also a callback to The Eclipse (it was prominently featured in there as well, with Director Golf in a cameo as the black-and-white clad proprietor/server).

(top) The Eclipse – Ep.4 [3‌/4] 4.31; (bottom) WDGD Ep.2 [3‌/4] 7.28

And my read then was that The Eclipse, just like the café with Khun Golf at the helm, was meant as a welcoming, non-judgemental space for reflection on LGBTQ+ issues. Possibly the same is being said for WDGD here, though its general unseriousness doesn't seem quite the same or even an appropriate forum for any discussion of weight. Perhaps like in the second appearance of Café for All, what's being served up here in WDGD seems to be less heavy drama and more fluffy confection. Not that there's anything wrong with that! 🍰👍

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Another possible cameo that's caught my eye – the oft-referenced, once heard but never seen Dr. Nop.

(above) Wandee Goodday Ep.2 [2/4] 0.50 – Yoryak looks disappointed when the nurses tell him they've switched his physician from Wandee back to Dr. Nop (while his t-shirt proclaims "Heart Melt")

I can't help thinking that this is a reference to Aof Noppharnach Chaiyahwimhon, who's on hiatus from GMMTV directorial duties for the time being. He's cameo'd as a Nop before (see these write-ups linked here and here) and this may be a reference to his being unseen, but still acknowledged and not unheard during his present time off (I've written about possible reasons for his time away, in this write-up linked here).

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Others have pointed out before I could do it, but yes cleaning the refrigerator does refer to rimming in Thai slang. 😂

(above) Wandee Goodday Ep.2 [4/4] 9.33 – YY turns up at Dee's unit 609 (possibly a reference to 609 Bedtime Story, that was also created by Director Golf and screenwriter Yokee Apirak) appropriately togged out with a gas mask, goggles and bodysuit, all ready to give Wandee's "fridge" a thorough scrub and rub

This thread on the Pantip forum (linked here) explains the term. And the same thread also explains that washing the dishes can mean either sloppy seconds or oral, which lends weight to Li Ming's laang jaan comeback to Jim as payback for infantilizing him during the market scene in Moonlight Chicken:

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OK, so I didn't find anything truly earth-shaking about WDGD Ep.2, but that's typically the case for second and third episodes in any series while they set things up for plot developments to come.

Still, Wandee Goodday is already glowing with a comforting warmth, peppered with light comedic turns even as it foreshadows darker shifts in the future. I hope they build on the solid foundations of Episodes 1 and 2, and serve up the remaining ten episodes ripened to their fullest potential (because there's lots in there they can play with). Here's to hoping! 🥰

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[goblinontour]

Wreck Of Him

a hard time dealing with reality

part 1

warnings: prof!al, age gap, smut, alcohol, crying, feelings

word count: 8.5k

As you stepped off the train together, onto the bustling platform, your mind replayed the whirlwind encounter that just happened. Despite the still lingering euphoria, a knot of anxiety tightened in your stomach at the thought of facing the aftermath.

You hurried through the crowd of commuters, and you could tell he was trying to make himself unseen. Maybe he was from here too, and didn’t want to risk being seen with you, and although you could understand, that didn’t stop it from hurting you a bit.

You followed behind him until he spotted the pharmacy inside the station. You stopped by the entrance and for a moment his expression softened as he caught sight of you, and, without a word, he fell into step beside you, his presence offering both comfort and uncertainty.

“I thought maybe we could go in together,” he said, his voice tentative. “To get what you need…or I can just go in, if you’d like.”

Your cheeks flushed at the implication, but you nodded gratefully, relieved that he was willing to help navigate this awkward situation.

He went inside, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor, feeling the weight of judgemental stares as he discreetly made the purchase. Once outside, he offered a reassuring smile, his hand reaching out to gently squeeze yours, the gesture washing away some of your apprehension.

“So…where to? Why are you here, anyway?” he giggled at his thoughts, he didn’t even know what brought you on that train in the first place.

“I’m visiting my parents, they moved back home when I moved out for uni.” you said as he slowly led you out of the station.

“Home? Didn’t know you’re from ‘round here.” he said, curiosity peaking through.

“Yeah, uhm, we moved when I was quite young so, yeah, you?”

“Me? Oh- I-, I’m actually here for the same reason, family ‘n stuff…”

You didn’t want to intrude into his privacy, didn’t think it would be your place, regardless of what went on, you were still reserved.

“So you’re heading home now?” he asked as the silence started to settle between you.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Do you wanna maybe stop by my place to change or summat, before you…” he trailed off, suddenly realising how forward his suggestion might seem.

Your heart fluttered at the thought of spending more time with him, but you couldn’t help but hesitate.

“I don’t want to impose…” you began, but he quickly cut you off.

“It’s no imposition, really. I insist. Plus, it’s close to the train station anyway.” he said, flashing you a reassuring smile.

With a grateful nod, you accepted his offer, your nerves tingling with excitement and uncertainty. The walk to his place was filled with awkward banter, but mostly silence, both of you skirting around the events of earlier.

As you arrived at his doorstep, he held the door open for you, gesturing for you to enter first. The warmth of his apartment enveloped you, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort settle over you.

“Make yourself at home.” he said, disappearing into another room to give you privacy to change.

You quickly freshened up, feeling a little self-conscious in his space but also grateful for his hospitality. When you emerged from the bathroom, he was waiting for you with a warm smile.

“Feel better?” he asked, and you nodded, returning his smile.

“Yeah, thanks.” you replied softly, feeling a warmth spread through you at his kindness.

“Do you wanna stay…or?”

“I should go,” you murmured, though you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness at the thought of leaving. “It’s getting late, my parents…”

He nodded, understanding the necessity of your departure, yet dreading the inevitable separation. He didn’t want to be left alone with just his thoughts, the reality of it all might just be too much for him to get around.

With a heavy heart, he led you to the front door and he found himself drawn to you, to the way your eyes sparkled when you looked at him for that split second before dropping your gaze to the floor. His hand brushed against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your veins.

With a silent understanding, you leaned in closer, your lips meeting in a cautious kiss, much different to the ones from just a bit earlier. As he deepened the kiss, his arms snaked around your body, bringing you closer to him and holding you tight in his grip. Touching you ignited a fire within him, melting away any lingering doubts or fears, or worries. With you in his arms, he felt utterly alive.

But to his dismay, reality began to intrude once more. With a reluctant sigh, he pulled away, meeting your gaze with a mixture of longing and uncertainty.

“You should go.” he whispered, without adding anything else.

You understood him. But as you turned to leave, you hesitated, your hand lingering on the doorknob.

“I want to see you again.” and you would end up seeing him again, of course, he was still your professor, but that wasn’t what you meant, and he knew.

“You shouldn’t.”

And with that, you were gone, and he was left standing alone by the doorway, his head pounding in the same rhythm as his heart. Maybe this impulsive encounter was something he could just forget about, he told himself. You were a good girl, you wouldn’t tell anyone, but that wasn’t even his biggest worry. He shouldn’t act like this with you, he shouldn’t even feel this way in the first place. What the fuck was he thinking, you’re almost half his age.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to push the frustration and anger bubbling inside away. It didn’t work. He got his bag again and left. He did not want to be alone. Maybe going to see his parents already would be good, spending the night there.

The brisk night air did little to soothe the turmoil swirling within him as he made his way to his parents' house. Each step felt heavier than the last, weighed down by the weight of his own conflicting emotions. Arriving at the familiar doorstep, he hesitated before ringing the doorbell, unsure of what awaited him on the other side.

His parents greeted him warmly, oblivious to the storm raging inside their son. Inside his childhood home, memories flooded back as he walked through the familiar corridors and into the cosy living room. The air was tinged with nostalgia.

He spent some time with his parents, they chattered on about trivial matters, but his mind was elsewhere, lost in a labyrinth of regrets and desires he dared not acknowledge.

It was getting late, he’d been up for what felt like too long, even though he woke up quite late, it wasn’t the lack of sleep that tired him out. He excused himself at some point, heading back to his old room.

As the night wore on, he found himself unable to sleep, his thoughts consumed by memories of you. He tossed and turned, wrestling with the guilt and shame that threatened to suffocate him. How could he have let things escalate like that? What kind of person did that make him?

He decided that perhaps taking a bath would calm him down, help him drown his thoughts. All of them. He wanted to not think for just a moment.

With a heavy sigh, he rose from his bed and made his way to the bathroom, the weight of his thoughts dragging behind him like chains. The warm glow of the overhead light illuminated the room as he filled the tub with steaming water, the sound of rushing liquid echoing in the silence.

Slowly, he undressed, the fabric of his clothes clinging to his skin like a second layer of guilt, the feeling only intensifying as he noticed the dried stain on his sweater, instantly remembering the exact moment in which it formed.

Stepping into the water, he let out a shuddering breath as the heat enveloped him, soothing his frayed nerves and easing the tension in his muscles.

For a moment, he allowed himself to sink beneath the surface, letting the water wash over him like a cleansing tide, erasing the stains of the recent past and offering a fleeting respite from the turmoil of his mind.

But even in the cocoon of warmth and tranquility, he couldn't escape the memory of you, the taste of you lingering on his tongue like some bittersweet poison. He closed his eyes, willing himself to forget, to banish you from his thoughts once and for all. But try as he might, your image remained etched in his mind, a haunting spectre that refused to be removed.

He was taking advantage of you, even just thinking about it, but it still didn’t stop his hand from dipping between his soapy thighs. It didn’t stop him from whining weakly from his hand wrapping around his cock and lifting his hips into the touch. You had him pressing his fingers in a tighter grip as he felt himself harden in his fist.

As he surrendered to the sensation, his mind drifted back to that moment with you, the intensity of your gaze, the electric touch of your skin against his. Guilt mingled with desire, creating a tumultuous storm within him as he succumbed to the memory of your passion.

Each stroke of his hand became a desperate attempt to recreate the ecstasy he had experienced with you, yet knowing deep down it could never compare to the real thing. Despite the warmth of the water surrounding him, he felt cold, hollow, craving something he couldn't name but knew he had lost.

His breaths became shallow and erratic, mirroring the rhythm of his movements as he chased after a fleeting sense of fulfilment. But with each passing second, the emptiness within him only seemed to grow deeper, the void left by your absence expanding until it consumed him entirely. Yet still, he couldn't bring himself to let go, clinging to the memory of you as if it were the only lifeline keeping him afloat in a sea of despair.

His hand moved on its own accord between his trembling thighs, seeking solace in the familiar touch. The sensation of his own touch was a bittersweet feeling in a way, he’d much rather feel you, be inside of you, if you’d allow it. And he knew you would, but a part of him wished you wouldn’t. He wished you wouldn’t have fulfilled his fantasies.

In that solitary moment of self-indulgence, he found himself more alone than ever, only accompanied by his groans of pleasure and frustration echoing off the walls of the room. He got so lost in the feeling, he was so close he could almost taste the release until-

“Alex, honey, are you okay?” his mother asked from outside the room.

But fuck he was so close, the interruption made him close his fist so tight around his cock for a split second that he couldn’t stop his orgasm from taking over him once he removed his hand. He gripped the sides of the tub and threw his head back, hitting the hard tile wall, as the cum kept spurting out of him, without a way to stop it or turn back time to get himself out of this situation, or perhaps have it end in a less unsatisfactory way.

“Alex…?” the voice from the other side of the door rang through his ears again.

Alex's heart pounded in his chest as he tried to regain his composure, his mother's voice pulling him back to reality with an abruptness that left him disoriented and ashamed.

"I-I'm fine, Mum," he stammered, his voice strained with embarrassment. "Just... just lost track of time."

He could feel the weight of her concern lingering in the air, her footsteps receding as she presumably retreated from the door. But the echoes of her interruption remained, a stark reminder of the boundaries he had crossed and the secrets he now carried alone. As he sank deeper into the water, the warmth no longer offering solace but instead suffocating him with its false comfort, he couldn't help but wonder if he would ever find redemption for his indiscretions, or if he was doomed to drown in his own desires.

And as the water grew cold around him, he knew that no amount of scrubbing could cleanse him of the stain you had left upon his soul.

With a heavy heart, he emerged from the bath, his skin wrinkled and pruney from the prolonged immersion. With a trembling hand, he reached for the nearest towel, hastily covering himself.

He stopped to look in the mirror, he should probably shave, he thought. His stubble was beginning to look a bit rough, but he couldn't face himself, he was too vulnerable. Not with the reflection of the cloudy, stained water draining slowly in the background.

He made his way back to his room, the weight of his thoughts still pressing down upon him like a leaden blanket.

He put some boxers on and settled back into bed, he knew that sleep would elude him once more, his mind consumed by the endless cycle of regret and desire. And so, he lay there in the darkness. For hours. Tossing and turning, adrift in a sea of his own making, longing for the dawn to break and release him from the prison of his own mind.

As the first rays of dawn crept through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room, he finally succumbed to exhaustion.

Noon came around and Alex rose from his slumber, the events of the previous night weighing heavily on his mind. He knew he couldn't stay at his parents' house any longer, the suffocating atmosphere only serving to heighten his inner struggle. With a murmured apology and a forced smile, he made his excuses and departed, longing for the solitude of his own apartment.

Arriving home, he found himself enveloped in a suffocating silence, the empty rooms echoing with the ghosts of his past mistakes. He hadn’t been here in what felt like years. And it probably was in fact years, but he didn’t want to admit it. He felt bad for not seeing his family more often, but he often got so absorbed in his work that he just didn’t bother to make the time.

Desperate to escape his own thoughts, he reached for the bottle of whiskey hidden away in the cupboard, the liquid offering a moment of peace. As the alcohol burned its way down his throat, he felt the edges of his consciousness begin to blur, the sharp edges of his guilt softened by the numbing embrace of intoxication. But even as he sought solace in the bottle, he knew it was a fleeting comfort, a temporary distraction from the pain that lingered just beneath the surface.

Maybe he should’ve just bought a bottle of wine on his way here, not go for something so strong. He shouldn’t feel the need for it at all to begin with. But here he was.

Lost in a haze of alcohol and regret, he barely noticed the sound of the doorbell ringing, the noise barely registering in his foggy mind. But when he opened the door, he was met with a sight that cut through the haze. Did he really get that intoxicated? Enough to hallucinate? Because this didn’t feel real. Christ, he was drunk.

There you stood, bathed in the cold glow of the hallway light, a vision that threatened to undo him entirely. Despite his protests, despite his insistence that you should stay away, you had come back to him, drawn by some unseen force that neither of you could resist.

“I’m sorry I just…I wanted to see you, I shouldn’t have come here like this.” you said, your voice trembling from seeing him once more.

For a moment, he was paralyzed, unable to tear his gaze away from you, the memory of your touch igniting a fire within him that refused to be extinguished. But as he looked into your eyes, he saw something there that mirrored his own soul, a silent plea for understanding and forgiveness.

Despite everything, despite the pain and the guilt and the overwhelming sense of shame, he found himself reaching out to you, his hand trembling as it brushed against your cheek. In that moment, all the walls he had tried to build around his heart came crashing down, leaving him vulnerable and exposed in the face of your undeniable allure.

He didn’t even know when it all started, what pushed him so badly against all his better judgement when he saw you on the train. He’d been thinking about you for what feels like forever, even if he’d only known you for what, a few months?

“I can leave if you want, I-“

He wasn’t even listening as he interrupted you by bringing his lips to yours and embracing you tightly, pulling you into the room, leaving the heavy door to slam shut behind you, the gasp that escaped your busy lips getting drowned by the loud sound.

But even as he leaned in to kiss you, to lose himself in the intoxicating embrace of your lips, he knew deep down that this was a mistake, a temporary pause from the inevitable reckoning that awaited him.

And yet, for now, he allowed himself to…forget, to let himself feel the warmth of your touch and the promise of more that lay just beyond his grasp.

His kisses grew more passionate as he started leading. He held you close to him as his tongue gently parted your lips, exploring your mouth.

A momentary pause came next, as you gently retreated only for a bit so you could catch your breath. His hand slipped over your chin, caressing the skin lower and lower until he grabbed your neck and leaned back in, licking filthily into your mouth as his hands continued to roam your body.

After a while, he slowed down and pulled away from the kiss, his breathing heavy and his forehead pressed against yours, his finger tracing to the bottom of your jaw and tilting it to the perfect angle to be able to whisper in your ear.

"I've been thinking about you all day." he whispered to you as he pressed his lips against your neck. He pressed gentle kisses all over your neck as his grip tightened. His soft breaths against your neck made it difficult to think, difficult to breathe.

“I probably shouldn’t admit that.” he chuckled, though his eyes said otherwise. They gave off a sense of hunger. His lips inched closer to yours, so close. He could practically taste you. “You’re just so pretty, I can’t help myself.”

He kissed you again, and again before lifting you up and pulling you closer to him, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively.

Slowly, he started walking with you in his arms, as if you weighed nothing. As he did so, he continued kissing you all over your neck. The more kisses he pressed onto you, the more the kisses turned into hickeys, marking you as his.

When you reached the bed, he lost his balance, falling on top of you and struggling to get his limbs to cooperate for a moment. It was like his body finally matched the mess in his mind. His weight felt comfortable though, sinking you deeper into the mattress, engulfed in his smell from being so close to you.

You started unbuttoning Mr. Turner’s stained shirt, the scent of the alcohol taking over his own distinctive one as you moved the fabric around. Your hands were trembling so much you couldn’t even work the buttons.

“I want to feel you, please.” you begged him, wanting to touch him, to see him fully. You never got the chance the last time.

He smirked and sat back a bit, settling on his knees in front of you, struggling to unbutton it himself, though not as much from nerves as it was for you, but for the inebriation taking over control of him. He abandoned his mission of taking it off completely, leaving it to hang on his back as he returned to hovering over you. He slowly started kissing you again, his body pressing against yours as your hands slowly made their way underneath his shirt. He was so warm, the sweat he worked up easing your movements over his skin.

You wanted to taste him too, as much as you loved feeling his lips on yours, you wanted to bite into him, to feel him, so you pushed him off, getting slight protests from him, but that stopped once you started sucking lazily on his collarbone. You couldn’t stop yourself from making little moaning noises as you moved your lips up Mr. Turner’s neck and attempted to run your hands over his chest, the way he was pushing so close to you making it awkward to move.

“Please just, just take it off. Please.” you couldn’t stand anything in the way anymore.

He bit his bottom lip at your demand to take the shirt off but obeyed, nodding as he pushed himself away from you to sit up. He took off his shirt and tossed it to the side, the useless object falling somewhere on the floor.

You resumed your work, kissing over his naked chest, his neck, anywhere you could reach the quickest, your hands roaming his back, shaking from the realisation that you were actually doing this. You could hear him giggle quietly as you kissed over where you bit him earlier.

You felt a rush of excitement as you explored Mr. Turner's bare skin, his warmth radiating against your lips and fingertips. Each touch sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a fire within you that you never knew existed. As you continued to kiss and caress him, you felt a sense of liberation, the weight of inhibition slowly lifting off your shoulders.

Mr. Turner's laughter filled the room, a sound that fuelled your desire even more. You found yourself drawn to him, captivated by his every movement and expression. With newfound confidence, you leaned in closer, your lips trailing a path across his chest and down his abdomen, wanting to get on with it already. You needed him so bad. You came here with a slight glimmer of hope, but you really didn’t think he’d be so willing to give himself to you again.

“Can I touch you?” you asked tentatively, he was clearly into it, you could feel him hard against your thigh, but you still felt a bit reticent, wanting his approval before going any further.

He chuckled at you. He found it adorable how timid you were. He pressed a kiss against your lips before whispering "You are very sweet. But yes, you can touch me, please."

With his approval, a surge of confidence washed over you, emboldening your every move. Your hand traced a path down his abdomen, feeling the tension in his muscles beneath your fingertips. As you reached his waistband, you hesitated for a moment, savouring the anticipation of what was to come.

He noticed your hesitation, grabbing your hand and moving it down further, his breathing getting heavier as he continued to press gentle kisses all over your neck. Struggling to keep steady for a moment, he helped you by unbuttoning his pants, pushing them down as he led you to explore further, putting your hand on his bulge and grinding against your palm.

“Feel that? Feel what you’ve done to me?” he whispered as you continued tracing the contours of his cock with a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

Mr. Turner's breath against your neck sent a shiver down your spine, fueling your desire even more. His mind started to fog up from you touching him.

His reactions to your touch only served to heighten your arousal, each gasp and moan driving you to explore even more boldly. Lost in the moment, you forgot everything else, consumed by the overwhelming need to feel him, to taste him, to make him yours in every sense of the word, although deep down you knew that was impossible.

You slipped your hand inside his underwear, feeling him directly on your skin, your fingertips running along the length, feeling the wetness dripping from his tip.

As you wrapped your hand around him, he took a deep breath and you saw the way his cheeks started to turn a nice, even deeper shade of pink as you touched him.

"Mhm..." he let out a sigh and closed his eyes.

With his eyes closed and little whimpers escaping his lips, you felt a surge of satisfaction knowing the effect you were having on him. His vulnerability in this moment only added to the intensity of your desire, fueling your own need for him.

Your touch became more confident as you explored every inch of him, committing the sensation to your memory, wanting to remember every single portion of him. You revelled in the way he responded to you, the way his body reacted to your every movement and caress.

As you continued to stroke him, you felt the tension building between you, his breathing was ragged and deep but he was trying to keep control, he wasn’t attempting to touch you any further, other than his lips over your own or your neck or chest.

You didn’t want him to hold back though, telling him “Don’t be afraid, touch me.”

He froze for a moment, he moved his face to yours so that you were mere inches away, his hot breath against your skin making it even harder for you to think.

“Okay.” his whisper was gentle as he moved his face back to your neck.

He began undressing you with a tentative touch. You could sense his hesitation, his desire warring with his restraint. But you refused to let him hold back, craving his touch as much as he craved yours. You quickly pushed your pants down as he worked on your top half, begging him to remove his trousers as well once you were left almost naked before him, only your underwear left standing in the way.

As his hands began to explore your body, you felt a rush of electricity coursing through you, every touch setting your skin ablaze. His fingers trailed a path of longing across your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You found yourself trembling under his caress as his hand reached your cunt, surrendering to the overwhelming sensation of pleasure coursing through your veins as he slipped it under your panties and used his fingers to spread your wetness before dipping down and pushing three of them inside of you, making you clench around him instinctively, stilling his movement as the stretch of his fingers took you by surprise.

Any initial shock was soon brushed off, being replaced by immense pleasure, giving way to sheer ecstasy. With each gentle stroke as he moved his fingers inside of your hole, you felt yourself unravelling, each time his knuckles pushed back into you, breaking past that ridge, stretching you open more and more, the barriers between you crumbled away. You gave in to the primal urge to be consumed by him entirely.

You arched into his touch, aching for the intimacy and connection that only he could provide, your body responding eagerly to him.

As he continued rubbing and sliding in his fingers, you found yourself closer to giving in, your hand tangling in his hair and pulling roughly on it to bring him closer, to have his mouth on yours again. He could tell you were struggling to kiss him, your mouth going slack every so often as the moans poured out, but your lips must be on his as you come undone.

“Come on love.” he encouraged, his lips moving along yours.

Your senses were ablaze, every nerve ending tingling with anticipation. With his encouragement, you felt yourself teetering on the edge of an abyss, your body yearning for release. Your lips met his eagerly, hungry for that last touch that would push you over the edge.

His fingers worked their magic inside you as you tightened around him, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you started to surrender. His lips moved against yours in a rhythm that matched the intensity of his touch, driving you closer and closer to the brink. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his hair as you chased that peak of pleasure.

With a primal cry, you finally let go, waves of pleasure crashing over you as you succumbed to the feeling, your body convulsing in his embrace.

“Good…” he whispered and leaned in close to your ear “Well done, love.”

He carefully removed his fingers, leaving you with an awfully empty feeling. He brought them to your mouth, playfully touching the tips of them to your bottom lip. He parted your swollen lips, pushing past them just enough so he could touch the tip of your tongue, letting you taste yourself from him, before leaning in and licking the rest of the length himself, his nose nudging yours as he pushed his face closer to you, his tongue working on the curves and cracks in his fingers, not letting a spot go to waste.

“‘M gonna fuck you now.” he said, sitting up to kick off his underwear, too sticky and wet to keep on anymore, not that it was of use any longer.

Your breath hitched at his words, a shiver running down your spine as anticipation pulsed through your veins. As he sat up to discard his underwear, you watched with eager eyes, craving what was about to unfold between you.

“Drawer…right.” he told you.

His command pulled you from your haze, and you fumbled to open the drawer, heart racing with excitement. Inside, you found what you were looking for, and you handed him the condom with trembling hands.

With practised ease, he rolled it on, his gaze never leaving yours as he positioned himself between your legs. The air crackled with tension as he hovered over you, his presence dominating the room. He pulled your panties down low enough that they wouldn’t be in the way. You could’ve probably kicked them off, but you didn’t bother, leaving them to hang somewhere between your calves and ankles.

He positioned his cock at your entrance, nice and ready for him. He tapped the head on your pussy a couple of times, revelling in watching you clench around nothing as he brushed your clit before guiding himself, pushing in just the tip with his thumb.

Then, without further warning, he plunged into you, filling you completely with a single, powerful thrust. A gasp escaped your lips as you arched into him, the sensation of him inside you overwhelming in the best possible way.

His movements were primal, raw with desire as he drove into you again and again, each thrust sending you higher and higher towards blissful oblivion yet again. You clung to him, lost in the rhythm of your bodies moving as one, your hands clawing at his back the only thing holding him down to earth.

But perhaps that wasn’t such a good thing for him. He’d rather be floating off to somewhere than being grounded and remembering the harsh reality, the haze slowly fading away, leaving him to remember the night before.

He couldn’t stop his thoughts, that you could easily get him to be a desperate thing begging you to touch him, he was weak enough to give you that power if you wanted it. Knowing he could get off by himself but it just wouldn’t be as good as you felt. He wouldn’t even have to make it a rule to not touch himself if he had you all to himself, you’d make him feel so good, touching himself would never compare.

A nagging doubt crept in, reminding him of the harsh moments awaiting him once the night was over. He couldn't escape the weight of his thoughts, the fear of vulnerability clawing at him even as he surrendered to you.

He trembled over you. He became aware that tears were rolling down his cheeks and dropping onto your hair splayed out on the pillow. He wiped his face furiously with one of his hands, struggling to support himself with the other.

His body moved on instinct, driven by a hunger that could never be satisfied. He buried himself deeper within you, seeking solace in the connection you shared, desperate to drown out the doubts that threatened to consume him as his mind raced with conflicting emotions, his body consumed by the primal desire coursing through him. With each thrust, he felt himself losing control, surrendering.

As the tears kept welling in his eyes, he fought to maintain his composure, unwilling to let his vulnerability show. But in that moment, as he moved over you, he realised that he couldn't keep pretending.

With a shaky breath, he let go, allowing himself to be vulnerable in your embrace. And as he buried his face in your hair, he found a fleeting moment of peace, a moment of acceptance in your arms.

You didn’t dare to interrupt him, not even knowing how to approach the situation. He was making you feel good, but you could sense his distress nonetheless, petting the back of his hair as his thrusts faltered for a moment, his hips snapping so close his hip bones collided with yours, the rough hair surrounding his cock brushing against your clit as he kept grinding into you, before feeling him twitch inside, his cock pulsing as his release was spilling inside the condom. You wished it could’ve been inside of you instead, the thought of him filling you up again taking you to the edge as well.

After a while, he pulled out and pressed his forehead against yours. His breathing was deeper than it normally was as he held you close to him.

You stayed like that for a while, his skin sticking to yours everywhere. It was comforting, having him so close, so close you could feel the sweat at his nape making your fingers slippery as you brushed your hand through his hair.

He pulled away, just enough so he could see your face and- God. The way you looked at him sent shivers down his spine and made him feel disgusted with himself at the same time.

“Please hate me.” he whispered, his voice shaking and his eyes closing, he couldn’t bear to look you in the eyes.

Your heart sank at his words, confusion and concern washing over you. You reached out, gently cupping his face in your hands, making him look at you, searching his eyes for answers.

"Why would I hate you?" you murmured softly, your voice laced with empathy. You could feel the weight of his inner turmoil, the struggle he was facing.

He wanted to speak, to break the silence that settled after your question, but words eluded him. Instead, he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss filled with everything he had to give, hoping you would understand him.

He stood up, the cold air hitting you as he separated himself from your body, and you couldn’t move, stuck there watching him as he stumbled into the bathroom down the hall.

You sat there, the echoes of his whispered plea still resonating in your mind, trying to process. What was he hiding? What was causing him such…pain?

Minutes felt like hours as you sat in silence, only hearing the water running in the bathroom, until that stopped, the only sound left being the faint hum of the air conditioner. Your thoughts raced, trying to piece together the fragments of his cryptic behaviour.

Eventually, you were unable to bear the weight of the unknown any longer. You rose from the bed and made your way to the bathroom. The door was slightly ajar, a sliver of light peeking through the crack. You pushed it open gently, your heart pounding in your chest.

And there he was, leaning against the sink, his reflection staring back at him with haunted eyes.

Without a word, you stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him from behind, offering silent comfort. He stiffened at first, debating internally whether he should allow you or push you away, but then he slowly relaxed into your embrace, his body trembling against yours.

"I’m here," you whispered softly, your voice barely above a breath. “What’s wrong?”

He didn't respond, but the tension in his shoulders eased slightly, a small sign of acceptance. You stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, holding him close as you both grappled with his struggles.

You felt him squirm in your arms, loosening your grip, allowing him to turn around. He looked at you in a way that almost made you crumble to the floor, his eyes red from tears but soft as he pushed your hair out of your face, neatly tucking it back behind your ears.

"I honestly never expected to fall for someone much younger than myself." he finally spoke out, whispering with a soft but pained smile as he looked down at you.

He lifted your chin up and kissed you. It was a soft, gentle, loving kiss. It was clear now, in that kiss, that this was much more than just a fleeting thing for him. After a moment he pulled away.

"And I don’t know if, or- or how I can…cope…with it." he whispered as he pulled you closer to him. You didn’t know what to say to him, the silence of the bathroom only broken by the sounds of you breathing.

"I never meant for this to happen," he confessed, his voice strained. "I never wanted to burden you…I’m sorry."

You held him tighter, feeling the weight of his words like a heavy anchor dragging you both down.

"You're not a burden," you whispered, your voice trembling with unshed tears. "I want this."

He shook his head, his grip on you tightening as if afraid to let go.

"But…you shouldn’t, we shouldn’t-" he choked out, his voice cracking. "I don't know how to love you the way you deserve."

A sob almost escaped his lips, the pain of his self-loathing searing through you like a knife.

"Please don't say that," you pleaded, your heart shattering with each word. "I don't need this to be perfect, I just need you to be here with me."

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his tears staining your skin as he clung to you desperately.

"I'm scared," he confessed, his voice barely a whisper against your ear. "I feel like I-…I shouldn’t..." he trailed off, leaving what he didn’t want to admit unspoken. “I feel like I’m suffocating…I need to…”

In a silent understanding, you guided him towards the bathtub, the soothing warmth of the water promising some calmness, maybe it could help him wash off the bad feelings he had. But he knew it wouldn’t work, he’d already tried it.

Without a word, you settled into the tub together, with you behind him, making him feel smaller, and that was somewhat comforting for him, along with the water rising around you like a barrier against the outside world. His trembling form nestled against yours, seeking solace in the comfort of your embrace.

The silence between you was heavy, punctuated only by the sound of your combined breaths and the soft lapping of water against the porcelain. But within that silence there was a deep intimacy, a shared vulnerability that bound him to you.

Gently, you began to wash away the tears that stained his cheeks, your touch tender as you traced the lines of his face, and even though he had his back turned to you, you could feel him react, his muscles twitching as your wet fingers brushed his skin.

"I'm scared too." you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He turned his head around awkwardly due to the position and buried his face against your chest, his body shaking with silent sobs as he clung to you. In that moment, you realised just how fragile he truly was, how deeply he needed to figure this out for himself.

"I don't think I can let go of you." he confessed, his voice raw.

You held him tighter, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. "Maybe you don’t have to." you reassured him, your words a soft whisper against his messy hair.

After a moment of silence, when you felt him relax, his breathing returning to a normal, calm and steady rhythm, he continued his confessions.

“I thought about you last night…about us, in here. I was alone in the tub but I thought about you being there when I was…I imagined it was you instead.” he said, his words just above a whisper, enough so he could feel the guilt lift off his chest, being honest about it bringing a sense of relief.

With a gentle touch, you brushed your lips against his forehead, a silent acknowledgment of the courage it took for him to bare his soul to you.

“Sometimes…” you stopped yourself, still feeling somewhat nervous around him, but he’s laid himself out for you, it would only be fair to reassure him. “Sometimes I fantasise about you too.”

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of gratitude and relief. "Thank you." he breathed, his voice filled with an emotion too profound for words.

“I’m here.” your implications heightened by your hand slowly slipping down his chest and over his tummy under the water.

His breath hitched at the touch, his body responding to your caress with a shiver of anticipation, his muscles tightening at the ticklish feeling, allowing you to feel the contours of them under your fingertips.

With each tender stroke, you traced the lines of his form, committing the feel of him to memory as if to reassure yourself that he was truly there, tangible and real in your arms. His gaze never left yours, his eyes reflecting a mixture of emotions too complex to name.

"I'm here now." you whispered again, your voice a soothing balm to him, the words a promise and a plea rolled into one. "You don’t have to imagine anymore."

As your hand explored the contours of his body beneath the water, a silent understanding passed between you in the quiet intimacy of the bathtub.

Your hand went lower and lower, brushing past the hairs surrounding his v-line, disturbing the pockets of air stuck through them. His lips parted in a soft gasp when you cupped his cock in your hand, his chest rising and falling in tandem with the rhythm of your touch.

"I want you so bad." he confessed, his voice a mere whisper against the backdrop of the water's gentle lapping as you started moving your palm back and forth over him, urging his cock to harden for you.

With each stroke of your hand, his body responded eagerly, his breath coming in ragged gasps as pleasure coursed through him. The water around you seemed to pulse with the rhythm of your movements, enveloping you both in its sweet and warm embrace.

His gaze remained locked with yours, his eyes dark but with a certain softness to them, as he surrendered himself to the sensations that you laid upon his body.

"I know." you murmured, your voice barely audible over the soft sounds of the water.

As his cock hardened in your hand, his body quivered with anticipation, aching for release, approaching quicker than he would’ve thought.

With each gentle touch, you guided him closer to the edge, your movements fueled by the little sounds he made, reverberating through your ears, perhaps from the echo of the room, or from the sheer closeness.

With a newfound sense of urgency, he leaned in, his lips seeking yours desperately as he let go of himself in favour of the pleasure that washed over him. His whimpers mingled with the last few swooshing sounds of the water as he finally found release in your arms, his body shuddering with the force of his climax.

You held him close, your own heart racing with the intensity of the moment and you both basked in the afterglow of it, the water lapping gently against your skin, cocooning you in your own little bubble.

"Thank you.” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath.

His gaze met yours before he intertwined your fingers together. You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips as you shared a moment of silent understanding.

As you both rose from the bathtub, the water clung to your skin like a tangible reminder. He hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering out the door, towards the bedroom.

“Can you maybe, uhm, stay? With me? Stay tonight, please.” he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Your heart skipped a beat at his request, a rush of emotions flooding through you. With a nod, you squeezed his hand gently, “Yeah.”

“Wait here.” he told you, wrapping a towel around himself and rushing towards the door quickly, stopping in his tracks and turning back around just as quick. “Here.” he handed you a towel, giving you a small smile before disappearing, leaving you to stand alone in his bathroom, a moment for you to think about how much just happened. With trembling hands, you wrapped the towel around your body, the fabric a comforting shield.

He quickly came back, his sudden return jolting you from your thoughts. He was longer naked and you couldn't help but notice the way his clothes hung loosely on him, a stark contrast to the usual image of him as a confident professor. He was wearing some sweatpants and a t-shirt that was way too large on his small frame, the neckline almost revealing one of his shoulders from how it hung to the side. You would be lying if you said it wasn’t a bit weird seeing your professor like that, despite the intimacy you had shared, seeing him in such a vulnerable state still felt surreal.

He had a change of clothes in his arms, “I thought it would be more comfortable for you, I’ll leave you to change.” he said handing you the clothes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You couldn't help but return the gesture, grateful for his thoughtfulness, murmuring a ‘thanks’ before he exited the room once again.

His t-shirt smelled so much like him and it was soft against your skin, a welcoming contrast to the lingering tension and moreover the awkwardness that still hung in the air, a reminder of the boundaries you had crossed, as you emerged from the bathroom.

You found him waiting for you on the edge of the bed, his expression still giving off uncertainty. But as he raised his head and your eyes met, a certain warmth flickered between you.

With a tentative smile, you went next to him and the fabric of his clothes you were wearing clung to you like a second skin, a tangible reminder of his presence beside you. He squeezed your hand gently, his eyes softening as he took the image of you in. If only he could just pretend for a moment that there was nothing that made this wrong. 

As he settled back on the bed, patting the space beside him, you hesitated for a moment, his unspoken invitation hanging in the air. But as you met his gaze, an understanding passed between you, a shared recognition of the thing you both knew you wanted.

With a soft smile, you shifted closer to him, the mattress dipping beneath your weight as you settled in beside him, your bodies aligned perfectly. His warmth enveloped you as you lay side by side, the rhythm of your breaths falling into sync, you felt a quiet acceptance of the moment and all that it represented. 

Despite the complexities of your situation, there was a simplicity in the way you fit together, a natural ease that defied explanation.

“Goodnight sir.” you whispered quietly, not knowing if he’d even be able to hear it from the way your face was squished into his pillow. 

But he did. As your whispered words hung in the air, you felt a flicker of uncertainty cloud the peace that had settled over you both, feeling him tense behind you. But before you could dwell on it, his response cut through the silence like a knife. 

“Don’t call me that.”

The words hung between you, heavy with unspoken implications. In that moment, you realised the weight of the titles that had defined your relationship so far, you understood why he was so harsh all of the sudden. With a soft sigh, you shifted closer to him, the warmth of his body a comforting anchor in the darkness. 

"I'm sorry," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you "I just...I don't know what else to call you."

He turned you around to face him, his eyes searching yours for something even he couldn't quite name. "Call me...whatever feels right," he said softly, his voice filled with a vulnerability that mirrored your own. "Just...not sir." he continued as he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder. 

In that moment, you realised the significance of his words, urging you to shed the roles that had defined you. With a nod, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, a gesture affirming your understanding. 

"Goodnight..." you whispered, “Alex.” 

Calling him by his name still felt weird, but it made your stomach fill with butterflies for whatever reason, blocking him from seeing the smile spreading on your face by quickly kissing the tip of his nose before turning back around. 

You drifted off to sleep quickly, much quicker than you would’ve liked, wanting to savour more of the time spent with him. 

The same couldn’t be said about…Alex. Alex couldn’t sleep that night, instead he listened desperately to your breathing and the cute little snores you made. He just felt numb, but he reckoned feeling numb was better than feeling terrible about himself, at least for now.

a/n: idk what to say, i hope you like it

tags: @4chaos @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @ohladymoon @rentsturner @yourstartreatment @menace-to-the-devil @jqsvi @turnersfav @youresodarkbabe @psychedelicrocker @feyasgotgroove

[seramilla]

So I had a thought for a normal human au. So Sera is the legal guardian of her sister Emily and is doing her best to balance being a single parent (not technically a parent but may as well be), her busy work life and trying to find a partner though she barely has anytime for dating and is coming to terms with the fact that'll probably be single forever. Anyway Emily is good friends with Clara Carmine a girl she goes to school with. Sera goes to pick up Emily after a play date and meets Carmilla carmine and is blown away with how beautiful she is and falls for her hard. Unfortunately Sera is sure that Carmilla is straight she is either divorced or widowed to man and plus a lot of the time when Sera has to see her after she meet her she looks a bit extra dressed up especially if she is dropping off Clara and her older sister Odette with Sera so she assumes she also is dating someone. (Lucky bastard.) Meanwhile Carmilla who has much better Gaydar than Sera is annoyed that Sera isn't picking up on her hints or the fact that Carmilla is clearly into her and wants Sera to make the first move she's even been flirting with Sera but it seems like that is going over Sera's head. There are times she wonders if she should just answer the door in her underwear to try and get the woman to finally make a move. If there weren't children around she might.

The four universal constants:

Odette and Clara are always sisters in every universe

Carmilla is always their mother even when she’s not

Carmilla and Sera are always star-crossed lovers

Sera is always a completely useless lesbian without an ounce of self awareness and Carmilla has to make her see reason

(In this universe specifically, Carmilla keeps inviting Sera over to these big extravagant parties with other moms but oops, they keep canceling on her and Sera is the only one to show up. Welp, she already opened some expensive vintage wine from her late husband's stores. It would be a shame if they let it go to waste. Oh, look, they're drunk. It would be incredibly unsafe for Sera to drive home in this condition. It's late. No, an Uber would cost a fortune, her mansion is so far outside of town! Yes, of course, Sera and Emily can stay the night. Carmilla will get the spare bedroom set up right now. It's no trouble at all!)

[allamericansbitch]

Honestly though The Alchemy makes me so sad. It's probably just because I know who it's about, and I know the events that led to them getting together, but there's something tragic about "Who are we to fight the alchemy?" which implies that they're being pulled together by something distinctly separate from themselves - "the", not "ours" and alchemy, not chemistry, which is the actual metaphor people use to describe compatibility. Their relationship isn't about their wills and desire, it's not about them as people, or whether or not they fit together in any personally satisfying way, it's about the fact that their relationship is good from a value system completely outside themselves. It's good PR. It's a good story. They're like stock characters primed for the roles of American Sweethearts. Then there's the recurrent motif of home-coming: "What if I told you I'm coming back?" "I haven't come around in so long/but I'm coming back so strong" "so when I touch down/[...]/ the sign in your heart says it's still reserved for me" "But I'm making a comeback to where I belong." She's constantly trying to reassert herself into a place she left behind, insisting that not only does she still belong, but that she still has a rightful place of power ("get the crown/baby I'm the one to beat") with such persistency so as to be desperate, to imply and instil a sense of disease.

It may be more convincing if a) she hadn't written a whole song about how "home" isn't really where she belongs, isn't comfortable, isn't safe (Florida!!!) and b) if The Alchemy wasn't slow in a way that completely bypasses sensuality and goes straight for ennui. Perhaps this is feeling is most evident in the song's opening and closing lines, "These chemicals hit me like white wine." Not red - the wine more connotative if romance, but white - the wine associated with depressed middle-class white women who drink chardonnay to cope with the fact that their picture perfect lives are deeply unsatisfying. Now to be clear, I'm not making conjecture about Taylor's state of mine now or whenever she wrote the song, I'm just saying that for me, it's more of a eulogy than a ballad.

yes this is exactly it. one of the many reasons why i personally don't like the song is because there's no... passion? or urgency? there's no pull in it. the whole song is just like 'well..... might as well', and that doesn't really move me in anyway. and i'm trying to do this in the least parasocial way possible and not note who the song is about, which she makes basically impossible lol, but the whole song gives the listener the feeling of 'i had nothing better to do, saw an opportunity and whatever here we are', but it's supposed to be a heartfelt ballad? how can someone be moved by something that the subject doesn't even seem moved by?

[inuhalfdemon]

No One Can Know... (14/?)

Word Count: 3,013 Words

Rating: Explicit (SMUT)

Chapter 14

"I'm starving, darling

Let me put my lips to something

Let me wrap my teeth around the world

Start carving, darling

I wanna smell the dinner cooking

I wanna feel the edges start to burn..."

- Hozier

“Why was I dismissed!?” Alastor complained, wondering aloud – between breathy panting.

Lucifer panted with him, claws raking against bare skin. “Hm…probably because you succeeded at being a ‘total and complete ass’…

Alastor chuckled; and Lucifer silenced him with a rough kiss – his tongue pushing into his mouth.

They had returned to Alastor’s room, breaking back into the Sazerac that Alastor still had and possibly over-indulging themselves with it a bit…

Loosened up by the alcohol and still feeling giddy from each other’s morning antics; they found themselves wrapped together – naked in Alastor’s bed.

Alastor laid on his back, ears tilted; Lucifer stretched across him and kissing him with heated fervor. Feeling pleasantly buzzed from their drinking; they had gotten a little rough with each other. Alastor’s back was covered in bleeding scratches and cuts from Lucifer’s claws – streaks of stark red blood melting into the sheets. Vibrantly colored hickeys – one oozing and bleeding golden ichor where Alastor had inadvertently bit too deeply– peppered Lucifer’s neck.

Lucifer released Alastor’s mouth; moving down Alastor’s chest and teasing at a nipple with his tongue. Alastor tilted his head; his own tongue swiping wetly against Lucifer’s bleeding skin where the angel’s golden blood seeped from the healing punctures, just below the line of his jaw. Alastor groaned at the taste; pressing his face closer and softly sucking.

Sharply tilting his neck away from Alastor; Lucifer lifted his head.

“You keep doing that and I’ll never get you up. Now, please try to stay at least somewhat sober for me a little while longer…” He leant back down, taking a lick at Alastor’s nipple just as Alastor darted back in, nipping him sharply.

“Listen.” Lucifer grabbed him by the chin; pulling his face close to his. “Behave or I’ll put that mouth of yours to a better use.” He tilted his hip; pressing his erection into Alastor’s abdomen for emphasis.

“Can’t say that I have much experience in that…area. Might be better to explore that when I have more…self-restraint.” Alastor slid his tongue across pointed teeth; smiling wickedly.

“Wait. What?” Lucifer lifted himself up; stunned out of the mood.

“What, what?” Alastor tilted his head, uncomprehending Lucifer’s sudden change.

“You’ve really never sucked someone off?”    

“No…I can’t say that I have.” Alastor told him. “I’ve never really been on the giving or the receiving end of that particular…act.”

“WHAT!?” Lucifer sat up fully now, eyes wide in shock.

“I’m not understanding the significance to any of this.” Alastor told him, honestly.

“You’ve never engaged in fellatio!? Ever? Like…at all!?”

“No…is it so important that I have?” Alastor asked him, feeling a little annoyed now.

“I just – I…” Lucifer’s brain was short-circuiting. “Just…why!? Why haven’t you!?”

“It just always seemed….unnecessary.” Alastor tried to explain. “Also, it doesn’t strike me as something particularly hygienic.”

“Really…you’ll fuck me in the ass with your tongue but god-forbid you get a dick in the mouth.”

“I never said I wouldn’t, just that I never have…”

“Ok, we’re doing this. Right now.” Lucifer shifted himself, moving down.

“Whoa! Wait, hold on!”

“This will be better with you lying down, anyways. I don’t want you standing and then falling on me because it’s your first time and it’ll give me more leverage…”

Lucifer crawled himself between Alastor’s legs; his ears flattening as he looked away.

“Really, Lucifer…must we?”

Lucifer had laid himself down and was working on adjusting Alastor’s legs out of his way. He stopped what he was doing and looked seriously at Alastor:

“No. Absolutely not, if you’re really that uncomfortable by it. I’ll be honest, Al, not everyone enjoys this kind of oral stimulation, but….I’d like to try. I promise you, it’s something I really like doing and I really think you might find some real enjoyment from it yourself. I’ll stop anytime you tell me to or we can just forget the whole thing.” He waited; not moving until he knew what Alastor’s decision would be.

Sighing, Alastor lifted a hand – gesturing for him to proceed.

Lucifer gave him a small smirk before turning his attention fully toward his task.

Laying one hand to Alastor’s inner thigh; he took Alastor’s flaccid penis in the other, curling it to the side and began softly kissing at the soft and sliding skin.

Alastor took a deep breath; letting it out slowly – trying to imagine that he was anywhere but here. 

Lucifer worked all along his limp shaft, moving and curling it in the other direction as he softly kissed and nipped at the appendage.

Alastor was just thinking that: this might just be what it was all cracked up to be when Lucifer lifted the member; leaned in and took a deliberately slow and steady stroke of his tongue across the soft underside – going from base to tip.

Blood pooled deep in Alastor’s belly, sliding downward. A soft flush touching his face; his member now giving a soft twitch at the attention it was receiving.

Seemingly not noticing the change; Lucifer focused on what he was doing. Kneading the slowly firming muscle in his hand; he licked and lapped his tongue all along the base and worked his way upward – giving special attention to just at the tip of it before working his way back slowly downward.

Alastor’s heart rate climbed and he found a hitch in his breathing. He was very nearly erect now and he was just realizing he may have miscalculated the potentiality of this particular activity when Lucifer took him wholly and fully into his mouth.

A soft hiss of pleasure; and Alastor lifted his hips. Lucifer firmly pushed down on both inner thighs now; pressing him down – encouraging him to stay still. Alastor leaned back at the stimulation he was feeling; his flush deepening across his face and chest.

The warmth and sliding wetness that he was now feeling, up and down his length was…exquisite and he silently berated himself for having not considered it before.

Gentle vibrations sent tingles through his spine, and he realized that Lucifer was fucking laughing at him with his dick in his mouth…the King’s eyes glinting up at him with a coy grin spread into the corners of his face.

Oh, don’t get cocky you little piece of-

Lucifer pressed his teeth to Alastor’s sensitive skin and slowly slid himself down. Alastor threw his head back with a gasp and Lucifer’s soft chuckling continued. Pausing, Lucifer gently bit the swollen muscle – pressing it firmly between his teeth before sliding back upward. Without removing his mouth; Lucifer lifted his teeth and teased Alastor’s tip with his tongue – flicking and wrapping it all around the head of it and gently pressing it into the slit.

Alastor’s fingers were curling into the sheets; and he was squirming beneath Lucifer – wanting to thrust himself sharply upward.

Gripping Alastor by the base with one hand; Lucifer angled himself and Alastor’s penis so that he was moving his head up and down – pressing the head of the engorged and seeping appendage into the firm ribbed ridges at the roof of his mouth. An involuntary and lust-filled noise escaped Alastor and he felt himself tightening in Lucifer’s hand and mouth. He was shaking from the approaching climax and it was tightening his throat.

“Luci!” Alastor managed -  “I – I’m” Gasping.

Lucifer answered him by gripping him tighter; tilting his head and pressing his tongue firmly to the underpart of Alastor’s penis – pushing it tighter against this palate. He felt the member ready and threatening to release and he sucked softly – sending Alastor completely over the edge.

Cum rushed between his teeth, running over his tongue. Alastor made to pull away but Lucifer held him there; swallowing. As Alastor’s penis relaxed; Lucifer softly licked and sucked it clean before letting it go - limply - from his mouth.

Alastor was brilliantly flushed and sweating; eyes wide. His ears were making erratic movements and he was trembling slightly.

Lucifer propped up an elbow; smirking at him wickedly.

“Told you would like it.” He sang.

That…was… Alastor could not form the thoughts.

Lucifer laughed; sitting himself up now; his own erection standing at attention.

“And, I told you that I liked it.” He affirmed.

“Are you open to the idea of….reciprocation?” Alastor asked him.

“Of course.” Lucifer grinned at him.

“Edge of the bed, then.” Alastor told him, getting up and moving gingerly from off of the bed – feeling lightheaded.

Lucifer did as he was told and Alastor knelt down, facing him.

“Legs over my shoulders.” Alastor instructed.

Moving, Alastor helped him into position – sliding the King closer to him.

“Forgive me my…inexperience with this. You may instruct me if what I do is not to your liking.” Alastor told him, leaning in.

“Eh, it’s pretty straight forward.” Lucifer slid a hand through the soft hairs at the top of his head, leaning back.

“I like to think...that I’m a fast learner.” Alastor breathed against his skin; tilting Lucifer’s swollen member upward.

Lucifer was about to make some snarky comment when Alastor’s slick wet tongue slid between his balls; flicking them gently. His hand softly found Lucifer’s length; his thumb swirling pre-cum all along the tip of it.

“I-“ Lucifer’s breathing hitched sharply. “I didn’t teach you that.”

“Hmm….” Alastor pulled back slightly; his warm breath tickling Lucifer’s slick and heated skin. “I can also be quite creative…” He pressed his face in again; wrapping his long and lengthening tongue firmly around Lucifer’s base and squeezing.

Lucifer’s hip gave a sharp jut and he groaned softly.

Alastor’s smile widened at the response. Uncoiling and re-coiling his lengthening tongue; he twisted it around Lucifer’s shaft. Soft barbs from its slick surface pressed into the sensitive skin and stimulated Lucifer in a delicious way.

“Oh, fuck…Al…” His hand tightened in Alastor’s hair, forming a fist, claws digging into the mattress.

Alastor gently moved his head and his tongue; pushing and pulling Lucifer deeper and deeper into a heightened state of arousal.

Lucifer moaned with a whining and intense need and Alastor’s tail swished quickly back and forth at the sound of it.

Alastor felt himself slipping below some surface; falling into the depths of some new and exciting space. He was finding pleasure in satisfying the needs of his King; something he hadn’t fully discovered or considered in himself before. It both frightened and exhilarated him; the sheer intensity of it… He needed Lucifer to come apart at the seams… just for him.

Lucifer was shaking and sweating. Alastor tightened his tongue on the angel and slowly pulled Lucifer’s remarkable length into his mouth. Gently detaching the barbs from the skin; Alastor swirled his tongue all along the shaft and head in his mouth – groaning at the taste and feel of it.

Lucifer’s hips bucked beneath him and Alastor growled to him in an approving way. Lucifer bent himself backward; gasping at the overwhelming stimulation that he was feeling. The places that Alastor’s barbed tongue had been still sharply tingled and sent jolts of pleasure cascading all throughout his body.

Remembering just how Lucifer had done it; Alastor felt the King’s penis curve and tighten in his mouth. Softly, he began sucking and it wasn’t long before cum was filling up his mouth; sliding over his long and winding tongue.

Alastor released him and Lucifer fell back, gasping and shaking. The sinner watched him for a moment with heavy-lidded eyes before leaning and crawling over him; hovering just over his abdomen.

Lucifer; still gasping tilted his head – watching Alastor.

The demon grinned back at him wickedly before opening his mouth, tilting his tongue and letting a warm mixture of spit and cum dribble from his mouth and onto Lucifer’s belly.

“Your seed…my King.”

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

Later, Alastor had moved them to the bayou – wrapping them in shadows and setting them in a small grassy clearing. Lucifer dozed quietly against him; naked and covered by the blanket Alastor had summoned for both of them.

Alastor laid on his back; claws absently threading through the sleeping angel’s hair as he stared blankly into that otherworldly night sky, eyes lost in the far-off shine of twinkling stars and the soft dancing glow of fireflies.

Lucifer stirred and Alastor dropped his hand away; laying it across the King’s bare shoulder. Lucifer turned his head; looking up at the brilliant night sky with Alastor.

“You know…I wouldn’t be very opposed to loosening the…stringencies of our deal.” Alastor told him, quietly. “Make it so that you don’t have to receive a direct invitation from me or from Charlie just to be able to come to the hotel.”

Lucifer laughed lightly. “I appreciate the sentiment but it really wouldn’t make much of a difference…not with Lilith’s deal still in place.”

“I suppose…I shouldn’t find that too surprising, all things considered.” Alastor admitted.

“It’s a bit of a bitch…not really getting to ever go anywhere without someone calling on or needing me for something specific.”

“Surely, your deal with Lilith hasn’t been that restrictive; you always could-“ Lucifer looked at Alastor just then and Alastor suddenly realized…

“You…can’t go anywhere…”  Alastor’s eyes locking with Lucifer’s.

Lucifer shrugged. “Lilith’s deal prevents me from getting involved in the hotel or really anything that involves Hell with Heaven; her deal was specifically made to prevent me from making a mistake and letting anyone know what we were up to. I don’t think she fully intended it but the restrictions keep me from ever being able to leave my current place of residence unless I am specifically asked to leave by you or by Charlie.”

Alastor didn’t say anything, this new bit of information slowly soaking itself in.

 “It’s why I asked for Charlie to go speak with Adam for that initial meeting to begin with…and, it’s why I can only come and stay here if she - or you - needs or wants me to.” 

“Wait, so who’s ruling over all of Hell if you can’t actually ever leave?”

“Oh, I can leave if it’s absolutely necessary...there’s been a few times I’ve had to attend something having to do with the other seven deadly sins but, it can’t be just something on a whim and I’m still restricted by what I can say or do when I’m away…”

“That seems…terribly problematic for you.”

“It is…but, these things tend to happen when you’re a man with many chains.”

Alastor said nothing to this, but he wondered if this was Lucifer’s way of trying to get him to loosen the cards he himself was holding tightly to his chest: to reveal to him that, Alastor too, was caught in a web of binding links – holding him to multiple agreements; one most in particular, shackling him tightly to the one who currently held his soul. But then, Alastor realized; he more than likely was just feeling a bit paranoid.

 “I am sorry…that you’ve had to sacrifice so much.” Alastor told him.

Lucifer laughed.

“What?” Alastor demanded; agitated that Lucifer was finding humor in his rare moment of sincerity.

“If I’ve got you feeling sorry for me, then I truly am in a sad state.” His chuckling continued.

Alastor huffed at that; eyes trailing back to the stars.

Laughter still heavy in his voice, Lucifer asked him: “So…you’re officially and truly a cocksucker now. How does it feel?” He teased.

“Hm…the deflowerment wasn’t nearly as degrading or disappointing as I had imagined it could be.”

Lucifer snickered.

“How was my performance?”

“Oh, the deer can suck cock, believe you me.” Lucifer cackled and Alastor felt the corners of his smile twitching; threatening to crack open wider. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were a fast learner, goddamn. I am curious to know though…” Lucifer tilted his head, watching Alastor’s response. “What got you into such a subspace?”

Alastor’s ears moved, tweaking slightly in his confusion. “I’m sorry, a what?”

“Subspace? A submissive headspace…?”

Alastor looked at him blankly.

Wow, he really has no idea…

“When you were…well…you kind of zoned out there for a minute.” Lucifer was trying to explain.

“Yes…I-“ Alastor’s ears leant back slightly and he felt a soft heat rising in his face, remembering. “I suppose I was enjoying myself...I thought that was normally your experience with it as well.”

“Mmm, not quite…” Lucifer was thinking. “I enjoy it, I really do but…” He frowned. He had never had to explain the basic concept of BDSM to someone before; and to someone like Alastor: older, a little set in his ways, touch-averse and only just beginning to explore and actually enjoy sex…it felt like it might be a delicate topic to broach.

Alastor patiently waited for him to continue, his curiosity more than just a little peaked.

“When you enter a subspace, you kind of feel like you’re going into a trance. It’s euphoric and an out-of-body type of feeling…” Lucifer explained. “Generally when you’re a submissive; you give up some level of…control to a partner. This can be anywhere from something as small as wanting to please that partner to involving something more…surrendering; like bondage or discipline. I’m sure you’ve heard of BDSM, what do you know about it?.”

“Chains, whips, and a lot of pain come to mind…can’t say I have much interest in delving into that territory much further.”

“Yeah, that’s generally the concept that’s portrayed with it but, like many things, there’s more to it than that.” Lucifer told him. “I’m not saying it’s something you definitely would be into, nor have I personally pursued a role in it with a full commitment …but, it could be worth exploring.”

“You’ve had experience with this…subspace, before?” Alastor asked him, wanting to understand this concept more.

“Oh, yes, I have.” Lucifer told him. “It takes a little more roleplaying to get me into the right mindset for it usually, but I’ve definitely experienced it. It’s…quite nice.”

“Hmm.” Alastor hummed agreeably, remembering that slow and pleasurable sinking feeling – consumed in a heated and lust-filled haze at the idea of being completely and sensuously subservient.

“Like I said.” Lucifer told him. “It could be worth exploring.”

[thelov3lybookworm]

Mine? (part 4)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Summary: He just wants to talk.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: we love short chapters... right?

anyways, enjoy!

(dividers by @saradika-graphics)

Y/n tensed, staring back into the grey eyes she used to be in love with.

How did he know she was here?

She glanced at Nash, who held Adelaide close to himself.

No, he wouldn't do that.

Y/n thought about it for a moment as she stood.

Did he tail us?

Her eyes widened when she realised that he had, in fact, been tailing her.

But he wouldn't meet her eyes, locked on the babe in his brother's arms, his gaze accusing.

"You knew?" His voice was calm, calculated as he looked at the other two brothers, who simply stared at their feet. "You all knew."

"Gray-" Nash began, his face serious, but Grayson cut him off.

"Get out."

"What do you mean get out? We're staying here-" Jameson complained, standing as he glared at Grayson. All the while, Y/n watched, a pit in her stomach.

"I want to talk to her. Take the baby, and get out."

Y/n could feel all their eyes on her, but she only stared back at Grayson.

"Y/n?" Nash mumbled, and Y/n gave him a curt nod.

"I'll be fine." She glanced once at him and Adelaide meaningfully, who was drooling over the collar of his shirt.

Nash gestured at Xander and Jameson to get out, which they did, leaving Grayson alone in the room with Y/n as they locked the door behind him.

Y/n sighed, settling back in the armchair she occupied. "What did you want to talk about?"

He stared at her, his eyes hard, before stalking forward.

"I just want to know. Why did you leave?"

Y/n’s eyebrows rose.

"Are you seriously asking me that?"

Grayson was not amused, his jaw clenching as if he was trying not to lose his temper as he walked towards the fireplace mantle and leaned against it.

"Yes, Y/n, I am seriously asking you that."

Y/n laughed, the sound void of humour. "Why did I leave, Grayson? Besides the fact that you thought that night was a mistake?"

"So you left because I told you that it was a bad idea to fuck my friend? Well, forgive me for not realising how sensitive you are and that you couldn't understand why it was wrong."

Tears stung her eyes as Y/n stared at him, the dark, empty place in her chest that was filled with resentment and sadness, the place that once overflowed with her love for him, filling with anger at the way he tried to downplay what he had done.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down because she didn’t trust herself to not slap him to a pulp.

"Why do you think I let you touch me that night, Grayson?" She didn’t let him answer. "It was because I genuinely was in love with you. And maybe a little delusional, considering I thought you might actually have moved on from Emily and Eve and decided, to, I don't know, be a sensible human being. But boy was I wrong."

"Y/n-"

"No, Grayson. You don’t get to interrupt me. You wanted to know why I left, so you better zip it and listen."

His mouth closed with an audible click as she stood, tears now pooling in her eyes.

"I watched you be so hopelessly in love with so many people Grayson, watched as you got your heart broken by each one of them. First Emily, then Avery, then Eve. all the while I burned for you. All the while I was right there, waiting for you to realise that you didn’t have to be alone."

Y/n sniffed, taking a step towards him, her eyes unwavering as he straightened. "That night, when we made a mistake, you were just using me to get over Eve. you did not care that you hurt my feelings. You just wanted to have what you couldn’t get from her. And right after, you tell me it was a mistake. How could I stay after that, Grayson?"

He swallowed. "I’m sorry-"

"How could I stay, knowing that when you found out that a life was growing inside of me because of your mistake, you would probably just leave me to take care of a child you helped create by myself? Knowing that you would be disappointed and probably ask me to terminate?"

Y/n continued to step closer to him, watching his reaction closely, tears beginning to leak down her face as she whispered in his face. "How could I stay, knowing that in the off chance that you wanted to be in the life of my daughter, there was a possibility that you would turn out just like your father?"

His eyes flashed, and with their close proximity, Y/n could see the silver lining his eyes. But she did not care. He deserved to feel the pain that she went through. He deserved to know that it was because of him she went into hiding.

"I wouldn't have abandoned you two had I known, and you know damn well that I wouldn’t have turned out like him."

Y/n smirked. "Do I now?"

"You could’ve told me Y/n. You know how much I value family. You knew, and still you ran off."

The anger that surged in her veins was quick to overpower any sense of self she had, and she moved before she realised what she was doing.

The loud crack was satisfying still, and the red handprint left on his cheek was enough to soothe her wounds.

"Maybe instead of telling me how stupid I was in not informing you, you should ask your mother why she thought she could make decisions for you."

His head snapped back to her, his eyes wide.

"My- Skye?" Y/n watched as a tear made its way down his cheek. "She knew?"

Y/n laughed. "Of course she did. Did you really think I would put my daughters future in jeopardy by keeping her away from her father just because I wanted to be petty?"

He stayed silent, gazing into Y/n’s eyes. "Did she tell you to stay away from me?" He leaned in. "How much did she have to pay to buy your silence?"

His voice was harsh, taunting.

"Nothing. I was not about to risk the lives of my family and daughter by going against her wishes" Y/n mumbled, taking a step back, ready to leave.

He blinked, shock evident in his gaze. "She threatened to…"

"Yes, Grayson. She threatened to wipe out my entire family, as well as my then unborn child if I even dared to hint at you that I was pregnant."

All the harshness bled from his face, leaving behind a vulnerable boy who was hurt more than he should have been at his age. "What would she gain-"

The door clicked open. "Y/n?"

She turned to look at Xander, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. "Yes?"

"It’s Adelaide. She’s been crying for the past ten minutes. I think she’s hungry."

Y/n nodded, and with one last glance at Grayson, who stared at his brother with panic in his eyes, followed Xander out.

She knew he wanted to talk more, but she was done with the conversation.

The Inheritance Games Taglist: @dahliawarner

Mine taglist: @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @blocked-zombieartist @lillycore @lanterns-and-daydreams

@bubybubsters @berryzxx @riddlesb1tch

[cabinofimagines]

Sibling Nico HCs

I didn't really know what to say for this one, but an attempt was made! Pairing: Sibling PLATONIC Nico di Angelo x gn!reader Request: Can I ask for headcanons on what it would be like to be Nico's younger sibling? Like how they met, when they first started bonding, their dynamic. Sorry if this doesn't make sense.  Word count: 0.7k Warnings: mention of injury! -Asnyox

To be honest, you probably only met Nico after the second war. Of course, he built the Hades Cabin after the first great war, but he never stayed around for long enough to get to know him. You arrived at camp sometime before the Argo II left, and was one of the few who did still get claimed even as the gods were split between their two parts. Perhaps Hades had a moment of clarity just enough to peek through and claim you. 

Either way, while Nico was on the Argo II he had heard about you in passing, according to Leo you’re “less scary, more energetic,” and Jason had voiced his surprise at the cold shoulder Nico gave him. They had both agreed though that both of you had been the same amount of awkward socially, although you dealt with it differently. Nico wasn’t sure what to make of the hypothetical new sibling- was he scared? Excited? Did he fear for your fate?

Anyways, the first meeting would be after the fight, Nico going to his cabin ready to collapse. You had already gone back to your cabin and were currently sitting on your bed, trying to comprehend what had happened, what you had seen in the day. It had been a horrific day, and in your silent contemplation you hadn’t noticed Nico coming in. Nico, in his tiredness, only noticed you after a moment and with a small yell he tried to grab his sword, which he currently wasn’t carrying. 

You shot up hearing the yell and scrambled backwards, getting your feet underneath you and standing on the bed. You had been ready to sleep, but now adrenaline was once again in your limbs as you stared at the stranger. But as you stared at the pale stranger, realization dawned on you. “Nico di Angelo?” your tone was questioning, and Nico nodded slowly, still staring at you. His gaze was intense, although you didn’t know that Nico didn’t mean to be intense. You slowly get off your bed, and hesitatingly hold out your hand. “I’m (Y/n) (L/n), nice to uh, meet you?” 

At first your relationship was hardly there- Nico had his own shit to deal with mentally, and he genuinely thought that you didn’t need him. You had friends from different cabins, and Nico thought that associating with you might get you judged. However he always kept an eye on you. 

One day, while he was helping rebuild the infirmary with Will, you got carried in by Paolo. There was a huge gash in your lack, and Nico felt a protective surge in his chest. “What did this?” he asked, as he moved next to you. He didn’t know how to heal, but Will was on it. “There were some monsters at the border,” you shrugged, “They almost got to Paolo. Are you angry at me?” your voice got quiet near the end, and Nico looked questioningly at Will, who had looked up from bandaging your leg. “No.” Nico stared at you. “You look angry.” You said, looking at your half-brother. Nico felt his heart drop a bit at your innocent face. He was angry at the monsters- but he also realized that he might care for you. 

Since then Nico seemed to seek you out. It started with training together, then talking about the underworld, learning about the dangers and perks of summoning the undead and shadow travel. Nico learned that although he had to figure it all out himself, you wouldn’t have to if he taught you. 

He even took it upon himself to teach you about the different myths using Mythomagic, and it warmed his heart to see you enjoy yourself. Nico’s life had been hard but he didn’t want that for you- he secretly promised himself to make sure your life would be better. 

As for your dynamic, it’s much like Nico and Hazel. You care for one another, and are very close. In the beginning it was simply that, protecting each other and just being kind. Over time, as Nico got more mentally healthy, he started being a bit more cheeky and made (lovingly) fun of you, just as you did in return.

[hinadori-chan]

low key wanna like

set up a queue for posts i like that don’t circulate anymore so that way the recirculate but also i don’t spam but like

i don’t think i’ve ever used a queue before tbh lol

[luck-of-the-drawings]

!!! FLASHING LIGHTS WARNING!!! [IM NOT FUCKIN AROUND!!]

REACHED THE CUSP OF 'THIS MAY NEVER BE ABSOLUTELY FINISHED N IF I DONT SHOW IT NOW, IT WILL NEVER SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY.' SO HERE, A PROJECT IVE BEEN ORBITING AROUND UHH SINCE 2021 OR SO.

[tcfactory]

Okay smartass how would you fix Bingqiu if you had your way?

If you actually want to know you could do to be less of a rude little shit about it, anon, but all right.

This is not about 'fixing' anything. Bingqiu is a wildly popular ship and a lot of people enjoy the exact kind of delusional insanity these two have about each other and that's honestly great. Love it for them. Not my cup of tea though.

I think the easiest and fastest way to make them sort their shit out and maybe put them in a position where I might actually be interested in what's going on with them is to take the protagonist halo away. Maybe the System short circuits, maybe it just gets automatically turned off after the extras, don't know don't care.

A lot of Shen Qingqiu's self delusions are fueled by his unshakeable belief that Luo Binghe, being The Protagonist, is Perfectly Fine the way he is. Binghe is the Protagonist, so when there are no character development or obligatory angst events going on he is happy and healthy and a slightly charred good boy and Shen Qingqiu is The Happy Wife who dotes on his hubby and Everything Is Right In The World. Endless honeymoon with their responsibilities only coming to bother them every once in a while. And it makes it way too easy for Binghe to cover up that he's still hurt, still unstable and still insecure by what went down because Shen Qingqiu is willing to take him at face value when he presents his insecurities as just being shameless neediness for his husband. Of course he happily indulges Binghe! But that isn't really helping with the core of the problem now, does it?

Like, Binghe takes steps towards ensuring Shen Qingqiu's mental wellbeing even at the cost of his own as soon as Maigu Ridge is over when he takes him back to the sect. Shen Qingqiu tries too, in his own way (the entire segment in the tombs is all about him putting himself in very real danger for Binghe's sake) but at the same time, this is a guy who completely missed the writing on the wall that Bingge was deeply unhappy in PIDW. As long as he can hold onto his internal picture that The Protagonist Suffered A Lot But He Is Fine Now I don't think he can really offer the right kind of emotional support for Binghe to actually heal from what happened to him and move on to a healthier frame of mind.

If you take the protagonist halo away, then first of all Binghe can, you know, suck a little. Or a lot, actually. The world not making excuses for him and him being a little defanged would be good for him. He gets really nothing he actually wants from being the protagonist - Shen Qingqiu will love him anyway. Mobei-jun will still stick around to back him up and help him out, because he's still Shang Qinghua's favorite fictional son and Qinghua is happy to see Binghe happy, just, you know, somewhere way over there where he can't get jealous tsundere over Cucumber bro and maybe murder him about it. Sha Hualing is still going to be his buddy because he's her best source of human trivia and the writing inspiration for her girlfriend. Not having to be demon emperor and getting more time to spend with his husband would be a relief.

But he would have to be more aware of other people because he's not above them anymore. Maybe even forced to make a few new friends to get by. And his mask will fail and Shen Qingqiu will have to see him for what he is: just Luo Binghe, still hurt and still confused half demon, who loves him very much, but can't make sense of him and is afraid that he will be left behind or pushed away without explanation again and that's kinda Shen Qingqiu's own damn fault.

And Shen Qingqiu can't hold onto his delusions about The Protagonist. He can't willfully ignore that things are not fine with Binghe because he's not the Protagonist anymore and the world only allows that special privilege for the Protagonist. Binghe is just a guy now and he has so many heart demons he needs help with. His trauma from the abyss or Xin Mo can't be brushed off with 'oh that's just part of his blackening he's fine now' anymore. And it might need a little bit of adjusting to internalize that these problems have always been here just below the surface, but Shen Qingqiu genuinely loves Binghe and would want to help him become happier and more stable in any way he can.

Binghe becoming part of the world in a way that's one person among many - building a support network! maybe befriending new demons or actually getting to know and making up with the QJ disciples or finding common ground with LQG and becoming sparring buddies - rather than a protagonist in a sea of NPCs is a lot more interesting to me than whatever he has going on at the end of canon. And Shen Qingqiu can be there with him on that journey, because he already started unlearning the sense of unreality the System conditioned into him, but he still has a long way to go.

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

I was rewatching The Stone Forest and I really like to think that Hilda had to pass by the Bell Keeper’s outpost on her way out of the city limits. I like to think that idiot looked at what was happening, shrugged, and said ‘eh, she’s the scariest thing out there’

[my-beloved-lakes]

I see a lot of people I knew from school posting pictures on their social medias with all their friends doing various fun things together. Meanwhile, I'm sitting at home wishing I could take a group photo with all my Tumblr mutuals to post so I can brag about having the best friends.

[mettywiththenotes]

I've seen people talk about how they love canceling plans but I don't get that. I hate canceling plans because then I feel so bad. Like aww I couldn't come and now I've made them feel disappointed and I've ruined the night I hope they don't hate me :(

[arts-i-enjoy]

AHHHHHH

[vanibear]

skitters around like a beast. Hii ❤️ok im going 2 go ramble in the tags now👍