#I know this seems mundane but this is like the first shot of the house

[ridiculous-concepts]

These weirdos just having a painting of a shoe hanging in their kitchen

[milfjuulpod]

Taken For A Ride

Downtown celebrating and socializing with your Abbott friends, Melissa seems to be more affectionate towards you than usual, and enjoying every second of it.

warnings: consumption of alcohol, smut, 18+

A/N: hey pookies long time no see, after taking a long break from writing i finally finished something i enjoyed. i hope u all enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it :)

After the stressful few days that was the smoking fiasco, it was needless to say everyone at Abbott Elementary was relieved when Janine was able to help out the troubled student, even if that meant it included the “no smoking” sign somehow being attached to the brick wall. Mr. Johnson never failed to amaze the rest of the crew.

“You know what would be an ironic way to congratulate Janine and celebrate today working out? Going out for drinks and dancing downtown this Friday,” Jacob pitched to the usual suspects on their way out the door for the afternoon.

“Please, you’ll come up with any reason to get us all out and do something. You’re almost as bad as Janine.” Ava retorted. “But…I do know of some PR event happening that night, I could get us all in after a few shots.”

Unsure of your own decision on Jacob’s idea, you just listened to a few of your friends go back and forth between places to go, before settling on somewhat of a decent plan for the weekend. Looking between faces, a pair of jade eyes met yours. Melissa was already looking at you, realizing that caused a light pink spread across your cheeks. Luckily everyone else was busy caught up in the details of it all. Shifting your eyes away from hers, you walked closer to Ava.

“I’ll be at both this event Ava speaks of and whatever bar you all decide beforehand, but I gotta run. Text me the details?” You asked, picking up your pace once you were met with agreement from everyone.

Truthfully, you didn’t have anywhere special to be, but here in the car was better than being a flustered mess in front of the redhead. Melissa had clearly taken a liking towards you. At first it was innocent, her walls slowly coming down in an effort of friendship. Slowly but surely, her favoritism towards you became more and more clear. She always made sure you were close to her when the two of you were in the same room, she would let her touches linger while she watched your face for any sort of reaction. If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume it wasn’t just curiosity, Melissa liked getting such a reaction from you.

You shook your head to clear your thoughts before beginning the drive home. The evening was filled with mundane tasks, grading, cleaning, planning, nothing too out of the ordinary. The rest of the week was similar, mundane, but easy. That was, until Friday. Shortly after you had gotten home from work and started getting ready to meet everyone out, you got a call from Melissa. “Hey you,” came from your end as soon as you picked up.

“Hey sweetheart, can you do me a favor?” Melissa asked over the speaker. You couldn’t see, but you knew she was twirling the end of her hair and lowering her voice on purpose, she always did when she wanted something.

“What is it now, Schemmenti?” You teased her.

“I need you to get ready as quickly as you can and come to my house.” She answered rather quickly.

“And why is that?”

“Because…I don’t know what to wear,” She admitted.

You couldn’t contain the laugh as soon as you heard her answer. She couldn’t be serious, right? “Mel, why do you need me to come all the way to your house for an opinion on an outfit? Can’t you just tell me what you’re wearing or send me pictures? Or, oh! Just FaceTime me.”

“C’mon hon, it can’t possibly take you long to get ready, you look incredible without even trying. Plus, we can carpool. Save the planet.”

You knew it wouldn’t take long for her to convince you. “Fine, I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”

After a few songs and quick outfit adjustments, you were out the door and on your way to Melissa’s. As far as you knew, the clubs Ava tended to go to were more on the luxurious side, so you hoped your bodycon skirt and baby tee were cute enough to get past security. The drive was nice, but not long enough for your nerves to calm down. You had only been to Melissa’s house a few times, you wondered what exactly you had gotten yourself into just as you pulled into the driveway and went up to her front door.

“Hey, did you at least pick out a couple options? Or am I going in completely blind?” You asked, taking a step into her house. Melissa didn’t answer you, though. Instead she quietly shut the door behind you two and very obviously looked you up and down. “This…This what you’re wearin’?” She asked before giving you a once over (again). 

“I was going to, why? Do I not look good?” You began looking at yourself in the mirror in the hallway of her home, trying to fix any imperfections you could have missed. So focused on fixing yourself up, you missed Melissa sneaking up and getting in your space. That is until you could see her dark eyes in the mirror, her lips so close to your ear as she said, “No baby, you look good. Follow me,” She said, and walked away like she didn’t just turn you into the darkest shade of red. 

Upstairs in her room, she motioned for you to sit on the bed while she went into her bathroom. You took a short amount of time to compose yourself and take in your surroundings. It wasn’t messy, but it was lived in, well loved. It was very Melissa, and you wouldn’t expect anything less of the woman. When she emerged, you realized she had color coordinated the two of you. Her white top underneath her jacket matched yours, and her black leather pants matched your skirt. 

“Looks okay?” She asked, fluffing up her hair in the mirror once more before walking over to you. The redhead seemed to sway her hips more as she came closer, drawing more attention to the pants that hugged her tightly. 

            “Y-Yeah Mel, you look good.” You took the opportunity to stand back up and change the subject. “Are you ready to go? Who’s driving?” 

              Melissa gathered the rest of her things and motioned for you to continue ahead of her. “Barb is coming to pick us up, figured we could plan the rest out later since both our cars are at mine anyways,” she said, closing her door and following you down the stairs. You hadn’t considered that at the end of the night, you would be coming back to Melissa’s. Interesting. 

             The ride to the restaurant was nice, a bit of time to catch up for the work wives before meeting everyone else. You, on the other hand, zoned out for most of the ride. It wasn’t until Melissa turned around that you came back to life. “Hon, you in there?” Both her and Barbara were now looking at you, Barbara just stopping the car. 

       “Yeah, sorry. Just taking some me time before giving all my energy to the kids,” You replied, earning a scoff from both Melissa and Barbara. 

       “Those ‘kids’ are the same age as you sweetheart,” Barbara said, turning off the car and getting ready to go in. 

        “Doesn’t mean they don’t tire me out just like actual kids do,” You said, and shut the door behind you. You joined the two older women in stride, Melissa sneaking her hand on your lower back as you three entered the restaurant. It was easy to find your group of friends, all gathered at the high top closest to the bar. “So glad to see you could all make it!” Jacob enthusiastically said as you all sat down. “I have to say Jacob, I’m not mad at the place, so far.” Melissa teased her friend across the table. She reached for a menu in front of her, and turned to you. “Have you been here before?” She asked. 

        “I have, actually. It’s nice, the bar food is surprisingly decent and the bartenders know what they’re doing, which is a nice change of pace,” You answered honestly. The redhead laughed at your response, but it was clear she was genuinely listening to what you had to say. 

       After a few minutes, everyone had ordered a few appetizers and the first round of drinks, courtesy of Ava. “What? Yall think I don’t have principal money?” She laughed. “But you better make this first round worth it, all of yall. Drink up people!” The first round was quick to arrive, and the second round was close behind. “I’ll get this one, just in case I get too drunk and forget to pay for drinks later,” You said, half to your server and half to your friends. 

       Melissa’s hand snaked its way onto your thigh, squeezing it gently. “Don’t get too drunk now, I don’t want you puking in my bed later,” She said quietly to you. You laughed off her teasing, but couldn’t ignore her lingering touch on your thigh. The combination of the alcohol and Melissa’s touch made warmth spread throughout your entire body. 

        She didn’t stop there either. It seemed with each sip she took of her own drink, she was letting go of those walls and showing you more and more affection. As much as you loved the attention, it was driving you crazy. Every time she laughed she would lean into you, followed by meeting your eyes to see if you were laughing as hard as her. Whenever the redhead had a snarky comment to make, she would nuzzle into your hair and whisper it into your ear. Those times were the hardest to get through. 

        Luckily after the third round, everyone decided to change locations. Barbara was the only one who stopped after her first drink, leaving that version of Barbara for another time—someone had to wrangle in the kids. 

        “Alright everyone, whoever is coming to Ava’s club needs to follow me to my car, I’ll be dropping you hooligans off.” She laughed, but everyone knew she cared and would never hesitate to give any one of you a ride. Ava, Janine, Jacob, Melissa, and yourself followed Barbara’s trail in the parking lot. Gregory, despite many pleads from everyone, decided to head home. Something about getting up early for the perfect gardening weather, your memory was foggy since Melissa was drawing patterns on your back at the time. 

       “Wait, we have one too many…Someone has to sit lap. Couldn’t be me though, I get shotgun since I’m giving Barb the directions,” Ava told the group and quickly took her spot in the front. 

       “You’ll be fine, right hon? Besides, I’m a good seatbelt,” Melissa said to you, walking with you to the car and taking her spot without leaving you much choice. You took your seat, and silently prayed the club wasn’t too far away. As soon as Barbara started driving, Melissa had her hands on you. One splayed across your stomach and the other wrapped around your thigh. Luckily Ava was already in party mode and took over the music on the drive, leaving no room for conversation. If you tried talking, you fear it would be full of stutters and gasps. 

        Once everyone got comfortable in the car, Melissa took advantage of the position the two of you were in. She lowered her hand a bit on your stomach and tightened her grip on your thigh. You could feel her nails through your skirt and you attempted to close your legs more to get her to ease up, but of course it didn’t work. You felt her lips against the shell of your ear for a split second before you heard her voice. 

        “Stop squirming so much baby, or I’ll really have to hold you down.”

        Although the music was loud, you knew Melissa was close enough to hear the whine that escaped you. And if she didn’t, she certainly felt your body’s reaction to her. Just a minute later you were thanking your lucky stars as Barbara pulled up to the club and lowered the music. You knew you were blushing, way too warm, just an absolute mess thanks to the woman underneath you. 

        “Alright kiddos, have fun and be safe! Everyone please get home safely, and make good decisions!” Barbara said her goodbye, and everyone thanked her as they made their exit. Ava led the way to the bouncer, and though you took the opportunity in the cold air to calm down, Melissa stayed close by. Even when Jacob started talking about the famous drinks they had here, she pretended to listen all while keeping her beautiful green eyes focused on you. She was driving you insane. 

       As soon as Ava got everyone to their VIP spot and drink orders were placed, you took off to the bathroom. Cold water and alone time was exactly what you needed. You stood in front of the bathroom mirror obsessively looking yourself over, worried that the whole club would somehow be able to tell Melissa had you wrapped around her finger and was tugging on the string like a play toy. Focused on the cool water on your hands as you began to turn on the sink, you missed the sound of the door opening. 

        “Everything okay, hon? You left pretty quickly. Don’t tell me Jacob’s list of ingredients scared you from the drink you ordered,” Melissa’s voice was heard from behind you. Quickly you turned off the faucet and faced her, your body betraying your mind in an instant. “Please, not much could scare me off from a drink at a place with a bar like this one,” you joked. She took a few steps closer, inching you against the back of the counter. 

        “Then what’s going on, amore?” She asked, but there was a tone in her voice you couldn’t pinpoint. The nickname didn’t help your state either, it never did. “N-Nothing Mel, everything’s okay.” You would’ve walked away at this point if you didn’t feel cornered by such a beautiful woman. 

        As if a switch flipped in her, Melissa put her hands by your sides on the counter and pressed herself against you gently. “Don’t lie to me, I could sit here all night,” she said lowly. 

       “Melissa…” was all you were able to get out. She pushed herself against you harder, her breasts flush with yours at this point. “I’ll ask you one more time. What’s going on?”

       “I…You’ve been teasing me all night,” You felt Melissa put her hands over yours on the counter and squeeze them gently. “Mmm, I haven’t been that mean, have I? I figured most of my attitude tonight was directed towards Janine, not you dolcezza mia,” She tightened her grip on your hands with her last two words. If she wasn’t making your body feel on fire, you would’ve rolled your eyes just then. 

       “You know that’s not what I mean Melissa,” You said sharply, growing tired of this game with her. “Oh, this teasing then?” She asked, and a second later had her thigh pressed against your core, bodies closer than they ever have been. You groaned at the feeling and had to fight every urge to not grind against her in that moment. All you could do was nod, which drove Melissa crazy. You didn’t know it yet, but she loved teasing you until you couldn’t take it anymore, making you beg and plead for what you want. 

         “Aww, you poor thing, let me help you then.” Melissa slowly began rubbing her thigh back and forth against you, and captured your lips in hers to keep you quiet. She let go of your hands and let you touch her, and you wasted no time pulling her closer. The older woman moaned at how tightly and desperately you pulled at her. She broke apart the kiss to continue her way down your jaw and throat, and you felt her use her leg to open yours even more. 

       “Melissa…S-Someone could walk in,” you said between gasps. “No they won’t, I locked the door behind me,” She stopped kissing you for a moment to smile up at you, and you realized Melissa had planned this, and you went right along with it. In your moment of distraction, Melissa had pulled your skirt up, and it wasn’t until you felt her nails on your thighs again you realized it. “God, Melissa, you’ve been teasing me all night…please,” You muttered. 

        “Please what, my love?” You rolled your eyes at her response, to which Melissa dug her nails harder into your skin. 

        “Please touch me, fuck me, I need to feel you. I need you.” At your words Melissa brought her lips back up to yours, ever so slightly brushing them together. “Good girl.”

        Melissa tugged your underwear to the side and slowly drew a finger up and down your center. The bathroom was filled with your moans and Melissa’s gentle shushes and kisses across your body. She didn’t hesitate giving you exactly what you wanted, the feeling of her fingers inside you bringing you closer and closer to the edge every passing second. Her lips felt so soft as they left red and purple marks along your neck, her perfume surrounded you entirely, all you could feel was her. Opening your eyes, you looked at her. Her red hair falling across the two of you, the way her pants looked so good on her tonight, her fingers pumping in and out of you. 

        “Baby I’m s-so close…please Melissa,” You moaned. She kissed her way back up, stopped right by your ear again and said, “Let go sweetheart, let it all go for me.” After a few more touches, you rode your orgasm out against Melissa, overstimulated from the senses. She let you catch your breath, every once in a while planting a gentle kiss somewhere she left a mark earlier. Once you opened your eyes and met her green ones again, she spoke up. “Hi beautiful.”

        “Hi,” you giggled out. You felt higher than ever, post alcohol and orgasm. Melissa took your hands again and helped you stand up straight, adjusting your skirt in the process. It was sweet seeing her like this, so caring without having to say a word. You pulled her back up to you, kissing her again. This time it was less rushed, and you hoped she could feel your admiration and gratefulness in it all. 

         “I guess we should go back out there before our drinks get watered down,” Melissa said once the two of you finally pulled apart. “Yeah, I guess. But only if you let me hear what your moans sound like when we get home,” You replied. 

      Melissa giggled and led the two of you to the door, “Deal.”

[hellodarling1357]

Could I request Cass trying to seduce and get readers attention who’s playing hard to get? I need more flirty Cass 😩

Touched by an Angel - Cassian x Reader

This request was so much fun to write!!! Thanks for sending it in lovely anon, hopefully you like it 💕

Excuse the cheesy pickup lines, you know I had to do it…

I’m slowly working through my WIPs and inbox so please send me some more requests!!

Enjoy 🥰

Word Count: 3k

Regardless of the fact that you and Mor had been friends for well over two centuries, Rhy was only just now granting you access into Velaris after much persuasion from his cousin. The plan being you were to stay with Mor for two weeks while she had some time off from her work so that you could properly catch up after being apart for far too long.

Your first night in the City of Starlight was an eventful one to say the least. During the day, you had let Mor show you around the markets and the Rainbow, stopping to have a late lunch along the Sidra, before she dragged you back to her place to get ready for a night out at Rita's. You had heard a lot about the club over your years of friendship, so you were excited to experience a night there for yourself.

After a few too many glasses of wine over the time it took to get ready, you were well on your way to being very, very drunk before you even stepped inside the crowded establishment. Straight away, Mor was pulling you to the bar before promptly placing a shot glass of some pink-looking drink into your hand, followed by another, and another, leaving you feeling giddy with excitement and the overwhelming desire to dance.

So dance you did.

The hours passed and you briefly remember being introduced to some of Mor's friends, not paying much attention as the music and sway of bodies consumed you. However, the overwhelming heat of the swarm of fae pressed so tightly around you eventually got the better of you. You turned on the spot, looking for you friend to tell her you were going to take a breather, only to find her wrapped around a female and very clearly distracted. With a grin spread across your face, you pushed your way through the masses and headed towards the door.

The fresh air was a welcoming change to the stuffiness you had walked out of. But it was the sight before you that had an expression of awe sketched across your face. Velaris had been pretty in the daylight, but at night? You had never seen anything like it.

"It sure is something, isn't it?" You whipped around to face the deep voice that had spoken from behind you.

"I know you." It wasn't a question. The male in front of you did look familiar.

"Yeah, I'm Cassian. One of Mor's friends. We met earlier?" You nodded with a vague recollection of the tall, muscled figure who had seemed to tower over the rest of the dancing fae.

"Right," But you were distracted by the slanted smirk of his full lips, the slight alcohol-induced haze in his eyes tracked your every movement.

You lent side-by-side against the alleyway wall, talking about whatever mundane thing came to mind before an 'acceptable' enough amount of time had passed, then Cassian had you pressed against said wall. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, his mouth attacking your neck with bruising kisses, while you moaned out, not caring who heard, at the feel of him inside you. With a final cry, you became undone in his arms, squeezing around him until he came with a guttural groan. You held onto him for support as he helped steady you back onto your feet, afraid your knees would give out as you panted into the chill night air, the thrum of music and excited chatter reminding you of where you were.

"Well, I should probably...," you motioned behind you towards the door, "Mor is probably looking for me."

"Right. I'll see you later, yeah?"

Cassian waited until you had walked back inside Rita's before deciding to call it a, very pleasant, night and flew back to the House of Wind.

*****

You awoke the next morning with a pounding headache, your stomach churning in a sickly way as the sunlight pooled in through the open curtains.

Mor let out a groan next to you, slamming a pillow over her face before soft snores sounded again. With a groan of your own, you forced yourself out of bed and headed to the bathroom.

You looked like absolute shit.

Your hair was a mess on top of your head, strands having escaped the band you used to pull it out of your face. Dark smudges were smeared around your eyes, a stark contrast to the pale and clammy complexion of your skin. Your eyebrows furrowed even further at the sight of the splattering of hickeys that trailed along the side of your neck and across your chest. Clearly it had been a bigger night than you thought because you had zero recollection of how, or when, they got there. Or, more importantly, who gave them to you.

"You look like you've been attacked by a leech."

You shoved Mor as she stood beside you, observing herself in the mirror with a frown. She looked just as bad, if not worse, than you did.

"You can fuck right off, thank you very much." Your friend just shot you a stunning, if not slightly pained, grin.

"Ugh, come on. Showers then we're going to Rhys' for breakfast," She chucked you a towel before walking out to give you some privacy.

As if in after thought, she threw over her shoulder, "Want me to leave a scarf out for you to cover them up?" You slammed the door in her face, the wooden panel not blocking out her laughter as she asked, "Or would you prefer a jumper? Something with a high neckline?"

*****

Walking past the gate of the High Lord's town house, you knew should definitely be feeling somewhat nervous as the prospect of having a casual, albeit hungover, breakfast with him and his inner circle. But the fact that you were hungover, and that the heavenly smell of bacon was wafting towards you, had all pretences flying out the window.

You and Mor were the first to arrive, or more like, the first to drag yourselves out of bed, so had first dibs of the spread of food before you.

Looking a little green, Mor mumbled something about needing to get some fresh air, leaving you alone to eat your eggs in peace. That peace was short lived, however, as the sound of heavy footfalls coming down the stairs reminded you that there were others in the house, and whose house it was for that matter.

Mor waltzed into the room at the same time as the three Illyrian males, you knew Rhys straight away, having met him a few times throughout the years, but the other two only looked vaguely familiar. You were sure you could pinpoint their names if you thought about it hard enough but, alas, your brain was still not properly functioning.

There was a chorus of muffled "mornings" but other than that, everyone was content to eat, and suffer, in silence.

You eventually got up, taking a pile of dishes into the kitchen, vaguely aware of one of the males following behind you.

He let out a low whistle before saying, "Well, I clearly left an impression."

Your brows furrowed in confusion, turning to face the male as you studied his face.

"Do I know you?" Under normal circumstances, you wouldn't have been so blunt. You would have at least tried to feign some sort of confusion, 'I thought you looked familiar', 'of course, what was your name again?' but with your head still spinning you couldn't bring yourself to care.

"Yes," He let out a laugh that quickly faltered as your evident confusion remained, "We had sex. Last night…"

You blinked as he waved a hand towards your neck, where the marks were still very clearly visible. But before you could say anything, laughter sounded from the other room as a stream of taunts filtered in.

"I thought you said that you were good in bed, Cass. That's just embarrassing, not even a few hours later and poor Y/N has already forgotten all about you."

“Left an impression, my ass.”

Cassian

That's right, you could place him now. Him, and the somewhat blurred memory of frantic and passionate kisses, muscled arms holding you tightly, the sounds of...

Yep, you remembered.

Clearly not deterred in the slightest, Cassian gave you a dazzling smile, running a hand through his tousled hair before saying with a wink, "That's alright, I'll just have to make it more memorable for you next time."

You scrunched your nose at the implication. Sure, he was attractive. Honestly, one of the most attractive males you had ever laid eyes on. But you knew better than to fall for the clearly tried-and-tested smirk that you had no doubt had been used on countless females before you.

"Thanks," You noted the glint in his eyes as he continued fixing you with that intent glaze, "but I'll pass."

You walked towards the collection of snorts and laughter as you left Cassian standing in the kitchen with the stack of dishes, a slightly dumbfounded expression on his face.

*****

A few days into your visit, Mor had left you to your own devices for a few hours, which was how you ended up stretched out on one of the seats in the town house's garden, a book in hand as you basked in the sun. You were slightly aware of the back door opening and closing but paid it no real heed, that is, until the shadow of someone standing in front of you pulled your eyes away from the page.

You looked up expectantly, already anticipating the direction the conversation was heading in; having grown accustomed to Cassian's flirtations and not so subtle attempts of wooing you since that first morning.

"Is this seat taken?"

You looked towards the empty seat he was pointing at, and the one beside it, and the one beside that.

"Yes, it is. No go away, you're blocking the sun." You looked back down at your book, not sparing him a second glance.

"We can't have that now, can we, sweetheart?"

For a moment you thought he had actually listened to you and was heading back inside, that is until you quickly glanced up and found him sprawled across the glass, staring up at you with a smirk.

"What? You said that seat was taken. And at least from down here I'm not blocking the sun. You don't mind if I join you, do you?"

You stared ahead in frustration before letting out a huff as you returned to your book, not missing the grin that had spread over Cassian's face at your reaction.

A few minutes of silenced had passed, you had almost forgotten about Cassian's presence until he let out a soft laugh and said, "I hope you don't mind me saying, but you, right now, the way the sun is shining on you, you look like an absolute vision."

You shifted in your seat trying to ignore the irritation that simmered away.

"What is this? What are you doing?" You snapped back, not giving him a chance to answer, "Is this your way of flirting with me?"

Without missing a beat, Cassian answered, "Yes. Is it working?"

The wink he sent you had your indignantly moving your book up to block him out, and to prevent him from seeing the traitorous blush that spread across your cheeks.

*****

A few night later, you were having dinner with Mor and the rest of the inner circle, having grown quite close to some of them over the week you had been staying.

"You know what I don't get?" Cassian, who sat across from you, asked, "What I don't get, is how someone as beautiful as you could possibly be single. And, the funny thing is, I also happen to be single, but we can easily change that. How about it, Y/N? Fancy a drink?"

"Oh, I would but... I've already got one. Thanks anyway." You gave him a pretty little smile as you raised your glass before turning back to your conversation with Mor and Amren.

"Better luck next time," You heard Azriel say through a laugh as Rhys ruffled Cassian's hair.

*****

The next time you saw Cassian, he had run into the kitchen at an alarming speed, a slight look of panic in his eyes as you cautiously observed him.

“Y/N, I’m being serious, I need your help,” Your eyes crinkled in concern, “Please. Can I please borrow a kiss? I promise I’ll give it back.”

The faux-panicked look was quickly overtaken by a wide cheesy grin as he leant in towards you.

“Cassian,” You yelled, whacking him with a tea towel, “You prick! I thought something serious happened.”

“Something serious did happen, Y/N. The night we met, and you stole my heart… That alleyway will never be the same after what we shared there.”

You threw the tea towel at him as you stomped out of the room, passing a confused looking Mor, who, upon seeing Cassian standing there with a lovesick grin, rolled her eyes and followed after you.

*****

“I don’t get why you don’t just say yes,” Mor said as you heavily sipped from a glass of wine back at her apartment. “He’s one of the good ones, Y/N. Take away all of the cringy pick-up lines and I think he’s serious about wanting to take you out, he really does like you.”

“It’s not that easy…”

“No? What’s not easy about it?”

You starred at her, not wanting to say what was on your mind. She was just as stubborn though, if not even more so than you, so stared right back with a quirked eyebrow as she waited for your explanation.

Huffing in defeat, you flopped back onto the couch and let out a sigh.

“It’s not easy, Mor, because there’s no point. I leave in a few days so why start something up when it’s not going to last.”

“You don’t have to,” Mor sat herself beside you, wrapping an arm around you as you leant your head on her shoulder, “leave that is. You could stay.”

“Right,” You let out a sharp laugh, “Let me just pack up my whole life and move across Prythian for a guy I’ve known all of ten days.”

“Or,” Mor counted, sending her elbow into her ribs, “You could move across Prythian for your dearest friend who has missed you like crazy and knows that you’re miserable back home. The guy could just be a nice bonus on the side.”

You sat up, staring at your friend as you mulled over her words.

“Move here? Is that allowed? Where would I even live?”

“Yes, it is. I already spoke to Rhys about it, he would love for you to stay, said he’s already got some potential work lined up if you’re interested. And, obviously, you can stay with me until you find your own place.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Huh. Now that was a thought.

“If I moved, that’s an if, not a yes, it would be for you, not because of…him”.

“I would hope so. Though I’m sure Cassian wouldn’t mind in the slightest.”

The knowing grin and wink she gave you had your cheeks reddening as you lifted a pillow to cover your blush. Mor just pulled you back against her side, knowing that your hesitancy to move was just a front and that you would be packed, moved and settled in Velaris within the week.

*****

It was, technically, your last night in Velaris before you went back home to pack up your belongings. After talking out the logistics with Mor and Rhys, you had excitedly agreed to move and become an official citizen and member of the Night Court.

You had spent the afternoon with Mor looking at potential apartments before making your way to Rita’s for a ‘goodbye’ drink with the rest of the inner circle.

After tossing and turning all of the previous night, you had come to the decision that moving to a new city, a new court, signified the beginning of a new chapter. So why not throw caution to the wind and see how things played out with a certain Illyrian male who was currently standing by himself at the bar while he waited to be served.

“Hey,” You somewhat yelled over the music and laughter of the fae around you.

Cassian did a double-take before dramatically clutching at his chest, “Y/N, it should be illegal to look that good, it’s not fair on the rest of the females here.”

You rolled your eyes, but your usual snarky remark didn’t follow.

“I know our time together is limited,” Cassian continued, the dramatic tone still lacing his voice, “But before you leave us behind, would you at least just grab my hand, just for a moment, so that I can tell everyone I’ve been touched by an angel?”

Shaking your head as he grinned down at you, you relented and grabbed his hand. He was quick to slip his fingers through yours with a satisfied smile.

“I’m not leaving,” You said, very much aware that your fingers were still laced together, “Well, I am. But Mor convinced me to move here, so I’ll be back in a week or so.”

Cassian’s eyebrows shot up, shock settling over his features. Clearly no one had told him of your plans.

“Oh?

“Yep.”

You were interrupted by the bartender as Cassian ordered you both a drink before turning back to you with a quizzical expression.

There was a beat of silence in which your hands were still interlocked, Cassian’s thumb absentmindedly caressing the back of your hand, and you watched one another for a moment, as if seeing each other in a different light.

“Your way of flirting is truly awful, by the way.” You teased with a small smile. With the way Cassian was looking at you, there was no chance of attempting to stop your blush.

“But is it working?

“Maybe…”

[thatuselesshuman]

Casper's 101 guide to improving your writing

So uh I'm not at all qualified to tell you how to write but someone irl told me I should make a guide so here it is. This is how I learned to write, and I like to think I'm not that terrible

Step One: Read

It's difficult to learn to write if you don't have the base material. It's like cooking, if you never eat different foods then your food will be bland cause you don't know what flavors are out there. Reading is the best thing you can do to when you start getting into writing. It'll tell you what your preferences are and it'll expand your vocabulary (both very important steps!). It'll tell you what POV you want to write in, certain words that give you the ick, plot points you enjoy, genres you like, how many mistakes you can tolerate, styles of writing you enjoy, etc.

Note: don't just read prim and proper books. Read fanfiction, read manga, read manhwa, read webnovels, read anything and everything that catches your eye. They all have their different qualities, and they're all better at doing one thing or another. Read, read, and read some more.

Step Two: Start Small, and Start Enjoyably

No sane person starts out writing massive novels out of the gate. A novel is a massive undertaking, and if you do it incorrectly it's a great way to kill your enjoyment though writer's block. What you're going to want to start with is short stories, one shots on Ao3, etc. Write small stories that are manageable and write a lot of them. Write stuff you enjoy as well, since you're not trying to impress anyone. This step is to dip your toes into the world of writing and kindle a good starting flame so you don't crumble into the ground the first time you hit writer's block.

Note: Don't be afraid to start with nitty gritty stuff if that's what you enjoy writing. I personally started with heavy angst, whump, torture, and the like because that's what interested me. That's what I wanted to write. There's nothing wrong with writing whatever the hell you want. I stand by the fact that censorship is the death of art.

Step Three: Practice Detail

Have you ever looked at a passage while reading and thought 'huh, this description is really bland'? Well I have. A mark of a good writer is being able to describe everything down to the dirt (not that you always should, but that's another lesson for another day). You may think that it should be easy to describe things in detail, but trust me when I say that it's a skill. Some ways you can practice are:

Describe your room in excruciating detail through brush strokes (like you would a painting)

Describe a mundane object through the lens of someone from the far past

Describe the nature around your house in abstract shapes

Describe a waterfall through the perspective of someone who has never seen one in their life

There are plenty more, but here are some to get you started.

Step Four: Grammar

Trust me when I say this is most people's least favorite step. It's boring, I know, but knowing how to utilized commas, ellipses, — <- these things, semicolons, etc, is a relatively easy way to instantly boost your writing. No one likes to read a story where it seems like the author hasn't seen a period in their life.

Note: This is just general advice, but if you wouldn't want to read it, then don't write it. That's another reason why the first step of reading is important.

Step Five: Share Your Writing With People

Whether you share it with strangers (like I did) or people you know, sharing your writing is an amazing way to get advice and feedback. It's also a great way to meet people who have the same interests as you. Writing is a bubble with no outside interaction makes it harder to get better at writing because it's easy to have rose-tinted glasses about your writing. It's also easy to think your writing is ass, even if it's really not. Having people around you who will tell you the truth is great as a reality check whenever you're blind to how things are.

Step Six: Write Until Your Hands Hurt

This is the step that always shows up on writing how-tos, and I'm not immune to it either. The reason everyone says to write a ton is because you're never gonna get better or have a passion for writing if you never do it. It's like art or a sport, how the hell do you expect to get better if you never touch a pencil or never pick up the ball? Divine intervention? I mean that is possible but unless you're writing the Bible then I don't think God is going to bless you miraculously with amazing writing skills. It's like anything in life, practice makes progress.

Everyone starts out terribly, and there's always going to be that 8 year old prodigy who's better than you, but that's not why writers write. We write because if we don't, the voices hunt us down-

Anyways, jokes aside, that's my guide to writing. I don't think it's too terrible, but that could just be the glasses I mentioned in the fifth step speaking.

[sajirah]

Come Away O Human Child

Part One

I did a thing. And by that, I mean I spent the last week writing the most problematic filth ever. I'm sorry, but also maybe...you're welcome? I hope you all like very evil!Rhys (and he is evil in this. If that's not your jam, please keep scrolling and take care of yourselves).

Trigger Warnings Include: Dubious Consent, Kidnapping, Mental and Sexual Coercion, and a severe Power Imbalance.

Anyway, thank you to @whatishowedyouinthedark for being the most wonderful, supportive, and unhinged cheerleader while I was writing this. This one's all for you. I hope you like it.

(To be clear, this is Part One of Two. Maybe Three. I tried to make this a one-shot and then it got stupidly long so here we are)

Read on AO3 or down below. Enjoy.

-o0o-

People disappear all the time. 

Once, the world had been a more mundane place. At least that’s what Nesta would tell her sister in those rare, quiet moments when they were lucky enough to find someplace safe to hunker down. Feyre herself could barely even remember that world. She’d been so young when the disappearances began. 

At first, they had been treated like any other missing person case. Someone would go missing. Police would be called. Investigations and manhunts would ensue. And then, when no person or body was found, everyone would give up and mourn. 

But then more people began to go missing. 

And more. 

And more. 

By the time Feyre saw her tenth birthday, almost everyone she knew had lost someone. Fathers who left for work and never returned. Mothers who vanished without a trace after running to the grocery store. Children who disappeared on the walk between home and school. One by one people vanished from the world like so much smoke, leaving families bereft and society ever more paranoid. Ever more frightened of one another. 

Who was taking everyone? Where were they going? Why had no one ever been found?

Rumors ran rampant. 

“It’s the deep state!” One man had cried on a street corner Feyre and her sisters passed by on their way to the store. 

“It’s aliens!” another, a neighbor, had whispered fervently while stopping by one day. “They’ve come to use us as breeders!” 

But just before Feyre could ask him what a breeder was, Nesta had hustled her back into the house, glaring at the old man. Not that it had mattered in the end. He had disappeared like all the rest. There one day and then gone the next. 

Feyre was pulled out of school after that. 

Her days became an endless malaise of watching cartoons while her sisters whispered fearfully in the background. None of them dared leave the house anymore. Elain started growing vegetables in their garden. Nesta began taking stock of everything they had in the house. 

And then their father never came home. 

Things spiraled quickly then. 

Nesta had tried to call the police. Only the once. Whatever they had said to her on the other line, Feyre didn’t know. What she did know though, was that afterwards Nesta behaved, for all intents and purposes, as if their father were gone on an especially long work trip and had just forgotten to tell them. 

“We just have to take care of ourselves until he gets back,” she had said to her wide-eyed sisters. 

“But nobody comes back Nesta!” Feyre had exclaimed in a panic. 

But Nesta couldn’t be swayed. 

Eventually they gave up on making her see reason. What did it matter? They were orphans either way. 

They weren’t exactly sure when society had finally fallen apart, having sequestered themselves so thoroughly within their home, but Feyre suspected it was sometime around when she had turned the TV on one morning and was greeted by an endless wall of static. Every channel had been like that. No cartoons. No 24 hour news cycle. Not even the boring soap operas and reality TV her sisters seemed so fond of. 

The power went out soon after. 

In the end, it was Elain’s abduction that clued them in to what was happening. 

Because that was what it was: an abduction. 

She had been out in the garden when it happened. They all had. They knew better by then to never be alone. Where one sister went the others followed, terrified of never seeing each other again. Feyre had been watching her older sister tend their wilted cabbages when he appeared. 

From one blink to the next there had suddenly been four people in that garden, where once there had been three. 

He had been beautiful. That’s what she remembered best. That flawless tawny skin and rust-red hair. Those feline eyes that reminded Feyre of a fox. Clever and curious and wild. 

There hasn’t even been time for her to react. To stand up. To do anything before the strange man had pulled Elain into his arms like she belonged there and then…vanished. Gone almost as soon as he appeared. Their sister with him. 

They never saw Elain ever again.

That had been five years ago. 

-o0o-

They had run out of food. 

They had gotten by for a while raiding the homes of their neighbors. The ones who had disappeared. They hadn’t dared venture out further than that. But even their neighbors’ pantries could only feed them for so long before they had to resort to drastic measures. 

It was Feyre who finally forced Nesta’s hand. 

“We’re going to starve Ness.”

And her sister had looked at her then. Feyre, her only sister left. Her only family left. So bony and gaunt that her too small clothes gaped over her like they were three sizes too big and not Elain’s shrunken cast offs from middle school. 

They left the house that same day. 

It was easy to pinpoint the houses that were abandoned. The still-occupied ones were boarded up, the windows covered in newspaper, as if the inhabitants were terrified that kidnappers would waltz up to their windows to peer inside for fresh victims. But the abandoned houses…they looked for all the world as if the owners had just stepped out for a trip to the store and would be back at any moment. 

For those houses, it was a simple matter of tossing a rock through a window and then helping themselves to everything inside. 

No one stopped them. 

And, for a while, they survived that way. 

…But, eventually, that food ran out too. 

They started braving the next street over. 

And the next. 

And the next. 

Until, once day, Feyre found she and her sister wandering into the empty city streets, miles from their house. 

“Don’t you think this place would’ve been picked clean by now?” She whispered to Nesta warily, eyeing the overgrown sidewalks and silent crosswalk. 

They passed by an abandoned car by the side of the road. It had been so long since she’d seen a car and she marveled at it, remembering the rumble it would’ve made when it was running. 

“We don’t have a lot of other options,” her sister replied testily. 

“Yeah, but-”

He came without warning. 

She heard Nesta gasp. That’s how she knew what she would see before she spun around. 

And there he was. 

One of them. 

He was just as beautiful as the man who had taken Elain all those years ago. But he had an edge to him that the other hadn’t. Where that man had been a fox, here was a dragon. Powerful and dangerous and hungry. 

She couldn’t stop staring at his eyes. Like purple little jewels that burned straight into her soul. 

“There you are,” the man sighed, as if she were a wayward pet. “I’ve been looking for you.”

She felt something in her head then, like an itch she couldn’t scratch, before realizing with horror that it was him. 

Come along my little mate. Time for us to go home. 

Feyre didn’t even have time to cast one last glance at her sister before the man pulled her close and then-

-o0o-

She startled awake. 

Wait, had she been asleep?

Feyre blinked around at unfamiliar surroundings. A lavish room. A plush bed. And not a single modern amenity in sight. 

Where was she?

“Home.” The voice caught her so off guard she nearly jumped out of her skin. 

And there, in the corner by the door, was her captor. He leaned against the wall, peering back at her curiously. She wasn’t fooled though. She could feel that foreign sensation in her head again, rifling around like he belonged there. 

“But I do belong there my love,” he drawled amusedly. “You are mine after all. But don’t you worry. I take such very good care of my things.” 

A shiver rolled down Feyre’s spine. Danger, her instincts whispered. 

“I…I don’t…” She stumbled over her words, terror and adrenaline making her shake. 

She felt like a pair of claws were caging her mind. Like a cat gently holding down the tail of a mouse. Playing with its food. 

“…Please…” she whispered. “Please let me go.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he said, and then he was suddenly sitting on the bed beside her, looming over her. 

Feyre wanted to flee. She tried to flee. But her body wouldn’t move. It seemed no longer under her command. Those claws gripping her brain a little tighter. Encouraging her body’s obedience even when she herself was screaming at it to move. 

“Calm now. There’s a good girl.”

It was like getting a heavy dose of Xanax injected directly into her brain. Her racing heart slowed. Her terror cooled. She felt dizzy. Sleepy. 

Docile. 

He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. 

“Sleep my love.”

And she did. 

-o0o-

He wasn’t there when she woke up. 

She checked every corner (even under the bed, to assuage her childish instincts). But her strange, beautiful, cruel captor didn’t make any further appearances. 

So, of course, she immediately went looking for the exit. 

It seemed to be…a palace, she was in. Or, at least, what she could only describe as one. An endless series of extravagant rooms and shiny marble floors. Fine tapestries and luxurious furnishings. But no phones. No computers. No electronics of any kind. Not even a single electrical outlet. It was like she’d been plucked from one century and deposited into another. 

Eventually, she finally stumbled upon an open air balcony. 

The view was stunning. 

It also led to a thousand foot drop. 

Feyre stared out at a looming mountain range and thick greenery. And not a single sign of civilization to be had. Where the fuck was she? 

It was there that he finally found her, contemplating her escape route. 

“Enjoying the fresh air?”

Feyre felt her blood freeze. 

She didn’t even need to turn. He strolled up from behind her, all predatory grace and flashing teeth, before leaning back against the bannister to face her. 

Maybe she could push him over? How much momentum would she even need?

“Vicious little thing aren’t you?” the man grinned at her like a proud parent. “Plotting my demise already? Surely you can do better than shoving me off a cliff.”

Feyre choked. “What…how…?!”

The man tapped his temple. 

“I can hear your thoughts my love. Every last one.”

Oh. Oh fuck. 

“Yes, even those ones.” He was being…very chill about the whole trying to escape thing. It made her antsy. 

“Oh you’re more than welcome to try and find a way out. In fact…” he gave her a feline smile. “I’ll make a bargain with you.”

Feyre stared at him. She felt like a fly being baited by a spider. This had to be a trap. In fact, there was no way it wasn’t a trap. But then, no one had ever said she was smart. In fact, Nesta routinely told her the opposite. 

“What kind of bargain?”

The man looked delighted. A terrible sign. 

“Scour my home for a way out. If you find one and actually manage to leave, you’re free to go.”

She narrowed her eyes. That sounded far too good to be true. 

“And?”

“And, if at the end of every night you still remain in my home, you will submit to me until dawn.”

Feyre gazed over his shoulder at the open sky. She would be dumb to agree. There was no way he’d even keep his end of the bargain. After all, he was a creepy kidnapper. If he snatched women so easily off the street who was to say he any shred of integrity at all?

“Not every woman,” he said, amused. “Just you.”

She scowled. 

“Deal.”

The moment she said that word, a strange itching sensation encompassed her hand. Frowning, Feyre glanced down and gasped in horror. 

“What the fuck?!”

Her entire forearm was covered in an intricate tattoo, from elbow to fingertips. At the center of her hand, a wide all-seeing eye stared back at her. 

“Oh yes, I forgot to mention. Here, bargains are sealed with magic. So there will be no…how do you say? Take backs?”

Feyre could only glare back at him murderously. 

“Enjoy your treasure hunt my love.” He said gleefully. “I’ll be back to collect on my dues at nightfall.”

And then he was gone. 

-o0o-

She was frantic by the time night came. 

Every hallway she traversed led her in circles. Every door she opened led to another room. Every window was either sealed shut or opened to a frighteningly steep drop into the valley below. Far, far below. 

By the time her captor returned Feyre had started smashing things out of sheer frustration. 

“A sore loser I see.”

Feyre bared her teeth and threw a vase at his head. Unfortunately for her, he easily dodged it and it crashed against the wall. The sound it made as it broke and its pieces scattered healed something inside of her, even as her heart sped up with dread. 

“Time to pay up my dear.”

“You never even specified what submit means!”

The man smiled that cat-like smile of his. “I didn’t did I?”

Oh. So that had been his trap. What an idiot she was. 

“You can’t make me do anything.”

“Oh my love. I think you’ll find that I very much can.” His voice was almost pitying. Almost. “But, even putting aside that…you made a bargain.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything my dear,” he said simply. As if it really were that simple. “Bargains are made with magic. And magic is binding. Once a bargain is struck it cannot be undone. And you will be forced to comply with your end of the deal. Whether you like it or not.”

Feyre’s head spun. 

Magic? Surely this was a joke?

But then where had that tattoo come from? A little voice in her head asked.

“I forget sometimes that you humans don’t have magic in your world.”

You humans?

For the first time, Feyre took a close, hard look at her captor. As always, her eyes caught on his perfect face and broad shoulders…but then, the longer she looked, the more she began to notice other things. His unnatural purple eyes. His strangely pointed ears. And the way that darkness seemed to cling to him even when he stood directly in the light.

“…What are you?”

White teeth flashed wide in a shark’s grin. 

“I am yours. And you are mine,” he said. “And now, little love, it is time to uphold your end of the bargain.”

-o0o-

His first order of submission, as it turned out, was for them to have dinner. 

He brought her to a little sitting room where a table laden with more food than she’d seen in years lay invitingly. He didn’t even need to compel her to sit down. She fell on the food like the starving woman she was. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d eaten anything. Two days ago? Three?

Her captor only smiled. Strangely pleased to see such feral table manners. As she tore into a meat pie though, she suddenly noticed something. 

His plate was empty. 

Feyre glanced down at the roasted vegetables and spiced meat she’d been tearing into and suddenly felt her stomach curdle with alarm. Had the food been drugged? Poisoned?! 

“Now why would I do that after all the trouble I took in getting you here?” The man said dismissively. 

Then why aren’t you eating? She couldn’t help but think.

“Simple,” he said patting his lap. “You’re going to feed me.” 

Before she could work herself into a lather again though, he slithered into her brain like a python and squeezed. Immediately, her body sprang into action, sliding onto his lap as if this were a well practiced maneuver and not the first time she’d ever sat on anyone’s lap outside of her father’s. 

“Well. Go on.” He said the words flippantly but Feyre almost thought she could hear an undercurrent of…anticipation?

Annoyed, she plucked a grape off the table and shoved it into his mouth. 

He didn’t have the reaction she was expecting though. There was no sarcastic, taunting remark. No predatory grin. Just dilated pupils and a ragged inhale as soon as he swallowed the piece of fruit. Like he was shocked. 

Or excited. 

“What-“ was all she managed to get out before he swept his arm out behind her and knocked all of the food to the ground. 

“Hey!” She cried, outraged. That amount of food could’ve fed she and Nesta for a month. 

He wasn’t listening though. Instead, he was too busy hauling her up onto the tabletop. Their clothes suddenly vanished between one moment and the next and she barely had time to properly process that fact before she felt a warm, wet tongue swipe up her neck. 

Her whole body broke into shivers. 

What…what was happening? How did she go from eating dinner with her kidnapper to this?

“You’re mine,” he rasped against her neck. He seemed…rapturous. Drugged. 

“Only by the smell of your sweet cunt,” he answered her thoughts as he spread her legs wide even as she tried to snap them shut. 

“Wh-what?!”

No one had ever spoken to her this way. Who even could have? She hadn’t seen or spoken to another human being outside of her sisters in years. But before she could voice any of this he chased those words right back into her mouth with his own. 

It wasn’t like any kiss she’d seen on tv as a child. Romantic or passionate or tender. Instead, he grasped her neck, fingers spanning from ear to collarbone, holding her firmly in place so he could plunder her mouth with his tongue. Below, she felt something thick and hard prod between her legs. 

All she could do was gasp as she felt those mental claws invade her mind the same way his tongue did her mouth. Hungrily. Overwhelmingly. She couldn’t even fight back. Those claws scraping gently along her brain and sapping all fight and strength from her. She felt like a kitten facing down an elephant. 

“There you go,” her captor cooed as her limbs went slack. He cradled her to him as a dragon would a hoard of gold. “Isn’t that better? Doesn’t that feel nice?”

It did feel nice. 

It also felt alarming. 

But just as soon as that thought entered her mind it was swept away like it had never even been there in the first place. 

Feyre blinked. 

What had she been thinking about again?

“How good this feels,” the man answered, whispering in her ear and making her shiver. “How much you want me. How you deserve to feel only pleasure.”

He was right wasn’t he? Didn’t she deserve something nice after all those years subsisting off of expired canned beans and so little affection from her surviving sister? No one had ever paid much attention to the youngest Archeron. When even was the last time someone had touched her with any sort of affection or love? Elain? Her father?

“I’ll touch you,” her companion purred earnestly, fingers delving down between her legs. “I’ll never let you go.”

Those words should’ve horrified her. Made her want to run. To take her chances flinging herself over that balcony and into the valley below. And a part of her was horrified. 

But another part of her felt…delirious. Desperate for his touch. For him to fill her and never stop. 

The man groaned in response to that thought. 

Fingers brushed along the seam of her and Feyre couldn’t help but squirm and pant. She felt hot. Fevered. Wild. Something bloomed in her abdomen. A queer mixture of pleasure and panic. 

She wanted to tell him to stop. To let her be. But all that came out was, “Please!” 

“Shhh, sweet thing,” he murmured softly, face pressed into her hair. “It’s been so long since you had this hasn’t it? Let me give you this. Let me see you come apart.”

It didn’t take long for her to give him what he wanted. She couldn’t have stopped it even if she wanted to. Her orgasm barreled through her like a freight train and all she could do was gasp through it and clutch at the man responsible like a lifeline. 

He was enraptured. 

Those violet eyes stared into hers with the kind of intensity that made her want to hide. She’d always thought the saying ‘stared into your soul’ was a silly exaggeration. But not now. Now she was sure that if anyone knew what her soul looked like, it was this man. 

She shuddered. Though, due to pleasure or terror, she couldn’t begin to guess. 

Large hands came up to cup her face sweetly even as she felt the obscene brush of his cock between them, that rigid, leaking, straining piece of himself that prodded her still pulsing and twitching cunt with an intensity that nearly frightened her. 

“Open for me my love.”

And, damn her, her body obeyed. Her flesh split open like ripened fruit and she felt the press of him into that deep, dark part of her. She felt…invaded. Conquered. Like her body was no longer her own. 

And she liked it.

A strange mix of guilt and desire flooded her veins. 

She…she wanted this. And she didn’t understand why. Didn’t she hate him? Wasn’t he the one who plucked her from her home and the only family she had left? Why was she enjoying this? Why did it feel so…good?

He grunted next to her ear, breath hot against her skin, fingers clutched too tight over her hips. There were going to be bruises. Visible reminders of his dominion over her that she’d be forced to see even when he was gone. 

Why did that thought excite her so much?

“Because you’re mine,” he groaned, breath strained and violet eyes fierce and hungry. “And your body knows it. That you’ve always been mine. That you always will be.”

And then he was driving into the heated split of her and all Feyre could do was gasp. There were no more words after that. Nothing but the frantic press and slide of bodies and the shuddering moans and groans that came with it. He kept hitting some place deep inside of her, the thumb on her clitoris unrelenting, and pleasure radiated off of her like a fever. 

Her body seized. 

He swore. 

All coherent thought melted out through her ears. Feyre felt resplendent. Divine. The best she’d felt in years. Possibly ever. 

“Yes!” The man hissed triumphantly, even as she felt something hot flood inside of her. 

Her limbs felt heavy in the aftermath. Eventually, he made to pull back and Feyre couldn’t help the cry of loss that left her lips. She couldn’t think logically anymore, brain addled by too many endorphins and sweet words. She wanted to dig her nails into his flesh and never let go. 

She need not have worried though, because the man only lifted her so he could resettle on the forgotten chair behind him, cradling her once again in his lap, cock still buried deep inside of her where it belonged. 

“Sweet thing,” he murmured tenderly as his fingers stroked her hair. “That’s all you needed. For someone to give you what you deserve. And I will. I’ll give you all of it.” 

Those words should’ve scared her. 

They didn’t at the time. 

But they would. 

-o0o-

The next several days were nothing short of debauchery. 

A strange sort of fever had set in. Like an itch she couldn’t scratch…but someone else could. And that someone else was more than happy to oblige her insatiable need. It seemed like every moment she wasn’t in her captor’s arms, she was thinking about him. His sensual mouth. His large hands. And, of course, his perfect cock. 

Especially his cock. 

It had become her new mission in life to see it stuffed inside of her as often as possible. At one point, he’d tried to get her to get up to eat something but she’d only snarled at him and rocked more forcefully, desperate to keep him inside of her as long as possible. 

Eventually though, he did finally manage to get her out of bed. Mostly by taking advantage of her exhaustion and carrying her to the dining room like a sleepy child. 

“You need to eat Darling,” he had told her gently as he sat down and settled her in his lap. 

Feyre only grumbled in response, mouthing at his neck, drunk on the taste of his skin. 

He shivered. 

“None of that now. You haven’t eaten in days and you won’t for a few more if you keep doing that.”

That seemed like a wonderful plan to her, but before she could properly lick under his ear she felt his presence invade her mind and ramp up the hunger pains she’d barely noticed until now. Suddenly, the spread of cheese and fruit and wine seemed much more appetizing. 

And so it went. 

The days blurred together. 

How long had she been here? A few days? A week? Two weeks? It was so hard to tell in her lust-drunk haze. All she knew was the taste of her captor’s skin and the feel of him between her legs. 

“Eventually you’ll have to start using my name.” He remarked to her once as they lazed about in a rare moment in-between fits of passion. 

Feyre stared at him, confused. 

“Your name?”

His lips quirked wryly. “You keep calling me ‘captor’ in your thoughts. And I can’t help but think my name would sound so much sweeter on your lips.”

“But…what else would I call you?”

“My name perhaps?”

She blinked. “I don’t know your name.”

He froze. 

Then, a look that could only be described as charmingly contrite crossed his perfect features. And then, amazingly, embarrassment. 

“Ah. Yes, I suppose I never got around to introducing myself now did I?”

Feyre wondered when exactly a kidnapper was supposed to introduce themselves during a kidnapping but she held her tongue. Not that it mattered. It wasn’t like he couldn’t hear every thought in her head anyway. 

“For what it’s worth, I am Rhysand. High Lord of the Night Court. Though you, my lovely creature, may call me Rhys.” 

He acted as if those words should’ve held some sort of weight or meaning for her but she just shrugged. 

“I’m Feyre,” she said simply. “But you already knew that didn’t you?”

Rhysand just grinned. 

And then that strange erotic frenzy began anew and there was no more talk. 

-o0o-

Eventually though, Rhysand had to leave and go…wherever high lords went when they weren’t fucking their human captives. 

And, as soon as he was gone, that hold on her mind loosened. 

Not gone. Never gone, but it was like a noose around her neck that suddenly slipped open just enough for her to suck in a deep gasping breath. 

A fog lifted. Clarity returned. And she remembered. 

Though perhaps ‘remembered’ wasn’t the right word. She’d always known she was his captive. He hadn’t taken that fact from her. He’d just made her…docile. Content with her lot. Ravenous for the heat of his skin and the sound of his voice. She’d been made to play his willing, insatiable little plaything. 

And she was livid. 

Fury pulsed through her like a heartbeat. But instead of making her want to smash something it centered her thoughts and narrowed her focus like a bloodhound scenting prey. 

He would be back. Of that she had no doubt. But, with any luck, she wouldn’t be here to greet him when he returned. 

And so, calmly, Feyre got up and set about looking for the exit once more. 

-o0o-

Failure tasted like sea salt and citrus. 

“Oh don’t be too disappointed my love,” Rhys consoled her that same night, licking into her mouth unrepentantly. “There’s always tomorrow.”

[eleanorblythe]

Romantic Homicide - Anton Chigurh x Original Female Character - One Shot

This is supplemental to my first three chapters and explores Anton and her before the events of Romantic Homicide.

This is what happened to Carson on November 28th 1979

Also on Ao3 with authors notes - here

Curiosity Killed The Colonel

November 28th 1979

There had been rumours. Albeit very hushed and tentative - mostly uttered by people who had an obvious death wish.

For everyone else, they were easily dismissed as last ditch pleas of desperate people. For what they said was too outlandish, too unfathomable to be true.

And yet, Carson Wells, couldn’t let it go. He knew he shouldn’t get involved, it was never going to end well, and seemed a lot of risk to take, just to confirm or deny a ridiculous rumour.

He was aware that the two had met. More than once. He was aware of their reputations. Who wasn’t?

But Anton was a psychopath.

And she was dead.

The idea that they were not only involved (in any way other than professionally), but married?!

Carson found that hard to believe.

And yet, here he was. Acting as a lookout as he tailed Anton - on one of his days off, evidently.

It was odd to see a man, such as Anton, do something as mundane as grocery shopping. He went to the bank, he picked up some dry cleaning and-

And bought some flowers.

That was strange. Anton holding a small bouquet of flowers was as out of place as a cactus in a snowstorm. Carson started to feel a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He started to clear the mess of wrappers and papers on his dashboard away, ready to get the hell out of the city, when a dull tapping hit against his window.

“Hello Carson,” a muffled voice came.

Wells slowly looked up and tentatively rolled the window down.

“Hey, Anton,” he hid the quake in his voice.

“What are you doing here?” Anton seemed quite relaxed holding flowers in one hand and his dry-cleaning slung over his shoulder with the other, but Carson could sense underneath his cool and easy going demeanour - he could strike at any moment.

“Short layover before heading off on next assignment, you know how it goes.”

“And why were you watching me?”

There was no getting around it.

“I didn’t want to disturb you,”

“Nobody sent you?”

“Like anyone would be stupid enough to put a hit out on you,” he disguised the fear in his voice with a chuckle.

Anton stared at him. Although he seemed to be staring through Carson. He must have known it was bullshit, but he didn’t seem worried.

“You’re not a very good liar, Carson. For someone in your position, that’s quite a defect.”

“My only defect here, is my own morbid curiosity.” Carson admitted.

Anton tilted his head to the side with a small smile of satisfaction.

“What curiosity?”

“Do you have any ideas about the rumours that have been passed around, about you?”

“I don’t concern myself with gossip, Carson.” He then leaned forward and in a significantly darker tone added. “And neither should you,”

Wells tried to swallow, but his throat was dry.

“It’s no harm Anton, no one’s asked me to seek out this information, I can just drive away, right now.”

Anton suddenly pulled back and opened the car door.

“You should come by the house, it’s been a while since we’ve caught up.”

Anton trying to sound friendly was almost more terrifying than having the man simply hunt you. Carson knew he didn’t have a choice, he reluctantly got out of the car, sneakily trying to grab his pistol shoved down the side of the seat before he heard Anton tut.

“No, Carson, I think not.”

Wells knew.

He was fucked.

He followed Anton, in silence. Rode in the passenger seat, in silence. Walked up the front yard path, in silence. He was forced to carry the grocery bags and balance the dry-cleaning Anton tossed to him as he retrieved his house keys and unlocked the door.

Carson couldn’t help but watch the front door close behind him, Anton twisting the lock in place.

But if this place was to be his tomb, at least it was well decorated. Wells was pleasantly surprised, he spotted a brand new television set and top of the range furniture. He couldn’t imagine Anton picking out swatches and arranging furniture.

Unless there was another.

Now Carson was really sweating bullets. He cursed himself at the deep chasm of shit he got himself involved in. He thought knowing the truth might give him some leverage, should he ever need it, but now he could only scold himself for being such a fool.

A fool with a death wish. Like all the others who crossed paths with Him and Her.

Then Carson had the recurring thought. She was dead. They all knew this, it was big enough news, Carson was half surprised it wasn’t shared in a hitman newsletter(!) She hadn’t been seen in nearly a year. True there was no body, but everyone just assumed the cartel disposed of it in some creative way (God help them) or she slipped away and died somewhere unknown. Buried in an unmarked grave.

Anton directed him to move the grocery bags to the kitchen. Equally as high end - Why did Anton need a fancy coffee machine? The man lived off of crappy diner food and lukewarm coffee from a chipped hostess pot.

“So Carson,” Anton started as he began putting the food away. “What are these salacious rumours you’ve been hearing?”

“Who said anything about it being salacious,”

“I have found, when it comes to me, people are very interested in who or what I care for, of that nature. I never understand why,”

“It’s because you’re unnatural,” Carson helplessly gestured to himself. “Us normal folk always want to solve the unsolvable,”

“What did you hear?” Anton’s eyes pinned him to the spot.

“There was whisperings that you…” Carson couldn’t even believe what he was saying, how childish it all sounded. “Got hitched.”

“Hitched?”

Anton knew what it meant. He just wanted the satisfaction of hearing Carson utter it, out loud.

“Got married, for Christ’s sake, Anton!”

Anton, damn him, was as still as a statue, completely unmoved by what was, to anyone else, a pretty shocking revelation.

“I see.” He said quietly. “Who told you this information?”

“Come on, Anton,”

“Names.”

In that moment, Carson had no trouble throwing those people under the bus. There were only three names, but he watched Anton nod his head at each name, making a mental note for later. Carson didn’t want to think about what came later.

“If it helps, most people don’t believe a word of it,”

“But you do.”

“I don’t.”

“If you didn’t you wouldn’t have come all this way to find out. To sate you ‘morbid curiosity’,”

Carson had no answer to that.

“And who am I married to?” Anton asked.

“Anton, please,” he practically begged.

At that moment a new voice made itself known behind him.

“Yes, I’d like to hear this, what are they calling me these days?” She had obviously been listening for some time and she held back a chortle, seeing Carson jump at the sound of her voice.

“Jesus,” Carson breathed. “You’re supposed to be dead,”

“Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you,” she said bluntly. Anton gave a dry chuckle and came around the kitchen island to clap Carson around the shoulders.

“Let’s sit, shall we?” He looked over at his wife, then nodded towards the flowers resting on the counter. She gave a grateful smile and went about cutting and arranging them in a vase she took out from under the sink.

Carson was led into the living room and prompted to sit down on one of the plush sofas. At least he’d die comfortably.

She soon came into the room with her vase of beautifully arranged flowers (where did she learn how to do that?) and placed them on a table by the window before sitting on a nearby armchair. Carson noted she had triangulated her position with Anton to cover each other if things went south.

Not that Carson would even attempt to fight those two in any sort of encounter.

The silence was palpable, his eyes flitting between the two killers, both of whom were sitting, relaxed with small smiles gracing their faces.

“So how long have you two…?” Carson started awkwardly.

They both tilted their heads curiously. Carson looked and nodded down at her wedding band and impressive engagement ring on her left hand. Neither of them dignified Carson with an answer until he finished his sentence.

“…been married.” Carson finished in a defeated tone.

“Two months.” She answered admiring her own ring. “Are you here to drop off a wedding gift?”

“He came to see if it was true.” Anton answered before Carson could open his mouth.

“Oh. That’s a shame. I was hoping you’d brought a gravy boat or something.”

Anton’s eyebrows furrowed, slightly confused.

“Why would you want that?” He asked, with a quiet curiosity.

“Well, it’s not like we can register.” She then turned her attention to Carson. “Unless your presence here changes things?” She posed it as a question, but Carson knew it was a threat.

Have you already opened your big mouth and exposed us?

Anton smirked and leaned back in his seat, it had been a while since he’d seen her in action…

Lubricating his dry throat, Carson swallowed and went to say something when the chipper sound of a doorbell cut through the silence. He watched as the newlyweds quickly glanced at each other then stared, almost pointedly, back at Wells.

“You expecting company?” Carson asked.

“No.” They said in unison.

She stood up, suddenly, making Carson flinch and went to the front door. Anton kept his eyes locked on Carson.

She looked through the peep hole and suppressed a wry smile. She opened the door to greet her friendly, if overbearing, neighbour.

“Hey, sugar! I hope I’m not interrupting, I saw Anton’s car in the drive.”

“Hello Mrs Miller.”

“Oh, Ruby, please! I have something for the two of you.” As she looked down she could see Mrs Miller holding a plate wrapped in aluminium foil, and couldn’t hold back her genuine smile.

As if he could hear the quiet rustling of foil, Anton suddenly appeared behind her, patiently waiting to see what dish awaited them today.

“Oh Anton! There you are. I just wanted to drop this off as a thank you for your help last week.”

“This is not necessary, Ruby.” She futilely tried to argue.

“No, darlin’ I won’t hear it. Anton, talk some sense into your wife. She needs to eat. She’s far too skinny.” Ruby said reprovingly.

“I’ll do my best.” Anton said, barely containing his mirth. “But she is right, this is not necessary.”

“Are you crazy? After you both saved my life?!” Mrs Miller scoffed.

Mrs Miller was prone to extreme exaggeration.

In reality, Anton had been looking out of the window from the kitchen and saw Mrs Miller precariously carry overflowing bags of groceries up a slippery driveway. He had wondered why she bothered wearing heels in the rain. Soon enough he saw her roll over her ankle and plummet onto the concrete, hitting her head in the process.

Anton watched on with a medical eye. Definitely a concussion. He wouldn’t know if she had dislocated her ankle or just sprained it without closer examination.

He felt the hand of his wife close around his waist and squeeze affectionately before moving him out of the way so she could wash something in the sink.

“What’s Ruby doing laying on the ground?” She asked when she saw what was happening outside of the window.

“She fell.” Anton answered, kissing the top of her head.

“How long has she been there?”

“A couple of minutes. I think she’s unconscious.”

He heard her faint tsk and she went to the freezer to take out some ice cubes to put into an ice bag.

“What are you doing?” He asked as he saw her moving around the kitchen.

“Anton, we can’t leave our neighbour there.”

“We can’t?”

She fixed him with a stare. After a few moments, Anton uttered a quiet “alright.” and grabbed his medical bag from one of the cupboards.

It turned out to be a simple sprain and only a very mild concussion. Anton was almost disappointed the situation didn’t call for much more than ice and a comfortable chair. Anton checked Mrs Miller over and his wife put away the spilled groceries and changed the ice when it melted.

Hardly in the realm of ‘life-saving’.

And now Mrs Ruby Miller was here with more food. She had dropped food around The Chigurhs before. When they first moved in and when they had done relatively small and ‘neighbourly’ things in Mrs Miller’s eye.

She and Anton were too proud to admit that the food was heavenly and had once almost devolved into knife fight over who got the last slice of flan.

Looking at the tented plate Ruby was holding now, Anton hoped there wouldn’t be a repeat performance like the flan. She was stronger now and could probably win - if it was knives.

“Now, I have to admit I’ve never made this before. I did multiple tries before I got it right, but you’ll have to let me know what you think,” Ruby said excitedly pushing the plate towards them. Anton did reach, but his wife was quicker, holding it protectively close to her.

They both thanked Ruby, bordering on enthusiastically, and promised to let her know soon.

Carson, having overheard the entire exchange, was at a loss. At this point he was almost certain he had already been killed and what he was witnessing was just a bizarre version of purgatory (or hell - let’s face it).

She came back into the living room still cradling the plate, like it was a newborn, and placed it on the coffee table. She peeled away the foil to reveal a beautifully formed and decorated cake.

“Oh. Tres leches cake,” she admired before looking up at Anton. “She must think you’re Mexican, darling.”

Anton simply hummed noncommittally and sat back down.

“I hope you’re not expecting a slice.” Anton said. It took Carson a couple of seconds to realise Anton was addressing him.

“What? No. Of course not!”

“Correct answer, Carson. Keep answering like that and you might make it out of this alive.” She said jovially.

“I wasn’t aware that was an option.”

“Oh I’m sorry. Would you prefer that we kill you?” She said sucking some cream off of her thumb.

“What exactly do you want from me?” Carson answered, starting to get frustrated.

“Careful, Colonel,” she said darkly. “You found us. Remember?”

Carson seemed to remember himself and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“You know I wouldn’t…” Carson let his sentence trail off. He wanted to say he would never reveal their secret, that through all his foolishness in coming here today, he knew where he stood. He respected them both too much. He also wanted to live.

Oddly enough, he did feel a small amount of joy seeing the two psychos together.

He was a sentimental idiot.

Deep, deep, deep down.

“And what will you do for us?” She asked, gazing longingly at the cake, her eyes briefly flicked up to meet his. He was lucky he didn’t turn to stone. She obviously had an idea in mind.

“What would you like?” Carson asked, weary of the answer. He watched her smirk mischievously at Anton. Anton nodded once and looked to Carson.

When Anton spoke, Carson wished he was already dead.

“Oscar Brekker.”

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?!” Carson was aware he was about one decibel away from screeching.

“A gifted bounty hunter like you, it shouldn’t take you too long to track him down.” He couldn’t tell if she was being genuine or not.

“Even with the best equipment and intel in the world, it would be near impossible.”

“Nearly. But it’s possible.” Anton added.

After a series of starts Carson finally settled on; “But why?”

Wells saw her eyes drop down to her right side and Anton, following his wife’s gaze, clenched his jaw.

“He’s the last one left.” Anton said quietly.

The puzzle pieces clicked together. Oscar Brekker was the ‘Big Cheese’. He was everywhere and nowhere. The kingpin and the wraith. Powerful and anonymous. Carson should have known. Oscar Brekker only worked with the best, and anyone would concede that she was one of the best in the business. She was often on his payroll - she was on his payroll the day she died.

It also explained the rash of unexplained murders of high ranking gang members over the last year.

“Taking a man like Brekker down is not only impossible, but insane. He controls damn near half of the east coast. It would put our world into chaos.”

“You wouldn’t be taking him down. You’d be using your wonderful people skills and contacts to find him.” She said. “I’m sure we can take care of the rest.”

“There’s plenty of people ready to fill Brekker’s vacancy - I’m not worried about a civil war.” Anton added.

You wouldn’t be. Carson thought bitterly. Nothing mattered to Anton as long as he could have his bloody revenge. Her bloody revenge. For a moment, Carson put aside his panic and incredulity at being given such a task and really looked at them.

Behind her cool, sarcastic and deceptively frightening persona, Carson could see how much this mattered to her. And to Anton. In his own twisted way, Anton was the chivalrous sort.

“I’ll probably be dead before I get anywhere close to him,” Carson mumbled.

“Despite your many flaws, this is something you are actually good at, Carson.”

Backhanded praise from Anton Chigurh, was about as bizarre as it got.

“I can’t promise you anything.” Carson hedged.

She just simply grinned, even Anton managed to lift the corner of his lips, briefly.

……

It was a strange sensation, walking out of the mouth of hell and into a quiet, peaceful suburban neighbourhood. Birdsong, kids shouting and playing in the distance, sensible sedans driving at sensible speeds.

He shouldn’t have done (he’d risked enough today already), but Carson looked back at the house and through the living room window.

Anton was holding two plates and a knife gesturing down at the cake. They seemed to be in deep thought, figuring out how to divide it up. She picked up the cake and licked a long stripe across the top, cream spreading messily around her mouth and chin. Anton put the plates and knife down and advanced towards her. She quickly put the cake down, before Anton gathered her up in his arms. He paused for a moment before leaning down to kiss her senseless, cleaning up as much cream as he could. If Carson listened carefully, he could hear her peals of laughter and halfhearted cries for him to release her. Instead he tossed her over his shoulder and carried her out of the room.

Carson couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. But now he really needed to leave. The adrenaline didn’t hit him until he was out of the suburbs and stopped at a red light.

He had to pull over.

Several months later

She went to the mailbox and was surprised to see a parcel staring back at her.

God, she hoped it wasn’t a bomb.

She carefully brought it inside and put it on the kitchen counter. She spent a long time just looking and listening (just in case).

When she was, fairly certain it wasn’t a bomb she opened the box and read the note neatly placed on top of the tissue paper.

She was elated.

She felt hands wrap around her waist and a warmth against her back. Anton read the note over her shoulder then kissed her temple.

“Good work, Carson.”

The note said:

Happy hunting.

And below that, an address.

And underneath the tissue paper:

A gravy boat.

[friendly-neighborhood-oracle]

A Wedding

Zander had been on something lately, Ophie was sure of it. He was much too jumpy, skittish, unhinged even. Finding random mysteries to go solving. And Ophie was just tired. Weary tired. The images haunting him even in his waking hours. The images of Chicago's future. And it wasn't like he could simply talk to just anyone about it. And Jason had gotten himself vested in the vampires again. Which bristled Ophie because he was supposed to be free of that nonsense. Yet. There he went.

Zander let out an excited squeal from where he was sorting through a freaking dumpster. Searching for what exactly? Ophie didn't have a freaking clue. He didn't want to know either. But Zander would surely show him anyway. Because apparently showing off to Ophie was kind of a thing. A thing that brought Zander some sort of happiness.

The Compass scrambled out of the dumper before dropping lightly to his feet. Which, annoyed Ophie. Because if you were just going to be all smoothe about it, why bother scrambling in the first place? Zander logic. He produced an object, flashing it before Ophie. "Ta da!"

Ophie glared at it. It was a small box-like shape. With a little screen and buttons on it. "What....is that?" He demanded.

"I'm glad you asked!" Zander cried with a whoop. "It's one of those little music contraptions. You know...the ones that mundanes use with their little ear buds." He seemed very excited about it. Turning it over and over in his hand.

Ophie wrapped his arms around himself and sulked. "Can we go home now?"

Snapping out of his trance-like state, Zander flailed. "Oh golly, Ophie! No! We've got so many things to do tonight! Important things!"

Ophie shot him an incredulous. "What important things?"

Zander didn't answer, just herded him towards the court house. "First! We need to go to the court house! I need to get something for Kyle!"

Forever helpless to Zander's whims, Ophie allowed himself to be swept into his frenzy. Though he stumbled a bit on the steps. He took a half turn but only then realized he was alone on the stairs. "Zander?" He frowned. Doing a complete circle where he stood. His brow furrowed. Where did he go now?

"Up here!" Zander called, standing at the door into the court house. "Come on, Ophie! We're going to be late!"

"Late for what?" He snarled a bit, but obediently climbed the steps despite his apparent irritation.

Zander just smiled sweetly at him and ushered him inside. Ophie took an uneasy step and turned. And instantly recognized a lanky figure, leaning against the wall. "Jason?"

@jason-is-devoted

[visceravalentines]

Medium Distance

A Gentleman and a Scoundrel, Chapter 6

Dilf Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader

6.4k. Smut & drama. Some angst (I know I know, you'll be okay, he just cares about you so much baby girl). Bo's shitty attitude makes an appearance and he snaps at Reader. Oral (Fem!receiving), PnV sex. So soft and tender near the end omg. Bittersweet ending (this is NOT the final update!).

The time has come for you to go back to college. Bo does his best to be supportive. Unfortunately, his best in this case is not very good.

For you, a return to campus for the start of a new semester was bittersweet.  It meant new classes, new routines, the combined relief and anxiety of a return to independence.  It would be exciting for a week if you were lucky, and then the mundanity of homework and midterms would set back in for another four months.

For your parents, it was merely the change of the seasons.  With you out of the nest, they had become snowbirds, spending most of the fall and winter months on a beach or a boat.  In fact, they had left for Cancun last week.  They no longer felt the need for tearful goodbyes, knew you were capable of packing yourself up, moving yourself in.  Adults all around.

As far as Bo was concerned, it may as well have been your last day on earth.  He was so anxious you would’ve thought he was the one moving 200 miles away.  For the last few days he had hardly let you out of his sight, staying over every night, sleeping pressed tightly against you in your childhood bed.  Truth be told, it melted your heart, the way he followed you around like a puppy as you packed up your things. 

“I think that’s everything,” you said as you locked the front door of your parents’ house.

“Y’didn’t forget anything at my place, did ya?”

“No, I’m leaving a bunch of stuff there, remember?”  He hmmed in response, hands on his hips.  “Even if I forget something, it’s okay.  I’ll be up here in two weeks and I can get it then.”

“Well what if you need it?”

You slipped your arms around his waist.  “Then I guess you’ll just have to bring it down to me right away.”

That almost got a smile out of him, but only almost.  He appraised the mountain of your belongings packed securely in the bed of his truck.  “Y’sure that’s everything?  Thought you had more shit.”

You smiled up at him.  “This is not my first rodeo.  It’s like, my seventh.  I promise, we’re good to go.”

He sighed.  “If you say so, darlin’.  Just lemme check the hitch real quick and then we can go.”

Rather than letting you drive your car down, he insisted on towing the damn thing behind his truck.  He had already checked the trailer hitch at least once if not twice.  If it gave him some sense of control over the situation, you supposed you could humor him.

You meandered over to the driver’s side and leaned against the door.  When he was absolutely sure the hitch was secure, he came around the side of the truck, frowned when he saw you.

“What d’you think you’re doin’, baby girl?”

“Figured I’d drive down since you’re going to have to drive back,” you said.

He snorted.  “Oh, y’got jokes now?”  You grinned and he swatted at you.  “Get your ass in the passenger’s seat.”

“Yes, sir.”

Bo shot you a glare and you scurried away around the front of the truck.

His hand was on your leg before you’d even left the driveway.  You put your hand on top of his, fingertips caressing the scars on his wrist.  He turned a faint smile in your direction; said nothing.  He’d been uncharacteristically quiet all morning.

For the last couple weeks, he had pestered you with questions, made you recount your weekly schedule to him five times, insisted you provide him with the names and numbers of your roommate and a few other friends.  You talked about visiting each other on the weekends, phone calls in the evenings, meeting somewhere in the middle.  To be sure, it would be an adjustment, but he seemed to be handling the transition as well as could be expected.

However, the silence in the truck this morning was stifling, taking up all the extra space in the cab.  You glanced at him a few times. He did not look back at you, eyes fixed firmly on the road.  Once he pulled onto the freeway, he turned on the radio at a volume that was not conducive to conversation.  You chewed your lip and decided let him be for a while.  It was a long drive; he couldn’t ice you out forever. 

“We could stop for lunch at that cute place by the river,” you said when you couldn’t bear the tension any longer.  “Maybe walk around a little bit?”

“Sounds good, baby girl."

You frowned. He sounded apathetic.  "I thought maybe I could take you around campus after we unload. Show you a couple of my favorite places," you tried.

"Whatever you want."

He seemed detached. “You okay?” you asked.

“’M just fine, darlin’.”  He squeezed your leg.

Evidently this was not the case.  “Do you…want to talk about it?”

“No I do not, thank you.”  The sharpness of his tone surprised you.  He was never short with you.  You watched as he took his hand off your leg to turn the radio up.

You frowned.  “Bo.”

He turned the radio up two more clicks.

You sat up straight, turned it off.  “Bo.”

“Don’t touch my radio while I’m drivin’, girl,” he snapped.  He turned it back on.

You stared at him, taken aback.  “Are you upset with me?” you asked loudly over the wail of Bon Jovi.  He hated Bon Jovi; he wasn’t even listening to the damn radio.

“’M not upset with you.”

“Well then will you please just talk to me?”

He didn’t respond.

You smashed the power button on the radio with more force than intended.  “I don’t want to fight with you.”

“We’re not fightin’.”

You weren’t sure how to respond.  It sure felt like you were fighting.  The two of you had never fought before.  He didn’t turn the radio back on, but he didn’t say anything either.  You folded your hands in your lap and looked out the window.

You knew today was going to be hard, but you’d expected a sort of mutual sadness, not this abrupt hostility.  You couldn’t fathom why he was lashing out at you; as far as you knew, he approved of you going back to school. 

A defensive sort of anger flared in your chest.  Whether he approved or not, it’s what you were doing.  You weren’t about to abandon three years’ worth of hard work just because he didn’t want to have to drive a few hours to see you.

If he wanted to pass the next ninety minutes in animosity, that was fine with you.  You reached over and turned the radio back on, scrolled the volume up even higher for emphasis, crossed your arms over your chest.  He shot you a glance; you ignored him.

Streetlights flew by.  Bo was taking his aggravation out on the gas pedal.  The damn radio was so loud your ears were ringing.  The fight went out of you fast. This was not how you wanted to spend this drive, this last day together for the next two weeks, this time with him that was now a precious commodity.

You looked over at him.  His expression was blank.  It hurt to know he was hurting.  There wasn’t much you could do to fix it, but you badly wanted to try.

“Hey,” you said too softly to be heard above the music.  Your fingers found the dial and turned the radio way down.  “Hey, Bo.”

“Yes, darlin’,” he said, eyes on the road.

“Would you look at me please?”

He obliged, and his mask of stoicism slipped into a guilty expression at the forlorn look on your face.

All the sudden your throat was thick, eyes stinging. “Can you pull over?”

He did, and you stared twin holes in the roof of the cab, refusing to cry.  You felt his gaze on you as you rubbed at your tear ducts, looked down, looked outside, anywhere but at him. He was patient, waiting for you to speak first; it was so unlike him it made you feel worse. 

You cleared your throat and when you spoke, your voice was almost steady.  “Look, I’m sorry that I have to go.”  Despite your best efforts, the tears welled up and you made a frustrated sound as the dashboard blurred.  “I-I’m sorry that—”

“No no no.”  You heard the sound of his seatbelt coming undone, his seat sliding backwards, and then he unfastened your seatbelt and took you by the arm and by the knee and pulled you toward him. “C’mere, baby girl, don’t cry.”

You offered no resistance, straddling his lap and burying your face in his chest.  He wrapped his arms around you, pressed kiss after kiss to your head.  “Y’got nothin’ to apologize for, sweetness, don’t do that.”

“But I am sorry, I—”

“Stop it, darlin’.  I’m the one should be apologizin’ for gettin’ snippy with you.”  His hold on you tightened.  “’M better than that.” 

You nestled into him, hands tucked beneath your chin. His heart pounded against your ear.  With every deep breath your nose filled with the smell of his aftershave, the indelible musk of cigarette smoke ingrained in the fabric of his clothes beneath the scent of laundry detergent.  You’d joked about bringing your laundry with you on the weekends so it would smell like his house.  At least, it had been a joke.  Now it seemed like a desperate and necessary way to keep him with you. 

“Hey.  Baby girl.”  Bo nudged you, curled his finger beneath your chin to direct your gaze to him.  “I’m sorry I took a tone with you.  If I do that again you flip me the bird and tell me I’m makin’ an ass of myself.” 

You almost smiled, sniffled instead.  “I just…I thought you were okay.” 

“I’m fine,” he said.  You furrowed your brow and he grimaced.  “Alright, I been better.” 

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”  You put your hand over his heart.  “We don’t have to talk about it, I just want to know.”  He started to shake his head and you stopped him with delicate fingertips on his jaw.  “Bo.  Please.  It matters to me.” 

He looked pained for a moment before he masked it with a smile not quite free of sadness.  His pretty eyes flitted over the features of your face one at a time and all at once.  “I want you to go.  I’m excited for you, I am.  ‘S just….”  He trailed off, shaking his head. 

“Just what?” you urged. 

Bo sighed, staring intently out the window.  “I feel like I’m losin’ you and I just don’t know how to be alright with that.”  He furrowed his brow, met your gaze with an expression bordering on desperation. “I’m tryin’, baby, I promise I am.  I’ve just never been good at lettin’ go of things.”

You frowned, took hold of his face.  “Bo, we talked about this.” 

“I know we did.” 

“You don’t have to let me go.  You’re not losing me.  You couldn’t.” 

There it was again, that careworn look in his eyes. The one that made you feel like he knew something you didn’t.  That heavy thing he held onto and wouldn’t let you see. 

“Is there something you need to tell me?” you prompted gently, uncertain, not wanting to push him too far. 

He said nothing, just looked at you for a long moment—too long.  You searched his face, trying to transmute a growing anxiety into patience. 

Finally he leaned in to kiss your forehead and said, “No, darlin’.  Just wonderin’ how a grumpy ol’ fuck like me ended up with this angel right here.” 

You offered a furtive smile.  “You give really good head,” you said. That caught him off guard and a laugh burst from his chest.  He had a smooth, booming genuine laugh and in spite of it all, it made you feel better. 

“It’s going to be fine, baby,” you said, fiddling with his shirt.  The fabric was soft in your fingers.  “It’s just medium-distance for just a few months.  We can do that.” 

“We can do that,” he repeated like he was trying to convince himself. 

“We’re gonna have an obscene amount of phone sex,” you reminded him.  “Just a gross amount.” 

“And you’re gonna show me how to use Snatchchat or whatever.” 

“Fuck you’re old.” 

Bo cracked a smile.  “Nah I’m just playin’, I know what it’s called.  C’mere.” 

He pulled you close and kissed you, achingly sweet and hungry, his arms locked around you like he couldn’t bear to have you anywhere but pressed against him.  “If it was up to me I’d lock you up,” he murmured.  “Never let you go.” 

“I know you would.” 

“I mean it, baby.”  He slipped his tongue in your mouth, trying to memorize your taste, squeezing the air from your lungs.  “Alright, darlin',” he said breathlessly when he released your lips at last.  “I think I can drive like this but you gotta stay real still.” 

“I don’t know if I can do that,” you said, grinding slowly against his fly.  He groaned and shut his eyes. “I really don’t think I can.” 

“I s’pose if we crash and die you ain’t leavin’ for college.”  He leaned his head back against the seat.  “Think your daddy will let ‘em bury me next to you?” 

“I doubt it.” 

“Damn.  Ain’t worth it then.”  You felt his dick flex in his jeans and he smacked your ass.  “You best knock it off before I haul you outta here and bend you over the hood.” 

You scoffed.  “Is that supposed to be a threat?” 

He chuckled, something like wonder in the way he looked at you.  “Dammit, baby girl, I—”  The words seemed to crowd one another in his throat and he just shook his head.  “Get back in your seat, g'on.” 

You kissed him one more time before disentangling yourself and struggling back into your seat.  “You know, if you need me to, I could give you—”

He held up a hand to stop you.  “Do not make me an offer I can’t refuse.  I need you to sit there and look pretty, that’s all.  You’re doin’ a great job.” 

Beaming at him, you buckled up and switched the radio back on at a civil volume as he signaled back into traffic.  Bon Jovi was playing again.  Bo scowled. 

“Anythin’ else, please.” 

Hours later, after a stop for lunch and a walk by the river and kisses not stolen but eagerly shared on the bridge, you finally reached your destination. Bo pulled up to the row of brownstone buildings on the edge of campus where your apartment was tucked away.

"This it?" he said, scrutinizing the building with a critical eye.

"This is it. We should be fine to park here for a minute. I want you to come up and see the place first."

"'S this a sketchy neighborhood?" Bo asked apprehensively.

You rolled your eyes. "No, it's fine. Come on."

“Are you sure?  Looks sketchy,” he said, locking the truck. 

“I’ve lived here for two years, I promise it’s fine. The building’s just old.” 

He shook his head ruefully.  “We had all summer.  I shoulda given you a gun and taught you how to use it.” 

“Jesus, Bo, I don’t need a gun.” 

“Everyone needs a gun.” 

“Your redneck is showing.”  He swatted your ass and you squeaked.  “Do you have a gun?  Besides the one above the fireplace?” 

He smiled grimly.  “Never you mind.” 

You tugged on his hand.  “What kind of answer is that?” 

“The only one you’re gettin’, sweetness.  I don't want you comin' home late in the dark," he persisted as you led him up the steps.

"I am absolutely going to be coming home late in the dark sometimes."

"Darlin'," he said sharply.

"Bo, I can take care of myself, I promise. Look, the front door is always locked and we keep the apartment locked too." You flipped through your keyring for the right key.

Bo grabbed the handle and rattled the door. "I could break into this in thirty seconds."

"Well then it's a good thing you don't have to do that because I have a key, you animal."

You unlocked the door and flung it open. Bo caught and held it, gestured for you to go in first. You led him up one flight of stairs to your second-floor apartment halfway down the hall.

"Your roommate's name is Sammy?" Bo confirmed.

"Yeah."

"And we like her fine."

You giggled. "Yes, we like her. We've been roommates for a year. She's great."

He grunted in response. You unlocked the door but didn't open it, turned around to face him instead. "This guard dog thing you have going on is really sweet, okay? It's very sexy. But I need you to trust me a little bit. You don't have to interrogate Sammy or anyone else down here. I'm a pretty good judge of character."

Bo snorted and shook his head. "Sure, darlin'."

"Just please be nice? I know you can be nice."

“I don’t think you know shit.” 

You took half a step towards him, pressing your body against his front.  “Daddy,” you whined, and he snapped to attention.  “If you be nice right now, maybe I’ll be nice to you later,” you said softly. 

"I can be so nice," he said. He almost managed to suppress the patronizing tone. 

“Prove it.”  You turned away from him and opened the door.  “Hey Sammy!” you said brightly as you barged in with Bo on your heels.  “How was your summer?” 

Sammy, a dark-haired girl sprawled on the couch in a cloud of vape smoke that reeked of cannabis, swore and scrambled to sit up straight and shove the vape under a pillow.  “Dude, you didn’t tell me you were bringing your dad!” 

Bo rolled his eyes and scowled as you cackled.  “I didn’t, this is my boyfriend.  Bo, meet Sammy.” 

“Pleasure,” he said dryly. 

“Oo, a foreigner,” Sammy said. 

“He’s from Louisiana.” 

“Where’d you guys meet, Mardi Gras?” 

“We met back home over the summer.  He’s, uh…a friend of my dad’s,” you said at the same time Bo grumbled, “Mardi Gras is in February.” 

“That’s kinky as fuck,” Sammy said, digging the vape back out from under the pillow.  “Bet your mom is thrilled.” 

“My parents do not know and it’s going to stay that way so some discretion would be much appreciated,” you said. 

“Gotchu.”  The vape hissed.  “I’m all about discretion.” 

You grinned.  “I’m going to show him my room and then we’re going to bring my stuff up, so don’t mind us.” 

“I won’t.”  Sammy flopped back on the couch, flashed a peace sign.  “Nice to meet you, Mardi Gras.” 

“Charmed, Samantha,” he said as he followed you down the hall. "She seems fun,” Bo muttered.  “She always high off her ass?” 

“Since when do you have a problem with recreational drug use?" you shot back. 

"I don't, I just–"

"Maybe Sammy will give you a hit off her vape and that'll chill you out."  You pushed open the door to your bedroom.  “Here we are.” 

The air was stale from months of stagnation, but it was comforting to be back in your own space.  You watched Bo meander around the room, looking at the photos of you and your friends stuck on the wall, the knickknacks on your desk, your closet overstuffed with clothes despite the fact you had packed a full summer’s wardrobe back home with you. 

“’S cute,” he said.  “Nice and cozy. Feels like you.” 

You wrenched the ancient window open to air the space out.  “I really like it here.  It’s too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter, but it’s cheap and has good parking.” 

Bo came over beside you.  “This window lock?” 

“Yes, it locks,” you sighed. 

He put his hand on the small of your back.  “Just makin’ sure my baby girl’s gonna be safe without me, that’s all.” 

You leaned against the windowsill and slid your arms around his waist.  His brow was lined with concern and you couldn’t help but be a little touched.  “That’s very sweet of you.” 

“Ain’t nothin’ sweet about it,” he said.  “I’d have to beat the shit outta anyone who laid a finger on you and I’m real attached to my clean criminal record.” 

“You're a selfish bastard.” 

“I know it, darlin’.”  He kissed your lips but didn’t linger, tilting your chin delicately to the side so he could work his way down your neck. 

“Once we bring some things in I can put clean sheets on the bed,” you said. 

“Don’t need sheets,” Bo murmured.  “Hell, don’t need a bed.” 

You laughed and ran your fingers through his hair. “We do need to unload though so you can move the truck before it gets towed.” 

He froze.  “Before it what?” 

“It’s only thirty-minute parking out front.” 

“Well what the fuck are we waitin’ for?”  He was out of your room so fast he all but left a cloud of dust in his wake. 

The two of you made short work of carting your belongings inside and backing your car off the trailer. Unpacking could wait.  Instead, you took Bo around campus and the surrounding neighborhood, pointing out your classroom buildings, the library, the patch of trees on the hill.  If he couldn’t be there, if he couldn’t be a part of your everyday, you at least wanted to show him what it was like.  

The tour ended at your favorite dive restaurant for dinner. By the time you walked out, the sun had begun its descent behind the trees. 

Bo’s hand slipped out of yours and he paced a few steps away.  He gazed down the road at the streetlights as they lit up all at once.  “Well darlin’…think I better get goin’.” 

You frowned, slowed to a stop, confused and caught off guard.  “I thought you were staying over.” 

“Yeah…thinkin’ maybe I should get home though.”  He was not looking at you, looking instead at the part of your world unfamiliar to him, mouth set in a line, hands shoved in his pockets. 

I feel like I’m losin’ you and I just don’t know how to be alright with that.  Who was losing who? 

Your heart sank.  “You said you’d stay.” 

He turned to you, met your sad eyes, and the furrow of his brow cracked his aloof expression.  A quiet, resigned sigh slipped from his nose and he conjured up the ghost of a smile.  “Dunno, y’think that bed of yours is big enough for two?”  His hands found your hips and pulled you toward him.  “I could sleep on the couch I guess.” 

You shook your head.  “Don’t be an ass.  You’re staying the weekend.  You said you would.” 

“Did I?”  He cocked an eyebrow. 

“Yes!”  You thumped your hand on his chest. 

Bo chuckled, wrapped you in his arms.  “I know I did. Just wanted to be sure you ain’t changed your mind. I know you got a lot to get done before classes start.” 

“No.”  You squeezed him tightly.  “Stay with me.” 

“You sure?” 

“Bo!” 

“Alright, alright, y’got me.” 

Tucked under his arm, you wandered home, clinging to him for fear he might disappear into the twilight like cigarette smoke if given half the chance. 

Back at your apartment, he helped you make your bed and put away a few essentials and afterwards you curled up together in front of some early 2000s horror movie.  Bo changed into sweatpants; you also changed into a pair of Bo's sweatpants. He spooned you on the couch, your back flush to his chest and his fingers moving lightly down the skin of your arms, over the curve of your thighs. His lips found the nape of your neck again and again. 

"Can I help you?" you laughed as his teeth grazed your skin. 

"Mm-mm," he said. "You just keep watchin' the movie."

"What about you?"

"Don't worry 'bout me, I'm entertainin' myself." 

“We don’t have to watch this if you don’t want to,” you said. 

“I’m perfectly happy, darlin’.”  His hand snuck beneath your shirt, cupped your breast, his thumb teasing your nipple. 

You arched your back and pressed your ass against his groin. "You sure, Daddy? You don't wanna go fool around a little?" You craned your neck to steal a lopsided kiss.

"I just want you to relax, baby girl.  You been so busy." His fingers trailed back and forth over the exposed flesh of your stomach. After a minute, he shot you a sidelong glance. "Y'mind if I have a snack?"

"We just ate," you laughed as he sat up and scooted down the couch.

"I know, I just got a particular craving is all."

"Go for it, I don't know what we have in the pantry though."

"That's alright, me neither," Bo said as he tucked his fingers into the waistband of your sweatpants and slid them and your panties all the way down your thighs in one fluid motion.

You jerked in surprise. "Baby!"

He shushed you, looping his arms under your legs and nestling in so close you felt the heat of his words on your skin. "Watch the movie, darlin'."

Grinning, you repositioned yourself against the pillow behind your head. "What if Sammy comes back?"

"Door's locked. I set the deadbolt."

You laughed. "You son of a bitch."

His eyes gleamed over the crest of your hips. "You know I get what I want, baby girl."

Biting your lip, you turned your attention back to the TV. A vocal sigh slipped from your throat at the first solicitous pass of his tongue. He lapped at your sex, teasing the breach of your slit.

You snuck a glance at him and smiled. His eyes were closed, his thumbs stroking your hips, his brow furrowed slightly as he devoured you with absolute devotion.  He looked up at you through his lashes and slowly raised one eyebrow. 

“You’re awfully distracting,” you said. 

“Speak for yourself,” he murmured.  He swirled his tongue around your clit and sucked pointedly and you threw your head back on the pillow with a groan. 

He was relentless.  You tangled your fingers in the hair at the base of his skull, squeezed it in your fist.  Your hips lurched involuntarily against his face time and again and it only made him shift his weight to pin your legs down so he could redouble his efforts. 

“Please,” you gasped, legs trembling.  “It's so much…it’s too much.” 

Bo trailed kisses down the inside of your thigh, letting you catch your breath.  “C’mon, baby girl, Daddy ain’t done yet.”  He licked a matching path up your other thigh.  You whined and squirmed and he lifted his head, fixed his smoldering stare on you. "You want me to stop?"

"Uh-uh." You pulled his head back to you and he chuckled.

“You’re doin’ so well, sweetness.  Just a little more.” 

He caressed you with his tongue, slick and silky, slipped two fingers into you and adored you from the inside out. You were floating, bliss incarnate, twisting your hand in his hair and grinding on his tongue until at last something primal and powerful snapped deep in your core and you arched your back and melted on his lips, moaning, hot and sticky and sweet. 

"That's my girl." He nipped the flesh of your thigh, made you jerk and whimper. "Goddamn, I love makin' a mess of you."

"Come here," you sighed, reaching for him. He sat up and took your hand and kissed first your fingers, then your wrist, leaning in to let you hang your arms around his neck and meet his lips. The combined taste of his mouth and your lingering pleasure was delectable, smooth and sharp. 

You gazed up at him, the lines worn into his brow and the corners of his eyes, those lips, the scar on his chin. Something was tangled in your heartstrings, tugging at your diaphragm, words sitting precarious in your mouth. 

"Bo…."

The knob of the front door rattled furiously and someone pounded at the door only seconds later. "What the hell?" Sammy yelled, muffled. "Are you guys fucking or something?"

Bo was off you and out of the room in mere seconds. Hastily you hiked your pants back up and tripped over yourself on the way to the door. The deadbolt was crusted in fifty years' worth of paint and you had to really throw your weight behind it to get it open. 

"Hey Sammy, so sorry," you panted. "Bo's just, like…super paranoid."

"I would be too if I was whipping my dick out in the common living area," Sammy said without a hint of malice. 

You bit back a laugh and felt your face heat up. "That is…not what was happening."

"Get it girl, why do you think I walked to Taco Bell instead of DoorDashing like a sensible person? I figured you had designs on that old man. I'm glad you locked the door. I don't need to know you like that." She took a hit off her vape. "Good for you, babe. 'Bout time you found yourself a man worth a damn. Bradley sucked ass."

"Bradley did suck ass, you're right."

"Baby girl, you get abducted?" Bo called from your room. 

"No," you called back. 

Sammy winked at you. "You better get back to it, I bet he gets real bossy when he's horny."

"How'd you know?" You rolled your eyes and retreated down the hall. 

"I'll be out here minding my own business with headphones on," she grinned. 

You ducked into your room and shut the door behind you. The string of lights hanging around the perimeter of the ceiling shone gentle and golden and Bo was tucked in your bed, reclining bare chested on your pillows. Goddamn gorgeous. You wanted to wrap yourself around him, map every inch of him with your mouth and hands. 

"I missed you," he said with a crooked smile. He beckoned you with two fingers. “C'mere."

You shed your clothes as you crossed the room and crawled into bed. Straddling him, you nudged his half-hard cock with your pubic bone, pressing him between your skin and the palm of your hand. 

"Pretty thing," he said. "Wanna take a ride?"

"Yes sir." His shaft was velvety soft between your lips, slippery with a mixture of your arousal, the gentle friction against your clit verging on overstimulation. 

Bo made a contented sound. "Think I'd like to sit back and watch you fuck me, darlin', how d'you feel about that?"

With a hitch of your hips you took half his length, eliciting a startled, satisfied grunt from his pretty mouth. Another thrust and you groaned in tandem as he found his place inside you. 

"Feels good," you murmured. "I feel good about that."

Ecstasy rolled through you with every rock of your pelvis. Bo pinned his lip between his teeth, glazed-over gaze fixed on the joining of your bodies. You splayed your hands on his stomach and reveled in each clench of his abdomen as you worked him in and out. 

Arching your spine, flexing around him, you felt a flash of satisfaction when he threw his head back and inhaled sharply, face flushed. His fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs when you sighed his name. 

“Darlin’,” he mumbled, “angel, beautiful, fuck.”  With gentle hands on your waist he stabilized you so he could rut up into you, meeting each sway of your body with a rise of his own.  “I adore you, baby girl, you know that?” 

Your nails pressed into his skin.  You met his eyes, pupils blown and glassy.  “I know that.” 

“Nah, you got no idea,” he said breathlessly, with a small shake of his head.   

Your hands found his wrists, fingers wrapping loosely around them.  “Then tell me.” 

Bo licked his lips desperately.  “Best thing I ever had.  Y’hear me?  Best thing that—shit—that ever happened to me.”  The snap of his hips grew frenetic, his grip on you tightening.  “I’d do anything for you, anything you want.”

His scars were smooth and uneven under the delicate caress of your thumbs.  Your head lolled to the side and you graced him with a sultry smile.  “Come for me?” 

He moaned.  “Hell, baby girl—”  

You moved like the tide, steady, relentless.  “C’mon, Bo, come for me.” 

A grunt escaped his throat in pieces as he bucked beneath you, wringing your name out on his lips, clawing down your sides.  His climax resolved into a low whine and he stared up at you with that heartrending astonishment you always hoped for, like he couldn’t believe a sweet thing like you could make him feel like that. 

Goosebumps flared across his skin as you ran your hands up his arms to meet in the middle of his chest, bending over him to press a kiss between his eyes.  The words came quickly, unbidden, all your thinking over and done with.  “I love you, you know?” 

You felt the air catch in his lungs.  “I…I know.”  He was holding onto you like a lifeline, something bewildered and exultant blooming in his expression.  “…I love you too, darlin’.” 

You smiled.  The phrase was foreign to him; you could hear it in the way his tongue touched each syllable like he was afraid he might break it.  “Say it again,” you whispered. 

His hand came to your cheek and he grazed your lips.  “I love you,” he said carefully, like maybe you might tell him he was doing it wrong.   

You kissed the pad of his thumb.  “One more time?” 

Those blue eyes seized you, held you, intense and ardent, and quietly he said, “I’m in love with you, baby girl.  ‘Course I am.  You’re everything to me.” 

He pulled your mouth to his and kissed you with an unexpected tenderness.  It made you shake inside.  It wiped everything from your mind but thoughts of him, thoughts of his rare laughter and that damn smirk, the thought that you wanted to commit to memory the way he tasted so you could never, ever forget it. 

He rolled onto his side, taking you with him, strong arms wrapped tightly around you.  You could feel a peculiar tension in his body even in the wake of his orgasm and you tried to soothe him with caresses on his chest and collarbones.  He pressed his lips to your brow and held you to him for a long time, breathing slowly, like he thought maybe if he let you go you might slip away. 

You had to wonder, curled up with his heart pounding under your hands, if he had ever given it to anyone else.  You were almost certain the answer was no, and this gave you a secret sort of satisfaction.  You knew he had never been married, and he’d been a bachelor as long as he’d known your father. 

Now that you thought about it, was it odd that he’d never settled down?  That a charming, charismatic man with a James Dean jawline and a steady job hadn’t ever found himself a long-term partner? 

And were you certain that was even the case?  He didn’t talk about his past, about his younger years, about Louisiana.  There was trauma there, a time when the scars on his wrists were fresh, a time when his brothers had been his whole world.  Maybe there had been a time when he hadn’t been alone. 

It occurred to you suddenly that you knew almost nothing about his life before he moved to your town.  That was odd, wasn’t it?  Or was he just protecting himself, the part of himself that was painful and private?  And if so, did you have any right to go poking at it? 

Bo hmmed softly.  “Why so quiet, darlin’?  Thinkin’ some big thoughts?” 

You tilted your head back and met his gaze.  The way he looked at you—with hunger, with reverence—no one had ever looked at you the way he did.  Like he wanted to dismantle you piece by piece and then lovingly put you back together just so he could become intimately familiar with every last part of you.  Most people lived their whole lives without someone looking at them like that. 

What did it matter that he was a mystery?  He was yours, and you were his. 

You smiled and kissed his chin.  “Just thinking about you.” 

A faint smirk settled on his lips.  “Well now, ain’tcha always?” 

Your fingers wandered through his hair, brushing it back off his brow.  “Yes,” you answered truthfully. 

The corners of his eyes crinkled.  “Good.”

He left Sunday evening, hours after the sun had set and the roads were dark.

You knew he needed to get home, had a long drive ahead of him, but every attempt you made at a goodbye was casually but firmly shut down.  Bo would not be leaving until he decided to leave. 

You sensed he was struggling; you could see it in fits and starts of alternating detachment and clinginess.  But he shrugged you off if you tried to pursue it, and so you stopped pressing him.  Everything would be fine once he adjusted to the change, once he realized you weren’t going to forget about him just because you didn’t see him every day. 

Finally, he let you walk him down to his truck.  He took your face in his hands and kissed you deeply, possessive, almost aggressive.  It left you flushed and gasping.  "I'll see you in a couple weeks, baby girl," he said, drawing his thumb across your cheekbone. 

“Just a couple weeks.  Text me when you get home?" you asked pleadingly. 

"Sure thing, but you best be sleepin'."

"I will."

"Good girl."

You embraced him tightly. "I'll miss you."

"I know,” he said.  “Miss you already."

You tugged him close for one last kiss. "I love you."

His eyes moved over your face like he was searching for something. You wished you knew what it was he was looking for.  You believed—you hoped—when he was ready, he would tell you. 

"Love you too."

With one final peck on your forehead, he pulled away and climbed into the truck, and then he was gone. 

Taglist at the bottom bc this is a monster post already: @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better, @slutforguts, @brandnewhuman, @fluffy-little-demon, @cypressnmarigolds, @slasherlouvre , @g0thl3zz, @frankiethedarkangel, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @likeacidrainn, @thatoneidiotlol, @jdbxws, @confused-gender, @xhorror-nerdx, @uwunuzzleowo, @spicysimpura, @gremlinfuck, @the-pinstriped-hood, @vixorell, @hope4rain15, @hamburgerslippers. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, let me know!

[anotherblblog]

Dead Friend Forever episode 12 blurb/series retrospective

wellllllllllllllllllllll that was the goriest, slasheriest, kill 'em-ness I've seen in Thai or any bl series

the episode was kinda short and the pacing made it seem rushed but not I'm sure if I really felt rushed or if it was just a breakneck pace

I do like that a lot of the theories and wishes weren't achieved/realized and the series still feels good. Like I know I wanted White and TanNew to live and at times Jin and Phee too but all of them ending up in this ceaseless purgatory slaughterhouse is kinda fitting. Non couldn't escape his fate due to the actions of others and the rest of the group couldn't escape the fallout aka TanNew's life implosion and his pursuit of vengeance for his brother and family

Cuz like yeah White, it truly seems, was just at the wrong place and wrong time. The theories and sentiment of White being part of some Perth and TanNew third killer ace in hole was nice and could have worked but it didn't happen and I don't feel the show really lacked for it

Like we saw one of the masked killers with crutches and the killer always had a maybe magic, maybe mundane vibe the show liked to play with. So perhaps Non really did survive somehow or maybe he just really had a rather unmarkable end after his harrowing captivity and enslavement

anywho standouts for the episode and series -

TanNew going full slasher - lovely, wonderful, great job Mio. You sold and I bought. And as an elder sibling, bitch I don't necessarily condone your behavior but I motherfucking understand you and also why you were Phee were destined to have a falling out. Phee did geniunely love and care for Non but the information that Phee had because Non specifically and intentionally lied to Phee meant that Phee could ultimately move on with Jin but TanNew was frozen in that grief and by Phee interrupting TanNew's attempt, Phee sealed his own fated too

Jin's hallucation montage - kinda campy in a good way and also like really modern. Like this type of voyuerism enabled by modern technology is really scary. Like gays have been fucking and sucking in bathrooms since before bathrooms were existed and will continue to (and last night at this bar I was at - there were several gays keeping me from peeing because they were fucking in the bathroom stall). So I compare how the leaked sex tape was used in this series with Only Friends and I do feel DFF really did that subplot and theme so much better

The first third of ep 12 aka the slaughter house - like it's a series so total suspension of disbelief to let the series tell me that Top can get shot in the stomach (or near enough) after a series of beatings and days of high stress and still have the gas in the tank for a final fight. But the tension and motivations were really high and going from the joker class clown who kinda started a lot of the Non ends up a slave plot by Top breaking Por's camera and Fluke mister always trying to keep my hands clean but always being near and having the truth but not sharing taking themselves out together was obvious symbolism to me and still really good. Then going from that to Tee being made to inadvertently kill his lover and the person who inspired him to better himself while White's last images are his boyfriend who he like 3 minutes ago learned was a really massive piece of shit and a victim and victimizer and (I don't know about Thai laws and accidental death or manslaughter and all that) but learning your bf is connected and inarguably one of the biggest participants in this Non situation surely must have not felt good, then he stabs you while you think it's because you're not pretty. Madness and chaos and really cool scene.

Phee, Phee, Phee, our series lead - overall I think Ta did a fantastic job. Like so many times, he would enter a scene and I would think "this dude has stage presence" - highlight of him was the revealation he was Non's boyfriend as he saves Non from his attempt. That episode and the one prior with this abscene were fine and good but when he came back onscreen, it was like, yeah, you've got IT. Now the finale arc with him is frustrating because of the discourse and the piety of people and shipping. Yes Non was groomed. Por is the closest person in series to call out the massive inappropriateness of Keng and Non. But it is critical to point out, that Phee did not know about that and saw Non being hugged and comforted by Keng, so he made the deduction that Non was hot for teacher. And then the disappearance and police stuff happened and Phee was motivated to find the truth. He was fueled by his own guilt at his last words to Non but even as he was trying to find Non, as he told his dad, he wasn't sure how he felt about forgiving Non because Non told Phee to his face there was nothing wrong and then Phee watches Non and Keng fucking. So yeah, it makes sense he could could join in on TanNew's plan but he didn't have the same stakes that TanNew did.

The mean girl messy clique worked because you saw that it was largely a friend of convenience for them and you had two different type of alpha girls (Por and Tee) and then a lacky Top and two people who seemed to be voting for the leopard eating face party because they didn't want their own faces ate

The heat was decently high and the NC scenes were really good, that ass slap is iconic

Lows

we didn't get enough with Jin. He was arguably the 2nd or 3rd most "important" character to this maybe and we just didn't get enough of him or his character for him to be fully realized for me

Overall BoC's second series was really good. I think they avoided the sophomore slump.

Maybe the dead friend forever is the friends we made along the way

[polyhexian]

i see youve been reblogging a lot of angel hare stuff lately! what are your general thoughts on the series?

oh have I lol? i have a queue so that means i binged the angel hare tag a couple weeks ago and shoved a bunch in there.

i love it! its so unique and creative and I genuinely think its refreshing to see religion used in this kind of narrative as a positive force rather than a sort of generic Evil. its so boring when stuff just uses like. demons or christian aesthetic without anything specific in it. stuff that will talk deep about demonology and angels but pretends jesus isnt relevant because its Secular Religious Aesthetic. its boring! its uninspired! its SAFE. angel hare is unique in that not only is it very specific but the supernatural element in the story IS the force of good and the force of evil is the mundane human element, the every day horror of abuse.

and also how fucking dope is the idea of an angel, a genuine angel of fucking god, talking a little kid whos probably like, three, through disassembling and reassembling a gun and shooting his abusive father dead with it. holy fucking shit. holy shit. what. that fucking rules. the nuance of the rules of god here not being the generic strict rules that murder is bad, forgiveness is good, blablabla. i love the bit where we see the video version of the lying episode has gabby and the viewer forgive francis but the recorded version tell him no, you dont have to forgive someone who hurts you. remember that the sun can be warm, but never forget the times that it burns you. your dad might sometimes seem kind but dont ever forget what he does to you. you do. not. have. to. forgive. and even as far as you SHOULDN'T forgive. and that is the opinion of the positive force angel of god.

its great. its creative and unique and theres nothing quite like it. and the presentation! i mean the text parts can be a little much at times but the animation- the first episode. holy shit. when she flew away in the taped version i was like hmmm where are we going with this. she goes into her house and im still like hmm. then she picks up the chair and says "this will be our strength" and puts it under the door and i was fucking floored dude. i straight up had to pause because of the lightning shot of ice that went up my spine. the genuine fucking real world horror of understanding. thats how you do a fucking horror reveal dude, she never says it out loud but you KNOW. just from that one moment you know EVERYTHING you need to. it all unfolds right then in a fucking instant. holy shit. thats fucking storytelling dude. thats incredible.

[seriouslysam8]

SAM!! Where is the sneak peek!!!

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 I am DYING laughing right now.

I 100% forgot. Legit. I was trying to finish the next chapter of Bête Noire and just didn’t think about it.

This is unedited. Just FYI.

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Dueling Lessons

​“Andy decorated it all,” Sirius commented, shrugging off his leather jacket and slinging it across his arm. “You keeping the hoodie on or do you want me to hang it up?”

​Harry turned to look at Sirius. “Nah, I’ll keep it on,” he replied as he walked deeper into the house, wanting to see more of it.

​He noted the books on Transfiguration and Defense on the bookcase in the parlor. There was a framed picture of Sirius, Andromeda, and Alphard from over two decades ago being used as a bookend. Another picture with James on Sirius’ back, the two grinning broadly in what looked like the back garden of Andromeda and Ted’s cottage. Harry ran his finger along a globe on the end table and caused it to spin, but it wasn’t a normal globe. Instead of countries, it was filled with constellations. On the coffee table sat an empty and dirty coffee cup. The entire house smelled like Sirius’ woodsy and wet dog smell, like a home with Sirius should smell.

​“You like it?” Sirius asked.

​Harry turned around to see him standing in the doorway of the parlor, leaning against the jam with his arms crossed over his chest. The sleeves to his Henley shirt were pushed up, revealing the ink that wrapped around his forearms.

​“It’s really nice, Sirius,” Harry commented.

​Sirius shot him a small smile. “Want to see your room?”

​Harry’s brow furrowed. “My room?”

​“It’s our house, Harry,” Sirius replied. “I know you may not spend much time here because we won’t stay here the summer or even during the holidays, but… well, I don’t know. Any house that I own will always have a room for you even if you don’t use it often.”

​Harry broke out into a grin, a warmth flooding his chest. “Really?”

​Sirius rolled his eyes. “Really. I don’t care if you’re fucking fifty with grown kids of your own. I will always have a room with your name on it, okay? Even if you use it once in a blue moon, you will have a room wherever I am.”

​Harry closed the space between them as he practically dove into Sirius’ arms. A hand pressed against the back of his messy head as Harry rested his chin on Sirius’ shoulder.

​“I’ll always have a room in my house for you too, Sirius,” Harry whispered, his lips curving. “So when you’re old and use a cane and need help doing mundane things, there’s already a room ready for you.”

​Sirius laughed, tightening his grip around Harry. “You’re a little shit, you know that, don’t you?” he said in a teasing yet affectionate tone.

​Harry swallowed at the lump in his throat, his eyes screwing shut. So many feelings swirled around inside of him, threatening to break free. He oddly felt like crying at the warm way Sirius talked to him. Sirius was often harsh with others, his tone clipped with a permanent frown etched deep into the crevices in his face.

​But not with Harry. Never with Harry.

​No, Sirius was like an entirely different person when he was with Harry. Sirius was far more patient, kind, and affectionate with Harry than he was with anyone else. He didn’t bicker with Harry or shout at him. Nor did Sirius ever seem annoyed with him. Sirius laughed at his jokes and actually listened to him when he talked.

​Harry was very aware of that Sirius was everything he had ever hoped and wished for as a small child locked away in the cupboard under the stairs. Sirius was the family he had craved his entire life.

​“I love you, Sirius,” Harry whispered, tightening his arms around his godfather.

​It was something Harry had said before to Sirius, very sparingly. But Sirius had always initiated those three small words. Harry was certain this was the first time he had ever said them first. He meant them, with every fiber of his being.

​Sirius lips pressed against Harry’s hair. “I love you too, son,” he said in a thick voice before he cleared his throat. “Now, let’s go see that room of yours.”

[mentallyrecovering]

Choose Your Own Adventure

this intro is a LONG intro with details about the characters life, motives, and background. Explains why they are on a road trip and where they are going. So it is long but I wanted to write it as if its a book. if you don't like ti please give me feedback!

long story intro beyond the keep reading

Taylor, Sam, Hazel, And Rowan were laying on the beach basking in the sun. It was a beautiful day, the day after graduation, the day that they were free from the shackles of high school. It had been tough their senior year, Taylor had broken up with their partner  whom they dated since the first day of freshman year. They had been a couple up until they graduated when their partner had a change of mind and wanted to be “free” for college. 

Sam, Hazel, and Rowan were right by Taylors side. They had spent hours cheering Taylor up, “They weren’t the one”, “They didn’t really love you”, “it was for the best”. Nothing seemed to cheer Taylor up.

Hazel wasn’t much better than Taylor. They had lost their mom in a car accident the first week of their senior year. It had been tough. Hazel kept it bottled up in order to keep the friend group cheerful and bright. Of course everyone took the time to cheer them up, offering up hugs and supplying the group with all you can eat chocolate. Chocolate solves any problem you have in life.

Rowan and Sam on the other hand had no major life events happen beside graduation. They had a pretty normal, if not mundane, senior year. Of course senior year is tough for anyone. Who has motivation to keep doing school work knowing you will be free in just a few short months. No one in the group had a particular plan in place as far as college. Their parents wanted to push them into college. Taylor’s parents wanted them to go to UCLA. Sams parents wanted them to go to NYU. Rowan’s parents wanted them to go to UT.

Hazel, on the other hand, was odd in the college conversation. Having lost their mom in a car accident had subdued their desire to go to college. Afterall, why would they go to college when every single milestone brought back memories of the past. The others in the group trying to raise their spirits were somewhat helpful but not really. They would brighten up around the group but as soon as they were alone they would cry. Losing your mother was going to be a lifelong battle for Hazel.

The group sat on the beach, salty air blowing into their face. Seagulls squawked in the air waiting for the right time to snag some food from an unsuspecting beach goers hand. They were silent, just enjoying the moment, absorbing the wonderful sun under their freshly graduated selves. 

Suddenly Taylor blurted out, “how about a road trip?’ the three looked at her confused but interested. Taylor went on saying “Look I just broke up with the person of my dreams, Hazel lost the most important member of her family, and you two…” Taylor paused for a second resting their hand on their cheek then continued, “you two need to go on an adventure as well. You both need a reward for graduating and then me and Hazel just need some time to recover.” Hazel was silent, they weren’t sure how a road trip would cheer them up, but hey, give it a shot. Nothing could be any worse than going home to a house with no mom in it. Sam and Rowan agreed instantly! A road trip would be amazing.

Taylor’s mom let them borrow the car for a trip. The group spent hours trying to find out where to go. After awhile they made a plan. They were going to go from their coastal town Lawrence to the forested state park in Lebanon. They packed up and set out for their adventure.

They were a couple dozen miles into the trip when they needed to stop for gas and have  a bathroom break. While they were there Taylor looked at their  phone and saw some fun events to go to. The event choices were:

A dog agility competition a few miles away north in a town called pawsville

A natural history museum a few miles to the east in a town called Earthville, which would cause them to back track a bit.

They could keep driving for a bit and stop at this nice restaurant that was being advertised called Mama Suedes BBQ in Brisketville which was directly to the west in the direction they were headed.

Link to CYOA #1 https://www.tumblr.com/mentallyrecovering/716212039957315584/i-have-to-add-that-there-will-be-reading-in-the?source=share

[letsgoplayhighfive]

Supernova - A Gandrew One-Shot

Garrett loves his new apartment for a multitude of reasons.

Most of those reasons, he knows, naturally come down to Andrew. As most things do.

(A silly little Gandrew story, written in three long, late sessions. Cross-posted on Ao3, which you can find here. A huge thank you to @lmnsdtexe, who inspired, proof-read, edited, and kept me on track to actually finish this fic. I genuinely couldn't have done it without them.)

Garrett loves his new apartment for a multitude of reasons.

Really, he does- the comments he’d off-handedly thrown towards the camera about it being a mistake or a bad idea were just bluffs to get a few laughs. In reality, he thinks taking the place for his own was probably the best thing he’d managed to do in years. No joke.

It’s old, the floors creak, the doors are thin and the walls even thinner, and of course it’s also extravagantly haunted, but all of those things just add the exact kind of character Garrett loves. He can’t imagine himself anywhere else in Spokane anymore. His uncle's house is a great place to crash- don’t get him wrong -but the feeling in this charming little building is unlike anything he’s ever experienced before, and likely something he won’t be able to recreate anywhere else.

He’s also grateful to have the memories there, as few of them as there are, so cross-linked with Andrew. He doubts he’ll ever forget that road trip, all 20 hours of it, and while they’d both ended up delirious and exhausted deep in their bones, he looks back on it with a soft and warm fondness that is reserved for Andrew and Andrew alone. He elevates anything that Garrett is doing, even if it’s something as mundane as getting Starbucks, and everything always feels brighter when the two of them are together. So, naturally, he brings Andrew along to most places, and Andrew never seems to mind. Even if it is his terminally haunted home. Even if that home does scare the shit out of both of them on a regular basis. Things never feel quite as scary when Andrew is there, anyway, and Garrett only hopes he feels the same way about him. 

Garrett is there to visit his niece for her birthday, still in awe at how fast time is passing and how old everyone is getting. Of course he’d sprung an invite on Andrew at the last minute and of course Andrew had also agreed at the last minute, so now they’re in his new living room, trying to ignore the strange little creaks and ticks coming from different angles around them.

The place has started to fill in with various Garrett-isms. The Xena poster from his 90’s room is up by the front door, a sword is mounted behind the TV, and Peter B. Parker has somehow found his way from Garrett’s truck up to the apartment windowsill. There’s a new spice rack in the kitchen, and he's picked out a set of vintage-looking barstools with Andrew from Wayfair that sit pulled up to the ledge separating the rooms. It’s slowly becoming a home around him, his home, and when Garrett thinks back to the first time they’d stepped inside together he can almost feel emotion tightening up his chest and clogging his throat. 

Because yes, the place is his- It’s his name on the paperwork, now, after all -but it’s also so very much Andrew’s, too. Enough so that it holds the same (if not more) associative intensity as the Beehive. They’ve picked out almost every piece of furniture in it together, and Andrew is still regularly sending Garrett links to various pieces he thinks will be a good match. It’s domestic. It’s perfect. Garrett savours every second of it.

There’s a bottle of wine on the coffee table in front of him- which is less of a table and more of an antique-looking chest he’d thrifted and lugged in the back of his pickup from L.A. -and while it’s just a cheap-shit Merlot it’s still their favourite and they buy three bottles at a time to keep the stash going. Two pizza boxes rest on the floor by their feet, picked apart and empty, only still there because neither are bothered enough to actually throw them away tonight. Some things just wait until morning, and pizza boxes are usually one of those things. 

They’d spent a good hour clicking through Netflix, then Prime, then Paramount, then HBO, and when they still hadn’t found something they felt like watching, Garrett had gotten up from the loveseat and found his speaker and suggested just putting some music on and going from there. Andrew had agreed, of course- and now he’s staring at his Spotify, scrolling through their playlist (collaborative, because they send each other so much music it starts to get confusing) with his brow furrowed just slightly and his free hand balancing the stem of his wine glass between his fingers. There’s a fireplace ambiance video on the TV, and the red-orange-yellow colours only serve to make Andrew look even better, adding more warmth to his skin and his hair and the flash of his smile.

Garrett takes a slow sip from his own glass, silently observing, face quirked up into a grin (and when is it not, when Andrew is concerned?). The ghosts and ghouls are mostly forgotten between them, especially with the bottle of wine half-drained, and a lot of it is just played off as the sounds the place just makes - as if it’s normal and expected and fine. And hey, he hasn’t been stabbed or shoved or possessed yet, so he figures it’s not too far from the truth. Whatever is in here, at least upstairs, seems like it doesn’t really mind either of them. It makes Garrett happier about the apartment, honestly, because there's a chance that ghosts get lonely and maybe them being there is helpful, not harmful, like he’d been scared it would be.

Andrew hums a little sound of confirmation, finally selecting a track, and the sounds of a Drake song start slowly rising from the portable speaker between them. They don’t have it too loud, at least trying to be respectful at the hour of 3:00 AM and not disturb the actual living and working people that call this place home, too. 

“ This is what I’m talking about, baby, yeah!” Andrew says, half-sarcastically, as the bass to ‘Fire and Desire’ comes in, thrumming low atop the chest-table. He discards his phone on the little stretch of cushion between them, letting it slip carelessly from his fingers. His head bobs slightly to the beat as he takes his own sip of wine, almost drained. 

Garrett watches the show from the other end of the loveseat, propping his tired and swimming head up with one hand, elbow pressed into the backrest, creasing into brown leather. He laughs, a little deliriously, more of a high-giggle than anything else. Andrew had just finished playfully shading him for the Mariah Carrey he played previously- though they’d still listened to the whole thing, and teasing aside, Garrett still doesn’t feel ashamed or embarrassed, like so many others have made him feel before. With Andrew it’s always just good and not much else.

Garrett tips his head back a little, looking at the speckled and slightly yellowed ceiling above them, wetting his mouth with the last sip of wine in his glass. He feels almost overwhelmed in this moment, in this slow and perfect little accumulation of good decisions, inside this unpoppable bubble with Andrew that they’ve built for themselves, one brick and stone and weird little stuffed animal at a time. The gratefulness presses against his chest, behind his ribs, and it feels ready to burst out of him. Garrett has a personal rule that he takes quite seriously- that if he has something nice to say it’s always better to say it than to refrain, so he does.

“Andrew, man- This is so cool. Sorry, like, the hardest and sappiest sidebar ever, but,” Garrett looks back down, reaching to set his empty glass aside with a gentle little clink, scanning his eyes around his living room that really feels more like their living room. “C’mon, this is just, y’know, only the most perfect thing ever.”

Andrew nods, tipping back the rest of his own drink, too, reaching across for the bottle to top them both up. Garrett watches as he takes extra care to make them both filled to the exact same line. 

“I mean, besides the horrifying basement ghost, yeah- no, this place is really coming together, when are we starting our, uh… decorating business? Interior design, or whatever.” He says with a waggle of the fingers on his free hand, leaning back into the loveseat, still bobbing subtly to the beat.

Garrett waves his own hand dismissively, shaking his head. “Not just the stuff, Andrew, though thank you because I think you told me about, like, at least half of the things in here. You would definitely run the business, obviously- but I’m the boy with the truck so don’t think you can just buy me out! The Camry can’t hold furniture, you need me!” 

Andrew laughs gently, and it’s as bright and bubbly and intoxicating as ever. Garrett joins him, even though he can feel his heart beat a bit harder in his chest, and he has to swallow the familiar ache in his throat. It’s nothing new to him, and he prides himself at how good he’s gotten at skimming over it and enjoying what he does have, rather than what he never will.

“No, I mean everything. This place is sick, yeah, straight fire even-” Garrett starts, a chuckle in his voice, and Andrew interrupts him with a single lifted finger.

“Lit, you could say.” Is all he adds, struggling to keep a straight face.

“ Lit, yeah, exactly bro,” Garrett responds, slipping easily into his straight-boy character, but only briefly- he really does intend on saying what he means, here, typical derailment be damned. “But also, y’know, look at us! We’ve done so much cool stuff together, and I’m just so damn grateful, man. Thank you, Andrew, for being here, even though most of the time it is absolute insanity.” 

When he settles his eyes on Andrew, he’s looking back at him, now, too. His eyes are crinkled into a smile, and even though they’re red and tired, there’s so much warmth in them that Garrett almost feels taken aback by it. Sometimes he wonders how he even has enough space in his chest for how much he adores Andrew. The thought stings like lemon in a papercut, but he shakes it off.

Andrew shrugs a shoulder, always playing it casual. He huffs a little through his nose, his smile ticking upwards another notch, like he's just thought of something funny that for once Garrett isn’t in on.

“I mean, yeah, it’s been insane, but- but good insane, like- I don’t know, dude, without any of this,” He responds, gesturing to the room around them, finishing by shaking his hand at Garrett, right at him. “I think I’d be insane by now. Bad insane.”

Garrett hums in agreement, nods, tries not to look into things too deeply. 

“Quarantine.” Garrett says simply, raising his eyebrows.

“ Quarantine, exactly, what would we have done? ” Andrew says back, and he’s laughing again, and Garrett wants to, too, but he can’t quite manage more than a little chuckle to cover up his silence. He wonders if Andrew will ever know what those months together really mean to him, and his brow furrows just a touch, inhibitions washy from the alcohol. 

Garrett copes by lifting his wine again, taking a deep swallow, trying to spread out the warmth behind his eyes. 

Andrew considers his own glass for a moment, swirling it gently, ever-careful not to spill a drop over the side onto Garrett’s (their) new furniture. He blinks down at it, and his smile slips, just a touch, matching Garrett’s own. 

There’s something different in the air now, all of a sudden. Garrett isn’t quite sure what to make of it, of the expression on Andrew’s face, the way the silence is dragging on between them in such a strange, alien way, interrupted only by the sound of another Drake song rolling over on the speaker. 

“You ever-” Andrew starts, and pauses. It’s jarring, really, and Garrett almost jumps at the sound of his voice. His smile is gone, now, and he’s second-guessing himself, Garrett knows. He can know a lot just by looking at him, usually, though there’s a sense of unease unfolding here that apparently he can’t quite pinpoint. “Do you ever have any regrets?”

Garrett tilts his head to the side, just slightly, a perfect picture of confusion, pausing with his wine raised halfway to his lips. He thought that he’d derailed the conversation earlier, but this is entering a territory he hadn’t expected. At all. 

“I mean- yeah, regrets, who doesn’t?” He responds, watching as Andrew continues to avoid his eyes, feeling his stomach twist and turn and his heart kick like a drum. “Not about this, though, if that’s what you mean. Like, at all. ”

He adds the last part in a rush, more than anything not wanting Andrew to think he regrets a single facet of their friendship or this little apartment of his (theirs) and the world they’ve built, all the while trying to quell the sinking feeling in his soul when he realises maybe that's what Andrew means.

“Yeah, no- no, me neither, not like that.” Andrew quickly scrambles the words out, and it does help, just a little. It’s genuine, Garrett can feel that much. “Not like that but, there’s… It’s…”

Andrew huffs, frustrated, like he’s angry at himself for his inability to find the right words. Garrett doesn’t really know where this is going, as terrifying as it is, and it’s giving him whiplash from the 180 turn they’ve taken from their happy, private little moment on the couch. His hand feels cold and clammy on his glass and he puts it down lest he drop Merlot all over the carpet. 

Garrett doesn’t understand the way Andrew is looking at him, doesn’t understand why it’s gotten so quiet, suddenly, and so suffocating in the silence, too, despite the music playing between them. He wants to say something, break the sudden unusual tenseness that’s entered the room, but it feels like the spit has dried up in his mouth and his tongue has turned to stone. The alcohol isn’t helping anymore- if anything, it’s made all of this feel even weirder, spacier, and all the more unreal. 

“You good, Andrew?” He says, finally, finding what's left of his voice amid his scrambled thoughts, unable to stand the burning behind Andrew’s eyes anymore. It’s making him want to get up and run and never move from this spot again, all at once, and he’s never been so lost with Andrew before. It’s terrifying, carnally.

Andrew thinks, furrows his brow, scans across Garrett’s face like he’s trying to commit it to memory or find something there that Garrett himself doesn’t know about. Or doesn’t want him to see. Or doesn’t feel like Andrew wants to see. 

Garrett watches as he averts his eyes again, almost relieved. Andrew tips back his drink, taking it all at once, grimacing because chugging wine is a vile, vile thing, and places the empty glass next to Garrett’s. He takes a moment, focused on the table, the little tarnished steel buckles and leather bands of the old chest, and Garrett can almost hear the gears turning in his head and see smoke coming from his ears.

Then, his eyes, again, on Garrett’s own- It could probably kill him, that look, if it hadn’t already. Maybe this is a dream, or an afterlife he isn’t aware he’s in, or some kind of personalised hell curated just for him. 

“Yeah,” Andrew responds, nodding slowly, never breaking gaze. There’s something new to him now that wasn’t there before, some kind of resolve that Garret doesn’t recognize. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Andrew shuffles, a little, on the couch, turning more-so to face Garrett straight on. The cushions are relatively small, close together, making the most of the little space there is to go around. 

“Garrett, I-,” Andrew pauses, looking to the side, and Garrett can see him biting the inside of his cheek. A nervous habit he's noticed a million times over. This is the point, usually, when Garrett would suggest they leave whatever stupid party or store they’re at, or ask what’s getting to him, or otherwise do anything in his power to make things just a little bit easier for Andrew. This time, though, it doesn’t feel like there's anything in the universe that can help. “I’m hoping this isn’t, like, completely out of pocket, here. But if it is just- it’s fine, totally, but just tell me, okay?” 

Garrett blinks over at him, trying to gauge the expression on his face and, for once, failing. But whatever is happening here right now, well- it feels important. Almost as much so as it is scary. It goes without saying that Garrett trusts him, and that isn’t going to change now. Or ever.

“Yeah, no- dude, of course. I got you, Andrew. What’s up?” He asks, and it's like swallowing sand trying to keep his voice steady and not let his apprehension creep onto his face. 

Andrew stares down at the space between them. Back to Garrett. Over at the fireplace on the TV, then Garrett again. His jaw is clenched, shoulders raised, and Garrett watches as he takes a deep, slow breath in and out through his nose. He forces the tension out of himself with it, expunging the anxiety from his body- some of it, anyway. Enough of it to ground himself, at the very least, something from therapy he’d told Garrett about some night long ago.

“You sure?” Is all Andrew says back. He’s looking at Garrett, but not in the eyes. His gaze is lower. Garrett can feel his hands start to shake. 

He nods- it’s all Garrett can manage, right now, with Andrew looking across the small space at him like that. On their couch, in their little spooky apartment, with their music playing softly in the silence. It feels cataclysmic. It feels like maybe they’ve been working towards this night for a long time; an accumulation of every video they’ve filmed, every drink they’ve shared, every valentines day spent at each other's houses and every time they’ve stayed up far, far past midnight only for the sake of being in each others presence- only to do it all over again the next day, and the next, and the one after that. 

Andrew nods, too- slightly, hardly noticeable. It’s almost as if he’s reassuring himself, trying to keep up with the confidence he’s trying to manifest that always seems to be one step ahead of them both. Garrett could try to do the same, but right now it's as if his world is imploding in on itself like an ancient star- an open, gaping black hole threatening to show its face, pull him inside and everything else along with him. He feels as though if he breathes it will be enough to set it off, atoms and particles colliding and accelerating around him, and there won’t be any chance to go back. For better or for worse.

When Andrew does pull forward, one hand moving to the tight little space of cushion between Garretts leg and the plush backrest to steady himself, Garrett almost leans away in response- even if it is the last thing he wants to do. He has an idea, now, about what’s going on here, but it’s happening so fast and so unexpectedly and it still seems like something he shouldn’t want, something that he intrinsically just cannot have and cannot begin to hope to have. He’s spent so long talking to himself in his head about how unfair it would be to Andrew, how it was okay to just have him as a friend, how worth it all of the pining and pain and sadness was if it meant Andrew still got to shine some golden light into the darkest, dustiest corners of his life. Now they’re here, and Andrew is closer than he’s ever been, and he’s only getting closer.

Garrett can see everything, now. He’s looked at him closely in the past, sure, but it had felt weird and creepy because it had been while Andrew was asleep, still and quiet and peaceful and perfect as ever. His lips parted just slightly when he wasn’t awake, curled under Garrett’s spare sheets or curtains or comforter, and Garrett would watch sometimes, fueling dreams of waking up together that he’d try to scrub off of himself in the shower the next morning. They stuck around in his head, no matter how much he wished he could forget them, no matter how much they burned deep in his chest. It still hadn’t stopped him, though. He doubts that anything ever could’ve.

This time, though, Andrew is awake and alive and breathing right in front of him, close enough he can smell the wine on his lips, can see the deep, twisting colours of his iris’, the delicate, light line of eyelashes surrounding them. It gives him a feeling of unreality, a sense of familiarity from the deepest, most burried of his dreams, and it’s somehow so much like them and so, so different at the same time. 

There’s a moment, a beat that passes between them, and it doesn’t quite feel like hesitation- more like Andrew is taking it in, feeling it out, pausing to exist in this proximity to Garrett that’s so unexplored but also just as natural as any other part of them together. 

And then he tips forward, and there’s a hand tangled blindly into the folds of Garrett's shirt, catching on a button, and lips pressed so, so delicately against his own. 

Garrett’s breath hitches in his chest, his ribs tight and hot and constrictive, and it feels like the apartment is spinning around him behind his eyes that have closed on their own volition. He’s never really allowed himself to think of how this would feel. Not sober, anyway -because he’d promised himself a long time ago not to get caught up in things so far removed from his reality -but now he feels a bit stupid. This, right now, is reality, a reality he’d missed before, allowed to pass by him like a bullet train, blinking every time it came around the tracks. 

He makes some little, pathetic sound in his throat, far from purposeful, and Andrew only presses in closer. Neither pull back- instead, Andrew brings Garrett forward by his shirt, and Garrett lets himself be led, and if his mind hadn’t just gone into another stratosphere he might stop to pinch himself now. 

It is everything . It’s tender, it’s soft, it’s caring and kind and slow and a perfect culmination of what Garrett has always loved about Andrew, everything he loves about him now. It feels like their history, their friendship, all of their time spent with no one else on their minds all put together in a moment just for them, and Garrett doesn’t pay mind to the little pin-pricks of moisture at the corners of his eyes. 

Andrew parts, slowly, hand still tangled up in Garrett’s flannel, eyes blinking open as Garrett does the same. 

There’s a moment, then, where Garrett feels scared all over again. His confidence has always been lacking and the sticky, evil part of his brain that insists on self-sabotage pipes up to tell him that this might not be a beginning but an end; Andrew might regret this, might hate it, might just be using Garrett as a little experiment that’s failing right in front of his eyes. Garrett knows better, knows Andrew wouldn’t do that to him in a million years, knows the love between them is genuine even if it is just friendship, but that beat of fear floods across him anyway, a tsunami just as overwhelming as the earthquake-kiss that has caused it to roll out of the ocean in Garrett’s heart. 

But then Andrew is smiling. Smiling and laughing, quiet and breathy, a few steps softer than his usual manic giggle that Garrett has always been so good at drawing out of him. And it’s perfect. It’s right. It feels exactly how it’s supposed to, how it was always supposed to be, like they’ve just found the last puzzle piece under the carpet after weeks of searching high and low. The satisfaction of a complete and beautiful picture in front of them, ready to be framed and hung and put on display for anyone who cared to see. 

“Woah.” Andrew says, simply, between little bouts of laughter that soothe the quakes in Garrett’s soul.  

Garrett nods, and he can feel the corners of his mouth turn upwards, too, and hopes the shakes in his chest are him laughing back. 

“Woah.” He confirms, trying to ignore the bead that does escape and tumble from his eye, running down his cheek.

Andrew doesn’t- he reaches up, swipes it away with his thumb, soft and uncalloused and so much unlike Garrett’s own. He doesn’t mention it, not out loud- he doesn’t need to. He knows why it’s there, knows it’s not a bad thing, knows it’s for him but from a place of happiness, of relief, of the dissipation of something that has been building inside for far, far too long. Andrew does know him better than he knows himself, after all.

Garrett thinks maybe he was right earlier in saying that his world was imploding and collapsing in like a dying star, irreversibly changing the fabric of his universe, their universe- and as terrifying as it had felt, now they’re past it; now it’s a supernova, expanding outwards, white-hot and exciting and fast and full of energy, of atoms, of incredible power and potential that has been there all along, waiting patiently, slowly reacting and changing until the moment of release. Crossing thresholds and boundaries in a slew of colours and light, rippling through them, through this beautiful little home, the Beehive, Garrett’s backyard in L.A., the tiny house, the trails in Spokane and the endless stretches of highway between it all. 

Garrett reaches forward, his hand shaking from how much feeling is breaking through the cracks now, how much want and time and pain and suppression that has been building up inside him for so long. Now finally free, wordlessly gathering and spilling out between them, making sense in the way they just simply and intrinsically do. Garrett doesn’t have words- and he guesses from Andrew’s response, the lopsided grin on his face, that he doesn’t have them either -but when have they ever needed words before? 

He places his hand, gently, on the side of Andrew’s face, mirroring the one on his own, and he can feel everything- every little hair, the tiny imperfections, the softness Andrew exudes. It’s everything he’s never allowed himself to want with any real intention. Still, he’s glad he didn’t. He’s glad he has been patient, has waited for Andrew, has held out for this perfect payoff. Something about it feels right, and he can’t possibly think of any time with Andrew as being wasted, no matter the nature of their relationship.

This is exactly where they’re supposed to be. He doesn’t know how he knows this, but it doesn’t make him any less sure of its truth.

It’s Garrett’s turn now to be swept up in it, to pull forwards into Andrew and everything he’s ever loved with such intensity before, to seal the deal, to feel his world shake again at the touch of their lips-

And then the bedroom door, down the hall, swings open. The creak is loud and jarring and they both jump halfway out of their skin, having let their guard down and forgetting about the incredibly active and horrifying ghost business they’re kissing in the middle of.

They both look over, frozen, gaping at the dark, open chasm of the doorway. Garrett expects himself to be scared, but he isn’t- just as he knows deep within himself how right this is, he knows this isn’t happening with any malice towards them. It feels more like a push in the right direction. Maybe it has been the whole time, and he simply hasn’t been allowing himself to see it.

Gently, as he always is when it comes to Andrew, Garrett guides his head back to face him, back to reality. Garrett is smiling, as open and wide and inviting as he possibly can be, and he can see the fear bleed away from Andrew's face, the way the softness returns to his eyes. He will never, ever take that for granted.

Garrett can’t help it- he starts laughing, and then he can’t stop, building in his chest and boiling over in a tirade, and of course it gets Andrew going, too. They’re used to getting lost in their feedback-loop of giggles, high and intoxicating and overwhelming, the end not yet in sight. With any hope, it never will be. Garrett tips his head back, lost in it, reveling in the sound of the both of them mixing in his ears. 

Andrew only laughs harder, his grasp once again finding it's way to Garrett’s shirt, one that's exchanged hands so many times before they can't remember who bought it in the first place (and really, that only begs the question of why it's taken them so long to get here, doesn’t it?). He tugs him forward, and Garrett crashes into him- he’s never one to back down from a challenge, even the ones he makes up for himself.

They fall, Andrew backwards on the couch, making some loud, very Andrew-esque exclamation between breathless fits. Garrett comes down on top of him, wrapping his arms around Andrew, pulling himself close, taking everything in in a blur of noise and colours and emotions.

“Garrett- NO!” Andrew shouts in surprise, still smiling and laughing and unabashedly happy. It’s far too loud for this time of night, breaking their personal promise to not be everyone's least favourite neighbours. 

“Oh, Andrew! Carry me away, like Richard Gere!” He says, high and sing-songy and as naturally Garrett as ever, if not more. He plants little pecs across his cheek, into his hair, wherever he can reach as Andrew tries to playfully bat him away, to somehow escape Garrett’s impressively tight grasp on him, and they both know he won’t succeed. It’s also understood that he doesn’t want to, not really.

He could stay like this forever, caught in the tide of Andrew, riding this wave as it crashes towards the shore, only to be pulled back out to sea again, endlessly looping and endlessly happy and fulfilled and beautiful. 

And, he thinks, he will- they both will. Their supernova, their space in the universe, their perfect explosion. It’s only just beginning now, after all this time, and the future is so, so bright and shining that Garrett wouldn’t change a thing. 

Not for all of the stars in the sky. Garrett already has his, after all. He always has, and he always will.

[nectaric]

GET  TO  KNOW  THE  MUN.

what made you pick up the muse you have? i'll pick a few: zeus was because i was obsessed with greek mythology thanks to percy jackson and other books i had read, but specifically with hades. when i stumbled across a group rp waaay back in the day that seemed cool, i wanted to join but hades wasn't available so i went "i guess i'll give zeus a shot" and the rest was history. i added athena bc i watched age of ultron for the first time, saw lizzie olsen and went "THAT'S ATHENA!!" i added demeter bc there were no active dem's at the time and i missed her :(

is there anything you don't like to write? there is very little i won't write, i think, under the right circumstances. i find super mundane stuff boring after a little while, but that doesn't mean i don't like it period. i guess i don't like writing things where my muses feel like punching bags *coughszeuscoughs* but i mean otherwise, i'm game for most things!

is there anything you really enjoy writing? FAMILY DYNAMICS are like. my number one. i love dads getting to bond with their kids. i love sibling shenanigans. i love family taking care of each other, i love family arguing, i love family opening up about their pasts and painful experiences. i. love. family dynamics so much, FOUND or otherwise! i'm also a fan of intense angst situations, too.

how do you come up with your headcanons? pure vibes, man. once i really get a feel for a character as i write them, the headcanons kinda just write themselves. some of my more in depth ones come from a lot of thought and speculation, usually done by talking to myself in my room lol, but i really just... imagine them up. sometimes it comes from talking with others, but that's slightly rarer.

do you write in silence or listen to music? usually without music, unless i actually have a space to myself and can throw on some instrumental stuff. but yeah, its usually just with the ambient sounds and chatter of my house.

do you plan your replies or wing them? sometimes i plan them when i first read them because i have a good idea, but for the most part, i wing it when i get to them.

do you enjoy shipping? for the most part, yeah. i can sometimes find shipping a little... repetitive. so i really do need a strong connection between muses and some exciting stuff to throw in to keep it interesting. i much prefer platonic / familial ships, but i do love a good romantic one, too!

what's your alias / name? renee! which is just my middle name but its a vibe, i like it better than my real name.

zodiac sign? aquarius babyyyyy!

birthday? it was back in feb

favorite color? i am such a sucker for green rn, in all shades, but i also really like baby blue n yellow.

favorite song? i think rn its superstar by lilyisthatyou

last movie you watched? MOVIE? i think it was barbie actually

last show you watched? sword art online kdjfhnd

last song you listened to? life itself by glass animals

favorite food? oh my GODDDDD okay listen up. my favourite food ever is a very specific taco from a tiny hole in the wall shop in san jose iturbide, mexico. its a chorizo taco con cebollas and some salsa verde and i DREAM OF THOSE TACOS. i ate those like four times a week for four months. they're incredible.

favorite season? i'm an autumn girlie at my heart, but canada rarely lets me have a NICE autumn :((

do you have a tumblr best friend? @aetheryic is my literal bestie of like 11 years or something and was the one who ran the group rp where i discovered my love of zeus so :///

tagging: all of you!

[andaeul]

Written in accordance with THE STAR PROMPTS: TWO, specifically the The Essentials prompt. Synopsis: An Daeul films a video in collaboration with STAR Labels, unveiling the Top 10 Items He Can't Live Without.

Being in front of a camera doesn't make him uneasy anymore. It seems like, for the better part of the last few years, his memories are always being captured; saved as an mp4 file and shot into the technological cosmos known as the internet. In the beginning, the thought of being watched by thousands, maybe even millions, of people seemed daunting, but now, the butterflies he once had whenever an HD lenses zoomed in on him have all flown away. Nowadays, he finds the recording process incredibly mundane.

It's become his everyday life, and like with all humdrum things, he merely goes through the motions now; muscle memory and his signature effortless wit making his content flow smoothly, like a glistening stream of water at the top of a mountain's peak. While he appreciates the ease, there's a big part of him that wishes he still found his career path incredibly exciting, like he used to.

As an adventurous spirit, An Daeul wants to dip his toes into different types of waters, and while nothing has been decided yet, he's aching to start a new adventure soon.

For now, though, he's sat in a minimally set-dressed studio, he's bowing his head to the small crew of people who are there to help him, and is moments away from informing a camera of some of his all-time favorite things; things that he simply can't live without, as they say. He's done something like this on his own channel, but it was focused more on cosmetics, skincare, and fashion items. This time, his choices are hand-selected from a rather broad category, and he's hoping that whoever chooses to give him a view will be entertained.

When it's finally time for him to launch into things, he takes a deep breath, checks the bag that's placed on the table beside him, and once he's prepared, he sits up straight and paints on a lovable expression, genuinely aiming to exude warmth and conviviality. It's something he's learned to master, even while communicating via screen.

"Hi, everyone. I'm An Daeul, your favorite influencer, and I'm here to share with you some of my top-favorite essentials!" His first line is given a nod by the director, and he knows then that she's telling him to proceed; that his energy level and vocal clarity are fine. "First of all, we have this gorgeous oversized by tote-bag from Prada." Placing it in center, he shows it off with a smile. "I love how big it is, and I love that it adds a pop of color to any outfit I put on. I love using it in the spring and summer months, especially, but it works for winter, too."

Opening it up, he grabs onto the first item and grins from ear-to-ear; cheeky in spirit for the audience he's imaging in his head. "This is a polaroid camera, which I've recently become obsessed with. Last year, I started scrapbooking during downtime, and this camera has basically become my best friend. I take it with me everywhere." Setting it down carefully, he continues to the next item. "These are obvious, and I feel like an essential for most people these days, but I never leave without my AirPods. I'm one of those people who needs to have a song playing in the background of everything. I like thinking of my life as a drama, honestly."

With a round of laughter, he's excited to show what's up next. "This might sound corny, but this is a necklace that my grandmother gave to me back in Jeju. She filled this small vial with sand from the beach near our house, then told me that she wants me to keep this with me at all times so I never forget where I come from..." Daeul smiles fondly, clutching it in his palm. "If I don't wear it, I usually have it in my bag. My grandma is my favorite person in the world. Love you, grandma." He lilts, making a mental to note to phone home later.

"Now, these... are life-changing!" Slowly, he sets a couple of bottles of supplements and vitamins on the table; presenting them with flutters of his fingers. "I'm on the move a lot, and these really help me make sure I'm taking care of myself when I'm rushing around. I don't think I've gotten sick in years, and I genuinely believe it's thanks to these. I highly recommend you consider adding some supplements into your daily routine. You'll thank me later!"

Throughout the duration of the video, he showcases his all-time favorite scent, Le Labo's Santal 33, his favorite book of poetry penned by queer writers, a scarf that was gifted to him by a designer of a brand he's partnered with, a rose water face mist, and lastly, a package of the coveted Pokémon bread; the one with Jigglypuff on the wrapper. At the end of it, he opens the snack and takes a huge bite; sweetly sending the viewers off with a funny smile, his lightly glossed pout littered with crumbs of the strawberries-and-creme-flavored pastry.

When all is said and done, he's told they'll get it edited and posted soon, and as he heads onto his next schedule for the day, he feels like he did as good of a job as he could.

[9800sblog]

Britney Spears tarot reading - her energy, what's going on around her?

asking tarot what are the good and bad energies (things happening, people, influences, etc) around Mrs. Britney Spears in the present moment (18/05/2023 GMT-3), this is what the cards showed me and how I interpreted it.

requested by @rosearex

[I asked tarot if I have her energy permission to post this reading and I got the high priestess]

-> negatives

we'll start with negatives to end on a brighter note ^U^

the biggest thing is that britney still has remains of herself and her life inside the conservatorship, it's a really big and recent event in her life, so she's still learning and unlearning a lot. she's impatient to see progress, which is making her frustrated, angry and insecure. she's really tired, she is working really hard for herself, relying on her friends, but she feels there's nobody that really gets her, she's tired of feeling stuck and lonely and having to fight. she's making progress, it's just not as fast as she wishes and it's frustrating. she feels she lost the best years of her life and was punished for things that almost everyone does, so she's really in a rush to live her life the best she can, but she still feels stuck, the material world has many ties to her past.

the process into healing is exhausting, there is a lot that she needs to think about and be introspective about and uncover and fix and heal, she just wants to be teletransported into a good place, she doesn't really wanna stay thinking of bad things.

i think she moved to her new house recently and i know she is redesigning her place and she is mentioning here that one of the bad things happening around her is the messes kkkkkkkkk she is saying her place of isolation and rejuvenation is a mess!!!!

-> positives

first of all, she's seeing her money again, which she LOVES, her father is like totally far away from her which she also loves XD she can be free, she has space, things are a mess, but she's FINE, her spirit is coming back, bitch!!! she feels so inspired and lucky, she's taking all her time, she feels powerful, she is loving to be able to do stuff again and call the shots, her house seems to be like her new big project, but I wouldn't be surprised if she has other ones. it's bringing her so much emotional fulfillment, she's rising above the chaos and her enemies X) she's doing all these mundane things she wasn't able to before and it's giving her LIFE. she's like purging almost kkkkkk it seems really good!! she's in a really good place!! :>

britney is so cool, so pretty, like inside and out, she is so cool, I love britney! I love her confidence oh my god she's like so cool, I'm so happy things are working on her favor now!!! love you, brit!!!!