#I listen to the same stuff like over and over

[inurnctdreams]

dress - m.l

idol!mark x idol fem!reader

genre: fluff, suggestive, established relationship, one shot, song fic (maybe?? i wouldn’t class it as one but there are references to lyrics and the song inspired the fic so??)

warnings: swearing, very suggestive (grinding, making out, over the clothes stuff but no explicit sex), alcohol, mentions of being tipsy/drunk (mark and reader have been drinking but everything is consensual), pet names (baby, babe, pretty girl, mine/yours, dude (affectionate)), mdni

wc: 3.1k

notes: this entire thing stemmed from this gifset that gave me mark brainrot and made me think of the song dress by taylor swift

you’re pretty sure you’re supposed to be paying attention to the conversation happening in front of you right now. one of the executives for mbc… or was it kbs? whoever it was, they were important in the industry and they were talking at you and your group mates about your latest comeback stage… or maybe next year’s end of year concert that was already in the planning stages? you’d kind of stopped listening about five minutes ago. and it wasn’t your fault, really. you took your career seriously and wouldn’t dream of disrespecting anyone who was showing interest in your group by ignoring them usually, but you’d heard zhong chenle’s signature dolphin laugh across the room and that had been it. he’s here.

it would obviously be absolutely, outrageously scandalous for you to take off mid conversation, make a beeline for the group that had walked in and greet him like you want to. you have some modicum of self control and societal responsibility. and it isn’t a surprise, you knew he’d be here, you’d even gotten updates via text with a rough estimate of when he’d walk in. but you haven’t seen him in person in over three weeks and you’ve been looking forward to this night since the last time he’d kissed you goodbye at your door before sneaking back out of your dorm building to his car. 3am on a tuesday morning had turned out to be the only time the both of you were in the same city and without obligations in months. comebacks, tours, interviews. both of your lives were so hectic, it was difficult enough to get a moment to yourself to breathe, let alone together. now he’s here, in the same room as you, and you can’t do anything about it. the anticipation is killing you.

it hadn’t stopped you from pausing mid sentence when you’d registered his presence, though. disguising it with a cough and a modest apology, you’d finished your words and promptly stopped contributing to the conversation. smiling politely with your best poker face on as you tuned out of whatever was being discussed further and listened out across the room for any sign of him. chenle’s laugh is infectious, so donghyuck’s high pitched giggles soon joined in, audible above the rumble of laughter that had erupted from that corner of the room. but that was it. once the joke had worn off, the usual sounds of casual conversation replaced it, no doubt one of the older members’ doing as they reminded them of their surroundings. the first hour or so of award show after parties tend to be just the thing you’re ignoring: prominent figures in the industry congratulating and backhandedly complimenting idols whilst trying to promote something or take advantage of rookies with less media training by getting them to reveal secrets or agree to things.

once they’ve either gotten what they wanted or given up trying, they make their way out and the real party starts. realising you’re going to get nothing from the indiscernible voices in their direction, you start to work out how long you’ve been here, and how long you have to wait before it won’t be suspicious of you to drag your group over there to greet them. unfortunately, you’re interrupted midway through your mental calculations by something digging into your side. it’s gone before you even register the touch, light and inconspicuous. you glance down momentarily before meeting the eyes of your group mate, amusement dancing in her eyes.

“sorry, i didn’t quite catch that last bit.” your years of experience in the spotlight and exceptional training kick in immediately. you turn back to the middle-aged man in front of you with a practised innocent smile. “what were you saying?”

you smile graciously at the waitress as she hands you a flute of expensive champagne off of the shiny silver tray in her hand. taking a small sip, you school your face into a neutral expression to hide the wince at the acidic taste. you’ve never been much of a fan of the stuff, but it’s always handed out at events so you’ve gotten somewhat used to it in the years you’ve been legally allowed to drink at them. this is your second glass, and yet again you find yourself longing for the boring portion of the night to be over so the alcohol can start flowing more freely. you meet the eyes of your group mate and share a look, she hates champagne too. giggling to yourselves, you almost don’t notice the group of twenty-something boys heading in your direction, led by taeyong.

you’re immediately at full attention, straightening up from the pillar you’d been leaning against and placing your half full champagne flute on the nearest surface as you grin at your friends approaching. it’s almost comical, how the amount of people surrounding you in that moment feels like you’re looking for him in a crowd rather than just among his own group members. but then yuta moves to say hi to your group mate and there he is. god, he looks heavenly. the all black ensemble complimented by silver jewellery, his artfully tousled hair, the hint of gloss that have his lips looking so shiny and kissable it’s taking all of your entire being not to ravish him right here and now in the middle of this crowded room. not that he needs any of it to start up the roaring of butterflies in your stomach or trigger the giddy high you’re feeling. no, mark lee makes you feel like this every time he looks at you. barefaced, old t-shirt and glasses on with a hint of stubble starting to grow in as you sit next to him in the studio. bleary eyed, half asleep and hair sticking up as your phone alarm goes off on his bedside table. hoodie, snapback and face mask hiding most of his face as he slips into your practise room and catches your gaze in the mirror.

“y/n.” and everything just stops. the rest of the room falls away, the roar of conversation as your groups say hi is silenced, all you can see, hear, feel is him. the way he looks you up and down appreciatively that still makes your heart flutter despite it happening every time he sees you. he just has this way of making you feel like you’re the only one his attention would ever be captured by.

“hi, mark.” there’s a smile on your face, and you’re trying to make it your usual polite idol, public appearance smile, but really you have no control and you can feel the corners of your mouth turning up further against your will. you think that if you looked, his would be similar, probably that mischievous half-smirk he does that makes his dimple appear. and you love his dimple, but you’re currently captivated by the lovestruck look in his eyes. in that moment, you’re thankful you’d put your glass down because you would’ve dropped it. your hands shake as you force yourself to hold back from him. your groups are publicly very good friends, having known each other as trainees and debuting within a year of each other. you and mark have been best friends for years, and that’s all it was until the mutual pining hit its peak. there was something so beautiful about being in love with your best friend, with someone who understood how demanding your career was and already knew everything about you and who was still your best friend alongside being your boyfriend. around you, the rest of nct are giving your group mates half-hugs or shoulder nudges, but you don’t move to touch him, knowing you won’t let go if you initiate physical contact.

“y/n!” johnny rips you from your bubble. you have no idea how long you and mark were stood there, staring into each other’s eyes with that look on your faces, but it must’ve been long enough if someone’s intervened. the older idol pulls you into a short hug, but not before leaning down to murmur in your ear. “we know you guys are like, sickeningly in love, but would it kill you to not make it super obvious while there’s still cameras everywhere?”

oops.

“mark!” you whisper. or at least you hope you do, you’re pretty tipsy by this point in the evening. he just laughs, equally inebriated, and continues pulling you down the empty corridor, fingers intertwined. on a scale of zero to having your relationship exposed by dispatch come morning, sneaking off together a mere forty minutes after the industry execs had left the party is probably a solid deniable accusation. not exactly a great idea, but if anyone found out it wouldn’t be the end of the world, just carefully curated excuses in a statement and an earful from management. the first couple of doors he tries are locked, but third time seems to be the charm as you’re pulled into a room and plunged into darkness when the door clicks shut behind you.

“c’mere baby.” and you let go. all the pressure from being around so many people that could ruin your careers with one article, all the stolen glances across the room, all the secret smiles you share, all the patience that had been slowly wearing thin the longer you were in his proximity but not being able to do anything about it. it’s been been building all evening, and the dam finally breaks.

you practically throw yourself into his arms, winding your own around his neck as his wrap around your middle. he holds you to him so tight it hurts a little, but you’re probably slightly choking him with how strong your own grip is. the initial ‘holy shit you’re here and i can touch you without everyone looking’ moment passes and you both relax slightly. he still holds you close but it’s more grounding and comforting than anything. you bury your face into his neck and just let yourself breathe him in. his scent, the underlying notes of mark and home underneath the fancy cologne. the steady, comforting beat of his pulse against you. his arms are your safe place and being held by him makes everything better, even if just a little. you can’t count the number of times you’ve been exhausted or stressed or upset or scared or angry and all he’s had to do is pull you into him. you’ve cried on him, ranted into his chest and listened to him murmur words of encouragement and reassurance and love into your ear. there’s no other place you’d ever want to be. and even when you couldn’t physically be with him, he’s been there on facetime, or phone call, or over text. you’ve done the same for him without hesitation more times than you can imagine. he’s your person, your best friend, your soulmate, your everything, your one and only, your lifeline. you feel him press firm kisses into your hair and smile against his throat, snuggling into him happily.

“missed you.” you mumble. the alcohol in your system is amplifying the giddy feeling that’s thrumming through your entire being. all semblance of public image and self-control come crumbling down in front of him like always until all that’s left is the unguarded, most raw versions of yourselves laid bare for each other. he squeezes your hips and pulls back a little to look you in the eyes. you’ve adjusted to the darkness enough to make out his facial features and that same unfiltered, pure love is staring back at you from earlier but now he’s unabashedly grinning at you and his cheeks are flushed with happiness (and alcohol). his dimple is out in full force as he giggles right back at you. this is your mark, the one reserved for you and you only.

“fuck, you’re so perfect.” he whispers. “wish we could stay in here forever, just us.”

“i know.” you bite your lip, and his eyes zero in on your mouth. “wait, where even are we?”

“i don’t care.” and just as quickly as the wholesome, lovesick feeling had flooded you, the arousal and want flares up, threatening to consume you the second he grabs your face and claims your lips in a kiss that’s anything but gentle. he walks you both backwards until you’re pressed up against the door, gripping the sides of his jacket both for stability and to satiate the overwhelming need to get your hands on him. you whine against his lips as one of his hands slips into your hair and pulls gently, letting your hands roam under his jacket all over his waist and up his chest until they’re holding his shoulders. you use the leverage to push yourself up onto your tiptoes to match his heated, open-mouth kisses with the same carnal energy. he groans, the sound making you shiver and adding to the warmth pooling in your abdomen. the hand that’s not in your hair drops down to slide around you and grab your hip, pulling you even closer so you’re flush against his body. the need for oxygen is beginning to grow, but you’re addicted to the floaty, lightheaded feeling that comes along with it. it soon becomes too much, though, the both of you breathing heavily as you break away for air, but he wastes no time in leaving a trail of kisses down your jaw and neck, each one hotter and more filthy than the last.

“mark.” you whimper, turning your head to the side to grant him more access to your throat. he nips at your pulse point softly, careful not to leave a visible mark, but it makes you gasp and arch into him further all the same.

“my pretty girl.” he pants against your skin. “all mine.”

“mm-hmm.” you agree. “yours.” and you are, fully and irrevocably his in every sense of the word. you thread your own hands into his hair and pull his face back up to kiss him again. you could spend forever kissing him and never be satisfied, never get bored. it doesn’t matter than you know him better than you know yourself, or that you’ve spent hours in this exact same position with him already. there seems to be this endless need inside you for mark lee that started when you met him. you were kids back then, but you always craved his presence, his attention. over the years it’s developed, but the need for him has never wavered, even after he became yours.

“been thinking about this all night, you look incredible.” he confesses between kisses, both hands dropping from around you to wander under your dress and start caressing your thighs. his touch is electrifying, leaving trails of fire in his wake as he slides his hands up to grab your ass and squeeze it. the subsequent jolt of excitement has you whimpering against him and his grip moves to the crease where your ass and thighs meet. he kneads the soft flesh there sensually before squeezing again, and that’s all the warning you get before he lifts you up and presses you back against the door in one fluid motion without even breaking the kiss. you’re quick to wrap your legs around his waist, ankles crossing against his back. not that you think he’ll drop you, it’s never happened before, you just use the leverage to pull him in until you’re happily trapped between the cold, hard surface of the door and your boyfriend’s warm, inviting body. you both groan as his hips roll into yours. whether it was a result of you pulling him in or an intentional movement on his part is unknown, but the way he bites your lip and grinds his crotch into yours again is definitely not an accident. with you now supporting yourself, he’s free to bring one hand up to your chest, groping at your tits through your dress. his hips haven’t stopped moving, and you can feel the way he’s quickly hardening against your underwear. whilst the sensation is incredible, it snaps you out of the trance you’ve been in.

“babe.” you moan. “mark, baby, we can’t.”

“you mean we shouldn’t.” he smirks.

“no, i mean someone is going to notice we’re gone soon, if they haven’t already, and come looking for us.” you counter. he stops moving and looks up at you, the fog of arousal starting to clear from his expression. he sighs exasperatedly, knowing you’re right.

“fine.” he lowers you back to your feet. you know you both probably no longer resemble the perfect idol look your stylists and hair and makeup artists crafted before you decided to sneak off for a tipsy make out session in one of the back rooms, so you feel around for a light switch. your eyes squeeze shut as the room is flooded with light, blinking a couple times to readjust your vision. a giggle escapes you as you take in how adorably disheveled mark looks, hair tousled, collar rumpled and the pink hue of your lipstick smudged around his lips. although, you’re sure you look pretty similar.

you spend a couple minutes making yourselves look presentable again before you rejoin the party. “i should probably go first, give you a couple of extra minutes to calm down.” you tease, eyeing the tent in his pants.

“i bet if i checked, you’d still be soaking wet for me.” he retorts, eyes darkening slightly, sending a flush of heat straight to your core. he’s not lying. you take a deep breath to compose yourself before opening the door and stepping out into the corridor. you turn back to your boyfriend.

“behave.”

“the rest of this party’s gonna be torture, having to watch you go around looking like that.” he looks you up and down appreciatively again, though this time it’s a lot less innocent. you’re so glad that your schedules have calmed down enough to allow you more time together for the next month or so, the last couple months without being able to see him properly have been rough.

“well you can show me how much you like it when we get back to yours, later.”

“i plan to.”

“good. ‘cause i only bought this dress so you could take it off.” you smirk as the door shuts behind you.

“not helping, dude!” his voice is muffled as you begin walking back towards the party, giggling to yourself as you go. “i hate you!”

“no you don’t!”

[samandcolbyownme]

Summary: full one shot based off of this snippet - I added more details to this one.

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, swearing, onlyfans!reader, consensual recording/picture taking, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, dirty talk, praising, oral (f rec), hair pulling, choking, filthy filth

Word Count: 3.2k | not edited

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

You were at home, racking your brain on new ways to spice up your website. A new outfit? No. A new lingerie set? No.

You chewed on your lip, letting out a frustrated sigh as nothing peaked your interest.

The feeling of your phone vibrating on your thighs, distracts you from your thoughts when you see Colby’s name on the screen, “Hey.”

“Hey. Do you have plans tonight?” Colby asks, not really sounding like he even wants to be talking to you right now.

“Um, no. I don’t think so, why?” You sit up and wait for him to speak, but he’s still quiet, “Colby?”

“I gotta go.”

You hear the three beeps and slowly pull your phone away from your ear, confused as hell, “What the fuck?” You shake your head, trying to figure out why Colby sounded different on the phone.

He didn’t tell you if anything was bothering him, he seemed fine before he left, which is what makes it weird because he couldn’t even be on the phone with you.

But it also made you kind of worried. You liked Colby.

A lot.

The one thing that’s been holding you back from telling him about said feelings, is mainly your onlyfans page.

You weren’t sure whether or not Colby would be okay with that. You wanted Colby and you honestly felt like he wanted you, too. But, at the same time, you weren’t sure if he would want to be with someone that has shown and continues to show their tits for money.

You toss your phone down with a sigh before walking over to retrieve your new lingerie sets from your bottom dresser drawer. You lay them out, deciding on which one to pick before changing into it.

You grab your camera, setting it on your tripod before moving to get on the bed, posing in various positions before repeating if with the next set.

You were honestly shocked that you haven’t been walked in on before. Sometimes you get so into taking pictures or recording stuff that you heard something at the last second that’s saved you from even Sam walking in.

You wrapped up getting dressed right at the perfect time. As soon as you pulled your shirt down over your body, you hear the front door open and close with a powerful shove.

You wait a few seconds, trying to listen to if you can tell where they’re going, but panic at the last second when you hear them growing closer.

You shove your tripod in your closet before moving to shove the lingerie back into the bottom dresser drawer.

Just as you turn around, there’s a knock on your door and you know it Colby, “Come in.”

The door opens and he walks in, “Hey.”

You give him a smile, “What’s up, Colbs?” Your smile slowly fades away when he doesn’t look at you for a few seconds, “Colby?”

He doesn’t look at you when he asks, but his words shockyou, “Do you do porn?”

You blink a few times, processing what he just asked you, “um. I-I, mean yes and no.”

“What do you mean yes and no?” He turns towards you, “Do you just, go through guys? Like what? how does that work?”

You hold up your hand, “Whoa, back it the hell up, Colby. I don’t just go through guys.” You scoff, “What is your deal?”

Colby sighs, “My deal, is that you do porn and you never told me?” He shrugs, “You sleep in the room next to mine.. I don’t, this is big, y/n.”

You laugh slightly, mainly trying to cover up your nervousness, “Colby. Listen to me. It’s not straight up porn. Okay? I do OnlyFans. I don’t do anything nude. Well..”

He looks at you, “What do you do?”

You sit down on your bed, reaching over to grab your laptop, “If you want to know, just..” You get in, clicking around until you pull up your page, “Here. Look. The only really bad thing is that I show my boobs, and every now and then I will post a video. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it.”

He walks over, sitting down beside you as he takes your laptop. You can tell there’s a positive change to his demeanor and you bite your lip.

You watch as his eyebrows raise with each picture that’s more scandalous than the last. You hear his breath hitch when he stumbles across your first video - purple vibrator sliding in and out of your pussy.

“So..” you cause him to jump slightly but you don’t pay any attention to it, “..who told on me?”

Colby laughs, “well.. actually.” He looks over at you, “One of Sam’s buddies sent him a screen shot and asked if it was you.”

“Why would Sam know? I haven’t told anyone I do this.” You tilt your head and Colby shrugs, looking back to your computer as he scrolls down, “I don’t know, but yeah.” He turns his phone towards you and points to this picture on your computer, “Its this one.”

You purse your lips, “That was a pay to see picture.”

“Wait, what’s that mean?” Colby looks at you and you can’t help but giggle, “It means.. whoever screenshotted that and sent it to Sam, paid to unlock it so they could see it.”

“So, they’re subscribed to you?” Colby asks and you nod, “or someone else he knows is?” You shrug, “I’m not sure, Colby.”

You could see the jealousy plastered on his face as he just stares at you, “Uh huh.” He jocks his jaw and nods, “Okay.”

He sets your computer down on the bed and stands up, hands on his hips as he tries to process everything you just shared with him, photos and all.

“So what? Are you like mad at me? Not friends anymore?” You purse your lips, “Like does this make you look at me differently?”

Colby shakes his head, “Not really. Well..” he laughs slightly, motioning towards you computer, “..I mean, okay. I see you differently now, but like..” He trails off, trying to find his wording as he scratches his brow, “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I didn’t want to tell you because I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it and I didn’t want to risk ruining our friendship.”

Colby chuckles, “Ruined?” He shake his head, “No. not at all. As I said. Different.. a hundred percent.”

“Different?” You ask as you tilt your head and he nods, “Oh yeah. You’re so much hotter than I originally thought.”

You can feel your cheeks growing warm and Colby’s next question didn’t help any matters, “So, how do you feel about potentially doing full blown.. porn?”

Fuck, you think, “Um. I mean..” you laugh slightly and look down before looking back up at him, “Maybe if it was someone I was comfortable with?”

You nod, Colby heavy on your mind, “Yeah. I think I could do it.”

A smirk grows on his lips as he slowly leans in, giving a nod to the right with his head, “Go get those pretty little outfits, because we’re about to be making you bank, baby.”

You tilt your head, “Why don’t we just get right to it.” You grip the collar of his shirt and pull him down as you lay back. He goes with you, his lips attacking your neck.

“Don’t we need the camera?” Colby leans back and you nod, “Yeah.” You breathe out, “It’s in my closet on the tripod.”

You look up at him with a smirk, “I took some pictures while you and Sam were out.”

“Mm, I’ll need to see those, too then.” He pushes himself up and goes to get the camera. He turns it on after taking it off, clicking a few times, “And we’re rolling.”?

He walks over to you, “Go ahead and take those clothes off for me, baby.” He bites down on his lip as he alternates watching you in the little screen and behind it, “Fuck, look at you.”

You toss your shirt to the side, leaving you topless as you move to sit on your calves, thumb hooking into the waistband of your shorts, “You like what you see?”

“Baby you have no idea.” Colby bites down on his lip, watching as you slowly push your shorts down your thighs. You fall back, lifting your legs to kick them off and Colby pulls them off of your ankles, tossing them behind him.

“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart.” Colby bends down, pointing the camera directly at your pussy, “You look fucking so good.”

You gasp as Colby’s thumb drags up and down your folds, “P-please.” You whimper as you buck your hips, “I need you.”

Colby pushes his thumb into your cunt, angling the camera up at your face as your eyes roll back and you moan, “Fuck, yes.”

He angles the camera back down just as he starts to slowly work his thumb in and out of you, making sure to film how fast your wetness costs his skin, “Fuck, you’re so wet already.”

“Been wanting you.” You roll your hips at the loss of his thumb inside of you, “P-please.”

He chuckles as he sets the camera down on the bed, “Play with yourself while I undress, sweetheart.” You watch as he steps back, waiting until your fingers start working circles on your clit to undress.

“There ya go, baby.” He whispers, lip pulled between his teeth as his fingers move to unbutton his shirt, “Fuck, you’re so hot.”

Your eyes track his shirt as it falls to the floor and you slide two fingers in, gasping at the feeling. Colby nods, “Keep going. Fuck, listen to that.”

Colby finishes undressing, picking up the camera and giving it a closer look at your needy cunt, your fingers weren’t cutting it.

“Here baby.” Colby hands you the camera and you smirk as you take it, flipping it around to capture him moving between your legs.

His hands snake under your thighs to lay across your hips and your legs hook over his shoulders. Your back arches with the first swipe of his tongue, moaning out as you dig your heels into his upper back.

Colby’s face is buried in your cunt, his tongue thrusting in and out as his fingers dig into your skin, “Fuck.” He groans against you, “You taste so fucking good.”

You moan loudly as his nose pushes against your clit, your orgasm being drug out with the curling of his tongue, “Fuck, fuck.” You gasp, “C-colby.”

He holds onto you, not letting go as your walls clench around his tongue, moans and incoherent mumbles leave your lips as he guides you through your high.

Your hand tangles tightly into his hair, earning a groan from him as he pulls away, “The best pussy I have ever tasted.” He crawls up, lips crashing onto yours and you moan when the taste of yourself creeps into your tongue.

He sits up, taking the camera from you so he can record his cock rubbing up and down your folds before pushing between them.

He groans, angling the camera up to your face to capture what you look like feeling his cock for the first time, “Fuck, fuck.” You arch your back, rolling your hips forward and you gasp when he thrusts his hips into you.

“Fuck, baby girl. You’re taking me so well.”

His hand grips your hips as the other grips the camera tighter, “Fuck, you have such a beautiful pussy.” He groans lowly as he slowly pulls out, “Fuckin’ hugs my cock perfectly.”

You moan loudly as his cock is thrusted into you. Colby looks at you from behind the camera, watching your face twist with pleasure as he slowly pulls out and thrust back in.

He breathes out, “You’re already making me want to cum.” His hand slides over to press his thumb to your clit. He smirks as he hears whimpers and moans of approval slip from your lips, growing louder the harder his thrusts grow.

Your back is arches off the bed as your hands grip the blankets hard, moaning out loudly as Colby’s cock is repeatedly slammed into your cunt, “S-so close, fuck.”

“Come on baby.” Colby sets the camera down, angled to capture your body and your legs around his waist, “Cum for me.”

He groans lowly as he bends down to kiss you. Your arms wrap around his neck and his hand slides down your body, giving your hip a squeeze, “You feel so good.”

You moan, nails dragging up and down his back as you cum, holding onto his for leverage, “Fuck, fuck, yesyesyes.”

You throw your head back, a nonstop string of moans leaving your lips as Colby not only, fuck you through your high, but marks up your neck in the process.

He rolls over, grabbing the camera to film your body on his, groaning as he watches his cock disappear inside of you, “Fuck, that’s it baby.” He reaches out, sliding his fingers along your open thigh, “Just like that.”

You tilt your head back, hands squeezing his thighs as you bounce up and down, whining out as you feel yourself growing close, yet again.

“One more time.” Colby whispers, his hips bucking upward, “M’so close, too baby.”

“Need you.” You whimper, grinding your hips down.

“What was that, sweetheart?” Colby asks as his hand grips your hips, the other still keeping the camera as steady as he can.

You lean down, kissing up his neck, “Want you to cum in me.” You kiss his lips, “Need all of you.”

He nods his head and you roll off of him, biting down on your lip when he grips your throat and pushes you backward.

His hand remains on your neck as his cock slips into you, “You’re gonna be so full.” His thrusts pick up rather quickly, your moans muffled by his hand squeezing harder as he rails into you.

His films you body jolting with each thrusts, groaning at the sight of you tits bouncing, face turning red from the lack of air.

“Fuck.” He lets go of your neck, cupping your cheek but you keep it up by taking his thumb between your lips.

“oh, baby.” He groans, burying his cock deeper into you, “Fuck, you’re such a slut aren’t you.” He grips your chin, earning a whimper from you as you give him a nod.

“Say it, baby.”

“Your slut.” You moan out, clenching your walls around his cock, “I’m your slut.” You moan loudly, back arching as you gasp out.

You come undone underneath him one again, moaning out as you feel his cock twitch inside of you. Your legs loses from around his waist and he sits up, filming your pussy as he pulls out.

You lift your legs, wrapping an arm around them to hold them up. Colby’s thumb pulls your pussy lip to the side, groaning as you push more of his cum out.

“Look at that.” Colby whispers as his thumb swipes upward. He reaches up, leaning forward to film you sucking the cum off his thumb, “Atta girl, baby.”

You smile up at him and he stops filming, moving to lay beside you, “How was that?”

“Exciting.” You breathee out as you roll over to face him, “But I have a question for you.” He nods and you sigh, “Do you want to be known? Like do you want me to cut out anything that has you in it?”

He laughs, “Baby. Like I said before, we’re going to make you bank, so you do..” he leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “What you need to do, to do that.”

“Maybe we should tell Sam first.” You bite your lip and he gets smirks, getting up to go to the door, “Hey Sam.”

“I already know.”

Colby closes the door and walks back over to you laughing, “Now that that’s out of the way.” He grabs your laptop, “Go clean up, I’ll get this uploaded to your computer.”

You smile, nodding your head as you get dressed to go to the bathroom.

When you get back, your clothes are back off and you’re in bed with Colby, “After we edit this.. I think you should film me going down on you.”

He nods his head, “Oh absolutely.”

——

It’s been two months since you uploaded that first video, you made it a pay to see vide, which gave you and Colby, and even Sam, a little bit of time before news leaked into the fandom.

After that. Wildfire.

All of your social media comment sections have been flooded with questions, comments, and of course, concerns.

Is that really Colby on y/n’s onlyfans?

Colby and y/n???!?!!!!?

COLBY FUCKIN BROCK WTF

I mean, idk who I’m more jealous of really.

I’m actually kind of shocked ngl

WAIT HOLD ON.. Y/N AND COLBY!?

No because get it girl. For real, and get it Colby damn

You and Colby would spend nights just laughing at the comments and of course discussing the rude ones with each other, but it mainly ends up in having sex.

Colby finding out was probably the best thing that could have happened in the situation, if you knew he would have been down to help you, you would have asked him a while ago.

You made so much money in the first two months, you guys basically spoiled Sam by taking him away to different cities around the world as an apology for him having to sit through filming sometimes, he was like your little sugar baby.

Right now, you were in Italy. You and Colby went back to the hotel to get ready for dinner when Colby’s laugh catches your attention.

You lift your head, arms still rested on the banister of the balcony, “What’s up, babe?” Colby leans against the doorway and looks up at you, “Have you read the comments on the post you posted today?”

You shake your head, reaching out as he hands you his phone. Your lips turn into a smirk as your eyes scan over the screen.

You can’t tell me Sam ain’t hitting it too

Ngl, they’d make a hot thruple

I want to be y/n when I grow up

You hand Colby back his phone and you ride your brows, “What? You want to give them what they’re asking for?”

“It’s whatever you want, baby. You’re calling the shots.”

You purse your lips, bringing your glass of wine up to take a sip as you think, “You think he’d go for it?”

Colby scoffs, “Please. You should have seen the look on his face when you seen your tits through that lace top. You’re not living with us both for no reason.” He smirks, “I’ll tell him to come up here.”

You walk over, biting down on your lip as you grip his bicep, “Wait, until dinner. I want to ask him myself.”

——

Thank you so much for reading, I hope it was good! Let me know and as always, I love you so much! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two Three

Dustin looks squirrely, which is as weird as it is nerve wracking for Steve. When Dustin looks squirrely it’s usually shit like he’s keeping a baby fucking demo dog as a pet.

Which Steve just...doesn’t want to deal with it any more. He’s had enough. He needs Dustin to have normal kid shit problems, not apocalyptic ones.

So Steve is, silently, praying to whoever will listen that Dustin wants, like, the sex talk or something, and not that there’s an inter-dimensional creature with a taste for nougat in Hawkins.

“Eddie says he’s okay.”

Which, Steve just kind of shrugs, because it’s the same message Dustin’s been bringing back for months. Nancy and Robin have stopped to listen too. John and Argyle have gone on a snack run and the rest of the kids are outside; so this feels kind of worryingly tactical on Dustin’s part that he’s telling a very select group this information.

“I’m pretty sure he isn’t, though.”

“Okkkayyyy...tell us what’s going on,” Robin leans against the counter, and Steve is so glad Dustin chose to do this with the girls here.

“Well,” and Dustin looks squirrely again and Steve figures he...he thinks he must be betraying Eddie, or something, “I thought he was, at first, you know? He was planning campaigns and writing music and just seemed to be...you know. Normal.”

“But…”

“Well he...the last few times I’ve been there he...he hasn’t gotten out of bed and,” Dustin wrinkles his nose, ready for the big betrayal, “there’s always a lot of empty like, beer cans and stuff and...he smells kind of. Bad.”

The girls looks at each other before Nancy finally says, “we will go and see him, don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”

Steve watches as Dustin relaxes, and realizes for the first time that this was, probably, way over Dustin’s pay grade, emotionally speaking. They are the adults, and dealing with someone who...well, it’s got to be depression, right? Eddie was never okay, he was faking to start with. Even Steve can figure that out from what Dustin’s just said. Just because they’ve dealt with alternate dimensions and world ending monsters, it doesn’t mean that Dustin is equipped to deal with shit like this – yeah, definitely heavy stuff for a kid. And Eddie, would Eddie have been able to fake it if say the girls, or Steve, had gone over? Would they have noticed a problem that Dustin just, didn’t? Because for all they’ve been through, they’re still just kids. Dustin might not have noticed that Eddie was dragging himself out of bed and cleaning up just for the one or two hours a week that Dustin was stopping by.

But Robin would have...and Nancy definitely would have.

And now Eddie doesn’t have the energy to just...fake it any more, simple as.

This is heavy shit, too heavy for Dustin to have to deal with.

And that’s how Steve ends up ferrying the girls to the brand new Munson trailer, right at the other end of the park from where the old one was. Nancy’s in full investigative reporter mode, Steve can sense it. Luckily, Robin goes first, " we shouldn't have left him this long."

Nancy hums in agreement.

The doors not locked and no one answers, so they all end up spilling unceremoniously into the bedroom.

Dustin was being kind; it reeks of stale cigarettes and sweat. He was being nice about the beer cans too; it’s not just beer cans, worryingly there’s also empty vodka bottles and even a couple of wine bottles in the mix.

This is not something that has happened recently; this has been going on for months.

The place is a mess. Like a can’t even see the floor kind of mess.

In the middle of his visibly dirty bedding, Eddie snores on, oblivious.

“Steve, you get him in the shower, Robin and I will clean this up.”

Steve’s dubious, but he shakes Eddie’s shoulder gently. Nothing.

He tries again, firmer this time, and Eddie comes awake with an undignified snort and hands flapping at Steve’s, trying to get the movement to stop.

Steve can hear the girls rummaging out in the kitchen, looking for trash bags and rubber gloves, maybe a box for the bottles.

Maybe two boxes.

Steve shakes him again, “Eddie come on.”

Eddie does blink up at him then, clearly groggy and confused, but he smiles. Smiles so big and happy, he grasps one of Steve’s hands now, rather than trying to push it away, still smiling, he pulls it up to his mouth and kisses Steve’s knuckles softly.

Steve doesn’t know what his face is doing, but Eddie’s frowning, something like realization dawns on Eddie’s face, and then throwing Steve’s hand away like it’s burning him. Eddie moves quick, scrambling to the edge of the bed and leaning over it, and Steve realizes what’s about to happen a second too late; Eddie starts to throw up just as Steve moves, so his sneakers do get splattered a little bit.

Which...Steve’s probably trudged through worse, realistically speaking. There’s not really anything Steve can do about it now, so he gingerly sidesteps the splatter of vomit and, briefly, feels really sorry for the girls, “come on Munson, up.”

Eddie grumbles nonsensically, but does allow Steve to heave him up, his head lolling, still clearly very drunk. Eddie doesn’t put up much of a fight when Steve strips him; made easy by the fact that he’s wearing a stained tee shirt and dirty boxers that Steve abandons in a smelly pile on the bathroom floor.

He’s too thin; far too thin. Barely any weight at all on Steve’s arm, ribs all knobbly and skin stretched strangely over his joints.

Eddie slides to the floor under the warm water and Steve, not wanting to get any damper, makes no effort to stop him. At least sitting on the floor he’s safe; he can’t fall any further. Steve vaguely recalls something about little kids being able to drown in an inch of water, and keeps half an eye on Eddie as he digs around for toiletries.

He finds a sad bar of soap and shudders, but it’ll do. Steve gives Eddie the most perfunctory scrub down ever, doing his best not to look at or be aware of any part of Eddie’s body as he flicks the cloth over it.

The towel that’s hanging up looks dubious, but better than nothing.

Eddie’s showing no sign of rousing; Steve has no idea if he’s just...really really drunk still, or if he’s hiding. Steve’s brain prods at what he saw; Eddie’s reaction to him.

There’s one logical conclusion that he’s trying his best to avoid. Unfortunately, no matter how he angles it...his conclusion remains the same. There’s one obvious answer. Eddie looks like a sad drowned rat under the water, and Steve shuts it off, covering him with the one sad towel.

Eddie shivers without the heat of the water, and Steve tries not to feel guilty. This isn’t his fault. He’s not...if Eddie had a Steve, he’s not him. He didn’t, die, or anything. It’s a bit of a headfuck, and thankfully Robin interrupts by shoving the door open far enough to press through a bundle of clothes; black sleep pants and a hoodie, but better than nothing, “there’s no clean clothes, it’s the best we could find,” she whispers.

Which, okay, they’re kind of musty, but at least not obviously dirty.

Eddie huffs through Steve pulling his clothes on, standing awkwardly as Steve pulls his pants up like you would with a little kid.

Steve dumps him on the couch; immediately feeling bad about the whole thing. Guilt, maybe, but he pushes that away harshly because this isn’t Steve’s fault. It’s no one’s fault.

Well, except for the labs and then One. But there’s no one here to blame and it’s...ridiculous that Steve would feel bad about it.

This isn’t the time. Eddie’s passed out again, so Steve gets a glass of water from the kitchen, leaving it on the table where Eddie will find it, before he goes to help the girls.

“We absolutely cannot leave him here.”

“No, agreed, being alone is not good for him.”

“He’s not alone,” Steve protests, “Wayne’s here.”

“And Wayne works twelve hour nights six days a week and has done nothing about this so far,” Nancy replies, brooking no argument, “we’ll take him to yours, he needs to dry out.”

“Mine?” Steve squeaks, “look, uhm, maybe not mine-”

“Why not yours?” Robin cuts him off, “you have the space, and no one else around. I can come and stay, help you keep an eye on him.”

And although all of that is true, Steve doesn’t know how to tell them what he’s just figured out, and having Eddie in his house feels...awkward as fuck.

Eddie’s like a zombie out of one of his games. He has to be encouraged out of bed, Robin putting herself to the task, and that takes a good hour on the really bad days. He picks at toast. He picks at eggs. He picks at whatever's put in front of him.

He doesn’t fight it when they take the spirits away, he doesn’t fight it when he’s allocated three beers a day; he never looks for more. He doesn’t fight anything. He’s broken. So broken Steve has no idea what to do about it. The kids come and go, maintaining conversation around Eddie that Eddie will vaguely engage with whenever one of the kids addresses him directly.

Otherwise he sits there, inert. The kids talk about school and their nerd games and all that normal stuff, and then they leave again.

Sometimes it’s just Eddie and Steve in the house, and that's enough to make Steve want to throw himself into the lake; Eddie’s presence is uncomfortable, and Steve immediately feels guilt every time he feels like that.

Eddie saved their lives. Eddie fought off actual mind control and took out One like it was nothing. Eddie saved the world, at great fucking sacrifice to himself, and Steve feels like a total dipshit every time he has to remind himself of it.

He has to do something for Eddie. He has to try and get through to him somehow.

He has an idea, and when he tells Robin he’s going out for a bit, she doesn’t question it.

Steve delivers Wayne an update when he picks up Eddie’s records. Wayne seems like a good guy, even though he’s completely out of his depth with Eddie, he seems to be able to roll with the punches. He believes the kids want what’s best for Eddie, and that seems to be enough for him for now.

Eddie’s lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling, seeing nothing.

Steve picks one of his records at random, ‘Holy Diver. Dio,’ and puts it on the record player on low. He has Eddie’s guitar too, his notebooks, the rule books from his dumb game. Steve brings it all in in bits and pieces and leaves it on the coffee table. He leans Eddie’s guitar against the end of the couch.

By the time he’s finished, Eddie seems more alert; is actually watching Steve. Steve gives him a nod, and leaves him to it.

It changes something. Something undefinable. Eddie seems to be...making an effort. Robin says she thinks he’s coming around; remembering how to be a person. She thinks he’s making a good first step. He still drinks three beers a day, but they’re pretty much the weakest ones available and Steve thinks he’s doing it more out of habit than anything. There’s no other alcohol in the house.

What Steve thinks he knows has been gnawing at him too. Bothering his insides. He understands the girls logic; this is probably the best place for Eddie to be, but given what Steve thinks he’s figured out, this might also be the absolute worst place for Eddie to be.

He feels like he’s haunting him; the dead love of Eddie’s life, following him around every single day. Steve can’t even imagine what that’s like; Eddie even just having to look at him must hurt. Other questions always follow, like, why Steve? Was it random? Eddie must be gay, right?

Was Steve just the easiest one for Eddie’s brain to summon up in the moment? Or was there something else there, feelings that were easy to manipulate? Was there a reason it was Steve, or not?

He could spend hours chasing the thoughts if he let himself. Instead he makes himself and Eddie something to eat, a couple of sandwiches, and then takes them through. He sits, eating his own, and watching as Eddie nibbles on his. Things have moved; even as Steve watches, Eddie puts down the sandwich and scribbles in his notebook.

Steve’s just getting up to leave when he stops at the sound of Eddie clearing his throat, he still won’t look at Steve when he speaks, “thanks, uhm, for getting my stuff.”

It’s been a while since Eddie has spoken to Steve directly, and Steve hesitates a second, feeling like this is his chance to try and...he doesn’t know. Say something meaningful. Fix Eddie, somehow, say the exact right thing to make it better, eventually he just says, “no problem, man.”

Eddie nods, Steve waits in case there's more, but there doesn’t seem to be. He makes it to the kitchen door before Eddie speaks again, “you guys, you’ve probably saved my life.”

He is looking up as Steve now, chewing on the end of his pencil nervously, “you saved ours first,” Steve tells him.

Eddie huffs out the smallest, driest laugh, “didn’t realize it was a competition, Harrington.”

Steve leaves him to it, it’s not much, but it’s a start.

“You had a kid, right? Tell me about them?” It’s a push Steve knows. Their brief conversations turning into the occasional ten minutes on the deck when they both go out for a cigarette might have become regular, but they’re by no means secure. Steve might be about to bring the whole fragile thing down, but he needs to know. It’s eating him alive.

Eddie just shakes his head, ‘no.’ and sips at the beer he has. A beer Steve is pretty sure Eddie should not have, even if it is only a psychological thing, at this point, but Robin continues to be adamant that Eddie going completely cold turkey would be a really bad idea, so Eddie continues to have an allowance.

‘Well, fuck it,’ Steve thinks, ‘might as well try it,’ “come on, they were ours, right?”

Eddie snorts, “she was always more like you than-” he stops, cutting himself off. But it’s all the confirmation Steve needs.

Eddie looks at him then, horrified, before scrambling up.

“Eddie, stop, it’s okay-” Steve tries.

“Fuck you Harrington,” Eddie growls at him with more emotion than Steve's seen in Eddie since the whole thing happened, and then throws the beer bottle, not at Steve, exactly, but close enough that broken glass scatters around his shoe, beer smattering the patio slabs and the smell of it rising to fill Steve’s nose almost immediately.

Eddie stomps into the house, and Steve can hear Robin asking what happened, clearly concerned; she must have heard the bottle smash, “I cannot stay here with him,” Eddie spits, before the moment passes.

Robin comes out a moment later, “Nancy’s with him, what the fuck just happened?”

Steve’s a little stunned by the confirmation and then the close run in with the beer bottle, but regardless he wouldn’t hide this from Robin, “it was me, Robs. The...Eddie’s wife? I guess, not a wife, me.”

@autumncrocusandladybug @duckyreads @neonfruitbowl @slv-333 @starlight-archer @skys-archive @justdreamersdream @moomkin77 @prazinos @dragonmama76 @lingeringmirth @darkwitchoferie @weirdandabsurd42 @zoeweee @thennic @xiaq @tinyplanet95 @steddieyourself @chrystal-lovee @futuristicunknown86 @grtwdsmwhr @mugloversonly @wonderland-girl143-blog @a-little-unsteddie @marvel-ous-m @ajeff855 @gutterflower77 @thedragonsaunt @xxbottlecapx @hairdryerducks @catateme9 @gleek4twd @jaytriesstrangerthings @rovia2323 @carlajim98 @stevesbipanic @steddiecameraroll @thermofisherscientific @ninjapirateunicorns @whenindoubtb72 @dreamwatch @spectrum-spectre @eddiethehunted @sticknpokelightningbolt @kittycatcrackhead @hawkinshighflunkee @plasticcrotches @metalmunson @rosered93 @p0lybl4nkk @bluexvelvet @nicememerino @semi-precious-stoner @persnicketysquares @bj-freeplay @practicallybegging @yesdangerpls @cryptid-system @nadineseaday @platinum-sunset @bookworm0690 @clockworkballerina

[maxwellatoms]

I bought a Gartenmeister Fuchsia plant for my birthday back in January. It was a centerpiece all winter long, but recently it started looking a bit sickly. I'm not a "green" gerdener anymore (haha), but I am also by no means a master. I think it was infected with powdery mildew, but I also convinced myself it was spider mites. I try to keep things all -natural out there, so I dried it out and sprayed it with some neem oil after pruning it back a bit. I really should've pruned off all of the infected bits, but I didn't want to lose the flowers.

I did that a few more times, unable to commit to a hard prune because I kept telling myself "I don't know what I'm doing, so maybe it's not sick. Maybe it'll fix itself. Sure would be nice to have those flowers back." I finally gave up and cut it to the bone yesterday, but yesterday was too late. I had to remove every single leaf because I dithered for too long. It's probably not going to make it.

I feel the same way about our culture. US culture. Western culture (though its really a global problem). The Entertainment Industry. The Media. It's sick. We probably need some rather serious surgery to fix the problem, but we just will not see a doctor. To see a doctor would be to admit there's a problem, and for some that is the greatest sin of the 21st Century. Maybe some of us are just hoping the system will recover on its own so we can have our pretty flowers back.

For me, it was around 2010 or so when I first started to smell something "off". The symptoms had certainly been around a while. This was just when I noticed. This was when I got my first, "Hey, let's not make fun of corporations" note. It's when The History Channel stopped airing stuff about history in favor of aliens because that's where the money was. And rather than rebranding, they just left it as "History", encouraging future generations to believe whatever they felt like. This was also about when traditional news outlets started skewing to clickbait in order to compete with sites that were clearly 100% not legitimate news sites. Again, as long as the money is right it's "just entertainment" and you' can're welcome to believe it if it means you'll watch more.

I'm all-in on Dead Internet Theory now. The disparity between what major news media outlets will report and what you see from actual people on Tumblr or Threads or Reddit is pretty shocking. And those sites are already compromised by bots and bad actors. The tools exist now to actively bamboozle millions of people, and I have no doubt we're already seeing some of this now. In six months or a year you'll find out it (whatever it was) never happened or was generated by an LLM. The time to stop listening to anyone online was a year ago.

Trust no one.

Not even me!

It's cultural rot. It's spreading faster and faster, and I'm not sure what happens when we get to the end of this ride. Actually, I AM sure what happens. If we don't prune back hard now, then the rot takes over. Best-case, you clip the infected branches off too late and it takes years to recover. Worst case? Nature soldiers on but the plant succumbs to infection and dies completely, replaced (eventually) by something that can actually hack it in that spot.

When humans produce art and information, and then comment on that art and information by producing more art and information, we call it "culture". We're moving toward a time when the vast majority of art and ideas we get out eyes on won't be created by humans. Or at the very least won't be created with the purpose of commenting on or enriching the organic human experience. When that happens, what will we call it? What will remain of our culture?

[goquokka00]

The Little Things (Jeongin Ver.)

The small things he does every day that make you feel oh, so special.

Bangchan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin Jisung | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

|Helps You Dress |

We're all probably aware that Jeongin is extremely well dressed. Hell, even the other members have clarified that sometimes they go to Jeongin for fashion opinions and advice. And a lot of times, you do the same. Either that, or Jeongin will offer help if he sees you're struggling.

Jeongin will go to your closet with you and look through your clothes to try and find something that'll fit what you're aiming for. If it's for a study session at the library, he'll find a comfier set of clothes for it. If it's for a family gathering at a fancy restaurant, he'll make sure you look phenomenal. If it's for a double date with you and Jeongin and a friend and her significant other, he'll make sure that both of you are matching outfits.

I also think that sometimes, Jeongin will dress you in his own clothing, too. Not all the time, just whenever you're going to something you're not really looking forward to or will just be lounging around the house with him. Jeongin loves his clothes, yes, but he loves them even more when they're on you.

| Comes For Cuddles |

Jeongin isn't one for cuddles. We all know this. If his members try to hug and coddle him, he always tries to maneuver out of it. And I think for the most part, Jeongin wouldn't really want to cuddle you a whole lot either at first, just because it's who he is. It doesn't mean he doesn't love you, it's just a Jeongin thing.

However, there are definitely going to be moments when Jeongin will want cuddles, and will come to you for them. You stopped going to him for them, because he was always super reluctant, and figured if he wanted them, he'd come. And he did. Usually, it's when he's had a rough patch at work or is just straight exhausted. He'll come over to you and lay on top of you, resting his head on your chest and nuzzling you while hugging your torso, humming at the soft scratches you give his head.

I also firmly stand by the belief that Jeongin will do this around the other Kids, too. Literally for no other reason than to make them all upset and jealous because you're getting all of these Jeongin cuddles and kisses and affection and they're not. They'll definitely grumble about it, all while Jeongin has this smug look on his face. He just finds pleasure in making his Hyungs upset.

| Video Games |

After watching Jeongin play Among Us on Chan's computer, I think that you and he would play a LOT of video games together. Anything from on the Nintendo Switch to a Playstation, even on a laptop, the two of you would play plenty of games, sometimes even with certain things on the line. Stuff like, "Loser has to do dishes", or "If I win, you have to give me a back massage."

The competitive play would definitely be a thing, but I also think you guys would have a lot of Co-op games that you guys would play, too. Things like Bread and Fred, Among Us (if one of you isn't on a different side), It Takes Two, things like that.

I also think that y'all would 100% play games like Animal Crossing or Minecraft. You and Jeongin work way too hard on your world/islands, and always have to run ideas by each other. Those games are also great ways to stay in contact when Jeongin's on tour. Sure, a Stray Kid besides Jeongin will sometimes join your Minecraft server, but Jeongin usually kills them as punishment for joining his server that was specifically for him and his love.

| Misunderstandings |

If you're someone who's soft spoken, I feel like misunderstandings would happen a lot. Even if you weren't soft spoken, I feel like this would still happen. A lot. More or less, it's literally just Jeongin only half-listening, and hearing you say something completely different than what was actually said.

Other times, it might just be that you as him to do something, and he hears what you say, but he thinks of it in a completely different way than what you meant. "I thought you wanted me to fill the printer! I did!" "Yeah, with ink!" "And I did that!" "Jeongin, printer ink!" "...oh."

I don't think that you'd ever get mad at him though, mainly because if he does end up slipping up big time, he'll buy whatever he broke or take the time to actually do what you asked, and then will proceed to apologize profusely while cuddling you because he feels really, really, REALLY bad.

| At-Home Facials |

Honestly, because all of the guys are into facials, I think this could happen with any of them. But for whatever reason, I could see this being a Jeongin thing the most. Whether you're the one pestering him that you wanna do a facial together, or if he's the one pestering, it happens a lot.

Sometimes, it's just the two of you wearing face masks while eating instant noodles and watching TV. And that's always fun, and Jeongin really enjoyed those. You do too, because it's cheap and doesn't take a whole lot of effort to complete. Not to mention that you two always got to cuddle up on the couch.

Other times, you and Jeongin go all out. Doing multiple masks, placing cucumbers on the eyes, steaming faces with hot towels, massaging faces (and Jeongin squishing your cheeks while commenting on how cute you are), all of it. Jeongin will usually buy all of the supplies, because going out is his idea. But you two do end up feeling awesome after.

Hey! Firstly, thank you so much for reading this post, and I really hope you enjoyed! If you did, please like, reblog, or comment so I can see how I'm doing with writing and getting feedback! I hope you have a lovely day! Sleep well, stay in good health, and eat something if you haven't! ❤️❤️❤️

[darylbae]

hiii, could you write something fluff with vamp daryl and a fem reader that really likes to stay in the sun? and even tho daryl cant stay for long in the sun he likes watching her enjoy herself for afar💕😭 sorry for the bad writting english is not my firt language

my girl and her garden — daryl dixon🩰

in which vamp!daryl just loves to watch you in the sun

note: i dont have a specific kind of vampire in mind when i write this, so none of my vamp!daryl stuff is really the same.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

It never took long for you to understand what Daryl was. You'd grown suspicious long before he'd admitted it to you, noticing he'd never eat around you and would always go out to find his own food. He'd find reasons to stay inside if he could, not that sunlight burned him alive, but too much of it was harmful. It terrified him when he finally told you, worrying he'd be go back to being alone again. He didn't want to, but he enjoyed your company, he enjoyed waking up and working around you, surviving with you. So now the pair of you were stuck together. Of course, you had a lot of questions. "Will you outlive me?" "Will you stay the same forever?" "Will you get sick of me and eat me?" And he answered them all however he could. Daryl loved how different you were to him. He found comfort in staying inside, keeping to himself, and that had all changed when he'd met you. You loved being outside. You loved the sun kissing your skin, you loved gardening and doing everything you could outside. The cabin the two of you shared was fenced in and kept safe, thanks to Daryl. And had a lovely open area of grass, you'd even built flowerbeds, to plant and watch over your food. Even as it had been raining a lot, you enjoyed at least being on your porch, watching your crops flourish in the rain, listening to the heavy thrum of the rain against the leaves and trees surrounding you. It had finally starting to shine again outside and you almost leaped out of bed to get some UV on your skin. Skipping coffee and breakfast, you'd put on a summer dress you'd kept over the years, and off you went. The sun was beaming down onto your skin, onto your plants, fruits, and vegetables. You couldn't be happier as you bent down to admire the growing strawberries. Daryl had only just rolled out of bed, feeling the vacant space beside him and worrying. Only to see the door to your cabin open, and could hear your sweet voice humming quietly in the distance. He'd poured himself a coffee, standing at the door frame and fishing into his pocket for a smoke. He could do this for hours, he could make a profession out of this. Watching you, studying you, the way you smile at every bit of progress your garden was making. If he were to eventually die, this is what his Heaven would be. You looked up, to see the moody shadow at the door frame and smiled sweetly at him, lifting a hand to wave. He'd returned the gesture, flapping his fingers at you and inhaling deeply on his cigarette. You'd leaped up from your squatting position, running excitedly up to Daryl to show him your work. "Dar! Look!" He stubbed his cigarette against the wall of the cabin, not wanting to blow smoke around you. "What is it, honey?" You lifted the strawberry, a large, deep red, juicy looking one, and held it up to his face. "I know it's not to your taste, but try it! Look how amazing it's grown!" You held it to his lips and he'd taken a bite, holding your gaze almost seductively. You wanted to drag him to bed and show him a good morning. But there were more exciting matters at hand, like your marvelous strawberry. "That's amazing. Well done, my girl." He cooed, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you into him. Your stomach tightened quickly at the praise, and you'd accepting the affection from him. Daryl always knew how to make you feel special. "Better get back out there!" You hurried back outside, after handing him the rest of the strawberry, and got back to work. Daryl stayed where he was, comfortably inside and had the perfect view of you. The sun lighting up your skin, making you glow as if an Angel had come and roamed the Earth. A small part of Daryl resented what he was, it limited what he could do, especially with you. If he could, he'd eat, sleep, bathe, and make love under the sun with you. He wanted to enjoy it as you did, but he was content with watching you for now.

[corvidcrossbow]

would you maybe write some daryl fluff? maybe reader is carols adopted daughter (20ish years old)

daryl comforting reader after henry and how carol acted in the tunnel? maybe r sees carol taking pills n stuff. idk just daryl maybe talking to carol “what about her? henry’s gone but she’s still here!” just daryl sticking up for reader and hugging her n looking after her while carols off.

~•♡•~ What One Has

➳ Summary: Following the Savior war, Carol took you and Henry in as her adoptive children. But through the events of the Whisperer war, your relationship with her became sort of estranged; at least you had Daryl looking out for you (Daryl + Fem!Reader)

➳ Setting: Post Whisperer war, around 10x18 + 10x21

➳ Word count: 1.9k

➳ C/W: Mentions of pike scene

➳ A/N: Ima be so fr, I struggled writing this, I think because I wasn't quite sure what direction I wanted to go but I needa stop sittin on this n I hope you like it nonetheless anon 😭🫶 Hopefully now that opening day at my job has passed I can refocus on writing (and hopefully we never have a day like that ever again cuz someone dropping and coding in front of me was not in any of my expectations 🗿)

Daryl groaned an exhale and shifted in his blankets, rolling over onto his back with a clenched fist resting on his forehead. Darkness shrouded his room in the basement, Dog curled up close to him no matter how many times he tried to ward the canine off from dirtying the plush couch by sleeping on it too.

Despite the threat of the Whisperers eliminated, and what he could only hope would be some time for rest, he didn't rest. Sleeping never proved easier no matter how many times a conflict was eased: he knew more would always follow. Especially now, where the repercussions of Alpha and her actions were so grave it shook foundations he'd prayed would stay stable.

The archer threw back his covers, picking himself from the makeshift bed and finding a shirt he'd earlier thrown aside, and a pack of cigarettes set on the edge of his workbench. He tisked at Dog, instructing him to stay while he quietly existed from the cellar, carefully ascended the stairs and opened the front door to head outside and smoke.

Closing it and throwing his head back to clear the messied hair from his face, he paused at the figure already occupying the right side of the steps. In the faint glow of moonlight, he recognized you despite your hunched posture, seemingly trying to obscure yourself.

“Why ya out ‘ere?”

“Same reason you are.”

It was a rhetorical question, really. He knew why, who this was about. It wasn't the first time he'd found you awake in the night as he was, having become an increasing commonality over the past 10 months since you moved here, and increasingly concerning.

Daryl stuffed the pack away in his pocket, coming to sit near you on the opposite end of the step, propping his elbows on his thighs. “Ya won’ talk ‘bout it?”

“It's not really gonna make a difference,” You replied, head bowed to stare at the wooden planks in front of you, twisting a loose thread you'd plucked from your jeans between your fingers.

“Could. Least yer not carryin’ it by yerself,” He tried to persuade you. Although he was guilty of doing it himself, his conscience didn't sit well with knowing those close to him were lost in their own minds like he so often was. Especially you, who he not only cared about, but had cared for. “C'mon, ‘m listening.”

You heaved an uneasy sigh, reluctantly accepting that he was right. He felt like the only person you had at this point. “I miss her.”

Daryl's head turned a bit so his gaze could flick to you then shifted back, nodding – more to himself – understandingly.

“And it's so weird because she's, what… 30 feet away from me right now? Maybe less? But she feels even further than she did when she just up and left to go on that boat.” You paused for a moment, coaching yourself through your breaths and not allowing them to grow erratic. “I thought, maybe after everything at the tower, she'd warm back up to me again. But I feel like the… thing, wore her raw, and then the blizzard froze her so solid she won't thaw back out.”

The man stayed silent, taking in your every word but knowing to speak now would halt the tracing of your thoughts; hinder you from fully opening up.

“Does she think because I'm grown it doesn't have a major effect on me? Henry wasn't just her son, he was like my brother. Families are supposed to be there for each other when you lose someone– and, and then I almost lost her too. I mean, you remember all the pills; how she never left her room. I could hear her some nights, just talking to herself. She was talking to something that wasn't real more than she talked to me!”

Now you were struggling, that choking feeling tightened around your throat and broke some of your words, mask slipping as the weight of everything started to collapse in on you just like– “And the cave. I… I'd never been more scared in my life, being in there with you guys. There's so many times I thought I was gonna die but nothing scared me like that. I still hear all the walkers sometimes, how she screamed, the sound of that dynamite going off. I still feel like I'm coated in dust just–... What was she thinking? I was right next to her. It's like I was invisible, or erased from her memory, and all she remembers is Henry.”

Daryl pulled you to him before you'd even realized you were crying, holding your stiff body against his, and through a few sobs, feeling you relax and give in. His strong arm wrapped around you was the most secure you'd felt in a long time.

“Shhh… s'alrigh’. ‘M ‘ere.” Soothing words were few and simple, but they were what you needed; the reminder that someone saw you, remembered you, and took account for your feelings in all of this.

You scooted closer to him, further tucking your head into his chest as if you were trying to finally find a moment of peace by escaping into his embrace. Daryl rubbed his palm over your shoulder, doing nothing but just being there for you.

A moment passed and you recomposed yourself to some extent, shuffling away with a sniffle while he loosened the hug. His eyes caught yours for just a second, seeing so much of himself reflected in your irises.

“Sorry, didn't mean to…” You trailed off while rubbing your face with the back of your hand, ridding the salty streaks from your skin and gesturing. You turned away, embarrassed from your venting and finding it hard to face him.

“Don't. Whole point'ah talkin’ is so ya ain't bottlin’ allat to yerself.” He quieted again, casting his gaze to you then up to the sky as he fidgeted with his hands. “Had a brother too; from before. Was an asshole, but still ma brother.”

You perked up a little, following his line of sight to the black above you. “What happened?..”

“Wa'salways gettin’ stuck with tha wrong people; last time jus’ cost ‘em. Happened bouta year into this; had tah put ‘em down mahself.”

“I'm sorry…” You swallowed and unsurely nibbled on the gummy flesh of your cheek. Was there ever really a right way to respond to that kind of thing?

“Ts'fine, long time ago. Point is I get how it is tah lose family like tha’, ‘nd ‘ll always listen when ya need it. Ya got me.”

“Thank you… for everything; bein’ there every time you already have. I really appreciate it, Daryl.” Truthfully, you'd flat out needed it. He'd remained a constant when all else altered. “I just don't know what to do anymore. Dad's been so distant too, and if I'm gonna lose him to cancer... I'll need her there for that.”

You licked your lips, taking a shaky inhale and biting your tongue a bit. “Sometimes I feel like all she sees when she looks at me is my head on a pike too.”

Daryl's jaw tensed, fearing you'd confess something like that. “‘Ll talk to ‘er.”

“No, you don't have to do that. I know you two are already–”

“Nah. ‘M gonna. Ya shouldn't ever think somethin’ like tha’. She still cares ‘bout ya: ts'jus’ hard for ‘er, been through a lot.” He gave a gentle squeeze to your shoulder before removing his hand. “She loves ya. Get sum rest.”

You nodded faintly, taking another breath to gather yourself and lifting from the spot to retreat inside, leaving the man to his own solemn nature.

❥-》》—————➣

Daryl often wondered if some things were worth it, this included; begrudgingly agreeing to let Carol tag along with him on what was meant to be a hunt, yet tracing paths back to that long abandoned cabin he would've preferred to add ‘forgotten’ in the title of.

He damned Dog for leading him back there, but figured something was going to push out the full story regarding how he spent all those years in the forest – and at least it opened the conversation for more important ones that needed to be had.

It wasn't ideal; borderline arguing with the woman he'd so casually dubbed his ‘best friend’, who'd been there when he needed her and vice versa. It hurt, but it wasn't all she hurt him for, and he was far from the only one she did.

“I'm sorry for Connie,” She spoke, head bowed and pursing her lips to shove back the tears that gathered in her waterlines. “But I'm not sorry for going after the horde and I'm not sorry for making Alpha pay for killing Henry because I was right.”

“‘Nd tha's all tha’ matters; you bein’ right, huh?” Daryl angled to look at her, keeping his forearm braced against the wooden post. She questioned the depth of his motivations, and he shook his head disapprovingly.

“Ts'ain't all about ‘em, ‘ts barely ‘bout me. ‘Ts ‘bout'cher damn kid; tha one ya still got.” They met eyes for a moment before hers shot away, shamefully avoiding the confrontation. “Ya think ‘bout ‘er in all this? Tha’ what you lost, she lost too? Ya know feels like she lost you? Tha’ she don’ sleep much anymore, misses you like yer already gone, ‘cause ya might as well be … Ya still have ‘er, ‘ts sum’thin’ we can't say fer a lotta people, so quit actin’ like ya don't.”

A painful silence settled, clawing at the both of them as he pivoted away and focused out the dirtied glass plane ahead of him. The archer bit back further words, part of him regretting the harshness of such even though it felt required.

“Ya shouldn'tah come.”; brought Carol's sharper attention back, sparking meaner accusations and disclosures between them – predominantly on Daryl's part – regarding their situations.

She turned around, drifting fingertips over the structuring of the cabin's foundation and sniffling before muttering a few things more and trailing into the other room.

Tension hung heavy enough to keep it mostly quiet, even as they later parted ways while returning to Alexandria, forced through seeming trials; Daryl with his motorcycle, and Carol while attempting to cook.

Once he finally got that damn bike working and rode home, he stifled a chuckle at how the silver-haired woman stood there, disheveled appearance matching his own. The man appreciatively declined her offer for soup, exhausted from his troubles and preferring to just go lay down with Dog.

He followed the shepherd round the house to enter through the front door, watching the cheerful wagging of his tail as he padded across the hardwood and down steps to the basement.

Daryl readjusted his crossbows strap around his shoulder, brushing back his hair before descending. He picked up Carol's voice in the distance, sequenced by yours, and paused to shift his vision for just a quick glance; you perched against the kitchen counter, bowls on the surface, and for the first time in a while, a genuine smile on your face as the older woman came up beside you.

His own tugged the slightest bit at one side of his mouth, satisfied with the apparent reconnecting. He continued his action, setting his things down in his room before partially undressing and flopping back on that couch.

Even if his relationship with Carol remained rocky, granting some stability to yours was enough for him. That was worth it.

©corvidcrossbow 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified or adapted to other platforms. My work may be translated only if asked and with proof of given consent.

[saylor-twift]

Your Needs, My Needs

As much as I’d like to post this fic here, I’m a little nervous because it does contain smut, so I will be keeping it to Ao3. If that bugs you, simply block me and scroll away! I will not be offended. I will be posting the link to the Ao3 here as well as a little preview of what the fic entails.

word count: 9.1k

warnings: smut (not violent or kinky or anything, i don’t fw that stuff sorry), tiiiny but of cursing, probably ooc Wanderer lol

summary: Hat Guy is having a hard time with accepting his new life and himself as a person, to the point it’s driven a bit of a wedge into his relationship. Luckily, fate has given him someone who is willing to listen and be there for him despite all the rough edges

notes: Wanderer is called Kunimitsu bc that’s what I named him!

♡ Your Needs, My Needs Ao3

masterlist w/ other stuff!

preview!! (not smut here don’t worry)

“Just because you have not experienced something yet does not mean it is out of reach or nonexistent. It does not matter what you have been taught, or what you believe, because it is false. You are not just a tool, or a vessel, or a machine… you have a soul. You can love, you can grieve, you can feel. You are a person, Kunimitsu, whether you like it or not. And one that I truly love.” Your words come straight from the heart, and no amount of contradiction from him could ever make you doubt how you feel. He blinks, surprised by the sudden intensity of your words. A direct contrast to the tenderness of how you spoke to him before. He is quiet for a moment before you hear his voice, hardly above a whisper. “Perhaps… you could be right. But I’m not saying I think you’re correct. It will take time, likely more than I could ask you to give, to unlearn my lifetime's worth of conditioning. I’m not sure I know how to be anything other than the puppet I was created to be.” He is so quiet now, so tender. His words aren’t sweet per say, but his body language speaks volumes. Your brows furrow together, almost as if they're trying to form a barricade to stop the tears that threaten to fall. “There is nothing wrong with learning to do something new.” you protest as your eyes glisten. The pad of his thumb wipes over your eye, urging it to close and disposing of the moisture before it even has a chance to fall down your skin. “There is no need for tears. I am not worth weeping over. I am just a doll, after all.” He says, and you almost laugh in disbelief. A tear escapes from the very same eye he had just wiped clean. “Did you not listen to a word I just said? Anyone I love is worth weeping over, and I’d do it a million times over if it could prove to you that you are not just an object, but a person, who… who I am in love with.”

(also side note, this is my first time ever writing something like this so i’m pretty nervous, i almost didn’t want to post it but it took me two and a half weeks to write so might as well 🤷‍♀️)

divider from @strangergraphics-archive !

[thosewickedlovelies]

it's where I belong

Summary: Rancher Boy!Javier Peña’s queer awakening

Tags: bisexual Javier Peña (although his identity is not explicitly stated); the bartender ships it; javier peña x OMC

Words: 1,937

Note: Title (and general inspo for this installment) is taken from the song Pink Pony Club by Chappell Roan. You don't have to read the rest of Rancher Boys for this to make sense, but you should bc it's great 😌 Happy pride :)

Masterlist

Once, Javier Peña walked into a bar in June.

It wasn’t that kind of bar. Or at least, he hadn’t thought it was. But looking around, he noticed a lot of people who seemed…sparkly, somehow. And affectionate. And there, on the back wall by the pool tables, hung a large, rainbow-striped flag, fluttering over the bricks.

“Can I get you anything?” A bartender appeared in his line of sight.

Javier tore his gaze from the flag.

“Whiskey, on the rocks.”

The bartender adjusted her cutoff flannel while the card machine booted up. It was tied beneath her chest, and the edges of a tattoo snaked along her ribs, the finer details blending into skin darker than Javi’s.

As Javi took out his card, he started, “Is this a…a bar for…”

Lord only knew what he thought he was trying to say. Thankfully, the bartender took pity on him. “A gay bar?”

“…Yeah.”

“Not explicitly. ‘We’re friendly to all’,” the woman quoted pointedly. She pushed a coaster toward him with that very declaration stamped beneath a depiction of a familiar sign. Friendly’s, read the green neon loops- the same as the ones above the door he’d entered through.

Ah.

“We just like to make sure everyone knows.” Her head tilted. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” Javier said.

After a beat, the bartender relaxed. “There’s not usually this much rainbow stuff in here. But we always go big for pride month.”

“Pride month?” Belatedly, Javi recalled the rainbow logos and merchandise that he’d noticed appearing over the past few days. Because it was…June? “Oh.”

The bartender had stepped back to dry some clean glasses. Now she smiled slightly, turning to face him. “You new in town?”

From a booth near the pool table, several voices rose in chorus with a soulful pop song playing from the speakers. Five sets of masculine shoulders swayed; they exhibited not a shred of self-consciousness. The bartender sent them a fond look.

“Temporarily. I’m here for a few weeks on business, with my pa.” Javi sipped his whiskey, the burn a warm, familiar comfort.

“Workin’ hard, then,” she deadpanned.

Before Javier could reply, her face softened, all her attention diverted to a second woman that had appeared beside him, leaning over the bar. Her black sequined top let out a spill of cleavage that Javi quickly averted his gaze from.

“Hola, mi amor,” the second woman cooed.

“Hola, nena.” The bartender set down her work and met the woman over the bar top with a lingering kiss.

“Puedo tomar una bebida? Tengo mucho sed,” the woman purred. Can I have a drink? I’m so thirsty. But it wasn’t any of the bottles behind the bar that claimed her attention. Her eyes danced up and down the bartender’s body, gleaming.  

She angled Javi a sharp, appraising glance. Javi met her gaze, then deliberately looked away, sipping his drink. Satisfied, she sat back on her stool.

The bartender, after extracting another kiss from the woman, brought her a glass of something clear and full of ice, and Javier listened to them talk. About their days, about their friend’s new cat, about what to have for dinner tomorrow. They sounded like every other couple Javier had ever known. They could have been Steve and Connie, if Steve and Connie knew anyone who would adopt a hairless cat or complained about gringos clogging up their favorite taco place.

Two of the men in the booth embraced when the song they’d been singing ended. One of their friends threw a fry at them, dramatically lamenting his own singlehood. Javi looked down and swirled the ice cube remaining in his glass, feeling simultaneously alone and strangely reluctant to leave.

The bartender reappeared in front of him. “Another whiskey?”

Clearing his throat, Javier straightened. “No, I shouldn’t. Thank you.” He made to stand and don his sunglasses

“Come back anytime. A lot of nice people come in this time of year.”

Javi gave a nod to her and then to her partner. The woman smiled in return, and Javier left the rainbow flags rippling behind him.

—

Twice, Javier Peña walked into a bar in June.

It wasn’t that kind of bar, but you wouldn’t know it looking around. The place was full of bubbly, happy people of every appearance on the gender spectrum, and some off the spectrum besides. Rainbow was too limited of a word to describe the variety of colors on flags.

All the same, it felt…relaxed. Homey. Pool balls cracked from a trio of tables. Too-big groups squashed into booths, giggling over knocked elbows and pressed-together thighs. Dancing broke out sporadically, the odd couple swaying alone or groups unable to resist the combination of the music playing and the contents of their glasses.

“Oye, whiskey boy!” The bartender Javi had met before popped up behind the counter in front of him. “Nice to see you again. The same on the rocks?”

Tonight she could have been mistaken for a college bartender, in a t-shirt snipped and tied to within an inch of its life. Glitter streaked her long black braids. Javier couldn’t help but wonder if her more feminine partner had had a hand in either statement. Tonight the bartender’s eyes were wide and bright, as if absorbing the energy in the bar and reflecting it back.

“Just a beer, thanks.”

Javi found a stool near the end of the bar, bottle in hand. He didn’t really have a plan of any kind. He could, technically, take someone back to his hotel room, but he didn’t relish the thought of his [pops] potentially seeing them leave tomorrow morning. He wasn’t in the market to make friends. His usual play was to nurse a few drinks while people-watching alone, but somehow that felt…wrong, here.

Or maybe it was Javier who was wrong. This place sure felt like a gay bar tonight, and he didn’t really have a place in one of those. Everyone else seemed to have friends and lovers and grins on their faces. What was he doing here, besides bringing the mood down with his brooding?

“You’re looking at that bottle like it’s about to break your heart.”

Javier looked up (and up, and up) at a man with desert-blond hair sticking out from under a Texas A&M ballcap. He was good-looking, Javi supposed, and dressed pretty normally if you didn’t count the sinfully tight fit of his shirt. He might have been one of few people in the bar besides Javi himself who didn’t have rhinestones somewhere on their person. Fine lines were just visible at the corners of his eyes, so it might have been his rangy build- or maybe the openness of his smile- that made him look young.

All of Javi's dependable wittiness seemed to have fled. His mouth quirked by muscle memory. “Nah, beer’s about the only thing that hasn’t broken my heart,” Javi tried.

The younger man laughed. “Can I get you another one, then?”

And so Javi allowed himself to be drawn into conversation with the man. Jason, his name was. The bartender gave him a friendly nod as she deposited their drinks- he must have been a regular here. It was nice, talking to someone- about himself, about Jason, about nothing at all. This kind of…companionship, however brief it would end up being, was something Javier hadn’t realized he’d been missing.

He relaxed into it. Into the comfortable, friendly atmosphere of the bar. Javi wasn’t blind. He saw the admiration in the younger (for he was indeed slightly younger) man’s eyes, heard the comments that tiptoed just this side of flirtatious. He didn’t discourage it. Why would he? It felt like it’d been a damn long time since Javier had been so enjoyed.

And he found himself enjoying Jason in return. There was a warmth, an awareness prickling in Javi’s chest that he recognized. It spread the longer they sat and talked, sparked in his fingers, the ends of his hair. It felt like…something loosening in him. Some knot unraveling that he hadn’t ever acknowledged was there.

As the night wound down, though- as their knees bumped and their laughter came warmer- Javier felt the knot drawing tighter again. He came to a decision. Quickly, gruffly, he confessed: he’d never done this before. He hadn’t set out find someone like this, didn’t want Jason to feel used- but Javi did want him. Had he mentioned that part?

As Javi half-stood from his stool, breathing hard, mouth dry, Jason’s look of surprise melted into something else. He placed his hand on Javi’s knee. Jason’s warm smile set fire to Javier, and the knot in his chest turned to ash and flaked away.  

—

There was more than one knot to his fears, Javier would discover. There was a whole web, intricately tangled and connected to subjects he would have never imagined. Some of the knots he picked at thoroughly, taking the time to smooth every kink (ahem) in their connecting cords. Some, he would realize, during the course of his research, were actually stupid, and these he excised without a second thought. Others, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to undo completely.

But that was for future-Javi to worry about. Present-Javi was tangled in much more pleasant things, like bedsheets and Jason’s unexpectedly strong arms. They spent many long, long nights together over the next few weeks. A few mornings, too, making Chucho raise his eyebrows upon seeing his son dash back through the hotel to shower, shirt buttoned askew and sweat still gleaming on his neck. 

It was a dizzying fling. But Jason was a good teacher, and Javi had never been one to shy from a challenge. By the end he’d have Jason flush-faced and gasping, making jokes like “my best student” and “Remind me to bring you a gold star next time”.

Javi didn’t remind him, of course, and Jason didn’t bring any gold stars.

He brought something else.

“I got you a present,” he said, and Javi did a double take.

“What?”

“I mean, it’s just a little thing, they sell them everywhere during pride month, and I just thought…” Jason shrugged, fidgeting bashfully, and held out his hand.

In it sat a small pin in the shape of a waving flag. Its rainbow stripes were unmistakable. Javi stared at it, his throat constricting. Slowly, he took it from Jason’s palm, the metal cool against his fingertips.

“You got me a pride pin.”

“You don’t have to wear it, or put it anywhere visible, obviously. I just thought…to remember me by. To remember yourself by.” Jason looked up from under his lashes then. Whatever else Javier took from their time together, Jason wanted him to remember the significant conversations they’d had.

Emotion swelled unexpectedly in Javier’s chest. He reached out, wrapped his fingers in Jason’s hair, and tugged him closer. Jason accepted his kiss with a sigh of pleasure, and they spent the next several minutes memorizing each other’s taste, the feel of their bodies pressed together, warm and firm.

Finally they parted, lips swollen, breath mingling. “Thank you,” Javier said, voice rough. “I’ll remember.”

He didn’t wear the pin. But he put it in his pocket, and it gave him a little jolt every time the edges poked him.

–

Their paths didn't cross again. But Javi takes the rainbow pin with him everywhere he travels, and on a ranch in Tennessee, he takes it out and studies it. He thinks of a man, and a woman, and another flag striped in red, blue, and black.

Thanks for reading :) ♥️♥️

Dividers by strangergraphics

[kindaqueerngl]

do you have any funny will solace headcanons to share?

IM SO GLAD YOU ASKED!!!

. Will named his guitar Gary ( Gary Guitar ) and so he'll randomly be like "yeah I'm gonna go play with Gary" and people get confused because he has a boyfriend

. he wears crocs with socks and has croc charms that say the cheesiest shit with inpirational quotes, your mom jokes, song lyrics and bisexual pride stuff

. he's got like a million pickup lines that he'll randomly spring on Nico ( bonus: he does finger guns and clicks his tongue afterwards usually following with a horribly done wink )

. he gets obsessed with people sometimes ( almost like a hyperfixation but with something real ) and will start droning on about how beautiful Nico is

. a stim of his is to excitedly fan himself but he always plays it off that he's fanning himself bc he's so hot

. you can't find a picture of him making a normal face it's not possible

. he gets the words marshmellow and mushroom mixed up so he'll acccidentally tell people that he went marshmellow picking or that he wants marshmellows on his pizza

. he gets those really annoying shirts with horrible slogans like "I'm a master baiter" with a fish on it, "I <3 HOT DADS" , and "if you can read my shirt good job you're reading my shirt"

. when he plays a A minor chord every fucking time he'll either say "a minoooooooor" ( like from not like us ) or he'll say "haha guys look I'm fingering a minor"

. he has like twenty thousand pieces of rocky horror picture show merch and he spends like all of his money on said merch

. he'll listen to a song and pick out the most romantic parts and tell Nico that it reminds him of him but Will really likes Alex G and Corbon Amodio and Cavetown so it's sweet and weirdly sad at the same time

. he can do really really good star wars character impressions ( specifically darth vader, chewbaka, and yoda ) and he'll scare the shit out of people by randomly making the yoda vs dooku noise ( if you're a real one you'll know what I mean by that )

. sometimes he'll talk to ananimate objects and make them talk back to him and one day Nico walks in on him talking to a pen that's stuck in his pencil case and Will yells: "OH MY GODS JUST COME OUT" and then he laughs to himself and does a highpitched voice for the pen and says "I...I'm gay"

. he'll say something flirtatious to Nico and then be like "shit autocorrect" DURING A VERBAL CONVERSATION.

. copes with humour so he'll randomly start playing blackbird by the beatles on guitar in a horrible voice and be like "haha get it because I have trauma with birds"

. jokingly says he's transphobic because he's from Texas so out of nowhere he'll be like "eeEEwwww TRaNs pEoPLe TheY'Re So GroSSSsssSs"

. calls Nico gay as an insult and Nico will be like "Will we've been dating for months"

. says no homo after like hot make out sessions with Nico ( scene: Nico and Will sitting in a bed shirts off with hickeys all over eachother and Will just out of no where "haha no homo though" end scene )

. uses gen alpha slang a ton ( like too much ) so he'll randomly yell "GYAT" at Nico or say that something's sigma

. has braces but eats popcorn and then spends hours trying to get bits out

. MAKES SO MANY 69 JOKES ITS HORRIFYING

I have more too

[builtbybrokenbells]

Melodic Memories | Track 1: Wild Horses - The Rolling Stones

In a tattered old box shoved deep down in the corner of an overfilled closet, a lifetimes worth of memories lie dormant at the bottom waiting to be rediscovered.

Masterlist

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 15k

Warnings: angst, crying, heartbreak, high school breakups, divorce, estranged parent/strained parental relationship, depression, high school drama, anxiety, mentions of drinking, mentions of hookups/one night stands, unrequited love, PTSD mentions/explanations of reactions and behaviours due to PTSD, mentions of addiction/drugs, smoking, swearing, best friend fluff, sorry if i miss any!

Here we go!! I’m so excited to share this. this story is very near and dear to my heart as all of these songs are very special to me in one way or another. I will warn this is a bit of a slowburn, and there’s a lot of flashbacks/memories in the chapters to showcase the extent of the relationship between the characters. As always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes 🤍 I can’t wait to hear what you guys think

I usually have a listen while reading section, and it’s mostly a suggestion, but it’s imperative that you listen to the song stated in the title at least before reading, as every chapter is directly related to each one. If that’s not your thing, at least give the lyrics a quick read over! Much love 🫶🏻

SIX YEARS LATER

“Holy fuck, you have a lot of stuff.” Your best friend let out a dramatic huff as she dropped an overflowing box to the ground. You looked back at her over your shoulder, letting out a small chuckle as she pushed her long hair away from her forehead. She was tired, that much was obvious, and so were you. Still, despite your aching bodies and worn down minds, the two of you persevered with faith that the end goal would be worth all of the suffering.

“So do you.” You reminded her, folding a t-shirt and setting it neatly atop a pile of clothes you had been focused on. “Don’t hear me complaining about it.”

“Yeah, as if.” She scoffed. You could hear the roll of her eyes in her tone, striking a small smile on your face as she took a step towards you. “All you do is complain.”

“Yeah, ‘cause it pisses you off.” You grinned, grabbing an old pair of jeans from the mound of clothes you pulled from your closet. You looked over the tired material, your lips turning down into a frown as you tossed them into a pile on the ground, knowing there was no sense in keeping them when they looked one wear away from disintegrating.

“I’m kidding, you know that.” She assured you, making it clear that she wasn’t truly as upset as her words seemed. She began moving another box from your bed to the hallway, huffing as she bargained with the weight of the item. She was stacking them outside your door to allow for some more space inside the already tiny room.

Despite the smallness and the outdated decor, it felt nice to be back, sleeping on the same comfortable mattress you’d grown so used to when you lived at home. In truth, the lack of space was mostly credited to your oversized bed; you had begged your mom for a king size, asking for it for every Christmas and birthday from the ages of ten to sixteen until she finally cracked and made the purchase. Turns out, it was a great purchase, because six years and a graduate degree later, you and your best friend were sharing it while you prepared to move into your own apartment a few towns over.

You had traveled to Mel’s hometown almost a month prior, tearing apart her childhood bedroom just the same as you were doing to your own. You packed boxes full of her belongings, spending some quality time with her parents while learning and laughing about the funniest of all her childhood stories. Just like her, her parents were fun, free spirited and more accepting than even you could comprehend. They took you in with open arms, extending their gratitude for loving their daughter so dearly while she was so far away from home.

In truth, the pleasure was all yours, because in your six years at university, you felt as though Mel was the reason that you not only survived, but flourished. The two of you clicked instantly when you met, finding each other during your first week of freshman year in an intro to classic literature class. You bonded over your mutual dislike for your monotone professor who had to make an effort to be so disinterested in her own syllabus, and from there, the rest was history.

“You know, I actually liked Jane Eyre before I took this class.” You muttered under your breath, casting a sideways glance at the girl sitting next to you.

Her dirty blonde hair hung over her face, her eyes focused on a piece of empty paper in an unused notebook as she clutched a black pen in her hand. Every time the professor would switch slides on her PowerPoint, she would jump to write something down, but stop once she realized that once again, the gray haired woman was spewing nothing of significance.

Her skin was sunkissed, like she had spent all summer on the beach (or in a tanning bed—who were you to judge?), and her clothes were cute, but comfortable. Her brown eyes flickered to meet yours, her head turning ever so slightly to give you a glimpse of her face through her thick locks of wavy hair. The warmth within them was familiar, like you had seen them before in someone else you loved so dearly. You swallowed hard, forcing the thought out of your head. You were nervous, yet still excited at the thought of making a new friend, wondering if your words held any value to her, or if she would tell you to shut up.

Since moving to town, you hadn’t found one person you clicked with. You met lots of rich boys who threw their money in your face in hopes of convincing you to sleep with them, and plenty of girls who turned their nose up at your jeans with holes in the knees. They all looked like they stepped out of a magazine, and you felt completely out of place as you tried to break free from your small town habits. You dressed the same as you did in senior year, barely understanding how to be a university student and definitely lacking in the fashion department. You wore makeup to parties, but never anywhere else, mostly because in the years prior, you never felt the need to impress anyone.

Your long term relationship in high school left you more than secure with yourself, happy if you were comfortable and confident without any external aids. Now that he wasn’t by your side, you realized just how dearly he loved you, because without a pristine outward appearance, all of the university-goers seemed to turn their heads as you walked by. You had yet to find anyone to make friends with, and definitely no romantic interests as you tried to mend the hole in your heart that formed when you left your boyfriend behind to start anew. You were lonely, and more importantly, desperate to find someone to talk to.

“UPenn, Ivy League with a 7% acceptance rate and an English program better than any of their competitors, if you survive it.” She cracked a small smile, keeping her voice hushed as she joined in on the joke. “Only place in the world you can pay 20k a year for someone to put you to sleep.” You bit down on your lip, forcing yourself to swallow back the laugh stuck in your throat. You had sat beside the unnamed girl for your first three classes of the semester, but never found the courage to speak to her until that moment. She was the first person you had met that radiated a bit of life, something unique and alluring in her eyes that you couldn’t quite place. More than that, when you looked at her, you felt an overwhelming sense of familiarity. You were incredibly appreciative that she reciprocated any of your efforts at all.

“I think she put herself to sleep on Wednesday.” You confessed, recalling her slumped posture as she sat at her desk, waiting too long to engage in the group discussion after assigning an individual comprehension activity.

“Think she’s on her way there now, actually.” The girl nodded towards the front, suppressing a grin as she noticed the professor's drooping eyelids and extended bout of silence. The two of you shared a silent giggle, shaking shoulders and hurting bellies as you used all of your energy to silence yourselves in fear of getting caught. “I’m Mel, by the way.” She said, introducing herself after she calmed herself down.

“Y/N.” You replied, feeling better than you had in days. It felt nice to laugh, especially with someone who seemed to adorn the same sense of humour as your own. “Mel… is that short for Melanie? Or are you just ‘Mel’, cause that would be cool. Mysterious, even.”

“Neither, actually.” She chuckled, shifting in her seat so she was facing you a little better. “It’s short for ‘Mélange’, which is the stupidest fucking name I’ve ever heard.” She gave you a moment to digest the fact before explaining further, noticing your curious eyes as you held back another laugh. “My parents had me young, during their hippy-dippy era when they smoked too much weed and dressed like they were headed to Woodstock. Apparently it means ‘a mixture of dissimilar elements’, because I was made from different parts of them, or whatever. To me, it sounds like a really weird way of saying they had sex, and I really don’t think it meant that much to them back then. Probably just wanted to be the first to name their kid something, then realized how ridiculous it sounded so they had to come up with a story about it.”

“That’s… cool, though.” You stifled another laugh, finding her expression comedic as she rehashed the same story she used to explain her name every time someone asked.

“Yeah, cool unless it’s your own. Try growing up with that name and trying to survive the American public school system.” She shuddered at the thought, but a smile still lingered on her lips, telling you that she truly didn’t care that much anymore. “What about you? Your name short for anything, or are you just cool like that?”

From there, the title of best friends went without question. You did everything together, ranging from schoolwork to trips to the grocery store, hating the thought of being apart even while doing the most mundane tasks. You had made a pact to live together after graduation, unable to digest the idea of being apart when your university days ended, and you took the promise seriously. Since then, you did everything you could to ensure it happened, including travelling to her home state to pack up her shit so long as she promised to help you with yours. You both decided to go in the direction of teaching with your degrees, so you thought that if you lived together, you even had a shot of getting hired at the same school. Though, she seemed more keen on teaching younger students, and you leaned more towards high school.

There was lots still up in the air, especially without a solid job offer in line, but the two of you were determined to make it work, knowing that if you had each other, you could get through anything. Your mom was enough of a saint to house the two of you while you figured your shit out, and that’s what you were doing; packing, reminiscing, applying, and enjoying your life before things got too hectic again.

Despite it being manual labour, you quite enjoyed the experience of packing up your belongings, even though it did feel a bit melancholic at times. With every item you picked up, you were reminded of memories you’d shoved so far down that they were nearly forgotten. Although not all of them were the best, they were still important, and they showed you how far you had come when sometimes it felt like you made no progress at all. Mel was having a fantastic time for a whole different reason, finding your dramatic retelling of stories greatly comedic, and getting her first pick at the clothes you were planning on donating.

Being back at home with your family was different than it was all those years ago. Your mom, who had finally come to terms with the fact you were an adult, drank wine with you both in the evening as she got to know your best friend beyond what the surplus of FaceTime calls allowed over the years. You went on errands with her when you wanted to get away from packing, and enjoyed the things you once took for granted. Some nights, when she found herself a little too tipsy and reminiscent on the years that passed so quickly, she sat before you, weepy-eyed as she professed how proud she was of you. You felt like you were learning a whole new side of her, rather than the strict but loving one you knew all of that time ago. She was a woman who hurt and cried just as much as you did, who always put her kids first and held herself together when she was falling apart, just for the sake of being the rock in the house. You found yourself growing a whole new respect and a whole different kind of love for her, and you were grateful for the opportunity to see it.

Your younger sister, who was also staying at home for the summer, found herself hanging out in your room more often than not. There was much less arguments over who was spending more time in the bathroom, and no more mean words shared between the two of you that once flew so fast. In the early hours of the night, you finally had the chance to have the heart-to-hearts you missed out on when you were angry at each other over nothing important. She had grown up just as much as you had, and it almost pained you to see a woman standing in the shoes of the little girl you best knew her as.

Being in your hometown was different, and you had spent little time there since your studies began. Mostly for a few days during the holidays, and rarely any other time. When Mel pitched the idea of moving out of dorms and into an apartment, the visits grew much less frequent and when they did happen, it wasn’t usually for very long. You didn’t have many friends left in Frankenmuth, if any at all. The town was strange, a former village in which you had built a life that was now completely abandoned. Shops you used to love closed down for good and replaced with something new, old hideaways being changed into modern corporate hellscapes. Every year, there seemed to be new buildings lining the streets and different faces regularly appearing on sidewalks. It was home, for sure, but nowhere near as comfortable as it used to be. When you blundered around the town, you felt like a stranger visiting for the first time, learning everything all over again.

“Hey,” Mel caught your attention, pulling a cork board from your closet that had pictures tacked to the surface and small paper decorations in between. “Ms. Fishers sixth grade graduation!” She exclaimed, pointing to the banner of cardstock paper tacked to the top, the letters outlined with black sharpie and filled in with coloured marker. You laughed at the sight, realizing you hadn’t seen that board in years as you stepped towards her.

“That’s me!” You exclaimed, pointing to you standing in the mini-graduation gown at the very end of the front row. The class picture was sweet, but it made you wonder where everyone else in the class ended up. After all these years, were they nearing twenty five with no clue where they were headed, just like you? Or were they settled down with families, finding full time jobs and building lives with the people they loved?

The thought was saddening to you, making you realize how far away you were from getting to that point. A relationship was laughable, barely mentioning marriage and kids. In your six years of university, you had your fair share of hookups and flings, but never anything serious. You couldn’t seem to find anyone who you connected with further than physical attraction, and certainly nobody you would be willing to spend your life with. So far, the only compatible relationship for living was the girl standing next to you, and you were certain at some point, she would be ready to move on to something different.

“Look at this,” you stepped past her, grinning as you grabbed a cowboy hat from one of the handmade shelves at the top of your closet. Your dad, when he was still a good dad, made it for you so you could have some extra space. You placed the hat on your head, tilting it downwards over your face as you struck a pose. The dollar store gemstones you hot glued to the top glimmered under the light, making the sight even more ridiculous.

“What is that?” She asked, caught in a fit of laughter as she looked at the poorly decorated hat.

“I got really into spirit days at school.” You shrugged, tossing the hat in the pile of throwaway items.

“Loser.” She muttered, reaching for an old sports jacket suspended on a hanger. “Volleyball?” She questioned, raising an eyebrow as she read the words embroidered on the back.

“Yeah, tenth grade and never again. Coach was a bitch.” You explained, reaching for it to see if it still fit. As you made a move to slip it over your shoulders, you froze in place, knowing that even if it did fit, you would never wear it again. Instead, you threw it in the pile of clothes you were planning to drop off at the thrift store.

“Oh, cool!” You exclaimed, a shiny trophy catching your eye, hidden in the back corner of the top shelf. You brought it down, flashing it in her direction so she could read the gold panel.

“1st place…. Frankenmuth Middle School Relay?” She asked, unsure of what the award was for.

“Big race we used to do at the end of the year. Think the teachers got sick of lesson planning, so they brought us to the soccer field to do a bunch of activities. I was the fastest in the class that year.” You said, proud of the achievement as you placed it back upon the shelf.

“Is this a diary?” She asked, hauling an old leather bound book from a stack of papers and magazines.

“Yes,” you cackled, snatching it from her hands and flipping it open to a random page. “Let’s see… April 30th, 2010.” You cleared your throat for dramatic effects, beginning to read the entry aloud. “Today, in English class, Liam S. was totally checking me out. He’s definitely not the cutest guy in the class, but he’s funny, and he’s so nice. I hope he asks me to the spring dance, mom got me a new dress and everything!”

“And did Liam S. sweep you off your feet that night?” She asked, pulling her hands to her heart as she let out an airy sigh.

“No, but we did date.” You explained. “For three weeks, until I broke up with him for rating me too low on a hot or not list.”

“What!?” She exploded, her voice shrill as an echoing laugh boomed through the room.

“Yeah, apparently I only had the fourth best ass in the class.” You scoffed, quickly reading a little further into the book. You used to sit in your bedroom for hours at night, pouring your heart out on to the paper just for it to be forgotten in a mess of items in your room. “It’s funny, you know. I used to carry this thing with me everywhere, and I barely even remembered it existed.”

“Yeah, there was lots of stuff that I did the same thing with. Used to be a prized possession, now they just collect dust on a shelf somewhere.” She muttered, pulling out a large box sitting in the back corner. “And for the record, I bet you had the best ass out of anyone at that school.” She clarified, plopping the cardboard down on your mattress.

“No, I definitely didn’t.” You laughed, looking to the door as you heart a small pitter-patter of paws against the linoleum floor. The jingle of the bell around the collar signified your suspicions were correct, and when a fuzzy head peeked around the corner, you greeted him with excitement. “The man himself, Blizzard of Ozz: Prince of Fucking Darkness!” You exclaimed, watching as the tubby black cat raised his tail and rubbed himself up against the doorframe. He let out a meow in response to your voice, happily trotting over to greet you.

“Don’t call him by his full name unless he does something wrong!” Mel scolded, reaching down to pick him up as he rubbed against her leg. “He won’t take us seriously if we use it all the time.” She plopped him down on the bed, the sound of his purring loud enough to reach both of your ears. He sniffed around the boxes a few times, nudging his face against the corner of the cardboard flaps to investigate the item taking up his place on the mattress.

“I don’t think he ever really takes us seriously, Mel.” You furrowed your brows together, looking from her to the small animal curiously meandering around the bed. “He gets treats and new toys every day, and we kiss him on the head after we scold him because we feel too bad about it.”

“Right, so don’t give away the last bit of power we have left.” She said, fixing the tag on his collar that somehow adorned his entire name in small print.

The cat was spoiled, loved so wholly and deeply by the two of you that sometimes you believed he was in charge. After a particularly rough exam week in your second last year of school, the two of you took a break from studying and took a walk downtown to clear your mind. You stopped at a coffee shop a few blocks away from your apartment building, where you found him, keeping content by playing with empty coffee cups in the nearby alleyway. Being two kindhearted people, you couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him behind. Within two weeks, he had made himself at home in your apartment, and not long after that, in your hearts, too. He went with you on every adventure; his harness being on more often than not. He tagged along in every road trip, and neither of you ever thought once about leaving him behind as you moved across the country again.

He was a witty and clever little thing, always sneaking into places he shouldn’t be and never allowing himself to go unnoticed. The minute you stepped in a room, he was squeaking at you to pet him, and never did he allow either of you to sit alone on the couch. He took turns sleeping with the both of you, and was happier than ever now that you shared a bed and he didn’t have to pick.

And yes, his full name was The Man Himself, Blizzard of Ozz: Prince of Fucking Darkness.

Oftentimes, Ozz sufficed.

The cat actually went unnamed for quite some time after you brought him home. Neither of you seemed keen on the names being suggested, so for a while, he went by ‘Mr. Man.’ Or some odd arangement of classic terms of endearment that got stranger by the day. Then, when the two of you found yourselves a little too high off some weed you bought from an upperclassman, the name made its first appearance. You both took turns rambling ridiculous titles for him, until you took a leap of faith and rattled off the first thing you thought of when Crazy Train played from your Bluetooth speaker. The laughing was so intense it brought the both of you to tears, and from there, it seemed to stick.

Now, you couldn’t think of a better name to call him, even if it was a little ridiculous.

Careful not to disturb him, Mel reached forward into the box, lifting a few items from it. Ozz busied himself by chewing on the cardboard flap, not privy to the woman beside him at all. “What’s all this stuff?” She asked, looking over a few sheets of Monopoly money, a cracked mirror from the dollar store, and a deck of playing cards.

“That must be the stuff I cleared out of my locker in senior year.” You said, turning your head downwards and peeking inside. “Yeah, it definitely is.” You confirmed, pulling out a set of string lights with a battery pack attached. “It’s all junk, you can throw it out.” You dismissed it, ready to move on to something new.

“Are you sure?” She asked, looking between you and the box with great hesitancy. You casted another sideways glance, your lips pursing together as you wondered if it was worth your time.

Something in your heart told you not to jump so fast, to think about it a moment longer before discarding the memories away so easily. You tried not to be a sentimental person, because you found that sentiments only seemed to hurt you rather than bring you comfort. You used to be that type of person, so many moons ago when life was simple and the most you had to worry about was a surplus of homework and no pocket change to spend. Now, you thought it was ridiculous, and you did everything you could to draw a line between memories and objects. Items could not hurt, just the same as they could not be happy. They were objects, inanimate and unable to mean more than what you made them to be.

But there was something about that fucking box, like it was fate for you to rediscover all the things that awaited you inside.

“Let’s go through it.” You said, changing your mind as your skin prickled with curiosity. The emotion that took hold was unfamiliar, confusing and unsettling when you thought about throwing it away. It washed over you so quickly that you couldn’t even think of anything else, and you wondered if you were the very thing psyching yourself up for nothing, or if there was a reason you felt such a pull to the old items inside.

You sat on the side of your bed, your hands landing on the very corners as you gripped at the soft sheets lining the mattress. As you did so, a twang of hurt filled your chest, passing almost as soon as it came. You blinked hard, your eyes wandering the room as you tried to comprehend the sudden change in yourself. Your eyebrows furrowed together, your mind racing as you looked at the old chestnut dresser that stood next to the door, standing prominently against the crimson paint on the walls. The scene was so familiar, just like the melancholic emotion that came along with it. The hurt in your heart seemed right as you sat on the edge of your bed, but you didn’t know why.

“Are you okay?” Mel asked, also noticing the shift in your demeanor. Your head snapped towards her, your eyes glossy with the feeling that plagued you, but you nodded your head and tried your hardest to snap yourself out of it.

“Yeah, just a nasty little bit of deja-vu, I think.” You breathed, your eyes wandering back to the empty door frame. Whatever your brain wanted you to remember was pertinent to you, but you couldn’t seem to put it together yet. You felt like you’d been in the exact position before, but you couldn’t place it.

“I get it,” she empathized, taking a seat next to you and placing the box on the floor in front of her. “It’s a lot seeing all of your old stuff, like a lifetime you’ve completely forgotten about.”

“Yeah,” you laughed, the sound airy and forced. “I haven’t thought about high school in so long that it kind of just seems like a different world, now. I kind of forced myself to stop thinking about it, because it hurt too bad, you know? And I guess after a while, I blocked it out completely.” She knew what you meant, because in the entire time you’d known her, you had been unreasonably stingy with stories from your high school days. Every time she mentioned it, you seemed to go to a different place entirely, like you were using all of your energy to ensure the memories wouldn’t resurface. She respected you enough not to ask, but it was impossible to run away from now that you were standing face to face with the very things you tried so hard to stay away from.

“We don’t have to go through this, if you don’t want to.” She assured you, watching your face as your eyes fluttered towards the box.

“I do and I don’t.” You tried your best to explain how you felt, hesitant to reach out and explore the items before you, but gutted at the prospect of throwing it in the trash. “I feel like I’ve grown so much and I’m so different, and I don’t need to see any of this stuff again, but there’s something telling me I have to look through it all, that if I don’t, I’m going to regret it for the rest of my life.” She bargained with your words before she responded, carefully considering all you had to say.

“Seems like you’re looking for something, but you don’t know what it is.” She offered the idea with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Yeah, maybe.” You muttered, finally harnessing enough courage to reach forward and sort through the mess of items.

Underneath a pile of loose papers, you found your old graduation cap. You held it in your hands, your fingers drifting over the silky, light blue fabric. You let your hand drift downward, running through the red threads of the tassel that dangled from the top. You placed it to the side, finding little comfort in the item at all. Below that lay a tattered AP Biology textbook, the front cover frayed and littered with marks from the students who used it before (and remembered to return it). There was an old pencil case stuffed to the brim with writing utensils and erasers. When you pulled it open, you found a folded up note from a fellow friend that was much too faded to read.

The more you pulled out, the stronger the tugging in your heart felt. Photographs of you and your old friends, bent and torn, floated loosely around the box. You took the time to study every one of them, saddened at how estranged you’d become from them. You didn’t talk to anyone from your hometown, and although you thought cutting contact was for the best, it only seemed to hurt as you recalled the sleepovers and adventures you engaged in with people who didn’t know you any longer. It all hurt.

Why did it hurt so fucking bad?

Sitting on the edge of the bed, boxes packed and the lingering scent of your mother’s favourite lavender candle hanging thick in the air. The chestnut boards of the dresser that once stored your entire wardrobe, the tile underneath your feet, impossibly cold despite the summer heat radiating through the panel windows by your bedside. Reruns of Dr. Phil on the television downstairs, the hum of a song stuck in your head despite no tune playing at all.

You’ve been here, in this exact position, hurting over something with the same fervor as you felt in the moment. It was so far away. Why couldn’t you remember?

For once, six years after leaving the town, you were aching to remember the memories and the love that was contained within the walls of the home, but you couldn’t. You pushed it so far away that the life you once led in Michigan no longer felt like your own. It was hazy, fuzzy around the corners every time you tried to recollect a scene. The voices were warbled, echoing somewhere deep behind your eyes and not quite loud enough to reach your ears.

Why did you try so hard to forget? Why did you force it away so desperately?

Then, the world stopped.

No person beside you, no curious cat nudging your hand. Dr. Phil had gone silent, and the air wasn’t even filled with the sweet notes of vanilla laced in unison with lavender. The creaks and groans of the old house ceased to exist, and the mattress below you disintegrated to nothing. You were stuck, frozen in time, floating amidst a cloud of smoke that wouldn’t clear. Your lungs burned for air, your heart threatening to explode under the weight of emotion. Your mind was repeating the same thing over and over again, incessantly reminding you, forcing you to remember everything you had hidden away in hopes of closure.

Instead of your voice, it was his, saying the same words that were written in silver sharpie on the lid of the tiny, black shoebox.

So let’s make it last.

“Oh, god.” You wheezed out the words, feeling like you were suffocating from the plethora of pain encasing your body. In an instant, six years spent dedicated to forgetting suddenly dissolved into one, terrifying storm of reminiscing.

The box.

The box.

That’s why you couldn’t throw it away.

“What is wrong, Y/N?” Mel asked, urgent as if she’d already asked a hundred times.

Little to your knowledge, she had, but you were too busy listening to the sweet sound of Jake Kiszka’s voice, stored so pristinely in the deepest depths of your mind.

“The shoebox.” You squeaked, raising a shaky finger to point her attention towards the poorly painted over Vans logo.

“So, what? What is it?”

What is it? It was everything.

It was a box full of love, sealed so long ago and hidden away for safekeeping when you couldn’t part from the physical reminders of the boy who forever had your heart. It was years worth of memories, years worth of emotion you hadn’t let yourself feel since you locked it away.

“That should be everything, my love.” Your mom crooned, placing the last movie ticket stub inside the box and sending a sorrowful look your way. Your tear stained cheeks were too much for her to bear, but she loved you enough to stand witness to the biggest heartbreak of your life. She loved you enough to put her own hurt aside, just to ease yours, to alleviate you from being the one to close the book on the chapter that hurt you the most. “What do you want to do with it, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know.” You drew in a shaky breath, holding in a wail that was begging to escape you.

It had been 110 days since you had broken up with Jake, since you left him with sad eyes and a heart that bled only for you standing in your driveway, the ghost of his last ‘I love you’ still on his lips. It had been 110 days of the most gut wrenching, exhausting, and excruciating pain you had ever felt.

The snow stuck to the ground, the frost nipping at your nose when you stepped outside, and the Christmas tree standing tall in your living room told you that the season had passed and the world was still turning, but you felt stuck in that sticky summer day in August, tears on your cheeks and love on the tip of your tongue as you spent your last night with him. It was the first time you’d been home since then, the first time stepping foot in your bedroom after creating your most haunting memory within it.

You knew you needed to get over him, but you did not know how.

How do you move on from someone who loved you so completely and wholly? How do you stop lamenting about better days that have since passed and will never return? How do you keep going, knowing you would never hold his hand again, feel his touch, or appreciate the sweetness of his kiss? How could you move on when you did not hate him? When his memory still existed in your mind and he was still that perfect person?

The memory of him lived within the walls of your house still, his shampoo still lingering on your pillowcase and his love still in the air. The reminders of your relationship existed in every corner of your bedroom, on the walls, in picture frames, and in the threads of your sheets and blankets. Even now, with the pictures and love notes and dried flowers contained in a single box, you had no idea how to get him out of your head.

“Wait,” you sniffled, watching your mom begin to close the top of the box. You couldn’t stand to do it yourself. You tumbled down the stairs, a mess of tears on your face and a pain in your heart growing larger by the second, begging her to help you gut the last remaining proof of your relationship from the walls. “There’s one more thing.” You confessed, reaching down into your book bag. 

For 110 days, you kept it so close, carrying it with you wherever you went and playing it through the disc drive in your laptop every night to fall asleep. Now, you knew that you would never be able to move on, especially not if you continued to hold on to the memory so tightly.

With an unsteady hand and a heaving chest, you handed her the plastic CD case. Her eyes traveled over the faded writing on the disk itself, and her heart ached for you. Slowly, she placed it underneath the rest of the items, hiding it from sight to make it easier on you.

“I’m gonna keep this, and I’ll put it somewhere safe, lovebug.” She said, finally closing the top to the shoebox and sealing the memories inside forevermore. “Why don’t you go take a nice bath? I’ve got a bottle of wine downstairs with your name on it, but only this time.” She offered, reaching out and tucking your hair behind your ear. “Tomorrow, we’ll go out and do something, all three of us. That sound good?”

Of course she understood; five years ago, she sat in her bedroom, hurting just the same over a man who left her without a second thought. Who left all of you without a second thought. The only true healer was time, and right now, time was not your friend. You could lean on her, ask her for help, hold her hand, because she knew how you felt, and she’d felt that way many times before you even knew what it meant.

“That sounds good.” You breathed, closing your eyes and squeezing out the last of the tears brimming the lids.

“I’ll change your sheets for you, too.” She said, standing with the box clutched tightly in her hand. “It hurts right now, my love, but it won’t feel this way forever. I promise.”

It won’t feel this way forever.

Oh how wrong she was, even if the truth didn’t come in the way she meant it.

It did hurt forever, but it was not constant.

Four years it’s been since his name crossed your mind, four years of sleeping soundly and four years free of regret that plagued you so viciously. You were so tired of hurting that you forced yourself to forget; you erased every memory of him from your brain with the help of alcohol and meaningless hookups. You went home with a new guy every night, promising yourself that with new hands on you, you would forget the feeling of his. You buried yourself in school, studying so intently and for so long that your eyes crossed and you had a constant migraine. You deleted him and his family off every social platform, because despite going no contact that first ever week at university, you still stayed up at night, torturing yourself as you scrolled through Instagram and Facebook. You deleted every picture you ever took of him, knowing that if the temptation was there, you would submit to it. Worst of all, you vowed to never speak his name again, just so you could forget how good it felt rolling off your tongue.

You purged him from your life entirely, and it worked so well that he hadn’t been a passing thought in your mind in years. It was not because you hated him, not because you wanted to forget him. You did it out of necessity, knowing that every time you reminisced on the beautiful memories you made with him, it took a little more of your soul. For nearly two years, Jake Kiszka plagued every thought you ever had. You abstained from relationships and romance as a whole, because you knew nobody would ever be able to replace him. You needed to forget him, or else it would have killed you. You loved Jake so utterly and completely, even two years after you broke up, even after never speaking his name again, that it forced you to drown his memory. Every time you thought of him, you forced yourself to think of something else. Every time his face was pictured, perfect in your mind, you made yourself look at something else.

After so long, it became a habit, and now, it was a way of life.

But, even so, as you stared down at the silver writing, you knew deep in your heart that no matter how much forgetting you did, you never stopped loving.

“—earth to Y/N!” A hand waved in front of your face, breaking your staring contest with the Vans box decorated in silver sharpie. You could remember writing it, the sobs that shook your shoulders and the aching of your heart. The shakiness of the letters retold the story as clear as day.

After six years, you were still hopelessly in love with Jake, and one fear you always had remained true; nobody in the entire world could compare to him, and nobody else ever loved you in the same way he did.

Not that you let them, and not that they tried.

So let’s make it last.

How, after so long of refusing to think of the man, did he still have such a drastic effect on you? How were you still so caught up on someone you fell for when you were fifteen?

Out of all the questions, that one seemed the easiest to answer; you were still pining for him, because every version of you after fifteen loved him more than the last.

“Christ, you’re scaring me.” Mel tried again, her hand landing on your shoulder in a desperate attempt to pull your attention back to her. Your head finally snapped in her direction, your lungs searing from the lack of oxygen as you drew in a long overdue breath. “Are you okay?” She was panicked, her eyes wide and her expression coated with her fear. Never once had she seen you in such a state, and she was clueless as to why you were taken from her so quickly.

“I…” you trailed off, shaking your head in an attempt to clear your mind. It felt like a million memories were washing over you at once, stuck in an endless stream of thoughts that you forced yourself to ignore for so long. “That box.” You finally huffed out, your eyes shining with the same heartbreak you felt all of those years ago. Time did not change the intensity in which you hurt over losing him, even if you convinced yourself that it did.

“What about that box?” She asked, trying to pry it out of you. It was a rough subject, not only because it was hurting you so badly, but because aside from your mother, you had never spoken a word about Jake to anyone.

She was your best friend, your partner in crime and everything good in the world, but this was a heartache she had not touched, yet. It was one you stored so deep down that not even you touched it anymore, and in order to answer the question, you would have to tell her everything.

“What isn’t in that box?” Your rhetoric was full of refrain, like the words fought a daunting battle to even pass through your mouth. Your heartbeat was so strong that you could feel it surging through your entire body, under your skin and behind your eyes, all the way to the very tips of your toes. Your face was burning, your throat dry and your eyes sad as you finally reached forward. Your fingers grazed over the surface, collecting a layer of dust as they traced the words. “My whole life is in this box, Mel. The very reason my heart beats.” You whispered, picking it up and placing it in your lap.

“I don’t like it when you get poetic.” She let out a nervous laugh, looking between your face and the item in your hands as she awaited further explanation.

“I don’t know if I can explain it without showing you.” You admitted, your finger gently running over the lip of the cardboard where the cover sat flush with the rest.

“If it’s so important, how did you forget about it? And more importantly, why have I never heard of it?” She asked, trying to make sense of it all. You couldn’t blame her for being so confused—in all of the time you’ve known her, this was the only thing you had ever kept from her.

“You know when something hurts so much that it feels impossible to survive? Like if you don’t stop thinking about it, it will be the only thing you ever think about?” You began, your eyes fluttering closed as a sad smile crossed your lips.

“Yeah, I guess.” She replied, her tone softening as she realized the seriousness of the situation.

“This is one of those things. It was the most beautiful part of my whole life, but now that it’s gone, it’s horrible to remember. It took me two years to get over it, and even then, I never really did. I just got better at bottling it up and ignoring it, and eventually, it became a habit. This hurt so bad that I had to forget about it, because if I didn’t, I would have spent the rest of my life stuck in it, rather than making something new for myself.”

“Ooookayy.” She drew the word out for dramatic effect, her humorous tone usually uplifting you in times of crisis, but not even this time could it begin to ease the feeling of hurt in your heart.

With a breath of courage you did not have, you flipped open the lid. You did not look inside straight away, instead finding yourself staring at the empty section of wall between your door and your dresser, remembering the sight that was there so long ago. Jake, teary-eyed with flowers from his backyard and a CD he’d worked so hard to make, clad in a sweater that he wore only because you bought it for him. You wondered what he looked like now, if he’d recognize you if he stood before you again. You smiled gently to yourself as you recollected the softness of his features, the warmth in his dark eyes, feeling a sense of comfort wash over you that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Where was he, now? Was he halfway across the world, living his dream and playing guitar on stage every night? He used to talk about it so often that you thought it would be a shame if he let that passion go to waste. Was Josh alongside him, still annoying him beyond belief and loving him in a way only a twin brother could? Was his hair long, flowing past his shoulders and cascading down his back, just like he told you he wanted it to? Was his smile the same, toothy and goofy enough to make you fall in love at the first glance?

There were so many things you wanted to know, gutted that Jake existed in the world somewhere and you were not a witness to the light he added to it. You were in agony knowing that there wasn’t just one, but so many versions of him you never got to know, just the same as he never got to experience the many different versions of you. You hated yourself for never reaching out, for locking up that part of your heart and throwing it away, but you had to. It was necessary for survival, and you didn’t want to lose yourself to a stranger who might not even be the boy you once loved so desperately.

Then again, a small part of you knew that no matter how strange Jake would be to you now, he would still be just as lovable and just as beautiful.

Your heart ached at the thought of him being grown, now, likely wrapped up in someone else’s arms who could love him more than you could at the time. Back then, you thought that letting him go was the best way to show how much you loved him, but six years later, you understood he was the type of person you never should have let slip through your fingers. You wondered if he ever thought of you, or if he went through the same turmoil that caused you to shut out his memory completely. You swallowed down the lump in your throat when you realized he likely didn’t, because Jake was always much too grand to be caught up on someone as mediocre as you.

Forcing yourself out of the maddening thoughts, your eyes trailed down to the items inside the box. Carefully, you picked out a pile of movie tickets, sifting through them and trying not to get stuck in every memory of every theater date the two of you had.

“In high school, I met a boy who turned my whole world upside down.” You whispered, squeezing your eyes shut as you passed the tickets to Mel. “He was everything anyone could ever want. He was the type of person that made it impossible not to love him.” You explained, feeling the scratch of tears in your throat as you grabbed a ziplock bag full of dried wildflowers and petals from bouquets. “He was a real romantic, always buying flowers and writing love notes. He walked with me to school before he got his license, and drove me as soon as he did. He was my best friend, and unfortunately, probably the best love of my entire life.”

“What was his name, love?” Mel asked, taking the bag of flowers from your hand so you could continue the walk down memory lane.

“Jacob,” the name felt like gold on your tongue, the taste sweet and the warmth otherworldly. “I called him Jake.” You pulled out a torn journal page, folded neatly and begging to be read. Carefully, you opened it up, letting your eyes drift over the familiar scrawl of his messy handwriting. “We dated for three years. Liam S. had nothing on him, and I met Jake not long after the hot or not debacle.” You laughed quietly, your eyes crinkling in the corners as you realized how happy you were that Liam turned out to be an asshole. Because of his childish behavior, the best years of your life happened. “I’ve never been so thankful to have my heart broken by someone, because if I stayed with Liam, I never would have met Jake. I was skipping class one day because I couldn’t stand the thought of being near Liam after that god awful list, and I ran into Jake, skipping because he couldn’t stand the thought of being in History class. Was fate, I guess. We were inseparable after that.”

You took a moment, swallowing back the pain and blinking away tears as you pulled note after note from the box, each one more painful than the last. There were doodles, stick figures of the two of you holding hands, and hearts dancing around your heads. Jake always had a special way of expressing his love, and he did it in every way he could. It was always lighthearted, never too serious but always fully expressing the tellings of his heart. He wrote you love notes because he wasn’t good at saying it aloud, and he drew terrible pictures when words failed him. At the end of the day, he was a teenage boy, but he was so much better than the rest of them.

“We did everything together. So many days spent at the lake, and so many nights spent talking in this bed. We used to sneak out on the roof and look at the stars every night, because there’s a ledge on the attic window that makes it easy to get up there. He listened and never made me feel stupid, and he loved me so much that I never had to question it. He used to drive my sister to her basketball practices when mom was at work, and he’d sit with me the whole time, happy to do it. He was quiet, but everything he said was worth listening to. He was funny, and so kind. The biggest heart I’ve ever seen on anyone.” You felt yourself choke up, the surplus of emotion becoming too much for you to hold back.

“What happened?”

“Life did.” You responded, simple enough as you continued to sort through the box. There were tickets to school sports games, tokens from the local arcade, and all of the guitar picks that fell from his pocket into your bed. There were unopened ring pops, because he’d buy you one at the corner store every time you stopped, forever promising that it would be a real ring someday. Your entire relationship was in the box, staring you in the face with a ferocious grin as you recounted the mistakes you made. “Him and I were always different. He had a dream of being in a band. He hated school and everything that came along with it. He played soccer, he loved to have fun, and he smoked cigarettes. He wouldn’t listen no matter how many times I told him it was bad for him. I loved school, I was good at it, and I wanted to go to the best university I could get into. I didn’t drink all that much, and I stayed in more often than not. For three years, it never phased us, and we loved each other no matter how different we were. It still seemed right.”

“Until it wasn’t?”

“Not even then.” You chuckled, pulling out an old Polaroid picture.

As your eyes landed on the two of you, laying in the long grass in the field at the old park, you felt the knife twist in your stomach. He was smiling, the grin lighting up his whole face as he held you in his arms. You were between his legs, your back against his chest and your arms atop his, wrapped around you. You were in his clothes, your hair falling over your face that was nearly washed out from the flash of the camera. You could remember the feeling like he was behind you now, the rattle of his chest as he laughed and the warmth of his body against yours. The deep amber of his cologne lingered in your nose, and the sweetness of his kiss still remained on your lips.

In that moment, you thanked God that Josh was there to take the picture. Even now, even after all the hurt, the memory was so precious to you and you wished so badly to be there one more time, just for a minute.

“We talked about it for a long time, what would happen when I left for school. I knew I was going far away, and he knew he was going to stay here. Maybe if I went to school closer, the outcome would have been different.” You shrugged, acting nonchalantly about one of the thoughts that often plagued your entire life. “We decided long distance wasn’t right for us. I didn’t want to hold him down, and he didn’t want to hold me back. We loved each other so much that we let each other go, believing it was for the best. I can’t speak for him, but for me, it was far from the best. It was the worst, actually.” You explained, looking at a few other Polaroids in the box. “We broke up the night before I went to school. Or the morning of, I guess.” You corrected yourself, your fingers going in search of the only thing you truly wanted to see.

“And that was it? You never talked to him again.”

“No.” You shook your head. “Never again ‘cept for a few days after I got there.” Your fingertips found the hard plastic case, pulling it out from the very bottom of the box. Origami flowers went flying, the ones you made for him but never had the chance to give him, and a few guitar picks fluttered to the floor. “That night, he gave me this.” You flashed it in her direction. She reached out, taking it from your hands so she could read the words written on the disk. “I remember exactly what he said, and it fucking killed me, Mel.”

“Eight songs, Y/N. I sat there for hours, listening to as much music as I could. I sorted through my dad’s old vinyl records, and all of the CD’s Josh and I could find in the house. I searched for lyrics on the internet, I even asked my mom if she had any ideas.” Jake explained, taking a step closer to you. There was a small plastic case in one of his hands, a bushel of hand picked wildflowers in his other, and a look in his eyes that made your heart ache with all of the pain you had been holding back. “This is it; eight songs that tell you exactly how I feel about you. Four that tell you how much I love you, and four that tell you everything you need to know about how I feel about you leaving.”

You recounted the memory aloud, the quiver of sadness in your tone too loud to ignore. “For three months, I listened to this every night to go to sleep. I carried the CD with me everywhere I went, until I came home for Christmas and mom and I decided it was best that I put all of this stuff away. I was torturing myself, loving someone I couldn’t have. That’s why when I met you, I never wanted to leave your side. I was recovering from this, and I had nobody.”

“So he’s the reason you listened to that Pearl Jam song on repeat all of the time?” She asked, thinking back on the state you constantly found yourself in.

“Yeah,” you laughed, nodding as a tear rolled down your cheek. “Black. That was the song.”

“Right, how could I forget?” She chuckled, humming the tune to herself. “I know someday you’ll have a beautiful life, I know you’ll be a star in somebody else’s…” she sang to herself, trailing off as she realized why the words spoke so loudly to you.

“Sky.” You finished, unable to leave it hanging. “But why can’t it be mine, right?” You forced a smile on your face, trying to joke, but both of you knew it was not funny to you.

“Why did you never tell me about him?” She asked, looking at you with sadness in her own eyes. She was grieving the love with you, like a true best friend would.

“Lots of reasons, I suppose.” You sniffled back another wave of tears, your voice now infiltrated with the sadness that once only ravished your heart. It was taking over again, like it did so long ago when you vowed to shut it out. “Guess I didn’t want to scare you away, and I didn’t really want to bring that memory to school with me. The dorm and the apartment walls, all of the buildings…. That sadness never touched that, you know? He was never there, his memory didn’t live in the place like it does here. I thought if I never talked about it, it would never hurt as bad there as it did here, that night.”

“But it did anyway.”

“It did.” You agreed, clearing your throat slightly. “For a really long time. I spent two years thinking of him, dreaming of him. I wanted him so bad, and it never went away with time like all of the Reddit forums said it would.” You laughed at your own stupidity, shaking your head at all the time you spent reading breakup advice from faceless strangers on the internet. “One day, I had to stop. I was my own worst enemy, listening to all the music we used to listen to together, living in the memories at night when I was alone in bed, picturing him beside me, holding my hand. I deleted him off all my social media, and his family, too. I erased all the pictures, and I drank and partied so much that I couldn’t think about anything, let alone him. I studied so much that I dreamt about Shakespeare, and every time I thought of his name, I shoved it so far to the back of my mind that I couldn’t possibly find it again. I forced myself to forget it all, to pretend it never happened so one day, I could believe it.”

“I told myself new memories would replace the old ones, and after a while they did. Christ, when we came here he wasn’t even a passing thought in my head, but I could feel this lingering sadness in the air, looming over my head all of the time. I didn’t get it until now, when I saw the box, and it all came back at once. I shoved it so far down that I tricked my brain into blocking it out, but when it’s in your face like that… it’s hard to keep it out.” You finished, closing your eyes to regain yourself. “That’s why you lost me for a while, I guess.”

“So you haven’t had any contact with this guy? Like, at all? You don’t know what he looks like, where he lives…?”

“Nothing.” You assured her. “If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s ignoring a problem so much that it ceases to exist.”

“But it does exist, and it still hurts.” She explained. “You don’t date, you don’t try to meet guys, you hate the idea of love, and this is why, Y/N. If it’s been six years and you still feel that way, maybe you should reach out.” She offered, looking over the CD once again.

“As if,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes at the idea. “He wouldn’t even remember me, Mel. It’s been so long, I’m sure he’s long moved past us. He’s the type of guy everyone loves, so I’m sure he’s found someone who treats him really well. He deserves that, not the girl from high school who broke his and her own heart.”

“Maybe we should just look at his instagram, just to see what he looks like?” She asked, pulling out her phone.

“No.” You said, reaching out and holding her phone down. “I don’t want to, Mel. I stopped keeping up with him for a reason. All it does is hurt me more.”

“Okay.” She conceded, placing her phone back on the bed. “Since we’re already sad, why don’t we listen to the music? Why don’t you tell me about the songs?”

“Nosy.” You snipped, but shot a playful smile her way.

“Obviously.” She huffed. “My best friend just told me about a boyfriend I’ve never heard of before, who is apparently the greatest love of her life. I want to know everything that I didn’t know I was missing.”

“I don’t know…” you trailed off, eyeing the messy handwriting on the surface of the disk. “I’d just be reopening old wounds. I don’t know if that’s what I should be doing while I’m trying to start my life.”

“Seems like they’re already open, Y/N.” She said, raising an eyebrow. “Just one song?” You watched her face for a moment, your heart racing at the thought of playing that first track. At the same time, an overwhelming sense of calm washed over you at the idea, like an addict finally in reach of a fix. It had been so long since you let yourself enjoy the music that spoke his love for you, and the thought of hearing it again made your heart soar. It had been so long since you felt such an abundance of love like that, and you understood that it couldn’t hurt more than it already was.

“Yeah, okay.” You sighed, carefully placing all the items back in the box. You sat it beside you on the bed, slowly standing to your feet. You grabbed the disk from her hand, navigating through the mess on the floor and plopping down in the computer chair nestled in the corner of your room. You hunched over; searching through the drawers of your desk until you exactly found what you were looking for. “A-ha.” You muttered to yourself, pulling out the old CD player and the speakers you had to go with it. The cords were tangled, wrapping around all of them and knitting together to make the task even more daunting for you. “I haven’t used this in years.” You said, your fingers carefully unraveling the tangled mess of the cords.

“Used it? Y/N, I haven’t even seen one since middle school.” You chuckled, plugging the player into the outlet on the wall beside you.

“I only ever used it to listen to this.” You clarified, wiping the dust from the surface with the bottom of your already dirty t-shirt. You popped the top open, carefully taking the disc from its holder and placing it inside. You shut it, trying to read the faded white print on the black surface to find the play button. Eventually, you hit start, and the air filled with a static silence, the whirring of the machine the only thing filling your ears.

You leaned back in your chair, closing your eyes as you braced yourself for the impact of that first note. Your palms were clammy, your chest tight and your stomach swirling with nausea. Even as horrible as you felt, knowing what was to come, the feeling was comforting, familiar even. You felt it so many times, huddled in that exact chair with your knees pulled to your chest. You felt it in your dorm room, tears clouding your vision as you tried to hide yourself under the covers and disappear from the world. You knew this feeling better than anything else, and you had every scratch and pause on the track memorized so well that you could recite it in your sleep.

Even so, it didn’t seem to stop the wave of grief that washed over you when the first strum of the acoustic guitar filled the air.

You nearly doubled over in your seat, struck with an invisible force that was stronger than anything else. Your bones ached and your body felt heavy, your eyes aching as you squeezed them shut so tightly it made you see stars. The music that filled the room was quiet, but it felt like it was screaming at you, beating you down and berating you for being so foolish.

“Childhood living,

Is easy to do

The things you wanted

I bought them for you.”

Four years old, Barbie doll in hand and chocolate stains visible on your neon green shirt as you stood at the entryway of the kitchen. Your hair was wild, messy from a full day of playing outside. The summer air was sweeter than it had ever been, the color of the grass so prominent in your mind. Dandelion yellow stained your knees from kneeling on the abundant petals in the backyard. The clouds in the sky looked like cotton candy, and you pleaded with your mother to let you stay outside for just a moment longer.

Of course, she picked you up by the arms, scolding you with a smile as she told you that you wouldn’t be able to play if you were hungry. Dinner was waiting for you on the table, your favorite meal to top off the wondrous day of being completely carefree. For dessert, you split an ice cream sundae with your dad, doused in chocolate sauce and rainbow sprinkles. As your mom did the dishes, you watched a cartoon on the couch. When the sound of the water stopped and giggles filled the air, you couldn’t help but investigate, dreading missing out on a moment of fun.

When you peeked into the room, the kitchen table concealing you as you stood at perfect height, you did not see your mom hovering over the sink. Instead, you heard the static hum of the radio, the familiar song playing quietly. Your mother was in the middle of the room, dish towel still in her hand and a blinding smile on her face. Your father stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist and his head nuzzled in the crook of her neck. A smile that matched hers rested on his own lips as they swayed slowly, and he was singing her the lyrics as they passed through the speaker.

Although it was out of tune, off time, and nowhere near as good as Mick Jagger had sounded, it was perfect. To you and your mother, it was the best sound in the whole world, because when your dad sang it, it was full of love.

“Graceless lady

You know who I am

You know I can’t let you

Slide through my hands.”

Eight years old with your little sister by your side, the words passed through your fathers lips, but it wasn’t the same as it used to be. He was tired, withdrawn, singing the song with refrain in his eyes as he watched the hand your mother was holding. The love has lessened, the tune a habit rather than a gift. Things were different, and you chalked it up to age. One day you were certain your father would sing it again, with the very same love in his eyes he used to have.

“Wild horses

Couldn’t drag me away

Wild, wild horses

Couldn’t drag me away.”

The familiar song played through the closed door of your parents bedroom, but it was not framing a sweet moment. It had been on repeat for a day, now, and your father had left late the night before. Something deep in your soul told you he was not in there, nor was he singing it to her. Sometimes, when the music lulled, you could hear a muffled cry pass through the hollow door, cementing the notion in your head for good.

“I watched you suffer

A dull, aching pain

Now you’ve decided

To show me the same.”

At thirteen, you stood at the door of your parents bedroom, a lump in your throat as you watched your mother sleep away another afternoon. Your sister continued asking when your dad would be home, but the longer you stared at the half-empty room, the more you understood that the answer was something she couldn't quite understand. The longer you watched, the more you understood you’d never hear him sing that song again.

“No sweeping exits

Or offstage lines

Could make me feel bitter

Or treat you unkind.”

“Oh, God. Jake, please turn that off.” You pleaded, the melodic sound filling your stomach with dread. He looked back at you, nestled in his bed and safe under his blankets. He turned around in his desk chair, his head cocked to the side as he abandoned his math homework.

“What, you don’t like The Stones?” There was a careful kindness in his tone, wondering where your sudden discomfort came from but nervous to cross a line by asking.

“No, I do, just not this song.” You clarified, your heart racing in your chest as the hum of Jagger’s voice began to fill your ears. You tried so hard to stay calm, not to retaliate and cover your ears so you did not look like a child throwing a tantrum. Instantly, he reached over and lifted the needle from the spinning vinyl, placing it back on the holder. “I’m sorry, I just… I can’t listen to it.” You breathed, feeling a wave of relief wash over you as the song came to an abrupt stop.

“S’okay, sunshine. You don’t have to apologize for anything.” He promised, wheeling over to you as he noticed the discomfort in your eyes. He reached out, brushing your bangs from your eyes in an attempt to comfort you. “Why not?”

“Long story.” You whispered, your head sinking further down into his pillow.

“I always have time to listen to you.” He assured you, his thumb drifting over your cheek. Your eyes fluttered to meet his, the sight immediately calming your mind. You swallowed hard, leaning into his touch ever so slightly.

“My dad… he used to sing this to my mom. It was the best song in the whole world to us for so long.” You explained, fighting the distaste begging to leech into your tone. “They used to slow dance to it in the kitchen, and he’d sing it to us too, when we were sad. Then he fucking left, and mom listened to it over and over again, like it would bring him back. Guess it didn’t work out as well as she hoped it would.”

“I’m sorry, sunshine. I had no idea.” He hummed, his fingernails gently scratching over your scalp in hopes of soothing you.

“S’okay,” your eyes fluttered closed in bliss at the feeling. “Just sucks, ‘cause I used to love the song so much, and now it makes me sick.”

You didn’t understand back then, but now you knew why your mother played it so often. She was hoping it would bring him back, or hoping that it would make her feel close to him again. She was torturing herself in the same way that you tortured yourself with the exact CD you were listening to, then.

“Wild horses

Couldn’t drag me away

Wild, wild horses

Couldn’t drag me away.”

“I have something to show you, sunshine.” Jake's hand in yours felt right, just as it always did. His voice rang through your ears as you walked up the stairs to his bedroom. You had no idea what was awaiting you, but you knew if he had anything to do with it, it would be nothing short of fantastic.

“I know I dreamed you

A sin and a lie

I have my freedom

But I don’t have much time

Faith has been broken

Tears must be cried

Let’s do some living

After we die.”

You couldn’t stop the tears, running like waterfalls down your cheeks as Jake softly strummed at his dads old acoustic. The rasp in his voice paired with the quiver of nervousness made his singing all the more beautiful, and the sentiment behind his actions made your heart swell with joy. He was the most beautiful thing you’d ever laid eyes on, and you couldn’t believe he loved you so dearly.

His playing slowed to a stop, his anxious eyes flickering up to your face. As he noticed the trails of mascara streaked down your cheeks, his stomach dropped, fearful that he hurt you more than helped. You wanted to speak, to commend him for his gracious gesture, but words were failing you. You had never been so full of love in your life, not for anyone or anything, but he continued to amaze you with every day that passed.

“I’m sorry, beautiful. I never wanted to make you cry.” He stood, propping the guitar against his desk as he stepped towards you. His hands reached out, gently swiping away any lingering sadness on your face.

“No, Jake.” You shook your head, still choked up at the sweetness of the moment. “It was beautiful. So, so beautiful.” A small smile crossed his lips, and he crouched down to eye level, dreading overlooking a single moment of time with you. “Nobody’s ever done anything so nice for me.”

“I just… you said you loved the song, but you couldn’t listen to it anymore because it hurt too bad. I wanted to make the song good again, to make it hurt less.” He whispered, his brown eyes seemingly staring into your soul. “I don’t know if it worked, but I’d do anything for you, sunshine. I’ll do whatever I can to make you happy.”

“You do, Jake. You always do.” You felt tears falling from your eyes, but they were for a whole different reason than they were all of the times you heard the song before. He did exactly as he intended, and the song took on a whole different meaning. The bad hurt less, and the memory of Jake singing to you would be something you would never forget. He was everything, and you were so incredibly lucky to have him.

You reached toward, pausing the track before it could finish. Your chest was aching, your shoulders shaking with your tears as you felt Mel’s hands on your shoulders in support. She slid them downwards, and your hands raised in search of hers. Your head fell back, resting on her stomach as you tried to calm yourself down. It hurt the same every time; no matter how many years stood between the initial heartbreak, the thought of losing Jake had always been the worst one ever.

“Tell me about the song.” She whispered, pulling you out of your own head in hopes you’d share the sorrow with her, just to make it a little easier to digest.

With a shaky breath, you recounted the memories that you’d kept locked up for so long, finally allowing someone to help you carry the weight of them. She listened intently to every word you had to say, hanging on to the stories and keeping them as safe as you had the whole time. There was no one in the world you trusted quite like her, knowing that you could confess anything and she’d still extend a helping hand. You were lucky to have her, grateful to call her your best friend, but you knew that even she could not begin to ease the pain from this.

“I just… I wish things were different for us, you know? Like, I always knew we should have been more, that we shouldn’t have ended like that.” You let out a ragged sigh, finishing your retelling with the sentiment that haunted you for so long. “He tried to stay friends, and he tried so hard, but I had to stop. A few days after I got to school, I had to stop talking to him, because I loved him too much. Friends was torture back then, but now I feel stupid for cutting him off. Now I know that having him around would have been better than this.”

“Y/N, you have to reach out to him.” She urged, combing her fingers through your hair. “If it’s been this long and you still feel that way about him, you can’t let it go.” She tied your hair back in a ponytail, keeping it away from your face until you calmed down. Your cheeks were crimson, burning with heat as the sadness ran its course. Your eyes were swollen, your head aching, and you wished it could be that easy.

“After six years, Mel?” You didn’t mean to sound so condescending, but the tone slipped out without a second thought. “We’re totally different people now. I bet he doesn’t even think about me anymore.”

“You don’t know that, though.” She argued her point, squeezing your shoulders ever so slightly. “He could be sitting in his room, talking to his best friend like this. He might still be hurting, too, and maybe he’s scared to reach out because he thinks you forgot about him.” She let the thought hang in the air for a moment, not pressing any further until you responded. You blinked hard, wiping your eyes with the backs of your hands. The coolness of your skin felt nice against your face, bringing you back to earth for a moment. When the silence became too much for her, she spoke again. “You never know unless you try, Y/N. You can’t live the rest of your life wondering. Just reach out, say hi and ask how he’s doing. Even if he’s moved on, at least you’ll know for sure. Once that door is closed, you can move on too. Right now, you’ll be stuck thinking about him and wondering ‘what if’ forever.”

You didn’t want to tell her she was right, mostly because you were too afraid he would be moved on, in love with someone else and happier without you. You wanted it for him, because he deserved it, but you wanted to be the one that made him happy. The thought of someone else loving him made you sick, because you doubted that anyone could ever love him as much as you did. Actually, you doubted that anyone could love anyone as much as you loved Jake.

“I doubt he has the same number, anyway. I just have the one he had in high school.” You shook your head, finding yourself too hopeful already. You needed to shut it down before your heart broke even further.

“Try, Y/N.” Mel urged, unable to drop the topic. She wanted it for you, to see you happy and in love. She always wondered why romance never seemed to move you, and now she knew it’s always been because you were waiting for him. Instead of responding, you hit the rewind button on the player and pressed play again, already yearning to live in the memory of him singing it to you again. A sad smile crossed Mel’s lips, but she gave a curt nod, turning around and continuing to pack and move boxes of already sorted items.

You pulled your knees to your chest, resting your chin atop of them as you listened to the familiar melody. You wondered if maybe his number was the same, and if you reached out, he’d still have your contact saved in his phone. You wanted to know where he ended up, what he was doing and who he was doing it with. You wanted to know him, to hear his voice and have him say your name again. The need was pressing, and it grew harder to ignore the longer the song played.

Could he still feel the same? After this long, did he still think of you from time to time with hurt in his heart and regret in his mind? Was it possible that he was still hung up on you, or were you just an idiot who couldn’t comprehend letting go?

You had so many questions, the same ones that plagued you since the day you left. You didn’t know the answer, and you weren’t even sure if you wanted to.

However, Mel was right.

You would never know unless you tried, and for him, you would do anything. As much as it would kill you to hear how happy he was without you, it would still be better than never talking to him at all. You needed to know the man he grew into, even if it was for a fleeting moment in time. You wanted to know if his hair grew out, if he still played guitar, and if his laugh was still just as sweet as it was back then. You wanted to tell him you graduated, that you finally did it after so long spent talking about it.

You couldn’t waste the rest of your life hung up on a man who loved you when you were young. You couldn’t be eighty years old and still thinking of Jake Kiszka when you tried to sleep at night. More than that, you couldn’t open yourself up to love if you were still so in love with him.

“I’m going to grab something to eat.” Mel said, hovering in the doorway of your room. When you didn’t so much as look her way, she turned towards the stairs and walked out of sight.

You needed to reach out. You needed to try, just like she said. Even if the conversation sealed shut the door you always wished to open again, it would give you closure, and you might finally be able to move on. Right now, moving on was laughable, and it was something you never believed you could do.

Mel was right, and so right that it was impossible to ignore her.

Even if his number changed, or if you were blocked, you would finally know for sure. You took a large gulp of breath as you stood to your feet, Wild Horses still playing softly in the background as you stepped towards your bed. You grabbed your phone from the mattress, unlocking the screen and clicking on your contacts. You gulped down the ball of anxiety stuck in your throat as you selected the name you never thought you’d speak again. There was still a red heart beside his name, something you couldn’t bear to change. You opened a new text thread, the empty screen sending a shiver down your spine as you recounted the endless ‘I love you’s’ once held inside the chat.

Your finger hovered over the keypad, your mind blank as you thought of what to say. There were so many things you always wanted to confess to him, that you were sorry and you missed him, or that you were wrong and never should have left. You wanted to be angry that he let you leave, and to be happy for all the love he gave you that carried you through until that very moment. You wanted to say everything and anything, but it wasn’t right. You couldn’t break the radio silence after so long with something so powerful, but you never knew how to keep it simple when it came to Jake. His name alone caught you in a storm of emotion, and the picture of his face in your mind nearly brought you to your knees.

You began to type, quickly stopping yourself with a shake of your head. It wasn’t right. What were you supposed to start with? How could you rekindle conversation with the only man you’d ever loved, after so long of loving him silently?

You started again, letting out a sigh as the words seemed to come out wrong yet again. You felt like an idiot, but you still stood in place, staring at the screen. Somehow, no matter how stupid you felt, putting the phone down felt wrong. You needed to do it, but you just didn’t know how.

You typed and re-typed the message so many times that your eyes crossed and your head began to spin. Your heart was thudding against your chest so intensely that it began to hurt, and you hadn’t even hit send yet.

“Come on, coward. You can do it.” You huffed, furrowing your brows as you hyped yourself up. “Stop overthinking it.”

And you did; when you stopped thinking, it seemed all the more easy.

You - 4:53pm

Hey, Jake. It’s Y/N. I know it’s been a while, and I’m not sure if this is even your number anymore, but I’m back in Michigan again, for good I think. When I’m in Michigan it always reminds me of you. I hope you’re doing okay, and I hope that this isn’t too weird. It’s strange being home, and I guess I was just thinking of you and wanted you to know that after all this time, you’re still on my mind.

With little hope and a lot of courage, you attached a song from Spotify to the text. You hit send, watching the blue line at the top of the screen slowly begin to slide across, signifying it was much too late to change your mind. It was slower than usual, making you believe he truly may have changed his number, or blocked you at the very least. If he did, you couldn’t blame him, because you’d been tempted to do the same.

Before you could spiral too far, the small chirp let you know that the text was delivered, and the words underneath the bubble read as such. Your heart drummed even faster, and you expected a wave of regret to take over, but it never came. Instead, your mind was calm, a strange peacefulness washing over you at the sight of his name in your phone again. Soon after, the song delivered too, the link turning into a shortcut. The album cover showed in a small square, and next to it showed the name of the song and the artist underneath. On the very opposite side, a small little play circle appeared, letting him preview a snippet before he opened the app.

“Wild horses

Couldn’t drag me away

Wild, wild horses

We’ll ride them someday

Wild horses

couldn’t drag me away

Wild, wild horses

We’ll ride them someday.”

You listened to the song playing over your speakers, your cheeks flushed and your lips upturned into a small smile. You wondered if it was too much, or if he would think you were weird for sending him the song, but deep down you believed that even if he did, some semblance of the man you used to love so dearly continued to remain. Even after all this time, the song would still be important to him, and just the same as back then, even after all this time, not even wild horses could drag you away from him.

TAGLIST: @anythingforjtk @highway-tuna @klarxtr @hollyco @thetroublegetssoloud71 @ageofbajabule @dannys-dream @raceb14 @watchingover-hypegirl @starshine-gvf

[samandcolbyownme]

Based off of this snippet, part one is right here.

Warnings: SMUT18+, unprotected threesome, creampie, oral (fem giving & rec), consensual recording/photographing, onlyfans!reader x Solby, swearing, choking, biting, hair pulling, just filth

Word Count: little over 2k | unedited

Please read part one, I’ll give ya a kiss 💋

You gave Colby a glance, his thumb stroking along your leg as he nods. You set you glass down and lean forward towards the blonde across from you, “So Sam..”

“So, y/n?” He tilts his head, leaning in towards you, “What’s up?”

You tilt your head, “Have you seen the comments on my recent Instagram post?”

He shakes his head, “I have not, no.”

Colby hands Sam his phone and your eyes focus on him, watching how his body tenses up as he reads over the comments that mention him.

He hands Colby his phone back and looks at you, “I can’t sit here and say that I don’t want to.”

“That’s exactly what I’m asking you to do.” You blurt out, “I know you know that we do the whole, OnlyFans, thing. I also know.” You look up at him, “That you could go anywhere else when we’re filming, or just fucking around, but you don’t.”

You lick your lips and smirk as Colby leans forward, “Say it, baby. Tell him what you want.”

Sam’s focus is on you, “Yeah, baby.” He smirks, “Say it.”

“I want you to fuck me, too.”

Sam smirks, chewing on his lip as he nods, “I can do that.”

“We also don’t have to re-“ You’re cut off by Sam, “Y/n, sweetheart. Colby gave me the whole rundown, but I will do whatever you want me to do.”

Sam’s words made you wet and Colby could tell by your thighs tensing and pressing together under his hand.

He chuckles, “I think dinner is also done.” He looks from Sam to you then back, “You’re getting her going already, Sam.” Colby gives your thigh a squeeze, leaning in, “I can’t wait to watch him fuck you.”

You whimper at his words and he presses his lips to yours, “Hold on baby, just a little bit longer, okay?”

You nod, letting out a sigh as you look up at Sam, who immediately puts a smirk on your face, “Who sent you the screenshot from my page?”

He tilts his head, “Promise you won’t get mad?”

You roll your eyes, “Please, whoever took it paid me for it so.”

Sam’s face drops, “Wait? They paid money to see that?” Colby chuckles, “I had the same reaction at first, but just wait until you bend her over.”

Sam’s cheeks heat up, along with yours as luckily, the waitress brings the bill over which means you can pay and get the hell back to the hotel.

——

“Fuck.” Sam groans as you bite down on his neck, continuing to walk backwards with the guidance of his hands on your hips, “I can’t wait be between those legs.”

Sam mumbles as he slides his hands up to roughly cup your cheeks, “..to fucking taste you.” He crashes his lips on yours and you reach up to pull your dress off your shoulder but Colby stops you, “Wait baby, let me get your camera before you do that.”

You look over at him, nodding as you watch him bend down to get out the camera and tripod.

San continues to kiss down your neck, whispering in your ear, “I stayed home because I love to listen to those pretty sounds you make for Colby.”

You moan at his words and his hands slide up and down your arms, “And when you’re doing stuff to yourself.” He hums lowly, “Thought about just coming over there and getting it over with.”

You moan at his words, “Fuck, Sam.” You pull him in by his neck and kiss him, “I need you so bad.”

“Whenever you’re ready, baby.” Colby gives the go ahead and your hands are instantly tearing away at his shirt, his hands moving to free your boobs from the hug of your dress, “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

He pushes your dress down over your body and kisses up your thighs. Your hand goes to the back of his head as he grows closer to your naked cunt.

You didn’t wear panties on purpose, and Colby made it a point, more or less to get Sam comfortable quicker, “Fuckin’ slut. Not wearing any panties.”

Colby clicks his tongue, “It’s like you wanted this to happen, didn’t ya, sweetheart?”

You whimper out as you nod your head, “Yes.”

“You gonna be a slut for me, baby, huh?” Sam lifts your leg, placing it to hook over his shoulder. Your lips part as you watch Sam below you, “Yes, baby. I’ll be a slut for you.”

He leans in, slipping his tongue against your clit and you gasp, fingers fighting around his hair, “F-fuck.” You whimper, feeling his hands pull you towards him more.

You stand on your tip toe, reaching out to put your hand on the wall for support as his tongue slips between your folds, “S-Sam, oh, f-fuck.”

“Does that feel good, baby?” Colby asks as he moves closer to get a better shot as Sam on his knees for you.

“So good.” You breathe out, pulling Sam’s hair, which earns a groan from him. He pulls his head back, standing up to walk you backwards.

Your back barely hits the bed before Sam’s tongue is pushing between your folds fully, causing you to arch your back, “Oh my god, yesyesyes.”

You look down at him, brows furrowed as you feel close already, “F-fuck.” You moan out loudly, “Don’t stop! S-Sam, fuckfuck.”

“Cum’in already, baby? You just have been so needy tonight, huh?” Colby shows your face to the camera as he brushes hair from it, “Look at me, baby.”

You opened your eyes, moaning out as Sam guides you through the end of your high.

“Sam making you feel good, baby?” Colby asks, leaning back to watch you from under the camera. You nod, “I’d feel better if I had you, too, daddy.”

Colby groans as he brings the camera back to show you undoing his pants, “Fuck, baby. Anything you want.”

You glance down as Sam pulls away, and Colby hands Sam the camera, “You have the best angle.” Sam nods, taking the camera as he looks at you, “You taste so fucking good, y/n.”

You bite your lip, smirking as you feel the head of his cock tap against your clit, “Turn so your head is at the edge of the bed for me.”

Colby moves, standing up to watch you lay down. He looks down at you and you smirk up at him, hand reaching to pull his jeans down as you whine, “Colby.”

He smirks down at you, biting his lip at he glances up to watch Sam’s cock slip inside of you. Sam records himself pushing into you slow, groaning out, “Fuck, you feel even better.”

“Sam.” You whimper, “P-please move.” You beg as your eyes land on Colby’s cock. He kneels down on the bed and you lift your head, eagerly welcoming the tip between your lips.

You moan around him as Sam’s thrusts speed up, eyes fluttering shut as Colby pushes your head up and down on his cock, earning a gag from you when he pushes down a little too far.

“Fuck.” Colby’s grip tightens on your hair, “How’s she feel, Sam?”

Sam groans in response, pushing his cock all the way into your pulsating cunt, “The best pussy I have ever fucking come into contact with.”

You moan as Colby lifts your head, “She’s a fucking beauty, just like I told you.” Colby bends down, hand moving to your throat as his lips move to yours, “Being such a good girl for us.”

You whimper, an arm moving around his neck as he moves to crouch on the floor by your head, watching as Sam continues to fuck you, “Doin’ so fucking well.”

He turns your head, kissing your lips as Sam’s thrusts slow down. Colby pulls away and looks at Sam, “Where do you want her?”

“I want her taking both of us.” Sam smirks, leaning down to kiss you. Colby takes the camera from Sam and his hands immediately find your body, gripping and squeezing.

Colby sets the camera up to angle at all three of you before moving to lay under you. You moan loudly, arching your back against his chest as you feel him sleep into your pussy.

“You’re so fucking wet.” Colby whispers, groaning as you roll your hips under the touch of his fingers on your clit.

Sam moves to in between your legs, hands resting on your knees as he watches Colby’s cock go in and out if you at your own pace, “Fuck.” Sam spits into his hand, groaning lowly as he coats his cock with it.

“You want Sam in your pussy, too, baby? Want us both to fill you?” Colby asks, sliding his hands to your thighs. You nod, gasping and moaning out as you feel Sam’s cock trying to squeeze into you with Colby’s.

You moan louder the further in he gets, the pain quickly becoming pleasure as Colby’s fingers start drawing circles on your clit, “Relax, baby. Doing so well.”

Sam leans over and grab the camera before getting into a steady rhythm with Colby.

The feeling and knowing they’re stretching you has you already in the brink of orgasm. You squeeze your walls, arching your back as you let out a loud string of moans, “Fuckfuck fuck!”

“Let it out, baby. Tell us how good you feel.” Sam groans, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum soon.” He grips your hip with his hand that isn’t holding the camera and Colby tightens his arm around your shoulders, “I’m already there, and she is too.”

He pecks your cheek and you moan, spilling over into the pleasure. You moan even louder when you feel their grip on you tighten and their cocks twitch in unison.

Sam leans back, still keeping his cock into you and you whimper as you feel him slip out after getting the camera shot.

You gasp as Colby slips you up off of his cock and Sam groans, “Look at how messy you are.” Sam drags cum back up and pushes it back inside of you, “Fuck.”

After a few seconds, he stops recording and helps you sit up, moving off of Colby so he can stand, “I’m going to start the shower.”

You nod and look at Sam, “Well, how was it?” He wraps his arms around you and nods, “You have no fucking idea.”

You smile and stand up, arms still around him, “You could have asked sooner, you know.”

He scoffs, “Well I didn’t, but now I do.”

——

The next day after uploading that video, you woke up to everyone’s comments being blown up, “They know.” You mumble as you scroll through your comments, “Apparently I’m fucking both of you because I can.”

You laugh and Colby lays a hand on your ass as he leans over to look, “I mean, that’s kind of right. Partially.”

“It was bound to happen at some point, I mean, come on. Look at her.” Sam motions to you and you smirk, “Thank you.”

You go back to reading and you can’t help but giggle at some of the cute but funny ones.

I bought the video, okay. And let me tell you, the way they look at her… fuck I need that in my life

Y/n is seriously THAT girl

Who else came from their web browsers?

I literally love this girl, like yes girl. Fuck them both!!

Ok nah, now she’s just BRAGGING

“Did you bring any of your outfits?” Colby asks and you roll over to face him, glancing at Sam, “I may have brought one or two..”

“Get them.” Colby nods and you get out of bed, walking over to get the outfits from your suitcase, and before you even hold them up, Sam makes a choice, “School girl.”

You smirk, looking from Sam to Colby. Colby smirks, shrugging his shoulders, “I guess school girl it is.”

——

Surprise! I hope this was up to your standards! Please let me know how you liked it! Love you tons! Thank you for reading!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[finniestoncrane]

General!Harley x GN!Reader, word count: commission: yippee!! thank you @unlucky-words for the treat of getting to write for harley again!! reader and harley have reuinted finally after meeting in college. now there's no criminal activity in the way of them hitting it off finally 🩷 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: fluff and flirting!!

Sometimes, the best place to come to feel alone was a busy bar on the weekends. Where you could get a drink, people watch, and feel assured that no one was going to interrupt the loner in the corner from whatever it was they were thinking over silently.

Not that night though. That night was not a solitary affair.

"Shut the fuck up!"

The shrill voice rang out over the top of the crowd, parting them like waves as the small but powerful source of the noise began to barrel towards you.

"This is like, kismet or somethin'!"

Before you could quite get your bearings, you were no long quietly sipping your drink at the table in the corner. Instead, you were being accosted, an immediately recognisable figure approaching your table, one you knew wasn't going to leave in a hurry, and not without a lot of talking first. And you weren't the least bit bothered by that. If it had been anyone else, you would have been. But not her, never her.

"Harley! Wow!"

You wanted to ask how she'd been, but you knew. It was impossible not to know. She was at the centre of most of the news in Gotham, even now, long after her highly publicised and very volatile break up with the Joker. Asking her what she had been up to or how she was feeling these days were both minefield subjects. And she seemed to know this herself as she began laughing and waved off your expression, surprise, shock and confusion all weighing heavily on your features.

"Yeah, yeah, I know! What's a gal like me doing in a reputable establishment such as this one? I could ask the same about you, y'know."

She elbowed your side, pushing you over so she could ease her way into the long bench seating beside you. Once she was close enough, she immediately pressed her body into yours, holding you in a hug so tight that her arms around you felt like a cage, her sweet smelling hair in your face.

"So! How have you been?"

Trying to avoid too much of anything that might sound like bragging, considering you were talking to someone who had gone through the worst and had been incarcerated several times since you had last been in touch with her, you filled Harley in on what you'd been doing since your time together at Gotham University.

She listened intently, so enthusiastic, asking questions, prying a little. You knew to expect that though. You knew Harley well, having gone through your doctoral programmes together. You'd seen her at her best and her worst, and everything in between.

"You don't gotta ask me how I've been doing, I'm sure that's everybody's news by now. But I can tell you the juicy stuff none of them know."

She winked, nudging you with her elbow again, an exaggerated smile as she tapped her nose. Instead of divulging any information that might have you on a list somewhere, she instead shared all of the good news from the past few months. Her time with the Birds of Prey seemed to really be good for her, and the excitement as she spoke about this new chapter of her life was palpable. You were happy for her, smiling along as she enthusiastically detailed her new apartment and what kind of stuff she was hoping to do with her new friends.

It felt like no time had passed between you both at all. Everything felt so easy with her, and it always had. There was no difficulty in talking to her, partly because she could have kept a conversation going in an empty room, but also because she made you so comfortable that the usual nerves and social anxiety that could plague a conversation just dissipated.

"I gotta be honest with you, though... I've missed ya."

"You have? You've been so busy though, I didn't think you'd have time to miss anyone, let alone me."

"Are you kidding!?"

She slapped your arm, a playful gesture, but with her surprising strength behind it, it kind of stung a little. Sensing that she might have been a bit too rough, she placed her palm against you, stroking your arm softly as she smiled. The gentle expression seemed so different to how she had been the rest of the night. It was genuine, vulnerable almost. A glimpse into her true self. The one you had spent long nights with in the library, crying and laughing together.

"Y'know, I always knew you'd be the one who did it right. I think that's why I missed you so much. You kept me on the straight and narrow, and then I took a big left turn into complete chaos."

You laughed as she did, although a sudden pang of guilt crossed over your mind. What if you had been able to pull her back? Would she be different? You didn't have time to dwell on that nasty little 'what if', however, as Harley was grabbing your hand and looking into your eyes with a strange sincerity.

"Not your fault or mine. Shit happens, huh? But... if it didn't seem too much like I was piggybacking on your good vibes... maybe we could, like, start fresh or somethin'?"

It took you a moment to reply. You were too busy thinking about how much fun you had with Harley, and how much you potentially could have now that you had been reunited with her.

"It can't be that hard to decide... you worried I might make you put on some clown makeup and rob a bank?"

You weren't. But who knew? If Harley asked, maybe you would.

"I'd like that Harley. The... start over thing! Not the circus themed heist."

She leaned in and placed a soft kiss to your cheek, standing up from the table and leaving you with a card, her number hastily scribbled onto it.

"Good. It's a date then, sweetie!"

[rowanraven08]

So I just need to fucking rant about my boys being stuck in the ‘puters. CAUSE MAN DO I HAVE THOUGHTS. Have probably said some of this before, but not all.

So I’m thoroughly convinced that they’ve been properly coded in, Sergey Ushanka style, and also based off that statement, there’s no doubt in my mind that it hurts for them. I know this is a different universe, but unless computer folks are a common thing here, why would the plot give them anything less than more trauma? But I’m actually kinda concerned about how they’ll be once/if they get out?? Like aside from the trauma of it even, Tessa Winters said you can’t code people in the way people really are, and I’m kinda worried that through the whole thing that they might be different, or have lost a little bit of themself, the way that if you put something through google translate to many times it comes out all messed up, mostly with the same meaning, but words have still changed.

Other than that even, how the hell is Jon gonna cope/currently coping with not being omniscient?? I imagine going from knowing almost everything to having to seek out the information yourself again would be a huge hurdle. Even if now he has the equivalent of what Elias could do, seeing out of any eye, but instead just seeing out of any camera, that would be so disorienting. Never mind the fact they’re in an alternate universe.

The whole thing just makes me so sad, they can’t communicate clearly, are clearly trying tooth and nail to help and to get the OIAR gang to understand, stuck in this nonexistence that is probably excruciating, and no one except probably Colin and Celia even knows they exist. (I’m operating under the assumption Celia knows what’s up, she’s a smart girl she knows this isn’t a coincidence) But Colin clearly fucking hates them, Sam is only just starting to realize the computers are listening, and Celia doesn’t actually seem to be trying to help them, the only thing we know about her research is that she was looking into alternate universes and time travel sort of stuff, and that now she’s looking into alchemy. My boys are SCREAMING to be heard and no one will listen.

Like what will they even do? Worst case scenario, they’re stuck like that forever. Best case scenario, they get out, and somehow manage to get home (unlikely in my opinion) only to be met with a world still rebuilding, where everyone hates them. Last scene in TMA? Literally Melanie, Georgie, and Basira talking about how it’s better off they can’t find Jon, and they’re right,

“I mean, I just don’t think people would exactly be understanding. You remember what happened when they found Simon Fairchild?”

“And he’s not just some powerless left-behind avatar, you know? We’re talking about ‘The Archivist’.”

People would absolutely kill Jon if he came back, and they knew who he was, and I think being able to fly under the radar isn’t an option seeing as he literally haunted people’s dreams for a while. Who’s to say he could even stay alive in a world without the fears? Death might finally catch up to him, the exhaustion, everything. I don’t think going back is an option for them.

Maybe for Celia, if it’s even possible. But I think at this point she’d be happier in Protocol universe than Archives. She couldn’t even remember her original name in late s5, and didn’t remember Martin, she seemed to have lost at least a good portion of her memory if not all. If that didn’t come back after the apocalypse, she has more actual connection to Protocol, the cult being her only real connection to Archives. Maybe she’s trying to get back just because of principle, she’s not considering if that’s really what she wants because it’s the clear next step. But I don’t think she’d be able to leave Jack behind. I don’t even think she really is his proper mother, I’m guessing she somehow took other Celia’s (Lynne’s) identity, and just took over caring for Jack. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t love him.

I really do hope Jon and Martin get out of the computer, it’ll be so hard for them to deal with everything, but maybe if they stayed in Protocol they could still build a life together.

Some other random stuff:

So I went through, and found (I think) all the times we hear the jmj. error.

Ep 3 we get an error, which actually starts working when Colin threatens it, and it starts up with a statement from our buddy Norris, and I actually find it kinda amusing to imagine Martin being scared into reading the statement by the frustrated IT guy.

We also get an error in ep 5, after Gwen asks about the German IT guy before Colin. Which a.) why is she asking about him, b.) if I’m right about the errors being an attempt at communication, why do they think the guy’s important? C.) I had thought before that the German bit of code could be Jonah or something since he may have known German? But pretty sure that was too speculative, it makes more sense for it to have just been the German IT guy. D.) he’s mentioned as having a bunch of tattoos, which so far has not meant good things.

Ep 17 which I talked about in a different post, where the error lasted long enough for Gwen and Alice to nearly talk about stuff, only starting up again once they end that bit of the conversation without actually talking about it

And then ofc in 19 when Alice won’t listen to Sam about the computers listening.

I don’t think I missed any, but I might have? So if anyone notices one I missed lemme know please

Also only just realized a few days ago that jmj. isn’t an ACTUAL error, I know Colin says ep 3 it doesn’t mean anything, but I had actually taken that as Colin just being frustrated, and hadn’t read into. Jmj doesn’t even fucking exist, my guess is that it stands for Jon Martin Jonah?

Also what’s everyone’s thoughts on Teddy? Because that man is getting kinda suspicious. Why does he keep showing up? He works into this somehow. Also why doesn’t he actually want to talk to Alice? She’s high energy and not very serious, but it sounds like the guy properly ghosted her, keeps lying about how they’ll hang out more, or how he’ll text her back, could just be him being a bit of a dick, or maybe she did something to kinda deserve it, but it’s could be he’s trying to keep her at a distance to keep her safe? Especially if he is already wrapped up in this crap.

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s2 episode 4 thoughts

i thought this episode sounded interesting! the plot was kinda: wasn't it fucked up when the vietnam war happened? and i was sitting here like, yeah, quite famously it was pretty fucked up. still, an interesting exploration into trauma and the american role of imperialism

the first thing i wrote was "a lot of people in this show fall asleep watching the tv but personally i have never done that". am i immune to the Curse or something?

so this guy who is a sleep doctor sees a fire and he calls the fire department right away, and everyone is evacuating, and we see a dude in the hallway with a suspicious smile and an even more suspicious scar across his neck. i am used to the episode structure by now, so i knew this was our mystery man of the week.

but the firemen get to the burning fellow's house and there is no fire! despite it looking so real to him that he actually burned to death... it's not there! well huh! must be our mystery man can psychically project fire

cutscene to mulder's place and it again looks like an entirely new set for his apartment. again, i ask, i'm not crazy, right?? can someone else confirm that this is an entirely different space than what we saw before?

(i hope we don't see scully in a new space as well- i thought her apartment was so cute in s1)

he gets a newspaper and a tape of the call dropped off at his door so he runs to skinner and begs with his big sad wet eyes to please let him take the case. and skinner is like maybe. but go transcribe a bunch of wiretaps first. so THAT is why he's always listening to weird stuff!

BUT WAIT! who enters our fair scene...? but a NEW CHARACTER? he is a guy who looks like he crawled out of a frat house where he majored in lacrosse and business... he introduces himself as alex and says that this is HIS case... mulder is PISSED he's all "i work alone >:(" but he can't shake the dude off... hmm.

(i recall seeing a post about people slash shipping mulder with a character in s2- i saw this post way before i started watching the show, so i only noted it in my passing interest of fandom history- and i'm wondering if this is the fellow they were referring to. in the same post i saw mulder in a speedo which i guess we'll get to in time)

scully's back at the academy!!! teaching another autopsy class! boy they must have a steady stream of bodies coming in for this. but an urgent call is coming from a "george hale" and she leaves class to go answer...

and it's mulder!!!!! he has a code name!!! he asks her to fly up to new york and do an autopsy and she's like "i'm in class til 4:30" and he's like "that's fine, we'll wrap it up for you and you can come up at 5!" and she sighs and. agrees.

now. again. this was shocking to me. mulder cannot have anyone else draw his blood or do an autopsy it HAS to be his friend scully. and she WILL get on a flight and do it. this is SICK and TWISTED how she will do anything for him.

mulder was being a real jerk to alex and alex said "i don't appreciate being ditched like a bad date" and to my shock and dismay i found myself agreeing with this new character... mulder WAS being unreasonable... i mean we knew he's been moody lately but this was downright hostile

(mulder walks in while scully puts an organ into a scale) "spleen or pancreas?" "stomach" <- LMAO his ass did NOT pass anatomy!

and they're all so smiley and happy to see each other when. scully sees this man behind him. and her smile fades SO fast.

(he tries to shake her hand but given that her hands are covered in stomach she wisely brushes him by. it may have seemed like a diss but i assume he doesn't want gore on his hands)

alex is GAGGING over the body (me too) so mulder gets realllllll close to scully to block out his amateur hour buffoonery...

(y'all need to not be that close and looking at each other in such a manner in front of a dead guy... or do it more for my sake)

she's whispering that it seems his body believed he burned to death despite there being no burns on him!

we see another guy with a same scar on his neck as the first!!! he knows the first guy and it seems initially that their reunion is wholesome... until preacher (scar man one) admits to killing the sleep doctor... and then things get... wild

"holy fuck", i mumbled to myself while also writing down the same phrase in my notes, as a blood soaked family appeared in the room, shooting the character we just met for his crimes. that escalated with an extreme quickness. it was clear that whatever traumas he had inflicted upon others in vietnam were being returned in equal measure via the psychic force of this preacher character

then we go back to mulder and alex, who i thought was handling mulder's hater energy quite well, all things considered. but little did i know what was to come...

so sleep doctor, the guy who just died, and preacher all knew each other... interesting... they were stationed at basic training together...

we get a visual on mulder's new source after deep throat's passing! he says he has no desire to be there, and that their mutual friend deep throat died for what he believed in, which he does not want to do. which is of course totally fair. at the end of the day the FBI is just a paycheck for some of these folks.

the sleep doctor was revealed to be doing experiments to make super advanced soldiers who don't need sleep so maybe that gives you the power to kill people magically. we can't really rule it out.

preacher then makes two cops kill EACH OTHER with his sorcery

back to scully cam <3 she's got her glasses on at the computer <3 she's got little yellow earrings in that look like flowers <3 and she thinks its so cool that they cut part of this guy's brain out and now he hasn't slept in 24 years... nerd

they're on the phone with each other and it is SO SAD because why. why can't they just be together! it's not fair. she says it sounds like his new partner is working out and he's like yeah he's okay...

"must be nice to not have someone poking holes in all your theories" "yeah, no idea how i put up with you for so long" and they're smiling into the phone while saying this

now, i won't lie. this scene, of all the scenes, was the first to bring tears to my eyes in the course of my streaming this show. because now we have seen what they'll do for each other and they're TAUNTING me by dangling it in front of my face. and i cannot stand it. i feel sick at the thought.

anyway back to mulder and his new partner. who i feel is too good to be true because he's willing to believe spooky mulder's theories. but they found another guy who also had the sleep surgery and he tells them that they went on a rampage committing atrocities in vietnam which was. very heavy for the alien show. but it is something that americans often pretend just didn't happen so i thought it was interesting that the idea of accountability was being explored in fiction.

so there's one more guy involved with the sleep surgery, and he's coming into town, so alex and mulder have to sprint down to the station and try and find him. they're really giving it a sprint, too. mulder is a track star. don't think i've forgotten

and mulder does see the guy they're looking for but preacher is behind him and shoots mulder! he falls to the ground! no, i yelled to my screen! not another bullet in mulder!

... but he gets up. the whole thing was a trick of preacher! it never actually happened!

alex is like dude wtf. and this is where he says "i want to believe" and this where i made the very astute note "i don't trust this guy, sorry"

so finally they find preacher still alive, and mulder tells alex to help out his victim, while mulder runs off to find him. mulder sees how much pain he is in, and tells him that maybe his pain can lessen if he testifies about what was done to him, and it seems they've come to an understanding...

until alex enters, pulls his gun up, so preacher also pulls his gun up, and alex and shoots him! preacher is dead

mulder looks deeply upset by this. he tells alex that he did the right thing, but you can tell he doesn't believe it in the slightest. i would venture to guess that this is when all the trust he had begun to place in alex vanishes. he seems entirely deflated at the unnecessary loss of life.

he goes back to the car and notices someone stole the secret files that his informant gave him, and he punches the car. this is simply too many L's for one day, and i sympathize.

but scully's freaking out too, because her office was broken into and all her stuff looked through! so what in the name of hell is going on here?!?!? ah, i realize, it is this alex fool... "i know ur related somehow" i wrote ominously in my quotes

and boy, i was right! the narrative the writers were going for was not lost on me! because remember skinner's old sidekick the cigarette guy? and how they had a sort of breakup moment? well, alex is reporting to him, and they have the file he stole from mulder!!!!!

alex says that scully is a "big problem" to which i say: keep talking like that, you overgrown varsity jock, and you're gonna have a big problem with my fucking hands catching your throat

anyway, interesting episode. i didn't want to like alex and then i did because i felt bad for him for being subjected to mulder's attitude and then i hated his guts by the end and reluctantly admitted to myself that mulder's crankiness was justified. i hope he won't stick around for long but i have a feeling he will.

also, they need to stop taunting me by dangling a real mulder and scully reunion in front of my head and then ripping it away. i had TEARS! in my eyeballs! i was sighing wistfully! it was sick!!!!!! this is my free time i'm spending here pining after these fools! it's me, the fan, asking for fan service!!!

[seramilla]

Another idea for homophobic heaven au where the elders have Sera try to get Carmilla to reveal who her lover is. Sera who both out of fear and not wanting to go against whatever Carmilla said hasn’t reveled it to them. The elders are outside the cell listening to them as Sera goes into to talk to Carmilla who has suffered. Sera who is willing to get in trouble if it means helping Carmilla tells her to tell the truth about your love and she would want you to be safe to keep the elders from figuring out it’s her and Carmilla telling Sera that they would punish her and I love her too much to do that. It ends with no progress and Sera in tears the elders think because she’ll lose her friend

"I would like to see the prisoner."

If the guards standing watch over Carmilla's cell question Sera's presence at the Elder's jail, they don't voice as much. Looking at one another briefly, the guards move their weapons out of the way and stand aside. Sera enters standing tall and at attention, betraying none of the anxiety and panic that's coursing through her body at that moment.

Carmilla's cell is easy to find. She's the only one being held prisoner. Very few in Heaven test the limits of what would make them end up in this place. Where she's being imprisoned is right next to the entrance, her cell encased with bars infused with angelic steel. Even touching the bars would be quite painful for an angel. Based on the burn markings across the metal, Sera can tell Carmilla has already tried to do so, in multiple places across the expanse of her prison, and failed.

Carmilla paces around her enclosure, as if she hasn't been practically beaten bloody to the point of collapse. It's just like Carmilla to not show weakness. Even to her own detriment, when all else is hopeless. It's one of the things Sera loves most about her.

"You came," Carmilla says. It's curt, and to the point. Sera's not certain she'd have the energy to say much else.

Sera wants to go right up next to the bars, hug Carmilla desperately through them, and stroke her face, and tell her everything will be all right. Unfortunately, the guards are right outside. They would notice the two angels embracing immediately through the little window at the entrance.

Also, she doesn't want to be burned like Carmilla. Walking out with scorch marks would give her away just as much as a hug would.

"Of course I did," Sera says, with as much composure as she can. "How could I not? Carmilla...what have they done to you?"

Carmilla laughs, but it's pained. "I tolerated the 'torture' they put me through. I thought the Elders were made of stronger stuff than this. They must think I'm weak. They went easy on me."

Sera walks up to the bars. As close as she can, without touching.

"Carmilla. You need to...tell them the truth. There's a chance they might let you go. You could get a reduced sentence."

Carmilla smiles, and huffs. Doing her best not to betray herself or Sera to the guards who are almost certainly listening outside.

"And what? Have my...my lover suffer the same fate? I don't think so. Not happening."

"I can help you!" Sera says, getting much too close to the bars than she should be. The steel reacts to her angelic presence, vibrating at the force of her angelic abilities, but not harming her. Yet. "I can advocate for you better out there, than in here!"

Carmilla stands. She also moves toward the bars, until they're practically within touching distance, the gentle hum of the bars vibrating in response to two angelic beings standing so close. Carmilla flinches slightly. It's muscle memory, at this point.

"No," Carmilla says, without further preamble. Then, looking at Sera with all the words she cannot voice aloud, telling her how she really feels with her eyes only, and that the love she has for her is not worth sacrificing Sera for a lesser sentence, Carmilla backs away slowly, and goes to lie down on the pathetic excuse for a cot they've provided for her.

"Carmilla!" Sera says, standing much too close. The cloth of her sleeves singes a little bit, and she pulls her arms away quickly, before her hands burn. "Please! Let me help you! I--"

"Out of the question," Carmilla retorts, lying down now, turned away from Sera, so the Seraphim can no longer see her face. "Goodbye, Sera."

Sera waits until she's outside of earshot of the prison before she breaks down. She falls to her knees, tears falling from both eyes like twin waterfalls. She wails. Loudly, longingly, for the woman she loves. Knowing that their fate is never to see one another again. Carmilla will fall. She is as good as dead, at this point. She doesn't know how she'll ever find happiness again.