#I managed to solve the problem though. By changing brushes

[nomadic-star]

Insert cheesy eye related one-liner here

[seresinhangmanjake]

Different is Better

Tyler Owens x Reader

Summary: Javi invites your ex back with Storm Par amidst the flirtation between you and Tyler. 

Notes/Warnings: This was a combination of requests, so it's not exactly what everyone asked for, but I got it as close as I could, sp hopefully it satisfies in some ways. Allusion to smut. Cursing probably. Scott sucks (sorry to the Scott lovers), Javi sucks a little too (sorry to the Javi lovers).

Words: 2850

Tyler Owens Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

The second the Storm Par team finishes settling on the schedule for tomorrow, you remove yourself from the rest of the chasers in the parking lot, Wranglers included, and press your back into the outer wall of the motel. Perfectly out of sight and free to feel how you want without judgment.

You can’t breathe around him. You can’t think properly. And damn him for fucking loving it. Damn the smirk that slices into your skin. Damn fucking Javi for requesting his participation on the team after swearing up and down that he wouldn’t. Damn him for not warning you, forcing you to spend the last half-hour since his arrival in wild discomfort.

It had been so good without him. The best chasing you’d done in years. Relaxing, free from tension despite the chaos of rolling into the heart of unpredictable weather. In his absence, you chased with excitement; you chased with that tingly zingy feeling in your gut; you chased with a pounding heart, with hands shaky not from nerves but from raw, untainted energy shooting throughout your entire body. 

The last two months of chasing renewed your love of the craft and proved more than anything that Scott has been—and still is—a soul-sucking, life-draining leech….to you, anyway. 

But everyone already loves him, just short of instantly obsessed with him, especially the females of the group who neglect that ‘award-winning’ personality he’s managed to display in only thirty-two minutes. Shamefully, it almost makes you wish the team Javi assembled had fewer young college girls and a heck of a lot more mature, determined women. They would easily see past his looks and recognize that his intelligence does not surpass that of anyone else on the team. He is not some rare, fascinating, genius savior who has come to solve all of the data-collecting problems the team’s been having; he’s just an extra helping hand that, frankly, you firmly believe you don’t need. 

But no…as has been the case each time you’ve worked together since you ended your little college fling—or whatever the fuck it was—he gets to be Mr. Perfect, and you’re stuck as the angsty bitch who whines over him being here. 

“So…that’s the guy, huh?” Tyler asks as he rounds the corner and joins you under the cover of near-darkness. 

He practically shines under the damaged streetlamp’s thin, flickering light. You’re not looking at him, but you don’t have to be to see that much clearly. He glows in your peripherals, and with another step closer to you, your heartbeat stumbles within your ribcage. 

Tyler is the one thing you credit for reviving you. What started as a less-than-friendly rivalry changed when you accepted a challenge to chase with his crew one day, and though Javi was displeased, you were too curious about Tyler’s methods to turn him down. 

With one ride in his truck, the spark you thought had long died reignited. Now you have a respect for Tyler that the rest of your team does not. Respect…and a bit more. 

Though you would never abandon your team, you became increasingly hooked on the idea of chasing with Tyler again, and it was so stupidly obvious. And with that obviousness, an unspoken essence of sorts developed between you. A forbidden attraction you’re both aware of but have yet to fully act on, though not for lack of trying.

You take turns almost breaking that final barrier—heavy breathing, noses nearly brushing, lips a hairs-width away from connecting, but something always gets in the way: his team, yours, the weather. But not this time. Cock-block of the day? Scott Miller. 

Tyler’s eyes stay on your cheek as he stuffs his hands into his front jean’s pockets. “I didn’t know that was your type.”

When you look at Tyler, your brows knit at the disappointment on his face. He offers a smile, but it’s far less convincing than what he is capable of, like he didn’t even bother trying to give you one of his good ones. And you’ve seen a good smile from Tyler Owens. It can knock anyone off their feet. 

“It isn’t,” you tell him as you turn your attention back to the miles of grass in front of you. At night, under such little light, the eye gets tricked and the blades blend into a vast span of blackness, like a giant hole in the ground just a few feet away. One you might consider jumping into it if you could. 

“I mean, it was,” you continue, “but not anymore.”

He nods. “You have to work close with him?” he asks, though he already knows the answer.

“Unfortunately.”

Tyler blows out a breath. His hand runs through his hair before his head falls back against the brick wall of the motel, eyes closed and chin tilted toward the night sky. 

“Fuck,” he mutters. 

“Yea.”

Cicadas fill the following silence. Lightning bugs sprinkle throughout the space around you, thriving in the intense humidity that adds a thin sheen to your skin. You can see him thinking. Questioning. His fingers tap against his clothed thigh and your stomach clenches with dread. The last thing you want—the thing that would crush you—is Tyler sizing up whether or not you are worth the trouble of an ex even cockier than he is and more arrogant than you once believed him to be. One thing Tyler and Scott have in common: the adoring attention from young women. You’ve heard the stories from Lilly and Boone, and at any point, Tyler could tip his hat in adieu and return to his many fans to seek the encounters you’ve been hoping to share with him.  

Tyler turns his head to you. “You still like him? At all?”

“No,” you answer, trying not to be offended by the question he has a right to ask. To you, it’s absurd, insulting. To him, it’s covering his bases and understanding what, if anything, he is getting in between by pursuing you, or considering pursuing you. “The way he approaches relationships mimics the way he approaches chasing,” you continue. “Controlling, nit-picky, demanding. I couldn't stand it.” He’s nothing like you, you want to say, but for some reason, don’t.

Your heart’s discomfort eases with the slow spread of a smile across his face. You step toward him. “Look, Tyler, I know we haven’t really talked about us, but I–”

“There you are. I was starting to think I ran you off.”

The intruding voice snatches your attention and Tyler immediately pushes off the wall, positioning himself closer to your side. “I'm not sure you're threatening enough for that,” he says. 

Scott smirks, one eyebrow arching. “And you are?”

“Tyler,” he says, reaching out his hand in a play-nice gesture. “Owens.”

Realization dawns on Scott. “Oh, of course,” he replies, a mocking grin forming as he accepts the handshake. When he takes his hand back, he crosses his arms and cocks his head to the side. “Your reputation precedes you. How many followers have you managed to stack up by playing around for entertainment?”

“Subscribers,” Tyler corrects. “A mil.”

“Must be validating after failing to make it professionally.”

Your gut twists, fists almost clenching, but you restrain yourself from showing his effect on you. “That’s not why he does what he does,” you scold your ex sternly. Tyler’s head whips to you. You can just barely detect the gentle smile on his face. 

Scott hums, nonchalantly advancing closer to hover over you. His eyes penetrate like lasers into yours. “You know, you should really think before you fraternize. You wouldn’t want to make us look bad,” he says, running a knuckle down your cheek. You flinch away from his touch and he grins. “That’s all,” he says. “Good night, you two” And then he turns on his heel and returns from where he came. 

“Charming,” Tyler sarcastically snips. “I see the appeal.”

—

He fucking left you behind. 

You were trying to finish up his job after he failed to properly secure Javi’s tech, but as you were doing so, the tornado’s size grew and its speed picked up and it was headed right for you. Scott screamed at you, panicked in a way you’ve never heard before, but when you weren’t quick enough for his liking, he slammed your door and drove off, leaving you to looming disaster. 

If not for Tyler, you’d be dead. He spotted you in his crew’s attempt to flee, and though it was an insane risk, he came for you, leaping out of his truck and grabbing you as he yelled for Boone to take the wheel. 

He practically threw you into the back seat before crawling in after you and wrapping your shivering body in his arms.

“Tyler, man, I don’t know if we’re gonna be able to outrun it!” Boone called back, eyes darting between the blurry road in front of him and the rearview mirror. 

“Then drill us into the fucking ground!”

And that’s where you stayed, huddled together, your face in his neck as the storm tried to tear you apart. 

—

Are you out of your fucking mind!” Tyler shouts, stomping through the parking lot of the motel refuge. 

To your relief, the small, aged structure was out of the tornado's path, if just barely, and in the aftermath, the owner offered free rooms to those in need. Except for Boone, who holds you steady as Tyler storms off, the Wranglers pass out whatever shirts and food they have available, providing what comfort they can.

Javi inserts himself between Tyler and Scott, his hands up to keep Tyler back. “Woah, woah, calm down.”

“He could’ve fucking killed her!”

Javi’s concerned brow settles from shock. “W-What?” he asks. “What are you talking about?”

Tyler’s as vicious as a lion, his teeth bared, claws out as he tries to side-step Javi to get to Scott, who has backed up a step. “He left her out there!”

You can see the Adam’s apple bob in your ex’s throat. His composure is on edge. He’s never been called out before, not even by you. “She was being stupid.”

“She was doing your job!”

Scott scoffs as Javi blinks, trying to adjust to the rapid-fire information being thrown at him. He’s never been good at an onslaught of facts, needing that adjustment period for things to properly sink in. He’s careful that way. It’s his methodical mind. He takes his time with his planning, and that extends past his inventions. “Look, everyone’s safe. Everyone’s tired. Let’s just get some rest and we can deal with this tomorrow.”

“You’re letting him stay? After what he did?”

“Right now, no one has anywhere to go,” Javi explains, and though true, it doesn’t mean Scott has to remain here now that the threat is gone. Javi’s eyes dart past Tyler’s shoulder to your shaken form. He sighs an exhale that deflates his entire chest, his eyes close, and he shakes his head. He brought this on. He knows it. Scott was a mistake, and while it wasn’t Javi who put you in danger, you don’t mind him absorbing some of the guilt of what happened. “Just…take care of her.”

Tyler huffs and says, “That’s more than you people do,” before turning around and coming for you. Boone passes you off with a nod. Tyler’s arm goes around your body, his hand rubbing up and down your bicep. You wonder where he stored the rage so quickly, but you appreciate that he didn’t set any of it aside for you. After all, you’re the reason he almost died. You’re the reason his friend almost died. Just because it was not a potential consequence of your choices, the stress of near death can keep anyone on edge. But not Tyler, apparently. He has other priorities.

“Come on,” Tyler says. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” And he guides you to your room, the very same one you’ve been tempted to invite him to since your first chase together. You didn’t imagine this was how he would come to join you.

—

Tyler’s jaw slackens when you exit the bathroom in a small towel that barely covers your body, and he quickly rises from where he is sitting at the end of your mattress, wiping his palms on his jeans as if to remove the moisture collected there. His eyes go wide, but they can’t seem to meet yours, his green orbs trailing up and down your body. 

“They’re a bit short,” you tell him.

“Yea, I, uh,” His hand runs over his hair down to his neck. “I know,” he says, instantly conjuring the image of a bare Tyler, water droplets covering his skin, a measly towel wrapped around his waist held together by one hand; a hand that, if removed, would cause the towel to drop to the ratty carpeting. “Do you, um…you need anything? I can try to get you–”

“No,” you stop him. “I’m alright.” A beat passes, and then he nods and blows out a breath. “Thank you, for saving me. You didn’t have to risk yourself like that.”

His eyes find yours then. “You can’t possibly think that I wouldn’t.”

“I know you’re kinder than most. Braver than most. But you’re not stupid, and saving me was a bit–”

“Don’t say that. I’d do it again,” he says. When he steps toward you, the towel suddenly feels much smaller. You feel exposed under his gaze, but to your surprise, not embarrassed. Scott had a way of making you feel less than in what seemed like a thousand different ways, but not Tyler. His eyes marvel. “And again.”

You take a deep breath, releasing it slowly out your nose. 

“Are you still shaken up?” Tyler asks you. 

You shake your head. “Not really.”

He stops directly in front of you. “Can I finally kiss you then?”

Your lips part. The towel falls, not necessarily with intention, but you can’t hold the thing up and wrap your arms around his neck at the same time. And, right now, one is more important than the other. 

Tyler tastes like the cola from your fridge that he must’ve had while he waited for you in the shower. His teeth nibble at your bottom lip, and you open for him. His hands settle on your bare waist for what seems like all of two seconds before they’re sliding lower, squeezing flesh, and pulling you in closer. Your fingers pick at the buttons of his shirt, the first few coming free. 

“You sure about this?” is muffled out between kisses.

You pull apart just long enough to say yes before you’re kissing him again, helping him out of his clothes, and falling into bed together. 

—

A knock wakes you. You turn over under Tyler’s arm and, careful not to wake him, rise from the bed. You grab his shirt off the nearby chair and pull it over your head, then slip on some sleep shorts before heading for the door. 

Javi smiles when he sees you, a sense of relief allowing the muscles to release their tension in his body. “Hey,” he says before his eyes fall down to your—Tyler’s—shirt. He raises a brow. 

You shrug. “I like him.”

Javi clicks his tongue. A modest sign of disapproval. “Right, well…I just came by to apologize and let you know that I kicked Scott off the team. He left about an hour ago.”

You hum in acknowledgment. At least you’ll avoid the drama of your ex figuring out you ‘fraternized’ with the leader of the other team. Being storm chasers, dramatics runs through your blood, and it’s not as if Tyler would shy away from any remarks Scott may throw at him or you, but this just happens to be one issue you’d rather not waste the energy on. It’s not his business, anyway.

“Thanks, Javi.”

“I really am sorry,” he says. “I never would’ve imagined he’d–”

“I know. Me either.”

Javi sighs in the silence that follows, then he says, “You sure about Owens?”

You nod. “I’m sure about Owens.”

“I guess we can’t be on opposite sides then, can we?”

“That would be nice,” you say. Javi gives you another smile. “They’re not so bad. I mean, I know they do stuff…differently, but they don’t leave anyone behind.” When a twinge of guilt flashes across his face, you say, “It wasn’t your fault.”

You can’t tell if he believes that’s how you truly feel, but as you nod in reassurance of that statement, he nods with you. 

“Ok,” he says. 

“Ok,” you repeat, and then with one final grin, Javi disappears down the hall. 

You close the door and strip yourself of the clothes you’d thrown on to get back into bed. Tyler’s still asleep. His breathing is soft, even, comforting, and luckily, your spot beside him has maintained its warmth from where you’d been laying all night. 

“I’m sure about you, too,” he suddenly says, voice groggy and eyes remaining closed. He lifts his arm, and you tuck yourself back into his embrace. 

[camille-plumb]

𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆|| ʙʟᴜᴇʟᴏᴄᴋᵒⁿᵉ ˢʰᵒᵗˢ

Itoshi Sae x Female Reader

▌│█║▌║▌║ ✞︎ 𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ✞︎ ║▌║▌║█│▌

Song: Die for You by The Weeknd

Warning: Uncensored language, mature language, 18+ content.🔞

••••••••⇆ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ㅤ ▷↻••••••••

Sae had never been a particularly religious person, but he thought that if God existed, the rain would stop and he could escape from the shelter.

If God heard him clearly, he wouldn't be in this situation.

He woke up the next morning to the monotonous drumming of the rain. The redhead sighed and looked down at the girl lying on his chest. The gaps in the shelter let in just enough daylight to see.

He stared at (Y/N)'s deceptively sweet face, her parted lips that continued to brush against his chest with every breath she took, her long, dark eyelashes, and that soft, golden skin.

The redhead looked away and pushed the girl off him.

The confusing situation would have been funny if Sae hadn't been in such a bad mood. This had been a terrible idea. What had he been thinking?

"You idiot," (Y/N) groaned sleepily.

Sae stood up and walked out half-naked. All he had left were torn shorts covering his lower body. He peed, brushed his teeth, and then washed in the warm rain, frowning at the gray sky.

"Had I ever thought I'd end up in a situation like this?"

It would be a story worthy of a Discovery Channel documentary, he thought with a smile as he recalled the events of the past five months. He still remembered the last flight he'd taken, the one that had changed his life. Perhaps if he had listened to his manager and hadn't been so obsessed with seeing his girlfriend, the story would have been different.

The memory of how the plane crashed and ended up in the ocean struck him like a traumatic memory. He was grateful for his good physical condition, which had allowed him to reach the island he was on. Thinking about all the people who died that day still made his stomach churn.

His achievements, his trophies, even his Ballon d'Or nomination were lost in time, just like him. His dreams and everything he had fought and worked for since he was a child were only alive in his memory and etched on his skin.

In his most optimistic thoughts, there was still the hope that someone would still be looking for him. He was a star, after all, a soccer prodigy. He was important to his team, to his manager, to his girlfriend, to his family. He sighed as he remembered all the people who cared about him. Surely his younger brother would be moving heaven and earth to find him. While it was true that their relationship wasn't as good as it had been when they were children, they had always been close, and time had solved the problems they had, even more so when they shared a team and began to get along relatively well again.

Feeling a little better, the redhead wanted to return to the shelter. He sighed as he watched the waves in the ocean. He had always loved the sea. Since he was a child, he had a taste for going to see it after every training session. Even though he was probably in the place where he was going to die, he was still fascinated by being able to see it every day.

Life on the island wasn't as difficult as he initially thought. The idea of ​​survival was always present in his plans from day one. Gathering supplies from everything on the island and setting up a shelter was essential. But as in every story, there always has to be something dramatic that "makes the situation better," and in this case, the drama was her.

He met (Y/N) the day after arriving on the island. He thought he was alone while searching through the suitcases floating on the shore when he heard sobbing. He ran, thinking someone needed help. But upon arriving, he was surprised when he tried to help a crying woman up, and she hit him. At first, he tried to be kind and understanding, but he let the blow to the cheek go when he found her sitting next to her ex-husband's corpse. He felt empathy for the situation and let her cry; well, at least he tried. The mourning seemed eternal and was already bordering on the dark and strange.

It took him three weeks to convince her to leave her late husband's body. Keeping a corpse so close was dangerous. The diseases the body could transmit were a danger given his condition. After much discussion, they managed to agree to bury him. Once their mission was accomplished, the difficult part came.

He still remembered him…

The first month, he had grown accustomed to his solitude. They barely spoke. She was like a ghost who only spent time with her husband's corpse. They rarely met to collaborate on foraging, or when he saw her talking to her late husband while she ran to stay in shape and avoid going crazy.

During the second and third months, hell began. It seemed the little ghost was finally accepting reality. Although she had accepted that her husband was no longer physically with her, she always brought him up in conversations. Comparisons between him and the deceased were her daily bread, to the point that he was fed up with the situation.

Comments like, "My husband could fish with a spear," "You can't even tie a star knot," "Go kick some coconuts or go give some passes to the sharks," had made their relationship unsustainable. They clearly hated each other, and neither of them tried to hide it. One day, her acidic comments about how her husband would have made a better job of the shelter he'd worked so hard to build had caused his ego to bubble, ending in a fight that ended with them wrestling on the sand, one on top of the other. She tried to hit him, and he avoided the blow, trying not to hurt her—well, at least he tried.

By the fourth month, he thought the sun had burned his brain. Although he considered that throughout his life his sexual appetite was normal, perhaps high when he was stressed about an important match, he never thought he'd go so far as to desire the island's little drama queen.

It was pathetic how he felt; not even in his teens had he felt this aroused. Perhaps it was the lack of sex in those months, or the fact that he saw her delicious, half-naked body moving in front of him every day, the sight of her plump lips as she insulted or cursed him, only made him think of impure things. There were days when, while she talked and complained to him, all he could think about was silencing her with his cock.

Despite his latent desire, he knew he couldn't touch her without her wanting him to. Every day was a worse torture, even more so since the rains began on the island. The clothes they were wearing wore out in the sun and the climate of the fifth month. Now they only had the clothes on, and the frigid nights forced them to seek warmth in other ways. Sleeping together, for the time being, was the only solution to survive and not die of hypothermia.

Sae finished recounting island life in his mind when he entered the shelter and saw a thin silhouette. (Y/N) was lying face down, sleeping peacefully on Sae's bedding. She was still half-naked. The redhead's jaw clenched, his newfound calm evaporating in an instant.

He tore his eyes away from that enormous ass jiggling in front of him and kicked (Y/N) in the shin.

"Get out of my bed."

(Y/N) just mumbled something sleepily and ignored him. Sae's eyes returned to that soft, plump ass. He was just a man on the verge of insanity.

Looking away again, Sae leaned in and growled in the girl's ear:

"Get out of my bed, or I'll take that as an invitation to fuck you."

(Y/N) stiffened before sitting up so quickly their heads nearly collided. She looked at Sae, sleepily, running a hand through her hair.

"Fuck off," she said, her cheeks flushed, unable to look at the redhead.

Huffing, the green-eyed boy sat down on the small makeshift bed. The closeness of their bodies allowed him to revel in her figure. He focused his gaze on her thighs and bubs. The thought of touching her soft skin was unbearable, as was the bulge in his pants.

Damn! Now that he could see her face up close, he noticed the small details that made her look beautiful: her long hair, slightly tousled on one side, her hideous red lips that were begging to be kissed or stretched by a hard cock, those big eyes and…

"Are you done fantasizing about me, idiot?" The anger in her voice reminded him that he wasn't a teenager fantasizing about a female body; he managed to control himself and keep his cock tucked into his pants. "I'm not fantasizing about you, you little drama queen. I'm not crazy enough to want you yet." The redhead squirmed, ignoring the furious eyes that glared at him, eager to kill him.

The rain stopped for a moment, allowing them to leave the shelter to find food and prepare for bed.

As night fell, they lay down on their pathetic "beds." Sae stared at the shelter's ceiling, listening to the tumbling rhythm of life. The sound was depressing. Lonely. It made him long for someone else's warmth. Someone else's touch, something. He wanted to shed him own skin and do something. Anything to feel better.

He knew (Y/N) wasn't asleep. There was tension in the air, so thick he could almost taste it.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore.

He rolled onto him side and pressed him slightly erect cock against the girl's back. (Y/N) let out a gasp that seemed both relieved and annoyed.

"Fuck off, you idiot. What's wrong with you?"

Sae wrapped an arm around the girl's waist, and they pressed against each other, his erection nestling between (Y/N)'s buttocks.

"Stop complicating it," he said, biting the back of (Y/N)'s neck. "It doesn't have to mean anything."

"But," he didn't let her finish as he began to move his erection between her buttocks.

"Shut up and enjoy. You know you want it as much as I do."

The long silence that surrounded the room was cut short by the girl's moans, as she began to involuntarily shake her body in search of more. The redhead took her response as a clear pass to reach the end.

Burying his face against the back of (Y/N)'s neck, Sae closed his eyes and sought his own release. It really didn't mean anything. They were just two lonely humans, starved for physical contact, seeking relief and comfort.

Nothing more.

He had intended to simply rub himself against (Y/N)'s ass while she masturbated, but now he felt greedy. He wanted more. His hands began to wander, caressing (TN)'s soft bubs and stomach, calmly massaging her big bubs, adapting them to his large hands and rubbing her nipples.

"Stop," (Y/N) murmured weakly, but didn't try to move away and continued to caress her own center, which was growing wetter and wetter.

Sae ignored her, his face buried in the back of her neck, while his hand rubbed and pinched those pretty nipples.

Fuck, he wished he could suck them.

He pinched her left nipple, and she moaned, shuddering against him. The redhead slid his hand down, over her trembling stomach, and then down, until his hand collided with hers in her wet little pussy.

(Y/N) tensed.

After a long beat, the girl's hand dropped. Sae took advantage of the available space and guided a finger toward her tiny entrance. (Y/N) let out a shaky breath.

"I'm married," she said in a long, drawn-out sigh that sounded like a moan.

Sae simply scoffed. (Y/N)'s pussy was so tight he could feel his finger being sucked hard. If he hadn't known she was married, he'd think she was a virgin. The best part was that she was already dripping, preparing for him, getting wet for him. The situation only made him more excited.

"I…am…married," she said again, but her words came out more like a moan.

"I'm not listening to no," the green-eyed man said, thrusting his finger all the way in forcefully.

"As if 'no' would stop you," she gasped, releasing more juices into her pussy.

"You won't know unless you try it," the redhead said dryly, still moving his fingers.

He knew (Y/N) would feel better about it if she could pretend she was being forced. He probably should have been upset about it, but he wasn't. If she'd fallen in love with (TN) or, God forbid, actually wanted a relationship with her, this would have been a bitch. But as things stood, (TN) continuing to be a self-sacrificing widow practically guaranteed that Sae wouldn't get attached.

This meant nothing. Just a basic need that meant nothing.

So he fondled (Y/N)'s pussy, deriving a kind of sick pleasure from every moan the girl who claimed to hate him gave him.

(Y/N) was clearly trying to keep quiet, trying to swallow her moans, but soon, she couldn't stop them from escaping her mouth. Her hips also began to move, rubbing helplessly against Sae's fingers until she was a quivering, moaning mess.

"No," (Y/N) cried out when the redhead withdrew his fingers from inside her.

"Spread your legs," he ordered in his deep voice, which only increased her desire for him. (Y/N) did as she was told, panting.

"Touch my cock," the redhead said, panting.

"I won't."she said, blushing.

Laughing, Sae took the girl's hand and wrapped it around his aching cock.

"Touch it." the redhead ordered, moving his cock near her pussy.

"I'm married, I won't." she replied, looking longingly at the huge cock in front of her.

"Touch it. Or I won't touch you again." the redhead murmured, briefly rubbing the pink head of his cock against the wet entrance of her pussy.

"I hate you," she said, but her hand finally moved, a little hesitantly at first. "This is disgusting."

"Shut up, or I'll shut you up with my dick."

That silenced (Y/N).

"But maybe you like it," Sae said, pressing their foreheads together. "Maybe that's what you really want: a fat cock in your mouth."

"Fuck off," she said breathlessly, gripping the redhead's cock tighter. "I have…"

"Husband? You have a cock in your hand, one that's clearly not your husband's. Does that make you feel like a little slut? What does it feel like to crave someone else's cock that isn't your husband, huh? Tell me, little slut, can you feel your little pussy twitching, begging to be filled with my cock?"

"No…ah~" The word turned into a long moan as (Y/N), aroused by the words, climaxed in Sae's hand, drenching it with her cum.

Sae looked at the mess she had made and was aroused by the sight of her wet pussy, open, eager, and ready for him.

"My turn," he said, stroking his own cock, mixing her juices with his swollen shaft, making it nice and slippery. The girl seemed barely conscious due to the cloud of pleasure she'd felt; the only command left in her mind was that she was to keep her legs open for him.

Fuck, something went straight to Sae's cock at that image. Having such a docile and satisfied little stubborn idiot in his arms was beyond arousing.

Unable to wait any longer, Sae rolled them over, pushing (Y/N) underneath him. (Y/N) made a desperate sound as Sae's fingers slid out of her, but the redhead was already pressing the head of his cock against the slick hole.

In the back of his mind, the last vestiges of his rationality tried to impress things like condoms, ideas that were instantly discarded. They were on an island, lost, they would probably die, and he wanted to fuck her, take her like he'd wanted. He felt like he would explode if he didn't stick his cock in that woman right now.

So he thrust in all at once, and they both moaned. (Y/N) was so tight it was almost painful, but God, it felt so good, like she'd finally reached the goal of the past few months. The relief was so immense that Sae almost came right then.

"Ah… Idiot… mmhg~" (Y/N) exhaled, her body tense from the hard thrust. "Couldn't you slow down? You're so big… ah~"

Sae closed his eyes again and started thrusting. He just needed to finish once. The sooner he came, the sooner he'd get this crazy woman out of his skin and mind.

He thrust and thrust and thrust, his fingers digging into (Y/N)'s soft hips, holding her still as she enjoyed herself.

Fuck, she was such a slut for that, her hips rolling on his cock like she was born to do it.

-Stop, ah, no, ah, fuck!- she begged with her eyes closed in pleasure while digging her nails into his back with force.

Sae went absolutely crazy with a mixture of desire and rage. He pushed (Y/N) onto her hands and knees and slammed himself into her pussy hard. She moaned, lifting her hips higher, allowing his cock to enter deeper.

"Do you still want me to stop?" He growled into the girl's ear, fucking her hard and fast.

"Yes, ah…ah~, no, don't do it, don't stop, do it…harder."

Sae bit her shoulder and fucked her harder as she demanded. The makeshift bed was a complete mess, the noises their mouths made sounded inhuman now. Like animals in heat together, to satisfy their instincts, a primal need that couldn't be denied.

Sae had no idea how much time had passed. Only he was vaguely aware that (Y/N) reached her orgasm first, satisfied, screaming and moaning with pleasure. Her face was a complete aphrodisiac.

Without thinking about the place, the circumstances, or what might happen tomorrow, he released all his cum inside her, moving his hips slightly until he emptied himself completely. Staining her small pussy white, he felt his cum run down her legs. He could only let out a satisfied laugh and let go of her body, falling on top of (Y/N), burying his face in the wet nape of her neck.

An unnatural possessiveness flooded his mind as he watched her sleep. Her contented expression was plastered on her face. He had pleased her, made her his, his woman. The memory of her late husband would never haunt her again. If she ever mentioned him again, he would make sure to remind her who she belonged to. He would fuck her every day if necessary.

He had lost his sanity and given in to madness.

An involuntary groan escaped his lips as he felt his cock being squeezed again.

He took a deep breath. Mine. He thought calmly, watching her sleep; she was wonderful. He had never felt so satisfied in his life.

As he squeezed her buttocks and held her, he fell asleep, still buried deep inside her.

If every day was going to be like this, maybe the idea of ​​dying on the island wasn't so bad.

No…

He would only die for her.

•••••━━━━━━━ •♬• ━━━━━━━••••••

•••••━━━━━━━ •♬• ━━━━━━━••••••

Hiiii~ Thanks for your reactions to these one shots~.✨✨

[bambi-kinos]

I don't know much about Brian Epstein other than that he was the manager and that he was gay. Do you think it made a difference for John and Paul? Better or worse? He must have known about the two of them, don't you think? This might be the craziest ask but do you think George and Ringo had "bisexual experiences" with John and or Paul too apart from that circel jerk?

A paragraph summary: Brian Epstein was a gay Jewish man born in a family established in Liverpool. He faced a lot of anti-Semitic prejudice as a child and an adult which affected his sense of self profoundly and riddled him with self doubt. He was very intelligent and astute businessman who was close to his mother, father, and younger brother Clive. He was one of those aimless people who wandered through life, mastering skills and solving problems quickly and then becoming bored once there was nothing left to do. He attended RADA, served briefly in the British army (there was still a draft at the time), and then went home to manage the family business as his father got older. He built up the Epsteins' furniture business and then moved on to the family record shop in Liverpool proper. Brian was good at keeping his ear to the ground regarding trends and realized teen clients with pocket money were his new target audience. He caught wind of The Beatles through them (the bugs had recorded a record in Germany with another musician and tried promoting it during their gigs at The Cavern, leading their fans to NEMS, Brian's record shop.) He observed them at The Cavern and eventually approached them to be their manager.

The rest as they say is history. The Beatles as a group, a sound, and an image were built and promoted by Brian Epstein. He was the one who believed in them from the start and he is the reason why we know and love them today.

When it comes to John and Paul and their specific mess: it is reasonable to assume that they clocked Brian pretty quickly and decided to go with him anyway. I can speculate that Brian paid people off if suspicion arose and that he shielded them in other ways like the written room assignments. (John and Paul did not actually room together that often on paper though the reality was probably very different.) I don't know if Brian had to go so far as to arrange "beards" or anything, Cynthia and Jane functioned well in that role and then John and Paul both have sincere sexual interest in women. It's reasonable to think Brian realized what John and Paul were to each other early on but the specifics are completely up to interpretation and speculation. It's a big opaque wall that we can project whatever we want onto.

Brian is still very opaque in many ways. Lots of rumors about him abound, some good and some bad. It's impossible to know what is true and what is not aside from Brian's brushes with law enforcement and what has been reported about him by The Beatles themselves. I think he loved his boys very much and that he did his utmost to protect them in every way he could.

That is ultimately why The Beatles (John, Paul, George, sort of Pete at the time) decided to go with him. It's hard to say if Brian being gay was a minus or a plus for them but ultimately what drew them to him was that he respected them as performers instead of treating them as money factories. That's what Allen Williams did when he dumped them in Hamburg. Allen did love them but he wouldn't respect them and they kicked him as fast as they could. What separated Brian from their other managers was that he respected their act as a unit and tried to improve their presentation instead of changing their sound or telling them to repress their personalities. He was more interested in refining and polishing and they responded to that.

I guess my take is that the homosexuality thing didn't actually loom that large for them. The boys had enough show biz experience to realize how many gay men were involved in performance arts and that Brian's assets (a good eye for costumery, adaptability, his respect for their hard work and talent) simply outweighed the gay thing. Everything else is unknown and open to projection/interpretation/fanfiction/whatever.

Wrt George and Ringo, I think they had bisexual experiences with John and Paul, yeah. I'm a subscriber to the idea that all four of them had sexual tension with one another. It's another blank space that we can project whatever we want onto it.

Considering John and George did a lot of LSD together I wouldn't be surprised if they had sex while stoned (which would add another layer of Paul's icy refusal to take the LSD until John tricked him with the rooftop thing.)

Ringo is a little bit of an enigma, all the industry gossip online says that he's really just that heterosexual but considering how beautiful Paul is and how close they all are, it's hard to think he didn't at least try out gay sex to see if he liked it or not. George is the most likely candidate for sex with Ringo, not just because "pair the spares" but because George is the only Beatle that Ringo could try out gay sex with and he wouldn't make it weird. Can you imagine John or Paul's flutters in the aftermath of having gay sex with Ringo instead of each other lmao. George is very low maintenance in comparison so I can imagine him and Ringo trying it out just to see and then coming to an amicable agreement after regardless of the outcome. And I've often wondered if Ringo and Paul started hooking up after John died.

I don't know if George or Paul could have made it work in any capacity, casual or serious. I think they were attracted to each other (Paul certainly comes off as wanting to fuck George and Ringo on the DL in the Eye of the Storm photobook) but whether or not either of them could have actually coped with that is a big question mark. I'm not sure they could without a lot of growing up from either of them.

I also think that John's "Greek island" fantasy also included orgies but that's because John is such a horny and jealous guy, putting his three best mates in a single stretch of land where they can't avoid him? You bet he wanted group sex lmao. I'm sure that included Brian to some extent.

Maybe its a good thing that it didn't work out because Paul would gone and burned John's face off over that.

[optimisticgrey]

✨All we have is each other - Part 14✨ The City, the Book and the Letter

summary: Let's take a magical stroll through Baldur's Gate. Or something along those lines.

author's note: Sorry for the delay, I had a very wholesome family meeting last night.

content warning: just the usual angst and act 3 overwhelm

taglist:I am playing around with the tumblr restriction settings, so tags will be below.

word count: 3 k

Start at the beginning

AO3 Link

Halsin was right. Gods, Halsin was absolutely, infuriatingly, unshakably right. What the fuck possessed you to doubt a centuries-old druid?

This city is vile. It reeks of rot and salt, like someone bottled the scent of an open cloaca and sprayed it over low tide – and you haven’t even make it past Wyrm’s Crossing.

You have read plenty about Earth’s history: plagues, unwashed masses, the charming stench of the Middle Ages…but this place? This place needs air fresheners. A functioning sewer system. Maybe a public bath or ten for the crowds of residents and refugees crammed into its alleys.

Wyll and Karlach, though, they are so fucking happy, your heart hurts. Practically glowing. Even Wyrm’s Crossing brings joy to their faces, and you do not have it in you to dampen their happiness.

You gave them the only room available at Sharess’ Caress as a gift. You did not explain why. Just smiled, handed over the key, and watched them ascend the stairs arm in arm, your coin pouch a little lighter, your heart a little warmer.

“A generous gesture, my love,” Gale murmured beside you, his arm slipping easily around your waist, lips brushing your temple. “I admit, I’d quite like to share such a room with you one day.”

You laughed softly and leaned into him. “I know. We will. The next one’s ours, I promise.”

His fingers tilted your chin, and he kissed you. Deep and slow, as if anchoring himself in that one moment. “I’ll hold you to that.”

And then it is back to the grind. The motions. Rivington and its noise and need and endlessly filthy streets. One step at a time, one task after another. A shoulder offered where it is needed most.

Tensions rise with every footstep closer to the gate. Everyone is fraying at the edges —snapping, discussing, desperate to solve their problems first. You understand it. You do. You feel for them. And you try to be kind. To be patient. But you feel your own grip slipping.

You know what waits on the other side of the Gate. It is why you gave Wyll and Karlach that quiet night. Because the moment Mizora appears, Wyll will loose his shit.

And he has every right to. Her demands are cruel. Unforgivable. But it is a burden for tomorrow.

You breathe. You brace. Another day. Another step.

Closer to the damn city that will demand more of you than you have left to give. That will strip you bare with its choices, its costs.

You smile at the thought. It feels dramatic. But it is true.

One wrong word, one mistake, and everything changes. And they will know. And they can never know. Not what you think you know. Not what you are so deeply afraid of.

So you carry the weight, and you love them, exactly as they are. For as long as you are allowed and able to.

Instead of pressing forward, you rest. Hay and a thin bedroll beneath your back, Gale’s warmth wrapped around you. You cling to him each night, desperately and instinctively. And he notices. Of course, he notices.How could he not? The way you flinch at sudden noises, the restless shifts in your sleep, the sighs that escape your lungs before you can catch them. Not always. But often enough. Too often.

Gale does not approach you directly. He trusts you well enough to not say anything but it lingers in his care. A gentle smile when he hands you tea. His hand resting on your back. And additional small peck after every kiss, just before you part.

You do not mean to react so strongly, but you’re delighted. You manage to keep your composure when Gale introduces you, though your heart leaps at the sight of her.You are already sinking to your knees before you realize what you are doing. More out of reverence than anything else. Tara notices.

“Well, aren’t you a polite one?” she says, a touch amused.

You grin, a little awkward, unsure where to go from here. “Doing my best.”

“You may pet me,” she offers graciously.

You extend your hand slowly, brushing behind her ears with careful fingers. Her purr is immediate and profound.

“A wise choice, Mr. Dekarios. A wise choice indeed,” she hums, closing her eyes in contentment.

“Thank you,” you reply, strangely earnest. “That actually means a lot.”

Her eyes flick open again. Sharp. Assessing. She watches you a moment longer than necessary, head tilting, as if weighing something unspoken. But whatever it is, she keeps it to herself, and vanishes across the rooftop.

“I’m glad she approves of you,” Gale murmurs beside you, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I’m glad too,” you reply quietly. “You’ve told me so much about her, it almost felt like meeting an old friend.”

“She’s… special to me,” he says, gaze lingering on the direction she disappeared before returning to you. His hand finds yours, lifts it, presses a kiss to your knuckles. His eyes soften. “As are you.”

You lean in and kiss him, your joined hands pressed over his heart. “I’m aware, Mr. Dekarios,” you murmur with a grin, and he laughs - charmed, a little bashful.

“Come,” he says, brushing your hair back from your face. “Let’s round up the others and see if a room’s available. I think, after crawling through a well and a particularly unsavoury cave to collect body parts, we’ve earned ourselves a proper bath.”

You tried to time it all—every decision, every step, every heart-wrenching turn—with as much care and foresight as your memory allowed. And still, it only half works. Mizora appears that same cursed evening, right after the confrontation with Gortash, throwing everything into chaos with her smug smile and infernal demands. She forces a decision upon Wyll that should never have been made by anyone.

You knew she had come. You had planned for it, prepared. But none of that steels you against the devastation that spreads across Wyll’s face. It shatters you. You kneel beside him, your voice soft as a breath, urging him toward the only path that might spare him later agony: save his father.

He breaks. There is no other word for it. He crashes into grief, rage, confusion and you guide him through it as best you can, staying by his side, even when there is nothing to say that can soothe what has been done. He questions everything. Himself. His place in this unravelling city. The life of the man who raised him. And all you have to offer are words you pray won’t turn to ash in your mouth: that you will get his father out. Alive. Unharmed. Whole. A promise you have no right to make and no guarantee to keep.

Still, you make it.

Karlach does not take Gortash well either. She erupts, a blaze of fury that almost consumes the entire camp. Gale—bless his increasingly frazzled patience—keeps summoning water to douse the flames, grumbling more with each wave of his hand. It is chaos. Painful, volatile, and too much to hold in your chest all at once.

You miss the road. You miss the stars. You miss the quiet hum of nature and Gale’s steady warmth beside you, Lae’zel’s gruff snoring serving as the odd sort of lullaby you never thought you had grow to love. But those days are behind you for now.

So you carry on. You do what needs to be done.

You argue with Gale over the owlbear cub—Potatoe Peel, or Peepee, as Yenna calls him. Gale wants to sneak him into the city under an invisibility spell, eyes alight with mischief, but you stand your ground. You insist he use a shrinking spell. There is no way the city guard would overlook a full-grown owlbear, not even one as disarmingly sweet as yours. They might recognize the spell. Too many things that can go wrong. Neither Gale nor the cub is pleased. Potatoe Peel hates being small. But the way he pokes his fuzzy head out of your pocket… You nearly melt every time. It is absurdly adorable.

The moment you secure a room at the Elfsong Tavern—real doors, not swaying curtains, thank fuck for that—you feel yourself start to exhale. It is strange, how decadent a closed door feels. How luxurious it is to order dinner. You have agreed to perform downstairs for a few nights, and it is new, thrilling. A different kind of vulnerability. You are not just keeping morale up around a campfire anymore. These are strangers. Locals. People with no obligation to clap or smile.

And they still love you.

They cheer for your “new songs”, for the sadness you bleed into every note and the flicker of hope tucked beneath your melodies. You live for it. For the way the room quiets when you sing, the way Gale watches you like he is experiencing a miracle.

Yenna thrives. You make time for her, always. So do the others—Astarion teaching her how to handle a blade, Shadowheart and Halsin helping her with reading and writing, Gale offering to teach simple cantrips. She, in turn, is eager to help you, trailing at your heels, careful and bright. You keep her here, under your roof, close. You do not trust the streets. Not with how the city quivers on the edge of collapse.

You do not revoke your thoughts and stances about the city but you are a little less in a bad mood the moment you sink into a hot bath at Elfsong Tavern.

The first night, you close the door and sink into the water with a sound so low and visceral it could be mistaken for pain. But this is pleasure. The kind you have not let yourself feel in too long. Heat seeps into your bones and you groan, letting your head fall back, eyes closed.

“Oh, fuck me,” you sigh, a breathless whisper into the dim room.

“I’m happy to be of service,” comes Gale’s familiar purr, threaded with laughter.

You do not even open your eyes. You just turn your head toward the sound of his voice, a soft, unconscious motion of trust and want.

His hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing tenderly over your skin. Then his lips find your forehead as he steps into the round tub with you. You lean into him, letting yourself be held. His arms fold around you and the kiss that follows is fierce with longing, breathless with relief. A gasp escapes you, unbidden.

You are safe. For now. For tonight.

Sorcerous Sundries is, surprisingly, fun. You have played through this place so many times you forgot how much joy it brought you the first time—the puzzle of the doors, the satisfying click of understanding. For a while, you allow yourself to enjoy it. To remember.

But of course, it does not last.

The moment Gale recognizes the Annuals of Karsus for what they are, your mood crashes. You hesitate. You do not want him to have that book. You do not want him to know what is inside it. You want him to forget—forget it ever existed, forget the name, the title, the very idea of it.

“I don’t think this is worth it, Gale,” you start, but it is a weak attempt. You know it. He knows it. You promised him the book afterall.

“And since when have we turned away from trouble, eh? Come now, the knowledge buried between these pages could help us tremendously. Don’t be a hindrance after being such a great help.”

The word stings. Hindrance.

At that, you flinch. You close your eyes, feeling your own defensiveness rising. Fear is clouding your mind and judgement, and Gale is too lost in his own fascination. You know this, you can feel it and still, there is no way to articulate it.

“Now’s not the time. We’ll talk about this later,” you say, trying to slip the book into your pack.

He stops you. “Then we make time. This could be the answer to everything.”

His voice is sharp. Sharper than you have ever heard it. Not at you. Not like this.

You draw in a breath. Another. Halsin and Astarion stand behind him, shifting with unease. You feel the tension.

You can do this. You will do this. This is supposed to happen. You will get it right.

“I think you’re putting all your eggs in one basket,” you murmur, quieter this time.

When you concede, there is the most condescending scoff leaving Gale’s lips as he greedily takes the book of your hands.

And just like that, you go numb.

This is a fantasy, you realize. Not yours. His. This is a fantasy, you realize with brutal clarity. Gale’s very own power fantasy. He will go for the Crown. For the illusion of control, of elevation, if you do not stop him. He needs what is in the book, yes, but everything that follows? That is on you. It is not just about steering him away from the Crown. It is about convincing him to live. With you, if the gods allow. You realize how selfish that is. Your own fantasy, bleeding into his.

You rub your face with your palms, exhaustion heavy in your bones, and slip outside to join Halsin and Astarion. You apologize, though you are not sure which part you are apologizing for.

The following week drains you like no week before. And you thought you were past this part. Past the tension, the sleeplessness, the endless push-and-pull conversations with Gale.

When Elminster is not waiting outside Sorcerous Sundries… or in camp… your panic sets in.

What does it mean? That he has no answers? That he will not come at all? That Gale will not be summoned and this entire plan will collapse if Mystra does not intervene? Will Gale ascend, and there will be nothing you can do?

You throw yourself into tasks. Anything to keep your hands busy. Anything to stop the thoughts.

You spend time with the others as much as you can. But it is hard. Gale takes up hours, days. Long discussions. Tangled speculations. Threads of thought wound and unwound again. He tries to make up for it—tries to be the brilliant, attentive man he is—but even he can tell you are afraid. You hate that he can tell. You need him to make the choice for himself. To live. Not to ease your fears. Not to reassure you. But because he wants to.

The only peace comes in the evenings, singing downstairs. Performing centres you. It is easy now. You find clarity in the cadence of ballads, solace in sorrow. Gale watches every night, completely enraptured, and tells you again and again that there is no note you could miss, no song too sad that he would not love it.

You notice the others have started drinking more. With alcohol constantly within reach, the pull is steady and subtle. Astarion disappears more frequently. For wine. Or blood. Or both. You do not ask. He is quieter now, here in the city. The spectre of Cazador lingers behind every corner. He does not avoid you, not really, but he is gone inward. Closed off. He rarely drinks from you now, even when you offer.

Then, one night, Yenna finds you. A letter. From Elminster. The coward did not even come in person to summon Gale. You walk with him at first light, hand in hand, the very next morning.

You know before the temple doors open, how scared you both are. Gale hides it with conversation, with his usual easy charm, but his grip on your hand is firm. Too firm.

When he steps into the summoning channel and vanishes, air leaves your lungs entirely. You cannot breathe. You pace, shaking. Your thoughts spiral.

Why? Why did you decide to do this alone? Why did you have to pretend to have your shit together and know fucking everything? It has been blatantly obvious to anyone that you are losing it. Step by step, deeper into the city and closer to the ends of their stories and….

It is obvious. It has been obvious.

Gale reappears. Smiling. Actually fucking smiling. Bright as ever.

You crash into him with a strangled breath, and he holds you tight, both of you trembling.

“You were right, my love,” he whispers, voice low and reverent against your skin. He buries his face in your neck, hand cradling the back of your head as if anchoring himself to the world. To you. “You were right all along. The Crown—it was never mine to bear. I will surrender it to Mystra. And in doing so, this chapter will end. I will be free.”

He draws you closer, breath warm against your shoulder. You hold each other for a long moment before you part.

Gale is beaming, you have rarely seen him in such a good mood. But you excuse yourself to walk down to the market and grab up a fresh bar of soap. In his brilliant mood, Gale leaves you after a series of longing kisses.

You sigh as you walk down the street, trying to sort your thoughts. Everything is on track again – finally! – and you allow yourself to get this right.

Slipping into the crowd at the market, you sigh. It feels good to just be yourself for a moment, listening to the shouting, negotiations and general vibe of the market. It’s a living, breathing thing in itself and you enjoy sinking into the faceless mass.

A figure grabs you by the waist and spins you before you can even register the movement. But Astarion’s and Wyll’s training kicks in like muscle memory, you have got the dagger in hand by the time your back slams against the wall, breath knocked out of you, a gloved hand clamping over your mouth.

Their face is shrouded in shadow, hidden beneath a hood and a scarf pulled tight up to their chin. You inhale sharply against the reeking leather pressed over your lips, heart thundering as your gaze snaps upward to call to your magic and then you freeze.

Blue eyes. That shade you could pick out from a battlefield of strangers. And a single unruly curl, red as fire, escaping the edge of the hood. You try to whisper a name name, but the hand holds firm, thumb pressing just under your chin, keeping your mouth closed so all you can do is mumble, wide-eyed.

“Thank fuck, it’s you!” Silas exhales, voice breaking into a laugh as he releases you, arms wrapping around you in a fierce embrace.

“Silas?!” you gasp, muffled still with disbelief. “What the fuck are you doing here? How—what—how?!”

[bountycancelled]

monster trio + sensitive/angry reader who's pmsing

opla x reader

requested: yes, but reqs are closed right now<3

genre: headcanons, no pronouns used, no use of y/n, reader has periods but gender isn't specified.

a/n: not taking reqs for now since I'm writing my finals and also working on an smau. but I am taking commissions if anyone is interested, totally not a must at all♡ unedited, no caps on purpose, its also a little short, but I hope you enjoy it!

☆luffy☆

–1000/10. brushes off your sour mood with a cheery smile and nothing floating around in his eyes.

if you were hoping that he would act a little more... sensibly during this less bearable part of your cycle, then you're dead wrong. boy is completely clueless.

everytime you lash out at him or otherwise act way more emotionally than you usually do, he genuinely doesn't think anything of it.

if you explain to him that your hormones are the reason for your behaviour, he'll just shrug and carry on as usual.

he doesn't necessarily understand how your body works, but he'll do anything you ask if it means making this time for you better to manage.

cuddling with you when you're in pain, comforting you when you get overly emotionally or giving you space. (this one's really hard for him, not because he can't be away from you, he just keeps forgetting and walking into the room your in to talk to you)

overall, this brown-eyed, straw hat wearing pirate may not be a pms expert, but he'll sure as he'll try his best for you. (no sharing food though, so don't ask.)

☆zoro☆

extremely perceptive, so he notices something is off about you, but shares that same lack of knowledge that luffy has.

he's also not the most emotional or confrontational person, if you want to talk about whatevers bothering you, then you know where to find him. he's not going to actively seek out answers.

he can take you attitude and mood swings like a champ too, so it's only when he overhears you chatting with nami about your period pain kicking your ass that he puts 2 and 2 together.

again, he's not exactly sure how to help you, this isn't a problem he can solve with his swords. so, he offers you the next best thing in his opinion, sleep. and lots of it.

if you're sad, he'll let you cuddle him until you eventually pass out (he's as stiff as a cardboard box when you're wrapped around him, but he's trying, okay?) if you're angry, he'll train with you until you can't get a word out, let alone think pissy thoughts, and you'll both nap on the closest comfy surface.

he always falls asleep before you tbh, buuuuuut. he always wakes up before you, still as he can be, making sure that you don't stir in your sleep, seeing as it's one of your only respites to the highs and lows of highschool footba– I mean, of your hormones. its not much, but he hopes that his presence serves as a comfort to you.

☆sanji☆

out of the three, he's the most likely to be hurt by your change in behaviour.

knowing sanji, he probably thinks that he's done something to encite your sudden moods and he'll seek you our immediately to apologise for whatever he's done that's made you act like this.

when you explain to him the actual situation, he calms down for a split second because now he knows he hasn't done anything to upset you, and then immediately goes into caring partner mode.

although he prides himself on knowing women better than most men, he's a bit clueless in this regard. but, if there's one thing he truly does know the ins and out of, it's you. your likes, dislikes, dreams, pet peeves, he'll pull out all the stops, each and every single action of his that you've ever talked about in a positive manner, he'll do.

I'm talking cuddles, compliments, cooking meals for you odd hours of the night when you're craving something specific, he'll do it all, if it means making this a little easier for you to deal with.

and though it pains him deeply to be away from you for any reason, he's grateful that you distance yourself whenever you're a bit snappy. he's sensitive by nature, and he'll come sprinting to you once you've cooled off a bit, ready to smother you with love once again.

[casanovawrites]

rp sentence prompts ft. clancy by twenty one pilots

i created this world to feel some control. destroy it if i want.

i won't hesitate to maybe overcompensate.

i feel like i was just here.

where am i from?

i'm wanted dead or alive.

stand up straight now.

i don't wanna be here.

can you die of anxiousness?

i don't wanna be here. what's about to happen?

i remember certain things, what i was wearing.

hey, kid, get out of the road.

can't change what you've done.

it's a taste test of what i hate less.

i don't mind if it's lonely, i don't mind if it's fair. i don't care.

you control me, leading me anywhere.

i don't wanna backslide to where i've started from.

there's no chance i will shake this again.

i'll take everything you have.

i should've loved you better.

do you think that now's the time you should let go?

is that a stain? you should change.

are you doin' good? did you solve all of your problems?

what happened to what i brushed under the rug?

i used to be the champion of a world you can't see.

i don't mind if it's lonely.

you can be so cold... i'll try again.

you make me sad and second-guess myself.

concentrate on the little gap in the ice about as wide as our chances.

did you forget we're tight on time?

i want love and sunny days.

i'm a bit too old to run away.

while all the world's asleep, i walk around instead.

here comes a new night.

i'm testing the limits of what a mind can do.

i'm keeping my eyelids up, no matter what.

so beautiful, the space between a painful reminder and a terrible dream.

i've been here before, and i've got time to give you the tour.

it's reassuring to keep coming around.

it's tough to find good company.

i'm still learning what this is. just keep me company.

where do i go from here?

i'm clinging to promises.

now he can't hold out his hand without it shaking.

testing what is real, what is good, it's been a long night.

it's for a friend.

i don't know why i can't stop crying.

i'm getting old, and i don't know a lot about you still.

seems i get in my own way the more i think, the less i say.

i hope i communicate the craving.

now i see intentions don't mean much.

i'd lay down and wait and hope she looks for me.

i hope that i can satiate the craving.

welcome to the new way of living.

you try your best to look like this is not your first time.

you're looking real nice.

pardon my delay. i'm navigating my head.

give me some advice. i'm wasting all this time.

i find my self esteem then turn so cold.

kind of feels like everybody leaves.

i'm feeling the reality that everybody leaves.

got a bad feeling that i'm about to break.

is it even good for my head to keep track?

if i'm gonna snap necks, then i gotta snap back.

got a bad feeling i'm gonna lose the lead.

have i burnt all the bridges?

got a bad feeling that i'm about to break. been a good streak, but the pressure's overweight.

guess i better move to a fresher approach.

i have seemed to run out of excuses of why i am this way.

future's coming fast.

in a season of purging things you used to love, everything must go.

make an oath, then make mistakes.

start a streak you're bound to break.

when darkness rolls on you, push on through.

before you know, you lose some people close, forcing you to manage your pace.

you learn what you can and can't take.

your favorite song was on the oldies station.

i don't want anyone, know me or not, to see me at my lowest.

nothing you can do this time.

used to be you and me.

keep it in mind, check on your friends every once in a while.

at the risk of feelin' dumb, check in.

it's not worth the risk of losing a friend.

those night terrors are not something to take lightly.

i can't be alone. guess i never told you so.

here's my chance, time to take it. can't be sure that i'll make it.

even though i'm past the point of no return, i'm all in.

[ripple-in-the-wound-and-wake]

Circle of Pine and Riddle

Chapter One: Bad Lives Make Good Stories

W/C: 4,964

“And so, if that isn’t big enough for what you’re doing, you could always create the quadruple piston extender, as covered in chapter 13, page 462. If you will all turn to this page, please…”

Grian stifled a yawn, his eyes watering from the effort of keeping them open. He meant no disrespect to Professor Jumbo—really, he didn’t. Redstone engineering was immensely valuable and horribly complex- but none of that changed the fact that it was the most painfully dull subject he’d ever had the misfortune of sitting through. No wonder he’d put off this one required course until his senior year of uni.

At least he wasn’t the only senior, Grian mused as his gaze drifted a few seats away. Scar Goodtimes, sprawled across his chair like a cat in the sun, was doing a splendid job of making Grian look like a model student. The edge of a brightly colored comic book peeked out from his textbook. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. Either he didn’t care or wanted to see if Professor Jumbo would call him out.

“So, are there any questions?” Professor Jumbo clasped his hands, his thick, shiny mustache curling with his grin. When no one raised their hand, he chuckled. “Ah, of course not. It really is quite simple, isn’t it? In that case, do your reading tonight, because next class we’ll be doing a lab! Isn’t that exciting?”

A few groans rippled through the lecture hall. The professor frowned, brushing at his tie as though physically warding off negativity. “Oh, don’t tell me you all aren’t excited! Hands-on learning is the best type of learning! Now, settle down. I have an announcement to make!”

The class hushed, and Jumbo adjusted his tie. “Now, I know not all of you are freshmen, but please listen anyway. This applies to everyone! I’ve been contacted by an up-and-coming entertainment company called The Watchers. They’re looking for participants for a game show competition and are offering tuition relief—or reimbursement—for the winner!”

Grian perked up at the word reimbursement.

“For freshmen, they’re offering to cover all four years of tuition. For older students, they’ll reimburse what you’ve already paid and cover the rest!” Excited murmurs buzzed through the classroom.

“What’s the competition about?” a student called out from behind Grian.

Professor Jumbo chuckled nervously. “Ah, excellent question! And one I… don’t have an answer to! They wanted to keep it mysterious. Fun, right?”

Another student asked, “When and where is this happening?”

“Seattle!” Jumbo announced with forced enthusiasm. “Next Friday! And we’ll be taking a very nice bus. State-of-the-art, even!”

The chatter dulled.

“A bus? That’s like… what, a twenty-hour drive?” someone muttered.

Dr. Jumbo coughed. “Class dismissed! Anyone interested, stay behind! Don’t forget your lab materials on Thursday!”

As students filed out, Grian stayed rooted in his seat. Full tuition reimbursement… that could solve so many of his problems. His eyes wandered across the room and stopped on Scar. The other senior hadn’t budged.

Of all people, it had to be Scar.

Grian didn’t have an issue with Scar. He hardly even knew the guy. He’d seen him- heavens knew he was hard to miss. He might have had a class with him here or there. But he certainly wouldn’t call them friends, or even acquaintances. No, Grian didn’t know this man well enough to dislike him.

Scar Goodtimes had the kind of face you’d see in a toothpaste ad—clean-cut, annoyingly symmetrical, and impossible to dislike without sounding petty. His green eyes were sharp enough to catch anyone’s attention but soft enough to make it seem like they weren’t trying, which was probably the worst part. He wasn’t movie-star handsome, though; there was a lopsided charm to his grin, a casual disarray to his hair, as if he’d just rolled out of bed and still managed to look better than everyone else in the room.

And then there was the scar, a slash across his nose and cheek that should have made him look dangerous but somehow didn’t. It added just enough intrigue to make people wonder without scaring them off. Polite curiosity, not fear.

He was tall, of course. Broad-shouldered. One of those people who looked like they should be wrestling alligators or modeling expensive suits, not reading superhero comics and watching Disney+ in the back of a lecture hall. And yet, for all his shiny charm, there was something Grian couldn’t stand about him—too perfect, too smooth, too... untouchable.

Even Grian could admit he had presence. The kind that made people lean in when he spoke, laugh when he joked, follow when he led. It didn’t matter if he was talking about Star Wars or theme parks or nuclear physics; Scar could sell you a dream and make you believe it was yours all along.

Which was irritating, really.

Really, very irritating. 

“So, I assume that you both are here for more information about the competition?” The professor asked, clearing his throat. 

Grian simply nodded, as the other student in the room chuckled and closed his textbook. “Now, come on, Dr. Jambo. Who would turn down a wonderful opportunity like this?”

“Ehm- it is Dr. ‘Jumbo,’ but- no, no, nevermind. This is certainly a great opportunity. You both are seniors, correct?” The professor smiled, while beckoning Grian closer.

“Well, I certainly am! Not too sure about pipsqueak over there, though,” Scar said, pointing his head towards Grian, who was making his way toward them. 

“Pipsqueak?” Grian said, the offense slipping into his tone making it sound higher pitched than he would have liked. He was not short. He may not have been as tall as Scar, but he was certainly not ‘pipsqueak’ status.

“Ooh, what an accent! ‘You from across the pond?’” He asked in a terrible British accent, prompting Grian to scowl.

“Yes, I am a senior. And yes, I am from the UK.” He scoffed.

“Lovely! Lovely. Good to see you both are getting along.” The professor laughed nervously, before handing them both some papers. “Here’s the permission slips to go on the trip. Have them turned in as soon as you can.”

Grian then quirked an eyebrow as Scar flipped to the last page, scrawled his signature on the bottom line, and handed it back to the professor. “Sounds good!”

“...Ah! Um. Okay, then.” Dr. Jumbo tucked it into a folder. “One more thing. I was… expecting a few more people to be interested in the trip…”

“Me too! Man, people have no sense of wonder and whimsy in this day and age.” Scar shook his head. “Who wouldn’t want to compete in a super fun game show?”

“So he’s not even in it for the prize money… of course. Why would he need it? People like him never do.” Grian thought to himself, judgmentally.

“Well. See, the thing is, the school agreed to cover the cost for the trip… as long as more than five people attend.”

“...Ah.” Grian sighed. He definitely wasn’t paying out of pocket for the chance to win money.

“No, no, no! Don’t make that face! Listen, if either of you have any friends who attend this school, that would work out! Yeah?” Dr. Jumbo offered nervously.

Scar sighed and snapped his fingers. “Man, if only my best buddy Cub hadn’t gone abroad this semester! He would have been so down for this.”

The professor's face fell further, and Grian huffed. “I suppose I can ask my younger brother… and he has a good few friends who are the… impulsive type.”

He perked up, and Grian swore he saw his mustache curl up at the ends. “Oh, isn’t that just wonderful? Well, I won’t keep  you much longer. Let me know if there are any updates!” He gave them both warm smiles.

Grian nodded curtly and grabbed his bag, keeping his face as neutral as possible. He could still hear Scar’s bright, effortless laughter as he stepped into the hallway, and for some reason, it made his jaw clench.

He shook his head, muttering under his breath. “Honestly. Who’s that cheerful over paperwork?”

Scar’s face—annoyingly symmetrical, stupidly charming, absolutely not worth thinking about—flashed briefly in his mind. Grian scoffed at himself, glaring at the floor as he walked. He didn’t dislike Scar. He didn’t like him either. He was just...there. Obnoxiously. Intrusively. Everywhere.

With a sigh, Grian adjusted his bag strap. A game show, a chance to clear some bills, and Scar Goodtimes for company on a 20 hour trip? This was going to be unbearable.

But tuition reimbursement was worth it. Probably.

He cast one last look at the classroom door behind him and started walking faster, as if that might put some distance between him and the man who, for some reason, still hadn’t left his head.

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Grian didn’t look up from the vegetables he was chopping as Jimmy came through the door. “How was your day?”

“How was your day?” Jimmy mocked in a posh accent, ditching his bag by the door and walking into the kitchen. “Ugh, stew again? Would it kill you to cook up burgers every once in a while?”

“Well, why don’t you cook then, Timmy?” Grian rolled his eyes, smiling a bit when his brother glared at the nickname.

“Nah. Just feed me better, won’t you?” Jimmy sat himself up on the counter and stretched. You could tell that they were related once you were told, but most people didn’t assume it at first glance. Grian focused on the steady rhythm of the knife against the cutting board, the sharp taps filling the space between them. Jimmy swung his legs idly from the counter, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world—because he didn’t.

It wasn’t fair, really. Jimmy was younger, but he was taller, stronger, and healthier, with that golden hair that always seemed to catch the light just right. By contrast, Grian's hair was a dull, mousy shade of blonde, perpetually messy from rushing between classes, work, and everything else he had to juggle. His glasses kept slipping down his nose, and his hoodie hung loose over his slight frame, doing him no favors.

“Burgers are bad for you,” Grian muttered, dumping the chopped carrots into the pot and trying to focus on the stew instead of the nagging feeling in his chest.

“Not if you make them at home!” Jimmy shot back, grinning. “You can put vegetables in them or something. Isn’t that a thing? Stealth health?”

“That’s not how it works,” Grian said, but his voice faltered. Jimmy laughed, loud and carefree, like he always did. The kind of laugh Grian hadn’t heard himself make in years—not since before everything had changed.

Jimmy leaned back on his palms, perfectly at ease. He had that easy charm that made people gravitate toward him, his honey-brown eyes bright and lively, a stark contrast to Grian’s almost-black ones that seemed to swallow the light. Jimmy fit in wherever he went, while Grian… didn’t. Grian kept his head down, went to class, and came home. That was his life now. School and keeping Jimmy fed, housed, and alive. He was fine with that. He had to be.

“Oi, you’re spacing out again,” Jimmy said, snapping his fingers in front of Grian’s face. “What, are you burning something? Because it smells fine so far.”

Grian swatted his hand away, feigning annoyance. “Get off the counter, you’re in the way.”

Jimmy didn’t budge. “You’re so grumpy, you know that?” he said with a smirk, his golden hair catching the kitchen light just enough to make it look like he’d spent all day in the sun.

Grian shot him a half-hearted glare but didn’t argue. He didn’t have the energy for it, not lately. “You’re impossible,” Grian mumbled, stirring the pot with a bit more force than necessary.

“And yet, here I am, gracing you with my presence,” Jimmy replied dramatically, his grin as blinding as ever.

For a moment, Grian considered throwing a carrot at him. Instead, he stirred the stew again, his reflection rippling in the surface. Jimmy deserved someone better than him—someone who could laugh like that, bright and unrestrained, without the weight of everything pressing down on them. He wished he could be a parent to him, instead of a clueless kid himself.

“Just don’t fall off the counter,” Grian said finally, glancing at his brother.

Jimmy raised a brow, amused. “Oh, don’t worry, mum. I’ll try to survive your world-class cooking.”

Grian sighed, but the corner of his mouth twitched, almost a smile. Almost. “Do you want to go to Seattle?”

Jimmy wrinkled his nose. “Um, why? You having a midlife crisis already? We only just moved to Cali.”

“No, not permanently, idiot.” Grian scoffed, adding more salt to the stew. “One of my professors got this offer for this competition up north. They… they offered to cover the winner’s full tuition.”

Jimmy’s eyes widened. “Shit, really? Like, the whole thing?”

“Yeah.” Grian said simply, turning the heat down to a simmer. 

“Huh, never took you as the type to take risks. Are we really that strapped for cash?” Jimmy snickered, but then hesitated when he saw Grian’s expression. “...Wait, G? Do we really not have the money?”

“Look, don’t worry about it. Just focus on getting through college. But yeah, it would be a huge load off my back if at least one of our tutions were covered.” Grian said, filling a spoon with broth and handing it to Jimmy. “Taste test?”

Jimmy took a sip and nodded appreciatively. “Mmm, cloves?”

“Yup. Does it work well?”

“So good.” He stuck the spoon back into the spoon and took another sip. “And of course I’ll go. I’d never let my poor, timid older brother be stranded all alone up north!”

“Ugh, shut it. You brat.” Grian said fondly, pouring a bowl of stew for his brother. “Oh, and also… Do you know anyone else who would want to go? Apparently the school will only pay for us to go if we have a certain number of people.”

“Oh! I’ll ask Joel. He’d totally be down.” Jimmy enthused, picking out some mushrooms from his stew and putting them on a napkin.

Grian rolled his eyes. Of course… Joel. Jimmy’s best friend since they were, what, eight? He never liked the kid, he was loud and obnoxious. “First of all, eat your vegetables. Second of all… any other friends?”

“Mushrooms aren’t vegetables, they’re fungus. And Joel is great! I love Joel, he’s my best mate! And he’ll probably bring Lizzie along- you like her! You said she was ‘intelligent’.”

“Correction: I said she was too intelligent to be dating him.” Grian tsked, scooping more produce into Jimmy’s bowl. “But fine, fine, do what you want.”

Grian caught his own reflection in the kitchen window—his tousled hair, the dark rings under his eyes from too many late nights spent juggling assignments and worrying about bills. He couldn’t remember the last time he had let himself relax.

“Well, you’ve got a plan now, right?” Jimmy asked, licking his spoon clean. “Joel and Lizzie are in, and you’ve got me. This could actually be fun! If we’re lucky, we could win that tuition money, and you won’t have to worry about—”

“I know.” Grian cut him off, his voice a little quiet. “But I still have to make sure it all works out.”

Jimmy slid off the counter, stretching with a yawn. “Yeah, yeah, I know. But hey, we’ve got this, G. Don’t stress it too much. It’ll be an adventure, and that’s something, right?”

Grian didn’t know if he was convinced, but he nodded anyway, offering his brother a tight smile. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Jimmy grinned back at him, oblivious to Grian’s unspoken worries. “Alright, well, I’m gonna go call up Joel. Don’t burn down the kitchen, okay?”

“I won’t,” Grian said, the barest hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Thanks, Timmy.”

Jimmy gave him a thumbs-up as he grabbed his phone, heading for the living room.

For a moment, Grian stood alone in the kitchen, staring at the simmering pot. He grabbed his phone and sent out a few texts of his own. It might not be easy, but if there was one thing Grian knew how to do, it was make things happen.

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

WATCHERS ENTERTAINMENT: PARTICIPATION AGREEMENT

This Participation Agreement (the "Agreement") is made and entered into as of the date signed below by the undersigned participant (the "Contestant") and Watchers Entertainment, a Washington state-based organization ("We," "Us," "The Watchers"), collectively referred to as "The Parties."

1. PURPOSE OF AGREEMENT

By signing this Agreement, the Contestant agrees to participate in the competitive event (the "Event") hosted by The Watchers Entertainment. The Event will take place at a location(s) undisclosed prior to commencement, and the Contestant agrees to follow all instructions, rules, and procedures as outlined by The Watchers Entertainment prior to, during, and after the Event.

2. ELIGIBILITY AND PARTICIPATION

Eligibility: Participation is exclusively available to individuals who are attending an accredited university and who are over the age of 18. 

Competition Details: The Contestant acknowledges that the full details, format, and rules of the Event are confidential and will not be disclosed until the Event has commenced. Contestants understand and agree that they will not receive specific information about the challenges until they are being executed.

3. CONDUCT DURING THE EVENT

The Contestant agrees to:

Participate in the Event voluntarily, adhering to all instructions and rules as set by The Watchers.

Refrain from engaging in any behavior that could endanger the integrity or safety of the Event.

Be subject to any changes, modifications, or additions to the Event as deemed necessary by The Watchers, which may include alterations to the format, location, and/or timing of the Event.

4. RISKS AND LIABILITY

Assumption of Risk: The Contestant fully understands and accepts the inherent risks associated with the Event, including, but not limited to, physical injury, emotional distress, mental fatigue, and potential environmental hazards. Contestant acknowledges that The Watchers will not be held liable for any injuries, damages, or losses sustained during the Event.

Indemnification: The Contestant agrees to indemnify, defend, and hold harmless The Watchers, its employees, agents, sponsors, or any affiliated parties, from any and all claims, lawsuits, liabilities, or damages arising from or related to participation in the Event, including, but not limited to, injury, death, trauma, or other personal harm.

No Claims: The Contestant waives the right to pursue any claims, whether civil or criminal, against The Watchers Entertainment for any reason related to the Event, including any unforeseen circumstances or injury occurring during the Event.

5. USE OF IMAGE AND PERSONALITY RIGHTS

By signing this Agreement, the Contestant grants The Watchers permission to film, photograph, and record their participation in the Event, including any pre- and post-event footage, and consents to the use of such materials in promotional and commercial content without compensation. The Watchers may record footage of the contestant at any time, regardless of the knowledge of the participant.

The Contestant further agrees that The Watchers may manipulate, edit, or alter any footage or content for the purposes of creating promotional materials, broadcast, or digital distribution.

6. NO DISCLOSURE OF CHALLENGE DETAILS

Contestants understand that: They will not be informed about the full scope of challenges or tasks until the challenges have been completed. The Watchers retain sole discretion over all challenge-related decisions, including when and how challenges are revealed.

7. LIMITATION OF LIABILITY

In no event shall The Watchers, or any party associated with the Event, be held responsible for any loss of property, emotional or psychological distress, or bodily harm occurring to the Contestant, either during or after the Event. This includes any injuries sustained due to natural hazards or accidents.

The Watchers shall not be liable for any loss, damages, or issues arising out of Contestant's failure to properly prepare for the Event, nor for any actions taken by Contestant during the course of the Event, including unauthorized actions or behaviors.

8. CONFLICT RESOLUTION AND ARBITRATION

Any dispute arising out of or relating to this Agreement or the Contestant's participation in the Event shall be handled exclusively by The Watchers' CEO. The Contestant waives the right to seek resolution through any third-party legal action, mediation, or arbitration. Decisions made by The Watchers’ CEO are final and binding.

9. TUITION REWARD AND WINNING CRITERIA

The Contestant acknowledges that:

The specific criteria for determining winners and the number of winners are at the sole discretion of The Watchers. While the potential for full tuition reimbursement is outlined, the Contestant understands that The Watchers reserves the right to adjust, limit, or eliminate this reward at any point before, during, or after the Event.

Final Decision: All prizes and rewards are subject to final decisions made by The Watchers, including the timing, manner, and distribution of said rewards.

10. ADDITIONAL TERMS

Changes to the Agreement: The Watchers reserve the right to modify, update, or amend this Agreement at any time. The Contestant will be notified of such changes, but continued participation in the Event will constitute acceptance of the modified terms.

Governing Law: This Agreement shall be governed by the laws of the State of Washington.

By signing below, the Contestant acknowledges having read and understood the terms outlined in this Agreement, and agrees to participate in the Event under these terms.

Signature:

Grian X. Solidarity

Printed Name: Grian X. Solidarity

Date: April 25th, 2024

Grian set the pen down as he read over the contract again, stamping down the wary feeling in his gut as he looked at his name penned in the bottom left-hand corner. The clattering of the kitchen utensils and the warmth of the evening seem so ordinary, but here he is, staring down the absurdly legalistic, typewritten terms on the page, each clause more convoluted than the last The contract was heavy with legal jargon and fancy words, but the prize was clear enough.

"Tuition reimbursement." Just like the professor had said.

He’d read that phrase a dozen times now, and each time, it felt like a little knot of tension in his chest tightened. His fingers traced the edge of the paper absently as his mind started to race. The words on the page blurred momentarily as Grian shifted in his seat. He was used to making decisions. He was used to being the responsible one. But this… this felt different. Too much was riding on this.

He looked at the contract again. ‘Assumption of risk.’ ‘Indemnification.’ ‘No claims’.

His fingers tightened around the edges of the paper. “They won’t take responsibility for anything. Not dangers. Not injuries. Nothing.” The thought of some unknown challenge, something they could change at will, gnawed at his gut. He couldn’t help but think of all the twisted legal loopholes in contracts that he’d seen referenced in those documentaries. The ones about people getting duped into signing away their lives for a chance at fame or fortune. Was this any different? Of course it wasn’t.

“Alright, here we go, Grian. Just hand it in, embarrass yourself on television, get the money, pay the tuition, get Jimmy’s life back on track. Simple.” He muttered to himself, pushing his glasses up his nose. His little brother didn’t deserve to live in his one-bedroom flat, eating the same stew Grian had made almost every day that week because he couldn’t afford to buy them meat. He should have been back home, with their parents, being young and reckless and not having to worry about whether his older brother was going to be able to pay his phone bill that week. 

If the competition was anything stupid or dangerous, he would make Jimmy back out. If they took away the prize, he would back out as well. No harm, no foul. 

He sighed and filed it in away in his bag.

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

“Alright, attendance one last time before we head out! Gem?”

“Present!” a girl called out, the only one there Grian didn’t recognize. She had long, curly red hair braided neatly down her back, and light circular glasses that sat on the tip of her nose. She didn’t even look up from her phone, her fingers tapping away on the screen with practiced ease.

“Grian?”

“Present.”

“Jimmy?”

“Here.”

“Joel?”

“Huh? What?” The boy with rich brown hair and a dyed green streak in his bangs looked up from his conversation, his arm still around his girlfriend. “Oh, here.”

“Elizabeth?”

“It’s Lizzie,” the girl with pink hair corrected politely, her voice light but firm.

“Ah, right. Sorry.” Professor Mumbo coughed awkwardly, tapping his pen on the clipboard. “Scar?”

Silence.

“Scar Goodtimes?”

Grian scanned the area, looking for the aforementioned student. The group began to fidget slightly, some checking their phones or adjusting their bags. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Grian saw him: a man half-jogging up to the group in dark blue jeans and a white t-shirt, suitcase tumbling haphazardly behind him.

“Aw, man, I’m so glad I’m not late! I had to drop off my kitty with my mom and I just couldn’t leave her cute little sad face!” Scar said, catching up to the group with his trademark smile, slightly out of breath but no less enthusiastic.

“Oh, well, that’s quite alright. Do try and let me know when you’re running behind, then. Don’t want anyone getting lost.” Mumbo chuckled, crossing his name off the list. He flipped the clipboard shut with a crisp motion. “Alright, then! Is everybody ready? Bags all accounted for? Snacks? Water?”

The group collectively murmured some affirmatives, though Grian was pretty sure Joel hadn’t even looked up to answer. Mumbo took the silence as a yes and began ushering everyone toward the minibus.

“We’ve got a full day of driving until we reach our hotel at 8. Then a couple more hours in the morning, okay? I assure you all that I passed my license exam with flying colors!”

The remark earned a few chuckles, though Grian wasn’t entirely reassured. He lingered at the back of the line, letting the others file onto the bus first.

The bus itself wasn’t exactly cramped, but it wasn’t a typical charter bus either. It was smaller, more like a glorified van with just enough seats for everyone, if they shared. Grian paused in the doorway, scanning the seating arrangements. The scene brought an unwelcome wave of deja vu, memories of scrambling for a spot on grade school field trips flashing uncomfortably in his mind.

Joel was up front, predictably next to Lizzie, who had claimed the window seat. Jimmy sat across from them, but as Grian approached, his little brother pointedly plopped his bag onto the seat beside him, a clear signal. Fine. Grian didn’t care. It didn’t matter.

Further back, the stranger, Gem, had sprawled across both seats with her legs stretched out, chatting animatedly on her phone. Grian’s eye twitched. If he were more confrontational, he might have told her off for hogging the space.

That left… sigh. Scar.

Scar seemed to notice Grian’s predicament immediately, standing up with a wide grin. “Here, you can have the window seat! I prefer the aisle anyway—don’t wanna climb over people if I gotta move!” He stepped into the aisle, gesturing with a salesman’s flourish.

Grian hesitated but relented, muttering a stiff “Thanks” as he slid into the seat. Secretly, he was grateful for the window seat. He hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before; he’d been too busy stressing and fretting over the competition and what his plans were if he didn’t win or it turned out to be a scam or they had to dress in embarrassing costumes or-

“So, you’re a senior too, huh?” Scar’s voice interrupted his spiraling thoughts. “Why haven’t I seen you around? You know, I pride myself on knowing almost everyone in our class. Are you a transfer? A spy? Or, wait—are you just really, really shy and nervous?”

Grian felt his face heat up as he heard Jimmy cough to hide a laugh from the seat in front of them. Irritated, he kicked the back of Jimmy’s seat, drawing a surprised yelp from his brother.

“I—no! I’m not.” Grian huffed, his voice sharper than intended. “I’m not any of those things. I just… mind my own business.

“Yeah, but… hm, I guess you’re just really quiet! And you’re pretty small, so maybe I just didn’t see you!” Scar shrugged carelessly, irritatingly.

Grian scowled and glared out the window as the bus began to move. Everyone always called him short, though he was statistically and verifiably average height. He was sure Scar in all his six-foot glory got some amusement out of it- Jimmy sure did. The day his little brother realized he’d outgrown him was apparently the highlight of his life.

Jimmy… he hoped that idiot had packed properly, like Grian told him to. He wouldn’t let him check his bag, claiming that he wasn’t a child and knew how to pack himself for a trip. Grian found himself slipping an extra toothbrush, toothpaste, hand sanitizer and deodorant into his bag anyway. Just in case of emergencies. He didn’t mean to treat Jimmy like a child, but it was hard not to when his brother loved to act like one! 

He stared outside as the homes and commercial buildings gave way to rocky, dusty hills scattered with dark green brush. His head leaned against the window as his body settled into the calming, rocking motion of the wheels against pavement. He would sleep for a bit.

He’d be somewhere new when he woke up.

A/N:

For the rest of the fic, if there is a trigger, "Trigger Warning" will be written in the beginning notes, and the full list of trigger warnings will be at the End notes. Particularly graphic scenes will be separated with a line, and there will be another line at the end of the scene. SFW Summaries of graphic scenes will be at the end!

Updates every Friday

Constructive criticism, feedback, and advice is always appreciated <3

Actually having a tumblr account is odd for me, I usually lurk without an account. Let me know if I need to fix anything!

Previous

Next (Coming 12/13/24)

[paigenoelchas-blog]

Mountaintops and Other Dangerous Terrain:

03: Derailed

last next

"The road back was long, full of ups and downs, but I kept on, because I knew that, eventually it would lead me back to you."

It was almost dawn when he viewed the bottom of the mountain. Almost dawn. He had to take advantage of what was left of the dark. Managing to push the thought of her out of his mind for a time and knowing that his concentration was key to his survival, he had been able to turn his focus to each step. Sometimes the path smoothed out, but a few times, the path simply ended and he appeared on the edge of a cliff with no idea how far down the drop beneath him would be. He tried to ignore the creaks of branches behind him and tune out the thought that he could, at any instant be a tasty dinner for a bear or wolf.

He was confident in most things. He knew how to stop criminals, he could change someone's future with the click of a key on his phone. He could rationalize and solve a myriad of problems, but he had no idea how to defend himself against a bear attack or see wilderness dangers in the dark. He supposed that this was a skill he should brush up on when all of this was over. If he survived and made it to her there were lots of things he needed to brush up on. Though he didn't like being afraid or feeling powerless, he was determined to push through, not allowing those thoughts to get the better of him.

Somehow without knowing how he accomplished such a task, he was almost to the bottom. It had been hours of walking and fighting the emotions that would weaken him. His steps regained some of their vigor at the thought of conquering the mountain and reaching toward those train tracks.

The bleeding had stopped a while ago, but left behind congealed blood caked to his body, the scrapes that covered his arms had stung every time he walked into a branch. His leg was turning purple and was a bit swollen. He needed to rest, but he couldn't stop, not yet. It wasn't a safe place to stay, one flashlight from his pursuers pointed in the wrong direction would identify him and then all would be lost. He couldn't get caught. He wouldn't do that to her.

If he only had his first aid kit and some water.

And time. He had no idea how long it would take them to find his tracks or simply stumble upon something that would lead them directly to him.

Suddenly, about a hundred feet from the place he saw the train, from the path he had chosen to follow, he found a seemingly abandoned railroad tie. Then he found another. And another after that. This must be and old bit of track. Weeds had grown up around the rails, nature having taking its rightful place. The train that he had intended to follow was headed south, this track veered to the southwest. He had a choice to make. Both tracks led away from the mines and the people there.

One path, the newer one, would certainly lead to buildings and more signs of a town, hopefully abandoned. Hopefully he could sneak into a shelter and find a place to rest. This route would also probably give him some access to water and hopefully he could find some bandages and alcohol to purify his wounds. It would also be easier for his pursuers to find him. It wouldn't be hard to figure that he followed the tracks. Jake knew this path would require much more stealth and planning.

The old route would give him a better chance to hide and more time to rest as it was difficult to see from a distance, but without shelter the quality of recuperation would be poor and he would more than likely be devoid of supplies. It might offer anonymity and with that came safety. If he had time to heal, perhaps he could blend in with other people much later down the road.

His body hunched over and his head fell in his hands at the thought of making this decision and the implications that the wrong choice would bring. Usually, he had very little problem with making a decision. He could quickly weave through the pros and cons of any situation and choose the best course of action without a struggle. Right now, he was in pain, a lot of it. He was hungry and thirsty and exhausted. He had barely escaped with his life. Right now, all he wanted to do was see her, and tell her that he loved her and let her know that he would do everything in his power to be there with and for her.

You will never be able to see her, to fulfill any dreams, or to ease her worry if you don't keep focused and get you lazy butt of of this rock.

He chided himself because he had to. This decision had to be made with urgency, he had to get to her and there was no way to do that without moving ahead. He didn't like it when there was no clear plan, but a plan wasn't possible today. He was not allowed to mourn his situation either. This was the fate that had been thrust upon him and he had to do the best he could. He would do it. He would find the strength to push forward. She was worth the pain. Her love was worth everything.

He looked at the well-traveled path and the hidden one, pausing as if to reconcile his decision. Then, with a sigh, he picked himself up off the rock that he had been leaning against, which was a feat in and of itself, and headed toward survival and a future with her.

[ladyofspoons]

hmmm… the thoughts…

executive dysfunction time…

got lots to do today… had plenty of time to do it when i woke up…

aaaaand all i have done is sleep and eat and scroll and play a little viddo game

but because i’ve managed to play game, and drive to get food

makes me feel that perhaps i’m not really depressed or executively dysfunctional

and perhaps

merely lazy

perhaps because i was able to do something

even if it wasn’t the thing i needed to do

but because something got done

then perhaps i could have done something else

and then maybe

i could have taken care of myself a little

done the dishes, taken a shower, brushed my teeth, put on lotion, cook, do the homework that has been sitting there waiting for me for a week now and is about to become overdue even though it’s the first assignment of the semester and it’s super easy and i could do it at any time

i could do it at any time

i could

do it at any time

but i didn’t

because i’m not really trying, evidently, then i must be unworthy to claim that i’m depressed

i don’t want to be one of those people claiming mental illness for clout or internet points or attention

but i do want attention

just, the kind of attention i want is not the kind that i need, and it feels unearned, because nothing has gotten done today

i’ve lain on the bed, and on the couch, and on the bed, and on the couch

and on the bed

and on the couch

and now here i am

back in bed

writing what might qualify as a poem, but certainly lacks any polish or flavor

it wasn’t necessary supposed to be one, a poem

just a text post

maybe something akin to a journal entry

and there’s no reason, either, for me to be feeling this way

nothing went wrong today

nothing except my brain i suppose

or did i imagine that?

for attention

as an excuse

another way out of the things i don’t want to do

i want somebody to pull me out of this, but i can’t accept their help

what have i done to earn it? i didn’t even try today, why should i ask someone else’s energy to do my tasks

and yes, my friends will probably rush to help

but i’ll never feel like i deserved it

here i am

laying in bed

cuddled up to a plush shark, covered in blankets, head resting soft on a pile of pillows

feeling alone

and cold

running out the clock, until i have to go to work

and using that obligation as an excuse for failing to make any progress whatsoever

my partner, my friends, maybe even my parents will all ask me what i did today, how i’m doing

and i’ll tell them lie to them

like i always do

“oh you know, i’m fine,” i laugh lie

“just busy,” another lie

“lots of work,” a half truth “so i couldn’t finish that schoolwork,”

that chore,”

that task,”

that thing that would help,”

that thing that you’ve been asking about for months,”

every time, a lie

or at least that’s what it feels like

but it’s second nature at this point

as natural as breathing, hell, moreso

why

i don’t want to hurt these people

even posting this will be a challenge

i know they’ll see it

and they care about me, and want to help

but if i let them solve my short term problems, the long term ones pile up

i’m so used to lying about what’s happening in my life, just to avoid disappointing the people who care about me, who have invested time and emotion and resources and love, into me

and i don’t want them to give up

to know that it’s all been a waste

to understand that while there is, something wrong with me, something broken inside that makes life just that much harder

i have a hard time noticing

amidst my own self sabotage

“i’m broken,” i lie to myself “i can’t do this as easily as everyone else,”

an illusory comfort, allowing laziness, forgiving my complacency and removing any reason to change

“i’m fine”

incapable of distinguishing lie from truth within my own mind, i tell these people

and greatest sorrow, they believe me

i tell them i’m not fine enough for them to believe it when i finally say that i am

not a single person has ever noticed

not even myself

[mythandlaur]

Code: July Day 4 - AU

I don't think this one requires much extra explanation, except for the fact that, in my head, this doesn't actually solve nearly as many problems as one would expect, because fate's cruel and life's complicated and just because someone wants to help doesn't mean they're always good at it.

Also, I'm gonna come back around to the art swap prompt later because I'm going the in universe route and my current idea would require me to research French classic rock.

...

The first time Jim sees it, he very nearly chucks his attendance clipboard clean across the field in shock.

It happens while he's taking roll for the tenth-grade co-ed class, out on the track and field on an unusually warm spring day. He'd just been calling out names, idly letting his gaze run over the students present, when it had frozen him mid-list.

Annie Courtemanche. Day student, wanted to be a gymnast back since sixième but had recently changed her tune to wanting to become a dancer, even pushing for a club which he'd been all for signing off on.

He happens to glance over her when she thinks he isn't paying attention, and catches her staring at the ground with narrowed eyes. Her eyes are normally a very striking light green, so it's even more obvious that something is horribly wrong.

Jim can't see the sign they'd talked about from this distance, but it almost looks like her pupil has shrunk to a pinprick without an iris, the whites of her eyes almost too pure a white, flickering like television static.

"...Courtemanche?" he calls.

She raises her head and her eyes are normal again, just like that--Jim might've written it off as his imagination, but knowing what it actually meant, he couldn't possibly brush it off. It was too...eerie and wrong for him to have made it up, anyway.

"Here," she replies with all of her usual enthusiasm. She even sounds completely normal.

"Right..." Jim tries to ease up his sudden vice-grip on the clipboard. Good grief, it was like he was on the front line. He wonders where Class 4e-A is right now, but he can't recall their schedule off the top of his head. He'll just have to wing it.

It's an hour-long period, mostly devoted to stretches and stamina training. Courtemanche immediately falls over and complains that she'd torn something and had to go to the infirmary, despite being more than accustomed to these warmups.

(Belpois had tried that same trick not long ago, with really awful acting. Given he'd immediately asked Aelita to accompany him, Jim had simply assumed it was a pressing matter and had let him get away with it.

But Jim was on high alert for the students abusing his generosity, and upon seeing Belpois skulking back to his room in the middle of the day without so much as a limp, had confronted him about his "twisted ankle" healing up strangely fast.

It was meant to be mostly a joke, a prompt for him to explain what had actually happened, but Belpois had stared at Jim with a look of absolute confusion. Then, his eyes had widened and his expression turned absolutely stricken--he'd slammed his door in Jim's face without a word.

By the time Jim got back to his room, he'd received a painfully clinical e-mail describing the situation, and he cursed himself because he'd already managed to fail these kids he'd decided he was going to try and protect as best he could.)

"Let me see it," Jim tells Courtemanche, jogging over. "I know a thing or two about this, myself."

Her face twists for half a second, but she dutifully holds out her leg, though jerks it back when he tries to feel her ankle. "Don't touch it! It hurts!"

("Victims seem to be altered down to the molecular level," the e-mail had said. "My theory is that they are, essentially, converted partially intro electomagnetic fields. We know they have very little mass, and apparently their skin does not feel like a human's at all.")

Jim plays stupid. "Looks just fine to me. Hey, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to get out of class before we even got started!"

He chuckles heartily and ignores the other students' strange looks. He heads back to the other side of the field, and sure enough, Courtemanche gets up on her own a few seconds later. He feels her eyes--not her eyes--burning into the back of his head.

She tries the same sort of trick several more times throughout the period with increasing intensity--it's too hot, she feels sick to her stomach, she fell on the track. The real Courtemanche was physically healthy as a horse and refused to let anything stop her from training. It's hard to deflect all of her attempts, and he suspects some of the other students think he's being some kind of heartless tyrant denying help to a sick student. He can't afford to worry about that right now, he just has to keep her here for as long as he possibly can.

Eventually, the bell rings and he calls the period, the kids beginning to disperse. Courtemanche abruptly turns towards the school building.

"Courtemanche!" Jim calls out before he can think. Her shoulders visibly stiffen. He has to come up with the rest of the sentence on his feet. "I, uh, may I speak to you in private, briefly? Don't worry, you're not in trouble."

"But--I promised to meet someone at lunch...!"

Jim waves a hand dismissively. "I won't keep you long. Come on."

The other kids stare and mutter amongst each other, but after a few seconds of gawking, the clarion call of food wins out. The other kids walk away, and then it's just the two of them.

Come on, Jimbo, you've faced scarier than this.

Courtemanche shuffles up to him, rubbing her elbow with the opposite hand. "I don't know what this is about, but I really do need to go."

Now he has to come up with a reason to keep her talking. "Do you?"

"What?"

"Come on, walk with me."

She follows him to the track with very noticeable reluctance, but at least she is still following. Time for him to prove his mettle.

"Now, I understand that passions can come and go over time."

"...Huh?"

"Let me finish. You've been working real hard lately, and I respect that, it's one of those things that makes me think you're really gonna make it out there, you know? But I can't help but notice you seem to be falling off the proverbial horse, uh, so to speak. In athleticism as much as in creative pursuits, burnout is a real concern, especially coming out of the honeymoon phase of a new skill. You learn and train and make progress, and then you hit a wall, and you ask yourself do I really want to do this? You get tired! Browbeaten! But if you keep throwing yourself against that wall forever, you're not gonna break through before you hurt something, you hear?"

"Um..." Courtemanche looks so confused Jim almost wonders if he'd been wrong this whole time. "I think you have the wrong idea..."

("Victims are capable of behaving in a manner very reminiscent of their normal selves. This is because the victim remains intact and aware, albeit in an altered state of consciousness. They can still carry out XANA's instructions without the direct intervention of the spectral agent."

Jim had read those words twice to process them, then glanced towards his door into the boys' hall. Belpois was speaking from experience.)

...His blood starts to boil at the memory. He takes a deep breath. Not now. Don't break now. "Maybe so! But given your behavior today, it is still something I want to bring up. You're..." He scratches his head. "You're a tough kid, Annie. Determined. You're a fighter."

("They cannot be reasoned with or dissuaded, but there is some potential ability to delay themselves with conflicting signals to the nervous system if they attempt to regain control of their body.")

"I don't think you'd let this take you down so easily--burnout, that is. You're smarter than that."

Jim catches movement out of the corner of his eye. He turns his head just in time to see a blurry blue shape sprinting for the path into the park, a purple one just behind him. Courtemanche had stopped walking for a moment, but he catches her looking in the same direction.

She abruptly checks her watch. "I won't, you're worried over nothing. I have to go."

Courtemanche shoves him slightly in the arm, but it's not enough for him to lose his center of gravity, and when she pivots to walk away, he manages to grab her shoulder.

It feels like putting your hand in front of one of those old CRT televisions, that sort of fuzzy sensation.

"Not so fast!"

It comes out louder and harsher than he'd meant for it to, and he can tell by the way she--it--goes visibly rigid. Its free fist clenches tight at its side.

In one smooth motion, she turns on her heel and faces him.

This time, he sees the sign clearly--along with the hateful, yet somehow empty glare that does not belong on her face.

"...Jim?"

Jim blinks. He's lying on the track, cheek stinging with road burn and nose full of the smell of burnt hair. "Uh...?" He blinks several more times, trying to recall how he'd wound up on the ground. Had he passed out? What time is it?

"Jim, are you all right?"

It's not the same voice that had called his name earlier, and he drags himself into a sitting position, rubbing at his stinging cheek and glancing over to the sources.

It hits him like a ton of bricks.

"S-Striker! Puma!"

Stern and Della Robbia both give each other a look and roll their eyes. None of them seem to have taken to Jim's call signs too well--oh, well, they'd come around eventually, that wasn't important.

Jim scrambles to his feet. "It's--Annie Courtemanche, she--!"

"We know." Stern grimaces and rubs at his shoulder. Jim notices his sleeve is burnt in several places. "Trust me, we know. She cut the elevator cables and Spidermanned down the shaft."

Della Robbia whistles. "Whoof, you got on the wrong side of her too?"

He points in the vague direction of Jim's face, and Jim rubs his stinging cheek. Now that he's more conscious, he's fairly certain it isn't just road burn. "She kept trying to cut out of class," Jim mutters. "I tried to stop her..."

"You really didn't have to," Stern says, brows furrowed.

"No, no, I did!" Jim tries to pull himself up to his usual level of swagger. "For my honor as your protector!"

"...Uh-huh."

"Well, I appreciate it," Della Robbia quips, digging around in his pocket and pulling out his phone. "We still somehow scraped by just in time again. I feel like I've been run over."

"From what Aelita says, you were run over."

"Only a little bit!" Della Robbia raises his phone to his ear, other hand on his hip. "...Hey, Jeremie! Yeah, Jim's fine, he just got a little zippity-zap. We still doing the thing?"

"We wanted to warn you before we went back," Stern explains.

"Eh? Are you sure you want to do that?"

Stern shrugs. "The elevator's totally busted and there's no way we'd be able to fix it ourselves. Besides, Jeremie's probably got a concussion and Yumi fell off one of the rafters."

Jim's fists clench. This kind of thing is what keeps him doing this, despite the personal and legal risks to himself--they talk about getting attacked and almost dying like it's an annoyance, like it's bad food at the cafeteria or a spot of rain. These are teenagers, they should be worrying about girls or sports or test results, not this.

He doesn't know what sort of thing this XANA is, going after children like this, over and over and over. He'd like to give it a piece of his own mind, but that's not something he can actually do himself.

"...Okay, see ya this morning, Einstein," Della Robbia chirps, hanging up the phone. "T-minus one minute, we're going to just before breakfast. At least I'm gonna know to go for the sausage seconds early this time."

"And that means I'll be allowed to eat mine without you giving me horrible ugly puppy dog eyes, right?"

"Hehe, no promises! And they're very handsome puppy dog eyes, thank you very much!"

It absolutely boggles Jim's mind how these two can talk so casually after something like this, and that just makes him angrier. They're used to it. Belpois had said they'd been doing this for no less than a year by the time he'd found out about it, and now things only seem to be getting worse for them. They shouldn't be used to it. It's not fair.

They don't know the depth of the situation they've put him in, really. They don't know what kind of hot water he might be in if he gets found out in all this. But he's willing to do it because who else will, because someone has to know, someone has to keep them from running themselves into the ground.

The world slows to a crawl and then turns white. Jim's stomach briefly attempts to vacate his chest cavity.

Jim's in the cafeteria, just finishing up early breakfast at the faculty table. He doesn't even wait for the disorientation to pass before excusing himself and heading into the courtyard.

(There's no point to it, he knows, everything is fine now. But that doesn't stop him from wanting to check on Annie Courtmanche anyway.)

[amadnessofwords]

turns out i don't even think another disabled person with autism wants me. which means i was right this whole time. wooo *says it sarcastically.*

Also his family hates me and has been actively trying to get rid of me since July.

they hate the way i handle relationships. Apparently putting your partner first and helping with what i can to the point of making myself exhausted and then asking for help from my partner because i am so exhausted is wrong of me.

i need to be super independent and do everything myself no mater what even with extreme fatigue.

this is where the problem started. it got worse after his parents got into the middle of the relationship.

apparently when they first met me they though they could 'fix me' and help get rid of my 'problems' umm that's not how this works. i didn't ask to be 'fixed' or my ' problems solved'.

I've had MS since i was 19 and i handle it to the best of my ability, my neurologist is happy with how i'm handling it so that should be good enough. but not for them. they want me trying this med or that med and even suggested a diffrent neurologist since mine is starting to retire. they don't think i'm doing a good enough job. they don't like that my diet limits my food and have even suggested that if i went on meds i wouldn't have to have such a restrictive diet and could eat a little bit more unhealthy. like what? excuse me but this is my health were talking about and i have managed to keep it stable for over 10 years without meds which is a miracle. also i never did good on any of the MS meds and that why i don't taken them, like i had really really bad reactions to all of the ones I've tried.

for those wondering my diet is a anti inflammatory diet which consists of. fish, chicken and turkey. lots of fruits and veggies. nuts and seeds. low salt, low sugar, no caffeine. i don't drink (i hate the taste of alcohol anyways). so it's a really healthy diet.

they have commented on how i exercise, i walk for about a hour and a half or two hours everyday. if it's summer i'll swim sometimes. they say it's not real exercise. i have been able to keep my muscles working well and keep in shape. his mom is like you need to sweat in order to have any real exercise.

they have commented on how i look, they don't like that my teeth are a little stained (it's from childhood. to much soda and sugar and not enough brushing) and want me to get veneers. umm hello keep your opinions to yourself on how i look. if you have a problem that's a you problem not a me problem and i'm not going to change just because you don't like it. i'm pretty sure veneers would bother my autism to.

speaking on autism they want me to go to a behavior therapist to work on it when the only problem i have had with it recently has been with them. like i went my entire adult life without problems and now i'm having them because they don't seem to understand boundaries or even how autism works dispite having a son that also has it. they seem to think it's something you can work past and make go away.

unless i'm pushed and pushed or plans changed last minute (i'm really bad with last minute changed plans, it takes awhile to process the change) or super over stimulated it dosn't usually come out. they have done all of these thigs to me and then blame me on my reaction and how i handle them (i sometimes have autistic fits where i rock back and forth or hit myself. they don't happen that often maybe in the last two year 5 times because of being to pushed to far but before that almost never)and tell me to 'work on it' without trying to understand why it's happening.

i'm also super introverted, i can handle people once in awhile, i enjoy events and conventions but then i have to go home and recharge. they were expecting me to go to a lot of social gathering and be okay when i have a low social battery which isn't going to happen. i'm going to end up exhausted and grumpy. and then boyfriend tells me "i used to be super intoverted and i worked really hard to be more extrovered you can do it to" umm i don't want to. and i can''t it's not in my nature to be around people every week without a break. i like my alone time.

they have also told me to not ask my boyfriend for anything and to do it myself if i wanted to go places and told him to ONLY go to the things he wants to do. it don't matter if i want to do something only if he dose, this is for going out as a couple.

so now i only go to places either by myself or with friends. i don't even bother asking him anymore after his parents got upset about him going with me to Knotts Scary Farm, and again asking him if he wants to go to San Francisco with me for my birthday (he dosn't and his parents don't want him going so i'm going with a close friend instead).

honestly i feel like i'm walking on egg shells around his parents and get really panicky if i do anything wrong. i broke out in tears the last two times they said i did something 'wrong'

the first time i was super sick with a cold so i asked him if he could take me to the store for a few items, i asked him when we were alone. i think one of his parents asked where he was going so he told them, i saw the frustation and anger in there faces so i tried fixing the problem by saying i'll just walk even if it'll make me sicker. they didn't like how i worded it so his dad in a very mean almost looking down on someone voice told me not to ask boyfriend to do anything special for me and to do it myself. the way he said it set me off a little so i told him i'm just going to go home. like he said it in such a way that i felt like i didn't deserve to be there, that asking while i was sick is wrong and i had no right to ask boyfriend for anything.

the other one was boyfriend said i could have some chocolate, we had agreed before i could take some from the bottom of the box since the top and bottom were the same and when i went to get one, i was going to ask again just to double check he got upset and told me no and that i shouldn't have taken the other one before when he said i could. i got confused about him going back on his word, his parents were there so i felt like i did something wrong and i ended up crying because of it.

on his end

he's stating to cross boundaries he know i put in place for safety like no sex at my house since i live with my mom and siblings and my mom is super conservative when it comes to sex. if she walks in on that i can be 1 kicked out of the house and 2 slut shamed. two things i don't want. but he keeps trying to break that boundary.

when i'm at his house he never asks what i want to watch or if i say what i want to watch he ignores it and just picks something he thinks i might like. most of the time i don't. i actually hate anime. he wont bother with anything i suggest.

there's more i just can't think of it right now, since i'm tired and it's late

i'm starting to feel just terrible and like i'm just pushed in a corner and walking on eggshells but in a diffrent way then with my ex. there's just a lot of judgment, he and his parents keep trying to change and fix me to what they want and wont listen to what i want and there's no just accepting who i am as a person.

he's recently told me if i don't start changing and working on my autism then he dosn't know if there even a future. who says that?

love is about accepting the other person where they are and helping them though life not finding someone and changing them into what you want.

i've neve judged him ever i just accept who he is as a person. apparently he cant do the same and neither can his parents.

he also said he dosn't know if he can be with someone who dosen't get along with his parents and at this point i doubt anyone is going to get along with his parents there hypocrites, rude and closed minded.

like i have noticed sometime they say something about me but when boyfriend dose the same thing it's okay. like make it make sense.

if this ends i think i'll just stay single focus on myself and my health and traveling. two failed relationships is good enough for me.

i highly doubt that anyone wants a disabled autistic person. what's happening now kinda proves it.

[ipsl0cs]

Enoch Yochai.

Interview by: Jesus Floratine

It’s a rare privilege to be able to interview a former GALSIM worker, or one of the few publicly known consultants for SSC. For them to also be an authority on liturgicode and ethical cloning, on greyspace politics and military deescalation, to possess an honourary Karrakin title… Well, there’s only one person to have done all that. But when I bring up any of these life-defining roles, he brushes it aside.

Enoch Yochai: I look back when I need to focus on the future. Every task, every job I have performed is a piece in a greater mechanism: and my mind doesn’t dwell on the details of the last gear, but on the motions the complete structure will perform.

He sits with quiet- no, silent dignity. Asking him a question feels like asking a magic mirror; you’re both looking straight at yourself, and at the exact truth you want to see. His legendary charisma evident in that, I suppose. In how it feels easier to be unknowing around him, because he’ll probably know, and will definitely set you right with more knowledge than before. Enamoured as I was, you’ll have to excuse me yet another question regarding his legendary reputation.

Floratine: People have called you a ‘new Neo-Anthropocene man’. Your thoughts on this?

Yochai: I prefer the simpler title of ‘polymath.’ Especially given all of the unsavoury Sec-Com elements that people don’t seem to think about nearly enough when we consider the Neo-Anthropocene. Like the renaissance long before it, those times had a background of blood: as a canvas, both behind and part of all the art and knowledge we enjoy from it. No, no… I may be getting on but I am no relic from a better past than there ever was.

I simply like to dabble, is all.

F: For someone who is ‘getting on’, you’re in remarkably fine form. But on the subject of your dabbling, would you tell us more about the new venture that’s shaken all public perception?

That laugh of his is easy and welcoming; for someone cutting such an impressive figure and in such a sharp suit, no less. (I must have seen ten times the socialites in bright white suits since he made such a name for himself in them- though the light greys he has migrated to compliment his true silver hair well indeed.) Even with all those corners and immaculate lines, that seem so coldly imposing on so many of our more detached officials, he never seems anything less than a person- if anything, he often seems more than one. Which is why that new career change of his is so odd.

For those reading this article who are out of time as to this latest development; well, I may as well let the man himself introduce you to his first, and rather odd, large-scale management role.

Y: Cabal-A Computing and Combat Contractors. A service melding the force and agility of a modern, frame-based small-team private military group, with the resources and knowledge of galaxy-class technological professionals. Two kinds of groups working in tandem to cover the weaknesses of the other, and to simultaneously provide the two most critical services commonly needed in the longer arms of our galaxy.

F: The longer arms, you say? So this group, Cabal-

Y: CA-3C, if you wish to keep it succinct.

F: Thank you; CA-3C will be operating in the long rim, then? Us core system residents will be missing you!

Y: I will admit that the long rim in particular is not an area of space I am particularly involved in, now or in the near future- different directions have piqued more of my interest. And I will admit that there is a lot I will miss in the indeterminate future about our Union’s core worlds.

But equally, I cannot preach travel enough to any non-cosmopolitans reading. For as much rougher as the edges of the diaspora may be, it’s only through roughness that we can smooth out all the problems that plague us still. We don’t begrudge sandpaper its coarse grain.

I have found that every problem I have solved, the solution has been found where there was still adversity. It is by solving other problems that we better understand our own- an understanding that we can take in cycles, to solve other matters once again. All the problems that remain to be solved, and the infinite approaches to them; that has always made the diaspora, dare I say it, the cradle of modern personhood and philosophy.

F: A bold statement, indeed! To say that our core worlds owe much of their culture and progress to those on the fringes of our galactic hub- well, we see it often, don’t we?

Y: Something like that. Yes.

F: Well, one last question then, that I’m sure people have been intensely curious about; I certainly have. The old rumours that you were the pilot participating in the grand Pankrati tournament of 4901, that you were the one competing under the callsign “Keter”… They’ve been resurfacing given your move into mercenary work, so regardless of that competition-

Y: Which I almost won.

I confess, my sputtering here made for a fair pause in the interview- so I apologise for any candidness lost as a consequence.

But yes, it is true! For any who doubt the veracity of this, I can attest to seeing the actual registration forms myself- and the KBPL have announced they too will be releasing official confirmation, simultaneously with the publication of this piece.

Y: It’s actually a common mistake, that my callsign was Keter. It was, and still is, the name I give that frame. When I participated in the tournament, I did so under no callsign at all.

But, no, to answer the question I am sure you intended to pose, I myself will not be a combatant. Mercenary work is beyond my skillset as little more than a hobbyist of a spectacle fighter. But never let it be said that I lead a group without having walked at least half a mile in their shoes. Nothing worse than a bureaucrat who knows nothing of reality on the ground barking orders. I stand by that mow more than ever.

F: Well, I’m certain only the best of the best will be working for you, and furthering whatever noble endeavours your group decides to aid.

Y: I already have much of a team assembled. And not to disparage any contemporaries of mine in any field, but there is often a better option than the best in a field- and that is the one who doesn’t fit in it.

I’ve said this about every project, but I plan on changing everything we know, that I can.

F: You haven’t disappointed us yet!

Y: Thank you kindly.

As I see it, the people who couldn’t possibly join any group but mine are surely the ones that will exact that change- the ones who aren’t content with perfect motions in a complete world.

I don’t need a perfect algorithm, no. I have that handled. We need enough people, who are perfectly people. Ones who can’t help but push us all into the future.

That’s what we need. It’s what I need.

And it’s what I’m going to have.

[casspurrjoybell-17]

Heart’s Choice - Chapter 41 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Carlos Martinez

I walk towards John like a man in a dream, half unsure he's not a figment of my imagination.

The dogs have no such doubts and leap about him with the playfulness of puppies, sniffing at his shoes and the hems of his trousers, as if every new scent is a gift he brought back especially for them.

At last, he raises his hand and speaks a single, soft command.

Instantly, they lie at his feet, ears pricked forward, their attention fixed on me as if to say 'your turn.'

I stop with a few feet still between us, uncertainty paralyzing my tongue, choke out the cleverest words I can conjure and state the obvious.

"You're back."

The corner of his mouth quirks but he doesn't quite smile.

"Seems that way."

"To stay?" I rasp.

His expression remains guarded, self-protective almost.

"That's up to you."

The fitful evening breeze sweeps down from the grave-dotted hill, tousling the branches of the old elm overhead and stirring the leaf litter at our feet.

It catches at the ends of John's long black coat, reminding me of the words to a song Aunt Toni used to love.

There are no mistakes in life, some people say It is true, sometimes you can see it that way But people don't live or die, people just float

She's gone with the man...

I shake my head.

"Whether you leave or stay isn't up to me but if you leave again, I hope you take me with you."

Something in his expression eases and the tension in his shoulders relaxes a bit.

"I thought you might have changed your mind. I thought..." before he can say something stupid, I step forward, closing the gap between us and take hold of his lapels, pulling him into a bruising kiss.

Standing on my toes, I wrap my arms around his neck while he grabs me in a crushing embrace that squeezes half the breath from my lungs and returns my kiss with devouring passion.

His cedar-wood scent fills my lungs and heat floods my body as my heart beats furiously against the cage of my chest.

"I'm still sure," I gasp when he lets me up for air, his fingers tangled in my hair as he holds the sides of my head.

"I still want you. Nothing has changed, including my mind."

He backs off a little, his green-gold eyes catching the pale afternoon light as they flick between mine.

"You can't say nothing's changed. Our whole lives and way of being has changed. I just want you to be happy."

"I'll be happy if you stay."

"Then I'll stay."

I manage a half-teasing smile.

"See, that wasn't so hard."

"Smartass."

"Better a smartass than a dumbass," I quip and he laughs.

"I'll love your ass either way."

I pull him close again.

"Take me home and prove it."

He grins, showing off a pair of sharp canines.

"My pleasure."

"How did you get here, anyway?" he asks.

"I took the bus," I say, nodding in the direction of the nearest stop, though it's over a mile away and well out of sight.

"Sold my truck for scrap. Crappy insurance wouldn't pay to fix the bullet holes. Figured it wasn't a good look for a guy dating a cop."

"Hmm. Guess I'll just have to buy you a new one, then."

I frown up at him.

"John. I don't need your money or David's money to make my problems go away. I believe in us but we have to be equals for this to work."

"We are."

He smiles and kisses me again.

"And as such, we may give gifts freely and expect nothing in return. We can share problems, too. I solve some of yours, you solve some of mine. In fact, I got a problem right now."

"Oh, yeah? What's that?"

"I'm hungry."

A shiver races up my spine as his lips graze my jaw and side of my neck.

My eyes widen and my voice goes oddly soft.

Somehow, in my joy at seeing him again, I'd half forgotten that part.

"Oh. I guess that is... a problem I could solve."

"But you don't have to," he says, drawing back again and giving me room to breathe.

"You never have to, Carlos. Not ever."

"But I want to," I whisper, pulling him close again.

A soundless laugh brushes my skin.

"In that case," he murmurs.

"I guess I got two problems, now."

He presses against me, leaving little doubt exactly what sort of 'problem' he's talking about.

I laugh in turn.

"Guess I can solve that one, too."

"Tell you what," he says, his warm breath tickling the side of my neck.

"I let you take care of me because you want to and you let me buy you a new car because I want to. Deal?"

I smile against his lips.

"Deal."

[frozcnlight]

An apologetic smile rushed over Miran’s lips and if she realized the manner of Beryl taking more books than her, she didn’t comment on it. Either because of being glad that she helped despite having declined her offer not too long ago, or because she felt no need to do so. Once she stood again Miran brushed one hand quickly over her skirt in order to straighten out any folds her previous position might have created or in case there was any dirt on it. Then she looked at her friend joyfully. “Back to the library. I have borrowed them for studying.”, she explained, her gaze shifting to the books in her hands, “I was so scared of doing bad in the coming exams, that I had to fall asleep while reading them. Else I couldn’t close my eyes.”.

She laughed nervously, hugging the books closer to her body while she stepped forward in the direction of the college’s library, “But I don’t feel like they were of great help. So either I’m a lost cause or just lucky to study something I spend my life with anyway.”. Though, she couldn’t really consider herself as ‘lucky’. It certainly would have been greater to her if she could just have decided her own future and whatever career she wanted to pursue. But alas, such was a dream she could not grasp.

“Actually, trying to help you to solve your problem seems like a nice change. My head might explode if I have to read or hear another thing about hospitality management…”

@dreadbornesaint

Beryl wastes no time in kneeling down and assisting Miran gather the now fallen books. She chooses not to make a comment on it, knowing that the situation itself is embarrassing enough. Though even she would admit that the timing itself had been almost comedic, the books falling so soon after saying she didn't need help. But she supposes that it is very like her friend to try and do everything on her own in the first place, until the circumstances become something she can't handle.

“Yes, I can take half.” Despite her verbal agreement to split the books evenly between the two of them, Beryl takes on a few extra. Enough to lessen the load on Miran, but also evenly enough that the excuse that she merely misjudged how much was half would be believable, should Miran call her out on it.

“Where do we need to take these?” She looks to the other for guidance, contemplating the offer. A discussion over tea is certainly enticing. Hers is a brief matter that could be resolved fairly quickly, but Beryl wouldn't turn down the opportunity to spend time with her friend. 

“I do not mind, we can get some tea afterwards too. You know I would never decline your company.”

[moneymasnn]

Flower girl and Her Football boys| A Mason Mount And Ben Chilwell Love Triangle

Chapter 10 The final pov:

Masterlist

Notes: Im actually so sorry for how long it has taken me to write this lol, but I won't lie I kinda lost motivation for It. well this is the ending, dont be mad lol but I think I went with the best option! Im sorry in advance for the broken heart lmao. But I'm sorry if there is any mistakes, I love you all thank you for reading and liking!!!!!!!

Warnings: Contains swearing, SMUT, and a broken heart I'm sorry :((

Your palms were sticky and sweaty, your skin felt almost sticky, your hair looked frizzy and your clothes felt like they were suffocating you.

All simple signs of anxiety you suppose.

But anxiety over what? Just the fact the time is currently 6:49pm, reading you had exactly eleven minutes to get your shit together before at exactly 7pm when your ex "situationship", if you can even call it that, would be at your door collecting you for a meal with his family.

You had spend the last hour perched upon the soft carpet on your bedroom floor, your legs crossed as you delicately brush some rose to your cheeks in your mirror. No music blasting in the background like usual, no distant hum of the tv echoing though your home, just silence. Silence so you could think about how you had managed to get yourself in this mess today, but was it really a mess?

If you were to ask Mason, he his brain simply wouldn't correlate it to be a mess, just a mere problem that he was willing to solve.

So when he knocked on your front door at exactly 6:59pm, smartly dressed and stood up straight with a bunch of red roses his mother had forced him to pick up from the shop on his way to get you. His hair blew in the wind as he let out a long deep breath, hoping you wouldn't notice his nerves.

He felt wrong doing this, you both hadn't spoke in three months, and the first time you did would be in his favourite Turkish restaurant with the rest of his family.

He knew you needed to speak first, but mason was silently hoping you would pretend with him for a night, pretend that life was perfect and you didn't fuck his best friend.

Mason tenses as the thought flashed though his mind, the whole reason he wasn't speaking to you in the first place. If he was to sit down and write a list of the things that went wrong in your "situationship" you would have appeared as a walking red flag. But mason was willing to ignore every sign that told him he should walk away, instead he followed his heart, because as much as he hated to admit it, his heart wouldn't allow him to ever forget you.

When you pulled on your shoes and opened the door the first thing you saw was Masons wide girin, as his eyes sparked as his gaze lingered over your figure for a moment. His hands were cliched around the bouquet, the top button of his shirt was undone and his trainers were pristine, he hadn't changed at all.

"Hi." Was all he managed to say as he extended an arm to wrap around you in a quick hug. But he couldn't help bur feel every fear melt away as his arm brushed your shoulder, even if it was for a second.

"These are for you." He had that's stupid school boy grin on his face that always managed to erupt butterfly's in you.

"Thank you mase."

After a moment of silence when you ran to place the flowers in your kitchen Mason leaned on your door frame, trying to steady his breath and compose himself. But he couldn't wipe his smile as he watched you approach him at the door again.

"Ready?"

In the car was just you and Mason, his mum opting to take two cars since you wouldn't all fit into one. Nevertheless, it gave a huge window of opportunity for the both of you to talk about literally anything, but instead the only voice to fill the car was the faint muffle of roman kemp on radio one.

The car ride was short but as you parked up and Mason turned off the ignition he sighed and turned to you as a sigh he had something to say, causing your eyes to be glued to him.

"Y/n, I havent- i havent said anything to my family, so I think my mum has this idea that we've been dating for like the last six months. I know that might make you feel awkward or uncomfortable but I didn't really have the heart to explain to my mum why we stoped, you know, talking but if you-"

"Mase, its okay. Let's not overthink this." You cut off his nervous rambling, trying to calm him down.

"Yeah." He awkwardly laughs, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Im not really sure what this is, but if it is a a second chance, I really appreciate it, mase."

Mason just flashed you a warm smile before he had dashed out the drivers seat, slightly sliding across the bonnet of his car so he could open your door for you.

"Such a gentleman." you smiled.

"Always."

The dinner was far from awkward, you spent most of your time tuning in and out of conversation with Masons family. Paying most of your attention to his niece, who was handing you crayons to help her draw.

You couldn't help but fawn over they way his gorgeous chocolate eyes glisten whenever he made summer giggle, pointing out how adorable her two little front teeth were.

The conversation about yours and masons current relationship status hadn't happened yet, which had eased a lot of tension between the two of you, taking a weight off your sholders.

You didn't think your staring was that obvious, but clearly it was when behind you Masons mum was fawning over the way you looked at her son.

"So y/n, I take it we'll be seeing you on Friday?" Masons mum had asked you.

The final. The game, for some odd reason, Ben had tried so hard to desperately to drag you too.

Masons head popped up at the question, he was about to technically invite you there and then, but your words had stoped him.

"I think so. Ben got my brother some tickets for his birthday, but I'm still not sure if I'm going yet." You thought it was better to have just pulled the plaster off, not wanting mason to find out sooner or later who had already invited you to the match.

Masons jaw clench look hadn't gone unnoticed by you, or his mother.

"Ben? As in our chilly?" Masons mum smiled at you as you nodded in a reply.

"That was lovely of him." She smiled turning back to masons dad.

Mason was undoubtedly staring into your side profile, but you refused to be the first to turn to him.

"Ben, huh?" Mason said with raised eyebrows.

"Mhm."

"Do you guys, you know, still talk?" He didn't want to have this conversation at at dinner table with his family, but he had to know what he was getting himself into.

"Occasionally." You shrug it off as a sign he had nothing to worry about. You lent over Mason, picking up the red crayon to carry on drawing on summers colour book.

The dinner flew by, you saw goodbye to moans family as they made their way back now to Portsmouth. Noticing the sly winks of approve his family had given him behind your back, as you noticed the small blush cheer on his cheeks. You're pretty sure you heard his dad say "She's a keeper." And that no doubt made you grow the same colour as a tomato.

When masons had pulled up to your house he had brown to walk you up to the door, ignoring you protests.

"So... will I see you at the bridge on Friday?" Mason smirked, fiddling with his fingers behind his back like a child as he stood on your door step.

"I dont know yet." You giggle.

"I'd love it if you could?" Mason pouted at you, blinking a few times to add to the puppy dog effect he was trying to pull off.

"I think about it." You smirked.

"Night mase." You lent up and kissed his cheek, noticing the pink blush on his cheeks before starting to disappear behind your front door.

He doesn't know what it was that made him do it, the way your hair lingered along the corner of your mouth was enough for him to imagine lifting his thumb to place it on your soft lips, and kiss you the way he had done in the past.

But as you did Masons foot had budged in-between, stopping the door.

"Mason? Your left pinky toe alone is literally worth more than my house and car combined, please don't break it in my door-"

But your sarcastic little comment was interrupted as Mason brought his hands up to your cheeks, cupping both of them as he pulled you in for a harsh passionate kiss.

Mason had stepped award, causing you to step back as he pushed you onto your apartment, slamming the door shut with his foot.

As his impulses took over as he found his hands gripped down on your waist, swiftly moving them down to grab a handful of your arse, causing you to moan in his mouth. Then moving them down again to your thighs and swiftly lifting you up and pushing you against his wall.

His hands moved back up as he squeezed your bum again. He loves the way you moaned into his mouth, as he pulled away for air, but he pulled back on your bottom lips with his teeth.

"I've wanted to do that for so long." He said. you just smirked as you peppered kisses all over his nose.

"You know what you've got to do now?" You smiled at him.

"Whats that?" He asked breathlessly, a smile toying on his lips.

"We need to make up for lost time."

Mason smirked as he just pushes his lips back onto yours in a teeth clashing kiss, letting his young rub over yours as he savoured the taste on your lips. And the heated kiss was still never separated, him wanting to hold you as close as possible.

The kiss was full of passion and unspoken words.

But as he was making his way to your stairs, both hands still on your arse he couldn’t wipe the Cheshire Cat smile off his face, as he was finally about to do what he's being dreaming about since the day he walked out your door.

As he got up the first step he heard your breathless moans as he stopped on the first step, placing you down.

Mason got on his knees a few steps blow you, as you figured out what was about to happen. Mason kissed along your thigh, relishing in the way you threw your head back.

"Have you ever been eaten out on your stairs before, y/n?"

You shaved your head in a 'no' suddenly nerve taking over you.

"Use your words baby. Do you want me to make you cum on the stairs?"

"Please, please, mase." You begged him, felling the wetness drip into your panties.

"You wish is my command." He smirks up at you.

He pushed your dress up to your waist, pulling down your lacey thong to your ankles, pulling them off before rolling the up and placing them I his back pocket.

He then pulls his phone put his pocket too look at the time, you frown when you see the look on his face.

"Mase?" You asked, but he interrupted you.

"I promised Nathan I'd pick him up at nine."

"What time is it now?" You frowned, sitting forward to protect your exposed self.

"8:51"

There was a silence as mason pushed his phone back into his pocket, then using his hands to spread your thighs back open.

"Should we see how quick I can make you cum for me?"

He then moved back down as his hand hooked under you thighs, as he threw both your legs over his head, balancing your thighs on his shoulders. As he squeezed your left thing with his hand while peppering hickeys down your right thigh.

"Your on the clock, mount." Referencing to the fact he hasn't touched your core yet.

"Don't worry darling, I'll be quick." You liked this cockiness that was coming out of him, it turned you on like crazy.

He then wasted no time in moving his face down to your core, you moaned out as you could feel his hot breath on your core. Mason could see your wet glistening pussy, and he couldn’t wait to taste you. 

Mason hummed as he fattened his tongue over your pussy, before circling around your entrance, saving the taste of you. Before he licks up your slits and lightly flicks his tongue over your clit.

He swirled his tongue around you a few times, before using his fingers to open your slips, spreading your wetness all around. He was slow with his tongue, but he made sure with every swipe he made he was hitting your clit.

You felt almost embarrassed by the state he had you in so quick, your body was sprawled out on the steps as you grabbed onto the handrail due to immense pleasure, you was shocked in how quick he had you feeling you orgasm.

He was right, he is good with his feet, and tongue.

"Mase, I'm gonna cum." You breathless words sent mason in to overdrive, not to mansion adding to the dent in his boxers.

He started to hum into you, flicking his tongue over you clit as he watched you moan out in pleasure.

"Cum for me princess."

He use of the pet name was enough for you fingers to pull on his hair, pushing his face into you as you moaned out in pleasure.

Mason sucked your clit for a while before pulling off with a pop. He knew you would be sensitive, so he blew some air on the nub looking up at your flushed cheeks with a smirk.

He bumped your clit with his nose before speaking up, his warm breath teasing you as he moved up to kiss your lips.

"Who did it better?" He breathed onto your open mouth.

"Mase-"

"Answer the question y/n." He said in a stern voice, kissing your jaw.

"Did he make your thighs shake like this?" Mason says as he wraps his fingers around your shaking thigh.

"No."

Mason leaned back, he looked you up and down like he was staring at art, his art.

Your not really sure what happened next, his phone started to ring, it was Nathan and mason had to leave. Leaving you bunched up on your stairs, you cheeks red as you wondered, what the fuck just happened.

You tried to think about that had happened after the meal, you and mason hands texted since, but eventually, with a lot of convincing from your younger brother, you decide to go.

So there you was, on a gloomy Friday night, sitting in the stands of Stamford Bridge watching as the lights illuminated the pitch.

Your little brother and your sister by your side, as you watched the match play out. The current score being 0-0 at half time, the payers were clearly getting flustered and impatient. You could see a face full of frustration as Masons stomped down the tunnel, so you decided pulled your phone out.

Flower Girl:

I know it probably doesn't mean that much, but i'm watching from the stands and I'm so proud of you no mater the outcome mase.

Its not liked you expected a reply, you most likely would have deleted the message just before the match ended anyway. So when your phone buzzed in your pocket you were shocked at the message that popped up.

It means more than you know x

Was all he had replied, you stared at your phone screen for a while. A slight blush reaching your cheeks as you tried to contain your smile.

The match had resumed and the boys started to walk out the tunnel, you tired to ignore masons occasional glances in the stands, worried he might have been looking for you, and scared that he actually might find you. You didn't really want to hang around after, you want really sure what was going on with the both of you, and it was the fact that Ben was obviously also here.

The match was at the 81st minute, the boys had been awarded 3 minuets extra time. You watches as Mason had provided kai with the perfect link up, giving Kai a perfect opportunity to score.

You stood up in your seat, screaming when the ball hit the back of the net.

They had won.

The whistle was blown and the blues had won the champions league, your heart burst of joy for mason. Making your way down the stands to leave you heard your name being yelled, you tired your hardest to ignore it and carry on walking liked you couldn't hear your name being belted out. But your little brother had beat you to it.

"Y/n, Mason Mounts literally yelling at you!" he smiled as he pointed to mason, who was hanging over the barrier, being pushed back by security a while he tired to climb over the railing.

You giggled at the fact he was being pushed back and shouted at by security. But before you knew it, you was running down the steps to him.

You stood in front of him, the small barrier blocking you from him as his smile gave you butterflies.

"Hey." he breathlessly says, rolling his eyes at the ranting security man.

"Hey, champions league winner!" you smile, it was an immediate reaction for you to fling your arms over Masons shoulders.

But it shocked you when he mumbled a quick "jump" as he quickly lifted you over the barrier onto the pitch. Ignoring all the yells from security as he grabbed your had, pulling you further out to the pitch.

You both stood laughing for a while before you realised how much you had missed his smile, his laugh, his little freckles on his nose. And it hit you right then who you wanted. Who you had wanted this whole time. And why it scared you so much to be with him.

You had fallen for him.

"What? Have I got mud on my face ?" Mason questioned at your staring.

"Im really proud mase, you really deserved this." You smiled up at him.

You could see the tears priming in Masons eyes as he hugged you again, properly this time. Your hands wrapped around his neck as his hands want to your waist and back. Pulling you as close as possible.

You melted into the hug the physical contact you craved from him. You heart a few sniffles on your shoulder as you pulled back your head to see his face. His eyes were slightly puffy, and you knew he was holding back tears.

"Hayfever, am I right?" You giggled at the tears priming in his eyes, you knew how much this meant to him, and to be able to share this experience with him felt like an honour.

Mason giggled before placing his head on your shoulder, "Thank you. Thank you for coming." He mumbled into you.

You brushed your hand through his head before pulling away to look into his eyes, you really wanted to kiss him, even if you was standing in the middle of a pitch with prying eyes. You thought about to for a moment, but he had already beat you to it, before he smashed his lips onto yours in a teeth clashing kiss. You tensed at first, but that all to familiar feeling of Masons lips on your was enough to have you melting into the ground.

You hands tightened around his neck as mason leaned into you, his arms wrapped around your back so he could lean your back as far as possible.

When he pulled away he just looked into your eyes, smiling for a second before you both stand up straight, trying to ignore the few whistles coming from fans that were still lingering in the stands. And you brother who had has shouted "My sister just kissed Mason Mount." Loud enough for the whole stadium to hear.

"Y/n?"

"Mase." You smiled up at him.

"Do you think by any chance I can take you on a second first date?"

You giggled up at him before standing on your tiptoes to place a gentle peck to his lips, "Does that answer your question?"

"Mhm... Not really I think I need another one?" Mason smirked as you stared to peppered kissed all over his face.

"Your coming back to mine after this." He told you.

"Is that so?' You smirked at him.

"Mhm, I need to finish what I started the other night." He smirked, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead as your arms wrapped around his torso.

What you didn't know was Ben had watched the whole interaction from the sidelines, although there was this slight pit in the bottom of his stomach. He couldn't help but smile at the sight of both of you happy together.

Mason had noticed you look over to Ben, sympathy in your eyes as Mason nudged your shoulder, signalling to you to go over to him.

"Go to him." Mason shrugged with a smile.

"Are you sure-"

"Y/n, it's okay."

You smiled up at mase, placing a small kiss on the top of his cheek bone before walking over to the side of the pitch to where Ben was standing.

"Hey you." Ben smiled as he wrapped you on a quick hug. You mumbled a hi before pulling out of the hug.

"Ben, listen I-"

“Y/n. Its okay. Honestly, I’m okay, we’re okay.” He said, his voice cracking slightly, as he watched the tears brimming in your eyes. 

You knew you was going to have to break a heart, or two, but you had never imagined it to hurt you this much.

"Im still sorry, for what i've put you through. You didn't deserve that, Ben." You try push your tears back and force a smile.

“I just think,” He sighed, taking in a deep breath.

"I just think, I think that there was this part of me that wanted to love you, but I guess I just didn't know how. And probably the fact I was too late.” Ben admitted.

You felt your heart drop at his words.

"Ben, I really am so-" but he interrupted you, not wanting any pity.

"Dont apologise for how you feel, y/n. You're a wonderful girl, and you make him happy, he deserves to be happy, and so do you. Plus, who am I to stand in the way of love." Ben bumps your shoulder with a smile.

"Thank you, Benjamin."

"I really hope you find someone who will give to you what I couldn't." you told him

"Me too."

"Were still best friends, right?" he asks you, genuinely concerned that he docent want to lose your friendship over this, and deep down you knew he was secretly meaning mason too.

"Of corse, silly." you smiled up at him.

Ben just flashes you the warmest smile before wrapping his arm over you shoulder and kissing the top of your head.

"Just make sure your first born is called Ben, then I guess we're even." Ben giggles.

"Theres no way in hell I'm naming my child Ben."

"Oi!" he smiled, nudging your arm.

You didn't know it at the time, because all you could feel was guilt. But you chat with Ben meant more than you knew. Because deep down, he was happy to just have his friends back.

They celebrations had finished and you had made you way to the hotel Chelsea were partying in with Mason. You had a few drinks, danced with mason. And you heart even swelled as you watched Ben approach mason at the bar, ending in them hugging each other tightly.

But after the night was worn out, Mason had chased you along dimly lit hallways, your shoes in his hands since your feet were sore, as you both raced to the door.

He kissed your lips as he slid in his key card.

"You really are beautfull, you know that? Prettiest girl in the world!!" He screamed, causing you to giggle, he was slightly drunk. Well actually the both of you were battered.

"Mason! Shhh" You giggled. "Were in a hotel, idiot!" You whisper shouted at him.

"I don't care, I want everyone to know that I have the prettiest girlfriend ever." He said as he listed a finger to tap you nose, a small little 'boop' leaving his lips.

"Shame, because I'm not your girlfriend." You smirk at him.

"You will be." He laughs, he found his hands gripped down on your waist, then moving them down to your thighs and swiftly lifting you up, attaching his lips to yours.

His hands moved up as he squeezed your bum. Causing you to moan into his mouth, but the heated kiss was still never separated, him wanting to hold you as close as possible.

He pulled away as he got to the edge of the bed, throwing you down and climbing over you. You fawned over the rise and fall of his toned chest as you scrambled to rip his top off. Tracing your hands up his toned torso and the medal that was still hanging around his neck. When mason noticed this he pulled the medal off, placing it over you head and letting It drop to your chest. You smiled at his smiled at his small action, feeling the butterflies in your stomach.

He places his forehead on yours, smiling as he could feel your warm breath on his nose. 

“Have i ever told you how beautiful you are when you moan for me?”

You run your fingers along his naked biceps, before looking into his eyes with a smirk.

“I don’t think so?” You tried so hard to wipe the smile off your face as you watched him dip his fingers under the hem of your jeans.

“I guess I’ll have to show you what I mean then.”