#It's nothing I mind it's part of the fun for me

[stephenleasheppard]

So I guess it's time for me to be a buzzkill and explain this one again

Pop culture is broadly aware of the idea that vampire myths exist. We, in real life, where vampires are not real and where we recognize vampires are not real, understand them to be folklore. However, it is fun to play with the idea that maybe they're not folklore. "Maybe, vampires exist!" And if vampires were to exist, then it would be plausible that the vampire folklore that exists in the real world does so because people in the past have had encounters with "real" vampires, and have passed that information along as best they can, and that information was not necessarily believed to be true, but was transmitted as folklore. Ergo, it makes sense that in a world where vampires are real, vampire folklore would exist. It is even plausible that in a world where vampires are real, vampire folklore could have lead to the explosion of popular vampire fiction following the publication of such novels as Dracula, Carmilla, and Varney the Vampire, leading up to the vampire-saturated pop-fictional environment we now inhabit. In other words, there's nothing particularly silly about your fictional "real" vampire inhabiting a world where Tom Cruise played Lestat in the 1994 Interview with the Vampire adaptation.

Same applies to werewolves. Werewolves are an interesting case because folkloric werewolves don't really resemble filmic werewolves, but pop culture isn't broadly aware of that. So, even though silver was not a traditional werewolf weakness prior to the release of 1941's The Wolf Man starring Lon Chaney Jr., enough of the public doesn't know that, and assumes that folkloric werewolves must be vulnerable to silver, that it's plausible for your werewolf story where werewolves are vulnerable to silver to exist in a fictionalized version of "real" Earth where wolfman's got nards.

Ghost? Demons? Same thing. The folklore exists, and for the purposes of fiction, that folklore dismisses the inherent silliness of telling a story about a monster in a fictionalized version of the "real" world where there are all sorts of movies and Saturday morning cartoons and breakfast cereals about that moster.

Then there's zombies. The pop culture zombie was invented by George Romero for 1968's Night of the Living Dead. It has no folkloric precedent. There were zombie stories before this, about innocent victims enslaved in a walking death by evil wizards, where the horror was the prospect of being enslaved rather than the slaves themselves (or, okay, in some of the pre-NotLD shlock zombie movies the horror was just racist "scary foreign magic bad"), but zombies as they appeared in Night of the Living Dead have no history. They popped out of that one guy's mind for that one horror flick. (The script doesn't even call them zombies; it calls them ghouls.)

So zombies don't get the folkloric escape from silliness that benefits vampires, werewolves, ghosts, demons, etc.. If you have a zombie movie, and call your zombies zombies in your zombie movie, and try to claim that movie is set in a fictionalized version of the "real" world, the question arises -- what, did George Romero predict the future or some shit? Why do his horror monsters with no folkloric precedent he invented in the sixties perfectly match the apocalypse consuming this setting?

It turns the story into a joke.

And this is in fact exactly what 1985's Return of the Living Dead did! In Return of the Living Dead, a sort of official sequel to Night of the Living Dead (it's complicated; the rights were split in half between George Romero and his Night of the Living Dead co-writer John Russo and Russo got the "Living Dead" part of it; that's why there's five Return of the Living Dead movies and all the Romero movies after the first one are just called "-of the Dead" with no "Living" in the title), the first movie exists and the events of the first movie really happened... sort of. In the Return bifurcation of the Night of the Living Dead continuity, the movie Night of the Living Dead was government propaganda to cover up a "real" outbreak of zombies that "really" happened; the events of the movie are a "fictionalized" portrayal of a "real" disaster, the idea being that if anyone claimed zombies were real, they'd be dismissed as kooks who believe a shlocky horror movie. The other major difference between the two splits in the continuity is that Romero ghouls eat flesh, while Russo zombies crave brains specifically and are vocal about it, which is very funny.

Ever since, there have been basically two strains of zombie media.

"Serious" zombie media, which, in order to maintain its seriousness, it has to take place in a fictionalized version of the real world without zombie media, in order to avoid raising the question of how Romero predicted zombies in a shlock horror movie in the 60s so exactly. In The Walking Dead, nobody calls zombies zombies because nobody has ever heard the word "zombie" because in the fictionalized version of the "real" world portrayed in The Walking Dead, Romero never made Night of the Living Dead. In serious zombie media, zombies eat flesh and nobody calls them zombies.

Comedy zombie media, which does not care about this, in which zombies are usually called zombies and usually eat brains.

The exception to this split is media that has zombies different enough from George Romero's zombies that the question of how he predicted the zombie apocalypse doesn't arise. Like, if you're doing a zombie apocalypse movie where the "zombies" are just living people infected with rapid-onset rabies, and shooting them in the head is in fact a terrible idea because inhaling aerosolized brain tissue causes infection, then having this fictionalized Earth also have movies by George Romero about slow-moving animated corpses who can be put down with headshots doesn't strain any disbelief.

(And then there's the book World War Z, which is formatted as a series of interviews of survivors of the zombie apocalypse years after it's been put down, which actually lampshades it by having one of the narrators speculate on how George Romero could have predicted it, but avoids having to answer the question by establishing that he vanished during the zombie apocalypse, presumably one of its billions of casualties, so no one will ever know the answer.)

All in all it's kind of like how you can assume that Godzilla movies take place in fictionalized versions of the real world where there aren't any Godzilla movies, or how Transformers movies take place in fictionalized versions of the real world where there aren't Transformers cartoons. It's not that difficult to grasp. The difference, of course, is that there's only one Godzilla, and part of the conceit of a Godzilla movie is that the people in the Godzilla movie will name Godzilla "Godzilla," which is plausible because after all they have to name him something and he is a titanic god-like lizard; likewise, it's pretty plausible that someone would watch Optimus Prime transform from a truck to a robot and say "Hey, it's some kind of transformer." If the conceit of your zombie movie is that it takes place in a world without zombie media, it's not super plausible that people would look at shambling cannibalistic corpses and decide to call them zombies, so they don't. (Romero didn't even call them that!) And that's why zombie movies don't call their zombies zombies.

can u imagine if other pieces of media were as scared of calling their monsters what they are as zombie media is about calling zombies zombies

[kumasakka]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❝ 𝐅𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐑 ! ❞

　despite having an official girlfriend, known to the whole world, he doesn’t catch a break from his beloved fans. or quick reminder that he married his fan number one + social’s !

ft. itoshi sae , iglesias bunny , kaiser michael.

content. 1.8k wc, slightly suggestive, dirty thoughts, freaky / off-handed comments, crack, unserious, spoiler - free, up to 0.5k words each drabble, isagi makes insensitive jokes, inspired by freaky tiktok comments.

author’s note. I had so much fun writing this because this is lowkey how I act whenever I see them but not that freaky. be so for real, that’s how you would act when they were your boyfriend hehe. part two?

ITOSHI SAE.

　SPEAKING frankly, it's not like you are weird or anything. Not as weird as some of his fans — but you're definitely weird. Again, in a positive way though. You're weird in a positive way.

Can someone even consider this as a positive?

Your own boyfriend is cringed out by you sometimes, giving you weird stares as if you're his fangirl. Only that you are his fangirl and he knows it. He knows you'd watch every match of his until your dying breath.

"Hehe..." you sighed out dreamily, leaning against your palm.

Watchful eyes following Sae's every movement while he was trying to eat in peace. You two were at home, you cooked something delicious and now you kept him company while he was eating.

"Something wrong?" he wiped his mouth with a tissue.

His pretty teal eyes blinking ever so slowly, his long lashes adorning his face and highlighting the colour of his eyes. You could die in peace and you meant every word when you said that.

"Nothing..." you lied smoothly, letting out a giggle.

A giggle that reminds him of his fangirls and also fanboys.

God, you couldn't hell yourself though. He was so fucking hot, face so handsome and body built like the greek statues, his »I don't give a fuck«-personality fits him so well and his nonchalant attitude.

Suddenly you dropped a—

"You're so hot." you stared at his features, lips curling into a smirk.

"Oh. Thanks." he returns back to eating, not minding your comment.

And then — you stood up from your chair, only to move closer so you can sit closer to your boyfriend.

"I'm so lucky." you started off slowly, leaving him wonder for a second. "I see what Shidou sees."

"Shidou?" he deadpanned at the mention of Shidou Ryusei.

"Ugh, stop talking about him." you frowned, waving your hand dismissively.

"Didn't you start with him?" he glanced at you from the corner of his eyes.

"Oh wow..." you gasped, "do that again."

"Do what?" he glanced at you again from the corner of his eyes.

"THAT!" you couldn't contain your giggles anymore as you pushed his plate away from him, latching yourself onto him. "UGH YOU'RE SO FINE, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!"

"Ah..." he trailed off, patting your back as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"I wanna smash my lips against yours." you whispered, voice muffled because of his clothes. "And this definitely isn't the only thing I'm smashing today."

"[name]..." he deadpanned again, your fan behaviour insufferable yet cute in its own way.

"Yes, my darling husband? My sexy, handsome, beautiful and attractive Sae?" you giggled dreamily against his shirt, feeling his arms around your figure.

"Let me finish my food." he paused, "please?"

"Of course!" you distanced yourself again before taking the spoon into your hand. "Say ahh."

Spoiler alert: he didn't open his mouth.

"Mmh?" you hummed in confusion, then blew lightly against the hot meal, "the plane is coming! Say ahh!"

"Ahh..." he parted his lips reluctantly.

"Good boy!" you teased him.

"Never ever say that again."

　┌──────────────────┐

❤️ 112.8k. 💬 3.221 ⌲ 9.2k.

itoshisaesonlygf gender is NOT the same as sex. gender is what you identify as, while sex is what i'll be having with @official.itoshisae tonight. stay informed.

official.itoshisae respectfully back off.

　⤷ itoshisaesonlygf guys he’s only shy !!

　⤷ ryuassei.only I knew you wouldn’t cheat

　　　me pookie wookie dookie cutie patootie ❤️

　　⤷ itoshisaesonlygf keys and livestream it

ryuassei.only imagine faking a relationship 🤣

　⤷ itoshisaesonlygf blocked banned reported

　⤷ rinnie_poo gtfo weirdo

　⤷ userrando1112 what rin and [name] said !!

ryuassei.only IM FUCKING JEALOUS LOCK UR DOORS YOU WITCH IM BURNING DOWN YOUR HOUSE

　⤷ itoshisaesonlygf what a weirdo

　　⤷ itoshisaesonlygf get em banned

　　⤷ userrando3424 already did o7

rinnie_poo hoping that guy is stepping on lego stones, his socks get wet, spoon falling into the bowl and stubs his toe against something.

　⤷ itoshisaesonlygf I love you rin

　　⤷ rinnie_poo call me if he’s being an asshole.

　⤷ hide.its.slursagi what a lovely greeting lol

　　⤷ rinnie_poo shut the fuck up

　　⤷ ryuassei.only “SYBAU 💔🥀” ahh

　　⤷ rinnie_poo you’re getting crushed anyway

　　⤷ itoshisaesonlygf SHOW THEM !!!!

　　⤷ ryuassei.only ho is u a traitor? 🥀🥀

itoshisaesonlygf omfg he looks so good I wanna give him the sloppiest, wettest, best kiss ever

　⤷ itoshisae.official I’m right here.

userrando0010 we know it’s you shidou 💔

　⤷ ryuassei.only ugh fine I got caught

　　⤷ userrando0010 HE REPLIED WHAT.

　　⤷ userrando1392 FUCK ME PLZ

IGLESIAS BUNNY.

　YOUR gaze stayed glued to your phone as you sat on the couch, finger scrolling through the newest edits of your boyfriend. A grin crossing your lips as you watched the edit.

"Tsk..." you let out a gleeful giggle, seeing your boyfriend on the edit.

Wasn't he the finest man ever walking on earth?

"His girlfriend is so lucky..." you muttered, commenting under the post and then replied, "thank you..!"

Content with liking the edit, saving the post and favouriting it, you scrolled to the next edit — just to comment something else. "Not going to lie, he ain't safe from me..." you mumbled.

"Who isn't safe from you?"

"AHH!" you flinched in shock, immediately locking your phone as a reflex while your heart pounded quickly against your chest. "Ohmyfuckinggod Bunny!"

"That's me." he looked down at you, his hands placed against the edge of the couch while looming over you from behind.

"Hi." you smiled at him innocently, head lifting up to face him.

Yet your eyes wandered from his pretty face to his toned body. "Oh wow." you couldn't help but let out, taking in the sight behind you even if it meant that you'd snap your head any moment.

"Careful before you hurt yourself." and with that, he placed his hand under your head to push it lightly — so you'd face ahead again.

"Whatever you want." you replied and turned fully now to admire him even more.

Thinking back to that one comment, your mind immediately was filled with silly thoughts. "Oh... But I seriously think I can handle all that." you started giggling as you averted your eyes, biting your index finger.

"Whatever you're saying." your boyfriend smiled at you, making himself place on the edge of his couch. "What were you watching?"

"Edits that should get banned because the stuff is too much to handle, apparently." you answered immediately, not hesitating to face again. "Ugh..."

"Mmh?" he hummed, tilting his head slightly to the side.

One of the most attractive things he could do to be honest. With that lethal facecard? And that body?

"I'm so so so lucky." you whispered under your breath, cheeks heating up at the sight.

"Are you? Or am I?" he chuckled at your comment, batting his lashes.

"...I have nothing appropriate to say." your face was expressionless yet your inner voice screamed it all.

He erupted into a laughter his time, letting you watch how his adam apple moved along in an attractive way. You couldn't describe it properly in words — but he was all you needed in life.

"Ugh kiss me already." you throw yourself at him, clothed body bumping against his naked upper body.

"Whatever you want, love." his hand found itself behind to the back of your head again, pulling you into a quick kiss — it left you stunned honestly.

As soon as he distanced himself, you blinked slowly while your brain tried to processed what just happened.

"You..."

"Yeah?" he chuckled, your reaction too amusing for him.

"You deserve your ass ate for this."

"Please no."

　┌──────────────────┐

❤️ 192.5k. 💬 6.019 ⌲ 16.6k.

[name]thehunter “dinner’s ready, @bunnythebunny!” I say as I sat on the table ❤️❤️

userrando2737 GUYS SHE WATCHED MY EDIT, SHE WATCHED MY EDIT AND COMMENTED!!\*£|~${! PLZ NOTICE ME PLEASEEEEEEEEE

　⤷ [name]thehunter please continue the great work love 🫶

　　⤷ userrando2737 SHE REPLIED SHE REPLIED I’M DYING BYEEEE

　⤷ userrando4444 this is SENDING me 🙏

userrando0174 oh who is u?

　⤷ [name]thehunter im ya grandma

　　⤷ userrando1773 LMFAOO WHAT’S THIS

bunnythebunny oh thank you for dinner, it was great ☺️ is there more?

　⤷ [name]thehunter you know where I am.

　　⤷ userrando2938 OH WOW.

　⤷ userrando4992 can I eat u?

　　⤷ userrando9913 gtfo u gooner, he’s mine

userrando7369 ready… set… GOON ❕❕

　⤷ userrando2884 touch grass lil buddy 🙏

　　⤷ userrando7369 how abt I touch u? 😈

　　⤷ userrando2884 not here 😳

　⤷ userrando8926 the 69 says it all

official.itoshisae whatever is cursing my eyes.

　⤷ bunnythebunny oh nice to see you! ☺️☺️

　　⤷ official.itoshisae lukewarm eyesore

　⤷ [name]thehunter dw I love you kiss ���

　　⤷ bunnythebunny does this count as cheating?

　　⤷ official.itoshisae yes now break up.

KAISER MICHAEL.

　HE was asleep. In a deep slumber probably while his front was fully turned to you, letting your eyes wander all over his glorious face — almost shining in your eyes.

Maybe even blinding you with his beauty?

Your lips curled into a grin, taking in his facial features. Of course he was pretty. It's your boyfriend, after all. The bastard of every soccer match whenever you watch him play.

And here he is, sleeping soundly — not knowing the danger's of the world aka you. But what can you do? The dragon (you) has to protect the princess (michael) from the village (fans).

But he himself was in danger. If you ever would take a look at him, you'd fall for his charms — just like you did. "Hehe..." you giggled in delight, pulling the blanket closer to you.

Was inner you fangirling? No, no. You are just happen to be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of his sleeping beauty.

"You're so fine. Looking at you makes me feel like a victorian man, seeing a woman's ankle for the first time." you whispered, your hand inches away to caress his cheek.

And suddenly — he opened his eyes while raising a brow, catching your wrist at the right time

"What nonsense..." he muttered under his breath, voice sounding fully awake.

"You were awake the whole time!?" you gasped in shock before he pulled you closer. "Ack!—"

"Did you seriously just say something about victorian man seeing a woman's ankle?" he questioned, mischief not found in his voice — instead it was curiosity.

"Yeah, I did." you answered before realising, "ah. You don't understand."

"So what if?" he rolled his eyes, already annoyed by your teasing grin.

You swiftly freed yourself and found yourself on top of him. Well only your upper half was above him while your knees were still propped beside his hip.

"Basically it was scandalous for a woman to show off her ankles in the victorian era. High-class women were limited to show off most body parts and showing ankles were challenging the norms. I guess, victorian men liked that." you taught him.

"Ah..." he nodded and his one arm sliding around your lower back.

"Pfft— You're so cute." you giggled.

"Didn't you saw I looked fine? Like a... fine shyt?"

You bursted into laughter as he said that.

"You're superrrr cute!" you laughed.

"Oh?" he mused under his breath, raising his hand to tap against your quivering arms. "But you are the cute one."

"No." you lowered yourself, planting several kisses on his cheek. "You're so fine, babygirl."

"Babygirl? Are we calling each other cringe pet names now?" he raised a brow, finding joy in your affection. "Perle? Or should I say, Bubu Bärchen?"

"Eugh, never say that again!" you shook your head frantically, a shiver running down your spine.

"Mausebär."

"Schnuckiputz."

"Schnecke."

"Okay you won, stop those outrageous pet names."

　┌──────────────────┐

❤️ 110.2k. 💬 4.217 ⌲ 12.3k.

callmeempress I feel pregnant whenever I see @michahhel.kaiser

nessfetchthis what a wonderful sight to wake up to!

　⤷ callmeempress certainly ❤️

　⤷ userrando4674 fetch this bone 🦴 !!

　　⤷ callmeempress that’s it you’re getting blocked bye me AND michael

　　⤷ userrando4674 WHAT NO IM SORRY PLZ I WILL FETCH IT MYSELF

hide.its.slursagi get HIM pregnant

　⤷ callmeempress actually, you’re so right… might do that as well thanks 🌹❤️🔋

　　⤷ michahhel.kaiser [name] syfm

　　⤷ callmeempress make me 💞💞💞

　　⤷ userrando1883 can I join???

　　⤷ michahhel.kaiser no gtfo.

　　⤷ userrando1883 YES GAWDDDD HE REPLIED UGH WHATEVER YOU SAY EMPEROR

michahhel.kaiser next time post smth better than this. this absolutely looks heinous.

　⤷ hide.its.slursagi the earth was flat until ur dad got buried.

　　⤷ michahhel.kaiser @callmeempress why didn’t u block him yet?

　　⤷ callmeempress this was a good one tho

　⤷ nessfetchthis oh you never look heinous!!

　　⤷ callmeempress alexis, love, cutie, sweetheart sometimes I’d love to sugarcoat it but you would probably eat that too if it’s for michael… this picture does look heinous

　　⤷ userrando9999 WHAT’S WITH THOSE CREATIVE INSULTS???

　　⤷ userrando7819 CLOCKED HER OWN SON????

userrando2231 I also wanna wake up to this sight hellooooo?

　⤷ hide.its.slursagi blind motherfckers

　　⤷ michahhel.kaiser thy actions are the most strange. thou show few signs of intact sanity.

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi loving parents ❤️

　　⤷ michahhel.kaiser count your days.

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi count your scars.

　⤷ userrando6699 NOT ISAGI CLOCKING THEM ALL IN THE COMMENTS INCLUDING YOU KING?

userrando1083 seeing this made me accidentally hit my chin KAISER YOU LOOK SO HAWD PLZ ONE CHANCE ❕❕

　⤷ hide.its.isagi which chin?

　　⤷ callmeempress I’m considering to block you seriously…

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi I was just joking! 😅

　　⤷ userrando1049 he said as he grinned like evil larry.

　　⤷ userrando9966 he said as he knew that he hurt the world’s feeling 🥀🥀

© kumasakka — do not plagiarize , copy , modify , translate our work !

[wendichester]

⋆˚✿˖° say my name,

summary. sam has you captive. or a resemble of who sam used to be. he's not in his right mind. and neither are you.

pairing. demon!sam winchester x gn!reader genre. dark, weird, nsfw

wordcount. 1569

notes / warnings. captivity (reader is restrained), dubiously consensual vibes (very much a tension-based fantasy setup), morally grey dynamics, corrupted!sam, powerplay, heavy tension, implied dom/sub energy, degradation (light), reader is conflicted and into it, seriously filthy in a twisted kind of way — reader is fully into it, even if they hate themselves for it

You don’t know how long it’s been. Days, maybe. Or maybe it’s only been hours. Time feels weird in this place—too quiet, too dark. You're tied to the bed with soft leather straps that look expensive and feel… weirdly personal. Like they were picked out just for you.

Which, knowing him, they probably were.

The door creaks open and your breath catches before you even see him.

There’s a heaviness that hits the room first. That twisted sort of energy that makes your spine straighten and your lungs forget how to work. The air gets hotter. The space gets smaller.

And then he walks in.

Sam. Or… the thing wearing Sam.

You used to be able to tell the difference. You think.

But now? God, it’s hard. It’s so hard.

He still looks like him—tall, broad, hands in his jacket pockets, that slow walk like he’s got all the time in the world and nothing to fear. His hair falls into his eyes, and his lips curve in that little smirk that used to mean he was about to kiss you. Or pin you down.

Only now, it means something else entirely.

“Well,” he purrs, voice like velvet and smoke, “someone’s awake.”

You don’t say anything. Not right away. You try not to give him the satisfaction of seeing how fast your pulse kicks up.

He stalks closer, lazy. Controlled. A predator with nothing better to do than play with his food.

“You've been so quiet,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His touch is gentle. Too gentle. It hurts.

“I miss your voice, sweetheart.”

You glare, but your throat’s dry. You’re too warm. The way he looks at you—like he wants to ruin you, like he already has—is making it hard to hold your ground.

“Not gonna say anything?” he tilts his head. “Not even a ‘screw you, Sam’?”

“You’re not him,” you manage to whisper.

That earns you a grin. Full teeth. Sinister.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He leans in closer, breath ghosting your jaw. “That’s the fun part.”

He drags a finger along your collarbone, slow and deliberate, like he’s tracing his name there. “You think you can tell where I end and he begins?”

You hate how your stomach flutters.

He’s too close now. And you can smell him—Sam—earthy and warm and familiar, like he just stepped out of your memories and twisted them into something filthy.

“Maybe I’m just pulling what was already inside him to the surface,” the demon muses, fingers sliding down your arm. “Maybe he likes this. Maybe he’s been waiting for a reason to stop being the good guy.”

Your breath hitches.

Because deep down, you��ve wondered that too.

You’ve seen the fire in Sam’s eyes before, the hunger he tried to pretend wasn’t there. The way his grip would tighten on your hips, on your waist, like he was barely keeping something chained.

What if this is just… him, unfiltered?

No guilt. No leash. Just raw want.

“Poor thing,” the demon says, tilting your chin up. “You can’t even decide if you want to fight me or fuck me.”

You flinch. But only a little.

He smiles.

“You know what the best part is?” he says, almost giddy. “He can feel all of it. Every sound you make. Every little whimper. Every time your thighs press together.”

He runs a knuckle down your sternum. “He likes how much you want this.”

“Shut up,” you breathe, but your voice is barely a whisper.

He just laughs. “Why would I, when I’m finally getting the truth out of you?”

He climbs onto the bed, straddling you, moving with that maddening grace. Like he owns you. Like he’s entitled to this.

His face dips lower, lips ghosting your ear.

“Say my name.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “You’re not him.”

A pause. Then a soft, dangerous hum.

“Maybe not.” He traces your jaw with his mouth, barely touching. “But I sound like him. I taste like him. And if you let me…” He presses his lips just below your ear. “I’ll make you come harder than he ever did.”

Your body shudders. You hate him. You hate how much you want him.

“Say it,” he whispers. “Say my name, and I’ll let you scream.”

You bite your lip. You try not to let the moan escape—but it does. Just a tiny one. His grin sharpens.

“That’s what I thought.”

You look up at him, breathless. Torn. Thrumming with need and shame and something far too dark to name.

“Sam,” you whisper.

He stills.

Then he smiles. Slow. Sinister. Triumphant.

And you swear you see the glint of something real—not just the demon. Him.

You don’t know who you’re begging for anymore.

And honestly?

You’re not sure it matters.

Your wrists ache, but you’re barely aware of it. Not with him hovering over you like that—his weight caging you in, mouth dragging heat and ruin down your neck, breath warm against your skin. You can’t tell where the demon ends and Sam begins anymore. It’s all tangled up: the voice, the touch, the hunger.

And worst of all? It feels good. Too good.

You don’t know what you were expecting when you said his name—Sam—but it wasn’t this. It wasn’t the way he stilled, like you’d yanked on a leash. It wasn’t the way his hands trembled, like he was fighting something off… or fighting to stay in control.

But now?

Now he’s kissing you like he’s starving.

And not just the demon. Him.

“Sam,” you breathe again, dazed.

He groans into your mouth like it hurts to hear his name in your voice. Like it’s pulling him back up through the black sludge of whatever’s holding him under.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he rasps against your lips. His voice is rough, strained. His voice.

“Then tell me to stop,” you whisper.

He kisses you harder.

You can feel it—feel him clawing through the surface. His hands tremble where they grip your hips, and when he pulls back to look at you, something flickers in his eyes.

That softness. That guilt.

But underneath it, still there, still hungry—the demon.

You don’t know who’s kissing you anymore.

Sam’s mouth crashes into yours again, deeper this time. Like he’s trying to memorize you, consume you. He groans against your tongue like he’s just found air after drowning.

“God, you’re so—” he breaks off, panting. His forehead drops to yours, his grip on your body bruising.

“I shouldn’t,” he says. But his hips are grinding down against yours and he’s not stopping.

“You already are,” you whisper.

He snarls, half-demon, half-man. “You think I don’t know what this is doing to you? The way you squirm when I get close? The way your thighs press together when I speak?”

You gasp, but he doesn’t stop.

“You like this. You like me like this.”

“Sam—”

“I’m still me, sweetheart,” he says, dragging his mouth down to your throat. “Still the one who fucked you in the back of the Impala. Still the one who made you cry on my tongue.”

Your whole body shudders.

“I’m just... better now.”

You shake your head, chest heaving. “This isn’t right.”

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel good,” he growls, biting down gently on your pulse. “Tell me you don’t want it. Lie to me. I dare you.”

You open your mouth. You try. But nothing comes out.

Because you do want it. Want him.

Whatever this version of Sam is—drenched in darkness, wild and unfiltered—it’s him. Just more. Less rules. Less hesitation.

Still the same hands. Still the same mouth.

Still the same ache he’s always pulled from you like it was his.

“I hate you,” you whisper.

He laughs, dark and dangerous. “No, baby. You hate how much you want me.”

His fingers wrap around your jaw, tilting your face up so you’re forced to look at him.

“I could let go,” he murmurs, eyes boring into you. “Let him come fully back. Let just Sam fuck you. Let him be soft.”

Your lips part. Heat coils deep in your stomach.

“Or,” he adds, voice dipping into a snarl, “I could stay right here and break you open myself.”

You whimper.

“Yeah,” he purrs. “That’s what I thought.”

But then—suddenly—his grip falters. His expression changes. Something in his eyes shifts. Softens. Flares.

And then, just like that, he’s Sam again.

Fully.

Panting. Shaking. His hands are still on you. His mouth is still red from kissing you.

And his eyes are horrified.

“I—I didn’t mean to…” he breathes, looking down at your restrained form like it’s the first time he’s really seen you. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I never—fuck, I didn’t want this.”

You stare up at him, chest rising and falling. Your lips are red. Your wrists are raw. And you’ve never wanted him more.

“Then don’t stop,” you say, voice low. “Do it as you.”

Sam blinks.

You tug on the restraints. “You’re already in this deep. Might as well make me yours.”

His jaw clenches. “I’ve always been yours.”

And just like that, his mouth is on you again—desperate, messy, real. No demon. Just Sam.

But god help you, it’s worse. Because it’s better.

Because it’s him—and you’re still tied up, and you’re still wrecked, and now you’re crying out his name like a prayer.

And he’s answering every single one.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

[miyasmagnolias]

𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𓂇⋆⭒˚｡⋆

miya atsumu x f!reader

you invite atsumu and the boys to your spring dance showcase to raise money for a good cause — and maybe get even after the viral video incident. meanwhile, atsumu is determined to ask you out and, if he's lucky, kiss you properly this time around.

part eleven of the in close quarters series, a friends-to-lovers college AU featuring you, atsumu, and the ten months you spend living together senior year.

a/n: a tiny bit of lore, but i used to dance throughout college (and still do to this day), so this one was super fun to write. enjoy! ( ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

"So...what kind of dance does she do again?"

"Uh..." Atsumu blinked down at the bouquet of flowers like they might contain the answer to Suna's question. "Hip-hop, I think?"

Osamu locked his car and shot his twin brother a judgmental glare. "Haven't ya lived with her for, like, eight months now? Shouldn't ya know what type of dance she does?"

"How am I supposed to know?! It's not like she performs for me in the livin' room or anythin'!"

Osamu's face twisted in disgust. "Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't ya."

Atsumu's face turned beet red. "The fuck is that supposed to mean — ?!"

"To be fair," Aran interjected, ever the pacifist. "Modern dance can blend together a lot of styles — jazz, ballet, hip-hop. It's really not as cut and dry as people think it is."

"See?" Atsumu said, grateful to his team captain for coming to his defense. "It's not as cut and dry as ya think it is!"

Aran gave him a flat stare in return. "Still, I find it baffling that you didn't think to ask."

The four former Inarizaki boys began the long trek from their parallel parking spot to The Bloom Room — a seventies-inspired cocktail lounge nestled in-between campus and downtown. Your university dance troupe had partnered with the small business to host your annual spring showcase, the event doubling as a community-wide fundraiser for a handful of local nonprofits.

Invite the volleyball boys, too! you'd texted Atsumu a few weeks back, along with the link to buy tickets. We need as many people there as possible. The more drinks you buy, the more goes to charity!

Atsumu didn't exactly know who you meant by the 'volleyball boys' — Osamu and Suna didn't really count anymore, and Sakusa wouldn't be caught dead in a place like The Bloom Room. Aran, on the other hand, was a welcome surprise, the captain of the men's volleyball team happily agreeing to go when Atsumu brought it up to him after practice the other day.

"I'll do anything for a good cause," he'd said, though the fluorescent lights of the locker room did nothing to hide his amused expression. "Did you end up wooing her with your extensive knowledge of Pride and Prejudice?"

"I was not tryin' to 'woo' her — I was tryin' to help her with an essay!" Atsumu exclaimed, slamming his locker door shut. "There's a big difference."

"You stopped reading every other sentence just so you could ask me what it meant," Aran said dryly, recalling the two-hour flight back from their first away game. Off the court, he'd never seen Atsumu more concentrated. “If anything, you needed help.”

Atsumu shot his team captain an offended glare. "At least I finished the damn thing. It got good — ya know, once I got used to all the ol' timey English."

Aran folded his arms across his chest and exhaled slowly. "Look, it's clear you've got feelings for this girl. So in addition to reading her favorite books and kissing her on the cheek after games, why don't you just ask her out?"

The setter shifted uncomfortably on his feet. It wasn't as if the thought hadn't crossed his mind before — just that every time it did, it was accompanied by the worst possible outcomes he could think of. Him, finally working up the courage to ask you out. You, laughing in his face. Him, having to sleep in the room next to yours every day while he died of embarrassment. Just thinking about it made Atsumu want to yak.

It was much easier to flirt with you than to actually admit that he liked you, he'd realized. In fact, Atsumu kind of hoped you'd be the first to acknowledge it. He'd dropped more than enough hints for you to catch on.

But as your spring semester continued without so much as a peep, Atsumu realized he didn't have much time left. He needed to fess up to you before you graduated and went on to become a publishing mogul or a Pulitzer Prize winner — or whatever the hell English honors students went on to do after college.

The plan was simple: get you alone after the show, hand you the bouquet he'd spent nearly an hour picking out. Pop the question while somehow keeping his ego intact. Easy peasy.

At least, he thought it was.

"Oh, are you here for Y/N?" a girl with large hoop earrings and a handkerchief for a top said when Atsumu approached the check-in table. "You're her roommate, right? She's told us so much about you!"

"She didn't tell us you'd be bringing a whole team with you," another drawled, twirling a long braid around her perfectly manicured fingers as she sized up his friends. "Sheesh."

Despite himself, a stupid grin broke out on Atsumu's face. "She talks about me?"

The two girls exchanged humored looks from across the table.

"Let's just say she's gonna really love the flowers," the one with the braids replied with a smack of her gum.

"Wish my boyfriend bought me flowers," the one with the earrings chuckled, stamping the back of Atsumu's hand. "Enjoy the show!"

The Bloom Room was bathed in sultry purple lights as Atsumu and his group navigated the crowd of friends and family that had shown up for that evening's showcase. The high-top tables and stools had been cleared out to make room for a dance floor, with rows of folding chairs now lining the perimeter of the space.

"It's awfully intimate, ain't it?" Osamu observed as he sat next to Atsumu in the row closest to the dance floor.

"I'ma grab a drink," Suna quipped, already making a beeline for the bar. Meanwhile, their phones pinged in unison. It was from you.

Are you here yet?? you'd asked in the group chat you had created with all four of them. Did you get good seats?

Atsumu's fingers were already flying across the keyboard.

Yep, front row! Break at leg! Then, before he could stop himself, he added a pink heart emoji and hit send.

"Whoa," Aran said, blinking back at the text message not a moment later. "A heart? Things must be getting pretty serious."

"Shaddup," Atsumu tsked, folding his arms across his chest. At Osamu and Aran's bemused stares, he asked, "What? It ain't the red one! The red one is the serious one!"

"Dunno, man," Aran teased as Osamu stifled his laugh. "A heart's a heart."

Atsumu's confident expression faltered as he said, "W-Well, do ya think it's too much? Should I edit it?

"I think it's a little late for that," Osamu drawled just as their phones pinged again. They all looked down at their screens.

Great! you'd replied, hearting Atsumu's message. Can someone take a video of me pwease?

On it, Suna texted back. He returned a few minutes later with a tequila soda in-hand.

"Dude," he murmured as he sat back down. "What was up with that frilly pink heart? Keep that shit to yourselves."

Atsumu rolled his eyes.

"Good evening, everyone! Take your seats, take your seats," the girl with the hoop earrings said into the microphone as the remainder of the crowd settled in with their drinks. "My name's Mina, and I'd like to personally welcome you to the Silk Club's third annual spring showcase!"

A wave of applause ricocheted through the venue.

"We've got an incredible lineup of talent here tonight representing several on-campus dance orgs, so sit back, relax, and enjoy the show," she said. "As a reminder, all ticket and drink proceeds go towards our city's women's shelter and the center for LGBTQIA+ youth, so I encourage you to get as drunk as humanly possible! It's for a great cause!"

Laughter and applause rippled across the crowd. Beside Atsumu, Suna tipped his cup back until all that was left was ice.

"Now without further ado, I have the pleasure of introducing to you our opening act," Mina continued. "The Silk Club is a group of young women whose mission is to feel empowered and body confident in their dance. This is their third year hosting their annual spring showcase in support of the local nonprofit community, and they are incredibly excited to perform for you all tonight. I myself have been a part of this team for two years now, and I can confidently say there's no other group I'd rather shake ass with to raise money. So without further ado, give it up for Silk!"

The crowd whooped and hollered as several silhouetted figures emerged from the back room and assumed formation on the dance floor. Meanwhile, Atsumu's heart kicked up a notch as he scanned the shadows to find you. Beside him, Osamu frowned.

"Shake ass?" Osamu repeated under his breath. "Don't tell me — "

He was promptly cut off as the opening chords to Mariah Carey's "Obsessed" blared through the speakers, the spotlight flickering on to reveal you — in the tiniest black tube top and skirt — staring back at the audience with a sultry pout on your face.

Aran's eyes widened. Suna nearly choked on his ice. Osamu ran a hand over his face and glanced toward his brother, who — for all intents and purposes — looked like he was about to have a stroke.

Because you were hot. Nay — you were hot as fuck.

And everyone in that room knew it, too.

"I thought she did hip-hop!" Aran yelled over the music as you danced across the floor in your stiletto heels, your confidence radiating with every body roll, every hair flip.

"Dunno what kind of hip-hop you're watching, but this certainly isn't it," Suna shot back dryly, having already hit the record button on his phone.

Except Atsumu wasn't even listening. All that occupied his brain was you. Batting your eyelashes at the audience. Rocking the headscarf you'd styled into your long hair. Touching yourself in places that made Atsumu feel faint. You looked like the seventh member of Katseye, only prettier. How hadn't he known this about you?

"Why you so obsessed with me? Boy, I wanna know..."

The crowd went completely ballistic as all the girls on your team planted their hands on the sticky floor and shook ass in perfect unison. Only then did Atsumu notice the phone in Suna's hands.

"Would ya not film my roommate's ass like that?" he stammered, doing a double-take.

Suna merely shrugged and said, "What? She asked me to."

Then, before Atsumu could argue further, you were sauntering up to him. Soft smile. Pouty lips. Eyes that could disarm him in an instant. You ran a delicate finger along the curve of his jaw, tilted his chin up to look at you. And winked.

For fuck's sake.

"I think you can see the exact moment his soul leaves his body," Suna deadpanned, scrubbing through the video after you and your teammates had struck the final pose to the sounds of ear-splitting applause.

Osamu elbowed his brother in the ribs and said, "Ya alright in there, Tsumu?"

Atsumu just stared at the dance floor as you and your teammates took your bows. Brain empty. Face steadily draining of color. His grip tightened around the bouquet in his lap as he tried to careen himself back to earth.

Asking you out was going to be way harder than he thought.

Atsumu's heart rate more-or-less returned to normal after that, the rest of the show featuring a variety of modern dance crews, cultural clubs, and K-Pop cover groups. Nothing as outrageous as the opener, but perhaps that was for the best. Atsumu didn't need his nervous system compromised for a second time that night — especially with the question he was about to ask you after the show.

The Silk Club closed the showcase with a much tamer, less anxiety-inducing routine to "Rocket" by Doechii, the choreography maintaining your team's signature charm while showcasing your versatility of style. Atsumu cheered for you as you danced your heart out in the center of the room, your energy infectious as the music coursed through your every muscle. From your cheeky smile down to the soles of your sneakers, it was clear you loved being up there. The entire time, Atsumu couldn't stop grinning.

He was the first to give you a standing ovation by the end.

"Seems like Atsumu isn't the only one who can work a crowd," Aran drawled in amusement, standing up so he could clap for you properly. Beside him, Suna snapped about a million pictures.

Osamu merely hummed in agreement and said, "Pretty sure this is the first time he's been more enamored by someone other than himself."

As usual, Atsumu didn't hear a damn thing — just clapped his brother on the shoulder and said, "I'll be right back."

Several families and friend groups had since flooded the dance floor to reunite with their performers, Atsumu shouldering his way through with the bouquet clutched to his chest. Your friend Haru had found you first and was currently gushing to you about your performance, Atsumu maintaining his distance for several nerve-wracking seconds before your eyes eventually latched onto his. Your face broke out into the sunniest smile he'd ever seen, and by God. You were beautiful.

You said goodbye to Haru and made your way towards him. His arms found purchase around your waist as he lifted you several inches off the ground and squeezed you as hard as you could.

"Hi," he murmured into your hair. It smelled of your sweat and shampoo.

"Hi," you whispered back, your voice warm and breathless. "What did you think of the show?"

"I..." Atsumu trailed off, the mental image of you throwing it back flashing across his mind. "I didn't know ya could move like that, that's for sure."

A chuckle rumbled out of you as he set you down. You adjusted the oversized jersey you had changed into for the finale and said, "Yeah. I'm a little embarrassed that you and your friends got a full view of my ass, but it's whatever."

"Well, for what it's worth, it looked good." Then, after realizing what the fuck he'd just said, "You. Y-You looked good, I meant. Shit."

You were full-on laughing at this point. "That's high praise, coming from the king of low sets himself."

The tips of his ears turned red as he finally remembered the bouquet in his hands.

"These are for ya," he said, watching your eyes soften as he gave them to you. You lifted your nose to the assortment of wildflowers like you did with all of your books. "Ya looked incredible up there, Y/N. Seriously."

"...thank you, Tsumu." A shy smile worked its way onto your features before you admitted, "No one's ever gotten me flowers before."

"Ya bein' serious right now?" he asked, equal parts surprised and pleased with himself. You nodded. "Well, that's only cause ya haven't invited the right people before."

You rolled your eyes. "The right people being you?"

"Damn straight," he said, already reaching for you a second time. "Come 'ere."

He wrapped his arms around you in the middle of the crowded dance floor, his cheek resting against the crowd of your head. Relaxing into his embrace, you listened to his heartbeat through this shirt. Steady. Grounding. A little fast. But then again, so was yours.

You craned your neck to look him in the eye. He gazed down at you like you were the only other person in that entire room.

Pulse picking up speed, Atsumu slowly leaned in until he was a mere breath away from grazing your lips against his.

But before he could kiss you, someone was already calling your name.

"Y/N!" Mina hollered, the both of you jumping backwards like two guilt-ridden teenagers. She scanned the dense crowd from the front of the room like a mother who'd just lost her child at the zoo. "Y/N, where the hell are ya?! We're taking a group picture!"

Clearing his throat, Atsumu adjusted the collar of his jacket and tried to channel whatever nonchalance was left in his body. Beside him, you haphazardly tried to fix your hair. The two of you locked eyes once more and, gradually, started to laugh.

"Go," Atsumu said, jerking his chin towards your teammates. "Don't keep 'em waiting."

Mashing your lips together, you looked like you wanted to argue. But your teammates were already calling your name.

"Come out to eat with us afterwards?" you offered, a hopeful expression on your face. "I think a handful of us are going to that new Korean spot downtown. You can bring the boys, too."

Chuckling, Atsumu nodded. "Sure. We'll be there."

"...okay," you eventually managed. It did little to mask the dazed, if not mildly disappointed expression on your face. "I'll see you soon."

And with that, you disappeared into the crowd.

"Ya boys in the mood for Korean food?" Atsumu asked his friends when he found them lingering outside the restrooms.

"Why, what happened?" Osamu asked, shooting his brother a grin. "Yer plan fall through?"

"Yep," Atsumu quipped, throwing an arm around Osamu's shoulders. "I'm 'bout to drown my sorrows in an army stew."

"At least you gave her the bouquet," Aran offered, drying his damp hands on his jeans. "You only spent half the afternoon trying to pick it out."

"Seriously," Suna mumbled, eyes never leaving his phone. "You owe us dinner for the amount of moral support we're showing you right now."

The three of them debated how many dishes to order the entire car ride there. Meanwhile, Atsumu stared out the window, wondering when the hell he'd be able to get you alone.

"I never thought I'd see the day someone actually outdrank Mina," you giggled, fumbling with your keys to the apartment. "How much soju did Suna have?"

"I dunno, but he was scarily composed after all those domino shots," Atsumu murmured as you both entered through the front door and turned on all the lights. "Passed out like a light in the backseat, though."

Even though he'd barely managed to talk to you during dinner, it was surprisingly fun to see you relax for once. You were excited to introduce Atsumu and his friends to the people you had danced with for the past several months, grateful to see everyone get along so well in between spoonfuls of bubbling hot pot.

"It's nice to finally meet the best roommate she's ever had," Mina had teased, already four shots in. She flung a sweaty arm around your shoulders and said, "Her words, not mine!"

At that, Atsumu raised an eyebrow and grinned. "The best, huh?"

Maybe it was the alcohol, but he swore your face turned two shades redder at that.

Now, Atsumu watched from across the kitchenette as you meticulously trimmed the flowers he'd gotten for you, your fingers nimble as you arranged each one into a vase. The gentle hum of the air conditioner filled the silence between you, along with the rhythmic snip of your scissors.

Without looking up, you said, "You're staring."

"Am I?" Atsumu drawled, a smile toying on his lips. "Was just admirin’ yer makeup. Is that what they call a full beat?"

You nearly choked on your laughter. "Where did you learn that from? TikTok?"

He lifted a noncommittal shoulder. "I have my sources."

Smiling, you said, "Well, would you be so kind as to grab my makeup remover from the bathroom? I've been dying to get this off."

Five minutes later, Atsumu poured himself a glass of water as you tried removing your eye makeup with a soaked cotton round, a dark streak of eyeliner now smudged halfway across your face.

"Did I get it?" you asked, blinking at Atsumu from where you sat atop the kitchen counter. Laughing, he put down his glass and began wiping it himself.

"I like when you look like this," he confessed, gently dragging the cotton round across your skin.

Frowning, you said, "Like a rabid raccoon?"

"No, ya twerp. Ya know what I mean."

You didn't say anything for a long while as he continued removing your makeup. You felt your face warm beneath his touch as he did so.

"Thank you for coming to the showcase tonight."

"Of course. I wouldn't have missed it for the world." Then, after a brief pause, "Ya know, as the best roommate you've ever had."

You groaned. "I'm never gonna live that down, am I?"

"Not a chance," Atsumu drawled. He cupped your cheeks with both of his hands and inspected your face from different angles beneath the warm kitchen lights. "There. Squeaky clean."

Neither of you moved as you realized just how close you'd gotten to each other. You, your knees grazing against his torso. Him, the warmth of his palms sending a pulse of electricity down your spine.

"Atsumu..." you breathed, your voice merely a croak.

"...yeah?" he managed, brown eyes searching yours for something — anything — to indicate that you wanted him closer.

"...is there a reason you're always so nice to me?"

Lips parting, he said, "I think ya know why."

You closed the gap and kissed him not a moment later.

Now, Atsumu had imagined what it would be like to kiss you — had even dreamt about it, embarrassingly enough. But nothing, nothing compared to the way your lips worked against his now, each movement slow. Deliberate. Almost like you were asking a question.

You like me? you seemed to ask, fingers curling into his t-shirt, pulling him closer. Atsumu merely cupped the back of your head and deepened the kiss, the feeling of his tongue against yours extinguishing all doubt from your mind.

Yes, he thought, melting into you completely. Yes. I always have.

He braced his hands on either side of the kitchen counter, boxing you in. Your hands slid into his hair. A low moan escaped the back of his throat when you parted your legs for him and wrapped them around his waist. Fuck. He couldn't believe this was happening right now.

But before he let himself fall any further, he had one thing left to ask.

"Wait — wait," he stammered, pulling away from you suddenly. Lips swollen. Hair disheveled. Heart hammering in his chest.

At your confused expression, he asked, "Will ya go to dinner with me?"

Your chest rose and fell as a bemused expression crossed your features. "Are you asking me out right now?"

Atsumu gulped back and said, "I just...I wanna be sure I do this right."

Heart twinging at his words, your hands gently traveled down from his hair to cup both of his cheeks.

"You know, I thought you'd never ask," you drawled, eyes gleaming in adoration as you beheld him. Your roommate. Your friend. Your best friend, if you were being totally honest. "I'd love to."

The stupid grin that broke out on his face had you pulling him in for another kiss.

a/n: thank you for the love on these past couple of chapters, y'all! i'm slowly but surely responding to messages and comments — but in the meantime, please know that i appreciate all of you for reading this sappy lil' fic of mine. it means the world to me.

(next chapter will cover atsumu and y/n's first date mwahaha. stay tuned.)

@miyasmagnolias, 2025

[happyk44]

[Text ID: 1. Most of us think about love as something that happens to us. We fall. We get crushed.

But what I like about this study is how it assumes that [highlight] love is an action. [end highlight]

2. love really just is *sharing blankets* *driving together in silence* *this song made me think of you* *I made them for you* *having the most fun just talking* *cold hands warm hearts* *I got home safe* *you said you needed one so I found one for you*

3. I like to cook; I like to sew. They’re peaceful things, and they’re an expression of caring.

4. He loves history. He wanted to write a biography of John Quincy Adams. I, shamefully, knew almost nothing about John Quincy Adams, so I went online and bought every biography of him I could find. One day, he called me, claiming that we wouldn’t work out long term. He said he loved me but that we had different interests. [highlight] “What does love mean to you?” [end highlight] I said. “That’s an impossible question,” he replied. I, however, find love to be quite simple. Love is the stack of biographies on my nightstand with a bookmark near the end.

5. My dad was eating pistachios so I reached my hand out and he just started peeling them and giving them to me. Then suddenly went “I really hope you find someone who loves you a lot” and I went “enough to peel my pistachios for me?” And he laughed and said “yeah exactly” before carrying on giving me more

6. you save me half a bag of skins, the hard parts, my fav, dusted orange with hot

7. you make us tacos with shells I like and you don’t

8. No, baby, that was great, just let me hold you know. Let me run out, it’ll just take a second. I’ll be back before you know it, and then you won’t have to wait until morning. Sure, I’ll look at it right now. It’s no trouble. Sure, I can wait. Just let me know when you’re ready, we can go. Sure, I’ll come over and bring my tools. I don’t mind. Sure, I have time [highlight] I always have time for you. Sure, whatever you need. [end highlight] Whatever you need.

9. I hear my voice repeating what I used to say to my husband: Love is action, I used to say to him

/end ID]

love as action

mandy len catron / @sweetnd / joan didion / julia nicole camp / @honey-fire / danez smith / s. bear bergman / marie howe

[mumbeau]

mumbos s10 plotline is soooo incredibly compelling to me ive said this again and again and reiterated on the suicide aspect of it hard in posts but that's only a piece of his whole deal. hes gotten caught in this weird space where he believes killing himself, watching himself die, is the only way to live forever. he loves the ever changing world he's a part of so much that he wants everything to stay the same. he refuses to die on anyone else's terms but his own, so much so that... he ends up aiding in his own death on somebody else's terms anyways. mineds trap is working. he's become so invested in his own demise and preservation of life that his judgement on what he's doing has become so deeply clouded and his perception of what hes doing has warped. the way he's gone from calling the mumbot "me" to "it" to "him". He has this idealized version of his own shady plan that's been set in his mind ever since the idea came to him and that's been, in my eyes, consistently reinforced by mined that "i'll do this and then ill be this and then ill live forever with no problem!" and is unable to see the downsides past his fear because of the perceived time limit that's been imposed on him with his rapid aging. his s10 plot is driven by fear and nostalgia and success and failure that i feel is obviously a translation of some of olis own feelings as he reaches 30 and as he's kind of turned over a new leaf in his career in the past few years. it ties a lot of the smaller less groundbreaking aspects of cmumbos character that are so natural to him they often go unnoticed together into a single story. his impulsivity his suicidal tendencies his anxiety his sentimentality his love of technology and new and fun things his fear of the unknown his draw to the unknown. his will to live and his urge to die. his love of preservation and his love of destruction. his intricate multi step season plan with no consideration as to how this will be the last. everything about this plotline is a pile of contradictions that highlights itself with each passing video and its just so good It's so peak i will NEVER stop being annoying about mumbos s10 nothing can compare

[yup-thats-me]

—Jelly • K. Hongjoong

⋆˙⟡pairing: bf!Hongjoong x fem!reader ⋆˙⟡summary: ❝It wasn't your plan to run into your old crush before a date with your lover. but you couldn't lie, seeing the evil squirrel getting jelly did feel nice❞ ⋆˙⟡warnings: none ⋆˙⟡a/n: had fun writing this. lmk how you guys enjoyed it :3

₊˚⊹𐙚°｡⋆♡

"Joongie," You ask, mischief sparkling in your eyes. "Are you jealous?"

And Hongjoong turns, eyes boring into yours. "What if I am?" he asks quitely. "God forbid a man gets angry that some asshole tries flirting with his girl."

You giggle, hitting him lightly. "Babe," you manage to say between laughs. "He was not flirting with me."

"Uh, pretty sure he was," he pointed. You smile, poking his cheek.

Hongjoong being as busy as he was, it took him a really long time to plan this date with you.

Coming home to see you fast asleep on the couch because you stayed up late waiting for him, keeping away from him while he worked, only giving him coffee for breaks and stole small pecks, it pained Hongjoong.

He too wanted to hold you close and eat dinner together, have long talks about life and nothing at all. So when he finally found a day off in his schedule before the tour starts again, he spent days meticulously planning each and everything for today.

What places you'll visit, the restaurants booked, outfits picked beforehand. All of that for to chat with your old crush for twenty minutes.

"Joongie," you start, pouting. "Why are you so mad, though? I'm yours and pretty much the entire world knows that."

Hongjoong turns, eyes boring into yours.

"Its not about that, Y/n!" He pouted.

Running into a crush from school was not in your plan. Having bumped into him in a coffee shop, all those memories came flooding back. The days you had spent researching for his favorite color at school, sneaking peeks while he played basketball. The man was a catch, you'd give him that.

But Hongjoong had not failed to see how the now-irrelevant-guy's jaw clenched when you introduced the singer as your boyfriend. Hongjoong snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Giving the man a tight smile, he offered his hand.

"Kim Hongjoong, nice to meet you."

And you could sense something shift in the air. What you didn't see was the two men had each other's hands in a death-grip, jaw clenched. As they parted, their hands were red.

As you talked, the guy tried several times to get your number on the pretense of ''catching up." And maybe you would've given to him if not for his request of meeting you alone. Without your lover who's right beside you.

Being you, you nudged Hongjoong lightly as you gave him some made-up number on the spot. Those days have passed. He means nothing now. And if you did in fact want to catch up, you could do it with your other friends.

Hongjoong couldn't lie, he did feel a surge of pride when he saw how smoothly you handled the situation.

But now alone with you beside him, the producer now realized that he still could lose you. In his mind, you can still leave him after four loving years sent together. No matter how many times he tells himself that you won't, the brain is such a thing that does not know to shut up.

He spoke after a long period of silence. "...Would you have gone with him if I wasn't around?" His voice slow and meek.

You shake your head. "You think?" You say, smiling gently. "He's history, my love," hands clasping with his.

"He was and is just a girlhood crush. You, darling," your hands caressing his cheek. "How could I leave someone so wonderful? You're my life, don't you know that?"

The sincerity in your voice made it impossible to not meet your gaze. Breathing softly, Hongjoong brushes hair out of your face, pressing his lips to yours.

And before you could react, the man is leant back on his seat, smiling smugly.

"At least give me a warning!"

do not copy, steal or translate my work on any other sites. All rights belongs to yup-thats-me© on tumblr

⋆. 𐙚 ˚reqs are openᝰ.ᐟ

[lush-escape]

This is Me Trying

The End

pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

a/n: it's been fun kids 🥲 I hope you've all enjoyed reading as much as I've enjoyed writing. This almost had a completely different ending but I decided to be nice this time round.

prev: part 7

“It appears you are not needed here,” The snarky smile on Damian’s face makes Jason scowl at him in return.

“You're a little late on the save there, Jay.” Tim snickers through their comms. “They got it all under control.”

“Shut it.” Jason snarls, the voice modulator in his helmet making his voice deep and robotic.

You stand there in front of Red Hood, chest heaving, the wooden chair leg still in your grip. There's a moment of silence where Red Hood and Robin stare at you.

“I can't believe,” you pant as you take a step closer to him, “you got me into this mess. I don't even know you. What did I ever do to you, huh?” He's tall, big and built like a brick house, terrifying. But you're angry. You're so, so angry that you don't even care anymore. You push at his shoulder with hot tears in your eyes.

“Answer me!” You demand in a shaky voice.

And you can't see it but underneath Jason's helmet his scowl falls and his stomach drops. He was a danger to you. You were kidnapped, hurt, because of him. It's all his fault. And it's obvious to his brother in the tense silence. All he wants to do is drop to his knees and beg your forgiveness, to hold you in his hands again just as gently as he did the first time and promise his life that nothing will ever happen to you again.

“Don't.” Robin is focused on Hood, face serious now. You notice the way Hood clears his throat softly and nods once.

Jason is struggling. His mind is a mess. His heart hammers in his chest. Here he is, standing in the middle of a crack den, spiraling because the person he's fallen in love with is hurt. He feels like he can't breathe.

“C'mon, let's get the fuck out of here-” Big Bad whispers in the corner to his two goons. Hood and Robin snap their attention to the three.

BANG

BANG

BANG

You gasp at the sudden gun shots, hands flying up to cover your head as you suck. Your eyes are wide as you turn to look behind you. The three men slump to the floor with a nauseating thump. You slowly turn back to Hood.

“Damn it…” Robin mutters, shaking his head.

“Let's go.” Hood’s voice leaves no room for argument. He's grabbing your wrist and pulling you out of the house behind him and Robin.

He's gentle - surprisingly so. You could easily take your hand back if you wanted to but you don't. The entire night is weighing on you. The adrenaline rush is almost winding down until you're outside in the cold air and some sense of clarity hits you. You know Robin’s voice. You know you do.

“Damian?” You finally speak up like you're trying out the syllables for the first time, uncertain and nervous. Because you really don't want it to be true.

Robin stops.

‘No…’

He hangs his head before turning to look at you, “This is not the place for this conversation.” He states.

Yeah, that's Damian.

“So….” You swallow and your eyes fix on the back of Hood’s helmet. “You're really…”

Jason.

The grip on your wrist, already so tender and gentle, falters.

“No, no, no. This can't be happening.” You're starting to spiral. Jason is Red Hood. You were kidnapped because of Jason. You were going to be murdered because of him. You hit him with a chair leg.

You stop dead in your tracks. The angry tears from earlier are finally starting to fall. You pull your hand away from him and wrap your arms around yourself in a defensive stance.

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

There's silence and Rob- Damian looks between the two of you. His expression is unreadable. But your attention is solely on Jason.

“... No.” Jason answers.

You can't pinpoint what fact hurts the most tonight but the weight of everything is crushing. Your shoulders slump. He hasn't even turned around to look at you.

“So, what? You were just going to live a double life for.. forever?” You feel betrayed, lied to. “God, is this what you meant when you said you work as an ‘independent contractor’? I feel so stupid.”

Finally he turns around and even with the mask you can feel how sorry he is, how terrified he is.

“Don't. Don't feel stupid.” He commands gently.

“May we wrap this up, please? It is not long before we are caught on the lawn of a … trap house.” Damian crosses his arms and goodness if he wasn't a minor he'd be getting a taste of the chair leg.

Jason turns to Damian and exhales slowly, “We're going to a safe house. You go back.” He tells his brother who nods.

Damian turns to leave but steals a glance over his shoulder at you, “For what it's worth- you were… tolerable. While it lasted.”

“Big compliment coming from you, D.” Jason snarks. And with that he was gone. He shakes his head and sighs, “Let's go. The safehouse isn't far.”

“No.” You tell him defiantly. “No. I'm not going anywhere with you, are you crazy?”

“This isn't something to negotiate. We're not safe here and I'm not taking you back to your apartment right now. Now let's go.” There's a sharp edge to his voice that tells you now isn't the time to argue.

The safehouse is in a rundown apartment a few miles away from where you had been kidnapped. The inside is nice, clean, compared to the outside. Simple with minimal furniture, no decor on the walls.

The entire time Jason is tense, you can see it in the way his shoulders straighten and the way he walks.

“Bathroom's to the left. I'll grab the med kit.” He tells you. He can't even look at you as he takes the red helmet off. His voice is softer now.

You give a shaky nod in response that he can't see and walk to the small bathroom. When you sit down on the closed toilet seat you can finally see just how bad the gash on your leg is. It's not too deep, probably doesn't need stitches, but it's dirty and jagged.

Jason comes in a second later and suddenly the bathroom is much more crowded, not even due to his size. He has a small first aid kit in his hands that he sets on the counter before kneeling in front of you.

“You killed those guys…” you whisper while you watch Jason grab a small cloth, dousing it in antiseptic wash. He doesn't even flinch when you bring up the fact.

“S’not the first time.” He mumbles gruffly. His hand shakes when he begins to wipe at the blood and grime on your thigh. You hiss in pain, it's cold. Jason falters. His free hand moves to hold your calf still.

“‘m sorry-” He whispers and his voice almost cracks.

“Not the first time…” You repeat, trying to ignore the pain.

It's getting harder for Jason to focus, keep himself steady. His eyes are starting to blur with unshed tears that he'll refuse to let fall.

It's silent in the bathroom as Jason works. Your cut is clean in no time, it's obvious he has practice doing this. Of course he does.. he's a vigilante. The thought is still hard to wrap your head around.

“I'm so sorry…” He places the bandage on your leg and lets his thumb trail over it softly.

It takes you a second to find your voice. You swallow down the lump in your throat, “You should be..” you whisper. “I could have died Jason. And for what, drugs?” Your voice is shaking and Jason thinks he's going to be sick.

“I- I know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” He's looking up at you with big, sad eyes and it's taking everything in you to not give in and tell him it's okay.

“You don't deserve this. You don't deserve any of this.”

“I don't.”

“You're better off-” Jason swallows painfully, “-better off without me.”

“I am.”

Jason looks like he's been punched in the stomach, all of the air is knocked from his lungs. You watch a single tear fall down his cheek and suddenly you're crying too.

“Please, please don't cry.” He's murmuring softly. Large hands reach up to cup your cheeks, thumbs trying in vain to wipe at your tears. “Please-” his voice cracks.

“I- I woke up this morning and you were gone and someone was in my apartment!” You own voice breaks and wavers as you cry. “They were waiting for me! They drugged me and kidnapped me! All because of you.” You're not trying to make him feel worse but you can't help the anger and hurt in your voice.

“I know, I know. I'm sorry.” Even on his knees he's still eye level with you as he apologizes.

“I promise I'll never let anything happen to you again. No one will ever hurt you, no one will ever touch you, again. I promise, I promise, I promise.” He repeats softly. He's desperate.

You want to believe him, of course you do. But this is Gotham and he's a vigilante. You can only imagine how this ends. So you shake your head.

“You can't guarantee that, Jason.” You sniffle.

Jason feels his heart breaking. Because even though you two have only spent a few weeks getting to know each other, you've made him feel softer than anyone else. You made him feel seen, normal. You were unlike anything else in his eyes.

"I can, I can guarantee that. I can keep you safe."

There's a small part of you that wants to believe him, another smaller part of you that does believe him.

“Please, don't…” He begs in a whisper. He already knows what's coming. It always happens this way and it's always his fault.

Your hands are on his wrists, he's trembling. You lean your forehead against his own, “Take me home.”

“Fuck. I'm so sorry…” He tells you one last time with closed eyes.

“I want to go home.”

Jason sits on his motorcycle outside of your apartment and watches you climb off. His eyes never leave you now, as if he's now constantly on guard. You make it halfway down the walkway before you stop and look at him over your shoulder.

You give him a look that silently says “um, hello excuse me?”.

“... What?” He finally asks, confused about your look. He's still feeling the heavy pain in his chest. You roll your eyes at his response.

“You're not going to walk me up to my apartment?” You ask in return. Something in his eyes brighten, just a hint. He looks at you and his lips part. He's fumbling for what to say. He was certain you never wanted to be near him again, he was prepared to never talk to you again in his life.

“You-... Are you sure?” He asks, trying to keep a steady voice, trying to keep the hopeful glow in his tone tampered down just in case he was reading too much into this.

“It’s the bare minimum, isn't it?”

“Yeah,” he lets himself smile softly, “it's the bare minimum…”

taglist: @theendofthematerialgworl @vellichor01 @thy-crimson-king

[mono-red-goblin-party]

what you can't have | part 4

Pairing: Cameraman! Joel x Reality Star! Reader

Summary: Hooking up with your cameraman is the last thing you should be doing as the lead of Mr. Right. But when Joel Miller is assigned to be your personal shadow, it's impossible to deny your attraction. He's the guy you want, and the only one on set that you can't have.

Chapter content warnings: 18+ ONLY. Dirty talk, pining, oral sex (f! recieveing), Joel calls you a slut, reader gets handsy at one point

Word Count: ~6.4K

A/N: New banner, who this? Enjoy this filthy chapter <3

AO3 | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Joel Miller slams on the horn of his truck with all the frustration of a man who knows he’s done for.

Sure enough, the Jag still cuts him off, stopping short before the crosswalk as the light turns yellow to red.

Goddamn L.A. idiots.

Like he’s trying to prove Joel right, the driver of the Jag sticks his middle finger out the window. Joel leans on the horn again, telling himself this tool in the muscle car is all that’s got him bothered.

But then he hears your name on the radio. The hosts are filling airtime arguing about Mr. Right, and somebody - probably Tess - has hinted to the press that you might be the next Dream Girl.

You’re everywhere, your lust-drunk eyes glowing neon in Joel’s mind.

He wants to keep last night perfect, laid out exactly as it happened. But he’s revisited it a hundred times by now, wearing creases over the soft sounds you make when you’re close, and he knows already that the memory is ruined.

He can never hold on to good things for long.

You’re toying with him, he knows, chasing after him for the fun of it. You confirmed as much last night. But maybe Joel is a sucker for punishment, because it’s killing him, the thought that you might want him in your warm, wet mouth.

Joel’s cock twitches. He tightens his grip on the wheel. Idiot.

The light turns green. The Jag roars through the intersection. Joel shuts off the radio and drives on in silence.

He’s barely pulled up to Tommy’s place when the front door opens and Sarah runs to the car. She’s got her backpack in one hand and two napkin-wrapped pop-tarts in the other.

Joel eyes the pastries as she clambers into the passenger seat.

“You abandoning the food pyramid?”

Sarah shrugs. “Aunt Maria had to leave for work early, so Tommy made breakfast.”

“Tried real hard, did he?”

“He toasted them, if that’s what you mean.” Sarah holds out a pop-tart. “Brown sugar cinnamon?”

He grunts in surrender and accepts the pastry. “Seat belt.”

Sarah straps in, and he pulls out of the driveway. It’s barely a ten-minute drive to her school, but it’s one of Joel’s only chances to see her during filming.

“It’s going ok then,” he asks, “staying with Tommy?”

Sarah replies through a mouthful of crumbs. “S’good. I like going in the pool.”

“You sure? Cause if you wanna stay home I can find a sitter until the season wraps.”

Sarah raises an eyebrow. “Did Tess give you a raise I don’t know about?”

“That ain’t nothing for you to worry about, kid.”

“So it is something for me to worry about?”

Joel rolls his eyes. “You’re getting too smart for your own good.”

Sarah wrinkles her forehead. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

“For my good, then.”

Sarah props her converse up on the dash. Golden yellow. They match her North Hollywood Prep tee.

Joel nudges her feet back down. “You got that dance team audition today, right? Feel good about it?”

“I told you, I did it last year so it’s like I’m on the squad already. But Tommy still wants to celebrate after.”

Sarah glances at Joel, and her voice wavers as she continues. “He said you might be getting off early today.”

Joel’s heart sinks. Tommy’s got no business getting her hopes up like that.

“’S only a possibility, kiddo.”

Sarah crumples up the paper towel in her lap. “Okay.”

Joel reaches across the console to squeeze her hand. “I’m gonna try my best to make it, but it might be out of my control.”

“I get it, Dad. It’s okay.” She looks out the window.

There’s a knot in Joel’s chest. She deserves so much better than him.

“Wanna listen to music or something?”

Sarah turns to him. “Will you let me pick for once? Since you feel bad for being negligent?”

“Damn, kid, my filming schedule is hard enough without you using five-dollar words to twist the knife.” Joel stops at an intersection and sighs. “But yeah, play whatever you want.”

Sarah beams, then rummages through the CDs Joel keeps in the console. “Got it!”

She chooses Summerbash. Of course she does.

The album cover teases Joel from the corner of his eye. A photo of you naked but for a few soap suds. His mind is all too happy to remind him what’s underneath.

Sarah misreads his scowl.

“Yeah, it sucks compared to her first album, but some of the beats are good! Julie wants to choreograph to them for the halftime show.”

She pops the disc in the ancient car stereo, and your voice fills the cab of the truck. You’ve been autotuned beyond recognition, but Joel’s pulse speeds up all the same.

He’s so fucked.

Sarah holds up the CD case, looking sideways at Joel. “I read a spoiler that she’s the Dream Girl you’re filming. Is it true?”

Joel taps his thumb on the steering wheel, checking his blind spot as he changes lanes.

“You know I ain’t allowed to tell you things like that.”

“She is, isn’t she? You must be flipping shit.”

“Language.”

��“Okay, flipping out.”

“’m not flipping anything. It doesn’t matter to me who the Dream Girl is. She goes on dates, and I point the camera. Same as every other season.”

Sarah narrows her eyes. “You’re being weird, Dad.”

“No one’s being weird.”

“Really weird. Is she stuck-up or something?”

Joel wishes that you were. Or cruel. Anything would be better than you, real and vulnerable and terrible at hiding it, finding meaning in his work, making him laugh. You, open wide and begging for him.

He swallows, keeps his voice steady.

“No,” he says. “She’s fine. And she ain’t officially the Dream Girl until Friday, so forget I said anything.”

“I knew it!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Joel lets Sarah celebrate. He finishes the drive while your voice talk-sings “Gimme It!” from the stereo.

Yeah, you’re gonna be the death of him.

The drop-off area at North Hollywood is crowded with parents trying to beat the first bell. Joel waits for a glimpse of open curb and pulls up. He puts the truck in park.

“Good luck today, kiddo. Even if you don’t need it.”

“Thanks.” Sarah picks up her bag and hops out of the car, hesitating before she shuts the door. “Maybe see you tonight?”

Joel’s throat is tight. “I really wanna be there.”

It’s seven in the morning when Eliza comes to your room bearing Courtney, a “prep itinerary” and some fantastic news. Every round of Mr. Right ends the same way, with a formal cocktail party and elimination ceremony, but this week Tess is shaking things up.

Instead of an evening cocktail party, you’re having a daytime pool party at the Mr. Right Villa. This means Eliza-sanctioned flip-flops for you, and for the crew, the possibility of an early wrap.

“What are you guys going to do tonight?” you ask an hour later, when you’ve finished the first half of the itinerary and are sitting through your blow-out. “If we finish early, I mean.”

Courtney sighs. “Aaron,” she says dreamily. “From Hinge. I’m praying he can take me to dinner before travel rounds start.”

Eliza shakes her head. “You two are going to jinx us. It’s a lot harder to film the pool party than the regular eliminations. On Ashley B.’s season we didn’t wrap it until three in the morning. Let’s just focus on getting you to your Suitors on time. I told Jacob to have the guys ready by 9:30.”

She delivers. It’s 9:24 by her watch when you pull up to the Mr. Right Villa, dressed in a lavender string bikini and a pair of translucent gauze pants.

Courtney spends a handful of precious seconds reminding you how long it will take her to re-do your hair and makeup if they get wet. Under no circumstances are you allowed to actually get in the pool at this pool party.

“Water will melt me,” you say. “Understood.”

Courtney grins. “Not that you’re unclean.”

Your legs splayed open in the mirror. Joel’s low voice, telling you how to fuck yourself.

Hiding your blush, you scramble out of the SUV.

At the Villa’s entrance, the host of Mr. Right is filming an intro to the pool party. An army of PAs navigates off camera, carrying inner tubes and umbrellas over their heads like worker ants. The line of them indents as they skirt around Tess where she’s issuing instructions from the center of the driveway.

She waves you and Eliza over at once. “Perfect timing. Ryan just got here.”

You’re spared having to ask who Ryan is when a lanky, bald cameraman emerges from the Villa and raises a hand to greet Tess.

You turn to her, confused. “Is Joel not working today?”

She raises an eyebrow at you. “He got here 20 minutes ago. He’s setting up by the pool. Ryan is here to fill in for your interview.”

“Oh, okay.” You deliberately avoid making eye contact with either producer. “Where do you guys want me?”

Eliza escorts you to the front of the Villa, and Ryan trains his camera on you while you answer questions about the Suitors you most want to see shirtless. When you’re done, Tess grabs Eliza and Ryan to look through some B-roll footage, then directs you to the pool.

“We need some footage of you in your swimsuit, Dream Girl. For the promos. Taking off your pants, that sort of thing. Joel will walk you through it.”

You bet he will. You follow the trail of PAs to the back of the Villa, trying to ignore the flutter in your ribcage.

The pool is even more crowded than the driveway, and you dodge a frantic Jacob hunting for a missing mic pack before you cross to the half of the patio that’s blocked off for filming.  

Joel is crouched by the edge of the water, frowning into his camera and fiddling with an attachment over the lens. He grunts in dissatisfaction and glances at his watch, oblivious to your approach.

You stop beside him.

“Hey, Miller.”

His profile breaks into a half-smile. “Morning, Cinderella.”

He’s still looking at his camera, pointing it at the water to test the attachment.

“Is that a waterproof lens?”

Joel shakes his head. “Polarizer. Blocks out glare from the pool so I can see you better.”

He turns the camera toward you. Then freezes. He looks up from the screen, taking in your chest, your bare stomach, the scant outline of lavender keeping you decent beneath your pants.

You smirk. “Is it working?”

“Nice outfit.” His voice is low.

You grin. “Tess told me you’re gonna help me take it off.”

“That so? Because I’m hardly in a position to be pissing off Tess right now.”

“Good thing we practiced, huh?”

Joel is still taking you in. “Reckon I wouldn’t mind practicing some more.”

Your stomach flips.

He stands up and checks his watch again. “We better start shooting. Keep your pants on for now.”

You’re trying to.

Joel starts with a few shots of you walking up to the pool, then switches to a full-body pan. You monitor your expression, conscious of the crew nearby, and try to distract yourself from the way Joel is looking at his camera.

The man is a study in tension, eyes locked on the screen, his grip tight on the handle.

You remember his hands clenching the back of your chair last night. Why didn’t he touch you?

Because it would get him fired? Probably no more than if Tess found out what already happened.

Maybe he gets off on teasing you. Well, two can play at that game.

You wait for Joel to pan the camera over your chest, then lift your arms above your head and stretch. You arch your back, and your bikini top follows, riding up to expose your breasts until your nipples are just barely covered.

Joel grimaces, and the camera shakes ever-so-slightly.

“You’re a menace,” he growls, checking the time before he resets the shot.

You smile innocently at him and adjust your top. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like you’re being tortured when you’re turned on?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Maybe I look like I’m being tortured when I’m being tortured.”

He steps back. “I’m gonna sweep the camera down again, and this time, when I signal, I need you to take off your cover-up.”

“Anything you want, Miller.”

“I want you to stop trying to kill me, Cinderella.”

He gets the camera in position.

You smirk. “Almost anything you want.”

He pans over you once more, nodding as the frame approaches your waist. You hook your thumbs in the waistband of your pants.

“Slowly,” he murmurs.

You flush at once, your core throbbing in recognition. Judging by the way Joel is tensing his jaw, his mind has gone to the same place.

You lower your pants to the ground. Joel follows the motion with his camera, then pans up to capture the bare skin of your thighs. He takes in a slow inhale, keeping his eyes trained on the screen.

“You’re devastating,” he says quietly.

Your body is tuned to his every word, aching to come apart for him again. You sigh softly.

Joel glances up, holding your gaze for a long moment. 

Deliberately, he steps back. “Good. Got it on the first take.”

“One more to be safe?”

He shakes his head. “No time.”

He pulls out his walkie and signals to production that you’re finished. 

Joel has never wrapped a shot like this after a single take. You shoot him a skeptical look as you pull your pants back on.

“Either I’m suddenly much better at posing, or you have someplace to be after our early wrap, Miller.”

He scowls. “What early wrap? Pool party’s a disaster every time. On Ashley Benson’s season – ”

“– you didn’t finish until three AM. Eliza told me. Why is everyone around here so pessimistic?”

“Cause we know what a bitch it is to make lighting good when everyone is greased-up with sunscreen.”

“I mean, hating sunscreen seems like a symptom of pessimism, not the source of it. And you still haven’t told me what you’re doing later.”

Joel readjusts the polarizer on his lens, expressionless. “You’re looking at it, Cinderella.” His words are harsh, like he’s convincing himself as much as you. “We’re gonna be here all night.”

Not if you can help it. He deserves the night off. Your whole team does. How can you get them out of here as fast as possible?

You contemplate the day’s itinerary. It takes an eternity to film the weekly Love Letter Ceremony, but if you get started by 2:00, the crew will almost certainly be done before sunset.

You can’t start the Ceremony until you’ve had a reasonably personal conversation with every Suitor who is up for elimination. Thirteen of them in total, and you have a little under four hours.

Ambitious, but you recorded Summerbash with a straight face. You can do this.

The crew finishes setting up. Suitors spill out onto the patio.

You charge right up to them, weaving through body oil and board shorts to grab a scruffy twenty-something whose name you can’t remember.

Eliza mouths it over his Hawaiian-shirt-clad shoulder as you escort him to a lounge chair. Zack. Right. You don’t let yourself forget again.

Zack is talkative, so you don’t need to sit with him for very long before he’s opened up about beach days back home in North Carolina. You glance at Eliza. Is this enough personal information? She nods.

You look around for another Suitor you can talk to. Jasper meets your eyes and strides over. He places a hand on Zack’s shoulder, cutting off a monologue about jet-skis.

“Mind if I steal her?”

Zack takes his leave. One conversation down, and you think you’re ahead of schedule. You wish Eliza would let you wear a watch.

Jasper takes your elbow and leads you to a cabana, where he’s set up a champagne toast. Quick and romantic. Perfect.

Only when you get to the cabana, there’s no champagne to be found. It takes a PA twenty minutes to hunt down a replacement, and then the guys all feel so bad about the mix-up that they’re hesitant to interrupt Jasper’s time.

When a Suitor finally does grab you, it’s Sasha, a wide-necked hockey player who production has already decided to send home. He wants to sit with you and go through photos of his best games.

The instant Sasha pulls out the first picture, Joel interrupts with a growl of frustration.

Sasha’s photos are printed on glossy paper. They’re not only unreadable on camera, but they also reflect light from the pool all over your face. Eliza peeks over Joel’s shoulder at the screen, then winces.

“You guys look like you’re telling scary stories at a campfire. We have to move.”

It takes two more locations before you find a spot that works. At least an hour must have passed by now. You can read it in the lock of Joel’s shoulders, in the frantic way Eliza checks the time.

Then Sasha launches into a highly detailed story about something called backchecking. You’re contemplating a mad dash for freedom when Mike interrupts.

“Hey, Dream Girl,” he says in his soft voice. “Can I steal you for a second?”

You look at him with raw gratitude.

Sasha doesn’t look away from your face, lifting a hand to shoo Mike away.

“Later, dude. We’re talking.”

No.

Mike furrows his brow. “Okay, I’ll come back in a few.”

The feeling that overtakes you as he leaves to refill his margarita can only be described as despair. It’s another ten minutes of Sasha describing a fight he got into with the ref before Mike returns.

The two of you cozy up on a daybed at the edge of the patio, and Mike pulls out a set of “get-to-know-you” questions on index cards.

Sweet or salty. Morning or night. Hug or kiss.

You shoot a knowing glance at Eliza at the last one. She raises her eyebrows as if to say she knows she’s good.

“Kiss,” you say to Mike.

He smiles, then leans in to give you one. You kiss him back, bracing your palm against his bare chest. When you pull back, Joel is glaring into his camera so hard that even Mike notices.

“What’s up?” he asks, looking curiously at Joel. “Is there a shadow on my face?”

“It’s probably me,” you say, taking Mike’s hand. “I bet my makeup is all kinds of smudged from the heat.”

You use the pretense of a touch-up to end your time early, then regroup with your team in the Green Room. It turns out you really do need to fix your makeup. Courtney powders over the smudges in your foundation. When she’s done, Eliza offers you a water bottle and a sandwich.

You turn to her. “What time is it?”

She sighs. “Twelve-thirty.”

More than half your time gone, and you’ve only talked to four Suitors.

“Can we do this differently?” you ask. “Maybe you can walkie to Jacob when a conversation wraps, so he can send in the men faster?”

“I suppose. He’ll still have to nudge the Suitors, and they might be slow, but it can’t hurt.”

It helps. A little. When you return to the party and grab Solomon, it’s only a few minutes before Nick S. comes to steal you away.

The conversations start to blur together. A story about Nick J.’s dog. Chris pulling you close for a kiss on the cheek. Then Paulie doing the same. You force yourself to keep up your Dream Girl poise as you chain through the interactions with blinding efficiency.

You still fall behind.

Joel halts production in the afternoon so he can reset the reflectors. When he’s done, Zack steals you for a second conversation, fumbling through a plea to stay for one more week. Then Henry pulls you aside, even though he’s already won a Love Letter this week, and somehow you waste almost an hour on conversations you didn’t need to have.

You get through the last few interactions knowing that you haven’t done enough. But it’s something. The crew will be out in time for a late dinner.

Lucas is the last Suitor to steal you. He’s the chief suspect for the theft of Jasper’s champagne, and he’s been drowning himself in margaritas all day. He slurs that you look like a dream come true in your bikini as he takes a seat beside you on the daybed.

He wiggles his eyebrows playfully. “Wanna help me put on sunscreen?”

You accept, knowing it will make good TV. You’re sitting cross-legged behind him, spreading the lotion on his back, when he breaks the fourth wall and points at Joel.

“Dude,” he says. “You gotta come closer and get a slow-mo of these Dream Girl hands on my back. You can add in saxophone music behind it.”

Joel levels him with a stony glare. “Shot’s fine how it is.”

Lucas shrugs it off.

“Suit yourself, man,” he says, then turns over his shoulder to look at you. “Honey. There’s a big question I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

He sets his face in a solemn mask. “How many people,” he says, “do you think have peed in the Mr. Right Villa pool?”

You burst into exhausted laughter. Lucas springs to his feet and takes advantage of your distraction to scoop you up in his arms.

He sprints to the pool and takes a running leap into the water.

You’re ready to lay into him when you come up for air, but he covers your protest with a kiss. His hands reach beneath your legs, pulling them to wrap around his waist, and he holds you close in the water. The patio falls silent around you.

Your face is burning when you manage to pull away. You try to break out of his embrace, but he’s a solid wall of gym-bro muscle.

Lucas pushes a wet lock of hair out of your face and gives you an “aw-shucks” grin. You can’t bring yourself to smile back.

“That’s enough.” Joel’s gruff voice breaks the silence. “Get out of the water. Now.”

Lucas releases his grip. You wade to the edge of the pool.

Joel sets down his camera and offers you a single, broad hand. You take it, boosting yourself from the water. He tugs you to your feet.

“You alright?”

He’s quiet, asking only you.

His brown eyes scan your face. In the sunlight, you notice that they’re flecked with gold. 

You swallow. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Tess strides over, turning you away from Joel so she can inspect your face.

“Shit, Dream Girl. Your makeup is fucked.”

She snags a nearby PA.

“Tell the crew to take fifteen and call whoever they need so they can cancel their plans tonight. No way we’re wrapping early now.”

Beside you, Joel stiffens. The center of his brow creases. His next breath is slow, like it’s pressing down disappointment.

Is this what crestfallen looks like on Joel Miller? A vice squeezes in your chest.

A smart Dream Girl would follow Tess’s lead here.

You grab her arm anyway. “No. Wait. Don’t cancel the early wrap.”

She looks at you, impatient. “We’re about to film a three-hour elimination ceremony, kid. It’s already four.”

You shake your head. “It won’t take three hours, I swear. Night one took forever because Eliza had to remind me who all the Suitors were, but after today, I know their names.”

Tess is already losing interest. You let go of her arm and point at a sandy-haired investment banker.

“That’s Neil.”

You gesture to each suitor in turn.

“Adam. Sasha. Solomon. Jasper, Mike, Levi. Nick S. and Nick J.. Zack, Paulie, and Chris. Lucas is in the pool. Henry and Brooks already have love letters, so I don’t need to say their names tonight, but I know them.”

You stare determinedly at Tess. She sighs. “Okay, two hours for the elimination ceremony. But it’s at least that long again before we get your face ready.”

“Then don’t get my face ready,” you say. An idea is beginning to form. You look around the patio for a Suitor who can play to the cameras.

Brooks steps out of the Villa, yesterday’s love letter pinned to his open shirt. He pauses as he takes in the stalled, silent crew.

You turn to Joel. He’s studying you, expression unreadable.

“Miller,” you direct. “Camera up.”

You take off toward Brooks, breaking into a jog and springing into his arms. He catches you, looking startled for a fraction of a second before his features smooth into curated delight.

You lock your ankles around his waist and lean down to kiss him.

He kisses you back, grinning softly when you pull away. “Hi, beautiful.”

He’s flawless.

“Hi,” you say. You drop your eyes, putting on your best bashful expression. “My makeup is ruined.”

He lifts a hand to cup your face and gives a characteristically Prince Charming response.

“You’re still just as beautiful to me.”

You stay still for a moment, making sure Joel can get the shot.

“Thank you,” you tell him.

You leap down, then run back to Tess.

“You want me to be vulnerable, right? Then let me do the elimination ceremony without makeup. You can edit a whole storyline around it.”

Tess considers. You push on before she can say no.

“I can film an interview with Eliza about how scary it is, and you can get guys like Brooks to say gentlemanly things in their interviews.”

Tess sighs. “It’s actually a good idea.”

You beam.

She crosses her arms. “But I’m still not letting you film like that. You look like the clown from It. I’ll send Courtney to the Green Room to meet you. She can put you in a quick no-makeup look. Concealer and mascara.”

She activates her walkie and signals to the crew. “We’re starting the elimination ceremony at four-thirty, everyone. Get moving. Six-o-clock wrap if no one else fucks up.”

She turns back to you. “Go clean your face, Dream Girl. Upstairs bathroom.”

You scamper off before she can reconsider, a heady excitement racing inside you. You can’t remember the last time you called the shots like that.

In the bathroom, you realize Tess’s comparison to the It clown was generous. Pennywise at least was serving clean lines.

There are makeup remover towelettes on the counter. Most likely for the Suitors. You steal one and get to work taking off what remains of your face.

In the mirror, the door opens.

Joel slips into the bathroom. His gaze slides over your barely covered body, lingering on the curve of your ass.

He locks the door. “Why did you do that?”

It takes you a moment to realize he’s talking about your argument with Tess.

You turn to face him. “I wanted to.”

He walks closer, looking at you like he’s trying to make sense of something.

“You wanted to do the Letter Ceremony without makeup on?”

“I’ve been on camera without much makeup before.” Your words come out unsteady as he draws near. “I know what I’m getting into.”

Joel closes the space between you, resting an arm on the countertop.

“’S not gonna look like you think, Cinderella.”

“Are you calling me ugly, Miller?”

“You know I don’t think that.”

“Are you mad at me for something?”

He braces his other arm on the counter, scaffolding you in the impossible span of his shoulders. He looks at you steadily.

“No,” he says. “But it ain’t your job to worry about when we quit filming.”

“Then call me an overachiever.”

Joel laughs softly.

He’s left open the top button of his henley. The collar stretches wide with every rise of his chest.

You look back up at him, piecing together his words.

“Joel. Is this your way of saying thank you?”

A smirk spreads across his face, and he shakes his head slowly.

“Had something else in mind for that.”

He picks you up, calloused hands warm on the backs of your thighs, and places you on top of the counter.

He nudges your legs apart and takes a step so that he’s standing between them. Your heart stutters.

Joel’s hands go to your hip, his fingers finding one of the knots that holds your bikini in place. He undoes it with a steady focus, then turns his attention to the remaining tie.

When he’s finished, he slides his thumb beneath the useless string, tracing your bare hipbone.

A single, loose scrap of cloth is all that covers you now. Joel strokes his index finger once over the outline of your slit, releasing a shiver of sparks inside you. You gasp.

His smirk widens. “That’s what I thought, pretty girl.”

He trails his eyes up to your chest. His hands lift to sides of your bikini top, and he pushes it up. You’re bare before him.

Joel slides his warm hands over your breasts. It’s dizzying, the feel of him touching you at last.

“This what you wanted last night?”

His voice is rough, a slow drag that strikes a match inside you.

He rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and you whimper.

“This why you were teasing me this morning? Showing off like a little slut?”

He lowers his mouth and licks your nipple with his hot tongue. You moan.

“Fuck, Joel.”

He raises a hand to cover your mouth. “Quiet, pretty girl.”

He returns his mouth to your breast, closing his teeth around your nipple and biting softly.

You shudder. He feels it, tightens his hold on you.

He nudges his thumb over your mouth, sliding it between your lips. You run your tongue over it, sucking on him.

He pushes deeper, and you take his finger down to the knuckle, letting out a quiet moan in spite of yourself.

Joel’s eyes flicker shut. “Fuck, Cinderella.”

He opens his eyes and lifts his head to watch you, like he can’t believe you’re real. “You love this, don’t you?”

You whimper softly in agreement.

He pulls his hand free and rises to his full height. You look up at him, not bothering to hide your desperation.

“Please.”

“You’re filthy, pretty girl.” He taps his wet thumb against your lower lip. “Begging for it right here, for me to fill this slutty mouth with my cock.”

His words burn a fuse inside you, setting loose a hazy, overpowering need.

You grab his belt and tug him close. Your hands slide down to find him where he’s pressed against the front of his jeans.

He’s hard for you already. You gasp at the feel of it, running your thumb over his length.

Joel shudders. He closes his eyes as though he’s lost a battle with himself, and then he tilts his hips, thrusting up into your touch.

You stroke him again, and he lets out a ragged exhale.

He’s so beautiful like this. It stops your breath. You whisper out his name and reach for his zipper.

He opens his eyes, and his face is suddenly tight. His hands catch ahold of your wrists.

You whimper, wracked by a longing that’s impossible to control now that you’ve felt him.

“Please, Joel.”

He leads your hands back to the counter, holding them in place.

You glare at him. “And you say I’m a tease.”

“We ain’t got much time, Cinderella.” He releases one of your hands so he can hook a single broad finger beneath the remains of your swim bottom, nudging the fabric so that it falls away. “And I mean to spend it playing with this wet little pussy of yours.”

He grazes the knuckle of his index finger slowly along your folds.

You light up for him, a surge of desire coming forth like it’s been waiting all your life for his touch.

You struggle to clear your head. “You had your chance to touch me yesterday, Miller. It’s my turn now.”

“That so?” Joel slides his finger over your clit. Your body responds automatically, hips bucking against him. He raises a smug eyebrow at you. “Don’t think this cunt of yours wants to take turns.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

He nods sympathetically and strokes your clit again.

“Fuck, Joel.”

“That’s it, pretty girl. Let yourself feel good.”

You’re falling apart for him, and he knows it. He traces a slow, patient circle around your clit, studying your face as the pleasure ignites inside you.

You mumble out your final protest, your body shuddering.

“I’ll – fuck – I’ll flip you for it.”

Joel looks at you in shocked delight, a rare, real smile spreading across his face.

“You offering to flip a coin so you can suck my cock?”

He’s still circling your clit, his fingers asking a steady question that your body is all too ready to answer. “Do you even have a coin, Cinderella?”

“Not – not exactly.” You gasp, fighting to stay afloat as your desire swells. “Or you could be nice and – God – and give me what I want.”

His eyes are dancing. He sinks to his knees before the counter, then spreads you open with both hands. He gives you a long look, like he’s memorizing the sight of you.

“Ain’t my job to be nice to you,” he says. Then he leans forward and licks a slow, greedy stripe along your core.

You whimper.

“Gonna need you to keep quiet for me now, pretty girl.” He strokes you with his index finger. “Can you be good for me?”

You nod softly, and he runs his tongue over you again. You bite your lip and rock your hips against him.

He hums appreciatively and brings his tongue to your clit, fast and insistent, stoking the blaze inside you. Your legs start to tremble, and he guides them to sling over his shoulders.

Your hand tangles in his soft curls. He shudders at the touch, looking up to catch you with his dark gaze.

The sight of him is obscene, panting with lust, beard coated in the slick of your arousal. His voice is raw with need when he speaks.

“You’re heaven, pretty girl.”

He pulls your hips as close as he can and lowers his mouth with a desperate urgency. He slides his tongue inside you, and the crude intimacy of it, Joel’s mouth inside your cunt is enough to take you to the edge.

His fingers find your clit, and there’s nothing teasing left in his touch. His pace is relentless, claiming you, setting free a primitive, unstoppable fire.

You want so much more from him, but you can’t hold out any longer. You clench your thighs around Joel’s head and surrender, biting on your own wrist to stifle your cry as you light up inside. 

Joel lifts his head to watch you come. He slows his pace on your sensitive clit, brushing his thumb lazily over you as you catch your breath. You tremble at the soft contact and run your fingers gently through his hair.

Joel rises to his feet, dropping his eyes to retie your bikini strings. When he's finished, you push yourself up and slide off the counter to stand on unsteady legs. You're separated from Joel by the smallest cushion of heat. He tugs your top back into place, adjusting it so you’re once again decent.

It’s almost unbearable, the warm and steady way he puts you back together. You feel a sudden instinct to be close to him, to press yourself into his chest, but you know that’s not what he wants. Instead, you raise your palm as if to brace yourself and rest it over his heart.

He steps back, and your hand falls.

“You head out first, Cinderella. Can’t keep Courtney waiting.”

You leave him in the bathroom, his hair mussed, and swallow down a feeling that sits tight in your throat.

 --

By Eliza’s watch, it’s 6:19 when you pin the final Love to See You Again letter to Lucas’s button-up. You say your goodbyes to three despondent, letter-less Suitors, and just like that you’ve made it through your first week of filming.

The Villa’s parking lot is glowing with amber light as Eliza walks you to back to the SUV. Courtney rushes past, squeezing you into a quick hug on the way to her car, her Hinge date successfully scheduled. The PAs chatter giddily around you, unable to believe they’re out while the sun is still in the sky.

You spot Joel in the cab of his truck. He raises a hand to you as he turns the key in his ignition. You hear a swell of music as the engine hums to life.

It’s Bob Dyan. “Boots of Spanish Leather.” The kind of music your parents loved.

The ballad echoes in your mind, continuing long after you return to your plush, empty hotel room. Finally, you pick up your guitar and take a seat on the balcony. You sing your favorite verse.  

Oh, but if I had the stars from the darkest night And the diamonds from the deepest ocean I’d forsake them all for your sweet kiss For that’s all I’m wishin’ to be ownin’

Then your hands move of their own accord, shifting to create a wordless melody. It’s slow and deep, the type of song that you’ve forgotten how to find. You watch the setting sun in the distance, steady on its path to meet the sea.

[naomissecret]

fuckgirl!reader gets revenge against loser!matt

you wanted matt, a lot, but sometimes it’s frustrating when matt remembers he has some sort of power over you because of that, and lately he’s been teasing you a fucking lot.

the last couple of days he’s found amusing to tease you and annoy you whenever you guys had a reunion with the group, playing smash bros? matt would proposed sit by side you and every time he would win he’ll murmur “you see? I’m good at using my hands” and play with the controller bottoms thumbing them with a stupid smirk on his face, everyone cooking something? he would try to slip his hands under your arms with the excuse of ‘I’m just trying to grab something’ and grab your waist to move you around like some kind of doll, it was annoying, he knew what he was doing.

but today you were gonna make him pay for it.

matt has been doing some kind of video recording for his skater friends, help them record the sessions and all that stuff, he offered you to go with him supposedly cause “They skated better with some female presence for the video” yeah, uh huh, of course

today you were gonna play dirty, just like he’s been doing these days, if there’s something matt hated (or loved) was when you wear blouses that would show your boobs, he swear if you weren’t the way you are he could stare at them all day, and you’ve catch him staring at them sometimes so you knew somehow that was his debility. your boobs.

after a couple of hours of recording you guys leaved, hop into the car and started to make you guys way to your house, it was time to make your plan happen, you took off your hoodie revealing your bodysuit that showed pretty much of your scoop neckline, your boobs sitting nicely and quickly getting a reaction from matt

all the way home he would steal glances at your neckline and sometimes stuttering, drumming on the steer wheel trying so hard to keep his nonchalance, but these whole ‘boob trap’ was just a little part of what you had planned

when you guys arrived finally arrived to your house it was when the fun started

“So…um guess I’ll see you tuesday uh… dylan says he got a new game for the xbox and we all want to play it so…yeah” matt said with his gaze flickering between your eyes and boobs “maybe we can hang tomorrow, just you and me, we can smoke a bit” you say softly teasing, with a tiny grin, “fuck no, you’re crazy, last time we ‘just smoked’ you wouldn’t stop looking at me like if I was some sort of sex toy” he chuckled and shifted on his seat trying not to keep staring at your boobs

you shifted in the seat to get closer and cup his face, his face with that usual annoyed and nonchalant expression, like if your touch were nothing to him, but he didn’t pull away, you gently caressed his cheek on the growing stubble as he looked at you

“yeah? just like you’re looking at me right now?” that shut him up, he thought he was being discreet

“what? can’t speak now?” you mutter with a scoff and a smirk

“shut up”

“make me”

he hesitated, he really didn’t wanted to but he can’t hold it anymore, all these months of frustration, all these months that he’s been holding back, all these months of nonchalance, it’s all build up on him

“you’re such puss-“ he didn’t even let you finish the sentence before he crashed his lips against yours kissing you roughly and desperately

finally, time to get revenge from his teasing of these days, you quickly followed the kiss with more intensity as he gripped your waist and you slide your hand to the back of his neck, between kisses you make sure to slightly bite his bottom lip with enough pressure to what you had on mind

you knew matt had a very sensitive skin, a little punch from nick? in 10 minutes the bruise was visible, a little pinch? his skin was already picking that red tone, you knew an intense kiss would leave evidence.

after some more kisses, tongue and soft bites he pulled away with heavy breath and dizzy eyes as he looked at you

“I’m not a pussy, don’t call me that again” he mumbled trying to prove that it’s not that he was a pussy, he just didn’t wanted to do anything with you “yeah… you pretty much are not… I guess” you spoked softly and let go the back of his neck “I’ll see you tuesday, bye” you say flirty and pressing a small kiss on his cheek as he feigned discomfort

“bye…” he murmured as he watched you get down from the car and get inside your house

he made his way home, very oblivious of what he looked like and what was waiting for him at home

matt arrived to his house, got his camera and backpack to get inside and quickly getting greeted by nick and chris who were watching a movie “MATT! how did you session went-… what the fuck happened to your lips?” said chris surprised when he saw matt’s lips that were slightly swollen and red but enough to get noticed

“what? what are you talking about?” asked matt confused “my lips are fine” he said as he touched his lips not finding anything weird

“yes! your lips are like swollen, like you just got some kind of allergic reaction” chris claimed with a surprised expression while nick make his realization of what was going on as he tried not to laugh “chris, chris, that’s not an allergic reaction” said nick while giggling “then what is it?” asked chris confused by nick’s reaction “matt you go out with y/n, right?” said nick between laughs “yeah…w-why? why you laughing? the fuck is going on?” answered matt annoyed and confused, clearly oblivious of his situation

“oh my god you guys kissed! I can’t believe it! and you said you were never ever in your life will do it! OH MY GOD!” said nick in a very mocking laugh as chris got into realization and bursted in laughs too

matt quickly got blush and locked himself in his room, he pulled out his phone to check, and his lips were indeed slightly swollen and red, he swear to god you did it on purpose, yeah he did been teasing you lately but it wasn’t that much for you to be this evil and boob trap him to make him kiss you, and the worst was leaving evidence that now his brothers could see, and he already knew they would never shut up about it

it was very good revenge, you got all in one, a kiss from matt and you humbled him reminding him who held more power.

♱note: ma ladies we got a kiss! finally, i thought abt this and i thought it was funny hehe, hope u guys liked it OH and… WE HAVE A LOSER MATT BOT! you can find it here or on my masterlist <3 I’ll be working on more posts this weekend

🏷️: @izzylovesmatt @fadedstvrn @sturnvdds @sorrybirds @viviansturns @sophand4n4 @whore4chris @matthewbernardswife @adorematt

[n1k0laa5]

✧ ･ﾟINTRODUCTION ･ﾟ✧

☽𓂃⋆⁺₊ hello helloooo my little pixel-dusted darlings, reality-skippers, god-babies and deities in training!!!

you’ve just stumbled… or maybe manifested? channeled? saw it in a dream? felt the pull in your solar plexus—into a corner of the internet where your human suit will probably glitch, your sense of self will start peeling like glitter stickers off a foggy mirror, and your concept of “reality” might just cry a little in the backroom,, teehee.

anywayzzz hi. I’m Nikolas. it means Victory of the People and i always gloat abt it. You can call me any version of my name, srsly, Nikk, Niko, Nikki, idrc ;3

You may have seen my posts recently as I’ve been a lurker on tumblr for a while and decided to just post a bit, then realized “woah, people like this” so here’s my introduction! yes, i may sound slightly different compared to my post cuz i’ve dialed down the seriousness lolll

🪞— i’m part hyper-child that’ll bite your ankles, part god, part tired teenager scribbling affirmations in the margins of existence and screaming motivation at you.

14 years on this planet—15 soon, so clap for me on july okay?? i want confetti and cupcakes with existential sprinkles.

i was already an open minded child and lived in my imagination most my life—so finding manifesting and shifting felt like it was FOR me. i’ve been shifting since 2022, have shifted before and i think i started manifesting since i was like, nine, before i even knew what that meant. i was just like “if i imagine i give off queen bee vibes.. it works?!” It was mostly appearance and family related things I manifested, I created from nothing like it was breathing.

and now? now i do it on purpose.

🎠 — this blog is a playground for the formless. a candyland of divine chaos. a metaphysical scrapbook for weird little gods with glittery fingers and notebooks full of spells that rhyme with their heartbreaks.

i talk about manifestation, law of assumption, reality shifting, the void, dreams, non-physical planes, quantum stuff but like… cute. i probably cried on the floor last week but still channeled something celestial the same night. duality is real. i am the contradiction.

🧸 — i’m everything and nothing all at once.

you’ll either feel me like static electricity in your chest

or not at all.

and that’s okay too.

🪐 — i don’t care what gods you believe in, if you kneel when you pray, or if you think tarot is a scam and the universe is just a rock. i will however keep spreading my belief that you are god so if u don’t like that then.. sorry:(

i’ve been through stuff. i’m an ex-muslim, Iraqi, bisexual child with more trauma than folders in my google drive. i’m soft and electric. i’m a little delusional. i’m learning how to laugh at the dream while still dreaming it.

and you?

you’re here.

that means you’re ready. or maybe just curious.

either way, stay. plz.

𖤐 okok wait—wait. don’t scroll yet. i’m not done being mysterious in an attention seeking way

𓆩𖤐𓆪 FUN (???) FACTS ABOUT ME

☞ i have a tiktok account 4 shifting! (shiftingwithniko,, yes, shameless promo.) but i’m not rlly active there anymore bc we all know how shiftok is..

☞ i am SO shit at keeping friends so if we’re moots, expect very awkward talks.

☞ i’m too emotionally cooked to stay in this dimension but I’ll try my best to get out constant posts for y’all..

☞ too many drs, too many ideas, too many hopes and dreams, but aren’t we all like this

✧:˚🫀 MY GENERAL VIBES:

��� i’m the kind of person who will walk into a room like i invented existence and then immediately spiral about if i said “hi” weird

— i have main character syndrome and background character syndrome at the exact same time. how? don’t ask. i just do.

— sometimes i say stuff like “i’m literally god” and then trip over air and cry about my tone sounding weird when i ordered food.

— i’m a walking contradiction and that’s the POINT. like. i will scream at the sky to bend for me, and then cry because my hair isn’t doing the thing i wanted.

— i wanna sit on a cloud and giggle but also punch god in the throat and become him.

☾⋆｡𖦹°‧ my personality.. yay..

a child god who’s a little too aware.

like, i KNOW too much for someone who still gets sparkly-eyed over stickers and wears fuzzy socks while rewriting timelines.

i call it Divine Hyper Teen Boy Delusion (™ pending.)

pretty sure i change personalities every week and have an identity crisis like thrice a month

⚠️ — i’m not here to convince you of anything.

i’m just here to remind you that you’re not crazy for feeling like you were meant for more.

you were. you are. and you already are it.

🍬 THINGS I BELIEVE IN:

— manifestation (all methods; LOASS, LOA, etc)

— shifting

— subliminals

— astral projection

— you are god

so yeah.

stay divine, pretty souls.

don’t forget to script. or not, ur choice!

drink water (or stardust).

and remember, if reality acts up?

Make a new one.

— with shaky hands & glittering neurons, Nikolas, your neighborhood hypermanifestor, glitter prophet, & certified timeline menace

pspsps you’re cute & you deserve a dream that kisses you back.

[theh0lylyre]

That necklace... and a start of a love story 💘

(V x F!reader, friends to lovers)

yes this user starves for V content so she makes her own

I actually got DMC5 last week and V is so fun to play…. my favorite character is obviously not V 🫩

Also I might not post for a while. Uni starts next week, so I’ll be busy. Gotta pass before I get V’s ass. I’m sorryyy ✨

“V, I think this girl likes you.”

You were beside Lady and you guys were chatting. You’ve been wanting to confess to your long-term crush, the emo boy, the human half of Vergil. You both have been close friends but you’re afraid that V might not even understand how you feel towards him.

You didn’t expect Lady to take the first move. Fuck. This was never part of the plan. You were supposed to confess before New Year. Or maybe mutter out words during an intense demon battle to give him motivation. You both approach V, walking towards him while his back faces you. You were already very, very flustered. And what’s worse is, Griffon adds fuel to the fire.

Griffon is well aware of how you feel towards V, and he promised to keep it a secret. Now, he’s on Lady’s side this time. You wish a qliphoth root could just take you right now and seal you away forever.

“O-Oh! Right! She has a crush on you—“

“Shut up, annoying chicken!!!”

You shout at Griffon, making him stop instantly. You knew he was afraid of you, yet he still spilled the honest truth to his summoner.

V faces towards the two of you, eyes locking with yours. Lady smirks, and runs away.

“Trish is calling me. See you later!”

You wanted to slap her but it has sinked in, that maybe this is the day where you lose your very best friend. Thanks to some annoying blue chicken and a short haired girl.

“….What is a crush? Like you want to crush me into pieces?”

V questions, still looking at you. He notices your flustered, red-as-a-tomato face, and a slight smirk forms on his lips. Maybe he does understand after all.

“Ha! Q-Quite the opposite actually—“

“—Stupid chicken! Ignore him, V. I-I don’t even know what he’s saying…”

“You will pay for this, Griff…” are the only words you can formulate in your head. Your mind is totally blank, afraid of what fate has in store for you. It’s over, you think. You still try to think.

With the help of his cane, he walks toward you, your faces now inches away from each other. You can feel the heat from his body radiating.

“Tell me, y/n. What is this… crush thing…?”

“U-Um… Nothing really! I don’t know what—“

V starts to feel a little frustrated. You were quite the honest girl to him. He knows all your secrets. And what makes it even painful is, he holds the necklace you gave him tightly. You gave it 3 years ago as a gift, and from that day he never took it off. But it seems that he’s about to rip it off his neck. 3 years down the drain. Fuck your devil-hunter-in-love-with-an-emo-boy life.

“Aren’t we close after all, y/n? You don’t keep secrets from me.”

You felt a pang of guilt. You now think it’s your fault. For admitting your crazy feelings to Lady and Mr. Annoying Chicken. You should’ve just kept it inside. Until you can’t hold it in anymore. Regret has bloomed in you.

Suddenly, you feel a gloved hand on your cheek. It was V’s hand. He checks on your temperature.

“Are you alright? You don’t look well. You’re quite red, too.”

“Ah…. Yeah! J-Just feeling a little cold…”

“You’re lying, aren’t you? I know there’s something deeper.”

You stay silent. At this point, you are completely surrendered by his touch.

“Uh oh… this is getting spicy…”

Without a word, V snaps, and Griffon disappears in an instant, leaving the two of you.

“I do not desire to conceal this feeling any longer, either.”

He drops his cane, both hands cupping your cheeks, and he pulls you in for a kiss. His lips feel soft against yours, and you instantly kissed back. You can’t believe that this boy stole your first kiss.

You both pull back, looking into each other’s eyes passionately. You did it. You finally confessed your feelings for him.

He suddenly pulls out his book, holding tightly onto the necklace you gave him, and reads one out loud to you.

“…I shall write your name here then. This is our book now.”

Little did you know that the poem he read was just one of the poems he wrote for you. Half of the book are full of poems about you, and V can’t wait to show them off throughout your brand new relationship. 🖤

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

What are subby and domme up to? 👀

Suggestive content. Something sweet and spicy. Muah.

__________________________

The Tuesday morning is bright; the pair giggling mostly to themselves. Joe's weekend away in New York still fresh on their minds. Domme has one hand lightly curled around the bend in Joe's arm, their sneakers silent as they walk in tandem together down the block.

"I still think I could've pitched better," she teases.

"Want to put money on that? I'd love to see you try," Joe hums in return, a soft giggle leaving him as his fingers find her and squeeze just a hair.

"Yes, I would. I do want to try a batting range too. You might destroy me there, but you can't throw everything like a football, you know?"

Domme was in New York with him, but not at the event. She instead ventured around the city, scouting places for them to eat at, window shopping, enjoying Central Park. Part of her was looking for wedding related things: vintage heels if she happened across them, accessories if she found a shop to peek her head into. Mostly, though, she just filled her day and Joe's phone with a litter of pictures from the places she'd gone, the rat art she noticed on the concrete, tiny boutiques and bodegas that caught her attention.

Joe wanted her in New York, wanted her with him desperately to get away from the monotony of their routine at home. He won't lie, Joe also wanted something to ground him once he left the convention too. Wedding planning ate up most of their evenings and though Joe wanted her to take a break, to unwind as he worried she'd been hitting the gas too hard and for too long, he had a feeling doing so in a crowded event hall, people constantly swirling about was not the place to do it. Joe could see the fraying of her edges and figured that while she was getting more comfortable being in the light with him, she answered 'yes' with less hesitation when Joe asked her if she'd be comfortable being his plus one to events, Fanatics Fest just didn't seem like the place she'd want to be or the place Joe wanted her to be. It most likely would not help her decompress--nor did it decompress Joe, but he did still have fun. So, Domme's attendance was optional, but her relaxation, her taking a day just for herself was mandatory.

Joe's debrief about how terrible he pitched was the highlight for Domme apparently, not even his score on the UFC punching bag changed her tune. They reunited at the end of the evening; Joe absolutely drained from the day, but happy to see Domme's grin from the backseat of the truck before they headed off for the sparkle and grime of late night parties. She rolled down the window, head peaking out, sunglasses big on her face, "Hey, handsome. You look like you could use a ride. Hop in." And Joe wanted nothing more than to do just that, than to tuck himself under her arm as they headed to dinner and talked about their days, Joe's voice getting lost against the thin skin of her throat.

But she's refused to let him live down the pitching. Even now. Days later, she'd look at him and just giggle. And Joe always knew exactly what was making her laugh.

"It's literally my job," Joe retorts to her jab at his abysmal performance.

He hadn't been proud of how things went in the moment, but Domme cradled his jaw, pressed a kiss to his lips and teased in a grin that it was a good thing he quit baseball when he did, he's a much better football player. I'll take you terrible aim and all, she said. Joe's only logical response was to melt into her soft confession. Even in the back of the SUV, caring and not caring that Joe had literally gone from his normal blank slate into an utter lovesick fool in one glance because he knows Domme means it. She always would. And if that's not faith, Joe doesn't know what is.

"You don't throw me around like a football," Domme hums. Her voice brings Joe back to the present moment, to the hot concrete, air stiff and sun broiling even though it's not even the hottest part of the day.

Joe pauses underneath the pink awning of the bakery. "Do you want me to?"

"I'll answer if I get to hear you say all of that question."

God. The dark and deep rumble in her voice punches at his gut, the sultry rumble that makes tangles the words between a request and a command, but it makes his cock twitch just a little in his jeans. "Do you want me to toss you around like a football?" He asks it low, not unaware that they are on the sidewalk in broad daylight, on a Tuesday fucking morning.

"Every once and a while. Can't have all those muscles for nothing."

Joe snorts before he really means to at her last sentence. The humor does not undo the heat in the words, how much he's recently wondered what it could be like to get a little rough with Domme. Joe just loves it more when she's rough with him. Can't help but adore the sinister twist to her lips, like she's got a secret she's not supposed to share but is. He loves the way she looks at him, tender but hot. Joe loves when it's just them, just the love and adoration that seeps into the kisses and touches.

"I will keep that in mind." It's all Joe says before he pulls the door open for her, lets her walk in ahead of him, but peering over her just to make sure the coast is clear.

The bakery is cold, the air rushing out the moment the seal of the door is broken, but they carry on around the few tables that are set out and up towards the register. One employee is helping a small family--a mother with two kids, holding onto her hand, the other on her hip. A few teens are in the back corner, but they look absorbed into their phones, giggling as the faint sound of a video plays. It's not loud enough to hear word for word what's going on, just loud enough to know that they are watching something.

"Welcome in!" The call is far, not loud. Joe finds himself looking for the person behind the voice from beneath the blue tinted shades.

Domme takes the lead, easing closer and then she stops a few inches shy of the counter, in front of Joe, Joe behind her, not necessarily intending to shield her from the rest of the storefront, but effectively doing that.

"Hi, how are you?" Domme asks, reflexively. She does this all the time. She turns the question to the employee first and Joe's never understood it, even though she had a couple years in college in the industry Joe was sure the habit would've broken all these years later. Yet, it hasn't. Joe's glad he's not put money on that.

"Oh, good, thanks for asking. How are you two?"

"Good, thanks. We have a pick up order." Domme gives her name, omits Joe's, but it's clear that the young woman, at most in her late 20's, seems to recognize Domme's name and nods.

"Yes, yes, I remember the call! Wedding cake flavors, right?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"That's so exciting. I'll be right back with your box!" The woman's off before Domme can express her gratitude.

Joe tuts out a piece of laughter, all mostly an exhale. "She's more excited than us."

"We are the ones who have to plan this thing, fighting about colors and venues," she laughs in response, easing a hair back into Joe's chest. The touch is quick, all mostly a brush. Her shoulders against his sternum, his fingers teasing at the middle of her shoulder blades and then they're back to their prior positions: Domme erect, Joe slipping his arms across his chest, folded one atop on the other.

They don't really need to do the pick up together, Joe knows that. Domme had already sat with him to select four different flavor options. But it's not about what they need to do, it's just about having this time--intentionally setting aside the day with her, knowing that after this, there's still the day of just them. They could do just about anything, might find themselves in some shade in a local park fighting the eat as they indulge in something cold to prevent sticky fingers and bowls coming creamy puddles.

The woman returns, a bright pink box in hand to match her smile. "I hope you guys find something you like." She tugs at a taped on receipt, confirmation undoubtedly of their prepayment, and it pops off with ease. "Do you need forks?"

Domme looks up, eyes peering up over her shades. "Feel comfy tasting here?"

The cakes shouldn't be too big at all. The box waiting for them is smaller than Joe anticipated. And they probably won't be here long all things considered. Joe nods once, "Yeah."

"Oh, perfect!" The young woman cheers, reaches for a few napkins and then uses those to pluck the forks from the waiting metal tin. She places the entire stack onto the box. "Enjoy! Good luck with all your planning."

Domme collects the box. "Thanks, we appreciate it. Have a great rest of your day." And when she turns, she smiles up at Joe, "Lead the way."

"Give me that. I'll have you know my hands are in working order."

He's met with an eye roll but Domme hands over the box and Joe turns, but not before he shuffles everything into his left hand to reach back with his right for her. They settle into a back corner, on the opposite side of the teens, behind the family by about five tables or so, Joe's back faces the bright window and Domme scoots the chair next to him in even closer.

The box is divided at the bottom into four quadrants, a tiny print out of each flavor is delicately taped to the inside of each section and the pieces are rest, icing in the middle for consumption. Joe clinks his fork against Domme's one downturned utensil, a small tut of laughter escaping him.

"What are we cheersing exactly?" she asks, words dripping with the amusement she hasn't exhaled.

Joe shrugs. "I don't know. Felt like the right thing to do. I've never been engaged before."

"Neither have I. But I don't think we cheers cake flavors."

"Well, I will," Joe returns, a defiant tilt of his head. "Put that fork up for a proper cheers." Domme flicks the plastic fork, so the prongs face upwards. "To us," Joe starts, easing his in closer.

"To us," she agrees, meeting him the rest of the way. The clink is dull and swallowed up by the tufts of laughter. "Where do you want to start?"

There's lemon, chocolate, white and red velvet marble, and strawberry tiramisu. "Chocolate, for sure."

The cakes are all moist, sponge-y in a way that makes them melt damn near at the first drop of saliva. It seems promising, like their choice will be tougher than originally anticipated. Domme wanted to ensure they got a nice spread of flavors, something to ensure they didn't get backed into a corner that necessarily worked for them. Joe wanted heavy and sweet, but agreed he'd try a couple fruit based options.

Though, now, Joe's maybe regretting the citrus choices. Joe sputters at the lemon bite, not that it's bad, but it's too bright. "I want something indulgent," Joe mutters, a little indignant at the cake's taste. He'll admit going to chocolate first probably spoiled the rest of the flavors, but it looked so inviting sitting there. How could Joe say no to chocolate cake. "I want something rich, you know?"

"I've got something you can indulge," Domme retorts. It's soft, a quick quirk of her brow and then she goes in for the last flavor--a white and red velvet marble.

Joe's laughter leaves him sputtered, his hand covering his mouth around his remaining bite of the lemon cake. But Joe slips one hand under the table, over her knee and tugs until Domme's facing him. The skirt falls away just a little, the thigh high slit keeping just enough covered of her lap.

"I bet you do," Joe agrees. "I bet you do."

She grins even though she shudders, easing her legs apart to allow him to trail up, and up, and up. Between her thighs is warm, especially in the cold of the humming AC. It's only inches and thin cotton between him and what he could indulge in, but Joe has a little bit more patience than that. So he stays there, inches from her core and squeezes at her inner thighs.

"Last one?" Domme offers. Her glasses are pushed to the top of her head, and her eyes dazzle in the sun, not even a squint hides away just how close she knows she is to the fire.

"It looks goods," Joe offers, turning his attention back towards the box. His hand doesn't leave though. Neither one of them says anything either. Joe just lazily strokes the warm flesh and takes his portion of the cake onto his fork.

Domme hums around the bite, fork bouncing towards the bottom left quadrant. "Talk about indulgent. That's it."

"Isn't like the only difference between chocolate and red velvet food dye?" The question pauses Joe's work of the fork to his mouth.

"Bite me. I don't care. I don't know. I don't care to know if I'm honest. It's fucking delicious."

Joe tries his bite, but focuses on how Domme's eyes close, her wiggle in the chair solidifying how much she's enjoying this particular selection. The cream cheese frosting does make the cake richer in a way, really settles into the grooves of the tongue. It's a sinful delight and wants the consumer to know it for every bite. Though Joe still likes the chocolate, his chest warms at her excitement, the way her lips and mouth curl around her grin around the second bite of the cake. The only cake she's gone back in for seconds for.

"I think it's the difference between the buttercream and the cream cheese frostings," Domme adds on, finger bent and placed in front of her lips.

There, just inside of the corners of her mouth, are a few crumbs. He can't resist, though he knows he should. Joe sets his fork down, using the pads of his fingers to collect the crumbs and holds them against her lips. Waiting, and waiting, and waiting until Domme parts them and swipes the red and white crumbs off his finger. Their bubble is tight, like the way Joe's stomach twists and holds, the heat of their exchange searing into his skin.

"Red and white marble it is." His agreement is all an exhale, all a wispy breath that nearly gets sucked into the hum of the AC, snakes around the chatter around them.

"If you want--"

"No, I want this one." If only to see her delight again. If only to feed her more crumbs. If only to wipe a dollop of icing onto her nose just to kiss it off when she's dressed in all white.

Domme eases in, knees pressing into his. Joe's fingers slide up and up and Domme closes the gap, lips sealing around the corner of his mouth, tongue flickering out. "Thank you, baby," she purrs and then slips back into her seat, collects the last bites of the red and white velvet marble cake. "Want the last bite?"

"I do." He pairs it with a wink, hand between her thighs, squeezing at the flesh. "I'm getting practice on saying that."

Domme feeds him the last pieces, steady as she holds the fork out. "I can tell. I like the way it sounds."

[kettleworth]

Sugar Kisses - A Susie x Ralsei Fanfic

Wrote a cute, fluffy little fic based on a comic by @myvermilioneyes because it's so damn adorable that it makes me feral. Go check them out!

...god damn it. He was being overly humble again. Even in one of their few moments of relaxation and downtime, Ralsei was still putting himself down.

It was subtle this time around. He wasn't so naive that he would keep acting like an overly innocent idiot baby around everyone else. It was obvious that the Prince was more than capable of intense magic, building, leadership (when necessary), and learning from his mistakes, whenever possible. Ralsei could look out for himself.

...but he didn't; that is what pissed Susie off the most.

Ralsei invited Kris and her – as well as Lancer and a few other Darkner pals – to a lighthearted get-together the next time the two Lightners paid Castle Town a visit. At first, the party was fun! The energy was high as many of her pals shared tea, finger sandwiches, and an enormous vanilla-frosted strawberry cake between each other. Of course, Elnina and Lanino spent most of their time making disgustingly sweet kissy-faces and murmuring sweet nothings to each other to really pay attention to everyone else. Susie chose to ignore them, for the most part, for no other reason than it made her want to puke up her tea and food. Envy? What the fuck was that?

At least Lancer was a good enough distraction, as he provided multiple laughs. Not just to Susie, but to the entire table. He bounced around from spot to spot, barely able to keep his butt in his 'designated chair'. This wasn't unexpected of the young Darkner, and Rouxl's attempts at keeping him calm only made matters more chaotic. It didn't help that he never sat in a seat, either.

'Can this guy even use his ass for anything other than standing?' Susie pondered, already polishing off her slice of cake before Ralsei even finished serving everyone their portions. If it were just her, Kris, and Ralsei, she'd already be reaching for seconds. Since this obviously wasn't the case – and because she didn't want to make a scene in front of Nubert – she quickly decided against it, opting to join in on conversation while sipping – okay, slurping – her tea. She was surprised at how sweet it happened to taste, even without her adding anything to her cup. 'Okay... does Ralsei only know how to make sweet stuff?!' She thought, absentmindedly listening in on the current topic. She wasn't complaining, of course.

She shouldn't have been too surprised with Ralsei proving, yet again, that he was a very excellent host, yet the fact that she only saw him take one singular bite of cake in between small, polite sips of tea caused her to forget about literally everything else. After all, the Prince elicited an extremely cute expression of enjoyment as he ate his own culinary creation. Why didn't he eat more of it?!

...what? So she kept track of how much Ralsei ate. So what?

Susie attempted to keep thoughts of the infuriatingly cute Prince out of her mind as she interacted with everyone. Kris was always dozens – if not hundreds – of laughs. They even taught Ralsei a few rude jokes to repeat sometime! Most of which involved the infamous “man from Nantucket”.

“K-kris!” Ralsei gasped at one point, hiding his muzzle with his scarf as everyone else howled with laughter. “H-how crude! I can't say that word!”

“Ho ho ho!” Lancer laughed uproariously, reaching an arm around the flustered goat boy. “Let Daddy Lancer help you, Toothpaste Boy!”

“...Daddy WHO?” Kris repeated suddenly, obviously shocked with the sentence. They began to double over in their chair, barely able to hide back their snickers as they held their stomach. Susie was... less subtle, pounding the table as she let loose immense bursts of laughter. Porcelain clattered and clanked as she did so, though thankfully didn't cause more damage. Aside from spilling her own teacup off the side. Clearly, she was far too amused to even worry about the hot liquid falling near her lap.

“BWAHAHA! YUH-YEAH- AHAHA! C-c'mon, 'Daddy' Lancer, tell us the word we shouldn't say!”

Throughout all of this, Rouxls merely watched with a semi-concerned expression, peering over at Ralsei as they stammered in confusion. “...huh? Uh... I don't think 'Daddy Lancer' should be saying that word, either!”

'Oh god, he doesn't know!' Susie thought, wheezing at this point as she gripped the tablecloth tightly with her left hand. 'FUCK me, Ralsei, you gotta talk to Queen more often!' It was weird to think that Ralsei knew what 'that word' meant, but didn't know the connotation behind 'Daddy'. Selective knowledge, she figured.

“Hey, don't worry!” Lancer continued, clearly enjoying the raucous laughter and attention he was receiving from his friends. “Lesser Dad has given me a whole list of tier four swears I shouldn't repeat! And this one seems like the most fun! Listen!” The young boy stated, clearing his throat before taking an incredibly deep inhale, puffing out his cheeks as he readied himself to scream the word in question.

“...CUN-”

“LANCER!” Rouxls Kaard interjected, suddenly slapping a hand over his mouth. A familiar 'SPLAT!' noise was elicited as he did so, though the tall, blue weirdo merely laughed with an uncomfortable tone. “Erm.... ahahah! Forgeteth everythinge he doth said! He knoweth not what he speaketh of!”

Within a second, however, Lancer retaliated against the lanky 'puzzle master' by chomping his thick, rounded teeth onto Rouxls' finger.

“...CHOMP!”

Rouxls let out a high pitched squeal, immediately letting go of the young boy's face as he ran away in a hyperactive, playful manner.

Naturally, the sight was more than enough to cause the three 'heroes of prophecy' loads of laughter. It was especially hilarious when the 'Duke Of Puzzles' began to chase after him, with an infuriated expression. “AAAAUUUGHH THOU... THOU WRETCHED CHILD!”

Within seconds, the 'Lesser Dad' started to play a one-sided version of 'Ring Around the Rosie' by chasing Lancer around the table. The two Lightners began to laugh at the sight, as did the 'Dark Prince', who was gripping his own teacup while pretending to not be.

“Hehehe! R-rouxls, stop! Y-you're ruining the t-tea party..!” Ralsei giggled heartily. Susie was quick to notice his feet kicking gleefully. Her cheeky smile became more subdued, pretending as if she hadn't noticed.

“I... am ruininge NOTHING!” He insisted, diving for the bouncy, bubbly boy. Obviously, he missed, causing Lancer to run straight out of the room, heading... elsewhere. “Tis be-eth this boye who squandereth our fun times!”

“Guess you'll hafta catch me to prove it, Lesser Dad!” Lancer called out, laughing louder as Rouxls grumbled even louder, chasing the smaller Darkner out of the room.

“AUGH! K-Kris! Dear friende! Mine fellow 'Puzzle Enjoyere!' S-surely thou will h-helpeth me on mine quest to capture thine bouncing baby boye... right?” Rouxls pleaded, already kneeling down and bowing his head as she begged to the human Lightner.

Susie watched as Kris let out a small laugh, wasting no time in standing on their feet, nodding eagerly. Not before grabbing their slice of Ralsei's cake and taking a large, eager bite of it. So large, in fact, that they might as well have finished it in one go. Susie was shocked... yet impressed. She felt as if Ralsei felt the same way, even as they started to follow the goofy, blue Darkner out of the room.

“S-splendid! Followe me, Sir Kris!”

“Ho ho ho!” Lancer's laugh echoed. “Two blues don't make a right, y'know!”

“LANCER! Stop teasingth me!” The so-called 'Duke of Puzzles' whined, being tailed by the human. By this point, many of the others had already left the room, either in playful pursuit of the young Darkner, or – in the case of Elnina and Lanino – 'other reasons'. Seeing the display, however, Susie couldn't help but immediately stand up from her seat, screeching the chair loudly.

“Yo, are we playing games now?!” She asked excitedly, her adrenaline rushing, ready to follow pursuit of the gangly, high-pitched Darkner.

“Oh, games? Please let me join!” Ralsei added in, standing up from his chair. Hearing this, Susie couldn't help but freeze up, watching as the goat stood up, ready to follow Kris. Leaving behind his portion of cake. His uneaten portion.

This is where Susie felt her earlier worries. Her frustrations. Games were fun, and everyone's enjoyment was palatable, but something stopped her. Was it her nerves? Her thoughts? Possibly. Before Ralsei could exit the combined bedroom that happened to belong to her and Kris, she spoke up.

“...Hey,” She started up, her voice a bit too loud for comfort. It was enough to stop Ralsei in his tracks, immediately facing the purple girl with both hands folded politely behind his back.

“...o-oh, sorry, Susie! Did you need something?” He asked happily, bearing a smile that she knew was less than genuine. Not that she'd tell him. She had her own agenda on her mind.

“Ralsei,” She started, her hair barely shadowing her eyes as she reached for his plate. Even up close, she could tell that his one, singular bite was less than satisfying for her wants. “You still didn't finish your cake.”

Without missing a beat, Ralsei closed his eyes, bouncing on his toes as he beamed eagerly – perhaps overly eagerly – to Susie. “It's okay! You can finish it!”

...fuck. FUCK. There he went again. Too humble to accept something. A gift. As usual. Even his own cooking wasn't safe from his selfish selflessness! Her seemingly neutral expression became more serious, boring into the Prince's pink eyes. Her gaze was... overly serious. Enough to throw him off guard. 'Wrong answer, bucko.'

“I ate mine, dumbass,” Susie replied with a steady, monotone voice. She didn't want to scare Ralsei away, after all. Her nerves wouldn't allow her to do so if she wanted to! Swearing came naturally to her, however, and the short, adorable prince didn't seem to react one way or the other.

'Just eat your damn cake already!' She yelled within the confines of her mind, growing more frustrated as Ralsei momentarily covered his muzzle with a sleeved hand. For a moment, Susie felt as if she was about to go feral. She knew this overly accommodating cutie-pie (where did that come from?!) would refuse her advances. Before he even had the chance, her smile became a bit wider. More... unhinged.

“...do you want me to goddamn spoon-feed you or somethin'?” Susie offered, half-joking as she began to sweat and blush. She'd sooner throw herself into a meat grinder than-

“Susie, I-” Ralsei stammered, alerting her attention. For a brief moment, she expected the usual Ralsei excuses.

'Nooo, it's too sweet, you eat it! Noooo, I made that for you and Kris! NOOOOOO, Kris would love eating that slice! Kris this, Kris that, Kris, Kris KRIS!' Susie thought, already starting to bite her lip. She nearly expected to start bleeding. Her hands trembled, ready to stand up and fetch the non-committal human.

That was until the supposed Prince froze up. His ears and cheeks began to flush darkly and deeply, rapidly at that. At first, Susie imagined she did something wrong, seeing Ralsei turn his body away from her tall, muscular frame.

“...Ralsei?” She asked, beginning to grow paranoid. The goat boy only shivered in place, his fingers attempting to grip his own hands tighter.

'...what the hell is he even thinking of right now?' Susie thought, starting to grow worried.

'YES? NO? YES, NO? NO, YES?!?' Ralsei thought to himself, attempting to hide his blushing face from Susie. God, this was such an embarrassing question! Did he need to be spoon-fed? No! Obviously not! He wasn't a moron! He knew how silverware worked!

...yet here was Susie. Tall, strong, intimidating, kind Susie. Asking if he needed to be fed! By HER?!

Ralsei's fantasies filled with the tall, purple girl, who was shoving spoon after spoon of his own cakes. A part of him wondered if she was requesting this because she wanted to make fun of him. To point and laugh and smear frosting on his fluffy fur while trying to make others look at her attempt of 'artistry'.

Most of him however... figured she'd 'do the right thing'. There was only one way to find out..

With his cheeks and ears glowing a deep, glowing pink, he clenched his eyes shut, burying his mouth within his scarf as he turned back around. It was so selfish of a request, and yet... the thought alone brought him joy. He was willing to take the chance. Before Ralsei could even begin to fight against his own want of joy, his mouth reacted faster than his brain, his head nodding violently. It was as if he had a dangerous, venomous bug on his head that he wanted to shake off.

“Yes! Y-yes..! Okay..! S-sure!” He yelped out, his voice pitched higher than was usually expected of the helpful young Prince. Being spoon-fed? Ralsei wouldn't go against this request! Not if someone else wanted to do this. Not if Susie wanted to do it.

Susie stared at him with a wide, shocked expression, apparently not even sure of what to do as she stared at the squirming, blushing goat boy. Even with his eyes shut tight, he knew he had said the wrong thing. Before he could bleat an apology, however, Susie let out a loud, bemused snort. At first, Ralsei thought she'd laugh cruelly at him. She'd deny him. 'WHAT THE FUCK, RALSEI?!' she'd yell, smearing cake into his snout. 'ARE YOU GODDAMN-'

“Okay, okay!” The real Susie laughed, barely able to hide her amusement as she stepped closer to the 'lonely prince'. Her left hand held his saucer of cake, while the right hand held a teeny tiny dessert spoon. The reptilian girl was surprisingly delicate with holding such small silverware. Susie's tone was still humorous, holding disbelief in Ralsei's reaction. “...what the hell is up with you?”

Ralsei chose not to answer, clenching his eyes tight before they teared up with embarrassment. His knees buckled, causing the prince to kneel on both knees before the larger, stronger, muscular girl. It was as if his body was succumbing to her rough tone. '...I feel so stupid and selfish!' Ralsei admitted to himself, beginning to anxiously clench the hem of his robes. 'Please, please just refuse this! Oh, h-how absolutely awful of me! No Lightner should ever bend their knee to-”

“Damn, quit nodding already!” Susie chuckled in disbelief, already kneeling on one knee as she stepped closer to the fluffy Prince of Darkness, readying a spoonful of vanilla-frosted strawberry cake. While clearly flustered, she was also somewhat... worried. “I'll help ya... just don't cry, arright?”

It was at this point that his nostrils took in the delicious scent of his own 'cooking', already feeling his stomach growling. Susie was already starting to push a spoonful of cake towards his mouth.

'THIS IS STUPID! WHAT THE HECK/HELL AM I DOING?!' Ralsei and Susie thought for a brief moment, before following through with each others' actions. This meant that Ralsei immediately chomped upon the spoon, chewing the cake and sucking the frosting off of the spoon in a dainty manner. The purple dragon girl watched, still in disbelief.

'..FUCK!' Susie thought, already pulling her spoon away and readying a second portion of baked goods to Ralsei. 'YOU'D BETTER STOP, OR ELSE I'LL... I'LL..!' She thought heatedly, biting her lips as the goat boy continued to excitedly eat every portion Susie fed to him.

Susie's thoughts froze, watching as Ralsei savored the flavor of frosting on the spoon in his mouth. It was as if it were a rare occasion. As if he weren't supposed to be doing this. His eyes were clenched closed as well, though his noises weren't avoidable.

“...mmh!” He exclaimed, sniffling somewhat. It almost appeared as if he were overwhelmed with emotions. From the way he squirmed, it was clear he was savoring each and every mouthful. The silver spoon clattered gently as he licked and chewed it clean.

“...and another one,” Susie offered gently, readying yet another spoonful of cake before gently pushing it forward. What the FUCK was she doing? A few days ago, the thought of spoon-feeding anyone would make her want to jump into the nearby lake. However, watching Ralsei eagerly munch upon spoonful after spoonful of baked goods only softened her up. She was on one knee, watching as the little nerd graciously savored his own cooking. If she didn't know any better, she would've thought he was... licking the spoon? “Tastes good, right?”

“Mhm,” Ralsei quickly answered, his voice muffled as he kept his eyes shut. His blush was growing deeper and deeper with each second. Naturally, Susie was quick to notice this, feeling equally as embarrassed as the goat was.

'STOP BEING SO GODDAMN CUTE!' She yelled within her mind, shivering and shuddering in place as she stared at Ralsei. Her spoon clattered against the saucer that held his cake, barely able to contain herself.

'Oh god, she must hate this,' The poor prince thought to himself, savoring and gulping down the overly sweet flavor of cake frosting. He might as well leave now, right? Surely, he had eaten enough at this point. Darkners didn't need this sort of treatment. They didn't deserve it. Did they? It didn't stop Susie from feeding him his own magical baking. 'Cut your loses, Ralsei..!' He thought momentarily, wondering if he should just dart for the doorway, chasing after Kris, Lancer, and Rouxls Kaard. 'Just join the others-'

Ralsei's thoughts were interrupted by another spoon of delicious, vanilla-strawberry cake entering his lips. He didn't even realize his mouth was open!

“...weirdo,” Susie huffed playfully, barely able to look away from the sight of what she was allowing to happen. Her tone was gruff, yet... delicate. Gentle. Loving.

...loving?! Where the fuck did THAT... well, why wouldn't this whole ordeal be loving? Here she was, feeding spoonful after spoonful of cake to a guy who didn't even think he deserved a bedroom. It was obvious to her that she had to harbor some sort of love to him. She certainly wouldn't be doing this for anyone else.

“...mhmm....” The submissive prince replied softly, agreeing with her previous statement. He was still in disbelief of what was happening, yet still accepting the actions of his words. Yeah, he was a 'weirdo'. If that was the case, however, he'd happily be a 'weirdo' forever. Whatever made Susie continue to show her kind, gentle affection to him. Ralsei kept his eyes shut as she continued, unsure if he could look into Susie's pretty face without feeling even more flustered than he did currently.

Susie felt somewhat fortunate that Ralsei's eyes were closed. Even if her moves were delicate and slow, it was clear that she was feeling a lot of pent up 'cuteness aggression,' something she never even knew she experienced! Her composure was growing weaker with each piece of cake fed to the fluffy boy, her purple cheeks burning darker and hotter than they've ever been. Her own body was starting to shudder, once again beginning to secretly argue with her instincts.

'He looks so damn happy... I think?! He hasn't pulled away yet...little guy loves this...' She pondered, watching Ralsei thoughtfully chew his current piece. Susie felt her hands shake nervously, a new, different idea spawning in her brain. '...no. This is a dumbass idea, NO. I don't even know if he'll like it!' Ralsei's sweetness was becoming too much for the supposed 'tough girl' to bear. Even when he wasn't trying, he still managed to turn her heart into mushy slop. Why did she love it so much?!

'Do you dare? Do you fucking dare?!' Susie thought, panicking inwardly as she began to bite her lip again.

“...'kay. A-another bite, comin' up,” She said aloud, her hushed voice surprisingly anxious. She quietly set the plate and spoon off to the side, steeling her nerves. 'Now or never..!'

“Uh huh...” Ralsei responded, equally as quiet. With his eyes still shut, he began to open his mouth, readying himself for another piece of cake. Instead of baked goods, however, the fluffy prince got a taste of something very unexpected. In his opinion, it was much better than cake.

Susie had shoved her face forwards, bumping her lips against Ralsei's and kissed him. As the girl held the smooch, his eyes shot open, incredibly surprised with this turn of events. His blush burned redder than apples and hotter than all of the stars in the sky, almost in disbelief of what was even happening! Susie's lips were pleasantly soft, and it only took a few moments before Ralsei found himself melting longingly into the tender moment.

“Mmmh..!” He exclaimed with a muffled squeak, his brain completely fried of any and all conscious thought that didn't have to do with the girl he was kissing.

'Can this boy get any fluffier? Even his damn lips are soft!' Susie mused, barely able to think straight as her stumpy tail began wagging like crazy behind her. She imagined that, if Ralsei had one too, it'd be doing the same (and it was).

A few seconds felt like a few hours, though finally the two pulled away. Their faces hovered merely a few inches away from each other's, both panting gently, looking into each other's eyes. It was as if the two were trying to gauge the other's reaction. The two were clearly flustered, though there was definitely a shared tenderness between them.

For a bit, neither one knew what to even say. Neither one had really kissed anyone before, nor did they expect to do that with each other. It was... pleasant. Ralsei finally found the nerve to whisper, “T-thank you...”

Susie slowly wrapped her left arm around the prince's back, slowly pulling him into an embrace as her other hand started to curl into his. “...want seconds?” She whispered back, her face still warm and comforting, yet still held remnants of a teasing smirk.

The answer came in the form of Ralsei initiating the kiss, this time, feeling a lot more prepared for the action. Susie was eager to follow through, closing her eyes as the two tenderly held and smooched each other. One kiss turned into two, then two into three, with each new kiss lasting longer and longer. The two felt incredibly safe and vulnerable with the other, and almost didn't want the moment to end.

Susie could still taste the sweet frosting on his tongue.

[joces-wrld]

IN WHICH— you and chris hangout at a small get together.

| all fun! not proofread.

| the REST of this writing marathon!

chris is in his room, laying on top of the sheets in grey sweats and a hoodie he hasn’t taken off all day. his tv’s on, volume low, playing something he’s not even watching. one sock on. phone sitting on his chest, buzzing every few minutes with groupchat chaos.

| nate: bro let’s do sum. havent hung out in AGES

| jay: bro...we hung out 2 days ago

| nate: and?? ben said he’s down, his tank’s full

| ben: even jamie said he’d come, and he never comes out

| nate: CHRIS!!

| nate: ask yn :)

he stares at the last text for a second too long. not like you haven’t crossed his mind already.

you’ve been stuck in his head all week. and now it's friday and he’s antsy. bored. restless. craving something fun, something you.

he opens your text thread. fingers hover. then types,

| chris: what’s the move?

you respond in under a minute.

| n/n: julie’s house is empty

| n/n: like… all weekend empty...

his heart actually does a little thump at that.

| n/n: u could come through

| n/n: if u want

he sits up so fast the remote falls off the bed—

| chris: you want just me?

| n/n: up to u

| n/n: you could bring the guys. or not

| n/n: we could just chill, us

he's already off the bed, grabbing his keys.

julie’s house is big. stupid big. like chandelier-in-the-bathroom, driveway-bigger-than-a-court big.

you’re already there when chris shows up, nathan, ben, jay, and jaimie following. he wasn’t gonna bring anyone at first, but you said it was chill. and honestly? he was nervous coming by himself.

not nervous about you.

just nervous because of you.

you’re standing at the door when they pull up, hoodie half-zipped, drink in hand, socks long gone.

“damn,” chris says under his breath, admiring you. "what?” nathan asks, small smirk forming on his lips.

“nah, nothing.” (everything.)

the house fills up slowly.

not a real party, just that messy middle space between “hangout” and “we should probably clean up before someone’s mom comes home.”

music is playing. snacks are being scattered. kitchen lights warm and soft. chris finds you sitting on the counter, legs swinging, drink halfway done.

“you look like trouble,” he teases.

“you sound like my mom,” you shoot back, smirking.

he steps closer, leans his elbows on the counter next to your knee.

“so… is this a just you and me or a bring the whole crew kinda weekend?”

you shrug. “depends. are your friends gonna break anything?”

he laughs. “swear we won’t touch the fancy vases.”

you tilt your head. “you cook?”

he nods. “eggs. ramen. grilled cheese.”

you raise an eyebrow.

he grins. “i never said it was good cooking. just cooking.”

later, the music’s louder, the lights are lower, and your friends are mixing with his. there’s a game of uno going on in the living room, someone’s dancing barefoot in the kitchen, and nathan’s arguing with julie about who’s the better driver meanwhile neither of them have their license on them.

you’re curled up next to chris on the couch, legs tucked under you, one of his hands absentmindedly resting on your knee.

“i like your friends,” you say.

“told you,” he says. “we look dumb but we’re not that bad.”

you smile, leaning into him a little.

“you’re not dumb.” he turns his head to look at you.

like, really look at you. the room’s spinning with sound but you’re both locked in,

“you’re the reason i came,” he says.

your chest flutters, like the fizzy part of soda.

you try to play it cool. fail tremendously a little.

“i’m glad you did.”

“you still glad if i stay the whole weekend?”

“you cool with sleeping on the couch”

he grins, someone yelling, “JULIE’S DOG IS MISSING!!” but no one moves.

just you and him.

a big empty house.

the beginning of something, you think.

maybe not a party. maybe not chaos, just something real.

just you and chris.

a/n: you can tell this was rushed...im sorry, i was on my way to the er when i wrote this 😭😭 i'll prob release another version of this when life's calm down a bit

tags— @clairo4life @xsturnkay @h3arts4isa @mf-divaaa-08 @bugs-tags @moond0llie @izzylovesmatt @courta13 @twylas114 @sturniolos1uts

[deardiarywrites]

make lemonade with the lemons life throws at you - dealing w the blues alone . . .

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✉︎ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

hey guys! how are you all? oh, me? im doing a little meh.. i am someone who feels a lot and yeah you guessed it right. that means whenever i am upset, i feel really really upset and my mind starts bubbling up and slowly starts to disintegrate. that is exactly why i am creating this post. to help myself and you to heal and get better, even when we have no one by our side. especially if we don't have anyone or feel like no one gets us. teeny tiny fix - there are people who care abt us ok? it's just our cute little minds being a bit under pressure rn so it feels like everyone is against us.

tip one : acknowledge your feelings

be upset. be depressed. cry. yes, let it all out. no toxic positivity here. who are we without our shadowy bits? there is nothing wrong to be upset and it's fine if no one gets it. they don't have to get it for it to be real. you are going to be okay. listen to songs that totally describe your situation and mood and let yourself be sad. feel it. and accept it. but don't make it your identity.

pls note ! : please don't harm yourself as it will further ruin your mood. it is possible to allow yourself to feel w/o inflicting damage upon yourself or others. yes, others too. just because you are upset, try not to bring down other people. if u feel like you tend to be extra mean when you are upset, i suggest taking deep breaths before answering someone and don't be afraid to be vulnerable, if you are upset, don't act like you're on top of the world.

tip two : create something even if it sucks

create something. literally anything. paint rocks. braid grass. try a new hairstyle. make a stickman comic strip. make a quiet book (so so so fun). create a notion template. write a short story. write a poem about how you are feeling. draw yourself. choreograph a popular song. cook smth. draw on your body. try a makeup look. cut your hair. write letters you'll never send. write a script and act. create cute costumes. cosplay as your perfect character.

it doesn't have to be perfect. just create. and not for any kind of validation. create something and don't tell anyone about it. it will be your little secret. let it age, like fine wine and fix it every now and then. and then later, when you're feeling better, look at what you created and smile !

tip three : have a "boring" hour

select an hour when you can be left alone, undisturbed and basically do absolutely nothing. don't do anything at all. stare at a wall. no sleeping, reading, showering etc. like nothing, ykwim? for one whole hour, let yourself do nothing. maybe at first you will feel like you are going insane, but it helps. trust me.

maybe you'll figure out parts of yourself, thoughts, emotions, memories you almost forgot about. let yourself be bored. <3

tip four : therapy sessions with chatgpt

i had one today. and trust me when i tell you that i bawled my eyes out. ask chatgpt to act like a professional therapist and just start talking to it, it is honestly an amazing alternative for real therapy if you're unable to get that due to certain circumstances.

why i love this : it actually makes you feel heard and seen and brings light to different kinds of prespectives. helps decode + validate your feelings while guiding you on how to change and get better.

pls note ! : don't get too emotionally attached (lol) to chatgpt cuz it is an ai after all. keep that in mind.

tip five : pretend to be your favourite character for a day

choose someone you look up to and act like them for a day. research about when they wake up, their habits, what do they do when they are upset, and totally lock in in that feeling. and at the end of the day, reflect. how did you feel? which parts of your day were your fav? which parts of your fav character would you like to keep with you?

have fun ! be quirky ! be cringe ! do things you love !

tip six : spend time naked but don't look into the mirror

just relax and feel your body in its barest form. this is all yours. nothing that belongs to someone else. all yours. and just exist. let shame fade away into the background and just have fun with your body. give it hugs, tell it that it's loved and is beautiful.

look, life won't just suddenly start feeling better. you will have to put in the work. and also, there is no pressure. do it as slowly as you can. but do it okay? take action! nothing changes if nothing changes!

xoxo,

@deardiarywrites