#i don’t think making art and reading is a waste of time

[malikat24601]

Errrbody out there with their cool title art and brilliant ideas for the BB... and then there's me <insert hehehe raccoon gif here> Presenting Team 043 with @ghostdeb bringing you: Glory Days A Steddie Alpha/Baseball/Omega fic for the Steddie Big Bang 24! Excerpt: The sun was high in the sky, blindingly bright, and Eddie shielded his eyes as he wandered through the stands, looking for his seat. Nancy’s expectations of him rang loud and clear in the excellent spot she had reserved for him, field level near the dugout, overlooking home plate. Money wasted, he thought saltily to himself, since he wouldn’t be able to see anything past the fucking glare. 

There was a gift bag waiting for him, a welcome package from the team — a bottle of water, a box of honest-to-god Cracker Jack, a little baseball bat keychain with Harrington’s jersey number on it, and a cap with the team logo embroidered across the center in bright reds and golds — the Indiana Mindflayers. Eddie pouted to himself, hemmed and hawed until finally, with a loud groan, he pulled the cap on over his frizzy curls and… damn. Even he had to admit that it brought instant relief to his eyes, shading them and bringing the field into perfect clarity. He sniffed, the smell of the turf bright and green in his nose. I’ll have to start doubling up on the Claritin, he thought, determined not to enjoy it one bit. 

Eddie pulled out his notepad and shuffled through his notes. Steve Harrington was the second baseman; smart, fast, with good reflexes and running speed. By all accounts, he was the favorite to break the base-stealing record last set in 1982, garnering respect for the up-and-coming new team. He was a powerful hitter, an even better baseman, a fan favorite, and, as far as Eddie could tell, a squeaky-clean, all-American golden boy. 

And while Eddie had done the requisite reading on the sport, more of his time had been spent delving into the lore that had built up around the man. The only son of a notorious business mogul, Steve Harrington had led a charmed life. Trust fund baby, sports phenom, the pinnacle of what a good son and alpha should be — right up until he had defied expectations and joined an unknown, fledgling team and been cut off by his family. 

Lucky for him, Steve was handsome, charming, and known almost as well for his prowess off the field as he was on it. He was never seen with the same woman more than twice, never tied down, never mated. Rumors swirled that he had almost been married once, but had his heart broken by some mysterious figure, the identity of whom he protected at all costs. Other than that, it would appear that all there was to know about Steve Harrington was how he played that day and who the new celebrity on his arm was that week. How boring, Eddie couldn’t think of anything worse.

Still, he was a reporter, and there was a lot of buzz around the guy. If there was a story there, he would find it, and then he would go back to Indy and beg on hands and knees for his old job back.

Eddie sat through the first half of the inning before the Mindflayers were up to bat. He waited with as much enthusiasm as he could muster to get his eyes on the man himself. Finally, the familiar sound of Andre 3000 started up, Harrington’s song of choice to play him in, as he jogged out onto the batting mound. 

Don’t want to meet your daddy, just want you in my caddy Don’t want to meet your momma, just want to make you come-a

Eddie rolled his eyes. A little on the nose, he thought, we get it, you’re a playboy who knots ‘em and walks ‘em. And I heard you were actually smooth…

Steve Harrington came up to bat with the bases loaded. It wouldn’t have been hard for anyone to look impressive after the lackluster performance of Tommy Hagan before him, but Steve sauntered out to home plate swinging his bat with the kind of easy confidence that made you just know he was about to do something special. His very first swing connected with the ball with a satisfying crack, sending it sailing deep into the stands.

Steve tossed his bat and ran, a home run. The crowd roared, jumping to their feet; the energy was infectious, and look, Eddie had eyes, he wasn’t immune to those tight little pants, or the sight of dirt on his knees as Steve pulled himself up with a bright, crooked grin and a little wave. The man was hot, he could admit it.

A faint scent of something wafted up from the field, spicy sweet and undeniable, calling to him so strongly that Eddie felt lightheaded. But almost as soon as he had locked onto it, it was gone; the wind changed and with it came the smell of incoming rain. He sank back in his seat, a little worse for wear, looking dubiously up at the sky and the gray clouds rolling in. A shiver ran through him and Eddie was forced to buy a hoodie to go with his new cap as light sprinkles fell over the stadium. He charged that shit on the company card.

The game played on, dauntless of the rain, and Eddie was cold, wet, way too sober, and bored. He tried to get into it, but catching the Cracker Jack he was tossing into the air with his mouth was just so much more interesting. 

After an eternity, finally they were in the last inning, and just as he was silently thanking the gods of sportsball that he’d soon be released from his purgatory, a palpable energy began to grow all around him. People were sitting up, watching a little closer. Eddie sat up, too, unceremoniously dropping the Cracker Jack to the ground.

The field was still wet from the earlier rain, grass glistening under the lights that had come up as the sun went down. It was the bottom of the 9th, the Mindflayers were down by one, and Steve was up to bat again. 

The first pitch was thrown wildly out of the strike zone, a ball. Steve let slip a flash of annoyance, which made Eddie smile to himself. Careful, big boy, that halo is slipping. On his second swing, he hit a double and made it to second base.

Then, before the next batter for the Mindflayers could take his place, the opposing team made a switch, bringing Jason Carver onto the field, their notoriously lethal left-handed pitcher. Steve seemed keenly interested in the goings on, so much so that Eddie found himself watching him more so than the player at bat. 

“Only one out left,” muttered the man sitting behind Eddie, so he wrote it down in his notepad. He could look up the exact rules of the game again later, after he had dried off, warmed up, and eaten something other than stale, too-sweet popcorn.

Lucas Sinclair stepped up to the plate, and while he and Carver sized each other up, Steve took the opportunity to run, racing to steal third base. The crowd cheered and Carver cursed, shouting something and… did Steve wink at him? Carver cursed again, but it didn’t matter, Steve was already safe. Sinclair was laughing; if he could get a good play, Steve would have a chance to run for home, tying the game. Carver spit and turned back to the plate, winding up. 

Sinclair was ready, but Carver’s signature fastball got past him. Eddie’s eyes were still on Harrington, who looked tense and twitchy as he and Sinclair made eye contact across the diamond. Carver smirked; another deadly pitch, another strike. Behind Carver’s shoulder, Steve had crouched low, watching things play out intently. The final swing connected, ball sent flying deep into the outfield and Steve ran. The crowd was on their feet, screaming as Steve slid home, his hat coming off and hair flying. He’d tied the game, standing up with a grin, clay caked down the front of his uniform as he shouted at Sinclair to run. The opposing team’s outfield threw the ball, but it went wide, missing their baseman. Sinclair kept running, past third, and when he touched home, he leapt onto Steve, the two of them laughing and shouting, because they’d done it. The Mindflayers had won by a single point in the final inning of the game.

Eddie found himself standing, too, his hands in the air and his jaw on the floor. He was absolutely helpless to the energy of the crowd. The team poured out onto the field, hoisting Steve and Lucas up onto their shoulders, and Steve threw his head back and laughed. Eddie laughed with him, couldn’t help it, overwhelmed by the magic of the moment. Somewhere on the breeze, he caught the smallest taste of that scent again, hot baked bread and spices, warmth and comfort, and then it was gone. When he looked back out to the field, Steve had disappeared into the dugout. That was Eddie’s cue to make his way down.

He wedged himself into the throng of reporters at the press conference, all trying to get the attention of Steve Harrington, who was clearly preoccupied with teasing his coach, renowned humorless hardass Jim Hopper, while managing to answer a slew of questions seemingly on autopilot without looking up once. “It’s all about teamwork, no one player wins the game,” rolled off his tongue, and then, “everything I learned, I learned from this man here,” as Hopper snorted gruffly. Eddie pushed through to the front and raised his voice. 

“That was a pretty neat trick you pulled there, but couldn’t you have done it sooner in the game so we could have had a bit more action in the middle bit? Or do they just trot you out at the very end to make it seem more interesting?”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the small space, save for a few awkward coughs as Harrington turned to stare directly at Eddie, his dark eyes narrowing. 

“Never seen this scrawny little guy before,” he quipped, leaning back lazily as though Eddie had bored him. “And who are you?” 

“Eddie Munson, with The P—”

“The Pace. I know you. You’re Wheeler’s new boy. Of course you are.” Steve said it like it left a bad taste in his mouth and Eddie gritted his teeth.

“If you could just answer the ques—”

“The reason, Mr. Munson,” Steve interrupted him again, “is that there’s more to the game than just hitting balls and running. Stealing bases requires thought, and it requires the right set of circumstances to pull it off. As soon as I realized they were bringing Carver out onto the field, I knew that I’d have a chance to take third, because as a left-handed pitcher, he’d have his back to me. It’s called game strategy. You may think I’m just a dumb jock, but I do actually have a brain. Next question.”

Eddie was dismissed, clearly. He frowned, staring down at his notepad. Strategy? You didn’t get to be the scariest dungeon master in Indy without knowing game strategy. Eddie twitched with annoyance.

He sulked through the rest of the questions, saying nothing, before making his way down to the locker rooms with the select few VIP reporters allowed in for the meet-n-greet. Eddie milled about, feeling every bit as uncomfortable as he had in high school gym, sweaty ball players shoving past him with towels thrown over their shoulders. Someone knocked into him from behind, and Eddie jumped aside, immediately apologizing.

It was Harrington, of course it was. Up close, Eddie could see that his brown eyes were more a warm hazel flecked with gold, downturned and sleepy-looking, but beautifully expressive. His lips were bowed and pink, far lovelier than a testosterone-ridden alpha male should possess, and cheeks kissed with tiny moles. He froze in place, apology dropping off, entirely unprepared for the reality of Steve. 

The man smirked at him, clearly amused. Steve reached forward and pinched the fabric of Eddie’s Mindflayers hoodie, rubbing it between his fingers. Then he ran his thumb along the bill of Eddie’s cap, almost teasingly. “Love the ‘fit,” he purred, in a wry, gravelly voice, and Eddie shivered. 

Steve was standing so close, sneering down at the gaping idiot that Eddie had become, and for a second he thought he caught that scent again, rising dough, nutmeg. His attention snapped elsewhere as he subconsciously lifted his nose to the air and sniffed. An omega was near, their scent curious and seeking, interested, sending a pulse of want all through him. Steve’s eyes shuttered off, and he looked uncomfortable, taking a step back and rubbing at his neck. Then, with an awkward smile that held none of the fire it possessed earlier, Steve whispered, “see ya around, Munson,” as he turned tail towards the showers, leaving Eddie staring after him. 

[celestefem]

“you wasted your days off reading and making art!!”

“……..”

[gigabyte-flare]

Insatiable (Part 2)

Part 1

Summary: Your collages should have listened to you.

Word Count: 2k

Pairing: yandere plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Extreme violence and gore, biting, dubcon, forced breeding, gross las plagas-y things, death, mentions of un-aliving. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

A/N: Huge shout out to @chanif-art who's artwork continues to inspire me and this story. I am completely blown away with how well part 1 was received. Thank you to everyone who's liked, reblogged, commented and even simply read it. I didn't do a tag list for this one because I think well over 50 people asked and I completely lost track. Anyway, I hope this meets your expectations! I was listening to Little Girl Gone while writing this... for some reason it just fits plagas!Leon.

“Honey, I’ve changed so much since I last saw ya.”

You open your eyes, finding yourself inside Leon’s cell. You dart your head around, looking frantically when you realize you’re chained to the chair, the same chair Leon had previously been chained to. You hear Leon chuckle, a low chilling sound as he walks up from behind you, taking long, slow strides. He turns to face you, you notice the black veins sprawling his body have gotten darker, his eyes more red. He grins as he kneels down to be at eye level with you, his four canine teeth noticeably sharp. He runs his tongue along his teeth.

“There you are, sweetheart. I didn’t think you’d wake up,” Leon says with a purr. 

Your eyes are wide, taking labored deep breaths before you attempt to struggle. Leon laughs, shaking his head.

“That won’t do you any good I’m afraid, but don’t worry, I’ll get you out of those chains so we can have some play time.”

Leon stands back up, walking back behind you. You hear him break the chains apart with his bare hands. You waste no time bolting out of the chair and to the door. No matter how much you pull, the door won’t budge. You turn around to find Leon standing directly behind you. He grabs you by the waist pulling you to him. You flail your arms at him, trying to fight him off. Out of the corner of your eye you see Bryan on the other side of the clear panel holding a clipboard, taking notes.

“Bryan?! Get me out of here! I’m trapped in here with him, please! He’s going to hurt me!”

Bryan lifts his head, shaking it, “the data you’ll provide from this is too valuable to pass up I’m afraid. We need to know if he’s capable of procreating with a un-infected human and what the offspring will look like.”

“WHAT?!” you scream, “Bryan have you lost your mind?!”

Completely ignoring your pleas, Bryan continues, “remember what we agreed on, Leon. You are not to infect her with the plaga until she gives birth. After that, you can do with her as you please.”

“I remember the agreement, you fucking prick,” Leon growls next to your ear before he licks your earlobe. 

“NO I DID NOT AGREE TO THIS BRYAN, YOU LET ME OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW!” you continue to scream as you try to fight Leon off.

Leon, however, is much more powerful than you; he bites into your shoulder and makes short work of pinning you to the floor, his hands gripping your jeans and ripping them off you, leaving you with your pair of lace panties. You attempt to crawl across the floor towards Bryan, but Leon drags you back by your hips. Leon flips you over to face him, caging you with his body. He simply stares down at you, his smile wide. You watch as drool drips from his face onto your shirt, which he promptly rips apart to reveal your matching bra to him.

“Aren’t you just delicious to look at?” Leon says, licking his lips before locking his lips onto yours in a hungry kiss. 

To your horror, you’re returning his kiss, his hands grasping to both of your breasts. He pulls away after a couple minutes, sitting on his haunches as he pushes your legs apart, noting the dark spot that is now on your panties.

“Oh? You don’t want this? Then tell me why you’re so fucking wet, sweetheart?”

Leaning forward, he grabs your panties with his teeth, dragging them off you before tossing them aside. He then begins undoing the belt on his pants; before long he is pulling his hardening cock from his pants. He wastes no time climbing back on top of you, pushing himself inside you balls deep with ease. 

When the head of his cock kisses your cervix, your eyes roll into the back of your head as you let out a soft moan. Leon growls, thrusting into you with an insatiable ferocity, causing you to grip his arms, scratching into them with your nails. You felt like he was fucking you for an eternity when he let’s out another growl, pressing into you as deep as he could possibly go. You feel your cunt clamp around his cock, milking his cum into your body.

Leon stares back down at you, his eyes and grin wide as he laughs maniacally.

You wake up screaming, covered in sweat and tears streaming down your face. You take deep breaths, laying your hand on your chest to ground yourself.

It was just a nightmare.

Once you get yourself calm, you climb out of bed and go into the kitchen of your apartment, making yourself coffee and some toast for breakfast. Afterwards, you get ready for work and head out the door. On your way, you decide to stop at the pharmacy. Walking the aisles, you find the feminine hygiene products, grabbing an ovulation test off the shelf and paying for it. Once you get to HQ, you trap yourself into one of the bathroom stalls, taking the test and waiting for the results. You watch in horror as a little smiley face shows up on the little screen, confirming your hypothesis.

You collect yourself before briskly walking into Bryan’s office. You don’t knock, you simply push the door open aggressively, startling both Bryan and the researcher he’s meeting with, you think his name is Pierce.

“I am not going back down there, Bryan,” you say sternly. 

Pierce shifts uncomfortably in his seat before standing up to leave, “I’ll go check on the camera feed downstairs.”

You and Bryan stare at each other as the door swings shut. Bryan rubs his eyes.

“Not this again, I’m sorry but I need you to go down there, you’re still the only one Leon talks to. Is this about what happened yesterday? I assure you, we have taken extra precautions to ensure that doesn’t happen again.”

You stomp up to Bryan’s desk, slamming the positive ovulation test onto the desk. Bryan looks down at the test before looking at you and raising an eyebrow.

“The fuck is this?” he asks.

“I’m ovulating, this is why Leon keeps saying I smell good and wants to practically throw himself on me whenever I’m down there.”

“That’s absurd.”

“Can you think of a logical explanation, then? I’m all ears.”

“This is not up for debate, you are going to continue working with Leon; that’s an order!”

Suddenly, the lights go dim before red emergency lights come on followed by a loud, screeching alarm.

“What the hell?!” Bryan exclaims, looking around confused.

You’ve never heard this alarm during your entire time at D.S.O., you rack your brain around what it could mean when suddenly, Pierce bursts into the office.

“Pierce! What the hell is going on out there?!” Bryan asks.

“Kennedy’s escaped, sir!”

Leon opens his eyes and lifts his head, looking around his cell. Deep down he was seething in rage; he had gotten so close to getting out of this chair and having his way with you. Now, his chair had reinforced steel plating welded to it and they strapped a god damn muzzle onto his face. He could see he now had two men with guns guarding the door at all times. 

Fucking beautiful.

He tested the chains again, but found they had been tightened recently, angering him even more. He couldn’t stop thinking about you and hoped he would see you today. He hated the thought of you seeing him like this, but he desperately wanted to see you and inhale your sweet, sweet scent.

Out of nowhere, an excruciating pain jolts down Leon’s spine, causing him to cry out and writhe in his chair. His four canine teeth grow sharper, his fingers turning black and now taking on a claw-like appearance and a new, sharp appendage was peaking out of his lower back. The guards turned around to look at Leon. They immediately unlock the door and come into this cell to check on him. Leon stops writhing, slumping over in his chair, pretending to be passed out. One guard stays by the door, facing away from them while the other comes over to check on Leon, checking the chains to make sure they’re in place.

Unbeknownst to the guard closest to Leon, Leon’s new tail was extending from his back, coming around from behind the guard. It was very similar to a scorpion’s tail, but instead of a barb on the end, it looked like a blade. Within an instant, Leon’s tail wraps around the guard’s neck, snapping it instantly as four claw-like appendages burst from Leon’s back, breaking the chains holding his arms in place. Hearing the other guard fall to the floor the other guard turns around only to be faced with Leon, who is now up out of his chair and walking towards him, ripping the muzzle off his face, flashing a maniacal grin at the guard. The guard goes to shoot Leon but Leon is much faster, his tail whipping forward and impaling the man in the chest before flinging him aside. 

Leon strides out of his cell, looking down the hallway to see a pair of researchers coming down the hallway. Upon seeing Leon out of his cell, they start shouting at each other and turn to run in the opposite direction. Leon smiles, breaking into a sprint. He leaps, pinning one researcher to the ground with his body while his tail grabs the other by the waist, lifting him into the air.

“Where is she?!” Leon asks with a growl to the researcher he has pinned to the floor.

“Where’s who?!” the researcher stutters.

“Don’t play dumb with me! Where is she?!”

“Up-Upstairs! In Br-Bryan’s office!”

Leon’s mouth clamps down onto the researcher's neck, ripping out his throat as his tail squeezes the other until his spine snaps, falling to the floor as Leon lets him go. At that moment, all the lights dim before red emergency lights come on. Leon breaks back into a sprint to the elevator however, it was not working no matter how many buttons he pushed. He uses his tale to rip a hole into the ceiling, leaping up into it and climbing the elevator shaft. 

Once he reaches the top, he pries the elevator door open, swinging down, landing gracefully in the hallway. People are scrambling to get away from him, bumping and tripping over each other to run down the hallway. Leon’s red eyes scan the area, however, he sees no sign of you. More guards with guns show up, firing at him. His tale whips forward, deflecting their bullets with ease as he lunges forward. He impales one operative with his tail while his hand thrusts through the chest of another, gripping the man’s still beating heart in his claws before crushing it.

“Take her and get out of here!” he hears a man yell from down the hallway.

Leon’s attention is immediately drawn to the man that yelled, immediately recognizing him as Bryan. At one time, he liked the man, a brilliant scientist. Too bad he has to die. Leon watches as Bryan pulls out a pistol, firing shots at him. Again. Leon’s tail and back claws deflect the shots as he stands face to face with Bryan, his tail whipping around and decapitating the man with ease. He brings his tail’s blade to his lips, licking off the blood as he proceeds to walk down the hallway towards the entrance of HQ. 

A researcher is leading you out the front door, shoving you through the door with his back turned to Leon. He’s about to head out himself before Leon’s tail goes straight through his chest. Leon hears the man’s death gurgles as he flings him behind him, his body falling about 20 feet away with a loud thud. 

And there you are, cowering in the entry vestibule, your eyes locked on him, looking up and down his body. Leon straightens out his posture in hopes of making himself alluring to you, his tail whipping back and forth while his back claws flex. 

“Do you actually think you can escape me?” Leon coos, watching as you press your back as hard as you can into the glass doors as he comes closer.

“You never will, my love.” he continues with a grin, licking his sharp canines.

You stumble out of the door, bolting into the street and running as fast as you can to your car.

“I will find you.”

Part 3

[angelsinluv]

angel’s fulfillment challenge

welcome to the unofficial official challenge of angel’s vault ☆

i’m going to say this now, this isn’t going to be some crazy, different thing. this is literally how the law works lol but i say challenge because it's for those who see them as fun, want to be disciplined and set the tone for the new year! (or whenever you’re reading this)

𝐈. the point of this challenge is to…

fall in love with imagination

enjoy fulfilling yourself

get your desires duh

stop over consuming and apply no matter if you think you need to know more.

𝐈𝐈. important guidelines!

read this post to get a gist of states because this is what this challenge is about. fulfilling yourself in imagination. you don’t need to read it every time to know you’re doing it right, this challenge will do it all for you.

affirmations and visualizations are techniques so what is your way of thinking that feels comfortable to you? sometimes you don’t even need it. for me, i mostly need to feel that i already have it. have fun, experiment with daydreams/scenes, affirming and/or feeling. it doesn't have to be the same every single time.

𝐈𝐈𝐈. steps

choose what you want. go crazy. do not condition your desires. you are limitless. if you can see it in your mind, you can have it. famous? nepo baby? money? db, df? better self concept? gender revision? time change?

decide right now you are the person who already has what the want. so guess what? there is nothing to get because you already have your desire. manifesting money? you already have it. manifesting an sp? you already have them. manifesting your dream life? you already have it. that is your state.

fulfill yourself every chance you get in the day. no you don’t have to lock yourself in the room to affirm/visualize/feel all day. no you don’t have to be in the state all day, you are always passing through states but remember, the state you constantly make your dwelling place MANIFESTS. so make an effort to return to it as much as you can and want to.

ideas: do it in the morning when you wake up, in the afternoon, whenever you have free time like on your bed, going home, walking, during class and before you go to sleep.

bonus: do this meditation by edward art daily, it's not mandatory. it's not like all the other meditations, give it a shot. get off tumblr, stop over consuming

make it fun, it’s not a chore! have fun daydreaming/visualizing you shopping with all the money you got, getting compliments from people on how they’re so amazed at how successful you are, have fun complimenting yourself in the mirror while you repeat affirmations, have fun looking around and going “yeah, i literally have ____” sounds nice and fun? because it is. manifesting is simple.

4. get your desires. there is no deadline. i hate that shit 😭 srrynotsrry, that would be contradicting the law and this challenge. you already have it, you’re not getting anything on a time crunch. not no 3 days, not a week, not two, not a month. THERE IS NOTHING TO GET WHEN YOU HAVE IT NOW. ONLY NOW.

challenge summary:

YOU ALREADY HAVE IT!

𝐈. why should you fulfill yourself?

because when you fulfill yourself in imagination, you are changing self. and what is a reflection of self? the 3D.

it’s not your job to make things physical. your job is to change your mind.

focus on yourself. there is nothing to change or to get in the 3D because it’s nothing but a mirror that shows/proves you right in what state you identify and dwell in.

“Stop trying to change the world since it is only the mirror. Man’s attempt to change the world by force is as fruitless as breaking a mirror in the hope of changing his face. Leave the mirror and change your face. Leave the world alone and change your conceptions of yourself. The reflection then will be satisfactory.”

“I AM wealthy, poor, healthy, sick, free, confined were first of all impressions or conditions felt before they became visible expressions. Your world is your consciousness objectified. Waste no time trying to change the outside; change the within or the impression; and the without or expression will take care of itself. When the truth of this statement dawns upon you, you will know that you have found the lost word or the key to every door. I AM (your consciousness) is the magical lost word which was made flesh in the likeness of that which you are conscious of being.”

𝐈𝐈. additional tips

doubting? let it pass. don't give it power. why are you doubtful if it's going to come or if the law works when you have what you want right now? if you're dwelling in doubts then you're not being the person who has it.

worried about when it's going to come? that doesn't make sense because you literally have it right now lol

want to ask a question? why? you literally have it. what's there to ask? try asking yourself first.

simple.

have fun, angels. remember that YOU ALREADY HAVE IT. send me your successes in the inbox!

signed, angel ☆

[helsensm]

Can’t remember what was the premise for this and I’m too lazy to make a decent comic out of it, so just have this poorly digitalized railao doodle I found in my sketchbook, y’all can add any context you want~

I posted some Kung Lao and mk1 Kung Jin headcanons earlier, so now I think I’ll drop railao thoughts too. Nothing too crazy - I prefer to read/hear about other’s hc more than to think about them myself afgHjHh

- Raiden fell first, but Kung Lao fell harder.

- Lao did confess first tho. After the mk1 events and some chill time together they both realized that they can't stand being separated and stressed about the other’s safety.

- They used to have these red-string “lucky bracelets” when they were kids but stopped wearing them in middle school (prob lost them or because it wasn’t “cool” anymore hah). Later, after mk1 when they officially started dating, they got a pair of matching ones, as a substitute for the wedding rings. 😊 (now go find all of them on my railao art 👀)

- Right now (mk1 and right after) Raiden’s hair is longer than Lao’s, but Lao is growing his hair out so in the future he’ll be rocking that one long-ass braid we all love. 🥰 Also he has no idea how to style hair besides the ponytail and a simple braid, so sometimes Raiden will do his hair for him as soon as it grows long enough.

- Since childhood Raiden collects cool rocks he found around the village and sometimes he gives them to Lao. I suspect that Raiden is a penguin.

- When Lao noticed that the flower petals have a strange tendency to follow him everywhere, he began collecting them and leaving in various places, including Raiden’s home and school desk. After they got together, the petals would follow Raiden on their own volition every time the two are separated. 🌸

- Lao began to pierce his ears right after the school graduation and Raiden thinks he looks cool, but he did only one piercing per ear for himself much later. Although I'm starting to dig Novice’s idea that he can’t wear them because of his lightning powers. 🤔

- Raiden calls Kung Lao just “Lao” or “my Lao” (but not in a “professional setting”, like on missions or in front of people who are not considered their friends). Kung Lao loves giving Raiden cheesy nicknames.

- Lao is so passionate in his affection, he’s borderline aggressive, he kisses and hugs like it’s their last time. Raiden is more sensual and a fan of prolonged physical touch, like holding hands for the whole day.

- Kung Lao is a professional shit talker and yapper, Raiden just nods and listens. He remembers everything tho, even if it’s something ridiculous that Lao himself will forget after five minutes.

- Lao actually can cook at a reasonable level. I also think he’s very creative and resourceful and can make a decent meal from a limited number of ingredients.

- A relatively new follow-up hc inspired by this tt and personal experience discussion with D3rpy: Kung Lao eats like a vacuum cleaner and can’t stand people wasting food because when he was a kid his family had a rough few years when they could barely afford enough food. And although things have changed for the better, it’s a habit now, he’s like a stray animal - you can’t waste food when you don’t know when you’ll eat next. Also this is when he got closer to Raiden’s family, hanging out in his house more often.

[kingofbodyrolls]

Seokjin fic recs 2023

In honor of Seokjin’s birthday, I want to share my favorite fanfictions that I’ve read this year. Although I did not read as many as I wanted to, the list will be short. But! I’ve leave my ‘to read’ list at the bottom to make up for it 💜I want to thank each and every writer on this list for creating such wonderful stories and art - you are truly amazing ✨ All the fics on this list hold a dear place in my heart 🥹

❗Most of these fics are smutty as hell or contains dark themes, so minors dni.❗ 

If you read anything on this list and you like it, please leave a comment to the writer or reblog the original fic’s post 💜And if you want more fic recs you can follow me to stay updated 🙂

BTS fic rec index → May | Jun | Jul | Aug | Sep (jjk)(knj) | Oct (pjm) | Nov (*) | Dec (💜)(kth) |

Emoji meaning → angst = 🌩️, smut = 🥵, fluff = 🥰, comedy = 😂, yandere = 😈, thriller/dark = 👻. 

⭐Knocked by @sailoryooons [10.6K] // ksj x f.reader // roommates to lovers // 🥵😂

📝 Living with people is difficult, but all things considered, your new roommate isn’t terrible. He cooks, he cleans, and if you had to be honest - incredibly attractive. But his habit of streaming until the early hours of the morning while yelling and making other questionable noises has pushed you to the limit. You’ve finally decided to risk your sanity and put it all on the line with a reckless bet in hopes of getting some peace and quiet at night.

🗨️ This was so hilarious, and the build up and pay-off was really good 👏

⭐Sleepover by @peachypinkygloss [7.3K] // ksj x f.reader x pjm // bestfriends!au, threesome // 🥵

📝 You spend a night with your two best friends at their dorm room. You should have known that they wanted to do more than just watching movies.

🗨️ Omg this was so good, the smut 😘🥵

⭐I Don’t Think I’m Okay by @ressjeon [4K] // ksj x f.reader // slice of life, idiots to lovers!au, childhood friends!au // 🥵🥰🌩️

📝 With many chances wasted, you couldn’t even resist anymore.

🗨️ A cute little Seokjin fic 🥰

⭐The IKEA Test by @yoon-bug [9.1K] // ksj x f.reader // established relationship // 🥵🥰😂

📝 One review on IKEA’s website called the BRIMNES bed frame the leading cause of divorce due to its difficult assembly. You and Seokjin had laughed when you read it. Now, you weren’t so sure.

🗨️ Their banter and all the sexual innuendos are damn hilarious! I thoroughly enjoyed this very much 💜 

I’m really sad that I didn’t get to read more Seokjin fics 😭 I have a lot on my ‘to read’ list, so I’ll share some that I’m really excited to read when i have more time (and I know they’ll be great because they are written by amazing people!) ✨

‘To read’ list ⬇️

Fast Lane by @yminie [20.6K]

Cherry Topper by @kth1 [17.6K]

Final Sleigh by @floralseokjin [23.3K]

Stuck with you by @taleasnewastime [29.6K]

Small Tuna Fish by @floralseokjin [17.1K]

Off Limits by @floralseokjin [series; completed]

Raspberry truffles by @gukyi [5K]

Christmas Warfare by @gimmethatagustd [14.5K]

9 Months to Fall in Love by @floralseokjin [series; completed]

Redamancy by @jeonggukingdom [7.1K]

Sunday by @here2bbtstrash [5K]

Serve Me by @chateautae [16K]

Meet Me at the Bar by @eoieopda [7.5K]

Internal Conflicts by @yoongiofmine [series; completed]

Forever by @oddinary4bts [25.2K]

Thank you, Daddy by @ktheist [19K]

The Devil Wears Armani by @floralseokjin [series; completed]

Glazed & Dazed by @floralseokjin [30.3K]

Wet & Wild by @jamaisjoons [10K]

Warm this Winter by @jamaisjoons [51.6K]

Peach Parfait by @jamaisjoons [series; completed]

Borderlines by @jamaisjoons [series; ongoing]

All I Don’t Want for Christmas is You! by @minisugakoobies [23.7K]

Cupid’s on Holiday by @persphonesorchid [17K]

Don’t Go Baking my Heart by @candlewaxandp0lar0ids [14.7K]

Platonic by @joheunsaram [series; completed??]

Last November by @kithtaehyung [24.7K]

Sit. Stay. by @daechwitatamic [14K]

Turn Back Time by @raplinesmoon [13.3K]

Made-up Love Song by @floralseokjin [series; completed]

Lost and Found by @taleasnewastime [21.2K]

I’m so sorry that I didn’t get to read more! 😭 Life happened, and yeah. But all of these wonderful fics on my list sound so incredibly good and I really look forward to reading them and give them a lovely review 💜

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SEOKJIN!!! 💜 🥳 🎂

[annes-andromeda]

Wish Rewrite

I have this tendency for rewriting material I either don’t like or think had wasted potential. At the time of writing this, Wish hasn’t come out in theaters but I did pirate it as there was an early screening. I also read the junior novelization and bought the concept art book. Needless to say, I was disappointed by what I read/saw.

I feel like Wish could’ve been better. Granted, the story and characters are not terrible, but they certainly leave much to be desired. This is literally Disney’s 100th anniversary, yet it doesn’t really feel like it. Not only that, but the movie felt incredibly rushed. Yeah I know that most Disney movies try have a run time of 90-100+ minutes, but I think a few more minutes could’ve been added to this film.

So, I decided to indulge myself and outline some changes that I think could’ve made the story slightly better. These ideas are by no means perfect, and in the end, this is all in good fun.

Spoilers ahead btw

The main story of Wish is essentially that Asha wants to get a job as Magnifico’s apprentice so that her grandfather’s wish is granted. But Asha finds out about the King’s true nature, and after questioning him, doesn’t get the job, and Magnifico vows to never grant Sabino or Sakina’s wishes.

Asha makes a wish on a star, and the star comes down, Magnifico tries to hunt down the two of them, he uses an evil spell book to create a staff, Magnifico destroys some wishes, Asha gets help from her friends, they sing a song to defeat Magnifico (I ‘wish’ i was joking), Star gives Asha a magic wand, and all is well.

Oh, and Amaya is… there.

It’s nothing complex, pretty cut and dry. And I don’t have a problem with a simple story! But this feels like it’s… missing something.

Firstly, I’d change the title. Disney already has a boat called Wish, and not every movie needs to be one word like Tangled, Frozen, and Brave (amongst others), so the story could be renamed “Asha and the Wishing Star” or “Asha and the Kingdom of Wishes”. Idk, something that evokes a classic fairytale book feel (or that does confuse people with a boat).

((Side note #1: I honestly enjoy that the story started off with a book, as a nod to classic disney movies, especially Snow White. That was cute))

Secondly, and I know I sound like a broken record at this point…

AMAYA👏🏼SHOULDVE👏🏼BEEN👏🏼A👏🏼VILLAIN👏🏼ALONGSIDE👏🏼HER👏🏼HUSBAND👏🏼

The original plan, according to the concept art book, was to have Magnifico and Amaya to be a villain couple who were partners in crime and owned a black sphinx cat named Charo. However for… reasons, the creators took the ‘safe’ route and made Amaya the good one out of the two.

But the problem is, by erasing Amaya’s evilness, the creators of Wish essentially removed any purpose or personality she may have had and thus, she was left to become a literal ‘supporting’ character. First supporting both Magnifico and Asha, then leaving Magnifico to prop up solely Asha.

Deadass, you can literally remove Amaya from the story and nothing would change. Which is probably why she was exempt from much of the promotional stuff minus the dolls. Because she literally serves no purpose but to be… there.

So, in my version of Wish, Amaya would be a co-conspirator to her husband and yes, I’m adding Charo too. Her personality would be inspired by classic female villains such as the Evil Queen from Snow White, Lady Tremaine from Cinderella, and Maleficent from Sleeping Beauty.

Vain, glamorous, cunning, and unabashedly evil, Amaya would be the Morticia to Magnifico’s Gomez, the brains to his brawn. She’s the girlboss, he’s the wife instigator. Magnifico spoils Amaya rotten with countless gifts and praises, whilst Amaya is the more calm and collected evil compared to her husband’s ever-growing temper.

While she starts the story with no magic, Magnifico just can’t leave his wife hanging and shares the power of the evil spell-book with Amaya. And yes, even Charo gets in on the fun, turning from a small house cat, to a massive shape-shifting beast who breaths blue fire similarly to a dragon (shut up i think it’d be cool)

Magnifico and Amaya essentially keep the wishes of Rosas locked in the castle as a form of obedience. By giving the citizens false hope, it makes them more dependent on the royal couple, and the two have more power over everyone.

Anyways, let’s get to the main characters: Asha and Star.

I don’t have much of an issue with Asha’s character, more so her design. I already made a post showing my redesign of her, so that’s out of the way. Tbh tho, I also have an issue with the rest of the costume design of Wish, being a big costume nerd myself. The movie’s supposed to take inspiration from the Mediterranean, primarily places such as Spain and Morocco (and the Amazigh people for Asha), but the fashion feels like generic European medieval fashion.

I feel like the whole storyline of Asha’s interview with Magnifico was pretty pointless, so I would have it that she just starts off as the kings apprentice, whilst also working as Amaya’s scullery maid.

The couple took Asha in when the girl lost her father at the age of 12 (according to the film), and she’s been working for them for five years. Asha works not only to support herself, her family, and her community, but also as a way to distract from the grief of losing her father. Which is no issue, as Amaya always bombards the girl with chores, and Magnifico only teaches Asha the most basic of magic for fear of her growing more powerful than him.

I made Asha work as a scullery maid not only as a reference to princesses such as Snow White and Cinderella starting off their respective stories as maids, but also because scullery maids acted as assistants to the kitchen maids. Dahlia works in the kitchen, Asha and Dahlia are best friends, I figured it made sense.

But anyways, on the day of Sabino’s 100th birthday, Sakina tells Asha to take a break and return home, as she hardly visits anymore due to work. Asha says she’ll try asking the king and queen to get off early, but that she can’t make any promises.

Asha meets with Magnifico and asks for the day off, but the king refuses. However, wanting to keep her loyalty, Magnifico finally shows Asha the wish chamber, and even allows her to witness the wish ceremony that night. But once Asha starts questioning the king on his methods, any goodwill between them begins to fade.

Another thing I’m disappointed in, is that originally Star was going to be a shapeshifting humanoid inspired by the Genie and Peter Pan, and may have even had a romance with Asha. But, the idea was scrapped for the more cutesy, ‘marketable’, version of Star.

In my retelling, I’d choose to do this human shapeshifter version of Star, but I’d name him something else. The star Earendel was mentioned in the concept art book, which is the farthest known star from Earth and not only means ‘morning star’ in Old English, but is also named after the Tolkien character, Eärendil.

I would call this shapeshifter Star Earen, and because Disney loves their animal/cute sidekicks, Earen can have the ‘Kirby’ Star as a companion, just like how Asha has Valentino and Magnifico and Amaya have Charo.

((Side #2: Anybody else notice that Star lowkey looks and sounds like Kirby😶))

Earen and Star journey down to Rosas once they hear Asha’s pleas for guidance. Once Asha tells of Magnifico and Amaya’s lies, Earen reveals that he actually met Magnifico decades ago. The amount of years shocks Asha, as she realizes that the King and Queen might be far older than what they are.

((Side note #3: I didn’t realize this till someone mentioned it, but if Sabino is 100 and he gave Magnifico his wish at 18, then he’s been waiting 82 years for his wish to be granted. Which means it’s likely that Magnifico might be immortal. That, or Disney didn’t think this shit through (most likely)))

Anyways, Earen actually attempted to stop Magnifico and Amaya’s ploy to keep the wishes of Rosas locked away, but he was sealed within the heavens until he and Star heard Asha make her wish.

We can have it that the king and queen spun the story so that Earen was made out to be an evil that once threatened Rosas, but Magnifico banished him and saved everyone, essentially making himself out to be the good guy and manipulating the narrative.

Asha and Earen must now work together to expose the lies of the royal couple, and along the way, the two begin to fall in love. Earen disguises himself as a peasant boy so as to remain inconspicuous, while Asha tries to go about her job as if nothing happened, evading the King and Queen’s suspicions.

Star gives Asha a stick infused with stardust once finding out she is, quite literally, the sorcerers apprentice. It is also so that she may defend herself, as Earen has his powers and a sword (similarly to Peter Pan).

Unlike Magnifico, Earen and Star teach Asha the wonders of magic and the potential she wields, showing that there is no need for her to hold back when her gift can help so many, including those she loves.

The three manage to sneak into the kings study, but only have time to retrieve Sabino’s wish and return it to him. However, Magnifico and Amaya, now strengthened by the powers of dark magic, find Asha and Earen and threaten to destroy all the wishes should Earen not surrender to them.

And as a way to ensure that Asha doesn’t foil their plans, Magnifico destroys both Asha and Sakina’s wishes, despite Asha not being eighteen yet. However, the evil magic allows him to do so. This act weakens the two women, and infuriates Earen.

Earen then willingly complies despite Asha’s opposition, and Sabino takes Asha and Sabina to the seven (well six) teens for aid, who are in hiding after Simon ratted them out and who now serves as a puppet to the king and queen.

Despite loosing her wish, Asha finds the strength to carry on through the memory of her late father, enlisting the help of her friends and Star, who managed to evade the royal couple’s grasp. The team must work together to save Earen, whose power will be drained by Magnifico and Amaya. And if such a feat were to happen, then Earen would die and Rosas would be lost.

The five teens go into the woods to distract one of the royals, with the aid of the forest fauna and Star. Amaya chases the group alongside Charo while Magnifico tortures Earen and begins stealing his power. With the help of Dahlia, Asha sneaks into the castle to confront her former mentor and save Earen before it’s too late.

At first, it seems that the heroes have the upper hand with Magnifico neutralized, but then, Amaya swoops in riding Charo, who now takes the form of a giant dragon. Earen transforms into a dragon himself and battles Charo and Amaya, while Asha continues battling Magnifico. Star even comes to help after the original plan fails.

However, the unholy trio have the upper hand, and Amaya strikes down Earen, giving Magnifico enough time to not only drain Earen’s power, but to trap Star within his staff. With their combined powers, Magnifico and Amaya gather all of the peoples wishes, even stealing the wishes of those not yet of age, which includes the teens.

With all the wishes gathered, the couple and their pet destroy all the wishes, taking their energy for themselves.

Asha falls into despair as she watched her friends, love ones, and community succumb to the grief of loosing their wishes. The king and queen force Asha to apologize to the people, mocking her and making her feel even more guilty.

However, Earen comforts Asha despite his weak state, telling her it’s alright and that she shouldn’t be ashamed of wishing on Star, as he brought the two of them together. The two kiss, the strength of their newfound love and hope shining through the darkness and inspiring the people of Rosas to rise up.

As the sky and stars become alive, Magnifico’s staff is destroyed, releasing Star in the process. All the evil magic he, Amaya, and Charo used is sucked out of them and vanquished, and Earen is restored to full vitality.

Think of this as the transformation scene from Princess and the Frog. Asha and Earen get new outfits, with Asha even gaining a crown and a new wand from Star.

((Side Note #4: The “transformation” in the finale of the film is so stupid. Asha could’ve literally gotten a new dress once she becomes a fairy godmother, but instead, Star just made her sparkly. How magical🙄))

Rosas rejoices, as they realize they don’t need the king to make their wishes come true, and they can pursue them themselves. With Magnífico and Amaya banished from Rosas, Asha and Earen become the new rulers, being names Prince and Princess respectively.

And that’s basically how I would’ve done Wish. It’s not perfect, but it’s just an idea. I’m just disappointed that Disney do something better for their 100th anniversary.

[cieloclercs]

what would you say (if i told you i love you)? — charles leclerc

PART: 3? (read part 2 here)

summary. in which childhood best friends blur the lines between what they’ve always known, and something more

warnings. swearing, online hate, we’re getting to the angst now 🫣 arguments, charles is an idiot, arthur and joris being sick of his shit (but what else is new)

pairings. charles leclerc x arsty!reader

face claim. tara michelle

author’s note. again, i have no idea how much modern art sells for at auctions so don’t come at me if this seems unrealistic 🙏☹️ i also feel the need to clarify that y/n has 2 instagram accounts, one personal and one for art stuff ☺️

liked by joris_trouche and 51,196 others

y/nsart auction update! 🎨

tide - sold for €12,460 erode - sold for €9,500 wave - sold for €20,890 glint - sold for €6,300

this is nothing short of a dream come true for me. the support i’ve seen both on social media and at the auction (once again, thank you to everyone who stopped by!) has been beyond anything i ever could have hoped for 🩵

if you’d told me when i was a little girl that one day people would pay for art i’ve created, i wouldn’t have believed you. i’m so so grateful to have been given this opportunity to do something that i love and to share it with the world 💗 i can’t wait to see what the future holds!

view all comments…

username congratulations y/n! 💕💕

*y/nsart liked this comment

leclerc_pascale C'est tout à fait mérité. N'arrêtez jamais de peindre, ma fille, vous avez un don! / completely deserved. never stop painting, my girl, you have a gift!

y/nsart merci beaucoup 🥹 je promets de ne pas le faire x / i promise i won’t

arthur_leclerc congratulations petite sœur! / little sister

y/nsart merci arth ☺️

y/nsart also, ‘petite’? i’m literally older than you?

arthur_leclerc but you’re smaller 🙃

charles_leclerc toujours fière de toi, ma chérie ❤️ / forever proud of you, sweetheart

y/nsart 😐

charles_leclerc you’re still mad at me? ☹️

y/nsart if you wanted one of my paintings you could have just asked rather than wasting over €20,000. i would have let you have it for free

charles_leclerc i didn’t waste anything, y/n

username uh oh mom and dad are fighting 😳

username ironic how her highest selling painting was literally bought by her best friend 😭

username i guarantee you it would NOT have sold for that much if charles hadn’t been bidding

username i don’t want to be the one to say it but lately it kind of feels like y/n’s been using her friendship with charles as a way to promote her art…

username as much as i love y/n icl i think you might be right 🥲

username 🤢🤢🤢

username stop using charles’ fame to try and make yourself relevant! you’ll never be good enough for him babes 🥰

username the switch up on these comments from ‘fans’ is actually so embarrassing

username i know! it’s like as soon as y/n starts becoming successful everyone suddenly decides it’s not because of her own hard work but because of charles 🙄

username lmao how has she managed to make tens of thousands for that shit she calls art? i’m sensing a clout chaser 😂

username this REEKS of jealousy

username these comments make me sick. y/n has proved time and time again how talented and hard working she is. just because charles doesn’t know you exist doesn’t mean you get to hate on another girl who he ACTUALLY cares about. grow up.

*charles_leclerc and y/nsart liked this comment

username i feel so bad for y/n. no offence to charles but if he’d let the auction play out normally without bidding (although he does have a right to do so if he wants!) then she wouldn’t be getting all this hate right now 😔

comments on this post have been limited.

liked by pierregasly and 1,567,836 others

charles_leclerc back to work 🇳🇱

view all comments…

username no y/n like? ☹️

username is y/n with you?

username guys check kym illman’s instagram! he said charles turned up to the paddock alone…

username i mean, y/n could be arriving later right?

username if y/n isn’t there it’ll be the first race she’s missed since singapore last year 😳

username y/n has a life besides charles! just because she’s not at one race doesn’t mean they’ve fallen out or anything ☺️

username but think about it…neither charles nor y/n have posted anything to do with each other since the auction a week ago normally they can barely go a day without posting each other 🥴

username can everyone just stop talking about y/n 🙄 all she ever did was distract him anyway

username forza charles! ❤️

username he’s not even smiling :((

username because he knows ferrari are shit, it’s probably nothing to do with y/n

username i didn’t even mention her? 😭

joris_trouche i think you’re missing someone mate

username JORIS??

username HE KNOWS SOMETHING!!

username JORIS PLEASE TELL US WHAT YOU KNOW

username i hate to be the bearer of bad news but y/n just posted. she’s not at the grand prix 🥲

yourusername

viewed by charles_leclerc and 9,637 others

replies:

arthur_leclerc oh shit arthur_leclerc what did he do joris_trouche just say the word and i’ll smack him for you 😁 ↳ yourusername please don’t do that 😭 yourfriend you don’t need him, mon amour ❤️ ↳ yourusername ☺️

you:

did i do something wrong?

we haven’t spoken in a week

charlie 🤍:

no, y/n

you:

you won’t answer my calls

charlie 🤍:

i’ve been thinking about what you said

i don’t want you to have to deal with hate because of me

you:

so you think ignoring me is the answer?

charlie 🤍:

i’m not ignoring you, y/n, i’m trying to protect you

you:

what the fuck?

charles, i don’t care what people say about you

charlie 🤍:

but i do

isn’t it for the best? if we aren’t seen together for a while, you won’t get any of the hate

you:

you really don’t get it do you

if you think i want you to cut me off to ‘protect me’ then maybe you don’t know me as well as i thought you did

charlie 🤍:

don’t say that

i just want everyone to see you the way i do

you:

and i already told you, i don’t care what they think of me

i only care what you think

charlie 🤍:

why?

you:

i’m surprised you haven’t figured it out yet

charlie 🤍:

figured what out? [ seen at 4:11PM ]

y/n?

you:

i think it’s best if we don’t see each other for a while

bye charles

charlie 🤍:

what?! [ seen at 4:13PM ]

y/n come back [ delivered at 4:14PM ]

just tell me what you mean [ delivered at 4:20PM ]

please y/n [ delivered at 4:47PM ]

liked by yourfriend and 1,637,937 others

scuderiaferrari A DNF in Zandvoort for Charles. Now time to refocus ready for Monza 🔜

view all comments…

username what the actual fuck was going on with him today?

username i don’t know. i’ve never seen him so distracted 😕

username honestly a rookie mistake. if he’s going to be pulling shit like this then he doesn’t deserve his seat 🤷

username it’s just one mistake?? calm down 😭

username why do i feel like this has something to do with y/n…

username oh my god will you all shut up about y/n 🙄 they’re not even dating !!

username and? they’ve been best friends since they were 5 years old. if my childhood friendship broke down i’d be pretty fucking upset about it too

username we don’t actually know that they’ve fallen out tho…neither of them have said anything

username but isn’t it obvious? y/n not at the race, charles being distracted and sulky around the paddock? they’ve definitely argued about something

username charles i can’t keep defending you when you do this 💔💔💔

username how this guy has managed to keep his seat with all these mistakes i have no idea 😒

username hopefully y/n will be in monza to bring him some good luck🤞

➜ part 4

[f1daydreamers]

𝐌𝐲 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐞 [𝐎𝐏𝟖𝟏]

gif credits: @u-u-piastri81

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Fem!Reader

Summary: Oscar is a visitor at your first art exhibition – not exactly his scene – but it's one that he contributed to financially to help you out, an upcoming artist he's taken a bit of a liking to.

Warnings: criticism but not always constructive, fluff, Reader and Oscar being cute, this man in a suit (audience may faint from the gifs), angst, maybe Oscar is a little out of character but I just upped his rizz by a solid 20% because I love him but he's way too shy to do any of this methinks :)

A/N: I know nothing about this profession icl but I got major black tie and exclusive event vibes from the gifs so this is what came out of it. I did a ton of research to make sure it wasn't too unrealistic but experience beats knowledge so if you guys read any things that need some correction, lmk!

Yeah, I never expected this to be so long but once I got to writing, I couldn't stop so hey, enjoy!

Word Count: 4.6k words (17 mins reading time avg)

…

Safe to say, this wasn’t Oscar’s scene.

Standing among collectors, art enthusiasts, curators, and industry professionals meant feeling a little out of place was a tad understated.

But he wanted to be here tonight. Of course, being invited is one thing but accepting the invitation comes with a whole new world of formalities he hadn’t prepared for.

You hadn’t noticed him yet, busy greeting and socialising with what looked like a few critics and journalists.

The notebooks in their hands were a dead giveaway but your hand drumming on your leg was another. You were anxious.

Oscar took a sip of his drink, the one he was offered when he received an entry pass coming through the venues' doors. He knew how much this evening meant to you, both in the months of planning and the dreams that preceded it.

Initially, the idea seemed farfetched, but as you dove straight into creating the collection, photographing it, staying up late to create statements that wholly captured the essence of your creative process, the once exciting prospect of submitting it to a gallery felt somewhat dissatisfying.

In a few conversations with Oscar, you’d shared your aspirations of seeing your portfolio bask in the limelight. However, the reality of organising a self-funded exhibition in a rented space would blow your budget out of the water.

You don’t know at what point but he’d made the decision to donate a significant sum of money to your artist fund, covering a major portion of the exhibition's expenses.

It helped you realise all those curious questions about possible venues, dates, and basic costs weren’t just to fuel his enthusiasm, but to sincerely offer his support.

You were grateful beyond what words could describe, and the least you could do was ask him to be here today.

You were nervous partially because you had critics and community leaders alike wandering around the space, conversing about your work you’d spent years dedicating blood, sweat and tears to.

But you were also nervous because he was here tonight.

Even if you’d drawn a squiggly line on a blank canvas, Oscar would marvel at it like it was the most beautiful thing on this planet, but tonight was when he was finally seeing your work in all its completion.

He brought your vision to life and the last thing you wanted to do was make him think his investment was a waste.

Last you’d checked, you hadn’t seen his brown wavy hair anywhere around the venue, his innocent smile playing on your mind even when you were entranced in conversation with fellow artists.

You stepped in front of a painting no one else currently seemed to be trained on, focusing on inhaling and exhaling your breaths, fidgeting with your fingers by your sides.

Tonight, was the most important day of your career by a mile.

“Excuse me.” Someone spoke up behind you and you inhaled a deep breath before whisking around to greet them. But your eyes grew soft, and your smile grew amicably at the man glancing downwards back at you.

“Do you know where I could find the host of the evening?” He asked, his smile mirroring yours, fiddling with the stem of his wine glass.

"Oscar," you breathed out, and the F1 driver had to force himself to disregard the palpable sense of relief that accompanied the utterance of his name.

The way it effortlessly rolled off your tongue, it left him wanting to hear you say it repeatedly.

“You made it.” He nodded his head, “I did.” Initially, he had doubts about attending, but considering the venue was conveniently located close to his hotel near Silverstone and his flight to Budapest wasn't until Monday evening, he managed to find the time to come.

You drew in a breath, "you look good." Your compliment was genuine, whenever you'd met up with Oscar or came across photos on Instagram, he was either in racing gear or in casual outfits. To see him in a suit was different. A good different.

"Thanks. Pretty sure I should be counting my breaths though." You chuckle as he looks down at himself, the shirt was a little smaller than he would've liked.

A testament to how life in Formula 1 was like and that his neck size had grown exponentially.

"Each one could be your last," you joked, adding on and he nodded.

"Exactly." His laugh culminated into a final chuckle, melting into a warm smile.

When you looked away, seeing the waiters you'd hired tonight refilling cups as people wandered around, Oscar took the opportunity to let his eyes drag over your figure.

"You look beautiful," his compliment drew a smile from you.

You briefly cast your gaze downward before lifting it to his chest then finally up to his eyes. "Thank you, Oscar."

He responded only with a curt nod; his eyes trained on your face before he tore them away to have a look around him.

"How's it going?"

You hummed, thinking about your answer. "It's okay. There's a few paintings that are getting lots of attention, others a little less."

"Did you expect that?" He asked and you reasoned, you knew when you began this collection that people would naturally gravitate more towards some pieces anyway, that's the advice you were given everywhere you went.

"Yeah, I'd be lying if I said I didn't." Oscar took a sip of some liquid courage before pointing at the painting you'd just been standing in front of with the rim of his glass.

"I like this one." You turned as he took steps towards it, his shoulder grazing yours. "This is the last one." You mentioned as he skimmed over the statements planted on the wall next to the artwork.

"I think it's an elderly couple, and the mirrors all around them are portals into a specific memory of their relationship." He said undisputedly. You look up at him, your mouth parting slightly in surprise.

"Yeah, how did you figure that out so quickly?"

"It's almost like you were brainstorming ideas to me on call a few months ago." You scoff, rolling your eyes but ultimately impressed by his memory.

He hadn't spoken much during that phone call, so you'd assumed he wasn't paying much attention to your endless rambles.

"I never realised you were actually listening." You softly said and Oscar turned his head to look at you.

"Every word." He reassured, and a warm feeling encompassed your chest at his affirmation.

His gaze traced over the painting once more. While he had never hesitated to express his belief in your talent, seeing your artwork displayed in such a way stirred a whirlwind of emotions inside of him.

He was proud of you and excited for you, knowing that you had undertaken this journey for your own sake, garnering an array of artistic admirers. It's no mean feat to organise an event like this, take a risk so early on in your career.

"I don't know how I'll ever be able to repay you." You snap him out of his thoughts, turning your body towards him, standing a few feet away.

Oscar mimicked your movements, turning so he was facing you, and placed his now empty glass on a bar tray that a waiter had extended to him, refusing a refill.

"Why do you think you need to repay me? Remember, it was a donation." He said matter-of-factly. You let out a sigh.

Despite his repeated assurances that he expected nothing in return, you couldn't shake off the feeling of indebtedness that lingered in your thoughts.

You found yourself dwelling on the late-night conversations, wondering if your eagerness to discuss your plans had inadvertently conveyed desperation.

Your gaze drops and without hesitation, he reaches his hand out and gently slots it into yours, his thumb caressing over your skin in a soothing gesture. Your heart skips a beat or two, the warmth of his hand was relieving.

"This is the best way you can repay me. Living the dream." He smiles and you nod, finally lifting your eyes to meet his. His voice was a calming anchor amid your thoughts.

"I'll never forget how you made it possible though," a small smile graced your lips, and he let out a chuckle.

"Yeah, you never miss a chance to mention it," he quipped, his eyes dancing with amusement. You playfully rolled your eyes, a good-natured sigh escaping you as you did.

Oscar's hand retreated to his side, and a subtle longing for his touch flickered within you. Nevertheless, you mask it with a smile that grew as you exchanged a couple more jokes.

...

He courteously held the door ajar, giving a nod to a man entering the bathroom who appeared to appreciate the gesture. Letting the door close behind him, Oscar took out his phone to check the time.

Absentmindedly, he began scrolling through his notifications: a mix of sports updates, a message from his mum, one from Mark. Yet, none seemed particularly urgent.

Just as he was about to tap on one of the notifications, his attention was drawn upward to the sound of your voice.

You were engaged in conversation with a man, his journal held in his hands, and sunglasses perched atop his head. Oscar's gaze briefly went back to his phone screen; he made no overt effort to eavesdrop.

Despite this, fragments of your conversation found their way to his ears anyway.

"I must say, your work is quite disappointing. The lack of technical skill is evident in every piece." Oscar's eyebrows furrow as he observes openly, a marked departure from his earlier disinterested demeanour.

You clear your throat as you try to collect yourself, bringing your fingers up to your mouth to hide your quivering lip.

You had previously cautioned yourself that not everyone will like your work, but experiencing such candid criticism directly was far more destructive than you could have expected.

"Um, okay. What sort of things did you not like about it?" You asked, trying to find some sort of valuable insight from such a respected critic in your community.

"The colours are garish and clash horribly. It's clear that you have no understanding of colour theory or composition." You nod, gathering some form of strength to just take his words on the chin but you were failing rather miserably. Your stomach was sinking, and your eyes were watering slowly.

"It's a shame that your efforts have resulted in such subpar creations." Your jaw tightens and as you scramble for the right words to respond with in your mind, a hand presses into your lower back from behind.

"Excuse me. I want to purchase a piece, but I can't seem to find your sales assistant." The accent is unmistakable, and you muster a smile as you turn to face him.

"I'll help you." Your voice is unsteady, your emotions deflated.

"Thank you," Oscar responds, though his gaze carries a hint of concern. He moves to follow you but before he can do so, the critic extends his hand to grasp his arm, waiting until he's certain you're out of earshot.

"Coming from a collector, don't bother." He smirks, his conviction clear. Yet, the F1 driver's face remains impassive.

"Sorry, I don't remember asking you. Now, if you don't mind." He looks down at the grip on his arm, his fist clenching by his side. The critic seems taken aback at the blank expression looking back at him, devoid of any gratefulness.

He swallows before loosening his grip.

Oscar rounds the pillar just as you press down on the handle to the fire door exit at the distant end.

He contemplates whether he should grant you some space, but he wonders if doing so will only make matters worse.

Pausing briefly, he contemplates his choices before deciding to make his way toward the fire exit anyway. His hand firmly grasps the handle, and he proceeds to push open the door.

With your back turned towards him, you're unaware of his presence. Your palms are pressed against your face as a means of stifling your sniffles hence the closing of the door registers faintly, the sound hardly penetrating your thoughts.

It's only when the crunching of gravel beneath someone's shoes reaches your ears that you realise you're no longer alone. But oddly, you know there's only one person who it could be.

The combination of embarrassment, distress, and sheer exhaustion was what left you feeling so overwhelmingly emotional.

Aware that you don't want Oscar to witness you in this state, you quickly swipe at your cheeks, hastily erasing any traces of tears from your face.

You whisk around, smiling up at him and nodding your head. "I'm good Os. It's not always going to be a perfect score, right?" His heart swells at the nickname you called him, very few people did so, but hearing it from you felt special in a way.

"He's a dick," the F1 driver bluntly responds, his tone carrying a hint of anger.

You chuckle softly, but the sigh that follows is slightly shaky. A wave of heaviness crashes over you again as the critic's hurtful words echo in your mind, your stomach sinking in response.

Oscar picks up on the shift of emotion and his eyes soften at your teary and lowering expression.

Without a word, he opens his arms and pulls you into an embrace. You don't resist; instead, you bury your face in his shoulder, your shoulders trembling as silent tears escape your eyes.

His arms encircle you tightly, offering a comforting refuge as your emotions spill over again.

His chest rises and falls with each steady breath, the rhythm providing you with some comfort despite how irritated you're getting at yourself for letting one conversation bother you this much.

As he holds you, his chest aches both for your vulnerability and the anger he feels towards the critic who provoked it. You reluctantly pull away after a minute or so, a mixture of gratitude and sadness in your eyes.

But in the moment, you can't help but feel that the money he donated for the exhibition might have gone to waste, that your efforts fell short.

Disappointing your clients is business but disappointing him felt personal, he was the reason you even had a chance to do this, and it'd turned out horribly.

"I let you down," you say quietly, and Oscar's eyebrows knit together as he studies your expression.

"How? Every piece I love, Y/N." He responds, placing his hand on your forearm, his touch warm. It sends a flurry of goosebumps over your skin which you're sure he would've picked up on considering his attention to detail.

He positions his index finger under your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes which you do. Your legs suddenly feel like they're incapable of keeping you upright, your face warming under his gaze.

"You didn't let me down." He whispers.

Oscar's concern remains palpable as his hand doesn't fall back to his side. His eyes hold a depth of emotion, the colours in his eyes becoming more distinct.

The connection that you can sense increases, and it's as if the unspoken understanding between you becomes more profound in that moment.

His cologne surrounds you but it's his gaze that flickers to your lips, a fleeting but unmistakable gesture. You realise that he's leaning in closer and there's a fraction of a second when it feels like the world around you fades.

The possibility of his lips meeting yours feels tantalisingly close.

But just as the moment deepens, you're both interrupted by one of the assistants, their voice breaking through the charged atmosphere.

"Sorry," the assistant interjects, sounding somewhat hurried. "There're a few clients waiting to speak with you Y/N."

Oscar slowly pulls back; he tucks in his bottom lip between his teeth and his expression shifts from one of intimacy to one of polite neutrality.

He offers you a subtle smile, the connection lingering between you even as the assistant's words redirect your attention.

"Of course," you reply, your voice steady despite quite the hurricane of emotions storming inside of you. You look to the assistant, ready to face the responsibilities of the exhibition once again. As you move away, you steal a glance at him, his gaze locked onto you for a moment longer before he nods.

That damned connection between you and Oscar remains, but now only punctuated by unspoken possibilities.

...

"Thank you, ma'am." you say with a warm smile as the elderly woman clasps your hand, offering kind words about your artwork while draping her shawl over her shoulders.

Once she'd left, you looked around to see if there was anyone else remaining in the space. Oscar had left a while ago considering he was on a flight tomorrow to Budapest.

Though a tinge of disappointment lingered within you, you understood and bid him goodnight.

You wrapped up a little later than you would've liked, a couple of your pieces had sold so you had to coordinate transport for them.

For the remaining few, you'd wrapped them up, gathered the papers for each one before loading them into the van to have them delivered back to your studio.

Oscar eventually made it back to the space he'd rented on Airbnb, staying in a hotel for a week definitely wasn't something he was fond of doing, a neatly packaged box of takeout planted on the small table.

He threw the crumpled paper bag into the bin and settled onto the couch, his phone in hand. He opened Instagram, scrolling through his feed to pass the time it'd take for him to get sleepy.

As he tapped through the stories, your profile picture caught his eye. He felt a smile tug at his lips as he watched it whole. The familiar scenes of the exhibition unfolded before him – videos capturing the venue, the artwork.

His gaze lingered on the art as if he hadn't been there tonight, his mind wandering into the world you had created. It wasn't just the work itself that interested him; it was the glimpse they offered into your mind, your perspective, and the emotions you poured into your work.

The admiration he felt for your creativity was intertwined with the growing fondness he was developing for you as a person.

Once you'd reached home, you dropped on to the couch with a sigh of relief that the day was done.

So, when your phone started vibrating besides you, you groaned and brought it up to your ear, not bothering to take a look at the caller ID.

"Y/N," you closed your eyes and waited for the other person to respond. They stuttered first before speaking up, "should I - should I reply with my name, or do we just get into the conversation?"

You lightly gasped, chuckling and straightening up on the couch. "Oscar, sorry. I'm still in work mode I think." You rubbed your forehead and the F1 driver poked through his food with a fork on the other end.

"No harm done. You back from the venue?" He asked and you stretched your legs out in front of you, fiddling with the hem of your dress.

"Yeah, only just. Perfect timing, Piastri." He smiled at your response, "I pride myself in that."

"I'm sure you do." You joked teasingly and fell back on the couch again. The similar onset of warmth and goosebumps from earlier bubbled up again inside of you.

"I thought you would've knocked out by now." Oscar hums, swallowing his food as he traps his phone between his ear and shoulder, throwing the now empty box on to the coffee table in front of him.

"Yeah well, I needed to eat. Luckily for me, there was a long queue at every takeaway place tonight." He retorted sarcastically and you scoffed, "typical London."

He agreed wordlessly before shifting his body horizontally, propping his head up on the armrest, his legs splaying over the leather sofa.

"What did you end up getting?" He made a humming sound as he reached for the receipt he'd tossed carelessly aside, bringing it up to eye level.

"Caribbean chicken curry." He said slowly, squinting to read the half-printed letters. Your stomach rumbling beneath you helped you remember that you too hadn't eaten for majority of the day. Your last meal was breakfast with a few snacks you always have on hand.

"Sounds good. I'd kill for some chicken curry right now." You mumble and Oscar's head turns to look up at the clock hung on the wall above the television.

"How 'bout I bring some?" He asks nonchalantly and your heart skips, you stutter in your response, glancing at the digital clock blinking at you from the corner table.

"You'd do that?" You say, a little more high-pitched than you would've preferred.

He smiles, refraining to say something corny. "Yeah, well I mean it's not my bedtime for another hour so..." He trails off thus leaving you to make the decision.

You don't even care about the food anymore, your stomach is doing somersaults from the mere thought of seeing him twice in one day.

"Only if it's alright with you. If you need to sleep, please sleep." You insist and there's a pause, you could swear you hear keys jangling on the other end of the phone before Oscar confirms.

"I'll be there in a bit."

...

You're changed into some slightly more flattering pyjamas than your regular animated giraffe ones when you hear a knock on your door. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you walk the length of the hallway and reach for the doorknob.

Giving it a couple of moments, you open the door to find Oscar standing there, a warm smile on his face that mirrors your own feelings.

He's holding a paper bag up and you smile, "my saviour. Come in."

He slides past you, toeing his trainers off and pushing them up to the wall so they weren't in the direct pathway, allowing you to lead him into the living room.

He places the bag on to your wooden dining table and you sigh in delight, the smell of the food faintly wafting out of it.

"How much do I owe you?" He shakes his head, letting you take the box out of the bag.

"Only your eternal gratitude," he replies, his lips curving into a smile as he takes in the sight of your light expression, your eyes lit with appreciation.

"You already have that." You chuckle.

Eventually, you begin eating, all the while holding a conversation. With each passing minute, a subtle worry creeps in - that he might decide to leave soon. Not that you're against him getting his rest, but your own enjoyment of his company is growing stronger by the second.

The idea of the evening ending prematurely becomes less and less appealing. The warmth of his presence, the humour in his words, the hesitance you initially felt about him leaving transformed into a silent plea for him to stay, at least a little longer.

"I'm going to go up and use the bathroom, head over to the couch, make yourself comfortable." You insist and Oscar nods. His feelings he was aware of when he reached back to his place had tripled since he'd got here.

His leg had been bouncing the entire duration he'd been talking, he was nervous but albeit not understandably. He'd visited your place a few times now, he'd known you for nearly a year.

Nothing about the fluttery sensation in his belly, the excitement prior to seeing you, the attraction, the thoughtfulness, made any sense to him.

But at the same time, they made perfect sense. He likes you. A whole lot.

Realising he was getting a bit warm, he pulled the hoodie over his neck to reveal just a plain white tee underneath.

Tossing it on to the dining room chair he was previously sat on, he plops on to the couch, bringing the calf of his right leg up to rest on the knee of his left, his arm outstretching on the back of the couch.

You eventually return, having brushed your teeth since the aftertaste of the curry wasn’t a very pleasant one in your mouth.

“Do you piss for that long?" Oscar asks curiously, locking his phone and sliding it on to the table.

You scoff and feign offence as you sit next to him just a few inches away. "I don't actually, even if I did, what's it to you?" You tease and he shrugs, his lower arm draping off the couch casually, his fingertips brushing close to your shoulder.

"I was bored," he admits, his explanation falling a bit flat.

You raise an eyebrow, a mockingly sympathetic expression on your face. "Poor Oscar, suffering from boredom in my humble abode. My heart aches for you." He smirks, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he shakes his head at your antics.

His eyes sparkle with amusement, "Well, I must say your empathy is truly heartwarming."

"That's just me, a paragon of compassion," you quip, a mischievous glint in your eyes. His proximity has your heart racing, and you're acutely aware of the playful tension that's building between you.

He tilts his head, his gaze holding yours as he leans in slightly. "You know, I was half expecting you to beg for my forgiveness."

You roll your eyes, your gaze locked on to his, you didn't mean for them to glance down to his lips, but it didn't skip past his notice either.

Your heart was hammering in your chest and the silence that followed afterwards definitely gave Oscar enough time to be able to pick up on it.

"Please forgive me Oscar, please?" You reduce your words to a whisper and he smiles, refusing to waste another second and he instantly ducks his head to catch your lips in a fervent kiss.

His actions catch you off guard, the sensation electrifying and sending a jolt of surprise through your system.

Your thoughts scatter as the world seems to narrow down to the point of contact between your lips. The kiss is eager and filled with a mixture of longing and curiosity, as if both of you have been dancing around this moment for far too long.

Your heart continues racing, and time feels suspended as his touch sends shivers up and down your spine.

The sudden intimacy of it all is exhilarating, and you find yourself responding without hesitation, your fingers instinctively finding their way to his arm, your body moving a fraction closer to his.

A soft moan escapes you, and Oscar slides his hand beneath your top, pressing his palm against your waist. A squeeze of your skin hints at you to move back slightly, creating the room needed for him to push you down on to your back.

Your lips detach for a moment as he positions himself over you, lowering his head seconds later to press them together again.

His face was level with yours when he eventually pulled away to catch his breath, and let you catch yours, his arm propping him up besides your head.

"Isn't it your bedtime?" He chuckles softly, his fingers toying with a few strands of your hair.

"I'll just have to use the plane's naptime feature." You laugh, bringing your hand up to push his hair out of his eyes.

His gaze flickers across your face, capturing the traces of your faint smile lines and the tiny beauty mark adorning your skin.

He leans in, planting a tender kiss on the mole. Meanwhile, your fingertips journey to the nape of his neck, exploring the contours of his hair.

He grins boyishly when he picks his head up again. "I think I could stay here forever," he admits, his voice a soft confession.

You playfully raise an eyebrow. "Oh really? What if the plane's naptime feature gets jealous?"

He chuckles, a low, melodious sound. "Well, I guess it'll just have to deal with a bit of competition," he remarks before his lips find yours once again.

...

Masterlist

[auroraborealyss]

𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐮𝐬' 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬.

⊹ pairing: morpheus x reader

⊹ summary: how morpheus, dream of the endless, the king of dreams, or as you know him: your love, expresses his love

⊹ warnings: some explicit language, but mostly none (however my inputs are slightly out of control in this one—case and point: this note)

⊹ word count: 3107

𝗴𝗶𝗳𝘁 𝗴𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴 you are talking to the king of dreams. the Endless who's responsible for seeing what people dream about, what they're scared of, and managing it. this is also the same Endless who thought it would be a fun idea to put his power into three of his favourite things. of course gifts is going to be his main love language

as the lord of dreams, of course his first instinct is to give you whatever you want. to create whatever you wan. he genuinely finds pleasure in creating something himself to give to you

(dare i say a kink)

has definitely fashioned a dream after you. whatever impact you have on morpheus (make him warmer, kinder, see the beauty in humans and their short but well-lived lives, etc...), that dream because that for others

no need to buy new clothes when he can just make you whatever you want

you want the top half of that one dress but the bottom half of another? check your closet.

you want the new book from your favorite author but it doesn’t release for another six months? check your mail.

you want that chocolate that was discontinued? check your cabinets?

even if you’re not in the palace of the dreaming at all times, he insists that you live in one in the waking world. so he buys/inspires an architect to make you your dream apartment/house

if its an apartment and you live by yourself? still gets you a three bedroom for no fucking reason other than he wants you to be comfortable. there used to be a hill that blocked your window? your architect was inspired to demolish it. you want it back? your architect is inspired to build one

if it’s a house, insert lazy river (honestly, if i had the money to waste and spend, i’d get one for myself. alas, the only lazy river i get is when my sink overflows) cue to you casually floating on a donut floatie while reading a book, doing laps around your house over and over again

if you do a form of art, you’ll get a room dedicated to it. a library. a painter’s studio. a photography room. sculpting nook. all of it and more.

there is nothing you could want that he could not give you

and never ever bring up money unless you want a mysterious and rude amount of money deposited into your account to wake up to

he'll also go to great lengths if you need a particular item (exhibit a: him going into the lake to get gifts for the fates. he did all that for his items, so imagine what he'd do for you)

but you want to know what the best gift he gives you?

his coc

𝗮𝗰𝘁𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗶𝗰𝗲 this man will be begging for you to let him do things for you. in this essay—

(did you see the calliope episode? because that part of episode 1.11 is basically exhibit b for this section)

someone said something mean to you? bam. they will be plagued by nightmares of someone he loves saying those things to him until he dies.

if you’re a better person than him and won’t let him mentally torture people for as long as he likes and thinks they deserve, he’ll omit telling you that he’s torturing people. what you don’t know, won’t hurt, right?

but if you’re flirting with the line that is morally good and you do consent to letting him torture people, he might show you his progress on them and their decaying sanity

“look at what i have done with the love i have for you.”

you still get nightmares when you sleep, not because he wants to hurt you, but because nightmares can actually help you. dreams can inspire us to be better, but so can nightmares. for example, being visited by a nightmare that shows you your fear of failing that test makes you wake up and be motivated to study. what he does do for you is restrain the nightmares? he lets them scare you enough to act as a motivator, but not extremely that you are crippled with fear and anxiety

protective morpheus (currently sobbing)

when you wake and leave the Dreaming, he’s gone but there’s always a cup of coffee with you

acts of service also include making others do acts. rather than get a phone, forces matthew to carry messages between you and him instead.

if you're studying and need information on something, he'll have lucienne prepare a stack of books, and maybe even notes, for you to see to when you return to him in the Dreaming

but the biggest act of service he can do for you is meet your friends

lets you drag him to parties and dinner and brunches

might not socialize (probably will not), and you might find him standing in the corner becoming a shadow, but he won't bother you to leave until you want to

he'll watch you the whole time

takes care of your drinks (and everyone else's)

or, he might follow you around like a shadow. no matter who you talk to, he'll be standing beside you, an arm around your waist

if you're a social butterfly, he admires that about you

if you're more socially introverted, he'll hang out with you in the shadows and leave when you want to, even if you've only been there for five minutes

basically he's a simp—and he might actually proudly admit to being one because who's the one who's dating you in the end?

𝗽𝗵𝘆𝘀𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝘁𝗼𝘂𝗰𝗵 before his confinement, he wasn’t the most physical person. he wouldn’t pull away, but he didn’t reach for you either, though he always secretly liked it. after his imprisonment, he begins to reach for you. not just that, but he begins to crave your touch. touch is how he reminds himself that he is with you, you are with him, and that he is free

in public, it’s limited but clear that you’re together

the last thing he needs is hearing matthews’ teasing squawks in his ear about morpheus being the endless version of a cat

when lucienne catches pda, she’ll at least be respectful and dignified and not comment, though she will be grinning like a cheshire cat and her eyes will keep looking

your arm around his when walking around

his hand on your back

then your lower back

brushing your hair out of your face

sitting close enough for shoulder and legs to touch

standing close

(once again, I bring up the calliope episode—someone stop me from rewatching that over and over again)

did you see how close they were standing? then, when you thought they were close enough, he takes an even closer step? that. THAT.

whatever concept you have of personal space, a personal bubble, this man is inside it. yes, your arms might be linked while walking. but your sides will be pressed together.

and while it might appear that you're the one who links your arms together, he is the one who already has his elbow slightly bent and held out towards you

when you do hold hands, his thumb brushes over your skin absentmindedly, as if feeling your warmth isn’t enough and it’s a constant reminder of him that you’re there

but when you do the same to him, or gods help him, you squeeze it, he, with every fibre of his being, will feel it and nearly stop from the overwhelming feelings that threaten to send him to the ground

so keep it sparingly

...or not

kisses in public..truthfully, he's probably leaning towards no. full on make out sessions? probably not. when you guys are saying goodbye, i’m seeing more of a tight, slightly awkward dip of the head—a farewell not

but, bringing that calliope episode up once again, he won’t don't anything if you were to initiate it.

kiss on the cheek? you better hold that position for a few fucking seconds so you can let that man close his eyes and savour the intimateness that is the feeling of your soft lips against his cold cheek.

why don’t you press your forehead against the side of his head while you’re at it? you know, when you’re done kissing him but before you pull away. think of it as giving him a few seconds to revert back to cold, formal morpheus, dream of the endless, and not your boyfriend/partner

stares at you when you’re not looking

stares at you even when you're looking

stares down at you when you're asleep in his arms

stares up at you when he's down on his knees between your—sorry, wrong fic

imagine those intense eyes just looking at you and not looking away, not ashamed at taking in the beauty that is his partner

he has no qualms when someone is staring at you, because how he can be blame them

but he does have qualms when their gaze turns into a leer. that's when he'll send a couple nightmares their way for a few directions. not to mention, he'll turn his gaze from you to glare them down, and because they have now deprived him from admiring you for the few seconds this last, he blames it on them and gives them a...gift (and a visit to desire if he finds out they had something to do with it)

on the rare occasion that he's actually using his throne and sitting on it rather than dramatically sitting on the steps after he spread his coat out around him, he might let you sit on his lap (nothing more...in public)

not straddling him—god no—but sitting horizontal so your legs are over his lap and your side is against his chest with your arms around his neck and his arms around your waist

he does that when he needs to relax

he might whisper his problems and insecurities in your ear

but in private—in private—this man is draped over you

he’ll be like a cat who actually likes his owner and will curl up on you

if you’re cuddling, you’ll lie with your head on his chest and his arm around your shoulders, maybe playing with your hair

he may or may not use a bit of his sand to help you sleep if you’re having troubles entering his realm, but with him drawing random shapes on your skin or the steady rise and fall of his chest, or, if you're really lucky, he's reading aloud in that quiet, low, asmr voice of his, you're gone all too quickly

he always feels a bit stiff when the cuddle session begins, but after you lie down on him long enough, his limbs soften before gripping onto you tighter

but back to that no-such-thing-as-a-personal-bubble with him

walls

bringing into evidence, exhibit c: episode 1.03 with johanna constantine

why does he have to be so physically close with everyone (that isn't me)

likes to walk you backwards until you hit a wall

once you hit that wall, he may or may not take an even closer step

then closer

and even closer, but his arms are still in his pockets because he's cool and edgy like that (and intimidatingly hot)

close enough until he's kissing you

then he'll press against you to be even closer

we can unpack the trauma that being separated from everyone he loves for 100 years and being physically separated by a wall of glass some other day. for now, enjoy his closeness

because basically, close is still too far for him

𝗾𝘂𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 not 24/7 hanging out, because he is the king of dreams and he has a realm to run, but he does spend his time with you wisely, and just because you're not with him all the time, doesn't mean he isn't thinking about you all the time

his favourite thing is the two of you being in each other’s presence but working on your own things. he appreciates it more than he realizes, and during the times you sit to the side as he makes new dreams, he’ll sometimes put aspects of you in them—intentionally or unintentionally

when you aren't together, he'll still be consumed with thoughts of you

he thinks of you all the time, actually. and because of that, he also talks about you all the time, sometimes subconsciously. and sometimes with no reason at all—or perhaps the only reason he needs to bring you up is because you're you and he's in love with you

"y/n did extremely well on her project, did you hear?" "did you hear about my report on the rogue nightmares, sir?" matthew asks. "she worked very hard on it. i'm proud of her."

thinks about you when doing research in the library with lucienne

wonders about you when going on walks with death

mentions you on dinners with hob

dates with him doesn't have to be the most exciting thrilling thing. in fact, he likes living in domestic bliss with you. doing dishes together. helping you with laundry. watching a movie. people watching. walking your pets.

he usually leaves you alone when you’re awake and uses that time for his duties while you’re busy doing awake things anyway, but when you do fall asleep and are in the dreaming, that’s when the two of you are always together, stuck at the hip (and we're back to the closeness)

takes you out to dinner everyday where he listens to you talk and rant about your day and give you suggestions. he eventually does the same with you, and you become the first person he goes to whenever he needs consultations for his problems

insert jealous hob when he finds him and you eating and morpheus actually talking to you and not just sitting there quietly like with him

but hob gets over it (he doesn’t) and sometimes he’ll join dinner with you guys.

family dinners in his realm with you, hob, death, lucienne, marvin (and only because you invited him), matthew (though morpheus gives him a dog bowl rather than a plate)

during the moments the two of you are together, he treasures and cherishes it

and during the moments when it's just the two of you together, he'll definitely make it worth both your while

drawing it out (if you know what i mean)

and i mean, teasing you for hours and sessions that go until you wake—

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗮𝗳𝗳𝗶𝗿𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 ha no. did you see how emotionally constipated this man was? how he can't tell calliope he still loves her, admit to hob that they're friends, and ask for help from death? words are not the dream king's weapon

the most you get is a term of endearment, like my love or my beloved

always 'mine' though

but this Endless is not about to spout off a pride and prejudice speech at you, so don’t bother waking up early and going for a hike. just sleep and hang out with him in the Dreaming instead in silence

however he does have a beautiful voice—one that as his partner, you are allowed to take advantage of. cue making him read pride and prejudice at you (especially that speech: “you have bewitched me, body and soul, and i love…i love…i love you. i never wish to b parted from you from this day on.”) you with his head on your lap, him sitting against a tree with the branches over the both of you for some shade. one hand is holding up the book, the other is absentmindedly twirling your hair. when he finishes the line, he looks down at you, slightly amused but completely enamoured, especially at the giddy expression on your face, and he dips down to kiss you

he tells you that he inspired jane austen to write that speech for you—it’s up to you if you want to believe him or call it bullshit

while he might not be giving love confessions every three seconds, he does give you compliments. and not just when you do something that warrants a compliment, but randomly. because to him, everything you do is majestic and needs to be acknowledged as so

"you're beautiful" when you're in casual clothes, sweats, pyjamas, (or bare)

"what would the world do without you?" when you hold open the door for an elderly couple

and you know he says it against your ear, voice low, his whispered words hot and heavy. maybe even a little raspy—

but just because he might not be the chatterbox on the block, doesn't mean he doesn't want someone talking to him

so don't give him the silent treatment, because when he does, he becomes insufferable to everyone

he's all curt to lucienne. snappy with matthew. demanding with poor marvin. sharp with cain and abel. rude with death. threatening with desire.

no one has nice dreams and nightmares become so much worse

not you, of course. you're still sleeping perfectly fine, but you realize something's wrong when you meet up with your friends and one of them hasn't slept in days while the other hasn't woken up in days

if it's his fault, it might take death for him to realize his mistakes and apologize to you. again, no long speech, just the simple words, "i'm sorry. i was wrong. please forgive me, my love." and considering this man's flaw is his ego, that is more than enough

and if you tell him to say it on his knees he will as he whispers it against your—

but if you're at fault, he won't back down until you apologize. however, he won't leave you alone. he'll always be there in the corner of your eye, waiting for you to apologize. and when you do, he'll purse his lips, nod, and say nothing. but you'll know he's already forgiven you when his eyes soften and he gives you that soft smile that's reserved for so few people

he might not talk to you, but he does want you to talk to him, so ramble away

let's not get started on what he says in private, but i'll tell you this. he isn't so silent anymore, and he will definitely appreciate whatever you tell him in whatever form—and might even strive to create and draw such sounds from you

a plea

a cry

a groan

a whimper

a scream—

in conclusion, this man will love you with every piece of him. (and if i could, i would do the same morpheus please just give me a chance)

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: 𝗐𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗈𝖻𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 1.06 𝗍𝗈 1.11. 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽. 𝗂 𝖺𝗆 𝖺𝖻𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗎𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 this 𝗆𝖺𝗇. 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝖼𝗋𝗎𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝗇𝗉𝗎𝗍𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇 𝖺𝗇 𝗇𝗌𝖿𝗐 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖾𝖽?

𝗂'𝗆 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝖺 14𝗁 𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝗌𝗈 𝗂𝖿 𝗂 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗁 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝗂𝖾, 𝖺𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗀𝗂𝖿𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽

𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌: 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘢𝘯'𝘴 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘶𝘴' 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘴𝘧𝘸 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯

𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘧!

[copperbadge]

Okay so wait a minute, with this aphantasia thing. I don’t think I have aphantasia because I process audio fine, in fact I prefer not to have any visual, but apparently there is some relationship between it and ADHD. I’m not trying to be confrontational in any of this but I’m bewildered by the idea of mentally picturing things you listen to or read about. It’s bothered me since I posted the ask. 

I can picture things in my head, if I stop and make a conscious decision to build them, but if I’m doing that I can’t do anything else -- I can’t listen to a podcast and picture it in my head and also do something with my hands. Come to think of it I probably couldn’t even keep up with the podcast if I was trying to picture it in my head, I’d struggle to choose which things to imagine and by the time I got them built they’d have moved on. It never feels like a very useful thing to do, because I’ve already got the words, that’s the important part, and I’d rather be doing stuff. I just assumed that most of the time when people talk about picturing stuff they’re either doing it very deliberately, like a guided meditation, or they’re being poetic, like people don’t actually do that, we just say we do as a way of describing someone thinking about something.

So, I’m listening to a podcast in which the host reads a letter from Napoleon Bonaparte to his brother, discussing his brother’s relationship with his wife (“she’s still young, let her dance if she wants, don’t lock her up with the kids all day.”) If you see images in your head when you hear audio, are you seeing the host reading off a sheet of paper, or Napoleon writing the letter, or Napoleon talking to his brother, or are you seeing Napoleon’s brother being mean to his wife? If you don’t know what any of these people look like, do you just make something up? 

Jesus Christ, when people read erotica do they picture the sex happening? What’s that like? You just get porn in your head involuntarily? I mean, not involuntarily, you’re choosing to read the text, but it just shows up when you do? 

Writers, when you write do you get mental images as you go? I often will pause in writing to build a mental image in my head and then describe it but as soon as I do it disappears, and it’s mostly a waste of time so I really only do that when I need to describe a space that people are moving around in (like the fishing lodge with the kitchen bar dividing the living room and kitchen, I do have several mental “camera snaps” of that setup, but I don’t picture it when I’m writing about it). 

This might explain why I always get yelled at for not describing people in my books. It’s simply unimportant to me 99% of the time and awkward to try and insert it the other 1%. I don’t picture people in my head when I read -- they’re a personality, a collection of characteristics. My characters don’t have faces to me, like how people in dreams don’t have faces, you just know who they are. I describe them but that’s just words I really like, or I pick out people who already exist and just say “oh they look like that”. Obviously when someone wants a description I do my best to supply it, but in prose it’s just not important. 

This is genuinely blowing my mind. This is why people always want descriptions of things! They get to see the descriptions! Reading a book must be like going to an art gallery anytime you want without moving. Is that what it’s like? Is this super common, like am I the weird one, or is this just like for people with super vivid imaginations? 

[kiarastromboli]

Teach me 4 (Chris Sturniolo x y/n)

Part. 1 Part.2 Part.3

Mesterlist.

Warning: Bit of angst, Smut content, don’t like it = don’t read it :)

Summary: Two years have passed since Chris and Y/N's breakup. Many things have changed, but apparently not the feelings Y/N has for Chris. But how will her return to Boston for the summer holidays unfold when she knows she hasn't moved on?

Note : I'm sorry for making you wait so long for this fourth part. I just wanted to make sure I did it right. Despite everything, I'm still afraid this part won't please you as much, and I apologize if the result isn't what you expected. I did my best.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

"Julia, stop, that's enough," I said, bursting into laughter at the excited screams of my best friend on the other end of the line.

"Stop?? It's been almost 2 years since we last saw each other, y/n. How do you expect me to keep calm when I'm going to see you in less than 24 hours?" She said, overexcited, and I could hear her fidgeting in every direction.

Indeed, it had been a while since I left Boston. After my parents sent me to the other side of the country, I started researching universities nearby. At the end of high school, I wasted no time in enrolling and starting my studies.

I had successfully completed my first year at the university, and now it was summer vacation. My parents agreed to let me return to Boston to enjoy my break with them and my friends.

As for my relationship with my parents... Let's say things are different, but the distance imposed on us did me good. I had finally started to live for myself, and many things had changed in my life. As for them, they were content because my results were excellent, and they could see that I had gained autonomy and maturity since my departure.

Anyway, two years had passed, and my life had changed a lot, but I was so happy to finally be back in Boston.

"Yeah, I know," I said, chuckling. "I can't wait to see you and the others," I said, turning around to lie on my back in my bed.

"We'll have to organize a party for your return!" Julia screamed in my ears.

"No, Ju, please, that's enough," I said, moving the phone away from my ear a bit, which she had just shattered again.

"Huh huh, anyway, you don't have a choice. Mom's not here for 3 days, and it's perfect for the party we're going to have when you get back!" She said, emphasizing the word 'party.'

"Juliaaaa!" I said, sighing. "Who are you even planning to invite to this party? It's not like I had a hundred friends back in high school," I said, laughing.

"We don't care, y/n. Who would refuse a party in a big house during summer vacation? I'll invite our group of friends and then check with the old art group from high school." She started to say, "Oh, and why not the football team! And the lacrosse team and the school mascot! Oh my god, I wonder if he still has his costume; that would be hilarious!" She said, laughing.

The Lacrosse team, Chris.

From that moment on, my mind went on pause, and I didn't really pay attention to what Julia was saying.

It had been so long since I had heard about him. After my departure, I hadn't received any news from him. And it was my fault. Every time Julia tried to talk to me about him, I immediately shut down. I thought with time the pain would fade, but it was false. Four months after my departure, my heart still bled as much as the last time he passed by my window. I had done everything to stop thinking about him and turn the page, and I had done it so well that I almost forgot that by returning to Boston, I would also be returning to him.

"Y/n, are you listening?" Julia said, raising her voice, bringing me back to reality.

"Huh? What? Sorry, Julia, I'm exhausted. I think I need to rest for tomorrow; the journey will be long. Can I call you back later?" I said, stuttering a bit, still destabilized by my thoughts.

"Yeah, sure, don't worry. See you tomorrow. Love you, bye," she said warmly.

"Love you, bye," I said with a small smile before hanging up and placing my phone next to me.

Chris.

Is it normal that my heart still bleeds so much for a high school crush? Am I just too sensitive? Is it because he's the only man I've ever let into my heart until now?

Questions kept piling up in my mind, and no matter how much I shook my head, they wouldn't leave me.

Anxiety eventually took over the excitement. What will happen if we see each other again? Will we even meet? Does he still think about me too? Is his heart still bleeding as well? Did he drown in sorrow when our story ended?

More and more questions. I better close my eyes; tomorrow is a big day...

_______

My morning passed extremely quickly. I woke up a bit late, so I was in a hurry. I got ready quickly, gathered my things, and said goodbye to my roommate not to miss my flight.

My parents picked me up at the airport, and I didn't expect warm hugs, but it was still hurtful to barely get a 'how are you?' The whole ride to the house was filled with discussions about my results and how my life was going there.

It had been a while since I saw them, so I just decided to suck it up, smile, and play the perfect little girl I always portrayed in Boston.

"No, I'm just saying that just because your results are satisfactory doesn't mean you don't need extra courses, you know, those things look good on your record," my mother continued to ramble when we finally arrived home.

God, this journey felt longer than my high school years!

"Yeah, I know, Mom. I'll think about it; can we discuss it later? I'm tired," I said before leaving the car.

Once my suitcase was unpacked, I thought I would have a moment of respite to finally collapse into my bed and rest from this exhausting start to the day. But that was without counting on the stormy arrival of my best friend.

"Y/NNNNN!!!" she screamed, rushing towards me to hug me.

With fatigue and confusion, it took me a few seconds to realize it was indeed her standing in front of me, and suddenly, I felt overwhelmed by my emotions. Tears started to well up, blurring my vision.

"Oh my god, Ju'!" I said, stammering and nervously laughing.

"If you start crying, you know I'll cry too, so stop that right now," she warned me, furrowing her brows not to start crying herself.

"Sorry, sorry!" I said, chuckling and wiping my eyes. "I missed you so much!!" I said, shaking my hands before hugging her again.

I spent the rest of my day with her, talking about everything that had changed in my life since my departure, and for the first time in a long time, I felt genuinely good.

I felt like I was recharging, regaining all the positive energy I had been missing.

"Anyway, you know me; I wasn't going to let a jerk like him talk to me like that. So, I preferred to end our relationship, and it's for the best!" Julia told me.

She had just told me about her latest relationship with one of the lacrosse team players from our high school, and as usual, I couldn't help but think of him.

"Are you sure everything's okay, y/n? Since I started talking about Tom, I feel like you're not really here anymore?" she asked, concerned.

"No! Well, yes, it's okay; don't worry. It's just that—" I began to say before cutting myself off with a sigh. "It's nothing; it's just my return here made me rethink everything that happened before I left," I confessed.

"You mean what happened with Chris?" she said, giving me a sympathetic look. "Sorry, I know we're not supposed to talk about him. Excuse me, I forgot—" she added before I interrupted her.

"No, Julia, it's fine; it's okay. I'm better; I assure you it doesn't bother me anymore," I lied, smiling and grabbing her hand. "I'm better, I promise it doesn't bother me anymore," I lied.

"You know I love you," she said, smiling and squeezing my hand.

"Yeah, I know, I love you too," I replied, chuckling.

After this little discussion, Julia stayed overnight at my place. I eventually gave in and agreed to have the party at her house.

Deep down, I had a bit of hope to come across Chris. I know I shouldn't, but it's stronger than me...

I mean, I would like to know what he's become. Has he continued with lacrosse? Did he go to university? Or has he found a job he's passionate about? Does he still smoke? Has he rebuilt his life with other girls after me?

In a way, I wanted to know to reassure myself that he was doing better and that what I did didn't hurt him too much.

But on the other hand, selfishly, I hoped he had waited for me, that he hadn't seen other girls, and that he was still hoping, just like me, that one day we would meet again.

And God, I know how contradictory it is of me to hope for that when that night I made it clear to him that there would be no chance of things working out. But no matter how much I fought against what I wanted, I knew that my heart was still in his hands, and his alone.

I hate myself for being so stupid and not being able to move on, even though it was just a relationship between two completely lost teenagers for a few weeks.

But I had never experienced anything so genuine. Every conversation, every look, every caress, and every kiss haunt me...

They're still there in a corner of my mind, even though I try to push them away and tell myself it's for the best. My soul screams at me to find his. Maybe that was my punishment—for making him believe that our story could last, for making him believe that the girl he truly loved existed when it wasn't the case.

_________

"Are you sure it doesn't bother you that the lacrosse team is here tonight?" Julia asked me for the hundredth time today.

After our little pajama party at my place last night, we went to her place in the afternoon to prepare for the party tonight.

We were finishing getting ready, and people were supposed to arrive any minute.

"Ju', as I've repeated to you throughout the day, it's fine, it doesn't bother me. And besides, if you don't invite the lacrosse team, what excuse will you find to invite your little Tom and make him regret it?" I said mockingly to tease her.

"Ahaha, very funny. You know very well that I would have found a way, one way or another, to make him regret it!" she added, giving me a playful punch on the shoulder, making me chuckle.

"No, more seriously, y/n, if you're not ready to see Chris tonight, I don't mind kicking the lacrosse team out of the party," she added, becoming serious again.

I sighed before responding, "You know, anyway, I can't ignore him for the rest of my life."

"Julia, I know you're worried about me, but it's behind me, I promise it'll be fine," I reassured her with a reassuring smile.

She began to open her mouth to reply, but she was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell at the entrance.

"Well, it looks like the party is about to start!" she said all hysterical, and I followed her downstairs to welcome the first people.

In the span of thirty minutes, the house filled with teenagers ready to have a blast.

There were mostly people from our old high school; we barely knew half of them, but as Julia had told me, no one refuses a party in a big house like hers during the summer vacation.

It quickly turned into chaos; people were absolutely everywhere, and bottles of alcohol were aplenty, but still no sign of Chris on the horizon.

The party was in full swing; it was almost midnight, and in my despair of not seeing Chris show up, I ended up giving in and joining the game like everyone else, downing drinks one after another, which was not really in my usual habits.

Maybe it was better this way; the more alcoholic beverages passed through my throat, the less Chris haunted my mind. After all, maybe that was my solution.

"Oh, shit, sorry!" I said, bumping into a guy with my head down, making him drop his phone.

I bent down to pick it up before him, and when I raised my head, I came face to face with a face I knew all too well.

"Y/n?" the tall brunet said, looking surprised.

It took me a few seconds to realize it was indeed Matt in front of me.

Chris's brother...

"Oh my god, Matt," I said, surprised. "You're the last person I expected to see tonight!" I said, chuckling.

"And I thought you were on the other side of the country!" he said, also chuckling before opening his arms to hug me.

"What are you doing here?" he asked once our embrace was over.

If I had been a little more sober, this situation would probably have worried me, but at the moment, I was just happy to see him. Matt and I had spent very little time together, but just enough for meeting him at this party to make me super happy.

"I came back for the holidays," I replied, smiling.

"Oh, that's great," he said, smiling too. "You could have at least let us know!" he added, laughing.

"Hey, relax, I just arrived yesterday," I said, rolling my eyes.

Our conversation quickly ended, giving way to an awkward silence. So, without really thinking, I asked him the first question that came to my mind, "Did you come alone ?"

"Oh, um..." he began to say before taking a pause, as if he didn't really know if he should continue or not. "No, I came with my brothers," he said, clearing his throat and running his hand over his neck.

Chris is here.

Suddenly, everything clicked in my head; it was obvious how stupid my question was.

My head started spinning; alcohol seemed to take hold of me even more. It was as if realizing he was there for real had suddenly spiked my blood alcohol level.

"Are you okay, y/n?" he said, placing his hand on my shoulder, looking worried as he saw me pale.

"Um, yeah - yeah, don't worry, I'm just - I've had a bit to drink, you know, it's not really my thing!" I said with a nervous laugh, trying to hide my distress at the moment.

"Do you want me to get you a glass of water? Or something else? I'm sorry if it's me who put you in this state by talking about—" he started to say before I cut him off.

"No! - Matt, it's fine, everything's okay, it's not your fault. I'm just, I just need some fresh air, that's all," I added.

"Um, okay, do you want me to come with you?" he asked, and I could feel how uncomfortable he felt for me at that moment, and that was really the last thing I wanted.

"That's really nice, Matt, but it's okay, thank you. I'll be fine," I told him with a smile before walking towards the exit.

As I moved through the crowd, I prayed not to run into Chris. I didn't want to see him. I thought I was ready and that it was what I needed, but the state I am in right now proves otherwise.

Fuck this shit, I'm going to need more alcohol for sure to handle this.

In my rush towards the exit, I grabbed the first bottle of alcohol I saw lying around, whiskey - it couldn't get any harder.

Damn, will I ever manage to move on? Am I destined to feel like this for the rest of my days?

Finally reaching the front door, I felt my eyes fill with tears, making my vision completely blurry.

Once outside on the porch, I placed the bottle on the small coffee table there, sat on the outdoor couch, and allowed a few tears to flow.

I could hear the muffled sound of music inside, and paradoxically, the cicadas and the silence of the night outside.

A few minutes ago, I was fine, happy, enjoying the party with my friends, and it took me going back to thinking about him to ruin everything.

Physically, I wasn't doing that bad; I didn't feel the need to vomit or anything. I just had a bit of a spinning head and trouble standing up.

Mentally, though, it was a different story.

My sobbing was interrupted by a noise coming from a little further in the garden.

I raised my head with a start to scan the surroundings, wiping away my tears. I especially didn't want anyone to see the only girl crying at this party. I was already not considered a cool girl at school, but this would have been the icing on the cake.

There shouldn't be anyone outside; Julia had made it clear that she didn't want anyone in her mom's garden.

I spotted a silhouette in the dark, and eventually, I caught the smell of a joint. So, I sighed before getting up to get closer.

"Get out of here, idiot! Julia doesn't want anyone in her garden. It's not that complicated to follow such a simple rule," I shouted at the stranger, rolling my eyes.

He approached me until he reached the point where the porch light could illuminate him.

I took a step back, completely thrown off when I recognized his face.

"Sorry, I just got here. I didn't know we weren't allowed to hang out in the garden," he replied softly, keeping a reasonable distance from me.

"Chris?" that's all that could come out of my mouth at that moment; I was completely bewildered. What was I supposed to do at that moment?

My tears started to flow again, and I couldn't do anything to stop it.

Chris stood there, not saying anything. He was as lost as I was at that moment, but I could see that seeing me cry was far from a pleasant thing for him.

He seemed hesitant, shook his head, and muttered to himself, rolling his eyes, "Fuck this."

The next moment, he took me into his arms, letting my head rest against his chest. It was as if he understood without me needing to express myself.

I broke down, letting my tears flow; that's what I needed—his arms around me. He held me tight, and I simply didn't want this moment to end. With my right hand, I clung to his t-shirt as if my life depended on it.

"Y/n, shhhh," he whispered, caressing my hair when my breathing became irregular due to my sobs.

I couldn't breathe; I felt suffocated. The more tears that fell, the worse it got, but, on the other hand, it felt good. All these emotions I had buried, all these tears I had prevented from flowing, were finally coming out.

"Y/n, calm down," he said, grabbing my cheeks with his hands and bringing his face to mine to look me in the eyes.

"Hey, look at me, look at me, breathe, everything's fine," he reassured me, stroking my cheek with his thumb.

"I-I'm so—" I tried to speak, but I couldn't stop crying.

"I'm so sorry, Chris," I said with a broken and fragile voice, shaking my head.

"Y/n, it's okay, stop," he said, pinching his lips, and I could see tears welling up in his eyes, despite his efforts to suppress them.

"What I did—" I started, trying to calm down, "what I did to you—I had no right to do that. I'm sorry, Chris," I said, letting my head fall once again against his chest and starting to cry even harder.

"Y/n," he said, seizing my face again to look at me, "Y/n, I’m not mad at you. Look at me, I'm fine, everything's fine; it's behind us."

"It's not behind me, Chris," I told him, shaking my head and stepping back.

"It's not behind me at all. It continues to eat me up inside every day! I tried for two years!" I told him with a forced laugh, wiping my tears. "Two years, Chris, two years trying everything to get you out of my head and to stop hoping that things would go back to normal!" I added.

"Y/n—" he said, passing his hand over his face before I cut him off.

"How can you not resent me after what I did to you!?" I said, completely lost.

"Because that's life, y/n!" he said, raising his voice and advancing towards me.

"Because people come in and out of your life, tearing your heart out against their will!" he added, and I just closed my mouth; I didn't expect him to express himself like this.

"Y/n, I could have chosen to hate you, yes, it's true! I could have chosen to keep acting like an idiot and keep destroying myself slowly, as I did in the first months after you left!" he continued to say, carried away by his emotions.

"But what would it have served? What would it have served to keep making the same mistakes all my life?" he asked, and I simply nodded, dumbfounded.

"Y/n, I tried to hate you to make the pill go down more easily, believe me. But how could I hate a girl like you?" he asked, tears in his eyes.

"How could I hate the only woman who managed to open my heart and show me that there's always hope?" he continued, this time advancing towards me, and my heart started racing in my chest.

"I got my act together because you deserved someone better. You deserved to know that I was doing well, and I knew! Believe me, I knew how much you blamed yourself," he said, wiping my tears.

"That night when you told me straight in the eyes that you no longer loved me and that you no longer believed in us, I knew you were lying to protect me," he said, and I felt tears flowing again.

"You lied to me to protect me without even thinking about yourself. You put me before you, where no one had done it before," he continued, tapping his chest.

"Chris—" I said with a weak voice.

"No, I don't blame you, y/n. I don't blame you because I know you simply didn't have the choice to do that," he said, wiping my tears.

"And these last two years, I lived in doubt because I wasn't sure 100%, but when I saw your gaze on this porch, all my doubts flew away, and now I know," he said, plunging his eyes into mine.

I looked into his eyes; I had managed to regain normal breathing, and everything he had just told me had calmed my heart.

The open wound in my chest, bleeding and letting all my distress pour out, was closing.

I didn't know what to add; I didn't know what to say to him. It felt like a million things were happening in my mind, but what could it possibly mean?

And then my thoughts escaped my mind, fixating on his blue eyes, his pure eyes, his sincere gaze fixed on me.

I had forgotten how beautiful this man was.

I became aware of his warm hands on my cheeks; my heartbeat quickened, and I thought I saw a glint of desire growing in his eyes.

The silence became heavy, yet neither of us wanted to say anything.

Our faces slowly approached, and my eyes juggled between his and his lips.

What was happening? Was it supposed to be good? Or bad?

I wanted to throw myself at him, yes, but was it correct? Was it the alcohol? Did I misinterpret what was happening?

"Chris—" I said in a soft, almost inaudible voice before he closed the gap between our lips.

Shivers ran through my entire body; it was soft and so good.

His soft lips moved perfectly against mine.

One of his hands resting on my cheek slid down to the small of my back.

Meanwhile, my two hands found their place on his chest, and our kiss deepened.

This kiss, originally meant to say ‘welcome home’, quickly became more profound.

Our tongues collided; things escalated. The hand that rested on my waist descended to grip my hip, while one of my hands left his chest to settle on the side of his neck.

I felt something reignite in me, something I hadn't felt in a very long time: desire.

I became aware of what was happening, and I snapped out of this trance by stepping back and opening my eyes.

I caught my breath before telling him, "Chris."

"I'm sorry," he said, catching his breath too.

"We can't do this; we can't revisit this. I'm back in Boston only for the holidays," I said, shaking my head, trying to think of something else.

"Sorry, I don't know what came over me; I shouldn't have." he said, running his hand through his hair.

"It's okay," I said, stepping towards him and placing my hand on his shoulder.

"I just found you again when I didn't think I'd have this chance; I want to do things right," I confessed.

"So, does that mean we're friends now?" he asked, and his question tore at my heart because, of course, I didn't want to be just friends. But things were too complicated for us to allow anything more.

"Yes, it means we're friends," I said, smiling slightly, and he returned a smile.

"I missed you," he said, hugging me.

"Missed you too," I replied, "feels like it's been ages since we last caught up," I added, chuckling.

"You must have hundreds of things to tell me then," he said, separating and smiling.

"I don't want to spoil your evening with my stories; it can wait," I told him, running my hand through my nape.

"Y/n, I went out to smoke a joint alone because this party is really lame," he said, rolling his eyes, "so believe me, I'd rather sit here with you and listen to everything you have to tell me."

"Hey, it's my comeback night, you're not allowed to say it's lame!" I told him, offended, giving him a shoulder punch.

"Okay, okay, sorry!" he said, laughing, before sitting on the couch, and I followed suit.

He took a joint out of his pocket, and before lighting it, he turned to me. "Hmm, want some?"

"Oh no, thanks, I'll stick to this tonight," I said, grabbing the bottle I'd left on the small table.

"Whiskey?" he said, surprised, "who are you?" he joked.

"Shut up, idiot, I grabbed the first bottle I came across on my way here," I said, rolling my eyes.

The conversation flowed naturally between us; it was almost as if we had never been apart. Of course, in two years, both he and I had changed a lot, so it was a bit strange. However, that connection, that complicity we had, seemed intact.

I'm not sure how long we stayed on that porch, talking, but the bottle I had drunk was already half empty, and Chris must have been on his third joint since the beginning of our conversation.

"I can't believe you told him that!" Chris said, laughing.

"I warned you; I'm not the helpless little girl I used to be," I replied, chuckling and shrugging.

"Yeah, I saw that," he said, gradually stopping his laughter.

The silence returned, and I was lost in my thoughts, already quite tipsy and in a curious mood.

I had been hesitating for several minutes, debating whether to ask him a question. The more I drank, the more I wanted to ask, even though I knew it wasn't the best idea.

"Chris?" I finally said softly, breaking the silence.

"Hmm?" he simply replied, turning his head towards me.

"Can I ask you a question?" I asked him timidly.

"You just did," he said with a smirk.

"No, seriously, stop it!" I said, laughing and giving him a shoulder punch.

He straightened up, turning completely towards me, resting his head on his hand with his arm leaning against the top of the couch. "Seriously, I'm listening," he said, still with that sly smile.

His eyes were red and squinted because of the weed, and I won't lie, it made him quite sexy... or maybe I had had a bit too much to drink; what was I even saying?

"Have you dated other girls since we broke up?" I asked, instantly regretting it.

"Y/n—" he began before I cut him off.

"Sorry, that was a dumb question. I don't know what got into me," I said, hiding my face with my hands.

He chuckled at my action. "It's okay; I don't mind answering if you answer too..." he said, shrugging.

I removed my face from my hands to look up at him.

"But are you sure you really want to hear my answer?" he added.

I just nodded.

"I've slept with other girls, yes," he began, and I cut him off without thinking.

"How many?" I asked, sitting up.

"I don't really know, two or three, but they were just casual things, especially at the beginning when I needed to distract myself," he explained, feeling the need to justify himself.

"Okay... and why?" I asked.

"Why what?" he asked, confused.

"Why casual? In two years, you had plenty of time to find another amazing girl to be with. You can't make me believe that as the first one to fall for you, no other girl wanted you," I said, rolling my eyes.

"I didn't want to..." he confessed to me. "I— " he started before sighing, "I'm not sure if it's a good idea to explain why," he said, looking away.

"No, tell me; I want to know now," I urged him.

"Y/n," he said, looking me in the eyes.

"Chris, please, it's okay; we're just talking," I said, eager to know more.

"None of those girls were comparable to you," he admitted, "and I know it sounds silly, but it's just the truth. I couldn't get interested in those girls, and it wasn't their fault; they were interesting, and in another context, it might have worked with them," he said honestly.

"But my mind kept comparing them to you; none of them talked like you," he started saying, "none of them laughed like you," he added.

"None of them kissed like you," he said, looking at my lips, and I felt my panties dampen at that. Fuck.

"Every time I slept with another girl, I couldn't help but think of you, your body, and your moans," he said, lost in his thoughts.

"I couldn't stop thinking about how your lips wrapped so perfectly around me," he said, and I had to slightly open my mouth to get more air.

He shook his head, snapping back to reality. "Anyway, until now, I haven't been able to settle down with another girl because the only one I have in my mind is you," he said shyly.

I stared at him, mouth agape. I was dying to have him; everything he just told me had me way too excited.

"And you?" he asked, bringing me out of my thoughts.

"What?" I said, clearing my throat.

"And you, have you dated other guys?" he said, chuckling.

"Oh!" I said, blushing. "No, none," I replied timidly.

"None?" he repeated, surprised, and I simply shook my head from side to side.

"And how many guys have you slept with then?" he asked.

I took a moment to answer, embarrassed by the situation.

"Y/n, it's okay; you can tell me. I just told you mine!" he said, rolling his eyes.

"I-" I said before sighing and biting my lip, and he furrowed his brows.

"None..." I said softly.

His eyes widened at my response.

"Are you serious?" he asked to make sure.

"Stop it; you know very well that I'm not the type to sleep around," I said, feeling awkward.

"No, I know that; it's just hard for me to conceive that you've managed two years without sex," he said with a smirk.

"Wait, what does that mean?" I said, furrowing my brows.

"Y/n, when we were together, you played the innocent a lot, but you can't deny that you were just as horny as I was, if it’s not more…" he said, laughing.

"Chris!" I said, bringing my hand to my mouth before chuckling as well.

"No, I'm not saying it's a bad thing; on the contrary, it was something I loved about you," he said honestly.

"I even found it rather sexy..." he added, shrugging.

I squeezed my thighs together at that moment, and Chris noticed because I saw his eyes leave mine and land on my thighs.

"We should change the subject," I said, taking a deep breath and running my hands over my thighs, a bit embarrassed.

"Sorry, I didn't know it would have that effect on you," he said, unable to help but smile.

"It's okay," I said, biting my lip.

We looked at each other for a moment, both feeling a bit awkward.

His eyes briefly shifted to my chest, and that was the last straw for me.

Without thinking twice, I straddled him, immediately connecting our lips. He didn't waste a second to put his hands on my hips, making me moan.

He took the opportunity to slide his tongue into my mouth, and I started rocking my hips against him, making him groan in response.

His hands came to grip my hips to stop my movements, eliciting a frustrated groan from me.

"Y/n, this isn't right," he said, separating our lips.

"Chris, I don't care," I said, reconnecting our lips instantly. I was too hungry to stop there.

My hip movements resumed, and I could feel his erection through his jeans.

My hands were on his cheeks, and his hands firmly held my hips.

"You said we should do things right and that we were friends," he said, separating our lips again.

"Y/n, you've been drinking, and I don't want it to be something you regret tomorrow," he added.

"Some friends sleep together sometimes..." I said innocently, playing with his necklace.

He bit his lip and looked away. If there was one thing that could make this man weak, it was my way of acting innocently with him.

"Y/n," he said, closing his eyes and letting out a frustrated groan.

I knew I could make him crack; I just had to tease him enough.

I buried my head in his neck to kiss and leave a few love bites.

He tossed his head back to give me better access. "Fuck..." he whispered, and I slowly resumed my hip movements.

"Y/n, stop this," he said weakly, still with his fingers dug into my hips.

"Make me stop," I whispered in his ear before leaving a trail of kisses on his jawline.

"Y/n," he said in a firm voice this time, grabbing me by the neck to make me face him. "Don't play with my nerves like that."

"Chris, please," I said, gripping the wrist of the hand around my neck.

"I'm the one asking you. It's just a favor we're doing each other as friends," I said with a slight moan. "You help me fill the void I've felt for 2 years, and I give you the opportunity not to have to just imagine fucking me for once," I added.

"You said it yourself, no girl moans like me, no one kisses you like me, and their lips don't wrap around you as well as mine do," I continued to convince him.

"It's just a one-time thing. After that, I swear we'll be just friends for real, please, Chris, I need you," I pleaded.

I don't know if it was the alcohol or simply the lack of sex, but I never thought I'd be capable of saying such things to a guy in my life.

"Just a one-time thing?" he asked.

"Just a one-time thing," I replied, nodding.

"Fuck, this is so fucking wrong, y/n. What are you doing to me?" he said before kissing me again without removing his hand from my neck.

He slid his hand under my dress to grab my ass and massage it while helping me grind against him.

"Mmph, Chris," I moaned into our kiss.

"Shhhh," he said, slapping my ass.

I started pulling at his T-shirt to signal that I wanted him to take it off.

"Not here, princess," he said, smiling against my lips before separating them. "Stand up," he ordered, and I obeyed.

He stood up as well, firmly grabbing my hand before guiding us inside.

We quickly made our way through the crowd, passing by Nick, who tried to stop us, but Chris simply ignored him, too busy at that moment trying not to bend me over one of the tables in the house to fuck me in front of everyone.

We climbed the stairs, and Chris opened the first door he saw, which happened to lead to Julia's room. If she finds out about this, she's going to kill me.

He slammed the door shut behind us, making sure to lock it.

Then, he pressed me against that door, tightening his grip around my neck just enough to restrict the blood flow, causing my head to spin.

He wasted no time in forcefully removing my dress, it was so abrupt that he could have torn it if he wanted.

"Chris, be careful, take it easy," I said, chuckling, before he silenced me with yet another kiss.

"Don't ask me to fucking take it easy when you've spent the last 10 minutes teasing me on that damn couch, y/n," he said, removing his T-shirt.

He took off my bra, adding, "I fucking missed you."

The next moment, he slid his hands to the back of my thighs and lifted me, making me moan in surprise. It seemed like the hold he had on me back then hadn't changed.

He reconnected our lips, heading towards the bed where he tossed me, making me moan again from the sudden force.

"Chris," I sighed in a heated breath as I sat up, facing him at waist height.

But before I could reach for his belt to undress him, he violently pushed me back. "You'll move when I tell you to move. Have you forgotten your manners?" he said, a smirk playing on his lips.

His gaze was dark and intense; he could have threatened to kill me, and I would have moaned because of how much he affected me.

"Touch yourself," he ordered.

"What?" I said, feeling my face turn all red.

"Don't make me repeat myself; you heard me," he said authoritatively.

I swallowed hard before starting to take off my panties.

"I didn't tell you to remove your panties," he said, interrupting me.

"But—" I began to say before he cut me off.

"Is it so hard to be a good girl, Y/n? In two years, have you forgotten everything?" he said, shaking his head.

His words made me even wetter; I dreamed of one thing only: feeling him inside me.

"No, sorry," I said before starting to make circular motions on my clit through my panties.

He licked his lips, slowly removing his belt without taking his eyes off me.

"Stand up," he ordered.

Without hesitation, I stood up, still looking at him innocently in the eyes.

"You are so fucking beautiful, Y/n," he said, holding me by the chin.

His compliment made me immediately smile and blush.

"Your wrists," he asked, letting go of my chin, and I handed him my wrists.

With his belt, he tied my wrists together before kissing me.

He leaned towards me without breaking our lips to signal me to lie down on the mattress, which I did.

He separated our lips for a brief moment to press my arms above my head. "Don't move," he whispered before sliding his lips into my neck.

"My poor baby, I can't believe you've abstained for 2 years," he said before descending his kisses towards my chest.

"Now that I'm here, I'll take care of that for you, my princess," he said, circling one of my nipples with his lips to kiss it.

"Chris, please," I moaned, wriggling a bit.

"Shhhh, be patient, believe me, I won't stop there," he said before starting to descend his kisses towards my lower abdomen.

The closer he got to my thighs, the more I felt like I was losing my mind. It had been so long since I had felt that burning desire between my legs.

"Fuck, Chris, stop, please, I need you," I pathetically begged when he started to kiss my pussy through my panties.

He just chuckled at my pleas before removing my panties and diving his head between my legs.

He surrounded my clit with his lips, and I couldn't hold back the moans that escaped my mouth at that moment.

Lost in my own pleasure and especially completely carried away by the sensation of his tongue against me, I brought my two hands, still tied, to his hair to hold on.

He lifted his lips from me, making me raise my head towards him. "No, don't stop, Chris!" I said desperately.

"I told you not to move, Y/n," he reminded me, placing my hands back above my head.

"I'm sorry, I had—" I was interrupted in the middle of my sentence by his hands abruptly grabbing my waist to turn me over.

"What are you doing?" I said in a surprised moan when he grabbed my hips to put my ass in the air.

"This way, you'll have a much harder time moving," he said, and I could hear the smugness in his tone.

He kissed the base of my lower back, making me shiver, ensuring that my head remained pressed against the mattress below me.

He then placed a few kisses on my ass before resuming his work between my legs.

One of his hands kneaded my ass while he teased my entrance with the fingers of his other hand.

"Oh my—Chris," I said when he accelerated his tongue movements.

The sensation in my lower abdomen that I hadn't felt in so long was building up again; I was extremely close.

"C-Chris, I'm gonna cum," I moaned, burying my head in the pillow to try to muffle the sound of my moans.

"Give it to me, baby," he said, inserting two of his fingers into me and reconnecting his tongue to my clit.

"Fuck, Chris!" I exclaimed, feeling my legs tremble, and within seconds, my orgasm overwhelmed me.

Chris didn't detach his lips from me; he continued, and his fingers didn't slow down either. "Chris, I- I can't," I told him, breathless.

He detached himself from me at the sound of my words and turned me over again onto the mattress to kiss me.

I put my hands, still tied behind his neck, to bring him impossibly closer to me, which seemed to amuse him, judging by the way he smiled against my lips.

"You taste so fucking good, baby," he complimented me between our kisses, and I wrapped my legs around his waist.

I was still very sensitive, but I wanted more, I needed more.

So, I tightened my legs around his waist so that his erection pressed against my pussy.

"Are you that impatient?" he chuckled before reaching between our bodies to unbutton his pants, and I just nodded.

He straightened up to completely remove his pants and boxers before returning to position himself between my legs.

"If it hadn't been so long, I would've edged you for hours," he said, rubbing his tip against my thighs without entering.

"Chris, please, stop talking—" Before I could finish my sentence, he entered me without warning, making me moan in harmony with him.

"Oh my god, y/n, fuck, you're so—" I didn't let him finish his sentence, immediately capturing his lips in a passionate kiss.

He started moving inside me slowly, taking care to go all the way in with each thrust.

Our lips were still connected, our tongues perfectly synchronized—everything was perfect with him.

His pelvic movements accelerated, prompting me to throw my head back to moan once again.

"God, I'll never get tired of the sounds you make. Fuck, it's too good," Chris said, moaning as well, his head completely immersed in my neck, where he left fiery kisses.

"Chris—mmph," I started to speak but couldn't formulate my words correctly. Chris fucked me so well that I lost my words.

"What, baby? What do you want?" he said, seizing my chin to make me look into his eyes.

"I want to—fuck!" I said, moaning and closing my eyes. I felt him everywhere in me; it was too good.

"You can do it, sweetheart. Take your time," he said with a smirk, not slowing down.

"I want to touch you," I said, moaning again. "Please, Chris, I need to feel you," I begged.

He momentarily straightened up without pulling out to unfasten the belt around my wrists.

"Here you go, baby," he said in a soft voice before kissing me again.

This time, my hands went into his hair, neck, and back. I dug my nails into his back and biceps, completely controlled by my pleasure, and began to feel all these sensations invade me.

"Chris, oh my god, I'm so close!" I whined.

He sat up on his knees without pulling out. I moaned as he grabbed my legs and pulled them closer, penetrating even deeper.

"Mmmh, Chris," I moaned, raising my head to look at him.

"Shhhh," he said, placing my legs on either side of his head and encircling my knees with his arms to make sure I couldn't move.

He began thrusting into me at an unbearable speed, and the new angle allowed him to go really deep. His eyes were fixed on the lower part of my belly, where he could see himself entering and exiting. "Fuck," he exclaimed, keeping his mouth open.

"Chris! Chris, fu—god, don't stop!" I said, feeling my orgasm hit me hard when I started clenching around him. He spread my legs again to kiss me while still penetrating me, allowing me to ride out my orgasm.

He gradually stopped his pelvic movements while continuing to kiss me. Our kiss was tired and messy, but he didn't stop there.

We were both catching our breath. He separated our lips, pressing his forehead against mine. We stayed like that for a few seconds before he straightened up and withdrew from me, making me moan because I was still extremely sensitive.

I expected anything but what he did the next second. He grabbed me by the hips and turned me over again, pushing me on all fours.

"Chris, what—" Before I could finish my sentence, he started pounding into me without mercy, making me cry out in surprise and pleasure.

"Oh my fuck, Chris, I can't!" I told him, burying my head in the pillow once again.

"Yes, of course, you can. I know you have one more for me," he said without slowing down this time, bringing his fingers to my clit, making my eyes roll back in my head.

It felt so good, but I was still too sensitive; he didn't give me enough respite. I felt like my heart was going to give out from the intensity. I couldn't help but moan, even though I was unsure if I really wanted him to stop because I could already feel my third orgasm approaching.

"Do you really want me to stop?" he said in my ear, slowing down and pressing his chest against my back.

When he slowed down, I felt my orgasm slipping away, and I thought I was losing my mind. "No! Don’t stop, I can take it!" I said, shaking my head.

He wrapped his arm around my throat to hold me in place "that's my girl," he said and sank his teeth into my shoulder, mixing pleasure and pain in the best way possible. He sped up again, his fingers massaging my clit, and his shaft going as deep as possible, making me see stars.

I was close, and so was he; I could feel it in the way he moaned. "Y/n, oh my—"

"Chris, I'm so close," I cried, feeling my orgasm on the verge of exploding.

"Give it to me, baby. Fuck, cum for me, princess," he said, and that was all I needed to climax. This one was more intense than the others, stronger and more hypnotic.

After a few more thrusts, Chris also came, moaning my name in my ear. "Oh my god," he said, breathless, before pulling out and collapsing beside me.

I didn't move a muscle, too exhausted from everything that had just happened. "Are you okay, baby?" he asked, concerned, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Yes, I'm fine. I just need to catch my breath," I replied, chuckling.

He laughed too before getting up to find something to clean me up. After a few minutes catching my breath in Chris's arms, we decided to get dressed and join our friends downstairs before someone noticed our absence.

And when I say someone, I obviously mean Julia, who will probably kill me when she finds out I slept with Chris in her bed.

Before leaving Julia's room, Chris kissed me one last time. "I missed you so fucking much," he said.

I chuckled before replying, "I missed you too, but we need to leave this room now." I said playfully, giving him a playful punch on the shoulder.

We finally left the room, and our paths separated when we arrived in the living room because Nick needed to talk to Chris privately.

I was about to join my best friend when I felt someone grab my arm.

I turned to see who it was and found myself face to face with a girl with brown hair and light eyes.

"Who the fuck are you?" she asked me, full of rage.

I was completely confused because I didn't know this girl at all, and I didn't understand why she was addressing me this way.

"Hmm? Y/n, who are you?" I asked, furrowing my brows.

Her eyes widened when she heard my name, and she let out a fake laugh at my response.

"I'm Tess, Chris's girlfriend!" she said with a big smile before approaching me. "So I suggest you keep your distance from him if you don't want me to bash your little depraved slut face!" she said, pushing me before turning on her heel and walking away.

Chris's girlfriend?!!

What the fuck?

Taglist: @chrisloyalgf @christopherscamopants @blahbel668 @thematthewlover @mattsturnioloarchive @carolinalikesthings @bernardsgf @whicked-hazlatwhore @hearts4chris

[lavender--fairy]

𝐁𝐞 𝐀 𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐫

Fantasizing about your desires is one thing and applying what you've learned is another. You have to understand that you could acquire all the knowledge about the law, you can listen to every lecture Neville has ever held but unless and until you apply what you know the law is a total waste. That is why Neville openly invites people to test the law over and over again. I've been there too, i knew about SATS, i knew i should ignore the outer world, i knew i should accept imagination as the one and only reality but never applied and then would stress and be confused as to why the 3d wasn't reflecting my desires. If i'm being honest i've spend more time "thinking of" and fantasizing about my desires than "thinking from" and accepting them as fulfilled and that was the reason for my failure for a long time. You might be doing the same, all the posts you've saved, all the notes you've made...Are you applying what is being said there or you read and be like "wow this makes total sense" and then going back to the old story.

"Knowing what to do is one thing. Doing it is another; and we are called upon to be doers of the word, and not just hearers only, deceiving ourselves. You can read one of my books over and over again. You can tell others what the book says, but if you never apply it’s message, the mere reading of its word will not benefit you. But if you will test your imagination, it will prove itself in performance" -Neville Goddard

"But grant me the freedom to change it (my state)– don’t leave me in the state if I desire to get out of it. Yet many a person wallows in it, and wallows in it morning, noon, and night, and they are totally unaware they are doing it. They will say, “Oh, yes,” and then five seconds later they are back in that state (Old Man). I have had interviews with people who will say to me, “This is what I would like, but I must first tell you . . . .” Don’t tell me anything! Tell me what you want – they are only states! They insist on wallowing in all the things of the past." - Neville

"Don't tell me anything!" That is the secret. Total self-abandonment to the current State is the way to bring life towards the New State.You have to die to what you do not want to express entirely, a true act of surrender. You can do it.

This is how to know if you are "thinking of" or "thinking from"

I doubted that it could come to pass. I desperately wanted it to come but I doubted it could. I lived on "hope" which made me feel anxious. Why did I doubt? Because I would tell myself all the reasons why it could not happen, it seemed "too far-fetched." I looked to the outside all day long for signs or confirmation that what I want is either coming or is possible.

Now, this is thinking-of your desire. This is hoping it will come. Hope is a great thing. Hope is desire. But,

"hope deferred makes the heart go sick, but a desire fulfilled is the tree of life." - Pslam 13:12

Hope is your desire, but it up to you to fulfill it.

Now, let's look at the opposite. This is "thinking-from" your desire which will cause you peace and ease.

I know it will come to pass. I know it will because Consciousness is the only reality, and what I do in consciousness it will be duplicated here. You assume NOT for it to be so, but because it IS so. I only look within for confirmation. It is my Word over everything. If I say I Am within, then I Am. -Edward art (full post)

[aevallare]

excuses

light plot. heavy smut. mind the warnings. you can read on ao3 here

pairing: astarion/f!tav

word count: 4424

warnings: Aphrodisiacs, Semi-Public Sex, Squirting, Gags, Vaginal Fingering, Soft Dom Astarion, Wall Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Creampie, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Biting, Hand Kink, Inappropriate Use of Tadpole | Illithid Parasite Powers, Established Relationship, Rough Sex, Hair-pulling

preview:

“Go.” Auri's voice is hoarse. “This isn't your problem.”

Astarion's eyes narrow. “If you really think that I'm going to leave you here by yourself–”

“Astarion, please.” Again, Auri begs. “Something was wrong with that meat I ate. It feels infernal. Everything’s so warm. I can't–”

enjoy!!

-----

The orthon’s dead and his stronghold is now their camp for the evening. It’s a nice change from the usual; after barricading the entrance, they won’t even have to take watches. It’s well-fortified and Auri’s reasonably confident that they’ve wiped out anything in the immediate area that might want to kill them.

So spirits are light.

When Wyll jokingly tells her to lick the spider, Auri rolls her eyes at him. “Don’t be stupid. We’ll take it back to camp and cook it.”

Astarion won’t partake regardless, but he does afford her two raised eyebrows in response. Shadowheart grimaces and Wyll barks out a laugh that fades when Auri doesn’t join him.

“You’re joking,” Wyll says weakly. Auri sets her mouth in a line.

“There isn’t much else to eat down here.”

“Unless you’re Astarion,” Shadowheart snorts. It’s true enough, though it makes Auri blush. The marks on her neck are testament to that.

Wyll stares at Auri as she harvests meat from the spider with a dagger she pulls from her belt, and he says, “I’ll stick with what rations we have, I think.”

Auri shrugs. She ate worse when she was on the street. Her knife cuts into the spider’s corpse with a sickening crack through the exoskeleton before Astarion asks, “What are you doing?”

Auri looks up at him. “I told you I wasn’t going to let it go to waste.”

“No, that’s not–” Astarion pinches the bridge of his nose and crouches down next to her. “Move. You’re mutilating it.”

Auri’s barely started and he’s criticizing her. When he shoos her to the side with a flick of his wrist, Auri lets herself be dismissed. She stands, and behind them, Wyll and Shadowheart get to work setting up camp.

They’ve all long shed their armor. Astarion’s careful to push up the sleeves of his shirt before pulling a dagger of his own from his boot. The veins of his forearms thread down into his hands, thick and protruding, and as Auri watches, he gets to work.

“Did you moonlight as a butcher while you were a magistrate?” Auri asks.

Astarion exhales a laugh. “No, but as you might have guessed, taking things apart was an oft-used skill of mine after my time as a magistrate.”

The joke is dark, but Astarion doesn’t seem upset. In fact, he continues, “Are you really going to eat spider meat?”

“I put vampire in my mouth all the time and you never seem to complain about that.”

“True. Your exotic appetite is one of my favorite things about you.”

His dagger filets with grace; no movement is wasted. When he’s finally picked the spider clean, he looks up at her. The dagger’s still in his hand and he toys with it absently.

Auri’s always been enamored of his hands. Her own are calloused, roughened by years of playing every instrument she could get her hands on. They’re a lyrist’s hands. There’s nothing wrong with them; they’re nothing but tools.

His, though.

Astarion’s hands have never made music as far as Auri knows, but they make the world sing at his discretion anyway. Flesh and skin bow and warble at his fingers’ mercy, and gods know that her body’s sung under his touch more times than she can count.

Her hands are tools. His are art.

Astarion’s thumb brushes over the hilt of his dagger a final time before he stows it once more. Auri’s mouth is dry and it occurs to her that she’s staring. Astarion’s eyes catch hers and he smirks.

“See something you like, darling?”

His hand drifts up to push his hair out of his eyes. Auri’s gaze follows the movement like it’s a compulsion.

“Always,” she manages, and Astarion laughs for real then, a soft, secret thing that she’d never be graced with if Shadowheart or Wyll were nearby.

“Be careful staring like that. I might get the wrong idea.”

Auri blinks at him, finally pulled from the single-minded fixation she’s had on his hands. “What do you mean? We had sex just a couple of days ago–”

“Details.”

Auri gathers the meat in her hands and walks to the campfire. No one bothers her as she stokes the flames before skewering the meat on a sharpened stick and setting it to roast on the fire.

Shadowheart settles in next to her, and when she does, she wrinkles her nose. “That smells awful.”

“Everything down here smells awful–”

Astarion’s taken a seat and cracked open a book, but without looking up, he says, “You’re both right. This place absolutely reeks and that filth you’re cooking is making it worse.”

Wyll laughs. Auri frowns. Shadowheart huffs.

When the meat, for all intents and purposes, appears cooked, Auri pulls it from the fire. “You two are sure you don’t want any?” She looks at Wyll and Shadowheart in turn.

Wyll, at least, says, “No, thank you.”

Shadowheart just scoffs. “I’d rather starve.”

Auri shrugs. Her teeth tear through the spider meat, and if Auri doesn’t chew, it doesn’t taste so bad. Shadowheart’s grimace grows more and more disgusted, but Auri’s got a full stomach, so she doesn’t particularly care.

-----

There’s been little time to be unfocused in the Gauntlet of Shar. Everything is a potential or actual threat, and though he’s more or less convinced of their safety in this fortified pocket of ground that the orthon carved out for himself, Astarion still trances with a dagger in arm’s reach.

Still, his trance is light, and it’s been less than a day since he’s fed. He’s so much more when his senses are thrumming with Auri’s blood–

And it’s the sound of Auri that wakes him.

It’s a stifled, strangled, choking noise that pulls Astarion from his trance. It’s not close by, but he’d recognize Auri anywhere. It doesn’t sound like she’s in danger, exactly–

But Astarion slinks out from his tent anyway. Wyll and Shadowheart are nowhere to be seen; if he focuses, he can hear them both, breathing heavy with sleep in their tents. It’s hard to do that, though, when Auri’s gasping grows more and more labored.

So he follows it. And he finds her. And the reason she’s so far from camp isn’t hard to deduce once he does.

Auri’s slouched against a crumbling stone pillar. She’s managed to find a place free from bloodshed and gore, and her mind is entirely elsewhere (though she almost certainly wouldn’t have noticed Astarion anyway). From this angle it’s difficult to make much out, but Astarion doesn’t need to be able to see her in order to know what she’s doing.

Even from here, he can hear her ragged whimpering. He can smell the heat between her legs.

There’s something in Auri’s mouth, but when she slumps further down the pillar with a moan that dances on the line between relief and frustration, there’s no mistaking what she’s doing. She’s just made herself come, and she’s unsatisfied with the result.

She pulls the cloth from her mouth and whines, “Fuck.” Her body heaves and she fists both hands in her hair, leggings loose around her hips.

The idea of just watching her is appealing, but as Astarion looks on, tears prick at Auri’s eyes. He can see her bite the inside of her cheek in the way that she does when she feels that things are hopeless, and when he says, “I hope you don’t mind me saying, love, but you’ve looked better,” Auri doesn’t even startle. That’s when Astarion knows that something is truly wrong. He’d guessed, of course – there’s a feverish sweat beading on her brow and it’s unusual for her to wander off alone – but when she greets him without her usual bright smile, there’s no room left for doubt.

“Go back to camp. Please.”

There’s desperation in her voice. Astarion tilts his head to the side. “Darling–”

The pet name barely leaves his mouth before he feels her parasite push into his mind. It doesn't ask permission before it enters; Auri's lost control entirely. Astarion grunts in shock and then the assault of her tadpole on his comes into focus.

What afflicts her is lust incarnate.

“Please.” Auri struggles to form words but she tries anyway. “I'm not… myself. I can take care of this on my own. I swear.”

She's whimpering, filled with so much desire that it's causing her physical pain. When Auri tells him to leave, it's not for her own benefit. He can tell because of what the tadpole pushes into his mind, Auri's will be damned.

I could think about his hands forever. If he was the only one to touch me for the rest of my life, I'd be satisfied.

Astarion doesn't recognize what magic this is exactly, but her lust is unnaturally strong. “Not that I'm not flattered, but–”

There's a stone slab that was probably used as a table. I'm bent over it. Astarion's behind me and neither of us has bothered getting undressed. His cock pushes into me and when it does, there's finally some sense of relief. If it weren't for the gag, I'd scream loud enough to attract every enemy from here to the Underdark when he thrusts.

Astarion, suddenly, is also finding it difficult to form coherent thought.

“Go.” Auri's voice is hoarse. “This isn't your problem.”

Astarion's eyes narrow. “If you really think that I'm going to leave you here by yourself–”

“Astarion, please.” Again, Auri begs. “Something was wrong with that meat I ate. It feels infernal. Everything’s so warm. I can't–”

Auri lets out a muted moan. When Astarion steps forward, she does her best to shrink away, but the pillar she'd been using for support stops her. She doesn’t want to ask. She doesn’t want to put him in a position where he’d have to say yes or no.

He puts his palm on stone in the space next to her head.

“Would you feel better if I touched you?” Astarion asks.

Auri’s fingers shake. Her eyes flit between the hand that he isn’t using to support himself and his face.

“I don’t know,” she says. Her pulse throbs in her throat. “You don’t have to–”

He interrupts her, ignoring the latter half of her words. “Would you like to try?”

A sob wrenches itself from her body. “It’s the only thing I can think about.”

And at last, he won’t be the one at the mercy of her kindness. Maybe he’d feel used if it were someone else. But it isn’t. It’s her.

Astarion dips down to kiss her, and again, Auri’s lust pours into him. She bites at his lip greedily, hips bucking forward gracelessly into his.

When he pulls away, hand sliding beneath her waistband, Auri says, “The gag.”

Somehow, Astarion had forgotten about that. “The gag?”

Auri nods her head, a moment from falling apart without him even having touched any of the places she likes best. “The others– I don’t want the others to hear.”

When a finger slides inside her, Auri’s eyes roll to the back of her head. She’s warmer than usual, but other than that and the desire rolling off of her body, she doesn’t seem to be in any danger.

Yes. He can take care of this.

Astarion’s palm pushes up against her clit as his finger gets to work, and with his other hand, he pulls Auri’s makeshift gag up from around her neck. “What is this?”

“I stole a clean bandage from Shadowheart’s things. Another finger, please. It’s not enough–”

The Auri he’s used to is a tender thing, though she’s more than capable of playing rough. He punctuates the second finger that she asked for by stuffing the cloth bandage into her mouth. She was wet already; when the gag’s back in place, she clenches around his fingers.

“Do you want to talk or do you want me to take care of you?” he asks.

There’s fire in her eyes. Auri can’t speak, but the images she pushes into him are obscene. Astarion doesn’t even have time to process them all before he says, “Well, we can certainly try a few.”

Astarion feels the tension inside her play up with each touch. Her leggings have fallen to her ankles and the hand that’s not buried in her cunt massages her breast. He gives her nipple a delicate twist, and the strangled moan that escapes her is more than worth his trouble. The other breast falls prey to his mouth instead, and when he bites at the soft flesh there, Auri’s knees buckle.

“We can’t have that, love,” he says, and he heaves her leg up, the crook of her knee in his hand. She’s still technically wearing her leggings; they’re just in a pool around the leg still holding her to the ground. Auri’s eyes go wide at the new angle, but there’s no complaint. From here, Astarion can touch her easily, freely, and as his pace quickens, so too does her heart rate.

Please, Astarion– please–

The gag’s occupied her mouth, but she’s still able to beg through the parasite.

“I do love how you look when you come for me,” he says, and with his fingers hitched inside her, Auri shatters. It’s different from usual but no less entrancing, and for the briefest moment as Auri squirts into his hand, she almost looks like herself.

Her eyes are wide. Gods.

“That’s new,” he says, and Auri would probably laugh if the gag wasn’t still in her mouth. “Feel better?”

His cock’s hard, but that’s hardly the point of this venture.

Auri pauses before nodding, and maybe Astarion would believe it if her body language wasn’t completely at odds with her mind flooding him with the image of him spilling himself inside her as she's bent over the slab of stone that he can see from the corner of his eye. Astarion smirks, feathering his thumb over her hypersensitive clit as he pulls his fingers out from inside her. She whimpers for him, and he whispers in her ear, “Liar.”

This isn’t your problem, she says again.

Astarion licks the evidence of her orgasm from his hand. Her eyes lock onto the motion, and when he’s done, he lifts her into his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist.

“Unfortunately, without you around, my meal ticket disappears. So you are indeed my problem.”

She’s bare from the waist down. Auri’s slick enough that Astarion can feel it through his clothes. His cock’s already straining against his trousers.

She’s his problem in more ways than one.

When he lays her down on her back, he’s careful to make sure her shirt’s pulled down. The slab’s rough, unfinished, but she doesn’t seem to care. She sits up, pulling the gag from her mouth, and she says, “Let me.”

Auri reaches for the laces that will free his erection, but Astarion takes a step back so that he’s out of reach. He plucks the gag from her hand, and says, “I asked before. Do you want to talk or do you want me to take care of you?”

A shiver runs up her body and she doesn’t answer.

And that's answer enough, really. Well. That and the picture of him pulling her to the edge of the slab, bottoming out inside her, her breasts bare.

With painstaking restraint, Astarion exhales through his nose. “Oh, darling,” he says through gritted teeth. “Lie back for me, would you?”

If pressed, he’d admit it’s not the most graceful way he’s ever pulled out his cock, but it’s difficult to care when Auri is quite literally dripping in front of him. Her throat quivers and her fingers twitch; she’s doing everything she can not to touch herself, though Astarion’s not quite sure why.

He strokes himself thoughtlessly, like it’s the only natural course of action, but he won’t leave her wanting. This isn’t a night for games, although they’ve both been having fun despite her condition if the state of her thoughts is any indicator. When he dips down and presses a kiss between her legs, Auri cries out.

The gag’s still in his hand.

He fills her mouth with it in the same moment that he fills her cunt with his cock.

To distill Auri down into one word is impossible, but when he’s inside her, Astarion would struggle to name any adjective but warm. She’s a billion things, of course, not least of all naive, gullible, and foolhardy, but more than anything, she’s the essence of the sun made flesh. She’s made warmer still by whatever it is that’s afflicting her, but her body always leaves him in awe anyway.

A marvel of mortality.

When he thrusts into her, the gag swallows up a squeal that Astarion would frankly have liked to hear in its entirety. Auri’s hand reaches up behind her, nails scrabbling for purchase against unrelenting stone. When she turns her head to the side, saliva pools under her cheek, her eyes half-lidded. The underside of her breast teases him from beneath her shirt, and it’s like she was made for him–

Rip the shirt. I don’t care.

Somehow, even through her addled haze, she’s still thinking about his enjoyment. He could wonder at it, but he’d rather spend the time doing as she says. Astarion fists a hand in the front of her shirt and pulls her close. Auri’s head lolls backward before she regains the wherewithal to support herself, and before Astarion can second-guess himself, his fangs tear into her shirt enough that his hands can do the rest.

He takes a breast in his hand and squeezes as he pushes her down onto her back again, but not before he lifts her legs up onto either of his shoulders. Auri folds almost in half for him, his hips grinding against her clit as he buries himself fully inside her.

Frantic need and desire ripple through her, and if Astarion isn't careful, he'll lose control himself. The new position's made her tighter, and she's close. Astarion can feel it in the way her hips match his rhythm and from the desperate want in her eyes as her walls clench around him.

“My beautiful, depraved thing,” Astarion says, thrusting deep. It's impossible to keep his voice unaffected, but it doesn't matter. It has its intended effect anyway. “Look at you, those pretty tits bouncing as you take my cock. What would the others think if they saw you like this?”

Astarion–

“Their pretty little leader with her shirt torn open, bare on her back, coming for me again? It's a sight beyond compare.”

He won't spend himself inside her yet, though the temptation is certainly there. She's been pouring images of him fucking her into his head since they started, and this time, he returns the favor. When Auri sees herself as Astarion sees her, pupils blown out, blotchy all over, gag soaked through, she unravels. The parasite explodes with her orgasm; Astarion feels it rip through her like it's his own even as she spasms around him.

His own eyes roll back as Auri’s scream fights against the gag, but he doesn't come, and even as the climax is still rolling over her, Astarion hears her.

More– I'm sorry; I need–

She never asks for what she wants – not like this. Auri's always thinking of what he needs.

And she'd shown him before what she wanted.

“You need my cum, don't you? You want me to fuck you until I empty myself inside you?”

Whatever other thoughts she might have had go mute. Her eyes lock with his.

And this really isn't about him, but it occurs to Astarion that that's exactly what he wants, too.

He pulls his cock out from her and misses her warmth immediately, but it's a necessary evil. The beautiful thing about the tadpole and all the time that they’ve spent together is that they’re always a little bit in each other’s heads. The thought is terrifying if Astarion considers it too long, but it’s convenient that they’re on the same page about her scrambling off of the slab. Before she can readjust, Astarion presses his lips to her neck. That, too, makes her moan, and the echoes of her affection rattle along their connection.

I adore you, Auri says, and they could have done all this without Auri’s feverish state as an excuse, but it does remove an element of vulnerability that makes things much easier for Astarion.

The feeling’s mutual, though voicing it still makes his skin crawl. He doesn’t have the vocabulary for it anyway.

His fingers trail up her jawline. Auri’s eyes shine. “That’s my good girl,” he murmurs instead, and when she reaches down between his legs to take him in her hand, his nostrils flare.

She’s still the sun compared to him. Warmth radiates from her. His judgment’s impaired by his personal desire and the feeling of Auri’s hand on his cock, still slick from being inside her. Astarion’s eyes flutter shut.

Briefly, he registers that she isn't quite as warm as she was before, but there's no room for the thought.

Show me what to do, Auri says, as if she doesn't already know. It's the opposite of how this started, when she didn't want to put him in a position where he'd feel obligated to please her.

Auri's tadpole brushes up against his, and he'd known anyway, but it becomes crystal-clear.

Take what you want.

She makes him so fucking hungry.

In the fastest motion he can manage, Astarion pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the slab. The least he can do is make sure that it doesn’t mangle her.

Auri bites her lip as she releases him from her grasp, and Astarion wouldn’t say he’s being rough, but he certainly isn’t gentle when he turns her so her back’s flush with his chest. A thrill thrums through her, and then Auri’s bent over, upper body splayed across the stone.

When Astarion sheaths himself inside her again, it’s home. There’s no resistance. Auri’s body takes him like it’s what she was made to do.

There’s no patience left in him. Every time his hips meet the curve of her ass, he’s another moment closer to his own release. Auri whimpers and whines, and each sound that escapes the gag increases his pace. The freckles on her back are a constellation he’s rarely afforded the privilege of seeing while buried inside her, and his thrusts grow shallower, undisciplined–

Hells, Auri manages, half-coherent this time as he fucks her. Her singular word spurs something carnal in his gut, and he leans down, fisting a hand in her hair and pulling her face up and away from the slab.

When he does, she looks up at him from the corner of her eye. Her walls clench and his cock twitches as her gaze meets his, and she can’t really smile around the gag, but devilish pleasure is evident in her face.

He’s close. They’ve been in this position for barely a moment, but everything leading up to this moment has left Astarion close to undone as is. His grip on her hair tightens, and when she says, I can take whatever you give, Astarion’s last bit of self-control gives way.

He pulls her up, hand never releasing her hair, and when his other hand grips at her thigh, Auri knows what he wants. With only a little help from him, his cock never leaving her cunt, she kneels on the slab. Astarion exposes her neck and kisses the spot that’s his, the place he’s marked a hundred times over, and Auri shivers. Drink while you come in me– she starts, but his fingers interrupt her when they brush against her clit. Auri inhales sharply against the gag, airflow made more difficult by Astarion’s unloosened grip in her hair.

“Come for me again,” Astarion says. It’s almost a command but not quite, and Auri makes every desperate, needy sound all at once. His fingers rub at her clit, slow, deliberate, like he isn’t a hair’s breadth from shattering himself. “You taste better when you come.”

His touch quickens as he speaks, and he could lose himself in her. He already has.

Auri’s back arches, her ass pushing into him and her neck craning up until her head nearly rests on his shoulder. The artery in her neck sings its siren song, and Astarion’s not in the habit of denying himself what Auri’s body offers him.

This time when his lips meet her neck it’s a different kind of kiss, though it has Auri gasping anyway. Her saliva’s dripping down her neck in the same way her cunt drips cum around his cock. Auri’s blood pounds down Astarion’s throat as he fucks up into her, her climax pushing him to his own end. His teeth tear at her skin as he spills himself inside her, and Auri’s parasite radiates what he can only call unparalleled ecstasy.

Astarion doesn’t even want to think about what she can hear through his tadpole.

Auri shakes in his arms; her knees barely seem capable of supporting her. It’s always the hardest thing that Astarion’s ever done to pull his fangs from Auri’s flesh, and it’s made doubly difficult when he pulls his cock from her warmth at the same time.

“Alright, darling?” he asks, releasing her hair from his grasp. It’s a silly question. Astarion doesn’t know why he asks it.

Auri pulls the gag from her mouth and regards it with a look of disgust, dropping it to the ground. “When we do this again, can we get something a little more, erm–” Auri wrinkles her nose, but she hardly seems unhappy. “Dignified?”

“When we do this again?” Astarion teases, relacing his breeches. “Planning on eating more of that spider meat?”

When Auri turns to face him, she lets herself drop into a kneeling position. The adoration’s never faded from her eyes.

“If it gets you to fuck me like that, I’ll do just about anything.”

So, yes. She seems to be perfectly alright. Almost too alright.

Astarion’s eyes narrow.

“Whatever that was– it lost its grip on you after you came for me that second time, didn’t it?”

Auri smiles at him shamelessly. She’s made no move whatsoever to get dressed, entirely content to be here with him in a state that’s wholly vulnerable.

“We were having fun, weren’t we?” she asks.

Astarion laughs, soft and low.

“Yes. We were.”

[beauty-and-passion]

Lore Olympus: a golden mine of bad writing

As I said, one post wasn’t enough.

There is still a lot to say about this webcomic and in this post I would like to talk about how Zeus, Apollo and Kronos have been treated. Here I will focus on the first two acts only, because the third act is not over, as well as the story. And yes, that means I will write another post when this whole thing is over.

I wanted to focus on these three gods in particular because are treated in a way that baffles me and makes me question what did they ever do to Mrs. Smythe. Tell me, Rachel: was it something personal? Did they do something to your family? What happened?

But maybe you don’t understand my point, especially if you haven’t read the Greek myths at all and you think that these three are just “Unfaithful Guy”, “Rapist” and “Evil Villain Har Har Who Also Wants To Rape”. Seriously, what’s with this weird obsession with raping everyone and with sex? Did Mrs. Smythe ever see anything else in myths, besides sex?

So please, allow me to explain why their characterizations are wrong and boring - and no, not just from a mythological point of view. 

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Zeus: the walking clichè

Making Zeus an asshole is understandable, even if utterly boring and clichè. Oh wow, he's an unfaithful husband and he's vain. Very original. Groundbreaking, I'd say. I’ve never read about him being unfaithful to his wife, not even once in all the 200 million retellings made during the history of mankind.

It's a shame because Zeus is much more than that. He's a mighty ruler with a strong sense of justice: in several myths, he punished the assholes for their wrongdoings. He's very clever and strong. He's also associated with xenia, the custom of offering protection to strangers, which means Zeus is also a protector of foreigners.

I mean, this information alone offers so many new perspectives about him! Just imagine if, instead of hanging around and doing nothing useful aside from being everyone’s favorite punching bag, Zeus fought against every corrupt system of the mortal realm, in order to protect the foreigners and the innocents. It would’ve been so cool to see a different side of him, instead of the same thing over and over again!

But nope, Zeus = unfaithful husband only. Let’s ignore all the other aspects of him, to focus on the one everyone focuses on. Let’s make him the umpteenth version of the same guy, instead of offering a new vision. This will surely make the story worth everyone’s time!

Rachel, this could’ve worked if I was 12 and had never read a retelling in my entire life. But since I’m more than twice that age, seeing Zeus as an unfaithful husband again doesn’t get my interest. And I’m sure this doesn’t only apply to me, but to everyone who already saw at least two retellings of him. Isn’t this story supposed to be new and original? Then why are we still picking from the same old clichè visions of these gods? Where is the writer’s personality and ability?

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Apollo: king of wasted potentials

I am absolutely, completely, 100% baffled at how Apollo has been treated in this story.

It's insulting to see the most beloved Greek god treated as a bidimensional piece of shit. Not only because he doesn't make any sense in the story (why is he here in the first place? Did Persephone and Apollo even interact in any myth?), but also because there are so many different possibilities for him, that seeing him being this is the biggest waste of potential I’ve ever seen.

A brief recap of who Apollo really is: Apollo is the embodiment of the sun. He is the god of arts and crafts. He's the most beautiful god, he embodies the concept of perfect Greek beauty. And he is associated with a lot of cool stuff, like medicine, truth and oracles. Also, like most of the other Greek gods, Apollo had many male and female lovers.

Now, look me in the eye and tell me that, with all of this, your first idea about him is "yeah, let's make him a stupid rapist, so stupid to not realize that hey, maybe forcing a girl to sleep with you will not make her fall in love with you". Oh and let's not forget he randomly decided he wanted Zeus' throne just after the fertility plot point had been introduced Because Yes. And he’s running for president of Whatever-Land Because Yes. Also, he’s currently involved again in another evil plot Because… yeah, you got it.

It’s just so frustrating to see him being the biggest loser of all time, considering how much cooler he could’ve been. Just think about it: we could've had a bisexual musician, who does concerts with his band (the Muses) and has a shit ton of lovers. We could’ve had a heartbroken doctor, who does his best to save everyone because he has not been able to save his own son from death (Asclepius). We could've had a mysterious advisor who can see the future because of his foresight powers.

What did we get instead? A fucking rapist.

Apollo is nothing but wasted potential. He’s an insult to himself, the story, common sense, and the Greek culture. Of all the incredible things he could've been, he became the most insulting of them all. I really cannot bear to see this fucking idiot and his punching-bag face, pretending to be Apollo. He’s not Apollo.

But if there is a guy I can see less than him, then let me introduce you to…

_______________________________

Kronos: Supreme Master of Wasted Potential

First of all: why is Kronos here? Why does this love story need Persephone to defeat a big bad guy? Just to show how cool and badass she is? Considering that their fight was a joke, it didn't work very well.

But okay, let's say we need a villain Because Yes. Kronos is still a huge waste of potential, probably the biggest waste of potential of the whole series until now. He could’ve been an interesting, multifaceted character, but he became a cartoonish supervillain har-har I want power.

Sigh.

But let’s take a step back and talk about the real, mythological Kronos. His story starts with his parents, Uranus and Gaia. The two had a lot of sons, including Titans (like Kronos) and Hecatonchires (monsters with fifty heads and one hundred arms). Disgusted by their monstrous nature or maybe just out of fear of being overthrown, Uranus chained his sons away into Gaia's womb (aka the Tartarus) so that they could never come out again.

Gaia suffered from this decision, so she devised a plan: she made a stone sickle, gathered her sons and tried to persuade them to castrate Uranus.

All of her sons were afraid of Uranus, Kronos was the only one brave enough to do it. And he was successful: he overthrew his father and became the new ruler of the universe, along with his wife/sister Rhea.

However, after becoming king, he didn't free all of his brothers as his mother wanted, but locked Hecatonchires and Cyclopes away once again. And so, Gaia told him that, one day, he would meet his father’s same fate and be overthrown by one of his own children.

Scared by these words, Kronos devised a plan: every time he had a new child, he took the baby from Rhea and swallowed them. Rhea was desperate and, in order to save her last son Zeus, she sought Gaia's help.

So Rhea gave birth to Zeus in a secret place, then handed Kronos a stone wrapped in clothes: he swallowed it, thinking that it was his son. This way, Zeus managed to escape the same fate as his siblings and was raised in secret, away from his father, until he was old enough to come back and fulfill his destiny.

And now, you may think Zeus overthrew his father with a sword and killed him and nah nah nah, myths are not that stupid and predictable. Zeus didn’t use violence to overthrow his father, but intelligence. He disguised himself to reach Kronos' court and, at the right time, he gave him a drink. That drink was an emetic (given by Gaia), that forced Kronos to throw up everything he swallowed, in reverse order: first the stone he thought was his last son, then Zeus' brothers and sisters.

After freeing his siblings, Zeus did what his father would've never done: he released the Hecatoncheires and the Cyclops to help him in the following battle against Kronos and the other Titans, a battle known as Titanomachy.

The war ended with the victory of the Olympians (i.e. Zeus and his siblings). Many Titans were confined in Tartarus, under the Hecatonchires' control, others were not imprisoned and kept appearing in other myths.

And Kronos? His fate differs depending on the myths. In some versions, he was imprisoned in Tartarus. But according to other, more interesting versions, Zeus forgave him after years, freed him and Kronos became king of the Elysian Fields: the famous earthly paradise reserved for the greatest Greek heroes.

Now. Just look at all of this beautiful, beautiful potential.

We have Gaia, a powerful goddess who overthrew two rulers of the universe, without moving a finger. A goddess strong and clever, but also a mother who wanted all of her children to be free - even the most hideous ones. She could’ve been a tragic figure, a master manipulator, or an evil schemer. Or all these things!

We have the Hecatonchires: fighters so powerful, to turn the tide of any battle. They could’ve been scary and intimidating, but also tragic monsters who just wanted to be accepted. They could’ve taught a beautiful lesson about the importance of accepting the ugly and giving everyone a chance to prove themselves.

Then we have Kronos. And Kronos had everything to be the greatest character.

Think about this concept: Kronos has always been afraid of Uranus, just like his brothers. He was just better at hiding his feelings. And that visceral fear is still inside him, it still haunts him after centuries, just like the memory of how he overthrew his father. And that fear takes the shape of paranoid thoughts about his father coming back to take the throne.

Kronos could’ve seen his father haunting him, but he could’ve also dissociated and seen himself as his father. In his altered state of mind, he could’ve been both the king and the one who overthrows him.

That could’ve made him a truly dangerous, unhinged character. A god who can’t see what’s real anymore, obsessed with the ghosts of his past. A god with nothing to lose and everything to gain. After all, if he kills his children again, the throne would be his once more. And, since he sees himself as himself and as his father at the same time, he would think that he is the "true king" coming back to take his throne.

That could’ve been awesome. Kronos could've been complex, desperate and multifaceted, a villain to pity and to be afraid of. A truly new, interesting version to know and love.

And do you have any idea how incredible Zeus could’ve been in this version? We could see him facing Kronos again, still as strong and determined as when he was young. And while everyone would expect him to kill Kronos, he would use his intelligence once again. He would prove to Kronos (and to everyone else) how intelligence is always superior to violence and how he's a good leader, despite his thousands of flaws.

Also, we could've seen Zeus talking to the defeated Kronos and making him the ruler of the Elysian Fields. We could've had a meaningful ending, in which Zeus understands Kronos' fears and shares his own.

I would’ve adored this, because according to the myth, Zeus was also supposed to be overthrown by a son! Hence why he swallowed Metis (his first wife) while she was pregnant.

The myth never truly clarifies who this supposed "son" is, but according to the different versions, Metis was pregnant not with a son, but with a daughter. A daughter who, one day, would be born, full grown, from Zeus' head. A daughter who would become Zeus' favorite child: Athena.

Honestly? I ADORE the idea that there was never a son to overthrow Zeus, but a daughter. And she would not overthrow his father by violence like her grandfather or by intelligence like her father, but by love. Athena doesn't need to take the throne from her father physically, she doesn't even need to sit on that throne: not when her father loves her more than anything else.

And I love the idea that Zeus is aware of that. He knows his daughter is his weakness. He knows that, if she asks, he will willingly give her that throne, because he loves her too much. And I would've loved to see him sharing these thoughts with the defeated Kronos. It could've been a beautiful moment, to see Zeus talking with the fatherly figure he always missed from his life. It could've led to a beautiful, meaningful ending for a dramatic story.

But can you see the problem here? This concept works for a story about Zeus, not about Hades and Persephone! These two have nothing to do with Kronos! Heck, even Rachel Smythe knows it, considering she had to pull a stupid plot point out of thin air, to explain why Kronos would give a damn about Persephone!

In case you were wondering: yes, the fertility-magical-power-battery-thing is bullshit. Gods don’t need a magical battery to be powerful. And no, fertility goddesses are not rare either: Aphrodite, Demeter, Hera, even Artemis are just a few of the fertility goddesses in Greek mythology. Kronos could’ve picked his favorite from a large pool, instead of becoming an absolute creep with Persephone in the stupidest fight of all time.

And speaking of that, two words on the supposed “fight”. First of all, apologies to all fights for being associated with this thing, because this was anything but a fight: it was a cartoonish conversation accompanied by the umpteenth sexualization of Persephone, who first appeared fully naked, then with a dress so stupid to defy the laws of physics and perspective.

And if you don’t believe me, please see it by yourself: this is how the dress was supposed to be, according to episode 75

This is how it ended up. Apparently, the Fates didn’t predict how huge Persephone’s boobs would be and the neckline didn’t grow accordingly: I feared to see one of them slipping out from it anytime during the “fight”

Also, please appreciate how Persephone is turned to the side, but the dress’ stupidly huge neckline is shown from the front, otherwise we would’ve seen her full naked boobs.

And that stupid neckline kept bothering me throughout the whole “fight”, because it kept changing size. Check the episodes and see it by yourself: sometimes it’s smaller, other times it’s wider and it keeps moving in impossible ways. It drove me insane.

But since we’re talking about drawings, please allow me a very brief parenthesis about them too.

_______________________________

The drawings are a joke

I am not an artist. I can barely draw a straight line by hand. But I studied art history, perspective, proportions and colors, so I’m not completely clueless.

But you don’t need to be clueless, to notice how bad the drawings became. If you have two eyes and saw another human being in your life before, then you can notice by yourself how bad they are.

It’s not a secret that Lore Olympus’ art style changed over time. In the beginning, this comic was characterized by a lot of straight lines and geometric shapes, alternating and mixing with gentle curves. There were blur effects, colored outlines, a lot of details that gave an overall dreamy, ethereal vibe to every chapter (like the soft glow that accompanied the gods).

But as the story progressed, these elements disappeared. The geometric shapes gave way to an overall “softness” and roundness. The dreamy vibes and blur effects were replaced by sharper, clearer drawings. A distinct black outline now marks every character.

And speaking of characters, they were the ones who changed more. Lore Olympus always had funny, silly faces but the characters were also able to be serious and look natural. Now all we have are grotesque faces: the characters are a collection of caricatures and no one has a normal expression anymore. Check by yourself, by confronting a random episode of the third act with the first one: they’re two different worlds.

The disproportions were common too, since episode one. But at least they were somehow plausible, while now they’re completely absurd. It’s as if Mrs Smythe completely forgot what a human being looks like.

And this is pretty evident in how all characters became a rough draft of the two protagonists: all women got Persephone’s face, all men become buff and huge, with wide-ass shoulders and teeny tiny heads. This is particularly obvious at the end of season 2 / start of season 3, when we see some of the funniest images ever, like Hades with a tiny head and shoulders as wide as the entire USA

Or this hilariously bad image of Zeus with clown shoes and a head as big as his deformed hand.

No excuse can justify these drawings: no one is running after Mrs Smythe, nor forcing her to draw, and people are paying her real money to work on this webcomic. The least she can do is draw something that doesn’t look like a bad distortion of a human being.

Unless this isn’t her drawing, but her staff’s work. In that case, they are still paid to do their job, right? Or do they think this story is a joke and decide to show how much of a joke it is, by turning everyone into a grotesque caricature?

_______________________________

In conclusion

Lore Olympus is hilarious because of how bad the writing is. It’s a manual example of how not to write a climax for your story. It’s a perfect demonstration of how you can still fail, even with great characters with endless possibilities. It’s a list of all the mistakes you can make as an artist.

If you’re a writer or an artist in general, please check Lore Olympus and study it. Here you will find everything you should never do and all the mistakes you should never make.

As a writer myself, I appreciate Lore Olympus, because I need works that teach me what I shouldn’t do. Good teachers are useful, but bad ones are even more useful, because it’s thanks to them that I can learn and grow and make better stories. Lore Olympus might be a failure from an artistic and writing point of view, but it might also serve as a foundation, from which other people can develop better ideas.

Actually, it already did it! Do you want to read a better story, rose from the disappointing ashes of Lore Olympus? Then check Lore Rekindled and @genericpuff: you will find their work here on Tumblr. They planned everything ahead and it’s pretty clear by reading it. The characters make more sense, the events have a more logical explanation. And the art style is much, much better than the last Lore Olympus.

We will meet again for the third and (for now) final post about this series, a much-needed post about the protagonists of this story: Hades, Persephone and Demeter.

<- Previous post - Next post ->

(How about a coffee? ☕)

_______________________________

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[fadedin2u]

pick up and roll the dice - ch. 2

read in between the lines, i know you love me…

summary: ellie takes you to a college party, you do her make up. based on the song hold on by the internet

content: college!au, childhood best friends!au, dealer!ellie, fem!reader, modern!au, ellie is a simp (not surprising), ur also a simp, art major!ellie, kinda slow burn??

word count: 2.8k

warnings: mention of reader vomiting, drug usage (alcohol, weed), lots of cursing (what do you expect), men (mentioned), expect nsfw chapters in the future so MDNI 18+

read chapter 1 here

“Hey, just FYI, a guy is gonna come over in about 15 to pick up,” Ellie warns you as she puts on some sweatpants on top of the boxers she was lounging in.

Ellie started dealing in high school, and it started purely by accident. She was always the one with bud, and originally only sold to close friends because they didn’t know where to get weed, but as college got more hectic (and tuition went up), Ellie started selling to people on campus. She sold actual bud mainly, but sometimes she’d sell shrooms if she ended up in possession of them.

You sit on your own twin bed, and look up from your phone, nodding. It wasn’t completely unusual for Ellie to have people pick up at the dorms, but more often she tried to avoid it in fear of getting caught by the R.A. and potentially getting expelled.

“Sounds good,” You say, going back to your phone.

Ellie stares at you for a moment, deliberating, “Hey, uh, there’s a party happening tonight that I’m probably gonna end up going to sell at, would you wanna come?”

Your face scrunches up, cautious, “Who’s throwing it?”

Ellie thinks for a minute, “I think it’s the lacrosse team, but don’t quote me on that.”

You groan, “Ughh… The lacrosse team? Seriously?”

Ellie sits on your bed, her hands clasped together, “Come onnnn, it won’t be fun without you there. Besides, we’ll go for an hour, get wasted and high, and come back here to play Mario Kart! It’ll be fun!”

You glare at Ellie, “You wouldn’t wanna go to this party either if it wasn’t for the business opportunity. The lacrosse guys are dicks.”

Ellie gives you a half-smile, “I know, that’s why I overcharge them.”

You snort, rolling your eyes, and you contemplate your options. You could either go out with Ellie and stay entertained, even if it is around insufferable people, or you could stay at home and play a video game for 7 hours straight.

“Okay, fine. But you owe me,” you say, folding your arms over your chest.

Ellie gives you a cheeky smile, “The pleasure of my company isn’t enough for you?”

You stare blankly back at her.

Ellie laughs, “Fine, Jesus, name your price.”

You think for a moment, not knowing what Ellie could give you besides weed.

Suddenly your face lights up, “You have to let me do your make up for tonight.”

Ellie’s nose scrunches up, “Dude, come on. I’m not a make up girl.”

You roll your eyes again, “I’m not gonna do it like mine, I’ll make it more androgynous, I promise. It’ll look so good.”

Ellie thinks about you thinking that she looks “so good”, and she sighs, “Fine. But none of that mascara shit. It feels weird on my eyes and I don’t like the way it looks.”

You laugh, “You have my word, no mascara.” You look over at the clock, seeing that it’s already about 8:30pm.

“We should probably get ready soon then, right?” You ask, and there’s a knock at the door.

Ellie nods as she walks towards the door, “Yeah, just let me finish this up.”

As Ellie takes care of business, you go over to your closet, thinking hard about what you can wear that looks good, but at the same time, doesn’t look like you put in that much effort to a college party.

You eventually pink a pair of your favorite pair of jeans, a tight, black cropped t-shirt, and some sneakers. You wait to start changing until Ellie’s customer leaves.

Ellie shuts the door, folding the wad of cash and slipping it into her wallet.

You start changing out of your shorts and hoodie into your outfit, and Ellie very pointedly does not look anywhere near you as you change. When you’re in your outfit, you look over it in the mirror.

“What are you gonna wear, Els?” You ask, fixing your hair.

Ellie stares at you in your outfit before looking down at her wife-beater and sweatpants combo. “Uh… This?”

You give Ellie a look, “Dude. This-“ you point to a stain near her neckline, “is from yesterday.”

Ellie scoffs, “Fuck you, I’m saving the environment by not washing my clothes every time I wear them.”

You roll your eyes, “Oh, is that what you’re doing?”

You go over to Ellie’s closet. You pick a black graphic tee, your favorite of her short-sleeve button ups to wear over it, and a pair of her slouchy denim jeans.

“Voila.” You say, shoving the clothes into her chest as you walk over to your shared bathroom to do your own make up. She flushes, but nonetheless changes into the outfit you picked, the idea of you picking what you think looks best on her making her stomach fluttery and warm.

When Ellie is finished changing, she walks into the bathroom, watching you in the mirror as you do your make up. You apply a light layer of lipstick as she does, and you’re hyperaware of her gaze on your face.

You finish up, your make up accentuating your features perfectly. You blot your lips with some toilet paper, and nod.

“Okay, let’s do this-“ You say, hoping up onto the bathroom counter and rifling through your make up bag until you find a brown, pencil liner.

“C’mere,” You say, motioning for Ellie to come closer.

Ellie’s hands are sweating as she walks up to you, standing in between your legs. She’s not sure where to put her hands so she leaves them dangling at her sides.

You lean forward and put your hand on Ellie’s cheek to steady her face. “Your eyes might water, just so you’re prepared.”

Ellie scoffs, “Please. A little eyeliner isn’t gonna kill me.”

You start lining her waterline, and her eye immediately tears up, “Fuck.”

You giggle, continuing to outline her green eyes. When you’re done, you put the pencil away.

“Okay, now the trick for this is to close your eyes and rub them a bit. Can you do that for me?” You ask as you rummage through your bag again to pull out some eyebrow gel.

Ellie chuckles a little, following your instructions, “I thought the point was to not touch your eyes when you have eyeliner on so you don’t fuck it up.”

You nod, “Yeah, usually, but I’m doing more of a diffused, messy look on you. It’ll look best with your whole… Vibe, I guess, if your make up is less structured and more messy.”

Ellie stops rubbing her eyes, and the green in her eyes pops brilliantly against the brown liner. You smile, pleased with yourself.

“Okay, that was the worst of it,” You say, brushing through Ellie’s eyebrows with the gel.

Ellie nods, focused on your face as you do her make up, and it makes you feel excessively vulnerable, but you don’t call attention to it, assuming it’s you who’s being weird for thinking into it.

You take a blush stick and apply a little to her freckled cheeks, and lightly dab the rest on her lips with your finger.

Finally, you apply a top layer of chapstick to her lips.

“Okay, finished,” You say, admiring your work.

Ellie nods, still in-between your legs, looking at you. “Thanks.”

You giggle, and it sounds more nervous than you intended. “Wanna check yourself out in the mirror?”

Ellie is knocked out of her stupor, and moves out from between your legs to look in the mirror. The liner makes her eyes pop, and the rest of the make up is simple and light, accentuating her features while adding a little something extra.

Ellie’s face spreads into a grin, “Dude, this is so much better than I expected.”

You kick her before jumping off the counter.

She yelps, “Hey! I didn’t mean that in a bad way, I just never really saw how I could wear make up in a way that makes me feel comfortable, and this looks great.”

You fix yourself in the mirror one last time, “Damn right it looks great. I did it.”

Ellie laughs, her smile bright. She gives you a once over, “You ready to go?”

—-

The house that’s hosting the party is only a few blocks away from your dorm building, so you and Ellie walk there together as you share a blunt.

By the time you two arrive at the party, you’re both fairly stoned. Ellie opens the door for you, and you two barely get three steps inside before you hear a “Ellie! Y/n!”

You both turn to see a clearly inebriated Jesse rushing towards you, a goofy smile on his face.

He gives you both a bear hug at the same time, and you laugh as Ellie says, “I’m guessing you already found the booze, Jess?”

Jesse laughs boisterously, shrugging, “Hey, you guys need to catch up, get on my level.”

Ellie looks over at you, eyebrow raised, “Wanna take a shot?”

You make a face, “Not really, but I’m gonna take one anyways.”

Ellie laughs at that, and the three of you migrate to the kitchen. Ellie takes a bottle of whiskey out of her backpack that’s carrying everything she has to sell tonight. She pours three shots with some miscellaneous, most likely used, shot glasses on the counter. As she does, you ask Jesse, “Is Dina gonna be here tonight?”

Jesse makes a face, and you think ‘Shit, sore subject right now, huh?’

Jesse says, “Dina and I had a fight last night, so… I don’t know if she’s gonna be here.”

Ellie makes a low whistle, but she knows her friends, and this on and off again thing between Jesse and Dina has been going on since you all were in high school together. They’ll likely be right as rain by the end of the week.

You take a shot from Ellie and pass the other to Jesse, “Then we’ll have a blast with the three of us, right?”

Jesse grins, “Fuck yeah, we will.”

——-

Famous last words.

About 2 hours later, you were sitting alone on a musty couch, your head dizzy from the several drinks you’ve already had. You nurse another one as you watch Ellie dealing to some brunette girl. Jesse left you to hang out with some guy friends, so you’re left to watch this girl flirt with Ellie, clearly putting the moves on her. Your stomach twists a little as you see Ellie laugh at something she said, her eyes crinkling.

When the girl rests her arm on Ellie’s bicep and Ellie doesn’t resist it, you stand up, going to get some fresh air.

You weave through the packed house, stumbling slightly as you turn a corner. ‘Fuck. I must be more drunk than I thought.’

You go outside, walking out onto the front porch. There are a few people smoking outside, and you try to move past them, but a man puts his hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, y/n, right?” He asks, tilting his head. It’s dark out, but you finally recognize his face from a generals math class you took freshman year.

“Hey, Matt, how’ve you been?” You ask, cursing yourself for playing into it. You barely knew the guy, and you were really not in the mood to entertain someone’s conversation.

Matt grins, and he leans in closer to you, pulling you over to the porch railing by him, “I’ve been better without Professor Bynum on my ass about stats. How’ve you been?”

Your nose scrunches up instinctually at him pulling you over.

“I’ve been alright, pretty busy, I actually just came out here to get some air and, well- I guess I got it, so I should probably get back inside.” You say awkwardly, back away.

Matt says, “Wait! Before you leave… You should know that I had a *huge* crush on you during that class.”

‘Great. Jesus Christ,’ you think.

“That’s- Um, that’s sweet.” You say, and you couldn’t sound less enthusiastic if you tried.

Matt’s inebriated brain doesn’t seem to care about that though, “Do you think I could take you out sometime?”

You wince, “Oh, Matt, I’m sorry, I-“

You feel a hand on your shoulder and you jump, turning back just to see Ellie. She looks a little hurt, “I thought you were gonna wait on the couch for me?”

You give Ellie an apologetic, tense smile, starting to feel a little nauseated, “Sorry, I just needed to get some air.”

You turn back to Matt, and maybe if you were less drunk, you would’ve had more tact, but all that comes out of your mouth is, “And I’m sorry, Matt, but no.”

Matt’s eyebrows furrow, “Damn, okay. Do you have a boyfriend or something?”

You pause, wondering if you should lie to get out of the awkward situation, but before you do, Ellie says, “Why, does she need a boyfriend to not want to go out with you?”

‘Jesus, Ellie.’ You think, your stomach churning more and more.

Matt’s jaw drops, “Jesus Christ, what the fuck is your problem?”

Ellie’s eyes narrow, “Nothing, I’m just explaining how to take rejection, dipshit.”

Matt looks like he’s about to say something to retaliate, but before he does, you turn away from them and vomit over the porch railing into the shrubs.

Whatever was about to be said gets lost, and you feel one hand bracing your back as another gathers the hair out of your face, and you hear Ellie’s voice by your ear, “Shit, you alright?”

You try to nod but you end up heaving more, emptying the contents of your stomach. Ellie’s hand smoothes over your back in a way that she hopes is comforting as she holds your hair away from your face.

“Hey, it’s alright, you’re okay. I’m gonna take you home, alright?” Ellie asks as you stand back upright, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Okay,” you say, too nauseous to resist and too done with this party to want to.

Ellie seems considerably more sober than you as she wraps one arm around your waist, walking you back to the dorms. You’re about to tell Ellie that you’re fine to walk on your own, that you’re not that drunk, but you can’t help but want to take advantage of the situation, leaning into Ellie.

“I’m sorry for making you leave early,” you say, and she squeezes your waist.

“You’re just fine, babe, don’t worry. I wanted to leave that boring ass party anyways.” Ellie responds, shrugging.

The two of you keep walking. “What about that girl you were talking to? She was really pretty:”

Ellie brows furrow, “The brunette? She was nice, I guess.”

You shake your head as you laugh, “Ellie, you are so dense, she was totally into you.”

Ellie shrugs again, “I know.”

Your brows furrow this time, “And… You weren’t interested?”

Ellie shrugs, “She was alright, just… Yeah. Wasn’t interested.”

Ellie leads you up to your dorm room, and when you step inside, you immediately face plant onto your bed.

“Home sweet home,” you say into the duvet, your voice muffled.

Ellie chuckles at that, grabbing a glass of water that was by your bedside and bringing it to you. “Okay, doll. Can you drink this?”

You sit up on the bed, and sip the water as Ellie goes to fetch ibuprofen, a bucket (just in case you still feel sick later), and a warm washcloth because she knows you like to clean your face at the very least before bed.

She sets everything up for you as you wipe off your face, watching her with a lovesick ache in your stomach.

When you’re finished, she takes the washcloth and chucks it into the dirty laundry hamper. She also passes you one of her (clean) cheesy, graphic tees.

“For you to sleep in.” She says casually.

You laugh, “My closet is right there, Els.”

Ellie’s cheeks go a little pink and she tries to take the shirt back, “Well, if you don’t want it-“

You snatch it back from her, “I want it.”

She laughs and puts her hands up in surrender before going to use the bathroom to clean up herself.

You strip off your dirty clothes except for your underwear and slip on Ellie’s t-shirt. You check to make sure the bathroom door is still closed before lifting the fabric up to your nose and sniffing it, smelling the familiar scent of Ellie’s laundry detergent.

You feel that same lovesick ache pang at your stomach again, and you crawl back into bed, your drunk brain too inebriated to handle that kind of intense emotion. You nestle under your covers, and thanks to the weed and alcohol in your bloodstream, you quickly pass out.

When Ellie comes out of the bathroom and finds you asleep in her clothes, she quickly goes to pull out her journal, sitting on her own twin bed across from yours and doing a quick, messy sketch of your sleeping face.

‘This is fucking weird behavior, Ellie, what the fuck?’ She thinks to herself as she finishes up and gets up to put her journal away.

On her way back to the bed, she pauses, looking at you for a moment before kissing your cheek softly.

“Goodnight.” She whispers, before crawling into her own bed, where she would lie awake for several more hours.

———

chapter 3 here!

texts w reader and ellie here