#if not please feel free to send some more details like what you are trying to download and in which browser! <3

[m---resources]

hi! when i try to download episodes from the mega folder it tells me that i have to pay to do that. do you know what i could do? <3

hi! yes, sadly mega has a free download limit of 5gb every 24h per ip-address, which is its main downside (i give you guys links with mega as a host because it's much harder for people to make nearly enough google drives for all of this, considering new google accounts now each need a verification via a real phone number. mega also has much better privacy protection in general)

about the download limit, there are a few things you can do: (below the cut because it got long)

1) download MEGAsync, mega's own cloud synchronisation tool, which you can find on their website here. this lets you save links and thereby queue the downloads, so you will not lose progress if you run out of download capacity for the day or shut down your computer in the middle of a download (like you would if you were downloading in the browser). also, whenever you have the programme open, it will automatically resume your download queue once your free account has capacity again. you do need to make a free account for this, but you can use a throwaway address like one from 10minutemail. just do not forget to note down the random e-mail address it gives you somewhere because you will still need to use it as your username anytime you log in.

2) use premium link generators. a premium link generator is a website that downloads any mega (or many other filehosters') links you give them through their own premium accounts on those hosting sites, then reuploads whatever it finds, and lets you download the file from their own website for free and at a high speed.

the link generator sites pay for those premium accounts with ads they show you, though, meaning you have to click through quite a few of them and several captchas to get your free link. for this, please make sure to have at least one adblocker (like adblock plus and ublock origin), and if you want to be cautious at least one antivirus plugin (like malwarebytes and avira), installed. there are some posts with good general privacy plugins floating about, i will add a link here if i find them again. when you click through the ~5-10 ads and captchas, there will be one page that will ask you to disable your adblocker - please only turn it off if you can't clear that site otherwise and turn it back on immediately after you have cleared that site. in general, also make sure to close any pop ups that open and pay attention to finding the correct continue/download buttons (though i've never really had fake ones, just mentioning it to be sure).

the only premium link generator that consistently works for me is uploadedpremiumlink.net. they give you an additional 5gb of downloads per day on mega if you are logged out, 10gb if you make an account. once again, you can use a throwaway mail address like from 10minutemail to make an account as long as you remember what your username and password is

3) use a vpn or some other way of changing your ip-adress. if you are not logged in, then the only way that mega determines that your 5gb are up is via your ip-address. if you can appear under another ip-address, it should give you a new 5gb of capacity, assuming somebody else hasn't also used that ip-address to download from mega in the same day. sadly, i can't really recommend you any free vpn services as i do not have any experience with any of them - but maybe others have some suggestions in the notes?

i hope this helps, at least a little bit! i also searched some reddit threads but couldn't verify any other options on there myself.

as always, please use any information i give you at your own discretion, and if anyone else has any suggestions, i'd love to hear them!!

[ashes-of-ailell]

man me posting that tier list suddenly makes Lucien's dislike of Lorenz make sense huh

(little rant in my tags just cause I'm a bit nervous, would mean a lot of you read (it's nothing too serious dw, just wanted to clarify some things))

[jessiarts]

[Shut off last version of this post to avoid possible continual spread of misinformation that was corrected by staff. Reposting clean with corrected info]

So I'm sure almost everyone knows about the porn bot problem by now, so here's a post detailing why it's a problem, and what we need to do about it.

First off, yes, always block the porn bots. Don't be mislead into thinking they're ok to keep around because they 'inflate your follower count.'

Firstly, no one cares about, nor can anyone even see, your follower count. Be free from the shackles that are the bullshit other socials told you was important. Don't let your ego be tied to a number. Having a lot of followers won't earn you any clout here.

Secondly, bots only follow blogs to try and legitimize their malware (and other dodgy) links. This post goes into more detail about that.

Now that that's out of the way, you'll need to know how to recognize a porn bot. This round the template seems to be:

A profile photo of a pretty lady or guy, usually in their underwear, with a similar header photo.

A bio with some combination of: [Age] // [Name] // [Location] // [Emoji] // [Top Bullshit% OnlyFans]

URL consisting of a name followed by a number (i.e: firstlast999)

Typically an empty blog, or if there is content, it's all dodgy links. Visible, but empty, Likes Tab, & occasionally a visible Following Tab.

You likely recognize the pattern.

So, what you want to do is, first, report the blog as spam On mobile it'll look like this:

On mobile you'll need to report spam first, and then go back to the menu again to block.

On desktop it will look like this, and unlike mobile, you'll be able to report spam and block in the same motion:

If I remember correctly,* be sure to "Report Spam", not "Report sexually explicit material" to feed the bots to the proper channels. Because the blog is empty, they haven't posted anything explicit that would violate TOS. However, staff can recognize a bot, and if you report the blog for spam (the actual problem) they'll take a look, more than likely find that the blog is posting or DMing dodgy links, and dispose of it.

And I think that's it. Here's wishing you all a happy and safe blogging experience!

[UPDATE: It was suggested on another post that the bots track your IP if you click on them to send more your way. However, someone from staff corrected and said this is incorrect. They also corrected the 'guilt by association' myth that bots following you can get your blog flagged by tumblr.

That said, that trail all led to another, easier, way to report/block the bots all from your Follower Tab instead of visiting each blog separately, unfortunately it only works on desktop:

(For newbies, click on the little person icon at the top right of your screen and scroll to find the Followers tab under the blog/sideblog you need to block a pornbot from.)

*I remember this information from a blog that used to be all about taking down the pornbots. Unfortunately I do not know if that blog is still active, nor can I remember the URL. If anyone knows what blog I'm referring to, and/or if they're still active, please feel free to tag them so others can follow them for more tips!

[femboty2k]

The Great Trans Girl Exodus Commission Post

Hello once again! To make a long story short: My darling wife and I are trying very hard to be able to move from Texas to Colorado ahead of how bad legislature is getting here. We have savings and a plan but its shaping up to be a very expensive and stressful finding a place to actually move in to. Our lease here is up at the end of June so we're starting to really crack down on trying to find places to apply to. I'm making this post because we would really appreciate some extra funds to add to what we have saved to make this move possible and if its an option: comfortable. We're a pair of trans lesbians trying so very very hard to make a life for ourselves in this country that hates us. Below I've attached some basic pricing and examples of the type of pixel art I do as well as some of my writing as I'm A-Okay writing for other folks if you like my prose or brand of article jank. If you have any questions about anything here please feel free to send me a DM on here and we can talk more about what you want and what I can do for you. Thank you so much if you end up commissioning anything or even if you just share this post. Examples and pricing below the cut:

Y2K Stylized Piece: $50+ (Price can range based on piece complexity desired)

Flat colour piece w. basic detailing: $60+ (Price can range based on number of characters desired and background complexity, basic BG is included in piece)

Detailed/Low-Poly Style piece: $75+ (These ones take the longest due to the by-hand editing needed to ensure the style is cohesive or detailing is done on the whole piece. Price can range based on complexity desired.)

Pixel Chibi: $20 (Pixel Chibi pricing is locked at $20)

Emote Suite: $35 (Price covers up to 9 custom emotes sized for usage in Discord and other messaging use cases)

Doodle: $25 (A flat simple piece with a simple concept done on a small canvas)

WRITING EXAMPLES:

Fiction: Tactile Sensations, a Sci-Fi short story Article Writing: Bloodborne PXS: One of the best fanworks on the web Writing prices start at $30 and can fluctuate upwards based on piece length. Thank you so much for checking out my work and/or sharing it. We're trying to start a new life for ourselves in a safer place, and we really do appreciate any help. Thank you!

[fashion-runways]

okay it's been over a year and i keep saying i'm going to make a new post and it's too exhausting to even think about the whole thing so i keep pushing it-- here's the link to the old post if you want a more detailed thing i wrote back then.

anyway, a year ago, out of the blue, our apartment got raided by the police, they broke our front door, they broke a bunch of shit inside, they took a bunch of our stuff, they barely gave us answers or an explanation, they took my dad and made it seem like he would have to sign some stuff and answer some questions and come back, but it's been over a year (since june 2022) and he hasn't come back, and his case is still up in the air. they're barely working on it. they didn't pay for all the shit they broke, they haven't returned all the shit they took, we had to spend a lot of money on that, i had to take a loan to buy a new computer so i could keep working and studying, on top of spending even more money on basic needs for my dad in jail and lawyers, plus blood pressure and anxiety medications, plus he's old and he was scheduled an eye surgery that he obviously couldn't go to so he's like, practically blind in one eye now, also new clothes for him to wear there (there's a bunch of rules for that), honestly i already lost track of how many things we had to pay for. it's been incredibly stressful and it still is even now that we've gotten used to it. he's been detained for a year for something that they still don't even know if he did and the case is barely moving, i don't know if they're like... i don't know, waiting for the man to die in there since he's already old so they don't have to admit they don't have enough proof for all the mess they made? i don't know. like i said back then, please don't ask me for details on the case or show up in my inbox trying to play tiktok true crime and guess what he did/didn't do. it happened a few times and it's extremely triggering, please don't. please.

this blog is basically my job. it's my primary source of income, i don't have anything else, no matter how many interviews i go to, in the country/city i live and in the state our economy is, if you don't have contacts it's impossible to get a job. i'm always signing up to free programs to learn new things while i don't have a job, try to make my cv bigger, but it doesn't matter. if you don't have someone saying “please hire my friend/family member” or you don't have 500 years of experience, they won't. so like i said, donations people make to this blog are how me and my mom (and my pets) stay afloat. it's what we use to pay for food, general groceries, transportation, electricity, wifi, water, gas, health insurance, stuff for my dad in jail, meds for my mom who has diabetes, food and meds for my pets. i don't go out much, i haven't gotten a haircut in a year, i barely spend money in anything that makes me happy except once in a blue moon when i stop feeling guilty lmao i had a redbubble account also that helped a little too, but last week it got suspended without an explanation as i was uploading new designs, so i don't even have that now. i made a new account on teepublic, but all my designs in high quality are locked behind redbubble and i can't even log into because of the suspension. it's... complicated, and it's a lot, but it is what it is.

i'm always keeping an eye out on new collections, new designers, new cool things. like i said, i love fashion, i studied fashion, and i know a lot of you use this blog as inspiration whether it's for yourselves or for your art, so i don't want to post all similar stuff all the time, i want to post all kinds of styles and brands as much as i can. which is why when i say if you like this blog, if you want to support me, sending even the smallest amount of money helps me keep going. living in latin america, the exchange rate is kind of insane, so truly any amount of money donated helps. unfortunately, i never stop needing money to survive and help keep my family afloat, but in the past year more than ever.

as usual, my kofi link is this one: https://ko-fi.com/fashionrunways and my (new) teepublic link is this one: https://www.teepublic.com/user/dinah-lance. if my redbubble account gets reinstated, i'll add that link eventually too. and as always, thanks for loving this blog and for loving fashion like i love fashion, even when i post crazy looking stuff, and thanks for helping. you have no idea how much your support helps, but it really does, i don't even know if i'd be alive right now if it wasn't for this blog.

[wintfleur]

stop i need stella moments with her brothers in videos about them like “going home” 🙏🏼🙏🏼

౨ৎ going home (featuring Stella Hughes!)

﹕─┈ pairings ( Estella Hughes oc! X siblings! Hughes brothers )

°. — details ( g; fluff. w; none really? wc; 1.k )

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( I am sooo sorry for how long this has taken for me to get out !!! It got lost in my inbox lovely, but thank you sm for sending in a request! I loved writing it, so sorry that it’s short !!! Hope you guys enjoy !!! )

°. — this is based off this video.

°. — ( feel free to send any requests of things you would like to see in this series, or if you just want to share some thoughts! I would absolutely love that! Please comment if you would like to be added to the tag list! )

au masterlist — you can find asks under #💌stellahughes!

﹕─┈ All of Stella’s moments during ‘Going Home | Quinn Hughes’

“Lukey was the best pool player in the family I would say, or in the house” Quinn answered Kate's question, as he motioned his head towards Luke who was leaning over the pool table with his stick. Stella’s lips twitched up into a smile, already knowing where her older brother was leading the conversation too. Quinn continued to speak with a small smile “He had like the best win percentage, and then he bought a pool stick.” 

“For like 200 bucks” Luke was quick to interrupt Quinn, an annoyed frown on his lips as he looked back on the bad money decision, he should have listened to stella. Quinn let out a small chuckle and glanced back at Stella before continuing to tease Luke “Yeah, and he just his game went down the down the rails like. He was like one in ten.” 

“What about you stella?” Kate sent the youngest Hughes a warm smile, looking at Stella who was sitting Criss crossed on the couch watching Luke.  Stella perked up at the mention of her name and sent Kate a happy smile, but before she could answer, Luke was quick to jump in and answer for her with a laugh “Stella’s the worst!” 

Everyone in the room laughs at the dramatic gasp that Stella let out. Jack, who was leaning against the wall, laughing louder than the rest at the offended look Stella sends him. Quinn just shrugs, he was not going to get in between Stella and Luke today. The Producer chuckles himself before asking Quinn another answer “are you the cook in the house?” 

Stella zones out as Quinn answers the question, her eyes dropping down to her lap where her phone rested when she felt it vibrate, a shy smile coming across her face when she sees who texted her. She bit her bottom lip to hide her smile, not wanting to give her suddenly happy mood away. 

lovey 🩵: do you think i'd survive sneaking through your window tonight? 

pretty girl 🩷: are you brave enough to try? (i give you a 40% survival rate) 

lovey 🩵: Bet! (i’d die happy though) 

“Isn't that right stella?” Quinn asked Stella, wanting her to agree with how he's a much better cook. Stella looks up from her phone where she was lost in her own world and sees everyone looking at her for an answer, but the only answer they got was a confused frown and a small “Huh.” 

Quinn and Jack chuckle while Luke narrows his eyes on her phone, Stella quickly shutting it off when she sees Luke's stare. Quinn chuckles and gives the camera a cheeky smile “I'm gonna take that as a yes.” 

Stella sat in the corner of the boat, a blanket over her lap and her hands stuffed into the front pocket of Luke's hoodie that she stole. She wanted to go sit up on the front of the boat, curled up next to her mom but they wanted her to sit with Luke and Jack, the fans wanted to see the siblings together more apparently. 

“Get your toes away from me” Stella quietly hissed at jack when he rested them up on the seat next to her, Luke who was laying on his stomach behind her stifled his laugh at the groan of annoyance stella lets out when jack teasingly moves his toes closer to her. Ellen leans forward and looks back at her children, she sends a warning look to her middle son and leans back, knowing that's all she'd have to do for him to stop bugging his sister.

Jack rolls his eyes and lets out an annoyed huff when Stella sends him a triumphant smirk, Stella leans back against the seat and looks out at the water as she listens to Quinn answer all the questions and talk about the lake. Luke absentmindedly played with a few strands of Stella's hair as he also zoned out looking out at the water. 

Stella brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arm around her knees, resting her chin on top of them. She bounces in her seats at the waves quinn goes over, a laugh leaving her lips when her mother starts to shout at quinn and stand up “I’m kidding it's going to be fine” Quinn laughed as he watched his mom stand up, wanting to get away from the splashes of water. 

A surprised gasp leaves Stella's lips and her body stills when she feels a cold chill run through her body, as she feels water come up and splash her in the face and neck. Everyone laughs on the boat as she hurriedly wipes off the water from her face, a loud laugh coming from quinn’s lips when stella whines “Quinnnn” Jack smiles and takes his hat off and drops it on Stella's head, protecting her face from the water. 

Quinn gives the camera a big grin before shrugging his shoulders “oops.” 

“What's the five for?” Kate asks Quinn as she motions towards the garage wall where four numbers in blue spray paint were written. 43,86,43 and 5. Quinn, Kate and the rest of the crew where in the garage, filming quinn as he shot some pucks, showing off the ‘shooting room.’ 

Quinn paused to catch his breath and turned to look back at the wall, memories flooding through his mind of him and his siblings all putting their number on the wall after the ‘shooting room’ was done. A great memory. Quinn smiled fondly as he looked at kate “Oh that's stella number when she used to play.” 

“And I'm guessing those are hers too” Kate laughed as she pointed at the light pink skates that had a bunch of different stickers on them, the laces pink as well. Quinn chuckles and nods as he looks back at the skate's jack had gotten her a year ago, while Luke got her a new pack of stickers “yeah those are stella’s, she likes coming down and shooting with us.” 

“Is she any good?” the producer asks, even though he already knew the answer. All the brothers have mentioned Stella's hockey skills before.  Quinn leans down to take off his skates, ready to show them the next thing on the schedule. Quinn smirks at the camera “She's my sister, of course she is.” 

At the end of the video the camera is filming all the guys playing a friendly skirmish, and you can see Stella sitting on the bench cheering for Cole who was on a breakaway! 

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( I bet you all can guess who she was texting !!! I just know the fans would eat the content up !!! I know it’s short but I didn’t really want to put a lot of Stella in this video, just a perfect amount where the fans would want more of her !!! )

°. — taglist ( @privatemythss @cixrosie @toasttt11 @lxvelyzoe @bunbunbl0gs @lovings4turn x )

[celestialtarot11]

Astrology Observations 🤍✨

Hi friends! Welcome back to another post 💅🏻 today we’ll be looking at astro observations! Please like, comment and reblog to help this blog grow ✨

Aries + Taurus pairing as friends/couple are the show stoppers. They draw attention wherever they go, there’s so much fire between them. Although Taurus is an Earth sign, Taurus does enjoy the finer things in life and passion! Aries helps to bring the heat in the connection and the two have a lot in common. Aries is headstrong, Taurus is as well. Both are self starters and independent. Both know what they want (taurus is a fixed sign) and both know what it takes to create + sustain it.

Aquarius sun experienced being the quiet one in group settings, especially if they were with people they didn’t necessarily understand or get along with. Its not that they aren’t smart, or capable of human interaction. They’re actually great at it, they just preserve their energy for better people/interactions.

Gemini’s love to story tell and embellish their stories! They love adding jokes, flare, and drama to their stories. They’re a bit like Leo-great at storytelling and communicating! Both Leo and Gemini love to entertain 🤍✨

Transits in your 4th house-family will require your attention more, and specifically the Mother could be around a lot more. Physically, emotionally and mentally even if you may not have a great connection. She may try to wiggle her way in your life during these 4th house transits. If you work with ancestors, they will be sending you dreams and messages day to day even more than usual. Expect the things that you need to liberate yourself from will come up in dreams, or day to day. Dreaming of your childhood for example can be triggering to some, whether the dream was good or bad.

Sagittarius are often quiet but have a lot to say when in a proper group setting. They think a lot of the world around them, and I notice they like to be in situations where they can mansplain 🤣 but offering advice and mediating conversations is their specialty. They’re blunt, honest, and get to the point.

Leo women often walk with a lot of respect, flare and spirit. Their head is held high.

Cancer women love going out and love staying home! They have their homebody moments too 💅🏻 cancers love a good time! And are not stuck in their shell as ya’ll may think

Cancer women may also be the type to have fairy tattoos, or tattoos that are delicate. They have tattoos that have a whimsical charm to them, even if it may be considered “dark.” There is an ethereal vibe to it!

Virgo women love planning, decorating and getting family together! Or who they consider family. They love setting the mood, setting the atmosphere, environment. They would be great party planners/wedding planners!

Pisces women may be into cars 👀

Scorpio moon women may get into nursing at some point or considered studying that!

Gemini women may love doing their own nails, and being proud of their art! They love to show off anything that expresses their skill.

Gemini Venus women want to speak different languages but may get frustrated at the effort required 😂 as a gemini venus myself yes

Capricorn moon women may enjoy having a minimalistic setup in their room, colors that are light and simple, but with a dash of darkness or vivid color! They love creating balance in their room and have an eye for intensity through detail

Leo rising commands all the attention in the room for themselves. But I’ve noticed if a Leo rising is not feeling confident in themselves, they can come across as arrogant, and self absorbed. It’s because part of them needs their own attention and space, but the native isn’t realizing that. Or the native doesn’t know how to meet their needs.

Thank you all for being here! I really appreciate it 🥹💗 Please enjoy the little observations I put together! Feel free to like comment and reblog ✨

Paid Readings 💗✨

[dhorrl]

Conquering No Nut November

Katsuki/Reader

Content/Trigger Warning: Um... edging, overstimulating, spanking, praise/degradation, a lot of cussing, some CNC vibes if you squint, maybe some more, you've been warned.

Katsuki had always prided himself on his self-control. He believed that he could conquer any challenge that came his way, whether it was in his training as a hero or in his personal life.

So when Eijiro and Denki suggested the infamous 'No Nut November' challenge, he scoffed at the idea. It was just another silly trend, and it couldn't be that hard.

The first few days were easy. Katsuki was used to pushing himself to the limit, and denying himself pleasure was just another challenge to conquer.

But as the days went by, he struggled more than he ever thought he would. It wasn't like he enjoyed denying himself pleasure, it was agonizing. Everywhere he looked, there seemed to be reminders of what he couldn't have.

And you...you seemed to take great pleasure in teasing him. You would wear his oversized t-shirts or your Dynamight-themed pajama pants around the house, purposely brushing against him as you passed by. You would even crawl into bed with him at night, whispering dirty words in his ear and sending shivers down his spine.

Katsuki's leg bounced furiously as he anxiously watched the seconds tick by on his phone, his eyes darting between you and the clock. You were sound asleep next to him, unaware of the restless beast lying beside you.

As the clock struck midnight, Katsuki shook you awake with a sudden force, causing you to jolt up in shock. "What the hell, Katsuki? I have work tomorrow," you groaned, rubbing your bleary eyes. You noticed the predatory gleam in his eyes and laughed, a mistake you would later regret.

With a vicious grin, Katsuki leaned down and whispered in your ear, "I already called your boss and told him you won't be in tomorrow." Your eyes widened; you knew you were fucked right then and there.

Katsuki pinned your wrists above your head with one hand while using his body to hold you down. You could feel the weight and strength of his muscles as they pressed against yours, sending tingles through your body.

"You're gonna make up for every second I spent waiting for tonight, princess. And if you try to close those pretty thighs of yours, I swear I'll tie you up and make you regret for it," he growled, his voice low and menacing. "Now, are you gonna be a good girl?" His scarlet eyes held a fierceness that left no room for argument.

The sudden change in Katsuki's demeanor startled you, but it also made your thighs clench. He had always been dominant and possessive, but this was on a whole other level. Your body couldn't deny its response as wetness pooled between your legs at his commanding presence.

With a shaky breath, you nodded in agreement. Katsuki chuckled darkly, pleased with your submission, before trailing kisses down your neck and toward your chest.

In a swift motion, he tore through your shirt and exposed your bare breasts, his pupils dilating as he took in every detail before lowering his head to take one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucked greedily while his free hand massaged and pinched the other one. You gasped, arching your back to him. Katsuki gave a low growl of satisfaction before switching sides and lavishing the same attention onto the other breast.

While his tongue was at work, he moved his hand down between your legs. He shoved your panties to the side, his fingers teasing around your entrance before sliding inside of you without warning. Your back arched further as he started pumping them in and out of you at a steady pace.

"That's it, get yourself so fuckin' wet for me. Can't wait to bury my dick inside your sweet, dripping pussy," his sat back on his haunches, his eyes glued to your slick folds as they sucked in his thick fingers.

"Fuck..." You muttered under your breath as Katsuki worked his magic inside of you. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to release already. Katsuki usually loved this part, watching you fall apart under him, but instead, he pulled his fingers out of you and slid his black boxers off before positioning himself between your legs.

"Here's how this is gonna go. You don't get to come until I say so, no matter how much you beg," his was voice a husky whisper that was almost terrifying. "Every complaint, every tear, I'm just gonna make it harder for you. I'm going to edge you to fuckin' oblivion. And if you think the furniture's gonna survive the night, well, you're in for a rough surprise. Say it; tell me you understand."

He gave you a stern look before leaning down and capturing your lips again, pulling at it aggressively with his teeth. You nodded your head, and despite everything, you both knew this was what you had wanted all along, to push him over the edge into a frenzy. "I'm sorry, I'll be good... I promise I won't cum..."

With your promise hanging in the hair, he thrusts into you with a force that rattles the bed frame, the first of many blows to come, his hips moving against yours slowly at first but gradually picking up speed as he buries himself deep inside of you.

"Shit! Those fuckheads were right, this is gonna get intense as fuck." He pushes your thighs further apart, watching the way your cunt swallows his cock. "You're gonna get it as hard as you can handle, and then some."

He pulled back almost all the way, before slamming into you again and again, feeling the pressure building hard and fast; thirty days of starving for your touch had finally reaching its peak. His nails dug into the flesh of your hips, his whole body tensing as he shot hot ropes of cum inside you, his eyes going cross at the first of many releases.

"Look what you fuckin' do to me," he grunts, his hips never stopping their movements. "Making me cum like some fuckin' virgin."

You cried out under him, trying to hold back your own orgasm despite his relentless thrusts. But you couldn't resist as he pushed you to the edge, tears streaming down your face as you screamed and apologized. Your body betrayed you, tightening around him.

"I'm sorry, no. I'm sorry, I'm cumming... fuck, fuck, fuck!" Your orgasm washing over you despite his demand. Through it all, his eyes burned with a dangerous mix of emotions - rage, satisfaction, and possessiveness.

"You little—" Katsuki's growl rumbles from deep within his chest as he feels your inner walls contract around him. "I told you not to cum," he hisses, his voice laced with a dangerous edge.

Yet, he can't help the depraved satisfaction that courses through him at your disobedience. Your body's betrayal is his ultimate triumph. He doesn't relent, not even for a moment.

With a fierce grip, he pulls you up against him, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that's more teeth and dominance than tenderness. He devours your moans, swallows your apologies, and when he finally pulls back, a string of saliva connects your panting mouths.

Katsuki bares his teeth into a feral grin, one that is as equally scary as it is arousing. He flips you onto your stomach roughly, your face pressed into the mattress as he pulls your hips up, leaving you exposed and vulnerable. Without warning, his hand comes down hard on your ass, leaving a stinging imprint that quickly turns into a welt. You bite back a sob, knowing that the marks will be there for days.

"You gotta pay for it, princess," he swears, his voice dripping with a dark promise. "You're gonna be so fucked out, you won't even remember what it was like to not feel me inside you."

He thrusts back into you with a renewed hunger, his punishing rhythm designed to be your punishment. Each slam of his hips against your thick ass is a testament to his unyielding dominance.

"Are you sorry now, huh? Are you?" He punctuates each word with a forceful thrust, ensuring you feel the weight of your mistake. His hands grip your hips to reminds you who's in control.

"You're gonna be begging me to let you cum again, and next time, you'll wait for my permission. We clear?" Katsuki's voice cuts through the haze of pleasure and pain, demanding your compliance even as he continues the onslaught that promises to leave you wrecked, raw, and utterly at his mercy.

"You're mine. All fucking mine."

His eyes are filled with fire as he watches you struggle beneath him, your body writhing in a delicious agony of guilty pleasure and frustration. Katsuki's grunts and groans fill the room, a symphony of raw desire that highlights every motion.

The sound of his skin slapping against yours mingled with the wet squelch of his cum mixed with your juices, is a carnal melody that speaks to the animalistic show. "Hear that, babe? Your pussy's so fuckin' greedy for me. It's been starved, and now its devouring me whole."

At least in this position, you thought, he wasn't hitting your now sensitive clit, the cluster of nerves pulsing and aching. Your pussy, however, clutches onto his cock, as if it didn't want to let him go.

"Don't fuckin' tighten up like that without permission," he hissed through his teeth. His hand finds your ass again, another sharp smack resonating through the room, the pain mingling with the pleasure in a heady cocktail that threatens to overwhelm your senses.

"You're gonna learn to follow orders," he breathes out, his breaths coming in ragged bursts as he continues to batter into you. "You're gonna learn the hard way, and you're gonna fuckin' love every second of it."

He snakes a hand around to find your clit, his fingers teasing the swollen nub with a cruel gentleness. He circles it, applying just enough pressure to have you teetering on the edge again, purposefully making his orders nearly impossible.

"Feel that, ya' little shit? That's what you get for being such a tease," he sneers, his words cutting through the fog of your lust. "You're not cumming until I say. You can beg, but you're not getting it. Not yet."

You nearly lost it right there, bordering right on the ledge and gripping the sheets until your knuckles were white when you felt him pull out, flipping you around again and yanking you from the bed.

His hands cupped your ass as he lifted you up and pushed you against the dresser before sliding into you again. The dresser creaks under the assault, the wood splintering with each savage thrust. Katsuki is a force of nature, unstoppable and wild, his grip on your body unyielding as he drives you against the failing furniture.

Your back is pressed against the dresser's cool surface, the hardware digging into your skin like a searing brand. Katsuki's lips find your neck, shoulder, and any skin within reach as he marks you with his teeth and tongue.

With a final, brutal thrust, the dresser gives way, cracked beneath them in a racket of splintering wood. Unfazed, Katsuki easily supports you as he pushes you until your back is against the wall.

"You're doing good, real good," he grunted, his own restraint wavering as he felt the familiar coil of his own climax building within him again. "But remember, you don't get to come. I need to hear you beg for it like your fuckin' life depends on it."

As Katsuki's cock hits that perfect spot, you become a blabbering mess, unable to form coherent thoughts, your entire body tingling as you feel something hitting you, an orgasm like you've never had. Your eyes roll back in your skull, drool dripping down your chin, pleading with him.

"Please, please, Katsuki! I'm so sorry! Let me cum, please, baby. I'm sorry I was mean, but please let me cum," you plead, desperate for permission to let go.

"That's my good girl," he praises, a perverse tenderness lacing his voice even as he fucks into you, unrelenting. "You finally get it, don't you? This is where you belong, under me, taken, and thoroughly fucked."

His broad hands splay over your ass cheeks as he holds you, his arms barely straining under your weight. He feels your body tremble, he can taste the tension in the air.

"You wanna cum so bad, huh? You think you've earned it?" Katsuki taunts, his grip on you tightening as he feels you on the brink.

"Fine. Cum. But when you do, you better scream my name so loud, everyone in this fucking building hears you."

He delivers a few more punishing thrusts before you tip over, watching you unravel, your orgasm tearing through you with the force of a tempest. He joins you in release, his own orgasm roaring through him, a torrent of heat and possession as he marks you from the inside once more.

Even as the waves of your orgasm subside, Katsuki doesn't stop. His stamina is relentless, and he's already hardening inside you again, ready to continue the night's carnage.

He walks back to the bed, throws you across the edge, and slides back into your cunt, his grip unyielding as he continues to claim you, over and over, an endless cycle of pleasure and domination.

Your body trembles and writhes beneath him, your skin slick with a sheen of sweat as he fucks you. Your voice echoes off the walls as you beg for more, for him to take you harder and deeper. He grunts in approval, his grip on your thighs tightening, all his focused on the grip of your slick pussy on his cock.

"Fuck... pussy feels so goddamn good. Was made just for my dick."

The room smells of sex and sweat, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the air. His cock is thick and slick inside of you, hitting all the right spots and sending waves of pleasure through your body. The bed creaks and groans under the pressure, but neither of you care.

As another wave of pleasure crashes over you, he pulls out and pumps his hand up and down his length, his hot cum spilling across your chest in thick spurts.

Breathless and sweaty, he gazed down at you with satisfaction as his cum dripped down your breasts. He leaned down to lick some of it off your skin before trailing kisses down your stomach. "You're so gorgeous," he murmured, his lips hovering over the heat between your legs. With a mischievous grin, he thrust his tongue out and began to lap at your sensitive clit.

"Katsuki! It's too much!" you moaned, but he growled against your flushed skin. He didn't care that you were overwhelmed and covered in his sweat and cum; it only made him want you more.

"I don't give a damn," he said huskily, "I love how you taste. It drives me crazy."

His nails leave red marks on your skin as he keeps you from squirming away, determined to make you come undone beneath him. And when he feels you start to tighten around him, he doubles his efforts, pulling your hips flush with his face and alternating between sucking on your clit and thrusting his tongue into your entrance.

"You wanted to come, so I'm making you come," he purred, his voice dripping with desire. "All over my face, babe, right fucking now!"

He buries his face deeper inside you, using every trick in his arsenal to bring you to the edge of bliss before finally pushing you over it with expert precision. You cry out his name as you come undone, your body shaking and heart racing as he works you like a finely tuned instrument.

Just as you start to come down from your high, he pulls away and looks up at you with a satisfied smirk, relishing in the sight of your glistening skin and glazed eyes.

"You ready for more, babe?" he asks, his tone deceptively gentle as he begins to position you again, his intentions anything but tender. "Cause I've got plenty left for you."

He showed no signs of slowing down as his hands and lips worship at the alter of your body. This was what it meant to be owned by Katsuki, to give yourself over completely to his every desire and whim.

And in this moment, that's exactly where you wanted to be. Completely and utterly his.

~~

Hours later, the room is a war zone of broken furniture and scattered clothes, proof of your untamed debaucheries. Katsuki lies beside you, his breathing slowly evening out as he comes down from the adrenaline high. The sheen of sweat on his muscular form glistens in the early morning sun, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips despite the exhaustion that threatens to pull him under.

You lie next to him, your hand reaching over to lace with his. Your body is slick and the scent of sex hangs heavy in the room. "Katsuki, babe... Not that I didn't enjoy every second of that, but don't ever do 'No Nut November' again. I don't think my birth control can stand up to the amount of cum you just loaded into me."

His chest rumbles with a low, raspy chuckle at your words, and he turns his head to look at you with a mixture of fondness and smugness. His blonde hair is mussed from your earlier activities, and the sheets are tangled around your bodies. "Yeah, no kidding. That was some next-level shit," he admits, a hint of pride laced within his exhaustion. "But it was worth every fuckin' second."

Katsuki slips out of bed, his naked form moving gracefully as he grabs a towel and a warm, wet washcloth. Despite the roughness of your earlier endeavors, his touch is gentle now as he wipes the sweat and remnants of your lovemaking from your skin with a tenderness that belies his usual demeanor.

He carefully presses the damp cloth to your flushed skin and cleans you up, making sure to get every inch of you. His touch lingers on your thighs, stomach, and breasts, gently tracing over the red and purple marks blooming across your skin. "You did good, princess. Took everything I dished out and then some," he says with affection in his voice. "You're fuckin' incredible, you know that?"

He leans down to press a soft kiss against your lips before fetching a glass of water and bringing it to your mouth. His red eyes are attentive, watching you for any sign of discomfort or need.

"Drink up, princess," he coos as the cool liquid soothes your dry throat, "I know your ass needs it after that." His red eyes are fixed on you, making sure you're okay after such an intense session. "I love you," he whispers before pressing another kiss to your forehead and snuggling into bed with you.

"We're not doing that no-nut bullshit again. You're too much of a tease and I'm too much of a beast to hold back for that long," he smirks, pulling you close into his check. As your bodies lie entwined in the aftermath of carnal destruction, his chin rests gently atop your head and his love surrounds you like a protective cocoon.

[deanoheartspie]

hi:) can you please do soldier boy x reader where reader is from Butcher's team and very shy and kinda afraid of soldier boy and one night when everyone is sleeping she is awake (in her fluffy pyjamas which soldier boy finds cute) and eating she realizes soldier boys shield is there and starts examining/touching it AND of course suddenly soldier boy is right behind her so she gets scared but he makes jokes etc so they start talking

Well aren't you cute

Pairing: Y/n fem! x Soldier boy

Warnings: none.

A/n: feel free to send me more asks! I hope I did well!

Y/n had been with Butcher for a few months, working along his side with a few others like Hughie. Butcher complained and cussed as he wondered how they'd possibly take down Homlander little did he know what was coming.

••••

Next thing Y/n knew she was sitting in a motel quietly watching the news when Butcher and Hughie walked in with no other than Soldier Boy... “Well well, what do we have here... A cute lady it seems” the man states with a teasing smirk, her ears red and she turns off the TV disappearing off to the bathroom to hide out.

The woman was never good at being around new people, it made her nervous and shy so sometimes she needed a moment to herself to ease the nerves. When she came out she was dressed in her favorite pink fluffy pajamas that kept her nice in warm in shitty motels such as this one.

Butcher and Hughie were nowhere in sight, they had sent her a text that they had separate motel rooms but that she was in charge of Soldier Boy. She didn't see the man around so she assumed he was tucked away in bed, so digging through her backpack she pulled some snacks out and watched TV. The sound of her bag rustling, chatter coming from the screen of people trying to guess the answers on a game show that was rigged when she heard footsteps behind her causing the woman to freeze.

“Seems like you know how to dress for a party” He snickered, looking her up and down in all honesty he found the pajama set fitting and overall cute since that was exactly what she was.

She blushed and pulled her hands out of the chip bag ripping her hands on some napkins, she didn't say a single word to him but she couldn't help but notice the shield proped up against the bed. “Woah...” the details on the shield were beautiful, she's never been this close to something like this before and honestly? It was pretty cool, it was quite heavier then she thought it would be.

“How did you carry this all the time?” she softly asks her eyes sparkling curiosity.

“Theres handle on the back of it sweetcheeks.” Ben lifts it up like it weighs nothing, which it most likely wasn't heavy at all for him.

As they night went on, the tv was still playing in the background as they both cuddled in the bed while she tried her hardest to explain technology to him, it was not going very well.

“This shit is stupid. Why make everything harder then it needs to be?” Ben huffed out trying to figure out how to work an iPhone.

“You can ask all the rich people that” she whispered with a slight shrug.

•••••

“Good night sweetcheeks.”

[indecisive-capricorn]

Headcanons to Dating Yandere Tom Riddle:

WARNINGS: MDNI! Yandere, stalking, implied dubcon, mentions of sex, violence, mentions of blood, mentions of breeding, mentions of wife, mentions of marriage, etc.

SUMMARY: A chance to experience what dating Tom Riddle is like, even when it's against your will to do just that.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, this headcanons leans more into dating Yandere Tom Riddle but technically, even without the yandere and dark part, he will do questionably dark things for his partner. I'm planning to make other headcanons that goes into details about that specific situation. For example, a "Headcanons to Dark Tom Riddle x Pregnant Wife Reader"

MASTERLIST: Feel free to check out my other works! :)

It doesn't matter where you come from, alright? Although it's important for Tom to have an excellent muggle free reputation, Tom has his ways to make sure any history you have with muggles are erased. No one knows your precise history because of it either, but according to their Dark Lord, you were a witch from a fine family in France. While that might have been true, what they didn't know was how you were actually a rebel and fought against him for a time until he kidnapped you.

You left him with no choice! He was infatuated with you due to your strength and infamous beauty. Tom kept on sending you gifts, invitations to balls even and attempted to bait you to become Dumbledore's spy in order to get closer to you. However, you rejected all his gifts and invitations, burning them into the fireplace as soon as they arrived.

You were intelligent enough to know about his plan, but as evil and cruel as Tom was, he was also a genius.

When Tom kidnapped you, you had screamed all the curses in the world at him, refusing for him to even touch you. However, it silenced down when you saw several death eaters pointing their wands to the necks of your little sister and other family members.

You were a rebel and if Tom tried to take you with the threat of hurting your family, he knew you would continue to reject him. After all, actions speak louder than words, and as the death eaters began to torture your family, you finally got on your knees and pleaded for him to stop. Tom was more than pleased with your actions, but to ensure that you will stay true to your promise, he demanded a kiss from you, which you reluctantly gave in the form of a peck on the lips.

Though Tom had spared your family, he will make sure you never see them again. One way or another, no matter how many times you plead and beg to see them, he will rip you away from your family for the sole reason so that your focus would not waver from him. Yeah, he's that possessive of you.

Speaking of being possessive, Tom from the beginning of the relationship will always make sure you are covered in the finest silk and most rarest yet stunning jewellery. You might try to refuse them at first, but you don't quite get it. All of the fine dresses, luxurious clothes and expensive jewellery that he had picked out for you was also his way to tell others that you're his, that you're his possession. Try to refuse it and he will punish you.

There are various of punishments Tom can give you. It depends on what you have done that made him measure how severe the punishment should go, but it also depended on his mood. If Tom was only lightly jealous, he'll most likely just leave marks on you like hickeys and bruises. However, if Tom was severely jealous.. then prepare yourself. Tom had once fucked you in front of two of your old friends whom he had taken as prisoner as a way to humiliate you after you had tried to communicate with them in their cells. Just don't defy him, okay? It won't end up good for you.

Other than that though, Tom will take care of you. He feeds you well, pampers you and even shower you with affection from time to time, which you always try to refuse. Tom tries to spend some time with you whenever he has the time, even with the ongoing war. Tom doesn't usually allow you to be out of the manor, but with his company, he allows you to wander around the garden and as much as you hate his company, a bit of fresh air will certainly do you good after being stuck inside for a long time.

However, with all that, he expects you to do your duties as well. You both might not be married yet, but Tom already views you as his wife, the only thing lacking is a wedding ring between your fingers and a ceremony. It will happen sooner than later. But due to it, you became the lady of the manor is your job to make sure that everything was going well in your 'home', telling the servants on what they must do to keep the cleanliness of the house.

And oh, on that note, you're not able to ask for them to help you escape. You learnt that the hard way because the day after you had tried to ask them, all of their tongues had disappeared, unable to speak properly anymore.

Tom desires to flaunt you to the public after making your relationship with him 'official'. However, he will only start bringing you to balls after he was sure that you will behave and Tom might just make a potion to help with that. He considers it as one of the duties you have to perform as his partner. But oh my, you do look ravishing in that tight dress he picked out for you.

At times during the night, you found Tom rubbing your stomach, eyes full of desire, as he thought fondly of children. He had been unsure of starting a family before. Of course Tom needed an heir, but he didn't think he would ever find himself wanting more children until he met you. It didn't matter if you didn't want children. Sooner or later, before or after marriage, you will be swollen with his child. And what better way to ensure an heir than start now?

[staytinyville]

Stay Alive (1)

BTS ot7 x Reader

Magical Creatures AU

Series Masterlist

Warnings: None

A/N I am very excited for this story! It has a good amount of world building that I enjoy doing so much! I took inspiration from Stay Alive by Jungkook/Suga in case you guys didn’t know! The beginnings are of course slow but that’s how most stories are to build up the tension. I hopeful for this story and I hope you all like it! Please feel free to ask if you want to be added to the taglist!

People walk among the same earth constantly. However the thing that sets us apart is the path we all take. Sometimes it's the same, other times it's the opposite. Some of us are meant for higher things while some are meant to suffer until things start to look up for us all. 

In a lifetime sometimes we won’t ever get the chance to see ourselves reach the peak we want. There are struggles we all face that will cause setbacks in the path we are taking. Only the ones who are strong enough to see the road to the end make it out alive. 

There will always be those out there who will achieve their goals in life some way or another. Those are the ones who don’t allow those setbacks to dictate their entire life. And maybe along the way someone will come along to help you grow stronger. Whether it’s one person or a whole group. You will see to the end of your path one way or another. 

“Most often than not you will be working on filing. If we are understaffed on a day, like today, we might send you in to write reports on the medicine we have already administered.” Suho, the lady who was placed as your preceptor, explained to you.

You had a grateful smile on your face, happy to finally get to start working. While it wasn’t the place you had been hoping for, you knew the pay was well for the kind of student debts you had. The pharmaceutical lab was meant to administer different kinds of medicines to the people who would sign up for a trial. They did the test on patients before they were given out to people. 

While you were being placed on the front desk for the most part, you knew you would need to work your way up to the spot you wanted and you were more than happy to reach for it. 

“What kind of medicine do you guys make?” You asked, trying to think about all that you had read on the company's website. 

It didn’t really give much about what they focus on so you found it really odd that they were so wide when it came to the things they were trying to cure. 

“You applied here and don't even know?” Suho frowned, looking at you appalled.

“I tried asking at the interview but they just gave me vague answers.” You explained. “The website doesn't tell you anything either.”

“We are very on top of the things we do here at HYBE.” She began to tell you. “There aren’t many people we trust to be hired onto the team so consider yourself lucky to be apart of it.”

“We make sure that our patients here are taken care of because we are a company that is trying hard to reach their goals. Because of that we are detail oriented when it comes to the patients we accept. Not just anyone can be a patient here.” 

While she did a bit more about the kind of company you were working at, it still didn’t really tell you about what it was you were working for. You didn’t choose to question it, knowing that the paycheck they gave you was a luxury for a lot of people. 

“Here are some of your patients for the day. They have already been given the medicine, it's up to you to check up on them for daily research.” You took the six files the lady handed you, nodding your head. 

You placed them onto the small desk area they had given you before going through them to check on the appointment times and ordering them correctly. The first one on your list should be waiting in the lobby by now so you were quick to take the papers and move along to the waiting room.

“Mrs. Han?” You called, a smile on your face. 

An older woman with a younger one came to a stand, slowly shuffling over to where you waited for them at the door. 

“Hello, Mrs. Han. How are you today?” You asked politely, leading the two women towards the scale. 

“I'm doing great! I'm so excited to share some news about the medicine you gave me.” The older woman exclaimed, a bright smile on her face. 

You hummed, keeping the friendly look as you wrote down her weight on the paper. You told them to follow you to a patient room to speak to her privately. 

“I see it was something for your dementia.” You spoke, moving the laptop in the room closer so you could take down everything the lady would tell you. “Is everything going okay?”

“It's wonderful!” The other lady exclaimed for her mother. At least you assumed it was her daughter from the notes that people already had written for you. Her daughter was the one who was in charge of all Mrs. Han’s things.

“You would not believe it but it's almost as though she's regressed in her illness! Mother was in a terrible state when she was offered this trial medicine. She took it and suddenly it was almost like she went back to before it grew to be terrible.”

You tried to write down what the woman was saying, but you knew there were more questions to ask before concluding the entire meeting. 

“Maybe she can get back to normal if she takes more.” The daughter spoke in a hopeful tone. 

“One step at a time, Mrs. Byun.” You kept the smile on your face so as to not let them think they weren’t going to find the help they needed. “We have to see how long this medicine will last first before giving her more doses.” You explained.

“Also, memory loss is nothing to be overly worried about if it's on occasion. Even I forget something's as well.” You told them. 

If there was one thing you studied, it was medicine. You knew the consequences of taking too much or too little. This company was in the slow movement of developing them so they had to be careful about how they administered their projects. People probably came in thinking they could get more if they worked perfectly the first time. However these kinds of things were tests, not the real deal.

“Of course.” Mrs. Byun nodded in understanding. 

The rest of the visit went by smoothly as you took down all the older woman’s rants and aches about the whole thing. With these kinds of surveys it was really about asking how each patient felt even if it was the smallest of things. You wouldn’t be able to tell if it had to do with the medicine or with something else.

As you told Mrs. Han and her daughter goodbye, scheduling the next appointment, the rest of you patient trickled in one-by-one. 

There was a man who had come in for a bad liver–he was an avid drinker–so the medicine was for corrosion to that organ. While you really tried not to say something about it, you felt annoyed that the man had explained that he still had a drink every once in a while. He was like Mrs. Han, the medicine was doing wonders. 

There was a child who had chickenpox, who’s mother explained that the rash that had taken over her son’s body was slowly dwindling down. Another lady who had come in for amnesia which only said that her memory was returning to before she had gotten into an accident. The others had external injuries like scrapes of their knees or a deep cut that needed stitches. From what you could see they were just given some sort of pain medication. They had expressed that their wounds didn’t hurt and it was actually healing at a fast rate. 

“They really work with a lot of medicine.” You spoke to yourself as you looked over the last file you had. You frowned your eyebrows when you saw the patient was in another level of the building. It was the lower levels, which meant in the basement of sorts. From what you knew that was where the labs were. 

“That's odd.” You tilted your head in confusion but made your way over to the elevators anyway. With your ID card, you pressed onto one of the underground levels, leaning back against the metal wall. When the doors opened, you were met with a lobby that had a couple of different doctors moving about. 

Following the signs, you found the door that led to some of the rooms patients were stationed in. You showed the security guard your ID explaining you were in that level of the building to check up on a patient. He took a look at the file you had in your hand, humming as he opened a door to the back for you. 

Overlooking the file once more to make sure you had the right number, you quietly counted the doors. As you passed by one, you felt a shiver go down your back causing you to halt in your tracks. The number three stared back at you as a weird feeling flowed over your shoulders. It felt like something was brushing up against them, pushing at your form. 

You quickly turned back around making your way to the room next to it. You checked over the file one more time. It didn’t really give you much about the medicine the patient had been given. All it said was that they were someone who was meant to be staying in the building for better observation. There were a couple of papers that you seemed to be missing, you noticed.

Before opening the door, you knocked politely. “Hello?” You softly called as you stuck your head in. 

The only light on was the bedside lamp which illuminated the dark room. You frowned at the aspect of there being no windows that would allow light from outside to come in. As you walked in closer, you let go of the door to have it shut by itself. “Mr. Jeon?”

“Who are you?” You gasped, nearly tripping on your feet from the hard flinch you felt take over. 

You took in the man who was standing behind you, trying to regulate your breathing. He only looked at you with a raised brow, his expression passive. You took up his large form, noticing the blue scrubs he wore were almost tight around his physic. He didn’t wear any shoes–was even foregoing to wear socks. 

“Oh,” You said as your breath returned to your lungs. “My name is (Y/N). Today is my first day so I guess I'll be your new nurse.” You explained to him.

“What are you doing here?” As he took a step closer to you, you subconsciously took one back. “You don't deserve to be here.” His voice went quiet as his eyes turned soft. 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you took in his worried expression, smiling awkwardly as you patted your hands to wipe the sweat forming on them. 

“I needed a job. Got school debt to pay off.” You tried to joke with him. He looked too serious, which made you anxious to touch him for his vitals. “I'm here to do a check up. Would you mind?” You asked, trying to build up the courage to get close to him. 

He didn’t say anything, just poked his cheek with his tongue, moving to the bed. You smiled in thanks, looking around the room to find the equipment needed. You purse your lips when you realize you would need to check his heart rate manually. Finding the padding needed to place around his arm, you made your way over to the man.

He flinched back as your hands moved to touch his arm, causing you to stop. “I’m going to check your heart rate.” You explained, remembering that you were the kind of person to make sure people knew what it was you were going to do. 

As he kept his dark eyes on you, he allowed you to softly touch his scrub sleeve as you moved the fabric up to place the padding in the right area of the arm. You moved your stethoscope from around your neck. “It’s going to be a bit cold.” You whispered. 

As you moved on with the check up, you watched the numbers on the dial move carefully counting to yourself. When you finished getting what you needed, you quickly let go of the air and moved the padding off his arm. As you did that, your eyes seemed to blur over the ink the man had. 

Your fingers gently squeezed his bicep, softly moving down the length of his arm. Your gaze drifted over each color and picture the man had, trying to figure out where one picture ended and the next started. As your fingers glided over his pulse on his wrists, the man involuntarily shivered at the touch. 

“Sorry.” You quickly pulled back, looking back up at him. “Your tattoos are really nice. I've never seen so many.” You bashfully smiled at him. 

He only looked at you curiously, his big eyes taking in your facial expressions. It made you feel flustered as he looked at you so deeply, causing you to lick your lips and look away. 

“You have a very strong heart. Very good blood flow.” You told him, turning away to write down his vitals. He slowly got off the bed and moved closer to you. 

“It doesn't say which medicine you've been taking which is really weird.” You frowned, looking over all the papers that you were given. There were some things missing but you assumed the high ups were looking over it. 

“You're different.” You jumped at the voice that spoke directly behind you. Turning around you tilted your head up at the man.

“How so?” You asked.

“You're nice.” The boy squinted his eyes at you, like he was trying to figure you out.

“Are the others not?” You frowned.

“Not the ones who come down here.” He told you.

You tried to quickly cover up your upset expression, looking up at the doe-eyed man with a smile. “Well I hope I'm able to come down here again.” You took up the paper you had written on. There wasn’t much explanation on what you had to ask him so you chose to go back up and see if you could figure out what else to do.

“Have a good day, Mr. Jeon.” You smiled brightly, waving from the door.

Jungkook tilted his head to the side as a warmth spread through his chest from your words. Not a day had gone by that he wasn't thinking about the dreaded place as though it was a sentence in hell. He had never met someone like you; someone who spoke to him as though he too was a person.

It made him light headed to think about the way your words affected him. He couldn't think of the last time someone had ever uttered those kinds of words to him. It had been so long-alone thinking this was what life was going to be like for the rest of his life. But suddenly things changed in the blink of an eye.

“Maybe.”

Series Masterlist

[57sfinest]

theoretical entroponetics: the post

okay. LONG post incoming. i have summarized all available information on the pale, separated into confirmed objective truth & in-canon speculation that may or may not be true, and then appended my own very detailed theory on the pale! this post is meant as a resource; please feel free to add things of your own in replies/reblogs (please tag me if you do!) or point out any errors i may have made. you’re welcome to use any of my personal theory in your own work but please credit me if you do!! (and tag me in that/send it to me, i really want to see what you do with it!)

Here’s what we *know* about the pale, according to in-game and concept art: 

It erases data, at least the kind stored on radiocomputer filament and magnetic tapes.

It has no dimensions of its own- pale latitude compressors serve to force dimensions on raw pale and allow navigation. 

The pale is referred to in the context of entropy

It arrived with mankind, but not immediately- there are 8000 years of written history, but the pale was first recorded 6000 years ago, implying that pale either didn’t start forming immediately or that it was so insignificant/distant that it went unnoticed for 2000 years. 

There exists a group of people who are actively trying to expedite entroponetic collapse; the ideology is called entropolism

To this point, pale isn’t immediately visible. Pale has molecular structure, but manifests as a waveform, and only becomes visible at a certain distance from the origin, once wave frequency is sufficiently high. 

During pale exposure, people experience “sense objects”: visual or auditory hallucinations and/or vivid physical recollections of memories. These hallucinations may originate from their own consciousness or someone else’s. c

People require physical and mental examinations before interisolary travel and are allotted a certain number of days per year as their pale exposure threshold. 

Overexposure results in a pale “addiction”- these individuals crave pale exposure, and it’s unclear if this addiction can ever be broken. It’s also unclear whether there is a point at which pale exposure becomes lethal, but given that it dissolves matter, we can be fairly certain that a given length of continuous exposure will kill. 

Radio signals, cold plasma torches and anodic sound are all used to manage the pale to permit travel through it. Plasma torches destabilize the molecular structure of the pale to create gaps, anodic sound widens and maintains these gaps, and radio signals rationalize the pale into recognizable dimensions.

Radio signals are, in return, susceptible to corruption by the pale, resulting in entroponetic crosstalk, where signals from the past or the future are transmitted to the present. CCP is one such phenomenon and is directly related to the formation of new pale through magpie interpretation.

There is a dedicated Union for people who work in and with the pale (the Pale Workers Union). They have two slogans; “The light purifies; The sound absolves; The pale no more” and “Son et Fureur” (sound and fury)

Here’s what we may choose to believe about the pale, based on the thoughts and beliefs of in-game characters:

In conversation with Soona, the pale is described as a “curdling milk” phenomenon: “repulsive, but natural”

In this same conversation you can theorize that the churches were meant to contain the pale origins; out of the seven churches, six were destroyed during the suzerain or the revolution

The phasmid and whatever other lifeforms it’s communicated with believe that entroponetic collapse is comparable to an oxygen holocaust (i.e. the great oxygenation event), implying mass extinction due to a toxic overabundance of sapient thought

Harry refers to it once by saying “The wolf is at the door. It’s going to eat the sun.” so take that as you will

It’s likely that Tiago’s “Mother” is some manifestation from the pale, if you choose to believe that the 2mm hole is in fact a pale origin point (the concept art does confirm it’s a pale origin, but the game offers other explanations, so I won’t say it’s the only answer)

Inframaterialists believe that revolutionary action (NOT thought) may create a counter-force that will prevent the spread of pale; it’s unclear if any reversal is possible.

The world will be fully consumed by the pale in 27 years (I put it here because you may or may not believe that shivers and harry are reliably sourcing this information)

And now my personal speculation about the pale:

A quick and easy point: it’s confirmed that the pale has a measurable EMF “exhalation” frequency that varies with proximity. Strong enough EMF pulses can actually tamper with magnetic storage- radiocomputer filaments! Electronics! Fortress Accident data loss! This gives us a tangible explanation for why pale can delete data :)

This may also explain its ability to cause radio interference- radio frequencies are just a subset of EMF frequencies, so it’s possible that pale exhalation on *just the right frequency* is what’s responsible for the entroponetic crosstalk we get on radios sometimes

The pale canonically has an atomic structure, but it also has wave properties, so it’s possible that the pale has wave-particle duality on its subatomic level, like photons do

Based on this, entroponetics is likely a very similar field to quantum mechanics, which might be an interesting source of ideas for anyone (like me) who wants to explore pale-related possibilities

The pale could be a manifestation of raw patterns. That’s why math “forces dimensions” on it- it rationalizes or “tames” the patterns, which allows it to be manipulated to a certain degree.

There are several references to the pale that refer to mathematical concepts and patterns, saying that the world dissolves into “a tangle of azimuths and cosines” as it blends into the interisolary pale- more on this later

Steban comments that the pale is commonly theorized to be nostalgia or “historical inertia”, but it’s largely agreed that it’s “the past” in a broad sense. Thinking about the idiom that history repeats itself, it could be that history/the past is part of the pattern that comprises the pale, and that it’s also the type of pattern most readily perceived by people (people don’t viscerally *perceive* math, for example, but we experience memories)

To first define entropy: Chemically speaking, “the measure of a system’s thermal energy per unit temperature that is unavailable for doing useful work. (per encyclopedia britannica).” Physically speaking, it’s a measure of randomness or disorder in a system. Less work/less order = more entropy; it’s a physicochemical “winding down” of a given system

It’s commonly thought that pale is the entropic force, but what if it’s the opposite? (Keep in mind the chemical definition: less ability to do work = more entropy) Consider: the pale as less entropic, a cleanup force, recycling the potential lost by death and destruction in the universe. This in part explains why a dead person’s memory is present in the pale- their potential has been recycled into the pale in the form of their memories (their life’s *pattern*)

Enthalpy is a related concept to entropy and is defined as the total energy contained within a system. Holding the system enthalpy constant- saying the universe will always have the same amount of total energy, no matter what, according to thermodynamics- results in an entropic tug-of-war between the pale and the world. The pale wins through sheer inertia (again, inertia is mentioned specifically in game)

Overall: think of the world as “cooling”, losing heat and energy through war and death and complacency. Think of the pale as steam and heat, melting down old materials to start it all over again. (Kim says, *through entroponetic interference*: “it’s been a long, cold winter.”)

Consider: the pale as a sinusoidal function, eternally repeating. The pale recycling the universe to start a new cycle, “spending” itself, resulting in pale not being present in the beginning. Then, as the new things begin to settle- with the advent of the human mind, specifically- the pale reforming, slowly reclaiming potential, eventually ending the cycle to start again.

In comes CCP and magpies. Consider: CCP as a backwards transmission from the next “cycle” (after all, pale has no sense of time). Magpies as *pattern-sensitive* people who are able to decode CCP into something useful called novelty. They reach into the potential of the next cycle to build the potential in their current one- this paradox could be what creates more pale, because (and this is where it gets weird, I apologize) doing this retroactively increases the total amount of energy/work/potential in the current cycle to have been reclaimed by the pale for the next one.

Think of the pale as the compost bin for every single thought in the universe. The pale is the exact right size to compost every little atom and thought in the universe, and can hold nothing extra. But magpies reach into the future, the next cycle, and bring in extra. This paradox forces the pale to grow to accommodate the additional material, which also increases the starting potential of the next cycle. This process allows each cycle to accumulate minor changes from the previous one, which can snowball over many cycles.

Furthermore, to the inframaterialists’ point: revolutionary action would be such a radical shift in inertia that it would increase the potential in the world, forcing the pale to pause/shrink to “balance the equation” in terms of pale-vs-world thermodynamics. So maybe they’re right after all :)

And some diagramming, to explain the utter bullshit I’ve just dropped:

[sunderlust]

you left me no choice but to stay here forever (right where you left me)

masterlist

pairing: jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader (hotshot journalist!reader) 

synopsis: you and jake have been best friends for years and eventually he becomes the love of your life - which makes it that much harder to cope when he starts pulling away with no explanation (based off right where you left me by miss tswift)

wc: 14k (yoo I think I actually may'd)

warnings: angst with a happy ending, explicit language, pining, supposedly unrequited love, kinda sad feels, reader wearing heels.

A shoutout to gretagerwigsmuse and @seasonsbloom - I wouldn't have gotten through this fic period, let alone begun writing in the first place without them. Please check out their writing, send them a sweet message or two <3

AGE SIXTEEN (pages turn and stick to each other)

This is not a date. 

On a crisp Wednesday in October - well, as crisp as it can get in Texas - you find yourself sitting across from your high school’s running back in a greasy booth at your town’s renowned pizza parlor. And even though he’s objectively the hottest guy in your grade - not to mention the fact that he’s kind, well-liked amongst your peers, almost too charming for his own good - there’s no way you would ever go on a date with Jake Seresin. 

For that matter, you’re not even friends. The only reason he’s even here is because you managed to pique his interest with the promise of a free meal in exchange for an interview for the school newspaper. So even though he held the door open for you and let you choose the side of the booth to sit in and even insisted on getting your favorite pizza toppings, you’re not going to let it distract you from doing your job.  

You had been invited to join the school newspaper team in August, but you had yet to write a story featured in the paper. By some stroke of luck, Newsteam President Joe thought you were ready to handle your own solo project: a profile on one of your school’s football players. And while you aren’t exactly thrilled to interview Westwood High School’s star running back you’re determined to deliver a moving, heart wrenching piece about #25 and the trials and tribulations of high school football that’ll have Joe reaching for tissues.  

No one needs to know that you’ve never even been to a football game in your life. 

“Thanks for agreeing to meet with me,” you tell Jake briskly after your waitress walks away after passing you your drinks. You pull out the giant legal notepad you stole from your dad’s study and your favorite ten color shuttle pen, then push down the lever for dark blue ink - for your more serious projects. 

The boy in front of you nods once, stretching both arms out on either side of him to rest on the back of the booth, eyes darting around. “Sure.” 

“So...” you start, then trail off, eyes scanning the list of questions you’d meticulously drafted the night before. You decide to start from the very beginning: “What can you remember about the first time you played with a football?” you ask, and Jake shrugs his shoulders. 

“Blood,” he says simply, and you wrinkle your nose. 

“What? Blood?” 

“Yeah. I was six. My dad was trying to teach me how to catch the ball, and ma kept telling him to use the foam ones but he said they didn’t spiral as well. Ended up pelting a pigskin at me and clocked me right on the nose. I can still feel a bump here,” you briefly look up from rapidly transcribing to watch him idly rub the bridge of his nose with his index finger. 

You nod, scrawling down the details, mentally planning out how you could possibly fit this into an article and thinking of potential titles. Child gets pelted with a football and vows revenge. Becomes Westlake’s Star RB. Pathetic. 

“So you’ve been playing since you were six?” you try to establish a timeline. “Ten years?” 

“No. I joined a youth league when I was nine,” Jake corrects. He doesn’t elaborate. 

You sigh, tapping your pen on your legal pad idly, then another question catches your eye. “What do you enjoy most about football?” you flip over to a clean page and smooth it out, not missing the flash of incredulity on Jake’s face. 

“You kidding? No offense, but these questions suck,” he snickers, and your shoulders sag as you flip back to scan your messy notes. “Do you even want to be doing this little interview?” 

“Do you?” you throw back, angrily, nervously clicking your pen as you try and figure out how you’re going to salvage this meeting, reaching into the crevices of your mind to craft a less sucky, more thought-provoking question. 

The one thing you know about conducting an interview is asking the right question, one that will unleash your subject to go off on their own path and tell their story the way they want to. This way, you find that you get the most details, the most honest perspective. And so far, all you had from Jake was a stupid story about a childhood injury doesn’t lend itself to writing a tear-jerking profile. 

Jake’s smirk doesn’t waver and after a few moments of silence, he relents. “I was promised free pizza. What’s in it for you?” 

You sigh and rest your head back against the worn pleather of the booth seat, squeeze your eyes shut, tighten your grip on your pen as you deliberate his question. “Will you answer my questions if I tell you?” 

“If they’re better questions, yeah.” 

You shoot him a quick glare, then let out a resigned sigh and click your pen, setting it down on top of your scribbled notes. “First off, I hate football. Never even seen a game.” 

“Seriously?” Jake says and folds his arms together to lean in closer over the sticky tabletop. “We live in Texas. You’ve never even watched a game on TV?” 

You shrug ambivalently. “No, it never really caught my interest. I mean, what’s there to watch? Someone screams out a bunch of numbers and then you all just charge at each other to wrestle for five seconds while a stupidly shaped ball gets tossed around? And don’t even get me started on your weird scoring system-” 

“- It makes sense if you actually commit to watching it!” Jake defends hotly, crossing his arms over his chest and looking like he’s trying his hardest to fight a pout. “Why’d they even put you on this article? Doesn’t seem like you give a damn about writing football.” 

“I don’t,” you agree, sitting up straight and daring to look him straight in the eye. At this point, you don’t care how little you know about the stupid sport - you just want Jake to answer your questions so that you can go home and cobble together something, anything to show Joe that you can handle writing your own opinion pieces. “But Joe said if I write a great profile, he’ll print my story about the cafeteria workers.” 

Jake pauses, mentally chews your words. “Seems like he set you up, then, darling,” - your surprise at the sweet name is overtaken by the harsh reality check - “Seeing as he asked you to interview me when you’ve never even been to a game.” 

A wave of clarity washes over you. You didn’t think about it that way - that Joe might have intentionally put you on this project just to watch you struggle, so he could easily shut down your other ideas. You deflate, shrinking into yourself, and your solemn expression suddenly has Jake shaking his head and trying to backpedal.

“Look - hey. I’m sorry. I’m sure... Maybe he’s just testing you to see if you can write things out of your element. Isn’t that the mark of a good newspaper... writer?” 

It kind of makes sense, but the first reason hurts more, resonates with you, and opens the door for self-doubt to stride right in. With how hard you had to fight tooth and nail to even be offered a spot on the school news team, it’s easy to imagine they didn’t want to make things easy for you. Suddenly, you find yourself questioning your writing ability, wondering if you’re really cut out for this. You shrug. “Yeah, maybe.” 

Jake purses his lips, drumming his fingers again on the tabletop. “What’s the story with the cafeteria workers?” 

At this, you perk up slightly, straightening your back and halting your anxious pen tapping. “There’s just been lots of wages being cut, some layoffs early this year and now they’re being asked to work overtime and the supervisors keep changing the schedule around and giving them such a hard time for wanting to take time off. I think they let someone go because they wouldn’t come in when they had the flu. Can you believe that? Someone was literally sick and didn’t go to work in a kitchen where they could easily infect the whole school. And Sandra - you know Sandra the cashier? She told me they’re all planning to walk out in two weeks, which I think is really admirable - but honestly, I think they need someone to talk about their complaints y’know? Let their voices be heard?” 

You stop, finally realizing that you’d been rambling for the better half of a minute about a topic the star running back probably couldn’t care less about. But to your surprise, he’s listening intently, nodding encouragingly, looking contemplative. It’s weird - you’re not used to people being interested in what you have to say. 

It’s nice. 

“Sounds like you’re a lot more keyed up about this story than stupid football,” he finally says with a half smile, and you push down the warm feeling it ignites. 

“Yeah,” you clear your throat and shift uncomfortably, bashfully. “It’s just... It’s what I want to do. Write about real people and real events. Give the silenced a voice. Which I know, it sounds kind of cheesy and idealistic and quixotic - but I don’t care. I just want to make a difference. Maybe win a Pulitzer Prize, I don’t know.”

His eyebrows furrow - maybe he doesn’t know what a Pulitzer is - but he nods thoughtfully. “I mean... Don’t really know what quixotic means, but I don’t think you’re being cheesy. Speaking of cheese, though...” his eyes flit over your shoulder.  

Your waitress interrupts, setting down a large pizza with the toppings of Jake’s choice. He eagerly loads two slices onto his plate and continues his train of thought: “Tell you what: how about I give you a hand with the article? I’ll tell you what you need to know about football, at least.” 

“You’d do that for me?” you ask, and you’re honestly shocked he didn’t just brush off your whole rant about your hopes and dreams, amazed that he’s even offered to help. 

He shrugs and swallows the huge bite he’d taken. “‘Course - but in exchange, you’ll have to go to our games. You know, all my friends come to support me.” 

You first open your mouth to object to having to watch football - then close it, sending him an incredulous look. “We’re friends?” you ask dumbly. 

He shifts, looks the tiniest bit bashful, busies himself with the straw in his drink. “I mean... I’d like to be. Who knows, maybe you’ll be famous one day or you could help me with my English essays - ”

“- You want to be friends so I’ll cheer on you at games and tutor you for free?” you interrupt, narrowing your gaze.

But despite your tone being riddled with annoyance, despite the glare you’re now sending his way, Jake sends you an easy smile, serving himself another slice. “Nah, you just seem pretty cool.” 

-- 

By another stroke of luck, you manage to pump out a puff piece about Jake Seresin - something along the lines of how the first time #25 threw a football was the moment he resolved to never back down after the first hit, to wipe the sweat and blood from his face and keep pushing forward. Joe is more than impressed with the quality of your work - almost surprised, you annoyedly observe - and agrees to run the profile for the following week’s issue, just in time for Westlake’s playoff game. 

On Monday evening, you’re reviewing your interview notes with Sandra the Cashier at your kitchen table when suddenly, the landline rings. “Hello?” you answer, anticipating it to be one of your parents’ friends calling to gossip. The line is silent for a few moments, and you clear your throat to try again. “Anyone there?” 

Suddenly, Jake’s laughter flows into your ear. “‘Never back down’?” he quotes through a wheeze, and you hold back a smile, this time letting yourself feel the butterflies that come alive in your stomach at the sound of his voice. 

“You didn’t give me much to work with for your story!” you tell him with a small giggle. “So I managed to pull this together, and I’d say it’s a heart clencher - a tear jerker, even. Joe’s happy, at least.” 

“He gonna let you write that other thing?” 

“About the cafeteria workers? Working on it right now, actually,” you tell him, twirling the phone coil around your finger idly. 

“Well darling,” Jake says and you feel your heart skip a beat at the sweet name, at the sound of mirth filling his voice, at the memory of his smiling eye crinkles that involuntarily flashes in your mind. “I’ll hold onto this profile, hang it in my gym locker. But let me know when they print that union thing. I’d like to hold onto a future Pyoo-litzer Prize winner’s first ever real story.”

“Pulitzer,” you correct him, and despite your writing hand hurting terribly from all the notes you’ve been scribbling and the slight twinge of a headache from your eyes straining, your heart feels full as ever as you chat with Jake - your new friend -  into the late hours of the night.  

AGE EIGHTEEN (wages earned and lessons learned)

Almost two years later, you find yourself seated across from Jake at your town’s fanciest Italian restaurant. It’s been a while since your waiter has checked in to take your meal orders, but his absence easily slips your mind as the two of you gossip while munching on garlicky breadsticks that are way chewier than you’d like.

After a lull in the conversation, you take a deep breath. “How’s your mom doing?” you carefully ask, taking a sip of your coke to avoid tacking on more words, to fight the urge to add more useless attempts at hopeful sentiments.

Jake shrugs, unbothered, nonchalant. “She’s holding up.” 

You wait for him to elaborate, but he just drums his fingers on top of the white tablecloth impatiently, turning his head to glance behind him at the swinging door to the kitchen. “Have you... spoken to your dad?” you probe, and while Jake doesn’t react harshly like you expect, his hand momentarily freezes. 

“No,” he finally says. “I don’t think I’m ready to talk to him.” 

“Right,” you pause. “Do you think you ever will?”  

Jake heaves out a sigh and turns back to face you, idly chewing at a hangnail. Your fingers twitch and you hold yourself back from reaching out to pull his hand away from his mouth. “There’s not much to say, really. They were married, and now they’re not.”

You nod slowly, taking another sip of your drink, briefly lamenting the fact that it’s now just melted ice with a dash of soda. “How are your sisters?” 

Again, he shrugs. “Fine. I’m driving them around a whole lot. Kinsey won’t come out of her room, but that’s no different than usual. They won’t talk to him either.” 

He’s silent, doesn’t seem to want to say much else, instead tries to play off his nervousness by taking another large gulp of his drink and shifting his eyes to watch the Cowboys game playing on the tiny TV behind the bar. But you can tell he’s gotten himself worked up by the way you can feel his foot tapping impatiently under the table, the way he presses his finger harder into his teeth, by virtue of knowing Jake so well. 

So you change the subject. “Are we doing this every year now, then? A friendship anniversary?” you ask. 

Jake visibly relaxes, almost looking grateful. The foot tapping stops, and he pulls his hand away from his mouth to sling an arm around the booth and send you a signature Jake Seresin smirk. “Of course - gotta celebrate the day you learned about football - ” 

“- I swear, I’ll break your nose again with one later - ” 

“With your aim? Please,” he scoffs, a goofy smile breaking the moment he makes eye contact with you. 

You roll your eyes. “Plan B is always my fists. Anyway, how do you think we’ll even keep up every year while I’m at school and you’re at the Academy?” 

“I’ll visit you at Columbia - and before you say it, shut up. You’re getting in, Miss Pulitzer. As for the Academy... Depends on whether I even apply.”

“Why wouldn’t you apply?” you ask, even though you’re sure you know the answer, ready to pour out words of affirmation, tell him that there’s no way they’d turn him down. 

“Not sure if I’d get in,” - bingo, but he follows up with something that stuns you - “And I think I might want to stick around here for a bit. Take care of the family for a bit.” 

You’re not sure what to say to that, exactly. Because you were prepared to jump into a supportive best friend mode: reassure him that he’s a shoo-in, remind him of his accomplishments, deliver your long-winded ramble of uplifting words that’ll make your mouth feel like you’re chewing cotton by the end of it. But that’s not what Jake needs right now. 

“I don’t think your Ma would want you to do that, Jake,” you say quietly. “She wouldn’t want you to abandon your dreams just to take care of her.” 

He stretches his arms back, rolls his neck out hard enough so that his joins sound like crackling rice krispies in the silence. “She’d never ask me to. But I don’t want her to have a hard time, make her shoulder the burden.” 

“Knowing her, she wouldn’t want to unload anything onto you, Jake,” you tell him firmly, sitting up straight in an attempt to look more certain, strong. “You’ve wanted this for such a long time. Don’t let your dad ruin this for you - I know a part of you wants to stick it to him or something. But fuck that, Jake. If you put your dreams on hold, you’ll regret it. You have to do this for yourself.” 

“Yeah... I guess,” he trails off, still sounding uncertain, but a little less subdued. His hand lifts up and he’s again gnawing at the raw skin on his fingers.

“You’ve really gotta stop biting your nails, Jake,” you tease, hoping it’ll relieve some of the tensions that somehow returned, and he rolls his eyes. “If you want to keep your mouth occupied -” 

“- You offering? I tell you, it’s not like I haven’t thought about it -” 

“Shut up,” you snipe, feeling the heat rush into your cheeks at the suggestion. You shake off your embarrassment. “How ‘bout chewing gum?” 

“Hate gum,” Jake pouts. “Makes my jaw hurt.” 

“You’re such a baby. Lollipops?” 

“Charles would hate me,” he replies, and you internally roll your eyes at him calling his dentist by his first name. His sincere dedication to exceptional dental health and maintaining his teeth was sure to win him the best smile Senior superlative. “If your next suggestion is smoking -”

“- It’s not!” you glare. “How about toothpicks?” 

“You want me to roll a sharp piece of wood in my mouth? Sounds delightful,” he drawls sarcastically, and you scoff, turning your eyes to look up at the ceiling. 

“Better than sticking your fingers in your mouth all the damn time. What are you, two?” 

“I’m a ten, thank you very much.” 

“You’re insufferable,” you groan out, fighting back the urge to smile. “You won’t stay a ten if you rip your fingers apart though, Jake. You should give it a try. They have flavored toothpicks, too.” 

He ponders this with narrowed eyes, pulls his hand away from his mouth to lay it flat on top of the table to examine his cuticles carefully. “Think they have cinnamon?” 

“Probably. Would keep your mouth fresh too.” 

“Oh, the ladies are gonna love that,” he laughs, smiling so big now that his eyes crinkle  and it feels like someone’s opened a window in this dim restaurant, pushed the sun higher in the sky and bathed your whole body in sunlight. You laugh along with him, rest your elbows on the table to prop your head up and just look at him, appreciate him as a boy who offered to help you within the first hour of knowing you, a man who’s willing to give up his aspirations to care for the people he loves. Your best friend who stopped giving you butterflies a long time ago and now brings you a feeling of comfort, of warmth. Of home. 

Suddenly, Jake reaches across the table, palm facing up. You eye it carefully, slowly sliding your hand into his. “You good?” 

“Thanks for putting up with me for two years,” he tells you seriously. And you shake your head with a smile, can sense the emotions well up in your eyes, feel your heart beating faster. 

“Of course,” you breathe out. “Thanks for always supporting me.” 

“Always,” he parrots back. “Anything for a future Pew-litzer Winner.” 

You huff out a wet laugh, and the two of you just sit there across from each other, smiling like idiots until finally, with your vision slightly blurred and your hand still squeezing his across the table, you glance around for your waitress who has yet to make an appearance. “You wanna just... go get some pizza?” 

“God, yes,” Jake agrees, immediately moving to stand up. “Think we can find some toothpicks on the way?” 

AGE TWENTY-THREE (she’s still 23, inside her fantasy, how it was supposed to be)

The October after you graduate from Columbia and Jake’s graduated from the Academy, you visit him in Pensacola in a bar that’s packed to the brim with patrons in Navy-issued khakis. You find yourself in a booth across from Jake, snacking on greasy bar eats and nursing some shitty beers. 

“Aren’t you gonna introduce me to your date, Hangman?” a dark-skinned, intimidatingly handsome man in uniform leans against your table and looks down at you with a grin that could rival a hyena’s. You glance over at Jake, who rolls his eyes. 

“Coyote,” Jake says admonishingly, flips a toothpick between his teeth, but goes on to introduce you. “This is my best friend from back home.”

You wave awkwardly, pondering where his callsign may have come from - unless that was his birth name, in which you’d love to have a quick interview with his parents. Coyote raises his eyebrows and slides into the booth next to Jake, subsequently pushing him closer to the wall and rests both elbows on the table. “So you’re Jake’s friend? With all the articles?” 

You whip your head to look at Jake, who’s bearing a sheepish grin with his cheeks getting slightly pinker. His hand raises up to rub the back of his neck. “It’s nothing -” 

“- You should’ve seen him during basic - had all these things pinned up on his wall, always reading your letters at breakfast with a puppy dog face. Honestly thought you were his sweetheart or something- Ow!” 

Coyote’s rubbing his side where Jake elbowed him harshly, cheeks still red and teeth furiously gnashing down on the toothpick. Underneath the table, you can feel Jake’s leg start bouncing, and you shift your foot forward to lightly brush his, tap the side of his tenderly. He halts his movements. 

“He’s just a great friend,” you clarify, beaming at Jake, who seems slightly less tense with his jaw unclenched. “Anyways, is Coyote your callsign?” your curiosity gets the better of you, and you figure it might be a good chance to get the spotlight off Jake. 

“Sure is. Name’s Javy,” he smirks at you, then jerks a hand over at Jake. “Has he told you his sign?” 

“Yeah, Hangman. Which is stupid, because he honestly sucks at the game -” 

“- I don’t,” Jake hotly defends, sits up in his seat and crooks an accusatory finger in your direction. “You’re the one that does weird ass long words. No one’s gonna guess - what was it? Gerrymandering?” 

Coyote attempts to stifle a laugh, but you let a giggle bubble right out of you. “I like to use it as a learning opportunity.” 

“Here’s a word for you: buzzkill.” Jake retorts, and you scoff, holding back a smile, about to snark back when you feel your phone vibrate from your purse. 

“One second,” you pull out your Blackberry, glancing over the email from your coworker at The Washington Times and tapping out a brief response. 

“Hey sweetheart,” you hear Jake say and your heart skips a beat, a smile forming at the familiar name as you press send on your message. Your surging warmth is immediately extinguished as you look up from your phone and see that Jake’s not speaking to you at all, not even looking your way. Instead, he’s shifted his entire body to face a gorgeous woman who’s stopped by your booth and is currently looking at him with a sweet smile.

“Still on for Friday night?” she asks, and you envy how cool she sounds saying it, like there’s no doubt in her mind that Jake will say yes, against your better wishes. 

“Of course, wouldn’t miss it,” he replies easily, the dimple on his cheek popping out, deflating you further.

She flashes a quick smile at you as well - no malice or threat in it whatsoever - and you wonder if it’s that obvious that you and Jake are friends, that you’re not on a date even though you’d both been seated in this booth for the better half of an hour. 

Maybe she thinks you’re just here with Javy, who’s been watching the whole interaction with a smirk, eyes laser focused on you trying your hardest to keep your expression neutral. “You’re going out with Imani? What happened to Priya?” Coyote asks after the girl walks away, his pointed look at you unwavering.  

Jake shrugs. “She knew I didn't want anything serious. So does Imani. It’s just drinks and dinner and you know... whatever comes next.” 

They both share a chuckle and your heart clenches painfully. You’re no prude - you’re all in support of people having casual sex, and you’re glad Jake is forthcoming with these girls.  He’s not breaking their hearts, and they seem content to just have one night with him and be done with it. 

There’s just the tiniest whisper of anxiety that wonders if there’s something wrong with you for rarely engaging in hookup culture, for not feeling comfortable enough to have meaningless flings. The one time you took a step out of your comfort zone and hooked up with a stranger, your walk of shame felt like a daze - inside, you were empty, despondent. A part of you envies Imani and the mysterious Priya for being able to cast aside their emotions so easily, fall into bed with a stranger, step out the next morning without feeling like they’re missing a part of themself.

The little green monster in you also flares up at the realization that they’ll know Jake in a more intimate way than you ever will - in a way that you’ve only dreamt about a handful of times. Give or take. You’re not sure when you started seeing him in a different light, as more than a friend, more like the person you’d want to get old with and celebrate milestones besides the anniversary of you becoming friends - but it happened slowly, suddenly, then all at once. And now, your feelings just sit with you, tethering you to the impossible dream of knowing Jake as so much more. 

All this to say, you can’t be angry with Jake or any of these women. It’s not a crime for him to want to sleep around. You just wish you had the courage to tell him it’s not entirely victimless. 

“There’s quite a few girls back home who’d be shattered to hear this,” you tease instead, ignoring the way your stomach is dropping low, the way your appetizer is slowly creeping up your esophagus. 

Jake rolls his eyes. “Always been a heartbreaker, darlin’, it’s an occupational hazard.” he tells you and you agree mentally, idly picking at the basket of cold fries on the table. “You’ll always be my number one girl, though.” 

Ah, and the dream lives on. 

AGE TWENTY-SIX (time went on for everybody else, she won't know it)

“Happy tenth anniversary to a spectacular, intelligent, absolutely phenomenal woman,” Jake toasts, grinning across from you at Malatesta Trattoria in West Village. Jake had insisted on treating you in celebration of your new job at The New York Times - did the research and made reservations all on his own, took time off and everything. 

“Happy friendship anniversary to a guy who still forgets to pack his toothbrush,” you snicker, and laugh even harder when his look of pride quickly turns into a mock glare. 

It’s been a full year since you physically saw him at your last anniversary dinner - Jake had been away on a longer assignment in Lemoore, and you’d been busy churning out inflammatory political op-eds for The Washington Times and applying to jobs in the Big Apple. The two of you called pretty regularly, but this was officially the longest the two of you had gone without seeing each other. 

You thought it’d feel awkward, like you’d have to fumble to find your footing with him the same way you have to figure out how to balance when you put on roller skates, but it’s easy. The moment you stepped outside of your building to meet him, he’d rushed to lift you in a giant bear hug, like no time apart had even passed. And the whole night, the two of you chat about anything and everything- he fills you in on his assignment and about something he’s gunning for called Top Gun, and you tell him about an upcoming project covering creative renewal in Beirut - you both nod along as best as you can while the other speaks. 

After your plates are empty and cleared out and you both have determined that you’re too full for dessert (although, the ice cream calling your name at your apartment might have you singing a different tune later), you both stand up to exit the restaurant. 

The wine you had with dinner has loosened up your movements - typically, you have to move through the city streets with big strides and purpose - like you’ve got somewhere to be and you’re already ten minutes late. But with Jake, there’s no timetable, no place you have to hurry to reach. Right now, the only thing on your agenda is to stand next to Jake in the middle of the sidewalk outside of this fancy restaurant and appreciate the moments you have with him. 

And figure out how the hell you’re getting home. 

“You wanna call a cab?” Jake asks you with an arm wrapped around your waist to steady your swaying form, and you balk at the thought of having to pay a hefty fee just to sit still in a car and try to keep your spinning head from making you throw up. God, your tolerance has become abysmal. 

“We can just take the F train back to my place. If you’re okay walking?” you reply fuzzily, looking up at him with a messy grin. Jake’s sweet expression catches you off guard - hazel green eyes locked on you, his sweet smile etching a dimple deeper into his cheek, like Michaelangelo himself carved it. Your breath hitches in your throat, and you become all too aware of the feeling of his hand squeezing your hip, the warmth of his forearm around your lower back, the way his chest is just barely brushing your shoulder and yet still manages to heat you up from head to toe. 

And you know he’s only trying to keep you upright, probably just trying to gauge your level of drunkenness and assess whether you’re good to make the thirty minute walk plus subway ride to your home. But he doesn’t know that it’s not the three glasses of wine you had at dinner that’s intoxicated you this much, that’s made your mind feel lighter than air and your heart ten times fuller. It’s all Jake - Jake - who’s looking at you like you’re the only thing on his mind, the only person in the world, the only one who matters.

“Are you fine with that?” he asks, and the softness written in his features reminds you of all the times you’ve looked at Jake and found a new favorite thing to fall in love with. 

The very first time you looked at him - really looked at him - you fixated on the way his dimple poked out while you regaled him with a story about how you exacted revenge on your friend’s two-timing ex by pouring your entire yogurt cup on top of his head. The way he threw his head back with his eyes squinted shut and hands clapping together made you feel more enamored with him than ever, had you scraping the back of your mind for more stupid jokes to make him laugh that hard. 

Another time, you remember looking right at his nose and thinking about how much you wanted to plant a sweet kiss on the tip, found yourself wondering how it would feel pressed against your neck as you both drifted off for the night, and how the sound of his soft breathing beside you would be the most comforting, reassuring sound to fall asleep to. 

This time, you’re completely mesmerized by the way the streetlights hit the flecks of green in his eyes, the way his pupils look slightly dilated, the way his gaze darts down for a split second to your lips and right back up to meet your heated look. If you weren’t drunk you’d fall right into the moment, lean right in and press your mouth to his like you’ve always wanted to, let his perfectly brilliant teeth clash with yours. Maybe see for yourself if you can taste cinnamon on his tongue. 

But you are incredibly drunk right now, and that’s no way to kiss him for the first time. So you pull your head back ever so slightly. “I think I just need to walk off the alcohol for a bit,” you shoot him a sloppy grin, still managing to lose yourself in those fucking beautiful eyes. 

Jake’s talking, murmuring something low in your ear. “You sure? Those shoes look like they hurt.” 

You look down at your heels - and yeah, they’re fucking painful. These past few minutes of Jake’s inebriating presence has given you the briefest reprieve from the sharp pains shooting up your calves. You’re desperate to take them off - but you can’t recall when your last tetanus shot was. And even if you were up-to-date, no one could convince you that it’s safe to walk barefoot in the streets of New York. “No, I’ll make it. Need to walk off the wine.” 

“You wanna wear my shoes?” Jake offers and you scoff. 

“You wanna walk barefoot? What, do you think they sanitize and mop the sidewalks every night?” 

“I’m wearing socks!” he defends and you roll your eyes. 

“Still gross. Besides, you know what they say about guys with big feet?” 

Jake’s eyebrows furrow, looks momentarily stunned as his eyes dart to his shoes, then return to your face. “Big dick?” 

“Big shoes,” you deadpan. “And if I take one step in your big clown shoes, I’m faceplanting right on the sidewalk. You want that to happen? ” 

“Clown shoes?” he repeats to himself quietly with an amused smile, then shakes his head, finally relenting. “Fine. But if you get tired, I’m not carrying you.” 

“I’ll make it,” you insist. 

--

“Jake?” you say thirty minutes later after traversing up the subway stairs, stopping for a moment to bend down and massage your ankles. Jake stops, shifts the paper bag with leftovers from one hand to the other and places his free hand on your back. He looks down at you with concern. 

“Yeah?” 

You pause for a moment, wondering if he’d turn you down, deliberating if you even feel comfortable asking him for a piggyback ride for the five minute walk back to your apartment. But the aching toe cramp that you’re trying and failing to stretch out drowns out your insecurities, silences your fear that he wouldn’t be able to manage. You remind yourself that he’s been bragging about his new squat record for weeks now, anyway. “Can you carry me on your back? Please?” 

A sigh. Then, “Sure darlin’. Hop on.” 

You wordlessly reach to take the leftovers from him and he turns away from you, couches down low enough to let you clamber onto him. With an arm secured under each leg, he extends to his full height and lifts you up onto his back. 

“Alright?” he rumbles, and you nod wordlessly, wrap your arms around his neck and hook your chin over his shoulder. Your eyes flutter shut, and you breathe in his familiar cologne, some Tom Ford scent you’d gifted him a few Christmases ago. It grounds you, keeps your head from spinning even more as you relish the feeling of your ankles not supporting your whole body weight. 

You feel the alcohol hit for a second wave, completely demolishing your self-control, unleashing your thoughts to race limitlessly, to see no bounds. At this point, your head is close to mush, your limbs feel like they weigh twice as much, and you think you’ll never let yourself drink rosé again. But you’re certain of one thing. “I think you might be the love of my life,” you murmur sleepily. 

Silence. Jake doesn’t stop walking, doesn’t acknowledge it, doesn’t even say it back. So maybe you were too quiet, or perhaps you completely imagined saying it at all. 

Because it’s unlike Jake to let you have the last word. 

AGE TWENTY-EIGHT (I'm sure that you’ve got a wife out there, kids and Christmas, but I'm unaware)

“Have you ever thought about this?” Jake asks you, leaning back against his chair as he  watches the happy couple swaying in the middle of the dance floor to an Ed Sheeran song - not your personal choice, but the rest of the onlookers seem to be incredibly moved by it. This year, your friendship anniversary coincides with your old roommate’s wedding, and after much pleading (and the promise of an open bar), Jake agreed to fly out to be your plus-one. 

It surprised you how much you had to beg for him to come. At first, he had been hesitant, imploring you to attend the wedding instead of meeting him for your usual dinner. You didn’t hesitate to dismiss  that idea - it’s been twelve years of celebrating, and there’s no way you’re stopping now. Not when it already feels like Jake’s been pulling back for the past year or so: calling less often, answering texts hours after you sent them, sometimes not even replying to your articles with anything aside from a little thumbs-up emoji. 

At this point, it feels like this anniversary is all that’s tethering him to you. 

“Have I ever thought about my wedding?” you ponder. “Yeah, sometimes. Don’t think I’d ever spring for something as big as this, but -” 

“- No, no,” he interrupts, “you wouldn’t want to make a big fuss of it all, not a crazy big party and definitely not a five hundred person guest list. ‘Course I know that about you.” Jake smiles and shifts forward, leaning in close; you can just barely smell the sandalwood and vanilla musk of his cologne. He seems relaxed, finally looks content to be here - though you’re sure that’s all thanks to the top-shelf whiskey he’s imbibing. “I meant marriage, commitment, settling down. You think you’d ever want to do that?” 

You purse your lips, gaze still locked on the newly wedded couple, appreciating the matching expressions of adoration written on their faces as they twirl around their guests. “Of course. Just haven’t found the right person who’s ready to do that with me.” 

He scoffs. “What, like you’re struggling to find someone? You know, from the minute I walked into this banquet hall with you, I’ve counted maybe five death glares from interested parties.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure you did,” you snort, tilting your glass up vertically to catch the last few drops of champagne.

“Sweetheart, I’d never lie to you. In fact, I think the redhead over by the bar is still sending daggers my way. And she’s hot, so I’m kind of turned on by it,” Jake adds seriously, and you roll your eyes. “Come on! I thought you were going to give Tinder a shot earlier this year?” 

You snort again, this time feeling a little more jaded. “I did give it a shot. And all I found was guys holding up fish and finance bros asking for my snap. I don’t even have a Snapchat, Jake. What happened to just getting people’s numbers and having a normal conversation?” 

“It’s a new era, all this online dating stuff,” he replies, crossing one ankle over his knee and interlacing his hands over his abdomen. “But I see your point, maybe Tinder isn’t the best place to find your forever partner.”

“Don’t know why I even bothered,” you remark and look over at him, momentarily allowing yourself to appreciate the way his tux fits over him. “Maybe if we’re both still single by the time we’re forty, we get hitched,” you muse, only half joking. 

He chokes on his whiskey, coughing loudly with the liquor singing his throat. “Yeah, right!” Jake finally manages out with a laugh and teary eyes, and it feels like someone’s poured a bucket of ice water on you, wakes you up from the lighthearted banter you lost yourself in. 

“Okay,” you narrow your eyes, heart dropping at the rejection. “Don’t sound too eager. I’m not down on one knee here or anything.” 

“Sorry,” he apologizes but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He swirls around the remaining amber sea in his drink, slightly mesmerized by the mini whirlpool. “You know me though. Never settling down.” 

You know you should take the sign to drop the conversation, but his quick refusal and blasé tone rubs you the wrong way. “Why? Because of your parents?” you hedge, leaning in to get a better look at his face, which has slightly hardened in the dim glow of the bulb lights strung across the venue. The extra bubbly you’ve consumed pushes you to question him, to finally figure out why he’s so resistant to letting himself be loved. “I know you’re scared you’ll end up making the same mistakes as your dad, but you know you’re not like him. Not in any way.”

He grits out your name warningly, arching a brow and gripping his glass tight. You run the risk of it shattering if you keep pushing. But that’s the least of your worries; right now, you’re blind with hurt. How can he just dismiss you like it’s nothing? How can he close himself off so easily? 

“Typical Jake Seresin, you know?” you cut him off hotly, trying with all your might to keep your voice even through the haze of champagne. “Always so ready to let your daddy issues ruin your chances at happiness.” 

He glares at you, knocks back the rest of his drink without even grimacing, doesn’t meet your gaze. Crunches the ice bitterly. “Get off your high horse, sweetheart,” he finally says roughly. “Stop pretending like you know me.” 

You scoff, still not backing down. “You think after over ten years of friendship, I don’t know you at all?” 

Another shrug. His leg starts bouncing incessantly. “People change, darlin’. You certainly have.” 

You draw back, feeling like he just slapped you in the face. “What d’you mean by that?” you ask a little quieter, with a slight waver, still audible over Ed Sheeran’s ballad. Where’s he going with this? 

He groans again, turns to look at you, but you don’t quite recognize the expression on his face. It’s menacing, hardened, darker than the amber liquid in his cup. “We do our separate things, sweetheart. We call a couple times a year and meet up on the same weekend to do the same dinner and yeah, that’s nice. It’s great. But that doesn’t mean you know me as well as you think you do. Quit grilling me - I’m not just a sad story for you to write about.”

His words punch you in the gut, sock you in the ear, send blood coursing angrily through your veins. Part of you wants to tell him off, unleash your fury, make a scene in the middle of this reception hall. Another part of you wants to storm off and leave him behind, but you’re not sure if you want to face the reality that he might not follow, might not chase after you with apologies and promises to soothe the burn from his words. 

Slightly misty-eyed, you fight to reel your emotions back in, not wanting to draw attention to the two of you or make Jake feel like you’re guilting him. It feels an awful lot like using thimbles to catch roof leaks. Your strength comes back to you in slow, even waves: your heart returns to its normal pattern, your chest no longer heaves for air. 

“You can’t say things like that, Jake,” you tell him, your voice surprisingly steady, rock solid. “You’re my best friend, and you can’t speak to me that way.”

His jaw ticks, his expression remains unchanged. “Sure, right. Sorry.” 

The easy dismissal brings your anger back in a rush, yet gives you time to think about your next words carefully. “You’re such an ass, Jake,” you bite out, and maintain decorum, calmly push your chair back to stand up, send him a glare with all the furiosity you can muster before making a bee-line for the exit without looking back to see if he’s following suit. 

You dodge fellow wedding attendees, snatching champagne from a waiter with a platter before knocking it back and setting the empty flute back down and continuing to make your way to the exit. Over Ed Sheeran’s second ballad, you can hear Jake quietly calling out your name, his footsteps right behind you. 

As you burst through the doors, into the crisp outside air, you teeter for a few steps in your heels before leaning against a pillar, trying to contain your emotions, lest you say something silly or embarrassing or humiliating. 

“Would you just wait? Would you let me talk?” Jake’s hot on your heels as he steps over the threshold. 

“You’ve said plenty,” you throw back. 

“Come on, darlin’, I didn’t mean it like that,” Jake says behind you, closer now. 

“I think you made it very clear,” you grind out, turning on your heel and looking him straight in the eye. “You can’t smooth-talk your way out of this, Seresin. That might work on everyone else, but it’s not doing jack shit on me!” 

He throws his hands up in the air, shakes his head. You eye how his fingers are twitching, how he’s chewing the inside of his cheek. “What do you want me to say? I’m just saying we’re not the same people we used to be -”

“- That’s fine!” you gesticulate dramatically, too overwhelmed with frustration to let your hands remain still. “But you don’t have to be an ass about it! You don’t have to minimize our friendship like this! God, Jake, what has it been? Twelve years? Twelve years of loving you, supporting you, celebrating anniversaries -” You cut yourself off, realizing what just bubbled forth from of your mouth. 

Jake’s expression stays ablaze, but his spine stiffens, hands twitch twice before he clenches them, digging his nails into his palms harshly. You meet his heavy gaze, mouth slightly agape, mind running a million miles a second until it starts to decelerate, slows down gradually, then stops on one thought, one single thought alone. 

“I love you, Jake,” you say. Like you’re stating a fact, common knowledge for everyone and their mother. The sky is blue, the world isn’t flat, and you’re in love with Jake Seresin. 

He inhales, shaking his head, and looking down at the ground. 

You falter, furrow your eyebrows, wonder if maybe he didn’t hear you. “I love you, Jake,” you repeat, this time a little louder, taking a step forward, closer to him. “I’m in love with you.” 

Jake looks up, his face contorted into a look of pain, eyes void of its usual light. Inhales sharply. “I know.” 

You falter. “You know?“ the words feel like marbles rolling out; you can almost hear the tiny plinks as they hit the ground. 

“Yeah.” 

”…How long?” 

He swallows. “Since New York.” 

You’re transported back in that moment, a montage of scenes from your tenth anniversary flashing through your mind like you’re in a cinema. You remember the night’s end in a haze: his warm body next to yours as you stumbled to the subway, you gripping onto his arm tightly with every lurch of the train, Jake carrying you on your back and you saying -

“Oh.” You shrink back, and the realization he’s held onto this for two years hits you like a truck. Jake is silent, hands now shoved into his pockets as he awaits your next few words. “And... you have nothing else to say to that?” 

Jake lets out a pained groan. “Listen, darlin’, don’t get me wrong. I... care about you so damn much, but I can’t feel for you the way you want me to. We wouldn’t work.”

His words make you freeze and your anxiety screams out ‘I told you so!’ in a manner that echoes thunderously throughout your brain. This unrequited love is something you’ve always expected, always prepared yourself for, yet you never gave it much further thought to safeguard your heart. 

You’re rapidly accelerating through the stages of grief - next, your anger comes back to you. First, in small rivulets that trickle down your spine - then as a rush of agony that feels an awful lot like the crash at the bottom of a waterfall. Your eyes burn with the tears you refuse to let fall, your palms already stinging from how hard you’ve dug your manicure into them - but is it fair for you to be mad at him? For not loving you the way you desperately want him to? 

For the longest time, a small, tiny part of you hoped Jake would come around, decide to knock on your door, knock you back with a signature bear hug. That he’ll swear to be there always, love you the way you love him. 

After tonight, you reflect, it seems like that might never happen. And quickly, you surmise that you’d rather have one part of him than nothing at all. So as you finally reach the stage of acceptance, you vow to treasure every moment of friendship with Jake Seresin. 

“I understand,” you tell him, feeling like you’re miles away. “It’s okay.” 

“You sure?” His eyes still rake over you with concern. 

“Positive.” You do your best to plaster on the most reassuring smile you can. 

“Sweetheart -” 

“- Can we just talk about this later?” you interrupt, feeling defeated and embarrassed all rolled into one. There most certainly is more to the conversation - but all you want to do is prolong it for longer, preserve the fantasy in your mind that you can Jake are alright, that the past few minutes never happened. 

He closes his mouth, nods, pushes his hands deeper into his pockets. 

From inside, the music suddenly changes - still a slow ballad, but this time it’s Al Green, Let’s Stay Together. “I believe you stipulated that I had to dance to at least one song,” Jake holds out a hand, looking at you almost hopefully. As if the last few minutes hadn’t completely shattered your heart and sent the pieces flying away with the wind. 

“Ah,” you say, feeling a wave of exhaustion overcome you. “You go on ahead. Think I just need some more air.” 

Internally, your heart is deflating, sending slight tremors throughout your body. But you can’t have Jake know that, can’t have him feel even worse about this, won’t have him feeling an ounce of guilt for something so out of his control. 

Despite your best efforts to hold it all in, a small tear escapes and slides down your cheek as soon as Jake’s back turns, and you feel like you might have kicked a pebble that’s about to precipitate an avalanche.

--- 

Jake calls you up a few days after, initially sounding like he just wants to check in until his tone takes on a more somber note, and your heart drops to your stomach. “Listen, I know we had a little bit of a heated... discussion at the wedding. And I just need you to know I really, really, appreciate you. And I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want, but I just want to make sure we can still stay friends.” 

“Yeah, of course -” you stop yourself from readily agreeing, pause to reevaluate how you really want to take this moving forward. 

Jake is the love of your life. That much is certain. And you’re not sure how willing you are to push aside your feelings, pretend your confession never even happened, just to go on with the guise that you guys are simply friends. Just friends. Holding off on love in hopes that he’ll come around. 

If you’re being completely truthful, a part of you does feel empty without a person by your side, without a companion to walk through life with, without a partner to share all the moments of joy and despair and everything in between with. You’ve tried dating throughout the years - agreed to so many blind dates, worked up the courage to ask guys at the bar out. And somehow, you always run into the same problem. 

They’re not Jake. 

And it’s not like they’re not as funny as him, or as charismatic or charming or sweet as him. It’s not the fact that they gave you spearmint kisses when you’ve always craved cinnamon. It’s the harsh truth that no matter what, they always feel threatened by your passion for your job and your drive to succeed. Always find problems with you jetting across the world for different projects, and patronize you for saying you wanted to make a difference with your stories. 

One Tinder date even mocked you for aspiring to win a Pulitzer - you’d promptly excused yourself to the bathroom and never came back, instead ending your night with a long phone call from Jake, who was six hours ahead at the time but more than happy to console you. 

Jake’s always encouraged you, from the very first day at the pizza parlor to now. And the more guys you took a chance on dating, the less hopeful you felt about finding a future with someone as kind, as wonderful, as unwaveringly supportive as Jake. 

Maybe it’s time to let go of the pipe dream. 

“Actually, no. I don’t think I can move forward as just friends,” you rush out, and admittedly, it feels like you’re ripping off a bandaid but the sting feels more like an ache. “And don’t get me wrong - your friendship means the world to me. Even if you think we’re different people now. But it feels like nothing’s changed for me, Jake. I think for years, I’ve been holding onto the hope that you’ll come around and feel the same way. But after this past weekend... I think I need some space. Just so I can get over you, if you’re not changing your mind anytime soon.”  

Jake’s silent on the other end of the line - the only indication that he hasn’t dropped off is the sounds of cars rushing on the other side. A part of you hopes he’ll take the bait you cast with your final sentence, that at the very least, he’ll consider reconsidering. You don’t think you’ll get that lucky. 

“If that’s what you want.” 

“It’s not,” you quickly reassure him while blinking away tears, feeling numb. “And I don’t want to be cliche and tell you it’s what I need, Jake - because believe me, sometimes it feels like I need you like I need a Pilot G2 pen or the sun. But I can’t live like this. I can’t settle for just having part of you because that’ll be agonizing for me.”

Silence on the other end. “I hope you understand,” you quietly add. 

“I do, sweetheart. I’m sorry,” his voice is void of emotion. You try not to think too hard about it, try to transport yourself back to a better moment when he was right there in front of you with every feeling written on his tanned, chiseled face. 

Deep inhale. “Bye, Jake.”

AGE TWENTY-NINE (I cause no harm, mind my business, if our love died young, I can’t bear witness)

These gentrified tapas places are a menace to society. You shift uncomfortably on the cold, sad metal excuse for a barstool. This restaurant is noisy - glasses clinking together, patrongs cheers-ing to various occasions, champagne bottles popping open. Yet, the sound of the entrance dinging open is the only thing that makes you perk up, has you involuntarily glancing up hopefully in an attempt to manifest a familiar handsome pilot walking across the threshold to join you on your anniversary. But to your disappointment, it’s only a bunch of drunk bankers stumbling out. 

In the past year, you’ve found a number of ways to distract yourself from the pain of not having your best friend. As per Dr. Richard’s advice from your first therapy session, you tried your hardest to find comfort in solitude: catching films in the theater alone, wandering through new art exhibitions by your lonesome; you even attended a wine tasting in Brooklyn and ended up passing the time with a group of ladies who encompassed very similar energy to the Sex and the City Quartet (and you ended up getting some solid reassuring advice after you lamented your complicated friendship - Samantha’s carbon copy was all too ready to shit on Jake by the end of your tale).  

All in all, you’re content to be scoping out this restaurant solo, trying their featured cocktails and appetizers and people watching. You’re trying your best to convince yourself that you’re okay being where you are right now. The only thought that puts a damper on your night, sets your pride back a little is the realization that this might be the first October thirteenth you’ve spent alone in thirteen years. It shakes to your core, makes you flag down a bartender for a whiskey neat, but you calm down, take a deep breath, and let it out. 

Jake’s a different man, not the boy who sat in front of you in your beloved pizza shop with a crinkly-eyed smile, telling you “you’re just a cool person.” 

In the same way, you’re most certainly a different girl than the one who sat in front of him with a ten-color shuttle pen and bright eyes, one who was just grateful he’d seen a companion in you to begin with. 

You’re a strong, self-assured, career-driven woman now. You’ve been featured on a variety of articles ranging from the devastating 2016 US Presidential Election, to a Buzzfeed Guest Feature on what your favorite ink color said about you, to discussing culture and conflict in the Middle East. While Jake’s support from the very beginning was part of what motivated you, what spurred you on, you are the one who did all the hard work. You are powerful, driven, intelligent, sophisticated. 

You’re also drunk, and dialing a number you know by heart. 

“The number you have dialed is not available. Please leave a message or...”

After the beep, you steel yourself. “Hey, Jake,” you clear your throat, gripping your phone tightly in your palm and taking a deep breath. “I, uh... Just wanted to wish you a happy anniversary. Think it’s the first one I’ve spent without you in a while.” 

You pause, look around at the tapas bar as you try to gather your thoughts, wistfully eye the empty barstool next to you. 

“I know I said I needed some time before. And I’m glad you honored that - truly, from the bottom of my heart. Even though a part of me wanted you to change your mind and chose me over not having me. Does that make any sense?” 

Your eyes catch on the bartender who’s cleaning glasses with a towel a few feet away from you, catch him shaking his head slightly. 

“Do you mind?”you snap, and he at least has the decency to look a little embarrassed at being caught eavesdropping. Quickly, he flashes you an apologetic smile before comically pretending to hear a patron calling out their order and dashing across the bar. 

You snort, shaking your head. “Sorry. Some asshole was just... Never mind. You would’ve hated this place, Jake. I mean, aside from nosy people, it’s got overpriced drinks with Edison lights hanging from the ceiling. And there’s no jukebox - they’re just playing top 40s hits over and over again. Like, this is the third time I’m hearing Shape of You and I got here less than an hour ago.” 

Again, you pause, feeling embarrassed at your incessant rambling. Debate whether to blab about what’s been plaguing your mind since you woke up this morning. “Sometimes I wish I never said anything and that we could’ve just stayed friends. I just don’t think that would’ve been fair to me - because I meant what I said, Jake. I’m in love with you. Even if we’re different people - I would’ve loved getting to know every version of you.” 

It feels like a breakthrough, saying the words out loud, realizing that things truly are going to be more different than they used to be. And for the first time, you don’t feel like you’re perpetually mourning a friendship, you don’t feel waves of anxiety that try to convince you that you conflated your friendship to mean more. You can breathe easily.

“I think I’ve realized that the person I am today is all a conglomeration, a constellation of every interaction I’ve had with other people. And for the most part, I am who I am because of our friendship, because of your presence in my life. So a part of me is finding it hard to let go of that and move on without you being so ingrained in me. But I’m trying. I’m going to therapy, at least,” you smile optimistically, wiping away the first tear you’ve let yourself shed today. 

“So rest assured, I’ll be okay without you, Seresin. In case you were worried. But no matter what, this day will always remain special to me. You’ll always be special to me.” 

AGE THIRTY (and it’s been so long, but if you ever think you got it wrong, I’m right where you left me)

You don’t realize it’s the day of your anniversary until you catch a glimpse of the date on your phone, realize why you felt like you were missing something the entire day. At first, it sends a wave of anxiety over you, makes your stomach swoop like you missed the last step on the staircase. 

But as best as you can, you remind yourself that taking on this special day alone is part of your healing process, that sometimes we create our own heartbreak through expectation, and that it’s just a matter of managing your hopes, assuaging your guilt, honoring your friendship by yourself for the second year in a row. 

It’s taken time, but you’ve made your peace with the fact that Jake won’t be playing as active a role in your future as you’d hoped. Maybe you two can just be the type of friends who send each other Christmas cards and call on your birthdays. Years later, maybe you’ll finally settle down and find someone who will support you just as well as Jake did, who will treat you kindly and see you as more than a friend to hold hands with from time to time and look at your lips sometimes and give you piggyback rides when you’re too drunk. If you have kids, maybe you’ll have Jake over to meet your family, oblige him to regale them with tales of your friendship, send gift cards for their birthdays and talk about his time in the Navy - if they’re interested in hearing about Uncle Jake’s career path. 

That’s all. You settle for keeping him in your footnotes, for cherishing the memory of who he used to be. 

Even if you’ll always be in love with Jake, that doesn’t mean you have to wither away waiting for him. 

-- 

In the middle of catching up on some editing and shooting out some emails from the comfort of your plush couch, your phone rings with a familiar name proudly displayed at the top. Immediately, you narrow your eyes, wondering if he’s remembered or if it’s some weird fluke that he’s calling you on today of all days.

“Hello?” you answer cautiously. 

“Hey, darlin’,” you hear Jake’s easy tone flow through the speakers, and despite all the growth you’ve endured, despite all the lessons you’ve etched into your heart, your brain turns to mush. 

“Hi Jake,” you force out, feeling as nervous as you did that day you interviewed him at the pizza place. At times like this, you wish you had your old landline from back in the day so you could coil the cord around your fingers idly, distract your nerves momentarily from the fact that this is the first time you’ve heard his voice in two years. “How’ve you been?” 

“I’m alright,” His voice is stilted, slightly muffled. Sounds just as easy as you remembered it, “Just... Remembered what today was.” 

“It’s Saturday.” The quip rolls off your tongue before you can think any better of it - and you cringe inwardly at how rude you must have sounded. “I’m sorry, that was...” 

But Jake’s chuckling on the other end, a delightfully warm sound, one that pulls a surge of pride from deep within your chest. “Yeah. You're not wrong.” 

And just as quickly, it fades into the awkward silence - the kind you never used to have with Jake. Mentally, you flow through all the happenings in this past year, think about where his Ma told you he’d been last. 

“How’s San Diego?” - “Can you buzz me up?” you both speak at the same time, and his answer makes you freeze, makes time suspend for a few seconds as if you’re floating outside of your own body. 

“I’m outside your building, I think. Unless your Ma sent me the wrong address, which admittedly, I’d deserve but - " 

“- You’re in New York?” you ask, still in shock, finally feeling in control of your muscles and limbs and words. Hurriedly, you scramble off your couch and swipe up your empty tea mug, then rush to your kitchen to deposit it unceremoniously into your sink. 

You hear the sound of a car horn beeping on the street echoing both in real time and on the line, further sending your heart into a frenzy. “Yeah - you do live off 65th, right? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to just pop in like this - ”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you breathe out, making your way to your front door with your phone still sandwiched between your ear and your hand. “I just... Wasn’t expecting company.” 

He snorts on the other end. “S’not like the Queen of England is coming. It’s just me.” 

“Somehow, I think that’s worse,” you muse, leaning against your hallway wall and hovering your finger over the button to let him in. If hearing his voice has put you this much on edge, you can’t imagine what it’ll do to you if you see him in person. 

“Maybe so,” Jake agrees, and you can practically hear the forlorn smile in his voice. “Mind letting me up, though? Just wanted to talk. In person.” 

The reality of the situation crashes down on you - that Jake’s practically been AWOL for the past few years, that your friendship has felt one-sided and exhausting to try and keep up with, that you spent your last anniversary alone and sobbing into your cellphone So a part of you wants to turn him down, hustle him out of your safe space - but your heart pounds rapidly with its demands for answers, your brain implores you to hear him out. 

Without a second thought, you push the button and hear the resounding buzz on Jake’s side, followed by a “See you soon, sweetheart.” The line clicks. 

Mind going a million miles a second, you turn to glance at your reflection in the hall mirror that you’ve procrastinated hanging up for months now. You level a determined look at yourself, brush some crumbs off your sweatshirt and smooth some flyaways before pushing your shoulders back, standing up tall and proud in an attempt to exude confidence. 

Three heavy knocks sounding out at the door immediately makes your look turn panicked, sending you stumbling over your feet as you reach to grab the doorknob and pull it open to reveal Jake Seresin standing in your narrow apartment hallway. 

Not even five seconds have passed and you’re already annoyed with him. He’s still mind numbingly handsome: tall as ever, blonde hair still infuriatingly shiny and soft, green eyes catching the dim evening light, glimmering back at you like gemstones. It makes your stomach swoop, brings the butterflies fluttering back into your chest from where you’d banished them.

Asshole. 

“Hey,” he greets, quirks up a corner of his mouth into a half smile that would normally have you swooning if you weren’t already frozen. 

“Hi, Jake,” you manage out, eyes raking over his figure just to convince your mind that he’s really there, actually standing just a few feet in front of you. Shaking away the doubts, you step to the side, gesture for him to enter your apartment. 

It’s not the sound of his footsteps that convince you, nor is it the brief brush of his arm as he sidles into  your narrow apartment hallway or the unreal sight of how he fills up the space and how his shoulders stretch from wall to wall. It’s the familiar heavy scent that hits you - tobacco and vanilla - which makes your cheeks flush, your heart skips a beat. 

He’s really here. 

Gathering your wits, you follow him into your cramped living room, grateful that you’d done some vacuuming and tidying up that morning in an effort to banish all the anxieties and ruminations that come with this special day. “Feel free to sit anywhere,” you find your voice, snatch up an oversized throw to make some room on the couch. 

He nods, turns around to assess your space thoughtfully before settling himself into the cushions.“I got your voicemail,” he tells you. “From last year.” 

Oh. It suddenly feels bitter, leaves a sour taste in your mouth. “You didn’t call back?” you hedge, immediately going on the defense. Instead of sitting down next to him, you elect to slide into the armchair furthest away from him, an attempt to shield yourself from him. An attempt to avoid making the same mistake twice. 

“I was going away on assignment the next morning,” Jake explains quietly, patiently. He meets your disbelieving look with somber eyes. It only slightly alleviates the pressure building in your chest. “And... honestly, I didn’t want to worry you. It was one of those missions. The kind I wasn’t sure I would come back from - like, where they’re telling us to call home and lay down all the cards.” 

You pause for a moment, absorb his words and feel a twinge of hurt upon the realization that you weren’t kept in the loop, that you never even knew you stood a chance at losing him. Before the emotions can rattle you too much and send you spiraling with anxious thoughts and what ifs, he explains further.. 

“I thought I would spare you the details, spare you from having to prepare to lose me. I was okay with that decision up until the moment one of my engines failed and my jet was going down - and the one thing that flashed through my mind was that I wouldn’t get to talk to you again, or see you, or how when you win your Pulitzer you wouldn’t be able to call me to tell me the news or how I wouldn’t be able to hang up the print of your winning piece next to your union one,” his voice is shaking slightly, and you know if you even attempted to reply your words would quiver just as much. In this moment, you’re trembling with your hands folded over your eyes to hide the tears brimming. 

It’s a mix of sadness and anger and disappointment and you try your best to hold off on the tornado, but it rips your soul to shreds the more you realize the gravity of the situation. “You’re fucking kidding me,” you grit out, pressing your lips together to barricade the sobs. Your hands are tightly wrapped around a throw pillow, squeezing and kneading out your frustration on it. You can barely stand to look at him.  “Took you a near death experience to call me? You think I haven’t already put myself through the fucking wringer after feeling so guilty for cutting you off just because you were too scared to love me? And you almost died?” 

“I’m sorry,” Jake repeats, at least sounding sincerely apologetic. 

“I appreciate that, Jake,” you reply bitterly, then defeatedly toss the pillow to the side. “When did you even get back?” 

His jaw tenses slightly and he sighs, and you immediately feel triumphant for successfully frustrating him, as petty as it sounds. “Few months back. And I’m sorry for not calling you. I wanted to as soon as I got back, but I wanted to say all this face to face. And it took some time for me to figure out my shit, but I’m here now, if you’ll hear me out?” 

All you can do is nod, purse your lips and let him say his piece - there’s no pressure to forgive him or fall into his arms. 

“I think you were right,” Jake continues seriously. You dig your nails into your palms anxiously. Under any other circumstance, you would have loved hearing those words from anyone else. Not now. Not Jake. “You were right to call me out when you said I was letting the fear of becoming my dad hold me back from chasing what I want.” 

As your anger slightly dissipates, you think back to that moment - about how those were just a few of the words you wish you could snatch up out of your past and make them disappear. Your breath hitches. “I was a bit harsh - "

“- But you were right,” he interrupts. “And I think that’s another reason why I shut down, because you know me so well. After all these years, I think you know me better than I know myself.” 

You nod, not sure what exactly to say to that. It’s not like you can explain to him that you were so incredibly taken by him, that you held onto his every word and agonized over interaction in hopes of really getting to know your best friend. 

Jake goes on: “And you have to know that my dad broke Ma’s heart like it was nothing. Married for twenty years, dated for five years, friends for another ten years. Even after you add all that up, it’s still not enough to keep them together. He still went for the first temp who waltzed into his office, still fucked with both of them for months on end. If my parents couldn’t keep it together, how could anyone else?” 

You’re stunned, frozen in shock before you manage to gather your strength, pick up your thoughts and hurl them right back at him. Screw this defeatist attitude he’s picked up. “You have to understand that’s the nature of some relationships, Jake. Sometimes they’re not meant to last forever, sometimes people change - "

You halt, feel a wave of déjà vu. The words on the tip of your tongue sound eerily familiar to something that’s replayed in your mind for the past two years, and a couple puzzle pieces start to fit together. “Is this why you were spouting all of this bullshit at the wedding? About us changing?”

Suddenly, he launches up from the couch, walks two steps across the room and pivots on his heel to walk the two steps back in an attempt to furiously pace. He groans out exasperatedly, rakes a hand through his stupid perfect blond hair. “I mean... Yeah. It made sense at the time,” he admits. Briefly, you wonder when his nervous tics changed in the past few years, when did he switch from bouncing his legs under tables to wearing a path into carpets? 

People change indeed. In more ways than one. 

“You’re a fucking idiot,” you tell him matter-of-factly, and there’s no sugar-coating your words anymore. He makes a sound, as if he’s about to feign offense, but you power through. “People change all the fucking time, Jake. How the hell are we supposed to grow and become better versions of ourselves if we stay stagnant? Where’s the fucking story in that?” 

You huff out a laugh, don’t even wait for him to reply before continuing on a rant. He’s stopped pacing now, is looking at you, but you’ve sprung up to your full height to look at him straight on, deliver your words as firmly as you can. 

“People change, Jake, especially when they’re in relationships - it’s a matter of adapting, supporting them and loving your partner through it. And like, let’s be clear: I’ve changed a lot, too. Physically and emotionally - but I’m okay with it because I realize it’s made me become someone my sixteen year old self would be stoked to meet. And not just because I live in the city or because I have, like, two Montblanc pens - but because I’m working on these stories and they fly me out wherever to interview people, and I know I haven’t sent my stuff to you in a while, didn’t think you’d still want to read it - ” 

“- I’ve kept up,” Jake interrupts. You stop in your tracks, tilt your head to the side as you process this. “I wanted to read them.” 

“You have?” you ask dubiously, doubtfully. Hopefully. 

“‘Course,” he affirms, sends you a reassuring smile and stands up straighter, takes a step forward. “I mean, not while I was overseas, I read up when I got back. I really liked that one about the Obamas’ portraits. Thought that was pretty cool. But the one about the grassroots movements for peace in Afghanistan got me thinking. Like, obviously I was assigned there for a while, but didn’t really consider other things happening there - Actually, I had some questions for you, but we can talk about it later...” 

“Oh. Sure.” You’re slightly shocked at the confession, at the small vision that flashes through your mind of Jake typing your name into Google and catching up on your stories, determinedly following your career even during the most unstable moment in your friendship. It sparks hope in you, sends a wave of hope crashing down on you forcefully. “Wow. I didn’t think you… That means the world to me, Jake.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, excitement reverting back to a somber contemplative expression. “I understand what you’re saying about change,” he says hesitantly, rocks back on his heels. “And I think I’m starting to understand what you meant in your voicemail about the... conglomeration stuff. Loving every version of me. Because I really feel the same way about you.” 

It’s ambiguous, a little mysterious, his words a little stilted and broken, and you replay his words over and over to try and dig up the meaning behind them. But he’s taking another step towards you - if you reach out, you can certainly reach up and run your finger across the small bump in his nose from that football all those years ago. Hold his cheek in your hand like you've always wanted to.

“I don’t know when it happened,” he’s saying, and it makes your heart thud a million miles a minute, makes you want to pinch yourself. “I can’t remember it for the life of me. But I think about the moment I realized it - when you said it to me four years ago. And I regret not saying anything back every fucking day.” 

Your heart stumbles, crushes up against the front of your ribcage as it tries to peek out at the man you’ve loved since you were seventeen. “Oh, Jake,” your response rolls out along with two tears down your cheeks.“ It’s okay - “

The scent of vanilla tobacco hits you first, then his chest as he pulls you into a giant bear hug that envelops you in a warmth that could put both the sun and Texas bonfires to shame. Your face is pressed into his jacket and he’s talking, saying something that you don’t really register until you tilt your head up and dig your chin into his firm chest. 

“I’m in love with you, sweetheart,” the words burst forth. His hand’s resting gently on the small of your back - the warmth of his palm radiates comforting heat through your body that only multiplies as he pulls you into him. You stabilize your hands on his shoulders, crane your neck to look up at him and map out every part of his face - from the small lines in his forehead to the slope of his nose to the slight redness in his cheeks. “It’s okay if it’s too late, if you’ve moved on. I just don’t want to lose you again, don’t want to risk not talking to you, can’t - ”

“Of course I’m in love with you, stupid man,” the words come to you as easily as breathing does. The smile that spreads across his face brings back your favorite eye crinkles, carves a dimple into the corner of his mouth, makes it feel like you’re bathing in sunlight. And Jake wastes no time, doesn’t even hesitate before he’s breathing out a question and you're nodding tearfully and then he's cupping both of your cheeks gently and surging forward to press his lips to yours.

--

Jake tastes like cinnamon, just as you’ve always suspected. Aside from that, nothing about the way you love Jake is predictable. Nothing is ever steady, nothing is ever expected. Every moment with him brings forth a new set of revelations that drives you crazy, tears you to pieces. And somehow, it’s all incredibly worth it, worth the brief heartbreak, worth the years of hoping and waiting for him to join you. Because in the end, he made it. In this moment, it feels like everything is just right.

[lovelybrooke]

IT IS I!! Now that I’ve written about Vox Val and Carmilla I will finally attempt my interpretation of ALASTOR. So just letting you know I was about to send this multiple times within the week but was never satisfied, and so this is an attempt :), I might send in more stuff if I feel this isn’t detailed enough/ incomplete.

Alastor see’s the reader as a fun little puzzle at first, putting them on the stop and trying to figure out what was going on in that little head of theirs, to him this was just entertainment, he really couldn’t care less about the reader, he just saw them as something to keep him entertained if he’s free or bored.

He only really starts to actually like the reader once their a little more comfortable, at least comfortable enough to engage in conversation with Alastor himself or the group, their views on the world, the hotel and whatever is insightful, he finds he actually likes conversing with them even if they don’t agree on most things, the fact that they’re so kind and helpful to everyone, even those who wronged them, intrigues and confuses him, but that isn’t a bad thing, it must just mean that they’re naive and ignorant, he reckons they haven’t actually seen the bad In people. Except he’s wrong, and he learns this during one of their small conversations (with or without the group), the reader spoke about it so casually, their neglect and abuse, it was completely fine to them, they still insist on being kind and helpful to the people who’ve wronged them. Suddenly it isn’t that they’re ignorant, or that they have just been surrounded by good, in a way they’re like him in a way, treated unjustly. (His backstory has yet to be explored but I’m going off of what Vivziepop shared relating to his mother’s death and his weird moral code).

Not to say reader is determined but in Alastor’s mind the reader’s perspective of life is a reflection on their own motivations, and he’s impressed, he might see parts of the reader in charlie but still thinks the reader is distinct in a way Charlie isn’t, they want to help but they aren’t out there, they help in ways that people don’t notice. (I have some examples but I’m shit at explaining so I’ll leave this somewhat up to interpretation) and now that he’s realized this he reflects back to old conversations and realizes how careful they are, not just because they’re anxious but they’re always paying attention, doing little actions that Alastor hadn’t realized is supposed to cater to him.

And now Alastor is really paying attention, is the reader naive? Yes, but they’re so thoughtful in everything they do that he just can’t help but keep watching them, he feels like he’s the only one who’s able to properly guide them, without taking advantage of them. He talks to Rosie about how insightful and clever the reader is, how lovely their company is and so on.

Then he finally notices the Vees watching, as it is he was obsessed but that amplified the second there was competition, suddenly he realizes that someone else could take someone he cares for away from him, and although he always knew there were people out to get him, he didn’t think those same people would want to snatch you.

And me personally I think, every time he feels his relationship with the reader is threatened he’ll become more and more obsessed, more possessive.

ANYWAY IM DONE! I decided to look at some stuff In the canon au master list which helped me a lot :) :), you are free to disagree with anything I wrote thank you for listening!!! (Please pardon any typos)

Omg more stuff I love it.

This was exactly how I viewed Alastor's obsession with reader. Like he views them as a puzzle and wants figure out how/why they're in hell, why they're so nice, what exactly is going on in their head.

And as time goes on this obsession grows and grows, so when he learns that no, reader isn't naive, they've gone through so shit and try their hardest to see the good in people, he's like, genuinely surprised, which is a first for him.

And you're right, Alastor has this idea that he's readers favorite person so when the Vee's and the other overlords start showing interest in reader he becomes way, way more obsessed.

I hope you're writing your own stuff because you're genuinely such an amazing writer, please keep sending stuff in I love it.

[void-wolfie]

heartbeat

summary: when family gets rough, Jenna knows just the way to calm you down. [request]

pairing: jenna ortega x gn!reader

tw: mentions of abuse (not detailed), some tears, but otherwise that's about it (if I need to add something let me know)

words: 1.26k

a/n: it's been too long since i've last posted lol. anyways, hopefully this is what you were hoping for anon (i would've tagged you but wasn't sure if you wanted that lol - you know who you are). anyways, enjoy guys :)

You tapped on the window, trying not to wake the whole house while doing so. You bounced up and down on your heels while you waited, the cool air of the night sending chills up your spine.

No response. You tried again, knocking softly on the glass.

The window finally slid open. Jenna stood on the other side, her hair pulled up into a messy bun and wearing the oversized hoodie she stole from you.

"Can I stay, please?" You didn't have to say anything else, Jenna understood.

For most of your life, your house had been a toxic environment. When it all became too much or something bad happened, you'd escape. More often than not, you'd be at Jenna's house. Thankfully, her family welcomed you with open arms.

Jenna helped you climb through the window, smuggling you into her bedroom like some kind of behind-the-scenes drug deal.

The second you were through the window, you collapsed into Jenna's arms. You held her tight, nestling as close as you could to her and not letting go.

Jenna was a bit surprised; you normally weren't fond of physical contact. She didn't mind it though, she was more than happy to comfort you however she could, even if it was nearly three in the morning.

"It's ok," Jenna whispered, figuring whatever happened had to be pretty bad for you to act like this. "You're safe, I promise."

Six little words. That's all it took for you to break down. You started bawling.

Nowhere else in the world had you ever felt safer than in Jenna's arms. You were safe. No one could hurt you here. And yet, that wasn't entirely true either. Memories of your parents, the things they said and did always managed to stick with you. You would never be able to escape the storm that raged on inside your mind. Wave after wave, each memory worse than the last. Thoughts and images flash in your mind like lightning in a storm.

The more you thought about them, the worse it got. The realization that you'd never be able to escape hit like a ton of bricks...

Your breathing became shallow and ragged, hiccupping through the tears. Jenna could feel the way your heart thumped in your chest. You were going to have a panic attack if she didn't do something.

“Shhh, it’s okay, love. You’re okay.” Jenna wasn’t sure what else to say. Jenna had comforted you many times before, but this felt different, she’d never seen you so distraught.

Jenna slowly brought you down to the floor with her, setting you in her lap as she leaned against the side of her bed. She rubbed circles across your back as you held her tightly, your face nestled into her shoulder, your breathing becoming more erratic with each second that passed.

With one free hand, she tugged open the drawer of her nightstand. She blindly felt around before finally grabbing what she was looking for. A stethoscope. The one her mom had given her for her birthday last year.

She gently took the two earpieces and settled them over her ears. Then she took the chest piece and held it up to your chest. It wasn’t long before the sound of your erratic heartbeat flooded her ears. It made her wince. It was loud, louder than it should be. She couldn't even imagine what your parents did to hurt you so deeply, just seeing you so upset broke her heart...

You could feel the cool metal on your chest as Jenna's hand slipped underneath your shirt, her touch leaving a trail of goosebumps as she went.

You could never understand why Jenna and her stethoscope brought you so much comfort. You'd think someone having their hand up your shirt in the middle of a breakdown would feel like a violation, and yet, it didn't. Her hand on your back rubbing circles, and occasionally slipping up to the nape of your neck to play with the ends of your hair, was comforting. The cool metal drum of the stethoscope against your chest gave you something to focus on. And the sounds of her reassuring you, reminding you that you were safe in her arms, helped to drown out your torturous thoughts.

It was ten minutes before you finally calmed down. Ten agonizing minutes of Jenna worrying sick over you. Wondering if she was doing too much, or maybe too little. Wondering what happened that hurt you this much, did they say something? Do something? Ten long minutes of wondering if she was even helping at all, or just making everything worse?

It wasn't until your crying had finally faded into sniffling that she realized how much calmer you were. It was only a few more minutes after that when she noticed your heartbeat finally return to its familiar steady rhythm.

Your face was still buried into Jenna's shoulder, your arms tightly wrapped around her, when you felt her shift. The two of you hadn't moved from your position in ages, the small shift felt jarring.

Her hand left from under your shirt, and you felt her put the stethoscope off to the side somewhere.

"You okay, baby?"

Despite how Jenna was whispering, it sounded loud in the quiet room. You buried your face further into her shoulder, shaking your head no.

"Do you wanna move to the bed or stay down here?"

You shook your head no once again. You didn't want to move. You just wanted to stay like this forever.

She was silent, she didn't move or say anything. You started doubting your decision. What if she wanted to move? What if she was uncomfortable? The two of you hadn't moved in ages, what if she was hurting or-

"It's ok, we don't have to go anywhere," it was as if she could read your mind. Putting you at ease before your thoughts could eat you alive.

Before your mind could wander anymore, she shifted again, stealing your attention from any stray thoughts. With one arm she reached up to the bed behind her, grabbing one of the blankets and yanking it over the edge. The soft mass landed on the tops of your heads. It was only there for a second before Jenna pulled it down, wrapping it around your shoulders to keep the two of you warm.

Jenna grabbed the stethoscope, she took the two earpieces and gently set them over your ears. She grabbed the drum and put it under her shirt. It took a second, but the sound the Jenna's heartbeat quickly flooded your ears. It was quiet and calm, the familiar rhythm quickly putting you at ease.

It was sweet. The way Jenna just knew how to comfort you. Even on your worst days, she always knew what to say or do to get you feeling better. Anything and everything from midnight fast food runs to ice cream and movie nights, Jenna always made your days better.

“I love you; I’m always going to be here for you,” She kissed the top of your forehead before wrapping her arms around you, “Try and get some sleep, ok? I’m right here if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” it was barely even a whisper, you weren’t even sure if she had heard it. It didn’t really matter if she had or not, the way she held you in her arms told you everything you needed to know.

You would always be safe with her.

You drifted off to sleep with a smile as Jenna's soft heartbeat thumped away in your ears.

[wintfleur]

౨ৎ put a bow on it

°. — pairings ( Estella Hughes oc! X Rutger McGroarty )

°. — summary ( Stella wants to put a bow on her boyfriends bicep, she’s just a girl !!! )

°. — details ( g; fluff. w; pure fluff, it gets a little suggestive at the end. wc; 1.6k )

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( I don’t know what happened I just had the sudden inspiration to write this after watching this Tiktok, so this is definitely based off of that. I hope you guys enjoy !!! Please don’t be a silent reader !!! Also omg I can’t stop giggling about that picture of rut, I had sm fun making it !!! )

°. — ( feel free to send any requests of things you would like to see in this series, or if you just want to share some thoughts! I would absolutely love that! Please comment if you would like to be added to the tag list! )

au masterlist — you can find asks under #💌stellahughes!

°. — asks about stella and rut are under #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🩷୧˚ stella & rut!

Stella giggled as she watched along to the TikTok video, her feet absentmindedly kicking in the air as she laid on her stomach in her bed. The video showed a girl trying to wrap her boyfriend's chest with a ribbon to make a bow. It was simple but it was adorable and now all Stella could think about was trying it out on her own boyfriend. 

Stella liked the TikTok before shutting off her phone and dropping it somewhere amongst her few plushies and pillows she had on her bed. She lifted her jaw that she had rested on her hand and tilted her head back to look at Rutger who was sitting at her desk, his laptop in front of him and his headphones on his head as he worked on his homework. 

He was wearing one of his gray compression shirts that drove her wild, to the point where Stella had playfully banned him from wearing them around her because she was afraid, she wouldn't be able to ‘control’ herself around him. Rutger wore them anyway . . . he loved her stares. 

Stella bit her lip as she watched her boyfriend who was oblivious to her stares, his shoulders flexed as he quickly typed his paper and his head occasionally bopped along to the song, he was listening to through his headphones . . . it was probably a playlist she had made him. It wasn't fair how effortlessly attractive he is. 

Stella sadly tore herself away from her thoughts of her boyfriend's very . . . very muscular shoulders and quietly slipped out of her bed. She felt the cold air of her dorm hit her bare legs as she left the comfort of her warm blankets to distract her boyfriend. Stella wrapped her arms around Rutgers shoulders and leaned down to rest her chin in his shoulder, she felt her  ⸺ his shirt rise up, she shivered feeling the cold on the back of her bare thighs. 

Rutger smiled and paused his typing, tilting his head to face her while he took off his headphones, setting them next to one of Stella's many sketchbooks that were stacked on her desk. “Hi pretty girl” he whispered before he placed a quick smooch on her jaw, Stella smiled and placed her own kiss on his jaw before whispering back “so . . . i have this silly idea.” 

“Oh? say more” Rutger turned around in her spinning chair to face her, his hands moving to her hips and bringing her to sit sideways on his lap while one of her arms were still wrapped around his shoulders. Stella smiled as she made herself comfortable in his lap, she fit perfectly against him. “Can I wrap a bow around your biceps for a TikTok?” Stella asked him quickly. 

Rutger couldn't help but have a chuckle of shock leave his lips at the strange request, but he could never say no to that pretty face, so he smiled and quickly pecked stella’s lips before saying “get your ribbon” Stella almost squeals in happiness, quickly placing a big kiss on Rutgers cheek before hopping off his lap and rushing over to her bedside table, opening the bottom drawer that had some of her arts and crafts supplies. 

Rutger bit his lip and leaned back in her chair as he watched her lean down and look through the supplies, giving him a good look at her panties. A hum of success leaves her lips as she pulls out a pretty pink ribbon, quickly turning back to face him as she holds it up. Rutger quickly looks up to her face and he smiles “Where do you want me?” 

“Just stand here and look pretty” Stella winked as she motioned for him to stand in front of her. He got up from her chair and stood where she wanted him to, watching as she got on her knees on her bed to look for her phone that got lost in the blankets and pillows. “That just so happens to be what I'm best at,” Rutger jokes, smiling when Stella giggles. Rutger stopped himself from grabbing onto Stella's waist and pulling her against him, once she found her phone and stood in front of him. 

“Would you mind holding this for me you stud?” Stella teased him playfully as she held her phone out for him to hold so she could tie the ribbon into a bow. Rutger felt his lips twitch into a smirk at the nickname Stella loved to tease him with, he grabs her phone and slides it into the pocket of his sweatpants. Stella smiled and grabbed one of his arms, wrapping the pink silk ribbon around it, humming along to the song that was playing from the TikTok she had watched. 

Rutger watched Stella with a fond smile as she tried to smooth the ribbon around his bicep so the bow would be pretty and neat. Her fingers were so gentle as she tried to tie the bow, he didn't understand why it drove him so crazy. Stella looked up from his bicep when she felt him flex under her touch, she looked up at him through her eyelashes “Stop flexing, I can’t tie the bow.” 

“I’m not flexing . . . i guess I'm just too muscular for your ribbon” Rutger smirked as he shrugged his shoulders, pretending like he totally didn't flex his arms so she could feel his muscles. Stella rolled her eyes at her boyfriend's antics before letting out a giggle when he flexed again as she tied the bow “I can literally feel you flexing” Stella rolled her eyes again when she saw the bashful smile on Rutgers lips. 

“Save the flexing for the video sexy” stella gave Rutger a wink, teasingly placing a kiss on his shoulder right above the pretty pink bow. Rutger bit back a groan as he felt her slip her hand into his front pocket to grab her phone, her hand teasingly lingering near the inside of his thigh for a few seconds before pulling her hand out and acting like nothing happened. Rutger chuckled and shook his head in disbelief as he watched Stella unlock her phone and find the perfect audio. She knew what she was doing. 

“What?” Stella asked Rutger as she looked up at him, batting her eyelashes innocently as she pretended to be oblivious. Rutger smirked and crossed his arms over his chest, he felt the bow tighten around his bicep and he held in a wince at the tight pressure. He watched as your eyes dropped from his face down to his arm, eyes widening slightly at the sight. Rutger clears his throat and gives stella a smirk when she quickly looks up at him, her cheeks flushed as he spoke “Are you gonna keep staring or are we gonna film the TikTok.” 

“Cause if not, i have an idea of something else we could film” Rutger smiled as he leaned his face closer to stella’s, this wasn't the first time Rutger had hinted at them making their own home movie . . . stella was always worried about their iClouds getting hacked . . . but stella had a perfectly good camcorder they could use. Rutger gave Stella a toothy smile when he noticed her breath hitch and the shy look that comes across her face at the thought. 

“Shut up and stand there please” Stella shyly mumbled as she grabbed her boyfriend's arm and moved it so it wasn't folded across his chest, her cheeks were burning, and she felt her heartbeat faster under Rutger's gaze. Rutger didn't look away from Stella's pretty eyes as he let her move his arm however, she wanted. “I love when you're so demanding. '' Rutger decided to close his mouth when Stella looked up at him with a heated glare, but he could see that his words were starting to affect her. 

Rutger kept his mouth closed as Stella started to film, he could hear the familiar sound of Lana del Rey playing from her phone. When he noticed Stella started to zoom in, he lifted his arm up and flexed, a gasp leaving Stella's lips when she heard the rip of her ribbon before it fell to her floor. Stella stopped filming, deciding it was long enough already, and before she could complain about her ripped bow Rutger was putting his hands on Stella's waist, pulling her flush against him as he leaned down to whisper in her ear “Wanna see something else wrapped in a bow?” 

“But your homework!” Stella exclaimed as she put her hands on Rutgers chest and softly pushed him back from her neck he was about to kiss. Rutger chuckles and slides his hands down from her waist and to the back of her thighs, effortlessly picking her up and moving to drop her softly on her bed. Stella giggled and moved her hips a little to get comfortable before Rutger was swiftly moving between her legs. 

“Consider it as helping me study my anatomy” Rutger breathed out before leaning down and taking her lips into his in a passionate kiss. Stella let out a sound of surprise at the rough kiss, but she was quick to kiss back, her mouth opening and his tongue smoothly sliding into her mouth as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Stella softly tugged on the hair at Rutgers' nape as his hands traveled her sides. Stella pulled away from the kiss to whisper as she caught her breath “You don't take anatomy classes?” 

Rutger smirked and slid one of his hands under her shirt, his warm touch sending shivers down Stella's spine as he softly moved his hand up her side. His thumb teasingly resting under her boob as he stared into Stella's pretty eyes. A smirk makes his way across his lips when he sees the look in his girlfriend's eyes. His homework was long forgotten in both of their minds. 

“I do now”

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( rutger, stella . . . and her camcorder . . . imagine 😵‍💫 )

°. — taglist ( @privatemythss @juraj-slafkovsky @cixrosie @toasttt11 )