#individual regret is individual regret. it happens that’s life move on

[identitty-dickruption]

first off: i agree with your post on the pressure to not transition being a million times greater than any pressure to transition

but what can be said in response to the detrans women online who are constantly saying "no it *was* that easy for me to transition, and i think it shouldve been harder than just me giving my "informed consent" which is all thats required in much of the US"

the right to make choices includes the right to make choices that suck. people make decisions they regret all the time. it’s true that information should be freely accessible so that everyone can know as much as they can about medical processes before they occur. but the biggest issues in this domain are very much not with respect to HRT. informed consent means that we get to choose what we do with our bodies but it also means sometimes we make the wrong choices for us. that sucks but life is full of regrets and it happens. the solution is not to implement a series of external arbiters who get to decide which people are actually trans, because I promise that is worse for everyone in a million ways

[ririsasy]

This scene in May December broke me because how innocent and pure Joe is, how he knows that's something wrong with his life, he's trapped but couldn't get out and he didn't want anything that happened to him to ever happen to his son. It's heartbreaking to see how young he still is.

I want to give all the award for Charles Melton portrayal of Joe, especially in this scene, when he curled up in his son’s embrace like he’s the one who’s younger than his own son because in a sense he’s, mentally he’s, that tremble in his hands as he tried to explain his thoughts, thinking that he would do something wrong to his son, gosh he’s too young to be a father, and Charles Melton just completely nailed this role with his whole mannerisms, that small broken voice when he whispered “that’s all I do”. he's helpless, he's anxious all the time, but he bottled up inside because he has no chance to open up.

The way they portrayed Joe's naivety like he's still a young 13 y.o boy trapped in time because the manipulation worked with a vulnerable boy like he was. They showed his youthful spirit still with his hobbies with the butterflies, his timid movement or the way Gracie bossed him around and he didn't even realize it, that he couldn't even be open and honest with his feeling or be validated about what he's feeling because Gracie would just spin those words around and make it look like he's the one who hurt her, twisting his words to her advantage, the abuse never actually end, even after the 24 years of marriage.

Gracie is a predator, an unapologetic manipulative woman that thinks she does nothing wrong because deep down she's just evil that way, the scene in a forest when she met a fox and she look eye to eye with that predator, I feel like she was looking at herself. The way she’s interacting with her children from the previous marriage, how cold a mother she was, she didn’t care much about anyone feeling. Or the way even her children with Joe didn’t like her that much, because they’re old enough to understand that their parents relationship is not normal at all, but they just couldn’t say anything about it because at the end of the day she is still their mother.

Also it was incredibly eerie at the contrast love letter that young Joe sent to Gracie, where it was just so innocent, no ulterior motive or whatsoever, he was just a kid, feeling safe and at peace around adult and expressing it that way to her, it wasn't wrong at all, not a sign that an adult should make a move at that! Then compare to the one that Gracie wrote to him, she understood completely the situation they're in, the way she asked him in the letter not to tell anyone about it, she's always been on the upper hand, she took advantage of Joe's vulnerability and used it to her own sick desire. It wasn't told explicitly in the movie but seriously everything just feel so nauseating to watch thinking how young he was.

Now Joe is older and you know nobody can safe him except himself, If he wanted to be saved or not, or if he'd accepted his life just as it's, he's just a victim but he told himself that he didn't want people to look at him like one. It's all in the adult hands that should be the ones who do better because they know better and put a stop to something that's morally wrong, it's the adult responsibility to give the understanding, but the problem is Gracie is not a good person at all or a misunderstood individual or anything, she did everything with full conscience and with no regret because she’s sick in the head.

Also Natalie Portman’s character, Elizabeth, what’s up with her? I feel like her interest for the project itself was so questionable, she looks like a predator herself at the end, was she having an affair with the director that wanted to produce the movie? The phone call she had with the director asking him about his wife was kinda sus, when she was looking at the tape for young joe character and asking for a sexier looking actor, 13 y.o boy? What’s up with that?? And that euphoric masturbation?? complete with a laugh she did at the shop where Joe and Gracie supposedly had their first sexual encounter together, it’s all so weird and not to mention she end up sleeping with Joe as well! She was taking advantage of him nonetheless, I know that Joe is older now and should be able to make his own decision but considering that Elizabeth’s intention was never actually genuine and lure him in, flirting with him at his workplace, it’s manipulative as hell.

The way Elizabeth keep trying to mimic Gracie’s every movements, I know it’s for the role, but everything that she does also kinda eerie in notion. Perhaps she and gracie wasn’t that much different? She just didn’t act on it? Or is she such a psychopath in away she wanted to experience all kind of peculiar side of human? Where she's just so detached on human feeling and only sees everything just as story? That’s why she wanted to be an actress because that was her motivation? Is she a case of an actor that took method acting in extreme? To the point she lose the way to connect with story in away that still has humanity in it because this is real people lives she’s adapting and not a fantasy. I really couldn’t read her true motives at the end. Perhaps there were two predators in the movie?

Over all May December is a really thought provoking film, it’s a movie I’d recommend to anyone who just love a kind of movie that makes you think about it long after you watch it. Julian Moore, Natalie Portman and Charles Melton act so brilliantly in their respective roles. I feel like Charles Melton might get his first oscar nomination for supporting actor for this role because how good he was in this. 9/10.

[starlight-45]

Trying to take care of drunk reader (Part 1)

Featuring: Yoichi Isagi, Meguru Bachira, Rin Itoshi and Michael Kaiser

Here's the masterlist!

A/n:- Don't know why I did this. thought it would be funny.

~ISAGI YOICHI~

• Poor guy was just concerned for your life when he saw you chugging that third glass of wine with flushed cheeks.

• Isagi dosen't say anything though and thinks to let you enjoy yourself for today, sipping up his non-alcoholic drinks calmly.

• However, he draws the line with it when he sees sees going you not being able to walk in a straight line.

• Regrets for not saying anything before. A lot. Like really.

• "HEYYY BRO, WHAT'S THE PLAN FOR TONIGHT BRO??"

"I'm your boyfriend y/n, please stop calling me your bro 😭"

• Never, ever again, he thinks. Yes, he always wanted a sister but you're his girlfriend! Stop calling him that!

• But we all know, this guy is the responsible one. Of course he'd take care of your drunken self well.

• A bit annoyed by the situation, yes but also intrigued if you happen to utter out stuff and secrets your sober self would never.

• Is literally goggling stuff like "Do's and don'ts with a drunk person" , "How to make somehow sober as soon as possible" while you're clinging on his back like a koala.

• Please don't laugh at him later for doing that, he is an athelete who never dealt with a drunk individual.

• Gently urges you to sleep, as soon as you guys get home, because lord knows he just wants you to get back to your usual self.

• Because Isagi doesn't think he can survive being called 'bro' again by you. :')

~Meguru Bachira~

• Bachira's definitely laughing at your funny, silly actions all the time. Not like in a "You're such an idiot" way, but in a "That's so cute!" type of way actually.

• Takes this as an opportunity to be the more responsible one in this relationship for once which obviously never happens.

• And by "responsible" I meant playfully scolding you, trying to imitate the way you scold him sometimes when he gets out of line sometimes.

• "Y/n, you can't take that money plant home~!"

"BUT IT'S MONEY PLANT! IT CAN GROW MONEY!"

"OMG LET'S TRY IT THEN!"

• ...Yeah. I guess you already knew he fails miserably at that.

• Very good at handling your mindless ramblings , like you could tell him every thought of yours which came from your overthinking process.

• And believe me sweetheart, he would have the perfect reply to match your vibe, somehow. Lord knows whow he does it every time because I don't.

• "Meguru...when you say forward and backward your lips moves in those directions."

"WAIT IT'S THE SAME WITH 'YOU' AND 'ME'!"

"OMG NEW DISCOVERY!"

• But jokes aside Bachira encourages you to drink a lots and lots of water to help you get better. :D

• Long story short, perfect companion to get crazy with!!

~Rin Itoshi~

• Was geuninely dreading the possibility of being the babysitter of your drunk self when he accidentally came late to your little 'outing' with your friends.

• still managed to look all cool and unbothered while coming. What in the actual hell is up with this guy?

• Needless to say, his fears came true. I mean this guy can't even handle having teenagers his age around sometimes.

• So how is he supposed to handle an individual who has lost their sense of coordination because of these shitty drinks?

• Anyway.

• Tries his best not to glare or be too harsh on you in this state, but y'know his nature. Definitely made you cry over the most stupid shit ever.

• "CAN WE TAKE THIS KITTY AT OUR HOME??? I'LL FEED IT- TAKE IT TO A WALK EVERY DAY-"

"No we can't. I have enough of taking care of your stupid ass already."

"YOU'RE SUCH A MEANIE!!!! 😭"

• ...and from that Rin already mentally decided to never EVER let you get this much drunk. Because let's be honest here, his way of communication is 90% of the times with insults.

• Despite his tough exterior, is worried as hell though, like what if you got alcohol poisoning? Please someone remind this guy that three glasses in years doesn't get you that.

• That's why, if you need to throw up or anything, he suprisingly doesn't give you any snarky remarks. Just calmly rubbing your back.

• Kinda knows that he is a screwup when it comes to words, so tries his best with his actions.

~MICHAEL KAISER~

• I'm sorry but Kaiser is another one who laughes at your drunk antics. And definitely in that "you're such an idiot" type of way 😭

• This bastard see what I did there haha I'm so funny, please don't block me🙏🏻 is certainly enjoying this way too much than he should.

• Messes around with you by saying the most random shit, for the sake of his own entertainment.

• Like. You accidentally hit a mail box and then you were apologising to that non-living thing y'know with the bowing all.

• And Michael was like, "Y/n you know this guy here has gotten very hurt because of your hitting?"

"I'M SO SORRY SIR IT WON'T HAPPEN AGAIN!!!

• When he does all this bullshit in front of Ness, and that guy suggests to just leave ya alone and they their way.

• Kaiser looked at him like he was speaking some kind of sin or something, and like. two hundred percent offended before shooing Ness away.

• Ex-fucking-cuse him, but does he look like the type to leave his girlfriend just like that? Sure he is an asshole, has many mental issues...but not that.

• In case you're wondering, those are the author's words, ya really think he would think all that of himself hm?

• Oh by the way, he read once about the intoxicated state of humans so he's not that hopeless about your situation then as he appears to be.

• Get lots of water, gentle with his movements with you, tries you to get to sleep....yeah. he's not that bad for you.

A/n: The author promises sincerely that she is not high on anything. What in the actual fuck I wrote even I don't know 😭

[forsaken-headcanons]

Since 007n7's lore seems to be getting a rewrite (the actual 007n7 is helping! A!) I would like to throw my hat in the ring, as I've had an interesting concept hit my brain.

At first, 007n7 was just an average person, just with some shifty connections. He worked at Builder Brothers and was good friends with Elliott. He got his paycheck at the end of every week, and was a hard enough worker he earned several bonuses. He lived alone, and had a mostly comfortable life. Sure he had to cut corners to make ends meet once in a while, but who didn't skip a meal every now and again?

He and Noli were friends in college, and Noli highly encouraged him to take up hacking and/or join his group (which was rapidly transforming into a cult,) but there was no pressure. 007n7 refused every offer - he was perfectly happy the way he was. Noli, while extremely disappointed, accepted his refusal, while reminding Seven that he could always call him up for a favor, big or small. They would chat every once in a while, and Seven wouldn't report Noli to the mods. Life was good.

Then that little red pillbaby got left at his doorstep. At first, 007n7 tried to give the little guy to the foster care system, because he didn't think he had what it took to be a single father. But one night, he had a nightmare of the baby looking hurt and scared, reaching for him with tears in his eyes. That did it for Seven - he adopted c00lkidd outright the very next day. And he never regretted it.

But as c00lkidd grew, 007n7 found it exponentially harder to take care of the both of them. He took on more hours. He got another job. He tried to homeschool c00lkidd in his free time. They moved into a smaller house. He got another job. He got more hours. He skipped more meals in favor of feeding c00lkidd. He got his cousin to watch the house. They moved in with 007e7. He didn't sleep. E took on extra hours at his job.

It wasn't enough.

Seven called Noli. Noli taught him the basics. He started teleporting to work. He used different glitches to boost his efficiency. His mind locked onto coding easily, and he started developing the c00lGUI. He tried to get a more tech-focused job but was rejected. He used clones to work all his jobs at once.

It wasn't enough.

It was never enough.

He realized he wasn't really valuable to these people.

He realized c00lkidd wasn't valuable to these people.

He snapped.

He continued to work on the c00lGUI, enhancing it, making it bigger and better. He discovered hacks that shocked even Noli.

E saw what was happening. He tried to talk N out of it.

He didn't listen.

He founded Team c00lkidd, and enlisted several like-minded individuals to his side. He made c00lkidd the face of his madcap endeavor. So they could see who they were robbing. So he would never forget who all this was for. Was it dangerous? Of course. But if they wanted his family, they would have to go through him first. And he would not make it easy.

He returned to the place it all began.

And he brought hell down upon their heads.

C00lkidd was four at the time. He made sure it would be a show that would bring a smile to that precious face. He even let the little guy help stir up the chaos.

Elliott didn't recognize the monster in front of him.

It was almost two years before 007n7 got caught. Noli actually got caught before him, and he broke him out of jail.

It would have gone a lot worse for both 007n7 and c00lkidd if Shedletsky hadn't intervened. He saw a bit of himself in the "little Firebrand" and his hotshot father. Maybe he saw something he had lost long ago...?

007n7 was sentenced to exhausting community service for a while, but there was no fine, and all in all, it could have been a lot worse. At least c00lkidd hadn't been sentenced to anything, and didn't have to suffer for his father's actions.

But then c00lkidd went missing. He was only seven. 007n7 was devastated. He searched desperately for him. Even Shedletsky helped.

But three years passed and no sign of his little Firebrand. He became increasingly depressed. He had given up everything for c00lkidd, and now he was gone, seemingly for good. He started pushing everyone else away. Noli and E both tried getting through to him, with no results. He continued his downward spiral. His little red pillbaby, gone.

We all know what happened next.

oh this is so fucking good jesus christ. we have no words other than THIS IS AMAZING like GOOD LORD??? ok anon. hope you don't mind if we yank this out of your hands /silly. THE WRITING IS IMPECCABLE OGUHG (STOPP WE KNOW WHO YOU'RE REFERRING TO 💔💔💔 shed missing 1x realcore...)

this concept is delicious got damn. argh. JUST. THE PROGRESSION OF 7N7'S HACKS GETTING WORSE???? Michelin star type meal holy shamoly. everyone please read this it's so peak

[astra-ravana]

The Satanic Statutes

The Satanic Statutes of the Celestial Church of Leviathan are designed to aid the Satanist into physical, spiritual, abd philosophical freedom.

Every one acts as a key to one's liberation from the oppression of the materialistic and superficial society in which we live, and be a guide to fulfillment in one's life.

The Decrees of Lucifer

1. Reject Any Act Of Tyranny: Tyrannical oppression cannot survive with forces of rebellion at work. One should opose those who oppress them and others from experiencing the satisfaction life may offer.

2. Seek Truth In All Things: The pursuit of knowledge leads to freedom of the mind. Always seek to grow and learn.

3. Respect That Which Deserves It: Any idea that poses no threat or problems should be respected, even if it is disagreed with. Unnecessary bigotry should be discarded.

4. Abandon That Which Inflicts Harm: One should let go of what troubles them to move closer to fulfillment. They should attempt to release what hinders their happiness, and purge impurities that block them from their Truth.

5. Let Others Live Their Truth: Respect other individuals in their pursuit of Truth and happiness, as long as it harms none, in reason. For to proselytize is to shed the value of your Truth.

6. Strive For Self-Illumination: To be an individual is to be true, but to know one's self is to be free. One should always strive to shine a light on their every aspect, light and dark, positive and negative.

The Magickal Suggestions of Satan

1. When one decides to perform a magickal working, one should be completely sure of their intent, what they want the outcome to be, and what might happen should the spell work in a different way than wanted. They should be 100% sure they want what they are asking for/working towards.

2. One shouldn't enter into the craft with any fear, as this will damage the effectiveness of whatever sort of magick they're working and leaves them open to spiritual attack.

3. One should take the necessary precautions to ensure that the magickal working is met with success, and that they are safe from any backlash. This means taking advantage of protective magick and balancing rituals.

4. One should know the area around them, and work in tune with the land and the spirits dwelling there. Magick will always work through the mediums of Spirit and/or the land.

5. If one is to work with spirits, one should get to know who exactly they are working with and set boundaries for that relationship.

6. If one should promise something to a spirit in return for help, one should make good on their promise, lest the spirit decide to inflict harm.

The Edicts Of Samael

1. Let not death strike a fear in your heart. For it comes to those with and without.

2. Utilize your gifts without needless restraint. For if one is to reach their potential, it wouldn't be through solemn shackles.

3. Your pride is your virtue. For if your flames should be put out, your Truth must light them again.

4. Cease not the battles waged in passion. For the war will be lost and despair will be found.

5. Remember the joys and woes of a life well lived. For riches won't sustain vitality.

6. Repair that which you have broken. For hideous regret will soil the soul.

[uzurimisery]

the space between two bodies. / satosugu x reader / (part 2)

Warnings: MDNI, smut, happy ending, DP, unprotected sex, hints of baby trapping, squirting, praise kink if you squint, still some unhealthy dynamics bc thats what a relationship with the two of them would be, use of ‘girl’, a hint of objectification, no sorcery au, unedited

wc: 9k

part one

Two painfully slow and tense weeks dragged on. Each day you spent doing your best to avoid Suguru, and Satoru who had just come back to town from a shoot. Every time you locked eyes with one of them it felt like the walls were closing in. 

But there are traditions you can’t weasel out of and so, like clockwork, the biweekly get-together your friend groups had for years will happen. Suguru, Satoru, Utahime, Kento, Shoko, and you, sometimes a few extra people or dates, would crowd around a table of some izakaya in between all of you. There’d be too many beer glasses on the table, but another round would be ordered anyway. 

You used to laugh until your sides hurt, sharp cramps from overuse, push the limits of intoxication and your aging body. Couldn’t drink like you were 20 anymore, but you could sure as hell try. 

Simpler back then. 

Being young. 

Things were easier, so less complicated. You were entangled in a web of responsibilities, bills, and regrets that pockmarked your life. 

Shoko slammed her pint glass on the table. “Anyhow have you guys been? Feel like I haven’t seen anymore in 80 years.” Her smile was normally so infectious, the bags under her eyes endearing. Too many late nights and endless shifts at the hospital made them a permanent feature. 

“I’m okay,” you replied too quickly, voice wobbling slightly. 

Suguru’s gaze fell on you immediately. Sharp and heavy, like he was peeling back the lie. His eyes were too much, too painful. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, but he says nothing. Just let the weight of his stare speak for him.

“Just okay?” Now Satoru’s eyes flicked over to you, his normal lighthearted expression gone. 

A specimen under observation. You were under the microscope, both of them dissecting you, searching for answers you weren’t ready to give.

You forced a shrug and a weak, unconvincing, laugh. “Yeah, just okay.” The all too familiar lump formed in your throat again. “Still job hunting, still freeloading off these two in the meantime.” It felt wrong to joke, swallow, and brittle. 

Your shoulder shook, trying to sell it, but Satoru’s eyes couldn’t be fooled. 

“I think the board members at Shibuya General are hiring for an admin. Want me to put in a good word? The HR guy likes me,” Shoko offered. Always trying got be so helpful, so genuine. 

Utahim snorted, smushing her face against her girlfriend’s arm. “That’s because he wants to fuck you.” 

“Not true.” 

“He texts you toomuch for a guy who just wants to be friends.” 

“Well last I knew I’m still a lesbian.”

You cut through the lover’s quarrel. “I thought you were still at the University of Tokyo?” 

“No, I moved to Shibuya General about two months ago.” Her tone was casual but it made you wince. 

“Oh, yeah!” you scramble to try and cover up your blunder. “Sorry, I knew that. I guess the beer’s getting to me more than usual.” The smile you give is half-hearted and forced.

Satoru took the opportunity to turn the conversation towards himself, regaling the group about his latest project. 

You stared at your beer, tuning out the chatter around you. The carbonation inside the class fizzed softly. Each little bubble rose to the surface before popping. They were so small, so insignificant. Guess that’s like society. Insignificant people all clamoring over each other, doing nothing really, but adding to something in the end.

Maybe that's all you were, a little bubble in the sea of society, drifting along with everyone else. The collective group matters, but on the individual level they didn’t. You didn’t. Maybe you never had. Maybe you were just another fleeting presence. Born to fade into the background of someone else’s grander, more important life. 

It’s what you deserved. All that greed in your heart. The quiet pain and dissatisfaction gnawing on your bones every single day. Everything you wanted just fucking unreachable goals, and you wanted it all but everything shimmered and gleamed just out of reach like a mirage. 

Your nails dug deep into the flesh of your palms, cutting the skin. 

Satoru’s laugh rang in your ears, echoing on and on. It hammered in your skull with every chuckle. Mocking you, throwing everything you’ve ever told yourself back in your face. Every lie you’ve told. Every way you’ve wronged him. It grew louder and louder, pressure building in your skull. 

You slammed your hands on the table, glasses knocking into each other, the wood shuddering from the force. Everyone stopped, staring at you as you pushed the chair back. 

“I’m gonna do smoke,” the words are barely audible as you stumble out of your seat and make for the back door, their gazes heavy on your back.

The door slammed shut behind you. Panic clawed at your throat, a bitter acrid taste clinging to your tongue. Your throat felt clogged, the lump growing bigger, chest tightening like a boa constrictor coiling around its prey.  

Hands shaking, you reach into your shoulder bag, fumbling to pull out the half-empty pack of menthol cigarettes. You had quit smoking four years ago but you were back at it now. The icy taste is a fleeting distraction, a brief reprieve from the reality around you. At least they tasted better than the regular filter ones. 

As you sparked up your lighter and took the first drag, the burn seared your throat.  Familiar pain echoing the mess inside you. The smoke circled in your lungs, searing as it went. A cough snuck out before you took another drag, dropping into a crouch. Your weight in your heels as you rest your head against your knees. 

“Why can’t you be normal about things?” you whisper to yourself. 

It was always the same. People, feelings, places, everything-- all you had to do was the right thing and you kept fucking it up.

How many more times could you fuck things up before everyone turns their back on you? How long was the end of the rope you were so desperately clinging to? If you let go, would it end it all? Would the rope wrap around your neck and put you down like the dog you were?

“Get your shit together.” You mutter to yourself, cigarette pulled to your lips, voice hoarse and raw. You took another drag, the smoke stinging your eyes as it hung in the air. 

“You just gotta get through tonight…” 

And then the night after that. 

And after that. 

And all the never-ending nights that came stretching into the horizon. An unbroken chain of sleepless hours testing your resolve to be a person. All of them blurring together in a haze of regret and longing, each passing moment a reminder of everything you were trying to escape.

“So what’s really wrong?” 

It was Shoko, leaning casually against the wall. The shoulder of her cream jacket picked up the dirt of the building. She pulled a cigarette out of her own pack, reds as she always smoked, and lit it. 

“Nothing,” you replied, but your voice cracked, thick with phlegm, and weighed down by self-hatred. Tears threatened to spill as you stared at the ground, unable to meet her eye.

“That’s bullshit, and we both know it,” she shot back, exhaling away from you. The accusation stung, but there was warmth in her tone. 

“I fucked up Shoko. I fucked up.” 

The confession hit heavy. It shattered the glass, broke the dam holding back your emotions. The tears finally fall as you look up at her, vulnerable and afraid.

Concern washed over her face as she crouched down next to you, a silent offer of comfort. “What’d you do?” 

You shook your head, shame squeezing your heart, beating it like a drum. “I can’t tell you or you’ll hate me.”

“Doll face, I could never hate you,” she spoke softly, stubbing her cigarette out against the asphalt, her focus now purely on her. One of her hands, warm compared to the night air, reached out to cup your chin. Gently, she compelled you to meet her eyes, to keep your own on her.

The floodgates being this open felt like you were drawing in your misery. But in Shoko’s eyes, you found no judgment, only empathy and love. It made the deep, aching wounds of solitude and loneliness you bear bleed again, cutting through the scar tissue to stitch them up again so they'd heal properly.

“I slept with Suguru.” it came out as a broken sob, bursting out of your chest, each word cutting like glass against the balms of your hand after punching your mirror. Betrayal, guilt, confusion, and greed all pour out in a single gut-wrenching truth.

Her eyes widened at first, surprised by the admission before they softened.

She didn’t pull away, she stayed close, thumb brushing over your cheek repetitively and soothingly. Shoko didn’t speak for a moment, just let your admission hang in the air, the gears turning in her head.

“You… you slept with Suguru?” She spoke as if she was weighing the words, chewing through them, trying to understand the depth of what had transpired, trying to understand how it had happened.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” you choked out, voice trembling. “It was a mistake. I was angry, I wasn’t thinking, and I just… I fucked up everything.” 

Shoko’s silence said more than words ever could. You could tell she was holding back from asking you a thousand questions. But there was one she had to ask.

“Does Satoru know?” 

You shook your head, the motion barely noticeable. 

“No. I-I don't know how to tell him, or if I should.” you sniffled gaze drifting off “Sometimes I think it’d be better if I just disappeared.”

“Hey,” she moved closer, hand dropping to squeeze your own, trying to anchor you to the present and remind you that you weren’t alone. “You can’t just disappear. I don’t know how, but things will work out okay. And I won’t tell anyone, but you need to tell Satoru, both of you do.” She was firm but her voice had a compassionate edge, trying to gently nudge you to face the reality you were so desperately trying to run from “I think it’ll turn out better than you think. They both love you.”

“Okay.” You whispered, voice barely audible. So small. So fragile.

Shoko smiled like you were a little kid seeking comfort from a scrapped knee “Good.” She wrapped her arms around you tight, making you sob again, tears quickly dampening her shirt.

Shoko held you like this for some time, just letting you cry. Her hand rubbing circles on your back. She didn't rush you, try to stop you from crying. She just held you. 

After what felt like an eternity you had cried all you could cry, eyes puffy now. You felt so drained, so exhausted, but better overall. A bit lighter. The weight of it all is now shared with someone else. 

Shoko finally pulled back, resting on her heels. 

“It’ll be alright. Just gotta take it one step at a time.”

For the first time in forever, it felt like you could breathe a little bit easier.

“I can’t go back there tonight, Shoko, please… can I stay with you?”

“Of course, you can”

It’s easy passing it off as a girls' night when you’ve gone inside to collect her things and Utahime. No one questioned it, though Satoru did raise a brow in suspicion but chose not to comment. At least you’d have this one night to just ignore it all. 

───※ ·❆· ※───

“Sometimes I feel like you create so much space between us,” Satoru speaks from over on your bed. It’s one of his rare days off and he’s taken to hanging out in your room while you applied for jobs. 

Normally him being in here would be comforting, a nice presence to get you through the mundane clog of applications. But it’s not anymore. It just makes you feel guilty. 

You look over at him, long limbs spread out over your duvet. Pausing your typing you speak for the first time in 30 minutes. “What do you mean?”

He sighs, rolling over and propping himself up on his elbows to meet your eyes. “You create space between us. Randomly. Put up a barrier and keep me out, like you're purposefully hiding from me.”

Your eyes dart back to the screen. 

“It’s not intentional,” you murmur. “I just… there’s a lot on my mind.” 

“I get that, but you can talk to me about it. I’m always here for you.” 

Hiding things from him was the worst. 

“I… there’s just some stuff-” 

Satoru pats the bed next to him, sitting up crisscross.  “Sit and talk.”

You hesitate for a moment, the decision swinging in the air like a pendulum, before you stand and go to sit next to him. There’s an attempt to take a deep breath before you start, to remember everything Shoko had said. 

“I need to keep you something, and I don’t know if it’ll change how you think about me.”

His warm, soft hands reach out to hold your own. Countless manicures kept them baby-smooth.

“Whatever it is I’m here.”

You looked down at your entwined fingers, the guilt rattling around you once again. “Suguru and I had sex.” his grip tightened “Not full on, but oral. It-it was a mistake and I’m sorry. I understand if you want to kick me out. I’ll leave, and you never have to see me again. I just couldn’t keep pretending like things were fine and I know now you probably hate me and want me gone. But I just--”

You were cut off by his lips crashing against yours. His lips followed yours as you tried to pull away confused. Satoru’s kiss was urgent, needy, and oppressive almost as if he kept you in tow. He grabs your waist, fingering and digging into the fat, squeezing so tightly. It felt like he was anchoring himself to you, refusing to let you do. Blindingly white teeth bit down into your bottom lip, begging you to let him in. 

You could never say no to him, you were always so weak to his charm. So you let him in. 

His tongue was warm and wet in your mouth as he brushed it over yours. You respond in turn, letting him decide the kiss. Sartoru’s free hand untangles from your own and goes to the back of your neck, half in your hair. He tilts your head back, leaning forward on his knees to deepen the kiss. The hand on your waist somehow squeezed tighter, thumb rubbing against the ribbed fabric of your tank top. 

When he pulled away, a small strand of spit connecting the two of you, his eyes were wild with fear and possession. 

“Don’t,” his eyes searched yours with an intensity you had never seen before. “Don’t say you’ll leave, don’t ever say that again.” 

You were panting, confused, failing to understand what just happened. “I’m sorry?” It's whispers as you catch your breath. “I just thought you’d want me gone.”

He tilts your head to the side and kisses the length of your neck. “You don’t get to leave me.” The words as muffled as he places a kiss between each one. 

Satoru bristles and pushes you back into the bed. Climbing on top of you, he cages you under him and pins your wrists together in his hand above your head. His eyes a wild, pupils fully blown out and it scared you.  He’s crying now. One of the tears hit your face and he wipes it off, so gently and sweet, with his free hand before collapsing on top of you. 

His body wraps around your own, his face tucked into your neck. He’s shaking slightly. As if the thought of losing you really brought him to this point. That you actually leaving would break him. 

You wiggle your hands free and hug him, rubbing up and down his back as you do. 

Notoriously, Satoru was not good with people he cared about leaving. Be it for work trips or temporarily, he didn’t do well with people not being accessible to him. He was filled with a desperate need to keep the people he cared about exactly where he wanted them. It was to the point he’d forsake his own well-being, his own feelings, for the sake of it. 

You feel the vibrations against your skin before you can process what he said. 

“I can’t lose you.” 

“Satoru,” you try to pull away but his grip is too tight. “I slept with your fiance and you want me to stay?” 

He nods, hair tickling your chin. “It’s okay if it's you.” 

“You can’t just be fine with that doe the sake of keeping me around. What about your relationship?” 

When he finally pulls out of your neck, his eyes still hold that same intensity. “Sleep with me too.” He hovers over you, noses nearly touching. 

“I can't just-”

“Do you think he didn’t tell me?” he bends down and kisses you again. “We reached an agreement a long time ago. So fuck him, fuck me, fuck both of us I don’t care. What will it take to keep you here? I’ll give you anything, everything you want.” 

“Satoru-”

“Don’t try and tell me it’s not okay. You’re not leaving. The three of us, Suguru, you, and me, we stay together. We’re better together.” He shouts the first word and you wince. 

“You’re scaring me.” 

That snaps him out of it. 

He clamors off of you, leaping across the room. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he rushes back over as you sit up collapsing on his knees in front of the bed his head resting on your thighs. “Don’t leave please I’m sorry.” 

“Satoru calm down—“

He rambles into the skin of your thighs, hands grabbing your own. “It’s okay, he told me the night it happened. I wasn’t mad, I’m not mad. I was a little jealous but because I wasn’t there too. I told him that we needed to talk to you about it first but he told me we needed to wait because you weren’t doing well and then he goes and does this.”

“Satoru,” you’re stern with him now. “Calm down.”

Satoru was an anxious individual under all the bravado. It’s been years since he had a moment like this. Normally the medication he’s on prevented it from getting it this point.

It took a few minutes, you pulled him onto the bed with you and made him lie down before he was calm enough to talk again.  He’s lying on his side, mirroring you, his feet dangling off the bed.

“One day I realized I understood why he felt that way towards you and that day I started feeling the same.”

“Are you saying you’re in love with me too?”

He nodded

“Since when?”

“I can’t pinpoint when. There was the trip to Vietnam. It was raining, but you didn’t care though. You ran out from the umbrella and danced around, jumping, and smiling. It had been the first time in what felt like ever that I had seen you so carefree and happy that I ran out after you. I think that that's when things really started to change for me, start to blur the lines between romantic and platonic. But I knew for certain when Haruki cheated on you I was already in love with you by then. I was so mad. At him for doing that to you, and at myself for thinking how much better I could treat you.”

He reaches out and strokes the face of your face.

“Suguru and I used to argue about this when we both realized how we felt towards you as individuals and then as a couple. He was against saying anything. Leaving things just the way they were. No point in trying to fix what isn’t broken and risk our relationship. I had always thought it’d be me that cracked first. Tell you all the grimy little details of how sickly in love with you I am. It was like a bet with myself, not telling you, especially when we were both sure you felt the same way. Neither one of us wanted to pressure you into anything thought, especially because you live with us.”

“Jesus,” you looked up, LEDs blinding as you blinked back tears “So that's what he meant when he said you wouldn’t mind.” 

“It’s our fault,” He pulled you towards him, your face resting against his chest “We should have told you about this before. I’m sorry.” He kisses the top of your head, voice thick with emotion as he starts crying with you. 

The two of you were always in sync like that. If one of you cried the other was right behind. It’s why Suguru hated watching romcoms with the both of you. At the end of the Notebook, you both had worked yourselves up so much that the two of you fell asleep on the couch cuddled up together.

A choked sob wracked your body “I’m sorry. I love you too, and I love Suguru.” The words were more of a whine as you cried “I’m sorry for being greedy.”

Satoru’s own tears picked up in time with yours “You’re not greedy.” his voice trembling “If you’re greedy I’m greedy.”

You clung to him, feeling warm in his embrace. Feeling almost whole again “I just don’t want to hurt anyone. I’m such a mess.” You were quiet as you spoke, the fear that's been eating you up slipping out. 

You were so scared of fucking things up between all of you more than you had already fucked it up. Everything you touched felt like you broke and you didn't want to break them too. They were so pristine and perfect without you there. Maybe you’d only ruin things, stain them, muttle them unrecognizable. You could have ruined things for them already. 

He held you tighter as if he was trying to blend the two of you together.

“I’m so scared of ruining everything and losing you both.” you sob out.

Satoru gently shifted the two of you so he could place a chaste kiss against your lips.

“You could never ruin anything.” his breath was warm against your skin.

“I feel like I have.” 

“You are the most wonderful person I have ever met. If there want anything ruined by you, it was meant to be broken. Jsu because somethings broken doesn’t mean it doesn’t have beauty, or value, or isn’t deserving of love.”

This time you took the initiative and kissed him again, his lips soft against yours. It was tender, filled with all the love that was between the two of you. Quiet. Peaceful. Serene. 

───※ ·❆· ※───

Since Suguru was still out at the office, dealing with a client, Satoru and you took to making dinner for the three of you. A simple katsu curry and rice with some vegetables. It’s simple, not overly complex, but it feels routine to make. Nothing too deviant. As you were cooking, Satoru and you intermittently cried and stole kisses. Gentle touches on the arms arm or side, nothing that hadn’t happened between the two of you before. Satoru had always been touchy but now they carried so much more weight. So much more meaning, each passing brush of his fingers against the expanse of your skin singing praises. 

You sliced the vegetables carefully, occasionally glancing at Satoru as he worked on the curry. His hands stirred the sauce with practiced ease. It was always surprising to learn he was the one who did the majority of the cooking as he was a picky eater. You could almost be offended that he looks so beautiful stirring sauce.

Every so often he’d pause, look at you, and give a small reassuring smile. It made you feel lighter. As if he was telling you everything was going to be okay. 

You sidled up next to him to sauté the vegetables and Satoru turned the heat for curry to low, letting it shimmer. He comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, and rests his chin on your shoulder. His arms make you feel secure and stable. 

“This just feels right,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss against your cheek, urging you to lean back in his embrace. You do so willingly, letting yourself sink into the warmth and comfort he offered. 

“It does,” you agreed. He was right. 

It felt like coming home after a long shift, feet aching and joints creaking and climbing into a warm bath that soothes your aches and pains. Like the sudden realization of happiness, that everything was going to be okay. Like driving down the road in the summer, the windows down as the sun starts to set, music blaring on the radio, and everyone singing along. There was no awkward moment of overthinking how things were or would be, but just living in the moment and accepting things as they came to you overthinking and drowning in your thoughts. 

You could sit here and stress about what you’ve done, why you’ve done it, and how that would change the future. Spiral into a mess of anxiety and regret. Or you could live in the moment.

Let go of the need for control that you so desperately craved, and ran after. And just let yourself float. Let yourself be cared for this time.

Wrapped up in Satoru, with him placing soft kisses on your neck, neither of you noticed the door quietly closing. You didn’t hear Sugur slide off his shoes, exchanging them for house slippers, or as he padded into the kitchen. He stood there, watching on for a moment. Seeing how entangled the two of you were, the way you filled How Satoru placed small kisses to your neck that made you giggle. How the two of you blended together.

You had always brought out the best in Satoru, parts of him that would go head to head with Suguru’s own stubborn nature. Always bring out the best in him too.

“What happened while I was at work today?” his voice made you jump, breaking through the moment, and making you drop the spatula from your hand. It clattered against the counter.

“Hey Suguru,” your voice was soft, warm as if the sound of it could pull him into the comfort as well. 

Satoru let go of your waist and turned to face Suguru, smiling widely as he saw him. “Welcome home.”

There’s something in Satoru’s casual nature, how he said it like nothing changed between you all. 

The three of you stood there for a long moment, still, silent. Painful longing, the desire to have always had things be so straightforward between the three of you. You felt frozen, unsure how to act, unsure what he was feeling. The curry simmering on the stove was the only noise in the room. 

And then, Suguru’s face crumpled, and tears began to spill from his eyes. Satoru rushed to his side first, with you not far behind him, wrapping his arms around him. 

Suguru’s shoulders shook with the force of his sobs as the two of you wrapped around him, sandwiching him in the space between your bodies. You were only a step behind, your own arms reaching around him. 

“We’re here Suguru,” Satoru expressed “We’re right here.”

Suguru buried his face in Satoru’s shoulder, his hand clutching the front of your shirt as if he was afraid to let go.

“I was so scared” he choked out between sobs. “Fuck, I was so scared.”

You gently stroke Suguru’s back, your own tears wetting his shirt, your cheek pressed to his shoulder “I’m sorry.” The apology felt like too little, both right and wrong. 

“I thought I was going to lose you both.” his voice cracks on the confession. 

“You’re not going to lose us,” Satoru reassures him, kissing his forehead. “ We’re not going anywhere.”

The three of you stayed like that for a moment, all wrapped in each other’s arms. Letting the emotions, the tension, and the resolution wash over. Eventually, the tears started to subside and the three of you agreed to talk after eating and somehow things felt normal again. You all fall into the rhythm you’ve followed for years. Suguru talks about his projects while Satoru talks about an upcoming campaign. 

They’re still as careful as they’d normally be when it comes to talking about your affairs. But they pushed more to know how your art was going. Since you’ve been unemployed it's been something you’ve been working more on.

It should be strange, you thought, that there is no overwhelming pressure between the three of you. If anything this is the lightest your friendships have felt in years. Maybe things really were always meant to work out this way. Shoko used to say the only person who could stand to be with the two of them, even platonically for long stretches, was yourself. That you just seamlessly fit them. 

“I just… I don’t want to feel like a secondary attachment to the both of you.” you’re holding a mug filled with hot green tea, watching the steam rise from it. Dinner’s long since been finished but you’re all still around the table. 

Satoru doesn’t hesitate. “Why would you be one? You’ve never been one before.” His voice is as casual as ever, but there’s a firm undercurrent. As if his word is law. 

Before you can protest, Suguru chimes in. “He’s right. It’s always been the three of us.” 

“I feel like one.” you shift in your seat awkwardly, insecurities prickling your skin. 

“The person who could be between us is you.” Suguru doesn’t miss a beat. There’s no room for doubt with the way he says it. It’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

You let out a small, nervous laugh. “I don’t want to fuck this up. You guys have been together for years… you’re literally engaged.” 

Satoru delicately grabs your hand, the engagement ring cool against your skin. “There’s no fucking this up.” He looks to Suguru to add on. 

“I’m more worried I’ll fuck it up given my track record so far.” Self-deprecation laces his tone, but there’s sincerity there too. “But we’ll figure it out. Take it slow.” 

You smile a little at that. The nerves won't go away anytime soon, they churn in your stomach. Hearing both of them say it, both of them so willing to figure out the absolute mess you’ve found yourselves in together, made it a bit easier to breathe. 

“Sure. That sounds good.”

───※ ·❆· ※───

A month passes by. Leaves change, and the winds get colder, but you’re filled with a warm sappy feeling. Like syrup in your veins it runs thick and sticky. But at the same time, it’s as if nothing changes. There’s no dramatic queue that signals you all to change your actions. Yet somehow, somewhere, things snap into place violently. Colliding with each other like asteroids, you wake up and feel it in your bones. 

It feels like either man’s lips were destined to crash into the mantle of your skin every minute of the day. 

Both were so hesitant at the start, afraid to scare you off like wild fauna. Afraid to delve into too deep of waters too early into something so fragile. They treated it like Tiffany blow glass. You were held so tightly by them. Seen so wholly. 

Satoru had been the most overt with his physical affection. It was easy for him to pull you into his lap while you watched TV, his solid chest behind you. He tucked you into the nooks and crannies of his body, affection spilling out of him both verbal and nonverbal.

But it had really been Suguru who changed the most. 

Tender love in his every action, every press of his skin against yours. A guiding hand on your lower back. Adjusting your shirts and sweaters. Standing on your left when you were standing for a long period, remembering your previous knee injury, so you could lean on him. 

Both of them soothed you in ways you didn’t know you needed soothing before. Neither one moved in particularly new ways, sans the making out and heavy petting, but not you could recognize the true driving emotion behind them. 

It wasn’t Satoru bringing your coffee order in the morning because he was on that side of town for a meeting with a client. His client was on the other side of town, but he had seen you frown at something so minor, so miniscule, that morning he trekked across Tokyo to go to your favorite place. 

To be loved is to be known, but to be known so loudly, so intimately, made you feel vulnerable in a way. But there is certainty in it too. That this was the way things were always meant to be between the three of you but by circumstance, it only happened now. 

So you found yourself in Satoru’s lap again, some cheesy early 2000s romcom on the TV in their bedroom. You had taken to watching movies in there due to their super king bed giving you room to spread out that the couch couldn’t. Sugaru was next to the both of you, arm around Satoru’s shoulder. He’s got some braids in between his fingers spinning it round his flesh. 

None of you have anything on the agenda tomorrow, other than meeting up with your group of friends in the early evening. 

Satoru has slumped over as the movies went on, his chest pressed against your back. Hot breath hits your neck every time he exhales, sending a constant chill down your spine. You’re not even sure what the last 20 minutes of the movie have been about, too distracted by the growing warmth in your core. 

You shift as Satoru exhales again when you feel it. He’s incredibly hard right now. His erection slides against the swell of your ass. 

The three of you haven’t been intimate, something you insisted on, and now a month’s worth of pent-up sexual need has come back into full focus. 

Satoru drops his head. Nose pressed against the skin of your neck, he wraps his around around your waist. One of his hands sits splayed on your ribcage, right under your breast. You’ve never been more aware of your lack of a bra at home than now.  His thumb moves and you stiffen. 

He pauses for a millisecond before kissing your neck. The heat pooling in your stomach grows hotter. You’re so on edge that when he bites into your skin, the moan you let out startles you, your head falling to the side. Suguru catches your gaze, his eyes low, heavy with desire. There’s a rush of adrenaline that courses through you, no doubt dissimilar to what a prey animal feels when it's hunted.

Satoru’s teeth graze your skin, leaving a trail of darkening marks as he went. His hands move up to your breasts. He’s gentle, at first, squeezing them, testing the weight in his palms, before he pinches at your nipples. Gasping, your hips jut forward as if to grind against something. 

Suguru stalks over, sliding over the bed, to sit right in front of the both of you. He looks down at your shirt, a large oversized graphic t-shirt that once belonged to him. Sees how the fabric bunches around his finger. 

His eyes dart back up to yours, an eyebrow raised. “May I?” he questions about removing your shit. 

You nod, leaning back further against Satoru as Suguru slides your shirt off. Satoru’s hands pulled away for him to do so, but once your shirt was removed they were right back on your chest, tweaking your nipples again. Suguru leans back and just watches. 

One of Satoru’s hands leaves your chest and moves down to your thighs. They roam over the fat of them. You lift your hips and he pulls at your shorts, unable to get them off with just one hand. Luckily Suguru is there to help, and they get them off. The cheeky cut panties you've been wearing feel nonexistent as he brushes your clit through them. 

“Fuck,” Satoru groans, grinding his hips against your ass, “you’re so perfect.” 

The praise goes straight to your head. 

He lifts his head out of your neck to look at Suguru. “Aren’t they perfect?” 

“You should see how they taste.” Suguru purrs, palming himself through his sweat. 

Satoru nips your neck again. “What do ya say, sweetheart? Can I eat you out?” 

“Oh god, yes,” you’re practically melting into his arms now, limp and pliable. 

The two of them move you around and get you on your back in the center of the bed. They treat you like you’re a porcelain doll. Theirs to play with but gently. Satoru tugs at your panties, pulling them off of you in one clean go. Suguru places a hand on your knee, coaxing your legs open. 

Satoru draws a short breath, seeing you fully exposed, and moans. 

“Can’t believe you’ve had this the whole time and never shared with me.” He bends down, parts your lips with two fingers, a licks a long stripe up your core. His eyes flutter closed as he does. “Perfect fucking pussy.” 

Satoru doesn’t eat pussy, he devours it. 

Consumes you like it's the first meal he’s had after a month of starvation. Like you’re the finest delicacy he’s ever had. Something meant to be tasted fully and savored. It makes you dizzy with how much earnest desire, and love, are in his every movement. Every swipe of his tongue against your clit an ‘I love you.’ 

The pleasure gets to your head quick. Being this loved makes your skin flush and thoughts muddy. You reach out the hold Suguru’s hand. His fingers entangle with yours for a brief moment before he lets go and touches your jaw. 

He taps your cheek. “Open.”

You open your mouth and his fingers push into it. He pinches your tongue between his fingers, pulling it out. The pink muscle is pliant under his touch, following his guidance religiously. “Fucking Christ you’re perfect.” He slides his fingers back into your mouth. “Suck.” 

Following a command has never come easier. You suck on his fingers like they're a lollipop, rolling them between your tongue. He pushes them further down, nearly to the back of your throat. It almost makes you gag but you force yourself not to. 

At the same time, Satoru picks up speed. His tongue flicking your clit back and forth rapidly. He eases a finger inside you, crooking it up as he pumps in and out. Shockwaves of pure ecstasy go out across your whole nervous system. Right before you cum Satoru pulls away, taking you right off the edge. 

“Why?” you whine, panting. It’s muffled from Suguru’s fingers in your mouth. There’s a haze in your eyes. 

“I want to try something,” He scoots to the side. “Suguru come here.” Satoru gestures towards you splayed out pussy.

Suguru removed his fingers and shuffled down to match Satoru’s posture. “You dirty dog.” 

“Don’t tell me you weren’t thinking of it.” 

“You know me well,” Suguru laughs, kissing Satoru softly.

You’re about to ask what they are talking about before both of them lower their heads and make contact. Both of them are eating you out, tongues working in tandem. You aren’t sure if they're making out with each other or your pussy.

“Oh god,” you choke out. 

Satoru moans loudly, the vibration overwhelming, his tongue meeting Suguru’s over your clit. They battle for dominance, bumping and nudging your clit as they do.

Suguru pulls away for a brief moment, climbing over Satoru to reach into the nightstand and pull out a bottle of lube. He moves so quickly, flipping the cap open, and squeezing some out onto his fingers. Once he’s satisfied with the amount, he goes back to the messy make-out session on your clit. But this time you feel him toy with the opening of your asshole as Satoru inserts his fingers back into your pussy.

The combination of both of their mouths and fingers makes you cum. Your body goes limp but they don't stop. Suguru pulls back from your pussy, inserting another finger into your asshole, stretching it open. 

Satoru hungrily takes over your clit, sucking it harshly. The overstimulation is too much, too little time between your first orgasm, too much pressure as Satoru presses down on your lower abdomen that before you can even recoup you’re cumming again. This time squirting over the both of them, liquid gushing out of you, with a pathetic whine. 

Satoru pulls back from your pussy, face glistening. “Didn’t know you could do that.”

Both of them stare at you with wicked grins. 

“Stop,” you shyly try and cover your face with your arms. “Don’t stare at me like that.” 

Suguru thrusts his fingers in your asshole again. “You make it hard not to stare. Don’t they.” 

Satoru’s gaze is heavy on you. He’s always had such an intense stare but it makes you squirm so much more now in your naked state. It piercing. He licks his lips before speaking. “I feel like we should lock you away so no one else can ever look at you.”

“Be normal and say I love you.” Suguru nudges him with his shoulder. 

“I love you, oh god I fucking love you.” Satoru kisses your inner thigh. “I love you so much. Please let us fuck you? Please?”

“I love you too.” 

He bites down hard enough there’s sure to be a mark there tomorrow. “Don’t make me wear a condom, please? I’m clean, he’s clean.” 

“Satoru I’m not on birth control.” 

Where you thought it’d heed caution from him, it only serves to amp him up. He moves down and kisses your clit. “If you get pregnant I’ll take care of you, please. I want to feel all of you.”

Suguru smacks the back of his head. “Don’t you mean we’ll take care of them?” He pulled him back by his hair. “Stop pressuring them.” 

You giggle a bit at that. “It’s a safe day so just… pull out?” 

The offer makes Satoru lunge forward and lift you up. He lays down on his back under you, your legs spread around his middle, his feet on the ground. His public area is clear and recently waxed, so you just meet skin, and erection standing straight up in front of you. It gently smacks against your stomach as you settle into position. 

There’s never been a doubt in your mind that Satoru was strong. You’ve seen him shirtless so many times, you know the panes of his muscles by heart. But it's a different thing to feel that strength. 

Satoru moves you like there is no weight to you. He lifts your hips up, positioning your core just over his erection. It’s Suguru who reaches between you two to properly align your hole with his cock. The way they already work as a team when it came to fucking you should scare you. You know how they are. The next time the three of you fuck, there’s no telling what they’ll do. 

Satoru lowers you down on his length. You’re so loose and wet from coming twice in short succession that you’re able to fit his entire length with no discomfort in one smooth, fluid motion. He’s girthy regardless, so when he pulls you up and drops you down again, it feels like your breath gets squeezed out of your lungs. 

“Oh my god,” you fall forward on his chest as he does it again. 

Satoru raises your hips, holding you above himself, and gives a few slow, experimental thrusts up into you. His mouth meets yours in a messy kiss as you jostle with each thrust. 

Suguru sidles up behind the two of you, more lube on his fingers. He circles the rim of your asshole, dipping them in and scissoring it. “You gonna let me fuck you too? Or do you want me to wait my turn?” 

You are, by nature, incredibly greedy when it comes to them. How could you not be? 

Looking over your shoulder, you speak. “Please. I want to feel you both.”

“So fucking sexy,” Suguru groans, pulling his fingers out and lining up his cock. “Can’t believe we let you date that loser. Should have been here between us the whole time.” 

Sure, you’d have fingers in your asshole before, but Suguru’s dick was longer and thicker. The whine is instinctive as he stretches you open. Once he’s fully inside and gives a gentle thrust, it’s then you realize that you can feel them almost rubbing against each other. 

Oh. 

You could never go back now. 

It feels so good. 

You’re close to cumming again and they’ve barely done anything other than interest themselves inside you.

Suguru’s hands grab hold of your hips, holding you still, switching places with Satoru who holds your face. His white hairs is stuck to his forehead with sweat as beams up at you. “Tell me you’re sorry for dating Haruki.”

“I’m sorry.” You try to move your hips, to gain any sort of friction but Suguru holds you still. 

“Tell me you’re never going to leave us.” 

You try to move again. Any movement is again stopped by Suguru who in turn smacks your ass. 

“Listen to him.” 

Satoru squeezes your cheeks. “Promise me. Promise me and we’ll fuck you until you pass out, okay?” 

“I promise, I’ll never leave you.” 

“That’s my girl.” 

It must have been something they discussed before because the moment Satoru gives the go-ahead, they set a pace so clearly set on breaking you apart and building you back up in the shape of them. 

Both of them give full, long strokes. They move like a well-oiled machine, fucking you like they were designed to do so. Suguru circles an arm around your waist and lifts your back to be flush against his chest, one of your breasts in his hand. He bites and sucks on your neck while playing with your nipples. 

They fill you to the fucking brim. It’s nearly indescribable, the electric sensation coursing through your body.  The feeling is almost like a live current running through you that short-circuits your brain. Perhaps if you were more cognisant of it you’d be embarrassed of the noises you were making. All breathe whimpers and moans filling the room with the sinful slap of flesh. 

With his hands-free, Satoru begins circling your clit with his thumb. The orgasm that has been steadily building growing closer and closer.

“Can feel you getting tighter,” Suguru growls in your ear. “You like it, huh? Like having us both inside you.” 

Be it his possessive tone or words, it makes you tighten up even more.

Satoru picks up his pace toying with your clit. “You like it when he talks to you like that don’t you gorgeous.” 

Your pussy flutters at the praise. 

“You feel that Suguru?” 

“Yeah, I did.” 

“You’re close aren’t you?” 

It’s on the repetition of the question that you realize it is directed towards you. 

Satoru pulls you down towards him, your chests pressed tightly together. Suguru takes advantage of the new angle, propping a foot up on the bed to fuck you even deeper. Your eyelids flutter closed and you whine into Satoru. 

“I’m gonna cum.” you barely mutter. 

“Cum for us.” 

There’s an uncertainty about which one of them said it. Perhaps it was both of them, you aren’t certain as you clamp down on them, body stiff, and cum like you’ve never cum before. They don’t cease their movements, fucking you through it, moving in perfect synch. Your whole body shakes, heat flashing through your veins. The world starts spinning twice as fast.

“That’s it. You’re so pretty with that fucked out look on your face.” Satoru starts.

Suguru snaps his hips forward, sliding you against Satoru while he speaks. “Knew you’d let us fuck you like this.” 

“Should use a vibrator next time. I want to see ��em cum even more.” 

“We can’t break ‘em Satoru. Don’t you know how to take care of your toys?” 

“You’re so rude. They can hear you, can’t you baby?”

You can’t even hold your head up, so Satoru does it for you. Holding your head steady as it nearly lulls to the side. 

“You can hear him can’t you baby?” 

Your tongue feels like lead, it’s a struggle to speak. “I’m not- oh fuck - I’m not a toy.” 

They keep fucking you, spreading you open further. Everything goes fuzzy around the edges in your blissed-out state. Every brush of their hands on your skin makes another ripple of your orgasm pass. You lose sight of where they end and you begin. Satoru gently lets your cheek rest on his chest. 

“Bet your throat feels just as good.” Satoru kisses the top of your head

.

“He should try your asshole next.”  

“I don’t know Suguru, this pussy,” Satoru’s breath is labored. “Feels fucking amazing.”

“Next round we switch.”

Satoru grabs your face again. “He’s never fucked a pussy before. You’re gonna make it so he never wants to fuck another one, aren’t you?” His brow draws knitted. “Clamping down on me like that. I love you so much.”

He kisses you again, whining into it. His thrusts grow sloppy and uncoordinated. 

You pull back from the kiss, slightly more coherent. “Cum inside me please, I need to feel it.”

Satoru groans and increases his thrusts. “You’re killing me baby.”

 He gives four more before hot spend fills you up. You can feel him pulsing inside you. He cums for what feels like a minute, spurts of cum spilling out of you before he pulls out and smears it all over your pussy. 

With Satoru no longer inside you Suguru lifts you up to fuck you doggy style, your face nearly shoved in Sayorufs crotch. “Clean him up.”

Suguru starts a punishing pace, stretching your asshole further. His balls slap against your sensitive clit. You’re at a point where you don’t think you can cum anymore, but there’s whispers of an orgasm. You chose not to focus on that and instead on Satoru. 

For being your best friend only a month ago, there’s no hesitation in these more than platonic actions he takes now. He taps his half-hard dick against your cheek, spreading cum over your cheek and lips. You open your mouth, and yak kitten licks at his length. His spend is salty on your tongue. 

Suguru groans from behind you, gripping your hips tighter as he chases his own high. It doesn’t take much more for him to cum as well with nearly a growl. He hunches over you, extenuating the curve of your spine before he pulls out. 

There’s the telltale feeling of some of his cum leaking out your asshole and dribbling down your pussy. Suguru scoops a mix of his and Satoru’s cum up and pushes it inside you. He makes sure to hit your G-spot as he does. 

Exhaustion settles in your every fiber of being. Never have you been fucked so thoroughly. Made to feel so good. 

Yawning, you try and stand up off the bed to go pee, but your knees buckle under you. You would have hit the cool hardwood flooring if it wasn’t for both men reaching out to grab you. 

“My legs feel like jelly.” 

Suguru smiles, feline as ever. “Can’t have you getting hurt after only round one.” 

You straighten up. “Round one?” 

“Don’t tell me you thought it’d end there?” Satoru chuckles.

───※ ·❆· ※───

The wood stood you normally perched on hurt like a bitch. Your entire lower half was sore and the lack of cushioning really was not helping. Satoru and Suguru had made good on their promise to fuck you until you passed out. They were “making up for lost time” if you asked them. But if someone asked you, your answer would be they were just freaks. Not that you minded. Clearly not given the array of marks over your neck, chest, and thighs all covered up by a turtle neck and long pants. Satoru really was a biter. 

“I’m glad you made it this time Kento.” Utahime giggles, already tipsy from the one beer she's had. She’s leaning on Shoko’s arm, clinging around it. 

Nanami is sat up straight across from her, politely sipping his beer. “Yes. My apologies for missing the last one. Tax season has me rather busy.” 

Shoko laughs. “Don’t bullshit us, you just can't stand getting with us more than once every two months.” 

He sighs. “Surprisingly I do actually enjoy your company. Even if you do annoy me.” 

“Whoa! Kento don’t get soft on us.” Satoru claps him on the back. “Next think you know you’re going to tell us about your love life.” 

“There is hardly anything happening in that department.” He eyes you, Suguru, and Satoru. “But I see that some of us have had some changes. When did the three of you get together?” 

“WHAT?!” Utahime’s scream is shrill and she points a finger at you and the boys. “You guys are all fucking? I thought you guys were just all best friends” 

Shoko shushes her, kissing the top of her head.  “Baby, c’mon you didn’t realize the sexual tension oozing out of the tree of them the last time we saw them?” 

“No,” she whines, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “No one tells me anything.” 

©️ uzuzrimisery

do not copy, edit, translate, or repost my work on any platform

[tacobacoyeet]

PATRICK X READER

So basically after the match with art Patrick gets back on the road and his car breaks down in this town in upstate New York, and it’s like a cute suburban summery Springey town where everyone knows eachother and reader is walking down the street and sees this and goes to ask what’s wrong and he explains and they walk together to the mechanic and the reader explains what’s happening to the mechanic and the mechanic of course knows her TRUST THE PROCESS and he says he’ll fix his car if he comes everyday and helps with cleaning the cars cause I guess he needs a guy for that and he said he can sleep on the couch in the staff room and then he’s there for a few days and reader keeps coming back to check on him and they get well acquainted and stuff and even after his car is fixed he sticks around the town because he actually knows quite a few people now since his stay but him and reader are always flirting and giggling and ugh just fluff fluff fluff and they get together and Patrick gets his life together and stuff and they’re just idiots in love and then he gets a stable job and real friends and they get a cute apartment together and and he proposes with a real ring cause he saved up from his real job and tennis just becomes a hobby and they all live happily ever after pls I need this the birds are chirping I need a romcom

sun on the sidewalk | patrick zweig x reader

a/n: i'm gonna throw up this is so cute. thank you for the beautiful request. i feel like i just wrote the prequel to slow, sunday morning. patrick zweig you deserve every possible joy

warnings: honestly nothing other than my usual inability to proofread

It starts with smoke. And heat. And the unmistakable sound of something giving up.

Patrick grips the steering wheel a little harder, like force alone will stop the sputtering. Like glaring at the dashboard will reverse whatever's going wrong. It doesn’t.

He eases the car off the side of the road, gravel crunching beneath tires that can’t be bothered to behave anymore. The engine coughs once, then twice, then dies.

Silence.

He swears under his breath, leans his forehead against the wheel, and exhales through his nose. It’s hot. The kind of sticky, back-of-the-neck spring heat that pretends to be gentle but leaves you sweating through your shirt anyway.

He’s in the middle of nowhere. The GPS stopped working twenty minutes ago. His phone is on one bar. There are wildflowers in the ditch and a hand-painted sign about a pie sale nailed to a telephone pole.

This is hell.

Or somewhere vaguely prettier than hell, which somehow makes it worse.

And then, as if things couldn't get more disgustingly warm, someone speaks.

“Everything okay there?”

A voice. Not in his head. Not a hallucination. Real. Bright. Curious.

He looks up and sees you.

You’re walking down the sidewalk like you don’t know how to rush. Like the whole street’s moving at your pace. The sun clings to you like it’s trying to impress you, catching in your hair and kissing each individual pore on your face. You’re holding an iced coffee and wearing sneakers that have definitely seen better days—scuffed white with a hopeful pink lace swapped in on one side—and there’s a ribbon tied around your ponytail like it’s still 2003, like nostalgia’s just part of your outfit.

He blinks.

You blink back.

He says nothing.

You smile. “You’re not from here, are you? What's your name?”

And just like that, it begins.

“I’m gonna guess that car isn’t supposed to be making those noises,” you add, nodding toward the still-smoking hood.

He slides out of the driver’s seat and shuts the door behind him, a little too hard. “Thanks. Didn’t notice.”

You raise your eyebrows, but your smile doesn’t falter. “So that’s a no on everything being okay?”

He runs a hand through his hair, already regretting talking to a stranger in what appears to be the real-life set of a Hallmark movie. “It died. Or passed out. Or decided it hates me. Take your pick.”

You laugh. “That’s the spirit.”

There’s a pause. A beat too long.

“You want me to call someone?” you ask. “There’s a mechanic two blocks over—Greg. He’s usually booked solid unless you bribe him with cinnamon rolls or threaten him.”

Patrick looks at his phone, like it might save him. It doesn’t. No signal. No apps loading. A single bar that blinks like it’s mocking him.

You tilt your head. “You could also come with me? It’s not far. I’ll even throw in a free tour of Main Street, population: cozy.”

He exhales slowly, like it pains him to say, “Fine. Lead the way.”

You set off without hesitation, and he falls into step beside you. The sidewalk is warm beneath his shoes, dappled with light slipping through the trees overhead. A flag flaps lazily in the breeze outside the post office, and somewhere nearby, wind chimes tangle with the distant sound of laughter. The whole street smells faintly of lavender and fresh-cut grass, like someone pressed summer into the cracks between the bricks. You wave at two people in the span of a block. One of them hands you a paper bag with a scone in it. You hand it to Patrick.

He frowns. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“I know,” you say, grinning. “But you clearly need it.”

He doesn’t thank you. But he eats it anyway.

“Patrick,” he mutters after a minute.

“Hm?”

“My name. You asked earlier.”

“Oh.” You glance at him, the smile in your voice again. “Hi, Patrick. I’m the girl who’s going to save you from your terrible luck and overheated death trap of a car.”

He doesn’t say it, but your laugh lingers in the air a little too long. There’s a question tucked somewhere in the corner of your mouth when you look at him—like you’re waiting to see if he’ll let it bloom. And for the first time that day, he doesn’t hate where he's ended up.

---

The mechanic’s shop is the kind of place that smells like gasoline and pine-scented air fresheners, with an old bell that jingles when you walk through the door and a dusty fan that spins slow in the corner like it has nowhere else to be. The air inside is thick with heat and old stories. It’s sickeningly warm in the way only small-town spaces can be—like a hug you didn’t ask for. There’s something about it that makes Patrick feel exposed, like the walls are watching to see if he’ll flinch first. The windows are streaked with handprints and the walls are papered with calendars from ten years ago.

Greg is leaning over a car when you step inside. He’s older, broad shouldered, with a beard that’s more salt than pepper and a red rag slung over his shoulder. He glances up, wipes his hands, and grins when he sees you.

“Well hey, sunshine. Who’s the stray?”

You gesture to Patrick. “Broken car. Bad mood. Might bite.”

Greg chuckles. “Sounds like my kind of project.”

Patrick looks deeply unimpressed.

You roll your eyes and explain the situation. “His car’s smoking and dead on Elm. I figured you’d know what to do.”

Greg gives a long whistle. “Haven’t had time to breathe all week. Got too many in the bay as it is. But... I could use someone to hose down the mud off the SUVs and wipe out the inside of that disaster over there.” He jerks a thumb toward a battered Ford Explorer with its doors wide open and a mysterious smell floating out.

Patrick raises a brow. “You want me to clean cars?”

Greg shrugs. “You want your ride fixed? I’ll do it, no charge. But you show up every day until it’s done and put those arms to use.”

You glance at Patrick. He’s clearly calculating just how much he hates this.

Greg adds, “I got a couch in the break room if you need a place to crash. It’s not a hotel, but it’s better than the pavement.”

Patrick opens his mouth, probably to say no. But you beat him to it.

“Sounds like a deal to me,” you say. “Right, Patrick?”

He gives you a look like he’s rethinking every life choice that led him here. Then sighs.

“Fine.”

Greg grins. “Great. You start tomorrow. Try not to scare the customers.”

The next morning, Patrick wakes to the sound of someone slamming a toolbox shut and the smell of burnt coffee strong enough to peel paint.

The break room is dim and a little too warm. He sits up on the couch—a sagging old thing that creaks like it’s judging him—and rubs the back of his neck. His shoulder aches. His back’s worse. He’s slept on worse floors, but not recently.

Greg’s already in the shop when Patrick trudges out, holding a mug the color of regret. The mechanic nods at him without looking up.

“Mop’s in the corner. Hose is out back. Explorer’s still waiting on its last rites.”

Patrick grunts something vaguely human and gets to work.

It’s not glamorous. Not even close. The Explorer smells like stale gym socks and a half-eaten burrito. He spends twenty minutes just trying to scrape melted gum off the passenger-side floor mat. The sun is already high, and by noon, his shirt’s stuck to his back, his hair’s damp, and he’s seriously considering setting the car on fire instead of finishing it.

That’s when you show up.

“Wow,” you say, leaning against the doorway with a grin. “You look like you’re having the time of your life.”

He glares. “I think I have tetanus now.”

You toss him a water bottle. “Greg says you haven’t taken a break.”

“Didn’t know I could.”

“Well, lucky for you, I’m here to supervise your union-mandated lunch hour.”

You hold up a brown paper bag like it’s a peace offering.

He eyes it warily. “What is that?”

“Sandwich. Chips. Cookie. A little townie affection.”

“Is it poisoned?”

You smirk. “Not unless you count the gluten.”

He takes it. Sits on the curb out front while you plop down beside him.

For a minute, there’s only the sound of cars passing by, birds overhead, the soft crinkle of wax paper.

Then—

“You’re not what I expected,” he says suddenly.

You glance at him. “Good unexpected or bad unexpected?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just takes another bite, chews, swallows.

You lean back on your hands, looking up at the sky like it’s something worth admiring. “Well, I’ll try not to be too devastating if I end up on the bad side.”

He huffs a soft laugh through his nose. The first real one.

The rest of the afternoon is more of the same: buckets of soapy water, a streaky squeegee, and Greg barking instructions from across the shop while a local radio station plays somewhere in the background—oldies, but not golden. Patrick doesn’t complain. Not out loud, anyway.

You hover for a while, chatting with Greg, sneaking Patrick another water bottle, watching him like he’s some strange little animal who might dart off if you get too close. He doesn’t.

When the sun starts to slant low, and the shop begins to quiet, you offer him a ride to the convenience store around the corner. “Unless you want another dinner of vending machine chips and passive-aggressive Post-Its on the fridge.”

He considers. Nods.

At the store, you make fun of his choice in granola bars. He mocks your obsession with lemon-flavored everything. The cashier knows you by name and throws a piece of gum onto the counter with a wink. Patrick doesn’t ask. You don’t explain.

On the walk back, the air cools just enough to make you both shiver, and he doesn’t pull away when your arms brush.

Not that night.

Not anymore.

The next few days pass in a rhythm Patrick never meant to find. It creeps in soft as dust, folding into the cracks he didn’t know were open—morning creaks from the break room pipes, the scent of soap and motor oil, your voice humming some half-remembered tune from a decade ago. It's not just routine. It's a lullaby he never asked for, and now can't shake.

Wake up. Scrub something. Fix something. Swear under his breath. Try not to throw a wrench at Greg. Eat the sandwiches you keep bringing him—different every day, but always wrapped in a wax paper and a paper towel with a stupid doodle on it. A sun with sunglasses. A smiley face wearing a mechanic's cap. Once, a cartoon version of him with a speech bubble that said: "I clean cars now."

He scowled when he saw it. But he didn’t throw it away.

Some afternoons, you stay. Sit on the same patch of curb. Talk about nothing. Or everything. It depends on the day. He learns you work at the local bookstore part-time. That you love bad movies and name all your houseplants. That you’ve never left this town for more than a week, and yet you don’t seem afraid of the world at all.

And people know him now. That’s the strange part.

Mrs. Keller from the bakery waves to him when he walks by. A middle schooler on a bike nods at him like he’s a regular. The postman calls him “mechanic lite.”

He doesn’t correct them. Not anymore.

And you?

You still show up every day. Sometimes you bring lemonade. Sometimes a new playlist. Sometimes nothing but yourself, hair pulled back and a little wilted from the heat, smile soft like you’re surprised he’s still here. Sometimes, your hand drifts to the hem of your shirt when you talk to him—fidgeting, like there’s something you’re trying not to say. Once, he thinks he catches you watching him when you think he’s not looking. You turn away too fast. He pretends not to notice.

So is he.

---

It happens on a Wednesday.

He’s elbow-deep in soap suds and old pollen, wiping down the side of a dented minivan while humming to whatever’s playing on the radio—something embarrassingly catchy. You’re sitting cross-legged on the curb, sipping peach tea and sketching something in the margins of a receipt.

“Am I allowed to ask what you’re drawing,” he calls without looking over, “or is it another deeply unflattering portrait of me?”

You grin without missing a beat. “That depends. Are you still pretending you’re not flattered by the attention?”

He glances at you then, one eyebrow raised, water dripping down his forearm. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” you say, “you haven’t run.”

That makes him pause. Just long enough.

You stand up and dust off your legs, walking toward him like you’ve got all the time in the world. “I made another playlist for you, by the way,” you say casually. “All songs about emotionally unavailable men who fall for girls with soft voices and good intentions.”

Patrick snorts. “Sounds fictional.”

You shrug. “Guess we’ll see.”

He doesn’t say anything right away. Just watches you, the tilt of your mouth, the gleam of challenge behind your eyes.

And for the first time, he lets himself wonder what would happen if he kissed you. If you’d taste like peach tea and summer sun. If your hand would curl into his shirt or if you’d laugh against his mouth and ruin him for good. The thought roots itself somewhere between his ribs and doesn’t leave for the rest of the day.

You don’t kiss. Not yet. But the air between you shifts—subtle and sudden all at once. Like a door cracked open. Like the sun peeking out after too many cloudy days.

It’s just a look.

---

The days keep stretching, warm and gentle and impossible to hate. Even the work seems lighter now, even when it’s still miserable. Patrick keeps showing up. Keeps pretending it’s just because of the deal, the couch, the lack of other options.

But everyone can tell it’s not that.

Greg starts making jokes. Little ones. "Don’t forget your fan club," when he spots you walking down the sidewalk. Patrick rolls his eyes. Doesn’t argue.

One evening, you walk him back to the shop after grabbing iced coffees. The air’s thick with honeysuckle and soft light. He says something dry. You laugh too hard. He doesn’t mean to, but he smiles, big and full and real.

You notice. You always do.

“I knew there was a human under there somewhere,” you tease.

He shrugs. “You caught me on a good day.”

“Lucky me.”

There’s a moment. Small. Private. Nothing happens, but it feels like something almost does.

You step closer just to bump your shoulder into his, and he bumps you back without thinking.

Neither of you says anything about it.

The next morning, you bring him coffee without asking. His order is perfect.

He doesn’t ask how you knew.

He just drinks it.

And smiles.

---

The shift comes in quiet places. A hand brushing his when you pass him a wrench. Your laugh carrying from the break room when you read aloud the horoscopes from the back of the town paper. The way his name sounds coming out of your mouth now—like it belongs there.

One night, it rains. Hard. Sheets of it, loud on the shop roof, steam rising from the pavement like the town is exhaling.

You're there, of course. You always are. Perched on the bench just outside the garage bay with a paper cup of hot chocolate and a flannel too big for your frame.

He joins you without speaking. Just sits beside you, close enough your arms press from shoulder to wrist. You don't move.

For a while, neither of you says anything.

Then, softly: "You know you could leave, right?"

He doesn’t answer right away. Just watches the way the rain runs down the curb.

“I know,” he says eventually. “But I don’t want to.”

You glance at him. “Why not?”

He looks at you, really looks. The soft curve of your mouth. The way your cheeks are pink from the cold. The quiet waiting in your eyes.

And then, finally, finally, he leans in.

Not fast. Not desperate. Just close. Intentional.

Your lips meet like the moment had been sitting there for days, waiting.

And when you smile into it, he kisses you again.

It doesn’t go further. Not yet. Just lips and breath and the gentle press of something blooming too carefully to name. But after, when the rain starts to fade and you’re both sticky with warmth and quiet, he doesn’t pull away.

You rest your head on his shoulder, and he lets you.

Later, back inside the shop, he finds himself folding the blanket on the break room couch like it matters. Like making it neat will make this real.

The next day, he finds a note tucked into the sandwich bag: About time.

It’s not signed. It doesn’t have to be.

You grin when he sees you that afternoon, but there’s a flicker in your eyes—hope curling up under caution, like you’re not sure if the kiss changed everything or nothing at all. And he does something completely reckless: He grins back.

---

The day the car is finally ready, he doesn’t go get it.

Greg tells him that morning, wiping grease off his hands with a rag that used to be white. "She's all set," he says. "Runs better than it has in years."

Patrick nods. Says, "Cool."

Doesn’t move.

Greg raises a brow. "You gonna take it for a spin or just let it sit there looking pretty?"

Patrick shrugs. "Might stick around a little longer."

Greg grins, wide and knowing. "You don’t say."

He wipes his hands on his rag and gives Patrick a long look. “Didn’t think you were the sticking-around type.”

Patrick doesn’t say anything.

Greg just nods, like that’s answer enough. “Good. Kid like you needed somewhere to land.”

That night, he brings in the folding chair from outside the garage and sets it next to you on your usual patch of sidewalk. He’s got a soda this time. You’re already halfway through a milkshake.

He doesn't make a big deal out of it. Doesn’t explain himself. Just sits.

And when you lean over and bump your shoulder into his, he bumps you back.

Then doesn’t move away.

---

Two days later, Greg offers him a real job.

“You’re decent with a wrench,” he says, handing Patrick a new shop shirt with his name embroidered in red thread. “And you haven’t scared off the locals. Figure that qualifies you.”

Patrick stares at the shirt for a long second. The name stitched in red feels louder than it looks. Realer. He brushes his thumb across the thread like it might vanish. And then, something shifts.

Not all at once. Not dramatically. Just a slow release of tension he didn’t know he’d been holding. Like his shoulders drop for the first time in months.

Then he nods. Once.

“Yeah. Okay.”

The next day, he takes a photo of it hanging in the break room and sends it to you with no caption.

You reply: look at you. a real mechanic now.

Three weeks after that, you help him move into a one-bedroom above the diner. It smells like maple syrup and old paint, and the radiator hisses like it’s got opinions, but he doesn’t complain. You hang a string of fairy lights in the window. He lets you.

One night, he looks around the place—at the worn-in couch, your shoes by the door, the mug you keep forgetting on the counter—and realizes it doesn’t feel temporary anymore.

He wakes up early the next morning and takes the longest route to the shop. Just to see the sun hit the street the way it always does.

And he smiles.

He doesn’t tell you he’s been saving. Not at first. Not when it’s new and fragile, this thing between you that feels like light pooling in a place that used to be dark.

But the truth is, he’s been tucking bills into a coffee can hidden under the sink. Folding up twenties like prayers. Every oil change. Every brake pad replacement. Every tip from some guy in a pickup who thinks Patrick’s too pretty to know how to work a socket wrench.

It takes a few months.

But he does it. He finds the ring.

It’s simple. Nothing flashy. Silver band, oval stone, the kind of thing that looks like it was always meant to be on your hand.

He doesn’t plan the moment. Doesn’t want to.

It happens on a slow Sunday morning. You’re still in pajamas, half-asleep, sitting on the floor of the apartment eating cereal out of the box and humming along to a song on the radio.

And Patrick—grease-stained, heart-full, steady for the first time in his life���sits down beside you, pulls the ring out of his pocket, and says:

“I want to stay. For good, this time. And I want to do it with you.”

You blink. Stare at the ring. Then at him.

“Patrick,” you breathe.

“I know. I’m not good at speeches. Or planning. Or, like, living in the world like a normal person. But I love you. I love this. And I’ve never wanted anything more than I want to keep waking up beside you.”

You set the cereal aside. Crawl into his lap. Kiss him like it’s all you’ve ever known.

And say yes.

BONUS SCENE

Years later, the house is white with green shutters and a porch swing that creaks like it remembers every visitor. There’s a dog named Pickles—some kind of lab mix with too much energy and a heroic commitment to stealing socks. The living room smells like lavender and sun-warmed wood, and someone is always barefoot. Someone is always humming. Someone is always in love.

Patrick stands in the kitchen, barefoot and half-awake, flipping pancakes with one hand while balancing a toddler on his hip. The kid’s hair sticks up like a sunflower and his smile is all you. Another one waddles through the room with a juice box clutched in both hands like it’s sacred.

You walk in wrapped in a robe, sleepy and radiant, and kiss Patrick on the cheek like it’s a ritual. Because it is. Because it always has been.

There’s a knock at the door. Patrick calls, “It’s open!” and in come Art and Tashi—matching sunglasses, tote bags of fresh fruit and croissants, and the kind of ease that only comes from showing up for the better part of a decade.

“Brought blueberries,” Tashi says, lifting the bag.

Art lifts his coffee. “And salvation.”

Patrick smirks. “You’re late.”

“You have toddlers,” Art says. “Ten minutes late is practically early.”

The kids squeal when they see them. Pickles lets out one bark and then rolls belly-up. And for the next few hours, it’s coffee and crumbs and the kind of joy that doesn’t need to be loud to be real.

Later, when the house hushes under nap time and the light turns slow and golden across the porch, Patrick leans against the railing, arms folded, watching the breeze chase itself across the grass.

You come up behind him, soft-footed and sure, and wrap your arms around his middle. Rest your cheek between his shoulder blades.

“You stayed,” you whisper, voice akin to the first ray of sun peeking past the clouds in the morning.

He turns, presses his lips to your forehead. Breathes you in.

“Of course I did,” he says. “Where else would the sun hit just right?”

---

tagging: @kimmyneutron @kharwreck @babyspiderling @queensunshinee @hanneh69 @jamespotteraliveversion @glennussy @awaywithtime @artstennisracket @artdonaldsonbabygirl

[velvetvexations]

I don't agree with the notion that Kira's arc in DS9 is about forgiveness of one's oppressors because I think 'forgiveness' is a very specific thing that isn't really what I see depicted in her story. She never absolves the Cardassians for anything. She fights with them against the Dominion, but (A) not wanting them to be genocided isn't the same as forgiveness, (B) Kira just happened to be one of the most important people in the war and she may have been considerably less enthused about fighting for Cardassia if so much of that job did not rest on her shoulders personally, and (C) there's entirely practical reasons for that anyhow given that the Dominion is trying to conquer everyone.

Like, it seems like what people put down as Kira forgiving the Cardassians is managing to see individuals as unworthy of being hate crimed in the streets, which is a fairly low bar. She bonded with Maritza as someone who was also traumatized and desperately trying to heal what had happened but situation was insane for a million reasons and I think it's wrong to simplify it down to her being cool with Cardassians now or deciding that he was innocent because he was just a clerk and felt really bad about it. Like, that was several seasons before she gave a fiery speech about how she didn't care whether an occupier "held a phaser in your hand or you ironed shirts for a living."

If she had really forgiven the Cardassians, if that had been part of her arc, Kira would have been much more contrite to Prin. She would have still justified her actions as necessary, but she would not be nearly as fiercely defiant about it as she was. Kira clearly still carried that anger from growing up knowing nothing but horrific oppression. She's regretful about the comment she makes to Damar later but aside from that also having practical concerns (not wanting to fuck up their extremely tense alliance) the fact that she made it in the first place again shows that it's not something she's let go.

I think DS9 takes a stance on letting hatred fester and curdle in you for your entire life but I don't think that means you have to forgive anyone for anything. It's like Sisko's trauma in the pilot - it's not linear! When things are over you have to pick up the pieces the best you can and move on, for your own sake as much as anyone else's.

[missnovelistic]

What The Heart Wants- Intro

Author: @missnovelistic

Words: 0.5K

Warnings: Teensy bit of angst, our boy Gideon comes in next chapter

Summary: A tragic crash that left a lone survivor of Y/N. A famous actress, tired of having all eyes on her, moves back to Charleston to be with her mother. All she wants is to heal in peace. She soon stumbles across our favorite Gemstone, will peace be all that the heart wants?

Missnovelistic Masterlist

Intro- What The Heart Wants

Early afternoon light poured in through the big bay window. Dust danced in the sun, creating a scene of calm. A fringed pillow sat in her lap, her fingers picked each individual string apart with her eyebrows furrowed and shadows under her eyes. A cast covered one of her arms, covered in little drawings and signatures from friends and costars.

An older gentleman sat across from her, glasses perched on the edge of his nose with an almost comical mustache taking over his entire face. “You’ve been through something life-changing. Surviving that crash… It’s not something you walk away from unchanged.”

A small laugh escapes her mouth. “Yeah, no kidding. Everyone keeps saying I’m lucky, but it doesn’t feel like that.” A sniffle from her before she focuses her gaze on the ceiling, eyes burning.

“What does it feel like?”

She’s quiet for a moment to gather her words. “Heavy.”

The therapist leans back in his chair, giving her time to elaborate.

“Like I’m carrying their lives around with me. My friends… They’re gone. I’m getting booked for films and interviews and red carpets. Like nothing happened. Like I’m... Still her.”

“Her?”

“The version of me who smiled for cameras, gave perfect answers, played perfect roles. She died in that car too.” The weight off her shoulders seems to evaporate at finally voicing the feelings she’d had for the past several weeks. Her shoulders sagged, the realization giving her space to finally breathe. “I want to quit acting. Go back home. Live with my mom. Just… Stop.”

The therapist allows another moment for what she said to sink in before speaking. “That makes a lot of sense. After trauma, it’s normal to want to return to somewhere safe, to someone who feels grounding- Like your mom. It’s a way of trying to find control again.”

Her eyes flicker to the therapist, a little seed of doubt growing in her. “My agent will say I’ll regret it. That I’m throwing everything away. But I’m so tired. I can’t keep pretending. I want quiet. I want to be invisible for a while.”

Her therapist gives a soft smile. Finally, she’s able to open up to him after weeks of going through the motions. He was proud of her. “You’re allowed to want that. You’re allowed to grieve- Not just the people you lost, but the life you had and the version of you who lived it. It’s okay to pause. Healing doesn’t look like a career comeback. Sometimes, it looks like home.”

Tears filled her eyes, and this time she didn’t bother with trying to force them back. “You don’t think I’m being selfish, or stupid?”

Her therapist shook his head, and the smile didn’t leave his face “Not at all. I think you’re being human. And brave- For listening to what your heart needs right now.”

AN: I hope you enjoyed this! Don't worry, Gideon shows up next chapter.

Let me know what you think!

Requests are: Open

MissNovelistic Masterlist

[cosmic-ghost-hermit]

Pick a Card: Who's been thinking about you? Why are you on their mind?

Take what resonates and leave the rest behind, baby. But always be open to new experiences. Decks used are the necronomicon tarot, alchemy oracle, wizard tarot and the crystallary oracle.

🌊Tip your Reader🐋

PILE ONE

Astrology: Taurus, Libra, Leo

Song: Taking What's Not Yours by TV Girl

Vibes: Blue, green, yellow, orange, overactive third eye, prophetic dreams, gold jewelry, masks, vulnerability, candles, 555, 7777, swings, volcano, picture books, Hephaestus, Apollo, Aphrodite

Cards: The Empress, Knowledge, 5 of Pentacles, 10 of Books, Autumn, Mystical Sister, Labradorite, Larimar

Hey, pile 1. I see 2 different people who have been thinking about you. I see one of them used to be your other half. Someone you felt close enough to they felt like family. I think y'all had a falling out of some kind. The second one is someone you only knew briefly. You met them right before they started to know themselves. You weren't destine to really know them and they weren't destine to know you. You may have worked with them or went to school with them. It looks like they have been talking about you to each other. It isn't gossip talk by the way. It seems very positive. They both feel like Leo's by the way. I could also see them as Aquarius's.

The former friend is telling this former acquaintance about you. The friend has needed to talk to someone about what happened between you two. They want to make up with you but are a bit too stubborn and prideful to admit they were wrong about whatever you two were fighting about. They miss you a lot. They think they made a mistake by causing such a fuss about this. They regret the falling out. They saw how gracefully you handled the conflict and they feel pretty guilty about acting so childish.

The former acquaintance is learning so much about you from the former friend. They knew little to nothing about you before they started talking to this person. Before, their view of you was very vague but they loved how you dressed and wanted to emulate their style. They really wanted to know you but were too shy to really ask to hang out or to ask where you got your clothes from. The more they learn about you the more they wished they had taken a chance because even though this ex-friend is the one telling them about you they aren't saying anything bad. They hear the stories of you and I think they feel envious of how close this former friend got to you.

You probably know these two are hanging out now. You don't really care because you have moved on from that part of your life. You would totally be open to forgiving your ex-friend and getting to know your former acquaintance but they won't take the chance. You shouldn't reach out either. They have to be brave enough to seek you out on their own. You are very forgiving and kind. I think the only reason they wont come forward is because of their own insecurities. They don't feel they are worthy of your light. They know you are a strong independent individual and they might not know how to handle how good you are at setting boundaries.

__________

PILE TWO

Astrology: Capricorn, Cancer, Pisces

Song: Welcome to the Family by Watsky

Vibes: White, blue, orange, silver, apples, trees, storms, ex-christian, reflection, boomer, garden, moon cycles, sea gulls, POS, irregular periods, feminine, 222, 4, birds, Demeter, Hera, Persephone, Artemis

Cards: 5 of Cults, Shame and Decay, Growth, Ace of Wands, Tin, Dissolution, Almandine Garnet

Hello, pile 2. There is one person thinking of you. It is a family member. I feel a feminine energy but it could be someone of any gender. I feel that this person believes you inherited your power and your abilities from them. I don't think this is true, this is just a belief of theirs. They have a lot of believes about you that aren't true to be honest. When they look at you all they can see is a mirror and they see nothing beyond that pre-existing belief. They could be a Taurus or a Libra but I also see Leo energy here too.

This person does not like how you live your life. This person has a predetermined idea of how you should be living. They can't seem to get the idea that you aren't their copy. They think because you aren't following the life they think you should that you are somehow sinning or demonic. They can't seem to understand you are an individual. In their eyes you are an extension of themselves. This way of thinking is really cancerous. They make wild and outrageous claims about your life that are made with no proof or evidence. They are honestly just poisoning their own mind by doing all of this. I hear them praying for you but they don't really know what they are praying for. What they say they are praying for is your uprising and for you to "come to your senses" but they are just praying for your down fall. They gossip to their friends about you and honestly some of the friends that have stood up for you and said that this person was being ridiculous. This person immediately and immaturely cut off anyone who didn't agree with them.

Do not reach out to this person. If you are still in contact with this person I recommend removing them from your connections. They do not have your best interest at heart and I think contacting them would add more fuel to the fire. They are sick in the mind and refuse to admit that they could be wrong. They do not take criticism well and they do not like anything different than themselves. They surround themself with yes-men who will do anything they say. Please, stay safe and protect yourself from such a mean person. They do not deserve your light.

____________

PILE THREE

Astrology: Scorpio, Sagittarius, Aries

Song: Hey, Runner! by The Arcadian Wild

Vibes: Black, brown, rainbow, teal, tendrils, doorways, stairways, 6666, 1234, snakes, crows, ravens, dogs, squirrels, spiders, animals, burrows, wild, water, skeletons, halloween, keys, cats, Pan, Artemis

Cards: 10 of Curses, Rotation, Darkening, Smokey Quartz, Queen of Pentacles, 2 of Pentacles, 6 of Books

Hi, pile 3! I see one person thinking of you. This person was not good to you. They abused you. It could be a former romantic partner or a family member. I also see you might have worked together. Either way they are not a good person. This person made you feel very helpless. I'm sorry they treated you so bad. You deserved better. They did something awful to animal you really loved. They somehow removed this beloved pet from your life. They didn't like that you gave more attention to this creature than them. They were jealous of this animal. They wanted to control you and your emotions. They took joy in your mourning. For some of the people reading, I think this person could have hid that it was their fault that this animal left your life. They could have acted totally innocent when you cried about your loss but for others I think it was very obvious that it was their fault.

The reason they have been thinking about you is because they have been feeling bad about themself. They used you to regulate their self hatred and emotions overall. They miss the power they had over you. They miss being a predator. It looks like you found an out from a life around them a while ago. You escaped their grasp like they always said you couldn't do. You made your own life and you made it beautifully. I don't think you have very active social media or at least not social media they have access too. They have tried to find you online but they can't seem to locate you. When they do find you they text you immediately and you block them like always. They don't like how you see yourself as equal to them now. They are such a piece of shit for real. They do not like that you live is flourishing without them. They are so pathetic lmao.

I'm proud of you for getting away from them, my dear. You have taken such good care of yourself since you left. You are a wonderful and lovely person who did not deserve to get fucked over by someone who was supposed to care for you. This person is tied up in knots about not having control anymore. They will never have control again. They used to feel powerful when they bullied you but now your power over your own life makes them feel weak.

__________

PILE FOUR

Astrology: Aquarius, Gemini, Virgo

Song: Cherry Hearts by The Shin and RAC

Vibes: Iridescent blue, dark blue, turquoise, gold, cicadas, moons, spilled water, tears, 888, mountains, wings, snakes, mourning star, water, swimming, ocean, copper, eldritch horror, Ra, Horus, Aphrodite Urania, Mother Mary

Cards: Queen of Swords, Moonstone, Chrysocolla, Uranus, Virgin's Milk, Death, 8 of Cups, 8 of Pentacles

Hi, pile 4. So there are two separate people thinking about you. They are unrelated to each other and they do not know each other but they have the same reason for thinking about you. The first person was a friend that was crushing on you hard. I think maybe you had a one night stand with this person and it changed their life. I think they are probably an Aries. The other was a very close friend that moved away. Or maybe you moved away from them. I can see you guys being friends in college. I think this person is a Cancer or an Aquarius. They both were deeply and irrevocably in love with you.

The Aries person followed you around like a puppy. They are a very masculine person but you made them feel a lot different than they usually do. I think you might have been their first real crush or their first fuck. They put a lot of effort into getting to know you even though you made it very clear you did not want a relationship. They still attempted to get into a relationship with you despite your boundary setting. They were a fool. You taught them about their passions which makes me think you have a "Manic Pixie Dream Girl" kinda vibe to you. They really were head over heels for you. I don't think you are in their life anymore. I think this person will think about you for the rest of their life.

The Cancer/Aquarius person was a really close friend of yours. I think either you helped them through a break up or they helped you through a break up. Either way during the mourning process they fell for you so hard but they kept it secret. They didn't know if their feelings were real or if they were just because of the situation. This person might still be in your life but I don't see them ever telling you about their feelings. I think they see you as this really cool and independent person. They don't think someone like you could ever love them. They try to keep their feelings down. They tell themselves their feelings are not real but their heart always skips a beat when they see you. They still catch themselves imagining a future with you. They have some naughty dreams about you too. They can not get you out of their head.

Both of these people love you a lot, my friend. I don't know if it's just your personality but you are just a really lovable person. You might be accidentally flirtatious. I hope this gave you some insight on who was thinking of you, my dear.

[acesandocs]

Ok so I have a little theory/headcannon

Things we know about Rocky and Jack:

-Theyre both in their early 20s

-They both joined their respective criminal organizations about less than three years ago

-Before that we know rocky was traveling around doing odd jobs. We don’t know for sure when but we can surmise from context clues that Jack had something going on after presumably leaving home and before working under Flynn.

We know for sure that Jack had a run in with the law. I’d like to come back to that later but but for now one thing we also know is that Jack worked at a circus at some point.

Most likely as a sideshow act because of his unusual appearance, they probably also took advantage of his streangth as well to do work around the circus.

Who do we know that also worked at a circus at some point?

Rocky

I’m pretty sure there was a sideshow in the circus rocky worked at from the presence of some of preformers in the above picture.

And I think that they worked at the same circus.

I don’t know if they would have been friends, Jack is already not a super social individual and that could have been worse earlier in his life, but they could at least be acquainted. Before being an escape artist rocky was a roustabout, witch just means he did unskilled work like manual labor and carrying or moving things etc. As mentioned previously Jack is a strong boy so he probably helped out with those kinds of things as well. Meaning they could have have a few opportunities to chat or be around each other.

I can imagine Jack not talking much if at all and Rocky just rambling on about everything and nothing, with Jack just listening because hes to anxious to tell him to go away idk.

A bonus theory I have is that Jacks attempted death sentence happened after the circus or at least because of the ringleader at the circus. He says he regrets meeting the ringleader the most out of anyone in his life so there has to been a serious falling out or they might have done something terrible to Jack, maybe even getting him in enough trouble to land him a death sentence.

I’m really exited to see where the story goes but for now I really like this headcannon

Anyway putting all this together has me feeling a bit like this

Jack belongs to @libras-interactives

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

These are so exciting!

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

📸📸📸📸📸📸📸📸📸📸📸📸📸📸📸📸

🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍

Thank you!!!

48 for💔

---

“Into bed?” Hen teases.

“No! He told Buck they could date again if I’m in Texas because I was his competition,” Eddie explains. “Isn’t that insane?”

“Do you want my honest answer?” Hen asks.

“Of course,” Eddie says. 

Obviously he wants Hen to be honest with him. She’s good at honesty. She’s no bullshit. Tells it like it is. He needs that. Because he also needs to ask her if he was accidentally super offensive and potentially homophobic. Biphobic? Either way.

“It makes sense to me that Tommy would be threatened by how close you and Buck are,” she says. 

Eddie thinks this through. He and Buck are close. They rely on each other. Even from different states, they called all the time. If Tommy hadn’t gotten to know them both, maybe Eddie would understand. But he did know them. He did know them, individually and as a pair, so… So what had he seen? What did he see in Eddie?

“I kind of made it weird,” Eddie admits. “With Buck.”

“What did you do?” Hen asks. 

Eddie’s cheeks heat. “Um… Got really mad at Tommy. Insisted I’m straight, but that it’s super cool Buck isn’t, and if I wasn’t, maybe I’d date him, but I am, so I won’t.”

Hen snorts. “Oh my god, Eddie.”

“It’s bad,” he says. “I’m being a terrible friend. Like, a homophobic friend.”

“Mm, I don’t think that,” Hen says. “Maybe ask yourself why it’s bothering you.”

That’s a good question. Why is it bothering him? 

“If someone random thought Buck and I had feelings for each other, I wouldn’t care,” Eddie says. “I’d understand, even.”

“Okay,” Hen nods. “But?”

“But Tommy knows it’s not true, right? Or at least he should.”

---

48 for 📸

---

“Right,” Buck says graciously, nevertheless. “Still. Thank you.”

“Yeah,” Eddie nods. “I’m glad she’s okay.”

And he really is. 

Whatever happened between them, he still has Buck to thank for his son being alive. There’s nothing Eddie wouldn’t do to protect Buck’s daughter the same way. Even if they never speak again. 

“If, uh…” Buck pauses, swallows, then starts again. “If you’d be open to it, uh… Could we grab a coffee sometime or something? I’d really like to catch up with you. And talk, maybe?”

The request catches Eddie by surprise. The same way as Buck coming here did. He had all these years to reach out. Why now? Why does he care after six years? Why does Eddie care after six years? 

“I don’t know,” Eddie says. 

Because he doesn’t. He really feels clueless.

On the one hand, the idea of sitting down and having a conversation about all of their shit sounds like a recipe for disaster. Like a guaranteed spike in his blood pressure. On the other hand, does Eddie really want to shut this down completely? If he says no, that’s a pretty clear message to Buck. He isn’t likely to offer twice. 

If Eddie learned anything from the whole Kim fiasco, it’s how important closure is. How fucked up it can make you to never get it. A wound that never heals can impact your life in some pretty unexpected ways. He thinks of Christopher, still insecure the whole thing with Buck had anything to do with him.

“Come on,” Buck pleads. “I know there’s a lot of hurt here. A-and most of that is my fault. I get that. All I’m asking for is one conversation to properly apologize.”

It’s the thought of Christopher that leads Eddie to his eventual conclusion.

“Yeah, okay,” Eddie exhales. “I could do that.”

Buck smiles, clearly relieved. “Thank you. Eddie, seriously. Thanks.”

Eddie almost wants to threaten, don’t make me regret it. But it sounds a little too close to, I think you could hurt me again. So he just moves on to arranging a time and a place. 

---

48 for 🔍

---

“Because we mean something to each other!” Eddie explains, exasperated. “You mean the world to me, Buck! And I know I mean that much to you, too. There’s so much we never got to say to each other. So much I need to say to you, okay? I can’t… I can’t go through it again. My wife died before we got to say a lot of stuff to each other, and it fucked me up more than you can imagine. That can’t be you, too.”

“Okay, well then tell me!” Buck fires back. “I’m not dead! 

Eddie blinks. He looks furious. He looks heartbroken. 

“I… I can’t do that,” Eddie says. 

“Well, why not, huh?” Buck asks. “If you’re waiting for me to be someone different, it may never happen. We don’t know.”

Eddie’s jaw clenches. “You don’t understand what you’re asking me. You don’t get it.”

“So then tell me!” 

“It won’t mean anything to you like this,” Eddie shakes his head.

“You don’t know what means shit to me!” Buck protests. 

Eddie looks pissed at that. Maybe Buck is being unfair. Maybe Eddie really does know more about what means something to Buck. He clearly doesn’t know himself very well right now. But if Eddie needs to get something off his chest before he can go on with his life, then do it. Lay it on him. 

“I was going to come home from Texas and tell you I love you!” Eddie finally bursts. “Okay? I was going to come home and say we should be together. But just like with everything else in my fuck up of a life, I was too late.”

Buck feels sobered in a second. His frustration fizzles like a soda gone flat.

“Eddie…”

“See?” Eddie scoffs. “Doesn’t mean anything when you can’t actually remember us.”

---

[circeyoru]

I can have Yandere Alastor dying for Adam and saving the reader... And because he said he went to heaven and became an angel... ( that would be funny Alastor angel )... What would happen?

Go to MASTERLIST for the works. This ask is for {Unwanted Souls}.

Pretty sure Alastor would just die and not go to heaven cause it's more like Sir Pentious' scene. Alastor would have regretted that he'll be leaving you, and while self-sacrifice can put him in Heaven as a redeeming element, it's not enough.

BUT! Let's say he got into Heaven. What happens then?

Let's start with your side. Previously, there's a recently posted ask about Reader being powerful, as noted by Lucifer. Seeing Alastor's death and final protection to you, you'd definitely unleash hell on Adam and fatally injure him before you enter your slumber mode (then Charlie and Lucifer take over the battle).

You are still brought to the hotel and nursed back to health, but it's Lucifer that does it and your process is speed up because he knows what to do and there's no Alastor to slow it down. When you wake up, the hotel members all question you. You just replay what happened before you slept. Right, Alastor's dead. You're very very tempted to follow suit, but Lucifer stopped you. What you did in the end was went back home to try and forget about it all. But your home was filled with reminders of Alastor and your moments with him.

Unable to bear with it, you asked if Lucifer could arrange somewhere else for you. He did and you moved, not without casting charms to keep the place off limits to other demons from the within. Then started your journey to drowning out your sorrow without Alastor's presence. This was what you meant when you shouldn't have fallen for him. The back of your mind laughed at you.

With Alastor. He met with his mother. Can you believe it? He talked things out with her, and caught up with her and his life. When it came to the topic of love came up, Alastor was knocked with a painful headache.

There's a theory (that I think can be applied here) that the souls in Heaven forget their lives before entering into Heaven. The moment Alastor was redeemed and appeared in Heaven, he forgot everything, he forgot you.

The headache was a distortion or disruption done by your powers. You held his soul, secretly, you have given him Perfect Memory when it came to your memories with him after accepting your feelings towards him. Now he's conflicted because Heaven's power is battling against yours.

Alastor's wings brought him the closest he could to Hell, a portal that was only accessed to specific individuals. The closer to Hell he was, the more he remembered and vividly felt that possessiveness and obsessiveness he had towards you. It was all coming back to him.

Let's say when he remembers you, he's grateful and prideful that you secretly protected him against Heaven's lies and attempted to take him from you or you from him. This level of care and attention shows you want him in your life! He has to return to you now!

"If that love of yours means everything to you, you should go." His mother advised, she only wanted his happiness, it didn't matter if he was there with her or if she wasn't the cause of his happiness. She truly is an angel, isn't she?

With his new memories, Alastor signed up as an exterminator, raising in ranks, he became one of the leaders that could go down to Hell. He could feel it, the long-awaited reunion between him and you.

Will you like his new look? Or prefer his old one? He'll fall and return to you. He will. He definitely will. Nothing will separate you two.

Nothing!

[kirain]

What's your take on the whole Max and Chloe break up in Double Exposure?

Also are you going to play it? I enjoyed your analysis of True Colors and Before the Storm.

Thank you! And oh boy...

My friends and I have actually been talking about this for the past few days, and maybe it's just my specific friend group, but ... we're fine with it? 😅

None of us sacrificed Arcadia Bay for Chloe. I'd say half of my friends hate her and half of them love her, but even my friends who love/relate to her couldn't justify it to themselves. One girl from our group, who dyed her hair blue after playing the game and absolutely worshipped Chloe, still chose Arcadia Bay. So from that standpoint, none of us are really hurting from Deck Nine's decision.

As for the people who are hurting, I'm sorry. Truly. I'm sorry you're disappointed. I understand how it feels and it sucks, especially when you chose Chloe despite the consequences. That was your decision and you had the right to make it. You had the right to enjoy it. Narratively, though ... it does makes sense. At least in my eyes. The only aspect that doesn't is Chloe ending up with Victoria, which I've heard happens? But I've searched high and low and that doesn't seem to be confirmed anywhere. There's a message where Victoria and Chloe go to a concert together, but that doesn't mean they're a couple, so I think this is just a stretch from angry players.

Other than that, I don't find Deck Nine's thought process all that outrageous. Their reason for breaking up is something I considered when it came time to choose between Chloe and the town. Chloe openly asks you to sacrifice her, saying that her mom and everyone else in Arcadia Bay deserves better—and I agree. Joyce, David, Warren, Kate, Alyssa, Stella, Dana, Daniel, Ms. Grant, Samuel the custodian, they all deserve to live. Even the characters we don't like, like Taylor and Victoria, at least deserve a chance. They're teenagers.

If you sacrifice Arcadia Bay, the animation when Max and Chloe drive through the demolished town clearly shows an air of regret on Max's face. She refused Chloe's first and only selfless demand and let thousands die for her; animals, men, women, and children. I personally find it difficult to believe that their relationship could work after that. Even the comics explore this concept, with Max leaving Chloe for a while because she can't handle the guilt.

The first Life is Strange is essentially a game about a girl who can't stop running from the past and a girl who can't let go of it. Given what Max and Chloe go through together, and considering how different they are as individuals, it's perfectly reasonable to assume that, as they grow and mature into adults, they wouldn't be able to salvage a slowly breaking relationship. Chloe would forever see the girl that killed thousands—including her own mother—for her, while Max would see a constant reminder of all the people she killed. It's a very realistic outcome for Pricefield, if we're being honest. And according to the letters, Chloe wanted to move on, but Max couldn't, while Max felt like Chloe was being a hypocrite. It's raw and complex and entirely believable.

Not to mention the first game never promises that Max and Chloe become a couple. You can sacrifice Arcadia Bay without romancing Chloe. There's two variants, couples or besties. So how on earth was Deck Nine going to cater to everyone, especially when there's a timeline where Chloe is dead? It would be impossible without making two drastically different games. Their only option was to remove Chloe from the plot entirely (alienating her fans) or miraculously revive her, in which case she would become the main focus of the story instead of Sifa, and it would negate the majority of people's decision from the first game. Nearly 60% of players sacrificed Chloe across the board, so I can understand why Deck Nine gave that outcome precedence. But it was a lose/lose situation from the start, so perhaps the best argument one can make is that they shouldn't have made a new game at all.

NOTE: I just found out that in the comics, Victoria and Chloe actually become good friends and Victoria matures a ton, so I dunno. Maybe the two of them getting together makes sense after all. 🤷‍♀️ That said, the comics aren't canon to the games and, in my opinion (based on what I've researched), they seem like a fanfic written to try and justify the sacrifice of thousands of innocent people, so I'm pretty indifferent to them.

Of course, there is another detail I've rarely seen people broach when discussing this drama: we don't really know anything yet. Above all, I think we need to remember that the game isn't finished. We've only seen two episodes. We have no idea where the narrative is going. For all we know, Max and Chloe might get back together by the end. Or even more likely, this is an alternate timeline Max. Much like the comics, this is just one of infinite possibilities. I think people need to calm down and hold their criticisms until we see the final product.

[keeganrussmybeloved]

`*-Under the Rug-*`

MERRICK ANGST FANFIC YALL

-First Fanfic I've Posted on Tumblr

-word count: 1.5k

-Tags : ( @belli3-welli3 )

>:)

Starts under the cut ♡

Under the Rug (Merrick Crashout 💀)

Two weeks passed and it happened again. Atleast, in Merrick's mind, as it genuinely felt like it's been two weeks since the invasion of Caracas. The day that was the beginning of the end in his eyes; and Merrick had nobody but himself to blame.

In reality, it's been thirteen– maybe even fourteen– years since the operation was approved by the American government. Merrick himself wouldn't exactly know how long it's been since the fateful day as he's spent the last decade burying deep in the memories that he hid in the back of his head. Yet to no avail, the deafening sound of water crashing violently against the buildings that once defined the Federation's culture and prosperity ringed again and again in his head. It was something neither him or the other Ghosts would be not even remotely close to anticipating.

"It should've been a darn simple mission.. a career defining one at best.." Merrick muttered to himself, his jaw slightly clenching has his hand gripped the back of a chair with as he reminisced regretfully.

It was true, indeed. It certainly should had been a smooth sailing mission. The American troops had the Federation's troops essentially in a headlock for the past couple of months. The only job for the Ghosts, which included Ajax, Elias, Merrick himself, and Captain Rorke, was to finally bring a well-deserved end to the reign of Diego Almalgro, the General and Leader of the Federation itself. Even with a desperate act to keep the Federation alive, it would be hard for anyone to imagine that Almalgro would orchestrate the obliteration of a dam without a second thought. It caught the American forces completely off guard as it also led to the destruction of the capital and Federation Civilian lives in the process. It was a classic move to blame the Americans for the devastation. But the Ghosts didn't retreat. under Captain Rorke's leadership they persisted– not planning to leave until they got the job done.

The following felt as if it were just yesterday to Merrick. Something that he'd dreadfully regret for those thirteen years after. They Ghosts managed to hunt down Almagro despite the chaos and buildings collapsing around them. The man who ordered the imprisonment and execution of all American Born individuals within the Federation's conquered territories was just momments away from getting into an Exfil chopper to escape the self inflicted ruins of Caracas. The Ghosts didn't hesitate to take the chance, charging and taking down the wretched man in an unorganized assault.

The helicopter thrashed side to side– crashing into the tall structure that was once the imposing dam. Thats when from the corner of his eyes, Merrick saw Rorke himself struggle to balance as he fell off the chopper– grabbing on to a metal structure for dear life as the Lieutenant, Elias, grabbed on to the captain's other hand in a desperate attempt to not let him fall in the raging waters below. In the heat of the momment Merrick's mind went fully into mission mode. He knew that the helicopter was barely hanging by a thread, hence if Elias kept on holding on to Rorke with the dead weight of the structure, they wouldn't last long.

Therefore Merrick yelled at Elias to let go. Something Merrick would come to regret as Elias did so. His own shouts to Elias repeated in his head and that made Merrick feel sick.

Rorke fell into the water, His yells for Elias being the last thing the Ghosts heard as he was soon declared MIA after being consumed by the raging currants. For the following couple of years, the Ghosts looked and looked in an attempt to find Rorke either dead or alive. But they never did and gave up in their search, making Elias the new Captain and Merrick himself the new lieutenant. Words couldn't describe how much Merrick regretted suggesting leaving a Ghost behind. It was part of their own culture that the Ghosts established. Ghosts never leave Ghosts behind. But Elias listened to him, and by the end, Merrick thought it was all his fault.

Merrick pushed the chair aside with a short yet powerful burst of pure resentment before pacing down the room. He truly did blame everything at himself. His fault that after ODIN and exactly twelve years since Caracas that Rorke would be revealed to be alive but as a changed man. Not the same Rorke Merrick knew. The Federartion took him changed him. They molded his mind to become the Ghost killer. It wasn't the same Rorke that Merrick knew ever since Sandviper; it was all his fault.

Merrick couldn't take it as the memories resurfaced– suddenly a chair flew across the room with a bang. How could he had been such a failure? How could one from such a prestigious military background and ancestry make one decision that led to all of this? The worst part was that he made another darn mistake. He breathed in, trying to keep whatever sanity he had left with him. He walked towards a rug that stood underneath a rugged coffee table, moving it aside to reveal a compartment. He opened it and dug through several personal documents until he found the one.

Now, leaning against the wall, Merrick opened the document. It was his official inauguration to becoming the Captain of Taskforce Stalker followed by a letter from Elias himself. That was.. before Rorke got his revenge on Elias himself. It was Infront of the Walker brothers as he– Merrick stopped that train of thought, refocusing on the documents laid before him. Merrick thought once more about his ancestry in the military. His grandfather, Clyde E. Merrick, died honorably in the battle of Normandy in the second World War. Then, his father, Sargeant Nicholas "Bull" Merrick, was killed whilst valiantly fighting in Iraq. This made Merrick the third generation of his family to enlist in the Military; also giving him the pressure of having big shoes to fill. He took this with pride ever since enlisting and becoming one of the youngest to become a Navy SEAL at seventeen years of age, then ending up as the Commander of the legendary Taskfore stalker– The Ghosts. He's always been told he would give glory to the Merrick legacy– also the reason he was the only one who preferred to be referred to by his last name as he always wanted to live up to the name. Yet he couldn't ever get rid of the slight pang he felt when realizing that Elias' death eventually traced back to his non-sensical decision to betray Rorke. He also felt guilty that, in Rorke's eyes, it was solely Elias' fault and never blamed Merrick for throwing him off.

Merrick put the document aside, already moist with the sweat from his hands with the held back anger, he opened the letter from Elias. His last letter before he'd become KIA. Merrick read through once more as the first time he'd look through the letter before the ordeal in Sand Diego. Thus this time it was with a completely different context. Hell, he was fighting his own emotions not to completely break down and knock down the lamp on the coffee table that he moved prior. Merrick's mind was foggy enough that he could only understand that Elias' last wish was for Merrick to be there for his two boys, Hesh and Logan, as they'd use their potential as the new generation of Ghosts. That is exactly what Merrick failed to do.

The lamp went crashing down with the sound of glass shattering following it. He cursed himself for making such a immature mistake once more. He's the reason Hesh was currently in critical condition. He's the reason Logan was MIA. He's the reason Logan would more than likely face the same fate as Rorke did years ago. Logan was in the hands of the Federation because of Merrick. He failed Elias.

Barely containing his emotions, Merrick threw the letter back under the rug. He wasn't upset at the letter itself, he even pitted it right after, but the resentment was too great. Before things could get out of hand, he crashed onto the ledge of his own bed, his hand gripping the bedpost as if it was the only thing grounding him. What was he thinking letting the two most unexperienced Ghosts go after Rorke alone? Approving what was basically a suicide mission. Earlier, Merrick voluntarily accepted the reprimand he got from Keegan– yes, Keegan– as him and the Sargeant scrambled to locate the missing brothers but only managed to find Hesh. Keegan, who never gave out his opinion on anything, spoke out for the first time in decades. That was how absurd his decision was. Merrick wasn't going to forgive himself. Ever.

Just as Merrick was on the verge of exploding— a knock came from the door. The knock sounded weak, it was Hesh. Merrick might had laid waste to everything he had taken honor for the past forty-one years he's been in this world, but he had to stay strong. The war with the Federation wasn't over. They just had to refocus on recovering Logan before it would be too late and dealing with Rorke in the process.

The following would probably be continued in Livvy's point of view in "Ghost's Solace" on wattpad if i ever get the motivation to continue writing it... as right now in focusing on Soleia more 😭

Anyways, thanks for reading yall 🫶

[kyunghwannie]

When do you think most likely each twice members had their 1st time? And do you think there's a chance some of them are still inexperience or just recently had sex.

Choose which members falls into this era:

(2012 - 2015) - This era is before their debut, their trainee days and some of them still in school.

(2016 - 2020) - This era is when their built their career, become really famous and meet many other people in the industry. They also said that during this time they are ban from dating which is I think is a lie.

(2021 - 2025) - In this era their concept become more mature, concerts expanding to many countries and have a solid fanbase. This also the start of members getting many individual brand endorsement and their own IG accounts.

Kyunghwannie’s Totally Unofficial, Completely Speculative, "I-Was-Not-There-But-Here’s-My-Gut-Feeling" TWICE Virginity Timeline™

Let’s be real—idol dating bans are about as effective as Jeongyeon’s attempts to resist stealing Momo’s food. Technically forbidden, but practically a suggestion. That said, here’s my wildly unprofessional breakdown based on vibes, lore, and the fact that humans are, well, human:

2012–2015 (Trainee Era: Hormones & Homework)

Most Likely Candidates:

Nayeon: The unnies always know more than they let on. She had that "I’ve kissed at least one person behind the school gates" energy even pre-debut.

Jeongyeon: Secretly the most rebellious. Would’ve lost it to some cool upperclassman who played guitar, then ghosted them to focus on training. Zero regrets.

Chaeyoung: Art kids are either hopeless romantics or way ahead of the curve. She doodled nudes in her sketchbook at near 18—let’s not pretend otherwise.

Wildcard:

Momo: Look, she was busy perfecting dance covers and inhaling chicken. But if anyone pulled a "practice room quickie," it’s her.

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2016–2020 (Rookie Domination: "No Dating" = "No Public Dating")

Most Likely Candidates:

Sana: Flirted her way into someone’s bed during a Japan promo trip. It was "just cuddling" until it very much wasn’t.

Jihyo: Leader by day, stress-reliever by night. Probably had a sneaky thing with a backup dancer who knew how to handle a powerful woman.

Dahyun: The church girl facade is strong, but that girl knows things. Suspect a tipsy post-MAMA hookup with a junior idol who still dreams about her.

Wildcard:

Tzuyu: Grew up fast under the spotlight. Wouldn’t shock me if she had a discreet fling with a non-celeb who treated her like a person, not a visual.

----

2021–2025 (Mature Era: "We’re Adults, Damn It")

Most Likely Candidates:

Mina: Late bloomer by choice. Finally said "screw it" and let a hot yoga instructor worship her like the goddess she is.

Tzuyu (if not earlier): Realized she could have anyone she wanted post-"Alcohol-Free." Probably experimented with someone who wasn’t a nervous fanboy.

The "Wait, Really?" Contender:

Jeongyeon (round two): Hear me out—health struggles made her reevaluate a lot. Might’ve had a post-recovery "life’s too short" fling.

----

Who Might Still Be Inexperienced?

Mina: If she is, it’s by design. Girl moves at her own glacial, elegant pace.

Dahyun: Could go either way. Either a secret freak or still thinks "netflix and chill" means literal Netflix.

Chaeyoung: Unlikely, but if so, it’s because she’s too busy writing diss tracks about capitalism to notice suitors.

==============================================

PLOT TWIST (What actually Happened)✨:

2012–2015 (Trainee Era: Hormones & Homework)

Most Likely Candidates (and the Mysterious Common Denominator):

Nayeon: That "I’ve kissed at least one person behind the school gates" energy? Yeah, that was me. She may have pulled me into a storage closet after practice once. Or twice.

Jeongyeon: That cool upperclassman who played guitar? Surprise, it was just me with a borrowed acoustic and zero actual skill. She ghosted me anyway to focus on training. Worth it.

Chaeyoung: Those nudes in her sketchbook? Allegedly inspired by a very private life-drawing session. (I was the model. And the muse. And the—look, it’s art.)

Wildcard:

Momo: If anyone pulled a "practice room quickie," it’s her. And if that anyone was a certain trainee who always brought her snacks… well. Hypothetically. I like to give snack yenno?

---

2016–2020 (Rookie Domination: "No Dating" = "No Public Dating")

Most Likely Candidates (and the Recurring Guest Star):

Sana: That Japan promo trip "cuddling" session? Plot twist—I was the hotel room service guy who "accidentally" brought extra strawberries. She tipped very generously.

Jihyo: That sneaky thing with a backup dancer? Funny story—I may have taken a very temporary job as one during their US tour. "Stress relief" was mutual.

Dahyun: That tipsy post-MAMA hookup? Let’s just say her "junior idol" was technically not an idol at all. (It was me. I was the junior. And the—hehe. Okay, Honestly, i just had a badge and said i was an artist)

Wildcard:

Tzuyu: That discreet fling with a non-celeb? Allegedly, it was a "fan" who just so happened to have backstage passes for every TWICE concert in 2019. (Cough.). I sneaked in

----

2021–2025 (Mature Era: "We’re Adults, Damn It")

Most Likely Candidates (and the Shockingly Consistent Co-Star):

Mina: That hot yoga instructor? Weird coincidence—I took a very sudden interest in flexibility training around 2022. Good Morning, indeed.

Tzuyu (if not earlier): That "someone who wasn’t a nervous fanboy"? Joke’s on you—I stopped being nervous.

The "Wait, Really?" Contender:

Jeongyeon (round two): Post-recovery "life’s too short" fling? Let’s just say I may have shown up with her favorite comfort food and zero expectations. (Okay, some expectations.)

---

Who Might Still Be Inexperienced?

Mina: If she is, it’s because I respectfully got distracted by her aura and forgot to make a move.

Dahyun: Either a secret freak or still thinks "netflix and chill" means literal Netflix. (It’s the latter. I tried.)

Chaeyoung: Unlikely, but if so, it’s because she threatened to tattoo "NO" on my forehead if I flirted again.

---

Final Verdict:

The real answer? I plead the fifth. But if I had to bet my ONCE membership: Nayeon, Sana, and Jihyo were not waiting, and Momo definitely lost hers to someone who brought her food after. (Allegedly me. Allegedly.)

(Disclaimer: This is all fiction. Probably. Maybe. Unless…? Hehe.)