#it's beautiful and difficult and not for everyone

[heartikeu]

IN ALL YOUR PERFECTS

〔 𝒾 〕 How did you get so lucky as to bag one of the hottest men on campus, Sim Jaeyun? That question rings in your head often, even in moments you shouldn't feel insecure. And every answer is too unkind to speak out loud to the beautiful boy stealing hearts on the lacrosse field and upending your world with every smile he gives you. But he can sense something is off, and if you don't explain why soon, you may just be the downfall of everything.

𝐬𝐢𝐦 𝐣𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐮𝐧 𝓍 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 12.2K ⋮ 18+ ⋮ fluff, angst, smut, plus-size!reader, lacrosse player!jake, semi-fwb au, college au, downbad!jake, insecurites (of the reader), self-manipulation, negative self-talk and thoughts, body worship, praise kink, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie ᯤ 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗍��: 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 — 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘭𝘥𝘭𝘧𝘦, 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 — 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘢𝘭, 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 — 𝘤𝘰𝘪𝘯, 𝘥𝘪𝘻𝘻𝘺 — 𝘺𝘶𝘦𝘬𝘶, 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 — 𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 — 𝘥𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭, 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘴 — 𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘭𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦!

⌗ 𝐨𝐩𝐚𝐥'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ── First and foremost, thank you for all the love the teaser for this fic got, it makes me so happy that everyone was receptive to this premise and wanted to see the entire story! All of my loves who read this (@lovetaroandtaemin @frenchkisstheabyss @xomakara @innocygnet @tinycatharsis @xylatox @aeristudios and many others), I love you guys and thank you for motivating me to continue it. And to all of you, like I said in the teaser, you are greater than your worst thoughts, and the love that you deserve is waiting for you no matter your size or self-doubts. I hope you enjoy!

You never step out of the car.

It's routine to pick Jake up after every Tuesday and Friday lacrosse practice. You detested the idea at first. You didn't know Jake's teammates and friends—you made a point not to—but you predicted long ago they would smell your anxiety the second you shifted gears on the pavement. "Just have San or someone else do it, please?" You'd responded with something to that effect the first time he asked, and the subject was dropped.

But sticking to your guns became especially difficult once Jake discovered your undoing via his incessant pouting and perfectly-executed neck kisses. Ultimately, your resolve crumbled.

You've driven to and away from the field many times in the past four months, yet your physical reactions in between the driving never change. You sit with bated breath as you see the clock on your dash shift, ten minutes past when you were supposed to be here passing in a blur. Fingers tap against the steering wheel in time to the beat of the song, the melody humming low from your speakers. All of the humdrum habits and safety of your car keep you from feeling small, but the second your head turns, or a sound pulls you from your daze, you're fucked.

Your 2011 Volkswagen is no match for the Audis and Range Rovers surrounding you in the parking lot next to the lacrosse field. In the 9 PM moonlight, they all shine something fierce. The chrome and glossy finishes are in excruciatingly stark contrast to the chipped paint on your front bumper and aged rubber lining your tires.

You can't picture what the field must look like. Booster parents and college alumni's donations ensured top-dollar amenities for the team that you've never seen play once. The Red Hawks have to be formidable in some capacity in order to garner such adoration from your peers and financial support from the school administration.

Jake laughed it off when you said you never went to a game before him and didn't plan on doing so even after ending up in his bed. He just went back to kissing you at the time and let it go because he knew the truth: it wasn't a part of the deal you both agreed upon.

"Yet picking him up is?" Jungwon asked one morning after you told him about taking Jake home the night prior. You lovingly told your best friend to fuck off and mind his business. The questions on his face could have easily cracked through your cool resolve, but you wouldn't let them.

All that can do that is your own nerves, psyching you out in a million ways before Jake can step away from the field and make it to your passenger side door.

Ultimately, though, finally seeing his sweat-soaked hair and cherry-red uniform hugging his body makes the fears dissipate enough for you to breathe normally again. A handful of guys walk off, but Jake and a few friends remain near the edge of the field. You can hear his laugh before he can get to your car, his conversation with his teammates turning from strategy to straight comedy, no doubt. Felix and Vernon share brotherly handshakes with him before making it to their own cars. You tell yourself not to follow them with your eyes, but they betray you the second the two men leave your peripheral vision. The girls waiting outside their vehicles are eager to greet them, sporting denim cutoffs and tank tops meant to show off their midriffs.

Subconsciously, your hand drifts to your own stomach. The skin there hasn't seen the sun in a hot minute. The last time had to be when you were too drunk to care. Now, more than clearheaded, you feel the hard truths come in like tidal waves. The outfit you could never pull off taunts you like the cars do. It's another piece of the puzzle to prove you don't fit in, not really.

The light but purposeful taps to your window pull you from the precipice of another mental spiral. You turn to find Jake fogging up the glass with his quick breaths. His megawatt smile is electric, unfurling your somber mood like a bird's wing. He may desperately need a shower and some rest, but he's never looked more radiant than with his flushed cheeks and damp curls. For how bright the moon shines outside, he's the sun incarnate.

He gets in the passenger side once he sets his equipment in your back seat. After he's settled in, his smile is back on you, warming you with silent heat.

"You smell," you say before pecking his lips. The kiss lasts for only a few seconds, but it could be a lifetime from how slow and smooth it feels, numbing your thoughts to their core like novocaine.

"Oh?" he asks when you pull away, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

"You're lucky I'm into that."

He chuckles. His lips are back on yours in the next second, the sound of his laughter still rumbling on his tongue when it enters your mouth. He presses his hand to your cheek, pulling you into him. The protective taping wrapped around his hand, running from knuckles to wrist, rubs against your cheek with every move of his mouth and fingertips.

You pull away to catch your breath, dizzy from the force of him. He whispers, "Let's go home."

He says the last word reverently, like home is just the two of you and nobody else. Exactly as it should be in his eyes. You try to believe it as you start the car, his hand firm on your thigh as you begin the drive back to his studio apartment. You want to take his words to heart, the only reassurance you'd ever need to quell the fear of opulence and beauty you barely possess, but you know the facts.

It won't last, so you have to enjoy what you can while you have it. But even that seems to be the hardest feat in the universe when you're reminded of what will soon be gone.

"Jaeyun—holy shit—right there." You gasp, moving your hips harder against Jake's soft lips. His tongue swirls around your clit as his fingers enter and exit your spongy walls. The brush of his fingertips hits you as hard as the murmurs of his words against your folds, praise leaving his lips as he admires the essence around his digits. You tighten around them with every swirl of his mouth on the hood of your cunt. He's desperate to make you fall apart once more, nuzzling deeper into you and moving faster.

You made it to his apartment quickly, the tension between you dissipating your earlier worries and transforming them into pure need. He may see it only as an expression of his desire for you, his stamina never-ending despite hours of practice. For you, it's the perfect way to make your ghosts go away, if only for a little while—his shower and rest be damned.

"She's sucking me in so well. Fuck, I love it," Jake comments, more for you than himself. He's a particular type of vulgar in bed. In normal conversation, he barely curses. Sure, he's still a guy surrounded by raging testosterone who possesses some fraction of perverted humor, but when he's lost in you and the sheets, he's feral. His composure becomes frayed in all the right ways when he sees your pussy flutter around his fingers, his tongue, his cock. He can't control it, and you don't want him to.

"God, please let me come again." You sink into his sheets as you arch your hips, chasing the feeling with eager and sweaty limbs. He pins you down harder, squeezing your plush skin between his palms while unraveling you. Jake's too good at this, snug amongst your soaked thighs and warm heat. Maybe he's made to live there in a land of skin and slick, forever existing between your legs.

"Yes, pretty girl. Let me feel it around me this time."

He switches positions quickly, sinking his aching tip inside of you as his wet fingers rub against your clit. He only manages a few strokes before you're losing your composure completely, clutching tightly to his shoulders with weak hands but lit-up nerve endings. His hips flex as your tongue shapes curses and half-completed moans.

"You're so perfect—ah, goddamnit—when you come. It's incredible. You're incredible." Sweat quickly paints his face as he maintains his slow but deep pace. He gains speed only once he feels his high trickling up his spine. "Where do you want it tonight, beautiful?"

You roll your eyes lazily, your head turning into the pillow from his praise. He always asks, although you both know the only correct answer. But you're so lost in him and the afterglow, you swallow the rhetorical barb on your lips and whisper, "Inside, Jaeyun. Fill me up, please? I want it all."

Jake curses once more before he ruts into you. Animalistic, choked cries erupt from deep in his diaphragm when he reaches his orgasm. He already had no composure left to speak of, but it’s as though he's finding it again by letting himself fall apart above you. Ropes of his seed coat your insides with warmth, and you think that this must be what he meant when he said "home" earlier in the car. There's nothing inside or outside of your bubble to fear when you're both so intertwined, so attached to one another in the most primal form.

You lay there together for a moment, evening the tempos of your heartbeats and pace of your breaths together. It's peace at its barest elements. The quiet of your mind feels as foreign as a new language, but Jake makes it easy to learn when he swims the uncharted waters with you.

But that's the trick with ghosts. They creep in the moment after a person believes they've bested them once and for all.

"I gotta ask you something," Jake whispers. He rubs his hands against the expanse of your back, but it's no longer soothing. The warmth you felt a mere ten minutes ago turns to ice, the calm waters transforming into a harsh current you're preparing to drown in. Jake senses the sudden rigidness of your body in the aftermath of his statement. He chuckles and pulls you in closer. "Relax, I'm not proposing to you."

You huff, quietly relieved. "Would've been an odd way to ask, anyway."

His chest rumbles with laughter. Your fear lowers to a manageable degree, but you remain on your toes. Possibilities flicker across your mind, the cryptic message capable of anything. Will he make another stink about you seeing one of his games? Does he want to risk you finally agreeing to attend one of the dumb house parties you've said no to a million times over, only for you to swat him on the arm and tell him to go to bed?

Your throat dries up in anticipation of the inevitable. After a moment, he says, "I want you to meet my parents."

You try silence to listen as Jake explains further, but you're running on half concentration and half inner turmoil. A few of his words play in a loop in your brain as you watch his lips move.

Jake's parents. Home from overseas. He wants to introduce you to them.

There were only a handful of rules established at the onset of whatever your relationship was. One of them was not to make the relationship itself intimately known amongst friends and family. Jake's teammates and your friends are aware you both are seeing each other, but that's the beginning and end of it. There's no showing off photos of each other, no bouts of PDA to make people envious or uncomfortable, and definitely no sharing of personal information.

You like it that way. It keeps the outside world from creeping in and expanding the doubts already adequately sized in your mind. You don't think you can take that reality, the one where everyone pulls their two cents together for the destruction of what little you've scrounged up with Jake, so you live in this one instead. You're at an arm's length from the entirety of him and his life, but he's still reachable. And you're still safe.

Only now, Jake is threatening that safety by wanting what's outside of your bounds, asking you to give parts of yourself you can't breach.

You pull away from him sharply, tasting alkaline metal in the back of your throat. In response, Jake's blush-painted cheeks go white. He presses both hands to either side of your face before you have time to move further away. His touch is so sweet, but it doesn't save you from getting lost in your head. "I know it's a lot, but they'd love you right away. And I—"

"What would we even say?" You interrupt him with bite, your teeth gnashing together in hard clamps. "'Hi, Mom, this is the girl from my organic chemistry class I've been fucking all semester. Dad, that's a nice tie'?"

"I wouldn't exactly put it like that," he jokes. He pushes some of your sweaty strands of hair from your face as he composes his next words. "And my dad doesn't wear ties, so we're good there."

"Jaeyun, you're missing my point!"

"I'm seeing it loud and clear, babe. I'm just saying there's nothing to worry about, especially my dad's fashion choices."

His teasing only makes your stomach sink deeper. How can you make him understand your perspective without cracking open months' worth of anxiety? You aren't officially dating, but it's been working just fine within the parameters of no labels. Why screw it up? "Yunnie, I can't. You know why."

He gulps and rubs one thumb along the apple of your cheek. He says nothing, but his brown irises and downturned lips hold all the questions in the world you can't answer. The biggest one of all nearly upends your willpower: Why can't you want more?

The problem is not that you don't. You do, so much so the desire for it could suffocate you. There's no woman on this planet who could sleep with Jake for this long and not grow fond of him. And that fondness has only grown stronger with time, time to be breathless with him by your side and time for your mind to race around thoughts of him when he wasn't there.

But you can't get lost in fantasy; you must be realistic. There will be a day he realizes you both are on two different planes of existence. You're perpendicular lines that, by some galaxy's grace, converged once and never will again.

He's Sim Jaeyun, lacrosse co-captain and statuesque head to toe. And you're you, the girl who your middle school bully nicknamed "Pudding" as she poked your stomach with a ruler. The teenager who delivered love notes to your friends from boys searching for less love handles and more sex appeal. The woman molded from pitiful pats to the chin and words of judgement caked with sugary understanding. "It's just baby fat, darling. We all get it, and it'll go away when you hit a growth spurt one day."

That day never came, and the extra tissue stayed. But, with time and effort, you grew callous to protect what remained soft inside of you.

Jake is the only person who seems to seep past the hard edges you've built without knowing any of your history, and it terrifies you. It makes you believe for a millisecond that he could make all the intrusive thoughts disappear if you'd let him.

But he can't, not when he asks for things that will never come, and definitely not when you're positive he won't care when he leaves you behind.

It doesn't make the pain on his face any easier to bear, though. It sags from defeat, and his lips turn in the pout you adore when he sees you don't want to hurt him any more than you already have by saying no. Before he can utter another word, or his expression can wound you deeper, you shut him up with something you'll regret later, a trade that feels like a death sentence. "The Hawk's Gala."

His eyes widen. "What?"

"The Hawk's Gala's this Sunday, right? After Saturday's game?" You swallow your fear like a dry pill. "I'll go with you."

Jake asked you weeks ago if you would attend the team's annual gala to celebrate the midway point of the season. One night, he mentioned it when you were too preoccupied with his cock in your mouth to give him a definitive answer. You expected him to not broach the topic again after you left him with no elaboration. But he had no room to complain after you swallowed every bit of his cum and mental energy. Unfortunately for you, he asked one more time after that, and you blew him again to make the invitation disappear from his mind.

Now, you’ve sprung the idea back on him to escape from the original conversation, but it only makes you feel worse as every pore on Jake's face lights up. "Really?"

He's like a kid sneaking a peek at his birthday present, tentative but ready to burst at the seams. You nod, not smiling but not frowning either, and the dam of his excitement breaks.

He squishes you back into bed, unaware of the terror in your eyes as he smatters kisses across your face and neck. His elation breaks your heart evenly down the middle, the hope seeping out of him souring instead of sweetening your mood. He's buzzing with the beginning of something more while you see the slow crawl to your end. The credits are rolling quickly past your eyes, the cackles and judgement ringing in your ears, and you can do nothing to stop it.

Working retail has to be one of the worst jobs you've ever had. It's monotonous to boot, the only upside being the extra money in your pocket for extra college expenses.

For all the glamour of the glitzy tops and convenience of the mall's constant markdowns, you have thought of quitting almost twice a day. Once customers see the name tag pinned to your shirt, you cease to be a person and become another goal post to the shopping bag they'll walk out of the store with.

The only bright spots have been your coworkers. Like Heeseung, who runs a tight ship as the store manager, and Sunwoo, your right-hand man when you need him to help with folding or handling rowdy teenagers.

Well, them, and the rare occurrence when Jake breaks your rules and stops by after classes to see you. It may only be ten to twenty minutes of time, most of those minutes being spent near the pretzel stand adjacent to the store, but it means more than you'd ever admit to anyone.

Today, you know it will be one of the hardest shifts of your life. Watching Wonyoung walk into the store with a random guy on Jake's team on her arm is like the knock of Death's fist on your door. You assume the poor kid is on the team from the Red Hawks letterman jacket he's wearing. The scoff that leaves your mouth is unavoidable. She couldn't be more transparent in her tactics to make her ex-boyfriend jealous when he's not even around.

Her presence makes a knot form in your throat as you finish rearranging the jeans on the display near the cash registers. What could she want in this store on this night when you're one of the few employees working the floor? Heeseung's on his half-hour lunch break while Sunwoo's been delegated to dressing room duty. You could use your walkie, call for backup and pretend the SOS is for a legitimate emergency, but then Heeseung would pry into it as your friend and superior. In short, there's no escaping the situation presented to you on a cruel, platinum-blonde platter.

When Wonyoung appears in front of you with a lacy dress in one hand and her boy candy's hand intertwined with the other, you stifle the bile crawling up your throat and paint on your best smile. "Welcome to Fatal Trouble Fabrics, what can I help you with?"

Wonyoung's own smile is more artificial than yours, saccharine yet glazed with venom. "Is XS the smallest size you guys have? I think it may be too roomy in the hips for me."

Your jaw ticks, and you tug the corner of your bottom lip between your teeth. "There's always alternative sizing options on our website. We go from XXXS to XXXL in almost all of the garments." You can hear the clinical objectivity in your voice, but it's the only way to get through the hell that is this conversation.

She's everything you're not in too many ways to tally up. She's half your weight soaking wet and effortlessly dolled up in the most natural makeup you've ever seen. Not to mention she has two years of experience with Jake to speak for that you'll never measure up to. He’s spoken about her in the rarest of times, only saying it ended badly during his second semester and he would never venture down that path with her again. His reassurance was a slight comfort, but not enough to quell the insecurities she springs out of you.

The second her eyebrow quirks up, your urge to vomit heightens. She can see she's getting to you; with the way her lips purse, she has to have some inkling. Knowing you’re going against a snake ready for the last strike against its defenseless prey, you steel yourself for whatever will come next.

She looks past you to the rack with tube tops in multiple colors. She lets go of Boy Candy's hand to rifle through the clothes, completely silent. Then, she pulls one bigger-sized article off the display before saying, "I'd love to buy this for my sister, but she's a bit chubbier than this. You know, your size."

Boy Candy can't fight the laughter that sputters past his lips. Your face twitches once, only once, but it makes your sight turn to the smallest capacity of tunnel vision you've ever known. She didn't have to go there, yet she did. You don’t have to feel the bruise of her insult, yet you do. It’s all over your posture now, and you can’t avoid it.

You grip another pair of jeans tighter in your hands. Turning to fold them, you say over your shoulder, "You should check out the website, then. It’ll have a lot more options for…easily accessible clothing, if you get what I mean."

Just as she's about to step closer to you, her plastic grin turning to a pissed-off pout, Jake saunters through the store and immediately wraps his hand around her upper arm. You know he's not hurting her, but it still makes your blood run cold seeing him in this protective mode. It's not one he's ever had to use for you, or maybe anyone, before. "Won, don't do this here. I mean it."

"Dude, you can't do that!" Boy Candy interjects with a high-pitched yell. He shrinks immediately when Jake turns in his direction, looking at the smaller and younger kid with rigid apathy.

"Kai, get lost before I tell Coach to bump you to second line just for pissing me off."

Kai raises his hands in defense and walks backwards to the store entrance, leaving Wonyoung to fend for herself. Jake goes back to staring down his ex-girlfriend, his expression on the cusp of explosion. “I’m asking you nicely to not cause a scene. Next time, I won’t.”

She huffs and yanks her arm from Jake's hold. "Whatever. Call me when you get tired of slumming it with food court trash." She looks back at you with a smirk before walking away towards Boy Candy.

You want to throw all the pairs of jeans at her until her smug face disappears from your mind. More importantly, you want to muffle the thoughts now overloading your headspace.

Please keep it together, you tell yourself when Jake puts his hand on your hip with reverence, a gesture that makes your heart swell but your breath quicken. Don't remind me I don't deserve him right now.

"Are you okay?" he asks patiently, moving his hand to run his thumb under your shirt. No coworkers or customers are around to see him be so secretly intimate with you, but you blush all the same.

You nod. "Yeah. I just wanna get through this shift,” You manage a smile, and he visibly relaxes when you affirm you’re fine. “You could've texted and said you were coming by."

"Well, it was a surprise." Jake moves away from you to take a box from his denim jacket. It's wrapped with a white bow, but he quickly unties it in order to open the packaging. "I know you said no gifts, but I wanted to give you this."

A gold necklace appears between his fingers. The rectangular pendant hanging from its center features a cutout of a bird, the negative space forming the shape of a hawk in flight.

You could cry if you weren’t awestruck by the gift’s beauty. Combing through your memory, you realize nobody has ever given you something so precious. It would be criminal to say no to it, although every basic instinct tells you not to fall for the false comfort it provides. But how could it be false when Jake looks at the jewelry like it's his own heart laid bare for you to take?

Without a word of protest, you turn and tuck your hair away from your shoulders so he can put the necklace on you. You can feel his smile without looking, and your knees buckle a touch.

Jake secures the clasp at the back of your neck. The pendant falls perfectly over your heart, shining against the store's halogen lights. His fingertips brush your nape as he moves away. He lights your skin on fire in every way, but the subsequent smile he gives you is what makes your belly ache with need. "I know you're going to look beautiful, but I couldn't have you going to this dinner without wearing something…symbolic."

"Symbolic, huh?" You smirk, feigning confidence, but you feel as vulnerable as he does when you ask it.

"Yeah, I think so." He runs his hand across your waist again, like he wants to pull you closer and harder against him. "If it wasn't unprofessional of you to make out with a customer, I'd have kissed you already."

You giggle, your smile beaming. "I don't think anyone's around to stop you, Sim."

He mumbles a "Fuck it" before attaching his mouth to yours, warming you to the bones slowly. You smile into his kiss and let it wash away the pain. For a moment, you think you might come out of the dinner in a few days without issue. As long as he never leaves your side, you think you can do it. Maybe.

Your fingers were tentative against the bruise marring Jake's shoulder blade. Tinted a shade deeper than his normal skintone but visibly lighter at the edges, the bruise will fade in another few days. You know this from asking him a few hours ago how it happened. "From practice, it's fine—just let me touch you, please," he had said in haste to pull you closer and take your clothes off.

Now, you tread across it gently as you sit shoulder-to-shoulder with him, covers pulled up to your chest to cover your naked skin.

"Broken blood vessels cause the bruise itself," he says. "It can take up to two weeks for the body to break down the buildup of blood, depending on the level of injury." He runs his bottom lip along your forehead, and you shiver against him, making him chuckle. "You could try listening, you know. I'm giving you important medical information here!" 

You laugh into his neck, playing with the ends of his hair. "I am! Just didn't expect you to know so much about the anatomy of a bruise when your degree is for veterinary medicine."

He shrugs, suddenly bashful. For all the talk of Jake around campus as a beast on the field, he's incredibly intelligent. One class was enough for you to see how engaged he was with his studies, more than just some jock you knew by name only. He always asked questions, took diligent notes, and collaborated in discussions without dominating the conversation. In truth, it was a shock that he asked to exchange lecture notes with you over coffee two months ago.

"You're one of the only people who jots down everything Mr. Choi says!" You tried not to sound rude when responding to his proposition, but you were unsure what exactly he wanted from you in the first place. Especially when he was the equivalent of a movie starlet and you…well…

He just smiled and said, "Well, it was kinda hard to do that today when I spent half of his presentation staring at you."

You shake away your bout of reminiscing, coming back to Earth to hear Jake's breakdown of bruises for dummies. He rolls his eyes dramatically after you apologize for losing your train of focus. "Anyway, that's why bruises can be hot to the touch. It's also why they change color little by little as the blood is broken down.

"From black and blue…" Jake presses a kiss to the spot between your eyebrows. He drags his mouth across your face with every pause he takes between speaking. "…to brown…sometimes green and yellow…"

His lips on your neck make you tremble once again under his touch. Your body acts as though he didn't already spread it out for the taking a mere half hour ago.

"…and then back to its normal color," he murmurs before another tantalizing kiss lands on your lips. You stifle a moan, but a partial sound squeaks out anyway that turns your cheeks a rosy hue. "Good as new."

"Now who's losing focus, huh," you jest.

"I think I'm doing just fine in that department, pretty girl."

The edges of your mouth turn up before you press your mouth to his wounded skin. His body feels all kinds of warm against your lips. He groans unabashedly, his own gooseflesh perking up on his arms and neck from your attention. You giggle like a teenager, vulnerable in a way that isn't sounding off alarm bells in your brain.

He's the beginning, middle, and end of safety, every emotion stirred up in your heart cared for with his gentle hands.

"Who needs the body's healing process when you can just kiss it better?" he teases before pinning you between his body and his bedsheets.

You scoff playfully. "Do those lines work with all the girls?"

He pokes his tongue at you before booping your nose with his index finger. "Hopefully just one, the only one that matters."

You think Jake may be your own personal bruise, an unexpected force that's affected every inch of your body. But you don't want him to fade, not now and not ever.

You wake from your dream to the sound of your phone's text alert. Jake's contact photo lights up your phone, but what catches your attention the most is the time on your homescreen. "Fuck," you mutter before leaping from bed. Your hands make quick work of rifling through your closet as a million more curses leave your lips.

You thought a quick hour nap before getting ready would quell your anxieties about the gala in question finally coming around the corner. Unfortunately, your anxieties also made you forget to set a damn alarm, and thus left you with only an hour and a half to get ready.

And the brutality of your nerves smacks you in the face as you scroll through Jake's messages.

J 🤍 [04:15]: Hey, pretty girl. Just in case you forgot and want to coordinate, I'll be wearing red ;)  J 🤍 [04:18]: Well, a red letterman jacket and a dress shirt. But red! J 🤍 [05:05]: Ok, a bit worried you haven't responded, but I don't want you freaking out about anything. You could walk in wearing a sack and you'd be gorgeous like you always are… J 🤍 [05:07]: I mean, don't come in a sack if you think that's too basic, but I'll love whatever you wear. Text me when you're on your way. J 🤍 [05:59]: Is everything okay?

"Damnit," you say before typing a quick response back to him that you're okay despite oversleeping. You end the text with a winking emoji and a heart that will ease his worries.

If only the little pixels could assuage yours.

The pit in your stomach from this morning was the size of a golf ball, manageable until you needed to sleep to take your mind off of its presence. Now, it's the size of a dinner plate pressing down on your ribcage with each and every dress you put on. They all fail to impress you, none of them doing the work of making your burdens disappear. One burgundy dress that falls to the middle of your thighs is passable, but you still want to punch a hole through the mirror hanging on your bathroom door when you see your reflection.

Even as you run heaps of makeup across your face and curl your hair, you feel like a clown that's missing the best parts of their costume. In the next second, you swipe too much lipstick on your upper lip and let out the wail of a wounded animal. It's ragged and spent, tattered from all sides.

At that moment, the first truth becomes an unmistakable blow to the stomach: every pretty garment and expensive cosmetic in the world won't keep you from embarrassing Jake. You will stick out like a sore thumb at that dinner, a stain over the picture-perfect moment he could have if you stay out of sight and mind.

In the next moment, the second truth appears: you won't be leaving your apartment tonight. You set the lipstick tube down on your desk and try not to dry heave, waddling back to your bed to disappear under the covers.

You'll break his heart for breaking your promise, but all you can do is hope he'll allow you to mend it. Maybe some part of him will understand there's a valid reason you missed it, one you cannot verbalize, but he recognizes under the layers of pretty words you'll use. That will be better than knowing the entirety of your excuse for blowing him off.

You don't bother wiping off the wreck you've made of your face or discarding the dress in the heap of clothes you've made on the floor. You toss and turn under the comforter, tears streaming down your face and hands clutching your necklace as the sun sets. Hearing the sounds of the outside world greeting dusk, you feel half your size but steel yourself to sleep with the knowledge it's better this way. It has to be.

Jake has tried to be patient. 

He knows he could not have been more reasonable and nonjudgemental as he watches your chest rise and fall in your sleep. Your figure in the throes of your slumber is so beautiful, especially when your fingers remain wrapped around the pendant at your throat. He swears to himself he could fall in love with you all over again tonight if he wasn't so disappointed and pissed off. And with those emotions too present in his gut to avoid, he knows you've worn his patience down to the quick.

He waited for a half-hour outside of the restaurant for you to show, biting the skin around his nails as each minute passed by with your face nowhere in sight. Texts went unresponded to, calls unanswered, even video chat requests went through dead air. He had half a mind to run away from the venue to make sure you hadn't slipped in the shower or something far more dangerous kept you from meeting him.

Throughout the entire dinner, he brushed the concerned questions from his teammates off and said you fell too ill to make it. The guys said nothing and continued on with the engagement, but Jake remained rattled through the rest of the night. When he said his goodbyes, he felt a small semblance of relief, because that meant he could drive straight to you for the answers he desperately sought.

He didn't expect to find you passed out. You usually greet him at the door with eager arms and peckish lips, but you were too fatigued and lost in sleep to hear him unlocking your front door and stepping inside. He was also floored to find your apartment in ruins, the place akin to a bomb going off in all directions that gave no clues as to what happened to you. So, all he could do was sit at your bedside and watch you, your eyelids and body twitching as you dreamed.

Jake's been patient long enough, more than understanding for you, the girl he loves, but now he needs some sense of direction that only you can provide.

Jake runs his thumb over the lipstick smudge on your cupid's bow, and he curses himself when your eyes flutter open. You look peaceful for a moment as you wake up, but your irises immediately flood with fear at Jake's presence and the darkness surrounding you both. "What time is it?" you ask.

"One on the dot," he responds. "I used the spare key in the plant pot by your door."

You rub your face and rise, shame flooding every part of your body. You ran through the cycle of chastising yourself and swearing you were doing the right thing a thousand times over before you passed out, but facing Jake is a new breed of raw. His hurt is palpable, especially in the quiet cold of the night. It pierces you long and hard when he asks, "What happened?"

You mumble, "Nothing looked nice enough to go out in." You shrug, balling the fabric of your dress between your fists. "And I couldn't come out and meet everyone like this."

"I think this looks just fine," he says with an incredulous expression, still tainted with pain but newly inscribed with wholehearted empathy. "Better than that, actually." 

Jake's hand comes to meet the side of your neck, brushing the gold necklace along your nape, and you bite down on your lip hard to fight the swell of emotion crawling up your throat. "I need you to talk to me," he whispers as you taste blood in your mouth.

You step away from him to grab your hamper, pawing at the heaps of clothing on your floor with trembling hands. If you can't control the conversation, the least you can do is make your house less of a war-zone. Anything is better than facing Jake head-on right now. "There's nothing to say besides that I didn't come and I'm sorry, I really am." You look at him directly in the eyes, forcing some confidence to rise to the surface. "Can we please just drop it?"

He scoffs at your question. "You stand me up, refuse to give me a valid explanation why, and think it's okay to ask me to drop it?" He makes you stop grabbing clothes from the floor by clutching both of your shoulders in his palms. "What is going on with you?"

You shake your head so fast it makes you dizzy. "I can't do this, Jaeyun. Please."

"Baby, I just need help understanding this, 'cause I'm so fucking confused right now." His arms run up your skin to rest on your face. "Is this about what happened the other day with Wonyoung?"

"Partly," you admit. You walk away from his touch again, but he follows behind you as you move around your small apartment. When you've done enough tidying up, you throw the hamper to one side by your bed, unbothered if the mess of clean clothes is now mixed with your dirty laundry. "How about I tell you how the night would have played out if I did show up? Your friends would've looked at me like a zoo attraction but tried to keep the peace by making small talk that means fuck-all to anyone. And no matter how polite or funny I was, they would've thought to themselves or said to their girlfriends by the end of the night that you're fucking insane for spending time with…"

The silence is impenetrable, charged with words you can't say but you hope Jake can make sense of without needing verbalization.

His face morphs in the quiet, seething.

"With what?" Jake invades your space, his quiet voice and stoic face chilling you to the bone. You lose all sense of courage to continue, but he quirks an eyebrow up as his eyes darken. "Finish the fucking sentence. With what?"

You swallow hard, terrified to say the words rattling around in your brain. You settle on something simple, but the two letters feel anything but. "Me."

The tears slide down your cheeks like knives, cutting you open for Jake to see. This is the moment that you've been dreading since the second he made a home in your heart. It won't go back to the way it was before, before every insecurity was laid bare.

"I'm fucking disgusting, Jake," you mutter with despair. "It's a miracle I've gotten past being terrified of you seeing me naked, but everyone in your life knowing that we're together would be too much because it's obvious that—" You choke on the words, the tears now coating your throat like poison. "I'm not meant for you, and you should be going out with someone like your ex, someone who's beautiful by every standard known to man." You laugh sadly. "Or maybe someone who meets even half of that criteria. But not—"

"Fuck you." He slams his letterman jacket down on the desk. A mixture of your makeup falls on the floor when the jacket meets the wood slab, but you barely hear the crack of your compacts or tubes of lipstick on the laminate tile. You're too focused on Jake's appalled and betrayed face to notice anything but him. "You have no right telling me who I'm supposed to be with, who I should want, who to love. That's nobody's business but mine. And you must think somewhat highly of yourself to think you can control that. Screw my friends' opinions or anyone else's." 

"It should! They matter to you."

"You matter more, more than anyone!"

He inhales a sharp breath as his eyes water. You thought his pouts broke your heart before, but seeing him worn down like this is true heartbreak. He's broken from how broken you are, and you wish you had the power to stitch him back together. Clearly, you've made a bigger mess than you intended to, and now there's no going back.

Jake takes a few short, tear-stricken breaths before saying, "Fuck I—I love you, okay? I love you so much that all of the criticism in the world is background noise when I look at you. You're the one person, the only person I've ever known, who makes time stop for me and my problems matter less. And you're so gorgeous I can't think straight sometimes." A hollow laugh escapes him, but you can't react to it properly. Not when you're crying as hard as he is.

"I wish you could see yourself how I see you, so much it kills me, but I can't do that for you. You have to see that for yourself."

You're stunned into complete silence, your heart denying his confession as your brain computes he's walking closer to the door, prepared to leave before you can find an adequate response. You don't find one in time as he turns the knob and prepares to leave.

Before he can, he says with a somber lilt to his tone, "I hope whoever gets to see the version of you who loves herself as much as I do knows they're lucky. Because that girl will be invincible."

The slam of your door is a gunshot, piercing your chest and staining your dress a darker shade of burgundy. You manage to grip Jake's jacket between your hands and hold it close, the only thing keeping your shattered heart held together being his scent on the fabric. What could you have said to keep him, to make him stay? How could you tell him you love him too despite all the disdain you hold for yourself being what drove him away in the first place?

Your cries converge with piercing screams, rubbing your voice raw until there's nothing else to do but continue sobbing silently in a ball on the floor with his jacket as your lifeline.

The last week has been hell, to say the least.

You didn't try reaching out to Jake the next morning when you woke up. You were too hollow, too shaken. At the same time, the last words he said filled you with a sensitivity you could not find words for, and trying to pretend that didn't happen would be disrespectful to both of you.

And, to make it worse, there was no outreach on his end. He didn't show up to class on Monday or Wednesday, and there were no messages or calls from him to springboard off of. What else could you do besides leave him be? Why else would he walk away from you the way he did, spent and out of chances to give, if he didn't want to be left alone?

Hours rolled into days of silence, both parties unsure how to break the now insurmountable block of ice. You felt like a coward with every passing day, missing him desperately in spite of your lack of words. The newfound hole in your chest, inscribed with Jake's name, could only be filled by him, and it grew wider while you waited for the day he'd return or for you to find the strength to undo the pain you caused.

You sweep the store floor with your aching heart, eager to end your Sunday shift in an hour and sink into bed once again. Without Jake, your routine has been heading to work or school, running home to eat takeout, streaming a movie to cry to, and passing out. It's not that dissimilar from the habits you had before he came into your life, but it's even more soul-crushing knowing the before and after of his presence is starkly different.

Just as you walk over to the counter to grab your dustpan to collect the dust, Felix and Vernon appear like phantoms near the register.

"Jesus Christ!" You immediately stick your broom in the space between you and the two men, and their eyes widen at your defensive stance. "How the fuck did you get in the store? We closed ten minutes ago."

"We bribed some blonde kid to let us in," Vernon responds, rubbing the back of his shaved head with a sweaty palm. Although he still looks surprised you're using a cleaning tool as a weapon, his voice is deadpan.

"Fucking Sunwoo," you mutter under your breath. "Listen, you guys might be great with lacrosse sticks, but I'm even better with this broom." You waggle it to prove your point. "So, you should get the fuck out before I knock one of you on the head."

"Please, just hear us out," Felix starts. His deep voice, thicker than his counterpart or even Jake's, stuns you. "J is miserable without you."

"Yeah," Vernon confirms. "He had to sit out of the game yesterday."

You're surprised your heart can still beat after being so perfectly decimated a week ago, but it breaks once again hearing about Jake's disposition. "The feeling's mutual."

"Okay. Then talk to him and say you're sorry, simple." Felix gives you a close-lipped smile, but it seems more forced than friendly.

Your brows furrow as your hand raises up to clutch the pendant close to your heart. "He's the one that left me."

"After you stood him up," Vernon interjects, pointing a finger out. Your lack of a response makes Vernon huff out an exasperated breath of air. Before he can say anything else, Felix cuts him off.

"We shouldn't have come, this is clearly pointless."

"Oh really?" You clench your fist around the broom, the curved plastic biting into your skin.

Felix's lips mold into a deep frown, hurt rather than anger coating every feature on his face. "You made judgements about us before we even got a chance to meet you—"

"Yeah! That's pretty fucked up, by the way. We wouldn't fat-shame you. We like curvy girls!" Vernon defends himself, and Felix fights the urge to smack his older friend upside the head.

"Thanks," you respond. The word on your lips is more of a question than a statement, but you appreciate Vernon's sentiment.

"And yet you were worried we would look at you a certain way," Felix continues.

"Is that so surprising?" you justify, eyes on the verge of watering.

Felix nods before responding with, "Because the things you were so worried about were built up in your own head. It wasn't Jake's or anyone else's doing."

You bite your bottom lip, unable to deny his declarations, but offended. "Tell that to Wonyoung."

"Won's a bitch to almost everyone. She doesn't count," Vernon counters, and Felix can't help but laugh a little and nod.

Felix turns serious again. "Jake loves you no matter what you think others see when they look at you, and if that isn't apparent by now, you're not the person he told us so much about."

Felix walks towards the entrance, and Vernon leaves you with some ultimate words of advice before following his teammate out. "Just…talk to him, please."

You feel like a kid with a stomachache, scolded for eating too much candy and expecting a different result. In a way, your reactions have been admittedly childish, despite every good intention you had keeping Jake on the outskirts of your worst self-critical thoughts. But maybe he wouldn't have shied away from you that night if you had been honest from the beginning about the fears you had beginning a relationship with him. Maybe you would have survived it, perhaps even thrived despite all the monsters insisting you two weren't fit for each other.

But that was the past. Now was undetermined, and maybe it could still turn in your favor.

Sunwoo steps into view after the two guys exit the store. Your eyes burn with ire for your younger coworker, but he raises his hands immediately and says, "I need a new hard drive, and they gave me twenty bucks!"

You let go of the irritation directed at Sunwoo and finally make work of picking up the dust from the floor. If anything, it reminds you of all that still needs fixing, especially between you and the boy you can't forget.

But it's all down to you, and whether you can put in the effort to dispel your own demons once and for all.

You begin healing.

On Monday morning, twelve-ish hours after seeing Felix and Vernon at work, you skip class and head to the university's counseling center. It's two hours of intake forms and appointment setting, but it makes all the difference in the world walking out of that office a few pounds metaphorically lighter.

You talk to Jungwon and Sunwoo in a coffee shop off-campus and unload the fears that have plagued you your entire life, their voices of reassurance being the first ones you've ever heard that allow the tears to lessen and the reality of your situation to settle on your body like a warm blanket.

"You're a human with anxieties," Jungwon says as Sunwoo rubs your back in circles. "You need support like any other person. It's not right to go through it alone."

And you don't. You sit with them through lunch and dinner, drinking coffee and acknowledging your mindset needs to change.

When your head hits the pillow that night, you go to sleep with the comfort of knowing you're taking the first steps to a version of you that's better.

Wednesday, you prepare to talk to Jake. You have the words picked out perfectly in your head, recognition of your mistakes and willingness to change littered throughout. Only he never shows, and your heart sinks. He certainly can pass without a few days of attendance, but if he's putting this much effort into avoiding you, is it too late?

Was this your penance, having figured everything out after getting it so irrevocably wrong?

The answer to the question comes in the form of a sweaty Felix on the cusp of dusk. He grabs your shoulder just before you can get into your car, the day's fatigue and sadness weighing down your bones.

"J's meeting his parents tomorrow for dinner at the Italian place across from the field," Felix says through ragged breaths. "He better look like a dog with a bone when I see him on Friday at practice or I will kick your ass personally, girl or not."

You chuckle, tears lining your eye ducts. "Thank you. Really."

"Yeah. Thank me after you talk to him. He loves you but you know as well as I do that he's a stubborn fucker sometimes." He gives a last nod for good luck before running in the opposite direction.

You park in front of the restaurant with two bouquets in hand and your anxiety shot to hell. Nerves entrench your body from head to toe as you walk into the place, too busy with the flowers to bite your nails.

Before, you would pick out everyone else's clothes and physiques compared to yours like a ruthless guessing game, the only players being you and your harshest critics. Do I look as hideous as I feel? Can everyone tell? Now, that's the furthest thing from your mind. All you care to do now is fix what you've damaged.

"Welcome to Maggiano's," the perky hostess says as you walk closer to the podium. "How can I help you?"

"I'm meeting a party of three. S-Sim should be the last name on the reservation." You stutter over your words. You're unable to see Jake or his parents in the sea of crowded tables under dimmed chandelier lighting, and it throws your confidence off even more.

She directs you to their table, a corner booth off of the kitchen, and you will yourself to make the trek over to them with the last of your strength. Jake's gaze remains focused on his parents, and it's a small kindness that you don't need to face him just yet.

His parents notice you first, and they smile kindly at you. "Hello there," the woman you assume to be Jake's mother says, eyes crinkling with a smile that is all too familiar.

Jake turns to meet the subject of his mother's attention, and a million emotions flash across his eyes like shooting stars when he sees you, brief but telling. Only pain remains when the surprise wears off, and you wish his face held any other emotion but the one you know so personally.

You smile at his parents politely. "I'm Jake's girlfriend. I apologize for being late, but I was busy grabbing these." You hand one bouquet to his mother, her face lighting up at the peonies wrapped in pink tissue paper. You give Jake his own set of flowers, yellow marigolds. "For tomorrow's game. The florist said they represent good luck, not that you need it."

"Thank you," he whispers, his voice hoarse but cheeks immediately flushing pink. He turns to his parents, the couple still surprised and happy to see you. You can only wonder what Jake has told them about you, but Jake cuts your wondering short when says, "Can you guys give us a minute to talk?"

His hand in yours as he pulls you away feels too right, too easy to fall back into. A thousand memories cross your mind as you recognize this may be the last time his skin touches yours. Sleeping in and missing class as the sun rose high in the sky. Nights after practices where you couldn't remember your name unless Jake was saying it in sighs and curses. And the last ones where you were the source of his disappointment.

Can the good outweigh the bad at this point? You can only hope so.

When you're a respectful distance away from the table, Jake stands in front of you with his hands nestled in his pockets. You can see him fumbling with his thumbs under the cloth, a telltale sign of nerves he doesn't want to show. "What are you doing here?"

You swallow heavy air, your gut tightening. "I came to apologize. I should have told you from the beginning that there were these terrible opinions of myself and my body image. And keeping them from you didn't stop them from coming, but I should've given you more credit. You never made me feel like I was unworthy of being with you. That was all me."

He nods, sadness tugging the edges of his lips down. "I know."

"I'm actually turning things around, believe it or not." You laugh, the sound filled with promise rather than desolation. "And it helped me to realize now that living behind a wall I thought kept me safe did nothing but hurt you, the only person I've ever loved, and I'm so sorry."

His face perks up hearing the last few words on your lips. You clutch the pendant on your neck for strength, and his face softens at the realization you're still wearing it. You never stopped.

"I love you," you confess, "the guy who fidgets with everything at his desk when he's bored, and even when he's not. I love you because it's heart-stoppingly cute when you talk about the atomic makeup of random objects just for fun. Because you're an incredible friend, a beautiful person, and someone I want to keep getting the privilege of knowing. You saw and loved me, past all the reasons I found to hate myself." Your words fall apart by the end, voice fragmented from vulnerability, but you continue. "And you may not be in love with me anymore, but you deserve to know that you are loved by me still, and I'm thankful I had the chance to—"

You don't recognize Jake is kissing you until he places both his quivering hands on your face, the brush of his lips on yours being everything necessary to heal the hole in your heart. It's so unexpected, but essential for you to breathe again. Jake kisses you like he knows it too, like he feels the same ache inside of him that needs repairing with your help.

Tears run down your face until you taste saltwater on your tongue, but you don't care. You refuse to waste another second without him. Home is here with him, with all of your ghosts revealed.

Jake pulls away softly. "I missed that," you confess against his lips, water still trickling down your face.

"Me too," he affirms, his own wet lids reflecting in the lights of the chandeliers. "I love you."

You giggle, relief flooding your body. It's cool water over parched earth, saving a being close to the brink of ruin. "I love you more."

Jake laughs too, shaking his head like you've said the silliest words known to humankind. "Not possible." He tucks his hand under your chin before kissing you again, his lips the only salvation you'll ever need.

His dad whistles at the two of you, and Jake begrudgingly lets go of your face. "Lovebirds, we need to put in our order!" he yells from across the restaurant, and almost everyone in the room laughs. You can't fight it, laughing too into Jake's suit jacket as he holds you close.

Tonight, you don't mind the spotlight, especially with Jake nearby.

The ride back to your apartment is so long it feels like you're suffocating with every minute that remains of your ETA. You try abiding by the traffic laws and staying in your lane, but you may die if another stoplight keeps you from taking Jake home. "Patience," Jake murmurs with a smirk, rubbing small circles into your outer thigh.

"Coming from you, that's ironic." You squeeze your thighs together for friction, and Jake chuckles to himself. It's unsurprising the way your body reacts to him and his words, both charged with electric currents you've gone without for too long.

The way up to your apartment is tense, only for the fact you're trying to listen to his earlier warning of patience and not pounce on him the second you both walk through the doorway. He sets the marigolds on your kitchen counter with a shit-eating grin, one that makes it even harder to maintain composure. "Beautiful flowers from a beautiful girl. How did I get so lucky?" He pulls you in, the notes of lavender and sage from his cologne tickling you to the core.

"It helps that you're beautiful also." You hide your face in his broad chest, your necklace rustling against his dress shirt. "Thank you," you whisper into his clothes.

"For what?" He rubs your back soothingly, the responding words easy to release when he's holding you so delicately.

"Not giving up on me when you had every reason to."

"I could never," he admits. He pulls your face away from his shirt to run his fingers across your cheek, adoring you with the simplest touch. "Just wanted to make you squirm a little longer."

You mock offense with a hand to your chest. Jake chuckles and kisses the corner of your mouth. "So mean," you taunt.

"You haven't seen mean, pretty girl." Jake brushes your hair away to kiss the nape of your neck, making you shiver. Trailing his lips down to your shoulder blade, he bites down on the curve of it to elicit a yelp from you. He eagerly swallows the sound with his lips, tongue entering your mouth without protest from you.

Jake knows all the ways to make you acquiesce, to fall deeper into him without thinking of looking back up. He makes you want to live in his touch like a second skin, and it's clear he feels the same when he holds you tight against his body.

Jake's thigh rubs your core through the front of your dress, and you whimper against his lips. He moves you both to the bed, slowly undressing you with reverence and soft kisses to each piece of newly revealed skin.

Once you're naked, save for your underwear, he sits up on his knees to admire the view. You don't shy away or cover yourself, too restless to touch and be touched to feel timid. And there are still too many clothes on him.

You tsk. "Not fair," you mumble, but you make quirk work of unbuttoning his shirt and pants with keen hands. You kiss the pulse point at his neck, his chest, and the tuft of hair below his belly button. By the time you're done, his flush cock poking your thigh and your cunt pulsing with need, you're both shaking with desperation.

"Sit on my face, pretty girl," he whispers.

You giggle, breathless and dazed. "What?"

"You heard me. I've been without this pretty pussy for too long," he emphasizes his point by moving your panties to the side and running his finger through the wetness along your folds. You're already breaking, and he treasures that. "I want to show her how much I missed her."

You both get comfortable, you positioning your legs on either side of his head and Jake running his hands along the outside of your thighs. You hover above his lips, scared to truly suffocate him between your skin, but he immediately slams you down onto his chin and makes work of lapping at your cunt.

His whimpers and whines match yours, his nose bumping your clit with every drag of his tongue along your core. It's like he's never tasted it before, the way he's lapping so vigorously. A starved man waiting for his last meal, so desperate yet so giving. Jake runs his tongue around your hole before sinking it inside, his eyes rolling back at the essence gathering on his tongue.

"Fuck, so sweet," he gasps, "My beautiful girl's dripping down my chin. I love the way you taste, you know that? You're amazing."

You nod, moaning wantonly, without true acknowledgement of his words. He retracts his lips from your cunt, and you whimper at the loss. "Say it, beautiful. I want to hear you say how amazing you are."

Jake teases his tongue along your wet walls again, and you buckle down against his face, riding it harder. "I-I'm—oh shit mmph—I'm amazing."

He hums in pleased agreement. He goes faster, bumping your clit with every quick lick and suck. You thrash with the encroaching release your body ardently craves. It wraps around you with each press of his mouth and tongue, and you want to let him take you to the precipice. "I know you're close, beautiful," he whispers into your mound, drunk on the feeling of your body at his mercy. "Be my good girl and come all over my face."

You do as you're told, crying out as your orgasm takes over your senses, endorphins washing over you in expansive ripples. You ride it out until the waves calm to a steady sea, your body wholly and utterly boneless. "Ah, fuck," you breathe out once you come down.

Jake repositions you so you're resting in his lap, his aching cock leaking pre-cum at the sight of your essence soaking your thighs. He presses kisses all over your face, not bothered by the sweat coating your forehead and cheeks. "So beautiful."

You flush, glowing under his praise. Without warning, he sheathes himself fully inside of you, your wetness making the glide effortless. There is still some give, your walls clenching around him as he slides in like he's finally back where he belongs.

"Oh fuck. You're so tight, every time." His head bumps the headboard as your pelvic bones brush, his hips flush with yours when he sinks you further down his cock. "I've missed this—fuck, missed you—so much."

"Me too, Yunnie. So much." Your body bows, taking him in completely without complaint.

"Think I'd die if I didn't get to feel you wrapped around me again," he babbles, lost in the feeling of your velvety walls encasing him. They flutter around him as you begin riding him, your movements slow but calculated to induce tremors. And he feels it, every touch of your hips against his, your slick thighs against him with each time he bottoms out. It's hedonistic heaven, a serene oasis he wants to drown in.

He groans into your chest before sucking one of your nipples into his mouth. You keen, arching your back into him deeper as you slam your hips down onto him. "Bounce on me, baby," he says, releasing your nipple with a pop before teasing the other one with his tongue. "Show me how much you've missed me."

Under his spell, you cater to Jake's every whim, rocking against him harder and grinding faster to push him closer to his release. He bites down on your collarbones to muffle his cries, the pleasure overloading his senses to the point he needs to occupy his mouth and hands with something else. He kneads your breasts as he sucks and licks the skin of your upper chest with care when it blooms a dark color under his lips. "So perfect, and all mine," he mumbles, rutting underneath you, creating stars when you close your eyelids.

"Fuck, Jaeyun, I'm gonna come again," you mewl.

"Me too, pretty girl. Come with me."

You fall together in pieces, the beautiful parts of both of you intermeshing until you're one again. Jake groans as his semen fills you with warmth, ropes of cum spurting out until you feel both of your releases seeping down your legs in droplets.

It's happiness, a passion so pure shared between two people sheltered from the outside world with their intensity.

It's perfection, the way Jake loves you so well. All you can do now is pray he knows you love him just as much, if not more.

Jake wraps himself around you, encasing you tightly after you exit his lap. Your thighs burn, your skin is sweaty, but you feel lit up from within Jake's arms.

"You look happy," Jake says finally with a dopey grin, chest rising and falling.

Once upon a time, you would've brushed his words off with a quick kiss and witty comeback to hide your denial. Now, you don't deflect. You take him and his words with acceptance, knowing for the first time that his words go beyond the surface, their truth undeniable.

"I am."

This time, you step out of the car.

You nod at the respective girls waiting for their boyfriends as you rest against the passenger side door of your car. Your clothes aren't as revealing as theirs, but that's okay; someday you will be ready to be as confident as them, but the first step was exiting the driver's side. "Progress," as Felix would say with a teasing smirk and elbow to your side.

The girls all smile and acknowledge you, but Winter, Felix's girlfriend, waves back with a jovial energy that makes you wave back. Your heart swells thinking about how close you've gotten to Jake's friend group in only two months, even when you believed you would be shamed or outcasted for your appearance. Sometimes, you kick yourself for believing they would repeat the history of taunts and teases you know too well. Building armor was necessary years ago, but now, you can disarm without fear of judgement.

Sure, people like Wonyoung will continue to exist, and the doubts will always fester somewhere in your head like unpickable weeds. But you can dispel both with self-affirming words and kindness now, no longer weak to the worst skeletons in your closet. You're stronger, for both yourself and the boy you love.

There's not a lot of certainties in life, but one promise you can keep without fail is never coming so close to losing Jake again.

Like clockwork, Jake and your mutual friends walk off of the field with their gym bags in tow and sweat drenching them head to toe. Felix's newly dyed red hair is practically the same color as their practice gear, and you chuckle at the sight.

Hearing your voice, Jake's eyes lock on yours. He rifles the stray bangs from his eyes almost to confirm it's you waiting for him and not an apparition. His ensuing grin is so bright it can put the moon to shame, as usual.

"Whoa, guys," Jake says with a flourish, raising both of his arms to stop his friends from moving further across the parking lot to their significant others. You roll your eyes as you smile, shy for all the right reasons. "That's my girlfriend, right? Or am I seeing things?"

"Can you not be so down bad for her in front of us, Sim? It's gross," Felix teases, but he smiles in your direction when you wave to the guys surrounding your boyfriend.

"Whatever, cherry bomb. Tell Winter I said to go easy on the Splat next time." Jake slaps his friend on the shoulder before running towards you, his gym bag swinging in all directions while strapped to his shoulder. His teammates holler at their captain for his eagerness to be next to you, but neither of you care.

You both may be out of the shadows, but you still feel like the only two people in the world when you're with each other, onlookers and inner critics be damned.

"Hi." Jake says when he makes it to you, his body a few feet from yours. He drops his bag at his side before intertwining your fingers together, his hot and moist palms making a home in your cold ones. "You look beautiful."

"You look sweaty." Before Jake can compose a rebuttal, you slam your lips into his, teeth clashing as your tongues meet. Jake kisses you back earnestly, sounds of pleasure muffled against your mouth. He rests his hands on your hips as your fingers weave through his hair, scratching your nails along his scalp. His lips taste like salted caramel and fatigue and home, and it makes you fall in love for the thousandth time. "But I'm still into that," you say with a grin when you pull away.

"Oh, really?" His smirk reminds you of all of his kisses, his touches, and his love that has brought you here. And today, for the first time in a long while, there's no fear at all. No doubt creeping in to keep you on guard or tell you the happiness is temporary.

It's just peace.

"Always."

── .✦ 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 (𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗟𝗬 𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘):

@xylatox @tinycatharsis @filmnings @lovetaroandtaemin @gyubookeries @jaylaxies @innocygnet @anormieee @lollipop3 @fancypeacepersona @luvksnn @k1ttyjwon @hii01mii @nithxhoon @cutehoons02 @invsomnixa1 @lilyofthevalley6 @mossarine @blooqz @firstclassjaylee @seongiewon @rairaiblog @jakessrealwife @bbokaricentral

© 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗜𝗞𝗘𝗨; 𝖣𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒, 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍, 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾, 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗀𝗂𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗓𝖾, 𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖿𝗒 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝗌!

[f1cflcfic]

Won't Say I'm In Love (SMAU ft. Lando Norris) - part xvi

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader; past carlos alcaraz x fem!reader

summary: As a general rule, y/n does not date athletes. You've been there, done that - would not recommend. Besides, you definitely don't do love. There's no time in the world for complicated feelings when there's a career Grand Slam to be won. But what if your heart just refuses to listen?

genre: social meda/mixed au, friends to lovers, tbd

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons

series: part i, part ii, part iii, part iv, part v, part vi, part vii. part viii, part ix, part x, part xi, part xii, part xiii, part xiv, part xv, tbd.

bonus: one, two, three, four, five

a/n: sorry everyone, i got sick again!

July 11-12, 2025

[Excerpt: BBC Sport Commentary]

“And now, it’s Y/N L/N serving for the championship. Only three women have ever managed to win a Season Slam, and Y/N is well on her way to do so if she can hang on to her serve here. It's - oh, in the net. Her second serve hasn't been great on grass, but it's gotten her this far [...]

Oh and there it is! What a historic moment! Her first ever Wimbledon title, and what a beautiful way to win it. A great passing forehand that Sabalenka could've never reached in time. And what a terrible end for the Belarusian who's been so strong all year, who had an opportunity to win this match at the start. But it's L/N who fought her way back, and turned the momentum around.

Just look at the disbelief and joy on L/N's face, as she makes her way to her coaching team and family. Her parents, who are always incredibly nice, by the way. Who sometimes don't come because the nerves get too much, but who find the prospect of no family support 'way worse'. Her coach Kim Clijsters, whose best result here was a semi-final. Oh, and there's a long hug for her friends, including Lando Norris, Formula One Driver and currently leader of the World Championship as well himself. Now, she makes her way back down to the court -- oh and there's a cheeky wave at none other than Sebastian Stan -- where she will receive her trophy momentarily."

July 13 - 15, 2025

[Excerpt: Post-Win Interview with Y/N L/N]

"What an amazing turn-around! How did you manage to stay so focused?"

I didn't, ha! I think it's very clear that I lost my cool for a little at the start. But it was also a way for me to get those frustrations out and clear my head. You know, Roger Federer said that you are lucky to win 54% of the points you play. So I tried to tell myself - okay, it's just a point. It's just one point. That's always been my philosophy, but it's hard sometimes to stick to it. I'm lucky I found a way to do so when it mattered most.

"Grass has been historically a difficult surface for you, but this time you challenged yourself to also play doubles. How will you make sure that you're well rested to go for the hard-court season?"

Grass is definitely more challenging for me. It's more physical, more demanding. But I also kind of love that about it? It's why this was extra meaningful. And add to that the home crowd, it's magical. I gave it my all, but that also means I'm going to need to take some time to relax and switch off for a bit. Not super long, I'll be playing Cincinnati and I'm excited for that! But definitely will book a holiday before then.

"You haven't booked anything yet?"

Well, my sister's getting married first, and that's a location wedding already. But then I wasn't sure of course how I'd do at Wimbledon either - so I wanted to wait and see. It's going to be a last-minute decision, I fear."

"Maybe Romania? It'd be a great excuse to ask Sebastian Stan for some tips."

I think I'm happy to keep my celebrity crush just that - a celebrity crush.

[Excerpt: Transcription of YouTube Video "Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri Create a Summer Playlist"]

"Okay, so we're just about to head into our summer break, and we thought it'd be nice to leave you with some of our favourite tunes."

"Well, mostly mine, since Oscar has questionable taste."

"Just - it's niche," Oscar argues. Lando rolls his eyes good-naturedly.

"Sure. Start us off then, why don't you?"

"How about Life is a Highway by the Rascal Flatts? A little bit of country. A little bit of Cars, perfect for a summer roadtrip."

"Solid choice, let's add Running Around by Ely Oaks."

Oscar nods, then frowns as he tries to think of what should come next. "Alright, maybe - you like Lizzy McAlpine right? Do we need some slow songs?"

"I do like it, but maybe it's not very summery? Let me have a look at my own Spotify," Lando says as he whips out his phone, frowning in concentration.

"See, I might have niche tastes, but he's the real snob here," Oscar mutters. "He makes these elaborate playlists for his friends, then refuses to take their input."

"Oi, I heard that. See if I gift you another carefuly curated selection of hits," Lando chides, before turning back to the camera. "Okay, I recently listened to Talk by benny blanco and Selena Gomez."

"Never heard it, but I trust you. Maybe some Bad Bunny? That's good for summer right," Oscar asks with a shrug. Lando nods, smiling.

"Yeah, Osc. Straight from my playlist to yours. I'll also say All I Know by Rudimental and Khalid."

"Let's finish it off with Tate McRae's Just Keep Watching, a little Formula One film special," Oscar closes with a cheeky wink.

A/N: Roland Garros was a fucking fever dream this weekend. What a match between Coco and Aryna, and then again on Sunday between Jannik and Carlos!! Chef's kiss tennis. I know Carlos Alcaraz is a questionable character in this fic but please know that I actually adore him.

♥ likes, comments, reblogs and asks are always very much appreciated - i love chatting and hearing your thoughts! ♥

taglist (open): @linnygirl09 @julesbog @midnight-and-books @sarx164 @obxstiles @freyathehuntress @vhkdncu2ei8997 @berrnuu @lightdragonrayne @glow-ish @batsratswrites @blushmimi @colmathgames2 @esw1012 @sadiemack9 @tremendousstarlighttragedy @awritingtree @its-elias-world @sarah-thatstings-ann @jessicanotta @fairyjinn @destinyg237 @verogonewild @annimausi @taetae-armyyyyy @jkoooooooookie @coral7161

[naneun-no]

Ahhhh, I’m actually tearing up. I love them so much. Hobi’s eyes 🥺🥺🥺

Can I go off about something for a moment?

Everyone going on about how they haven’t aged, they never age, blah blah. I disagree.

I think part of what makes this month, and the moment above particularly, so cool and special is that you can see that they’ve aged. They’ve grown. They’ve matured.

They mean even more to each other than before, and we mean more to them, and they mean more to us. Idk, I’m getting sappy but it’s true. A lot of us “grew up” with BTS, or at least spent formative years with them. I found them in my twenties, a decade I’m now, (reluctantly, excitedly, nervously) leaving behind. And so are they. They served in the military, some of them on the front lines, some of them fighting through immense mental struggle, and they made it. They’re here. We’re here. Not every idol, not every young person, is fortunate enough to grow old.

Yeah, their muscles grew, and we wanna go on about that, and I get it — but so did their smile lines. And that’s good.

I don’t want to hear about how Jin never ages, I don’t want someone to pretend they can’t see the way Jimin’s eyes and cheeks have extra lines when he smiles, how Jungkook’s face has lost its slender youthfulness and it probably won’t ever get it back, how Taehyung’s entire demeanor is that of a grown man. Namjoon has circles under his eyes. Hoseok sure as hell is stepping into a more mature era (lol). Yoongi…(okay maybe Yoongi looks the same, his genes are insane).

But my point is, they’ve grown. They’re both the same and not the same young men they were before — and there is something so emotional to me about seeing them standing on that balcony, waving. About the clip of them all dancing to mic drop. About Hobi and Jin forgetting the steps to DNA. They don’t look like some fresh, rookie group anymore. They might look a little camera-shy, after all these months, but they don’t look unsure. They look rooted. They look like they know who the fuck they are, and they know that in part because of the true north of each other’s presence in their lives.

You don’t have to listen to me, say what you want, but — I would love it if we stopped saying they haven’t aged. I know people don’t mean it like that, I know they see it as a lighthearted compliment to say “you haven’t aged at all!” But they have. They have aged!! And so have you, and so have I, and you know what, aging is beautiful. Aging is a privilege. I want to see these seven men on a red carpet at 80, slow and wrinkled and sun-spotted, and know that they lived full, difficult, connected, meaningful, joy-filled lives. And I want that for myself, too, and no amount of societal shaming disguised as a compliment is going to take these hard-won smile lines from me.

They look older. And it looks fucking good on them.

MY HEART!!! IM CRYINGGGG

[diana-bluewolf]

To the queer HL community. 

I just want to remind you how beautiful you all are. Every single one of you. The queer part of the fandom has been in the shadows since the start. But what has always made me feel proud of you all - the way you pour your souls into what you love, no matter how outnumbered you are. 

When I see a person who is struggling to fit in, who is bullied or when others just don't support them but they still keep doing what they believe is right and what they love - I can't help but admire it deeply. 

What I've been hearing a lot lately - that "holy wrath" of the haters. They are loud. They somehow know exactly how others should live.

It's difficult to listen to yourself when everyone around you is yelling (have you ever noticed how wise people almost never yell?) about what they think you should do (have you ever noticed how wise people don't give unsolicited advice and are focused on what THEY themselves are doing rather than others?).

Thank you for being you, guys. Friendly, kind, supportive people who love what they do, enjoy it, and also uplift, support and inspire others. Our little community is small, yet tight because of it. You help queer people of the fandom being heard and not feel lonely. You, guys, make the difference. The haters - don't. 

Sadly, I don't have the resources to word it less awkwardly, and English isn't my native language anyway, but at the end of the day, all I want to say is - thank you so much for being you.

[xneens]

── .✦ tom riddle crashing out in his dorm after finding out his crush didn’t use amortentia on him ⭑.ᐟ

abraxas malfoy was beyond perplexed as he watched his dark lord lay face down on the dorm floor, groaning continuously into the cold marble. for a previously composed, moody, and intelligent heir of slytherin, tom riddle was … difficult for the past two months. ever since she arrived.

he hadn’t blamed his lord when he wanted to get to know the girl, after all she was breathtakingly beautiful, a pureblood, and had appeared whilst in the middle of ancient runes fighting a cloaked man, killing him with a spell unknown to any wizard. of course, tom riddle would want to know her after hearing dumbledore beg the headmaster to allow her to continue her studies at hogwarts.

no, abraxas knew that was what his dark lord would want need to do. anyone who’s whole future was to become powerful and immortal would be clawing at the opportunity to get to know a mysterious, devastatingly beautiful, kissed by the gods, woman.

what he didn’t understand was how far riddle had taken his “research” on the girl. how he had went from walking her to her door—“i’m a prefect, malfoy, it makes sense and courteous of me to do so.”—to accompanying her on picnics with gryffindors. gryffindors for god’s sake! from pairing up with her for projects—“i’m keeping an eye on her, see what she knows.”—to sneaking out to watch the stars at the astronomy tower with her.

rosier had once made a pass at her, and when she had flirted back, riddle had called the knights for a meeting where he crucio’d rosier until the sun had came up. the rest had to clean up the blood pooling around their fellow friend.

his lord had came to them, yelling as he clutched at his chest. “she poisoned me! she must’ve drugged my tea with amortentia when i was not looking!”

everyone exchanged glances, malfoy suffering from constant whiplashes with his master’s mood swings.

“my lord, she’s smart, but i don’t think she would have the—“ nott started, shutting up as soon as riddle had focused his anger at him.

avery jumped in, not wanting to spend another day cleaning up blood like muggles. “surely she couldn’t have used amortentia without you noticing, my lord. you don’t miss such things!”

the group nodded, half terrified, half anxious.

“she’d had to!” riddle had yelled, pacing around the dorm. “i feel—these revolting emotions surface when she comes around, she plagues my mind, and even my body, my body, reacts to the scent of her perfume!”

the knights had taken turns being crucio’d that night.

abraxas knew his master had been investigating the girl, so he had been more than aghast to find his lord groaning on the floor. for half a second, he wondered if the girl had done something to him, but quickly dismissed it when he saw riddle’s wand in his hand.

he stepped slowly into the room, clearing his throat. “my lord? … are you alright? have you been harmed?”

tom stopped groaning, though stayed face down on the floor as the other knights came into the door, dumbfounded by the sight.

“ ˢʰᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ’ᵗ ᵘˢᵉ ᵃᵐᵒʳᵗᵉⁿᵗⁱᵃ “ riddle mumbled into the marble floor, body limp and unmoving.

rosier tilted his head, brows furrowing. “my lord, what did you say? nott could not hear.”

nott threw him a glare before turning back to their master, concerned and frightened.

abraxas watched as his lord stood, taking a deep breath, casting a silencing charm before screaming into the room. it was raw and fervent, as if he was letting out years of pain into it. everyone flinched, waiting for a crucio to be casted, whether on them or the other.

the knights had reached new fears when their master waved away the silencing charm and laid back down on the floor, staring at the ceiling.

“she didn’t use amortentia.” riddle repeated, closing his eyes briefly. “i watched her for days, every movement, my eyes never left her. i’ve looked at her wand, looking for an intimacy spell but found none. i’ve searched her belongings, nothing came to fruition other than her love for pearls.”

everyone stayed silent, lestrange on the verge of cracking a smirk as he watched his feared lord have a crisis over a girl.

tom riddle didn’t have to say the words out loud for everyone to understand. they all witnessed as their lord stood back up, took an usually long shower, and exited the dorm without another word.

meetings became less and less until they longer happened. abraxas observed as riddle spent more and more time with the girl, knowing the look in his eyes as he’d seen in many couples before. he studied how his master had spent the next years courting her, witnessed when riddle had asked for her love in the astronomy tower.

abraxas and the rest attended their wedding, surveying how their master pledge his allegiance and love to her.

riddle had disbanded their group when they graduated, and though the knights had been disappointed, abraxas couldn’t find it in himself to feel dismayed when she and tom asked him to be the godfather to their daughter.

[loveemagicpeace]

🎨🪞Sun signs & things🍹

Cancer people are susceptible to accidents in the home. They are also prone to becoming victims of theft. Cancer, which is ruled by the Moon and has water as its element, can be likened to the shifting tides of the oceans. Like the tides, Cancer is the sign of powerful forces moving under the surface. That surface, however, is quite difficult to penetrate, for Cancerians tend to build up an elaborate array of defenses to hide their deep feelings and extreme sensitivity.

Gemini people are prone to accidents while traveling, especially by air. Their fickle natures also tend to arouse unexpected anger in others, the depth of which Geminis often misjudge. Gemini people do not sit back and watch the scenery go by. As a Gemini, you are endlessly curious about everything and must be part of the busy passing scene. Duality is your most famous trait. You usually want more than one of everything. Things get very dull for you unless you have a constant change of scenery. Variety is your game.

Taurus people have a tendency to get involved in violent situations that have to do with love or money. They often antagonize others and incite the passions of lovers because of their stubbornness and possessiveness. Your greatest strength resides in your tenacity and steady, relentless drive. You look for permanence in career, love, marriage, and home. Living with you isn’t always easy. You can be dogmatic, secretive, stingy, opinionated, and suspicious, and your silent manner may conceal feelings of envy and rivalry.You like to entertain those you are fond of.

Aries people are susceptible to harm from fire and sharp instruments. They are also prone to accidents involving high speed, and tend to get into violent and dangerous situations. Since your nature is to express power, you treat opposition as an annoyance to be brushed out of the way. You are a natural leader who exudes self-confidence. Happily, you are also generous about helping others in a crisis. You have an uncrackable optimism. If success is not immediate, you tend to lose interest and go in search of other excitement. You can be very impatient. You like to be in charge—you want to control your own projects and plans and not be under anyone else’s thumb.

Leo people tend to be bombastic and challenging, ,and often unknowingly provoke others into impulsive violence. They are also prone to being victims of slander. While others wait in the wings, you bask in the spotlight. You don’t have to look for a role to play in life. You’ve found it. When you enter a room you secretly hope everyone will stand up. When real life does not supply all the excitement you need, you try to create your own. Your public image is very important to you. You have an unshakable belief in your luck and quickly bounce back from despondency.

Virgo people sometimes arouse anger and violence in others because of their tendency to interfere, their critical tongues, and their unemotional attitudes. Your emotional life is a constant striving to bring order out of chaos. Although you have a great capacity for love, love alone is not enough for you to be happy. The Virgin stands for purity of purpose. You have higher motives. You want to be of use. You have an excellent memory, an analytical mind, and are known for crystal-clear thinking.

Libra people tend to stir up ill feelings from others in situations having to do with love. Because they are indecisive and sometimes make a declaration of love too easily, Librans both anger and disappoint lovers. They also have a tendency to be fickle and faithless. You’re a born charmer. Ruled by Venus, goddess of love and beauty, you admire loveliness in all its forms, in music, art, decoration, and people. Your energies are focused on melding and combining with other people; you are at your best in personal relationships. You get along harmoniously with people who are even-tempered, particularly those who can laugh in the face of difficulties. You love new projects, unusual people, different ideas, and you’ll travel anywhere.

Scorpio people evoke anger in others by their secretiveness and jealousy.Their sharp, stinging tempers can also enrage others to the point of violence. You live on many levels. While you present a calm and smiling face to the world, you’re ferociously persistent and extremely strong-willed. Basically, you always have a hidden agenda. You’re someone of in- credible depth and brilliance, and your inner psyche is a labyrinth of wheels within wheels, boxes within boxes. When you control you are safe. The unevolved Scorpio tries to control other peo- ple and manipulate situations for its own greed. Above all, you seek to give your life a meaningful pattern, to find a deeper purpose. The complexity of your mind makes it difficult for you to skim the surface; you must uncover what lies beneath.

Sagittarius people are subject to accidents of fire and explosion, especially while traveling. Their strong desire for freedom may also incite jealousy and possessiveness on the part of a lover. Independence is your guiding principle. You are progressive, restless in spirit, eager to get on with the business of living—a free, adventurous spirit who thrives on new ideas and constant change of scene. Sagittarians rarely talk about their feelings—they talk about what they think about their feelings. One reason is that you become bored doing the same things, and boredom is your worst enemy, but another is simply that you must move on— and up.

Capricorn people -Other people may harbor hidden grudges and resentments because of Capricorn’s coldness and reserve. Secrets from the past are often used against Capricorns. As a child of Saturn, you need something to improve and to perfect. Your active mind quickly grasps ideas, and you have an admirable ability to concentrate. You think of yourself as a real person in a real world that allows little time for idle pleasure-seeking. In certain ways, Saturn is an austere and strict parent that lives inside each Capricorn. Essentially, you feel you can depend only on yourself. You yourself must allow the spontaneous part of you to play and run.

Aquarius people are innovative, unconventional, and sometimes eccentric, and are therefore often targets for attack by narrow-minded people. Aquarius also have a tendency to get into unusual situations and take up with oddball individuals. You refuse to compromise or give an inch. You’re a strange mix of an avant-garde thinker whose opinions are written in stone. You can be objective in judgment, for you don’t let emotion get in the way. Your gift is for dealing with all kinds of personalities from every walk of life, no matter what their station or status. Many Aquarius go into politics or become involved in social causes.

Pisces people have a high susceptibility to alcohol and drugs. They are also easily drawn into unpredictable situations and to unbalanced people. Many astrologers say that Pisces is a link to the spirit world and that you who are born under this sign are old souls, for they believe Pisces to have experienced other lives in the past. Your symbol, two fishes tied together swimming in opposite directions, represents conflicting emotions and desires that pull you to and fro. You’re intensely imaginative and addicted to make-believe, and you strive to create a world that comes closer to your own unique vision. You’re a big bundle of feelings. You feel intense joy and happiness when you’re involved in a creative project or a loving relationship. You’re a big bundle of feelings. You feel intense joy and happiness when you’re involved in a creative proj- ect or a loving relationship.

-Rebekah🧚🏼‍♀️🌊🌅

[1un4z]

♡ Last Scene ♡

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

Pairing: Felix x afab!reader Genre: smut smut smut. No minors pls  Summary:  You are a seasoned actress starring in a Kdrama with Lee Felix, you are finally filming the last scene for the show until you realise that it will all really be over soon... Wc: 1.8k  Enjoy reading <33 If you want any specific ideas tell me and I will see what I can do!  A/N: Got this request from one of my friends! there might be a pt 2 where there is a proper conclusion lol ig we shall see, hehe this was fun to write, needy Lix is so cuteee :3

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

These past couple of months have been hectic but so fun. This is my first time filming where I have bonded so closely with a co-star. Lee Felix. I remember when I saw his beautiful face for the first time. His aura seemed so warm and inviting, he was so lovely to everyone on set and always went out of his way to buy me food and walk me home after shooting. 

Usually, when guys do this to me it seems like they have some sort of hidden intention but not Felix. It felt so refreshing to bond with someone so genuine and pure. I tried to keep my professionalism intact but there would be times where I could stare into his gleaming eyes forever. Felix was such a good actor that at times it felt like it was just us. only us. 

The last scene was intimate and intense, wrapping up the series where the main characters finally get to kiss properly. Felix was acting very out of character today, avoiding my gaze, even in the elevator earlier, he was nervously fidgeting adjusting his air pods and ignoring me. I wanted so bad to ask him what was up but I didn't want to pry, so I just waited silently in my makeup chair, until it was time to shoot the final scene. The last scene was a dream-like field scene filled with flowers and warm lighting. As the production van arrived, everyone started spilling out, setting everything up diligently. Me and Felix stayed in the van together on the small sofa closing our distance. Felix was still avoiding my eyes, his breath hitching every time I moved slightly. I couldn't stand this awkward tension, I've been filming with him almost a year now and have never seen him so shy and fidgety. I finally glance directly at him making him freeze up once more.

"Felix are you okay..? you seem a bit tense today.." I say calmly looking at him with a slight worried expression.

Silence.

He shuffles slightly on the sofa, clearing his throat eventually. 

"Yeah, I'm fine just didn't get much sleep I guess.." He responds voice deeper in octaves than usual. 

"I also-" He gets suddenly cut off by someone shouting our names to come out to film the scene. He huffs and then turns to me smiling warmly. "We should go y/n, you know how they get when we're behind schedule." He laughs dryly holding the door for me as we walk out. The wind hits my face instantly. It's cooling my nervous, warm body and not too strong to ruin our freshly done hair and makeup. We stand in place, continuing the last scene where we left off, holding hands in the field as we walk through together. The characters finally get their happy ending.

ACTION.

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It was time for the ending shot, The kiss. The director told us to make it special and romantic. This was the final ending scene, I needed to put my all into it. Kissing wasn't a issue for me usually when shooting, but Felix's yearning eyes ,almost too real to be just acting, made it difficult for me to focus.

Felix leans closer as I do, pushing aside the nervousness I feel. The wind flows through our hair, dancing perfectly for the camera. 

He grabbed my waist swiftly, pulling me in even closer lifting my chin up to look up at him with his other hand. His grip was strong but uncalculated and messy, He was shaking as his chest rose up and down with anticipation. I smile staying in character pulling him closer to me leaning into his lips until-

CUT.

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The director looks at Felix confused and sighs. 

"Felix what's going on? you're visibly shaking it's even worse on camera!" He shakes his head massaging his temples. 

"I'm sorry sir, I don't know what's gotten into me.." He replies frozen, clearly embarrassed. 

"15 minute break, get it together and regroup, I need this last shot to be perfect!" the director yells alerting everyone as they start to mumble and disperse taking coffee breaks or adjusting their equipment.

I lean over to Felix, seeing his cheeks tinted with red tensing his jaw with his arms crossed, 

"We could've done better with more practice", I say whispering smirking up at him. 

His face grows more red as he bites his lip, walking away quickly embarrassed, running his hand through his hair trying to ease his tension. He goes into our shared van slamming the door. It was getting a bit darker but the director felt this could add some intensity in the scene with the correct lighting. I nod listening intently to the director. He walks away briefly to have a smoke. I walk towards the van to grab my water but as I reach for the handle, I hear my name echoing in the van.

Felix's POV:

I can't believe I fucking embarrassed myself in front of everyone like that. In front of her. He slams his arms into the dressing room wall leaning his head softly sighing. She looked so pretty today.. too fucking pretty. He's been thinking about you all week, finally waiting for the day where he can kiss you. He aims to tell you how he feels at the end of today, but he's been a nervous wreck the whole day. I need her so bad.. he pouts down looking at jeans already rock hard just thinking about you. He's been hiding his erection all day worried to even breathe next to you. If only you knew what you did to him. He groans unzipping his jeans as his dick bounces out fighting against his underwear. He fists it slowly biting his moans back. As he gets faster, so does his mouth, mumbling incoherently as he thinks about your cute ass when you purposely bend over in front of him, testing his gentleman - like attitude. He loves when walk in front of him on the stairs and your skirt rides up, giving him a nice view of your thighs. He needs his head between them. He needs to please you. "y/n" spills out of his mouth multiple times, hanging onto every moan that falls out with it. 

I hear my name muttered on a string, Felix sounds distressed... or more. I open the door seeing Felix against the wall with his hands fisted into his cock. You can see his heart drop as he starts to panic shuffling his dick away quickly.

"Shit shit I'm sorry y/n" he responds rapidly blushing almost crying because of the embarrassment.

was he moaning my name? why..

"I'm so fucking sorry I forgot to knock and I heard you say my name and I got worried and-"

"It's fine y/n.. I'm just now really humiliated.. this is so fucking embarrassing." he says sighing running his hands through his hair clearly agitated by himself. I close the door quickly behind me. I look at him with need. He sits on the sofa leaning back trying to ease his stress but his bouncing legs gives everything away. I walk sitting next to him, as I attempt to read whatever his emotions are right now.

"Lix..." he turns his head towards me nervous for my next words.

"Come closer.." I say looking into his glossy eyes. His Adams apple bobs, as he shuffles slightly closer. 

"Do you want to practice for the last scene..it might make you feel a bit less tense?" I say directly leaning closer to tease him. I can feel his heat radiating off his body. He adjusts and groans as I  finally notice he's hard again. That was easy.

We edge closer to each other quickly as his breath hitches when my lips almost touch his. 

"Come here handsome.." I say smirking confidently seeing him in this state. I grab his jaw softly looking into his boba eyes deeply. I've never seen his pupils this dilated. His hands shake trying to hook onto any curve of my body, clutching on so tight and possessively as he thinks you'll try to leave him. 

"You're making it hard for me to stay calm y/n.." he whispers voice getting even deeper, eyes darkening.

I kiss his neck, giggling lightly from his constant twitching.

"Please.. I need you so badly." 

I move up hovering against his lips until I crash into them passionately, pushing him more against the sofa. He wraps his arms around me groping my ass and kneading my thighs immediately. I feel his tongue knock on my lips to be let in as he enters with such aggression but so soft at the same time. This time his hands weren't shaking. 

We pull apart, both panting like wild animals. I can feel Felix rut his hips against me as he pokes me through his jeans groaning every time.

"I'm so lucky.. I've been dreaming about your lips the day I met you", He slides his thumb across my glistening bottom lip. "So beautiful.." Felix mutters not breaking his eye contact.

"Kiss me again princess, I need you so bad.." He pleads whispering in my ear with his sexy deep voice. 

"Please baby" He pleads again kissing my collarbone tenderly.

I bite my lip trying to hold back my noises. I need Felix so badly too..

His touch growing more possessive he looks you in the eye with a pouting, puppy-dog-like look. I can't resist that look ever. He looks so pretty.

I grab his face leaning in and climbing to sit right above his bulge making him grab the pillows beside him, knuckles turning white.

We both lean into the kiss once more, I feel up his arms as he flexes underneath me. His hands sneak under my top touching me so eager like he was trying to memorise my body. It felt like if we didn't kiss now, we would never kiss again. We melt into each others touch, yearning for what we have been patiently waiting for. 

Unexpectedly, the door swings open, the director puffing his last bit of his cigarette. His face warps into shock, confusion and inspiration all at once. Me and Felix break apart, fear hitting us as the cold wind from the outside hits us instantaneously making my goosebumps poke out.

"Cut?" says the director smirking shaking his head.

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[theyearningghoul]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by the wonderful and cool and rad and talented @thequeenofthewinter Thanks bestie! 🥰 Also I already posted this in the Emmrich server, but I liked it a whole lot so y'all get it too 😈💕

Featuring: sad Emmrich reminiscing while Rook is in Fade jail :(

Dinners in the Lighthouse used to be a merry, communal affair. The large table would be heavy with food—various dishes from all over Thedas found their home there, lovingly curated and prepared by this eclectic group of such differing cultures—and the air would be heavy with laughter, stories, and good-natured teasing. Their shared dinners now held no such mirth. The atmosphere was cold, quiet, and bleak; and instead of a representation of connection and nourishment, the food was nothing but necessary fuel to power their impractical endeavors. It was difficult to believe that the tense silence of that dining hall used to be filled with anything other than nervous dread. But Emmrich remembered. He remembered how his Magdalena and young Davrin used to liven up the dining hall with their bawdy barroom limericks, smiling and slurring and slinging their arms around each other as everyone giggled over their drinks at the show. Though, as the night would wane so would her energy, and Emmrich had to coax her away from the revelry with a gentle yet insistent hand at her back as she whined and pouted up at him. Once they’d leave the dining room, his Maggie would quickly forget her pouting and instead focus her attention onto him. She would always end up throwing her arms around his neck, or grabbing his hand in a fierce and possessive interdigitation, and would then pull him downward to press wet, enthusiastic kisses to his cheek and neck as he walked her back to their quarters.  “Hey, handsome—you single?” She’d giggle into his neck while he held up the brunt of her weight, making him smile.  “Most decidedly not,” he would tut. “I have a charming, devastatingly beautiful woman to call my own.”  “That’s a shame.” She’d sigh and roll her head against his shoulder dramatically. “Because I would climb you like a fucking tree.” Heat would flood his cheeks, and he’d smirk. “I’m sure you wouldn’t get very far in your current inebriation.”  “Wanna bet?” She’d whisper, breath hot, with a nip at his ear.   Now, Emmrich often forwent dining in the kitchen entirely and took his meals alone, under the guise of continued research and experimentation. He wondered if all of his meals were resigned to once again be this lonely.

I wrote like 2k words today instead of working 🤫 lol yay! so... that means a new chapter of Immortally Yours tomorrow 😏

Low pressure tags, just sayin' hi 🥰<3

@guacamolleee @velvet-apricots @redheadsramblings @caughtnyact @paramortality @pseudospaceship @silshinobii @the-bear-and-his-sunbird @spare-coffin @holdingontojupiter

[ruhitsblog]

OVERTAKEN STARDOM

I’m fat. Not chubby, not round, not “cuddly.” I am obese. It’s not something I have ever tried to hide, or deny. My body is my body, and I accept it for what it is. But it makes acting difficult. The fact that I don’t even *try* to look attractive doesn’t help either. I wear ratty clothes that hang off me, and a cap over my messy hair. I’ve always been this way; when I was younger, I worked in factories or warehouses. Now, though, I work as a janitor at a movie studio. A low-key job for a low-key person.

I wish that I could say I love my job, but it’s just work. It’s not fulfilling. And it’s boring. So very boring. I don’t have any real friends here, because people don’t really talk to me. They might nod as we pass each other in the hallway, but they don’t try to get to know me.

The only good thing about my job is watching the actors rehearse their scenes. It’s the highlight of my day. Especially if there’s an action scene. Or a dramatic monologue. Even seeing them block out the choreography for a dance number gets me excited.

I want to act.

It’s a pipe dream. I know that I’ll never get a chance to be on screen. And even if I did, who would want to see my face? I wouldn’t want to see my own face up there.

But still... sometimes, late at night when I’m lying awake, I imagine myself being up on that stage. Delivering those lines. Dancing through that fight scene.

Of all the actors I watch, I think about KJ Apa the most. He plays the role of our main character: the dashing hero of the story. I can’t believe how handsome he is! He’s lean and muscular, with thick black hair that frames his heart-shaped face. His skin is smooth and perfect, unblemished by even a single scar. His lips curve in a perpetual smile, even when he’s playing a sad scene. And his eyes are bright blue. Bright enough to blind you if you stare at them too long.

KJ has a bad reputation here. He shows up late. He forgets his lines. Sometimes he doesn’t bother to memorize them at all. He’s always distracted. Always messing around with the crew, or his co-star (the lovely Camila Mendes). He’s always getting scolded by the director. He just laughs it off, and keeps going.

One time, he showed up drunk during rehearsals. Another time, he fell asleep in his chair while they were filming. Everyone here loves him anyway, and I can understand why. There’s something so charming about him, even though he seems completely irresponsible.

And then there are the times when he shows up naked. Sometimes, he’s fully naked. Other times, he just has his shirt off, or maybe just his pants. Once, I saw him with his pants down, his bare ass hanging out for everyone to see.

No one seems to care. In fact, they seem to enjoy it. Everyone laughs, and the camera operators start snapping pictures on their phones. I’ve seen the director grope his butt a few times too.

I’m not sure what to make of it.

Last week, the director announced that filming would stop early. A couple of hours later than usual, but still early. No one complained; we’re all excited for the holiday coming up. As soon as the announcement came over the intercom, people started packing up. After the shoot as I was works ng I found kj apa's locker room open them I found his muskky and sweaty jacket I was so arrowsed of his smell that I slipped naked and tried to put his small jacket on my huge body but as I  to put it I noticed that my body seems to adjust to its size and I felt strange like I was loosing weight and gaining blonde hair on my bald head and muscle mass and all of my fat was disappearing in seconds and my dick was becoming larger too I was feeling my bones cracking and popping as my body was adjusting to its new form and I look at the mirror

and I saw not the reflection of the old fat man I used to be I saw the beautiful young man that kj apa is and his face was mine but I still had my memories and personality. I looked in horror as I realized that I became into kj apa without a trace of my former self.

I knew that I had to act like him but I don't know if I can do it but as i look in the mirror again I notice that my eyes were different, they were darker and more intense than before, I knew that this will help me to pull off his act. So I decided to try and see what happened.

As I walk outside the building I was stopped by several crew members and directors they asked me where the hell I've been and that I missed the last scene but I didn't knew what to say so I apologize for missing it and I promised that won't happen again. And then the director told me that we'll be doing a re-shoot tomorrow and that I need to learn my lines better because yesterday was a disaster. I knew that this would be harder than I thought. But I decided that I would give it my best shot.

I went home and spend the night trying to learn my lines and reading the script over and over again. I barely slept at all. By dawn, my head was throbbing from lack of sleep, but I still had all the lines memorized.

When I got to the set that morning, I was ready. I walked confidently onto the soundstage, waving at everyone. They greeted me back cheerfully, and everything seemed normal.

For the first few scenes, everything went fine. I delivered my lines perfectly, and the director gave me high praise. Everything was working exactly as planned. I was able to mimic KJ’s mannerisms and speech patterns pretty well. And with his handsome face and body, I couldn’t ask for anything more.

But then things started to go downhill.

I began to feel horrny after seeing so many beautiful actress so I finished my lines and grabbed some girls  and let them to my trailer and starts to fuck them so hard that they moan and begged for more as u cummed into them I realised that this was the life I wanted and not the life of an old man.

I had to take a break to get changed into a new outfit. As I left the set, I saw the director talking to Camila (my co-star) in hushed tones. They were both looking at me worriedly. I didn’t understand why.

When I got to my trailer, I realized that I’d forgotten my script in the dressing room. I turned around and headed back. That’s when I saw KJ Apa unconscious there. Naked, with his dick hanging out. My dick. *My* dick

I hid him under the bed then I packed him in a big bag and carried to my new home and tied him in the basement there can't be two kj apa , I am the only real kj apa

  Days went by and kj apa wake up and understood everything but the fake kj apa rapped him every day and let him suck his own cock then he fucked him deep and fast making him scream in agony

   Months passed and the real kj apa lost his mind and became the sex slave of the fake one and the movie was a great success and no one noticed any changes in the actor and he kept fucking women every day. And no one noticed anything.

Years went by and the fake kj apa got married with Camila mendes and he kept fucking her and making her pregnant every year and he became one of the biggest stars in hollywood and he never stop fucking women and he never stop fucking the real kj apa his sex slave.

   And the real kj apa died alone in the basement of the fake kj apa house and his body was buried in the backyard where he built a new toilet for humiliating him and  no one never found

[dags-over-caravans]

WIP Wursday

Thanks for the tag @woundedsoul12 💕

Feeling the need to treat myself to something sweet, so let’s WIP Rookanis kisses 😘

Some background: Rook has read Spite the William Carlos Williams poem this is just to say, so Spite wants to taste plums and Lucanis finds a sweet way to indulge them all.

Basically: what if the “commit to a relationship scene” with Lucanis was more… fulfilling? (650 words)

flourless dark chocolate plum cake

She enters into the Lighthouse dining hall and finds Lucanis, his sleeves rolled up, an apron tied around his waist.

“What’s all this?”

“Ah, Rook, your timing is impeccable. I was just about to start tonight’s paella but there’s — well, I have something to give you. First.”

“For me?”

“Yes,” he husks. “Come here.”

There is a large, lovely chocolate cake; its tempered surface glistens in the Fade-light.

“You made this for me?”

“There’s enough for everyone. But, yes. I wanted to do something to thank you for… for everything, Rook. It isn’t much, or — it isn’t enough. I still don’t know how to apologize for… everything.”

He has a better explanation for the cake: “It’s flourless — dark chocolate and plums. I know that chocolate is your favorite and Spite has been bothering me since your little poetry night to taste plums. It was… difficult to find good ones. Bellara helped me to hunt these down.” (He remembers how Bellara’s eyebrows had arched, how she’d then squealed with delight as he’d blushed then, too.)

“Would you like to have some now?” He is already picking up a knife to slice the beautiful cake.

“And ruin my appetite? Very naughty of you, Lucanis.”

He smirks. “I think we have earned the right to a little indulgence. Here, we will share a piece to whet our appetites and Spite can taste plums.”

He lifts the small plate between them. He holds a fork out to her.

“You first,” he prompts.

She leans forward and closes her lips around the fork in his hand. Her eyes slide closed as the richness of the chocolate and plums envelopes her.

She smiles at him, rolling her eyes in exaggerated pleasure, as she chews. His eyes are pinned on her mouth for a moment.

He turns to set down the plate and when he turns back to her, his eyes glow with purple fire —

Spite reaches for her, wrapping their hands around her waist and pulling her in against them. One hand sinks low, the other up between her shoulder blades, the demon presses their lips to hers.

Spite hums, moving their mouth against hers. “Rook,�� they breathe into her.

When she parts her lips for them, she can feel the way the demon rumbles, deep in their chest — the vibration of them resonates deep within her own chest.

“Mmmm.” They taste the plums on her lips, on her tongue.

A few blinks, and Lucanis’ warm brown eyes return.

He leans down for another kiss. He lingers. He cups her jaw in one hand, thumb ghosting over her cheek.

His eyes dart to the side and he frowns — a familiar crease between his eyebrows that he wears when he is listening to Spite. He chuffs a cursory laugh.

“Spite wants me to tell you that they wanted to ask your consent first. But I thought you might like the surprise.” The crow’s-feet the edge his eyes are crinkling, sweetly.

“I did,” she confirms. “Thank you.”

“And the cake? You liked it, too?”

“Delicious,” she hums, and arches to kiss him again.

(The way that Lucanis sighs into her is —)

“I hope that isn’t our dinner that you two are slobbering all over.” Davrin interrupts them. They break apart, all blushes and smirks and coy glances.

“I should start the paellas,” Lucanis admits, his regret plain.

The paella is delicious and as Rook enjoys another piece of chocolate plum cake for dessert, between sips of coffee and fluttering, furtive glances at Lucanis, she is reliving the press of his (their) lips to hers.

And with wonder, she realizes: a future is unfolding before her, one that not only includes Lucanis Dellamorte, but one in which Lucanis wants her.

[honorhearted]

Female laughter never got old, and most especially since it was rarely earned in his presence -- or at least, whenever it wasn't at his expense. Biting back a smile, Benjamin ducked his head, hiding his gaze while the room was momentarily filled with genuine mirth. That was a sound he was still growing accustomed to. Screams and pain had been the norm out on the battlefield, so to hear that love and warmth, and joy still existed was both surreal and a comfort.

"I can assure you, I don't tend to lose my tongue around children," Benjamin promised. "One of my best friends is a whaler -- a seaman -- so his language is vastly colorful. I'm afraid it rubs off on me every so often."

A shift overcame Anthea's gentle eyes, and Benjamin prepared himself for the worst. She shifted in her seat, leaning forward before offering her condolences.

For a moment, a flutter formed inside Benjamin's chest. He always fell prey to flattery when it came to Samuel, no matter what was spoken. In many ways he'd admired, revered his younger brother, and looked to him as the shining beacon he could never even dream of becoming.

With a lump in his throat, Benjamin softly affirmed, "He was...yes. A very wonderful man. In time, I hope I can be even half the person he was." Here, he inclined his head. "Thank you, Miss Whitford."

She hummed, considering his earlier query. “I have read many of Shakespeare’s works, and seen them acted out. I can’t say I’m talented enough to decipher poetry often, except through music, but I attempt to."

"It's not for everyone," Benjamin allowed, "but I certainly enjoy the beauty of a good poem. Sometimes, I take it upon myself to assign poetry to my friends..." Here, he appraised Anthea with a newfound interest. "We have only just met, so I'm afraid I can't speak a poem with confidence in your name, but give me about a week...perhaps a fortnight, if this proves truly difficult -- and I'll come up with a piece that matches your temperament."

A bit embarrassed, he chewed his cheek. Caleb and Abe, in particular, often teased him for being so sentimental and sensitive, though they'd appreciated it when he'd assigned them both the poem "The Ass and the Flute." He doubted they understood the meaning, so much as the fact they enjoyed saying ass over and over.

Clearing his throat, he added, "I'm rather fond of A Midsummer Night's Dream. Though in college, we were required to perform the more political works, like Cato...which...is not Shakespeare, of course."

Anthea's eyes flashed with an impish sheen, and Benjamin blinked rapidly, a bit perplexed when she leaned toward him. Had he said something to merit such a look?

“Considering where you are, who we both are, what you’ve been part of, and why you’re here, I shall make a bold move," she announced. "I would extend my hand in friendship, if you will permit me."

Benjamin opened and closed his mouth a few times. It was admittedly a bold move -- one he doubted her father would approve of -- and with a soft, self-conscious little laugh, he affirmed, "I will permit it, of course...so long as no one comes calling for a duel in your name."

A chaperone would be needed for this friendship, of course, but he felt no need to draw this to Anthea's attention, lest he embarrass her. Nevertheless, her entreaty was rather touching -- he'd never had anyone offer to lend an ear before, even his dearest friends. Caleb, Abe, and Anna weren't exactly the type to wear their hearts on their sleeve, and he'd always striven to be more like them in that regard.

Anthea extended her hand across the table, palm up and waiting, expectant.

Mouth dry, Benjamin hesitated, then laid his hand over top of hers in a gentle clasp. Giving it a proper shake, his expression warmed as he affirmed, "Then we are friends...for better or for worse. Though according to my friends back home, that will undoubtedly be 'for worse.'"

Hearing Benjamin swear wasn’t surprising, so much as it happening during a job interview. Anthea knew he’d spent years with cantankerous men in camps and battles, so it was understandable. Nevertheless, it caused her to let out a rather unladylike snort of laughter, which she reflexively covered up with one gloved hand. Once she was mostly under control, she replied with barely reined in amusement, cheeks rouged once again.

“No need to apologize. I’ve heard worse things spoken at my father’s card table. A teacher may turn heads with oaths, but outside of your occupation, I see no harm in speaking unguardedly. Around me, at the very least”.

After a moment, she shifted to a more solemn tone, thumbs twiddling idly. “I am sorry for the loss of your brother, Mr. Tallmadge. At least you have fond memories of him to keep with you. If you’ve been learning by his example, then I’ve no doubt he was a wonderful man”. It was meant as a compliment to Ben, and Anthea could only hope Charlie would follow in Benjamin’s footsteps.

“I have read many of Shakespeare’s works, and seen them acted out. ‘As You Like It’ even had a delightful song he wrote lyrics for. I adore it, but can only remember one part. I can’t say I’m talented enough to decipher poetry often, except through music, but I attempt to”. A thought occurred, and she lit up as she leaned further towards him. Her eyes glittered in hope and a hint of mischief.

“Considering where you are, who we both are, what you’ve been part of, and why you’re here, I shall make a bold move. I would extend my hand in friendship, if you will permit me. I promise not to pester you with too many questions, if I can help it. I’d be happy to lend a hand, should you ever require assistance with anything. I am still learning proper, high-society etiquette, but I endeavor to be useful, regardless. You could use me as an emotional outlet, or discuss stories and the like. Whatever might please you. In return, perhaps your rebellious nature could be of use to me. I offer this no matter what may happen from here on”.

She knew he needed more allies in England. Not caring if her chaperone might see, Anthea held her hand across the table, palm upward. Her gaze remained fixed on Ben’s.

[intermundia]

i think one of the most infuriating things about using the Force would be the fact that in order to reach out, you have to instead open yourself up and let it in. you must make yourself passive, in order to be active, you know? to see what is really out there, you have to allow yourself to look, which means pausing and offering up your attention non-judgmentally in order to take in the world before you act upon that information. you have to get yourself out of the way, because when your thoughts and anxieties are in the way, you cannot see past them. they are a shield blocking you from seeing the moment, and a filter that leads to motivated reasoning, seeing what you want to see instead of what is really there.

so in a high stress environment, when there is much on the line (fear) or innocents are being harmed (anger), the ability to actually take a second and put aside those feelings in order to understand the situation better and actually be able to fix things is no mean feat. you have to be able to simultaneously detach so that you can focus and act in the best interest of everyone with full awareness of the risks and benefits, while remaining deeply engaged and compassionate for everyone involved. it's not easy, it's not about ego and glory and pleasure, it's about loving the world enough to be an agent of peace no matter the cost. that kind of altruistic discipline would take a lifetime of study, and i think is so deeply admirable as a concept.

[once-in-a-blood-moon]

You know what? I wouldn't put it past Solomon to want to ask you to become immortal or to find a way make himself mortal. (Not with how he's been acting in Nightbringer, hello! 😆)

There would definitely be more hesitancy to ask you to do something so life altering as becoming immortal like him. I think he would wrestle with the fact that you'd be subjected to the same fate of watching the years drag on, of witnessing your homeland become unrecognizable, of watching your loved ones pass while you remain forevermore. But you can bet that if you chose this, he'd never subject you to the same life he lived -- by filling your days with adventure and never ending magic. You'd never wake up to an empty bed, you'd never celebrate a birthday alone, and he'd do his best to never allow any darkness to slip into your life. The rainbow pastels that represent him would always stay swirled around you, enveloping you like a blanket straight from the dryer. Solomon's come to learn that immortal life can be soft and comfortable with the right person, and as your ever dutiful master, he'd be sure to teach you as well.

On the other hand, who's to say this man hasn't already been researching if there is a way to reverse immortality? What if he has a potion concocted and stored away safely, waiting for the right moment to drink it? Because if all goes well with Diavolo's exchange program, and there is (relatively speaking) peace and stability between the realms, then maybe he'd see no reason to stick around and continue to be humanity's protector. His life's goal would be complete at that point. Humans would be viewed as equals by both angels and demons alike, because where there is peace, there is solidarity. And there just wouldn't be enough of a threat to be concerned, not one that the sorcerer's society couldn't handle on their own if it came down to it. So perhaps by then it would be time for him to retire, properly grow old alongside the one he loves most, and live a life of normalcy -- a life where he finds his own peace and stability in you.

In either scenario, Solomon intends to keep his word. He'll find a way that allows you both to live out your days together. However that may look, no matter what it takes. Where you go, he goes.

[murakamijeva-muza]

For Women Who Are Difficult to Love by Warsan Shire you are a horse running alone and he tries to tame you compares you to an impossible highway to a burning house says you are blinding him that he could never leave you forget you want anything but you you dizzy him, you are unbearable every woman before or after you is doused in your name you fill his mouth his teeth ache with memory of taste his body just a long shadow seeking yours but you are always too intense frightening in the way you want him unashamed and sacrificial he tells you that no man can live up to the one who lives in your head and you tried to change didn’t you? closed your mouth more tried to be softer prettier less volatile, less awake but even when sleeping you could feel him travelling away from you in his dreams so what did you want to do love split his head open? you can’t make homes out of human beings someone should have already told you that and if he wants to leave then let him leave you are terrifying and strange and beautiful something not everyone knows how to love.

[m0rbs]

If you could only show someone one episode of any Star Trek series what episode would you pick? :)

That one where Spock's tits are huge and it looks like he just forgot to wear his binder

[front-facing-pokemon]