#these are all four completely different endings too

[narryffdreaming]

A TOAST TO THE FUTURE — FOUR (II)

Summary: Aurora and Harry used to be friends, but life happened and they grew apart. Now, 6 years later, they meet again.

Rating: +18

WARNINGS: The story contains explicit language and mentions a past abusive relationship (mostly the consequences of psychological/emotional abuse). Some chapters also contain explicit sexual content.

PART FOUR: 21k words (I) - 11,2k words (II) - 9,8k words

PART ONE || PART TWO || PART THREE || PART FOUR (I)

"Okay, I'm good," Aurora says, standing next to Megan and behind the couch. 

Ahead of them, all of their friends are already out there, near the water. Listening to music, drinking, and chit chatting while soaking under the Italian weather. 

"And thank you, by the way," she adds. "I'll owe you for the rest of my life."

Megan laughs and shakes her head, then turns to look at her. "Don't be silly, it was nothing."

It wasn't, though. 

Because when Aurora hesitated to leave the bedroom, Megan was quick to catch on her nervousness and stay behind with her. And she was also kind and sweet when asking if Aurora wanted to talk about it, or if there was anything she could do to help. 

Then, when Aurora shared that she was self-conscious about how she'll look in her clothes, Megan was also empathetic of her situation. She seemed to understand it isn't just about her body, but also about what all those clothes represent to her. Because Aurora doesn't feel the same as when she was in her twenties and started dating Zack, so she doesn't want to wear clothes that will make her feel like that old version of her. She wants to move forwards, not backwards. She wants to be better, not go back to being the same. 

So Megan stood behind and helped her feel more comfortable about herself, supporting her decision of wearing the colorful one-piece she'd bought instead of the bikini Maddie had packed for her, and then even offering her own linen shirt for Aurora to wear on top of it. Which, as it turns out, ended up being a great idea, and the last push she needed to feel that boost of confidence inside her. 

"You look incredible, by the way," Megan says.

Aurora looks down at her feet — her bare feet — and smiles. "Thanks."

And she means it. Because, truth be told, right now Aurora feels good about herself. Her legs are out and her boobs are definitely about to get some sun — as they deserve — but that doesn't mean she's half-naked. Her stomach is still covered, and her bum isn't completely out in the open. Besides, that shirt's making everything way more comfortable.

"Shall we?" Megan asks. 

"Yes." Aurora nods. "Let's go, c'mon." 

Megan leads the way, then, while Aurora follows her closely. 

Once they step outside, it's easy to say that it's the most breathtaking view Aurora's ever seen. Despite the coastline being at sight, it feels like they're completely by themselves, surrounded by nothing but water while facing the sun and the different shades of blue that blend in the horizon. 

Lucy, Ava and Maddie are sitting by the pool, while the boys stand by the swim platform — Theo and Niall facing the yacht, while Jayden, Daniel and Harry face the horizon. 

A shirtless Harry, though. 

A shirtless Harry facing the horizon, with his bare back fully exposed to her. 

And although Aurora tries her best to appear nonchalant and unaffected, it's hard not to feel her legs wobbling, or her mouth watering up. Because those black shorts he's wearing are really short, and there are so many muscles popping out that she wouldn't believe him if he said his body is built the same way as anyone else.

"Baby! Moonshine!" Niall cheers, raising his hands. "Finally!"

Everyone turns to look at them, and Aurora slows down slightly, almost hiding behind Megan. 

"Took you long enough," he adds, opening his arms for his girlfriend. 

Aurora watches as Megan smiles and rushes to him, hugging his waist while he holds her shoulders and kisses her temple. 

It's cute. 

They're cute. 

So Aurora smiles, too.

And then she just stands there.

Awkwardly. Not really knowing what to do with her legs. Or with her hands. Or with herself. 

She glances to one side, admiring the blue horizon, and to the other one, appreciating the coastline one more time. And then, she faces forward, and her eyes automatically land on Harry. Again. 

He's turned half-way towards her, drinking beer while glancing at her feet, then running his eyes up her legs, drifting from her knees, to her thighs, and her hips. She doesn't know if it's intentional, like before, but it doesn't seem so, because when he gets past her chest and neck, then finally meets her stare, he widens his eyes and chokes. 

He actually chokes — just like when they were in the car and she teased him about speaking Italian. Coughing and leaning forward while hitting his chest. 

And yet… It's not just like when they were in the car, is it? Because now the boys are quick to tease him and laugh at him. And because now Aurora feels the heat spreading through her cheeks, and the nervousness taking over her belly. And because now it doesn't feel like just a friendly joke, because apparently Harry got flustered for getting caught. And because he got caught checking her out. Checking her body out. 

So instead of acknowledging what happened, now Aurora pretends not to see it. And not to hear what's being said. And as she pretends everything is normal, she turns around and walks towards the girls. Knowing very damn well that, at the same time, there's a new feeling lingering inside her. Like a tingling. A feeling that's running through her veins, and that's making her anxious to see what could come next. Or where it could end. 

That tingling is growing. And it's getting serious.

Aurora can't explain it, or put it in words, but she feels it in her bones.

She's sitting on one of the steps leading to the swim platform, where everyone is just hanging around. 

Her lungs are full from ocean air, and the wind keeps whipping her hair, but it also makes the sun on her face feel less aggressive than it felt earlier in the afternoon.

Harry's sitting right in front of her, by the edge of the platform. Bending one leg at the knee and the other falling to the water while he hooks his arms around his thigh. His stunning smile seems to shine brighter than the sun, and once in a while she can see him slightly turning his head to look at her, or maybe just peeking through the corner of his eyes.

And as she talks to her friends by her side, or as she watches Lucy, Maddie, Ava, and Theo finally jump into the water, she knows she's been glancing at him non-stop, too. Because she can't help it. It's like someone casted a spell on her and she's now hypnotized.

The worst part is that Harry isn't even trying. He just keeps listening and nodding at whatever Daniel and Jayden are talking about, occasionally throwing his head back in laughter or being loud and goofy for apparently no reason. His dimples keep showing up as he speaks and smiles, and every time he laughs, his mouth falls open and his eyes wrinkle. 

The image of him being that happy is breathtaking, but the sound of his laughter astonishes her. It makes her heart beat faster, and to hope for him to sit next to her and give her all of his undivided attention. 

Earlier that day, Aurora fell asleep on his chest. Harry held her between his arms, and gently took care of her. She melted into him, more than once. She felt his fingers against her skin, and his lips on the top of her head. She remembered how tender and affectionate he could be, and she's still aware that everything she could think about when she woke up from her nap on the plane, was how cozy and warm she'd felt when cuddled by him.

However, hours later, Aurora finds herself watching him from a new perspective. One that doesn't take away what she already knows about him, but only adds more valuable information. It just makes him look even better in her eyes. 

And she knows she's never paid this much attention to Harry's body. Not like this, anyway. In all the years they spent together, she never observed him too much to actually know what anything besides his face looked like. Not only because the opportunity never came up, but also because she never thought about looking at him like that. So she has no idea if this is how he's always looked or not, but right then and there, Aurora is convinced Harry is bloody fucking hot. 

He is drinking beer, and everytime he takes the bottle to his mouth the muscles on his arm flex. He is also chewing gum, and the movements of his jaw are absorbing. The veins on his neck keep popping out, and his broad shoulders keep bringing up the memories of the many times she has hugged him and rested her chin on top of them. 

In all of those "many times", not even once it crossed through Aurora's mind the idea of hiding her face into his neck, breathing him in and kissing every inch of skin she could reach. But right then and there, it is all she can think about.

For the first time in too long, Aurora feels flushed. 

Actually flushed. 

And she has no idea what to do with that. Because it's becoming very clear to her that different parts of her body are suddenly awake, and that's all because of him. 

All because of Harry. 

Harry!

"Can I ask you something?" Megan asks, taking a seat next to her. 

Aurora jolts slightly, blinking as she shifts her eyes to her friend and nods. "Yeah, sure." 

Megan bends her legs and hugs her knees, turning her face towards Aurora and murmuring as she asks, "Is there something going on between you and Harry?"

Aurora widens her eyes. "What? I mean, why?"

"I don't know," Megan murmurs, making sure the conversation stays only between them. "I hear him and Niall on the phone sometimes, so I kinda figured something was up. But then today I saw the way you look at each other, and y'know, everyone's just been joking about it all day… So I thought… Y"know."

She shrugs.

Aurora bites the inside of her cheek and nods, taking the information in. She doesn't know how they look at each other, but she's aware that they've been doing it a lot. And she didn't actually hear what the boys said when they were teasing him, but she knows it happened. Just like she knows the girls were teasing her. So, yeah, she gets where she's coming from. 

And yet, there's one piece from that weird and unexpected puzzle that Aurora can't make sense of, so she asks, "He talks to Niall about me?" 

Megan smiles, and nods. "I mean, they're always talking about you… But… You didn't know that, right?"

Aurora shakes her head.

"Yeah, I should've figured… I mean, from what I heard and—Oh my God!" Megan widens her eyes and grabs Aurora's arm. "Rory, I don't usually go around telling people's secrets, ok? Especially Niall's. I'd never do that. I swear."

Aurora chuckles, stretching her legs and crossing one ankle over the other. She takes the opportunity to glance at Harry, who still seems pretty entertained with whatever Daniel is saying to him.

"Don't worry about it," she says, looking back at Megan. "What do they talk about, tho? I mean, what is there to talk about me?

Megan withdraws her hand and places it back on her lap, then peeks at Harry and curves her lips into a smile.

"I find it very sweet, actually," she says quietly and softly, then looks back at Aurora. "He always asks Niall if he heard anything from you, or how you are, and how's Noah… Those kinds of things. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything, but… I don't know. I don't really know you guys that well, but Harry seems to really care about you, and from what I've heard today, you deserve to get over your ex, so… I don't know… I guess I thought you should know… Because… Yeah… I don't know why."

They both laugh, and Aurora nods at her.

"Thanks for letting me know. I'm really confused about the whole thing, but thanks anyway."

"Do you want something to happen? Like, have you ever thought about it?"

"What? Me and Harry?" Aurora practically mouths. And when Megan rolls her eyes, she laughs and shakes her head. "God, no… Never. I mean… I haven't thought about anyone since Zack, to be honest."

"Hmm." Megan nods. "But you're single now, and Zack isn't in the picture anymore, right?"

"Right."

"Wouldn't it be nice if something happened between you and Harry, then?"

Yes.

Aurora shrugs. "I… I don't know. I feel very weird about it."

"Why?"

Exactly, why?

Why would it be weird? 

If everything around him feels so natural and effortless… Why would it be weird?

Aurora chuckles and groans, looking at her feet and shaking her head. When she speaks again, she lowers her voice as much as she can. "I just saw him again, Meg. Literally. Like, after years without seeing or even talking to each other, y'know? So it's just… Weird."

"Do you find him attractive?"

Fuck yes.

Aurora rolls her eyes, and shrugs. 

"Oh my God, you totally do!" Megan claps her hands together, giggling before tapping her fingers on her knees. "You find him attractive and you're shy to admit it!"

"Shhhhh," Aurora whispers, clenching her teeth and widening her eyes.

"Sorry, sorry." Megan giggles. "I just love this!"

The way Megan radiates joyness at the whole thing makes Aurora chuckle, and she shakes her head, then scratches the tip of her nose.

"I think you should go for it," Megan adds.

Maybe…

But no.

Mostly because Aurora doesn't know how to do that anymore. There used to be a time when she had fun flirting with guys, and when she didn't doubt her instincts. Now, though? Now it's like she doesn't even have instincts anymore. It's like her mind isn't telling her what to do anymore. Or her body isn't reacting by itself anymore.

Besides, they've just seen each other. After six years. 

Aurora reaches for her necklace, then. "Wouldn't it be too fast, tho?" 

"I don't know…" Megan shrugs. "I'm hardly one to talk, tho. I met Niall at a bar on a Friday night, went back to his place and didn't leave until Sunday morning, so…" She shrugs again. "We clicked, and that was it. Was it fast with your ex-husband, too?"

Aurora snorts. "No, not at all. We were co-workers first, and we were friends for months before Zack asked me out on a date. It also took him months to officially ask me to be his girlfriend."

"Mhmm…" Megan nods, half-smiling while glancing at Harry, then back at her. "So… You took your time getting to know each other, and yet you still divorced him."

Aurora scoffs, then narrows her eyes. "Yeah, okay. I see where you're getting at." 

Megan shrugs and beams at her. "Yep. I'm getting at the fact that maybe it's not about time, it's about the person."

She looks so proud of herself for coming up with that conclusion, that Aurora ends up laughing. And maybe her laughter is a little bit louder than it should be, because it seems to get Harry's attention. She notices it when he turns his head and looks at her, and when she really needs to hold herself from looking back at him. 

"God," she breathes out, looking down at her thighs and grabbing her necklace between her fingers. "I feel like this is too much information… Like, my head can't get around this. We literally just saw each other. This morning. After six years." 

Aurora laughs, and the incredulous tone gives away the nervousness behind her thoughts. And behind her feelings.

"Like I said, I think you should go for it. He's totally into you… I mean, there's absolutely no way he isn't."

That's the thing, though… Absolutely no way? Really? What if they're wrong?

"Right… Well… I don't know." Aurora sighs. "I need some time to process this."

"Okay, yeah. So let's stop talking about it. Let's just… Y'know… Enjoy the view… The sun, the water… Also," — Megan leans in, and hides her mouth from any potential pryers —  "you should think about it while you stare at those tattoos. And those mind-blowing abs."

Aurora laughs loudly again, mostly at the fact that Megan is suddenly comfortable enough to joke like that around her. 

"I mean," Megan adds. "If Niall asks, I find them ridiculous, ok? Not my type. Ew. But… Y'know… I truly, truly hope you get to enjoy… That."

"Y'know," Ava says, standing near the couch and placing her hands on her hips. "Those colors look really nice on you." 

Aurora stops walking and looks down at her body, meanwhile taking a sip from her piña colada. Her breasts are right there, popping out at her, Megan's shirt long forgotten after she decided to spend a few minutes in the pool with Lucy. And she had missed showing them off. They used to be her favorite part of her body. 

"You think so?" she asks. 

"Totally!" 

Aurora giggles. She walks down the steps to the outdoor lounge, smiling while getting closer to her friend.

"Where did you get it?" Ava asks. 

Aurora takes another sip of her drink and closes her eyes. Tasting the pineapple, coconut, and rum inside her mouth. 

"God, this is delicious…" She opens her eyes and glances back at Ava, then giggles. "Sorry… Hmm… It's actually Mara Hoffman, I got it on sale."

"Wow!" Ava smirks. "I love fancy Rory! It's perfect for the occasion."

"Shut up." Aurora laughs, waving her off. "It was the first thing I bought after I signed the divorce papers." She shrugs. "Felt kinda liberating."

"Ohhh, let's toast to that, then!" Ava runs closer to Aurora, raising the hand holding her drink.

They giggle while clicking their glasses together, each taking a one-long sip right after.

"Wait, no!" Ava cries. "We skipped the speech!" 

"We don't need a speech." 

"Yes, we do! Every toast needs a speech," Ava says, but proceeds to take another sip of her drink anyway. 

"Okay, lemme hear it, then."

"Okay, so," Ava says, and rolls her shoulders.

Aurora takes another sip, enjoying her drink while she listens to the unnecessary speech. 

"Here we go." Ava clears her throat, and raises her glass. "To our newly divorced, incredible, breathtaking, hot, sexy mama, who's—"

Aurora chokes, spitting half of her drink out of her mouth before she can even try to cover it up. Part of it goes down Aurora's chin, and the rest directly to Ava's chest and belly. 

There is a short silent pause, then loud laughter takes over the two of them. 

"Oh my God!" Aurora yells, whipping her chin with the back of her hand. She hunches down, laughing and putting one hand over her stomach.

"Moonshine!" Niall shouts from where he is sitting, next to the pool. "Are you drunk without me?!"

"'M not drunk!" Aurora shouts back, still laughing at the way the drink sneaked out between her lips. "Ava is just… Oh my God… She's just being stupid!"

Ava gasps, then shoves Aurora's shoulder. "Hey! I'm not stupid! What did I do?"

Aurora's still laughing, but she lowers her voice to make sure nobody listens when she explains, "You called me sexy mama." 

"Ohhh! Well that's just 'cause I think you are a sexy mamma!" Ava finishes her drink, glancing over Aurora's shoulder before smirking and looking back at her. "Besides, I know for a fact that I'm not the only one who thinks that."

Aurora sips her drink, and narrows her eyes. "What?"

Ava puts her empty glass on the table, then turns her back to the water, forcing Aurora to turn around too, standing in front of her and facing the opposite side. "Harry won't stop looking at you."

Aurora rolls her eyes. "That's not true."

It is, though. She knows that.

"Yes, it is. C'mon, it's so obvious… He doesn't even try to hide it anymore." 

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Mhmm… Okay then." She wiggles her eyebrows and leans closer to her. "Auriiii."

Aurora purses her lips, doing her best to keep a straight face. It only lasts three seconds before laughter comes out of her chest, though, and she shakes her head. "Shut up…"

"Ah!" Ava squeals. "See?! You know!"

"Stop…" she practically cries, raising her arms and hiding behind her hand — and her drink. "I feel so silly about this!"

"No! Why? Rory, oh my God. It's so sweet. Really. I'd truly love that for you. He's such a great guy."

Aurora puts her hands down from her face, then shakes her head. 

"I don't think it's the right time to be thinking about this."

Ava snaps her eyebrows together. "Why not?"

"I just got divorced and—"

"Na-na-na!" Ava shakes her head, waving her hands in front of Aurora's face. "Don't give me that bullshit again. It's been months now, Rory! C'monnn… How long since you've had sex? Huh?"

Aurora shrugs. "I don't know."

Ava rolls her eyes. 

"Yeah, right," she snorts. "Of course you know. Just tell me, c'mon."

Aurora takes a sip of her drink, shuffling on her feet while gathering enough courage to speak. 

"I mean… We ended things over a year ago, and before that it had already been a while, so…"

"So…" Ava smiles, wiggling her eyebrows again. "It's time to get laid." 

Aurora snorts. "No it's not."

"Yes it is. You deserve to get laid."

"Stop."

"Roryyy…"

Aurora chuckles, shaking her head. "Why are you so excited about this, anyway?"

"Because you deserve to feel good, Rory," Ava says. "And because you deserve someone who'll care about making you feel good."

Aurora raises her left eyebrow. "And you think Harry's that person?" 

Ava nods. "I know for a fact he is."

"How—"

"Look, don't think too much about this, okay? Just enjoy it."

Aurora sighs, rubbing her forehead and shaking her head. 

"Don't you think it's nice?" Ava asks, then, placing one hand on her shoulder. "That excitement of meeting someone? That tension before something happens?"

Aurora looks over Ava's shoulder, seeing Harry climb back to the yacht. 

He is soaked. His entire body is dripping water, his shorts are heavy and stuck against his skin, and there are no traces of his curls as his hair is pulled back.

She knows that the excitement Harry makes her feel is, in fact, "nice". He makes her feel safe, he makes her laugh, and he makes it seem easy. However, the problem right now isn't him, or what he's making her feel, but how she's reacting to all that. 

So inexperienced and… Childish. Shy. Unsure of herself. 

And she hates that. So much! Because it's not who she wants to be. It's not who she used to be.

Then once again, Harry turns his head to where she is, and locks eyes with her. He pulls his hair back and blinks, then tilts his head slightly and frowns. Almost as if he's asking if she's okay, or what's going on. 

"Are you looking at him right now?" Ava asks. 

Aurora doesn't stop staring at him, but she still nods, then takes the last sip of her piña colada. "Mhm."

"God." Ava snorts. "I swear to God Aurora, it's written all over your face. It's written all over both of your faces. So if you don't go for it… I don't know. I think I'll just kill you both." 

Aurora snorts. Then laughs. 

And Harry smiles. 

And Aurora's belly buzzes. And her body tingles. 

And then she shakes her head and looks down, eying the empty glass in her hand. 

"Okay. I think I need another drink now." 

Aurora puts her empty glass on the table and gets up from the couch, finally — finally — walking back to the swim platform.

Niall, Jayden and Megan are standing near each other, having a loud and enthusiastic conversation about something she doesn't understand. Nor cares about. But she stands close to them anyway, listening and waiting for Harry to come back from wherever he went to just minutes ago. 

Megan's sharing a story about her job and softwares, or something along those lines, when Aurora hears the sound of feet against the wooden deck, and then some coughing. 

Her heartbeat picks up inside her chest, and a fuzzy rush of anticipation takes over her body. Knowing exactly who it is. And knowing she's been waiting for that. That she's been thinking about that. About being around him again, about getting closer to him again. About talking to him again. 

So she bites her lip, and waits. Waits for him to finally stand by her side, or maybe just walk past her and stop right across from where she is. Where he's going to be able to look at her face. 

So she waits, and waits. 

And yet she never sees him.  

Instead, she feels him hunching behind her, and then the way he sneaks his hands under her elbows. "What—"

"Hey Auri," he murmurs, curling his arms around her waist and pushing her back against his bare chest.

"Wait—What are you—"

He tightens his hold around her belly, then lifts her feet from the ground. 

"Oh my God…"

She puts her hands on top of his forearms, and Harry steps forward. 

"Harry!" Aurora shouts, and laughs, kicking her legs as he walks towards the edge of the platform. "No, no, no… Stop! Harry! Stop! Oh my—"

Harry jumps, though, and Aurora gasps as he takes her along with him.

She closes her eyes and presses her lips together, holding her breath and scrunching up her face right before the cold water hits her feet and then her entire body. 

Sounds die down as they sink into the Mediterranean Ocean, heaviness pushing them towards the distant bottom and causing Harry's arms to loosen up around her waist. 

He never lets go of her, though. If anything, he reacts by squeezing her even tighter, pulling them back up with the same confidence and strength he just dropped them. 

It only takes a second for Aurora's instincts to kick in as well, forcing her to move her arms and legs in an attempt to reach the surface. 

The fresh air quickly hits her face, and Aurora gasps for air, deeply and loudly. And then she coughs. And coughs. And coughs again. 

Harry's head comes up from under the water right behind her, and she turns around. 

"Harry!" She laughs, and coughs, kicking her legs to keep her body floating and taking her hair out of her face. 

"Hiii." Harry smiles, moving his arms and legs to stay afloat, too. 

"Hi? Hi?!" The smile stays on her face while she splashes him with water, and he jerks away with laughter. "You're such an idiot!" 

He laughs and shakes his head, curls following his movement and making it rain all around him.  

"I know. Just look at the things I gotta do to get your attention, huh?" 

Cold, saline water washes over her face and drops through her lashes, and Aurora takes one hand to wipe her eyes off. 

"Or maybe you could've just talked to me." 

He swims closer, as close as he can get while they're both kicking their legs to avoid submerging again. 

"Guess I could… But what's the fun in that?" 

She gasps, and splashes more water on him. "What's the fun in talking to me?!"

"Wha—No!" Harry laughs louder, jerking his face away and splashing her back. "Shit. That's not what I meant."

Aurora laughs, too. 

"Mhmmmm, but it is what you said." 

"Ohhh, c'mere jellybean." Harry reaches for her, pulling her arm first, then grabbing her waist and turning her around. 

Aurora squeals, and laughs, and when he presses her back against his chest, she feels herself wavering in the blue ocean. Floating with unsteady movements. And just this close to sinking again. So she holds onto his forearm tightly, tilting her chin up to keep her mouth out of the water. 

"Harry," she cries with laughter, automatically searching for his shoulder with the back of her head. "C'monnn."

"What?" he murmurs, holding half of her weight with one arm while moving the other and kicking his legs.

"My legs are getting tired," she murmurs as well. Feeling the way his body is moving behind her. Too fast for her to actually feel him, but too firm for her not to notice it. 

"Mine aren't," he says, surely of himself. "I've got you, yeah? Just look at the—" 

"Oi!" Niall shouts. "Lovebirds!" 

Harry whirls towards the yacht, pulling Aurora along with him. 

She gasps from the sudden movement, her legs getting tangled with his as they both keep working to stay afloat. 

"This is for you!" Niall adds. 

Aurora faces forward, only now aware that they've drifted to the side of the yacht and that their friends aren't on sight anymore. Niall is there, though, holding a beer while Theo throws something large and orange to the water.

It falls right under the swim platform, and Theo points at it. 

"Take this!" He shouts. "Don't want anyone drowning at my engagement party."

"Thanks!" Harry shouts back, and both Theo and Niall give him a thumbs up before walking away. 

Aurora blinks. Trying to process all the information. 

"Can you swim there? Or want me to get it?"

"Uhm… I guess… I can swim?"

Harry chuckles. "You don't sound very sure." 

"Sorry, I'm just… Confused, I think. Let's go tho, my thighs are burning." 

"Ok, c'mon. I'm right behind ya if you need me." 

He lets go of her waist, and Aurora takes a deep breath in, diving into the water and kicking her legs to swim towards whatever that orange thing is. 

It's not far away, but it takes some effort from someone who doesn't frequently swim. When she finally reaches it, and realizes it seems to be a floating mat, Harry's hands are already on her waist, smoothly helping her climb on it before he does the same. 

She crawls on the orange thick mat, exhaling what to others might sound like a heavy and annoyed grunt, but inside her it just feels like she's pushing all the exhaustion out of her body. 

There's enough room to fit at least five people on that mat, so she pushes herself a little bit further, trying to reach a place that at least feels like the middle. Once she's there, she turns around and sits on her bum, then drops her weight back. 

"Oh my God," Aurora drags out of her mouth, laying on her back and facing the darkening sky while her thighs prickle with soreness. She closes her eyes and places her hands on her belly, trying to catch up her breath. "That was just… Wow… Like a whole… Y'know… Like a whole workout for me..." 

Harry chuckles, dropping his back right next to her. Close enough that Aurora can feel the hair on his arm brushing her own.

"It was good tho," he murmurs, turning his head to look at her. "Wasn't it?" 

His gaze heats up her face, and Aurora blinks, then turns her head and looks at him, too.

Despite the steadiness of his stare, there's some insecurity on his face. Maybe it's the way he furrows his brows, or the way he seems to be biting the skin inside his cheek. Or maybe the way he so intensely waits for her to answer his simple question. 

And yes, Aurora's arms are tired. And yes, Aurora didn't plan to get into the water today. And yes, her legs are sore. And yes she's still out of breath and her heart is thumping heavily. 

But she can't deny how refreshing and invigorating the whole thing felt. Or how she would do it all over again if she could. Or how much she appreciates his spontaneity. And his boldness. Or how happy he makes her.

So she nods, and murmurs back to him, "Yeah… It was."

"Ok," he whispers, taking one hand to rub water out of his eye before settling into her stare again. "Good."

And just like that, it's like once again she's stuck inside a green spell, because she can't pull away from him. 

Drops of water cover his face, his tanned skin glistens under what's left of the sun, and his hair is all over the place. He's breathing in and out heavily, just like her, and she can see through the corner of her eyes the way his chest moves up and down. 

It's tempting, to be honest. And the idea to look down even crosses her mind, but there's one particular curl falling onto his forehead that truly gets her attention. That feels more important right now. So Aurora raises her hand, not even trying to resist the instant urge to touch him as she reaches for his face and pulls it away for him. 

Harry curls his lips into a smile and closes his eyes, and Aurora's heart skips a beat. 

She turns on her side, then, bending her other arm by the elbow and resting on it while she runs her fingers even further through his head. Gently combing his wet hair around his ear, moving up near his temple, and then to the top of his forehead. Curling her legs and making herself comfortable. Losing herself in time as seconds — and maybe even minutes — go by. As the sun sets around them and the sky changes its colors. 

Everything's naturally quiet around them. The mat waves them softly, following the motion of the sea, and although the weather is keeping her warm, a soft breeze from the late hour runs through her body. Making her shiver, and spreading goosebumps all over her skin.

She pulls away, then, but Harry is quick to raise his own hand and grab her wrist, slowing her down. With his eyes still closed, he guides her touch and drives her to slide her palm across his cheek and towards his mouth. And she lets him, biting her lip and watching him in awe. Allowing him to move her as he pleases. Feeling the brush of his facial hair, and also the contrasting combination from the cold water and his blazing skin. 

He only stops when the center of her palm meets his lips, and then he presses a long and wet kiss to it. And another one. 

Aurora sighs, and drops the weight of her hand, spreading it open and placing her thumb on his nose while she strokes her other four fingers up and down his cheek. 

It only lasts a moment, and then Harry finally turns on his side, too, mimicking her position and using one arm as a pillow as he keeps holding her wrist with his other hand. 

"Don't stop," he murmurs.

And Aurora doesn't. She brushes his cheek, gently and steadily. 

Harry breathes out, hotly and heavily into her palm, then draws gentle circles on her wrist with his thumb. Lastly, he folds his legs, and his knees bump into her. And before she knows it, he's tangling their feet together and covering her coldness with his warmth. 

That's when he finally opens his eyes, going straight to her gaze.

"Is this ok?" he murmurs. 

Aurora's heart thuds densely, her chest moves up and down heavily, and her stomach feels like twisting and swirling. 

"Yes," she answers, not giving herself any time to overthink it as she pulls her wrist out of his hold and moves her hand along his jaw. 

Harry smiles, then drops his hand between them. "Promise? Because I can pull away if you want. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

She bites the insides of her bottom lip, watching him carefully before she finds the words to speak. Focusing on how she's pretty sure she's never been so close to him. Not like this, at least. Being able to point out the smallest details on his face. Or to catch the different shades in his irises. Or even to count the hairs across his jaw. 

She doesn't really know what's happening. She doesn't really know how they got there. She doesn't really know how they went from accidentally bumping into each other at the airport, to floating in the middle of the sea and being so focused on each other that they completely ignore the beautiful sight of the sun setting right in front of them. 

But she knows she doesn't want him to pull away. And she knows he's the furthest from making her feel uncomfortable. And she knows she wants to see where that whole interaction is going to take them. 

Saying that to him doesn't feel enough, though. Like it doesn't represent how much he's meaning to her right now and there. 

So instead, she offers, "You made today a lot easier for me. Y'know that, right?" 

There's a flicker of shock in his eyes, she sees it when he widens them slightly and then blinks rapidly. And she feels it when his voice falters. "I did?"

"Mhm." She nods, then drops her hand on the mat. Right next to his. "I'm just… I'm really happy we met at the airport. And that you're here now. It wouldn't've been the same without you." 

Harry stares blankly at her, and then he swallows. It's clear that he doesn't know what to say, and that he wasn't expecting to hear that. 

And to be honest Aurora doesn't know what to say, either. Not beyond what she's already shared, anyway. 

So she waits, and waits. 

Until Harry closes his eyes and sighs, and then he tilts his face to hide in his own arm and chuckles. 

"Jesus," he groans, unable to hide the grin from his face. And when he looks at her, there's nothing but joy, softness and affection surrounding him. "Can't believe how good that felt."

Aurora's belly flutters, and even though she's still out of words, she feels her lips curving into a smile, too. 

Harry clears his throat, then, and whilst he doesn't lift his arm from the mat, he spreads his hand open and shifts it even closer. Enough for him to stretch his pinky finger and softly brush it against hers. 

Aurora holds her breath, and drifts her eyes over his face. 

"I think about this a lot, y'know?" he says, changing his tone into a lower and softer one. "About you."

Oh God. 

"And these past years weren't the same without you, either," he adds, never pausing the touching path of his finger. "So yeah… I'm really happy we bumped into each other today. I'm happy that we're here now."

Her heartbeat echoes from her chest to her head, and then vibrates to all over her body. Making it impossible for her to find something — anything — inside her brain to say back to him. 

So she shuffles a little, lifting her head and taking her hand to her face just to scratch her nose and bring herself back down to earth. And then she lays on top of her arm again, dropping her other hand next to his and moving back into his eyes. 

Once she's settled, she admits, "I don't know what to say." 

He smiles and shrugs, opening and closing his hand into a fist. "It's ok… Will you let me know if I ever cross a line with you, tho? Or if I make you uncomfortable?"

"I don't think you need to worry about that."

His fingers seem to twitch next to her hand, as if he can't keep them still, and yet he keeps forcing himself to.

"I do, tho," he says, and the way he smiles doesn't reach his eyes anymore. "Will you let me know?"

"Of course."

"Promise?"

"Promise." 

"Ok."

Aurora furrows her brows. She doesn't like that. She doesn't want him to be afraid of making her uncomfortable, because she doesn't want him holding himself back. So whatever made him suddenly doubt himself, she wants to change it. She wants to take it back. 

And yet, she doesn't know how to, because she doesn't know what it was. And she doesn't really know how to ask him. Or how to bring it up. 

To be fair, she doesn't even want to talk about it. She's done talking. What she wants and needs right now, it's different. 

It's inevitable, then, to fully glance at him. At the few droplets still covering his tanned and inked skin. His body hair. His necklaces hanging from his chest into the mat. His defined muscles, and also the rolls on his tummy resulting from the position he's in. His still wet swimming shorts. His thighs. His knees, still touching hers. His feet, still tangled with hers. 

He feels like a magnet, pulling her in even though she doesn't intend to move. Even if she knows she shouldn't move. It's like he ignites something inside her. Similarly to when he bought her that caramel coffee and memories from the past crashed against her. Making her stumble, and lose her feet, and fall apart in front of him.

However, this time she doesn't feel like breaking down. She doesn't feel like she's about to cry or embarrass herself. Because the emotions he's bringing out on her aren't bad, nor something to be ashamed of. He's taking her back to a time when, given the exact same circumstance, she wouldn't have thought twice before making a move on him. 

That's probably why she ends up moving her hand to his chest and drawing his collarbone with her fingertips. Or why she picks the tag from his chest and fidgets with it, waiting for something else to happen. Waiting for him to do something next. Waiting for a sign. Something. Anything.

"It's getting dark," Harry murmurs, then clears his throat. "Wanna go back inside?" 

Fuck no. If after everything that happened during the day she just goes back inside with even more questions and less answers than before, she's pretty sure she's going to combust. She'd rather know she's been wrong and misinterpreting things all along, then to go to bed wondering about it.

"Do we have to go?"

"Only if you want to." 

"I don't."

Harry curls one side of his mouth up, offering her half a smile, and nods. 

"Ok then."

She fidgets with the tag between her fingertips, conscious of how darkness is quickly engulfing them. And that they're still laying on a floating mat, by the yacht, in the middle of Italian seawater. 

That being said, it only takes another second for tiny white lights to turn on right above them and all around the yacht. Brightening up not only their faces, but also all the water surrounding them. 

Aurora narrows her eyes and blinks, then glances up at the empty swim platform. "How long do you think it'll take for them to come looking for us?" 

"They won't." 

She furrows her brows, then purses her lips to hold back a smile and looks at him. "You sound really sure of yourself."

He smiles wider, then. "'Cause I am. Unless something bad happens up there or we have to anchor somewhere else, they won't come here." 

"Hm. And how do you know that?" 

"'Cause I do." 

"Harry." She rolls her eyes and chuckles. Desperate for him to give her something — anything — that will give her the confirmation she needs to move forward. "C'mon." 

He chuckles softly, too, then shrugs. "Because they don't want to interrupt, that's all."

"Interrupt what?" 

"Us." 

"Us?" 

"Mhm."

Aurora's heart comes back to life, then. 

She holds her breath, and drags her eyes down to his lips, then to his chin. And then back to his eyes. 

She shuffles closer, but it's so discreet and barely that she isn't even sure he'll notice. And she wants him to notice. So she moves her foot up and down. Stroking his ankle, and his shin. Up and down. Again. And again. 

Harry closes his eyes and breathes out heavily, and the hot air that comes through his nose hits her face warmly and impatiently. 

"What's there to interrupt, tho?" Aurora murmurs, letting go of his necklace and dropping her hand next to his. 

He blinks, staring back at her before he murmurs back, "I don't know."

Aurora mimics his previous move, stretching her pinky and brushing it against his. 

Harry responds by lifting his own finger and hooking it around hers. Holding her tightly and stopping her movements. 

"Whatever you want," he adds.

"What about what you want?" 

Harry smirks. Or smiles. Or maybe it's just a mix between both. "What about it?"

"I don't know."

Harry chuckles. 

Fuck that's getting so confusing. 

"Do you know what I want?" he asks.

Aurora shakes her head, then brushes her foot up and down again.

"Do you know what you want?" he tries again, albeit differently. 

And this time, Aurora nods. 

"And what's that?"

"That you stop confusing me and leading me on."

Harry widens his eyes, then blinks once. And twice.

"And… I also want you to finally make a move," she adds. "Like, an actual move. Something. Anything. I don't know." 

There's a beat of silence.

And another one.

And another one.

And then, Harry cackles. 

He just turns around and bursts out laughing. Loudly and openly. Laying on his back and covering his face with both hands while laughter and more laughter breaks out from his chest. 

Aurora frowns, and suddenly there are just so many things happening inside her. And they are all just happening at the same time. And it's just so much and so intense, that she isn't even sure what she's feeling anymore. What she knows, though, it's that she doesn't like that. And that it isn't fun or amusing anymore. 

"Okay," Aurora says, sitting and then kneeling on the mat. Trying to balance herself while clenching her teeth. "Forget what I said." 

She shuffles and turns around carefully, feeling the water under the mat but also desperate to see the yacht. Desperate to get out of there. 

Harry is still laughing, beaming, when he pulls his hands from his face and looks at her. 

"Oh for fucks sake just c'mere," he says, grabbing her arm and yanking her on top of him. 

Aurora yelps, but doesn't fight him. And as she falls down, Harry takes his free hand to her face and cradles her cheek, then hunches forward and smashes their mouths together. Aurora whines from pure shock, feeling herself flopping into his chest until Harry spins them around and he's halfway on top of her.

He pulls away, then, slotting one leg between hers while holding his upper body on one arm. 

"You're so impatient," he murmurs, looking into her eyes while he brings his free hand back to cradle her face. "Couldn't even give me a minute to react."

She frowns, aware of how her arms are squeezed in between their chests and closing her hands into fist just so she won't touch him. "Your reaction was to laugh at what I said, so yeah. I'm sorry if I didn't enjoy that."

"Wasn't laughing at what you said," he says, brushing his thumb up and down her cheek. "'M sorry. I just laugh when I'm happy, that's all."

Aurora sighs, unable to stay mad or annoyed at him, then rolls her eyes and shifts on her back, pulling her arms up and freeing them out from their chests.

"That was a shitty first kiss," she murmurs, hugging his neck and pulling him closer. 

Harry snorts, then eases more of his weight into her. His bare body finally crushing her covered breasts. 

"I know." Smiling, he brushes the tip of his nose up and down her other cheek, where his hand isn't already touching her. "Was afraid you'd change your mind and leave."

She takes one hand to the back of his head, twisting and twirling his curls while trying to stare at him despite them being so close to each other. "Well… Didn't leave. And didn't change my mind, so…" 

He kisses her cheek, then a little bit to the side, closer to her nose. "So… Still want me to make a move?"

She nods and lifts her leg, hooking it around his thigh and moving her foot up and down. "This time do it properly, though." 

Harry smirks, kissing a little bit further down, and again near the corner of her mouth. 

"'Mkay," he murmurs, and moves to the other corner of her mouth, slightly brushing their lips on his way there. "I'll try my best." 

He slides his hand down, from her cheek to her jaw, then brushes his thumb from side to side at the same time he presses another kiss to her skin. Aurora sighs and closes her eyes, making her hands comfortable in between his curls while she waits for him to finally fully kiss her mouth. Except when he does, he does it softly and barely. A feather-touch that has her puckering her lips and waiting for more. 

"God you're so pretty," he whispers, almost like a secret, then pecks her lips again with the same lightness. Caressing her mouth way more than kissing it. "Can't believe this is happening." 

He slides his hand down from her face to her shoulder, then through her side. Squeezing her waist while pressing another feathery kiss, and another one. Making her body tingle and shiver. Just like the Italian summer breeze did to her earlier that day. 

"Do you have any idea how long I waited for this?" he asks, keeping his mouth close enough that their lips brush against hers as he speaks. Pressing their mouths together just for a gentle second, then pulling away and leaving her longing for more. "How many times I thought about it?" 

Aurora is kind of dizzy, kind of woozy, but his revelation feels too important to ignore. So she opens her eyes, and slides her hands from the back of his head to his cheeks. Guiding him to look at her. Demanding his full attention. "What?"

Harry blinks, the green of his eyes burying into her soul even in the darkness.  

"I just…" He squeezes her side, a little bit tighter this time. As if his words were coming out of his fingertips, instead of his mouth. "Fuck I can't believe 'm about to do this."

He squeezes her again and leans in, then finally fully kisses her. Capturing her lips and not waiting any other second before sneaking his tongue into her mouth. Dragging his hand down to her thigh, then back to her hips, then around her back. Going from gentle to desperate in a blink of an eye. As if he suddenly opened the gates to a lot of piled up needs. 

Yes. Fucking finally. 

Aurora shuts her eyes closed and whines, or maybe it's just a moan. She doesn't know. It just melts out of her throat while she goes numb and dizzy into the kiss. Instinctively throwing her arms back around his neck and tasting his tongue with her own and then pulling him closer, and closer, and closer. Every inch of him. From his head, to his chest, to his leg locked inside her own.

She never knew she would be so relieved to kiss him. Or that her body would just restore to life as soon as she tasted her lips. Or that everything inside her would just buzz and itch for him. 

And they're both just so, so desperate. Squeezing here, pulling there. Tilting heads to one side, and to the other. Licking tongues. Sucking lips. Sighing into each other's mouths. Trying to grab more, and more, and more.

Always more. 

"Fucking hell," he mumbles, then tilts his head to the other side and leans in for another wet, sloppy, and delicious kiss. 

Aurora moans, sweetly and weakly. Almost like she's about to beg for him. And then she drags her hands up through the back of his head and threads her fingers around his curls, holding tightly onto him while Harry kisses the hell out of her. While he drifts his short nails from her back to her ass, then stops where the swimsuit doesn't cover her skin and strokes her up and down. While he squeezes her. And then while he sneaks his hand under the fabric and fills his hand with her cheek, then squeezes her again. Harshly — so harshly and so wildly that his own fingers burn in pain. 

Aurora gasps and jolts closer, and Harry deepens even more to kiss her even more. And more. And more. 

Always so much fucking more. And it's just so, so good.

Harry moves from her ass to her thigh, then grips her flesh tightly before encouraging her to properly hook her leg around him. And she does it. Happily. Eagerly. Pressing her heel on his back and pushing him closer at the same time she tugs his curls and sighs into the kiss. 

He lays on top of her, settling between her legs while holding his weight on one elbow and gripping the back of her thigh. Digging his fingertips into her as he breaks the kiss and pulls away, opening his eyes to look at her. 

He presses himself between her legs, then, and Aurora loses what's left of her mind. Because although he isn't fully hard yet, it's clear he's getting there. Firm and heavy between her legs. Pressing into her. Forcing into her. 

"Oh my God," Aurora breathes out, widening her eyes as she opens them and stares at him. 

Harry pants. 

Aurora pants.

And they both just look at each other. They look, and they look. Meanwhile trying to catch up with their breaths. Meanwhile trying to slow down. Meanwhile trying to control themselves. 

And then Harry moves up and down, and she gasps. Then he rolls again, and again, and again. 

She squeezes her eyes shut while arching her back and hooking both legs around his waist. And she's painfully conscious of how wet and thirsty her body is between her legs. 

"Holy fuck," Harry murmurs, then places both elbows on each side of her face. "Auri?"

"Hm?"

Fuck he feels so fucking good.

"You need… You need to stop me." 

She shakes her head and opens her eyes, then brings her hands to cradle his cheeks. "No. Why?" 

He kisses her, and he kisses her. And he kisses her. And he fucking kisses her. So, so well.

"Because I'm about to get to a point where I won't be able to stop anymore." 

"Then don't."

Harry chuckles, and she feels his pain in his voice, and also his reluctance when he closes his eyes and has to force himself to stop rolling up and down against her desperate center. 

"Not here," he breathes out, squeezing his eyes shut so tightly that it makes her uncomfortable for him. "Not like this."

She hates it, but she knows he's right. So she licks her lips, and brushes her thumbs up and down his cheeks, then unhooks her legs from around his waist. "We'll stop, then."

"It's not that I don't want to," he murmurs, dropping his weight on top of her and pressing their foreheads together.

"I know. I can feel that."

Harry chuckles, then kisses her cheek, and the corner of her mouth. And then, as desperately and urgently as he started, he finds a way to subtly and delicately kiss her again. Slowing them down. Tasting her mouth with more affection, with more time, with more intention. Actually savoring her lips, and actually caressing her skin. Dropping his hand back down to her ass and covering her properly again, then sliding it all up through her side.

Aurora finds herself happily following his new pace. Threading her fingers through his curls and stroking his scalp, then giving little nibbles to his lips, and cute, sweet licks to his tongue.

He hums, and cools off. Losing his strength and dropping his weight to the side. More and more. Until he's fully turning on his back, and pulling her along with him. 

And Aurora moves, turning and holding herself on one elbow while she keeps her other hand on his face. Holding, brushing, caring for him. And when she pulls away, the loud mwah of their lips breaking apart seems to reverberate through both of them, and also through the ocean. 

They both blink, and whilst Aurora rests her hand on his bare chest, Harry takes his own to her face, pulling her hair behind her ear before brushing his thumb up and down her cheek. 

"Hi," he whispers, tilting his head slightly to the side just to stare straight into her eyes.

"Hi," she whispers back, finding the string of his necklace and grabbing it between her fingertips.

The bright lights from the yacht reflect on the beautiful green of his eyes. Besides that, though, everything about Harry looks like a complete mess. 

But a hot mess, still. Because he looks like a mess that was made by her. He looks like she kissed him so hard that she left his lips swollen. Like she tugged his hair so harshly that she left him completely disheveled. And like she grabbed him so tightly that she left tiny spots all over his cheeks. 

Does she look like that, too?

Like he just kissed the soul out of her? 

And then brought her back to life?

"How was that for a move, huh?" 

Aurora rolls her eyes, but then drops her forehead to his shoulder and laughs.

Harry smiles, sliding his hand to the back of her head and kissing her temple. Once, and twice. "Is it ok that I'm already thinking about doing this again?"

She takes a moment, but ends up holding herself up and looking at him. "Is it okay that I wish we didn't have to stop and go back to our friends right now?"

He slides his hand back to her face, then brushes his thumb up and down her cheek. "Thank God 's not just me."

He leans in, then, pecking her lips just once. Softly and shortly. Puffy lips sweetly puckering against hers and leaving her craving for more. 

Aurora smiles, and fidgets with the string between her fingers. 

Even the mat underneath them seems to wake up, because it's suddenly waving their bodies again. 

(Although Aurora it's pretty sure it never stopped moving, she just stopped paying attention to it.)

"Can we go somewhere more comfortable next time, tho?" she asks, and Harry laughs. 

"Yeah… We can go wherever you want, Auri. Whenever you want. I don't care, as long as I get to be there, too. As long as I get to be there with you."

Hi! If you've made it here, thank you for reading. You have absolutely no idea how much it means to me.

[drunkkenobi]

Well. This is the weirdest one of these I’ve ever made.

I’m not going to rehash the wank from the Watcher TV announcement. You all know what happened. I am standing by my assertion that this streaming platform is the only way they’re going to stay afloat because YouTube is just not the place for them or anyone else making videos that aren’t just of one person in their house. (nothing against those folks, it’s just a completely different business model)

Anyway.

First up, here’s how Mystery Files season 2 did. It did well, with each ep hitting a million fairly quickly, but it didn’t do as well as season 1. Not significantly worse, just not as high. (two weeks after season 1 ended, the average per episode was 1.854 and for s2 it’s at 1.194million) Of course, the two weeks since season 2 ended have been fucking insane so it’s impossible to say how much of that is a factor.

I will say that views between last week and this week are down overall, but that’s expected. If someone has paid for the streamer and you want to rewatch Ghost Files or whatever, you’re going to watch it ad-free on the app you pay for and not YouTube for the most part. Also it’s very possible people are just not rewatching stuff right now for their own personal reasons, which is fine. I also just don’t think it’s something to worry about.

For better or worse, the Goodbye YouTube video is the best opening weekend Watcher has ever had (and will have?) on YouTube.

Watcher lost around 100k subscribers over The Announcement but, again, if people are paying them directly now then this is kind of a non-factor. For posterity, they’re at 2.84 million subscribers today.

I’m not sure what else to say this time, tbh! It felt like a good time to make one of these with MF season 2 being over but YouTube viewcounts are just…not going to be important anymore for Watcher so there’s not much to say about them. Finding out that a million views only nets between $10-30k has been very eye-opening to me about how piddly the revenue from YouTube is for a production studio like Watcher. The shows they want to make just cost more than they can make off of there. It’s that simple. No one has to like that fact, but that is the heart of all this.

Also, with all of that being said, I think my time as a spreadsheet gremlin is coming to a close. I’m going to keep up with it for a few more weeks and probably do one last round-up for every single video’s views, but with Watcher moving away from YouTube as a business model, there’s little reason to keep up with these. I’ve been making these updates less this year anyway because of a job change and I was losing my steam for it a bit too, so the timing feels right. Like I said, this won’t be my last viewcount post, but maybe second-to-last? And who knows, maybe I’ll check in when Ghost Files premieres but the counts will mean so much less now that the videos will premiere with a month delay from the streamer. We’ll just have to wait and see how the wind blows on this.

Thank you all, as always, for reading, reblogging, replying, liking these posts. Y’all are the reason I’ve kept up with it for four years (and my own nosiness but having encouragement helps!). And don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll have some other spreadsheets to share in the future of Watcher fandom. (I have…so many) So, until next time, thanks again. ❤️

[just-fandomthings]

off school for the next month so I have some time to write finally and instead of being productive, I’m staring down four different projects that are nearly completed…except for the fact I have no idea to write the final few paragraphs 🙃

[buckttommy]

...

[the-busy-ghost]

Something comforting to think about today- there are lots of people in the world who hate, loathe, and despise my favourite books

That doesn’t sound like it should be comforting because of course at heart I want everyone to love them as much as I do. And it does annoy me when people hate books based on what I sincerely believe to be a complete misinterpretation of them (cough-cough, the recent “Wuthering Heights is just a silly problematic romance novel” issue). But if I’m being honest I also hate it just as much when people LOVE my favourite books based on a complete misinterpretation of them and for all the wrong reasons (”XXX did nothing wrong!”- what book were you reading???). And in either situation it isn’t really my business, though I reserve the right to be irritated.

But lots of people have valid criticisms of these books. Others simply didn’t vibe with the book on a given day and maybe never will- they don’t owe me or anyone else a reason. And I may not agree with them, but I do like it when I can completely understand why some people don’t like these books. For example, I think “Middlemarch” is one of the greatest novels I’ve ever read but for other people, it’s just not for them! They simply enjoy a very different kind of book, or they were disappointed that it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, or they couldn’t understand the characters, or it just wasn’t the right time for that book to come into their lives, or it was just too damn long for them.

And firstly I find that comforting because it shows that we’re all different souls. We all have different tastes and experiences, and that means that our favourite books actually MEAN something to us, rather than just being a Generic Important Book That Everyone Likes. And often the reasons why one book is my favourite, are very different to the reasons that they are someone else’s favourite- the best books are multi-faceted after all. It’s a wonderful testament to the diversity of human experience and creativity (because in my opinion, there’s a great deal of the reader’s own imaginative ability goes into engaging with a book). So all that is required is for people to be open-minded and assume that when someone says they love a book, they have their own reasons, and these might not even be the reasons you think. 

And secondly of course, is that if even the books that I think are the best thing to exist, a physical symbol of worldly greatness, aspiration embodied, don’t appeal to everyone- then the things I create in turn don’t need to either. If even the greatest authors have harsh critics who will simply NEVER like their work, why are we all worrying so much about the merest hint of rejection, in life as much as in art?

[ketchuppee]

During the 2008 recession, my aunt lost her job. Her, her partner, and my three cousins moved across the country to stay with us while they got back on their feet. My house turned from a family of four to a family of nine overnight, complete with three dogs and five cats between us.

It took a few years for them to get a place of their own, but after a few rentals and apartments, they now own a split level ranch in a town nearby. I’ve lost track of how many coworkers and friends have stayed with them when they were in a tight spot. A mother and son getting out of an abusive relationship, a divorcee trying to stay local for his kids while they work out a custody agreement, you name it. My aunt and uncle knew first hand what that kindness meant, and always find space for someone who needed it, the way my parents had for them.

That same aunt and uncle visited me in [redacted] city last year. They are prolific drinkers, so we spent most of the day bar hopping. As we wandered the city, any time we passed a homeless person, my uncle would pull out a fresh cigarette and ask them if they had a light. Regardless of if they had a lighter on hand or not, he offered them a few bucks in exchange, which he explained to me after was because he felt it would be easier for them to accept in exchange for a service, no matter how small.

I work for a company that produces a lot of fabric waste. Every few weeks, I bring two big black trash bags full of discarded material over to a woman who works down the hall. She distributes them to local churches, quilting clubs, and teachers who can use them for crafts. She’s currently in the process of working with our building to set up a recycling program for the smaller pieces of fabric that are harder to find use for.

One of my best friends gives monthly donations to four or five local organizations. She’s fortunate enough to have a tech job that gives her a good salary, and she knows that a recurring donation is more valuable to a non-profit because they can rely on that money month after month, and can plan ways to stretch that dollar for maximum impact. One of those organizations is a native plant trust, and once she’s out of her apartment complex and in a home with a yard, she has plans to convert it into a haven of local flora.

My partner works for a company that is working to help regulate crypto and hold the current bad actors in the space accountable for their actions. We unfortunately live in a time where technology develops far too fast for bureaucracy to keep up with, but just because people use a technology for ill gain doesn’t mean the technology itself is bad. The blockchain is something that she finds fascinating and powerful, and she is using her degree and her expertise to turn it into a tool for good.

I knew someone who always had a bag of treats in their purse, on the odd chance they came across a stray cat or dog, they had something to offer them.

I follow artists who post about every local election they know of, because they know their platform gives them more reach than the average person, and that they can leverage that platform to encourage people to vote in elections that get less attention, but in many ways have more impact on the direction our country is going to go.

All of this to say, there’s more than one way to do good in the world. Social media leads us to believe that the loudest, the most vocal, the most prolific poster is the most virtuous, but they are only a piece of the puzzle. (And if virtue for virtues sake is your end goal, you’ve already lost, but that’s a different post). Community is built of people leveraging their privileges to help those without them. We need people doing all of those things and more, because no individual can or should do all of it. You would be stretched too thin, your efforts valiant, but less effective in your ambition.

None of this is to encourage inaction. Identify your unique strengths, skills, and privileges, and put them to use. Determine what causes are important to you, and commit to doing what you can to help them. Collective action is how change is made, but don’t forget that we need diversity in actions taken.

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you’ve been one of sukuna’s many concubines for quite a while now. yet, you still cannot get rid of the jealousy in your system whenever he interacts with the other women in his harem.

wc. idk around 1 to 2k

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. angst (hurt to comfort), fluff, suggestive at the end. heian era. you call sukuna ‘my lord’. reader gets called ‘brat, little girl’. size difference. no part2, don’t ask i beg. not beta read.

“get back here, brat,” sukuna raises his voice as he follows you. he isn’t one to care about others’ emotional outbursts, yet here he is, chasing you after you’ve poured out your heart to him.

you don’t know why you’re this upset. you do know, however, that it’s childish of you to walk away mid dinner. you should’ve just stayed seated and refuse to let the thoughts consume you.

now you’re speed walking down the hallways of the estate—your legs carrying you as fast as they can without actually making a run for it. your mind keeps replaying the ‘unsettling’ scene that caused you to flee.

you remember it vividly. the sound of sukuna’s low, amused chuckle. how intrigued it was because of something another concubine told him—how he stopped chewing to say something back to her. which he rarely does.

hell, you’ve never seen him laugh around his other concubines.

“i do not wish to talk to you right now, my lord,” you reply, voice raised so the distance wouldn’t make it a hassle for the king of curses to hear you. you know that feisty attitude of yours entertains sukuna to no end.

he raises an eyebrow once he’s heard your voice; how it’s dripping with envy and hurt. you’ve never reacted like that before—at least not in his presence. it made him want to figure out why and how.

though, he can easily guess the reasoning behind your sudden defiance.

“oh, that so?” sukuna hums. he’s lenient with you this time around. he could catch up to you in under a split second, but he decides to give you that sense of accomplishment first before completely destroying it. he walks after you slowly, your fast steps being the same tempo as his slow pace.

you don’t answer. you’re stubborn. you have no right to feel jealous. you are a fairly new concubine—only a couple months ago did you join sukuna’s harem. yet, the time spent with him was precious.

he treats you differently. everyone notices that. everyone tells you the same. you know he does by the way he lets you off the hook with most stuff you say and do.

you don’t know what you did to gain his favouritsm, but it’s addicting. his attention is addictive. real addictive.

you had sworn not to develop any unneccessary feelings for that ruthless sorcerer. but, with the way sukuna treated you so gently behind closed doors, it was impossible not to.

you eventually reach the doors to your chambers. you slide them open and wish to close them behind you, only for a big hand to halt those movements. you freeze in place and refuse to look up at the owner of that said hand.

“look up,” sukuna demands. his voice causes goosebumps to appear on your arms, but you still don't budge. he clicks his tongue. that’s your first warning. two more and your punishment will be carried out, “we can do this the hard way too if you want.”

you turn your head, your fingers curling around the material of your kimono. you really should not feel this way about a little interaction between sukuna and his other concubine. that is none of your concern. what he does with those other women is none of your concern.

and yet. . .

“i don't want to,” you retort. sukuna walks into your room with a sigh. each step he takes forwards, you take backwards. your back finally bumps against the wall next to your bed.

sukuna towers over you, his tall and big frame making you feel vulnerable. especially with the way those red eyes of his are staring down at you. he crosses all four of his arms before speaking.

“tell me what’s running through that head of yours,” sukuna inquires sternly. he isn’t playing around anymore, you can tell. you glance the other way—knowing that he will laugh at you the moment you tell him why you’re upset.

you have a feeling he knows the reason behind your tantrum anyway.

“it’s nothing of importance, my lord,” you shake your head and relax your tense shoulders to make you seem less upset. your words have some truth in them—you don’t think your feelings of envy hold any value to him.

sukuna sighs again. he’s trying his best not to be annoyed at you. you’re his favorite and he wishes not to sadden you any further. he steps forwards, one hand moving to cup the side of your face.

his rough fingers play with a string of your hair, “i’m not stupid, little girl. i don’t like it when my woman is in distress.”

your heart skips a beat. this is what confuses you—how he can go from stern to gentle and vice versa. it’s surprisingly unexpected, which makes you long for more. even if his behaviour is confusing.

you look up at sukuna. your eyes meet for the first time in a good couple minutes. the corner of sukuna’s lips curls up into a satisfied smirk. that’s one step closer to getting you to open up.

“now,” the king of curses lowers his head to your eye level, the proximity all the more nerve wracking. he holds your jaw super tightly out of the blue. it makes you whimper.

“spit it out.”

there it is. the duality of the man strikes once more. you swallow the spit that’s been building up in your mouth. you bite your bottom lip lightly, trying to gather and form the right words to explain yourself.

sukuna wouldn’t understand. he’s a cold-hearted man who doesn’t care about such ‘trivial’ matters. he’ll just call you stupid, pathetic or whatever other derogatory term.

you stop your thoughts for a moment.

“it’s really just a stupid thing,” you mutter. your fingers curl around sukuna’s wrist—the one hand he’s using to firmly hold your jaw. you take a deep breath in, “i did not like it when you, errr. . . when that woman talked to you at the dinner table.”

your voice is clearly dripping with jealousy. pure, pure jealousy. and for what? because he talked to his other concubine. you feel stupid. you thought you discarded your personal feelings for the sorcerer before you the moment you turned into one of his many women.

“that woman?” sukuna tilts his head, feigning ignorance. that little grin on his face tells you enough. he’s playing with you like some form of entertainment. well, technically you are.

he wants you to be specific. he’s forcing you to be by acting like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about.

in all honesty, sukuna’s already forgotten what that woman had said to him. it wasn’t and still isn’t worth remembering. all he can recall is your adorable facial expression when you saw him interact like that with his other concubine.

that little frown on your face was priceless. it makes him want to keep teasing you.

“you know who i am talking about, my lord,” you huff, trying to look away, but get stopped by sukuna readjusting his grip on your jaw. he firmly yet gently taps your cheek once and you know what it means.

“attitude,” sukuna warns with a quick hiss. he can let you say whatever you want to him, but you also have some limits regarding which tone you use with him. you apologise quietly under your breath.

the king of curses nods in satisfaction before releasing the grip on your jaw. his large hand trails down to your neck, thumb rubbing up and down your throat, “so, my little girl is mad at me because i talked to another concubine of mine, huh?”

you nod mindlessly. sukuna can easily get you to comply with him—to obey his every word, simply with his actions. the terms of endearment he uses are the cherry on top. they slip off his tongue so easily with you.

“tsk tsk,” sukuna shakes his head. his hand is now on the back of your head, fingers tangled into your hair. he’s staring down at you with a smug expression. he knows he’s got you wrapped around his finger, “how childish of you.”

you knew that would be one of the things he’d say to you. what you didn’t expect is for him to go for a kiss right after. his lips land on yours firmly, and to no surprise, you instantly return the gesture.

your arms wrap around his neck—your chest pressing against his. sukuna wastes no time in picking you up and letting your legs encircle his waist. he’s not pulling away for air to breathe and you don’t either.

“you’re going to listen to me, yeah?” sukuna murmurs between passionate kisses. he’s holding onto you tightly with two arms, his free hands roaming over your body whilst he pins you against the wall.

when you whimper out a weak, high-pitched ‘yes, my lord’, he smirks against your mouth before turning to kiss your neck. he slightly bites the skin to make sure you’re paying attention to him.

“i don’t remember what that woman said,” sukuna continues, nearly out of breath because of the kisses he’s leaving all over you. he easily grabs both your wrists and pins them above your head on the wall, “i was too busy lookin’ at a much prettier concubine of mine.”

he pulls back a little so he can look you in the eyes. you’re panting and embarrassed by what he just said. one of his hands finds your face again, tracing the shape of your mouth.

“my favourite,” sukuna whispers whilst licking his lips. you can see it in his eyes: he’s silently planning out how he’s going to remind you of your place. your place as his favorite concubine.

he dips his head back down, aiming for the valley between your breasts. he closes his eyes before sucking on the surrounding flesh;

“guess i’ll be nice for once ‘nd show you just what it means to be my favorite so that you’ll never dare forget it again.”

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

a darling and a virgin | f. odair

masterlist

summary: you are a victor from district four, having just ended your first victory tour. after being confronted by president snow, you have no choice but to lose your virginity. luckily, your previous mentor is willing to provide some guidance.

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: mentions of forced prostitution, angst, gentle smut, loss of virginity, fingering, lots of consent, praise, happy but also unhappy ending??, reader takes contraceptives.

notes: i’ve recently found that i’m incapable of writing short smut one shots so… i’m sorry y’all. love describing every detail too much.

word count: 6.8k

Your hands were clasped over the balcony railing of the penthouse you were spending the night in, the vibrant artificial lights of the Capitol burning your retinas as you overlooked the city. You had finally completed your first Victory Tour and were offered one more night in the Capitol to enjoy its ‘luxury’ and ‘generosity’ before returning to District Four in the morning.

For the past two weeks, you had read fabricated speeches to each District, resurfacing both your trauma from the Games and the families of the tributes you had murdered in the arena. The toll it was taking on you was heavy, but you managed to put on a splitting grin for every interview, speech, and disturbing congratulation. But not for your previous mentor, Finnick Odair.

Finnick had been there for you through the whole nightmare, even during the week before your Games. His support was unwavering which was one of the many reasons you had managed to survive from the moment you were Reaped to the end of the Tour. It was hard to tell when his mentorship had turned into something more complicated, but it had. It had become more about feelings than simply survival. Not a relationship per se, but not just a friendship either. You teetered on the line between the two, never crossing it and never discussing the fact that you were both aware of it either.

For six whole months.

When the final destination of the Tour came—the grand celebration at President Snow’s mansion—Finnick had told you it was the easiest part. All you had to do was manage a happy face, mingle with obnoxious Capitol citizens, and eat an abhorrent amount of food. He would have been right if you were a different person. If President Snow hadn’t demanded your singular presence at the end of the night.

You exhaled a shaky breath, watching the white mist drift into the light-polluted sky. The President’s words bounced around your head: Desirable… Customers... Family. The conversation played on a loop in your mind. You could remember the repugnant smell of roses, the overwhelming whiteness in the room, and the way his too-pleasant face lit up as fireworks exploded outside the window.

Shivers trickled down your spine, forming goosebumps that were borderline painful. The fact that you were on the ninetieth floor and wearing flimsy pyjama shorts and a thin long-sleeve shirt wasn’t helping either. The crisp wind blew against your body, but you had no intentions of moving to seek warmth. It felt appropriate to stay in the cold when your body would soon know nothing but unwelcome heat.

So lost in your spiralling thoughts, you failed to notice as another body silently took up space beside yours, warming up the side of your arm. This heat was welcome.

“Pretty cold out here.”

A startled gasp escaped your mouth. You straightened up and turned to the owner of the voice, only to find Finnick leaning against the railing, forearms over the edge the same as you.

“Sorry.” He chuckled. “I know my presence can be a little breathtaking sometimes. Nice shorts by the way.”

He turned his head turned to you, revealing his infamous flirtatious smirk. The dimples in his cheeks were prominent and charming. His bronze hair was perfectly dishevelled as usual, as if someone had purposefully placed each strand to give him the ‘sexy bed hair’ look. He was still wearing his white button-up and black trousers; the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows and a few buttons were undone, revealing his toned chest. The outfit had been accessorised with a metallic golden corset-like belt among other decorations that made him fit in with the Capitol crowd, but he must have taken them off. Now the outfit sort of resembled one that a boy would wear to a Reaping. Simple yet formal. Still gorgeous, not that he needed reminding.

Normally, you would retort with a snarky remark or, on the off occasion, flirt back, but instead, you resumed your previous position over the railings. You weren’t immune to Finnick’s charms; you praised anyone who was. You would usually be internally swooning at the sight of him, especially with the way he looked right now and his obvious flirting. But this night was much different. Flirting and swooning were at the back of your mind. All you could think about was your interaction with the president; the way his guards manhandled and escorted you to his study. The conversation that destroyed your hopes of a peaceful future.

Desirable. One word that sent ice coursing through your veins. Or snow, to be more poetic.

“I don’t think you’ve said a word since we got back,” said Finnick, still a hint of playfulness in his tone. He watched your gaze—eyes distant though not really seeing. It was clear something was wrong, so he continued, this time more softly. “You were gone during the fireworks.”

You remained unmoving, staring straight ahead at the city. Only when he uttered your name did he finally gain your attention. As you turned your head to face him, tears began to well up in your eyes.

Finnick noticed the silent distress in your expression and straightened up his stance. He towered over you, brows knitted together whilst his sea-green eyes flickered across your face, looking as if pieces were slowly falling together in his mind.

“He spoke with you, didn’t he?” he said. “Snow.”

To answer his question for you, a tear escaped your eye, but you were quick to swipe it away with a sniffle.

Your arms wound around your torso, hugging yourself as the words began flowing. “After I won my Games, when I was being crowned, he said something to me that I didn’t really understand." Your voice was gentle, just above a mere whisper. “Months passed and I’d forgotten all about it. Until now at least. He told me…” You swallowed the ache in your throat. “He told me, ‘I have big plans for you, Miss (L/N). I think you will be a very valuable asset to the Capitol citizens.’”

Finnick’s face had melted into an unreadable expression. His entire body turned to stone; it was like he was a marble statue portraying a Greek God. All of a sudden, he was sixteen again. He was in Snow’s study, being told that if he didn’t cooperate and essentially sell himself to the Capitol, his family would pay the price. And they did.

With a sad smile, you whispered, “I know what he meant now.”

Something inside him snapped and he broke from his stupor.

“No.” He vigorously shook his head. “He can’t do that. You can’t. I’ll go to him and—fuck!” His hand ran through his hair, making it even more dishevelled. The bright lights from the city were reflecting off his eyes, revealing the shine that was starting to gloss over them. “I can fix this for you, I swear I’ll—"

“Finnick.”

“He’s a fucking—”

“Finnick.” The plea in your voice ceased his panicked movements. He just stood there, looking completely and utterly helpless. You both did. Another tear slipped down your cheek as you stared at him, your voice wavering as you asked, “Can you hold me?”

He let out a breath as if the air had been knocked from his lungs and in one fell swoop, he stepped forward and pulled you into his arms. Silent tears began to flow more heavily, saturating his white shirt which he held you tightly against. There was a hand wrapped protectively around your lower back and another stroking the hair flowing over your neck.

You were certain Finnick let a few tears slip too because you could feel the cold breeze nip at the top of your head the slightest bit more. He mumbled the words “I’m so sorry” over and over into your hair but you just shook your head. You told him it wasn’t his fault, but he wouldn’t accept it. He had told you months ago about his arrangement with Snow. You couldn’t have imagined what it was like for him then, but you would be able to now. You would know every single little detail.

His embrace tightened as you turned your head and pressed your ear to his thumping chest.

The tears had stopped, and you managed to find your voice again. “Snow threatened to kill my family. What if the customers don’t think I’m good enough and he takes it out on them? I mean, I don’t have any experience.”

You remained silent, awaiting his response. When the hand stroking your hair halted, you realised your mistake. You realised what you had just admitted to him and mentally kicked yourself. Repeatedly.

Finnick moved both hands onto your forearms, gently pushing you away from him to get a clear view of your face. The surprise in his expression was enough to make you want to jump over the balcony ledge in embarrassment.

“You’re a virgin?”

Hearing the words out loud would have sent you over the edge—literally—if Finnick’s large hands weren’t wrapped around your arms. You tried to turn away from him, but his grip was unshakeable. Your eyes began to water again, and you felt pathetic.

“Hey,” he said tenderly as he tried to regain your eye contact. “It’s not a bad thing.”

Your distraught red-rimmed eyes snapped back to him. “Not a bad thing? Of course it’s a bad thing, Finnick! I have to give my body to a stranger despite never even having my first kiss! Let alone sex!” As you said the words, the full reality of your situation began to set in. Panic turned to sadness as you realised yet again, the Capitol was taking another innocence you thought was your own to give away. You looked down, your tone becoming quieter. “I thought my first time would be special. Or at least with someone I loved.”

God, you felt so embarrassed admitting that to him. Sure, a lot of your conversations were flirty and full of sensual banter. Sex, however, was not a topic that came up very frequently. You would never want to accidentally cross a line with Finnick, especially given what Snow forced upon him. So you liked to avoid the subject as much as possible. Now, it was inescapable.

He released his grip and sighed heavily, looking out toward the view as if he were deep in thought. The vivid city lights cast an unnatural hue on his usually golden-tanned skin; even now the Capitol was changing him into something he wasn’t. His eyes shut for a quick second before he reopened them and looked back at you. The only time he had looked this serious was the morning of your Games and the night you returned. It was a little intimidating.

His jaw ticked and his gaze bore down into your own. “Sweetheart, I’m going to ask you something,” he began, “and I want you to know you do not have to say ‘yes’ if you don’t want to, okay?”

Alright, now he was really starting to scare you.

“Okay,” you said warily.

The hardness on his face remained for a moment longer, but then his expression softened and became the most vulnerable you had ever seen.

His voice was gentle. “Do you want me to take your virginity?”

*************

You were sat on the edge of Finnick’s bed, toying with the black satin sheets with a frown. Your room didn’t get satin sheets. It was probably one of the benefits of being the Capitol Darling. Not that you envied him very much. He would probably be content with sleeping on a dirt floor if it meant he got his autonomy back.

Finnick was in the bathroom doing God knows what. You weren’t sure if he was trying to make himself more presentable or hyping himself up to have sex with you. The latter worried you. The last thing you wanted was to pressure him into something he didn’t want to do. Then again, he was the one who asked.

After you had told him “Yes, please”, he had tentatively but oh-so-gently taken your hand in his and guided you inside and to his room. Neither of you had spoken along the way; you just walked in silence toward something that would either ruin or deepen your relationship. Despite being two victors, this was still a mentor making sure his tribute stayed alive.

You heard the bathroom door slide open and looked up to see Finnick standing outside the door. Shirtless, pants still on, and towel in hand. It took everything in you to not stare at his perfectly sculptured torso, his equally toned arms, or his broad and muscular shoulders. Instead, your eyes met his for a split second before you returned to the satin sheets.

Blood rushed to your head and everything felt too real. Finnick Odair was standing before you, looking like an angel and willing to fu—

“You’re allowed to look, you know,” he chuckled.

But your gaze remained on the bed.

“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“You won’t.’” He spread the towel on the bed, positioning it in the middle. Then he stopped his movements as he realised what you meant. “It’s not like that. I’m not being forced to do this. I want to.”

Your head snapped up and your heart leapt as those three words left his lips—I want to. For a second, you believed him, but then reasoning came to deflate your hopefulness.

“You wouldn’t want to if I weren’t in this situation.”

He let go of the towel, sitting down mere inches beside you, his eyes amused despite the solemn context. “And how do you know that?”

“Because…” you trailed off, searching your brain for an explanation only to find none. “Because.”

He smirked. “We need to work on your argumentative skills, sweetheart.”

A small smile worked its way across your lips. He returned it with a comforting smile of his own, though the sense of playfulness never left. It never really did and that was one of the things you admired most about him. Even in the darkest of situations, he was able to provide some light.

Rosy heat crept into your cheeks and you were forced to break eye contact again. Hiding how much he affected you was pointless now; if this was going to work out, you needed to be vulnerable with him. With each other. You looked down at the space between your bodies. His hand was resting on the bed beside him and soon enough, it was slowly creeping across the sheets over to your own. He gently brushed his fingers across your knuckles before sliding his hand beneath your palm and interlocking it with yours. You couldn’t help but notice how small your hand looked compared to his, feeling butterflies flutter around your stomach at the small observation.

The both of you silently watched your intertwined hands. That is until Finnick decided to speak up.

“I would,” he said ambiguously, caressing the side of your hand with his thumb. “I would still want to. Even in different circumstances.”

The blush on your face reddened even more; your cheeks were on fire at this point. Even in different circumstances. Was that his way of confessing… that he did have feelings for you? It wasn’t exactly explicit, but it was certainly implied. Oh god, you didn’t know what to think.

You didn’t bother to reply; words probably would have failed you anyway. You just gave his hand a slight squeeze in acknowledgement—well, it was more in appreciation. It was obvious how hard he was trying to make you feel comfortable, but no matter how hard he tried, you couldn’t shake the nerves that were rattling your entire being.

Sex was a pretty big milestone—to you, at least—and here you were, on the precipice with someone you trusted with your life. Did you love Finnick? You weren’t sure. What you did know was that your feelings for him were deep, and even though neither of you had ever clearly confessed to each other, you knew he felt something for you too. Which made everything all the more daunting.

“Are you nervous?” he asked softly.

You nodded.

“We still don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

You shook your head, lifting your gaze to his. “No, I—”

His eyebrows pulled inwards, awaiting your answer. His eyes were so inviting and full of understanding, if you hadn’t lost the ability to form full sentences, you would have found yourself spilling all your secrets to him. He was so patient with you. So good. You had to rethink your uncertainty about loving him.

“I…” you tried again. Your eyes flickered back and forth from his sea-green eyes to his soft, pink lips. As shameful as it felt to admit, you had imagined what it would feel like to have his lips on yours many times before. Usually right before you went to sleep. Never would you have thought the day would come when it would actually happen.

He was still caressing the side of your palm, silently reassuring you, encouraging you to communicate with him. You sighed, closing your eyes. If he wanted you to communicate, then you would.

“Finnick,” you whispered. “Kiss me.”

Your words drifted into the air, stilling everything in the room—the air, Finnick’s hand. Your heart. He just stared at you, unblinking, unmoving, like someone had hit pause on the television at the tensest moment. The tension was tearing you apart and you almost got up and left the room. But you didn’t. Because suddenly, the sides of your face were cupped by large hands and his lips were on yours.

Finnick Odair was kissing you.

His lips pressed against yours once more in one long close-mouthed kiss before leaving again. Shock came and left within seconds and you found the courage to copy his actions. Your lips locked perfectly onto his, remaining still, enjoying the pressure and tingly warmth of simply having them connected. Then your lips moved to kiss him again. And again, and again until soon enough, his tongue had slyly slid into your mouth and you had somehow instantaneously become a master at French kissing.

This kiss felt familiar, despite it being your first. Like something you had done millions of times before, but only with him. Like having his lips on yours was the most natural thing to ever exist.

A hand moved onto your waist and suddenly you were being pulled onto his lap, legs straddling his lap. Your hands fell on his chest, mindlessly wandering and feeling the toned muscles ripple underneath your palms as he pulled you closer by the neck to deepen the kiss. Damn the people of the Capitol, but they were right to say he was an incredible kisser.

“Finn,” you huffed in between kisses, “have you got a rock in your pants?”

He pecked your lips once more with a smirk, resting his forehead against yours as you both attempted to catch your breaths. “No,” he chuckled. “I’ve just got a beautiful girl on my lap.”

Your eyes opened to see him grinning at you with mischief. Oh.

“Is that okay?” he asked.

You nodded jerkily. “Ye—Yes, that’s okay.”

“Okay, good.”

Biting your lip, you looked down between your bodies. Curiously, you rocked your hips along the length of his lap once, earning a quiet grunt from him.

He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “Careful,” his voice was low, tempting.

And of course, in full defiance, you did it again. His warning was a bluff. He made no real action to prevent you from grinding any further on his erection, so you kept moving, and he kept revealing how good it made him feel. The thin fabric of your shorts created a little barrier between his hard lap and the growing sensitivity between your thighs.

Meanwhile, you found yourself never wanting to be parted from Finnick’s lips. With every rock of your hips, your hands ran over every inch of his upper body, eventually settling in his hair. The way he kissed reminded you of stories of District Twelve. A district full of hunger and desperation. Only what Finnick was craving wasn’t the fullness of food in his stomach, but the desire to devour you whole. To ravage you. And by God, would you give anything to satiate him.

Forget what you thought before. This wasn’t just a victor keeping his tribute alive. As clear as the sea on a sunny day, this was a man giving himself over to a woman he loved. You. Finnick loved you.

When you pulled back to tentatively lift your shirt over your head, his eyes stayed on yours. Your breasts were literally bare and he just continued to scan the features of your face. However, you did notice the subtle shift in his breathing.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, stroking the side of your breast.

A shy, cheek-warming smile crept on your face and then suddenly, Finnick was rolling you over. Your head fell back onto the soft silk pillows, Finnick hovering above you. This position remained for a long while, the time spent simply kissing each other, alternating between deep tongue-filled kisses and soft sweet pecks. There were moments when you both stopped to flirt or giggle. These were the times you entirely forgot the whole reason you were doing this in the first place.

It was just you and Finnick. Two new lovers in a perfect world.

After a while, your lips had swollen with warm, passionate heat. You were flushed and you didn’t even need to look to know your hair was already a tangled mess. But you didn’t care.

One of Finnick’s hands had begun to wander down your stomach, breaking the established pattern of merely making out. You knew what was coming and surprisingly, you weren’t afraid. Unlike outside the penthouse apartment, there was no danger. Not in this room, in this bed, or in the hands that caressed you. He grazed across the skin beneath your belly button, causing your body to flinch up into his.

Of course, he smirked at that—the smug asshole.

He returned to your lips before lowering down to your neck and sucking soft, red marks into your fragile skin. His fingers found the edge of your waistband. At this point, you were already breathing like a marathoner.

His lips detached from your neck. “Can Itouch you?”

“Yes, please,” you breathed.

As he travelled down, down beneath your waistband, he pecked your reddened lips once more. A soft gasp escaped you and warmth tingled between your thighs. His fingers were gentle as he began circling that sweet, sensitive spot only you had ever touched. Having someone else touch you felt so much more different, so much more exquisite. Your body responded to his touch immediately, hips following each movement of his fingers, breaths quickening in pace.

Finnick gazed down at you, observing each pleasured twist of your expression. He began to pick up the pace as he noticed your body familiarising itself with the sensation. More pressure was applied and the gasps leaving your mouth were gradually turning into quiet moans.

“This feel okay?” he asked. Obviously, he knew the answer, but after years of having others take advantage of him, he couldn’t help but want to hear your willingness. Your consent.

But you weren’t sure if the words could form. Everything felt like it was vibrating. All you could do was focus on the pleasure his fingers were building.

“Come on, sweetheart. You can tell me.”

His voice had taken on that seductive purr he was well-known for and you just couldn’t deny him. It took everything inside you to muster up the words. “It—it feels so good.”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. The gesture was so sweet, you could have cried. So sweet even with his hand stroking between your legs and his hard cock pressing against your thigh. Time slowed as his fingers sped up. Muscles in your stomach were tightening. Your insides were churning—not like when you first entered your Games’ arena, but in the best way possible. It was a sensation you had never felt before, but before it could build any more, Finnick’s hand stilled. And you genuinely whined at the loss of friction.

Then his hand moved even lower, resting a singular finger over your slick entrance. Your eyes were wide, unsure of how to feel with the sudden turn of events.

Finnick’s eyes flickered between your own. "You trust me?”

You weren’t sure if an easier question existed. “I do.”

And his lips were on yours again, deep and sensual. His tongue rolled over your own, pushing forward and then retreating in a perfect rhythm. He almost successfully distracted you from the feeling of his middle finger sinking into you knuckle-by-knuckle. Some sort of sound resembling a mix of discomfort and surprise vibrated in your throat as his finger bottomed out.

There wasn’t much pain. It was just an odd feeling.

Your lips parted from his and he looked down at you, his eyes holding an immense amount of security as he communicated through your shared gaze.

Does it hurt?

You gave him a gentle smile. No. Keep touching me.

He returned your smile with a grin. Gladly.

His buried finger curled, shooting a sharp pang up into your stomach which caused your back to arch up against his bare torso. Whether you considered it painful or pleasurable was uncertain. Perhaps a mix of both. He did it again. This time you settled on describing it as a tight twinge in your lower stomach which sent a wave of chills down your legs. Definitely pleasurable. Only, he stopped indulging you with the sensation after the second time.

Instead, you felt another finger slowly slip inside you and whimpered. Now that hurt. You felt your inner walls stretch with the second addition and it stung. Especially when he began to scissor his fingers inside you. This was him preparing you for the real deal. How you were supposed to have Finnick inside you when just his fingers had you stuffed was incomprehensible. But you allowed him to keep going, trying to enjoy the comforting kisses he pampered onto you.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he said.

Your hands moved to push back his messy bronze hair as he hovered above you. His dimples deepened with a grin and you swore you would endure any pain to keep them etched on his face. After he deemed you stretched out enough, he slowly rose to his knees, unbuttoning his trousers and throwing them aside. You couldn’t do anything but stare. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

The way you gulped was almost cartoonish. How the hell was he supposed to fit? You had never seen a man naked before—you weren’t even sure Finnick was human. He had a body sculptured by the Gods, a face carved by angels, and a… well, let’s just say he didn’t disappoint in any other areas. You weren’t sure if the smug look on his face was real or a carefully curated mask created for his Capitol customers. By the way it quickly washed away, you could tell it was the latter.

He began sliding your shorts down your legs, tossing them to the floor. Suddenly, you felt extremely vulnerable. Almost inferior. Your knees fell together, concealing the most private part of yourself from him. You avoided his gaze, cheeks becoming red and hot as he observed your naked frame. He had a way of looking at you as if you were a long-forgotten masterpiece, rediscovered from centuries of being lost. No one had looked at you like that before him.

Gently, he pried apart your legs and you didn’t bother trying to resist. Only when he descended and settled between your legs did the insecurity dwindle into the background of your mind. Your naked bodies were hot against each other. His weight pinned you against the bed. Everything that was yours touched all that was his. You thought this experience would feel like a dream, but it all felt so real. You were nervous, you were trembling, and your breaths were shaky.

Finnick was quick to recognise the nervousness radiating off you. His arm curled beneath you, somehow pulling you even closer, meanwhile, his other arm rested beside your head. He brushed strands of hair away from your face, soothing you with his tender touch.

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

You nodded. You wanted this—wanted Finnick. It was just the anticipation that was killing you. Your thighs squeezed his sides to tell him you were ready. For a few moments longer, he restarted the pattern of sweet kisses, rolling tongues, and the warmth of blood rushing to your head. His hand was caressing your cheek; yours were splayed on his back, gliding over the rippled muscles.

Then finally, he shifted, his hand moving south to align himself with your entrance. All you could do was watch his focused expression. This was the moment. The threshold of your relationship would be ­­crossed as soon as he pushed forward. There was no one else you wanted to share the experience with because you knew this wasn’t just sex. Not for him or for you; it was more than that. Something bordering spiritual, breaking the bounds of physical pleasure and entering into a deep emotional connection. Something no paying customer of the Capitol could provide.

He was gazing down at you, half-cradling your head as he began to say, “Are you su—" But before he could finish, you had pressed your lips to his, answering his question. You were sure. He nodded in response.

His eyes were hesitant he began to push his tip between your folds. Your fingers dug into his back, more from anxiety than anything else. It became a game of stopping and starting as he moved deeper inside inch-by-inch, allowing your walls time to adjust around him. Never had you seen someone’s face filled with so many emotions—concentration, controlled gratification, affection. So many feelings twisted his expression. Meanwhile, yours held only one. Discomfort. He was so big; you felt like you were being split apart and he wasn’t even fully inside yet.

Finally, when his pelvis connected with yours, you exhaled a heavy breath. It hurt. Bad. Finnick had the right idea to lay down a towel because you definitely needed it. He had you filled to the brim, stretched out and stuffed. Even the slightest shift in his position had your hands flying to his shoulders in pain.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes, just—” You bit your lip in an attempt to suppress a whimper. “Just go slow.”

He nodded. You smiled. Then for some odd reason, you laughed. And then so did he. Finnick’s face fell into the crook of your neck, muffling his boyish laughs into your skin. The added movements had your insides dully aching, but you didn’t pay it much attention. The moment was so innocently intimate that you wanted to stay in it forever. He lifted his head to press his grinning lips to yours and the laughter began to dissipate. Your mouths moved slowly together, full of heat and fervent emotion, and suddenly, Finnick’s body began to move too.

Careful as not to harm you, he slid himself backward in one slow motion and then pushed forward again in another. Pain stung at your inner walls and your lips left his as a gasp escaped your mouth. You were tempted to close your eyes whilst riding out the discomfort but couldn’t bring yourself to look away from Finnick’s face. He was so mesmerizingly beautiful.

His cheeks were a baby pink. Lips were a rosy red. There was a thin sheen covering his forehead, slightly wrinkled by his furrowed brows. Those messy bronze locks you adored so much fell in strands across his forehead. The evident concentration and care on his face just made him look all the more picturesque.

While you admired his features, you started to notice the pain accompanying his slow thrusts was becoming more tolerable. There was still a sting, but also a dull twinge in your stomach that had you biting your bottom lip. It felt sort of… nice. And you wanted to experiment with that feeling.

Your hands were hooked around his shoulders. “Faster.”

Are you sure? His lustful eyes spoke.

You pulled him back down to your mouth. Absolutely.

And so, his hips started to rock back and forth at a faster pace. You could feel yourself clench around his cock from the change of rhythm but forced yourself to relax. He thrust in and out, rubbing against the ripples of your walls, tip brushing at a spot inside you that was anything but pain. That is what you focused on—that one sweet spot.

Time went on and he gradually increased his speed. Your lips were swollen and red, no doubt from the way he would nip and suck on your bottom lip in between each flick of his tongue. His breaths were coming out louder, heavier, as were your own. Soon enough, you were in a rhythm that was both pleasurable for him and for you. The pain lingered but it was no longer unbearable. A shudder ran down your body and your pussy fluttered around him. Finnick broke away from your lips with a breathy groan that you swore you could feel in the pit of your stomach.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

His thrusts became a little faster, a little more painful. A hand slipped down between your bodies and the pain faded quicker than it came. He was rubbing circles around your clit, occasionally running his fingers across it which caused you to lurch upward. All of a sudden, you came to the realisation that everything bad that had been clouding your mind had disappeared. The ache, the confrontation with Snow. Everything. The only thing you could focus on was the pleasure slowly building between your thighs and in your stomach. And Finnick. His tantalising eyes. His wicked mouth. His throbbing cock.

People always said your first time would be horrible; this was anything but. Maybe it had to do with the fact that you… loved him? Yeah, you loved him. Also because he was something of an expert at sex. You were in a pretty unlucky predicament but having Finnick willingly fucking you was a blessing.

His fingers were relentless, applying the perfect amount of pleasure that had you writhing beneath him. And added with the sensation of his cock repeatedly hitting that spot inside you, your uneven breaths turned into soft moans. He fucked, he rubbed, he nipped and sucked at the delicate skin of your neck. Heat was enveloping your entire body.

“Finnick,” you moaned.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” His voice was strained and hoarse.

His hand left your clit, hooking around your thigh, and curling it around his back so he could thrust even deeper. He restarted his rhythm of rubbing circles, but his thrusts felt different. Instead of just brushing that sensitiveness deep inside you, he was mercilessly hitting it. Over and over. Your moans were louder now; Finnick was more vocal too, grunting and occasionally uttering words of praise.

This went on for a while. His stamina was incredible—if you had a moment to think, you would have realised the depressing reasoning behind it. But you couldn’t think at all. Your heel was digging into his back; nails scratching at his skin. Both of you had a layer of sweat covering your bodies, skin wet, slapping and sliding over one another. Your pheromones had filled the room with the smell of sex, driving your need to finish.

Finnick’s mouth had been everywhere at this point. Your lips, your neck, shoulders, and breasts. Everywhere except your pussy, not that it really mattered anymore.

It was hard for you to comprehend how fucking amazing the sensations you felt were. There was heat and pressure pooling in your stomach, increasing at a slow pace, and growing more powerful by the minute. Finnick’s hips moved at a steady pace, but his hand had begun to slow. Even he had to succumb to fatigue at some point. He sounded like he had run for miles though was obviously pushing himself on for your benefit.

Instead of ceasing his tiring hand movements entirely, he switched hands. And that was when the heat in your stomach turned into a blazing inferno. He was much faster now. Applied more pressure. Your head fell back against the pillow with a cry. His cock was throbbing inside you at the sound.

“That feel good? Huh?” he practically moaned.

He left kisses across the stretch of your neck, running his tongue over the skin and leaving behind red marks.

“Yes!” you cried out.

Your entire body felt like it was being dipped into a white-hot flame of pleasure and the feeling was only increasing. It was clear Finnick felt the same way. His thrusts were becoming more frantic, he was cursing left and right, and he was practically pulsing inside you.

The heat in your stomach was overwhelming but you needed more.

“Finnick, I feel—I feel—” You couldn’t describe even it.

Finnick nodded, breathing heavily above you. God, he looked gorgeous. “You’re gonna come.”

Your half-lidded needy eyes met his. Something about him saying those words sent a wave of acceleration through your body. You hadn’t known what the edge was until you were on the brink of coming, and there was no stopping it. His cock plunged in and out, pushing deep inside you, practically rocketing your orgasm to the surface with each thrust. His fingers moved at such an intense pace you didn’t even know was physically possible.

As your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth fell open and every frantic breath, moan, and cry was able to escape. Finnick had the same problem. Fuck, he sounded so sexy, it only spurred you on.

Then it hit you all at once. “Fu—"

Every inch of your body tensed. You were sent into a space where white noise filled your hearing and bliss was all you knew. No pain. No sadness. Just ecstasy. Electric sparks jolted up and down your body, rising to your head, and causing you to see stars behind your closed eyes. Your moans were uncontrollable and desperate, voicing Finnick’s name over and over.

His thrusts were frenzied and sloppy, prolonging your orgasm as long as he could. He had lifted your lower back into an arch, enhancing the sensation coursing through your body. Your walls were clenching and pulsing around him, so much that he was abruptly thrown into his own high. His hips stuttered and eventually, his cock filled you as deep as he could, spurting out warm strings of white that coated your inner walls.

He collapsed on top of you, face buried in the crook of your neck. Your fingers wound into his hair, clinging to him as the aftershocks of your orgasm ravaged your body. Legs trembling and mouth panting, you lay there allowing yourself to regain your breath and ability to move.

After pressing a lazy kiss to your neck, Finnick slid off you, falling onto the bed beside you. Hopefully the towel was enough to save the silk sheets.

Now that you were resting, exhaustion had the chance to cloud your mind. You weren’t sure what the customs were after sex—whether you made conversation or simply went to sleep. The latter sounded pretty good though. A warm hand slipped beneath your back, turning your body sideways and pulling you so you were half strewn across Finnick’s chest and legs. You made no effort to resist.

Eyes closed, you listened to the heart beating inside his ribs. Thrumming intensely though starting to return to a normal rate.

“Are you okay?” he asked with a murmur, sounding utterly drained.

His thumb drew gentle patterns on the skin of your waist.

You nodded against his chest, remaining silent. After a little while you finally decided to speak. “I’m glad it was you.” And then after a few more moments of silence, you added, “I wish it was just you.”

You felt him press his lips to the top of your head. A long and emotional kiss. The whole reasoning behind losing your virginity returned to mind. It felt heavy, weighing down the atmosphere in the room. No matter how hard you tried to deny it, what was coming was inevitable. You wouldn’t get to stay with Finnick in this bed. You wouldn’t get to belong to him, or he you. You both belonged to the Capitol. To Snow. No matter how much you wished to belong to each other.

He whispered, “Me too.”

[lemonlover1110]

𝐀 𝐃𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃

Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader

Summary: Your husband usually calls for you to join him during his bath.

Warnings: MDNI, mentions of Sukuna killing people, rough pregnancy, Sukuna being fluffy (so slightly ooc), reader is mean to Sukuna

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Ever since you shared the news of your pregnancy with your husband, Sukuna has become more loving. The man who’d talk to you however he wanted, now makes sure to soften his voice when talking to you. He wants to see you every hour of the day, even when you don’t want to see him. Sukuna is seeing how you’re struggling with your pregnancy, and he wants to check up on you constantly.

You’re not too far along that you both know of, yet you’re huge. He grows worried that his selfish want of a child will cause you harm. There’s one person that Sukuna would die for, and it’s you. If something were to happen to you because of himself then he’d– He doesn’t want to think of it.

Lately he’s been asking to take baths with you. At the end of the day, a servant walks into your chambers and informs you, “Lord Sukuna requests for you to join him in his bath, mistress.”

She bows her head to not look at you, scared that she’ll end up like the last servant that dared to look you in the eye. It was Sukuna’s doing because how dare someone look his wife in the eye? You sigh before telling her, “I’ll be there in a second.” 

She stands in the entrance of your room, given orders to not leave without you. Sure, Sukuna requests to see you but it’s an order from him. You don’t have much of an option. 

You follow behind her, and she excuses herself when you’re finally with him. Sukuna lays comfortably in the water, patiently waiting for you to get undressed and join him in the water. He watches as you take off all your garments and walk over to him when you’re completely bare. 

“You need to start leaving me alone, you’re starting to annoy me.” You tell him as you get in the water. Sukuna chuckles, finding it amusing how you’ve completely stopped fearing him. One of his hands caresses you from your breasts to your bump, resting there.

“Now, why are you getting mad at me? I thought you wanted a loving husband?” Sukuna comments, kissing the top of your head. Your hand rests on top of his, lightly squeezing it.

“I wanted one before he got me pregnant. I swear I must be carrying twins– Or the baby also has four arms. I don’t know, I’m just miserable.” You confess, and Sukuna kisses the top of your head again. He really shouldn’t have expected it to be any different. Sukuna’s huge, why would his baby be any different?

“It’s just one and done then?” He asks, and you hum in response. Maybe your answer will be different in a few years, but for now it’s that. He feels a tug on his heartstrings, seeing how much you’re struggling. He’s worried. “Are you holding up okay, though?”

“Not like we could do anything if I wasn’t.” You answer. He’s definitely much softer than your usual husband, and you would’ve loved it if you weren’t carrying a monster child. His hand remains on your stomach, and he feels as his baby kicks while you moan in pain. Sukuna shushes you, feeling as his baby moves.

“I’m trying to feel him! Shut up, woman!” He raises his voice, and you slightly turn to glare at him. A look that would surely kill you if you were anyone else.

“How does me making noise correlate with you feeling the baby! Think, Sukuna! Use your fucking brain.” You’re definitely bolder than usual, which makes him laugh. 

“You’re so beautiful when you’re yelling at me.” He says, grabbing your hand and bringing it up to his lips so he can kiss it. “I love seeing you demanding and mean. It shows the effect I have on you.”

“Really?” You answer, and he hums in response. There’s no better time to bring up what’s been bugging you than now. “I hate that new servant you took in. Kick her out.”

“And why is that?” He asks. 

“She was looking at you funny.” You respond.

“In the sense?”

“She has the hots for you, and I don’t like it.”

“Hmm… What if I was looking for–” He begins and you glare at him. He doesn’t have much of a sense of humor, but he guesses that’s something that’s off limits when he tries to joke. “Don’t you want me to do more?”

“Like what?” You question, even though you should know your husband better than anyone.

“Kill her.” He answers. 

“Hmm… Up to you.” You reply. You lay comfortably on his chest, feeling as his finger traces lazy circles on your belly. You change the topic, “Why do you think it’s a boy?”

“I can’t see myself with a daughter.”

[spacelazarwolf]

apparently a bunch of ppl on social media are trying to call for a boycott of rick riordan because of this statement in a blog post:

Becky and I are just back from a busy weekend with events at the Boston Book Festival and New York Comic-Con.

Before I get into that, however, some words to acknowledge the ongoing horrors in Israel and Gaza. As many of you may know, I am no longer on social media. My accounts post only updates on my books and related projects. I do not read posts, reply to posts, or share my thoughts about world events on those forums. That doesn’t mean I don’t have strong feelings and reactions. It means I am offline as completely as possible, except for the occasional blog post like this one.

I will say this: Over the last eighteen years, I have received many fan letters from young readers, both Israeli and Palestinian, who often told me that my books helped them escape the fear, grief and anxiety they were dealing with at the time. Some had lost family members to violence. Some were writing while in the distance they could hear explosions, gunfire, and the launching of rockets. They used my books as a way to escape into another world, where the monsters were fictional, and where demigods usually saved the day. While I am always glad that my books can help young readers find joy during difficult times, my heart breaks every time I hear about the things they have to deal with. I am grief-stricken by the horrific events now unfolding, especially because I know that they are part of a long historic pattern that has been robbing too many children of their childhood and perpetuating hatred for far too long.

I am also quite aware that when anyone, myself included, tries to speak about this issue, the reader is waiting to pounce, thinking, “Yes, but whose side are you on?” That is exactly the wrong question. If there are two sides to this issue, those sides are not Palestinian/Israeli or Muslim/Jewish. The two sides are humanitarian and dehumanizing. Dehumanizing has a long evil history. It is appealing and easy to buy into, because humans are tribal animals. We are hardwired to think in terms of ‘us’ versus ‘them.’ We are the real humans, the good guys, the ones with God on our side. Those other people are evil monsters who don’t deserve empathy. Hate mongers have thrived on dehumanizing for as long as there have been humans. It provides them with a purpose, a way to rally support, power, and scapegoats. It is easy to point to atrocities committed by our enemies, while justifying or minimizing the atrocities committed by ourselves or our allies.

Humanitarianism is a much harder sell. It requires us to empathize, to see other groups of people as equally deserving of dignity and quality of life. It requires not always putting ourselves and our needs first. But in the long run, humanitarianism is our only hope. If violence could end violence, if we could put an end to “those other people” once and for all, human history would read very differently than it does.

So yes, I am appalled by the Hamas attacks on Israeli civilians. I am appalled by the suffering of Palestinian civilians in Gaza. Both things can be true. Both things must be true. My thoughts are with all the people who have died, who have lost loved ones, who have had their worlds and their lives shattered, especially the children. More death and violence will not break this cycle, which has been going on for generations. There is no military solution. Even since I first wrote the post, only twenty-four hours ago, the Israeli government’s brutal retaliation against the entire population of Gaza has reached genocidal proportions. This is not only an atrocity. It is folly. Answering misery with misery only creates more fertile ground for extremism, dehumanizing the “other side,” letting hate mongers thrive, stay in power, and reduce us all to our most monstrous impulses. The only real solution is treating each other like equally worthy human beings, and negotiating a peace that allows all parties a chance to live in security and dignity, with hopes for a future that does not include bombs and rockets and gunfire. This means security and support for Israel, yes. It also means a secure Palestine which is allowed to get the international aid and recognition it needs to build a viable state.

Do I think that will happen? Unfortunately, no. Humans are simply too selfish, too ready to blame “the other” for all their problems, too ready to dehumanize, though I also believe, perhaps paradoxically, that most people just want to live their lives in peace and have a chance for their children to have a brighter future. The problem is when we don’t allow other people to have those same hopes and dreams — when it becomes a false choice of us versus them.

What can I do? I will continue to write books that I hope will give young readers some joy. I will resist the urge to demonize entire groups of people. I will call for less violence, not more violence. And when asked whose side I am on, I will tell you I am on the side of humanitarianism.

So with that said, I return to the world of books . . .

honestly, if you have a problem with this statement, it’s probably because he’s talking about you. this is exactly what legitimate activists (as in not just random westerners who share social media posts but on-the-ground activists who are doing real work) have been saying for decades. and i think all this really speaks to just how disconnected a lot of westerners who claim to be pro palestinian are from those activists.

if you can’t read a statement that says “i am on the side of humanitarianism and less violence” without immediately jumping to cancel them, you are the problem being discussed in the above statement.

[mediacircuspod]

This scene was absolutely beautiful BUT it’s also the crux of the issue. You guys this is where the problems start. Because—because Crowley’s already cast out, he finds COMFORT in the idea that they are lonely together. “As far as he can” becoming “as far as they can” is an END to his complete “otherness” and something to appreciate, to covet, and to find solace in. He’s finally not alone.

But—and this is important.

Aziraphale does NOT feel that. He can’t.

This moment is completely and utterly devastating for Zira. He finds out he’s not damned and sure, he’s relieved. But he’s no longer “an Angel” in the way that he’s learned is right. He’s now unchangeably and forever; less holy—a concept that is dearly important to his identity. “[Going] along with heaven as far as he can” is a FAILING on his part. Not heaven’s(at least to him). There is no solace or comfort—he finds existence like that—just the two of them—achingly LONELY. And that’s just how his perspective demands to be taken. It’s the only perspective he is capable of in that moment AND after it, too.

Take into account Crowley has went from having no one AT ALL to having SOMEONE. And he puts EVERYTHING he has into it. This is not good. It’s unfair to Aziraphale. And it’s unfair to himself. On the opposite side, you have Aziraphale. Who has just went from having the ENTIRE HEAVENLY HOST, to having this SINGLE demon— who, one minute ago, Aziraphale thought would be dragging him off to hell.

And the part that aches is that this perspective hasn’t changed. Aziraphale feels like his existence is lacking because he wants so badly to be GOOD. And good is Holy. Good is heavenly. He’s the problem for having morals that are misaligned.

Spoilers for the last episode:

Aziraphale has just been given the validation that he is not only GOOD but the most HEAVENLY Angel there is, the Supreme Archangel, even. And if heavens morals are now HIS morals, then that’s EVERY PROBLEM SOLVED. With a bow even, because Crowley’s basically on heavens side anyway, he’s GOOD, isn’t he? He’s been good this whole time, so why wouldn’t heaven want him back? Reinstating him as Angel would fix everything. They can be together, and they can be good, and they can be HOLY. All Aziraphale’s conflicting emotions about loving Crowley can be packed away because Crowley will be perfect again—and surely Crowley wants to be perfect—wants to be forgiven.(sorry everyone, that hurt me too, oof) Aziraphale is SHOCKED by Crowley’s refusal. He’s devastated that his version of perfect is treated as something naive and distasteful.

Crowley’s devastated too. He’s just lost “their side”. A concept that for 5000+ years has been THE ONLY THING he puts love into besides his car and perhaps his plants(And humanity, but he’ll never admit to that—I’m looking at the “No more dying” scene). Crowley is constantly being devastated by Aziraphale. He’s “too fast”, he’s too evil, he’s too good sometimes. Crowley has always been TOO MUCH. But this is different because for four years, he’s had “them”(on their own side) without the hiding, and without the denial and without Aziraphale constantly putting former jobs between them. PLUS he has a mountain of trauma centered around the concept of “forgiveness”, so that’s not great considering Aziraphale’s last words to him(THAT HE HASNT SAID ALL SEASON EVEN WHEN HE MADE CROWLEY APOLOGIZE IN THE FIRST EPISODE, AHHHHH). He’s losing everything and he’s desperate: Why isn’t he enough, hasn’t he been enough these last 4 years? Hasn’t HE been enough the last 6000?

Aziraphale has always been enough for Crowley. But being enough for Crowley doesn’t fix how Aziraphale has never been enough for himself, not since Job. He looks at this offer as a chance for HIM to be enough, and for Crowley to be FORGIVEN. Crowley looks at it as a betrayal because it’s Aziraphale saying Crowley ISNT enough, and he NEVER has been.

But that’s not what Aziraphale is saying. He’s saying, “Let me fix it for you”. Crowley is hearing, “Let me fix you for it.” Two completely different and completely horrifying concepts.

And then Crowley needs to say HIS piece(oh my gosh, btw, this was heartbreaking).

“Let’s be together on our terms” is basically what I’ve distilled it down to. But Aziraphale hears, “Let’s run away from our problems”

Aziraphale doesn’t want to run away, and Crowley doesn’t want to change who he is.

They both want to be together so badly but they don’t understand why they each want it so differently. And Aziraphale can’t compromise because he’s brainwashed and LOATHES himself. And Crowley can’t compromise because he’s traumatized and LOVES Aziraphale just as he is. Crowley doesn’t want to be good on heavens terms. He can see Heaven for what it is; “toxic”. He hates heaven not only for what the Host did to him, but for HOW THEY TREATED Aziraphale.

They both don’t understand each other because for all the pleading and presenting and monologuing, they never once in that whole conversation, actually talked.

[a-b-riddle]

Part 2

Can't stop thinking about reader finally cutting them loose.

For three days there was nothing but radio silence. In those three days you had told yourself that it was a grace period. Time for Simon to cool off and realize how much of a bastard he was for saying all those things he obviously didn't mean. Johnny coming back over with a bouquet of flowers and endless apologies and cuddles.

Simon didn't apologize for his harsh words.

Johnny didn't call you later, as promised.

For three days you jumped at every single notification, silently hoping it was one of them. Any of them.

But it wasn't.

And you, unfortunately, got the answer to the question you had been asking yourself for months.

Did they still want this?

The answer was clear.

You didn't let their unofficial dismissal get to you. You still had shit to do. A life to get on to. A book signing to go to.

Jesus.

A book signing. A book you wrote. A book that was being published and released the day of the expo. You weren't expecting a huge line because this was your debut novel, but with the help of some ARC readers who had took to social media, there had been a bit of a storm brewing.

You had listened to John when he had mentioned writing under an alias. Don't know how crazy people are out there. They'd do anything to get close to you, Dove. Just better to protect yourself where you can. You almost hated yourself for listening to him now. Now you would just have to keep writing under your pen name.

You were getting ready to close up shop early when your phone finally pinged.

Kyle.

Fuck.

Of course it was Kyle. The one who hadn't treated you like you were constantly bothering him. Not the one who made you feel guilty for agreeing to your arrangement. Nor was he the one who fucked you and left you. No. He was just the one who just wasn't there.

Maybe that was just as bad.

What are you up to today?

That was it. Almost two weeks of radio silence and that's all he had to say? It just added more evidence that you were making the right call in ending this now. It had already carried on for too long.

You had two things on your to-do list and you wouldn't let Kyle's sudden reappearance deter you.

E-mail the publisher back.

Change the locks.

You didn't have the strength to face them again. If they groveled, it would be too easy to take them back. One against four wasn't much of a fair fight. And if they didn't care to fight for you... you don't know if you could survive it. Coming face-to-face with the proof that it didn't bother them to give you up even though it was killing you.

No. Cutting it off completely was the best thing to do.

So you didn't respond.

You left Kyle's text unanswered as you e-mailed the publisher back that everything was set for your flight on tomorrow morning. You would spend Thursday adjusting to the time difference and Friday you would rest up before the expo this weekend. She assured you that you would need to rest up your writing hand. Whatever that means.

You left Kyle read as you closed up shop several hours earlier than usual. You needed to drop off the bank deposit before you started on task number two.

You didn't bothering responding to Johnny when he had texted you when you were leaving the hardware store, purchase in hand. Asking if you were free Friday. Promising dinner. 'In or out. Your choice.'

It was almost second nature when you got home to pull up your phone. Ready to text one of them to see which one of them could come over and help.

Fixing a leaky sink? Nothing Johnny hasn't seen before. Need help moving furniture? John won't mind when you change your several times on what should go where. Kyle would always come in with take out the moment you mentioned you were hungry and whenever you felt like going for a walk when it was a bit too late in the evening, Simon was the first to volunteer as your personal guard dog.

But asking them to come and change the very lock you planned on using to keep them out seemed... counter productive, if not downright petty.

You were almost done with the lock when your phone sounded off. Only this time it wasn't a text. Someone was calling you.

You almost faltered when John's name came on your screen.

Fuck.

That almost got you.

You almost answered it.

Almost.

You clicked on the 'Sorry, I can't talk right now. Options, before finishing up your work.

And just like that, you were done. No help needed. You had changed the lock. Even adding on a deadbolt. Replacing the flimsy chain Simon had taunted you about. If someone wanted to get in here, that wouldn't stop them.

Well, now you didn't need to hear it anymore.

Not that you would really hear it again...

Your flight was in twelve hours. Although that seemed an ample amount of time you hadn't even begun to pack. You had luckily narrowed your outfits down, but now was the task of folding it nicely into your suitcase rather than just stuffing it in there.

On my way. We need to talk.

It was too late for talking. Three days too late. Several months too late.

The last message sent was four weeks ago. A new Thai place had opened up close to your apartment that you were wanting to try. All of them had given you excuses.

Not my taste, Dove.

Cannae do it tonight. Next weekend? Next weekend didn't happen either.

I can do tomorrow. Kyle ended up bailing. You forget the excuse he used.

Simon hadn't even bothered to reply.

The final nail in the coffin of your relationship. Almost two years wasted with nothing, but a broken heart to show for it. And the worst part is, they had all chipped away at your heart, leaving you to deal with the final blow that would shatter it.

Im sorry. I can’t do this with you anymore. wish you all the best.

Your fingers made quick work in blocking their numbers. It was best. If they wanted to reach you, they couldn't. On the other side of the coin, if they didn't care to reply, you wouldn't spend countless hours crying over the fact that none of them had been affected the same way you had.

You would deal with getting them their belongings that they had left behind another time. You had big things, great things happening for you. You were cutting your loses. You were cutting them loose.

You just hoped you didn’t regret it.

[babyleostuff]

౨ৎ voicemails choi seungcheol leaves you while he’s on tour - fluff (with a pinch of angst), established relationship, gn!reader (pet names used: baby, darling)

...one: hey darling! we just arrived at the hotel. i called right after we landed but you didn't answer and then jeonghan reminded me that we’re in completely different time zones. i feel like a total idiot for forgetting about it. good thing you didn't answer though, i hope you have the sweetest dreams. anyway, call me in the morning when you wake up. i love you

...two: the bed felt so cold last night. fuck, it’s been only a day and i miss you like crazy already

...three: i think the kids are sick of me. they say i keep talking about you but (laughs) how could i not? how was your day though? what did you do today? did eat something good for dinner?

...four: that photo of you and kkuma you sent me earlier. (pause) it made my whole day. i immediately set it as my wallpaper. (sigh)

...five: i hate cuddling these goddamn pillows, i want you back in my arms baby

...six: oh my god, yesterday was so much fun! mingyu and dino took me out to drink, and we ended up in the shittiest street ever, and like, there were so many people staring at us weirdly. i know we’re good looking, but come on. then mingyu started to get scared, which started to freak dino out too (laugs). and then i started to get scared too. but then we discovered the best bar ever. i can't wait to tell you all about it

...seven: i saw it’s raining back home. i put an umbrella in your bag before i left because you always forget to bring it with you, and make sure to dress well. go over to my place and take some of my hoodies and coats, and i don't want to hear any complaints

...eight: i miss you

...nine: i should’ve brought a bigger suitcase with me, i swear i have so many gifts for you

...ten: i wish you could be here with me. (pause) i love you

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @soul-is-a-strange-kid @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @chillseo @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee

[reiderwriter]

If your requests are open could I get a fic where Spencer lost his virginity to bau!reader the night before and when he comes into work the next day Morgan is like ‘you look different’ (you know that stereotype that people you know well can tell when you lose your virginity) and bau!reader is like yeah you do why is that Spencer🤨 lmaoo

A/N: This was a really fun request to write! Nice, short and sweet! I hope you enjoy it~♡

Warnings: implied sexual encounter, some suggestive talk, mentions of virginity.

Masterlist || Song Fic Challenge

“Wait, kid, hold up, something’s different. You get a haircut or what?” 

You tried your best not to giggle profusely as the blush crept up Spencer’s neck to sit prettily across his cheeks. It had only been an hour since you'd left him sleeping soundly in your bed after a night of well… ravaging him. 

Spencer Reid, your beautiful, awkward, nerdy, and charming coworker was no longer a virgin. Nor was he single. And surprisingly, he wasn't all that bad at sex either, a little cautious, but for all intents and purposes, quite the natural. 

He certainly hadn't turned into a sex god over night, but you did plan to accost him rather regularly from that point onwards, so you very much were enjoying the abject look of horror passing over his features at that moment. 

“I was running late this morning. My alarm didn't go off.” 

You stifled a giggle, knowing that his alarm probably had gone off. He'd just been in a completely different apartment and hadn't heard it. Maybe it was still going off now. 

When his eye caught yours, he froze still in a flush. It was impossible not to run tour gaze along the length of his body, showing him enough quiet appreciation you thought he'd drop to his knees. 

Instead, his hands that were wrestling with his tie fidgeted more, finding it impossible to tie the damn thing like he had every morning for the last five years. 

“Having some trouble, Spencer? Maybe I could help you out?” You winked at him to punctuate your question, and all he could do was stand and gulp down a breath, nodding in agreement. 

“You do look pretty tired, kid? Long night?” Derek asked, a quiet bemused look hanging on his face. He'd had this same conversation with Reid at least four times in the last year, assuming that every time he came in looking slightly dishevelled, he'd enjoyed a night of pleasure. 

It had certainly been pleasing to you, and you were absolutely going to help teasing Reid if you got the chance. You certainly enjoyed doing just that last night. 

Grabbing the two ends of his tie and pulling him a step closer to Reid - maybe a bit too close for two people in their place of work - you began righting all of his clothes. 

“You didn't wake me up,” he whispered with a pout into your ear, his pout audible even as he tried to keep his face neutral. 

“I tried,” you whispered back. “But every time I got close, you lunged for me in your sleep and started grinding your morning wood into my ass.” 

The flush that you enjoyed so much was now a fully glowing face. He was so red you expected steam to pour from his ears any minute. 

You finish knotting his tie and brush his shirt a little, just as Derek clears his throat again. 

“Kid, did you hear me? I asked if you had a long night.” 

Spencer's gaze didn't leave yours, though. Even in his embarrassment, he was so intently focused on you that it nearly set your entire body on edge. 

“Yeah, you could say that,” he replied, his gaze dropping to your lips. You wished they hadn't, because now you had to stop yourself from jumping him right there in the bull pen. 

“Oh shit,” Derek couldn't hold back the laugh that bubbled up in his chest as he stood looking from you to Spencer and then back to you. 

“Oh shit. Spencer, I didn't know you had game like that.” His words were wheezed out between fits of laughter, and you were irritated when the focus in Spencer's gaze shattered, settling into a look of discontent. 

“Derek, come on…” he groaned, and you put your hand gently on his chest to get him to look at you again. 

“Next time, I'll work my hardest to wake you up, Spencer.” 

With his jaw hanging open in shock, you pushed up onto your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaving him stood like a statue as Derek bent over in laughter, trying to catch his breath. 

You smiled in your final triumph just as Emily walked over to greet the two men and opened with a question. 

“Weren't you wearing that outfit yesterday, Reid?”  

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - implied non/con, extreme pet play, dehumanization, psychological/physical abuse, and unbalanced power dynamics.

commissioned piece. donate to palestinians in gaza here.

Sometimes, you really do think Suguru thinks of you as a pet.

It shouldn’t be as difficult to believe as it is. Of course you’d be less than human to him, less than equal to the god-like status he has among his followers. But, Suguru knows he’s not a god, and while you might not be the only person he claims to be superior to, you are the only one he keeps locked in a steel-barred dog crate padded only by thread-bare blankets and distant memories of what it felt like to sleep in a real bed. You’re special – albeit, not the kind of special you’d like to be. You can disregard most of his grandiose speeches about ‘complete non-sorcerer elimination’ and ‘killing off those worthless monkeys’ as the self-indulgent rambling of a deranged cult leader, but he doesn’t seem to be phoning it in when it comes to you.

He doesn’t talk to you. Communication occurs solely through blunt orders (come, sit, bark, etc.) or sweetened, syrupy baby-talk, cooed as his fingers card through your hair and pet down the length of your spine. You’re expected (something learned purely through trail and error, reward and punishment) to follow him around happily, to sit at his feet and clamber into his lap whenever his eyes find yours and he taps his thigh, that expectant smile already tugging at the corner of his lips. Depending on the day, you’re either coddled and adored like a beloved pet, allowed to walk on two legs rather than four and fed treats out of his open palm, or treated like a stray who’d wandered in off the street and refuses to leave. You do prefer the former to the latter, but it doesn’t really make that much of a difference, not if you’re being honest with yourself. Either way, you always seem to end up on your knees between his legs as he sits above you, a fist curled around your collar as he tells you to lick, puppy, lick.

Speaking of – you’re not allowed to wear clothes. You used to hate it, to steal his shirts and hide in closets, to do anything you could to salvage what little pride you had left, but it’s hard not to get used to something forced onto you so constantly. The only thing Suguru’s ever given you to wear is a simple, black, leather collar – studded with silver spikes and drawn tight enough to bite into your throat when he pulls on it, which he does often. You’re thankful he doesn’t make you wear those cutesy animal ear headbands or, god forbid, a tail, but not as thankful as you should be. As unbearable as it’d be, having him dress you up like a cat or a dog or some wide eyed, sexed-up rabbit would take the edge off. Like this, it’s harder to believe he thinks of you as an animal, as something cute and small and vulnerable that he can love and care for. It’s harder to deny that he knows you’re human – he just doesn’t see why that would ever mean you couldn’t also be his pet.

You think, when you’ve exhausted all other silver linings, that it’s (partially, at least) his excuse to keep you. You know what he does to people who aren’t like him, you’ve seen what he’s like at his worst, and you know that, if you weren’t his pet, you’d just be another non-sorcerer, another nuisance the world would be better off without. If you’re a pet, you can’t be a person, and if you’re not a person, it means he’s not going against his warped ideals when he pulls you close to his chest, when he ghosts his lips over the top of your head, when he fucks you so softly and so gently, you can almost believe he cares whether or not you enjoy it. Pets are supposed to be loved, and so he’s not doing anything wrong by loving you.

You know what would happen to you if you weren’t his pet, too, if he couldn’t make excuses for himself. You’ve seen how wide his smile can be when he comes home with blood on his clothes, how little effort it takes for him to hook his hands under your arms and carry you to his bed, already muttering about how perfect he’s going to make the world for his pretty, precious pet. You’re not allowed to leave his cramped apartment, but he talks about putting you on display for his acolytes as he ruts into you with an almost animalistic brutality, about showing all of those filthy, degenerative insects what a well-trained mutt looks like. You know that you should do more to fight back, that your humanity should be worth more to you than a few half-hearted escape attempts and the occasional pained whine, but you’ve seen see what he can do, heard about the dismembered bodies he leaves to rot in a ditch behind his temple, and—

And, no matter how much you hate him for it, no matter how much you hate yourself for it, it’s true.

When it comes down to it, you’d rather be his pet than be nothing at all.

[phas3d]

Celebrity Crush|| Slytherin Boys

type :: fluff

tw/cw :: suggestive jokes (all)

contains :: draco malfoy, tom riddle, mattheo riddle, theodore nott, lorenzo berkshire

summary :: you're either friends or enemies and they see you freaking out over your celebrity, making them jealous. they search them up only to find out that the celebrity looks almost exactly like them

alternative :: your celebrity crush looks nothing like them

DRACO (enemies)

Your group just watched the newest movie that came out

Ever since then, you couldn’t stop gushing about how hot the villain was

Although the villain was an awful person, you still went on rants about how fine he is

Your friends kept laughing at how out of pocket your jokes were

“I can fix him I swear, just give me a chance” you grieved as if someone died

"I'm gonna get on all fours and start hitting my chest like a gorilla if he keeps looking this fine" you said with passion, not scared of the whole school hearing you

Draco, despite not wanting to say it, was extremely jealous as he gripped his fork extra hard as he heard you

He was a dick, why didn’t you like him? Maybe he wasn’t hot enough? He’s always been slightly insecure about his appearance

The second lunch ended, he ran to the bathroom and secretly looked up the actor

But as he looked at him… he realized he wasn’t too far off from the actor

Their faces were almost completely different but, they both had short bright blonde hair, cold blue eyes, always wore green, and had similar body types

From seeing that, he smirked to himself and got an ego boost

He goes to sleep with a fat ass grin on his face

He won’t directly say the actor looks like him, but he’ll know it deep down

TOM (friends)

Although Tom could stand being around you, he wished he could mute you out

You two were studying together in his room

Or… he was studying while you kept replaying the same edit of some random celebrity

“He could take my eggs and eat it like skittles”

Tom has literally killed and tortured people but he still widened his eyes slightly at your comment

He felt a small bit of jealousy, but he wasn’t sure if it was because he was scared of losing his only friend or because he liked you

(It’s because he likes you but he’s not that emotionally aware)

Tom has always been nosy, so he tilted slightly to see your phone

That’s when he saw a man with pale skin, brown eyes, and wavy brown hair

But beside those basic attributes, he also had the same nose as him along with a resting bitch face

He doesn’t show it, but on the inside he felt much calmer

It gave him a small sense of hope that maybe one day, he could actually be seen as attractive by someone

No one has ever confessed or even liked Tom romantically throughout his whole life due to his insane hobbies

He sleeps a little bit better with the thought that maybe someone could like him

And he really hopes it’s you :)

MATTHEO (enemies) (I made this so long on accident... whoops)

You two clash constantly due to Mattheo’s class clown behavior and your goody-two-shoes attitude

He was always cracking mean jokes and bullying your friend group since you were kinda nerdy

You despised him and have beaten his ass multiple times (with magic) but he still doesn’t learn his lesson

But that's mainly because he thinks it's hot when you beat his ass and yell at him

Once again, he was walking towards your group to pick on you guys once more, especially you

But that’s when he heard you freak out over some random character

At first he thought it was just some lame anime character, that's how you usually are

But when you start showing your friends the photo-card in the back of your phone, he realizes it’s a real person

Instantly, he's pissed and jealous of a stupid piece of paper

He stalks you until you repeat the celebrities' name so he can google him and ruin his career

But once he looks up the idol, he sees that he also has dark curly hair with deep brown eyes

He actually researches and tries to learn about the idol more so he can take note on what you like

That's when he learns that the idol is known as a funny and protective person, just like him

He giggles to himself and decides to be insanely cocky

He prints out a photo of himself in the same pose as the idol, rounds the corners, and even puts his own signature on the back

The next day, he hands it to you and is smirking to himself

But... surprisingly... you didn't know it wasn't the idol????

You smiled widely and freak out, you thank him and quickly put it in the back of your phone case

From that, he smiles insanely widely. Not only at how cute you were from freaking out, but by also knowing he's on the back of your phone without you even knowing

THEODORE (friends)

He's always known you were a fangirl but it was normally for weird things

You've had a few celebrity crushes over the years, but it's never been this extreme before

"GOD I WANNA LIVE IN HIS TOILET!!!" You shouted as you stared at a photo of the celebrity

Theo never understood how people got so attached but he was curious

How hot was this guy for you to like him THIS much? and why was he so jealous?

Theo has always been confident in his looks since he pulls bitches left and right

But, for some reason, he's suddenly strongly craving your validation

He asks you to show him the celebrity, only to see an almost exact clone of himself

Light fluffy brown hair, green eyes that were the same shape as his, thick brows, and a strong jaw

Theo smiles lightly and shakes his head, you perceived it as him making fun of your crush

You hide your phone from him and proceed to watch a pile of edits of this man on loop

Although he didn't get the hype of being a fangirl, he supported this one

He researches the celebrity during his free time and tries to become more like him slightly

Of course, he doesn't change anything drastically

But he might get the same shirt or shoes as him

LORENZO (rivals?) (can you tell he's my favorite?)

You and Lorenzo were constantly at the top of your charms class within the entire school

Both of you have constantly gone head to head with each other just to compete for first place, only to tie for it together

There was no hatred or extreme feelings, just a fun rivalry that was oddly flirtatious at times

While you were in the library with a few friends studying, you suddenly start slamming your fist on the desk

Lorenzo was often in the library in order to check out new books to read in order to beat you

He looked over, worried that something bad happened

But all he saw was you on the floor, as if you melted, with your phone held high showcasing a man

He was curious as to how you got to the floor so fast despite banging on the table only 2 seconds ago, but he didn't care

Many people in the school shipped you and Lorenzo, but you both always denied it in order to not make it awkward

But, Lorenzo has liked you for ages. Despite that fact that he's a fuckboy, he would give up everything just to kiss you

"I would save his nail clippings and make a necklace out of it" You said in a harsh whisper that made all your friends hold back a laugh

Lorenzo was shocked, he's never seen you be so vulgar

He felt slightly hurt, not only by the fact that you were freaking out over some celebrity but also because he's never seen you act like this with him

"The things I would do for this man is un-ex-plain-a-ble" You aggressively whispered as you slammed your fist on the desk again

The librarian came around and told your whole group to shut up, which made Lorenzo happy

He decided to do his usual routine, he walked up to you and flicked you on the head as a joking gesture

You wince and hold your forehead, that's when he looks at your phone and sees the name of the celebrity

He repeats the name over and over and over and OVER in his head until he gets to his dorm and instantly searches him up on his phone

That's when he sees how similar he is to the celebrity

At first, he was doubting it since he didn't want to be cocky

But he told Theo and Theo instantly agreed, saying the celebrity looks just like him

Sharp jawline and cheekbones, fair skin, soft light brown hair, brown eyes, and even the same body build

He smiled to himself, feeling a bit of self love for himself from seeing how similar he is to your favorite celebrity

He's always been slightly insecure of his body build due to most of the guys in Hogwarts being buff as shit while Lorenzo was slightly more lean

But seeing the celebrity be called the heart-throb of the year made him really happy

After he knows all of this, he's much more confident around you and even finds subtle ways to bring up how he knows your type

Uses this as evidence against you to make you blush during petty arguments