#this is just what I've really enjoyed so far I've never really listened to much Hip Hop or Rap

[reidmoony-toast]

Strawberry Wine. ౨ৎ

"If I was empty space, and you were a formless shape we'd fit"

Spencer x fem singer!reader

The three times they miss each other, and the one time they don't

content: no use of y/n, fluff, pining galore

cw: lil suggestive? (She sings Chappell Roan)

wc: 2.4k

an: I've been cooking this up for a while, but life has been super busy, so I haven't yet finished the other parts. I'm very sorry if they take a few weeks to finish :[ Anyways, hope you enjoy! <3

| pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3 | series masterlist ౨ৎ

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He really wished he wasn’t here. He never should have begrudgingly agreed to Penelope’s crazy plans, no matter how much she bugged him about it. This was about as far opposite to his kind of thing that you could get.

The lights were bright–unbearably so; flashing so much he feared he would have an epileptic episode (if it weren’t for the small fact that he didn’t actually have epilepsy, but he digressed).

The large room was also deafening, filled with fans, all of them buzzing in anticipation. Penelope was not an exception–she bounced up and down like a rogue ball, shrieking in excitement close to every thirty seconds. He would know. He had been counting.

Although he would rather be at the very back (if he had to choose anywhere in this wretched place), Penny had physically forced him into the very front row, only a barrier separating them from the stage.

He didn’t know and definitely didn’t want to know how Penelope had acquired such tickets and at such short notice before the show. He had found that he was better living in ignorance of the borderline illegal habits of his best friend.

He had just endured half an hour of what Penny had called the ‘openers’. He was dismayed to hear that the performance was not the actual concert; he learnt that the hard way when he had asked Penelope if they could leave, which she replied to with a cackle, stating that the band that had just exited the stage was, in fact, not the main event of the evening.

He had buried his face in his hands and let out a loud groan. He only had himself to blame for being caught up in the ‘Garcia puppy eyes’ trap, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t whinge at least a little bit–or a lot bit.

He didn’t know much about this singer girl, only that Penelope was obsessed with her, bringing her up in conversation many a time. He admitted that he often didn’t fully (if at all) listen when Garcia gushed over her–he seemed to always zone out.

He had never properly heard her songs, only in passing when Penelope would blast music in her cave, and he didn’t even have a clue what she looked like.

He was mentally preparing himself for the next few gruelling hours, with Penny jumping up and down beside him, when the lights dimmed, sending the whole room into a frenzy.

He winced at the screaming and whooping coming from all around him. Smoke machines started emitting mist, covering the stage and fogging up the colourful lights. The crowd continued to roar, Penelope squealing next to him and gripping the railing of the barrier.

A figure emerged through the haze, the silhouette showing locks of hair cascading over their shoulders, clad in a silk slip dress that ended at the mid thigh, hugging their curves.

They started singing–a smooth, silky voice wrapped around him, making the room suddenly feel more bearable. He swallowed hard. The singing was beautiful. Sweet and rich, wrapping around him like a cosy blanket.

He raised his eyebrows with pleasant surprise. It was, admittedly, not bad in the slightest. He hated to say it, but he was enjoying it, a lot. More than he should, given that it was new-age pop, not the refined tones of classical music–his favourite genre by far.

All thoughts of music flew out of his head as the owner of the angelic voice stepped into the stage lights, allowing him to properly see her for the first time. His breath left his body as he took her in.

She was gorgeous, stunning–almost ethereal, as her other-worldy voice filled his cochlea, transmitting electrical signals through his nerve pathways to his primary auditory cortex.

Her hair shone in the light, giving her a halo of the highest grade, her bright lips curled into a perfect smile around her words, and her eyes shone with a million glinting stars.

He was utterly enamoured by her–every facial expression, every movement she made, every note she sang was all absorbed thoroughly by his wide eyes.

In no time at all, the first song was over, finishing with loud cheering and clapping from the audience. The angel grinned out at the sea of fans, soaking up the feeling.

Unlike Spencer, she was well and truly in her element, looking as though there was not where else in the world she would rather be.

He gazed in open-mouthed awe at the way she floated effortlessly about the stage–and, of course, that breathtaking smile that scrunched her nose and revealed the prettiest dimples he had ever seen.

He was snapped back to reality with a sharp poke in the side from Penelope, centering his gravity away from the girl on stage and back to where he stood.

“What?” He said loudly, an exasperated look adorning his face as he tore his eyes back to his best friend. She was smirking at him, arms crossed in front of herself.

“You have such a thing for her, I’m surprised you're not drooling right now,” she answered mockingly. He scoffed, dismissing her words with a wave of his hands as he faced the stage again, not wanting to miss a moment of the show. He heard Garcia laugh deeply at his half-hearted denial.

All thoughts of Penelope soon left his mind as the heaven-sent saint started to sing again, striking chords in his heart at every note.

The song came and went again, and Spencer wished they would not go by so fast, so he could see her for as long as possible.

The next song started with a more upbeat track, and the angel laughed, running back down stage, scarily close to where Spencer stood. “She was a, Playboy, Brigitte Bardot,” she started to sing, “She showed me things, I didn't know.”

She stuck out her tongue playfully, shaking her hips, making the satin fabric hugging her curves sway.

“She did it right there, out on the deck,” she bit down on her bottom lip as Spencer’s face heated, realising what the song was about. “Put her canine teeth in the side of my neck.”

She gestured with her fingers to a spot on her neck, pretending as if her fingers were the teeth, tipping her head back with imaginary ecstasy. He swallowed heavily, face hot.

“I'm in the hallway waitin' for ya,” she sang, “Mini skirt and my go-go boots,” on those lyrics, she bent over, running her free hand from her heeled boots and up her legs, jutting her ass out.

Spencer’s mouth fell open in shock. He had never felt like this from only a few minutes of meeting someone, let alone just laying his eyes on them. This was completely out of the ordinary for him, and it left him reeling.

~☆~

Songs flitted by like the butterflies in his stomach, and his gaze was permanently fixated on the captivating women centre-stage. He couldn't tear his eyes away even if he tried–and he most definitely didn't.

A new song started, fading in with a catchy guitar riff, and the crowd went wild, sparking a wide smile on the angel’s face.

The drum beat started, and she strutted down the stage, tipping her head back and shaking her smooth curls out in the dim lights before she began to sing. “Midnight,” she dragged out the end of the word.

“Come and pick me up, no headlights,” she blew a kiss to the fans in front of her, winking as she made her way down the stage towards where Spencer was situated.

Penelope grasped his arm tighter and tighter as she neared, buttery voice washing over him.

“Watch us go ‘round and ‘round each time,” she stretched out the note, rolling her head to the side, eyes landing exactly where Spencer was standing. He froze, dumbstruck, as he locked eyes with her.

He gulped heavily as a cheeky grin adorned her face, soft lips framing perfectly white teeth. She straightened up, continuing the lyrics as she floated even closer to him, never breaking eye contact.

“You got that James Dean daydream look in your eye,” She knelt down on the stage in front of Spencer. His breathing stuttered as his gaze remained on her, utterly entranced.

“And I got that red lip classic thing that you like,” she dragged her thumb across her lip, singing to him through a happy, if not slightly teasing, smile.

“‘Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style,” He could see her mouth curving around each syllable as she sang into the microphone, eyes still, somehow, on him.

He most definitely looked like an idiot in that moment, with his flushed cheeks and slack-jawed awe of the ethereal woman only a few feet away, but he didn't have it in himself to care.

She had seen him, and not only that, she had actually come over and sat, right there on the stage in front of him. No matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, she was–without question–looking, and singing, straight at him.

She leaned impossibly closer, leaving only a few inches between their two faces as she crooned the words into the microphone. His eyes flicked across the features of her face before they settled on her own.

Up close, they were mesmerising– long, thick lashes framed bright irises, sparkling with the light of the night sky– he could almost map out the constellations he knew off by heart from the incandescent twinkles in her eyes.

“You got that long hair, slicked back-” She moved her free hand to hover over the collar of Spencer's shirt, seemingly asking silent consent to touch him.

He shook out of his trance long enough to nod vigorously. She let out a short chuckle, grabbing his collar and carefully but firmly pulling him closer by his shirt. “-white T-shirt.”

His breath hitched as hers ghosted his lips with every exhale, noses almost touching, with hardly any room for the microphone as his heart raced impossibly faster.

“And I got that good girl faith and a tight little skirt.” At that, she pulled away, letting go of his collar as she leaned back to run her free hand over her skirt, smirking at Spencer and his flaming-red face.

“And when we go crashing down, we come back every time,” she repeats, still serenading him. “'Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style!” She finally stood, winking and blowing a kiss at a thoroughly flustered Spencer as she strutted to another part of the stage.

Spencer stood there, dumbfounded. He couldn't believe she had not only noticed him, but also sang right to him. His shirt was crumpled from where she had gripped it, but he didn't dare fix it. If possible, he would never smooth the rumpled fabric if it meant he could have a reminder of her always.

A rough shake of his shoulder brought him back to the present, Penelope standing astonished next to him, incredulous smile playing on her lips and she all but shrieked in his ear–something along the lines of, ‘You're so lucky!’ and ‘You're so down bad!’.

He didn't pay her any mind, instead keeping his still-red face on her, and her only.

She wandered to different parts of the stage during the remainder of the song, but Spencer didn't miss the more-than-occasional glances she sent his way throughout the next few songs, smile growing each time they locked eyes.

When they did, he matched her smile with his own goofy grin, his heart feeling as if it was beating out of his chest, breathing becoming erratic as he clutched the railing with white knuckles.

~☆~

All too soon, the concert came to an end, accompanied by raucous applause from the crowd. He clapped like a mad thing too, finally understanding why her fans acted the way they did.

The version of him from two hours ago would have teased him relentlessly for this, but he didn't care. It was another completely different version of him, a version that had not yet laid his eyes on her.

It certainly felt like a life-altering moment in his existence. His being was now split into ‘before’ and ‘after’. Before and after her.

She waved and blew kisses enthusiastically as she made her way off stage. He deduced that she would have to walk right past Spencer to get there. He pathetically hoped she would look at him one last time–prayed she cared enough to seek him out once again.

Electricity jolted through his entire body, head to toe, as she locked eyes with Spencer when he was in her direct line of sight.

She gave him a wink and a little wave, biting her lip through a larger-than-life grin; he felt giddy, hand coming up in an awkward half-wave. He silently cursed himself for the stiltedness of his actions.

She, however, didn't have such qualms as she blew him an air kiss, giggling as she turned away, skipping the rest of the way off stage. The screaming continued as the heel of her shoe disappeared behind the side-stage curtain.

He felt oddly hollow as the venue lights came back on, signalling the end of the show. He kept staring at the spot where she had last been, silently hoping she would come back out and sing again. Look at him again.

He blinked hard, finally re-orienting himself, glancing around to see a few people staring at him, whispering to themselves.

They were talking about him–about his encounter. He turned away again, ducking his head as his cheeks burned again.

As quickly as they came, the stares went again, and his eyes flicked back to the stage again. He so badly wanted to meet her, talk to her, even just lay his eyes on her again. That would be enough.

Penelope cleared her throat next to him, and he hummed in response, still not looking away. She snorted. “Come on lover boy, time to leave.”

He turned his attention to see her nod in the direction of the exit.

He gazed back at that spot once more, heaving out a melancholy sigh, before turning away, heading towards the door.

“Yeah, let's go.”

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Thank you for reading, feedback is appreciated x

Tags: @reidology13 - Comment to be added!

Masterlist ౨ৎ

[babisawyer]

paramount+ has given up on me suddenly so I've only been able to watch a tiny bit of scream 6 so far.

[silasbug]

fondly thinking about my best friend.

no idea how she's managed to stick it out with me this far but i'm amazed that after over 6 years she still has enough patience to tolerate me.

when i don't feel like i'm good enough, she reminds me of who i am. when i make mistakes, she doesn't treat me any different. when i'm highly dysphoric, she just /gets/ it and shows me unrelenting support and encouragement. she's my #1 hypeman, and i am hers.

there isn't another person in the world that's been able to make me feel even.. remotely okay in my own skin, about how i look and how a body feels (i would also say about who i am, but i'd be lying).

i realize that i've always had a bit of body dysmorphia and generally don't enjoy looking at my own face because it's.. very uncanny to me. i don't have a proper sense of style. but she always just?? has something nice to say and she does it so genuinely that you can actually believe that she means what she says. because she's the same.

i'll go out looking like a 12 year old boy and she's just. fucking. there for it. she'll cheer for it. do it with me. and then we'll walk around the block looking like two lil' dudebros together because we own the same clothes. and fucking hell.

this girl is too good to me. i absolutely don't deserve her.

sometimes it's hard to believe that someone like her exists.

and that i get to be witness to it.

there's caveats, of course. we talk so rarely (we go weeks without), the interests we share are few and far between and there's.. so many things i could never tell her because i will never get over that fear of losing her.

there is no right moment and there isn't a time and those are things i neither need nor want her to know, because it would change the way she sees me.

and i guess that seems callous and detached and dishonest.

but we are there when it matters. i am there when she needs me and i will always pick up her pieces.

i want her to have a good thing. she sees me as a good thing.

so i'll let her have me this way.

[fireinmoonshot]

death wish love | tyler owens x fem!reader

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader Summary: As members of rival storm chasing groups, you and Tyler Owens have hated each other since the start – well, you were supposed to. Little do you know, Tyler has been head over heels for you for months, and it's only when he nearly loses you that he realises he's done with pretending to hate you. Warnings: Descriptions of injuries, mentions of blood, tornadoes (of course), Tyler is actually painfully obvious with his crush but thinks he's not at all. Word Count: 6.7k (I don't know how that happened) A/N: I had this idea for a fic a few days ago and when I was listening to the Twisters soundtrack as I wrote, I realised that the song Death Wish Love fits it perfectly. I did not intend for this to be so long, but it somehow just happened. It's probably one of the longest things I've written on this blog, so I hope anyone that reads it really enjoys it. I had so much fun writing it and playing around in the Twisters universe! I will definitely be writing more for Tyler.

One of these days, Tyler Owens was going to get his shit together and ask you out. There were, however, several things in the way. The most pressing being the fact that your storm chasing groups were rivals and had been for years.

The fact that you hated his guts would be the second. 

He was unaware that you didn’t hate him quite as much as you made out to, though. It was just that you had a reputation to uphold. Being the unofficial leader of The Thunder Team, your friends and fellow storm chasers all expected you to dislike the Tornado Wranglers just as much as they did.

And you had – in the start. 

You were just beginning your PhD, fairly fresh in the world of storm chasing and the rivalry between your teams had been there from the very beginning. To your team, the Tornado Wranglers were nothing more than a bunch of stupid kids who didn’t even have the correct knowledge to be chasing these tornadoes.

To you, they had slowly become something of a wonder. You didn’t think it was necessary to have a PhD or education under your belt in order to storm chase. As long as you loved it, that was enough. And you never doubted the love that the Tornado Wranglers had for it. 

But still, the rivalry continued. It was always a competition. Who could get to the tornado first? Who could get closer? Who had better instincts when it came to choosing which one to chase? Who could get more attention on social media with their photos and videos?

The Tornado Wranglers had an advantage on that one.

That never stopped your team trying, though. Which is exactly what they’re doing as you walk towards them from where you’ve just parked your car. They’re all crowded around the van in the motel parking lot. Robbie, one of your closest friends, is filming Ally talking about something, probably regarding the EF1 tornado you’d chased today. 

You stop far enough away that you aren’t going to end up in the background of the video, and that’s when Tyler Owens sidles up beside you, arms crossed over his chest.

“Not interested in going viral?”

You glance up at him and notice he’s already looking at you with a cocky grin on his irritatingly handsome face. “No, figured I’d leave that to you and your team. Shoot any fireworks up a tornado today? I didn’t see you out there.”

“I didn’t realise you were looking.” 

There’s something strange in his tone of voice, but when you look at him again, there’s nothing in his face to give away the reason. 

“I wasn’t,” you huff. “It’s just that I see your giant red truck everywhere when I’m trying to get good photos of the tornadoes and it’s quite obvious when you’re not there.” 

Tyler smiles to himself. “Why don’t you come chasing with us one day, then? My truck won’t end up in your photos if you’re taking photos from inside it.”

You laugh. “That is the last thing I would want to do.” A lie. You’ve thought about it several times in the past.

“Sure, sure. You keep telling yourself that and one day you might actually believe it.”

You narrow your eyes at him but make no move to walk away from him. Your team are still filming and you’d rather stay away until they’re finished, even if it means standing with Tyler Owens until they are. 

“You guys gonna stop by the rodeo tomorrow night?” Tyler breaks the silence. 

You shrug your shoulders. “Depends on how tomorrow goes. You?”

He nods. “Yeah, we probably will, even if tomorrow doesn’t go to plan. You know my team. We love a night out.”

The weather tomorrow was predicted to be a good one for storm chasers – thunderstorms with heavy rain and likely a tornado as well, if the conditions were good enough. You were all hoping that they were. 

“My guys are less likely to go if they know your team is going, you know?” You look at Tyler, noticing the way that he’s watching your team, who are now laughing at something that Ally had said for the video. “We are still rivals.” 

“Did you think I needed a reminder?” He chuckles.

“Why? Am I being too nice to you?”

Tyler grins, one of those ones that makes you feel a little funny in your stomach. Like butterflies – but you don’t get butterflies from people you dislike. 

“Oh, darlin', you’re always a delight.”

You roll your eyes. “Want me to get you a shovel so you can start digging yourself a hole?” 

He holds up his hands in mock surrender and laughs. “Sorry, sorry,” he grins. “You wanna grab one for yourself so you can help me? I’d love the company.”

You open your mouth to reply about how much you’d love to help just as you catch Robbie’s eye. He’s quick to call out your name, beckoning you over, and you have no choice but to listen to him and leave Tyler. You’ve already stood here talking to him long enough and the last thing you want is your team thinking that you’re colluding with the Tornado Wranglers. 

“Gotta go,” you nod your head towards your group. “Good luck tomorrow.”

Tyler bids you good luck as well and watches as you head over towards your group, all of them eyeing him as you reach them. He tips his hat at Robbie, who is watching him with judging eyes, and turns on his heel, heading back to his own team to get a well needed beer.

—

When Tyler gets back to his team, he realises that they were all watching him. They all give him questioning looks as he grabs a beer out of the cooler. 

“What? I got something on my face?”

“Yeah, it sure is written all over your face,” Boone says.

Tyler frowns. “What is?”

“Oh, don’t try and lie to us, Ty,” Dani adds.

He shakes his head and takes a seat on one of the fold up chairs beside his truck. He’s smart enough to see what they’re getting at – the way he’d been there talking with you for so long. His friends are smart too. But hopefully not smart enough to see through the facade Tyler puts up to try and convince them that he still dislikes you. 

“Her, Ty? Really? She’s from the Thunder Team.” Boone stares Tyler down.

Tyler has no choice. “Okay, no,” he sighs and takes a long swig of his beer. “We were just talking, and I was just messing around with her.” He was also trying to get the courage to ask you to the rodeo, just the two of you, but he’d chickened out at the last second. “She definitely still hates us, judging by her reaction.”

Truth is, Tyler Owens has been harbouring a secret crush on you for the better part of a year now. It had snuck up on him. He’d hated you at first, thought you were just another stuck up storm chasing student, especially when he found out you were studying for your PhD. But after spending so much time around you, something had changed and all of a sudden, you had a hold over him that you didn’t even realise you had. 

It drives Tyler insane. 

The way he feels when he looks at you is definitely not the way he should be feeling about anyone, letalone the leader of a rival storm chasing team. But here he is. 

The passion he’d seen in your eyes when you’d been chasing storms. The way you talked about them in your captions on social media when you posted photos you’d taken. Even the way you made time to learn more about them through school while being on the road so often.

He was well aware that he was supposed to hate you. And yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to do it anymore.

“You sure that’s all it was?” 

“A hundred percent, Boone.”

He’s thankful when the conversation moves away from you and the Thunder Team. It lets him sit in his own thoughts for a few minutes until he’ll undoubtedly be brought back into the conversation for one reason or another. 

He’s unable to stop his eyes from drifting over to you and your team. You’ve taken a seat on the back of a truck, watching safely from behind the camera as Robbie films Ally again. He tries hard not to smile at the look on your face as you watch your friends, laughing along with the others. The last thing he needs right now is for one of his team to catch him grinning at you like an idiot, especially after convincing them that there’s nothing going on.  

He realises, then, that he’s already in way too deep.

—

The last thing you expect when you wake up the next morning is to find out that your team made a bet with the Tornado Wranglers when you had gone to bed. 

It’d been raining for most of the night, the ground covered in mud and puddles. The sky was dark and you could just feel that the conditions were perfect for a tornado. You had a good feeling that today would be the day.

Until you learnt about the bet.

“I knew I shouldn’t have left you guys alone.”

Robbie laughs, nearly choking on the piece of bacon he’d been eating. You’ve all come to a nearby diner to fuel up on both food and gas for your cars before what was supposed to be a long day of storm chasing. You have a feeling that it won’t be now that the bet exists.

“Okay, technically it was their fault,” Ally offers.

“Explain.”

“So, we’d had a few drinks, and they had clearly also been drinking, and Harry and I were heading over to the bathrooms to clean up before going to bed – because dental hygiene is important!” Ally begins, forgetting all about her half eaten plate of food. “We were almost there when they called out to us – I forget their names. The blond guy and the one with the mustache, the cute one. Anyway, they suggested a bet. Whoever could hold their liquor the best gets to choose which direction the other team chases in today.”

You stare at Ally. “And you said yes.”

She winces, and then shovels a fork full of eggs into her mouth, nodding so she doesn’t have to give you a proper answer. 

Your team is usually quite well behaved. But even the best of people could get taken advantage of, and you’ve seen it many times first hand with the Tornado Wranglers.  They can hold their liquor very well and wake up the next day with very little consequences from doing so. You’re honestly surprised Ally is even functioning. Harry, on the other hand, you haven’t seen all morning. Unsurprisingly, your team had obviously lost.

“Which direction are we going, then?”

“That’s the catch,” Robbie interjects. “They choose for us before we go. They get to look at the radar first and decide which way is going to be best. And naturally, they’re going to send us in the direction far away from the best chance.” 

You groan and let your head fall into your hands, beginning to ponder your options. You can either deal with the bet and get sent in the entirely wrong direction, or…

Without a second thought, you’re pushing yourself up from the table and heading towards the door of the diner.

“Where are you going!?” Robbie calls after you.

“I’m going to fix this mess!” 

—

Tyler greets you with a smile that is way too cheerful for both the time of the morning that it is and the situation.

“To what do I owe the pleasure on this fine morning, darlin'?” He asks, leaning up against his truck. He’s holding a coffee in one hand. Good to know he’s human. You’re not surprised that he doesn’t look hungover at all. The man practically resembles a God. 

“Wouldn’t call it a pleasure, honey,” you sigh, deciding to use a nickname just like he always uses for you. You cross your arms over your chest as you stop in front of him. “This bet you made with my team last night. I want it called off.”

Tyler’s breath catches in his throat at the sound of the word honey coming out of your mouth, directed at him. He clears his throat, trying to ignore the way it feels to hear you calling him that. “No can do, I’m afraid. We Tornado Wranglers don’t back down on bets.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. “I’m asking nicely.”

“I think you can ask a little nicer. Maybe throw a please in there,” he says. “You know it wouldn’t look good for your team, though, right? Half the other teams know about the bet.”

For a few moments, you simply just stare at him, hoping he’ll budge. He doesn’t. He stands there staring at you, too, leaning against his truck in an effortlessly attractive way, smiling at you in that same way he always does. It’s like he reserves this specific smile just for you. 

You take a step towards him, testing the waters, and notice the way his breath hitches this time at your close proximity. Did he dislike you that much that you getting this close to him set him on edge? Or was it something else?

“Nothing can change your mind?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I already told you. We don’t back down on our bets.”

“Tyler.” It’s a rare occasion where you call him by his first name, but you figure it can’t hurt to try it. You can see his eyes soften a little at the sound of it. “If you do this, you’re going to send us right off the trail and ruin our chase.”

“Who said I’d send you in the wrong direction?” 

“I’m smarter than you give me credit for.”

“I don’t know, darlin'. I give you a fair bit of credit for being a genius,” he took a sip of his coffee. “You’re the one with the PhD. I didn’t study that much.”

Something about hearing those words sets off that feeling inside your stomach again. You push it down. “I don’t have my PhD yet.”

“No,” Tyler shakes his head. “But you’re close, aren’t you? That’s more than most people around here can say regarding their education on these things.” He points a finger towards the sky, which is rapidly darkening. 

You sigh. He’s right about that. You are close to finishing your PhD, and not many of the other storm chasers around you could say the same. 

“Just tell me which direction we’re going in, Owens.”

He looks at you for a moment. “I’ll give you a choice,” he says, and for a moment hope sparks in your chest that you’ll get to choose your direction – until he continues speaking. “I’ll let this bet go if you make another one with me.”

“What sort of bet?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“Not regarding our teams. Just you and me.”

You’re about to respond when you hear the sound of the van, playing music rather loudly – Harry’s choice – pulling into the motel parking lot behind you. You sigh and turn around to look at them, irritated that this is the second time in less than 24 hours that they’ve interrupted you and Tyler. 

“No luck?” Ally calls out from the passenger seat. 

Behind them, Robbie pulls up in his truck. 

You shake your head and turn back around to face Tyler. There’s no time to make another bet with him now that your team is here and they’re all ready to go. 

“East or west, Owens?”

Tyler turns around and looks at the sky around you. You figure he’s already done his research on the conditions in every direction and that he’s just messing with you, pretending to decide on the spot. Any good storm chaser would have been watching the radars all morning – which you had been, before you found out about the bet. 

“East.” He says, turning back around to face you. “There are two possible formations, so let’s see which one develops. Or, you can ditch your team and come join us for the day. My passenger seat practically has your name on it, darlin’.” 

A small part of you finds yourself wanting to say yes to him. To tell him that you’d love nothing more than to get in his truck and see what a day with the Tornado Wranglers is like. But the reasonable part of you wins out. 

“You’re going to regret making this bet with my team, Owens,” you take a step back from him, giving him his space again. 

“I gave you the choice of another option, but you didn’t take it.”

You ignore him and turn around, heading towards the passenger side of Robbie’s truck – your usual spot when storm chasing. Tyler laughs at your reaction and then gets into his own truck before pressing his hand to the horn, making you jump at the sound, obviously using it to call his team from inside. You shoot him a look over your shoulder and in return, he sends a wink your way.

“May the best team win,” Tyler flashes a grin.

“Oh, we will!”

—

As much as Tyler hates to admit it, he had sent you in the wrong direction. There were two possible formations, that was true. But it looked very clear that the one to the east wasn’t actually going to develop into anything, and he was sure you would’ve figured that out once you got on the road and actually checked the conditions yourself.

He hates disappointing you. He saw the look on your face as you tried to convince him to call off the bet, the way you wanted to make sure today was a good one for your team. But it isn’t entirely out of competition that he sent you in the wrong direction.

Subconsciously, he did it to try and keep you safe.

If you’re out of the way of the tornado, then it’s a weight off of Tyler’s chest. He wouldn’t admit that to his team, but it felt good to think about himself. That you’d be safe. Besides, he had tried to get you out of it by making another bet with you, but he knew that you wouldn’t humour him the second he saw your team arrive. 

He presses his foot down on the accelerator, watching the clouds ahead of them. Something is going to form. He knows it. He just hopes it’s a good one, something worth chasing. 

In the passenger seat, Boone is keeping a good eye on the clouds to the east. He’s filming as well, live streaming as usual. 

“You were right, Ty,” Boone says, pointing the camera out the window towards the east. “That one’s gonna give us nothing. It’s already disappearing.”

Tyler lets out a breath of relief. You’re out of harms way and even though he knows you’d be annoyed at him if you ever found out, he can’t seem to find it in himself to feel bad about the fact. He had felt bad about the bet when you’d been talking to him, but now he realises that keeping the bet was a good idea.

“This one’s gonna be a good one, I can feel it,” he says, eyeing the clouds above them. 

Then, it happens – the tornado forms right in front of them. It’s already huge, bigger than any tornado Tyler has seen in the past few months.

Boone whoops in the seat beside him, moving the camera to film the tornado through the windshield. 

“Just look at that beauty!” He exclaims. 

Tyler can’t keep the smile off of his face as they drive closer to it. He stops the car once they get close enough, anchoring it to the ground as usual, watching as it gets closer and closer to the truck. 

“Oh, this is gonna be fun,” Tyler yells, straight to the camera that Boone is holding in his face. “Let’s do this!”

It’s only a split second later that his heart drops to his stomach. He watches as the tornado, once coming right towards them, veers off course. It’s heading east. And it’s growing in size. 

He looks out of the passenger window and in the distance, he can see your truck. It’s white, so bright under the dark sky. You’re going to be right in its path.

He sent you in the wrong direction to try and get you out of harms way, and instead he’s sent you in the exact direction the tornado is heading. There’s no way you can get out of its path in time. 

Tyler suddenly feels like he can barely breathe.

“Turn the camera off, Boone,” he commands, and then he’s removing the anchors from the ground and pressing his foot down onto the accelerator before he can even really think about it, even though there’s no way he can reach you in time with how quickly the tornado is moving towards you.

Boone, thankfully, listens, ending the stream, putting the camera down and picking up the radio to try and reach you. He’s realised what’s happening. Tyler tries to ignore the panic he feels when there’s no answer.

He can’t lose you like this. Not now. Not when he never really even had you. Not when you didn’t even know the way he felt about you. He’d been an asshole, a fool, making that bet. If he hadn’t, none of this would have happened.

“Please be okay, please be okay.” He mutters it under his breath like it’s a mantra. He doesn’t care what Boone thinks. If he says it enough, maybe he can make it come true.

—

You’ve seen tornadoes before. You’ve been close to them before. But you’ve never had one quite this size coming straight at you. You hadn’t expected this. 

When Tyler sent you east, Robbie had checked the radar and noticed that the cells out here were much less likely to form a tornado compared to the ones west. You’d gone anyway, figuring you’d try your chances, leaving Ally, Harry and the rest of your team a little further back, trying to get as close as you could before you realised your tornado was going to amount to nothing at all.

You and Robbie had been watching the tornado forming west of you, wishing you had been able to chase that one rather than do what the Tornado Wranglers told you. 

And then, it changed course.

“Get out of the car! We need to run!” Robbie undoes his seatbelt as he speaks and it doesn’t take you long to follow suit, undoing your own and jumping out of the truck.

He takes off at a run ahead of you just as the rain begins.

Your heart is beating faster in your chest than you think it ever has before. Your legs burn at the pace you’re running, your feet sinking into and skidding through the muddy paddock thanks to the heavy rain last night and the rain growing even heavier now. It slows you down, but your adrenaline pushes you faster. You can’t stop, not now. Not when there’s a possible EF4 on your tail, getting closer to you with every breath you take.

You make a mistake, then, deciding to look back at it. 

The sight of it only makes you run faster, but when you turn back, fear strikes through your system as you realise you can’t see Robbie anymore. 

The wind isn’t strong enough to have pulled him back into it, not when he was running ahead of you, but you can’t help but think of the worst possible scenario as your gaze narrows in on a gully just ahead of you. Maybe he made it there before you and now he’s just waiting.

The wind from the tornado picks up trees and branches and other debris, sending things spinning through the air. You feel something slice across your leg and cry out at the sudden pain, but there’s no time to inspect the damage as you slide down the small hill into the gully, the mud going everywhere as you hit the bottom. 

You don’t even have time to scan for Robbie as you press yourself down onto the ground of the gully, covering your head with your hands and pressing your face into the ground. You try to ignore the feeling of the mud and dirt on your skin, the throbbing pain in your leg, the rain pelting down on your back, soaking you to the bone, and try to keep breathing steadily despite being out of breath from the run and the adrenaline. 

You can’t panic now. If you panic now, you’re dead. 

The tornado gets closer and you can hear it. Hear the wind rushing through the air, hear the sound of trees being ripped out of the ground. Hear the crashing sound of the truck being picked up and thrown by it. 

Everything is okay,  you tell yourself, like a mantra. Everything is going to be okay. Because if you tell yourself enough, maybe it will come true.

—

By the time Tyler gets to the place where your truck had been, the tornado is gone and so is your truck. He barely even has time to put his own truck into park before he’s jumping out of it and calling your name. 

Boone is quick to follow him.

Tyler’s eyes narrow in on something in the distance – the remnants of your truck. It’s sitting upside down, the cab crushed in and all the glass broken. Even some of the wheels are missing. His heart almost stops.

No, you would have been smart enough to get out. You wouldn’t have stayed in the truck. He knows that. He believes that. It was one of the first things any storm chaser learnt – never stay in your car, it’s better to take your chances outside of it.

He stops in the middle of the field and takes a long, deep breath to try and calm himself down when he hears the sound of someone yelling out.

“Hey, I need some help over here!”

It’s a male voice, not belonging to you, which is the first sign that makes Tyler realise something is wrong. He recognises Robbie immediately, even though he’s drenched in rain and covered in mud and blood.

Boone runs off towards him and Tyler follows.

“Where is she?” He cuts in as Boone begins asking Robbie where he’s been hurt. “Were you with her? Where is she?” 

He knows he’s being a little irrational. He should be kinder, especially when he’s the reason Robbie was even in this tornado in the first place, but his mind is narrowed in on you, on making sure you’re okay. He’s never been more terrified that he’s lost you in his life.

“I don’t know,” Robbie shakes his head. “She was behind me, and then I jumped down into this little dam and she never came in after me.” 

Tyler doesn’t let him say anything else before he takes off running. He knows Boone can handle Robbie. His only concern is finding you. He calls out your name again and again and again, willing you to respond to just one of them.

He only hears silence.

—

The second you wake up, you push yourself up, getting your face out of the mud and opening your eyes, trying to adjust them to the sudden brightness now that the tornado has disappeared. 

You’re vaguely aware of the sound of someone calling out your name, but it sounds fuzzy, far away. Your head is spinning and you’re pretty sure you could be imagining it.

You put a hand up to the side of your face, feeling the sticky sensation of blood on your hands. Something must have hit your head and knocked you out during the tornado. You can only remember something hitting your leg as you’d slid down into the gully. How long have you been lying here? Minutes? Hours? Days, even?

Looking around, you can see the devastation caused by the tornado. There are trees and branches everywhere, and with the rain, it’s made it even muddier – and probably impossible to climb out of, especially with your injuries. You finally allow yourself to inspect your leg, noticing a deep cut across your shin, ripping your jeans. Your leg starts to throb as you finally allow yourself to recognise the pain. 

With a deep breath, you try and push yourself to your feet. It’s slippery down here thanks to all the mud and rain, and you manage to stand for just a second before your leg buckles and sends you crashing back down. At least it’s a fairly soft landing.

You curse under your breath just as you hear movement above you. Your eyes flicker towards the direction of the sound, and when you see Tyler Owens appear at the edge of the gully just to the right of you, you nearly feel like you could cry.

“Tyler!” You manage to call out to him, though your voice is weak.

His head spins towards your voice, eyes widening as he sees you. You must look like a mess, covered in all the blood and dirt, but you knows he doesn’t care. Especially with the way he slides down into the gully and stumbles towards you, getting covered in mud himself in the process.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He falls to his knees in front of you, his hands moving to cup your cheeks and move your head from side to side. He’s quick to check the wound on your head where the blood is coming from. “You’re okay, darlin’, it doesn’t look too deep.”

You can see the panic in his eyes as he scans you, scans your whole body looking for injuries. You can also tell from the look on his face when he looks at your shin that your injury there is worrisome. 

“It’s my fault,” Tyler shakes his head, refusing to move his hands from your cheeks. It’s as if you’ll fade away if he lets go. “I shouldn’t have told you to go east. I was just trying to get you out of the way of the tornado cause I felt that yours wasn’t gonna develop, but then ours changed course and it was heading straight towards you and I couldn’t get here fast enough and god, the idea of losing you, of never seeing you again, of never asking–”

“Tyler!” 

He stops talking, having not even realised that he had let the situation get the better of him and had been rambling on. When he meets your eyes, you’re shocked to see that there are tears in his. 

“You never call me by my first name.”

“I didn’t think I’d be able to get your attention if I didn’t.”

Your reach up and take one of his hands off of your face and weave your fingers between his. You don’t really know what you’re doing, exactly, but all you know is you need to comfort him. That and you’re shaking like a leaf and the feeling of holding his hand is like an anchor to the world. A reminder that you’re alive. 

“I’m still here, Tyler. I’m all right.”

“You’re not,” he shakes his head. “You’re hurt, and it’s because of me–”

You take him by surprise as you reach up and place your own hand on his cheek. It’s only when you touch his face that you remember your hand is covered in blood and mud, but when you try and take it away, Tyler places his hand over the top of it. His eyes flutter closed and he lets out a long breath that feels to you that it’s something like relief.

The two of you stay there like that for what feels like an eternity but is really just a few minutes, soaking in the feeling of each others skin and coming to terms with the realisation that you’re alive. 

“It’s not your fault, Tyler,” you mutter softly. “You couldn’t have known that tornado was going to change course and head straight for us. Just because that bet ended up landing us in the path of a probable EF4 doesn’t mean you’re the one to blame for it. I don’t blame you.”

He blinks his eyes open and stares at yours for a moment. 

“Now, what were you saying about asking me something?” You try to change the subject.

There’s a look of something in Tyler’s eyes that you can’t quite place, but it drops off of his face instantly at your words and he lets out an awkward laugh. “I don’t think now’s the right time, darlin’,” he says. “Some other time, when you’re not bleeding and injured. We need to get you out of here and to a hospital.”

You shake your head, ignoring the fact that the movement makes you a little dizzy. “I could have just died and I would have never known what it is you wanted to ask me. So I want to know what it is right now.” You’re surprised at how strong your voice sounds, even though you don’t feel strong at all right now.

Tyler sighs and you can see by the look on his face that he’s giving in to you. “I was trying to get the courage to ask you out, was trying last night actually but I chickened out. You can be quite intimidating sometimes, you know that?”

For a moment, you just stare at Tyler. 

“I thought I was the one who hit my head. Did you hit yours too?”

He lets out a soft laugh. “Something like that.”

“You need another reminder that we’re supposed to hate each other?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I think I’ve had enough reminders to last me a lifetime. But I’m done with pretending to hate you. With trying to convince my team that I dislike you so much. I know they know the truth. It doesn’t matter, even though you can’t stand me.” 

You meet Tyler’s eyes and in them, you can see that he’s telling the truth. He doesn’t hate you, nor dislike you, nor anything similar. With the way he’s looking at you, the way he was calling your name, the way he panicked so much when he thought you were seriously hurt… he really was trying to ask you out. Just the thought of it makes that feeling rise in your stomach again, and for the first time you recognise the feeling for what it truly is – butterflies. You don’t get butterflies from people you hate.

“I don’t hate you, Tyler.”

You can see the surprise flash across his eyes.

“You don’t hate me?”

“You annoy the hell out of me and you drive me insane sometimes. But no. You fascinate me, and you make me laugh, and even though every member of my team hates you and your stupid red truck, I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to be in the passenger seat with you, driving head first into a tornado, and I nearly said yes when you asked me earlier.”

Tyler chuckles. “My truck is not stupid.”

“Does your passenger seat really have my name on it?”

“Embroidered it myself.”

You laugh, then, a real, full laugh, and Tyler can’t help but laugh as well at the absurdity of the situation. You’ve just survived a devastating tornado, you’re injured in more ways than one, Tyler Owens has just told you he likes you and you’ve come to the realisation that you like the fact that he does. And maybe, you like him a little bit too.

“We’re not gonna make it to that rodeo tonight, are we?” You ask, once the laughs subside.

Tyler shakes his head. “Rain check for the next one?”

“That’s how you’re asking me out?”

He doesn’t get a chance to reply before you both hear your names being called and look up just as Boone and Robbie appear at the top of the gully. Tyler turns around to look at them. They look relieved to have found you both, and you feel just as relieved to see that Robbie is alive and well, only a little battered just like you are. Even if you’re a little disappointed that your moment with Tyler was interrupted. It seems that happens more often than not lately.

“Is she okay?” Boone asks Tyler.

He nods. “Yeah, but she’s injured. We’re gonna need a hand out of here.”

“We got you,” Boone says.

—

“So, when are you asking me out properly, Owens?” You ask.

It’s been a week since the tornado and a week since you found out that Tyler Owens had been wanting to ask you out for months. Boone had stayed true to his word that day, using a rope and Tyler’s truck to pull you both up out of the gully.

Tyler had barely left your side since – even in the truck ride to the hospital. He usually hated letting anyone drive his truck other than himself, but that day he’d thrown the keys to Boone so he didn’t have to take any of his attention off of you. He’d stayed with you in the hospital as well, even when the rest of your team turned up to check on you and Robbie.

You were surprised at how quickly your teams had dropped their rivalry after the tornado. They’d clearly seen the way you and Tyler acted around each other, how things had changed after the tornado, even though both of you refused to give them details on what had happened when Tyler had found you in the gully. 

It was something both of you were glad for.

“You can’t just ask me that,” Tyler says, kicking his legs up on the desk in the small motel room. Luckily, he’d taken off his muddy boots when he’d come inside to check on you. He had insisted you go back home to recover from your leg injury, but you’d refused. 

“I can’t?” You ask from your spot on the bed, resting your leg up on some pillows. It had luckily not been too bad of an injury, just a reasonably deep cut that needed stitching and wrapping. You still had to be careful not to rip the stitches, which meant no storm chasing and only resting for the time being. 

Tyler nods. “You made me admit the truth to you while we were both covered in mud and blood in the bottom of a wet, muddy gully. I’m not going to ask you out while you’re sitting on a motel room bed with an injured leg and stitches in your forehead. I’m classier than that.”

You snort. “You, classy?”

“From time to time,” he shrugs a shoulder.

You jokingly roll your eyes at him. “I’ll believe it when I see it. You know, you never actually explained what the other bet you wanted to make with me that day was. Was that something to do with asking me out as well?”

Tyler’s face broke out into a grin. “Maybe.”

“Of course,” you can’t help but laugh at the silly look on his face. “Are you at least going to ask me before I get swept up in another tornado?”

“Darlin’,” Tyler stands up and crosses the room until he’s standing right beside you. One of his hands reaches down and picks up yours, weaving his fingers in-between yours. “If you get swept up in a tornado, I’m going to be right beside you. I’m gonna be beside you for as long as you let me. For as long as I get. As long as I get, okay?”

He repeats it like a mantra. Because if he says it enough, he’s certain it will come true.

[azrielbrainrot]

A Helping Hand

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Description: A seemingly innocent confession ends with you in Azriel's bed.

Warnings: Smut, fingering, some dirty talk

Word Count: 1,2k

Notes: I've been having a bit of writer's block and decided to just finish this little prompt I had in my notes since forever ago. Hope you enjoy!

It's hard to remember how you ended up here. It's hard to remember your own name to be honest. You think it would even be possible for you to forget how to breathe when Azriel's fingers have set such a mind numbing rhythm, stretching you out so deliciously.

One minute you were confessing to your friend about how no male had ever made you finish, and the next you were lying naked on his soft mattress, his hazel eyes half lidded with desire as he cooed down at the mess you were making and all the sinful noises you were letting out.

“Are you still with me, pretty?”

You let out a loud moan at the question, one he punctuated with a deeper, sharper thrust. Hands clutching onto his soft hair to pull him in closer, his lips meeting yours, allowing you to indulge yourself for a moment. You can't believe you've lived this long without the feeling of his lips on yours.

Azriel pulls away far too soon, your lips chasing his in a hopeless attempt of keeping him close, a whine escaping you when he moves completely out of your reach.

“I asked you a question,” he murmurs, voice heavy with desire as he watches the way your pussy swallows his fingers greedily.

It takes you a moment to remember that he even spoke up let alone what he asked you. “Yes. Gods, yes. Please don't stop,” you find yourself begging when you do.

Azriel lets out a satisfied hum, leaning down to leave little bites and wet kisses all over your chest, almost purring when your fingers tangle in his locs, fingers alternating between massaging his scalp and pulling hard when the pleasure he's bringing you gets too much.

It doesn't take long for you to get impatient, drunk on the sensations he's bringing you, but still greedily needing more, your hips chasing his fingers, silently begging him to go faster, harder.

“Az,” you whimper when it's clear he won't listen unless you ask him to. “I need more.”

He abandons your chest with one last bite, looking up at your heavy lidded eyes, a smirk growing on his face.

“You think you're ready to cum?”

“Please.”

It's amazing how fast he reduced you to begging. You can't believe this whole thing started because you thought there was something wrong with you, or that you just couldn't cum with a partner when Azriel had reduced you to a pool of pleasure in a couple thrusts of his fingers. He hadn't even fully undressed you, simply pulling your dress up to your hips and then down your chest to keep his mouth busy. You can only imagine what else he could do if you gave him the chance.

“You don't have to beg. I told you I'd take care of you,” he says, looking down to your dripping pussy as he speeds up his thrusts, curling his fingers just right.

You were so, so close. It felt like you were staring down at the top of a precipice, only needing the slightest nudge to jump down into oblivion.

“You've been doing so good for me. Making such a pretty mess of my fingers.” He trusts his fingers in sloppily, showcasing just how much of a mess you're making, the sinful sounds echoing around the room along with your pathetic pants and whimpers. “Can you hear it?” You think you could be heard down the hall.

Azriel was never particularly talkative, even as you grew closer, he always prefered to listen rather than speak. You really could have never imagined him to have such a dirty mouth. It never occurred to you how attractive his voice was either, probably overshadowed by everything else, but now you think you could listen to him talk forever.

“You're so wet I think I could just slip right in,” he adds more to himself than to you, but it has a destructive effect all the same. A needy whimper escapes you, your cunt instinctively clenching around his fingers at the thought.

Of course, this doesn't go unnoticed by him, making him look up with a curious and feral glint to his eyes, “You'd like that?”

The reality of the situation sobers you up for a moment, realizing that this would have a noticeable shift to your friendship, one you cherished, but as his fingers threaten to slow down their pace, likely noticing the seriousness that you felt, you grab onto him.

“Yes, I would,” you confess, looking deep into his eyes.

He picks up his face again, those burning hazel eyes never straying from yours. “I can fuck you. I can show you every little thing those bastards never did, bring you pleasure you never thought possible,” he says, “but first you need to cum for me, alright?”

Dropping a quick kiss to your lips, Azriel moves down your body, leaving open mouthed kisses as he goes, his fingers never stopping or giving you a moment to breathe properly. He stops for a moment, lingering around the waistband of your panties, sucking a mark right above where you needed to feel him so desperately.

You're not sure if he's waiting for permission, but your hand falls to his head when it's clear he won't move on his own, giving him a more than encouraging nudge. He complies with a chuckle that sends a shiver down your spine, his warm breath ghosting over your wet flesh.

When his mouth closes around your clit, you feel an overwhelming amount of pleasure rush over you, lasting only a couple slow circles of his tongue around the sensitive spot before you to cum, head falling back against the mattress, back arching into him as your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open in a silent moan of his name.

Your fingers tighten around his hair though you're unsure if you were pulling him closer or trying to push him away in the middle of the mind numbing sensations. The resulting groan he releases sends vibrations over you, only adding to the already destructive orgasm you were experiencing.

It takes you a bit to come down, and when you do you find Azriel looking down at your face, pride distinguishable in his eyes, his fingers still working inside you softly, fucking you all through your orgasm.

He smiles at you when he catches you watching him through heavy lidded eyes, “So,” he stops his movements, bringing his face, still covered in your release, closer to you. “Do you still think there's something wrong with you?”

The idea is laughable to even consider now, and you can't help the disbelieving chuckle that escapes, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him into a kiss.

“No, I think I just have terrible taste,” your murmur, caressing his cheek with the pad of your thumb, “Thank you for this, Azriel.”

“You don't have to thank me, love. I was more than happy to help,” he pecks your lips, a suggestive smile taking over his features, “And I still am, whenever you need me to.”

“Actually,” a grin of your own growing, your legs wrapping around his waist, almost moaning out when you felt the evidence of his arousal pressing against your sensitive heat, feeling insatiable even though he just gave you the strongest orgasm you've ever felt, “I think you just said you had a lot more to show me, right?”

[hanjsquokka]

when the cherry blossoms fall.

lee minho × fem!reader — soulmate au, high school au, time traveling, love at first sight, drawing closer × lovely runner, fluff/angst

summary — minho wasn't meant to see you there, falling for you before he even knew your name or why you were attached to that tube. fate was so cruel to bring you close, only to pull you away before he got to tell you those three little words he was keeping inside him. but when the same cruel destiny presented an opportunity to make things right, he wasn't going to let it slip away from him again.

warnings — mentions of illness, death, hospitals, time traveling, depression, characters are aged 18/19 for half of the story, blood (i don't want to spoil the whole plot so i'll just leave it at this)

word count — 6.7K words

soundtrack — listen here

author's note — drawing closer broke me. i have never cried so much, it was just so sad :(. i love writing high school au sm, it's a lot of fun. this layout is inspired by the lovely @starseungs <3 i hope you enjoy reading this. please reblog and comment, i'd love to hear your thoughts since this is something very different to what i've written before <33

The fan above him spun around with a loud creak, making more noise than giving him air. The environment was cold outside, with winter still clinging to the wind, making a chill run down his spine amidst his worry for his friend. Hyunjin was far too reckless for his own good—why did he never listen to Minho? He was right after all. He did that stupid skateboard stunt, and now look what happened. Minho had to bring him to the hospital because he was almost a hundred percent sure he broke his leg.

“You're not a teenager anymore, Hyunjin,” Minho chided as Hyunjin paid him no heed, too excited to ride the skateboard that he found in the dusty boxes of his garage. Once upon a time, Hyunjin was really good at skateboarding. But it had been years since then. “At least do something normal.”

“Normal is for losers.”

He shook his head, not wanting to recount the sound of the sickening crack of the skateboard followed by his friend's wail of pain. A wave of goosebumps formed over his skin as he tried to focus on something else, like how he would tell him I told you so when he saw him about how he could be as dumb as he was seven years ago and watch him roll his eyes. He gazed at the branch of the sakura tree he could see outside the window, still bare from the snowy months.

The faint smell of soap was followed by loud giggles. He turned his head to the source of the sound, eyes following on a couple young kids jumping up and down as they were surrounded by bubbles, dancing around a person sitting in a wheelchair. 

That was when he saw you.

You blew another bout of the soapy spheres, the sunlight refracting through them and creating tiny, diffused rainbows. Your eyes nearly turned into crescents, crinkling at the corners as you laughed along with the children. Your smile was so contagious that he could feel the corners of his own lips tugging upward. It was like the filter of his eyes changed, and the world suddenly became more vibrant and colorful—just because of you. He didn't even notice the tube that ran along beneath your nose, the way you couldn't move your body beneath your waist, or the ill-fitting hospital gown you had on. 

Minho couldn't tear his eyes away from you, not even when a nurse approached him to inform him of Hyunjin's condition. A quick snap brought him out of his trance, his ears turning red along with his cheeks. He quietly got up and shuffled behind the nurse towards the room Hyunjin was resting in.

Over the next week, Minho visited the hospital twice a day to meet Hyunjin, once in the morning before work and once in the evening after work. A couple of their other friends came every now and then, but it was mostly just Minho.

And he wanted to keep it that way.

Not to be disrespectful to his friend, but he wanted to see you without getting hounded by relentless teasing and possibly drive you away (not like he had ever spoken to you; no, this was all in his head).

There was something about you that drew Minho in, like a moth to a flame. Like he knew you from somewhere, but he couldn't put a finger on it.

The following Sunday, the day Hyunjin was being discharged, Minho was there at the hospital. He was miserably failing at operating the water cooler to quench his parched throat, his ears turning pink from the effort of trying to find out why water wasn't coming out of the faucet when he turned the knob. 

“That thing has never worked,” a voice said from behind. You approached him in your wheelchair, a permanent smile on your face as you looked at him, hands folded in your lap.

“Oh…” He felt stupid. 

“Here you go.” You handed him a plastic water bottle, which he gratefully took and took a few gulps, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I've seen you a lot around here; are you unwell?”

“Oh? No, no—my friend—he did something stupid and broke his leg. I didn't want to leave him alone.”

You nodded your head. “That's sad. Is he okay?”

Minho nodded. “He's okay enough to talk my ear off.” He chuckled, to which you chuckled in return. A warm, fluttery feeling rose on his chest at the thought of him making you smile. “Thank you... for the water.”

“No problem. You looked like you were going to break that.”

“Was I?” His face flushed, and he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand sheepishly at your words. 

“What's your name?”

“Minho. What about you?”

“Y/n.”

Y/n… He liked that. He wanted to say something more—to keep talking to you so he could hear that voice of yours that made his heart tap dance in his rib cage when a group of kids ran up to you, talking over each other in excited giggles and shrieks. You laughed along with them as they tugged at your hand.

“I'm sorry. I'll see you again later?” He nodded quickly, forgetting that Hyunjin was going to be discharged. He had no reason to come back, but you wanted him to come back, right? Or were you just being polite in front of the kids so he wouldn't be reduced to a pile of shame?

Despite his conflicting thoughts, he found himself visiting the hospital every day without fail, hoping to at least catch a glimpse of you, and was surprised to see you waiting for him near the water cooler. That set your friendship in motion, with you talking endlessly every evening about anything and everything. The invisible red string that tied him to you brought him closer and closer. You were a siren, and he was a sailor entranced by your voice.

The weather grew warmer, and spring began to show itself in the trees and in the flowers. The snow-covered roads were no longer a hassle to drive on, and Minho could finally put away his boots, opting for a more comfortable pair of shoes for work and to visit you. Like clockwork, at five in the evening, he switched off his computer, shoved his papers into his work bag, and made a beeline for his car, no longer needing a map because he already knew the way.

You were there waiting for him in your room after he checked in at the reception, eager to tell him more tales and funny stories, anecdotes of other patients, and the kids you hung out with. Sometimes, you and he would talk for hours. Sometimes, you sat in silence, sketching away in your book, while he sat beside you, reading a book.

Minho showed you pictures of his three cats, which you dawned on almost immediately, cooing at the sight of the three kitties, making his heart melt. He wished he could bring them, but he couldn't, so he showed you as many videos and photos he could since they seemed to bring you immense joy.

Some days, however, you could hardly sit up, laying down on the bed with a grimace on your face. You thought you could hide from him, but he knew you were in pain. He was in pain, seeing you like that. You didn't mention it in your endless conversation, so he assumed you didn't like to talk about it.

He never asked you why you were in the hospital in the first place, why all the happiness drained out of your face when you tried to move in your wheelchair, why that tube sat above your pretty pink lips—he didn't see all that. He only saw you.

You and your wonderful smile.

You and your ability to light up his world.

You and the way you always made his heart skip a beat.

You and your beautiful eyes that he swore held galaxies inside; he could stare at them forever.

“I can't wait for the sakuras to bloom,” you said one day, the two of you sitting in the shade of a cherry blossom outside of the hospital. “It's my favorite part of the whole year.” But while you were looking at the budding pink blossoms, he was looking at your face.

He was falling. Falling hard. You were the first thought on his mind when he woke up and the last one when he went to sleep. He dreamed of you, sweet little fantasies of spending the rest of his life with you.

He knew you better than himself, that you liked pancakes drowned in syrup and berries on top, that you loved a specific type of daisy called a gerbera daisy—a flower that looked as vibrant as you, that you hated the thunder but loved the rain, and that you were an amazing artist. Your dreams of becoming a painter and having something in the Louvre Museum in Paris, visiting the top of Tokyo Tower, and swimming at the beach. It made you so happy to talk about them that it made him happy, grinning ear to ear as you animatedly explained all the details to him.

“Whoa, we were in the same class,” Minho said, eyes wide with shock as he looked at the yearbook in your hands. You were both on the topic of school when you found out that the place you were describing felt too similar. It was only when you talked about a certain math teacher that you realized it was the same person.

Minho dug through his old school things at home and found his yearbook; the insides of the cover were scribbled with so many names of people whom he used to call friends.

It was funny how you two had crossed paths before, but he had no recollection of you. He silently cursed at his past teenage self for not knowing you—then again, fate worked in different ways.

“Yeah, I was looking through it, and I saw your face. Weird, right?” He nodded, looking at the photo of you from seven years ago. You looked almost exactly the same, except now your hair has grown out much more. How had he never noticed you?

His feelings towards you have only increased since then, to the point where they felt suffocating to bottle up inside him. Like a volcano waiting to erupt. He took one look at your face and zoned out, completely missing what you said and barely covering up when you asked him for his opinion. He had to bite his tongue every time he almost blurted out that sentence that was marinating in his brain.

I love you.

“You're down bad,” Hyunjin told him after Minho confessed to having feelings for you after he was confronted about his visits to the hospital for the past two months. “Like bad bad. I never thought I'd see you like this.”

“I like her,” Minho admitted again. “A lot. Now that I've known her, I don't think I can go back to pretending she doesn't exist.”

“Then tell her.”

He paused. “Confess… to Y/n?”

Hyunjin let out an exasperated sigh, shifting his position on the couch. “Yes, Minho, proclaim your love to the woman you love.”

“Is that a good idea?”

“If you like her so much despite her problems, then it's worth a shot, don't you think? And I have a feeling she feels the same way.”

“You think so?”

“There is only one way to find out.”

There is only one way to find out.

Hyunjin was right. Minho should confess. No harm in doing that, right? He picked out his best shirt, tucking it into his pants, and looked at his reflection in the mirror, messing with his hair for a while before he gave up and let it be. He smoothed down the wrinkles in the crisp white shirt, wondering if he was too dressed up for this. He sprayed on some cologne that you had complimented the day he wore it and gave himself a pep talk as he drove to a flower shop.

With bright red gerbera daisies in hand, he took a few deep breaths in front of the hospital entrance. The cherry blossom trees were in full bloom, ready to fall at any moment. You would love to see them, he thought, smiling to see himself. If things went the way he wanted them to, he would bring you out here and sit at a bench. Maybe get some ice cream from the cafeteria and watch the sakura trees.

Minho steeled himself and walked inside, making his way to the front desk. It was a daily routine, but today was different. His hair on the back of his neck was on end, and his heart was beating uncomfortably loudly in his chest.

“I'm here to see Y/N,” he told the receptionist. He was expecting her to tell him to go down the hallway, take the elevator up to your floor, and go to your room, as he did every day. He didn't expect the nurse to look up at him with a solemn face, a jolt of panic going through him even before she said anything.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Lee. She passed away earlier today. Her illness suddenly became worse, and her body couldn't fight it.”

His heart dropped, along with the bouquet of red flowers in his hands. “What? But—but I was here yesterday. She was fine. How—” His vision blurred with tears as the nurse once again shook her head in sorrow. His ears rang loudly, hands gripping onto the countertop hard enough to make his knuckles white, his throat closing up as he felt like the whole world was crumbling in front of him. His heart was ripped out of his chest and trampled upon as the nurse explained to him and told him about your final resting place. She handed him an envelope, sealed with a sticker of a strawberry and his name written on the front in your handwriting.

He sat in his car and cried for a long time, his forehead resting on the steering wheel as sob after sob racked through his body. His throat ached and his eyes burned, but he couldn't stop crying. The world became dull again; the happiness and light that you once brought are gone. Even after he shed his last tear, his heart squeezed dry and now hollow, he still couldn't will himself to drive away; he couldn't make himself look at the envelope sitting next to him in the passenger seat.

Minho blasted the air conditioner and closed his eyes to take a few deep breaths, but he was plagued by visions of you, and the pain in his heart increased tenfold. He didn't know how long he was sitting there in his car, but he did know that he could never tell you how much he loved you, how you made his life worth living, and how he would cherish you with his whole heart for eternity.

I love you.

Dear Minho,

If you're reading this then… I must not be there anymore. Firstly, I want to thank you for making the last few months of my life so memorable. I loved every moment I spent with you, and I wish I could've had many more—perhaps a lifetime more. Thank you for making me smile when my heart felt heavy, for making me laugh when I felt like crying, and for showing me so much more love than I deserve. 

Second, I want to tell you I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not telling you the full story of me, the reasons why I'm paralyzed below my waist, and why I was so sick I could barely move sometimes. Because when you were there, I wanted to be happy. I didn't want to think about my illness or the fact that I would die and leave you alone. It was too much to bear, although I thought about it every night.

All those dreams I told you about? The biggest one I had was to be with you. This is the third thing I wanted to tell you, but I never had the chance because I was too much of a coward, which is that I like you. No, I love you. I've loved you since we were in school. I recognized you in the hospital that day, and you didn't, but I was so happy to see you again, although I wish you didn't have to see me in that state, lying on my deathbed.

I love you so much, Lee Minho. I wish we had more time together, but I cherished every moment we had. I love you, and I always will. And I hope you do too.

Forever,

Y/n.

The words in your letter were permanently etched into his brain, a painful reminder of your absence and of how oblivious he was to your reciprocated feelings. He couldn't move for a few days, lying in bed, alternating between crying and simply staring at the ceiling, memories of you playing in his head again and again like a broken record he never wanted to fix.

Minho didn't visit you until Sunday, not wanting to believe the harsh reality of you not being with him anymore. He did his best to hide any remnant of his red eyes and puffy face, dressed in the shirt you liked, and bought red gerbera daisies once again to see you. He had to look good for you.

It took him a while to find you, but there you were.

In loving memory of a loving daughter and dear friend, Y/N L/N

(25.03.1999 - 10.04.2024)

“Hey,” his voice cracked. He stubbornly tried to blink at the tears forming in his eyes. Minho bit his lip, kneeling down to place the flowers in front of the tombstone and brushing some dirt off of the granite. “I miss you.” A wobbly smile formed on his face. He could almost see your face in front of him, a teasing glint in your eyes as you poked fun at him. He sniffled, turning away to wipe his eyes. “And you never gave me the chance to tell you that... that I love you too. I was nervous, and now I'm too late. I'm sorry, Y/n.” He choked on his words and stood up. “I would do anything to get you back.”

There was a cool breeze, ruffling his hair. He thought it was you and closed his eyes, imagining it was your hands carding through his air. He felt something fall on him—cherry blossoms. The wind carried them in a delicate dance, surrounding him and you in a flurry of pink petals.

“The sakuras are blooming,” he said sadly.

But you weren't here to see it.

The drive home was silent. Minho didn't put the radio on, half focused on the idle roads and darkening horizon. The cherry blossom trees all over the city were blooming, he noticed, as his car stood idle at a red light. He believed a part of him died along with you. You were his soulmate; that's what he liked to believe. You were connected in more ways than one, with destiny pulling on your strings to get you close and then snipping the thread at the last second.

The light turned red. He changed the gear and moved forward.

It all happened too fast: the rev of another car coming in from his side at a speed double that of the limit, him noticing too late as the front crashed to his left, his head flying into the window and breaking the glass into shards that wedged into his skin.

And then everything went black. 

Minho's head shot up. Was he dead? Did he die in that car crash? His head was killing him; a throb was coming from deep inside his brain, making him wince and hold his head. But there was no blood on his hands when he pulled away. How was that possible?

“Are you okay?” He looked up. Hyunjin was approaching him along with a few other people he recognized as Bang Chan, Han Jisung, and... Kim Seungmin? He hadn't spoken to the last one since high school. “I think it hit you really hard.”

“What do you mean, I was in a—” He halted in his tracks. “What are you wearing?” Minho's eyes were trained on the gray blazer he was wearing, a gold pin affixed to the lapel. Underneath was a navy blue waistcoat and a white shirt collar peeking above.

Hyunjin blinked. “What do you mean?”

“No,” he said, letting out something that was a mix of a laugh and a scoff. “Why are you wearing that? Are you pulling my leg?”

“My… uniform?”

“Yah, Minho, did you hit your head that hard?” Jisung laughed, slinging an arm over his shoulder, making him bend. 

“Of course I did, I—”

His mind clicked. They were standing on a field. Not just any old field—their school play field, where they used to play soccer every day after class. There was laughter and yelling all around him. Hyunjin, Jisung, Chan, and Seungmin—even Minho himself—were wearing the same clothes. Gray blazer, white shirt, gray slacks, and the gold pin. Some were wearing the navy blue waistcoat and a tie, but it was the same thing from seven years ago.

“This isn't funny; why are we here?” This had to be some joke, courtesy of Jisung. He was a prankster, but this was taking it too far.

“Minho, are you sure you're okay? Do you need to go to the nurse?” Chan had worry written all over his face. 

Minho glanced at each of them, getting more and more confused by the second. His eyes flitted down to his clothes and back up, at the other students, the school building, and back to his friends.

“Maybe he has a concussion,” Seungmin quipped. “I told those rugby guys to take it down a notch.”

Those words sounded familiar. A sense of deja vu washed over him, his hair pricking on end, and a light bulb went off in his head.

This has happened before.

“Hey, Lee Minho... You're scaring me.” Hyunjin's hand held his left bicep and shook him.

“This happened before... Why am I here? I graduated school seven years ago...” He muttered underneath his breath.

“What are you saying? I think we need to take you to the nurse.”

Minho cut Chan off. “Today, what is today's date?”

“April 10th, why?”

“The year, Seungmin.”

“2017—”

The air was knocked out of his lungs. He was in the past. Seven years in the past. He was still in his last year of high school, liked playing soccer, never wore the uniform correctly, and was still friends with Kim Seungmin.

“Y/n…” 

You would be alive. If he was right and he was somehow transported back in time to when he was in school, you would be alive. You would be okay, not lying in a hospital bed, unable to move, waiting for your illness to consume you. 

He had another chance.

“Y/n? You mean from our class? Why d—”

Minho leaped at Hyunjin, his eyes blazing with determination. He held his shoulders as he spoke again. “Where is she?”

“I think she was leaving?”

That was all Minho needed to know. He quickly grabbed his bag and bolted down the field onto the pavement that led to the main gate. He could hear his friends calling for him; they were undoubtedly confused by his behavior, but that didn't matter. All he had to do was make sure you were alive. He spotted a girl walking, a backpack slung over her back.

There was only one way he could find out.

“Y/n?” He called, hoping he wasn't making a fool of himself in front of someone else.

The girl turned, and his heart stopped.

It was you, a younger version of you, the one from the yearbook, looking at him with a confused tilt of your head. He could see your lips move, probably saying his name, but he couldn't hear it. There was a gust of wind, the breeze urging him to surge forward, and he did, colliding into your body and embracing you tightly. His breaths were uneven, tears forming in his eyes as he rested his chin on top of your head, his fingers brushing through your hair.

“You're okay…” He squeezed you tighter.

You were the first one to pull away; your cheeks were tinted pink. You couldn't meet his eyes. “Why did you do that? Is something wrong, Minho? Of course I'm okay.”

Minho felt something fall on his shoulder. A sakura. The cherry blossom trees were blooming, showering the two of you with a cascade of pink petals. His eyes searched yours, but he could only see bewilderment. A relieved laugh escaped him. He squatted on the ground and covered his face with his hands.

He got another chance.

Another chance with you.

He looked back up at you and felt a multitude of emotions bubble up in him, but the main one was love.

“Yeah, you're okay.”

“You're acting weird.”

“Can I walk you home?”

“Sure, but—”

“Great.”

Minho was all smiles; he couldn't stop it. His heart was beating out of his chest as he walked alongside you, gripping onto the strap of his bag, his ears turning pink every time your shoulders brushed his. He was beyond happy, relieved, and excited, all at the same time. He tried to fill the silence of the walk by asking you questions like how your day had gone, what you ate for lunch, and if he could walk home with you every day.

You were completely flustered and confused; he could see that. It must be weird for you for him to come talk out of nowhere. He remembered that you had liked him since high school, so that means this would work out. He just had to act normal and make sure he would change your fate and his, to make sure that you would be with him forever.

“This is me,” you awkwardly gestured to the house the two of you had stopped in front of.

Minho nodded, feeling a little upset that you had to go away too soon. “Right… Well, I'll see you tomorrow.”

You bit your lip. “Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow, Minho. Get home safe.”

“I will,” he grinned and waved goodbye before he set for his house, turning around one last time to see you on the porch if your house was doing a happy dance, which made him laugh, his face flushing red.

You were okay.

And so was he.

It took him a while to find his own house in the unfamiliar neighborhood he was in. He missed living in his parent's place, with his mother's home-cooked food that he hadn't eaten in ages. When was the last time he visited his mom and dad? He eagerly went up to the door and opened it, the familiar sight of the entryway making him nostalgic. 

“Someone's all smiles today,” his mom said with a chuckle, watching him untie his shoes and put on his house slippers. His mother looked younger than he had last seen her, wearing a cardigan. He remembered that she said that it had shrunk in the washing machine. It was brand new now. “Did you have a good day today, sweetheart?”

“The best. I'll be in my room,” he said, almost tripping over his two feet in giddiness as he went up the stairs to his bedroom. It looked exactly the same as he used to have it. He threw his bag onto the floor and then himself onto his bed, breathing in the smell of the detergent on the bedsheets.

“This is crazy,” he said to himself. If all of this was a dream, he never wanted to wake up. Maybe he was in a coma from the car crash, but it all felt too real. He remembered this day happening before: getting hit in the head by a rugby ball, and Seungmin chiding the guys who were playing with it. This was obviously not a prank; everyone looked younger and was befuddled, looking at him like he was nuts. 

He time-traveled. Actually, time traveled back to the past to save you.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He even had his old phone.

Hyunjin: Minho, you're okay, right? You were acting really weird.

Minho: Yeah, I'm fine. I think I got hurt more than I thought I did.

Hyunjin: Okay 🤨

Hyunjin: Why did you run off like that, though? You don't even talk to Y/N, and suddenly you were acting as if she were on the verge of death?

Minho : I just needed to check something.

Hyunjin: You're weird. Get some sleep and don't be late tomorrow again, or Seung's going to kill you.

Minho: I won't 🙄

He was back in 2017. He was a teenager again. 

“This is so cool.”

It was something straight out of a movie. Minho felt like he was living in a fever dream, being able to relive his adolescence. Since he knew how much he could lose, he made sure to make this second chance worth it. Instead of skipping meals and eating from the vending machine, he scarfed down whatever delicious meal his mother made, making both of his parents laugh at his sudden switch in behavior. 

“Eat slowly, or you'll choke,” his dad said with a chuckle when Minho piled on more food and eagerly shoved it down his throat.

He took the opportunity to join a dance class like he did when he was a kid, knowing that he regretted not doing it years later.

Instead of wasting time in class and being moody, he studied—trying to study. 

Then again, he had you to help. Y/N, the wise one, teased when the two of you sat together in the library during lunch on the premise of studying, but you mostly ended up laughing so hard that the librarian kicked the two of you out. 

He spent more time with his friends, doing everything he was bitter about later in life.

Months passed by like this. Minho woke up in his bed every day, was greeted by his 2PM posters on his wall, ate breakfast with his parents, and went to school. He daydreamed about you in class, much to the suspicions of his friends, and walked home with you. He had to make sure nothing happened to you that would derail his plan for the perfect future.

“Do you like Y/N?” Hyunjin asked during lunch one day, pulling a chair out in front of him with a loud scraping noise. It was autumn, and the air was much colder in the mornings than it was a few weeks ago. The cherry blossom trees were barren, awaiting spring to bloom once more. 

“Good afternoon to you too, Hyune.” Minho greeted him and continued to eat his lunch.

“Don't deflect my question. Do you like her or not?”

“And if I do?”

Hyunjin's eyes went so big that Minho thought they'd fall right out of their sockets. “Seriously?”

“Why is it that interesting to you?”

“Oh, this is a golden opportunity.” Hyunjin leaned forward with his elbows on the desk.

“Why are you so interested in my love life?”

“Please, the last time you admitted to having a crush, it was on the idol singer Lee Hyori. I have a right to be curious.” Minho rolled his eyes, but he was a bit flustered. He still hadn't thought of how he would take the relationship with you to the next level. The last time he planned to confess, well, that didn't end well. “What do you like about her? She's pretty; I get that. And she's really good at art, and she's smart.”

“Have you made your point?” He raised a brow.

Hyunjin let out a frustrated sigh. “You're so mean, Lee Minho.” He hit his shoulder lightly. “I'm just saying this, okay? But I accidentally eavesdropped on a conversation her friends were having—an accident, okay? And I think I heard Y/n's name moving in the same sentence.”

Minho choked, his face turning red as he coughed, picked up his water bottle to drink some water, and took big gulps of air afterwards. “What?”

Hyunjin's words haunted him the whole day and then the next day because you weren't coming to school, nor were you answering his texts. He was trying hard to not look desperate, but he was grasping at straws. 

The weekend rolled around, and he was getting worried. What if Hyunjin was right and you had moved away? But you wouldn't do that without telling him, right? The two of you were friends. 

Friends.

His mother had the worst timing when she sent him to pick up some things from the store—a loud crack of thunder and the pitter-patter of raindrops began the second he stepped into the convenience store. He grabbed the things he needed as well as an umbrella, purchasing all of them at the register before standing outside underneath the umbrella.

That was when he caught the familiar sight of your form, crouching on the side of the road next to a small ball of fluff. The umbrella you were using barely covered you, as you were instead shielding a pair of kittens and cooing at them.

Minho's heart leaped into his chest, his legs moving on their own towards you and standing right next to you, covering you with his own umbrella. You looked up and then at him, a smile breaking out on your face, but this time he didn't return it.

“What happened to you? You disappeared for two days, and Hyunjin said you were moving and you weren't responding to me and—”

“Whoa, Min, breathe,” you chuckled and stood up. “What moving? I'm not moving. My friend is.”

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. “Oh.”

You laughed. “Were you worried about me?”

“Of course I was,” he blurted out, his cheeks flushing. He cleared his throat and looked away from you, his heart dancing in his ribcage. He'd planned to do this once before, but standing in front of you, all the courage drained right out of him, and he was left as a puddle of nerves. “So why didn't you come to school then?”

“I was sick.”

“You were sick. And you were out here standing in the rain for two cats?” He shook his head. “Hold this.” He pushed the umbrella he was holding into your hands and quickly shed his jacket, putting it over your shoulder and pulling the hood over your head, using it to try and dry your hair. “You're going to get sick again.” His hands stopped at the sides of your face, his lips parting as he looked into your eyes.

“Thank you…” Your face was also turning red at the proximity between the two of you that he just noticed. 

Minho swallowed the lump in his throat. Now or never. “I need to tell you something.”

“What?”

“I couldn't tell you this before because I was too scared, but now I know how much I have to lose.”

“What are you saying, Min?”

“Just let me finish, okay?” He took a deep breath, pushing a stand of wet hair out of your face. “I… I like you, Y/N. For a really long time, longer than you think.”

He waited with bated breath for your answer. “I like you too, Minho. I've liked you for a while now.”

He couldn't wait anymore. It was obviously too forward of him, but he'd been dreaming of this for way too long, and he wasn't going to let it slip through his fingers again. He pulled your face towards his and crashed his lips onto yours. You let out a muffled sound of surprise, but you reciprocated it, the umbrella falling out of your hands and onto the ground with a thud. Your arms rested on his shoulders while his drifted down to your waist, holding you in an embrace as he tenderly kissed you. Fireworks went off inside him. He could feel the thundering of your heart right above his. The two of you were soaked from the relentless rain, but he could care less.

He broke the kiss, his forehead leaning on yours as he took a few breaths. “Sorry, I just really wanted to do that.” It was a half-baked apology since he wasn't very sorry at all. His eyes were closed, taking in the intimacy of the moment.

“I liked it; don't worry. Just warn me next time, okay?”

Minho couldn’t help but tease you. "Oh, so you want a next time?” He laughed loudly when you hit his arm. “Of course there will be a next time; I plan on giving you many, many kisses.” He planted another one on your forehead to prove his point. He closed his eyes again and hugged you tightly.

Minho's head felt like it was splitting in two. Where was he? He blinked his eyes open, the white light above him causing him to groan. His clothes didn't feel wet anymore, and he was lying down with a white blanket over him. He lifted his hand up, only to see it was bandaged.

“Why—”

Memories of the car crash flooded his mind, and a flash of panic went through him. “No, no, no, no, no.” Was that really just a dream? Were you really gone? He felt tears pricking the corners of his eyes, his chest heaving up and down until—

“Thank God you're awake,” a voice said. He felt a hand brush the hair off of his forehead. The voice sounded too much like yours. But it couldn't be. All of that was in his imagination. 

Then you came into focus, your face filled with worry and your eyes pink, like you'd been crying for a while.

“Y-Y/n?” He lifted his bandaged hand up to your cheek. He needed to know you were real. He let out a sob of relief when he felt the warmth of your skin beneath his palm and then your own hand covering his. “You're here…”

“Of course I'm here, silly. Where else would I be?”

He pulled you onto him, tucking your head into his chest, and kissed the top of your head as a few tears rolled down his cheek. “Thank goodness.” He held you like that for a while, taking in the comforting scent of your perfume mixed in with the smile of your shampoo. “What happened?”

“Your car crashed on your way home from work... you don't remember?”

“That happened?”

“Yeah, the doctor said you had a concussion. You weren't waking up... I was so scared.”

His heart broke at your words. “I'm never leaving you, ever. You can't get rid of me that easily.” You let out a broken laugh and clung onto him. He let out a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Minho was discharged a day later. The doctor said he might experience temporary amnesia due to his head trauma and that he'd regain his memories soon. He still couldn't believe everything that had happened. He'd managed to save you. You were here with him.

The two of you took a stroll in the park, hand in hand, underneath the cherry blossoms trees. “Hey, Y/n?” He said softly, making you turn to him with a soft hum. “I love you.”

You smiled. “I love you too, Minho.”

That was all he needed to hear. A breeze shook the branches of the trees and the sakuras fell once again. He squeezed your hand and continued to walk alongside you as the pink petals and flowers showered on him, and this time, you were by his side. Where you were meant to be.

©hanjsquokka | copying, translating or republishing my work is strictly prohibited

[dcxdpdabbles]

Heyo! I've been loving the content! Especially new management, that was a phenomenal read. Was wondering if you had further thoughts or scenes on it or on the Single Dad Au? I think the only story I like better than these two is congratulations, it triplets!

Adore your work! Phenomenal!

Damian did not trust Daniel Fenton.

The man pretended like he wanted nothing from his Father besides his heart—not his wealth, not his influence, not his company, and not even his vast amount of skills.

Even Damian's mother—who was in love with Father for a time—could not conceal the knowledge that marrying Father would elevate her position in Grandfather's eyes. There was a time when Damian believed love—the romantic type—was not real, that it was unnecessary.

Since his arrival at Wayne Manor, he's learned to acknowledge that love does exist, but he still believes it's never unconditional. He knows that Fenton has to be after something. He attempted to find the answer, but as loath as he was to admit it, Damian had not detected any hit of what Fenton was after.

His hours of surveillance on the man only showed him that Fenton enjoyed writing for his silly little book series- a fantasy novelist how quant- but was self-published and did not attempt to get father to fund him

. Fenton also spent much time with his daughter but seemed happy to support her in anything she wanted as long as she put in the effort, so he was not after Father influenced her. Fenton had no interest in Wayne Enterprises, often looking a tad bored whenever Father spoke of it- not dismissive, just lost- which meant he wasn't after the company.

He discovered that Fenton lived modestly despite having a decent amount of funds. He was middle class and seemed rather happy to stay in the middle class.

Damian would have looked deeper into Fenton, but Father had caught on to his surveillance and had forbidden him from scaring away his lover. Knowing that he required backup, Damian had called a sibling meeting.

He was expecting better results than them just speaking about the benefits of Fenton and Father dating. They should focus on how to defend Father's heart once Fenton's true intentions become visible.

It wasn't that Fenton didn't love Father- or getting there- but he would have a darker side to him that Father was unprepared for. Damian was sure of it.

He just needed to find it.

That's why he approached the man's daughter. Indeed, she would open the opportunity to get closer to the man after his father without using his training to follow Fenton. Father could not fault his brilliant walkabout.

Damian was just not prepared for her to be more tolerable than the regular fools in Gotham. She was a fellow artist with a love of nature and travel.

She took him to different parts of Gotham, where they could find animals and wonderful buildings to draw. Dani also always shared her music—he didn't want to listen, but it allowed him to build a profile on her—and he found she also had an application for classical covers of pop music.

Dani also seemed so unbothered by anything. She moved as if she had never been weighed down by any issues. She was weightless but not lost. Seeing someone so at peace with themselves was odd, so Damian sometimes forgot why he was spending time with her.

Sometimes, he just relaxed with her and spoke to her, and really, she was far better than the fools his Father took in.

Dani one day asked if he would go with her to the mall. She wanted some new clothes, and Damian found that her style was rather artistic. This style also caused many stares from those close to their age.

He watched as she walked through the street, owning it with her presence and powerful, unchained personality. Then she acted like she didn't even care, though she definitely knew it.

That is why when she offered to help him buy an outfit, Damian agreed with far too much enthusiasm before she finished. He even wore it out of the store, feeling...like he got close to her unchained freedom. He kept glancing into the reflection of mirrors, a rish of glee at how great he felt in clothes that he would have scoffed at.

He also appreciated how people gawked at them as if they were the most fascinating thing they had ever seen. Damina enjoyed following beside Dani's stride, grinning up at her as she told jokes.

"Dude, it's crazy to think that if our Dads get married, we'll be siblings," she says one day, and Damian startles. She leans over, helping him adjust the beanie she got him, a more blurt red of her own, and Damian's eyes go very wide as she grins at him.

Damian's eyes go very wide.

He hadn't even thought of that.

He races home after she takes him to a slam poetry night, snapping her fingers with that interesting, peaceful, fully in-the-moment-without-stress personality of hers.

Damian kicks the door to Father's office and shouts, "Father, you must marry Daniel Fenton at once!"

He misses that Fenton is also there, sipping from a teacup. He'd never seen Father look that embarrassed before, either. Though Fenton seemed rather pleased, which helped his new quest of making Dani his new, much more enjoyable sister that left him in awe.

She promised to take him to her favorite store for more pastel goth outfits next week, too. Once her father marries in, they might turn it into a weekly thing.

[legendary-pink-dot]

Please, Mr Postman

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Rating: 18+ Explicit

Warnings: Unprotected PiV sex, butt play, creampie, oral (f receiving), and lots of sex toys. No ages mentioned or alluded to. Reader is married. There are themes of infidelity, blackmail and stalking, but Reader is fully consenting and willing. Mailman Joel is a sleaze, consider youself duly warned.

Word Count: 4.3K (by far the longest thing I've ever written, whew)

Summary: Every morning at 9am sharp, you take your coffee to the front room and listen for his mail truck.

Notes: Poking my nose out of my hiatus hidey-hole to write this as a gift for my very very dear friend @magpiepills for the prompt "Stole your mail and uses it to sexually blackmail you mailman Joel". I love you, my sweet Bat. 💜 Giant thanks to @for-a-longlongtime for the last-minute rapid beta read. Much love to my sluts for cheerleading: @youandmeand5bucks @exquisiteserotonin @arcanefox207 @sparklefarts38 @redhotkitchen I have never written Joel before, so please be kind. Thank you and enjoy.

Please, Mr Postman - Joel Miller x f!reader

Every morning at 9am sharp, you take your coffee to the front room and listen for his mail truck. The squeak of the rusted brake pads as he parks at the end of the block is a melody, as distinctive to you now as the chimes of the classic ice cream trucks from your childhood, eliciting a Pavlovian response of salivating over the treats it held within.

Life was easy and carefree at that age. You didn't have responsibilities, grown-up worries, or this present burden of being a Stepford wife to a rich man who occasionally did some illegal activities. He was kind to you and you loved him, desired him even, but despite being a criminal he was boring. He was not the adventurous, filthy man in bed you secretly hoped for. But you knew things about his work that made it dangerous to leave, and financially he made sure you were kept comfortable enough to not want to tell. So you stayed. And here you were, marooned in a leafy suburb, stuck at home all day and fantasizing about the hot new mailman. What a cliche you've become.

The mailman's name was Joel. And he really did command attention.

Salt and pepper hair that curled around the edge of his blue cap. Dark brown eyes that showed a few flecks of amber the rare times you've seen them up close. A strong nose with a neatly trimmed mustache and gorgeous facial scruff. Large hands that could football-hold an entire package in each.

And speaking of packages: his looked prodigious. It looked obscene what he was carrying around in those standard issue United States Postal Service shorts. You dreamed about it at night -- how thick his cock must be and how you'd lick it like those sweet summer popsicle treats -- as your husband snored beside you after giving you one pitiful orgasm and then immediately coming himself and falling asleep.

You never thought anyone could be attractive in such a dumpy grey uniform, but somehow Joel found a way.

In the summer heat he always rolled up the edges of his pleated shorts, a thick pocket chain clacking along his meaty thigh. Light hair dusted his tanned legs. His black leather belt was cinched tight, further emphasizing his delicious bulge. The sleeves of his polo shirt were similarly rolled and showed off well-toned forearms from all the lifting and carrying. In short: he was a dream.

But you'd never go further than look. You loved your husband, for all his faults. You'd even placed a big order of sex toys last week in the hopes he'd be willing to spice things up in the bedroom. The tracking app says it's out for delivery, and right on cue, Joel comes walking up your driveway cradling a large cardboard box in his hands. Damn, he looks good today.

"Mornin', ma'am," he drawls politely. You think he winks at you, or maybe it's just the sun hitting his eyes. "Got a big one for you today."

You move to take it, but he shakes his head. "It's heavy. Let me put it inside for ya."

The thought of him being inside your home makes you tingle. You don't even think to consider that postal workers aren't supposed to go past a customer's front step.

You hold the door open and Joel stomps through, leaving bootprints of dirt on your "Home Sweet Home" welcome mat.

"Ma'am? Where d'ya want it?" He sounds amused, and you realize with a start that he's been standing in your entranceway for an awkward length of time. You'd been too busy ogling his legs, and more, in those rolled-up shorts. Was it your imagination, or was he not wearing underwear?

"On the coffee table, please." You lead him to the sitting room beside the entranceway. It's your happy place, your sanctuary, the spot you have your morning coffee in as you listen for the siren song of his mail truck.

Joel gently places the box on the coffee table and turns to you.

"I'll just wait here while you check that everythin's in order."

"What… what do you mean?" You feel your cheeks heat. Fortunately the box was nondescript, but it did give off a brown paper wrapping porn vibe.

"It's insured for $700. Must be some expensive stuff. 'S my job to write a report if anything's broken."

Nervous sweat starts beading down your back. "It… it's okay… I can report online if there's a problem…"

"'S no trouble. Let's just take a quick peek." Joel's already pulled his keychain ceramic boxknife out of his shorts, slitting the box open before you can say a word.

You stand there mortified and unable to speak as Joel opens the flaps, pushes aside the cushioning packets, and stares at the huge assortment of boxed sex toys.

"Well, well, darlin'. What do we have here?" His voice is a mixture of amusement and something deep and growling. Predatory.

Your face burns in embarrassment. "You… you can go now," you manage to squeak. "Please."

"Don't think so, sweetheart. Gotta check that everythin's in good working order." His boxknife shicks open the first product, a G-spot vibe from the looks of the box. Just before he can unwrap it, you find your voice. You hope you sound self-assured and assertive.

"That's enough. Please leave. My husband will be home any minute."

Joel smirks as he continues to rifle through the box. "Naw. He won't. Just did my route on Pine Street and saw him gettin' busy with that blonde divorcee in the cul-de-sac. Miz Perkins, wasn't it? Big tits."

It's a gut punch, and it makes you forget that this suddenly skeezy mailman is in your home and looking at your new collection of sex toys. An affair? He wouldn't. Not YOUR husband. Not your husband who rarely wants to do anything interesting in bed…

"Sorry, darlin." Joel pulls you out of your thoughts. "Fuck that guy. Wanna have some fun?" He pulls the vibe out of the box and waves it in front of you with a lopsided smirk.

This is too much to deal with. Your head is spinning, a mixture of emotions running through you. Including lust, incredibly enough. This mailman appears to be the take-charge dominant you wish your husband was.

"No. Like I said, you can leave now." You manage to say it firmer this time despite the gushing between your thighs. "Just go."

"Think I'll stay," he says, crossing the space between you in one step and pushing you backwards onto the sofa. "Don't want me reporting your ol' man to the authorities, now do ya?"

"Wha… what?"

He chuckles at your comically large-eyed look of shock. "Yeah, know all about it. Been readin' yer mail," he says matter-of-factly. "He's shit at covering his tracks. Who sends fake invoices through the mail? With his real address too. Amazin' he hasn't been caught yet."

"You've been reading our mail?! I should report you!" Who is this guy?

Joel looms menacingly over your prone figure. You didn't dare move. "Sure, darlin. Postal employees got a responsibility to report crime. I'll be fine," he smiles, leaning back a little, but not enough for you to escape. "But the Postmaster General don't take too kindly to mail fraud, or those aidin' and abettin'. That's a felony."

"But it's not a felony for a mailman to read people's mail?"

"Tell you what," he drawls, still in that matter-of-fact tone that should be so very wrong in this situation. He rifles through the box and pulls out a hot pink butt plug, wiggling it at you. "You're gonna let me try out some of these toys on ya, and I won't report him."

Blackmail shouldn't turn you on, shouldn't turn anyone on, but it does. You're only human, and besides, you definitely don't want to go to prison. You can't control your reaction as your upper half shrinks back into the sofa while your lower half stretches out towards Joel, the hem of your sundress hiking up like it has a mind of its own. He gives you a wolfish grin and rests a broad, heavy hand on your knee.

"Jus' what I thought, sweetheart. Seen you watchin' me out the window every mornin'. You been wantin' me to stuff your pretty little mailslot, haven't ya?"

A whimper escapes your throat. "Yes. Please," you whisper, thighs sticky between your panties and suddenly aching.

"Okay, honey. Gonna start easy with this lil' thing." He holds up a clit sucker, shaped like a penguin with a little pink bow around its neck, and switches it on to test it. It springs into life immediately. "Ah, great. Love how companies pre-charge things now-a-days."

How can he be so conversational about this? Does he blackmail all the married women in the neighbourhood? Well, maybe just the ones who have something to hide. Like you. You silently thank the heavens for sending you an attractive skeeze, at least. And Joel is so very, very attractive.

You spread your legs for him.

He ruches your sundress up your thighs and whistles appreciatively, the sound going straight to your core. "No panties? And gushin' out of that tight little snatch already? Didn't take ya for such a filthy girl."

"It's… it's hot out," you stammer, unable to think straight.

"About to get hotter," he smirks again, and damn that attitude is doing things for you. "You ready, sweetheart?"

You nod, and he keeps eye contact as he nestles your clit into the little penguin's mouth and switches it on.

Your back arches and you nearly scream out loud.

The sensation is warm, and there's no direct contact but it's like your clit is being gently suckled. You've never felt anything like it. It's only been three seconds and your hips are already squirming to chase more.

His hand presses lightly on your hip to give you something to brace against as he clicks the intensity button up a couple notches, and it's like waves upon waves of the absolute perfect pressure on your clit. The buildup in your core is so fast that you don't even realize you're coming until it's almost over. You also hadn't noticed that you'd grabbed his muscled forearm and sunk your nails into it, leaving little half-moon indentations in his tanned skin.

"That was… wow." Your gasps echo around the quiet sitting room. Joel doesn't say a word, just reverently watches your pussy pulse and gush out a few drops of slick. "Thanks." You wish it had lasted longer and were sad it was over. Oh well, a nice memory for the next time you think about Joel, or try out some of these toys with your husband.

You start to push your sundress down, assuming he'll leave now and half-grateful for it, but he grabs your shoulder and forces you back down into the pillows.

"Where you off to? I'm just gettin' started with you, darlin'."

"But…."

"But nothin'. Ain't done till I say so."

All you can do is stare at him, unsure if you should be angry, turned on, or plotting an escape.

He undoes his leather belt and slowly, threateningly, slides it out through the loops on his uniform shorts. "Don't make me use this, sweetheart. Gonna be a good girl for me now, ain't ya?" The depth and tone of his voice say he isn't joking.

You gulp, still tingly from your rapid orgasm. And ready for another one, you think as you make eye contact with Joel, feeling a bit bolder now. We're here, I let him do that much already, might as well go for it.…

The penguin gets discarded as Joel carelessly tosses it to the carpet and takes the hot pink butt plug out of the box again, running a finger along the curve of its long but slim length. "Hmmm. Pretty. This for you, or your husband?"

"Uh… me…"

"Ah, ah" he tuts. "You really are a nasty girl. You take one of these before?"

You shake your head, suddenly shy. You hadn't even wanted your husband to know about the butt plug, thinking he was so sexless that he'd be disgusted. Apparently not, if he's railing Ms Perkins with the big tits over on Pine Street.

"S'okay. Gonna slide it in real good for ya." While you shove a little sofa pillow under your hips, Joel combs through the box on the coffee table and pulls out a bottle of lube. He pops the cap and drizzles some over the plug, and you gulp again imagining it inside your ass. A faint scent of synthetic vanilla fills the air and for some reason it calms you, allowing you to relax your muscles as Joel slides the plug along your crack, rubbing and smearing the lube around your asshole.

"You like that?"

You do. You really do.

Your little moan spurs him on and he gently presses the generously lubed tip of the plug against your hole, just the teensiest bit. You look up at his face, that stupidly attractive face of a skeezy mailman who is sexually blackmailing you, and find yourself desperately wanting to feel his scruff on your inner thighs.

Apparently he's a mind reader, too. He smiles and lowers his head to your crotch, and licks your clit with his wide tongue at the same moment he presses a bit more of the plug into your ass. You nearly scream for the second time in minutes.

"That's it, honey," he breathes against your core, wiggling the tip of the plug in and out and hitting nerves you didn't even know existed back there, making your hips jump involuntarily. "Openin' up so nice for me."

A few more mind-numbing, distracting licks of your clit and the plug slides all the way in with a little pop. You're equal parts turned on and proud.

"Well, ain't that a pretty sight," Joel whistles appreciatively. He pulls up to sit back and just stares at you all spread out on the sofa with one leg hiked over the back, your sundress balled up over your stomach. He taps the pink flared base of the plug a few times like he's idly flicking away a cigarette. It wiggles inside you and you squirm and squeal. Actually squeal. You're still mad and weirded out and other things, but you're feeling too good to give up now and you're starting to not care how easily you're caving to this man.

"Lessee what other treats we got in here." He rifles through the box again. His face falls into a comical droop of sadness and he sighs loudly, holding up a little box marked 'Girth Extender Sleeve'.

"Oh, sweetheart. I'm so sorry." The condescension in his voice shouldn't turn you on this much. "Yer old man got a tiny dick? Not fuckin' you proper? No wonder you been starin' at me every day, desperate for a real man."

Before you can protest -- he's not tiny, I just wanted to spice things up, well okay maybe he could use a bit of help -- he unzips his uniform shorts and pulls out his hard cock, holding it at the base so you can take a good look. "Got a special delivery for ya, baby."

Yeah, Joel definitely doesn't need any artificial enhancement.

His cock is thick. Not super long, but probably one of the thickest you've seen, outside the few porn films you watched when you were younger and more uninhibited. There's foreskin covering what looks like a large mushroom head, and a prominent pulsing vein running up one side. It all looks delicious, and you unconsciously lick your lips as he smirks at how you take it all in.

"You want it real bad, dontcha?" He fists himself a few times, his foreskin sliding on the downstroke to give you a peek at the thick head. "Yeah, you sure do. Never knew I had such a little slut livin' on my route."

Shuffling forward, he grabs your thighs and spreads them wider. The head of his cock feels impossibly heavy as he slaps it on your clit, making you gush a little with every hit.

"Joel, will you… can you lick me again for a bit?" Your squeaky voice is impossibly needy and pathetic.

"Naw," he says, flicking the base of the butt plug again and making your hips jump. The plug was so comfortable that you'd already forgotten it was in there. "Gotta finish my route. Can't talk to customers with my face smellin' of pussy, ya know. I'm representin' the United States Postal Service out there."

"Oh, does the USPS regularly fuck its customers too?"

"Sure does, darlin'. Bends 'em over and gives it to 'em hard with the price hikes every year."

He roughly pulls you up and bends you over the sofa arm, positioning you like the personal little fuckdoll you are for him.

"Got the next best thing though." He slips on a tiny purple fingertip vibe, your free gift from the toy company for such a large order. With such thick fingers, it looks like he's wearing an upside-down Ring Pop. It gives a loud rumble when he switches it on, and he laughs as he tugs his shorts down over his thighs. "Cheap ass shit. Hope the battery lasts. But it don't take you long anyway, right sweetheart?" He reaches around your hips, lifts your sundress and presses the vibe straight on your bare clit without any preamble, and your hips slam backwards into his crotch as you scream again, his cock jostling the base of the butt plug and sending shockwaves both up and down your core at the same time.

"Yeah. Thought so."

Amid the mixed sensations suddenly comes a new one: the thick head of his cock slipping into your cunt as he swirls the vibe around your clit, not letting it rest in any one spot long enough for your liking.

"… Wait! No condom?"

"Naw. You're on the pill, right?" He doesn't wait for your answer, as if he already knows.

Normally you don't enjoy this position but you're too far gone now, pushing your hips back and encouraging him deeper in, more than wet enough from all the playing to take him in.

"Greedy little slut, ain't ya?" He feeds you another inch, pauses, then another, torturously slow as you stretch around his thickness. "Tight little snatch feels so good. Miz Perkins with the big tits probably don't feel this sweet." Joel demeaning your husband like this and throwing the adultery in your face should make you mad -- at both of them -- but it only turns you on more, beads of sweat dripping down your spine as he slides all the way in to the hilt, giving you a few moments of grace to adjust to the size of him.

One strap falls down your shoulder, letting your tit pop out of your sundress and he palms it roughly, giving it an exploratory squeeze. The finger vibe is still buzzing and he swipes it across your nipple, the nubby texture chafing just before the point of pain. "Nice. You like that? Let's add somethin'."

Mentholated 'arousal balm' was another of your free gifts, and not something you'd ever thought to try. Joel twists open the little tin and dips the finger vibe in it.

"That smells strong, do we have to?" Wooziness hits you as the peppermint smell goes straight up your nostrils.

"Like I said, baby, gotta make sure everythin' works. Else I gotta do a return," chides Joel, tossing the tiny tin on the floor. You watch it roll under the baseboard heater as he grabs your hips roughly and repositions you. "Real fucking pain, returns. Lotsa paperwork."

He brings the now-mentholated finger vibe back to your clit, and two seconds later it feels like your entire pussy is on fire.

Thank goodness he didn't put any on my a--

Joel moves the base of the butt plug aside and presses the finger vibe against your asshole.

The menthol soaks into your tender membranes and it's so, so cold and hot at the same time. Your brain melts along with it.

Everything is lit up now and you squirm as he slides his hardness back into your pussy and gives a few experimental thrusts. "Tight fuckin' snatch," he mutters, your walls clenching around him in time with his finger flicking at the plug, your entire lower half burning but not in a terrible way. "But could be tighter." He suddenly pulls his cock out and you whine, loudly and needily.

"Please, Joel."

"Please what, darlin'?"

"Put… put it back in? Please."

"All in good time. Gotta give those walls an extra little stamp."

You look over your shoulder to see him drizzling lube into the girth sleeve and slipping it onto his cock. He's already so thick that it's a tight fit, the soft tube slipping off a couple times before he finally stretches it enough so it can slide all the way on, pulling it down so his large head pokes out of the top. You clench involuntarily.

"Umm. That's not gonna fit."

"Sure it will, honey," he drawls. "Didn't think you could take that pretty little pink plug, right? And look at ya now."

He's got a point.

"Gonna stuff that little slot full to the brim and turn ya into a size queen. Open wide, baby."

He's merciless as he slides back inside, at a curved angle since you're turned slightly to brace both your hands against the back of the sofa. The extender is smooth and feels just like his skin, and you're powerless to resist the incredible feeling of the extra width. He was exactly right: you felt full. With the thick pressure in your cunt pushing against the plug in your ass, you felt more stuffed than you ever had in your life, and what's more your pussy is still burning from the menthol balm. It was overwhelming but also glorious. In that second you knew it would be impossible not to think of Joel next time your husband fucked you, even if he wore this toy. Stupid sexy blackmailing mailman.

Baby animals had more stability in their legs than you do right now, your thighs spasming uncontrollably as Joel palms the vibe around your clit while holding almost half your waist in the span of his other large paw. He fucks into you hard from behind until you're so close to coming you can taste it. With the extender, his cock is hitting spots inside you that you didn't even know you had. A heavy chain pops out of the neck of his polo shirt and hits your nape with a loud clank as he slams into you from behind, the cheap poly-rayon blend of his polo shirt chafing your shoulders in a delicious burn as his chest presses close against your back and his hips smack against your ass, jostling the butt plug with every thrust.

whirrrrrr goes the finger vibe as the tiny cheap battery dies, and he slaps your clit hard with the vibe one, two, three times and you come, yelling for the nth time since he left his bootprints on your welcome mat that morning. His grunts are loud and lewd as he fucks you through it, easing up only to make his thrusts shallower so he can reach a hand between you and gently pull out the butt plug with a little 'pop'. He tosses it and the finger vibe onto your pristine off-white carpet, not even bothering to aim for the opened box on the coffee table.

"So fuckin' tight," he wheezes hoarsely, "I gotta extra big load for ya," and he presses his hips so hard against your ass that you almost fall over the sofa arm, his voice faltering as he groans and you feel hot spurts of his come coating the inside of your pussy, as deep as he can put it.

You slump forward onto the sofa and he pulls out, both of you heaving. The fiery balm has mellowed to a gentle tingle and your core is pleasantly warm. Stretched out. Fucked out.

"Welp, gotta get back to my route." It's been only a minute and his matter-of-fact conversational tone has already returned. You peer over your shoulder and watch him pull his shorts back on, rolling up the hems and slicking his belt back into the loops, tucking his polo shirt back in with practiced efficiency.

"Will I see you again?" You hate how pathetic you sound, and you must be a real sight too, half naked with a sweaty rolled-up sundress stuck to your back, your ass still up in the air like you're waiting for him to stick it right back in and rail you again immediately.

"Oh, I'm sure we'll be seein' each other again real soon," he says smoothly.

As you stand up, knees a little weak, a drop of cum drips down your thighs. "Glad I'm on the pill," you mutter to yourself as you pat down your wrinkled sundress and pause at the mess of packaging and boxes littering your sitting room.

"About that, darlin'." Joel smiles, pausing by your front door. "Miz Perkins over on Pine Street orders sugar pills and well, you know, packages get mixed up sometimes on the route. Might wanna check you got the right pills."

Joel slams the door and the mail slot squeaks rhythmically as you stand there, horrified, listening to him whistle a jaunty tune as he walks down your driveway and back to his mail route.

[echoofadream]

Your favorite patient...

Part 2

Summary: you are a hardworking doctor who has been stalked by a patient. Now it's time he gets punished for his obsessive behavior.

Contains: sub!male!yandere, really mean dom!reader(gender not specified), degradation, dacryphilia(kinda), lots of begging, praise(if you squint)

A whimper escapes his lips when he sees the huge grin on your face. As you crouch in front of him, he loses his balance and falls on his ass on the floor. You laugh at him, a mix of shame and arousal filling his body to the brim.

"Pleaseee..." he whines again. At how vocal he was, with his little sounds and pleas you were surprised you'd never heard him jerking off under your bed while he listened to you.

He was almost laying on his back, his legs spread wide in front of you, holding his weight on his elbows. Your gaze falls to the bulge in his pants, a small stain right at the end of his clothed dick. As he feels your eyes on him his hips involuntarily thrust upwards. Your hand goes in front of your face, your fingers rubbing your eyes as you tried your best not to burst out of laughter.

"Mhm... what's so funny, doctor?" he whimpers.

"It's funny how I've always wanted a whore like you, yet you've been here all the time, I just had no idea" You feel the smirk on your face get wider when he moans slightly at your insult. "Get on the couch" you say, your voice not as demanding as it should've been, you find out later.

"Are you going to fuck me?" he asks, his face lighting up.

"Get on the fucking couch!"

He falls silent and gets up as fast as he can, almost tripping over on his way to the couch. He takes a seat there, straightening his back and keeping his hands on his thighs. He was trying his hardest not to let out any more sounds, but it was so hard! The way you were approaching him slowly, tantalizingly slowly. How your body was moving, how those clothes were fitting you so perfectly. He started fidgeting, cracking his fingers like he was trying to break them.

"Pleaseee..." he whines again.

You frown and raise your voice at the man in front of you. "If you don't keep quiet I'll gag you! Is that what you want?"

Fear creeps onto his face and he shakes his head rapidly. "No, no, no, no. Don't gag me! Don't gag me please! I wanna tell you how much I love you, doctor! I wanna talk to you! I wanna- mhm... wanna-"

Your hand was on his cheek, thumb brushing against his lower lip, the small gesture shutting him down. His breath was caught in his throat and when he relaxed under your touch, when he let out that relieved sigh, the room was filled with a pained scream.

"Ahh..." He was breathing rapidly after the slap you just gave him, its pain lingering on his skin which was turning redder by the second.

"Have you forgotten that this is supposed to be a punishment, you freak?" you ask him, both anger and mockery detectable in your voice.

He looked at you with big teary eyes, a smile forming on his lips. "Harder..." He moans, lifting his hands and trying to grab yours, but stopping himself mid-air, remembering he had to be obedient. If this went well he'd be your slave! That thought alone almost made him cum in his pants.

You raise a brow, your face darkening. "Did you just tell me what to do?"

He gulped. "Uhm...uh...I..." he started stuttering, trying to find the right words.

"A punishment is supposed to hurt but it seems like you're enjoying yourself so far, aren't you?" you ask. He stays silent. The truth was, he was desperate to feel that pain from your slap again. He wanted it, no...he needed it. He felt like he was gonna die if you didn't touch him any sooner. You start talking again, not paying attention to the way he was pacing back and forth, fidgeting in his seat, soft sounds escaping his red lips, abused by his teeth every time he tried not to jump on you and hump your leg until he came.

"You want me to touch you, don't you? You want me to fuck you?" you ask, smirking.

He nodded eagerly. "Yes...yes, please...pretty please, doctor....please, please, please-"

"Shut the fuck up, you slut!" you snap at him.

He whimpers just like a dog who's been yelled at by his beloved owner and his head lowers.

"You're sick. Disgustingly pathetic and utterly insane. I could do whatever i want to you, but my options are limited if I truly wanna torture you" You start pacing around the room, thinking of means to make him regret being a repulsive stalker and a crazy manwhore. He just stays there, already in pain, struggling not to simply take one of the pillows on the sofa and hump it like a bitch in heat. God, he would've loved it if you just touched him. Why weren't you touching him? Couldn't you see how much he needed it? Couldn't you see how much he loved you? Lost in thought, he didn't even realize when you appeared in front of him. He lifts his gaze and tries to look you straight in the eyes. You only gave him a serious and emotionless glare.

"Take your pants off" you demand.

You didn't need to tell him twice. He practically jumps off the couch and starts undressing, taking his pants off along with his boxers and revealing his hard cock. Fat tip leaking precum like a running faucet, pulsing veins along his neglected shaft. His legs were hairless, as well as his balls, no hair present on his lower body. You saw some thick scars running along his pale thighs, a reminder of the accident which led to him meeting you. They didn't make him any less attractive. You still had to use all the self-control you had in you not to fuck him dumb right then and there.

You whistle at the sight and his cheeks get redder, a content expression on his face.

"Am I pretty, doctor? Am I pretty for you?" he asks, eager for an answer. Maybe if he'd been a good boy he would have gotten praised for his appealing appearance, but you had other plans for him today.

You chuckle. "You? Not in the slightest. You're pathetic. Your hair is a mess and what's inside that brain of yours is even messier. Your legs are so thin it's a miracle they haven't broken yet just from holding your useless existence every single day. No, don't take off your shirt. I don't wanna puke"

"Ahh...ngh-ah..." He bends forward, both hands grabbing at his crotch as he feels his knees getting weak. He whimpers and trembles as you watch him, your own arousal growing. But you couldn't give in and take him. You were too competitive to do that. You couldn't possibly let him stalk you for weeks then give him exactly what he wants. No. He had to be punished.

He straightens his back, panting as though he just ran the marathon. He shows you his palms, full of the cum he's been holding back for so fucking long. His eyes light up he looks at you, a big smile on his lips.

"Thank you, doctor! Mhm...thank you....you're so good to me...I love y-"

Your palm against his cheek shuts him up this time as well. He could feel tears starting to form in the corners of his eyes. He lifts his head again, trying to hold back his sobs.

"Please, doctor...please"

"Shut up" you command, but he doesn't stop. Tears start running down his red cheeks, only adding to the painful burning sensation.

"Doctor, please...!" He starts tugging at your shirt, desperation visible in his dilated pupils.

"Keep your mouth shut, you slut!"

"I'm a slut!" he says. "I'm your slut, yours, yours only! Ngh-....mhm pleaseee, please I'm sorry. I'm disgusting and pathetic and I deserve it but I just wanna...wanna...mhm..." He grabs your wrist, placing your hand on his reddened cock, shamelessly. You yank your hand away.

"Ew... disgusting! I don't wanna get whatever you have. I don't wanna become a pathetic whore like you" Your disgusted expression was only adding to the pain he was already experiencing, both physical and emotional. He started sobbing, his eyes filling with tears and blurring his vision.

"I d-don't have...'m not sick...doctor, I'm not sick, please" He kept sobbing as you watched him with a pleased smirk across your face. "Please...I know I'm a whore but...mhm please..." He kept begging, his words getting less and less coherent. " 'm sorry, doctor...'m so sorry for being so naughty....I shouldn't have...ngh... shouldn't...forgive....please... forgiveness... doctor...hurts...'m sorry"

He stopped speaking and just straight up started sobbing, fat tears running down his flushed cheeks. He was desperate, so needy, so perfect. The more you were pushing him over the edge, the more you were starting to feel as though you were growing as obsessed with him as he was with you.

Your hand makes its way to his cock and your fingers wrap around him, earning a moan from the man. He kept crying, still too weak to form words and you could've sworn he was too weak to even think of them, let alone speak them. His knees get weak so your left hand goes under his ass to support him and make sure he keeps standing. His hands grab onto your shoulders instinctively.

More and more lewd sounds kept filling the room as you stroked him. You were aching to tease him, to edge him, to make him beg for his release, but you weren't that cruel. You press your lips on his forehead while your hand twisted around his shaft, stroking up and down faster every time when he would start thrusting his hips, unable to tell you to go faster since his mind was completely blank.

" 'm gon- ...ahh ngh-ahh...doctor...gon-"

Could he get any more perfect? Asking for permission to cum even when he was fucked stupid? You were keeping him. A hundred percent. You weren't letting this man go under any circumstances.

"Cum for me, pretty boy. Come on, let it all out for me. That's it. Atta boy!"

"Ahh...f-ahh...ngh...f-fuck..."

He gave you everything he had, his cum covering your hand and even sliding down his thighs, ending up on the carpet. He grabbed your hand rapidly, your eyes getting wide at how he started licking his cum off your fingers with sloppy and desperate tongue movements. He falls to his knees with a thud after swallowing everything, panting and gasping for air.

You stayed there and watched him. You were at a loss for words, completely and utterly. Your eyes were wide and mouth slightly agape, shocked at his actions. He lifted his head and gave you a loving smile, his lips still covered in his arousal.

"Thank you..."

Thank you for reading this! I hope you enjoyed it! I'm kind of thinking about making this a series so please tell me your thoughts about that. Have a great day!❤️

[hotpinkstars]

ESPRESSO - aventurine x reader

- "now he's thinkin' bout me, everynight, oh, is it that sweet? i guess so." or, how does aventurine do when he's in love?

- GUYS GUYS QUEEN SABRINA DROPPED A SINGLE i've been listening to this for days and i needed to write about it sooooooooooo yeah! anyways i'll get to writing probably a few requests tomorrow and wednesday (expect 4-5 posts between those days to make up for my absence) and yeahhhhhh enjoy!!

- aventurine might be a little ooc, mentions of his trauma (so penacony main quest spoilers), reader confesses at the end. wc 1067

Aventurine doesn’t know what to do when he first figures out that the feeling in his chest whenever he saw you was because he liked you. He probably tried to deny it, until Topaz caught him blushing like crazy after you walked away from the conversation you two had just finished. (Even then, she had to tell him, and then he spent a long time thinking that possibility through. She might have been right). 

You plague his visions. Why does he always want something to do with you? Why does he always want to be in your space, but also never wants to see you again? You’ve noticed his weird behavior, considering you were one of the first people he’s ever genuinely called a friend, but didn’t really think too far into it. 

Though, it didn’t stop you from paying more attention to it, that's for a fact. Sometimes you’d pay more attention to his body movements around you, the way he speaks, his etiquette, etc. You and Topaz communicate through it, and it’s a little bit different from his conversations with her. 

You know he can be cocky. Like, very cocky. You know he’s not too afraid to talk back, to challenge someone to a gamble (spoiler he wins), and to be reckless. Though, you also know about his backstory. So you can kind of understand where he’s coming from. 

He’s been pretty open with you about all of the things he’s endured. You know his real name, he’s described how his family has looked, and he’s described his years he endured slavery and what his home planet was like. You know about the Men in Black and the Katicans. And you know how traumatized he is.

Now, you’ve known him for a long, long time before this. You welcomed him into the IPC when Jade first announced his arrival, and you kind of showed him the ropes. He thought you seemed kind, so he stayed in contact with you.

You’ve watched him change, all of his progress through life, the hard times and the good times, and so much more. And that's what gets him the most, he thinks. 

He never realized how much he trusted you until he realized he liked you. You know every single thing about this man, which was the reason why he was rather… nervous when he��d have to communicate with you face to face. He did a good job at keeping up his front he uses to talk to people, but you sensed a slight form of stress underneath all the layers he put up to look tough. 

He lays awake, thinking about you. You’ve made part of his mind your home, and it’s the part he comes back to over and over again. You replay in his mind like a good song that he can’t get enough of- on, and on, and on, and on. 

He does like to bring you little trinkets he finds pretty when he goes out in public to do some shopping. Considering how wealthy he is, he could probably afford to buy out the whole store, so if you even mention something you like to him, he’s on his way to find it for you. He likes to think of it as he’s buying your kindness, but you think something completely different. You enjoy his sudden gift giving, not just because of your gain, but because he thought about you enough to do such a thing. It always makes you slightly blush before laughing while opening the box presented in front of you. He thinks that's the most precious part about your time spent together; all of the opportunities he gets to listen to your gorgeous laughter and see your flawless smile. Topaz, pinch the man, he’s in his own personal dreampool.

Oh, how bad he wants to confess to you, but he’s really afraid of rejection. He fears losing you entirely, fears that you won’t look at him like you always do if he asked if you two could be a thing. He fears you’d think he was odd for wanting you to himself, and that you’d slowly back away until you refuse to even look at his broken, battered form any longer. The thought makes a shiver crawl up his back. He can’t lose you too. 

All this man asks is to find a way to remove you from his head. You’re absolutely tormenting him! Notice how he’s been lacking on his work lately, always caught in a daze when he’s sitting down at his desk? That’s you he’s daydreaming about. He’s no good with his emotions. He knows how to hide sadness, fear, and anger, but he’s never been in this boat before. Love is a whole new concept to him. 

“Aventurine, you’ve been out of it lately. Tell me, is something the matter?” You barge through the blonde's office, not even bothering to knock. You know you don’t have to, he’s never doing anything so significant in that tiny space that it needs to be kept private.

“What are you saying? Nothings up with me,” he drops his pen in the small plaster pen cup you bought for him. “Work has been tiring lately. Nothing to stress over.” 

You plop into the chair in front of his desk, resting your arms on the top and putting your head in between your palms.

“I can tell when you lie. Tell the truth.”

He looks away. What was he supposed to say? That he couldn’t get you out of his brain, and that you’re the only thing he can focus on? That’ll scare you off for sure!

“Aventurine?? You there?” you wave a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his daze once more. “You know, you don’t have to lie. I already know what you’re thinking.”

His eyes slightly widen, just enough for you to notice. You giggle very lightly before continuing on with your sentence. “You have a little crush, don’t you? Don’t worry, I like you back. Seriously, I do.”

He doesn’t know how to reply to that. He doesn’t know if he wants to faint or make out with you right now. “So that makes us…?”

“I don’t know. We could remain friends, we could be boyfriend girlfriend, whatever you want. I don’t care.”

Well, he believes he already knows the answer he’s choosing.

[velvetures]

Doesn't Crease

A/N: Thanks to everyone supporting this new blog I've started working on. I'm really happy to see so many new people and get the chance to write some more. <3 Summary: You're just trying to keep Ghost from losing his eyesight from being purposefully ignorant. T/W: none :)

Looking out for the guys of the 141 typically meant doing things for them that most regular people wouldn’t even think twice about doing on a normal day. They often took care of weapons and missions far better than themselves, and it often resulted in you finding out that they appropriated objects or products for uses that had not a damn thing to do with what they used them for. And the most frustrating of all of them came from how you came to learn about Ghost’s eye paint, and how it stayed on so well for days on end.

You’d been in the Middle East for nearing five days and after being holed up in a cave just on the outskirts of a little town, a safe house was cleared for your use until the end of the mission. It was so damn good to have a shower and put on some clean clothes that you couldn’t have been in better spirits as you walked out of the bathroom into the living area and noticed Ghost sitting in a change of clothes and a much less dirty mask with his face half-painted in that unidentified stuff he used. You watched with an admitted interest as he dipped a couple fingers into a small plastic container that held the substance before smearing more over the bridge of his nose towards the uncovered left side of his face.

“Quit starin’.” he muttered lowly, still very focused on the task at hand and getting the stuff smeared over his eyelid and up to the waterline of his eye.

You didn’t particularly care to listen and just sat down across from him and pulled your bare feet up into the chair and watched just as raptly. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him do this for sure, yet every time filled you with a sense of… excitement. Like you were watching the man under the mask slowly transform himself into The Ghost right in front of you. Certainly a childish kind of thrill, yet you never missed the chance to watch Ghost do anything, really. Curiosity always got the better of you when it came to the mysterious Lieutenant, and that black stuff he smeared on his face wasn’t exempt from your silent questioning.

“Will you leave me the fuck alone?” He growled, steely eyes darting right to you with a harsh edge to his posture.

Ghost always had a prickly attitude about everything, good or bad. Fuck, you could tell him that he’d won a million dollars and he’s just grumble about how paying taxes on it would be a bitch. Never seeing any bright side of a situation. But that also didn’t come as much of a shock. The Lieutenant always put you in mind of this black shadow just floating around wherever he pleased or was needed for the time being.

You’d made jokes to Gaz and Soap about his sandpaper-like disposition and shitty attitude before, oftentimes enjoying a short moment before sleeping -without Ghost present of course- where you mimicked him for entertainment. It always got you a bunch of laughs considering the stark contrast between your own character and the Lieutenant’s. You didn’t mean anything negative by it, Ghost just made it too easy to poke quiet fun at him every so often.

“If you answer a question, I’ll leave.” You bargain quickly, already knowing exactly what you wanted to ask about. Ghost just growled in frustration, leaning his forearms on his massive thighs and looked pointedly at you, silently demanding you got on with your foolishness so that you could go off somewhere else and be a pain in the ass for someone else.

“What is that?” You nod to the small container holding his eye paint.

“I mean… the stuff you put on your face?” Unconsciously the question comes out of your mouth a tad bit nervously and hesitant. Not that you had the slightest fear of Ghost being upset with you in a dangerous way, but more so that you were prying into something that he felt was too personal to discuss. That kind of assumption wouldn’t have typically been far off with how private he liked to keep things.

Contrary to his typical behavior Ghost gave a small huff of something close to laughter. Apparently amused and puts the lid on the small jar to toss it across the room for you to get a better look at it. Unscrewing the lid of the small plastic travel-jar, you were met with a very familiar smell. And it wasn’t the kind of cosmetic fragrance you were expecting it come from it.

“Gun grease,” Ghost answered quite offhandedly, acting as if that wasn’t a totally ridiculous idea. Speechless and naively shocked, you look up at the Lieutenant with wide eyes and your mouth a little agape. The look on your face only amuses Ghost that much more and a little flash of it shows in his dark eyes.

“You put slide action lubricant on your face!?” You almost hiss the words out, disbelieving and in total awe of how Ghost hadn’t lost his eyesight, got chemical burns, or some other type of injury from doing something so unheard of.

Ghost shrugs noncommittally. “I prefer Hoppes. Theirs lasts the longest.” He said standing up and stretching his neck side to side.

“You have a fucking brand preference?” Your mouth really does drop open now.

“Brand and color.” He replies smugly, striding over towards you and grabbing the small container and opening it back up to dab more over his eyebrow which hadn’t been fully covered earlier.

“Hoppes…” You repeat the word, thinking for a moment. “You mean that kind that comes in the syringe?” The image of the component and how it hangs in a little package in the gun care and cleaning aisle at every store. you’ve ever been to.

“One and the same.”

Your eyes roll skyward and you can’t help but groan out. “Good god…”

For weeks after that conversation, your mind revisits the thought of Ghost using a ten-dollar tube of gun grease not only as weapon maintenance but also as a skincare product. Surely he’s not stupid enough to think that it’s not harmful to his skin right? He’s got to know that when it gets into his eyes it can cause damage? It comes to a breaking point when you go into a local drugstore for a prescription painkiller for a recent on-mission injury and notice an End Cap display showing a new line of gel eyeliners that have come out boasting 48hr smudge resistance and an almost instant, comfortable dry-down.

You stop dead in your tracks, almost totally forgetting about needing to pick up the week-supply of pills for yourself as you gather up every single one of them in the color black and shove them at the woman working behind the register. The look she gives you is one of masked concern, but you just hand over the cash for it and your prescription before heading back out to your car with a sense of hopefulness that your Lieutenant won’t lose his eyesight prematurely if you can help it.

The following day you’re to report in to HQ for a meeting with the team for a pre-op report review, and have the chance to give Ghost your… gift of sorts. You’re walking out of the meeting, purposefully walking beside of him instead of talking to Soap or asking Price some lingering questions you have so your opportunity doesn’t slip by you.

“Hey, uh do you have a minute?” You nudge his arm with your elbow, looking up at him out of the corner of your eye. Ghost’s eyebrows raise, and he silently gives a stiff nod, not caring to elaborate any further.

Instead of peeling off towards his office down the corridor to your left, he keeps following you silently until you get out to your vehicle parked outside. Although he doesn’t say anything about it, you can feel his questioning look burning into your back as you unlock the doors and reach into your passenger seat for a small black bag that rattles with the sound of thick glass knocking up against each other inside. Even when handing it to him, he’s reluctant to uncross his arms and accept the bag from you because he’s much more comfortable just staring at you coldly. No doubt expecting you to do what you’re best at and waste his time for something inconsequential.

“Here… I really don’t want you going blind anytime soon.” You give him a half smile, dropping the gift bag in his hand. With that, you give a small goodbye and go around to the other side of your vehicle, and drive off before the Lieutenant can open the bag or question you about what the fuck you’d just given him thirty small jars of.

Once home you go about getting some clothes washed for the upcoming mission and take some time to make a call to your neighbor to ask if she can look in on your home and plants while you’re away and pay the water and electric bill since you’ll be out of town when the bills will be mailed. You’re halfway through telling the older woman that you’ll go ahead and write a couple of checks that she can take to the bank with her own bills when you feel your phone vibrate against your ear.

Your elderly neighbor gives her happy acceptance of helping out and gets off the phone so she doesn’t miss her nightly show while you check the notification you’ve received. It’s from a number not saved, but it’s not spam text or one of those random kinds of messages you get when someone uses the wrong number. It’s short, sweet, and to the point. The verbiage and almost awkward tone give you all the information you need to know that the Lieutenant had not only opened his gift but asked someone for your private cell so that he could give his… thoughts.

-Dries down a lot quicker. I like that it doesn’t crease.-

Reblogs & Comments are Appreciated <3

[mysteriouswolf]

I'm going to start this off with saying it hurts. It fucking hurts. It hurts so, so much, and there's parts of me that still desperately want to look for a way out, to make him not the bad guy, but there isn't one.

Wilbur Soot is a fucking asshole. A piece of absolute trash, and it hurts. Because I've looked up to him for so many years now. He's been such an inspiration and comfort in my life, from dealing with issues I have myself, and giving me all the more reason to stay here. And now he's turned out to be like this. To anyone who's been following what I reblog about him, it's conflicting, because my thoughts seem to change by the minute. But I'm hoping in saying this I can clear my head and make a definite decision.

I will never be supporting Wilbur ever again. No matter how much better he gets, I don't care. What he did was unexcusable, and if you think otherwise, you can fuck off of my blog. His "apology" wasn't an apology, and for the most part all he did was defend himself. The responses from other content creators have pushed me to agree that yes, fuck Wilbur. He's an ass. I think I've stated this a couple times.

What he did to them, especially Niki and Tommy was inexcusable as well from what we know, and since Tommy is going on tour in about a week (if he's still going/up to it) PLEASE no one harass him with questions, or how he feels. Please, just leave him alone. I'm sure it's a lot to process for him too- even more than us.

I've seen some posts saying how we should be angry at other content creators for not speaking out sooner, but some of them have hinted at it/tried. And others haven't known enough, or didn't want to start causing something against him. The same reason Shelby didn't want to say his name. Maybe they couldn't. Please leave them alone.

The last thing I would like to say, is maybe controversial. If you disagree with me, I don't care, this is purely my opinion.

You can still enjoy his character. Your stories, your artwork, all that you've done with it. Don't feel bad about keeping it up, because that's yours now. You've worked so hard on it, and cared for that character so much that it's become far more yours than his. In regards to his music, I know his songs have provided a lot of us with comfort, including me. It's going to be really hard for me to stop listening to something I loved, but I'm going to make the effort- especially with his solo albums. Also, please don't harass the other members of Lovejoy. From what we know, they're lovely people, and if you're going to stop listening to them, great, do that, but don't harass them. Please. And if you do choose to listen to them, there's ways you can listen to music without supporting him- in my opinion covers are the best way to do that, but that one is up to you.

To wrap this up, I'd just like to say...please don't send death threats, or threats in general to anyone involved in this situation- including Wilbur. Leave them alone. Please.

This is subject to change if we get more information, but for now and the foreseeable future, this is my stance. I wish everyone hugs and comfort. This sucks. I'm sorry.

[chososdiscordkitten]

Obsessive!Choso♡ pt 5

pt 4 here

content: stalking (duhh) Choso goes home for Christmas, calls u nd texts u the whole time, brief mention of his brothers, mentions of readers lipstick n perfume, no use of y/n or pronouns, cursing (a.n) ahhhhh this one is one of my favorites. made me smile a lot. wrote this listening to 'Sextape- Deftones'

Taglist : @brokenscaredakira @adanfore @emojk777 @waytootiredforthisss @denypipa @broccocrab @sunaumei @morinuu @just-pure-trash @iluvreinah @integers @ziklope @killakungfu-wolfbitch @1arminsimp

Obsessive!Choso who actually enjoyed coming to class, now that you sit next to him. Enjoying it so much that he felt like his grades were somewhat getting better. Now that he actually had to show that he was writing down notes. Having to actually follow the presentations from the professor on his computer, knowing that you were sitting inches away from him. When you sat so far away- he didn't have to worry about taking notes, or even bother opening his computer- because you couldn't see him. ‘You are good for me. You make me want to better myself for you.’ he'd think, looking over at you writing on your computer. 

Obsessive!Choso who had anxiety that once this project was over- you'd run back to the same friends that will never make you smile the way he does. The people who peer pressured you into drinking and doing drugs- just because you wanted to fit in. ‘You'd never have to worry about that with me. I will never pressure you into doing something you don't want to do.’ 

Obsessive!Choso who was scared that once the excuse of being partners for this class was no longer usable. You'd leave him, you'd find someone else to entertain your afternoons, someone who will replace him. So scared that he’d grovel to the professor, asking for an extension. Telling you, “Somethings missing- I'll let you know once I've finished my part.” when you'd ask him if he was finished with it yet. Knowing he did that summary days ago, only having it on another doc so you wouldn't see that he finished it.

Obsessive!Choso who spent the last few classes he had left with you on the verge of tears. His heart was heavy in his chest, pocketing all the notes you had exchanged with him. Running out of space to put them, finding an old converse box and placing them inside. Using so much tape too quickly, trying his best to preserve the pieces of paper. Nights where he'd re-read them, feeling guilt for leaving you. 

Obsessive!Choso who felt like his brain was going to explode, the anxiety of turning in the assignment was too much. Knowing he would have to turn it in before winter break- right before he left you. ‘I want to trust you,’ he thought, your name in his mind as though he was speaking to you. ‘I really do. But it's not that I don't fully trust you. I don't trust the people you’ll be left with. The people without families- like you. Who will prey on you. Who will make you think they're just like you. But they're not, they're just trying to manipulate you-’ You scanned his face, knowing he was thinking of something else while you were talking. “You okay?” You asked, seeing him shake his thoughts away before answering, “Just thinking.” he replied, a pained smile on his face. “About?” You asked, wondering what he could be thinking that was so serious that his face looked almost agonized, while you spoke.

Obsessive!Choso who contemplated lying, but the need to tell the truth was far greater. “I keep thinking about you all alone here. Alone during Christmas.” He confessed, seeing you sigh. “I like being alone. I'll be okay, don't worry.” You assured, almost reaching for his hand to comfort him- but you knew that was too far, and definitely too soon. You didn't want to invade his personal space. Seeing him only return a forced smile to you, knowing he wasn't fully convinced of the idea from his silence. Seeing an opportunity to lift up the mood, you let out a laugh. “I'll call you everyday- Send you pictures every 5 minutes.” You joked, earning a smile from him. “So many pictures that you'll feel like you're still here.” you smiled, seeing him nod his head while smiling. 

Obsessive!Choso who wished you knew how badly he wanted you to actually do those things. Liking the way you tried to ease his worries. Pushing away the anxiety so he could relish the last few times he'd be able to see you. 

Obsessive!Choso who's following habit became worse. Now standing outside your house for what felt like hours. Watching the four walls that kept you from him in the cold wind, standing still when it rained. Even when it started snowing for the first time that season. ‘We’re together for the first snowfall. You know what that means right? True love will blossom between us.’ Seeing you through the curtainless window, watching you close a thin curtain- as though you felt him watching you. Now only letting him see your shadow. Smile on his face when you'd call him- your tone made it clear that you were grinning ear to ear the whole time, oblivious to the fact that he was just a few yards away from you. Seeing you pace in front of the window as he spoke to you. ‘I know you want me to make a move. But I’ll wait. I will wait till the moment you feel the same way I do.’ He'd think, listening to you speak. 

Obsessive!Choso who thanked whatever celestial being that was out there, for making the lights on the sidewalk go out. Watching your house without fear of someone seeing him. ‘For now-I will love you from a distance,’ he professed, a grin on his face when he thought of your name. ‘I will wait for you.’ 

Obsessive!Choso who turned in the assignment a day before he left. He was pushing it- but he did it for a reason. He did it for you, to make sure you wouldn't give up on him.

Obsessive!Choso who was about to leave- but he needed to see you, just one more time. Walking around campus trying to find you. Checking his phone seeing his plane was leaving in an hour and a half. Seeing you inside the campus cafe- book in your hand. Break had already started, the campus was almost empty, but seeing you doing what you told him you'd do. Catching up on the books you started, but never finished. ‘Even if you didn't know I was looking at you- you look effortless.’ he thought, walking towards the doors of the shop. 

Obsessive!Choso who opens the door and sees you look up at him. Smiling and mouthing a ‘hi’ at him. Walking to the small table you sat at. Not knowing what to say, shaking his head, seeing your face turn in confusion. He was just standing there- not pulling out the chair to sit. “I was- I was about to leave.” He smiled, pulling the chair across from you, rings clashing against the wooden back.

Obsessive!Choso who sat down and seemed fidgety, compared to the chivalric aura he usually kept. “And you decided you needed one last shitty coffee before leaving. Smart.” You smiled, joking in hopes he'd loosen up a little. “No-” he smiled, softening his expression. Seeing you place your book down, making sure to remember the title. He wanted to say a million things, tell you how he needed to see you. He needed to say goodbye. As though he was your friend of 10 years leaving to fight in a war, feeling like if he left you; he would never see you again. “I wanted-” He started, closing his eyes and fidgeting with his hands. “I wanted to say ‘goodbye’ to you, before I left.” Seeing you fight off a smile, your eyes blinking rapidly at his words. “That's sweet of you.” You smiled, tilting your head and seeing him look up. 

Obsessive!Choso who felt his cheeks warm at your words. “What time’s your flight?” You asked, picking up your coffee and taking a sip. “In an hour.” He exhaled, seeing you widen your eyes. “What are you still doing here? You're going to be late!” you exclaimed with a smile. ‘I know, I know. I still have to go get my bags, and call an uber to take me across town.’ He thought, hearing you say the same things he was thinking, calling your name in his mind, ‘But I don't care. I will buy another one, I will spend another fortune on a useless ticket home. I needed to see you.’ 

Obsessive!Choso who was practically pushed out the doors of the shop, standing in front of him with a look on your face as though you were waiting for something. “I'll call you.” You mumbled, looking into his eyes for the very first time. “I’ll answer.” He replied, hesitating to take a step back before walking away, looking back and seeing you wave goodbye at him through the windows. Closing his eyes, feeling his feet want to turn around, looking back once more. Already sitting back in the chair you were in when he first walked in. ‘Wait for me.’ he thought, speed walking back to his apartment.

Obsessive!Choso ran through the airport, being 15 minutes late- but he made it. Standing in the line to board the plane, looking over to a small gift shop. Seeing the cover of the book you were reading- running over and buying it as the line moved. Almost 30 dollars, but fuck. You were worth it.

Obsessive!Choso who got home to his brothers, he was happy to see them but something was missing. You were missing, spending the first night in his bed picturing you here with him. Being nice to his brothers, joking with them. Waiting for you to call him, or text him. But radio silence. Nothing. It made his head hurt, trying to fight off the thoughts of you being kidnapped. With his luck, the first night he was away from you, you probably would. Knowing how careless you were while walking home, how you didn't take any safety measures like carrying pepper spray or making sure to not take the same route home. ‘I will always make sure you're safe. Make sure you have black out curtains, make sure you don't have to walk home alone.’ Hands behind his head while looking up to the ceiling. ‘And as much as you'd fight me on this- make sure you won't walk around with your earphones in.’ The chances of someone coming up behind you and pressing a chloroform rag to your face were too great. Choso was sure that once he could, he would instill that fear into your head. The fear of someone hurting you, of how dangerous it was being so careless nowadays. The fear of someone taking you away from him.

Obsessive!Choso who opened instagram, clicking your account. His heart shattered. You had privated your account. Almost as though you heard his thoughts of how reckless you were about your privacy. Holding his phone in his hands, staring down at the screen with a mournful look plastered to it. Seeing a notification pop up at the top of his screen, from you. ‘You know me. You know me so well- you know exactly when I need you.’

Obsessive!Choso who screenshotted the notification, opening it and seeing you sent him a photo. Of you with a plate of food in your hand, furrowing your eyebrows playfully. ‘u home yet ?’ he read, closing his eyes and almost reciting a prayer in thanks. Seeing you in a black tank top with his favorite band printed onto it. The first photo you had ever sent him- a photo that only he had. That you took specifically for him. ‘You'd never send this to one of your friends. You showing me your shirt proves it.’ Saving the photo and typing, ‘since like 9pm’ quickly going to his settings and changing his wallpaper to the photo you just sent him. ‘why didnt u tell meeee’ you replied. You didn't give him a whole lot of time to reply before you called him, scolding him playfully. “You didn't want me to call you did you?” you asked, sarcasm making Choso smile. “I know it's late over there- I thought you were asleep.” He replied, doing the same thing he's done every time he's been on the phone with you. Picturing you standing in the same place you were when you took the photo. 

Obsessive!Choso who asked you what you were eating, “Leftover mac n cheese my roommate left.” you replied, almost disappointed with your own answer. ‘Cruel. How cruel of them to leave you with their leftovers. I will always make sure you eat a decent meal- that's right,’ he thought, saying your name. ‘I cook too. Just for you.’ He thought, hearing you let out a laugh when he asked, “Really?” in disappointment. “It was that or frozen pizza that's been there since I moved in.” You smiled. Your cheeks feeling fuzzy at his concern, “How's the reading going?” he asked, trying to ignore the sound of a glass breaking coming from the kitchen. “Meh, boring- the main character in this one I'm reading is annoying.” You shrugged, “As a matter of fact lemme read you one of the stupidest things he's said-” You smiled, opening the book and flipping the pages. “So, anyway, there I go again. Straying away from the point. Where was I?- like who published this? Makes me upset just thinking about how this guy is real.” you spoke, tossing it onto the counter and sighing. “The whole book is like that- it’s all just a mans troubles with women and enjoying hurting them- s’fucking stupid.” You heard him let out a stifled laugh, “It's not funny-” You smiled, hearing him keep laughing, “First book I want to finish and it's bullshit.” you exclaimed, hearing him settle down. “What book is it?” He asked, trying to stop his laugh. ‘I know what book it is. It's the same one you were reading in the cafe. The same one I started reading on the flight.’

Obsessive!Choso who smiled when you said the title. Closing his eyes in triumph. “Why did you get so far reading it?” he asked, knowing that the first page was shocking enough. “I thought- it was a book of someone who gets their karma back- becomes a better person- blah blah blah. But nope, apparently there's 2 more books. Of the same man, with the same troubles.” You replied, taking a bite from your plate and leaning against the counter. Furrowing your eyebrows when you fully processed his question. “How'd you know I was so far into reading it?” you asked, your tone indicated it wasn't a serious question. But it made Choso’s heart drop. “I saw how little pages you had left at the cafe.” He lied. Knowing he had read that page in the book earlier. Not fully read- more skimmed the pages.

Obsessive!Choso who felt relief when he heard you inhale. “I didn't know you noticed such small details like that.” You commented, holding the phone with your shoulder as you took another bite. Choso hummed at your response, “Anyway- don't talk to me about that book.” You grinned, hearing Choso exhale with a smile. You were about to ask him how his brothers were, starting the sentence but hearing a door slam open. “Choso- Yuuji broke moms vase!” You heard a teasing tone through the phone, “I did not!” you heard bickering, Choso mumbled a quick, “I gotta go-” placing his phone on his desk, not hanging up. Hearing Choso scold his younger brother before ending the call. Smiling at how much his tone changed when speaking to his brothers- more authoritative and demanding.

Obsessive!Choso who felt horrible for hanging up the way he did, thinking of how disrespectful it was. The argument that sparked between his brothers ran long, all of them blaming each other for breaking this vase. Which, according to Choso, was priceless. Texting you a quick, ‘sorry i didnt call u back, they just settled down.’ Seeing the message go from delivered to seen. ‘You were waiting for me?’

Obsessive!Choso whose heart felt tight when he read your reply. ‘was just abt to go to bed’ his fingers typing quickly, ‘im sorry, i'll text you in the morning?’ seeing the typing bubble pop up the minute he pressed send. ‘kk talk to u tmmrw. goodnightttt :)’ he smiled at your reply, ‘goodnight :]’ he replied, wanting to send you a <3 heart but he restrained himself.

Obsessive!Choso who texted you every morning, making you smile at his sweet ‘good morning’ texts. Knowing he'd be busy with his brothers so you didn't call him, but your phone was stuck onto your hand, replying to his texts at lightning speed. ‘call me when ur not busy okay?’ you'd ask, making Choso giggle like those words were some kind of great attempt at flirting. And he would- he'd try to. Somehow always being interrupted by his brothers- remembering why he chose a college so far away. But the 2 am calls when he'd hear your voice, quiet and sleepy. They were worth it. Knowing you'd keep yourself awake just to talk to him. The constant pinging from his phone and Choso leaving the room to call you made his brothers suspicious. Even more so when one of them caught a glimpse at his wallpaper, seeing a photo of you- taking his phone and passing it around. Teasing him and asking if he finally found a partner. 

Obsessive!Choso who died of embarrassment when he was talking to you on the phone, one of his brothers knocked loudly at his door. Jumping when he heard the youngest pound at the locked door. “Choso! Open up-” he shouted, twisting the doorknob as he heard you laugh. “Are you talking to your lover?!” he teased through the door, only earning you to laugh louder. Saying ‘Hold on’ Before muting the call, standing up and opening the door to see them huddled to hear what he was saying. A dark aura around him when he saw them, “What is wrong with you.” He stated, rather than asked, seeing them look up at him. “I needed 20 bucks…?” the youngest asked, Choso reaching into his pocket and tossing the money at him. Closing the door and locking it again. Coming back to the phone and pressing the unmute button. 

Obsessive!Choso mumbled, “Sorry.” hoping you didn't hear what just happened. Closing his eyes as you let out a small laugh, “Am i crazy or did your brother just call me your ‘lover’?” you asked, a smile evident in your tone. “You heard that?” he grimaced, hearing you laugh. “Yes. Yes, I did.” You answered, “What are you telling your brothers that they think I'm your ‘lover’, Choso?” You teased, hearing him exhale with a smile. ‘You're teasing me? Bad. This is bad.’ he thought, making his heart beat quickly in a good way, and in a bad way. Knowing that he would have to fight off your attempts at flirting with a stick. ‘So very tempting. Too tempting. But it's too soon. I want us to be good friends before I call you mine. But I am already yours. You don't have to worry about that.’

Obsessive!Choso who shut his eyes tightly, instantly regretting the words that came out of his mouth. “I haven't said a thing, but they noticed the texting. And the secret phone calls.” The silence showed him the disappointment you felt. Knowing you wanted to hear how he told them all about you. “Oh! Well I mean anyone would be suspicious of that!” you exclaimed, it got awkward. You felt embarrassed. Thinking that the attempt to make a move flew over his head, or he didn't feel the same. But all the signs? All the longing looks, all the subtle comments he’d say that made you realize he paid more attention to your words than you thought. To your actions, his eyes scan your face when you’d change the color of your lipstick, or when you'd wear a different perfume. Face full of confusion till he noticed what was different- you thought he was into you. ‘Maybe he is- and he just sucks at seeing when someone is flirting with him.’ You'd assure yourself.

Obsessive!Choso who kept saving the pictures you sent him. Of your coffee, of your poetry, of your outfits for the day, sending him a photo of the snow. Pictures of anything you could find, Choso would always smile at them. The ability of scrolling through your instagram wasn't sorely missed. Now being able to see photos of you that you took just for him. And saving every single one. Smile on your lips whenever you'd see he ‘loved an image’ before replying to your messages. 

Obsessive!Choso who was on his phone, refreshing your instagram page over and over again. Switching to his personal account, an account he made in highschool. Not even posted anything, less than 100 followers. Seeing a small red circle at the top right corner. Someone requested to follow him. Opening the notification and seeing you. Slack jawed when he saw the sight. Screenshotting quickly and accepting it. Requesting you back, seeing an incoming call flash onto the screen. “Hey.” he smiled at your words, gulping his excitement. “I was hoping you'd answer.” You continued, ‘God, you are everything to me.’ he thought.

Obsessive!Choso who felt like you were finally letting him in. “I know I told you I didn't really like social media.” You started, ‘Yes. Tell me the truth.’ he thought, picturing you in your bedroom, closing your eyes in embarrassment. “I lied a little- I just post a lot of bullshit, nd i was embarrassed you'd see that and think ‘Jesus this person is so annoyinnggg’ that's why!” You laughed, making Choso smile. “Well let me see-” he said, putting the phone on speaker and scrolling through your account, like he craved doing for the past few days. Making approving sounds as you told him to look away. 

Obsessive!Choso who called your name, grinning ear to ear, “Yes Choso?” You replied, mimicking the serious tone he called your name in. He felt it again, he felt his mouth speak before his brain could catch up. “Don’t ever worry about me finding you annoying, ever. Okay?” opening his eyes in shock at his own words. Only making you mute yourself to let out an over excited laugh, cheeks in pain from how hard you were smiling. Unmuting yourself and having the courage to say something. “Promise?” You let out, fiddling with the drawstring of your hoodie. “I promise.” He replied, making you exhale harshly. “I want to punch you in the face.” You laughed, making him laugh through his nose. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked, knowing the answer. “No. You didn't, and that's why!” You exclaimed. Rolling to lay on your stomach, shoving your face into your pillows. 

Obsessive!Choso knew that his attempts at brushing off your flirting weren't doing anything. He knew that the harder he'd try, the harder it would be to not flirt back. 

Obsessive!Choso who answered your request for a facetime, doing his hair in the bathroom. Seeing you pop up on his phone. “Heyyy” You started, furrowing your eyebrows when you saw him getting ready, “Woahhh, you got a date?” You smiled, seeing him look at you with a grimace. ‘Jealousy. Don't be possessive, I would never commit adultery. I only have eyes for you.’ he thought, scrambling with his hands before answering, “I have family photos with my brothers today. Thus-” He looked at the camera, his hands pointing to the ugly christmas sweater he was wearing. “This monstrosity.” He finished, making you laugh. Taking 3 pictures of him to tease him, but it didn't work. ‘You want pictures of me? Do you use them as your wallpaper too?’ He only smiled at the sudden flashes of white from his phone. “Send me pictures of the photos. I need to see the Kamo family in matching sweaters.” You smiled, picturing them all in the awkward style that was used in the 90’s. He squinted his eyes, already picturing your reaction when you'd see the photos. “I’ll think about it.” sarcasm filled his tone as he fought off a smile. 

Obsessive!Choso who put on his jewelry, all while you were propped up and watching him. “When do you get back again?” You asked, seeing him look at you whilst fixing his rings. “I was planning on getting back on the 6th of January. But I was thinking-” He smiled, “Of coming back on the 29th.” Picking up his phone and seeing you smile. “Good idea. Its been fucking boring out here. I forgot how many unstimulating people there were at this school.” You exhaled. ‘Say you miss me. Say it.’  

Obsessive!Choso who saw you post a photo of a book earlier. “And the reading?” he asked, putting his shoes on. “It's a little better- I picked up Gone Girl.” you exhaled, “Good choice.” He grinned, seeing you exasperate. “Controversial- I know, but I kinda see myself in the main character?” You confessed, making a chill run down his spine. “Not the whole- murdering and framing someone for crimes-” you laughed, hearing his silence. “I mean in the way she thinks, the way she connects things. It's intriguing.” You clarified. Making him smile, “It was a very good book. The movie too.” He smiled, picturing you being as insane as the main character, “God I loved the movie.” You trailed off. ‘This was fate. Are you telling me you feel the same way I do? In your own way- but still.’ 

Obsessive!Choso who saw you started posting two plates on a table in a restaurant. Wondering who you could be with. ‘All your friends are out of town, roommates too. Who are you with?’ wanting to ask you, but that wasn't his place. Not just yet. But that didn't stop him from scouring your following list, going through your tags. Trying to find who this person you were with was. But not even a hint was dropped.

Obsessive!Choso who sent you the photos of his family, as awkward as you pictured them. Noticing there weren't any parents, just him and his younger brothers. Calling him immediately and laughing, “Choso- you all look adorable.” You laughed, making him blush. “This is my new laptop wallpaper, I love these pictures.” You smiled, “Nope, that's not necessary.” Choso smiled, his tone full of embarrassment., But also feeling his chest warm. ‘Making me your screensaver, and telling me you love the pictures I'm in? Can we get married already?’

Obsessive!Choso who received a picture of your laptop, you acted on your words. The photo was your screensaver, not just on your computer- but on your phone as well. Your attempts to tease him only made him think that you love him as much as he did. And that's all you did, feed into his delusions and only fuel the fire that was burning inside of him since the first day he saw you. You felt like this break with him being gone was necessary. Necessary to step back and see how you really feel for him. Remembering you've only been friends with him for- if you were being generous, was a month and a half. True, you found him intriguing before you became friends. But you didn't want to risk it. Ruin a friendship with someone like him. Slowly reeling in the line you had thrown at him, becoming open to the idea of him being just a friend. 

Obsessive!Choso was on the flight home, a week earlier than he had planned- but Christmas was over. And he didn't want to be away from you any longer. Leaving his bags at his apartment before walking onto campus, small piles of snow around the doors of the coffee shop. realizing how much it really snowed. Reaching his hand for the door knob but pulling away when he hears his name being called. Turning around to see you, speed walking to him. The big coat you wore made you look like a walking marshmallow. Smiling when he saw your face, thinking of how much he longed to see you. The pixelated facetimes and photos you sent him not coming close to showing how beautiful you looked face to face. 

Obsessive!Choso who blinked and somehow opened his eyes to see the top of your head, your cheek pressed to his chest. Your arms around him, hands hesitating to hug you back at the shock. Feeling his hands rest on your puffy jacket, almost nervous to touch you. Nestling your face to his chest and murmuring “Missed you.” Pulling away and looking up at him with a smile, cold weather making his nose pinkish. “I missed you too.” He smiled, almost gulping for breath. Seeing you take a step back, smile on your face. Opening your mouth to say something, “There you are, I was wondering where you ran off to.” you were interrupted. A man coming up behind you, hand on your waist- almost pulling you away from Choso. Watching you lean into his touch- 'Um?' calling your name in his head, almost in anger. ‘Who the fuck is this?’ Seeing you smile while looking over at him. 

Obsessive!Choso who hid his irritation well, jaw clenched and eyebrows threatening to furrow. Seeing you scramble for words, “How rude of me- This is my good friend Choso I was telling you about.” You smiled, looking at the man who looked Choso up and down. Just with that, Choso knew this guy was using you. Just by looking at him. ‘I didn't know you were into pretty boys, older too.’ he thought, watching your eyes sparkle when you looked over at him. “And this- This is my… friend, Theo.” You beamed. ‘You didn't wait for me. But you also didn't give up on me completely. The hesitation at calling him your 'friend' tells me that.’ silence filling the air as you smiled, waiting for them to greet each other. “We were about to go to dinner, do you want to join us, Choso?” You asked. Seeing your 'friend' look over to you with a certain look on his face you only see in men who were expecting something more from a person. Sickeningly sweet smile on Choso's face when he heard 'Theo' speak, “He just got off a flight babe-” He started. ‘Babe. Babe? What an uncreative and unimaginative thing to call you, no wonder you invited me. He must not make you laugh, but that's what I'm here for. I'm here to make you see that this 'Theo' is nothing but a place holder. A place holder for me.'

-

pt 6 here

LET ME KNOW IF U WANNA BE TAGGED PLS ITS MY FAVORITE PART ( if u wanna be tagged without commenting pls just say sum like 'tag me continually' i don't wanna @ someone who doesn't wanna be @ ykno?

IM SORRY I ADDED ANOTHER MAN BUT PLS BE PATIENT I HAVE PLANS FOR THIS.......I wrote this today and was blushing and kicking my feet the whole time. Started at 12 pm, and finished at 3 am. I love doing this. alr writing the next part hehe

[runningfrom2am]

leveling the playing field VI

summary: you didn't meet the requirements for the plinth prize, only to find out that you're not just missing out on that- you're missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime. your friend wants to help, because maybe you can help each other.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.6k (she's long today DAMN)

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and discussion of abuse, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing

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a/n: omg it finally happened?? i couldn't resist anymore i had to :,)

anyway i wanted to pop in for a rare note and say thank you so so much to everyone reading this!! it means so much to me that people are enjoying this as much as i am enjoying writing it :)

so if you are and you wouldn't mind,, please reblog or leave your thoughts in the replies! it really helps me out so that way it can reach more people, and also it really helps motivate me to actually keep writing it bc i'll be reminded people want me to :).

thank you for reading this long ass authors note! and thanks for making it this far in the fic!! 

i promise it's not over yet ;) we've still got a long way to go! so hopefully i'll see y'all soon when the next part comes out !

xoxo, raye

You walked back to the academy, still too high on adrenaline to even consider sleeping at that point. By the time Coryo made it back in, it was nearly eight am. You totally understand him wanting to get a bit of extra sleep, considering the night you just had- but who knows how long he was with Dr. Gaul.

Other mentors had started to arrive before he did, and almost everyone made it clear they didn't want to speak with you. You didn't have the energy to chat anyway, you didn't want to. You're endlessly relieved when Coryo arrives, notifying you of his presence with a hand on your shoulder. You jump at this, regardless of his effort to not scare you.

The chair scrapes across the floor and you feel everyone's eyes on you at the dramatic reaction. To him, it really wasn't shocking.

"Sorry- I'm sorry." You chuckle, quickly getting up to give him his spot back.

"Have you slept?" He asks, making no effort to reclaim the desk, noticing how your hands are shaking as you motion for him to sit.

You aren't sure what the safer answer is. Yes, I slept while I was supposed to be watching over Lucy Gray? Or no, I'm still running on the two hours I got a couple of days ago? Neither is very promising, so you decide to just be honest.

"No, uh, I've been watching for Lucy Gray." You point to the screen, unable to control the trembling of your hand as you do. "I couldn't sleep if I wanted to, so I just decided to start drinking coffee a few hours ago. Might as well commit." You explain, trying to force positivity into your tone and a smile on your face.

Coryo eyes you warily. "You should go home. Get some rest."

"No! No, I'm fine." You insist. "I'm not missing it."

"Go home and sleep." He says again, sternly this time. You tend to listen to him when he's commanding so he clung to that approach, but the look in your eyes immediately makes him regret it.

You look down, then back to your seat on the bench. You take a shaky breath before locking eyes with the blonde again. You're full of impulses that contradict each other. To listen to him, to snap and tell him not to speak to you like that, or to storm out and never come back. Realistically, he is under a ridiculous amount of stress. You can't blame him for being a little commandeering. After all, it's what he is meant to do. It's what he's been raised for. "I told you. I can't."

Realization dawns on him and he stares at you for a second, eyes widening. "Right." He nods slightly, shrugging off his coat and holding it out to you. "Just go lay down on the bench." He accentuates his point by shaking the jacket.

You smile, taking it gratefully. "Thank you, Coryo."

"'Course." He nods, finally moving to sit down once you walk away. You settle down on the bench and curl up, your head resting on his bunched-up uniform jacket like it's a pillow. You're not sure you've ever been so comfortable, and you're asleep within a minute.

Coriolanus wonders if his coat will smell like raspberries when you return it.

"What's he doing?" You hear Coryo's accusatory voice before you even open your eyes. As you try and shift, adjusting to the sounds of everyone around you, you come back to reality. No wonder your neck is sore as soon as you sit up, sore from your wooden bed, with no time to really wake up before you're hit with the realization of what's happening on the screen.

"I-I don't know!" Lysistrata says, assumingly replying to him.

You're squinting at the lights as you adjust, the figures of Lucy Gray and Jessup becoming clear as he chases her in her rainbow dress out of the tunnel and across the floor, booking it toward a pile of debris that would allow her to climb up into the stands.

"What's happening?" You ask pointlessly, standing now that you see Coryo is as well.

Lysistrata looks at you, shrugging helplessly as she stands next to Coryo.

"Hey! You promised me that if I-" You start, pacing toward the girl with determination, anger burning up in your chest and in your eyes.

"Y/N/N, wait-" Coriolanus holds his hand out to stop you, effectively his attack dog, from getting any closer. From telling her off for blowing your deal. He squints closer at the screen, not saying a word, just leaving you in a limbo- unsure what to do.

As the camera zooms in on the tribute, his theory is confirmed. Jessup has a white foam surrounding his mouth, and Coryo looks at you knowingly. Had Lucy Gray poisoned him? Surely not, he was her only ally. It was too early to take him out, but maybe she didn't think that through, maybe-

"Rabies." You say, hardly above a whisper, eyes locked back on the screen now as well. "That's why the medications didn't help."

Coriolanus is relieved by this explanation, it makes so much more sense. But only knowing what's wrong doesn't help Lucy Gray, Jessup is still fully feral, chasing her up in the stands on wobbly legs as she makes her way to what is left of a concession stand.

"If she can just stay away, he won't last long in this state." Lysistrata says, looking on with sadness in her eyes. "Poor Jessup..."

"Coryo." You say, ignoring her sympathies, seeing Coryo's mind running miles a minute trying to figure out what to do. "Do you remember those posters in the war? When the rabies breakout happened?" You ask, holding onto his arm, giving him a light shake to snap him out of it. "They said that-"

You don't get to finish before he's reaching for the comunicuff. Water, of course.

"Wait." Lysistrata stops him, grabbing the arm that was reaching for the screen.

"Don't touch him! Jessup's going to die anyway! All we can do is try to keep him away- you just said that!" You fire off at her.

"I know, Y/N." She lets him go, holding her hands out defensively. "Let me do it. He's my tribute, after all."

"Lyssie... You don't have to do that." Coriolanus tells her, and you feel guilty for snapping on her like that. She was just trying to help.

"If Jessup can't win, I want it to be Lucy Gray. That's what he would want, too." She explains, stepping back to her desk, tapping away at the screen and sending in water bottles on faulty drones that are more likely to knock the tributes out and smash the bottle than successfully deliver it to their hand.

Thankfully, this is what you want. You watch quietly as Jessup is bombarded with drones programmed to seek out his features, and Lucy Gray drops behind some of the seats to avoid any flying glass or stray drones. He swings helplessly at them with a board he picked up somewhere along the chase, and you glance at Lyssie for only a second, which is long enough to pick up on the fact that she's crying. God, that's probably your fault.

He trips and falls off the stands, bones audibly cracking on impact. Everyone in the room is silent as Lucy Gray reemerges, climbing down to be at his side.

"God, please don't let him die alone..." Lysistrata whispers, hardly audible even to Coriolanus, who's stood right next to her.

"She won't." He whispers back. "It's not her style."

You swallow, drowning in your own guilt while Lucy Gray is talking to the dying boy, stroking his hair and telling him to go to sleep until his eyes lose all sense of life, chest halting. She closes his eyes gently, which cues the buzzer announcing his death.

"Lyssie..." You stop her as she stands to leave, her eyes glassy. "I'm sorry, I didn't know what you were doing."

She laughs slightly, more tears spilling from her eyes. "Y/N. I know you, okay? I get it. Don't apologize if you don't mean it." Until she finished speaking, you didn't realize her laughs were bitter. "You can't keep taking out your anger issues on everyone else. I'm sick of it, everyone is sick of it- sick of you." She says, not giving you the chance to defend yourself before she's gone. You did mean it, but it's not like she'd ever believe that. You had done this to yourself.

You straighten your shoulders, turning to face the screen again. "Lysistrata will come around." Coryo says, sensing the tension radiating off your skin like a heater.

You just slightly shake your head. "Maybe I... Maybe I should go home. Just for a bit." You say, but it comes out more as a question.

"You should stay." He states, offhandedly sending some food in for Lucy Gray before turning to face you fully. He could guess why you don't want to go home, whether or not you were explicitly told to not return until the games were done, though, he doesn't know. Either way, for him, it wasn't worth the risk.

"Actually, yeah, you're right." You sniff. "I'm just having a moment. I'll be fine." You force a smile, blinking rapidly to push back those stubborn tears that wanted to spill.

"No, no that's not what I meant. I just meant..." Coryo trails off.

"It's okay." You smile and nod. "Can I just get some air, then? I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Please. Don't rush on my account." He nods. "But don't stray too far."

"Yes sir, Mister President." You joke, giving him a lazy salute before heading for the door.

You had been gone for a while, far too long for Coriolanus's comfort. Lucy Gray retreated into the tunnels after receiving the food he sent and seeing Reaper come back into the clearing. Now, with Lucky rambling on about the weather again, he felt like he would snap.

He double-checks once more that Lucy Gray is, in fact, still hiding, before he gets up to go after you.

It doesn't take Coryo long to find you, due to him tracking down the sound of crying in the hall. No doubt in his mind it was you, but he'd never seen you cry before.

You stop at the sound of footsteps, frantically wiping your eyes and nose on your sleeve as you make an effort to stand. By then, he's in front of you.

"Don't get up." He says, crouching down in front of you. He doesn't know what to say, he doesn't know exactly why you're crying, or how to help. He wishes he did, he would do just about anything. "What do you need?"

You shake your head, forcing a smile and trying to stand anyway. Coryo stops you with a hand on your shoulder. "I-I don't.." You start, but as soon as you speak the tears start flowing again and you feel like you can't breathe.

"It's okay. Hey, you're okay." He says, pulling you into his arms, effectively onto his lap as he sits back. One thing he knows that works with you is a hug- it's all he can do while he thinks over what could be the root of your problem, or was it just that Lysistrata's comment pushed you over the edge? You were overtired, overworked, and this easily could have been the last straw.

Through your tears, you try to tell him that you're fine, but you just stutter and spit and you know you're a mess- a mortification to your family.

"I'm not sick of you, Y/N." Coryo says, rubbing your back. Feeling your hair between his fingers and trying not to tangle it or pull it by mistake. "I could never get sick of you."

It surprises him when you laugh. Of all things, a laugh. It was just so you.

His statement was more of a confession to himself than to you, and when you pull back he's scared. Was it not about that? Was he way off base, or incredibly unhelpful and somehow offended you?

You sniff, wiping your eyes again. "Thanks," You chuckle, shaking your head. "But you don't have to say that."

Coryo tilts his head, confusion knitted into his expression. "I do." He insists, able to look into your eyes now. "I have to tell you that because it's the truth."

You sigh, smiling slightly. Sadly. "You don't see it."

"See it? See what?"

You just shrug, making no attempts to move away. His hands on you, the feeling of him almost surrounding you is comforting. You want to live in it forever, but you know you can't. "Just... That I'm me, I guess." You say, voice cracking. "You're unflinching to it." You're abrasive sometimes, defensive, and some would call you an overall angry person. He doesn't see you that way, and you're not sure why. Today you were slapped in the face with the fact that your actions have consequences more serious than what your parents can make up for with money or unwritten agreements.

"What's wrong with being you?" He asks rhetorically, not giving you a chance for you to argue before he continues. "You did the right thing. They're jealous- that's all it is. None of them fight for what they want like you, they just sit around and wait for it to be handed to them on a silver platter, and you could too, but you're better than that. You're better than them. Stronger than them."

With his hands now moved up to your shoulders, he's shaking you gently, trying to get your mind to soak in what he's telling you. To believe it, because he knows he's right. The reason others avoid you is the very reason he is drawn to you- your ambition is unmatched, except, maybe, by his own.

"Do you understand, Y/N?" Coryo asks, pressing one hand to your cheek and staring deep into your eyes as if he could somehow look into your mind and grab hold of what Lysistrata said, replacing it with his vision of who you are. "You are perfect. They are fools."

Your smile had gone, ready to fight his point, but it returned by the time his rant was done, blush creeping its way across your cheeks and over your nose. "Perfect is a bit of a strong word." You speak softly. "Don't you think?"

"No. I don't." He shakes his head slightly, running his thumb across your cheek to wipe away a stray tear.

The air became thick with everything he said circulating in your head like a carousel. A relentless spinning cycle with Coryo's every word circling around itself and caging in your panic. The spinning seemed to slow after a moment, as if giving you a chance to catch your breath.

Seemingly, in your experience with him, compliments were few and far between. To others, anyway. Not that you were keeping track, but if receiving compliments from Coriolanus Snow was a race you would be winning by a mile, and that's exactly what it felt like every time.

He tilts your chin up again, the same way he had just a couple of days ago in the arena, drawing your eyes back to his. It takes every ounce of his focus to keep his hand from shaking.

Truth be told, the desperate honesty in his eyes was enough to convince you he was right. You are better than them, smarter than them, stronger than them. If Lysistrata and your other classmates chose to hate you for that, that was because of fear. You'd be lying if you tried to say it didn't make you feel better, even powerful. Coriolanus thought it was right, so how could it not be?

You smile, nodding slightly within his grasp. "You're right, aren't you?"

"Always." He validates your entire thought process just like that.

You can't help it anymore. The power of his words push you past the brink, leaning forward to meet his lips with your own. Coryo pulls you forward with his firm and gentle hold on your cheek, meeting you half way. And as he kisses you, heart pounding out of his chest, you both feel fucking invincible.

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[lemoncrushh]

A Night Out with Harry

Summary: You take care of Harry after a drunken night out.

Warnings: None really (unless you don't like cuddly drunks)

Word Count: 1171

A/N: A cute, fluffy blurb from my 2016 collection. Kinda helps if you know this song.

"C'mon Harry, let's go," you said with a chuckle, tugging on his arm.

"But the song's not over yet," he whined.

You looked up at the small stage where some bloke was murdering Foreigner's "I Want to Know What Love Is." Shaking your head, you leaned closer to him.

"You can listen to the original recording at home, baby. Trust me, it's way better."

Harry blinked and glared at you. It was obvious he was trying to focus on your face, but you were sure his inebriated state made it difficult.

"I love this song," he declared.

"I know," you patted his arm. "You said that about the last five songs."

Through several pints of beer and a couple shots, you'd enjoyed watching Harry have a good time. Even when the entire bar had corralled together for a few choruses of "All the Young Dudes", you'd joined in, looping arms with Harry and some guy you'd never met before. But now you were getting tired, and Harry was drunk.

"C'mon, sweetheart," you cooed. "Time to go home."

"I want you to shooooowwww meeeee!!" Harry sang as you reached the exit.

He tripped a little when you set foot on the sidewalk, combing his fingers through his hair.

"Oops," he giggled, gripping your hand tighter.

You made it to the car safely, the driver holding the door open for you. Sliding in the back seat next to Harry, you rested your hand on his leg.

"Did you have fun?" you grinned up at him.

"'Course I did," he leaned back against the headrest. "I was with you."

You continued to smile as you threaded your fingers through his. Harry reached over with his other hand, slipping it under your ear as he kissed you tenderly. You could taste the beer on his tongue as it met yours. Suddenly breaking from the kiss and sitting back, his eyes met yours with a fiery glow.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you, too."

His eyelids heavy, Harry gave you his dimpled smile, pulling you closer to him. He sighed, leaning his head on your shoulder. You kissed the top of his head, raking your fingers down his back. He was quiet for most of the ride home, and you wondered for a second if he'd fallen asleep. Just as the driver pulled up in front of the house, however, Harry wound his arm around your waist.

"We're here, baby," you whispered.

Harry merely groaned as the door opened for you. You murmured to him to sit up and you helped him out of the car. Harry was too big for you to carry inside, so you were grateful that he was able to at least walk with minimal assistance. Once you were in the house, you guided him to the sofa. He sat back as you helped remove his boots, then went to the kitchen to get a couple water bottles from the refrigerator.

"Drink this," you insisted.

Taking it from you, Harry swallowed half of it in one large gulp. Setting the bottles on the table, you sat next to him.

"Are you okay?"

Leaning back against the couch, he shut his eyes. "I'm sorry, love," he muttered. "I'm so drunk."

You chuckled. "You don't say."

"I wanted to show you how much I -" Harry cut his phrase short as he suddenly sat up straight. "I wanna hear the song!"

"Song?" you asked, perplexed when he rose from the sofa and stumbled toward the stereo.

After pressing a few buttons, you heard the sound of the song starting, surrounding you in the room. With a grin, you sat back, watching Harry turn to you.

"Can't stop now, I've traveled so far, to change this lonely liiiiifffe," Harry sang as he walked back to you, his arms outstretched.

"Dance with me, my love," he begged.

Your chest shook with laughter as you gazed at him. He could barely stand, you weren't sure how good he'd be at dancing.

"Please."

Licking your lips, you stood up and wrapped your arms around his neck as he held onto your waist. You were pleasantly surprised as you swayed back and forth to the music without a hitch. Harry leaned his forehead against yours, lightly kissing your nose. Then he ran his hand up your arm, releasing it from around his neck and pressing it against his chest. Though his eyes were glossy and bloodshot, they were still incredibly green and glowing with admiration. Every time he looked at you, you felt special, an immediate flutter in your heart.

Harry sang along softly with the song, his breath on your face as you laid your head against his shoulder.

"I really love you, Y/N," he declared.

"I really love you, Harry," you echoed.

The song ended and Harry blinked.

"Fuck, I need to lie down."

You giggled. "Okay, c'mon, baby."

Turning off the stereo and the lights along the way, you guided Harry to the bathroom where he relieved himself then met you in the bedroom, quickly plopping down on the bed, his head on the pillow. You changed out of your clothes, into a tank top and a pair of pajama shorts.

"Are you gonna sleep in your clothes?" you inquired when Harry hadn't moved.

"Don't wanna."

You weren't sure if that meant he didn't wanna sleep in his clothes, or he didn't wanna make the effort to take them off. Nevertheless, you rounded the bed to his side, urging him to sit up. You removed his shirt for him, then unbuttoned his jeans. He was able to lift up to take them off, quickly returning to his position on the bed. Crawling in beside him, you put your hand on his bare chest.

"Ready for sleep, baby?" you asked him, tracing his tattoos.

He barely nodded. "Yeah. But I wanna hold you first."

"Sounds good to me," you happily agreed.

Switching off the lamp, you pressed your body against his as much as possible. Harry turned on his side, enveloping you once more. You breathed against his chest as he kissed your forehead. Then he trailed down your nose to your lips. No other words were spoken, nor were they needed. Sloppy, sweet kisses, but you didn't mind in the least. Though it lit up your body intensely, neither of you made any moves to go further.

After the kissing, you remained lying in silence, listening to Harry's breathing and heartbeat. You knew he was getting sleepy, and you could barely keep your eyes open as well. Turning over, you grabbed your pillow, situating it the way you liked. You felt Harry's hands on your hips, pulling you back to him, though he didn't make you turn over. Instead, he ran his hand down your leg and back up, letting it lie against your stomach. You heard Harry hum the tune of the song as he held you, making you smile. His breaths tickled your ear until they finally evened out and you knew he was asleep.

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[emptymasks]

i got to see hadestown on the west end and all i have to say is AAAA. i liked the original broadway cast so much i didn't think anything else could compare to me, but omg they were all amazing and maybe it's a bias from seeing it live vs seeing broadway through recordings, but i actually enjoyed them so much more. i think what helped is i felt a lot more for donal's orpheus, whereas reeve's never managed to really put at my heartstrings.

okayokay what i have to list out loved (going to try and go through the show chronologically):

la barrie's hermes using no titles and they/them pronouns. the lyrics were changed to reflect this eg "excuse me, hermes" instead of "mister hermes" at the beginning of 'wait for me', and "feathers on their feet" instead of "feathers on his feet" in 'road to hell'.

the cast keeping their own accents. it's not often in uk theatre to hear british regional accents, even if the actor has or had that accent. so hearing a nothern accent from eurydice was aaaa. as a northerner it made me really happy. i'm not sure if that's grace's real accent or not but aa it just made .

donál keeping his irish accent too. and the chemistry between his orpheus and grace's eurydice was adorable.

hermes slowly kissing persephone hand during 'our lady of the underground'.

PERSEPHONE didn't think I could love anyone more than grey but omg. i've never loved "our lady of the underground" but I do now, the way gloria performed it and this one long belting note she did while bending over crazy far backwards aaa. and at one point while dancing she acted like she'd gone too hard and pulled her back and got stuck, but then very smoothly went into leaning down towards the audience and singing directly at people in the front rows.

wasn't 100% sold on hades at first since his voice isn't as deep as what I'm used too (used to listening to page as hades), but after "i conduct the electric city" and the lights went out and when they came back on there was a single silly spotlight on hades was stood leaning against the door checking his nails all sultry like. his acting was so different from what I'm used too, more energetic and more... playful? i'm not sure if that's the right word but i can't think of anything else. and less cold and stern than page but I ended up really enjoying him. i've got two very different versions of hades i love now.

new lyrics in epic three, "what has become of the heart of that man" has been replaced with new lyrics. i think "man with his arms outreached" has reverted back to pre-broadway "man with his hat in his hands" but i'll be honest me memory of what the new lyrics are is not great.

i cried when hades and persephone danced. both of them were crying. and when they finished dancing he sobbed and crumpled into her arms and she stroked his head and back and held him the whole time orpheus and eurydice sang "promises"

hades breaking it down during the dance, doing silly dance moves and making persphone laugh, and then she joins in and does his silly dance moves with him 10/10 people supporting their partners silly dance moves.

hades "i don't know" answer to if orpheus and eurydice can go... i'm used to patrick page's grave, defeated "i don't know" and here instead you could really see the inner conflict and he was holding hands with persephone and when he said it she angrily let go of his hand and he had his little "his kiss the riot" freak out.

orpheus and hades handshake during the wait for me reprise aaaa