#which i think is literally just a me thing idk

[bunny584]

OBSESSED: TOJI

A/N: You’re booked. Busy. Filled to the brim with board meetings. Then your car decides to stop functioning. There’s one mechanic shop open and somehow they seem to only hire God’s sweetest eye candy. One of which keeps getting stuck in the back of your throat. Uh—I mean—

S/N: Toji Mother-Fucking (literally) Fushiguro. Idk why it took me so long to feature this green-eyed monster but I am foaming at the mouth for this AU, him, and his lil vampy co-worker. Toji girlies, can’t WAIT to rush Toji Tau Sigma this fall 🙂‍↕️

C/W: ….he’s his own CW. Mature, 18+. MDNI. 

Art credit: yashaliart_01 on insta

Music: for the love of God if you don’t listen to Obsessed x Mariah Carey I’m calling the coast guard. Reader wants to pretend Toji is not her newest vice so BAD. Ive never laughed so hard and been so painfully turned on writing a piece. SOMEONE tell me not to make this a series RN.

“Can I get a little help here?”

Toji grabs the rag nestled in the back pocket of his heavy work cargos. Charcoal ink stains the fabric. 

Bugatti engines are such a bitch. And make a mess like one too. 

“Hello? Am I talking to a wall or..?”

And just like that, you’ve earned yourself a few more seconds of silence. 

The mechanic’s Evergreen gaze and satisfied smirk peer back at him in the mirror. Not even a second passes before you ensnare him in your fiery scrutiny. 

Ahh, yes. Just his type. 

You are mean. 

With a sexy fucking silhouette. An angry merlot painted on those beautiful, pouted lips. A fresh manicure and keys to your Benz dig into hips that have definitely stopped traffic. 

The mirror image isn’t enough of a bite. Toji needs a real taste, so he turns around to lock eyes with his new favorite unsatisfied customer. 

“Mornin, doll.” 

“Nice of you to grace me with your presence! I was starting to think no one worked here.” 

Melodramatic, the way you narrow your gaze to bring his name tag into focus. It’s hot, though. All this sarcasm and irritation. 

“—Toji? Is it?” You hiss venom. Clearly there’s a point you’re in a hurry to make. 

But..

it’s 7:13 AM on a lovely Monday morning.  Birds are singing. The Red Bull he just downed was particularly delicious. Life is good, right now. 

Toji has all the time in the world. 

He’s in no rush. Especially when a stunning, uptight, bratty little thing — sorry, career woman — like you woke up and chose him to be your personal punching bag. 

And he’s built to take hits. From fists much, much larger than yours, gorgeous.  

“Toji, it is. What can I do for you, darlin?” 

And he knew that sweet, innocent pet name would dump diesel fuel all over those pretty flames. 

You ramble off your full name as if he is going to use it. By the time he’s through with you, you won’t have any use for it either. 

His name, though. You’ll have plenty use for his name. 

“…and when the stupid thing turns on this morning, the dash light won’t turn off.” 

Toji lands on earth just in time to clasp the car keys shoved into his chest. You’re gawking at him. Expecting a fury of motion and urgency. Because your charming little fingers demand it. 

So accustomed to time stopping and starting on your watch, aren’t you? 

“You’re so pretty.” Toji responds with a shit eating grin. 

Just for the huffing and puffing you’re currently displaying. Sputtering about how unprofessional he is. And how much work you have to get done. 

Adorable. 

Toji slips past your disdain and makes his way to the front door. Matte black G-Wagon with a champagne interior. The vision of you behind the wheel, scowling at traffic, in your tailored dress and stilettos makes his cock twitch. 

“She’s a beauty.” He calls from the driver seat. 

“That’s why I bought it. Can you please pick up the pace a little?”

Both arms are folded across your chest, eyes rolling at his wasted breath stating the obvious. 

You’re going to look phenomenal when he has those defiant arms pinned above your head. He’ll diminish those daggers in your eyes to tears. And make those puffy lips whimper for mercy. 

Toji will have you begging him to pick up the pace in no time. Your snarky comment was just a test run. 

The mechanic lets out a low chuckle, his eyes scan the dash for the source of your apparent distress. 

The tire pressure gauge. 

Really, gorgeous? This is why you’re screwed so tightly this morning? 

It should take approximately 3 minutes to fix. But there’s no way Toji is letting you slip away from his skilled fingers so easily. Not when you need to be unwound.

Unraveled bit by bit until you’re a warm, sweet, puddle of manners and gratitude. 

“Alright, babydoll—“

“My name is—“

“I’ll have my guys get to workin on it, sweetheart.” 

He can play this game all day. You scoff. Temporarily placated by his promise of a fix. 

“It’s an all day job, though.” Toji’s right hand man comes into view. 

The only other guy in the shop (on the planet) to get as much play as he does without meaning to. 

Women are insane about his stupid, empty-headed, love-drunk stare. And the purple rings around his eyes like the last time he got sleep was in his mother’s womb. Always giggling and asking about “the hot one with the pigtails” and “the pretty one with the tattoo on his nose.”

If he were a less confident man, Toji would’ve called someone else over. But the kid gets his antics. 

And today is going to be stuffed with them. 

“Choso! Can you take this beauty to the back for repair?” 

Dracula’s first born is sporting his hair down today. Already a bit damp from work. He gives you a once over, then offers a smile that evaporates underwear off of women. 

“Happy to. Which beauty am I taking to the back?”

“Ha, quit your lover boy shit.” Toji teases, and you sneer at his hypocrisy. 

“The car, big guy. Have it ready by 5:00, yeah?”

“5:00 pm?” You do a thing with your hands eventually landing on your hips. And Toji’s dick leaks like a virgin. 

“Well, there must be a courtesy rental. My first meeting starts in an hour.”

“I’m so sorry, miss. We don’t have that.” 

Kamo, you slick fuck. 

Choso apologizes with his signature puppy-eyes and half open mouth. Even you, made of sharp words and soft curves. Goddess of Fire and Ice, you melt under his gaze. 

Toji snickers to himself, while you stutter to a shockingly patient understanding. 

Something about the boy looking half asleep and like he can’t string letters together to spell his own name always does the trick. Leaving you wide open for the kill. 

“Tell you what, sweetheart.” Toji moves in with an assassin’s expertise. 

“Consider me your courtesy rental.”

“I’m sorry—what?” You flicker between the two smiles, rightfully suspicious. 

“I’ll get you from point A to point B, safe and sound.” The mechanic offers again with a broad smile, dangling his own car keys in his hand. 

Pensive eyes drop down to your watch. Board meetings start soon and he is offering a courtesy ride. 

“Fine.” Finally, a little submission. 

“It’s a 10 minute drive. The high rise on the corner of Koen and Mitake street.” 

The financial district. No wonder why you’re so tightly wound. 

“I know exactly, where we are going.” Toji beams. Beating your slender fingers to the passenger door. You barely mutter a ‘thanks’ before settling into the seat. 

You in your heels. And suit jacket. And handbag that costs enough to feed a large family for 6 months. Nestled so perfectly into his passenger seat. Toji can’t help but acknowledge how hard his dick is right now. 

The career woman clearly doesn’t approve of how fast he is hurling down corner streets. But you should understand, no? Places to be, and all that jazz?

“Uh, I’m sorry, where exactly are you taking me?” You perk up. Darting those beautiful warm eyes at the very short building in front of you. 

Not the corner of Koen and Mitake street, but Toji’s favorite coffee shop about 3 blocks over. The only place in the city that can get an Americano right - La Parisian. 

Toji grins maniacally. Pulling his sports car into a front row spot. 

“Point A, darlin.”

“Look, I don’t know what kind of game you are playing but I swear—“

“C’monnn. Lighten up.” He turns to face your incredulous expression. You wear it well, by the way.

“People stand when you walk in a room.” He continues. “They’ll still stand if you’re 5 minutes late and properly caffeinated.” 

Silence. Two huffs. A bitten lower lip. And one long, drawn out sigh.

“Fine. 5 minutes, max. Then I’ve got to get going I have—“

“Meetings baby, I know.” Toji finishes you off. 

He steps out of the driver’s seat fast enough to be at your door before your fingers touch the handle. 

The two of you walk in stride (in Toji’s mind) to the cafe. It’s adorable how you beeline towards the pastry display. Salivating over the various treats. Doing the thing women do, badgering the person manning the register about nutritional details. 

As if your figure wouldn’t make any living red-blooded human being fall to their knees. 

“What can I get started for you?” The barista probes. 

“I’ll have a soy London Fog latte, please.” You flicker over to the dessert you think you’re leaving behind. 

“And?” Toji probes. He taps the glass in front of the vanilla macaroon.

Another crack in the shield. You flash him a genuine smile for 0.04 seconds before turning back to the register.

“…and a vanilla macaroon, please.” You’re cute when you’re sheepish. 

“And I’ll have the largest iced Americano you can make, thanks.” 

Toji closes out the transaction and you two mosey over to a small table by a window. Your shoulders relax with the first sip of coffee. 

A satisfied grin tugs on your chauffeur’s lips. He knew what you needed the second he laid eyes on you. 

Much to your chagrin, and Toji’s delight — conversation flows like a bottomless well between you. The second something warm and another thing sweet landed on your tongue — the shield crumbled down. 

You’re an account executive. 

You work 80+ hour weeks. 

Live in an uppity neighborhood with a Doberman named Rocky. You got him because you like walking around at night to clear your mind. Having a dog taller than you on its hind legs and probably twice your size has eased your anxiety about that. 

You have a mean sweet tooth. 

And you’re single. Have been for the last year or so. 

“And not looking to change that anytime soon.” You reiterate, tossing him a look. 

Toji holds his hands up in feigned defeat. “I wasn’t plannin’ on it, sweetheart.” 

You’ve warmed up to his pet names, albeit against your will. But you’re there. The both of you harmonize light-hearted laughter. Fitting together like missing puzzle pieces.

“Your eyes are so green.” 

A rather obvious observation of your own, after a few moments of comfortable silence. 

As if your eyes don’t bend time. 

Toji catches his breath before responding. 

“They are…your kids could have ‘em too, if you want.” 

You burst into another fit of giggles. Unknowingly driveling rogue pastry on your chin. Babbling on and on about how ridiculous he is. And how cheesy his pick up lines are.

Meanwhile, you’re sitting there all high powered and intelligent. With a smile that makes him want to be a better man than he is. 

…and pastry all over your chin. 

Yeah. 

He’s going to marry you one day. 

Toji reaches over and swipes the macaroon off your chin. A sharp gasp tumbles from your lips, staring at his fingers. Which Toji slips into his mouth. 

He’s a betting man and would put money down on the fact that the dessert tastes exponentially better off of your skin. 

“Toji!!” 

“What else can I do for you?” Each word more smug than the last. 

“You could’ve told me I had food on my face!” Bunny lines along your nose deepen when you frown and Toji’s cock throbs to life. 

“Why?” The mechanic shrugs. “I wanted to lick it off instead.” 

The choppy inhale is music to Toji’s ears. You avoid him. Like the plague. Peeling your gaze away and planting it on the side window. Under the guise of people watching. 

But Toji knows better. 

He doesn’t miss the way you struggle to swallow your last bite. Or your thighs coming together so aggressively beneath the small table, rip tides break the surface of his Americano. 

“I felt that, baby.” Toji leans in. Shameless about the way he scans your face. 

Your lips should be outlawed.

The bottom one is marginally fuller than the top, so it naturally hangs a bit open. Inviting the most vile thoughts from his cock. Toji’s rational mind went to sleep the second you climbed into his passenger seat, princess. 

“What?” You sputter, gulping down the rest of your U.K. cloudy cappuccino, or whatever. 

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.” Your voice is steady, but the fidgeting and cagey eye contact hold the truth. 

Oh, really? 

“You’re squirming in your seat.” Toji counters, unblinking. Filling as much of your personal space as he can without tipping over. 

“Quick to cross your legs—“

“Toji!” 

Is your underwear as sticky as your face is flushed? Saliva pools in one direction, warm pre-cum pools in the other. 

“You are so out of—“

“All that talkin’ and you haven’t denied it once, doll.”

Toji’s palm digs into his crotch underneath the table. You are fucking his brain smooth with the raspberry blush along your nose and high cheeks. Sure, the sarcasm and ball-busting is hot, but this? 

The Career Woman suddenly so flustered and shy? 

You’re already thawed out. All he needs to do is dive in. 

Toji blinks back to reality when you rocket up from the table at warped speed. Your fingers clumsily fondle the zipper of your purse. 

“Excuse me for a minute.” You’re halfway to the restroom stalls by the end of your sentence.

The mechanic lasers down to the serpentine curve of your hips. Your plump, perky ass is just begging to be handled. It’s a felony, the way your work dress hugs your body. 

Is he really going to do this?

Heat slams into his groin. Wave after wave of lust slowly chipping at his teetering self-control. 

You might slap him. 

Call him a goddamn pervert. 

…and just the thought of either of those things makes his dick beat against his zipper. 

Fuck it. 

Toji is slick, how he maneuvers his way over to the restrooms. Both single-use stalls occupied, he walks up to you muttering some kind of pep talk to yourself. 

“Get your shit together.” You spit out. 

Amused, Toji leans against the wall behind you. Curious about where this cute little speech is going to go. 

“He’s a rando you met at a mechanic shop. For fuck sake, are you that horny?”

“Sounds like it, baby.” Toji takes the liberty to answer. You whip your head around and crawl out of your skin. 

Eyes wider than a newborn kitten. Mouth gaping as if you’re trying to show off how much you can handle. Toji swallows a groan. He can’t lose control. Not a chance. He has to savor his first taste of you like this. And every taste after that. 

Because, the weather in Hell is a balmy 0 degrees Fahrenheit and you are his, now. 

“I—uh, I—“ Your eyes dart over to the poor soul opening the bathroom door in slow motion. 

You think you’ve found an out, gorgeous?

Toji is faster and bigger than you are. Gripping the handle of the open door, ushering you into his new lair. Still choking on the shock of him catching your admission, you look to your left and right before diving into the empty bathroom. 

“Toji I…” 

Your back hits the wall and eyes settle on your hands. Shifty and nervous. Toji palms himself at the sight of you caged in like this. 

He’s disgusting, he knows that. 

And normally, he would ask permission. Being a gentleman and all. 

But there’s something too alluring about the way you’re trembling right now. The obvious conflict written all over your face, and heaving chest…and tense thighs…

His cock can’t take another second. 

And apparently neither can you. 

Because the second his fingers cup the back of your neck and his breath grazes your mouth you crash into him. Slotting your puffy lips into his, taking him by surprise for a millisecond. 

“Oh, T-toji.” You whine into his mouth. Grasping at his shoulders that are far too wide, far too muscular for your dainty grip.

Fucking, christ. 

Hearing his name like that. 

The gorgeous, high-pitched, pathetic plea trails down his ears to his aching sex and jerks it. If his cargos were any lighter you would’ve seen the pre-pubescent mess he’s making in his pants right now. 

But they aren’t. And you don’t. 

You mewl at how Toji nips at your bottom lip. Sinking it underneath his teeth until its swells to his liking. Melting beneath his large grasp, currently riding the dizzying lines of your hips and ass. 

“You taste fucking good, baby.” Toji mumbles into your warm cavern. Licking along the warm, soft ridges. 

“Ah-T..god.” You pull away and dive into his neck. Attempting to hide your utterly fucked out daze, but he won’t let you. 

Toji palms your ass with a tenth of his strength. You yelp and jump into his arms. He takes advantage of the momentum and lifts you high on his waist. Temporarily forcing you to look down on him.

Glassy eyed. Kiss abused lips. Panting and heaving. Cupping his face like your hands were made to. 

And something tight clenches in Toji’s chest. It takes a moment for him to shake it off, but it existed.

He’ll revisit that later.

“You look good up there, babydoll.” He pants, before setting you down on the sink ledge. He catches your chin in his hand before you turn away. Rooting you in place. 

“I…Toji.” 

Moaning his name like you’re begging for him to start and stop all at once. 

Your eyes descend to his lips. Watching the smirk blossoming across his face. Distracted enough not to notice his free hand shove up your dress in one swift motion. 

Your thighs recognize his authority and melt wide open for him. He kisses your tiny whimpers while nestling between them. 

“Mmmgh g-god please.” 

“This why you were so bratty this mornin baby?” 

Toji’s index and long fingers stroke your soaked, clothed core. Thin lace panties plastered to your warm sex. You wind your hips into his fingers. Batting your eyelashes up at him as if he’s going to give you what you want so easily.

He hovers his lips over yours. Pulling away each time you lunge forward for a kiss. Pouty and frustrated, you dig your nails into his neck and grind along his stationary fingers. 

“T-Toji, please…I’m so..ahh.”

“Needy cunt just wanted some attention, mm?” 

His fingers slip past your opening, and you offer up a soprano moan that shatters to stardust. 

Hedonistic noises fill the spaces between both of your punched out gasps. You’re fucking tight. Gummy, slick walls clamp down around his knuckles when he curves up to pet your pleasure spot. 

The steel pipe between his legs throbs against his thigh. Demanding friction. But one hand is cupping your chin and the other is so pussy drunk an army couldn’t pry his fingers away. 

“T..I—I’m oh fuck I—“

Toji bites down on your bottom lip. And you clench around him. Gushing more of your sweet arousal into his palm. And he damn near laps it up with his greedy tongue. 

“Shhh baby,” he coos against your jaw. 

“Can’t have everyone hearing the Executive getting fucked open by some mechanic’s hands can you?” 

There is a delicious irony in you treating him like a punching bag no more than an hour ago and now bucking your hips on his fingers, chasing an ever elusive high.

Sandpaper lines Toji’s throat. 

He wants nothing more than to bounce you on his cock in this bathroom. Fill you up with his cum and send you to your meetings full of him. 

But you haven’t learned your lesson yet.

“What did I promise baby?” Toji strains in your ear. His hand migrates from your chin to your neck, while his fingers ‘pick up the pace a little.’

His pretty little powerhouse. 

You babble a chorus of nothing. Unable to breathe, unable to think. Only drip. And leak. And squelch around his digits. Toji tightens the grip around your pulse point. Lulling your mouth open.  

“Talk to me, princess. What did I promise you?” He probes again, stealing air from your lungs. 

Tha—y-you would…p—point A.” Barely audible syllables tumble out of you. Ascending in pitch. Your hips reflexively try to pull away from your threatened orgasm.

“Keep going, I’m listenin.” 

“Oh fuck T..Toji?! I-Im c-im gonna—”

“I know, baby.” He smears wet kisses along your jawline. “ I can hear how messy your precious little pussy is. But I didn’t give you permission to stop. Keep going.”

Your walls spasm at his command. Followed by an angelic pitiful little whine. You’re close. So close. 

“P-P-point A to—“

“Point B.” 

Toji finishes your sentence as you reach nirvana. Full body convulsions. He slots his arms around the small of your waist. And it fits like it was molded for him. Like you were sculpted for him.

And he, for you.

The mechanic burns his gaze into your skin. Riding each choppy wave of your ecstasy. Such tiny, sexy sounds. Staccato breaths fanning his lips, his chin, his neck when you try to hide from his scrutiny. 

You are a goddamn dream. 

And his future wife.

Toji guessed it when the macaroon balanced on your chin for a full 30 seconds before he swiped it away and you accused him of defamation of character. 

But now? 

Watching you saddle this stallion of an orgasm. Clawing at his back with all the desperation of a pretty little damsel in distress. 

Distress at just his fingers, alone. 

What intoxicating melody will he unlock when he laps up the honey straight from your core? How will you gasp and moan and squirm when he single-handedly re-shapes your cunt to accommodate his size? 

He has no clue. 

But Toji will spend forever figuring you out. And mastering you.

The back of your neck fits beautifully into his grasp as he coaxes you from hiding. Pupils blown out. Cheeks flushed and warm. Tendrils matted along your forehead. Before he can speak, you beat him to the punch.

Of course you do. 

“I’ve decided,” You pant. The baseline spice returning to your grin. 

“That you might just be obsessed with me, Toji.” 

Both of you share a hushed laugh. Exchanging cotton candy breaths. But then his lips accidentally brush yours and Toji can’t help but dive in for a kiss. Fucking the warm cavern of your mouth with his tongue. 

You pull away before he’s ready, with a look on your face that makes him feel like a God. 

“I might be.” Toji whispers, partially against his will. His lips find the corner of your mouth. Careful to avoid falling victim to your pout again.

“Let’s get you to the other point B, baby.” 

The car ride to your office could make anyone queasy. 

Constant banter back and forth. Full bodied laughs. You mindlessly stroking his forearm with those angelic fingers riling his cock up as if it just now discovered women. 

You let out a small sigh, with slightly dropped shoulders when your office building comes into view. Toji doesn’t know how to interpret it. But for him? Reality is coming too quickly.

“So,” You start once the both of you are out of the car. Pretty face tilting up and Toji’s dick strains against its confines.

“What do I owe you, Mr. Fushiguro?” 

The way you say his name.

It takes the will of God for Toji to bite back his original response.

“Nothin, doll.” He’s wearing the same, dumb, love-struck face Choso wears on a daily basis. Shockingly, Toji couldn’t care less. 

“The tires just needed air. Choso will drop it off in an hour.” 

He would do it himself. But the urge to park in an empty lot and abuse the fuck out of his cock until a shred of clarity re-settles in his mind is a tad bit overwhelming, sweetheart.

Then your mouth drops in an incredulous ‘Oh’ and all Toji can picture is ruining the back of your throat. How pretty you are going to be wretching around his girth. Gasping for air. Choking on his cum. 

“Toji. Fushiguro.” You like using his name, don’t you?

“You held me hostage for a whole morning for some air—“

Toji kisses the rest of your complaints off your tongue. And you whine. Slot open for him with no resistance. Because under all that irritation and sarcasm, buried within the Trojan Horse, lays your supple, delectable submission. 

And he will take every opportunity to taste it. 

“I had a great time on our first date, babydoll.” Toji rasps against your swollen lips. 

The raging erection is threatening to embarrass him. There’s not enough restraint in the world to be around you any longer. Toji nestles your voice in his back pocket. The two of you watch each other with wordless, taken aback smiles as he takes slow steps toward his sports car.

Before the mechanic sinks into the driver’s seat, he makes a promise.

“Can’t wait for our second date, Mrs. Fushiguro!”

[slutt4ellie]

Fated Hearts Start With Fire

PT5 - Holidays Hearts

masterslist

PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3 // PART 4

Moving to a new city is tough, but it’s even harder when your roommate is a dick.

Summery - After you invite Ellie to travel back with you to your home town she immediately denies. But after a bit of convincing everything works well.

- - (It goes straight from part 4 so re-read if you gotta)

Warnings -> Miscommunication (Mia & Reader) / Readers in a relationship / Reader definitely self sabotages 🗣️ / JEALOUSLY / TENSION / Loser!Ellie if you squint? / Readers dad is weird idk? /Kissing / Cheating 😬 / Eventual smut / (Lmk if I missed anything)

WC: 5.6k

(Not proofread!)

“No!”

Ellie all but laughs in your face. Going to your hometown? Literally alone with nothing but your family and friends.

Yeah no fucking way.

She all much rather stay all alone in your shared apartment, beats introducing herself to a fuck ton of new people.

Yet her reply from your point of view has you confused? Because why not come? It 100% beats staying home alone in your shared apartment. She’s just being stubborn at this point??

“Ellie come on!” You say putting your hands in a praying position, trying to emphasize you really do want her to come.

“No dude!” Ellie again immediately denies shaking her head. She’s not going to fold under pressure. At least she’ll try not to!

“Why??” You say a whining tone leaking.

The foundation Ellie just put up. The one where she’s not going to fold? That’s definitely breaking as soon as that tone leaked.

But she regains and starts adding more support, she just shakes her head while not breaking eye contact with you? Trying to prove that stupid fucking tone didn’t affect her.

“Because!- just invite your girlfriend??” Ellie says.

That sentence does actually bring you back to reality. Fuck you haven’t even asked Mia yet, yet you’re practically begging for Ellie to join you. Hands cuffed in a prayer and all.

“I-I will! But Mia probably has plans with her family? So why don’t you come?” You say looking as her a pout now apparent on your bottom lip.

Ellie groans, her hand sliding down her face.

No, no, no.

“No..” Ellie sighs.

“Im not intruding on your family shit because mine aren’t available.” Ellie again shakes her head. Despite the fact your words are actually getting to her. She’s a adamant on denying, at least for as long as she can.

“Yeah but you’re not intruding? My parents hardly care? They’d probably be happy to see a friend i’ve made here! I think they think i’m lying” You laugh trying to ease Ellie’s discomfort about the whole situation. Trying to prove to her that you really want her to come.

You can tell the whole family situation is definitely rough. Because she’s told you a lot about herself but she’s pretty prominent about not mentioning that.

A clear example is when you guys you first started actually being friends, you almost instantly told her about your family, trying to make a perfect opening for her to share insight on hers. But instead she just shook it off.

She basically stopped talking and didn’t continue to press further into the conversation.

“Thank you- but no thank you.” Ellie again denies this time waving her hand. Making a valid point she doesn’t want to.

“I’m okay staying here and just chilling.” Ellie smiles at you.

You frown.

“Ellie.” You talk.

“Yeah?” Ellie says.

“Please.” You again beg. Now the desperate act is coming out.

You don’t even know why you want her to come so bad. Well sorta..

The main thing which is actively pushing you to invite Ellie, is no other than Mia.

It’s selfish. 100%.

But you literally don’t want to face her anymore. It’s to awkward and maybe if Ellie comes it’s going to push her away? Make her go enjoy Christmas with her family.

At least that’s what you’ll hope.

“Why do you want me to come so bad?” Ellie single handily rips the words from your train of thought.

And now you’re derailed.

You feel like the train just crashed into a dead end because you have almost nothing to defend with.

You’re not leading with the fact you’re avoiding your girlfriend. But it’s also weird why you’re so alluded with Ellie coming back to your hometown to spend Christmas with you and your family.

“Fine-don’t worry about it..“ You just groan, a clear annoyed tone as you begin to walk away. Which Ellie picked up immediately.

You know it was 100% pity and weird you relied on full guilt tripping, but you’re helping out Ellie at the end of the day..! Just giving her a light push.

You lightly close your eyes as you walk down the hall.. You didn’t know if it would work but then again you never know…

It was a solid two steps before there was a light grip on your wrist.

As you turn your eyes are met with green ones. Ellie’s looking at you, and just by the way her eyes are scanning through yours and no longer have a presence of unsureness. You know she 100% folded.

“O-okay i’ll come-“ Ellie sighs looking down, hand still on your wrist.

“Yeah??” You say with an excited tone. “You’re not just saying that.” You decide to clarify. I mean you hope she’s not just saying it.

“No..no- I just don’t wanna like intrude.” Ellie’s close to you.

Close enough to the point it’s falling into territory none of you are used to, but you both seem to be to distracted on a different fact right now. The one that has Ellie coming to your hometown.

“You’re not?” You smile at her to which she nods, slowing sighing.

“You did that on purpose.” Ellie tilts her head and smiles.

“I have zero clue what you’re talking about??” You say looking at Ellie. You know what she’s talking about? I mean you 100% guilt tripped her, having her feel a sense of guilt. But you’re avoiding that!

Ellie dramatically turns around and huffs. “Fine!”

You laugh and grab her wrist now mimicking Ellie’s actions. A perfect mirror of what just happened.

Ellie also laughs now that your mimicking her. “You’re so dramatic??”

You shake your head. “Am not!”

Ellie laughs “You fucking huffed then walked down the hall!”

Ellie points with her opposite hand to avoid the possibility of her forcefully making you let go of her wrist. Something she’s doing on purpose.

“You were being annoying-!” You say pushing you finger in the middle of her collar bone.

“Ellie please come with me!” Ellie says mocking you, which means her voice strained into a whining one that unfortunately appeared as a weird fucking whimper..

Her smile fades when her brain trails into a thought process allowing her to actually dwell on what she said.

So now her face is turning red and the laugh she was just previously ensuing on was dying into an uncomfortable awkward silence.

“Huh!?” You whisper yell straight in Ellie’s directions. A silent understanding that Mia’s still currently asleep in your bed, having you want to do anything you really can not to wake her up right now.

“I-I didn’t even mean it like that freak?” Ellie groans, a desperate attempt to hide how embarrassed she is.

“When did I ever even fucking say ‘Please come with me Ellie!’” Your tone again now leaking with a whine.

Ellie actually needs to go to bed.

Because maybe it’s the fact she’s tired, and honestly a little sleep deprived.

Or that your hand is still looped around her wrist.

But those 5 whiny words shouldn’t have caused an ache in the middle of her legs she couldn’t ignore.

Fuck.

“Whatever i’m going to bed..!” Ellie says now being the first to take your grip away from her wrist. Something she tried to avoid a mere minutes ago.

“Alright, alright.” You smile.

“Goodnight..!” You add on a few seconds later.

Ellie practically rushes to her room. Because it’s extremely fucking evident the little back and forth banter between you two had did not have the same affect on you which it had on her..!

Ellie needs to get fucking sleep. Get her mind to stop racing..

You two are just friends, she knows that.

The last thing she wants is to have yet another Cat situation.

✧☾༻✩༺☽✧

When you woke up and an arm was still presently draped over you, your mind raced.

It’s like you fully forgot the events of last night.

The ones with Mia..

And shamefully you wished it stayed that way.

The worst part is you don’t even know why?

Mia is fucking great, you’ve had almost zero reason to want to avidly push her away. She’s never done anything remotely mean and last night she was perfect.

Saying the right things, making sure you were comfortable and putting herself last. Making sure you enjoyed yourself first before she was even a fucking thought..?

So why do you wish you were waking up in a bed which is just full of you. Empty is something you prayed you’d never feel yet right now it’s all you’re praying for to happen.

And why?

Not even you know?

That’s something that keeps ending with dead ends.

Mia hums against your neck as her parted lips stay on them. She’s awake which isn’t a surprise, you’re little ruffles you made as you awakened probably had her eyes fall open not to long after.

“Hi..” She says, sighing, her eyes finally opening, and for the first time since last night her ocean blue eyes are rested on your face. Gaze refusing to break.

“Hey..” You smile. It’s fake, but it’s the best you can do as of now.

She leans in and gives you a light kiss on your cheek.

“Sleep okay?” Mia ask as she observes your face. Making sure you’re not lying or something.

“Mhm.? All good- what about you” You say trying to change the subject, trying to get her eyes off you even if it’s just for a second.

Because regardless of you lying or not her gaze is something you’re not enjoying right now?

“Yeah. It was good, last night was really nice. You were really nice.” Mia smiles kissing your cheek once again..!

“It was!” You say a fake excited tone accidentally making an appearance, luckily for you, Mia must have been to focused on kissing you, because now it’s going to your jaw, then neck.

Last night felt like boundary both of you overstepped. Because instead of literally just a week prior, Mia isn’t hesitating to kiss your neck. She’s assuming your okay with it.

And it’s not like it’s making you uncomfortable and you want her off of you, it’s just something that you wish maybe wasn’t happening right now. So you talk.

“M-mia can we talk..? Just quickly.” You say as you voice cracks..

It’s about time you give her insight on the fact you fucking invited Ellie instead of her to your parents, that being said though it’s not like she’s unwelcome to come.

She’s completely allowed. It’s just the probably odd you didn’t hesitate to invite your fucking roommate…

“Uh-oh?” Mia chuckles pulling back from your neck. She assumes you just being funny or something? That fades quick. Because when she sees you replied with a nervous smile, she takes your outlook, now becoming openly nervous..

“Fuck what’s wrong?” Mia says looking at you.

“Just Ellie and I-“ You try to think of how to word it properly. But currently nothings coming to your head. It feels like a broken electrical circuit no longer getting responses.

Mias smile fades when she hears the mention of Ellie. Because why the fuck did you say it like you and Ellie are some ‘thing’. Or even like you did something?

Mia would never suspect you of cheating- she doesn’t think you cheated. It’s just the sentence ‘Just Ellie and I” Could have a shit ton of add ons? That’s what she didn’t like.

“I-I invited Ellie to go back to my hometown for Christmas..and i’m sorry- because I know I should have asked you first. And-“ You shove your head in your hands embarrassed at the fact you feel like you could cry. You know if you continue you will cry.

Yet don’t get anything twisted, Mia felt a strong pang of jealously- but you and her have been dating for a solid month, she didn’t except you to ask her to come to your literal home town for Christmas, at the end of the day she knew you actually didn’t owe her anything. So even though she’s not to fond of the fact you’ll be going back to your hometown with Ellie, she knows you two are friends.

And that offers comfort.

“Hey-hey it’s fine..” Mia softly chuckles bringing your hands down from your face and kissing them lightly. “I have plans with my family- I assumed we weren’t gonna go head first into plans with family’s.”

“Oh..” Now you feel stupid because you were about to bawl over something that definitely wasn’t that deep. “I just-“ You start but Mia waves her hand dismissively.

“It’s fine. I swear.” Mia smiles kissing the corner of your lips..

“Plus, we have so many future Christmas’ and shit. This is just one out of many.” Mia says.

“Right?” You say in a breathless sigh now starting to calm down. “Now I feel stupid!” You chuckle and Mia shakes her head.

“No don’t!” Mia kisses you, you respond by slotting your lips right back on hers enveloping in a passionate kiss.

And that’s how you and Mia left it. Obviously you texted a lot but now it was time to go to your home town and you sorta just wanted to disconnect.

Because not only were you going with Ellie but you’re finally going to be able to see your family after a few months so you were beyond fucking excited. With a twinge of jealousy!

You and Ellie got on the plane no problem but now sitting down you can see Ellie’s hands fidget with plane seat buckle. A common sign she was nervous.

Learning Ellie’s nervous ticks was easy, because she has three she’ll always do.

Number one fidgeting with something close by.

If not that then number two. Playing with her index and middle.

And finally biting her bottom lip.

You see her top teeth slowly sit on her bottom lip.

She was nervous but you knew why.

One thing Ellie strongly emphasized that she fucking hated flights, she hated heights since she was a kid and that being said she was completely okay with the fact she’s never been on a plane.

“I don’t get how you can be scared of flights but you wanna go to space..?” You tease looking at her.

“Fuck you.” Ellie groans. Unlike her joking tone this does come out as more cold? Which you know why, she’s trying to hide that she’s extremely nervous.

“Wow! I feel like I just got flashbacks..!” You smile nudging her.

“Fuck off man.” Ellie smiles, now she’s looking at you trying to avoid the fact they’re taking off in a few minutes.

Her eyes just trail back and forth for a solid 20 seconds before looks down and clears her throat.

“And spaceships are different.” Ellie says.

“Mhm?” You say looking at her.

“Then imagine we’re on a spaceship?” You add and Ellie laughs.

“It’d be a pretty shitty spaceship.” Ellie sighs and then the intercom comes on announcing the plane is ready for take off.

“Fuck.” Ellie sits up.

You hold out your hand not thinking much about it before it happens. Because you’re just being a fucking good friend! Nothing deep, nor something to look into!

Ellie also doesn’t think much, because it didn’t take long before she sat her hand open on yours intertwining her fingers. She hates how fucking fast her nerves relaxed after you and her were holding fucking hands.

Because just like that her heart stopped racing and the feeling of taking off was the last thing on her mind.

It felt like a blacked out room with a spotlight shined on just you two.

Ellie knows she’s being weird, she thinks it’s the fact that since your roommates you’ll always be in a close proximity, so when building a bond the friendship lines get foggy.

Something that happened with Cat, and something which is happening with you.

The biggest factor on the plan which was weird was the fact you and Ellie held hands for a solid 30 minutes after the plane took off.

And you don’t really know why? It just happened. Everything with you two just seems to mistakenly happen.

It’s not like you were doing it purposefully, it was just after the 10 minutes it was a bit hard to let go of her hand smoothly so you two just watched movies holding hands a bit after the plane took off.

There was an underlining of comfort as well? When both of you are together there’s something you can’t really avoid?

You’re just good friends in that sense.

Nothing weird about that?..

Plus after you two got off the plane and through security it felt stupid to mention!

Talking about it would have just been more awkward and unnecessary!

So that’s what you two both purposefully did? Not mention it.

You and Ellie both just shuffled your things in the trunk of taxi before you guys get into the back seat..

When you tell the taxi driver the location and your gaze is completely focused on him, Ellie finally looks at you.

The moment on the plane was weird, and Ellie didn’t fully understand.

The last thing she wants to be is a home wrecker.

But maybe you two were being friendly, she’s seen a shit ton of friends hold hands, you guys might just be shifting into a physical friendship and nothing is wrong with that!

At least she rather come up with that solution instead of maybe expanding on the fact she might be falling for yet another roommate which at this point is getting fucking old.

The Cat situation should have ruined that possibility yet here she fucking is.

You finally turn your gaze to the back seat no longer focused on the man and quickly noticed how Ellie’s gaze was straight on you.

She tried to smoothly clear her throat and look away but you just chuckled, again not taking it as serious as she was.

“You good.” You ask.

“Just nervous I guess?” Ellie wasn’t lying but it was also a smooth excuse to hide the fact she was just hardcore staring at you.

“My parents are nice- promise” You look at her offering a smile to ease Ellie’s nerves.

Ellie feels like she should ask, like she needs to ask.

Because after what happened with her parents she just rather avoid it if she can.

“You’re out to them right? Or like no.” Ellie ask her voice cracking which she clears once again.

“Oh yeah! I literally came out at like 10 because I wouldn’t shut up about how hot the Elizabeth girl from Pirates of the Caribbean was?” You laugh which also makes Ellie laugh along.

Well at least Ellie doesn’t have to lie to your parents or some shit. “K-yeah cool.” Ellie nods.

“You good?” You ask looking at Ellie.

“Mhm- i’m good” Ellie says looking at you.

“Okay” You tilt your head before looking out the window.

Seeing your old town has put you into the realization that nothings really changed. The shops stayed the same, with the exception of a few new ones you hadn’t noticed before.

You can tell somethings prioritizing Ellie’s mind but you rather not push or question it? She seems to be an overall private person and practically forcing her out of her comfort zone seems rude.

You just decided to get comfortable in your seat for a few minutes before you arrive.

Which really didn’t take long, because soon you’re pulling into the house you called home for so many years, and instead of walking in alone, or with Alex and Jess. This time it’s you and Ellie.

You just grab your suitcase exiting the car.

“I can grab that?” Ellie points to your suitcase as her left hand grips hers.

“It’s fine- if anything I should be carrying yours.” You chuckle at her request.

“You’ll be hugging your family and shit? I’ll just grab it weirdo” Ellie fully takes it into her own hand reaching her right hand forward to grab your suitcase.

“All right, all right- thank you.” You say walking up to the front door.

And even though it’s your family your mind is racing about whatever the fuck is going to transfer. You just hope it’s positive.

But before you can open the door, your mom does.

Her eyes are excited and she immediately lunged forward to hug no other than you..!

“You’re home!!” You’re mom says while hugging and kissing all over your cheeks earning a stupid chuckle from Ellie which she “smoothly” covered with a cough.

“Yeah!” You say, you barley hid the fact you’re extremely embarrassed because it was super apparent in your tone and pink cheeks.

You mom then pulls back from you and smiles. “Who’s this!”

Your mom knows who the fuck it is, because you told her Ellie’s coming as soon as you got okay.

“H-hi!” Ellie spits out nervously, she puts down your suit case to hold out her hand. An invitation for your mom to shake it.

Ellie’s super fucking nervous. Because after her relationship with her parents came down with a big tumble, so opening up to other people’s seemed off.?

Like she couldn’t properly function, it almost felt like she was constantly on thin ice.

Plus Ellie doesn’t really know if you told your mom about the shitty roommate. Which would be horrible because she’s the fucking shitty roommate?! She wouldn’t even be shocked if you did? Fuck she was horrible.

“Ah we don’t need handshakes!” Your mom fully takes Ellie by the shoulder and hugs her tightly. Having Ellie drop the other suitcase to her feet.

Ellie doesn’t know what to do other then reciprocate it, so that’s all she does, just wraps her arms around your mom?

“It was Ellie right.?” Your mom says her gaze not leaving Ellie’s.

Ellie just nervously nods. She’s never had someone be extremely nice without even knowing her.

Which she’s now starting to understand where you got it.

Because even on the day when you first moved in, you weren’t automatically mean, even though Ellie was rude for the whole first day, you managed to put up with it before finally snapping back on the second day.

“Yeah..!” Ellie smiles awkwardly stepping back.

“It’s nice to meet you-” Ellie signals to you about to continue the conversation.

Then your dad walks out. He’s a stocky man, a bit scary looking, with permanent furrowed eyebrows.

You’d like to say it’s all some facade and he’s a real softie under the rough skin.

But no.

He’s always will silently judge, somethings he’s done your whole life, giving his thoughts despite not really asking for it, he’ll always supply it.

“Hey kid.” You’re dad nods a head to you. He’s not a hugger. A drastic change from someone like your mother. You don’t really know how they ended up together.

“Hey dad..!” You smile and look at him.

Your dad doesn’t reply after that, he turns his attention to Ellie.

“This the girlfriend?” He says his eyes trailing up and down her, you can tell he again is fucking judging.

Yet Ellie’s not even your girlfriend! So he’s judging her for no reason?..

“N-no that’s Mia- this is Ellie.” You say directed to your dad despite you looking at Ellie, her face is now red and she seems embarrassed.

Fuck this is awkward.

“I-It’s nice to meet you.” Ellie smiles awkwardly at your dad. She feels she should shake his hand yet his gaze has her fall nervous. So she doesn’t. She just occupies both hands with the suitcases

“Quite young for a tattoo hm?” You dad says clearing his throat, slowly turning his attention to Ellie’s tattoo.

You never understood why your dad says or does some things? But either way he does and you can’t really change it, this conversation between him and Ellie, it’s one of the ones where you don’t understand why the fuck he’s doing it.

“Oh uh-“ Ellie’s cut off by your words.

“We should really settle in. The flight was long..!” You chuckle a desperate attempt to clear the awkwardness which is looming.

Ellie nods and looks at your parents. “It was really nice to meet you both.” Ellie nods towards them before the everyone starts to head inside.

After you showed Ellie the spare bedroom it didn’t take long till there was a light knock on your bedroom who you can only assume is her.

She did tell you once she was done unpacking she’ll come to your room.

“Come in?” Your voice echos through the bedroom as you sit on your queen bed.

As you guess Ellie’s auburn hair and green eyes come poking through the door.

“Oh i’m the fucking nerd?” Ellie immediately says with a sarcastic chuckle.

She starts walking into your room before sitting on your bed a decent amount of distance between you and her. Her eyes trail throughout your room and she scouts the many different movie posters, books, journals scattered throughout your bedroom.

“Fuck off..!” You chuckle looking back at Ellie.

“No- you fucking bullied me for my space shit” Ellie says laughing. “I get to bully you!” Ellie says pointing right at you.

“Because that’s objectively nerdy! You like space! I just like reading and writing.” You try to defend yourself.

“Yeah, yeah nerd.” Ellie scoffs which earns a little smile from you despite you actually wanting to laugh. “Whatever makes you sleep at night.!”

You roll your eyes and look at Ellie. “Im gonna kick you out?”

Ellie chuckles and shakes her head. “Okay i’m sorry!”

It’s a bit of silence before you finally speak again.

“Get settled in okay?” You ask looking at her.

She bites her lip, looking down before shortly nodding. “Oh yeah, all good.” Ellie offers you a smile to try and distract you from any red flags that she might be uncomfortable.

Yet it didn’t really help or work, you noticed right away.

“You alright?” You ask looking at her.

“Yeah- no good. I’m happy you invited me.” Ellie wasn’t lying at the last part. She was super happy she decided to come with you, it’s just-

“My dad?” You question looking at Ellie. You basically finished her thoughts.

“I-Did I say something wrong- because people- he just seemed-“ As soon as you questioned it Ellie’s mouth wasn’t going to stop. She was ranting.

So you took it into your own hands and looked at her.

“Ellie I swear he’s just weird and like that with everyone. Like i’m his daughter and you saw how weird he is with me!” You say looking at her. Despite not being even the single bit religious you prayed her words offered comfort.

Ellie let’s out a show sigh of relief. “Fuck okay good! I thought I said something” Ellie laughs lightly.

“Like the tattoo comment was-“ Ellie starts.

“Fucking dumb!” You tilt your head.

“Your tattoo is cool.” You add on chuckling.

It took about ten seconds before your hand started making its way to travel over the different intricate details.

“Yeah?” Ellie ask going a tad bit closer. Both your shoulders now touching as her arm is hovered above both of your thighs.

“Mhm?” You say looking at her, she slowly mirrors your movements.

And in that moment you know if either of you decide to even lean in just a little further your noses would touch.

You start to think what’d you do, something you’ve purposefully deterred your mind from going. Blocking off those openings before they could even get through. But now they were flowing and you couldn’t stop it?

Like if she leaned in would you do the same...?Would you kiss Ellie bac-

What the fuck, you have a fucking girlfriend.

And you couldn’t sworn Ellie’s eyes were fluttering shut, a sign to back the fuck up. And that’s what you did.

“Uh- dinners probably like basically ready.” You stand up awkwardly rolling your hands down your clothes an attempt for them to appear more straight.

While also making an effort to avoid her gaze without making it look more forceful?

Ellie also stands up, the main bit of her head being filled with confusion- because why did it seem like you wanted to kiss her two seconds ago, and now you can barley look at her.

“Right..cool.” Ellie sounded just the slightest bit immature but in her defence you made her feel stupid? Like was she interpreting that whole situation wrong.

“What..?” You ask, almost like she’s crazy for feeling embarrassed.

“Didn’t say anything” Ellie gives a fake smile before opening your bedroom door.

When she opens the door you walk through first and you hear her trailing after you.

You and Ellie hardly talked through dinner, little chip ins from both of you, but when you did the conversation was usually to other people.

So if you were talking i’d be to your parents, avoiding Ellie, and vice versa.

The main reason is because it just so happens both of your minds are occupied from the fact you two almost kissed.

It was like that for at least a little. Till your dad decided to talk.

“So Ellie? What’s your family doing for Christmas.” His mouth is still in the middle of chewing food, his hand reaches for his glass and he tilts it back swallowing back a large swig of wine.

Ellie finishes what’s in her mouth before talking. “Not really sure?”

She says it casually. Like not knowing what your family’s up to is the normal, yet for her it is?

“Why’s that..?” He says rubbing the back of his hand on his outer lips, getting any excess droplets of wine or even food.

“Honey.?” Your eyes shift from Ellie’s uncomfortable gaze to your moms. She’s clearly trying to get him to back off from the conversation, yet he keeps going.

“What- were taking a kid in for Christmas so I’m just overall interested what her parents are doing? You know as in why she’s joining us?” He shrugs, It’s like the fact he’s opening up his home gives some moral right to know?

And for that reason you can tell your dad won’t back off.

Not till her gets an answer that is.

“Dad?..” You say looking at him shaking your head.

Now Ellie’s uncomfortable, because at least in her mind she feels everyone wants to know a little sob story as to why she isn’t with her parents right now.

In stead she’s with her roommates parents.

Ellie just clears her throat. Her eyes are noticeably getting glossy and that’s her cue to leave.

“Sorry excuse me..” Ellie wipes the napkin down her lips and silently pulls back from the pulled in chair. She makes her exit b-lining straight for the bathroom.

Once Ellie’s gone you groan at your dad. “Seriously?” You clearly annoyed and he picks it up. But instead he just shrugs?

“What did I say? I simply asked a question” He says.

“Which she didn’t want to answer!” You’re now always pulling back your chair making an open exit for you. “Fuck.”

He tsk silently. “Language.”

“I’m gonna go check on her.” You sigh starting to walk down the open hallway.

You quickly turn back to your mom. “Thanks for dinner.”

She nods in response while muttering something to your dad. You hope it’s putting him in his fucking place.

You don’t know if that man just doesn’t have social cues but fuck sometimes he needs to read a room..

It didn’t take long to find Ellie, she only knew where one of the 2 bathrooms were so once you heard distance sniffling in the one planted beside your bedroom you knock on the door.

“Mhm?” Ellie’s voice try’s to come out as full and clear but it’s sounded more desperate and sad.

“Can I come in?” You ask.

“I’m okay..? Trust me?” Ellie says clearing her throat.

You can tell she’s not okay. But mentioning that didn’t seem important, so you just nodded in understanding before talking.

“Okay well can we talk, even if your okay..?” You ask.

A little sigh comes out then a click of the lock comes through.

You open the door and you see Ellie’s eyes are red.

After seeing that sight you hugged her.

Ellie wraps her arms under your arms which are looping around her neck. She hesitantly put her chin on your shoulder as you did the same.

“I’m okay..” Ellie sighs in your shoulder.

“Mhm..” You just nod against her shoulder.

“Sorry my dads a dick.” You say.

“Mine probably worse?” Ellie let’s out a chuckle, it’s dry and forced.

You pull back and look at her eyes.

You can feel her arms trail down your back finding a resting spot on your waist.

“I swear I don’t cry a lot.” Ellie chuckles once more. This time sounding a bit more real.

“That’s becoming hard to believe.?” You say tilting your head, Your hands come from around her neck and sit on her cheeks wiping any left over tears.

Ellie’s grip on your waist tightens just a little, she doesn’t want you to pull back but she knows what she’s doing right now, what she wants to happen, She knows it isn’t right.

Either way she can’t control her eyes from glancing at your lips..

She looked at them for a few seconds before glancing back at your eyes.

She sees how your eyes are now glancing back and forth between her eyes and lips..

Without thinking she presses a soft kiss to your lips holding your cheek..

A/N -> BOOOOOO CHEATER 👎🏽👎🏽👎🏽👎🏽

I actually don’t know what the fuck to write for the AN! But I really did enjoy writing this chapter, and i have so much planned for the next one 😋

i promise i won’t take as long 🙏🙏🙏 (maybe)

I’m just so fucking busy with school and work, so this happens to always be the last thing on my mind.

I’ll try to be consistent with summer but then again i’m insanely busy in that time period too?

Other then that I’m gonna start working on hearts over hierarchy

happy pride month btw!!

and that’s all, hope you enjoyed reading this 😈

(Like and reblogs are so appreciated!)

Taglist - @a-little-bit-of-everybody @bready101 @shiimer @boobdrug @amberputh @macaroni676 @soupycloud @seraphicsentences @eringranola @mikellie

[penny-anna]

on reflection my single biggest issue w Dot & Bubble is like. what was with the slugs?

to be clear this has nothing to do w the social messaging. on a metaphorical level I understand the slugs. it's like 1) the ugly monster lurking in the background of their society that they're all too blinkered to notice. 2) a society like Finetime will eventually devour itself (this is also represented by the ease with which Lindy leaves Ricky to die)

but on the literal SFF level. where did the Dot get the slugs and, more importantly, why giant slugs, when it's clearly capable of just headshotting everyone whenever it wants? the moment when the Dot itself turned on Lindy kinda jarred me out of the story bcos like okay well. why didn't it just do that to everyone in the first place? it felt like a shifting of the goalposts.

this is a pretty small gripe bcos i think the metaphor being solid is more important but i'd have liked a clearer explanation for what was going on. i think the whole thing would have been more coherent if the slugs were, as Lindy speculated, from the wilderness outside the city? idk. just needed some patching over narratively.

[imaginespazzi]

i wanna get on the pazzi train so bad but paige moves so weird that i want better for azzi. flirting with someone on live, entertaining tiktoks of people thirsting over you, idk it's just mad weird and it makes me think there's no way they're together and if they are then azzi's putting up with a lot of shit and i don't like that.

Stay off the train 🙏🏾😑

You know I was gonna ignore all this Jada-Paige commotion (beyond how it related to my Kazzi agenda) because I found the whole thing kinda funny (Jada's hella real for her reaction to Paige) and I'm not in the mood to get into discourse these days but then I got like three asks similar to this and so now, I needa rant because y'all piss me off

Genuinely, genuinely do y'all like either of these girls? Because this narrative is so ridiculous and disrespectful to both of them.

Paige, is literally a sweetheart. Like that girl is a golden retriever of a human being and values trust and loyalty so much. Y'all she would not hurt a fly, let alone Azzi of all people. How is her joining someone's live or liking a couple of tiktoks equal to her "moving weird?" And quite frankly if "do you guys have a shake shack in Iowa" and endless basketball schedule talk is what y'all consider flirting, then bestie I'm so sorry but I don't think you've ever had someone flirt with you before. Paige has never given anyone any reason to think that she'd ever step out on anyone and it's so unfair that people make their own assumptions based off of the literal most mundane things.

And then we get to Azzi. In what world does Azzi fucking Fudd, strong independent gorgeous successful queen, give you the impression that she'd put up with that kind of disrespect if it existed? She might be horrendously down bad enough for that girl that she'd begrudgingly take 3562 photos of her, but stay with her if she was cheating/"moving weird"? Absolutely not. She does not need your protecting or your so-called sympathy, because a) Paige isn't doing anything wrong and b) Azzi is not a fucking doormat who's "putting up with a lot shit".

I'm not going to get into it but there is implicit racism in this narrative. It happens with a lot of ir/fictional interracial couples where people think the white person in the relationship must be cheating or whatever because they can't possibly just be happy with their bipoc partner and that said partner will just put up with it because they don't know their worth.

If you don't think Pazzi are real, that's perfectly fine. I've never been one to say you have to believe in them but please, for the love of god, just use the most obvious reason which is that neither of them have outwardly confirmed a relationship. Please stop villainizing Paige and please stop infantilizing Azzi.

[glennquackmire]

I'm suuper bored right neow so here's some stuff about the diner au

-the diner is called juniors

WHICH WAS NOT MY IDEA IT WAS @/coca-coeli 's AND I THINK ITS SOO cute so I think I'm gonna stick with it if that's ok

-the shepards are in this au but they don't work in the diner or in the restaurant they work at bucks which will EITHER be pretty much the same as in the book OR one of those sea themed fish and chip places LITERALLY just because I think it would be funny if they worked there (I have more on this but I'm gonna skip to the next point)

-when I say it's a modern au I mean anytime between 2000s to now becausee idk what I wanna go with

-I mightve already said this one but Paul is the manager of the soc restaurant

-Dallas only works there because darry is making him or he's not allowed in the house but he literally cannot be trusted to cook and darry is NOT letting him near customers so he's a dish washer

-Sodapop is SO good with customers like its crazy

-Steve is the head cook and he takes it SOO seriously he runs that kitchen like the navy do NOT talk to him during rush hour he's a freak

-Two bit is USUALLY a server but he frequently gets banned from it because he likes to fuck w the customers so he spends half his time in the kitchen (he's actually secretly really good at making food)

-Bob SHOULD also be banned from even being within a 100ft distance of customers but for some reason he's not (people in his section are abt to experience hell on earth)

-actually there is a reason in this au him and Paul are cousins (no reason for this I just felt like it ngl) so he gets away w more (nepo baby)

-the restaurant doesn't really have a name,,,I was going to just go with Holdens or something but idk give me suggestions if u want

-scout is also here!!! because I love her and she's underrated.shes a line cook

-cherry is also a server for now idk I might change it and she's actually good at her job when she's not gossiping in the corner w marcia (I kinda just wanted to mention cherry I love her soo much)

-the two restaurants are located DIRECTLY across from eachother (literallythe chum bucket and krusty krab)

Ok I'm out of things to say for now I think also I haven't worked in a restaurant like ever so if any of this is like factually incorrect just remember all my info comes from bistro huddy

[dwreader]

I gotta say I'm shocked that people are saying Louis doesn't feel anything for Armand. That producer whos not Rolin Jones said Louis is falling in love with Armand while Lestat manfiests to pass judgment on him.

tbh i think there is an ambiguity which i mentioned before in my femme fatale post! femme fatales have historically been maligned for being evil manipulative heartless self-serving women often times bc they are subjugated by a powerful man and use the only power they have to achieve their aims. you can certainly interpret some of them as being completely unemotionally manipulative, they're just not the ones that interest me personally.

i think louis's motivations are complex because the situation demands it. he cannot just let himself fall head over heels in love with armand without caution bc in the previous episode armand nearly killed him and has the power to kill him & claudia at any given moment. in ep2 and for most of ep3, they clearly have a real connection and are falling for each other. like the flirtatious chemistry and lust are leaping off the screen idk i feel like you have to be blind not to recognize it but once we get to the end of ep3... the danger is now intermingled with the love/lust. they can no longer be ignored like when louis was still pretending his maker was bruce and everything was fine & dandy for him and claudia. once armand has that power over him, it makes the relationship murkier and murkier. you can't put the genie back in the bottle and revert to their "wholesome" dating phase. and the more dangerous the relationship is, the more it reminds him of lestat and all the red flags he's seeing again. i dont think its unintentional that dreamstat shows up in the bedroom when armand starts pressuring louis about companionship. cause lestat did the same thing to him in 1x01 when louis also wasn't ready (albeit in a very different way). in the museum, dreamstat shows up when armand is "apologizing" yet at the same time flexing his powers and going vintage lioncourt.

and it parallels the same consent questions btwn lestat and louis in s1 where they had a genuine courtship/romance but when push came to shove, the moment louis was forced to make the choice to actually be with lestat and accept his proposal, it was after a show of brutal violence and murder and lestat literally having killed the only friend louis had in the world. then he spends the rest of s1 wondering about paul as well. love & horror co-exist and the horror was for love. its been a very jessica chastain coded week.

[theshy1sout]

Okay, so

I finally got my bf into reading Homestuck. I was on a phone call with him as he read it at loud, voice-acting and stuff, while I was drawing. Today he reached the Dave first appearance and he discovered Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff.

You have to understand that I always thought that this comics was just a stupid joke that only Hussie understands and finds funny. Bc the moment I saw the page with the dog (you know which one) I left the comics and never looked at it again. Until today.

My boyfriend read every single page of Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff in complete silence. I asked him what's wrong, and he said "This is extremely sad". I was confused so he started explaining to me how this comics is a way little Dave was coping with trauma of leaving with his abusive brother. I didn't believe that, so I started reading the comics again and you know what?

Imagine adult Dirk, being completely understand Lord English control, going shopping with little Dave and destroying supermarket in frustration of not finding anything that Calliborn would recognize as a food, being arrested by police in process and leaving little Dave alone hidden somewhere in the shop.

Imagine little Dave being pushed from the stairs so many times by his bro, he drew pushing his bro off the stairs in revenge. Or being regularly beaten so hard and often, so he drew comics in which his brother got beaten up, shitted on and even killed.

Imagine little Dave being so hungry (bc of course brother didnt give him proper food) so he literally threw himself at a Subway sandwich machine during idk a walk with his bro probably and tried to steal some food or even just smell the actual normal food and while doing so got abandoned by his brother. Again.

Of course we can't interpret this way every single page of Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff, but come on, if you start seeing I, you cant stop sensing that every single page is either a way Dave coped with a traumatic experience or a way he kind of got revenge on his brother in a way his brother wouldn't understand and notice and beat him up for doing so.

I searched internet for so long and can't find a single person who would interpret it this way. Am I wrong though??

It gets better. As we know, Dave from universe B also drew this comic. And we even got a directly explain to us interpretation: he started drawing it as a simple comic (probably to cope with the loneliness) and then when Batterwitch became a real danger and he saw that but couldn't react directly, he started using his comics as a way to show what Betty Crocker was really like. So we also had this two characters when one represented Betty Crocker and the second one represented society, and they had this very abusive relationship that had references to situations in real life in Universe B.

So my theory (or more like my bfs theory) is that Dave from universe A was using his comics to the same exact thing. He drew situations from his life in a way unreadable for others (and also no one taught him how to draw or write, and maybe letter he kept the shitty format so it's still unreadable and too shitty for his brother to read) to cope with trauma. We see in this comics that Sweet Bro is shaving himself above Jeffs face while he sleeps, a thing that Dave's bro could definitely do. We see some pages of Dave trying to understand sport, economy and politics in his own way, bc his brother of course didn't teach him shit. And we even got a page that might suggest that Dave was sexually molested by his bro. There are many scenes of Bro being abusive to Jeff or Jeff getting his revenge. We have Geromy, a possible interpretation of John, and on one page Jeff (Dave) tries to come to Geromies (John's) place to visit him, but he can't and he drowns instead (which is so sad???).

I could go through every single page with this interpretation. I think some pages being a foreshadowings for what is Happening in Homestuck is just additional joke, Hussie loves having layers of meta twists and many unrelated things relating or referencing each other for not reason. I don't think the comics is Dave's unconscious traveling through time and revealing the future, bc if so then we would see every single page of Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff being a foreshadowing, and there are not. I also think that the huge wink to the audience was the scene of Dave being pushed by his bro down the stairs and we see him falling with accompaniment of a little panel of Jeff saying "I warned you about the stairs, bro". For me this is a visible hint that this is what this page of the comics was about, it was a way of coping with trauma, it was Dave drawing his brother falling down the stairs and himself saying probably a line that his brother irl was saying to him a lot.

Dave drew his life. His own terror of a live and it was probably more terrifying that he revealed in act 6.

Do you remember the iconic "bro hug"? A hug from his bro, sth that Dave really needed and wanted, a simple hug that he was very nervous to asked for, he literally drew himself hugging his brother in his second comic, and they we have the very same scene of Davepeta and Arquius hugging (part of them was Dave hugging Dirk, even if artificial), and then we have the exactly opposite of the scene between actual Dave and Dirk, when instead of enthusiastic "we're doing it bo, its happening, were making it" it's Dave saying "fuck forgive me for what I'm doing, this is so messed up fuck" and it's not even full embrace like in his comic, it's awkwardly side by side hug when they didn't even sit on the same level (like in the comic or with sprites), no, Dave is lower, hes smaller, he's scared, he cant face his brother, he wants to but he can't and this is just aaaansnanbska dmnsksns

Can someone talk about this comic more? This flashy shitty documentary of Dave's life drawn by idk 8 years old Dave ? The more I read Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff the more depressed I am cause this is so sad if I'm right about it. I really wish it was just stupid colorful comic without any deeper meaning, just faking to have one or sth....

Also I think Geromy is black bc either Dave didn't know how John looks like so he imagined him being somewhat similar to his fav president Obama or maybe he was just trying to make John's character as unlike John as possible so no one would suspect a thing. Or maybe he just imagine himself being friends with young Obama, who knows.

[discomfort-character]

People have had a very strong reaction to Daniel having sex with a woman with a bag over her head. That is incredibly fucked up and indefensible, but I just find the reaction to it interesting. Maybe people are having such a strong reaction because that is a more realistic fucked up thing to do. Women, which I am assuming most of the fandom is made up of, have all met shitty men irl so they can empathize with that more than a vampire killing a human. I saw a post that said if the bag thing is true then the only character worse then Daniel is Marius and I was honestly shocked by that statement. All the vampire characters have killed thousands of people and Louis was a pimp when he was human. To me those things are worse. IDK I've just been having a lot of thoughts about this whole thing.

LITERALLY NO ONE IS WORSE THAN MARIUS WHAT OH MY GODDD WHO SAID THAT

Ahem. Anyway...

I agree that the bag-on-the-head thing is nothing compared to slaughtering thousands of people if we were to put it on a scale.

However, I get skeeved out by the bag-head thing because I'm an AFAB person who has experienced sexual abuse and humiliation. Something like 1 in 5 women are sexually assaulted by the time they're 18, so I think the fandom is pretty heavily impacted by the idea of Daniel sexually abusing a woman. (Yes, she "consents," but it's pretty obvious that she needed to stop but didn't feel able to.)

It's just way more personally relatable to be sexually mistreated than it is to be attacked by vampires.

[inchidentally]

also like, as I always say I love the carland0 and dand0 content SO much like it got me into f1blr and I rewatch some of those every week to make me smile <3

but whenever Lando was with those guys - or tbh with any driver older than him - there's always this reverting to baby brother thing where he lets the older guy answer everything more seriously or in detail and then Lando just pipes in w something funny or cute or getting flustered and everyone being like oh that's classic Lando etc etc. and it's always great content lbr!

but him and Oscar being on that freakish wavelength together and automatically sharing responsibilities based on individual strength to do w knowledge/skill (and Lando's mood that day) means we actually get to see Lando's competence and knowledge way more than we used to. bc it's always been there as much as the other guys it's just the ~divergence~ brain making certain environments or certain pressures shutting parts of his brain (and literally do I relate to that).

and not to get too deep but it parallels the fact that when Oscar showed up and everyone was saying how he was Lando's rookie and his protégé etc it threw Lando for a while bc openly said he didn't feel comfortable being in that role to someone else/not having someone older and more experienced to lean on. which I think if Oscar had actually needed that himself it would've not worked at all well - fortunately Zak and Andrea both knew enough of Oscar to know that wouldn't be the case.

BUT !! Oscar knowing cough so much about Lando before joining McLaren meant that even though he rly never needed Lando to be in that guidance/leader role for him, he picked up on Lando genuinely wanting to try and like - that's where the wavelength was established. bc Oscar did put himself in the role of following what Lando chooses and learning Lando's preferences and behaviors which in turn ! fulfilled Lando wanting to do the team and himself proud and be there for Oscar as basically the existing face of McLaren and the popular driver who was able to win over fans and media to Oscar who were not only reluctant to like Oscar at the time, they were actively rooting for his downfall and reveling in McLaren's tough start to 2023. because Lando pushed for such solidarity and included Oscar so much in his social media back then, Oscar returned the favor by learning and copying from Lando how to engage w media and fans on the F1 level of scrutiny. and because Oscar went so unusually quiet and observant with Lando compared to Oscar with the guys in F3 and F2, Lando kept complimenting how "calm" Oscar was and how it was rubbing off on him.

like I know there's the rpf of it all but it's why I feel like we all latch on so hard with landoscar as it exists just in reality bc there's been the opposite of bromance and convenience for them that their dynamics w other drivers have had (similar personalities, interests, being invested in PR - or not, in Oscar's case) and they also didn't even have fans rooting for them to be friends or even be great teammates bc of Alpine drama and being bitter about Daniel AND add to the fact that Lando himself was resistant to the idea of being the older guy. yet despite having that uphill battle and their personalities in superficial/social ways being diametrically opposed, they're the teammates that are known for their freakish mind-reading/twinning and they naturally form to the same car requirements and preferences and after just one season together have the narrowest margins between them on track. and Lando was truly one foot out the door at points last season and while most of him being swayed was loyalty to McLaren, I think if Oscar had been just as competitive as he is BUT wasn't as perfectly matched for Lando as he is then... idk drivers have left teams that felt like 'home' for less reason than that !!

idk Lando twice catching himself referring to Oscar as if they've been teammates for years instead of barely even a season and a half and Oscar having this metamorphosis that's been visible on camera based on using Lando as his pole star for coping with the leap from F2 success->languishing at Alpine->F1 in a rollercoaster season for McLaren. to now watching them in all their content easily swapping duties with unspoken agreement and picking up the middle of each other's thoughts seamlessly (and Wired deciding to have both of them do it instead of just one like usual) and Lando looking to Oscar every time he forgets a word bc Oscar will have it for him immediately. they sit back together and enjoy watching every other team and driver go through chaos bc they've both committed to their team already and don't have to worry about all that for a good while.

sure a lot of us would prefer if they had the shared outside hobby to ensure hanging out even when they're one day no longer teammates but askgsajfglafg honestly for me that's a future concern that idc about !! there's something so we didn't just become teammates against the odds we became one of the best teammate pairings against the odds about them that's compelling in a sports/competition sense but also in the way they hold something fairly special between them as drivers - and undeniably at least in part as people - and them not choosing to advertise for fans when they travel together or hang out or have their own little debriefs and decompresses together - like them being so proud of their new privacy door to their drivers rooms and emphasizing how it's their own place to be private private and away from everyone (even Jon and Kim!) but it's so shared between them that Oscar still hears all of Lando's music

it's such a massive, conscious commitment to each other in a career that is basically most of their lives every year and it's just so !!!! all on it's own as it is for me <3<3

[rach-amber]

This question has been weighing heavily on me, and I need your advice.

Has anyone made you feel bad for being a huge fan of Rachel? Or have they made you feel guilty for choosing the Sacrifice Chloe ending? For me personally, I get more people looking at me as a bad person for choosing to save the town :/ Your girl is struggling and thinking about leaving the fandom because of these things.

Omg, thank you for asking this. No. Despite all the hate Rachel gets I know that it all stems from a place of misunderstanding/blindness towards who she really is, ignorance of the context of her circumstances and/or just pure biasness against AmberPrice. I'd say that choosing to save a town shows that you're a person with a big heart that cares for a greater number of people, which in a way is doing the right thing morally. It's actually a + point in my eyes. (Lmao I love Chloe but she literally said maybe it's her destiny and wants to save her family too, are they deaf for not hearing that part?? Let her be a hero and do what she wishes to do, is that so wrong? People be like nah imma save her cuz *I* love her and *I* care about her the most. Where's the altruism?) but still, I respect both decisions and choices.

As for those people that guilt-trip you or make you feel bad for liking the sweet girl Rachel and choosing a morally sound ending, best thing to do is to ignore them or stop talking to them specifically. (Blocking helps, too) There's more to the LiS fandom than those people, like I've met people who chose bay and love Rachel as much as I do as well, or good people that respect your choice because they also value you as a person. I'd say stick around with those people and this part of the fandom that you resonate with / don't have to feel bad about, and leave those that makes you feel bad for doing absolutely nothing wrong/liking a well-deserved character for her humanity, behind.

So yeah no one could really change my opinion much 😂 I wouldn't feel bad because I'm liking a lovable character! HAHAHAH idk if it's just cuz I'm stubborn, but finding the right people and those that respect you is also important. To quote a friend, it's 'AmberPrice against the world' really.

Hit me with those bastards that dare to make you feel bad or guilty for these things. We'll show them some true colours. (Pun unintended?) Their arguments are literally not sound and can be broken with some logical reasoning 😂

I hope you never feel that way. Know that I and those who love Rachel and AmberPrice have got your back girl!! 🧡🩵

Source: @erudapyon

And to the haters, You Need to Calm Down 😑 respect that people have their own opinions, shh, it's okay. This fandom should be a wholesome place instead of being divided by the choices in the game.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Hello,

I have a writing prompt for Michael Kaiser (Blue Lock): Kaiser gets into a pr relationship with an actress and they eventually bond and fall in love.

I think he would have a hard time because of his feelings of worthlessness, but this guy has so much potential, I swear, I love him so much.

If you want to go for a "dark side of Hollywood" type of concept, imagine: a young girl who was raised under the pressure of becoming "the perfect star" and surrounded by the chaos of the industry (Idk, the movie Black Swan comes to mind, or the typical representation of Marilyn's life, something along the lines). I think he could bond with someone who is in a similar mind space as him, but who externalizes it differently, remaining kind and such. He definitely needs someone who is empathetic and can see through his insecurities, and I really like the concept of two characters who are hurt helping each other heal.

If you don't want that much drama, scratch the idea of a hurt oc. Think about someone with an "entrepreneur" mindset: someone ambitious, confident, and level headed, who (again) is empathetic and would call him out and help him grow (I'm thinking about sae, but emotionally competent lol).

You don't really have to go for any of this though, it's just meant to get you inspired to write something for my boy Kaiser. I hope it's not too much. Also, there's no rush at all!!

Thank you in advance. I hope you have a good day 🩷

── THE INSTRUMENT

Synopsis: Michael Kaiser is like a rose, and you are the songbird he cannot bear to lose.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Kaiser x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6.8k

Content Warnings: fake dating trope, implied/referenced abuse, call me tabito karasu the way i assassinate kaiser’s character in this, open ending, relationship dynamics many would consider…interesting…

A/N: hiiii anon ty for requesting!! i hope that i wrote kaiser in a somewhat satisfactory way 😫 this is my first time writing for him so idk if i got him right 😓 also i have NO idea why but for some reason i decided to write this in the present tense which i literally have never done?? so if it sounds off that’s why 💔 i’m so sorry i really don’t know what possessed me SKDJFSHKL

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

It’s hot and like a bruise, your first phone call with Michael Kaiser. He’s that brand of aggravating and just shy of painful to speak with; morbidly, you wish for the conversation to manifest as some kind of actual injury, perhaps on your upper arm, so you can poke at it until it is tender and blooming. But of course, that sort of thing isn’t possible, so you amuse yourself by tapping your fingers against the counter and considering what you might eat for dinner.

“Did you hear me?” he snaps when you do not respond to his proposition immediately. He speaks with an accent, clipped and short, lending severity to his words even when he’s saying nothing of note. “Miss L/N. It’s in both of our best interests to cooperate.”

He’s not wrong about this. It’s the only reason you’ve stayed on the call for as long as you have — it’s in your best interest. It’s the same for him, too, and the thought almost makes you laugh, because who would’ve expected your interests and his to ever align?

“Of course I heard you,” you say, twisting open your bottle of water, taking a sip and idly wondering if he can hear an accent when you speak, too. It’s difficult for you to notice your own, but maybe to him, you sound as odd as he does to you. “You should learn patience, Mr. Kaiser. Such a heavy request you’re making of me, and yet you demand my answer immediately?”

He huffs. “It’s not something you need to dwell on.”

“It might be,” you say, though it’s not at all. Your mind was made up the moment he asked; everything after that has been nothing more than a ploy to irritate him. You’re good at that, at irritating people. Michael Kaiser is not an exception.

“Miss L/N,” he says again, something like a darker version of pleading creeping into his tone. “Your answer. Now.”

“Well, you already knew before you asked, didn’t you? Naturally, I’ll do it,” you say. “It’s a mutually beneficial partnership. Though I expect you to really try your best, Mr. Kaiser, or else it’ll all be for naught.”

“I could say the same to you,” he says.

“Between the two of us, who is the actress?” you say, chuckling when he is silent. “I am sure that I will be convincing. It’s you who I worry for. Hiding your true feelings has never been one of your strengths, has it? Or you wouldn’t be speaking to me at all.”

“Shut up,” he says after a moment has passed. “I doubt your acting skills are anything to brag about.”

“I know you’ve watched my movies,” you say, and when he doesn’t refute this, you beam. “Have you really?”

“Only because someone I know suggested I should,” he says. “If I want to love you, then I have to understand you. That’s what he told me.”

“And what did you think?” you say.

“I thought that I don’t plan to love you at all, and then I told him as much,” he says, the force of his eye roll transmitting even over the phone. You’re not sure if he’s acting deliberately obtuse or if he really thinks you care about this inane conversation he’s describing, but either way you sigh, because his answer is so telling of his personality.

“I was talking about my movies,” you say.

“I don’t prefer the genre,” he says, and then he’s hanging up with a promise to call you later, if he is so inclined. He doesn’t tell you not to call him, but you feel like he implies it, so you vow to set your phone aside and pay him no mind for the rest of your evening.

I’m dating Michael Kaiser, you type in the body of your email to your manager, who you are certain will be so delighted by this news that he will combust spontaneously upon hearing it. You want to type it again, this unbelievable turn of events, so you do. I’m dating Michael Kaiser. Then you delete the repetition, reverting it once again into a formal email, instead of a giddy celebration over an event which should not prompt giddiness or anything resembling it.

It’s a relationship meant to salvage his ruined reputation and boost your career in one fell swoop, and so it’s a relationship that can only work if it’s formed between you two in particular. He, who is a foul-mouthed soccer prodigy, known better for his crass treatment of others than any actual skills he may possess, and you, a rising star who will do anything to be famous and are already of a serviceable status to be seen with him.

Despite your burst of excitement, the prospect of dating Michael Kaiser isn’t actually a thrilling one. The rumors of his horrid demeanor aren’t rumors, and you know this well, albeit through secondhand accounts. Cruelty is the way that he operates, his so-to-speak basal mode, and because it is so intrinsic to his being, you do not fancy that he will deviate from that malicious rule, even for you.

But you are accustomed to a false existence. Donning a facade and masquerading as a person who you are not is the only thing you are good at, are good for, and this time is no different than every other. You will put on the mask of a woman who is loved by Michael Kaiser, who has tamed that mad emperor and turned him into her sweet pet, and you will once again fool the world into believing you.  

He’s doing an interview today. You’re only aware because he texts you right before and tells you to turn on the TV to a channel you’d never choose if you had a say in the matter. But you’re intrigued and he refuses to explain further, so you do as he commands and find yourself watching as he reclines back in a leather armchair and smirks at the host, who’s clearly nervous.

She’s pretty, her hands shaking but her expression serious. You’ve never seen her before, which means she’s new. Of course, that’s not a surprise; only someone very inexperienced or very stupid would invite Michael Kaiser to their show, and she does not seem to be particularly stupid, so her affliction is the first. 

“Um, Mr. Kaiser, it’s a pleasure to have you with us,” she says, like she cannot quite believe that he is actually there, or like she is afraid of what he might take offense at, or some combination of the two.

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” he says, all roguish and self-assured, which is such a contrast to his typically surly demeanor that you have to commend the girl for keeping her composure.

They speak at length about his soccer career, throwing around words you do not understand and do not care to. It’s so boring you almost power down the television and tell him you think as much, but then the girl clears her throat, her face turning a comical shade of red as her fists clench the paper she’s been reading off of.

“This last question is from our viewers, but it’s personal, so if you don’t want to answer, then it’s not a problem,” she says, squirming in her chair, probably hoping he does not humiliate her. It will be bad for her career if he does, even if by now everyone knows what kind of person he is.

“Go on, then. I feel like we’ve built a rapport here, so I don’t mind it as much if it’s from you,” he says. It’s a perfectly packaged sentiment. His PR team must have tortured him into this new persona. You try to imagine it — it’s definitely a humorous thought, picturing the Bastard München representative slamming Michael Kaiser’s face into a bowl of water for every snarky comment he makes. Unrealistic, though. They would never risk compromising his performance like that.

“There’s rumors that you’re seeing Y/N L/N, the actress. A source who claims to be close to you both mentioned it online, and people can’t stop talking about the possibility. Neither you nor Miss L/N have addressed it, though, and our viewers were hoping you might…?” She cringes back, already preparing for one of his tirades, but he only smiles genially and winks at the camera. You remind yourself to tell him later that he’s laying it on too thick, even if you are enjoying this new character that he’s playing up for the sake of it.

“Y/N L/N? I’m shocked that you think I’m handsome enough to date someone like her,” he says. Your phone buzzes — it’s your manager, crowing about how impressed he is with your ‘boyfriend’ and his presence of mind. 

“So it’s a no?” the interviewer says, almost hopefully. He’s mysterious when he shrugs, mysterious and more than a little coy, as if she’s flattering him and he’s too shy to accept the praise.

“If Miss L/N ever deems me to be worthy of her, then it’s a yes in a heartbeat,” he says. It’s an excellent setup for his redemption, and the girl plays into it so beautifully that you tell your manager to send her flowers or some chocolate at the earliest possible opportunity.

“I think that you’ve shown yourself to be an excellent candidate today,” she says.

“Have I? I’ve really been trying to prove myself,” he says. Dreamy sighs ripple through the live studio audience. Someone whistles. It’s all very romantic and fairy-tale-esque, although he is far from being any kind of prince.

“You’re doing great,” the girl assures him. “I’m sure that, if Miss L/N is watching, she’ll have no choice but to be smitten.”

“If she’s watching? Oh, the thought didn’t even cross my mind,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. You shouldn’t have doubted him and his audacity; he’s fallen into the role as if he were born to play it. “How embarrassing. I’ve just confessed to her on live television without even knowing if she’s interested…”

He’s actually blushing. You are doubly awed — he’s a natural-born talent. It’s a shame that he’s devoted to soccer; he could make it out like a bandit in the acting industry.

“No, no, don’t be embarrassed. How could she ever reject someone like you?” she assures him. How, indeed! At the moment, you are so pleased that you could kiss him. He’s better than any co-star you’ve ever had to work with, in that he is making your job exponentially easier instead of exponentially more difficult.

“If she really is watching, then I can only pray she heard you say that part,” he says, waving in greeting, presumably at you. “Hello, Miss L/N. I really admire you, so if you find me at all agreeable, then I would quite like it if you would say yes to the date I’m going to ask you on.”

He’s made the world swoon and your social media mentions triple. People are begging you to say yes, to give him a chance, to see how he has changed. They want to live through you, and you will let them.

When he calls you, you tell him you were thrilled by his performance. This causes him to shoot back that he finds you insufferable and condescending, to which you say that it’s what makes you and him such a perfect pair. Then you recite an address, and he asks you what you’re going on about. You answer that it is the place where you will have your first date, and then you hang up before he can respond, just so that you can deny him the chance to do it to you first. 

Cameras flash in your faces as you enter the restaurant your manager has booked a reservation at. Michael Kaiser’s arm is wrapped around your waist, and it’s nauseatingly domestic, the kind of scene that would be the cover for one of those coming-of-age movies your agent loves booking for you. You wait for the frantic sound of camera shutters to slow, and then you tug on his sleeve.

“What is it?” he says. It’s quiet enough that no one else can hear, which is why it’s devoid of any warmth, but you are unruffled.

“Your tie,” you say. “It’s not crooked, but we will pretend that it is, and I’ll fix it so that there is something sweet to accompany the tabloid articles that will come out tomorrow.”

Your hands reach for his neck, and he does something you do not comprehend — flinching back, he shakes his head. When he realizes he’s done this, he grits his teeth, like the anger can make up for the temporary weakness. You do not press the issue, merely furrowing your brow and gazing up at him, doing your best to ensure that your eyes remain soft, so that the exchange is not misinterpreted by the parasites around you.

“No,” he says. “Do something else, but leave my tie alone.”

“Alright,” you say. It’s not sensible for you to argue, and anyways it doesn’t matter much what you are doing, as long as you are doing something. Humming to yourself, you adjust the lapels of his jacket. The cameras go off again. You pretend like you do not notice, like the world consists of only you two, and then you interlace your fingers with his, allowing him to drag you into the restaurant behind him.

It’s your turn to be interviewed. You’re wearing a dress, your legs crossed at the ankles — it’s demure and practical and prevents anyone from leering at you, so it’s been a habit of yours for quite a while. The interviewer is female, though, which calms you a bit. She’s older, around your mother’s age, and the wrinkles on her forehead remind you that you should call your parents and arrange for them to meet your doting boyfriend.

“Miss L/N, I can’t begin to tell you how excited I am to finally meet you!” the woman says. You think her name may be Anne, but she hasn’t introduced herself to you yet, so you’re not certain.

“You are too kind. If anything, it’s an honor for me to be here,” you say. The audience really likes that, when you are humble and shy and so darling. It’s palatable and easy for them to digest, or that’s what your manager tells you. 

“Tell us about your upcoming projects,” she says after giving you the appropriate amount of praise for your charming personality.

“I’m currently shooting a new romantic comedy, but I’m afraid it’s all very hush-hush, so I can’t say too much about it. I think you all will really enjoy it, though, and I’m looking forward to the day that we can discuss it at length,” you say. 

The conversation goes on like that for a bit, but you know she’s going through the motions because she has to, not because she wants to. There’s only one question she cares to ask, but if she just talks to you about your boyfriend and not your own accomplishments, then she’ll be blasted online as an anti-feminist. You hear quite frequently that this is akin to suicide in the world of marketing, so you can’t blame her.

That doesn’t stop you from having some fun. When she’s exhausted every possible avenue of questioning you about your future plans and past successes, you make as if you’re going to stand up and leave. Panic leaps across her face, and you snicker.

“We’ve spoken at such length about my acting career. You can’t possibly have any more questions about it, hm? You probably know more than my manager does!” Your attitude is balanced out by the joke. The audience laughs. It’s a fine line that you walk, but if you do not have the chance to act sharper every now and again, you believe you will die — internally if not externally — so you take such risks when you can justify them to yourself.

“You’re dating Michael Kaiser now, aren’t you?” she says. It’s a rancid curiosity she hides with a motherly type of concern. You brush off your legs, recross them, and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I am,” you say. You don’t have to play the games that he did; you both are established now. Official. A bona-fide couple. Anyways, it’s more appealing if you are outright with it.

“How has that been? You’ve really made a difference in that young man’s life, it seems,” she says.

The best way to lie is to tell the truth. “Yes, I suppose I have, but he has made an equal difference in mine. He is as good for me as I am for him; truly, I never understood what it meant when my parents called each other their ‘better halves’ until we met.”

In an hour, there will be thousands of posts online about this. If Y/N and Michael break up, then I don’t believe in love anymore! Maybe soulmates are real! Couple goals! These are the kinds of captions you are anticipating. The two of you will send screenshots to one another and laugh about how gullible the world is, and then you will strategically plan which comments to like and posts to favorite so that your message goes through. That’s the extent of your relationship with him, really, at least when the two of you are alone. The detachedness makes things much easier than they otherwise would be.

“There’s a popular theory going around that the two of you have had a secret wedding already. Is it true? Am I speaking to Mrs. Kaiser at the moment?” she says, eyes glittering like a vulture’s. She’s ready to pounce on any hesitation, any brief indecision that you might show, but you have spent more time in the spotlight than in your own parents’ home, so you don’t even waver.

“Marriage! I think we’re a bit too early in our relationship to be considering such things, and a bit too early in our lives to be rushing into major decisions like that,” you say. “If and when the time comes, you’ll be the first to know, but it won’t be for a while.”

It won’t be at all, actually. This relationship is not going to last for more than another month. Once the buzz surrounding you two dies, you and he will quietly split. It’ll be as if you never met in the first place.

Your phone rings as you’re leaving the studio. The caller ID says that it is Michael Kaiser, and the thought that he was watching your interview in the same way you watched his makes you feel odd.

“Hello?” you say.

“I’m not gonna marry you. Never-fucking-ever. If you’re expecting a ring, then put it out of your mind.”

“I wasn’t,” you say. “How else would you have liked me to answer that question?”

“Fuck if I know.”

Neither of you hang up on the other — you don’t think you can summon the wherewithal to, which is out of character for him but typical for you — though you both also don’t speak any further. He stays on the line while you drive home, breathing softly like he is sleeping, but you are sure that he is not. The point of it is lost on you, but then you drive into a tunnel and the call ends on its own, so it’s moot anyways. 

Your parents are excited to meet Michael Kaiser. They’ve read up on him extensively, watched all his interviews and even his game highlights. Your mother calls you the night before just so she can gush to you about how handsome he is, how you’ve really done well for yourself this time around. Her approval is nice to have, though superfluous, like a luxury soap or perfume. 

Your father is the one who suggests you all go golfing. You don’t know how to play, and neither does your mother, but you recognize it’s his attempt at connecting with who he thinks is your boyfriend, so you accept. You’re not sure if Michael Kaiser knows how to play golf, or really anything besides soccer, but he is game enough to come that you suppose he must.

It’s warm out, the sun beating down on your father’s brow as he lines up the ball with his club. Michael Kaiser stands on his left, and you think he’s somehow beautiful in this lighting. Not beautiful how your many attractive coworkers are, but in a manner which is distinctly him and therefore utterly irreproducible. His body is lean and graceful, his hair shaggy and gold, though he’s dyed the tips blue in what you’re sure is a statement. The shade matches his eyes, and also the inked roses on his neck. You have long ago come to the conclusion that the flowers are also a part of that same statement, but you have yet to discover what that statement might be. 

“He’s an improvement from that last boyfriend of yours,” your mother says, leaning back so that she can pour the last few drops of soda from her empty can into her throat. You and her are sitting together in the golf cart, seeking refuge in the shade of its plastic roof, sharing the drinks that your father had bought for himself and forgotten about the instant he stepped onto the golf course.

“He is,” you say. That’s not an exaggeration, nor is it something incredible. Your last boyfriend was an old classmate of yours who loved your celebrity more than he loved you. Michael Kaiser doesn’t love you, either, but he is honest about it, and you do not love him back, so there is no resentment between you and him.

“I like the way he looks at you,” your mother says. There’s a hiss as she opens a new can of soda. It’s a vice, but whenever you remind her of it, she dismisses you. She wants to have fun while she’s on this earth, apparently. Maybe drinking five cans of soda in one sitting means her life will be shorter, but life without soda isn’t worth living anyways, or something like that. The reasoning is stupid, but you know she is loyal to it, so you have to accept it. “It’s refreshing. So gentle. You’ll be talking to someone else, and he’ll just be staring at you like he can’t quite believe you’re his.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” you say. 

Your mother is about to say something else, but she is interrupted by a loud whoop. Michael Kaiser has hit a hole-in-one, and before you can tell him to stop embarrassing himself, your father is cheering, throwing his arms around him and calling him son.

“Your father likes him, too,” your mother said. 

“Oh, he needs to stop that! I can’t believe he’s making things so awkward,” you say, getting up to reprimand him before realizing that there is an entirely foreign sheen to Michael Kaiser’s eyes as he rests his chin on your father’s shoulder. He is not quite smiling, but it is a close approximation of the expression, and when your father ruffles his hair and says that it may have been beginner’s luck but he’s proud regardless, the curve of his lips becomes deeper.

You don’t understand, but you don’t need to. You may have facilitated it, but the moment belongs to him, and your presence is as unwanted as it is unnecessary.

You sit back down and take a sip of your mother’s soda. She grins knowingly and says that you look like you are in love, too. You don’t have the heart to tell her the truth, so you hum noncommittally and say that you might be.

You are growing fond of Michael Kaiser. It isn’t a slow realization — actually, it hits you very suddenly one day. He hands you a bouquet of flowers before opening the passenger door of his car for you. You ask him why he’s brought you peonies instead of roses, and he says it’s because he despises roses. It’s such an absurd answer and he says it with such a straight face that you have to cough in order to disguise your choked laughter. 

“Those must be some other kind of flower, then,” you say, pointing at but not touching his tattoos, at the delicate petals which fold over his pulse, azure and bright and silky. 

“No, those are roses,” he says, his knuckles growing white on the steering wheel. Normally, you wouldn’t ask further, but today you want to prod at his bruise of an existence, so you turn the music down and hug the peonies to your chest.

“But you despise roses,” you say.

“It’s a good reminder,” he says. “No flower lies quite as well as a rose does.”

That is when you are certain that you are partial to him. It is an unavoidable fact and also a treacherous one, but true notwithstanding. 

You put the peonies in a vase of water when you get home that night and hope they never die, although you know that they will be gone within the week. It’s how time works. The peonies will die and you two will break up and you’ll have nothing but a bare kitchen counter and thoughts of his intricacies to remember him by. 

There are no paparazzi around on the night when he wraps your hands around his throat. You are alone with him, sequestered away in the living room of his mansion, a bowl of popcorn shoved between the two of you while a movie plays in the background. This seclusion defeats the original purpose of the relationship entirely, but you sense that that original purpose is no longer fully applicable, so you do not refuse when he calls you and demands you come.

There’s a blanket tossed over your legs, the brilliant colors of his soccer club’s emblem faded from repeated washes. It’s warm, and if you were not busily eating most of the popcorn, you’d pull it up around your shoulders. As for Michael Kaiser, he’s facing the screen, his hair tied back in a knot, a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his nose and reflecting the visage of the lead actress as she laughs. You observe him as you snack. You’ve seen this movie before and didn’t really like it, so you’re not missing much. He’s more interesting by far.

“I know that woman,” you say, so that he has to acknowledge you.

“Hm,” he says.

“She’s a jerk,” you say. 

“Sounds like your kind of company,” he says. You scoff, because he’s not wrong. He keeps watching the movie, and you keep watching him, until a thought occurs to you.

“Can I call you Michael? Even when it’s just us two,” you ask. He purses his lips. The actress screams. Her character has just died, but the scene is poorly shot and even more poorly acted, so it’s not as heart-wrenching as it should be. You would’ve done better, but your agent doesn’t want you taking any gory roles, and your manager agrees. In his professional opinion, it’ll ruin the doll-like persona you’ve spent so long cultivating. He’s probably right. It’s hard to adore a doll once you’ve watched it die so gruesomely.

“You can do whatever you want,” he says.

“Okay,” you say, swallowing another mouthful of popcorn, the salt lingering on your tongue long after the popcorn itself is gone. “Michael.”

“Yes?” he says.

“Nothing,” you say. “I just wanted to say your name.”

“Okay,” he says. “Y/N?”

He’s never called you that in private. Of course, when you’re out and about, he must refer to you with such familiarity, but in private you’ve never been anything but Miss L/N. It’s a change but a good one. You don’t want to ever be Miss L/N again. Not to him.

“Yes?” you say.

“I’m trying to watch this movie,” he says. “It has high ratings, so be quiet and allow me to finish.”

“It’s shitty,” you say, yawning and leaning back against the mountain of pillows you’ve created for yourself. “Overly gratuitous with its use of fake blood.”

“Right, because that’s a cardinal sin,” he says dryly.

“Sorry, but it’s hard to enjoy films when you know how they’re made,” you say. He picks up the remote and pauses the movie. You blink, because that’s about the last thing you expected from him. Then he turns the TV off entirely and you realize you’ll probably never be able to predict what he does next, so you should stop trying already.

“I know how movies are made,” he says.

“Did you have a secret acting career you never told me about?” you say. It’s a joke, but you also wouldn’t be surprised if it’s true. He’s taken to performing like a fish takes to water, and every day you tell him he should quit soccer and devote his life to cinema because of this uncanny skill.

“Not me, but my mother was an actress, and my father was a director,” he says. 

“Was?” you say.

“Maybe they still are,” he says. “I don’t know. We’re not on speaking terms.”

“Why not?” you say. He takes your hands in between his, and you can make out immediately that his instinct is to hurt you, to press his fingertips into your wrists so hard that they leave marks. It’s to his credit that he fights back the urge, fights it back and arranges your palms against his carotid arteries. His jaw clenches and his pupils dilate as he waits for you to realize; when you do, you rip your hands away for fear of wounding him further.

“Don’t pity me,” he instructs you, unpausing the movie like nothing happened. “And don’t ever bring it up again.” 

Now that you have his permission to refer to him only by his name, you develop a strange fascination with saying it. He’s amused by your new fixation, answering you in a lilting tone every time you call for him.

According to him, you are like a small nightingale, always warbling, always happy, fluttering around beside him and changing his mood for the better. Well, if you are like a nightingale, then he is like a dog, and you tell him as much when you are sitting across from him at a coffee shop.

“A dog?” he repeats, his face pinching. He’s just taken a swig of the black coffee he always orders, but you know his disgusted expression isn’t a symptom of the beverage’s bitterness. “Take that back.”

“Not in a bad way,” you say. Your own drink is sweet, so you sip on it slowly to prevent a stomach ache. “I’m not calling you pathetic. I just mean that you are amiable and lively. It’s a compliment.”

“It’s not who I really am,” he says. “Have I deceived even you? Amiable? Lively? Remember why this entire scam began in the first place — because I am neither of those things.”

“Right,” you say. “A peacock, then. Terribly vain and entirely alluring.”

He relaxes and raises his cup to his mouth again. He’ll be up late tonight, he always is when he has coffee, but it never stops him from drinking it. “That’s better.”

The reminder that whatever you have with him is not real stings more than it should. You throw away your drink almost untouched, which does cause him to raise an eyebrow, but thankfully he refrains from commenting. It’s a relief, because you don’t even know how to explain it to yourself, let alone him.

He walks you to your front porch and waits with crossed arms as you fish for the key in your purse, shoving it in the lock once you have it in your grasp. His farewell when you open the door is stilted and abnormal, so you stop him with a hand on his arm before he can go.

“Michael,” you say. You’ve never said his name like this before. It comes from a place raw and deep within you, a place that you are certain is purple and black like a wound. You say it like you love him, and you think it must be because you do.

“Yes?” he says. It’s the way he always responds to you, his voice like a song, a small smile on his ordinarily strict face — though today, he is not smiling. Instead, he is frowning, like he has come to an understanding that he would have rather not reached.

“Never mind,” you say. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” he says. He drives away, his car disappearing around the corner, leaving you standing alone in the still-open doorway and wondering how you will survive the day when he disappears permanently. 

You’re not sure what it is about him that makes pretending difficult, but suddenly, it’s a struggle for you to maintain your aloof front. You find it disconcerting, that he has taken this aspect of your identity and rendered it entirely null and void; it’s even more disconcerting that he has done it unwittingly and unsympathetically. If you loved him any less, you would hate him, because he has stolen who you are and left you blind and fumbling, but you fell for him, and the way you landed broke something fundamental, so that it is impossible for you to get back up. 

“I think that I love you,” you say. You are on his couch again, and there is a movie playing again, which is all too similar to a past scenario that you think about when you are lonely. Tonight, it’s some soccer documentary that you find so tedious you are driven to irrationality. 

He drops the glass of water in his hands; you reach out and catch it before it can spill, setting it on the table in front of you. 

“What?” he says. You shrug.

“I love you,” you say again, and you’re flippant about it because you’re not telling him in the hopes he loves you, too. In fact, you know that he does not, so you are using him as a confessional; after all, the minimum he owes you is sharing the burden of this sin.

“There’s no one around,” he says. “You don’t have to lie. It won’t gain us anything.”

“It hasn’t gained us anything in a long while,” you say. It’s true — your relationship isn’t trending anymore, and most of your dates are in locations where you will not be recognized. 

He stands up. The documentary continues as he paces, and a referee blows a whistle while he tangles his fingers in his hair and pulls. You stay on the couch, your eyes following his erratic movements, your hands folded in your lap.

“No, you don’t,” he says.

“I don’t what?” you say.

“You don’t love me,” he says. He wants to sound callous, you are sure of it, but the effect is lost on you. He sounds more lost than anything.

“But I do,” you respond. “Who are you to tell me I don’t?”

“Don’t,” he says. “Stop it. This instant.”

You laugh incredulously. “Do you think it’s that easy? I wouldn’t feel like this in the first place if it was.”

“Why?” he says. He’s still pacing. It’s like watching a tiger in a zoo. You want to study him, but he demands your attention in a different way. “Y/N. Why me? Why at all?”

“The reasons don’t matter, do they? I can tell you, but they won’t change anything,” you say, shrugging. “If you find yourself in the kitchen, bring water back for me. I’m thirsty.”

“Drink mine,” he says, pointing at the cup you had narrowly saved from disaster. “And quit your avoidance. Tell it to me plainly. Why?”

“Because you are you,” you say once you have drained half of his glass and your tongue is not quite as papery. “It’s a series of things; there’s not just one concrete reason. You hate roses and only drink black coffee. My mother thinks you’re handsome and my father is convinced you’re a golfing genius. You are a dog but also a peacock and then again an emperor. Don’t ask ridiculous questions and expect me to answer them when I cannot.”

“I’ll hurt you,” he says. “I’ll hurt you, Y/N, and I don’t — I don’t want to. You’re the only one who I don’t want to hurt, so just give up. It’s for the better if you do.”

“You won’t,” you say. “I don’t think you can.”

“Of course I can,” he says. “It’s the one thing I’m capable of. The only way I know how to love someone is by hurting them. I’ll do the same to you if you let me, and if you’re telling the truth, then you will let me.”

“Because I love you?” you say. “You think I’ll let you hurt me because I love you? For shame, Michael. I thought you knew me better than that.”

“Please,” he says. It’s a word he’s never said, not to you and not in his life. Its weight hangs before you, pulsating in the air like it’s tangible. “If I love you, I’ll destroy you. And then you’ll leave, and it’ll destroy me.”

It’s a selfless desire that he’s disguising as a selfish one. You’re good at pretending, but you’re not good at telling when others are. That much is obvious, because if you had any talent at the latter then you would’ve seen that he’s loved you for as long as you have loved him, maybe longer. He loves you and so he’s urging you to flee, to destroy him before he can do it to you first.

“Damned if I do and damned if I don’t, huh?” you say, exhaling and finishing off the rest of his water. “Listen to me.”

“No,” he says. His obstinance is endearing, but you throw a pillow at him instead of cooing like you want to. He catches it and tosses it back. It lands beside you with a thump. You pat it for emphasis.

“Yes,” you say. “I love you.”

He plugs his ears with his fingers. “Nope.”

“I love you, I love you — hey, I know you can hear me!” you say.

“La la la,” he shouts over your voice, sticking his tongue out petulantly. “I can’t hear you, I can’t hear you!”

“You’re cruel,” you say. “I won’t deny it. I know who you really are, Michael Kaiser. You possess cruelty in spades, but it’s in the way that a rose does. You have grown malice like thorns so that no one may come near your heart, and you think these thorns will tear me apart when I extend my hand past them. What you aren’t accounting for is that I have done so already. I have reached your heart and still I am intact. Now, what is there to cause me harm — a mere flower? But a flower can’t cause anyone harm, least of all a person such as myself. You can’t, or more importantly you won’t. I believe that you won’t.”

He stares at you. The soccer team in the documentary still playing behind him scores, and the crowd roars in approval. You stare back at him and wait.

“I hate roses,” he finally says. “I hate them a lot. They’re the worst kind of flower.”

“I don’t know about that,” you say. “I quite fancy them.”

“They prick your fingers,” he says.

“Not if you are gentle,” you say. “Not if you understand them.”

He buries his face in his hands. “Go home, Y/N.”

You do as you are told, flagging a taxi and shivering while you wait for it. You wish for things to be different, but the amount of unfulfilled wishes you’ve made outnumber the stars in the sky, so you add this one to the list and vow to move on.

You have no desire to leave your bed the next morning, but you are also hungry, and your hunger wins out over your despair. You muster up the energy to roll out of your sheets and trudge downstairs, but you are miserable as you do so. You are utterly miserable, and the fact that you are only worsens the feeling, trapping you in an endless kind of loop.

When you enter your kitchen, you are surprised to see a pot of flowers sitting innocently on your counter. You didn’t put them there, so you should feel afraid, but they’re roses, and they’re the same arresting shade as the sky, so you don’t. You only grin, slowly and then all at once as you begin to giggle helplessly.

There isn’t a card or an explanation provided, but you don’t need either. You already know who they are from.

[iamnmbr3]

smirking all over his pointed face, Draco Malfoy leaned across Harry and seized the largest Bowtruckle. 'Maybe' said Malfoy in an undertone, so that only Harry could hear him

Idk what you think but i can't consider "lean across" as normal for two guys who have no feeling. Like that close? like the imagination is not gonna be absolute normal to me.

This whole bit is such a trip. Harry and Draco then proceed to have a whispered conversation. Meaning they are standing close enough to hear each other. And then it ends with "Malfoy walked away, smirking over his shoulder at Harry" which imho is physically impossible to do in a non-flirty way. Wtf Draco!?

Literally for the first 5 years Draco's whole life revolves around Harry. Harry's got other things on his plate, but Draco's entire priority is to insert himself into Harry's life, even if the only way to do that is by making himself into a rival and constant nuisance (despite the fact that his dad specifically told him not to be openly hostile to Harry).

Harry is also...interestingly relaxed about Draco getting all up in his personal space. They are both always weirdly comfortable around each other, even when they have every reason not to be. They're just drawn to each other.

And once Draco changes his attitudes and cleans up his act I can see Harry, in a postwar world, suddenly realizing that there's no push to balance out the pull that Draco has always had on him. Once Draco is no longer on the opposite side of the war, no longer a bigot who hurts Harry's friends, suddenly Harry becomes fully aware of just how much he's drawn to him, and how much they have in common.

[oliver-crow]

hii i really liked your tags on the OM fishie boys, can you talk more about them? or maybe which aquatic animal you would personally headcanon each? no pressure =w=bb <3

Hi thank you ! I’m just a ocean nerd who looks too deep on mermaid designs

So for these guys I’m going to give them a shark and a different sea creature , mainly because I love sharks so much know more about them but also I have ideas for other creatures.

Obey me cast as sea creatures!

Lucifer:

• so for a shark I think he would be best as a bull shark

•bill sharks are territorial and can kill (even if accidentally)

•other animal wise he would be a vampire squid

•mainly for aesthetics but also since vampire squids are seen as not actually squids and of their own genus . Like how Lucifer was a demon but not anymore and is something different

•idk it’s hard to write for him T-T

Mammon:

• I know what you all are thinking for shark mams, ‘he’s obviously going to be a mako’

• NO. mammon is a lemon shark through and through .

• why? Well lemon sharks sometimes form bonds with certain divers and get incredibly possessive and greedy for the divers attention to the point they will actively drive away other sharks .

• who else is possessive and greedy but also sweeter than most other shark demons well mammon of course

• he could also be a bluefin tuna cuz really fast but idk

Leviathan:

my bias will show here lmao

• Levi is absolutely a thresher shark I mean he has the same energy as one !

• thresher sharks attack schools of fish ..schools of normies maybe?

• noooo it’s not just because thresher sharks are my fav and Levi is also my fav whattttt/s

•as for marine creatures Levi is an octopus

•they hide away and can change colors when scared

•Levi hides away in his room and changes colors when embarrassed!/hj

Satan:

• Satan gives off big oceanic white tip shark vibes

•Both are incredibly territorial and can act aggressive.

•for marine animal I’m just kinda throwing stuff at a wall here and hoping it sticks

• he’s a dolphin . I’m debating making him an orca but I have a specific sleepy demon I have that idea for.

•dolphins can be aggressive but sadistic when hunting things

•dolphins are also incredibly smart .

Asmodeus:

• ok to be honest I do not know what shark to throw at this guy so this will be vague

•he gets a leopard shark since they are considered one of the prettiest shark species

•and of course for sea creature he is a jellyfish , specially a sea nettle jellyfish!

•sea nettles may not be deadly but they can cause painful stings while also being incredibly pretty

Beelzebub:

•there’s no doubt in my mind that this guy is a tiger shark!

•tiger sharks are big strong and beautiful but they will eat literally anything

•like. Anything. Some have been found with license plates in their stomachs

•as for another creature he’s like a giant grouper

•they also eat anything they can fit in their mouths but also get huge .

Belphagor:

• so shark wise he is a pacific sleeper shark

•they are supposedly known for their sluggish and dozy nature

•for a sea creature he is absolutely an orca !

•orcas are intelligent and methodical.

•they also have never hurt a human in the wild and only in captivity

•belphie was in captivity and then hurt a human so he’s an orca to me.

Holy crap I’m sorry this took so long I’ve been busy and I also wanted to make this as perfect as I could lol .

Hope it’s okay , I might make this an au , maybe . If y’all want that lmk lol

[moonyasnow]

Just some Octatrio thoughts, about another post

Ok I don't usually do this but this one take about the Octatrio I scrolled past on my dash the other day has invaded my brain like a parasite and latched on and absolutely refuses to let go, so I just need to get it out of my system or it's gonna drive me crazy

I don't remember the OP's name, but if I remember correctly the post was basically about how, apparently(apologies in advance if I got something wrong or misrepresented the OP's words):

People who have soft, fluffy headcanons for Azul, Jade and Floyd are kids who had the jokes the characters were based on, such as:

Jade likes mountains apparently not because he just thinks nature is fascinating but it's supposed to be a joke for mountains being good places to dump bodies

The Leeches are implied to be a literal fish mafia

The Octatrio are dressed like American prohibition-era mobsters

Jade and Floyd want to eat Azul

fly over their heads.

And I just—

The only word I can think of to explain what I feel every time I remember it is 'baffled'. I mean absolutely 0 disrespect in any way, shape or form to the OP, but I am genuinely fascinated by how they could have come to those conclusions.

My first thought was 'no actually I'm pretty sure people get it' And there are people over the age of 18 who have fluffy headcanons about them too, you know?

My second is 'why can't it be both?' Like, why can't Jade genuinely find mountains and nature fascinating while having it on a more meta level also be a small joke about how mountains are good places for dumping bodies?

Why can't Floyd like Takoyaki while also NOT wanting to eat his best friend?

Why can't the Leeches be a mafia family while still having Jade and Floyd, who are literally still teenagers, be multidimensional characters who have priorities and like other things than just 'haha murder'?

Sure, those jokes and influences are there, but they are not the end-all-be-all of the characters? This just feels like a very one-dimensional way of looking at these characters.

And isn't TWST's entire thing that appearances can be deceiving? In a way I feel like Jade's love of mountains being viewed as 'oh he dumps bodies there because he's a scary ocean monster and has thus probably killed people before so of course that's why' is a very surface-level reading and understanding of him as a character— it just sounds like something some random student who has only seen him from afar and doesn't actually know him as a person would think.

And it's a similar thing with the Takoyaki. The surface-level reading would be 'if he likes eating Takoyaki, which has octopus in it, that must mean he wants to eat Azul too! Because Floyd is big and scary and has probably killed people before' To me it also sounds like something Ace or Grim might think before Book 3.

And, while I'm not gonna deny the Tweels have almost certainly murdered (or at least gotten close to it) people before, in a way it just feels kinda...idk, mean-spirited? To say, for example, that Jade can't just have nature be a thing he enjoys for its own merits, that he's not allowed to have that as just a thing he genuinely likes and there has to be some deeper, meta reason for why. Or that Floyd can't just enjoy Takoyaki and probably tease Azul with it but also not actually want to eat him because he likes him and wants him around. To me that kinda feels like sucking all the joy and interesting nuance out of a character, in a way.

And implying that the people who don't ascribe to the same view as you are kids also feels somewhat infantilizing? Like, it just comes off as saying that the people who disagree haven't thought about it hard enough or just aren't smart enough to get it, and I just feel like that's not a great stance to take in any kind of discussion. Quite a flimsy way of trying to discredit the opinions of those who disagree, too.

I am NOT trying to start any kind of 'drama' or 'attack OP' or anything like that; I'm genuinely very confused— I just feel like one of us, either OP or me, is misunderstanding something here

[transmutationisms]

I'd be interested to hear more of your thoughts on Melissa Broder's milk fed

i thought it was so lacklustre. like for a book that sets itself up as a work of psychological realism there's almost no attention to rachel's actual thought process as she moves through the (extremely linear and teleological and clinically approved) steps of 'recovery'; instead what we get is literally a timeskip after which she tells us she's been 'eating normally' for some weeks. like lol ok. her restriction itself is given a singular and hackneyed explanation---mommy issues---and miriam literally only exists as a fat lampshade for rachel to temporarily transfer her feelings onto instead. we don't even get any suggestion that miriam had, idk, any kind of erotic or sexual interest in rachel's eating behaviours, which would have been the obvious place to go imo. there's just not any new ground being tread here---anorexia makes rachel('s life) smaller because it's how she controls herself to try to gain maternal approval. wow where could i possibly have heard that one before.

i tjink a fundamental problem with a lot of anorexia in fiction is that people think anorexia is more interesting than eating, but they also think they have some kind of social responsibility to make their characters 'recover' out of anorexia, which means essentially that they've trapped themselves into writing a story that ends boringly. 'milk fed' opens with passages that do a decent job of capturing the repetitive and compulsive nature of rachel's anorexia, but still hold reader attention. there's no corresponding passage for her 'recovery' or refeeding or weight restoration process, because broder is uninterested in these or perhaps squeamish about portraying them as being at all unpleasant (see again: assumptions about social responsibility). so, as 'milk fed' progresses, we get less and less of rachel's interiority (clichéd as it was) and more and more moments that only make sense on the assumption that the reader already knows the dsm diagnosis and can fill in the gaps themself.

i don't necessarily want to read realist fiction about recovery; it sounds roughly as boring to me as realist fiction about anorexia itself. but the asymmetry in broder's treatment of the two is extremely noticeable and makes the book read like an episode of a medical soap. it's insane to me how much hype this book got as boundary-pushing or what the fuck. make rachel fat or give miriam some opinions or something idk. most people who write about anorexia are the last people who hve anything interesting to say about it because they're attracted to it as a form of writing a personal confessional and then shoehorned into writing a recovery story around the embrace of psychiatric normality. worst possible combination of obvious self-insert ana characters who then undergo a magical transformation conveniently just off-page and return to us Happy™️ and Healthy™️ like some kind of total system re-code of their every desire. which is also why 'milk fed', despite making gestures toward a political situating of eating and body weight, is ultimately unable to conceptualise either of these things through any lens other than (the barest outlines of) rachel's individual erotic desires.

[thehyperfixationspeedrunner]

HIIIIIIIIIII WE HAVENT TALKED IN A WHILE HRU

WHICH HYPERFIXATION ARE YOU ON NOW HUH 👀

AND WOULD YOU REC?

HIIIIIII, I FINISHED HIGH SCHOOL YESTERDAY AND I'M IN EXAMS SEASON SO I'M NOT DOING GREAT, HRU???

Girl, you just opened a big bag of worms cause this hyperfixation has taken over the other like 4 that were in my mind at the same time (one of them since January).

There are just a few things I have to warn you about the show before I throw my words at you: there is blood and violence, they do not shy from that; there is physical abuse mentioned and shown (although it's just shown in one scene, if that's the only thing bothering you but you wanna watch I can tell you when to skip); there is cursing, nothing major just what a high schooler would normally curse; abusive relationships and bullies are subjects that are heavily spoken about; death, don't know if that's a trigger but better safe that sorry and I'm pretty sure that's it

First, I have to ask you two questions:

Do you like supernatural stuff?

Do you like gays?

If the answer to both of them is yes, then you need to watch dead boy detectives. It's a series about two ghosts (Edwin Payne- "the brains", spent 70 years in hell, sassy little bitch, from London 1916 and speaks like it, gay, a fucking nerd, somehow everyone is in love with him except his crush (more like the crush doesn't know that he is in love with him, but whatever), so much trauma it's insane, tumblr's favourite; Charles Rowland- said crush, "the brawns", so bisexual but doesn't know it yet, do you know that character that is so charismatic and funny but actually has so much fucking trauma? That's him, daddy issues (because of abuse), from 1989, has a magical bag, so fucking british, so fucking protective of his friends it's insaneee like he will kill someone for them) and these two ghosts are detectives and solve cases to ghosts so they can move on to the afterlife.

This show is so fucking well written, you have no idea, like Charles and Edwin's relationship is so unique, because even though there is a romantic subtext they are best friends before eveything and they know eachother so well it's so rare to see such good friendship where they are so open with eachother in media specially between men (also their ship name is painland, if that's not enough reason to watch the show idk what is).

Another great example of the amazing writing is that characters like Charles normally have their trauma super overlooked, but in this show his trauma is treated so well, there is still a lot to work from it (reason 484837 why I need a season 2) but the other characters actually see his trauma and acknowledge it, it's so fucking satisfying to me because these type of characters are always my favourites but they always have that lack of development (I sometimes confuse between my mutuals who likes what but I'm pretty sure you have read hoo so you know Leo Valdez? Yeah, that's what I'm talking about).

Speaking of development, they do not leave characters behind. There is this character called Niko Sasaki, who is this girl who loves anime and loves love and is always so positive and so sweet and always thinking of others. Now, when someone describes this type of character, my first reaction is "oh, so she's just the comedic relief who is going to have a shallow ass personality" (no shade to that type of characters, shade to the writers who leave them behind), BUT SHE'S NOT. She also has her traumas (dead dad, literally almost dies, more shit that I don't wanna spoil) and they acknowledge it and they develop her. She may not be one of the main focuses of season 1 (I'm pretty sure if we get a season 2, she's gonna have more screen time because of... [spoilers]) but she still has some character development, in the 3rd episode they are solving a pretty brutal case and she says that she doesn't want to be part of it because she litterally almost died the previous week and it's totally okay, she stays at home watching scooby doo and eating noodles, again so fucking satisfying.

Since we're talking about Niko, I have to talk about the dynamics of this show because OMG THE DYNAMICS OF THIS SHOW. Like, you look at the way I described Niko and the way I described the boys and you would think that they would focus on Niko and Charles relationship, right? The two charismatic kids, makes sense. Wrong, it's actually Niko and Edwin's. At first, you're like "you're gonna pair Mr. Horrible at relationships with other people and hates physical touch with Ms. Loves love and hugs fucking everyone?" BUY IT WORKS, IT WORKS SO GODDAMN WELL, IT'S INSANE, they easily became my favourite dynamic of all times, it's so fucking good. Actually, Charles and Niko is the only dynamic that isn't really developed in this show (which is a crime honestly, how could they).

Another thing is that there is one (1) antagonist out of four who isn't likeable. And that fucker is litterally Crystal's abusive demon ex (I've realised now that I haven't talked about my queen yet, she's a bitch, she's a physic, she's fucking badass, she doesn't know who she is until the 8th episode (not in a philosophical way, she litterally loses her memory) and her dynamic with Edwin is fucking hilarious, it's an on going competion of who gets to be the bitcher). There is a witch who is immortal, kidnaps young girls to feed to her snake and has an obsession with getting revenge on the boys and Crystal (they hadn't met Niko when they confronted her for the first time), but she serves cunt everytime she's on screen and she's so hilarious, you love to hate her and deep down you also love her. There is a cat king who is the reason Crystal, Edwin and Charles get stuck in the town they spend the season (they live in London, the town is somewhere on the US coast, technically it's just Edwin who is stuck, but they're all ride or die) all because he wants to fuck Edwin but Edwin doesn't, but his hilarious and annoying in a funny way and a loser and a simp. There is a woman from the afterlife office who spends the whole season trying to catch the boys (who are running away from death, it's a whole thing), fails and ends up stuck with them, I just got mad at her when she interrupted a love confession, but we got it later so it's fine. Then there's David the demon (yes, that's his name, yes, that's hilarious) who is Crystal's abusive ex, is able to get inside her mind whenever he wants and is just so fucking annoying (but is such a great simbol of abusive relationships and how much they scare you even after it's over).

Also, no one, and I mean no one, in this fucking show is straight, whether it is confirmed or not it doesn't matter (although 4 of the nine recurent characters are canonically queer).

Don't know if you heard about it, but this is from the same universe as the show The Sandman and there are two cameos in this show (both Death and Despair get a scene).

There are two things that weren't perfect in this show: the fact that Charles and Niko got one (1) scene together (fucking crime) and the CGI, not that it's all bad it's just they focused on the more visual scenes that make you go uuhh and aaahhh but there is a roof where they sometimes talk where the CGI is so bad, but it's just background shit, do not decide not to watch because of it the only scenes like that are the roof scenes and a scene in the forest (again, background shit).

I did just spend around an hour writing all of this, you are not gonna read this whole ass essay, but just watch the show, it's on illegal sites Netflix (although if you have Netflix, put it, even if it's just background noise, we need the views, this is Netflix and a not that cheap queer show we're talking about)