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@iinvuarchived
it's hot, when you're going through hell and you're hating yourself, i'm feeling myself. it's hot, when you know that you're caught and you're getting pissed off, it's getting me off -`♡´-𐙚⋆
⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ rhee, 25+, pst ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆
guidelines / muses / mobile muses / wishlist / opens
selective & low activity.
01 / 2026 — replies are running on a queue (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
closed starter for @iinvu with landon caldwell.
landon could tell the frustration just from the force with which the front door fell back into its lock. “ so what did he do this time? ” him referring to the usual suspect of scottie, and the bane of his boyfriend’s existence. head peeked towards the door from where he stretched across the couch, one hand reaching over the back in invitation. “ is it better or worse than last week when he asked the ref whether he had brain damage? ”
bag drops to the floor with an unceremonious thud, on top of his shoes that are kicked off by the front door and possibly all of the shoes by said door. who cared about decorum, he was mere seconds away from suffering a brain bleed. " worse. he checked someone so hard they went through glass, and that same brain - dead ref flipped backward and hit his head on the damn bench. " he's saying all this as he traverses to the couch, finally nestling into the male's side with a scowl so etched into features it may never fade. " i don't think i'm making it to the morning. "
“i am not speaking to you like you’re an idiot.” not intentionally, but intentions didn't really matter in the heat of the moment. not in the middle of an argument, or apparently when it came down to a camraderie between co-workers. "touchy...?" head tilts slightly before sighing softly. "was it the hug? god, babe you know that was nothing more than friendly, honestly even less than that. it means nothing."
" and you're looking at me like i'm an idiot, too. " which was just the cherry on top. she was far from twenty - twenty vision, but tobi knew what she saw. contacts never failed her. " i know that it meant nothing to you. but what about ms. grabby hands? does she know that it means nothing? it didn't look like she did. "
“ don’t you dare do that. ” shifting the blame was inevitable. tobi was right. there were so many chances that she could have taken to tell audrey everything. where she’s failed her closest friend. hell, they were practically sisters. but how could she possibly ignore how they’ve felt about tobi this entire time ? “ we are both at fault. maybe we should tell her together. even if ... ” even if it costs them their most important friendship. lenora sighs deeply, her eyebrows threading together as she conjures up the worst possible scenarios. “ and leave our families and other friends behind ? sure, genius idea, tobi. ” breathe. this was both of their problems and she was taking it out on her. stupid. “ listen, i ... i’m sorry. i hate sounding like a total dick. this entire thing is ... makes me feel so ... ” awful ? terrible ? evil ? “ i feel on edge. like she’d find out before we get to tell her. ”
" together? like, all three of us sit down? " incredulous gaze stares at the girl before her. " do you want your family line to end with you? she'll kill us. it'll become a grizzly murder. " which they definitely deserved. a mistake was one thing, but repeating that mistake again and again was a choice. a bad choice. god, she felt nauseous. " no, i —— " exhales, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment before opening them again. " i know. me too. i can't even look her in the eye, and i feel like she knows something's off. " brows are laced with concern, worry, and fear. " i guess, out of all options, it would be best to hear it from us ... but i only want to tell her if we, " hands gesticulate between the two of them. " want to be together. even if she hates us and we'll be exiled and hated and probably cursed for a few generations. "
inhale through your nose and out your mouth ... very slowly. eddie should have known that this was coming. that he was going to need to have an insane amount of patience to have this conversation with milo. “ understand what you and i both want. like i said, i kind of hate the idea of not knowing what this is. where we’re going. ” it was the nicer way of saying ... please tell me if i’m wasting my time. “ no, milo, i have no idea. it’s like, i don’t know, you’re so into me and look at me in ways that i’ve never really been looked at before in the best possible way ... then i feel like you’re so far away sometimes. i don’t know what you’re thinking sometimes. ”
" but ... isn't it more fun not to know? " no. it definitely was not. he didn't believe it, either, but thinking about having a heart - to - heart was making his palms clam up. nobody had ever tried to pry such sentiment out of him either —— evading those conversations was a skill he honed masterfully. but eddie was staring at him with a determination that didn't look to be easily swayed. " well, i ... i am into you. " voice descends nearly into a mumble. gaze looks off to the side. " and i'd like us to continue doing this. maybe. if you want to. "
i should be doing drafts but i'm gonna try to completely move to a new blog today 😚 i'll be following / messaging the people i've been writing with later but the amount of work it takes to make a new blog + deciding i kinda hate my muses page and wanting to re - do it means that u will have to bear with me ok? <33
' i think you know better than most that i play better when you're ridin' me in the dressing room beforehand. i think i sleep better when you do it after a show, too. '
" i'm to be responsible for your performance and your sleep quality? my goodness. do you think i'm being adequately compensated for my work? "
' you know ... you're lucky that you're cute when you're not focusing on anything i say. do you do this all the time? '
" no, i promise that i'm always being attentive. but when you're exceptionally pretty, it's hard to pull off perfect multitasking. "
ilya rozanov: professional hockey player rage baiter – a series
PEOPLE WE MEET ON VACATION 2026 — dir. Brett Haley
Anaïs Nin, Delta of Venus
❛ i don’t think so, ❜ he said honestly—too honestly—his tone almost careless ❛ and—selfishly—i really hope you don’t. ❜ another truth spoken too easily, too saccharine. looking at his face, every tender syllable poured out automatically, like a confession he didn’t mean to make but couldn’t stop once it began. how could he do this ? his conscience had been circling around him for weeks. it was haunting him. he was better than this—more honest than this. he’d never meant for it to go this far, but the second he’d first pressed his lips against his, he’d already been gone. it had taken him everything not to do exactly this. and yet, here he was—finn’s face cradled in his hand, kisses too sweet, sweet enough to make him forget his sins. his eyes stayed glued to him, darkening slightly as he leaned closer, his other hand settling gently against finn’s cheek. palms warm, grounding; his thumb traced his face with careful affection. he couldn’t stop looking—at his eyes, his lips. he pressed two soft kisses there unhurried yet desperate. as if afraid he’d forget their taste, or the spark that flared in his chest every time he did. it was all too easy. and that's worst part of it. he pulled away just enough to speak, his voice soft, almost reluctant. ❛ i didn’t lie. . . i have practice in the morning—i’ll have to leave earlier tonight. ❜ he admitted quietly.
he hasn't. not ever. he doesn't invite anyone to stay the night, he hated strangers, friends, bed buddies, experiencing the unique pleasure of memory foam and 800 - count egyptian cotton sheets. finn lived on carrots for two weeks to afford his sleeping arrangements, and he be damned if he let just anyone off the street enjoy it. but clay wasn't anyone off the street. he wasn't just his friend or bed buddy. if that were true, their lives would have been a lot easier. clay's words made him feel just as awful as he felt stirred. thinking, for even a moment, about their treachery made him nauseous; seeing the way he was looked at by his co - conspirator, feeling the way the pad of his thumb charts his flesh, savouring how he's still being kissed like he's wanted, made their treachery feel a little less treacherous. how could something so earnest come from something truly treacherous? every day he faces the trivial concern that one of them will come to their senses and decide that they shouldn't commit betrayal, but being kissed assuages those concerns. some of them, anyway. so mouth chases the kiss, hands enveloping the other's own, and he kisses him again once more before muttering, " skip it. let her think you're going, and stay here. please? "
" well, call me crazy, but it does not seem like you are locking in — at all. " his finger toys with the corner of his script, the packet of paper already well-marked and beat up from the times he's gone through it — desperate to make a good impression. reed on the other end of the couch might as well be a million miles away with the way he can't seem to meet his eyes. admittedly, kade hasn't exactly been the most focused either, not since they shot that scene —christ, who knew reed would be such a good kisser ?? even better than, well . . . — but he could put that behind him. he had to. it came with the territory of being an actor, right ?? no matter if that hadn't even been the steamiest scene in the script. " reed, if i did something — it's best to just spit it out so we can get past it. "
" i am, " voice snaps, far harsher than his usual timbre, as if he desperately needed to establish the fact that he wasn't so callow as to let a kiss —— no matter how much he had enjoyed it —— rattle his resolve. because he had been that callow. that damned scripted kiss, which should have meant less than nothing, had apparently impinged his psyche and did unspeakable damage to his subconscious. and conscious. and every other thought that occupied his mind. " it's just ... i'm just not feeling well. everything is fine. everything's been fine since yesterday. " fantastically convincing, with face glued to a tattered script, still avoiding the male's gaze and voice so contrived it was like he was reading the day's headlines from the newspaper. " ... is everything okay with you? " perhaps he just needed to be reminded that this was a job, the kiss was a part of said job and his delusions were so one - sided he needed to move on.
the mask slips, a flicker of eyebrows the only movement to betray her amusement. she doesn't want to encourage him, encourage this — once a favor as the only sap with the supplies to keep the match from being postponed by someone bleeding out on the ice, turned familiar. turned ordinary. turned a moment that happens again and again despite her protestations. he smiles. once more, she relents enough to humor him. " i just don't want to be a medic for a fight club. they're the ones who get kidnapped and used as collateral by the rival gangs in the stories. " all fictional, but surely they were based on something. he certainly speaks like she already is one, and motions falter as he targets her with his testimony. " i let out steam without knocking people's teeth out, " she counters. after a particularly hard day at work, maybe she'd be more willing to see his point. " if you can believe it, it actually does not do a heart good to stress out so much. " pot dabs at lingering blood that's gathered on kettle's lip. lingers for a moment. " meditation. pottery. slowing down. do more of that, and maybe i won't be having to do this so much. "
smile is stretched and oozing of incorruptibility, as the star troublemaker and reigning champion of referee warnings. but it was just a game. and doctors existed for a reason. " i wouldn't let you get kidnapped, c'mon. who do you think i am? who'd attack me with antibacterial ointment if not you? " sure, that was it. it was about the antibacterial ointment that scottie complained about every time she whipped it out.
" do you find that meditation and pottery keep you calm? because you're dabbing at my lip really hard there. i don't think they're working. " not to mention that he can't even imagine kit making a vase, or a cereal bowl, or some salad spoons. forget the fact that countenance keeps flinching as bloodied cut is cleaned, he found something else to fixate on. " i know that doing this is the highlight of your day, but i'm going to move past that for a second to suggest: take me to a pottery class. save some people chronic internal bleeding. i'd suggest meditation, but that isn't really my thing. "
⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ to. @boysbye
" no, don't move yet, " hushed tone and gentle hands keep her frame still, " you're still bleeding, and i haven't finished bandaging your arm. " coffee table before them is littered with bloodied tissues and cotton balls, tubes of various ointments ( antibacterial, wound - healing, pain - relief, he spared no chance that she could get some sort of infection or hepatitis ) and bandage wrappers. he'd worry about the mess after ensuring she was properly taken care of. " you can't lose it without me there, elif. you know that. "
tongue pressed against the back of her teeth as hues took him in head to toe, almost in assessment. “ would you like an honest answer? ” willa hummed in a shielded jab, before the corners of her mouth curled into the grin she was holding back. perhaps it would be too much to consider his question metaphorical marking of his territory, but she swore there was a flicker of some displeasure there. “ he’s well aware we’re not exclusive. if that’s what you’re so concerned about. ” and his fit of jealousy would be futile had he known she already hadn’t spent the night in someone else’s sheets in months. hadn’t even wanted to when recalling the events of the previous night still made her heart race. “ but i prefer to keep the details between us. i don’t care for a reputation as one of your fuckin’ puck bunnies. ”
" well, no. you have a biased eye, " smile is boyish, a little knowing, and definitely distasteful. if he hadn't had already presented an oral recitation of their deeds the night prior, his smile certainly did. his feigned nonchalance isn't all that convincing, though: she's talking about being one of his puck bunnies, but there hadn't been any to speak of. not since willa. not since they kept running into each other —— in beds. " please don't call yourself a puck bunny. that label is too demeaning for someone who's as pretty as you. " rory wants to pass it off as a joke, but tone betrays earnest. frame leans in toward her, closer and closer, until chin ducks to murmur in her ear, " so, whom do you like better? "
looking at finn, chase wonders why he's so reluctant to make that final leap now when he knows they've been toeing the line for far too long — no matter if he spent the time after those almost moments pretending they never happened at all. perhaps he's spent too much of his life leaping far too easily. in spite of it all, a small smile pulls at his lips as he watches griffin, seeing the disgruntled expression across his face and the blush flaring pretty pink across his cheeks. it's hopelessly endearing and chase fights the stupid urge to say it again for real — call finn pretty properly just to see how he reacts. now really isn't the right moment for that, though, and chase isn't cruel. he doesn't want to be cruel to finn who somehow lights up the bakery every time he comes in even dragging with him an entire burden of exhaustion and dark circles under his eyes.
he just files the information away for later and pretends that his heart isn't still well on its way to jumping out of his chest. " hmmm — exactly. " chase lets go of griffin's shoulder, turning back to lie against the pillow and headboard once more — the perfect image of relaxed and belonging. it's just one night. staying one night is hardly a marriage proposal and chase really needs to stop overthinking the fact. his hand finds finn's thigh, patting reassuringly before it just settles there, broad and warm. " wasn't really in the mood to leave anyway — " he hedges, his other hand raising to stifle the yawn that cracks his face. " hopefully you don't snore, though. " even if finn did, chase thinks he would somehow find a way to make it seem endearing too.
when he had made the impetuous decision to ask chase to stay over, he didn't really consider what he'd do if he agreed. see, after he had asked, his biggest concern was chase saying no and just —— leaving. a theoretical rejection would mean he'd have to find another bakery that'd provide him with a triple shot red eye without question and give him the good croissants without giving him the stink eye for being overbearing. and then there was the little matter of him probably not being able to look chase in the eyes again, ever, until the day he dropped dead.
thinking too much would give him heart palpitations, and passing out because of hyperventilation wasn't exactly how he wanted to fall asleep, so he impersonates the demeanour of someone who considered this arrangement totally normal: his back comfortably nestles into broad chest ( if he was allowing himself to think, at all, he'd probably dwell on how inveterate it felt, how nicely their frames fit together despite having had no prior experience to go off of ) and he's pulling the hand that wasn't resting atop his thigh like it belonged there ( again, if he was allowing himself to think, he'd probably dwell again on how even such minute acts of intimacy made his heart beat so violently it practically hurt, and what he could reasonably deduce from that observation ) over to his side so he could use it as a pillow. never mind the several pillows he already owned. " my only redeeming quality is that i'm a quiet sleeper, " hands are readjusting the duvet, but not as a way to avoid eye contact this time. " if your arm falls asleep, wake me up. " a pause, and when some times has passed, he followed up with something he could only say while half - asleep, " thanks ... for staying. "
