#HEY IF SOMEONE WANTS TO SEND ME ASKS I WILL ELABORATE

[apyrrambles]

everytime I think about Judas and Al i take +10 psychic damage

[strangersteddierthings]

The Interview

Inspired by this post by @xoxoladyaz. Read on Ao3.

-

Eddie wakes up to one single missed call from Gareth on his private phone.

No one calls his private phone.

He dials back instantly.

"Hey Eddie," Gareth greets. He sounds tired.

"What's up? What's happened?" Eddie asks, a thousand and one scenarios running through his mind. Gareth is in Indianapolis, and Eddie's thoughts are filled with only his uncle back in Hawkins.

"Nothing's happened that we can't deal with, or rather, that I've already been dealing with. But, uhh, there's an interview you should watch. Let me send you a link-" there's a pause as Gareth does just that "-and just call me back after you've watched it. I know we usually ignore the shit people say about us but this- it's different."

"Okayyyy," Eddie says slowly. "I'll watch it."

They hang up without goodbye because Eddie's just going to call him back after the video. Opening his messages he sees the link, and then Gareth sent a follow up text you need to watch from 12:32 onward.

The video is nearly two weeks old already, and YouTube shows him a face he knows. Robin Buckley looks older but it's definitely her. Her hair isn't styled much differently than she had it in high school, just above her shoulders and a little wild. She's wearing a three piece suit in emerald green, slightly oversized on purpose by the look of it. She's sitting in a chair, cradling a grammy with one arm, as the interviewer sits across from her.

Eddie taps the screen and drags the progress bar closer to the 12-minute mark and listens. He hears the tail end of Robin's response to some question about her album before the interviewer asks what must be the question Gareth wants him to listen to.

'So, I think everyone is dying to know if you and Eddie Munson are friends. You're both from Hawkins, Indiana. Isn't that correct?' the interviewer asks.

Robin's smile slips a bit, 'I- uhh, this is going to be unprofessional of me but I made a promise to someone regarding if I was ever asked about Eddie Munson. So, can I have one minute to make a phone call before I answer your question?'

'Oh. By all means, make your call.'

Eddie watches as Robin is brought her phone by someone who is probably her personal assistant. She wastes no time in unlocking it and finding whoever in her contacts list.

'No time for formalities. I've been asked about Munson. Can I tell the truth?' Robin's mic isn't strong enough to pick up whatever answer she gets on the phone but she shakes her head to whatever answer she's been given. 'I told you, I love you more than this career and I've already got the grammy. I'll handle the fallout. It's not about me. It's about you.' What follows is a few seconds of silence before Robin nods and says goodbye, ending the call and passing the phone back to the PA.

The interviewer's eyebrows are up to her hairline in shock. 'That sounds ominous. You think it's career ending?'

Robin grins and it's almost feral. 'Corroded Coffin's fans have always been ruthless, and perhaps a bit heartless, so what I have to say will certainly set them on the attack. To answer your original question, yes, Eddie Munson and I are from Hawkins. We even shared band class in high school, but that's the end of what connects us. We are not friends, but we once were.'

'Can you elaborate on that?'

'Our friendship ended ten years ago when he ruined my best friend's life for fame and fortune, and Steve's never really known a day of peace since.'

Eyes wide, the interviewer leans closer, 'Steve? As in, Hey Steve, Steve?'

Robin nods, 'Just the one.'

'Are you prepared to talk about how one song ruined your friend's life?'

'That was the purpose of the phone call. Yes, I think people should know the truth. Munson vented his bullshit breakup rage into a song and fucked off out of town. A week after its release, his fans doxxed Steve. He wasn't out to his parents, you see, and Corroded Coffin's fans, Eddie Munson's fans, outed him. They sent hate mail to his house by the ton, it seemed. The fallout from that- the aftermath-' Robin cuts off as her eyes water and she swipes at them, smearing some mascara across her cheek. 'I'm sorry. I almost lost my best friend, the platonic love of my life, that day.

'It's public knowledge, what happened, you can look it up online if you know what to look for. But it is also so incredibly personal. I want to be the one to say this because it's important. What you do in life, it has consequences, and sometimes those consequences are for other people. Whether you think it will, or not. I'd rather people hear it from a human voice, from someone who loves Steve, and not the journalist view. No offense,' Robin shoots the interviewer a sweet smile.

'None taken, please continue.'

'Steve was hospitalized, I won't give the details,' Robin says, in a watery voice as she's clearly trying to not cry at the memory. 'When Steve was finally released from the hospital, there was no one but me to pick him up. And he's going through this while nursing a broken heart. He and Munson had only been broken up for maybe a month before Hey Steve came out.

'In less than two months, Steve had lost his parents, his home, all his belongings, and the man he thought he'd marry one day. And to top it off, that man gets to become rich and famous off a venomous, hate-filled song about their breakup. It talks about Steve like he's coward for not willing to be out, yet, and how... what's the line, about conformity?'

'Conformity holds your leash, baby, so run to the end of your chain and bark,' someone off camera shouts.

'Yes, that, thanks. Accusing Steve of picking 'conformity' over his love. Steve wasn't picking conformity, he was picking safety! And the worst part? The hate mail has never stopped. Steve lived with me and my family for a few months after getting out of the hospital before the hate mail got too much, and someone showed up at my childhood home, looking for him, threatening him. They had a gun. It was traumatic. I was still in my senior year of high school-' Robin cuts off, taking deep breaths.

The interviewer reaches across to place a comforting hand on Robin's, 'I can't even imagine what that must have been like.'

Once Robin has composed herself, she says, 'sorry, this is a lot. I've had ten years to come to terms with it, and I've waited seven for someone to ask me about Munson. I didn't think it would be this hard.

'And it's not- I can't blame Munson, or Corroded Coffin, for everything that happened. He doesn't control his fans. But he's never said anything about the treatment his fans give Steve. And if they're like this towards Steve, are they like this towards all his other ex's? Does Munson not care, or, almost worse, does he not even know?' she stops again, getting a faraway look for a moment before looking at the interviewer again. 'I had to help Steve move again. Just last month. They're still finding him. Sending him hate. Doxxing him.' Now she looks at the camera directly, "Eddie Munson. Call off your fans. Stop playing Hey Steve at concerts. Isn't a decade of hurt enough?'

There isn't a lot that makes Eddie feel anything these days, he'll admit. A decade of fame has made him a bit cynical and callus. However, Robin had said something that made his insides squirm. He swipes across the screen, rewinding the video to hear Robin say Steve had lost his parents, his home, all his belongings, and the man he thought he'd marry one day. Swipe. -ents, his home, all his belongings, and the man he thought he'd marry one day. Swipe. The man he thought he'd marry one day. Swipe. Marry one day.

He pauses the video. That can't be right. That has to be a lie Robin is adding. To garner more sympathy or make Eddie, and therefore Corroded Coffin, look worse. Steve and he had been young and naive when they'd dated. There was no way they'd have ended up married, even if Eddie had stuck around Hawkins longer. Gay marriage wasn't even legal when they broke up in 2013.

Eddie unpauses, skips forward to the end and listens to Robin speak directly to him. Stop playing Hey Steve? The song that rocketed Corroded Coffin into the limelight? No way. And call off his fans? Like they're dogs he's supposed to control or something. The video ends and the YouTube algorithm shows him a number of react videos. Eddie clicks on one and falls down the rabbit hole.

At first the algorithm shows him responses in his favor. Videos made by his fans defending him, or strategically picking apart what Robin had said. Eddie wants to agree with them, he doesn't think he's done anything wrong other than live his life, but then.

Then a video of a guy wearing merch sold during their tour last year plays. He's on the right side of the video while a screen recording is on the left. It takes him less than five minutes to get Steve's past addresses found. And Eddie is... well, he's a little horrified at how long the list is. At the short amount of time Steve's spent in any one place is.

The guy in the video reads out the state, city, and how long Steve lived at each address. The longest one is when Steve made the jump from Florida to Maine, where he lived for 19 months according to the video, and that was years ago.

And then the guy, he fucking starts to speculate about where Steve might have moved to next.

"We can't know for sure, but it looks like he headed back west? You can see from the last 3 addresses he's been just jumping state lines to the next place. I'm guessing Oklahoma, Kansas or Nebraska next. If Steve thinks he can try and ruin Corroded Coffin through Robin Buckley, then it's up to us to prove him wrong," the guy is saying, and Eddie thinks maybe this guy is just exaggerating but the comment section is already filled with other people saying vile shit about what they should send to Steve or what they'd like to do to him physically and-

Eddie clicks off the video, to the next recommended. The more he watches, the angrier they seem to get. He goes to the search bar and looks for new react videos.

He finds that everyone has an opinion. He watches videos where his own fans express their disappointment in him. They talk about how Corroded Coffin runs an antibully campaign and then allows their fans to bully an ex and for not calling out the ones doxxing people, wanting to know which was the reason - does Eddie not know, or does he not care? Eddie didn't know. Truly. But he can't help but wonder if he didn't know because he didn't care.

He'd written all his feelings into a song, and now that he's older, he can see that a lot of what he was feeling is an exaggeration and dramatization of what really happened. But the point is, he'd written out his feelings and moved on.

The man he thought he'd marry one day.

His stomach twists uncomfortably as Robin's voice rings in his mind.

He continues his spiral down YouTube until Gareth calling him again breaks through and he answers.

"How is this the first time I'm hearing about Robin's interview?" Eddie demands.

"You've got a damn good PR team, that's how. I guess you fell down the rabbit hole, then?"

"How'd you-"

"Is been almost 4 hours since we talked. Doesn't take that long to watch a 30 minute video."

"Oh. Alright. So, why did you want me to watch the video? Am I supposed to respond to Robin?"

"No. People don't actually want to hear from you. They want to hear from Steve. And that's why you needed to watch. 'Cause Robin's announced that Steve's finally ready to make a statement. Robin's going to post it on her Twitter. Tonight. So, we've got to be ready. If anything Robin said turns out to be true, we might have a problem on our hands. A slander lawsuit being just the beginning."

"Fuck."

"What a way to sum it up," Gareth chuckles into the phone before his tone becomes serious, "hey, how are you doing, though? With it all?"

He thinks about it, and how he really feels, before answering. "It's been years since I've thought about Steve, y'know? I... I've had that luxury. I didn't know.... Did you?"

"No. Hell no! I'd of said something. I mean, shit man, we run an antibully campaign 'cause high school was shit to us. If I'd known at all we'd have been telling them to fuck off. Harassment's just what they call bullying adults."

Eddie swallows. "Guess we just have to wait and see what Stevie has to say."

"I'd come sit on the couch with you and refresh twitter frantically but, well, Indy's a bit of a ways off. I'll call after Robin's posted, then?"

"Yeah, man. Let's see the damage," Eddie sighed. "Talk to ya later."

"Bye."

Eddie digs out his laptop and pulls up Robin's twitter page. He adds an auto-refresher extension and sets it to refresh every minute before opening his phone and pulling up YouTube again.

[traumxrei-archive]

【 not-so-secret admirer 】

NRC launches lockers for valentine's day where students can anonymously place gifts for their crushes. Now it was only a matter of not getting caught by said crush... (ft. jamil viper, ace trappola, floyd leech)

gn! prefect, word count: 2.2k

a/n: happy (belated) valentines day !! bringing you basketball club boys and extra soft valentine's day fluff ^^ good luck to everyone who's weak to fluff <3

jamil viper

When Jamil first heard about the Valentine lockers, his mind did flash to a certain resident of Ramshackle. But he desperately pushed the image out of his mind, telling himself that he was too busy. Which was technically the truth. He barely had time to himself that week, with how the assignments were starting to overlap with his extracurriculars.

But still, he…managed to make something. Combining some alchemy into cooking, he made a small box of chocolates that wouldn't melt unless eaten, complete with fillings that he knew the Prefect would enjoy.

It was his intention to give it to them. If he ran across them in the hallways he would give it to them, he told himself. If he found himself somewhere near the lockers, then he would put the gift in their locker.

But what Jamil wasn't expecting was for Kalim, of all people to send him to the lockers.

"C'mon, Jamil!" Kalim said cheerily. "I've already checked mine and I got lots of nice messages, so you should check yours." At his pointed stare, the white-haired added, "H-hey, I didn't eat any of the chocolate, I promise!"

So that was how Jamil ended up in front of the dreaded Valentine's lockers. He stared at them dejectedly as he started to walk toward where the second-year lockers were.

And that was when he spotted the Prefect, pacing a few meters away. He stopped in his tracks, the box of chocolates feeling that much heavier in their presence.

He couldn't help but call their name, despite his nervousness, "Prefect." Their eyes met his and they froze lightly, clearly not expecting there to be another person around.

"O-oh, Jamil," They said, a nervous undercurrent running through their words. "What brings you here?"

"I was about to check my locker," Jamil carefully eyed the flowers in their arms. "Did you come back from checking yours?" The flowers were beautiful, blooms of lilies and carnations artfully arranged into one bouquet.

"Huh?" He saw how their shoulders jumped— a strange, almost knee-jerk reaction. "Oh, this is– it isn't for me."

"Ah," Jamil couldn't help but swallow, a suffocating feeling starting to grow in his chest because…his crush liked someone else. He couldn't show them that he was sad. He looked away from the bouquet, and his eyes— unfortunately— landed on the locker that they were standing in front of.

"Were you….about to give those flowers to Riddle?" Jamil knew he shouldn't ask. He knew that it would only hurt him more if he knew the details, and yet he didn't take back his words. Silence stretched out between them and Jamil wanted nothing more than to leave.

But then they spoke.

"The…flowers," Their words were so very careful, their eyes flicking back and forth between him and the flowers. "They're actually for you."

For…him?

The pressure in his chest lifted, and he exhaled in disbelief. His eyes scanned the lockers and sure enough, his name was one away from where they were standing. Did that mean what he so desperately wanted to believe that it meant?

And maybe Jamil had been too quiet for far too long because they started elaborating, "Well, I did stop in front of your locker earlier, and I was just worried that you wouldn't…like it…so–"

"Actually," Jamil interrupted, closing the gap between them just a little. "I was here to put this in someone's locker too."

He pulled out the box of chocolates, gathering his courage before meeting their eyes, "But since you're already right in front of me, it's better if I gave it to you personally, right?"

There was a stunned smile on their face that Jamil wanted to commit to memory, the butterflies kicking in his stomach as he took the bouquet into his arms. He half-wanted to put the flowers aside, and take them into his arms to hold; if only to convince himself this was real. But he didn't have to, not when they had already tentatively taken his hand in theirs.

The corner of his own lips turned upward as he pressed a lingering kiss to their knuckles, "So…would you be mine, ya ruuhi?"

note: > lilies mean "affection for loved ones" and carnations mean "fascination and love" in flower language ^^ > ya ruuhi means "my soul" in arabic >:D

ace trappola

The Prefect was…being shifty today. That wasn't a regular thing, no. Usually, the people being shifty was Grim, and that was usually because he didn't do some assigned homework and was going to copy off someone else. (Not that Ace wouldn't do the same.)

But Ace couldn't help but notice the way they flinched every time he was near, the strained smile and the way they kept glancing at him. He feigned ignorance because it was better if they didn't realize he noticed.

If he didn't know any better, he would say that he was making them nervous. But why would the Prefect of all people, be nervous because of him?

Today was Valentine's day, wasn't it…? That was when it clicked.

Ace let a smug smile settle on his face. Maybe…the Prefect liked him? So they were going to confess to him on Valentine's Day? The feeling of fondness all but ballooned in his chest as he waited for them to pull him to the side and confess.

But his impatience getting the best of him as the day came to a close. Was he reading the signs wrong after all? Did he really fool himself into thinking that his crush on the Prefect was requited?

And that was when Ace, while most definitely not sulking at all, saw them turning a corner. Curious, Ace followed behind them, watching as they scanned the lockers, a wrapped gift in hand.

And before he could stop himself, he walked up to them, snatching the box with a smirk, "Now that's just boring~"

"Wh– Ace Trappola! Give that back."

He held it out of their reach, "I mean, if you wanna confess, at least have the guts to say it out loud. Isn't confessing anonymously kinda cheating?" He glanced at the lockers, finding his name right in front of where he was standing. But he needed them to say it out loud for him to beleive it.

"I…I don't know what you're talking about," They huffed, finally leveling him with a less-than-friendly glare. "Now give it back."

"Don't wanna~" Ace said, leaning into their space a little more. "Besides, aren't these for me anyway?"

"How did you–?" They smacked a hand against their own mouth and Ace couldn't help but laugh. Half because he found the whole situation funny, and half because he was glad that he wasn't wrong. There was a pout on their face when he was finally done laughing.

He was grinning ear-to-ear now, spinning the box like it was a basketball, "It doesn't take a genius to figure out, with the way you were acting, Prefect. So, you like me that much, huh?"

"A terrible choice, I know," They said, shoving at his shoulder lightly. "Open it then, Mr. Genius."

Ace carefully tugged at the ribbon, the paper falling away to reveal a familiar-looking box of chocolates. He inhaled sharply, "No way— Did you get me those chocolates I was raving about a few months back?" He distantly remembered bragging about the expensive box of cherry-filled chocolates that his parents got him for Christmas, but he wasn't expecting this.

"Well…you said you wanted them." Their reaction was far too nonchalant for Ace's liking, and he had to hide the flush that was threatening to take over his face at the thought of them remembering such a trivial thing.

"That's so…stupid," Ace huffed, ruffling their hair wildly. "But…thank you." He felt the butterflies kicking wildly in his stomach when they smiled at him, and he knew he had to do something, or else he would end up doing something embarrassing.

"Wanna skip studying and do something fun?" The words were out of his mouth in a rush, and he felt a plan formulating in his mind as he grinned. "C'mon, I'll pay for snacks. And you're not gonna refuse your new boyfriend, right?"

floyd leech

Floyd wasn't the type to be concerned over a trivial holiday like Valentine's Day. But being unconcerned didn't mean he was completely uninterested. Contrary to popular belief, Floyd Leech did think about mushy stuff like feelings. Especially since he realized his feelings toward one particular shrimp…

Floyd grinned sunnily, staring at the hoard of people in front of the Valentine's lockers. He wondered if Shrimpy was among those minnows. Then again, why would they be? Surely they weren't going to give anyone a gift today…right?

He turned a corner, his feet bringing him to Class 1-A's lockers. There seemed to be a buzz happening in front of one of the lockers. Floyd meandered closer, ignoring the way the minnows paled upon seeing him.

Once he finally got to the front of the crowd, he could see students taking turns placing different gifts into an overly-full locker. Floyd tilted his head in contemplation. Who in Class 1-A was that popular? It couldn't possibly be Crabby, right? Sure, he bragged about being popular, but there was no way Floyd ever believed in his words.

That was when someone managed to wrangle the locker shut with a particularly loud slam, and Floyd caught a glimpse of the name on the locker.

It was his Shrimpy's name. Floyd blinked, eyes going from the name on the locker to the gifts that lined even the outside of the locker. His Shrimpy was that popular…?

To which his brain answered with, of course they were that popular. It was natural that someone who resembled sunlight dancing across the ocean's surface would be popular. If Floyd's face split with a grin at the very sight of them, then of course there were others who felt the same.

And just like that, Floyd's jovial mood had flipped itself on its head. He shoved out of the crowd, uncaring of the stares that followed him as he scowled. He didn't know who he was upset with, simply that he was upset because Little Shrimp really was too far out of his reach.

In his state, he didn't notice someone calling for him until a hand touched his arm, "Floyd…?" Floyd's head snapped toward the voice, finding the little shrimp standing there wide-eyed.

Seeing them right in front of him put a bitter taste on his tongue, "Go away, Shrimpy." That wasn't what he meant to say. But if they didn't go away, then he was going to do something stupid.

"Did something happen?" Shrimpy asked, glancing him over. "You don't look hurt."

He rolled his eyes, "Why dontcha go play with all your fans instead?" He saw a frown stretch on their face, their brows wrinkling at his harsh words. And he so badly wanted to reach over to smooth their brow but instead he looked away.

"Floyd Leech, just what are you talking about?"

"It's just…Shrimpy's so popular," It felt childish to complain about such a thing in front of them. "'N it's not fair, because…" Because what? Because Floyd harbored feelings for them that he never confessed? Those other minnows didn't know that. He couldn't exactly blame them.

"Ah," They snapped their fingers. "Are you upset that I got more gifts than you? At the lockers?"

Floyd groaned, "No way—"

"Here," They held up a box for him to take. "For you."

Floyd took the box gingerly, still frowning all the while, "Shrimpy, if this is a pity gift, Imma squeeze the life outta you." Still, a part of him still hoped that there was a chance.

He opened the gift, untying the bow and lifting the lid. Inside was…a scarf. Teal in color, he could see an eel motif in the scarf's design, a dopey smiley face, and a tail at either end of the scarf.

When he looked up, the Little Shrimp this cute nervous expression on their face, "I told you it was for you. It's just…I thought you wouldn't…get to know it was from me."

…Oh.

So they were on their way to gift this to him? Anonymously? Well now he really wanted to squeeze them.

And so he did, he dropped the box with a laugh, snaking his arms around them, "Shrimpy~ I love it~ How'd you even find that thing~?"

"I-I made it," They confessed, looking a little startled by the sudden embrace. "You said you didn't like the grey scarves of your dorm uniform, right?"

"Aha, I remember that," Floyd rubbed his cheek against their head, feeling so elated with the fact that they were here for him. Him. Shrimpy liked Floyd Leech and not any of those other minnows.

"Hey, Shrimpy~" Floyd grinned once more. "Doesn't that mean we're dating now?"

"Wait, you like me back?" They squeezed out, and it was Floyd's turn to be disappointed.

"C'mon Shrimpy, I thought you'd figure it out by now," Floyd shook his head before picking up the scarf. "Then shouldn't we do something to celebrate? Ooh, how about we go to the Lounge and raid Jade's snack box? And I've gotta show off to the world that Shrimpy's made me such a cool scarf~" Floyd tugged them along as he rambled about their plans. They piped up a couple of times, but other than that, they seemed happy enough to be lead wherever he wanted.

Good. There was no need for them to go to their locker. He could buy them all that and more, now that they were his.

ty ty for reading all these valentine's drabbles ? ficlets ? valentine's stories !! if you enjoyed and would like to read more of my works, come check out my masterlist <3

[tkwrites]

Good For You - Quinn Hughes x ofc

gif from @gabelandeskog

Title: Good For You

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Pre-established: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts (ofc)

Summary: Quinn and Sarah have a discussion about and decide to stop using condoms before putting that decision into practice. A question we’ve all been waiting for is finally asked.

Warnings: smut (18+ only), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up unless you’re in a consenting relationship!), cum play (sort of?), if I missed anything, let me know!

Word count: 4,900

Comments: I live! 

After two heavy snapshots, steeped in feelings, I’m back with some good old fashioned smut (with lots of plot, of course, because I am who I am). Thanks to the many Nonnies who requested this. I’d already started writing it when you sent this, but your asks challenged me to combine both your requests. I hope you enjoy, and it lives up to your expectations! If you did enjoy, please let me know by commenting, sending in an ask or reblogging! I love reading your comments, asks and suggestions! 

Anonymous asked: hey! Another request idea… I was rereading the fic about Sarah being overwhelmed before meeting Quinn’s parents and when they’re talking about the WAG jackets, sarah mentions that they aren’t official yet. Can we get fic of Quinn officially asking Sarah to be his gf? Seriously love readying your stuff! 

Anonymous asked: I love how much you actually show the communication between Quinn and Sarah, it makes it so much more real and overall I just love your writing ❤️❤️ I noticed how as their relationship progresses, they decide not to use condoms. Will we get to see this conversation in the future? I'd also love to see when they officially decide to be together with labels and all xxx

Good For You

A Quinn & Sarah snapshot

“Hey, Quinn?” Sarah called, walking up the stairs. 

“Yeah?” 

She found him on the suede couch, reading a book. 

Sitting at his feet, she smiled when he moved them into her lap. “I wanted to talk to you about something.” 

“Okay,” he put the marker in his book and rested it on his chest. 

Color flooded into her cheeks. 

“What?” he asked, unable to hold in a nervous laugh at her sudden blush.

“I just,” she paused to lick her lips, trying to screw up her courage. “I wanted to let you know I had an IUD put in last month.” 

“What’s that?” 

“It’s the most effective form of birth control. It’s pretty much as effective as celibacy.” 

He paused, unsure where this conversation was going. When she didn't elaborate, he asked, “So what did you want to talk about? Just that you have it?” 

“Well that and —” she knotted her fingers together, “since it’s super effective, and we’re only seeing each other and have been for a while, I wondered if maybe you wanted to…” she trailed off. 

Quinn got the feeling he was supposed to know what she was talking about, but he was clueless. “If I wanted to, what?” 

Chewing on her lip, she guessed it was time to just spit it out, “I wondered if we both get STI tested, and only if you want to, we could try not using condoms all the time.” 

He felt his eyes go wide. “What?” 

“I mean, only if you want to. If you feel more comfortable with condoms, that’s totally fine.” 

“Are you joking?” he asked, scrambling to sit up. The book slipped off him and fell to the wood floor with a sharp slap. “Of course I want to. Did you think I was going to turn down that offer?” 

“I don’t know.” 

He moved to kneel, crowding into her space. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, feel it in his fingertips. “Can we try now?” 

A laugh split her mouth into a pretty smile, but she put a hand to his chest to stop him from leaning closer. 

“We need to get STI tested first.”

“I’m clean,” he said.

“As far as I know, I am too, but I would feel better if we both got tested, knowing neither of us has slept with someone else in quite a while.”

He looked crestfallen. 

“It’s not that I don’t believe you,” she hastened to add, “I’ve just heard horror stories of girls whose boyfriends didn’t know they were carrying something. Most STIs affect women, you know, and men just pass them along.” 

His eyes went wide, “really?” 

“Just another joy of being a woman.” 

“Thats bullshit.”

“Yep,” she agreed, popping the last letter. “So It’s not that I don’t believe you, but I really need that proof for my own peace of mind before I’d feel comfortable.”

“Yeah,” Quinn agreed, “of course. I’ll talk to Roman about it tomorrow.” 

“I’ll message my doctor,” she said with a shy smile, pulling out her phone. 

Logically, Quinn knew they needed to talk about this before anything could happen, but the thought that he might get to fuck her bare buzzed in the back of his mind so intensely, he wished she had waited until it was an actual possibility, even if that was impossible.

When he asked Roman about it between breakfast and video the next day, the trainer immediately went into crisis mode, “what kind of symptoms are you having?” 

“None. I'm just — I want to be safe.” 

He was going to tell him that the girl he was seeing — he was getting so sick of using that phrase — asked him to, but that seemed like it was putting all the blame on Sarah. While she did ask for it, he'd just never considered it something he should do. Now that he knew, he was more than happy to do it.

“You're sure? You can tell me, you know.” 

“I know. No symptoms. I’m just making sure.” 

Roman looked at him appraisingly. “Are you dating someone new?” 

Quinn was a bit surprised he hadn't heard about it. It seemed to him it was the only thing the guys chirped him about lately. 

“Yeah.” 

“Good for you,” he said approvingly. “Glad to know you're being safe.” 

Quinn felt a chagrinned smile spread over his face. 

“Well, I’m glad to know your girlfriend is safe at least,” Roman said with a laugh. 

How was it so easy for him to whip that word around? 

“Go to Doctor Jamison's after practice. I'll put in an order for you. They'll just need a blood sample.” 

The results took two days. By that time he was on the road. Thankfully, not for too long. Only one game.

He sent her a screenshot of the panel results. All negative, mercifully. He didn't expect to be positive, but he hadn't checked while he was with or after he broke up with June. 

She sent back a screenshot of her own test panel, also all negative. 

It was suddenly very real. The idea of coming home to Sarah was even more enticing than usual. 

He’d fucked girls bare before, he knew the sensations that came along with it, but he’d never fucked Sarah bare before. He’d tried, and she’d insisted on using condoms. He wasn’t going to make her uncomfortable, and he wasn’t going to give up sleeping with her. If that meant he had to wear a condom, he’d do it. 

Now that the possibility of making love to her without one was on the horizon, he couldn’t get it out of his mind. 

Looks like we'll be coming in about 2, he texted when they got to the arena. They'd fly home right after the game versus Calgary. Want to just stay at my place?

Wish I could, she wrote back, but I have class tomorrow at 8. I'll come to yours as soon as I'm done with work, though. 

“What's wrong, Q?” Brock asked, noticing his crestfallen expression. 

“Nothing,” he said, shoving his phone into his bag. “Sarah's just got class tomorrow morning so I won't see her until tomorrow night.” 

“Man, she's got you whipped.”

Quinn rolled his eyes, playing off the comment. If he protested, he knew they would just chirp him about it more, and there was no way he was going to explain his excitement to Brock. 

When the next evening finally rolled around, Quinn found himself pacing, a nervous excitement buzzing through his whole body. He’d never felt like this before. As if anticipation had been winding him up for 4 days straight. 

He’d tried his best to burn off as much energy as possible on a run that morning, but that felt like years ago now. Adrenaline was coursing through him by the gallon. 

He heard the elevator ding, and his stomach leapt. 

Before Sarah could scan in, the door flung open. Quinn was standing there, cheeks already flushed. 

She couldn’t help it, she gigged. 

“What?” 

“You’re just really cute,” she said.

Pulling her into the apartment, he resisted the urge to pull her upstairs straight away. Cool. He needed to be cool.

“Cute in a good way, right?” 

“Yes,” she assured, leaning up to kiss him. “In a very good way.” 

All of a sudden, the enormity of the situation crashed on him. He and Sarah had had sex 73 times, but this felt totally new. A frantic awkwardness took hold of his mind. How was he supposed to start this? Just like every other time? Every other time, it happened so naturally.  

“Hey,” she said, grasping his wrist, trying to stop the overthinking she could practically see scrolling across his face. 

He blinked a few times and met her eyes. “Sorry. I’m so… I mean, I’ve never anticipated something like this for so long.” The words were falling out of his mouth before he really had a chance to think through them. 

“Yeah, I get that,” she said. “I’m not sure I have either.” 

“I don’t want to fuck it up,” he admitted. 

A soft smile took over her face. “Quinn, it’s me. We've already had great sex. This is just another step.” 

Nodding, he took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before letting it out. Excitement reared in his stomach again, waging battle with his nerves. 

“I do think we should talk about it, though.” 

“Didn’t we already talk about it?”

“I mean, I think we should talk about what we want.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Like, what we're looking for.” She moved to sit on the living room couch, pulling him down with her. “I want to make sure we talk about it before we're in the heat of the moment so neither of us do something the other isn’t comfortable with.”

Quinn had never been with someone who communicated as much as Sarah. “It’s a product of the dead parents,” she’d told him when he asked her about it once, “life’s too short to not have the conversation.”

He sat next to her, “okay, so what do you want?”

“I want to feel you fuck me bare.” 

The frank way she said it made his whole body ring.

“And I want to feel you come inside me.” It felt dangerous and exciting to say it out loud, but she couldn't get it out of her mind. 

“Really?” Quinn asked, voice lilted with surprise. 

“Yeah. I've been dreaming about it,” she admitted. For the past few weeks, it seemed every time she would dream of him, the feeling of him filling her was so vivid that when she woke, her underwear would be soaked, almost as if she'd orgasmed in her sleep. “I'm guessing that's something you want, too?” 

He nodded. 

“Is there anything else you want?” 

He opened his mouth, then paused. 

She nodded, encouraging him. 

“I mean, there is something but it’s not a huge deal.” He was pretty certain she would at least consider it, but history had him trying to not get his hopes up.

“Tell me,” she urged, resting her hand on his knee. “I want to do what you want, too.” 

“I want to come on you,” he admitted, the words coming out all in a rush.

Eyes widening, Sarah couldn’t quite stifle the laugh that squeaked from her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she hurriedly back pedaled, seeing the hurt on his face, “I’m not laughing at you, it’s just — with the look on your face, I was bracing myself for something super kinky.”

“June hated it,” he said quietly. “She didn’t like cum at all.”

“So did you just wear condoms all the time?” 

“No. She didn’t like those either.” 

Her eyebrows furrowed together, an incredulous expression on her face. “You can’t have it both ways.” 

Something inside him unknotted. 

“I mean, did she insist you come in a tissue every time or something?” 

“Most of the time,” he amended, “sometimes I could come in her, but never on her.” 

June reminded Sarah so much of the mean girls she’d known throughout her life: content to demand things of others, knowing their social currency was enough to purchase obedience to all of those ridiculous rules. Part of her wondered if June even disliked cum, or if she was just trying to keep Quinn under her thumb. 

“Well I don’t have a problem with either. I mean, I don’t really love a facial, but other places are fine.” She paused for a moment, thinking about how often Quinn asked her questions, willing to learn, so he could please her better, “and, I mean, if you’re really invested in coming on my face, we can do it. I just don’t want it all the time.”  

He felt his eyelids grow heavy and he swallowed thickly. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah. A relationship is a two way street. You deserve to get the things you want, too. ” 

The relieved smile he gave her in response made her want to slap June across the face. Quinn was so, so good — attentive and genuine and so willing to learn and please. She wanted to do the same for him. Besides, it wasn’t like Sarah had some kink for cum, at least she didn’t think she did, but feeling a partners pleasure in such a tangible way, always gave her a deep sense of satisfaction. 

“Is there anything else you want?” he asked. 

“No. You?” 

He shook his head.

“Alright,” she said, “I think we should go upstairs.” 

Quinn stopped trying to play it cool. He was too excited to play it cool. He grabbed her hand and raced up the stairs, glad that she laughed as she ran along with him. 

She threw open the door to his room. Sarah loved this room. It was in the corner of the building, and huge windows looked over the beautiful Vancouver skyline. The sun was setting, turning the harbor and city windows yellow and pink, casting their colors on the walls and spinning everything else in the room into gold. 

Before she could get too caught in the view, he was spinning her around, catching her mouth in a kiss that sucked the breath right out of her. 

Clothing was discarded, and they tumbled into his bed. 

They surged together and Sarah moaned. It was already so much better. 

Somehow, there was less pressure. He didn't have to think about pulling away to make sure they were safe. He could stay focused on her without any other worries. Why had he been so nervous? This felt, like she said, like the natural next step. 

When he pulled back to line himself up, Sarah pressed her hand to his pelvis stopping the movement. 

“What?” he asked, worried he'd hurt her. 

“We need lube,” she said. “Or more foreplay. The condoms you have have lube on them, so they slide easier. Without that I'm worried…” she trailed off. 

He hadn't even thought about it. “Which do you want?”

“I mean, I'm always game for more foreplay.”

Grinning, he leaned down to kiss her, rolling his hips against hers again. As their tongues tangled, she groaned into his mouth. 

“Tell me when you're ready,” he whispered in her ear before tracing his lips over her jaw and down her neck. He licked and kissed, while one of his hands fondled her breasts, working her up to those hitched little breaths and small moans he loved so much.

“Quinn,” she breathed, a few moments later, as her temperature spiked. He hadn’t shaved in a while, and his beard rasped against her skin. She’d never liked facial hair before him, but somehow, with Quinn, it was more arousing than painful. Probably because of what else he was doing. God, he was good with his mouth. 

Unbidden, but not unwelcome or unfamiliar, images crashed into her mind — Quinns head buried between her thighs, his magic tongue working her to a climax she knew would be mind melting. The fantasies made her desperate for him.

“I need you,” she gasped, feeling herself grow slick against the muscular ridge of his thigh he had wedged between her legs.

“I’m right here.”

“I need you inside me.”

Her admission made Quinn feel drunk with desire. Out of his mind with it. He pulled back and her hand covered his to help him line up.

Pressing into her was better than he’d imagined. 

She was so hot and wet and, “shit, you’re so tight,” he ground out, the words scraping over a moan. 

Now that the barrier was gone, the time spent waiting to remove it was well worth it. Her smooth walls hugged him perfectly. 

Just to feel the contrast, he withdrew to the tip, pulling a sharp breath through his teeth at the rush of cool air before he drove back into her warmth. His jaw dropped and he made some unintelligible sound.

Slick and slippery, his thrusts moved with her seamlessly as she rose to meet him again and again and again.

“So good,” she breathed, reveling in the feel of him - every vein and ridge that had been smoothed by the latex covering before felt so prominent now and, “Quinn, you feel so good.” 

The praise went straight to his head.

“You feel so —” he broke off with a growl. “Shit, you feel so amazing, Sarah. I — I —” He babbled, nearly blurting that he loved her. He bit that back. This wasn’t the time for that. He wanted that to be special, not something spluttered in a lust-drunk moment. “I don't know how long I can last,” he admitted instead. 

God, he was something else. Flushed and flustered, eyes half hooded, body tight with exertion and control, he looked delicious. The fact that he wanted her this much made her chest feel full to bursting.

A moan escaped her mouth as pleasure washed over her face. Her eyelashes fluttered.

Just like that, he was done for. Cooked.

“I can't… I can't,” he stammered. At least he lasted longer than the embarrassing two strokes from their first time.

“Then don't,” she panted, rocking her hips into his. Her own climax building as the thought of him finally coming inside her brought her sensitivity to a peak. 

Groaning her name, he let his body take over, rhythm turning sloppy. 

As she watched, his eyes fluttered closed and with a final, powerful thrust, he sheathed himself to the hilt and let go. 

Feeling the very tangible result of his pleasure coat her walls made Sarah’s breath hitch. It only took a few more rocks of her hips before her body bowed, chest pressing flush to his as she pulsed around him, pleasure poured into her body. 

His mouth was open against her neck as he let out a sort of pained grunt.

Coming down, she melted into the soft mattress. 

His body followed hers, his weight pressing into her. He knew it was probably too heavy, but he couldn’t possibly hold himself up right now.

Quinns gasping breaths were crashing into her neck. Even though it didn’t make it any easier to catch her breath, she loved the solid weight of him on top of her.

Strength slowly returned to him and they both winced a little as he eased out. 

Flopping onto his back next to her, he groped for her hand. “Oh my god,” he breathed, once he had control of his voice. “That was incredible.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, pulling some breaths deep into her lungs.

After a few more moments of basking in the afterglow, she moved to get up. He tugged her back, “where are you going?” 

“I need to pee. I'll be right back, I promise.” 

He didn't shy away from watching her pad to the bathroom and then back to the bed. 

Halfway through their second round, he was determined to feel Sarah come undone around him when he wasn’t so sensitive from his own orgasm. Working his fingers to her clit, he traced gentle patterns over the swollen nub. 

A pleasured sigh left her lips. “Oh,” Sarah breathed, “that feels so good, Quinn.”

She had to take a moment to make her mind concentrate on one thing at a time. Anticipation coiled tighter in her belly as she focused on his gentle, deliberate touch, the heat of his body above and inside her, and then, the feel of his cock, which had been so dulled before, it almost felt completely new.

He dipped lower, gathering more of her arousal on his fingers to slip and slide over her bundle of nerves. 

He didn’t try to hide or hold back from how good it felt when she fluttered around him. Her name panted from his mouth. Only when he felt himself sliding too close to the edge, did he bite his lip to distract himself. 

Seeing Quinn hold on for her, trying to draw out her orgasm before his own, made tenderness swell within her. It mixed with the pleasure in her veins, bringing her closer to the peak. How the hell did June not see him this way? 

She gasped his name before admitting, “I’m almost there.” 

“What do you need?” he asked, wrenching his eyes open to look into her face. 

“Keep going, don’t stop. Don’t stop.” 

He shook his head. Never. He would never stop trying to please her like this and any other way he could. 

The steady rhythm he restrained himself into did its job, and she tipped over the edge. 

The coil in her belly finally shattering, her body seized up as pleasure fractured through her like lightning. His name flew from her mouth in a hoarse cry. 

Jaw falling open, he grunted his pleasure as her core sucked him deeper with every rhythmic pulse. God, she felt even more incredible. Sarah was already the best he’d ever had, and now, the sex had just gotten better. How was that possible? 

Gripping the sheets, he held on for her, moaning and muttering about how good she felt coming around him.

Sarah was mesmerized by him. His eyes were shut now, the skin around them taut, but his jaw was lax, nearly hanging open. His arms flexed, mountains and valleys of muscle on either side of her, straining with the effort of holding himself up. 

Electricity was still buzzing faintly through her veins, even as her high ebbed away. She couldn’t wait any longer to fulfill his fantasy.

“Come on me, Quinn.” 

Breath lodged in his throat and his eyes flew open, frantically searching her face. “You're sure?”

“Yes. I want you to. Come on me,” she repeated, running her fingers up her chest as an example. 

In a rush of want, he planked above her, quickly tugging on his cock, slick with her arousal, until he exploded, painting a sticky white line up her chest.

She seemed to preen under the assault, arching her back and moaning as if it was something she’d been waiting her whole life for. It was the hottest thing he'd ever seen.  

“Fuuuck,” he groaned as his limbs turned to jelly. 

He managed to lower himself on top of her without dropping, feeling his cum slick between their skin. 

“Holy shit, that was so hot,” he panted against her mouth. 

In a few minutes time, Sarah knew she'd be squirming for a shower, but for now, she felt extremely gratified with fulfilling this fantasy for him. She smiled, replaying the look of shocked elation on his face when she requested it.

Tracing her fingers up the bumps of his spine, she took in a deep breath and let it sigh out of her lungs, reveling in the weight of his body on hers. 

Finally catching his breath, he lifted his head, arching an eyebrow. “Where did all of this come from?”

“All what?” 

He traced a finger through the valley of her breasts, gathering some of his cum. “This,” he said, “your little exhibitionist streak when I came on you.”

“Oh,” she somehow blushed despite her flushed skin. “I wanted to be good for you. You’re so good to me all the time, I want you to feel that, too.” 

That simple statement, her admittance that she did it for him, made his head spin. How could he have ever thought what he had with June was love? He saw now how a love that met you half way blew her idea of love, which he knew now was more about control, out of the water. 

A few minutes later, Sarah’s sweaty, post-sex skin began to itch. “Shower?” she asked. 

“Snacks,” Quinn countered, his head still resting on the front of her shoulder. 

A laugh shook her chest, “shower then snacks.”

He supposed it could work.

A short while later, they were in the kitchen, and Quinn was having an argument with himself.

They needed to have a conversation, but it was terrible timing. He didn’t want her to think he was only bringing it up because of what happened that night. At the same time, he'd been thinking about it since before his parents' visit, when she'd brought up the WAG jackets. Now that his mom and dad had met her and approved, the only thing holding him back was his brother's approval. He wasn't sure he wanted to wait that long.

He was about to leave again, and the family skate was coming up after he got back. He wanted her to come, but he was so tired of introducing her as the girl he was seeing. Sarah was more than that, now. It didn’t fit anymore, and it was too damn long to keep saying. 

If they didn’t talk about it now, he worried there wouldn’t be enough time.

He glanced at her. She was wearing a shirt with a funny little cartoon of a fork and a spoon that said, ‘Spooning leads to forking’ along with a pair of matching shorts. Her thighs were bare and lovely in the dim light as she sat on the counter, eating a piece of cheese she’d stolen from the sandwich he was building for them to split. 

He put the top piece of bread on and decided he should just blurt it out. He didn’t think there would be a better way. The longer he waited, the harder it would be to bring up.

“What do you think about being my girlfriend?” he said, looking up.

Her hand paused on the way to her mouth, the cheese missing an almost cartoon-like bite  — a little scalloped half moon cut into one corner.

“Am —” Sarah paused, wondering if this was some kind of a trick question. “Am I not?” 

“No,” he said before his brain caught up with him. “No, you are, but I mean, like, formally?” 

Her head tilted to one side, “Of course. I’ve been thinking of you as my boyfriend for a few weeks now. Pretty much since you met Trav and the kids.”

A sigh breathed through him. 

“Did you think I was gonna say no?” 

“I don’t…I mean, I didn’t want you to think I was only bringing it up because of the unprotected sex thing.” 

“That is pretty terrible timing on your part,” she conceded, laughing. “It’s a good thing I…” she trailed off, stopping herself from continuing out loud. Why couldn’t she just come out and say it? So what if she was in her ridiculous pajamas in his kitchen? She’d brought them with her expressly because she thought they would make him laugh, and she’d been right. The delighted surprise that had escaped his mouth when he’d seen them was something she knew she’d treasure for a long time.

“A good thing you?” he repeated, hope ballooning in his chest. 

“It’s a good think I know you’re not just in it for the sex,” she said, lamely.

Quinn’s expression went from hopeful to distraught right before her eyes. “How could you think that?” he asked, his voice embarrassingly earnest.

“Quinn, I —” 

He cut her off, “I like so many things about you, Sarah. You’re smart and funny and you’re kind to everyone you meet, and you’re so dedicated to your work.” He was rambling now, but if she thought he was in this just for the sex? He would die of shame. 

“I like that you’ve never treated me like anything else but Quinn, and you’re always willing to meet me half way,” he said, his voice taking on an almost frantic quality as he tried to convey what she meant to him. “And I —” 

“Quinn.” 

The way she said his name made him stop short. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, her hand coming up to gently cup his jaw. “I was teasing. I know you’re not just in it for the sex. Someone who only wanted sex wouldn’t have waited four weeks to have it.” 

She had a valid point. 

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Quinn.” 

Leaning in to kiss her, he felt as if someone had struck a match, setting his heart ablaze. 

Settling into bed, Quinn remembered he hadn’t told her yet. 

“Hey, my family’s coming in for the finals. They’ll be here on the 20th.” 

“Oh,” she said, obvious disappointment on her face.

“Is that not…okay?” 

Feeling her cheeks blaze, Sarah realized she hadn’t shared that expectation with him yet. “It’s just…my last final is that day and I’ve kind of been looking forward to you fucking me silly as a reward for finishing.”

His eyes went huge, “oh.”

“It's one of the ideas that's kept me going, honestly.”

“I could still do that,” he said, the words rushing out of his mouth.

“With your family in the house? I don't think so.”

“At yours then.”

“With my roommates there?”

He bit his lip. “We could get a hotel?”

“Because that's not weird when you have people, let alone family, staying at your house.”

“I’ll tell them to come a day later,” he offered. 

“Would they buy that without an explanation?”

“Would I have to give them one?”  

“I don't know. Would you? My family would want to know. You’ll have to make something up.”

“You don’t want me to tell them they can’t come on the 20th because my girlfriend finally finished her classes and wants to be fucked all night?” he teased. 

Giggling, she smacked his shoulder lightly, “I think I might die if your mom knew that about me,” she admitted, part of her mind still caught on the open way he used the girlfriend title. 

He laughed. “I’ll just tell them we have a late team meeting, or something so it would be better for them to come in on 21st. It’ll be fine.” 

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist 

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[siriusleee]

For @glitterypirateduck Call of Duty Christmas Special. Author's Note: For the holiday season, I wanted to write some things for some of my mutuals I've met the past year I've had my blog. This is for @gazs-blue-hat, who is one of the most supportive people I've ever met. Christmas Song: Last Christmas Premise: You need a date for your family's Christmas dinner. Johnny is willing to be it.

This is stupid. The dumbest idea you’d had in ages, but the thought of going home this Christmas to see your sister snuggled up on the couch with her long-term boyfriend while your mother regulated you to helping in the kitchen was enough to make you do something stupid. 

It had started with a Facebook post someone else made as a joke. “$100 bucks and I’ll go to your family Christmas and pretend to be your boyfriend. $150 and I’ll kiss you in front of everyone and compliment your mom.” You’d sent a screenshot to Johnny, something quick, hoping he’d send a joke to make you feel better about the upcoming shit show.

Christmas exploded around town - lights dripping from each tree, fake Santa’s climbing up trellises. And with it, your mood turned blacker each day. It seemed like every minute someone was messaging you for something new: don’t forget to dress up for the family Christmas photo, bring rolls, are you bringing anyone?, are you bringing anyone?, are you bringing anyone?.

The lowest moment was a phone call from your sister’s boyfriend. You answered the call at your desk, phone sandwiched between your shoulder and ear.

“What’s up?”

“Hey, I was wondering what your ring size is.”

Your fingers slow on your keyboard; through the speaker, you can hear the hustle and bustle of some shop. 

“I wear a size 8. Why?”

Silence. And then -

“I’m going to ask your sister to marry me at Christmas this year, and I know you guys are the same size. Don’t tell anyone?”

You had always liked your sister’s boyfriend, but at that moment you could have strangled him. Annoyed, you’d shoved yourself back from your desk, muttering something about taking a break. You slammed your phone down so hard, you were relatively sure that there was going to be a crack in the screen, but you were too bummed out to worry about it. 

Johnny found you at your post outside, an unlit cigarette held loosely in your fingers. 

“I thought you quit smoking, bird.”

His breath clouds around him, and he sits close enough to you that his knee rubs against yours. 

“I did. That’s why I’m just holding it.”

He winces at the tone in your voice, hand coming up to rest itself above his heart in mock hurt.

“Who pissed in your Wheaties this morning?”

“Bug off Johnny.”

He knocks his knee into yours, hands tucked beneath his armpits to keep warm.

“Christmas dinner?”

Your shoes tap a maniacal pattern onto the concrete as you try to figure out how to say it all, without sounding so horrible.

“My sister’s boyfriend is going to ask her to marry her on Christmas.”

Johnny ‘hmms’, chewing on his chapped lips.

“You can always pay me like you said the other day.”

“Shut up Johnny.”

Three days later, after all the non-essentials had been sent home for Christmas dinner your phone buzzed; you glanced down at the screen from your perch on the couch, half expecting it to be another annoying family member. 

Your fingers tapped against the screen, trying to figure out a way to tell Johnny to knock it off, the joke’s not funny anymore. Instead, you find yourself tapping out the time and your address.

Smoothing the wrinkles from your skirt, you start to think that maybe Johnny was just screwing with you - that this is all some elaborate joke and you’ll have to do this all by yourself. Maybe Johnny’ll laugh about it when the two of you return to work in a few days, maybe-

A tentative knock on your front door breaks you from your near spiral. Before you can talk yourself out of the entire thing, you fling the door open. Johnny stands grinning at you, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark jeans. His mohawk is freshly touched up, and whatever cologne he put on rolls off of him in hypnotic waves. 

“You look nice,” you say, words falling flat and lame between the two of you. But Johnny doesn’t seem to mind as he holds his arm out to you. 

“You look nice too, birdie. You ready?”

Johnny opens the car door for you. You take the moment it takes for him to walk around to his door to peer at the inside of the car - fresh vacuum lines cover the floorboard, and a new Wintergreen scented tree hangs from the review mirror.

“So,” Johnny says, climbing into the driver's seat, “tell me everything I need to know.”

You describe everyone on the drive there: your Aunt Mary, your Uncle Gary, your cousin with the glass eye who gets upset if you stare too long; your sister and her boyfriend. You point out each turn for Johnny, and with each turn of the wheel, your mood grows brighter. 

Until Johnny pulls into your parent’s driveway, right behind your sister’s car. 

“Alright, Bonnie?”

“Yeah, let’s just do this.”

You don’t get to open your door before Johnny hops out, pulling your door open and holding out his hand for you. 

The front door opens to an explosion of people and Christmas music. Johnny is immediately taken in by your aunts, and he suffers through the pinched cheeks, and he doesn’t mind when your grandma kisses him on the cheek. By the time he makes it back around to you, there’s lipstick smudged on his cheek.

“They love you, Johnny,” you say, reaching up to wipe the red smudge away. “I’ll have to pay you extra I think.”

“You think they’ll let me take an extra plate home as a tip?”

“Of course they will.”

The two of you hide out in the corner, watching the little kids run around with their new toys; one of the boys shoves a Nerf gun into Johnny’s hand, and you see a flash of fear cross all the kid's face when Johnny racks it with extreme precision, but Johnny still lets all of them tackle him.

Your sister and her boyfriend stand on the opposite side of the room, refusing to take their hands off of each other. You do your best to ignore them, but there’s a clock inside you, ticking down the minutes until you know he’s going to drop down on one knee. 

After Johnny fights off all the kids and returns to you, red from laughter, you don’t stop him when he grabs you around the hips, pulling you into the dining room with him. You hear the titter of your mom and aunt as they fawn over Johnny behind the two of you. 

You almost pull away from him, until he stops you in the hallway, pointing upwards to where your mom tacked mistletoe on the ceiling. You feel the blush creep up your neck, and try to send him a message that this is way out of the agreement for the night. When he kisses you chastely on the lips, you don’t say anything, but you can feel the huge grin on your face. 

He rests his hand on your knee throughout dinner and listens intently when your grandfather talks about his days in the War. 

It’s more than you could have asked for. And after dinner, when all the adults start handing presents over to each other, you know it’s about to happen. You see your sister’s boyfriend fidget with something in his pocket, and your stomach twists. You try to focus on the music pouring in a little too loud from the speakers, the Wham! version of Last Christmas, but you can’t take your eyes off the two of them.

Johnny’s hand taps against your elbow, pulling your attention away from what’s going to be the end game of the night. He’s holding out a little box towards you, wrapped haphazardly. 

“Oh Johnny, you shouldn’t. I didn’t get you anything.”

His grin is crooked as he shoves it into your hands. 

“I didn’t ask you to get me anything, birdie. Anyway, it’s part of the pretending, isn’t it? Besides you can get me on my birthday.”

You unwrap the box, fingers sliding beneath the too much tape, to rip the paper away until it falls to the floor and all you’re left with is a black velvet box.

“Johnny this is not funny, you jerk.”

His grin is infectious as you open it up, a little silver pendant sits nestled in the velvet, an ‘S’ charm attached the the chain. 

“Can I?” Johnny asks, and you nod, holding the box out so that he can take the necklace out. 

He puts it around your neck, calloused fingers soft against your skin as he does the clasp. 

The room explodes in cheers around you; out of the corner of your eye you can see your now future-brother-in-law on his knee in front of your sister, but you stare at Johnny instead. 

The last lines of Last Christmas fade from the speakers, Johnny’s hand interlaces with your own and he tugs you closer. 

“I think I want to do this next year.”

[roostersbby69]

0.8 | For old times sake

Summary: Bradley hasn’t gotten any action with his wife. They didn’t have kids, not because of their jobs, but because she just didn’t want to anymore. Bradley had a very high sex drive, and his maid that his wife hired might just give him a memory refresh of how good sex is.

Pairing:Bradley Bradshaw x maid!reader

For old times sake masterlist. Full masterlist.

After this weeks fiasco, Bradley was in desperate need of a break. He needed something to relax him.

So he went to his only solution, The Hard Deck.

-

Phoenix was throwing darts with Coyote and Fritz when Bradley walked towards them with a beer in his hand.

“Hey, there’s my favorite girl friend.” She said as she threw a dart towards the target.

Bradley rolled his eyes and hid his smile to himself. Even on his worst days, Phoenix always found a way to cheer him up.

“Nice to see you too.” He muttered and took a swig of his beer.

“Where’s your maid?” Hangman popped up to his side and asked.

“None of your business.”

“Oh, come on, we hit it off the other night.” Hangman raised his arms and dropped them down to his sides.

Bradley was not pleased by this, he shouldn’t be talking about you like that, hell, he shouldn’t even be looking at you.

“Come on, Rooster. throw some darts with me.” Phoenix turned to him and handed him a dart from her hand.

Bradley took it and stood beside her.

“So, how’s the wife?” She asked as she reared back and let go of the dart, sending it straight to the target.

Bradley sighed, he didn’t even want to think about her right now. He didn’t want to ruin his mood, “Not good.”

“How come?” She asked, Phoenix knew very well what went on in their relationship and how he was treated.

“I think shes seeing someone behind my back.”

Phoenix almost choked on air at his statement, “Really?”.

“Yeah, really.” Bradley nodded and threw a dart.

“What makes you think that?”

“I saw her phone, some random number was texting her. And I got Y/n to help me figure out who it is.”

“Wait,” she turned to him, “you got your maid in on this?”

Bradley sighed, yes, it sounded awful, “Yeah, I didn’t mean to. It just happened, she knew how to trace stuff like that.”

Phoenix nodded and grabbed another dart off of the table, “And, how did that go?”

“Shes gotten pretty damn close.”

“Elaborate.” Phoenix said as she and Bradley walked to the target to collect all of the thrown darts.

“She figured out that the number that has been texting Isabelle is a local bank number.” He said as he plucked darts out.

“Damn, she is good.” Phoenix muttered, “So, what are you going to do?”

Bradley sighed, “I don’t know.”

“I like this Y/n girl. What’s she like?”

He looked up as if caught in a daze and let all of the air out of his lungs, “She’s smart, cute, sweet, independent, she uses this detergent on my laundry that every time I smell it I just think about her, its like shes stuck in my brain.” He felt terrible talking about you like this when he’s a married man.

“She sounds great, maybe shes the one for you.”

“Nat.” He warned as he walked back to the table and dropped the darts back into the basket.

“I’m serious, you ever think that you deserve someone who makes you happy? And this girl really sounds like she’s good for you.”

Bradley sat down and placed his head in his hands, “I can’t do this, I can’t be this person.”

“Why not? Just confront Isabelle then take it slow with Y/n.”

“There’s a problem.” Bradley slowly looked up to her nervously.

“Uh oh.” She widened her eyes and braced herself, “What?”

Bradley sheepishly looked down and played with his fingers nervously.

“Shut the fuck up,” she gasped which made him look up at her, “You fucked her? You fucked the maid!”

“Lower your voice,” he hushed her, “No, I haven’t fucked her.” Not yet.

“You kissed her.” She kept playing the guessing game.

“No, I sort of ate her out.” He mumbled as he rubbed his neck and leaned back in his chair.

“No you didn’t.” She smirked and laughed.

“Mhm,” he closed his eyes and held up two fingers, “Twice.”

Nat looked like she was going to faint, her eyes were wide, her eyebrows were raised, her face was red from shock and she looked amused.

“You’re a dead man, Bradshaw.” She tsked and shook her head.

“Yeah, I keep hearing that.”

-

Bradley had realized he had been at the hard deck for a long time when he checked his phone and realized it was 4:25.

He hurried into his bronco and hurried home when he caught a glimpse of of a sign that read, JP Morgans citi-bank.

He swerved into the parking lot and drove through each row, trying to find Isabelles car.

He sighed and rested his head on the steering wheel.

Just as he picked it up, a white SUV caught his eye.

He turned to the left and in his side mirror he saw his wife and a random man practically eating each others face against the wall.

Every thought ran through Bradleys head right now, he wanted to drive his precious bronco into them and call it a day. But instead, he drove off and made his way home with one thought on his mind.

You.

-

Today you had on some tiny, baby pink shorts with a skin tight, white, tank top on. You hummed as you folded the blankets on the couch and fixed the hideous decorative pillows.

You hated that you let yourself inside their house without them home, but Mr. Bradshaw did tell you that there was a key hidden under the door mat after last times incident.

But here you were, cleaning with the house to yourself.

That was, until Bradley pulled into the driveway and you heard him locking the bronco.

He rushed inside apologizing for being late and took his shoes off.

“That’s ok, I just decided to come in and do my job. I hope thats okay.”

He admired you for a second, in your skimpy outfit, your hair that was pulled up in a clip, your white painted toes, the pink gloss on your lips, it was all too much for him.

He stepped forward until his chest touched yours and he had to look down at you. You peered up at him with doe eyes and batted your eyelashes, “Is something wrong?”

He said nothing as he grabbed our face and leaned down to capture your lips with his. Your lipgloss tasted like strawberries as his tongue darted out and licked your bottom lip, pulling it in between his teeth.

His hand came down to your ass and squeezed the flesh between his fingers.

Your lips smacked against each others as your tongues tangled together and he backed you up to a wall.

You gasped as his cold hands came under your shirt and onto your belly, rubbing it softly.

He dove back down and shoved his tongue into your mouth, causing you to moan and close your eyes.

Your hands came to his hair and tugged to pull him as close as possible to you.

He could feel your hard nipples through your tank top pressing against him which was sent down to his dick as made it twitch.

You had an incredible rack, one that he couldn’t stop staring at every time you walked past him or cleaned the windows.

He gripped your hips and hoisted you up too carry you down the hallway towards his bedroom. Once he made it there he turned you around and pressed you against the door, closing it. He pushed his body against yours and you could feel his dick pressing against your core.

You could already tell he was big by the way it reached from your thigh to the top of your pussy.

It wouldn’t be different, you weren’t a virgin and had been with guys in college and in high school. Not that it was many guys, just two.

You sighed when his lips found your neck and sucked lightly, pulling the skin between his teeth.

Your fingers laced through his hair and you held onto his broad shoulders as he held you without a struggle.

He turned the two of you around to lay you down on the bed softly while he caressed your sides.

Bradley leaned back and realized what was happening, he was kissing another woman while his wife kissed another man.

He remembered she could be home any minute, so that’s a why he locked the door on the way in. He quickly removed your shorts and panties, tossing them to the side out of his way.

Bradley tapped the side of your thigh, “Turn around, sugar.”

You obeyed and turned over, doggy style, and let him put you in the position he wanted you in.

He pushed down between your shoulders to set you face down ass up and spread your legs for him.

Bradley got on his knees until he was face to face with your pussy and licked a long stripe up your pussy, groaning at the taste of you, he took the tip of his tongue and toyed with your entrance.

You moaned and shoved your face into the soft duvet while he shoved his tongue inside you and you felt his nose against your ass.

He let go and grabbed both of your ass cheeks and kneaded them while he licked your pussy and sucked on your clit softly.

Listening to you whine, he sucked harder and pulled on your clit until it released from his lips and returned back to its place inside your pussy lips.

“Fuck!” You groaned as he dove back into you and his nose pushed against your entrance.

He sat back up and smacked your ass, roughly, and rubbed the spot where a red handprint flamed on the globe of your ass.

“Turn over.” He said as he grabbed your hips and roughly spinned you to get on your back.

You bit your lip as you gave him your best innocent looking eyes as he stared down at you with hunger.

His veins pulsed, as did his dick, and he brought his hands down to remove his shirt to reveal his abs and delicious arms.

You brought your foot up to rub his six pack and watched as he grabbed it and brought it up to kiss your ankle and drape it over his shoulder, casually.

“Say my name.” He growled.

“Mr. Bradshaw.” You whined.

“No,” he let do of your leg and leaned down to your ear where he licked your jaw and kissed it before whispering in your ear, “Say my name.”

“Bradley.” You moaned and nuzzled your face into his neck.

He leaned back and undid his belt, “Good girl.”

He placed it to the side and undid his pants and let them drop to the ground, he pulled you up by your arms, gently, and placed your small hands on the front of his boxers.

You looked up at him as you pulled them off of him and blinked as his thick cock sprang out of his boxers and waved in front of your face.

God, he was huge. You wondered why his wife never wanted to sleep with him because shes the luckiest girl on earth. You’d be sleeping with him every second if you could.

His red tip was throbbing in your face and the veins curled around his thick length, small white beads of precum dripped down onto your thighs as he stood in all his glory in front of you.

You stuck your tongue out and kitten licked his tip, collecting the cum on it, and staring into his dark eyes.

“Fuck.” He hissed and gripped your hair as you sucked on his cock softly teasing him.

He shoved you back onto the bed and removed your tank top to reveal a pink sports bra, he grabbed it and pulled it over your head to watch your tits bounce out of it.

“Fuck you’re so hot.” He grabbed one and played with it as he kissed the other. You moaned and held his head there while he sucked on your nipple, pulling it between his teeth until it was peaked.

“Please, Mr. Bradshaw, please fuck me.” You moaned, helplessly.

He smirked and spread your legs open, he grabbed his dick and rubbed it between your pussy lips, collecting your wetness and pushing his tip into you.

He watched as he stretched you out and your walls hugged his dick tightly.

“Holy shit, you’re so damn tight.” He groaned and tried his best not to bust right then, “Fuck.”

You moaned as he slid all the way inside of you until he was balls deep.

You whined and squirmed, trying to get him to fuck the daylights out of you. You had been waiting for this, for him.

His large arms came under your knees as he held them wide open and started to snap his hips into you.

“Fuck!” You almost screamed as the head of his cock rammed into your cervix immediately finding that sweet spot inside of you.

“Shit!” He threw his head back and thrusted into you with all he had. It had been so long since he had sex with anyone, and damn did you show him how much he missed it.

“Fuck!” You flailed your arms out and gripped the sheets tightly between your fingers.

He threw your legs over his shoulders and brought both arms up to your perfect tits and grabbed them like handles as he fucked you.

You could hear the sound of skin slapping together as he snapped his hips forcefully into you.

He fucked the shit out of you, like he had been wanting to.

He pulled out and heard the suctioning noise of your pussy longing for him to fill you up and turned you over doggy style for him.

He placed his cock on your entrance and stopped, “Tell me how much you want me.”

“Please, please, please fuck me! Please, Mr. Bradshaw. You have such a big dick.” You moaned into the bed as the cool air hit your pussy.

He shoved himself deep into you, finding a new angle, and started to thrust into you. He watched as your ass jiggled for him with each thrust and the clapping noise was louder now at this position.

“Fuck.” He groaned and gripped your ass cheeks in each hand, pulling you back onto him.

You moaned with each thrust and leaned back up when it got too much, only for him to shove you back down and slap your ass.

“Nuh huh, I’ve been waiting for this for too damn long.” He said as he kept thrusting into you with so much force you became dizzy.

“God, I’m gonna cum!” You warned him as he kept his brutal pace on your poor pussy.

“Good girl, cum for me.” He encouraged you as he kept hitting that spot inside of you, “Say my name, baby.”

“Fuck Bradley!” You screamed as you felt your stomach tightening and Bradley spilling his load inside of you, filling you to the brim.

You felt your thighs shake as a warm liquid poured out of you as you orgasmed, coating the bed and the two of you.

He slowed his pace and rode you through your high, “Shit.” He hissed as he finished cumming and watched as you whined on the bed.

He gave your ass another small smack as he pulled out and watched his cum leak out of you.

He brought his finger up to collect it and push it back into you and watched as your pussy sucked it all up.

You flopped onto the bed and he flopped down beside you with a content sigh, “That was amazing.”

“Yeah, let’s just hope your wife doesn’t find out.”

“I could care less.” He shrugged and smirked to himself.

—————————————————————

Part 9

Authors note: AHHHH. It happened! They freaky little things. ;)

Thank yall so much for the love! Yall are my inspiration <333

Lmk in the comments what you think!

Tag list:

@rosiahills22

@schreksdoubledeckerhomechecker

@aestheticaltcow

@bellaireland1981

@persassyismysecrettwin

@violetisheresworld

@lyn-js

@senawashere

[fallinnflower]

01:01

mingyu x reader (fluff, hurt/comfort?, non-idol!au)

wc: 1.3k

a writing exercise i did with a friend using this prompt list and the prompts "when we first fell in love all of those years ago, your father would say i was too sweet for my own good. maybe he was right." and "i'm the one you've been looking for."

a/n: thanks everyone for being patient with me, i'm still working on some big projects (vampire!DPR Ian and also vampire!BamBam [same universe], vampire!Jun, part 2 of river god!Wonpil, a Wonwoo fic based loosely on Kiki's Delivery Service... send help) in the works but wanted to post a little something <3

As soon as you get into your apartment's living room, you flop onto the couch on your stomach, paying no mind to the makeup you're probably smudging onto the throw pillow. Now just isn't the time. Future you can worry about cleaning it. 

Familiar footsteps follow you into the living room and a knee gently nudges the side of your stomach; you roll so your back is pressed against the back of the couch and Mingyu can lie down in the remaining space. He settles on his side, facing you with his hand propping up his head. His eyes glimmer slightly, and he gives you a wry smile,

"Well, happy anniversary," he says. You groan and look away from him, pressing your face into the couch cushions. He chuckles at your exaggerated reaction and gently reaches over to start undoing the elaborate updo you'd pinned your hair into. 

"What a night," he continues, pulling the bobby pins out one by one. You still refuse to look up, embarrassed and frustrated. 

It wasn't like it was anyone's fault, really, that all your evening plans had gone to total shit. First was the unexpected downpour that ruined your plans of a nice walk before dinner forcing you to frantically hail a cab while huddled under his expensive suit jacket. You'd already felt apologetic over that, and then your distracted cab driver missed a turn, which you thought was bad enough because you would be late for the reservation at this rate. 

But then it had to get worse (because of course it had to get worse) when the cabbie rear-ended another car because they were too busy yelling at someone on the phone. The two of you had to spend another two hours huddled under a shop awning, answering questions for the police officers that came to assess the scene. Thankfully, nobody was seriously hurt, but you still cried so much that everyone kept asking if you needed them to call paramedics. 

That was part of why you didn't want to look at Mingyu. No doubt your face was a mess, not to mention your hair, which he was now methodically freeing from the style you had spent so long on. 

You'd just wanted it to be perfect. You only have one first wedding anniversary, after all. To avoid crying more, you keep your face pressed into the cushions, not responding to your husband. More gently, then, he asks,

"Hey, you're sure you're okay, right?" You sniffle. Goddamnit. 

"Yeah," you croak. "I just… feel bad." Mingyu chuckles. 

"I know, but it isn't your fault," he reassures you. It should make you feel better, but it doesn't. You know Mingyu isn't bothered — this sort of thing doesn't faze him quite like it does you — but you still feel anxious and upset. Is this some kind of warning of impending doom in your relationship? Just the thought makes you feel sick to your stomach. 

You finally turn your face again so you can breathe more easily and find Mingyu smiling at you, concern still clear in his eyes. The couch cushion feels rough against your cheek, still a bit sensitive from all the crying and being out in the cold. 

"I think we have ramen," Mingyu says. "Should I make some? Are you hungry?" Your lower lip trembles as tears start welling up again, and this time you press your forehead into Mingyu's shoulder to hide your face. 

"How are you so calm?" you sputter. "How are you not— not upset?" 

"What, upset at you? You didn't do anything. And the driver didn't get away with being reckless, so I don't need to worry about that, either," he says calmly. When you only continue to sniffle pathetically, he changes his approach a bit,

"Or maybe I'm just too nice. I still remember when we first fell in love all of those years ago, your father would say I was too sweet for my own good. Maybe he was right."

You let out an extremely undignified snort and lift your head to look at him. 

"As if. My dad never said anything like that," you tease. "Plus, 'all those years ago?' It's not like we met as kids or something. We met in college." Mingyu pouts at you, but his eyes glimmer playfully. 

"It sounds so much less romantic when you say that," he whines. 

"Well, you've always been the romantic one," you retort, but Mingyu is quick to counter you,

"No, no— I still remember that letter you wrote me when the semester was ending, when you said I was the one you'd been looking for—"

"Shut up!" you cry, placing your hands over his mouth. On top of everything else tonight, you don't want to be reminded of your embarrassing confession via love letter from years ago. You'd been a lovestruck student afraid you would lose your chance forever when you wrote that letter, and certainly hadn't expected that Mingyu had also been harboring a secret crush on you that would lead to marriage. It had been corny and sappy all because you thought you wouldn't see him again! Oh, how your actions had come back to haunt you. 

You can feel Mingyu smiling under your palms, and it only makes your face get hotter. Eventually, you remove your hands from his face and snuggle up closer to his chest, pressing your forehead into his shoulder again. 

"You're so annoying," you murmur, and you can feel the laughter reverberate through Mingyu's chest as he winds an arm around you. 

"But you still married me," he says. You smile. It still gives you butterflies, thinking of Mingyu as your husband, still so fresh a sensation. It's only been a year, after all. 

"Yeah," you reply. "I did."

Mingyu holds you for a few minutes, gently combing his fingers through your hair as you calm down. Eventually, he broaches the subject of dinner again, now that it's been hours since you were supposed to have eaten. 

"Do you want to shower while I make the ramen?" he asks, and you nod. Mingyu gets up off the couch as you sit up and stretch, noticing the lingering dampness in your hair and dress. A shower definitely sounds nice. You start making your way down the hallway, then turn back to face the living room. 

You watch as Mingyu attempts to straighten out his crumpled, damp button-down shirt, and smile to yourself. 

"Actually," you start, causing Mingyu to stop what he was doing and look up at you out of curiosity. "Do you… wanna join me? It's our anniversary, after all." You can feel your face warming up, but it's worth the slight embarrassment just to see the surprise on your husband's face. Sometimes he can seem so innocent. 

It only takes him a moment to snap out of it though, and cross the living room to meet you in the hallway with a broad grin. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you without hesitation.

"That sounds perfect," he says, practically purring, and you let out a surprised yelp when he suddenly scoops you up bridal style. You throw your arms around his neck and lean against him, giggling. As you look up into his face, all your irritation and upset from earlier melts away. Why should it matter if you went to a fancy restaurant or just ate ramen at home? All you want is to be together — that's why you got married. 

As Mingyu sets you down in the bathroom, you keep your arms looped around his neck and give him a kiss of your own. 

"Happy first anniversary, Gyu." He smiles that big, toothy grin you love so much, the one that makes him look like a happy puppy. 

"Happy anniversary, Y/N. The first of many."

It turns out to be a pretty good night, after all.

[wannaeatramyeon]

The Yakuza daughter! S/o x Gun basically made me fangirl as I imagine them being a power couple lol. I now wonder if you got part 2 in that like Goo just discover Gun ring on his hand and a photo of his fiancée/wife in his photo (I just imagine that he took a photo of s/o in a lingerie lol)

Ughhhh Sam, this idea is too fun. Here's a much much quicker follow up with a lot less Yakuza-ness (sorry 🙇🏻‍♀️).

Gun Park x Reader: After I do (feat Goo)

Goo finds out. Follow up to 'I do' fic here

"How was Japan?"

Goo watches Gun washing the blood from his hands. Something about Gun has changed. He seems... different. Goo couldn't quite put his finger on it. Maybe it was Japan. Maybe it's the guy just being a freakshow as per usual.

Gun side-eyes him. The response is clipped, short, singular.

"Fine."

"Not like you to take an extended leave."

"..."

The lack of answer doesn't deter Goo, all too used to his partner's silence. "Business or personal?"

"..."

"Anything I should worry about?"

"..."

"Are you planning anything?"

"..."

"Did you pick up my Sanrio-"

Gun thrusts his hands in the dryer, the blasts of air drowning out Goo's incessant questioning. Unfortunately, this doesn't last long enough. Nothing ever does once the blonde's curiousity is piqued.

As soon as the whirring stops, Goo opens his mouth once again and Gun finally responds. "No, no and no. Shut up."

Hmph. Looks like Goo won't get anything else from this asshole. With a glint in his eye, he asks his final question, "You owe me for covering your duties. Was Crystal always this annoying?"

Gun reluctantly smiles. "Yes."

.

.

"What does our big bad boss want?"

Gun scans his phone. The message from just moments ago wasn't anything of significance to their mission. Although. The selfie of you in a seductive pose and risque underwear might be a distraction.

He appreciates it for a beat longer then locks the device. "It's not our boss."

That's the end of that conversation. Or so he thought.

"Huh?" Goo's eyes dart over to him with increasing frequency and the car starts to swerve.

Gun will not die by his hand because this fucking maniac can't keep his eyes on the road. Begrudgingly, he elaborates, "It's personal."

The blonde's eyes bulge out at this admission, "During work hours? Who wants to text a mean bastard like you?"

For fuck's sake. Can't this fucking idiot ever mind his own business.

Goo continues, "Who the hell would even want to be friends with you? I hope you're not plotting anything against me..." A malicious snicker, "Or are you dating? You should introduce me to them, they must be a firecracker!"

Gun tunes out his partner, a skill he has long mastered.

But when his phone buzzes for the third time in as many minutes, with you no doubt sending yet another racy image, Gun has to physically restrain himself from looking (and internally curses you for your poor timing).

Goo tries to swipe at the phone. "Hey, let me text back!"

Gun moves it effortlessly out of arm's reach. "If you're not going to keep those eyes on the road, then I can just pluck them from your head."

"You're no fun." Goo pouts, narrowly missing driving into a ravine.

.

.

"Oppa~ do you want a bite of this sushi?"

"No."

"Are you sure? It's really delicious!"

"..."

"Just a little taste!"

"Come near me again, I'll jam the sushi and the chopsticks down your throat."

"Ahhh~! Goo, your friend is so mean!"

What the fuck? Gun seems to be in an even more sour mood than usual. The last time the both of them were at this Gangnam bar, Gun had no issues with the women. Someone to warm his bed for the night, he had figured.

This evening though? He didn't even bat an eyelid in their direction.

"Gun! You can at least be nice to these sweethearts!" Goo snaps.

"No." Gun replies simply, getting up to leave.

What a fucking weirdo, Goo thinks. Oh well, more sushi for me.

.

.

"Since when did you wear jewellery?"

Goo snatches Gun's left hand, pulling it up to his face and holding it so close he is cross-eyed behind his glasses.

He absolutely has not seen this before, his brows furrow at this very odd addition. A plain, silver-coloured ring wrapped around the fourth finger.

Yanking his hand back, Gun responds. "Since I want to."

"A plain ring? On that finger?" Goo trails after him as he strides off, "You know what that means right? Wait..."

Goo completely stops in his tracks, "A couple band? Engagement? Are you...?"

Gun completely ignores him, increasing the distance between them.

No fucking way, right? The simple band on his hand is definitely something, but-

There's just-

No. fucking. way.

Who the fuck would be able to put up with Gun Park?

.

.

"Who's that?" Goo peers at the picture of the smokeshow on Gun's phone, catching a glimpse just before he tucks it into his pocket.

Having that image is certainly... a choice. Who is she though? A new k-pop idol? Gun doesn't seem like the type that would have an image of an idol or a celebrity as their background.

"My wife."

"WHAT THE FUCK?"

"Focus." Gun commands, as a gang of men come at them with knives and baseball bats.

"WHAT THE FUCK?" Goo repeats, ducking to avoid a slash.

"I said, focus." Gun easily tanks a couple hits before returning some of his own.

"WHAT THE-" Goo's words are cut short as some thug takes advantage of his diverted attention and knocks his glasses off.

"FUCK- Fine." Goo elbows the guy in the solar plexus then easily plucks the baseball bat from his now slack grip. "Let me just borrow this~"

.

.

"You must be Goo Kim!"

Turning on the hostess charm, you note how Goo has to almost literally pick his jaw off the floor with your entrance.

Gun leans against the doorframe, observing with quiet smugness at the reaction. You had dropped in at the HNH offices to join Gun for lunch. Usually he would pick a better time and place but the level of questioning from Goo had already surpassed absurd levels ever since he found out Gun was married.

The last few weeks had been hell.

"When did you get married?! You didn't invite me to the wedding? I wasn't your best man? Tell me, who was it! I'll beat them up! When can I meet your bride? Or are you scared I'll charm her away?"

And Gun had promised you a partnership of equals. With your short time in South Korea, you had more than enough proved your usefulness and loyalty. It's about time he cuts you in on the Crew business.

He surmises this is a way to kill two birds with one stone.

You're Gun's wife? This absolute knockout? With him? That fucking boring asshole?

Goo would have thought this is Gun's twisted idea of a prank if he hadn't found out that the guy barely had a sense of humour a long time ago. That time had almost ended in stitches for Goo.

"Mrs. Park!" He gives you a theatrical bow, "I've been so looking forward to working with you!"

"Just call me Y/N," you giggle.

Goo takes your hand, pressing a loud smooch to the top of it. Gun's entire body tenses at the contact. This does not go unnoticed by you.

You retract your hand back, subtly wiping the kiss away, "I can't wait to get stuck into all the details."

"Of course, Y/N!"

"There won't be any trouble from you, right, Goo?"

"Princess, don't you trust me?"

You look Goo dead in the eye, seeing through the fake hurt on his face and dropping your own act.

"No. And," you grab onto his crotch, digging in your nails as Goo yelps, "If there is even a whiff of anything amiss then I'm coming after your balls." Your grip tightens as he tries without success to push you off, "Got it?"

"ACK!! Fuck! Got it, got it!"

You release him, relishing at his squeal.

"If you've broken anything," Goo scowls, struggling to stand and cradling himself tenderly. "Ugh, you two are fucking made for each other. Psychos."

Gun arrives at your side with a smirk, he guides you by the small of your back, leading you out.

"Not bad," he murmurs into your ear, "You were wasted in Japan."

[notmyprey]

Ask Game!!

HEY, READ THIS. SOME OF YALL AINT READING IT AND ITS PRETTY IMPORTANT.

Feel free to use this template, but I will link the answers to each ask on this post, so dont rely on a reblog if you want to do this ask game. If you're fine with my answers being there, then that's chill, but I keep seeing a lot of people rebloging this without acknowledging that the answers linked are mine, and I want yall to get the full range of asks!

Instructions!

Pretty much, all ya gottta do is send an ask with the emoji listed for the question. After you send the ask, I will answer the question. After that, that post will be linked in the question on this post to show it has already been answered (it will also change the question green). This is so I dont get ppl asking questions I've already answered.

Rules!

Only 1 ask/question per person. This, though, doesn't include if you send an ask for me to elaborate on an answer (I'll link those here, too). Also, as always, please keep it sfw/nonsexual. Keep anything you ask respectful towards me and others. If you cross either of those two boundaries, I will delete your ask and send you a dm (if possible) notifying you of said deletion and why.

Questions!!

(There are 40 total questions, 20 in each category, so I hope I dont run out, lol.)

Vore Related:

🤔 What is your favorite vore trope?

🤨 What is the reason you got into vore?

🎭 What's your favorite pred and prey dynamic?

🗣 What's your favorite personality for a pred?

👤 What's your favorite personality for a prey?

🕑 How long have you liked vore?

👥️ Do any of your irl friends know about your sfw vore interest?

👀 What is the thing that made you start seeking out vore stories/art on the internet?

🦷 Are you pred, prey, switch, or observer?

🫀Whats your favorite type of tum?

🌡What's your preferred temperature for tum?

🩵 Who are people in the sfw vore community that you look up to/are just overall great people?

👅 Which of your OCs would be most likely to waltz into a mouth without knowing?

💯 How often would you purposefully eat someone/get eaten if vore was real?

💅 How often would you accidentally eat someone/get eaten if vore was real?

👄 Opinions on mouthplay?

🍝 Do you like to eat prey with food or without food?

🫠 Whats your opinions on digestion?

💔 What is a vore scenario that breaks your heart at first only to mend it again?

🧚‍♂️ What's your preferred size of prey?

Not Vore Related:

🏳 Where are you from?

😅 What is a unique ability you have that's not useful?

☀️ What's your favorite pass time?

🐾 What's your favorite real animal?

🦄 What's your favorite animal, real or fake?

🤣 What's a funny memory you have.

👻 Have you ever had a paranormal experience?

🐶 Do you have any pets?

🏠 Are you an introvert, extrovert, or an omnivert?

🏳️‍🌈 Are you lgbtq+?

🏴‍☠️ What's your native language?

☠️ What's your favorite video game?

🖥 What's your favorite tv show?

🫳 Do you collect anything?

😍 Which of your OCs is your favorite?

👋 Which of your OCs is the most outgoing?

🦨 Which of your OCs is all bark and no bite?

🐁 Which of your OCs would fight someone ×10 bigger than themselves?

⌨️ Do you have any unique typing/speaking habits?

✍️ Whats your favorite art medium?

[moonrisecoeur]

OKAY HELLO you're so right on sub leaning Leon x do leaning switch girl pls elaborate my head will explode

hey!! i’m totally cool with writing it for this ask bc i mentioned it in the original post but for anyone thinking of sending in a req please note that i don’t like writing sub!reader! also i’m sorry everyone i try to write asks in the order they’re sent in but I COULDNT HELP MYSELF I WAS SO EXCITED!

no pronouns mentioned, pegging mentioned so afab reader ig, praise and degradation, switch!reader, mean dom!reader, sub!leon, soft soft soft dom!leon

leon doesn’t really put the label on himself. honestly? he doesn’t really think about it most of the time. he usually assumes that people want him to take the leading role, so he does. he likes it enough for it to be enjoyable.

when he meets you, someone so clear about what they like and what they want, he feels more comfortable. he likes it when you initiate, when you lead, even when you’re not being dominant. he likes being kissed, being touched, being adored.

you tell him what you are. a dominant-leaning switch. you like being in control most of the time, but not all of it. it’s just about the kind of mood you’re in. he thinks that makes sense.

he considers what he is. slightly more submissive, he assumes, maybe even mostly. sure, there’s the part of him that’s the caregiver and protector that makes him just a little bit more willing to acknowledge the other side, but most of the time, his care and attentiveness tend to make him more of a service sub than anything else. he wants to please, wants to give you everything you want, he wants to provide that for you.

you are more dominant most of the time, leading and initiating and controlling, pushing him against the walls of your bedroom or pressing down on his shoulders to put him on his knees. he just complies so easily, it would be impossible to resist.

“who do you belong to? who owns this pretty cock?” you ask him.

“you do. it’s… uhm, it’s yours… it’s your pretty cock to do whatever you want with…”

he really likes to be talked down to, he realizes, likes it when you call him dumb and stupid and naive, likes it when you say someone could take advantage of how nice he is, how you could take advantage of it. he likes how your mean words cut into his dignity. pretty slut. stupid whore. pathetic little thing.

he likes being yours, being taken, he discovers he likes being pegged too. he doesn’t expect it because he’s a guy and he’s conditioned to believe anything going up his ass is wrong, but you coax him into it, using your obvious power over him to persuade him into trying it at least once. he came so hard from being fucked that he could have sworn he saw stars.

he likes being yours, yours to love and adore, yours to fuck and degrade and be nothing but cruel to.

and yet, when you’re having a particularly bad day, which leon can tell you are because he can see the exhaustion in your eyes and shoulders, he steps up. your body tells the whole story of what happened, but he asks anyway.

“do you need anything from me?” he asks, and you look up at him, softer and more gentle than usual, almost more vulnerable, “hey, sweetheart, look at me. don’t tell me if you don’t wanna, but i can’t help you unless you let me. do you promise you’ll let me?”

you nod, leaning back against the bed as leon crawls in with you, lips pressing against your cheek in a soft, sweet kiss as his hands wander, touching whatever parts of you they can find.

leon notices your stress, the ache so heavily present in your bones, so he murmurs pretty little words into your ear, leaving kisses in their absence, “baby, baby, you’re okay. do you want me to touch you? would that help?”

“yeah…” you groan, leaning into him, hiding your face in a sense of shame that leon can’t quite understand yet.

“okay, got it. easy, sweetheart, i got you. i’m just gonna make you feel better, okay? just be good and let me help you feel better.”

you can’t respond, too lost in the moment to even try to, but you lean into him, not trying to hide yourself anymore. his words are so sweet, so gentle, and it’s hard to compose yourself and get yourself together when he’s right here, offering himself to you as help for your problem.

“that’s it, that’s my girl… you’re doing perfectly, always so good. you work so hard, baby, you do so much for me and everyone around you,” he mumbles, lips kissing against your jaw and neck and hands all over you. he can’t get enough.

“you make me feel so loved and so special, let me do that for you. let me take care of you,” you truly do take such good care of him. leon can’t help but want to pay back all the times you’ve comforted him during a nightmare or whatnot. all the times you’ve kissed away his tears when he cries.

“can you be good for me? i just wanna help you, baby. let me help you relax,” he mumbles again, his hands moving lower and lower until he’s touching you with a dexterity he’s never quite had before. “a couple orgasms should get rid of my baby’s stress, hm?”

his voice doesn’t sound like it usually does. it’s lower, calmer, softer. he’s gentle, so much more than you are. he couldn’t even imagine saying the things to you that you say to him, but yet he loved every second of being on the receiving end of them. it’s ironic. odd. he can’t quite explain it.

but he likes being gentle with you, being sweet and soft and maybe a little bit teasing, but not too much. he gives you everything you ask for, too enamored with you to say no.

“leon,” you murmur to him during your mandatory after sex cuddles, head still a little foggy, and he immediately perks up, like a puppy who’s owner called its name.

“hm? what’s up?”

“don’t let this get to your head…” you say to him, clinging onto him like he’s your lifeline. in some ways, he is, “i’m… still in charge.”

he laughs, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “of course you are, baby.”

[sizzlingsheepcheesecake]

✨FANFIC ASK GAME✨

Hey guys!! I love doing ask games and love seeing other authors in the fandom do them, and I had the sudden urge today to make one. I remember one went around a while ago that was unique because it was a chance for readers to tell writers what they think of their fics, rather than asking questions. Maybe this is super self indulgent and vain, but I think we have a really supportive and lovely little fandom and I thought it would be nice for any writers who are interested to get the chance to hear from readers! So here it is, reblog to your heart's content for people to send to you and feel free send me any asks 🥰❤️

1) My favourite fic of yours is X

2) Your funniest fic is X

3) Your saddest fic is X

4) Your hottest fic is X

5) The fic that I had the strongest emotional reaction to is X

6) The fic that I'm most invested in is X

7) Something I didn't think I would enjoy as much as I did is… (Can be an entire fic or something more specific)

8) This line/scene really stuck with me…

9) X makes me think of you

10) When I think of you I think of X

11) I love your writing because…

12) My favourite thing about your writing is…

13) You made me like/interested in/notice X

14) My favourite version of X (ship) that you've written is in X (fic)

15) I can't wait for you to update X

16) I think X (fic) is underrated

17) If someone wanted to start reading your stuff I would recommend X

18) I love that you write about X (can be a ship or something else, dynamic, kink, AU etc)

19) Something unique about your writing is X

20) It means a lot to me that you write X

21) Something unexpected about your writing is…

22) When I read X (fic, scene, line) I had X reaction

23) I'd love to see you write more about X

24) I'd be really interested in you writing X AU

25) A question I've always wanted to ask you is…

26) Can you explain/elaborate about X (scene/line etc)

[fountainpenguin]

#Riddle watches Traffic

Doing my best liveblog of Jimmy at the moment. He's my first POV for Session 6 Secret Life and I pulled up his name without looking at anyone else's video titles. Some thoughts:

Something has happened that is very similar to something I have drafted in a future Dog's Life chapter I wrote before Secret Life even began. I am rubbing my forehead... if this ends the way I suspect it will end then I will just have to stare at a wall I suppose... sweet goodness.

Jimmy and Martyn really did not expand their single bed situation this entire time, huh? I kept waiting for them to but what am I supposed to do with this.

Joel: I want a cool nickname. Call me "The Florist."

Jimmy, who just agreed to attack his own flower husband and tell them that the florist sends their regards: ...

Holy cow he's 14 minutes into a 44 minute video and he has like 4 different tasks he's trying to do simultaneously because people keep rushing up and telling him they need a deadly favor. It's good to be Red.

Lizzie (about Scar avoiding her trap): He came around the other way! He just smacked me in the butt.

Jimmy, about his dog-shaped house: Red tongue, representing the Red Dogs. Tongues are that color, so you know what I'm saying.

Etho: ??? You like to lick things?

/Puts my head in my hands

Jimmy, inviting Etho into his and Martyn's house: You can sleep in our one bed. There's two of us. We share. You might have to squeeze in as well.

Thanks, Jimmy.

sldfj Etho asking if one of them sleeps at the end of the bed like a dog. I recently wrote a scene of Impulse doing exactly that on Etho's bed.

It's way too funny to me that when people were roleplaying soulmates on Double Life, they [at least Bdubs and Impulse, Joel and Etho] made an active effort to include two beds in their bases, side by side, even though that serves no functional purpose. Even in Limited Life, the Bad Boys made 3 beds for some reason and put them next to each other. Now when they're not roleplaying, all that is out the window. You share a bed and you'll like it.

Love Etho throwing 17 pieces of steak on the ground and asking "Do dogs like steak?" and Jimmy just grabbing all of it while looking at the ground. That's also the same thing he and Tango did when Joel threw them potatoes or whatever back in Double Life and they claimed to be eating off the floor.

skldjfsldj Jimmy and Scott

Jimmy, screeching and tearing across the grass with his enchanted iron sword: The florist sends his regards!!! He sends them!

Scott, riding away on a horse, tripping over himself in laughter: Can you return them?? Does it come with a receipt?

Martyn: I'm on my 5th red task

Jimmy, still on his 1st: ...

Red Mumbo in Last Life: /desperate for friends, constantly trying to explode people and leave without elaborating

Red Mumbo in Secret Life when Martyn and Jimmy approach: Just because I'm Red doesn't mean I'm joining your stupid gang

Jimmy: Stupid gang? Have you seen your mustache, mate?

Mumbo, running forward: Hey hey hey!

Martyn: ???? Ooh, yeah, that was kind of harsh.

Love how Scott brought up the flower husbands comment, actually. Same brain, even though it was Joel's suggestion.

slkdjfs Scott invited Jimmy to his own preemptive funeral and his expression is sending me.

They buried rotten flesh in the coffin... that's amazing.

sdlkjf They invited Grian to attend the funeral and he shows up, looks at Jimmy, and says "I checked the tab list, like... Did I miss something?"

Jimmy, with unreasonable venom in his voice: You're not supposed to attend funerals if you're still alive.

They buried him alive in dirt above his own coffin... This is my first POV for Session 6 and all I can say right now is... whoever is the reason that Jimmy's episode is titled "The curse has been broken" has the opportunity to do the funniest thing right now.

Jimmy had such a difficult task... replacing water with blue glass and convincing someone to jump on it, from a specific location? Which has a ton of water? Geez, that's rough. He is struggling.

I am astounded at the amount of confidence Jimmy had to run up the stairs to the Gem and the Scotts base and charge in, mere minutes after Gem showed him the "doorbell," and while he's in the midst of telling Pearl that he hopes they haven't rigged TNT up to it. Jeepers, dude.

slkdjflsdjf everyone is freaking out over an explosion. No death message came up in chat, but after a minute, Joel starts frantically typing and screaming "Lizzie? LIZZIE?????" and I have a feeling...

Of course Jimmy wouldn't know what the death sound sounds like and assumes someone's trying to explode stuff near him.

Watching this chat with no context is amazing because it's Jimmy cheering that he's not out first for the 5th season in a row, it's Grian wailing LIZZIE IM SORRY and Joel shrieking HEY THATS MY WIFE. Amazing.

slkdjfsd Jimmy that was so close... Jimmy, if you had died because you hit your own glass trap at the bottom of the lake while doing a celebration dive for not being out first, that would have been the funniest thing.

Jimmy, snatching up his red task and reading in monotone: Punch another player into lava. It cannot be lava you've placed. Fantastic. Great.

[It can be lava he's placed]

Jimmy, to Martyn as he dumps his lava: Have you got another or not?

Martyn: No? I'm not made of lava- what? Come on. You're sounding hella ungrateful right now.

slkdjf Jimmy on Martyn betrayal!! Martyn is furious, Jimmy's literally roleplaying that he's a pathetic puppy with a broken leg, Martyn's ready to swing like "Hey, you won't be the first out, this is fine-"

Betrayal drama at the Big Dogs on the hill...

Geez, the swivel from that to the immediate, simultaneous warden and wither is nuts.

HE'S DOWN! HE'S DEAD, THE CANARY IS DEAD! Still out the first episode of perma-deaths, even if not the first out.

Jimmy Session 6 POV complete!

[em1e]

夏 + 五条 // OLVIDADA ⠀ ༝ ༝ gojo satoru + geto suguru ⠀ ༝ ༝ 2.9k words ⠀ ⚠︎ angst :3 this is a cyoe story ! [ endings are tbp ] ⠀ — [ part 1 ] you were supposed to be dead, but by some miracle gojo's found you. gojo, too.

i. alive

“So,” he starts after taking a sip of his drink, “where have you been all these years?” 

You pause for a second longer than necessary, letting your finger run around the rim of your cup before sighing, “I lost my memory a few years ago . . . “ And he lets you delve into the same story you told Gojo, Geto hanging onto every word you say like it’s the last thing he could ever hear from you. 

“. . . and Gojo and I have been kinda just been getting to know each other again.” 

You only look back up at him when you’ve finished retelling your most recent memories, wanting to try and gauge his reaction based on what you’ve told him. 

He’s quiet for a moment before he tilts his head towards you, “So Gojo and you, you’ve been bonding?” 

You laugh a little, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear and scrunching your nose, “Something like that, I guess. More like catching up? He’s trying to help me remember anything, but it isn’t really helping.” 

Your smile turns sheepish, looking back down to your coffee, “It is nice to hear about the memories, though - they’re just new stories but me and you and Gojo are the stars.” 

The analogy is . . . cute. Very fitting with your current profession, and not at all something Geto could expect when surrounded by curses. There’s something so innocent about it, so pure that has him clutching his sleeves in his fists and sending another smile your way. 

“So how do you deal with it all?” The question leaves you with furrowed brows, head tilting to the side as if you need him to elaborate. 

“‘It all’?” You repeat, unsure of what kind of answer he’s really looking for, “I mean, I’ve been to therapy I guess, when I was younger and still trying to figure everything out, but I’ve got a handle on it all now and - “

“You’ve figured it all back out on your own?” 

You almost want to be annoyed at how frequently he’s interrupting you, coddled by Gojo the past few weeks reminding you how different the two are, but his saccharine smile never falters and you can’t really find it in yourself to be upset.  He’s just curious, after all. 

“Most of it, yeah,” you hum, unsure of yourself, “but it’s been easier with Gojo around - and now you too, hopefully.” Your smile mimics his own, and he’s reminded of one of the last photos you took together as a group, eyes squinted and head tilted. He thinks about that memory often, chaining it to his heart and he wonders for a moment if it’s something Gojo has mentioned to you. 

“Yeah, me too.” 

ii. scattered

You and Geto part ways after talking for hours (up until the cafe closes - the workers have to politely ask you to leave), and you promise to keep in contact. Something warm settles in your chest, happy to have another portion of your past back, even if it’s only bit by bit. Like piecing a puzzle together. 

When you make it to your apartment, only half-paying attention to what you’re doing while trying to send a text to Geto so he has your number, you bump shoulders with someone. Immediate apologies fall off your lips, almost dropping your phone in favor of assisting whoever you’ve just run into, when you fully process the mop of white hair in front of you. 

“Oh! Hey Gojo, I didn’t know you were coming by,” you smile, moving past him to unlock your front door, “you won’t believe who I just talked to.” 

“I was just in the neighborhood,” he waves dismissively and follows behind you as you push your door open, “you’re not gonna tell me you ran into a celebrity without me, are you?” 

“No,” you laugh, sliding off your shoes while he shuts the door and does the same, “I ran into Geto!” 

You miss the way he freezes, too busy putting away your bag and putting on a pot of tea to notice, and he recovers relatively quickly, all things considered. 

“That so?” 

“Mhm,” you hum, “we talked for the last like . . . three hours? Would’ve never known it was him without you showin’ me that picture.”

When you turn to face him, he’s still hovering by the door. Maybe he hasn’t recovered as much as he thought. 

It makes you pause your ramblings, “Something wrong? I know you guys aren’t exactly friends-,” you gasp, ”oh god am I bringing up bad memories or something? I’m so sorry, I should’ve-” 

“It’s okay.” He smiles, but it does little to ease your concerns, “we still aren’t on the best of terms, but that doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

He watches you pull your lip between your teeth, still very anxious at the prospect of making him upset. He steps forward and places a hand on your head, ruffling your hair with a hum, “Promise, it’s fine. Tell me what you guys talked about?” 

Gojo moves past you to turn off the boiling tea, grabbing two cups for the both of you to keep his hands busy while you talk, worried if he doesn’t, you’ll see how they shake. 

You tell him about the various topics you managed to dive into, most being things you’ve already talked about with Gojo, along with some new additions sprinkled into the mix thanks to Geto. 

Gojo is silent as you speak, nursing his cup of tea and shaking his head with a smile when you offer to get him a new cup. You frown, not liking how quiet he is. You poke his temple three times, and he blinks each time, before looking at you. 

“What was that for?”

“Come on, Gojo, conversations need two people to participate,” you hold up that number of fingers, then point at one with your other hand, “it’s no fun if I’m the only one talking.” 

He hums in agreement, and you sigh, shaking his shoulder, “What’s wrong? You’re usually more talkative than I am.” 

“‘M just thinking.” He says dismissively, looking back into his cup to avoid the way your eyes bore into him, seeking more than what he has to offer. 

“That’s dangerous.” You counter instead, tapping at his temple again until he scowls and swats your hand away. 

“Ha ha ha, very funny. You should become a comedian.” 

“You think so? I’d miss my kids too much, but if you think I could, maybe I could take up a second job,” you laugh, “but then I wouldn’t have time for you-” 

“We wouldn’t want to take that from you,” he interrupts before you can finish, “your kids, I mean.” 

“Like I could live without you too.” You hum, knocking your knee into his. 

He gives you a genuine smile at that, and that’s enough to let you go back to whatever you were talking about before. 

ii. dead

“How long were you gonna keep it from me?” 

The words are bitter as Geto spits them out, arms crossing over his chest and head tilting while he takes in his friend. 

His friend, who doesn’t look bothered in the slightest by the venom being thrown his way. 

“Forever, if I could. Was really unlucky they happened to see you.” Gojo stuffs his hands in his pockets, kicking at a crumpled piece of paper in the dark alley the two decided to have this chat in. 

“So you found them, and just decided keeping it to yourself was best? That I of all people didn’t deserve to know-” 

“They don’t remember anything about sorcerery.” 

Gojo’s declaration is enough to leave Geto almost gaping, before he squints and straightens his shoulders, “What do you mean?” 

“Exactly what I said,” Gojo sighs out, leaning against the brick wall, “they don’t remember Jujutsu Tech for training, or any of the missions we went on - I don’t even think they remember how to see curses or use their technique. Think it’s just something that’s blocked in their mind.” 

“Have you tried talking to them about that?” Geto’s curiosity of it all getting the better of him. 

Gojo looks down, shaking his head, “No. I don’t . . . find it worth it. To spoil their happiness like that.” 

Geto clicks his tongue, “I don’t think that’s for you to decide.”  

“Doesn’t matter,” Gojo shrugs, stretching, “they’re content with what they know, with the life they’ve built. Neither of us are gonna ruin that for them.” 

“And if I do?” Geto challenges, chin rising and eyes narrowing, “Not like you can keep your eyes on them forever, and I think being a sorcerer is something someone deserves to know about themselves.” 

“I’ll kill you.” Gojo says easily. Calmly, if not for the way he glares behind his blindfold. 

Geto grins, all teeth, “I’d love for you to try.” 

iv. hypomnesia

A few weeks have passed since you first met Geto, and you fear he’s been ghosting you. You’ve sent a couple of texts, but the thought of annoying him overwrites any want to talk to him more, so you leave it be until he decides to message back - if ever. 

You’re submitting grades for some of your students when your phone dings. 

The sound honestly startles you, the classroom being silent other than the sound of your typing, and one glance to the device has you forgoing the B+ grade you were about to put in to instead unlock your phone and read the message. 

Geto 

Meet me at that cafe in two hours? 

Your fingers hover over the keyboard while you mull over a reply. 

You

i have plans with gojo then :( i can meet now if you’re free? 

You watch as the gray text bubble pops up, dancing on the screen before disappearing. 

Geto

Sure :) See you soon. 

You shut down your computer with a hum to yourself, making a mental note to finish when you get home before you and Gojo go out to dinner, grab your coat and your bag, and head out the door. 

Geto’s already in the cafe when you arrive, sitting in the same place from before, and offers a small smile when you sit across from him. 

“Were you waiting long? Sorry, I ran into one of my kids’ parents while I was leaving and they dragged me into a conversation about a project-” 

He waves dismissively, “Don’t worry about it, I wasn’t waiting too long.” 

You give a small sigh of relief, shoulders visabley relaxing at this, “Okay good. . . so, what’s up, how have you been these past few weeks?” You smile and Geto can’t stop himself from returning it. 

“‘ve been alright. I actually wanted to talk to you about something, though, if that’s alright. About our past.” 

Your brows shoot up in surprise, head tilting as the waiter brings you your drink. The same thing you’d ordered before. It’s sweet, almost, how he remembered. 

“What do you mean? Gojo and you already told me it all, right?” 

“Well,” he pauses to sip from his own drink, licking his lips before continuing, “it seems Gojo has left out details I thought he’d told you.” 

“Details?” You parrot, head tilting, “what do you mean?” 

He clicks his tongue as if deciding his next words carefully, using the straw to his drink to swirl it around in the cup, “You - we are something called sorcerers. We have abilities that allow us to use cursed techniques and defeat things called curses, and it’s what we attended Jujutsu Tech to train for.”

You’re openly staring at him as he speaks, opening your mouth to reply but stopping yourself when he continues, “When you lost your memory, we were fighting some curses and you . . . you fell off a building, and we couldn’t find you in the rubble after.” He reaches out to grab your hand, and you flinch at the movement, not even realizing you were shaking until his own clasps over yours. 

Everything was blurring around you. 

The ground was rushing towards you so fast and so slow, and the wind whipping around your ears made it harder to process what’d happened seconds before. 

You were hit, you think. By a curse or a person or something. You don’t know. You don’t remember. It hit you, and now you’re falling, and your cursed technique wouldn’t do you any good now if you could use it. 

What even was it again? 

The rush of air flowing past your ears is unbearable, everything around you melting into one mess, until all at once, all you feel is nothing.  

You yank your hand from his with a gasp, eyes wide and cradling it to yourself as if he’s burned you. 

“What was that?” You whisper out, voice quivering. 

Geto’s smile is gentle as he retracts his own hand, placing it atop the other in his lap, “Your memories, I imagine, are back now?” 

“What was that?” You repeat, fingers clutching the front of your shirt as if it could bring you some comfort. Closing your eyes for a second brings everything crashing back to you, the rush of the wind, the feeling of free falling, the chair behind you falls to the ground as you stand abruptly, sucking in a breath as if all the air has been stolen from your lungs. 

Maybe it has, if the way you’re breathing is anything to go by. 

He reaches forward, maybe to comfort you, maybe to help calm you down, but you’re stepping away before you can find out. Hurt flashes in his eyes, only for a second, then he’s dropping his hands back into his lap and gesturing to something to his right. 

Your eyes meet . . . something. A small blob of green fat floating beside Geto, and you cover your mouth to stop yourself from screaming or puking or whatever squeak could pass your lips. 

“I think we should take a second to calm down,” he’s starting to say, but you can hear the blood rushing in your ears, hear the way your heartbeat is thumping in your chest, and you’re turning on your heel before you can fully process the movement. 

“(y/n)-” he’s calling out, standing to follow you, but when you don’t turn to acknowledge it, he stays in place. You just need some time alone to process it. He understands. He can wait. 

For you, he can wait. 

You stumble home, avoiding other blobs of flesh and things even taller than you that you can only assume are the curses that Geto’d started to tell you about. Maybe you should’ve stayed long enough to relearn about them. You can only offer a half-hearted apology as your shoulder bumps into someone in the hall to your apartment. 

Vertigo takes over when the familiar smell of Gojo surrounds you, and he catches you before you can fall over. 

“Woah, slow down there, what’s goin’ on?” He asks, leading you to your door when you don’t answer. 

He eases your keys from your shaking hands, unlocking your door and guiding you inside while you hold him like a lifeline. 

“Why dontcha tell me what’s wrong?” He whispers gently as he sets you on the couch, fixing your shirt when it wrinkles but freezing when you grab his wrist to stop him. 

“You didn’t tell me everything.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s almost damning the way you speak. 

“What’re you talking ‘bout?” Gojo asks like you’ve said something silly, like he can’t believe what you’re saying because surely Geto hasn’t ruined this for him - ruined this for you. 

“Curses, Gojo? Techniques and training and-and,” your breathing is getting erratic again, unsteady as your grip tightens around his wrists. 

“I need you to breathe.” His voice is stable as he speaks, even and calm despite the way your eyes are boring into him. Tears poke at the corners of your eyes, fighting to fall, but you blink them away and force yourself to take a breath. 

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to ruin the life you’ve built.” He explains softly, so fucking softly, it almost makes the anger and panic and every other horrible emotion that found home in your veins slip away. 

But when you close your eyes for a second, you can feel it again. The falling, the open air, the pure fear before you hit the ground - and it has you pushing him away from you by the shoulders to stand with a teary-eyed glare. 

“That wasn’t for you to decide.” You clench your teeth to will the tears from falling, but they do anyway in streaks down your cheeks. 

“Do you think you’ll be happier now, knowing everything? Remembering everything?” 

His tone is nowhere near condescending as he asks, but it bites into you like a bullet because you just don’t know. Would seeing curses make you happier? Would knowing about your past, having your memories back be a good thing like you’d always hoped it would? 

“I need you to leave, Gojo.” It’s surprising how even your tone is, wiping away hastily at your cheeks and standing straighter. 

“C’mon, (y/n), don’t be like that-” 

“I need to think and I-I can’t. I can’t with you here, please, just go.” 

When you look up at him again, he realizes how truly worn you are. Maybe from reseeing curses, maybe from the abruptness of it all. With his mouth in a thin line, he nods and turns on his heel. 

He’ll wait for you to reach out. He can wait. For you, he can wait. 

geto ending [ tbp ] ༝ ༝ gojo ending [ tbp ]

[xpau-official]

Little update…

Hey guys! I have a few things I wanna talk about. Please read, this has a few rules/guidelines!

First thing is a huge thank you to everyone supporting this AU so far. I’m honestly surprised at how much it’s grown over such a short time! I can’t thank you all enough for joining in on this silly party. We’ve almost reached 300 attendees (followers) as of right now, can you believe it?! That’s crazy. So seriously, thank you.

Second thing is about the ask box. It makes me really happy to see that so many of you are enjoying sending in these questions! I have a lot of fun coming up with responses to them. Though, I’ve actually been sick for the past bit so I can’t answer them as fast as I want to haha. Because of that and other things that I’m working on, I apologize in advance if the responses are delayed. Delayed as in, idk, 1-3 days?? Either way, I’ll be taking a bit longer to respond because I also have to draw the comic.

Third is also about asks. Please try to keep your asks simple! It can be a bit tough to address multiple questions in one post. Also, please try to keep them centered around XPAU and not branch off into other AUs. I only know the funny little things that happen at the party, and nothing more.

I know I already touched on this before, but please try not to ask for elaborations about CPAU-focused scenarios. The different POVs of different scenes are not my place to say. This includes questions like “What did you think of () during ()” and “Remember when () happened”, etc… It’s a new party, let’s have new things!

Want to know what someone’s favourite activity is? Sure! Hugs? Go for it. A gift? Of course! Did Blue really kidnapp Edge and use Stockholm syndrome to turn him against Sci? Uh…I can’t answer that.

I hope this makes the overall picture for asks a bit easier to understand. Of course, if you’re not sure about anything, feel free to ask for confirmation! I’m open to hearing all questions.

Thank you for reading!

[theobsessedcookiefan]

Hey, if it's possible can I request a headcannon of Caramel Arrow having a sibling reader who has the personality of The great Papyrus from hit indie game Undertale That was released on September 15, 2015 (dude I'm getting old) if not that's okay just delete this.

Hi !!! Thx for the suggestion !!

2015?! DUDE I'M OLD AS HECK TOO😭😭😭😭

A/N: I love papyrus he's so me coded

I'm writing another request that is taking a bit of a time bc I want it to be long so if I take a little bit of time to answer pls remember that, don't think I'm ignoring you 😭

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚

.-Platonic hc with energetic Reader -.

「🏹」⧽- Now instead of Caramel Arrow Cookie dragging your ass to your job you're the one making her work overtime. Always saying something like: "But someone could enter at any moment and we need to be there to stop them." And of course her normal answer: "Reader Cookie it's 11:00 pm.. It's not even our turn to guard the gates!".

「🏹」⧽- The puzzle love it's another thing you have, always making elaborated traps (the majority works!) to catch any possible intruders that might want to kill the king. You always ask your sister for help you proving them though and when she's not being forced to you force Crunchy Chip Cookie to do so.

「🏹」⧽- Taking the point from above, let's say your traps not always work and sometimes it ends up in a mess, like one time with your electric maze (yes like in undertale). It send Crunchy Chip flying towards Caramel's watcher tower.

Mini scenario:

"So you'll have to carry this and avoid touching the maze alright? Be careful!" You warned your friend who reluctantly took the sphere and started to walk in the maze, surprisingly he made it! "Ha! And without getting a little bit hurt!" Crunchy Chip smiled proudly and you celebrated with him, then he had a doubt. "Wait what if it doesn't works? What if it's not on?" Before you could do anything he touched the invisible walls of the maze, sending him flying towards Caramel's tower, who of course let out a small scream when the other cookie went through the glass like a rocket. You apologized a lot to both of them afterwards.

「🏹」⧽- You take very seriously your job, even making your sister worry about your work addiction, it's not like you hate it though, you love your work and that's why you put so much effort into it. That won't stop her from trying to get you to rest of course.

「🏹」⧽- She's the one who takes care of you, healing your wounds and making sure you don't get hurt more because of your reckless personality, and you appreciate her for that!

「🏹」⧽- You're a lot compassionate even if you don't show it, always wanting to give other cookies a second chance, like with Affogato Cookie, who tried to take a bit of advantage of that, of course Caramel and Crunchy beat his ass because of that.

「🏹」⧽- "I'm the great Reader Cookie and you'll fail to pass this gates" I LAUGHED SM WRITING THIS 😭😭

[charaznablescanontoyota]

boat for short motherfuckers?

the lake is so quiet that audrey can hear the chirp of every insect, the call of every bird, the sound of her own heart palpitating in her chest. her eyes are squeezed shut so she doesn't have to see how far out in the water she is, but that just makes it worse - each wave that rocks her little rowboat could be someone with a mask and a knife coming up underneath it, tipping it over, dragging her below the surface.

"closing your eyes makes it worse," trish calls, across the water.

"yeah, i kind of noticed," audrey says flatly.

still. she opens her eyes. there are only three of them left on the lake, now; shigeo got his exit a full thirty minutes of mindful meditation ago, and shadow got his soon after. audrey's pretty sure shadow just fell asleep in his paddleboat, but the car must have counted it as enough rest and relaxation for the door to appear.

so it's her, it's trish, and it's al, who technically has a door on his boat already, but volunteered to stay behind until the others did too. maybe he wasn't expecting it to be so hard for them to relax, but he doesn't seem to mind having more time to fish with the improvised rod he put together back on the shore.

audrey sighs and drags her hands down her face. she can feel her genre butting up against the premise of this car, her danger sense pinging off of something she knows isn't there, and it's like bees in her brain. so maybe, actually, fuck the premise. maybe the way she gets through this isn't by being quiet and alone.

"when's the last time you were on a boat?" she asks aloud.

"oh," trish says. she's aimlessly paddling her paddleboat - pink, naturally - around in circles, sending ripples through the water. "in italy, when we split off from fugo. i don't remember a lot of it. i was dying."

audrey silently adds this to her mental catalog of insane trish anecdotes. she's not sure what reply she was expecting but - sure, italy. venice has waterways, right? that makes some kind of sense.

"you were dying?" al asks.

"my dad," trish says, which is all the elaboration she needs to give, because they've all seen her dad firsthand.

"i think the last time i was on a boat was when teacher took on me and brother as her students," al offers - maybe to cut the awkwardness, god bless him. "she stranded us on an island for a month."

"hey," audrey says. "what?"

"that's where i learned to fish," he adds cheerfully, every bit as skilled as trish at not elaborating on the anecdotes he shares from his home world. it's just harder to get annoyed at him for it.

"what about you?" trish asks.

audrey looks to her, squinting against the sun. "what?"

"when were you on a boat last?"

"oh. uh." she has to think about it. "i dunno. lakewood has...a fucked up lake. like, 'a murderer got shot by the cops there' fucked up. kids only go out there on a dare, or to fuck with each other."

the last time she was at the lake was at that party where noah almost drowned, she's pretty sure. audrey grimaces, tries once again to put the idea of outstretched hands under the water, ready to grab her ankles, out of mind.

"trish," she says aloud, grasping for something else to think about. "tell me a story that isn't about a time you almost died."

"i blew up a plane, once," trish says immediately, then pauses, hums to herself. "i think i almost died during that, actually. so - disqualified?"

"uh, no, fuck that. tell me about the plane you blew up," audrey says. it's true that the story might not meet her criteria but once, just once, she wants to hear the full story behind something outlandish that trish has so casually dropped into a conversation.

trish looks taken off guard; there's a beat of silence before she starts to actually tell the story, her voice low and careful, her eyebrows furrowed as she draws on the memory. audrey uses one oar to rotate her boat so she's facing trish, a little closer than before, then closes her eyes again and listens. it's easier to tune out the insects and the birds this time, easier to ignore the waves that rock the boat.