#I think I should also say these two had talked maybe twice at this point and seen eachother in person once

[spacey-png-art]

Sometimes a kid says something in front of your situationship and you both kind of. Yknow.

[satuguro]

⠀⠀ ⠀ཾ ༚ 20/20 VISION

lalala! ethan landry x okokok! reader

#SYNOPSIS— based off of see you again by tyler the creater & kali uchis; you have no gag reflex, ethan tells a sex joke, and ethan takes a leap of faith.

#CONTAINS— best friends to lovers, mutual pining, jealousy, emetophobia, fluff

#AUTHORSNOTE— i've been wanting to write fluff lately so.. here you go xx

your unofficial designated spot in the carpenter sisters' apartment was their armchair in their living room.

you had a list of reasons why; one, it meant more space. you could stretch your legs, not worry about feeling someone's feet near your legs, and you could have your own blanket. all somewhat selfish reasons, but you loved your space. two, it had the perfect angle towards the t.v. that gave you the best spot in the living room to watch it without worrying about discomfort.

which was why you would've been mildly perturbed that someone was standing between you and the t.v. the only difference was that it wasn't just someone; it was someone who rambled too often, who had no sense of personal space while also being hyper aware of it, and who was a flurry of random facts (which wouldn't help him at all, unless someone held a gun to his head and told him to name and point at every country’s capital in the world).

"i've done it," ethan announced to you, his signature toothy smile seemingly more victorious as he looked down at where you were snuggled up on the couch. his well manicured nails (he asked you to do them once, and who were you to deny your best friend?) held his laptop, the screen facing his chest.

"aren't you supposed to be studying?" you asked him with a small tilt of your head, glancing at where the rest of the group was. finals week was beating everyone up, and you could briefly see mindy and chad chugging a redbull at the same time while tara timed them, before you turned back to your best friend.

"i gave up."

"you need to study."

"you gave up, too!" ethan looked down at the huge blanket that you hogged for yourself, not even thinking twice before he was climbing in next to you.

"ow— ethan!" you groaned, feeling him step on your leg.

"'scuse me!" ethan forced himself under the blanket you were snuggled under, making you share your beloved armchair with him before he sighed contentedly. "this is comfortable! maybe i should share this seat with you more often!" he said with a bright grin, making you sigh reluctantly. "i mean if you don't want to then it's fine too!" ethan added hurriedly with wide eyes.

"i was just saying that i wouldn't mind sharing with you because usually you sit alone— which i know you prefer, you've told me so many times and i get it! i really do! but i wouldn't mind sitting with you to keep you company because i really like being with you— around you. your presence. yeah, that." ethan rambled, finishing his string of words with a sheepish smile, cheeks flaring a bit red. "i'm sorry for rambling." he added quietly.

your usually tired eyes softened at that. he had always been insecure of how much he talked, you knew that better than anyone. "i've told you before, e, i don't mind. i like listening to you," you hummed, a downturned smile on your lips. "i like your presence too. and i guess i don't mind sharing my seat with you."

ethan's cheeks flared red at your casual words. you had a way of speaking so calmly, as though all your words were chosen well. in a way, he was a bit jealous.

"you had something to tell me, yeah?" you asked him softly, bringing him back on track.

"oh, right!" ethan showed you his laptop, setting it up on your legs. it was a notion list, color coordinated and everything, with an entire list of shows and movies you remember only briefly mentioning to him. "i made this list—"

"just now? instead of studying?"

"yes! so basically, it has a section where we can rate it after we watch it, and it's all organized by what we want to watch the most and what we need to finish!" ethan scrolled down the list, practically buzzing with excitement (and the cold brew he drank earlier).

"see? i know that i have a whole essay to do but i can do it later—" ethan said, waving it off with his hand. "because i know you said you would do it but i got impatient and did it instead! and look—" he showed you the wide variety of colors for every row. "they're color coordinated! and here's how i think the rating system should go—"

you had watched ethan talk the entire time he rambled, your usually tired and indifferent eyes softening when you listened to him speak. he talked fast— too fast for some people, but you liked that about him—but the way he rambled showed how passionate he was about different topics, because ethan only rambled when he cared.

it showed how much he appreciated what he was talking about. and ever time his cadence picked up and his words became jumbled and he began interrupting himself, you could see how ethan's brown eyes would shine with excitement. you could see how he began incorporating his hands to his words, how his lips tilted up when he talked.

you were so engrossed in ethan's explanation of the movie and t.v. show list that you failed to notice your friends staring at you from the dining table.

"they are disgustingly cute," tara said with a sigh.

"and disgustingly oblivious," mindy grumbled, clicking her pen over and over. "with how smart the both of them are, i'm surprised they haven't picked up on the clues." she turned to chad, who was sulking after losing the redbull chugging competition against her. "have you asked ethan about it yet? you're our in on this, chad!"

chad groaned as mindy nudged him with her shoulder. "i did. he didn't even respond. it's crazy how he can avoid conversations, you know."

you didn't like parties. not as much as your friends did— you were usually the designated driver or the friend that was always sober enough to take care of their friends, which you didn't mind. it was the socializing part that you minded.

you socialized okay, but you often just ended up listening to other people rather than talking. listening was more your style, but you were only a little awkward when it came to talking to complete (and possibly intoxicated) strangers at parties. you stuck with your group of friends and very rarely strayed away.

but ethan was the designated sober friend this time around, so maybe that would change.

three loud knocks to your dorm room made you go and open it, coming eye to eye with ethan. "you're walking me there?" you asked with a knowing smile, making the boy nod eagerly.

"yup! chad's walking with tara and mindy's going with anika, so that leaves you and me." ethan grinned at you teasingly. "why, you're getting tired of me already?"

"no," you hummed, closing your dorm room behind you as the both of you began to walk down the hall. "you're really not drinking tonight, huh?"

"nope!" ethan replied, popping the 'p'. "after i threw up all over sam that one time we drank at the apartment, and then i threw up on you right after, i told myself that i'd hold back on it."

you wrinkled your nose at the memory. "how responsible of you."

"i know, right?" ethan said with a proud smile. "but because i threw up on you that time, i give you full permission to throw up on me this time."

"i'm not gonna be that drunk."

that was a lie.

to say that your friends were shocked to see you become a more extraverted person after drinking would be an understatement. they were used to you observing the group and contributing to conversations with sarcastic comments, dry humor, and dark jokes that are often made much too soon. so to see you take a shot with tara and squeal happily with her (true friend solidarity; she was as drunk as you were) was completely out of the ordinary.

"i'm gonna go find chad!" tara yelled over the music, making you nod happily and watch her leave. adrenaline and excitement began to thrum through your body stronger, and your first thought was to share it with your favorite person. you began to walk around, searching for ethan, before you bumped into a chest.

"oh, shit! i'm so sorry," the guy laughed, making you send him an apologetic smile.

"it's okay!" you said, taking in his black hair and his brown eyes (that only reminded you of ethan). "i'm y/n!"

the guy smiled at you, offering his hand out. "jaden!" he seemed to be as intoxicated as you were, his steps wobbling slightly as you shook his hand. "do you, uh, wanna dance?"

"hey, where's y/n?" ethan asked tara as she passed him, making her look back towards the drinks table.

"she should just be around where the drinks are.." tara's voice trailed off when her eyes landed on you not too far away. your arms were around a guy's neck— was that jaden from her philosophy lecture? —as you swayed with him to the music. you seemed to be having a good time, the alcohol making you lighthearted as you sang with whatever song was playing through the speakers. "there she is!"

when ethan saw you, his heart fell. you looked so beautiful under the multicolored lights, your hair perfectly styled and your clothes fitting you perfectly as you danced with someone who wasn't him. your smile— your genuine one, ethan noted with his chest aching, the one that made your eyes crinkle and your smile lopsided —was pointed towards someone who wasn't him.

jealousy brewed in his chest along with the heartache, ethan's jaw clenching as he stared at you and the random guy. but he didn't step in. he didn't pull you away and declare his feelings for you, because at the end of the night, you were happy. content as you danced with someone who wasn't ethan at all.

chad came up next to tara, his arm over her shoulders as he steadied her. "hey man, where's y/n?" he asked, still fairly sober than everyone as he had only taken one shot.

"she's doing fine," ethan said, his voice monotone as he continued staring at you. it was unfair how beautiful you looked while you unknowingly broke his heart with every laugh and every flirtatious smile you sent towards your dance partner.

"what?" chad looked in the direction ethan was staring, his face falling when he saw you and jaden. easily connecting the dots, he looked at ethan empathetically. "fuck. dude, i'm sorry."

"it's okay, really," ethan said with a tight lipped smile. but he couldn't keep his eyes off of you and him, the fact that you looked so happy pulling at his chest because he wanted you to be happy with him. he wanted you to look at him the way you looked at that random stranger.

and finally, as you did a twirl into jaden’s arms, you made eye contact with ethan. oblivious to the way his jaw clenched and his eyes lost the spark they usually had, you gently pulled yourself out of jaden's arms. your steps were wobbly, and you nearly crashed into ethan's chest when you finally walked up to him. ethan's arms went to steady you easily.

"ethan, i feel like throwing up," you murmured, and ethan nodded in understanding, worry taking over his jealousy.

"okay, let's get you to the bathroom, okay?" ethan said softly, pulling you close to him as he guided you to the bathroom. he knocked on the door, thankful no one responded, before he opened it for you. he locked the door behind the both of you as you made a beeline for the toilet, grabbing the side of it as you readied yourself to throw up.

but nothing came out.

“go on!” ethan encouraged you, motioning to the toilet. but instead, you looked up at him warily.

“do i have to?”

“yes?” ethan gaped at you, motioning to the toilet again. “just go ahead! nothing to fear!”

“i don’t want to.”

“c’mon, y/n, why not?” ethan whined, making you groan as you stopped yourself from throwing up yet again.

“i have emetophobia, asshole,” you muttered, gently pushing his arm. “fear of throwing up? and,” you messily pushed some of your hair away from your face. “i have no gag reflex.”

“what the hell?” ethan crinkled his nose, blushing furiously as he looked at you in shock. you were honest, sure but never this honest. “i could’ve gone my whole life without knowing that.”

“are you sure?”

“what?” ethan said quickly, eyes wider than ever as he stared at you as you snorted in amusement. “you’re kidding.”

“maybe.”

“maybe?” he swallowed thickly, shutting his eyes and pinching his nose bridge. “oh god, you definitely have to throw up now.”

“watch this.” you took two of your fingers and stuffed them all the way to the back of your throat, smiling triumphantly as you showed ethan your lack of a gag reflex.

ethan could only watch in horror and exasperation. “y/n, i didn’t need proof. i already believed you.” he took some squares of toilet paper before offering it to you.

“i told you so,” you hummed, pulling your saliva covered finger out of your mouth and wiping them on the toilet paper. there was a beat of silence before ethan coughed, his cheeks and ears still burning red.

“can i make a joke?”

“of course you can.”

“it’s a, uh,” ethan cleared his throat, avoiding your intent gaze, “sex joke.”

“even better.” you situated yourself next to the toilet, still very much feeling like you were gonna hurl at any given moment.

ethan sat next to you, clearing his throat again. “i know one way we can test your gag reflex,” he stated, almost ashamed at his own joke.

you chuckled at that, the horrible joke making a you sway a bit with laughter before the sudden motion sickness got to you. without another word, you threw up into the toilet. all thanks to ethan’s horrible sex joke.

he immediately reached over to move some of your hair. you continued retching into the toilet, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. "i hate drinking," you grumbled as you laid your forehead on your arm, eyes watery from throwing up. immediately as you got the words out, you threw up again.

"i know, i know.. but i know you're gonna end up drinking again," ethan teased softly, making your back heave as you managed a laugh, only for it to be interrupted by you throwing up again. "it's okay, let it all out." he couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped his lips. “i can’t believe a sex joke made you throw up.”

and you almost laughed again if you didn’t throw up even more.

the sound of the party died into the background as ethan sat next to you on the ground. your head was laying on your arm, which was on the toilet seat. you were still intoxicated, and the world was still spinning, but you could see the obvious turmoil on ethan's face. you poked his arm. "what's wrong?"

"what?" ethan said, snapping out of his daze to send you a tight lipped smile. "nothing's wrong."

"liar."

"i'm not!"

"i know you better than that, e," you murmured, half lidded eyes staring at him. you had thrown up most of your alcohol, and while you were still inebriated, you felt a lot more clear headed than earlier. “what's wrong?"

ethan looked at you, eyes flashing with hurt as he pictured you again dancing with someone else. "do you really want to know?" he asked you, and you nodded. even while drunk, you opted to listen.

"you looked beautiful when you were dancing," ethan began, managing a soft smile, "i don't think i've ever seen you like that. it's not a bad thing or a good thing, but it's a new thing, y'know?" he sighed. "you dance really well, i'm surprised you haven't told me," a genuine smile appeared on his face when he heard you laugh quietly. "and your laugh.. i swear i would listen to it over whatever horrible music is playing right now."

ethan looked at you, taking in your obviously roughed up and intoxicated form. but somehow, even with slightly messy hair and most of your make-up rubbed off and with your breath smelling only a little bit like puke, you still looked beautiful. it was enough to make someone who talked as much as him to go quiet in awe.

"but when you laughed, and when you smiled,” ethan said slowly, taking in heavy breaths with every word. fear thrummed through his body, mingling with the nervousness as he twiddled with his fingers anxiously. to continue on would be to admit everything. to admit how he felt, the thoughts he had been having about you, everything. and to admit it to you would be to risk losing a friendship and one of the most important people in his life.

“.. you weren’t smiling or laughing at me. and i hated that.”

confusion spread over your face before realization hit your eyes. “oh.” and oh, it suddenly all made sense. why ethan was so bothered, why you were so willing to listen to one person speak for forever as long as it was them, why even as you danced with another, something was off because he wasn’t ethan. he wasn’t your best friend.

“you don’t have to say anything,” ethan mumbled, completely misinterpreting your realization for rejection. his eyes watered slightly as he avoided your gaze. “it’s been going on for a while now, and i get it if you don’t feel the same! i really do, it’s just,” he sighed shakily, “i don’t want to lose you—”

“ethan—”

“i was completely willing to just shut up about how i felt as long as that meant i could still have you in my life, y/n,” ethan said, looking into your eyes earnestly. “and i thought i could keep it under wraps but i have to tell you at least once because—”

“i love you.”

“what?” ethan blinked, making you smile, your head still resting on your arm.

“i love you, ethan.”

a toothy smile spread over his face at that, his shoulders relaxing as he searched your face for any doubt. “are you— are you sure?”

“i wouldn’t say it if i wasn’t,” you murmured softly as you raised your head, making ethan laugh in relief.

“holy shit— i love you too.” ethan said, leaning forward, only for you to stop him.

“e, i might throw up on you if you kiss me.”

“do you think i care?”

[yesimwriting]

Pulling Away

A/n did i write smut for once? yeah. also timeline wise is this perfectly accurate? it’s iffy,, but this fic isn’t about the plot too much so it’s okay

Summary: You’re not the only one that’s feeling a little territorial thanks to the influx of people you’re around in Jackson. 

warnings: 18+, implied age gap, no condom, a tiny bit manipulative if you squint, brief mention of losing virginity.

----

He’s not a force of nature, no matter how hard he might pretend to be for the sake of those around him. Joel can’t actually change anything. So the shift in temperature you feel as Joel stills has to be a byproduct of what’s in your head. 

The kind of burning cold that better fits a fever runs through you and you hate yourself for it. This isn’t the first time you’ve been delusional when it comes to him. 

You’re working off of a quarter of his face against low lighting. It doesn’t make sense for you to be able to feel so much from the little of him that you can see. It’s not anger. Or at least, not just that. There’s definitely a subdued rage radiating from him, but it’s undercut by something that punches you straight in the gut. 

Maybe you’re being a little unfair, but you have a right to it at this point. You can’t follow him around blindly like some kind of puppy forever. Especially now that you’re both settled enough to be able to think of things outside of pure survival.

“Ellie’s asleep.” A flat observation that you can’t explain. Maybe it’s the need to break the silence, or maybe it’s a genuine attempt at making things feel normal. You two should still be able to talk. You never wanted that to end. “Swore she wasn’t tired, but passed out as soon as her head touched the mattress.” 

Joel lets out a small sound from the back of his throat. It’s a spike in the atmosphere. “Think I’m gonna go to bed, too.” You don’t understand your awkwardness or the urge to create distance. It’s not like Joel would hurt you, but then again, the buzz of adrenaline doesn’t seem to be coming from a place of fear. It’s an uneasy burning that worsens when you raise your eyes enough to meet his. “Night.” 

The one word is a little better and somehow so much worse. Not aggressive or trying to make things better. It’s just there. Civil. 

When he says nothing, you take it as your sign to call it a night. Tomorrow could be better. Sure, your rocky dynamic might be going through growing pains while you set boundaries that should have been established long ago, but you’ll likely survive this. You’re all staying together in the same house in Jackson for the time being and you both care too much about Ellie to separate over something small. 

Even if Joel won’t directly admit to it, the part of your relationship that feels like co-parenting is sacred. That’s part of the reason why the feelings you’ve been fighting with yourself to dismantle are so complicated. He cares about Ellie more than he wants to admit and the last thing you need right now is to tear away the little stability she’s finally been given. Not over a few awkward conversations and stiff moments. 

The weird irony that vaguely reflects the issues of the world before isn’t lost on you. If someone were to squint at the situation, you’d seem like a wife trapped in a marriage for the sake of her children. Maybe if it was happening to someone else you’d have enough energy to find it funny. 

You turn carefully, like a too loud squeak of your shoes could be what snaps the thinning thread tying you two to a hint of casualness. You don’t need to pass him to get to where you’re sleeping. The three of you had been set up in a space that allowed for each person to have their own room. It’s like that in theory, but in practice it’s more like Ellie’s room, Joel’s room, and the spare. 

A comfortable enough bedroom that you’ve maybe spent the entire night alone in twice in the weeks you’ve been here. You can’t even pretend that you keep the few things you own in there either. Joel’s an even lighter traveler than you, so slowly your items made their way into the drawers in his room. Now, your room is basically just where you go to change into and out of sleepwear.

You’ll get used to it, used to the draft that originally led to you giving up on rocky sleep the first night you ended up sleeping next to Joel. Your dreams kept you up even more than the cold, but when Joel’s drowsy voice called out to you in the dark, asking why you were awake, you blamed the night’s chill. That’s how it first happened. 

It was a mistake you should have never let turn into habit. You’re correcting it now. Setting boundaries to prevent heartbreak. It’s only a matter of time considering the way the women here look at him.

“Since when do you sleep in there?”

His voice is so gruff it instinctually freezes you. Any sarcastic comment at the back of your throat vanishes immediately. The both of you are fully aware of how you end up each night, but it’s a boundary in itself not to mention it. You’re not sure if it’s more him or you, but what happens at night and early in the morning is never mentioned.

It’s a dip into another reality. A space where Joel’s a little lighter, almost more open. Sometimes he’ll drag your arm with him when he moves onto his side, a silent way of asking you to stay close. On the best nights, he’ll joke about it, letting your limbs meld together under a blanket and swear he’s just trying to keep you warm out of the kindness of his heart. 

His humor is the worst. The kind that some might justify as a result of years of it being at a stalemate for years considering the tragic state of the world, but you know better. They’re the kind of jokes that take a second to settle because of his general exterior, but are meant to be so dumb they force out a smile. In another life, the little comments are dad jokes.

The peace bleeds into the mornings now, he’ll keep the closeness and remind you that you don’t have to get up immediately by mumbling something about Ellie still being asleep. Like she’s the only thing significant enough to get you two to return to reality. 

You’re convinced that these moments exist because neither of you mention them. He’s crossing a line you didn’t realize meant so much to you and he’s being dramatic it, too. It’s not the rarest thing for you to ‘attempt’ to sleep in your own bed. Sure, you’re more likely to lay in that room for a few hours on nights where Ellie stays up a little later, but this isn’t the strangest thing you’ve done. 

He’s ripping any chance of returning to that separate world away from you. It stings more than it should. “Thought I’d give it a try,” you voice is too low, too defensive, “It’s not a big deal.” 

The defense sounds so weak in your own ears, you don’t even want to imagine what he took from it. “Bullshit.”

His voice comes out in such a low huff you feel it more than hear it. If the sound had felt any less dangerous, you would have pretended to mistake it for another wordless grunt. Your lips part slowly as your mind struggles to create any kind of logical response. 

Pretending is clearly getting you nowhere. The only reason you ever pretended it would was pure delusion. Joel has always been able to see through you, through any shift in mood. Even when your lies are better, his ability to sense them is uncanny. 

He turns with no warning. Joel crosses the space between you before you can even fully register his steps. Your body tenses as heat rushes to your face in result of an oddly charged parody of fight or flight. You almost step back, one heel shifting back, but then you meet his gaze and the determined glint behind his eye is enough to melt you into place. 

There’s something else there, too. A focus that pins you into place even further. Holds you there better than the barrel of a pistol could. 

The absurdity of the warmth rooted in your chest should be enough to make the feeling go away. It doesn’t, so you force your lips to part again. You need to say something. Anything. “Joel?” Not that. Not just his name in a voice that feels violently small. 

“You’re pullin’ away.” 

The accusation in his voice leaves no room for argument. You try anyways, “No.” The rest of your thoughts can’t come out while you’re looking at him at the same time. There’s shame in dropping your gaze to focus on your shoes and the little space between you. “It’s not like that.” 

Joel lets out a low sound. The creak of the floor as he steps forward again snaps you out of your trance. You step back in a desperate attempt to keep the space between the two of you equal. Your back hits the wall before you can come close to achieving your goal. It’s a knee jerk reaction that leaves your face feeling even warmer than before. A part of you expects Joel to laugh at the sound or at least comment on it. He doesn’t. He continues forward until his mouth is so close to your ear the warmth of his breath lingers when he exhales. 

He takes a second there, relishing in your stillness. “Don’t lie to me.” Joel pulls away just enough to look you in the eye. “You don’t want to talk to me, you’re talkin’ about leavin’.” The southern drawl of his voice is increasing with his frustration. It’s distracting in a way that feels too convenient. Like he’s doing this on purpose. 

You swallow once. “You found your brother. I have a sister out there, I’d--I think now that things are more settled with Ellie it wouldn’t be the worst thing for me to look for her.” 

“And you don’t want us goin’ with you, but you’re more than willing to let the guy that’s always lookin’ at you--” 

“Oh my god, is that what this is about?” You are insane. Of course his issue is who mentioned it. John knows travel, leaves Jackson and comes back in one piece when he needs to. He wouldn’t be the worst person to have with you if you did want to start a rudimentary search for your sister. “I didn’t make any plans with John, it just came up.” 

“You don’t want us goin’ with you.” 

Your throat feels dry. The thought of it makes you feel cold. You haven’t seen your sister in a few years and so much has changed. You’re no longer in the QZ and your sister has no way of knowing that. She can’t reach out if there’s trouble or good news and she has no reason to assume that you’re safe. You know where she lives, and if she’s not there, you know a few of her usual spots. She doesn’t typically stray too far from her bubble. It wouldn’t be a long trip, just long enough. 

Long enough to give you some space. Long enough to remember what it’s like to not be around Joel all the time. Long enough to feel less about him. 

And you’d come back. You wouldn’t just walk out of his life and Ellie’s forever. The little bit of space you’re trying to get would make it easier for you to stick around in the long run because it’s the only way you can think to get rid of the feelings that are trying to ruin everything. 

“We haven’t been here that long and Ellie’s finally starting to feel settled. I don’t want to drag her out of that yet and make her feel like her entire life is just going to be her being dragged around the country.” 

Your words are a jumble, rushed together in a way that makes the honesty of them less effective. It’s a good point. Ellie just called her room hers the other day and even asked about moving the bed against a different wall.

Joel lets out a low breath, eyes hardening. “You’re right. She’s settlin’ and she needs you.” He knows he’s hit his mark when you don’t respond. “How do you think she’s gonna take the news that you’re leaving?” 

“Leaving to visit my sister.” You struggle to swallow. “Temporarily. It’ll take less than two weeks.” 

His lips pull into a frown as his eyebrows together. Moody and brooding. The look you’ve openly referred to as his old man scowl. “With John.” 

Ugh. This again. Why does it matter? Yes, John will be there, but it’s not like it’s just you and John. Your sister isn’t that far and she has access to supplies that aren’t common, she has an understanding with people that have easy access to medical supplies. 

But even if it was just you and John, it doesn’t matter. There are a lot of areas in which you factor in Joel’s opinion, but this is definitely not one of them. You two aren’t together and with the way he does nothing to show any discontent when the girls here start to look at him, he definitely doesn’t need you keeping his bed warm at night. 

“If I go, he wouldn’t be the only one there.” The fact that you’re trying to justify John’s presence leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. You’re a grown woman, free to associate with whoever you want. You might jokingly call him your old man from time to time, but he has no right. “And if even if he was, what does it matter?” 

His jaw locks and the downwards tilt of his chin erases the little bit of confidence you’ve managed to build. “You’ve seen the way that boy looks at you.”

You have to bite your tongue to avoid from blurting out that he’s also seen the way majority of the women you see on a daily basis look at him. Joel’s also exaggerating. John does not have any feelings for you, and if he did, it wouldn’t matter. It’s not like you see John as anything more than a friend. But even if you did--it is not his business. At all. 

“He doesn’t.” There’s little point in saying that, Joel’s not one to have his mind so easily swayed and he’s been wary of John since the beginning. Sometimes it even feels like the more you insist that he’s a good friend, the more Joel seems to dislike him. “And if he did, it doesn’t matter.” 

Your words feel like a retreat they shouldn’t need to be. Small, the meaning of the sentence compacted and straining against the limited syllables. A part of you expects Joel to understand what you do mean. That it doesn’t matter because it takes two interested parties to form any kind of relationship. That your mind isn’t even there in terms of feeling safe...that the only person who has ever made you feel safe enough to imagine anything beyond friendship is right in front of you. 

For the first time, Joel doesn’t pick up on the relevance of what isn’t said. You can feel his lack of understanding in the way he moves, placing one hand on the wall, near your head. You blink, trying in vain to explain the motion, explain his proximity. He’s caging you in. 

The heat of his body is practically inescapable, amplified by the way he smells. Joel showered a little earlier, his natural scent combining pleasantly with that of plain soap. After so many nights next to him, you would think you would have developed a tolerance. You haven’t. And even if you did, you doubt it’d matter...this is different. Dizzying. 

“Doesn’t matter?” 

He’s somehow even closer and somehow not touching you. The realization that that’s the worst part of this leaves your stomach fluttering. You need the feeling gone, so you force out the first words that come to mind, “It matters as much as all the girls that look at you like that.” 

It feels more bitter than it comes out, leaving a metallic taste on your tongue. You need out. You need space. You need sleep. Joel’s silence feels like opportunity, so as subtly as you can you try to shift away from the wall. Your back is off the wall for less than a second before you’re pushed back against it. 

Your body hits the wall before you can realize that Joel’s hand is on your hip. There’s too much surprise for that fact to settle, so you look up at him almost bewildered. You expect him to let go or at least look somewhat apologetic. He does the opposite, moving the hand on the wall under your jaw and closing the distance between you in a motion so quick you can barely register it. 

His mouth is on yours before your mind can catch up. It makes no difference to him. He’s rabid in his patience, taking what he wants without forcing your lips to part. His hand squeezes your hip and all at once it connects. You gasp and Joel pins you to the wall even more securely, deepening the kiss with an expert’s ease. 

It lasts until you can’t breathe and ends with his teeth grazing against your bottom lip as he pulls away. “All of this,” the words are exhaled lowly, “’Cause you’re jealous.” 

The kiss left you so light headed your first instinct is to just agree. To not think and do or say whatever you need to in order to get him that close again. But his tone is too sure, too teasing, and the implication isn’t something he can just get away with. “Jealous?” His smugness is hard to take with him holding you against the wall like this. It’s too vulnerable, like this might be some kind of game to him. It makes you feel transparent. Hollow. “Fuck whoever you want, I don’t care.” 

It’s like you’ve said nothing until Joel has the audacity to squeeze your hip. “Whoever I want?” His hand shifts up your hip, your shirt moving with him. “Hm.” His hum settles beneath your skin, effectively silencing you as his eyes take their time raking over your face and down your body. “Those were some big words from you.” 

Heat rushes to your face. It’s ridiculous--you curse more than that on a regular basis. He’s playing into context, too aware of what he’s doing. The urge to push burns twice as hard as buzzing in your chest. “They’re true. We’re not--we’re not anything, so if I want to go with--” 

“I’m not losin’ you.” There’s a desperation in there that comes out so hard it circles back to vulnerable. “You wanna go see your sister, we go see your sister. That’s how we got through everything else.” The hand on your hip moves down, his fingers dipping beneath the elastic waistband of your shorts. You hate yourself a little for the way your breath audibly catches. “Understand?” 

His hand lowers even further, long fingers pressing against the fabric of your underwear. You’re not breathing right and you can’t bring yourself to care. The only thing you can think of is closer. “Y-yes.” 

“’Yes’ what?” No sympathy in his voice or anything that would give away that he has a hand shoed down your pants. 

His touch picks up pace, rubbing against you until a whimper escapes your lips. “Yes, sir.”

Joel moves his hand away with no warning. The whine that escapes your lips doesn’t feel like your own. He’s barely touched you and you’re already like this. “Barely touched you and you’re already listening.” He hooks two fingers in between the band of your underwear. “Should’ve done this awhile again, then.” 

You’re burning all over, the only thing you can manage is a quick, “Shut up.” It lacks any bite. 

He pulls at the band of our underwear, letting it snap back into place. If you didn’t know any better, you’d consider the flash of something softer across his face as amusement. “If you want me to stop, you’ve gotta tell me.” 

Your nod feels desperate. Your entire body feels desperate. For the way he kissed you, the way he touched you. “I-I’ll tell you.” He’s still not moving, not doing anything. It’s some sort of punishment. It has to be. “Joel...” 

“You going to say ‘please’?” 

You have half a mind to tell him to fuck off, but then his fingers hook around your underwear again. A promise. “Please, Joel.” This is all unfamiliar but you trust Joel to get what you want, what you need. “Need you.” 

With no warning, he yanks down your shorts and underwear. They fall down your legs and you blindly kick them to the side. “Need me?” He tilts his head down, pressing an open mouthed kiss against your cheek, then two to your jaw. “Need me where, sweetheart?” 

God. Anywhere. Everywhere. Your desperation reminds you of how incredibly unfair it is that you’re already down to just our t-shirt and Joel’s still fully dressed. You move your hand slowly, carefully tugging at whatever piece of clothing on him you can reach. 

He’s unimpressed. “C’mon, use your big girl words.” His hand is in between your thighs, his fingers teasing at your entrance in a way that makes it impossible to focus on anything else. “You were usin’ them just fine a second ago.” 

“Joel,” he kisses your jaw again, forcing away all train of thought. It has to be intentional. “Joel,” again, too soft. 

“I know,” he exhales the words against your neck, “I know, sweetheart. Need me to take care of you.” Joel doesn’t wait for a reaction, just pushes his fingers fully into you. You gasp too loudly, Joel moves his free hand over your mouth. “Be a good girl and be quiet. Can’t wake up Ellie.” 

Shit. How did you not think of that? “You’ll be good and quiet for me? Let me stretch you out a bit first?” There’s a knot in your stomach that’s slowly taking over all of your senses. As long as Joel keeps working at it, you could promise him anything. You nod against the palm of his hand. 

You bite your tongue to keep from whimpering too loudly. “Need you to relax,” he presses into you even more firmly, “Get you ready for me.” 

He slowly eases his hand off of your face. “Joel, please.” You’re not even sure what you’re asking for, you just know you need more. You want him to consume you entirely. Feel him until he’s all there is.

You hear the sound of a belt buckle and his jeans shifting. Instinctually, you move a hand towards him, wanting to help, wanting to feel him. “There’ll be time for that, right now it’s about you.” You’re about to argue when he skillfully adds another finger. Fuck. “You’re tight,” he breathes, “No one’s ever touched you here?” 

His fingers curl inside of you and you have to burry your face into the fabric of his shirt to keep from crying out. “Only you.” 

“Look who’s found her manners.” He’s picking up the pace and smoothing down your hair as you squirm against him. “Should’ve done this sooner.” Just as the coil in your lower stomach tightens, Joel takes his hand back. 

You push yourself off of him, staring at him with an expression you know he’ll consider pouting. “Why’d you--” 

“Because I want you to remember this.” He pushes you back to the wall, pressing his body against you. The head of his cock brushes against your entrance. With no warning, he pushes into you. Your sharp gasp overlaps with Joel’s low groan. “Y’need a man to fuck the attitude out of you.” He moves slowly, the friction unbelievably overwhelming and somehow not enough. “That boy wouldn’t know what to do with you.” 

Joel presses you further into the wall, sinking into you as deep as possible before pulling out just to sink back in. His pace is even until his breathing picks up. You’re a mess against him, hiding your face in his chest when he starts fucking you with full force.

“You’re squeezing me so good.” Joel practically pants the words into your skin. “Fuck, ‘m going to--you gonna finish with me, sweetheart?” 

Your mind is mush, you can barely nod against him as his thrusts start to lose their focus. You’re pushed over the edge as Joel’s teeth graze against your neck. He pulls at your orgasm, dragging it along until your legs are jelly and he’s pulling out in order to not finish inside you. 

The two of you stay holding onto each other for what feels like a long time and not enough. “You’re not goin’ anywhere, okay?”

You pull your head off of him enough to look him in the eye. “Not without you.” 

He smiles, lines that you can imagine kissing forever etching themselves into his skin. “That’s my girl.” Joel runs a hand up and down your back fondly. “Let’s go to bed,” he presses a kiss against your jaw, “Give me the space to properly appreciate you.”

The thought makes your body burn all over again. “You sure you aren’t tired out, old man?” 

Joel huffs out what’s almost a laugh, “We’ll see who’s tiring who out, sweetheart.” 

[avatar-anna]

The One About the Documentary

i watched part one of the yolanda and selena documentary so you don't have to...and it pissed me tf off. anyway enjoy!

Harry Styles x Latina! Reader Masterlist

When his girlfriend asked to watch the documentary, Harry said yes, but hesitantly.

In all honesty, Harry didn't think Y/n would have any desire to watch it, but at eight o'clock sharp, she was on the couch armed with a bowl of popcorn and two bottles of coke, one for him and one for her.

"Can I ask why we're—"

"Shh! It's starting."

Harry settled into the couch, his arm around his girlfriend, whose eyes were glued to the TV the second the documentary began.

*.*

"So Yolanda's the only one who knew about this alleged affair?" Y/n said to no one in particular. "Yeah fucking right. I hope Chris Perez never watches this."

Harry covered his hand with his mouth to hide his grin. His girlfriend had a knack for talking about people she didn't know as if they were good friends.

Taking a handful of popcorn out of the bowl, he kissed Y/n's cheek. "I don't imagine anyone close to Selena is watching this."

Huffing, Y/n slumped back against Harry's side, angrily chewing popcorn. "I hate her," she grumbled, and he knew she wasn't talking about Selena.

Playing with a strand of her hair, he turned his attention back to the TV. "I know."

*.*

"¿Un accidente? ¿Fue un accidente?" Y/n all but shouted at the screen. Her brows were narrowed in an adorable glare, nose slightly crinkled in anger. "Are you kidding me? You shot her! In the back! Twice!"

Harry debated whether to intervene or stay seated on the couch. His hand reached for the bowl of popcorn in the meantime, taking a handful as he watched his girlfriend shout at Yolanda Saldivar.

"Lovey, maybe we should turn it off," he ended up saying.

Her head whipped around, her glare landing on Harry, though he knew it wasn't aimed at him. "Why?"

Why? he thought. Because you hate Yolanda and I'm not sure my arm can take anymore angry punches.

"You seem a little...heated?"

Y/n's eyes blazed. "Of course I'm heated! This whole thing is bullshit!"

Harry knew his girlfriend was passionate, it was one of the things he loved about her. And one thing Y/n happened to be passionate about was Selena Quintanilla Perez.

"I know that, and you know that, so why are we watching this?"

Y/n had sent numerous messages about the documentary in question when word first got out that it would be released. Fiery texts about how ridiculous it was that someone so horrible was making a documentary after all these years, about how no one would ever be stupid enough to take Yolanda's side, and so on. Harry, of course, was inclined to agree, but he also thought Y/n was merely ranting about the trailer. He didn't think they'd be sitting down to watch it. Honestly, he thought his girlfriend wouldn't have given it the time of day.

"I—I don't know, but I can't just not finish it," Y/n said. "I'm watching in protest."

Swallowing a laugh, Harry pulled his girlfriend back onto the couch. "Okay, then, lovey. Then sit down and let's finish it."

*.*

"Oh come on, Yolanda," Harry groaned, his voice nearly reaching Y/n's frustrated levels. "If all this evidence has been sitting in some storage unit for all these years, why is it only coming out now?"

Y/n was practically bouncing in her seat on the couch as the woman in question spoke. She shook Harry's shoulder with her hands, but he was used to it by now. This was a normal occurrence for any movie night.

"That's my point!" Y/n said. "She's evil. She'll be hard pressed to find an unbiased jury when it's time for her parole."

"You think she'll really be let out on parole?"

Y/n shrugged, her eyes on the television. "She'd probably be safer in solitary."

"Y/n!"

"What? It's the truth!"

*.*

"¡Bruja! ¡Mentirosa! Who the fuck is buying this? You admitted! ¡Me cago en la reputísima madre que te parió la reconcha de tu—"

"Aaand that's where we'll stop," Harry said, turning the TV off with a definitive click of the remote.

"Wha—Why? It's almost done!"

Harry ignored Y/n's protests and took her into his arms, taking her away from the TV and the couch and the popcorn, which she'd begun to throw at the screen in outrage. As he took the stairs up to their room, Y/n turned to begging, promising she'd behave and stop throwing popcorn, but Harry was having none of it.

"This is for your own good, lovey," he said. "It's not healthy to be angry like that."

"Oh, so I'm being irrational?"

Harry merely rolled his eyes. "Now you know I didn't say that."

"Well...You're...Put me down! I need to finish!"

"Not tonight, lovey."

Harry set Y/n on the bed gently. She crossed her arms and glared at him, but it was half-assed, and not entirely directed at her and still at Public Enemy Number One.

She gave him the silent treatment as they got ready for bed, but Harry knew it wouldn't last. His girlfriend had a short fuse, but the emphasis was on short. Y/n didn't stay mad for very long, she never had as long as he knew her. Harry gave it until he got to the second chapter of his book and the silent treatment would come to an end.

It took the third, but Harry smiled a little as Y/n held hos cheek in her hand and kissed the other. "I'm not gonna apologize for being angry," she said.

"I wouldn't expect you to. I know how you feel about Yolanda Saldivar."

Y/n hummed. "But, I apologize for the popcorn. And the excessive profanity. And for bruising your shoulder."

Setting his book down, Harry looked at his girlfriend, nothing but affection—and perhaps mild amusement—in his gaze. "It's okay. I hardly felt a thing."

"Liar," Y/n giggled. "But thank you for putting up with...I don't know, me, I guess."

Harry took that as his opportunity to kiss her properly. Y/n squeaked in surprise, cradling his face gingerly as he slotted his lips over hers. Laying her down properly on the bed, he hovered over her, his hand running along her bare thigh and up past her night gown. Because Y/n was the kind of woman who wore little nightgowns before bed.

That was how Harry knew she wasn't totally mad at him. She wore one of her shorter, more revealing ones. She had a couple that went down to her calves that weren't expressly for when she was pissed at Harry, but he knew—though the joke was on her, he thought she looked just as sexy in those.

Y/n wrapped her legs around Harry's waist, her arms twining around his neck as he kissed the shell of her ear, the curve of her jaw. "It's not 'putting up with,' lovey," he murmured. "You should know that by now. If anyone puts up with anyone in this relationship it's you."

Leaning up on her elbows, Y/n made Harry look her in the eye. "So we're both a little crazy. That's nothing new."

Harry just grinned down at his girl, admiring the soft look in her eyes, the amused arch of her brow, her swollen lips, and chest that breathed heavily. Y/n might have had a short temper, she might throw popcorn at the TV when it made her mad, and she might curse and hit him when she felt particularly outraged, but she put up with all of his quirks with a smile too, loved him for every single one. Harry took up most of their shared closet space—which he had a weird thing about color coding—he had a tendency to talk in his sleep, he had to sit on the same side of the couch and made Y/n move if she was sitting on it (though now she knew better), he often scraped the bottom of the rice pot into the sink before Y/n could save her favorite crunchy parts which drove her nuts, and he had the unfortunate habit of leaving the cap off his toothpaste.

And there was the whole no-privacy thing because of his job, but that wasn't much of a quirk.

"I'm cool with it if you are."

Y/n smiled. "So you'll watch part two with me?"

"Hell no. But I will support you if you decide to scream at Yolanda and her fucked up family through the TV a second time."

"You're gonna regret that," Y/n said as she began to run her hands down Harry's broad shoulders. "Selena. Morning and night. Every minute of every day."

"That's...not a threat, lovey."

Y/n pouted. "Shit, you're right. I'll...only speak Spanish around you so you never know what I'm saying."

Harry's grin widened as he leaned down to kiss her collarbone. "I don't think you realize how sexy you sound, even when you're cross with me. Or your arch nemesis, for that matter."

"Well then I'll—"

"Face it, lovey. There's very little you could use to threaten me," he said, dragging the words over her neck. "Now let me love on you a bit before bed."

"What if I said no?" she asked, even though they both knew she wouldn't. Y/n just liked to be contrary for the sake of it.

"Well that would just be cruel to the both of us, wouldn't it?"

Finally relenting, Y/n slumped back against the bed, bringing Harry with her. She held the back of his head, her grip firm as she brought his lips to hers once more. Harry hummed triumphantly against her mouth, savoring the taste of her on his tongue. They eventually found themselves tangled together, Harry on his back while he hugged Y/n close to his chest. One hand was buried deep in her hair while the other kept a steady grip on her waist. He already knew each little sound she made, each reaction burned time and time again into his mind. But he collected each sigh, each graze of teeth like it was the first time, savoring it like this would be his only opportunity to ever kiss her.

Infatuated. He was infatuated with her. He loved when Y/n was loud and bright and opinionated, and he loved when she was shy and demure and unsure of herself. He loved the way she said his name when she was exasperated by something he did, and he was obsessed with the way she sometimes started speaking in another language without realizing it. He loved the way she loved him, so confidently, so tenderly—he loved that each devouring kiss seemed to say that she was just as infatuated as he was, that he wasn't alone in these intense feelings.

"Love you, bubba," Y/n murmured, the words getting tangled in their kiss.

"Love you," he replied.

It was all there really was to say.

[minniesmutt]

♱ ━━━━━━ 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋: 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓 

♱ ━━━ CONTENT: ORAL [F. REC] FINGERING, MULTIPLE ORGASMS, OVERSTIM, PET NAMES, UNPROTECTED SEX, NIPPLE PLAY, CUM SHOT, CUM EATING/SHARING, AFTERCARE ♱ ━━━ WC: 1.9K ♱ ━━━ PAIRING: HAN X READER ♱ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog ♱ ━━━ a repost from my old blog

     After a short nap, Y/n took to unpacking the things she had brought. It was mostly clothing and a few photos but nothing else. Maybe if she asked, one of them would take her shopping. 

     She heard the elevator ding and peeked her head out of the bedroom. Chan walked out, hands in the pockets of his slacks. Y/n stepped out of the room and met him in the hallway 

     “How are you settling it?” Chan asked as he wrapped an arm around her

     “Fine, the place is a bit bare though,” Y/n told him.

     “I’ll have one of the guys take you out shopping tomorrow. I just came by to see how you were settling in and to go over something with you.”

     “Oh?”

     “Come on,” Chan pulled her into the kitchen. Sitting down at the table he had put in for her and pulling out a stack of paper

     “What’s this?” Y/n asked skimming through the words

     “Contract. Jist of it says what you’ll be doing as a front and you will be paid for the work you help us with,” Chan stated

     “You guys are paying me but you’re also basically paying everything for me?”

     “Think of it as fallback money. If something happens to us for any reason or another, for any amount of time, you’re not left with nothing to fall back on, financially that is.”

     “How considerate.” Y/n smiled, “I’m assuming there’s another part that talks about sex.”

     “Yeah. Every one of us has our own version of this contract. But you're welcome to update anything in it to your comfort level. Most of it goes over what we are into and that every single one of us is clean.” Chan explained

     “Well, so am I, guess there really is no point in condoms,” Y/n smiled

     “Only to prevent a pregnancy.”

     “I’m on birth control. Don't worry about that.”

     Chan explained a couple more things; everyone was made aware of using the traffic light system as a safeword— tapping them twice if she was able to talk for whatever reason as a fallback—, aftercare being important to all of them no matter what, promising her safety from anyone outside of them, etc. Y/n read through the papers as she listened to him, making a few adjustments here and there, but mostly agreeing with what everyone wanted. She signed her name where needed and turned the paper back to him. Chan checked everything and made a quick message about changes to the rest of the guys. 

     “We don’t expect you to memorize anything either. And it doesn't have to be one way, you can ask us for sex too.”

     “Thanks, Chan,” Y/n smiled at him

     “No need to thank me,” Chan smiled back

     “Is there anything else I should know now that I live here?”

     “Say goodbye to your privacy,” Chan chuckled

     The two laughed for a moment before Chan got called away. Y/n saw him off before going into her living room. They had been kind enough to furnish the apartment for her so that was one thing she didn't have to worry about. She figured she’d do a little online shopping for a bit. Adding things she just thought were pretty to her cart, even if she didn't need them. She’ll find a use for them.

     She heard the elevator again and ignored it after looking up for a second, one of the guys came in to see her, something she was quickly getting used to. 

     “Whatcha doing,” Jisung asked as he joined her on the couch, laying on top of her as she was laid back against the armrest

     “Shopping,” Y/n answered as she peered down at him. 

     “For what?” He asked

     “House decorations, clothes, random shit.”

     “Doesn’t sound like fun.”

     “Well, I was bored and that’s why I started. If you have better ideas, I’m all ears.” Y/n dropped her phone on her chest and looked down at him

     “Just keep shopping,” Jisung smirked

     Y/n shrugged and picked her phone back up. Scrolling through the website she was on. Jisung pushed her shirt up a bit then pulled her leggings off her legs. Y/n lifted her hips a bit to help him as he adjusted her legs to lay over his shoulders as he came face to face with her clothed cunt. 

     Y/n peeked down at him before he started kissing down and licking the cloth of her panties. Y/n let out a small moan as he continued teasing her over the fabric. Nonetheless, she kept shopping. 

     Eventually, he removed the fabric and softly kissed her clit, licking the bud to her entrance. Y/n smiled as she peered down at him. One hand removed itself from her phone and ran her fingers through his hair, gazing back at her screen. Jisung picked up his pace after a few moments until he was eating her like a starved man. 

     It wasn’t long till the phone and shopping were forgotten. Her hands tangled in his soft locks and her legs threatened to close around his head. 

     Han hummed against her clit as she gave him a particularly harsh tug. His eyes cast up her body as flicked the little bud. “Fuck Ji,” Y/n moaned

     Jisung didn’t dare let up. Playing with her clit and entrance with his tongue. Enjoying the taste of her juices on his lips and dripping down his chin. He just gave a bit more pressure when he sucked on her clit which seemed to do it for her. Hips rutted against his mouth as he licked her clean from her orgasm. 

     “So fucking good,” He wasn’t letting up. He continued making out with her sensitive clit. Y/n closed her legs around his head as much as she could. Jisung groaned against her cunt, eyes rolling into the back of his head, just from her thighs suffocating him slightly. 

     He pushed her thighs up after a minute. Putting them to her chest as he kept going. 

     “Close,” Y/n whimpered as she grabbed the cushions. 

     “Give me ‘nother,” Ji mumbled against her clit. He pushed one leg over the back of the couch to free up a hand. 

     Soon he was pushing two fingers into her and matching his pace to the rate he was eating her out

     “Fuck!” Y/n cried as her second orgasm hit her. 

     Ji kept going through her high. Fingers pumping in and out of her as he pulled his hips from her clit and sat up on his knees. “One more doll. Give one more and I’ll give you whatever you want,” Jisung begged as he pulled her other leg over his shoulder and kissed her ankle 

     “Need your cock,” Y/n whined, legs slightly shaking

     “One more baby and I'll give it to ya’.” a third finger pushed into her

     “Too much,” Y/n whined as she grabbed his wrist 

     “Color?”

     “Green!” Y/n called as his fingers curled into just the right spot 

     “You can take it, doll,” Ji smiled 

     He pushed forward till he had her coming on his fingers. Her body convulsed under him as he pulled his fingers out, watching her juices flow out of her and soak the cushions. 

     “Good job doll,” Jisung smiled as he leaned down and kissed her forehead. 

     He gave her a moment to come down and rest. He took off his belt, setting it on the coffee table. 

     “Where the fuck did you learn to eat pussy that good?” Y/n asked after her mind out of its haze a bit more

     “Now why would I tell you?” He smirked as he leaned over her.

     “Secrets are hot. You know what's hotter?”

     “What?”

     “Your dick in me.”

     Jisung didn’t waste another second pulling ever fully down onto the couch and unbuttoning his pants and pulling his hard dick out, far too eager to actually take his pants off. Y/n couldn’t help but giggle at his eagerness and worked on unbuttoning his top and pushing it off him as he pumped his cock. He took his hand off his cock to take the white shirt off his body. Her hand replaced his on his cock, pumping him and lining the tip up at her entrance.

     Jisung tossed the fabric to the ground before grabbing her hips and pushing into her. Both moaned as they got quickly used to the feeling. Jisung pushed his pants and boxers down more as he let her adjust to him. 

     “Fuck, move Ji,” Y/n whined 

     Jisung pushed her t-shirt up over her breast and moved her legs around his waist. He laid his hand on the armrest above her head. He pulled out slowly and thrusted back in quickly. His eyes glanced back and forth from her tits bouncing with his thrusts to her cunt swallowing him. 

     Y/n was a mess of moans and whines from him going down on her and making her come three times. Her walls were already clenching around him. 

     “Fucking warm,” Jisung groaned as his hips snapped into her. 

     Y/n tightened her legs around his waist. One of his hands fell from the armrest to lay next to her body. He lowered himself a bit to kiss between her breasts then sucked on the skin. Y/n ran her hands through his hair as his lips latched onto her nipple. Y/n gripped his hair tighter, clenching it around him. 

     “Keep clenching around me doll and I’m gonna blow,” his words were muffled against her boob, shifting his ministrations over to the other nipple and giving it the same treatment he gave the other

     “Give…me, please.” Y/n whined. Her legs hiked up higher on his waist as she got closer to her next high.

     “Got you all dumb on my cock,” Jisung couldn’t help but chuckle at her.

     His tip hit right up against her g-spot. She pulled at his hair as her orgasm hit her again. The man above her pulled away from her nipples and gave himself a few more thrusts before pulling out; coming on her lower stomach. 

     Jisung rested his head on her chest as they both caught their breath. It took a few minutes before Jisung lowered himself down and then looked up at her. Y/n caught his gaze as he licked his cum from her skin. Y/N shivered under the touch of his tongue before he pulled away, bringing his lips back up to hers. His tongue immediately darted into her mouth. Y/n melted as his cum transferred from his tongue to hers.

     Ji pulled away after another moment of enjoying her lips. “You could’ve come inside,” Y/n told him

     “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” Jisung smiled.

     He stood up from the couch and fully took his pants off. He scooped her up in his arms making her squeak in surprise. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he made his way to her bathroom. 

     Jisung sat her down before giving her a forehead kiss. He started a warm bath for the both of them before walking out of the room and grabbing their clothes. Y/n took care of herself by the time he came back and checked the water. 

     “How are you feeling,” Jisung asked as he helped her into the water after he got in.

     “Tired,” Y/n sighed, leaning back against him.

     Jisung wrapped his arms around her body and kissed her shoulder, “Go to sleep, I’ll take care of you.” 

     “Thank you, Ji.”

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[octuscle]

I like the work the Chronivac did to “assist” that office. I definitely wouldn’t mind if my 9-5 colleagues were as inspired to hit the gym, instead. Maybe there’s a training video I can share with them?

Strictly speaking, you're not exactly a sporting ace… Okay, you go swimming twice a week. You eat a reasonably healthy diet. You're one of the fitter ones in the company. But you're also one of the youngest. You have advantages there… In any case, you've already submitted a proposal for a fitness program to the internal suggestion scheme. Let's see what effect that will have. But now you have to get on with your work.

After a few days, you will receive a parcel by internal mail. "Stephen, is that you?" you ask in amazement. Stephen is your age and has been in the post office for ages. He's actually a skinny, pimply guy who you've always felt sorry for. But now you're looking at a muscular jock who smells of sweat and musk. "My name is Steve, are you Robert Hitch?" "Dude, we've known each other for five years, you should know my name is Mike." Steve grins, shrugs his shoulders, puts the package on your desk, takes a deep breath from his armpit and says he doesn't give a shit.

Robert Hitch is your boss. Steve should have known that. The package is from Chronivac Inc. Doesn't tell you anything. But it's personally addressed to Robert. Although you actually have better things to do, you drop the package off at Robert's. He looks a little horrified. As if you had caught a child reaching into the candy drawer. He asks who the parcel is from. You shrug your shoulders. He wipes a little sweat from his forehead. But that's nothing special. The fat pig sweats all the time.

You forget the story after a few minutes. The stock markets are going crazy, you have your hands full. At some point during the evening, you receive an e-mail from Robert. It goes to the whole department. Subject: Mens sana in corpore sano. It's actually about promoting physical fitness. There is a link to a piece of software that you should download. You do that and go back to the risk profile of your bond portfolio.

Frederique and Jean-Paul are the two stars of your investment banking. Both have a knack for making quick and correct decisions. They are among the few people who are still at the bank at this time of day. You drop by for a chat with them. As usual, they are hardly distracted by the screens. When you ask them if they have downloaded the software, they just nod their heads. Have they looked at it yet? A shake of the head. Okay, you're not going to get into a conversation here.

When you come into the office the next morning, you see Marcus and James sitting spellbound in front of their screens. The two of them are staring at pictures of fitness models doing strength exercises. You ask if this has anything to do with the link from yesterday. James says he has no idea what that shit is about. He's here to work, not to exercise. Marcus nods. But neither of them turn their heads away from the screen for a second.

You ask if you should bring them a coffee. They both shake their heads. Marcus mumbles something about whether there are protein shakes in the coffee kitchen. You think it's a joke.

There are actually canisters of protein powder in the coffee kitchen. You think for a moment about whether you should really bring Marcus a shake. But why would he drink a protein shake? You regularly go out for lunch together. You've already talked about God and the world. But never about food supplements.

As you're on your way back to work with your coffee, it almost falls out of your hand. Marcus and James are sitting over their work again. So presumably. There are definitely two men sitting in their seats, working. But neither of them looks like Marcus. Or like James. They're both talking and every other word is "bro" or "fuck". But they're obviously working on the quarterly report again. Something is strange. Very strange.

As you pass Mr. Hitch's office, your coffee falls out of your hand. You stare at the person who sounds so much like Robert. As if Robert spoke a deep, well-trained bass. But the man looks different. "Shit, bruhs, we have to change da dress code. Shoulder coverings only optional from now on. Shit, bruhs! sun's out, guns out!"

Your productivity is limited. In the department chat, people who have never been interested in sport exchange tips on how to gain mass as quickly as possible. Steve drops off the mail and asks you if you know what a protein fart is. You shake your head and Steve shows you. Shit, that stinks unnaturally. Roaring laughter from the surrounding tables. Someone shouts "Attention, en voici un autre!" And shortly afterwards you hear the incredible sound of a fart. You get up and see who it came from. At Frederique and Jean-Paul's desk, two giants are having a lively discussion. Your French is not very good. But they're obviously arguing about whether the current share price of Chronivac Inc. is undervalued. The one you think is Frederique is flexing his tattooed biceps. And the other one laughs and says "Acheter! Acheter!"

You've never wanted an individual office so much. The air is cutting. Sweat, musk, protein farts. You take another look at Robert's email from last night. You open the link. And you can't take your eyes off the screen. You feel the urge to wank your boner. A wet spot forms on your pants… You take off your jacket with some difficulty. Phew, you stink of sweat. Ads for tank tops appear on the screen. Shit, if you don't go straight to the toilet and jerk off now, you're going to cum in your pants.

The toilet is very busy. You see how Robert has put one of his department heads against the wall and is shagging him. You stand at a urinal and take out your hard-on. Steve approaches from behind. You don't have to jerk off on your own, he is happy to help you.

[payasita]

Good job getting ADHD medication! I’m so proud of you :D

thanks so so much im very happy and so hopeful for the first time maybe ever but also it TOOK ME LIKE. A YEAR. A YEAR.

like yall for real?? for real. for real i have been diagnosed since i was like six. (funny story my teacher thought i was on the spectrum so my parents get me tested with the nodes and shit and according to mom, who loves this story, my neurologist did all that and talked to me and then just turned to my mom and went "she's not autistic. she just hates the other kids" but they DID find an adhd diagnosis in there so net win for all of us)

diagnosed since i was SIX. on stimulants until i turned 8, and you know why i got off em? my pediatrician retired. we could not find another who would take our low-income insurance. so i just had to rawdog The Rest Of My Fucking Life. diagnosed when i was six. legally neurodivergent for 20 slutty slutty angry years.

and it still took me like. a few months to get a psych appointment. a few weeks to reaffirm my diagnosis as an adult. a few more weeks for another appointment for meds. he doesnt Want to do meds first, because i must have been doing fine without them if its been two decades, right? i got a job and a car and everything. well gee fuckin shittickers Dr. Brain Guy, just WHAT was my alternative? would you prefer i be maladapted to the point of incapacitation; is that what it takes for someone to be considered? i cheated my way through school. every day after work i sit for an hour in my car because i dont have the executive function to stand up and walk the ten steps to my house. garbage just appears around me. i have three empty bags of hot chip and two cans of sprite on my desk as we speak, neither from today. at that point i hadnt had a debit card for six months because that would have required me to Drive To The Bank, a location that was new to me in this area, so i just did everything on credit. is this all normal? is this fine? am i GOOD, actually, Dr. WeirdBrain?

so we cordially agree that yes i should probably be medicated. i want to do a stimulant. he does not want to put me on a stimulant. "stimulants can mess with your heart," he says, "and you're young, you don't want heart problems." i say ok because i dont want to make him think im just looking for narcotics. even though i am. because they WORK. i agree to try some kind of antidepressant.

the antidepressant gives me tachycardia. i go to the emergency room after reading a heartbeat of, oh, 140 bpm, which is about like double what it normally is and juuuust below the You Are Having A Heart Attack threshold. i get to the ER and the doctor there is very obviously convinced i'm a local addict having some sort of episode. it is the most ironic experience i've had all year and i feel an abrupt and all consuming kinship with those birds in australia that will swoop you and peck at your face for seemingly no good reason.

so yeah, we narrow it down to the antidepressant. as it turns out, these particular meds are known to, semi-commonly, Mess With Your Heart. i have my next appointment with my psych and somehow refrain from pecking his eyes out. he puts me on a noreprinephrine inhibitor(iirc) that isnt actually FDA approved to treat ADHD specifically(i DEFINITELY rc) but it IS given to smokers to help them quit. i dont smoke. i may very well fucking start before this whole ordeal is at the point where someone listens to me

it obviously does a combined total of jack and shit, and the man waffles with this one because he has "had success" using it as treatment for other ADHD patients. he ups the dose. twice. three months on the smoker meds, which are also apparently notorious for destroying your appetite, but they didnt even do THAT. no change to the average amount of hot chip on my desk.

he wants to try quelbree after that. i finally tell him i'm tired of this shit and would like to have more than two hours of usable daylight to function before it all falls to uncontrollable youtube shorts binges and a daily experience i like to call The Weighted Nothings and i would very much like to PLEASE. TRY A STIMULANT.

he's been friendly enough with me over these past four or five or whatever months but at this he gets suddenly very very business-baseline. gives me the whole spiel about the north american shortage. gives me a spiel about how i absolutely cannot, under any circumstances, lose or sell this medication, because they will not refill it if i do. i am sitting here wondering if he he's telling the truth about having other ADHD patients at all like ever in his career, and also, am i nuts or should the "don't sell your prescription drugs" bit apply to EVERYTHING? i dont fuckin know man i just live here

he says he wants a urine test first. its scheduled for two weeks out. i take it.

"hey uh, your piss came back with cannabis in it" "well it'd be weirder if it didn't, we are in california and i am a kitchen manager" "you can't have weed if you want adderall" "fine i'll stop" "we'll schedule you another test in a month" "aight bet" it didnt go exactly like that but this is kind of what the vibe between us has devolved into by this point.

anyway i wait a month and get a good grade in piss. i get the meds prescribed. i go to fill out the prescription

all i really need to say to you are the words "prior authorization error" for most of you to get what happened next.

the psych isnt even aware. i wait another month for our next meeting, which was yesterday. i do not yell at him. he tells me to take it up with the pharmacy, and yell at them. i am going to yell at them.

so i go, and guess what, it actually went through a while ago! NO ONE TOLD ME OR DR. FEEL-BAD OVER HERE. but we can't fill it right now because its a controlled substance so come back in a few hours. hey it's ready where the hell are you? TAKE YOUR METH AND GET OUT

anyway i started it today, reorganized my pantry, and fixed the fire alarm in my hallway that's been chirping at me for a week. i no longer have to wear earplugs to bed.

and with my newfound executive function superpowers, i will be spraying my weed-free piss all over Reagan's grave.

[sofoulandfairaday]

Hcs about Sirius? Thanks

Let's see how many people come screaming in my inbox for these

Tall. Taller than James, definitely taller than Remus (ya know, like the text implies).

Tall and conventionally handsome. Not the skinny/androgynous/emo kind. I don't hate those hcs, they're just not how I picture him. He's very very conventionally handsome in quite a masculine way although I can see him not sporting a beard until after Hogwarts, maybe even after his escape from Azkaban.

You can have your makeup wearing, skirt sporting, femme Sirius but it's just not for me.

Also. Also. Also. Can I just say? Wizards wear robes. They all wear skirts.

Prefers animals to people (and animals prefer him).

Can fly a broom, and can do so very well, most likely since before he ever got to Hogwarts, but he wasn't on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He maybe played once or twice if someone was injured and James was begging him, and only exclusively against Slytherin to spite his Seeker brother. I can see him being in the Duelling Club, though.

Practice duels against the Slytherins got vicious.

An absolute prodigy in Transfiguration (he and James were Minerva's favourite students), also excels in Charms, DADA, and (what a shocker) Astronomy. He's very good in school in general though, and has very high grades. Considering how much time James must have ‘wasted’ being Quidditch Captain - time that Sirius probably spent studying in his last two years of school - he was probably the best, academically speaking, of the Marauders. He was also probably the most powerful wizard of the four.

Took Muggle Studies to annoy his family (he was mildly interested, but he wasn't passionate about the subject), and dropped it after his O.W.L.S. to better concentrate on the ‘important’ classes, especially since there was a war out there by 1978. Definitely got into a slight quarrel with Lily about this - more and more people were dropping out of Muggle Studies out of fear at this point and to her, it was about making a statement. Sirius's reply was ‘I think a curse right between the eyes is a better statement against the Death Eaters - I can only do that if I train’.

But Sirius- I've said this before, but I'm much more interested in all the ways Sirius is like his family than the ways he isn't. Definitely had to unlearn many of his biases.

Amongst which: his classism. Which he does display in the books, especially in the case of Snape.

I'm sure he would get into arguments with Remus (who was clearly hurt by some of these - which is precisely what prompted Sirius to reexamine some of his views more consciously), where Remus would say ‘But not all werewolves are like that, Sirius!’ when talking about, say, whether or not they should be allowed in certain jobs or whatever, and Sirius saying ‘well, yes, Remus but what if they do attack someone’ (Wolfsbane isn't a thing at this point in the canon).

I've said this before and I'll say it again: Remus was Sirius' exception, much like Lily's was Snape's. And this goes for many things.

Gradually, he unlearns many of his beliefs, especially when he goes back home as a teenager and sees his points of view reflected in the mouths of people like Rodolphus Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy - which disgusts him.

Sirius, in the books, has very famous lines (“The world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters...”) but he very famously does not live by that morality. He's a person, to me, with an extremely black-and-white view of the world. He can hex and curse students for fun and it's fine because he isn't using Dark Magic. On the other hand, most Slytherins suck because they are all racist evil gits who will end up as Death Eaters anyway.

He did not have Slytherin friends, that's probably one of my least favourite headcanons ever. He knew these people because he was a Black, which is why he can list them off to Harry in GoF, but he definitely did not hang out with them or like them in any way. Also, who were the Slytherins in his year and above/below anyways? Avery and Mulciber who played cruel (and maybe slightly illegal) jokes on Mary MacDonald? Evan Rosier (to me he actually wasn't, in my headcanons he's 4 years older than Bellatrix, which makes him about 13 years older than Sirius, but for the sake of argument) who was a Dark Wizard TM and blasted off half of Mad Eye's nose? Barty Voldemort Fanboy Crouch? Regulus??? Snape?????

Good at Potions, never top of the class (those were Lily and Snape)

Tactless at times, but not as much as James.

An asshole. A complete and utter arrogant toerag, and definitely more than a little immature. He was popular, like James, and I can see him having other friends outside the Marauders, but never establishing deep and meaningful relationships with them. He was definitely more unapproachable than James, much more intimidating.

(Definitely meaner jokes, too.)

James was the love of his life (platonically, but I can get behind them as a ship). He was loyal to James, first and foremost (which is also why he and Moony grew apart and suspicious of each other in the First War). Also, both of them were James' friends first. The Marauders were James' friend group.

He was definitely jealous when James first got together with Lily because she was stealing his best friend, his second, better brother. He liked Lily, but he was obsessed with James, who definitely grew up before Sirius did.

I've always headcanoned Sirius as straight/bi and Regulus as gay. But the point is more that while I can see Sirius experimenting a bit in Hogwarts (after all, he was full of girls who probably liked him) I can't really see him as either an arrogant/douchebag playboy. I also don't think he ever had a serious relationship. Ever. Especially in his Hogwarts days. If you're not worthy of his time, he won't look at you twice let alone give you a chance.

Any partner of Sirius' would have to be quite exceptional anyways (brilliant, intelligent, talented, funny - he was all of these things after all - and maybe even a bit mean). I can't see why a girl like that would put up with Sirius' arrogance.

Loved McGonagall, lowkey hated Slughorn. He was definitely invited to the Slug Club and I can see him turning down meetings. That particular brand of cunning weaselling cowardice is quite literally the opposite of what Sirius was and it drove him up the wall.

My boy Sirius never worked a day in his life, especially after Uncle Alphard left him gold.

Also: it's very likely that given his nature (he doesn't open up to strangers easily), his vaguely intimidating aura, his less-than-perfect track record in school (I know this fandom likes to ignore that he cursed students for fun, but. like. he did.), the fact that he probably didn't have a job and spent his post-Hogwarts years in secret missions for the Order, and general ruthlessness- people knew him mostly as just another Black. It wasn't that unthinkable then that he might have been seen as Voldemort's number two.

(This enrages Bellatrix by the way lol)

And speaking of Bella. Sirius likes to go around saying Andromeda was his favourite cousin. Nu-uh. He wishes that was truly the case. These two have history, and I find it hilarious that what they hate in the other is precisely what they love in themselves (their respective loyalties).

Saw each other/could hear each other in Azkaban. Bellatrix's taunts of ‘See? We were right. You betrayed our family for these traitors and this is how they repaid you’ made the whole stay that much worse.

More likely than not had promised each other that they would be the ones to kill the other.

Bellatrix didn't mean to kill him though, I am convinced of this. In the books, she hits him with a Stunner and probably yells because she won the duel. Then, it's only after it's sunk in (after her run from the DoM to the Atrium) and when Voldemort is getting closer that she taunts Harry about it.

Personal headcanon: the last time Sirius saw his cousins was at Narcissa's wedding (nice parallel, because I believe that the last event Andromeda ever attended was Bellatrix's wedding). Now, it happened around his 5th/6th year and guess who was also there? Yup. Snivellus (as Lucius' guest). The two almost got into a brawl. Bellatrix was not happy with them almost spoiling Cissy's big day.

Once tried to beat up Rodolphus during a skirmish in which they had both lost their wands, in the First War. It did not go well for him.

I'll stop this now, but I def have more. Don't even get me started on Walburga and Orion and how this fandom does not understand abuse at all.

[themadlu]

Do Not Open That Door

Astarion is sure his leader's unflinching morals will lead him to another unwanted grave. He is also sure she is putting on an act because people like her do not exist, clearly. He decides to test his assumptions.

TW: None I think

WC: ~3000 words

Tagging: @spacebarbarianweird for the encouragement!

Astarion is livid. Well, maybe livid was an overstatement—he is annoyed. Annoyed and confused. Such feelings are still a vast improvement over the fear and shame he's been accustomed to, but they make him restless nonetheless. 

Especially because their cause is walking steadily next to him without a care in the world for his inner turmoil. 

Zélie, their oh so great leader, has managed to spoil what could have been a perfectly enjoyable afternoon on multiple fronts. First, she decides to talk to the goblins ambushing them instead of treating them like the savages they are.

(“We don’t know how many of them are in this village Astarion. What if there’s a little army and we’re outnumbered?”)

After confirmation that there were, in fact, quite a few goblins (and a couple orcs to boot), she managed to get free passage through the village by leveraging their wriggly alien parasite. He isn’t happy about it. Not at all. 

He has to begrudgingly admit hers was a wise call after witnessing just how large and hungry those orcs were. And of course they even agree to help a fellow true soul in need. Just what he needs to undermine what little influence he has on her.

(Her blood is in his body after all.)

In the last tendays she had made it her mission to remind him how despicable murder is, under most circumstances, aside from self-defence. This beautifully idiotic mindset of hers almost got her killed twice in front of his very eyes.

(She doesn’t know he has taken to finish off the enemies she leaves unconscious while she isn’t watching.)

When he had pointed out the suicidal flaw in her morals, she had given him her signature scolding look, crossed her arms, and started breathing in that funny way of hers. 

In, hold, out. 

(She says she is not trained as a monk, but he’ll be even more damned than he already is if that is true. The way she fights and holds herself—and those sickening ideals she has—tell a different story.) 

“Honestly, darling,” he hisses at her as they walk through the village, squinty eyes trained on their every move. “I thought we agreed that benevolence and honour,” he spits the words out like a curse, “get you nowhere but to an early grave.”

“Astarion,” she always says his name when she speaks to him—even in annoyance— and he hates his constant surprise at hearing it. His elven name had been replaced with other titles over time, more befitting of his status—boy, spawn, whore, slut, beautiful, toy, love…

Truly, it’s a small miracle he managed to hold on to his name. It’s one of the few things left that are truly his, yet hearing it spoken from that solemn woman's lips makes something in his chest preen. 

“I thought we agreed to disagree on that front. No, don’t give me that look. Killing someone is never justifiable. No matter what we tell ourselves, we are taking away something that wasn’t ours to begin with. Something irreplaceable. Even—” she held up her hand as he started to complain, “in self-defence, even then, I will make sure to exhaust all alternatives, and even then, it will be a failure on my part.”

You moron. 

“Too bad the rest of the world doesn’t think like you, darling,” he snapped. Hers was an act. There was no way in the hells anyone could survive to their…whatever age she was, he was never good with human lifespans, with that mindset. It was ridiculous, because if she actually was like that—if two–hundred years of shit didn’t teach him better—she should either be dead in a ditch or have ascended to godhood on her saintly behaviour alone. The only explanation he has for her standing close to him is that the mask she wears is as fake as his own. That, or she is a child of Ilmater. He bets on the former, given her complete ignorance of any deity on Toril.

“But you lied,” he counters, snapping his fingers. “You said we are here on Absolute business. Doesn’t that go against your precious code of honour?” he singsongs in her ear. 

“I didn’t lie. My tadpole reacted to theirs, and they drew their own conclusions. Technically, we are going to their camp on Absolute business too, if you count removing these,” she tapped her index to her temple. 

He smirks, victorious. “Circumstantial. One day, the tadpole won’t do the work for us and you’ll break your own code or doom us to death. For one, I’d rather not repeat the experience,” he says in a quiet voice, pointing at his chest. 

Their companions are still unaware of his condition—another occasion his holy leader conveniently withheld information. 

(“It’s your secret, it’s your decision.” Hypocrite.)

“Astarion, I know you take me for a fool, and I would normally pay more respect to a man—elf—my senior by centuries, but really. I can be practical and have a moral compass, and that means that when the choice is between lying and killing, I will pick lying any day, even if I don’t like it.” 

Enough. 

Her words incense him, annoyance suddenly turns into rage and something else—what’s that, envy?—he pivots on his left heel and closes the distance between them so fast she has no time to react. Zélie is left pinned to the wall, their bodies a breath away from touching, and he internally celebrates the surprised look on her face. 

He stares at her down his nose, ducking his head and planting a slender hand on the wall beside her head. 

Astarion has to make her stop before he tears her self-righteousness out of her throat. Before she realises how useless it all is—how useless and tainted he is—and either stakes him or banishes him. Because even her sickly, do-gooding self, fake or real it be, must have limits. If he pushes hard enough, they’ll crumble, and then he’ll be proven right. She is not what she says she is because creatures like that aren’t real.  

“Let’s make one thing clear, darling,” he growls, nostrils flaring, “you may be our great leader, but you should get off your high horse before someone shoots you off it. I don’t know what perfect little corner of the universe you grew up in, but you know nothing of this world and its dangers.” 

He flashes his fangs at her to drive his point across. The others are out of sight, looking for supplies in some ruin or cellar. Gods, he misses the city. 

Zélie is staring back at him, bristling, but lets him continue. She never interrupts any of them, not even him.

“I thought humans were all about developing and living fast, but you, my dear, are as ignorant as a babe. I am trying to make sure we keep our collective hides safe and do not get sidetracked by other pitiful creatures on our path.” 

He realises just how close he is to her when she straightens up again and their noses almost touch. 

Pale eyes go darker with a flash of anger. 

There. Come at me. Prove me right. 

“Spoken like a true man of the law, lord magistrate.” 

Why the hells is her tone so collected when she has a literal vampire at her throat?!

“You seem forgetful, so I’ll remind you that it was my ignorance that stopped Shadowheart from connecting her mace with your head. And it was my stupidity that convinced her you could join us, and that we should give you a chance at trust.” 

She makes no move to get closer, but he recoils as if scorched by fire. 

“And it is the same trust I placed in you yesterday when I let you bite me, even though it’s not how I envisioned a night of rest to go. I trusted you to stop, I trusted you to keep your word and not leave me a corpse.”

There it is. Reminding him of what he owes her. Of his debts. They say the quiet ones are the most depraved, and she is the strong and silent type. But he is nothing if not an expert in the art of subservience at this point, and if it gets her to keep giving him blood and protection—

“I trust you.” 

Then you’re doomed.

She says it as if it were a challenge. Her gaze is unwavering and he is left speechless yet again. Cazador would admire this quality of hers.

“I hope you can trust me in return.”

Impossible woman. 

“Well, I suppose you’re not wholly incompetent,” he manages to croak out. His nonchalant mask is harder to slip on this time. 

She huffs a breath of a laugh, a tiny thing, but it’s enough to transform her whole face. The weight she carries on her deceivingly flimsy shoulders seems to lift, leaving behind a young woman smiling softly at a…well, a monster. Talk about inexperience. 

Happiness suits you, little leader. 

The fact it’s his prattling that caused this marvel of a transformation stokes something in chest and in the pit of his stomach that he promptly pushes down. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Zélie says. She moves away and he is left staring at the crusty wall. Her body never touched his own during their exchange. 

Wait. That’s wrong. He was meant to make her see the reason in his ways, not the other way around. So why is he at her heels like a lost puppy the minute she walks away? 

(“You are nothing by yourself boy. You owe everything to me.”)

He is weak. So weak he has leashed himself to a human who can barely read common, fuck's sake. 

His temper rises again once he catches up with Zélie. He doesn’t need her condescension, nor her chiding (she doesn’t even know his full story yet, nor she ever will unless absolutely necessary, so pity isn’t there yet). He’ll show the wretched woman how wrong she is. 

Karlach and Lae’zel jog behind them as they reach a barn with a door locked shut. Zélie thinks nothing of it at first, but Astarion can smell what’s inside.

(His senses born anew from her blood.)

He smells the ogre and bugbear and their horrid affair before the rest of his companions hear the grunts and noises.

“Oh God, someone’s fighting!” exclaims Zélie.

Fighting, you say?

An idea strikes him. 

See what your misplaced goodness gets you when you try to help an ogre.

“I don’t know soldier, they don’t sound like fight noises to me,” says Karlach leaning towards the barn, but even she seems unsure. Astarion’s talents may be limited to a specific area, but in this case it works in his favour. He is very familiar with what those sounds mean. The half-ogres that fucked him into the bed so hard he bled were not so different.

(He still remembers how much it hurt, how he was left in a puddle of mixed releases, sweat, and what little blood he had).

“Well, even if they are fighting, it is clearly not our problem. I say we leave them to it and focus on what’s really important,” he says, using his annoyance as a hook. Zélie may be the most restrained person he’s come across, but he knows how to read people, and he knows she will do the opposite of whatever he says when it concerns morals. 

She falls for it. His smile is harder to suppress.

“Astarion! We’ve just talked about this!” 

Her voice raises a bit, but it’s almost eclipsed by another loud grunt from inside the barn. 

“So long as my blade can be sharpened on my enemies’ bones, I am ready.” Lae’zel is almost as ignorant as Zélie when it comes to their world, which is usually a hindrance, but now it’s the push their little leader needs to run to the rescue. 

Zélie tries to open the barn door (after cutting another withering look at the vampire lazily strolling at her back), finding it jammed.

The crescendo of grunts and bangs coming from inside is extremely loud now. 

Gods, they must be disgusting. 

“Hello?! Help is on the way, hang on!” the little human shouts as she frantically tries to get the door unstuck. 

“Oh hells, let me do it, darling, before we turn into tentacled freaks,” Astarion says in mock-annoyance. She eyes him suspiciously and he shoots her a winning smile. His nimble hands make quick work of the lock, and he pushes the door open. 

He needs just a peek to know his assumption about what was happening in the barn is correct, and turns to face his now horror-stricken companion. 

“Gods, they are disgusting,” he comments with his lips crooked in a satisfied smile. 

Zélie scrambles to compose herself and turns her back from the scene (the prudish) as she fails to find words to explain herself. “I—I am, I apologise, we thought—”

Oh, she’s in a state. Her cheeks flush redder than rubies (he can practically hear her delicious blood pooling there), whilst the rest of her is paler than after Astarion’s feeding. She opens and shuts her eyes as if trying to physically erase what she just witnessed.

The bugbear slides his now soft cock out of the ogre, and looks at them in rage.

“W–what the hells are you doing?!”

Oh, Astarion is thrilled. He doesn’t remember when last had such fun. He hears Lae’zel’s tsk’ and Karlach’s gags behind him, and he closely watches Zélie fumbling as he didn’t think was possible. 

“Apologies! I, you—you were making a lot of noise and I, we, thought you needed help,” she holds her hands in front of her in a peace offering. “I apologise for the intrusion! We’ll leave now—”

“Ruined! SMASH. I’ll smash you!” 

Oh. Astarion didn’t expect that. He just wanted to show Zélie how ungrateful the world is to idiots like her, not have her turn into orc food. 

Before he can think, he is tackling the woman to the ground, the orc’s club crashing a few spaces to his left. Karlach and Lae’zel’s throw themselves at the aggressor, and the fight starts in earnest. Astarion is more a stalker than a fighter, but he had his first fill of human blood only hours before, and his senses have never been that sharp, so he doesn’t miss the bugbear rushing towards their prone form. 

Daggers at hand, he braces to parry the onslaught (this may hurt) when his worldview shifts, his back in on the ground, and chilly afternoon air replaces the heat of his leader on his chest. 

What just happened?

He turns his head to see the bugbear crashing to the ground, Zélie crouched on one leg and tripping him with her other. “Go help the others! I’ve got this!” she shouts, as she wraps her limbs around the assailant in a tight bind. “Wait! It was an honest mistake—”

He doesn’t want to hear her voice now. Doesn’t want to think how the little moron literally threw him away from danger. Even worse, he will refute the idea he protected her from an angry orc till his last breath. He only got his body back recently. That’s it. He still is unsure of how to use it. 

And she's dinner.

He doesn’t want to dwell on what happened, so he nods and throws himself at the female orc while she is distracted by his companions. 

The fight doesn’t last too long after that, and something takes a hold of his insides when he looks at Zélie. She is silent, staring at the large corpse on the ground, bugbear knocked out at her feet. 

“Darling?” He moves towards her and the sadness in her eyes almost makes him apologise. Gods, what has he done? He didn’t think this was going to happen. And why does he care?! This was his intent, this and seeing the real her behind the strong, polite facade. 

“I just wanted to help.”

“I know, darling. I—”

See now, how impossible it is to keep your ideals in this world?

“You knew,” she says, and while he words his excuses (the only real one being he didn’t think they were going to be attacked) her shoulders drop and a defeated huff leaves her mouth. A far cry from her happy smile earlier. 

Astarion can’t wrap his head around how he caused both reactions in such a short span of time. But this look on her, this, he knows. He has seen far worse in the eyes and screams of those fools he lured back to his master, once they had his way with him and realised a bit too late they were as trapped as he was. 

He expects her to shout, to berate him, kick him, punch him, stab him, banish him—but none of that comes. Zélie studies him intently, and something in her demeanour lights up, an internal judgement made.

“I still trust you.” 

No. No no no, he’s not going to let her fool him into believing this—no!

Her face is suddenly level with Astarion’s knees, the now-awake bugbear readying a strike. 

Astarion doesn’t need to think—he falls forward and sinks his dagger into the wretch’s neck. Blood spurts out, but after tasting Zélie’s Astarion has no interest in it; mud compared to a clear sky.

“Soldier!” shouts Karlach, ever the helpful friend. Zélie pants as the dead attacker slides off of her, eye to eye with Astarion again. He can feel her light breath on his face. Karlach pulls her up; he is cleaning his dagger on the bugbear’s clothes when an outstretched hand enters his vision. Hers.

“Come on,” she says, tired but steady again. “Let’s get back to camp.”

Astarion flinches from the hand as if it were a trap (it is always a trap), but Zélie is new territory for him, that much he begrudgingly accepts. She is apparently above the rules of their miserable world because she chooses to trust him, a vampire, a lying one, again. 

He takes her hand, bracing for what may come his way, but she just helps him up. 

“Thank you, by the way. For saving my life before.”

It’s a trick. It’s a trick. Don’t fall for—

She wraps her hand around his so delicately he thinks he may break, and shakes it. His thoughts and words are silenced yet again. 

“Thank you.” 

Fuck. 

[antimony-medusa]

HEY MCYTBLR HAVE YOU HEARD OF YULETIDE?

What's this? I have come once again to your dash to tell you about an exchange? Absolutely I have. And let me tell you, this one is a doozy.

Yuletide is The Big Multifandom Exchange. It is the king of exchanges. It happens every year, and the works reveal on December 25th, and de-anon on the 1st of January. Last year over 1,800 people took part in the exchange. A lot of people only do Yuletide from the roster of exchanges. It is literally so big that it's the reason we have the Ao3 matching algorithm, because the Ao3 algorithm was built to handle Yuletide, because you have to algorithm match that one, it is simply unfeasible to hand-match an exchange of this magnitude.

What makes Yuletide special is that it is an exchange for rare and tiny fandoms— specifically, fandoms with less than 1000 fics on the archive. So all these niche book fandoms that get 10 fics posted in them a year— these people sign up for Yuletide, and they get matched. And people sign up with SUCH small fandoms.

Commercials.

Tumblr posts.

Art.

Songs.

Reddit Posts.

TikTok skits.

Web comics.

Twitter threads.

Books published 30 years ago.

Anthropomorphic concepts.

Niche tv shows.

Video games.

You can look at the tag list last year to get an idea of the sort of fandoms that show up in it. I did it last year, and I signed up with two book fandoms, SMPEarth, anthropomorphic apple products, and the "humans are space orcs" tumblr post as my fandoms.

Wait, SMPearth? And yes, we have come to the point of why I am specifically talking to MCYTblr. I do the MCYT on Ao3 stats dive every month, so I happen to know that there are 35 canonized MCYT tags that are eligable, as they have less than 1000 fics.

Pirates SMP is eligable.

Ivorycello Prison Escapes is eligable.

Karmaland is eligable.

Rats SMP is eligable.

Witchcraft SMP is eligible.

New Life SMP is eligable.

SMPLive is eligable.

Mianite is eligable.

The list goes on.

So. Do you want to do Yuletide 2023 with me?

Please Please Please Please Please. It's just a 1k minimum and they give you six weeks to work on it. You don't even nead a canonical tag to nominate, you can nominated non-canon fandoms! Please Please Please so funnnnnnn.

They are in tag nominations now, so until 28 September, at 9am UTC, you can nominate the tags you want to match on. I just nominated SMPEarth Emduo and Worldbuilding. It's a fun time. Join Meeeee.

IMPORTANT TECHNICAL NOTES:

Yuletide is a BIG EXCHANGE and everyone there is very professional, but that also means that they have very specific rules for how things should be run. I would say read the rules, maybe twice, before you submit anything. If you have any questions, message me and I will do my best to answer them.

Yuletide blog here.

Yuletide collection here.

Nomination rules here.

(Especially take note of the stuff about disambiguation, and use mcyt best practice of using gamertag and not tax filing name, none of the | pipes and multiple names in there.)

Eligability rules here.

Nominate on the Tag Set here.

If there is something about your fandom that makes you think they might not accept it, you can explain your arguments here.

Note that people who have had over 1000 fics written about them in RPF are not eligable to be nominated in a RPF fandom, so depending on your guy, you may need to pop a message on that post to explain that Afterlife SMP is not actually Video Blogging RPF for example, and Smajor1995 (Afterlife SMP) is not the same as Smajor1995 (Empires SMP).

Go forth! Participate in a great exchange!

[kimoralov3]

dating ethan landry would include

a/n: yeah yeah i'm simping for another white man what's new. again completely self indulgent because i really wanna see scream vi again

warnings: scream vi spoilers, swearing

lemme just go ahead and say that this takes place in an alternate universe where he is not ghostface because i'm a delusional bitch 😁

so obviously the two of you both go to blackmore

and y'all met because you were friends with the woodsboro gang and he's chad's roomate

but even tho the two of you were always around each other due to your friends, you never really talked

i'm not saying that ethan is shy or anything he's maybe just a bit more cautious??? like he wants to see your personality before he tries talking to you

he also thinks you're really hot and doesn't wanna make a fucking fool of himself

y'all also have a class together

and your teacher likes to switch up the seating chart every unit and this time he puts the two of you right next to each other

which is perfect!! because now he has a chance to talk you without being interrupted by chad or mindy

naturally with the two of you sitting next to each other you're talking more often

and y'know maybe you missed a day of class for some reason

so ethan took it upon himself to take the notes twice so you'd have your own physical copy

he 100% has a full-blown crush on you at this point but he's too shy to say anything

he also feels like the two of you don't know each other that well and thinks it would be weird if he were to just spring his feelings on you

he tried to (discreetly) ask chad what he should do about his feelings

this did not go so well

"so this person that you like is y/n? dude just ask them out"

and yeah part of ethan knows that he's being ridiculous and that he should just suck it up and ask you on a date

but there's a bigger. louder part of him telling him that he should wait it out a little bit longer

in the meantime he's let chad talk him into going to some halloween frat party

he honestly didn't want to go but then mindy told him that you were coming and he thought

"perfect!! tonight's the night"

except he's never asked anyone out before so he needs a little courage

chad spends half the night talking ethan up to go talk to you queue the clip of chad calling ethan a snack

honestly by this time you knew what ethan was trying to do, and you were gonna save him the trouble and confess to him first but

he just looked so adorable trying not to stare at you all night

unfortunately neither of you gets to make a move because of the whole thing with tara

but he is determined to confess before the night is over

he ends up walking you to your dorm

and he's talking like the whole time

about any and everything

and he's just so cute when he's rambling so you just can't help yourself when you top him in his tracks and kiss him

when you pull away he is literally frozen in his place

he was not expecting you to do that so he just like stares at you

finally snaps out of it when you move away from him slightly

his confession comes out really rushed and is honestly not coherent but you knew what he was gonna say

let's just say before he left the two of you had more than a fair share to do on your first date

and now for the actual boyf stuff

simply put ethan is like the best boyfriend ever

he carries your bags and stuff for you

buys you snacks every time you visit his dorm

you practically live in his hoodies and shirts

the best cuddle buddy

like just imagine laying there watching a movie with him and running your hand through his curls

literally the best fucking thing ever

ugh speaking of his curls

he loves when you play with them, it's literally the fastest way to get him to calm down

[itsnothingofinterest]

So here’s a thought: in the latest chapter; Kudo’s transfer causes Deku and Tomura to relive and mix memories of first meetings with/opening up to future friends. Considering how Kudo was the one who met with and reached out to Yoichi; do you suppose it’s possible we could see the rest of the transfers bring forth memories thematically relevant to the sacrificed OFA user? And if so, can we guess what these memories could be?

Hmm, it might be tough given how most of the OFA vestiges are...not the most fleshed out characters MHA's ever produced, but I’d like to take a crack at it.

~En: memories of Danger & survival We’ll be going in the order I roughly think Deku will shoot the vestiges over, even if that means starting with some especially basic ones. (I'll also be avoiding memories they were both there for since they'd be uninteresting.) For the case of En, the most fearful of the group; that'll be a simple set of times these two were each in danger.

For Deku; that could mean facing Machia or Redestro, although I'd also love him to see some visions of heroes like Endeavor or Star & Stripe coming for his life as well. If he wants Tomura's perspective, he should get his perspective on heroes trying to kill him. And there's quite a few to pick for Tomura to see from Deku; the Zero-Point robot, Muscular, Muscular again, Lady Nagant, ...maybe Gentle?

~Bruce: memories of loss & what comes after To keep things simple still, both of these are two moments (+ surrounding context) they each saw an ally die to a villain. The same villain: Overhaul.

Deku would get to see Overhaul kill Magne right in front of the League. Tomura would see him kill Sir Nighteye in front of his interns. Then as I theorized previously, we could get too see one or both of them experience the blended memory of beating fused Overhaul into the ground and taking his arms for great justice & greater revenge.

~Nana: memories of family & allies (Also, since the effect should be pretty strong by now, and also because it's interesting, let's suppose they may start actually experiencing memories now instead of just playing them in the background.)

For Deku; Perfect as it may seem, it's a bit early to see the Shimuras, so this might instead mean seeing some lower stakes memories with the League. Maybe their training with Machia, maybe some early recruitment moments if that doesn't step on Kudo's thematically relevant memories. Really just check out @codenamesazanka's post here for some great ideas; with special mention going to Tomura sympathizing with Bakugou because he was chained up at the sports festival. I'd love for Deku to see Tomura directing his humanity to League members like Twice, but humanity directed towards Bakugou would be a great foot in Deku's door. (Which of course means the best thing for Deku to see each such kinds of Tomura's humanity, for Deku to compare.)

For Tomura; Oh there's a plethora of choices for Class 1A hangout moments he could see. Although to be honest...I've not been the most invested in these moments, so I can't say which'd be most impactful for Tomura to see. I'm a villain fan, what can you expect?Although if I had to guess, knowing this series and whose memories we're talking about, it'll be something focused on Bakugou. Call it a hunch.

(Though it'd be nice if we did get to see Inko again instead. And I'd laugh if this was how we got to see Deku's dad at long last.)

~Banjo: memories of…okay kind of struggling here since there’s not much to Banjo. Honestly think he might get stolen instead since his quirk's such a lifeline & Tomura could probably steel more than one quirk by the end of this. But if he does get launched; maybe he could cause…memories of friendship? Or of high emotions?

For Deku; that might mean seeing memories of the League working together, maybe in Daika. Or speaking of Daika, maybe it could be Shigaraki’s city destroying awakening. Or maybe the time the League got ambushed & restrained in their bar and Tomura yelled at All Might just how much he hates him.

For Tomura; there are also quite a few of Deku’s memories that could qualify here. Maybe the fight with Muscular, maybe his 2nd fight with Bakugou, or maybe it could fittingly be the time Uraraka and Shinsou saved him from Banjo’s own quirk.

~All Might/Toshinori: memories of (not) being rescued.

For Deku; I think this would go as I described in this post: a mixed memory of him rescuing Bakugou from the sludge villain combined with Tenko wandering the street; resulting in desperately trying to pull Bakugou out from the sludge for hours or days while people pass him in the street, until he finally drags sludge!Bakugou to the bridge to encounter AFO. If he wants Tomura's perspective and see what drove him to villainy, this one's a big part of that.

For Shigaraki, this would be a far simpler memory; but an impactful one too I think. The meeting with All Might where Deku was told he can be a hero. How Tomura would respond to those words, I can’t be sure. Maybe it’d be as meaningful to him as it was to Deku. Perhaps he’ll dismiss the words as just an old dream he doesn’t care for any more, or acknowledge their meaninglessness coming from someone else’s memory. Or if I’m so lucky; maybe he’ll even think back on all the members of the League & other criminals looking to him to make the world they feel safe in and say to All Might “what do you think I’ve been doing?” (Probably not but I think it’d be cool. A guy can hope.)

~Yoichi: memories of their origin.

For Deku; this would obviously be seeing the crying Tenko crying outside of his house because he was abused by his family. Maybe also the events earlier in that day seen in ch.235 too. This would lead to Deku attempting the thing quite a few readers see as the natural conclusion to this memory sharing; Deku reaching a hand out to save the crying child…and it won’t work. I mean duh; this is a memory. He can’t talk to or do anything for the past version of Tenko; all he can do is learn, all he can do is watch the deaths of the Shimuras transpire and hope he gets something out of it that’s worth losing all of OFA.

Although, if I may propose one interesting twist in this: I’ve been theorizing for a while now that AFO could’ve taken the Shimura family’s quirks and hidden them & their vestiges in Tomura. This wouldn’t be my favourite way to bring that up (I’d rather they first meet with Tomura instead); but suppose that allows Deku to talk to the Shimuras as he lives through Tenko’s last day with his family? Could at least be neat.

And for Tomura; I can’t think of a more appropriate Origin-y chapter than chapter 1 page 1: Izuku getting bullied by Bakugou. Maybe they’ll also both be in the same place (we did suppose Deku would meet the crying child above after all), and Tenko could take the place of the kid young Izuku was protecting. I could see Tomura being quite moved by the image…before scoffing. Deku, his self-claimed ‘hero’ who’s been getting in his way and attacking his mind this whole time? Protecting him? And from Bakugou of all people, or anyone else Deku saw as a hero? Lol. Lmao even! Maybe if it was AFO; afraid Bakugou prevented something so convenient from happening though. But as far as Tomura's seen; Deku will save him from anyone & anything except the heroes who mean him harm. A bit like his mom & grandparents with Kotaro. But then maybe he could see Bakugou actually attack Deku, like really beating him up, and it could cause him to wonder…why? Why would Deku then forgive him? Rescue him? Work along side someone who’d treat him like that?

I don’t think any basic-arse heroic symbolism that hasn’t even reflected Tomura’s reality so far would really change his viewpoints or anything. But that question might nudge them. Might introduce the idea that the worst, most powerful people with no big incentive to change, can do so anyway. So maybe, just maybe, Tomura doesn't need to kill them and wash their influence clear as the only way forward for his villainous ilk.

[elvensorceress]

So there is a "leaked" script that claims Eddie asked Marisol to move in, and is it just me, or is that completely out of character for Eddie? He dated Ana for longer, and they weren't living together. we are really supposed to believe that he would ask Marisol to move in after a few months of dating? Unless Eddie is unable to process anything after learning his Buck. Is dating a man that is not him, and instead of breaking up with her like he planned, he pulls a Buck and asks her to move in with him.

Eddie does not deserve to be stuck with someone like Marisol.

According to 7x04, he apparently needs a live-in babysitter so he can go out with his shiny new boyfriend. So… 🤣  And it took a whole relationship and a blackout before Ana was his babysitter! Just from that much I’m still going, yikes. Like, girl, do you not have friends? Do you not have someone who will tell you this relationship is red flags all over the place? Can we not call up your Folger brother and have him talk some sense into you? 

You’re very right though. Eddie deserves so much better. 

I have heard about the supposed leaked scripts and I’ll talk some about that under a cut below in case anyone wants to read my thoughts on it. 

But what I’ll say in general is that in some of the interviews we’ve been seeing recently especially with canon bi!Buck, Mr. Showrunner had scathing things to say about love interests who are just there to be love interests. He didn’t like that they couldn’t interact with any of the other characters and that they weren’t part of the overall story. 

Given we’ve had what, two? offhand comments and maybe five whole seconds of screen time this season with her, if they wanted to actually develop that relationship for the audience, they could have done that. And should have done that a long, long time ago. (For example, see Eddie and Tommy’s relationship. In one whole episode they did more to build that up than they have done for Eddie/allegedgirlfriendconfirmedterf in all of season 6 or 7.)

Instead, they showcased the bond between Buck and the Diazes and the trauma that Eddie and Chris still have over Shannon leaving and them losing her. And also Eddie’s new friendship with Tommy that sounded like they were both spending every day, every moment together. 

So far for Miss Homophobe, we have—

hey mari it me eddie from the hardware store

the phone call where they set up a date

it's not MY date it's CHRIS' date (r u sure, dude? why is she there then 🤣)

her chaperoning Chris’ date with Eddie

her babysitting twice off screen

Obviously, she’s in the next episode and they have a pizza date while Eddie has to stare at his bestest friends while they’re on a date. But at this point, if you want the audience to root for the relationship or enjoy it at the very least, it’s a little late in the game for that? We have nothing to go on and it doesn’t make sense if we’re taking it at face value. 

All this to say, if he does ask her to move in with him, there is no way for the audience to buy that it’s genuine, reasonable, or a smart move. It reads like Buck asking Taylor to move in with him because he cheated and he’s desperate and clinging. Even if Eddie and the terf show up and are all happy and handsy and lovey, it’s not convincing. There’s been no development. It would come across like Buck and Ali apartment hunting and being touchy and giggly, and then her dumping him at the end of the episode. It sets up a contrast between what we think is happening and what is really happening. Perceived happiness vs the reality of not knowing each other and their relationship crumbling.

I don’t remember who said it or when it was said, maybe it was Kristen? But I know someone talked about how Eddie rushed things with Ana and they were wanting to do the opposite when continuing his story. Dating someone for (how long has it even been? 2-3 months? Idek? Does Eddie even know?) Mere months and asking them to move in reeks of, “something is going wrong and I have to fix it by doing something rash and ill-advised to keep us together.” 

Remind me to do a post about Eddie also being someone who clings and stays because it’s convenient and he doesn’t want to be alone. 

It would be completely out of character if it is a sincere, legit thing. However, as a panic response? I buy it. But that also doesn’t bode well for their future. Darn. Hold on, I’ll get the champagne. That relationship is just waiting to be bones. And in an episode called, “You Don’t Know Me,” is where they’re putting their relationship under a microscope? Hildy, cue up the ominous music. 

I doubt the glorious day we are free of her will be this week. I think they are just starting whatever they have planned. Unfortunately. I would hope they kept her around and brought her back for a reason like what they did with Eddie/Ana. I want there to be something satisfying about the end and the fact that we have to suffer through this. It just needs to happen quickly because I am so over homophobic terfs who know what fucking show they’re on and what the story is and still persist in their assholish bigotry.  

Now? My thoughts on the leaks?

IF we are to believe they are legit, and who knows if they are. But if we are saying they are legit, then Buck comes out to Eddie at the very end and Eddie is surprised. So, Eddie likely wouldn’t be jealous or weird about Buck and Tommy dating if he didn’t even know they are dating. Plus, they just had a whole episode dedicated to jealous!Buck and it would be redundant to immediately take that into, now EDDIE is the JEALOUS ONE. I think they’d have to take the story further for Eddie to really consider how he feels about Buck and Tommy dating. 

Maybe it will come down to him being displeased by it (for some unknown reason he just can't put his finger on) and grappling with how he genuinely likes Tommy a lot and that’s a new thing for him and one of Buck’s love interests? But it wouldn’t happen this week. In theory, this week is about Buck feeling like he’s hiding because he just realized he’s bi and hasn’t told anyone yet. Hence, more of the “you don’t know me.” 

Obviously, I am rooting for Buddie. All the way. All the time. I like Buck/Tommy just fine but they’re not BuckandEddie. But I think it will take a while before we see anything that might really develop the Buck & Eddie storyline. They’re working on Buck’s bisexual awakening and his first time dating a man. WHERE OH WHERE ARE MY EDDIE STORYLINES.  I just want them to do some justice for my boy. Give him something interesting! And for the terf to gtf away from him. :D

And apologies, I rambled a lot at you. Love and hugs!

[myosotisa]

reckless driving - e.m.

Eddie Munson x Reader

‖ summary: You're Eddie's first relationship and he falls fast. Faster than you are ready for. You tell yourself it'll work out until it almost kills you both.

‖  tags: angst, break up fic, new and unhealthy relationship, no y/n, gender neutral reader, no pronouns used, nicknames are doll and baby. based on reckless driving by Lizzy McAlpine, Ben Kessler. tw: unsafe driving/close call car accident

‖ word count: 2k

“Eddie, I have to talk to you about something.”

No good conversation has ever started off that way. But it’s really like that for a reason.

You’ve been rehearsing it in your head all day, all week. The ‘I think we should take a break’ talk. The one you know he’s never had and won’t really understand.

Especially not with how things are going right now.

At first, Eddie’s reckless behavior was something you loved about him. He was so unapologetic about everything he did – so steadfast in his beliefs and his decisions. Stubborn, maybe, but he was so sure of himself. At least, he appeared to be from an outside perspective. He was fun and spontaneous and you thought that was what you needed. Plus he also made you feel safe, in a way. He was very ride or die with the people he cared about. Once you were in, you were in, and the idea of that was so thrilling.

As you got closer to him, you noticed more. His imagination had no rival, his brain was constantly on the move. It made sense that he struggled so much in school – the dude could barely sit in one spot for more than a few minutes. There were always things that needed to be done, songs to be written, campaigns to be planned, and everything else that mattered more than his responsibilities. He was a dreamer that lived in the clouds. As a person with a heavy anchor to the earth, it was a marvel to sometimes end up in the sky with him.

Eddie Munson made everything seem lighter. Made everything more fun.

Looking back on it, you always really liked the idea of Eddie Munson. The reality wasn’t quite what you thought it would be.

On your third time hanging out with him, just the two of you, you took your chance. It had been a night of jokes and laughs and smiles that made your cheeks hurt. He looked at you like you hung the moon and the stars in the night sky above your heads and you grabbed his collar and yanked his mouth to yours before you could think about it twice.

He made you feel brave that way.

After an awkward and less than ideal kiss, you pulled away to a shell shocked Eddie. It turned out he had no idea you were crushing on him, thought you both were just hanging out as friends. He never thought someone like you would be interested in him. That, right there, had been his first ever kiss.

With this new information and a sickly sweet smile, you asked him if he wanted to have his second ever kiss. He basically fell on top of you in his excitement.

After that point, you’d describe the rest of your time together as ‘dating.’ Although, that was only 6 weeks ago. Things with Eddie had progressed… Quickly, to say the least.

At first, it was endearing. He was just so excited to have feelings reciprocated with someone that he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. He called you his partner, his love, his future. You’d thought he was making fun, being cute. Really leaning in on that puppy love from a new relationship.

A week and a half into your brand new relationship, he explained how excited he was to navigate holidays with your family, that he had never met (and it was May), and asked if you’d thought about moving in together. He was dead serious. You’d laughed at first, accidentally hurting his feelings, and you rushed to recover without really knowing what to make of it. Of course, you weren’t against the idea of those things in theory, but it was all just happening so fast.

The first time you tried to explain that you weren’t really thinking that far ahead, wanting to think about the time spent with him now, he’d gotten upset. More upset than you anticipated. It felt like you were ruining something that was fun and exciting for him – he was all in and ready to go all the way, no matter how little you actually knew each other, and you felt like you were trying to play catchup in a race you weren’t sure you were ready to run.

You’d comforted him, told him you were just overwhelmed. He’d apologized for overreacting, explaining he was scared to lose you when he had only just gotten to be with you.

That explanation fed you over the next few weeks. This was all so new to him, is what you told yourself. He spent way too much money on a spontaneous gift for you because he wanted to impress you, even though he was barely making enough to cover his expenses. He skipped work to surprise you during lunch because he thought it would be romantic, even though he got in a lot of trouble for it and could’ve lost his job. He would randomly show up at your house unannounced – wanted to occupy all of your time, invited himself along on everything you tried to do without him, and seemed anxious whenever you tried to tell him you were busy or wanted some time alone.

He was just so excited to be with you, you told yourself. He didn’t know that it was hurting you because you couldn’t talk to him about it without upsetting him. No matter how gently you tried to broach the subject, it always became the end of the world to him.

It seemed you couldn’t do anything for yourself lately without upsetting him.

The excuses were enough to keep pushing through until earlier this week.

The trees rushed past on the two lane road south of town where the streetlights were few and far between. The stars were bright and blinking in the humid summer night while the breeze rushing in through the windows cooled your skin and ruffled your hair. Eddie was driving fast and had the music at a deafening volume. It made you feel alive – reckless and daring. Brave.

“You look so fucking pretty, doll.”

When you looked over at him, he was staring straight at you. The wind was whipping his messy waves around his face that was absolutely filled with softness. It made your heart rate kick up in your chest for two reasons. “Thanks, handsome. But you should really look at the road.”

You both laughed and he did, at least for a little while. When you looked back a few minutes later, he was staring at you again. Despite his lead foot on the gas pedal.

Anxiety spiking, you felt the smile on your face falter. “Seriously, Eddie, you should watch the road.”

“But I just wanna look at youuuuu,” he cooed in a way that would’ve been adorable if he hadn’t been pushing 80 mph on a country road.

“Eddie, please.” You tried to laugh it off, using your hand to try to turn his face back to looking forward. “You can look at me all you want when we get there, okay?”

Then he took both hands off the steering wheel to take yours, pressing kisses on each of your knuckles and over your palm. “Eddie,” you tried again, attempting to pull your hand away so he would focus. He took your denial playfully, yanking your hand back and flashing you a smile as his foot pressed down harder on the gas, speedometer inching toward 95. “Eddie, seriously!”

“Hmm?” He hummed, giving you a lovesick smile as he finally let your hand drop. You could feel your breathing kicking up, tears springing to your eyes in fear and panic, which seemed to reach him for the first time that something was wrong.

He realized too late.

“Eddie, LOOK OUT!”

His dirty Reebok hit the brake at the same moment his ringed fingers grabbed the wheel, jerking it to the side to avoid the tree that had fallen into the road. The van went skidding across the tarmac – your hands flying out to brace against the dashboard as the force of the spin pressed you hard against your seatbelt. It made a full 180 before the locked up wheels hit dirt and brought the car to an abrupt stop that threw you in the opposite direction of the spin.

Your head hit the backrest hard. There was a burning feeling along your neck and chest from the seatbelt. The car had come to a stop but it still felt like your brain was spinning, like the world was moving. Some nausea kicked up in your stomach and was amplified by the thoughts that invaded your head.

Thoughts like: We could have just died.

“Baby, are you okay?!” Eddie’s big doe eyes were absolutely filled with panic, rapidly looking back and forth between your tear-filled eyes, the rapid rise and fall of your chest, and the trembling of your hands. “I’m so, so sorry, I don’t know how that happened.”

You knew. You knew exactly how. You’d tried to tell him. Begged him to just look at the fucking road.

He’d begged for your forgiveness, starting to cry himself, and you granted it just to placate him. You just wanted to go home. Just wanted to feel safe again.

When did you stop feeling safe with him?

So now, three days later, you were standing in front of the door to his trailer with a rash-covered bruise along your chest and trembling hands. Rehearsing it again in your head, the ‘we need to talk’ speech that you were terrified to give.

The door ripped open before you were ready to knock.

“Hey doll!” Eddie’s face lit up in a brilliant grin, immediately pulling you into a bone crushing hug on his porch. “I was just thinking about you – are you sure you’re not a mind reader?”

“I, uh… I don’t think so?” You replied with an awkward smile, tentatively hugging him back.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he pulled back with a wink and pressed a kiss to your forehead before dragging you inside with him. “Come on, I can’t wait to tell you about this new idea I had for the campaign with the guys.”

This is going to be harder than I thought.

“I would love to but–”

“No, seriously, you’re gonna love it.” He was all smiles as he led you by the hand over to the couch and flopped down onto it, patting the spot next to him for you to sit. When you didn’t, he kept talking anyway. “So they are on the way to this underground cavern that’s supposed to be a settlement, right?”

“Eddie,” you tried to get his attention, still standing a foot away.

“Well, I was thinking, wouldn’t it really fuck them up if it was an underwater settlement? Like with merpeople? They’d have to backtrack, figure out a way to get the party to breathe underwater–”

“Eddie,” you tried again, and were ignored again.

“They should have the funds to buy a couple trinkets, and the sorcerer of the party should be able to cover a spell of waterbreathing for at least one or two of them–”

“EDDIE.”

With the sharp increase of volume from you, he finally fell silent. Those big, brown eyes were on you again and owlishly wide as he finally realized you were trying to say something to him. Another lovesick smile and a tilt of his head, holding out his hands toward you to try to encourage you closer. “What’s up, baby?”

“Eddie, I have to talk to you about something.”

His face and his hands fell in perfect harmony.

You'd rather die than take your eyes off me I don't love you like that I’m a careful driver And I tell you all the time to keep your eyes on the road But you love me like that You’re a reckless driver And one day it’ll kill us if I don’t let go

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[idlerin]

nonsense — bonus: don’t you know that i’m intoxicated !

note: i advise to not read if you haven’t read chapter 25 yet because it won’t make sense, it’s okay if you still want to though!

THE FIRST PHONE CALL

“i despise you, oikawa tooru,” you slurred through the phone, slumped on your dorm table. your roommates who were all just as intoxicated laid on different parts of the dorm, minding their business, all already half asleep. midterm finals have ended and you’ve decided to celebrate, but in the confines of your four walls, mostly because all of you had no designated driver.

“[name]?” oikawa had to look at his screen twice, not believing that it was really you calling him. it’s been months since you broke up and he wasn’t in japan anymore, he knew it should be around 2am there. he was in disbelief that you were giving him your time, he knew you truly hated him now.

“you broke my stupid fucking heart,” your mouth was way too loose.

“[name] i–” you didn’t let him finish.

“i hate you and your stupid hair and stupid eyes, everything about you is stupid!” you screech in his ear, “but i still stupidly fucking hope you achieve your dreams,” you cry, you bang your fist on your wooden table, “i’m so stupid aren’t i?!”

you were definitely drunk, oikawa deduced, he’s only ever seen you drunk twice and he knew you could be a little out of control when you were intoxicated, “[name]... i’m sorry,” he also knew you tend to forget a few things the morning after.

“you’re sorry?! ha! as if i’ll bel–”

“[name] oh my god i think i saw a unicorn!” oikawa hears an unfamiliar female voice. it was good you had company.

“wait, el, i’m busy!” he hears you hiccup, “i hate you so–” you halt as if you were hesitating, “so much oikawa tooru.”

“i know,” he smiles bittersweetly, sitting down on his bed and looking solemnly at the framed photo of you two he placed on his desk.

a few moments passed with his phone beside his ear as he heard shuffling from your side, you got distracted by something your friend said. oikawa only hoped you were safe. he missed hearing your voice. the last few months have been tough, being in a completely different environment. hearing your voice was the perfect respite, despite the fact that it was only because you weren’t in the right mind, and that this could be the last he’ll ever hear from you.

THE SECOND PHONE CALL

it wasn’t.

oikawa found himself 5 months later with his phone on his ear and you on the other line. you were drunk again, it was obvious not only with the loud music he was hearing in the background but because you wouldn’t be calling him in the first place if you weren’t drinking. he guessed you were at a party.

“why can’t you come home?” but this time you weren’t angry, you were being a little sweet, which oikawa thinks is way worse. he’d prefer if you were shouting profanities at him instead, his heart would be much calmer.

“i have work, darling,” oikawa couldn’t help but let the nickname out, maybe for a few minutes he could pretend as if everything with you was alright.

“i wanted to tell you that i shifted into journalism!” you let out a fit of giggles.

oikawa already heard it from makki, despite telling makki that it’s none of his business, makki still decides on becoming a menace because you were schoolmates. to rub it in oikawa’s face a little.

“i’m happy for you,” oikawa says genuinely.

“[name], who are you talking to?” oikawa hears a male voice speaking.

“akaashi!”

“[name] you’re drunk,” the unknown guy who's oikawa’s learned is ‘akaashi’ points out the obvious. oikawa resisted saying something he was going to regret, the name was familiar, one of your guy friends you used to talk about, but oikawa couldn’t help but feel a little envious that he wasn’t there with you.

oikawa hears you laugh, “am i? not much! i think,” you laugh even more.

“i think i should take you home,” akaashi sighs and the fact that your phone was still on call and you were talking to oikawa was forgotten. oikawa took it upon himself to end the call.

meanwhile you were leaning on akaashi’s shoulder because you complained that your head hurt when you dropped your phone. akaashi had to crouch down and saw just as your phone call had been dropped, but he didn’t miss the contact name that flashed and he immediately understood, who else could be ‘tooru <3'.

THE THIRD PHONE CALL

“i keep seeing your face everywhere and it’s fucking awful!” you were angry at him again, oikawa notes.

“i���m sorry,” oikawa didn’t know what else to say because it's not like he can control where his advertisements are placed.

“you don’t sound sorry!” you become angrier at him.

“i am sorry, darling, really” oikawa tries to soothe you. he didn’t have a clue where you could be because he didn’t hear any music and other voices, “can you tell me where you are right now?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“your– seeing your face everywhere makes my heart hurt but you also look kind of good in them so i don’t know what to think!” you shout more in anger, ignoring his question. but your words gave him a slight ego boost.

“thank you darli–” his amusement was cut off.

“don’t thank me you bastard!”

“okay i’m sorry, can you tell me where you are?” he repeats his question instead, this time with a small smile on his face.

oikawa hears you scoff, “why do you want to know?”

“so i can make sure you’re safe, darling,” oikawa runs a hand through his hair, pacing on his balcony that overlooks the city. you did have a point with seeing his face everywhere, he could too, even he still needed to get more used to it.

“shut up!” there was silence, “i’m at kuroo and bokuto’s place… they threw a party.”

“where are your friends?” he asked while looking at the time, it was around 1 in the morning there.

“passed out like weaklings!” you laugh, “most people have left, i’m waiting for akaas–ow!” you squealed and oikawa heard a thump.

“what happened!?” oikawa asks worriedly, you responded with more profanities. just then oikawa heard a door opening, a voice repeating his question of concern, it was the voice of akaashi.

“i slipped on a poster of tooru! who even brought this here! what the hell!” oikawa hears you cry out. he honestly did not know if he should be more worried or laugh.

“[name] are you alright?” he still asked, despite knowing of the other presence in the room.

oikawa could hear someone pick up the phone, but not you, “[name] is fine. oikawa-san, right?” akaashi spoke in a calm tone that oikawa didn’t know what to make of.

“yes,” oikawa answered curtly, he could still hear you in the background cursing.

“i’m going to be honest, i’m not the biggest fan of the things that happened between you and [name] but i have no business with whatever she chooses to do. that’s all i wanted to say, i will have to end the call now.”

oikawa accepts it without a word while akaashi notices you've changed your ex's contact name.

THE FOURTH PHONE CALL?

“are you real?” you mumble, eyes half closed while oikawa looks down at your form. you called him right after he finished his advertisement shoot here in japan, he planned to go straight to the hotel he was staying at but when you said you couldn’t find your friends he couldn’t resist heading to where you were. some loud club he would be lucky if no one were to recognize him, it was a good thing you were seated on a couch in the farthest from where all the people were.

oikawa crouches down to be at eye level with you, he was going to allow himself to be greedy and drinking the sight of you in, it’s been 2 years since he’s seen you in person after all. he notices that your hair was longer and you’ve learned how to do makeup, “that’s up for you to decide,” he was vague with his answer, reaching out to hand you a bottle of water.

“you’re kind of nice looking,” you squint at him. looks like you were too drunk to recognize him or perhaps you were just so sure he wouldn’t be appearing in front of you. you accept the drink without much thought, oikawa thinks you should be more guarded.

“thank you, gorgeous,” oikawa grins at you, he did just come from a shoot, “why don’t we call somebody you know?”

“hey, do you want to kiss me?” you suddenly say which takes oikawa aback.

“w-what?” he stutters, your question was so abrupt, your boldness took him by surprise.

“so you do?” you smirk as you lean closer to his face.

“you shouldn’t be asking strangers to kiss you, darling,” oikawa says as he softly pushes you away once he’d contained himself. he didn’t know what to feel considering you thought he was a stranger right now, thinking if it was someone else in his situation, it made him a little jealous. irrational since he was the one with you right now.

oikawa watches as you frown and then your lips wobble, “do you think i’m ugly? you think i’m ugly don’t you?”

“what? no of course not, you’re gorgeous, darling,” he reaches out to cup your face and wipe your tears.

“then why won’t you kiss me?!” you wail. oikawa felt a little stressed.

“you’re not in the right state of mind, darling,” he hesitates before leaning down and placing a soft kiss on your forehead, “there.”

“what am i? a kid?!” you continue to cry and oikawa was definitely stressed now.

“[name] what are you doing?” there was a sudden presence behind oikawa, he lets go of you and steps aside to be faced with a raven haired guy with framed glasses. the guy looks at him in the same scrutinizing way.

“akaashi!” you blurt out, still crying. oikawa now has a face to associate with the name. akaashi makes his way over to hold you by the arm.

“it’s time to go home, [name],” he says before facing oikawa, he reaches out a hand, “i’m akaashi keiji, you must be oikawa tooru, i assumed [name] has called you while drunk again, it seems that you’re back in japan.”

oikawa takes the hand, “nice to meet you. yes, but i’m only here until tomorrow. [name] was alone when she called, i was… worried,” he glances down at your half delirious form playing with the accessories on your hands.

“perhaps i should take your number? in case [name] does something like this again,” akaashi offers, using the hand that wasn’t keeping you from running away to take his phone out of his pocket. oikawa swiftly places his number in, calling it quickly so it would input into his before giving it back.

“thank you, we’ll be on our way then,” akaashi says coolly, indifferent to oikawa’s presence. he tries to walk away but you resist.

“wait akaashi!” you pull away and shock oikawa when you tackle him into a hug, oikawa awkwardly pat your back with akaashi’s presence, but then you shock him even more with what you say next, “i’ll miss you, hallucination of tooru,” you were definitely very drunk.

“alright, that’s enough, kenma’s waiting outside,” akaashi had to pull you away from him.

oikawa will relish this memory, and tomorrow he’s going to have to go back to his reality. one where you weren’t a part of his life anymore and he just had to accept that.

THE FIFTH PHONE CALL

it was hard to accept it, he just couldn’t turn down your call nearly 10 months later.

“tooru I hate you.”

“did something happen in school? why are you drinking, darling?”

“i’m so stressed! and so happy! i got the internship i wanted!” you were giddy with happiness and it was contagious.

“really?! that’s amazing!” oikawa says, genuinely happy. he makes a mental note to get you a congrats gift, and actually get it to you, somehow.

“i’m starting in two months though… i don’t remember clearly when right now!” looks as if today you were a happy drunk.

“why did you call, hm?” oikawa resists his headache, he just got home from a long day of shooting for a new project.

“will you come back to me?” your voice was quiet, the tired quiet, like you were about to fall asleep.

oikawa gives a painful smile to his ceiling as he clutches the phone,he wasn’t sure how to answer,  “of course. always,” he lies, because you wouldn’t remember any of this the next day.

“i…” you start but then you accidentally drop your phone.

“[name]? darling?” oikawa calls out.

“oh, she called you again,” akaashi was the one that picked up next.

“what happened to [name]?” oikawa asks, a little used to his encounters with the guy now.

“passed out so I put her in a room, she’s sleeping soundly right now. drank too much again, this woman needs to control her alcohol intake,” akaashi rants.

“you should just.. uhm.. end the call,” oikawa said.

“oikawa-san,” akaashi’s voice became softer, as if he was handling something fragile, “you and [name] have never had proper closure. it’s not any of my business but it’s either you guys start again or you finally let go. for the both of you.”

oikawa gulped, “but i.. [name] doesn’t even know she was doing this.”

“this is a complicated situation,” akaashi affirms, “you’re kind of hopeless,” akaashi was blunt and he thinks that you weren’t any better, thinking of the past christmases where you always had a spare gift you try to hide that you were buying, akaashi caught you red handed wrapping it and he watched you panic and say it was an ‘emergency gift’ but you were obviously lying, the gifts were always something for someone with specific taste, but it wasn’t his place to tell oikawa that.

“goodbye,” oikawa says, a little mad, but akaashi was right after all. he was hopeless. he glanced at his desk where he turned over the picture of the two of you, a part of his way to try moving on.

it clearly wasn’t working. his steps were defeated as he settled the frame facing front again.

masterlist | playlist

nonsense ! an oikawa tooru social media au

synopsis. you were oikawa tooru’s #1 fan, until you became his #1 hater. you hated him so much you went viral on twitter (accidentally) and literally became known as “the oikawa tooru hater”, doesn’t help that he keeps fueling the fire by subtweeting you. everyone is all in for this new drama. what isn’t known to the public, is that this particular drama’s been on hold for three years (him being your ex and all).

a/n — excuse my bad writing. and my tendency to write pining.