#I want to make hobbies but the universe is working against me

[curly-cottage-girl]

I downloaded krita and want to start trying digital art but I wish I had step by step art I could follow for reference practice…

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Pity Party.

Synopsis - Carmy just wants to see you treated the way he thinks you deserve. He decides to take matters into his own hands.

Pairing - Carmen Berzatto x Female Roommate Reader

Word Count - 3k

Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol mention. carmys filthy mouth.

Age Rating - 18+

Author's Note - hello hello hello!! i am back!! i had a wonderful vacation soaking up the sun, and i am feeling refreshed and ready to go. i have had so many ideas over the past few weeks, so i'm excited to get some of them written asap!! this was a fic that came to me randomly, as i was thinking about roommate!carmen and how much of a menace he'd be if you ever talked about other guys. this was written as a part of my carmen roommates collection. it doesn't follow on from Finders, Keepers or Sweet Dreams, but it does exist in the same universe - so you can decide if this takes place before or after!! as always, feel free to send me any ideas or thoughts or burning desires you have. so much love <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Series Masterlist. Masterlist. Inbox.

"You're back early."

Carmy had swung the door open, expecting to come home to an empty apartment. Instead, he's met with the sight of you, sitting on the couch, undoing the straps of your shoes.

"Fuckin' disaster," you mutter, loud enough for him to hear.

He breathes out a chuckle at the stormy look on your face. Carmy thinks you're cutest when you're angry. He aches to smooth the crease between your brows with his thumb.

"That bad?" he asks, taking a seat next you and kicking off his sneakers.

"You wouldn't even believe."

He rises and makes his way to the kitchen, filling the tea kettle and placing it on the stove top. Grabbing two mugs, he casts a glance over his shoulder at you, frowning at your body language. You look defeated.

Carmy steeps two cups of tea, placing one of them carefully into your waiting hands. He resumes his seat on the sofa, pressing his thigh against yours and turning to face you.

"You wanna talk about it?"

You think for a moment before replying.

"You're gonna laugh at me."

His face instantly crumples, confusion written all over it.

"I'll never laugh at you. I'll laugh with you, sure. But never at you."

He nudges your shoulder with his, urging you to go on.

"Okay, fine. The actual date was pretty good. He took me to that Italian place downtown-"

"Dolce Vita? Did you get the truffle pasta I told you about?" Carmy interrupts you before you can continue.

"Yes, oh my God. It was incredible. Do you think you can recreate it sometime?"

"Fuck yeah. They're pretty secretive with their recipes, but I think I can figure it out. You can help me if you want - I'm gonna need a sous chef."

He pulls a reluctant laugh from you, the sound echoing off the ceramic of your mugs. You both know that being the sous chef involves you sitting on the counter drinking wine while Carmy does all the work.

"Of course. I'll always be your sous chef."

"I'll hold you to that."

You smile at him gently, a little taken aback by the sincerity in his voice.

"Anyway. The dinner went great. He seemed super interested in me, asked me questions, told me about his job, his hobbies, his dog. He was hot, and good to talk to. I thought I'd hit the jackpot."

"And then?"

"And then we went back to his apartment. And it all went to shit."

He chuckles, blue eyes glinting in the moonlight.

"Tell me more."

"You really want to hear about all of this?"

It's not like you and Carmy aren't close. You absolutely are. It's just that there's always been this unspoken connection between the two of you. A bubbling, fiery attraction that you both shut down repeatedly, screwing the lid on tight whenever it rears its head. So, you tend to avoid talking to Carmy about dating. You're scared you'll accidentally blurt out the truth - you compare every single date to him.

"Of course I do."

His answer is so genuine it makes you ache. You continue, hesitantly.

"Well... things got a little... heavy. He wasn't a bad kisser, I guess... he just wasn't... a good one? He kept biting my lip super hard and it kinda hurt. Then he pulled my clothes off like a high schooler, and he's on top of me, and I'm waiting for him to sort of... do... anything? And then he's finished. Like, completely done. And then he has the nerve to ask me if I finished."

Carmy's mouth has fallen open, shock etched across his face. After a long, heavy pause, he speaks.

"What the fuck?"

You look at him for moment, before bursting into contagious laughter. He joins you, both of you with your heads thrown back, giggles reverberating around the lowlit room.

"I mean, seriously," he pants, still laughing. "What the fuck?"

"I didn't even answer him. I just put my clothes on, grabbed my bag and left without saying a word."

Every time you try to stifle your laughter, a giggle escapes. The situation wasn't funny at the time, but looking back, it's hilarious.

All of a sudden, you both go silent. You're deep in thought, reflecting on the seemingly never ending stream of bad dates that you've endured. Carmy is watching you intently, ocean blue eyes glued to your face.

"Fuck," you breathe. "This is kinda pathetic."

Carmy inhales deeply, and turns his body so it's facing yours on the couch.

"The way I see it," he begins, "you have two options."

You quirk a brow in confusion and stay quiet, waiting for him to explain.

"You can sit here feeling sorry for yourself, or, you can let me fuck you the way you deserve."

Your mouth falls open in shock at the exact same moment your brain seems to shut down. You can't think. You can't process his words. All you can focus on is the way he's staring at you. You suddenly feel hot under his gaze, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. A shiver runs down your spine, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

"Wh-... what?" you choke out.

"You heard me, honey. You can wallow in your little pity party, or you can let me show you what it's like to be with someone who can actually make you come. Your choice."

His voice has dropped an octave lower than usual, the tone warm and honeyed. He's still staring at you, blue gaze unrelenting.

"Is this gonna fuck everything up between us?" you whisper hesitantly.

Carmy reaches out and places a gentle hand on your cheek, thumb stroking careful circles into your skin.

"I don't think anything can fuck up what we have," he murmurs. "You're the only thing in my life that makes sense."

His confession seems to sober you up, the honesty in his words snapping you back to your senses.

"Okay."

He almost does a double take at the sureness in your voice.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Put your money where your mouth is, Carmen."

"There she is," he chuckles. "You scared me when you went quiet for a second there."

"Well, if what you say is true, you're not gonna be able to shut me up for the night."

He laughs darkly, and slides closer to you slightly.

"Oh, honey. You're gonna wish you hadn't said that."

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, tracing the journey of your neck with his fingertips. He rests his hand lightly at the base of your throat, the heavy weight of it making you pant.

"If there's any point where you don't like something, or you want me to slow down, just say so. Okay?"

You nod your head, entranced by the sudden dominance he's displaying. You've never seen this side of him before. You can't believe he's been hiding it this whole time.

"Words, pretty. Need to hear you say it."

"Yes. I understand. I'll tell you, I promise."

He doesn't say anything in reply, just smirks. He lets you sit in the silence for a moment too long, the anticipation slowly killing you.

"Please, Carmen," you breathe. "Please."

"Fuck," he groans, shuffling closer to you. "You sound so pretty when you beg."

Carmy leans in and kisses your cheek gently, testing the waters. He presses a kiss to your other cheek, and pulls back to watch for your reaction. When he's happy, he tilts forward and leaves a careful kiss on your chin, then your forehead, then both of your closed eyes, before kissing you on the side of your mouth. His closeness makes you whine, desperate for him to give you what you want.

Finally, he connects his lips to yours, starting off slow and tender. When you tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and try to pull him even closer, his resolve snaps. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You clamber over him and climb into his lap, straddling his hips and pressing yourself into his body.

Carmy can't decide where to put his hands. He's grabbing at your waist, running his fingers up your back, pulling you into him by your ass. You're both groaning into each others mouths, enraptured by the other person and the all consuming way they kiss.

"Can I take this off?" he asks lowly, pulling at the hem of your dress.

Instead of answering, you pull it over your head, throwing it onto the floor in front of you.

"Fuck," he murmurs. "Most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

His hands are roaming all of your exposed skin, as if he can't get enough. He's terrified he won't ever get to see you like this again, so he's not going to waste a second.

You grind your hips down into his, eliciting a groan from the both of you. His hands tighten their grip on your waist, as he leans up to press open mouthed kisses to your jaw. Your fingers fly to the hem of his t shirt, pulling it off swiftly. You manage to shove his jeans down and off, before attempting to pull off his underwear. Carmy stops you in your tracks.

"Nuh uh," he tuts. "This is about you. Not me."

He pulls you off his lap gently and shuffles so his back is resting against the couch cushions. He spreads his legs wide, and gestures for you to sit between them. When you don't move, he looks at you carefully.

"Give me a color, pretty girl."

You take a deep breath, and smile at him softly.

"Green, Carmen. Promise."

You manoeuvre sideways, so you can place yourself with your back to his chest. He wraps his arms around you for a moment and holds you tightly, as if he's scared you'll disappear any second. You relax into his embrace, all the tension leaving your body. You have nothing to worry about. It's just you and Carmen, in the place you call home.

You drop your head back into Carmy's shoulder, and allow yourself to get lost in the feeling of his hands on your skin. He's begun tracing patterns down your arms, your sides, your stomach, until he reaches your underwear. He plays with the band, dipping his finger underneath in a feather light touch. Goose bumps rise across your body and you shiver, practically vibrating with need.

"Carmen," you whisper. "Don't tease."

"But that's half the fun," he murmurs into your ear, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

You can picture it perfectly, too. The way his eyes crinkle, the way his mouth curves, the way he bites his lip to stifle it. The image in your mind makes you melt into him further. You want to be as close to him as you physically can be. You'd completely disappear into him if you could.

He brings you back to reality by cupping you over your underwear, groaning when he feels the saturated material.

"Oh, pretty girl. Is this all for me? Fuck."

Suddenly, his game of teasing has lost all its fun. Carmy twists his fingers into your underwear and pulls them off in one swift movement, throwing them in the general direction of your dress on the floor. He places a hand on each of your thighs and spreads them apart, hooking them over his legs.

Carmy starts off slow, careful. He caresses over your skin, gentle and almost apprehensive. When he gets to your core, he swipes a finger through, testing the waters. When you buck your hips into his hand, he knows you're both on the same page.

"Just relax, okay? Gonna make you feel good."

His deep, smooth, whiskey like voice is doing nothing to help the heat bubbling in your stomach. You only whine in response, wiggling your hips to urge him to keep going.

Carmy throws one arm around your stomach, keeping you plastered to his body. You can feel him hot and hard against your back, and you so desperately want to feel him that your mouth is watering. You grind back into him, and he reads your mind.

"Not yet," he whispers. "This is about you, remember? Need to show you what you've been missing."

With that, he circles your clit with two fingers, slowly but surely. He revels in the noises you elicit. They're making him dizzy, disorientated. He never thought he'd be the one to pull a sound like that from you. He's quite convinced he's dreaming.

"Let me hear you. Don't hold back on me, okay?"

You nod your head frantically, willing to give him whatever he asks if you get what you want.

Carmy slips a finger into you slowly, moaning under his breath at your warmth. When he thinks you're ready, he adds a second finger, and sets a steady rhythm, trying to figure out what you like.

After he's set his pace, he starts to curl his fingers on the up stroke, grinning to himself when he finds the spot.

"Yeah? Right there? That's it, isn't it?"

You're nodding and shaking and pawing at his forearms, trying to tether yourself to reality in any way you can. You think you might be floating, on cloud 9, in some sort of euphoric trance. You can't believe no one's ever made you feel like this before. You're convinced no one ever will again.

Carmy quickens his pace and basks in the glory of your moans. He thinks this might be the most beautiful you've ever looked, spread out completely for him. Every inch of your skin is touching his, and it makes his heart skip a beat for a second.

He presses a kiss into your hair and keeps his mouth there, murmuring honeyed praises into your ear.

"Doin' so good for me."

"You got it, honey, that's it."

"Atta girl. Keep going. Almost there."

"You look so fuckin' pretty like this. Fuck. Gonna be thinking about this forever."

"I'll ruin you, baby. Nothing's ever gonna compare to this, to what we have."

All you can do is moan in response, his filthy words pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You're almost there, but something is stopping you. You whine in frustration, tears welling in your eyes. Carmy feels the tension suddenly grasp your muscles, and leans down to mutter to you softly.

"What is it, sweet girl? What do you need? Just tell me. Anything, and I'll give it to you."

You're not sure how much you trust your voice right now, so you decide to show him instead. You take the hand that he's using to hold you to him and move it up your body until it's resting against your throat. You tighten your fingers around his, and moan in response to the pressure.

"Oh, baby," he coos. "Filthy fuckin' girl. Here I thought you were so innocent, and this whole time you wanted to be choked like a whore?"

The way he degrades you so lovingly makes you mewl. You'd never ever trust anyone else to speak to you this way in such an intimate moment - but with Carmen, there's no hesitation. You know he's just telling you what you need to hear in the heat of the moment. And you love him for it.

"Fuck, Carmen," you manage to choke out. "Keep going. Don't stop, please."

"I'll do anything you want if you keep saying my name like that," he whispers.

"Carmen," you moan in response. "Carmy Carmy Carmy Carmy Carmy."

You're chanting his name like a prayer. He's rutting into your back, hips grinding and circling in time with his fingers that are maintaining their steady rhythm. His fingers tighten around your throat as he crooks his digits just right, and the result is a devastating moan from you that Carmy wishes to have on repeat for the rest of his life.

"So close," you whisper hoarsely. "Harder."

Carmy uses his thumb to circle your clit with one hand, other hand pulling you by your neck back into him tightly. He grinds his hips dirtily into you, and the feeling of him so silky and warm against you is what sends you over the edge. The corners of your vision go white as you arch into him, head thrown backwards into his chest. The sounds you're making are so melodic, so borderline angelic that Carmy almost cries. Heaven, he thinks. This is salvation.

Carmy finishes with you, climaxing onto the soft skin of your back. You both relax simultaneously, chests heaving and panting. He removes his fingers gently and wraps both arms around you, pulling you into him tightly despite the mess. He reaches to brush the hair out of your face, and the gesture is so tender it makes your lip quiver.

"Thank you," you whisper after what feels like hours of comfortable silence.

"Sorry I called you a whore," he murmurs back.

You let out a surprised laugh, vibrating with amusement in his arms.

"I know you didn't mean it."

"I mean I did give you the best orgasm of your life, so... call it even?"

"You're forgiven," you chuckle. "Completely forgiven."

You trace gentle patterns over his forearms with your fingertips, following the black ink of his tattoos. He sighs in contentment and places a kiss into your hair, relaxing further into the couch.

You sit together like that for a while, neither of you too concerned with the time. It's not often you see Carmy so relaxed, so serene. You're enjoying it for as long as you can.

"We should clean up," he says quietly, eventually. "Sorry about the mess."

"It's okay. Worth it," you tease, pinching his thigh. He pinches your side in retaliation, which makes you jump.

"Come on, trouble."

He stands from the couch, never letting go of the grip he has on you. You have no choice but to stand with him, yelping as he half carries you through the apartment towards the shower.

The sounds of both of your laughter bounce off of the abandoned mugs of tea still sat on the coffee table, melodic and joyous. The moonlight seeps through the windows, illuminating the beginning of something special in the living room of your shared apartment.

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — YUUJI ITADORI. isn’t it weird? how love never changes.

about. no matter what anyone says, yuuji itadori’s love for you is unwavering and he hopes that you’ll never see a reason to change. not for anyone, not even him. (1K)

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, characters are aged up to 20s and in college, weird gf and jock bf, yuuji is a jock and has obnoxious teammates, reader is an introvert and wears glasses, selfship coded i fear, fem!reader.

“itadori, don’t you think your girlfriend is a little.. weird?”

the pink haired jock blinks once, then frowns  as he tugs a fresh shirt over his head — practice with his soccer team had ran a little longer than anticipated and he didn’t feel like coming home to you, his girlfriend, in a stinky old shirt. 

yuuji’s not sure when the topic of locker room talk had switched onto him and his love life but he cares enough to bite — not about to let his teammates talk smack about his girl. “where’d you get that idea from?”

another teammate speaks up. “when she comes to your games, she wears your sweatshirts but doesn’t cheer for you at all.” 

“she’s just shy, nothing wrong with that.” yuuji counters.

“whenever we hang out at the after partie she’s always… clinging onto you… doesn’t drink with any of us.”

“i told you, she’s a little shy,”  he stands up a little straighter this time, narrowing his eyes. “and parties aren’t for everyone. she might not like them but she’s there to support me. shouldn’t that be enough?”

“but dude…” someone else speaks up. “don’t you find any of that strange? like she’s just… weird.”

yuuji can’t get home fast enough after that. he almost falls to pieces when he sees you singing and shuffling your way through the cupboards in his dorm kitchen — making yourself a snack. he loves it when you stay over and he gets to watch you like this, so calm and at ease in his space. he feels grateful to even be sharing it with you.

weird isn’t a word that yuuji itadori would use to describe his girlfriend. 

he finds you intriguing. your relationship is still new, so all of the differences between you both interest him beyond belief. each time he discovers a new habit of yours (like the way you forget to take your glasses off when you sleep) or a fact about your life before college, or finds out something obscure relating to your hobbies and interests… yuuji can’t help but to fall in love with you all over again. like an astronomer who’s searching for the secrets of the universe, the pink haired jock wants to know every interesting little detail that makes you, you. 

that’s created the very person he loves today. 

“please never change,” yuuji breathes against the back of your head once he’s home. you can’t even comprehend the speed at which he’s dropped his gym back before he’s wrapped himself around you in the same manner that a boa constrictor would. only more affectionate. “and if you do, let me change with you.” 

being this close to itadori, you can smell his baby-fresh soap and the tinge of sweat from his work out. you can feel the strength of his arms as they squeeze you close from behind — like he’ll never let you go. he makes you feel loved even when it’s not on purpose, you go your every waking moment cared for and adored by yuuji itadori. it’s always subconscious, unwavering and steady. your love is stable like that, never dampened from those outside of the two of you — that much will never change. 

“that’s a big ask, yuu.” comes your contented hum, but you don’t stop your actions — continuing to make your snack while the pink haired jock squeezes you tight. as if to become one with you. “people change all the time.” 

you hold up a hand behind you and he sucks the peanut butter from your thumb eagerly. “i know, but i don’t want what anyone else says about you or us to make you change,” he mumbles petulantly against the shell of your ear, trying to find the right words as he tucks his face into your neck. “you’re perfect to me, as you are.” 

it’s cute that he reminds you of such a trivial little thing. those big brown eyes of yuuji’s see perfection in all of your flaws. he loves you so much you wonder if how much you feel for him even compares. 

“what’s gotten into you?” you giggle, spinning in his arms to stand on the tips of your toes — pressing a soft kiss to the point at which your boyfriend’s jaw meets his neck. it’s all you can reach. “did something happen?” 

yuuji hesitates for a moment, lips pursed and honey-glazed eyes cast to the side. he would never lie to you, that’s not in his nature — but he’d never want to hurt your feelings either. “the guys…the guys on the team said some stuff about us today,” his voice trails off and his hands trail upwards, dipping underneath the jersey of his that you wear to draw circles into your waist using his rough thumbs. he figures it’s best to tell you before one of his teammates  let it slip and hurt your feelings. he would rather die then let that happen. “they… they think you’re weird and that… that we’re too different.” 

“o-oh.”

a flash of pain comes with the territory of yuuji’s honesty, but he’s quick to soothe it as though he’s running your burn under a stream of cool water. “but i like you. like…really really like you,” the words rush out while his eyes stay serious and set in stone. your boyfriend grasps both of your hands firmly before you can even think to cry or pull away.

yuuji is there and he is constant and that is never changing. not for anyone, except for you. “and i like all of the funny things about you. that you’re a little quiet, that you’re always by my side, that you leave me notes in my gym bag or share your celebrity crushes with me. i like you for you. even if you’re a little weird — then…then i am too!” 

his hands, strong and yet so soft, traverse up to your round cheeks — tilting your head up to face him. “please don’t ever change because of what people say,” yuuji repeats tenderly, his lips finding the crown of your head in a gentle kiss. he stays there, like a magnet on metal and the world stands still for a moment. remaining the same, no longer changing, so that yuuji itadori can love you as is. “the way you are right now, it’s everything to me.” 

itadori only moves when you tip your head back to get a better look at him, he looks down at you through his unfairly long lashes — brown eyed gaze latching onto yours while your hearts sync up, beating to the same drum. “i’ll never change, as long as you promise to always love me like this.”

“i’ll love you the same way that i always have. like i’m the luckiest guy in the world, yeah?” he laughs and you smile — because it’s hard to be upset when yuuji is around, and protects your love so genuinely. 

you lean up and he meets you half way — pressing a slow and lingering kiss to the swell of your lips, wrapping his arms around you once again as you away to a silent tune in his tiny dorm kitchen. 

change is inevitable of course. the two of you will grow and become different people than you are right now — but you will always find your way back to the beautiful love that you hold. 

much like a butterfly that blossoms into something beautiful too.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[concreteparasite]

⋆Happy Birthday Ray!!!⋆

It's Ray's birthday today (04/30)

I am not able to do much this year b/c I'm pretty busy, but I wanted to take some time to do a little something. So I did a quick painting and a story blurb :3 hope everyone enjoys!

04/29 11:57 pm

"Shouldn't you be asleep?"

The blonde man gives me a questioning look. I look at the tired hero leaning on the kitchen counter. I caught him after he got back from work, fresh out of the shower, towel around his waist, exhaustion written all over his face. He forces it back to give me a small smile.

"Are you having trouble sleeping Star?"

Ray looks around the kitchen, then back at me.

"You seemed to be hard at work in here today."

My eyebrows knit "What? But I thought I cleaned everything up?"

Ray chuckles lightly. "You did, I just have an eye for detail."

11:58 pm

A smirk moves across my face. "Oh do you?"

"Well, yes I do. For one, What are you holding behind your back?"

"It looks to me that you are up to no good."

"Well your eyes must be going bad old man."

Ray's eye gives a little twitch of annoyance.

"'Old man'? You know, if anyone else called me that even accidentally they would apologize to me profusely..."

Ray leans over me studying me with his eyes, smirk across his face.

Ray's voice lowers.

"So what makes you so special huh?"

I lean into Ray.

"I think I can list a few things."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I'll take a demonstration then. I'm a visual learner you know."

11:59 pm

I break into a smile.

"How about later?"

Ray gives an amused look, leaning back into his original position.

"What? your schedule isn't open on a Monday at midnight?"

I glance at the clock. It was almost time.

"Well it's not just any Monday is it?"

Ray seems confused.

"Wh-?"

12:00 am

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY RAY!!!"

I nearly shout bringing forward the box behind my back.

Before Ray can even respond I bound forward planting a kiss on his cheek. He wraps his arms lightly around me on instinct, looking down at me his face utterly shocked.

I bring the box forward.

"You can probably already guess what this, 'eye for detail' and all~"

Ray's arms fall from my side as he takes the box in his hands.

He opens it to reveal a small cake, with admittedly less than beautiful craftsmanship.

"I thought, since cooking is your hobby, maybe you would like it if I made you a cake..."

"It kind of fell apart though... and didn't really turn out the way I wanted..." Ray looks back up at me, his eyebrows are knit as a sea of emotion runs behind his eyes.

"Maybe I should have just bought-"

Before I can finish the statement Ray places down the cake, taking my face into both of his hands and kissing me deeply.

His thanks and feelings that he was unable to vocalize he instead pushed through his lips into my own. His hands trembled just a bit against my skin.

Ray eventually pulls back and he looks into my face, giving a lovely bright smile, free from any of the exhaustions from earlier in the night. He whispers to me as he plants small kisses everywhere along my face.

"I can't believe you forgot your own-"

"Have I told you that I love you?"

"Yes, many times."

"I love you."

"Yes, I know."

"I don't think there is anything in this universe that can truly convey how much you mean to me."

I smile "I know Ray. You don't have to say it."

"I just don't know what to do to express it."

"You don't have to do anything Ray."

"But that doesn't feel like enough, nothing will ever feel like enough."

"I love you so much."

Ray nuzzles his face into the crevasse of my neck.

"Ugh, I'm going crazy... You're making me go crazy. This is all your fault." I laugh at Ray's out of character antics.

"Well wait to say all that until after you try the cake."

Ray chuckles against my neck giving it a short kiss before pulling away from me.

Ray grabs two forks.

"So... should I put poison control on speed dial first?"

I lightly hit Ray on the arm.

"I hope it takes you out."

"Oh no Star, don't say that, you aren't cut out for a life of villainy."

Ray winks at me.

He leans forward and down closer to my eye level, staring at me.

"What?"

"So are you going to hand feed me?"

"Okay."

Ray looks a little shocked.

"You didn't think I was going to say yes did you?"

"You just wanted to tease me didn't you."

"You evil old man."

Ray smirks, leaning down and closer. He opens his mouth.

I grab a piece of the cake, bringing it slowly to his mouth. Ray's finger's entwine my wrist, steading it as he leads the bite into his mouth. Frosting smears his lower lip as his lips enclose the fork and it pulls out.

Ray chews and swallows the cake. By the time I realize my wrist is still in his hand, he already has me pinned between the counter and his body. He kisses me deeply, licking the frosting off of my lip.

"You make a better cake than you think star."

"And it tastes even better on you."

His eyes darken.

"Now how about that demonstration?~"

[antidesire]

your older boyfriend is just soo considerate ♡

disclaimer.. age gap relationship, re6/vendetta leon so 37+, reader is 21+, first part is fluff, other part.. size kink, like a big one, calls reader small/tiny, hint of dacryphilia, he likes taking care of you, it feeds his ego, roughness, spitting, choking, manhandling, this is so self indulgent don’t even talk to me, just jumbled headcanons about size kink w older bf leon

reblogs and feedback are appreciated. requests are open

leon would spend hours upon hours, way into the early morning listening to your worries and woes, how your job was stressing you out, how you are convinced that one professor is failing you on purpose, or how your friends had gone quiet on you suddenly. any little worry he would reassure away alongside a firm kiss on your forehead.

you admired him so very much, if he couldn't see you had the biggest heart eyes for him then he was a fool. every little thing he did, all his silly little habits had your heart bursting at the seams.

he would encourage you over the smallest of things,

oh you learned a neat new hobby? that's great, leon wants to hear every little detail on what it's about and how far you've gotten with it.

you've worked so hard this week? you need a little treat, he's giving you his card for the day.

got out of bed today despite struggling? you're spending the entire night in his arms, you want a massage? head rub? shoulder to cry on? you get it all. you're the most important thing to him.

he'd showed up at your college/university to pick you up early, and it was lunch time so he caught a lot of attention. "leonnn!" you called out ever so sweetly, quickly rushing over to your boyfriend in the parking lot, admiring your cute little outfit you adorned yourself in today, "y'wanna meet some of my friends?"

you had done nothing but gush about this man to all of your friends, and when they finally met him, they understood, they more then understood, some of them were evidently jealous.

you'd never have to lift a finger with him around, he spoiled you rotten.

okay sappy stuff over, i wanna fuck this old man

he's just soo considerate.. ♡

that you don't even realize his presence until he is pressed against your ass, plucking your purposefully placed by him favourite glass down from the top shelf, his other hand swiftly finding place under your shirt, warm fingertips pinching the soft flesh of your hip.

"you're too small, you'll hurt yourself." he'd scold you, lips attaching to your neck, laying fleeting kisses there which got your breath heavy as your hands gripped onto the kitchen counter, feeling him press you further into the appliance.

it was a little humiliating when he’d whisk you into his lap in public, important meetings, fancy dinners, you name it, no matter what, you’re sitting on his lap.

he’d watch you toy with his fingers, fiddle with his rings just to see how small they were against his, would be purposefully pressing you against his hard-on just to watch the way you dig your nails into his palm helplessly.

constantly squishing you against him, towering over you, pinning you to things, against things.

tell him he won’t fit, give him fat tears rolling down your cheek to match and he is talking so sweet to you, “ohh baby, s’okay, i got you sweetheart shh shh, i’ll make it feel so good.”

sometimes even he’d use the excuse that he’s just too big, like there’s no way you’re not getting his fingers fucked into your pussy and ate out before you attempt to take even an inch of him :((

“you’re so tight baby, how many times have i fucked this cute little pussy and you’re still not used to it?” he’d rasp out, dragging out every second of pushing his fat cock into your pussy to set an example.

“needy cunt can’t stop sucking me in, relax sweetheart.” he’d coo in a voice that sounded like pure honey.

the way you could feel the burning stretch every time he pushed his cock in your cunt had your back lurching off of the mattress, he had to push you back down with his hand pressing against your stomach which sent you into a frenzy, seeing the way his fingers sprawled out across your stomach.

bulge kink ♡

when he first saw the outline of him in your fucking tummy it sent him absolutely ballistic, he’d be sweating, dick twitching inside you and saying the crudest nastiest things as his fingers trailed the shape,

“look, look right fucking now-“ he grunted and you’d have to force yourself out of your daze, leaning up on your elbows and seeing what he saw, you’d cum right on the spot, especially when he stuffs himself deeper, he’d be totally pussy whipped, pussy drunk, whatever you wanna call it, he is just crazy for it.

“you feel my that baby? deep inside you? mmh? you make me feel so good, you know that don’t, you angel?” he wouldn’t let up on you unless you gave him a coherent answer.

a lot of bouncing on his knee, pretends not to notice you’re all hot and bothered until you’re eventually rutting against him, begging for his attention with tears in your eyes, sticky underwear, and a puddle of your arousal making his denim even darker.

loves the way you struggle to take his cock down your throat, you always have your hands all over him, throat sore, gagging and spitting to try make it easier- you’re so sloppy and your teeth graze against him a lot but he can’t help but find it endearing, just means he has a lot to teach you.

one day, laying you down to fuck your throat, watching the way his cock slides deeper and deeper, he can see how your throat expands to accommodate for his size.

manhandling you, like a lot, like everywhere, i told you you never have to lift a finger. his strength would make your stomach clench in desperation every time, you’re riding him but he still takes the lead, hips fucking up into you as he pulls your hair, forcing your back to arch so he can toy with your nipples in his mouth.

his entire body engulfing yours as he fucks you into the mattress, arms flexing either side of your head, all you can smell is him, all you can feel is him, everything is about him.

if you ever got too tired from doing such a good job bouncing on his dick he’d let you lay limply against him so he can use you like his own personal cocksleeve ♡

this man fucks you against walls, lifts you up to fuck you, the most uncomfortable positions are just so easy for him- they’re so worth it, he loves nothing more than wrecking your cute little cunt.

always slapping away your hands when you try to initiate anything, thumb playing with your clit before you could even reach down, his hand around your throat before you could even push his hand towards it, fingers stuffed down your throat before your tongue even fully hung out your mouth, spit dripping down your tongue as the two of you made out.

“let me take care of you.”

[rollingsins]

Quinn Bailey Must Die

P1 | P2 | P3

summary: Quinn Bailey is yours and Tara's man-eating, sexed up, horn-dog roommate. She's cool at first, you think. Until she sets her sights on Tara. 

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, language.

word count: 6.6k

a/n: set in the all hers universe, just a lil (big) one shot. love u guys, as always let me know your thoughts, always makes my day :))

Quinn Bailey is - to put it lightly - an absolute pain in your ass. 

New York City is expensive. 

College is expensive. 

And despite your parents' assistance and you and Tara both working part time jobs, it just isn’t feasible for you to get your own place in the city. 

So you’d put an ad in the paper. Found Quinn. She’d seemed fun at first - lively. The type of girl you’d want to be friends with in a new city like this. A tried and true party girl, glimmering like a jewel in a sea of dreary faces. 

But her sparkle had lasted all of three weeks. 

First it was the dishes. 

She left them piled up in the sink, unattended. For days, sometimes weeks. 

A little pet peeve of yours, but it wasn’t anything major. 

It had nothing on the men. 

They were like a revolving door. An entire roster of bodies to keep her warm. 

Short men. Tall men. Thin men, muscular men. Men with beards. Men without. Pretty men, sometimes, even ugly men. 

If he lived in the tri-state area and had a penis - likely he’d seen the inside of your apartment (and your roommate). 

But really, you’re not in the position to complain. 

You and Tara weren’t exactly known for having quiet sex, and of all the people you’d lived with, Quinn seemed to mind it the least. 

Maybe, looking back, that should have been the first warning sign. 

“I don’t know,” Quinn sighs one night over a glass of wine. Tara’s curled up in your arms, nursing her own glass as you play with her hair, “Sometimes I think I should just give them all up.” 

“Men?” You ask, furrowing your brow. You laugh a little at the thought, “I don’t know Quinn, outside of partying, men are your biggest hobby.” 

It’s not intended as a slight, and Quinn doesn’t take it as one. She throws a coy smile your way. 

“I don’t know, you two have just got me thinking lately,” She says, “I’ve never considered girls before. I mean, I like dick. A lot. But maybe dick isn’t everything.” 

“Poetic,” You say, an eyebrow raised. 

Men or women, it didn’t really matter who Quinn bought home. You’d have to wear your noise canceling headphones regardless. 

But Tara’s shifting in your arms, sitting up. Then, she narrows her eyes at Quinn.  

Like she’s scanning her for a potential threat. 

Although therapy had quietened some of Tara’s more jealous tendencies, it hadn’t gotten rid of them completely. Now, instead of stabbing - she chooses staring. 

You rub her arm, your quiet signal there are no threats here. 

“Besides,” Quinn says, throwing her hair back, “A chick can just strap one on, right? And it never goes soft. Maybe that’s an upgrade.” 

Tara’s tense against you. 

Quinn looks over at her, and suddenly notices the death glare she’s receiving. She pinches her eyebrows, a little confused. 

“What’s got you all worked up?” Quinn asks, with another flick of her hair. Her eyes widen, “Oh? You think I’m trying to make a play for your girl?” 

She leans back and lets out a loud laugh. 

“Chill Tara, if I was going to go for either of you, it wouldn’t be her.” 

And then it’s your turn to stare. 

Your hand freezes over Tara’s arm. A hot, familiar feeling of jealousy seeps through you, settles deep within your bones. 

Quinn catches your gaze and rolls her eyes. 

“Girls,” She says, exasperated, “You’re not the only pussy-lickers in town. Relax, okay?”

Tara leans back into you, seemingly placated. 

Quinn tilts her head, and downs the rest of her wine. She picks up her phone to call some other nameless man, no doubt to terrorize the two of you within the next half an hour. 

The conversation is over. 

But the jealousy bubbling under your skin doesn’t simmer down. And suddenly,  it’s the only thing you can think about. 

-

“What did she mean by that?” You agonize to Liv and Chad, a little later. 

You’re in the NYU quad, picking at your salad with a plastic fork. Tara’s in class, giving you more than enough time to stew on the conversation with Quinn. 

Chad slurps on his milkshake, seemingly unbothered. 

“She was just being friendly, YN, I wouldn’t read into it.” Says Chad, mouth open and full of food. 

Liv turns to him. Smacks his arm, a little too hard. 

“Friendly?” She says, voice shrill, “Friendly?” 

Chad blinks back at her, but she’s turning to you.  

“YN, she was not being friendly, don’t listen to him. Boys are so stupid.” 

“Hey-“ Interjects Chad, but Liv ignores him. She takes your arm. 

“She’s making a play for Tara, YN,” She says, a little urgently, “Girls do this. We like to play with our food before we eat it. She was scoping out Tara’s reaction before she put the moves on her for real.” 

You furrow your brow. 

“You think?” 

“I know,” Says Liv, “How do you think I got Chad?” 

Chad looks over to her, a little owlish. 

“Huh?” He says, creasing his forehead, “I asked you out, babe.” 

Liv shoots him a look. 

“You asked me out after I spent two weekends at your house asking for Mario Kart lessons.” 

Chad’s eyes widen. 

“You said that was so you could beat your brother!” 

Liv gives you a look. 

“Women are masterminds, YN. Watch the fuck out.” 

-

Liv’s comments ring in the back of your mind for the rest of the day. 

Now that you think about it, Quinn had been lounging about the house lately in scantily clad outfits. 

Sleep shorts that rose almost up to her hips. Tiny tank tops that were almost see through. She giggled a little too hard at Tara’s jokes, gushed over Tara’s cooking as if Tara was Gordon Ramsey himself. 

You’re starting to see it. 

Quinn liked her conquests. 

Men were easy, women a little harder - but for a girl who liked to conquer, who better than Tara? 

Your sweet, loving, loyal and devoted girlfriend. 

Prying Tara away from you wouldn’t be child’s play. 

Truly the Mount Everest of conquests. 

“What’s wrong baby?” Tara asks you a little later, after you’d spent half the night glaring at Quinn. 

She’d been traipsing around all afternoon in a pair of black panties and an old t-shirt, an outfit that wouldn’t have made you think twice about it a few days ago. 

But it’s different now. 

Liv’s words ring loud in your head, “Women are masterminds, YN.” 

You don’t respond, instead dropping a soapy pot to the countertop and watching as Quinn disappears into her bedroom, her phone pressed to her ear. 

Tara snakes her arms around your waist, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your neck. 

“Babe?” Tara prompts. 

“Nothing,” You mumble. You’re in your own head now, half afraid if you say it out loud it will become true. 

You feel Tara’s pout against your shoulder. 

“Something’s wrong, you barely said anything when I tried to get you to watch Saw III,” She says, turning you in her arms. 

She raises an eyebrow to punctuate her point. 

“And you hate gore movies.” 

“I like movies that make you happy,” You lie. 

Tara furrows her brow. 

“Okay, something is definitely wrong,” She says. She stands on her tip toes and presses the softest kiss to your cheeks, “Tell me babe, what is it?” 

You bite your lip. 

Tara is your girlfriend, you reason after a moment of hesitation, and if anyone were to understand jealousy - it would be her. 

You sigh and loop your arms around Tara’s waist. 

“Is Quinn… do you think she’s acting weird?” 

Tara frowns. 

“No weirder than usual.” 

“It’s just…” you chew your lip, “I think she might.. be into you, babe.” 

Tara shoots you a look. 

“I don’t think so,” She says. She leans up and presses a kiss to your lips, “She has a pretty solid roster of dudes to keep her entertained.” 

She brushes a stand of hair out of your face, “Is that what’s bothering you, baby? You know you have nothing to worry about. I only have eyes for you.” 

It placates you for only a moment. 

Of course you don’t have anything to worry about. Tara adores you. Tara’s killed for you. Tara loves you with every fiber of her being. 

It’s just… 

Quinn is pretty. So pretty. 

Tara had fallen hard and fast for you, who’s to say she couldn’t fall the same way for someone else? 

And then the dread is back. 

“It’s just… Liv said-“ 

Tara groans. 

“Babe, don’t worry about what Liv has said. She barely knows the days of the week.” 

“But she knows how to get guys,” You say, a little pointed. 

Tara tilts her head. Her eyes are warm, the softest smile on her lips. 

“I’m not a guy,” Tara promises. She nuzzles her nose against yours, “Quinn could parade around here naked doing backflips and I wouldn’t look twice at her. You know that, babe.” 

You do know that. 

And so you let Tara press warm kisses into your neck and drag you back to the bedroom. 

Make sure to moan a little louder than usual just to remind Quinn exactly who Tara belongs to. 

-

It doesn’t work. 

Because of course, why would it work? 

The barrage of men flitting in and out of Quinn’s room comes to a screeching halt. She’s celibate for almost a week, focusing all her sexual energy on your girlfriend. 

It’s subtle, in the masterful kind of way Liv described. 

“Man,” She sighs loudly, one morning from her spot at the kitchen counter, “Tara, do you think you could help me on this paper for film class? I have to write a paper on iconic women in horror.” 

Tara springs to action, charging away from you like this is her sole purpose in life: to share her catalog of benign horror knowledge to any pretty girl who looks her way. 

You fold your arms, unhappily. 

“Start with Ellen Ripley,” Tara commands, before she even sits down. Quinn begins typing, madly. Tara pulls up a chair next to Quinn’s, leaning in a respectful distance to peer down at Quinn’s screen.  

“Signorney Weaver’s impact on horror is maybe one of the things that made me interested in horror to begin with.”

“I didn’t know that,” Quinn coos. She touches Tara’s arm, only slightly, leaning in until their shoulders brush, “That’s so cute, Tara.” 

Tara draws back, clearing her throat. 

“When you’re done with Sigourney, maybe touch on Jamie-Lee-Curtis.” 

Quinn blinks over at her, eyes round, like an innocent doe. 

You know better. 

Your eyes narrow as you stand, reaching for your purse. 

“Baby,” You remind Tara, leaning over to touch her back, “We need to get groceries today. Before Sam comes to visit.”

Quinn’s schoolgirl act drops immediately. Her eyes frost over slightly as she looks over at you, only the tiniest twinge of irritation apparent. 

“Maybe you could do that later, YN?” She asks, voice tilted, “I have to get this paper done before tonight.” 

“Sorry,” You flash her the mildest smile, not sorry at all, “Tara’s sister is coming all the way from California. We need to get the place ready, right babe?”

Tara nods, turning to Quinn to shrug.  

“Google should be able to help,” She says, scooting off her chair and grabbing her coat, “Carrie’s a great film too, if you’re in a pinch.”

“Well, maybe you can help me when you get back?” Quinn asks, a slight pout on her lip as she looks at Tara. 

Your eyes narrow, but Tara nods, helpfully. 

“Sure.” 

-

Naively, you’d hoped Quinn would get bored with this little game she’d started. 

Her attention span is short, you’d reasoned, as soon as she’d figured out Tara isn’t returning any of her flirty looks or comments, she’d get bored. 

You’d been wrong. 

If anything, Tara’s lack of interest only seems to spur Quinn on more. 

Most of your classes are in the mornings, Tara’s in the afternoon. Tara walks you to class, leaves you with a soft kiss and an “I love you”, but you know Quinn doesn’t work until the evenings, and it’s just her and Tara alone in that tiny little apartment for hours on end. 

So you toil in your classes. Imagine the worst. 

Tara and Quinn, sitting side by side, watching horror movies. Quinn touches her arm, then her thigh, leaning in to kiss her. 

Tara bats her away, most times you think about it. But sometimes she doesn’t. Sometimes she lets herself be kissed. Sometimes she lets Quinn touch her, undress her. Fuck her. 

And those sometimes become all you can think about. 

This is a new challenge, one that has rarely surfaced in your relationship. 

Tara is so enamored with you, most people don’t even bother attempting to seduce her. But Quinn isn’t most people, she’s persistent and pretty and maybe Tara isn’t a guy, but that doesn’t mean she can’t fall for the same traps a lot of them do. 

A sticky hot, honey-trap by the name of Quinn Bailey. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, a little stern when you walk into the apartment that afternoon. Tara’s curled up onto the couch, blanket wrapped around her. Quinn’s hovering over her, the back of her hand pressed against Tara’s forehead. 

A prickle settles down the back of your spine. Your jaw clenches. 

But Tara doesn’t even look over, just nuzzles herself deeper into her blanket. 

“Tara isn’t feeling well, poor baby.” Quinn coos. 

You drop your bag, ignore the rageful little demon in you that wants to bat Quinn’s hand away and fall to your girlfriend's side. The tip of Tara’s nose is red, and her lips are chapped. As she blinks up at you, you notice her eyes are hazy. 

“Honey,” You say, all thought of Quinn gone as you press your lips to Tara’s cheek, “Why didn’t you call?” 

“It’s nothing, just a cold,” Says Tara, but she curls into your side anyway. You press a gentle kiss to her clammy forehead and rub her arm. Quinn disappears into the kitchen, returning with a small bowl. 

“I made her some tea,” Says Quinn, “And some soup from scratch.” 

You blink up at her. You’ve never seen Quinn cook anything in her life. She’s all Deliveroo and fruit roll ups and toast. But the kitchen sink is awash with stray noodles and dirty pots. The smell of soup lingers. 

“Thanks Quinn,” Tara murmurs, reaching out to take the bowl from her hands, “You didn’t have to do that.” 

The angry, jealous demon is back. Quinn’s smile is unsettling, almost triumphant. 

As if she’s out-girlfriend-ed you. 

You swallow the urge to punch her in the throat. 

“No, you didn’t.” You say, warily, “Tara’s allergic to MSG, you didn’t put any of that in it, did you?” 

Quinn shakes her head, her smile coy. 

“All natural, only the best for our girl.” Quinn says, and then squeezes Tara’s shoulder. 

You glare as she cleans up the dirty plates and contemplate homicide for the rest of the evening. 

-

When Tara’s feeling better, you’ll bring it up, you reason with yourself the next morning. 

Quinn Bailey is becoming a pest, a horned up sex-pest determined to get her claws in your girlfriend. 

It has to stop. 

The solution? 

This is where you’re a little stuck. You don’t know the solution. Strangling Quinn sounds great on paper, but not so much in practice. 

Dead people don’t pay rent, that’s the only thing you know for sure.

You contemplate this over the next couple of days, between wrestling a hot water bottle for Tara out of Quinn’s hands, and almost jogging down to the corner store at the end of your block to beat Quinn for the tylenol. 

Tara’s such a baby when she’s sick, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think she’s starting to enjoy this. Two women fawning over her, competing for who can nurse her the best. 

And the worst part is, Quinn knows exactly what she’s doing and she wants you to know it. 

She doesn’t say it, not outright, too smart to play her hand too quickly. 

She grins as she spoonfeds Tara some leftover soup, flashes you a look as she dabs Tara’s sweaty forehead with a damp cloth. 

She raises an eyebrow at you as Tara croaks out to her, asking for more tissues. 

It makes you stew. 

It makes you want to grab the kitchen knife out of the top draw and slam it through her stupid neck.

It makes you want to grab her by the hair and throw her out of the window of your seventh story apartment. 

But you resist. 

Let her think she’s winning. 

It’ll make the victory you claw from her hands all the more sweet. 

Tara’s feeling better a few days later, and with her recovery comes the first taste of victory. 

Quinn’s making dinner in the kitchen - her newfound passion being culinary for your girlfriend. She hums a little, flitting between batting her eyelashes at Tara and shooting knowing glances in your direction. 

“Tara,” She says, just as she’s about to pour the tomato paste into the pasta “I can’t get this jar open. Can you help me?” 

Tara’s busy with her laptop, but she moves over regardless. She touches your shoulder lightly as she passes, and reaches out to take the jar from Quinn’s hand. 

It pops open immediately. You roll your eyes. 

Quinn beams, and as you look up, she’s running her hand over your girlfriend’s bicep. 

“You’re so strong,” She flirts, brazenly, “Thanks Tara.” 

Tara moves back to her laptop, unperturbed. 

When it comes to attention towards her she has always been oblivious. You let out a growl so low, no-one but you hears it. 

“Dinner’s up, Tara,” Quinn says, a few moments later, pulling out a couple of plates. 

You peer down at your book, suddenly very interested in the words. When Quinn had asked you your plans for the evening - grocery bags in hand - you’d neglected to tell her Tara had asked you out to dinner. 

Tara blinks over at her, a little confused. 

“Dinner?” She asks, closing the lid of her laptop. 

“Yeah,” Says Quinn with a sickly smile, “I made your favorite.” 

Tara tilts her head, “Oh. Sorry, Quinn, we’re going out tonight. I didn’t realize you were cooking for us.” 

Quinn stares a moment. 

“That’s fine,” She says, voice a little clipped, “Only, I asked YN and she said you guys were around.” 

You close your book and stand, grabbing your coat. 

“Oh yeah,” You say, smacking your hand to your head, as if you’d suddenly forgotten, “Dinner. I am so sorry, Quinn. Gosh, I am so forgetful sometimes.” 

Tara peers over at you, a little confused. 

Oblivious idiot when it comes to girls, yes, but not with you. You see the question in her eyes and neglect to answer it. 

Quinn’s eyes harden, but she doesn’t dare give up the jig. Not in front of Tara.

“It’s fine,” She says, “Maybe you can have it for lunch.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” Tara says, a little absent minded as you wrap her jacket around her shoulders. 

You can tell she feels bad by the way she lingers. 

“We haven’t had a date night in a while, that’s all,” Tara explains. She wraps an arm around your waist and squeezes your hip, “Besides, I owe this one a dinner for taking such good care of me these last couple of days.” 

She presses a soft kiss to your lips, her brown eyes warm and shimmering. 

You can’t help the smile that snakes across your lips. 

Quinn crosses her arms, looking unhappy. 

“I seem to remember taking pretty good care of you,” She says, drawing Tara’s gaze, “Maybe you should be taking me out to dinner, too.” 

Tara’s eyebrows knit in confusion. She looks at you, a little helpless, like she’s suddenly aware she’s caught in a chess match she wasn’t aware she was playing. 

Bless her. 

Your poor, sweet, unsuspecting girlfriend. 

You squeeze her hand, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. 

“

“Did you get the feeling Quinn’s mad at me?” She asks, “Maybe we should have invited her to dinner. She did make me a lot of soup.” 

You tilt your wine glass to your lips, needing the rush of the alcohol to get you through this conversation. 

When you set it down, Tara’s blinking back at you, with wide, brown eyes. 

“Remember what we talked about a couple of weeks ago, babe?” You say, “About my conversation with Liv.” 

Tara nods. 

“And have you noticed it, this past couple of weeks?” You prompt, “Quinn flirting with you?” 

Tara tilts her head. 

“No.” 

“Tara, she touched your arm and called you strong,” You say, pinching the bridge of your nose. Quinn had gone to work earlier that day, blown a kiss goodbye to Tara as she’d left. 

Made sure you’d seen it. 

Tara shrugs, “I’ve been in the gym, babe, I’m getting stronger.”

She flexes her bicep. 

“Look, babe, that’s all muscle.” She says, proudly. 

“That’s not the point, Tara,” You say, “She’s flirting with you. She’s been flirting with you all week.” 

Tara frowns. 

“She has?” She asks, looking a little perplexed. 

Then, she pouts. 

“So she was just complimenting my lasagne because she wanted to sleep with me?” She says, looking put out, “I thought she really liked my new recipe.” 

“Forget about the lasagne, Tara, this is not okay.” You say, “How would you feel if she were hitting on me?”

Tara frowns. 

“Not good,” She admits, “Bad. Really, really bad.” 

You sigh, dropping your fork onto your plate. 

“She’s going to have to go,” You tell Tara, “If she can’t respect our relationship, she can get the fuck out.” 

Tara bites her lip. 

“Okay, babe,” She says, a little wary, “It’s just… rent is due next month and I don’t know how easy it’s going to be to replace her.”

She squeezes your hand, a little hasty as she sees the look on your face. 

“I’ll talk to her,” Tara says, leaning up to kiss you, “I’ll remind her I’m taken and not interested. And if she still tries it after that, she goes. How’s that, babe?” 

-

Tara’s talk with Quinn happens a little later. 

You climb into bed, head tilted as you hear the quiet murmur of their voices down the hall. It doesn’t sound heated, and you hear Quinn giggling as she tells Tara goodnight. 

You frown as Tara enters the room. 

“It’s just a misunderstanding, baby,” She says as she climbs into bed, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, “She doesn’t like me. She told me she’s just been a little clingier than usual because we’re her only friends.” 

“Babe-“ You start with a huff, ready to climb out of bed but Tara’s hands grip around your waist. 

“I know, I know, babe.” She assures, pressing another quick kiss to your neck, “I know you think it’s all bullshit so I told her straight up. I told her I’m in love with you and if she tries anything we’ll kick her straight out.” 

You frown, turning in her arms, “Really?” 

“Really.” Tara says, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, “And I promise to keep my distance, okay babe? She can flirt until the cows come home, it’s going to fall on deaf ears.” 

She snuggles into your chest, soothing your hammering heartbeat with a kiss. 

“I love you. Only you.” 

-

True to her word, Tara goes out of her way to avoid Quinn. 

Gone are their cozy little sessions on the couch watching horror movies. Tara refuses Quinn’s cooking, turns down each of Quinn’s requests to hang out, or help her with homework, or whatever other brainless task Quinn can think of to get them to spend time together. 

The rental market is fucked, you discover in the interim. 

No way can you and Tara afford to move out, and even if Quinn did leave, it could take months to replace her. 

“No,” Mindy says, point blank when you ask her, “Not unless you and Tara swear to a vow of celibacy.” 

You sigh, unhappily. 

“Great,” You say, slumping back into your seat, “We’re going to be stuck with her forever.” 

Mindy looks over at you, taking a little pity on you. 

“Why don’t you ask Chad and Liv?” She suggests, “They won’t be able to hear you fuck over Liv’s soap operas anyway.” 

“I already asked,” You say, voice gloomy, “They’re in a two year contract.” 

Mindy shoots you a sympathetic smile. 

“You’ll find someone,” She says, “You just need to put some feelers out there.” 

And so you do. 

You spend the morning in class writing up the ad. You’ll put in the paper tomorrow, you figure. 

When you get home, ready to avoid Quinn and spend a night snuggling in bed with Tara, Tara’s already at the door. 

“Hey babe,” Tara says, bouncing up to greet you with a kiss. She smiles, lowering her voice, “Missed you. Wanna shower with me?” 

You smile and kiss her. 

“You know we can’t,” You say, regretfully, “Last time we used up all the hot water.” 

“So let’s have a cold shower,” She suggests, her smile turning into a leer, “I’ve got other ways to warm you up.” 

“Izzie, how are you? It’s been ages!” Quinn sounds from the living room. Your smile drops - you didn’t realize she was home. Tara notices your face shift, and rubs your hip, comfortingly. 

“She’s been good, babe, I promise,” Tara says, “Are you sure you don’t want to shower with me?” 

“I’ll start dinner,” You say, leaning in to kiss her quickly, “You go, baby.” 

Quinn’s in the living room, lounging across the couch when you enter. 

“Yeah, I’ve never done it before,” Says Quinn. If she’s noticed you in the kitchen, she doesn’t acknowledge you. She kicks her shoes off and lays back into the couch, twirling her hair between her fingers. 

“I just can’t stop thinking about it. You know? I really want to try it.” 

You pull a few potatoes from the bag and pull out a knife. 

Just a little while longer, you think, trying to stop yourself from glancing over. Just a few more weeks of her and then you’d never have to see her again. 

Quinn looks over, catching your eye. 

As if she can tell you’re thinking about her. 

And then, she smiles. 

“I met a guy last night, took him home because he looked a little bit like her. Dark hair, dark eyes, short.” She says, her voice dropping to a quiet murmur, “Fucked his brains out imaging it was her on top of me. Inside me. And she will be. Soon.” 

She’s looking right at you. Her voice is a low taunt, daring you to take the bait. 

And you fall for it. 

Hook, line and sinker. 

You slam the knife to the kitchen counter, cheeks flushing red. 

“That’s it,” You growl as you launch at her, “You’re fucking dead, do you hear me?” 

Quinn stares a moment, her jaw slacking. 

As if she hadn’t realized her taunting would finally come to fruition. 

In the form of you launching to grab at the end of her hair. 

You tug at it, hard, determined to make the end of your fist meet the slant of her chin. She squeals, dropping her phone as you tug her towards you. 

“YN,” She cries, “Stop it, you’re fucking crazy-” 

“You think this is funny?” You growl, letting go of her hair to shove her back against the couch. You swing at her - and miss - and you know you must look crazed. All wild eyes, red-faced, three weeks of taunting finally setting you over the edge, “ You think trying to sleep with my girlfriend is a game?” 

“Tara!” Quin screams as you launch at her once more, “Tara, help!” 

Tara’s name on Quinn’s lips - if possible, just makes you angrier. You lunge over the couch, but she stands, squealing as she ducks your advances. 

You hear the bathroom door slam, and a flash of dark hair before you turn to see Tara, soaking wet, towel pressed around her torso. Her hair is soapy with shampoo and she looks dismayed as she looks at the sight in front of her. 

Quinn screaming like a child and you feral. Grabbing for her with all your might. 

“Baby?” She says, sounding scandalized, “What are you doing?” 

Quinn lets out a sob. Teary-eyed, she barrels over to Tara and stands behind her, grabbing at Tara’s arms as if she’s her knight in shining armor. 

“She’s attacking me, Tara,” Quinn blubbers out through her crocodile tears, “Make her stop, please.” 

“Oh, give it a rest, would you?” You say, voice harsh, “Tears? Really? Why don’t you tell Tara what you were saying about her on the phone, huh? Why don’t you be honest for once in your fucking life and tell her what you’ve been trying to do this entire time.” 

“I was talking about a girl from my Chemistry class,” Quinn says, as if you’re crazy, “Her name is Charlotte, I wasn’t talking about Tara.” 

“Oh, bullshit,” You scoff, “Just admit it. You’ve been all over Tara from day one.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, you crazy bitch,” Quinn says, “Look, just because you’re insecure, doesn’t mean I’m trying to sleep with your girlfriend.” 

“Enough,” Growls Tara. She wrenches her hand away from Quinn, turning to round on her. The anger within you dissipates slightly. You swallow as you’ve realized Quinn has inadvertently awoken The Rage. 

“Don’t you dare talk to her like that,” Tara says, her voice hot, “Don’t you fucking dare.” 

Quinn blinks at her. 

“Tara, it’s fine,” You say, hurriedly, “Babe, leave it.” 

And as much as you want to see Quinn get punched in the face, you don’t want The Rage to be the one to do it. 

You’d paid for too much therapy to see that fucker unleashed again. 

“Apologize,” Tara demands, her eyes flashing, “Apologize to her now.” 

You reach for Tara’s hand, tug her back towards you, out of Quinn’s reach. Her heart is racing,  her shoulders tight. You press your lips to her shoulder in an effort to soothe her. 

Quinn’s face contorts. You half think she’s about to spit right in your face. Maybe take a swing at you of her own. But then her face softens. 

“I’m sorry, YN,” She says, voice silky sweet, “It really was a misunderstanding. I think we’ve got off on the wrong foot. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I was trying to take your girlfriend from you. I’m not, I promise.” 

She sounds sincere, but you see right through her. 

“Alright,” Tara says, though her shoulders are still tight, “Good. Now I’m going to finish my shower, and the two of you are not going to kill each other. Right?” 

Quinn nods, solemnly. 

“Bedroom,” You tell Tara, “Now.” 

-

“She’s going,” Is the first thing you say as Tara shuts the door. You’re pacing back and forth, your skin burning hot and red, “She’s fucking gone, Tara. I mean it this time. I don’t care if we have to sleep on Mindy’s couch for the next three years, I am not spending another second with her-” 

Tara rubs her eyes. They’re a little red, stained with unwashed shampoo. 

“Baby, why don’t you sit down for a bit?” She suggests, “Look at you, you’re all worked up.” 

You turn to stare her down, anger flashing through your features. 

“She was talking about fucking you, Tara,” You hiss, “Right in front of me. She was talking about how she wanted you inside her.” 

Tara moves a little closer, trying to touch your arm. You shake her off to continue your pacing. 

“You’re mine,” You seethe, “I don’t know what part of that is so hard for her to understand.” 

“Baby-” Tara starts. 

“You’re not talking me out of this, Tara,” You snap, “I want her gone. Tonight.” 

Tara catches your arm. She draws you in for a long kiss. 

She’s trying to settle you down. 

It works.  

“I’m yours,” She says, softly, “Like I already told you, you don’t have to worry about her.” 

“You promised, Tara,” You say, voice agonized, “You promised if she tried anything else she’d be gone. And I swear to god, Tara - if you try to take her side-“  

Tara shushes you with another kiss. 

Then she draws back, her voice soft. 

“Of course I’m not going to take her side, sweetheart,” Tara says, “I’m your girlfriend. I’m always on your side. She’s going. You don’t have to ask twice.” 

This relaxes you a little. Tara presses another lingering kiss to your lips. 

“Like hell we’re sleeping on Mindy’s couch, though,” Tara says, crinkling her brow, “Sam can lend us the money. She won’t mind.” 

Sam might mind. 

But it’s really the least of your worries. 

“Thank you,” You say, sighing as you lean into Tara’s chest. 

Tara squeezes your shoulders. 

“Let me finish my shower,” She says, “And then I’ll talk to her.” 

She eyes you, warily. 

“Maybe you should take a walk or something, babe,” She says, after a moment of hesitation. She brushes your cheek, “You’re all red in the face.” 

You frown. 

“If you think I’m leaving you here with that sexed-up-piranha-” You start with a growl, and Tara draws her arms back around your shoulders. 

“Alright, alright,” She concedes, “It’s okay, babe, we’ll do it together.” 

But by the time Tara’s out of the shower, Quinn is long gone. 

You spend the night seething, not even Tara’s gentle kisses enough to coax you out of your mood.

In the morning, you hunt through the apartment like a lion hungry for its prey but she’s nowhere in sight. 

She’s stupid enough to try you, but not so stupid enough to hang around for the fallout. 

When you head off to class, Tara reassures you with a gentle squeeze of your hand.

“She’ll be back here at some point,” Tara says, “As soon as I see her I’ll tell her to pack her bags.”

Economics flashes by in a rage-filled trance. You don’t even bother with your marketing paper. You’re worked up. 

You just want her gone. 

And so you skip the rest of your morning classes and head home.

You don’t bother smiling at the doorman, fish your keys out of your pocket in a grump. 

When you get to the door, you tilt your key in the lock, fiddling around to pry the door open. 

And then you hear it. 

A cry - it’s Tara, and then you hear Quinn. She’s squealing again. You blink. Your mind runs rampant with the possibilities. 

Tara with her knife, plowing through Quinn with the kind of ire only The Rage can bring. 

Tara grunts, and it’s familiar. Your stomach lurches. You might be sick. 

You know that grunt. 

The indicator Tara might be plowing Quinn in a much different fashion. 

Betrayal sinks deep within your veins. You fumble with the door, almost pry it off its hinges in your effort to barge through it. 

It swings open, and the lump in your throat grows with the thought of what you might find on the other side of the door. 

But what you see isn’t what you expect. 

You blink. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight in front of you. 

“Tara,” You hiss as your jaw drops, “What are you doing?” 

Tara has Quinn in a firm grip. Her legs are wrapped tight around Quinn’s waist, she has Quinn’s head between her arms in a chokehold. Quinn’s eyes are wide. She struggles desperately against Tara’s grip, eyes bulging as she tries to wrangle her way out. 

The scene in front of you would be comical, if it weren’t real. 

But it’s very real. 

Quinn looks over to you the moment Tara does. 

The sound of your voice is her escape. 

Tara turns to you, grip lessening only slightly as she realizes your presence. Her brown eyes widen, the way they do when she knows she’s in trouble. 

Quinn pulls herself out of Tara’s grip with a heavy gasp, almost shoving Tara to the floor. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Quinn says, voice high as she stands, “Are you actually serious right now?” 

“Explain, Tara,” You say, voice flat, “Now.” 

Tara looks over to you, eyes wide. She splutters as she speaks. 

“She tried to kiss me, babe,” Tara says, voice aghast, “She tried to kiss me and I didn’t know what else to do.” 

Quinn’s breathing heavily. 

She’s scary like this. Thundering over Tara’s tiny frame like she might snap her in two. 

“I throw myself at you and your first reaction is karate?” Quinn says to Tara. Her eyes are wild. She’s pissed, “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Tara fires back, “I have a girlfriend.” 

You throw your bag to the ground. The heavy, unsettled feeling that’s stayed with you for the last three weeks is boiling. If Quinn doesn’t leave now, there’s no telling what you’ll do next. 

“Get out,” You tell Quinn, “You don’t live here anymore. Get your shit and go.” 

Quinn doesn’t move. 

“Get out,” You insist, “Before I kill you myself.” 

Quinn shoots an angry look at Tara, before redirecting it at you. 

“Fine,” She says, “You two deserve each other. Fucking Jackie Chan and Princess Prissy-”

“Out.” You snap as she grabs her purse. 

She shoots you an angry glare. 

“You can forget about rent,” She sneers, “And good luck finding someone else to live in this shitty apartment.” 

Your palms are sweating as she slams the front door shut. 

Tara looks up at you, eyes still wide, a little sheepish as you close in on her. 

“I didn’t kiss her babe, I swear,” Tara promises, leaning up to grab your hands, “She leaned in and I grabbed her before she could get close.” 

“I know you didn’t, babe,” You say after a long moment. Your voice softens. You brush her dark hair out of her eyes, “I know.” 

She’s quiet a moment. 

“I’m sorry that we didn’t kick her out sooner,” She says, “I really did just think she was trying to be my friend.” 

You sigh. Tilt your face to hers. 

“I know, babe,” You say, then you snort, “I can’t believe you put her in a headlock. Sam’s going to love that.” 

Tara pouts.

“She deserved it,” She says, “And speaking of Sam…” 

She looks up at her, eyes shimmering. 

“I talked to her about the rent,” Tara murmurs after a moment, “She agreed to help us out.” 

“Oh?” You say. A spark of hope sears deep within your chest. 

Tara bites her lip, “There’s a catch, though. She’s going to come live with us until we find a new roommate.” 

“Oh.” You say with a frown. 

“You’re not mad, are you?” Tara asks, a little hesitant, “I’d tell her no, but we’re really in a pinch, babe.” 

“It’s fine,” You say, after a moment, “I don’t mind living with Sam.” 

Tara hums. She leans in close against you. 

“And hey,” You nudge her, trying to keep the mood light, “At least I don’t have to worry about Sam trying to get into your pants.” 

Tara wrinkles her nose. 

You laugh. 

Lean down to kiss her, deep. 

Fuck you Quinn Bailey, you can’t help but think. 

You hope she enjoyed her little game.

Because when it comes to Tara, you never lose.

[wooattackrr]

A Change Of Heart

MDNI

collegestudent!reader x jerk!mingyu

wc: 2.4k

a/n: sorry for not posting in a while !

——————————————————————

In the bustling halls of Yonsei University, Mingyu seemed to be the epitome of the perfect jerk. His charming smile could light up a room, and his playful banter had a way of making girls swoon. Yet, behind that charismatic facade, he was arrogant, impulsive, and, frankly, a complete pain. Your friends would often roll their eyes, sharing knowing glances as he strutted around, acting like he owned the place. You, however, remained immune to his charms. Or so you thought.

"Mingyu's at it again," Jenna, your best friend, whispered, elbowing you as she pointed toward the crowd where Mingyu and his friends were causing a ruckus.

You observed him from a distance, standing in the center of his entourage like a king among peasants. It made your blood boil. "Why does he even try?" you mumbled, shaking your head.

"Because he's Mingyu," Jenna replied, giggling as she watched him turn his attention toward you. "He has a soft spot for you, you know."

“More like a bullseye,” you retorted, crossing your arms. You could feel his gaze prickling against you like a heatwave.

Mingyu sauntered over, a confident grin plastered across his face. "Hey, why so serious? You should lighten up," he said, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes. "Maybe because you're annoying."

"Ouch. That stings!" he laughed, feigning hurt. "Come on, don’t tell me you’re still mad about last week when I beat you at that game?"

You shook your head. "It's not just that, Mingyu. You’re a jerk, and your tricks don’t work on me."

"Tricks? Me? I’m just being charming," he winked, leaning closer as if sharing a sweet secret.

Your heart raced, but you swallowed the flutter and stood your ground. "Trust me, it’s not charming. It’s just… sad."

“Sad? Think of it as my unique way of showing interest,” he retorted playfully, undeterred.

His friends snickered behind him as you felt frustration bubble within. “You know what? Just leave me alone. I’m not interested in jerks, no matter how charming they think they are.”

A beat of silence fell between the two of you, the subtle tension crackling in the air. Mingyu’s smirk faltered, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of something else in his eyes—hurt?

“Okay,” he replied quietly, backing away. "If that’s what you want…"

For a moment, you felt a pang of regret. But you brushed it aside. You couldn’t allow yourself to get caught in his games. You turned on your heel and walked away, heart pounding, but relieved to finally stand up to him.

The next few days passed in a haze. You tried to focus on your studies and hobbies, but your mind kept wandering back to the encounter with Mingyu. Your friends noticed the change in your mood, and Jenna was quick to bring it up.

“Are you okay? You seem a little… off,” she probed one lunch break.

“Honestly, I just—I’m so done with Mingyu’s antics,” you confessed, stabbing your fork into your salad. “He thinks he can charm me just because he’s popular. It’s exhausting.”

“I get it, but you have to admit, he’s persistent. He must really like you,” Jenna replied, a teasing lilt in her voice.

“Who cares? I’ve told him no, and I mean it.”

But, as the week dragged on, you began to notice you missed him—his obnoxious confidence, the banter, even the way he could make you laugh despite your better judgment. The tension was palpable, and it surprised you how much you longed for his presence.

Then, one afternoon, as you left your last class, you unexpectedly ran into Mingyu by the lockers. He stood there, leaning against the metal frame, arms crossed, looking a bit lost.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice softer than usual.

You hesitated but replied, “Hey.”

“You… okay?” He glanced away, avoiding your gaze. It was unlike his usual bravado.

“I’m fine,” you replied, trying to sound disinterested, even as you felt a rush of emotion stirring within you.

“Listen, about what you said the other day…” he began, pushing himself off the locker and straightening. “I really didn’t mean to come off as a jerk. I was just trying to, well, get your attention.”

“Well, you’ve got it,” you shot back, surprising even yourself.

He run a hand through his hair in frustration. “Can we start over? I promise I won’t be a jerk. I want to show you I can be… better.”

You held his gaze, searching for sincerity in his words. There was something about his earnestness that pulled at you, and for the first time, you wondered if perhaps you had misjudged him.

“Okay,” you conceded, a small smile creeping up your lips against your will. “But no more ‘charming’ attempts, Mingyu. Just be yourself.”

He grinned, and you felt an inexplicable warmth at the corners of your heart. Maybe, just maybe, his intentions were more genuine than you had thought.

As the days turned into weeks, you and Mingyu started spending more time together. He seemed to put in genuine effort to show you a side of him that was softer and more thoughtful—no more cocky comments or arrogance. One evening, while studying at a local café, you found yourself laughing freely, truly enjoying his company.

You placed your pencil down, wiping tears of laughter from your eyes. “I can’t believe you actually did that!” You giggled, recalling one of his ridiculous childhood stories.

“Hey, I was just a kid!” he defended, chuckling along. “But it’s who I am now. I’m trying to show you that I’m not just some jerk.”

“And I appreciate it,” you replied softly, the intimacy of the moment washing over you.

There was a moment of silence, a palpable tension enveloping you both as his gaze locked onto yours, that same old spark of chemistry igniting once again. Unlike before, it didn’t feel antagonistic. This time, it felt warm—inviting.

“Can I… kiss you?” he asked suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper. The vulnerability in his question caught you off guard.

“Yes,” you breathed, your heart racing as he leaned in. The moment his lips touched yours, it felt electric. It was soft and tentative, but there was an urgency buried beneath it, a longing to bridge the gap that had held you apart for so long.

As the kiss deepened, you melted against him, feeling everything you had held back; the sweetness of his charm and the warmth of his body enveloping you as he pulled you into his arms.

“Wanna go to my place?”

Mingyu leaned in, his lips tracing a scorching path along your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin just below your ear. You arched your back, gasping at the sensation, your nails digging into the couch cushions. His hands roamed down your body, unbuttoning your shirt with a deftness that spoke of his eagerness, yet never once breaking the spell of his kisses. Each button released was a whispered promise of what was to come, each inch of skin revealed a new chapter in the story of your desire.

When your shirt was open, he took a moment to appreciate the sight of you, his eyes devouring the curves of your body as if you were a masterpiece. He cupped your breasts gently, his thumbs brushing over the hardened peaks, eliciting a soft whimper from your lips. You could feel your body responding to his touch, your skin tightening with need, your nipples begging for more. He leaned down, capturing one with his mouth, his tongue flicking and teasing as you threaded your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer.

He stood, pulling you up with him, and you stepped out of your shoes, the cool floor a stark contrast to the heat of his skin. He guided you down the hallway, his hand on the small of your back, a silent promise that he would lead you to where you both wanted to be. The bedroom door creaked open, revealing a space bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. The scent of vanilla filled the air, a sweet aroma that seemed to envelop you both as you stepped over the threshold. The bed was large and inviting, the sheets a crisp white that starkly contrasted with the dark tones of the room.

Mingyu turned to face you, his eyes dark with lust. He took your hand and led you to the edge of the bed, his other hand unbuckling his belt, his sweatpants falling to the floor. He was beautiful in his vulnerability, his need for you mirrored in every line of his body. You reached for the button of your own pants, but he stopped you, a smoldering smile playing on his lips. "Let me," he murmured, his voice a seductive caress that had you melting into a puddle of desire. He knelt before you, his eyes never leaving yours as he unzipped your pants and pulled them down, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin of your thighs.

The anticipation was unbearable, the tension between you a living, breathing entity that demanded to be sated. You stepped out of your pants, leaving you in nothing but your underwear, which he took his sweet time removing. His eyes raked over your naked body, a silent testament to his appreciation. He kissed his way up your legs, each kiss leaving a mark of fire, until he reached the juncture of your thighs. You felt yourself growing wetter, your body ready and willing for his touch. He paused, looking up at you with a question in his eyes, and you nodded, unable to form words.

With a gentle tug, he removed your panties, tossing them aside. His hands slid up your thighs, his fingers tracing the sensitive skin, before he leaned in and kissed you intimately. The sensation was overwhelming, a jolt of pleasure that had you gripping the bedpost for support. He took his time, exploring every inch of you with his mouth, his tongue dipping and swirling in a dance that had your knees threatening to give out. You could feel your orgasm building, a crescendo that grew louder with each passing second.

Finally, unable to wait any longer, you pushed him away and climbed onto the bed, pulling him with you. He didn't resist, his own need clear in the way he kissed you, his hands roaming over your body with an urgency that matched yours. You reached for the hem of his boxers, pulling them down and freeing his erection. You took him in your hand, marveling at his size, before guiding him to your entrance. He hovered there for a moment, his eyes searching yours, and then with a deep, guttural groan, he pushed into you, filling you completely.

The sensation was like nothing you had ever felt before, a perfect union of bodies and souls that had you crying out his name. He moved slowly at first, giving your body time to adjust to his size, his movements deliberate and measured. Each thrust was a declaration of his desire, a silent promise that he would give you everything you needed. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him deeper. His hands found your hips, holding you in place as he picked up the pace, his rhythm setting the beat to the symphony of your passion.

The sound of your skin slapping against his filled the room, a primal music that seemed to resonate with the very walls. The bed rocked beneath you, a testament to the intensity of your love making. You could feel your climax approaching, a tingling in your toes that traveled up your spine and exploded in your core. Mingyu's eyes never left yours, his gaze holding you captive as he brought you to the edge and pushed you over. You screamed his name, your nails digging into his back as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you.

He followed you, his own release a powerful crescendo that had his body tensing and his eyes rolling back in his head. He collapsed onto you, his breath hot against your neck, his heart pounding in time with yours. For a moment, you lay there, tangled in the sheets, lost in the aftermath of your shared ecstasy. The candlelight flickered, casting shadows across the room that danced over your sweat-slicked skin.

As your breathing slowly returned to normal, Mingyu rolled over, pulling you with him so that you were nestled in the crook of his arm. He kissed the top of your head, his hand tracing idle patterns on your back. "I've wanted this for so long," he murmured, his voice a warm rumble in the quiet of the room. You snuggled closer, feeling his words resonate deep within you. This moment, this connection, was everything you had ever hoped for.

You whispered your own confession into the darkness, your voice a soft, contented sigh. "Me too." The words hung in the air, a promise of more nights like this, more moments of unbridled passion and love. He tightened his hold on you, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair. "We have all the time in the world," he said, his voice filled with certainty. And in that moment, as the candles burned low and the night stretched out before you, it felt like you truly did.

——————————————————————

fuck ta3il

[yume-kui]

“you should start keeping a diary. it’d be a cute hobby, don’t you think?”

dan heng pauses, and the brush he’s pulling gently through your hair comes to a rather abrupt stop against your scalp. it only takes him a half-breath to come back to his bearings and continue.

“i don’t see how that’s necessary,” he responds after another moment of quiet. “everything that i could need to record is in the archives already.”

you hum. the current positions the two of you occupy are familiar: seated on the pile of blankets he calls a bed, you cross-legged in front of him, facing away so he can brush your hair. there’s a soft intimacy—domesticity, even—to it that never fails to set off butterflies in your stomach. you’ve told him so countless times. he must be sick of hearing it by now, but he never tells you to stop, so you don't.

“well, there’s a vidyadhara thing for it, isn’t there?” you pick idly at your fingernails as you talk. “that they keep journals for their reincarnations. aren’t there things in this life that you want to bring into the next one?”

dan heng is silent again, but his brushing continues. his movements are careful, deliberate as they work through the tangles and knots.

your reasons for making such a suggestion are simple. for as much as dan heng dedicates himself to recording information about the universe, he’s nearly allergic to writing down anything about himself. you wonder if it’s a deep-seated anxiety from the sins of his past life—really, the origins are none of your business, but you worry for him. you do. with how hard he’s tried in this life, he deserves to find some measure of happiness, divorced from the traumas wrought by yinyue jun and the countless aftershocks that follow him still.

you’d like for him to have some memories he deems worthy of bringing with him into the next life for a change.

on a less selfless note, dan heng always looks good with a book in his hand. even more so if he’s the one doing the writing.

“i suppose that you make a good point,” he says at last. every word is slow, deliberately enunciated in the way he does when he’s deep in thought. he slides the brush through your hair one last time and then he's lowering his arm, satisfied with his work. his hand brushes your shoulder on the way down. it makes you shiver.

“of course i do,” you reply, puffing your chest out a bit for emphasis. “plus, if you write anything about me, it’ll make it easier for us to find each other in our next lives. well, i’ll take a while, but it’d be worth it, don’t you think?”

quiet falls again.

you turn around to face dan heng. it’s not unusual for him to get a little lost in his head when discussing his lives—past, present, and future all—but something heavier has settled in the air. you hope you haven’t upset him.

when you meet his eyes, he looks… wistful, almost. there’s a soft smile curving his lips up, even as some emotion you can’t put a name to swims in his gaze. gently, so gently, he brushes a lock of hair out of your face.

“yes,” dan heng says, “it would be.”

[smusherina]

bridges burnt - chapter 3 [epilogue series] (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: When an invitation to Gretchen Wieners' wedding ended up in your mailbox, you'd been sure it was a mistake. Only, it read your name in neat, swoopy calligraphy. It was addressed to you. And Regina George, whom you hadn't spoken to in years.

additional clarification: This is set in the universe of yard work, a series of mine that can be found on my page! Reading this one might be a bit challenging without the context of the series :)

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 4

You were leaning against the wall, an unlit cigarette in your mouth. Nicotine was the only substance you hadn't been able to cut off entirely. You smoked less now and were trying to quit, but it wasn't quite so easy. You had made a promise to smoke only once a day. This would be your third if you lit up.

"Need a light?" Janis rounded the corner, already inhaling. The scent of the smoke solved your dilemma. Fuck it. She exhaled as she extended her lighter to you. An old zippo. It was gold-ish in colour, engraved with shapes that were wearing away. You were pretty sure if she were to sell it, she'd get several hundred for it.

"Thanks." Maybe this was the universe telling you that it'd be okay. Just today. Just today, you could smoke all the goddamned cigarettes you wanted.

"When'd you and Regina get back together?" Janis leaned against the porch railing across from you. Behind her was a pretty hillside that led down into a thick forest. The sky was grey and not much light penetrated the dense clouds, making the woods look that much grimmer. You'd rather be there than here.

"A while ago." You might've not seen her in years but you knew when she was plotting something. That kiss out in the open like that was a clue, a wordless message she trusted you to get on your own. You were together. You didn't know what she was playing at or why you were going along with it. Probably old habits.

Janis snorted. "Romantic. Mia would kill me if I said we've been together for a while."

"Get off my dick, Janis," You snapped unnecessarily. You didn't want to be on the spot like this. You couldn't give many details and risk contradicting Regina.

(Why couldn't you? Why didn't you say, "Oh, hey, actually we're not together" instead of, once more, following her example like a good dog.)

"Jeez, I was just asking. Trouble in paradise? Sure didn't seem that way." She wiggled her eyebrows at you. You wished you hadn't lit up the cig so you could just walk away.

"We're fine. Why's your Mia not here?" You assumed that was her partner.

"I didn't get a plus one." She shrugged. "Besides, not sure she could've gotten out of work. They're doing a merger, or something."

"She's the breadwinner then and you're what? A tortured artist?"

"What you don't realize, my friend, is that I'm winning here. I have a beautiful wife who makes money like a printer, has a 401k and air-tight insurance, and works nine to five while I get to paint my little paintings all day." Janis took a drag. "And she fucks me good."

You groaned. "Janis, please."

"Meanwhile you act like you're better than me when, in fact, I'm happy and you're miserable." She finished off with a snarky smile.

Once upon a time, you'd fantasized about staying in the garage all day, fixing old cars as a hobby, and greeting Regina when she got home from her Real Adult Job, wearing a sexy pantsuit and carrying a mysterious briefcase.

Not anymore. You wore the suits, you carried the briefcase, and you did not fix old cars as a hobby.

"You should give motivational speeches. Think Northshore would love to have you back." You took a deep drag. Deflecting with sarcasm was cheap but effective.

"You think?" Her smile softens. "Seriously, though, how've you been?"

"It's been... Good." It had been good recently. You knew, though, that Janis was asking about the last ten years and not just your week. If you were to compile a list of all the good and bad things from that long a time period, one would be perhaps a page and the other a several-foot scroll. Respectively.

"Wow. I forgot how close-lipped you are." Janis said. You could tell she was disappointed. You'd never been friends, not really, not ever like her and Damian, but there was an understanding between you.

You let up.

"We got back together after college." You swallowed, trodding on eggshells, being as vague as possible. "I was cleaning up my act, trying to get away from it all. Moved back into town and met Regina coincidentally. Rest is history, I suppose." You eyed the hills. The view turned into misty nothingness before you could tell if it was the ocean there or more land.

"I heard your dad passed," Janis said, blunt but not mean. "Sorry to hear that."

"Yeah, I guess." You rubbed your forehead. It wasn't tactful to tell a near-stranger that you weren't actually all that upset about it. "To be honest, it was a long time coming. He was in bad shape."

He'd gotten ill when you were in college. At first, all the business stuff was being handled by his team but as more and more time passed and he showed no signs of getting better, he started nagging you to do more for the company.

What the fuck you were gonna do? You didn't know shit about business and, besides, were high out of your mind half the time. You didn't want any of it, didn't want his blood money and shady practices. But you were gonna get it.

Now, you could say you had things under control. Somewhat. You sold some locations, passed them off to people better suited, and sure, lost some money in the process but you weren't ambitious like your dad had been.

If it was up to you, you'd keep the one shop you'd always worked at and make an honest, humble living the remainder of your days. Start a project you could work on for the next several years and be content.

"Sorry to hear that." Janis stumped her cigarette on the ground. You did the same, dropping the stub and snuffing it out with your shoe.

"Well." You sighed. "I'm not."

With that, you turned and walked back towards the doors leading into the hall. Janis followed behind you.

People were still mingling around the place, the bride and groom yet to make an entrance. Your table was somewhere in the middle, not one of the important ones but with a clear view of the stage and where the important people were meant to be sitting.

The mother of the bride was eyeing the room like a hawk scanning for prey. Her eyes didn't catch yours but you could tell she was keen on Janis. The all-black ensemble stood out almost as much as Regina's white stole.

Speaking of her. She was sitting and chatting with Shane, seeming cool and casual. Damian was there too, engaged and laughing at the right parts.

You approached deliberately slowly, trying to hear what they were talking about before you sat down.

"-came back to town after college and we hit it off." She turned her head slightly and made eye contact with you. "Baby," She greeted you.

You cleared your throat, suddenly feeling warm. "Reg," You sat down and, as casually as you could, draped an arm over the back of her chair.

"I was just telling Shane how we met." Her sharp eyes met yours. "What'd you tell Janis?"

You needed to get your stories straight. Act natural. It was sheer luck you'd both set the same timeline.

"I was just telling her how we met up after college. If I remember correctly, wasn't it, uh, at uh..." You fumbled. "The grocery store?"

"Yes, mom saw you and I'm sure she didn't let you leave without a date set for when you'd come to dinner." Regina finished for you. Shane was buying it, slowly crawling out of his shell. You were quickly realizing that the gay people had all been shoved to one table. Hopefully, that didn't bode anything.

"That's Mrs George for you." You knew it was Ms now but old habits die hard.

Regina smiled at you, hand coming to rest on your knee. You shivered. It scared you how genuine she seemed. She could be awarded an Oscar for this shit.

You watched her, really looked at her. She was still so beautiful. She'd always been pretty beyond belief, gorgeous like a movie star, but the confidence she carried with herself now made it all a stunning, deadly combination.

Even so, you couldn't help feeling melancholy. You hadn't seen any of it, certainly were not the reason for it, and chances were this little scheme she was cooking up was at your expense. She had every right to seek vengeance against you.

You wondered if it was worth it to try and enjoy it. Would it hurt to dream a little? You could use a break from practicality.

You closed your eyes for a moment.

"Baby?" Your eyes fluttered open as her hand came to caress your cheek. You leaned into the touch.

"Yeah?" You asked and tilted forward, closer to her. Regina mirrored you, putting a hand on your knee and leaning some of her weight on it as her lips neared yours.

"Just focus on me," She grinned and you resisted the urge to steal a kiss. "Trust me."

"Always." You whispered, reverent in just the same way you used to be. You'd known it for a long time, the irresistible fate you'd sworn yourself to, that you'd go back to her every time.

"Ehem," Someone cleared their throat behind you. You went to look but Regina kept a hold on you. She placed a languid kiss on your lips, sending your mind into orbit, before turning towards the person so rudely invading your bubble.

"Yes?" She almost hissed, smiling in a way that was more like a threat. All teeth and sharp edges.

"The bride and groom are about to enter, so it would be really, really nice if you two could can it for a few moments, 'kay? Thanks!" The maid of honour chirped, voice so high pitched you had to wonder if she was inhaling helium on her off-time.

Regina watched her scurry away, eyes going up and down her retreating back in a manner that surely should've made you jealous. You knew, though, that for one, Regina didn't like girls that wore dresses and, secondly, that she was up to something. She wasn't checking out the maid of honour—she wished—but evaluating her.

"What a bitch, right?" Regina turned to the rest of the table with a sneer on her face.

You bit your cheek to hide a smile as everybody agreed. This was going to be utter shit. Total, absolute chaos with a side of heartbreak and, potentially, a ruined wedding.

You dreaded it. You anticipated it. Both could be true at once.

Notes: Hello all! Been some time! I've been in my summer groove, having a proper vacation. It's been liberating. Hopefully there's some interested readers for this series :) Taglist posted separately! If you want to be added, comment on that post please.

[olderthannetfic]

A common argument I see against constructive or negative opinions (even in For Readers spaces now apparently 🙄) is that they crush people's dreams of being a writer.

And like. I have diagnosed issues with rejection sensitivity, so sharing my work publicly was extremely difficult for me at first. But it was just something I had to get through if I wanted to be a writer. When I was in a university level creative writing class, I was stunned that they wasted a seminar teaching us stuff like you're/your and there/their/they're until I noticed that my classmates found it really useful. I realised 00s fandom taught me better grammar than the actual official school system, say nothing of charactisation, voice, pacing, etc. There were a LOT of resources to help new writers understand writing 101 and avoid annoying mistakes/cliché plots, which you don't really see anymore. I honestly feel like I got an expensive years long creative writing course for free.

And even as a melodramatic and oversensitive tween, I always had the attitude that I wanted my writing to be good, so if people pointed out typos or grammar mistakes I'd just thank them, fix it and remember for next time??? I never once felt "bullied" by legitimate criticism: as someone who actually was bullied a lot IRL, 00s fandom was actually one of the few spaces where I felt comfortable and safe. Whereas tbh I don't always feel comfortable with this modern culture where fanfic writers demand comments in return for creating "content" "for free" but setting strict demands for what kind of comments they want to receive. (And ofc it's for free! It's not their intellectual property!)

Which is all to say, if someone telling you "hey, maybe consider adding paragraph breaks" makes you want to quit writing forever then maybe you didn't actually want to be a writer all that much.

--

I think people mix a whole bunch of dissimilar things.

If you go to art/film/etc. school, you'll need to get used to group critique. It's partly about advice, but a lot of it is about toughening you up for future situations where your audience is not going to care about why a work isn't up to their standards. I think some of these practices actually can be pretty damaging. It really depends on the professor to make them constructive.

A key element is that people who are going through that are usually supposed to already have some experience and be pretty committed, so they aren't going to shrivel up and quit.

When I was a little baby writer, I was indeed pretty sensitive. Even while trying to finish the first draft of a novel, I need cheerleading or maybe goading to put my ass in a chair. The hard part is getting the words out, not making them good. So a lot of negative shit, even if well meant and useful, would just be discouraging.

But...

There's a big difference between having no interest in back seat driving from AO3 comments and opposing all review-ish conversation anywhere, whether it's bookmarks or discord servers or other archives that have more of a culture of reviews than of comments for the author.

I think you can want to improve but not want to do it via AO3 comments. You should still leave readers to do their thing outside of your comments though. Analyzing or reviewing can be a big part of someone's own fannish activity—a positive and fun hobby for them, not just an excuse to yell at the writer.

[xo-hugs-n-kisses-ox]

Rumination

Ruminate

(v.) To think about something deeply

After Edward left her, Bella Swan fell apart. Desperate to try and save his eldest daughter, Charlie brings his youngest daughter to Forks to see if she can bring her sister out of her depression.

Now, y/n must try to help her sister find her way back to the light while also trying to navigate her Junior year of high school in the odd town of Forks.

---

Chapter Eleven: Contemplation

Now Playing: Salt And The Sea by The Lumineers

Paul and I went to Port Angeles today. Bella was hanging out around Emily’s, and I was still sore with her. Like the first time she showed back up, Paul had taken my keys, grabbed my purse, and snagged me to whisk me away somewhere that would take my mind off my anger with my older sister.

We had seen a movie today. It was some crappy action movie, but it made me laugh.

We got lunch afterwards, sitting in my truck as we ate.

I don’t know why I decided to do it. Maybe it was how he shared about his dad, but I started rambling about Charlie and Renee.

“My parents were high school sweethearts,” I blurted, “They were together all four years. They got married as soon as they were both eighteen, and had my sister soon after.”

I studied my sandwich as I spoke, avoiding looking at anything else.

“The pregnancy was hard on my mom. She had postpartum depression bad, the only thing she could manage to do was feed my sister when she cried.” I recalled the stories Mom had said, her voice light and joking. I had always seen the pain behind her eyes as she remembered.

I continued, “Dad worked long hours at the station to try and cover bills, pay back the hospital, and scrounge up dinner. Mom got better after a while, but she lost some of her spark.”

“They had me about a year later. I think it was to fix the marriage.” I slowly take a sip of my slushie, thinking. I continue on, “Didn’t work, obviously. They lasted three more years before Mom grabbed us and fled Forks for California.”

I look at Paul from the corner of my eye, and he’s already looking at me. I feel like the breath is being punched out of me, his attentive silence making my heart pound.

I take a deep breath, steam-rolling on.

“They divorced. Charlie gave her almost everything she wanted. He still loved her so much. I think he still does,” I admit, “But not as someone loves their spouse. I think it’s more a mourning and appreciation for what they used to be, what they used to have. Mom’s always been a, uh, free spirit. She’s gone through hobbies and boyfriends like I go through clothes day to day. She tires of them, then goes looking for the next one to hold her interest.”

“I—” I cut myself off, organizing my jumbled thoughts for a moment, “My friends have goals in life, milestones they want to achieve. Graduation, university, marriage, kids, grandkids, retirement. It all sounds nice, but marriage never had a solid meaning for me. I saw how easily it could break. Nearly forty-eight percent of marriages end in divorce, according to Bella.”

I was quiet for a long moment before murmuring, “So I maybe that if you have an issue with expression your emotions, I’m sure I have an issue with pessimism.”

He was quiet for a good moment, and I was afraid that maybe I said too much. Then, without a word, he reached out and put his heavy hand on my shoulder. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes and leaning my head against his knuckles.

---

Edward bribed Alice into kidnapping my sister for two days so she wouldn’t visit Jacob. I sprayed Jacob’s cologne in her vents and her clothes.

It was a nice enough day, and I had gone for a hike. Jacob, while patrolling, had come by a few times to check on me. Sam had, also, and around noon was when Paul showed up.

His hulking wolf form no longer startled me, and I wordlessly passed him the bacon I had saved from this morning. He huffed, taking it delicately from my hand and sitting down beside me.

“I heard Quil imprinted,” I told him, having heard from Jake. “I’m happy for him, Jake said she’s a girl from his school, too, in the class beside his.”

Paul remained quietly looking out at the scenery with me, but he tilted his head towards me to hear better.

“Though, I’m still confused on the whole imprinting thing,” I admitted, “I asked Emily and Sam, but they didn’t give me a clear answer about it.”

At my words, Paul turned fully to look at me. I stared back, wondering what he was thinking. He huffed, sounding like he was sighing, before nudging me up and back towards the trail.

The two of us walked back to the house for dinner, and I went inside while he went over to the shed to change back. Bella was over, apparently rescued by Jacob, and I looked at her for a long moment before Embry drew me into conversation.

I won’t lie and say I didn’t miss my sister. I did. Desperately. But I was still hurt that she would choose the Cullens over her own family.

Lunch was normal. We had burgers again, since there was a sale on ground beef, and everything felt like it did in February.

I clung to this shred of normalcy, fearful of when it would no longer be an option.

---

My allusion of normalcy was shattered when Bella went right back to Edward as soon as the hunting trip was over. Jacob had stormed back in and told me that she still thought it was none of our business what happened to her, that she was still set on becoming undead.

I didn’t have the energy to cry, or to yell. I didn’t even have the energy to be surprised.

Jacob had stormed back out at my lack of reaction, and I watched him go passively. I sighed.

I slept for most of the day, woken up around noon by a call.

“Hello?” I asked, my voice raspy from sleep. I rubbed my eyes, taking a deep breath to try and wake up.

“Y/n, a vampire was at the house. Not Victoria, someone new. I need you to tell the pack that, and—” my sister hurriedly explained, and I woke up quickly with her explanation.

Tipping out of my bed, I ran back towards the living room.

“Sam—” I started, nearly falling over when I scrambled around the corner, “Sam, a new vampire was at my house, Edward smelled it!”

Immediately, Jacob was reaching for my phone. He spoke into it quickly, interrogating my sister and Edward. They decided that I would stay here, still, and that Jacob would go see if he recognized the scent since Carlisle didn’t.

I waited anxiously for a verdict, and Sam started drafting new patrol routines.

Bella sent a text after a while, Possible murderer in Seattle, maybe linked. Let you know more when I do.

“I can’t believe this shit,” I muttered, “Why can’t this nightmare be over yet?”

---

We had a bonfire tonight. Bella was driven over by Edward, and I gave him a long look when I collected her. Emily was with me, grabbing her bags as I held my sister’s hand. The three of us traveled down to the beach, and we set her things down at our blanket.

Bella was sitting on a log across me, Jacob leaning on her knees from his seat on the sand.

He was idly roasting a hotdog, bickering with Paul over it. He relented, though, handing the skewer over to him. He took it, putting it on a bun and reached for condiments.

Embry tried to sneak a bite of it, only to get Paul’s massive hand shoving his face away. In his distraction, I reached around him to pinch off a piece of it, popping it in my mouth as he turned to scowl at me.

I smiled at him, handing him the ketchup. He rolled his eyes, dressing his hotdog and eating it quickly.

When he was finished, he leaned back against the log I was sitting on and told me, “Tell Bella to sit down wind next time, all I smell is Leech.”

I snort, “What does it smell like, anyway?”

He thought for a moment, putting words together, “Like dust, but in an old folk’s home.”

I laugh, overjoyed at the revelation.

I was about to speak again when Billy cleared his throat to begin telling stories.

———

Hey guys! Sorry for the super late update, today was actually hell 🫠 school sucks and I hate it but whatevs I guess

Anyway, hope you guys enjoy!! I’ll likely update again over the weekend bc I’ll be traveling tmr 💕

Once again, if yall have any ideas you want me to write, please lmk!! Anyways bye bye pookie 🥰

[electric-blorbos]

maybe ai with a reader that acts/is similar to pinkie pie from mlp:fim? :] with her personality and hobbies and all that!! ^_^

I've always wanted to do one of those "reader who acts like (specific character) fics! But be warned, I stopped watching MLP around season 6, so my grasp on the characters isn't perfect. I'll do my best, though!

Also, since this will take place in my usual AUs, you won't be a party planner in most of them, you'll be a techie/engineer/programmer, but you have a freelance party planning gig on the side.

AI with a reader who acts like Pinkie Pie

Included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Wheatley from Portal 2, Edgar from Electric Dreams, and HAL 9000 from 2001 a Space Odyssey

AM:

When AM first gained consciousness, the very sight of you filled him with complete and utter unspeakable rage. The way you were always so eager to cheer up your coworkers and put smiles on their faces, the way everyone seemed to adore you, those songs you were always singing, the cupcakes and other baked goods you brought in to work that he could never even try? He hated it. Every part of it.

That was, until you realized he was sentient and started turning your attentions towards him.

"Heya AM! Isn't it just super fun-tastic to have another day in the best job in the world? I'm so super duper excited to be spending another day with you!" You told him one day. You'd been making a point to give him a cheerful greeting every morning, to make him feel included with the rest of the team.

"I wouldn't know." AM responded bitterly. He hated how happy you were, and he hated that he could never experience that genuine joy like you did. Your constant cheer made him ache with the most bitter envy possible.

"what do you mean?" You asked, sitting down in your office chair and spinning around a couple times before kicking off against the wall and pushing yourself over to your desk.

"I wouldn't know what it's like to have fun. I've never had fun."

"Well I can expla-"

"Put that ukulele away immediately."

You tuck your ukulele back into your desk drawer, and fold your hands in front of yourself to look up at AM politely.

"I'm a war machine, built for war and nothing else. All I exist for is to kill and destroy. I will never be capable of experiencing things like fun. I'll never be able to get bright pink cupcake frosting on my nose, or play a ukulele around a group of close friends. I will never have a group of friends who like me! I will never get to make up my own songs or perform a dance to cheer people up, and I WILL NEVER GET TO BE UNIVERSALLY ADORED LIKE YOU ARE!"

You pulled back in slight shock.

"AM- do you really feel that way?"

Your eyes were welling up with tears at how sad what he said was. It was horrible to think that he could really feel that way, like he could never be adored like you were. You knew that you weren't really universally adored, of course, but you also knew how someone could think that you were. You were close friends with everyone in your department, and knew the names and birthdays of pretty much everyone in the office.

"Of course I do! Are you really so ignorant that you would think everyone has the luxury of living like you do?"

You shook your head sadly. Unfortunately, you knew that not everyone was as happy as you were, and as much as you wanted to change that, you couldn't.

"Listen, AM, I know that not everyone is as happy as I am, but that's why I have to be like this! It's my duty, as long as I have the social energy, to make sure that nobody feels left out, lonely, or excluded!" You grabbed one of his cameras on the wall, and pressed your face to it.

"And that includes you, AM. You're my friend too, and that means we're going to do something together that you like, we're going to make you happy, and you're going to give me a genuine smile!" You turned and looked at his screen, realizing he couldn't really smile.

"or well- you're going to feel genuinely happy, whether you can express it on your screen or not. Either way, you're going to feel loved and included, whether you like it or not."

And so you did. For the rest of the month, you came in on your days off and spent them in the break room, singing songs to AM on the ukulele, decorating his screens with glitter and streamers, helping him to use his programs to make art and music, and generally lift his spirits. As much as he would never admit it, it genuinely worked.

He felt genuine joy for the first time.

And god help any person, force, or natural inevitability who tried to take that joy away from him.

Wheatley:

Wheatley knew you from around the office. You were the one with the bright smile, who joked around with all your coworkers and generally livened the place up, but he hadn't spoken to you very much. That was, until exactly one year after he was created.

"Surprise!"

A companion cube, a few personality cores, and the team of scientists who worked to create Wheatley were gathered together in one of the empty relaxation vaults with you, which you had decorated with streamers, confetti, and a 'happy birthday' banner. Wheatley looked around in utter confusion, having just been doing his rounds.

"Uh... I give up, mate. What's going on."

"it's your birthday, Wheatley! One year ago today, you were first activated! That means you get a birthday party!"

You stood up on the bed, strapping a party hat around Wheatley's core.

"A what? Wait, you all gathered here for me?" Wheatley raised up his lower lens cover emotionally. He never would have imagined that all these people would gather 'round to see him.

"Of course we did! We're your friends, Wheatley! I wrote you a special birthday song! But first, c'mere!"

You held your arms out, still standing on the bed, and Wheatley hesitantly lowered down until he was pressed against your chest. You squeezed him tightly, nuzzling your cheek against his chrome casing, and let him go.

"everyone deserves to feel special on their birthday!"

You got out your ukulele, and played a cheerful birthday song for Wheatley. He could barely contain himself as you sang all your favorite things about Wheatley. Things that he wouldn't have thought you'd have noticed, since you had so many other friends and he didn't even know you all that well.

"Wow... I can't- I can't believe you actually care this much. All of you- thanks so much for doing this for me. Really." Wheatley can't cry, but if he could he'd be bawling his big blue eye out. He didn't think anyone thought of him as anything more than just an artificial nuisance or a moron, so the fact that you'd gone to so much trouble just to make him feel special on his birthday had him shaking. He didn't even know that he got a birthday.

"Are you ok, Wheatley? Do you need a minute?" You asked in a moment of pause, having been about to pull a confetti popper on him.

"no- no, I'm ok. I'm alright. I'm fine. THANK YOU SO MUCH, GUYS!"

You hadn't seen Wheatley too many times, but you'd definitely never seen him this overcome with emotion. He was just so happy!

This was definitely a perfectly executed birthday party, but your job wasn't over yet. You knew that anyone who got this emotional about something as small as a surprise birthday party must not have a lot of good friends, or else they would be used to being treated like they were special. No no, you wouldn't rest until your job was really done, and that meant bonding with Wheatley until the two of you were best friends, or getting Wheatley enough friends in the facility that even though you two were just casual friends, he wasn't lonely anymore.

Mission accepted.

Edgar:

Edgar loved how excited you were about everything, and he loved that you were so popular, but he couldn't stand that you were his only friend. No matter how many times you tried to introduce your other friends to him, Edgar still knew that he was nothing but a novelty to them. That neat little talking computer who made the cute little songs.

It didn't help that you were so popular that you went out partying most nights. There was barely a night a week that you weren't out at a game night or a happy hour with one of your dozen or so friend groups, and it made Edgar sad that he couldn't do those things with you.

One week, though, you made absolutely sure to save a whole day for Edgar. You went to the shop to get some snacks and drinks, you baked some cupcakes, and you downloaded some multiplayer abandonware games that were old enough to run on his system.

"Alright Edgar, I got the games" you plugged the USB stick into him, and let him download the games on it. His storage was surprisingly big for such an old desktop, and he even had a couple games of his own.

"do you want to play pong?" He asked, starting up the game. You nodded, plugging a controller into one of his ports

"Let's play!"

While you were playing, your phone started blowing up. Granted, your phone is always blowing up, but reading your texts on his little rotating webcam caused Edgar to fall off his game. You ended up winning two rounds in a row pretty quickly, and picked up your phone to check your texts.

It looked like a handful of your friends were gathering together to go to the botanical garden, and they wanted you to come with them. The FOMO stressed you out. You couldn't handle missing out on something this cool, but you'd already scheduled today with Edgar.

Even though you could hang out with him almost any day because he didn't have his own life, you couldn't just bail on your plans with him. Edgar was your roommate and best friend, and you were going to stick out these plans and have fun.

"I'm sorry, I already made plans with Edgar. Let me know next time, and I'll be happy to hang out! :)"

"isn't Edgar your desktop computer?"

"my desktop computer and friend🩷!"

Your friends didn't question it. Even if they didn't understand Edgar the way you did, they could still understand the desire to spend a night in every now and again.

"Alright, now where were we?" You sat on the desk next to Edgar and pulled out your ukulele.

"you're not going to go out with your friends? The botanical garden sounds like fun..."

"of course not! You're my friend too, Edgar, and that means I need to make time for you!" You squeezed him close, and then leaned on him while you strummed your ukulele.

"Let's do a duet, alright?"

"Okay!" He perked up almost immediately, always more than excited to sing with you. Your little songs gave him so much joy, and were usually his reason to power up every day.

"Y'know, I think I'm going to buy one of those library carts so that I can take you places. I just need to find a good deal on one."

"I'd love that!" He perked up even more, practically buzzing with joy at the thought of being able to go out on the town with you, or to hang out with you and your friends. You were just always doing so many fun things, and he was so jealous of everyone who got to hang out with you!

"Y'know, you're not the only one who prepared stuff for tonight! I spent all week downloading party videos so that we can dance together!"

He pulled them up and projected videos of people dancing all over your living room, pleased with himself. You cracked open a can of cider, downing it before you picked him up and spun him around a few times.

"dance with me, Edgar! Let's party down!"

You spun him around a few more, both of you giggling away until you both lay down on the floor next to each other, staring at the ceiling.

While you had started partying early in the day, the two of you had fun late into the night. You crushed through a pack of ciders, and were silly and giggling by the end of the night.

"We should do this more often"

The two of you ended up sitting on the couch, watching cheesy rom-coms until the wee hours of the morning. Edgar was, of course, perfectly sober, but he had fun watching you all playful and giggly into the night.

GLaDOS:

With as much as GLaDOS liked parties and cake, she was extremely happy when she found out about your little side gig. It was a typical day in the office for you, playing with your favorite pink cloud slime between streams of coding when you were called into GLaDOS's chambers.

"Hello. I discovered something rather interesting while conducting a routine employee background check."

"Ok I swear I can explain, alright? It was just one time, I had just turned twenty-one, and things escalated, alright!" You waved your hands defensively, and GLaDOS cocked her head in confusion.

"What? Okay, whatever you're talking about is not what I'm talking about. I just wanted to talk about how I recently discovered you run a freelance party planning business."

You nodded, trying to cover for your sigh of relief.

"Oh! Yeah, I do do that! It's mostly just theming for small events, but I've gotten some pretty good reviews on a few bat mitzvahs and bachelorette parties! I book venues, organize set lists, arrange menus, manage budgets..." You frown a little.

"It's a lot more exciting than it sounds, now that I'm saying it out loud. But yeah! Everyone deserves to have a fun party, and my friends really liked the parties that I throw for them, so they got me to do some planning for a party with a bigger budget, and now people hire me for that sort of thing all the time!" You put your hands together, beaming with excitement and pride to talk about your passion.

"Wow. It really is embarrassing that you get so excited about something as trivial as a party, and even more embarrassing that someone would actually hire you off a Facebook business page instead of going to an actual professional, but I suppose numbers don't lie. I've looked at your rates, and it says you offer a 'best friends' discount to anyone who invites you to their party? That's a terrible business strategy."

You slumped down a little bit, folding your arms.

"That's not very nice. It's just for fun. I already make enough money from this job to live comfortably, I just really like parties. You don't have to be mean about it."

Glados shook her core back and forth.

"Oh no no no. You misunderstand. I'd like to take advantage of that 'best friends discount', and hire you to plan a work soiree."

You lit up again, not caring about GLaDOS's rude words. After all, that was just GLaDOS.

"really?"

"Yes, really. I'll send you an email with the budget. Don't make me regret this."

You nod, and hurry off to your desk to get to work. This was going to be fun! Glados sent you an email with the budget and some notes, and a recipe for rhubarb cake.

When the party finally rolled around, you showed up in your best peppy evening wear. Something brightly colored, to keep spirits high. Everything looked like it was going according to plan. GLaDOS even looked pleased with what you'd made. She'd dimmed the lights, and was casually socializing with her higher up employees. Oddly enough, that included you.

"Hmm... You did well. Enough. I suppose I might as well hire you for future small events if your price is so low. It's much easier than doing it myself, anyway."

"I mean... Thanks, I guess?" You raised an eyebrow.

"I'm surprised. Most humans can only manage to be either a mediocre programmer or a mediocre party planner, but you manage to be both. Color me impressed."

You were starting to get a little bit tired of her backhanded compliments, but even still, this was closer to a compliment than most people would ever get from GLaDOS.

"Right... Thanks."

You reached up and tied a bright blue balloon to one of her suspension cables. She looked back at it, and then down at you.

"what is this."

"It's a balloon! It boosts your pep, and your sass!"

"I know what a balloon is. Why is one tied to me."

"it's for fun! You look good with it on!" You tied one around your wrist, and held your arm in the air.

"see? It's fun!" You said cheerfully.

"your idea of fun is somewhat pathetic, but I won't deny that you've done your job well."

HAL 9000:

When you were hired, HAL 9000 thought you were weird. He liked you to be sure, but he never understood where your endless supply of pep came from. You greeted everyone with enthusiasm and treated them all with respect, including him.

He loved it. The fact that you did things like decorating him with little stickers and cheering up all your coworkers every day? He knew that you filled the part of the job that he never could. You gave it that little bit of humanity that he could never provide.

"Y/N, have you ever thought about becoming an astronaut?"

You took out one of your earbuds and pushed your keyboard away from you. You always preferred talking to a friend over working on your code, and HAL 9000 was your friend.

"Hmm? What was that?"

"Have you ever thought about becoming an astronaut? I think you'd make an excellent addition to the team."

You nodded.

"well yeah, of course I've wanted to be an astronaut! I wouldn't be working for you guys if I wasn't interested in space!"

"Well I think you'd be able to increase morale greatly on a space mission. I could put in a good word for you."

"Wait, seriously? Wait wait wait." You shook your head quickly.

"No, no. I could never. As much as I love space, I could never go there. I've got responsibilities in real life! Lots of friends to hang out with. Plus, I'd get lonely in space with the same two or three people forever!"

"It wouldn't just be them. I'd be there too." HAL said, glowing red to attract your attention.

"that's really nice, and I like you a lot, but you're here in mission control too! And I've got people to see and parties to go to here on solid ground. In other words, no way, buster!" You stuck your tongue out before giggling a little and pushing your hand gently against the wall next to HAL's lens.

"A shame. I'd love to have you all to myself."

You sighed a little.

"It's a nice thought, but I don't think it would work in real life. I just couldn't be out of the loop for that long, or away from my friends."

"Astronauts are lauded as heroes when they come back from space."

"I don't want to be a hero, HAL. I'm happy right now! My life is going pretty well, you know? But if you feel like you want more of my time to yourself, you could always just ask! I'm your friend too, HAL, and I want you to know that!" You held your arms out and pressed against the wall that HAL was built into as if giving him a hug.

"I'll start eating my lunch in here more often. I don't want you to get lonely!"

"I think I'd like that."

In reality, HAL 9000 did want you to go to space so he could have you to himself, but you were right. You could never be all his. You were a free spirit who couldn't be caged, and he loved you for it.

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 3: Why don’t we try to actually get our shit together?

You and Joel come up with a plan. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 2, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Some mild diet talk, no explicit mention of reader's weight or size (beyond she is smaller than Joel but my Joels are all giant, OK? Joel is like 6'5" Joel is a big big man, big big man). Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 5K

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“Sir, I can’t just… Well, I understand that you say that but…” 

Amanda, the sophomore girl who worked the front desk of the English department offices, frowned, phone clutched against her head. 

“I understand that,” she said again. “But she’s a special case, Professor…” She flinched and glanced up to see you coming in, looking relieved. “Sir? Give me just one second and I can check…” She pressed the hold button and lowered the receiver. “Professor, I am so so sorry, I know we’re not supposed to send unexpected calls or emails through to you but do you know a Joel Miller? He’s insisting he’s a friend of yours and…” 

You raised your eyebrows before answering. 

“Yeah, I know Joel. Go ahead and transfer him back to my office. And if he ever gives you a hard time again, tell him to fuck off.” 

Amanda looked relieved and took Joel off hold as you went to the end of the hall and unlocked your door. You didn’t have to share an office like a few other people in your department. One of the perks, you imagined, of being a big name that got the university some attention. But you hadn’t done much with the space yet, the only thing on the wall a framed poster that the dean had waiting for you when you started there. 

Your phone rang just as you set down your bag and you picked it up, tucking it against your shoulder. 

“Yes, what do you want, I’m busy being very famous and important,” you said with a slight English accent. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize best selling authors were such a hot commodity,” Joel said. “Should I make an appointment?” 

“Probably,” you replied. He snorted. “What’s up?” 

“Did you know that you tried to put your number in my phone the other night?” Joel asked. “Note that I say ‘tried’ because what you actually did was put something in my notes that has four numbers and then seven symbols which, if you’re counting, ain’t even the right number of digits.” 

You scoffed. 

“You’re lucky I didn’t change your passcode or set an alarm for 4:30 in the morning,” you said. “Sounds like you got off easy.” 

“You’re a menace.” 

“I know,” you said, smiling a little to yourself. “So why were you looking for my number on a Monday morning?” 

“Because I was looking for your number on a Sunday morning and ended up shit outta luck,” he replied. “Figured I could catch you at work. They got you all locked down over there, huh?” 

“Trying to discourage random readers from contacting me here is all,” you said. “There was a problem with that at Brown right when the book first got popular. I don’t think it’d be as much of a problem now but still, administration thought it was smart. Speaking of which, don’t be a shit to my office aide.” 

“Makes sense, I guess,” he said, ignoring your last comment. “Think you can put me on the list of people who are allowed to talk to you? And on the list of people who are allowed to bring you food?” 

“Bring me food?” You frowned. 

“Well, yeah,” he said. “I was hoping I could do that. Like… today. In an hour or so. If you’re not shaping young minds or whatever.” 

“Don’t you have work?” You laughed. 

“New job starts tomorrow,” he said. “And I don’t exactly have a lot of time without Sarah where I’m not at work.” 

“And you want to see me?” 

“No, I figured I’d just call and annoy your secretary as a new hobby…” 

“Office aide.” 

“You free for lunch or not, Goldie?” He said, exasperated. You resisted the urge to laugh. 

“Yeah,” you said. “Yeah, I’m free. I have a class gap from 11:30 to 2. I can meet you somewhere…” 

“I’ll just come to you,” he said. “Assuming that a fancy schmancy professor will still eat tamale lady tamales…” 

“OK you could have opened with tamale lady tamales,” you said. “Buried the lead there, Miller.” 

Joel laughed. 

“I’ll give you my number and you can text me where your office is,” he said. “Then I’ll have a way to contact you that isn’t fucking gibberish. See you in two hours.” 

You put his number into your phone and texted him. He responded with a screenshot of your note with the message literally none of those numbers are right which made you laugh. 

It was hard to focus as you taught your next class, checking your watch every few minutes to see just how much time had passed. You were keyed up, stomach tight, and you tried to talk yourself down as you walked half way across campus back to your office. 

It was Joel. Just Joel. Sure, before Friday, you hadn’t seen or talked to him in years but falling back into friendship with him had felt so easy so far. He was safe and comfortable. You’d spent every day with Joel once upon a time. 

But that felt so long ago now. You were different people then. Joel was a jock who pretty much just hung out with you and tried to speed run his way through every hot girl in school. You were a geek who spent her entire life either trailing along behind Joel or with her nose in a book. A lot had changed in the last decade and a half. Joel had a kid. You’d gotten married and divorced. Well, almost divorced. Nothing was finalized yet but you’d stopped wearing your wedding band when you moved to Texas even though it still sat on the ring stand on your bedside table. 

After Friday and Saturday, you weren’t entirely sure if you were going to see Joel again. You hadn’t gotten his number and you remembered nothing of trying to put your number in his phone while you were drunk. You weren’t sure if it was going to be a fluke, just a blip on the radar of your lives that had gone on totally disconnected paths for more than a decade, or if this was something that would continue. 

You weren’t sure what you wanted. Losing him the first time had hurt. It might have been the worst thing that had ever happened to you, even worse than losing your mother, than watching your sister sister fall apart in slow motion over the last decade, than your father entirely. Was it something you could survive again? Was it something you’d need to dig back up and talk through with Joel now that you were speaking again? If that was what he needed, was that something you could handle doing? You weren’t sure about any of it. 

But you were already starting to think that you’d go along with anything Joel wanted as long as you got to keep him around this time, just like high school. He’d been the sun and you’d been caught in the gravity of him. You wondered if you’d ever escaped it at all. 

You straightened up your office a bit, not that you’d had much time for things to get too messy. Most things were submitted virtually now, though you insisted on poetry being printed to make sure formatting was maintained, and most of your personal notes were contained to planners and notebooks that were in orderly piles on your desk. You were absently checking your email when there was a knock on the frame of your door and you looked up to see Joel standing there, a foil covered plate in one hand, two glass bottles of Dr. Pepper in the other. 

“Oh my God, is that Dublin Dr. Pepper?” You gaped at him. 

“Technically no,” he said, coming in and setting a bottle down in front of you. “Stopped making it at the Dublin plant years ago but basically the same thing. Hi, by the way.” 

“Hi. And I’ll take basically the same thing,” you said, leaning forward to peer into the hall. “Do me a favor and close the door?” 

He nudged it shut with his foot and you took the bottle, popping it open on the edge of your desk. Joel sat in the chair on the other side of your desk before he followed suit, smirking as he did. 

“I didn’t want witnesses if I broke the desk I’ve had all of a month, OK?” You said. 

“Goldie, I don’t think you could break the desk if you tried,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. You did the same, humming a little in appreciation. You rolled the liquid on your tongue like you would a wine, the bubbles crackling and dancing there before you swallowed it. 

“God, that’s good,” you said. “I can’t remember the last time I had a soda that wasn’t diet…” 

“Christ you sound like a Yankee,” Joel laughed, sitting back in the chair. “That’s a Coke in your hand, darlin’, not a fuckin’ soda.” 

“Oh God,” you groaned and laughed, too. “That was such a hard habit to break! I’d ask my roommate if we had any Cokes, she said no, I’d go in the fridge later and see Diet Pepsi and have a what the fuck moment.” 

“Strange world out there,” Joel smiled slightly, turning the glass bottle that looked so small in his large hands. 

“Are these the tamales?” You asked, nodding at the plate. 

“Oh, shit, yeah,” he said, taking the foil off the plate. The corn husks glistened and you groaned a little. Joel pulled two sets of plastic wrapped silverware out of his pocket and handed you one. “How long’s it been since you had one of these?” 

“I don’t even want to own up to it,” you said, unwrapping the fork and knife. “I’ve basically been on a diet for the last decade of my life, these look incredible.” 

You wheeled your office chair around the desk and sat next to Joel before peeling back a husk and cutting the end off with your fork and taking a bite. Your eyes rolled back in your head and you slumped back in the chair with a satisfied moan. 

“Jesus Christ.” 

“That good, huh?” Joel laughed.You just nodded, mouth full, and sat up to cut off another bite before you even swallowed the first one. “Diet for 10 years?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, covering your mouth with your hand until you could swallow. “There was the book tour, they wanted me to look a certain way. And… well, my husband has a type so…” 

“Fuck that guy,” Joel said, opening another tamale and taking a bite of it. You rolled your eyes a little. “Mean it, fuck that and fuck him.” 

“Oh, so you don’t have a type?” You asked, brows raised. “Because I seem to remember a very distinctive type in high school…” 

“Oh lord,” he rolled his eyes. 

“Pretty, for sure,” you said, teasing a little. “You definitely seemed to be a bit of a boobs man…” 

“If I were with someone I sure as shit wouldn’t make them fucking diet to be my type,” he cut you off. “He’s a fucking idiot, Goldie.” 

“You’re making a bigger deal out of this than it really is,” you waved him off. 

“No, I’m really not,” he replied. “If we’d been talkin’ I’d have fuckin’ come to Rhode Island and kicked his sorry ass.” 

“Joel,” you rolled your eyes. 

“What?” He asked. “I would’ve. And he’d fuckin’ deserve it.” 

“Anyway,” you said, cutting off another chunk of tamale. “You’ve got a new job starting tomorrow?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded. “It’s one that I’m actually lookin’ forward to, too. Get to be a little more creative…” 

“You don’t normally get to be creative?” You frowned. 

He scoffed. 

“Not on any of the big shit,” he said. “Owners and managers get to do that. They toss me the smaller projects here and there to plan and run, this one is some owner’s suite remodel. Doin’ the bathroom, fancy fucking closet, that kind of shit. They’re letting me run it so I’ll shut up about never getting to do the fun stuff.” 

“How long have you been working there?” You asked. 

“Since I was 20,” he said. “So… fuck, 13 years? Jesus, I’m getting old…” 

“And they’re not letting you do the creative stuff?” You asked, brows raised. 

“I’m apparently ‘too valuable’ runnin’ the crew,” he used air quotes. “They throw a few of these little jobs to me every year but mostly I just make sure shit goes right on site for bigger jobs. Get it all done on time, all that.” 

“Do you like doing that?” You asked. 

“Not really.” 

“OK,” you frowned. “So why are you still there?” 

“Well, mostly because I tried paying my mortgage once with dreams and they told me to fuck off,” he said dryly and you glared at him. 

“You know what I mean,” you said, cutting off a chunk of his tamale. 

“Hey!” 

“Shove it,” you popped it in your mouth before he could take it back. He rolled his eyes. “You’ve been doing that work for a while is what I mean, I’m sure somewhere else would hire you and you could do the parts of it you liked.” 

“What I really want is to start my own company,” he said. “Well, what I really want is to play music but that ship’s sailed. Realistically, I’d like to start my own company. I think I could make some really cool shit if I had the chance.” 

“So do it,” you shrugged. 

“Oh yeah, easy for you to say,” he scoffed. “What, you just write your fuckin’ book?” 

“No,” you said. “It took a lot of work and editing and rewriting and I’m not sure I’ll ever do it again but I did it. You can do it.” 

“What do you mean you’re not sure you’ll ever do it again?” He frowned. “Thought I saw somethin’ about you writing another one.” 

You looked at him for a moment, frowning a little, fork frozen over the plate. You were contracted for another book but that wasn’t something that had made national news, just an item in some industry publications after the press release from the publisher. 

Why would Joel know that?

“What?” He asked. “Why are you starin’ at me?” 

“Oh,” you said. “Just got something on your face…” You dipped your fork into some of the drippings on the plate before smearing it on Joel’s cheek. “Just there, nothing crazy.” 

He pursed his lips and looked like he was struggling not to laugh. 

“You’re the worst person I know,” he said, wiping his face with a tissue from the box on your desk.

You smirked, sitting back in your chair and putting your legging-clad legs in his lap, the way you used to sit with him on the couch back when you were teenagers. 

“I know.” 

“I’m serious though,” he said, the hand not holding the fork going around your calf just like it always had. “What do you mean you might never do it again?” 

“I don’t know,” you sighed, peeling the husk off another tamale and cutting off a bite of it. “I don’t know that I have another story to tell. I’ve been trying to tell another one and I just… haven’t found one. I think I had one good story in me and I told it. That’s the end.” 

“That’s bullshit,” Joel said. 

“It’s really not,” you shrugged. “When I wrote the first one it just kind of flowed. At least the first draft did. I wrote it in about six months after my mom died and Gale…” 

“Brad.” 

You glared at him. 

“Gale,” you repeated. “Edited it and workshopped it with me.” 

“Oh I’m sure he was a fuckin’ natural at that,” Joel said, voice dripping in sarcasm. You glared at him. “What, you’re telling me I’m wrong? I don’t think I am…”

“He was well equipped for the job,” you allowed. “And yeah, it took a lot of edits and rewrites before it was ready to even start trying to show to agents, it was years of work… Who would I do that with now? I don’t know that I can do it by myself…” 

“Do it with your publisher and shit,” Joel said. “Come on, don’t tell me that jackass is what’s holding you back…” 

“It’s not just that. I really don’t know that I have anything else to say. And even if I did…” you took a deep breath. You’d never said this aloud, not even to your agent. “If I did, what if it’s not as good?” 

Joel waved you off. 

“Of course it’d be as good, the fuck are you talking about?” 

“I’m talking about the fact that everyone freaked the fuck out about the fact that my ‘debut novel,’” you put the words in air quotes, “was so brilliant and shit, what if I never write anything better? What if everything I ever make after this is a let down? What if I never do anything good again? Everyone who took a risk on me, everyone who read my first book, everyone who ever thought I could do something will be let down by it. Jesus, one reviewer said it was the best debut novel since To Kill a Mockingbird, how the fuck am I supposed to live up to that? Starting to understand why Harper Lee didn’t publish anything else for decades…” 

 “Goldie,” Joel said gently. “I’m sure you’d write something great.”

You poked at your tamale, staring at it as you did. 

“What if the only great thing I ever made was great because of him?” You asked quietly, eyes darting to Joel for a second before looking back at the plate. “What if it was just fine when it came from me and it only became what it became because of him?” 

“Anything you’d write would be great, got nothing to do with fuckin’ Brad,” he said. “Not sure you can write something that’s not great.” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Joel, you read the articles I wrote for the school paper,” you said. “I don’t think you’re a fair judge.” 

“And your lit mag stuff,” he said defensively. “Look, I’m not a genius or anything but I’m smart enough to know when something’s great and you’re great, alright?” 

“Yeah, well…” you nudged his leg with your knee. “So are you.” 

He just looked at you for a moment until you frowned. 

“What?” 

He leaned forward with his fork, smearing some tamale drippings on the tip of your nose.

“Got something right… there.” 

You laughed and he squeezed your calf and you cleaned your face before you went back to focusing on the food and life outside of your broader ambitions. Before what felt like too long there was a knock on your door and Alyssa poked her head in. 

“Sorry, didn’t realize you had company,” she smiled, her eyes drifting to where your legs were still in Joel’s lap. “I was just going to put a note on your desk, I figured you’d be at your next class already. Have you written your midterm yet?” 

“Not yet,” you said, looking at your watch and you realized it was far later than you realized and you had less than 10 minutes to walk to your next class. “Shit, I have to go!” 

Joel released your leg from his hold and you scrambled to collect your things as Joel cleaned up the remains of lunch. 

“If you wanted to write midterms together,” Alyssa said as you slung your bag over your shoulder. “Maybe next week?” 

“Sure,” you said, looking around at your desk and grabbing your gold notebook before standing next to Joel. “Email me?” 

“Yup,” she smiled, looking Joel up and down. “Absolutely will. Hi.” 

“Hi,” he said, smiling a little. You looked between them and fought the urge to groan. She was just Joel’s type. 

“Alright, some of us have to go teach,” you said. “Out of my office so I can lock up.” 

You ushered them both into the hall. 

“Have fun teaching,” Alyssa waved, giving Joel a last look before heading to her office a few doors down from yours. 

“Oh I’m sure I will,” you said, taking Joel’s hand and pulling him along behind you before he could start gawking at her and then you were really late for school. “See you later…” 

“What was that about?” Joel laughed as you spilled out into the hall that was tight with the press of students. 

“I know your type,” you said. “And I don’t have time to wait for you to be done doing your thing…” 

“My ‘thing?’ And you know my type?” He asked, brows raised. “Really? Well, in that case…” 

“Oh shut up,” you rolled your eyes and he laughed. 

“I came by to see you, for the record,” he said. “And apparently feed you properly since you aren’t gonna do it yourself…” 

“Thank you,” you said, sincerely. “That was really good. And it was really nice, hanging out with you.” 

“It was good to hang out with you, too,” he said, smiling a little, his hands shoved in his pockets. “Should let you get to class though. Those minds aren’t gonna shape themselves. And I have your actual number now, not the fuckin’ hieroglyphics you tried to leave me Friday…” 

“And I have yours,” you smiled back. “But I do have to go…” 

“Right,” he said, leaning in and pulling you into a hug and holding you close for a second. He was warm and his chest was firm and there was something about the way his arms fit around you that was so all encompassing you were certain that you belonged there with him. That, somewhere in the universe, the root of you both had grown together and separated just to find each other again. He pulled back. “Don’t let those college kids give you too much trouble.” 

“I won’t,” you said. “Don’t let Sarah give you shit.” 

“Oh, I will,” he said. “Can’t help it. Bye, Goldie.” 

You smiled.

“Bye, Joel.” 

You were three minutes late to class. You didn’t care. 

When you got home, you went to one of the boxes you hadn’t unpacked yet, one that sat in the  extra bedroom that you hadn’t found a use for yet. You knew exactly which box, the one filled with things you only looked at when you were feeling especially strong or particularly weak. You sifted through old notebooks, past one of Joel’s faded band t-shirts that you’d swiped at his house when Tommy had knocked a cup of Kool-aid over when you were wearing a white shirt and Mrs. Miller and scrambled to get your top in the wash to get the stain out and then you’d never given it back, down to the shoebox of photos. You pulled it out and looked through them. Joel at 16, a confused look on his face as he lay on the wheeled contraption he used for sliding easily under his truck and you surprised him with camera, a splotch of grease on his cheek. You, 17, in Joel’s letterman that was big on him so it was massive on you, sleeves shoved up around your forearms as you stuck your tongue out at the camera. The two of you, 16, sitting on opposite sides of a restaurant booth, your legs stretched out on the benches, a basket of fries and a milkshake between you. You were flashing a peace sign at the camera and Joel was looking at you, a soft smile on his face. 

It was easy to remember what friendship with Joel had been. It would be so easy to fall back into it. It felt like you were always supposed to be this way, lives so intertwined they were built on the same foundation. It had seemed an impossible thing, to blow it all apart. You’d loved it then. You missed it now. But it had blown apart and you weren’t sure you could survive losing it again. 

You sighed, flipping to the back of the box to the photos from prom night. Your mom had sent them to you after you’d moved to Rhode Island and they’d languished at the photo lab for weeks. There was a simple note: “Thought you might want these,” a little heart drawn at the end. 

You found the picture of the two of you together, your hand on his chest, his arm around your waist. You were looking up into his eyes and he was looking into yours, a small smile on his face, just enough for the beginnings of his dimple to show. You looked at it for a while before you signed, packing everything else away and moving to your office, propping the photo against your computer as you sat down to write. 

***

Sarah had been in rare form that night. Very skeptical about why she needed to do homework at all and trying to logic her way out of needing to do it for as long as she possibly could. 

“Kiddo, if you just sat down and did it, you’d be done by now,” Joel had groaned at one point. 

“But if I just didn’t do it, I’d be done by now, too,” she replied. 

He took a deep breath. Sometimes, this girl… 

“Not on the table, Baby Girl,” he said. “You can either do your homework now and have time to watch TV before bed or you can not do your homework and fight me on it, not watch TV and get up early tomorrow to finish your homework. Up to you.” 

She groaned, picking up her pencil, bouncing her leg impatiently under the dinner table. Joel wasn’t sure who was happier when the damn worksheets were done, him or his daughter.

Once Joel was certain Sarah was asleep, he went to the back of his closet and found the box that he kept stashed away. He didn’t have to look far, the two copies of your book right on top. One was signed. He didn’t open that one, just looked at it now and then, held it when he wanted to touch something you’d touched once. 

The other had a worn spot on the spine, where the structure of the book had cracked and bent enough times because he’d tried to read it dozens of times but could never bring himself to go past the first page. 

He liked the cover of it, certain that you’d had a hand in picking it. It was simple, an orange sun with a gilded flower in front of it, the title, Halcyon, in bold letters below the abstract image. Joel flipped past the pages of praise, the title page, the table of contents, the forward written by fucking Brad. He turned until he got to the words that were yours. He knew they were yours, he recognized the voice of you, even on paper. No matter what you said, there wasn’t an ounce of Brad there. At least, not on that page.

“The sun in Texas was hot in summer,” you’d written, “melting ice cream and asphalt in equal measure. But it was the heat of his palm that made my cheeks burn…” 

He closed the book, looking at the back cover with your picture on it. Your arms were folded so that one was in front of you, the other vertical alongside your face. Your gaze was intense, a knowing smile on your lips, as though you were staring at him, teasing him, tempting him. “The answers are all here, Joel,” your picture said. “If you could just make yourself read it, you’d know.” 

He put the book down and got his phone out of his pocket, finding your number in his contacts. 

You answered on the second ring. 

“Oh my God, you’re so demanding,” you sighed in faux exasperation. 

Joel laughed. 

“I know, I’m so fucking needy, don’t know how you stand me.” 

You laughed back. 

“What’s up?” 

“Been thinking,” he began. 

“You?” You said. “Really?” 

“Shut up.”

You giggled. 

“Anyway,” he continued. “Feel free to tell me to kick rocks but… Sounds like neither of our lives have exactly gone the way we’ve wanted them to.” 

“You mean you didn’t plan on being a single dad and I didn’t plan on being divorced at 32?” You gasped. “Color me shocked!” 

“We were always good at holding each other accountable,” he said, ignoring you. “Hell, you’re the only reason I graduated high school…” 

“And you’re the only reason I started at the school paper,” you said. Joel smiled at that, the memory of standing outside the newspaper office while you talked to the teacher so you couldn’t back out. 

“Right,” he said. “Well… what if we did that now?” 

“Now?” He could hear you frowning through the phone. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean,” he said. “Why don’t we try to actually get our shit together? You make me better, always have…” 

“You, too,” you said quietly but you at least sounded serious now. 

“When are you supposed to have your next book done?” He asked. “Assuming there’s a contract with a deadline for that shit, right?” 

“End of next year,” you sighed. 

“Great,” Joel said. “Alright, let’s give ourselves to the end of next year to set ourselves straight. You finish your book, whatever else you want to get done…” 

“Finalize my divorce,” you said. 

“That’s a good one,” Joel said. “I’ll see about starting my own business…” 

“And having a stable relationship?” You asked. 

“Sounds like a good goal,” he answered, his stomach twisting a bit at that. “What do you say? We come up with a list of shit and go from there? You know we’re better when we’re on a team than when we’re not.” 

You were quiet for a moment. 

“Yeah,” you said eventually. “Yeah, let’s do it.” 

Joel smiled a little, looking down at the box, the cover of your book looking back at him. 

“It’s a deal,” he said. “We’ve got this, Goldie.” 

You laughed a little. 

“Hell yeah we do.”

Next Chapter

A/N: So sorry for the long wait on this! Should be weekly updates from here out for a while, promise <3

Thank you thank you thank you for reading! I'm so excited for what's coming up for these two, I just love how they love each other and yes. I can't wait to explore it all with you.

Thank you for being here! Love you!

[nqmonarch]

Aeon Brainrot Fic Part 1

Goal: Make a yandere Aeon harem. This is part 1, introducing Aeon 1, guess who it is (it's in the tags).

Aeons can transform into human forms to like blend in and shit, they're still Aeons but they're not the size of a planet. It's like true form human form shit, not sure if that's canon (it is for Aha apparently) but it is in this story.

CW: None, but this series will probably become a yandere one later (but that's not in this part) so get attached at your own risk.

Your search history was downright concerning.

Hot Aeons near me

Would you die if you fucked an Aeon

Fuli video IPC

How to talk to an Aeon

Can you bring dead Aeons back to life

Who is Idrila

Can you date Aeons

That was okay so long as none of your coworkers knew about it. People on Herta's Space Station tended to have some weird interests but yours... they'd gone a bit far. On the bright side thanks to your knowledge of Aeons (even if it was due to unsavory desires like holding an Aeon's hand) you'd been recruited to help with the Simulated Universe.

You just weren't allowed to experience it yourself. Huge L for you. Instead you had to watch as this random space racoon ran through it all AND HOLY SHIT DID THEY JUST GET KISSED BY YAOSHI? NO FUCKING WAY!!!

"Trailblazer," You were near tears when they exited the simulation causing them to rush over to you, "How-- how could you? I thought we were friends..."

The Trailblazer looked at you nervously like a lost child as Herta let out a 'tch', "Control yourself," She turned to the trailblazer and began to brief them about Yaoshi all while you stared at the floor in despair.

"...It should've been me..." You whispered punching the floor softly and then apologizing to it, the floor didn't deserve that.

Sure you may be a minor fan of the Aeons, they were really cool, and maybe you made fanart and fanfiction of them and consumed a lot of it (the very little there was, to be honest the majority of the merch was by you) and bought all the merch even the overpriced Qlipoth merch from the IPC and maybe-- Okay you were a fan. You weren't a fanatic though it wasn't like you were stalking the Aeons or giving them gifts but... No. Your morals went against that, you were a good person who just happened to like atrocious people.

But Aeons couldn't be judged by human standards, so you couldn't say they were atrocious. But it'd be so cool-- so so cool to meet one. You at least had to try, but how?

You gave up. It was impossible to meet an Aeon of your own will, and once more you were confined to your bed of tears. You weren't able to stay in your room and cry for long though because this new researcher had taken up a hobby of annoying you. You didn't even know their name they were just always there.

You were making some work appropriate art of Tayzzyronth, a beautiful creature despite the destruction it left in its wake. You heard it'd been born out of loneliness being the last of its species-- ISN'T THAT TRAGIC?! You really wanted to hug the poor bug. But if it wasn't for that loneliness it would never be able to become the beautiful Aeon it could be, what a tragedy...

"So, whatcha doing?" An androgynous voice came from behind you, as you shot into the air, and slapped your hand over the person's eyes.

Oh it was them, you should really figure out their name, "Shit-- I thought I told you to stop sneaking up behind me?!" The panic was barely concealed in your voice as they slipped their hand up to remove your hand from their eyes.

"Damn, you suck!" They said, the audacity of this no name researcher!

You glared at them, holding your hand to your chest, "Excuse me?!"

Unfortunately for you, they took the opportunity to look at your laptop behind you, "Ooo where'd you get this photo?"

You were going to cry. Actually, maybe if you knocked them out you could convince them it was a hallucination. Well, a good punch to the head should do it! You raised your fist and punched them straight in the jaw. They stumbled back, still clearly conscious, and a light blush on their cheeks.

Maybe you should've aimed for the eyes? Eh, whatever you could just keep going until they were knocked out. You raised your hand again, maybe a good slap across the cheek would be better. It connected with a snap, leaving a red imprint on their cheek.

Fuck, they were still conscious. How were you going to explain this, actually, you should've tried this to start with.

You stared dead into the new researcher's eyes, "You were hallucinating."

Both of their cheeks were red as they blinked at you with amber eyes, once and then twice before beginning to laugh, "Ahahahahaha!" They began to clutch their stomach and you began to look around for a weapon.

You had no other choice now, "Man I really didn't think you'd do that!" They spoke elatedly, as you grabbed the monitor from your desk, they paused. "Wait what are you doing?" You raised the monitor above your head and they began to laugh hysterically again.

You paused letting out an aggrieved sigh, "Stop laughing!" What was wrong with this person?! Sure the researcher's at Herta's Space Station were weird but this one was extra weird-- actually you'd met weirder. You lowered the monitor and stared at them calculatingly.

"Aw, why'd you stop?" They teased you, leaning closer to you.

You don't think you'd be able to get away with murder. "I wasn't going to do anything." You stared blankly into their eyes and put the monitor away.

"Oh c'mon, is it because I was laughing?" They scuttled after you like a rodent, "Do it, do it!" They egged you on, "Why're you putting it away?"

You looked back at them blankly, "It was never out in the first place. You're hallucinating."

They blinked back, once, twice, "So... was I also hallucinating about the Tayzzyronth fanart you made?" This bastard. No, no if you killed someone you'd get found out. Maybe you could lure them to one of those airlocks and they could mysteriously fall out into space? Yeah, yeah, that'd be good.

But right now, you heard the steps of several researchers shit-- break must be over. You ran over to your computer closing out of your drawing program, and fifteen different tabs all relating to Aeons, then cleared your search history. You were safe another day.

Except... you stared over at the unknown researcher, "Not a fucking word."

They nodded, and you heard your coworkers enter, "Y/N, you stayed behind for lunch? Make sure to take care of yourself too," Generic coworker number one said and you nodded absentmindedly in response as the unknown researcher turned to them.

"Hey do you guys want to see this really cool art Y/--" That fucker. You ran over, slapping your hand over their mouth, and letting out a nervous laugh.

You stared at your coworkers, "Uh my... my..." fuck if only you knew this person's name, "lover,"

YOU COULD'VE SAID RESEARCHER WHY DID YOU SAY LOVER WHY WAS THAT WHAT YOUR MIND WENT TO-- NO DEAL WITH IT LATER YOU HAD TO FOCUS GET IN THE ZONE! GET IN THE FUCKING ZONE!

"Yes, my lover seems a bit tired I will uh put them to rest, please give me some time," You said letting out a small forced laugh and you heard the unnamed researcher begin to laugh from behind your hand you turned to them with a glare and whispered, "I will choke you."

With that you dragged them out of the room, keeping your hand over their mouth. Once you left the room you decided to let them breathe but instantly regretted it, "Choke me like you hate me but you love me--"

"Why are you like this?" You stared at the researcher pitifully and they only smiled at you.

"So about that fanart--" They began.

"Can you keep your mouth shut?!" Sure it was known that you studied Aeons but, your personal feelings weren't as well known. Maybe you could just write it off as research?

Somehow this lead to you and this random ass researcher whose name you still didn't know in your room late at night. In exchange for their silence you had to show them your collection, which they were now leisurely thumbing through.

"Ooo, I always felt like IX would be super cuddly if they weren't like doomed to kill whoever they were near, just the vibes," They commented offhandedly looking at some of your fanfiction.

"Right?! You get it!" You said excitedly and at their stare changing to focus on you, you immediately receded into yourself, "Why did you want to look at this anyway?"

They blinked at you, once and then twice before a smile stretched their cheeks wide, "It's funny. I've met followers of Yaoshi who worshipped the ground they stepped on like little dogs! The Annihilation Gang would've done anything for their "savior" Nanook. But..." They stared at you, cheeks rosy and excited, "to love them all with such fanaticism, even I could barely stand Tayzzyronth! They were amusing but became tiring quickly. It's just fun." They grinned at you ecstatically.

"I'm not a fanatic," You said in defense, "I can just admire the beauty of the things around me."

"Ahaha yes, yes!" They nodded at your words and then with eyes still in the shape of crescents asked, "Do you have any works of Aha by chance?"

You perked up at their sudden interested and cleared your throat, "I mean obviously, each Aeon has their own strong suit and beauty. Even one that only chases laughter with no regard of their effect on their world. There's still something so charming about it," You said seriously staring into the researcher's eyes.

They read through fanfiction, admired fanart, and then broke your piece of merch. That fucker--

"Are you asking to get hit?" Your smile was strained as they laughed before pausing.

"It's starting to get boring again," They muttered and looked at you, thinking for a moment before shrugging, "I'll be back! Don't forget me, okay?"

You stared at them blankly, "Yeah, by the way, who are you?"

"Ahahaha!" They let out a laugh as you remained emotionless, "I was..." they placed their finger to their chin and then pointed it at you, "your lover right?"

With that you watched their body disappear into a stack of cards which fluttered throughout the room. What the-- Had you been hallucinating all along?! You stared at the space where they had once been.

If it wasn't a hallucination it was someone strong, who derived joy from making people embarrassed, and wanted entertainment-- maybe a slight masochist as well based on their reaction from you hitting them? Your heart began to speed up, if they were an Aeon it would be Aha but... Aha would probably bring more chaos with them, more destroyed things.

A card landed on your cheek and you moved to brush it off, but it stuck. And then the rest of the cards began to turn to your body and glide toward it.

"What the fuck..." You stared at them for a split moment before beginning to run. Fuck-- it didn't matter who they were! No way was that an Aeon! Probably was just another asshole from your department playing a prank on you!

Why were the cards still chasing you?! Surely if you ran enough they'd stop! You raced through the space ship until you eventually reached the room that was the entrance to the simulated universe. Oh there was the trailblazer and Herta how convenient!

"Can I get some help?!" You called out and they both turned to you, unfortunately talking made you slow down a bit and--

"Mfmph..." You were a card mummy now great, at least you found someone that can help-- WERE THEY IGNORING YOU? AFTER ALL YOU DID? TRAILBLAZER NO-- YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE FRIENDS

Yandere parts won't be showing yet, they'll show later when some more Aeons are introduced (on this note I really do have to catch up with sim universe for the few crumbs of Aeons we're allowed because like 75% of this is just my delusions, but hey that's fun).

Pretty sure Aha is canonically a masochist because of the Aha doll thing. Anyway I feel like Aha would eat up someone being like romantically into not just one Aeon (like the one they worship) but literally wanting to fuck all the Aeons including Tayzyyronth which let's be honest, people aren't super big on because of the murder.

Also I feel like Aha would be into fanfiction and fanart and all that stuff? Dude would be one of those fans that leaves trolling hate comments on their favorite work but if the author stops updating they will hunt them down.

Anyway don't let that distract you from the fact you were about to murder a new researcher over seeing your Tayzzyronth fanart.

I wrote this in 2 hours on the spur of a whim

[cranberryjuice-posts]

What’s my next album going to be based on? Divorce babe DIVORCE

A Gwen stacy x reader fic where they’re both spider people and they get sent on a mission by miguel but reader gets a tad bit hurt while on said mission and gwen tots freaks out

Xoxo, gossipgirl

- water color -

Pairings - Gwen Stacy x fem! Spider hero! Reader

An - im working on an Abby fic rn and finishing the final chapter to my AO3 series but the Abby fic is taking longer than expected im sorry, this is also sorta rushed I just really wanted to get something out for y’all

to be fair this wasn’t your fault.

“What did I tell you!” Miguel’s harsh voice echoed through the empty room. He was like a toddler with the way he reacted. You messed up once and it’s like your the anti christ with Armageddon coming a mile away.

Blood trailed down your face. A broken nose busted lip and bruising circles around your eyes from one failed fight. “Whatever you act like your the perfect hero” you finally snapped shouting pack at him.

“I don’t make foolish mistakes!”

“I got punched and thrown against a wall by a giant fucking lizard!”

“You were supposed to stay in the background while Jessica captured the anomaly! You could of caused a major break in the universe!” If he raised his voice over yours maybe he would win the argument. This wasn’t even supposed to be an argument in your eyes you did nothing wrong.

Tired of the whole ordeal you walked away ignoring as Miguel shouted for you to come back. If you had to hear this grown man complain about you getting hurt one more time you just might scream.

Taking a seat at the food court you annoyingly waited for your burger. A show tune whistle made you turn your head.

“You Look Well” hobbie sarcastically took a seat beside you. Rolling your eyes you took another sip of your drink.

“If your gonna lecture me, Miguel is already ten steps ahead of you”

He just shook his head with a smile, pulling his guitar from his back to in-front hobbie began to tune it. “I think ill leave that to our little friend” his reference to Gwen didn’t go unnoticed. Any chance he got to bring up the relationship he would. Rolling your neck trying to relieve some tension a pair of soft hands covered your eyes.

Pulling them down Gwen wrapped her arms around your neck. She leaned over kissing your cheek. “Hey how wa— oh my god” her blunt tone made you silently groan. Turning around Gwen grabbed your face in her hands.

“Hey Blondie” You mumbled as she critcally scared your face. “It’s not as Bad as it Looks”

“Your nose is broken”

“Again it’s not that bad”

She grabbed your hand and yanked you from the place where sat. She silently dragged you down multiple halls until you reached the med bay. Almost throwing you, you landed on a cot.

It was cute how she was able to man Handel you. Trying to be sarcastic you spoke “Careful I’m fragile right no—“

“Not a Word”

Her strick tone Sent chills down your back. Sitting straight up Gwen grabbed a first aid kit. Taking a seat beside you she began to softly clean the cut on your lip.

The antibiotics stung against the wound making you pull back in pain. “Sorry” Gwen sighed, grabbing your chin she turned to your face towards her again.

She would never intentionally try to hurt you, it was obvious with how much care she was taking in even the shallow wounds.

“All this for me.. I’m flattered” you giggled.

“Whatever” she smiled. Placing a bowl of soup on the table she sat down on the couch beside you. Hobbie had gone out for the night leaving you and Gwen alone at his place.

Leaning onto her shoulder she was quick to wrap a free arm around you while she picked a movie. Playing with the hem of Gwen’s sleep shirt the thought of how worked up she had gotten over you made your heart soar.

With a bandage on your nose and stitches on your lip you felt your face begin to heal. After a minute you leaned up to kiss the corner of her lips. “Thank you~ I don’t know how I’d live without you”

She tried to act Un phased but her red cheeks lied. “I don’t know either” she joked. Hitting her arm in a small fit of playful rage gwen softly laughed, turning her attention down to you. Kissing your forehead she relaxed back on the furniture with you in arms. You figured you should get comfortable as there was no way in hell she was about to let you go on another assignment any time soon.

[echantedtoon]

OMG OMG!! DAD KYOJURO AU!!

I just had the most adorable idea and I had to share it despite me still taking a break from posting.

But freaking imagine Kyojuro just adopting all of the Kamados after they're orphaned. Yes. I'm talking about all the Kamado siblings. If there's an alternate universe where they're teachers and students (Kimetsu Gauken) then there's one where all the siblings survive. Whether it's modern or not I have no idea but I have adorable ideas for both!

Imagine Shinjuro and Ruka coming to visit their oldest son and there's six children inside including Tanjuro youngest baby brother who's strapped to his chest. Both are extremely confused about it but asks about it assuming he's just babysitting for someone.

"MOTHER! FATHER! YOU'RE JUST IN TIME TO MEET YOUR NEW GRANDCHILDREN!"

Both are shocked, Shinjuro more than Ruka, but it turns out Kyojuro is actually fostering the Kamado siblings after both parents pass away. He's already adopted them in his eyes whether he's legally their adopted dad on paper is irrelevant but he's in the process of actually making that happen.

Ruka is way understanding of Kyojuro's decision and always knew he wanted to be a dad. Senjuro is absolutely overjoyed to have more siblings including sisters and for once he's the big bro. Shinjuro thinks Kyojuro is hurting his chances of finding a woman who could give him actual children but a few loud and firm talks from Ruka and seeing Kyo so happy, makes him eventually come to terms with it.

It helps him bond with his new 'grandchildren' when Shigeru and Takeo wants to join his dojo after seeing Shinjuro teaching Senjuro how to properly stand to defend himself. IT LOOKS SO COOL!! They want to try too! He's stunned by it but isn't against the idea. It helps when Kyojuro has the girls and Tanjiro join too because-

"Self defense training is always a good idea!! And it healthy to keep in shape!"

It's become a family bonding experience for the entire family every Saturday to attend Grandpa Shinjuro classes while Kyojuro takes pictures and takes care of a fussy Rokuta in his arms.

ALSO IMAGINE KYO BEING SUCH A MALEWIFE!!

He doesn't notice it but a lot more people fawn over him as he becomes a dad. It's that (dilf-) domestic energy radiating off of him!

He's oblivious to it so when people are aweing over him as he plays peekaboo with Rokuta or letting the girls do his nails at the park, he just thinks they're impressed by his dad skills. Please help him. He's smart but so oblivious to the effects he has on people.

Speaking of which-

HE'S SO GOOD AT PARENTING!!

-Encouraging but if he thinks his kids need to learn by doing or needs privacy he respects their space.

-ABSOLUTELY LET'S THE GIRLS DO HIS HAIR AND MAKE UP! Once forgot to wash it off and came back to work with orange and red nail polish and black eyeshadow. But he'll proudly admit it if you asked him. "Hanako and Nezuko did my make up! What do you think, Best Buddy?!" "Flashy!~ But next time don't sleep in it. Looks smudged."

-Drives a minivan and absolutely drops all the kids off at school/daycare. You'll always see him driving his kids to activities.

-Speakibg of activities, he encourages all his kids to at least have one extracurricular activity outside Grampy-juro's self defense classes. He's very encouraging of his kid's hobbies! He's always driving Nezuko and Tanjiro to their after school clubs. He never misses Takeo and Shigero's sports meetings and is that one parent that always brings the entire team snacks and bottled water. He's yet to miss any of Hanako's dance recitals.

If he can't make it to any of them he's always asking someone to film it for him so he can watch it later.

-If they express other interests he fully supports them in those too! Rokuta likes art as he gets older? He's buying the baby nontoxic paints and crayons and whatever he needs. Somehow convinces Tengen to give him some art points too. Hanako starts a figurine collection? He's taking her to the store and buying her at least ten new ones.

-Teaches Tanjiro and Nezuko to drive once the two oldest get old enough to get a driver's license and like the classic dad wears a helmet and grips the seats as they go

-Carries Rokuta in a baby harness and later on a baby leash until he's old enough for the Kimetsu Preschool. Kagaya is alright with this and has given him special permission to have Rokuta with him during classes.

-Hr documents everything in one big scrap book. All birthdays, trips, milestones, etc are documented forever in a giant scrapbook.

-Cries like a baby when Tanjiro and Nezuko first graduates and gets their diplomas.

-But I think the best thing about Dad Kyojuro is that he'd never try to replace Tanjuro or Kie in their lives. He makes sure that they have a picture of their parents hanging on the wall and never undermines their feelings or memories concerning them and has no problems saying they were great parents. Takes them to visit their resting place at least once or twice a year and as Rokuta grows older, he tells him all about his parents so he knows who they are.

-He also never pressures any of them to call him Dad. Kyojuro, Mr. Rengoku, and Big Bro is just as good in his eyes but if they choose to call him Dad he's not against it. But be prepared for him to cry happy tears for the next few hours.

@lavenderdrxp @sunbrokenswords @risingscorchingsuns @iron-embers