#and at least its something to do this week has been so slow and boring

[voidolive]

dreading work tomorrow sooooo so so so much. i have to do a thing i really don't wanna do lol and it's gonna suck and nothing is gonna work and I'm gonna look stupid and feel stupid. but at least it'll be Friday.

[hausofwoo]

graphic | mark lee

pairing: mark lee x afab reader

word count: 6.6K

summary: stuck in the monotony of your job at the mall, every day feels the same: opening the store, sitting behind the register, and counting the hours til close. you've even memorized the routines of the stores around you. but when a new guy starts at the comic book store across the way, you realize your predictable days may soon change.

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, comic book store employee!mark, retail employee!reader, really cute and fluffy until it's not, public sex (public space but no one is there), unprotected piv (DONT DO THIS), mark throws u around like a lil play thing, oral (fem recieving), fingering, use of a petname (baby), lmk if i forgot anything!

author's note: this one took forever yall i know its been a while! been going thru some shit irl but things are settling and i was deadset on finishing this bc it's so cute :'-) thank u to T and @hausofmingi for being my beta readers ( ˘ ³˘)♡

working at a mall can be really tiring, but it’s not so bad when you have a crush.

you’ve been working at a retail store at your local mall for a few months now. it’s boring, there’s too many people on the weekends, and you have the worst hours. you found yourself working open to close for far too many shifts. but at the end of the day, at least it keeps the bills paid.

on slow days during the week, you’re always sat at the register, scrolling through your phone or twiddling your thumbs, counting down the seconds til closing time. sometimes you would even stare off into space, watching people pass by all day long.

you went to work always knowing exactly how the day would go; set up shop, maybe help some customers, and do fucking nothing for 8 to 10 hours. maybe a wave to the employees at the stores surrounding you, but sadly, that was usually the most interesting part of your day. you became accustomed to the monotony though, watching the same employees open up their shops next to yours.

the store directly across from yours is a comic book store. you know the few people that worked there, usually just saying “good morning” and going on with your day. you swear, you have this store memorized, knowing when the employees take their breaks, who’s working, what they’re working on that day. you didn’t really mean to, but when all you have to do is daydream, you kinda picked up on the routine there.

so when you arrive in the morning for yet another brutal open-to-close shift, you expect to just roll up the security shutters and sit back at the register all day. but there’s something different today; or rather, someone different.

sitting at the register at the comic book store is a man you’ve never seen before. his hair is perfectly messy and his glasses framed his eyes, which are focused on reading a comic. he’s working all by himself, which is surprising to you since you’re certain he’s new. you catch yourself staring and try to brush it off. he’s a new guy, so what?

you try your best to go about your day as normal, but you can’t help stealing glances over at the man at the store across from you. he has a captivating energy, and it makes you want to know more about him. he seems charismatic, being friendly with customers and earning smiles, then resuming his doodling once they leave. you notice that when he looks really focused, he bites the corner of his lip gently.

you gotta stop staring, or he will definitely notice. you decide to actually work on something for once, organizing the stock and straightening the shelves. soon enough, closing time creeps up on you. you do all of your closing duties and grab your things from the back. you close the security shutters, looking behind you quickly to see that the man is doing the same. he notices your gaze, so you kindly wave at him. instead of a wave back, blush forms on his face with a shy smile. and with that, he walks away.

the interaction was unreadable. he seemed to be so extroverted with customers, having no issue having casual conversations with them. why is he getting all shy now?

you started to pick up on the new routine at the comic book store. from what you could tell, the man worked similar hours to you, often opening and closing too. he rarely worked with anyone else, so the majority of the time you glanced over, he was reading comics, manga, or doodling in his notepad.

you never really got into comic books like that, and only dabbled with reading manga, but the growing interest in this man made you curious about learning more on what he was reading. maybe it wouldn’t hurt to check out the selection? perhaps get some recommendations? you just finished a short shift today so now was the perfect opportunity.

after grabbing your things and saying goodbye to your coworker, you make your way over to the comic book store. you approach the man, who’s sitting at the register as usual, reading. you see his name tag on his chest; a cute red pin with a spider-man drawing next to his name, “mark.”

“hi,” you say, pulling his attention away from reading.

“oh, hi,” he says, placing his comic down. “sorry, i didn’t see you come in.”

“it’s okay,” you reply, looking around at the goodies at the register. “i was wondering if you have any recommendations for a beginner at reading comics?”

“oh for sure,” he says, eyes lighting up. “marvel has tons of great ones. you could start with an ironman one, or maybe captain america? i personally like spider-man, but i’m definitely biased.”

“i’ll try spider-man,” you say after a beat.

mark gives you a nod with a warm smile before leaving the register to grab your comic. he searches through the spider-man section until he finds the first issue. he returns to the register, ringing you up.

“i think you’ll like it, it’s really good,” mark says, handing your receipt to you.

“i’m definitely looking forward to see what all the hype is about,” you chuckle. the conversation pauses for moment, clearly indicating that the interaction is pretty much over with. but you don’t want the conversation to end there, so you find something to keep talking about. “you’re new here, aren’t you? like you just started working here?”

“yeah, sort of,” he says, sitting back in his seat at the register. “i used to work here a while ago and i just came back ‘cause they needed someone.”

“oh nice,” you reply. “welcome back i guess?”

“haha, i guess,” he smiles, rubbing his hand on his neck. “it’s chill here, but it gets kinda boring.”

“tell me about it,” you chuckle. “it’s so slow during the week. i usually have nothing to do.”

“yeah, i just read or draw to pass the time,” mark says, pointing at his notepad on the counter.

“you like to draw?” you ask, curious.

“yeah,” he places a hand on the notepad, grabbing it. you can tell he’s getting shy again. “it’s just doodles.”

“you’ll have to show me some of those ‘doodles’ sometime,” you say with a sweet smile. you check your phone for the time. it’s getting closer to dinnertime and you’re starved. “i guess i’ll get out of here.”

“okay,” he stands again. “well, let me know what you think of the comic.”

“i will,” you say, turning to leave, then flipping back to look at him. “mark, right?”

he nods, asking for your name as well. he beams at you. “it’s nice to meet you. see you tomorrow?”

“see you tomorrow,” you say with a wave, walking out.

for the next week, you find yourself aching to talk to mark again. you read the comic he gave you, and it provided a little bit of insight into him… that he’s a bit of a nerd. definitely not a bad thing. it’s actually really endearing to you, knowing his life basically revolves around superheroes, free time and work alike. that he probably draws little comics in his notepad, and has sweet dreams about being superhuman. why is that so fucking cute?

you have a reason to talk to him again, of course: the next issue of spider-man. the problem is building up the courage again, which is ridiculous because he’s just a guy. a nerdy one at that, and you know that he would be putty in your hands if you really wanted him to be. but the longing you developed for him during those long hours of your shift, seeing him across the way, looking so cute in his round glasses… it’s making you nervous in a way that is difficult to explain.

you’ve been putting off going back to his store at this point. wouldn’t someone that wanted to get into superhero comics come back for the next edition? why aren’t you using your excuse to talk to him? not only that, but he even said he wanted you to come tell him what you thought of the comic. you’re just overthinking things.

you have another short shift one day, and decide today is the day. you gather your things and walk to the neighboring store, feeling the familiar butterflies you felt the first time you approached mark at the register. he’s drawing this time, crouched down and focused. he hears you walk in, lifting his head to meet your eyes. maybe you’re crazy, but it looks like his eyes light up.

“hey,” he says, closing the notepad in front of him. you present the spider-man comic to him, and he flashes a smile at you. “what’d you think?”

you chuckle, holding the comic close to your chest. “it was good, but too short. there’s another issue, right?” you joke, hoping it lands.

he lets out a giggle, “yeah, there definitely is. i’ll grab the next one for you.”

he walks over to a section near the front of the store, flipping through the excess of papers before he finds the 2nd issue. “if you liked that one, you’ll like this one even more.” he returns to the register with the issue, placing it on the counter for you.

“duel to the death with the vulture?” you read from the page. “i haven’t seen any of the movies recently so correct me if i’m wrong, but i don’t remember there being a vulture.”

“oh yeah, he’s in one of the later movies actually,” mark starts. “but you got a long way to go til you finally meet one of the iconic villians like the green goblin, or even the love interests gwen stacy or mary jane. it’ll be so worth the wait though.”

“how much do i owe you?” you ask, already pulling out your wallet.

“you can borrow it if you want,” he says.

“but this one belongs to the store, won’t you get in trouble?” you ask.

“just bring it back and it’s like it never happened,” he whispers, faking a shhh at you. “let’s just say it’s mall employee perk.”

you smile and accept it.

your new routine feels like a nice change of pace. every second of every day used to drag by, and yet at the same time, when you got home, everything that happened was so unbelievably boring that it all felt like a blur. nothing really significant happened to you. but something about trying something new, learning about a brand new niche interest, and even developing a crush… it’s finally something exciting.

you looked forward to the next time you got a new issue. not just that, but the next time you got to talk to mark. he has this charm about him that piqued your interest. it feels so easy to talk to him, as if you’ve already known each other for a long time and it isn’t just a budding friendship. you’d find yourself stopping by the comic book store a few times a week, anticipating the next comic and the underlying tension between you and mark.

like today, when you finally got off of work after a long shift. you were able to close up shop quickly and now you’re walking over to the comic book store, attempting to run in before mark locked up.

“hey, is it cool if i get the next issue real quick?” you ask, popping your head in the store.

“yeah, one sec,” he says, looking up from counting the cash in the register. “lemme just finish closing up the register.”

“are you implying that you’re gonna let me borrow another comic?” you ask, a flirty tone floating beneath.

“well of course,” he says, swiftly closing the cash drawer. “unless you want to start collecting, which by the way, SUPER expensive.”

“i think i’ll stick to being a casual reader for now,” you joke, approaching mark at the register.

“i don’t know, you might change your mind after this one,” he says, grabbing a comic from his bag. he holds it out to you, you grabbing it with your fingers briefly brushing past his. the motion makes you feel a little dizzy, and you can feel heat rising to your cheeks.

you shake your head, realizing this one doesn’t belong to the store. “wait, is this your own personal comic?”

“yeah, it’s one of my favorites,” he says, half focusing as he’s writing something on a sticky note at the counter. “i brought it in so you can borrow it.” you can see the corner of his mouth turning up, as if he’s trying to hold back a smile.

“you didn’t have to do that—”

“i wanted to,” he says, lifting his head up to hand you the sticky note he was writing on. “just treat it with care.”

you take the note, which is pale blue with a cartoon spider-man in the corner. in the middle of the note is a scrawled out phone number. you look up to see mark rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“if you want to tell me what you think?” he says, almost like a question.

“or maybe when i get bored during my shift?” you ask, chuckling.

“i’d like that a lot actually,” he smiles, his previous nervousness quickly washing away.

“you’ll regret it though,” you say, sticking the note on the front page of the comic. “because i get bored here a lot.”

“don’t worry,” mark laughs, shaking his head. “i don’t think i’ll get sick of you anytime soon.”

you finally reached issue #14 of spider-man, the one mark is lending to you. you grab it out of your bag at the beginning of your shift, sitting back in your chair behind the register and getting comfortable. you realize what it’s about and immediately text mark.

sent 10:17 am omg wait i didn’t realize this issue is the first appearance of the green goblin

you look across the way, seeing mark pick up his phone and smiling.

sent 10:18 am mark: oh yeah, he’s fuckin sick mark: you’re gonna love it

you click your phone off with a soft sigh, flipping back to your comic. you go about your shift switching from helping customers and checking them out, and reading. every once and a while, you’ll message mark with your comments and he would always reply with enthusiasm.

the end of your shift approaches quickly, and soon enough you’re closing the security shutters. you look behind you to see mark locking the doors and then doing the same. he must’ve felt your eyes on him, because he turns and flashes his famous smile to you. you walk over to him with the comic in hand.

“you were right,” you say, handing it him. “green goblin is super sick.”

“i told you,” he says, reaching for it, and your hands momentarily touching like last time. he gets flustered. “uh, i can give you the next one tomorrow if you’re working.”

“i am, yeah,” you reply, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “i am so curious though—when the hell does gwen stacy show up?”

“oh,” he giggles to himself. “you’re like, halfway there to finally seeing her.”

“i didn’t realize how extensive this series is,” you chuckle. “not that i’m complaining. i’m actually surprised by how much i like it.”

“i’m glad,” he says sweetly. “well, just come by tomorrow and i’ll give you the next issue.”

“i will.”

the following weeks, you became overtaken by superhero comics and stupid-fucking-adorable mark. you would read an issue of spider-man at work, and text mark with your reactions to certain scenes. at first you thought it might be annoying to him, but he actually seemed to encourage it, asking for your opinions on the characters and storyline.

it doesn’t help that every time you see mark, you get butterflies in your stomach. and it seemed to only be getting worse; you keep finding yourself smiling when his name pops up on your phone. you wake up excited to go to work, because you know you’ll probably have another interaction with him. sometimes, mark would even catch you staring at him and give a little nod with a smile. but what made things exponentially worse was when you catch him gazing at you too, catching you off guard but making a smile spread across your lips. you are smitten, and if anyone else was concerned, mark is probably smitten too. the issue is getting him to finally take the hint and making a real move on you.

he may get a little flustered around you, but he’s not exactly shy. after all, he did give you his number unprompted. but after weeks of going back and forth strictly talking about comics and work, you started to lose hope. you just want him. he must want you back just as bad.

after another closing shift, you watch the mall-goers pass by and file out of the building. the mall is basically empty now, most of the neighboring stores already closed and employees leaving for the day. you had to stay a little bit late, cleaning up a huge mess in the store from some rude customers. you thought you would have time to stop by to see mark, but with the amount of things you have to put away, your chances are looking slim.

you shuffle around the store, placing items back on the shelves and organizing the tables of merchandise. you eyes shift over to the comic book store, expecting to see it dark and locked up. but it isn’t; mark is still in there, half the lights still on, with him unboxing comics from their latest shipment. you already knew it was restock day for them (god you have way too much free time), but you didn’t realize how many boxes they got in.

you open the front door of your store, whisper-yelling through the security shutters. “mark!”

mark’s head turns to look at you and flashes a grin at you. “yo, you’re still here too?”

you nod, leaning on the glass door. you hold up a few of the displaced items in your hands. “go-backs,” you shrug.

he points at the pile of boxes in front of him, “restock. we got a lot of shit in early for christmas.”

“don’t say christmas please, i don’t want to think about it yet,” you say with a laugh.

you turn away to get back to work, putting all the merchandise back to their assigned spots. you don’t know what the hell got into people today; messing up all your organization you’ve done and putting things in all the wrong places. it didn’t help that you had to deal with some assholes with returns today too. you always theorize it’s from a full moon or mercury retrograde or something; those things must be the reason people start acting up.

after about an hour of cleaning, you finish up and can finally call it a day. you close up shop and turn to see mark still working on stocking at his store. you approach the security gate of the store, with its front door still propped open.

“i still need my next issue by the way,” you say to mark, who stands from his crouching position in front of an open box. he walks up to the gate and pushes it up, just enough for you to come through. you look hesitant.

“come in, it’s okay,” he says, motioning you in. you duck under the security gate, slipping into the store. “how was your day? looks like you had a lot to do.”

“yeah, the store was a mess,” you say, following him to the register. “i’ve never had to stay so late after close.”

“it’s only gonna get worse the closer it gets to christmas,” mark says while weaving around the boxes with you.

“what did i say about christmas?” you joke, nudging his shoulder softly.

“sorry, sorry,” he laugh, putting his hands up. you wait patiently for him as he kneels behind the register, looking for your comic. he pops back up with a stumped look on his face. “i swear i thought i put it up here to give to you but i can’t find it. i’m gonna go check the back.”

he starts walking to the back room, and looks back at you. “feel free to sit if you want. our stockroom is a wreck, this might take a sec.”

you nod to him, squeezing past the tower of boxes to sit in the chair at the register. it feels kinda funny to sit back here, like you’re seeing the store from a different perspective, from mark’s perspective. you look around behind the counter, seeing the little notes and cute super-hero knick knacks gathered around.

there’s a mini batman funko pop positioned in the corner, with a sticky note placed under his feet reading “no drinks at the register.” you look over to see a large iced coffee with mark’s name in sharpie. well, we all bend the rules a bit. his name tag is placed on the counter by a stack of comics. you grab it to take a closer look. it’s a plastic red pin with a white pop-art bubble. in the corner is a small piece of paper stuck on it, attached with office tape. on the paper is a spider-man doodle, made with red and blue marker and pen ink.

you’re sure this must’ve been drawn by mark. you have yet to see any of his drawings (despite your prying), so maybe seeing this one up close will give you a sneak peek into his style. it’s a little messy, with scratchy lines and colors bleeding outside the borders. despite that, it has a distinct style that you’re fond of. it’s not perfect, let alone does it look like the super-heroes you’ve been reading in your comics. but it has a quality to it that feels less polished and flat. it has character. the messiness makes it feel more… real.

you set his name tag down, placing it back next to the large stack of comics. these must be his go-backs. he’s been so wrapped up with his shipment he probably hasn’t had time to put them away. you think maybe it would be nice to help a bit. he’s been nice enough to let you borrow comics from the store, and you’re just waiting around after all.

you pick up the stack of comics, situating them into your arms, when you look down and see that under the stack is mark’s notepad. it’s not closed like you’re used to seeing it, opened to a clean white page with a drawing covering up a majority of it. it’s in a comic book style, you’re not surprised. but it has the same quality that his name tag doodle does; scrawly and messy, with no real precise lines. the colors are splashed across the page, with blotches of scribbled colored marker decorating it. then realize what it is—who it is.

it’s you.

the whole image captures you and a little bit of your surroundings. positioned at your normal spot at the register, you’re looking down at a comic with your fingers playing with the ends of your hair. but it has a dream-like feel to it, with the pages of the comic illuminating your face as if a source of power is emanating from it. and then the best part: the wings. placed behind your shoulders are pair of feathered wings, outstretched in a sketched black ink. it’s beautiful.

it’s beautiful and it’s you. mark drew you.

“yo, sorry that took so long,” mark says while emerging from the back, eyes still focused on the comic in his hands. “i finally found it, but dude i had to do some digging—”

mark’s words are cut short when he notices you holding his notepad, comics that were placed atop abandoned on the counter by you. he visibly gulps.

“mark…” you start, not moving your eyes from the drawing. “what’s this?” without a response for a few moments, you tear your eyes away to see mark with blush on his cheeks, mouth open but unable to let any words out. “did you… did you draw me?”

“look, it gets really slow during the day, i just did a little sketch to pass time—”

“mark, this isn’t just a sketch,” you say, looking back down at the notepad. “this is amazing.”

“y-you like it?” mark says, hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“of course i like it,” you say.

“you don’t think it’s weird that i drew you without telling you?” mark asks, nervousness radiating from him.

“i don’t think it’s weird at all,” you say. “i actually love it. i like that you drew me as a superhero too, and one with wings at that.”

mark stays quiet, looking at his feet and probably overthinking everything right now. you look back up at him, tension building in your stomach as you ask what you already know the answer to. “you like me, don’t you?”

mark lifts his head to meet your eyes. he bites his lip anxiously as he nods slowly.

a streak of courage overtakes you as you grab his arm to pull him closer, him tripping over his own feet and crashing into your chest. you’re leaned against the counter, with mark’s arm behind you and hand placed flat on the surface. your faces are close, and you can feel his breath. his eyes are glued onto your lips, and he swallows thickly.

“mark, just kiss me,” you mumble, aching for him.

he wastes no time, leaning in to slot his lips between yours. he snakes an arm around your waist, holding you as close as he can. you melt into him, goosebumps floating across your skin in all-consuming desire. you move your hand to hold his cheek, thumb swiping on his smooth skin and fingers tangled in his soft, messy hair.

he pulls away, breath still shaky. “i’ve been wanting to kiss you for so long…” he trails off before leaning in and kissing you again, this time with more passion. he swipes his tongue between your lips, with you willingly accepting him. his hands trail up and down your sides, then finally places a firm grip on your waist and lifting you to sit on the counter. he slots between your legs, his body pressed close to yours. your fingers card through his hair, earning a sweet hum from him.

his hands trail down to your ass, pushing you closer against him to where you feel the bulge forming in his jeans. he can’t even hold back his moan, it being muffled by your lips. he pulls away again, this time kissing from your cheek down to your neck. he sucks at the expanse of skin while he caresses the other side of your throat. you let out a soft hum in pleasure, savoring every bite and lick—

“fuck, you sound so hot too,” he says in between kisses. he moves a hand down to your breast, kneading it roughly. you throw your head back, soaking in the pleasure from just his hands alone. his beautiful fucking hands, the ones that drew you. his lips feel so good on you, but his hands feel even better. it’s as if he’s been waiting for this moment for eternity and he doesn’t want to let you go. almost as if holding you, touching you is the only thing keeping him grounded in reality. it doesn’t feel real to you either; that mark, the cute boy you’ve had a crush on for weeks and weeks is kissing you, holding you, and yearning for you all the same.

you feel so wrapped up in the moment that you almost forget that you’re in public. sure, there’s no one left in the mall and the only people left are probably mall security, but the risk of being seen is still there. it just feels too good to stop.

“mark,” you say, giving in to the anxiety. “are we really doing this? right here, right now?”

he pulls back to look at you, still holding you close. “it’s just us here, and if it’s okay with you, i don’t think i can wait any longer.”

“i don’t think i can either,” you respond.

suddenly mark is ripping your clothes off, all while pulling you both behind one of the comic display cases. it’s your turn to take his clothes off, and you’re yanking his jacket off and pulling up his graphic tee and discarding them both on the floor. the exchange is a jumbled mess of constant touching of skin and clothes flying in every direction, a true testament to how desperate you both want each other. he’s kissing you all the while, taking every opportunity to peck at you between the tugging of clothes.

he leans you against the display bookshelf full of comics, completely unbothered when an issue or two falls off. your hand travels down into this jeans, feeling him hard and pulsing against your palm. you stroke his length slowly, focusing most of the stimulation on his dripping head. he lifts one of your legs slightly to get better access to you under your skirt, then looks at you as if he’s asking for permission.

you nod your head profusely before leaning in to kiss him deeply. it doesn’t last long, because suddenly he’s pushing inside you and you’re gasping at the stretch—

“you’re so—fuck—so fucking tight,” he hisses, attempting to push in as slowly as he can. your mouth is fully agape in bliss as he finally bottoms out, reaching deep inside of you. he catches your eyes, lust filled in his own as he slowly starts to move.

he’s slow at first, knowing that his size is stretching you out to the point where it’s nearly painful. but it feels so fucking good, his cock dragging in and out of your tight walls. you can tell he wants to pick up the pace, with his breath shuddering with each stroke. you take the opportunity to kiss him again, wanting to taste his soft lips as he gradually begins to pound into you.

he’s groaning against your lips, and your moans are muffled against his. you’re trying to salvage any sort of public decency by holding back your sounds the best you can. it’s when he grabs your legs and lifts you to press you against the display shelf that you realize that that shred of awareness of your surroundings is about to be long fucking gone.

he’s holding you up by gripping your ass, pistoning into you at a pace that you can only describe as brutal. it’s no use trying to stifle your moans anymore, with him hitting your cervix over and over and making you see stars at each stroke—

“mark, it feels so fucking good,” you can only whine out to him, wrapping your arms around his neck tighter, tugging at his hair—

“you feel so fucking good, jesus,” he groans against your neck, heaving breaths tickling at your throat.

his pace is wild, but the force in which he’s pounding into you begins to cause the comic books around you to tumble off the shelves, creating a pile at mark’s feet. he doesn’t seem to care though. that is, until a comic book falls from a shelf above you and hits him on the head.

“ah!” he exclaims, realizing what happened. he stops his movements to look at you, holding back a smile.

you can’t hold back your laugh, giggling profusely at the ridiculousness of the situation. he laughs too, shaking his head and letting out a sigh.

“this is crazy,” he says, resting his forehead on yours.

“i know,” you reply, still giggling. with one last laugh, he leans in and kisses you tenderly, smile still formed on his lips. you melt into him, ruffling your fingers through his hair as he begins to pick back up the roll of his hips into you.

it feels like a sweet moment, the fact that you can be doing such a scandalous act and still giggle with him. the tenderness doesn’t last for long, however, when he hits that perfect spot inside you that forces you to release a sharp moan.

“mark, oh my god,” you whimper, attempting to roll your hips down onto him. “keep doing that, please—”

“fuuuck,” he groans, feeling your core clenching around his length. “you take me so well, baby.”

all you can do now is nod, whimpering and whining on him. you can’t believe that this man that has always been so endearing, so kind and lovable has this completely different side to him that you’re only now getting to experience. it brings a different sort of intrigue to him; that he’s more than just a cute boy that works at a mall. he’s complex. he’s a fucking man. he’s a fucking. sex. god.

his breathing starts to become irregular, and his pace is back to merciless. his groans, fuck, his moaning. he’s bouncing you on his cock in the perfect way to where your moans are matching his. you can feel his dick pulsing inside you—

“i’m gonna cum,” he can only breathe out, burying his head into the crook of your neck. “can i?”

“yes mark, please,” you whine, tugging at the ends of his hair. all the while you’re clenching around his cock, bringing him closer and closer to his release.

with a low groan, his hips stutter and you feel his seed spilling into you, completely filling you up. the rocking of his hips stall, and he’s finally letting you down and kissing you sweetly, caressing your cheek with his hand.

“god, you are fucking perfect,” he whispers to you. you let out a giggle, leaning your forehead against his. “hey, i’m not done with you yet.”

he quickly moves you to the glass display counter, lifting you to sit you on it. he pushes your thighs open, lifting your skirt up to get a better look at you. he looks enamored, like he’s starving and the only thing to appease his hunger is by having you on his mouth.

he dives in, licking a stripe up your core with a groan. he repeats this action, as if he’s savoring every drop of your essence mixed with his release that’s slowly dripping out of you—

“so fucking hot,” he hums, releasing a hand from your thigh to tease at your entrance.

“mark, please,” you beg. “stop teasing—”

he attaches his mouth to your clit, swirling his tongue around in smooth, controlled circles. your hands fly to his head, body already twitching from stimulation. his finger is still prodding at your hole, wanting to enter but not just yet. he instead continues to ravage at your sensitive bud, intentional movements making your head spin. he knows what he’s doing and he knows he’s good, especially with the shaking of your thighs and high pitched moans escaping your lips egging him on.

he looks up at you, flattening his tongue out and doing long, drawn out licks. the eye contact is insane, the lust filled in them only making it that much hotter. he’s enjoying every second of this, seeing you shake and begging him to keep going. he loves the taste of you too, so sweet and almost addictive. he could die like this.

his teasing finger finally starts to deepen inside you, slowly at first. he can feel every pulse of your core around his finger, and it’s so hot that he can feel himself getting hard again. and you’re so wet, oh my god, so fucking wet. your arousal is dripping down his chin and his hand, making a sticky mess. when you start to roll your hips onto his face, he swears he’s in heaven.

he inserts another finger, feeling that tightness grip around them. it’s only getting more erratic now, clenching around him with each grind of your hips. he curls his fingers to prod at that sensitive spot, causing you to moan out his name—

“mark, don’t stop,” you whine, looking down at him basically making out with your pussy.

he continues the same movements, repeatedly hitting your g spot and swirling his dripping tongue on your clit. your back arches and legs unintentionally close around his head, making him push them back open with his free hand.

and then he starts humming against you. the vibrations send a shock wave through your body, that mixed with his fingers, his tongue, his hand gripping tightly against your thigh… it feels so intense and so so good. you cum on his tongue, with him desperately holding your hips down and he helps you ride out your high. he doesn’t stop until you’re shaking, and you have to grab his head and lift it.

“oh my god,” you gasp, slowly coming down.

he smirks up at you with arousal-coated lips. “yeah, oh my god.” he stands up, immediately going to kiss you and you accepting him, wrapping your arms around him. he pulls away and leans his head against yours.

“i can’t believe we just did that,” he says, sighing out an exasperated laugh.

“i know, what the fuck, right?” you giggle.

“are you- are you doing anything right now?” he asks. “like, do you wanna get food or something?”

“are you asking me on a date?” you ask teasingly.

“don’t tell me you decided you’re creeped out by the drawing now,” he laughs.

“yeah. suuuper creeped out,” you joke, leaning in for another kiss. you hear a noise behind you, and look out through the security shutters to see a mall security guard passing by, scrolling through his phone.

“looks like he just missed the show,” mark says, causing you both to try and hold back your fit of giggles.

a/n: thank u guys for reading! i rly enjoyed this one hehe :-) please leave feedback as i'm new to writing, and reblog to support me! it motivates me to write more!

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[matsunoluvr]

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ how clingy sylus copes with your absence

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking

characters: sylus

link to master list here!!!

authors notes: so basically we all love clingy!sylus and i don’t think people talk about it enough, so i here i try to do him some justice </3

i tried not to mischaracterise him, but i find it difficult to imagine how he’d react. he’s a full fledged adult - 27/28 years old - so i can see him trying to be mature about it. but after a while, it gets hard to wait any longer no?

more below the cut!! :3

first few days of your absence sylus is fine, i mean it’s one day - people get busy, people get tired. sylus understands better than most that life gets tough.

he checks his messages maybe two or three times to see if you’ve responded, but nothing. that’s okay, he’ll wait for you.

after five-ish days he’s a little irritated, how could you forget about him for that long?

yeah you could be busy, but seriously?

he gives you a call but it sends straight to voicemail, to which he refuses to leave one.

i bet he secretly feels a little embarrassed at how much your absence is bothering him, and out of spite he refuses to check his phone during the day.

“Tsk, ignoring me?”

luke and kieran definitely notice his small shift in attitude - his nonchalant facade isn’t perfect after all.

they are also secretly cursing you for disappearing, i mean come on! how could you leave them with an angry boss!!

another few days pass, how long has it been since he last saw you? a week?

gets fidgety and cracks, calling you again - no reply.

when he gets sent to voicemail he speaks in his typical, slow tone.

“Why aren’t you picking up my calls, kitten? Get back to me when you listen to this.”

despite his seemingly calm voice, he’s starting to really lose his cool. your absence was unsettling, and yeah he’s disappeared before for a few days on business, he at least picks up calls.

he never leaves you clueless for even a few days, let alone a whole week.

mephisto is sent out for surveillance of the n109 zone, and sylus keeps his phone close. always in his vision, hearing range, whatever.

every notification catches his attention, eyes snapping to the illuminated screen only to slowly drag away when he sees it isn’t you.

from the first to second week of your absence, his irritability shoots up. sylus is getting agitated, brushing it off as annoyance.

after all, what the fuck did he do for you to ignore him for this long?

he texts you almost every day now, the texts getting increasingly shorter, decreasingly floral and more concerned.

“Kitten, why aren’t you picking up my calls?”

“[YN], are you really ignoring me?”

“Hello? Are you okay?”

“Call me.”

he’s calling you every other day now, his sleeping schedule is deteriorating and his mind isn’t focused.

sylus is getting angry at himself, why is he so messed up about this? so what if you haven’t spoken to him in 13 days, isn’t it pathetic to be so affected by your absence?

he lived 27+ years without you, he can live another hundred without.

yet he still finds himself rearranging the plushies you two caught together, checking for your messages, scrolling through your posts.

almost a month has passed since your disappearance, and sylus isn’t getting any better.

why did you go? are you okay? did you get hurt?

god forbid something happened to you.

he’s hired some people to search for you, fuck waiting he’s worried.

finds himself drinking more alcohol with his meals than usual, to the point where even he - a heavy weight - feels his head becoming a little dizzy, his hands twitching for his phone.

one night, after downing a bottle of wine himself, he calls you at least five times, before leaving a voicemail.

his voice lacks its usual slow, bored tone. instead his words are a little slurred, his voice seems a little higher pitched - not too much but it is noticeable - and he’s speaking a little faster too.

“[YN]? Where are you, are you okay? Please pick up, it’s been a month. Do you really- have I deterred you? I know you dislike me, have you ran away? If you have, then at least tell me you’re alive. I mi-”

he catches himself before he says it, because he’s just realised something, something that was so blatantly obvious he feels shocked that he hadn’t noticed it

he misses you, he isn’t angry. he isn’t annoyed that you disappeared, he’s upset.

the fact that it took so long for him to realise is stupid, and all he can do it sit and chuckle drunkenly to himself.

“I miss you, [YN]. Please call me back.”

when you finally call him - exactly 43 days since you left - he almost scrambles to his phone

sylus picks up immediately, yet miraculously finds himself at a loss for words. what does someone say after over a month of waiting?

kind of just stands there, frozen - if you wait before speaking you can hear his almost shaky breaths

“Hey Sylus, you miss me? You left over 13 voicemails and 65 texts, I’m touched.”

gods your voice smoothed over his tense muscles like honey

he sits down, heart beating faster than usual. it’s stupid how much hearing your voice affected him, but he couldn’t help the way his body relaxed at the sound.

if he was a dog his tail would be wagging so fucking hard

“Come here, now.”

when you do arrive, you seriously expect to get killed or something. his tone sounded seriously pissed - i mean like the most pissed you’ve ever heard it

but when you open the door you just get swallowed into a chest and a pair of arms

if you try to move away or struggle, they just hold you tighter and restrict your actions and- oh, sylus is hugging you.

his face is angled down into your head, and you can’t see his expression - only the beating of his heart against you, and it was fast.

“Where the fuck were you? I missed you.”

explain whatever the hell you want to sylus, he’s already decided that you’re not going out without him knowing ever again

probably tries to download some sort of GPS tracker on your hunter’s watch to make sure he knows where you are

TLDR; sylus doesn’t realise how much he really cares for you until you go MIA for over a month in which he starts to genuinely tweak out! :3

AN; guys i actually spat this out in like an hour i think i might have clingy!sylus brain rot because oh my god anyways this isn’t proof read i just needed to express my love for clingy!sylus that gets worried because he isn’t just a dominant badass gang leader he’s also human and he also gets sad and upset and feels emotions argahdbansn he just sucks at recognising his own desires (get it because his evol eye can see other people’s desires but he can’t see his own :3)

[alchemistc]

He'd had a dream about this, once. Sweat still cooling, sheets tangled at his feet, a view of Eddie Diaz's bedroom ceiling.

Sue him - Tommy's not the first guy who ever had a raunchy dream about a straight friend. For a few weeks there, both Diaz and Evan Buckley had featured heavily in his rotation. And then Evan had tried to murder his best friend and Tommy had kissed him about it and now...

Tommy shifts his weight. Slides his hand across the sheets - Evan's sheets, still familiar even if the location has changed. Christ, why had Eddie never scraped the popcorn off his ceiling? It's an easy job, really, even if it is painfully boring and time consuming, he could -

The hand that curls around his neck, just under his jaw, is light, careful, still possibly covered in Tommy's cum.

"I missed you," Evan says, and Tommy feels the panic bubbling under his skin, a miasma of humming thrumming reminders that this had been a bad idea from the start. That "randomly" running into his ex three shots deep at the bar had been one of his shittier plans, fueled by his own tipsy jealousy at seeing Evan's drinking partner grinning at him for a good hour while Tommy got progressively worse at pool.

He opens his mouth to let Evan down. He can't do this There's no world where this changes anything. For Christ's sake, he'd only done it because the possessive monster inside of him had heard Evan introduce him to Ravi Panikkar as 'my... Tommy' and the rest of his brain had left the fucking building.

"Everything is so screwed, Tommy. Eddie, and Maddie, and - I just. I want to work on this. I want - I know I didn't say it right before, but everything went to shit that day and if we could just..."

He's always done this. Fucked Tommy to the brink of brainlessness and then proceeded to talk a mile a minute like the sex they'd had was inspirational and energizing. Tommy'd been endeared by it from the start. He still is.

He fucking hates that.

"I can - we can go slow. You set the pace, Tommy, I promise."

"Buck," he starts, and everything in Evan shuts down all at once.

He's done a poor job of keeping that line drawn in his own head - all these months later and he still thinks too much about him, still thinks of him as Evan, and it's a shitty thing to do when they're both fully aware that it's something of a treat for both of them - that name that's been mostly Tommy's since the day Buck found himself at the academy with three Evan's and grinned his way through a nicknaming process.

Evan's hand unfurls from its spot, fingers slipping from where they'd been working at his earlobe. He's gone from soft and pliant glued to Tommy's side, to stiff as he rolls away, sheets travelling with him, and Tommy doesn't fight it when they shift free of him, leaving him bare as the day he was born.

At least he's got his trusty fucking walls. Those at least will keep Evan from glancing up and seeing him break his own heart in two twice over.

Evan rolls to a sit, heaves his legs over the bed. In the soft light Tommy can map out the constellation of moles on his curved back as he drops his head into his hands.

The silence is deafening.

"I, uh ... I think you should go?"

Tommy's certain he doesn't mean for it to sound like a question. He's also certain Evan Buckley has never once in his life been anything but a novice at hiding emotion in his face, body language, voice.

He's pretty sure they could do this a hundred times and Evan might just let him.

Tommy doesn't speak as he gathers his clothes. Doesn't speak as he steals furtive glances around the hem of his T-shirt, doesn't speak as he realizes he didn't even make time for cleanup so he's definitely driving home with the evidence of this night still fucking on him.

Evan's still cradling his head in his hands when Tommy shoves his foot into a boot, not bothering with laces because maybe he'll just fucking trip on the curb and fall into oncoming traffic. It might be the better option.

"I'm -."

"Don't," Evan says, just loud enough for Tommy to know he's barking around a phlegmy throat. "This is worse, just so you know. It was already bad, Tommy..."

Tommy expects there to be more, but there isn't anything. Evan's shoulders heave, and Tommy grabs his keys and phone off the side table, and he blinks and he's somehow out the door, eyes stinging and blood rushing in his ears and he honestly shouldn't be driving but he's not gonna leave his fucking truck here.

He's not entirely sure how he makes it home. He comes back to himself with scalding hot water washing away the evidence of his fuck-up, throat sore and jaw tight and his phone blowing up on the bathroom countertop.

He shouldn't feel the vindication he does that at least this time he milked enough emotion out of Evan to make him send fourteen - his phone buzzes again - fifteen texts in a row.

He feels it anyway, and just to dig the knife deeper into his own chest he shuts his phone off for the night the moment he's towelled himself dry.

Tomorrow. He'll figure it out tomorrow.

He's been telling himself that for five months - a year - his whole fucking life. Maybe one day he'll be telling the truth.

[rhiannonsknife]

— BUT I’M A CHEERLEADER (part 1)

— summary: you’re still getting over your past situationship when you meet nat scatorccio.

— warnings: drinking/alcohol. implied period typical homophobia. based on this request.

the music pounds through the walls of the house, every beat rattling through your skull and adding to the dizziness you’re already feeling. you’re perched on the edge of the bathtub, clutching a half-empty red cup you’ve forgotten about. the drink has long since lost its taste, and the buzz you’d been riding earlier is wearing off in the worst possible way.

tears fall, slow and relentless, even as you try to force them back. it’s pathetic, you know it is as you look at the mascara smeared face that greets you in the reflection of the mirror ahead.

none of this was supposed to happen. you weren’t supposed to end up here, locked in a bathroom at some stupid party, crying over someone who never cared enough to give you what you wanted. the same old story. you saw it coming, but that doesn’t make it hurt less. it doesn’t make the loneliness any easier to bear.

you run a shaky hand through your hair and wipe at your burning eyes, the red cup slipping slightly as you press it between your palms. it was supposed to be different this time, not feel like the same heartbreak you’ve lived through so many times before. she was different. or at least, you thought she was. that’s what you kept telling yourself while you fell for the girl who promised she was ready to be with you, who made all the right moves, said all the right things.

but when it came down to it, she couldn’t even look you in the eye as you tried to talk about it a couple of weeks ago. all she could do was calling things ‘complicated’ and saying that maybe she wasn’t ready for something real. no apology. no real excuse. and now here she is at the same party, dancing with some guy in a way she never would have with you, leaving you no choice but to watch from across the room.

the bathroom door creaks open suddenly, and you quickly wipe at your face, trying to compose yourself. the last thing you need is for somebody to walk in on one of the cheerleaders looking like this. but it’s too late.

“occupied,” you mumble.

“yeah, no shit,” a dry voice responds

you look up, surprised to see one of the yellowjackets standing against the doorframe. you know her, obviously, if only from a distance, from watching games from the sidelines after performing: natalie scatorccio. she’s the one with the shaggy, bleach blonde hair and that perpetually bored look in her eyes, the one who always wears vintage band tees and a leather jacket if she’s not in her soccer jersey number 7.

“sorry,” you mumble, trying to sound like you’re not completely falling apart. “i’ll leave,”

natalie doesn’t move. she crosses her arms and leans against the wall, her smirk softening. “relax,” she says. “not like i’m dying to hang out with the drunk assholes out there.”

you blink at her, caught off guard. “then why are you here?”

she shrugs, stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her. “needed a break. but you-“ her eyes flick to your tear-streaked cheeks. “-are you okay?”

“do i look okay?” you snap, voice wobbling.

natalie raises her hands in mock surrender. “fair enough. want to talk about it, or should i leave you to…whatever this is?”

you hesitate, staring down at your cup. she’s a stranger, but something about her feels steady, like she’s not here to judge or pry. before you know it, the words are tumbling out.

“i hooked up with someone. someone i really liked. and they…didn’t feel the same way,”

natalie hums, leaning back against the counter. “cheerleader, right?”

“uh, yeah. how’d you know?”

her grin is small, knowing. “lucky guess,” she gestures vaguely toward your perfect ponytail, the neatly pressed outfit you're wearing (or what's left of it after the night's events). "also, your whole squad has that...same vibe, you know?"

“a vibe?” you echo, frowning.

“you know.” she shrugs. “acting like you’ve got it all together, even when you’re crying in a bathroom…”

you bristle slightly. “well, clearly, i don’t,”

“clearly,” she says, with a smirk that’s just shy of teasing. then, more seriously: “so, what happened?”

you hesitate, then sigh. “i thought we had something. but they didn’t see it that way. basically said i was imagining things!”

natalie tilts her head. “cheerleader too?”

her tone is careful, and the question catches you off guard, though you don't bother denying it. with the amount of cheap liquor you've had, there’s no point in trying to lie. besides, she doesn't strike you as the type to judge, considering the fact that she was the one to bring it up.

“yeah,”

she lets out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “figures. you guys are always so tangled up together,”

you glance up at her, defensive. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it’s just…” she shrugs. “predictable. all sunshine and pom-poms until someone gets stabbed in the back!”

“not all of us are like that,” you mutter, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“oh, yeah?” she quirks an eyebrow. “then why are you in here crying?”

her bluntness stings, but it cuts through the fog in your head. at least she's not sugarcoating things just to make you feel better. you exhale sharply, and before you can stop yourself, you’re speaking again. “because i thought she actually cared. i thought…” you trail off, shaking your head.

natalie’s expression shifts slightly, something softer slipping through as she shoves her hands into her pockets. “people suck,” she says simply.

you laugh weakly, despite yourself. “yeah. they really do!”

the room falls into silence again, but it’s not uncomfortable. you feel lighter, somehow, like just talking to her has already taken some of the weight off your chest. for the first time tonight, you feel like you can breathe again.

natalie shifts, standing upright and jerking her chin toward the door. “c’mon. this party fucking sucks anyway. let’s get out of here!”

you hesitate, glancing toward the door. “what, you’re just gonna leave?”

she shrugs, her hands still tucked in her pockets. “what’s the point of staying? and let me guess: you’re not exactly dying to run into her again tonight either?”

your stomach twists at the thought, and you shake your head. “no. definitely not!”

“exactly,” natalie says, stepping away from the wall. “so let’s bail. the night’s already shitty, might as well make it less shitty!”

“you want me to come with you?”

she smirks faintly. “you want to stay here crying in the bathroom?”

you let out a soft laugh despite yourself. “alright, fair point”

natalie gestures toward the door. “come on. i know a spot. it’s better than this place, anyway,”

‘better than this place’ isn’t exactly a high bar, but something about the way she says it makes you trust her. you nod, leaving your cup on the counter. “alright. lead the way!”

natalie doesn’t say anything else, just pushes open the bathroom door and leads you through the party. the noise and chaos feel even more overwhelming after the relative quiet, but she moves through it carelessly. you follow her out to the driveway, where her beat-up car sits under a flickering streetlight.

“get in” she says, jerking her head towards the passenger side.

you hesitate for a moment before climbing in. the interior is as unpolished as you’d expect, the faint smell of cigarette smoke lingering in the air. natalie slides into the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut and cranking the engine to life.

“where are we going?” you ask as she starts driving off.

“somewhere quiet,” she says simply, her eyes fixed on the road ahead.

fifteen minutes later, you’re parked at a deserted overlook just outside town. only there, natalie cuts the ignition and leans back, pulling a pack of cigarettes from her jacket.

“want one?” she asks, holding it out to you.

you shake your head. “not my thing”

“suit yourself.” natalie lights one up, the orange glow illuminating her face in the otherwise dark space. for a while, neither of you says anything, the silence surprisingly comfortable.

“so,” natalie starts, breaking the quiet. “you really liked this girl, huh?”

you sigh, leaning your head back against the seat. “yeah. i thought…i don’t know, i thought we had something!”

“maybe she’s just an idiot,” she offers, her voice dry though not unkind. “her loss, right?”

you glance at her, watching the way her face lights up from the faint glow of her cigarette. “what about you, natalie? ever had…dunno, someone break your heart?”

she winces playfully at the name. “natalie? god, no one calls me that. it’s just nat!”

“nat,” you repeat. “alright, nat, what about you then?

she exhales a stream of smoke, her gaze fixed on the horizon through the window shield. “not really,” she says after a pause. “i’ve had my fair share of bullshit. people thinking they can get close, but only on their terms,”

“that sounds…” you trail off, searching for the right word.

“exhausting?” nat supplies, flicking ash out the window. “yeah, it is.”

familiar, is what you were going for, but you suppose ‘exhausting’ will do. you study her for a moment, the sharp angles of her face in the dimly lit space. “you’re not what i expected, you know?”

nat glances sideways at you. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

you shrug, leaning back against the headrest. “i don’t know. i see you at school sometimes…and with the whole soccer thing, i guess i just figured you’d be different,”

“different how?” she presses, curiosity piqued.

“i don’t know,” you hesitate, searching for the right words. “the team’s such a big deal. everyone’s always talking about the yellowjackets since you guys won nationals,”

nat lets out a dry laugh, taking another drag of her cigarette.

“trust me, we’re just a bunch of idiots kicking a ball around. nothing special”

“you’re good, though,” you counter. “regionals last year? that goal you scored? pretty badass!”

“you were there?”

“i’m a cheerleader, remember? i’m at all the games. you don’t really notice us, though, do you?”

“not my thing,” she says with a grimace. “but, uh, thanks. i guess,”

the conversation continues, ebbing and flowing with surprising ease. turns out that nat scatorccio is not at all how you had expected her to be.

eventually, as she runs out of cigarettes to smoke, the cold starts to seep in, and you shiver. nat notices, shrugging off her leather jacket and holding it out to you.

“here,” she says. “you’re gonna freeze to death!”

you blink at her, surprised. a part of you wants to argue, but the goosebumps on your arms speak volumes. “are you sure? won’t you be cold?”

“i’ll survive,” she says, rolling her eyes. “just take it!”

you do, slipping it on quickly. it’s oversized on you, the sleeves hanging past your hands, and smells faintly of smoke. it’s warm, at least, and you murmur “thanks” as your finger clutch at the fabric.

“don’t mention it,” she replies, stubbing out her cigarette. “c’mon, let’s get you home before someone calls the cops on me for kidnapping a cheerleader”

you laugh, the tension easing from your chest as she starts the car and pulls back onto the road, letting you navigate the route to your house.

the drive is quieter this time, the party and all your earlier heartbreak feeling strangely far away. nat drums her fingers on the steering wheel in time with a song playing faintly on the radio.

when she stops in front of your house, you hesitate for a moment before opening the door. “thanks for tonight,” you say, your voice softer than you mean it to be.

she shrugs, her gaze flicking toward you. “don’t overthink it, alright? i just…didn’t want you crying in some gross bathroom all night,”

“well, i appreciate it. see you around?”

“maybe,” she says, a half-smile on her face as you climb out of the car and close the door behind you.

you stand on your front porch for a long moment, watching her tail lights disappear into the night. only then, when theres only the pitch black darkness of the street left ahead of you and nat’s car is long gone, you make your way inside.

it isn’t until you’re curled up in the comfort bed that you notice it: nat’s leather jacket is still wrapped snugly around your shoulders. you hadn’t even thought to take it off, too distracted by the events of the night. now, as you bury your face into the worn leather, you can’t help but smile as you inhale what is a mixture of the scent of her cologne and cigarettes.

the thought makes you grin despite yourself, and you let the warmth of the jacket lull you to sleep, unbothered by the fact that you’re still in a full face of makeup and the clothes you wore to the party.

somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re already thinking about how to return it, though the idea of seeing her again doesn’t feel like a chore at all.

the gym is still buzzing with energy, the echoes of the rally lingering in the air. you're perched on the bleachers, fiddling with the hem of your cheer skirt as the crowd begins to disperse.

the yellowjackets are clustered near the far corner, laughing and shoving at each other while coach martinez barks something about practice tomorrow that you can understand clearly even from a distance and amongst the giggles of the other cheerleaders.

your eyes, however, are locked on one player only.

she's leaning against the wall, arms crossed, her signature smirk firmly in place as she banters with lottie. she doesn't seem to notice you staring. if she does, she doesn't let on. her hair is messy, sweaty strands sticking to her neck, and there's a small smear of dirt on her cheek that she clearly doesn't care enough about to wipe away.

the ache in your chest is as confusing as it is frustrating. you're not supposed to feel this way about her, of all people. not after how your recent situationship ended. you'd made the stubborn promise to yourself hat you would not end up falling for another girl in the foreseeable future. and yet, here you are, watching nat scatorccio from afar.

"hey"

the voice beside you makes you jump, and you whip around to find her -the girl you'd been seeing, or whatever you'd been doing-hovering uncertainly at your side. only yesterday, the sight would've made your heart ache. now, it just annoys you that she's interrupted your people (nat) watching.

"uh, hi," you mumble, glancing back at nat almost instinctively. the girl notices, following your gaze. "since when do you care about soccer?"

"what? i don't, i wasn't-" you cut yourself off, realizing how pointless it is to lie. "i was just…..zoning out,"

"sure," she says, her tone clipped. she shifts awkwardly, crossing her arms. "look, about the other night-"

whatever she's saying is drowned out by your own thoughts: nat's laughing at something van said, her smile wide and unrestrained. it's different from the smirk she usually wears. it's softer, more real somehow, and your heart stumbles stupidly in your chest.

"are you even listening to me?" she suddenly asks sharply, pulling your attention back to your side of the gym.

you blink, caught off guard. "sorry, what?"

she rolls her eyes, clearly exasperated. "forget it. i just thought we should talk about...whatever this is. or was!"

you don't want to talk, especially not to her. she's made her stance clear. still, you offer: "yeah, no, you're right. we should. just... maybe later?"

she scoffs, throwing up her hands. "whatever. good talk!" you don't even have the energy to stop her as she stalks off, the sound of her sneakers echoing sharply in the nearly empty gym. your gaze drifts back to nat, then, and you catch her glancing your way. your breath catches, the conversation instantly forgotten, but she looks away before you can tell whether she actually noticed you, or if it was just wishful thinking.

even the school parking lot is alive with post-rally energy by the time you and the rest of the cheer squad has made it out of the locker rooms and you're no longer in the tight outfit.

the yellowjackets are lounging around their cars, hard to miss when they're still in their jerseys. you spot nat leaning against her car, a bright yellow number 7 on her chest and a cigarette dangling lazily between her fingers. she's clearly disinterested in whatever story misty is animatedly telling beside her.

your heart thuds uncomfortably as you approach, clutching the leather jacket in your hands. the nerves aren't new, you've felt them every time you've seen her since that night, but this time, it's worse: she's with her teammates, and they're all staring at you the moment you come into view.

"hey," you call out, offering a small wave. "i, uh...i have something that's yours?"

nat's eyes narrow slightly before flicking to the jacket in your hands.

“oh my god, nat,” taissa teases, leaning casually against van's shoulder. "didn't know you were in the habit of lending your stuff to cheerleaders!"

she exhales a puff of smoke, side-eyeing tai. “shut up!”

you bite your lip, stepping closer. “here. thanks for letting me borrow it!” you hold out the jacket, trying to keep your voice steady with the whole team watching the exchange.

nat takes another drag from her cigarette, letting the silence hang for just a beat too long, before, finally, taking the jacket from your hands. “no problem,”

van raises an eyebrow, smirking the exact same way taissa is.

“well, this is new. didn't know you two were friends...?”

“we're not,” nat says quickly, her tone defensive. you glance at her, the sting of her words hitting sharper than you expect.

“but she's nice,” misty chimes in, clearly delighted by the interaction. “and really good at flips! i saw you at the rally. you did that back handspring thing-“

“misty, not now,” lottie interrupts, shaking her head.

“anyway,” you say, forcing a smile despite the awkward tension.

“thanks again, nat. and...see you around…?”

nat shrugs on the jacket. “thanks, i guess,” she mutters, not meeting your eyes.

“uh, no,” you say, catching her off guard. “i'm thanking you. for, you know...saving my ass the other night...?”

nat quirks a brow at you, clearly unimpressed. “right. well, you already said that. so, we're good!” she shifts on her feet, clearly itching to leave. “see you around, cheerleader!”

and with that, she's gone, her boots scuffing against the asphalt as she falls into step with taissa and van.

turns out you do see nat around, more often than she seems to like.

the first time you spot her in the halls, it's almost comical how badly you fail at playing it cool. nat's leaning against a locker, her bag slung carelessly over one shoulder, chatting with somebody you don't recognize. you walk past and try to keep your head down, but you can't resist glancing over at the last second.

unfortunately, nat very much notices: she smirks, raising an eyebrow in what you can only assume is amusement at your awkwardness. “hey, cheerleader,” she calls, her voice echoing in the hall.

“uh, hi!” you manage, voice coming out brighter than intended. the person by her side snickers, but nat doesn't say anything else, and you slink away, your face burning.

the second time, you're determined to do better.

you catch her near the parking lot, hanging around with a group of guys you've never seen around before. she's got a bottle in a paper bag, her posture lazy and self-assured, and for a moment, you stop in your tracks, hesitant. but then you remember her kindness at the party, and you square your shoulders. the least you can do is thank her properly.

“hey, natalie,” you call as you approach, and she glances over, her expression one of confusion before recognition flashes over her features.

“it's nat,” she corrects automatically, taking a swig from the bottle.

“what do you want?”

you dig into your pocket and pull out the scrap of paper, you'd prepared in class, holding it out to her. “here!”

she takes it, frowning. “what's this?”

“my number,” you say, surprising even yourself with how steady your voice is.

nat snorts. “yeah, no thanks. not really my thing.”

“no, not like that!” you insist quickly, though your face warms. “it's just...if you ever want to talk, or hang out, or whatever. i still owe you for that night, remember?”

her eyes narrow as she studies you, and for a moment, you're sure she's going to crumple the paper and toss it. but instead, she tucks it into her jacket pocket with a shrug. you consider it a small win when you leave her to it.

the third time you try your luck with nat, it's after school. nat's sitting on the steps outside, looking a little less put-together than usual: her hair's messier, her leather jacket slightly crinkled, and she's perched on the edge of a concrete step, surrounded by a few other yellowjackets.

you hesitate, shifting your weight from foot to foot, wondering if you should just let it go for today. but then you remember the way she looked at you the first time you crossed paths after the party, how her gaze softened just a little and how willing to hold nat had been, and it pushes you forward.

you walk up to her, purposefully ignoring the eyes of the other yellowjackets, but determined to try anyway.

“hey,” you say, a little unsure.

nat looks up at you then, her eyes calculating as she takes in your approach. for a moment, she doesn't say anything, just watching you with a furrowed brow. you can feel the familiar rush of nerves, but you push through it anyway.

“do you have a minute?” you ask, trying to sound casual. her lips twitch in what might be the beginning of a smirk, but she doesn't move. “no cheerleading practice today?”

you blink in surprise until you remember: she knows. of course she knows. everyone knows. it's hard to miss you bouncing around in that uniform, especially when you're standing next to your teammates, who always make a point of making everything so damn loud.

“no, not today,” you reply, glancing down at your shoes. “i...thought i'd take a break. come see what you're up to...?”

she doesn't immediately respond, but her eyes flick to the group of yellowjackets gathered around her, clearly sensing that they're all watching in anticipation. nat takes a long drag from her cigarette before replying in her usual dry tone. “why are you here, cheerleader? got another number for me to ignore?”

you almost laugh: the way she says it isn't cruel or mean, but teasing instead.

“no,” you say, shaking your head. “just wanted to check in. i haven't really heard from you since that night. thought i’d see if you were still alive!” nat doesn't seem fazed by the comment. she just exhales a puff of smoke before she replies: “i'm fine,”

you bite your lip but continue, “so you're not mad at me for, you know, giving you my number? for-“

“i'm not mad,” nat interjects. “just don't expect me to be...all friendly, alright?”

you feel a flash of disappointment, but try not to show it. instead, you nod, aiming for a smile but landing more on an awkward grimace. “fair enough. just thought i'd try, you know?”

for a moment, nat just looks at you, her expression unreadable. you're about to turn away, thinking you've pushed too much, when she suddenly speaks again. “you're persistent, i'll give you that,”

you turn back, blinking in surprise.

“maybe it's because i don't like giving up," you reply, your heart skipping a beat. "i really do owe you for what happened that night.”

she shrugs, the motion almost lazy. “you don't have to keep thanking me,”

“i know” you tell her. “but if you ever want to grab a coffee or something, i mean..i'll be around”

just when you think she's going to dismiss you again, she looks over at the group, making sure they're not listening, then back at you. “i'll think about it, cheerleader,” nat says, her voice softer than usual. “but if we do this, i get to decide where we go. deal?”

you blink, surprised by her answer, but you can't hide the grin that spreads across your face. that's not a no. it's far from it, actually.

“deal,” you agree, heart racing in your chest hopefully.

“good,” she says, her lips curling slightly as she pats her pocket, where she must still keep the note with your number on it. “i’ll let you know when. don't go getting your hopes up, though!”

and with that, she turns back to the group, pulling the collar of her jacket up higher, but you catch the smallest smile before she does.

you're not sure if you've just secured somewhat of a date with nat scatorccio or if you're just being hopeful. either way you’re not ready to back down yet.

you don't hear back from nat right away. truthfully, you're not sure you ever will. then, three days later, just when you've pretty much given up on it, the telephone rings.

“hello?” you say, balancing the phone between your ear and shoulder as you set your homework aside.

“hey, cheerleader”

your heart practically jumps at the sound of nat's voice, low and almost reluctant, as though she's already second-guessing this decision

“nat?” you ask, sitting up straighter.

“yeah,” she replies, and you can practically hear her smirking through the phone. “i said i'd think about it, didn't i?”

a stupidly wide smile spreads across your face before you can stop it.

“you did. so, what's the verdict?”

there's a pause on the other end, and then: “tomorrow night. meet me at the bowling alley on main street, eight o'clock?”

“bowling?” you repeat, surprised.

“yeah, you know? shoes that look like fucking clown rejects, greasy fries, cheap drinks?” she pauses, and her voice takes on a teasing edge. “figured it'd be fun to see you totally suck at something for once!”

you laugh softly, shaking your head. “wow, thanks for the vote of confidence. are you any good?”

nat immediately snorts, and the sound is so sudden and genuine that it makes your grin widen. “hell no. i fucking suck. but they've got an arcade, so if we both bomb at bowling, at least there's that!”

“an arcade?”

“what, you don't think i could beat your ass at pinball?”

“oh i think i could destroy you at pinball, actually!” you laugh into the speaker

“big talk, cheerleader,” nat says, her smirk audible. “guess we'll see, huh?”

“guess we will,” you reply, still smiling.

there's a moment of silence before she speaks again, her tone quieter now. “see you tomorrow, then. don't flake!”

“i won't," you promise. “you better not either!”

nat scoffs lightly. “yeah, yeah. see you at eight!”

before you can respond, the line goes dead, leaving you with the telephone pressed to your ear, smiling like an idiot.

— a/n: happy new year everyone!! here’s the first part of my little nat series (masterlist) <3

[carbondioxidewater]

Make A Move (Pt. 3)

americanfootballplayer!Sukuna x fem!reader

genre: slow-burn romance, college au, fluff, angst

warnings: none so far

word count: 3k

(-> Pt. 1) (-> Pt. 2) (-> Pt. 4) (-> masterlist)

A small gift bag in your hand, you're currently on your way to the football field. You figured it would only be fair to thank Sukuna for his help last thursday. All of your classes were over for the day and after your talk with Utahime - you had a lot of explaining to do after all - you found out that the team had training in this exact period.

Because Utahime is a senior tutoring juniors occasionally - as she had the best score in the mathematics exam last year - she knows about their schedule through a guy named Aoi Todo, who is also in the football team and simultaneously one of those juniors she tutors. You don't know how she keeps up with her own studies, considering she has that minijob at the hotel AND is a tutor on top of that. But she had always been a very determined woman and luckily, she only tutors every few weeks.

When you arrived, the team was just getting ready to start. You looked around the area to find that distinct pink haired guy you were here for and when you thought you had found him, he turned around and didn't have those typical tattoos on his face. You were utterly confused to say the least, when all of a sudden you heard a deep voice from behind you.

"Looking for me in your free time?"

You turned around and Sukuna gave you a smug look.

"Actually, yeah." you admitted and his face turned into a stunned one. He didn't expect you to be so blunt about it.

"I just came to give you that." you added and reached him the small bag.

"What's that?" he asked, mustering it before reluctantly taking it into his hands.

"Just a small thank you for last time." you crossed your arms behind your back and looked up at him, a genuine smile adorning your face. At this sight, he gulped. He examined the gift closely, slowly removing its content. He couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the chocolate in form of a football, his mind went blank.

"You got this for me?" he quizzed, taken aback by the kind gesture. You couldn't help but chuckle, a small bluff following.

"No, I actually got it for the other pink haired boy over there." And with that, you turned around and pointed at the man you had mistaken for Sukuna a few moments ago.

"'The other pink haired boy?'" he repeated with an amused grin. "Don't tell me you don't know him."

You shook your head.

"I don't. Why would I?" you doubted to which he responded in disbelief.

"Because he's one of the best players of our team?"

"I don't really concern myself with football or who plays it." you confided to him, causing Sukuna to drop his jaw in a state of shock before closing his mouth again in a moment of realization.

"You knew who I was though." he then stated.

"Yes, because you're a well-known womanizer." you rolled your eyes. He just laughed.

"If I am, then why aren't you all over me?"

"I'm resistant to boys like you." you shrugged your shoulders.

"Really? How are 'boys like me'?"

"Let me think." you pretended to be serious, getting into the thinker pose. "Arrogant, insufferable, boring, nasty..." he nodded at every word, occasionally raising his brows amusedly but letting you speak. Sukuna couldn't hide his entertainment, you were truly something else.

"You think so?" He came closer. "Then why did you give me the chocolate? You sure you're not crazy about me, sweet thing?" he smirked and that startled you for a moment, but you composed yourself again.

"Don't flatter yourself. You know it's not like that."

"A man can dream." he sighed and held up his hands in retreat, eyes closed. Once again, you felt your face heating up, when suddenly some of the players on the field headed your way.

"Yo, Sukuna! Hurry up, before you're late again!" someone screamed while coming up to the two of you.

"What do you mean again? I'm never late for training!" Sukuna hissed at him. Then the guy was already next to you, though on the other side of the fence.

"And what happened on thursday?" he asked him to which Sukuna kept silent. Your mind went to work, catching onto his words.

"What happened on thursday?" was your next question, curious because on that day, Sukuna helped you out.

Then another guy followed after the first, answering your question. It was the one that looked so similar to Sukuna.

"He was one hour late to our meeting, delaying the bus drive and our whole timetable and all!" The kind looking boy unfolded and now that he was closer to you, he looked like a boyish version of Sukuna, who was rather mature in contrast. His words left you speechless though, Sukuna prioritized your safety over football? You couldn't believe your ears.

"Yeah yeah yeah, and now I'm never hearing the end of it." Sukuna complained while the others laughed at him.

"Deserved." The black haired one said.

Then Sukuna took the opportunity to introduce you to each other, exposing the one with the black hair as Todo and the other one as Yuji. The two seemed to be extremely surprised at Sukuna's action for whatever reason, stammering sceptically while greeting you.

But that was not what caught you off guard, it was the way your name rolled off Sukuna's tongue. Now that you heard it slipping from his lips, you noticed you don't reckon telling him your name, so how did he know? You instantly glanced at him and when you did, he already met your gaze, a knowing smirk on his face.

"Anyways, hurry now or we're starting without you!" the two boys exclaimed to which he responded with a simple "I'm coming, dammit!", walking after them while all three of them grinned.

And with that, the athletes said their goodbyes. You returned, leaving slowly but surely. Sukuna, though, halted for a split second, calling out your name once more. He was definitely doing this on purpose.

"Hey! We're not done with that conversation!" he shouted and you inwardly agreed, wanting to confront him about the new found information that was revealed to you.

"Is that a threat?" you screamed back and he beamed at you.

"It's a promise!"

And then he turned around, running after his teammates. You couldn't help but start growing a wide smile yourself.

In the distance, you could see them teasing Sukuna about something, but you couldn't catch their voices.

It was the next day and you were sitting in your linguistics class that was about to start in a few minutes, busy reading through the endless pages of text you were supposed to read at home. Thankfully, your lecturer was not there yet, but you still cursed yourself for not starting earlier, positive that you wouldn't finish reading it in time.

Focused on skimming through the text, you jumped when suddenly someone plumped down the seat right next to you. It couldn't be your friend who typically sat there, because she was sick this week. Of course, it was Sukuna.

"Can you stop doing that?" you hissed, still recovering from the shock.

"Where would be the fun in that?" his pearly whites flashed you.

"Why are you even here? Mixed up the classes?"

"Nah, but we have unfinished business."

"So you thought this was the right place and time for that?" you remarked sarcastically, but he replied with a careless "Yeah."

Shaking your head, you took a quick look at the time before taking the opportunity to confront him.

"Why didn't you tell me you had to be somewhere else on thursday? I would have been fine. I hope you didn't get in trouble..."

Finally talking about what left you nosy after yesterday's events, you wondered if he didn't have any classes himself. But that shouldn't bother you. You've had a hard time doing your homework and falling asleep the previous night due to Sukuna's selfless act, unable to stop your mind from wandering to said topic. You truly wouldn't have expected that from him.

"You know my reasons already, it was my decision. It was nothing your little gift couldn't have fixed." he flirted and you puffed. "I texted them I had to take care of something first and in the end, we still won. None of them was actually mad at me, so don't worry about it." he assured you and that soothed you a little.

"Next time, I'm declining your offer." you informed him.

"Next time, I'll make sure you're at the game then. Can't keep me from the game when you're at it." he smirked and you sighed. He was so annoying.

"I already told you I'm not into football."

"Yeah, about that...that has to change. Can't let you walk around not knowing who the heroes of our campus are." he exaggerated.

"Speaking of which, how do you know my name?" you finally had the chance to ask him that.

"Wouldn't you like to know? Maybe I should leave it to you to figure it out, like you did to me." he suggested, referring to you lying about sharing a class with him when you first met. The puzzled look on your face was enough for him to break out in laughter.

"But I'm not cruel like that. I know Utahime from Todo, I just didn't know she had a roommate. So when I asked him about it, he remembered your name from some of her stories. He didn't know who you were though."

So you both used the same method, the same opportunity to find out about each other? What are the chances?!

"You know Utahime?" Those were news to you. She would have told you if that was the case, you were sure of that.

He shook his head.

"Not in person, I just know she tutors Todo."

"You're unbelievable." you were shocked that he put so much effort into getting to know you.

Everything you've learned about Sukuna in the past few weeks truly surprised you. You thought he was just a big asshole that only cared about himself and had a shallow personality, but the more you got to know him, the more you realized you actually felt somewhat comfortable in his presence. Not that you would tell him that, of course.

"I know." he winked. "So, what do you say? You coming to my next game this weekend?"

"Didn't you have a game last weekend already?" And in that moment, your professor barged in.

Shit! You haven't finished reading the text yet!

"Oh you have a lot of learning to do. We have one every week of the season."

But before Sukuna could carry on his lecture on football, you tried convincing him to give you this lesson another time, internally stressed about your still due obligation of reading the text. But he was stubborn, not willing to comply until you pledged to come to his game this saturday.

The loud discussion in the otherwise so quiet room had ultimately drawn the attention of your lecturer, who quickly noticed that Sukuna didn't belong in this class.

"Mr. Sukuna, aren't you in the wrong place?" the professor voiced.

Sukuna apologized, claiming he only needed a minute before turning back to you again, everyone's eyes on the scene in front of them now. The lecturer was taken aback by Sukuna's boldness, but seeing as the period hasn't even started, he let it slide.

"Please, go already!" you pleaded whisperingly, shoving him a little but he didn't back down just yet. Thankfully, both the professor and the students started preparing for class, the noise slightly concealing your conversation and taking the focus from you.

"I'm not leaving until you promise me to come."

He pushed and you gave in, not daring to face the consequences if you didn't, and especially not wanting to make this situation even worse let alone hold up the whole class.

"Okay, okay! I'm coming! Now go!" And Sukuna grinned.

"That's what I wanted to hear, princess." he moved closer towards you, his lips right next to your ear. "Keep a lookout for number 9, he'll score the winning goal." he whispered deeply and finally stood up, excusing himself.

You let out a breath you didn't know you held and noticed some girls shooting daggers at you. You almost forgot how popular Sukuna was and that made the whole scenario all the more embarrassing for you. It was in that moment that you realized what it meant to be around the campus heartthrob Ryomen Sukuna.

Home. Finally home!!!

You thought the day would never come to an end when during all of your classes, Sukuna occupied your every thought. You didn't know what to feel, you knew he was this big ladykiller who you'd never involve yourself with usually, though at the same time, he was caring and attentive and easy to talk to.

You discarded your bag into the corner of your room and freshened up a little. Shoko would come over soon and together with Utahime, the three of you would have a long due girls night again. Movies and gossip with your two best friends - what could be better.

All of you were sitting in Utahime's room now, you didn't have a living room because your apartment consisted of only two rooms plus a bathroom and a kitchen. You didn't complain though, you were already lucky enough to have two separate rooms, many dorm members have to share one.

Shoko was even luckier and lived alone. You always switched between meeting at Shoko's place and yours. Although Shoko didn't have a big apartment, her bedroom was kind of small, so she visited you more often than you visited her.

You were in the middle of telling them the tea and they already tried to persuade you into thinking that Sukuna was interested in you. You just rolled your eyes.

"It's NOT like that! Trust me!" you insisted, but they didn't sound convinced.

"He invited you to his game?" Shoko promted.

"And didn't back off until you said yes?" Utahime's mouth fell wide open.

"I don't know, this all sounds pretty much like it is to me." Shoko was certain.

"I'm not sure, he's really nice and to be honest, different from what I thought." you admitted.

"Just be careful. His reputation speaks for itself. Don't let him fool you." Utahime then added.

"Don't worry, I won't." you sighed.

"Maybe he's just the type of guy who gets off on your 'unreachable' demeanor." Shoko wondered, tapping her chin with her finger. Your face cringed at the thought.

"Even if, it's not like I don't know better than to be cautious. I'm not playing into his game and I'm definitely not going to be one of his conquests. I could never see myself being involved like that with him." you declared confidently.

It was true, you wouldn't fall for his advances, you weren't naive. Maybe you've doubted it for a split second, but you always knew what his goals probably were. And you were thankful for your girls for reminding you.

"It's for the best, really. He is really attractive, but his reputation is just not it. If he ever makes a serious move on you, please run." Utahime concluded, disguising her sincerity with laughter. You could read her like a book however and knew she just deeply cared about you.

"I can't go alone to the game though. Are you by chance free on saturday and would join me?"

"What type of question is that, it was crystal clear from the beginning that we would come with you! Excuse me?" Utahime announced, seemingly offended and you all broke out into laughter.

Oh, how you loved your friends.

A few days before the game, you walked to one of your classes again. This time, you were prepared. You had read the text at home and the phenomenon 'Ryomen Sukuna' didn't distract you from it. You were on your way into the building when you saw a big bus in the parking lot in front of it. It was unmistakably for the football players, you saw Sukuna and his team in the distance. Suddenly, someone bumped into you.

"Oh shit, sorry! Hey, I know you!" It was Yuji.

"Oh, hi! Are you on your way to the bus?" you asked him.

"Yeah! We have an away game again this week!"

"Oh yeah, I know, I'll be there! Good luck!"

"Oh you will? That's nice! I hope you'll enjoy our game then!"

"Thank you! By the way, I'm sorry for interrupting your training last time. I could see you and your friend were quite irritated." you scratched your head in agitation. Yuji seemed confused.

"Hm? Oh! No, sorry if we left that impression! It wasn't you, it's just that Sukuna never really introduced a girl to us before! That was strange!"

What?

His words shocked you. You wanted to know what he meant by that, after all, Sukuna had something going on with a lot of girls already. But before you could consult him, he already set off.

"Oh shit, I have to hurry up, they're already getting inside the bus!" he stressed.

"Oh, yes of course! Uhm, please tell Sukuna good luck from me. A-and the rest of the team too of course!" you passed the message on to him.

"Will do!" he beamed at you and ran off. He was so fast that it didn't take him long to reach the bus.

In the background, you could see Sukuna looking at you through the window. He was already in the bus, his chin in his hands when he waved at you. You waved back.

Great, you thought, you successfully failed keeping Sukuna from your thoughts.

Here's part 3!!! Wasn't content with it for a while, and I've been busy. But now I like it! Omg omg so excited for all the ideas I still have for this story. Next part will be about the first game we're at! Sukuna in action (WOHOOO)! Let me know what you think! <3

taglist: @miakxn @aureliaborea @nonamevenus @silkija @sad-darksoul @joh-ahae @weareundead

[onelittlespiral]

Hey, it's been pretty hard to motivate myself to write lately with my new job, so I want to reward someone who's doing a great job getting his work done lately. I want to give idesofrevolution a nice musky dudebro transformation he'll really love, and hopefully the mystery transformation gives me some more free time to be horny and creative.

Subject: Order #100690

Dear Fred,

Thank you for your recent purchase from The Spiral, home for all your transformation needs! Your order #100690 has been received and is on its way as we speak. Your order includes:

(1) Bro(Musk)_From_Friend(Online; Blog)

(1) Mystery(Self)

Please note that due to the subject’s history with transformations, delivery methods may be delayed or gradual. Expect fulfillment in 2-3 weeks.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

We knew you’d come around and round and round and round…

You couldn’t wait to hear back from The Spiral, checking your inbox every couple of hours for any updates on delivery. Training was slow and boring at the new office, so there wasn’t much to do besides sit through the standard HR videos on one monitor and scroll social media on the other. That was when you received an email notification. You opened it up, and excitement turns to disappointment. Just another boring diversity video. You pop it up on the side, plug in your headphones, and wait for the stock music and graphics to start. Except, this one is different. You are watching from a first person perspective as a man walks into a room and lies down on a couch. The camera captures his enormous pecs, hiding the rest of his torso, as they flex a little. You glance around the office, nervous about who may be watching. Something must be wrong, this can’t be your afternoon assignment. But your eyes are drawn back to the screen when the door opens again and another beautiful man graces the screen. Your eyes fix on his, as he leans into the camera for a kiss. You can almost feel his heat through the screen, and you’re soon relaxed in your chair, watching the show.

As he slowly grinds against you, you subconsciously begin to rub at your own crotch, simulating his movements. You begin to feel a horny fog fill your mind as you begin to buy into the fantasy, beginning to ignore your surroundings and forget about your coworkers. It isn’t long before your dick is fully out, imaging how good it feels to have his soft hands rubbing your hardening member. You don’t even notice how much you are beginning to leak pre-cum, synchronized with when he places his delicate lips on your cock and takes the whole member in one motion. You lean back in your chair and let the waves of pleasure relax your muscles. You begin to feel so heavy, as your arms grow tired of stroking. You place them behind your head, letting this experience overtake you as you continue to have your cock expertly worked by a pro. You begin to match his tempo, thrusting in time. Your grunts are getting deeper as you begin to get close. Your partner feels it coming, and steadies his tempo. He doesn’t want you to come too soon. But the fog in your brain is only intensify, leaving you more aroused by the moment. You aren’t able to hold it in much longer.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum in you, and you better not miss a drop,” you say, and his eyes show understanding. You reach out and tug at his hair, taking control of the tempo as his eyes begin to water. But he doesn’t have to worry for too long. You are soon dumping your load in his stomach, and he cums hands free in turn, as the director gets the money shot.

“CUT! That’s a wrap.”

Your partner gets up and wipes himself down. You just grab your shorts and sit back down on the couch.

It’s going to be a long day of shooting, but you love it. At least here you get to be horny and own it. And, more importantly, get paid. Could be worse. You could be stuck at some stuffy office job. Just then your phone buzzes with a notification. One of your friends just posted, let’s see… oh, @idesofrevolution. Good thing too, you had been worried about Frost. Annnnd a second notification from your management company, The Spiral. They were sending you some confirmation info… something about the Doctor himself coincidentally enough. Seemed to be some details about a movie scene or something meant for him, so probably some mix up. Let’s see what it says…

Dr. Frost was has some background knowledge on our methods from years of research into his own transformation methods. Consequently we took a more gradual approach. Slowly, we began introducing neural waves throughout his day to prime him. In his home, in his car, on his blog, we implemented subtle messages about growth. About muscle. About musk. After all, who needs to waste so much time showering every day? When his deodorant sticks keep going missing, what was the point in buying more? After all, he no longer had much time to go to the store, as he logged off from work and drove straight to the gym every day. At first he wondered why he was suddenly so worried about his health. But as we continued to amplify our waves, he soon stopped worrying. It was natural to want to be strong. It was natural to reek. It was natural to feel good, bro. I’m in control.

As his musk intensifies, he is only conditioning himself to become more and more self indulgent. We began alternating frequencies, sending his testosterone through the roof, driving a new crop of hair growth and keeping his balls plenty full. Between his pit stench and constant gym pump, he is keeping himself at a near constant leak of pre-cum, and quickly soiling any attempt at covering himself up. Not that he cares. He hasn’t showered in a few weeks, only allowing himself tongue baths from whatever gym bro he catches staring and manages to get into his truck for a make out sesh. His memories are evaporated, nothing more than a sweat stain on his favorite cap. His brain is so high on his own supply, our neural waves had to be amplified to get through his brain fog. Hell, he can hardly form a proper sentence, bro. We have taken the liberty of updating his blog to more accurately reflect his new interests. His stories have been replaced with his thirst traps and progress photos. We are satisfied with his progress and have left him to continue his journey of his own, new and improved, free will.

You should really reach out to him sometime. See if he wants to take his modeling career in a new, more exciting direction. Could be fun to suck that musky cock…

Subject: Order #100690 Fulfilled

Dear Fred,

Your order has been fulfilled. We know you have many options, but thank you for supporting The Spiral.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

[butlervibesonly]

Hiii, I like all your fics! I was wondering if you could write a fic with Austin Butler where reader is very pregnant and is in nesting mode.

Thank You!

𝐽𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑎 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 | Austin Butler

• Pairing : Austin Butler x pregnant reader

• Warnings : pregnancy, otherwise just fluff

• Note : Hiiii! Thank you so much, I hope this is what you meant! Also, I'm not from english speaking country, so I had to look up what nesting mode means, hope I understood that well! 🤍

Time flies so fast, yet so slow for you. You're on the begining of 9th month of pregnancy and everything feels so difficult all of sudden. Moving, dressing, cleaning, laying... Simply and shortly — everything. But all of this is reminding you that your baby will arrive soon.

While Austin was already in his protective dad mode, he kind of ordered you to rest. And as much as you wanted him to be happy that you're listening to his words, you're bored just hanging out all day on couch. Which is what you're actually doing now.

You're sitting on the couch, you're hands simply resting on your large belly, and you're you switching movies at tv. Austin comes to the living room with a smile on his face. "What are my lovely girls doing?" he asks. Since the moment you two find out you're expecting a little girl, he can't help but call you and the baby like this.

"I'm bored on the couch as usual. Your daughter probably doesn't mind too much," you reply to him as he kneels in front of you, his hands traveling to rub your belly. Baby girl, as if she recognized her daddy's touch, kicks. "Hi, baby!" Austin's exclaims happily making you smile.

You both are very much excited for your baby girl to be born, but the words can't even explain how much you want this all to be over, and just hold her, kiss her little nose, gently rub her tiny feet. "I'm so bored, Aus!"

"Darlin', I know, but you need to rest-"

“We have to finish the nursery! There’s only few weeks left!" The nursery was, well, completed, but the urge to get something done bites you. "It's all prepared, what else do you want to do?" Austin asks with a curious smile, as he sits down beside you.

"I don't know! I just want to make sure everything is ready for her to arrive," your hand lands on Austin's, as it's still on your belly. Austin chuckles, and presses a kiss on your cheek. "Y/n, we have everything ready. The nursery is done, all the necessary things are bought, everything is in its place. You don't have to worry, ya know"

At this point, Austin's right. It's just been a long time now and the excitement can't be denied. "all we need to care about is when she's ready to meet us." he looks down at your baby bump, caressing it softly.

Even though Austin has convinced you that everything is as it should be, you still need to prepare or do something. "Can we at least check the closet? See what clothes she will wear?" you ask shyly, making a puppy eyes.

Austin sighs with a smile, hand around your shoulders. "If that's what will make you happy,"

You clapped your hands, grin wide from ear ro ear. Not forget to mention — getting up with such a large belly was also a challenge for you. You held out a hand to Austin and he helped you up. A soft but sure laugh came from his lips.

"Don't laugh!" you playfuly smacked his back. "Sorry, I just can't help it, you're so cute like this, sweetheart." You both arrive to the nursery. The room is painted with baby pink painting, the windows are decorated with bright curtains, and the crib is full of all the cute plushies and pillows.

As you open the closet, you see that all the clothes are organized, everything in its place. You take the first onesie on the top, looking at it. It is a onesie that you got from Austin's sister Ashley, where is written Dad's mini. She gave it to you on the baby shower after seeing an ultrasound, from which she concluded that the baby looks exactly like Austin.

You smile, and look at Austin, who is looking at a teddy bear in the crib. As your sights meet, he approches you with a warm smile. "I can't wait for her to be born," he says, wrapping his arms around your waist. "A mini me and you. Can you believe?"

You nod, and kiss him passionately. "We’re not just waiting for a baby. We’re waiting for a whole new adventure.” Austin smiles, his hands traveling to the sides of your belly. “And it’s already perfect,”

You tilt your head up to meet his eyes, heart warming at the way he is looking at you—as if you are the whole world to him.

For a moment, you stand there, watching the nursery you both built— well, probably not both of you, Austin made most things— but it was just perfect. Perfect enough to give your baby girl the life she deserves as you can't wait to be parents.

[girlygraphics]

it is currently 14:21, as i write the (revamped) intro to my blog. A blog that has been long abandoned, other than the occasional likes and reblogs to let others know I'm still #alive. But i also write this as a stressed yr13 alevel students. First exam in 25 days (akschoully ☝️🤓 24 days, 17 hours, 34 minutes and 46, no 45, no 44 seconds left but hey! who's counting??) but weirdly, instead of loading up my psychology flashcards, i decided to restart this page. Procrastinated both things but yall can clearly see where my priorities lie.

it would be very rude, audacious even, if i made an intro without introducing myself. So greetings all, (an: even since seeing @hrrtshape blog, i just LOVE how she writes & want to reward her a golden trophy for inspiring me to pick up such a philosophoful writing style; it reminds me of the good ol' days when i use to read books with sophisticated literature for fun....when i actually had time to waste, now every second feels like it needs to be dedicated to at least one of my subjects), i go by ???......i'm still tryna find out a name for my alter ego. Its not really a act-different alter ego, its more of an alter-ego where i can act like my most authentic self (with a sprinkle of whatever internet media that helped raised me *cough, cough* pinterest, fluttershy games, coryxkenshin and so much more). An alter-ego where i can express my interests freely without worrying about "what if someone perceives me".

*rolls up long ahh bedazzled scroll* what??? can't a girlie be extra in this lifetime??!! anywho, my interests are indie horror games—only when im watching gameplays—, indulging in nolstalgic media, pinterest, reading and writing, video editing, utilising my creatvity in the form of art, making pinterest boards, listening to music while on pinterest. gaming, shifting and law of assumption.

if i could describe myself in 3 words it would definitely be whimsy, bubbly and weird. i'm weird, weird as in glmm with a side of cookies dipped in lukewarm milk before bedtime typa weird. WEIRDO??? now, that's where i draw the line.

So now to conclude this intro and finally start on my pile of undone assignments (i had 2 weeks to do my easter holiday homework and all i got done was REVISION, absolutely bonkers if i say so myself) . I am 7teen, blk shifter and this is my cutesy lil blog where i rant about my drs, shifting, interests, etc and i hope yall enjoy my posts ( ੭ ˘ ³˘)੭‎°｡⋆♡‧₊˚ (also fyi, im a CHRONIC kaomoji user so if yall see me spam tf outta kaomojis in my posts, dont say i didnt warn ya!)

now back to the drafts this post goes until i can finally figure out a cute theme, alterego name + username (something that has people thinking "gawsh darn it" *snaps fingers cartoonishly* "why didn't i think of that")

*taps into mic* testing, testing, 1,2,3, is this mic on?? choosing a name for an alterego-not-so-alterego can be one of the hardest things ever, after alevel chemistry. You want a name that screams the vibe you are going for but at the same time, you don't want it to be a name associated with bad memories + leaving a bitter taste in ur mouth (now i see why choosing baby names are so hard, i apologise to all the parentals out there!). A name that will have people playing (insert favourite song) theme song in their heads whenever they hear it. As for my username, i settled with @girlygraphics. Why?? because i was on pinterest and one of my recommended searches was "girlygraphics". It was like a pink led lightbulb went off and i thought to myself "i love this way this rolls off my tongue". I'm betting £100 that i wont get bored of this username and change it before the end of this month (heh, this is like a HUUUGE loophole because this month ends in 10 days). And for the theme, we are hopping in a time machine & tapping into the minds of 2k21 submakers (with a dash of @foxxiee theme because their whimsyness is #UNMATCHED!!)

as "slow down - chase atlantic" plays in my head, i hover my mouse on the post now button (obvsiously after switching the settings from "save as draft" -> "post now) and ready to indulge to this whimsical metaverse of shiftblr.

𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐘𝐆𝐑♡𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐒 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄

boundaries! . solar system . a brat's brain . 75 day hard challenge . vaunts from a pretty princess . other/misc . shifting storytime's b4 slumber

post ib: @hrrtshape , & 2k21 submaker luvcore aesthetic

divider creds: @strangergraphics @sweet2000s

[chochuuya]

manga genres.

matsuno chifuyu x fem!reader

disclaimer/note: lots of bickering, chifuyu is a hardcore, he called you a dork and actually roasts you bad but.. finally breaks his christmas curse? (｡- .•)

wc: 1.6k [1668]

you both can never get along when it comes to your manga preferences.

“shut up.” chifuyu sneers.

“no, you shut up!” you say in return.

it’s been about 30 minutes since you first started arguing. chifuyu is a softie at heart, and enjoyed the romance genre. while you were a person of action, enjoying the thriller genre much more.

“the art style is so much better. i don’t even know how you can read a story with such bad flow!” he argued.

you scoffed, turning your head away for a second before looking back at him.

“bad story flow? how dare you. as if your fav isn’t so predictable and mundane, chifuyu. trust me, action is sooo much better than romance.”

“well at least my favourite doesn’t have bad character development! at least they have likeable characters with diverse personalities, compared to your fav show where everyone is plain and boring.” chifuyu says, clearly not going to budge.

“oh, and your fav also has shitty romance.” he adds with a smirk.

he’s getting annoying, you swear you could punch his dumb face but you decided against it.

“well, at least my manga has plot twists and actually keeps their audience wanting for more! your romance? twelve episodes and we’re done. you can just read another of the same genre and you’ll get same plot every time.”

“oh no plot twists, huh?” chifuyu retorts gleefully.

“like who died in the latest chapter or some other bullcrap like that? i rather read and watch something where i can relax and enjoy.” the blond says, “you know, something that doesn't overstimulate your brain.”

“and plus, with romance i get to enjoy some sweet and spicy scenes that i like so much.”

he adds cheekily, “besides, i hate waiting a week for the next chapter. romance is much better than that.”

you scoffed in disbelief. the audacity and ego of his is something else.

“maybe your attention span is just too short to be watching or reading action, chifuyu!”

“and maybe your brain is a bit too simple compared to mine.” he retorts snarkily, “maybe you need constant action and stimulation to keep you entertained, because you get bored too easily.”

“and, it doesn’t matter how long a manga or anime is, it’s the enjoyment and the quality of it that counts. and clearly romance does it best.” he adds smugly, knowing he’s won in his eyes.

you actually rolled your eyes at his reasoning.

“maybe your authors keep dragging the story because they know romance and slice of life is just too simple without any action in it! yeah, what about that?”

“not to mention some of your favourites are quite questionable, chifuyu. what was it again.. oshi no ko? fruits basket? yuck!” you added.

chifuyu chuckles in amusement at your annoyance.

“you know what else is funny? i bet you can’t watch a romantic comedy without feeling cringe or getting embarrassed. and i mean real romcoms, like wotakoi and kaguya-sama.”

"and yeah, they’re my favourites, the anime just elevated them more. i mean come on, they’re cute and funny! and oshi no ko’s mystery and drama, even the comedy at times! how can you hate them?!” he states, annoyed.

“you bet i do, i don’t know how you feel all giddy inside when watching or reading them. maybe you’re just a hopeless romantic!”

you laughed wholeheartedly at your own remark.

“kaguya-sama? even i know better romances than you, ao haru ride and kimi ni todoke is so much better.”

“you know nothing, (y/n).” chifuyu says, amused.

“i admit kaguya-sama has its flaws, but it’s so damn good too. and ao haru ride is nothing but a sad, slow-burn romance that is painfully boring." he says, feeling a bit annoyed at your remark.

“and kimi ni todoke? again, slow-burn that is a bit too cliché.” he adds before saying, “i’d rather read or watch wotakoi. that’s a much better romance manga.”

you sighed in defeat. just hurts your throat trying to even get your argument against him.

chifuyu laughs, “told you! you clearly don’t know enough about manga and anime. you should learn from me, (y/n)!”

“and maybe, just maybe, if you try to change your tastes in manga and anime, you’d start attracting people who like the same thing as you.” he smirks, knowing he hit a nerve with that last comment of his.

you nudged him.

“you say that as if i don’t hear you complaining every christmas that you can’t get a girl, chifuyu. shut up!”

he goes silent, a slight redness creeping into his skin, “h-hey, c’mon! you didn’t have to point that out!” he says, trying to defend himself.

“besides, one day i’ll get a girlfriend.. just you wait—” he grumbles, looking away.

“yeah, whatever. i would probably be dead before you even can get yourself a girl.”

he goes silent again. his face seems to get redder, his annoyance clear.

“what’s that supposed to mean? you think i can’t have a girlfriend?” chifuyu retorts, annoyed.

he didn’t appreciate you mocking him like that.

“um, yeah. every time a girl talks to you, you chicken out. be grateful that i stayed.”

his face turns to disbelief at your words, still red with anger.

“i chicken out? chicken out?! that’s rich coming from you, who’s too scared to ask anyone out on a date.” he says, not backing down.

“and at least i’m not an introvert who gets anxiety whenever they meet new people, scared of embarrassing themselves and avoiding any and all social situations.” he adds, being as brutal as he can be.

your jaw dropped but you quickly compose yourself. don’t let him get to you just yet!

“h-huh? what do you even know about dating?! i bet i have more chance than you do, chifuyu.”

he chuckles in amusement at your outburst.

“oh you’re just all bark, no bite, (y/n). i’ve been on a few dates, sure maybe none of them really lasted, but at least i’ve been on some. you can’t say the same, can you?”

“and i doubt anyone would wanna go out with a dork like you anyway,” he adds with a smirk.

you had enough. you stood up from the floor of his room and exited the door. wow, so much of a hangout!

“hey hey hey, where do you think you’re going, (y/n)?” chifuyu taunts, standing up and walking towards you.

“the conversation isn’t over yet, now is it?” he adds.

“i’m going home.” you said plainly as you walk down the hallway.

“no, you’re not," he says, grabbing you by the arm and stopping you from continuing your walk.

“who says you can leave now?” he asks, annoyed and determined to carry on with his argument.

you nudged your shoulder, removing your arm from his grasp as you continue to ignore him.

coincidentally, baji came and opened the door. poor guy must be confused to see you leave right after. he stepped aside as chifuyu tried to chase after you.

“hey! what gives you the right to ignore me like that?!” chifuyu shouts, watching you walk out of the front door.

“damn it!” he yells angrily at you as you walk away with your nose in the air.

“way to go, chifuyu.”

“kindly shut up, baji-san.”

the next day at school, you were not in the mood. maybe his words got to you yesterday.

you stare into the void of your locker as you got your books out slowly.

chifuyu notices something is off with you. he decides to walk up to you as he sees you get your books out slowly, looking at you with a concerned expression.

he decides not to bring up the argument you had yesterday, for he knows his words can cut deep sometimes.

“hey (y/n), are you alright?” he asks quietly.

“hm.” you simply hummed in response as you shove your books into your backpack. you adjusted the straps before closing the locker and walks towards your class.

chifuyu follows you. he decides not to follow up with his previous question, and instead makes an attempt at being friendly.

“can i walk with you?”

“sure.”

he walks alongside you, feeling quite uncomfortable with your silence.

“so, um, do you mind if i ask what’s got you so down?” he asks, as he walks with you to class.

“was it that argument we had? or something else..?” he asks again, genuinely curious.

“maybe next time don’t call me a dork when you know i dislike it, chifuyu. i get it, i’m sensitive sometimes but—”

“that was yesterday, is that why you’re pissed at me still?” he asks, not fully understanding the situation.

“besides, i wasn’t being serious, (y/n)! we’re friends, you’re no dork.. i’m sorry okay?” he says, feeling a bit saddened.

“and besides, i like it when you’re sensitive. it’s adorable.” chifuyu says with a small smile. he felt that admitting that is rather embarrassing, but he wanted to reconcile with you.

you paused on your tracks as you look up to him. “did he just.. call me adorable?”

“come again?”

“you heard me.” he smirked.

“you being overly sensitive is such an adorable trait to have. not to mention, i would prefer my future girlfriend to be somewhat sensitive, instead of being a cold and mean person.”

he said it all so boldly that makes your mouth hangs open slightly. your cheeks are betraying you already.

“what..?”

he can see your cheeks getting slightly red tinted now. he was getting flustered himself.

“i.. uh..” he stammers.

“i mean, everyone would want their future partner to be someone they like. and i like you, (y/n).”

“plus, what i said is the truth. people do think you’re cute and adorable whenever you’re overly sensitive. even your anger is adorable.” he adds, giving it his all to persuade you into admitting you like him.

he’s clearly into you now.

and, you have no choice but to answer.

please do not steal, copy, translate, repost to other sites or claim my writings as your own. plagiarism is real!

chifuyu is so cute (i am biased) and a fluffy fluff is what he deserves (ง ˃ ³ ˂)ว ⁼³₌₃⁼³ i hope you like this one~ all reblogs & likes are vv appreciated!

[hochsleep]

Chapter 1: Just survive somehow

• Era: Season 1

• Warning: profanity, typical TWD violence.

• Summary: You and your little sister Lottie have to escape from the walkers in the forest. You both almost become lunch for the living dead, but suddenly you are rescued by a stranger, and thanks to persuasion you manage to get to his camp in the quarry. But it seems that the relationship between you does not work out. You will have to find an approach to him, because otherwise you will not survive.

• Word count: 4k

• A/N: Well, I've written...something. I actually have no idea how I'm going to combine this fanfic and the Daryl Dixon x OC fanfic on ao3 (there's a link in the pinned post on my profile page if you're interested), but I'm going to try. Yeah, I literally wrote in an introductory post a couple weeks ago that I wouldn't be writing big works on Tumblr and where are we now? I haven't been very consistent in what I've said. Anyways, posting the first chapter now.

I know it might be a bit boring in the beginning now, I'm not a big fan of the first episodes or chapters in series and books myself, but you have to start somewhere. I'm still just getting into the subject of Y/N fanfics, so I'll be learning as I write the work. What I can say now.

Please correct me in the comments if you find mistakes! Of course, I double-check my work before publishing, but something could still slip through. Especially since you, as an English-speaking audience, will be more attentive to turns of speech, slang and so on. Let me remind you that English is not my native language and I use a translator (you can read more about it in the attached post in my profile). So feel free to make corrections, I am always open to help and constructive criticism!

Oh, and also, congrats to everyone on the release of TWD: Daryl Dixons season 2!

Enjoy reading!

Then.

"Come on, Lottie, hurry up!" - you shouted to your little ten-year-old sister, who ran after you between the trees in the forest.

“Y/N!” a little girl shouted, following you but lagging behind every now and then.

A few walkers was getting closer, and it was like Lottie could barely move her legs. She had to run faster. She should have saved herself. But could you blame a ten-year-old girl? She’d had to lose her family and friends in the last few days, and there were the living dead walking the earth. The world has changed at the snap of a finger. Lottie probably still hoped it was just a bad dream.

You too.

You had to watch your neighbor across the street, Mrs. Faulkner, pounce on your mother and start biting chunks of skin off her neck without much effort. That's hardly realistic. But that's life now. All those radio warnings about a virus spreading in Europe turned out to be true. That it was incurable. That the dead will rise up and walk the earth again. That their bite would kill you and make you come back to life after a while. It all seemed so distant and unrealistic that you, like most Americans, just changed the channel on the TV or radio when you heard the news of the virus again. After all, there's been a lot of crap and "incurable" diseases throughout human history. If a plague in the Middle Ages couldn't kill the entire world's population, why would some disease do it in 2010 when medicine is booming almost everywhere in the world? Bullshit.

Where are you now? Running with your little sister through the woods while at least four walking corpses are chasing you? This whole thing really does feel like a cheap horror movie. Or a scary dream. A scary dream in a cheap horror movie.

“Lottie! You can’t stop!” you screamed while your little sister looked back and slowed down at every opportunity.

You had a hard time running yourself. Not that you’ve been a fanatic about physical activity in all the years of your life. Yoga and Pilates were your max and only on feel-good days. But the adrenaline in your blood was doing its thing and it allowed you to run faster and longer. Which was not the case with your sister. The girl was tired and breathing hard. She kept looking back to see how close the walkers were to the two of you, even though you had forbidden her to look back.

“Y/N, they’re close! They’re going to catch up with us!” shouted Lottie panting.

You started frantically looking around for a place to take cover. Apparently Lottie wouldn’t be able to run for much longer. You were breathing hard, too, and your legs were sore from the exertion. You had to hide. But where the hell could you hide in the middle of the woods? In the long run, you could hide behind a large tree, but the walkers had already spotted you and were following you, so that option was no longer viable. Climb a tree? You could if you knew how to climb trees. But even so, how long can you and Lottie stay in a tree? You’d have to come down sooner or later, and walkers don’t feel tired or weak, so you couldn’t expect them to give up and fall asleep at some point. No, they’re going to wait until the food comes down from the tree. And again, you can’t climb trees. But Lottie can. What are the chances she’ll agree to climb a tree while you distract the walkers? What’s the chance you’ll survive? How’s she gonna get back down and survive in the woods alone? She’s barely ten years old, for goodness sake, and she didn’t get out into the wild until the last few days! You're all she's got. She's all you have. So it’s just the two of you hiding and surviving together.

“Come on, sweetie, just a little more!” you grabbed your sister’s hand and dragged her forward.

Now.

“Carl! That’s not fair!” shouted Lottie as the boy stuffed the last five hazelnuts into his mouth and grinned cockily.

“It’s all fair, whoever got there first takes it all,” Carl said with his mouth full.

“I’ve just turned my back and you’ve already eaten it all! We’re out of nuts!” frowned Lottie.

“Daryl will find more when he goes hunting,” Carl only shrugged innocently.

“Then you’ll have to ask him yourself,” Lottie snorted and got up from the plaid she and Carl were sitting on.

Lottie approached Carol and Sophia, who were ironing clothes. Sophia’s father was a cruel man as far as Lottie could tell. He had forbidden his daughter from playing with the other two children at camp simply because he had decided to. And now the creepy man sat on a folding chair with a bottle of beer in his hand and strictly made sure Sophia stayed close to her mother and helped her with her “women's responsibilities” as he called it. It sucked.

“Hi, Sophia,” Lottie smiled at the girl, “and Mrs. Pelletier,” she nodded to Carol.

“Hello, honey,” Carol smiled gently at the girl. Sophia looked at her father warily and not noticing the vehement objection on his face, she smiled and nodded to Lottie.

“Carl ate all the nuts, but I brought you what I managed to salvage,” Lottie pulled a few hazelnuts out of the pocket of her jean shorts and held them out to her friend.

“Thank you,” Sophia said quietly and quickly tucked the nuts into her pocket while her father turned away.

“When can you play with me and Carl? Maybe tonight?” asked Lottie hopefully.

“Maybe tomorrow?” answered Carol for Sophia when she saw her head lowered frustratedly. “I’ll talk to Daddy, honey,” said the woman to her daughter, stroking her back.

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Lottie sighed and went on to find something else to do besides playing with Carl. She was still mad at him a little about the nuts.

You were on duty on the roof of Dale’s motorhome, a kindly older man who tried to change you every twenty minutes and told you to go get some rest. But the duty was actually a rest. You just sat on a folding chair on the roof of the car and watched the surroundings. Dale and Glenn were basically doing the same duties, only with a shotgun in hand. Just in case. You weren’t trusted with a shotgun. It didn’t make much sense since you couldn’t shoot. And you weren’t very good at close combat. So you just had to keep an eye on the area around the camp and warn them of possible danger. It’s no big deal. Except that the merciless Georgia sun was as hot as anywhere in Africa. It seemed that way to you, anyway. You were sweating in every part of your body, your hair sticking to the damp skin on your back, your clothes wet with sweat, and you were as tanned as if you’d gone to a tanning salon. The only thing that kept you warm was the powdered lemonade Dale had made, some old nature magazine from the glove compartment of Shane’s jeep, and the cowboy hat Andrea had lent you. Even though you've spent the last ten years of your life in Georgia, you've managed to hide from the heat until this day. Whether at home in your stepdad's garage under a fan while he blames his barely living car. Or at work in the supermarket by the house. There were old air conditioners that you thought were your age, but you didn't complain as long as they worked. Especially hot days you spent in a cozy old cafe from the 50's, where your mother worked as a waitress and let you lounge for hours in the coziest booth close to the fan. In general you had no need to sit under the sun in such hellish heat without a hint of shade. How could there be any shade on the roof of an old mobile home? You have to melt like a piece of butter on toast.

You heard someone climbing up the ladder to the roof. It definitely wasn't Dale, you'd have realized from his static grunts. It was Lottie. Her old pink cap appeared before you saw your sister.

“Hey,” you smiled at your little sister, “I thought you were hanging out with Carl and Sophia.”

“Carl’s a jerk today, and Sofia can’t play with us, her dad won’t let her,” the girl snorted and sat on your lap, because sitting on the sun-hot roof of the car wouldn’t be a good idea.

“Hey, I’d take a swear jar from you right now,” you tried to look at Lottie with a stern big sister look, but it never really worked. It looked ridiculous and hardly got any respect from the kid.

“Sorry,” the girl sighed, “but Carl is really behaving badly today. He ate the last of the nuts while I was distracted and didn’t even have a chance to protect them…”

“Are you really upset about the nuts?” you chuckled.

“No, more of an injustice…I was hoping we’d split the nuts fairly between the three of us, but Carl ruined it,” Lottie rested her head on your shoulder sitting on your lap.

It was so damn sweet. The way Lottie loves you. There’s often tension between sisters, but not in your family. Charlotte was born when you were 13 and that’s a really big difference, but you always wanted a brother or sister. And even though sometimes you had to miss seeing your friends to take care of Lottie when Mom and your stepfather, your little sister’s father, were working late, you still loved Charlotte with all your heart. Although it’s hard not to love her. She had a mild-mannered personality, rarely acted cranky, and sometimes acted like a little adult. At least you were a more rambunctious child at her age, according to your mother and other relatives. Only as you got older did you become a calm and peaceful person, and as a child you could afford to kick the asses of the boys who hurt you in junior high school. Charlotte, on the contrary, preferred to solve conflicts peacefully and disliked violence already at the age of ten. The age when children can be really violent, but your sister was not. Now, however, she seems to be really angry with Carl. But it’s probably because of all the stress you’ve both been under for the past three weeks. Everyone’s been on edge right now. That’s the way the world is now.

“I’ll find you some new nuts in the woods,” you said, stroking your sister’s soft hair.

“You’re afraid to go into the woods,” sighed Lottie.

“I’ll ask Glenn or Amy to come with me.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to ask Daryl? “Lottie looked at you in anticipation.

Oh, that’s right. Daryl. Well, that was a bit of a problem.

Then.

You tugged at Lottie’s arm, who was stumbling at almost every step. The walkers were coming faster and faster. Your courage and confidence were running away from you just as fast. But you did not let go of your sister’s hand and kept moving forward.

“Y/N!” the little girl’s shrill cry echoed throughout the forest.

You turned around and saw one of the walkers grab the hood of Lottie’s sweatshirt. A tall man with a rotten open wound near his collarbone, with gray cadaverous skin, white eyes, and rotten teeth and nails. Death itself came closer than ever to you and your sister. And you had no idea what to do.

“No! Let her go!” you screamed in panic at the walker as if he could understand you.

“Y/N!” large tears flowed down the little girl’s cheeks.

You closed your eyes, preparing for the worst. You knew it would happen sooner or later. From the moment your neighbor ate your mother. From the moment your stepfather John set himself up to feed the walkers two days ago so you and Lottie could escape. Since the world died. You knew you were going to die, too. And your ten-year-old sister, who didn’t have time to live. It has to happen, whether you’re ready or not. But you are ready. Death has taken over the world now, and who are you to fight it? You just hoped that you and Lottie wouldn’t have to suffer and…

With a dull thud, the arrow pierced the forehead of the walker that had grabbed Lottie and he finally fell to the ground dead. Lottie threw herself into your arms without thinking, wrapping her arms tightly around your waist and sobbing into your chest. You looked around in incomprehension until you saw a man with a crossbow. He put down the remaining three walkers with the remaining arrows. Clearly and without missing. Like he’d done it every day before the outbreak.

Man paused, looking at you and Lottie sobbing in your arms, and then without a word walked over to the corpses to pull his arrows from their skulls. Right now, however, you didn’t have the strength to say a few words. You didn’t have the strength to say a barely audible “thank you” for saving your life. The man looked at you, chewing his lower lip and without saying anything, lowered his head and walked away as if nothing had happened now. It would have been nice to stop him. But you were still standing still.

Now.

Daryl was sitting on a log outside his and Merle’s tent on the outskirts of the rest of the camp. He was cleaning squirrel blood off his arrows and hunting knife. Well, thanks to him, the camp wasn’t starving. Lottie and Sophia didn’t like eating something cute like squirrels, but there’s no choice. And while you weren’t thrilled about it either, better squirrels than the inedible berries you and Lottie had been poisoned with before you got to camp at the quarry. It was… unpleasant. You almost silently approached his “Dixon den,” as Shane called the tent of the brothers who preferred to stay away from the main group. But for an experienced hunter and tracker like Daryl, it wasn't hard to hear the branches crunching under your feet. Of course he noticed. Daryl turned toward you, where you froze for a moment between the bushes and snorted.

“What do you want, girl?” he asked, staring again at the dirty arrow in his hand..

“Hey,” you smiled shyly and moved a little closer, not noticing the vehement protest on his part. “Am I interrupting you?”

“If I tell you what you’re doing, will you leave?” Daryl didn’t look away from his work, still not looking at you.

“I don’t know…I guess?” you shrugged uncertainly. You didn’t want to annoy him, but you had promised something to your little sister. And yourself too.

“So what do you want? A chat? That’s not for me,” Daryl shook his head.

“I wanted to ask you for help to be honest,” you pursed your lips as you always did when you felt uncomfortable.

“Try it,?” Daryl finally lifted the piercing gaze of his gray-blue eyes to you and you felt even more uncomfortable.

“Take me with you on your next hunt,” you blurted out, deciding it wasn’t worth beating around the bush. Not with Daryl Dixon.

“No,” he answered immediately and went back to cleaning his weapon.

“Daryl, please,” you insisted. Not that you expected him to answer any differently. “I need to learn at least the basics of wilderness survival. You probably remember the state you found me and Lottie in in the woods…I can’t let that happen again.”

“Why? You’ve warmed up to a camp with people who can handle weapons. Just stay close to them,” Daryl snorted.

“I’m not stupid, Daryl, I realize this isn’t forever and sooner or later we’re all going to have to separate. When that happens, there’s no one to protect Lottie but me,” you sounded more determined than usual. Of course, it took a few days to pull myself together. “So I’m asking you to help me. Teach me how to track prey and how to tell poisonous plants from edible ones. Please.”

“Look, you’re sure of yourself, huh? Coming in here and making demands like I owe you,” Daryl was starting to get annoyed, it was obvious. He didn’t like the way you were being pushy, asking him for something like you had a right.

“I’m not making demands, I’m asking for help,” your confidence began to wane after his words. Daryl didn’t know you well. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have had the nerve to call you cocky. Or just at least a little bit of confidence.

“I’ve already helped you out on my own head…I won’t do it again, you’re not a goddamn charity case here,” Daryl chuckled.

“Okay, then what do you want in return?” you asked firmly.

The question wasn’t about your curiosity about wildlife, your life and your little sister’s life depended on you. Your only family. This is not a case where you can afford to back down and give up.

“As if you have anything to offer,” snorted Daryl dismissively.

"What would you want?" you asked, hugging yourself tighter around your shoulders in a protective gesture.

Daryl's right. What the hell could you offer him? In this current world, money has no value. Not that you had a lot of it, but it was the first thing you thought of out of habit. Then what? Daryl is an excellent hunter who has all the necessary survival skills and is good with a gun. That's why you asked him for help and not anyone else. Shane could teach you how to shoot, which would undoubtedly be very useful in the current circumstances, but it's not enough to survive in the woods without a group. Not without someone like Daryl, who is as well adapted to life in the wilderness as you could tell from a week of knowing him.

Back to the question, what could you offer him? What would Daryl Dixon want?

"I want you to talk less and get back on your own," Daryl squinted looking at you for a few seconds and then lowered his head again. The conversation wasn't going well.

"Why did you save me and my sister in the forest? Why did you bring me here? We might live a little longer being in a group, but when this is all over, we're both going to be eaten, so why did you have to build up to this moment?"

Daryl was silent. Like that day a week ago before he brought you to camp. Really, why did he do that? He felt sorry for Lottie. A dirty little girl, messed up to death. You didn't look like you really tried to save her during the walker attack and Daryl wondered why. How scared were you? Didn't believe in your own strength? Did you want to die? He didn't know. But he knew for sure he wasn't going to let a child be eaten alive by a rotting reanimated corpse. Not in this world. Would Daryl have helped you if you were alone in the woods? He wasn't sure. You seemed resigned to your situation and didn't try to escape, so why would he rescue you?

He already did anyway. And dragged you both to the camp. And then that same night he had a fight with Shane, who wasn't sure about the idea of leaving you here. And he got a good laugh from Merle, who thought he was being too kind to someone in the Dixon family. But you don't need to know that. You're lucky it was Daryl and not Merle who came across you in the woods. You'd be wandering around the woods now, rotting from the inside out, wanting nothing more than to eat anything alive. Just like your sister.

"Your sister needed a place and I helped you, that's the whole story," Daryl only nodded his shoulder.

"Why?" you persisted.

"Damn it, girl, what are you babbling about! I helped you, who cares why?" Daryl frowned and abruptly stood up from his seat in a flash of anger.

"I just..." you cringed at his loud tone and backed away slightly.

"Stop bugging me with this, okay? I saved you and your little girl, that's it! That's all you're gonna get from me, you understand? I don't want to teach you anything, I don't need you, save yourself!" Daryl waved his hand, yelling at you and you didn't even realize why you pissed him off so easily.

You looked at him frowning in incomprehension. Why the hell is he yelling at you for no good reason? And looking so angry, like you'd done something terrible to him. You didn't understand Daryl Dixon and his mood swings. That's why you tried to stay away from him, especially the first couple days. You were grateful to him for saving you, but he didn't seem like someone you'd easily connect with. And Daryl had just proven that to you again. You only came to him with the request because no one else could handle it but him. But apparently he's really not interested in this at all. You didn't want to and couldn't force him. You just hoped that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't as rude and aloof as he seemed at first glance. After all, he wouldn't have saved you if he was the way he showed himself to others. You'd just have to find a way to approach him and then maybe something would work. But now you weren't so sure.

"Well?! Don't look at me like that, get out of here!" he shouted one last time, turning away from you.

You snorted disappointedly, and after staring at his back for a few seconds, you turned around and hurried back to camp. You were mad at Daryl, that was for sure. Just like Lottie was mad at Carl, but you had a better reason than a handful of nuts. And you might have wanted to yell back at him, but not that it made sense. You'd learned to control your negative emotions a long time ago, and you weren't about to let years of self-discipline go down the drain because of Daryl Dixon. That's on him. Maybe you'll try again later when you've both cooled down, but definitely not in the next few days.

Daryl was difficult, but you have to find an approach to him. Not for your own sake. Certainly not for him. For Lottie. For the chance to prolong her life as long as you could.

Then.

“Hey!” you followed the stranger after a few moments of daze.

You almost lost sight of him, but he wasn’t trying to be quiet, and you could still hear the sound of his footsteps on the leaves on the ground. So as soon as your body began to obey you again, you followed him, holding Lottie’s hand tightly in yours. The man didn’t stop no matter how many times you called out to him. How rude. But in the present world, one didn’t think much of it. And you didn’t know him, but he wasn’t exactly friendly before the end of the world. And yet, you stopped the man from grabbing his wrist when you caught up with him. He turned around and looked at you with a frown, immediately pulling his hand from your barely perceptible grip with force. You seemed to have hit something wrong.

“Thank you,” was the first thing you said when he finally paid attention to you.

“Forget it,” wheezed the man with the familiar Southern accent you never got in the ten years you’d lived in Georgia.

“What’s your name?” you persisted.

“Go where you’re going,” the man snorted and turned away again to walk away.

“I wasn’t going anywhere,” you said before he could get a few steps away from you and Lottie, “I…I mean we have nowhere else to go.”

The man stopped for a moment without turning around, as if thinking about something.

“Do you live somewhere? Somewhere with people? You’re the first person I’ve seen in a week…I mean of living people,” you stared at his back without stopping to speak.

Hope flared in you. If there are still people alive, then you and Lottie have a chance.

But the man didn’t answer, only turned to glance at you. Your tangled hair, tied back in a low ponytail, your dirty knit sweatshirt over your once-white T-shirt, your mid-thigh jean shorts that were also dirty and torn on the side of your left leg, your broken knees with blood on them, your worn and dirty yellow sneakers. He looked at the little girl next to you. She had big eyes like yours. And while yours looked at him with weariness and a mute request you still hadn’t spoken aloud, hers were full of fear. Her long hair, braided into two pigtails, was also disheveled, and twigs and dry leaves were sticking out of it from the fact that she had been on the ground under the walker that had tried to eat her. Her denim overalls were stained with the rotting blood of the living dead, and the hood of the sweatshirt she wore over the rest of her clothes was now torn off. There was only one rubber boot on the girl’s feet, the other having come off in the process of escaping from the walkers. The man thought it must be very uncomfortable to run around in rubber boots. The girl held your hand and appeared behind your back, gingerly looking at her savior.

“Y/N, I’m scared…” said Lottie quietly, pressing her cheek against your hand.

Y/N. The man mistook you for this girl’s mom. A very young mom. But it seems that wasn’t the case. Although the two of you had enough outward similarities to think you were related to each other.

“Do you have a place to stay? Please…we’ve been walking through the woods for three days without food or water,” you asked quietly.

The man looked at you with a piercing stare and was still silent. But he didn’t stay silent for long.

“Please,” Lottie said even more quietly, looking out at him from behind you. And then he gave up.

How could he refuse to help a little hungry girl in one rubber boot.

“Follow me,” he said, looking into your eyes for a second, and then turned and walked on, expecting the two of you to follow him.

Of course you both did. Now the hope in your heart is much brighter.

[jemmo]

ok i was too exhausted to talk about i hear the sunspot last week so now i have 2 weeks worth of ranting saved up and i can feel the tidal wave coming.

edit: i had to add a read more bc this turned into the messiest, most tangent-filled rant. tl;dr idk i just like it

and first off i wanna semi-respond to some discussion ive seen around the show with regards to pacing, that its slow, its frustrating etc. and the extent of my response is... yeah. well, not just yeah. its not that i agree or disagree, its more that i dont have a way to respond that is unbiased or removed from my personal opinion bc i love the show a lot. if i totally detached and looked at it, yeah, maybe i'd think that way. god knows ive said the same thing for many, many other shows and funnily enough its usually one of my least favourite things. at least, i thought it was, but now that i think about it...

ok this is gonna be a tangent but ive now been watching bl and been in the bl space for over 3 years (wow, how did that happen?) and i think its really interesting to think about, and i'd love to hear from others as well, how my taste in bl has changed. what i like, what i dont like, what i value in a show and how much i am willing to invest in or engage with a show. before i got to bl, i was very much looking for bl content. even when i was younger, i was always trying to find queer content and it was usually european, and then in my anime phase i watched all the bl anime, and that led me to cherry magic blah blah you dont need to know the rest. but at that point i was very much hungry to just see queerness on screen. and i mean explicit queerness, not necessary sexual, just like dating and kissing and explicit same sex relationships. and i think in that haze and the height of hyperfixation i watched many shows that i probably wouldnt have the patience to now. i watch a lot less bl now, maybe bc im more busy with work, maybe bc bl is actually getting worse idk, or maybe i just dont have the effort the engage with something when i dont like it, or it just doesnt interest me. and speaking of what i do and don't like, i feel like this lack of patience has also come with this gradual change in what i want for the show. i know bl now, i know its out there, i know more and more is being made every year, im not in short supply of explicit queerness anymore. so now i can be more picky. if i find myself getting bored watching a show, i just wont watch it. and also bc ive been watching bl for years now, i feel like i am developing what my taste in bl is, and thats not exactly something i can describe, for me its more a i know it when i see it kinda thing. thats why i try a lot of shows out but am happy to drop them after a couple of eps when i know i dont vibe with them.

and with shows i dont drop, they usually fall into 2 categories; im actually enjoying it or im just waiting around to see where this goes. and to call myself out, bc of all these things i think it means that im... well, not less critical, but less able to be unbiased when watching a show i do like, bc hey this is the one show out of 10 going on this month that im obsessed with, of course im not gonna be critical of it. and thats not to say i should be critical of i hear the sunspot, more that im not bc my bias and taste just makes me like it. all the things people think are its flaws that i see with other shows, i just dont see, or dont care about, bc i just like it. and thats me with the pacing. in any other show i would probably be bored and impatient. but for me, bc of so many other things, bc of what theyve done with characters in the mean time, bc i just like these characters a lot, the way they interact, the way they think, the whole vibe of the show and what it says, im just not bothered by it. its not an issue to me. and thats my tangent on personal taste and how youre allowed to just not think that a show has flaws when you like it even if other people think its flawed and youre equally critical of other things but anyway.

back to i hear the sunspot. i dont know why i love this slowburn and lack of communication but i just do. maybe its bc the show doesnt feel rushed. ive been frustrated so many other times when shows wait until the final ep for the couple to get together, which im guessing this show is doing, but thats usually bc nothing else about the show is engaging me so it feels like im being left waiting. i dont feel like im left waiting here. here, i feel like everyone as a character is being valued and whatever time i spend with any of them, i love it. i dont find myself waiting until kohei and taichi get a scene together like i have with other shows bc everything else, everything with them individually, everything with maya, with taichi's friends, idk what else to say i just love it all. and that shows bc i cried just as hard at the scene with maya as i did at the scene with kohei and taichi.

and now for just some fave bits, starting with maya. i just love her. people were so ready to be annoyed with her and pick her apart, but i cant scream enough about how amazing it is that the show introduced a female antagonist and managed to, in my eyes anyway, turn her into someone i liked and felt for and just enjoyed watching. finally, a female antagonist that wasnt just disposable after she served her purpose. and whats better is that what we come to learn about her recontextualises her actions when she was first introduced. i just know upon a rewatch that when i first see her acting out and being mean to taichi, i might still be mad at her, but ill also see a girl that is struggling to make it look like she is fine, someone who is trying her hardest to make it appear that she doesnt try at all, that shes fine, shes no burden to anyone, that this huge thing that is scary and difficult to deal with, shes fine with, bc shes just that good, no biggie. that need to make it all seem casual, to not show weakness, is even exactly why she got mad at taichi in the first place, bc she thought he wasnt trying, he was just doing things casually and he was ok with letting people know he wasnt perfect. he didnt take perfect notes and that was ok, he was still trying his hardest. thats like the exact opposite of maya's mindset to be perfect but make it look like shes not trying. and i think that clash was a great thing to add to the show, and so rewarding when taichi finally hit the nail on the head and told her she didnt have to try so hard, that its ok to let, or even make, other people make the effort. its not sympathy or pity, its kindness.

and now for taichi and kohei. there was just so many things that i loved, the scene of kohei cutting onions with his mom, the whole montage in the classroom going through the highlights of taichi taking notes for kohei, the whole vibe at the end where it was never explicitly said but you just knew it was taichi's last day. and i adore the way that kohei didn't ask questions when taichi told him about dropping out, he just had that faith in taichi, there was nothing to question, he believed that whyever it was, whatever it was for, taichi had thought about it and made the decision and that was enough. instead he just talks about taichi, how hes amazing, making him feel good about himself so he can feel both confident in his decision and whatever he does next. and as for taichi, i know we all wanna know why he cant just say he likes kohei and get it over with, but i dont think thats the right sentiment to bring to the show, or at least not the one i have. whatever it is, i just dont mind, bc to me taichi is a person and if he cant bring himself to say it now or doesnt want to or doesnt think its the right time, thats fine. thats the kind of energy gives me anyway, that i shouldnt be pressing these characters for a reason. its similar to how the show doesnt feel rushed, its like im fine if taichi doesnt say it bc theres no deadline, you say your feelings when youre ready and want to and thats just up to him and im not here to rush him, neither is the show. it just gives him the space to figure things out and make his mind up and decide when the time is right, when he isnt on rocky ground with yknow new people being mean to him and making him doubt himself or questioning what he wants to do with his life and taking on something new - like if taichi is overwhelemed by all of that, its fine. and i can hear the argument oh show us that and like yeah, as i said for any other show id say that too but here i dont care. taichi not saying his feelings can be for any reason you want to come up with, the show doesnt need to give us one, nor do we need one to accept he hasnt done it, but also if you want a reason, theres more than enough to draw from the show to come to your own conclusions. that kinda sounds like the most pretencious defence of a show thatsputting off a confession for the final ep but hey its what i think and i vibe with that thinking so there.

honestly, what i feel about this show is that it didn't need to be a bl for me to watch it, bc i adore everything about it that id watch it even if it was just bromance or even pure friendship, but the fact it is that bc its a bl, because it has that romance, it makes it better. and maybe thats why im not bothered by the pacing, bc im not waiting for the bl moments, im just enjoying the show for what it is, for the story its telling, for the characters its created and the message its conveying. and god if i think about it ending next week i will bust a cry so for now, we live in denial.

[missbubblesoda]

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (20)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (26) | (27)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

content warnings: smut where it fits (or where I make it fit. Also, reader is NOT underage, so likewise, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, please.) slow burn (I really mean it. I’m not olympic diving into any form of smut for the first chapters.) no angst. I dislike angst. I would never. I could never. (Although angst can be somewhat subjective so take it with a grain of salt?)

wc: 2.1k

If you were ever asked to describe nostalgia to someone who has never experienced it before, you would say it’s like walking down the hallways of a museum at sunset, with nothing but the sound of your footsteps as company, echoing down seemingly infinite walls decorated with sepia memories that belong to happier, distant times.

For you, nostalgia was always the one who spoke most clearly in the silence, and just like the corridors of that metaphorical museum, it just so happened to be ghost-quiet in your office that evening. And in such solitude, when the only heart beating in the room belonged to you, your otherwise welcoming workspace became an echo chamber of unsought feelings and unwanted thoughts.

You looked at his empty chair. So much for a quick ride. You thought. It had been hours since him and Lord Koch had ventured into the field, and even though the Sun had decided to call it a day, you hadn’t. According to the clock ominously ticking on the wall before you, as well as the animated chatter coming from the dinner hall downstairs, your shift had ended a while ago, yet somehow you found yourself still sitting at your desk, fountain pen hovering over boring administrative stuff you had read at least three times that day, working extra hours, all because you didn’t want to go home.

Not without seeing him first.

Making sure he got back safe was part of the reason, albeit a small one. Because, if you were to be honest, in the end the decision to stay working overtime for free, had come down to something way less noble. It was simple: If you were still in your office by the time he came back, there was a chance of something happening, there was a chance of something changing between the two of you. And that possibility was enough remuneration for you.

Your eyes, however, begged to differ and, tired of looking at the same words over and over, decided to wander around the room until they found the big window behind his desk. The sunset sky, with its sad pinks and nostalgic blues, held nothing but the promise of more loneliness. And that melancholic palette you would’ve otherwise found pretty, as well as the empty chair behind his desk, acted as nothing but a reminder of how much you missed him, and you didn’t mean just today.

You missed how things were back then. You missed the warmth of his skin and the gentleness of his touch. You missed getting drunk on the rich sandalwoods of his hair: musky, earthy, a little sweet, and just the right amounts of spicy. You missed the addictive taste of his lips as well as the velvety, honeyed words that would leave them in your most intimate moments. And most of all, you missed the way his cobalt eyes would make your heart soar whenever you looked his way and found he was already staring.

That was the best feeling.

And it had been so long since the last time you had experienced it.

The calendar would argue it had only been a week, but if that was the case, then that week surely had the personality of a month. The clock would call it nonsense, saying that time was measured and constant. You knew that Leon, however, would agree with you.

‘Alike are time and water.’ He had told you just earlier that day, as he read out of a small leather notebook snippets of what was, in his own words, ‘some nonsense’ he had written on his way there. ‘Flowing slowly one drop at a time, or rushing by in the blink of an eye.’ You rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand. “And then I look at you and watch it freeze, knowing little has it to do with the mesmerizing view, when I find myself in the midst of that algid winter that is you.’

Maybe it was the bright oranges and mellow pinks of the sky you were staring at, or the connotation of endings that sunsets have, but your vision started to get blurry.

And sitting there, listening to the distant clatter of cutlery, unsure if the thing beating in your chest was a knot or a heart, you felt forgotten. Like the stuffed animal nobody packed before moving out, or the grandmother nobody visits anymore. And you had no one else to blame for that.

If you could, you would have pinned everything on time. On how it makes children turn into adults and forget to write home. On how it turns friends into strangers. On how it makes people grow tired of each other. On how it was starting to make him feel fictional, making you wonder if whatever beautiful thing you had, ever even existed.

If you could, you would have excused yourself behind ignorance, hiding under the blanket of confusion, claiming you didn’t know what happened.

You wished you could. But you couldn’t.

You couldn’t, because you knew exactly what had happened. You had heard the words leave your mouth that morning. Very clearly, even through the loud sounds of your own pleasure. You had said them. Words that he probably didn’t need. Words that had been distasteful enough to push him away.

Guess that saying I love you can sometimes make you unlovable, after all.

He did warn you, after all: Scouts don’t start families.

They avoid love.

They don’t marry.

But, who was even talking about marriage?

Beginning to grow frustrated with yourself, you tried to blink your feelings away. But the more you tried, the more they would pour out, and the more your eyes would start to burn as a result.

And that was a problem because, in that very moment, you heard the unmistakable sound of his footsteps down the hallway.

You rubbed your eyes one last time as they approached, trying to erase any traces of your lingering melancholy, and when the door opened, your fingers hurried to fiddle with whatever papers they found in the top drawer of your desk.

You didn’t know if he had even thrown as much as a passing glance your way, but judging by the discreet, distressingly quiet way in which he headed straight to his desk without uttering a single word, you could be forgiven for thinking he hadn’t even noticed your presence at all.

And it hurt. It sure did. His silence was so sharp it stabbed the deepest part of your chest. So loud it broke you like the wailing of singers is said to shatter glass.

But, if you were to put yourself in his shoes, you would understand.

Why would he say anything?

You tried to reason with yourself while your fingers caressed papers and closed drawers.

Why would he say anything to his dumb, incompetent assistant?

If you were him, you wouldn’t utter a single word either, out of fear of being misunderstood. Because, in the presence of someone as foolish as her, any simple, commonplace action could risk becoming fuel for even more stupid, delusional ideas forming in her little head.

However, although it had taken that little head a while, it was finally beginning to understand.

That she was just his clumsy, fuckable assistant who, after opening her legs for him a couple times, had accidentally fallen in love in the process. Nothing more than a stupid, inexperienced city girl who didn’t know anything about life in the Survey Corps.

But that same city girl was starting to learn. Yes, she was was.

You rose up from your chair.

It may take her a while, but she always learned.

You walked towards the fireplace.

And once she learned, she made sure she never forgot. Never forgot that she was hired to make his job easier, not harder. To handle his mail, not to warm the left side of his bed. To administer schedules, not to moan his name. To revise budgets, not to beg for orgasms. To bring him tea, not more problems.

And like so, with all that in mind, you retrieved the kettle from the fire.

It wasn’t hard to believe that the Commander of the Survey Corps had other things in his mind. More important, better things than his foolish, lovestruck assistant.

You carefully poured boiling water into a porcelain cup.

But to this foolish, lovestruck assistant, the problem was accepting all the aforementioned.

You sliced a lemon and watched it sink into the water.

It was hard to accept that he didn’t feel the same way you did. It was hard to accept that his lips didn’t instantly curve at the sight of you, the same way yours did at the mere thought of the cobalt in his eyes, and that little frown he did when he was tired. And you didn’t need to look at him to know he had it on his face right now.

You didn’t demand to be the first thought he had when he opened his eyes, nor the last one when he closed them at night. But you just wanted to be a thought.

Just a thought. Maybe the one he had when the first snow fell, or when new buds sprung upon old trees. When the first rain of the summer fell on him while out on the field, or when a gentle breeze mischievously shifted his hair out of place in the fall. Or when it lovingly caressed his cheeks in passing, just like you would right now.

If you could.

You knew you shouldn’t, but you threw a glance his way. He was sitting at his desk, head down, hand busy on what you guessed was the report about the new horses. And it was so very funny. If you had it in you, you would have even snorted. How something that could bring so much joy could also bring so much pain. And even more puzzling it was, how a heart could feel both at the same time.

He was so beautiful. Sunshine strands falling on his face, hiding the depths of his thoughts. The genius of those strategies that were always several moves ahead of what anyone was capable of.

So attractive. The frown in those jungle eyebrows telling you it had been a tough day for him too.

You forced your eyes to look away.

Of course anyone would fall for him.

You thought as you added a spoonful of honey and watched it melt into the boiling water.

Maybe you could forgive yourself for having done just that.

You picked up the tray with whatever steadiness your trembling hands were capable of, and, in the company of a desperate, uncomfortable hammering in your chest, cautiously made your way towards him, the hesitance present in your footsteps making you feel as if you were in some sort of cage, approaching a wild animal.

It shouldn’t be like this. You had been bringing him tea for months. Every night. Without fail. So, why did it feel as if it was a complete stranger you were about to serve? As if you didn’t know how many cubes of sugar he took or how many spoons of honey he enjoyed.

“Be careful, in case it’s too hot.” You warned him, carefully placing the tray on the empty corner he always left for his tea. “I didn’t know when you’d be coming back, so I wasn’t able to let it cool down first.” You avoided looking at him, although it wouldn’t even matter if you did, because from the corner of your eye you could tell he was doing just the same. Head down, eyes on his papers, just like yours were on the tray, as you took your sweet time adding sugar cubes to his cup.

He likes it sweet. His tea. Very sweet. You reminded yourself, stirring as slowly as you could, praying the sugar cubes would also take their sweet time melting. Because, some hopeful, silly part of you still believed he would say something. You needed to confirm he could still see you. You needed to make sure you hadn’t become a ghost from his past. Not yet.

And for that purpose, even the coldest ‘Thank you. You may go’ would do it for you.

If you couldn’t have his hand to hold or his arm around your shoulders, the smallest word of acknowledgment would be enough.

But when none of those came, you realized you had no choice but to leave. Quietly. Collectedly.

Despite the painful knot stuck in your throat.

Leave. To your room. Where you could take care of it. Where your eyes could bleed an ocean, eroding the boulder-like thing you had for a heart. Chilling what was once warm inside.

“If you don’t need anything else, Commander, may I be exc-”

“Are you going to him?” The sound of his voice made your heart explode inside your chest, and its abruptness left you wondering if he was even talking to you.

You wanted to believe he was, but he kept his head down, pen in hand, unmoving; making it hard for you, in your desperate state of mind, to tell.

“Commander?”

“Are you going to meet him now?” He asked again, and this time his eyes found yours, dissipating any doubts you may have had.

And you would have allowed yourself to indulge in some form of cheer, happy he was starting any sort of conversation with you.

You really would have.

If only his eyes weren’t the color of a midwinter night, starless, pitch black, so dark it was impossible to see what was hiding in them.

But something was for certain: whatever it was, it wasn’t there this morning when he left.

-

next chapter

taglist: @elnyrae @mchlist @angelaevangelion @depitaangeline @ynackerman9499 @afatalheat @pumpkin-toffee @velouria17 @gassytritis @goddessinsweats @nube55 @jeanboyjean @crazychaoticizzy @braunsbabe @erwinawesomeness @apts2000 @lucifers-nipple-piercing

[losers-clvb]

slow burn // one

pairing: lucas samos x nymph!female!reader

summary of chapter: y/n osanos found about her engagement through the red servants' gossip. after months of trying to convince her uncle, lord osanos, to call it off, it's revealed that they have to move the wedding up.

content of chapter: anger, irritation, arguing, the older adults are like the worst people ever, use of y/n, arranged marriage, like one swear word, reader is looked down upon, reader is mean to lucas

word count: 1.9k

Y/N was to marry the Samos boy. There was nothing anyone, including Y/N herself, could do to stop it from happening. She had been trying for months since the news broke to her, news she only found out when she had overheard Red servants while passing by the kitchens late one night. When she had pressed them to find out how they had figured this news out, they were hesitant to tell her, never having seen the young woman so angry before. She wasn’t known for speaking harshly to the help despite most of the other Silver’s doing so. When they finally broke and spilled that it had come straight from the mouth of her uncle, Lord of the House Osanos, she had been speechless. She knew she had to stop it from happening.

“House Samos is full of brutes and maniacs,” she had tried to reason. This only made her parents and uncle angry, all of them becoming even angrier when Volo and his own family had walked in only seconds later, obviously having overheard her comment. He had sneered at her before walking past her, nearly knocking her down in his movements. Ptolemus and Evangeline, his children, seemed not to care too much about her thoughts. The eldest of Volo’s children had only smirked over to her, eyes shining like a cat chasing its prey, while Evangeline looked rather bored. It was Lucas, their cousin and the man she was supposed to marry, who seemed to be the odd one out, looking equally as annoyed as the nymph girl.

Y/N ignored them all and turned to leave the room, knowing whatever they were to speak about she had no say in anyways. It was when she reached for the door, hand resting on the doorknob to pull it open, when she nearly had a heart attack.

“The wedding has to be moved up.” Volo announced to the room. This was unexpected. Everything had been planned to happen within a set number of days. There would be a welcome party for guests two days before, a ladies’ tea and gentlemen’s social hour the day before, then the beautiful wedding. Lucas was to go with the royal family back to Archeon and his wife was to follow. Y/N was supposed to have at least a few more weeks to get used to the idea that she would have to spend the rest of her life tied to someone she didn’t even know.

“What?” She turned to the rest of the room. It didn’t look like Lucas was surprised by this, something that made her scowl. He obviously was given more information and say about his life than she was. He was slightly older than her, and it helped that he was a male in one of the High Houses. Everyone, sometimes including the younger Silvers, looked down on her or at the very least underestimated her. She wasn’t the best in training, having struggled to control her ability until an older age than most. She had excelled in Protocol, but the only person who was proud of that was Lady Blonos herself.

Volo, as usual, ignored Y/N. “It seems the King would prefer to keep the months following Queen’s Trial to be about the Prince and his betrothed. A wedding between two of the High Houses would be… ‘distracting’.” He finished his sentence with a look on his face that said he agreed. He probably did, seeing how everyone believed that his daughter would be the next queen of Norta. Lord Osanos huffed, seeing this change in plans as an inconvenience to his day.

“Fine.” He replied flatly, looking at his brother and sister-in-law. They looked slightly annoyed with the change in plans but knew no one could go above the King. They nodded, looked at each other, and her father spoke.

“Next week.”

----------

It was late. Y/N knew that. It had to be at least 1 AM, and everyone was asleep. Everyone except her and a few Red servants. She should be sleeping herself, but her mind was racing. She couldn’t help but think that this marriage was going to be the worst thing that could ever happen to her. Tossing and turning, somehow never finding a comfortable spot or position to sleep in, she was so frustrated that she could cry. But it was when she thought about running away for the fifth time that night that she decided some warm milk may help her sleep. She threw on her robe, tying it tight in an attempt to help soothe her in case she might run into someone on her way to the kitchens. Mindlessly walking through the halls, she kept her steps light and quiet. She passed guards, some she recognized and some she didn’t. Regardless of that, she nodded and smiled kindly to them all, even when most didn’t even acknowledge her.

Rounding a corner near one of the dining rooms, she looked up from her feet. It was a good thing she had, locking her eyes on a certain blonde guard who she was determined to stay away from until their wedding. Y/N stopped in her tracks, deciding she would take the longer route to the kitchens if it meant not having to walk past him. She turned quickly wanting to get out of that situation as quickly as she could. She would have gotten away too, if it hadn’t been for the table that was directly behind her. She ran right into it, her hip hitting the edge, both making the table move about an inch and what was sure to be a giant bruise right on her side. Her cheeks heated in embarrassment, knowing at least five guards had seen it happen.

“Y/N?” When she heard her name come from his mouth, she cringed. Facing him, she noticed his hand on the hilt of his dagger. She scoffed, narrowing her eyes. She didn't say a word to him yet when she started to walk away from the hall, she heard his footsteps following her. She sighed, walking faster. Of course, he caught up to her, his legs being longer and faster than hers. They fell in step together, no one saying a word for a few moments.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Lucas asked her with a soft voice. She knew he was trying to be kind to her, knew he was trying his best not to piss her off, but the question just made her angrier about their arrangement. She didn’t know why. He hadn’t directly done anything to her. Maybe it was just the circumstances, but the only thing she felt towards him was resentment.

“I can’t.” She answered quickly, voice just as quiet as her steps. Lucas waited for her to elaborate, but when Y/N hadn’t spoken again, he knew she wanted the subject dropped. Unfortunately, he didn’t.

“Why?” This time, Y/N glared at him. She crossed her arms over her stomach, manicured nails catching Lucas’ attention. He smiled slightly at the light peach color.

“You know why.” She bit back, balling her hands into fists. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes from the frustration. The last thing she wanted was for Lucas to see her cry so she angled her head away from him. Lucas’ heart broke at her answer. While he wasn’t necessarily thrilled with the whole situation, it wasn’t the worst thing, was it? Was the idea of marrying him really that horrible? He didn’t understand what he had done to make the sweetest girl had known hate him so much.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized, not just for the marriage, but for his family, for her family, for anything he had done to anger her. Instead of calming her, it did the opposite. Her eyes flared with irritation and she whipped her head to him. The tears had since fallen, any evidence of them having been wiped away by Y/N. Lucas leaned away when he saw the look on her face.

“For what? For having to marry me? For letting your family treat me the way they do? Or is it for the fact that you can’t even hear me crashing into a table without reaching for your weapons?” Y/N burst out, voice louder than before. She saw the doors to the kitchen just ahead, thankful that their time together would soon be over. Just as she went to reach for the door, Lucas’ hand fell onto her shoulder. They locked eyes, Y/N seeing that the softness in his eyes had been replaced by a burning fire of annoyance.

“You’ve got to be kidding me! You’re mad about that?” He was angry, only a bit. He couldn’t believe that the little moment in the hallway would really have stuck with her that much.

“Yeah, I am! You can’t even try to solve a problem without resorting to violence!” Her voice was getting louder and by that point a few Red servants had opened the kitchen doors a crack to see who was making such noise at that hour.

“It’s my job, Y/N. I have to protect the royal family, the kingdom of Norta! The Scarlet Guard is running around and I wasn’t sure if they had broken in.” He seethed back.

“Spare me the bullshit, Lucas.” She scoffed out. “You’re just like the rest of them. You’d rather kill first, ask questions later, if it makes your life easier.” Y/N pulled away from him, ignoring the way her arm felt colder without his touch. Lucas didn’t move. He couldn’t believe what she had said. He was kind, was he not? He still couldn’t figure out why she was acting so cold towards him, why she could be loving towards everyone else but couldn’t even find a way to act civil with him. After a moment of contemplation, he entered the kitchens.

Red servants milled about, preparing vegetables and meats to be cooked in the morning. They ducked their heads when he passed, acknowledging his rank as a Silver guard. He spotted Y/N in the corner, chatting with an older Red as she waited for milk to warm. She was smiling, talking kindly with the woman. After pouring the liquid into a cup, she bid the woman goodnight before exiting out a different set of doors. Lucas followed her, keeping himself a few steps behind in an attempt to keep her calm. It didn’t work.

“Don’t follow me.” She spoke over her shoulder, continuing to walk. As the walked, Lucas looked to the other guards in the halls. They raised their eyebrows to him, eyes full of amusement. They knew the two were betrothed to one another. They also knew that, for whatever reason, Y/N couldn’t stand the Samos male.

“I’m just making sure you make it back to your room safely, as I would for anyone else.” He told her.

“I’m not completely helpless. I can protect myself.”

“You’re not helpless.” Lucas echoed back. Y/N didn’t speak again after that, not knowing what to say to that.  It sounded as if he thought she was more than a little Nymph girl who had once cried when Instructor Arven told her she was weak.

They reached her door together, Lucas having caught up with her somewhere along the way. She stepped inside, eyes flitting to the ground so she didn’t have to look at him. As she closed the door, she heard one last thing from him.

“See you next week."

[beesmygod]

So in like novel writing circles (the ones I jerk in at least) the advice is to just cut the "boring" stuff as much as possible if you can't make it ya know not the boring bit- even if you just fill it with fun character interactions or something- BUT obviously webcomics are a different medium and one known for its ability to go on very long times and (at its best at least) use that sorta allowance to explore a lot of a world etc etc, so after seeing your posts about people maybe not liking the AGS "boring bits" (note: I've never particularly felt AGS had them if only on the basis of like filling it with fun character stuff etc) what you think about that in terms of structure and pacing and such in webcomics

its a relief to hear that people arent bored stiff by a comic that started out as a "monster of the week" type and has drastically changed into slice of life with criminal conspiracy or whatever it is now. it has a point, i swear. it took me some time to see it forming in the ingredients i laid out but i see it clearly now

the slow drip-line nature of webcomics is what makes the medium truly uniquely exhilarating and also uniquely frustrating lol. most webcomics update a single page at a time, right? and you have to keep in mind while making your longform story-driven webcomic that you're juggling entertaining two different readers: the archival reader and the per-update reader. these readers are, by the nature of the medium, going to have wildly different experiences with the text. what is quick and breezy for the archival reader can be prolonged torture for the per-update one. the per-update reader might have been waiting to finally pay off for literal years, building a type of tension that the archival reader will never be able to experience themselves.

a comic a week is a breakneck speed for people doing all the lifting themselves, but only ("only") equals out to 52 pages a year. i do 2 a week so for me its approx 104 and its been 10 irl years to get to this point in the story. i also make my money "per page" because i think i should only be paid for work i actually do. so each individual page has a literal dollar amount attached to it that hovers over my head like the axe i mentioned earlier. it is extremely hard to try to make every page "worth" what people pay for it, knowing how precious money is when times are tough. and also just, you know, because people going out of their way to click on my page should see something worth seeing.

i spend more time with these pages than anyone so i get sick of looking at and thinking about them long before anyone else even sees them. one problem ive noticed is that i will come up with what i think is a funny joke and by the time the page is done, its not funny anymore and i struggle to imagine other people laughing at it. then i think "i dont want to read this, why would anyone want to read this. this sucks."

recently i had to re-read my own old pages, something i dread having to do, and was dismayed by how it read in the archival sense. in my attempt to make every page "worth reading/making" every page ended with a punchline and developed a monotonous rhythm i've been trying and failing to get out of. iambic pentameter ass comic.

i forgot my point. uhhhh san dimas high school football RULES

[oliviax727]

Language Update #1

I'm writing this post on the day my duolingo streak has reached 30. Combine that with rosetta stone, and I've done approximately 10 hours of language learning total, or 20 mins/day.

Now it hasn't all been exactly 20 mins per day, some days it's a lot less, some days it's a lot more, but what I also have to add is that I only did 10 days of rosetta stone.

Duolingo vs Rosetta Stone

Generally, I've found that duolingo has been better for my education than rosetta stone. Yes, the funny bird app works better than the "serious" language course. Here's a few reasons why:

Flexibility

Rosetta stone is not very flexible. It's very rigid in it's structure. You are typically required to spend 30 minutes per day on learning, 5 days a week.

Not just that, but you don't really have much options outside of progressing forward, there are auto-planned revision, speaking, reading, writing, and listening lessons.

This, at least to me, is unsustainable.

There are going to be a lot of days where I won't have the time, capacity, or drive to do much learning.

Often I want to change what I'm doing. Instead of continuing forward, I might want to brush up on speaking or revise previous words etc.

With duolingo, the only requirement is that I learn for at least a 3-minute lesson each week. And I don't even need to do a lesson, I could choose that time to review a previous one for example.

Encouragement to Learn

You might think that a minimum of 3 minutes a day is not substantial to learning a language.

Duolingo is gamified, it is full of these little jingles, and animations, that hit your brain right in the dopamine pathway. It's addictive, and that's a good thing.

It encourages you to keep going, to motivate yourself to do more. I end up spending an average of 10 minutes a day thanks to this. Which is much more manageable than 30 minutes.

Rosetta stone on the other hand is slow and cumbersome. It feels like it takes longer to complete a lesson and often becomes a bore. In everything, from the speed of the animations, to how long it takes to turn on the microphone ....

Overwhelming Pace

When learning, well, anything that involves memory, the best way to do it is not to overdo it. You need to be constantly going back and reinforcing old ideas and terms.

Rosetta stone throws waay too much in your face too quickly, and then because it did so much, it can't take the time to allow you to go back and revise.

One day, I 'learned' about 25 words and 3 new grammar rules in a few minutes, most not related to eachother in the sense you could put them in a sentence. Then the next 3 days I did not see most of those words come back up again until suddenly I get introduced to more words.

Duolingo has done something similar, but it did it in a better way. When you're exposed to a barrage of new words, either:

A) It's made very clear that you don't need to remember the word right now, and it's just to pad sentences into looking "normal"

B) Exercises involving that word are repeated, again and again, so you are sure to remember it

When duolingo threw me into the deep end, it was often productive. I learned how to read sentences and piece together their meaning via context clues - even if I didn't know every word in the sentence.

Unclear Instructions, Help, and Translations

I'm certain that a baby could use duolingo. It's not too difficult to understand what the app is asking you to do.

Not just that, but duolingo offers a lot in lieu of translations, they incorporate translations in five ways:

Exercises asking you to translate phrases in Spanish into English

Exercises asking you to translate phrases in English into Spanish

After you answered a question in Spanish, your answer will be translated into English

You can tap/click on a word in English to reveal its translation

You can tap/click on a word in Spanish to reveal its translation

The first two are common ways in which duolingo tests your knowledge, or introduces new concepts to you. The middle one is a way of giving you conformation "oh good I said what I meant".

The last two act as hints, to be used when you're struggling or decipher a specific word's meaning.

Rosetta stone, on the other hand, does not offer any translation aid. In fact, there are no translations involved at all in the app.

Not just that, but in the 10 days I've used rosetta stone, I did not see a single English word within lessons at all (of course the app's interfacing and menus use English).

So how do you learn Spanish? Via images.

Now, given that the app's goal is to teach natural language acquisition, it makes sense. Because it prevents the ability for your mind to immediately back-translate new phrases and words.

The disadvantage is that it prevents the ability for your mind to immediately back-translate new phrases and words, a rather crucial step in learning a new language I'd argue.

Oh, and, using images only is severely limited when it comes to teaching you words that are:

Dynamic verbs (e.g. running)

Abstract verbs (e.g. want)

Abstract words in general (e.g. is, this, that)

Prepositions and tense

Adverbs

Abstract nouns or adjectives

Most grammar rules

This is probably the straw that broke the camel's back. Especially because there's no way to confirm that what you think a word means is what it actually means (as there are no translations).

Pricing

Duolingo is free, and has a 2 week free trial of its premium version (I recommend subscribing to premium). This allows you to try the app, and pull out if you don't want to learn the language or want to switch.

Rosetta stone charges you upfront for 3 months of use. No trial, no nothing.

Not to mention that super duolingo is less expensive than basic rosetta stone, on a per-month basis.

Using two apps is just a bad idea

Surprisingly, using two apps is harder than one. Especially when both aren't equally flexible to time.

The problem isn't that they teach you different words at different rates ... I was learning approximately the same amount (outside of rosetta stone affomentionedly blasting me with new words).

The problem was that it becomes a bit overwhelming with the time and brainpower requirements.

It felt like rosetta stone was a time sink, preventing me from using duolingo more often and learning more productively. So I stopped using rosetta stone after the first 10 days.

Still won't get back that money though ...

What Have I learned?

Alright, so now for what I've actually learned.

Grammar

Generally I've learned a few decent grammar rules that are different to english. For example:

Grammatical gender is a thing, and more prevalent

Adjectives come after a noun

Está and es both mean the same thing, "is", but one describes temporary properties and the other describes static qualities

There are several words like "well", "too", "you", "I" that have several translations in Spanish

Verbs change based on what the subject is

Diacritics exist ...

Of course, things are slightly easy because I don't need to learn a different word order. It's still SVO like in English.

Really what throws me off the most is the fact that adjectives come after the word. That and the many different ways you can say "you" or "I". Other than that I've got a lot of grammar under control.

Currently I have not actually learnt tense in Spanish. But I will, actually tomorrow probably.

Other than that, gender is difficult to learn. Mainly because you cannot always use the "ends in a" vs. "ends in o" rule. For example you say el agua instead of la agua.

Words

There are many words in Spanish that are very similar in English, about 50% of them.

Because the amount of words I have learnt are small, I will list them, all! Which will be a great learning exercise for me.

Do not expect me to spell every word correctly - I can't even spell in English correctly without spellcheck.

Common Phrases (or components of phrases) Hola; Adiós; Gracias; De nada; Disculpe; Dónde; Qué; Por favor; Lo siento; Buenos días; Buenas noches; Como estás; Qué tal; Bienvenido; Vamos

Short/Simple Words Es/eres/soy, está/estás/estoy, ese, este, mi, yo, tú, tu, para, de, o, a, y, demasiado, bueno, hoy, un/una, el/la, él/ella, ellos/ellas, en, muy, aquí, sí, no

Verbs (in 3rd person form) Corre, lee, escribe, quiere, paga, compra, bebe, come, necesita, nada, tengo/tiene, habla, vive

Adjectives Azul, rojo, verde, marrón, gris, elegante, bonito, caro, cómoda, barato, bueno, inteligente, grande, cerrado, favorita, diferente

Nouns (Food) Pan, agua, leche, manzana, naranja, queso, huevo, tomate, carne, pescado, jugo, café, sándwich, hamburguesa, ensalada, chocolate

Nouns (People/Pets) Persona, niño/niña, mujer, hombre, hijo/hija, esposo/esposa, hermano/hermana, padre, madre, abuelo/abuela, gato, perro

Nouns (Places/Vehicles) Aeropuerto, hotel, hospital, restaurante, baño, banco, tren, autobús, carro, bicicleta, casa, calle, tienda, supermercado

Nouns (Apparel) Ropa, camisa, camiseta, reloj, cinturón, vestido, falda, chaqueta, abrigo, zapatos, pantalones, sombrero

Nouns (Objects) Vaso, taza, mesa, maleta, regalo, reserva, dinero, boleto, teléfono, pasaporte, cartera, videojuego

Other (Countries/Languages) Español, Inglés, Francia, España, Australia, America, Argentina

That should be about it. Obviously, some words in Spanish are direct translations in English, e.g. Australia, hospital, chocolate.

Pronunciation

I included them because while they are spelt the same, they may still be pronounced slightly differently.

Spanish is slightly easier in terms of pronunciation in the sense that vowels (without diacritics) are always pronounced the same way. This is why diacritics appear - as to tell a speak when to pronounce them differently.

Diacritics are always in the form of the uptick, á é í ó ú, with the only exception of ñ. Which genuinely changes how the n is pronounced.

For example, baño is pronounced "bahnyo" (depending on your own accent the h there may not be needed).

Conclusion

So, I'll be switching to exclusively using duolingo. I do intend on maintaining the streak for as long as possible, as at least it keeps me motivated for the rest of the day.

Outside of that, things are going well! I'm planning on surprising my grandmother with my newfound Spanish skills much earlier, by Christmas. Because I am afraid she might not be around by next year, depending on her health.

My next post will be at ... maybe 60 days? There'll be less information in the next post because there's less stuff to talk about.