#and can't seem to get a single minute alone in my house

[whore-ibly-hot]

Just a quick little thing to tide you all over.

Thinking about...

Bill, he hates fem!reader being a part of the group, but he can't help from bringing it up when he's getting picked on at school. Bringing up he's got a hot piece of ass in the club, so how could they be dorks! There's a chick in HIS club.

"You're not a fucking member, I said that because that jock-douche wouldn't leave me alone. Even if you were, you don't know shit about what we do here." He complains. "I-I mean, honestly, do you even own a single comic, mint condition? Do you sleeve and grade them yourself? Didn't think so. You're a glorified class pet, consider yourself lucky I let you bum around here." He sneers.

His tune quickly changes when he's at the comic book shop, pushing some kids and middle aged men aside to get to a new edition of Spider-man. "Hey, kid, watch it!" One of the neckbeards scoffs, adjusting his glasses and pushing Bill's shoulder. Bill whips around, furious. "You watch it! And KID?! Listen here, you limped dick virgin, I'm younger than you, but at least I've spoken to a girl who isn't my mom in the last ten years. Take this-" He shoves the comic at him. "See if I even care, go beat your meat over the fact you got a comic, ill just go back to MY club, surrounded by MY collection, and sit with MY girl!"

After being removed from the store for yet another freak out, he slowly winds down, face a bit flushed as he considers the implications of 'his girl'.

"Hey, Bill, so... since I'm a member of the group now-"

"You're not-"

"I was hoping I could maybe come over and set up for meetings. You know, over here."

This gives him pause, but the idea of you, just you, in his house, setting up for the meeting, all alone. Not showing up for the other guys, showing up for him. Being... his.

"Fine. But be prepared to do some actual work, gotta earn your place here..." Hes pretty sure he's seen a porno start this way.

Yan!Pete, he doesn't have to prove anything to anyone, he's just gonna relish in the fact that the club isn't a sausage fest anymore. He's suddenly able to tune out Bill's screeching way more, focusing on the way you bend down to pick the figures Bill has knocked on the wall in a rage, the way your pants hug your ass. Digging under a shitty couch for a three dollar Megaman figure has never been sexier.

He'll call you. A lot. Telling you about some freaky new flick he's found, or that he's got tickets to some shitty new band playing downtown. It's best to indulge him, he'll only get clingier if you don't respond, calling the home phone line, which always gets awkward with your folks.

"Hey, how's it going, babe?" He calls over the phone. "Whatcha up to?" You respond saying your just laying on your bed, watching some TV. "Cool, cool. Listen, you want any company in that big ass bed of yours? I got some stuff from Block-Buster." He just lets out a huff as you say you can't, but you're happy to talk for a bit. As you complain about bill, it's best to ignore his his breathing grows heavier, and the unending stream of thoughts from his big mouth seem to get suspiciously quiet. Trust me, you finding out what he's doing on the other end will only turn him on more.

"So, yeah- he's just being a total dick. I mean, I don't want to have to feel like I'm 'earning my place' in a group of friends." You sigh into the phone.

"Yeah- well, that's Bill for you." Pete huffs, speaking up for the first time in several minutes. "He's a dickwad, shit..."

"I don't know. Anyways, what did you wanna talk about?"

"Wanna fuckin' cum..." he mumbles, so lowly you can barely hear, and ask him to repeat.

"What?"

"What?"

Jerry, he's thrilled to have a pretty girl around, makes him feel a little more normal. However, he knows the rest of his group isn't, so while they are wrapped up in wanting you too much or fighting the urge to want you, he's wracked with insecurity you'll leave. He knows that he and the others are a shitty bunch of people, and its only a matter of time till you realize it.

He's as sweet as he can be, learning everything he can about you. What are your hobbies, your interests, what do you do when you aren't bumming around with them? Tell him, he'll get into whatever you're into. Just stay. Please. You make him feel sane when everyone is screeching.

"No, no! I totally like that kinda stuff!" He assures you, ignoring the sounds of Josh trying to explain the significance of his recently acquired magic card. "Yeah, um, I mean, I'm still getting into it, so, if you have any advice or, if you wanna teach me about it, that'd be cool!" He struggles between wanting to learn from you, as thay would be MAJOR for him to spend that much time with you, and wanting to already be perfect at whatever you're doing to impress. Wikihow becomes Jerry's best friend, as he works on trying to master you interest. Into crotchet? He hopes his hand dexterity from drawing will carry over. Baking? Ah, well, he'll try his best; even though he's not much of a cook. DnD? Oh, he's gonna cream his pants and have to rush off to the bathroom.

"So, Jerry, do you want to come over? Maybe I can teach you to get better at it."

"Y-yeah! I'd love to, uh, lemme just get my stuff from my place. Love you, bye!"

"What'd you say?" You ask, turning back from your spot on the sidewalk.

"Uh, Leave you! I'm leaving you, now! To go- to go get my stuff." The blonde stammers, rushing off.

Josh, he's a lot like Jerry in that he's afraid you'll get scared off, but he blames Bill and Pete, never hosnown awkwardness and sexism for why you might leave. He's the normal one, just him and Jerry. It's Pete perversions and Bill freakouts that are upsetting you.

He's far to awkward to try and actually talk to you to keep you around, you're a girl. He doesn't want to come on to strong like Pete, at least that's what he tells himself. In truth, he's both skeptical of your intentions in the group and desperate for those intentions to be good. In lieu of talking to you, he spends money on you under the guise of needing to educate you into what the groups about, or quote 'dorkify the babe' as Pete says.

He gives you figures, memorabilia, tapes of movies you want to see, you name it, he'll find a way to get it to you. It's going to piss off Bill, but Josh will only argue he makes donations to the clubs collective items all the time.

"Its a collectors pack, I picked it up from the store. And the book is a game guide for Jerry's next campaign. I'd recommend reading it so you can be caught up." He coughs, rubbing a free hand over his greasy ponytail.

"Thanks Josh, this is really sweet!" You chirp, happily going through the pack of cards

While he flinches at your haning of the cards, he calms himself at the sound of your sweet words. "Yeah, well- just- if you're gonna be a *real* member of our group, you need to know what we know, and I doubt Bill is gonna help you out. He'd rather gloat about what you don't know, he's always pulls that shit with us." Pausing, he glances at you. "But... you can count on me, for-for anything you don't understand. Pete just wants to get in your pants, and he doesn't know fucking anything anyways. And Jerry... he's fine, but i wouldn't say he's an expert like me in anything but wearing silly fairy costumes." He snarks.

'Please, please, please just talk to me about club stuff, ignore them, they're idiots...'

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

I want to smell like you.

Pairing: Father in law!Joel Miller x f!reader Words count: 949, all filthy again because why not. Rating: +18, MDNI, NSFW Summary: Joel hears you during the night and can’t help himself Tags/warnings: Joel POV, implied but unspecified age gap, cheating, pathetic yearning old man Joel (lol, he’s desperate for you, bb), Joel thoughts marked in italics, male masturbation, Joel has a son in this one, swearing, mention of alcohol consumption, as usual reader has barely no description, she doesn’t blush, she has hair but it’s not described, she has female genitalia. A/N: sequel for Not the real deal, I think it can be read as a standalone but if you haven’t read the first one yet, it’s only 382 more filthy words 😇 I'm slowly trying to return functioning like a normal human, I’m still hanging in there, I’m happy that I was able to write at least this one. No beta, no proofreading, English is not my first language and I’m sorry for any mistake. Thanks to @joelmillerisapunk for her constant support, I don’t know where I would be without you, bb. Love you so much ♥️ Hope you’ll like it and thanks for giving so much love to the first one, I never had that amount of notes before and I’m truly grateful and overwhelmed ♥️

Masterlist | Joel Masterlist

These walls are so thin.

They don't make houses like they used to.

Joel turns over on the lumpy mattress.

Frustrated, deprived of sleep, he lies on his back with his eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

“It'll be over, it'll be over soon.” He groans.

Ten minutes have passed, they seemed like an eternity.

You are on the other side of the wall and he can hear you clearly.

You have no business being so loud, fucking hell.

He could swear he can pick out every single sound.

The sucking, the slapping, the sliding, the clinging.

The wood of the headboard, your sweet voice broken by sobs.

He could describe every single thing that is happening in that room without seeing it.

He closes his eyes and you’re before him.

Naked, disheveled, your delicious breasts bouncing in the air, your soft thighs wide open, your expression rapt, your mouth agape showing a row of delicate white teeth that sparkle in the dark.

Your eyebrows are raised, your forehead is beaded with sweat, your tongue darts between your lips, your eyes are clouded with desire.

It's too much to bear.

And when you start making that unmistakable sound that is yours and only yours when you’re totally lost in your pleasure, when he feels your breathing quicken and become heavy, he knows he won't be able to resist.

His hands get rid of his boxers mechanically, throwing them on the floor.

He shouldn’t do that but he can’t stop, he’s not in control of his own movements anymore.

Not when your honeyed voice fills his ears with moans and little whimpers and his cock is impossibly hard.

Not when he should be the one fucking you right now instead of being relegated to the guest room.

At least he took after me in terms of stamina.

Fuck.

This is her pussy.

Her juicy little pussy slapping against his cock, swallowing him whole.

He spits on his palm and grab his shaft, fisting it desperately into his hand, muttering angrily, wrapped in the sheets, teeth gritted, blood rushing to his brain, adrenaline blurring his vision, big fat cock covered in his precum throbbing between his fingers as he dream to be buried deep inside of you, your cream dripping all over him.

He tried to push that feeling away, he tried really hard for a very long time.

That heat expanding in his chest whenever he sees you with him has a name that he desperately tries to not address: Jealousy.

It’s so damn stupid, he himself led you to the altar and handed you over to him.

He should have more consideration for his son. But he can't stop thinking that you should be his and his alone.

He feels pathetic, beyond redemption, as he strokes his cock like a horny teenager.

Every molecule of you is like a drug, a siren song that wrecks his reason.

Cum is spilling on his hand, staining the sheets, dripping on his legs, he’s making a fool of himself, wishing he could paint your tits, wishing he could fingerfuck his sticky mess into your warm cunt, wishing you could be on his side of the wall on your knees, tongue out waiting for every drop.

He covers his mouth with his hand trying to stifle your name that rises to his lips. He bites into his own flesh, he moans and groans and curses himself.

His orgasm is strong but not nearly as devastating as if you were there.

Nothing compares.

The noise has stopped.

He breathes a sigh of relief, reaching for a tissue on the nightstand. The box is empty.

He reluctantly gets up and slips silently out the door.

His now soft cock dangles between his legs, the cold air contrasting with the heat of his sweaty chest makes him shiver as he tries to reach the bathroom.

As he places his hand on the handle he hears the door of your room open.

Fuck.

He hasn’t even put his boxers back on, his mind really isn’t reasoning anymore.

What will I do if it’s him?

He is in his son's house.

He insisted he spend the night there because he had one glass too many at dinner.

"It's not safe for you to drive like that, stay," he had told him.

And now he’s here, naked in the hallway.

Fuck.

It’s you, thank goodness.

A vision in lacy lingerie.

He feels his heart beating in his throat.

“Hey.” you whisper, moving closer to him and hugging him from behind. You bury your face between his shoulder blades, your tits pressed against his broad back, leaving small kisses on his skin, licking away a streak of his sweat.

“Hey.” he replies coldly, his voice hoarse.

“I heard you,” he grumbles softly.

“I know,” you purr, “I wanted you to hear me.”

You’re cruel when you want to be, why do this to me?

“You smell like him.” He groans.

“Yeah, but I’ve been thinking about you all the damn time.”

Joel feels a surge of pride fill his body, his cock reacting to your words.

“Is he sleeping?”

“Yes,” you murmur against his skin and then add, “Joel, I can’t wait any longer.”

“What do you want, baby?” he smirks in the dark hallway, one hand on the bathroom doorknob, the other gripping the wrist of your arm around his waist.

“I want to smell like you.”

tag list: @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @baronessvonglitter @harriedandharassed @probablyreadinsmut @almostempty @thundermartini @cas-readsandwrites @lemon-nomel

archive tag: @pedrostories

let me know if you want to be added or removed, I'll do it right away! Thanks for reading ❤️

[wn11ow]

Unstable UNI spoilers/rant

I lied, I do have something to say about the video. ALOT to say, actually.

This video, is very VERY different from the usual style of UU videos. Upbeat Kevin Macleod music that was used 7 years ago? Not to mention the 100 day video style? The fourth wall breaking narrating by Spoke? The day counter at the top corner? Fever dream is what pops up in my head.

Fever dream, Dissociative episode, Coping mechanism.

Not to mention, Spoke has diamond armor and his ender chest is... well, uh not the best.

The exact definition of dissociation is a mental process where the person feels a disconnect from their memories, thoughts, sense of identity and reality as a whole.

Plays into what Spoke felt like this episode. "When I was on the Unstable smp-" That has never been an opening in a single UU episode ever, Spokes way of narration makes it seem like a normal video-- But it doesn't make sense, why is he aware of us? why is he narrating in the first place?

The hype, joyful music is a complete disconnect from the usual serious music UU has. Not to mention the narrating-- The narration is such a whiplash, its the disconnect of his thoughts. Its completely distracting the viewer from noticing the big ahh elephant in the room.

Point two, he's isolated. Where's Mapicc? where's Minute? Where did they go and why is Spoke alone? Spoke has never fared well in isolation, the Mafia infiltration episode PROVED that-- He completely loses himself in that, he needs social interaction to ground himself to reality. Without that? he loses it.

He barely talks in the episode(to me, atleast), its all narration to US, the viewer. He doesn't speak to himself or anyone else at all, is it a coping mechanism? But why is he coping?

Is Mapicc dead?

No. Can't be. Why would it be a off-screen death in the first place, and its just downright stupid to kill him off. But It makes sense, This episode shows the side-effects Spoke is faced with after Mapiccs death, and thing is- Dissociation is a symptom you face when grieving.

And Spoke seems like he's grieving. Completely disconnected from reality, not mentioning Mapicc or anyone else, absorbed in distracting us, the viewer and himself from that elephant in the room.

Guess what, Dissociation can cause memory loss.

Its a unique way to showcase a death, to show the grief first and then the big reveal later. If he is, then it just plays into my theory that UU or the director is actively isolating the MC's.

Okay, enough of that. I have another question.

Why is Spoke so focused on Material Wealth? Why does Spoke wanna be rich so bad? Why is that the focus instead of the isolation? Spoke decided to stay at Point Nemo SO THAT he can steal stuff and become rich. What happened to his netherite armor? All the shit in the previous episode?

Why is it, that the fact that Ash has sold the dragon egg ignites such an erratic reaction out of him?

The End Of The Minecraft Mafia - 3:55:12

"The pursuit of existence, just by playing on the server everything we do is to get more power in some shape or form. Building a redstone build, making a Contraption, building a house, even farming- everything in Minecraft is about collection and whole concept of an inventory is having things So the more you play on the server spoke you're going to want to collect more and more you're going to want more power you're going to try and grow as much as possible. All of you but you especially because you think you are following the right thing and that's the most dangerous kind of person.

You're going to end up just like me spoke."

I mean. Ash was right. Spoke does want more, Spoke does want to collect more items and become rich, Spoke does want material wealth and in return, power. Spoke is a cause of destruction, embodiment of havoc, and he's going to take down reddoons to get what he wants. Thats what males spoke dangerous.

And maybe that entire 9 minute speech in the last episode was foreshadowing.

Okay this is getting too long-- One last thing! The music on day 98 DRASTICALLY changes and reverts back to serious UU music. Why? Because Spoke has finally now had social interaction, it notably changed when he's talking to Ash and reveals himself.

The dragon egg is mentioned, and Ash said he sold and whaddya know? the music reverts back to the styupid 2016 music. The music very heavily contributes to knowing Spokes mental state, the entire time that stupid 2016 music is playing, he's gone, back in a fever dream like state and the moment he talks with ash he SNAPS out of it.

Material wealth and a want of Spokes is mentioned? Boom, back to stupid 2016 music. He FLIPS out, knowing the egg is in Reds hands, it seems awfully like dissociative rage, i wont lie.

Okay thats it this has gotten too long im not checking for spelling mistakes aaaaaaaaaaaa

[jeongteen]

THE PERFECT ONE FOR YOU IS ME

Notes : Inspired by this song after seeing someone under the # requesting for someone to write about it <3 I really hope y'all will like it, I'm so happy to finally write about Hyun-ju, I love her sooo much, she's my comfort character ���� Remember my requests are open, check my pinned to know which characters I write for <3 English is not my first language so my apologies for any mistake <3

Summary : Hyun-ju can't stand seeing you wasting your time and energy into someone who doesn't deserve you in the slightest, she wishes you could see that the perfect one for you is her.

CW : use of y/n, toxic relationship (not with hyunju), angst, comfort, use of the word "princess" to describe reader (it's the only gendered term used to describe the reader and it's only used twice !)

Words count : 2k

Hyun-ju and you have been best friends for years now. You met in college when you had to team up with someone for a project and you two ended up alone, looking at each other in a "guess we have to do this together" kind of way. Your energies matched really well and you ended up spending all your time with her.

It's safe to say Hyun-ju has been questioning herself for a while now, the way she feels about you seems to have changed recently. And by recently, we could actually say "those last few years". She's feeling butterflies in her stomach when you laugh or when your hands brush against one other. She's blushing when you compliment her or when you help her with makeup, having your face really close to hers. Most importantly, her heart literally drops every time you mention a new partner, or even just a date. It's now hard to deny that her feelings for you grew.

Lately, you're being more distant with her and her heart simply aches. It started a few months ago, when you started dating them.

Hyun-ju already had several occasions to meet your partner and the least to say is that she despises them. It's not even the fact they're taking you away from her or making anything more than friendship possible between the two of you, it's their behavior. You've seen each other in different ways, at the restaurant with friends, at the karaoke, at one of your friends' house to hang out and more. And there wasn't a single time where they didn't give Hyun-ju the ick. From the way they speak to you to the way they constantly dismiss your feelings, your best friend just couldn't stand it.

Of course, the fact they now try to keep you away from all of your closest friends is not helping her to like them in the slightest. She only hears about you when you let yourself go and need to rant about how exhausted this relationship gets you.

Hyun-ju hears her phone ringing and smiles seeing your name on the screen, a smile that will quickly fade away.

— Hyun-ju..? You say between two sobs.

— y/n ? What's going on ? Why are you crying ?

— Hyun-ju I'm so tired...

Of course you didn't need to say more for Hyun-ju to understand what happened and she frowns, her heart aching at the way your voice keeps breaking between each word.

— Are they still here ? Do you want me to come over so I can help you relax ?

— They told me they didn't want to see me for now, I guess they won't come back for a while... I'd love to see you now Hyun-ju, if it doesn't bother you.

Hyun-ju lets out a slight chuckle hearing this last sentence. "If it doesn't bother you", actually she'd drop the whole world to come wrapping you in her arms.

— Give me a few minutes and I'll be there, it's gonna be fine, love you.

In the spawn of a few minutes, Hyun-ju arrives at your door, knocking gently not to startle you. You open the door and let yourself go in her arms. You're holding so hard onto her, it looks like you want to merge with her. You keep crying against her shoulder, unable to form a single word. But Hyun-ju understands, she always understands. She's the sweetest soul you've ever met, her empathy being one of her biggest qualities.

Her chin is resting on your head, one of her hands playing with your hair slowly and gently and her other hand tracing circles on your back in the softest way.

— Shh, it'll be fine, don't worry. She says that so delicately, she sounds so sincere, for a few seconds you feel like you can trust her words.

You finally relax in her arms, the sobs stop and Hyun-ju pulls away gently to look at you. She cups your face and uses her thumbs to wipe away the tears stains on your cheeks.

— Feeling better?

— Kind of... Thank you Hyun-ju. You manage to address her the tiniest smile, which warms her heart considering the state you were in a few minutes ago.

She takes your hands in hers and looks at you with a serious look on her face, you know what she's about to say, you don't really want to hear it but you know deep down she just wants what's best for you.

— y/n... This has to stop. How many more times will I have to find you in that state ? You're an adult, you can make your own decisions, I know it, I'm not your mom, I know it too. But what kind of friend would I be if I'd just approve of all this?

You nod briefly.

— I'll be fine Hyun-ju, it's okay, I'll be strong and it'll be fine, right? The tone of your voice is so desperate

— Whatever you say... She sighs. Just know I'm there, okay?

You nod once more and she gives you one last embrace before pulling away. Her heart aches so much seeing the state you're in and she wishes she could make you open your eyes about your situation. She wishes she was allowed to take you away from all of this to protect you forever, but she can't cause you won't let her.

— You deserve better, you know?

You don't answer her. You know. Deep down you know she's right. You know you never did anything that justify treating you like that. And maybe, just maybe, what happened today actually made you understand you should do something about it.

— You need some rest, you should sleep now, I'll go back home, do not hesitate to call if you need anything, okay? Her tone is so gentle, you always loved that about her, the way she makes everything sound so easy, the way she cares, the way she's the softest when it comes to you.

That night, Hyun-ju lays in her bed, looking at her ceiling and thinking about you. It hurts her so bad.

— Why can't you see that the perfect one for you is me... She mumbles to herself.

She knows she can treat you like the princess you are. She wants to be able to take you in her arms at night to help you fall asleep. She wants to give you the sweetest kiss ever when you doubt yourself before pampering you with compliments and reassurance. She wants to take you on dates, she wants to be able to go see her friends with you and show her how much of a perfect sweetheart you are. She wants you. More than anything, she wants you.

One week later, you actually do it. You finally leave your partner. As expected, it doesn't go so well. There was a lot of screaming, yelling, bad words etc. You are sobbing hard, yet, it feels like a heavy weight has been lifted from your shoulders. Of course you couldn't stay in the apartment you shared with your partner, so you head where you know you're always welcome.

The door opens a few seconds after you knock and you throw yourself in Hyun-ju's arms. She holds you, knowing what probably happened considering the suitcase that's right behind you. As heavy as her heart feels when she hears the sobs coming from you, she can't help feeling relieved, "finally" she thought.

— It's over Hyun-ju, it's over.

She rests her chin on your head, caressing your hair with one hand and your back with the other. She holds you close. She wants you to feel protected in her arms, she wants you to understand there's nothing to fear when she's around.

A few minutes later, after you manage to calm down a little, the two of you end up on her couch, talking about the whole situation.

— I'm so proud of you, you know. I know it took some courage to do that. But that was the right thing, I promise. You deserve someone who will treat you as you deserve. Hyun-ju made her own chest ache with those words. She wanted to scream that she can treat you like a princess, that she will give you everything you want and need.

— Do you think that will happen..?

— Why wouldn't it? She grabs your hands in hers delicately. Have you ever considered your worth? You're the sweetest person I know. You care for others like no one else. I think you don't consider yourself the way you should, that's why you let the wrong people love you. But I promise you there are so many good people out there that would give you the world. "Fuck it" she thinks. I would. I would give everything I have to make you smile. I want you to feel like the most precious human being that ever walked on this planet, because to me you literally are. Seeing you with the most pathetic person ever for all this time drove me insane. And whatever happens in the future, I'll be there, making sure this never happens again.

You look at her, slightly confused. Did she really confess to you, right now?

And suddenly it all makes sense. The way she looks at you when you see her. The way the biggest smile appears on her face as soon as you laugh. The way she would always squeeze your shoulder with a faint smile when your partner would make such a nasty comment while she was around. The way her eyes always fill with stars when your gazes meet.

And in all honesty, all that attention, all this care, you couldn't say it didn't do something to you. You couldn't ignore how whenever anything happens, the first person you want to share about it with is Hyun-ju, not even your partner. You can't deny how hot your cheeks get when she shows you that huge smile of hers when she feels truly happy. And you wonder for a second "do I have feelings for her that I've been hiding because I was already with someone?".

— Please say something... She says, not letting go of your hands. Her eyes are glowy, she's starting to regret confessing to you when she only sees you looking at her in confusion.

— Hyun-ju... I... Do you really mean that? Well, you know she does, but the truth is you don't even know what to say.

She smiles, tears start filling her beautiful eyes.

— I've never been more sincere in my entire life. I love you, I truly do and if it's too early right now, after breaking up, I can wait for you for as long as needed. And if the feelings aren't mutual, it's fine too, as long as I can still have you by my side, anything you choose is fine to me because I love you. And loving you means I want what's best for you, whatever it is and as long as it doesn't hurt you. The look she gives you right now, you could melt. You can see all the love in the world in her eyes right now, she's looking at you like you're the most precious treasure ever, and you probably are to her.

You don't know if it's the adrenaline, but you cup her cheeks in your hands, slightly wiping away the few tears that managed to escape her eyes when she just talked.

— Can I kiss you? You can't believe you just said that.

She gives you that one smile, the one that always gets you.

She closes the gap between you, locking your lips together in the most gentle way. You can feel all the love she puts into it, never in your whole relationship you've felt this much love and care towards you.

The kiss is reassuring, comforting and seems to free you from every single problem for a few seconds.

You finally pull away, looking right into her eyes.

— You know, I don't want you to think I'm doing this to fill a sort of post breakup void. I truly wanted to kiss you, because God I love you Hyun-ju, and I wish I had the courage to tell you earlier, to leave them earlier.

— Better late than never, right? She says that with a slight chuckle, pulling you into another kiss.

And just like that, you realized, the perfect one for you is her.

[we-stan-the-stans-27]

Sleeping Beauty AU?

@sixerstanley Here had this HUGE big brain idea and I immediately sprung into action to write a little something about it.

Basically, they read a merlin fic where a spell made it seem like Merlin was dead, but he was basically asleep and aware of everything going on. Arthur was not having a good time. (trauma and pain ensues) I'm going to replicate it, based on the idea alone.

(Also, I had no idea this would turn into an almost 4k oneshot, oops! Color me inspired, I guess! I can do this, but not my actual fan fiction. LMAO!)

Suffer with me. (JK, enjoy. XD )

For the first time in weeks, Ford had allowed himself a full night's rest downstairs. Why not reward himself, just this once? The rift is sealed, the universe is safe, and things are slowly getting back to normal. Or as normal as they get in the pathetic excuse for what used to be his home.

Ford still has a hard time calling it what it is, 'The Mystery Shack' is a little on the nose, isn't it? The exhibits are hardly anything close to a mystery. They're botched taxidermy projects.

Insults. That's what they are.

A slap in the face to his life's work.

Whatever, that's not his problem right now. Coffee is the first order of business.

It's early and no one else is awake, but the coffee pot is still hot with a fresh pot. One cup appears to be missing. Stanley must be awake then.

Ford takes his time pouring the life-bringing liquid into his favorite cup (it is amazing Stanley didn't break it or lose it after all these years) and adding in ample sugar, and a dash of cream for color.

He adds a single ice cube to cool it faster, listening to the sounds of the house. It's silent, too quiet.

Ford can't help that even in a peaceful environment it puts him on edge.

The TV is off and a walk through the living room reveals Stanley isn't sitting on the couch. The first-floor bathroom light is off, door is slightly ajar, but empty.

That's weird.

He really shouldn't be looking for his brother anyway since the only good that will do is start another fight. It's too early for that.

Ford settles back in the kitchen, hovering near the window and sipping his cup watching the clock on the wall tic on. Minutes pass.

The silence is no longer just putting him on edge, it's sounding alarms.

Why? There is nothing dangerous here in the house, they are perfectly safe here now that Bill has been dealt with.

What then?

To put his own stupid mind to rest he leaves the empty cup in the sink and goes upstairs to the attic, checking on Dipper and Mabel.

They are both still fast asleep in their beds. Dipper, drooling on his pillow with half the blanket on the floor. Mabel, hair stuck up in all directions, clutching one of her many stuffed animals like it might try to escape.

Waddles is here too, curled up on its makeshift bed on the floor.

He stays just long enough to ensure they are all breathing, and sleeping soundly, before noiselessly going back downstairs.

The second floor is as empty as the first, including Stanley's poor excuse for a room. It is a mess of half-packed boxes, several trash bags, and the always-unmade bed.

Soon enough the house will be normal again.

Stanley will be gone, the kids will go home- (Perhaps they'll visit again next summer? It's a shame Dipper can't stay) and the Mystery Shack business will be over forever.

This once secluded corner of the valley will be that way again, his haven away from prying eyes. And tourists.

With the interior of the house cleared that only leaves the yard and porch.

Ford makes his way out onto the one Stanley finds the most use out of and the worry he hadn't realized to be carrying vanishes. There he is, sitting back dead asleep on the disgusting couch. How old is that thing? It appears to be growing several kinds of mold along the bottom because of the constant rain this region gets.

One hand is barely holding onto Stan's coffee cup, the arm of the couch holding it up while its owner sleeps.

"Seriously, Stanley? Being old doesn't give you an excuse to sleep anywhere, much less flash the local wildlife in little more than boxers." It's a good dig, in his opinion, and he speaks loud enough to rouse Stanley despite how hard of hearing he has become over the years.

Except no quick response comes.

Stanley doesn't so much as twitch in his spot on the couch.

The fear comes back-

Oh, don't be ridiculous!

"Very funny, Stanley." He lets the door close, quietly, before moving to stand in front of his brother, hands on either hip.

He looks, really looks, at Stan.

And sees nothing good.

The first notable, and most concerning finding, is that his brother isn't breathing. He waits, watching, assuming this to be a breath hold.

A joke.

But that isn't the only concerning evidence. Stanley's eyes are also halfway open, looking over the yard. Empty.

Not funny anymore, very much NOT funny!

Ford does not panic, not yet. He moves and picks up the cup, plucking it out of his brother's hand- It lacks any strength, like taking a toy from a child.

"Stanley? Wake up. Very good joke, you got me. Stop it now." He kneels on the couch, next to him, after setting the cup aside on the porch by their feet.

For the second time since coming home, Ford touches Stanley. This time with a kinder hold, reaching up to press two fingers along the pulse point between the jaw and collar bone, off to the side of the Adam's apple.

Nothing.

'One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten-'

He could count on one hand the number of times true panic has overtaken him in his lifetime. It isn't a luxury one can often afford when coming face to face with death constantly in the multiverse-

But what harm can come of it when someone is already dead?

His hand stays right where it is, tucked into the still-warm skin-

"No, this isn't funny-" But Ford's voice shakes and he snatches the hand away quickly. If he can't feel the lack of pulse, it's not there. Simple.

How didn't he notice? When did this happen?

What happened?

No- Ford turns, looking around the peaceful yard. Dew covers the grass, the sun peaked up about half an hour ago basking the clearing in pink and yellow hues.

There isn't any blood.

Death is messy. He has seen it countless times, but it is never, ever, peaceful. Knives, guns, cracking bones, broken bodies...

Looking back at Stanley none of that is present. The skin is still pink, and warm, eyes open but- Dead.

No. That can't be. It just can't.

Stanley looks almost peaceful, asleep. His coffee, barely a sip or two taken from the looks of it. "No."

Panic takes many different forms. Initially, instinctively, Ford looked for the cause. It had to be someone, something, who did this. Who took his brother?

But there is nothing, no one, in sight. No blood.

"Stanley, who-" His feet stop, body stalling, in the middle of turning back from the yard to look at the corpse...

He had been about to ask, to question who did this. But a dead body can't answer. A dead body, a corpse.

There is a distinction between a vessel and a person, or so Ford had always thought.

Everyone dies and until then you live inside and pilot your body. Someday, it becomes a corpse and you leave it behind.

That is such a cold and callous way to look at it, in retrospect. Because this, is Stanley. He's just- Gone.

With quick hands, Ford begins looking, almost in a frenzy, for the cause.

No blunt force trauma to the back of the head. No perforations to the abdomen, arms, nothing. There is nothing.

But that's not possible, people don't just-

Except they do. Sometimes-

No. NO! Not them, not him! Stanley Pines wouldn't just die, not without a fight!

Death doesn't play favorites, anyone can go, anytime-

"Shut up! No, he wouldn't! He wouldn't leave me!" It comes out in a shout and shakes him.

It wasn't supposed to end like this.

He never allowed himself to think very far into the future, how could he? Everything was always changing and it was better to live in the now anyway. So long as you were safe now, other things could be handled later-

Except later doesn't always wait for you to be ready. Time has its own plans and you have to work around it or something-

Stanley wasn't supposed to die. Isn't! he can't be-

Except-

There are no obvious injuries, but then again there don't have to be. They may not be old, but they're old enough. Brain aneurysms take hold suddenly, killing the affected almost instantly.

Leaving barely enough time to set down a cup of coffee-

Or a heart attack?

No, Stanley would have come inside, asked for help-

Wouldn't he?

"You idiot!" It comes out in a hiss from where Ford has shifted. He's kneeling right next to Stanley, hand on either shoulder, looking at his half-open but- Dead. Dead eyes. Empty. Gone.

Soulless.

Ford isn't sure who he's talking to. Himself? or Stanley? Both?

"I would have helped you, we could have called someone, I-" He has to pull away, sinking down into the empty space of the couch to hide the tears springing up without permission.

This can't be happening. Things weren't supposed to end like this-

Oh yeah, how was it supposed to go then?

With you, kicking him out next week? Leaving him homeless, again, just like Pa?

"Stop it! I don't know, not like this!" Stanley was always the stronger between them, persevering through everything no matter what happened.

Is this my fault?

What a stupid question.

It forces him to sit up again, one hand covering his face while half peering out at Stanley.

Of course it is. What did you expect? That he would take his life being uprooted lying down?

Did he do this on purpose?

In the rush to pick up the cup of coffee Ford almost knocks it over but finds he can't hold it without spilling some of it over the sides, down onto the porch, anyway. He is left with no choice but to set it back down to avoid wasting the sample.

Maybe.

Ford takes both a physical and mental step back, leaning against one of the columns holding up the roof over the porch, to look around.

Breathing is getting a little more difficult, coming in tight short inhales and smaller and smaller exhales.

What better way to get back at me? Thirty years of a life spent learning math, science, and engineering skills well beyond any normal human's comprehension, for what?

To get a brother back who first chance he got told him to pack it up and get out?

"What kind of brother am I?"

The kind who would rather be right than-

Then apologize. Forgive. Make up. Let go.

And now, it's too late. The train left the station, Stanley is gone, and its all my fault.

"He died thinking I hated him." That realization is what breaks the decade-old dam, tears finally escaping. Ford closes the distance, sitting on the stupid couch and pulling Stanley over into a hug, even if he's not here to feel it.

The lack of strong, still buff, arms encircling him, returning the sentiment only makes him cry harder into the thin and crappy tank top Stanley must have worn to bed.

"I'm sorry." He chokes out between sobs, "I thought I'd have more time, you'd have more time. I didn't think- How could I?" Nothing he's saying is making much sense.

The ramblings of a heartbroken lunatic.

As if we really deserve to be upset, like you'd of cared if it wasn't life or death-

Maybe his own thoughts are right. If Stanley had been alive, sitting here, having his morning coffee they would have traded morning insults before going their separate ways.

But that's not the reality they live in. This one is much worse, much darker.

I spent so much time running away, trying to break apart, and be unique. No longer part of a broken pair, or what I saw as one, I-

"I never expected to miss it when the other half was gone." He is still shaking, refusing to let go, with thoughts still scrambled in a million different directions.

CPR wouldn't do any good now, although it's a nice thought. If Stanley came out here directly after preparing his coffee then that was almost twenty minutes ago, give or take-

Oh god. What about the kids?

Without letting go Ford checks the time on his watch, wincing. A few hours at most, but he'll have to call the coroner-

What does he do?

For the first time, possibly ever, Ford feels lost.

Not only because his twin is currently dead, which is already world-ending, but everything that comes with it.

Who does he say the corpse belongs to? Stanley Pines has been dead for decades-

Is that why he did this? So that Ford could slot right back into his old life, fixing the broken and shattered history? No. This had to be an accident-

Only the testing of the coffee will confirm it or not.

Ford has never had to stick around and deal with a dead body before. Moving on was easier, and necessary. He can't remember attending a funeral, other than their great aunts when they were barely seven.

That's not the same. He'll have to make arrangements, put together pictures, and give a speech-

About a life he knows nothing about.

"God, I'm sorry Stanley. I'm so sorry." It feels safe to let his voice break here. No one is around to see how completely destroyed he feels. "All you ever did was love me, and I pushed you away. I crushed it, refused, and now..."

"Now you're gone. I can't even remember the last time I told you that I love you, but I do. So much, more than I could ever handle." Ford can't let go, but he does shift back to look at his brother's face, holding his limp body with one hand and clearing his own tears with the other.

"For what it's worth, I'm glad I'm here. Thank you, for bringing me back." He has to close his eyes, fresh tear tracks spilling across both cheeks, "Even if only so I could say goodbye. I'm glad I got that, at least. If only you were here-"

With a broken voice, Ford can't stand looking at Stan like this anymore. He reaches up, closing both eyes with feather-light fingers, before leaning close to press them forehead to forehead. Just like when they were young. Before everything.

It's odd. How fast do corpses cool? Not that Ford is going to complain. It lets him pretend, just for a few more moments, that Stanley isn't gone. That they could have this again.

Too little, too late.

"I love you, Stanley." It comes out broken and cruel, like the universe is mocking him. What was the point in protecting them from Bill if death came knocking anyway?

For the first time since coming home, Ford understands.

Finally, he can see why Stanley wasted so much of his life trying to bring him back. Because he loves so much, so big. To his own detriment.

He would do anything, even destroy the world, to have Ford by his side again.

"I'm so sorry, you deserved so much better." How different could things of been?

What would Stanley of done instead? Gotten married? Had kids?

A better family, that's for sure.

Ford knows he can't stay here forever. He needs to let go, head inside, and make some phone calls. To tell Soos to close the shack for the day, get an ambulance to bring Stanley to the morgue.

He needs to prepare for when the kids wake up and figure out what to tell them.

But first, he indulges himself a little bit more by leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Stanley's lips. It smells of coffee, cigars, and denture cream, but Ford can't detect any sort of drug or chemical from close proximity alone. It's nice.

Not what you'd expect from a corpse, but it's enough.

A goodbye, a real one in a weird broken way. Just their luck.

The absolute last thing Ford expects, upon starting to pull away, is to feel the body still pressed very tight to his own take in a very deep breath followed by Stanley's discarded hands coming up to grab at him.

"Stanley!" His voice is still broken, mixed with anger and joy in a typhoon of confusion.

And Stanley? He has the nerve to laugh!

"Don't think you're walking away from that so easily!" No longer locked inside his own body without the ability to do anything it's a relief to be able to breathe. But even better, he can pull Ford over on top of his lap, locking one leg in place against the side of the couch.

"Excuse me! I thought you were dead! What the fuck, Stanley! You can't just go around pretending to be dead to mess with people! What if the kids had found you, or Soos, or Wendy?! You would have scared them half to death, you scared me half to death!"

Truly, it's a complicated story. One Stan is pretty sure Ford doesn't want to hear right now when his mind is running a mile a minute.

He has other things that need to be said instead of explaining whoever that weird wizard was who came out of the forest.

Forcibly Stanley grabs Ford's face, bringing him down so they are face to face again, leaving no room for argument in their close proximity. "Shut up, will you?"

Being locked in was sort of a blessing because participating in the conversation is so much harder than he thought it would be moments ago. He steals his nerves anyway, "I love you too, I'm not dead, and I'm pretty sure forty years should have made you a better kisser than that. Otherwise, I've got my work cut out for me. Try again."

By now Ford's face is bright red both out of anger at being tricked and embarrassment at their current position. But Stanley's hands are no longer weak, holding him tightly in place. Not that he seriously wants to argue anyway.

Stan waits, but the longer Ford stares, the more unsure he becomes. Maybe he misunderstood? Or maybe Ford just has a thing for corpses and now that he isn't one, the interest is gone.

Fair enough, Stan knows he isn't much to look at. Age wasn't as kind to him as it was to Ford. All lean muscles, few wrinkles, and barely greying hair. It's stupid, really.

It would be hypocritical to go right back to being mad, wouldn't it?

Just because Stanley isn't dead now, doesn't mean he won't be next time. Or the time after that.

Anything could happen.

Ford knows he should pull away. They should talk about what the hell just happened. He should move off his brother's damn lap!

Or, he could give in to the very thing he's spent two-thirds of their lives running from. The details and tough conversation can be hashed out later, right?

It's the hold on his jaw loosening that yanks Ford out of his spinning thoughts back to the present. Stanley is pulling away, looking down-

How long was he lost in thought? It couldn't have been more than twenty seconds. Did he change his mind? No, then why does he look so-

Well. Stanley looks the same as he always does.

Oh. Briefly, for a few seconds, Stanley was being brave. He opened up and showed his hand. Let himself be vulnerable.

Idiot!

His hands had never fully left Stan's shoulders, but he tightens their grip now, shifting one up to cup along the underside of his jaw. He doesn't feel the need to say anything, because neither of them has ever really been good with words.

He leans down, surprising them both, with a much more insistent kiss.

A hello. And maybe? A new beginning.

[nobodysavemysoulitsperfectlyfine]

Incorrect Percy Jackson Quotes as situations I've been getting me and my friends into again except they make even less sense than the last time. Because it's been a few months. And things happen.

These are only funny in a situational context so imagine if you will.

Travis Stoll: (Pulling off an elaborate prank to slowly steal every single fucking orange off of someone's plate before they notice, and procede to make a game of keep away)

I'm still upset about that.

Idk probably Luke: "Do you think he's aware of being the posterboy for eugenics?"

Will Solace: (Will not stop talking about Hannibal oh my god how does everything connect to Hannibal)

Rachel Elizabeth Dare: (Sending a billion pictures of the same random ass man nonstop)

Ethan Nakumara: "I can hear my eyeballs crunching"

Piper McLean: "Legally too unqualified to have a sugar daddy. Or mommy."

Annabeth Chase: "It's not stalking if they keep everything so public!"

Leo Valdez: (Explaining complex patterns of human thought and how they have a written plan to decipher people's behavior) "Just like Trigonometry."

Frank Zhang: (Holding a clown statue very delicately to his chest)

Percy Jackson: (With full confidence, hands on his hips) "Who the hell is eating pill dill chickle?"

Lester Papadopoulos: "Wait, can someone make that rhyme?.. I'm Dr. Seuss-us.. It's never Lupus.. AHA."

Hermes: "Oliver Twist never FUCKING scammed a person in his life. Yes, there was petty theft. So what?"

Hazel Levesque: (Eating fruit right down to the core. Can't tell me she doesn't do this from time to time.)

Fucking Thor I guess: (Being told about Werewolf Transgenderism Wednesday and thinking of Loki + Alex) "I would like to nominate that one werewolf mask as our hewere/shewere/theywere of honor."

Magnus Chase: "I begrudgingly hope you stay safe and get better."

Hearth: (blankly making siccsor motions with his hands everytime a specific person speaks)

Clovis: (Responding to texts from well over two months ago with just "what")

Sam Samirah Al Abbas: (In the most saddening fucking voice ever) "Oh.. Ham."

Mallory Keen: (Viciously stabbing at a tissue box in front of like five people for a good minute straight)

RARA: (keeping fucking spears at her bedside like a teddy bear)

Octavian: (Keeping a cheese knife under his pillow, weirdly enough, only for snacking on cheddar. Italian ass.)

Am I crazy or are some of the these the same asset time. It was with get for not proof reading at a.

Paolo: "And I guess that's just what BBC does to ya." (Talking about the British baking channel)

Loki: (Walking around someone else's house in the dead of night, flicking their tongue in complete silence like a fucking skinwalker)

Alex Fierro: (Accidentally scaring boys away by talking about a sharp metal chain belt they keep at all times to hit people with)

Jason Grace: (Wandering alone into the woods for a terrifying amount of time, wondering why people seem so scared when he finally thinks to return)

Connor Stoll: (Trying to teach a young child to swindle her little brother out of his Halloween candy and being both glad and disappointed that she won't)

Dakota: (Packing a stupid amount of dollar store, plastic, tacky ass neon cups to bring to a sleepover, only to insist on drinking water the entire time)

Blitz: (Assaulting people who bully his friends with horridly bright glitter)

Rachel Elizabeth Dare: (Painting her entire damn body absurd colors)

[lush-escape]

INDIGO

Part 4

Southern!Jason Todd x Reader

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 ||

Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8 || Part 9 || Part 10 ||

Part 11 || Part 12 || Epilogue ||

You watch Jason move around the house like a single day hadn't passed, he still knew the place like the back of his hand.

"I'm gonna stay here for a minute. Think I'm 'bout fused with the wood at this point." You respond, your eyes closing as you feel the cold air slowly start to creep into the kitchen.

"Come join me, it's cooler down here."

Jason laughs at your insistence on staying on the kitchen floor, but part of him actually doesn't mind the idea of joining you. It feels almost nostalgic, being back in your parents' old house.

"Alright, alright." He relents, placing the glass of water on the counter before settling down next to you on the tile.

He lets out a sigh of relief as the cooler air from the AC washes over him. "You're right, it is cooler down here."

The two of you lie there in comfortable silence for a moment, the only sound being the gentle hum of the AC. Jason glances over at you, his eyes roaming your face as a small smile forms on his lips.

"You know, I never thought I'd be sittin' on the kitchen floor at your old house again."

He chuckles softly, the memory of your past adventures together coming to mind. "Feels kind of weird, being back here after all this time."

Jason's gaze softens as he looks at you lying next to him on the kitchen floor. The years seem to fade away, and for a moment it feels like you're teenagers again.

He can practically see the old memories playing out in the dust particles floating in the air - the sneaking out, the hide and seek games, the sleepovers in the living room.

'He's right.' You think, it does feel weird being back here. So many memories, both good and bad, flooding back all at once.

You shift on the floor to look at him more directly.

"It feels weird for me too," You say softly. "This place is still the same, but I feel like I’m not."

Jason looks at you, his expression turning more serious as he takes in your words.

"Yeah, I get that."

He hesitates for a moment, as if he's afraid to ask his next question. But curiosity and concern win out in the end.

"You doin' okay, darlin'? I mean, going through all of this on your own. It can't be easy."

You take a second to answer, mulling over your answer. "Some days are easier than others." You respond quietly. "But I'm doin' my best." You look back up at the ceiling and swallow.

Jason nods understandingly, a wave of empathy. He knows all too well what it's like to struggle on your own.

He turns his gaze back to the ceiling, his mind racing with thoughts. He wants to say something, anything, wants to offer some sort of comfort or support, but he's never been good with words.

Instead, he reaches out and gently places his hand on top of yours. A silent gesture of solidarity.

The two of you lay there on the kitchen floor, the sound of the AC providing a soothing background noise. Jason's hand, still placed on top of yours, feels warm and solid. The touch is unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome. In fact, it'l brings comfort in a way that words can't describe. As if the physical contact alone is enough to communicate the complex emotions bubbling beneath the surface.

It's a few minutes before you finally speak up. Your voice is quiet, a little rough with emotion.

"What did you do? When I left?" You always wondered about Jason after you left for school. It was easy to lose contact back then. Anytime you asked your mom about him all she would ever tell you was, "he's getting by".

Jason's expression goes distant, his gaze unfocused as he thinks back to that time.

"Honestly... I just tried to keep myself busy. Worked odd jobs here and there, got involved with some... let's just say, not-so-legal things. When things got bad at home I stayed here a few times but... didn't feel right without ya here. Your mama an' old man said it wasn't a problem but I felt more like a burden than a guest."

He pauses, as if debating whether or not to disclose this next part.

"I also got into a lot of fights. Got arrested a couple of times."

At that you roll over onto your stomach and stare at Jason in concern, there's a slight hint of disappointment behind your eyes.

"Jason..." You scold quietly, sympathetically.

"What were you thinkin'?" You ask in a near whisper. "Who was you even fightin' with?"

Jason avoids your gaze, suddenly feeling embarrassed and ashamed under your scrutiny.

"Mostly just anyone who looked at me wrong." He rubs a hand down his face, a sheepish expression starting to form.

"I was angry, darlin'. Angry at my mama, my old man. Hell I was even angry at myself. I had no one, no outlet for all the shit I was feeling. So... I took it out on whoever was closest."

He lets out a humorless chuckle. "I was a real pain in the ass, if you can believe that. Your mama was ready to knock some sense into me on multiple occasions."

He glances back over at you, his expression more serious.

"It wasn't my finest moments, I'll admit that. But somehow, she always seemed to still see the good in me, even when I couldn't."

[miyagic]

What he needs

Elio Perlman x m!reader

SUMMARY: What Elio never received, but always wanted and needed in his 17 years of life, you give him in a single day.

CMBYN MASTERLIST

w/c: 1.5k

English is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes.

a/n: You are a man, 1/2 years older than Elio, for me Elio only likes older men 💋. When I say I love Elio, it's because I LOVE Elio, I wanted to kick Oliver's ass and give my baby A LOT of love, as he deserves (I'm part of the Oliver hate club).

a/n: I watched the movie and read the book but Elio's personality feels so real and complex to me that I can't even make him as much accurate as I would like, sorry. I love him so much that I could die.

AFTER going to the town, Elio returns to his house at dusk. His father, Samuel Perlman, went on another one of his study tours, he would probably return in another two days, Samuel took advantage of the fact that it was close to his and Anella's birthday, so they both went out together.

Elio didn't really mind being alone at home, especially because he told his parents they could go without him, not that he didn't like his parents, but it's good to have some air sometimes.

And by air, Elio means you.

You are like a breath of air, a release, cold water on a hot day, soft classical music on a stressful day, a kiss on the eyelids when you're crying, a breath of wind while the water laps at your feet at night. For Elio, you are like going to the beach, but at night, where it is empty and calm, only the sound of the waves can be heard, while you feel the gentle wind and watch the moon and stars.

But unfortunately you are a man, and so is he. Elio doesn't really care about that, but the society does.

However, he doesn't want to let you go, it may seem selfish, but maybe he really is. He wants you all to himself, he wants to be yours, just yours, desperately.

So, honestly? Elio was just happy that his parents were out.

———☆———

AT THE BEGINNING of Anella and Samuel's first day in Berlin, Elio came to your house.

"[Name]?" he knocks on the door, to which he waited nervously. Not a minute later, you open the door, Elio suddenly wants to leave, but at the same time, he desperately wants to grab you and kiss you, explore your body in every way possible and be loved afterwards.

"Hey, El. How are you?" you smile at him and Elio wants to kiss that smile, but also leave that smile on your face forever.

"Hm..." he hesitates, feeling spontaneous regret and shyness, he felt stupid, "I wanted to invite you to go to my spot, with me" he knows his brain struggled to add an 'it's okay if you don't want to', but it wasn't okay, he desperately wanted some of your air, some of your love. He needed.

Or maybe he's convincing himself again that he needed something he just wanted, but if is not now, when?

But you like him too, don't you? Then you wouldn't mind, right?

Oh no, you don't mind.

———☆———

ELIO AND YOU stopped halfway, at a bookstore. Elio wanted to get some books to read there with you, and you being the sweet man that you are (and because you love Elio), you bought Elio a book, also buying one for yourself, "Find Me" by Andre Aciman.

After leaving the bookstore, you and Elio headed to his spot and within a few minutes, you both left your bikes on the grass. Elio hurriedly took off his all stars and placed his backpack on the floor.

You laughed when he almost fell because of his all star, Elio laughed along when he heard your laugh, but soon took your hand and guided you to the water after you took off your own shoes.

He entered naturally, being completely used to the cold waters of that place, he walked until the water reached below his knees and shorts.

You, not so used to the cold water there, stood on the edge just looking at him. Elio stopped in the middle of the water, looking at you and stretching both arms towards you. Accepting the invitation, you walked over to him, stopping in front of Elio.

Elio maintained eye contact with you, trying in some way to make you understand everything that was going on in his head. When he was satisfied, Elio just leaned in, resting his head on your chest as he closed his arms around you.

You hugged him back and Elio swore he could fall to his knees just from a simple hug.

What a needy boy, hm?

———☆———

IN THE AFTERNOON in that same day, you and Elio lay down on the grass, both wet after a small water fight.

Elio poked your arm and stood up, going to his backpack, he took out the book you bought for him and yourself. He handed you the book and lay down next to you again, but now glued to you, wanting any kind of touch, even if it was just the sides of your bodies touching.

Elio opened his own book, starting to read, while you did the same thing.

After a few minutes of reading, you took one of your hands out of the book and grabbed Elio's hand, taking it out of his book as well, now both of you grabbing the books with just one hand.

Elio squeezed your hand, sighing. You accidentally touched a ticklish spot on Elio when you moved your hands, and that made you put down the book and smile.

"Tickling, Elio?" you smiled wider when he looked at you. You propped yourself up on one of your elbows, letting go of his hand.

He just looked at you, seeming to travel just by looking into your eyes. Then, you started tickling him.

Elio burst into laughter, dropping the book and squirming, he shouted "stop" amidst his laughter. Elio squirmed a lot, more than normal for someone who is just being tickled, and in the middle of this struggle, Elio ended up on top of you, and you stopped your tickling.

It was pretty obvious he had this in mind as he began to squirm and move more. He lay completely on top of you, his weight fell all over you, but he wasn't very heavy.

Elio sighed and relaxed completely, leaving his cheek resting on your chest. You then picked up your book again, reading with him relaxed against you.

Elio felt so complete, but so scared. He felt so good, but bad. It seems wrong, but it felt so right.

However, he shut his brain and felt like everything fell into place now, everything felt right, everything felt complete, he felt good. There was no longer any doubt, he wanted to stay there, just there. With you and only you, and if that were selfishness, he would be selfish with all pleasure. And in the end, his brain agreed too.

Completely at peace, he fell asleep. Oh god, he's so happy now.

———☆———

WHEN Elio woke up, it was already dusk. You left him where he was, however, you turned them sideways.

Elio noticed that you were no longer reading, and when he turned around, spooning, he saw that you were completing some random games in magazines.

“El, you have to go home” you dropped the magazine and Elio leaned his head back, hitting it against your chest, grumbling.

"Why?" he groaned.

“Because it’s almost night” you kissed his forehead and stood up, Elio grabbed you but you just pulled him up with that.

He got up, but threw himself at you, which made you grab his entire body in a hug around the waist.

Elio stayed like that for a few more minutes before accepting and walking towards the bikes. He put on your shoes with you and when he was about to put his backpack on his back, you took it off him and carried it while you sat on the bike.

———☆———

WHEN you arrived at his house, it was already night.

You left your bikes leaning against the wall and entered together. Elio held your hand and led you to his room. You left his backpack on a chair after closing the door and walked over to him.

"...Do you really have to go?" Elio held eye contact again.

"Yes, El, your parents may not be here, but Mafalda is" you ran a hand through his hair and Elio leaned into your touch.

He swallowed and sighed, muttering an "Okay." You ran your hand over his cheek, stroking it lightly and turned to leave, before Elio stood in front of you and hugged you tightly by the neck.

You hugged him back and he almost tried to climb onto you. You tightened the hug and pulled away a little to look at him, but Elio leaned forward again, but now kissing you.

Elio's kiss was almost desperate, but full of affection. After you kissed back, his kiss calmed down. Elio ran his hands over the back of your neck, playing with your hair.

"Elio, I really have to leave" you broke the kiss, touching your forehead to his, "How about we go to the square tomorrow?" Elio instantly cheered up at your words.

"Yes, please," he almost whispered. You rub his back before breaking the hug, leaving only one of your hands clasped with one of his.

You hesitantly let go of each other and then you kissed his cheek with a smack and left his room.

Only after you left did Elio remember that you hadn't agreed on a time. Well, it looks like you're going to have a visitor early in the morning.

[gloriousmonsters]

the thing about shittily written ya/romantasy/probably more books but they're the most new books i keep reading 5 pages of out of horrified curiosity, is that it's not just the characters being bland and the writing being serviceable at best and the plot being ehh and the romance instant and unappealing. it's that the authors so often seem unacquainted with the most basic facts of reality, or approach everything with a lackadaisical imprecision that makes the world feel vague and unreal. Rant under cut bc it got long slifdjf

Literally just glanced at a book sample where the main character is told to fetch 'a youngling hare' and proceeds to fetch a rabbit kit, which is described as so small the main character easily holds it in one hand but is apparently old enough to wildly hop around and scream two minutes later. We're told she kneels down on a paver a specific distance away but not what the wider environment looks like, except that it's a courtyard with like. tons of shrines and benches just kind of standing around. A snake in that scene is asleep, then instantly wakes up and goes to attack the rabbit, then after it attacks the main character it's 'coiled on the ground dead or asleep' 3 seconds later which like, you can't tell the difference between dead and asleep? why not pick one? why do you think it could have fallen asleep in three seconds while someone was screaming bloody murder? Also the main character is sad she can't do magic (which stems from her mommy instincts i mean compassion and according to reviews is unlocked by getting dicked down later in the book) because 'there aren't many roles for noble girls' and this means she HAS to become. a maidservant. the entire servant staff of her magic school slash convent is apparently made of failed students and no rich family has ever had a problem with this. that's more poorly done human behavior but i had to shout it out.

Or for a real doozy, one of my pinnacle-of-poor-grasps-of-reality reference points induces such questions as, 'Has the author ever seen a cat? In person?', 'Does the author know you need to feed cats?', 'Does the author know you don't check a cat's pulse in its wrist if you find it dead?', 'Does the author know that clay isn't a rock and you don't chisel it to make sculptures?', 'Why doesn't the author know what brownstone is and instead persistently describes it as 'reddish-brown stone' one million times?', 'Does the author think you naturally only get one type of tree in a forest?', 'Does the author know that towns exist in locations for a reason?', 'Does the author know you develop muscle if you train with a sword every day?', 'Does the author know you can't train yourself in the sword based on vibes and need either a teacher or like, a youtube tutorial at least?'

and it takes so. little. effort. to have your books feel in vague contact with reality, or just have some specific details. Google sucks but even now you could find out that a hare isn't a rabbit from it, and there's plenty of other free search engines. You can think 'there's all those houses with a specific color of stone in New York state, what's that called?', or search 'common trees in new york' in order to throw like, three varieties in. You can spend two sentences saying 'the convent is huge, it feels like the whole world. Even the front courtyard houses two dozen shrines with narrow paths between them; if you didn't look around to see the massive bulk of the main building against the sky, you'd forget you weren't in a town.' (Also, explain why the courtyard is full of shit when courtyards are usually open stretches of ground, please and thank you, or use a different word. And explain why if there's one goddess you have 90 shrines, are they all single-person and there's a time everyone needs to pray at once? alone???)

Read one book on whatever time or location you're basing your shit off. Find a small town in the real world and use it's population, presence and historical reason for being settled and remaining populated as inspiration for your fictional small town. I feel like when I read something that's praised for rich worldbuilding they're very often just ripping off a specific country or time period (done well or badly) because something being kinda based off reality feels vivid compared to a kingdom where the important people consist of three noble families if you're lucky and a single, sibling-less monarch who presumably does Something since there's no other people in the government but never seems busy, or a small town which maintains a full police force with a sheriff and has a mayor but appears to have one, maybe two streets and the population of a hamlet. NAME A BIRD. no, that's not enough, NAME TWO BIRDS. give the main character a favorite food and then spend 5 minutes thinking about where that food originated. you do not need to be Tolkien but people need to have jobs that aren't solely those represented in the opening number of Beauty and the Beast. we can't all be booksellers and bakers and nobody is capable of being gaston.

this will naturally lead to improving your characters somewhat and your plot, because you have a framework for where both of them exist. it can't help you with your shit romance, though, you need to go on a pilgrimage to the cursed western mountain for that

[blurbfics]

There'd Better Be a Mirrorball | Azriel x OFC [part twelve]

Summary: Azriel frets over Eowyn's wellbeing. Gwyn delivers an unpleasant message.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: angst, yearning, self-deprecating talk, anger, worry, self-doubts

a/n: can't be a proper slow-burn without some yearning, right? sorry lovelies, we gotta go through Angst Road to get to Smut and Fluff Blvd. all i have to say is please go vote! and of course, rest in peace liam payne (rip my eternal hope that we'd see the boys together again at some point)

Minors, do not interact.

part eleven

masterlist

"But she once fell through the street

Down a manhole in that bad way

The underground drip

Was just like her scuba days

Days

Daze"

Interpol, Stella was a diver and she was always down

He goes four nights without seeing her.

Three days and four nights of prowling the entrance to the library, of having his shadows slither down to investigate and report on her progress. Three days of not seeing her, and although Cassian tried to console him with the reminder that he’s gone longer without seeing her when he goes on long missions, his brother is well aware that it isn’t the same and with a single look from Azriel, pointed and unfaltering, he doesn’t try to bring it up to him again.

All the waiting and the worrying and the asking, the begging for the smallest crumbs of information from any priestess that came into his path (that of which was usually Gwyn, who blessedly went directly to him to report on Eowyn’s wellbeing), was torture for him.

And Azriel knew torture. Knew it quite literally like the back of his marred grotesque hands.

He doesn’t sleep that night, the first night. Didn’t sleep much the other three but that first night, after the priestesses kicked him out and he was ‘persuaded’ to leave the library altogether with Rhys’s logical reasoning and Cassian’s… physical cajoling, he allowed them to move him only as far as the entrance to the library leading up to the House of Wind and then he stayed there, alone and in silence, awake the entire night. 

His shadows, finding it easier to sneak through, didn't even confirm with him before going down to look after her at their own accord before he could even think about sending them out to do it, and they stayed by her side to relate to him everything that happened to her.

That is, until he considered that what he was doing was an invasion of her privacy, so he retracted them much to their (and admittedly his) chagrin and he remained there, fretting and pacing, murmuring to his shadows and to himself. He found he could not sit longer than two and a half minutes without feeling frantic energy build within him, and sleep came to no avail. Throughout that time, he finally took Cassian’s invitation to stay at the House of Wind, if only to wash and get his meals, in the rare occasion he remembered to eat.

The second day went by much the same but he had the entirety of the day to consider not only the turn of events in the apothecary and what the herbalist revealed, but particularly her words as she was having her episodes. While still herself, she told him not to pay any heed to her words yet how was he supposed to forget her pained cries?

Her voice echoed through his mind.

“B-but I did! I swear it ada*, I did! I mended every single one of your— no no, ada, please!”

The things the shadows managed to capture while still inside only got worse in nature. The first words she had spoken in his ear, however, those words spoken in another language echoed through his mind day and night. The frustration at not knowing what they meant was driving him half insane. On the third day, after hearing from Gwyn that she was doing much better, now seeming much more lucid— he had admittedly sniffed derisively at that but made no further comment— he took to the skies and paid a quick visit to his brother.

Without any hemming and hawing he went straight to the point. “I need you to translate something.”

Rhys was quick with it, immediately breaching past Azriel’s lowered mental walls to dig his talons to peer inside. Azriel freely offered him the memory, not lingering on the details he wanted to keep only to himself, like the feel of her soft supple body in his arms, and the way she’d dug her face in his neck and inhaled, consequently bringing her so close to his face that he could do nothing but freely bask in her scent himself.

Clearly guessing where Azriel’s train of thought inevitably trailed off to, Rhys didn’t linger long inside Azriel’s head but didn’t offer the answer with the immediacy Azriel was seeking.

“Well?” He pressed in a manner that was more natural to Cassian.

“It’s a very ancient tongue. One I thought to be extinct long ago,” Rhys answered at last. “I’ll need to ask Amren.”

“There’s no time,” Azriel hissed, running a hand through his hair, “she won’t be here until next week.”

“Amren arrives today,” Rhys raised an eyebrow, his own violet eyes scanning Azriel in concern. “Have you slept at all, brother?”

Azriel dismissed him. “There’s no time,” he repeated under his breath. With shadows furling faster around him, he turned to leave.

“I’ll let you know what I learn,” is the last thing he heard from the High Lord before he stepped into his shadows back to the House of Wind’s entrance to the library.

By the fourth day, his shadows— disobedient things that they were— reported back that Eowyn’s seizing visions were becoming few and far between and she was now resting, reading and conversing with Clotho and Gwyn. After he’d made sure that Eowyn was faring better, he accepted Nesta's insistence for him to have dinner with her and Cassian, only to have Gwyn herself step into the kitchen as they ate.

He startled when the young priestess stepped in, however, heart in his throat at the thought of something happening to Eowyn in the ten minutes he’d been away. “Is everything-“

“Oh I’m sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she blushed shyly and the way she carried herself spoke of curious trepidation, not the concerned urgency he feared. She did, however, seem rather tired and he found he was endlessly grateful to her for caring for Eowyn in a way he couldn’t do. In a way Clotho hadn’t allowed him to.

(It sent a sharp shooting pain through his chest to consider that it was Eowyn herself who hadn't wanted him there; that she didn’t trust him to stay at her side after the long months of spending almost every day together, of having gotten to know each other so intimately. It was easier to blame Clotho for not allowing him to stay. The alternative left him with a feeling that was too raw and ugly to consider at the moment.)

“You’re not,” Nesta said mildly, if a touch concerned herself. “Everything okay with Eowyn?”

“Oh yes, she’s doing much better,” Gwyn assured them quickly, “she’s been reading dreadfully boring old texts all day about minerals or rocks or something, so you know that means she’s pretty much back to normal.”

Cassian and Nesta immediately invited her to sit and eat with them, which she did after a brief moment of hesitation. “I mostly just came up to let you guys know the good news and deliver a message from Eowyn saying that she’ll join us tomorrow morning, but she won’t be able to stay for training with Azriel,” she gave Azriel a quick pout as if to emphasize her point. He chuckled lightly at the sight, feeling a heavy weight lift off his shoulders at the certainty of seeing Eowyn the following morning. The pang of disappointment that shot through him at not being able to see her during their session together was immediately quelled by the reminder that she still had to take it easy and recuperate after such a dreadful episode– which inevitably led to the reassuring thought of spending that time with her anywhere else for the day, taking care of her if she allowed him to. “For some time.”

It took him a second to understand.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Gwyn swallowed nervously, “we were talking about training and how she’s doing much better now. Remember Cassian? When you mentioned last session how she can start training with Em and Nesta and I? And well, she-“ she continued to ramble, speaking quickly, “well she thinks that since she’s pretty much caught up now, she doesn’t have to stay after and train with you anymore.”

“She doesn’t get to decide when she’s caught up,” he hissed through his teeth, incredulously, still trying to wrap his mind around her words. He narrowed his eyes, unbelieving, “and why doesn’t she tell me this herself?”

“Well she said she would, but thought it would be a good idea if I just… told you, while you're here,” she blushed again, looking up at him through her lashes. “She… well, she insisted she doesn’t need to train as much anymore.”

He pursed his lips in annoyance, but tried not to let it show as he considered Gwyn’s words, still reeling. He zoned out for the remainder of his quick dinner, too lost in his head as he considered Gwyn’s announcement, spoken with such nonchalance that he couldn’t bring himself to accept it.

Still, the more he considered that, the more he considered the way Eowyn had so viciously attacked the herbalist and the more he thought about that, the more he thought about the herbalist’s revelation. 

She said that Eowyn was a witch, and had Eowyn tried to deny it at all? Now that he thought about it, he realized she hadn’t, but she hadn’t confirmed it either. Had she lied right to his face when she talked about her abilities?

He felt his mind begin to clear now that the concern for her wellbeing was wearing off. He considered everything that had happened since he came back from his mission to find her stomping through the streets of Velaris, seeming angry and unlike herself. He hated himself for not having considered telling Rhysand about the herbalist’s accusation.

Witches were extinct. Those that were rumored to survive the Great Witch Purge, lived in the far reaches of the Middle, where they practiced all sorts of dark magic and were rumored to hate all faeries, but were known to consume their blood to be able to access their magic.

Witches were typically considered evil beings by all species, but most importantly, they were known to be extremely powerful. 

Rhysand, however, was never the type to believe the stereotypes applied to different creatures, an Illyrian and Shadowsinger like himself included, and knew better than to believe the necessary facade of dark infamy and notoriety in order to survive in this world as a powerful creature, lest they be hunted down to be enslaved and used for barbaric acts.

To have a witch under one’s control would be just as dangerous, if not more, as having access to the Cauldron itself.

Rhys had never expelled nor hunted a witch himself, but it wasn’t in his nature to outright mistreat or deny a being that could be a possible ally, as well as an equal.

For only the briefest of instances– born out of centuries worth of friendship, of fraternal familiarity, acceptance, and love for his brother– he considered telling Rhysand about the accusation made against her.

But he wouldn’t tell his brother about Eowyn, he realized grimly. Both ashamed at himself for withholding possibly valuable and integral information that could strengthen their Court and the general citizens of all of Prythian; and ashamed by even considering betraying Eowyn’s trust before he could even have the opportunity to speak to her about it first.

If he slept at all that night, it was sparse and filled with dark and tortuous nightmares of his family hating him. The thought of Eowyn hating him left a sinking empty void in the center of his being that stole all sleep and breath away from him altogether.

When he woke up hours before the break of dawn, having dreamt of her briefly, an entire audience of hers, laughing at him as he opened up and shared with her a part of himself that he didn’t think worthy of sharing with anyone else, his guilt and grief turned into simmering anger.

So when he saw her the next morning, wearing a covering that revealed only her eyes, he approached her and asked, “how are you feeling?”

“Much better,” her voice was calm and neutral, lacking both the usual teasing lilt and the anger and desperation of the last time they’d spoken. “Thank you for bringing me back to the library. And for asking for me while I was indisposed.”

The way her voice came out emotionless, formal, and cold while her eyes looked just as dark and beautiful as ever— even rested, for once— pissed him off even more.

“Good,” he snapped and turned away from her, refusing to watch as she walked over to her usual spot and decided, at that moment, to not look at her at all for the rest of the session. Still, he was always aware of her presence and as his shadows reminded him, they had not promised to look away from her, so he knew, even without looking at her, that she trained in unfaltering unison with the rest of the priestesses. 

Two things happened during that session. First was the feel of Rhys talons in his head as his research finally paid off; then came Eowyn’s impressive but entirely unsurprising achievement, for she was a natural warrior and she had made great success in the months they had trained together. 

Failing to remember his resolution to not look at her, he watched her in complete open awe– as expressive and adoringly as a stoic and unemotional male like him could show.

In an effortless and perfect stance, she stood before the pole with a familiar light-consuming obsidian dagger held in an offensive hold above her head, hips and feet positioned perfectly, knees bent at just the right angle.

At the end of that morning session, the morning after she’d had someone else tell him she didn’t need him any more, Eowyn cut the ribbon. 

While he was indescribably proud of her achievement, the act was like a slap in the face. 

As if the Cauldron or Fate or the Mother herself were sharing a laugh at his expense, her action only reinforced the words Rhys had translated in his mind earlier in the day: I will never cede.

—

After training, as all the Valkyries filed out of the training ring and back into the library– Eowyn among the last few who happily celebrated her successful cut– he called out her name.

She pretended she didn’t hear him. 

His irritation was only fuelled by Cassian’s knowing look and understanding pat to the shoulder before taking off into the skies to offer Azriel some privacy.

As soon as his brother took off, he tried to call Eowyn’s name again but despite it catching the attention of a few priestesses, Gwyn among them, who quickly turned to Eowyn and nudged her, Eowyn did not stop.

He hadn’t taken her for a coward. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Beyond annoyed at that point, Azriel sent off a few shadows to cinch around her waist and stop her from going further, even pulling her back a little.

The surprise in her eyes was brief before her face fell back into cool neutrality. The sight of it pissed him off so much, he finally understood his family’s frustration at him when he schooled his features back into place.

She waved at the others to continue without her and then turned to him, her gaze blazé and unlike her.

“Didn’t Gwyn tell you?”

“Tell me what exactly,” he bit, wanting to hear it from her.

“I won’t be able to stay and train with you after our group sessions anymore.”

It was a simple statement of fact, and the way in which she said it, so nonchalantly and unbothered, had his cool anger boiling in his veins, fueled by the hurt in his chest.

“Why?”

She looked away then, but not for long. She observed him quietly for a moment, seeming to be thinking of how to form her words. “I just… don’t think I need it anymore,” he saw it coming yet it still struck him- this time in the pit of his stomach, “the main reason why I accepted the extra training was to wear off some of the excess energy I felt, but I’m doing better now, now that it’s all over,” she waved her hand casually, as if her being so ill and delirious for days was a normal occurrence.

“You’ll have questions, I imagine,” she tilted her head and he felt how she watched him, taking him in. He wondered if she smelt or felt the anger rolling off of him, if she knew of the growing desire and necessity for her. She didn’t let him reply to her, merely shook her head, “it’s not a good time right now-“

“Don’t you dare-“

“I have a lot of work to catch up on,” she interrupted him. She looked to the stairs and sighed before turning back to him. “Are you free tonight? For dinner?”

His heart leaped to his throat, “yes.”

She nodded, “Nesta and Gwyn, they… they have a dinner planned tonight. You’re welcome to join.”

He deflated slightly at that, disappointed it wouldn’t be just them. Another thought struck him, however, for how would she eat if her face was covered? 

With a kindled excitement he managed to control, he nodded to her, releasing his shadows from her waist to let her go. “I’ll see you tonight.”

*ada is elvish for father in tolkien’s lotr’s lore. all credit goes to him. he is, of course, a great inspiration of mine

taglist: @lilah-asteria , @a-courtof-azriel , @honk4emoboyz , @feyretopia , @mrsjna , @buttermilktea11 , @bravo-delta-eccho , @kylieinwonderland , @adventure-awaits13 ,

[contentloadingandstuff]

This is not a post about writing. Sorry.

I don't want to put personal things on this blog. You're here to read the stuff I write, and don't want to listen to me whine. I understand that. And yet here I am.

As predicted, though it came much faster. It's already been a week and I'm starting to have enough of this. The entire day was spent at the university because my lessons are spaced out throughout the day. I have added another two annoying, condescending and egoistic professors. I miss high school already, and I never thought I would - everything was better organised back then. Classrooms packed, stuffy, filthy chair-desks. Every teacher has their own rules and programmes. Every one of them says that it's going to be difficult. Thanks, I didn't realise that when I signed up for five years of law. They give tasks and homework that involve other people, people that I don't know and that seem to not give a flying duck about me when I try to seek them out. So much boring text to dig through, while not even knowing which parts are important. I got into the highest language group (C1) in English. My reward? Two years spent working my ass off with a nasty hag as my teacher. I have to commute ninety minutes to campus. I missed my bus today by two stops. Now it's forty minutes more commuting as punishment. And then twenty minutes on foot. I left my house at 8, I will come back at 20. Twelve hours. Every Monday since now. Half of which are actually spent on learning.

I'm tired. The bed is tough, the flat cramped and lonely. I have left everyone behind for this. Sure, I can travel back to them by train, but that costs. And my teachers allow just two missed classes, else you fail. Money management is giving me decision fatigue. I have long started digging into my savings, the stuff I got on my birthday. The rent is high. I need to get a flatmate to reduce the costs because my grandparents won't let me stay in this tiny flat for less than 3000 PLN (750$) monthly.

On top of that, my friends have gotten less talkative. I don't blame them, they have their own lives. If anybody texts or calls me, it's my family - only to learn about how I fare. Not in general, just at the university. Because there is nothing more to me. They tell me 'ah, yeah, that's going to suck :D' with a cheerful tone. Oh it already does. But I have to answer them that I'm fine, because it wouldn't do any good to tell them to piss off, or at least shut up if they have to be on my back.

I was excited at the prospect of being alone. I wouldn't have to be ashamed, worried or hide things. Independence, privacy. It quickly wore off. I stay up until 3 am, get five hours of sleep and go to uni. I play video games, but even they don't excite me as much as they used to. I feel like I've watched every single video on YouTube by now. I don't have the strength to go for new things now.

Writing is nothing but another source of stress now. When I do my dailies in Genshin I am reminded that I'm not writing. NAU stares daggers at me. I've killed it, but the first remade chapter isn't even halfway ready as of now.

I'm not going to the gym, or leaving the house that much. I'm eating trash food, for just a moment of distraction. I've bought more Lego than I bought for years recently. Just to get a moment of happiness when putting it together. I've spent money on things that I won't use. They don't seem as interesting when they are built. I can't sell them, I've opened them already. I lost two instruction books. They are useless.

I don't have a choice, I need to keep studying, but I don't want to. Now I have nobody to guide me through this mess. I need to work things out myself, but it's not what I can feasibly do.

I hate it here. I hate it now. I regret living up to this moment in my life. I wish I spared myself of all this. But I didn't have the strength to do it, even when I had the best chance.

So uh, writing is gonna be slow alright.

[quartzalynlove]

Without You (Pt 1)

Pairing: gojo x black! Fem! Reader

Summary: you're tired of Gojo's behavior and finally leave him for good

A/n: part two tomorrow!!

"Get out!"

Gojo tried to catch up with you stomping down the hallway, but you weren't going to let him catch you.

"Y/N!" He tried to call you helplessly. In your state, he may as well have been talking to a brick wall.

You finally stopped as you reached the door, opening it before Gojo.

"Get the hell out of my house."

Still, he had the audacity to flash that ignorant smirk at you as if you weren't dead serious right now.

"Baby." The honey in his voice made you sick.

You pointed your finger. "Don't you dare 'baby' me! I'm tired of this Satoru; you're a grown man but refuse to act like it."

With his hands raised, as if to admit he was wrong, Gojo tried to reason with you. "Y/N, can we just—"

Your fingers snapped out the open door, tired of hearing excuses, and tired of letting him in again. Sighing defeatedly, Gojo walked slowly out of your apartment. The second he was past the door frame, you shut the door and didn't look back. You expected the sigh you breathed out to be frustrated, but it sounded more like exhaustion. Every time you took him back, you thought he loved you again. But if he loved you, then why did he make the same mistakes?

~

Gojo knew you well enough to know that the face you put on at school the next day was a desperate act. Desperate for control, desperate to ignore your feelings. He wasn't going to be arrogant about it, you had every right to scream at him and break things off, but he never knew you could sting his heart so badly.

Honestly, everyone except the kids could tell what happened between you. They did question why Gojo never came to your class just to annoy you by interrupting your lesson, but you seemed fine so they thought nothing of it. However, when you got time to chat with Shoko, she knew right away.

"So, what'd he do now?" She asked out of nowhere.

For a split second, you looked surprised she could tell, but you knew by now that Shoko knew everything.

You scoffed. "What do you think? I'm just sick and tired; I can't deal with it anymore."

"Does this mean we're spared of your dance to Crazy In Love at the party this weekend?" Shoko laughed.

Although you laughed along with her, you thought about that dance you and Gojo did together. It was mostly his choreography, and although you practiced for hours to perfect it, you couldn't recall hating a single minute of it.

Your smile turned sad, "I guess so," you quickly bounced back. "But, hey, when's the last time we got down on the floor?"

Shoko joined you with a smile as you started two-stepping. You heard your watch beep over the sound of the two of you laughing. It was time to head back to your room before the last class. Before you left, however, Shoko called out.

"Come hang out with us at Mei Mei's to get ready, we've missed you."

You thought to yourself. Had it really been so long since you've hung out with your friends? In a few months, it would've marked two years that you and Gojo were together, or on-again-off-again. With an absent look in your eye, you nodded.

"I'll be there."

You got back just as Nobara, Yuuji, and Megumi were entering your class. Everything went as normal as you taught your lesson. The bell eventually rang, and Yuuji and Nobara hung back to chat with you. Along with Megumi, who tried to look reluctant but really didn't mind. It was the usual conversation of how they've grown as sorcerers, further mastering their techniques and general skills. Then, Yuuji asked an unusual question.

"Are you and Gojo going to the teacher party this weekend?"

Amusement and shock mixed on your face. "Where'd you hear about a teacher party?"

"From Todo," he explained. "Well, from Todo who heard it from Miwa who overheard Ms. Utahime talking about it."

You chuckled lightly, "Well, I'm going."

They all noticed how you stressed that you'd go alone, "What about Gojo?" Itadori pressed, and you'd realize you had to figure out how to professionally tell them that Gojo wasn't worth the sweat off his back.

"I'm pretty sure he will." You smiled absently as Megumi's eyes narrowed.

"You broke up." He realized, bows raising like he'd seen you rescued from a car crash.

A light sigh left you. "Yes, Gojo and I broke up."

Nobara and Yuuji gasped almost overdramatically while Megumi still seemed to be holding back a smile.

"What happened?" The two demanded.

You couldn't help the laugh that came out. It was only natural that they reacted this way. You and Gojo were their favorite teachers, and they were ecstatic when they found out the two of you were together. Still, you definitely could not spill such personal details of your life to your students, so instead you laughed them off.

"Will you nosy kids go back to your dorms and out of my hair?"

Looking positively deflated, they did what you said and turned on their heels out of your door. Once they were gone, you stared out of the classroom door and back to your class. Your eyes looked over the chalkboard. All full of your writing and examples and absent of any stupid doodles around the edges.

You packed your things and erased the board before going back home.

~

Mei Mei's bedroom and attached bathroom were filled with music, laughing, and the smell of margaritas. You, Shoko, Utahime, and her were spending three hours before the party picking outfits and doing your makeup and hair. Shoko wore a suit with heels, and Mei Mei insisted on making her hair wavy. Mei Mei herself wore a sparkly silver dress with heels to match and a black choker. She took out her usual braid and kept her hair swept on one side. Utahime was the most casual out of the four of you, simply wearing a black halter top and leather pants with black heels. Her hair was in a high ponytail and she drew a purple star under the corner of her eye.

You were still in the bathroom, however, finishing up your makeup.

"I'm so happy for you Y/N," you heard Utahime say. "Gojo was never worth the time of day, but I'm glad you cut him off for good."

"I don't know how you stayed with a man that ridiculous...or cheap." Mei Mei added.

You sighed, continuing to apply your eyeliner. "I tried to make it work, but I can only be lied to for so long."

"Don't think it's your fault," Utahime shouted. "There's no changing a man like him."

Stuffing your makeup back in your bag, you went out to your friends to show them the outcome. You kept your hair how it was, glossed your lips and lined them darkly, and added a beauty spot under your eye. As for your dress, it was a mini emerald green bodycon with subtle ruffles. And you paired them with black heels that strapped all the way up your lower legs. The girls all gasped, staring at you in awe. Mei Mei was the first to snap out of it and started towards you with open arms.

"Our Y/N is back!" She squeaked, trapping you in a bear hug.

The others cheered and also threw their arms around you.

[hawkdisaster]

Characters : Martyn Reyne, Leon Estermont, Eddard Waters, Aegon II Targaryen, Jaehaera Targaryen, Jaehaerys Targaryen, Maelor Targaryen Triggers warnings : None Words count : 1748 words

(Credit goes to @thecutestgrotto)

Modern AU. Far away from their family, life is sweet and peaceful for Aegon, Helaena and their children. ▬ Chapter 5

— Can either of you get a response from him?

— No.

— Not a single one.

Leon and Eddard's response is unanimous, and Martyn is worried. Crap. It's not like Aegon not to answer when one of them calls or texts him. A doubt assails Martyn, a most unpleasant premonition. This is not Aegon's habit, unless today is a bad day. One of those days when their best friend withdraws into himself, preferring to shut himself away and be alone with his demons rather than surrounded - supported - by family and friends. Out of the corner of his eye, Martyn sees Eddard tapping away on his phone. No doubt trying to contact Aegon again. Once again, there was no answer. And he himself is holding back from stepping on the accelerator, if only to get there faster. Thanks the Seven, he didn't need to risk a speeding ticket, just to eat his heart out for ten minutes or so before he could park his car in front of Aegon's cottage.

— Come on Aeg, answer ..., mumbles Leon, knocking on the door three times. Aegon is at home, but I can't get through to him either. Unable to get their friend on the phone, the three of them had been forced to call Helaena, who had also been unable to get in touch with her brother and husband. As a result, she was worried, all three of them were worried and Aegon wasn't answering his bloody phone ! If something had happened, to the children as well as to him... Inside the house, the three of them could hear children crying, but at last the front door opened in front of them. And if Martyn's first feeling was relief - it's obviously not a bad day - this was quickly replaced by concern when he saw the state Aegon was in : his face was far too pale, sweat was beading on his forehead and he looked exhausted, unable to calm Maelor who was sobbing uncontrollably in his arms.

— Martyn, Eddard, Leon ? What are you doing here ?

— We wanted to spend some time with you all but you didn't reply to any of our messages. Helaena told us you were here with the children, so we were a little worried about you, Eddard replies. Aegon put Maelor back on his hip, a hand on his forehead, while in the living room Martyn saw Jaehaerys' white curls jumping onto the sofa :

— What ? I'm... I'm sorry, guys, I can't remember where I put my phone, but this clearly isn't the best time for a visit : Helaena left yesterday for Bitterbridge with two of her friends to celebrate one of them's birthday, the children are a bit too agitated for me to calm them down, and to make matters worse, I've been feeling a bit ill since this morning...

A bit ill, to put it mildly. Aegon seems literally on the verge of collapse, so much so that he barely resists when Martyn takes Maelor from his arms or when Leon gently pushes him into the living room, Eddard closing the door behind them.

— On the contrary, it's the perfect time. Now, Dad, you're going to go to bed and get some rest while we look after our nephews, and that's non-negotiable, decreed Martyn as Aegon sheepishly closed his mouth without saying a word before obeying without the slightest protest, soon disappearing upstairs. Leaving the three friends free to look after their nephews. Since there were no blood ties between them, Maelor, Jaehaera and Jaehaerys were not really their nephews and nieces, but for Leon, Eddard and himself, it was just the same. All three had known Aegon practically since childhood. All three had seen him ruin his life in every way imaginable, refusing their help. All three had seen him fight his way back, once he was convinced that he didn't have to fight alone, that his family and friends were there to help him. All three had been there when Helaena's water broke for the birth of the twins in the middle of a pizza party, driving the expectant parents - including a panicked young father - to the maternity ward, trying to be as helpful as possible (Eddard was a keen cook and took great pleasure in stocking their fridge with cooked meals so that they could both make the most of their newborns). All three had seen Aegon and Helaena become the best parents a child could hope to have. And all three treated the couple's children as their own, never shying away from helping out when necessary.

— Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, would you like to make some pancakes ?

— YES !

Both visibly excited by Eddard's proposal, the twins abandoned their "game" of chasing each other around making as much noise as possible - Martyn wouldn't be the least bit surprised if Aegon was suffering from a gigantic headache in addition to his fever - and rushed into the kitchen shouting with joy, Leon barely taking the time to warn Helaena that her brother-husband was a little ill but that he and their children were in good hands before joining them. Leaving Martyn alone with Maelor. And although the little boy's sobbing had lessened in intensity, he continued to cry softly in his arms.

— Well, little man, why so much sobbing ?

Maelor sniffled without answering, fidgeting in her arms to look around the room, obviously looking for something. Or for someone. Looking for Helaena? Looking for Aegon? Or both.

— It's all right, little man, I know you miss your mum but, you know, sometimes mums need to be with their friends to take a breather, even if Helaena is so lucky to have given birth to three wonderful little angels. As for your dad, he's just gone to rest because he's so tired. But you're a very clever little boy and I'm sure you understand that, don't you ? You know there's something wrong with your daddy, but you can't explain it and it worries you, so you cry because there's nothing else you can do.

Martyn wanted to avoid any slightly dubious comparisons, but it was a bit like cats, which were intelligent enough to recognise certain states of mind such as joy or sadness in their owners. And despite his young age, Maelor had had no trouble understanding that his father wasn't at his best, although he hadn't been able to explain it. And that was probably terrifying for such a small boy.

— But Eddard, Leon and I are here to look after you and your dad will be back on his feet in no time, I promise, Martyn swore solemnly to his nephew, who snuggled up to him for a few moments for a big cuddle before pointing to the little group busy in the kitchen, and in particular to the small pile of hot pancakes sitting on the work surface that his brother, sister and uncles were busy preparing. Adorable but a belly on legs, just like his father.

It was hunger that woke Aegon from his sleep. Busy looking after his children and trying to ignore his nausea and headache, eating something was the last thing on his mind, so his stomach had been empty all morning. A plate with a few slices of toast still warm - the perfect remedy for heartache - and a thermos of coffee lay on his bedside table. And on the thermos hung a simple post-it note.

Granny Reyne's famous herbal tea !

A smile spread across his lips as he settled more comfortably into bed with the thermos in his hands. Ethel Reyne's famous herbal tea, the recipe of which she had passed on to her grandson Martyn, was much more than a simple tea, it was a magical remedy for nausea and headaches. By the Seven, it was so good ! He was so hungry that the toast and herbal tea had all the makings of a five-star meal, and both gave him the strength to get out of bed and join his children and friends. And the vision that awaited him in the living room made him melt : Martyn, Jaehaera and Maelor, who was distractedly caressing Dreamfyre curled up in a ball on his lap, were all absorbed in The Little Mermaid, Jaehaerys and Leon were drawing on the living room table and Eddard was busy at the stove. When his children saw him, they ran to him and he kissed all three of them on the forehead and smiled.

— Hello my darlings, I hope you've been good to your uncles ?

— Real little angels. We've warned Helaena that you're not feeling very well, but we've assured her that the four of you are in good hands. And I hope you're still hungry, there's a huge quantity of pancakes just waiting to be eaten, so why don't you sit down while I make you a plate ?

Guys, I love you so much.

We love you too.

The words aren't said. But they don't need to be : we're more than friends, we're family.

[zeezelweazel]

Bottom!Trans!Lottie got me good, because this girl is so much taller then me, bigger then me and I just can make her tremble like that?

I could innocently hug her and she would fold?

I have all this power over her?

I could just, bother the living hell out of her, I am a menace to society and she would feel the whole extent of that.

Like, ups, my hand brushed you a bit to close to there? I am so sorry babe.

Mh? What I am doing? Well your lap is rather comfortable. *proceeds to watch a movie with her and move a lot during it, feeling her getting hard*

And she couldn't do a single thing.

Though of course if she tells me really nicely whats bothering her, and begs I could help her out. >:)

Lottie Matthews| Movie Night|

______________________________________

THE FIRST FULL TRANS LOTTIE FIC LET'S GO

It's very short though, oops

I've been wanting to write this for some time lol sorry it took so long

TW: teasing, handjob and blowjob (Lottie recieving)

____________________________________________________

It was finally holiday season. Christmas is something everyone happily awaits but for the Yellowjackets it's the perfect opportunity for some well deserved rest.

For you and Lottie it was the perfect opportunity to spend night after night sitting on her couch watching shity Christmas movies. As usual her house is completely empty. Both of her parents are working abroad, some business trip she says, so she'll spend the holidays alone. You can't have that.

You're currently sitting on her lap watching Home Alone. You throw an occasional giggle here and there but Lottie's been awfully quiet. You turn to look at her, just to make sure she's doing okay, but as you move your hips you feel something hard press against your butt.

You look up at Lottie's face and she seems to be looking anywhere but you. You smirk as you perfectly understand what's going on. Your poor baby got all hard with you sitting on her lap.

"What's wrong Lot?"

Lottie's eyes snap back to you so quickly and her face flushes from embarrassment. She opens her mouth only to close it and swallow hard. You grin at her inability to answer. Lottie is so cute when she's embarrassed.

You want to see how long she'll last. How much time it'll take her to give up and beg you oh so sweetly for relief.

Time and time again you grind back against her hard cock and listen to her breathy whines. She tried so hard to hide her arousal from you but it was impossible with how you're sitting on her lap. She can't escape any of your ministrations and after a few minutes she has completely given up. She's fully pressing up against your ass now and her whimpers are getting louder and needier. You pause the movie and get up. Lottie is flushed red and looking at the floor. You chuckle and hold her face in your hands, your expression innocent and sweet.

"You needy little slut. All I wanted was to watch a movie and here you are grinding against my ass."

Lottie whimpered and pouted she looked at you waiting for you to do something but it was clear that you were waiting for a certain something. Lottie gulped and forced a breath out of her nose.

"Please Y/N I need you."

You pulled back pretending to think about it and almost awed at how adorable Lottie looked when she tried to chase after your touch. You slowly dropped to your knees and smiled up at her. Her eyes widened in excitement as she stumbled to get her sweats off. You noticed her hands were trembling and decided to help her a little.

You roughly pulled down her pants along with her boxers and her cock sprung out and hit her stomach. It was throbbing and twitching, clearly begging for your touch.

She didn't even have a chance to beg again. Your hand went to the base of her cock slowly pumping up and down. You took the tip in your mouth all while making eye contact with her. Her hips were trembling with effort Lottie was desperately trying not to thrust into your face.

You slowly started taking more of her in your mouth but yiu never quite manage to take all of her. She's too big. You gag against her dick and saliva trails down the side of your mouth. Your hand never stops moving.

"Y/N, I'm gonna come."

She sounded so positively ruined it only sprung you on. You hollowed out your cheeks and gave her a hard suck. That's all it took for Lottie to cum. Her thighs were shaking and her hips were now uncomfortable as they grinded on your face.

You looked at her in the eyes as you swallowed her load and she looked away embarrassed. She grabbed a pillow and covered her private parts. You raised your eyebrow at her but Lottie continued looking around.

"Lottie... Did you get hard again?"

Lottie dropped her head on her hands and after a while she nodded.

You smirked wide and pushed her down the couch.

"Best Christmas ever."

Lottie whispered right before you pulled her in for a deep lustful kiss.

____________________________________________________

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - A House Is Not A Home Part 2/8

Ruben's wife dies during childbirth along with their son. Ruben hasn't been in a relationship since. Y/N is a single mother to a four year old boy. She buys a house in the small town that Ruben lives in. The house needs alot of fixing which Ruben helps with, resulting in him slowly falling in love with Y/N. However, falling in love with Y/N makes Ruben feel like he is betraying his dead wife.

Enjoy!

The day after the storm.

To you it had only seemed like a bit of light rain, however Katarina and David, who was kind enough to let you stay with them for the night, explained that the storm hit bad for the farmers and their animals living out by the fields.

"But I live out by the fields?" You questioned.

The two of them shared a look of concern.

"What?"

Your questions answered themselves as you pulled into the driveway of your house. Your heart sank at the sight of it, the sight of destruction that had befallen. The once-sturdy oak tree in front of the house now lay across your roof, its branches tangled and broken. You parked the Cheevy and stepped out onto the porch, tears streaming down your face as you surveyed the damage.

"No. This can't be happening."

Just then, a pickup truck pulled up behind you, kicking up dust and gravel. A tall, lanky man with sharp eyes and a dented frown hopped out of the driver's seat. "Hey, you alright?"

He approached you with rushed steps.

"No. Look at my house." You sniffled, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. "It was just a normal storm," you said, trying to make sense of it all. "But this...this is just..."

"I'm sorry." The man said. "Do you live here alone?"

You nodded, feeling a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over.

"You're the new owner?"

"Yes, why?" You fretted the man's judgmental glare.

"But you're a woman." He frowned.

"Um...glad you noticed."

"No, I mean." He shook his head, letting himself get over the slight shock. "I recall selling the house to a Mr Johnny Marshall..."

"Oh...right."

You were thankful that you hadn't put make up on this morning, you would've looked a mess in front of strangers. "Johnny is my husband. I'm his wife,  Y/N." You offered the man your hand, he took it, shaking it firmly.

"Ruben,  Ruben Dias."

Your hands let go.

"You're Ruben?"

"You've heard of me?"

Heat rose to your face as the man's sharp eyes turned soft, curiously inspecting you.

"Um...Katarina and David." You stuttered. "I stayed with them during the storm. They told me that you would come today."

"They did?"

"Yeah. I arrived yesterday but there was a power outage in the house and so I called the number you gave me. To the bar?"

"You were at the bar last night?" A peculiar expression came across his face but was quickly wiped away.

"Y...yeah, I was at the bar. It's where I met Katarina and David. That's when they told me about you."

It felt like you were repeating yourself. It was becoming annoying.

Ruben stood with his hands on hips, looking to ponder what to do with you. "So where is he?"

"Who?" You frowned.

"You're husband?"

Somthing in your chest tightened. For a second breathing wasn't possible. "Johnny is ...um he's...."

Ruben raised a brow.

You exhaled, clearing your airways. "My husband...Johnny. He is working abroad actually. He's in the military."

"Okay, so you came to live here by yourself?"

"For now." You nodded, in a way, indicating that you were done answering his questions.

You watched Ruben take walk around the house, examining the fallen tree and the damage it had caused. After a few minutes, he returned to where you were standing on the porch, your arms crossed tightly over your chest.

"Well, the good news is that the tree didn't cause any structural damage to the house," he said. "But the roof will need to be replaced, and there's some serious cleanup up work to do before you can even think about repairs."

You felt a sense of relief wash over you. At least the house itself was okay. But the cost of repairs...you shook your head, feeling overwhelmed. "I don't know how I'm going to afford all of this," you admitted.

Ruben nodded understandingly. "Well there is no point in putting anything off."

"Put what off?"

"I have a pair of gloves in my trunk if you want to grab them?"

"And why would I do that?" You frowned.

Ruben chuckled. "You didn't think I'd clear all the damage for you. I mean, It's your house."

"Right...of course." You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should trust this stranger. But there was something kind and genuine about him that put you at ease. You went over to his truck and popped the trunk, grabbing the gloves.

"Alright. Where should we start?"

You joined Ruben's side as he overlooked the property. Alot needed to be done.

"The only way we can start. " He sighed.

"From the bottom?"

Ruben bent down to pick up some broken wood. You shrugged your shoulders and did the same.

[hatkuu]

we should be able to have kylar be with us at all times as our personal bodyguard shooting darts from afar isn’t enough i need him by my side 24/7. -propertyofkylar

@propertyofkylar dog whistle headcannon is so real right now.... Kylar would 200% wear a leash for you, you just have to ask really sweetly and he'll fall apart like wet paper!!

ooo!! or maybe he just... doesn't leave you alone anymore!! walks you everywhere, gets transferred into all of your classes, waits patiently in the waiting room of your workplace for your shift to end, and he outright pouts if you're opposed to letting him in when you shower (so mean!! how could you?? it'd be so romantic!)

you'd think that the sudden mass-change of schedule would make Kylar a little overwhelmed but... he seems fine. and not just fine, he's overjoyed! you aren't pushing him away, and you want him to be with you 24/7???!! kylar loves it.

more ramblings under the cut!! (gen!nsfw...)

- well, kylar stops smelling like pepper spray as much... he'd still give you some charges though, just incase he can't be with you for any reason at all. poor baby is very paranoid that he won't be with you for 2 minutes and someone will attack you within that time.

- he never outright says it but... no!! you don't have to repay him with money or anything!! he loves you!! but... if you were to offer him sexual favours he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off of you.

- definitely pets and croons at you while his cock is in your mouth - his fingers tangle so sweetly through your hair - and his hips buck against your suckling mouth from the overwhelming pleasure... yeah... you'll be fucking a lot more often with Kylar as your guard dog, hope you have good leg muscles!!

- still gets jelly (sorry its just how he is!) - but more often than not it just leads to you getting a rough, messy fuck at school so he can stake his claim on his spouse.

- definitely coaxes you into wearing something of his while you're together, just to really emphasise that you're a couple.

- sigh this hc could be sososo soft and Kylar would be the sweetest little bodyguard for you! but ...kylar does get a little fucked up from it bc you're enabling him. (we all do it don't be ashamed)

- pulls his knife more often over increasingly less invasive things - i like to think that maybe one other l/i sat too close and... he doesn't get the chance to stab them but you scold him after and he gets all pouty and cute.

- how come it's okay that he can threaten disgusting strangers but not whitney?! hmph.

- but it's basically this scene every single day:

- also also, kylar definitely gets this entitled mood about them when it comes to your attention. what do you mean you want to spend the afternoon with Robin?? you don't want him with you...? but- how else can he keep you safe? what if Robin tries to touch you and he's not there to save you??

- intentionally makes you paranoid so you never, ever think of leaving the house without your sweet little body guard!!