#and part of that's definitely how in the first half their meetings are more scattered before interacting a whole lot more in tarujama

[lemonade-juley]

Intitally struck me odd that the 3-note relationship indicator popped up over the Protagonists head from the simple act of Venam giving them a soda (unless of course it was a visual bug, been having a few of those, and in that case this whole post is moot). Because well, generally the relationship icons doesn't appear for your character, just the other characters in response to your actions/words.

Then I kinda realized there aren't really many moments where other characters just kind of regard you casually. Most cutscenes, other characters frequently tend to mention how strong the protagonist is, or how helpful or heroic they've been. Definitely there's been moments of genuine concern of course, especially after Nancy's death with everyone being worried, and later on Melia asking and making sure they're okay, but generally any conversation that directly mentions or includes the protagonist tend to lean more towards their capabilities then them as a person (alas the downsides of being a silent protagonist sometimes)

So I guess in the eyes of the protagonist, not the player, they're touched they were considered outside of their heroism or strength. And on that note, Venam is also probably the character who you interact casually with the most with surprisingly (Aelita gets pretty close or the same though, since there's a solid period of the game where the two of you are traveling together). Ya know just kind of hanging out or eating food and whatnot and at least having some time NOT directly worrying about Team Xen or Psychic Nukes or hostage situations and whatnot

[winterchimez]

Read Your Mind | Lee Hyunjae

SUMMARY: both you and Hyunjae had a mutual agreement to begin this whole friends-with-benefits relationship from the start, but now his contradicting actions and behaviour make you question what you both truly are at this point.

PAIRING: fwb Hyunjae x f!reader

GENRE: angst, suggestive

WARNINGS: kissing, making-out, arguments, unrequited love (like the first ⅔ of the fic, but there's a happy ending folks 🥹), mentions of s*x

WORD COUNT: 3,661

A/N: i've been jamming to sabrina carpenter's read your mind lately, hence this fic was born! special shout-out to my fellow sabrina enthusiast @heemingyu for hyping me up throughout the process & reading it through for me as well 😭🫶🏻

update!! this is now part of emails i can't send fwd: series (collab with @heemingyu) ✨

You slammed your laptop down shut as soon as you saw that the clock on the wall struck at half-two. Not wasting any time, you quickly packed all your belongings into your backpack and left the lecture hall immediately. 

Oh, how you’ve always dreaded long lectures like today, which lasted for approximately three hours since your lecturer insisted on finishing up the modulus before letting you off for the long weekend ahead. 

As you made your way out of the hall, you were immediately joined by your group of friends, who were quickly catching up with you, telling you how there’s this new Korean BBQ restaurant in town and how you guys must try it since there’s a limited promotion going on there. It was a Friday night—of course, you had to agree. 

That was until your phone from your back pocket buzzed. 

You took out your mobile and quickly scanned through the notification that just popped up on your screen. 

🎁: Hey, meet me at my place tonight at 8pm? The usual.

A long exasperated sigh left your lips as soon as you saw that message since you knew what it exactly meant.

And how you have been doing it constantly for the past 6 months without anyone besides you two knowing about this whole deal. 

Your friends clearly noticed how quickly your facial expressions shifted and began asking if something was the matter. As usual, you brushed them off and told them how your family issues had come up again and that you wouldn’t be able to join them for the night.

Using your usual pouting facial expression to convince your friends that you’ll definitely make it for the next one, you hope that it will indirectly tell them how you feel sorry about it and stop making them pressure you with more questions. 

Waving them goodbye, you turn your heel in the opposite direction, making your way to the destination that your so-called friend has been expecting you to be.

Closing your eyes, you took in a deep breath before you eventually mustered up the courage to head to where you had to be. 

Here we go again.

You were now on his lap, straddling his waist while his grip tightened around you. Both of you were having a steamy makeout session, lips exploring each other’s like there was no tomorrow, while both of your hands began touching one another, which increased the arousal that you both were feeling at that moment.

Finally, after a while, he gives you a little moment to have a breather while he travels down to your neck and begins leaving a trail of kisses all the way down to your collarbone. Once he got there, he began sucking it a little too hard, one that you knew would definitely leave a hickey behind, and you’ll definitely need to use your handy-dandy concealer to cover them up the next day. 

His hands begin travelling up to your chest, where he begins squeezing one of your breasts, which is where he gets an elicit moan in return, turning him on for the next move he is about to pull. 

“Can I… take your clothes off, Y/N?” 

“Go ahead, Jae.” 

The next thing that happened was that both of your clothes were scattered throughout the floor, and you were now lying in bed with Hyunjae hovering over you. Both of your lips are now reconnected, tongues intertwining with one another, leaving no room for a breather. 

Just as you thought things would get a little spicier, the male suddenly stopped in his tracks. 

“No.” 

“Hyunjae? Is everything alright?”

“No. I’m sorry, Y/N. I can’t do this anymore.” 

Hyunjae then gets up and sits on the bed, and you follow by sitting up next to him. Gently placing a hand on his shoulder, you looked at him with the look of concern and sincerity in your eyes. 

“Care to share about what’s going through your mind?” 

Hyunjae sighed deeply before furrowing his eyebrows as he stared off into the ceiling. “I’m not sure, Y/N. I know we both agreed on this from the start. But lately, I just don’t feel like this was the same as before.” 

It was true. You both began this whole friends-with-benefits situation because Hyunjae had recently broken off with his ex, and he was feeling slightly lonely. Both of you were only coursemates and nothing else. Eventually, you both got close with one another when you were assigned to be lab partners in one of the subjects within the course.

You noticed how Hyunjae wasn’t as goofy and bright as he was previously, and you decided to check up on him and asked if anything was the matter and if you could at least extend a helping hand to him. Initially, he was reluctant to tell you the truth. After a period of time, he made the deal and spat out what had been bothering him for so long.

Making it clear that he was heartbroken and needed a company, you somehow convinced him that you could do that if he desperately needed them. Though both of you had made it clear to one another that he would not envision you as his ex whenever you did the deed, he merely needed company to satisfy his sexual desires. Adding to the fact that neither of you would fall for each other. You were more than happy to do that so long as you both did not break each other’s boundaries. 

Things started out fine in the beginning, and he started to feel better and presentable at lectures, which made it seem like everything was working out fine. In return, you got to expand your knowledge on romance since you have never had a partner in the past 22 years of your life. In other words, it was kind of a win-win situation for both parties. 

However, you have begun to notice how things have changed from all of your recent makeouts with the male himself. There was this awkward tension in the air, contradicting what you both had agreed on beforehand. There are multiple times—like tonight when Hyunjae suddenly breaks off the kiss and tells you both how you guys are done for the day.

Something was bothering him, and neither of you knew what it was all about because the male himself did not understand his emotions. 

Every time this happened, he felt guilty about it and constantly apologised for everything that had happened. 

But tonight, something was different. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. But I think I really need some time alone to myself.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’ll just go to bed-” 

“I’ll walk you home, at least.” 

Oh. 

This was the first time Hyunjae asked you to give him space. Usually—even during the recent not-so-good makeout sessions, he would always insist that you stay for the night, reassuring you that his flat is way safer than going back home with the dimly lit streets at night. 

But this? It was something you had least expected to happen, though you didn’t question the male as you could tell it wasn’t the right timing to do so. 

Instead, you just nodded and quickly packed away your stuff before the both of you were ready to head out towards the front door.

The entire walk back to your flat didn’t take that long—it was about a five minute walk, to be exact. But what made this whole short-distance road feel like an eternity was how neither of you spoke a word throughout the whole journey. You could tell Hyunjae wasn’t in his right mind, his face was pale. Hence, you decided to just wrap your arms around yourself and walked close by next to him, respecting the peace and silence for now. 

As you reached your flat, Hyunjae didn’t say much and rather just muttered a simple “goodnight” before he smiled weakly and turned his heel back towards the direction of his residence. 

Whatever happened tonight, you knew that something had changed between the both of your relationships. 

This went on for an entire week. Ever since that fateful day, you’ve noticed how Hyunjae slowly returned to his previous self, where he always seemed so lonely and gloomy. He was quiet for a few days, but the usual message came in, and you find yourself back at his flat two days later.

However, it ended up the same way as it did, pausing suddenly when you both got down to the climax and decided to call it quits before walking back home once again. 

The cycle then continued. He would tell you that he needed to be alone and work on his thoughts for some time before eventually typing down the usual that would keep you busy and occupied with him throughout the night. You would return to him every time, knowing how you’d be left feeling confused and unsatisfied with the entire ordeal.

Yet, your heart yearns for the man, and you’re always hoping that you’ll at least be able to ease his pain and loneliness, even in the slightest bit. 

But tonight is when you decided that enough was enough and would confront him about it. What exactly was bothering him? Or rather, if he was actually getting bored of your company.

You needed to know. 

“Hyunjae, I’m here to talk.” 

When you replied to the male with your usual messages, being the gentleman he was, Hyunjae welcomed you immediately at the front door when you arrived. The usual deal would be that the two of you would get straight down to business without having much say, to begin with. Tonight was when you decided that this would not work out, and you both have to come to terms with one another before things go straight downhill. 

He looked at you with a surprised look, where you could tell that he was definitely taken aback since you were usually the quiet one and would let the male take control of everything. A deep sigh left his mouth, and he invited you into his living room, where you both sat on the couch, distancing ever so slightly from one another. 

You hesitated for a moment before you decided that it was the right time to put together the right words to ask the male what exactly had been going through his mind for the past weeks. 

“What exactly am I to you at this point?” 

It seemed as if the male knew that the day would come when he would eventually have to face the question he had been avoiding for so long. In the beginning, he has always seen you as a good friend who would understand his point of view of where he was coming from and how he deeply appreciated the help you were willing to give him.

But lately, he has been having second thoughts and has begun questioning himself about what he truly felt about you.

Are the both of you still in this whole friends-with-benefits situation? Or even, are you both still good friends at this point? 

It took a minute or two for the male to speak up finally, and what he replied was something that had never once crossed your mind. 

“I fear that I might be crossing the line, Y/N.” 

“And why is that?”

“Honestly, I don’t even know myself.” 

This uncertainty back and forth has really started to get on your nerves, and the fact that you came here tonight to clear the air proved nothing at all. Hyunjae wasn’t sure of his emotions, yet you were desperate to know his point of view. 

Frustrated, you stood up from the couch and raised your voice slightly, facing the male to express your frustrations throughout the past week.

“Hyunjae, you keep telling me that you always needed some time alone, and yet you always want me back by the end of the day. If we’re not going to do this like how we have intentionally started with, then we’re both just wasting all of our time, really.” 

“Y/N, I thought that we could just be casual about all of this-”

“Casual?” You scoffed. “You never were my best friend to begin with. We are just lab partners, and I was merely concerned about your well-being, so I decided to help out a little.”

“And because I love you.” You choked. 

Hyunjae’s eyes widened upon that statement, and he was about to refute it until you managed to fire back again.

“Have you perhaps fallen in love with me?” 

Hyunjae? In love with you? That can’t be. Both of you agreed upon the rules at the start that all of this was merely helping one another out, and there was no room for falling in love with the other party at all. 

You knew that you had already broken the rule from the start, but it didn’t matter to you as long as you were aware that Hyunjae was getting all of the necessary help and support he needed. But with what Hyunjae has been going through lately, he knew that it was why he had begun to see you differently and how he could not touch and feel you like before. 

The question was if he was ready to move on from his ex. With your help, he should have gotten over it and begun to take things a lot easier, right?

If only your theory were right. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

That was enough to tell you that all of the efforts that you have put in over the past few months have gone down the drain that easily. 

You were getting teary-eyed, and you began stomping towards the front door, wanting to escape this suffocating environment that you were in. 

With one final sigh, you fired back at the male once more. “Why the fuss, Hyunjae? If you just say you wanna be mine?” 

Just as quickly as you opened the door, you were instantly gone. Tears begin pooling down your face as you take that long, dark, dimly light road back to the comforts of your flat.

Is it that hard to just admit you have feelings for me, Hyunjae? 

Back at Hyunjae’s flat—he was standing there still, fingers running through his hair in a frustrated manner as he took his phone and dialled the only number he knew who could knock in some sense of mind at this hour. 

“Sangyeon-hyung, I messed up real bad.”

You have never felt so dead over the next few weeks ever since that incident at Hyunjae’s flat. Neither of you has spoken a word to one another or even come close to having eye contact at all.

It was tough when you were both assigned lab partners for your chemistry subject and had to talk to your advisor to have your partner physically changed for the rest of the year. It was tough coming up with plausible reasons as to why you wanted him to be switched out with someone else—but ultimately, your request was approved. You were now paired with one of the girls from the class with whom you were not too familiar with, but that was fine by you so long as it wasn’t him. 

Obviously, your efforts did not go unnoticed, and the male eventually tried his best to reach out to you again. But every time you managed to get a slight glimpse of him walking your way, you have always done your best to keep yourself occupied or even walk away to avoid starting up a conversation with him. 

You even tried blocking him off of all of your social media and on your contacts list—he was already swarming you with calls or messages, trying to just talk to you or even apologise for what happened. But honestly, you were just not ready to hear whatever he would say to you, especially when you fell for the man before you started this whole friends-with-benefits relationship. 

I have been such a fool to think he would eventually love me back. 

It was a quiet afternoon when you decided to spend the rest of the day finishing your assignments before the final exams were due in about a week. The library has always been your comfort place to be on campus. Not only can you take a little breather from all the chaos on campus, but you also could take a little nap in between, especially during times like this when you’ve always pulled an all-nighter and your sleep schedule was all messed up. 

Standing up from your seat, you decided to walk down towards one of the halls to get some textbooks that would be helpful as your source of references for the current report you were typing on your computer. 

The peace wouldn’t last long, though, as you felt a presence behind you that you had avoided for the past month. The cologne was what gave his identity away, you would’ve recognised it immediately without a doubt because you used to spend the nights with him all the time. 

You tried your best to ignore the male, constantly trying to fidget through the shelves until you finally grabbed enough materials to return to your table. 

That was until he decided to grab hold of your arm, and now you were left with no escape and choice but to come face-to-face with the person you have been avoiding at all cost. 

“You don’t have to say anything, Y/N. But please, at least, hear me out for a few minutes.” 

Taking in a deep sigh, you laid your head down and looked at your books before muttering to the male. 

“Five minutes.” 

He then lets go of your arms and straightens his back as he clears his throat to finally muster up the courage to tell you what has been trying his best to tell you over the missed calls and messages. 

“First of all, I’m an idiot. I messed up so bad, Y/N. I know I shouldn’t have done nor said what I did back then-”

“Cut to the chase, Hyunjae. I have no time to waste.” 

“Listen. I haven’t been able to look at you the same nor touch you the way I did before because… I am starting to care a lot about you, Y/N. I’m not talking this from a friends-with-benefits stance, but rather as a friend.” 

You scoffed. “So this is what it’s all about? Coming here to apologise and tell me you have changed? I have to laugh if that’s what it is, Hyunjae. Look, if you are sneaking up on me just to tell me that you need me back to do whatever shit that we used to do, then I’m sorry, but I’m done with that phase.” 

He now grips both of your shoulders, trying to knock some sense into you. “No, Y/N. I’m not seeking a sexual relationship with you anymore. I’ve been a jerk not to notice how, during this whole time, I have begun to care a lot about you because you mean more to me as a friend.” 

“And because I have fallen in love with you, Y/N.” 

No. 

No way, it can’t be. Hyunjae has made it clear how he only needed company back then, and he was nowhere near or wanting to begin a new relationship after how messed up his and his ex’s one was. You’ve got to be hearing things, maybe your lack of sleep lately was the key to this. 

“You don’t, Hyunjae. You don’t love me. I was just merely a company for you.” 

“That was before, Y/N. But not anymore.” 

He now takes a step closer to you as he pins you against the bookshelf. 

“And I’m going to make myself clear, miss Y/N. I can now confidently say that I am ready to start anew and begin this new chapter with you. The old Lee Hyunjae that you have known is now gone, and I am willing to spend the rest of my life with you as your boyfriend.” 

Tears began forming in your eyes, and you had to try so hard to fight back the tears and respond to the male. 

“I can’t read your mind, Hyunjae. One day, you told me you needed space and to be alone, and the next thing that happened, you came back to me saying you wanted me back. I do not enjoy this joke in the slightest bit, Hyunjae.” 

He notices how your tears are on the verge of streaming down the beautiful face he has longed to yearn for over the past month, and he now closes the gap between you two, lips now brushing against one another.

“Then let me prove it to you.” 

He shuts you up by placing his soft, gentle lips against yours, and with that, the tears that you have held back for so long begin pouring down like there’s no tomorrow. 

He rests one of his hands around your waist while the other seemingly rests on your right cheek, slowly catching each drop of tears as he wipes them away. 

Oh, how badly you have missed this—the familiar sensation, his cologne, presence, and the soft, luscious lips against yours. 

Both of you were kissing one another as if it was just like the first time you both had done it—tongues were now intertwined, and neither of you were planning to let go anytime soon. 

“Hyunjae—God—Don’t—Stop.” You said in between the kisses as you tried your best to catch your breath. 

“Never planned to do so, Y/N.” 

As he breaks off the kiss and travels down to your neck to nibble and leave a trail of kisses behind, he whispers into your ear before continuing the deed. 

“You may have fallen for me first, but I have fallen for you harder.”

masterlist

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[illuminatedquill]

Story Summary: It has been 10 years since Lothal was liberated from the Empire. As the annual memorial ceremony marking this historic event approaches, close friends and associates of the legendary Rebellion hero, Commander Ezra Bridger, are interviewed for a documentary being made to celebrate his life and achievements. Captain Garazeb Orrelios, a close friend and comrade of Ezra Bridger, has volunteered his time for the first interview.

First of a Five-Part Interview Series

The dive I find Captain Garazeb Orrelios, call-sign Specter-Four, is far from the Galactic Core and serves a peculiar type of clientele: current and former Republic fighter pilots, smugglers, Mandalorians, and any who find themselves wandering beyond the usual travelled routes of the galaxy. Sitting on a non-descript barren planet floating in the middle of an otherwise empty sector of space, the establishment has gained a remarkable reputation of being a "neutral place" among the people who live out here beyond the prying eyes of the New Republic. Mandalorians, bounty hunters, and even some of the more reputable smugglers all habit here semi-regularly.

Noting the name of the establishment before stepping inside from the arid heat, I am greeted by the murmur of quiet, friendly talk. The space inside is half-filled, scattered with an eclectic array of different species wearing the colors of their chosen affiliations.

I spot Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios waiting for me by the bar. Next to him is his partner, Aleksandr Kallus, an Imperial defector who once worked for the infamous Imperial Security Bureau. They wave me over to begin the interview.

Captain Orrelios; Agent Kallus. A pleasure and privilege to meet you both.

[Kallus nods in acknowledgement and sips at his drink. I get the sense he is studying me closely.]

Ah, don't mind him. Just old habits from the war. You can just call me 'Zeb', by the way. All my friends do.

If you don't mind, then I'll do just that.

Sounds great. So, you're here to talk about that goober, eh? About time he got a documentary. Deserves one, just like that Skywalker fellow everyone's talking about.

Goober? You mean Commander Ezra Bridger?

Oh, we're using the official title for him are we? He'd have a good laugh about that. 'Goober' is a nickname me and Sabine used for him. Cause he was a goober - it just fits, you know? Oh, he hated it at first but grew into it over time. Especially since Sabine used it so much. Said it made him feel special, when I asked him about why he didn't seem so bothered by it anymore. She didn't have nicknames for anyone else on the crew. That was always used just for Ezra . . .

[Kallus nudges him with an elbow. The Lasat shakes himself and looks embarrassed.]

Uh, you're not here to listen to all that, though. Sorry. Getting lost in old memories. I figure you want to hear the more interesting stuff.

No, this is perfect actually. This is definitely what I would want to hear in a documentary about Ezra Bridger.

Well . . . if, you're sure. Go on, ask me some questions then. You want to know how we first met?

I'd appreciate if you just wanted to talk more about Ezra himself. What kind of person was he?

[Zeb takes a moment to think about this. Then he points up towards the ceiling, where a row of various stormtrooper helmets - all different designs - hang from strings like grim trophies. With a small smile, the Lasat reaches up and taps one of them, a scout trooper variant.]

He was a thief. When we first met him; a street-rat that hit up the occasional unlucky Imperial patrol for food and supplies. Plucky little kid, if you can imagine, stealing from these Imps and bucket-heads. They would have shot him dead if they caught him - or worse, considering what he turned out to be.

I'm sure you've seen Sabine's mural on Lothal. How strong and serious he looks. Ezra was that, sure, but he was so much more also. If he ever comes back, I'm sure his head will swell just seeing how good she made him look.

He had a collection of these helmets when we took him on the Ghost. Sabine painted a few of them, as a gift. They were always his favorite. Over the years, as he grew up and the war continued, the collection stopped growing. Our enemies were multiplying . . . the goober needed to focus. So, I started to collect them for his sake.

[I observe the collection of helmets and note that there must over a dozen different variants hanging from the ceiling. Almost every type of stormtrooper design is present from the Empire's reign. Some of these would go for an astonishing number of credits on the black market.]

It's quite the collection. I'm sure Ezra would love seeing these.

Yeah. Took a bit to get all of these. He was just a kid, you know? I don't have any other input for this documentary, but I really want you to emphasize that Ezra Bridger was just this pipsqueak when he first joined. None of us knew what would happen to him, or what he would do. Not even Kanan.

He was just a kid who needed a home. So, we gave him that. I didn't always do right by him - to be fair, he was kind of annoying at times like most humans his age - but I hope . . . I hope he knows that I wouldn't change a thing about any of it. He was our kid. We loved him.

[Kallus pats the Lasat's shoulder affectionately. Zeb clears his throat, looks away for a moment to compose himself.]

I know you'll probably want to focus on the more heroic aspects of him, but that's how I remember Ezra. He was a goober. He was a kid. He and Sabine shouldn't have been fighting this war; sacrificing so much for it. That's the job for us adults. We're supposed to be making this galaxy a better place for them. Not the other way around.

A thief turned rebel. It's not an uncommon story for those who served in the Rebellion. The Specters were an already diverse group of individuals -

Not individuals. We were a family. Not in the literal or traditional sense, though. Sure, Kanan and Hera took on a more parental/mentor role in the group and, to some extent, you could view Ezra and Sabine as their kids. But it was also more than that. We were more than that.

We bled, suffered, sacrificed, and cared for each other. We cried for each other. And, yeah, we annoyed the kriffing stuffing out of each other. It was . . . in some ways, it was more fulfilling than my time as an honor guard.

How did Ezra fit into your group?

Heh, not easy at first. Hera was the only one who really made an effort at first. Kanan was still reluctant to take him on as a student, despite Ezra being gifted in the Force. Sabine - well, she's Sabine. Also didn't help that the goober had the galaxy's biggest crush on her during those early months.

Poor kid. Looking back on it now, I suppose I could have been nicer. He had to share a room with me, you know. I'm a huge snorer.

[He chuckles at this, sharing a look with Kallus. His partner just rolls his eyes and takes another sip of his drink.]

Yeah, it was rough for that first year. Everyone sort of eased into having him around as a permanent crew member after they had their own special moments with him.

Me and him - we stole a Tie Fighter one time, did you hear? That was a fun joyride. We were sent out to get meilooruns for Hera and . . . things sort of spiralled from there, heh.

When Hera and Kanan found out we were both sentenced to cleaning duties for a solid month. But that wasn't the event that really brought Ezra closer to the crew.

What was it then?

[Zeb takes a long sip of his drink, suddenly looking sad.]

Finding out about his parents. We didn't know . . . none of us know, until we caught up with Ryder - Governor Azadi Ryder, I should say - later on. They were still alive, incarcerated in a max-security Imperial prison somewhere.

After Ezra sent out his message to the sector, they must have heard him somehow. They rallied the other prisoners, started a riot. Ryder was stuck in there too; managed to escape because of their efforts.

Mira and Ephraim Bridger are listed as -

Still missing, I know. But they're dead. Ryder says he saw it happen, and we have no reason to disbelieve him. I know there was no record or recovery of their bodies. Believe me, we tried looking. Once the war ended, Hera and I tried to track down any lead to see if we could find anything - even just a scrap of their clothing for Ezra's memorial.

Nothing. They were lost, just like the countless others the Empire buried.

Just you and General Syndulla? What about Commander Wren?

She was . . . she was dealing with her own personal loss, at the time. We extended the invitation, but she never responded.

I thought the Specters were like a family? But records state that you all went your separate ways after the Battle of Lothal. You led your own squadron of pilots, while Hera Syndulla was promoted to the rank of General. Commander Wren -

Sabine was the only one to stay behind, yeah. We found a holo-recording, stashed away in his old comm-tower. Left there just for her. She changed after watching it. Hera and I never knew what he said to her.

Hera had Jacen not too long after that battle. I took Kallus back with me to La-Liresan, to help fortify their defenses, gather volunteers, and coordinate supplies with the Rebellion. And Sabine . . . well, she had her promise to Ezra to keep.

We lost Kanan and Ezra so quickly, one after the other. It just hurt too much for us to stick together after so much loss. We were all living reminders of what had been sacrificed. And staying on the Ghost - it felt too big, too empty without those two.

[The Lasat takes another big swig of his drink. Kallus glances at him, worried.]

I don't know how Sabine does it. Living there. She never went back home. She could have - but the crazy girl chose to stay. And she lost so much afterwards, too . . .

We all had our own things to focus on after the battle. The war had begun in earnest. The Rebellion had declared itself on a galactic stage after the Battle of Yavin. We were on the run, fighting for our lives, fighting to see another day.

Hera and I . . . we made the choice to move on. She had Jacen, alongside her duties as a Rebellion General. And I found new purpose with protecting my resurrected people on their new planet. We had to move on. Ezra would have wanted us to move on.

Do you remember the last conversation you had with him?

[Zeb seems to shrink within himself.]

I - I don't. I hate that I don't. I can't remember if we spoke before Kanan's death, or after. When Kanan died, everything else after that just turns to a blur.

You'll want to talk with Hera or Sabine, if you're looking for specific details about any of that before his . . . his disappearance.

Official New Republic record states that Ezra Bridger died during the Battle of Lothal. You believe otherwise?

[Kallus' gaze snaps to me, intense. I plow forward with my questions, trying not to show how unnerved I feel from the former ISB's agent scrutiny.]

I don't know. I want to believe, you know? But it's been so long. No one who has disappeared into the Unknown Regions has ever come back. Not even Thrawn came back. Wherever they went . . . there would have been a sign, I know it. Ezra's a smart kid, he would have figured out a way to send a signal or something.

Did he inform you of his plans before he left? Anything about where he planned to take Thrawn?

Ha! That was the whole point. Crazy goober. Part of me thinks he was making it up as he went along. But Ezra was a Jedi. A damn good one, too. Kanan would have been proud to see him at the end, leading the way for everyone.

To answer your question: no. Ezra didn't tell us anything about where he and the purrgils were heading off to. I don't think even he knows. Only the Force knows.

You never went looking for him?

[Zeb is silent, staring into his drink. Kallus watches his partner quietly. After a long moment, he stands up abruptly.]

I tried.

[Zeb turns and leaves through a back door leading into the kitchens. Kallus sees him go and then turns back to me.]

It's a sensitive subject for him, you have to understand. He wanted to look for Ezra.

Why didn't he? Ezra Bridger was his friend.

I forbade him. He was going to get himself killed. Zeb kept volunteering for missions farther and farther from the Galactic Core. Hera and I realized that he was scouting in the Outer Rim, looking for signs - any trace of Ezra Bridger or Grand Admiral Thrawn.

He got too reckless. People on his squadron almost died. After that, he was forced into retirement. Hera's intervention is the only reason he's not rotting away in a New Republic prison right now.

Zeb retired and settled out here? I don't understand. Why didn't he go back home?

[Kallus signs, takes another sip of his drink.]

He's still looking for Ezra, in his own way. Zeb had to get creative, you see. He had been stripped of his license to pilot. So, he found a plot of land on a planet no one was interested in and bought it with his pension. Pitched the idea of a bar for New Republic pilots flying patrol missions way out here as a place to rest and recharge; a chance to stretch their legs, after spending hours in a cramped cockpit.

Pilots who have been flying all over the Outer Rim. Who have probably seen and heard a few interesting things in the course of their duties.

Now you get it. He owns this bar, listens to all the folks who come in. Still looking for leads - anything he thinks could lead to Ezra.

He even named the bar in memory of him. I think he hopes that Ezra might wander through this sector in space someday, see the bar's name, and get curious. A fool's hope . . . but I dare not take it away from him.

But he can't follow up the leads himself, since he no longer can fly.

Correct. So, he sends the information to the one person who is still looking for Ezra Bridger.

Which is . . .

Sabine Wren.

[He pauses, thinking for a moment.]

Are you planning on interviewing her for this documentary?

Yes, of course. It wouldn't be complete without her. Why?

I advise caution. She was the most affected by Ezra Bridger's . . . absence. Time and further tragedies have not made her kind or open to company of any kind. Even from close friends.

[There's a yell from the kitchen. Zeb stumbles out, covered in soot.]

Kallus, the blasted caf maker is malfunctioning again! Help me out here, would you?

[Kallus sighs and rises from the bar. I take this as my cue to leave.]

Oh, by the way. I haven't heard anything regarding this documentary. It seems rather hush-hush for something like this. I've been asking around and no-one seems to know anything.

It's meant to be a surprise for the citizens of Lothal. The anniversary is coming up. My benefactor suggested it as a gift, to help commemorate Ezra Bridger's heroic sacrifice for the planet.

[He narrows his eyes at me.]

A surprise, hmmm? I'm sure. And who is this gracious benefactor supplying the funds for this project?

I'm sorry, I can't disclose that. They are a private person. I hope you understand.

[The former ISB agent stares me down. After a tense second, he relents.]

My apologies. Old habits die hard. If it's alright, could you send a copy to me and Zeb for review once all this is finished? It would be greatly appreciated.

I'll be sure to do that. Convey my sincere thanks to Zeb, if you can.

Of course. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to prevent my partner from burning this establishment down.

Leaving the way I come in, I turn around outside the old bar and take a quick picture, for my own record, of the name now that I know the origin behind it:

EZRA'S ROOST

END OF INTERVIEW 1

NEXT INTERVIEW: GENERAL HERA SYNDULLA

AFTER-REPORT

PRIVATE CONNECTION ESTABLISHED

The Benefactor: Were there any issues?

?????: None. Although the agent accompanying Orrelios seemed suspicious at times. I managed to prevent any further inquiries into my work, however.

The Benefactor: Kallus is intelligent and extremely competent at what he does. Do not underestimate him. It is likely he will continue investigating behind the scenes.

?????: Still unsure what it is you're looking for with these people. Seems like they don't have the information you're seeking. The Benefactor: That is for me to decide. Continue with your work.

?????: Of course. Logging out now.

CONNECTION TERMINATED

[mytheoristavenue]

You have me crying over your Unconventional fiction, it was so good!! Broke my heart 😭😭

I need a Pt. 3 where Leo is grieving over his lost love. April and Casey keep in touch with reader over the phone, but it's not the same of course.

Maybe someone convinces Leo to speak to reader over the phone?

Maybe after some time, reader gets to come back to New York (for college?) and reader and Leo get to reunite and try to work things out (maybe even start a relationship).

Thank you for the ask. This will be the final part to this series!

TMNT 12 Leonardo x Reader - Unconventional Pt. 3

Summary: Years have passed since you left for North Carolina, and you have mixed feelings about returning to New York for your first semester of college.

Warnings: More angst! A tiny bit of fluff too.

"I'm here," you sighed into your cell phone. "Yep. Getting off now." Just as you'd said, you carefully stepped off the train, the tile of the station slick beneath your feet. You struggled to haul your steam trunk off with you, but somehow managed. Scanning the crowd, you looked for your friend, the one you'd spoken to on the phone.

"(Y/N)!" a shrill voice called, as you spotted a ginger woman pushing passed irritated people, and darting towards you, a ravenette man being dragged behind her. "I can't believe you're really here!"

"April!" you shrieked, meeting her halfway and engulfing her in a much needed hug, before pulling her away and holding her at arms length. "God, I missed you guys so much." you beamed.

In the three years you'd been apart, your friendship with Casey and April had never once faltered. She always made a point to call you at least a few times a week, and he often texted you to check up on you, or sent you funny videos he found online. You had even managed to talk to the turtles on occasion. Your T-Phone had broken ages ago, but every once in a while, April would let Mikey or Donnie sit in on a call to say hello.

As you exited the subway, you chittered without friends about what had happened while you were away, and what the future had in store. Some how, the topic of living arrangements came up, and April was appalled to find that you hadn't secured an apartment yet. "What do you mean you haven't found a place yet?!"

You chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of your neck. "Well, I originally intended to move into the dorms, but they only allow payment by the semester and I don't have eight grand just laying around." you explained with a small smile. "I've got enough to put me up in a hotel for the night, I'll go house hunting tomorrow." you reassured, but obviously, this wasn't enough.

"Like hell!" she scolded. "How are going to waste your money on a hotel when not having enough money was the problem in the first place?"

"Well, what other choice do I have?" you shrugged. "I'll be fine, really."

"Absolutely not," she protested. "You're staying with me tonight." Before you had the chance to protest, she was already dragging you back down the steps into the subway system. As you walked, you began to become cautious of her intentions when she hung a sharp right that lead the three of you deeper into a seemingly defunct station.

"April, where are we going? I thought you lived on 31st?" you pondered, withdrawing your hand from hers as she lead.

"Not anymore, I moved out." she simply said, grabbing your hand again, before marching forward with even more vigor than before.

"Maybe this is a bad idea," Casey piped up from behind. "Babe, let's not do this. We could just stay with her in the hotel." Your head instantly snapped back to look at him, his features coated in uncertainty. If Casey Jones, the king of bad ideas, was unsure about this, than it was definitely not something you wanted to be apart of.

In the distance, you could hear chatter and background noise, and taking note of your surroundings, the color left your face. You spotted a broken skateboard, half submerged in sewage, and junk food wrappers scattered about. Even worse were the ruminants of deteriorating pizza boxes everywhere, becoming more numerous as you went further. It suddenly clicked for you where she was taking you, and Casey was right. This was a very bad idea.

"April, stop! I don't want to see them!" you vocalized, trying to tear yourself away from her. She finally let go and stopped, turning to look you in the eye.

"But they miss you, (Y/N)! They already know you're back in town, and they're just gonna come find you if you don't visit." she rationed.

You felt anger bubble in your chest as your fists balled themselves. "you told them I was coming back?! I specifically told you NOT to do that! April, how could you?"

The ginger rolled her eyes at your anger, clearly not understand her mistakes. "Are you really that mad?"

"Yes! I don't want to be here, April!" you shouted, huffing to turn back around and leave the way you'd come. You were born and raised in New York, surely you could find your way.

"(Y/N)?" you blood ran cold at the laid back voice that called out to you, knowing exactly who it was, and that there was no way you could leave now. Slowly, you pivoted on your heels with the fakest smile you could muster and wave back at him.

"Hey Mikey..."

-----

You were now sitting on that old familiar couch, crowded with ghosts from your past, having the absolute worst time. You felt sick, like you could vomit at any moment, without warning. Despite this, you continued to humor the turtles as they all rambled to you about what they'd been up to the last three years. There was nothing you wanted more than to leave again and never have any contact with these people again.

That was made ten fold when you noticed Leo standing in the doorway to the dojo, staring you down. Unbeknownst to you, he was feeling exactly how you were- nauseous and faint. Were couldn't been any words that anyone could string together to make him understand. Not how he felt, not why your were in his living room, nothing. Unwilling to deal with this at the moment, he turned away and went back into the dojo.

Apart of you felt an overwhelming grief watching him turn his back on your again, but the other part was so grateful. You could now go back to hating your current situation without the added pressure. Unluckily for you, it had already been decided that you'd sleep here, and you'd have much more torture to sit through as the night progessed.

-----

The lair laid quiet, all of it's inhabitants asleep, apart from you. You bustled around the living room, collecting your things and hasting tossing them into your trunk. Mentally, you went over a list of what you'd unpacked. Clothes, check. Wallet, check. Phone, check. With bated breath, you locked the final latch on your steamer and collapsed the handle, deciding to simply carry it and not risk the wheels making any noise. Finally, you were ready to make your escape.

"Leaving already?" a tired voice called from the kitchen, prompting you to freeze. How does this keep happening! Laughing nervously, you set the trunk down and turned to confront the person who'd caught you.

"N-No! Just going out for a snack-" you once again froze, that sick feeling bubbling back up in your throat, almost intense enough to make you visibly gag. "Leo?"

"It's just weird that you'd take your clothes with you to go get a snack. Especially at one in the morning." he chided, sipping from a glass of water and leaning against the countertop.

"Don't act like you care," you rolled your eyes. "Yes, I'm leaving. Just keep quiet about it, please."

"Were are we going?" he asked smugly, setting his drink down. "I don't know how many restaurants are open right now, but I bet we could find something."

You stared at him through glossy eyes, picking up your suitcase and marching up to the stairs. "That's enough, Leo. I really can't handle your shit talking right now. I just want to be away from you."

His brows furrowed, his hurt pride now becoming more important than his joy of seeing you again. "Go then. But don't say I didn't try."

You halted in your tracks, balled your fists and stomped back over to him, entirely snapped and no longer caring if you woke anyone up or not. "You didn't try, Leo! All you've ever done is hate me and bully me ever since I met you! The last time I saw you, you refused to even say goodbye, and then you never even called!" your chest heaved as tears began to flow freely from your eyes. "And then, after I was dragged here against my own will, when you saw that I was back, you didn't even bother to say anything! Don't you dare say you've tried!"

Leo stood in front of you, and for the first time he took the full force of your beratements, with nothing to say. When he finally did think of something, you didn't even give him the chance. "(Y/N), I-"

"Don't you '(Y/N)' me!" you sobbed, wiping fat tears off on the sleeve of your shirt. "I loved you, Leo! I don't know why, but I did, and all I ever wanted was for you to say one nice thing about me, but you can't even do that! You made it your mission to make my life here a live hell, and now that I'm back you expect to be able to go on midnight snack runs with me and have a cute little back and forth?!"

"Well, no-"

"Just stop." you finally said, hanging your head. "I never even intended for you guys to know I was coming back, because I didn't want to see you. Please, if you have any shred of respect for me, just let me go and don't tell anyone."

"Please don't go." he muttered desperately, catching your attention.

"Why does it matter to you?" you responded sadly, sniffling away the last few tears you had to offer.

"You're really unconventional in how you do things." he finally said quietly, and a bit shamefully.

"Leo, what does that even mean?" You questioned suspiciously, setting your trunk down to relieve your arm of it's weight.

"You said I can't say anything nice about you." he replied, in an almost annoyed tone.

"So that's your idea of a compliment?" you scoffed, shaking your head at him.

"I meant it in a good way." he clarified with a deep breath, refusing to let himself loose his cool again. "It's just something I admire about you."

"That's funny," you dismissed. "I didn't think you admired anything about me."

Guilt ate away at Leo as he continued to shift his gaze between you and the floor. "Look," he finally sighed, sitting down on the couch. "I wont make you stay. Please just here me out, and if you still wanna leave, I'll let you, no strings attached. I just have to get this off my chest."

You groaned, dropping your things and sitting down as well, as far from him as possible. "Whatever, just hurry up. Nothing you could say could change my mind."

With the inhalation of deep breath Leo turned to you, and for possibly the first time, he looked you in the eye. "I want you to know that above all else, I'm sorry." he began, deciding that putting any explanation before an apology would simply be inappropriate. "Secondly, I want you to know that I think I've done a lot of growing over the last few years and...there've been some bad habits I've had to work myself out of, and how I treated you was one of them."

"Cruelty doesn't count as a habit if it's only towards one person, Leo." you scoffed, dramatically rolling your eyes with arms crossed.

"I wouldn't necessarily call it cruelty, per say." he digressed. "But more how I process my feelings...and show affection." Your eyes widened a bit at his half confession.

"Are you really going to sit here and say you bullied me relentlessly over some stupid crush you didn't know how to express?" You spat, eyes narrowing venomously. "Because that's fucking pathetic."

"But it's the truth." he confirmed. "That doesn't make it any less wrong, though. I truly am so sorry, (Y/N). I don't expect forgiveness, but I wanted you to know that there was never a problem with you, it was all me."

You sat in silence for a moment, emotions a flurry of negative and positive. "Thank you for telling me this." you finally said calmly. "But I'd still like to stay somewhere else tonight. I don't feel comfortable here." Leo felt his heart break over you again, just as it bad many times before, and he hung his head low. "But you can walk me there, if you want."

-----

The trek across town was mostly quiet. there was so much to said, but it seemed no one had the right. Leo politely carried your trunk as you walked along side him to the closest budget in. He looked the place up and down while you booked a room in the lobby. He didn't like it at all. It was run down and shady, with barred windows siding, and tacky, dated furnishings. Though, he guessed he didn't have the right to complain if you felt safer here then in his home.

"Well, this is me," you sighed as you both strolled over to your door. "I booked this room for three days, that should give me plenty of time to find an apartment without- well, ya know." He nodded, humming in agreement.

"Well...I guess I'll let you sleep then." he muttered softly, turning to leave.

"Hey, uhm- Leo?" you called out, voice laced with uncertainty.

"Yeah?" he replied, a little too excitedly, turning back to you with a hopeful gleam in his eye.

"M-maybe we could get coffee together sometime this week? After I find a place and get settled in, I mean."

"Coffee...y-yeah. I'd like that, thanks."

Taglist:

@sunshinesdaydream @helpyaw @thelaundrybitch @momii @camillahorne26 @turtle-babe83 @fyreball66 @sharpwindow @roseygardenfan @witchofthenorthstar @pheradream15 @post-apocalyptic-daydream

[starksvinyls]

Title: The Sugar Effect (1/?) Rating: Teen+ Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Tony Stark Tags/Warnings: AU - Modern, AU - Bakery, AU - Coffee Shop, AU - No Powers, Slow Burn, Awkward Flirting, Flirting, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Additional Tags To Be Added Summary: While out in Brooklyn, Tony Stark stumbles upon a bakery, and a bakery owner, that he just can't seem to stay away from. Notes: for @buckybarnesbingo square K4 'au: bakery' and @tonystarkbingo square R4 'au: coffee shop'.

AO3 Link

Tony grumbled to himself as he trudged down the block. What sort of company held their meetings in Brooklyn, of all places? The manufacturing plant wasn’t here, and their head office certainly wasn’t here. Tony sent sent Friday a note to remind him to deny the company's offers for a merger and then shoved his phone in his inner jacket pocket just as the clouds overhead opened up. He cursed and tried to stay under storefront awnings, but it was no use, the rain coming down traveled with the slight wind whipping through the buildings, and Tony found that his Tom Ford suit was not made for the rain. 

Reaching for the handle on the first place he saw that served coffee, Tony pulled the door open and nearly sighed at the cinnamon scented warmth at seeped through his suit. A small bell had jingled over the door, and a man in long sleeves stepped out from the back. He was taller than Tony and his silky looking brown hair was pulled back into a bun. Pfft, hipsters. 

“Welcome to Wake and Bake, what can I getcha?” 

“Wake and Bake?” Tony raised an eyebrow and then glanced back at the door. Definitely hipsters. 

“It’s funny,” The man shrugged. “So, can I get ya anything?” 

“Coffee, hot.” Tony stepped towards the counter. 

The man nodded and turned his back to Tony as he prepared his drink. Taking the opportunity, Tony glanced around the shop; the walls were covered in shelves full of knickknacks, several mismatched overstuffed arm chairs were placed around low bookshelves and coffee tables. The walls, what little of them he could see through all the artwork hung up, were black. The floor looked like that industrial made light colored hard wood. Several pastry cases sat to his left, shelves half filled with delicious looking treats. There was no one else in the small store besides him and the employee. 

“Here ya go,” The man said as he placed the full cardboard cup on the counter. “Lids, sugar and what-not are over there.” He jerked his head, chin indicating which way as he his fingers tapped over an iPad. “Anything else?” 

“How about a chocolate muffin? My CEO will kill me if I come back empty handed after ducking out of a meeting.”

The man chuckled and stepped over to the case. He selected one and placed it into a paper bag. “Wouldn’t want that,” He placed the bag next to Tony’s coffee.

With nothing else to keep him, Tony tapped his card on the reader and gathered up his coffee and muffin. He dreaded going back out into the rain, so he tapped out an SOS to Happy while he doctored up his coffee. 

—-

He wasn’t specifically out to go to the bakery in Brooklyn, but once again Tony found himself in the borough and thought “why the hell not?” so he instructed Happy to stop on the way back to Manhattan. Tony hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the guy behind the counter. It had been awhile since a man caught his attention like that, it mostly being women - and then exclusively Pepper for awhile - for quite some years. But that stupid hipster man-bun had Made Tony wonder that deep brown hair would look like when let down, freshly washed and soft– damnit. Tony definitely had a thing for long hair, and he needed to stop thinking about it before the car came to a stop outside the shop. 

This time, there were a few people scattered around - a girl on a laptop with green hair and more metal in her face than was probably healthy, a guy reading a book, and a tiny man with a drawing pad and a pencil. The same guy was behind the counter, wiping part of it down, and he smiled as Tony walked up. 

“Duck out of another meeting?” 

Tony smirked. “Nah, but I figured I’d give this place another shot. CEO loved the muffin, by the way.” 

“Well, I appreciate it.” 

“You’re the owner?” Tony was a bit surprised, this guy definitely did not give off bakery owner vibes. 

“Owner, head baker, cleaning staff, and occasional accountant,” The man smiled. “I’m Bucky.” 

“Tony,” He glanced up at the menu board. “Let me have a latte this time.” 

—-

Bucky got to work, he didn’t know much about coffee - baking was his true specialty - but damn near everyone he talked to when he was trying to get Wake and Bake from an idea to an actual business told him it would be a good idea to serve coffee with the baked goods. So a couple brews of simple drip coffee, a latte, and a plain mocha made it’s way to the menu. Stuff Bucky could handle. 

He turned back to the man at the counter and placed the latte down. “Anything else?” 

The man studied the pastry case for a moment before his eyes lit up. “You have baklava?” 

Bucky smiled. “Ma’s family recipe.” 

“I’ll take two - no wait make it three - pieces.”

Bucky laughed as he bagged up the baklava, it was always nice when people appreciated his family recipes. Once Bucky placed the bag down, the man grabbed it and pulled out a piece to immediately try. 

The noise he mad as he bit into the crispy and gooey layers was almost pornographic, but Bucky ignored the way it made heat pool in his stomach and just chuckled. “Good?”  

“So good,” Tony quickly nodded. “In fact gimme a couple more pieces.” He said as he pulled out his wallet. 

—-

As soon as the door had finished shutting, Steve was out of his seat, headed for the counter. He had to pause as his vision swam and he swayed slightly, but then resumed his mission. 

“Bucky!” 

His best friend grinned over at him. “Another cookie?”

“You can not flirt with him!” Steve hissed. 

Bucky’s eyebrows notched down, furrowing. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?” 

“That is Tony Stark,” When there was no recognition in his friend’s expression, Steve huffed. “But ugly building in Manhattan? Takes up my view of an otherwise gorgeous skyline?” 

He ignored Bucky’s muttered “Oh, right.” and barreled on. 

“I know you like to flirt with the customers, get more tips, but you can not flirt with that one, Buck, he’s bad news!” 

Bucky just raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t know being nice to the customers was considered flirtin’, but I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Steve huffed, arms crossing over his chest. “Whatever, just give me another cookie.” 

[allmoshnobrain]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 02 of ? | masterpost

word count: 2966 | ao3 link

I glanced up and saw no hint of judgment in his eyes or voice. That was definitely a new thing to me. Ever since the incident on my birthday, it seemed like almost everyone around me had been treating me like a terrible person. But Dave seemed genuinely concerned, which was new to me. So far, I had only seen his laid-back side. It seems I wasn't the only one full of surprises.

✦ on this chapter: oc is cliff's cousin, +18, slice of life, drinking, smoking, cliff being cliff (overprotective older cousin), physical violence, implied alcoholism and drinking issues, dave mustaine x female!oc

“Hey, Nore. Wake up.” I woke up to Cliff gently shaking me.

“Hmmm... What time is it?” I grumbled, covering my eyes with the pillow. I opened my eyes, annoyed, when Cliff pulled the pillow from my hands. “Hey!”

“It's almost eleven. You slept so much that you didn't even wake up with the guys' mess last night.” he scoffed “I almost thought you were in a coma or something.”

I let out a big yawn and stretched, already feeling guilty for having slept so much, but knowing there was no way to avoid it. I was exhausted after the trip the day before, and honestly, I still didn't feel 100% rested.

“Hey, today is my first gig with the band.” Cliff remarked as I searched for some clean clothes in my bag.  “Wanna come and watch?”

“Sure. As long as you don't ban me from having a drink.” I stood up and turned to him, eyebrows raised. He let out an annoyed sigh.

“It's not a problem if you drink, Nore. Just don't go crazy with it.”

I shook my head, rolling my eyes.

“You enjoy your drinks too, Cliff. Don’t act like you’re the authority here to lecture me.”

“Whatever.” He furrowed his brow. “I'm hitting up the grocery store to grab something for lunch in like 15 minutes. Wanna tag along?”

“Sure, just let me change real quick.” I showed him the stack of clothes in my hand.

“Cool. Meet me in the living room when you’re ready and then we’ll go.” He said and headed out, closing the bedroom door behind him.

I quickly changed and stepped out of the room. I froze in disbelief at the chaotic sight that greeted me in the living room: a mess of beer bottles and cans scattered all over the floor, and Lars sprawled face down on the rug, passed out. I shot Cliff an accusing look as he strolled in from the kitchen, munching on a sandwich.

“And you're worried about me drinking?” I pointed to the mess. “Why don't you rein in your buddies?”

Cliff laughed.

“Hey, they're not you. Plus, you better get used to it. They drink like hell.”

I rolled my eyes and headed to the kitchen, where I spotted Dave crashed out at the table, head and arms slumped down, with a half-empty beer bottle in his hand. I opened the fridge — more beer inside and hardly any food.

“Guess I'll be having beer for breakfast.” I mumbled to myself.

“Wouldn't be a bad idea.” I heard a groggy voice chime in. I glanced up and caught Dave's smirk.

“Here.” Cliff shoved a sandwich, just like the one he was munching on, into my hand. “Let's bounce.”

“Where you guys headed?” Dave asked.

“Off to the market, to grab some food.” Cliff replied gruffly. “I bet Lars and James will wake up starving.”

“Count me in.” Dave said.

Cliff gave him a puzzled look, raising an eyebrow, but didn't say anything as he made his way to the living room. I followed along and took the chance to swing by the bathroom and brush my teeth. That's where I found James, fully dressed, snoozing in the bathtub with an empty beer bottle in hand. I couldn't help but wonder how wild things got while I was asleep. When I returned, only Cliff was in the living room.

“Where did Dave go?” I asked.

“Changing clothes. He was stinking.” Cliff grumbled.

“I heard that.” Dave grinned as he came down the stairs. I felt a blush creeping up my cheeks when I realized I had been staring at him — his smile was really beautiful.

Thank goodness Cliff couldn't read minds, or I would have to deal with him teasing me about that thought for the rest of the day.

We made our way to the car, and I hopped in the backseat while they claimed the front seats. We quickly arrived at the supermarket, the same one I’d gone to with James the day before. While Cliff parked the car, I headed to the food section, with Dave trailing behind me.

“So, where are you from?” he suddenly asked.

“Long Beach.” I replied, glancing at the products on the shelf. I picked up a few cans of tomato sauce before looking at him, who had leaned casually against the shelf, observing me. “And you? Are you from around here?”

“No, I'm from La Mesa.” he smiled “I didn't think you were from California. You have a beautiful accent.”

I was surprised that he had noticed the accent that had become barely noticeable over the years. I blinked, feeling a bit embarrassed by the compliment, but strangely happy about it.

“My grandparents are not from around here. My grandma is French, and my grandpa is from England... My mom is English too, and when I was a kid, we used to travel a lot. I guess that's why.”

“Seriously?” he raised an eyebrow  “I never thought Cliff had such a fancy cousin.”

I chuckled, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“Cool to know that, though. When we hit it big, you can be our tour guide for international gigs” he teased.

“That'd be a disaster.” Cliff chimed in. I glanced to the side and saw him standing there, arms crossed, observing our conversation. I could feel my cheeks warming up a bit. “She's so scatterbrained that you two would end up getting lost in no time.”

"It wouldn't be so bad." Dave grinned at me. I could feel my cheeks turning red, but Cliff didn't seem fazed at all. He gave Dave a cold glare before snatching the grocery basket from my hand and walking off. Dave chuckled. "Is he jealous of you?"

“No, he's just an overly protective idiot.” I scoffed, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“No worries. I won't push you into anything you don't wanna do.” He chuckled softly. I smiled.

“If I can score a couple of beers at the show tonight, that's good enough for me.”

I could see the excitement light up in his eyes when I mentioned the show, and my heart started racing. Oh my God, what was happening to me?

"So, you're going tonight?" he asked, and I nodded. "I already know this cool spot we can hit up afterward. There's a bar near the venue that I think you'll like."

"As long as they've got beer for me, it's all good." I chuckled. "What do you play?"

"Oh, I'm on guitar. James handles rhythm guitar and vocals, and Lars is on drums. And Cliff plays bass, but you already know that." he grinned.

"Oh, I've always wanted to learn guitar!" I exclaimed, getting excited. "But my mom made me take piano lessons."

"Piano?" he laughed, looking surprised. "You really are full of surprises. How did a girl like you end up living with us?"

I froze when I remembered why I was there. Well, that wasn't exactly a topic I was eager to dive back into because it hadn't been a pleasant experience. Dave must have sensed my hesitation because he instantly changed his demeanor. He stepped away from the shelf and placed his hand on my shoulder.

"Hey. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

I shook my head.

"It's just... I had some trouble with my family. And with alcohol."

"Was it really bad?" he asked. I glanced up and saw no hint of judgment in his eyes or voice. That was definitely a new thing to me. Ever since the incident on my birthday, it seemed like almost everyone around me had been treating me like a terrible person. But Dave seemed genuinely concerned, which was new to me. So far, I had only seen his laid-back side.

It seems I wasn't the only one full of surprises.

"It was really bad." I admitted in a low voice.

"Hey, you coming or what?" Cliff called out before Dave could answer, holding the basket full of groceries in his hand. "If I knew I was bringing you two just to have a chat, I would've left both of you back home."

I shot him a slightly irritated look for the interruption but followed him to the checkout counter.

Dave and I didn't exchange many words for the rest of the day. Cliff was always around, and everyone was caught up in the pre-show preparations. However, I found myself distracted, thinking more about our conversation than I cared to admit. Not only that, but also the way he smiled, his eyes, his face. I seriously need to get a grip, I scolded myself.

Later in the evening, as we were getting ready to go out, Cliff's girlfriend, Leanne, showed up. Cliff introduced me to her — a girl slightly taller than me, with dark wavy locks and olive skin. She was extremely kind, and we discovered we had a shared love for the same bands. She even offered me a place to crash at her house since she had a spare room. I politely declined, but I realized I had gained a friend.

Leanne and I were lucky enough to secure a spot by the stage where Cliff and the guys would be performing.The venue was small and expected to be crowded - and it definitely was. The atmosphere was buzzing with excitement as the crowd filled up. To my delight, we had a cooler nearby stocked with some refreshing beers. I wasted no time grabbing one as soon as we arrived.

The show didn't take long to start. I enthusiastically applauded as they took the stage. They kicked things off with a cover of Diamond Head and then transitioned into their own original songs. I was surprised and thrilled by their talent. By the second song, I was completely hooked, jumping and hollering along with the rest of the crowd. I couldn't believe how happy I felt in that moment — it had been ages since I felt this alive.

James and Dave took a breather while Cliff kicked off his bass solo, which I knew parts of since he had shown me a bit of it once. They went over to the cooler, sweaty, and grabbed some cans of beer and towels to wipe themselves off. Dave approached me with a smile, standing next to me to watch Cliff play.

"Hey," he said, handing me his beer can. "Mind finishing this for me? Gotta run back there."

I barely had time to crack a smile before he dashed back to the center of the stage, launching into another upbeat, fast-paced song. Their onstage energy was out of this world— I could just feel in my bones that they were destined for big things someday.

They played a few more songs and wrapped up the show. Time flew by, and I was buzzing with excitement the whole time. We headed backstage as the crowd dispersed. Cliff approached us, beaming with joy, more hyped than I had ever seen him since I arrived in San Francisco.

"Did you like it?" he asked me, grinning, while throwing his arm around Leanne's shoulders. She cracked open a cold beer and passed it to him.

"I fucking loved it!" I exclaimed, and he chuckled at my enthusiasm. "You rock so hard."

"Damn straight I do," he replied with a confident smirk.

"And you're not short on ego either," Leanne teased. He laughed it off.

"Want to grab a drink?" he asked her, then glanced at me with uncertainty. "You up for heading home?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Why would I want to do that? Seriously."

"Wanna join us for a drink, Nore?" Lars chimed in, approaching. He was all sweaty, but didn't seem tired at all. In fact, every time I saw him, he was bursting with energy.

"Absolutely," I responded, giving Cliff a daring look, but he didn't seem bothered. Lars grinned.

"Awesome! Hey, James, Dave!" he called out to the other side of the room. "Nore's coming with us."

I glanced over at them. James was busy chatting with some fans who had managed to sneak backstage, so he didn't seem to pay much attention, but Dave looked at us and flashed a smile as he approached.

"Did your dad let you come?" he asked, pointing at Cliff.

"He doesn't need to let me," I retorted, with a challenging tone and then said, teasingly: "If I feel like having a drink, I know where to find what I need."

"I highly doubt that," Cliff quipped with a touch of irony. "You've only just arrived in town, and you're such an airhead that you'd probably get lost without us."

Lars and Dave burst into laughter, and I playfully smacked Cliff's arm.

"You're such a buzzkill," I complained.

"You're such a child," he retorted.

"Stuck up."

"Idiot."

"Alright, enough of that, you two," Leanne laughed. "Come on, let’s get our drink on!"

We helped pack up the equipment and cram it into the van we came in. I ended up sandwiched between Leanne and James, his hair brushing against my face. We soon pulled up at a bar, where we managed to get in without showing ID. Dave bought a round of beers for everyone, and the drinking started.

I quickly realized that Cliff became way more tolerant of my drinking when he had a beer in his own hand. My vision quickly started to blur, and my face felt warm, but I didn't really care. Lars and Dave were laughing loudly about something, and there I was, staring at Dave again. Dave and his half-smile, Dave and his brown eyes, Dave and his cute nose. Damn, he was seriously attractive.

"He can't shut up about you," James remarked, leaning in next to me, beer in hand. "I can't stand hearing about it anymore."

"You find me that annoying?" I asked, a bit angry. Definitely the alcohol talking.

"Didn't say that. But it'd be easier if he just grew a pair and asked you out," he smirked. I blushed.

"Bet it's all talk."

"Wishing it was true?"

"Shut up."

"You get feisty when you drink. Is that why Cliff wanted to put a ban on you?"

"Shut up, James," I grumbled. "You're wasted."

"Look who's talking. And you didn't answer my question."

"Are you worried?" I teased. He flashed a mischievous grin.

"As if."

"Then I don't owe you an answer."

"What are you guys talking about?" Dave stumbled over, and I could tell just by looking at him that he was much more drunk than James and I together.

"James is pissing me off," I griped.

"Hey, I just said he can’t shut up about you" James retorted, chuckling. 

It happened so fast I could barely process it. All of a sudden, James was on the floor, howling in pain and rage, while Dave punched him, his face beet red.

"You didn't have to say shit!"

"Get the fuck off me, you moron!" James shoved him away. "What the fuck was that, you jerk?"

"Go fuck yourself! You didn't have to say shit!"

"What?" I asked confusedly. "Dave, what the..."

But they were already throwing punches at each other again. The bar owner rushed over, shouting something about calling the police, but they only ceased their fight when Cliff stood up, sighing "this shit again," grabbed both of them by the arms, and threw them to the ground.

"If you guys get arrested, I'm not posting bail for anyone, got it?" he asked, annoyed.

"Remember what we talked about, Dave," slurred Lars, followed by a hiccup. "If you're fighting, it’s a sign you've had too much to drink."

James and Dave stood up, furious. James had a split lip, and a trickle of blood stained his chin. He glared at Dave while Dave, visibly anxious and angry, approached me. He grabbed my arm, but without applying any force.

"What'd he say to you?"

"He didn't say anything, Dave," I replied, taken aback. "We were just talking."

"I'm serious, Nore."

"Hey. She already said it was nothing. Back off," Cliff intervened, shoving him away from me. "Nore, I'll call a taxi to take you home."

"What? Why?"

"The night is over, or do you think there's still a party vibe here? I'll handle this mess, but you need to go home."

"I'm going with her," Dave said.

"Like hell you are," Cliff grumbled. "You're going to help sort out the mess you started, you idiot. Come on, Nore."

Cliff took me over to a phone in the corner of the bar, dialing up a taxi to come and pick me up. He handed me the house key and some cash.

"Here’s for the taxi. Let's wait outside."

We stepped outside and waited in front of the bar. The night was cold, making me shiver and wrap my arms around myself. Cliff placed his leather jacket over my shoulders. It was oversized, but it helped keep me warm.

"Watch out for that guy, Nore," he blurted out. I looked at him, puzzled.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Dave. That fight just now had something to do with you, right? I don't know what's going on in his head, but be careful."

I scoffed.

"You're just imagining things," I said. He shrugged, not convinced.

Finally, the taxi pulled up; I said my goodbyes to Cliff and hopped in. I gazed out the window, watching the city pass by, feeling upset and confused as I tried to process what had just happened. When I got home, I rushed into the shower, letting the hot water sober me up. Once I was able to relax, I slipped into some comfortable clothes and collapsed onto Cliff's bed, where I fell asleep almost instantly.

[inkofamethyst]

February 10, 2023

UM.  GOOD NEWS KINDA?  NOT THE BEST NEWS EVER BUT STILL MAKES ME FEEL HAPPY?

First, the update on my Choice B was not at all what I was expecting it to be.  Not gonna say what it was necessarily bc it’s a lil gossipy uhm and also it’s not influencing the decision I made about that school a week ago.

Second, got the official acceptance from my Choice A (bottom choice/“safety”) which means I can officially reject their offer but like,,,,, that makes me feel kinda mean.  I don’t know for sure where I’m going but I know it ain’t gon be there.  Part of me wants to reject them right away, rip the band-aid off, so to speak, but idk another part of me wants to also write a lil note to the potential advisor being like “hey I appreciate your time and consideration but... idk but after assessing this offer it’s not for me” or something.  Something a little less impersonal than a rejection of their acceptance (which they may already see coming.. idk).

Third, the good news (kinda).  Had that chat with the potential advisor at my Choice E (that crazy good school that literally checks almost all of my boxes, more than any other program (but bc it’s so good I figured it was kind of a long shot for multiple reasons (as a result my parents and I decided early on that we would not tell my grandparents that I was even applying because it’s the only name they’d recognize instantly and they’d never let me live it down.  To my grandparents, I applied to six schools, not seven, and they will only learn of the seventh (Choice E) if I’m accepted and choose to go lol))) and... I mean he starts off the meeting by telling me that I’m his top candidate and that he really wants me to come work with him, and while acceptances have not yet been finalized, he’s fightin for me.  For me.  He said he’d read over my app multiple times (for all of January I felt like there were so many ways I could’ve improved it ha) and besides being impressed by the accomplishments (which to me seemed maybe only just slightly above average? an REU, a national conference poster, a few scattered research experiences, but no real publications, no research with matching methods, no senior thesis, no awards (partly bc I’ve gone all my life being nominated for awards without me doing anything, but at my giant school you have to nominate yourself for any and everything and ain’t nobody got time for that)), he said he really connected with my story.  And then he just sort of talks for an hour in a clear effort to both sell the program to me but also to show how proud he is of it and why he thinks it would be a good fit for me and my guy probably could’ve gone on for another half hour but I had another meeting immediately after and then he sent me a followup email asking if I’d be down to keep chatting.  And of course I say yes bc why not.  I feel desired by one of the top institutions in the world and the guy who I would be working with seems so down-to-earth and humble despite his position and wants to work and learn with me.  Forget about my Choice B, Choice E is The Place to Be.

And I know.  I am so thankful to be in a position where I already have multiple good offers in case this one doesn’t work out.  I know even making it to the final round is a huge accomplishment.  I know that there’s a possibility I may not get past this stage for reasons outside of my control.  I understand all of that and have tried to minimize my emotional investment, just in case.  But after today?  I definitely do feel even just a little bit more invested.  I’m so close.  This is not what I expected from that meeting at all.  Neither of today’s meetings went as expected.

Today I’m thankful for academic validation lol.  I’m thankful that I got to hang out with my photo-friend this evening.  Thankful for the really good comedy show we got to see tonight.  Literally the best comedy I’ve seen at this school since freshman year (maybe my photo-friend is a good luck charm for good comedy, because freshman year was the last time we went to see a comedy show together and I haven’t been satisfied by a comedy show since).  Thankful for women of color who look out for each other.

[edit, next morning: oh and apparently the guy who I had the weird interview with last week wrote a “glowing review” about our chat, so uh there’s that]

[edit 2, next evening: apparently I was supposed to have two interviews from Choice E, and the second person emailed me on a literal saturday morning but it’s not like I do anything particularly special on saturdays so I met with her a few hours after and it went well!  better than the other one lol (I think I just got antisocial academic vibes from that guy).  learned quite a bit about the program, so if I get in I feel like I’d just need to reach out to grad students to get the full picture.  Also btw I’m still runnin on a bit of a high from yesterday’s revelations :D  The urge to do a conciliatory Depop spree has subsided and in its place has quickly risen the urge to do a congratulatory Depop spree (which, tbh, getting a bunch of offers in a week deserves a bit more celebratory hoopla, I think.)]

[edit 3, an hour or so after edit 2: (at this point I should’ve just made a whole nother post for 2/11 but eh) I don’t really consider myself a person who thirsts after celebrities, I don’t watch fancams, uh, but The dvcree Pedro Pascal Edit is really well done and I kinda do love how it’s invaded my side of tiktok.  Haven’t seen The Mandalorian (not a Star Wars person), haven’t yet started The Last of Us (will in a few weeks I think), but I have seen Kingsmen 2 (and 1) and it was enjoyable (1 was really good).  k I’m done with this post I promise (also these “edits” fully could’ve been reblogs, but)]

[theblackphoenixwritings]

-Husbands- whispers and souls

That evening's meeting had ended early. Marius, he was relieved, much had already been addressed and discussed, but oftentimes, new questions were put to the Council, which had a duty and obligation to be present and ready to give support and help to any immortal who needed it. After a few parting words, Marius walked quietly back to his wing of the castle. He took his time, savoring the crisp early September air, the scents of the garden, which mingled with those coming from the halls open to it. A strange combination but not unpleasant. The lights were dimmed, and everything around, as Marius moved away from the council chamber, became warm and slowly silent. There was no reason for him to be in a hurry; Armand had said goodbye to him just a few hours earlier, heading to New York for some business that needed to be arranged by himself; he had promised that he would be back within two days. And if not, he would demand that Marius join him.

And Marius would have done it, if only for half an hour or less, he would have faced that flight determined and happy, so that he could be in Armand's arms. If only for a minute. He had promised to be a devoted husband. Those whispers between them had been the laces that had brought their souls together. Those thoughts had led him to the entrance of his bedrooms, and Marius was already savoring the smell of the pages of a beautiful book and the calm of the playful flames of his fireplace. Something caught his attention, however, and puzzled him a few steps from the door. There were muddy footprints going straight into his rooms, Marius followed them with his eyes, and noticed outside the door a pair of muddy sneakers, a brown leather duffel bag, and a light green jacket lined with white wool. Marius was puzzled; no one had told him that anyone was looking for him or that they were waiting for him in his rooms. An idea, however, began to make its way to him immediately, a definite idea. He was not sure, he had left, that distant island in the Pacific a few weeks earlier. There he had spent with his husbands, their honeymoon. And one of them had wanted to stay there, he had explained, that, he wanted to look for traces of their presence as blood drinkers, in the past of that place, after hearing the legends that the people told in the evening, in front of the fire on the beach. Upon entering the room, Marius noticed more discarded clothes on the floor, and several hardcover blocks, on his desk, that did not belong to him. There were also cameras, some very old, taking only black and white pictures. Marius, smiled, and this time the voice that came from the bed behind him was immensely welcome and enveloped him with love and familiarity:

" Hey Daddy how are you?!!!" Daniel lay on the bed watching him fanning himself with a polaroid, and many more were scattered around him on the bed. His passionate smile and shining purple eyes were a melody that resonated in Marius' heart like the oldest in the world, love. " Weren't you supposed to be back in at least a week?" asked Marius pretending surprise, "True…" murmured Daniel as his smile widened and he sat on the bed, pulling the red velvet blankets over his naked body. They stared at each other. Daniel reached out a hand toward Marius who took it to kiss, the ring on his finger caught the candlelight, and Daniel used the moment to pull Marius to himself, and hold him in his arms. Marius, did not object, and let their bodies join in that embrace, " I missed you so much." whispered Daniel against Marius' ear, who closed his eyes, caressing his skin, "You don't know how much I missed you…" said Marius.

Daniel laughed, resting his hands on Marius' shoulders and looking him in the eye, arching an eyebrow, " Let's say I have all these pictures to show you, and I have whole notebooks of notes to show you, " Daniel said, shaking the polaroids with one hand, " But I'd rather you look at me first, I know your devotion to history and know it, but, eh now you have your husband here asking you for that devotion." " As if I needed to ask for it…" said Marius resting a large hand on Daniel's face, who took the opportunity to kiss Marius on the lips and stare into his cobalt blue eyes, " God I missed you…" running out of words to express his joy Daniel, he laughed that sentence, which actually collected everything about the two of them. A hearty laugh erupted from Marius: " Let us see to it, husband."

[carolines-concrete-jungle]

Reflecting on Zoom University

Yesterday’s class on “Cities and COVID” made me reflect on my experience with pandemic schooling. I vividly remember the onset of COVID. Throughout the month of February 2020, there would repeatedly be COVID jokes thrown about, with any wintry cough eliciting a “maybe you have COVID!” At that point, we knew nothing about the virus or what the next few months would have in store. Leaving campus for Freshman spring break marked the first time I felt fully secure in my place at Penn. Acclimating during the fall was a little tough for me, and each time I had to leave home to return to Penn (after going home for the Jewish holidays, Fall break, Thanksgiving, etc) it felt as though I were starting over. However, by the time spring break rolled around, I felt very content. I had found a solid friend group, had just joined a sorority, and thought one week of rest was perfect, before coming back to campus for the exciting Spring ahead. I said goodbye to my friends, expecting to return right back to the Ashurst lounge one week later. When I found out that Harvard made the decision to cancel school for the remainder of the year, I was absolutely shocked. How could they possibly make such a big decision, so early on? Sure enough, our own email came just three days later, making the murmurings and rumors legitimized.

Freshman spring immediately got moved online. Instead of the fun college St. Patrick’s day I had been anticipating, I found myself sitting in my empty Quad room on March 17th, rapidly retrieving all of my belongings. It definitely felt strange to finish the semester online, but since I already knew my professors and the content, it was easier to pick up and finish the remaining few weeks. In contrast, I found sophomore year, where we were completely online, to be much more isolating and difficult. Not being able to meet my professors on the first day of class, form relationships, and get to understand their teaching styles made it much harder to connect and stay engaged throughout the semester. Just as Hess and Noguera expressed during “A Search for Common Ground,” I feel as though I was more focused on completing assignments than actually learning and retaining knowledge during the semesters of online school. Additionally, I found it very difficult to remain connected to peers, and carrying out group projects was nearly impossible, with teammates scattered across the globe – I literally had one group where one member was in LA and another in China. While reflecting, I think one of the most difficult parts was that each professor had different policies and implementations, which made it even harder to adapt to multiple styles of online learning and protocols, rather than one across the board. As Hess and Noguera said, schooling is about more than just content mastery; building social relations and finding mentors is just as important. However, during the semesters of completely virtual school, it was nearly impossible to have these peer-to-peer touchpoints, making everything feel that much more isolating and lonely.

Just as difficult as it was to adapt to online school, I then became worried about how I would be able to transition back to in-person learning. As difficult as it was to stay engaged during an hour and a half Zoom lecture, I also could not imagine going back to a classroom where I wouldn’t be able to just pick up my phone when I got bored or have all of my notes alongside me during an exam. And, transitioning back did indeed prove difficult. I had only had one full semester of college in-person, and found myself as a first semester Freshman once again, needing to remember how to participate in college lectures and how to operate the printers in Huntsman. Again, what made things even more difficult was the inconsistency in teachers’ approaches to returning to the classroom. Some professors continued giving asynchronous assignments, while others leaned fully into the in-person. Even now, a full two semesters removed from Zoom school, I am finding some professors hang on to some practices they picked up during Covid that they found to be more effective, like take home exams or virtual office hours.

At this point, I think it is safe to say that we are “on the other side” of COVID. Despite the difficulties of learning during the pandemic, there were also some merits to virtual instruction, some of which have stuck around even as we have returned to in-person. I am curious, as we move further and further beyond our days on Zoom, which practices will continue to stick, and which will slowly evolve back to the “pre-pandemic normal.”

[content-creator-for-business]

Tips And Tricks On Creating Highly-Shareable Social Media Content!

Churning out unique and engaging content regularly for social media is not a piece of cake, even for the best of creators. The process can go out of proportion if you are not disciplined. Social media presence is an inevitable part of businesses because it enhances findability. Such platforms help brands garner loyal followers, boost engagement, and showcase social proof. 

Why do you need a social media content strategy?

Before creating content for social media, one must have a definite plan. A well-thought-out content creation strategy will save you time and help avoid confusion. A brand must attract new customers, add more followers, and accelerate conversion rates. 

In simple terms, a social media content strategy takes content you create in the right direction with the perfect platform and provides the performance metrics to measure the success of the posts. It also acts as a roadmap that sketches out how well your social media presence complements your marketing efforts to meet KPIs and goals. 

I will discuss the building blocks of a perfect social media content strategy in the below sections.

Finding the target audience

Your target audience on social media is not always your potential customers. Even though more than half the world's population uses social media for various purposes, you may not find your target audience on a single social media platform. They could be scattered across various platforms. 

Use these critical insights to create a robust social media marketing strategy, find where your target audiences are, and understand their behaviours. Upon completing that task, circulate your content so that they reach where your audience engages the most. Leveraging the services of an experienced social media marketing agency will provide you with the right orientation for finding your target audience.

Creating content for social media 

What type of content suits social media the most? You can create various content types that differ from the usual copywriting and imagery-begin curating content you would publish. When structuring your content strategy, ensure you segment your content based on their affinity for selection. In your content, you can include texts, photos, infographics, quotes, videos, user-generated content, and more. Brands without many in-house writing resources may utilize the expertise of social media content writers to create exceptional content. 

Discovering the top platforms for social media content creation 

After identifying your target audience and fixing the type of content to create, move on to finding the perfect social platform where you wish to publish. For that, spot 2-3 social media platforms where your target audience engages more frequently and publish consistently. Ensure you curate unique content for each platform because each has its distribution patterns and algorithms. 

One thing that confuses most businesses is the choice of social media to reach their goals. There is no definite answer because each platform has its specialities and uniqueness. For instance, if your brand aims to up your user volume, there is no better choice than Facebook. Similarly, LinkedIn is the favourite online space for B2B businesses, while Instagram and TikTok house most of the younger generation. Yet, there are social media platforms like YouTube and Pinterest with the potential to benefit nearly every company. Their framework helps you carry out SaaS content marketing, brand advocacy, and PR strategy.

Defining performance metrics

Piling content on social media does not give you the desired results. For your audience to engage with your content, you must first define the metrics that matter the most. The chosen metrics will let you measure the success of your social media activities relative to your business objectives. Once you complete your social media campaigns, you will get a clear picture of how your social media posts perform and the changes you need to make to improve response and engagement. Analytics monitoring is an in-built feature of most social platforms. 

Curating social media content that performs well

The definition of effective social media content varies for everyone. For some, a compelling social media is the one that sparks positive emotions when created around a cause or mission, and for others, it is the one that gives maximum conversion. High-performing social media content encourages engagement and prompts readers to take action, such as likes, shares, etc. That said, social media content must be timely, emotional, relevant, and authoritative. 

Social media presence gives a two-way opportunity for businesses to diffuse highly-shareable content to target audiences and engage with them in real time. Social media also gives your brand the golden opportunity to encourage audiences to make favourable purchase decisions through email subscriptions, landing page visits, etc. 

Good Luck!

[hanatagami]

nico x child of aphrodite!  GN! reader headcannons

how you caught his attention

part 1 of an ongoing series. maybe. just a quick little blurb

well it started with you meeting hazel!

when she first came to visit camp half blood, she caught your attention

as a child of Aphrodite you had an eye for beauty, and my gods was she pretty

unlike other campers, children of hades didn’t really frighten you so its safe to say you had no problem coming up and talking to her

of course she was really sweet! you guys got along almost immediately

you might have come on a little strong energy-wise, but she tried to match as best she could

though she did get reaaaaally embarrassed when you started bombarding her with compliments

such deep beautiful skin!

gorgeous golden eyes!

such lovely hair!

hazel was definitely a few shades darker during that conversation

but you were so earnest in your compliments, she could tell that you were just stating your thoughts as they came

of course Percy, Annabeth and the others weren't really shocked. this was almost a rite of passage for campers

it was really endearing the way you found beauty in everyone, there was no standard beauty in your eyes

she was a little shocked when you asked to do her makeup

not offer. asked

you just thought makeup would look incredible on her

with the sparkle you had in your eyes, she couldn’t say no

you told her you’d meet her at hades cabin tomorrow (the only reason it wasn’t that night is because she looked exhausted, though you were dying to do a face mask with her)

now when the time came around, nico wasn’t exactly t h r i l l e d

the last thing he wanted was an aphrodite kid in his cabin to bug him, when he just wanted to spend some time with his sister

he would usually leave, but hazel really wanted to spend time with him too

so he begrudingly watched as you sat hazel down in front of you, makeup scattered around in an organized mess

everything you said would go in one ear and out the other

explaining what the makeup would do, and how it was made

like why should he care if the makeup was vegan? why does he need to know what plants the demeter kids grew to help it get its color?

it wasn’t until hazel asked why you were doing in the hades cabin, that he really focused on your conversation.

“Well the Aphrodite cabin can get a little crowded, I figured you would be a little more comfortable here. The plus is I'm not getting other opinions shoved down my throat about what would look good on you!~” you said with a giggle

“But doesn’t the Hades cabin make you...uncomfortable?”

you were shocked to hear nico join the conversation so suddenly, enough so to look away from your forming masterpiece

“Mmm, not really, no. Lord Hades nor his kids have ever really made me uncomfortable.” You said as you turned back and continued your brush strokes on hazels face

if you were looking at his face, you’d of caught the surprise that flashed on his face for the brief second it was there

“I think Lord Hades kind of gets a bad rep, and some of it seems...undeserved? I guess?” You leaned back to look at the progress, before leaning to pick up a new cosmetic

“Though I’ve never really met the man, so what do I know. I just know from the myths, he doesn’t seem that bad. Well at least compared to some others that shall go unmentioned...”

Hazel let out a quiet chuckle as you softly applied a lipstick

As you let her face go, you asked “Well why don’t you guys tell me what he’s like, you’d know better then I would.”

Hazel talked about her brief experiences with Pluto, and the negative feelings she harbors for the curse she had due to her heritage.

Nico, who has spoken more to Hades, also chimed on the conversation a little. Starting off a little bitter, but ending a little sweet.

“Well I’d speak about my relationship with my mother, but there isn’t really one. I respect her and appreciate the gifts shes given me but we haven’t really talked.”

you tried to lighten the mood a little

“It’s funny, this is the most we’ve ever talked Nico.”

well you soured the mood, good going kid

“You never came up to talk to me.”

“You wouldn’t have let me talk to you if I tried.”

cue the silence

now the crickets

Even Hazel didn’t know how to break the silence.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to talk to you, you know.”

You turn to give him a knowing smile

“But with what you were going through, I think trying to offer you my companionship would of bugged you more then anything. Especially being an Aphrodite kid.”

Nico could not refute those worlds.

“That isn’t to shit on you or anything. It’s kind of just what I thought at the time, but I’d love to talk to you more if your willing.”

Nico didn’t say anything as you turned your attention back to his sister, giving what seemed to be the finishing touches

“and there!”

Hazel looked at the mirror you brought in wonder

“so this is the makeup of this generation...woah.” 

“You look incredible! As I thought, it brings out your natural features. It’s quite a look if I say so myself, what do you think Nico?”

He could only nod. He was still kind of takena back by the conversation, but he had to admit. It looked good.

“Well come on, lets show your boo!” you yell as you grab her hand, pulling her off the bed

she could only give a squeak as you pulled her out the door, leaving nico alone with his thoughts

you weren’t nearly as annoying as he thought you’d be

you were surprisingly honest, in a refereshing away

you weren’t afraid of his godly parent, which is a plus

maybe he’d try to talk to you more. but knowing you, you were gonna start talking to him regardless

[inklore]

slow tempered lovers.

headcanon premise: after agreeing with a sick katy to work her shift at the gallery she works at, you have an intense run in with one of the artists there. the two of you getting off on the wrong foot, until fate helps you get on the right one.

pairing: artist!shang-chi x (f)reader

warnings: very cheesy and humorous, oral, mentions of nude drawings, unprotected sex, body worship, praise, mentions of alcohol, time jumps, unedited!!!!! reminder: you are in control of your reading consumption so if you don’t vibe with any of the above please do not go on. 18+ only.

word count: 8k+, i’m sorry it’s so long besties omfg.

etc: this definitely starts out semi-slow burn, then picks up pace and gets more smutty by the end. the smut is a lot quicker though. but basically i just wanted to make a small hc series featuring autumnal vibes/things because helllooo it’s the best season. though this one is probably the least autumnal feeling than the others i have planned.

🍂 autumn hc series part one. 🍂

When you two first meet it’s more of an accident than anything. Living in the city was not for the weak and the hefty rent bill that always seemed to shock you each month those big bold numbers showed across your draining-very-quickly bank account. So finding a second job had been more of demand than a want. And finding one job in the city was hard enough, finding another had been even trickier. And just when you’re about to give up the search, pick up more hours at your current job and hope by some miracle you would either get a raise or land something big; your friend Katy calls in a fit of coughs and sniffles begging you to cover her can’t-be-missed art showing at the gallery she worked at. It taking about thirty minutes for her to convince you and then another thirty to teach you the bare minimum of art terms, if anyone should ask you about the artists being showed, and the promise to give you the salary for the night and to bring you your favorite pumpkin muffins from the bakery near her apartment.

And it would be the perfect payoff, the perfect deal, if it wasn’t for the fact that you forget everything once you arrive at the gallery. The names of the artists slipping from your mind, only finding reminders when you walk by the several art pieces on the walls. You finding yourself quickly avoiding too many pressing questions: ‘is the artist here tonight?’ ‘do you know what mediums they used?’ ‘how did you obtain such art?’. You coming up with a good system of saying “let me go check!” and scattering off into a group of people to hide your clueless shame. Or grabbing a glass of champagne from one of the carts and offering it to them, feening shock when you see no one has offered them one already, distracting with booze and fake sympathy.

Towards the end of the event you find yourself sat on one of the long cushioned benches, your name tag ripped off and hid away in hopes no one will know or assume you’re actually supposed to be running the event. Having ran out of excuses, answers, and interjections. A glass flute of champagne in your hand, pretending to be immersed in the art pieces in front of you; portraits of people drawn in dark charcoal, some full body, others close up expressing different emotions, another of a woman with bobbed hair with a scowl on her brows. The smudging of the medium incredibly detailed making each piece highlight what was trying to be shown.

“Mind if I sit?” You don’t reply outright, or turn to see where or who the voice is coming from, half afraid someone might have remembered you as supposed to be working here rather than loitering around and avoiding the guests. The other half being you were too engulfed in the art piece in front of you. Your mind coming up with several different questions as to who this woman could be and what grave emotion, or action could of led up to the hurt written on her face.

So you reply with a quick “sure” offhandedly, sip from your glass and continue to gaze at the photo in front of you. Paying no mind to the stranger who takes the inadvertent invitation and sits beside you. The two of you seeming to be transfixed on the artwork ahead of you, gazes stuck on the strokes of black and crinkle of the woman’s forehead, the sharp point of a weapon attached to a string that flows around her wrists and arm, the murky background that sets it.

The two of you keep that shared silence, that you are thankful for, for what feels like forever. Until the man besides you decides to speak again, “what do you think of this artists work?” He asks. The pin prick of anxiety poking at your spine and making you straighten your posture, tap your finger nervously on your glass. And when you turn to him you expect to see some very-important-art-personal written on a name plate and pinned to his shirt. But instead you’re met with a soft smile, a hint of a dimple trying to peak out from his cheeks. The man wearing business casual on top but black jeans on the bottom. The top two buttons of his white dress shirt undone giving you a full view of his throat and very top of his chest, a normal part of the human anatomy that shouldn’t make you lose your breath for a split second. Or have your eyes quickly snapping back to his ever growing smile that makes you feel even warmer.

It takes you a beat to answer him, remembering that you only let your eyes roam on him to find a name plate, or some sign that you had in fact been caught as not knowing shit about art. Which: he held no evidence of being on the hunt to find such a person. “It’s. . .” You start, turning back towards the work, your head slightly tilted to the side. “Very emotional. Like, the artist was trying to convey a certain emotion but got lost in the chaos of it.”

“Hmm.” The stranger also turning to look at the artwork in question, “chaos.” He mumbles lowly. You wouldn’t of heard it if the two of you weren’t as close as you were. You just now noticing that there was only a few inches of room between his jean clad thigh and your naked one. “And what chaos has he gotten lost in?” His attention back on you, the same soft smile still lingering on his lips, making you smile in return.

“The kind that causes the artists emotions to be more on display than the model, or subject itself. He’s trying to show this woman holding these daggers, the look of hurt or grief on her face as if she’s just had to use them, or is going to use them. And that should be the main focus. But to me, personally, the main focus is how the charcoal patterns are erratic. The lines are messy and smudged and blotted and pressed that it looks like the artist was going through something more grieving than the woman was.”

The stranger doesn’t answer for a beat. You actually have to look back over to him to make sure he hadn’t up and walked away while you were looking between him and the photo. And when you look to him his face is no longer soft, something else has taken over his features. An expression that you can’t find surfacing on your brain, because the intense look he has in his eyes, the way he’s staring at you, it has your breath catching and words falling short. You almost think you’ve made him mad, or maybe over explained yourself. That maybe he was looking a short answer of ‘oh I think it’s cool’ or something, maybe he wasn’t into art either. Maybe he was just here because he had to be just like you. Whatever it was, the feelings bubbling in your belly had your whole body tightening in anticipation for when the tension would despise.

“Did I offend you?” You ask gently.

The man seems to come back to himself, chuckles, shakes his head. “No, no. Quite the opposite really.” He runs his fingers through his hair, barley tousling it out of place. “I’ve been to these things a million times, and each plays out the same when questions get thrown around. ‘Where do you get your inspiration from’ ‘who is she’ ‘how many have you actually sold’. And each time I give the same generic answer or get the same generic answer back when I turn the questions on them.” He’s looking back to you now, that warm feeling from his smile engulfing you once more. “But no one has ever given me an answer like yours though. Where they can see me through the work and not just the muse.”

You don’t know if you feel more embarrassed or shocked at the realization that washes over you when you process his words, and realize you had all but called the artist who made the artwork in front of you, who happened to be sitting next to you: chaotic. “Oh my god.” You quickly stood from the bench, running your hands down your black dress. Were you even allowed to give your honest opinions on the work here was that in Katy’s job description, no your job description for the night?? You were only there to help direct, hand out drinks and name tags and maybe spew out some pretentious vocabulary words when someone asked an important question about the flow of a paint brush. “I’m so sorry, I-should not have said-anything.” You stumble on your words. Ready to take off in the direction of your work station. Throw yourself back out into the wolves.

“Wait, no,” he laughs. “I didn’t mean for it to sound like you were insulting me, or my work.” He’s standing in front of you now, not in a ‘please listen to what I have to say’ creepy way. But more of a humorous, we are definitely getting off on the wrong foot kind of way. “I thought what you said was great, real, honest. Not everyone is honest about your work once they find out they are actually speaking to the artist who made it.”

“How do you know I was being honest? My employment here could very well mean I have a script I need to follow to keep the masses coming back for more.” You pointed out, hoped it would come off more ground-standing than humorous so you could walk away without feeling too worried you were going to get Katy fired for it.

A look of confusion plays across the mans face, he looks around for a beat as if searching for something or someone, “you work here? With Katy? I’ve never seen you before.”

Shit. It was up until now that neither you, or Katy apparently, took into consideration that people who came to the gallery showings often would recognize that Katy wasn’t here. Or that they had never once seen you putting in work here, or that you didn’t mention Katy once as to tell everyone where her whereabouts were and why you a commoner were in her place instead. Making the situation even more fishy. And your brain can’t quite comprehend all of these thoughts so instead of bidding the stranger a goodbye you quickly walk past him and, what you hope is, out of sight from him and to the back room where you can freak out and call Katy during said freak out in peace.

🍂

When you two meet again it’s ironically due to Katy, once again.

An impromptu dinner party, that was more or less five of you in Katy’s small apartment, random displays of food on every counter space available. Assortments of liquor adorning beside said food, music playing softly in the background, while Katy insisted you all gear up to play a shorter version of Monopoly, that you were sure she was stretching the truth about.

You hadn’t expected to see him there. Hadn’t expected to see him standing in the small kitchen space, cheese and crackers in hand. His expression seeming to perk up when he recognizes you. “Oh, hey.” He smiles politely. “I met you at the showing right?”

You can’t help the sigh that you release or the prickle of embarrassment that still clung to you from just thinking about the mishap. “Yeah, that’s me.” You grimace but he doesn’t seem to notice, as he laughs softly, cut off from saying his next words as Katy enters the small space, making her presence more than known.

“Ahh, so you two meet, again.” She gives you a little smirk as she looks between the two of you. “I heard you completely trashed on my boys art here, y/n.” Katy teases as she reaches for a can of beer, smirk still ever present as she watches you scowl at her and flounder with even more embarrassment. So they were friends, and really good ones it seemed. You wondered how you had never met him before. You had met all of Katy’s friends, at least you did, when you had time to be a social butterfly and not worry about keeping a roof over your head.

“I didn’t trash on it.” You state, assure, convince, whatever tone you were using to take the heat from your cheeks, and embarrassment rolling off of you. “I just simply gave a too honest review to the artist who I didn’t even know was an artist.”

“His name was below the artwork, how did you not know it was him?” Katy’s laughing now, as if the most obvious thing was hilarity gold to her.

“In her defense, I didn’t tell her my name.” He interjects, sends you a sweet smile, maybe laced with a bit of sympathy because he too knows you’re suffering at the sake of comedy right now.

“Oh, shit.” Katy shrugs, nods her head as if it all makes sense now. She opens the beer in her hand, takes a sip and then continues her thought. “Well, y/n this is Shaun, or Shang-chi, and vice versa.” She smiles as if this introduction fixes everything and you definitely should not still be feeling completely ridiculous about the events.

“it’s nice to meet you,” Shang-chi holds out his hand politely. You give him a chaste smile before shaking his hand and quickly going back into your defense stance; arms crossed, foot tapping anxiously. Hoping that now that introductions had been spoke that Katy and him would scatter from the kitchen and leave you to wallow in embarrassment alone.

But that does not in fact happen. Katy moving over to one of the food trays closest to you, quickly noticing that she forgot a very important condiment that pairs amazing with the cheese her mother told her was a dinner-party-must. “I can go get it. I’m sure the corner store has it,” You insist, not waiting in the kitchen long enough to hear an excuse as to why you shouldn’t or couldn’t go.

The excuse never comes though, Katy quickly apologizing and thanking you before she all but volunteers Shang-chi to accompany you. “It’s late, he can’t protect you.” She smirks, calling back to the two of you the, now two item, grocery list as she goes back into the living room. Everyone bidding the two of you a goodbye before you leave the apartment and step out into the cool Autumn air.

The two of you walk in silence until you almost forget that he is beside you. The only tell being the crunch of leaves under his shoes and the slight shivering breath you both take when the wind whips a little too hard. “Was that your first time working at a gallery the other night?” Shang-Chi asks. His hands in his jean pockets as he keeps up with your stride.

“Wasn’t it painfully obvious?” Your tone is laced with sarcasm that only seems to make him chuckle softly. You figured Katy had told him by now that you were covering for her, so the question is a bit surprising to you, as is his reaction.

“I don’t think you did too bad your first time.” He states, “Katy is oddly overzealous when she runs those things. Like a sports mom, but with art.” The two of you laugh, you envision Katy running around the gallery making super everything was perfect, everyone had a drink in hand, everyone knew which artist was who, or how to correctly say gouache. “I didn’t take why you said as offensive you know.” Shang-Chi breaks the short silence that had spread between the two of you once again. “I’ve had many bad reviews about my art, especially from those closest to me,” You glance over at him, see his facial expression mock humor with an eye roll at his own words. But a grimace of sadness slowly follows it, and the thought of asking him about it hangs in your mind. But deciding against when you bring yourself back to the reality that you two have only just met. He’s probably not one to air out super personal things with someone he’s met all but twice now.

“I knew you were being genuine. Honest, I meant that.” He gives you that same warm smile that suddenly makes it seem way warmer than it is outside. The little fire of embarrassment dwindle down into cinders at his reassuring words. He huffs out a breath and looks ahead, “it was just nice to hear.”

You smile towards the ground as the two of you continue your walk. “Well, I can unintentionally bash, while also complimenting your work, again sometime. I am looking for a second job after all.” This makes him laugh and the way his eyes light up and his cheeks seem more rosy from the cold air, makes your stomach do a little flutter. Laughing along with him as you try to not to notice your heart beating a little bit faster.

“I’ll be sure to only hire you as a critic from now on. The only opinion that I will take wholeheartedly.”

🍂

After that it’s as if you two can’t stop running into one another. You’re sure no thanks to Katy, as you seen realize that all the surprise meets coincidentally come to play with her having a hand in it.

Your favorite cafe shop, where you almost crumble your pumpkin muffin on Shang-Chi’s sweatshirt when you turn and he’s there getting in line. Him letting it be known that Katy suggested he try the muffins here, that it was the best cafe on the block. Which wasn’t wrong, but not even the woman herself would bother to trudge herself down here, knowing the line would be too long and by the time it was her turn to order the fresh muffins would be gone and the hard old ones would be served up. So you found it surprising she would suggest the place, especially since you were sure Shang-Chi didn’t live even remotely in the vicinity. And when he added “She said it was your favorite” his smile doing you in, making your grip your muffin a little tighter. The flutters in your stomach back from the last time you two were in each other’s presence.

The feeling only growing when you take pity on watching him wait inline for so long. You sitting at one of the many tables as you watch him. The two of you making contact here and there to smile at each other and laugh softly at how slow the line was moving. It all ending with you splitting half your muffin with him and him being wowed. His smile crinkling the skin by his eyes.

And it continues like that. Surprise meetings, Katy mentioning something to one of you to get you there. You both feening ignorance at to what she could possibly be up to. But finding the time to walk beside each other in the park, that you walked home from work through everyday, Katy telling Shang-Chi that it was the best park to go to for the perfect views to sketch. Or Katy telling you about this amazing takeout place, that just so happened to be close to Shang-Chi’s apartment, where he seemed to order from almost every night because he didn’t feel like cooking something for one; the two of you occupying a table together. The conversations flowing between the two do you casual and easy. His smile still making your stomach flutter in a mess.

It’s not until you are begged by Katy herself to go to a karaoke bar, her quickly mentioning “Shaun will be there”, sly and slick like it would be the icing to get you to eat the cake; you knew she was plotting against you, or for you. You weren’t too sure which latter it was yet. Or if you even liked the thought of which it could be.

And instead of letting yourself sit in your stuffy apartment and dwell on it, or stand in the mirror for another second debating on your outfit, convincing yourself it wasn’t because you wanted to look good for anyone, at all, ever. And then ignoring the anxious feelings once you meet at Katy’s apartment, Shang-Chi giving you his signature smile when he see’s your enter the room, walking beside you the entirety of the walk to the bar. Holding the door open for you, ordering you a drink. Asking you what your go to karaoke song was and if you needed help belting it out. You definitely were not letting yourself think of how any of that was making you feel. And you were definitely ignoring Katy’s smirks and subliminal eye messages from across the room.

“Let’s do Hotel California next!” Katy cheers, hands you and Shang-Chi another shot. Her cheeks already red and voice hoarse from drinking and singing to hard. The warmth from the liquor burning your stomach, your cheeks heating from the commotion of bodies in the confined space and effort to give your best Celine Dione.

“I actually have to head out soon.” Shang-Chi pipes up. It doesn’t stop him from downing the shot Katy handed him. Or standing up from the couch ready to sing along with Katy as she sets in the next song.

“Shaun,” Katy groans, turns to him and raises her hands in the air like she’s about to protest something big. “You are freelance and work on your own time, what possibly could you be doing that can’t start at noon tomorrow?”

“I’m trying to find inspiration. I can’t do that with a hangover.”

“I’m pretty sure you can. Just pop an Advil and wear some sunglasses.” The shorter of the two grins.

“Katy,” Shang-Chi laughs softly. “I’ve been wanting to work with more live models. I’m sure my bloodshot eyes and vodka coated morning breath will surely not lure them in.”

Katy makes a face, turns to the projector as Hotel California’s intro begins to play. “You are staying for this song and then I’ll let you go, deal?” The two shake hands in agreement, smile and hum softly as they wait for the lyrics. When she motions for you to join you do so without argument and stand beside Shang-Chi microphone in hand. “Wait,” Katy interjects just as the first line begins, turning towards the both of you. A look of pure genius twinkling in her eyes. “You want live models, y/n is looking for a second job, why don’t you have her model for you? I’m sure it’ll be cheaper and,” She gives a sly smile, “you’ll get to know each other better. Not to mention less worry about responsibility, and more time for karaoke.”

The two of you freeze. Your gazes meeting each other’s. Shang-Chi’s expression one of confusion; brows raised, head leaned to the side. While you just look between him and Katy nervously, your palm sweating and surely coating the microphone in a sheen of it. Part of you wanted to scowl at Katy, ask her what she thinks she was doing not only mentioning you needing a second job. The odd feeling of embarrassment at the declaration being the main cause of your sweat. The other was: the possibility of spending more time with Shang-Chi. Which. . .was not something that left a bad feeling in your marrow. Quite the opposite.

“I don’t think Im the modeling type.” You declare. Breaking the tense filled silence.

“All you have to do is stand there.” Katy shrugs, reassuring you as she begins to sing along to her appointed tune. “And Shaun is desperate,” She smiles. “He’s been looking for live models for a while, just don’t think he’s good enough to ask someone other than his sister.”

Shang-Chi grimaces, giving the woman a tight lipped smile. “Thanks for that.” Katy sends him a wink and continues to sing along. He looks to you and gives you a genuine, apologetic smile. Which you return with a shy one. Feeling almost jittery at the attention and prospect. “I wouldn’t be opposed.” He admits. “I have been wanting to up my real-time-emotions work, since this really heavy critic said I’m slacking on it.” You can’t help the laugh that leaves your lips at the clear jab at the reminder of your all to embarrassing first meeting, again, and the too honest review you shot him with. Your stomach doing a little flutter when he laughs along with you. The alcohol making the whole thing funnier than it truly was, but the warmth of it soothing your anxiousness when Shang-Chi confirms that he means, and would love to have you model for him if you wanted to, of course. No pressure.

You tell yourself it’s the mention of pay that really sets it in stone for you. Really makes your decision for you. Definitely not the way Shang-Chi’s face looks softer and eyes look brighter at the prospect. Or him sitting down beside you on the leather couch to talk over his ideas for his next project. Leaving Katy to sing by herself, not seeming phased at all as she makes a grand performance.

🍂

And when you arrive at Shang-Chi’s apartment the next day, checking your hair in the reflection of very store you pass along the way. The Autumn wind doing little to help. Standing outside of his door for at least three minutes before having the courage to knock on the door. His bright smile and the smell of pencil led and wood of his apartment, being the only things that ease your anxiety. The two of you still feening almost shyness as you go over poses and Shang-Chi reassuring you every step of the way at your ‘I have no idea what I’m doing’ declarations and sympathy.

His soft words and heat from his palm as he reaches over and places it atop of your hand perched on your knee, making your insides boil down to a heat filled simmer. “You’re going to do great. Really, once you’ve been sat in the same spot for hours I’m sure you’re going to regret even agreeing to this.” He chuckles, “so, please. Don’t be nervous.”

You laugh nervously, “just as long as you make me look good!” You jokingly warn as you move to the directed stool he has placed in the middle of his apartment, a white backdrop draped on the far wall. His hands coming up to move your arm here and hand here. His hand on your back to help straighten you making you want to lean into him more. Your nerves lighting up.

He stops in front of you, smiling down at you as he moves a piece of your hair to fall slightly in your face. “You already look good.” He says so cooly and velvety smooth that it has your breath catching. The look of appreciation and fondness written all over his face. You almost wonder if you imagined it.

And that’s how it goes for the next few weeks. You come over to his apartment when you’re not working. You sit in whatever position, and expressions, he puts you in: lying on the couch with a book in hand, leaning against a wall or the balcony of his apartment, perched on a stool looking up. Even sitting on the floor at his coffee table as you eat from a bowl of takeout Shang-Chi orders after your stomach obnoxiously growls during one of your sessions. Your cheeks heating with embarrassment, him looking up from his sketchbook smiling, wasting no time to grab his phone and order something without question or word. The two of you growing more comfortable in the shared space.

“Have you always used pencil, or charcoal?” You ask as you are sat on the couch, holding the pose Shang-Chi directed you in. You watching him look up to you, work his hands along the paper, rub his fingers along lines, shade here and there, for what seems like hours. The only sound being the friction of the medium against paper, the wind blowing fallen leaves outside of the window. And the soft music playing from a record player on the otherwise of the room.

“Yes.” He answers with a small grin. “I’ve tried various forms of paint before. Even tried my hand at sculpting, which was definitely not for me.” He chuckles to himself, as if remembering the inside memory. It makes you smile. “I love the mess. Of lead. Charcoal. Both of it-all of it.” He looks up from the sketch, eyes on you as he continues. “Love how it leaves smudges on my hands and the way it feels between my fingers. And, as weird as it sounds, the bitter smell it leaves behind.” 

You smile at him as you hear the genuine contentment in his voice as he speaks to you. His eyes never leaving yours as he lets you in on a little piece of him. Your stomach fluttering. “What does it feel like?” The question is probably childish, weird. But with the way he describes the medium it has you absent mindingly moving from your pose slightly as you try to pear over at the black object in his hands.

You expect for him to maybe laugh at you and confirm your question being dumb, but instead he motions for you to come sit beside him. Hands you the piece of Charcoal between his fingers once you are sat beside him. His sketchbook placed in your lap next. You look down at the fresh new page, the hard dark medium between your fingers. Running the pad of your finger along the smooth tip, the slight ridges in the side, a smudge of black leaving itself ever present on your skin. “It just feels like chalk.” You declare honestly and it makes him laugh.

“Here,” he moves closer to you. “Try this.” He places his hands upon yours, his grip light and soft. The medium flush against the paper as he moves his hand along with yours, moving the charcoal along the white of the sketchbook. Your heart slowly picking up speed. You let him completely have control of the functions in your hand. Moving your fingers out to smudge lines, run circles along the murky paper. The black deepening on your fingers and leaving evidence of him on your flesh as his one digits move along yours, in between, almost lacing your fingers together. Pressing the pad of them into the tops of yours. Soft. Smooth. Gentle.

You try to pay attention to the lines he is making with your hands. The swoops, the direction, the shading, the feel of the bitter smoothness of the medium and slight coarseness from the paper. But theirs a haze over your mind. A dull haze of nothing but Shang-Chi and how close he is to you right now. Your breath hitching to an almost halt from the proximity of him. The feel of him this close. The touch, press, and movement of his hand against yours. You can feel his shallow breath on you, beside your face. The warmth washing over you as his chest leans more into the side of you. And when his fingers move yours in that same circular motion as before it has your body heating up with something you don’t expect. Has your body almost going rigid and stiff as your mind switches gears completely to something more intimate and dirty. Your mind flashing images of the same circular motion his fingers are doing against yours somewhere else. Somewhere more private. Your thighs slowly moving closer together, your cheeks warming at not only the thought but the shyness of even thinking such things right now. This close to Shang-Chi.

And when he mumbles the words “Just like that,” softly against the shell of your ear your stomach drops and your breath stops all together. Your conscious seeming to bring you back to the present and really acknowledge the low burning ache you now feel below your belly. You can feel the tension in the room between the two of you, not sure if you caused it. If Shang-Chi has been feeling your shift, your body language and breath changing. The warmer feel of your skin on his. But when his hands stop, the two of you turning to look at each other, your faces close, so so close. Mouths inches away that it would only take one of you shifting just right for them to connect. His eyes looking almost as drunk with lust as you feel.

“I see why you like it. . .” Are the only words that you can dig up from your hormonal brain. The only thing that seems to bring reality crashing fully down onto the both of you. The moment of tension turning tides at your words. Shang-Chi chuckling softly as he stares at you for a beat, his signature smile and dimple making you regret even speaking. Half wishing you just leaned forward instead. Let your mouths do the talking in another way, it being painfully obvious you both having had wanted the same thing.

🍂

The next session you two have is outside. Shang-Chi suggesting the two of you, not only get some much needed natural light and air from his stuffy apartment, but to also help him work more on his background and setting sketch’s.

So the two of you end up at the park. The cloudy sky casting a dull grey light upon the yellow and brown scenery. You sit on a cold bench, leaves blowing across your boots. Your gaze set across the park as Shang-Chi sits beside you making light conversation as he sketch’s. You only looking over to him when you feel a fallen leaf make it’s home in your hair, Shang-Chi laughing softly as his fingers work gently to pick it out of your hair. The tips of his fingers making the slightest of touches against your cheek as he removes the golden leaf from your tendrils.

And with the way he is looking at you, you think maybe this is going to be the moment you’ve thought about since that night in his apartment; where you wanted more than to feel his mouth on yours. That maybe your mind will get a moment of peace once you finally feel his lips on yours. That you will no longer have to daydream about it, or let your mind and fingers wander at night under the sheets.

But the first drop of rain is what breaks the stare between you two; landing right atop of your forehead. The two of you both laughing and looking to the sky. The one stop being the only warning before heavy drops start to fall in rapid motion. Quickly soaking the two of you as you both scurry up from the bench, Shang-Chi grabbing your hand as the two of you make a run for it in the direction of his apartment. Your clothes sticking to you in an uncomfortable fashion once you finally reach his apartment building, rushing in and stopping at his door. You two leaning against the wall as you try to catch your breaths, looking over at one another; hair soaked, jackets weighed down by rain and mud. A fit of laughter breaking out between the two of you and your current state.

Once your laughter has died down and your breaths have been caught. The two of you relaxing into the silence of the hall and the loud clattering of the rain against the building. You look over at the still open page of his sketchbook in his hands, droplets of water all over the page, crinkling it at the corners, making the page brittle. The smudges of the charcoal nature made rather than from Shang-Chi’s fingers. “Your sketch,” you point out. A small frown on your face as a pang of sympathy runs through you.

Shang-Chi not having the same reaction to the ruined piece as you. His smile taking you by surprise. “It’s alright.” He looks back up to you, “it conveys the real muse,” he moves closer to you, invading your space so there’s no room left but him. Him pressed flush against your front. His hand coming up to rest itself on the side of your cheek. “Soaked from the rain, but still breathtaking.” His words are soft and cut off as his lips meet yours in a passionate kiss. Your body letting out a sigh of relief at finally feeling his lips. Finally having his hands in your hair pulling your closer to him. Your hands all over him, even if the wetness from his clothes only dampens your hands more no matter where you touch. It’s as if your body and nerves had been craving to be touched, felt, seen by this man. That your mind could not keep up, it only realizing your attraction to Shang-Chi just days ago, your body having had known long before; it leaning in, keening, mewling at his touch.

The two of you waste no time in pushing through the door of his apartment, trying to shed the wet clothes of your body in a haste. The task seeming more impotent than anything. The struggle making your body ache and shake even more. You wonder for a second if Shang-Chi is going to take you to his room. If this is really going to happen. And by the way he pulls away to rid you of your shirt, his fingers running down your damp skin, pressing open mouth kisses to your neck, chest, the top of your breasts. His fingers fiddling with your bra before it slips down your arms. His mouth making quick work on your nipples. His fingers finding your jeans as you follow suit with ridding him of his shirt, taking a few longer seconds than needed to admire his chiseled body. Before you both get the others pants undone and work on pushing them down damp skin. Your mouth connected, moans and groans of frustration and need filling the room; you know that you two won’t make it to his bedroom. That you need him here and now. The pounding ache in your pussy, the feel of his clothed cock between your folds as he lifts you and you wrap your legs around his waist. Your back against his apartment door.

And when he enters you it’s slow and all at once. Shang-Chi letting a breathy “fuck,” fall from his lips as he fills you. Your body clenching around him. One hand gripping your hair to smash your lips back to his. The other pressed above your head against the door. His thrusts slow and calculated at first. Open mouthed moans and breaths shared at the sheer pleasure and intensity of it all. “Wanted to do this for so long, fuck.” Shang-Chi moans into your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there making your back arch even more against the door, your weight pressed into it. “So, beautiful. Don’t know how I wait so long for this.” He chuckles softly as he presses his lips to yours again, his tongue against yours, his breath mixing with your heavy ones.

He felt so good. Every part of him. Even the parts of you he wasn’t touching. All you could feel was him. His cock stretching you in a way that burns with a deep pleasure that’s finally being sedated that your body shakes, moves in rhythm with his to let him go deeper, to feel him everywhere. The drag of his cock against your tight walls making you even more drunk on him. The dampness of rain on your bodies soon turning into mixed sweat and pheromones of desire and need.

You not even having to tell him what you need. Shang-Chi moving his arms under your legs, holding you in this new position, gripping your ass, allowing him to go deeper inside of your. Your head lolling back against the door. A string of incoherent moans and declarations of “fuck, Shang-Chi” “harder, omg” leaving your hoarse lungs. The burn only becoming worse when you feel his pelvis positioned just right to rub against your throbbing clit, the friction making your toes curl and mouth go slack.

“I’ve been dreaming about how it feels to have you cum on my cock, baby.” Shang-Chi moans against your neck. “Please, cum for me, let me feel you grip me. Fall apart while I’m inside of you. Bet you look so beautiful when you cum.”

His words setting every nerve of your body on a euphoric charge. That all it takes is a few more hard thrusts and him moaning your name into your mouth, and you’re coming. Your mind going hazy with the blissful intensity of shakes and shivers and pleasure and Shang-Chi. Your body becoming so sensitive that you let out small squeals when his thrusts becoming faster and harder against your hips and sensitive core. Shang-Chi quickly following suit, his head buried into your neck, his wet lips on your skin, his words of “fuck, baby” embedded on you, as he quickly pulls out of you and comes. Your thighs and his hand coated in him.

And once the two of you have came down, breaths shallow and slow. Bodies whipped clean, except for the burning of fingertips and mouths singed on each other’s skin. Eyes heavy sedated. Lips swollen and sensitive from rough kisses, bites, and tongues. Throats raw and aching. Your body heavier than before as Shang-Chi sets you on the couch. Your head rested against his chest. His hand moving softly in your hair. His lips resting at the back of your head.

The sheer passion and softness of it all. Of his touches. Of his kisses. His gaze. The rain outside casting a dull grey glow across your bodies. Shang-Chi’s whispers of attempted conversation making you smile; it’s all more than anything you could ever wanted, but didn’t know you needed.

🍂

The next time you find yourself at Shang-Chi’s apartment for another session, he opens the door and greets you with a kiss. Passionate, close, and gentle.

“I’ve been thinking about the other night.” He admits cooly. Pulls you into the warm apartment, shutting the door behind you. Pushes your back up against it, the events of the last time you two were together in this very spot flashing in your mind already heating your body up and making you ache. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it since it happened; it was all you could think about, dream about, touch yourself to. Daydreaming about the next time, hoping and praying there would be a next time with him.

“I didn’t get to taste you.” He smirks, picks you up and carries you over to the couch setting you down with a bounce. The both of you laughing at the motion. The humor wearing off as soon as Shang-Chi’s lips meet yours again, him sliding down to his knees to rest in between your open legs. His fingers making quick work with the button of the plaid skirt, pulling it down to toss to the other side of the room where your shoes sit. Your stockings and panties following suit, until your lower half is completely naked to him. His mouth kissing a trail up the inside of your thigh, the sensitive, sensual touch making you shiver and shift. The anticipation as he keep eye contact with you the closer he gets to your, already soaked, cunt.

And when his mouth finally makes contact with your wet center it sends shockwaves through you. Your body arching up into his mouth. Your hand instinctly going to the top of his head. The back of your head finding the cushions of the couch, your eyes closed in pleasure.

Shang-Chi devouring every bit of you. Alternating between licking and sucking at your clit; his tongue moving in circles, flicking, and massaging the sensitive bud just right that it has you gripping his hair, cursing as a moan after moan falls from your open mouth. His tongue teasing at your entrance, his grip on your thigh tightening and untightening the more intensely his mouth pleases and devours.

“Mmm,” Shang-Chi moans against your core, the vibration making your legs stutter and shake against his shoulders. Your hips rolling against his tongue, making the pleasure even more intense and so good. You think you hear him tell you how good you taste as he laps at you. And how he wants you to come on his tongue. Your mind clouded by the ache and burn of pleasure that all you can hear is your own heart beating in your ears and the moans you can’t stop from letting out.

Your orgasm reaches you quick and like a thunderstorm on the horizon waiting for the right moment to wreck havoc. Your body going rigid as you arch into the couch, your legs shaking and body quiver, as Shang-Chi sucks at your clit as you come on his tongue. A soft satisfied moan vibrating from his lips onto your skin.

He kisses your inner thighs, gently places them back onto the couch on either of him. Leans up with a smile and kisses your forehead, him leaning his forehead onto yours in its wake. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get enough of you.” He says sweetly. One hand finding yours and connecting your fingers. The other rubbing small circles into your hip.

And all you can do is smile because you know you’ll never get enough of him either.

He shows you as much as, after a beat, he’s kissing you. Removing your shirt and bra, letting his mouth roam and caress your breasts. Making his way back down to your still throbbing pussy as he makes you come on his mouth again.

You showing your appreciation the following day when you waste no time in dropping to your knees at the entry way of his apartment, your mouth wrapped around his cock. His hands in your hair, filthy words spewing from his teeth bitten lips, as you taste and savor him. Showing him you’ll never get enough of him either. The feeling of his cum shooting to the back of your throat setting the notion in stone.

🍂

After that it kind of goes on in that same manner. You seeming to come over to his apartment more times than not to end up in his bed, on your knees, or begging him to let you rest after making you come for the third time that day.

Once the two of you have had enough of each other you either get back to what lead you both here in the first place: sketching. Or Shang-Chi orders food and the two of you sit on the floor of his apartment, naked and pressed to each other, as you eat and talk. No matter what it all usually ending in sex or you falling asleep in his arms.

But when Shang-Chi asks you if he can sketch you nude. The question brought up after a night spent in bed together. The two of you stood at his front door to abide each other a goodbye. His hands at your sides, smiling down at you. “It’s okay if you’re not comfortable with it. I understand. There’s no pressure.” His sincerity written all over his face as he runs his thumb down your cheek.

You knew your answer even before he reassured you that it was okay if you said no. That seeing your body in any form you allowed, just allowing him to touch and taste you, is enough, and would always be enough for him. Him giving you an out, a reassurance that makes your heart full. Even before any of that, the intense thrill that shoots through you at the thought of him sketching you completely naked for his and his eyes only; it was a done deal for you.

So when you are back at his apartment the next day, a cream colored sheet hung on one of the walls, a matching colored one adorned on the floor below it as well. You don’t know why your nerves act up. Shang-Chi having seen you naked more times than you could count up until now. There was no need for the anxious feelings swirling around inside of your belly as you laid on the sheet, his posing you and sitting atop a stool a good distance in front of you. But you know why after you’re in your position for a while, your body settling in on autopilot now used to the long wait of having to hold a spot. Your eyes catching his every so often, the intense look of being completely lost in you; blown out pupils, swollen lips from being licked too much, the swallow breaths and slight pink tint of his cheeks giving way to every feeling and thought Shang-Chi was currently having about you as he sketched your naked body with precise lines and shades. This felt more intimate than when you two actually fucked.

As if you whole being was on display for him and it wasn’t overshadowed by moans or pure thoughts of the aching pleasure to come. It was just you two, him seeing you, you seeing him. The appreciation and devotion to what he was doing, how you looked, the way your body moved and turned and formed. And how he could capture that, remember it, reach out and feel it and have the evident of black smudge on his hand as a reminder that this was real. He saw you. Could see you. Could touch and fed you and vice versa. It was all so much.

And when he is done he joins you on the sheet. He kisses you with passion and spends extra time running his hands along your body, caressing every curvature and line. Every crevice and ample piece of skin his mouth can connect to. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispers against you, “my muse, perfect.” He praises, worships your body with his tongue and hands until you are coming and he’s inside of you. Smudges of charcoal staining both of your skins as he wraps his arms around you, kisses you, thrusts into you. The passion he has as he fucks you on the floor, praising you, telling you how good you are, how good you feel, how are more than he could of ever thought up. It takes your breath away and leaves your bones aching and body needing him for always.

After you both have come and laugh softly at the little smudges the two of you have now littered all over your bodies, you lay in a quiet calming silence. Your body still reeling and aching. Hot all over.

And when the two of you finally move to the other side of the room, laying against each other on the couch, eyes looking upon the sketch of you; naked and exposed in all of your glory to him. You ask him, “what do you think?” You look over to him, “what do you see?”

His gaze meets yours, his soft smile there and lazy on his lips as he says, “Only you. There’s no trace of me in here expect how the lines came to be. Everything else is you. It’s all you.”

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 23: PRETTY BOY

emotions run wild when everyone is drunk and hardly coherent. quackity is always loud, but tonight is a full on assault on the senses (the ears, in particular). bretman simps for corpse too much for your liking. rae is happy for once. there’s a confession of love somewhere in there. sister james makes a very good impostor, but that’s old news, the real question is who gave you a knife? a new persona emerges that leaves the roaches quivering in their boots.

─── corpse husband x reader, a lil bit of everyone x reader (because she’s a queen) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: a lil over 7k.

author’s note: it’s the way i can’t follow a fucking calendar for me. sorry guys, i swear to god i thought i had one more day before thursday . the idiot award goes to me and i accept it with pride. anyway, i was excited to write this for a while! quackity is in mexico, that’s why he drinks, too. my fic, my rules, he’s too funny not to include. im also working on an extra w dream and mr quack so look forward to that, too! hopefully u like this part ily xx and as always lmk wat u think!!

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous. ҉   next.

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The outfit for today was picked with care and consideration. Hot, as always- you had forgotten your roots, your hoodie and sweats lay hidden in the bottom of your drawer never to be worn on stream again. You’ve changed. Clout really does that to people. Some viewers, naturally, find your hotness near insulting: how dare you rub your beauty in their faces, and so unabashedly, too?! If only you had a twinge of self-awareness, perhaps you would tone it down. But you don’t, and whether that’s by choice or not is the mystery the whole internet tries to solve (ARMY has been working diligently, and you admire their effort, though in the end their tireless labor brings no tangible results). 

You went from hot to hotter. In all truth, the fires eating away at California can be blamed on you. You carry this burden in stride, in your platform overpriced shoes some girl scammed you on Depop with, in your fishnets, in your skirt, in your corset, in your rings and necklaces and chains. You woke up today and chose violence. Decided your existence will be a plague to the rest of the populace, and meant it (that, maybe, you took inspiration from a certain faceless Youtuber that so happens to be your boyfriend or whatever). You feel powerful. Like you could step on the world and the world would let you. You decide that it’s the way it should always be. 

The smile on your lips informs of nothing good to your quaint, small audience of 40k. You change the lighting in your room from the soft cherry blossom pink to menacing violet. As fitting for a villain.

Perhaps California’s hellish sun has finally purged you of your bubbly, docile nature (arguably, you had never possessed it to begin with); perhaps it’s the forth mimosa you’re mixing as people slowly trickle into the lobby. Who knows?! Not you, definitely. What do all of those boring dead white European philosophers say? Embrace the unknown? Cheers, you’ll drink to that.

In stark contrast to your appearance, your room is a fucking mess. A war-zone of epic anime scale. Everything is scattered, well, everywhere. A perfect representation on what’s going on in your mind, always. You don’t like how people focus on your surroundings-- you’re the main attraction, hello? Are you not enough to sustain them? Must they beg for more?! Totally ungrateful. You shake your head in disappointment, as if a mother scolding her children. 

noooooo! mom pls forgive me i will never ask abt anything ever again T_T

yall looking at the room? lol couldnt be me

feels like im five and my mum just told me i cant eat a pretty rock i found on the pavement:(

You can’t contain your sly grin. Eyes twinkle with a purplish hue, appearing all the more menacing. You tricked them once again, oh how absolutely evil of you. In your blind delight you accidentally spill champagne on your lap.

“-Oop, fuck.” You snort.

why does she sound like goofy 

The scandalous drunk Among Us stream is about to start. You had been eerily silent through the greetings, and those that chose to approach you were met with a cold shoulder and minimal replies. All on purpose, of course. You wish to plant a seed of unease within them, and so far, it’s working. There are questions unanswered, jokes unsaid, Quackity unteased. It breaks your heart, but it must be done. You look into the camera, all vulnerable and devout, as if to say: I’m doing this for you, all for you.

pack it up yandere simulator

idk whats going on but i think im into it?

villain arc villain arc villain aRC VILLAIN ARC

“Hey, guys,” Corpse’s voices rings in your headphones, and not a blink later his astronaut appears in the lobby in a cloud of smoke, “Hi, Y/n.”

More sharp, excited hellos follow after. You merely hum, though give no further reply. As Corpse strays to your side, Charlie steps in in front of him, “BDA access only. You have a permit, bitch?”

“Y/n is being quiet-she’s being quiet, guys!” Quackity helpfully informs, as if the rest failed to notice your cryptic silence, “Don’t be sad Corpse, man, Corpse don’t be-she didn’t say shit to me either.”

“Y/n has decided to not waste her breath on the SDS.” Charlie voices, “And you know what? I actually agree with her for once.”

“SD-what now?” Dream questions.

“The Small Dick Society.” Charlie explains, noting Dream’s whine of protest, “Oh no, don’t give me that shit, weren’t you bitching about not being invited and not belonging to exclusive clubs? Congratulations, you’re finally part of one.”

“Wait!” Quackity interjects, “Am I part of it too?”

“Guess, Sherlock.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Corpse says. You nod to your audience, like he just spoke the God honest truth, and follow in his example. Your tentative sip unexpectedly turns into a greedy gulp, but you’re not complaining. The only slightly coherent thought that rings in your mind is drink tasty.

“Ignore them,” Rae chimes, “Y/n’s probably plotting something and using Charlie as a cover up.”

“I’d never.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“Well you sure are very quick to deny it.” You can hear her smirking, can hear the proud lilt in her voice, like she caught onto your silly little scheme, like she has you all figured out. Your eyes narrow dangerously. The night behind your window pools dark, with far away city lights glimmering before they, too, seem to dim. 

Your roommate is back on your shitlist. How her name was missed among the rest.

“I’m defending my honor.” You yelp, the playfulness back in your voice along with your sunny smile, “I can’t have my wifey slandering me online. At least do it in private, geez.”

If Rae’s such a good detective, you’ll give her a good chase. Perhaps you’ve been laying it on too thick. Made her too suspicious. She can’t out you yet--not when your plans are so grand, so fun. It would be a waste.

“Why weren’t you saying anything then?” Quackity questions.

“Do I need a reason not wanting to talk to you?” You shoot back. Your friends laugh and he tries to shriek something past their cackle. You lean back into your chair, the tension from Rae’s confrontation finally easing. You wink at the camera and bring a finger to your lips. The roaches swear to secrecy, elated by your wickedness. As appropriate, they spam devil emojis and various renditions of evil hohohos and hehehes. The apple truly does not fall far from the tree. You had raised them well. You raise your glass in solidarity. A few donations fall into your pocket, easily summed up as: make them suffer.

Muting the discord call, you give a single response, “Oh, I intend to.”

i hope this doesn’t awaken something in me

^already too late for me bro

As caught up in wreaking havoc among your viewers as you are, you miss Sykkuno’s entrance, though from what you can tell, Charlie gave a stern warning to back the fuck off to him, too. He’s playing into your plan so beautifully. Truly, you couldn’t do this without him. Back to stalking the chat you go.

Your eyes flicker to the game upon Bretman’s signature drawl and “Hi, daddy.”. You have no time to get offended at Corpse’s sweet “Hi, honey” back, because the next person to join the discord call and the lobby leaves you speechless. You knew, of course, you had been informed of the line-up, but still, you had never expected yourself to be so close to Jomes Chorles himself. You make a weird gesture with your hands, half wave half excited wiggle, as if you’re telling the audience to calm down, when, in fact, it is you that needs calming.

He goes saying his hello’s like doing a public service, name by name, before, lastly, uttering, “Hi, Miss Y/n. Loooove the vids.”

He’s a roach in disguise, who could’ve known?! Your audience is so diverse and unexpected, gosh, you’d shed a tear if the mascara wasn’t so expensive.

“Hi!” You reply with a grin, and it’s genuine this time, a glimmer of your old self, “Hi, I love your videos, too. It’s like, really cool to finally meet you.”

“Oh my God, you too!” Is his enthusiastic reply, “Okay, the energy in the studio today? Love it.”

“Is this all of us?” Quackity asks.

“Sadly.” James says with a note of disappointment.

“HEY!”

“Okay, guys!” Ash chimes, “Let’s do this! Proximity Among Us, round one, go go go!”

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Luck does not shine upon you during the first round- you are stuck as Crew Mate, your life cut short by Bretman who had the audacity to bite your head off. You’re positive Ke$ha wrote her hit single Cannibal about him, and if she didn’t, she definitely had a That’s So Raven moment and predicted it. It’s also insanely suspicious as after you are eliminated he sticks real close to Corpse, feigning innocence (and this is a controversial opinion you do not endorse) better than even you. It wounds your pride, having been picked off so casually, so quickly, and now stuck a ghost you roam the halls of the dying spaceship, lost, confused, heartbroken.

Charlie runs past you, not once even glancing in your direction. “Brother...” You mutter sadly, “Do you not see me here? Do you not feel... the loss of your twin’s heartbeat...?" Damn, these mimosas really are making you emotional. You sniffle and take a sip to calm the storm within you. No rage, just sadness. You are still processing your own tragic demise.

Suddenly, a meeting is called. There’s a horrible red X on your astronaut. You are the only one dead so far, and of course the rest won’t vote out the fucker. How bitterly you sit! With your arms crossed over your chest and your glare sharp enough to cut through glass. Fuck the sad shit, now you’re just angry. At the very least, the second Impostor could’ve given you some company!

“I knew something felt off.” Charlie is first to speak.

“Who the fuck killed Y/n?” Corpse questions, and his voice ignites a whole discussion that lasts much too short. The others skip, having no suspect yet. It’s much too soon to start pointing fingers, but you still feel like they should have at least tried. Pouting, you fix yourself another drink.

“Stop drinking!?” You gasp, exasperated at your chats demands, “I’m dead! What else should I do, the tasks?! Nah, fuck that. I’m done. I’m out. Charlie better employ his fucking detective skills because if the Impostors win, I will literally quit the game--yes I will, no I’m not bullshitting, fucking watch me.”

Thankfully, Bretman was caught venting, and you didn’t have to end the stream prematurely. The second Impostor, your roommate (oh, the betrayal, Rae, how could you?!) was voted out due to Corpse’s suspicion. Victory to the Crew Mates! The game restarts and you find yourself back in the lobby.

“Miss Y/n,” Bretman says, “I am sooo sorry for killing you first, baby. It was just too easy. I couldn’t pass it up.”

Giggling, Quackity chimes, “Sister slaughtered.”

“Oh my God,” James groans, “shut up!”

“Yeah, Y/n.” Charlie speaks, and there’s an accusatory note in his calm voice, “Why the fuck did you allow yourself to be eliminated first? Real noob shit, I expected more of you.”

“HUH?!” You frown, “What’s with the victim blaming?! I literally was doing my task and Bretman snuck up on me. It’s not like I had a weapon to defend myself!”

“You have been avenged,” Corpse states, “and that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, Corpse!” You say, “At least someone cares.”

“Hey, I helped, too!” Dream pipes up.

“No, you didn’t.” Corpse shoots him down, “I was the only one.”

“You were not--”

“Literally was. Isn’t that right, Sykkuno?”

“Uhhhh-” Sykkuno trails off, “Well, we-we all helped!” You can hear his shy smile, and you just know he’s bobbing his head up and down at this exact moment, “We all helped. Team work!”

“Team work!” The rest echo, save for yourself, Corpse, Charlie, and the two Impostors. Silence speaks more than a thousand words or whatever. You pray to any higher power willing to listen to finally assign you the role of the villain, the one you were born to do. 

Sadly, higher powers must have either shitty customer service or are in need of hearing aids, and you almost scream in frustration when your astronaut appears along with the others, the bold CREW MATE title chipping away at your master plan.

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“Hey, Y/n, hey! Hey, Y/n!” Rae finds you in Cafeteria, where you, metaphorically, are eating your feelings. Not that she needs to know, of course. She sounds chipper, a bit ditsy, and that must mean she’s sufficiently tipsy. You store that information for later, and forget about it as soon as you notice Dream and Sykkuno, like her very own personal bodyguards, trailing after her, “Wanna play a game?!”

“Is this Saw?” You inquire, somewhat lazy. You’d be lying if you said the alcohol wasn’t affecting you, it’s just instead of making you bubbly, it makes you mellow. This was supposed to be fun, you were supposed to terrorize everyone and laugh as they perished by your hand, yet here you are, wallowing in self-pity. The roaches start worrying. The donation jingle chimes.

BEATINGS & SLUTATIONS yns_fishnets donated 5$ mom just wait it out & dont worry youll get your vengeance soon lead them on!!!!

Your fishnets have a point! 

“Saw?--No, no, haa, no it’s a drinking game.” Dream sounds like he has had one too many rounds of this mysterious game, and naturally, you are intrigued.

“Where we drink!” Sykkuno clarifies. Right, well that explains everything! If you had any questions, you surely have none now.

“Okay, so, name a category, and you have to, like, say a word associated with it...Or something along those lines.” You hadn’t even agreed and Rae is explaining the rules already. She knows you too well. It’s both a blessing and a curse, “Can be anything! Okay, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n start!”

“Uhh--” If only your brain computed as fast as she spoke! “Song lyrics! Wait--who drinks?”

“You fail, you drink!” She hurries, “Choke me like you hate me but you love meeeeee. Syk, go, go go!”

“Uhm, ah, I don’t wanna feel like this, uh, fuck?” He laughs--it’s a raspy, embarrassed little sound, “I don’t...wanna look like this? Dream, now you!”

“Wait, we’re singing Corpse’s songs?”

“Any song!” You urge him quickly, “Hurry! Or drink!”

“She say I kill her cat like I'm Luka Magnotta--”

“Hey! That’s cheating! You can’t use my song!” Rae protest.

“That wasn’t in the rules!” He counters.

“Y/n! Time’s running out!” Sykkuno exclaims.

“Oh, uh, will-will the real Slim Shady please stand up!”

NOT EMINEM WHAT THE FUCK

MOOOM WHT THE HELL THIS ISNT 2008 T_T

“Ra-Ra-Rasputin, Russia’s greatest love machine--”

“All...All the other kids with the pumped up kicks better, uhh, run better run, faster...-faster than my gun?”

“Uhh, shit--fucking hell.” Dream laughs, and Rae practically screams at him to keep going, “Alright! Okay! I’m singing--uh, you’re so golden, na na na na?”

“I tell you what a woman loves most,” You chime gleefully, “it’s a man who can slap but can also stroke.”

finally, the mother mother representation we’ve all been waiting for

i aint exactly gay but i aint exactly not gay >:)

the bis won

“I steal a few breeeeaaaths from the woooorld for a minute--”

“Mitski?!” You question, eyes bulging, “Baby, who hurt you?”

Even if you can’t see her, you know she’s waving her arms around and shaking her head, “Not the point! Sykkuno!”

“Uh, I-I, uhm, I don’t--”

“Drinnnnk!” You all chorus. 

“It was a good concert,” You say, “Syk, I’ll drink with you.”

“Thank you, Y/n. That’s very kind of you.” He says softly, with a smile lining his lips. You grin.

“Oh, fine. Everyone, bottoms up!” Rae decides, and no one protest. A moment of silence passes, then, “Well, GG, GG, let’s do some tasks?”

Your enthusiastic Ariana Grande-esque “yuh” is cut short by the second meeting of game two being called. The first one to go had been Ash, voted out during a bathroom break as a joke, and you still feel a bit bad about that. Now, you notice Charlie has been eliminated. A sense of righteousness fills you--while you mourn for your brother from another mother and father and family tree, you feel like this is divine punishment for slandering you before the start of this round. Karma. Nothing much is discussed, and the meeting ends shortly with everyone skipping. 

You spend a good ten minutes wandering around with Dream, who’s mission appears to be convincing you to join his Minecraft server, and really, there was no need for him to try so hard. You failed to provide him with a concrete answer only because it would've been to humiliating to admit that you agreed instantly upon hearing the word Minecraft.

That’s when things get fucking weird. Another meeting is called whilst you’re in the middle of fixing lights, and once the board with the members appears you audibly gasp. There had been 8 living, breathing astronauts rushing around the map, and now only 4 remain. You, Corpse, James, and Alex. 

“What the fuck--what the fuck?!” You screech alarmed, noting Dream being among the perished crew, “I was just with Dream fixing the lights, I was just with him, what the fuck--”

“Okay, no one panic.” James says, “Let’s figure this out. Okay? Okay. Who else is close to Electrical?”

“I’m at Nav.” Quackity says.

“I’m at Cafeteria, but Y/n--” Corpse starts, “kinda weird that Dream died when you were with him?”

“I didn’t fucking kill him, I swear to God, Corpse, why are you accusing me?”

“Don’t be so defensive.” He says smoothly, “I’m just pointing out the obvious. We all have a reason to be sus, no? Considering you were right with him.”

“...It is suspicious.” James agrees, and a part of you dies inside. You understand their hesitance to trust you, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating!

“Guys, I didn’t kill him, I swear. He invited me to play Minecraft, I wouldn’t do that to him, not after that!”

Corpse merely hums, and it brings no comfort what’s so ever. The situation is spiraling, and not in your favor. Trying to salvage your chances at freedom, you try again, “Wh-James, James, you called the meeting, right?”

“Yeah, I found Rae’s body near Medical.”

“So I couldn’t have killed her and Dream at the same time!” You latch onto that piece of information, hoping it will save you.

“You could’ve vented.” Corpse points out, “Plus, there’s no telling how old the body is.”

“Killing five fucking people? It’s the work of one person, or else the game would have already ended. As it stands, I am no way sober enough to think all of this out.”

A brief silence hangs in the air; your lungs constrict from tension, from spilling words so hotly. You grasp your glass, as if for emphasis, and take a shy sip. It taste sweet, a bit too sweet for your liking. Must be your nerves. You drink again to wash the taste out of your mouth, which, surprisingly, doesn’t work. You whine a little, stomping your feet like a child about to throw a temper tantrum.

“...I believe her.” Quackity says. You breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Alex, thank youuuuuu!” You gush, batting your lashes as if he could somehow see you and that would somehow portray your innocence, “I knew I liked you for a reason!”

He mutes his mic, his spill of words lost to your ears, but chat helpfully informs that he’s screaming because you don’t hate him. 

y/n out here collecting men like pokemon cards

Now all that’s left is to convince the others. You start with the one you know will work, “Corpse,” You address him in your sweetest voice.

“Y/n,” James warns, “don’t you dare--”

“Baby, I didn’t kill anyone, I’m crew mate, you gotta believe me.”

“She's innocent.” Corpse declare, thoroughly convinced.

“Oh my fucking God, you fucking simp!” James laughs, “She’s obviously manipulating you!”

“No, no, she isn’t. She’s innocent, I agree with Quackity. Now, it’s either you or him.”

“Could be you for all we know!” Alex accuses.

“Guys, time’s running out.” You mutter fretfully, noting the seconds tick by from white to red. 

“I’m voting Alex.” Corpse says.

“What?! Fucking traitor! Fine, I’m voting for you.” Alex hisses.

“Ugh, hate agreeing with Quackity, but I’m also voting Corpse. Sorry, hon, nothing personal.” James says. The VOTED icons pop up beside their characters and you panic, pressing your mouse idly but it’s too late, there wasn’t enough time, and you cry as Corpse is thrown into lava. The chat spams F, and it feels like salt on a fresh wound.

In a second you’re back in Cafeteria, shell-shocked and trembling, and Quackity cusses because the Impostor is still among you. His frustration doesn’t last long as you watch in horror as Jams Chortles, beauty guru supreme, murders the only other crew mate in cold blood and all you can do is gape and let his cheerful laughter fill your ears. The screen bleeds red, informing of Impostor victory, the second one being Ash. Looks like you voted her off for the right reason, but little difference did it make.

“Corpse!” You yell past the cacophony of voices, all in varying forms of excitement or anger, beelining for his in-game figure, “Corpse, I’m so sorry, I panicked, I tried pressing the button but I wasn’t quick enough--”

“It’s alright, baby. Don’t worry about it.” He’s so calming, so gentle, you might burst into tears again. What did you do to deserve him? You wish he was with you so you could smother him in a hug. Alas, all you can do now is say “I kith you, mwah!” and rush to the other side of the lobby, as if to hide from such a bold display of affection, even if it was a joke (it wasn’t).

yall say corpse simps for y/n but the reality is y/n simps for corpse harder

queen stop its embarrassing

bhaddies can simp!! i wouldnt but its her choice <3

More deliberations, commentary, and short breaks. Once everyone has returned, the countdown starts. You’re still reeling from the chaos of emotions, the five stages of grief you experienced in 1 second upon Corpse’s unjust demise, that it takes you a moment, a single heartbeat to realize what you’re seeing on screen.

The letters IMPOSTOR hang above your astronaut, with Dream standing just behind you as your newly appointed partner in crime. And suddenly, all the sadness and the tenderness and sympathy vanish with a curt exhale. You slowly turn your head to the chat, muting the Discord call, your soft chuckle of disbelief turning into a full blown laugh.

it’s happening!!!! 

omg omg omg omg

VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC

You slap your palm over your lips, trying to contain your wicked smile, to tone down your broken giggles, “N-No, I can’t laugh yet,” shaking your head softly, you look into the camera, “they’re all going to die.”

pack it up light yagami

this has awoken something in me.

^ same

The crew mates go their own ways, rushing to do their tasks like the diligent little workers they are. How adorable. Their grim fate is still miles away from them. The shit you’ll pull will be for the history books. Much like your outfit, which you picked keeping in mind your newfound thirst for blood, you had devised your plan of action with care and consideration. You had been mulling it over all day, drawing on paper like the absolute madwoman you are; hell, you even made sticky notes on who to go for first and what to say. Sure, being moderately drunk hinders your memory slightly (an understatement of the century), but you got a feel for what you’re going to do. It’s nothing short of evil.

Dream and you don’t exchange words, you merely nod at him-- which he, of course, can’t see-- but your criminal bond enables telepathic communication. You can hear his thoughts, ones that strangely sound like drink drink, drink drink. And really, who are you to refuse such an enticing offer?! As he fucks off to stalk his victims, or play pretend, you take a sip. The cocktail is still sweet, but this time it’s not the icky sweet you had tasted prior. You glance at your sticky notes, ones the roaches can’t see, and nearly spill your drink for the second time today as you jerk.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, shoving your headphones off and spinning in your chair. You hastily stand up, wobble -- the world is pleasantly funny right about now -- and giggle. Stepping past the mountains of abandoned clothes and pillows and blankets and anime plushies, you maneuver your way to your bedside table and yank it open, nearly taking out the whole drawer with you. In the mess of old diaries and bad drawings, pencils, jewelry, and stickers, you fish out something you should not be wielding in your inebriated state.

It’s a knife.

In midst of teenage angst you had ordered it off of Amazon with your mom’s credit card, all the while whining that it’s not a phase, mom, and it’s what all of my cool kid friends with fried hair have, and don’t you want me to fit in, don’t you want your daughter to be happy?! You think it’s about that time, the time of too much uneven eyeliner and black eye shadow, that she took to calling you little raccoon. Trash rabbit was your personal favorite, but she used it sparingly. When you presented your Macy’s outfit, holding up a fucking butterfly knife, to your dad, asking if it was a look, he glanced up from some boring business magazine all boring business dads read and said, with a bright smile might you add, “It’s a something!”.

Oh, how it gleams in the lilac light. You used to do tricks with it, back in eight grade maybe, and--what the fuck? Why did you parents allow you to buy it in the first place? Well, because you’re the only child, the only one important, of course they got it for you and clapped enthusiastically at your performances, because why wouldn’t they? The whining they’d face otherwise would’ve been harder to endure than a whole dance number to Panic! At The Disco’s greatest hits. Broadway looked so fucking shabby in comparison. Your mom said so, so it must be true.

Stumbling back to your extremely confused viewers, you take your seat, feeling a bit more grounded now that you’re not standing on your platform shoes anymore. Putting on your headphones, you grin at the chat that starts swimming, and not from too much drinking either. You do a quick flick of your wrist, one that thankfully doesn’t end in injury, and the sharp tip of the exposed knife points upwards, glimmering. It’s a rainbow colored one, because one, it’s pretty, and two, you weren’t hardcore enough for the jet-black or straight up military ones the other emo kids had. Cute and dangerous, just like you.

So you just sit there, holding it up, looking somewhat sly as the roaches capture this momentous moment with screen-caps. Someone definitely clipped you trudging past the obstacle course to obtain a weapon of mass destruction. You must be already trending on Twitter, though you can’t exactly log on and confirm your suspicions. You just feel like you might be, like you should be, because your audience wouldn’t let this slide. Thankfully, your friends don’t have time to check social media, or you’d be outed in an instant.

“Y/n?” Your roommates voice booms from your headphones, and you perk up with a stupid realization that you completely forgot about Among Us. Stuck at the start, at the lobby where Dream had left you, you see her astronaut waddling to you, “What are you doing here? Wait--Have you not moved from the beginning?” She can barely finish the sentence without giggling. 

You grin, “I was looking for something.”

Your voice is soft, too calm for your usual frantic spill. You gently set the knife down, hand coming to rest on your mouse, fingers idly, slowly, bouncing on the buttons.

“...What were you looking for?” She’s none the wiser, the numerous drinks consumed tonight numbing her sharp mind. She would have noticed. Your eerie composure would’ve given it away in a heartbeat, or at least hinted at something being objectively wrong. But she sounds curious. Poor girl, hasn’t she heard? Curiosity killed the cat.

“A knife.”

“A knife?!” There’s something about her tone that implies a mental clicking, the puzzle pieces falling together, “You have a knife?!”

“Yes.”

“No!”

You think it would only be appropriate that the random sequence of killing animations renders the backstabbing one. You grin, biting your lower lip with a quiet snicker.

i love women

if evil bad...why seggy?

You take your time leaving her there -- in true serial-killer-to-be fashion, you stick around for a bit longer, admiring your handiwork, or more like the chat singing your praises. You joined today with the intent of making an interesting stream. You have no doubt in your mind that now it will be legendary.

You move down the hallway, and you let your imagination wander: you can almost feel the stuffy air of your helmet, can almost hear your loud footsteps echoing in all this hush, can almost see your reflection in the spotless tile floor. It’s not long before your second victim makes an appearance, running circles in Cafeteria. You hear his voice first before you see him, recognizing Alex by his unhinged screech of “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s goooo!” 

“And what’s got you so excited?” How cool and collected you are, gosh, you barely contain the quiver of excitement that threatens to slip out. 

“Y/n!” He exclaims, rushing to your side like a lost puppy--he’s really making this easy for you, he’s not even trying, “You just missed--Oh my fucking God, you just missed James, he-he called me tall, he called me fucking tall! Let’s go, let’s gooooo!”

“Well, you are tall, aren’t you?” You chime sweetly, almost as sweet as the drink that lingers on the tip of your tongue, “Real 6′3 energy, no?”

“Yes, yes, exactly! You get it, you fucking get it--” Once again, his mic goes mute, and you glance at the chat for help.

hard to transcribe what hes saying but hes taking shots and yelling that he loves you good job mom

hey, queen! girl, you have done it again, constantly raising the bar for us all and doing it flawlessly

mom plz dont kill alex hes too cute hes all uwu rn

Oh, how you’re about to break his poor little heart. If you had any good left in you, you’d spare him. You don’t, and you’re not taking requests at the moment, so all you do is smile at your chat and they know. They just do. Hive-mind shit, you’re all two-faced little fuckers.

You giggle, and it sounds a tad fake, “You’re so weird, Alex,” You start, and he’s back in the call, a sound of confusion echoing in your ears, “but I get it, you know. You’re weird. You’re a weirdo. You don’t fit it, and you don’t want to fit in. I mean, really, has anyone even seen you without your stupid hat?”

“...Do--” He sputters, bellowing a laugh, “Do you have that whole fucking monologue memorized?!”

“Is it because you’re bald?”

“I’m not fucking bald!” His giddiness is quickly replaced by anger.

You hum, pretend to think, lastly barking a “Liar.” before you kill him. His scream is cut off, leaving only deafening silence at it’s wake. Unlike with Rae, you don’t stick around. You didn’t appreciate how little he enjoyed your recital.

You run into James near Navigation, most likely on his way to Cafeteria. He ends his song mid-note, and you breathe a sigh of relief, “Finally! Someone! I’ve been looking all over, where the hell is everyone?” You question, blocking his way, lest he accidentally stumbles onto the crime scene and easily pins it on you. You’re not done yet.

“Honestly? No clue. I’m searching for them myself, like, everyone’s scattered. I hope no one died.”

You smile. You tried not to, but you can’t contain it, “Me, too.” You echo the sentiment, urging him to join you, and he does. Too trusting. Everyone in this game is too fucking trusting. You lead him back to Nav, feigning that you have a task here. As you pretend to move the spaceship, you can’t help but ask, “Hey, James?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

A beat of silence passes, “Oh no, fuck that, I don’t like this at all.” He states, about to spin on his heel and bolt like he should do, but you’re quicker-- killer instincts and all-- and he’s dead before he makes it out the doorway.

“See, after your No More Lies video, I figured you’d only tell the truth.” Yes, this is the part of the anime where the villain monologues, only the hero in this case is an astronaut cut in half, and not exactly alive to listen to you. You hope James’ ghost sticks around, “Case in point, why the fuck did you tell Quackity he’s tall?” You eye the chat, which’s mostly spamming W and comparing you to Ryo from Devilman Crybaby. “Such a shame...” You murmur, pressing the REPORT button.

“What?! How are so many people dead?!” Ash gasps, her kind voice tinted with fear and confusion. Your three kills, like military stars on an uniform of a distinguished officer, are displayed on the board. Dream appears to be slacking, having yet to take a life.

“Someone’s been real fucking busy.” Charlie observes. It’s true, you have been.

“I found James in Nav, but holy shit--” You begin, exasperated, “--what the fuck, guys, how did we miss this shit? Where is everyone?”

“I’m at Electrical.” Corpse voices.

“And I’m with Corpse.” One sentence is all it takes to figure out your next target: Bretman. Revenge for being killed first in the first goddamn round, and for spending so much time with your boyfriend.

Eep!!! Boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend!!! The word even makes you forget your thirst for blood, that’s how whipped you are. Sadly, it’s time to return to reality, to this grave situation.

“And what have the two of you been conspiring?” You keep your tone level, but that alone is enough to set everyone off. The unease you had planted within them before the game started is starting to bloom. However, if they suspect you, they don’t speak up, not yet.

“Fishnets, mostly.” Corpse says.

only partly a lie he was mostly talking abt u queen <3

corpse simping for y/n is the sweetest thing ever

the times corpse used y/ns name when talking abt y/n: 1. the times he used baby or my baby: infinite

“I’m wearing them right nyoooow.” Bretman drawls.

You hum, “What a coincidence. I am, too.”

“Wait--For real?” That seems to catch Corpse’s attention, because of course it does, you picked them with him in mind, after all.

“No peeping.” You tsk, obviously referring to his tendency to hop onto your stream unprompted. Whether he actually listens to your demands is beyond you, “Peeping means cheating.”

“For the love of fuck all, can we get back to the three dead bodies, please? Because I’m about to have a second coming of Christ moment and taste my consumed, digested beer for the second time.” Charlie interjects.

“I mean, anyone have any ideas who’d do this?” Dream takes hold of the conversation. Quiet, disappointed nos greet him. They have nothing to go on, no clues, not even a subliminal message. With everyone scattered, there is no way of locating the actual bodies and drawing a long red trail leading back to you. 

You’re too good at lying, and Dream is too good of a publicist. People tend to trust his judgement, which is his main asset (besides his calm demeanor of course). When the Among Us gods chose you as Impostor, they made sure you had every advantage. 

“Who-Who do you think it is, Dream?” Ash questions, “I trust you. I do. Just know that.”

“No fucking clue.”

“Y/n?” She tries again.

“Same. I’m a bit worried, though.”

“Let’s, uhhh, let’s skip?” Sykkuno offers. The consensus is to start voting at six. Your new mission is to make sure you dwindle the numbers down drastically before that can happen. You have no qualms about sacrificing Dream in order to meet your goals, either. Absolutely cold blooded.

Back at Cafeteria, there are words exchanged about Quackity’s body just laying there, forgotten. Blame is shifted: how come we didn’t notice sooner? Where’s Rae? And you mindlessly go along with their mourning, not really paying attention. Dream leaves with Charlie and Sykkuno, Corpse requests you stay with him and you sprout fake apologies. Not his time yet. Us girls need to stick together!, you sing, following after Ashley and getting further and further away from him, going deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of the spaceship.

You find yourself in Security with her, her cute astronaut pressed to the cameras, watching the live feed, “Let’s lurk here, okay? Maybe we’ll see something.” If only she saw who was standing behind her. 

“Who do you think is the Impostor?” You ask, standing in the doorway, “Or, more like, who are the Impostors?”

“Honestly?” She ends her word with a little sigh, “I think it might be Corpse and Bretman. I haven’t seen them at all this game.”

You smile, raising your brows, tilting your heard, and you sound so kind, like a dear old friend about to deliver a tender message, “...Have you seen me?”

“SHIT!”

Too late. In one smooth motion she joins the afterlife. You cut the lights, venting mindlessly till you spot Corpse and Bretman panicking in Weapons. Your existence is still a mystery to them.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck--” Corpse mumbles, “Bretman, don’t you dare fucking kill me right now.”

“I’m not Impostor!”

“Okay, I’ll drink to that.”

They rush out of Weapons, most likely on their way to Electrical, and you trail after them like the Grim Reaper itself, biding your time till you can deliver the killing blow.

“Corpse?!” You call out, mild panic ringing in your voice, “Is that you?”

“Shit, Y/n? Where are you?” He questions. Crew vision is so sad, so small, how can he not see you standing almost right next to him? “Where’s Ash?”

“I dunno,” You say, “when the lights went out I ran. Please don’t kill me.”

“I’d never do that, baby.”

Too easy. They’re all too fucking easy. You bite your lower lip, trying to stop the laugh bubbling in your chest, to stop the lightheaded dizziness that overcomes you with a rush of excitement. 

“Thanks, pretty boy.” You mutter, and it sounds a bit lower than you intended, a bit darker, something sinister lurking underneath cotton candy words. It instantly clicks in Bretman and he makes a noise, something like a whine, and you see him backing away, “I know I can always trust you.” 

Whether Corpse notices the odd shift in tone, he doesn’t show it, “I like it when you call me that.” Is all he says, and you hear the smile in his voice, the appreciation. The trek to Electrical is all but forgotten. You slowly make your way to Bretman, “Where are you? Come here.”

“Just a minute,” You say cheerily, “I just need to kill Bret first.”

“Holy shit.”

“N-” Your victim’s sentence is cut off in a second, and you can’t contain your manic cackle this time, because the screen bleeds red, the words VICTORY splattered on it, depicting yours and Dream’s sneaky astronauts. You’re still laughing as the voices of your fallen friends ring in your ears.

“Y/n, what the fuck, you’re an actual monster.” Dream says, but there’s no actual weight behind his words, each syllable punctured with a laugh.

“I knew the second she asked me about my favorite scary movie that I’d get the chop.” James states.

“Wait, Y/n, did you kill everyone?” Corpse questions.

“She fucking did!” Dream answers for you, “I got Charlie and Sykkuno, and barely at that. What the fuck.”

“I’ve been waiting so fucking long for this.” You admit, giggling, raising you glass, “I toast to you, Dream. My perfect partner in crime.”

“I didn’t really do shit, but cheers.”

Quackity heaves a heavy sigh, “Y/n, Y/n, you don’t actually think I’m weird, right? Right?”

“No, she does.” James chimes.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID I EVER DO TO YOU, DUDE?!”

More commotion, more noise, and you just sit there, buzzed, snickering, reading the chat as the rest agree to play another round. You thank the people who donated that you had accidentally missed among the, you know, murder, reply to a few questions, bow dramatically to the many praises and invisible flowers you receive for such beautiful assassin work. When you look back at the screen, you throw your head back with a maniacal laugh.

Impostor again, only this time it’s with Charlie. Family bonds are often restored when united under a common goal. You’re so happy. So happy. You weren’t done terrorizing your friends yet.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos​ - @fairywriter-oracle​ - @tsukishimawh0re​ - @ofstarsanddreams​ - @bbecc-a​ - @annshit​ - @leahh19​ - @letsloveimagines​ - @bellomi-clarke​ - @wineandionysus​ - @guiltydols​ - @onephootinfrontoftheother​ - @liamakorn​ - @thirstyfangirl​ - @lilysdaydreams​ - @pan-ini​ - @mxqicshxp​ - @tanchosanke​ - @yoshinorecommends​ - @flightsandfantasy​ - @liljennyx3​ - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible​ - @sinister-sleep​ - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat​ - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit​ - @unstableye​ - @simonsbluee​ - @shinyshimaagain​ - @ppopty​ - @siriuslystupid​ - @crapimahuman​ - @ofthedewthesunlight​ - @mythicalamphitrite​ - @artsyally​ - @corpsesimpp​ - @corpsewhitetee​ - @corpse-husbandsimp​ - @hyp-oh-critical​ - @roses-and-grasses​ - @rhyrhy462​ - @sparklylandflaplawyer​ - @charbkgo​ - @airwaveee​ - @creativedogs​ - @kaitlyn2907​ - @loxbbg​ - @afuckingunicornn​ - @fleurmoon​ - @yeolliedokai​

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[princehrry-writings]

Daddy?

happy Easter if you celebrate it!! I've been working on this for a couple weeks!! It's the longest one-shot I think I've ever written.

word count: 5180

please please please flood my inbox with your thoughts and comments!! i want to know what you think!!!

warnings: some swearing (i think), absent birth father, single mom, nothing too serious.

“And who might this be?” He said softly, hoping that he wouldn’t frighten her.

“Tell Harry your name baby,” Y/n brushed a stray piece of hair away from her daughter's face who shied away behind her mom’s leg.

“Stella,” the little girl mumbled, fidgeting with the jeans she hid behind. He felt his heart flutter. She was just so freakin cute.

“It’s lovely to meet you Stella, m’Harry!”

“You talk funny.” The child said, making Harry laugh and Y/n gasp, scolding her daughter for being rude while trying not to laugh at her blunt comment.

“Stella Rose, that was not a very nice thing to say!” Y/n softly reprimanded.

“Sowwy Hawwy,” He chuckled, letting her know he forgave her.

or

Y/n is a single mom and Harry wants to be a part of the family.

.

.

.

Getting pregnant was definitely not something Y/n wanted to be doing at 20 years old. She had a boyfriend and the career of her dreams but as soon as the news broke, one of those things was no longer true. Her ex skipped town faster than she could even finish telling him she was pregnant, so Y/n was left to her own devices since her family was so far away.

She was a songwriter. She had worked with all the big names in the industry from Taylor Swift to All Time Low. She was known for being able to write in any genre, that’s what set her apart and why people were clawing at the chance to work with her.

And then she got pregnant. She kept writing songs until she was eight and a half months along but due to minor complications, her doctor had ordered her to stay home. So she did. She stayed home, had the baby, and raised her all by herself. Now that baby, whose name is Stella, is four years old and is traveling the world with her mom. Y/n had gone back to work when Stella was a year old. At first, she would leave her baby with a sitter, but eventually, she got to a point where Stella was old enough to come along to writing sessions and quietly color or play with toys in a corner. She really liked going to work with her mom. She got to see a bunch of cool places and meet a lot of nice people.

And one of those people was Harry Styles. Y/n had met him a few times back when he was with One Direction, had even tried to work with the band a few times but things never lined up right. But now he was making his second studio album and only wanted the best of the best to write with him so naturally, he called Y/n. Harry knew she had a kid but he didn’t expect her to bring said kid to a writing session. Harry didn’t really mind- he loves kids, but his friends had been known to curse a lot and he didn’t want to cause any harm to the child.

He made sure to give everyone a stern talking to, even though Kid already knew to hold his tongue (his little ones had repeated some colorful words a few times). He wanted everything to go right, needed it to. Y/n was more than just another songwriter.

“Y/n! I’m so glad you could make it!” Harry smiled as she walked into the studio. She smiled back, walking into his open arms for a hug.

“Thank you so much for having me, I’m super stoked to be working with you!” She said, slightly muffled by his neck. Harry looked down behind Y/n and saw a little girl that looked exactly like the woman currently in his arms looking right back up at him. When the two pulled away Harry was quick to kneel down to her height.

“And who might this be?” He said softly, hoping that he wouldn’t frighten her.

“Tell Harry your name baby,” Y/n brushed a stray piece of hair away from her daughter's face who shied away behind her mom’s leg.

“Stella,” the little girl mumbled, fidgeting with the jeans she hid behind. He felt his heart flutter. She was just so freakin cute.

“It’s lovely to meet you Stella, m’Harry!”

“You talk funny.” The child said, making Harry laugh and Y/n gasp, scolding her daughter for being rude while trying not to laugh at her blunt comment.

“Stella Rose, that was not a very nice thing to say!” Y/n softly reprimanded.

“Sowwy Hawwy,” He chuckled, letting her know he forgave her. Although he wasn’t mad, he understood Y/n had to teach her not to say things like that even if they were funny.

When Stella had settled at a table out of the way of the adults in the room with her coloring book and a juice box, the work began. Y/n and Harry sat at a piano bench ( he hoped she couldn’t hear his pounding heart) while Kid and Mitch, along with Jeff, sat scattered around the other furniture in the studio.

“So, I have a couple of ideas that I’ve been sitting on that I think you might like. You can look through this and see if there's something that catches your eye.” Y/n said, handing Harry a notebook. She tried to ignore the tingle she felt run up her arm when their fingers brushed. He flipped around the pages, noticing random little doodles in the corners and in between lines, and the somewhat messy but readable handwriting. He thought it was cute how she connected her s’s to her t’s and k’s when she wrote.

One page, in particular, caught his attention.

Golden, Golden, Golden

As I open my eyes

Hold it, focus

So you take me back to the light

I know you were way too bright for me

I’m hopeless, broken

So you wait for me in the sky

Brown my skin just right

“Is this a verse or a chorus?” He asked, pointing it out to her. She shrugged saying she didn’t really know yet but it would probably be a verse.

“I like it a lot,” He said and she smiled, picking up her guitar and strumming it to the tune she had thought of for the words. He listened and nodded along, already getting ideas for where to go next.

“I like the golden thing. I think that could be a good hook, something like we’re so golden,” Kid spoke up, tapping his fingers along to what she was playing.

“Or you’re so golden,” Mitch suggested. Harry and Y/n’s eyes widened at the same time, both looking up at each other when they heard the line.

“You’re so golden, you’re so golden…” Y/n hummed.

“I’m out of my head, and I know what you said about hearts get broken,”

“How about I’m out of my head and I know that you’re scared because hearts get broken,”

“I like that better, yeah!” Harry smiled, nodding along to the beat.

Y/n looked over 30 minutes later to see Stella had sprawled out on the floor with her arms folded beneath her head, first finger stuck into her mouth, and she smiled, breathing out a laugh.

“She’s so precious,” Harry murmured from beside you. Your gaze found his and the smile on your face widened a little bit.

“She is, isn’t she.” She said, pride present in her eyes.

“Looks just like you as well,”

“Yeah thank god, I don’t know what I would have done if she had ended up looking like her sperm donor,” Malice dripped from the end of her phrase. Y/n couldn’t even entertain the idea of her looking like the man who helped create her. That nerve was still a little raw, not because she had any remaining feelings, but because he had abandoned not only her but the beautiful baby girl who was napping not 15 feet away from her. She figured they were better off without him, yet her heart always shattered a little when Stella asked if she had a daddy like the people she sees on tv.

“I couldn’t imagine finding out the woman I loved was pregnant and then leaving her, any real man would have stayed.” His eyes were genuine, which she appreciated. Most people would say they felt sorry for her, pity dripping from their gaze, but she didn’t need pity, didn’t need people to feel sorry for her. But what Harry said was out of pity, he just honestly couldn’t understand how anyone would abandon a child.

“Yeah well, I guess I just wasn’t the woman he loved.” She said, looking back at her baby. Stella made all of that pain from when he disappeared worth it.

Harry wanted to be able to take that pain away.

---

“Hey I know it’s late, but I have this idea and I want you to hear it,” Harry’s raspy voice chimed through the speaker of Y/n’s phone. She glanced at the time, reading 1:30 AM, and sighed.

“Ok,”

“Come open the door,” He said.

“Wait what? You’re here?”

“Yeah, come on. It’s cold out here.”

“Ugh, hold on,” The woman sighed, hanging up and tip-toeing out of her room so her footsteps wouldn’t wake the sleeping four-year-old in the next room over. Her door was open and she was a light sleeper.

The door swung open and Harry stood there with a small smile on his face, burrowing as deep into his coat as he could to shield himself from the cold air outside.

“Hi!” His cheeky smile made Y/n’s heart flutter.

This was the first of many times he would show up at her place in the middle of the night.

---

Another night of Harry coming over late with a song idea he couldn’t wait to show Y/n, although now it was more he would come over after Stella fell asleep and the two would watch movies and talk, and sometimes write songs (even though the album was done).

The pair were perched on the couch in a heated conversation about whether or not pineapple belongs on pizza (it does and that is a fact not an opinion) when the sound of little footsteps caught their attention. They both looked up from where they sat at the sound of loud crying coming down the stairs, seeing a small child with tears barreling down her face, cheeks flush an angry red, first finger stuck in her mouth, teddy bear clutched tightly to her chest.

“Baby what’s wrong?” Y/n cooed, getting up and sweeping her into her arms. She went and sat back down on the couch, cradling the baby to her chest, brushing her hair out of her face, and rocking her back and forth.

“Scawwy dweam mommy,” She hiccuped into her mom’s neck, where she hid her face. Her tiny hands clutched onto her shirt, finger stick tucked between her lips.

Harry held back a coo at the little girl, feeling himself fall further and further for the little family of two sitting before him. He hadn’t been able to take his mind off of them since that first day he met Stella. He’d always had a schoolboy crush on Y/n since they first met all those years ago but knew it was one-sided when she introduced her boyfriend one of the last times they had seen each other. As fate would have it though, they found their way back to each other. Neither of them could deny the feelings they held, but Y/n was scared to bring someone into the picture because she didn’t want Stella to get attached to someone who wouldn’t be permanent. She was lucky her ex left before he ever got the chance to meet Stella, the kid had no clue what she was missing, therefore didn’t have any pain due to her absent father.

She would be lying if she said she didn’t imagine Harry stepping into that role. But she couldn’t ask that of him. He was at a time in his career where he didn’t have time to be the father of a four year old.

But life is full of surprises.

“Hawwy.” The baby whimpered and crawled off of Y/n’s chest, into his lap and snuggled her head right into him like it was where she was meant to be all along. His heart just about burst when the little girl fisted his shirt, tucking herself into him. His arms instinctively wrapped around her, cradling her into him and rocking her back and forth like her mother had been only moments ago.

Stella calms down almost immediately, to Y/n’s surprise. It usually takes her a while to console her baby from bad dreams, but all Harry had to do was hold her, and boom, no more tears.

“You alright petal?” He cooed into her hair, soothing his hand up and down her back to keep her calm. She nodded, letting out a huge yawn and closing her eyes, falling back asleep in his arms.

Y/n was astonished. Stella had never fallen asleep on anyone but her mom or her grandmother. She’s known Harry for a few months and was acting like he’d been there her whole life.

“Wow… she loves you.” Y/n whispered, not really meaning for him to hear but he did and his smile gave her the impression that he loved her too. But Stella wasn’t the only one he felt such affections for.

“Y/n....” He starts after a moment of silence, “I know this sounds crazy because we’ve only truly known each other for a few months… but I’ve had feelings for you for years. I missed my opportunity when you got with your ex but I’m here now, and I love you, and I love Stella, and I would do anything to stay in both of your lives if you’d have me. I want to be here for you, and I want to be here for her as well.” His confession shocked the woman sitting across from him.

Y/n was quiet, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought while she took in what he was saying. Trying her best to keep her fantasies of playing house with him at bay, she spoke.

“Harry, as much as all of that sounds lovely, you’re about to start press for the album and then go on tour. You’re not gonna have time to be in a relationship, and as much as I wish I could just jump into something like that, I can’t. I have her to think about…” She gestured to the toddler sleeping on him.

“She needs consistency, her life is already hectic enough.”

“So come with me!” He spouted, and then retracted a bit realizing he could wake Stella up.

“What?”

“Come with me! You two travel around already, so come on the press tour with me and then come on the big tour with me! I know this sounds impulsive and it’s probably the craziest thing I’ve ever said in my life ever, but I’ve never been more sure of anything. I know what I want Y/n, and that’s to be a part of this family. I want to be a part of your lives!”

“Harry, I-”

“Please Y/n. Give me a chance! I won’t let you down!” The gleam in his eyes shows her that he’s serious. He really does want this. Harry just hopes that Y/n can see just how willing he is, how much it would mean to him to have (what he already affectionately considers to be) his girls with him on tour.

It’s quiet, only sounds of Stella’s even breaths and the light noise of her sucking on her finger fill the room. Eventually, Y/n gathers her thoughts, mind made up.

“We’ll try it out… see how it goes….” She said, releasing a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding on to. Harry’s smile grew tenfold at her confession, reaching over and bringing her face closer to his to kiss her lips, careful not to wake the baby in his arms.

He had never been happier, Harry decides, than he is right now.

---

“Hawwy?” Stella’s voice catches Y/n’s attention from where she sits on the plane, in between her and Harry. She turns her little head to the man sitting in the aisle seat, big round eyes staring right into his.

“What is it, lovebug?” He asks, pushing her wild baby hairs away from her eyes. Y/n did her very best not to coo at the two of them. Harry had fallen perfectly into step with the mother and daughter, like this duo had been a trio all along. She was still hesitant to think of him as a father figure for Stella though, just because if things went south somehow, she didn’t want her baby suffering a loss like that (a second time).

Stella’s little fists rubbed at her tired eyes. She let out a small ‘hmph’ and laid her head on Harry’s arm, wrapping her own little arms around his.

“Awe you my daddy?” She asked and Y/n choked on her spit, looking back over at the toddler.

“Stella, baby-”

“I would love to be your daddy lovebug, but that’s not really up to me…” He spoke and glanced up at Y/n quickly, trepidation clear in his eyes. Harry was afraid he might overstep. Sure he knew that things were still new between him and Y/n but he wanted nothing more than for Stella to think of him as her dad.

“Who’s it up to?” Y/n could tell she was about to fall asleep but was fighting it in order to get her answers. She had adjusted to a more fast pace schedule quite nicely. She slept through most plane and car rides and absolutely loved being backstage at concerts. Harry thought she looked so adorable with her big noise-canceling headphones on. They had been on the road for a few months now, and it had been 8 months since Y/n decided to give him a chance.

“It’s up to mummy, baby.” He answered, his fingers tangling into his chestnut curls in a futile attempt to keep them out of his face.

Stella’s head immediately whipped to look at her mom, who sat frozen in her seat, not knowing what to do.

“Mommy, is Hawwy my daddy?” She repeated her question. Y/n had a feeling that Stella thought Harry was her real dad, the one that her mom didn’t like to talk about. She had to make sure there was no confusion.

“Not like you're thinking he is, baby. He’s not your birth dad, he didn’t help mommy make you, but if you want him to be your daddy, then that’s ok with me.” Y/n locked eyes with the man sitting across from her with a smile on his face. She was glad that they were flying private because she really didn’t need anyone ruining this moment for them. All her fears of this not working out felt stupid now.

How could she ever think that things with Harry wouldn’t work out? He was right where he belonged.

---

“Daddy!”

“Baby!” Harry knelt down to catch the running (almost) 5 year old, picking her up and spinning her around in his arms. They were in England for two weeks on tour. One for shows, and one so that Y/n and Stella could meet Harry’s mom and sister for the first time as a part of the family. Y/n had met them before as “a friend of Harry’s” many years ago, but they had never met her as Harry’s girlfriend, and they hadn’t met Stella.

Currently, Harry was in the middle of a show and Stella had just escaped her mothers arms side stage in favor of running to her dad. Y/n still couldn’t get over saying that. Harry is Stella’s dad. She doesn’t think that will ever get old.

No one knew how serious the relationship between Y/n and Harry was. The public knew they were together (after a very vague post on instagram of the mother/daughter duo napping with the caption “my girls”). Many people thought this was a PR stunt, just because it was so unlike Harry to post something like that. But he had actually confirmed in an interview that, yes, he was in a relationship with the songwriter and it was pretty serious. That was all he chose to say, in favor of keeping his secrecy, as he so famously loves to do.

What came as a shock to the audience was what the child had called Harry. They all knew about Stella, obviously, but no one would have thought that this child would think of him as her father. A lot of people didn’t like thinking about Harry being a father.

“What are you doing out here baby?” He said into her ear, making sure he could hear her over the loud noise of the audience. Most of them loved getting glimpses into his life, so the crowd was excited to see Stella out on stage and many thought it was adorable that she already thought of him as her dad.

“Missed you.” She said into his neck. The microphone had somehow picked up their little exchange and the whole crowd sighed a collective “awe” when she said that. She was perched on his hip with her little arms wrapped around his neck, her favorite place if she had to choose one. She was pretty small for a 4-year-old, most people usually thought she was younger.

Harry chuckled and saw Y/n standing there with a smile on her face. Mitch was giggling at the exchange and kept glancing back at Sarah with a knowing look of “That’s going to be us soon,” written on his face.

“I missed you too lovebug, but I’m in the middle of a show! I gotta send you back to mumma.” He said. Stella didn’t like that though, because as soon as the words left his lips she was clinging to him like he was her life force and the tears began streaming down her face. She didn’t like having to share her daddy. She just wanted to be held by him right now, and she’d be damned if she got anything but her way.

This amused everyone, the child's insistence to be in her father's arms, so he sighed and bent to her will because how could he say no to his baby girl?

So he walked over to her mom and got her headphones, slipping them on her, and walked back to his microphone with her on his hip, ready to start the next song.

“Harry and Stella” was trending on twitter the very next morning. No one could get enough of the father-daughter duo.

---

Y/n hadn’t been this nervous since she was about to give birth to Stella. She stood with her baby in her arms as Harry opened the door to his childhood home, announcing to his mom and sister that they were there. She had to wipe her sweaty palms on her jeans more than once.

Anne rushed out from wherever she had been, greeting the three of them. Stella had met Anne via FaceTime many times so it was not news to her (or Gemma) that Harry had stepped into the role of Stella’s father. She will admit she was surprised at first but then she was reminded that Harry had been in their lives for almost a year before Stella had asked the question. It wasn’t something that was rushed into.

Anne was very excited to be meeting her grandbaby and was very excited to meet the girl that had made her a grandmother.

Stella got shy, not being used to seeing “Nana” in person. Gemma had emerged from her spot in the kitchen as well, greeting everyone.

“Hello, my loves! How was the trip?” Anne said, kissing both of them on the cheek, her hand gently caressing the child's cheek in an attempt to get her out of her shell. Once she realized that this was her Nana that was standing before her, Stella reached out for Anne, silently asking to be held by her. Anne jumped at the chance, sweeping the baby into her arms and giving her a big hug, kissing her on the forehead multiple times, not being able to quell her affection for her first grandchild.

“It was good mum, Stell slept the whole way and traffic was pretty light,” Harry said, slipping his hand into his girlfriend’s, brushing his thumb back and forth trying to help calm her anxieties. For whatever reason, Y/n was worried that Gemma and Anne wouldn’t like her because she had come into their son/brother's life with a child, but it was clear that the two ladies loved the idea of Harry being Stella’s father.

“Oh, that's lovely!” She smiled, cuddling Stella impossibly closer to her. Y/n felt most of her worries melt away seeing the woman with her baby.

She felt silly for thinking Anne would be anything but happy.

---

Anne would not put Stella down for anything. The two were attached at the hip every waking second. Y/n was actually starting to miss her baby, but she appreciated getting to spend time with Harry without having to keep an eye on their little one. Gemma was absolutely smitten with Stella as well. She was very excited to be “Auntie Gem” as Stella had quickly adapted to calling her. Stella was very happy as well. She had never been around so much family in her whole life. She’d been so used to just her and her mom, and then just them and Harry, but now she had two whole grandma’s all to herself and an auntie she gets to call her own, something she never knew she was missing, that Y/n never thought her baby would get to have.

Harry was so happy to see his baby with Anne and Gemma. They had been bumped to spot number 3 and 4 on his favorite girl list, with Stella and Y/n taking spots 1 and 2. They didn’t mind one bit.

“Daddy, can we watch a movie?” Stella jumped up onto his lap as he and Y/n sat on the couch, just talking and enjoying each other's company. Y/n smiled at the girl, tightening her grip around Harry’s shoulders, resting her head in the crook of his neck.

“Of course we can lovebug! Go get Nana and auntie Gem and we’ll all pick one out together!” He replied, petting her wild baby hairs out of her eyes just like he always did.

“Auntie Gemma said to ask you if we could watch…” She paused for a second, her little finger tapping on her chin like she couldn’t remember what she was gonna say. Suddenly, she was up and running back to the hallway she had just come from. Y/n and Harry heard little whispers before she came running back out and plopped back onto Harry’s lap, on ‘oof’ erupting from him.

“This Is Us!” She finally said. Harry’s face dropped as he looked behind them to see Gemma standing there, trying to hold back her laughter. Y/n just started cackling and Stella was giggling even though she had no idea what was going on.

“Daddy’s in that movie baby,” Y/n finally calmed down enough to say to her daughter. The little one’s eyes lit up, her hands clasped underneath her chin. This was what she did when she wanted her daddy to say yes to her because she knew he couldn’t resist how adorable she was.

“Please please please!!!!!!” She whined, leaning in to place her forehead against Harry’s. She knew exactly how to get him. He caved every single time.

“Yeah, fine. We can watch it!” He finally said and all three girls cheered. Anne came in at the noise wondering what was going on.

“What’s all this?” She asked and Stella ran up to her, pulling on her

“We watching Daddy’s movie Nana!” She said, jumping up and down with a glowing beam on her face.

“Oh, are we now? Which one?” Anne asked and Stella paused.

“Daddy, how many movies awe you in?” She came back and crawled into his lap. She still had trouble saying her r’s. Her and Harry were working on it.

“Two, lovebug. But one of them you can’t watch until you’re older. It’s too scary f’you.” He said, cuddling his baby into his chest. She put on a little pout hearing that. She didn’t like when her daddy told her no, but this was something he wasn’t gonna budge on.

“Ok,” She sighed. All the adults thought this was adorable.

So they all settled in and watched the movie. Harry had a permanent blush on his face and Stella would jump up and down every time he was on the screen.

“Nana look!! That’s you!!” Anne laughed and nodded to her granddaughter.

“Yes, it is baby!”

“Mommy, why aren’t you in this movie?” She asked and everyone giggled.

“Me and Daddy didn’t know each other very well back then, baby.” Y/n laughed. Stella didn’t really understand but she didn’t say anything else.

The last few days had worn her out and that became very obvious when Harry looked down and saw his baby asleep on his chest, her first finger stuck in her mouth just like it always was when she fell asleep.

“Love, I’m gonna go lay her down, and then I’ll be right back,” Harry whispered, cradling the sleeping girl in his arms and slowly standing up. Y/n nodded, kissing his cheek before he left.

“He’s so good with her!” Gemma cooed, her face lighting up seeing her brother with his kid. A sight she was still kind of getting used to seeing.

“He really is…” Y/n smiled, “It was pretty instant too. Anytime he’d come over and she was still awake, he’d insist on putting her to bed, reading to her, singing to her, he’d bring her toys. She’s had him wrapped around her little finger since he first laid eyes on her.”

“That’s so precious,” Anne spoke up, coming to sit next to her, wrapping Y/n in her warm embrace.

“I can’t wait until you two get married!” Y/n laughed at Gemma’s confession, snuggling into Anne.

“All he has to do is ask, I’m ready to say yes!” What none of the girls knew was that Harry was standing right outside the living room, hearing everything that was being said. His mind raced back to his suitcase where a velvet box sat tucked away between all of his clothes.

He was hesitant to bring the idea up because it had only been a year, but the saying when you know, you know he thought.

He came back into the living room, acting none the wiser, sitting on the other side of the girl he was going to marry (she just didn’t know it yet), and cuddled into her just as she had cuddled into his mom.

“Daddy,” A small voice broke through the now quiet hum of the tv.

“Lovebug, what are you doing back up?” He asked, lifting the sleepy little thing into his lap.

“Scawwy dweam, daddy.” She said and he pouted, pulling her closer into his chest and snuggling her back to sleep.

Harry was exactly where he belonged in life. With his baby girl in his arms, and his Love by his side.

[miserablemercury]

secrets

pairing: sapnap x fem!reader

summary: you and sap develop a secret sexual relationship.

warnings: switch!sapnap, switch!reader, smoking, dirty talk, semi-public sex, thigh riding, orgasm denial, humiliation kink, degradation kink, pet names, oral (m!receiving), spit kink, drunk sex, pain kink, daddy kink

word count: 1.8k

smut under the cut

you can still remember when it started.

at first, a lingering glance or two while you were with friends. then subtle touches sometimes, always leaving you wanting more. a sly comment, a sexual joke, a teasing lilt.

the first time you did anything, though, was at a party at his house. everyone else passed out on the couch, the both of you moved to his room, lying on his bed, passing a half-smoked blunt back and forth lazily. chase atlantic flowed softly in the background and you found yourself staring at the way the smoke left his parted lips. no words were shared, but you could feel the energy shift when he sat up on one elbow, looking down at you. the dark purple lights of his room only further blurred your senses until all you could think of were his mouth and how much you wanted it on yours. your heart stopped in your chest as you both leaned in, his breath gently fanning your face as he got closer, then kissing each other, hesitant at first but then with all of the passion and nerves built up over the past several months.

it only escalated from there, and fast, as you quickly discovered your overwhelming need for each other, despite the risk of sneaking around your friend group.

the tension left you a breathless bundle of nerves each time you hung out with the group, silently contemplating how to be near each other without rousing suspicion.

it was no different this time; karl invited the group over to his house for a movie night.

everyone scattered on the floor and chairs, you glanced at sapnap panicked, not knowing where to sit.

“sap, y/n! good to see you! come sit here!” alex nods to the corner of the couch opposite where he rests, except there is only room for sap to sit, and nowhere else comfortable for you to go.

sapnap sits confidently, outstretching his arms and spreading his legs. he smirks as you search for somewhere else to go, silently calling you over with two fingers, first pointed at you, then down at his lap.

heat rushes to your face as you shuffle over, stumbling a bit as he firmly pulls you onto his lap, securing you in place with an arm around your waist. he pulls a blanket over the two of you, pushing you down and forcefully opening your legs so you’re sitting directly on his thigh. you squirm nervously but he only tightens his grip before leaning in your ear and whispering low enough so only you can hear, “you like that, don’t you, kitten?” you can hear the smirk in his voice and hate that he’s right as the wetness between your legs grows to be unbearable.

the combination of the pressure on your lower stomach from his arm, his chest pressing warmly in your back, his breath lightly fanning your neck, his rich musk and cologne, and his lightly bouncing leg make the pleasure too much to stay quiet. his thigh feels so good against your aching sex and you bite your knuckle to try and stop yourself from moaning. you're thankful that the lights are off and no one is really paying attention to you, but the light humiliation of doing something like this when others are around still feels embarrassing, only adding to your nerves.

sap gently but firmly grabs your hips with his hands and moves you backwards so you're further nuzzled in his chest; it would have been comforting if not for the bunched fabric of his shorts now rubbing against you, making you open your legs and lean your head back on his shoulder with a pleasured sigh. just when you felt yourself nearing your finish, sapnap cruelly closes your legs and swings them across his lap, pouting in feigned sympathy at your hurt expression.

"awh, kitten, you didn't really think i'd let you cum that easy?" his mouth forms into a smile, and you swore in that moment you'd get him back.

your opportunity arose the next time the group got together. alex wanted to have a cooking stream with the both of you, and you found yourself fantasizing of all the different ways you would get him alone.

you decided to tease him the minute the camera turned on, not being able to resist his embarrassed expression, and it certainly lived up to your expectations.

"hello chat! today we're doing another cooking stream!" alex says to the camera, waving his hand over the array of ingredients splayed on the table.

"okay, flour first, right?" sap is stood next to you, and you reach past him for the bag of flour, brushing against his chest and leaning forward, giving him full view to your panties as your skirt lifts up a bit.

you hear him inhale sharply and you hide a smirk as you continue with the stream.

the three of you laugh at your own ridiculousness as you somehow manage to create a cake mass of chocolate and dough, frosted meticulously as if it would fall apart any minute.

"all right chat, should we do a taste test?" alex struggles to cut a piece and tries it for the chat.

you swipe a finger along the top, collecting a bit of frosting, then making eye contact with sap as you suck it off, batting your eyelashes. his face reddens and he gulps as his eyes trail down your body.

alex remains completely unaware as he jokes to the chat and wraps up the stream.

the second the camera turns off, the flushed boy next to you takes your wrist and says to alex, "i have to use the bathroom. y/n, you know where that is, right?"

you stifle a laugh and ignore alex's confused expression as you're whisked away to the bathroom, watching sapnap fumble to lock the door.

you step toward him slowly, drinking in every moment.

you lean toward his reddened face, taking him in a messy kiss. before he can take control of the situation, you say: "can't wait until we're alone, huh? needy boy," you smirk before licking a wet stripe up his neck, sinking to your knees and praying he stays quiet.

you unbuckle his belt, staring up at his nervous face before taking him in your mouth. he instinctually tangles a hand in your hair and you let him; he pulls it harder as a couple moans escape from his throat when he's about to finish, rushing to put his palm against his mouth in embarrassment. you admire his flushed face and blissful yet guilty expression, but remember your mission, and slide his cock from your wet mouth, getting up from the floor.

"that's what you get for teasing me." a devious smile makes its way across your lips as you wipe his precum from your face; his furrowed brow and pathetic look reassured you that this was definitely worth it.

and yet you secretly hoped he would punish you for it.

which is why when he threw a big get-together at his place, you were nothing short of anxious and scattered. before you knew it your mind was racing, fantasizing of all the things sap would do to you, and with a ton of people over, no less.

the night passed in an agonizing blur until everyone was pretty drunk, the lights dim and rap playing through a speaker.

the group sitting on the couch in the living room, you make your way to the kitchen to refill your cup. leaning your elbows on the counter, your eyes trail over the array of alcohol, trying to decide just how drunk you wanted to be tonight.

you hadn't noticed sapnap enter until he cleared his throat.

"interesting outfit choice, y/n," he sucks his teeth. you chose a short, form-fitting silk dress for the occasion; of course he commented on it, that was your intent after all.

"do you like it?" you feign innocence, making your way over to him and placing your hands flat against his chest.

he looks down at you with a fire growing in his gaze, finally meeting your eyes. he nods his head towards the stairs, a demand rather than a question.

you giddily follow him to his room, watching him lock the door.

"the first place we ever fooled around, huh?" your smirk is short lasting as you notice the stern look on sapnap's face.

"sit down."

you obey without a second thought as he walks over to you, grabbing your jaw in his large hand.

"open."

you listen still, and your growing arousal only worsens when he cruelly spits in your open mouth, telling you to swallow.

you submit in silence as he pulls you up for a heated wet kiss before pushing you back on the bed and flipping you over. you feel him lift up the end of your dress and exhale a short laugh at your thin, lace lingerie.

"god, you're such a slut, y/n," he smacks your exposed ass, causing you to let out a whimper muffled by the bed sheets.

he leans down by your ear and confirms your consent before roughly pulling your panties down to your knees and starting to fuck you from behind.

your attempts to quiet your moans are useless.

the sound and smell of sex fill his darkened room; the feeling of him roughly thrusting in and out of you is more pleasurable than you can bear. you know it's good but you're just so sensitive you can't help but squirm under his touch.

a large hand tangles in your hair and pulls it back, lifting your head from the sheets.

with a strangled moan, you say, "oh my god, harder, daddy, please."

you had never called anyone this before, but it just felt so fitting. it certainly fueled his ego enough to let out a moan and grip your hair even tighter.

his hands roam your body, smacking your ass harder this time, leaving a red mark, and moving to your throat, harshly pulling you up so your back is flush against him.

"who's making you feel this good?" he mutters in your ear through gritted teeth.

"f-fuck! you are, you are, daddy, no one but you."

"that's what i thought. don't forget who's in charge here, huh?"

he pants and lets out a throaty moan as he finishes inside of you, you following a moment later.

you can't conceal your pleasured mewls as he pulls your panties back up and kisses you slowly, not nearly as mean as before.

you relish in the come down as you and sapnap rejoin the group downstairs, trying to be discreet.

alex, with a face red from alcohol, upon the sight of the pair of you in the doorway, lets out a laugh.

"next time you fuck, wait until we're gone, alright?"

[velvetcloxds]

LOVER | B.B.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Requested by: @fairydxll

Word count: 1.2k

Warning: none really just fluff, little dialogue heavy as always

Summary: Bucky helps you make your little apartment feel more festive before your parents come to visit on Christmas

A/n: Part four of my Taylor Swift song fics series, also the first time writing a full fic for Bucky since 2016 so please go easy on me- I've always loved the idea of calling him James and him sticking to old petnames so that's definitely in here <3

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“Doll,” Bucky called as he walked through the front door, one hand carrying the bags of groceries while the other gripped the list you’d given him before he left. “Now, I think I’ve gotten everything, almost everything, neither I nor the grocery store helper could figure out what on earth this third line said,” he laughed, pausing in his steps when he saw you huffing about in the living room, lamp in one hand and a scatter pillow in the other as you shook your head to remove a strand of fallen hair from your vision.

“James,” you sighed, out of breath from your fiddling as you narrowed your eyes at your boyfriend. “You’re finally home.”

“I am,” he noted, carefully placing the groceries on the counter before meeting your gaze once again. “Though, it does quite look like we’re moving out, rather than in,” he mused, and you’d have rolled your eyes at him if you weren’t so nervous about the whole ordeal that laid ahead of you.

Your parents had met Bucky a few weeks after you started dating, and though they loved him, they had a sense of objection to you moving into the avengers’ tower when you could be starting a life together. This objection had been shared between the both of you as well, Bucky wanting a place to call home that didn’t involve missions and politics- he wanted comfort and though half of it came from you, the other half would come from the future the two of you would build together. The little loft you’d moved into had quite quickly become exactly that, having been filled as time passed, decorations and furniture being picked up as the need arose, the last of which being Christmas decorations, the fact very evident as you both stood in the festively lacking room.

“It’s December,” you informed him, not at all aiding in easing his confusion as he offered you a careful nod to continue. “My parents are coming over for Christmas, but it doesn’t look like Christmas in here, James, looks like November or something and we don’t have anything to decorate with,” Bucky hummed in reply, acknowledging your frustration as he carefully made his way towards you, gentle hands ridding you of the pillow and lamp you’d been gripping onto.

“Alright, if I remember correctly, there are some Christmas lights in one of the boxes we’re storing for Sam, so we can start there for now, maybe tomorrow we can stop by the little store on the corner and see if there’s anything else there, how does that sound?” you nodded, smiling at how nimble his voice was, his actions of trying to calm you not going unnoticed as his metal arm surrounded your waist.

“You forget, however, how much you despise the lights in question,” you reminded him with a soft smirk, hands mimicking his as you squeezed his waist lightly.

“I don’t despise them,” he objected, faux certainty on his face as he spared you a kiss to your forehead, still shaking his head in mock objection as he abandoned you to go fetch the box he was talking about, smiling once he was back in your presence. “I find the idea of putting them up now and taking them off right after Christmas a little mundane, is all.”

“Oh no, mundane tasks are below this super soldier, hmm,” you mused, helping him remove the lights from the box, Bucky’s eyes narrowing for a split second before he started untangling the wires.

“You mock me, doll, but it’ll be me balancing on a chair the morning of the twenty-sixth trying to get these off, not you.”

“You want to know a little secret, my love,” you prompted, smiling when you shifted the lights in your hand just enough to untangle them completely. “We can leave the Christmas lights up until January,” you giggled at the little shock he painted on for your amusement.

“What about the rules, hmm, the Christmas rules?” he was amused now, knowing that more than anything, the silly little moments he used to believe to be pointless, were the moments you held closest to your heart.

“It’s our place, we make the rules,” you replied, a carefree smile dancing over your lips as you watched him, his actions, though simple, making your body fill with warmth.

“Hmm,” he hummed, and you realized that much like many times before, the little sentiment was a reminder of a new beginning, a new life, he’d been many men before, been part of many stories, but the one he was writing with you- that was the one that would make it all worth it. “Hand me the chair, doll,” it was the little wink that made you smile as you retrieved the chair without thought.

“Where are you going to put them?”

“Across the arch,” he noted, taking hold of the hand pointlessly held out to assist him in his climb onto the wooden chair, hand clutching the lights as he looked up at the arch separating the living room from your bedroom.

“That’s not where they go.”

“Says who? Thought we make the rules now?” he laughed, and you allowed him to continue, the little song his lips were humming, making your smile grow even wider.

Minutes had passed, Bucky making slow progress as he embarked on his attempt to create a little scene of perfection for his girl. You were shamelessly adoring him, watching his every move, registering every little sigh and silent nod of agreement when an idea worked, he was doing nothing at all and yet completely captivating you. There was a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about him. He was yours, your future, your story- as much as you were his everything, he was yours in twofold. You’d go wherever he goes, forever.

“Hey James,” you nearly whispered as you pushed yourself away from the counter you’d been leaning against, a little sound of acknowledgment leaving his mouth as he remained lost in the motions of his fingers. “I love you,” he paused, furrowed brows as he stared down at you.

“I love you too, doll. Where’s that coming from?”

“Just getting all sentimental seeing you up there, being all domestic,” you admitted, stilling next to him to get hold of his free hand. “Thinking about how all's well that ends well to end up with you,” you mumbled, and he scoffed softly, gentle features watching you place a loving kiss to the metal digits as they folded around your hand.

"This is only the beginning, Y/n," he informed you as he gave your hand a little squeeze. "My little lover, hmm, wait until you see me making you dinner, might get a wedding proposal out of you yet," he mused and the laughter that filled the room would be but one moment of thousands to come.