#anyway remember to ALWAYS be constructive with criticism

[theskysungqueen]

Netflix Avatar writers if you're reading these here's some things you might want (need) to improve on in the next two seasons!

The dialogue. Please just use dialogue from the original show or improve on yours 'cause the audience does not need to be reminded of what the characters are going through with EVERY line they have, subtlety is key and some of the dialogue actually works! Some. Most of it does the characters a disservice

speaking of characters, you have the hang of Zuko and Iroh and Aang just needs to be more avoidant, but Sokka could benefit from allowing Ian to joke around and act like himself, Kiawentiio as Katara as well. Maybe direct them to be more expressive in their facials, contort their expressions more and move their eyebrows (I notice this is a thing in both Gordon and Dallas' acting styles and it's actually an effective way to translate facials from the cartoon)

Let Katara be both motherly and petty!!! soft introvert Katara is cute but like someone said, her anger is so central to her character and for the eventual Southern Raiders arc to work, she needs to BE angry and passionate! WRITE her that way!

Avoid another mishmash of storylines like the Omashu/Mechanist/Jet arc and the Hei Bai/Roku/Blue Spirit arc, it drags on too long. Unless it can be worked into a more coherent and well paced storyline, please, don't

fix your depiction of the spirit world please don't make it like Korra where everything is bright and vivid, Aang's Spirit World reflected the state of the world in the middle of war and that's why everything was under saturated and murky

Make Azula calmer and sneakier, not openly expressive. Again, this isn't the actor's fault, it's how she's written!

Less exposition more visuals

and that's about it unless people have things to add, thank you

[seapiglet]

The only way I would've accepted seeing pre-fall Crowley and Aziraphale together is if they were like in the Heaven cafeteria, Crowley complaining to a celestial dinnerlady that the lunch options all look bad ("the food hadn't been that good lately"), while Aziraphale walks by in the other direction, needlessly worrying about something. Neither notices the other. They were this close and yet!

Perhaps Aziraphale and another angel are even discussing some rumour about angels starting to ask questions of The Almighty and expresses concern.

Keep in the "how much trouble can I get into for asking a few questions?" or whatever from Crowley but have it be with the disgruntled dinnerlady or one of Lucifer's crew he was presumably hanging out with. Show one of these soon-to-be-cast-out angels casually mentioning to him that they're thinking of bringing up a few of their concerns to "the boss" and would he be interested? It's worth a shot after all. What harm could it to?

Just anything to make it less fucking needlessly dramatic and serious.

[ittybittytoasty]

wanted to be brave and share more poetry this year

[gloomygumi]

quirks - satoru gojo x gn!reader

summary: part two︱you like to think you’re aware of all of satoru’s quirks, but shoko thinks you may have missed a few.

contents: fluff, newly realised feelings, highschool!gojo, he's honestly not even actually there for a lot of it, shoko and geto are tho, honestly a little bit of whipped gojo, probably ooc but definitely self indulgent

word count: 1.2k

a/n: how are we coping since 236 guys ????? wrote this feeling like i’d been widowed so i guess this counts as my coping mechanism 😭 hope you enjoy anyway, constructive criticism and any ideas or opinions you have are always welcome !!

in your past year of knowing satoru gojo, you’d made a note of his multiple quirks.

you noticed how when the group of second years went out to eat together at the weekends, he would whine about how good everyone else’s food looks until everyone at the table took pity (or annoyance, in suguru’s case) and spooned some of their meal onto his plate.

you noticed how when he was in class, listening to yaga drone on about the different types of curses, he would never let all of the legs of his chair rest on the ground. he was constantly swinging back and forth. it’s a miracle that he’s never fallen back, you think.

you even noticed how he somehow kept a momento from every single hangout and mission, each of them stored in a little wooden box he kept on his bedside table back in the dorms. in the past, you’d seen him slide seemingly worthless ticket stubs and receipts into his pockets, and when the curiosity finally got the better of you and you asked what he did with them, you only received a cheeky grin and a wink from your friend.

so, when shoko finally told you some of her own observations of his behaviours and habits during your lunch break one day, it’s safe to say it shocked you.

“i think it’s pretty obvious that he likes you.” she speaks casually, as if her words hadn’t caused you to choke on your own food. she passes you her bottle of water and pats your back. “you couldn’t tell?”

after gulping down half of her water, and spluttering a few times, you finally found your voice, letting out a strangled “he’s my friend - he does not like me like that!”

the look shoko gives you is one of ridicule, but before she can say anything else, you quickly continue.

“how’d you even come to that conclusion anyway, you’re not usually much of a gossip. that’s suguru’s job." you attempt to joke, but you feel the strained smile drop from your face as the boy you mentioned approaches the table and plops down beside your friend.

speak of the devil...

you see shoko's eyes light up, but before you can even attempt to cut her off again, she turns to suguru. "geto! back me up here, isn't it so obvious that gojo likes (y/n)?"

"mhm." he hums, barely even acknowledging the fact that his confirmation has sent you spiraling for the second time. "he's not exactly subtle about it."

"you guys are being ridiculous."

now it's suguru's turn to look at you like you've suddenly grown two heads. "you really didn't know?"

shoko lets out a laugh at his genuine confusion, and reaches into her bag to pull out a cigarette. you quickly hand her a lighter you keep on hand just for moments like this and she quietly thanks you before continuing. "have you never noticed how he's always touching you in some way?"

"that's just how he is!" you defend. "he's always hanging off of suguru too!"

the pair in front of you share a look, before geto continues. "what about how he never lets you walk closest to the road?"

you stop for a second, trying to pinpoint an occasion - just one - where he had only to come up empty handed. in fact, the more you think about it, the more sense it makes. you replay your moments walking back to the dorms after class with satoru, with his arm always casually wrapped around your shoulder. you remember how he always looked comfortable and at peace. you even remember how he would gently bump you closer into the sidewalk if you were walking with someone else, sticking his tongue out at you and ruffling your hair if you voiced a complaint at his behaviour.

your mouth dries up as you try to come up with another excuse to brush off your friends' observations, but you start to question yourself.

maybe they're right...?

you shake you head, as if trying to clear your head of these thought. "he does that for everyone, you guys are just reading too much into it."

between drags of her cigarette, shoko chuckles. "he's never done it for me." geto leans forward from his seat across from you and gently flicks in between your eyebrows. your hand immediately clamps down on the spot, and you groan at him. "what was that for!?"

he ignores your dramatics. "why are you so sure that we're lying?"

his genuine question makes you stop to think. it wasn't that you didn't like gojo, in fact, you hadn't dedicated much time to thinking about him in that way at all. your friends being so insistent on the fact that he liked you made you slowly start to realise that maybe you did share some affections for the ill mannered boy.

you continue to mull over as many interactions and memories that you have shared with satoru, slowly connecting the dots in your head. he always was more gentle with you, never polite but always kind. he regularly brought you souvenirs back from missions that you weren't assigned to and he always insisted on sitting next to you on the train home, offering you the window seat every single time.

almost as if they can hear your inner monologue being to spiral, shoko pipes up once more. "he gave you a different ring tone so he'd know every time you call."

you feel your heart stop for a second, unsure as to why this in particular made you finally believe their words, but before you even have the opportunity to dismiss them again (now in an attempt to convince yourself more than them) you feel the seat beside you sink with additional weight and a familiar arm flung around your shoulder. you barely even register the smug smile shoko is flashing you from across the table as you focus on attempting to cool your face.

"i can't believe you guys started eating without me!" satoru whines, leaning even more heavily into your side. he makes quick work of plucking a large chunk of meat out of your bento, sending you a sly grin as you look up at him in dismay. "what were you guys talkin' about?"

suguru meets your eyes, raising his eyebrows as he meets your glare, urging him to shut his mouth. "oh nothing." he hums, before completely changing the subject.

the conversation from moments prior is still fresh in your mind, and you're now very aware of the soft glances gojo keeps sending your way. you suddenly feel a lot more awkward in his presence, and you barely notice how you're fidgeting with your hands under the table and not participating in the conversation anymore.

that is until you feel warm hands grip your own, effectively halting their movement. "you okay?" you can barely hear satoru over the blood pumping in your ears, and you're unaware of the laughs shoko and geto are trying desperately to hold back whilst watching the scene as you try to speak.

you start to wish your friends had kept their observations to themselves.

[matryosika]

Recording Sessions

Pairing — 3racha and Reader

Wordcount — 3,485 words

Genre — Smut

Warnings — Dom!Chan and Changbin, Switch(sub lean)!Jisung, consensual voice recording. Dirty talk, use of petnames (slut), mild humiliation, oral sex (m. receiving), brief spanking, unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, mild cum play, sex in a recording booth.

Autor's note — Wrote this a while ago for a commission, but as I was lurking through my google drive I found this again. I think its fun and I've been meaning to post something for a while now, but I can't get anything done sadly. I think I wrote this back in may or june? I am not too sure, but I hope you like it! I've been writing for NCT these days and I have 2 wips for them. I'm also working on something with Lee Know as a character. I hope I can get any of that finished soon! Hope you enjoy this, and I apologize for any grammar/spelling mistakes in advance 🤍

“Do any of you even know what a real moan sounds like?”

The look on their faces is amusing. Hadn't you been inside the recording booth, you're sure Changbin would have already headlocked you in a playful manner for running your mouth. 

But you are inside the recording booth, the three of them sitting in the studio with frustration written all over their faces.

“This sounds so fake,” you continue, taking off the headset. “What did you type in youtube to get this sample? Women moaning ASMR?”

“You’re not being helpful at all, you know that?” Changbin asks, trying to keep a serious demeanor but failing almost miserably every time he remembers the audio samples that are currently as background vocals in their upcoming song. They do sound awful, but he isn't as straight-forward as you are.

“Well, you asked for my opinion and I’m giving it to you,” the smug look on your face pisses off Chan just a little, but it is nothing new —the endless bickering between the both of you has happened ever since you two met. It's always light-hearted and friendly, but it surely does bring some tension into your friendship with him.

“Any ideas on how we can improve this?” 

“For once, get rid of all the fake moaning and get something that actually sounds like a woman being pleasured,” you instruct them, and smile when you see the three of them paying attention to your words. They have such abilities when it comes to music and producing, but they often look for constructive criticism outside their small group of three just to see things from different perspectives. “We don’t sound like that, it’s more like gasping for air and deep sighs accompanied with mostly quiet moans. This sounds like someone shouting exaggeratedly”.

“I’ve tried,” Chan murmurs, leaning back on his studio chair that he spins slightly. “But nothing sounds right. It’s a bit too much, maybe”.

“No, I do think the song calls for background sounds like these,” you encourage the trio. “It’s just- you need something more raw and real”.

There’s a quick moment of silence in which the four of you exchange glances, without exactly saying anything in particular.

Changbin and Chan look too deep into their own thoughts, probably trying to come up with another idea or alternative for that sound sample you all hate so much. Jisung, on the other hand, is staring right into you through the glass barrier that separates you from them, with an idea in mind he’s not quite sure how to deliver, but that he ends up doing it anyway. 

“What if we record you?” Jisung asks, drawing the scowling glances of the other two. “I mean, you can obviously fake them since you're a woman, right?” 

The suggestion has you cackling quietly, but even Chan and Changbin are considering it —you can tell by how they're looking at you as if they're expecting your verdict.

“Right,” you scoff, crossing both of your arms in front of your chest, “because what better way to spend my Saturday afternoon than faking moans inside a recording booth”. 

“It’s not going to take you long,” It’s Chan who speaks this time. The one you thought was going to be the least to be on board with such a crazy idea. “We all know this isn’t going to be the first time you fake them”. 

Your mouth opens in awe and you curse them mentally when they all laugh under their breaths. It was just one time, with a guy you didn’t even like, and you told them about it because you wanted to get the embarrassing memory out of your system. You were too bored, and desperate to go, that you ended up faking a series of moans that tricked him into thinking you were finished. 

“Very funny, Christopher,” you spit, resentful. “I thought you promised not to bring that shit up, ever again”.

“And I thought you promised you’d help us,” Chan attacks, “so what is it going to be?”

You look at them for a couple of seconds, pondering the situation. You can help them, you really have nothing better to do —yet a better idea comes to mind. 

“Why faking it if you can have the real deal?” you ask, nibbling at the skin against your fingernails. You’re trying to appear collected, but even suggesting such a crazy idea it’s making you feel uneasy. Unless you've gotten the signals wrong, you know they won't turn down such a proposal. “You’re all just sitting there, when one of you could help me”.

It’s Jisung who leans down over the console, clicking a red button to open the microphone.

“What exactly are you proposing?”

“Well, you were the one who pinned this on me, Han,” judging by their facial expressions, you know they understood exactly what you meant. They just want to make sure you are all on the same page. “Why don’t you come here and help me, so we can get this over with?”

“Why him?” Changbin immediately asks, offended even because you didn't consider him as your first option.

“Do you want to help me too?” you chuckle, “because I wouldn’t mind if you joined”.

“Han,” Chan’s cold voice interrupts the silence, catching the attention of the younger. He doesn’t say anything else, but rather signals for him to get inside the recording booth with a tilt of his head.

Jisung doesn’t say anything either, but his eyes flutter between you and Chan, almost begging for further instructions. He hesitates, perplexed. Not because he doesn’t want this, but because he really can’t begin to comprehend this is really happening.

“If you don’t want to, Changbin can do it,” the older speaks again.

“N-no, I mean- I can do it,” Jisung stands up from his studio chair abruptly and hastily, like he is in a rush. To be honest, he kind of is —he has been daydreaming of this moment ever since he met you, so he isn't going to waste it. Even if that means there are going to be other people watching or involved. “I just- what do I do?”

Chan and Changbin scoff quietly, teasing him. “You should ask her that question,” the former replies, crossing both of his arms and leaning back on his chair, “not us”.

“Yeah, okay”. 

Jisung walks inside the booth, swallowing thickly. Is he really about to do this? Is he dreaming? Or is this some sort of a sick joke?

He can’t help but overthink the situation, but every single one of his thoughts goes away when you welcome him into your embrace, holding him tightly against your body with his half-hard cock pressing against your lower abdomen and your tits against his toned chest. The other two are watching, and that only riles him up a lot more.

“Have you ever been this shy?” You tease him, wrapping your arms around his neck and brushing your lips against his. “You’re always so cocky, always running your mouth. But right now you aren’t. I wonder why”. 

“We don’t have that much time,” Chan warns you through the speakers, and you can feel the despair in his voice. Like Changbin, he’s anticipating something and you’re edging them, just like you are to Jisung. 

“Then I’m going to need more help,” you hum, latching your fingers against Jisung’s dark hair while pulling him closer to the crook of your neck. He loses no time and starts kissing and licking the sensitive flesh, hiding his face there. You, on the other hand, look through the glass barrier proudly to the other two who are out. “From the both of you”. 

“One isn’t enough for you? Do you need the three of us?” Chan asks, poking his cheek with his tongue. Changbin, on the other hand, observes the scene in awe, with both excitement and impatience. You don't reply, but shoot an accomplice glance at the older. “I always knew you were some of a slut, I just didn’t think this much”.

“Well, now you know,” you smile, biting your lower lip when Jisung sucks on a sensitive spot a bit too harshly, “so start recording”. 

The following moments are blurry, perhaps because of how nervous you are. You try to act in control, like you're the one calling the shots. But when you feel the three of them near you, with their hands all over you, it's hard to. 

“You’re not that bold now, are you?” Chan whispers in your ear, pressing your arse against his crotch. To your sides, there’s Jisung and Changbin, who grope and kiss your body as much as the other allows them to.

“I’m doing this for you,” you sigh, kicking your head back until it meets Chan’s shoulder. 

“Right,” he scoffs, grabbing a fistful of your hair and forcing you to kneel in front of Changbin and Jisung. “We just wanted your advice, but somehow we ended up like this”.

“I wonder why,” you tease him looking up to him while your hands tease the men in front of you.

“I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that she’s such a filthy slut,” Changbin murmurs, caressing your hair back. 

You can feel them through their sweatpants —you can feel how hard and ready they are for you, how desperate they are for your touch. You wish to take your sweet time with them, to suck the three of until they come in your mouth only to fuck you afterwards. 

You want more than just a quick fuck. But this will have to do for now.

“Suck them off,” Chan orders, pleased with the sight of you on your knees. 

Good thing you’re wearing such accessible clothes today —you’re making his job ten times easier.

“Get us nice and wet, baby,” Changbin proceeds, pulling your head against his crotch while he lowers his sweatpants just enough to release his throbbing cock. “We’re going to fuck you with it, so it’s up to you how easy you’re going to make this for yourself”.

“Don’t forget Jisung too,” the one behind you murmurs into your ear, practically kneeling right beside you while he pulls up your dress, revealing a shameful piece of clothing that he can barely name as underwear. The sight makes Chan’s cock throb even harder. “See how much he’s leaking? I know he has been dreaming of this for a while now”. 

“Fucker,” Jisung hisses through gritted teeth, feeling betrayed by his friend. Truth is, he isn’t telling any lies.

“Aw, you have?” He has been infatuated with you for quite some time now, and he is too awkward to be discreet about it. You have caught him checking you out shamelessly, and it has always been a turn on for you. 

“We all have,” Changbin says, nibbling at his lower lip when you wrap your hand around his cock. You squeeze both of them hard, staring up at them with a mischievous smile. “If only you knew what we talk about when you’re not around”. 

“Mh, I feel a little excluded now,” you pout. “Why don’t you guys just show me?”

You spent another ten minutes on your knees, being throat fucked by your dearest friends Changbin and Jisung. They take turns in burying their cocks inside your warm mouth, using your hair as leverage to let you know which one of them to suck next.

In the meantime, Chan just watches. 

You’re drooling all over yourself by now, your shirt ruined with a mixture of spit, precum and sweat. Your skin feels sticky, your mouth feels full and your pussy feels wet —you really wouldn’t be surprised if the floor was stained with your arousal.

“C’me here,” Chan tells you, grabbing you by your arm and helping you get in a different position. Your knees are bruised and red, but you don’t really care —tomorrow it will be a fun reminder of what happened today. “Now let’s really start recording”. 

You lay on the floor on all fours, with your ass up and your hands and knees supporting your body weight. It's an uncomfortable position, but you can only do much in a recording booth with no bed or couches.

The first one to take a spot right behind you is Changbin. Out of the three, it’s the one who seems more desperate to get his release and you kind of understand him —you’re desperate to feel something too, anything.

“I don’t have-” his voice is strangled, almost panicking. You can feel his hands gripping your hips, and the tip of his cock brushing against your slit. 

“I don’t care,” you encourage him, whimpering when Chan forces your head to face his throbbing dick that he has his fist wrapped around. “Just fuck me”.

It’s the heat of the moment that's getting the best out of you, but you can’t begin to regret it when you feel Changbin’s cock burying itself little by little inside your aching pussy. You try to hold back your moans, worrying that someone outside the hall might hear you, but you know it’s practically impossible.

Plus, that’s the reason why you’re there, anyways.

 So you start enjoying the moment, being as vocal as possible. If anything, the lewd sounds escaping through your lips are only pushing Changbin towards the edge, hips snapping at yours roughly enough to get a series of strained moans immersed in both pleasure and pain.

“You sound so g-good,” Changbin grunts, biting his lower lip to stop himself from being too loud. “Had I known your moans were this pretty, I've would've fucked you before”.

“Fuck, Changbin”. The way his name falls from your lips boosts his ego, and he’s glad everything is being recorded. He makes a mental note to go back to the recording later today, just in case he needs to unwind.

“Jisung will fuck you after him,” Chan demands your attention yet again, brushing the tip of his cock against your lips. He’s kneeling in front of you while Changbin is pounding your pussy from behind. Jisung, on the other hand, is stroking himself while he witnesses the scene; too shy to actually make a move himself, like the rest of them. “And then I will go next, how does that sound?”

“How many seconds- of the sample do you even need?” you chuckle, but the laugh is soon muffled by another whimper caused by Changbin’s ministrations. 

“Just a couple,” he replies, smearing his precum along your lips. “But I’m sure you wouldn’t want to leave this studio without being fucked by Jisung and me, right?”

You love his cockiness, and how he is always almost right. So you nod frantically, clenching around Changbin at the idea of being filled with the both of them in just a couple of seconds.

It doesn’t take him long to come inside you, especially not with how much your pussy is clenching around him. He does so shamelessly, grunting your name and gripping your hips too harshly you’re sure it will leave a mark tomorrow.

When he pulls out, commanded by Jisung who is too desperate to wait another second, you feel his sticky arousal leaking out of you. It’s a weird sensation, and it makes you feel dirty, but you can’t deny you like it. 

And you like it even more when you feel the tip of Jisung’s cock gathering all of his friend’s cum, fucking it back into you little by little, making sure it doesn’t go to waste.

“Who would’ve thought, hm?” You whimper, feeling a bit sore from Changbin’s aggressive care. “You’re not as innocent as I thought, Jisungie”.

He doesn’t say anything, but gives you a sharp thrust in response. One that makes your whole body jolt and tremble, one that earns you one of the prettiest moans the three of them have ever heard.

Chan is sure the recording is good to be used by now, but he doesn’t want to stop just yet. Or at least not until he also gets his fun.

“S-so tight,” Jisung murmurs, holding you more delicately than Changbin did. You love the contrast, though, and they’re both a good fuck. “And warm, all filled up with cum”.

“You’re going to fill me up too, Jisungie?” On any other occasion, the nickname would’ve earned you a killer gaze and a couple of curses from him. But right now, Jisung doesn’t mind. In fact, he likes it. There’s something enticing about you acting like the one in control.

“Can- I?” He asks with a shakily breath. His sloppy movements tell you he is close, and you take it as a compliment. A minute is definitely a record, but you’re really not mad about it. 

“That depends,” you tease him, crying out loud when his cock starts hitting sensitive spots inside your walls. “Are you going to come a lot for me?” 

“Ngh, y-yes,” Jisung whimpers. “Please, I’m- close, just let- say yes, please”.

“Go on,” you order him, arching your ass even more for him. “Give it to me”. 

Not even a couple of seconds later, you feel a now familiar sensation warming up your lower tummy, leaking through your pussy and onto your thighs. 

“Shit,” Changbin scoffs, checking the scene out. “You made a fucking mess”. 

You want to look at what he did, know how much he came for you, but Chan reinforces your initial position yet again by arching your ass even more.

“Be a good slut for me,” he tells you, landing a sharp spank on one of your ass cheeks. The sudden action makes you cry out in pain, but you don’t hate the sensation completely. “And I’ll be good to you”.

You’re not quite sure what he means, and you don’t get time to ask before he’s bottoming out inside of you. 

“Fuck!” you moan, suddenly losing the strength on your arms and your upper body threatening to plop down onto the floor. “C-chan!”

“C’me here,” he groans, sneaking a hand underneath your tummy looking for your clit. Again, the position isn’t the best but he somehow makes it work. And when you feel his digits rubbing your nerves just at the same pace of his thrusts, you start clenching around him even harder.

“Oh my g-god,” that stimulation is exactly what you need to come undone. Jisung and Changbin did a hell of a job getting you closer to your orgasm, but this is exactly what you needed to reach your climax.

And a well deserved one.

“Come,” Chan grunts through gritted teeth, biting his lower lip while furrowing his eyebrows. The sight of your ass bouncing against his cock is enough to get him to come, but he needs you to come first. “I’ll come with you”.

“Ngh- Chan,” and just like some magic words, you’re coming right after his order. He can feel you tightening around him, trying to milk his cock just as badly as you did with the other two. And he can’t resist that feeling, so he sticks up to his word and comes inside you almost at the same time. 

“Such- a good- little fucking slut,” his words are strained and painful. But his voice only contributes more to your own orgasm, just like the feeling of his cum filling you up. 

It takes the two of you a few moments to actually stop —even after coming, he kept on fucking you slowly until he made sure to fuck all of their cum inside of you. The last thing he wanted was to make a mess inside the recording booth, but it was inevitable. 

The floor is stained with all sorts of fluids, ones that are dripping out of your swollen pussy and others that no one knows how they got there. 

“Jisung,” Chan sighs, caressing your hips while fixing his clothes. “Stay with her, I’ll go get something to clean her up. Make sure she’s alright, and take her to the sofa in the studio, ‘kay?”

Jisung nods, attentive, and he helps you get up off the floor with ease. He wraps his arm around you, and fixes the top part of your dress to which you mutter a quick and soft thank you. 

“Changbin’s going to get you something to eat or drink, and I’ll take care of this. Alright?” 

You nod, still supporting your whole weight on Jisung. Your sore legs can only do much.

“He’s going to be with you in the meantime, but we will all be right back,” Chan’s soft gaze is the opposite to what he showed inside the recording booth, but you absolutely adore the contrast. 

“Yeah, ‘s okay,” you smile. 

“You did good, yeah?” Chan smiles, caressing your hair, “sounded so pretty for us”.

You offer them a weak, yet satisfied smile, “my pleasure”. 

[ghostie-luvs]

Yandere! Jock (part three) <3

Part one ! Part two !!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who kept you in his house for the following days. He couldn’t risk losing you, he finally had you in his arms! Every night he would untie you from the bed only to wrap you up in his arms, caging you into his built body.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who would nuzzle into you and bury his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and blissfully basking in your warmth. Gods, who knew someone could smell so good and be so warm? He’s beginning to wonder how he had even lived without you beforehand.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who coos softly, running his hands through your hair and and kissing your temple every now and then to get you to stop thrashing in his arms. Just enjoy his warmth, won’t you? “you don’t want to see me mad, right, doll face? So stay still.”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who smiles as he sees you calm down, and kisses your neck as a reward, multiple times, and only grinning when he sees the pretty little marks that lets everyone know you’re his-even when he knows he won’t let you out of this room, and no one but him will be able to appreciate his marks on you anyway.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who shushes you to sleep as you begin to cry and push him away and he continues cuddling you, muttering how much he loves you-over and over and over. How could he love anyone else? “You love me, right, doll? Say it, say you love me, say it.”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who had to leave for school the next day, but of course he fed and kissed you first. His face beams each time you let him feed you and he thinks it’s so cute. He finally leaves but not before untying you because he thinks you’ve been a good doll for him lately. Oh how wrong he is. But you’re still only restricted to his room.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who had no idea anything negative could happen when he left you alone, untied. He would walk to school those days to see the missing posters with your face on it. But you were doing just fine, you were in his care. He’s the only one who can take care of you. And the only one that does it best. You only deserve the best. And that’s him, isn’t it?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who later, was pulled out of class by the principal, with furrowed brows and a frown on his face as he waits in the office. And as he watches two officers enter along with the principal, his face pales. Had they found out? Who had found out? Who sold him out? He didn’t tell anyone, he..he..and then he stops. No..it couldn’t be..she shouldn’t have. His face becomes one of desperation and frustration.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who cried out when he was taken by police, and as they reach the station, he raises his head and his eyes meet yours. The desperation meets his eyes again, “Y/n..you..please don’t do this to me..you love me, don’t you? I love you…!” He cries out to you, desperate for you to say this all was a joke and you loved him. And he sees you lower your head and only scowls.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ “you betrayed me! I thought you loved me, how dare you do this to me!?” He thrashed in the many officers arms now, holding him down as they drag him away.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who eyed you and only frowns, “please..please y/n..I love you..” , and his demeanor changes to one of sadness and love for you, the utter betrayal racking in his body as he watches you get further and further away from him as he was dragged..and he gave up on fighting the officers.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who sat in his cell and felt his jaw clench, gripping his thighs in frustration and running a hand through his hair as many thoughts cross his mind. As the lights shut out, his head hits the metal bed, but not without one more thought leaving him to smile.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ‘Don’t worry, doll…I’ll come back for you..after all, you’re mine, remember ?’

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who said he gave up on fighting for you?

A/n: sorry, anon for the long wait!! But here is part 3 of my jock and I hope you enjoyed <3 As always, reblogs are appreciated as well as constructive criticism. Thank you. <3

more of my works :)

© @ghostie-luvs All works belong to me,, please do not repost my works, modify, or plagiarize on other platforms and this one unless stated otherwise.

[ckret2]

Chapter 31 of human Bill grudgingly enduring being the Pines' prisoner because the Henchmaniacs won't take his call: Summerween night! Everyone gets ridiculous costumes!

The Summerween Trickster's buddies are attempting to resurrect him. Robbie's making a music video. Bill's attempting to woo Ford back into friendship, to terrify Dipper with cursed knowledge, and to recover his dignity from THE most gentle chastising imaginable, and he only succeeds in 1 out of 3 of these endeavors:

It's not this one. He's just gotta process these emotions while wearing that stupid wig.

####

Soos was putting the final touches on his cosplay (the suave and mysterious Masked Guy In A Suit, love interest of the heroine from the classic anime Teenage Planetary Soldier Girls) when he heard the phone ring in the office. "Hold on, I'll get it!" He hurried downstairs, ducked under a construction paper chain Mabel had strung over the door, picked up the phone, and said, "Hello?"

A mysterious voice droned, "The sun sets a deep blood red."

"Oh, no thanks, we don't want any." Soos hung up, sighed happily, and said, "Ah, Summerween. Always brings out the weirdos."

"Hey Soos!" Mabel ducked into the doorway. "Where's the candy bowl?"

"Oh, hey Hambone. It's in my bedroom." He put on a stage whisper. "I put it in there so Bill couldn't steal it."

"Thanks Soos!" She ran upstairs.

Dipper and Bill waited downstairs, the tension thick between them (on Dipper's side, anyway; Bill—watching a black-and-white horror movie, sipping at a can of cider, and brooding over going to voicemail—didn't notice). Dipper was waiting by the door in a folding chair; but he kept glancing toward Bill in the living room. When the silence got too much to bear, he asked, "Okay, what are you dressed as?"

Bill was wearing a brown bedsheet toga (the most historically-accurate part of his costume); a cheap wig of a teased mullet that had ended up mostly red with yellow streaks, forming a plume of hair right over his head and then a long straight tail he'd draped over his shoulder; and a bunch of paper faux-Greek homes taped all around the hem of his toga, forming a ring around his calves.

"And are those my sandals?" Dipper asked.

"Take it up with Mabel, she loaned them on your behalf," Bill said. "I'm not telling my costume. You have to guess it."

"Seriously?" Dipper sighed. It had to be a god, gods towered over their mortals' temples. What god would wear brown? "I don't know—Demeter?"

"What? No. Do I seem like the Demeter type? Pathetic." Bill waved off his guess. As Mabel ran downstairs, Bill said, "Hey, Shooting Star, you haven't made your official guess yet."

Without hesitation, Mabel said, "A time-traveling hair metal singer touring the Roman Empire and trying to find a way home before his hair dye runs out."

"Wrong, but I would love to live in the world you've dreamed up." He meandered into the entryway to join Mabel as she plopped down in the second chair by the door.

Dipper screwed up his face. "Are you helping us answer the door?"

"No, you're helping me answer the door. I'm cursed, remember?" Bill leaned over Mabel's shoulder, dug into the candy bowl, and popped a lollipop in his mouth. "But you're not getting rid of me, if that's what you're asking."

Soos headed to the door, cape billowing dramatically behind him. "Hey dudes. Hey Bill." He paused in the door, studying Bill. "Hey! Is that a Bobo the Uncouth Berserker cosplay?"

Bill blinked. "Who?"

"Bobo the Uncouth Berserker! You've gotta read Bobo. He's this primitive hero descended from lost Lemuria who goes on daring adventures through the lush impenetrable jungles of Central Europe. He's got this comic that was so popular it spawned an anime, which got an American movie adaptation, which formed the basis of a second comic continuity that isn't as critically acclaimed as the original but has drawn in a lot of new fans... and..." Soos petered out. "You're not Bobo, are you."

Bill shook his head. "Thanks for playing."

"Aw." Soos's shoulders slumped. "Anyway—me and Melody are gonna be at the cosplay contest at the theater. I'll keep my phone on in case of monsters."

"We'll be fine!" Mabel said. "Go have fun!"

"You too!" With a dramatic flourish of his cape, Soos disappeared into the night.

Bill watched Soos go enviously. He could have been given a human body that looked that good in a suit and top hat, but was he? No. It wasn't fair. And Soos didn't even wear the right hat size.

Dipper glanced sideways at Bill. "Hey. Is... Lemuria real?"

"Not anymore." Bill perked up as Stan passed by, dressed like Frankenstein's monster. "Hey, Stanley! You haven't guessed yet. What am I?"

Stan surveyed him. "White columned buildings, Statue of Liberty dress, and a red clown wig. I dunno, the American government?"

Bill squawked in laughter. "That's my favorite wrong answer so far. I like you, Stanley." He fished a chocolate bar out of the bowl and held it out.

Stan grunted in disapproval, but accepted the candy. "If any of you need me, I'm gonna be up on the roof, terrifying kids." He held up a boombox and a cassette that said "Spooky Sound Effects of Halloween". "If you hear screaming children, don't worry: that means I'm winning."

"Where's your brother?" Bill asked.

"Avoiding you." Stan passed through the living room and left.

Bill's shoulders slumped; but he just dug into the candy bowl for more chocolate. Then the first trick-or-treater knocked on the door, and Dipper jumped up in relief to answer it.

The shack didn't attract quite as many trick-or-treaters as the houses closer to the center of town, but they got a steady stream of children, and more than they'd gotten the year before. Between visitors, Bill dug into their candy stock, gleefully ignoring Dipper's complaints. After the fourth or fifth visitor, Dipper and Mabel realized that Bill was covering up the amount of candy he'd pilfered by meticulously re-folding the empty wrappers and putting them back in the bowl.

"It's fair play," Bill said. He untwisted one end of a Twisty Roll tube, squeezed out the candy, blew into the wrapper to re-inflate it, and twisted the end shut again. "The kids are trick-or-treating, right? Sometimes they get treats and sometimes they get tricks."

"Come on, seriously?" Dipper said. "Even for you this is low. You're literally taking candy from babies."

"The babies are trying to take candy from us. I have no sympathy." With the precision of an origami master, Bill refolded a paper fruit chew wrapper into a box and dropped it back into the bowl.

"They're supposed to take candy from us, that's how the holiday works." Dipper looked at Mabel for support.

But she was holding up an empty 3 Fencers wrapper and squeezing it lightly between her fingers. "Wow. How did you make the wrapper puffy again? It's so convincing."

Bill shot Dipper a nasty smile, then turned to Mabel and said magnanimously, "I'll teach you everything I know." He twirled a glue stick between his fingers.

Another trick-or-treater knocked, and Dipper answered.

"Trick or treat! Please give us the worst candy you have."

Mabel blinked, leaning around Dipper to see who was outside. "Wait, what?"

Outside stood a purple-furred monster with a dozen limbs from a dozen different creatures. He gasped in surprise. "Ohhh, twin costumes! That's so cute! What are you two, haunted dolls?"

Dipper took a surprised step back. "Limby Jimmy?"

The monster was silent a moment, taken aback. He took off a bear mask he'd made out of a paper plate. "Is it that obvious?"

Mabel asked, "Have we...?"

Dipper said, "Oh! Sorry—Mabel, this is Limby Jimmy, I ran into him last year in the Crawlspace under town when I was trying to get your face back—"

Helpfully, Bill threw in, "He's Gravity Falls' most accomplished arms dealer. And legs dealer, and tails dealer, and ears dealer..."

"Limby, this is my sister Mabel. Actually, I don't know if I ever introduced myself—"

Limby Jimmy cut in, "Ohhh, yeah, I remember you! You're Troll Boy, right?"

Dipper winced. "It's—it's Dipper, actually." He paused. "Wow. We meet a lot of weird people."

"Nice to meet you, Jimmy!" Mabel held out a hand. After a moment of thought, Jimmy elected to shake it with a tentacle and a dog's paw.

"What are you doing up here?" Dipper asked. "Is Summerween the one night of the year that Gravity Falls' monsters can walk among humans without fear?"

"Oh no, I'm terrified. I wouldn't be out here if I wasn't collecting donations," Jimmy said.

"Donations?"

Jimmy hesitated, then lowered his voice. "You've been in the Crawlspace, so, you and your sister are cool, but is the lady...?" He wiggled a hoof toward Bill.

Coolly, Bill said, "I'm actually an ancient interdimensional energy being cursed to wear a human form."

Dipper and Mabel flinched in alarm and rounded on Bill, hissing, "Bill!" "Shhh!"

Ignoring them, Bill said, "So, continue."

"Oh," Jimmy said brightly. "That's all right then, yuk yuk." He wiggled his multitude of right arms. "I don't know if you humans have heard yet, but the Summerween Trickster got eaten to death last summer! It's really sad!"

Dipper and Mabel, who had watched as he was eaten to death, stayed quiet.

"But probably happy for him?" Jimmy mused. "Since I think that's what he wanted? But it's sad for the rest of his poker group, we all miss him! So I'm out here with Doug—"

"Who?" Dipper asked, looking around the porch for a second monster.

"Oh, he's back there." Jimmy pointed toward a tree at the edge of the clearing around the Mystery Shack. The tree chittered unnervingly. "We're going around collecting donations to resurrect the Trickster! Or... re-summon him? Or however this works. We never really asked him how he came to exist, it seemed rude."

"Naturally," Bill said. "You can't just ask a freak what made him so freaky. It's a sensitive topic."

"Right! You understand," Jimmy said. "Anyway, we need a lot of crappy candy!" He looked at their bowl. "Which pieces have the kids been ignoring this year?"

Mabel had started bouncing on the balls of her dusty Victorian ghost shoes; and the moment she had a turn to speak, she squealed in excitement. "You're the Summerween Trickster's friend! That's perfect! Stay here, I'll be right back!" She shoved the candy bowl into Bill's arms and zoomed up the stairs. "I've got some stuff for him!"

Bill looked at the bowl, looked at the stairs, shoved the candy in Dipper's arms, and followed Mabel. "Hey, Shooting Star? What are you doing?"

Her voice drifted down the stairs: "Getting a donation! I'll be just a minute!"

"Hold on, you're actually helping that guy?" Bill laughed. "Why?" He climbed high enough to poke his head above the attic floor  and lowered his voice so Jimmy couldn't hear. "I wasn't paying that much attention last Summerween, but I got the impression from your little costume store brawl that the Trickster was trying to kill you kids. Am I missing something?"

"I mean, yeah, he was—but he was in a really bad place back then, that doesn't mean he deserves to be dead for it. And now he knows someone out there wants to eat him, so maybe he'll be less insecure and evil." Mabel laughed, "Anyway, the Trickster isn't that bad! He didn't try to kill me half as hard as you did!"

Bill froze a couple of steps from the top of the stairs. He didn't move for a few seconds; and then wordlessly, he slunk back downstairs.

Dipper watched as Bill, face beet red, trudged into the living room. "Hey. What's Mabel...?"

"How should I know." Bill curled up on the couch, picked up the can of cider he'd been drinking earlier, shotgunned it, and glowered at the horror movie on TV.

Dipper considered Bill—all alone in the living room and not doing anything important—and considered Mabel, upstairs; and said, "Hey, Jimmy. Do you mind waiting out here until Mabel gets back."

"Sure! I don't have any plans." Jimmy rocked back on his many heels.

"Cool. Thanks." Dipper shut the door.

He sidled oh so very casually into the living room and leaned against the TV. "Guess it's just the two of us right now."

Bill's gaze didn't waver from the TV. "Terrific counting skills, Troll Boy." He popped open another cider can.

Dipper grit his teeth. Let it go. "Sooo! You're from the second dimension, huh? What's that like?" (His voice cracked embarrassingly on "that.") "Just—just curious. Making friendly conversation. Caaasual conversation." He flashed a pair of finger guns at Bill, to underscore just how casual he was. "Yyyep." Witness the junior paranormal investigator in action.

Bill turned the cold, empty eyes of a killer on Dipper. He took a long, slow sip from his cider. And he asked himself: what can I say that will make this stupid boy regret ever daring to speak to me?

Bill smiled. "Yeah. Sure. Okay," he said. "You wanna know what it's like? Have you ever read the Allegory of the Cave?"

Dipper hesitated. "By... Plato?"

"That one. You know—ignorance is like being a prisoner chained in a cave, watching shadow puppets being cast on a wall, and thinking they're reality; and having knowledge is like being outside the cave in the sunlight, seeing the real shapes that are casting the shadows—"

"I have read it, actually," Dipper said, a tad defensively. "It was for extra credit in—"

"English class, I know."

Dipper frowned; but he soldiered on. "So... living in the second dimension is like being chained in a cave, staring at the shadows on the wall, and thinking that's reality? Bleak."

Bill laughed so loudly that Dipper started. "Wow, you're so dumb! Use your brain, kid: it's the second dimension. You're not the prisoner: you're the shadow on the wall." Bill's lip curled in a sneer, "An illusion in somebody else's allegory. And the only one who can see the cave's exit... is you. That's what the second dimension is like!" He laughed again. It sounded forced.

"Oh," Dipper mumbled. He tried to wrap his head around the idea of being a living metaphor for ignorance. "Sounds... pretty bad?"

"Awful," Bill agreed. "Doesn't hold a candle to what your dimension has going on, though."

"Wh... why, what's going on in the third dimension?"

Bill gave him a malicious smile, and Dipper had the sinking feeling he'd just walked into an obvious trap. "You idiot, you still think you're in the third dimension? Really?"

Was that a trick question? What answer was Bill looking for? What could this be if not the third dimension? "Nnooo?"

"Wow. I can really see why you're a straight-A's honors student," Bill said. "You're so good at figuring out what answer the test wants and regurgitating it—even if you don't actually understand it at all." He heaved himself back to his feet; and Dipper was sure there was something threatening in the movement—something that reminded Dipper that he was talking to a dangerously unstable extinction level event precariously packed into an unsteady human body. "Although copying the year of the Louisiana Purchase off of Brandon's test in fifth grade  probably didn't hurt, did it."

Dipper's stomach dropped. The secret shame buried beneath the foundation of his honors roll-worthy record. Pull that out and his entire academic career came toppling down. He'd get kicked out of the honors classes. He'd go to jail. Was cheating against the law? "H... how did—?"

"What year was the Louisiana Purchase?"

Dipper's brain immediately went blank. He was silent, trapped in the paralyzing intensity of Bill's gaze. After several terrifying seconds, he croaked, "1803?" and hoped he was right.

"Attaboy. Too bad you couldn't have learned that a little sooner, isn't it?" As he spoke, Bill had closed in on Dipper until he'd backed him into the corner behind the TV set, filling Dipper's exit route with one hand on the TV and the other on the wall. "But we were talking about dimensions, weren't we! Whaddaya like to read, kid," Bill asked too casually, "do you like cosmic horror? Do you know what real 'cosmic horror' is?"

Dipper regretted this conversation completely.

"It's having an eyeball on the inside of your body, and seeing another dimension through it. And ohoho, I think you'd be amazed at the things I can see from here—"

Dipper got the distinct impression that if he didn't get out of this conversation, he would only hear things he'd be telling his therapist about for months. "Cool! Good talk, man. Hey Mabel?" (That was an absolutely humiliating voice crack.) "How's it going?"

A pause. "I think I need help!"

"Coming!" Dipper ran behind the TV to escape Bill and gratefully bolted upstairs.

The kid had caved so fast. And Bill had only just been getting started. He smirked, sat, and turned back to the movie.

A moment later, Mabel and Dipper came back downstairs, carrying four bulging plastic grocery bags. Mabel set one by her feet, opened the door, and shoved the first bag into Jimmy's arms. "Here! You can give these to the Trickster!" She shoved over the second bag.

Jimmy stumbled back under the weight. "Whoa there! What is this?"

"Candy chalk-hearts! I completely bought out the leftovers after Valentine's Day," Mabel said. "I wanted to make sure that if we met the Trickster again, I could let him know he's loved and appreciated as the terrifying avatar of spooky holiday spirit that he is! And that I also respect that he's made out of gross candy nobody likes to eat." She picked up a chalk-heart box and waved it in Jimmy's face. "So here's a gross candy that expresses love! See, the little hearts say things like 'You smell nice' and 'I heart ur face,' but they taste like if dehydration was a flavor."

Dipper handed his bags to Jimmy. "Wait—Mabel, that's why you got all these? You've been planning to help the Trickster since February? I thought you were gonna build a chalk-heart house or something."

"Oooh, that's such a good idea. I should do that next year!" To Jimmy, she said, "I was gonna give these to him personally, but if he's still dead, I guess you can add it to his candy sacrifice pile or whatever? And make sure he gets this!" She handed Jimmy a store bought Shimmery Twinkleheart Valentine's card. It read, "I BELIEVE in our friendship! Happy Valentine's Day!" Mabel had scratched out "Valentine's" and written "Summerween".

Choked up, Jimmy said, "Oh—wow. That's the nicest thing anyone's done for us all night. I'm sure the Trickster will really appreciate it when he's not dead anymore."

Dipper was a little more vengeful. Dipper didn't want to do anything for one of the many guys that had tried to kill them last year. But, on the other hand, Mabel had just gone all in on this, and Jimmy seemed nice enough, so... Dipper sighed. Whatever, it was Summerween and this was a trick-or-treater. "Hey," he picked up the candy bowl. "There's really only one bag of good candy in here. The bottom of the bowl is filled with after-dinner mints our great uncle's been stealing from restaurants for the last six months. The Trickster would probably love that, right?"

"Aww—thanks so much, you guys! We'll have the poker group back together in no time!" Jimmy dug past the good candy and started scooping mints into his bag. "Oh—since I'm here, can I ask about our other poker buddy? Do either of you know Mr. What's-His-Face? He disappeared around the time you were visiting the Crawlspace, maybe one of you saw something? Any information would be helpful." Jimmy looked at them with weird, plus-shaped, but very hopeful eyes. "Between the Trickster's death and Whatsis disappearing, the local paranormal community's been hit hard. Especially us guys in their friend group. I'm—I'm not gonna lie," Jimmy heaved a sigh, "It's been a really hard year."

Dipper and Mabel, who were directly and personally at fault for Mr. What's-His-Face's disappearance and knew he was frozen in stasis in Ford's bunker at that very moment, exchanged a look and came to a silent agreement.

"Nope, don't know anything," Mabel said.

"Sorry, buddy," Dipper said.

Like the Summerween Trickster, Mr. What's-His-Face was a weird faceless shapeshifty monster that had tried to kill them. But they felt like that was where the similarities ended.

By the time of the Trickster's death, Mabel and Dipper had realized that his deepest inner longing was to be called good enough to eat. Mr. What's-His-Face's deepest inner longing was to steal innocent people's faces. If Mabel and Dipper helped resurrect the Trickster, he'd probably go back to ensuring everyone displayed sufficient holiday spirit, while hopefully mellowing out about eating people now that he'd been consumed once. On the other hand, if Mabel and Dipper helped free Mr. What's-His-Face, he'd probably just keep stealing faces.

And on top of all that, they could help resurrect the Trickster without admitting they knew the guy who ate him. They couldn't really lead Jimmy to Mr. What's-His-Face without admitting their great uncle was keeping him captive. And that would be a problem for the whole family.

"Oh," Jimmy said. "Okay, that's fine. Thanks for all your help. You know where to reach us if you hear anything."

Mabel shook her head. Dipper nodded. "Yeah, we'll let you know."

Jimmy hopped off the porch, shouted, "Hey Doug, can you help me carry these?" and chucked a couple of bags of chalk-hearts toward the tree line. Dipper and Mabel stared. Nothing emerged to pick the bags up.

They shut the door.

"Man," Dipper said. "We kinda devastated the paranormal poker group last summer, didn't we?"

"Yeah." Mabel sucked in a breath between her teeth. "Wow. Feels... kinda bad."

Dipper offered her the candy bowl. "Drown our feelings in chocolate?"

"Please."

They grabbed a piece of candy each, tore open the wrappers—and frowned. Mabel stomped a foot. "Dang it—Bill!"

"Hm?"

"How many of these wrappers are empty?!"

Bill poked his head out of the living room and said, smugly, "Like candy from a baby!"

####

A knock, and Dipper opened the door. "Wendy! Hey! Good timing—"

"Hey." Wendy lowered her voice. "Quick question—this is super important—is Goldie here?"

"Uh—yeah, why—?"

"Yello?" Bill carefully wove his way out of the living room, already less steady on his feet than when he'd sat down. "I heard my name, who's summoning me?"

Wendy pointed over the twins at Bill and turned to shout into the dark, "Ladies and gentlemen! I present to you! Live and in person... Toga Lady!"

A half dozen teenagers immediately went bananas. Hooting and hollering and cheering and whistling: "To-ga! To-ga! To-ga!"

Bill's entire face lit up. Without missing a beat, he pushed past the baffled twins out onto the porch and spread his arms wide, basking in the cheering. "That's right, keep it coming! Worship me! I'm the greatest!"

"Yes!" Robbie pumped a fist in the air. "The legends were true!" Nate immediately added, "The prophecy! The prophecy!" Tambry snapped photos of Toga Lady's fresh look as fast as her phone could save them, muttering, "Everyone's gonna flip when they find out you're still in town."

Wendy waited, grinning, until her friends' faux hysterics had died down. "Okay—okay, after getting you hyped up, I should probably say that Toga Lady is actually Toga Guy." She glanced questioningly at Bill. "I think?"

"Eh, I'm not picky."

"Anyway this is Goldie, he was stuck in another dimension for thirty years, it's crazy, and now he's like my illegal backup cashier. He actually... doesn't usually wear togas?"

Bill laughed. "If you can't wear a bedsheet on Summerween, when can you?"

Lee said, "Thompson wore a bedsheet to homecoming."

"Hey."

Bill pointed at Thompson. "A man of impeccable fashion! I like it!" Thompson gave him a look of eternal gratitude.

"And Goldie, this is the gang! That's Thompson, he's the guy with the van; Robbie and Tambry, they're like, gender-swapped versions of each other, they even share their hair dye..."

As Wendy did introductions, Mabel whispered to Dipper, "Did you know she was gonna introduce Goldie to everyone?"

"No! This is bad, I told her not to trust him..."

Bill was responding to a question, "No, no, you've gotta guess, I'm making everyone guess!"

The teens considered the question. Robbie offered first, "Punk caveman?"

"Nope!"

Hesitantly, Thompson tried, "Nero fiddling over the burning of Rome?" He winced when Lee laughed.

"I like where your head's at, but no! I can't fiddle."

"The gremlin king from Huge Maze?" Tambry said.

Mabel piped up, "No, but the wig came from a gremlin king costume and I appreciate you for recognizing that!" Tambry nodded in cool approval.

Bill dispensed of Lee, Nate, and Wendy's guesses—Greek Christmas tree, that one guy who keeps painting burning banks, and hair metal Hades—before Robbie loudly cleared his throat to cut in. "Anyway, would love to stay and chat, but we've gotta move if we wanna be in position before sunset. Dipper, Mabel, you ready?"

"Ready to ghost it up!" Mabel said, squeezing around Bill with Dipper onto the porch.

Robbie surveyed their makeup—deathly white skin, ashen grey lips, and dark circles around their eye sockets. "Yeah, that's pretty good. Could use a little color, maybe. Like bloody tears?" He turned toward Tambry.

She said, "I think I've got some red eyeliner."

"'In position'?" Bill asked, giving Dipper and Mabel a questioning look.

Wendy said, "We're helping Robbie film this music video tonight."

"We're the creepy ghost twins!" Mabel announced proudly. "We get to sing the chorus."

Robbie said, "Yeah, the song's about childhood and growing up, but like, with ghosts? Because once you've grown up, your childhood is all dead? It's metal, but introspective. I'm calling the genre 'intrometal.'" He flipped his bangs dramatically. "It's a super deep song. Metaphorical layers."

"Oh yeah?" Bill stared Robbie down. "Sing some of it."

Robbie blinked. "Oh. Yeah, okay uh, I haven't warmed up my voice but, the hook is like—" He pantomimed playing a guitar and whisper-screamed, "'BABY DOLLS! BASKET BALLS! BASKET CASE! HUMAN RACE!' Like that."

Bill nodded slowly, face expressionless. "Ah, yeah, I see. Really deep stuff. Makes you think."

"Thanks." Robbie looked at Dipper and Mabel. "Anyway, if we're gonna get any footage in the graveyard before the jack-o'-melons start burning out, we've gotta move. Let's go, Creepy Ghost Twins."

"Wait, you're going out?" Bill asked Mabel. "Like out-out? Leaving me here? By myself? On Summerween?"

"Wh—yeah, we're only handing out candy for half the night," Mabel said. "I told you that."

"No you didn't!"

"Yes I did!"

"When?"

Mabel thought. "No I didn't," she admitted. "Sorry!"

Wendy punched Bill's arm. "Sorry to steal them. We'll be back in a couple of hours," she said. "Or you could come help—?"

"No!" Dipper and Mabel both shoved Bill back into the house before he could accept. Dipper said, "You've gotta—guard the house." Mabel added, "And hand out candy!"

"Right," Bill said flatly. "Yes. That. Ha."

"See you later!" Mabel said, and then shut the door in his face.

The last thing he heard was Wendy explaining to her friends, "He's on house arrest for, like, academic plagiarism and war crimes or something..." and then they were gone.

Bill's shoulders slumped. Well, now what? He couldn't celebrate a holiday by himself. What was the point of wearing a costume if no one sees you in it. He picked up a piece of candy, discovered it was one of his decoys, and picked up another. 

Someone knocked on the door.

"Yeah, yeah," Bill sighed. He picked up the candy bowl, turned toward the door, and paused. Ah. Right. What was he supposed to do with this impenetrable portal-blocking slab of wood.

Who was left in the house? Stan on the roof, Ford in the basement, Abuelita probably already in bed... were any of them worth harassing to help him answer the door? Maybe Stan, he'd gotten all dressed up, he liked the holiday even if he didn't like Bill—

The trick-or-treater knocked more insistently.

Or. Or.

He could pick up the bowl, peer out the small window in the door, and make direct eye contact with the children outside while he ate candy.

As a piece of mid-tier chocolate melted on his tongue, he saw three trick-or-treaters' faces fall as their faith in a kind, caring universe died. He grinned at them and ate another chocolate.

Oh yeah. He grabbed the rest of his cider from the living room and set up post next to the door. This would keep him entertained the rest of the night.

####

He made seven small children cry.

####

Stan watched from his post on the roof as yet another sobbing kid ran away from the shack. "HA! Gottem! Sucker!" He affectionately patted his boombox. "Creepy ghoulish laughter, you never disappoint! Terrifying moochers since 1989!" He paused the cassette and rewound it a few seconds to replay the best part.

He heard a scraping sound above him, and looked up just in time to see Ford sliding down the roof to join him. "Oh, hey! I didn't think we'd see you again tonight."

"Mabel made me promise to celebrate Summerween a little."

"Good for her!"

Stan had already claimed the sun lounger, so Ford brushed some dust and leaves off the roof's cooler and sat. "So, what are we doing? Scaring trick-or-treaters?"

"Yep. This year I'm taking a more atmospheric approach." He gestured at his boombox, which by now was playing haunting organ music. "Nothing like screaming zombies and rattling chains from nowhere to freak out the kids."

Ford nodded. "Psychological torment. I approve."

"Not quite as good as getting to see the terror in their eyes, but." Stan shrugged. "Bill was hanging out with the kids. I didn't want to put up with him."

"Mm. There's a reason I was spending the holiday in the basement."

"Heh. Well, there's always Halloween."

They were silent for a moment, listening as the cassette moved on from organ music to werewolf howls. Stan asked, "Think we'll be rid of him by then? I know we were hoping to be done with him before the Fourth of July—but since I haven't heard anything lately, I figure you hit a roadblock."

Ford winced. "Guilty as charged." He was still relearning how to keep other people in the loop. Even Stan. "You're right. I have a weapon that can destroy him, but I can't find a fuel source without restarting the portal. I'm hoping Fiddleford will come up with a solution I haven't."

Stan nodded. Ford had told him he was getting Fiddleford involved; even as reluctant as Ford was to admit how little progress he'd made, he wasn't going to tell someone outside the family about Bill without letting Stan know. "Any breakthroughs on his end?"

####

During the credits between episodes of the retired samurai period drama (most recently, the samurai had been asked to use his sword to help cut flowers for a bouquet), Fiddleford leaned over and whispered to Ford, "So I've been a-lookin' at those blueprints you left me."

"And...?"

"And I've constructicated a power adaptor. Just jimmy out the fuel tank, swap it for the adaptor's cord, and you can power that weapon by pluggin' it into the wall! It'll just drain all the power from the town for a few seconds, that's all."

"Fiddleford, that's amazing—"

"Now, hold on. There's bad news," Fiddleford said. "Try as I might, I can't quite get it to draw enough power to activate those energy-destroying features what you'd need to disintegrate Bill. It'll work like a powerful laser, but nothin' else."

Ford sighed. "It's a starting point, I suppose."

"I'll send you home with the adaptor anyway. Never know when you'll need a big laser."

"Very true. Do you have any promising leads on other alternative fuels?"

Fiddleford shook his head. "It's the NowUSeeitNowUDontium or nothing. But I've got a hunch we could synthesize it under lab conditions. I'll letcha know in a few days."

And then the next episode started, and they dropped the conversation.

####

Ford let out a heavy sigh. "He's only had a partial success so far. But I'm hopeful he's on the right track."

"So, if he's working on this weapon, what are you doing?"

"Waiting, mostly. I don't know what else I can do."

Stan frowned. "What—that's it? You've been downstairs all day every day—if you're not figuring out how to destroy him, what are you doing?"

"Passing time somewhere I can be on call if he gets up to something—but I don't have to look at him," Ford said wryly. "And—as long as I'm waiting to hear back from Fiddleford, I've been... picking apart that list of spells Bill gave me. To see if any of them are tricks or traps."

Stan couldn't say he was surprised. That was his workaholic brother. A pamphlet of demon magic was like catnip to him. If anything, Stan was almost glad Ford had that letter to distract him. Over the past year...

Well, Ford was fine on land—when he temporarily had a mystery to solve, an adventure to pursue, an anomaly to study, a distraction to fill his time—but at sea, when his mind was unoccupied, he was listless. He had books he didn't read, field notes he didn't enter into his journal, games he didn't play. He fed himself and exercised and did chores around the ship like a robot programmed to take care of itself, and he stared out at the sea.

Last summer, Ford hadn't seemed happy but he'd seemed alive. Tired and angry, but alive. But after Weirdmageddon, a light in his eyes went out. Stan didn't know if it was the end of summer, or guilt over the memory gun, or the gap between finishing a thirty-year-long quest and discovering the next one. All Stan knew was the light hadn't come back on until the moment Bill Cipher, clad in a new body and a purple cartoon bedsheet, tried to cave Ford's skull in.

Ever since they were children, Ford had had a tendency to develop obsessions. It was somehow simultaneously both what made him most interesting and what made him boring. Depended on the obsession. But these all-consuming interests had always tended to last a few months, at most a year; and he'd never seemed to be without one, much less for nine months. Stan had no idea what carrying a single obsession for three decades might have done to Ford's mind.

Stan was glad something had woken Ford back up, and he worried that losing that focal point again might leave Ford permanently adrift. But another part of him worried that, this time, Ford wouldn't let the object of his obsession go. He tended to collect things related to his obsessions.

But then, he usually tended to like his obsessions. He hadn't seemed bothered to burn the contents of his creepy Bill shrine last summer. Ford wouldn't do anything stupid, Stan told himself. Ford hated Bill. "So? Were any of the spells traps?"

"Not... so far, no." Ford sounded irritated by this.

Stan shrugged. "Makes sense. He's trying to butter us up. If that idiot thinks being nice to us for a week or two is gonna make up for the years of grief he's given us—"

A loud rattle-clattering below made them both start. Stan sat bolt upright. "What the—?"

Ford inched to the edge of the dormer roof, knelt down, and leaned over the edge just far enough to see the window.

Bill's face was pressed to the glass, eye rolled up toward the roofline. He grinned in surprised delight and shouted through the glass, "HEY, STANFORD! What are you doing up here?! I thought you were downstairs!"

"Ugh." Ford turned to grimace at Stan. "Speak of the devil."

Bill pounded on the glass again. "Hey, Sixer! SIXER! Open the window!"

"Why?"

"I wanna talk!"

"No."

"Come ooon, the kids ditched me and I'm bored! There's no one in the house to talk to! The old lady's asleep and Stanley's on the roof, so—" He abruptly fell silent, squinting with deep suspicion at Ford-who-should-be-in-the-basement kneeling on the-roof-where-Stan-should-be, and said, "Wait. Are you Stanley right now? Show me your hand."

Ford did not. "Go away, Bill." He left the edge of the roof for his cooler seat.

"Get back here!" The pounding redoubled. "I don't care which Stan you are! If you don't wanna talk, I can always go wake up Dolores!"

Ford looked at Stan. "Mrs. Ramirez's name is Dolores?" He had gotten used to everyone calling her Abuelita.

Stan stomped on the roof, "Shaddup!"

Bill did not shaddup. "Come ooon!"

Stan sighed in defeat and heaved himself to his feet. "If he keeps that racket up he's gonna break that window, never mind that hex you put on him." When they'd taken out the original Bill-shaped window, Stan had replaced it with the cheapest window he could find. He didn't think it was very durable. "How much trouble can he get in with one open window twenty feet above the ground and both of us watching him?"

Ford Frowned.

"Don't gimme that look. Do you want to pay for a broken window?" Stan flipped through his keys for his key-shaped emergency lock pick, leaned over the edge of the roof, and wedged the pick into the window frame. The latch popped open. Lucky this window was so cheap, that wouldn't have worked on one with deluxe features like "airtight weatherstripping" or "a properly-fitting frame." Stan swung open the window. "Okay, you have our attention. Now what's the fastest way we can get rid of you?"

Bill clumsily climbed out to sit on the windowsill with his legs in the shack, and leaned back so he could see up onto the roof. "Hiya Fo—" He lost his balance, flailed, and yelped as he toppled backwards.

Stan and Ford lunged forward to seize an arm each. Stan snapped, "What are you doing, you maniac?!"

Bill stared up at them both in wide-eyed amazement. "You do like me."

Stan made a noise of disgust, let go, and wiped his hands on his pants like Bill had cooties.

Ford said, "We like you trapped in that body and not free to cause the apocalypse."

"I heard 'we like you'!"

"Shut up." Ford managed to haul Bill back upright. (Touching Bill felt wrong—all soft flesh and skin and the suggestion of bones underneath. Even when looking right at Bill's human body, Ford still expected him to feel like heavy shadows and heatless flames.) From this close, Bill reeked of cider. "Just how much have you had to drink?"

"Not so much I won't remember whatever you say in the morning, so be nice to me!" Bill laughed. He leaned back, this time hanging by one hand off the window frame to precariously maintain his balance, and grinned up at Ford. "So! The least fun person in the house has finally emerged from his lair? And you didn't even come into the house to join in the Summerween festivities! 'All work and no play'..."

Ford had to crouch at the edge of the roof, hovering nearby in case Bill lost his balance again. "I wanted to participate in Summerween, actually. It just so happens that the last person I'd ever spend a holiday with is in the house."

"Listen, Stanford. I know you're holing up in your study for days on end just to hurt me. But let's be honest, you're hurting yourself more! When's the last time you saw the sunlight! Look at how pale you're getting, you look like a vampire."

Stiffly, Ford said, "It's costume makeup. That's my vampire costume." Stan laughed.

"It what." Bill flipped up his eyepatch and squinted blearily at Ford's face.

Wordlessly, Ford bared his teeth to show off his plastic vampire teeth.

"Oh." Somewhat deflated, Bill said, "Nice work, it's convincing."

"Thanks," Ford said grudgingly. Giving in to his curiosity, he gestured toward Bill's (somewhat disheveled) reddish-yellow wig. "What are you."

"Oh!" Bill perked back up. "You've got to see the whole thing. Hold on—" He turned around in the window, ignoring how Ford half reached for him in case he needed steadying, until he got his legs outside to dangle on the roof. "What do you think!"

Ford looked over the brown toga flared out like a cone, the eruption of red hair, the small paper city below, and said, "Mount Vesuvius and Pompeii? Very clever."

Bill's face lit up. "Finally! You're the first person all day to get it!" He smoothed out the skirt proudly, his jerky gestures just a bit more exaggerated than usual. "Do you know how long I've wanted to go to a costume party as Vesuvius? But nobody off Earth would get it! And now that I'm finally here, I can't go to parties and I'm shaped more like a mandrake than a volcano." He flung up his hands, wobbled, and caught himself before Ford had to intervene. "But at least you got it. I knew I could count on you, IQ."

He sounded so sincerely grateful. Ford regretted calling the costume clever. It was, but Bill didn't need the ego boost.

"Oh! By the by—I didn't think you'd emerge before the day was over, so I saved this." Bill fished around in his toga until he retrieved a mini pack of jelly beans. "Here!"

Ford eyed the pack. "Why is it open?"

"Because you only like the weird-shaped jelly beans, so I ate all the normal beans and saved the weird ones in one bag."

"I don't want this. You touched every one of the beans, that would be disgusting even if they weren't coming from you," Ford said. "Anyway, this is a patently transparent attempt to buy your way into my good favor—"

"It sure is, Ford, and if you don't accept it I'll get to be annoying about your ingratitude for weeks! Is that what you want? You know I'll do it. Everyone will be on my side—"

Ford sighed, but snatched the bag from Bill's hand. "Fine. Now drop it."

"That's more like it!" Bill favored Ford with an approving smile. "Anyway, it's just about the only candy left in the house, I ate everything else—hey, have you ever been cross faded on cider and a sugar rush?"

Ford was still trying to decide whether he wanted to engage in this one-sided conversation enough to ask Bill what "cross faded" meant when Bill moved on without him: "It's—not that interesting, actually. 6 out of 10. Anyway, all that's left in the bowl is mints and wrappers. And Mabel even managed to give most of the mints away—hey, she's so nice, did you know she's helping to resurrect the Summerween Trickster?"

She was doing what? "No. Why?"

"She's so nice."

"You just said that."

"What is she so nice for. What's she getting out of it," Bill asked, more to the universe at large than to Ford. "If more humans were half as nice to freaks as she is, your rotten planet wouldn't need people like you and me to save it."

Ford didn't even know where to begin with that. He looked to Stan for help.

Stan was sitting straddling his lounger, elbow on one knee and chin in his hand, watching this exchange like he was watching a weird bug on the wall try to navigate around a picture frame. At Ford's glance, he rolled his eyes and pantomimed sipping from a drink.

He could say that again. Ford cleared his throat. "Bill, maybe you should..."

"Hey," Bill said. "Great talk, we really should catch up more sometime. And pull your weight next time, I always have to do all the talking. But right now, I'm..." He gestured vaguely off to the side. "I'm gonna lie down and try not to throw up. Ciao!" He swayed as he tried to get back in the window, tumbled backward into the shack, and thudded heavily on the floor. "Ow."

Ford gingerly shut the window.

Stan turned up the boombox. "Chatty drunk, isn't he."

"He's chatty sober, too." But in front of the kids? Neither of them saw Bill as a role model, but they still didn't need to be exposed to that kind of behavior. Especially when the responsible adults were outside or asleep... "Did we really leave Bill alone in the house with the kids?"

"W—I—" Stan shrugged defensively. "They were all right! They can take him! They're doing karate or whatever! You didn't see how Mabel flipped him at the mall! It was like David wrestling Goliath."

"David and Goliath didn't wrestle."

"You know what I mean."

Ford supposed he didn't think Bill was any threat to the children. At least, not right now, and not physically. He felt like he'd know if Bill was about to try anything.

He looked at his open bag of gross felt-up jelly beans. Speaking of trying to butter them up... Ford wound up and chucked the bag as hard as he could.

He stared into the dark after it.

A small part of him was beginning to wonder whether this wasn't all just an attempt to get Ford's guard down. The gifts, sure, that was as clear-cut a case of bribery as you could get. Nothing ambiguous there.

But the endless chatter... Back when Ford had called Bill his Muse, this was exactly how he'd wanted Bill to talk to him. Not in the flighty half-distracted way of a friendly businessman catching up on a work project's progress before hurrying on to the next meeting; but just talking for talking's sake, talking for the company.

Getting what he once had longed for made his skin crawl. And he couldn't even tell if Bill was acting.

The boombox let out a ghastly banshee shriek. Ford and Stan both jumped, then laughed awkwardly.

Ford sat on the cooler again. "Is it just me, or... did Bill completely ignore you as soon as he realized I was up here."

"Well. I wasn't gonna mention it. I didn't wanna sound jealous of the attention. But yeah—he's been doing that since he got here. If you're in the room, he tunes everyone else out."

"I thought it was in my head." And he hadn't wanted to sound like he wanted to imagine Bill was favoring him.

"And you do the same thing around him," Stan said, and laughed at Ford's flinch of alarm. "It's—it's fine, I get it. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right? You've got some kind of superhero-supervillain nemesis thing."

Ford got the distinct impression that Stan was offering him a convenient excuse for the tunnel vision. He took it. "I suppose that's true." The way his jaw clenched and his shoulders tensed around Bill certainly felt like a "nemesis" reaction.

But if Stan thought Ford was a bit too preoccupied by Bill... well, maybe he was right. Once Ford had gotten over his initial wave of fear, of despair, of outrage at the injustice, at finding Bill was still alive—there was a part of him that was almost relieved. A part of him that had been on guard against nothing for the past year, twisting around looking for an absent threat. Now that it knew where the threat was, that part of him could finally settle down and watch Bill with steady, certain eyes. Having nothing to worry about made him more anxious than having one thing to always worry about.

(Maybe Shermie's kid had been on to something when he suggested Ford might benefit from therapy.)

Knowing Bill was back didn't put the old starlight and awe back in that hole Bill had left in Ford's chest. But dread could fill a hole all the same.

Ford tried to push Bill out of his mind and the conversation. "You think I'm like a superhero?"

"You run around fighting monsters with a space laser. What else would you be?"

"Huh." Well. That made his night.

"Just as long as you don't pull that 'hero spares the villain to show how good he is' shtick."

"Never." Ford laughed ruefully. "I think I left 'good' behind a few felonies back." He'd probably left "good" behind the night he accepted the portal blueprints.

"Couple stragglers," Stan said, nodding out into the dark. It took Ford a moment to spot the costumed kids and remember it was Summerween. "I recognize those costumes, I scared them off an hour ago. What are they doing back?"

Ford squinted at them. "Are those toilet paper rolls?"

"Wh—Hey! What are you little runts— Hey!" Stan leaped to his feet, shaking his fist at the kids below. "Get away from my car! Stop that! I'll have you know that's a classic— No, not the eggs!"

Ford slid out his freeze ray, turned down the power, and offered it to Stan. "Here. At this power and distance, it'll feel like getting pelted with invisible snowballs."

Stan snatched up the weapon. "Eat this, twerps!"

The Summerween night air was filled with the screams of terrified children and the evil laughter of an old man.

####

Wow. It sure sounded like everybody was having fun. Outside. Without him.

Bill was nauseous.

He stared at the spinning ceiling, flat on his back, one leg on a cushion and the rest of him on the floor. 

Bill was nauseous and alone. The loneliness tore at his throat. Even Mabel had ditched him. Of course she did—he'd tried to kill her. He'd barely even remembered he'd tried to kill her until she brought it up. Had he tried to kill her? No, surely not—he liked the kid, he'd always liked her—he'd been faking to force Ford's hand, he never would have gone through with it. He would've teleported her into another room and pretended he'd disintegrated her. She didn't know he hadn't meant it. She was just mad he'd scared her. She couldn't take a joke.

But, Ford talked to him. Ford even liked his costume. It wasn't much, but it would get Bill through the night.

When he saw Kryptos again—when, not if—he was slicing him into a jigsaw puzzle for not taking Bill's call. The nerve of that guy, hanging up on a human without even waiting a few words to see if they had anything interesting to say. 

(What if it hadn't been an accident, he wondered? What if Kryptos had realized it was Bill and still hung up?)

(No. Of course it was an accident.)

He shut his eyes. He was probably too drunk to dream tonight. Well, he could try again tomorrow. His little lucid dreaming guide was currently teaching him to influence the next night's dream by focusing on a topic before sleep. Maybe tomorrow he could dream about the Nightmare Realm.

He missed home.

####

(Congratulations to the approximately 50% of respondents who correctly figured out Bill's costume when I posted the art on Halloween, you're officially smarter than everybody in Gravity Falls except Ford. This is one of those chapters with a whole lot going on so if you enjoyed, I'd love to hear your comments!!)

[goosewriting]

Underneath

summary: after getting stationed at the fortress inquisitorius, it seems a certain inquisitor takes an interest in reader.

relationship: inquisitor Cal Kestis x gn!reader

warnings: (18+) me being absolutely delulu, slow-burn-ish??? as it can get at 7k lol, making out at the end and fade to black, sexual tension if you squint, psychometry 

word count: 7.6k

A/N: started writing this back when i restarted JFO and got cal’s inquisitor clothes, so it’s been in the works for quite some time. also i had made pancakes back then and was sad about having no one to share them with, so i shall share them virtually with all of you <3

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

As long as you can remember, you’ve always been fascinated by the way people communicate with each other. Now, as a linguistics and behaviour expert, you count yourself lucky to be one of the probably few people who actually like their job. Stationed in an Imperial office on your home planet, you mainly monitor comms and analyse the occasional security holovid in an attempt to weed out any suspicious activity. 

In fact, it was thanks to you that a rebel cell was found, since you caught a suspicious exchange on unused frequencies, which earned you a promotion. You were content with that already, but then your superior said he’d put in a good word for you, as he’s always felt like you were far more capable than just listening to comms all day, and that you could use your skills better in service of the Empire. 

Fast-forward three months and lo and behold, you’re now stationed at Fortress Insquisitorius. 

It’s the first day and while you’ve got the grand tour of the place by a group of stormtroopers especially assigned to you (you still can’t quite believe you get your own little squad of troopers), there’s still some time before dinner. After dismissing the men, saying you’ll catch up to them later at the mess hall, you walk around, further checking out the place. 

As you turn a corner to a hallway you haven’t been to yet, you notice it looks rather deserted. You check the small sign on the wall; this leads to one of the bigger residential wings, but not yours. So you decide to turn on your heels and head the other way. Except that before you can even take a step in that direction, you’re stopped in your tracks by an invisible force and turned back around again. This hold around you isn’t so tight that you can’t breathe, but you do feel the pressure keeping your arms at your sides and your body suspended in the air, the sole of your boots hanging barely an inch over the polished floor. Unable to resist your captor, you’re met with an Inquisitor, of all people, who slowly walks towards you with one of their hands in the air, holding you in place.

They come to a halt before you, the helmet tilting slightly to the side as the eyes under the red visor study you, out of your view. 

“Who are you?” comes the distorted voice. Despite the modulator, you can tell by the tone and body language it’s a man. You’ve heard stories about Inquisitors, and despite being stationed at their base, you hoped you wouldn’t have to interact with them. Just your luck, and in an empty hallway no less.

Nonetheless, you tell him your name, station and even your office’s room number. Just in case. 

“I’m new,” you add, as if it wasn’t obvious by now. He remains eerily calm and still all the while. With a polite smile, you throw the question back at him, “And you are?”

His helmet tilts the other way ever so slightly as if your question took him by surprise.

“Inquisitor Kestis,” he replies after a second. “Cal Kestis”

“Well, nice to meet you, Inquisitor Cal Kestis,” you say. If you could move, you’d stretch out your hand towards him out of habit as a greeting, but he probably wouldn’t take it either way, so you’re glad you don’t get the chance to embarrass yourself. Yet, anyway. 

For a few moments, he just stands there with you in his invisible grasp. Is he looking at you? Did he space out? You suddenly feel your stomach complaining about its emptiness.

“Uhm, could you let me down again?” you ask, looking down at the floor tiles and back up at the red visor. “I’d like to go get dinner.”

Without a word, he places you back onto the ground surprisingly gently, then takes off in the direction he came from, disappearing from your view as he turns a corner. Well, you think to yourself with a satisfied nod as you make your way to the mess hall, I think that was a solid first impression. Good job, me.

The next day, you officially start your new job, and you’re all sorts of excited and nervous. You’re still intercepting messages, decoding and translating encrypted communications, but on a much higher level this time. These are important people you’re monitoring. You’re also called as an interpreter when there’s holocalls with parties who refuse to have droids in the room. Besides, the officers and generals seem to actually enjoy having you around, with your happy and optimistic demeanour in this otherwise cold and sterile building. You know that Imperial staff can be rough sometimes, but you’re convinced that the kindness you put out into the world eventually comes back to you. So you make sure to treat everyone equally, with kindness and respect, wearing a smile whenever you get the chance.

The days go on, and you see all sorts of people around the place. You do see some Inquisitors from time to time, mainly in the hangar. Occasionally they make an appearance in the mess hall as well, but they usually sit alone and for a very short amount of time on one of the round tables in the far corner of the mess. You never see Inquisitor Kestis there, though. 

As you sit with your little trooper squad, you chew on a stringy piece of meat deep in thought, not really paying attention to the conversation. This Kestis has you intrigued if you’re being honest with yourself. You still don't understand why he talked to you. The other Inquisitors seem to ignore you, as well as everyone else, most of the time. Besides, Kestis could have just talked to you. There was no need to Force-hold you or anything. Was he trying to show you he’s in charge or something? Doesn’t that mean that he felt threatened? 

With a light scoff at yourself — because the notion of an Inquisitor being intimidated by you is pretty silly — you take another bite of your food, your gaze scanning the mess hall without looking at anything in particular. The thing is that, since you don’t see Kestis in the mess hall like, ever, you only catch fleeting glances of him here and there when you see him slip into the elevator or turn a sharp corner at a hallway. You furrow your brows. It’s almost like he’s avoiding you. And that makes you just much more intrigued in what his deal is.

When the squad is in a good mood, you try to slip a question into the conversation about the Inquisitors here and there, asking if they ever saw their faces or what they’re like, and what they do. The troopers can only tell you the rumours you’ve already heard in a thousand different versions, the details getting more violent and out of hand every time you hear them. You dismiss most of those stories; you’ve noticed that a few Inquisitors walk around without a helmet. And others are pretty direct in their attitude towards others, getting into arguments or even physical fights when something bothers them. So they all want the rest to know who they are and be scared, many even seem to enjoy the fear in people’s faces. But Kestis? The few times you’ve seen him, he moves like a well-oiled machine. His face is always hidden, every movement is calculated, and he doesn’t waste his breath on any unnecessary syllable. That’s just proof that he has a carefully curated persona he wears when he’s out and about. But once he’s alone, when he gets to peel back all those layers? You truly wonder what lies beneath. 

One evening you find yourself thinking about him yet again, suddenly concerned about his eating habits, wondering if he’s okay and eating well. For some reason that you still can’t quite comprehend, you decide to just go to him. After all, if he didn’t want to see you, he’d just send you away, right? By now you’re very well aware about what the Inquisitors are capable of, but you’re both on the same side, so surely there’s nothing to worry about. 

At least that’s what you tell yourself as your feet carry you to the mess hall that evening.

After you’re done eating (the food today is better than you would have thought), you order a second portion to go. You start walking down the hallway, looking for a console or a droid. You know where the residential wing is, but you don’t know what floor the Inquisitors’ rooms are, and doubt there’ll be specific directions towards them. It isn’t long before you do find an R4 unit, and you ask where the Inquisitor quarters are. The cylindrical droid beeps and jumps a little with a startle, at first unwilling to tell you, afraid that if it does, the droid will be sliced in half. But you promise the droid that you won’t tell on it. So after some more convincing and promising the droid you owe it an oil bath, it finally brings up a holomap of the place, showing you where you want to go with a blinking dot. 

With a pat on the head, you say your thanks and go to where the map said. Soon enough, you find yourself in a wing of the building you’ve not only never been to, but one you didn’t even know existed if it wasn’t for the droid. The design of the walls is even sleeker here, and the sound of your boots echoes through the hallway. The further you walk into this wing, the fewer people and troops you come across. Even the constant rumbling of machinery behind the panels seems to be quieter here. 

After some more minutes of walking, you finally reach the door you’re looking for. There are no signs or name plaques, but you remember the number on the door from the droid’s map. The lettering is almost the same shade of black as the door, so it took you a moment to find the right one. But you’re fairly sure this one should be it. 

Taking one final deep breath, you knock on the door. In the seconds waiting for a response, you suddenly feel silly about being here. He’s a full-grown man. An Inquisitor. Why did you think he’d need you to bring him dinner? What if he didn’t like it anyway–

The door opens with a whoosh, and you look up. For some reason, you were expecting to be met with the red visor of his helmet. Which now that you think about, doesn’t make sense; if he’s in his quarters, he wouldn’t be walking around with his full uniform on.

Instead, you’re met with a pair of intense yellow eyes, and equally fiery red hair on his head. Your breath hitches and you’re not sure if it’s the surprise of seeing his uncovered face or the realisation that he’s incredibly handsome, and it just caught you off-guard.

He gives you a quick once-over, momentarily looking at the box in your hands, then bringing his eyes back to yours, boring into your very soul.

“Why are you here?” he asks in a flat voice.

“I haven't seen you in the mess hall today. Or, any other day, really,” you explain, unable to tear your eyes away from him. “Ever since I've started working here. So I brought some food in case you haven't eaten yet…” Your voice starts trailing off at the end as you once again realise how dumb that sounds out loud.

He holds your gaze a little longer, narrowing his eyes at you as if to scrutinise whether you're being honest or not. While you hope he’ll accept the food in case he actually hasn't eaten yet, that's all you expect to happen. You’re counting on him taking the box and leaving you be, so you can go back to your quarters and continue reading your novel, which you are actually looking forward to.

To your surprise, the Inquisitor takes a step to the side, silently inviting you in. You walk past him, slightly bowing your head as a thanks, and take in his quarters. You're not sure what you were expecting, but it's surprisingly… normal. Bigger than the barracks and other quarters you've seen, including yours, but still normal. There’s a banner with the Imperial emblem hanging on the far wall, a couch on the other side, and a round table with some chairs in the middle, as well as a kitchenette. Everything is neat and clean.

You hear the doors close as you walk to the table and place the box on it, turning back around to Kestis, who’s eyeing you curiously.

“It’s still warm,” you tell him, pointing at the food.

He walks by you to pick up the container, and that’s when you notice he’s still wearing his gloves. It strikes you as odd to be wearing them in the confines of his own room, but to each their own. Kestis walks to the kitchen and pours the food onto a plate and throws away the take-out container, then rummages in a drawer for a fork.  After walking past you to sit at the table, he takes off his gloves and places them neatly next to him on the table.

“Sit,” he orders without looking at you, and takes the first bite. You sit down across from him.

“Have you already eaten?” he asks.

“Yes, Sir,” you give the honorific a try, and he seems to like it. “At the mess hall.”

“I wouldn’t have any food to offer you either way,” he states, and lifts his gaze to look at you. “This visit is… unexpected.”

“I’m sorry for intruding, Sir. I didn’t mean to. I just–”

“You just what?” He shoots you a look akin to a glare.

“I was just worried, I guess,” you say. He scoffs.

“Please don’t act like you care,” he retorts. “If you need or want something, just tell me upfront.”

“What? No, I- I’m not acting,” you reassure him, raising your hands slightly to underline you’re being earnest. “I’m not trying to gain something in exchange. I was genuinely worried about not seeing you in the mess hall.”

His fork stops mid-way from the plate to his mouth, and the intensity in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine.

“Why?” he asks. You squirm slightly in your seat.

“I’m not sure myself, to be honest,” you admit, and you can’t help the defeated slump of your shoulders. “You were the first one who talked to me when I got here out of their own volition and not because of work. After our chat, I was hoping to see you around or something…”

The pause that follows lasts for a couple of seconds only, but it feels eternal. Until finally, Kestis lets out a short sigh and continues eating.

“I usually avoid the mess hall,” he says, his voice much more gentle now. “Too many people. Too much noise.”

“I see,” is all you manage to reply. 

Taking the two last bites of his meal, Kestis sets down the fork. That’s my queue, you think.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to keep imposing,” you say, rising up to your feet, and he does the same. Before turning around, you search his eyes one last time. “That’s really all I wanted to do: to bring you the food. I’ll be going now. Good night, Sir.”

The Inquisitor walks you to the door, and just as you walk past the threshold, his words surprise you.

“Next time you could bring two portions.”

You whip around, but the door whooshes shut with a hiss.

— — —

After that, you two fall into a strange routine where you get dinner to go and bring it to his quarters so you can eat together. The conversations start out as polite small-talk, but soon enough you can broaden your topics, ranging from work to anecdotes and fun facts you picked up here and there. 

While the tone remains polite and all in all pleasant, you do notice that he’s very careful not to touch you. You think it’s because he’s being respectful, but unbeknownst to you, it’s because he wants to get to know you organically, and not pry into the echoes of your belongings. Even if he knows he could, and you’d never even know, and despite his growing curiosity, he feels… compelled to try. For you. Because you bring a refreshing factor into his otherwise stale life, like a gentle melody in the cold vastness of space. 

It’s rare to run into Cal, as he’s recently allowed you (and only you) to call him, in the halls or in the hangar. As fate would have it though, you’re just about to get into a ship with your trooper squad to leave for a job off-planet, while Cal happens to be getting off his own ship at the same time.

You don’t want to disturb him. Even if you want to wave at him from afar really badly, or even call out to him. But you think he’d appreciate it if you keep your relationship, whatever it is, a secret. To your complete surprise however, once he spots you in the ever moving crowd of the busy hangar, he comes to you.

Beelining towards you, he comes to a stop in front of you, sporting his full uniform. And while the group around you stiffens up and some even take a precautionary step back, you feel very at ease in his presence, greeting him like you normally would with a smile. If you’re being completely honest, you feel kinda proud that one of the most feared Inquisitors on base came to you, and that everyone seems so scared of him while you are completely relaxed, though still remaining respectful of course. 

“Welcome back,” you greet Cal with a genuine smile. “I hope your mission wasn’t too eventful?”

“It all went according to plan,” the distorted voice says with a static crackle.

“That’s good to hear,” you reply. 

Cal’s head shifts ever so slightly, the visor looking past your face to something behind your back.

“Is there a problem, trooper?” the Inquisitor asks, standing a little taller as he addresses the soldier who’s shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

“With all due respect, Sir, we’re on a tight schedule-“

The trooper next to him elbows him in the side.

“Is that so,” Cal asks rhetorically, and you can’t really read his tone because of the distortion. Still, you decide to intervene.

“It’s okay, we can still make it on time,” you assure him and shoot the trooper a pointed look while whispering to Cal that he’s new. “But yes, we should probably get going. I’m glad I got to see you, though. Thanks for stopping by to say hi.”

Cal nods and makes room for you to walk past, while the others keep a noticeable distance between the Inquisitor and themselves as they walk around him. When you reach the ramp to the ship, you turn around one last time. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but you’re still surprised to see Cal standing there, hands behind his back, facing your direction. You give a little wave with your hand, then hurry up the ramp and take a seat. As the ship takes off, you’re checking the data on your holopad. You suddenly feel something on your cheek, like the faintest caress of a summer breeze, and you could swear you just heard a voice in your head.

‘Come back safely.’

As the ship activates the hyperdrive, your hand involuntarily comes up to touch your cheek where the skin still prickles from what you can only describe as a ghost’s touch. 

— — —

Ever since then, you notice a shift in the way everyone treats you, even your superiors, but especially the troopers. Some seem to get out of your way completely when you come walking down the hall, while others are especially attentive to your needs, offering to help you whenever you look like you’re lost or are searching for something. That one trooper who had spoken up to Cal, you haven’t seen him around at all. In fact, it isn’t until two weeks after the incident that you decide to ask one of your other squad members where he is, and she tells you that he got reassigned to not only a different squadron, but an entirely different planetary system. You have a hunch about who’s responsible for that, but you're still not quite sure why he would go to such lengths. Had he really felt that disrespected? You should watch your tone with him from now on, lest you also be sent to some backwater planet…

However, Cal still acts as he always has around you. You still eat dinner in his room, like you’ve been doing for a while now. And while it may just be your wishful thinking, it seems like his whole body language has finally started to soften too. When it’s just the two of you, his shoulders are not as tense, his jaw not as tight, his eyes not as harsh. Even the way he talks has changed. Others may not notice, but you’re literally trained for this. His choice of words has shifted to a less strictly professional lingo, allowing himself to articulate more freely, as well as use more face expressions, voice tone changes and hand gestures, compared to how he acted when your dinner routine started. At some point, he even stopped wearing his gloves around you all the time.

On one hand, for the past couple of months, dinner has been the highlight of your day. You get to spend time with someone who actually listens to you, not because of work, not because you have data they need, but because they just like to spend time with you. Or at least you hope he does. 

On the other hand, you’ve been noticing a slight knot in your stomach whenever you stand in front of Cal’s door, waiting for it to open. As well as the prick of heat on your cheeks when he reacts to your jokes (you haven’t seen him properly smile or laugh out loud yet, but you’ll get there). And let’s not forget the involuntary hitch of your breath accompanied by the skip of your heart when you discover him in the same room with you when you weren’t expecting to see him. 

Somewhere deep within you, you know what all of those mean. But you like the relationship that you’ve built with him, no matter how weird it is, too much to listen to your gut right now. So you just push all and any thought of that kind waaay back into the darkest corner of your brain, hoping it’ll pass.

— — —

One day, you’re feeling a little blue, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Cal. He asks what the problem is, and you tell him you miss something from your home planet. He assures you, whatever it is, he can get it for you. So you write down some things and he orders them. Only two rotations later, the package is at his door. 

He's really curious to open it but decides to wait for you to get there that evening. When you’re finally in his quarters and he shows you the box, you’re super happy and unpack everything: it’s candy, some fruits he’s never seen before, a jar of what looks like herbs, and another jar with a blue spread of sorts. 

You hum, thinking about what to show him first, and decide to go for the jar with the spread. Picking it up, you’re about to start explaining what it is while you open it, but whatever you plan to say gets cut off because of your fruitless effort to screw open the lid. You give it a second try, but it just won’t budge.

With a sheepish look, you wordlessly hand him the glass and when he takes it, there’s a cocky smile on his face that you’ve never seen on him before. You bite your tongue just in time to stop some witty remark, because it would have been a jumble of sounds and no coherent sentence anyway. For in a split second, all those feelings and thoughts you have been repressing come back all at once in one massive wave that crashes over you, drowning everything else around you.

If that small of a change in his face has such a big effect on you, you wonder what else there is. What would a proper smile on him look like? Would he ever properly smile at you? With you? For you? And if it was the other way around, if it was you wearing a cocky grin, looking down at him, how would he—

Oh, oh no. You’re in it bad. So bad. 

The sound of your name snaps you back to reality, where Cal is offering you the now open jar, waiting for you to take it. You blink a couple of times, your eyes moving from his face to the jar, then back to his face. One of his brows rises to give you a questioning look. Heat spreads on your face, ears and neck at the multiple images that appeared in your head. You give him a quick thanks, grab the jar, and turn around to hide from his gaze. Already familiarised with his kitchen, you walk up to the counter to rummage in the drawer for a spoon. Taking a deep breath to try and calm your racing heart, you turn back around. Cal is still standing by the table, following your every movement with his yellow eyes. And for some reason, you feel like all the walls you had managed to pick away at ever so slowly have been pulled up again around him.

You’ve heard stories of Force users being able to read minds, and right now you really hope they’re not true. What if he can sense your thoughts? Is he… disgusted at you? 

Somehow managing to regain your composure and willing away most of the prickling heat on your face, you explain to him what this spread is called in your mother tongue, which translates to something like “sweet of milk”, and how delicious it is.

You’re still by the counter, not really wanting to get into Cal’s space, and you take a spoonful of the jar’s contents and put it into your mouth.

“Hm, it’s so good,” you say, offering him the spoon to give it a try himself.

He suddenly seems to revert to his normal self and approaches you, grabbing a new spoon from the drawer. Ah, you should have known, he doesn’t like sharing cutlery. Or cups. Or… anything, really. Odd, but you’ve always just attributed it to him being scared of germs or the like, which is very valid. It’s probably the same reason why he’s wearing gloves all the time, especially outside. 

As he twists the spoon in his mouth, you see Cal’s face light up for the first time; he likes it. You’re relieved.   

“So glad you like it! Alright then, let’s make some pancakes. You’re going to love them,” you exclaim. 

Seeing the rest of the imported goods on the table, you tell him to try some candy while you work. You take off your bracelet, leaving it next to the box, and roll up your sleeves to get to work.

While the pancakes are cooking, you watch Cal’s reaction to the sweets. He first inspects it closely in his fingers; it’s shaped like a short stick with stripes in different shades of pink. You tell him the wrappers have trivia facts about animals, but they’re written in your native language. So while he chews on the soft candy, he walks over to you, holding out the wrapper for you to read.

“What does it say?” he asks, and you can’t help feel extremely endeared. Your eyes fall to the paper in his hands.

“It’s about banthas. It says that both females and males have a pair of spiralling horns, and they grow a knob a year. So you can tell the age of banthas by how curly their horns are,” you read out loud. “Huh, I didn’t know that.”

“Interesting,” Cal remarks with a short nod of his head. He chews some more on the candy while inspecting the drawing of the bantha on the wrapper. He seems to like them a lot. In fact, he goes back to the table and takes a second one. He asks you what they’re called again, saying he will probably order some more for himself. 

Flipping yet another pancake, you tell him their name and smile to yourself, glad you managed to introduce something nice and colourful into his life. Not that being an Inquisitor wasn’t fun… was it? Truthfully, you have no idea how they feel about what they do out there. You’ve tried getting something out of Cal, but whenever the topic of his work comes up, he shuts you out. You also try not to listen too closely to the gory details of their work that are talked about in quick whispers in the hallways. Either way, you like to think that you broke whatever monotony there could be for Cal, even if only a little bit. Maybe he even looks forward to your moments together, as you do.

The Inquisitor asks what the other jar with the herbs is. You explain that it’s actually leaves for an infusion, and ask if he could put the kettle on.

Suddenly this whole moment feels strangely domestic, and you reprimand your heart for yet another beat it just skipped. It’s just a normal hangout between… colleagues. Making pancakes and having tea. Absolutely normal, strictly professional behaviour, yes. 

You flip the last pancake and watch as Cal stands up to get back to the kitchen, but when he puts the jar with the tea leaves back on the table without really looking, his bare hand grazes your bracelet. With a sharp breath through his teeth, he suddenly tenses up, and his gaze is fixed on some spot behind you, without really focusing on anything. You’re not sure what’s happening, but he’s completely frozen up, and you start panicking.

After turning off the heat on the stove, you hurry to stand in front of the Inquisitor, unsure what to do. You call his name repeatedly, but he doesn’t react. Your hand comes up to the side of his arm but you hesitate, stopping just before touching him. Looking up at him, you try calling his name again; still no reaction. So you don’t really have a choice. You place your hand on his upper arm and give him a gentle shake.

“Cal,” you call yet again. “Cal, what’s wrong?”

He takes a big gulp of air, as if he had forgotten to breathe all this time. After blinking a couple of times, it seems he’s back with you, and his eyes dart back to yours, boring into your skull with an intensity that takes you off guard. You’re quick to remove your hand from him and instinctively take a step back to give him some space.

“A-Are you okay?” you ask. “You just spaced out really hard for a moment.”

“Yeah I’m- I’m fine,” he replies, and it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him stutter. “It was… something occurred to me that really took me by surprise, is all.”

“… Right,” you stretch out the word, waiting for him to explain what he meant further, but he reverts completely back to normal in an instant. 

“You asked me to put the kettle on, right?” he asks and is already on his way to the kitchen. 

“Uhm, yeah,” you follow him with your gaze, confused, then remember an important detail, so you join him in the kitchen. “Oh, but don’t let it boil. That will ruin the leaves. Just gotta heat up the water.”

“Got it.”

— — —

After some more preparations, you’re both sat at the table, and you show him how to eat the pancakes. They’re not like the thick, small pancakes he knows. These ones are larger in diameter and very thin. You demonstrate how to evenly apply the blue spread, stack the cubes of fruit you prepped, then roll up the pancakes like a tube and pick it up in your hands.

“Ta-da,” you exclaim. “And now, enjoy.”

Taking a big bite, you squeal at how good it tastes. It’s been ages since you’ve had this! 

Cal imitates what you did earlier, putting together his own pancake tube, and takes a bite as well. Even he can’t help the low moan that escapes through his nose at this fantastic combination. You giggle at the sight, enjoying it immensely that you get to see all these sides to him that probably no one else has seen. Once more, your brain is invaded by the thought of what else there might be to Inquisitor Cal Kestis. If he allowed you to lower wall after wall, layer after layer… what would you discover? 

You shake your head to rid yourself of the images starting to form. Nope, can’t go there. 

Instead, you decide to show him how the tea is brewed. You grab a small cup and pour some tea leaves in there, which are chopped much more finely than other loose tea Cal has seen. Then you place the special straw that came in the box in the cup. Cal has never seen something like it; it’s essentially a metal tube that is flat at the top and ends in a bulbous shape at the bottom full of little holes.

“So, let me get this straight,” he starts once he understands the mechanics behind your concoction. “Instead of putting the contained leaves in water and then removing them to drink the tea, you just put loose leaves in the water and filter it through the straw to drink the tea?”

“Essentially, yes!”

“That’s so many extra steps…”, Cal sighs, bringing his hand up to hold his temple.

“It’s literally the same,” you laugh. “Just in a different order.”

Pouring hot water into the cup, careful not to overspill it, you offer the cup to him.

“The things you make me do…” he says under his breath, taking the cup and giving it a tentative sniff. 

“Oh please,” you say teasingly, and a grin spreads on your face as you prop up your chin on your elbows. “As if you’re not having the time of your life today. I saw how many candies you ate earlier.”

Cal’s eyes dart down to your lips and back up so quickly that you miss it. With a defeated sigh, he gives the tea a try, grimacing at the bitter taste. You chuckle.

“It certainly is an acquired taste, but give it a chance. It gets better with time, trust me.” Kinda like you, you think.

He looks at the cup and back at you, kinda lost on what to do now.

“You’re supposed to suck on the straw until there’s no more water left, then you pass it back and I pour another one,” you explain.

“So many extra steps,” he repeats with a playful shake of his head, but he does as you said, if only to humour you. Once the straw makes the typical noise of there not being any more liquid at the bottom of a cup, he passes it back to you. With a smile, you pour more water into it, and have a drink yourself. He seems a bit shocked about that.

“Oh yeah, this is a drink passed around in a group, and everyone drinks from the same straw…,” you explain. Not to sound like a 12-year-old, a voice in your head says, but that just was an indirect kiss with an Inquisitor. You clear your throat. “Sorry, I guess I should have asked for a second straw so we could both use one each. I was going to offer another round of tea to you after I’m done with this one, as it usually goes, but if it makes you uncomfortable…”

Cal straightens up in his seat in surprise at your words.

“Why would it make me uncomfortable?”

“You don’t like sharing cutlery and stuff like that, right?” you ask, now confused as well, thinking back to when he clearly grabbed another spoon to try the spread. 

“Oh, uhm, that’s… never mind.”

He fidgets with his fingers for a second, but when he notices you watching him, he hides his hands under the table. You merely hum in response, taking another sip. Is he… nervous? The mood seems to have shifted again and now you’re completely lost as to what’s going on. All those years of training and studying, yet this man before you remains a mystery.

The rest of the evening is spent eating pancakes and drinking tea, holding a pleasant conversation, albeit a superficial one. At times, it feels like his eyes are completely fixed on you, but within seconds, it’s like he can’t even look at you. 

Concluding you’ve overstayed your welcome, you offer to quickly wash up, then be on your way. He merely nods and helps to bring all the dishes to the counter, then goes back to the table. You assume it’s to get another candy from the box. But you don’t mind; you offered to wash up after all. 

Silence envelops the whole room, the only sound being the water coming from the tap. As you’re putting the last of the dishes on the little drying rack, you sigh. Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea after all. Full of questions and doubts, you dry your hands on the towel, fully set on ending the evening by thanking him for getting the things in the first place, saying you had a good time and keeping your goodbyes short. You aren’t even sure if you’ll manage to appear here with a straight face for dinner tomorrow after everything that happened today, the problem being mainly the things playing out in your own head.

Being so deep in thought, you don’t notice the presence behind you, so when you turn around, you’re almost nose to nose with Cal. You can’t help the surprised little “ah, kriff!” that escapes you at his sudden appearance. With the counter behind you though, there’s nowhere for you to back away to, and Cal isn’t budging from where he stands. 

“Don’t forget this,” he says in a low voice and holds up your bracelet, which you had left on the table earlier. He’s so close that you can feel his soft breaths on your face.

“R-right, thanks.”

Looking anywhere but at the Inquisitor, you take the piece of jewellery and put it on your wrist. It takes you a couple of tries though, because your fingers are trembling. In fear, anticipation or something else, you don’t really know. You fumble for a moment until you finally manage to secure the clasp. Cal however, is still standing right in front of you, his hands now coming up to rest on the counter on either side of you. You don’t dare to breathe.

“Uhm, what’s going on?” you ask in an impossibly small voice. 

“I think you know.” 

It takes every last drop of courage in your body, but you scrape it all together and put it into lifting your eyes to look at Cal. And when your gaze meets his, the breath is knocked out of your lungs entirely. He’s looking down at you so intensely, so hungry, you can’t even begin to describe what you’re feeling. Your brain is long gone, you realise, so now you’re entirely at the mercy of what Cal does and whatever physical reaction that gets out from you. And it seems he’s very much aware of this, enjoying the state you find yourself in, if that tiny side smile is anything to go by as he leans in next to your head. You go completely stiff. 

“If you want me to back off, tell me now,” he says directly into your ear.

You take a shaky breath, and the last of the voices in your head all but screaming at you to get out of there is abruptly shut up. Anything and everything in your mind and body is Cal Kestis right now, and for a split second, you wonder if he’s using some Force mind trick on you or if this is all you. That thought dissipates instantaneously though when you feel Cal’s breath tickle your ear, still waiting for your response. You merely shake your head, and it’s so subtle he probably wouldn’t have caught it if he didn’t have his face right next to yours. 

With his cheek now against yours, you can feel him smile. Properly smile. 

“Good,” is all he says, and before you know it, his lips are on yours. 

His arms snake around your waist, pressing your body into his, and he devours you with such ferocity that you need a moment to regain control in your limbs. Once you do, your hands are all over him. One fists the shirt at his back, the other goes into the hair at the nape of his neck and you give it a gentle, tentative pull. The groan that leaves his lips is intoxicating, and you know right then and there that there’s no going back from this. Not tonight, not ever. This is all it took for you to know you’re officially addicted to Cal Kestis. 

He tilts his head to deepen the kiss further, his tongue pressing against your own and pushing both your hips into the counter behind you. You can’t help the low moan that escapes you. Any other day you would have felt embarrassed, but today you don’t care. You’re making out with a kriffin’ Inquisitor and it’s great. As if he could hear your thoughts, Cal gives your bottom lip a nip, starting to leave a trail of bites and licks along your jaw, while his hands slide to the backside of your thighs. Before you can process what he’s doing, you're being lifted onto the free counter space like you weigh nothing, with Cal standing between your legs. One of his hands slowly moves further up your thigh, and your whole body feels like it’s on fire. 

Suddenly, something occurs to you, and with a breathless “wait” you tilt your head to the side to take a breather and try to regain any rational thought you may have left. You’re both panting heavily, and while he looks openly annoyed at your interruption, he places one last kiss on the corner of your mouth, then backs away a bit to let you take a break. 

“What,” he finally says, and it’s less of a question and more of an impatient bark, as you still haven’t said anything.

Your brain is going at a thousand miles an hour, there’s too much input from everywhere, but you still manage to find the words somehow.

“I just- This is- Not that I’m not enjoying this immensely, but… why? All of a sudden?” you ask, finally feeling like you’ve caught your breath again.  

Cal huffs with a slight roll of his eyes, running a hand through his hair, and while you probably should be a little bit offended at his gesture, you’re suddenly way too focused on what you have the chance of witnessing: the way his hair messily falls into his face once he drops his hand. The clear blush adorning his freckled and scarred cheeks, nose and even the tips of his ears. The puffy lips, mouth still parted. The backlighting coming from the main room behind him almost gives him an ethereal glow, making the golden hue in his eyes stand out even more. You commit the image to memory. 

“The bracelet, when I touched it earlier,” he starts explaining, but when he sees you just as dishevelled as him, he decides he can’t be bothered right now. “It’s called psychometry, I’ll explain it to you later.”

With an impatient grunt, he just picks you up and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. 

“Right now there are more pressing matters,” he mumbles into your shoulder.

You realise you’re being carried towards the door that’s always been closed every time you come over. When you both approach, they slide open with a hiss and you’re met with his bedroom, as you’ve always speculated that’s what lies behind it. 

Letting you fall backwards onto his large bed rather unceremoniously, he starts climbing on top of you, but before putting any weight on you, he stops and looks down at you with a serious face. 

“Last chance to back out,” he offers.

You can’t help at chuckle, and grin up at him. 

“As if.”

Your hands shoot up to hold him by the collar. You have no idea where the confidence even comes from at this point.

“I want you, Cal,” you say breathlessly, and that’s all it takes for him to be on top of and all over you again. Let’s just say pancakes and tea aren't the only treats you’ll be getting today.

— — —

A/N 2: inq!cal has a sweet tooth, honk if you agree

A/N 3: where my palitos de la selva gang at B)

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @dybynyght, @galaxtic-writings, @kalea-bane, @soka-writes-things, @padawancat97, @riddikulus-obsessions, @optimisticprime3, @starilicious, @ivelostmyabilitytoeven, @alternatescififandomelover

[seniaasaysstuff]

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐬🍒 || Yan! Nanami kento x reader.

a/n- this is my first time writing yandere nanami. It’s kind of yandere but not really yandere lmao. I don’t know if it was up to standards but anyways enjoy lol. Let me know your thoughts about it and I’m always up for constructive criticism.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ

You were on your way to get something to eat with your coworker Nanami Kento.

He was a stoic man that never really showed how he felt except for the fact that he despised his job.

You kind of had a crush on him.

He was a beautiful creation of God.

The way his gaze trailed over your face,

The way his jaw clenched,

The way his hand flexed when he was frustrated, all of that made you feel things that you’ve never felt before.

You felt blessed to be in his presence.

You didn’t know how to act in front of the man.

You didn’t know if you wanted the man to choke you or to whisper sweet nothings to you. Actually you wanted both.

You were so mesmerized by him that you did not hear him call out your name.

He cleared his throat, startling you. You blushed.

You just got caught red-handed staring at your crush.

You knew he was way out of your league but still, you couldn’t stay away from him.

You awkwardly smiled and entered the diner.

You wanted to snuggle in his muscular arms. You felt a tad disappointed that he wasn’t your man. You quietly ate your food and left the diner stuck in your thoughts.

You were going to do it. Today was the day. You were going to ask him out.

You felt a bit scared because your past relationships didn’t end up well. All of them either disappeared or ghosted you.

You felt conflicted. What if he didn’t accept your confession? But you tried to cheer yourself up. So what if he didn’t accept your confession? You could live with that.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you ended up bumping into someone.

And speaking of the devil it was Kento.

You asked him if he could talk to you alone. He complied and followed you up to the terrace.

You stuttered. You took a deep breath as you gathered a small bit of courage and asked him out.

His face turned blank but returned to normal after a few seconds. He smiled at you.

For the first time in five years ever since you started working there he smiled at you.

Such a genuine smile that it made you want to drop to your knees to worship him.

You felt the tears starting to gather. He saw your teary face and enveloped you in a hug. He left a chaste kiss on your forehead. You felt as if you were on top of the world. He smiled at you, hugged you and even kissed your forehead.

This was the best day of your life.

What you didn’t know were the thoughts that he was having when he hugged you. He had been pining after you ever since you both met.

Your adorable smile,

your eyes that turned into little crescents when you smiled,

you tucking your hair behind your ears when you felt shy,

The red dusting your cheeks when he said something.

It was all his.

You were his.

He wanted to monopolize you. He wanted to fuck you silly until the only thing you remembered was him.

He had been successful in weeding out all the disgusting men that were trying to get close to his darling.

Those mere pests didn’t have the right. Only he had the right to see your smile, your laugh, your everything.

He smiled again.

He had finally gotten you.

[bandnerdlevel43]

Don't Leave Me

Ravio x LU Legend (Ravioli)

Summary: Ravio decides to tidy up their house a bit. Legend disappears to his room, as per usual, to do Goddess knows what. Ravio thinks nothing of it, until he hears the tell-tale sounds of his partner having a breakdown.

Word count: 1,650

Warnings: Grief, Legend has Koholint Trauma, hurt/comfort (but mostly fluff), writer projects her low self-esteem onto Ravio (shhhh it’s fine don’t worry about it), baby’s first time writing gay men

A/N: Hello, Ravioli fandom! Uhhh this is my first time posting my writing (ignore the cringefics I wrote on Wattpad when I was twelve coughs awkwardly), so any positive reinforcement/constructive criticism is not only welcome but encouraged! Also, not only is this my first time writing this sort of content, I myself am not part of the LGBTQ+ community. If I get something wrong, please tell me.

I was just kinda in the mood for these two when I realized I’ve already read all the content. Basically I had the “fine I’ll do it myself” moment that all writers have at some point. Anyways, hope you enjoy! Love you all!

----

Ravio hummed contently, arranging the dishes in a neat pile on the counter. He ignored the various crumbs scattered across it. Instead, he picked up the duster, reached in the cabinet, and swept up the film of particles. He poked it into a corner, and in response, received a small tink. Ravio tilted his head curiously and delicately brushed the object into view. It was another ring- not cursed, thankfully, but horrifyingly unpolished. Ravio reached in to pocket the trinket that had gone so long without care, and continued his chore with a cheery whistle.

But what was that? A sharp rustling sound, followed by… coughing, perhaps? Ravio’s ears pricked; he paused. Sheerow, playing around in some empty boxes? Ravio's brow furrowed. No, the sounds were human in origin. His eyes widened when a soft whimper reached his ears. Legend!

Ravio dropped the duster. He scrambled out of the kitchen and down by the hallway, skidding to a stop by the closed door to their shared room. He knocked timidly, calling out, “Mister Hero?”

No response. 

“...Link, please. You know I'll come in even if you don't answer.”

The silence only made Ravio more scared. He would take a “Get lost, Ravio” or a “Leave me alone, Idiot” over this. This quiet meant his Link was drowning in some way Ravio was still struggling to understand, let alone help heal, no matter how desperately he wished he could. 

He opened the door anyway. 

Ravio peeked inside, and almost immediately his heart sank. Legend was in the middle of the room, hunched over something that Ravio couldn't see. His shoulders were trembling with silent sobs. It was always a stab in the gut for Ravio, to see him like this. It hurt, but he had to ignore it. For Legend's sake. 

Ravio made sure his footsteps were easily heard. Legend didn't flinch, twist, or jump. Either he expected his entrance, or he was so deeply buried in his emotions that he didn't notice him. Ravio shuddered at the thought.

The Lolian sat beside the hero, careful not to make any sudden movements. He reached out, touching the other’s shoulder lightly. Legend inhaled sharply, provoking a violent bout of coughing. He shied away from Ravio’s touch, eyeing him warily. He clutched what looked like a sketchbook close to his chest.

“Hey,” Ravio said softly. “You can trust me. Remember?”

Legend squeezed his eyes shut, curling further in on himself. His breathing stuttered, and this time Ravio could see the tears spill from his eyes. He felt an ache in his chest, reaching again for Legend's arm. This time he didn't pull away as his hand rested on his shoulder, tracing little half-circles with his thumb. Ravio didn't dare do more, lest he worsen Legend's state.

“Please, tell me what’s bothering you,” Ravio whispered. “I want to help.” Legend still didn’t speak. Worry made Ravio’s heart beat as rapidly as a rabbit’s twitching nose. Abandoning all caution, Ravio nuzzled his head in the crook of Legend’s neck, puring as much love into the gesture as possible. Hopefully it would snap him out of his sorrow.

It didn’t. Legend stared sightlessly ahead, his eyes glassy with tears.

“Link…” Ravio pleaded. “Say something.”

Legend blinked, turning to look at Ravio as though just noticing his presence. He loosened his grip on the sketchbook, his breath hitching as he let Ravio see.

The drawing was of a woman, the invisible wind tossing her long dress and fluid hair to the side. A large flower of a deep shade pinned some of it back. Her posture was welcoming and bright, but the face… Something was off. The features didn't seem to fit. They just felt wrong.

Legend hugged the drawing back to his chest, shaking again with suppressed sobs. “I'm forgetting her,” he choked out. “I c-can’t remember her eyes. I'm losing her.”

Ravio swallowed hard. He tried not to feel spite, he really tried. But how was he supposed to comfort him when all he was was Marin’s replacement?

Ravio felt himself withdraw his hands. He was suddenly unsure, watching Legend mourn the love that came before him. Now he felt guilty for intruding. Legend must think him inadequate, a second-rate substitute.

“Oh,” Ravio finally said, lips dry and numb. “S-Sorry. I didn't mean to- I'll just-”

Ravio cut himself off, standing suddenly with the intent to leave the veteran alone. To remove himself as a burden. Yet he never had the chance. To his bewilderment, Legend had grabbed his wrist, his grasp like a vice and his gaze just as intent. Desperate, even.

“Don't leave me,” he whispered.

Ravio blanked. Baffled at his words, Ravio wondered why he would want him of all people to remain. He was just a reminder of someone far more precious; nothing more, no one special. But when he heard Legend croak the single word, “Stay,” in a voice so vulnerable, so scared, Ravio slowly sat down again, concern still lacing his every thought and emotion.

Immediately, Legend's arms surrounded him, pulling him close and forcing a small startled squeak from his lips. The Hylian gripped him tight, holding him like a man would a piece of flotsam adrift in a sea wracked with tempests. Legend buried his face in Ravio's dark curls. His actions were almost protective, in a way, and Ravio found himself melting into his embrace. Part of him was still in denial that Legend didn't want him to leave, but when Legend took Ravio's sudden lack of tension as a signal to bring him even closer, those doubts evaporated. Tucked in Legend's arms, he felt a reassurance that he hadn't felt in years. You're safe now, the touch said. You'll never hurt again, because I'll protect you. 

Except… Lolia. It wasn't hurt, was it? It was disappear. 

Legend was making sure Ravio didn't disappear.

Legend was making sure he didn't disappear. 

Ravio promptly burst into tears. Unlike Legend, who was quiet and subtle, Ravio sobbed hard enough he was sure the goddess could hear him. He hiccuped and he sniffled, unable to control the wave of emotions that came crashing down on him. 

Of course, Legend's natural reaction was to panic. “Ravio, what happened?” he exclaimed. “Did I hurt you?” 

His hands flew to his chest in an obvious display of how startled he was. Ravio's instinct was to pout at the sudden lack of contact. Instead, he hugged him around the middle and laughed wetly. “It's nothing.”

Legend's bloodshot eyes met Ravio's own moist ones. Something akin to worry flashed across his expression, but was quickly overtaken by a pink tint dusting his cheeks. “Stop it, then,” he sputtered.

Ravio merely hugged him tighter. Legend hesitated before digging his fingers in Ravio's silly hair. “I didn't think you'd want me here,” Ravio mumbled, his voice muffled from burying his face in Legend's tunic. “I thought I was making it worse.”

Ravio was quickly flabbergasted at his own boldness. His throat was dry as he stammered, “I-I didn't mean to say that! I'm so sorry, I just- I wanted- I-”

“Ravio.”

Ravio met the hero's eyes and immediately realized he had overstepped. Link's dark, violet eyes were as intense as ever, glaring at him with such a ferocity that wasn't typically directed at him. If he wasn't afraid five seconds ago, he was now. His ears tilted downwards.

“Don't you ever say that again,” Link growled, “or I'll kick you out, for good this time.”

First, Link's words surprised him. Then, they made him so unbelievably happy. He hiccuped out another sob as he squeezed Link's torso tighter, a wide, giddy smile spreading across his face that was so big it hurt. “Promise?” he whispered.

Link snorted. “Don't push it. I might just throw you out anyway.”

Despite the rough words, Ravio's heart soared. He never really meant it (probably), and it meant he was back to normal. No longer lost in the anguish of mourning. Not only that- Ravio wasn't a burden. Somehow, he didn't mess up. And he was so, so happy. 

“Thank you,” he finally sighed. “I'm glad you're back.”

“Sap.”

“I am!” Ravio protested with a laugh.

“I know. That still makes you a sap, Rodent,” Legend retorted. He hesitated, toying absently with Ravio's hair. It felt good. He liked it. “But… yeah. I… I needed that. Thanks. I guess.”

“Awwww,” Ravio cooed teasingly. “That was so sweet of you, Mister Hero!”

“Oh, Goddess forbid I show any positive emotion around you!” Ravio could practically feel Legend's eye roll. “Never mind, I take it back! Maybe I should kick you out.”

Ravio shifted so he could look up at the hero, his head in his lap. “You wouldn't, though.”

Legend raised a brow.

Ravio gave him his best puppy-dog eyes.

Legend swatted at him. Ravio yelped as the Hylian shoved him off his lap, a badly suppressed grin on his face.

“Okay, okay! I get it!” Ravio giggled, jumping to his feet. He laughed at the hero's oh-so-grumpy expression. It went well with his flushed cheeks. 

“Get back to work, you freeloader,” Legend scoffed. “I don't keep you around to be obnoxious.”

“Your pink ears say otherwise,” Ravio pointed out smugly.

“Ravio!”

That was his cue. Ravio made his escape, twirling out the door and shutting it on the red-faced Hylian. Legend didn't follow. He didn't follow because he cared. Lolia, he cared!

Sheerow was waiting for him outside, fluttering lightly on the breeze drifting in from the open window. Ravio greeted the bird with a warm “Hello, Sheerow”, and opened his palm to offer a space for him to land. His companion complied, perching on his fingers, who in turn tickled the top of his head with a finger.

“Come on, Sheerow,” he said, bouncing, almost skipping, towards the kitchen where he had abandoned his project. “Let's get back to work.”

[roses-edge]

Hi!! Do you know anything about how the ideas of sex and gender became sperated?

To me, they've always been synonyms. It's just that "sex" was a scientific term (bio and med) and that "gender" was the everyday term. Just like how "menstruation" is a scientific term but people would generally say "period" instead, unless you're in a health class or at the doctor's.

I know obviously trans people say they see sex and gender as different (although they really don't always act like they do…..I'm thinking specifically of trans people who want to change their sex marker on driver's liscenses and birth certificates but I'm sure there are other examples.) And I still have no clue what they actually mean by gender.

Anyway! I started looking into gender critical because the phrase made me think GCs were critical of gender roles and stereotypes. But it sounds like GCs also consider gender to be different than sex and I don't quite understand it.

I've seen GCs say they're for gender abolition. So when you say "gender" are you using it as a stand-in for stereotypes? Or does it mean something else?

(P.S. I'm sending this ask to a few other GC tumblr accounts to hear different opinions/explanations)

I remember there never used to be a distinction, too. I feel so weird when someone says "gender" now because theres a 50/50 chance they mean the original definition "sex" or the social construct.

As far as its usage in radfem spaces, we are using it to refer to the ideology trans people have constructed around it, so yes, we are using it as a sub in for "gender roles/sexist stereotypes."

And trans people seem just as confused about the meaning of gender lmao. That's why they can never define it. But to radfems, they define sexist stereotypes (blue is boy pink is girl). Which is also what it means to trans people - they say word salad to define it or they use circular defintions, but when they practice their gender, it is literally what radfems define it as.

And woman as well - trans ideology has made this a gender and this is the base for all of the feminine sexist stereotypes when it's original definition, when gender was a sub-in for sex, is "adult human female."

That's why we say gender isn't real. It's a created concept to try and make sexist stereotypes legitimate and further the oppression of women.

I hope this helps, I'm sure other radfems you ask will have further insite and hopefully know more about the language shift that happened. I will definitely be on the lookout to reblog those and thank you for asking my opinion!

[renoed]

so smitten | manager! s. kaiba x idol! reader

❥ — PAIRING manager! seto kaiba x gn! idol! reader

❥ — SUMMARY It was noticeable from the moment he was assigned to you as your manager. The way your eyes lingered on him.

# A/N a request!!! eek!! I loved writing this! Seto is just ♡♡♡ love of my LIFE

Seto Kaiba stood at the head of a long glass table, hands tucked away in the pockets of his black trousers. He was the first thing you noticed when you were ushered into the room - the only member of staff you didn't recognise. The fact he stood taller than everyone else made him difficult to miss.

You'd been sat down at the opposite end of the table and one of the senior staff members had began rambling about how your manager was moving on to a rival company. It wasn't new information; she had actually come to you before she accepted the position and you'd encouraged her to make the jump.

"We hope that you'll be able to get along with Kaiba as well as you did with Kujaku!"

The tall brunet bowed down politely to you, "I'll do my best."

As he straightened himself up again, you noticed that his rectangular glasses had slipped down his nose. A long, slender finger pushed them back up to frame deep, blue eyes. Attractive was an understatement.

You let your lips curve up, crossing one of your legs over the other, "I'm looking forward to seeing what you can do."

He didn't falter at your words, or the suggestive hum you put behind them.

It didn't take long for Seto to prove that he was a phenomenal manager - better than Mai had been, as much as you hated to admit it.

Your schedule was consistently filled, while also providing you with consistent breaks. From follower increases to sales increases, Seto seemed to know exactly how to achieve anything.

"Fuck!"

That's why it came as such a surprise for you to hear him shout from your place stood outside his door, a paper bag of doughnuts tucked under your arm and two hot drinks in your hands.

"Seto? Is everything okay?" you were lucky nobody else was in his office, dropping formalities always got you scolded. You couldn't remember when you had gotten so casual with him.

Walking into his office you were met with an unfamiliar sight: tousled hair, an untucked shirt, glasses lazily left on his desk. The room, and Seto himself, looked like a tip.

"No, this could permanently damage your career. It's the furthest thing from okay that we could possibly manage."

"Slow down a second," you placed your things down on his desk before moving to stand next to him, "what's actually happened?"

A brief moment of silence settled between you before he opens his mouth again, "dating scandal."

Oh.

You didn't think before you'd asked, "between me and who?"

He tilted his phone so he could show you the screen, free hand moving to massage his temples, unwilling to look towards you.

Oh.

Any words of encouragement dropped away at the realisation that it was a photo of you and him on the screen. He's holding an umbrella over the pair of you and you're laughing at something, smile hidden behind your hand. If you squint you can see the hint of a smile on his own lips.

You remembered when that was taken: Seto had been particularly nit-picky with your performances and was telling you all his 'constructive criticism' without a single positive comment. Normally you wouldn't have batted an eye - that's just how he is - but it had really upset you and, in a rage, you decided you'd walk yourself home in the pouring rain because you couldn't bear to be in a car with him.

The pattering of rain on the pavement had completely drowned out any other sound around you, except when a car drove past and narrowly avoided getting you absolutely drenched. You weren't very far off anyway.

"You're being childish."

Seto's voice was barely audible above the rain but it was loud enough to make you stop in your tracks and wait for him. The tap of his business shoes against the pavement was unheard as he walked over to you, only stopping a couple of paces behind. In his left hand was an umbrella.

"You'll catch a cold-"

"I don't think it's childish to be upset when all you ever give me is negative feedback," came your mumbled reply, "is that all you see in me? The worst parts of my performance?"

You waited for him to make a snide retort; something about you being sensitive or unfit for being an idol. It didn't come.

Instead, the umbrella he had been holding above himself was outstretched to you. It was difficult not to break into a small smile at the action: Seto Kaiba was useless with pretty words but he knew how to make his actions count.

"I'm sorry," the words were stiff and he bowed slightly, still holding the umbrella above you as rain trickled down his hair, dropping onto his glasses and falling from the tip of his nose.

"You'll catch a cold."

Anybody else would have missed the way his eyes widened as you gently pushed on the umbrella, stepping towards him until you were both covered from the rain.

"Well, that should be easy to manage, right? Just put out a statement about how I'm being escorted by a member of my staff?" this wasn't the first time something like this had happened, a collaboration with solo-artist ATEM had created rumours immediately. You weren't sure what made this situation any different.

Seto didn't spare you a glance, just shoved his phone into your grasp and buried his face further into his hands.

The original photo had been captioned 'Them ♡: a 🧵' and beneath it were countless photos of you and Seto.

Standing together at a shoot in the winter, your hands in fluffy mittens wrapped around his. Red dusted his cheeks and at the time you had just brushed it off as the cold.

Talking together at an event, both dressed to the nines with amicable smiles on your lips.

It went on and on and on: him handing you coffee; you poking fun at him; eating at a restaurant together (although other staff members were there).

It was when you reached the last post - a short video with a screenshot next to it, captioned 'so smitten', that you began to understand.

Taken from fairly early into his role as manager, you're both stood with some other staff. They're talking to the small group about something and you glance away from the speaker to look at Seto. He does the exact same.

This moment of you catching his gaze is what has been screenshot. It's an unspoken softness that makes your stomach twist and throat tighten.

"I'm sorry," his voice was barely a murmur, eyes unwilling to meet yours, "I'm not sure how to fix this."

You had never seen him look weak before. Now he was sitting next to you, hunched over with a creased shirt, tie hanging loose and hair standing up in every direction. It felt ironic that the sight made your heart catch in your throat. You put the phone down on his desk.

"Maybe I don't want to fix it."

The words were unsure and shaky as they left your lips, but they were loud enough for Seto to hear.

"That's ridiculous- did you not hear me say this could permanently damage your career? This isn't just a joke for us to laugh at in a few months-"

Before he has chance to continue his rant, your hands grasp at the collar of his shirt and pull him towards you, lips clashing together messily. He stiffens for a second before kissing you back, only to pull away a few moments later.

"Let me be childish this time: I don't want to fix it."

The damage was done already; the rumours had already started. There was little you could do except entirely remove Seto from your staff, which was a none-option for you anyway.

You lightly tug on his collar again, "are you okay with that?"

His hands gently move to clasp your wrists, pulling you into him wordlessly until your lips meet again. More than okay, is what you settled on as his answer.

reblogs are hugely appreciated ♡ [masterlist]

[ihearttish]

you’re making me high’

pairing: shuri udaku x black fem!reader ft; emerald haywood

word count: 6.5k

Synopsis: after you and shuri split, it is up to you to go about getting over the breakup. what would happen on a night out trying to do so?

warnings: ( 18+ smut) mean!shuri, adult language, fingering, thigh riding, (if you squint) strap!slinger!shuri, dirty talk, hair pulling, choking… (pure filth)

A/N; hii!! my names niya & wellll— i am quite VERY new to writing so cut me some slack please !🙏🏽 i do NOT mind constructive criticism, so feel free to give me tips or what not in the comments, i’ll only get better by you doing so :) anyways, i hope you guys enjoy this fic as much i as i enjoyed writing it! take care <3

tags: @abenomeiiii @playhousedistee @vampzxi @heejayy @amplifiedmoan @shurismainbxtch @inmyheadimobsessed @sapphicvqmpires @oceean ( comment to be added) 😭

dividers from @firefly-graphics

The club's neon lights flashed your eyes as you stepped inside, your heart racing with anticipation. you were out with your best friend Emerald, determined to forget about that ex-girlfriend of yours.

a break up in a relationship that could have been fixed is often the result of unresolved conflicts or communication issues.

in many cases, one or both partners may feel frustrated or misunderstood, leading to a breakdown in the relationship.

if these issues are not addressed, they can escalate and lead to feelings of resentment, anger, and ultimately, a breakup. exactly what has happened with you and shuri.

sometimes, it may be possible to fix a relationship that has ended, but it requires both partners to be willing to work on the issues that led to the breakup.

better communication skills, or making changes to the relationship dynamic. however, it's important to remember that not all relationships can or should be fixed. if issues that led to the breakup are too significant or if one or both partners are not willing to work on them, it may be best to move on. moving on wasn’t something you knew how to do in this case.

it simply hurt too much.

you and shuri were together for two and a half years. what didn’t seem to be something so temporary, was.

the arguments every day, the victimizing, going days without talking to each other, the list could go on. you just couldn’t take it anymore & apparently shuri was tired of it as well. they were all things that can go wrong in a relationship that you wanted to last forever (but did not), went wrong and boy did it hurt like hell when you finally sat down, had a drink, and realized it.

most days you would find yourself starting to miss shuri. most days you wish things would have went differently between the two of you. you wished that she wouldn’t have given up on you two so easily.

other days you think it was a good thing.

shuri was constantly running away from her feelings. it’s like communication was where she drew the line. it’s like it became a boundary, one of the things that can hold a relationship together, the woman you thought of as ‘perfect’ finally lacked something so important. disappointing.

the whole point of going out tonight was so you can finally get that damn girl off your mind. shuri was like your drug and you needed her. like an addiction, almost. you wanted nothing more but to hear from her again. you didn’t care what it took, you just wanted your girl back. however, you wanted her to come back on her own. even if she wasn’t good for you, after all. you missed your girl.

emerald pulled out a chair for you to sit on at the bar. you took a seat and removed your leather jacket.

this would be the first time being back outside for you. you were honestly a wreck. torn, even. emerald being your loving bestfriend who was always there as a shoulder for you to cry on about shuri and any other things that would stress you out, (mostly shuri) she promised to help you out tonight. she didn’t promise to make you forget and move on, but she did promise to help get your mind off it. maybe not forever, but at least for tonight. (failed miserably by the way)

“i can’t believe you were able to get me out here, em.” you say in an embarrassed tone. following up with a chuckle.

“i had to, i couldn’t stand seeing you like that, y/n” emerald’s lips quivered at her words. so damn sensitive. she was really overprotective over you and she never once failed to show it.

when things got rough with shuri, she’d always threaten to ‘beat her up’. you found that part funny, you loved em but judging the fact that shuri would mop the floor with her without question, for obvious reasons, you found it historical. cute, but historical. you gave your best friend a toothy smile and adjusted the way you sat in your seat.

“what you tryna drink, em?” you cock your head to the side, flipping your curly hair out if your face.

“you want me to be honest?” she smirks, looking down at you.

“i’d like that, yeah.” you giggle at her question. she drug her tongue across her lips. “another time.” she smirked once more.

“i’m fucking with the martini though, you?” she side eyed you. “i’ll have whatever you get.”

…

“y/n, you look beautiful tonight, by the way.”

“oh, so other nights i look gross?” you teased.

“what? that isn’t— that’s not what i meant! the hell?” babygirl was fighting for her LIFE. “i’m just fucking with you!”

you chuckled, causing emerald to give you the dirtiest look. “see girl, that’s yo problem now,” she smiled. “that shit gonna get you snatched up one day, watch.” if only you knew.

you and emerald’s night so far consisted of a bunch of drinking, laughing and conversations that didn’t correlate to shuri. this was something you really needed. although, somehow your mind continuously kept landing on shuri.

“dance with me, em.” you say sternly, standing up and holding out your hand, awaiting hers.

“shit, why not.” she threw back one final swig of her drink and sat the now empty glass down on the table before she takes you by the hand, following right behind you as you guided her through the crowd of bodies on the dance floor.

you and em were now at least two feet away from each other on the dance floor, as the loud music transitioned from a hasty song, into a slower song. you swayed your hips left and right. whining to the beat. you felt and knew you looked good tonight. your brown leather mini skirt began to raise up more and more.

as the melody picked up, you moved your hips in a gentle, smooth motion, almost as if you were floating on the dance floor.

your movements were graceful and fluid, as if you were in a trance, lost in the music. within every beat, your hips swayed back and forth, following the tempo of the song. your eyes were closed, and a small smile played on your lips as you moved to the music, lost in the moment.

🎶 “ ‘Cause I'm in love with that girl

So don't be mad at me

'Cause I'm in love with that girl

So don't be mad at me

So what, you're from the other side of the tracks

So what, the world don't think we match

I'll put it down like my love's on wax, guess what?

I'm in love with that girl

And she told me that she's in love with me “🎶

emerald had her glossy eyes on you as you moved your body to the music. she couldn’t take them off of your curvy figure.

she then took a step closer towards you and held her hand out, nearly wrapping around your waist.

“can i?” she asked, waiting for permission to touch you in such an intimate way.

“y- yes” you hesitate. you barely got to get the word out before both of emeralds hands were found now wrapped around your waist, she took your hand as she spun you around, your back now on her front. she began swaying her hips but you were standing like a damn statue. this took you by surprise.

“em, i don’t think-“

she lowered her head down to your ear, her curls brushed against your neck as you felt the warmth of her breath before she spoke. “i don’t bite y/n/n,” she promised.

“just vibe with me, yeah?” her grip tightened around your waist which caused you to let out a muffled moan. emerald noticed this.

still hesitant, you started moving your hips to the beat again. you and her were now moving in sync. the warmth of her felt nice, you felt very safe in her touch and you grew to hate every second of it.

you hated that you wanted to only be this way with shuri. you hated that your best friend, of many many years was making you feel the way your ex lover made you feel.

although you and shuri were broken up, waves of guilt flourished throughout you. shuri swore up and down this would happen. was she right? she said that if one day you and her were to part ways, you’d end up with emerald.

you denied it, of course. em was your best friend and you never thought you’d feel such things for her because of the friendship you shared. you were almost for certain that it was the same way for emerald.

she couldn’t possibly see you that way. so you thought. you two were only dancing. right? friends dance.

the song slowly transitioned into another and it was a faster tempo.

🎶 “ I'm looking for a girl like you

Well here I go

Now, now, now, who's the baby bobbing

Dipping, dodging, crying, sobbing?

Looking to be mobbing cause it's just clocking and robbing

Oh hi now, welcome to my town

The illy I town, you got kids lifting eyebrows

Every time you fly down, so lie down

Full maxing, seeing you laughing

With passion happening

Every action has a reaction” 🎶

you noticed em’s grip on you loosened so you stepped away from emerald and turned to face her. “emerald, i appreciate you for this you know?” you start. “and i really adore you for attempting to get my mind off things.” your body stiffens as you play with the charms on your bracelet, with the charms that were gifted to you from shuri.

“listen to me y/n.” she stepped closer to you and grabbed you by your arm, her grip was tighter than before, causing you to breathe out.

she pulled you closer to her. “i know you’re fresh out of an relationship that you wanted to go well so bad, i get it, okay? i do.” she looked down at your lips, licked hers and then looked back up into your eyes.

you were just inches away from touching each other’s foreheads. “but i can’t keep holding this in anymore,” your breathing picked up, scared for what she might say next.

“i have feelings for you, y/n/n. i’ve always have. it was extremely painful having you come to me about relationship problems because i knew— i know that if we were ever together, you wouldn’t have to go through any of that and i mean that,” her lip quivered at her own words.

“i mean it with everything in me.” she choked. it was silent for a minute. emeralds eyes roamed any sudden expression on your face, begging you to say something. anything.

“em, how long have you been feeling like this?” you finally spoke, now holding her hand. “ever since we graduated high school. i love the bond we share together, y/n/n. i’ve only ever felt this way about you. i guess i’m tired of you not seeing my feelings towards you, now.”

“i’m glad you told me, em.” your cheek was now wet from the tear you just let fall down your face. she brushed away the tears from your cheek with her thumb and pulled you into a hug. “sorry if i killed the vibe, you were just loosening up.” she chuckled. “no no, you’re okay, emmy, i promise it’s okay. let’s continue?” you reassured her.

she nodded her head and you separated yourselves about and began dancing once again. almost as if that didn’t just happen. what even did just happen?! your best friend confessed her feelings for you and you said—— nothing…

surprisingly, emerald didn’t say anything about you not telling her if the feelings she had for you were reciprocated or mutual. instead, she just had the biggest sheepish smile on her face as you and her danced with each other to the new song that was on. a much faster one.

you were still unsure if you truly felt that same about emerald, or if anything could possibly work out between you too because as of for right now, this very moment, all you could do was think about shuri. her touch, the way she’d look at you & how easy it was for her to have such a impact on you, shuri has such a hold on you and you can’t seem to get enough.

you turn towards emerald to start dancing on her once more when you wish your eyes deceived you when you came into view with the last thing you’d want to right now, this very moment. behind em, sitting down at one of the tables was your ex.

Shuri was seated across the room. your heart sank at the sight of her. to make matters even worse, she was seated with another girl, laughing and having a good time. at least, that’s what it looked like. the girl she had been with had dark skin and long ginger curly hair. the bitch was all in her face. you immediately felt a pang of jealousy and sadness.

it was so hard for you to move on but here shuri was, hugged up with some girl. if you were white, your face would be as red as a hot tamale. you stared long and hard into her soul and before you knew it, her eyes met yours.

the look on her face when she noticed you was malicious. yet, the look on your face gave very much… distraught. you wanted nothing more but for her not to know that her being here with someone else, some skank, got under your skin. instead, you took matters into your own hands. not thinking clearly what so ever.

one thing moving to another, you found your lips on your best friends. you wrapped your arms around her neck as your lips continued sinking into emeralds. hoping it was enough to make shuri jealous. or at least feel what you felt.

you were also hoping this was for nothing and that shuri could see you tonguing your best friend. the kiss became sloppy and hot. however, your feelings for em hadn’t changed, you thought. you opened your eyes and stared into emeralds.

the smile she had on her face made your stomach sink because you’ve only done this to get a reaction from shuri. when you looked back over to her, the look she gave you was devilish. if looks could kill- yeah, you know the rest.

you thought you were done messing with shuri and that you’ve made your point across. emerald had other plans. her lips smashed right back onto yours. this time, the kiss was 10x more passionate and your lips begged for more as you gave in and kissed her back.

her tongue even made it’s way into your mouth as she placed her warm hands around your exposed waist. she kissed you hard and soon, your lips parted.

she leaned down to whisper in your ear once again. “come with me?” she whispered. the desperation in her raspy voice sent a chill or two down your spine. you were about to go and make out and potentially have sex with your best friend. what a night.

you gasped at her words before nodding your head. she held her hand out behind her and you grabbed onto it, following her towards the private rooms the club had.

having to pass your ex, you shoot a glance and once you’ve passed her, you could practically feel her eyes on your back as you and emerald maneuver your way into a unoccupied room, hand in hand.

emerald used your back to slam the door shut as she roughly pushed you against the door. you knew where this was going and your breathing was uncontrollable at this point.

she grabbed your chin and forcefully but gracefully crashed her lips onto yours. the kiss was even more sloppier, even more intense than the first time you’ve kissed her. this girl was hungry and you couldn’t tell whether or not you felt the same way or if you were just in the moment. your hands roamed her body and so did hers.

she broke the kiss and backed away before walking over to the couch taking a seat. she sat down manspreaded, her hands rested in her lap. she starred deeply into your eyes and took her lip in between her teeth.

she then motioned for you come to her and tapped her lap. still in shock that all of this was occurring ever so quickly, you slowly made your approach to where she was sitting. still quite hesitant, but you’ve already dug yourself into a deep hole.

you straddled her, sitting on her lap. your front facing hers. she used her thumb and index finger to lift your face up to hers before she kissed you for the 3rd time tonight. you could practically feel her hunger for you growing in her mouth.

she brought her left hand down to your lower back, taking a drag onto your perfect ass. “fuck y/n.” your mouths separated. “i need you so bad.” she whispered, still trying to catch her breath. “have me.” you challenged with a smirk planted on your face. fuck, why would you say that?

emerald lifted you up off of her slightly, pulled your skirt up a bit, revealing the black lace panties you had on underneath. she pulled them to the side and pushed right back down onto her thigh. she grabbed ahold of your hips and you winced at the friction.

“ride my shit.” emerald said in a low voice. you began to grind up onto her thigh. your wet core drug against her leg slowly. “oh fuck!” you moaned out. she brought her lips to yours as she allowed you to fuck yourself on her, your pace picking up by the second.

you pull away and stopped grinding against her. “emerald, wait.” you got up off of her and pulled your skirt down a bit. “i just-“

before anyone could make another move, the door to the room you were in crashed open. not the normal way to open it though. the door was split right down the middle. the loud noise caused you to jump back, a familiar tattooed hand was seen poking through the new whole in the door and grabbed the handle from the inside, unlocking it and twisting it open.

once the door swung open, there in the doorway stood shuri. your problematic ex. shit.

“shuri, what the fuck?” you shout. “so this what we doing y/n?” shuri said with a low voice before she took one step in. “ain’t i say this would happen?” she shook her head in disappointment.

“shuri i—“ you cry out.

“yeah? you what? you’re about to sit here and let your so called ‘best friend’ have what belongs to me, hm?”

her eyebrows furrowed, putting both of her hands behind her back.

“shuri, you broke up with me!” you put base in that last part. “y/n, i broke up with you to prove a point. look at you, couldn’t even wait to open your legs again,” she took a step closer to emerald.

“gonna let emerod touch you in ways i used to? huh?” she yelled out. “well,” she chuckled. “she fucking can’t. nobody knows yo body like i do. nor would anyone love you as much as i do.” she dropped her hands from behind her back.

“who the fuck is emerod?” emerald questioned.

“you’re literally here with someone else, shuri.” you stepped up in her face. “i’m not fucking with that broad, we’re just friends.” she pointed out.

“same for me and emerald.” you say, backing away. yikes, that’s gotta sting.

“let’s go, emmy.” you grabbed her arm and started to walk past shuri but she hurriedly blocked the exit.

“you think i’m some fool? you put yo lips on that bitch. them same lips that was on every inch of my body not too long ago?” shuri spat.

“yo, who the fuck are you calling a bitch?” emerald stepped in front of you, now face to face with shuri.

“you not hard, get the fuck out of my face, em.” shuri spat back. “you know,” emerald backed up, grabbing her hand. “you don’t deserve y/n,” she brought your hand up to her lips and and kissed it. “i do.” she finished. “yeah?” shuri let out a dry laugh. “yeah. i could love her better,” she promised. “and i could fuck her better.” emeralds words made your eyes shoot up to shuri and then at her. “prove it.” shuri commanded.

the room grew silent for a minute. you’re not too sure what she was implying. “that’s what i thought.” shuri grabbed your wrist, and tugged you along behind her, walking out of the area the private rooms were.

“aye, what the fuck?” emerald grabbed shuri’s arm, making shuri’s neck snap back towards emerald and before you knew it, shuri’s hand went right across em’s face. “leave us.” shuri commands.

“y/n-“ emerald manages to get out, while holding the side of her face. “i said to leave us.” she warned. shuri then began to walk off once she thought her point was across, holding you tightly as you walked with her out of the club.

shuri walked you to the passenger side of her car. she then opened the door but you did not enter. “shuri, that was really uncalled for.” you tell her.

“she’s a big girl, she can handle it.” she replies. “but you literally put your hands on her, that’s not okay. i’d be a terrible friend if i leave here with you.” you shot back. “true,” she says. “that ain’t got shit to do with me.” she shrugs. “shuri.” you spat. “alright. i shouldn’t have reacted that way, but seeing you with her made me want to do more damage then what i’ve already done. just be lucky i didn’t.” she confessed and you sigh.

“if you want to leave with her, cool.” she tells you. “but, i do miss you and i want to talk things out with you.” she smiles. “i miss you too, shuri. i’m gonna go find em.” you grin. you look over to your left and see emerald pulling off in her car. shit. “looks like your coming home with me.” shuri smirked.

you got in the car and shuri closed the door once you were in. she ran to the driver’s side, got in and started the car.

most of the car ride was silent so far. you still had another 20 minutes to go being that shuri’s house was quite far. the silence was loud, the sound of the wind blowing filled your ears as shuri drove on the highway with the windows slightly rolled down. “how have you been, love?” shuri broke the silence. “i’ve been—“ you pause. “fine.” you breathe out. “you know i don’t buy that, right?” she looked at you for a second and then put her focus back at the road.

“then why ask?” you ask. “just trying to make conversation.” she chuckled. you missed that. her laugh, the way she knew you so well, everything. “so, you didn’t give what’s mine away during our time away from each other, right?” she asked.

“i didn’t want anything from anyone but you shuri. i was really hurt.” you tell the truth. “you was about to give it up to emerod tonight if i haven’t shown up.” she mumbled but you heard her clearly. “emerald and i only went that far to make you jealous, shuri. i seen you with that girl so i just did the first thing i could think of.” you tell the half truth. a part of you wanted you and emerald to do the do but another’s part of you was still unsure.

“what about you?” you ask. “i’ve been way too busy missing you, nkoszana.” you gasp at the nickname that you missed so much. shuri placed her hand on your thigh, like she normally would when you’d be in the car together.

you missed that as well. her touch made you tremble and she noticed it. “what took you so long?” you wanted to know. she glanced at you with a confused look on her face. “what do you mean?” she asked. “i’ve been waiting for you to come back to me. if i hadn’t been with emerald, would you still?” you ask with a pained voice.

“of course i would, i just wanted to be right about something. luckily you were here tonight, i was going to have to give in and pull up or something if i haven’t seen you tonight.”

“so is that why you broke up with me? to prove a fucking point?” you shouted at shuri. “what? no. i just was running away from my feelings. i’ve realized that it’s the only thing i do. i felt like i had too much pride to tell you exactly how i really felt and you didn’t deserve that so i just did us both a favor and ended things.” not knowing what to say to that, you were silent. “i can’t be without you, y/n. instead of running from my feelings, i want to discuss them, from now on. okay? i want to fix us.” she claimed.

“then why have you been acting the way you have been?” you shot back. “because you and emerald were all over each other. i was afraid.” she admits. “afraid? afraid of what, shuri?” you look at her. “i thought she’d take you away from me. you never seen what i saw when you two were constantly together. it mad me feel,” she swallowed. “misfit.”

she finished. “shuri, why didn’t you just tell me that?”

“you wanted me to admit i was jealous?” she chuckled. “yes. all of this could’ve been avoided and worked out, you know?”

“i do now. i’m sorry okay? now that you know, can i have back my baby girl?” her voice got low.

“i don’t know shuri, i don’t think it’s that easy.”

“tell me what i need to do then?”

“promise me you’ll communicate with me.” shuri bit her lip. “i promise my love. i’ll try for you, i swear it.”

you smile and put your hand on top of hers that never left your thigh. shuri chuckled and leaned in for a kiss. you leaned your head in as well. you pecked her lips a good three times, but as soon as you pulled away, shuri licked her lips hungrily.

you could tell you weren’t the only one wanted more.

you knew your girl.

you look at shuri and soon she looks at you as well. she bites her lip and began to start slowly rubbing your thigh in small circles, the way she knew you liked. shuri knew just how to get you going.

she looked back at the road but continued to rub your thigh. she hand slowly made its way to in between your legs. she stopped when she reached your fabric on your underwear.

you took a deep breath as she gave you a look that says “can i?” and you nod your head yes.

“let me hear you say it, mama.” that made your knees buckle in your seat, which earned a smirk from shuri.

“i want you to use your words, love.” she repeats. “can i make you cum?” she asked.

“fuck, yes shuri.” she wasted no time taking her fingers to your clothed cunt. she started to rub your pussy slowly, in small circles on your clit.

“look at you, leaking for me already.”

shuri slid her index finger down your slit, stopping at your entrance. “fuck!” you cried out. she then slowly inserted two fingers inside your dripping cunt, pumping into you slowly as you squirmed in your seat beneath her.

she rammed her skilled digits into faster as your moaning became louder. “unh! shuri, shuri, shuri!”

“damn baby, i missed the way you say my shit.” her pace sped up, she fucked into you harder, increasing sounds of the high pitched moans escaping your mouth. she curved her fingers slightly, this made your back arch.

she moved her fingers in and out of you so well while driving with one hand. wasn’t nothing new for you but somehow, it felt better than it ever has. “oh— fuck shuri. i’m gonna- unh!” you spread your legs wider, letting her into you as much as possible. “i’m so fucking close, don’t stop!”

“yeah? you gonna cum on my shit?” shuri curved her fingers up, hitting all the right places, causing your legs to tremble. “yes, i’m gonna cum. shit!” you managed to get out. “mmm i’m gonna, i’m-“ before you could finish, you whined at the empty feeling of your pussy that had been leaking all over shuri’s seat.

“wh- shuri! what the fuck?”

“you gotta wait til i get you home, love.” she brought her fingers to her mouth and sucked off what remained on them. “i wanted to cum now!” you yelled at her, sounding like a big baby.

“i didn’t want my seat’s messy. you’ll thank me later, mama.”

“like i haven’t made a mess on them before.” you mumbled. “what was that?” shuri shot back. “nothing.” you pouted and crossed your arms, sitting back in your seat.

shuri pulled into her garage in her apartment. “come on big baby.” she mocked in a whiney voice.

“shut up.” you scoffed and got out of the car. you both walked to the elevator, you pressed the button and waited for the door to open. once it did, you both walked in and shuri pressed the floor number as you rested your exposed back against the cold wall. you looked everywhere but at her, clearly still irritated that she played with your nut like that.

“you really got a attitude, huh?” she said before laughing dryly. you ignored her. “do you hear me talking to you?” she stepped in front of you. you looked at her and then looked away again. shuri took her hand and grabbed you by your neck, forcing you to look up at her. “you really don’t want to ignore me right now.”

“you know i have an attitude, why ask dumb questions?” you rolled your eyes. the elevator dinged and she let go of you. “go.” she said, smirking. you walked out and stopped outside of her apartment number. shuri unlocked and opened the door and pushed you inside. she picked you up and carried you up all of the stairs, entering her bed room, she threw you onto her freshly made bed. “still got that attitude?” she checked. “not gonna change nothing so it don’t matter.”

“let’s fix that then.” she stood over you. “strip.” she demanded. you sat up and slid off your skirt first, then your cropped top & your heels. you reached for your panties but shuri smacked your hand away. “leave these on.” you obeyed and looked into her eyes. she once again grabbed you by your neck and pulled your face into hers, kissing you sloppily.

her slipping her tongue into your mouth made you moan out. your legs wrapped around her body as she laid you down on your back. still holding your neck, she let go and began trailing kisses down it. your breathing started to pick up from the pleasure her kisses caused. the kisses turned into sucking and small nibbles, you were for sure you’d leave her marked up completely.

she moved down to your boobs, cupping the right one and taking the left one into her mouth. she then gave attention to the other one, resulting in many breathy moans coming from you.

she kissed down your stomach, making you shiver at her touch. once she made it to below your stomach, she unwrapped your legs from around her and left kisses up your thighs. she also kissed around your aching cunt, begging to be used and abused.

“shuri, please.” you cried out. “please what?” she looked up at you. “tell me what you want baby.”

“want you to taste me.” you say. “that’s my girl.” shuri smiled and looked down at your leaking front. she played with the now wet fabric if your panties. “these look good on you.” she praised.

before you knew it, you heard a ripping sound. “shuri? what the fuck?” shuri created a hole in your underwear. big enough that it exposed your entire pussy. “look at her, begging for me to fuck her up.”

she then took her fingers to your clit. she rubbed slowly in circles, while looking into your eyes. “watch me, okay baby?” you nodded before moaning at her touch. she put her head down and slid her tongue over your clit. she licked and sucked on it, making you squirm and whimper.

“fuck, baby!” you moaned out. she took two fingers and stuck them inside of your hole while she continued to eat your pussy. she rammed her fingers into you like she did in the car, sending you over the edge. you instantly felt yourself getting closer and closer to your orgasm as your hips bucked upwards into her face, riding it out. “shuri! i’m so close, fuck!” you grabbed her head, bucking your hips harder. shuri curved her fingers and pumped in and out of your harder as well.

“unhh! i’m cumming, i’m- unhh” you were a moaning mess. you felt yourself release in shuri’s mouth but the pleasure didn’t stop, shuri continuously slid her fingers into your dripping cunt. “mm, you taste so fucking good.” the vibrations of her words sent you over. she sat up and pulled you in to kiss her and you tasted yourself on her lips. once she pulled away, you laid back on the bed, out of breath. trying to come down from your high.

“you okay now, love?” shuri stood up and took off her shirt and her cargos, leaving herself in nothing but her black sports bra and matching boxers. she tossed the clothes in her hamper and sat down at the edge of the bed. finally calmed down, you sat up and crawled over to where shuri was sitting. you wrapped your arms around her and smiled ear to ear. “i am now.”

“where you at? one more?” she cackled. “one more baby.”

shuri got up and walked into her closet and you sat on the bed patiently waiting for whatever she had to offer up next. shuri returned with a strap you knew well. the one that she could feel whatever you felt. the one that you came on every single time she used it. she lifted you up and laid you in your back, but your head hung off the bed a little.

thinking that was a mistake, you scooted back so your head wasn’t dangling off but shuri grabbed your face and pulled it back, hanging off the bed once again. “nah, stay here.” shuri demanded. shuri hovered over you and you finally understood what was going on. she slid her thumb over you lip and placed a kiss on your forehead. before you knew, shuri slammed her dick into your mouth, roughly. “fuck! let me use that pretty mouth of yours.”

shuri grabbed your face and thrusted into your mouth, slamming her dick down your throat fast and hard. she fucked your throat as spit flung everywhere, sliding down her thighs and your face. she fucked into you some more until tears ran down your cheeks, you were feeling as if you couldn’t quite breathe properly but you wanted to make her feel good so you dealt with it.

she pulled out of your mouth, panting and throwing around curse words here and there. she didn’t cum yet so that was now your mission. completely fucked out, shuri laid you on your stomach. you arched your back for easy access and shuri angled her dick at your entrance.

she bent down and kissed your back before slowly feeling you up with her strap. “fuck!” you moaned out. she started off slowly thrusting into you. your ass smashed against her front repeatedly, making your big ass jiggle. shuri smacked your ass hard and you winced in pain. it hurt but it was a good hurt. she placed her hands on your hips and fucked into you faster & deeper, your skin smacking against hers.

“oh my- fuckk baby! unnh” you fucked her back, throwing everything you had against her. “you feel so fucking good.” shuri grabbed a hand full of your hair and pulled, lifting your head up. “you fuck me so well, shuri. mm” you praise. this caused her to speed up. making your head drop even though she was holding you up by your hair. “sit the fuck up, can’t even sit up for me, so pathetic.” she breathed out. she gripped harder, wrapping your hair around her hands a few times.

you were a whimpering mess, she slammed into your g spot over and over. she always did so well pleasing you but something really snapped within her tonight.

“i want you to flood my shit, baby. can you do that for daddy?” she managed to say. her pants made you even wetter than you already were. “unnh!” was all you could manage to say. “answer me!” she shouted. she slapped your ass making you hiss. “yes, yes, yesss. shuri, fuck!” you finally said. feeling yourself get closer and closer to your release. “that’s my girl.”

“but first,” she picked up the pace, digging deep into you. “you think em could ever fuck you like i do? huh?” she asked. “mm mm unnh” was all you could say. “use your fucking words, y/n” she fucked into you harder and harder. “no. baby, no. UNH. i belong to you. i’m all yours baby. fuck!” you told her what she wanted to hear and you meant every single word. “this my pussy?” she moaned at your words. “this all yours, shuri!” you cried out. “i’m cumming shuri, fuck!” the sound of your squelching wet pussy and you & shuri’s moans filled the room as you let go of everything you had.

“unh. i’m right behind you baby! fuck.” you felt shuri’s release intertwine with yours. she let go of your hair and you both crashed down onto the bed laying beside each other. the both of you were breathing heavily, trying to come down from your high.

shuri rolled over onto her side and faced you. “does this mean i’m yours again?” shuri asked you, pushing away the hair that rested wildly on your forehead. “you always will be shuri.” she smiled and pulled you close as she hugged you, still breathing heavy. “i missed you, my love.”

“i’ve missed you too.” your lips connected and she kissed you passionately while rubbing your back.

[bitterpotionn]

Johnny Slaughter - No Escape Now

This is one of my favorites. Played around with some new elements in this fic. Let me know your thoughts.

As always any comments or constructive criticism is welcome!

Warnings: no smut but not SFW, mentions of kidnapping, violence, name-calling, drinking, slapping, dark content

She stared at the peeling wallpaper in the corner. The camper was humid, it made her sweat. It uncomfortably ran down her back, making her thin shirt stick to her.

There wasn't much to do other than just sit in the small booth table. Either staring out the window or staring at the peeling wallpaper. She didn't know what day it was. Didn't matter anyway. She had no use for time anymore.

She tried before to pry open the windows, but no use. Johnny bolted them shut. The fresh breeze outside mocked her. She can't remember the last time she was allowed outside. Only catching small breezes when Johnny swung the door open.

She was sitting quietly at the booth, staring blankly at the wall. Her head hurt, and she was hungry. She hadn't seen Johnny all day. She didn't want to see him. She got this sinking feeling every time he was around. When he was around, he was overbearing; suffocating. His hands were constantly on her, whether was was grabbing or squeezing, it didn't matter to him. As long as he was humiliating her in some way.

As she stared out the window she heard the familiar sound of Johnny's truck coming down the dirt driveway. Her heart dropped. She watched as Johnny sauntered to the door. He fumbled with the multiple locks he installed. Sometimes she wondered where he got the money to buy them, but she just figured they were stolen.

The door slowly creaked open. Johnny ducked in the doorway, being careful to lock the door behind him. In his hands, he held two grocery bags, a large grin plastered on his face.

She watched as he held up the bags. "Got ya some dinner," he set the bags on the table and began unpacking them. She noticed how he got some more beer.

His eyes flicked toward her still figure, he motioned for her to get up and come to him. Like a well-trained dog, she got up and shuffled to his side, watching intently as he unpacked. He wasn't great at grocery shopping, that was evident by the food he decided to purchase. Mainly frozen dinners and some canned goods. It's not like she could make a good meal out of any of this.

Once he was finished, he handed her one of the frozen meals. "Be a doll and warm that up for me, I'm awfully tired," he leaned down and pressed a hard kiss to her cheek as he sat down on the small couch the camper provided. Like usual, she did what he said.

--

At this point in the night, Johnny was three beers in. She sat next to him quietly, watching him as he watched the small black and white TV he stole from a garage sale, periodically sipping at the can. She wasn't allowed to watch the TV when he wasn't home. Sometimes she thought about it, maybe just to see if the news was still showing her missing poster. But, she never did. Somehow she knew that Johnny would find out and she didn't want the stress of his cruel punishments.

Sometimes she preferred Johnny when he was drunk. He was easier, almost lighter in the way he carried himself. His words weren’t as harsh, as cutting. His legs were spread wide as his arm was hooked around her waist, keeping her nice and close to him.

She sat there quietly. He preferred that. After all she was only there to please him. He drank beer after beer, and she didn’t say a word. His words became more slurred and his kisses more sloppy. It’s been a while since he drank like this.

“Mmm kiss me,” he grumbled out, his lips already trailing up and down her neck. She let her hands stroke through his hair. He let out a low groan at the feeling and tipped his head up to look at her. “Beautiful,”

Johnny was kinder when he was like this. Complimenting her and touching her gently. It was a nice refreshing from his usual bone-crushing grabs. Johnny grinned widely, a dumb look on his face as he collapsed into her chest.

She sat there frozen. Waiting for him to say something, waiting for him to move but he didn’t. His eyes were closed and soft snores fell from his glossy lips. Her eyes widened as she gently leaned him back on the couch; he was passed out.

Her heart began to pound in her chest. This was the first time he was completely out of it. Even when he was sleeping, she knew he was still somewhat aware. Years of killing people made him the lightest sleeper known-to-man. She couldn’t even get up to pee without him shooting back up and grabbing her wrist.

She chewed on her lip as she patted his scarred arm. “Johnny…” she called out softly. Nothing. “Johnny!” This time she was louder, shaking his arm. Still nothing.

She quickly shot up and looked around. She knew he had keys to the door somewhere. Her hands wandered into his jeans pocket, her fingers were met with the cool metal of the key. Her heart skipped a beat.

She carefully made her way to the door. She looked back at Johnny, still passed out. She quietly unlocked the multiple bolts he had on the door, letting out a small gasp when the door creaked open. She spared one last glance to Johnny's sleeping figure before stepping out.

The cool breeze hit her face, she smiled and took a deep breath in. She quietly shut the door again and began running. She ran faster than she ever thought possible. She was unfamiliar with the area. The few times Johnny let her outside she was either blindfolded or not allowed more than 5 feet from the camper.

She steadily made her way down the dirt driveway, heading toward the paved road. She heard the crickets chirping and the sound of frogs in the trees. It was music to her ears.

Once she finally got to the paved road she took a right and began running. She didn’t know how long she had until Johnny came to and realized what was going on. After what seemed like miles of running she saw an old brown and white station wagon make its way down the road. She let out a gasp of relief as she frantically waved her hands, trying to get the attention of the driver.

The vehicle slowed down to a halt as it pulled up beside her, the window was rolled down. She panted as she turned to greet the driver. It was an older woman, with shorter black hair with glasses. “Oh gosh, honey. Are you alright?” Her face was painted with concern. She let out another pant as she nodded, leaning against the vehicle. “I just need help, I need a ride into town or-or a police station, please help,”

The woman nodded and unlocked her car. “Please get in! You look awful, hun” her voice was laced with an almost suffocating amount of concern. She got in with a thank you and leaned her head against the seat of the car. “Thank you so much, ma’am. Sorry, I'm in a rush. I’m Y/N,” she turned and gave the older woman a smile. The older woman smiled at her, “That’s okay, hun. I’m Nancy,”

—

Her eyes were closed as they made their way down the road, still trying to regain her energy. Some old church song played in the radio as Nancy made her way down the road, gripping the steering wheel. “So, what happened to you, hun?” Her southern accent made her words seem a bit harsher than she intended.

She peeked open an eye and looked toward her. “Oh…” she bit down on her lip, unsure of how she was supposed to explain what exactly happened to her without sounding absolutely crazy. “My-my boyfriend, he uh. Wasn’t the nicest man and I was able to finally get away,” she explained nervously fidgeting with the end of her shirt. Nancy tsked and shook her head. “That is just awful, simply awful,”

She looked to gaze out the window. Her eyes suddenly widening. They were going right back the way she came. “Uh-hey ma’am. I think you’re goin’ the wrong way?” She turned toward her. Her blood ran cold when a smile adorned the woman’s face. She stayed silent.

“Ma’am?” Her heart-rate quickened as she tried the door handle of the slow-moving car. It was locked. “Okay, please let me out. I can find another way,”

Nancy grinned wide. “I don’t think so, hun,” her hand reached down next to her, and she pulled out a large mallet. Her eyes shot wide open as she pounded against the door, screaming. “Johnny ain’t gonna be too happy,” her blood ran cold at the mention of Johnny. What did she get herself into?

The last thing she remembered was the mallet swinging toward her, knocking her out cold.

—

Her head pounded. There was an annoying ringing in her ear as she willed her eyes to open. Like some sort of twisted nightmare, she was back in the camper. Only this time she was lying on the couch, her legs laid in Johnny's lap as he absentmindedly stroked her skin, his eyes fixed ahead on the TV. It was playing some church service.

“Whoever is captured will be thrust through; all who are caught will fall by the sword,” the preachers voice was laced with static.

She opened her eyes fully now, she could feel a deep throbbing at her forehead. She let out a small groan of pain as she tried to move her hand to her forehead. Only to be stopped by rope wrapped around her wrists. Her heart sunk.

Johnny grinned as he turned his head to face her. “Look who finally woke up,” he cooed, his hands rubbing up and down her legs. “Johnny I-“ his harsh voice Interrupted hers. “Real smart, slipping out when I was drunk. You’re smarter than you look, doll,” he sighed and leaned back. “Just not smart enough,”

She stared at him with horror. “Ya know I was just beginning to trust you,” he tsked and shook his head like a disappointed father. “You had been a real good girl for me, real good,” his squeezed her calf. “Was even thinkin’ bout’ takin’ you out on a date, I wanted to spoil my girl for bein’ so good,”

“But, that just won’t happen now will it,” he met her horrified look with a smirk. “Dumb slut thinks she can just run off, like you could do something without my help. It’s pathetic really,” his nails dragged down her leg. She didn’t dare try to resist or kick him. She knew better.

“After all I do for you, feed you, clothe you, fuck you,” Johnny scoffed and wrapped his hand around her ankle, his thumb caressing her bruised skin.

She stared at him silently, she felt like she had just been approached by a bear and she was waiting for it to strike. Johnny's grip tightened around her ankle. She hissed out in pain and instinctually tried to move away from him, only to be stopped with a slap to the face. Tears were now running freely down her cheeks.

He continued to grip her ankle, the pressure only growing, and his grin grew as well. “Guess I gotta make sure you just can’t leave again,” with one last smirk his hands snapped her ankle. The nauseating sound of her bone snapping made her scream out in pain as she sobbed. She heard Johnny's laugh ringing in her ears.

She wailed in pain and thrashed on his lap, she glanced down at her ankle. It was twisted in an unnatural direction, the skin around it clearly irritated and mangled. She felt like she was going to throw up. As she sobbed, Johnny grabbed her face and glared at her. "Remember this next time you think bout' runnin',"

--

Again, she stared at the peeling wallpaper. She swore it changed colors sometimes. Some days it was yellow, some days it was green. Some days she wanted to rip it down.

She hadn't been doing much. Johnny had finally allowed her TV time while he was away but the only shows that played were church services. After so many hours of listening to the preacher, she found herself believing. Believing in something beyond this camper, beyond Johnny, beyond this life. Surely, something was waiting for her. Something warm and kind.

It was dark now. The yellowish glow of the overhead lights just barely lit the room fully. She heard the familiar jingling of keys in the door. Johnny stepped in, wearing the same stupid grin that never seemed to leave his face. Shutting the door behind him he turned to face her. "There's my girl, come here,"

Without any protest, she slowly slid out from the booth. She tried to regain her balance on her one good foot. She hopped over to him, her other ankle mangled and still. She had to hold onto the wall to keep her upright. He chuckled as he watched her. Once she reached him he wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up for a deep kiss. He let out a low rumble as he nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck. "Missed ya today, doll," he pulled his head back and met her gaze with a smirk. "You miss me?" he asked, his hungry eyes scanning her stoic face.

She nodded. "Missed you, too," her voice was monotone, she was broken. Past the point of saving. He collapsed on the couch with a tired sigh as she sat still in his lap. He leaned her body against his chest, stroking her hair. Her eyes trailed down to her ankle, it was almost lifeless.

Johnny gently took her ankle in his hand, stroking the disfigured appendage with a certain amount of care. He brought it up to his lips and peppered kisses around the flesh, grinning wide as he did so. "No escape now, huh?"

[finemeal]

AO3 Etiquette

Alright, y’all, you already know what I’m about to say. But go ahead get some water, something to eat, take your meds, and whatever else you need to do as I go into this. Ready? Good.

I’ve seen far too many users on AO3 being rude and saying things that I’m not even sure they understand is rude.

If you’ve done these things, don’t sweat it too much. As long as you learn and do better, that’s what’s important. I don’t wanna make anyone feel bad, but I want to make y’all AWARE.

So let’s talk about some basic etiquette for interacting on AO3.

(Disclaimer: not every AO3 author is going to agree. Some are okay with some of these things, some aren’t. Let’s just play on the safe side yeah?)

Comment Etiquette

Listen, we’ve all left comments on fics we like. But here’s the thing, some of us don’t realize what comments are rude or not.

Comments that pass the vibe check:

Hearts

Something you liked about the story

Saying you enjoyed the story

Excited to see more from an author (not demanding an update, not asking for more, just genuine excitement for whatever the author has in store)

Anything that is genuinely nice

Theories on what you think will happen (not necessarily what you want or hope happens)

Comments that do not pass the vibe check:

DEMANDING an update

Treating fic authors like content pumps and not real people who do this in their free time

Critiquing the story

Saying how they should’ve written something different

Constructive criticism that the author did NOT ask for

Saying things that are purposefully antagonistic

Trolling

Anything that if someone said to you about something you worked hard on you would think was rude

Dogging on how a character was written

Comments that are WILDLY different from the tone of the story (i.e leaving a graphically violent comment on a story that does not feature graphic violence)

Any mention on how long it’s been since they’ve updated — you’re gonna make your wait longer

This one is more of a personal ick but any “want to see” comments, specifically on one-shots (I want you to enjoy what I’ve written, not talk about stories you hope I’ll write — unless author says that they specifically want those comments)

Honestly there’s so many comments that do not pass the vibe check I can’t even list them all. But I listed a BUNCH so, general rule of thumb is: If you’re not sure it’s rude, reach out to a friend and ask. Also, you can ask for people in the comment section to vibe check you if you’re unsure. And? If you know it’s rude and say it anyway, you’re an asshole.

ALSO: author’s will read your comments! They may not respond, but 9/10 author’s will read the comment so remember that you’re not posting into the void. And? People will call you out if you’re being rude. Don’t double down. Apologize, delete comment, move on.

Author’s talk, we will block you if you’re a raging asshole cuz we don’t need that kinda energy in our fics. And, sometimes we’ll turn off anon commenters cuz if you’re going to continue to be an asshole, and can’t even say it to our face, you din’t deserve to comment.

Bookmark Etiquette

This one is prolly gonna get a lot of people riled up and I simply don’t care. If you disagree, that’s fine, just know as an author and friends with other AO3 author’s we consider these sorts of things rude.

Bookmarks that pass the vibe check:

No comment

A nice comment with the bookmark

Private bookmarks (no matter what it’s tagged/commented with)

Nice/neutral tags

A note to self about where you left off

Bookmarks that do not pass the vibe check:

Anything rude for the comment/tag section of a bookmark — unsure what’s rude? See comment section above

Ranking the fic (see this way more often in bookmarks than anywhere else)

Unread bookmarks (not always a fail, it’s just weird? You can mark for later, why are you bookmarking my story without reading it?)

If your bookmark is private? It doesn’t matter how you tag/note it/whatever. But if it’s public? Author’s will sometimes go look at bookmarks because people will leave nice little comments that make us feel good. If you say something mean we can’t even delete it. But I can guarantee we’ll block you!

Yes, bookmarks are for the reader, but just because you didn’t intend for an author to see what you said doesn’t make it any less mean. If it’s public: shame on you. Make a bookmark that’s mean in private, then I won’t care.

Conclusion

Don’t be mean. If you don’t like a story, you don’t have to say anything. It takes more time to leave a nasty comment or bookmark something in a mean way than it does to just back out of the fic. I get it, you don’t like the fic. I don’t like every fic I read. You know what we do? We use the back button.

We’re all people, we all have lives and things going on. Just know 2024 is the year I’m no longer replying to nasty comments. I’m deleting them, blocking if I want to, and moving on.

If you have any questions, feel free to ask. Again, this post has a very aggressive tone because I’m sick of seeing mean comments on my friend’s fics. Will this stop those comments? No, but I hope it lessens them.

This truly is just about educating people. If you have any questions, anything you want to add. Feel free, pop off monarchs.

[inourtownofhawkins]

𝐼 𝒹𝑜.

Summary: You and Eddie have been best friends for as long as you both can remember, and while both of you secretly always wanted to be more, it was never meant to be... or was it?

Author’s note: I don't even really have an explanation for this; as soon as I heard I Do by (G)I-DLE I knew I wanted to write something with it.

CW: 18+, swearing, drinking, smoking, Eddie is a bit of a hoe, Reader does get drunk

Word count: 2.4k

Any hate will not be tolerated, constructive criticism is welcomed.

Hit me like a shot in the heart

Never shoulda played you so hard

Guess I played myself, that’s my fault

Summertime meant one thing for you: spending all of your time with your best friend, Eddie. Both of you had been friends since childhood; with your parents and Wayne being lifelong friends before you. Wayne would often babysit you when your parents were busy, so you naturally became friends with Eddie when he moved in with Wayne when you were teenagers.

Both of you would spend all day together; finding secluded spots in the woods to smoke and drink and talk about life or go swimming in Lovers Lake if the sun was out or playing video games, going to the arcade, or watching movies if it was raining. You were practically inseparable from each other.

You’d always thought Eddie was cute and even had the biggest and embarrassing crush on him for a while after the pair of you met, your diary being filled with doodles of Mrs. Eddie Munson in hearts for months on end. You never dared tell him about your crush, and by the time you felt like something might happen; Eddie had seemingly gotten a girlfriend. Well, you say girlfriend, but you were sure they were just hookups, nothing more and nothing less.

It hurt at first knowing Eddie was sleeping around and it wasn’t with you, but you got over it, you had to. There was no way in hell Eddie would ever look at you in a romantic way, anyway, both of you practically grew up together – it would be weird.

You walked through the trailer park, your backpack filled with everything you needed for the day and a towel draped over your shoulder. Summer days with Eddie were always unpredictable so it was best to always bring everything for every possibility, no matter how weird it ended up being.

Skipping up to Eddie’s trailer, you didn’t even have time to knock before the door was opened and Sloane stepped out, laughing at something Eddie had said and smelling like cigarettes and sex. You could see her neck and cleavage covered in fresh love bites, along with some older ones that had faded slightly.

You knew she’d spent the night with him; her cropped shirt and short shorts and tiny purse were a dead giveaway they’d gone out then gone back to Eddie’s. She stopped laughing as soon as she saw you, giving you an awkward and forced smile as she walked past and got to her car.

You’d seen Sloane hang around Eddie a few times; it was clear they got on like a house on fire. Eddie had never invited her when it was just you and him hanging out, he always made that clear with anyone he was “seeing” but you still saw them around while you were doing other things.

With how many times you saw him and her together and the way they were interacting, it was almost obvious that they were together, but you knew Eddie would’ve told you if they were, right?

Once Sloane had left, Eddie stepped aside to let you inside. “Hey, sweetheart, I didn’t realise you were getting here so early, I would’ve told her to leave beforehand.”

You shook your head, brushing him off as you dumped your things on the counter. “You’re alright, I would’ve called ahead if I knew you had a guest over.” You tried your best to not let it show that it clearly was bothering you, but you were always terrible at hiding things from Eddie, he knew how to read you far too well.

“If it bothers you, you know you can tell me, right? I’m not gonna get mad if it does.”

Oh, if you only knew.

You sighed. “Seriously, Eds, it doesn’t bother me… it’s just you hang out with her basically anytime you don’t hang out with me, you’re gonna make me think it’s something more than just fucking.”

“What if it was?”

I don’t even know how to think

‘Cause now she got your heart so I feel

Stupid, foolish

‘Fraid I’m losing everything

I thought I couldn’t

My whole world is falling apart

You tried to pretend like his words weren’t replaying your head all day, making your heart break over and over again. Eddie had asked you constantly if you were okay, and you constantly assured him that you were fine. He knew something was off with you, probably even knew why things were off with you but he never asked.

Even when both of you were doing your favourite things together, your mood still didn’t improve. Constantly in your head, you were thinking of him and Sloane doing those things too behind your back, even though Eddie had assured you in the past that anything he did with you was exclusive to you and him, he never did it with anyone else.

So how come you couldn’t shake the feeling that he hasn’t taken at least one of his hookups to Lovers Lake to screw?

You didn’t care. You didn’t care. You didn’t fucking care.

Eddie could do whatever he wanted, it’s not like he’d ever even notice that you were hopelessly in love with him and the reason you never went on dates with anyone else was because of your feelings for Eddie.

You knew your feelings for him were holding you back. Heck, Eddie would even say it himself. He’d say that being in love with someone you couldn’t be with was stopping you from living your life, hooking up with people, going to parties, potentially meeting someone new.

But you didn’t want any of that, you just wanted Eddie.

Sure, there’d been potentially other guys, but they never came remotely close to replacing Eddie, no matter how hard they’d tried.

The images of Eddie and Sloane or literally other girl you’d ever seen him with clouded every single thought you had, and it was starting to give you a headache, no matter how much water you drank or food you ate.

Once again, Eddie had asked if you were okay, and you brushed him off. “I just have a headache; I might head off and get some sleep.”

Eddie frowned, he almost looked disappointed at you going home early but he didn’t say it. Instead, he helped you to your feet and began packing up both of your things. “I can drive you home.”

“No, that’s okay. I wanna walk.” You shook your head, grabbing your backpack from him and forcing your feet into your converse. You barely even looked at him before you walked away from him, because you knew if you did, you’d start to cry. All you wanted was to be alone and only have a bottle of alcohol for company while you sobbed and listened to sad love songs, not exactly an unusual way for you to spend your nights.

Don’t you go falling in love

Trust me she’s not the one

She won’t ever

Love you like I do

Hold you like I do, know you like I do

Once you got home, you locked your bedroom door and stared at your phone’s lock screen, expecting Eddie to call but he never did. He texted to make sure you were okay, got home safe and even apologised for whatever he’d said. But you knew he didn’t know exactly what he did wrong, not that you’d tell him.

Tossing your phone onto your bed, you sat down towards the end of it and just stared at the floor. You knew you couldn’t keep up the façade of hiding your feelings towards Eddie anymore, you had to tell him but if he was really dating Sloane like you assumed and he somewhat implied, your feelings wouldn’t even matter to him anyway.

Your eyes darted up to the half full bottle of vodka on your desk, a shot glass close by. You knew it would be irresponsible of you to drink, especially with your headache and the day you’d had but surely it couldn’t hurt to have one shot, right?

Grabbing the bottle, you poured yourself a shot and downed it, cringing a little as it went down your throat. You took a sip of water to help get rid of the taste before you looked at your phone again, still no phone call or new texts from Eddie. You debated on calling him or texting him back but you were still somewhat upset with him and so you concluded the only way you’d say anything to him would be if you had more alcohol. You grabbed the bottle again and instead of pouring another shot, you just unscrewed the lid and took a swig and forced yourself to swallow it, no matter how disgusting it felt and how much it burned your throat. You didn’t even allow yourself to have some water to wash it down, you just didn’t want to be sober anymore.

You repeated taking large swigs several more times before the world began to spin around you, even though you knew you were sitting still. It felt like nothing in your life mattered anymore, and it felt amazing. You got giggly and took another drink, laughing at yourself for spilling some of it on your shirt before you set it down on your bedside table.

Picking up your phone again, you could barely unlock it and tap Eddie’s name to call him properly, it took you far too many attempts. But once you called, he picked up on the third ring. “Sweetheart? Are you okay?”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you were slurring over your words. “I’ve never been better… listen, I’m still mad at you.”

From the other side of the phone, you could hear Eddie walking about and the opening and closing of doors, the loud jingle of his keys. “I can barely understand you, darling. Where are you? I’ll come get you.”

“You’re not listening to me! I said I’m still mad at you!”

“I’m listening, sweetheart,” his soothing voice only made your heart melt even more than it already does anytime you hear it. “Tell me where you are.”

“I’m at home but Eddie…” you felt hot tears well up in your eyes and fall down your cheeks. “I love you; I always have. And I’m mad at you because you don’t even notice me, you’re with Sloane now and that’s fine but I can’t just keep going on with my life without saying anything. It’s killing me to know that you don’t even see how much I love you and that I want to be with you, but I know you don’t feel the same way.”

You were completely unaware while you ranted, but Eddie was driving as fast as he legally could over to yours as soon as you told him where you were. And once you began professing your love, he only wanted to be there more. He wanted to tell you everything on his mind, but he knew you needed to get this off your chest first and he would far prefer to tell you in person. Even if you were horrendously drunk and most likely wouldn’t remember much of what was said.

Your ranting of professing your love for Eddie had turned into nonsensical babbling, and mostly got muffled by your tears and lying on your bed. Eddie was still listening although had arrived outside your house, and knowing you liked to keep your window open at night during the summer, he muted himself before sliding his phone into his back pocket and climbed up the drainpipe to your bedroom window.

He grabbed his phone again and unmuted himself. “Sweetheart, can you let me in? I’m outside your window.”

You stopped mid-sentence when you looked out your window to see Eddie, opening your window wider to let him in before shakily moving aside to get out of the way. He gracefully climbed into your bedroom and sat on your bed beside you, kicking off his sneakers.

“Whatever made you think I never loved you back, hm?” he asked, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“All those girls you hooked up with, and then how happy you seemed to be with Sloane. I couldn’t not think you didn’t love me or even knew that I loved you,” you sniffled, looking down at your hands.

Eddie shook his head, gently placing a couple fingers underneath your chin to make him look up at you. Both of you looked into each other’s eyes without saying a word before he closed the gap, gently kissing you. It was quick, but sweet and said everything he needed to. “Even if you’re massively drunk, I hope you remember me saying this; I love you too. And I’m sorry I’ve been too scared to say it this whole time and hurting you in the process; you’re the only person I want to be around and honestly, the only person I want to go on dates with and sleep with.”

Even though you were drunk out of your mind, you repeated his words over and over in your mind as you moved to kiss him again. You wanted to remember everything, or at least as much as you were able to. Forever the gentleman, Eddie returned your kisses but only left it at kissing; he’d stroke your cheek and cuddle you but never did anything else, despite your drunken protests.

Both of you ended up lying on your bed, your head on his chest and his hands playing with your hair. You’d gotten to talking about anything and everything, only interrupted by the occasional kiss and exchanging of “I love you”s but by the time the sun began to rise above the horizon, you both knew the serious question had to be asked.

Your drunkenness had almost completely passed as you looked at him, propping yourself up on your elbows. “So, what does this make us now? Are we friends, are we boyfriend and girlfriend now, what are we?”

Eddie gently held your face in his hands, his thumb stroking your cheek. “We can be whatever you want us to be. Although, I don’t think I want to go back to being friends.”

“So let’s not.”

Don’t you go fallin’ in love

‘Cause I’ma break that shit up

I won’t let her

Love you like I do

Touch you like I do, nothing like I do