#i have to break up w him (in my brain) but Nothing has actually changed so my feelings arent even valid

[macfrog]

san angelo | one shot

what happens when joel miller meets his star-crossed lover?

big love to @mrsmando and @5oh5 for cheering me on with this one, and @bageldaddy for being my eyes, my ears, and - only sometimes - my brain.

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader summary: it's the summer of two thousand eight. after two weeks following his little brother cross-country on the back of a harley, joel follows him through the doors of a dive bar - where fate delivers him to you. warnings: story is inserted into canon, so cordyceps outbreak happens, sarah dies (off-page), joel dissociates, doomed love, lots of mention of fate, alcohol consumption, reader is a smoker, cursing, drunken one-night stand, oral sex, unprotected piv, joel's cock is massive, a lot of angst, a lot of fluff, a lil smut to tie it all together. enjoy! word count: 9.8k

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Palm lines.

It’s the first thing he thinks as soon as she stops moving in his arms. The second her little whimpers cease, the moment her chest stops heaving and her eyes glaze over. Suddenly, Joel’s little girl weighs more than he can bear.

Palm lines. And he has no fucking idea why.

He closes his eyes and there you are. The whir of the ceiling fan, the tinkling of bracelets loose on your wrist. You have sorta earth hands, you told him. Or, well – they could be water, if you look at ‘em this way. I don’t really know. I’m still learning.

You told him that air hands were long, spindly. And Sarah was always a lanky kid – tallest on the soccer team, head and shoulders above the other girls by the third grade. Her hands, he thinks, must be air. They must be.

Her fingers are still twisted around his right now. Lifeless, slippery with the blood still wet and quickly cooling.

Joel cradles her, squeezing so hard that he wonders whether he might be able to fuse their bodies together. Lock them in some white-knuckle grip so that he never has to let go of her – never has to leave this hill covered in dirt and blood.

His palms are ruined; a maroon river carving its way down his heart line, dirt deep in the groove of his life line. Why does he even fucking remember what they’re called?

Why the fuck are you what he’s thinking about, right now?

“Tommy,” he says, opening his eyes again. “We gotta…we gotta get to…”

She’s limp, draped over his thighs as though she’s nothing more than a stretch of crimson curtain. He looks down at her and begs her to come back, begs her to open her eyes and look up at him again.

But the night is passing and she’s still not breathing. Dawn is breaking and Joel’s daughter is dead.

He sucks in a shattered breath. “…to San Angelo, Tommy.”

The younger Miller stuffs his gun into the back of his jeans and paces over, soles coated thick in shit and grass. “I hear you, Joel.”

“You ain’t listenin’ to me, I –”

“I’m listenin’ fine, Joel.” Tommy hooks his hands under his niece’s arms. “Now, help me lift her. We can’t…” his voice strains, fighting the death grip his brother has on the girl, “…we can’t leave her here.”

Joel’s frozen to the spot; sinking further and further into the earth. Staring at his open hands, the stains like rust on his palms. He says to San Angelo again, and Tommy snaps.

“Jesus, Joel, enough! I’ve heard enough goddamn it! I see your hands, now – we gotta fuckin’ bury Sarah.”

Your fate line, your nail tickled, and Joel held his hand steady, It can change, if something big is coming.

Somethin’ big? he asked. A little younger, a lot more naïve. Still a healthy dose of belief in the world, an echo of the god-fearing faith that raised him.

His hand felt so light, cradled in two of yours. He half hoped he’d never have to let go – just lie there with you forever. Your legs tangled with his, the sheets disturbed; the room injected with amber from the streetlights outside.

You nodded. A big shift, or something.

And he scoffed. He actually scoffed, right there and then. Incredulous. The hell kinda big shift is comin’ our way? he asked, laughing.

You just smiled back, shrugging. You were so fucking casual, that whole night. It would’ve unnerved him, if he hadn’t been so swept off by the sparkle in your eye, the glowing cherry of your cigarette.

Guess we just gotta wait ‘n see.

It’s August thirtieth, two thousand eight.

Almost five thousand miles on the back of a Harley, and Joel just wants to go home.

He arches his aching back, palms flat against the crests of his hips, and blinks in the light from the food mart in front of him. Twenty-six, he thinks to himself, only twenty-fuckin’-six.

It’s ninety degrees out. An uncomfortable heat, for a man who feels ten years older than he really is. For a man who hasn’t had a decent shower in almost two weeks. For a man who’s spent the last six hours tailing the brake lights of his little brother’s bike.

The sweat gathers sticky between his shoulder blades, prickles along the nape of his neck. There’s dust spattered down his bare arms and buried in the grooves of his knuckles.

He’s tired. He’s tired, he’s dirty, and goddamn, he wishes he was back home.

He holds a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun, the yellow sky melting to a purple haze. Squinting, he follows the soar of two swallows overhead, looping through the sky, until he’s rubbing the image from his eyes with the back of his wrist.

He’s gotta remember to call Sarah before she goes to bed.

The door opens with the tinkle of a brass bell older and rustier than Joel feels. A swaggering figure splits the glow from the store in two – a figure with a pack of Marlboros in one hand and an already half-empty bottle of water in the other.

Tommy holds them both out to Joel, who swipes the water with a scowl.

“Ain’t killed you yet, brother,” Tommy scoffs, stuffing the cigarettes into his back pocket. He swings a frayed-denim leg over the seat of his Harley.

Joel drains the bottle, panting as he crushes the plastic in one fist. “Damn near tryin’,” he mutters, tossing it in the trash. He runs his tongue across his bottom lip.

“Where are we?” Tommy asks. He glances over his shoulder, staring from the cracked roads to the telephone wires overhead. A Syclone pulls into the lot; a dehydrated squeal as it rolls to a halt.

“San Angelo,” Joel says. “Only a few more hours to go.” He settles on his own bike, pulling his leather jacket over his shoulders. “We passed a Super 8 coming into town, if you feel like restin’ up. Or – we leave now, be home around midnight.”

Tommy chuckles. “What’s the rush? We ain’t gotta be anywhere anytime soon.”

And Joel agrees – for the most part.

His mom is watching Sarah while they’re gone, and he reckons she’s hardly missing him. Too smart for her own good, Joel’s realizing: plotting and scheming her way into staying up past her bedtime, drinking Pepsi at dinner, watching Curtis and Viper – and swearing that her dad lets her do it all, too.

But, still. He misses his kid.

It’s the most they’ve ever been apart – time or distance. The longest he hasn’t had her climbing up his back or hanging off his arm. The least he’s been called Dad since he was eighteen years old.

He just…misses his kid.

He sighs, drumming his fingers on the body of the bike. “Tommy, I gotta get back home to Sarah.”

“Look,” Tommy says, and Joel knows that the argument is lost already, “By the time we got back, she’d be asleep anyways. Let’s leave in the morning – first thing, I swear – and we’ll be home in time for breakfast. Deal?”

They stare at one another, a stand-off in the parking lot. Both waiting for the other to break. The swallows gather on the roof of the store, basking in the weak wash of flickering fluorescents.

“Come on, brother,” Tommy pleads, “It’s one more night.” He lifts his helmet, punching it over his mop of shaggy hair, and kicks the bike to life.

Joel growls to himself, watching it drift over to the side of the road.

He considers heading to the Super 8 alone, grabbing a room only to shower and get some food, then hitting the road and leaving his little brother in the dust. Waiting for him to stumble through the door tomorrow morning – tired, groggy, probably hungover – while Joel, fresh as a daisy, drizzles syrup over Sarah’s pancakes and pours her orange juice.

He’s a pragmatic man. He’s a grown-up. Scares away the ghosts and ghouls and monsters of his daughter’s nightmares. Shushes her back to sleep in the crook of his arm, tiptoes as lightly as he can out of her room so as not to wake her.

Things like God, like the universe, things like horoscopes and laws of attraction…for the most part, Joel can do without them. Has done his whole life.

But then – the glow of indigo overhead, and the mysterious shadows lurking behind the buildings. The birdsong tittering in his ears, the twinkle of the sun in Tommy’s helmet – something distant in the dusty sphere.

Something, someone, winking at him from far away.

Something a little heavier than the breeze nudges at his spine, and Joel’s arms lift – fitting his own helmet over his head. He swings the heel of his boot into his kickstand and revs the bike, Harley roaring as it joins Tommy’s out on the boulevard.

Murphy’s is a small, green bar on the corner of an intersection. All peeled paint lettering and buzzing fluorescents – the y burnt out and pulsing.

Joel doesn’t think Tommy picked it for any reason other than the huge Lone Star mural on the side of the goddamn building, the way he tosses his thumb to it as they park up. A squint smirk on his face, muttering something like ‘s good to be home, big brother, as they hook helmets over handlebars.

Tommy leads Joel inside, their boots tacky on the wooden floor. Walls paneled by aged frames and sun-bleached photographs; air hanging thick with a smell like vinegar. The babble of slurred conversation is pierced by the sharp crack of pool balls breaking.

Metal-plate belt buckles snaked through strained jeans; low eyes which shift to size-up the two strangers. They all turn back to their fingerprinted glasses when Joel and Tommy settle into an empty booth.

It feels hotter in here than it is outside, stuffier. A thick humidity which clings to Joel’s bones, humming like the string lights draped from beams above his head.

Tommy reclines between the creaking leather cushion and the wall. He pokes at a yellowing poster of some Western, hums to himself, and then looks across the table.

Joel’s eyes loop once around the room before they meet his brother’s. “What?” he asks.

“First round is yours, old man.”

“Oh, is it, now?” He cocks an eyebrow. “Thought this was your idea?”

A weedy grin stretches across Tommy’s lips. He needs to fucking shave, Joel thinks. Whiskers poking from around his small mouth like pine needles. “’s my birthday trip,” he reasons.

And can Joel argue with that? Does he have the fucking energy? Will it get him out of here and back to Austin any quicker?

“Goddamn it,” he grumbles. He pushes himself to his feet, heels of his palms against the tacky wood.

He wanders over to the bar, tugging on the front of his tee to unstick it from his damp chest. Slots in beside an ivory cowboy hat with a pair of jeaned legs. The man fixes his bolo tie and watches Joel’s hand as he flags the bartender down.

And then he feels it.

You.

Then he feels you.

First, the weight of you – crashing some into his back. He shunts forward from the suddenness of it, knocking his ribs against the bar, and lifts a hand to brace himself on the ledge.

And then – heat, like an iron. Like every hair and freckle on your skin is branded into his the second you come into contact with him. A feeling like the roll of a wave against his spine, a hand hooked around his forearm when he begins to turn.

“Shit,” you hiss, steadying yourself on the curve of his shoulder. You glance down at your feet, clicking between your black boots. “I’m sorry, that was…that was my bad.”

“’s alright,” Joel says instantly. He holds his arm still until you let go and he sidesteps – though only a little. He watches, dumbstruck, as you rest your elbows on the bar and lean forward. His eyes linger on your back, trailing the crisscross straps wrapped tight over your spine.

You squint up at the menu pinned above shelves of crystal bottles. Your eyes move back and forth across the chalkboard, slowly descending until they’re meeting his in the speckled mirror opposite – a sweet smile growing on your lips.

It runs like whiskey through Joel’s veins: warm and dangerous.

And the way his head spins, the way the world blurs for a moment into one swipe of color around you; the way your cooing laugh echoes between his ears long after he’s heard it –

Joel’s already intoxicated.

He’s still staring when you pull back and motion to the bar. “You can go first, by the way,” you say, waving a hand. “I wasn’t cuttin’ in line. Just trying to read the drinks.”

“I’ll wait,” he replies, remembering how to be polite, how to be charming. Old cogs long out of use jerking to life inside him again. “Can’t read any of ‘em, either, anyways.”

It draws from you that same little laugh, a puff of air from your nostrils. You nod, biting your bottom lip.

He’s quickly forgetting why he’s stood in this room, why he’s in this city. He’d probably forget his own fucking name if you asked him right now what it was.

“’nother drink, darlin’?” a low voice interrupts, and you’re turning away.

Joel’s eyes follow you – a moth chasing something golden and radiant – as you face the wiggle of a snow-white mustache poking from beneath the brim of that ivory cowboy hat.

You shake your head, lifting two fingers with a bill slipped between them. “I’m good, thanks, George. Maybe next round.” You wave to the kid behind the bar – some name that Joel’s too fucking mindless to hear. Too distracted by the glint in your eye, the sparkle of your crescent moon earrings in the light.

If only he knew this feeling. If only he could put a name to it. As familiar as the sun and yet, brand new like dawn. His stomach swirls in a fleet of butterflies – as though he’s fifteen again, bumping elbows with his high school crush.

You nudge him, thumb pointing in the direction of the bartender.

Joel shakes his head. “Ladies first,” he says, heart skipping when you hold his stare.

“Nuh-uh,” you shake your head, “Told you I ain’t jumping in.”

He asks the guy for two beers, barely taking his eyes off you. “Alright,” he leans in, lowering his voice, “Then let me buy you a drink. Make up for gettin’ in your way just then.”

You prop your chin on your knuckles, grinning as you push your twenty around the wooden bar top, dodging pooled rings of alcohol like it’s an arcade game. “I don’t do that,” you say, eyes tracing the slick trail left by the bill.

“Do what?”

“Accept drinks from strange men in bars.”

His tongue presses against the back of his teeth, the taste of humor honey-sweet. “Yeah? ‘n how long have you known…” he nods to the – what is he, sixty? Sixty-five? – year-old on your right, “…George?”

Your gaze lifts, eyes wide. Apparently as impressed by Joel’s confidence as he is himself. “We’re actually in a very serious relationship. Marriage proposal imminent.”

“Damn,” he mutters as the bartender reappears with two Coors, “And here I thought I had half a chance.”

You hum to yourself, studying him. Looking from his jaw across the span of his shoulders, his wide-knuckled hands and then back to his lips. Curious and wary, judging the strange animal stood before you.

And he knows he’s weathered from the weeks on the road, and all the years before that. Dirt under his nails and the light sheen of sun on his forehead. The flecks of gray through his thick, brown beard.

You take a deep breath, eyes twinkling, and tell him, “I’m here with my friend.”

“Ain’t that lucky?” Joel glances at Tommy. “I’m here with my brother.”

You look across to the dirty blond, sat tilting a glass candle in his hand. “He single?”

Joel nods. “Is she?”

You nod.

“Alright. You wanna come sit with us?”

Your smirk answers his question. You take the beers, rings clinking off the glass. “Rum,” you call over your shoulder, wandering off, “I drink rum.”

Joel’s gaze lowers to the sway of your hips. “Rum it is,” he says, turning back to the bar.

“So…a cross-country bike trip, and you wound up in San Angelo?”

You’re on your fourth drink, the first one Joel hasn’t paid for – and he only allowed it because it’s a Diet Coke (and maybe you got to the bar first, held his wrists with one hand so he couldn’t stop you from slapping your own money down).

“Yep,” Joel replies, pinching the lime from his drink and dropping it onto a napkin. “Just passin’ through. Shower, sleep, then head on home.”

“Where’s that, then? Home?”

“Austin.”

“Austin,” you pout, “Nice.”

Joel smirks, licking citrus from his fingertips. “Is it?”

“I’ve never been to Austin,” Brooke chirps, fiddling with the umbrella in her piña colada. She twirls the paper canopy and glances up to Tommy.

He snaps out of his slack-jawed gaze when he realizes what she’s implying. “Oh – yeah, well…” his head wobbles as he stutters, “…you two ever come down that way, we’d be happy to, uh…show ya ‘round, huh, Joel?”

Joel doesn’t reply, staring back at his brother with the same amused expression you are.

You’ve been an inch apart all evening – doused in the dive bar darkness, the shrouded conversations and muffled TV static. The tip of your nose and curve of your shoulders lit only by the luminous signs dotting the walls.

Tommy and Brooke are already deep in conversation again about the best car Tommy ever owned. Joel watches as your eyes flit between the pair, entertained by the way they trip over each other’s sentences. Your cheeks lift when Brooke lays a hand over Tommy’s, and he squeezes her fingers back.

Where did you come from? Joel’s thinking. He takes a swig of his whiskey, feeling your eyes on him. As he lowers his glass, you lift yours. When he turns in his seat towards you, you’re already facing him, back against the wainscotting. He smiles, and so do you.

Every movement feels choreographed, some merry dance only you two know. You’re in your own little world.

Where did you come from, again, and where have you been my entire fucking life?

“So, what about you?” Joel asks instead, swallowing – all warm-bellied and brave. “You grow up here?”

You shake your head, taking another sip. “Nope. Just liked it enough to hang up my coat for a few months. I grew up in Phoenix.”

“You travel a lot?”

“I’ve been around. This is the longest I’ve stayed in one place since I was a kid.”

He thinks of home: of Austin and its silver-snake river, burnt-orange jerseys and the pleated bunting lining Sixth Street. He thinks of late nights on lawn chairs, nursing a beer and shooting the shit with his brother. Keeping their voices lower than the buzz of the cicadas, looking more at the dusky sky than at each other.

“You don’t ever get tired of it?” Joel asks. “Of moving around so much?”

You scoff, breath clouding the inside of your glass. “Three weeks on a motorcycle starting to get to you, huh?”

He breathes a laugh, loose again. The cicadas fade from his ears.

Your head tilts in a shrug. “I don’t know. I guess the universe keeps on surprising me.”

Joel doesn’t do this. At least, he hasn’t done this since he was a teenager – crate of beer under his arm and a chest full of courage. He’s long forgotten the feeling of heat blooming in his cheeks, the twitch of his heart anytime you look at him.

But fuck, if there isn’t something about you. Something in the way you move, the way you look at him. Something in the way you play with your straw, knocking ice cubes around and chewing on the plastic once you’ve drained the glass.

Something – though it’s a little too early and Joel’s a little too tipsy to tell just what. He tries to remember that he’s pragmatic. A grown-up. He chases away the monsters in his daughter’s –

“Oh, shit,” Joel says suddenly, scrambling to pull his cell from his pocket. It’s nine thirty. He was supposed to – “I forgot…”

A miserable tone from his Motorola cuts him short. The screen flashes an empty battery before fading to black. He jams a thumb into the keypad a couple more times, cursing at the winking symbol.

“Someone you gotta call?” you ask.

He meets your eye and winces. “Yeah, I’m…I said I’d call an hour ago.”

“You wanna use mine?” You twist around, fishing in your purse for your own. “We can go outside.”

“No, no, it’s…it’s alright, I’m sure she won’t mind, she –”

You shake your head. “Shut up. Come on, let’s go. I could use some fresh air, anyways. Be back in a minute,” you tell Brooke – who nods and turns straight back to Tommy.

Joel extends his hand to help you out of the booth, then follows you to the door. The cool air tugs every nerve in his body to attention, pin-sharp when he steps out of that lazy heat. Under the emerald glow of the Murphy’s sign, he settles his glass on a window ledge. “Next round’s on me, alright?”

You roll your eyes, pushing the phone against his chest. “Just call, Joel.”

One last apologetic glance, and then he’s dialing. He makes to wander along the curb, the tone already pulsing in his ear, when he notices –

“You ain’t brought a jacket?”

You’re sitting on the ledge, clutching your elbows. Swatting midges from the light you’re bathed in, charms on your bracelets jingling. “Hm?”

He tuts. “A jacket. Here.” He shrugs his own off, sitting it around your frame. It’s warm from the bar and from Joel’s body heat, and you sink into it – letting the dark leather drown you as you rummage through your purse again.

“Nice,” Joel’s eyes narrow, “Fresh air.”

You hum into your hands, flicking your lighter. The cigarette trembles when you murmur, “We all got our skeletons, I guess.”

He turns on his heel when a familiar voice picks up.

“Hey, hey, M–Yeah, sorry it’s late…Yeah, we got held up. My phone died, so I’m using…Is she still–? Can I–? Oh, Sarah. Hi, baby.”

His little girl begins chattering down the line immediately, telling Joel everything she’s been up to since they last spoke this morning.

“…and then, Emily thought I was one of the Armadillos – I don’t even know how, ‘cause they play in red, remember Dad? – but she did, and she slide tackled me so bad that Coach Thomson had to sub in Akari for me so I could ice my ankle. Grandma was kinda mad about it, but she took me to Burger King after to cheer me up, and…”

Joel wanders back and forth, smiling to himself and scuffing the heel of his boot along the concrete – barely able to squeeze more than two words between her chirping. It’s all, Yeah, baby? and Wow, sweetheart; all uhuhs and mhms until she finally quietens, excitement plateauing again.

“Alright, well. You know what time it is, right?”

“Yeah,” Sarah groans. She knows it all too well.

Bedtime.

“…But you didn’t call when you said you would, Daddy, and it’s Saturday, it’s –”

“I know, baby, I know. I’m sorry. Just…somethin’ came up. But I’ll see you tomorrow, right? We’ll be back before you know it.”

“Where’s Uncle Tommy? Can I talk to him?”

Joel turns to face the bar. “He, uh…I’m not with him right now, sweetheart. I’ll tell him you asked after him, though.”

Sarah concedes, and then begins asking questions Joel knows she’s only asking to stay on the line a little longer – to stay awake a little later. But still, he answers each one – humoring her and, at the same time, letting himself listen to her voice just a little more before he has to let her go.

He thinks of scooping her up in the morning; thinks of being slumped on the couch after dinner with her head on his stomach – fast asleep with whatever movie she chose droning on in the background.

Despite the thousands of miles and close to two weeks between them – she makes him feel closer to home. She always does.

When Sarah asks where he is, he glances your way. Clocks your flat expression, the half-burnt cigarette hanging from your fingers.

You flick ash to the ground. Eyes unreadable beneath low brows, a tiny crease between them that Joel’s only just seeing for the first time.

“Uh…” he clears his throat, “…just a little – a little north of you, baby. Home first thing, I promise.”

He tells her he loves her and she says it back, and he tells her to sleep well and she says that back, too. And then he’s hanging up – Alright, see you soon, bye, Sarah, bye-bye, byebyebye – and pressing his thumb into the red button.

He wanders back over to you – ears flat like a guilty dog, though he isn’t quite sure why. He mumbles a quiet thanks as he passes the phone back, then stuffs his hands in his pockets.

You lean back, ankles crossed, studying him. Swirling what’s left of the cigarette in your fingers – the smoke lifting like a winding snake to the dark sky. “So,” you pout, “What are you doing flirting with me, if you got a wife and kid back home?”

His jaw ticks, a hand coming up to scratch his beard. “I don’t have a wife,” he says.

You stare blankly, filter back against your lips. “Okay, then – a girlfriend. Does she know you’re out tonight with us?”

He shakes his head. “No wife, no girlfriend. I don’t have an anything.”

“But you have a kid.”

Joel nods once, tongue in his cheek. “Uhuh.”

And then the penny seems to drop. A small oh; your jaw slack and eyes wide. The cigarette smolders between your fingers. “Fuck,” you whisper, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“No, hey,” Joel steps closer, “You didn’t know. It’s alright.”

He straightens the jacket on your shoulders. When you finally look at each other again, you snort.

“Sorry,” you repeat, shaking your head. “Is she okay? Your daughter – is she…?”

“Sarah,” Joel says. “She’s…she’s fine. Thanks.”

You look down, stubbing your cigarette against the brick. Voice quiet, you ask, “Her mom’s not around anymore?”

Relief settles in his chest: you’re softening to him again.

Joel slots onto the ledge at your side. Shoulder to shoulder. He reaches behind and lifts his drink. “Not since she was a year old.”

Your mouth pulls in a wince. “Jesus. That’s rough.”

He doesn’t reply. He doesn’t have to – you’re not asking him to explain – and he doesn’t want to, either.

You’re not stupid – you’ve seen enough of the world to hear what he’s really saying. The darkest, dustiest corners of it – all the places no one ever wants to look.

You don’t seem disturbed, barely even moved by the reality that…well, shit happens. People leave, families break; a two-car driveway is suddenly taken up by just a pick-up truck and a little pink bike with tassels.

He figures you get it. You don’t need to know how can that be? – you just…know that it can.

“So, uh…” you look up at him again, “…my apartment is, like, five minutes away if you wanna…you know. You can charge your phone, can shower – if it’s bugging you that much.”

Joel’s eyebrows lift. “Oh, really?”

You simper, eyes thin. “Really.”

“Charge my phone ‘n shower?” He stands, palm flat against the wall above your head, and leans in. His face is inches from yours.

You look up, mirroring his expression. “Yes,” your voice curls in a half-truth, “What’s the big deal?”

“What a goddamn line,” Joel says, smirking. “How long you been sittin’ on that one for?”

His blood thrums faster, harder, louder in his veins when you stand up, hands on your hips.

“It’s not a line, I’m serious –”

“I didn’t take you as the type, baby, I really didn’t – but if that’s how you wanna play this, then –”

He feels you before he sees you moving, like he’s stood at that bar all over again. Your hands on his jaw, your chest pressed to his. Your lips – soft as satin, with a tinge of sweet rum and smoke – against his.

Joel barely misses a beat. He closes his eyes and lifts a hand to the back of your head, kissing you back. It’s dizzying, the taste and feel of you so close; the wet of your tongue on his. The little scratches of your nails in his beard, the moans caught in your throat.

Dizzying – and fucking perfect.

You break apart and lean in to each other, catching your breath. Joel’s hands slip beneath the heavy leather of his jacket onto your waist.

“Unless…” you whisper, pulling away from him, “…you don’t want to. In which case, I’ll just…” You twirl back towards the door, batting your eyelashes.

Joel smiles. He catches your wrist and reels you back into his body. “I want to,” he breathes, kissing you again. “I want to.”

“Let’s go.”

You make it to your apartment door, fumbling with your keys – and Joel’s hands are glued to your waist.

You miss the lock over and over as he kisses your neck, grazing the skin with his teeth. Anything to satiate the hunger quickly taking over, the tightening in his jeans.

He pulls you against his hips – rough denim grinding into the curve of your ass. He can smell your flowery perfume, a strange melding of peony and menthol sharp in his nostrils.

It’s the hungriest he’s ever felt, he thinks – a starved animal pinning his prey to her flecked apartment door. He pauses, bottom lip damp against your neck; breathing a liquor-laced laugh over your skin.

You jam the key into the lock. The door finally shunts open and you spill inside, dragging Joel with you.

Your place is dark. Angled strips of streetlight thrown high up the bare walls and across the ceiling, splintered by tilted shades. The spill of a blanket draped over an empty couch; a pair of sneakers left on the rug. Joel’s knees brush by a houseplant guarding the door – heavy leaves which pfft when they sway out of his way.

It’s half-decorated. Temporary. Caught somewhere between home and away. Little fragments pieced together into something the shape of home: a mosaic vase that scatters light across the surface of the coffee table; a beaded curtain pinned around the closet doorway.

Like you’re a little magpie, collecting trinkets of silver and gold until your nest feels like yours. Bags dropped long enough to keep a Monstera plant alive, not to put nails in the wall for the frames propped against the skirting board.

You shrug Joel’s jacket off, dropping it over the back of the couch. When you spin back around to him, he lifts your chin with two fingers and presses his lips to yours. You lead him down the hallway, tumbling into your room.

He follows you over to your bed, collapsing onto a tousled mess of sheets with his hips between yours. The hem of your dress rides up your thighs, bunching around your hips and revealing a flash of pink lace underneath.

The world around him seems to sober up for a second, sharpens into focus. It begins to seep in: the realization that he has you – some girl he met no more than two hours ago in a bar – pinned to your mattress. A slick gathering in your underwear and a weight building in his.

Right now, he should be sinking into squealing bedsprings in a Super 8. Bathing in the flicker of a television set twenty years too old. He should be showered and rested – ready to head home at sunrise, if not sooner.

But then something led him to you, and – well.

There’s no fucking helping him now, is there?

Joel’s fingers hook around your panties. He pulls down, leaving a trail of kisses along your bare leg, until that same pink lace is dripping from your ankle.

His eyes flash up to yours, love-drunk and sparkling. He pushes your knees apart, watching your velvet folds open for him, and – oh, he thinks, staring at the glistening arousal smeared around your cunt. Such a slick little mess for him already.

“Goddamn, darlin’,” he licks his lips, “She’s so pretty.”

You hum, hands lowering. Your fingers separate, spreading your pussy for him. Your middle finger swirls around your clit, dips along your seam. And the n, silky and shining, you lift your hand again and slip your fingers into your mouth.

“Tastes even better than she looks,” you murmur, dappling your fingertip along your bottom lip.

Joel growls. He pushes down on your thighs, ignoring your little yelp, and drags the tip of his tongue through your slit.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp, back arching. Your fingers knot in his hair, twisting and tightening. “Shitshitshit.”

“Mhm,” he hums against you, tongue pushing inside.

Fuck, you’re just so perfect: so soft and warm and fucking dripping for him. He laps at your sweet center, wet already spreading all over his mouth and beard.

A dampness blooms in his boxers. He’s throbbing, fucking aching the longer he goes untouched. He grinds against the mattress, denim rough against his solid erection.

He lifts his chin, panting – satisfied by the way you squirm under the weight of him. “You like that, huh?” he asks, a sodden kiss to your mound. “Fuckin’ love it.”

He spits a thick bead of saliva, watching it dribble down your folds to your ass. His tongue swipes it back up, circling your clit, all slippery and swollen.

“Fuck, Joel,” you moan, tugging on his hair. Your legs spasm, hips lifting.

He loves the sound of his name when you say it. Broken in two, a lilt to it as it rolls from your tongue and down his spine. Like it’s yours as much as it is his, now.

He sucks hard on your clit, his tongue flicking. And he can tell you’re close; can feel your hips starting to lose rhythm, see your back desperately arching higher and higher.

Joel groans, pushing up to hover over you. He cups between your legs, dabbing two thick fingers at your entrance, and pushes in.

Your pussy draws him in knuckle-deep. Your chest lifts, the loose neckline of your dress exposing more and more. You grab your breast, pinching your nipple – a roll of pebbled flesh between your fingertips.

He lowers his lips to your ear – watching as you toy with yourself. “Come on, baby,” he grits his teeth, “Give me one. Let me feel this pretty cunt.”

Your head rolls back into the pillow; a high sob as your orgasm crests. Clamping tight around him; a warm flood down his fingers.

Joel kisses you as you come. You look so pretty, he thinks, with ecstasy behind your eyes and his fingers between your legs.

Christ, he wants to be inside you so badly. Wants to feel your cunt do all this around his cock instead.

The blood rushes between his hips.

His fingers slip in and out, bringing you back around. Joel’s lips are on your neck, murmuring, “Good girl, that’s my girl,” as you resurface.

Your eyes open again – glossy, glazed with the aftershock of your high. “Fuck,” you breathe, playing with the hem of his shirt.

He pulls his fingers out and sucks them clean. Whips the tee over his head in one motion; another kiss tucked under your chin as you peel your dress from your body. He tosses it to the floor.

Still dazed, your body still trembling, you ask, “Do you have a condom?” All dreamy and distant, your hands trailing along his belt.

Joel pauses. Tilts his head, frowning. “I’m on a road trip with my brother, baby – the hell would I bring condoms for?”

You roll your eyes, sighing. It’s the cutest thing Joel thinks he’s ever seen. You thread the belt through the loops of his jeans. “In case you meet a really cool girl at a bar and wanna take her home, maybe?”

He lifts his eyebrows, impressed. He slips his salty tongue over yours again.

You moan at the taste. “It’s just I’m…I’m all out.”

His belt drops to the floor; buckle clinking against hardwood.

“Well, shit,” Joel whispers.

It’s not exactly a scenario he predicted, setting off from Austin. Meeting you wasn’t on the bucket list for the trip. It’s another three, four, probably five things to add to the list of shit he doesn’t do, shouldn’t do, wouldn’t fucking do if it hadn’t been for you.

No, Joel thinks, groaning as you palm the solid shape of him – he didn’t bring a goddamn condom. Jesus, the most he has in his pockets right now is fifteen bucks and a stick of gum.

You unzip his pants, shrugging the denim loose. “We can just do it…without,” you offer.

Joel stares down at you. “You sure?”

You nod, biting your lip. “Just pull out, right?”

“Just pull out…” he echoes. Your hands are cold on his heated skin, but he’s not about to fucking stop you.

You tug his underwear down with his jeans, following the darkening hair from his navel down. Another quiet pull out passes your lips – your voice dissolving when you spot the thick base of his dick.

Joel’s shaft springs free, heavy against the inside of his thigh.

“Holy shit.” You push yourself up on your elbows, eyes flooding black.

His tongue runs along the bottom of his teeth. He thrusts forward into your hand, a glassy drop of precome dribbling from his slit.

Your thumb swipes across his flushed tip, fingers wrapping around his width. You roll his balls in your other palm, massaging and squeezing just the right amount.

“Easy, easy,” Joel whispers. Too much, too soon. He can’t come yet, not until he feels your fluttering cunt around his cock.

Instead, you reach up – snaking an arm around his neck. You pull him back down, his naked body flush against yours, and hike a knee over his hip.

He grinds into you, his cock nudging between your legs. They fall apart for him – pliant and keen, like petals unfolding. He covers himself in your slick, his tip catching below your clit.

“Pl-ease,” you whine, scratching at his shoulders.

Joel nips at your damp neck. “Please, what?” he taunts.

Your breath is hot against his cheek – a stifling request which curls up in the shell of his ear. “F-fuck me.”

And his hips roll into yours.

“Jesus f…” your face buries into his chest, “…you’re…you’re so fucking big, Joel, I can’t –”

He nudges between your walls, groaning into your skin. You’re even tighter around his cock, even cozier. “I know,” he pants, “I know. Take it, baby, know you can take it.”

You stretch around him, opening up the deeper he pushes. “Fuckfuckfuck,” you pant, the thick hair at his base finally brushing against your clit. “Fuck, Joel.”

“Look at me,” he taps your jaw, “Hey. Look at me. Breathe.”

You exhale, hot and shaky across his lips.

“Good, that’s good.” Joel nods. He holds you by the waist, lets you adjust to his size.

He pulls back, your cunt clamping around him. Halfway out, and then in again. Feeling you open up, inch by inch, until he builds a steady rhythm.

“Jesus, baby, she’s so…” he moans, “…she’s so goddamn tight.”

You drape an arm over his shoulders, a hissing pain where your nails dig into his skin. Yelping each time he bottoms out, your leaking cunt wrapped snug around him. “So – goddamn – big,” you whine, a ruined smile on your lips.

He slams his body into yours again, watching the way your tits bounce. Nipples hard, skin tacky and shining with sweat. Your pussy pinches, and he starts to unravel.

Fuck the road trip, Joel thinks, fuck all of it. This is where he should be: in the middle of your bed, burrowed deep between your legs. This is the only place he wants to fucking be, right now.

So he fucks you harder; the headboard hammering against the wall. A fistful of the pillow, his knuckles whitening. He guides his cock when he slips out – a filthy sound as your clutch sucks him back in.

“Fuck,” he growls, gripping your hips so hard he worries he might bruise you. His thrusts become sloppy – quick and desperate.

“So close,” you gasp. You’re squeezing him so tight that he sees stars. “I’m gonna – I’m…”

Perfect, Joel thinks, watching you bloom. You’re so fucking perfect.

He coaxes you through it. Slows enough to feel you come around his cock, your warmth as it gushes all over him. “That’s it, baby, I got you. Shit, you’re gonna make me come.”

He pulls out just in time to coat your stomach; a throaty groan as he comes. He pumps his shaft, covering from your sternum to the plush of your tummy. It dribbles down your waist, spurts between your breasts.

He collapses over you, pressing his forehead to yours. His dick, soaked and softening, smears the ejaculate across your skin.

You giggle, leaving sticky kisses along his beard.

“You okay?” he asks, breathless.

You nod, and his tongue dabs at the inside of your lips. You taste like sex and sweat – sweet and salt.

Joel shifts to the edge of the bed. He feels you follow, your lips featherlight on the curve of his shoulder.

You make to stand – going to clean yourself up, he reckons, your tummy dripping with his semen – and he locks a hand around your bare thigh.

“Stay,” he says, voice low and rough – sex still smoldering. “Let me get you a towel.”

You smile, resting your chin on his shoulder. Your fingers link around the other side of his waist. “I’ll get it. Just relax.”

And for a minute or two, you stay like that. Hooked onto one another, tired eyes closing over, breathing in rhythm. Your cheek on his shoulder, your knee brushing against his tummy.

It’s simple; quiet and still. Joel feels like half a person – the other half tracing her chipped nails along his bare thigh. Eyelashes fluttering, teeth holding back a grin that she thinks might give her away.

Eventually, you move. Shimmy yourself down the mattress, swipe a crinkled tee from the ottoman – and slink off to the bathroom.

Joel lies back against the headboard, body sticky hot. He watches the shadow of your figure stretch across the open door. His eyes drift upwards to the looping ceiling fan – only half as dizzying as the sound of your humming in the next room.

And just when he starts to think he might be fucking missing you, you reappear in the doorway. Leant against the frame, some worn band tee hanging from your shoulders. Arms crossed; smiling back at him.

A rush of words floods to the tip of his tongue. You look beautiful. Your makeup’s smudged, chains of your necklace twisted; your shirt is frayed and splotched with faded stains – and you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

He holds his arms out and you prance over.

You crawl over his figure, kissing your way up to his lips, and then turn in his lap. Cradled against his broad chest, your head nuzzling into the dark threads of hair between his pecs. You clasp one of his hands in two of yours.

“Offer’s still there for a shower, if you want it,” you whisper, kissing the pads of his fingers.

Joel tilts his head, mumbling against your temple, “Will you be in there with me?”

You answer something shaped like a tease, just as sharp with wit – but he’s too busy watching your nails trace his open palm. Too distracted by the sweet scent of your skin: a fresh burst of fruit, singed with the edge of tobacco.

“What do you do for work?” you ask.

He makes some sort of sleepy sound – a grunt, a hm? into your skull. “Oh, uh – I’m a contractor,” he says.

Your chin lifts. “That why your palms are all…?” Your thumb strokes light as lace against his worn skin.

“Probably,” Joel admits. He draws shapes on your thigh with his free hand.

“Do you sand the wood with your bare hands, or somethin’?”

Joel scoffs. “Alright, alright. You liked my hands plenty, twenty minutes ago.”

Your cheeks lift, a low hum caught in your throat. You angle your head to let his lips trail along your shoulder, pressing into the hinge of your jaw. A dark nail following the landscape of Joel’s skin – each score and divot, the callused pads at the bottom of each finger.

“You have sorta…earth hands, I think.”

It sits in the air for a few seconds before Joel turns to you. “What?”

“Earth hands. Or, well – I guess they could be water, if you look at ‘em this way.” You open up his hand, fingers stretched. “I don’t really know. I’m still learning.”

He looks down at you. Feels the now-steady pulse of your heart on his sternum. “Learnin’…hands?”

You snort. “Palm reading, Joel.”

His brows draw tight. He licks the inside of his whiskey-stained cheek. “You’re into all that hippie sh…stuff?”

You knock your knuckles against his chest, still staring at his hands. The hills and their valleys, the ravine-like lines; the worn skin and hatch marks.

“Let’s see…Your heart line,” you whisper – more to yourself than Joel, but he’s listening all the same. “It’s pretty deep, which means the relationships you’ve had have been…important. But it’s kinda…it tails off right here, see? It’s broken. So…I guess they didn’t end too good.”

Joel raises an eyebrow – playful, encouraging your timid smile. Keep figuring me out, he thinks, stoking the curious flame behind your eyes. “Alright,” he says, “Now tell me something you didn’t already know about me.”

You gawk, holding his wrist up. “You don’t see that? The way it breaks up? I’m not bullshitting you, Joel, it’s –”

“Naw, I see it,” he nods, squinting a little at his palm, “Just – tell me more. What’s all these other lines mean?”

“Well,” you adjust between his hips, “you got your life line right here. Short, which means –”

“Don’t tell me that part.”

“No,” you roll your eyes, “It just means you’re independent. You never needed much from anyone. And it runs past this mount – these are called mounts – right here. Venus: all to do with love and sexuality.”

Joel holds your open palm next to his, comparing them. He takes less than a second’s look, lines his lips to your ear and says, “Seem like a pretty good match to me.”

You wriggle when he tickles your ribcage, trying to twist out of his grasp. You’re laughing again – the same laugh he’s been hearing all damn night. The same giggle that’s had his stomach somersaulting since he first heard it.

The room seems to light with it, this glow he feels from you – as if you’re the sun. Spent and still half-drunk; lazing with a stranger in the middle of her bed. Tracing the lines and scars on his palm, telling him how logical and grounded he’s supposed to be.

As if the world orbits around you – everything you touch turning to molten gold. And for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, Joel looks at you and wonders: Where the hell did you come from?

You hold your hand against his, folding your fingers perfectly together. The evidence of your night flaking from Joel’s knuckles; sweat still simmering on the nape of his neck.

He hasn’t done this for years. Hasn’t felt this gentle aftermath. It’s usually a rush, a hastened zip and clink of his pants. An awkward dance, plucking clothes from the bedroom floor and pacing back to his truck.

It’s never like this. Talking and laughing, holding and kissing. Questions about his parents and yours; his biggest dream as a kid, or the time you broke your arm falling out of a tree.

He tells you stories about growing up with Tommy; tells you Sarah’s favorite flavor of cake. He tells you about the time they tried to make it for a school bake sale, forgot to turn the oven off, and almost burned the damn kitchen down.

You snicker and tell him that never would’ve happened if you were there.

Yeah, well, Joel smiles, I wish you were.

He notices you’re drifting off, despite your slurred protests and your weak grip on his wrist. He pulls you under the covers, curving his body around yours, praying that the quickening drum of his heartbeat won’t wake you.

His nose nuzzles into the curve of your skull, his hands link in front of your tummy. And he wonders whether his body was made with yours in mind.

He glances out at the sky – light starting to bleed from the horizon – and wills the turn of the sun to slow. Only a little; just let him stay here a little while longer.

Just a little while.

Dawn forces her way in eventually – more unwelcome than ever before.

There’s a throb between his temples which swells to life when the light floods past his pupils. “Jesus Christ,” he grumbles, face turning back into the pillow. He gives you a gentle squeeze and then pushes up from the mattress.

You roll to the middle of the bed, still sound asleep. The sun spills golden all over the valleys and crests of your body. The bedsheets carve pathways up to your hips, dipping at your waist.

Last night, there was something so mystical about you – so otherworldly. Joel felt himself drawn towards you like a compass needle shooting north, the second he felt your weight crash against his spine.

A figure behind a cloud of smoke, like the mountaintops disappearing into a thick mist. And now, blood drained of alcohol, you’re just you.

Your shirt is twisted around your shoulders. Your lips puffy, mumbling to yourself in your doze. Makeup smudged like chalk under your eyes, and still – just as beautiful. Just as radiant as you were ten hours ago.

Joel rubs his eyes, sitting on the edge of the bed. He blinks down at his bare feet, the morning sharpening into focus. As he lifts his phone from the nightstand, the cable drops – hitting the wooden floor with a snap.

He pauses, shoulders hunched. Hears you stir over his shoulder, and turns around.

The earth of your body shifts beneath cotton hills, clouds of sleep clearing from behind your eyes. “Hey,” you whisper, voice pretty and broken.

A little bird in the palm of his hand – that magpie curled up in her nest of gems and trinkets.

“Hey.” He leans down and kisses your cheek. “Sorry, darlin’, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You wrap your arms around his wrist, tugging. “Are…are you…leaving?”

Joel feels a pang in his chest, and he doesn’t know why. He takes a deep breath. Your scent fills his lungs and steadies his heart. “I…” he sniffs, “…I gotta go home, baby.”

You give a slow and heavy nod. “S-Sarah…”

He strokes your head with his thumb. “Yeah. Shh, go back to sleep. It’s still early.”

He glances at his phone – it’s just after six. He knows Tommy will be waiting for him, parked outside the Super 8 and wondering where the hell Joel is. He knows Sarah will be, too – sat by the living room window, listening for the rumble of their bikes.

And still, he thinks – How do I fucking leave you? Leave this?

He shouldn’t even be entertaining the thought. He has a kid waiting for him back home; soccer practice, packed lunches, homework and bedtime stories. He has work to do, bills to pay, a roof to keep over their heads. It’s all waiting in Austin, two hundred miles away.

As though you can see the question flipping in his mind, you pull him closer. A weak finger in the palm of his hand, drawing circles. Your bleary gaze meets his, and you whisper, “In the next life.”

Joel smiles. Twelve hours ago, he’d have laughed at the idea of it. Now, he’s not so sure. He kisses your knuckles, muttering, “Promise.”

Another wave of sleep washes over you, and you’re gone again.

Joel pushes himself from the bed, reaching for his clothes. His back twinges as he stretches, pulling his T-shirt over his shoulders. He steps into his jeans; pinches his belt between two fingers and lifts it from the floor.

He leans over and tilts your shades the opposite way, dulling your bedroom. He unplugs the charger, neatly winds the cord, and sits it on your nightstand. He fixes his side of the sheets: folds them over the mattress, tucks them in at your back.

With a deep breath, he makes for the door.

His jaw turns, eyes still low. Your dress is in a heap at the foot of the bed; a tube of lip gloss lying next to it. He looks up, following the landscape of sheets – the slope from your ankle to your hip. Your hunched shoulders, your cheek smushed into the pillow.

If he looks too long, he’ll never leave.

The image burns golden into his eyes. He hopes for half a heartbeat that you’ll wake again and pull him back into bed. Kiss him all over, whisper something sharp and sweet in his ear. Touch him and graze him and wrap yourself around him – anchoring him right here and now.

But you don’t.

And Joel slips out of the room.

Jackson stirs to life over his shoulder.

A white lump in the snow-covered valley, the settlement seems so far away now. Tommy sets off up ahead, leading the way to the outpost. The blizzard is picking up – it almost swallows the silhouette of him whole.

Joel had tried to warn him: the weather would be too bad to see five feet in front of them, never mind any infected. But Tommy argued with the same determination that dragged the pair of them into that dive bar thirty years ago, and Joel didn’t have half the energy nor the will to argue back.

He’s thinking about you. He always is.

Your searing gaze over the rim of your glass; the weight of you against his chest. The tickling of your nail on his palm, severing each line and changing him forever. You and your palm lines.

You were just learning to read them. Joel didn’t know a thing about any of it, and he told you so. You took his hand in yours and said, Here. Let me see.

He runs a thumb down his fate line, swaying in time with his horse. And he shakes his head with a little smile – he still remembers which one is fate and which is heart.

He still remembers all of it. He has earth hands. All salt and soil and solid as stone. His earth hands have gotten him this far, right? Twenty-five years and he’s still here. Gray and grown; stiff joints and sewn-up scars.

His head line has channeled more strangers’ blood than Joel can count. Mounts that’ve stopped breath in the throat of any man who crossed him. He doesn’t think you’d recognize his hands anymore, if your fingertips traced over them again. Broken and bruised and bloody.

And he doesn’t think he’d want you to – doesn’t want you to meet the shadow of the man you knew back then. He’d prefer you remember that same brown-eyed, soft-touched stranger with enough charm and naivety to survive anything. No need for bone-breaking fists or bloodstained hands.

Where are you, he wonders?

The answer knots deep in his stomach: the same old rope twisting into the same old shape. A fist of anger, of guilt. Some terrible cocktail of both, spilling poison through his veins.

He’s terrified to wonder what might’ve happened if he had ever made it back there. What he might’ve found in your apartment – what he might not.

Where would you have gone, that day? Would you have fled, or would you have stayed?

You were smart, he knows that much. He saw the cogs of your mind turning right in front of him, standing opposite each other in that bar. Barely thirty seconds in and he could’ve sworn you had him all figured out.

But – oh, Jesus, you were kind. Open and willing to help a stranger with a dead phone and a tired smile. Would that kindness still glow as bright against the flicker of a world on fire?

A lone hawk swoops down before him, shooting straight between the pines. Joel slips his glove back over his freezing hand.

He thinks about you every day. Every fucking day, and it never eases. Never loosens. It keeps him up some nights – the truth he’s too afraid to look square in the face.

You live now in the back of his mind like a little ghost. His little ghost – still floating around that dusty city; the warm light of life and innocence still bright in your eyes.

Tommy glances over his shoulder. He gestures ahead as if to say, Would you take a look at this goddamn storm?

And Yeah, Joel thinks, I’m lookin’, brother.

All he wants is to go home. Jackson, Austin, the bedroom of your apartment in San Angelo. Just let me go back.

He blinks, and the snow melts to cracked asphalt under a lilac sunset. Tommy’s holding handlebars instead of reins. The horses’ hot puffs of breath darken to clouds of smoke, choking from the exhaust pipes of the Harleys.

You’re somewhere on the other side of town, waiting for him in the faint glow of a jukebox. Sipping what’s left of your rum and Coke, fishing a twenty from your purse for the next round.

Just let me go back home.

He tugs on his horse’s reins and pulls off after his brother.

[zriasstuff]

This is a kinda random request but how would the sytherin boys react when they see boxers in your room assuming it’s another guys when it’s actually yours. I wear boxers so i just randomly thought of this. 💗💗

This is actually fire, I gladly imagined how this situation would play out. Although some things go similarly, I tried to differentiate their reactions and actions a little bit. Enjoy this crack :)

Slytherin boys x reader

How come you’ve been in a relationship for some time already and they don’t know that you wear boxers ? God knows, maybe they’ve just had a rough day and all critical thinking tends to fly out the window. Jealousy and fear of losing you are hard emotions to control…

Theodore Nott:

when Theo sees them, he aggressively cups your face and pierces your soul with his hunter like eyes all of a sudden

“that’s one skinny bastard that you’re fucking behind my back, does he even have a dick?”, he refers to your own boxers, that are obviously a few sizes smaller

“Tell me, how come you’re such a slut that having me isn’t enough? you actually have to find yourself a side bitch?”

it took some time to recover from his harsh scolding, but soon enough your brain worked again and spat out the right words

Theo backs up in shock when hearing your explanation that made a lot of sense

As a returning favor he should get a scolding too for immediately jumping to conclusions and not communicating properly, but they’re all a bunch of hotheads anyway

It all turns into a funny anecdote though, which also serves as a reminder for him to trust his girl

Tom Riddle:

as soon as he sees them lying around somewhere his expression becomes stoic, brows furrowed just the tiniest bit and lips pursed

of course you noticed even the slightest change, so you reach for his hand to ask him what was wrong. you remember though that sometimes he just gets stressed because he has so much to think about

without properly getting to know the situation he would want to insult and intimidate you, he immediately fumes and threatens: “you are dead to me, and you are going to regret this”

his words and tone especially made you want to cry, you felt yourself curling up, standing beneath his tall frame, not even knowing what you did

he was not only mad at you, but also at himself for letting his guard down, which led to him being played like a fool. there was nothing more important that his self worth and dignity to him

still, you begged and whined for him to stay and when you finally understood that he saw “another guys” boxers on your floor, you actually scoffed and remained speechless for a while

although he was slightly paranoid that you might be lying to him, he saw how distressed you were when he wanted to break up, and that’s something you can’t fake (he still is very wary though, and has to pretend he didn’t just imagine ways to kill and torture “the other guy”)

Mattheo Riddle:

like his brother, he couldn’t stand the thought of someone hurting him, only the other way around

especially with his abandonment issues too this makes him jump from zero to one hundred

but unlike Tom he actually wants to hear your side, to decide how he should handle this and scorned at you: “for fucks sake, you’ve been cheating on me? I don’t know if you thought I was never going to find out, but keeping his bloody boxers is just disgusting. You care to explain?!”

He even picks them up from your bed, and throws them into a corner, shooting them and you a disgusting look

You don’t appreciate his attitude at all, and if that boy knew that he just threw your own boxers, he’d be down on his knees

You can’t take this seriously and tell him “never seen a girl wear boxers?”, that made things so awkward, and Mattheo quickly apologizes, hopefully you’d forget about this…

Draco Malfoy:

His jealousy promptly get the better of him and he thinks about all the idiots that have tried hitting on you, or ever liked you, which one of them was it?

He couldn’t believe that anyone was worth jeopardizing your relationship, but apparently so

Grabbing you close to him, while pointing at the boxers, he growls “so whose are they huh? Carter? Lewis? You better tell me it’s not that stupid Potter”

While you’re talking, he is still so mad that isn’t even hearing everything that you’re saying, he physically couldn’t calm down when thinking about you jumping into bed with someone else

He would take the boxers too, observing at them closely, and then somewhat sneered “I didn’t know girls also wore boxers”

Draco wouldn’t necessarily be a fan, but came to the conclusion that what you wear under your clothes really wasn’t any of his business

At some point he also wants to see what you look like wearing them, and they actually looked kind of cool

Blaise Zabini:

just like all the others, his thoughts immediately jump to violence, for instance how to get the other guy admitted into the hospital wing

but something makes him stop and think—why wouldn’t you even bother to hide them somewhere? did you think he was so incredibly blind, or did you actually have nothing to hide?

Still his temper gets the best of him and accuses you of being “shameless” and asks if you were trying to insinuate that he “wasn’t good enough” because you’re wrong and he can fuck you better than anyone else

He always thought that everything was going well, so you being unsatisfied was really the last thing he expected

Fortunately everything gets resolved quite easily since you reassure him, and you even tease him about his jealousy

For the rest of the night, Blaise in fact proves that he can fuck you the best. That was the best apology for doubting you in the first place

Lorenzo Berkshire:

He gets extremely upset and has an outburst too, but with a hint of self consciousness, asking you how you could do this to him, when he’s always trying his best

Enzo also relies on guilt, wanting to make you feel like absolute shit, he says stuff like “i gave up being a player for you because I love- loved- you so much, but apparently you see me as nothing

You have to try your hardest to make him see how ridiculous he was being, and he demands you tell him how you would never cheat on him

Seeing you in your boxers for the first time also makes him smirk, you could really rock anything

[sencrose]

-- WHEN STARS REALIGN

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

wc: 3.2k

tags: NONCON, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, toys (vibrator/dildo), soulmate AU, ambiguous backstory, fingering, creampie, pwp

a/n: this is the second time gojo has distracted me from another thing i've been working on. i need to evict him from my brain. ao3 link here

summary: Years after you leave the world of jujutsu, Satoru returns to claim what's his.

At some point in time, you had potential.

Nothing record breaking in the grand scheme of things; the balance of the world didn’t shift when you were born. But, you were on track to graduate as a grade one sorcerer, a bundle of accolades and accomplishments under your belt. It was potential, nonetheless.

All you have left are memories. 

The day you found Satoru Gojo’s name written on your wrist, and the chaos that unleashed shortly after. A hasty withdrawal, starting from scratch with no connections. It’s what you had to do.  

But even memories fade with time. Some already have.

These days, life is much more mundane. Water cooler talk, boring meetings about raising profits, the oh so wonderful view of your gray cubicle that fills your vision for sixty hours a week –  if you’re lucky. At the very least, you can take solace that you were able to make things work in your favor – a promotion on the way, a comfortable salary, and a decent apartment. 

Sometimes the hypothetical flits past your mind. What if you stayed? What if you didn’t abandon jujutsu? If you didn’t abandon him? But the thought flies by so fast, and you have no desire to chase after it.

With a slam of your laptop, you check out for the day, making your way past the elevators, the security gates, on to the bustling train you take to get back home. Everything is the same as always – until you get back to your apartment. The door is slightly ajar, and you know you’re not the type to leave it so. 

Hesitantly, you push it open. Nothing in the hallway at least. Nothing in the bathroom, kitchen, or living room either. What are the actual chances that someone, or something is really in there? Maybe this whole thing is a fluke. That doesn’t stop your hand from trembling as you push the door open, peering through the crack like a child in search of a bedtime monster.

“Welcome back!”

Not a monster, but close.  

As soon as his voice hits your ears, your body freezes. Gojo sits on your bed leisurely, hands leaned against the back of his head with his legs crossed. Not much has changed about him, other than the solid blindfold replacing his round specs.

“Miss me?”

You take in the sight of him more, questioning if it’s really him. He’s taller than you remember, but only by a small margin. It brings back memories of him towering over you, encroaching on your personal space more than you like. It’s a struggle to get any words to slip past your tongue with your memories flooding back into you, a homecoming of sorts.

“Why…” you attempt to ask, but your voice is barely audible, a soft whimper.

“What’s that?” he asks, bringing his hand to his ear, “You’re gonna have to speak up, sweetheart.”

“Why are you here?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I’m your soulmate after all,” he replies, emphasizing the label. You’re well aware that some would die for the opportunity to be forever linked to the strongest sorcerer, good looks and all. You however, are not fond of the idea.

“How did you find out where I am?”

“Call it divine intervention,” he says with a cheeky smile, one you didn’t miss.

“Why now?”

“Aw, did you want me to come fetch you sooner? You should’ve saved me the trouble and come to me yourself.”

“W-what?” you ask warily, before letting out a sigh, “no, just. Just leave, Satoru.”

“Aw, come on, the least you could do is give me a warm welcome. How long has it been now? Five years?”

“Six,” you corrected him.

“And you didn’t call once?” he asks with a pout, voice far too sweet to be genuine, “you could’ve called.”

“I don’t have your phone number,” you reply curtly.

“You deleted it?” he asks, gasping dramatically while covering his mouth in a sarcastic attempt to seem baffled, “oh, you’re really hurting my feelings.”

“What do you want?” you ask, your patience running its limit.

“Isn’t it obvious, sweetheart?” he retorts, sitting up from the bed. It is, but you don’t want to accept the reality in front of you. Satoru’s here, and he’s going to take you back. Panic runs its course through your body, your heart beating faster, your breathing uneven. Before the thought of running away even reaches your legs, he’s grabbing your arm and pulling you onto the bed. 

“Let go of me!” You struggle under his grip, but you know it’s for naught. Satoru’s always been stronger than you, and you have no chance of winning. 

“So you can run away again?”

You don’t dare meet his gaze, only for his hand to grip your cheeks together to turn you towards him.

“I’d like an answer,” he says, his face far too close for comfort, as if you’re looking at him through a kaleidoscope –  unable to escape the overwhelming image of him.

“And I’d like for you to leave,” you snap back. If you could spit at him, you would. “But I guess we both like things that are out of reach.”

“Fine, be like that,” he scoffs, “I’ll have fun either way.”

Gojo undoes the zipper of your skirt before hiking it up to your waist. You squirm under his touch, not making things much better for yourself, the fabric of your skirt rising higher and higher. All that’s left is your stockings and underwear, the last bastion against his hands. Not that it’s much of a barrier to begin with. His fingers are warm, sending an involuntary heat through you as he slides them up your thigh before pressing down on your clothed slit.

“Should probably do something about this first, huh?” 

The sound of ripped nylons fill your ears, cacophonous and dissonant. That’s one layer down. Panic fills your chest as his fingers now touch your bare skin, sending a chill up your spine. Satoru’s hand pulls the fabric of your underwear aside, and you wince at the air grazing your bare cunt.

“Wait, Satoru, stop,” you say, a distance in your voice, in disbelief that this is happening.

“Why?” he asks, craning his neck to feign confusion, “we have so much to catch up on.”

His hand presses against your slit, fingers sliding up and down to collect the arousal your body has been forming.

“At least your body’s honest about missing me,” he teases, rolling your clit in between his fingers. The motion has your back arching off the bed, only for Gojo to press your hips back down. You don’t want to give in, not to him of all people. It’s a dangerous game, once you give him what he wants, all he’ll do is take, take, take. But when he plays with your clit so naturally, and has that warm bubble of pleasure threatening to rise to the surface, it’s hard to persevere.

His hand suddenly stops, and you feel both relief in your chest, and an aching want in your core. You can only hope he’s had his fun, but hope is a fickle thing.

“You know…” He pauses, humming thoughtfully as if he has a surprise in store. “You’ve got some interesting stuff in your drawer.”

The blood in your veins go ice cold. 

“You should’ve let me know you missed me so much. I’m way better than this garbage.”

He brings out your toys from his pockets, and you can only assume he went through your stuff when he broke into your apartment. And though you’re no prude, it is embarrassing to see it laid out bare in front of you.

“I mean, is this even any good?” He ogles at the bullet vibrator, pressing the button to turn it on with a crisp click. The toy comes alive, and you shiver at the realization it’s in the hands of someone who can and will turn it into a torture device.

Satoru presses your legs against your chest, having a clear view of your bare pussy. It’s too embarrassing to match his gaze, but you have no choice as he presses the vibrator, hard onto your clit. The sudden onslaught of vibrations is met with a sharp pain, before it leaves as fast as it came. Pleasure rushes in its place, but it’s too much, too soon. Before you know it your body seizes as you come, jolts of ecstasy flashing through your body before fizzling out.

“Guess it is,” he comments with a sly smirk on his face.

You’re barely able to recover from your first orgasm before Satoru’s putting it back onto your oversensitive clit. Anticipation starts to build in your body, your muscles tightening against your will.

“Satoru, please, let me rest,” you plead. 

He responds by pressing his finger against your hole, sliding it in with little effort. Once he sees how well you take him, he’s pressing in another and a moan escapes you.

“You’ve rested plenty for the last six years,” he purrs, voice low, eyes filled with lust.

Satoru is mean with how he plays with your pussy, scissoring his fingers inside you while diligently pressing the vibrator against your clit. Tension builds in your core, low and warm. That familiar bubble starts building again, and you writhe at the promise of another orgasm. Satoru’s fingers hook into your pussy, starting a steady pace while hitting your g-spot. Your voice isn’t anything you recognize, panting and moaning sinfully with each pass. You feel it coming again, and you resign yourself to the inevitable. 

The betrayal of your body is too much for you, as you sob through your climax, muscles clamping on his fingers as you ride through it. At the very least, the main note is pleasure, even if you can feel the threat of pain creeping up on you with how sore your muscles are, how your clit throbs far after he’s removed the toys and fingers from you.

Satoru finally releases you from his grip, your legs gracelessly dropping onto the bed. 

“Thought you’d had a little more fight in you,” he quips, lips curling into a sly grin.

You’re not able to come back with a sharp retort, only able to focus on catching your breath and collecting yourself. The only thing that catches your attention is the sound of another device coming alive in his hands. 

“Ugh, this looks kinda gross,” he sneers, showcasing a seldom used self-thrusting dildo in his hand, pinching it as if he’s holding a piece of rotting fruit, “you really play with this?”

You want to respond no, you don’t use it. It was a gag gift from one of your friends who had a quirky sense of humor. The only thing that leaves your lips is a groan.

Satoru, of course, has no intention of letting you rest. He spreads your legs open, the dildo pulsing vigorously, one good thrust away from penetrating your quivering hole.

“S-Satoru, please-”

“Please what?” he asks, voice obviously mocking your desperation.

“Give me a break, just a few minutes-”

“No,” he interrupts, punctuating the end of his sentence by pushing the dildo inside of you. It’s unnatural, uncomfortable as it stretches out your pussy, scraping your walls with each thrust. It’s too deep, nearly punching the air out your lungs as it undulates.

The once comforting sound during your lonely nights now buzzes incessantly in your ears. The vibrator starts again and you find yourself running into the wall that is your bed frame. With no way to escape, Satoru presses the bullet on your aching clit, and your body tenses up yet again.

“You’re too easy to please, you know that right?” he taunts, pressing both toys harder into you. 

Words die on the tip of your tongue, morphing into soft sobs and incoherent moans. You’re sure you’re saying ‘it’s too much’ somewhere in the flurry of noises, but it doesn’t reach Satoru’s ears. Of course it doesn’t. If anything, it only has him playing rougher with your pussy, thrusting harder with the dildo, drawing circles with the vibrator.

That familiar heat starts to build in your core again, insistent and feverish. It’s a losing game, trying to fight back against it, but you try anyway. Moving your body so that the vibrator isn’t right on your puffy clit, hoping he’ll lose his strong-handed grip on the dildo, anything for a sweet, much-needed moment of respite.

You just wish you didn’t fail so quickly.

“Nope, no running away,” he says with a grin, legs wrapping around yours to keep them open, vulnerable, at his mercy. 

Satoru’s quick to catch on, why wouldn’t he be? His ministrations are unrelenting, his hand now thrusting the dildo inside you with fervor. It hits deeper than anything you’re used to, your head light and dizzy at the overwhelming sensation.

As your muscles tense, pain starts to rear its ugly head, your nerves fried and frayed at the edges. Pleasure zips past your core before immediately rushing into pain and overstimulation. Your moans start to morph into screams, limbs thrashing under Satoru’s grip as he presses his hands on your mouth.

“Geez, you’re gonna scare your neighbors, sweetie,” he says, voice laced with faux concern and an authentic pride, “bet they’ve never heard you scream this loud, right?”

The only response you can give him are muffled moans, trembling legs as you do your best to ride out the messy wave of pleasure and pain. When you finally come back down from your high, Satoru finally pulls his hand away from your mouth. Your legs spasm as he takes the dildo out of you, nearly mourning the fullness that filled you up. 

The sound of his belt unbuckling brings you back to reality, but you have no energy to protest, too wrung out and sore from your unrelenting string of orgasms.

His cock prods against your entrance, and your muscles seize in anticipation. Even with the arousal pooling around your hole, you’re not sure it’s enough to take him. You’re not sure if anything would help you take him. 

When Satoru enters you, he does so achingly slow, savoring the way your walls split to account for his girth. It’s too much, your hands gripping on to the sheets for purchase, aching with how tight you hold on to them. 

“S-Satoru, please, it hurts,” you beg, voice honeyed with the sweetest tone you can muster, hoping that he’ll relent.

“Good,” he pants out, nearly groaning as he bottoms out, “maybe you’ll think twice about leaving.”

The slow drag of him against your insides nearly drives you delirious, and your resolve flickers for a brief, fleeting moment; you almost find yourself daring to ask for more. Not that Satoru would give you a moment to think. His pace steadily builds up, and before you know it the lewd slap of skin against skin echoes throughout the room, and you can’t help but whine at the way he fills you up so perfectly. 

Satoru brings the vibrator to your clit again, and you shake your head desperately, frenzied, because you know you can’t handle it. Not that he cares – this is a punishment after all. Within moments, his cock rhythmically hits that special spot that has you keening into him, and you can feel his grin against your skin, as if it’s just a game to him, the prize being your compliance.

You don’t want to give him the satisfaction, though that doesn’t stop muffled whimpers and hums from escaping your lips.

“You’re holding back, let me hear your sweet, sweet voice.” His fingers press into your lips, pressing down against your tongue, and what comes out is foreign. You’re not sure if sweet is the apt descriptor for it. Sounds more wet, more choked and coughed. You don’t want to think about the implications.

You can barely hear the snap of Satoru’s hips over your unintelligible moans, but you definitely feel the intensity of his thrusts revving up. Pressing down on your waist, holding you in place so he can fuck the deepest parts of you with pinpoint accuracy.

Tears swell in your eyes again, the sharp sting of overstimulation drawing a jolt out of you. Just a fleeting moment of tightening muscles before falling into an ache that roars in your core. You’re back in a place worse than you started, overworked nerves and a feverish heat that refuses to cool down. There’s nowhere to go, no reprieve, just Satoru holding you down as he ravages your cunt.

“Just take what I give you,” he says, more command than statement, “it’s the least you could do for me, sweetheart.”

The pet name churns your stomach, knowing that he’s blissfully entertained from the whole situation pisses you off to no end. Everything about him pisses you off really – that stupid sly smirk, the beads of sweat collecting along his forehead, and how he barely looks disheveled throughout the whole thing. And though that anger and frustration simmers in you, the promise of climax quickly envelops those feelings, a wave crashing along the shore, taking the bank’s forgotten shells and sediment as it recedes.

Satoru fucks you with a desperation you never thought you’d see in him, fracturing the blasé version of him that lives in your memory. There’s a recklessness to his pace, too hard, too fast, too deep, especially with the vibrator pressed against your clit. 

The tension in your core starts winding itself up again, but you feel it lower, deeper than all the fleeting climaxes you’ve had so far. You don’t want it, you know exactly where it’ll lead, but your body doesn’t care, walls tightening around like Satoru’s cock like it was made for this, as certain as the markings on your wrist.

“You gonna cum again? Can feel you wrappin’ around me,” Satoru pants between strokes, a smug grin on his face as he presses his forehead against yours.

“Nonono, no, I can’t-” You’re interrupted by a particularly mean thrust, only able to finish your thought with a lascivious moan.

“You already have so many times,” he coos, face pressing against yours, “I know you can.” A promise and a threat. Without any warning, Satoru presses a button on the vibrator, and it intensifies. Everything overwhelms you, the warmth of his skin pressed against yours, the fullness of him, the way his hot breath caresses you with each grunt and moan.

Another orgasm rips through you as the tension in your core snaps, muscles trembling and fluttering uncontrollably as he fucks you through it. Your voice and body don’t feel like yours, lewd moans spilling from your lips, arms wrapping around his back for support and pressing his feverish skin against yours.  

“F-fuck,” Satoru pants, and you can tell he’s close. 

With a few more strokes he’s cumming inside you, walls continuing to spasm and convulse around him as he empties hot ropes of semen in your cunt. In terms of the physical, everything about you is washed in warmth, inside and out. When Satoru removes himself from you, you wince at the emptiness and warm seed leaking from your hole. 

An uncharacteristically gentle hand pats your head as you attempt to decipher what the future holds.

“I missed you too.”

[sunpinktulip]

okay you said sent bkdk ideas & BET

1. The climax of she-ra w/ catra’s “dont you get it? I love you, i always have! So please, just this once, STAY!” speech and I actually can’t decide if it’s katsuki begging an unconscious deku to wake up or izuku begging an unconscious kacchan to wake up. But either way.

2. Bakusquad singing She’s In Love from the little mermaid stage show — again can’t decide if it’s about katsuki or deku (with the other one as flounder who is Most Upset about Ariel being in love w someone) (only this time it’s themself that is the love interest) (I have both sets of lyrics divided up and available upon request)

3. Say the Word from the mad ones (sorry yes I’m a theatre kid mb). That’s all. I’m tentatively working on an animatic but I can’t draw

4. Bksquad singing fixer upper from frozen. Bakugou is Kristoff & Deku is Anna obviously. I haven’t thought any further at all so just spitballing here but kirishima sven todoroki Elsa (obviously) aaaaand idk for hans. I feel like shindo yo would be the popular pick for a fake love interest?

5. Bakugou singing Granger Danger from a very potter musical.

6. Okay this is actually kiribaku but you by dodie, bkdk were fwb but deku caught feelings & bakugou starts dating kirishima

7. Atalanta (Greek myth) au — bk was raised by wolves/bears/dragons probably, then gets hunted by a king (mitsuki) who recognises him as his (her) son and takes him back to be prince. Tells him he has to get married, he says okay but Only someone who can beat me in a fight (in the myth it’s a foot race) and if they lose they die. Deku gets help from all might and wins (in the myth aphrodite gives the winner golden apples which distract atalanta, not sure how this would play out in this ver)

8. Howl’s Moving Castle au (book ver). Controversially, I have deku as howl, katsuki as Sophie & sentient OFA as calcifer. I can and Will back this up. (Kaminari as Martha/youngest sister who wants to marry rich and be a mom) & Uraraka as Lettie (middle sister who wants to be rich off her own hard work) (I actually have the whole cast planned out)

9. I’m currently writing a Carrie au. Deku is Carrie obvs. Katsuki is both Sue and Tommy, w Kiri coming in for some of Tommy’s advice giving moments. Decided Toga can be Chris and originally I had aged down!Dabi as Billy at a friend’s request but not 100% sure. Considered switching to mustard but like. We know nothing about him.

10. Barely fleshed out but I’ve seen a bunch of parallel universe swapping quirk fics where fantasy!bkdk or future!bkdk get swapped to the canon verse, including at least one w pregnant izuku and. Pregnant katsuki gets swapped to the canon verse because I think it’s WAY funnier

Okay I’m done now sorry

These were A LOT and as a uni student I don't have the time to do all/organise all in one post (but I will draw if more people insist on the asks (please submit your ideas separetly, it's a lot easier for my little pea brain)

BUT, i will give my piece about the songs, since I included them in my BKDK playlist

2. She's in Love - I see it as bkdk friends talking about Deku's (Ariel) clear crush while an oblivious Bakugou (Flounder) has barely been able to tell Izuku is in love and it's annoyed about it because he thinks it's not him (it is tho)

3. Say the Word - This is such a Katsuki-coded song about his feelings, it actually hurts me inside

4. Fixer Upper - Submitter's suggestion is good, BUT HAVE YOU CONSIDERED: Fantasy AU BKDK, where Kiri is the weredragon and Shouto is a prince and I would suggest Toga Himiko (my daughter) for Hans (would change some more of the story tbh, but that's the OG plan)

5. Granger Danger - COUNTERPOINT: Fem!BKDK in a ball, bkg is Draco, dk is Ron and they're talking about each other

6. What if She from Dodie but it's Izuku's POV cause he is enamoured by Katsuki buthas no clue what the other feels

Anyway, feel free to send more asks now !! I'll promise I'll get back to them, I just took a long break because of personal shit, but I'm back stronger than ever

[synonymroll648]

anyway. aro aunt story?

so!! i have this aunt that is, in my heart, my crazy aunt. specifically, my crazy fish aunt. she literally moved out of the house she'd been renting for 15 years because the owners were like mmmmmmm more than 7 big ass fish tanks is too much for us to be ok w/. and she went 'oh yeah? you wanna piss off probably your only consistent renter you've ever and will ever had? let's fucking GO, bitch' and moved out into a house that was honestly a downgrade in quality BUT because she bought it she gets to put as many fish tanks as she wants in there. when she was planning out where furniture would go, literally the first thing she figured out was where to put current and future tanks. as far as i know of, she has 9 big tanks and then 5 small tanks inside a few of the big tanks (containing baby fish). also they're all freshwater fish

ANYWAY. the fish part is actually irrelevant to the story. (i just like telling people about my aunt and fish.) what the story is actually about is her friendship with one of her many friends named- we'll go with jake - jake, but this jake is like. THE jake. the ultimate jake. and they've been besties literally since before i was born. and i remember being like 8 years old and i was like hey fish aunt. why aren't you and jake dating. you act all coupley but you say you're just friends. and fish aunt was like. we've been friends for thirteen years - if him and i were made to be romantic, i would've liked him like that by now. but i haven't. and so i went. ok then. fish aunt and jake are just best friend goals. sick! and moved on.

earlier this summer, my grandpa calls my mom while we're driving down to the river. it's just me and her in the car. and he's like. fish aunt just told me that she got a new boyfriend, and that this time, i'll actually approve of the guy. because i know the guy. and it's the ultimate jake. and so my mom and i are like :O because at this point it'd been literally almost 20 years of Very Platonic Besties. my mom was like 'it's about damn time!' because she's been nagging fish aunt to date this guy for literally forever since he's like. Quality Boyfriend Material. and so they dated for a while, and things didn't seem that different to me? but i figured that was just because they were toning it down since there were kids around and we were at an amusement park when i saw them together while they were dating.

now. i was at dinner w/ my grandpa tonight. and he made some offhand comment about joking around about some guy fish aunt went fishing w/ being a new flame, and my brain kinda stopped and went. wait a minute. either my aunt is polyamorous or she dropped jake, and i absolutely cannot see conservative grandpa being chill w/ polyamory. did they. did they break up?? and mom brought up what i was thinking and grandpa went. oh yeah they broke up a bit ago. fish aunt said they tried things out, but nothing changed when they started dating, so they broke up. they're still really good friends though. and then he moved on

idk if she's actually aro-spec or not, but either way, her relationship w/ romance is weird and she's been owning the single-and-satisfied lifestyle for years now. hearing about her go from "ohhhhh no we're just friends who don't care about male-female friendship 'standards'" to "ohhhhh we're giving it a shot, because if anyone's the guy, it's jake" to "ohhhhh yeah we tried but nothing changed from before, and we broke up but we're still close" as a lovequeer aro is like. miss, i only see you a handful of times per year but you are such an inspiration sometimes

[confusedgoldenflower]

So I have an au FengQing fic in which FQ take HC’s wager and lose, becoming humans (bc they’re honorable unlike those other fucks). I’ve been trying to update (yes, I know I have like nine wips, I AM trying), but that’s not the point.

The point is that my stupid ass brain has fed me yet another crack idea: [besides them going to war, FX beheading a XZ imposter, MQ mocking beyond all reason a Ju Yang imposter, one of MQ’s adopted kids and ex-official ascending during this time, FX not beating the cut sleeve accusations (MQ does not openly drool like he does lmao, it’d be funny, esp since he’d finally not be pretending to hate MQ and actually acknowledge him in all his glory), the two having mwah👌🏻 teamwork, the Chinese-shogun’s (correct later, self) sons deaths bc they’re assholes and power hungry—just after FX thinks aloud to MQ if he shouldn’t just take over that estate if all the sons die and a lil tussle about it, so they take it over upon their return and MQ the Ex-Again-Lower Class changes life for his villagers. Oh and he’s visited by the new general of the south a few times. He pointedly makes her first shrine in the exact spot she ascended bc his autistic ass is that flavor of sentimental (someone else did a good read on MQ being autistic. He is in my fics, no like then scroll).]

—Is FX getting cursed (probably after pissing them off) by some wrath to… be a woman. Of course she’s mortified. Absolutely mortified. MQ can’t do anything, with all his cultivation power and research. Southern General can’t either. MQ offers asking PM (or heaven) for help but FX puts that idea in the grave. So, she’s stuck. But Feng I’ve Always Wanted A Big Family Xin warms up to the idea. Naturally, MQ will NOT break his cultivation nor would FX try to cross the clear boundaries and his promise that he’d never need sex from MQ, but MQ had an uncle (the baby brother of Momma Mu) and a descendant shows up, the spitting image of MQ (we’ve all seen “I’m my great great relatives reincarnation” images). That’s all Momma’s Mu’s genes running strong. Bc of what her husband turned out to be (despite the parents having accepted the suiter and had the option to take her and MQ w them), her “side” wasn’t spoken of highly nor a lot.

MQ and FX have talked about this, as long as FX doesn’t bring home a disease, she’s free to fuck whoever she wants—preferably with subtly. She and cousin man hit it off. Blah blah blah, this is getting too long, anyway he hangs around. Inevitably, pregnancy happens. FX is tickled pink bc yay family and MQ is the anxiety-induced dotting-est “husband” ever (ignoring that FX never thought she wouldn’t be in his position). Cousin man went to idk do a thing and comes back, arguements and discussions are had. MQ gets yelled at for affectively banishing cousin man (MQ is the bbs’ Baba). MQ demands why not since he’s not being trustworthy (given what MQ’s dad was, he’s got high standards). FX admits it’s because she wants her kids to look like him—be a mix of them, the cottage core coupling dream. MQ, not for the first time, questions the allos.

Idk, my brain may have taken “FX is an ornery himbo” and sprinted.

FQ: *argueing over battle strategies* MQ, a man with a special interest of fighting: shut up and listen to someone with more know-how than you. Good boy. FX: … okay… 😳😳😳 Lmaoooo

FX: paint my eyebrows! MQ, a dumbass when it comes to FX: ???? You have too much eyebrow already tho. FX, who just wanted the lovey-dovey stuff: >:0

FX: what’s that look for? MQ: nothing. I don’t have a look. FX: don’t bullshit me! MQ: fine. It’s just… how funny would it be if we made it a rule that any probable suiters for our daughters had to be pure virgins too. FX: … that’s gonna piss so many people off, I love it

New idea that’s too cute not to share: FX walking into the kitchen for some water, and after an unexpected bathroom break courtesy of changed body, early in the morning to find MQ cleaning up some new street kids he’d somehow collected over night. MQ: … 👀 Kids: *frozen* FX, sighing: it’s too early for this. Whatever, I’m going back to bed. MQ, nuzzling the face of the kid he was currently scrubbing: yay🥰

Edit/Addition

Postpartum FX being held back by MQ from absolutely laying a dick out for insulting newborn

Nursing/pregnant FX holding MQ back from walking into the woods towards a baby-sounding man eating monster. (It's funny because FX should be full of mommy instinct. I headsannon MQ as being the Universal Parent TM because it's cute and also funny)

Fighting would be a family affair lmao.

FX: what are you doing!? You can’t just go beating people

Child, who was taught by the best and of course was kicking ass: A-Niang, they. Insulted. Baba.

FX, sliding up her sleeves: oh so they think they can do that, hah!?

MQ, coming to stop a battle of bloodlines: WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?

FX, waving around the daughter: they insulted you to her! To our BABY, they insulted you. You don’t slander a child’s parent to the child! She defended your honor. Obviously, I thought she might have been doing too much to them but then she told me what happened.

MQ, constantly on the verge of a mental breakdown with FX now: I’ve asked you so many times not to get into fights

FX: our family sticks together. Not our fault they brought in their entire household—like cowards

Other kids and their neighbors they adopted: *nodding as they glare at the offending family*

Child: they know better now than to say you’re anything but good, Baba!

[izukunii]

FAST RIPE, FAST ROTTEN

feat: aged up!bakugou katsuki x reader

contains: in media res, bkg is left handed, reader is right handed (for the sake of the plot), reader has “hooded eyes,” reader is also a hero at bkg’s agency, bkg is the number one hero!

summary: things you could have said, things he should have said

warnings: mdni - depictions of sex, angst with no comfort, idealizations of degradation (bkg receiving)

they were in bed when it happened. when she’d said it. she was looking down at him through her hooded eyes, her vision surely blurred from smudged mascara, looking at him like he was nothing but a sex tool for her to get off with. his favorite look.

she’d been fucking him: the default position as of late. feet planted flat on either side of his hips and palms pushing against his chest for leverage. 

he had been counting down from 100 in increments of seven, a trick he’d picked up from kaminari that he’d play whenever he didn’t want to bust too quick. kaminari’s magic number was actually nine, but bakugou had found himself using this strategy more often than not when it came to her because he had the mathematics of nine memorized by now

he had left off on 44 when she’d stopped her gyrations mid-”air,” and brought herself down to sit on his cock. 

“bakugou.” 

his hands slipped off her hips. their sweat made him lose his grip. “hah?”

“bakugou,” she repeated. “why do you keep me around?”

his eyes flew open. he hadn’t realized how close she was to him, how her nose brushed lightly across his own, and how he hadn’t felt her warm breath breezing over his cheeks. 

“w-why do i– what? you’re not making any sense, woman.” 

bakugou found his purchase on her hips again. he tried to lift her off him to no avail. her grip on his dick felt too good to move her, and even if he was the number one hero, he was only a man.

“why–” she rocked forward, inhaling harshly “do you keep me around?” 

he squinted up at her. the whole situation was incredulous. here was his maker, the love of his life, asking why he kept her around. his stubborn bastard brain couldn’t take it!

you pack three onigiri extra in your bento every day because you know the seven i pack is never enough, that i always get hungry a couple hours after my meal break, and if i don’t eat again i’m grumpier than usual. 

you know better than anyone that tardiness makes me grumpier than usual too. you’re the one who sends out the calendar reminders for paperwork and audit, i know you are. you’re the one who reserves the conference rooms and you’re not even my sidekick. you’re not my assistant either. you’re you!

you change your costume for the weather just like me, and i like to think it’s a mirror behavior, even if it’s just subconscious on your part. even your supports change based on the weather. it’s adorable.

you sing louder when you’re feeling bright, but you’re always humming. you prefer tuna onigiri. spicy. and i like to think you’ve acquired a taste for it on my behalf, even though i know better. you told me that’s how your grandmother always made it. 

you hate being warm, so you don’t like soup. you take all your coffee based drinks over ice, and the only exception to the rule is tea. you think tea solves everything. i’ll never have the heart to disagree. you always make but one extra cup when you brew it at the office, and even earlier tonight, you did the same. the extra cup is always coincidentally made just the way i like it. it’s always set on the right corner of the desk, and you always seem to make chamomile tea in the late afternoon, when i’m doing paperwork and that “ugly” crease forms between my eyebrows from the stress. the chamomile soothes, but the only sooth to the crease is the tender and gentle pressure of your thumb across my forehead. 

you still tell me i’m a pretty boy. i could be covered in blood, sweat, and soot, and i’m still your pretty boy. you tell it to me then. you tell it to me now, as i lay before you at my most vulnerable, and you’ll tell me tomorrow morning when you slip out of my arms and back to the reality where this isn’t real. not to you.

that’s why.

“you’re a good fuck.” his voice breaks. 

she doesn’t notice. “wanna know why i let you keep me around, bakugou?” 

you tell me i’m a pretty girl. when i’m huffing and puffing, running my ass off on damage control duty. when i’ve gotten no sleep, no thanks to you or to myself, i’m still your pretty girl. you tell it to me then, and you tell it to me now as i pretend to use you at your most vulnerable, and you’ll tell it to me tomorrow morning when i flee from my feelings. 

you’re always so warm. and for the first time in my life, i want to be warm if it means staying in your arms. 

you keep the office at 59 fahrenheit just for me, even if everyone on our floors whines about it all day long. your excuses are pathetic. 

you like all your drinks piping hot, hot enough to burn, but if they don’t make it there in time, you try to rescue them on ice. it’s not the same, and when you run out for another, i always find my order on the left side of my desk. you’ll never need to repay me for the three extra onigiri, but you always attempt to with the accompaniment of a brownie with the order. the drink is technically iced, but there’s not a cube to be found, for in the late afternoon while you complete paperwork, i take it upon myself to collect the forms from the staff. 

you’re more approachable than you think, all bark and no bite. 

no matter where you’re going, you ask if i need something. your fill my car with gas if it meant being in my service. i don’t deserve that. but i want it. i want you. i need you! i can’t live without you, i can’t breathe without you!

taped along the top of my monitors are trinkets and trifles you’ve bought me from your away missions. you listen to me. i’m a collector. 

time’s up, i’m here to collect what’s mine.

“s’cause you’re not so bad yourself.”

[mojaves]

😭🍧🌋🕷🙈🙉🔪🎵 for caleb >:33 also HAIII i hope you're havign a great day!!!! <33

HIIII THANK YOUUU!!! HOPE YOURE HAVING A GREAT DAY TOO :D

😭 CRYING - what makes them cry? do they cry easily?

he does Not. he needs to though. Badly. it would fix him,,, he isn't necessarily emotionally constipated but my god. dude. PLEASE talk about your feelings. just once. Please. that being said though the one thing that would absolutely break him + make him cry for the first time in YEARS is seeing someone he cares about deeply get hurt in one way or another. he Will be insane and he Will be inconsolable about it.

🍧 SHAVED ICE - do they still have any objects from their childhood? what significance does it have to them? what would their reaction be if they lost it?

he still has some paints and paintbrushes that his granpda got for him,, he doesnt use them anymore bc theyre no longer available,, and he does NOT!!! want to throw them away. ever. they remind him so much of all the time he spent w his grandpa going on fun little roadtrips as a kid so they could draw together. if he lost those?? well honestly him wanting to just throw himself off a bridge wouldnt even be an exaggeration. that would be the END for him. he CANNOT!!! lose them. it's all he has left to remember his grandpa by.

🌋 VOLCANO - how bad is their temper? is it a slow boil, or a instant explosion?

oooghhfjh now this is a good one bc it entirely depends on who he is with. 0 tolerance policy for anyone he used to work with at kang tago/biotechnica. if you pissed him off even a little bit youre going to hear about it. immediately. it's not even that he's losing his shit or anything or even an especially explosive temper. he just wants to shut you down then and there. and then never have to deal with it ever again. doesnt raise his voice or anything, just very calmly explains to you everything you are doing that is making him want to kill you with his own two hands. he sounds so relaxed but you can see how angry he is in his eyes. which i am Obsessed with. honestly. if he starts walking closer to you while being like that. start running/ [important sidenote he would never be like that w anyone he is close to. btw. he CAN explain things that are bothering him. like a normal person]

🕷️ SPIDER - what is their biggest fear? do they have any irrational / mundane fears?

HMMM,, bc of his job most fears wouldve been ripped away from him at this point bc of how dangerous many missions were, and he wouldnt have gotten Anywhere if he was a shivering little beast the whole time. HOWEVER!! he has never fully gotten over his fear of heights. like he can be normal about it i guess?? but oohh trying to hide how terrified he is is SO exhausting he'd rather die. also very VERY scared of losing everyone he loves and has ever loved. but thats nothing to worry about at all ever. of course. [he needs therapy]

🙈 SEE-NO-EVIL - whats a side of your oc that they don't want to show other people?

that he is actually very vulnerable and soft and mostly just. Sad. but he doesnt want people thinking he's weak,, he just wants someone to hold him. he wants to be shown love again. even if it's just for a moment. but he never lets anyone get close enough to be able to see that, in case they end up using it against him. he has So many barriers up but theyre So flimsy. they can be broken down so easily. but no one has ever tried,, Yet.

🙉 HEAR-NO-EVIL - what is the worse thing your oc could hear from someone?

honestly theyre is not much that can be said to him that will cause enough emotional damage to break him, other than like, hearing someone he was close to got injured/died. he's heard it all countless times over the years. but if i HAD to think of something,, probably someone calling him a coward. that would change something in his brain for the rest of forever, to the point where he will be hellbent on trying to prove that he is NOT!!!!!! a coward. life is so difficult. his job is terrifying. he doesnt know when a job is going to end in him getting killed, or worse. and to call him a coward would be overlooking all of that, all of the effort that it took for him to get where he is now. and he would HATE it. so much.

🔪 KNIFE - how do they react to injury / misfortune befalling their loved ones (significant other, family, friends)? do they put themselves at blame?

luckily enough he knows not to blame himself for things that are entirely out of his control - i.e. someone getting injured on a job when he's not there. obviously it's not his fault, he wasnt there to change anything. people get injured sometimes. it's just a part of life. he's not going to waste time carrying the weight of it all on his shoulders, he's gonna shut up and HELP. patch them up. do some stitches if necessary. get an ice pack. his brain kind of disconnects a bit, ESPECIALLY if it's a loved one, bc otherwise he would not get anything done. he would be too busy shaking and crying. he Has to get all the important stuff done first [stopping bleeding, cleaning them up, whatever], and THEN!! he can have an insane screaming crying throwing up moment. bc they are always the priority, not him. he needs to focus on their needs before he can focus on himself.

🎵 MUSIC NOTE - what is their playlist like? their favourite artists? do you associate a particular song with them?

now this is going to take so long. so many weeks or months even to answer bc i do not yet have a playlist for him WJHJHDSFFGS but trust me. trust me when i say the Second i have some sort of playlist going for him. im going to be SO annoying about it. even more so w the kind of music i think he'd listen to. bc that is very important to me and i can never be normal about it.

[jinkicake]

SGDHHD no yehs when I saw Barbatos I was like hehe funny that a god is named after a demon but Venti is literally gluten free catholic like,,, ngl forgot Germany and all of Europe was😭 like someone was saying something weird and SOMEONE REPLIED W A CLOSE UP OF BARBRA AND SHE HAS CROSSES ALL IVER HER AND INSIDE THE CATHEDRAL 💀💀IN GAME LORE BARBATOS HAS NOTHING TO DO W CROSSES😭😭 hoyoverse let me write for this game bc all the plot holes piss me off. Like the entire Liyue arc was a waste of time actually like if we didn’t meet all my fav characters; ESPECIALLY XINYAN happy birthday sis😔💕 I would have Been mad. Bc Zhongli is so DUMB he literally throw not only his nation but all of teyvat into like a economic crisis bc he wanted a vacation 😐 he’s so lucky he’s got bc I was mad asf when I finished it. Bro you did ALL THAT when you could have just said lmao y’all I’m out like Venti did… you caused everyone so much trouble AND DIDNT HELP… if I punch a god is that a ticket straight to hell??? Bc Venti is the best archon out of the strongest 3 and probably all 7! Bc he helped w storm terror like he didn’t rly abandon his people bc they still worship him and think highly of him- even people outside of mondstat for the wind gliders- like no way is the green drunk twink the most responsible…. Im sick of the “ sorry I can’t say I have a contract” stuff too bc if you have the traveler a Glock the game would be 20 mins. Of my boy got his villian arc they would speak up then😤 like he has to run errands for people with nobody really helping to find his twin and dainsleif fine ass jumped into the abyss so we don’t see him no more, and Venti says so much while saying s o little☺️🔪 will talk for 30 mins and you still have no information like if he can’t tell us what’s wrong then tell me who’s holding y’all hostage so I can go beat them up!! Like pls is Venti knows every song past present and future( which I love that timelines ms tuff he shared w obey me barbatos and they’re both green) he definitely knows some important stuff that will help us change fate🙂( Also sorry for brain rot I have SO much to say about these parasites taking up space in my brain)

brain rot is the only thing that gets me through my week LOL i love reading it

VENTI... A GLUTEN FREE CATHOLIC?! PLEASEEEE honestly, i find out new things every day with your brain rots bc as much as i try to be a lore player i read all the dialogue and then forget it the second i finish a quest sigh.... no amount of youtube explanation videos can keep me updated

NO BC I HAVE SOME CHOICE WORDS W ZHONGLI and honestly, its only bc i was pissed he would always make me pay!!!! but i wasnt all that mad bc then childe would give me money #hearteyes ... i get zhongli wanted a break and he so deserved it but i did side eye him at the fake death hes so dramatic..... i love it

venti is the strongest of the three I AGREE..... but i have to say i just know Tsaritsa is going to be the baddest bitch and i am so excited bc shes going to be everything to me like i dont know what she is doing or what she is plotting but ill be on her side through it all!

oh speaking of drunk venti.... i know they make him so soft but I love seeing fanart of him during the catalyst like unhinged venti might have to be my favorite.... even if i do fall asleep during his dialogues im sorry that he talks and talks and talks... his voice is cute tho!

the connections between both barbatos..... theres something there but my brain cant connect the dots.... obey me seven sins equals seven archons confirmed, the end.... but add barbatos take out BEEL >:-)

[itsjaywalkers]

hello laurie!! <3 insane commute nonnie here (again) omg i read oby yesterday omw to class (ended up staying at my friend's again bc his roommate was still out. sadly he's back) and i should not have done that bc OMG?? BABE I WAS LITERALLY THINKING ABT THEM THE WHOLE TIME UT GOT SO BAD I SAW MY PROFESSOR (he doesn't even look like james. he's just fit in a 'Hear me out guys...' way)N BLUSHED I WAS ACTUALLY GIGGLING AT RANDOM TIMES THINKING ABT THEM also like. sirius n regulus in this😭😭 regulus cursing sirius out for being a good brother is so real to me as someone with 12 year older brother bc he spent my entire childhood terrorizing me n now he's the sweetest person Ever. not even in an evil way he's just genuinely nice to me so if i ever complain abt him everyone goes ??? YOUR brother??? its so annoying (i love him). just reg veing grumpy<3 he's my fav little purse man and ok oh god never thought i'd say this. i have NEVER gotten the whole daddy thing but now im just🧍‍♂️bc i need to call james potter daddy while he fucks me what who said that also like. extreme apologies for how extremely inappropriate this might've gotten i was up all night studying for a quiz we have today (cannot catch a break w these ppl istg) n i swear my brain refuses to function and i have no idea!!! (please pray for me) also i hope you're doing great<3 sadly i do know work and adult things but im glad to know that nothing bad's going on!! you deserve the best<33 also i Absolutely get being funnier in your mother tongue sometimes i have these sudden thoughts n they're soo funny but i have to translate them which is like. okay but the vibes change istg!! i usually end texting my siblings abt it bc someone deserves to know how absolutely funny i am!! (all i do is make dad jokes) and (im actually so sorry bc ik you prob dont mind the book-long asks but its still!! so embarrassing!! like girl why are you yapping sm!!) i haven't read the 2nd part yet (i read the first part n just stared ahead blankly for like an hour after i read the 1st part. it did things to me) but im gonna read it after my quiz as a little treat<3 thank you for writing them sm!!!<3

HI BABE <333 sorry it took me so long to get back to u, life has been soooo hectic istg

AND OMG IM STILL SO SHY ABOUT U READING OBY but i'm so glad u enjoyed it and that it had the desired effect, it's definitely not the type of story u should read in class or just like . in front of ppl . i don't blame u for getting all flustered around ur professor even if he doesn't look anything like james. it's just the vibe yk??? you're literally so real for that

sirius and reg in oby are !! so important to me !! i feel like they have the best relationship in all of my fics, bc they're on good terms on nothing happens too but they argue . a lot . and they're gonna have some issues down the line. and they're also very close in the boxer au but there's still gonna be a lot of angst regarding their relationship. in oby, tho, they're just brothers <3 they love each other so much <3 and i'm so glad i'm portraying their dynamic accurately bc a lot of their convos are based on stuff me and my sisters have talked/fought about lmao

LISTENNNN I ALSO WASN'T INTO THE WHOLE DADDY THING like i didn't mind it and i read it occassionally but i didn't seek it out. but now that i'm actively writing it . well . i guess i kinda get the appeal (girl who doesn't even have a daddy kink) SO I GET U I REALLY DO

u don't have to apologiseeee i'm always happy to open horny hours especially if it's for james potter <3 and also i know it's been a few days but i hope the quiz went well and that u never do that again bc u need to rest!! i mean it!!

i'm doing quite well actually!! work's been a nightmare but apart from that i'm great!! i recently moved into a new flat with two friends and the place is soooo nice i'm in love with it i can't believe it's ours <333 AND SAMEEEE i always complain about it to my sisters or my spanish friends bc it annoys me to no end like . i'm literally soooo funny and it pains me that you'll never realise bc it's only when i speak in my first language ugh

I REALLY DON'T MIND THEM BABE IN FACT I LOVE THEM NEVER STOP and don't apologise again i'll kick ur ass!!! and god you're so very sweet to me, i hope u enjoyed/enjoy it and i'm sending u the biggest hug + forehead kissie in the world MWAH <3

[casspurrjoybell-29]

Forgotten Ties - Chapter 7 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

After that, the man had escorted Skye back to his classroom and told his teacher about the detention.

She actually didn't seem too angry at Skye about it.

He showed her the red spot on his stomach and she told him to keep his clothes on but Skye was pretty sure she sympathised.

The teacher stood up in front of the class and wrote on the board about days of the week and asked questions about what day came before or after another day.

It went on for far too long and Skye didn't care, so he learnt nothing.

He borrowed some of Ethan's pencils and held them between his fingers, which was sort of like bear claws.

Bears didn't know about days of the week.

By the time their next break came around, Skye was more than ready to eat.

He headed over to the cafeteria with Ethan.

He'd barely gotten inside the doors when someone grabbed him by the arm but when he spun around, he found himself face to face with Nim.

"Oh. Hi, Nim."

"You know, I was just starting to think that you weren't so stupid after all but then you went and got yourself detention with the guy who punched you," Nim said, still gripping Skye firmly by his arm.

"Well, it's not fair if I'm the only one who gets in trouble," Skye said.

"What he did was worse than what I did."

"Nothing's fair here, Skye," Nim all but shouted, finally letting go of Skye's arm.

"You can't expect it to be, so forget about that. All you can do is try to stay safe and out of trouble and getting shut in a room with someone who has it out for you doesn't help with that."

Skye folded his arms across his chest.

"I can take care of myself, you know. I'm not a baby. I know you don't understand me because nobody ever does and that's fine but if I was actually just dumb, don't you think I'd be dead by now?"

"Maybe you're lying about being as old as you are."

"Maybe you could show that you care about me in less angry ways."

The expression shifted on Nim's face and after a moment he sighed and looked away.

"Well, it'll be what it is. Nothing we can do to change things now. Let's just go eat our lunch."

As they headed over to an empty table, Ethan gave Skye a comforting pat on his arm.

It went on much longer than any arm pat Skye had ever experienced but that just made it extra comforting.

Ethan was a good friend.

"He came and found me when you were in trouble, you know," Nim told Skye as they sat down.

"I guess he can't talk but he got his point across well enough."

"Yeah, Ethan's really good at not being able to say words," Skye said.

"Sometimes I wish I couldn't talk."

"You could just... not talk?"

Skye chewed and swallowed a grape.

"It's just not the same."

"If you say so," Nim said.

"Anyway, I guess I'll stay after school until your detention is done because it's not like you can get home on your own. Just try to stay safe, okay? If something happens, I can't defend you. If I lay one hand on that human, I'm going to prison and at this point I'm not sure that doesn't actually just mean a bullet in my brain."

"I can take care of myself but if you want to help, you can give me one of the boiled eggs from your lunch box," Skye said.

"How will that help?"

"Well, I want it, so if I have it I will be happier as a person."

Nim rolled his eyes and handed Skye one of the eggs.

"Your logic tracks in strange ways, you know."

"I do know but I like it that way, so I'm not going to stop."

"That's fair. Enjoy the egg."

After the break was over, it was back to class for more boring lessons.

He thought maybe the one on emotions would be interesting because he had those but after the second time he'd shouted out 'hungry' when the teacher asked how a situation would make them feel, she'd told him he was wrong.

After that, he'd folded his arms over his chest and refused to participate any more.

He felt annoyed and maybe a little hungry.

Once class was over for the day, it was time for his detention.

Fortunately, Nim was waiting for him outside the classroom because he didn't know where to go.

"No matter what, just don't lay a hand on him," Nim said.

"I know it's not fair and he deserves a good ass kicking but it's not worth it."

"Okay," Skye said, holding his backpack by its straps and swinging it back and forth as they walked.

He didn't have heavy books in it like Nim did in his.

Nim sighed.

"I sound like my mum but she was right. Until she wasn't, anyway."

"I'll be okay."

"I hope so because you're on your own. I'll wait for you outside the building where I won't be able to hear anything. If something does happen, I don't want to be in the position to have to make a choice."

"I'm starting to feel insulted. I'm like five billion years old. I can take care of myself."

"You are not. Five hundred, tops. Probably not even close to that."

"Big numbers. It's all the same to me. I'll show you that I can take care of myself. I'll show you that hunger is a valid emotion."

"I... okay?" Nim said, stopping in front of the door to a classroom.

"Anyway, we're here."

"Okay, thanks," Skye said and walked inside without wasting any time.

"Bye?" he heard Nim say from the doorway.

Skye gave him a wave and Nim walked away.

The woman who had given Skye the test when he'd first arrived at school that morning was sitting behind the big desk at the front of the room.

"Sit," the woman said, pointing to one of the small desks.

"I predicted this, didn't I?" Skye sat at the desk she'd pointed to.

"Yeah but it turns out that you can get in trouble for just not letting someone punch you, so I don't think this is actually my fault. Just an unfair rule."

The woman considered him for a moment.

"Well, life's not fair, is it?"

"That's a very bad excuse for having unfair rules."

"You're very direct, aren't you?"

Skye shrugged.

"I'm trying to be easy to understand."

The door swung open and the boy who had punched Skye stomped in.

Skye waved and received a glower in return.

The woman got up from behind the desk.

"I left something in the office. I'll be back in about... ten minutes?"

The boy's frown morphed into a smile and he nodded as he sat down.

"We'll be good."

[borom1r]

feel free to pick whichever ones you want (I hope you did want asks to begin with hfjdnsbbd!!) but: 2, 3, 5, 7, 8, & 16 from the OTP asks for wrightworth/narumitsu? :3c OR maybe franmaya if you'd like!!

YES!!! IM DOING BOTH OF THEM BC I CAN.

anyways Wrightworth my beloveds!!!

2) What would they do if the other woke in a manic state after a nightmare?

hrrrgh. mrrmph. ohhh this is such a can of worms bestie!!! i am answering this one last for like, context, bc omfg!! like. thru the spectrum of their relationship it absolutely changes bc early on Miles 100% refuses to spend the night with Phoenix bc he Cannot let Nick see him break down. and its like. ok yea the nightmares about him killing his father stopped, but HES SO FUCKED UP!!!! it is not a stretch of the imagination to say that new nightmares took their place.

nightmares about Nick dying (trying to run across a burning bridge or Manfred or Gant pulling strings to get revenge even from behind bars, etc). nightmares about Maya dying bc he wasn't good enough as a prosecutor (couldn't drag out the Engarde trial long enough, or she starved to death, or he was TOO GOOD and Engarde was declared guilty early). nightmares about him returning from "choosing death" to the Worst Case Scenario. nightmares about Gregory denouncing him, bc maybe he didn't pull the trigger but he decimated Gregory's memory and everything he stood for (even if it was all bc of Manfred's manipulation).

and like he told Phoenix the nightmares stopped. so that has to be the truth, full stop. he can't admit to the half-truth. so it turns into this festering little pit that winds up with Miles shaking in Phoenix's arms while Phoenix patiently unlocks the Psychelocks hiding Miles' secret. and yea it's a weight off his chest but Miles still half expects the worst because he's not Over It, he's not Perfect, and this is one of those times where it still comes as a shock that Nick doesn't expect or demand perfect. I think Miles gets surprisingly clingy when he's upset, and Nick, koala of a man that he is, is more than willing to accommodate.

I think neither of them would be particularly inclined to discuss whatever was in a nightmare that upset them, least of all immediately after (and Miles would absolutely be the one who'd ask Phoenix about it the next morning— Phoenix would lean towards letting Miles come to him when he's ready vs outright asking), and sometimes Miles needs to get up and Move for a bit, whether that's pacing or making tea or reading for a little bit. Phoenix can generally just crash again once he's satisfied himself that Miles is Safe, but Miles needs to redirect his brain most of the time.

it's definitely a pleasant surprise when Phoenix joins him the first time. just kinda sleep-mumbles something about the bed being cold without Miles anyways and watches Miles work off his anxious energy by pacing, or joins him for a cup of tea, or joins Miles on the couch n rests his legs on Miles' lap while he reads bc he knows Miles likes the pressure.

(sidenote but i do think Franziska and Phoenix get to be pretty close? definitely a lot of affectionate jabbing bc they ARE dating each other's little siblings. where I'm going with this is that sometimes, after a Bad Maya-centric nightmare, Nick will text Franziska a quick "Maya's good?" and she'll usually just text back "Y" because it's 2 am and she wants to go back to sleep, and Nick's ancient phone can't display emojis— but she never calls him a fool for it. he appreciates it a lot. she denies anything if he ever tries to thank her in person)

3) Do they wear the other’s clothes? (sweatshirt, bandana, necklace, etc.)

in court: dear gods no. can u IMAGINE? Miles would DIE. Phoenix would love it tho lmfao

at home: 100% yes! i think it actually starts with Miles stealing Phoenix's clothes bc like Miles is a man w/ a matching pajama set. its not so much that he doesnt have comfortable clothes but that there's nothing Phoenix would really feel comfortable borrowing at first (all of Miles' wardrobe is expeeeeensiiiiiiive). it does eventually get to the point tho where the origin of certain clothing items becomes EXTREMELY debatable (Phoenix bought it?? maybe?? but Miles wears it the most. but Phoenix wore it out last so like Maya DEFINITELY saw him in it but it's kind of Miles' shirt, BUT-)

5) Describe their cozy night in.

they r curled up on the couch together parallel playing. Miles is watching Steel Samurai with a glass of wine while Phoenix plays Pokemon on Trucy's old DS bc she got him hooked, and he's got his head on Miles' shoulder and sometimes he'll look up when he feels Miles' arm get tighter around him bc he knows it must be a really important scene— or Miles will look down when he hears Phoenix start mashing buttons bc it must be a really intense battle, etc. just basking in the comfort of shared space, unwinding together without any pressure or judgement

(side note: Phoenix HAS that DS bc Trucy insisted he take it after Franziska got her a 3DS as an upgrade— Miles may not initially have wanted to overstep with exorbitant gifts, but Franziska is here to be the Cool Aunt!! Trucy DESERVES to play the newest games and Franziska doesn't care what Phoenix has to say about her dropping $200+ on gifts for his daughter! she doesnt CARE about his protests she WILL spoil his daughter bc Trucy is Delightful and Phoenix is A Foolish Fool)

7) Would they build a pillow fort together just because?

hmmmm i think its more that Phoenix and Trucy would! not that Miles is opposed but i think a Wright-built pillow fort starts as a bit of a whirlwind and he's more inclined to get popcorn/hot cocoa/etc ready for them to enjoy once the fort is Finished than get in the middle of the chaos lol

8) What happens if one of them gets sick?

I would LIKE to believe they would take care of each other but in reality they would BOTH try to work through the pain until they're too sick to work. it's a constant battle of "I'm fine I can work!" "you are absolutely Not Fine" "but YOU would go to work if you were sick like me!" "maybe, but would you LET me?" and the cycle continues until somebody caves. the roles are absolutely interchangeable.

they do eventually get to the place where they are willing to take better care of themselves and accept the other person looking out for them in turn but for a while. disaster 20-something workaholics in pursuit of TRUTH.

16) Can they stay up all night just talking?

Of Course They Can. they try not to bc Lawyers Who Have To Do Lawyer Things The Next Day(tm) but there are definitely nights where they just lay in bed talking abt anything and everything bc it's just too nice. and they don't want to lose any time together by falling asleep. especially early on with that added weight of having almost lost each other ("Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chooses death" versus "EDGEY CHARTER A FUCKING JET BC NICK MIGHT DIE!!!!" which ily larry ilysm but that is not. oh that couldve been handled so much better. and yea granted Miles didnt grieve for a year but he's also still working thru SO MUCH can u imagine how devastating that phonecall mustve been. flying as fast as u can because if you don't make it in time you might never see the man who quite literally saved your life again? they are both so fucked up, peace and love)

Franmaya timeee!!

2) What would they do if the other woke in a manic state after a nightmare?

I think similarly to Nick, Maya leans more towards the physical comfort side of the spectrum— but she's also much more willing to talk. Franziska will usually put the lamp on and hold Maya while they work through the dream logically. Breaking down what parts are grounded in reality and what parts are complete nonsense, reminders that Maya is loved, that the people she cares about are safe, etc until she's ready to fall back asleep.

Franziska is very much a fight-response person though, so she generally needs to ground herself before she's open to any physical touch. I think she used to squeeze her arm hard enough to bruise, and then Maya offered "you can squeeze my hand!" but Franziska refuses because if she squeezed hard enough to seriously hurt Maya and didn't realize bc she was so out of it she could never forgive herself (or if Maya tried to touch her and she accidentally lashed out). Maya stumbles across a solution when she's dragging Nick to a collectibles shop and finds one of those stupid little stress toys where the eyes pop out when you squeeze it of the Evil Magistrate??? shes so excited. she brings it home and proudly displays it to Franziska like LOOK. squeeze this to ground yourself! and Franziska can't help but start snickering the first time she tries it because it is So Dumb. this rubber toy of a children's show character with googly eyes that pop out every time she squeezes it. is staring back at her while she tries not to break down. and Maya kinda ??? as she wakes up, and Franziska answers with "I can't believe how foolish I'm being. squeezing a toy."

"You're not foolish."

"..This situation is foolish." and Franziska squeezes the toy again so the eyes pop out right at Maya, and Maya starts snickering too. and then they're both laughing, because yea, it Is kind of ridiculous, but they're both getting Better.

3) Do they wear the other’s clothes? (sweatshirt, bandana, necklace, etc.)

hmmmmm generally no? I think Franziska would borrow Maya's casual shirts for pajamas but that's about as far as it goes w/ her, and similarly to Nick n Miles, for a while Maya is just. Not Willing to borrow and potentially mess up her GF's Expensive Clothes.

the first time Maya lets Franziska style her wardrobe for some fancy event, she absolutely steals Franziska's breath away. her girlfriend is stunning? she's dating the most gorgeous woman in the world? hello?? Maya needs to dress up more. actually no scratch that Franziska would lose EVERY case she faced off against Nick n Maya on if Maya dressed formally for court.

5) Describe their cozy night in.

QUESTIONS!! honestly, Maya could listen to Franziska talk for HOURS and on nights when Franziska just wants to read and unwind her favorite thing is what she jokingly refers to as turnabout book club. has she read the book? no! will she bluff her way through analytical discussion questions so she can listen to Franziska break down different aspects of the story? yep! absolutely! Nick would be proud!

alternatively, if Franziska isn't feeling particularly sociable she'll suggest a Steel Samurai marathon because she can just rest her cheek on her hand and watch Maya excitedly explain the intricacies of Steel Samurai lore across all the different seasons and reboots and the significance of his redesigns and can you BELIEVE they changed (insert character Franziska only knows via Maya's infodumps here) in (insert whichever reboot here)????? No, darling, of course she can't, how foolishly foolish of them. please tell her more about depths of emotion in the Steel Samurai's expressionless masked face as he experiences the epic highs and lows of being the warrior of neo olde tokyo

7) Would they build a pillow fort together just because?

yea actually! it helps that Pearl and Trucy are over pretty regularly (coughgivesFranziskaagoodexcusecough) but even without the kids, like. Franziska became a prosecutor at thirteen. she had to EXCEED Manfred's expectations because let's be real, to merely MEET them was probably just as good as failure. she didn't get to be a kid. ever. and Maya is fully like, you know what? we're fixing that. you're never too old to have fun!! and sometimes fort-making devolves into pillow fighting or just dancing around to whatever music they put on, or giggling too much while they build it that the moment they try to crawl in it collapses around them. but the point is that it makes Franziska smile and makes them both happy bc really, they both went through so much SO young

8) What happens if one of them gets sick?

perhaps surprisingly, Franziska is much better abt this than Miles is bc she can't maintain her perfect record if she can't focus due to being ill, so she's fully willing to take a day or two off and rest to make sure it doesn't get worse. Maya will happily join her— Maya sits under freezing waterfalls regularly so I think she's got the immune system of the gods. she RARELY gets sick and whenever she does it passes quickly, so after a couple times Franziska gives up on arguing that she could get Maya sick bc no, no she won't.

16) Can they stay up all night just talking?

MAYA can. Franziska is not a night owl at all. she tries her best on nights when she doesn't have to go into work but she is much more of a morning person. Maya, again, goes through some incredibly intense training at very odd hours so she's just kind of full of energy whenever?? she's happiest when she gets to stay up late + sleep in late, but she's never like. GROUCHY if she has to wake up early! which is nice bc honestly Franziska would much rather sit outside sharing coffee and talking with Maya as they watch the sunrise.

[oozywoozycon]

okay so like shen yuan absolutely thinks of himself as a feminist or at least as not sexist bare minimum not misogynistic BUT he also thinks he’s a ‘very straight man with absolutely no feelings about gender no way i’m so cool and normal about all of these things as a normal man and everyone knows normal men like women and since i am both normal and a man obviously i do too what do you mean what is my definition of normal? normal is normal i’m normal no i’m so normal ask me anything i’ll be soooo normal about it’ and all that to say he’s delusional BUT

he’s well meaning mostly

but even looking past his protagonist/binghe blinders, his interpretations of female behavior are wildly sexist over half the time. ALSO I LOVE SY AND MOST OF HIS INTERPRETATIONS STAY IN HIS THOUGHTS AND IN THE END ARE MORE ABOUT HIS EXTREME INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA THAN THEY ARE ABOUT WOMEN BUT JUST BC THESE THOUGHTS ARE COMING FROM A PLACE OF SELF DENIAL DOES NOT MEAN THESE THOUGHTS DO NOT OCCUR

why am i having so many feelings ab this rn

i am too high and too tired to pull out text examples but just like the ways he interprets nyy’s behavior and also the way he thinks of almost every female character as ‘for binghe’, as his wives, as narrative side plot s and tbf he thinks of most things in this world as being created solely for binghe and also he’s a legendarily unreliable narrator even when it comes to his actual real thoughts but he struggles to conceptualize women as smth not secondary to a man

now this largely is likely to make up for the fact that sy is not actually attracted to women but wants to think he is so he plays these little mind games where he’s like well obviously i’m into women bc i can imagine a man and woman together and as a man that means i’m the man which means i like women even tho the woman in this scenario is actually him and he’s staring down this other man’s pecs okay i’m too tired to continue this man has so much to him and if i reread any of this i would likely disagree w myself, delete it all, and rewrite an oppositional argument where i would once again decide my minds changed after completing and so i will rewrite… etc etc (also source re: i’m straight i can imagine sex bt man and woman is me bc i’m gay and use to think bc i watched porn i had to like dick at least a little bc i would only ever watch porn where you could really only see the dick of the man and i did not examine further the fact that my preference was due to that meaning the woman was in more / most / all of the shot and the man nearly invisible / nothing but a dick and the focus was all on the woman. lmaooooooo i was like ‘yeah i’m just imagining myself as the woman!!!!!!! imagining her boobs and the way she feels and the sounds she makes and OBVIOUSLY IM TALKING AB MYSELF IN HER POSITION WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT’ anyways this memory just hit me so hard and that delusion just feels so quintessentially shen yuan to me that in my brain now that is also his process (tho prob his main defense is that meme of ‘i respect women so much i would never fuck one that’s how much respect i have’ but also this is absolutely one line of defense i’m so right)

jfc why are tumblrs paragraph breaks so large and inconsistent

glanced back and realized i never actually really got to my point that’s fine

[waitingformyfavoritesongs]

6:39 pmpdt 13 fe bru ar y 2023 Monday

(7:16 pmpdt Part 2)

6:40 pmpdt I have been rejected 🙅‍♀️ a lot all my life. It doesn’t take much to mess up a first impression. Sometimes my shyness & inadequacy if social skills & sometimes it was not being able to respond in a timely fashion to someone did it/annoyed? Triggered a bad response. I probably can blame that on my learning disability: left brain 🧠 working slower than the right, which is probably bcz I hit that side a lot more than the right side. 6:45 pmpdt for some reason I was rejected 🙅‍♀️ a lot. & I do blame myself. And b4 2017, I think it was then that I tried to catch on quicker & try to adapt to the idea 💡 of accepting rejection & to leave people alone who didn’t want me around. 6:48 pmpdt a girl knows when a man doesn’t want her. Although incubus sometimes made it harder to tell ≈2017??& last 5 years???? But it’s very clear now. Trying to gain clarity. Pain can do that. Make it easier when it feels like near death ☠️ experience & everything starts to look like a lie. 6:51 pmpdt I don’t anticipate that the world 🌎 will change. I think 🤔 they are too much about control. So much, that they don’t want anymore population growth & they like it when people prematurely die & suffer. I am thinking about assisted suicide. 6:53 pmpdt

6:57 pmpdt tattoos are no longer romantic to me. I think 🤔 they do it more for themselves. Something about a painful way to get a tan. Incubus said. 6:58 pmpdt tattoos lose romance when it’s ambiguous. & a lie. Lion 🦁. 6:59 pmpdt he probably heals supernaturally fast like Superman so I don’t think bleeding 🩸 is a problem for him. 7 pmpdt maybe 🤔 it’s not even made with needles?? Idk 🤷🏻‍♀️

7:16 pmpdt Thomas Jefferson (heifer = cow 🐮?) last year I opened up my breaking bread Bible (manga ish style illustrations white cover) my mom bought for me ≈2017/2018 bcz I was starting to read the Bible seriously (I only randomly opened it up very few times b4 then & read a few lines each time?) . She had the excuse that she didn’t want me becoming confused? Confused 🤷🏻‍♀️ it dead has a lot of explanations.last year I randomly opened it up (autocorrect said started deleting 7:22 pmpdt what are they deleting 🥺😭😖😭😱????) to Jeremiah & slavery & the sacrificial cow 🐮. I am year of ox 🐂. Which might also be called cow 🐮. I am also Aries ♈️ = ram 🐏/lamb (r= L sound Japanese 🇯🇵) my moms name has Abel in it. ... my name might be Jesus actual name. & transliteration of chavah w/Greek letter nu. Hosanna in the highest. Yeshua Nick name. I might be a sacrifice for the renewing of the covenant of god & a sign 🪧 that nothing is going to change. It will continue like b4. You will have to 4give people like garrido, Jaycee dugard’s kidnapper & rapist, bcz he does what god incubus wants him to do. 7:29 pmpdt

7:43 pmpdt how do I connect the dots to sacrificial cow 🐮 & Jeremiah? (😖😭 right heel pain 7:44 pmpdt) my (different) cousin & sis are leo ♌️ (satan/devil? is said to be a hungry lion 🦁 looking for someone to devour? Devil 👿 comes to steal, destroy & kill? Klove radio 📻) not saying that they are devil. It’s symbolic. Same bdays. That cousin, name is Jeremy. & he was formerly a policeman 👮‍♂️. 7:47 pmpdt my sister’s name has “Die” in it. My older half sister is also Leo ♌️. And incubus has been bugging me a lot & giving a lot of signs 🪧. Using stuff I drew. The sun 🌞 tattoo near his shoulder looks almost identical to something I drew in high school 🏫 & I oddly chose to throw it away even though I usually hold onto a lot of my drawings. & if you know my bday, then you know. 7:51 pmpdt

8 pmpdt 8:01 incubus captioned in his Instagram picture for the “wait” 2nd music video using Snapchat “work smart not hard” hence lying 🤥 can get the job done ✅? Reverse psychology he somehow put that in front of my face in 2017. 8:03 pmpdt stroh said “in plain sight” was it? 8:04 pmpdt which is why I don’t believe in heaven, only Sheol now. Which was introduced recently. With in last 2 years. 8:05 pmpdt

8:36 pmpdt he likes to do what is easy & deceive. I’m always being punished. He already said he would never touch me/ sleep 😴 with me/ have s*x w/me. “I can’t I just fucking can’t” was it? He doesn’t like ugly girls. He knows all the social ques to make himself look 👀 good. He went to French woods arts 🎭 acting school 🏫. He’s an actor. He showed himself to me when I lived in blossom hill. He showed me he hated me. He seemed to halfway reenact it w/an old man on an Instagram post w/a caption? His disgust was palpable. He’s actually talking about his own feelings about me. But in the picture he’s smiling- opposite of what I saw 👀 in person. & he’s giving the bird to the viewer. Bcz I’m slavery covenant sacrifice, I’m fucked. I’m also fucked Bcz I’m being burned to death ☠️. My arm is red. They scorched 🥵 my back & side. They are vicious. I did not rape or premeditate murder. I think 🤔 they don’t like me Bcz I mayb was a little too greedy w/ food & I gave my aunt a hard time. They encourage people to keep quiet rather than complain. I was thin most of my life & petite but I guess it isn’t enough. Once when I was on a college bus 🚌 I felt like they were telling me I took up too much space. I’ve been told I look anorexic b4. & twice I lost a lot of weight in 2014 & 2019? I was probably under 95 pounds each time- guessing 2014. 8:52 pmpdt they have torn away almost all of my hip bones 🦴. So I think it is best to have assisted suicide like behati’s T-shirt says. W/ her tongue 👅 sticking out & an x formed w/ her arms over her vag. Sitting on the bed. Instagram picture. It’s really going to happen. 8:55 pmpdt bcz they didn’t let me see who was kissing me I’m guessing it was a gigolo assistant. Otherwise why put it online for me to realize after the fact? He lies all the time Bcz it’s easy for him. Detached. 8:57 pmpdt I would have really liked a happy ending. Like he kept dangling in front of my face w/ false promises. Like a donkey. Behati lied 🤥 to me too . Waiting for water to boil. David dowd boil. Beloved = boil. Susan boy-les/boiles. 9 pmpdt burning 🔥 my flesh means I won’t heal. 9 pmpdt he put I didn’t cheat on my wife but I crossed a line. That I guess was for me about the gigolo assistant kiss 💋 with my eyes 👀 closed. My eyes 👀 had to be closed Bcz it wasn’t him. 9:06 pmpdt

9:07 pmpdt I don’t remember much anymore. I gave my aunt a hard time sometime after my cousin punched me & I lost my job soon after which was a year. My former boss was very kind to me giving me chances. 9:08 pmpdt

9:42 pmpdt the him you saw in concert snobbish the fan who jumped on stage to give him a hug recently is probably closer to his real personality- a guess. (Blood spurt blood 🩸 9:43 pmpdt)

9:45 pmpdt lion 🦁 babies need cow 🐮 to eat. 9:46 pmpdt

Kiss 💋 of death ☠️ 9:47 pmpdt

9:49 pmpdt I look 👀 sick & tired 😴. Hospitals 🏥 avoid helping me as much as possible. I’ve been starving for oxygen, started having breathing difficulties mid 2019. Everyone ignored my breathing problems until recently. Felt like I was dying every time I can’t breathe. A lot of suffering. They don’t care 🤷🏻‍♀️ for me to have a painless death ☠️ they made it very painful everyday since summer 2017 & made me crazy enough to burn myself in 2017/2018. 9:54 pmpdt & starve myself again since end of 2017? (10:07 pmpdt year change) beginning 2018. 9:55 pmpdt everytime I eat now they drain me of blood 🩸 & feed me vinegar probably. I look anemic under my eyes 👀 w/ dark circles? They heat me up all the time so I can’t breathe 🧘🏻‍♀️ again . 9:57 pmpdt & they brain 🧠 washed me last year & 2017 using my mom possessing her to tell me lies that the incubus loves me as if she had personal meetings with him. & then he wipes away her memory of it. They are very cruel. It’s their brand of reverse psychology, woo me to kill me. Black widow spider 🕷 scorpion 🦂 praying 🙏 mantis. 10:01 pmpdt. They constantly flip flop 🩴 since 2001? It seems. But it’s now increased Bcz I’m close to death ☠️ boiling pot of water & frog 🐸. They had a back story that kept changing to support the tolerance of the flip flopping. 10:03 pmpdt but I had came to the realization that to flip flop 🩴 means to admit that they’re lying 🤥 & to normalize it. Lying 🤥 = double crossing. Cross a line then cross back over. = death ☠️ 10:05 pmpdt

10:08 pmpdt most of my life I’ve been alone. Rarel/occasionally saw grandparents on either side & cousins & aunts & uncles. Rarely talked too. (Incubus pricking tongue 👅 tip & heart ♥️ pain 10:10 pmpdt they don’t have sympathy 🫂 for me. 10:11 pmpdt)

10:54 pmpdt I need to cough to breathe 🧘🏻‍♀️ & each time I tried to cough they stabbed my brain 🧠 w/ many spikes covering the top of my brain 🧠 which is very painful 😖 & makes a full cough difficult. They made me vomit 🤮 minutes ago & now making me more nauseous. They like to torment torture me every day. Then they did the acid sand paper again.

the tricycle thing I really think 🤔 I went slow. They made me doubt myself w/ a deep fake edit. But how does an adult go fast in a tricycle not meant for adults? 11:01 pmpdt makes me think he really hurt the kid w/magic to make it feel worse than it would have felt w/o. They’re going to kill me now. 22;02 11:02 pmpdt

11:03 pmpdt Scott watched history channel in his bedroom & I watched Hitchcock’s the birds 🦅 in his room with him bcz he wanted me to even though I don’t like scary movies. Birds = pestilence = apocalypse birds 🦅 = acid eating 🍽 my brain 🧠 11:06 pmpdt. Nick lived on cassiar-> cassieopia constellation 🌌 serendipity movie 🎥 Kate beckinsale smoking 🚬 w/ her. Katty. Brain 🧠 damage? Deprivation? Etc they’re probably going to do that to me now. More tortures death ☠️ 11:09 pmpdt

11:11 pmpdt I’m wide awake Katy Perry’s. I have been to the (brain digging into tissue of brain 🧠😱😖😭😫😩 feels like they destroyed tissue 11:14 pmpdt) Phillipines when I was 7 years old , 13 years old , & 2012, 2018. Long distance calls were expensive. Comcast had a very limited plan that’s easy to go over & be charged a lot. 11:17 pmpdt all my relatives usually didn’t speak English. They did a little bit & but would often say they are embarrassed of their English. I did not learn much of either dialect my mom spoke. I think they destroyed a significant portion of my brain 🧠 & knowing their pattern they will keep doing it. 222 this is the apocalypse Sean of the dead ☠️ zombies 🧟‍♀️ 11:22 pmpdt when I tried to learn Japanese I forgot a lot even though I was practicing a lot. 11:23 pmpdt yeah, he (#3 mins ago don’t want to get up 11:24 pmpdt) lied 🤥 about loving me. He thinks I am ugly. I don’t have children 👶. Incubus doesn’t love me. It’s weird how easily he can flop flip flop 🩴. It’s easier to pretend when he lives 500 miles away. He probably gets nauseous & gags & shakes off (tummy ache torture 11:28 pmpdt) something dirty when he thinks of me. 11:28 pmpdt

11:35 pmpdt karas flowers 💐 we like digging ? I feel like I am missing part of my brain 🧠 this is not good. 11:36 pmpdt incubus is smiling = death ☠️ shi Japanese Japan 🇯🇵 Chinese 🇨🇳. My head was probably already smashed in a lot from the top 🔝 & the sides. I remember it hurt a lot. But they want me to believe it wasn’t bad. It hurt & I felt like a weirdo afterwards. They don’t want to empathize. 11:39 pmpdt they want to kill me now slowly torturesly. 11:40 pmpdt

11:45 pmpdt I wonder 💭 how dumb Nick thought 💭 I was. He probably thought I was retarded. What tummy ache 😖 I wonder hot 🥵 hot hot 🥵 if he was able to fit a game with out losing any graphing capabilities. 11:48 pmpdt incubus really hates me. If someone can tell me if Melissa Cuen is in Sunday morning at the table with the blonde 👱‍♀️ at the beginning that would be great 👍. 11:50 pmpdt job yob 408. Juke box cds 💿. 11:50 pmpdt

1:

11:52 pmpdt I don’t expect to win. But if he’s going to do this to me then why not? 11:53 pmpdt

1 ichi chi Qi blood 🩸/life force bleed 🩸 11:54 pmpdt

11:55 pmpdt I might have also tried yoga 🧘🏻‍♀️ in 2006 for the first time in community college. 11:56 pmpdt I wonder 💭... if it’s not a coincidence... I really feel like I’m missing a big part of my brain 🧠😰😭 11:57 pmpdt

in 2008 I had a project that I played the guitar 🎸 & made up my song 🎵 & played it in class last minute idea 💡 my hands 🙌 were oozing body fluid from eczema probably. I didn’t feel great. Originally I was going to make a video but I couldn’t think of what to do. (I hate you incubus 12 am pdt) I don’t expect to live. With the way it’s going. I really don’t like doing presentations in front of the class. Always. Kindergarten hiding behind my rain coat 🧥 when I hung it up 🆙. So I turned all the chairs 🪑 around, so I don’t have to see their eyes 👀 & they don’t have to see me. It was like a radio 📻 experience. I don’t know 🤷🏻‍♀️ if anyone remembers. I m guessing no one cares. It’s ok. I don’t expect to get anything from anyone. 12:04 am pdt

12:06 am pdt usually I get very nervous. Even if I have to sit in. My seat 💺 & answer a question 🙋🏻‍♀️ I sometimes got shaky. 12:07 am pdt

12:10 am pdt I would rather have my all my bones 🦴 & health than anything.

[primofate]

2K Followers Event: Pancake and Waffle Cafe Masterlist

Nutella Waffles (overhearing and misunderstanding a conversation/situation) MODERN AU ANGST

Characters: Childe, Kazuha, Thoma, Albedo, Kaeya, Zhongli, fem!reader

Warnings: not proofread :D, cheating, fighting, insulting, misunderstanding (duh), pregnancy, sexual innuendos, implying sex, mentions of sex, still SFW though, of course I bent the lore since it’s an AU

Notes: I had trouble with this so I decided to make it a modern AU. That’s also why it took so long. I think my brain is starting to run dry XD I mean, there’s only so much situations/conversations I could think of that could be misunderstood. Still, enjoy!

Childe

"Ah, sorry, Y/N, I can’t walk you home today... Maybe tomorrow?” Childe smiled at you, scratching the back of his head, his school bag swung over his shoulder already. He looked like he was in a hurry. 

It’s been a few days like this and you really didn’t know what was happening. You asked him if he needed help with stuff at home or if he was having a hard time with his homework and if that’s why he was always rushing off. He would just give you the same smile and wave a hand. “It’s nothing like that,” and then off he’d go. 

The next day, as you walk towards his classroom during lunchtime you hear him and his friends talking before you even reach the classroom door. 

“Zoe is totally cute,” Childe says. The voice he uses is something that he’d never used on you before. You freeze in your tracks and try to listen in more. “Wow, she really is! Great job picking her!” one of his friends said and it sounded as if they’d hit Childe on the back as a congratulations. “Let me see, let me see,” another one says followed by a gasp. “Have you taken her out yet?” Childe laughs nervously and you know all too well without even looking at him that he’s probably scratching his head. “No, not yet,” 

“Does your girlfriend know yet?” Someone else asks.

And then you hear a laugh that’s all too mischievous. All too playful. All too heart-wrenching. “She doesn’t know!” and they continue to laugh.

You turn away and try your hardest not to let tears escape from your eyes. It felt as if you were being laughed at. Like everyone knew that he was cheating. Everyone except you. It doesn’t help that there was a Zoe in the other class too. The way his friends laughed made your cheeks heat up in embarrassment and the tears you were so desperately holding back to finally flow through.

You ended up staying in the washroom for the whole of lunch time, staying in a cubicle for an extra few minutes, late for the next class.

Somehow you didn’t expect Childe to still show up in your classroom to pick you up for the day and walk you home. You stare at him at the classroom door, your eyes had already gone back to their normal shade, but still glossy. He doesn’t notice, he has a big smile on his face that mocks you. Ridicules you. 

“Y/N! Let’s go together today!” Does he feel guilty? Is that why he finally agrees to walk home with you? Cause he’s had his fill of Zoe already? You don’t say a word and exit the classroom, going past him. Childe blinks, and turns to watch you walking away from him. “Y/N?”

He walks after you, and takes his place next to you. He touches the strap of your backpack, as usual, and says “I’ll take this--”

“I got it,” you reply curtly and move away from him. He’s dumbfounded, eyes still a little wide at your sudden coldness. Now he’s getting anxious. Did he do something wrong? “H-Hey...Y/N, are you mad because I didn’t walk home with you the past couple days? See, I was just--”

“I’m not that petty!” You nearly growl at him, holding his gaze for a few seconds before walking off again. Your eyes are starting to prickle with more tears. You just wanted to get home. As soon as you can. Away from him. You didn’t have the heart to break up with him face to face. You liked him too much, you knew you wouldn’t be able to do it while looking at his handsome face. 

Then, he snatches your wrist and pulls you back towards him. The school hallways are emptying out, there’s a few students walking by who ignore the two of you. “Then what’s the matter? I don’t like it when we fight. At least tell me what I did!” 

You wrench your wrist away from his and start sniffing. He stands there, shocked at where your tears are coming from. Until you start talking. “I heard you, during lunch time,” his eyebrows furrow. “Lunch...time?” He mumbles, not following. “When you were talking about your cute Zoe!” He doesn’t say anything for a moment and that only confirms your fears. 

He’d been looking at other girls, and probably wanting them.

“...Y/N, Zoe is...” Childe scratched his cheek, averting his eyes away. 

“I don’t wanna hear it,” you try to turn away, but he doesn’t let you and holds your shoulders with his hands, staring straight at you. “My dog,” You were crying at this point, and when you hear his next words your eyes narrow. “W-What?”

“Zoe is my new dog,” 

“B-But your friend asked if you took her out yet...”

“Yeah,” Childe tilted his head, “for a walk?” As you start to connect the dots he takes out his phone and shows you the picture of a cute miniature poodle, it had a collar and a silver tag on it that said “Zoe”. You thought that you might cry again at how cute she was but you just glare up at Childe. “Well, I didn’t tell you cause I was gunna surprise you. I’ve been going home early these days cause we had to go visit the pound a few times and finalize the papers and everything...” 

“I-Is that true? Is that all it is?” You sniff, now wiping your stupid tears away. Childe smiles down at you and takes your hands away from your face, replacing it with his, thumbing away the streaks of wetness. “Y/N, no one can ever replace you,” you sniff and let him dote on you. You’d been missing him for a while anyway. 

“...Well except Zoe, maybe Zoe can,” he’s clearly teasing you and you don’t hesitate to lift your fist and punch him on the shoulder, earning a small “Ow,” from him followed by a laugh. “I’m just kidding, how ‘bout you come over and visit her today? It’s only her second day home!”

Thoma

You’d made an appointment with your friend a long time ago. Just a quick lunch and catch up date. Thoma had graciously volunteered to drive you to the mall where you were meeting up with her.

“You sure you don’t need me to pick you up? It’s Saturday. I’m free,” he flashes you a smile, his eyes darting towards you only for a second before going back to the road. “I’ll be fine hun, I’ll take the bus home,” you reply to him.

Halfway through your journey he says that he needs to buy something from a convenience store, and so he parks the car properly and grabs his wallet. His phone is on the car phone stand and you pay no heed to it until a soft ‘ding’ makes you pick your head up to look at the screen. 

Your best friend’s name pops up, she’s messaged him and your blood runs cold.

“I’ll come over when Y/N’s gone,” the message read. Your heart is already at your throat, and you don’t know what to think. What is this make-believe situation that you’re suddenly in. Is this really happening? Your eyes dart upwards to look at the door of the convenience store. You could see Thoma was still looking at the shelves.

You gulp and you wonder what the right thing to do is. Invade his privacy and peek at his messages? Let it go? Confront him? Cry? Another ‘ding’ fills up the car.

“How long is she going to be out? The longer the better. So...” you couldn’t read the rest of the message, it being cut off but you were already spiraling down the hole of despair. How could he? Your sweet and loyal Thoma ended up going behind your back with your best friend. You thought you were going to be sick, you actually had to roll the windows of the car down to get some fresh air, just as Thoma came out of the convenience store door with a plastic bag. 

You couldn’t look at him. You couldn’t even be in the same space as him. You were going to cancel today with your friend, you didn’t think you’d be able to function properly. When he sat on the driver’s seat and saw you looking out the window, he didn’t think much of it and revved the engine up. “Ready hu--”

“Take me to my sister’s place,” Thoma blinked and turned to you, confused. “But, what about your lunch date today, dear?”

“I don’t feel like going. My sister’s place is nearby, just drop me off there,” Your hands were already typing a reply to the friend that you were about to stand up on, but you couldn’t even think of what to do or say. 

“Dear is everything okay?” He asked while backing the car up, arm outstretched to your side while he’s looking at the rear. He was appalled by your sudden mood change. You didn’t answer but he hears you sniff and he immediately stops the car again. “Y/N? What’s wrong?” He’s alarmed that you’re crying and he reaches to cup your chin and tilt it towards him but you move your face away from him. 

“Y/N?” he asked, the confusion in his voice is actually genuine and you can hear a bit of panic in it. “How long have you been seeing Aya?” you spit the words as if they’re poison and the car is quiet. You laugh bitterly. “I thought so, cat got your tongue, huh?” 

Thoma shook himself out of his confusion to say, “No, wait, I don’t know what you mean,” You scoff at him. You’re shocked at the amount of resentment you had, you trusted this man and yet this is what happens. “Yeah? Why is she sneaking into our house then?” You point at his phone, the screen is still lit up because of the messages and there were more coming in from your best friend. 

Thoma snatches the phone away from the stand and looks at it. Then, he deflates and slumps back on his seat. “Y/N, it’s not what you think,” You hate that line so much. You cross your arms and say, “Just drop me at my sister’s house,” 

“Y/N--”

“NOW!”

The drive was quiet. You didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to push you but didn’t want to drop you off to your sister’s without explaining as well. So, just before your sister’s block, he parks on the side and unbuckles his seat belt, then opens your side of the door. “Y/N, listen to me,” he’s rarely this assertive, but you still don’t listen. He’s blocking your escape path. 

“It’s your birthday today,” Thoma starts and you blink, completely forgetting about it. “Ayu is sneaking in our house while you’re gone because we were going to set up a surprise for you.” He says slowly, as if he’s talking to a child. Your eyes widen, and you relax in your seat. He gives you his phone and urges you, “Go on, Y/N, you know my passcode right? I don’t hide anything from you, you can read the rest,” 

You hesitate, but accept his offer and type it in. 

“How long is she going to be out? The longer the better. So we can set up the balloons,”

“I got the cake don’t forget the candles and lighter,”

Thoma picks up his other hand that had the white plastic bag from the convenience store, he picks up the two items from inside. Birthday candles. And a lighter. 

Your mouth opens, but you can’t say anything and you only bury your face in your hands out of shame. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry Thoma, I--” He manages to let out a laugh and kisses the top of your head. “I’m so stupid. I trust you, I really do, I just--” now you’re not sure if you’re crying out of relief or embarrassment. “I’m so sorry,” You can’t say anything else and he only kisses you on the forehead again.

“It’s alright, you can make it up to me by going on that lunch date, okay? You deserve the rest. You haven’t cancelled yet have you? Let’s freshen up at your sister’s place and I’ll send you to the mall,” 

You nod your head, small smile on your face. This was gunna be one story to tell in the future.

“Oh and it would help if you act surprised when you come home,” Thoma adds with a full laugh that you join in on. 

Kaeya

"So how are you and Y/N?”

It’d only been a couple of months of the two of you dating. Kaeya was handsome, gallant and he knew exactly what to say to people. It wasn’t a secret that he was quite popular in school. 

Little old you was just another girl in just another class.

“Good, I think,” Kaeya responds, you smile around the corner, hidden from sight, knowing that he was taking a juice box break with his friends. “It’s a little annoying though,” your smile drops and your head tilts sideways in question. “I can’t keep her away and she doesn’t even realize how annoying it is,” 

Keep me away? You think. Am I too clingy? You hear them exchange words a bit more, but none of the other words process in your head. Their laughter spurs you out of your thoughts and you return to your classroom dumbfounded. 

When the bell rang for dismissal you immediately packed and walked home by yourself. Kaeya was confused when he arrived at your classroom door, and found that you weren’t there anymore. “...Hey, did Y/N go home?” he asked one of your passing classmates. “Yeah, she went out pretty fast,”

Now he was worried. Did something happen at home? He takes his phone out as he’s out the school building, tapping your name and calling, only for the call to not even connect. His brows furrow but nonetheless, he goes home for today and types in a message for you.

“Hey, you okay? Talk to me if you need something,” 

The next day, when he usually waits outside your door for you to come out, he realizes that you’re a little late and further realizes that you weren’t going to come out. He wasn’t about to knock on your door, your parents didn’t know about him yet. 

He tries to call you again but he’s met with the same result as yesterday. He sighs and looks up at the sky while he’s walking. He hasn’t seen you for nearly a full day now, and he doesn’t realize how long a full day is until now. He just wants to see your smiling face again and he starts to wonder if he’d done something wrong. 

By lunchtime, he’s sprinting towards your classroom as soon as the bell rings, wondering if you were there. Indeed, finally, he spots you in your classroom and his shoulders slump in relief only to tense up again when he sees a guy in your class talking to you, and you, smiling happily. 

“Y/N,” he calls out to you, waving his hand. You look away from your conversation to him and he notices how your smile turns into a tight line on your face. His own smile drops, but you walk out of the classroom anyway and address him. “Yes?” He blinks down at your tone of voice. “U-Uh... Wanna have lunch together?” 

“...But it’s annoying that I’m clingy right?” The two of you unconsciously move away from the door to out in the hallway, so that you’re not blocking the way of people coming in and out. He narrows his eyes in confusion. Where is this coming from? “I--No, what do you mean? I never said that,” 

“Yesterday, you said you can’t keep me away and it’s annoying,” you averted your gaze, feeling your eyes start to water. Kaeya reels back a little, replaying things in his mind, trying to remember if he said something like that. And, with a light bulb moment, his face breaks into a grin and slight laughter. You glare up at him, “What? It’s funny?”

Kaeya places a hand on your shoulder and explains while smiling. “Y/N, you didn’t listen to the rest of the conversation, did you?”

---What really happened---

“It’s really annoying though. I can’t keep her away and she doesn’t even realize how annoying it is,” he sips on his juice box again.

One of his friends pipe up, “Dude that’s a little harsh,”

Kaeya blinks. Once, twice and thrice. Until it dawns on him. “Oh, no, I meant that I can’t keep her away from other people,” he grins and leans both his elbows on the windowsill. “She doesn’t realize that she’s super friendly, and other people like talking to her a lot. Whenever I go to her classroom she’s always talking to different people.”

His friends make a sound of understanding. “I wish I could just keep her to myself,” and continues sipping on his juice.

“That’s really cheesy, even for you, Kaeya,” one of his friends say and the lot of them starts laughing.

---That’s what really happened---

It was your turn to blink at him, confused. “S-So...”

Kaeya pats your head and smiles. “You can ask my friends if it makes you feel better,”

A small blush crosses your cheeks and you duck your head to hide it. It earns yet another chuckle from him. Your moment is interrupted by another guy who approaches the two of you. “Hey, Y/N, if you’re free, do you think you could help me out with this? I don’t really understand it,” 

Kaeya just looks at the guy and sighs, then turns to you again. “See what I mean?” to which you just goofily smile at. 

Kazuha 

“You saw what?”

Your hands freeze, holding the book you were reading open. The living room had gotten lively again, seeing as your little brother had come home from school. “I saw Kazuha with a girl,” 

You try to keep your face composed. It was a school day. You’d stayed home because you weren’t feeling too well. Your brother was saying it without a care in the world. He was just a grade schooler and telling you about the things he observed. He was looking through the fridge for something to drink. 

You didn’t ask more, but you were DYING to know more. Kazuha didn’t mention going anywhere today... You picked your phone up and wondered if you should ask him. Your phone had blown up this morning cause he didn’t see you at school and he was wondering if you were alright. 

But it seems that Kazuha himself was having a grand time too.

“So...T-The girl...Did they look close?”

Your little brother closes the fridge and looks at you while drinking from a milk carton. “Mm...They were holding each other...” You bit your lip as tingles run down your spine. They weren’t the good kind. It was the kind that you get when you watch horror movies and or a drama movie and a revelation had just happened. You were silent for a moment, but in your mind you were already thinking of how Kazuha looked with another girl. Holding each other? What did your brother mean? Like...hugging? Or...? But you couldn’t ask him about that, could you?!

You sighed out loud and slammed the book you were reading down on the table, just as your phone started ringing. “Kazuha,” you whispered under your breath and looked at your phone screen. Well...you believed in him, and you thought the best way to clear this up is to talk to him about it.

So, you grabbed your phone and retreated into your bedroom to talk to him. You picked up the call, “Kazu-kun?”

“Y/N,” he greeted. Even apart, his voice has this effect on you. Like he was really there and breathing into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You were sure that you were blushing. “How are you? Are you feeling better?” His voice is smooth and calm and you melt into your bed. “Yeah, a little,”

“Could I come over later? I just want to check on you,” You smile into your phone and close your eyes. Kazuha could never do that to you, you think to yourself. But still, you really wanted to ask. “Of course, I don’t think my parents would mind...Hey,” you start, your fingers nervously drawing circles on your pillow. ���My brother said he saw you...with a girl,”

There’s silence on the other line, and you can hear him shifting a little. “A...girl?” He repeats the question and you bite your lip. He sounds unsure and now you were unsure too. “Yeah, he said that you were holding on to each other...or something,” Again some silence, until he makes a sound of understanding.

“Ah, he must mean Sango,” there’s a little lilt to his voice, like he was happy and you were a little jealous. “Sango’s my cousin, she came to surprise me for my birthday week.” Kazuha laughs nervously and adds a little hesitantly. “She...uhm...would like to meet you actually, is it okay if I bring her over today?” 

Your heart sighs in relief, as do you and you don’t realize that you’ve done that out loud. In the next moment though, you smile and nod, even though he can’t see you. “Of course! Bring her over!” 

Albedo (More fluff than angst)

Cleaning at home was one of the things you did to get your mind off of things. Some people would call it tedious, but to you, it was sort of relaxing. It was something easy to do, you didn’t need much of your brain, just motor memory. Folding. Laundry. Ironing. Sweeping. Basic chores.

But when you clean up in the bedroom you shared with your boyfriend, and found a neatly wrapped present, red wrapping paper and blue ribbon tied on the top with a tag that said “To: Leila” you’re a little dumbfounded.

Who’s Leila? Is your first thought. Your second thought is, what’s inside? You hold the nicely wrapped box in your hand and turn it all over, trying to get some type of hint. A flash of doubt seeps into your mind but you shake it away. Albedo isn’t like that...Is he? He’s always so dedicated to his scientific research and sure he comes home late sometimes but he always makes it up to you on the weekends...

So who’s Leila? You ask yourself again. And why hasn’t he mentioned it to you? Why didn’t he ask YOU to wrap it? Menial tasks like these were usually passed on to you. You bite your thumb just thinking about it, but in the end just leave the present where you find it.

Later that night as you’re fixing dinner, you aren’t as bothered by the gift as when you first saw it. But it’s still there at the back of your mind and it resurfaces to the front when you hear the familiar keys rattle. Despite that, as he snakes his arms around your waist from behind you can’t help but smile and melt a little, pressing back against him as he leans over to kiss your cheek. “...Smells nice,” he simply mumbles and closes his eyes, enjoying the warmth of both you and your home.

“Welcome back,” you say, while closing the lid on the pot and turning around to give him a proper kiss on the lips. He hums into the kiss as a response and pulls you away from the stove. “How’s your day?” he asks you first and you smile, because your day is nearly the same time and time again. “Fine, I did find a little secret though...” you start and peek up at his beautiful eyes. 

He nods to ask you to continue. “A present, nicely wrapped. and it’s addressed to someone called Leila,” He looks down at you and you stare at him. A moment passes by before he takes his arms back and go into his thinking pose. “...Leila...?” he asks, eyes averting from your gaze. You wonder if he’s pretending. You wonder if he’s trying to make an excuse up. “...I don’t--” and then his eyebrows twitch. “Ah,” he says and drops his arms to his side.

“We were invited to a birthday party, remember? By a co-worker,” he tucks in strands of your hair as he talks. “It’s her daughter’s first birthday...I don’t care much for such things but you insisted it’d be alright to go.” he chuckles a little. “Her daughter’s name is Leila,” 

You make a sound of understanding. Suddenly your hesitant thoughts wither away. “Hmmm? You could’ve asked me to wrap the present,” Albedo pulls away from you and towards the fridge, wanting a glass of water. “The wrapping wasn’t done by me, it was the shop, free service,” and so it made more sense.

And although you want to ask more questions, like where he got it, when and what’s inside, you realize it’s such a trivial thing. It was not worth that much time. A gift is a gift, and you turn back to continue making dinner while making idle conversation with him. 

Zhongli (Warning: Suggestive) (but this is also my personal favourite... aha...)

“Zhongli?” You arrive home a little early today, dropping your keys at the front shelf. You don’t hear him anywhere and you shuffle around your living room for a while, looking at the letters for today. 

He was on a work from home arrangement today, and he would usually be in his office. You were quite sure that he would’ve come out to greet you though, if he heard you. He must be busy at the moment. 

You’d wanted to wash your hands as soon as you came home, and went for the guest washroom. When you open the door, your eyes land on something on the counter, next to the sink. This bathroom was always kept clean for visitors. You liked to host people once in a while, or just invite friends and you took pride in having them comfortable in your house.

Your eyes narrow as you go closer and your hands pick up a pregnancy test that was lying there. 

It was positive.

You put it back down and shudder a little. You don’t remember getting a pregnancy test. You bite your lip and look at yourself in the mirror. You’re already jumping to conclusions, and you can’t help it. Who the hell would leave a pregnancy test in YOUR guest bathroom? Zhongli didn’t mention anything...

You sigh a breath out and close the bathroom door behind you, taking your phone out to text your best friend.

“There’s a positive pregnancy test in our guest bathroom,”

After a moment, there’s a reply.

“OMG Are you preggers?!”

“No, it’s not mine,”

The next reply takes a moment more. “Oh, maybe ask him?” and you know that your friend hadn’t known what to reply at that moment. Because a random positive pregnancy test in your guest bathroom was NOT a good sign. To top it off, you didn’t announce to Zhongli that you were coming home early today.

Your perk up when you hear noise from the other room. You open the bathroom door slightly, and hear the unmistakable low voice of your fiance, coupled with...the voice of another woman. You close the bathroom door again, not bothering to lock it, and sit on the closed toilet seat. You’re sitting there with nothing in your mind, unable to think.

A few minutes later the voices are louder, they’ve moved to the living room, right outside the bathroom you were in. You tense up, and your jaw tightens. You don’t want to see them. You don’t want to hear them. For a moment you wish that you didn’t come home early, and just pretend this didn’t happen, but the door to the bathroom door opens, leaving you eye to eye with a woman you recognize.

Luna was a beautiful woman. Long cascading brown hair, they’re wavy and stops right at her waist. Doll-like blue eyes and a slender body. She sees you sitting there and you feel stupid, but she just breaks into a grin. “Y/N!” she grabs you by the wrist and pulls you out of the bathroom before you could even say anything. You’re numb, so you don’t respond to anything around you.

Zhongli turns around wide-eyed to see you standing there meekly, not meeting his gaze. He still goes to you though and asks curiously. “When did you come in? I didn’t hear you,” he places a hand on your arm while Luna releases you, but you still don’t look up and he wonders if something happened at your workplace to make you come home so early. “Luna and Childe stopped by,” Zhongli says, in at attempt to cheer you up. You look up, and only then did you realize that Childe was there too, talking animatedly to Luna. You tilt your head sideways, “They came with a surprise. Ah, but it’s not mine to tell,” 

That’s right... Luna and Childe had been together for a while and then it hits you when Luna shows you the same positive pregnancy test you saw on the counter, and announces that she’s pregnant. Your eyes are wide. You can’t tell if you’re more relieved that it wasn’t what you thought or more happy for your friends. You feel horrible about it but you manage to crack a smile and went along with the festivities. The more time passed the more you were able to enjoy their happiness and by the time they left, that was the only time you sighed and let your shoulders slump, exhausted.

“Is something the matter?” Zhongli asked. He noticed how your smiles were a tad bit forced. How you seemed to enjoy everything but also seemed to be on edge. You turn to him and shook your head. “It’s...stupid. It’s my mistake,” but he holds on to your waist and urges you to tell him.

And you tell him. How you came home and saw what you saw in the guest bathroom, what you thought it was and how you felt. The only thing you can feel now is embarrassment and shame. You couldn’t even feel happy for your friend. Zhongli only smiles and combs his hand through your hair. “It’s the normal reaction,” he reassures you, again trying to make you feel better. You only respond with your own hug but his next sentence makes you flustered, all thoughts of earlier gone as he whispers into your ear.

“Would you like your own positive pregnancy test?”

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[hansolmates]

shiver | 01 (m)

banner done by the wonderful @dnrequests​

summary; jungkook changed since he moved out of his small town church community and attended college. when he returns for a christmas mass, you suddenly crave a taste of his fun and carefree life. in exchange, jungkook craves a taste of you pairing; bad boy!jungkook x church girl!reader genre/warnings; childhood friends to lovers, brief childhood friends to enemies, fwb!au, catholic guilt, jungkook is a meanie who eventually turns into a soft tsundere, bicuriosity, sexual exploration, virgin!oc, eventual smut—in this installment: touching over the clothes, mc is hornee, *pulls out cards against humanity* “a gentle caress of the inner thigh”, panty kissin, mc is a big ol’ pushover and hopeful for jkk:(( w/c; 1.9k a/n; it’s here! aaaaaa!!! i’ve been really eally realllyyyyyy nervous to post this. even though this is just a drabble series  let me know how you feel about it! enjoy [shiver masterpost]

“Oh, you’re so dead.” 

Jeon Jungkook isn’t thaaaat buff, he's more of a skinny kind of muscular. You don’t understand the hype, why everyone croons over Jungkook’s strength and physique. However, how else could you explain Jungkook being able to climb the currently dilapidated fire escape to the top floor of the chapel. The ladder is rusted beyond repair and is definitely a fire hazard rather than a fire escape. Yet he barely breaks a sweat doing it, and he wipes the minor sheen off his brow with the back of his hand. There’s some soot and whatever nasty residue from the fire escape that gets on his face, a black streak marring his already annoying face. He’s currently wiggling his fingers in a sarcastic “hello.” It makes you sneer, your two consciousness (inappropriate and appropriate) warring against each other to determine whether you still find this man attractive or not. 

Convincing yourself that Jungkook is ugly is the worst quick-fix idea you’ve ever had. 

The words of your Aunties, the family friends in the church, echo in your ears. Jungkook’s bad. They’d say over and over. It would cause you to snort and giggle, unable to imagine what sort of things he’s done to warrant such a cliché label. Yet some of the girls your age, girls that have gone off to college agree with sultry looks and longing eyes that yes, Jungkook’s bad. So bad, it’s good. 

You haven’t a clue what he’s actually done to earn such a hushed title, his parents are lip-tight about his doings, unless it’s his achievements in the architecture graduate program. You hear things, though. Things that make you shamefully green with envy, envious of sin. 

As soon as he finds proper footing in the storage room, he goes to the closet, immediately finding his backup clothes. They’re plain white button-downs, awkward long shirts with no shape or definition to them. They belong to the church, and no one ever uses them because they’re stiff and itchy. Yet Jungkook wears them like it’s tailored, and you have to look away when he quickly knots the bottom half of the shirt, fashioning it into a tasteful double knot in order to cinch his lean waist.

“Pretty sure it was just you that saw me,” Jungkook says dismissively, “so it’s fine.” 

This bristles you the wrong way, and you put down the catering covers you were supposed to return to the storage room. You smooth out your Sunday dress, this shade of Boring Beige looking particularly pale in the morning sun. “How do you know I won’t tell?” you turn your nose up. 

“Because I know,” he doesn’t even look at you, focusing on rolling the sleeves of his shirt. You weaken when you see the black shadowing across his forearm. That’s new, then again you haven’t seen him since last Christmas.   

“Know what?” 

“That you have a crush on me,” Jungkook says into the air like it’s common knowledge, adjusting the leather jacket on top of his outfit so the white-startched collar pops on top, “I mean, it’s hard for anyone not to know. You’ve been into me since youth group, Bunny.”  

You hold your breath, counting to ten as you close the door behind you. A vision of you playing “Duck Duck Goose” as a five year old plays in your head, where you’d pick a bushy, big-eyed Jeon Jungkook each time, hopping over to him to pat his fluffy head so he’d chase you around. 

It’s old news, your puppy love for Jungkook. How could you not like him? He's clever and sweet with his mother and always told the best stories in youth group meetings.  Everyone thought your affections were so sweet, and while that attention weaned over time, your feelings have only increased the more self-aware you’ve become. 

With a mind as open and honest is yours, it’s hard to ignore how well Jungkook has grown. What has also grown is your curiosities since the two of you have moved onto university. Jungkook goes to the university uptown, a far drive which only forces him attend masses during the holidays. You attended the local community college, wrapping up a bachelors in some vague major that you’re not attached to. You’re currently looking around for some graduate schools, but unfortunately you’ve been so wrapped up doing duties for Pastor Nina that you haven’t been able to look around properly. 

Jungkook’s probably living a fun life, with the way he’s grown rough and loose, you resent him. 

When you turn back around, Jungkook’s right in front of you, trapping you between his body and the door.  

“Don’t be embarrassed, Bunny,” you furrow your brows, nearly growing cross-eyed when he leans in. “I think your crush is cute.” 

You’re not sure what he thinks of you. Sure, he considered everyone a friend when you two were in youth group, but that was youth group. Premeditated, parents forcing other children to do the same things with each other for years upon years in the hope they’ll practice together forever and ever. Jungkook did not want that, evident from the way he dipped his duties as soon as he got into university. 

You hate how easy he dips back into it though, calling you Bunny and making you feel like a little girl all over again. Bunny, because you’d hop around to him whenever he was in sight. Bunny, because Jungkook had been fondly compared to the wide-eyed, diamond-toothed creature. It was cute when you were five. Now, it’s just discomfiting. 

“Don’t call me that,” you bite, “and I don’t like you anymore.” 

“Sure you don’t,” he rolls his eyes, and you flinch when Jungkook’s hand rests on the curve of your waist, fingers slotting themselves between the pleats of your skirt. “That’s why you’re not moving away when I’m about to put my hand under your skirt. Because you don’t like me.” 

You press yourself further into the door, your skin hot and vibrating. So warm, you feel like you could melt through the door and escape from Jungkook’s gaze. Sure, the young ladies in the congregation talk. Maybe you’ve heard a story or two about Jungkook being seedy, a result of being repressed after years and years of stiff routines and expectations thrust upon him. You could care less about Jungkook’s sexual appetite, until this appetite has reached you. 

“Mm, you’re pretty,” Jungkook’s eyes roam your form, the daisy white blouse doing nothing to barricade Jungkook’s sudden interest in you, “you’ve never been touched like this, have you?” 

“I’ve touched myself like this,” you hiss in defense, and it’s more out of anger than in pleasure. You don’t need a man to comfort you, but Jungkook’s eyes sparkle in mirth at the new information. 

“That’s really sexy,” Jungkook slips down, roams his fingers down to your ankles and plays with the silver buckles of your Mary Janes. You shiver when his hands trail up up up to your knees, the swell of your thighs, and catch right under the elastic seam that holds your secrets together, “but I’ll have you know, it’s different when you have someone hold your pleasure in their hands.” 

You’re in the storage room of your church, fifteen minutes before the Christmas mass, with Jeon Jungkook’s head between your legs. Your skirt is long, and Jungkook doesn’t bother to ride it up your waist. 

It feels more forbidden that way, Jungkook hiding under the fabric of your skirt to get to your honeyed center, sneaking his way in with rough hands and soft touches.

“J-Jungkook,” you whimper, pressing your full spine against the wooden door, “we shouldn’t. N-not like this.”

What is wrong with you? Is it sheer curiosity? Do you just want to know what it finally, finally feels like? You should be pushing him away. There’s red lights flashing back and forth in your brain like sirens. Yet, do you really want to turn away the attention you’ve been aching for years? 

You imagined your first time to be relatively special. The bare minimum, a bed, a talk, and a partner you’re mutually committed to. None of those things are met. Now you understand why all the young women in church whisper about sex like this. It’s a spur of the moment, it’s an unbridled pleasure you don’t want to stop, no matter how forbidden and sinful the act is.  

“How else then?” you feel his deep voice straight through your panties, his lips whispering between the pink cotton like he’s sinking liquid heat into your skin. “I can’t sink my fingers into your sweet cunt during the candle lighting. Or when we open presents with the family after. That would be inappropriate.” 

Your replies come out in breaths, puffs of air that conceal the moans you so badly want to let out as Jungkook pokes and rubs at you. He does nothing beyond the cotton fabric, only slides two fingers up and down your slit as he gathers the arousal between his digits. 

“So wet already, that’s so sexy,” he’s kissing your core, and you sigh fretfully at the pleasure that feels so close yet so far away. 

“P-please, Jungkook…” 

“Please what?” Jungkook teases, fingers slipping back and forth between the elastic of your underwear, “please stop? Please touch me? Please fuck me?” 

The church bell answers that, and Jungkook’s nose knocks right into your bud at the sudden intrusion. You yelp at the jarring stimulation, pulling him from under your skirts as the loud noise echoes in the room. Both of you wince at the pain, the moment interjected. 

“You first,” Jungkook casually opens the door for you, as if he didn’t have you ten seconds away from begging him to make you come. 

You don’t even look at him as you dash away, not bothering to take the elevator in favor of running off the heat. Two minutes before the procession. The church is packed to the brim, only the back seats left. Your family probably gave up on waiting for you up in the front. As you sit down in the corner, you’re momentarily distracted by the beauty of a decorated church on Christmas. Even though you’re part of the decorating committee and commanded most of the design, seeing the stained glass lit up with fairy lights and the poinsettia plants blooming burgundy on the altar, you’re impressed. 

“There’s a draft here, you must be cold.” Jungkook talks to you so politely, a perfect picture of a gentleman as he drapes his leather jacket over your lap. He speaks as if it’s a pleasant surprise, a childhood friend he hasn’t seen in nearly a year. 

You can’t tell him to move when people are watching and Jungkook is seconds from interrupting the procession, so you reluctantly scoot over so he can sit next to you. His scent overwhelms you even more now that you’ll have to sit next to him for a whole hour, lavender and vanilla overtaking your pew. 

The jacket is heavy and heady on your lap, and you force yourself to stare straight ahead. Jungkook cannot weaken you like this, not anymore. 

Thirty minutes later, his fingers are hovering at the start of the homily, caressing your thighs under the jacket with his big hands. A draft? Please. You clamp your thighs together, knocking your knees and hoping they’d lock together for the rest of the mass. Jungkook’s a master key, easily parting his way as if your muscles are pure jelly. You turn your head sharply, glaring at him with all the fire in the world. 

“Careful,” Jungkook mouths, eyes flickering to the symbol atop the podium, “he’s watching.” 

His fingers finally brush the damp blush cotton of your panties, and you shudder.