#the screen behind him being all pixelated is SO ANNOYING but whatever

[poptart-productions]

Vegas Lights!

[3000+] words

pairing// kiribaku x black fem! reader (ft. platonic bakusquad!)

content// swearing, friends to lovers, confession, (slight) momentary angst, fluff, first kiss

[things get a little complicated when mina decides to rope you into her game of cupid]

[a/n] kiribaku brainrot.

˗ˏˋ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ´ˎ˗

"[Y/N]!"

the excited voices of sero and kaminari filled your ears as you finally—after two hours of mina's begging—hopped on the 'bakusquad bitch club' discord call

"hey guys. . ." your sleep-ridden eyes lazily glanced around at the pixelated images of your friends.

mina's image held an annoyed expression, brows furrowed, "took you long enough!" she yells, the picture lagging behind the sound some

still tired, you reply,"i will leave right now, don't play"

the look on her face changed, as she appeared to back off a bit. "i don't know why you're so mad at her, bakugou's late too" sero yawns, stretching himself over his chair

jiro snorts, "he's probably asleep"

"right!" kaminari adds, "him and that early ass bed time"

"why'd you call us here anyway? we have school in the morning" even through the screen, sero's yawn reached you—infecting you as you spoke

"because!" the alien girl's eyes drift away from the camera for a moment, a wide smile on her face

waking up a tad, you cross your arms, "i'm not liking that look"

"me either" jiro toys with her choker, looking at—presumably, you

suddenly feeling rejuvenated, you look around again to find kirishima blankly staring at his monitor.

somehow you completely missed the redhead whilst doing your headcount

"you okay, red?" you ask, a teasing tone in your voice, "huh? yeah—yeah, sorry!"

he laughs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. the entire call went painfully silent after this, glancing around at anywhere but their cameras

clearing his throat, sero gets out his phone and begins typing away,

"bro we're right here, who are you texting?" kaminari complains

"candace"

"oh? who's candace?" the blonde raises a brow

you sigh, knowing what's about to come next; you or your friends not making any attempt to stop it

"can these nuts fit in your mouth?!" now cackling, sero launches himself off his gaming chair and onto his bed, leaving it spinning in his absence

gnawing at his bottom lip, kaminari avoids virtual eye contact, "good one, dude"

"bro holding back tears right now" you join sero in his fit of laughter

"oh look, bakugou's here!" kaminari exclaims, getting the attention of everyone on the call

sure enough, there's the crimson-eyed boy—pale skin and all—being weirdly lax

"you're being uncharacteristically cool right now, kaachan" you point out, simply wanting an excuse to tease him a little

"i'm always cool, you loser!"

"sure, katsudon. . ."

he only huffs, even at the use of that nickname; it was certainly a development you were not expecting

"alright, spill" you glance down at the image of mina, still smiling widely

"i had a great idea!"

you begin shaking your head, already prepared to decline whatever she was proposing

"it's been a rough week, so i was thinking we should get out of the dorm—"

"no"

[. . .]

odd.

you remember saying 'no', yet here you are getting ready to sneak out of the dorms

admittedly, you were kind of impressed at how persuasive mina can be—hell, even bakugou resigned to his fate

well, maybe you shouldn't complain too much; you always end up having fun on these excursions

you just wish she was better about planning them in advance

that's all i ask, lord

speak of the devil, you thought as a light knock fluttered against your door

"[n/n]"the voice on the other side wasn't mina, surprisingly; it's kirishima

"yeah?"

"can we talk for a sec?"

he had this hint of urgency in his tone that you couldn't help but get concerned about

is he angry with you? is it something i said?

come to think of it, you two haven't spoken much today

cautiously, you make your way over to the door, taking a moment before opening it.

shrinking behind the shield, you looked up at the redhead—he had this unreadable expression on his face.

"actually, can we talk inside?" he asked, avoiding eye contact 

you blinked, "sure," before allowing him inside your room.

he sits on the bed; he's performed this action hundreds of times before but this time. . .

the vibes are just off.

you hesitantly join him, looking down at your knees as you fidgeted with your hands

he takes a shaky breath, before looking down at you "[y/n]. . ."

brace yourself,

"do i make you uncomfortable?"

"what? no—kiri, where'd you get that from?"

you were incredulous; where did you ever give him that indication—never, from your knowledge.

"i don't know, it's just. . .i was talking to mina and she said i'm too touchy with you"

it's true, kiri was the touchiest of your friends despite being a guy

he had no shame in asking to hold yours or bakugou’s hands—cuddling when it was cold was on the table, too

with a hum, you place your hand on top of his, and he continues "you and bakugou are the most important people in my life. . .i don't know what i'd do if i was hurting you or making feel uncomfortable"

kirishima really is the most genuine guy you know; how'd he—or bakugou decide they wanted to be friends with me?

"well you don't" intertwining your fingers with his; you stay like this for a moment before his shoulders begin to shake with laughter

wanting to humor him, you smirk, "what's so funny?"

"just thinking about something bakugou said earlier—it's an inside joke"

you can't help but feel childishly upset by that

suddenly, kirishima turns to look at you again, a clear and determined look in his eyes

"i think i really—. . ." he cuts himself off, faltering under your gaze

"what. . .what is it. . .?"

"i. . .really want to keep being friends—even after we graduate"

your tense shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, and you smiled.

"well," he pats your thigh, "mina's waiting on us" he stands to leave and you follow in silence

as you stared at his back, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more he wanted to say

he's your best friend, he'll come to you eventually

here's hoping, anyway

[. . .]

even though the vibes prior were wack, the drive to wherever mina was taking you was pretty much the same as usual

sero and kaminari telling a stupid story and everyone brawling over who gets the aux cord

still, you couldn't help but notice that bakugou was a little different today.

"alright, [n/n]!" mina yells as soon as her chosen song ended, "your turn"

you smirk as you're handed the magical music cord, knowing exactly what to play

'vegas lights'

a song that you forced kirishima and bakugou to listen on repeat whenever you got the chance

during study sessions, at lunch, at the dorms—literally no place was safe

kirshima liked it from the start but bakugou—as always, pretended to hate it

you would catch him mumbling the lyrics though

and so, it became

your song; all three of you

as soon as the drums kicked in, bakugou perked up; he knew exactly what you were doing, shooting a look at you

you turned to him and kirishima, hoping you could all sing together but instead, they were turned towards each other, signing amongst themselves but not with you.

swallowing the lump in your throat, you soon gave into dancing in your seat with mina, whose off-key singing was quick to cheer you up

after the song ended though, it's like you fell back down to earth; it pained you to look over at your best friends

just. . .the way they look at each other

you're once again not given any time to marinate in your feelings as a robotic voice breaks you away from your thoughts

"you have reached your destination"

curious, all of you look out the window to see where the girl had taken you this time

the place—presumably a restaurant was emitting fluorescent lights of all colors, bathing you and your friends in purples and blues

"wendy's rockin' eats. . .?" you read the sign, looking at mina as you finished

"yeah! it's a 60's style diner! it's open all night and there's rooftop seats!"

"sweet" jiro opened the door, and all of you followed her out

the smell of fryer grease welcomed you as you entered.

"welcome! feel free to seat yourself!"

"can we sit on the roof?" mina asks

"sure!" the hostess beams

"alright!" mina squeals, grabbing a few menus and rushing toward the stairs

"this place is pretty cool, huh?" kirishima turns to you, to which you nod, "yeah. . ."

you all quietly say yourselves down at one of the tables, almost entirely silent

that is until people started to look at the menu, "people used to eat like shit in the 60's, damn. . ." sero exhales, eyes widening with every word

mina nods, "right, like: a donut sandwich—though i won't lie, that sounds good" she admits, leaning in as she reads

"i think i'll just get a milkshake" you close the menu,

"ooh! can i share with you?!"

the boy looks at you, starry-eyed; you can't say no to that face, "alright, red"

you look up at bakugou, genuinely beginning to worry about how out of it he's being,  "you alright, kaachan?"

"what the fuck is that supposed to mean?!" he gives you what appears to be a typical 'bakugou reaction', before going right back to being silent

what on earth is he thinking about?

before you could ask him that, sero who had just been (suspiciously) whispering to mina, turned to you "[y/n], why don't you go order for us"

sucking your teeth, you glare playfully at him,"but blm, right?"

"it's not because—okay fine, i'll go with you"

the ink-haired boy begrudgingly lifts himself out of his seat, gesturing for you to follow him. chuckling, you do just that, bounding down the stairs as sero had just challenged you to a race.

you won, obviously.

the two of you awkwardly approached one of the waitresses and placed your orders.

for some reason—perhaps out of laziness, the two of you decided to stay on the lower floor while waiting for your food

you absentmindedly made your way to over to a booth, sitting down with a blank expression

"you okay?" your eyes widened—you forgot you existed for a moment

"huh? yeah of course, it's just. . ."

you stop yourself, glancing up at the look of anticipation on sero's face

it's just sero, what are you hiding from him?

sighing, you allow yourself to be honest for once, "kirishima and bakugou. . .i think. . ."

". . .they have feelings for each other. . . ? and, i'm. . ."

"jealous?"

the boy doesn't let you finish, staring at you with a raised brow; biting your lip, you force out a laugh

"i wouldn't call it that"

"do you prefer envious, then?"

"very funny, but it's not like that—really!" you realize you got a little too defensive, toning it down a bit, "i just. . .i guess i'm just worried that if the two of them were in a romantic relationship. . ."

". . .we wouldn't be friends anymore"

so much for honest.

perhaps you should cut yourself some slack? the friendship you had with the two was far more important to you than any wishful thinking you've been doing for the past two years

but, you couldn't help but feel queasy at the thought of those two dating each other—they'd be perfect, and that's the problem

sero snorts, "see, i understand where you're coming from but it’s not like they're just gonna drop you" the boy leaned in as he spoke, "kirishima never stops talking about you, and you're the only one blasty's actually nice to"

you couldn't help but smile at his words, but eventually that smile faded; you glanced away, lips pressed together

chuckling, the boy continues, "or maybe you're worried you won't be able to be friends with them and not the other way around, huh?"

". . .i stand by my previous statement: you're jealous"

"i am not!" you brought your open palm down on the table

at that very moment, the disrupting ding of a bell cut the conversation short, "order up"

good, you don’t have to defend yourself anymore

"end of story." you huff, not waiting for a response before getting up.

the walk back to your table was dead silent; that is, until you got around halfway up the stairs and noticed that sero was eyeing you

"why are you looking at me like that? i said we're done talking about it!"

"because you're so bad at this"

he had this suspicious smirk on his face, and no matter how much you tried to avoid his gaze, his eyes were eating away at you

and you broke.

"alright! i have feelings for both of them. . .it's. . .always been like this. . ." you admit, scratching the back of your neck

sero hums, eyes lingering on you as he turned to leave; you really didn't like that look on his face

the two of you made it to the roof, but you couldn't help but notice that two people were missing from the seating arrangement

"where'd they run off to?" you ask, not even bothering to hide the whiny tone in your voice

"oh yeah, they had to talk about something important" kaminari says, absentmindedly reaching for his burger

you sighed, ripping the paper casing off your straw and sticking it into the glass

not even the sickeningly sweet shake could lift your mood, if anything it made it insultingly worse

you stopped drinking, leaning back in your chair.

"are you okay, [n/n]?" you look up to find all your friends staring at you worriedly

"it's nothing" you shake your head, and they seem to back off

that is until sero opens his mouth.

"[n/n] has the hots for kirishima and bakugou"

"you son of a bitch!" you shot out of your seat, threatening to jump across the table and attack him

"oh my gosh! we should go tell them!" mina also gets out of her seat, before herding you off in the direction you assume the two went

"no! mina! let me go—"

mina stopped abruptly, and you turned to look ahead

kirishima and bakugou were standing there,

holding hands—yes, they do it all the time but it's different now

it hurts this time.

"[y/n], we have something we want to tell you"

eijirou's eyes bore into you, confident and clear; he's made up his mind

"i knew it!" mina screams, pointing an almost accusatory finger at the pair; jiro got up, only to cover the girl's mouth

you gnawed at your bottom lip, "yeah, me too. . ."

just as you feared; you were going to lose your best friends

you could feel the tears welling up, stinging your eyes; your throat burned.

"we should probably leave you three alone"

"yeah" jiro and sero agree

kaminari, on the other hand. . . "what? but i wanna see this. . . !"

he whines while mina lets out a muffled protest; all of that is in vain, however as they're both dragged out of sight and earshot.

you turn back to the two "that's what you were trying to tell me earlier, huh? that you think you really like bakugou?"

"wait —listen, [y/n]—!"

"i mean—come on kirishima—even when you were alone with me he was still on your mind"

"[y/n], it's not like that it's just—"

"you don't have to defend yourself kirishima; you feel the way you feel, and. . ."

"i'm not upset with you i just. . ."

". . .the truth is. . ."

for a split second you consider just saying it; just telling them the truth, but you don’t—you push your feelings away once again

"i'm being selfish, that's all"

"selfish?" the redhead inquired

"you're both my best friends! and i was worried that if you guys were in a relationship. . ."

why can’t you just be honest?

"you'd forget about me. . ."

you finally dared to make eye contact; they were standing there, seemingly shocked into silence.

sighing, you wiped your eyes with your sleeve, "just. . ." you turn on your heel, "forget i said anything. . . !"

you start to leave, but a very pissed bakugou calls out to you, "if you would stop whining for a fucking second, [l/n]. . . !"

he’s seriously insulting you right now?

he grips your arm, "you'd let us finish!" he forces you to stop walking

kirishima sighs, "this is my fault, i should have just told you earlier like i'd planned"

like telling me earlier would make a difference

"i. . .have feelings for you"

your heart stopped beating for a moment, and your throat dried up

"w-what. . .?"

"me too, or whatever" bakugou admits

"and we also have feelings for each other" kirishima continues

you were bewildered, staring at the two with wide eyes; a worried kirishima backs away from you

"is that weird? you're creeped out, aren't you?"

"no. . .no i feel the same way, i just—"

. . .feel really stupid now if i'm being honest

"you do?!" eijirou's eyes lit up,

"you don’t know how happy that makes me!" suddenly, you're enveloped in his warmth; he's hugging you

effortlessly, kirishima lifts you up, and swiftly,

he kissed you

heat spread from your lips like wildfire, making your vision hazy

"oh—shit, i'm so sorry!"

"it's okay,"

you plant another kiss on his lips, exchanging loving words as you pull away, "i liked it"

if there's one thing katsuki bakugou hates, it's being left out

"hey!" he barked

he shifts his attention to you, "c'mere. . ."

his voice was low and alluring, and before you knew it you were in his arms, sharing a passionate kiss

katsuki's kiss was longer and certainly less sweet than eijirou's

he pulled away with a smirk, before turning to eijirou "you too, shitty hair. . ."

"oh! yeah, sure!"

watching your best friends lock lips felt wrong, almost like you should turn away but fuck was it attractive

as the two broke away, you stammer out, "so. . .does this make us. . . ?"

"goddamn!" before you could finish your question, kaminari's voice was all you could hear

"wait but i thought the plan was for kirishima to ask [y/n]. . . ?" he turned to mina, who was coming out of her hiding spot

plan?

suddenly the events of the entire night began to make sense

"so all of them are together?"

"i guess so, yeah. . .?"

jiro and sero too?

they were all eavesdropping the whole time?

"lucky~" kaminari whines

"hot damn, i'm better than i thought!" mina literally and figuratively pats herself on the back

leave it up to mina to play cupid; although, her meddling worked in your favor for once

you seriously owe her one

[diorkittys]

how to make your robot gf jealous 101 ˚ ♡ ⋆｡ clementine + human! reader

synopsis : “could momo **** you like this?” her voice box warbled, smothered in envy, selfishness. “you think any of the other outsiders could make you fall apart like i can?” she slightly smushed your cheeks; your sweet, pitiful face drenched in those hot tears. “no, clem! o..only you!” pixelized eyes full of possessiveness, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say she was smirking. “that’s right, baby, only me.”

—TW : smut , fem! reader ( let’s go lesbians!! ) , fem terms , jealous clem ( oh my lord ) , possessiveness , fingering , the knee thing…

maybe it started when momo was being a little too touchy-feel-y towards you. his hand on your shoulder each time you made him laugh; how he hugged you just a second too long when you first walked through the door.

or maybe the first tick was caused by doc’s little pet names for you (as he does for most of his friends)—“oh, doll, you made it!” “whatever you say, hun.” “a fascinating discovery indeed, darling!”

zabaltazar most definitely struck a nerve when his full, undivided attention seemed to be solely on you all night—eyes on you whenever you had a story to tell and with input at the end to let you know he cared. even directing a different bot’s own conversation to focus on you once again.

whichever it was to push some buttons didn’t matter…

“a little bit of a baby? are you forgetting the time you screamed because you saw a rat? you didn’t let any of us leave until we scoured your entire flat to make sure there wasn’t any there!”

momo pouted, leaning back against the couch, “you’d be scared too if you saw one of those… things hanging around your living room!” his foot playfully hitting yours, which you returned by lightly kicking his shin.

momo pouted, leaning back against the couch, “you’d be scared too if you saw one of those… things hanging around your living room!” his foot playfully hitting yours, which you returned by lightly kicking his shin.

“it was a toy! it wasn’t even real!” you laughed, the other two outsiders by your side joining in with you. doc nudged your arm, smiling, “we better go ahead and check again, doll; he’s gonna get all paranoid with this memory resurfaced!”

you laughed harder at the comment, and clementine could’ve sworn she’d seen red in the moment. she hadn’t been amused in the slightest the past twenty minutes. and even with one of her favorite momo stories being told, she just couldn’t stop focusing on every little thing her friends did around you.

“doll,”

doc making you laugh.

zabaltazar not taking his annoying eyes off you.

momo now practically playing footsies with you??

oh, no—no way. this was stopping. now.

“this has been fun,” clem started, mimicking a stretch whilst yawning. everyone’s attention turned to her. “… but we should get going now—i’m sure, my love, here is also pretty tired.”

“but-“ your girlfriend cut you off with a tug of your arm to get you standing, “buuttt we’ll be back tomorrow! sorry to cut this so short!” she wasn’t at all; in fact, a weight lifted from her metal chest as soon as she had the door to baltz’ flat opened.

clem and you waved your goodbyes to the bots left behind—who all shared a question mark on their screens as they glanced between each other. with a slam of the door, you both made your leave (one was more reluctant).

“clem, what was that?” you puzzled, worriedly. though, instead of an answer, the outsider simply led you down the cascade of stairs in the apartment building; your wrist still tightly captured.

“clem? clem, talk to me, please.” as much as you were concerned about her behavior, you were also out of breath; clementine was practically dragging you towards your shared apartment.

and maybe if she opened up she would-

“please, slow down!”

but the notoriously stubborn outsider didn’t say a word, yet she calmed her pace… just by a little. it was enough for you to not have to jog to keep up. you had no doubt in your mind that she wouldn’t be opposed to tugging along your limp body had you lost your footing.

she swung open your flat’s door, giving you a chance to catch your breath as she locked it behind you. you had your hands on your knees, basically gasping for air—you must’ve been going as fast as a car back there, you thought.

and just as you repaired your lungs, standing up straight to turn and face her and say, “clem, what is going-“ your girlfriend pushed you back against the wall, her ‘kiss me’ tattoo right beside your head.

“‘what’s going on’? i don’t know—maybe you should tell me what was going on back there.” your previous words stuck in your throat at clementine’s aggressive tone.

you were trapped between wallpaper and narrowed eyes… and a shift in atmosphere. your mind replayed moments back at zabaltazar’s flat, but at no point could you recall doing anything wrong, really!

“what are you talking about, clem?” you furrowed your brows, trying to compete against her furious expression… although there was an obvious dominant side and you were sinking into your place underneath her gaze.

her voice box let out, what you’ve come to known as, a robotic scoff. and the pixels on her screen half-circled to simulate rolling her eyes.

“don’t play dumb with me—you saw exactly how they were treating you… like they wanted you all to themselves.” clem leaned in and before you could object, she placed a cold finger on your bottom lip to shut you up.

“did you want that too? wanted my friends to all have their way with you?” her voice lowered and she moved her hand down from your mouth, pushing up your shirt to rest on your bare waist; you shuddered at her cold metal.

“of course not, clem! i’m yours!” you held her head in your palms, looking at her with the most sincere expression.

she smiled, but it wasn’t her usual soft upturn of blue pixels she’d normally do when you said something like that. her eyes half-lidded and it seemed more as though you amused her with what you said more than anything. and suddenly, you felt like unbeknownst prey to a hungry lion.

“i know, baby. that’s why i’m gonna have to make you remember that.”

the companion shoved her knee between your legs and you sharply gasped at the unexpected friction. your hands that cupped her facial frame went stiff and eventually moved down to her shoulders to keep yourself stable.

clementine used the hand that was on your waist to push your hips back and forth. each grind against her metal had you lightly panting and at some point you started bucking your hips yourself—completely forgetting how this even started.

“i’m sure those guys would kill to see you like this… it’s too bad they’re not here to do it themselves.” she pushed her knee further into your cunt and watched as your back arched away from the wall.

you shook your head, finding it hard to talk like this, and clementine tilted her screen to mock you, still with that entertained look. “no… m’only want you, clem..”

“is that right? didn’t seem that way when you were practically begging momo to keep touching you.” and with that remembrance, albeit a little over-exaggerated, clementine’s previous annoyance and anger returned.

with an idea laced with malice and spite, she pulled her knee away. hearing you whine, almost whimper, for a piece of her back was something to behold; it certainly sent a wave of electricity through her mainframe, hearing you so needy just for her.

she would never let her friends get a chance to hear it.

“wait—please, don’t stop.”

she shushed you, cupping your chin to look up at her. “you want me?” she quizzed, looking you up and down; god, you already looked a mess… and just from her knee?

you nodded a slightly too frantic ‘yes’ and clem dropped her hand from your face, “then tell me how bad you need me, hm?”

oh, so that’s what it was.

clementine was jealous.

you scolded yourself for not noticing it sooner, as obvious as it was.

your girlfriend felt threatened—she was never any good at sharing. and now you thought back to earlier, how pissed she must’ve been seeing the rest of her group give you so much attention; you wondered how badly she wanted to dismantle the whole party for the way they were treating you.

you could see it all now—her patience slowly dropping with each affectionate action you were given. and a picture of steam visibly wafting from her vents materialized in your mind.

a heat burning between your legs and a guilt for not taking in account clem’s feelings decided that you couldn’t deny her her request—not like you had much of a choice anyways.

your cheeks burned at the bot’s awaiting eyes and clementine reminded you just how badly you wanted her by sneaking a hand to the curve of your ass.

“god, i need you so bad, clem!” you rubbed your legs together, with a little hope she wouldn’t notice (oh, she noticed). “i need you to fuck me—i need you to fuck me like i’m only yours.”

you grabbed at her arm, positioning it to sit on your inner thigh. clementine looked at you as if you were the most pitiful thing there was, and by the desperation in your voice, you probably were.

“i don’t want those guys, baby—i want you… please.”

she squeezed your thigh, a satisfied look in her eyes. “jump up.” is all she said and you knew exactly what she wanted. you used her shoulders for support as you hopped up and hugged your legs around her torso. she held onto the flesh of your ass and set you on the kitchen counter.

“oh, pretty girl, m’ gonna **** you so dumb you’ll forget the names momo, doc, and ******* baltazar.”

and just like she promised, she wasted no time pushing aside your skirt and shoving down your panties. cold, metallic fingers already swiping your slit, ripping a guttural moan from your throat.

you made a compelling case, clementine didn’t hold her jealousy against you. but every time she thought back on your time at the flat, she couldn’t get the image of you being gushed over by her friends out of her head.

now she wished the outsiders were here, standing at the door of her apartment… watching with wide eyes as clementine fucks you so good, you’re chanting her name like a broken record.

“oh, ah! clem!”

yeah, just like that.

the image of you sopping wet on a wooden counter with your companion girlfriend’s fingers rubbing against your cunt was utterly obscene. your pretty, little panties hung at your feet and two arms looped around a robotic neck; clementine’s body situated between your legs to keep you wide open and you were overheating far more than her computer head could ever.

“god, you’re dripping—and just from me. just for me.” she whirled, which was almost like a robotic purr.

your legs were absolutely shaking and you couldn’t keep your mouth from being agape. eyebrows furrowed and eyes closed; there was a sheen of sweat glossing your skin, which clementine has always thought was pretty—like glass (she has no idea why humans do it).

she put a finger underneath your chin, guiding it up for you to face her. “look at me, baby.” she cooed, head tilted with those same lidded pixels and smile—though, she stared at you much more in adoration this time… with a little lace of self-pride.

you were hers, just hers. just her little crybaby with wet, fat tears in your eyes. just her’s to fuck.

and while the other outsiders probably stroked themselves to the thought of you hopped up on a table, crying for them—she got to actually see it.

just her.

clementine just stared at you for a moment, forcing you to stare right back. and she smiled a little wider at the sight of you so desperately trying to keep those little eyelids open for her—because she said to.

and then she stopped.

she stopped her movements, stopped her artificial thumb from circling your clit, stopped her two other fingers from keeping your pussy open.

oh, and you whined. whined at the loss of her.

that picture of her friends watching her fuck you returned. they would be mortified. mortified at seeing you being undone by someone who’s not them. they would beg for a chance to be the ones who make you cry like that.

and she would just glance at them, with a boastful smile.

she stayed like that for too many seconds, you thought. just watching you, watching you squirm to get back that contact.

and then, all at once, she stuffed her large fingers into your puffy cunt, seeing your face contort in pleasure. and she pumped them in and out and in and out.

you were sure her hand was just as wet as you were.

the hotboxed room was filled with lewd squelching noises, noises she wanted more of, and your moans and whimpers.

her’s, her’s, her’s.

not doc’s, not momo’s, not zabaltazar’s.

her’s—clementine’s.

“could momo **** you like this?” her voice box warbled, smothered in envy, selfishness.

“you think any of the other outsiders could make you fall apart like i can?”

oh, god, and how badly you were falling apart—like she broke you down brick by brick until you were nothing but puddy in her big, big hands.

she slightly smushed your cheeks; your sweet, pitiful face drenched in those hot tears.

could you even respond? your voice would definitely be gone the next morning.

“no, clem! o..only you!” you practically cried.

pixelized eyes full of possessiveness, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say she was smirking.

she laughed, a bitter and mocking laugh.

“that’s right, baby, only me.”

only clementine.

[shiningwonho]

that background sure is pretty

[tyonfs]

home alone with you (preview)

❝ there are criminals in the house, jisung! there’s no time to feed the cat! ❞

PAIRING ▸ park jisung x fem!reader (ft. yumark robbing your house)

GENRES ▸ fluff, crack, friends to lovers, home alone au, rich kid au

WARNINGS ▸ low iq, mild violence but for comedic purposes, seemingly unrequited love but it’s actually requited they’re both just stupid

SUMMARY ▸ a vacation with your family and the parks goes haywire when you and jisung are accidentally left behind at your house. all you wanted to do was confess your feelings to park jisung on christmas, but in an unfortunate turn of events, you have to deal with your cowardly best friend and two crooks trying to rob your home.

PLAYLIST ▸ all i want for christmas is you by mariah carey • christmassy! by the boyz

RELEASE DATE ▸ TBA (hopefully around jisung day!)

WORD COUNT ▸ around 5k words

TAG LIST ▸ @infnteen @jaehy9ngs @ridinhyuck @chubbsdabunny @fightmegirl @kiri-ah @prettyjaems @honeyju @neo-stay @kariskwn @marknolee @tacojisung @choerriesmotion

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ hello! this is sort of a late christmas present because inspiration struck out of the blue last night when i was watching the movie. send me an ask if you wanna be added to the tag list !! the preview is a shortened version and may be changed up in the final version btw!

IT WASN’T LIKE YOU WERE EVER NEGLECTED BY YOUR PARENTS OR ANYTHING, SO THIS WAS ABSURD TO YOU.

Forgetting one kid was one matter, but forgetting two? You wondered if you had the rights to never let your parents or Jisung’s parents live this royal fuck-up down.

Rather than being angry, you found this whole situation hilarious and slightly offended that your parents didn’t think to check if you were there during the car ride to the airport. Maybe they were stressed and trying to micromanage all of your cousins and your younger siblings, but you didn’t think you were that easy to miss. Hopefully, they had realized by now and were reflecting on their actions, but now you had to deal with being alone in your house with your best friend.

“Jisung,” you whispered harshly. When he didn’t stir, you resorted to throwing a pillow at him. “Park Jisung!”

Jisung groaned, pulling his blanket over him and shifting on the air mattress. “Five more minutes.”

Frustrated, you threw another pillow at him. “Jisung, everyone’s gone.”

He shot up in place, rubbing the sleep from his eyes promptly. “Gone? You’re joking, right?” He hauled himself up and stretched out his back. “Don’t scare me like that, Y/N.”

“Jisung,” you said, eyes sharp as you turned your laptop for him to see. “They’re not in the house and the flight left thirty minutes ago. They left us behind.”

Jisung boggled at the screen, kneeling down to get a better look. “No.” His jaw hung open while he stared at the pixelated flight moving across the world map. “Shut the fuck up. Tell me this is some sick joke.”

“I’ve tried calling them but it keeps going to voicemail,” you said, shutting your laptop. “We’re screwed, Jisung.”

“What do we do?” Jisung asked solemnly and then flinched at the sound of the doorbell. “Is that them?” he asked, looking like a dog who had just been given a treat.

“If it was, they wouldn’t need to ring the doorbell.” You pushed yourself off of your bed and made your way to the front door. “Come on.”

Jisung followed behind you, looking a bit wary of whoever was ringing your door. You looked through the peephole to see a man in a police uniform and furrowed your brows. Did your parents call them to inform you that they would be back soon? You opened the door, looking up at the policeman who started looking around your home before he looked at you.

“Um, can I help you?” you asked.

The man flashed a seemingly trustworthy smile but it just made you suspicious. “Just making sure everyone’s staying safe this Christmas with all of those robberies happening around the neighborhood,” he said. “Say, kid, where are your parents?”

Jisung scoffed from behind you. “Left us—”

You elbowed him sharply in the gut, rousing a wince from him. “They’ll be back, officer,” you replied. “They’re out buying Christmas decorations.”

“On Christmas Eve? A bit late for that, huh?”

“Well, late’s better than never!” you chirped, hand firmly on the doorknob. “Happy holidays then, officer.”

After he returned the greeting, you closed the door and locked it. You stared down at the doorknob for a second and then put the chain lock on as well, a small frown crossing your lips. Jisung took notice immediately and placed his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, “I just got a weird vibe from that guy.”

Jisung shrugged. “Well, we’re safe in your house and our parents are landing late afternoon so we just need to wait until then to hear from them.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” you breathed out, relaxing your nerves.

You couldn’t help but feel guilty for finding this situation to be perfect. If you and Jisung were stuck at your house alone, it made for the perfect opportunity for you to tell him how you felt about him tomorrow. There would be no distractions, no annoying siblings, and no overbearing parents.

“Y/N,” Jisung started, a grin tugging at his lips, “you know what this means, right?”

“We can do whatever we want?”

“Exactly.”

“Yuta, that plan of yours to dress up like a police officer was genius!” Mark praised, looking absolutely elated as he watched the crook take off the fake badge.

“Leave it to a few rich kids to blindly trust the police,” Yuta remarked with a cocky smirk. “And, Mark, get this: they’re alone in there.”

“Alone?”

“Yeah, their parents are gone,” Yuta explained. “The boy gave it away but the girl was trying to cover for him, so I’m thinking we should rob them tonight while their parents are out.”

Mark looked uneasy but nodded along. “Is it really okay for us to just break in with them inside?”

Yuta rolled his eyes, pulling his unmarked van out of their parking lot and onto the road. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as he drove out of the neighborhood. He knew better than most that the people in this neighborhood only cared about themselves. They wouldn’t waste their breath if they noticed something suspicious going on.

“Trust me, Mark,” Yuta said. “It’s a piece of cake to get past kids like them.”

[sinisterlyhan]

04. hyunjin ; hyunsung /  6067 words

incubus!hyunsung, oral (m receiving), female reader, unprotected sex, shower sex, semi public sex (almost getting caught oops), a little bit of daddy kink, a little fluff at the end

parts: 01 ; 02 ; 03

your fingers lightly tapped on the mouse pad of your laptop, your eyes squinting carefully at the screen as you enlarge the photo printed on it. the summoning glyph showed in a pixelated format, it was blurry but you could still make out the little details.

holding up your laptop, you slid off your bed and went around so you could check out the white sheet you had laid out on the space in your room.

you used the same red paint you did last time when you summoned jisung, and you were fairly sure you followed the picture correctly when you drew it minutes ago. glancing between the symbol on your sheet and the one on your computer, you couldn’t find a single mistake you could have made.

so why hasn’t hyunjin showed up? you chanted the spell right, you did it three times just to make sure you’ve got backup. it has almost been twenty minutes now and he was still nowhere in your room.

you were hoping you could call him up to spend some time with him. as amazing as it was with jisung last time, you still couldn’t shake the guilt in your chest that you had left him out of the fun. not that you believed hyunjin particularly missed your presence or anything, even though jisung told you that both of them did miss you last time he stopped by.

either way, you needed a reason to summon him that didn’t pertain to you wanting to see him, or fuck him, or anything along the lines of those. as if those boys haven’t been all you thought about lately.

it was like your mind gets hornier with each encounter with those two boys, and so far there has only been two! both of them mind-blowing as well!

you’ve done things you never thought you would, you’ve made noises and said words so inappropriate that your innocent mind still blushes when you recall them, and you have fanaticized about them so much in your own time that it was starting to take your attention away from other things.

the way they kept leaving you wanting more and more of them was beyond anything you have expected from yourself. you didn’t hate it, it was just unexpected and you were often shy of sudden things.

“oh, why are you so lame?” you accused yourself with a grimace, balancing your laptop on one hand while your other reached up to rub your forehead. “maybe he’s busy. you aren’t the only person summoning him.”

or perhaps he was mad at you for leaving him out last time. but you had prepared an explanation to why you didn’t summon him as well so there should be no grudge held against that problem.

or, what if he changed his mind? what if he suddenly stopped liking you? that could be a possibility, one that would make a lot of sense and one that you would expect too, to be truthful.

you pursed your lips together then, your eyes furrowing as you placed your laptop on your desk. your head hammered against your thoughts, an unsettling feeling surfacing in your chest as your mind started to spiral down a self-deprecating path.

you were unsure when you started to feel like this, this tightening feeling in your chest whenever a negative thought appeared has never happened before. you were often so susceptible to the damage of your own insecurity now that you were suddenly denying it made you felt uneasy.

but a part of you wanted desperately to hold onto the hope that it could be possible for the two demons to really care for you just as you are, just like how they have shown to be on certain occasions.

“oh, stop worrying,” you muttered to yourself as you shut your laptop and glanced down at the white sheet. you heaved a sigh, looking around your room for any signs of the blond-haired boy, and when you found none, your shoulders dropped in faint disappointment.

moving away from your desk, you went into your closet and fished inside for a towel before holding it on your forearm. your mind was telling you to take a hot shower, let it clean your head and calm you down for a moment before you start worrying again.

you could try summoning him again later. it’d be a bonus if you smell nice when he shows up too, something you had read online that it could be pretty appealing.

with that in mind, you open the door to your room and left for the bathroom just down the hall. after just a few whiles of you turning on the showerhead, the same black portal appeared in the midst of your room and, as per usual, hyunjin morphed from the substance and landed on the ground.

he gave himself a moment to adjust to the sight of your room.

an opened textbook laid on your desk with your laptop beside it. that was the second time he’s seen that book, and just like last time, he could feel your stress all over the material. your worst subject, he assumed.

a new mattress, he recognized, and you’ve got yourself a new hamster plushie laid at the pillow. he grimaced slightly—those damn cheeks reminded him of han jisung, who absolutely did not hesitate to let his tongue slip when he hinted on sharing some alone time with you.

cheeky bastard. whatever, it didn’t matter. he would just have to make you forget all about him when his turn comes. and it seemed that his calling has finally arrived.

the white sheet on the ground took up most of the space, as well as his attention. you had been trying to summon him, and he heard you. he just wasn’t able to leave immediately because he was with somebody else, but hell, when he heard you say his name after so long—it was like his chest got struck by lightning, a sense of thrill washing over him.

all he wanted to do was finish off quickly so he could go find you. his eyes closing as he chased his high, the image of your face coming in quick flashes across his mind.

looking around himself, hyunjin snapped out of his thoughts and it finally came to light that you weren't in your room. he raised his brow, confused. he was sure you called his name, there was even proof of the ritual being set up on the floor, yet somehow you weren't anywhere in your room.

spinning around, his eyes slightly widened at your opened door, revealing the hallway outside. a short hum escaped his lips as he approached it and poked his head outside. the apartment was empty but it didn't feel so. and he could smell a waft of coconut shampoo in the air, one that he had sniffed out on several other ladies these past weeks as well.

they were never as appealing as you, for some reason. there was just something special about the coconut smell blending in so well with your personal scent, the sugary honey smell a perfect mixture with the shampoo you used. the smell accentuates at the crook of your neck, he vividly remembered, and he loved it so much.

shoving his hands into his pants, hyunjin stepped a foot out of your room. he looked around, his hair framing over his jaw prettily as he did so, and with a sharp left turn, he walked down the end of the hall where the smell came from.

his steps came to an abrupt stop before the locked bathroom. he glared at the wooden pattern printed on top, his eyes grazing past the lines as if he could see inside. then they landed on the metal doorknob, the key to the other side, the only thing keeping you away from him now.

he reached a hand out for the knob, but before his slender fingers could touch the roundness, the lock clicked and you swung it open with ease. you took a quick step back when you found a person standing at the bathroom door, and you huffed out a relieved sigh when you saw that it was hyunjin.

"oh–you scared me, hyunjin!" you exclaimed, placing a hand over your chest as you huffed out a laugh.

"i did?" he eyed up at your startled expression, amusement and a hint of longing rushing up to his smirk as he stood up straight. he tilted his head, a piece of his hair falling over his eyes as he blatantly checked you out.

"well, yeah, i was just taking a shower and–" you paused with furrowed brows, unsure why his eyes were gazing you up and down before your cheeks reddened suddenly.

right, you were just taking a shower. and since you did not expect anyone to be inside the house when you would be done, you had only brought a towel along with you. and now you stood before hyunjin, with only a towel wrapped around your body and slightly wet hair tied up into a loose bun.

seeing the blush on your face, he chuckled under his breath and took a step closer to you. his eyes softened with lust, his finger moving up to tug a piece of hair behind your ear. it slowly dragged down the side of your face, and then down your neck, across your collarbones, and it stopped to rub circles on your shoulder.

ahh, your skin was much softer after being rained down by steamy droplets. and he wondered how much better it could feel with water rolling down your body.

"what are you blushing for, doll?" he hummed lowly, his tone shoved with a hint of smugness in it. "it's nothing i haven't seen nor touched before."

"i know." your voice came out rather squeaky, much more than you'd like.

"you know?" he said, the sentence not intending to be a question but you nodded in response anyway. he smiled faintly then, his fingers finally gripping hold of your shoulder, causing you to hold down a breath.

it was somewhat strong, not strong enough to hurt but definitely enough to make a point. but you weren't so sure what he was trying to say yet. was he annoyed? was he disappointed? did he miss you too much? you haven't the slightest idea.

you stumbled back when hyunjin moved, walking you back into the bathroom until he reached his free hand over and closed the door behind him. his hand found the knob and swiftly clicked the lock shut, his eyes glimmering at the sound.

the bathroom was steamy, almost suffocating with the hot water heat it was previously filled with. the humidity made his clothes stick to his body, and the limited air surrounding you both only fueled his desire to take you even more.

hyunjin stared into your eyes intently, his gaze shifted ever so slightly down to your lips before it returned to your eyes again. he was leaning closer and closer, his waist bending down as his one arm circled around your back to pull you closer to him. your noses touched, causing your breath to quicken in anticipation at the long-awaited kiss.

"then do you know how much i've missed you?" he asked, his hot breath hitting your skin before he finally closed the distance between you two.

hyunjin let out a soft breath through his chest. he was able to immediately melt against you, his hand bringing you closer to him unconsciously. his lips moved carefully against yours to savor this moment he had been longing for since the day he left your side.

it just felt different, better; he has been on edge kissing somebody else for weeks, not that he has any choice regarding that problem. being able to close his eyes knowing he is touching your lips and nobody else's is reliving.

the desperation seeping into his gentleness made the kiss all the better for you. it was wrapped around you, from the way he leaned onto your lips and the way he pressed at the small of your back, his neediness wrapped around your body like a cocoon.

when he pulled away, you could barely open your eyes to look at him. your cheeks were flushed and your chest heaving against the confines of your towel, your bulging breasts a vivid reminder of his hardened member under his pants.

"do you have any idea how badly i've needed you these weeks?" he whispered, his hand running up your sides before his fingertip ran along the soft surface of your squished up breasts.

you let out a soft sigh, your eyes fluttering shut when he dove down to your neck, his lips soft against your skin. the hickeys jisung left recently have faded already, much to your surprise, and here hyunjin was planting new ones by biting and sucking on your neck.

if those two keep it up like this, you'd actually have to start learning how to cover your neck up without using a sweater or a scarf.

as you relaxed against the way he kissed down your collarbones and shoulders, hyunjin's hands slid around your waist before reaching up to the hem of your towel. you released your hand, letting him unwrap the knot you've tightened to the side and slipping the towel onto the floor.

his hand quickly found its way to your breasts, palming over the perky roundness with his cold hands and sending a shiver down your spine. your toes curled lightly, your feet raising up to a tip-toe when he leaned down to take your boob in his mouth, sucking on your nipple before biting on it.

he pulled away with his eyes focused on your face, his gaze a soundless laugh when you briefly glanced down to find your nipple being pulled between his teeth. it bounced back to your chest when he released his grip, his tongue flicking out to soothe over the spot as you moaned at the feeling.

"hyunjin." you didn't have anything to say, you just felt like saying his name. it was tasteful against your tongue, a name you were willing to repeat over and over again like a maniac.

"hmm?" he hummed lightly, his hands roaming down your stomach and your hips before they finally reached your wet core.

you whimpered at the feeling of his hand against your heat, his palm covering most of the area and the heel of it rubbing against your sensitive clit. he slid his hand up, his fingers slowly gliding past your slit and meeting your hole for a brief moment. dipping the tip of his finger in, hyunjin chuckled in dark delight at the slickness of your insides.

"you're so wet, doll," he said, straightening up but his fingers lingered at your heat. as you licked your lower lip, unguarded, he took the chance to slip his middle finger inside and felt you immediately clench around him. "i wonder why."

"is it because of me? were you playing with yourself in the shower earlier?" he asked, slowly pumping his finger in and out of you, you breathy moans a melodic song to him. "or were you thinking of somebody else in there, hmm?"

your eyes rounded for a second, his words barely processing in your brain. "wh–what?"

"don't act dumb, doll," he said, casually dipping his ring finger inside your heat. he smirked when you trembled, your back arching forward into him. "a little birdie told me that you had some alone time with somebody else."

interesting. was that jealousy you sensed? it felt less like disappointment, which jisung had exuded last time. hyunjin was being much more... passive-aggressive about it, like he was more annoyed and competitive than sad.

you could be overthinking it, though. you could be overestimating the power you have over him.

hyunjin looked at you when you opened your mouth to speak. no words were spoken, mainly because you didn't know what to say to him. he scoffed with a roll of his eyes; well, now he knew jisung wasn't lying just to rile him up. somehow part of him still desperately hoping he was.

"you hurt my feelings, baby doll. was he better than me?" he faked a pout, curling his fingers in your heat and gathering up your essence to create a loud squelch.

you moaned, your face red from the moment. what a question, how could you possibly answer that? either answer would end up getting one of them upset, and you've experienced how things could be when they're upset.

you could still feel the leather around your neck.

"don't go tongue-tied on me now," hyunjin said, his voice rising. he pulled his hand out of your cunt and dragged them up along your clean body. "i still need that tongue of yours to work."

they met your mouth, slathering your juices all around your lips as he roughly pressed against its surface.

his brows raised in bliss at the mere sight of your half-lidded eyes. your head tilted up at him as he pried your mouth open to rub his fingers all over your tongue, forcing you to taste yourself on his fingers. he sighed gently, watching the saliva string in your mouth.

"i'm–i'm sorry," you said then, your teeth grazing past his fingers as you opened your eyes at him. "i was going to summon you too but jisung stopped me."

"and you let him?" he said, raising a brow.

"i–" you pursed your lips together in dismay, your brows furrowing. "yeah... i did."

hyunjin nodded, his gaze turning solemn for a moment before the elegance returned. he could tell you felt bad, for whatever reason it was. and he liked that you did. he wasn't fond of jisung having you all to himself, the idea itself made his skin burn, so to know that you did slightly regret not inviting him made him over the moon.

"i'm sorry," you said meekly, giving him a faint smile as you reached up to hold his cheek. "i summoned you today hoping to make up for it, but it took you so long to arrive."

"yes." he nodded. "i was laying with another."

the dimming of lights that flickered across your eyes made him less giddy than he expected. you weren't sure why it was affecting you so much, you knew when you summoned them that you wouldn't be the only person with their names on the on-call list, and you have come to terms with that.

it's just... hearing him say it out loud forces you to admit it. and you had wanted to drown in your ignorance for a little longer.

"you upset, hmm?" hyunjin said, tracing his fingertip down your face. "then you can imagine my disappointment when jisung told me how good he fucked you the other day."

"yeah..." you nodded. "sorry."

"i think i'm gonna need more than just a verbal apology, doll."

you held in a breath, knowing exactly what he meant. your heart hammered strongly against your chest, not that you were in any way opposed to the idea but that you were unsure in your ability to meet his standards. you have never actually sucked someone off before, the last times it happened you were mainly restrained or controlled. all you needed to do was keep your mouth open.

however, despite the nervousness, you looked up at hyunjin for a brief moment, finding his gaze encouraging as you slowly dropped down on your knees.

hyunjin watched with hooded eyes, the anticipation swarming in his head overshadowed by the lust present in his eyes. he couldn't break now, he needed to put a front to assert his dominance, even though the sight of your bright eyes trembling as you fumbled with his belt was just so distracting.

his pants fell to the ground after you pulled them down, and your eyes slightly widened at the bulge underneath his boxer. your hand flew to touch it delicately, jumping when hyunjin hissed at the feeling.

"doll," he said pointedly, looking down at you.

you hummed knowingly, your hands tugging at the waistband of his boxer before ridding it as well. your eyes shut when his cock sprung out, your head leaning back slightly to avoid being hit in the face with it. and you blushed when you heard him laugh from above.

pouting slightly, you returned your attention to him and your hand reached over to grab ahold of his shaft. his girth surprised you, the fill of your hand quite a grabby touch to it, and you squeezed your fingers around him once to earn a reaction.

hyunjin shut his eyes, a soft grunt leaving him. he liked that, good.

alright, just concentrate and don't overthink it. you know the general gist of how to do this at least. just do what you have done in your imagination, nothing too hard about that!

you pumped him a few times, your hand gliding up and down as you flicked your wrist to go in a twisty motion. you repeated the motion for a while, gathering his pre-cum and lubing him up until you felt his dick was wet enough, then you finally took him in your mouth.

hyunjin breathed out when he felt your lips wrap around his tip, your tongue brushing along the lines of it as you eyed up at him in uncertainty, your mouth gently sucking his tip to giving him a little pull.

his heart stuttered at your wide eyes, asking for permission of sorts to move, and he could only manage to give you an encouraging smile.

your lips quirked a little in a grin before you took him further into your mouth, your hands covering the parts your mouth didn't reach. you bobbed your head along his length, your tongue lapping at his skin and running with its tip pressed against his shape. every time you tried to suck in, a slurping sound emits from you.

hyunjin continuously let out soft grunts of pleasure. your mouth was just as warm as he remembered, those slurping sounds and little pops of you leaving his tip adding as a bonus to what he couldn't hear last time.

and as usual, there was just something about it being you and no anyone else that really got him going. it prompted him to lose control, but he wanted to wait, he wanted you to please him instead of him controlling you to do so.

"baby doll, you can go all the way," he said, challenged almost, as he glanced down at you. his hand ran through your hair and he rubbed your head, this thumb pressing against your scalp when you licked his tip in thoughts.

you could. you would gag a lot, but you could. the last time you did it was because they had shoved it down your throat, but you supposed you could do it on your own as well. removing yourself from his cock, a string of saliva connecting your mouth with his tip, and you caught your breath before taking him in your mouth again.

your held in your breath, your lips pressed tightly against the skin of his shaft as you took him in slowly. your tongue flapped, touching his cock mindlessly and unpredictably, giving hyunjin a sheer thrill. he moaned loudly when you gagged after his tip hit your throat, the inside of your mouth moving in an attempt to get him out of you.

the saliva was gathering inside but you couldn't swallow them normally, so you didn't bother. you pulled away slowly and moved back in, letting his dick meet the entrance of your throat with each agonizingly slow bob of your head. and he could feel your mouth getting wetter and wetter by the second, your saliva gathering at your lips and threatening to drip out.

"shit, ahh, keep going," he muttered, tugging at your hair before letting go.

fuck, he was getting close. you were adjusting to the feeling and have started to move faster along his cock, the full, sucking sound mixing in with your wet slurps a symphony to his ears.

feeling his dick twitch inside your mouth, his thighs flexing as they wobbled slightly, hyunjin's hand flew to your head and he pushed you against him, making his tip touch brush against your throat again. you whined at the sudden force, your eyes widening as your hands curled into fists at your lap.

hyunjin's moan spluttered out of his mouth, his gaze hardened as he felt his high coming up. before he could release, he pulled out of your mouth and pumped himself a few times. his cum sprouted out of his tip, landing messily on your face and melting in with your drool.

you were startled at the sight, your eyes closing at the substance that touched your face. when you opened your eyes again, hyunjin was already pulling you up by your arm and pulling you to the side where the shower was.

"good girl, turn on the water and i'll join you in a second," he said.

you did as he told, stepping into the cold tiles and immediately turning the showerhead on. the hot water took a while to come out, and when they did you gathered them up in your hands and splashed your face with it.

hyunjin appeared from behind, soundless as a ghost, and you gasped when he wrapped his hand around your waist to bring you back against his chest. oh, he took his clothes off, understandably. you were just surprised since it was always you who got fully naked the last two times.

"hey..." you greeted timidly, turning around to face him.

hyunjin smiled faintly, his eyes trailing past your features and your skin. ahh, he knew it. you looked just as ethereal with steamy droplets rolling down your shoulders, like a goddess coming straight out of the holy pond.

"have i ever told you how beautiful you look?" he impulsively asked, his hand roaming to your back and trailing up your spine.

you panicked with a shake of your head, the compliment was so unexpected and hard to believe that the only thing you could say was, "what, no, no! you're beautiful, you're so pretty!"

he paused, frozen up. his heart pumped against his chest, threatening to tear open his ribcage so it could land closer to you. the way you complimented him, not in the least seductive, just purely out of sincerity. it wasn't to spice up the mood or to gain something in return, you just wanted to tell him he's pretty.

and it was so endearing, hyunjin couldn't think of anything else. he just blanked out. and he couldn't find it for the life of him how you managed to make him fall for you just like this.

"hyunjin? are you okay–mmm," you cut off with your eyes shut tightly when he captured your lips.

he was rougher than usual, his lips moving quickly against yours as he pushed your back up against the wall. the water splashed over his head, making it stick to the back of his neck, and his body was warm all over from the heat.

you sighed against his mouth, melting into his embrace as your hands went up to his neck so you could wrap your arms around him. a gasp left your lips when you felt his member poking at your inner thigh, and you pulled away with a slight whine.

"hyunjin," you called, opening your eyes to see his droplet filled face. your eyes could barely open with the shower head pouring water at your face, but even then you could make out his divine features. "hyunjin, i need you, please."

"you need me?" he whispered, his breath hitching in his throat.

you looked at him, your lashes fluttering as you glanced down at his lips before you kissed him once, sweetly. when you pulled away, you nodded. "yeah, i need you."

something tells him it doesn't only apply to sexual pleasure. he hoped he was right.

"jump," he instructed then, his hands going down to grip your thighs. pushing you up against the wall, the water dripping down your chest now and your head just before the waterfall, he positioned himself at your entrance.

you back arched off the wall, your head rolling up as you whimpered at the stretch. he slowly pushed himself in, stopping when he was in at the hilt so you could adjust to his size. and when you hit the back of his neck a few times to urge him to move, he finally started to roll his hips against yours.

fuck, this was heavenly. there was something about the water, the additional wetness that made this feel all the better. the pitter-patter of the water a prickly sensation aside from the way he moved against your walls.

he was kissing you everywhere his lips could land. messily, longingly, desperately—his lips trailed all over your jaw, your collarbones, your shoulders, and your chest. and you clawed at his back, your nails digging into his skin as he relentlessly thrust into your incredibly tight cunt.

"oh fuck–hyunjin! ahh–" you moved closer to him, your legs tightening around his waist when his tip brushed against your sweet spot. "shit, yes!"

"mmhm, good girl, keep saying my name," he grunted.

he pinned your back against the wall, using that as leverage so he could roam a hand around your body, the other at your hip to hold up your body. he breathed out a sigh when his hand reached your abdomen, feeling his shape fainting bulging at your tummy.

ugh, you're so small! such a delicate little thing, he was tearing you apart so easily. if only you were sane enough to notice how you were acting from the way he pounded into you, you could have heard yourself pleading and begging for more, you could have sensed yourself hopelessly bucking your hips forward for more.

you could feel your high approaching, your moans gradually tuning louder and more rapid the more he slammed at your g-spot. but before you could start trembling into cloud nine, a loud knock sounded at the door and you turned over with eyes wide in alert.

hyunjin slowed down and turned off the showerhead, his brows furrowing in annoyance at the intrusion.

"hey, baby girl? are you okay in there?"

your jaw dropped. why is your father home? you turned to hyunjin, your fingers tightening around his shoulders as you eyed him to shut up before looking back towards the direction of his voice.

"hey dad! i'm fine, just dropped the soap! please leave!" you yelled out, your face starting to flush when hyunjin decided to slowly ride into you anyways. you glared at him, and he only shrugged.

"okay, be careful!" your father said from outside the door. "your mom's department manager invited us to have dinner with the crew today so we won't be home until late tonight, alright?"

"ye–yeah!" you squealed at a particularly harsh thrust as if hyunjin was calculating the moment you'd speak and just waiting for the time to mess you up.

"i put money on the table for you, just get some takeout and be good at home, okay?"

"i'll be fine! see yo–ahh!" you clamped a hand over your mouth, your eyes widening as you blushed at the sound hyunjin just pushed out of you.

"are you sure you're okay, baby girl?"

hyunjin smirked, enjoying this moment way too much. "oh, sir, your baby girl is doing more than okay," he hummed out, his hips bucking into yours continuously. "aren't you, hmm? tell him you're doing great, doll."

your chest panted as you looked weakly at him, then you turned your head so you could give a quick response. "fine! just go, i'm–taking a shower!"

you waited a few moments after your father left the door, calculating the time needed for him to head back outside and leave the front door.

hyunjin raised a brow, sighing slightly at your worried expression. "he left, i can hear the door click."

you exhaled in relief before lightly hitting him across the chest, a pout permanent on your face. "what was that? my dad could have heard me!"

"aww, aren't you a good little girl?" he laughed as he slowly dropped you to the ground.

you looked him, confused and feeling empty at the loss of his girth. hyunjin smiled at you, then he suddenly opened the shower curtains, revealing the glass mirrors on the other side of the small bathroom, he quickly reached back for you and slipped himself into you from behind.

you watched your jaw drop, a pornographic moan flying out of your lips when he threw his sanity to the wind and started to thrust up against you. your breasts bounced with each movement and your legs trembled at the slams, his hand having to hold you up by the waist.

"look at yourself, baby doll. look at how much you're loving my cock," hyunjin hummed at your ear, his hand gripping your jaw and yanking your head down to look at the mirror. he was smiling sinisterly, his eyes a blaze of redness. "daddy's little girl isn't so naive anymore."

"fuck–hyunjin, i have to–i'm gonna come," you exclaimed, your back arching more with each thrust, feeling your sensitive spot being punched repeatedly. and your face, your fucked out face—why did you find this appealing?

"please–hyunjin, ahh!"

"mmhm." he grinned lowly, his lips pressed against your neck before they trailed up to your ear to whisper out a command. "cum, cum around daddy, baby girl."

your moan came out high-pitched and squeaky when you started dripping all over him, his words infiltrating your mind like a disease and spreading an unfamiliar bliss all over you. you were still drowned in the fading feeling when hyunjin took the chance to speed up his pace, his head buried at the crook of your neck until a strong groan left his lips.

he pulled out of your weak body, the white liquid oozing out of your pussy and dripping down your thighs.

looking at you, he smiled a little at your dazed expression. it looked like you were somewhat in deep thought, and he had an idea what it was about.

he planted kisses along your shoulders in an attempt to calm you down then, his hand gently rubbing at your tummy and patting against it.

"are you okay?" he asked softly, looking at you.

you snapped out of your thoughts then, the lights returning to your eyes as you processed his words. you nodded with a small smile. "yeah, yeah i am. just... surprised."

he giggled, turning you around so he could hug your warm body to him better. he turned the showerhead back on afterward and took it off the hook so he could carefully rain the water down on your body.

"found out you quite liked being called baby girl?" he asked, kissing your lashes.

you laughed. "i've always liked that. i just didn't know it would be... i didn't know i'd like it in that context as well."

"well," hyunjin started, shrugging, "you discovered something today!"

"i did, crazy," you said to yourself before looking up at him. "thank you, it was really nice today... and i hope you’re not too upset with me now...”

he could only smile down at you, watching your face with eyes so tender. if he spoke, the endearment piling up in his chest might overflow his words. but if him cleaning you up right now isn't any indication that he has very special feelings for you, he wasn't sure what is.

there was a hammering at the back of his head, and he ignored it so he could continue rubbing the shampoo over your body.

coconut, mixed in with your natural, loving scent—if he has a home then it'd smell like that, and he wouldn't want to go anywhere else.

[lluvguts]

extra sugar // reddie

pairing: modern! richie tozier / eddie kaspbrak

warnings: none!

word count: 1964

summary:  Richie has been going to the same coffee shop for a week now but the barista still won't get his name right.

Richie’s stomach did a little flip when he opened the cool glass door into the coffee shop. Not because of the menu, showcasing their outrageously priced drinks, but at the young barista behind the counter. Richie couldn’t seem to shake that jittery feeling, he got his coffee from the same place every morning and still that kind face smiling back at him sent a new shiver of want every time.

The first time they’d met was a week before. A Friday, filled with Richie scrambling to get his stand-up act written on time in the early hours in that secluded coffee shop before his theatre class started. Richie had noticed between sips of a sugary mocha latte that the barista was sneaking careful glances at his hunched, furiously typing frame from behind the bakery display case. An older woman had taken Richie’s order before he sat down, but that didn’t stop the younger boy from hiding behind the large glass of pastries so Richie might be led to believe he wasn’t staring. But today, it was him taking Richie’s order, like it had been ever since he’d decided to return for some good coffee over the weekend—and to see those warm brown eyes again.

The barista did a small wave, inviting Richie into the comforting blanket of coffee smells and churning espresso machines that he’d grown to appreciate. Richie’s wallet, however, was not as happy. Each drink was eight dollars or more.

When he’d stepped up to the register his heart did that annoying jumpstart again, almost surprised to see the familiar face. The name Eddie was written with a practiced hand on one of the pins tied to his apron, among other buttons and colorful patches. Of course he knew his name , but he’d never stopped to examine the array of shiny pins across his chest. Richie took note of the newest addition to Eddie’s pin collection: a rainbow pride flag nested under his name tag, its colors glinting bright and well, happily in the golden house light.

“What can I get you?” Eddie’s voice brought him out of his head. He flashed a grin, making Richie’s heart lose it. “The usual?”

“If by ‘usual’ you mean whatever sends me into heart failure the quickest, then yes ,” Riche replied, gaining enough of that on-stage confidence to smirk back, earning a blush from Eddie.

“How about I surprise you?” Eddie turned to the screen in front of him, punching in a few details to the order, giving Richie the perfect amount of time to realize how many freckles spanned across Eddie’s softened features. And maybe even imagine how delicate his fingers would have to be if he’d let his hands brush across those flushed cheeks. Or what else his long fingers could brush over...

Nope. He saved those thoughts for when his classes were over and for nights spent in bed alone, after rehearsing his lines while inhaling microwaved instant ramen. Not right now when he was standing in front of him.

They’d only made small talk at the register, and every time Richie’s hands touched Eddie’s to get his coffee (knowing now was really the only time to say something) his mouth wouldn’t open. He’d remain frozen in place, the only sign of life chugging through his sleepy system being his wide eyes as he read the name on the cup. Or rather, the misspelled name . He had been keeping track of Eddie’s butchered attempts at writing Richie Tozier, finding it to be a constructive use of his free time—and a wonderful reason to flirt back.

Just Rich. Chee. Mr. Toziér. Richi Tozeer.

At that point he wanted to yank the coffee cup from Eddie’s hands and write his own damn name for him. Just to have an excuse to see if his palms were calloused and weathered, or warm and plush like he fantasized them to be.

Richie dug into a pocket of his skinny jeans for his wallet. “Go ahead, surprise me. But extra sugar .” Eddie nodded at this but was still focused on the register.

“Roger that. I’ll bring it to your table,” Eddie said with a wink.

“Thanks Eds,” Richie said back and handed over the money. Eddie lost all of the teasing glint he’d had before, instead he fell into his repertoire of shy little smiles. He was flustered and Richie found it very adorable.

“Oh, it’s just Eddie.”

“I know, I just like seeing that look on your face.”

Eddie stiffened, ignoring the other customers waiting behind Richie. “ What look?”

He chuckled and went over to an empty couch. He plopped down with his backpack while Eddie scooped a shaky cup of coffee beans into a grinder, trying not to blush and look his way.

Richie watched Eddie make his drink, peering down the edge of the counter to see that despite the growing overcast outside he was wearing shorts—ones that hugged his upper thighs and made Richie curse him to the depths of hell for even thinking of wearing them. His mind started to go south so he quickly slipped his backpack over his lap to hide his excitement at the sight of Eddie crouching down to rummage for new coffee syrup in a low cupboard—it was a serious effort to tear his longing gaze away from those painfully visible legs. He got out his phone instead, opening up some mindless puzzle game with a pounding heart so he’d stop thinking about the stupid barista with the cute ass only a few feet away. But that stupid barista was all he could think about ever since he saw him...

A to-go cup was set before him on the little rustic table, followed by a voice. “Mind if I join you? I’m on my break.”

Richie stopped sorting bright, pixelated candies and looked up at Eddie’s hopeful smile and the waft of steam peeking out of the plastic coffee lid. Before he said anything back he turned the coffee cup around until he could see the name scrawled in sharpie.

“‘ Riche Tisher ?’ How are you further off than yesterday?” Richie laughed, then nearly choked. Written after this was a phone number. Eddie’s phone number.

Eddie shifted on his toes, blinking nervously at the floor. “I know your name. I just liked seeing your reaction every time. It was um, kinda cute.”

Richie cleared his throat and hoped his next words didn’t sound too idiotic. “ Oh . Well, thanks, I guess.” Richie made room on the couch then hesitantly lifted his backpack off his jeans to set it on the floor. He kept his eyes level with the table so he wasn’t too tempted to glance down at Eddie’s bare legs dangerously close to his. He screamed at himself to say something other than his default of: a flirty insult or half-heard blubbering, but Eddie pointed to the cup.

Richie almost visibly sighed in relief and reached for his drink. “What‘s in it?”

Eddie smirked. “Surprise, remember? You tell me.”

Richie stared at that shiny rainbow pin on Eddie’s apron as he took a sip, consumed with the sweetness of honey and lavender.

“It’s my favorite thing on our menu. And the least pricey,” Eddie said.

“Well that’s good, cause I’m going to go broke after all these coffees.”

Eddie pondered over this. “You do come here often. Do you live in the area?”

“Actually, I go to the college a few blocks down. But the dorms suck.”

Eddie’s brown eyes livened at that information. “What’s your major?”

“Performing Arts. I wanna do comedy, but for now I’m stuck doing acting.” Richie said and returned that interested stare.

“Yeah, the dorms really do suck.”

Suck was an understatement. Half the time Richie’s roommates only showed up at the crack of dawn, tripping over themselves they were so wasted, to collapse onto—usually—Richie’s available bed and wouldn’t move for the rest of the morning. Even if Richie was still under the covers, fighting to breathe under their immense weight.

“You go there too? How come I never see you?” Richie tried not to sound overly eager.

“I take night classes...So I can still work,” He said with a tentative smile.

His face fell. “Oh. Sorry, I don’t know why I didn’t realize that.”

“You know, to be a great comedian you have to be able to pay attention,” Eddie teased.

Richie had been paying attention, but maybe not to all the right things.

He exposed the side of the coffee cup with Eddie’s number on it. “Well, if I’ve been reading my audience, it looks like someone is trying to get me to call them.”

Eddie let his eyes wander to Richie’s backpack, where he too had a rainbow pride flag pinned to its front. His eyes widened and the color faithfully returned to his cheeks.

If Richie thought he had it bad, Eddie outshone his awkward attempts at conversation in the very attractive, breathless, asking-a-guy-out category. “Yeah, you definitely hit the mark on that one. Maybe, if you want to, of course...We could um, get dinner sometime? If you’re not busy— or if you aren’t seeing anyone! I totally didn’t realize. Well, if you want to?...”

Richie hadn’t really been listening, ironically enough. He was too caught up in that warmth on Eddie’s face, almost able to feel the heat of his embarrassment from across the couch. Eddie sat waiting for a reply, and in place of one Richie leaned forward with a delicate hand, just to let his fingertips touch the curve of Eddie’s jawbone. Only briefly, the slightest feel of his cheek, his racing heart, trailing a finger down to his chin, then hesitantly returning to his lap. Though bold, it was the only way to communicate with his actions what his stammered words had failed to say for the last week. Hey, I think I like you. You’ve got a cute face, too. See how soft it is?

Eddie’s breathing was reduced to a short little stutter in his throat, eyeing Richie’s hand with surprise as it was no longer against his cheek.

“Y-You certainly a put on a good show,” Eddie said when he could use his lungs again, shifting to stare at Richie’s dark eyes. It was like the rest of the coffee shop fell away, and Richie found himself stuck in a scene he didn’t know the lines to, with no stage directions to rely on. There were no wings, no gaping audience—only his own feelings to drive him forward. Only Eddie next to him.

Richie took the empty cup, swirling around the last dregs of honeyed coffee before examining the number so he could type it into his contacts. “This is only the first act, Eds. You could come by my dorm before your classes start? We’ve got pizza. A five star meal, of course.”

He grinned. “It’s Eddie . So is this... play, a comedy or a tragedy?”

Richie pretended to be deep in thought. “I was thinking something along the lines of a romance , but it’s totally your call. We could Romeo and Juliet this bitch and both die in the end.”

Eddie playfully bumped Richie’s shoulder, then glanced at his phone for the time.

“I gotta get back to work, but...dinner? Around seven?”

“Perfect.”

“And, if this is only the first act, ” Eddie toyed with one of the bracelets on Richie’s wrist. For a shy little barista of a man, he sure could flirt. “How many scenes are we talking here?”

Richie gave him a knowing smile. “You’ll have to wait and see. And thanks for the coffee, Eds.”

He frowned at Richie’s expectant grin, fighting the urge to smile through his irritation. “That’s not my name.”

“‘Riche’ isn’t mine either!”

[xlady-saya]

Hello! I don’t really use this account a whole lot but I wanted to go ahead and make a pinned post, which I’ll hopefully remember to update frequently lol. Anyways, here’s a collection of the fics I’ve written for aftg, andreil, and others so far ^^

progress comes in small steps series [complete]

and we’re just starting to get it [Rated T, 11.1k]

Neil is nothing and everything all at once, the entire universe for Andrew, however small of a universe that is. Even Aaron is starting to see it, though the pieces still don't line up.

And Andrew is trying to convince Aaron that he's never jealous? Yeah right. You don't spend your entire life being denied, being hurt, going through foster care with nothing to call your own only to be okay with someone else trying to take the one bright piece of life you call yours.

Or, Aaron is done with Andrew's shit and makes it his job to prove his brother wrong.

there’s always more to learn [Rated T, 12.3k]

The subject of Katelyn and Neil hasn't felt like dangerous territory in a long time, but Aaron feels the bomb countdown already coming to an end before Bee even opens her mouth.

"Well, the two of them are so alike," Bee goes on, oblivious to the tension leaking into the space. Her smile is pleasant, teasing. "It just goes to show how you and Andrew have similar tastes despite being so different."

The world freezes on its axis.

Andrew inhales a little too loudly the same time Aaron chokes on his spit. "W-What?"

trust is a slow process [Rated T, 7.3k]

If Katelyn had been stealthier, she could've escaped the crowded dance floor without Andrew seeing her.

But of course, she's no Neil.

Or: Katelyn and Andrew spend some unwanted quality time together, and Katelyn sees things for what they are.

someday there won’t be scowls [Rated T, 8.1k]

Neil finds that even with his mind's best efforts to hang onto the wounds of the past, his opinion of Aaron just isn't what it used to be. He can thank Andrew and Katelyn for a lot of it, but his own observations certainly help.

When he sees Aaron like this, the mix of worry and adoration on his face as he thinks of Katelyn, Neil can't help but feel too exposed himself.

It's a start.

I want this touch to be familiar [Rated E, 38.1k]

Deep down, Andrew knew he would always reach this crossroads, a time where the thought became too strong to ignore.

Going all the way with Neil. It's not something he can continue to avoid thinking about. When Andrew looks back to the days where he held Neil's hands down, when he never got off with him in the same room, he's forced to acknowledge how much he's allowed.

Not allowed. Welcomed. Wanted.

But that’s not all there is to it, and the desire to make a decision finally makes itself known.

if magic exists, you’re the closest thing [Rated T, 16.2k]

The concept of love is not one Andrew understands.

For a long time, it escaped him. It's always fuzzy, always distorted. He'd given up on it long ago, so why is he still chasing answers?

Whatever the reason, he's content to blame Jean Moreau for a lot of things, Katelyn too.

It's their fault he's here, at the happiest place on earth.

this red is for you [Rated T, 10.8k]

Katelyn never considered herself capable of doling out violence.

It has always been a far away thought, dampened by college courses and late night dates with her boyfriend. She lives a stereotypical life, despite everything she's been through with Aaron. Aside from her growing connection with the notoriously troublesome Foxes, nothing much about her life has changed.

Even then, she's learning she's still able to surprise herself. When Katelyn witnesses Neil defending Andrew, her own protective rage rears its head, ready to be explored.

And maybe that's a good thing.

an unconventional crossing [Rated T, 8.1k]

Aaron likes to believe he and Andrew have a lot more practice navigating their conversations now. And he’s right, mostly. But sometimes, challenges arise at the strangest times, and especially when their significant others are concerned.

In which Andrew and Aaron run into each other at the grocery store, and choose not to part ways.

the roads I traveled with you [Rated T, 35.5k]

When his brother gets engaged, Aaron doesn't expect it to send his head spinning as much as it does. Marriage has always felt like a dream, or a nightmare, one he never thought either of them would be able to achieve.

In that moment, Aaron remembers what he's always known, what keeps his head above water. He wants to be with Katelyn forever. That's never been a question. But marriage hadn't been brought up. For so long it was this abstract concept, a fantasy. He'd always reasoned with himself that it would happen, rationally of course it would, but now...

Now Andrew has made the idea a reality, and Aaron has to confront his own wants for his future.

one shots/multichapters

I’ve had a love of my own [Rated T, ongoing]

Despite everything Neil could’ve imagined for his life, he never thought he’d be here, finally giving the world the interview they’ve always wanted.

It’s been decades, but even with his numerous accolades and sports wins, he finds that they’re the least important thing about his life.

Neil can’t help but laugh. Andrew would be so annoyed if he were here.

Of course, Neil only wants to talk about him, and the life they spent together.

slurred [Rated M, 1.6k]

They're not the type of people to give up control, but with each other they're willing to bend the rules.

growing pains [Rated T, 10.6k]

Stuart knows it’s perfectly normal for teenagers to have crushes. That’s why he’s not surprised in the slightest when Neil starts acting strange; lighter, happier. However, what he doesn’t expect is for the crush to leak into his everyday life—or literally take up residence in his house. Or: five times Stuart knew Neil was hiding a nighttime guest, and one time he actually met him.

your hands are mine to hold [Rated E, 6.7k]

It has taken a long time for Thea to accept a lot of aspects of their past. Her eyes track the fear in Kevin's eyes, emboldened by how his own resolve wears it away year by year. She'll never take that sight for granted.

It's hard to ignore the weights on both of them, with their lives so eaten up by the Exy world and memories of the Nest, but one thing has always remained consistent.

Thea trusts Kevin Day with her everything, and she'll never hesitate to follow him into battle.

better than a night light [Rated T, 7.3k]

Neil hasn’t had the chance to examine the feeling of fear in a long time. He’s all too familiar with it though; from the nightmares, to the memories of a cold basement floor, he knows the feeling like the back of his hand.

But this fear is new, loaded with ridiculousness and a complete lack of reason. It’s nothing more than pixels on a screen, far away theories that can’t hurt him like his past can.

Maybe that’s why he’s beginning to not mind it as much. It doesn’t hurt that Andrew is also there to hold him through it.

Playtime [Rated E, 6.7k]

There was a time when Andrew might've questioned being so into this.

Not anymore.

take what you want [Rated E, 5.4k]

Laila has come a long way from her freshman year, past all the worries and pressure to behave a certain way. She never thought she’d realize it here, lounging poolside with her girlfriend.

The urge to seduce Alvarez is just too good to let go.

a product of absence [Rated T, 7.8k]

It’s funny, Andrew thinks, that this would be seen as a curse in any other situation. Two people, thrown apart by time and circumstances, desperately searching for one another.

But Andrew has never doubted Neil’s return. He’s not running, he’s not worried. It’s perhaps the only waiting game that’s been worth it, that he understands, because this bond with Neil has only ever made sense to him.

In another life, Neil made this much clear: they would always find each other in the end.

here I am, there you go again [Rated T, 17.5k]

There's many things about the past Neil chooses to leave behind, and most of the time it's for the best. For some reason though, his brain can't help but cling to the last memories of him.

"My Ex." Neil bites his tongue at the word, because it never feels right. At this point, so many years later, that man is no one. A stranger. He shouldn't presume to know him anymore than his ex should presume to know Neil.

If he remembers Neil at all.

But Neil should know better than anyone that the past always has a way of catching up to him, and this time, he's not as willing to run as he might've initially thought.

losing battle [Rated M, 3.4k]

It's always been Nicky's dream to be closer with his cousins. However, when he opens Andrew's mail to find more than he bargained for, he finds himself regretting the wish. Unfortunately, no matter how much Andrew's warmed up to him in the last few years, Nicky's pretty sure he'll die (literally) if Andrew finds out.

Nicky's mission begins.

temper, temper [Rated T, 3.7k]

"You paid for the deluxe package," Neil says as he scrolls through his payment history to find his client's invoice. His system is simple:

Basic Package: Fuck you. A general statement of displeasure and a brief description of the wrongdoing.

Intermediate Package: Fuck you, with passion. Everything in the basic package, but with additional insults. Customizable for an extra fee.

Deluxe Package: Fuck you to hell. Everything from the first two packages, for an extended period of time, and with extra viciousness.

And it looks like Andrew Minyard is the unlucky soul today.

a new contract [Rated T, 7.2k]

Neil’s request is simple on its face, but infinitely complicated given his history.

“Convince your team to sign me.”

And this was Andrew’s deal: If Neil can prove that he’s serious, that he can build a new life for himself so that he doesn’t end up crawling back to Riko, Andrew will convince his coach to recommend him for recruitment in the fall.

Yes, it was meant to be black and white…

But Andrew should’ve known better. Nothing ever is.

What a Rush [Rated E, 1.6k]

It's always Andrew's goal to stretch Neil's pleasure to its limits, and he's barely begun to scratch the surface.

locked together [Rated E, 8.3k]

Andrew licks his lips and tugs on the tail of the beast inside him, righting it so it can point him in the direction of what he's searching for. Neil looks good on top of him, panting and giddy, and it's rare that Andrew doesn't want to flip them over and make Neil fall apart.

But...every once in a while...

Well, he's relaxed today. He wants to listen, he wants orders, he wants to be controlled so long as the control comes from Neil.

do you like scary movies? [Rated T, 22.5k]

To say Andrew has never seen the benefit in the make-believe would be a lie. However, he finds less and less use for it as he grows older. He especially fails to see the benefits of anything from the horror genre; he’s made plenty of his own mistakes, has seen more than enough to terrify him in his life. He doesn’t need to rely on jump scares and idiotic protagonists.

But when he meets Neil, self-proclaimed horror archivist, he finds that maybe he never gave the genre the credit it was due, and he ends up thanking the dull movies eventually…

They lead him to Neil, the realest thing he’s ever known.

[passable-talent]

within the world of markiplier lore... set during the events of A Heist with Markiplier.

this fic is based off the brilliant and fascinating comic by @iiipeashy​ , using his character insert for the canonical y/n. this will all make a little more sense if you’ve read the comic, so please do... good shit!!!

I got permission before I used it! and if you’re at all interested in the additional backstory (more than I go into here), DEFINITELY check it out. fascinating plot, FANTASTIC art, and FOOD for all of us damien lovers out there. all the love @iiipeashy !!

Griffin knew that making a deal with Mark was akin to making a deal with the devil, but he didn’t realize just how bad it would be. 

He should have known when Mark mentioned Damien that any reunion wouldn’t be the one he wanted, but he couldn’t help but take the deal anyway- if Mark could get him out of the mirror, wouldn’t the price be worth it?

Whatever the price may be?

Living in the van was annoying, and dealing with Mark even moreso, but ultimately, the job wasn’t so bad. He was out of the mirror, and he could walk again, live again. 

You wouldn’t think you’d miss the sound of footsteps. You do.

Being used as bait, though, wasn’t quite as appetizing. Griffin hadn’t known what Mark meant at the time, but he would come to. 

Thirty-one different endings for his little choose-your-own-adventure. One of them even involved Wil, which was quite a shock, but ended up being quite nice, to see an old friend again. Even if he wasn’t the same as when Griffin had seen him last. Thirty-one different endings, and it took weeks, agonizing weeks to film them all. Finally, though, Griffin was filming the last one- number thirty one. This time, he was going to be ‘murdered’ by the sewer cult, faceless figures that Mark conjured up, or roped into his game, just like Griffin. He knew the script, he knew the turns he had to make, he knew what he had to show to the camera strapped to his chest. 

But things started going off script. 

Immediately, Griffin’s head started pounding, and he looked down, shutting his eyes tightly to try to regain his balance. When he looked up, his surroundings had changed into a old hallway, one he swore he recognized, but he couldn’t place from where. 

It was obvious that this wasn’t something Mark planned. That wasn’t Mark’s style- confusing Griffin like this would just lead to more takes, which would lead to wasted time, and Mark didn’t care for wasted time. Whatever this was, it wasn’t Mark’s doing. 

A clank from his left made Griffin flinch, and turn, and the sight before him was something that rattled him to the core. On this bleary, colorless brick wall, an ornate frame, lit by a single light- with Mark’s personal chef pictured within it, his eyes scribbled out. Griffin’s head pounded, an echo punching through his skull, of the chef’s words, one of the last times Griffin had talked to him. 

“I thought I told you to stay out of my kitchen!”

The phone that Mark had given him as a prop vibrated in Griffin’s pocket, and he fished it out immediately- it wasn’t even supposed to be on. But from an unknown number, he read an unsettling text, his eyes straining to pick out the words on a bright screen against his pounding headache. 

Aren’t you tired of it?

Tired of what, Griffin begged to ask, but the dark hallway and the pounding headache made him drop the phone to the side, hoping to focus on one problem at a time. Another clank, this time from his right, forced him to turn, this time to see a photo of the butler, who disappeared from the mansion before Griffin was shot. 

“Master would be so displeased! If only he were still alive!”

Every word rocked its way through Griffin’s head, splitting it open with a headache like none he’d experienced since... since he was put in the mirror, actually, all those years ago. When Damien and Celine left him there. The forced expulsion from his own body as it was taken by the siblings had driven a nail between his two temporal lobes, and he hadn’t felt pain like it since. Until now, that is. What was going on?

Another text, and Griffin lifted the phone again, focusing on the words as quickly as he could through the blurriness of detail around him. He didn’t need his glasses anymore, not since he’d gone in the mirror, but with his headache, the pixels of the letters blended together. 

Don’t you feel like you’re running in circles?

Well, yeah, but wasn’t that Mark’s point? Who was texting him, anyway? How was this possible? The phone wasn’t even meant to be on.

A light to his left made Griffin look over, and he found a portrait this time of the detective- Abe, his one-time partner. He was an oddball, but Griffin wished him the best... didn’t Wil shoot him?

“I knew I shouldn’t have trusted someone so god-damn gorgeous.”

Once again the phone vibrated, cutting through his splitting headache, which pounded through every echo of every word that Abe said, the sound swirling around him. It wasn’t from some speaker, but it wasn’t inside Griffin’s head, either. It was some combination of the two, hallucination, yet, experience. 

No one seems to question it. 

The end of the hallway was approaching fast as Griffin stumbled down it, and the last painting within the room was of Wil, his old friend. That weekend at the manor was all the time Griffin had ever gotten to know him, but he felt fondness for him, for all that he went through. Besides- he was the only one who was as willing to fight for Damien and Celine as Griffin was, when everyone else was ready to leave. He not only had his eyes crossed out, but also, the pink mustache was drawn large and curly over his face. Wilford Warfstache, as he had become. Griffin’s eyebrows turned up, his headache making him squint, but still feeling regret at the fate that Wil had suffered, descending into his madness. 

“I thought that it was about time that we got to know each other. Far from the prying eyes of...” 

The noise continued, but Griffin fought through it, reading the last text he received, this one making four. And he didn’t even know who’d sent them. 

But I thought you’d see through it. 

All that was left was a door at the end of the hall, and Griffin pushed through it, hoping to find an end, or at least a reprieve. He wasn’t so lucky. 

“...anyone else.”

He emerged into a black room, vast yet confining, the whole of it impressing a feeling of both claustrophobia and vulnerability onto Griffin. Spotlights clicked on, leading him forward to one final painting- of Mark himself. Now he was sure that Mark wasn’t behind this. 

“But it’s not about me... it’s about you! And who knows... I could be dead tomorrow.” 

The eerie laughter and crumbling of the portrait made Griffin cringe away, as though the words he was hearing was putting him back into the mindset he’d had, so long ago, when he didn’t understand Mark’s villainy, nor any of the supernatural forces pushing and pulling at both Griffin’s destiny, and everyone else that Mark surrounded himself with. Griffin hadn’t known, that night, that he was speaking the truth of his own future, through a plan he was acting out. He was always acting. 

“Same snake... different skin.” Griffin found that these words didn’t come with a headache, and shut his eyes tightly to push away what he felt, in that moment. Because he would recognize that voice anywhere. That voice, that he’d first heard when they were roommates in a university, and again when they were both trying to make a career in public service. That voice, that belonged to his husband, who chose him to be the district attorney shortly after being elected as mayor. 

Damien? 

“Always spinning his yarns, his webs... his lies.” Griffin whirled to his left, finding that familiar figure, but instead of the peaceful and honest expression he was so used to seeing on Damien’s face, instead he saw an eerie smile, and Griffin’s eyes fought against the red and blue shift of Damien’s figure in front of him. When a duplicate appeared, like a shadow, with it came a sound that slammed against Griffin’s ears, the force of it almost knocking him sideways. 

“I always thought that you were... t̵̮͊r̶̯͒ả̶̮p̴͚͠p̴̗̋e̶͚͐d̵̗͒ in his games.” The sounds continued, always accompanying some terrifying change in his appearance, like he wasn’t really supposed to exist in the three dimensional world. 

“Perpetually p̷̙͑l̵̠̋u̵̻̾ṇ̷̋ḡ̴̲i̸̠̍n̸͎̈́g̸̓ͅ down the rabbit holes of his stories.” There was something about this that seemed familiar to Griffin, the way that Damien’s words echoed around him, and back, but deeper, darker. 

I am, Griffin tried to say, but found that when he opened his mouth, no sound would come out, and Damien didn’t even react as though he’d tried. 

“Helpless,” Damien said, and Griffin tried again, trying to say the same words, I am, I am trapped, but nothing would leave his throat, as though someone had flipped the ‘off’ switch on his voice box. 

“Lost.” Damien’s words now seemed only to mock Griffin as he lifted one hand to his throat, and tried again, to force out any sound he could, but he just couldn’t. 

“I̸̠͛ ̵̦̏k̵̪̉n̵̩͌o̷͈̐ẅ̷͇ ̴̠͛t̷́ͅȟ̴͕e̶͑ͅ ̴̢̇f̶͎̌e̷͚̊e̸͔͘l̴̝̃i̵̻͗n̴͚̊ḡ̶͍,” Damien growled, his glitching and shifting intensifying, hammering more pain through Griffin’s skull, worsening his feelings of helplessness, because he couldn’t cry out in pain, like the pain itself was shifting between dimensions, just like Damien’s form, just like Selene’s voice. 

“Perhaps I̶̬͆'̴̹̉m̵̠̕ the crazy one,” Damien suggested, and finally Griffin realized where he had felt this particular pain before, where he had seen such shifting and glitching. 

When Selene brought him to that... shadow realm. 

“Perhaps we’ve met a hundred times already, and you simply don’t remember it.” Griffin gripped at his throat again, not moving and yet keeping pace with Damien as he walked, trying to just break through to him- this tortured being who he was once married to. 

Damien, he tried to say, but he couldn’t make a sound, and Damien continued on, apathetic, indifferent. 

“Perhaps you’re tired of me repeating myself, over, and over, and over, and over, a̸̡̓n̶̠͋d̶͓͌ ̸̭̀ō̵̪ṿ̸̊è̶̡r̷͋͜ ̵̱͗ă̸͕ğ̶̠ä̶̟́í̶̹n̵͚̑.” Every echo and screech and ringing in the massive and yet confining room felt like a needle into Griffin’s brain, and he gripped his throat tighter, his other hand trying to put pressure onto his head, as though it would help. 

Damien, please-

“Maybe you just miss my pretty face.” Damien’s eyes went dark, and Griffin found himself on the verge of tears, the powerlessness of his position breaking him down. Damien was in pain- and he didn’t even talk as though he knew who Griffin was. Didn’t he?

“It doesn’t matter. People like you only want one thing.” A red shift beside Damien let out a scream, making Griffin flinch backward, his chest feeling so heavy.

Damien!

“And it’s disgusting.” Damien zipped around, his form reappearing closer to the table he now stood behind, and reached down to pick up a wine glass full of something that didn’t really look like water. “You want answers.” He looked down, losing that eerie smile, and Griffin wondered briefly what such a break in his expression could mean. 

“Well,” Damien lifted the glass, and the higher he raised it, the more black the liquid inside became. “Games were always ẖ̷̎ḯ̸͜ș̴̈́ forte.” He paused to drink, and phased for a moment, his stance changing. 

“But allow me this one moment of self indulgence.”

Damien, please, fucking hear me-

Griffin was thrown backwards, smacking his spine against the wooden back of a chair, and he realized he was sitting in front of the warden’s desk from the prison set. His vision shot around, trying to pick up any sort of clue, but then it landed on the box, in Damien’s hand. That damn box.

“So much trouble, all for something so small.” He phased into the warden’s chair, sitting across from Griffin, and looked down at the box. 

Griffin tried to scream. But he couldn’t.

“Do you really want to know what’s inside this box?” And truthfully, Griffin couldn’t care less. He didn’t care for the silly little setpiece that Mark had conjured for his delusional, rabid fans. Maybe he would have been curious, once, but not with his tortured, lost husband in front of him. Not now. 

“The truth. Not the lies he’s told you. The truth.” Griffin ground his teeth together, the hand on his throat still clutching on as though if he squeezed hard enough he could hit the ‘on’ switch of his own voice box. 

“Well, I know how much you love good games, and all.” He shifted around, and Griffin’s eyes struggled to keep up with wherever he ended up, the movement throwing his headache against his temples. 

“Throughout this... heist, I’ve hidden codes. Several codes.” The symbols blinking behind Damien made a cold realization sink into Griffin’s skin. 

Damien wasn’t even talking to him. 

“Find them all, and...” 

Griffin wasn’t even there, to Damien. He was a vessel to speak to Mark’s audience. 

“You’ll get your truth.” 

Damien had no idea that he was so close to Griffin, so close, all of this was to talk to the audience, not Griffin. Did Damien even know that Griffin was alive?

“But that’s all I’m gonna give you.” 

Out of the void surrounding Griffin came sounds, like the room around him was falling down, crashing to the floor. Rumbling, and Damien was fading away, his expression no longer angry, but fading into quiet sorrow.

No! Griffin tried to yell, and he tried to hold on, but whatever or whoever was pulling him out or pushing him away was too strong for him. Damien faded from his vision with screeching and rumbling and creaking... 

And when he opened his eyes, he was on the steps of the museum, at the beginning of the ‘heist’ script.

“No,” He murmured, his voice hollow, and the triumph of hearing his voice again was trumped by Griffin’s soul-consuming anger, sadness, grief, that he’d seen Damien again, but didn’t get to speak with him, and now he was gone, and Griffin had no way back. He fell to his knees, letting the same word rise to a scream of anguish, of defeat, as he looked up at the colorful, happy windows of the closed museum. 

Damien had called out, and he’d reached Griffin. And he hadn’t even known it. 

Griffin’s resolve hardened, his heart hardened. Any fondness that he may have still been grasping on to for his old friend Mark was gone, and he vowed that he’d destroy Mark. 

For what he’d done, for using Griffin to lure in Damien, for everything. 

He was going to destroy Mark. 

-🦌 Roe

thank u, @iiipeashy , for singlehandedly restoring my motivation to write, if only for an afternoon

[unpopular-bishop]

If it’s me and if it’s you

It’s hard when Arthit is upset.

By no stretch of the word is Kongpob’s boyfriend laid-back, but Arthit - when not filling a specific role - is lowkey and willing to follow the path of least resistance. He goes along with suggestions surprisingly easy (provided that they aren’t suggested by Kong), and he’s often willing to make himself uncomfortable to keep the peace (provided that it’s not peace with Kong he’s keeping).

All of this is to say that when Arthit reaches the point that he’s actively making it known that he’s upset, it’s usually too late to do anything to fix the problem, which always throws Kong’s initial instinct right out the window. Worse, though, is when Kong is the problem. When he’s kept something to himself for too long, always looking for a perfect moment that never comes in time to avoid the blowout, or he’s pushed for too much too fast. When it’s something he can’t just fix.

So it’s hard. He doesn’t like when Arthit is upset, and he doesn’t like feeling like he can’t help.

Kong doesn’t like it at all when Arthit cries.

-

He and Arthit have never “broken up.” They’d had arguments, disagreements, Kongpob is (mostly) comfortable saying that they’ve even taken a break once. But they’ve never broken up. Kong worries a little more each month that that will change. That what Arthit was so scared of that night before his flight might come to pass.

The screen is blurry, but Kong is sure that’s because his eyes are so tired. He’s been writing and rewriting the same paper for three straight days and has probably slept a total of five hours since he started. He’s still, technically, supposed to be writing.

Instead, he’s thinking about exactly how long it would take him to pack a bag, jump on a plane, and taxi to Arthit’s apartment while he watches Arthit’s shoulders shaking through a Zoom call with a bad connection. They’ve not been able to really talk in nearly two weeks and now he’s had Arthit to himself for five minutes and he’s already messed everything up.

He can hear the quiet sounds of full-body weeping interspersed with the robotic static of a mic, and his own throat is closing up, his own eyes are getting hot just listening.

“Hey, hey,” He tries to cajole, blinking hard a few times, “I’m right here. Please don’t -”

He sees Arthit shake his head, and it hurts. It hurts, and he’s angry about it. Angry that he isn’t there, that he hasn’t been there for over a year now. That he chose to leave in the first place.

He wants to try to speak again, but he doesn’t know what to say.

“P’Arthit,” he rubs one eye, the burning almost overwhelming. The backs of his fingers feel wet when he pulls them away. His voice shakes. “Please.”

Arthit goes still and then Kong watches him take a deep, fortifying breath. His shoulders go up and roll back as he sits up, dashing a heavy hand across his eyes and rubbing fiercely.

“Sorry,” Arthit says through the speaker. His voice wavers, but the connection strips whatever nuance might have given some of his thoughts away to Kongpob.

“Don’t apologize.” Kong rubs his face again, feeling hot and itchy. “I should be apologizing. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Phi. I’m -” he starts to say the worst, and then worries he’s going to twist this into being about him instead of being about Arthit and cuts himself off. He wishes he could see more clearly, but Arthit is just a familiar set of lines and colors to him right now. What pixels have left behind for Kongpob to admire has also been washed away by his own body’s weakness.

He’s so tired.

“Don’t apologize, either.” Arthit interrupts, and then clears his throat. “It’s okay, Kong. It’s just...it’s hard.”

“I know.” Kong leans his face into one hand, digging his thumb and the knuckle of his index finger into his eyes to rub. They still haven’t dried out and he hopes that the camera doesn’t pick up on it. “I know.” He knows he shouldn’t say the words again right after Arthit’s regained his composure, but he can’t help it. “I just miss everything so much. I miss you. I want to go home.”

“I miss you,” Arthit says quietly. “And...and home will be here when you’re ready to come back.”

“Will you be?” Kong can’t help but ask, misery spilling into every word. He’s tried so hard to be the strong one, the sure one, through all of this. “Phi, I know things are awful, but I swear it won’t be forever. I’m going to make this worth it, I just -”

It should be humiliating, the catch in his voice, the way he has to breathe in sharply without being able to stop. But it’s Arthit, and Kongpob has done a lot of humiliating things to get and keep the attention of Arthit. He’d do a lot more than cry on camera, and happily. At this point, he wouldn’t be able to stop even if he wasn’t willing. He’s lost the battle and there’s wetness running down his cheeks, past the final barrier he’d been attempting to keep strong with his fingers.

“Kongpob, look at me,” Arthit demands in that listen to me right the hell now voice, and Kong has to take a second to gather himself before he listens, but he does because it’s instinct. He still can’t see the screen clearly - now there are tears in the way on top of not being able to focus his vision - but he knows Arthit is looking at him.

“Remember that interview we did?” Arthit says firmly. “With the Phi from campus?”

Confused, Kongpob nods. It’s been well over a year since that interview. He remembers that it had been fun. He’d been floating off the cute things his boyfriend had (willingly!) said (on camera!) about him, about them, for days after. Arthit had kissed his cheek in public. Held his hand, even.

“What would you do if I disappeared?”

Kong doesn’t have to think about it. His answer is the same now as it was then - he means it even more now, even.

“I’d look for you.”

“No matter how far I go, you’d look for me, right?”

Arthit is in his bed - their bed. Kong recognizes the sheets, remembers how much he liked how they felt on his skin. How nice they looked against Arthit’s. The feeling of homesickness is almost overwhelming him. He nods anyway, rubbing a palm against one eye. It does nothing to stymie the tears.

“And do you remember what I'd do?”

Kong sobs. He doesn’t mean to, but his heart aches. He wants to hold Arthit’s hand. He wants to feel his skin and his breath and their sheets and the warmth of his own sun. He wants the familiar street food and the campus grounds and his friends. He wants Arthit.

“Kongpob, answer me.” Arthit pulls out that voice again, “Do you remember what I'd do?”

He can’t speak, so he just nods. It’s his turn to feel his shoulders shake as he cries.

“I’ll stay still. I know that you’ll come back to me sooner or later. I’m still waiting for you. I’m staying right here until you find me again.”

Kongpob laughs wetly, sniffling. He feels like an idiot. In the end, he turned it into being about himself after all.

“I promised I’d hold you when you were sad, too. I’m sorry I can’t right now.” What he’d give to be able to touch Arthit again, even for only a moment.

“I said I’d stay by your side.” Arthit shoots back. “Stop arguing with me. This is your dream, Kong. I know it’s hard right now. You’ll get through it, and...and I’ll be here every time you need me. You get that?”

Kongpob nods. The crying is finally abating, and he scrubs at his eyes hard in an attempt to end it faster. When he blinks, the world is even more blurry than before. He’s still so tired. He only has two more days to finish this paper. He wants to stay up and talk to Arthit, hear about his, or talk about their friends or even just. Sit quietly with him.

“Stop looking so sad, you’re giving me heartburn.” Arthit wipes his face and it makes a small, weak smile slide to Kong’s lips.

“Sorry, Phi.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“Okay, Phi.”

“Kongpob!”

He laughs. His heart feels lighter, and it’s a little easier to slowly let his shoulders relax than it was only an hour ago. He still yearns, but it’s not washing over him, drowning him, as much.

“Thank you, P’i’Aoon.”

He doesn’t need to see well to know that Arthit’s cheeks flush, he can hear it in the way he clears his throat obnoxiously.

“Well. That’s what I’m supposed to do. I’m your boyfriend, aren’t I?”

Kong’s smile grows. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that. Say it again?”

“No.”

“Please, Phi? The connection’s bad, I couldn’t hear you.”

“Too bad.”

“P’Arthit...”

“I said it’s late there, go to bed!”

“We’re only an hour apart!”

“Stop arguing with me! I’m telling you to go to bed, you look like you’re about to fall over.”

“I want to talk to you.”

“We can talk more tomorrow.”

“I want to talk to you now.” Kong presses, coaxing. It’s sort of cheating, but he knows that Arthit is weak to it.

Arthit is quiet for long enough that Kong starts to think the chat has frozen and is ready to throw out some curses he’s not one to usually throw out, before breaking the quiet with a soft, fond, “You’re so annoying, Kongpob.”

“Just for you?” Kong offers and is gratified to hear a familiar, pleased laugh. His boyfriend is just so weird, so contradictory. Angry and stern one minute, soft and shy the next; a total nerd in the privacy of their space but a badass to anyone who doesn’t know him. Kong adores him.

“Go lay down. Take the laptop with you. I’ll talk until you fall asleep. Deal?”

“Talk even after I fall asleep,” Kong says, already putting his things away. He saves his drafts, makes a note about where he left off on the paper (and a doodle of Arthit’s name with a heart). He should shower, but he’ll do it in the morning. He’s too exhausted. He just wants to listen to Arthit and close his eyes and pretend he’s home.

“Don’t push your luck,” Arthit grumbles back, but Kong knows he’s won.

He ends up in bed, the blanket pulled up to his nose, just gazing as best he can at the screen where Arthit is doing much the same. The light hurts his eyes, but he can’t help but hold off on blinking just to keep that face within view.

“Let me tell you about this new employee.” Arthit starts, and Kong is asleep before he finishes the sentence.

[lindalevanimamm]

Reality- Chapter 5

(A/N): Just a warning that there are spoilers for the route endings in the game, so if you don’t want them spoiled read with caution!

Once we got back to my apartment, we sat on the couch. Saeyoung turned to look at me. I waited for him to start, ready to learn about how all of this is even happening. “I don’t know where to even start with all of this,” he began. 

“Just start from the beginning. I’m not going anywhere,” I replied. 

“Ok,” he breathed in. “Well I guess it all started with me realizing that my life was repeating. I kept having deja vu I guess. I felt like everything that was happening had happened before. I started to log my days in detail with what happened. Turns out I was right. I woke up, and went about my day and when I went to log what happened I found a log with my exact day on it. From there I tried to figure out why. A few weeks later I discovered I was in a game. I questioned my own existence. Is my life really real? Or am I just living a program? I still don’t really know the answer. I went through the same life day after day. No one really seemed to know either, but now I think I know that Zen was also suspicious. Then you came along. I wanted to make my feelings known. I wanted to meet you. So I figured out how to get us out of a game. It took a long time. I was able to talk to the RFA freely way before you and I could, obviously. Once we all figured it out we decided we needed out. I worked endlessly to get us out and into a reality. Eventually, I figured it out. I wasn’t sure because everything felt the same, but nothing had repeated yet. So then I got to work on getting here while I waited to see if I had gotten us out of the game. Coming here would confirm that we were no longer just pixels on someone’s screen. I did a lot of research. I went through a lot of errors before I finally got here. I was able to use dark energy and a lot of complicated math to figure out a way. I got to work and built the machine I have now. I don’t think I can explain it all. I don’t doubt your intelligence, but it barely makes any sense to me…”

“Yeah I wouldn’t understand,” I laughed. “But I think I get enough. Basically, you figured out you were in a game, hacked your way out and then made some sort of portal to get here.” 

“More or less.”

“So what happened after you made the machine?” I asked.

“I went through the portal. Looking back, that was not the best thing I could have done. I mean if something went wrong I could have died. But it did, by some miracle, work. I found myself here. I had no idea where to look for you so I just started walking. I guess fate is what really brought us together.”

“No, I think it was my overwhelming urge to get ice cream that did,” I chuckled.

“That too,” he laughed. “So then we met. I honestly had no intentions of returning to my universe, or reality, whatever it is. I had told the RFA before I left, but I guess I’m sort of glad I didn’t just ditch them all. But that night my head started pounding. Then I literally saw parts of me disappearing. I wrote that note and then blacked out. When I woke up I was back in my bunker. As soon as I could I sent messages to the RFA about what had happened. I think we’re all trying to figure out what to do with our lives now. Then I worked on fixing the portal, and I think I’ve got it now.” 

“So,” I paused, not sure how to ask my question. “What exactly are we going to do? I don’t want to make you come to this universe and leave everything behind...I mean everything that happened in that game was still your life right?”

“Yeah. Everything with Mint Eye and Saeran did happen.”

“But he knows you’re here right?”

“Yeah, he knows…” I sensed him starting to become uncomfortable so I decided to change the subject.

“How about everyone else and their routes?” I asked. 

“Their routes?” he questioned. 

“Well in the game you were all in there were different routes. So like in Yoosung’s he became a vet, in Jaehee’s she quit her job. What’s happening with all of them?”

“Oh yeah. All the endings did happen, kind of. After we got out of the game we started living lifes. Yoosung has finished school, and is studying more to become a vet. Jaehee did stop working for Jumin and is running a coffee shop. Zen did have a falling out with Echo Girl, but is back on track and is actually in a lot of musicals and movies right now. Jumin, well, he’s still working, but is a better boss and person all around.”

“Woah. So about your route...there were those days you came to see, well me I guess, in the apartment, what was that for you?” I asked. 

“Hehe, well. It was like someone was there. It was weird. I don’t know how to explain it. I was in a game, so I guess who I saw was just a CPU or something being controlled by you.” I felt my heart drop a bit. He sounds almost disappointed. Well of course he is. I’m sure the CPU was attractive, and now he is seeing me. Just me. I’m just average at best. 

“Oh” I softly answered. 

“Did I say something wrong?” he asked. 

“What? No.” 

“Tell me please?” he asked. I sighed. 

“It’s stupid. It’s just, well, I’m sure the CPU or whatever you interacted with was probably more attractive...you almost sounded disappointed and I mean I would be to if I was expecting someone to look like the CPU, but instead I look like me,” I mumbled, not really wanting to tell him, but also not being able to come up with an excuse. I heard him start to laugh. I looked at him confused. 

“Sorry. I thought it was something more serious.”

“It is serious,” I stated. 

“(Y/N),” he took my hands into his. “You are way better than some CPU. You’re real. I like you for you, not because of your looks. But that doesn’t mean I don’t think you're the most beautiful person I’ve laid my eyes on, because you are. You are so incredibly good looking, but what’s even more unbelievable is how you act as a person.” 

“Yeah whatever,” I replied. I know I’m not good at taking compliments, but there’s no way that’s true. Saeyoung sighed and let go of my hands. 

“It’s true! But since we’re talking about serious things, we need to talk about what’s going to happen. I don’t think it would be safe to pop back and forth between realities. I have a bad feeling that something would go wrong. I hate to push this decision on you, but it really is up to you on what you want to do. I mean, I know we technically just met and I’d be asking you to leave everything and everyone behind, but-” My mind began to think, ignoring the rest of his apology. I already hate being here. I have no friends. I hate my life. Just a few days ago I thought about ending it. Is there really any reason for me to stay? Yes I’m in school, but I can drop out and start over in their universe. It can’t be that much worse. Sure we just technically met, but I know that I have feelings for Saeyoung and would do anything I could to make him happy. It’s a little crazy, but my life can’t get that much worse…

“I’ll go,” I stated, not realizing that he was still talking. 

“What?” he asked. I looked up into his eyes. 

“I said that I’ll go with you Saeyoung.”

“But what about your family and friends?” I scoffed and then laughed.

“I have no friends Saeyoung. I don’t even know why you like me. But we can find a way for me to communicate with my family right? Just like how I could message you through the app. It’s not like I see my family in person much anyway, and when I do need to I can use the portal. I know you said it shouldn’t be used often, but once a year or so won’t hurt.” 

“But you’re in school…” 

“So. I hate it anyway. I’ll drop out. I’ll tell my parents that I’m just going to drop out and start working somewhere. If I need to go to school in your universe then I will.” Saeyoung sat in thought for a moment. 

“Are you sure?” he asked. 

“Why not? I have no reason to stay alive here,” I replied seriously. 

“Don’t say that.” 

“What?” I asked, a bit taken back.

“Don’t say you have no reason to live. There’s always a reason.” 

“Oh” I shifted around a bit uncomfortable. I’m not wrong Saeyoung. I have no reasons to live. My life sucks. I don’t want to be here anymore. I’m depressed. I’m anxious. So why not go somewhere completely new. Actually that’s a bit scary. But it can’t be worse than how I am now.

We sat in silence for a few minutes in thought. I felt okay with my decision to leave this reality. But I could tell Saeyoung felt bad for asking me to leave my life. “I’ll get started on packing and then-” I stopped mid-sentence realizing I needed more details. “Wait. Where am I going to stay? Is the money currency the same? Oh my God, you all don’t speak a different language do you? How do we even get back?” Saeyoung interrupted me with a laugh. 

“(Y/N), calm down. Most everything is the same I think.”

“Oh,”  I replied a bit disappointed. 

“As for where you can stay it’s up to you. I have feelings for you, but I’m not going to rush anything. You can stay in my bunker, or we can get you a place.” I smirked at him. “What?” he questioned. 

“Did the Saeyoung Choi, Mr. ‘I can’t ever be with anyone because I’ll hurt them’, just admit his feelings for me?” I asked. “I mean what happened to you pushing me away on your route saying I was annoying? Now you’re saying you like me so casually?” Saeyoung looked down, hiding the blush that was creeping up onto his cheeks. 

“Well you played the route. You already know I have feelings for you. You’re the one that has helped me with all that,” he replied. “Can we just pack up now?” 

“Yeah,” I smiled at him. 

“Just bring the important stuff. We will need to keep this place here for you so no one gets suspicious.” 

“Right. I should drop out of school first,” I said excitedly. I’ve always wanted to just drop out. I’ve sure thought about it enough times, and now I finally am. I ran to grab my computer. I quickly emailed the school registration and figured out how to officially drop out. After a few minutes I was done. I looked up at Saeyoung and smiled harder than I had in months. “I am officially a college drop out,” I managed to get out before laughing in glee. 

“I’ve never seen someone so happy to drop out,” he laughed with me. 

“Alright, I’m going to go have a long phone call with my parents about me dropping out.” 

“I’ll go ahead and set up a way for you to message them,” Saeyoung replied. I went to go make the phone call. 

==============================================================

The phone call was quicker than I expected. Surprisingly, my parents took the news better than I thought. I walked back into my apartment to see Saeyoung hovering over his computer still. 

“Well, they took that better than I thought they would have,”  I told him. He looked up and smiled.

“I’m glad. Did you decide where you want to stay?” he asked, then added, “no hard feelings if it’s not my bunker.” I smiled. 

“I think I do want my own place. I don’t know if I can go through that many adjustments at once. I’d probably break down. I’m not good at any kind of relationships, plus I’m like, you know, moving to a whole new universe.” 

“I figured so. Come here I’ve got some options for you.” I walked over and sat down next to him. Saeyoung passed the laptop over onto my lap and I looked. My eyes went wide looking at the prices of rent. The apartments were also incredibly nice. 

“Woah Saeyoung these are a lot of money...not to mention so much nicer than this,” I moved my arms up and in circles. He looked at me confused. 

“How much does this place cost?” he asked. 

“Like 400$ a month. These are over 1,000$!” 

“Oh, weird. How much is a Ph D Pepper here?” 

“Well first off it’s called a Dr. Pepper here, but like two dollars,” I answered. 

“Hmmm, it appears our currencies are not exactly the same. These apartments aren’t that much, but I also want to make sure you’re staying somewhere safe. I can cover the costs.”

“I don’t want you to have to pay for it, it’s a lot!” I argued. 

“Too bad,” he said leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Fine,” I grumbled. I quickly decided on an apartment. Not the nicest, but not the worse either. “I’ll take this one, but at least let me pay you back what I can,” I told him. 

“Maybe,” he smiled at me. He’s not going to let me is he? I can’t burden him with this so I’ll find a way. I passed the laptop back to him. He was typing away. “Looks like you can move in tomorrow!” he said. I smiled. I’m starting over. 

“I’m going to go pack then,” I told him, before standing up and stretching. Saeyoung apparently thought it was the perfect moment to lean forward and tickle my sides. I immediately swatted at his hand laughing and trying to get him to stop. I eventually broke free and ran to my room before he could catch up. 

“HAHA. You can’t get me in here!” I yelled through my now locked door. 

“Sure I can!” Was all I heard him say before he suddenly was opening the door. My jaw dropped in horror. He held up a small pin that he had used to pick the lock. Saeyoung then smiled and lurched forwards, once again attacking me with his hands. I felt like I couldn’t breathe from laughing so hard. 

“S-stop! I-,” I took as big of a breath in as I could, “I can’t breath!” Saeyoung just laughed before he eventually decided to stop. I breathed heavily and caught my breath. I was so busy trying to breathe I hadn’t realized where we had ended up. I was laying on the floor, with Saeyoung hovering over me, pinning me down. Once I realized I looked away, trying to hide the blush that I knew was coming. My heart was pounding, from the tickle attack and the fact that Saeyoung was here, and pinning me down. Saeyoung seemed to catch on as he quickly stopped and got off. 

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, now embarrassed. 

“It’s fine,” I mumbled back. I got up and decided to just move on and start packing some of my things into a box I had found. Soon after, Saeyoung began to help, asking what all I wanted to bring. After packing everything up, we laid sprawled out on my floor, exhausted from moving things. 

“Are you sure about this?” Saeyoung asked me. I rolled my head to look over at him and smiled. 

“Yes. Like I said earlier, I don’t have much to live for here. And while I know it will be hard at first, it can’t get worse than how I feel now,” I answered. He looked at me. 

“How do you feel?” I choked on my spit, surprised that he would just ask me flat out. 

“You really want to know?” I asked. He nodded. I sighed. “Well, empty I guess. I feel like I feel so many negative emotions, but also nothing at all. I don’t have friends, and I never really have, so something must be wrong with me. I don’t even know why you’re here. I hate my life. I’m not happy and I don’t think I have anything to live for. I worry about everything, and I do mean everything. But I don’t ever share my feelings with people because I don’t want to burden them. I don’t even know why I’m telling you. I guess it hasn’t really hit me that you’re actually here. My mind is constantly telling me why I’m not good enough for things and it sucks. It sucks to not have someone there for you. It sucks to wake up wishing you didn’t. It sucks to feel like no one understands you. It sucks to question every bit of you. Everything just sucks.” I was trying to keep the sobs from coming, but it wasn’t working. I could feel the tears beginning to stream down my face. I was swallowing the sobs that were trying to escape. I brought my hands up to my face to cover it and wipe away the tears. Why did I even tell him all of that? It’s going to scare him away. He’s not going to like me. I’m a waste of space burdening him. I suddenly felt arms moving me. Saeyoung moved me so that I was now crying into his chest. I sobbed harder. The sounds coming out of me weren’t human. I think he picked me up, all I know was I gripped onto his shirt as I sobbed. He put me onto my bed and wrapped me into a hug once again. His hand moved to rub my back. 

“I know it sucks. I know how hard it is, but I’m here now. You’re not a burden. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’ll get through this. I’ll be here every step of the way,” he whispered. Why are you doing this? I don’t deserve this. I moved even closer to him, leaving no space between us as I cried. Saeyoung stayed there and comforted me, whispering that he was there for me. My cries began to quiet. Only a few sniffs and tears here and there. I looked up at Saeyoung.

“I’m sorry” I tried to whisper, but soon realized how harsh my voice sounded. 

“Don’t ever be sorry for your feelings,” Saeyoung whispered back. 

“But I am. I don’t normally cry this much,” I let out a small laugh. “You’ve been here for not even two days and I’ve already cried what three times or something?” 

“Sometimes it’s good to just let it all out. I’m just glad I could be here this time.” I buried my head back into his chest, finding comfort in his heartbeat once again. I know I shouldn’t be doing this, falling asleep in his arms when we’re not even really in a relationship. I don’t care though. I need someone and I’m just glad he’s here.

[virtuallytakenby]

Space Princess

Book: Mother of the Year 

Characters: MC (Tara Day), Guy Ledford, Aahna (our pixel baby) 

Summary: Guy and Tara can’t find a job and their fights are affecting Aahna.  

A/N: This is set back when Tara and Guy were married and their relationship was getting uglier by the day. Tara’s talk with Alma in chapter 5 inspired me to write this because I’m familiar with people like Guy.  

Also, Mean by Taylor Swift came up in one of my old playlists and thus, the inspiration. 

Warnings: Gaslighting, emotional abuse, a sweet moment between MC and her daughter. 

Tags: @brightpinkpeppercorn @itsbrindleybinch @desiree-0816 @jakkoftreyde @dailydoseofchoices @fortunatelywaywardsandwich @kayden-vescovi @dawn-1994

Umm, let me know if anyone wants or doesn’t want to be tagged. 

Word Count: 1851

The laptop screen stayed bright throughout the day and as the sun faded into the night. Tara’s eyes were heavy as she scrolled through more job openings that paid well but required a degree – which she didn’t have. She sighed, rubbing her eyes in frustration. There were other jobs that didn’t require a degree, but the hours weren’t flexible and she couldn’t afford a sitter for Aahna. And for the jobs that had flexible hours, Guy would throw a fit if he saw her waiting tables. 

It was around 8 p.m. She unplugged the charger and shut her laptop. It needed to cool down after several hours of use anyway and she could use a break. Aahna was sprawled on the couch, watching whatever was on that small screen. Right now, it was some space documentary for kids. 

Tara heard the apartment door open then slam loudly. Her eyes immediately flitted to Aahna who flinched slightly but tore her eyes from the screen to greet her father. 

“Daddy!” She squealed, running up to him then hesitated as she neared. His face was red and Tara knew that their daughter could sense something was wrong. Guy patted her head and moved away, muttering something under his breath when his phone rang. He answered it and walked to the bedroom. 

Aahna’s face sunk in disappointment. 

Tara’s heart ached. She wished Guy would pay a little more attention to their daughter. 

“Honey, I’m so sorry daddy didn’t hug you,” She dropped to her knees to hug her daughter. She was only five and already lacking her father’s love despite him being here every night. “He’s just worried and busy, okay?”

“I just wanted to tell him about the cool space things I just learned on T.V.,” She said sadly, her small fingers curling into a fist. “But he’s always gone. Even at home.” 

 “I know, baby,” Tara cooed. “Daddy’s just looking for a job. And when he will, we’ll move out of this small apartment and into a big home. With a big screen T.V where you can learn and watch more cool space stuff. And maybe even get some stars to hang on your ceiling. Does that sound cool?”

Her eyes brightened. “So cooooool.”

“—WELL, WHY NOT?” Guy’s voice boomed from the bedroom and Aahna flinched, her face downcast again. 

Damn you, Guy, she winced. 

“Why don’t we go to your room for a bedtime story, okay?” 

Aahna nodded. After readying her for bed, Tara tucked her in and laid down beside her to read a story. 

“Once upon a time ... “

“Mom, can you tell me a space story?”

“You don’t want to listen to Cinderella?” 

“Umm, no...” She bit her lips nervously. 

“Okay. Once there was a little girl who loved space: the planets, the stars, everything —”

Aahna smiled knowingly. 

“—and then she decided one day to see it for herself. She built a rocket and flew to the moon, her very first stop. There she met a ... uh ... moon alien —”

“Moooom,” She giggled. “There are no moon aliens,”

“Shh, don’t let the moon alien hear that,” Tara chuckled. “So the moon alien greeted the girl and it had been waiting for her. Earth was going to be hit by an asteroid and she was the only one who could save the earth.”

“—WELL, YOU’RE MAKING A BIG MISTAKE PASSING UP ON ME. I WOULD HAVE BEEN AN AMAZING EMPLOYEE. YOUR LOSS YOU STUPID—”

Guy’s voice could be heard through the walls and Tara grimaced. He probably didn’t get the job he applied for. Again. 

“The little girl asked why it was her who could save the Earth,” She said, trying to distract Aahna from listening to her father. “The moon alien said it was because she was a space princess!”

“A space princess?” Her eyes widened. “What’s a space princess?” 

“A space princess is a girl who loves and protects everything in space. She knows so many things about it and loves to learn more things. Because of her knowledge, she can protect the people on Earth from things like the asteroid.”

“Woooooow,” Her eyes gleamed. “I want to be a space princess one day.” 

“You will be, honey,” Tara stroked her hair. “Now, do you want me to continue the story?”  

Her daughter nodded her head eagerly. 

__________________________________________________________________

When she closed Aahna’s door behind her, she found Guy sitting in the living room, her laptop on his lap as he furiously typed something. Tara walked towards him then hesitated. He would probably get angry with her if she disturbed him. But she needed to. 

“Guy, can we talk?” She approached him carefully. 

He looked up from the screen annoyed. “What? I’m trying to find a job here.”

“It’s about Aahna. I really wish you wouldn’t talk so loudly or angrily over the phone. It scares her.” 

“What are you talking about? I wasn’t shouting at her.” He said as he resumed typing. 

“You’re not listening. I said you’re scaring her.” She repeated calmly. 

“No, I’m not. I was talking to the people who rejected me. Aahna’s a big girl. She knows who it was meant towards.” 

“She’s five years old, Guy,” She was getting frustrated. “A five-year-old who flinches when you raise your voice. A five-year-old who wants her father to pay attention to her because he’s barely home and when he is, he is busy.”

“I don’t want to hear this again. I love her plenty.” He waved his hand dismissively, his face getting red. 

“Guy—”

“Do you want me to find a job or not?” He snapped as he shuts the laptop. “Because right now, you’re making that impossible.”

“I do, but—”

“My job applications are being rejected. You can’t find a job either. We’re drowning here, Tara! And you want me to bother about small things? Are you really that stupid? That selfish? You want me home? How about you take my place?”

“Guy, please,” She pleaded. “That’s not what I’m saying. I just wish you’d spend more time with Aahna. She needs her father too.”

But he wasn’t even listening anymore. 

“This is all your fault! You tied me down to early. You wanted us to marry. And now, I can’t find a job. This —” he gestured at the apartment with his face scrunched up in disgust, “—isn’t what I deserve. I deserve a better life and you kept me from that.”

“Stop it, STOP IT!” Tara yelled her eyes with tears. “I can’t keep fighting with you every night about this Guy.”

“I’m not the one fighting. Are you really that sensitive that you keep bringing up trivial matters to fight about?” He snapped. “We have bigger things to worry about. You sit at home every day and I go out talking to different people, giving job interviews. So stop being a bitch about this. I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT THIS AGAIN.”

“I, uh...” She seemed at a loss for words. Was it really trivial? Was she too sensitive? Guy was working so hard to find a job. Of course, he didn’t have time to worry about other things. He was thinking about money for Aahna, right? He was trying. He was trying. But what he said hurt. The way he said it hurt. But relationships aren’t meant to be perfect, right? Especially with a kid. 

“I’m sorry,” She said, her stomach twisting. She couldn’t bring herself to mean the words, but she had to say it. Maybe she was being a little selfish, hoping he’d spend some time with her and Aahna, hoping he’d talk about his day, let her help, hoping that they’d be a proper family even though they were struggling. But the reality was different. Maybe she was selfish hoping for more. 

Guy glared at her. He shook his head and slammed the door to their bedroom behind him. She heard the locks like. Looked like she was sleeping on the couch. Again. 

Tara bit her lips to keep it from trembling. Her heart was beating so fast, but it was so tired and heavy. She opened Aahna’s door hoping their fight hadn’t woken her. Her bed was empty. Tara held it open a little wider, scanning the room but Aahna was nowhere. Just as she was starting to get frantic, she heard a little sniff. Tara bent down to find Aahna curled under the bed, 

Her heart broke when she saw her daughter was curled up with her fingers in her ears, sniffing as if she had been crying. She looked so small at the moment that Tara just wanted to pick her up and take her far away from this place. She wanted to shield her from their fights, and give her all the love in the world for being such a resilient kid. 

“Aahna, baby,” Tara whispered. “You can come out, honey,”

She peeked her eyes open, lips trembling. “Why do you and daddy fight?”

Tara pulled her in her arms as she came out from under the bed. “I’m sorry honey. Daddy is just stressed. And mommy is stressed too,”

“Can space princess help?” She asked as her eyes became watery. 

No, no she can’t. 

“Absolutely, honey,” Tara replied, tucking her in bed again. 

“Will the space princess make daddy not shout?” 

“She will,” Tara tried keeping her voice from cracking. “Come on, let’s get you to sleep first, okay?” 

Aahna nodded. She closed her eyes and let Tara stroke her as she hummed. Tara shut her own eyes, trying to clear her mind of Guy and of their situation. She didn’t want to think of him because she knew she’d break down and cry. Aahna shouldn’t have to see that. She shouldn’t have to see how broken this family was. 

“Mommy?” Her daughter whispered sleepily.

“Hmm?”

“Does daddy love me?” 

But she had. She had seen how broken it was. 

“Yes, he does. He loves you very much. I love you very much,” Tara’s voice cracked and she barely muffled a sob. 

Aahna was already asleep. 

Tara carefully stood from her bed and curled up in the corner of the room so the sobs racking her body wouldn’t shake the bed and wake her daughter. She hugged her knees as hot tears rolled down, trying her best to muffle every noise she made. She couldn’t leave the room. She had to sit there and watch over Aahna. Everything was sinking, the gravity too strong as it pulled her to the ground. How was it that she’d become so alone? Why couldn’t she protect her daughter? Why couldn’t she be a better mother? Why couldn’t she get a job? Why was she such a failure?

The floor was cold. She welcomed it. Maybe numbness was all she needed. From all the fighting and worries and failures. 

She was just a body, floating away in deep, dark space. 

Her eyes flitted up to Aahna’s sleeping figure. 

Her space princess, the only one keeping her tethered to her life. The only worth fighting for. 

Guy had to go. 

[prismarine-parrots]

The Recap

I have yet to read a fanfic with Recap so I’m changing that, you’re welcome? :P

Zloy pushed open the double doors to the Hermitcraft Recap stage, ready to throw together and record the next episode. However, unlike per usual when the undead zombie entered, the lights were off and the studio was eerily silent.

"Pix? You here?" Zloy called. No reply.

Weird. Normally I'm the late one. Guess I'll get set up without him them.

Zloy kicked the door closed with his foot and headed up to his place in the control booth above their news set on the stage. He put down his laptop and plugged it in to the permanent charger they had there, opening the screen...

And paused.

A devious smirk made its way into Zloy's face as he got a mischievous idea. He quickly got up and turned the lights back off in the studio, then pulled his laptop off the desk to the floor and he sat and brought up a video.

Now all I have to do is wait, Zloy chuckled under his breath, Pix will never know what his him!

Ten incredibly boring minutes of waiting and doodling on a notepad in the lowlight later, the studio doors slammed open and there was heavy breathing.

"I'M HERE!"

The Russian jumped and froze underneath the desk at the loud exclamation. He hit his head on the desk and his green hand hit the keyboard of his laptop, making the screen flare to life and the video he had up start playing.

"DUH DUH DUH DAH. DUH DUH DUH DAH DUH DUH DUH"

The Hermitcraft Recap theme song started playing at 100% volume of the studio speakers, meaning that it could be felt through the floor and blasted into your very soul. The zombie could hear the human's scream and something metal falling over.

“THIS WEEK, ON HERMITCRAFT—“

"ZLOOOYYY!" Pixlriffs yelled over the glitched audio of his own voice, "TURN IT OFF, RIGHT NOW!"

Zloy was crying and laughing in his hiding spot. Not only did he get Pixlriffs, but he got himself as well! He blindly reached out and nearly punched the spacebar, before falling backward against the backing of the desk and howling.

A couple of seconds later there were grey jeans and black sneakers in front of him, and Zloy knew he was busted and started a new fit of giggling.

"Zloy, I'm going to kill you," Pixl stayed in a flat voice.

"I'm already undead though," the zombie reminded between hiccups.

Pixl groaned. "Whatever. Get up, we have a Recap episode to make..." his tone thankfully wasn't angry in the slightest, just annoyed and probably hiding humor to look like the professional one of the duo.

Zloy closed his laptop and stood up, still grinning like a fool. Pixl rolled his eyes, finally giving into the smile the zombie knew was waiting, and they sat down in their respective rolling chairs to plan their next Recap video.

"So, I know that Doc did more with his piston bolt in the Nether, Scar did another jangle despite being revealed, ConCorp pranked Sahara, Iskall placed a bunch of ice, Mumbo actually went back to his base to work on his own stuff instead of Sahara..."

Pixlriffs trailed off as he noticed Zloy's stare. "Yes?"

"No 'good morning, how are you, Zloy?'" The zombie said, a sad look on his face just to mess with Pixl more.

The human groaned again. "No, not after that stunt you just pulled. My ears are still ringing. What were we talking about again that's not you...?" 

Zloy lost it again.

—————

Two hours later they had their script written and now had roughly an hour to film and start editing. Zloy had about thirty tabs open at the top of his browser, all single Hermitcraft videos  that he was going to pull clips from. He had their Google Doc script up and was currently pulling it up on the TV monitor down by the camera for Pixl to read while he’s narrating. Pixl himself was sitting at his spot at the news desk, shuffling the prop papers as he usually does before they start. The papers were literally there just for show, as if they were to print it all then 1. Pixel would be constantly reading off the paper instead of reading off the screen just to the side of the camera and 2. It would waste a lot of ink.

“You ready, Pix?” Zloy spoke into the microphone that boosted his voice down at the set. Pixl gave a thumbs up in confirmation. Zloy nodded.

“Alright, started recording. Good to go in three, two, one...”

Pixl started reading his lines, not quite having any context to what he was going to be voicing over but knowing the general gist of it from reviewing the hermit’s episodes and writing the script. They of course had their strange but humorous intro and Zloy was writing out what he was going to put as his editor’s note in the title card (probably something with messing with Pixl again honestly).

Halfway through Pixl reporting on Scar’s latest Jangler deed that Xisuma had ordered, Zloy got bored. Normally when he got bored during recording he would start editing or doodle on his notepad he always brought with him, but right now he didn’t feel like doing either. He pressed the button to talk into the intercom, Pixl pausing just barely when he saw the red light come on down on set.

“Jingle, jangle, jungle, jongle...” Zloy whispered quietly, knowingly interrupting Pixl just enough to confuse him.

“What in the world, Zloy?” Pixl asked.

“What? Nothing!”

“...You’re trying to pull my leg again aren’t you.”

“No? No idea what you’re talking about,” the zombie grinned behind the mic, withholding the devious tone that threatened to sneak into his voice.

Pixl flicked a hand at him from his spot at the desk.

“You’re not fooling me, Zloy.”

“I’m not trying to fool you!”

There was an audible groan and Pixl shifted, turning his back to his editor.

“Might be cutting this out but Zloy is being annoying so that’s why I’ve cut. Remember, we’re not professionals here like Mumbo. Zloy isn’t able to control himself when I’m recording, it seems.”

Zloy chuckled under his breath, having way too much fun with this.

“Worth it!” He cheered into the microphone, immediately getting an annoyed look but also a smile from Pixl.

“Just cut this part out, alright?” And with that, the human went back to recording his voice over.

Meanwhile, Zloy knew exactly what he was adding for their silly intro in the editing process. He knew his comments would totally be spammed with complaints of deafness from the excessively loud intro music he was going to add, but to poke at literally everyone who watches, and especially Pix? Completely worth it.

—————————

Word count: 1270

Creative liberties were taken because Recap doesn’t have a recording studio in MC but I really want them to have one instead of it just being in a voice call?

Now the real question: imagine Zloy and Grian teaming up?

[braedens]

Okay since you discovered Stalydia, how about a little fic prompt? (only if you're feeling up to it!) Maybe them navigating college or graduation and their very different paths?

friend you have come to the right fucking place

~

“Your scene analysis is wrong.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“You haven’t done a print detailing. Not to mention you mis-labeled the toxins from the filter test.”

“How do you even know, you have no clue what the scene looked like!”

“So a criminal would just come in barefoot? Is that right?”Stiles tries ever so slightly to glare through his laptop screen, but Lydia is too busy reading over her algorithm with a red pen for, Stiles wants to say, the twelfth time since they started video chatting.

He looks over his Google Drive document he has up of the mock-FBI report — and she’s right. He didn’t write up anything about footprints or shoe specs. And his chemical equation makes no sense when he reads it over. He watches Lydia flip through her pages where she’s laying on her bed. Her feet are up and crossed behind her, and pieces of her hair have fallen from the ponytail to frame her face.

“What would I do without you, Lyds?”

“Fail your internship,” she says, without missing a beat.

Stiles really enjoys Thursday nights. It’s his least busy day of the week, and that’s by his standards. But Lydia agreed that if he would look over her algorithm assignments for the M.I.T Bioengineering program, then she’d help him with his intern assignments. Which includes all his boring as hell scene analysis.

It’s been, well, weird since they graduated two years ago. Weird as in, oddly calm on the supernatural front. Scott rarely calls for support, enjoying his time in vet school and with Kira now that she’s back as much as he can. And then there’s Malia.

It was pretty hard leaving her in Beacon Hills. Don’t get him wrong, he misses both his girls like no fucking other, but he’s been able to see Lydia a couple times here and there when they have off time. Going back to Beacon Hills has been another story.

“What are you thinking about?” Lydia murmurs, and Stiles hadn’t even realized he was spacing out until he’s greeted with soft greens eyes over his monitor.

He leans on his desk, folding his arm and propping his head up. “I miss Malia,” he sighs, knowing that if he’s feeling a bit wistful, so must Lydia. He watches her move the papers around her and stretch her arms, nodding. “Yeah, me too. Like, a lot.”

“It hasn’t even been a month since we saw her last!” he points out. “Plus, we talk to her every other night.”

“Stiles, we’re still allowed to miss our girlfriend.”

He sucks his teeth. It’s quiet for a second, and he’s playing with a frayed end of his flannel cuff before he looks back at the screen.

“I miss you too, you know.” Stiles has a dopey grin on his face, and Lydia of course, is rolling her eyes.

“You are such a dork,” her voice tinged with teasing.

“Say it back!”

“Fine,” she draws out. But her eyes soften, and she has that pout in her smile that lets Stiles know that whatever she’s going to say, she means.

“I miss you.”

They share a fleeting moment, or as much of a moment you can have looking at each other’s pixelated form on a screen, before Lydia is reaching behind her and immediately typing on her phone.

“On a completely related note, what does your schedule look like for tomorrow?” she asks, but Stiles is already drafting a text to Scott to tell him to call him when he’s free. “Way ahead of you, babe. Texting Scott.”“Booking flights,” she adds, and they look up at each other on the screen, a knowing smile between the two of them.

~

The next afternoon, Malia finds herself hanging out with Scott at his apartment, per his request. But all she can really focus on is the text message that’s lit up her phone.

“Are you even listening to me?” Scott asks from where he’s sitting next to Malia.

“I get it, Scott, you had another great day hugging a puppy,” she berates, still looking at her phone.

Scott’s too nice, though, and she notices him shift closer to her on the couch. “What’s up with you?”

And Malia is never one to not say what’s on her mind. She hands her phone to Scott, and shifts farther back into the sofa, arms crossed.

“Raincheck on our call tonight?” Scott reads from the phone, a group text between Malia, Stiles, and Lydia. Scott looks back at her, a confused look on his face. “Why is that so bad?”

“Because,” she snatches the phone from his hand, and stares back at the screen. “We always make time for calls.”

She knows it’s childish- Lydia and Stiles are busy people. Smart people. Busy, smart people. They have a lot going on between school and work, so she absolutely gets that they won’t always have time to talk.

It still sucks. Especially since they’ve always made a point to find time to talk, even when life is pulling them in a million different directions.

Malia already annoyingly knows what Scott’s going to do next when he shifts closer to her and wraps his arms around her, pulling her closer to him in a warm hug and resting his cheek on the top of her head. She doesn’t uncross her arms, and she still has a slight scowl on her face, but she doesn’t protest it. Which, is annoying considering she can smell how content Scott is by the fact that she’s agreed to let him get this close to her.

“I’m sure they had a good reason,” Scott says. “You know they love you.”

Malia exhales, because on one hand, she knows Scott’s right. And she can believe that she may be irrational when it comes to her feelings most of the time. But still…

“Sometimes it just feels like there’s them, and then there’s me.”

Scott doesn’t pry, which she’s pretty grateful for. She’s not even entirely sure she’d even have more to tell him at that point. There’s been plenty of times where she’s thought about how much more in common Lydia and Stiles have, or how much longer they’ve known each other than they’ve known her.

She’s also not daft on the fact that she’s incredibly needier than they are. It’s pretty alarming (and annoying) how long Stiles and Lydia can be on their own for. Quite frankly, it’s offensive to her as their girlfriend.

She’s considering going home, not really in the mood to pretend she’s fine and Scott giving her that look every time she says she’s fine when he knows she’s lying, but before she can get a word in, there’s a knock on Scott’s door.

She turns to look at him, and is surprised to find that he’s just grinning at her.

“Uh, aren’t you going to answer that?” There’s more knocks. “Like, now?”

“Can you get it?”

“Me? Why me?” she looks back at the door. “It’s your apartment.”

Scott rolls his eyes, sitting up from the sofa. “Can you just stop asking questions, and answer the door?”

Malia scoffs, but she gets up anyway. “Yes, sir,” she mumbles out, walking over to his door. Another rap of knocks.

But, when her hand touches the doorknob, Malia can suddenly feel a warmth rush through her body, like the feeling of putting a warm blanket over you on a cold night. She feels lighter, something settling inside of her, and she doesn’t even need to open the door to know who’s on the other side of it.

She swings the door open, and within a second she’s being enveloped in a hug, two sets of hands wrapping around her waist trying to pull her as close as possible. Malia never cries- and she isn’t about to start right now, that’s for damn sure. But there’s something about the way Lydia breathes out on her neck, making the hair rise when she does, or the was Stiles mumbles with his lips pressed to her temple that makes the laugh that comes out of her a bit watery. No one comments on it, though.

“What are you doing here?” her brows furrow as she takes a step back. “Is there some supernatural shit going on again, because I was just getting to enjoy not having my body almost cut into pieces.”

“Uh,” Stiles starts, slowly looking over at Scott, who’s sitting on the sofa. “There isn’t right?”Scott shakes his head. “Not that I’m aware of.”

Lydia slides her hands down Malia’s arms slowly until she’s holding her hands in hers. “We just wanted to see you.”

Malia blinks. “See me?”

“Yeah, you,” Stiles arms snake around her waist again, his wide, goofy grin beaming at her. This close, she can see that he’s left his beard unshaven a bit so scruff peaks through, and she thinks back to when she told him how much she loved the feeling of it when he kissed her. Stiles protested, told her she shouldn’t hold out her breath for him to grow out a beard. And yet, here he is.

When he leans in for the kiss, she notices the way the hairs scrape at her chin and the warmth in his lips when they press in. He smells sweet and calm, like lemon and cotton, and Malia can’t help but melt.

Next to her, Lydia hums in content, still holding Malia’s hand when she pulls apart from Stiles. There’s no pause, though, before she leans in to Lydia’s space, slipping a hand through her hair to rest at her neck. Lydia has a different scent, something more cool and fresh and floral, though it might be the perfume she always seems to wear. Lydia kisses with her whole body- pressing closer and closer until they are almost entwined, and she sighs into the kiss that vibrates Malia’s skin to her core.

“We really missed our girlfriend,” Lydia says when they pull apart, and takes Stiles’ hand in hers as the three of them are still huddled together by the door. “So of course we’re here.”

Malia practically beams at that, looking between the two of them, two people that she loves whole-heartedly, standing in front of her just because they missed her. And she thinks if this is as close to family she’ll come to know, she’ll gladly take it in every heartbeat.

[tricklesandtides]

Fill the Void [2/5]

By this point in your life, you were used to fading into the background. Used to being just another face in the crowd. Used to standing by, while others took the spotlight. Specifically, while 80% of the population took the spotlight. You most certainly were comfortable in your place behind-the-scenes.

Yet, Hawks took great joy in breaking you out into the public scene. He loved to show you off, taking you out every chance he had. Movies? You two were at every blockbuster that came out. Galleries? Every event, every opening, he was there, dragging you behind him. Dinners? He took you to every restaurant you knew, and many more you didn't. Even if you weren't always entirely interested in whatever date he took you on, it was wonderful just to spend the time with him.

What wasn't so wonderful, was the cameras that followed the two of you around. They took pictures of you constantly, at every opportunity. Anytime you stepped outside, they hounded you, trying to catch every moment, whether you were at Hawks' side or not. And while he may have been more accustomed to the attention, you floundered and panicked at the lack of privacy.

It wasn't long before the tabloids started arriving at your apartment, either. You didn't know if it was the outlets themselves sending you copies of heir papers, or if some well-intentioned fool thought you'd enjoy seeing your own face plastered on every page, but the result was the same.

You tried to get rid of them before Hawks found out that more had arrived. He knew how much they upset you, and had, on several occasions, had several 'polite' choice words with the major news outlets because of it. It might have been easier to just... not read the papers, but curiosity often got the better of you.

'Pro-hero settles for a civilian'

'Quirkless rising through the ranks'

'Love? Lust? Money? Read the real story here!'

Everyone had an opinion, and it seemed like they were all determined to shout and shout until you drowned.

At the end of every day, your Hawks returned, ever faithfully. He'd take any newspapers that you hadn't hidden or otherwise disposed of, and would fling them from your bedroom window. His laughs would echo out onto the street as the two of you watched the pages fly in the wind.

“They don't know anything,” he murmurs to you, fingers threaded through you hair. He fights to keep the smirk off his lips. You know he doesn't take the whole thing seriously, there's not a doubt in his mind. He has the freedom to choose, because he has the power. The status. The most to lose.

Maybe they're right.

Somehow, somehow, the sudden publicity of your relationship seems to have a positive consequence. The infamous number two hero becomes the talk of the nation. The man with the pitiful lover, the lovesick puppy who can't keep her name out of his mouth. The less Hawks shares about you, the more the crowds speculate, and the more attention he draws to himself. His agency is put at the forefront of every mission, ever event, every patrol. Applications upon applications, begging the public idol to make an appearance. To let some group or other ride on the coattails of his fame.

Hawks becomes much busier, suddenly. He no longer stops by between patrols, no longer drags you out of your office for late lunches. No flowers at your desk in the mornings, no 'personal escort' after work. No, now he arrives at your apartment, the sky long since darkened, feet dragging and wings drooping. He barely manages to drag himself into your bed at night, falling into your arms and asleep before he lands. His plumage is sparse, and he leaves limp feathers all over your floors. No matter how often you sweep, they always seem to linger.

Still. You promised each other. 'I'll never let you go.'

Hawks used to beg you to watch his interviews. He was snappy and short-tempered and full of smirks, and he did whatever he could to fluster whoever he was with. Sometimes you would watch it live, other times you would watch snippets online. It made him happy, knowing that he was putting on a show for you. Knowing that the whole world could see how little they mattered compared to the treasure waiting for him at home.

Now, he begged you to avoid watching them. He used to be in control. He was always the one making the probing comments, the barbed questions. Now, they had ammo, and more than enough resentment.

One evening, on your way home from work, your car is caught up in a massive traffic jam. People yell and shout obscenities at each other. Horns honk. No cars move. You groan, and watch the advertisements on the giant screen above your heads, bolted tightly to the skyscraper. Your fingers drum against the steering wheel. And then you see his face.

The pixels don't do him justice. They make him look flat and annoyed and pale, and you know first hand that he is so much more. He sits on a smooth, stiff black couch, beside the hero Endeavor. The interviewer- a man with a thin, weasel like face – sits to their left on a matching armchair.

You watch Hawks' face closely, trying to imagine there in the car beside you. He'd make some joke at the interviewer's expense. He'd tell you he smelled like onions, or about how tiny his feet were... something silly and stupid. Anything to try to get you to laugh. You don't even register what the interview is about until the camera moves, focusing in on Endeavor's brutal, livid glare.

“What my partner does with his personal time is his business.”

“Are you sure you won't comment on their potential children?” the interviewer probes. At this, Hawks chokes, his face turning red just as quickly as yours. “After all, you had four children through a quirk marriage, so we know-”

“You don't know anything. I won't repeat myself again.”

“And there you have it, folks!” the interviewer sings, gesturing towards the duo. “Endeavor, the number one pro-hero in everything but personality!”

Hawks opens his mouth to protest, and as his bushy eyebrows furrow, you feel laughter bubble in your chest. You recognize, even from this distance, even through a screen, the storm brewing in his eyes.

“And you,” the weasel-man says, pointing to Hawks, whose mouth moves soundlessly. Your lover's face takes on a feral look, his clawed fingers tapping roughly on the microphone attached to his shirt. “We've heard plenty of rumors of this girl you keep shut in at him, but you never seem to care to comment. Anything you'd like to say?”

Hawks shakes his head forcefully. That familiar defiant light enters his eyes, and you know he won't budge. A screen begins to lower behind the three men, as Hawks and Endeavor become more and more agitated. The interviewer reaches out, and black goop shoots from his fingers, cementing the heroes to their couch. The camera readjusts its view as pictures are projected along the screen. Pictures of girls, blondes and brunettes and redheads. Skinny, curvy, muscular. Some posing on the front of magazines, some posing with Hawks himself.

“What's the difference between them and her? You never seemed to worry about keeping them out of sight. My, my, even your breakups were rather public.”

“They have nothing on her.” Hawks' mic is working again. “She's different.”

“You're right, there. She's quirkless. She can't challenge you, so there's no competition. You're automatically the better of the couple.”

Hawks' fists are clenched. Your nails bite into the skin of your arms.

“Right? Right?!”

The car behind you honks loudly, repeatedly, and you realize that the traffic has begun to clear. You tear your eyes away from the screen, hands shaking as you grip the steering wheel and move the car forward. It seems like seconds pass, and you're in front of your apartment. The home you share with Hawks.

You keep driving.

First Part

Next Part

[nancywheelxr]

(our friends set us up on a blind date as a prank because we don’t like each other but neither of us wants to let them win so ) | Part 3:

( part 1 ) ( part 2 )

“Have you ever noticed how ominous this song is?” Winn says, between muffins, “I mean, you better watch out? You better not cry? Like, are you threatening me? Are you warning me? Is Santa going to kill me in my sleep?”

Nanoon’s is still covered in string lights and Christmas songs are still flowing through the speakers at all times of day, Christmas spirit stubbornly clinging to the coffee shop with every red-and-green decoration, but there are worse things to see at ten in the morning, Winn supposes. Especially when the food and the coffee are for free. “I know right? I never understood that,” Kara nods enthusiastically, ponytail swishing behind her, “he sees you when you sleep, he knows when you’re awake? I’m pretty sure that classifies as stalking.”

Their waitress brings another plate of muffins and donuts, eyeing Kara’s bony wrists and her half-eaten blueberry donut with jealousy before leaving them at the table. Winn snorts, watching Kara hoard the donuts on her own plate like a blonde, cardigan-wearing dragon. “Either way. Here’s to having survived another Christmas,” he raises his coffee for a cheap, brunch toast and Kara clinks her own paper cup against it with a grin. “But seriously, is there a reason you dragged me out for brunch or– not that I’m complaining, far be it from me to refuse free food, but. Is there?”

Kara adjusts her glasses, shrugging half-heartedly, but it can’t be that bad, because her smiles stay fixed in place, if only a little sad at the edges. “What, can’t I want to do something nice for no particular reason?”

“This is about the blind date, isn’t it?” Winn sighs, putting his coffee down. His apology coffee, it seems. “We talked about this yesterday, it’s fine. It turned out better than fine, actually.”

“Right! Right, no, I know– I’m still sorry about that, though, sort of,” she shakes her head and her ponytail swishes again. “But that’s not why I asked you here. It’s not– it’s just that you are one of my best friends but when was the last time we talked? Really talked, no world-threatening, reality-altering, future-changing disasters. Just you know, two friends talking about life, and movies, and work!”

“Kara, we pretty much work at the same place– dealing with world-threatening, reality-altering, future-changing disasters is basically our whole job.”

“I know. But! It’s like game night. Game night is no longer among us. It perished sometime between the Daxamites and Reign and we didn’t even notice!” She complains, chewing on her donut with renewed passion as if maybe the void left behind by game night could be filled with exceptionally good pastries. “What’s next? Karaoke night? If we don’t do something about this soon, it will be chaos.”

Winn sips at his latte, stalling. Kara does have a point, a semblance of normalcy sounds awesome right about now, after Worldkillers and not-so-bright futures and a year of playing the universe’s deadliest game of chess with Brainy’s homicidal maniac relative. Honestly, at this point, they should all start a club, he, Brainy and Kara, make some t-shirts, hold weekly meetings. How to deal with your psycho family member 101. But he digresses. “Okay, I see your point. Things have been kind of intense, lately.” That’s the understatement of the century, he knows. “And it would be nice to hang out without some impending doom glooming everything up.”

Kara sets her cup down with a little too much force, coffee spilling on the wood table, but it doesn’t dampen her enthusiasm, she’s grinning as she tries to clean up the mess with napkins. “It would, wouldn’t it? A normal night, without any superhero business?”

“I have an idea,” Winn passes her more napkins, “why don’t we resurrect game night?”

“Yes! That would be perfect!” She squeals, eyes widening behind the glasses, “you should bring Brainy, and I’ll invite Nia and Lena, too! It’s a shame J’onn is still out of town, though.”

“Yeah, but he’ll be here for Karaoke night, right?”

“I think so, yeah. He’ll definitely be here before New Year’s Eve.”

Winn is in the middle of trying to remember where he put his board games when the TV catches their attention. The news anchor is outside a suburban house– pastel colors, white picket fences, rose bushes in the garden; the whole package– talking about murder and some sort of alien serial killer on the loose, and Winn can physically see Kara itching to fly. “You should go,” he tells her, “sounds like superhero business, hopefully not so world-threatening, reality-altering, future-changing level.”

“I’m so sorry,” she rushes out, already digging dollar bills out of her wallet, eyes glued to the screen, “but we are bringing game night back. That’s non-negotiable now. And you still have to tell me everything about your date with Brainy– but we’ll talk later!”

And she’s off, doorbell ringing on her wake.

*

What no one tells you about spending an entire year in the future is that, like with any other extended trip, there’s a shitton of things to do once you get back.

Because being an adult sucks like that.

Alex made sure the DEO took care of his rent, and Winn is thankful for that, he is, he very much likes not being homeless and there’s no way he’d find another apartment like this for the same price– but anything beyond that, it’s a work in progress.

His internet connection isn’t nearly as good as before, won’t be for a little while, or at least until he can stabilize his bank acount– and that’s not gonna happen until he forces himself to go grocery shopping for real and stop buying take out every night. There’s only so much Chinese food he can eat without getting sick, anyway.

Google Chrome crashes for the third time this afternoon and Winn lets his laptop slide from his lap to the floor. And honestly, he hopes it breaks and bursts into flames, because if he has to watch that freaking pixelated dinosaur jump over equally pixelated cactus one more time–

Maybe he should buy a cactus. It would probably be better than sit here and try his luck with cable.

You know what, maybe he should.

Dragging himself off the couch, Winn stretches, hopping over his fallen laptop– sadly, still in one piece– and looking for his keys; there has to be at least one flower shop still open in the whole city. It doesn’t even have to be nearby, he’s willing to go for a walk.

Keys, keys, keys– got it!

He grins, throwing his front door open and– “what are you doing here?”

Brainy is standing in his doorway, one hand poised to knock and the other holding a manilla envelope. “Oh.” He takes in Winn’s clothes, key halfway into the lock, “is this a bad time?”

“No. I mean, I was about to head out, but,” the cactus will have to wait, it seems, “by all means, come in, I guess. Wait, how did you know where I live?”

“The DEO keeps a personal file on every current and former employee,” he says, breezing past Winn and inside the apartment, envelope thrust unceremoniously into Winn’s hands. “It was easy enough. But do not worry, I only scanned the contact information.”

“Because that’s not creepy at all,” Winn comments without any real heat, too busy opening the envelope and too curious to be annoyed. He shakes it upside down and two photos fall down, screenshots from security cameras showing– no way. “Dude, we should have these framed!” The first one has Alex’s shocked face while the second has Kara’s, both taken in just the right second. “And then, when we do the big reveal in– what, a few weeks? Anyway– we should give it to them, like, with little bows on top– oh, oh, I know! There should be a cake too, with Congrats, you’ve been played! written on top!”

“That is… an idea, certainly,” Brainy pauses in the middle of his living room, back straight and stiff, looking almost nervous. “But not the reason I’m here.”

“Well, then what is it?” Winn asks, scooping up his laptop from the floor, and now that there’s another person here, in his apartment, he’s beginning to notice how messy it truly is. The jacket thrown over the couch now feels glaringly obvious and the takeout containers from lunch still sitting on his kitchen table couldn’t be more noticeable with neon signs hanging over them. If only the person standing on his living room weren’t so judgy, or even just had given him a heads up before showing up on his doorstep. But god forbid, that would be asking too much. “What is the reason? Come on, man, did something happen? Are they onto us?”

Something complicated scrunches up Brainy’s face, not quite a grimace but just as disgruntled. He opens his mouth, stops himself, then closes it, before trying again, “no, I don’t believe so. But something did happen. After Alex convinced Supergirl to pick you up for brunch, whatever that means.”

“Wait, Alex convinced Kara? But she– no, okay, why did Alex convince Kara? What happened after she left?”

“It did not take much convincing, I assure you. Supergirl had already been talking about some board game she found in her closet this morning? Somehow that led to brunch, I didn’t entirely follow on their logic.” He frowns, sounding more irritated with himself than anything. To be fair, one year ago, Winn would be rolling his eyes, but damn if it’s not confusing to be in a completely different time. Sometimes Garth and Lyle would say ordinary stuff and it still went way over Winn’s head; it’s like the entire world’s sharing some inside joke, but you can’t even tell the set up from the punchline. “As I was saying, after she left, Alex requested, ordered, really, that we talked somewhere private.”

“Oh, so she wanted to get you alone, without me or Kara? That– that doesn’t sound like Alex. What did she tell you?”

“I thought the same,” Brainy exclaims, and wow. There’s a first for everything, Winn figures. “It’s completely off her normal behavior! Once we were alone, she threatened me.”

“Alex did what now?”

“Yes, strange, isn’t it? She warned me about the consequences of breaking your heart, but that makes no sense; if we are supposedly dating, why would I do that?”

Worry and apprehension had been steadily growing, coiling tight around his lungs, wondering if this is the next crisis– mind control, invasion of the body snatchers, who knows!– but now it deflates like a balloon, and he exhales a lungful of relief. “So that’s it? That’s what she wanted to talk to you about? Oh, man, you got me really worried there for a sec.”

Like most things that come out of Winn’s mouth, this seems to irk Brainy in all the wrong ways. “And it is cause for concern, Winslow, if the Director is under the influence of some sort of mind–”

“Okay, I’ll stop you right there,” Winn says, trying to placate him. He shoves his jacket off the couch and pushes pillows aside, clearing space for them to sit down. “It’s nothing to worry about. That was just Alex’s version of a shovel talk, it’s fine. I mean, it was probably very scary, because it’s Alex, but it’s fine.”

Brainy sits, one eyebrow raising as he appears to debate with himself if he should believe Winn or not. “Shovel talk?”

“Yeah, it’s a thing people do when a sibling or close friend starts dating, they give the boyfriend or girlfriend the good ol’ you hurt them, I’ll kick your ass speech.” And yeah, it’s his bad, Winn can recite a mea culpa here; he should’ve warned Brainy about things that could possibly happen, but, frankly, Winn had not considered this as a likely scenario. “It’s sweet, actually.”

The utterly flat look Brainy levels him is just too funny, and along with having him here, sitting on Winn’s couch because Alex scared him with her shovel talk, it sends Winn into a fit of laughter. He can’t help it. There’s something so absurd about the whole situation, it sends him laughing all over again everytime he hiccups back in control. Even Brainy, when Winn manages to gather himself, has an indulgent smile on his face. “A very strange custom,” he notes, “but understandable with its due context.”

“Yeah, don’t sweat it, man.” Winn waves him off, leaning back on the cushions. If he had gone grocery shopping, this would be a nice time for a beer. “But it’s good that you’re here, because while you were being shoveled, I was getting free muffins and free coffees-- now that I think about it, I’m not sure Kara understands the concept of brunch very well either. But nevermind that, the point is,” he grins, “we are invited for game night.”

A wary sigh from Brainy and the squinting look on his eyes tell Winn he would probably have agreed on the beer thing. “I’m assuming that has something to do with Kara’s recently found board game and brunch.”

Winn snickers, “you would assume correctly. Look, I’m kinda hungry, are you staying or what? ‘Cause I’m thinking of ordering some pizza, so-- speak now or be hungry forever.”

It snaps Brainy sharply into motion. He stands up, smoothing out his clothes, “no, I should probably go.”

“Suit yourself,” Winn shrugs, standing up as well, and his phone buzzes on the table. “Oh, no. This is not good.”

“Something wrong?” Brainy asks, peering over his shoulder to look at the screen, “is that Alex?”

“Yes, she wants to meet for lunch tomorrow,” he swallows audibly, they both know what this means, “oh god, now it’s my turn to get the shovel talk.”

And Brainy, the goddamn asshole, he smiles. “As you said it yourself, there is nothing to worry about. It’s sweet, in fact.”

Winn savors every last bit of pleasure of slamming the door closed on his stupid smug face.

[afireads-blog]

BURN

Member: Calum Hood

Theme : friends to lovers au, angst/fluff 

________________________________________________________________

“So your “great plan” is to sit on a bumpy hill with wet grass on a cold Friday night?” Calum asked, his voice laced with sarcasm, and a tiny little bit breathy after walking up what seemed like the steepest piece of land in this entire city.                                                                                                  

“Don’t be silly,” she said, as she laid down what looked like to be an old piece of cloth, the ends were frayed and it was faded blue. “I have this so the grass won’t even bother us.” She plopped herself down and patted the space next to her. “Come on, I assure you it’s not that bad.”

He looked back towards the car where it was warm and comfortable, and then at her sitting on the worst makeshift picnic blanket ever, and promptly sat down next to her. He could still feel the bumps of the ground and the rain seeped through the material but then she smiled that little smile where the mole on her cheek was more prominent and really, he could have sat there the whole night. He liked spending time with her, and he didn’t get to do it often. She was always so busy. If she wasn’t helping with her brother’s science project, she was having tea with the little old lady that lived in the flat above her, or probably trying to think of ways to light up the entire world for free. God, she was such a fucking good person. She just oozed “nice.”

He liked that about her. So did everyone else. There wasn’t anyone that didn’t like her. All she needed to do was be her genuine self and she had them wrapped around her soft tiny pinkie. Even her old-as-dinosaurs neighbour smiled at her when she walked by with a cheery “Hi” and a “How’s your day?” And to be honest, he wasn’t too fond of it. He wanted her all to himself, for him to be the only one she told her annoying knock-knock jokes to.  

It’d been like this since the day they met; him fighting for her attention. He really hadn’t wanted to start school, he wanted to stay back a year, just like his cousin had. His mum had promised him to have a fresh tray of baked goodies waiting for him as soon as the school day was over but he wanted to be at home making the cookies. On top of that his teal blue regulated jumper was making his skin feel weird and he was trying his extra best efforts to not just grab the scratchy material off himself and throw it in the bin. And so Calum sat in the corner by himself, aggressively colouring in the picture in front of him, not bothering to be careful about the lines. His house was a mixture of reds and blues and he didn’t care that it didn’t match, in this world houses looked this way.                                          

“Do you want a yellow?” He looked up to find the owner of the voice that was merely a shy little whisper. Whilst her voice was tiny, her hair was anything but. Her curls were tight, mimicking an explosion which framed her face, reminding him of fireworks and those popping candy sweets he enjoyed that he insisted on opening his mouth to show everyone what kinds of noise they were making. He merely looked at her whilst she sat herself down next to him and out poured a plethora of crayons from her tiny chubby hands. She quickly scanned her little collection and selected the brightest yellow. “This one’s the best for the sun.”                                                                                                                                                   He gave her a little “thanks”, and quickly coloured in the circle that resided in the top right-hand corner of his paper. “My name’s Calum, “he introduced himself, passing her crayon back, “but you can call me Cal if you like.”  

She gave him a smile and her name. He repeated it, liking how it made his tongue go all the way to the top of his mouth. “Pretty.” She giggled at that and then continued on colouring. He noticed she took her time with her picture. She liked to look at her colours first, making sure that it was the perfect one, and once she found the right one, she made little strokes keeping in within the lines of the template. He wondered what kind of flavour cookie she liked, and whether she’d like to maybe come over and try some of his mother’s.

His train of thought was interrupted when someone else sauntered over and sat in front of him, with the intention of also sharing the crayons on the table. He wanted to say tell them to go away, couldn’t they see this was his and Y/N’s table? She just smiled and included the newcomer in to the conversation, asking her whether red or pink was better choice for the flowers in her picture? He scowled, colouring in his windows with a green. He sneaked a look at the person in front of him. She was just mindlessly drawing flowers unbeknownst to the fact that she had just ruined Calum’s first attempt at making a friend. He scowled. Again.

He felt a light tap on his arm and looked to his right. Y/N lifted up her masterpiece. “Is it good Cal?” She asked, her voice a little more confident than the first question she asked him.

“It’s really good,” he answered, with a couple of quick nods. He turned back to his own work and let out a little smile. She had asked him whether her picture was good. He was definitely going to ask her to come over and eat his mother’s cookies with him now.

As their friendship grew, Calum realised that Y/N was a charismatic person, and it was very rare to find a person she didn’t win over with her friendliness. He wasn’t six years old anymore; he knew how to share his crayons, or at least more age appropriate items.  He had a bunch of close knit friends himself but the relationship he had with them could never compare to the way he felt about her. It wasn’t that they didn’t have a strong relationship; they were best friends. Sure she told him her deepest fears (swimming in open waters), and her most embarrassing secret (vomiting before her first dance recital), and she always made time for him when she’d been with her other friends.

But ultimately they were just that; friends. And he was jealous of anyone she gave attention to. God, he was even jealous of the damn wind that brushed past her and made those little bumps form on her arm. He wanted to be close to her. He hoped whatever combination of stardust and dust formed from a nuclear fireplace that was in her blood was in his too.                                                          Selfishly, he prayed to the Gods thanking them for the death of all those stars. How could destruction be evil when it brought about the purest celestial being that could ever come into existence?                                                                                                                                      

 “So.”  Her voice was so faint, merely a whisper, but he heard it. He always paid attention to the words that came out of her mouth. Even if she was rambling about the fact that the oceans were about to be empty or something like that.                                                                                              

“Is that a question or are you about to tell me something utterly mindblowing?” he quipped. She laughed and he chastised his heart for beating a little louder.                                                                                

“I much prefer starting off a conversation with a question but a good fact does set the mood somewhat quicker than..” His hand pressed over her mouth, she was in mid sentence so her lips fit awkward against his skin, which he hoped she wouldn’t notice were sweaty, but he could feel hot air flowing from her lips and it made his own mouth dry and if she hadn’t noticed the sweat before she must have done now.                                                                                             “If you dragged me out to speak about conversation techniques I’m going and you can call Ashton over.” She turned her head and he removed his hand, and discreetly wiped it on the blanket. It was suddenly too quiet and he hoped he hadn’t hurt her feelings. “Whilst I do love catching pneumonia on the weekend before summer break, it’s not on my top five ways to spend a Friday night with..”                            

“I’m leaving!” she blurted out. “My dad’s office is moving down south, we’ve checked out the local schools and everything. It’s all been finalised.” He wasn’t listening much after her first outburst, which was odd because he was so tuned to the frequency she was on. It wasn’t the best thing that came out of her mouth and normally she was good with words. She had a way of churning them out, they flowed off her tongue, so effortlessly. Hers just managed to work, every single time. Except this once.

“What about us?” is what he wanted to say. He wanted to demand her to stay or even beg to take him with her. But really he had no right to even think of that. He was merely a boy who was in love with his best friend and as he looked at the stars blinking away in the distance he knew he wasn’t worthy of her reciprocating those feelings.

“How long are you here for? “is what he actually said, his voice a little shaky, anticipating the answer to his question because this was the closest thing he could get to a confession, being too much of a coward to instead ask, “how long do I have you for?”  He wanted her to realise what, or who, she was leaving behind. He knew it was unreasonable of him to want that but he couldn’t help it, there it was again. The selfishness.

“My university program starts in six weeks but we’re going a week earlier so we can all get settled in.” Her head was still turned away, and he knew she was worried that he was going to be mad. He was mad. Not at her. Never at her. Mad at the whatever entity was out there that was writing out their destiny, whatever entity that was out there that made the fucked-up decision to let his and Y/N’s paths touch but not intertwine. Mad at himself because ultimately there was nothing out there but planets and debris; he had no one to blame but himself.

Wrapping an arm around her, he leaned his head on her shoulder. “You know we live in this great age where even when two people are at two very different places they are still able to connect.”

“I’ve seen you practically every single day since we were six. I don’t know if seeing a pixelated version of you on a screen is going to compare.”

“I was talking about tinder. “

A giggle escaped her lips and he sighed. He was going to miss that. She was right; a pixelated version wouldn’t compare. He knew her though, he knew she’d be right off the bat making friends by taking her own version of his mother’s cookie recipe around the dorms (she had even personally said Y/N’s version was much better), making sure they all knew they had someone to talk to. He just wondered until how long he would remain in that group too. 

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