#this could be a valentine card if only i came up w this idea earlier

[scarletlizzard]

Valentines Day

Pairing: wanda x female reader

Tags Minors DNI: fluff, tooth rotting fluff, smut, fingering, strap on use (R receiving), oral (W receiving), blink and you'll miss it parent trauma, love ×4, reader being a hopeless romantic

Masterlist

A/N: Happy Valentines Day, my loves!! I hope everyone has a wonderful day filled with love. And if you don't have a Valentine, you do now! ❤️ Just remember you're loved beyond what you think 😊

Thanks for reading! Be my Valentine?

□ Yes

□ No

■ In a delusional relationship with Wanda Maximoff

(I totally understand, you picked correctly)

❤️❤️❤️❤️

Valentines Day was a special day for you.

You loved, love. The idea of being in love, the idea of someone loving you. Every year it came around, you wished you had someone to spoil with love and flowers and notes. To feel the butterflies in your stomach.

Thankfully, love came in many different forms.

10 Years Old

"What's a Valentine?" You hear from across the room a girl ask your teacher. The class was working on Valentines Day cards during art. You quickly looked up from the card to see the teacher walk to the girl.

"Well, you can ask someone to be your Valentine, or someone could ask you," she says softly and leans down over the brown headed girls' desk. "You see a valentine can be anyone special to you. A friend, a love, anyone you admire."

The small girl nods thoughtfully and looks back towards you. With wide eyes, you blush and look back to the card you were working on, coloring in a crooked heart on the front.

"Who's your Valentine?" The boy sitting next to you asks, causing giggles from the classroom.

"My valentine," she thinks for a moment and looks around the room. "Well, all of you, of course!" The class laughs again, and you can't help the smile on your small face.

"And who is your Valentine, Pietro?" The teacher smirks at the boy next to you. He doesn't move or cower, but with confidence, he stands and looks at the table next to you.

"Mary, will you be my Valentine?" Pietro asks a tiny girl with glasses and blonde pigtails. Her face turns red as the class laughs.

You can hear them talking as you continue to work on your card, putting extra care into the portrait inside. To anyone else, it was a child's drawing, but to you, it was your best work. You finish coloring, and with your best handwriting, you sign the card, adding a few more hearts.

Pietro nudges your shoulder, causing you to close the card quickly.

"That was easy! Who is yours?" he smiles and tries to grab your card.

"Pietro, stop!" You groan as you push him away, the two of you laughing as you play. He finally gives up, and you hold the card to your chest.

"Fine, don't tell your best friend.." Pietro says and shakes his head, smiling.

At the end of every day, you meet the Maximoffs out front of school to walk home. Today, you were met with only Wandas smiling face.

"Where's Pietro?" You ask as the two of you begin to walk side by side.

"He's walking with Mary ," Wanda giggles and jumps over a large crack in the sidewalk. You think back to earlier when she asked the teacher what a valentine was, and you stopped walking.

She gives you a curious look as you take your backpack off and set it on the ground, opening it up.

"I um.. I have.. well, here," you manage to get out, handing the card you so carefully made to Wanda. She smiles as she takes it from you, staring at the heart on the front. When she opens it inside, she sees a drawing of the two of you, the words inside:

Thanks for being my best friend

Will you be my Valentine?

To: Wands

From: Y/N

The writing is messy and crooked, as you were a better artist than you were with words. By now, your backpack was back on, and Wanda looked to you with a wide grin.

"Of course I will!" She laughs excitedly and throws her arms around you in a quick hug. A weird feeling in your stomach happens as she does, but you ignore it and hug her back.

Wanda takes your hand and begins walking again, swinging your hands back and forth and holding the homemade card in her other hand.

"Y/N?" Wanda asks as the two of you reach her house.

"Yeah, Wands?" You smile at her and watch as she picks a red flower out of the bush in her front yard. She hands it to you with red cheeks.

"Since we're best friends, we should be Valentines every year." You take the flower and smile.

"Every year?" You ask her. Wanda nods quickly.

"Okay then, Valentine. Every year!" The two of you laugh and go your separate ways.

17 Years Old

You stand at your open locker, switching out books between classes when a person hits their back against the locker next to yours.

"What are your plans tomorrow?" He asks and raises an eyebrow, signature smirk on his lips. You think about the card in your backpack and shrug, looking to the blonde haired boy.

"I don't think I'm doing anything this year," you mumble. Pietro frowns and gives you a confused look.

"I thought you and Wanda always do something?" He asks, and you sigh, looking away.

"She'll probably do something with Jarvis. He is her boyfriend..."

"Oh whatever, the guys a loser," Pietro scoffs and looks at you with a knowing eyes.

"Did you ask anyone else?" He asks, again, knowing.

You shake your head. "Not this year."

You look up at him and follow his gaze down the hall. Wanda stood talking to Jarvis, seeming to have a heated discussion. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head at the boy.

"Hey, I can be your Valentine. I mean, close enough to Wanda, right?" Pietro smiles at you, and you raise an eyebrow, cheeks heating.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you shrug and close the locker. He laughs.

"Oh, you're right. I have no clue that you're in love with my sister, my mistake," he puts his hands up in defense, another smirk on his face. "I'm not as dumb as you two think I am. Certainly not as dumb as her for not getting it...." Pietro puts a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"Is it that obvious?" You groan and rest your head against his shoulder. He hugs you tightly.

"Painfully..." He chuckles.

So there you sat on Valentines Day in your bedroom, for the first year without a Valentine.

Every year you and Wanda would do something together, you would always make her a card. She would always get you flowers. Maybe you would watch a movie or take a walk to the 24/7 dinner that serves your favorite pancakes.

You had two partners before, both cut short due to the fact that your heart belonged to someone else. Wanda also had boyfriends and girlfriends before, but they never stayed together long enough to matter, and she never seemed to have one during Valentines.

You knew eventually it would happen.

Eventually your best friend, who you were deeply, fucked up ridiculously, in love with, would be with someone else. You hadn't told her how you felt, because you didn't want to ruin what you had... you weren't sure if she felt the same way and you couldn't risk the friendships of the two most important people in your life.

So you were trying to be okay with the fact that you were by yourself. You put on a stupid cheesy rom com on your laptop and pulled the blanket up on your chest. Trying not to think of Wanda.

A noise against the window disrupts your train of thoughts. You groan and turn up the movie, but the tapping sound happens again, and again.

Until finally, you hear a 'crack' and sit up quickly. You turn to your right to the window and see a small crack in your window, thankfully not splintering off into more cracks. When you walk over and look outside, you see Wanda down below with her hands on her mouth. You open the window and look down at her with a surprised expression.

"Wanda.. what are you doing here? And why are you breaking my window?" You whisper down to her.

"Oh my god, I-I'm so sorry! I was trying to throw rocks! You know? Like in those movies you love!" She's laughing nervously now, and you can't help but laugh with her. "Can I come up?" She asks, and you nod, waving your hand.

You quickly step back to check yourself in the mirror, running your fingers through your messy hair and groaning at the sight of your red looking eyes. You rub them a little as you hear Wanda climbing into the window.

"That tree gets harder to climb every year," she mumbles to herself and plants her feet on the floor, smiling at you. The two of you stand staring for a moment in silence.

"Hi..." Wanda whispers, coaxing you as she takes a step forward. You roll your eyes playfully and laugh.

"Hi..." You whisper back, looking to her hand behind her back.

"You um, you didn't make me card this year," her voice is soft, tone almost hurt sounding. You look around the room and shrug.

"I wasn't sure if I should." As you speak, she holds out a red rose, the same rose she gave you every year from the bush in front of her house. You take it with a smile, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach as her fingers brush against yours.

"Well, it's okay, you're still my Valentine." Wanda speaks matter of factly and puts her hands in her jean pockets. You raise an eyebrow at her.

"But what about...?" You ask, hinting to her boyfriend. Wanda nods and hums.

"Well, we uh, broke up yesterday."

"Wanda.. why didn't you tell me?"

"Why do you keep calling me that?" She asks back, ignoring your question. You frown.

"Your name?" You raise an eyebrow, confused. Wanda moves to sit on the edge of your bed, resting her hands on her knees.

"You've called me Wands since we were 10 years old. The past couple of months, you haven't said it once..."

And there it was again, the hurtful tone of voice and sad green eyes. Had you really not? The couple of months she's been.. dating Jarvis. You've been trying to hold back, you hadn't even realized.

Instead of speaking, you turn your back and reach for your backpack by your desk, pulling out a homemade card. With red cheeks, you hand it to her, standing in front of her nervously.

Wanda smiles at the front, a detailed heart on the cover. Inside was an intricate penciled portrait of her, down to every detail. The smile lines on her cheeks, the few freckles, that could have formed a constellation, spread on her face. She half gasped half chuckled as her fingers traced the lines, along with the heartfelt words you wrote beside it. At the bottom signed:

Thanks for being my everything

Will you be my Valentine?

To: Wands

From: Y/N

"You know, for such an amazing artist, your handwriting still looks like it did in grade school," she jokes as she looks up at you. You finally break a smile at the comfort of her joking demeanor. You sit next to her on the bed and stare at the rose in your hand.

"I don't think it'll ever get better," you sigh with a chuckle, feeling her shoulder press against yours. There's a quiet moment before she speaks again.

"I couldn't see him being my Valentine," Wanda speaks quietly, turning to face you. You do the same, heart in your throat. "I couldn't see him being my anything, really..." She leans closer, you can smell the scent of her cinnamon gum and vanilla perfume as she does.

"Oh?" You swallow hard as her face is inches from yours. She nods slowly.

"There's really only one person I want... but I don't know if she feels the same," Wanda mumbles, eyes glancing from your lips back to your eyes.

"I'm sure anyone, especially her, would love to have you," you whisper, feeling her arm move around your waist.

"You think so?" A small smirk on her lips makes the butterflies in your stomach flap their wings.

"Definitely..." You nod, bringing a hand up to caress her cheek.

It's when Wanda leans in and closes the space between you, her soft lips moving against yours, that the butterflies inside of you soar.

21 Years Old

Wanda giggles as she pulls you inside her bedroom, shutting the door. She wastes no time pressing your back against it, her lips attaching to the curve of your neck.

"Happy Valentines Day, babygirl..." Wanda whispers against your skin. You smile and grip onto the back of her shirt tightly.

"Happy Valentines, Wands..." You rasp out as she sucks harshly on your pulse point. "Oh! Y-Your card," you moan as her hands find their way under your dress.

Wanda pulls back with a smile, "Y/N, do we really need to worry about the card right now?" You take in her puffy red lips and darkened eyes, the way her hair was already ruffled from when your fingers tangled through the strands. She looked like she wanted to devour you.

"I um guess we can probably worry about that later," you giggle and lean in.

"Thank god," She laughs as she meets you, kissing your lips with the same passion she always did. You can taste the alcohol on her tongue as she slides it into your mouth. Wanda lifts your dress up your thighs, her knee pressing between your legs.

"I'm so glad you wore this pretty dress to dinner," she groans into your mouth, grabbing your hips and pushing them down. You grind yourself onto her thigh, feeling yourself become wetter with every move of her leg.

"Just for you, baby," you moan and hold onto the sides of her neck, fingers brushing against her sharp jaw.

"That's right sweetheart move your hips- just like that, fuck you're so pretty..." Wanda purrs and lets her lips travel back to your neck. You feel the burn in your stomach become hotter, coiling up inside as your clit rubs against the rough fabric of her pants. You can't help the whimper escape your lips as your desperation builds.

"Wands, I need you to touch me please," you beg.

She doesn't waste another minute taking you to her bed, the two of you undressing each other as you stumble backward giggling. You loved that about Wanda, how comfortable she always made you feel in every moment. That even in the most intimate of moments, you could still laugh.

You lay your head down onto her pillow, the tantalizing smell of vanilla and Wanda invading your senses, as she crawls on top of you. She kisses every inch of skin she can, whispering sweet words as she does. Your hands grab onto any part of her that you can, nails scraping the skin of her back.

"Just like that baby?" Wanda smirks as two fingers slip inside of you, pumping in and out at an even pace. You moan at her words and nod, holding onto the back of her neck.

"Y-Yes just like that fuck!" She watches your chest become red, spreading up to your neck and cheeks. Wanda would never get tired of that fucking blush. It only drove her to move her fingers faster, curling them inside of you as she did. Her mouth collides against yours in another heated kiss, the two of you moaning into the other.

She feels you tighten around her fingers and whispers, "Cum for me babygirl. That's it, that's it baby.." coaxing the orgasm out of you.

Wanda gives you a moment to come down before removing her fingers. As she kisses your jaw, you let out a happy sigh.

"Let's try it out," you whisper, nodding your head in the direction of the new box on her end table. Wanda pulls back with a glint in her eye.

"Yeah?" She smiles widely, and you nod, watching her closely as she stood from the bed.

You don't think you would ever get over seeing your girlfriend, bare for your eyes only. She was beautiful, the most perfect woman alive. It doesn't take long for her to climb back on top of you, this time with a strap attached at her hips.

"It might be a little bit uncomfortable at first, but it'll feel so good," she assures as she presses the tip up and down your slick folds, your arousal wetting the plastic cock easily. "Just tell me if it's too much, okay?"

Wanda gives you a serious look, making your heart swell at the care she took in you. You nod, "I will Wands," you whisper and watch as she smiles.

She slides it in slowly, pausing to check on you as she stretches you out. The feeling was new and unexpected. Wanda peppers your face with soft kisses and praises you as you become adjusted.

"You're doing so good for baby..."

"Almost all of it, just a little bit more..."

"There you go, that's it, sweetheart..."

As she bottoms out inside of you, her hips meet yours, a moan leaves her lips at the feeling of the strap rubbing her deliciously. You reach your hands up to move the fallen strands of brown hair out of her face and your arms wrap around her sides. Wandas soft hands move to fold your legs around her waist, you feel her move deeper inside of you.

"You okay?" She asks carefully, looking down at you.

"I'm okay, it-it feels good," you rasp out as she begins to move a little faster.

"Just- fuck -just tell me if it's too much okay baby?" Wanda moans and the look on her face, the pleasure between her parted lips and furrowed brows would be enough to draw out another orgasm.

You lean up and kiss her again. It's a messy kiss as the two of you begin breathing heavier, Wanda finding a steady rhythm as she thrusts inside of you.

"Christ, Wands, it feels so good," you moan into her mouth.

Her arm slides underneath your shoulders, bodies pressing impossibly close as she rocks into you.

"I love you so much, so much," she breathes against your skin, her lips attaching to your neck.

Your fingers dig into her skin, one hand scratching up her back as you hold onto the back of her neck. "I love you - oh god! - so much baby," you stutter out as her pace quickens, another orgasm quickly approaching.

The way she held onto you, the kisses she left on your skin, the whispers of how beautiful you were, you had never felt more loved in your whole life. As Wanda kisses you again with a smile on her lips, you feel the love you held for her swell in your chest, the butterflies in your stomach going wild at the sounds of her moaning your name.

You look over at the alarm clock on Wandas' nightstand, seeing 3am. She has her arms wrapped around you, both of your legs tangled together as you turn back to face her.

"We stayed up all night," you giggle with red cheeks, looking at her peaceful demeanor. Your finger runs across her chest, marking a path from the marks you left on her skin.

"Totally, totally worth it," Wanda chuckles and scrunches her nose. You can't help but lean forward to kiss it. "You know what I could really go for right now?"

She smiles at the way your eyes light up excitedly.

"Pancakes?" You ask.

"Pancakes."

So there you were at almost 4 in the morning at the dinner you had shared many pancakes with Wanda over the years, sitting in the same booth, dressed in one of Wandas shirts and a pair of her sweatpants.

You slide her homemade card across the table.

"For you, my love," you smile brightly at her, watching eagerly as she reads the card and brushes her fingertips over the drawing inside.

"I think this might be your best handwriting yet," Wanda jokes with a smirk, acting shocked when you throw a napkin at her. "I love it so much." She holds it to her chest, meaning it.

"I um, I got you something a little different this year," she says quietly, her cheeks becoming a light shade of pink. You look curiously as she reaches for something in her pocket.

She sets a small velvet box on the table, and your eyes go wide at the sight of it. "Wanda..." You whisper, her eyes going wide too.

"It's not exactly what you think! Its.." She puts her head down and laughs to herself, amazed she still had nerves when talking to you after all these years. "Here," she says and hands it to you.

You open the box to find a gold ring. The band was made of little gold metal leaves and thorns, at the top sat a red gem.

"It's a rose that will last forever," she says as you stare at the ring. "There will be more flowers, and there will be another ring, in the future." She makes clear and reaches out to take your hand, sliding the ring onto your finger. "For my little Valentine, a rose for every day."

Tears well in your eyes at the sentiment, at the way she softly held onto your hand and looked at you with a gentle smile. Her green eyes shimmer in the dim lighting of the old diner, the blue lights that lit up the sign outside highlight the angles of her face.

Looking at the smile on Wandas lips and the blush on her cheeks is enough for the swarm of butterflies to take flight inside you, beating their delicate wings against the walls of your stomach.

25 Years Old

"Please go check on her for me? It'll make me feel better if I know she's okay," Wanda says to her twin, fixing the bowtie that lay crooked on his shirt.

"Sestra, you have nothing to worry about. Y/N is in the other room right now, totally fine," Pietro says with a comforting smile. He leans in to kiss Wandas cheek, stopping at the door before he walks out to give her another look. "You really do look beautiful..." He says softly.

Wanda smiles as she looks in the mirror then to him, her skin reddening under the white lace.

"Thank you, Pietro..." She whispers. He nods, leaving the small room to walk down the hall to yours.

"Alright, Y/N, you ready to -" Pietro stops as he shuts the door behind him. He watches as you look over to him with a sad smile, a few tears falling down your face. You quickly wipe them away.

"Hey, sorry is it time?" You ask with a small sniffle. Pietro raises an eyebrow.

"You aren't walking out on my sister, are you? Cause that will be really awkward for both of us."

You can't help but chuckle at his joke, feeling relief when he steps closer and pulls you into a comforting hug. He gives you a moment to cry on the shoulder of his tux, resting his cheek on the top of your head.

As he looks around the empty room, he realizes the reason for your tears.

"They aren't coming, are they?" Pietro sighs and hugs you tighter as you shake your head no.

"Well, no worries... I happen to be great at walking girls down the aisle." He pulls back, signature smirk on his face.

You wipe your eyes as you look at him, "Really?"

"Y/N, we've been best friends forever, I already think of you as my sister..." He chuckles and hands you a tissue.

As you wipe your tears, you look up to the man, seeing the little boy who grew up beside you all those years ago. The one who teased you about everything, playful fights in the halls. The one who was always the shoulder to cry on. The one who always made you laugh when you needed to smile.

"Thank you, Pietro. For everything." You sigh and hug him again, thanking God for the Maximoff twins.

"Now... I told Wanda you were doing totally fine in here, so we're going to keep that lie going."

You finally smile, and when it reaches your eyes, Pietro grins, holding his arm out to you.

Wanda smiles as her father kisses her forehead, dropping her off at the altar. Although, it fades as she looks beside her parents to see a missing spot. Her eyebrows furrow as she looks for her twin, worry getting the best of her as her eyes search for him.

But when she looks down the aisle and sees the woman who held her heart, arm in arm with the man who was her other half, she can't help the tears that stream down her cheeks or the smile that takes over her face.

"When we were 10 years old, you handed me a card and asked me to be your Valentine," Wanda says and takes your hand in hers, squeezing tightly. "I told you since we were best friends we should just be each others Valentines every year."

Guests around the room chuckle from their seats, a blush forms on your face at the memory and the way her green eyes hold so much love for you as she stares into your own. The world around you blurs, and time seems to stop as the words leave Wandas mouth. In that moment, it truly was just the two of you.

"So I'm saying now, that I want to be your Valentine forever."

The two of you exchange rings, and Wanda slides another band next to the rose ring you already wore.

On this Valentines Day, you say "I Do," and listen to the same two words slip her tongue.

And when instructed to kiss the bride, she wraps her arms around your lower back and pulls you to her, kissing you as if she wanted to convey a lifetime of affection in that one moment. With each kiss, Wanda could feel your love pouring into her a warmth spreading through her body like sunlight on her favorite summer day.

Amongst the cheers and applause of both of your loved ones, you felt the same feeling you always did inside of you when you were with Wanda, a kaleidoscope of butterflies in a storm.

32 Years Old

"Ohh sweetheart, just like that fuck!" Wanda half whispers half moans, her fingers tangling in your hair as you continue to let your mouth devour her. Your hands hold onto her thighs, keeping them spread as you lick upwards and suck on her clit.

A soft sigh escapes her lips, her back arching in response to the sensation. A gentle blush spreads across her cheeks as she looks down to see your eyes were already on her, watching her reaction. You hum against her, the vibrations causing her to surrender to the pleasure.

"Baby I'm gonna cum! Don't stop, please - oh god," she says and feels your hand reach up to cover her mouth.

With each breath, she feels a wave of bliss wash over her, a symphony of pleasure leaving her lips. You moan against her, your tongue lapping up everything she'll give you.

Wanda lets out an exasperated laugh as you finish, covering her face with her hands. You smile up at her, lips wet with her arousal as you chuckle at the sight of her.

"I told you I wanted breakfast in bed this morning," you grin, and she laughs even harder, catching her breath. You grab her hand and kiss the finger that wore her wedding ring.

"Happy Anniversary, Wands..." You say with a cheeky smile. The blush stays on her face as she leans up to kiss you, tasting herself.

"Happy Anniversary, my little Valentine," she smiles into the kiss and wraps her arms around your neck.

"About that..." You say with a joking wince, looking at the confused expression on her face.

"So you aren't going to ask me to be your Valentine this year?" Wanda pouts and gives you her best sad eyes. You kiss her nose.

"Unfortunately, you're going to have to share," you say, and at the realization, Wanda nods. Her heart flutters in her chest as she looks at you with a soft smile.

"I suppose we will have to share, won't we?" Wanda giggles, and you can't help but laugh as you hear small knocking on the door to your bedroom.

The two of you quickly help clean each other up in a fit of giggles and kisses, and as you walk to the door, you both hear the voices of tiny whispering from behind the wood.

"What color is yours?"

"Mom likes red so I did that,"

"But I did red too!"

"It's fine yours is different!"

You open the door to reveal the other set of twins that held your heart, a smile on your face as you see the pair holding a piece of paper each.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" You ask and watch as Tommy runs in the room, jumping on the bed into Wandas arms. Billy just smiles up at you, and you chuckle with a small shake of your head as you lift him up.

"We made you Valentimes Day cards!" He beams at you, his eyes sparkling with pride. Your eyes meet Wandas at his adorable pronunciation of the word, a small silent laugh shared between you as you carry him to the bed.

As the four of you sit in the bed, boasting over your boys handmade cards decorated with crayon hearts and crooked letters of messages with love, you feel the purest form of love.

You look from the twins to your wife, feeling her squeeze your hand as her eyes set on yours. A surge of gratitude and love wash over you.

You think back to all of the Valentines leading up to this one, wondering how you could've gotten so lucky. You felt lucky to be surrounded by so much love, to know what it felt like to be loved.

Wanda leans over and kisses your cheek, seeing the overwhelming happiness in your eyes.

"Our two little Valentines," she says with a chuckle, kissing the top of the boys head.

[md3artjournal]

7:33 PM 2/14/2024

At the end of my daily walk today, I felt disappointment when I saw that no one had yet Liked my Sora Valentines Day figure photo, that I rushed and postponed my daily walk to get posted.

Now, I had to be honest with myself. Yes, at the time, the thing on my mind was proving TO MYSELF that I was capable of SOMETHING. At least this one, seemingly little thing, of posting a picture quickly, before starting my daily walk. Yes, after my unexpected nap, I had very little daylight left for my daily walk, and underestimating the prep time and posting process of a photo was pushing back my daily walk's start time, further into the dark. But I had to prove to myself that I was capable of something, that I could accomplish something. …Didn't I? But maybe in my subconscious I also had in mind the eyes that would be on this photo. It was a Valentines Day card on Valentines Day. And the day was already mostly over. It was nighttime. It was even dark outside. If I wanted my Valentines Day card to be seen on Valentine's Day, then I had to post it as soon as possible. Thank goodness I stayed up a little later during my all-nighter, earlier this morning, to post my Joker Nendography Valentine's Day card. …So some part of me, was conscious about posting this FOR OTHER PEOPLE. But, dude… No one is going to get mad at you, and you won't get penalized for posting late or even at all! …But _I_ would feel less accomplished. _I_ would feel the weight of another thing piled onto my long list of failures and incapabilities. ;_; I was doing it for me.

But also near the end of my daily walk, I saw Good Smile Company post the results of their recent Valentine's Day themed "Love in Focus" figure photography contest. All my all-nighters recently, started with trying to make submissions for that contest. None of my pictures even got chosen for the slideshow of entrants who didn't become finalists. But the thing is…When I remember pulling that all-nighter and doing my figure photoshoots for that contest, I WAS HAVING SO MUCH FUN. When the midnight deadline came around for the contest, I kept going with my photoshoot ideas and taking more photos, because it was fun. This activity was FOR ME. Not the contest. Yes, the contest facilitated my fun by prompting me with project parameters. But I was having so much fun doing the photoshoots and coming up with ideas for my photoshoots. I even remember being struck with how much fun I was having, to make entries for this contest, but REGARDLESS of this contest, so much so that I had to post about it on Tumblr. It was a good time. ^_^

So I don't feel bad about not getting chosen to be featured in GSC's slideshow. Heck, I can objectively say that my pics weren't that good, especially compared to the other entrants. And honestly, I really enjoyed seeing everyone else's photos, much more than the idea of getting voted for or winning the contest. I should be honest: I was using the contest as a prompt, as motivation, as a GAME of seeing what photoshoots I could come up with, while staying within the rules of the contest. Actually, my favorite thing about Nendoroids---besides being cute chibi---and Figma is switching parts, which this contest didn't allow. So I was surprised what a fun game it was to try to think of photoshoots I could be proud of and stay interested in, while limited to only the figure accessories that each individual figure came with. These contests have become fun, regardless of whether I win or not.

Not that I don't try to win. During so many of these contests, I don't have the time or energy to do a photoshoot. For "Love in Focus", I was originally only going to enter old photos, since the contest allowed that. But as the deadline neared, I suddenly felt motivated to do more. So I started some last-minute new photoshoots. But the thought running through my head isn't that I want to win, it's that I don't want to be the person who doesn't even TRY. I don't want to turn into the person who gives up before even trying. And after I submitted my older photos, I began to get this sneaking itch that not even trying to do a new photoshoot for this contest, felt like "not even trying". Not trying, would be equivalent to accepting that all my art was bad and I could never create anything that had any chance of winning any contest. I didn't want to not try. I didn't want to accept myself as a failure with no hope. It was just another thing to prove to myself.

Actually, this reminds me of my Faebruary drawings.

For the past few years, despite formerly having success and a satisfying sense of accomplished self esteem from doing a drawing challenge EVERY MONTH, I've started to have a lot of burn out. And these burn outs have tended to happen more predictably, after Inktober.

I used to do Faebruary, sometimes Magical March, make up my own challenge #AprilAngelsAndDemons, MerMay, my own challenge #JuneBridesGrooms, World Watercolor Month in July, Smaugust, my own challenge "#OTPtember in September, Inktober, Huevember---every year. And I liked it. That daily sense of accomplishment from drawing everyday, was sometimes the only thing holding up my self esteem. But also, I knew that if I stopped, my drawing skills would worsen. But also, if I kept it up, I could watch my drawing improve. Even if my resulting skills weren't visibly improving, I could tell that I was drawing FASTER, more EASILY, I was LESS AFRAID to start drawing, at any given time. And if I could just maintain that confidence, then I knew that I could tackle improving my drawing skills next.

I usually burn out from daily drawings in December, January, March, June, and July. My only drawing challenges for those months are the ones I made up for myself, so I feel less accountable to drawing daily. But also, it's difficult to find that extra push to draw---when I'm tired, it's almost midnight, and I'm again battling my low self esteem, telling me that my resulting drawing will be so bad, it'll only prove what a failure I am---when there isn't a whole community to participate in. For someone so isolated and socially anxious, it surprises me how much I'm motivated to create art only when I have a community, waiting to see my art, eager to interact, and give positive feedback. The same thing happened with my fanfic writing: I did A LOT while I was in an active community; I suddenly stopped doing as much fic writing, when I became disconnected from that community (moved out of dorms's free 24hr internet). It's easier to find that extra push to draw, even when I'm tired, even when there's only 5 minutes before midnight, or even it's it's already past midnight, when I know the Inktober community or the MerMay community are looking for art, just like mine. And yes, I want to do it for myself. That's where I get the little push to start a drawing, even 2 minutes before midnight, just so I could say to myself that I drew "everyday"---even if it'd be more convenient to wait half an hour, to be done eating, then start drawing, even if it would then be 12:30am.

I try to draw everyday, but from November thru January, I usually have a burn out from drawing. It's so hard to get back into drawing, that I sometimes forget about Faebruary, even though I love drawing butterfly wing fairies among flowers. And I always draw my current OTPs as chibi fairies for Faebruary. But this year, Faebruary 2024, I had a new OTP that I had never really drawn before, besides some redraw studies of official art and 1 completed synthesis sketch, that was still just a doodle. This Faebruary, I was in uncharted territory AND severely out of practice. But I had something to prove to myself. I had to try. Because I love my OTPs. They give me joy and allow me to experience so much fun, whether that's in the fandom community or just looking back and being reminded through my fanart, of my own headcanons (and unwritten fic ideas). And the thing that surprised me this Faebruary, out of practice and still learning new characters…is that I accomplished a lot. I was 8 days behind, when I finally remembered Faebruary this year, but I somehow managed to draw 6 full-color drawings in one night. O_o! Then 3 full-color-drawings the next day. And 2 full-color drawings the next night. O_O Drawing catch-up DOES NOT usually come this easily for me, unless I take serious shortcuts with my drawings. Like no coloring, no props, no background elements, single characters. I am flabbergasted how quickly I caught up to the challenge this month, and that each drawing is a full, complete drawing. (Granted, I usually skip full backgrounds. But the fact that I drew any environmental elements at all, on days when I had to do multiple catch-up drawings, is kind of crazy to me.) I felt like I was plunging into the deep end on this month's challenge, given my 2 disadvantages right now. I am amusedly perplexed at my results so far. I'm still well aware that my objective skill level is still bad, but FOR ME, these results AND the ease with which I was able to return to drawing, is amazing to me.

I think what I'm trying to say is that even though my anxiety always keeps my low self esteem on my mind, I didn't think so much about my unconfidence, as much as I thought about wanting to TRY. I wanted to draw my new OTP. I wanted to draw flowers and butterfly wings. I didn't want this month's challenge to pass by without me even trying. I didn't actually think about how the fandom community might react, if they would even like it, or give me the positive feedback that my self esteem craved. I was thinking that I wanted to learn to draw my OTP, not lose my drawing skills, and just be capable of something.

I'm actually kind of glad if that's my real focus, because objectively speaking, all my art is bad. My drawing, my photography, my writing… It's all bad. And I can say that, because I have a 4 year degree in art, that pretty much taught us the ability to objectively evaluate our art, so we could know what to work on. Now, whether I'm able to improve, is a whole other matter of motivation, that I'm completely lacking in. lol But I'm enjoying making things I love, for my beloved OTPs and to interact with my beloved figure collection. But also to boost my confidence and prove to myself that I CAN accomplish things, if I just try.

As much as I love Star Wars, I never liked that Yoda quote, "Do or do not. There is no try." That works great for someone who already has some confidence and self esteem. But for people starting from zero, depression and low self esteem is telling us that everything already is futile. But TRYING is this realm of infinite possibilities. That's Hope.

[cals-laundry]

“What? No nice boys?” “Who says it’s the boys? Maybe it’s me!” Hizashi pops the last bite of his pizza into his mouth and turns to you, knee against your thigh, arm still pillowing the back of your head. He looks over you and nods. “Not you.”

Relationship: Uncle! Hizashi x GN! reader Words: 2,232 Tags: Incest, creepy uncle, breeding

You’re alone on Valentine’s day. Your parents are out for the night, you’d chosen not to listen when they explained where they’d be, instead you denied the mental image and you’ve chosen to enjoy a movie on the couch in a big t-shirt and little shorts for comfort. You fumble with the idea of dinner, but a knock on the door digs you out of the menu on your phone. And on the other side, your uncle seems to have read your mind.

“Well hello there, kiddo!” he holds up a box and you can’t help but crack a smile, “your parents told me they left you here, I’m amazed you answered the door, I thought you’d be havin’ a fun little Valentine’s date of your own.”

“And you still came over?” you step back to leave him in, “gross, uncle 'Zashi.”

You laugh with him as he closes the door.

“Good uncles keep an eye out for their favourites! Can’t have someone treating you anything less than perfect!”

You roll your eyes, but it’s endearing. Hizashi has always been your favourite. Sometimes, your cousins questioned it, even friends had made comments about how he is with you, but it’s been so long, you never questioned it. Sure, he’s a little hands on, but it’s not creepy, he’s just affectionate! You settle beside him and he hands you a can of soda, but he gives himself away when he’s not wearing his sunglasses. His gaze is on your legs; it slides over them honey slow and he darts his tongue over his lips as if it’ll give him the smallest taste of sweetness.

“I’m not actually interrupting, am I? Hanging out in just a t-shirt sounds like good draw for a boyfriend.”

“Nah, the TV is my boyfriend.”

He thinks for a second, but you cut him off.

“Don’t say it.”

“Say what?”

“I don’t know, but do not.”

He howls with laughter and swings his arm across the back of the couch. The movie plays, and for a while, you simply eat in silence. Then Hizashi breaks it.

“Why don’t you have a date?”

You shrug.

“Don’t wanna.”

“What? No nice boys?”

“Who says it’s the boys? Maybe it’s me!”

Hizashi pops the last bite of his pizza into his mouth and turns to you, knee against your thigh, arm still pillowing the back of your head. He looks over you and nods.

“Not you.”

“What?”

“Look at you!”

“What?!”

He leans in, closer than is even usual for him.

“Look at you; you’re the prettiest little thing. Anyone who doesn’t see that is a fool.”

His hand rests on your knee a moment. A friendly gesture. Then it sneaks higher, higher, until the bottom of your t-shirt brushes against his fingers. Less friendly. Your face must give away your hesitation;

“Don’t tell me no one has touched you even like this!”

“No! I mean, yeah, they have but it’s…” your words trail. What is stopping you?

“You worried I’m gonna ruin anyone else for ya?” his smirk twists to one that’s just a little too cocky.

“N-no, just...you’re my uncle.”

“And who knows you better than I do?”

He has a point. When his fingers poke under your t-shirt this time, you don’t flinch as much.

“I can take care of you,” his head dips and rests against your shoulder, his lips only a hair’s breadth from your neck, “y’want me to be your Valentine, hmm?”

“I-I’m not sure…”

“You always gave me Valentine’s cards when you were a kid, what’s so different now?”

He cups your sex and you whine.

“A lot! I don’t know, maybe we shouldn’t-” your sentence dissolves to another whine when he kisses your neck and presses his hand against you just a little more firmly.

“If you really want me to stop, I will,” he kisses a trail between his words, “but you didn’t even try to cover yourself after seeing your uncle at the door. You gonna tell me you don’t want me, huh?”

He pushes your underwear aside and presses a finger against your already wet hole.

“Oh, you were just waiting for this, huh? You’re as gross as I am, little bird; all ready for your uncle.”

Little bird. An old familiar nickname.

Before you can argue, his finger slips inside and his lips press to your neck again. You try to swallow your hushed moan, but it’s impossible; a second finger joins the first and he knows just how to move them. Your hands tangle in his hair, forcing it out of that looped half tie that’s always seemed so pretty, and he groans against your neck when you give it the smallest tug. But with it, he pulls away, and you wonder how that could be too far when he’s got two fingers inside you. They slip from your hole and he savours the taste for a moment before he turns, sitting normally, straight forward on the couch. Sickening drips of disappointment slide through you and you hate yourself for it. Until you realise he’s fumbling with the buttons of his jeans.

“On your knees; lemme give you another little present.”

You move before you can think. And from here, your uncle looks much bigger, like he did when you were a kid. He shuffles his jeans and underwear lower, and at last, his cock springs out and you swallow. You ignore your mind when it repeats that this is your uncle, this is wrong, this is sick. Instead, you lean forward without prompt from him, and lick a stripe up the pierced shaft of him.

“Oh ho ho, you’re a naughty one, aren’t you? You’ve been practicing, huh? For your uncle?”

You don’t answer. You suck the tip of him until he groans again, and descend on him like you’re starving for it. He hits your throat, and you hear the first words of an apology, a dismissal in case you can’t take it. But you cut him off as you swallow him a little deeper and look up at him as well as you can like this. Tears prickle and tease the corner of your eyes and when his hand cups your cheek, his thumb wipes it away.

“Fuck, little bird, you take it like a champ. Bet you’d let me fuck that little throat of yours until you couldn’t talk, wouldn’t you?”

You nod and his hips snap forward; a small taste of what that could be.

“I’ll take you up on that some other time, birdie. Come up here, sit on your uncle’s lap.”

You stand, legs shaky, but he stops you before actually sit on him. Sneaky fingers slip under your t-shirt again, and he pushes your underwear down your legs until it falls to the floor. It all feels so practiced, so planned. He has his hand on your hip again, and the thumb of the other hooks the front of your shirt and tugs so he can get a look.

“Pretty little thing,” he breathes out the words, “turn around, babe.”

You do, uncertain of his motives, but a hand on your back gives you just enough of a hint. You bend over, spread your legs, and with your hands on the coffee table, your hole is completely on display for him. Between your legs, you catch sight of his hand on his cock, fisting it in quick jerks while he stares. You look away, embarrassed, but there’s a sensation, unfamiliar and surprising, and you realise he’s pressing a sloppy kiss the same hole his fingers had spread.

“So fucking cute and sweeter than candy,” he murmurs before giving your rear a quick bite. His hands, massive on you, grab your hips again.

“Knees on the couch,” all politeness is dropped.

It’s awkward and you’re a little clumsy, but your knees are at either side of his thighs and you keep yourself steady with a grip on his knees. He pulls you down by the hips, slowly, slowly, until the head of him pokes against you.

“Point of no return, little bird.”

He’s offering you an out. It warms your heart, and your brain screams to take it, but your body has no interest in ignoring something so good and so freely given. You press your hips down, but he stops you.

“Turn. Sorry. I wanna see that pretty face when I fill you.”

Another quick shuffle and you’re on your knees, facing him this time, with your hands on the back of the couch to brace yourself.

“Oh you look good on top of me, sweetheart. Come on now, little lower,” you lower yourself, this time working with the tug of his grip and again, he pokes at your entrance. His tugging stops and you take the lead. Inch by splitting inch, you take him. His head falls back against the couch with each one, his jaw slacks, and his only words are a quiet “fuck” when your ass is against his thighs.

“Feels like you were made to take me,” he chuckles through the words. You know he doesn’t want to force you, but there’s a squeeze on your hips again.

You raise your hips and drop them and you’re met with a shuddering breath. His throat bobs as he swallows, but his eyebrows give away his feelings more than anything. Apology.

“I’m sorry, birdie, I can’t hold back anymore.”

He slams himself into you and you choke out a moan. You hoped your control would last, but he’s stronger, he’s faster, he’s more experienced, and most of all, he knows exactly what he wants from you. Thrust after thrust, the heat in your stomach grows, you squeeze around him when you can, you even sneak in a few kisses to his throat in retaliation for his earlier ones. But your moans have mingled in the air; they’ve brought forward fantasies and confessions and they’ve forced your arms around his shoulders and his arms around your waist and you’re nose to nose with him as he fucks into you like he’d die without it. Between moans and grunts, words slip out.

“Fuck, baby, yes !”

“No one else s’gonna touch you, no one, mine, say it, say you’re mine!”

“Love you so much, love you so much, say it, lemme hear it, w-wanna, I need it!”

All peppered with your name moaned in a tone you’d never expected from your uncle. He sees the blotches of blush, hears the change in your moans, and he knows what you need. He changes his angle just a little and with one hand, plays with your most sensitive spot, the one that makes your back arch and your voice high.

“That’s it, little birdie, you wanna cum for me? Yeah? You wanna cum all over me?”

You nod - it’s a frantic movement and your nails dig into where they meet his shoulders.

“Tell me.”

“Wanna cum all over you, please please!”

“Hmm…dunno if that’s good enough,” he chuckles and kisses your cheek, then his gaze fixes between your legs again. Once more without thinking, you cup his cheeks and you press your nose against his.

“Wanna cum all over you, please, I wanna feel your cum in me too, fuck, please, Uncle ‘Zashi,” you kiss him before he can respond, but the groan that rumbles through him is enough to know his answer.

His fingers move faster, his other hand moves to cup the back of your neck, all but crushing you against him while his tongue demands to tease yours, and his cock rubs you just so . All together, it’s too much, it’s too good, and you moan his name into his mouth as the heat from your stomach darts to your extremities and pleasure follows each ripple. His hips don’t slow for even a moment; the fingers that were against you leave(thankfully; it was becoming too much) and that arm wraps around you. You savour his grunts and huffs and moans mingled with the slap of skin on skin. You kiss his jaw, his neck, his earlobe, anywhere you can reach until his hips stutter and he’s so impossibly close but there’s something stopping him. And you know exactly what.

“You’re so close, come on, cum for me?”

He moans your name, you know he’s right there.

“Fill up your little birdie, please, uncle ‘Zashi.”

“Fuck!” his voice breaks and he whines as he pulls you right down against him as his cum fills you and you moan against his ear.

“Thank you thank you, oh my God , thank you, uncle ‘Zashi.”

Breathless, he rests his head against the back of the couch again, and when you stand, your legs are jelly.

“Where y’goin’, kiddo?” he asks with his gaze fixed on the thick globs of cum slipping down your thighs.

“Wanna get cleaned up.”

His face drops for a moment, but you hold out your hand.

“Come with me?”

He stands so fast, he almost falls and you laugh at him.

The consequences can wait. You’re going to enjoy every sordid moment you can until the sun comes up.

He wraps around you in the shower and his fingers play over your skin under the guise of cleaning you. And corny as it is, he presses a kiss to your cheek and whispers "happy Valentine's day, little birdie."

[wishingforatypewriter]

Before the Fall (Chapter 14)

Summary: In which Souma misses a golden opportunity. 

The noon hour Elite Ten meetings were always the worst ones because they coincided with the academy-wide lunch hour. This meant that after hustling from their classes to Totsuki’s Parliament — the Elite Ten’s administrative building — they’d then have to rush back to the academic buildings for afternoon classes.  

It was generally understood that no one got to eat lunch on these days unless they packed something ahead of time. And of course, just as his 10:30 practicum ended for the day, Souma received a one word text message from Nakiri. 

Hungry.

It was 11:46. If he took her up on this — and naturally he would — he’d have only fourteen minutes to cook her something and then haul ass to Parliament. She always did have a habit of asking for the near-impossible. He shook his head at the phone as he typed his reply. 

Don’t complain if I’m late. 

Her response came almost instantly, as though she were waiting for his text. But that would never happen with a girl like Nakiri.

Less complaining, more cooking. I’ll see you in 12 minutes. 

He sighed, taking his uniform jacket back off and glancing around the classroom’s ingredient shelf. Beef shank, noodles, cabbage—easy. 

Nine minutes later, he had two servings of beef yakiudon packed in a to-go container. He had just stepped out into the winter air, calculating how fast he’d have to sprint in order to make it by noon, when a black towncar pulled up in front of the academic building. 

The window rolled down slowly, and Nakiri shot him an impatient look. “Wipe the grin off your face and get in.” 

He slid into the seat next to her without a second thought, but was unable to manage a neutral facial expression. “I thought you were gonna leave me to the wolves.”

“I considered it,” she quipped, crossing her arms. “But if we couldn’t start on time, Alice would just find a way to get everyone off task. Plus it’s freezing out, and you never have the sense to dress properly.”

He smirked at her then. “It’s nice to know you care, Nakiri.” 

“It’s a professional courtesy, and nothing more,” she said. “Now what have you prepared for me today?”

His smirk broadened as he watched her eye the takeout box with interest. “Can’t wait to try it, can you?” 

“Don’t flatter yourself, Yukihira-kun,” she said, though her growling stomach gave her away. She regarded him with a murderous scowl even as her cheeks turned red. 

“Betrayed by her own stomach.” 

“S-shut up! It’s just that I’ve been busy all day and haven’t gotten a chance to eat yet. It has nothing to do with you or your cooking!” 

“Whatever you say, Nakiri,” he told her, leaning back on the leather seats.  

They reached the conference room at 12 on the dot and promptly received death stares from all their lunchless colleagues. 

Unperturbed, Nakiri took her seat at the head of the table, chopsticks in hand. “Let’s begin.” 

The meeting started with a review of the budget allotments for new seminars in the coming fiscal year. Arato and Hayama distributed the budget plans for the eight new seminars they’d approved, and the rest of the council voted in favor of their plan—mostly because no one could be bothered to read the whole document. 

Next they discussed the logistics of upcoming events, including the first year promotion exams in Hokkaido and the alumni banquet. Souma had almost forgotten how much work running the academy could be. 

Towards the end of the meeting, Alice — who was now chair of the campus life committee — made a proposal of her own. 

“So your plan is...a party?” Hayama asked in a skeptical tone after she described it. 

“I’m proposing a semi-formal dance for Valentine’s Day,” she explained. “The Elite Ten will commission the chocolate and candy research societies to produce candy grams that students will use to ask each other to the dance.”

“It seems frivolous,” Arato pointed out. “A cooking event I would understand, but what would be the point of a dance?”

“Excellent question, Hishoko,” Alice said. She turned to the next slide in her presentation. “The event will boost morale on campus before finals start up, and all the proceeds will go to Totsuki’s philanthropic branch. There’s no downside.” 

“This is Japan’s top culinary academy, Alice,” Nakiri said with a dismissive wave. “There’s no time for something like a school dance.” 

“And that’s exactly why the student body needs to cut loose,” the other Nakri heiress said. “No one’s gonna cook their best if they’re all uptight, Erina. It’s bad for creativity. So who’s in favor? Ryo-kun obviously supports me.”

“Sure,” said Kurokiba, who most-likely wasn’t even paying attention. 

“I’ll support it,” Takumi added. “I haven’t been to a semi-formal since I left Italy.” 

“Um...” Megumi began. “I really like the idea of all the proceeds going to charity, so I’m in favor as well.”

And once Tadokoro was on board no one really had the heart to oppose the event anymore. 

“So it’s settled,” Alice said with a broad smile once the vote was won. “Totsuki Academy is going to hold its first ever Valentine’s Day dance!” 

---

A week later, Souma walked into the copy room in Parliament, holding a flyer for the dance and a prototype of the candy gram. It was a small, heart shaped box of chocolates with a card attached to it. Sakaki and Yoshino had gone crazy over the design when he showed it to them earlier. 

“Hey Nakiri, can I ask you something?” he asked once he saw her scanning a document. 

“If you must.” She turned around with her usual pre-annoyed expression, and then flushed suddenly. “Wait, you mean here?” Nakiri cast a meaningful glance at Takumi, who had just come in to print something. 

“Yeah, why not? It’s not like it’s a secret.”

If it were possible, the flush on her cheeks deepened, and she started fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. “W-well, if that’s how you feel about it, Yukihira-kun, I suppose I can’t really object, so...” 

“Great!” Souma held out the candy gram to her and she took it tentatively, her fingers brushing against his as she did. She gave one of those fleeting Nakiri smiles and it unwound all of his thoughts the way they always did. Why was he even there again?

“Get on with it, will you?” she asked with a giggle. 

“Right.” Souma ran a hand through his hair, embarrassed to have been caught staring. “So what do you think of the design?” 

Her expression darkened then. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“You know, for the fundraiser and stuff. The president of the Chocolate RS wanted to run it by the Elite Ten before we start selling them. So do you like it?”

“Oh...it’s fine, I guess,” she said with a sigh. Then Nakiri sidestepped him and walked right out of the room. 

Souma watched her go, perplexed. What was that all about? 

“That was painful,” Takumi said to him after a moment. 

“What? You think she really didn’t like it?” 

“It’s not a matter of the design, Yukihira!” the blond shouted. Souma had almost forgotten how intense that guy could be. “That wasn’t the question she was expecting just now.” 

“But how would she know what I was going to ask?” 

With a beleaguered sigh, Takumi pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a moment. “Repeat after me. Ask.”

“Ask.”

“Her.”

“Her.”

“To the dance.” 

Souma pondered this for a moment before responding. “What’s the point of asking one person if we’re all gonna end up hanging out, anyway? It makes more sense for everyone to go as one big group.” 

“Yes, but you should still ask her specifically to express that you’re interested.”

“Who said I was—”

“Oh please. You’re only slightly less obsessed with her and her god tongue than you are with cooking itself, and it’s about as subtle as a herd of elephants.” 

“You know elephants can actually be pretty—”

“Off topic! The point is, you need to ask her out and soon, or lose your honor as a chef and as a man!” 

After this grand proclamation, Souma looked at his friend curiously. “So who are you asking, Takumi?” 

And with that, he sent his second blond of the day storming out of the copy room. 

[ughthatimagineblog]

When John Met. . .

john mulaney x reader

prompt: you’d loved him for years, before, during and after his fame, but what happens when you close your heart and he tries to win you over? oh, by the way, it’s in front of millions of people. requested: @lundqvistisgod warnings: cursing? kissing? word count:4232 a/n: jesus christ idk why it took me so long to shit this out. it was a beautiful prompt and the idea for the skit came to me from my fave fave fave rom com ever pls enjoy

       You knew you wanted to be a writer, but staring at screens all day with the accompanying hum of machinery is not what you had pictured when you would think of your dream job. It never occured to you that maybe writing isn’t as simple as just “writing”. It had, but of course you were blindsided by the glitz and glamour of the flashing lights you had in your mind when it came to success in your dream career. Writing for Saturday Night Live was a dream… Sometimes. A lot of the time it was constant meetings with producers, stuck up famous people, more writers and interns that didn't know what the hell was going on. But at the same time, neither did you.

       However, there was something off about this draft for next week’s show. It didn’t have a host written in. You looked over your computer to Pete who was also clicking away at his desk. You had come to be quite fond of him over the past couple of years. You were about the same age but you met him when you were also a clueless intern, prime in your senior year of university and he was only slightly more familiar to the studio than you were and just a little bit more outgoing which made him the perfect person to cling onto while you learned the ropes. It didn’t matter whatever you went through, he was there to help and it often saddened you to think of the day he moves on and expands his career without you. It was something you didn’t enjoy dwelling on and out of all the ups and downs you both had been through, you know you’d never trade them for the world.

    One of the biggest issues you’d had that Pete had helped you with was John. Yes, John Mulaney. You’d met him towards the end of your intern years as you were invited back as a full time employee and writer for the show and he changed your life. He gave Pete a run for his money and even caused a little fight between you both while all three of you were first writing for SNL. You had spent so much time with John it drove Pete wild and he didn’t understand it until he drove you to confess your feelings for him. You and Pete knew you hadn’t had much luck with guys or felt so strongly for someone since high school so it was kind of a big deal for you. Alas, it did not last long and you were given the chance to move on as John left the show to pursue his standup career which turned out to be fruitful.

      You remember seeing his shows start popping up on Netflix and then he’d have new ones every now and then, still performing in New York. You even went to see a few a couple years ago. But over time your frequent conversations became, well, less frequent. Every day turned into every week, every week into every month and every month into every year and then not at all. The world kept turning and he had forgotten. 

     By the time he’d returned to SNL to write you’d figured he’d become another washed up celebrity you both used to snicker at. You’d assumed the jabs in his shows were just quips to pander to audiences that were alien to celebrity life and not genuine like they would’ve been years ago. Now he was almost thirty two, much more skilled in his practice and you were closing in on twenty five and still at the same job you started at just with a higher pay raise and a little more creative freedom.

     It pained you sometimes to see him around, to be forced to interact with him. There have been several late nights with your pal Pete where you would just rant about John and how hellish it was having to work with him again. Of course, Pete would listen and offer sage where he could but overall you would do most of the talking. At one point, he asked if you’d even spoken to him to see if your assumptions were true. You admitted you hadn’t. At least not in any way that had been genuine. You worked with him so of course you had to speak with him but not for longer than moments at a time and not for any more than a few words. It was all you’d offer John. It broke you when he left, it broke you again when he changed, something still unconfirmed but you were sure of it, and you couldn’t allow yourself to be broken again. Your fingers flicked the edge of a packet of paper idly as you debated asking Pete for help on the somewhat empty screen plan in front of you. He looked busy, like he didn’t want to be bothered and had better things to do. Besides, you were starting to feel bad about how much you ranted to him. Of course you let him rant to you as well but it was nothing compared to what you needed to let off and you could tell how much it was wearing on him. Little did you know, though, that Pete wasn’t necessarily tired of your rants, he was more tired of being the middleman. John, since coming back to SNL had been coming to him for advice as well. He knew that Pete was your closest friend and wanted to know how to get close to you again so John would go to Pete. They’d exchange emails and text, even going out for a beer a couple times a week all without your knowledge. Well, Pete would have a beer, John would go for the water or tea. If Pete let you find out, he knew just how angry you’d be and how you’d never let him live it down and he’d go down as the traitor friend who let her long time unrequited love just walk back into their lives with no fight. But that’s exactly how it was. Pete and John became really good friends since he had come back and actually found more things in common than just ‘you’. During this formed friendship, Pete learned John actually felt for you. In more ways than he had ever led on.

      You sighed, finally caving in and opened your mouth to ask Pete why there were blanks in the forms when one of the interns walked into the office with a bouquet of flowers. Pete’s eyes quickly looked up from the monitor to the intern and back to you with a questioning look. Only a moment more and you stood. “Um, hi, can we help you?” You said, voice soft. “Yeah, these flowers are for a,” The intern paused to look at the note in her hands. “Y/N.” They looked back to you expectantly. “Oh, that’s me. Are you sure that’s correct?” You asked, doubt lacing your voice as you looked between Pete and the intern. They nodded, showing you the card. Sure enough your name was written in calligraphy and signed, ‘Secret Admirer’. You smiled, furrowing your brows a bit in confusion. “All right. Well, thank you.” You took the flowers from the temp’s arms and set them on your desk, staring at the card.

      “Well?” Pete’s voice jolted you from your train of thought. Looking up from the piece of paper between your fingers you saw his expecting expression. “It’s from a secret admirer.” You laughed, giving the card to Pete. He smiled, shuffling in his seat as he turned it over in his hands. “Someone in the office likes you.” He grinned and you rolled your eyes. “Yeah well, very funny Pete but valentines day isnt until next year.” You turned back to your desk, ready to work again, already forgetting about your earlier question. “It wasn’t me.” His tone was serious. Looking back up at him, his face matched his voice. “You mean this wasn’t a joke?” He shook his head and you returned to your work, noticing your coworker had sent you a couple emails regarding a different project and for the rest of the day, the blanks in the form and the anonymous love had been forgotten.

      For the next week, conversation with John had grown and you realized, maybe, he wasn’t as stuck up as you had previously believed. He was still kind, still funny, and still knew you better than most. But you were still wary, moving farther away when he would get close enough to, what seemed like, hear your heartbeat. Or sometimes he would say something that would edge between friendly and flirty and you’d change the subject, shutting it down before your face could heat up. But even as the interactions frequented, so did the flowers.

       Followed by chocolates, and gifts that were surprisingly personal to you, each coming with a new note that became more detailed over time and by Monday, table work day, it was obvious your admirer was on the writing team for this upcoming Saturday. You smiled as you unveiled the card tucked into the sleeve of the coffee cup before you, which by the way, was ordered to your specific liking. Amused, you turned to Pete, leaning on your desk, reading the note out loud. “I hope you enjoy this special cup of your favorite blend. I’m looking forward to seeing you later today- later today?” You paused, surprised. Pete’s eyebrows shot up as a mischievous grin spread across his face.

       “They must be in the table room for later.” Pete shrugged, leaning back in his chair, biting on the end of his pen with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Must be.” You giggled. “Nice sweatshirt by the way.” Pete said with a pointed look. You looked down and felt your face heat up with the realization. You had bought a shirt online with a reference to one of John’s show’s on it. Despite everything you had claimed, you still admired him and were proud. You were really just scared of getting hurt. “You know it’s nothing to be ashamed of but-“ He checked the time. “We have to get to the meeting.” You nodded grabbing your coffee and the notebook, heading out the door with Pete.

        You were halfway down the long hallway towards the table room when it finally dawned on you. “Oh yeah, Pete, there was a mistake in my forms. Who is the host? The spot was blank?” You asked as he reached for the handle and opened the door. You walked into the room, still waiting for a reply from your friend. You wouldn’t get one. Sitting at the table was two other writers you were not super familiar with and then John. John Mulaney sat at the head of the table. One of the writers turned to you and smiled. “Y/N, John’s going to be our host this week.” Shutdown. Your brain began to shut down. This meant youd work with him more. Every day for a lot longer than just a few seconds. You were so shocked you didn’t feel the hot coffee that was now on your hands as you had squeezed the cup too hard. 

      “Oh, shit.” You cursed, face heating up and the horrid chain of events unfolding before you. John’s face changed from smiling to concerned as he leapt up from his seat to help assist in the cleanup.

    You stood in the breakroom, water from the sink left running as you leaned against the sink while John was applying Neosporin onto your burn. “Does it hurt?” He asked softly, eyes focused solely on the injury before him. “No, not anymore.” You managed to get out. He was so close. Your cheeks felt hot and even though he towered over you, the proximity made him feel small. “I told you, it’s not that big of a deal-“ You were cut off by him shushing you. “Hey, I wanted to help so I’m helping.” You rolled your eyes as he finally made eye contact again. “You’re wasting time.” He scoffed. “Pete and Megan can handle it for a while.” You shook your head and it fell silent. “Nice sweatshirt.” He grinned. “Shut up.” He laughed and your heart clenched in your chest. You loved his laugh. “No animosity. It’s a good bit.” He turned to reach for the bandaid. “Yeah, a lot of people seem to think so.” You said, a hint of venom in your tone.” His eyes shot to yours. “Is there something wrong?” John’s voice has both concern and hurt in his voice.

       “No. Put the bandaid on.” John’s hand withdrew. “No, now I know something’s wrong.” You looked at him and sighed. “You’ve just been gone and you’re different.” You confessed. “I’m different?” You nodded, crossing your arms, flinching and then uncrossing them. He muttered a “Give it here.” before taking your hand again and dabbing it with a cool cloth more. “You left a long time ago and it was hard seeing you go. And then it- you got really really big and famous and soon enough you were just like them.” Your words felt small saying them aloud. His expression was incredulous. “Like them? Like who? Like the people we used to shit on? Y/N, I’m not ‘like them’. I haven’t changed. But every time I’ve tried to show you that since being back you’ve backed away. Pulled away. If anything you’ve changed.” Your head snapped up at him, a ping of hurt went through you.

      “I have not changed. I just don’t know when you’re going to leave again so I’d rather not lead my own feelings on and let you get close to me again just for you to run off again.” Your eyes closed after you finished confessing, only in the back of your mind registering what you had told him.

       “Your feelings for me?” He asked and your eyes opened. “Yes. And I’d rather not re-open that wound if you’re just going to run off again. But thank you, for trying.” You grabbed the band aid from his hands, which were shaking but you were too quick to notice, and left. You left him in that break room with no room for a response or time to register. You didn’t want or care to know his response.

     Saturday finally came and so did the end of working within more-than-close proximity with John. He had talked to you the same amount as the days before, not mentioning what you had told him, treating you just the same and eventually your heart sank at his indirect answer to how he felt in return. But the secret admirer never stopped sending gifts. Another cup of coffee, more flowers, your apartment was filled with them, and more food. By the time your last gift came in today, you marched down to the other writer for Saturday’s episode, Michael’s office to tell him to stop. You knew it was him, especially after Monday. At first it was sweet but at this point you didn’t like him that way and knew you had to tell him.

    You knocked on the threshold and leaned in the frame. Michael’s eyes popped up from his desktop and smiled when he saw you. This was going to be hard. “Hey, Mike, I just wanted to say thank you for all these little gifts but,” You walked further into the room to make sure you two were alone. “I don’t like you in that way. I’m sorry. I just have feelings for someone else and you’re a great guy, and I-“ 

      “Stop, stop, stop. I didn’t send you those gifts.” Michael said, a smile on his face. “What?” He chuckled. “Yeah, those gifts that intern’s been delivering? Those aren’t from me. Thanks for thinking it was me, but they weren’t.” He smiled with a closed mouth before returning to work.

     You left his office perplexed. Who could it have been? Maybe Pete had been doing it as a joke. You would wait until he got off of lunch to confront him and tell him how mean that was but for now there was work to do and a show to air.

      Night fell and Pete returned just as everyone was preparing for places and you nearly stabbed him with your own finger when he got back. “You asshole!” His arms flew up and the couple steps he took back from you were staggered. “What the fuck?” People shoved past as you pressed on. “You sent all that bullshit to me?” Pete’s face turned on a dime as he registered what you implied. “No! I did not!”

      “Do not lie to me, I talked to Michael, he didn’t send them.” You claimed, crossing your arms, brows furrowed so deep you felt like you hadn’t moved your face for ages. “Of course it wasn’t Michael. Michael is gay, Y/N. But that’s not even the top reason why it wouldn’t be him.” You shrugged, throwing your arms and feeling one of them flop to your thigh as your other hand came up to pinch the bridge of your nose. “Then who did?” You released the bridge and looked up with a questioning gaze. Pete only returned with an equally expectant stare.

     It registered and your turned towards the cast hallway in horror and surprise. “No.” Your voice sounded distant, even to your own ears. You stood there, frozen, people bumping into you in a hurry as they passed. What was really ten seconds felt like thirty minutes before Pete sighed. “Yes, it was him.”

       “And you didn’t tell me?”

“He wanted it to be a surprise! He told me this is what he was going to do and holy shit, finally. I was so sick and tired of you both secretly pining for each other like, what kinda bullshit is that?” Pete rambled for a few moments before finding your unresponsiveness a little tiring and walking off. Your feet moved you before your brain did after that. Back to your office, to put away a couple folders given to you by some bustling assistants, cameramen or more interns, then they carried you back while the anxiety built up. You came back to see John take his place, an assistant handed him a bottle of water and he took a drink, catching your eye. The director began to count. You smiled and he waved back and they hit five seconds. The audience was in place, you were next to camera man A, aka James to oversee how well the script ran and soon enough, John began hosting.

             His bit ended sooner than expected and he came straight up to you the moment the cameras were off of him. “Was that okay?” He asked, half jogging up to you, nearly chugging the water he was given. “Yeah, you did great.” You nodded, offering to hold the bottle for him but he shook his head in response. Your head was still reeling, not forgetting about the fact he was the one to send those gifts but not knowing how to ask about it. “I have to do a couple more skits before I can bring you on.” He admitted, signaling you to walk with him. “What?”

       “I talked to Lorne and Don. They agreed to let you do a skit with Aidy and I. It’s close to the end and I talked to Inga. She agreed to do your makeup and hair while I go on to do my other ones.” You failed to speak as he explained and all you could do was stutter. “I won’t even know what to say? This is not what we wrote.” You tried to weasel your way out of it. “It’s an improve. You’ll do fine. Kate comes in around the middle so if you start dying she can help.” He nodded with reassurance as you reached his dressing room and opened the door to meet Inga, Louie and Cara. “Oh god.”

     You waited in his room long after he left. His costume changers were also there to help, which you were booted for, but welcomed back in as he went on. They changed you into your costume which fit you surprisingly well. Well cut skinny jeans and a nice shirt. Inga did your makeup to compliment your face and eyes and your hair to complete everything. “I must be one of the normal ones in this one, huh?” You quipped and Inga just smiled which, admittedly, worried you. Just as you were about to dwell on it too much, the door opened and Stella, the girl you liked to call the cue girl, opened the door and waved you out. Your breath was shaky and steps were uneven as you made the trek to the stage. She informed you they had three minutes until the commercial break was over, the musical guest would introduce the skit and they would signal you to go on with John. You nodded adamantly, not bothering to tell her you knew how the show ran in fear of throwing up the moment you opened your mouth. Three minutes passed faster than they should have and right before you were about to ask about them rigging the clock, John came up, dragged you to side stage and whispered “Break a leg.” You smiled up at him and his eyes found yours with a soft look. It felt safe. The musical guest walked onto the main stage and introduced the skit. “New Years Eve” they had announced and before you could think of how odd it was, considering it was August, they started counting you down from behind the camera and it was also only then you realized the room was packed with extras all wearing party clothes. You recognize the scene immediately.       “When Harry Met Sally.” You muttered. The camera guy’s hands counted down from ten as Aidy rushed you into place. “When John Met Y/N.” She said and winked, walking away. “What?” You asked, panic and confusion now flooded you. The room was so crowded and she was gone before the man hit five. Four… Three… Two… One… Everyone in the room began counting down as the music kicked up and the twinkling of party decor littered the set. Your confusion was appreciated but genuine as John approached you. He had the nerve to drag you into this. Your confusion turned to anger and you no longer cared. “Dammit, John, what the hell is this?” You made a vague gesture around the room. It was improv technically, or at least, you could play it like it was. The look in his eyes told you he knew it wasn’t. “You drag me into your crap the moment you come back like nothing has changed? And you sent me all that other stuff like nothing has happened? Don’t you care about me? Because if you did, you’d know you can’t just walk back into my life like that. It doesn’t work that way.” Your heart gasped. You’d said it. “Well, I do care about you. I care about the way you bite your lip when you get real nervous,” He wasn’t.      “I care about how you can never make up your mind whether you want tea or coffee and how, despite claiming you hate me, you still wear my sweatshirt. And most of all I care about how, even after all this time, your laugh hasn’t changed a bit and even after I leave work and go home to my apartment at night, I can still hear it in my head. Away from home, that's what I missed most. And come to think of it, you are what I missed most and it killed me you never knew how much I loved you before I left.” He finished and it took a few moments for the blood to stop rushing in your ears long enough to realize the crowd had stopped counting and you could hear the tail end of the audience’s ‘awe’. “And all this?”       “Surprise.” He whispered sheepishly, coming close to your, his arms coming up to your biceps as you had crossed your arms earlier. “You’re an asshole, yknow that?” You smiled, as he leaned down to kiss you. “Believe me, I know.” Your lips brushed his and he smiled through the tender kiss before pulling away. The audience clapped as you both pulled from each other. You looked around. “Did you plan all this just to ask me out on a skit?” You realized cameras were still rolling. He nodded and turned to the camera. “That’s right folks, you just witnessed an elaborate plan to ask the love of my life out on a date instead of an actual skit. That’s something you just paid money for. Thank you all for watching… “ You turned away from him and the giggling audience to find Pete off stage. You smiled softly at him and mouthed ‘thank you’. He smiled and winked in return. “... And goodnight!” John finished and came back to kiss you more as the credits rolled and the music resumed. Maybe he wasn’t stuck up, but he was right about one thing. Famous people are weird.

[elisajdb]

Valentine’s Day: Goku and ChiChi

Goku sat at the bar, swirling his drink. It was his fifth drink. It took several drinks before he could even feel a buzz. Not that he was trying to get drunk or that he like drinking but he had a role to play and he was trying to pass time until ChiChi arrive. All of this was her idea. Goku vaguely remembered celebrating Valentine’s Day with ChiChi early in their marriage but after his first death, they stopped. ChiChi wanted to change that. Being it’s their first Valentine since Goku’s death with Cell, ChiChi came up with a fun idea (to her) on how they should celebrate.

 Roleplay.

 ChiChi wanted her and Goku to pretend they are strangers and pick each other up. After several explanations on how to do this, ChiChi gave up and told Goku to wait at this bar in a hotel and let her pick him up. They’ll eat dinner afterwards and spend the rest of the night in their hotel room.

 It was silly to Goku but if ChiChi wanted to do this, Goku was willing to play her game.

 “Is this seat taken?” a familiar breathy voice spoke.

 Goku turned to see a pair of large feminine breasts covered in a silky red dress staring at him. Goku’s eyes moved up over the breasts to the face of his wife smiling at him. Deliberately, his eyes fell back to the breasts confined in silk. Two buds poke from the soft fabric. No bra. Remembering the game, Goku sheepishly smiled, “Uh, no. You can have it.”

 ChiChi took her seat, deliberately bouncing which allowed her breasts to bounce up and down with Goku’s eyes following the bouncy flesh. “Thank you. Beautiful night.”

 Goku looked away from ChiChi’s breasts and focused on his drink. “I suppose.”

 “You suppose?” ChiChi gave her order to the bartender. When he left, she turned to Goku, “It’s Valentine’s Day. The day of love.”

 Goku shrugged. “Not for everyone.”

 The bartender gave ChiChi her drink. She brought the glass to her lips, “Oh, did something happen?”

 “I got dumped.”

 ChiChi lowered her glass. “Oh. Sorry.”

 Goku looked at the bartender. He was gone again to attend to another customer. Goku pulled out index cards in the arm of his jacket and read, “My girlfriend dumped me. She said she couldn’t picture being married to a boring guy like me.”

 Goku turned to ChiChi. Her eyes were wide like saucers. Goku knew he should’ve memorize his lines like ChiChi told him but he didn’t want to.

 He assumed ChiChi would be angry. For a moment, the way her eyes stretched Goku thought ChiChi would start screaming at him. Instead, ChiChi shrugged. Her eyes roam over Goku like a predator. “Her loss is someone else’s gain.”

“Sure.” Seeing the bartender turn in their direction, Goku stuffed the cards in his jacket again. “Are you waiting for your husband?”

 ChiChi sipped more of her drink. “My husband is at the police station. He rather spend Valentine’s Day with bad guys than with me.”

 “A cop’s life is demanding.”

 “Especially on the wife,” ChiChi swallowed more of her drink.

 “Remember the greater good,” Goku improvised. “He’s helping others.” He grinned to himself proud. He was getting good at this.  

 “Helping others?” ChiChi snorted. “And standing me up in this beautiful dress when I’m hot, wet and begging for a fun stick.”

 Goku nearly choked on his drink. He shot a glance at the bartender who stared at ChiChi with an open mouth. A slight smile curved his face. Goku didn’t like that look. It looked like the bartender was going to talk to ChiChi.

 “You’re drinking a lot.” Goku noticed ChiChi ordering a second drink. He knew how ChiChi got when she drinks too much. That probably explained her blunt words earlier.  “Maybe I should drive you home.” ChiChi turned her eyes on him. “Just to drive you home,” he clarified. “You seem like a nice lady and it would be bad for your husband if something happens to you.”

 “I don’t wanna go home. It’ll remind me of how lonely I am. I wanna to stay out.” She winked at him. “You can treat me to dinner and yourself.”

 “W-what?” Goku stuttered. This wasn’t part of the script.

 “You got dumped tonight,” ChiChi told him sipping her second drink.

 “Well, yes….” He cleared his throat. “You didn’t have to point it out again.”

 ChiChi’s voice was husky when she told him, “I think I do.” She tossed her head back and drunk the remainder of her drink in two big gulps. She lowered her glass with a soft clink on the bar table. She turned in her seat so she faced Goku. “Let’s not waste the night. Treat me to dinner. I could use a pick me up.” Her legs crossed before him and Goku blinked. Did she….? Is she not wearing…..?

 Her crossed legs moved too fast for anyone to notice but Goku couldn’t help but look back at the bartender. Did he see? It didn’t seem like it from the look on his face. The bartender waved his hand as if encouraging Goku to go for the invitation.

 Turning back to ChiChi, Goku said, “Um, sure.”

 “Good.” ChiChi signaled the bartender she was ready to pay her tab. Goku decided to finish his drink. “And if I like you enough, I’ll fuck you.”

 This time Goku nearly choked on his drink. ChiChi said they couldn’t use that word. “Huh?!”

 ChiChi leaned forward, smiling predatory at him. “You were dumped for being boring. What better way to prove you’re not by bedding me? A beautiful, voluptuous woman. Probably the most beautiful woman you’ve ever met.”

 Goku didn’t know if ChiChi was improvising or if she is slightly drunk. Remember your part. Remember your part. Play nervous and naïve like ChiChi told you.  “B-but your husband….”

 “Doesn’t appreciate what he has. Never did. But you….” ChiChi grabbed his pants between his legs. Goku jumped at the contact and boldness of ChiChi, “I’m sure you will appreciate bedding me. They say the best way to get over a woman is to get under her; especially one as beautiful as me. Wouldn’t you love watching me ride you?”

 ChiChi was never this brazen before. She always conducted herself with manners. She was always hard on Goku and the family they show their best behavior in public. This wasn’t ChiChi’s best behavior. This was something else. Goku looked away to the bartender who watched the exchange with a gaping mouth. When he caught Goku looking at him, he said, “If you don’t take her up on her offer, you’re a damn fool.”

 Goku nodded slowly and turned back to ChiChi. His voice squeaked. “Dinner first?”

 ChiChi released him. “You’re such a gentlemen. Enjoy a taste of what’s to come.” ChiChi grabbed his tie and pulled him to her. ChiChi pressed her lips firmly against his. The bartender watched mesmerized as the beautiful woman kissed the lonely stranger at the bar. He watched as the woman pressed a hand on the man’s chest, slowly moving down to settle between his legs to stroke him once more.

 When the beautiful woman pulled away, the bartender could’ve sworn he saw the man’s hair turn blonde. It was so brief the bartender figured his eyes were playing tricks on him. The woman rose from her seat and walked away, swinging her hips slightly with the man following after her; his eyes were focused on her swinging hips. The bartender poured himself a drink and quickly swallow it.

 “How come I can’t have hot women like her hitting on me?”

 *****

 Dinner was less eventful. ChiChi knew Goku wouldn’t play along in their game when the food arrived. ChiChi enjoyed how bold and brazen she acted. Normally, she wouldn’t engage in such behavior publicly but ChiChi softened as she gotten older. She realize life is too short to refrain oneself. Goku was always a free spirit. He did whatever he wanted and didn’t care how he looked. ChiChi decided to adopt that behavior tonight.

 After dinner, Goku and ChiChi rode the elevator to their room where they will spend the rest of the night. A shared smiled between the two as their eyes met caused both to break out in laughs. “I still can’t believe you at the bar.”

 ChiChi pointed to herself innocently. “Me?”

 “Yes, you. What you did at the bar,” his mind flashed back to, “I thought you were getting drunk.”

 ChiChi shook her head. “No, that was me having fun with this game. Aren’t you having fun?”

 Goku rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. “I thought it was silly but there’s an odd excitement to it.”

 Holding hands, they stepped off the elevator and walked to their hotel room. Inside, ChiChi stepped out of her high heel shoes. She only had a moment to relax her feet when Goku lift her dress from behind.

 “I knew it! Ya ain’t wearing panties! You did flash me!”

 “Goku!” ChiChi playfully swatted his hand and he dropped her dress. “I had a role to play.”

 “Yeah,” but Goku didn’t like it. ChiChi could’ve flashed the bartender. Goku didn’t like ChiChi flashing any of herself to anyone but him. “But I wouldn’t have liked it if that bartender saw you.”

 ChiChi’s hips swung as she went to her suitcase and searched for her special bag. “There was never a chance at that.” Happy, ChiChi waved a silk black pouch at him. “Shall we get started?”

 All thoughts of the bartender was forgotten as Goku quickly undressed. Now the real fun will began. ChiChi shook her head amused as she undressed as well. Naked, both sat on the bed across from each other.

 ChiChi opened her pouch and let the contents fall on the bed. Several black and white dice bounced on the bedsheet. One black dice read ‘Neck/Ears’, ‘Nipples’, ‘Lips’, ‘Privates’, ‘Inner Thigh’, ‘Ass’, ‘Fingers’  and ‘Stomach’. Another read, ‘Lick’, ‘Blow’, ‘Kiss’, ‘Nibble,’ ‘Suck’ and ‘Finger’. The white dice had various sexual positions on each side.

 Goku took the black dice and placed them in ChiChi’s hand. “You first.”

 “Okay.” ChiChi shook her hand vigorously and rolled the two dice. “Lick. Lips.”

 Goku moved his fingers in a come here gesture. “Lick me.”

 ChiChi laughed as she neared him. “Only your lips.” ChiChi slowly swept her tongue over Goku’s lower lip and then his upper lip. When ChiChi pulled away, Goku pressed ChiChi to him and gave her a full kiss on the lips. ChiChi laughed between the kiss and pushed him away. “Stop. That’s not what the dice said.”

 “Going for extra.” Goku picked up the dice and shook it. “Come on. Suck and Nipples. Come on. Lick and Privates!” Goku threw the dice down.

 Blow. Neck/Ears.

 “What?” Goku groaned. “Do over,” he announced and reach for the dice. ChiChi grabbed them before Goku’s nifty fingers got them.

 “No.” ChiChi held the dice behind her. “Do what it says.”

 “But that’s no fun!” Goku whined.

 “It’s part of the game.”

 Goku rolled his eyes. He blew cool air on ChiChi’s neck. ChiChi shuddered feeling her skin tingle. A soft moan escaped ChiChi’s lips as Goku’s hot tongue suck the tender flesh. “That’s not part of the game.” ChiChi gasped softly as Goku gave the same treatment to her ears. “Ooo,” she breathed as Goku nibbled her ear. It was a weak spot of hers.

 When Goku pulled away, he said, “That’s the fun part of it.” He winked at her. “Your turn.”

 ChiChi shook the dice and tossed it.

 Finger. Stomach.

 “What?” Goku fell back on the bed groaning. “That ain’t nothing! Why couldn’t it be ‘Finger and Privates’?”

 ChiChi laughed as her fingers ran over the washboard abs of Goku’s stomach. “Too bad for you.”

 “You’re not gonna sneak one more in?” Goku pouted.

 ChiChi wagged her finger at him. “I will play by the rules.”

 “Spoilsport.” Goku sat up and grabbed the dice. He rolled it. He grinned when saw what the dice read.

 Lick. Privates.

 “Jackpot!”

 ChiChi flick a dice with her fingers where it rolled on ‘Inner Thigh’.

 “You can’t do that!” Goku reached for the dice. “That’s cheating!”

 ChiChi swiped the dice and held it behind her back. “No. We should work up to that. It’s sexier that way.”

 Goku reached for the dice. ChiChi kept shifting and twisting her body so he couldn’t grab it. “You just said you will play by the rules. Time to play by the rules. Let me lick your privates!”

 “If I do, you know the game will be over. We’ll be playing with the position dice next.” ChiChi shrieked as Goku tickled her. “Stop. Stop it!” ChiChi screamed between her laughs. With Goku’s fingers, he was fast and ChiChi was incapable of fighting back his tickles. The dice fell from her fingers getting lost between the sheets. She turned to crawl away from Goku but he only pounced ChiChi.

 Goku laid on top of her, his nude body against hers. He whispered against her ear, “It’s over now and you’re entitled to some payback for trying to cheat.” Goku turned ChiChi over on her back. A flex of his muscles and a grunt later, Goku hovered over ChiChi transformed into a Super Saiyan.

 It was hard to resist Goku in his base form. Goku as a Super Saiyan was impossible to resist!

 Spreading her legs, Goku licked both of ChiChi’s inner thighs as ChiChi shuddered with anticipation where Goku’s tongue will soon be.

 “After I get you ready, we can play the position dice.” Grabbing the white dice, Goku shook it and tossed it. He grinned at the suggestions. “The first one will be the butter churner and the second one the spider.”

 ChiChi’s eyes widened. “Butter churner?” Sure that position gave her a great orgasm but ChiChi didn’t think that was a position they should start with. Besides, ChiChi wanted to work her body up to that. She wasn’t a young woman anymore.

 “Goku, wai—ahaa,” her protest rolled off into a moan as Goku prepared ChiChi for a long and fun night.

[robronsecretvalentine]

The Latest Scheme

Secret Valentine’s Day Gift for @prettyboysugden

Happy Valentine’s Day Lucy!

The Latest Scheme

Aaron was very frustrated. He had spent most of the afternoon trying to pick a car apart when he realized that there were actually working parts in good condition still on the car. He then had to be careful stripping the car and that had taken longer than usual and he still had another car to strip. He needed to finish this today as the pick-up for them was tomorrow. Adam had scoffed off earlier under the pretense of “needing some time to work on his relationship with Vic” which was mostly him grovelling to Victoria for his latest misstep.

He was hunched under the hood as he heard footsteps on the gravel leading up to the scrapyard. At this time and the way the person was walking, it could only be one person. Well that was it for the cars. They couldn’t be finished by tomorrow and Adam was going to have to take them himself the day after and moan about it. He knew whatever he was here for at this time, it would not end well for Aaron.

He braced himself as he continued to work. At least he could pretend to resist the newest scheme for a bit longer. Who knew if he played his cards right he might even get him to help with the cars!

“I bought you coffee and a scone. Wanted to bring you cake, but there was only one slice left and I wanted that so you have to do with the scone I’m afraid.” Robert said.

Oh this was bad. Aaron definitely needed a lawyer for this if he was being offered coffee and scone for free on a Wednesday afternoon.

“No. I’m not doing it. Whatever it is this time. I am not breaking into you ex-fiancé’s home to steal her dad’s old dirty love letters or breaking into the safe to get his will, and I am definitely not impersonating a millionaire to steal his clients. I am done with your schemes to take over Home Farm. At this rate I will either end up back in prison or killed by that nut-job Lachlan!” his voice raised as he turned to Robert. By the end he was shrieking.  

“Calm down, will ya? I am not asking you anything you paranoid freak! Can’t I just bring my best mate in the whole wide world a coffee and a pastry?” Robert said teasingly with a smirk that Aaron knew meant death and destruction was on the way. He knew his friend well.

He took the coffee and the scone from Robert suspiciously. They both leaned against the half striped car. The truth was that his friendship with Robert had taken him by surprise. Almost one year ago, the two of them had found their ways separately back to Emmerdale. A series of bad decisions and even worst consequences had resulted in their first “meeting”.

Aaron shouldn’t have been surprised on how often they got into schemes together. Criminal activity and misdemeanor was the foundation of their friendship. What was surprising that after accepting a coffee from Robert and a drink on a night out, they had hit it off immediately. Their bickering and Aaron’s temporary absence of “best friend” had resulted in them becoming fast friends. It was a mutually satisfying friendship.

Aaron had convinced Robert to tell Chrissie the truth about his feelings or lack thereof for her and break off the engagement after Lawrence threatened him yet again. Robert however, had taken his advice and blackmailed Lawrence; he would break if off with her, if Lawrence had made him a shareholder in the business. Obviously Lawrence had refused. This was how Robert had come up with the brilliant idea to steal old photographs and love letters of previous lovers that proved Chrissie might not be Lawrence’s biological daughter. Obviously he couldn’t get his own hands dirty and who did he know who could do it? Aaron obviously. That is how Robert ended up a silent partner in Lawrence’s business, the main investor in Holy Scrap (as a thank you to Aaron for his hard work), Diddy Diner (because he was capable of caring for his family, thank you very much), and as of last month, an equal partner in Home James Haulage.

Robert’s interest in Home Farm was no longer necessary but as he was a grade “A” control freak and couldn’t let anything go if he could make more money out of it, he sometime still screwed with Lawrence. Aaron thought it was out of boredom mainly.

Now the reason Aaron was involved, or at least how he justified it in his own mind, was that he was a great friend. Case in point, Adam and how many times he had saved him. Aaron was ride or die for all his friends. That is what Aaron told himself and Chas and Paddy whenever they questioned his friendship with Robert. The truth though, was a bit different.

Aaron was totally in love with Robert. If he was honest with himself, he was insanely attracted to him from the first time he saw him and if Robert would show any indication that he might be interested, Aaron would confess his feelings on the spot. However, he knew Robert was straight. Aaron put it down as another case of unrequited love for best friend. God knows he already had the experience with Adam when they were kids, and as that experience had taught him, he would soon get over his feelings for him and instead become amazing friends. If he could only stop staring at Robert’s lips as he was sipping his Americano, then he would be fine. God those lips were just begging to be kissed.

“So, there is something I need to tell you.” Robert said in a very suspiciously casual manner.

“I knew it! You want me to do something stupid. Why can’t you just enjoy what you have right now and don’t do anything stupid to ruin it?”

“Well because, Azza, I am not someone who can do that and anyway, you wouldn’t like me if I was!”

“Who says I like you?”

“Well you’re still here. And might I add that in all of our shared endeavors, I didn’t really have to persuade you. You could have said no anytime. You are just as bad as me!” Robert said with his signature smug face. God, Aaron could just slap him. Or kiss him. Whichever that would wipe that smugness off his face.

“So go on. What is the price for this coffee that I have to pay? Are we breaking into a bank? Or perhaps organizing a hit?” Aaron said as he continued to sip his coffee.

“Don’t be so dramatic, you dolt! It’s nothing illegal. And certainly nothing that would get us in trouble. So you know that Chrissie has a sister, right?”

Aaron nodded. He knew that when they discovered that Chrissie was not Lawrence’s biological daughter, Lawrence had done anything to keep that information away from his daughters, especially Rebecca, as he was certain that would cause a rift between his daughters.

“Yeah. So?” Said Aaron.

“Well, what you don’t know is that before I got engaged to Chrissie, Rebecca and I used to fool around. It got more serious with Chrissie so I ended it with Rebecca. She didn’t have access to Lawrence as Chrissie did. She stayed away after that until she heard me and Chrissie are done. Now she is coming back. And the thing is that she never really got over me.” Robert said as if he was proud of the fact that someone had difficulty getting over him. Aaron could sympathize.

“So what? You want to blackmail Lawrence some more now? Give me money or I’ll tell your daughter sort of thing?” Aaron said grumpily. He knew Robert had flaws. He would even concede that Robert wasn’t going to win the best person award, but sometimes he wished he had a little bit if decency and not think of money and power all the time. It made Aaron more conflicted inside. He was best fiends (and maybe, sort of, kind of, a little bit, in love) with someone who didn’t bat an eye at blackmailing and emotional manipulation. Well, C’est la vie.

“No you idiot. I’m done with them. It’s actually the opposite of that. See Rebecca texted me a few days ago to let me know she was coming and I quote “so we could finally be together properly” and I don’t want that life anymore. So what I need is something else.” Robert said. Strange thing was he kept his eyes down. It was the first time that Aaron had seen him like this. It was as if like he was almost shy about what he was about to ask.

“Spit it out then!” Aaron said impatiently.

Robert took a deep breath and blurted “willyoubemyfakeboyfrienduntilshegoesaway?”

“You what?”

“Will you be my fake boyfriend until she goes away?” Robert repeated slower this time.

Aaron was gobsmacked. On one hand that was the most outrageous request he had ever heard and he just wanted to laugh out loud. On the other hand, this was the plot of one of his many fantasies which normally ended with him under Robert. He didn’t know to laugh or to cry. His lack of response must have alerted Robert.

“Look you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. It was just an idea. If she thinks that she has a chance with me, she will make my life hell until I give in and play her game which is basically torturing her sister and I don’t want to be dragged into another sibling drama.” Robert said.

Aaron composed himself enough to ask “but you are okay with everyone assuming you are gay?”

“Well, bisexual actually. And this way I can finally come out to my family as well. Killing two birds with one stone and all.”

“I’m sorry; did you just come out to me?” Aaron asked. He was completely confused. Did that mean he had a chance with Robert? Did it mean that Robert was available to him? But wait a minute, if he was, then did it mean that Robert didn’t like Aaron that way as he hadn’t come on to him. Robert wasn’t shy. If he liked someone he would just tell them. So that meant that he didn’t fancy Aaron. Universe had a cruel sense of humor when it came to Aaron.

“To be honest I thought you knew. Well at least we know you have a rubbish gaydar!” Robert had the audacity to say!

“So what? You thought a little romance with the local gay will get the woman to back off? And why does it have to be me? I mean Finn would be a more believable option for you. I mean he is prettier and he hangs on every word you say. So why not ask him?”

“Well Finn isn’t really my type!”

“And what, I am?” Aaron was hysteric now.

“Well yeah! I mean have you seen you?? You are fit and hot and very very sexy without even realizing it! I mean every time we walk into a bar, I am surprised that men don’t just pounce on you!” Robert said with an animated voice. Aaron was speechless. Did Robert just say he was sexy?

“Look forget it. It was a stupid idea. You clearly aren’t comfortable with it. Just forget about it.” Robert said while avoiding looking at Aaron.

“So are we on tonight to watch the game? Is Adam coming as well? I can make some snacks if you wanted to come earlier” Robert changed the subject.

Aaron cleared his throat. He couldn’t believe what just had happened. Robert seemed to be embarrassed by his accidental confession and clearly didn’t want to talk about it. Aaron suddenly felt shy as well. He never was good at taking compliments. And he didn’t know if Robert was complimenting him or coming on to him. He decided to play along with Robert’s deflection.

“Yeah, yeah. Adam said he would bring the beer. I can bring some crisps if you want. Say 5 ish?”

“No need. I will be making fish and chips. Just come by 5 and we’ll be all set.”

After a few awkward moments of silence, Robert chugged down the rest of his coffee, nodded his head and left the scrapyard.

Aaron could not move. He was sure that drool was falling down his face as he was unable to close his mouth. He was having an out of body experience. There was no way that Robert bleeding Sugden was attracted to him.

But it seemed that he was. He actually came out to Aaron and admitted that he found him attractive at the same time. It was as if someone had figured out all of Aaron’s deepest desires and had made them come true. So did that mean that he wanted to be Aaron? Surely he would have said something if he did. Instead, he had changed the subject and left. Perhaps Robert wasn’t ready and Aaron could respect that. He would follow Robert’s lead and act as if nothing had happened.

He would definitely do that as soon has his heart stopped hammering in his chest! He needed some time to calm down first!

Tonight was a game night. It had become a semi-usual event that Aaron and Adam would go to Robert’s place a couple of times a week for watching football and playing games or watching films on Robert’s giant TV. If Andy and Robert were on speaking terms that week, he would sometimes join them.

For some reason, Aaron put extra effort into getting ready. He then felt foolish for taking extra time because it was just their usual football night. Nothing more.

He finally decided on his usual black jeans and black hoody. But in the off chance that the universe wasn’t fucking with him, he put on his green sweater under the hoody. He felt ridiculous. There was no way that Robert wanted him.

A few hours later, he was completely convinced Robert wanted him.

It all started as soon as he got there with Adam. From the first moment, there was a charged feeling between them. It got so bad that even clueless Adam knew was something out of ordinary. Aaron was extra aware of Robert and he was trying so hard to not to be obvious that it was painful. During the game, Adam kept looking between them suspiciously. When Robert went to the kitchen to grab more beers, Adam finally snapped.

“Hey, what’s the matter with you two? Have you had fight or something?”

“What? No! Of course not!”

“Then what’s with the weird looks?”

“There are no weird looks! Shut up Adam!”

But when Robert came back Aaron turned red and turned away to look at the telly.

After the game, Adam was tired of both of them acting so strange, when Robert had gone to the loo, he ditched Aaron.

Robert came down the stairs a few minutes later. He froze on the doorway when he realized it was just him and Aaron.

“Where’s Adam?” he asked.

“Oh he just left.” Aaron was trying to sound casual.

Robert nodded his head and came to sit on the other side of the couch that Aaron was sitting.

“Another beer?” he offered.

“Nah you’re alright. I have to work early tomorrow and I don’t wanna be hungover.”

“So… fancy a movie? Or we could play some Fifa if you wanted?”

“What I want is you.” Aaron heard himself say. Fuuuuuuuuuck. Did he just say that out loud?! Judging by the way that Robert’s eyes widened and his face went red, it was safe to assume that yes, Aaron had said that out loud.

“I mean …. Not that… I mean I want to …. Look, just uhm…. Could you forget I said that?” Aaron spluttered. He was an idiot.

“uhm… how… why… really?” Robert said in reply. He didn’t seem repulsed by the idea. Aaron decided to take a chance. He had already ruined everything. What was a little love confession between friends?

“Yeah. I mean I do fancy ya. I mean more than fancy… like sort of kinda inloveish … yeah?” Aaron was hoping for a lighting strike or a giant hole in ground to swallow him so he could escape this utter humiliation.

Robert was silent for several excruciating moments. Enough to trigger Aaron’s fight and flight response. And since this was Robert, Aaron chose flight.

“So I guess I will be going. No need to you know say anything. And I guess I will see you around. Or not if you know, you don’t. So uhm. Yeah. Sorry. And thanks for you know. Yeah. Sorry.” Aaron said as he was pulling on his hoody and retreating to the front door. As he was about to open the door a pair of strong arms caught his arm and shoulder and turned him around.

Before he could say anything, Robert pressed him against the wall by the end of the stairs. His face was inches away from Aaron’s and he was directly looking at his eyes. Aaron held his breath. This was the look that had made him fall in love with him in the first place. The green eyes with such intensity, directing all of his attention towards Aaron. The heavy breathing and his parted lips was setting Aaron’s body on fire.

Robert finally broke the spell and looked at Aaron’s mouth.

“How do you know that you love me?”

It took all of Aaron’s strength to form a response.

“Because you are all I think about and every time I see you, it feels as if my heart wants to jump out of my chest.” Aaron said, without skipping a beat, looking directly at Robert’s eyes. The time for shyness and hiding was over. He had laid his heart to Robert. It was up to him to either take it or break it.

Robert was blushing which made his freckles more noticeable Aaron wanted to kiss all of them.

Robert took a step back. His face was unreadable. He had finally made a decision. He reached out with his hands and took Aaron’s hands in his. He brought one to his lips and kissed the back of his hand. He then looked at Aaron and smiled.

“You know?”

“I know.”

There was no more words needed. Robert didn’t let go of his hands as he took him upstairs. Aaron didn’t think he would ever stop smiling.

Later as Robert’s head was cradled between Aaron’s neck and shoulder and they were catching their breath, Aaron remembered something from earlier.

“So does that mean when you tell the Whites that you have a boyfriend, then it won’t be a scam anymore?” Aaron said as he was playing with Robert’s fingers.

“Is that your way of asking if I want to call us boyfriends?” Robert said while smiling into Aaron’s shoulder.

“Maybe”

“Hmmm, well I have a small confession to make. When Rebecca called before, I already told her I wasn’t interested and I was seeing someone else.” Robert said.

“Hang on a minute, so this morning, what was that? You trying to get in my pants by using a scam as an excuse?”

Robert lifted his head and looked at Aaron apologetically.

“Well, I wanted to ask you out but I didn’t know how to do it. I’m sorry.” He seemed genuinely upset.

Aaron looked at him with a frown for a second before deciding to put him out of his misery. He then cracked a mischievous smile which prompted Robert to bite his chin.

“Ow! Stop it you muppet!” Aaron pretended he was hurt. Robert bent his head and kissed him where he had bitten him. He then turned to Aaron’s lips and they were both busy to think about anything else for a while.

“So what’s the latest scheme then, if not blackmailing the Whites?” Aaron said the next morning as he was drinking the coffee that Robert had just made. Robert turned around from the stove as he was making their breakfast. He was only in a t-shirt and underwear. He looked good enough to eat!

“Well, to be honest I am sort of bored with the Whites. But the other day I heard something particularly interesting that I think it would be an amazing thing to do with my brand new boyfriend.” He responded with a glint in his eyes. Aaron knew instantly that this was going to be one of those schemes that would either get them arrested or in feud with the locals. God he loved this man!

“Alright, let’s hear what am I going to go to prison for this time.” He already knew he would do it no matter what.

“Hey I resent the implication that I would risk my boyfriend getting caught.” Robert protested.

“Soft lad. Go on, let’s hear it.”

“How do you feel about puppies? Specifically how do you feel about messing with a couple of puppy breeders and potentially having to take over a breeding operation?”

Yup, he was in trouble alright.

[hazelmariewrites]

Ellie

I thought it would be nice to share a piece of work, so here is a short psychological horror story that I wrote my freshman year of college! I’ve come SUCH a long way with my writing since then, but this has always been a favorite of my own work. Maybe I’ll even revisit it someday.

Synopsis: Ellie’s imaginary friends helped her cope with a traumatic childhood. As she gets older, however, their intentions start to seem malicious--and Ellie is easily influenced.

Trigger warnings: Mental illness, murder

"It's unfortunate that we can't talk somewhere more comfortable," said the graying man as he opened his notebook and perched it on his crossed legs, "but everyone's very concerned for your safety."

He was referring to the handcuffs which held my hands together and my legs to the metal chair I was sitting in. The room was cold and the dim light above us flickered as if it could go out at any second. A police officer was by the door, smacking his gum at an irritating volume. Definitely not a comfortable place for me to be recounting my life story.

"My name is Dr. Wright," the man continued. "I'm here to get your side of the story, Ellie. It's important for you to be able to tell it to someone who can understand your state of mind, don't you think?"

My initial response was to feel insulted by the fact that he was, in his shrink sort of way, calling me crazy, but then I realized that I probably was so I nodded my head. With a smile, he clicked his pen and scribbled something down, then pulled some papers out of a manila folder.

"Okay, Ellie, let's go all the way back to when you were a child. I have some files which show that your father was arrested a few times for domestic abuse..." he stopped for a moment to look up and gauge my reaction. I guess I was supposed to be troubled by him bringing this up, but it didn't have an effect on me, so he continued. "What was your childhood like?"

For a while I sat there staring at the wall behind him. He waited patiently for me to begin, but I wasn't sure how. My younger years were all a giant blur, but there was one day in particular that stood out in my memory. So I told him about the only childhood I ever knew.

*

"Damn it, Pam, you're blockin' the TV!" my father yelled as my mother crossed his view of the football game to bring him a beer. He ripped it from her hands, cracked it open, and took a swig without a thank you. My mother hovered next to him for a moment as if she wanted to say something, but ultimately returned to the kitchen without a word.

I was in the corner playing with the knock-off Barbie doll I had gotten a few days earlier for my fourth birthday. She was missing a shoe and it looked like someone had cut a chunk out of her hair. I was too young to realize that my mother had probably fished it out of a dumpster.

My father stood up and wobbled over to the bathroom, and on his way back he stopped in front of me. "Why you playin' with this stupid doll?" he growled, bending over to grab it out of my hands. "Get in the kitchen and help your mother!"

He mocked me when I started to cry, and upon hearing this, my mother emerged from the kitchen. "Keith, what are you doing?" she asked. My father turned to her and pointed a finger in her face.

"You stay out of this Pam, you're the reason our daughter don't know nothin'. She's gonna turn out to be a good for nothin' whore just like her momma!"

My mother started to protest but her words were cut short when my father struck her across the face. I ran to my room but I could still her them yelling, so I climbed under my covers, closed my eyes, and put my hands over my ears.

A few moments later I felt my covers move back. I opened my eyes and saw a girl my age with red hair and freckles. "Sara!" I cried, throwing my arms around her. She hugged me tight with a chuckle.

"What are you hiding from?" she asked. Her eyebrows knitted together as I explained that my parents were fighting again. 

"I ought to teach that dad of yours a thing or two!" came a voice from behind me. I turned around to see my friend Billy had joined us. I laughed at his enthusiasm and gave him a hug. Sara and Billy kept me company until there was a knock at my door.

"Ellie, who were you talking to?" my mother asked as she entered my room. Her face was red and swollen and there was a cut on her lip. Sara and Billy had disappeared.

"I was just singing a song, Momma," I lied. My mother sat down next to me on my bed and put her arm around me. We sat like that for a little while, and then my father called for her and she left.

*

"Sara and Billy were your imaginary friends?" Dr. Wright asked. I nodded.

"Some of them," I said. "There are others."

"Are?"

"Were. I meant to say were."

Dr. Wright raised a brow and scribbled something in his notebook. I swallowed hard and started picking at my cuticles to distract myself from my mistake. Three of my fingers had started to bleed by the time he stopped writing.

"How many?" he finally asked.

"Five," I replied.

"How often did they visit you?"

"They were my only friends." I explained. "They showed up whenever I needed them, from my parents fighting to eating lunch alone at school."

"You saw them at school?"

"Yes."

"Tell me about that."

*

"He's just mad because you're smarter than him," Sara assured me as I stared down at the large number 63 written in red across the top of my latest Biology test. "I'm telling you, all you have to do is threaten to out his little affair with that blonde bimbo in the third row and he'll get off your back."

I rolled my eyes. My eight grade biology teacher, Mr. Goodwin, definitely favored the girl Sara had in mind, but accusing him of an affair was overdramatic. I started walking toward my locker and Sara followed me, insisting on weaving through the students even though she could have passed through them with no trouble. 

"What's that?" Sara asked as we reached my locker. A triangle of pink construction paper was hanging out the bottom, and when I opened the door a heart shaped card fell to the floor. I reached down and picked it up.

"Dear Ellie," it read across the front. I opened it. "You are so beautiful, but I've always been afraid to tell you how I feel. In the spirit of Valentine's Day, would you meet me on the stage of the auditorium after school? Love, Your Secret Admirer."

I looked up at Sara, a smile creeping across my face. She didn't share my enthusiasm.

"Ellie, don't do it," she begged, knocking the card to the floor. "I have a bad feeling about this."

I picked the note back up and placed it carefully in my locker. I promised Sara I wouldn't go, but I did.

The auditorium was pitch black aside from the lone spotlight shining down on the stage. My palms were sweaty and my stomach was flip-flopping all over the place, but I forced myself to make my way over. I couldn't see past the edge of the stage as I stood waiting for my admirer, but I heard a door open and close. My heart thundered in my chest.

"Hello?" I called out. My stomach turned over as I heard laughter. I began to realize that I should have listened to Sara.

"What's the matter, Ellie?" asked a girl's voice. "Have you been stood up?"

I tried my hardest to keep my composure, but as the lights turned on and I saw three girls video taping me, I couldn't stop the tears. Their cameras followed me as I fled the room, and I locked myself in a stall of the nearest bathroom.

A few moments later there was a knock on the stall door. I choked at them to go away through my tears, but a quiet voice revealed that it was Sara so I let her in. She held me until my sobs turned to sniffles, and then she pulled back with a fierce look in her eyes.

"You can't let them get away with this, Ellie," she said.

"What am I supposed to do?" I asked, my cracked voice barely above a whisper. A mischievous smile spread across her face. She opened the stall door to reveal Billy and the rest of my friends waiting with small cardboard boxes. She motioned for me to look inside.

I walked slowly over to one of the boxes and gasped in disgust as I saw what was inside. Cockroaches. I jumped back and looked at Sara in horror.

"What am I supposed to do with those?!" I cried. She walked over to me and put her hands on my shoulders, staring into my eyes with determination.

"You're going to put them in their lockers," she explained. "Just imagine their faces when they go to get their books before first period. And everyone will be there to see! It's going to be great, Ellie, trust me. They'll never mess with you again.”

I shook my head, but she held my gaze. The longer I looked into her eyes, the better the idea seemed. Before I knew it I was breaking into their lockers and laughing along with my friends as we emptied the boxes.

I got to school early the next morning. One by one I heard screaming throughout the halls as they all found their surprises. I was later called into the principal's office, but none of them could explain why they suspected me without admitting what they had done, so my revenge went unpunished. I stayed up late that night laughing with my friends, recounting how well our plan had played out. It was the happiest I had felt in a long time.

*

He asked me about my mother's death next. I explained that the doctors found the cancer too late, and her battle was relatively short. He asked me if I missed her.

"Well, yeah," I answered. "My childhood was rotten, but it wasn't her fault. She tried. And she really did love me." 

He raised his eyebrows. "That's very mature of you."

I shrugged. "I missed her a lot at first especially. Until he got sick, I became my father's new punching bag."

"How did you deal with your father's illness?" he asked. "It must have been hard leaving school to take care of the man who caused you so much pain."

"It was," I admitted. "And I didn't always handle it well."

He asked me to elaborate.

*

"Ellie," my father croaked from his bedroom. I sighed and closed the book I was reading, but waited a moment before I got up to see what he wanted. When I entered his room I was greeted by the loud beeping of his oxygen machine.

"Something's come loose," he said. "The damn thing won't shut up."

Sara appeared at the doorway. She stared blankly at my father as I worked to fix his machine. 

"How can you spend every day of your life taking care of this bastard after everything he's done to you?" she asked, crossing the room until she was watching him from the foot of his bed. I turned to her and tried to think of an answer, but there really wasn't a good one.

"What else am I supposed to do?" I asked her. 

"About what?" my father asked. I ignored him and waited for Sara to respond. She finally tore her eyes away from my father and looked into mine.

"Leave," she said. "Come with us, we'll take care of you!"

My eyebrows knitted together sympathetically. "But you're not real," I reasoned. Her face twisted into an expression of outrage.

"Don't you dare say that!" she screamed. I winced and turned away. My father was watching me carefully.

"You're a damn freak," he declared. "Y'know that?"

"Don't talk to me that way," I warned. He chuckled.

"I'm your father, I can talk to you however I want."

I had so many emotions taking over my mind. I was frustrated that Sara didn't understand why I couldn't leave. She refused to look at me, and it annoyed me and broke my heart at the same time. But above all I was pissed. I was incredulous at my father for having the nerve to talk down to me when I had put up with so much from him, and was now his sole caretaker. Didn't he realize how quickly I could end things for him?

Before I had time to decide whether or not it was a good idea, I was unplugging my father's oxygen machine. Its usual hum disappeared and my father began to choke.

"E-Ell-W-Wha," he sputtered, unable to form even a word. I looked over at Sara, who wore a satisfied smirk on her face, then looked back at my father. I watched him squirm for a few more moments before plugging his machine back in. He gasped a few times, his wide eyes searching my face for some sort of explanation.

"Never disrespect me again," I demanded. "Understand?"

He nodded, and I followed Sara out of the room.

*

"How did you feel about your reaction once you had time to reflect on it?" Dr. Wright asked in typical shrink fashion. "Were you frightened by it at all? Guilted?"

"I felt good about it," I replied. "I was glad to finally see him put in his place."

Dr. Wright nodded thoughtfully. I noticed that the officer by the door had fallen asleep, so before he had a chance to ask his next question I decided to tell him something I had been keeping from the police.

"My father had been dead for a couple of days before I called anyone." I said. Dr. Wright nodded quizzically at me.

"Yes, it says that here in my notes," he said. "You were out of town with a friend, right?"

"No," I replied, chewing the inside of my cheek anxiously. "I wasn't out of town."

He pulled out his notebook, of course, and started taking notes. I continued as he wrote.

"He woke me up one night calling my name. I don't know why, but I just couldn't find it in me to get up and check on him. I went back to sleep and when I woke up the next morning he was dead. It was shocking, but honestly it was a relief. I'm not sure what kept me from reporting it, but for the next two days I just pretended he wasn't there. It was very relaxing."

Dr. Wright scribbled away at his quickest pace yet. Then, as an afterthought, he turned back to see why the officer hadn't reacted to my news. I expected him to wake the officer and make me repeat it, but he didn't. He took a deep breath and turned back to me.

"Where was Sara during all this?" he asked. 

"Around," I answered. I thought he'd push for details, but once again he defied my expectations. Instead he dug out some papers.

"You started working at Holbrook National Bank not long after your father's death, am I correct?"

A chill ran down my spine and my palms began to sweat. I nodded, knowing where his question was leading. We were coming to the end.

"Is that how you came to know the deceased?"

*

"Excuse me, miss, I'm new in town and I'm looking to open a checking account here."

I looked away from my computer and saw a tall, lean man whose short black hair was speckled with gray here and there. There were wrinkles at the outer corners of his eyes, as if he had smiled a lot in his lifetime. The wrinkles deepened as he smiled at me with perfect teeth, and I felt my heart jump into my throat.

"Oh, Jeanie can help you with that," I told him, my finger shaking slightly as I pointed to an office at the end of the lobby. He kept his eyes on me rather than following my finger.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said. I felt my face turn pink as he laughed and winked, then made his way to Jeanie's office.

For the next two months the man came to my window every Thursday. I learned that his name was Scott and that he had moved into town because of a business opportunity that arose just after his divorce was finalized. He had a young daughter, Rose, who he saw every other weekend. 

Scott's charm never ceased to disarm me, so when he showed up one Thursday with a small bouquet of roses and asked if I was free for dinner the next night, I almost forgot how to say “yes.” But I figured it out.

My friends weren't happy when they heard the news. They mostly pouted, but Sara was adamant on getting me to change my mind.

"You barely know him!" she argued. "He's fifteen years older than you! Plus, just went through a divorce, so he's not going to be settling down with anyone anytime soon. He's probably handing out flowers to girls all over town!"

"Sara, stop," I said firmly, "I'm an adult now and I'm through letting you make my decisions for me. You're not going to talk me out of this just because you're jealous that I'm finally getting along with a real person."

Sara didn't respond to this. She disappeared for the rest of the evening, and for the next few weeks I only caught glimpses of my old friends. When I saw them they were huddled together, as if planning something. I should have suspected something, but things were going well with Scott and I was glad to finally have a sense of normalcy. I was too old for imaginary friends anyway.

By the time Scott and I had been dating long enough for him to want me to meet his daughter I hadn't seen my friends for over a month. I felt normal for the first time in my adult life. I was excited to be taking such a big step in my relationship, and to finally have people in my life that my mind hadn't fabricated.

The night before I was to meet Rose I was feeling very upbeat, so I decided to surprise Scott at  his house with takeout from his favorite Chinese restaurant. I used the spare key he kept under his doormat to get in. I called out to him, but there was no response. I began to worry that he may have gone to bed early.

I put the food down on his kitchen table, and as I walked up the stairs I saw a dim light pouring through the cracked opening of his bedroom door. I opened it just wide enough to see Scott sitting against his bed frame, reading by the light of his bedside lamp.

"Hey handsome, didn't you hear me?" I whispered, not wanting to startle him too badly. His expression was one of shock despite my hushed tone.

"Ellie, what are you doing here?" he asked. I just smiled and walked into the room, but my smile faded quickly as the rest of his bed came into my view. Lying next to him was a sleeping mess of red curls and black lingerie.

My mouth dropped. Sara was right: I wasn't the only pretty young thing in Scott's life. I stared at him in disbelief as he put his book down and asked me once again what I was doing at his house. No apology, not even a recognition of the fact that I had just caught him in bed with another woman. I felt adrenaline searing through my body, and my hands started to shake.

"How could you?!" I cried.

"How could I what?" he responded. I clinched my fists and charged at him. He blocked my blows and tried to restrain me, so I grabbed his lamp and crashed it over his head. He stopped fighting immediately, but I kept attacking.

Each time I brought the lamp down on his head his face changed. He became my father, the kids at school, and everyone else  who had ever done me wrong. Eventually the lamp broke to the point that I had nothing left to bring down onto him.

The red head started to laugh. With the lamp broken I had no way of seeing, so I lunged over Scott's body in the general direction of her laughter. I was surprised to land on the mattress. There was nothing there. The sound of her laughter seemed to have moved to the other side of the room. I started toward it, but stopped dead in my tracks when I heard a second source of laughter, then a third, and then more until I couldn't tell how many there were.

I felt the walls until I found the light switch, and when I flipped it on I found my friends all standing next to Scott. Sara was a few steps in front of the rest, sporting black lingerie.

"Hey, old friend," she said. "We missed you."

*

Dr. Wright was satisfied with the information he gathered. He told me he would relay it all to my court appointed lawyer, who should then have no trouble putting together an insanity plea. He said all of this as though it should be happy news.

"What's wrong with me?" I asked, fighting back tears. I hated myself for what I had done. I hated that I let my childish coping mechanisms get out of control. I hated that I would never be normal. Dr. Wright sighed.

"There are a number of disorders that involve your symptoms," he said, "but I'll need more time to give you an official diagnosis. What's important is that they're gone. You said you don't see them anymore, correct?"

I opened my mouth to protest, but then Sara stepped out from the darkened corner where she had been listening in secret all along. She stared me down until I was too afraid to speak, so I nodded my head. The now-conscious police officer escorted me back to my cell where the rest of my friends were waiting.

[ardenssolis]

As Ozymandias had been doing, he had also been preparing. The Caster wasn't a baker by any means, only being able to make simple things as cookies or biscuits, but he had tried his best. Having hidden in a drawer by his bedside was a honey cake, homemade and wrapped in a red box tied with golden bow. The decor might've been influenced by his tastes, but its intricacy and detail were clearly done by another Servant, aiding the Caster in his time of need. "I hadn't expected you to make - [1]

something either,” he began, greeting Ozymandias at the doorway of his bedroom, not even waiting another second as he entered. “If I had another gift to offer, I would have scrapped this to give you something better.” And to allow the other to have his moment without sharing it. “I’m yours. Today and the next… But as custom would have it — ” Pausing, he held out the box to the Rider, “If you will accept me and my poor baking skills, I would like to ask if you would be mine as well, Ramses.” [2]

     AS REQUESTED OF HIM, he had gone to El-Melloi’s room in order to receive his gift (though was it safe to say that it was their room at this point considering he slept nowhere else nowadays?). Since he had little reason to hide his trek to the other’s room by finding a means to avoid most he passed by now that the Caster had given his permission for him to be more open with his adoration, it took a bit less time to reach it. Stepping inside, he looked around for a moment, though it was only for a moment as his gaze lingered upon El-Melloi and the box he pulled from his drawer. ❝Ahaha, you were hiding it in here? How cunning. You knew quite well I would not look in there.❞ Not that he would have gone digging around anyway. He respected the other’s privacy too much to invade it.

     Oh, but a certain statement gave him pause. Did El-Melloi just say that he made him a treat too? That was…highly unexpected. The first time they had experienced Valentine’s together, a card had been given and a meal shared. However, it was not a meal that either of them had made as it was something that El-Melloi had set up instead; premade from somewhere else for them both to enjoy. Imagining the other in the kitchen mixing together various ingredients was an endearing one that left him feeling quite soft. ❝W-What? I would not have allowed you to do that.❞ Moving closer, he soon came to a stop before the other man, reaching out to take the box from him. ❝There is nothing wrong with us sharing ideas. I find the whole ordeal rather endearing, really. It only succeeded in making me love you more…and I assumed that was quite impossible.❞ El-Melloi in an apron attempting to bake was a mental image that he would never forget.

     Gently did he wrap his free arm around the other’s waist, pulling him closer so that he could lean forward and rub the tip of his nose against his affectionately. A kiss was sure to follow soon after; such just as soft and loving as El-Melloi’s had been earlier. ❝I am glad that I get the opportunity to spend this day with you, and I also look forward to what incredible treat you prepared for me to the extent that you were sure to hide it. I will gladly be your Valentine…although, I was already yours long before this holiday.❞ 

[tandem85]

Survey...thing

Okay so this is gonna be a bit weird. I came across this copypasta survey thing and thought it looked interesting judging by the first question. Had no clue of it's true length and I've been just kinda rambling on for close to 2 hours now. This tumblr has possibly the lowest traffic in recorded history, so I shouldn't have to worry about too many eyes stumbling across this. At least I hope. Eh, oh well, whatever, here it is.

1. Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 18, and find line 3. - Good machines don't guarantee success, though, as RCA and Xerox and others had discovered. (The Soul of A New Machine, Tracy Kidder)

2. Stretch your left arm out as far as you can, What can you touch? - The wall and pillows.

3. Before you started this survey, what were you doing? - Browsing the internet after pulling an all-nighter due to insomnia and painful recollections of past mistakes.

4. What is the last thing you watched on TV? - 'The West Wing' on Netflix

5. Without looking, guess what time it is: - Eight fucking A.M.

6. Now look at the clock. What is the actual time? - 8:03 AM. End me.

7. With the exception of the computer, what can you hear? - A desk fan and the faint sound of traffic

8. When did you last step outside? What were you doing? - A few days ago, to pick up an old iMac off Craigslist

9. Did you dream last night? - No.

10. Do you remember your dreams? - On average, no. Sometimes a decent one lingers, though.

11. When did you last laugh? - I honestly have no idea.

12. Do you remember why / at what? - Not at all. Probably just a passing chuckle at something I read somewhere.

13. What is on the walls of the room you are in? - Various posters, most either from Club Nintendo or Nintendo Power, along with a few more obscure ones.

14. Seen anything weird lately? - Plenty.

15. What is the last film you saw? - All the way through? I, uh, honestly couldn't say...I have a habit of just watching bits and bobs of films I like over and over again, usually to just take in detail or just to confirm a stray thought or something. If that's the case, then Star Wars w/the theatrical mono track. If an *entire* film, then probably Aliens a month or so back.

16. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live? - Small suburban town a few miles out from some city in some state, preferably more northern than where I am now. Countryside of Oregon seems nice.

17. If you became a multi-millionaire overnight, what would you buy? - Probably just save it all and try to coast on it for the rest of my life.

18. Tell me something about you that most people don’t know. - the fuck is this copypasta quiz? Er, well, nobody really *knows* me so just any facet of trivia about my life would do, I guess. I'm really, *really* obsessed with EPCOT even though I've never been and I haven't even visited Disney World since 2002. I genuinely have a copy of every pavilion and attraction's soundtrack from Future World burned to CDs sitting in my car right now, and if I had to pick favorites, Horizons and Communicore get the most play time.

19. If you could change one thing about the world, regardless of guilt or politics, what would you do? - Give everyone some common sense and a better sense of care towards others. That would ((hopefully)) end a majority of conflict out there.

20. Do you like to dance? - Not really. Haven't danced since my sister's wedding back in '09. Yep, even missed prom, not that I really care.

21. Would you ever consider living abroad? - Maybe if it's like Japan or somewhere with similar power standards...I couldn't make it a month in Europe and it's 240v mains standard. My life hinges too much on tech.

22. Does your name make any interesting anagrams? - Never really thought of it. Probably not.

23. Who made the last incoming call on your phone? - ...my mother, a few days ago. I only have my immediate family's numbers saved. Not like anyone would ever really want to call me.

24. What is the last thing you downloaded onto your computer? - Some shitty (what I presume) in-ride recording of Horizons I wanted to play around with in an audio editor to get a decent loop or two out of...before I realized YouTube had better resources for that.

25. Last time you swam in a pool? - Years. I used to love swimming all the time when I was younger (weather permitting; my skin goes from moonlight pale to lobster red faster than it takes to boil an egg on the sun). Heck, I don't think I still have any trunks that fit anymore...

26. Type of music you like most? - Normally I'd say 70s/80s rock/pop, but I haven't listened to much outside of, er, soundtracks the past few months.

27. Type of music you dislike most? - Either country or EDM/dubstep/whatever. I can't stand singers in country, it's so painfully obvious they're forcing their voices to have this bogus accent, and dubstep/electro whatever is just screeching garbage that sounds worse than playing a data cassette through a walkman. 

28. Are you listening to music right now? - No, I was trying to go to sleep earlier, now I'm just laying with a laptop sitting 2 feet from my face listening to the fan whir.

29. What color is your bedroom carpet? - Beige

30. If you could change something about your home, without worry about expense or mess, what would you do? - Expand the floorspace somehow. If where was an extra bedroom, a lot of storage problems would be solved. (lot of books and furniture. Takes up a lot of space.)

31. What was the last thing you bought? - iMac G3 off craigslist.

32. Have you ever ridden on a motorbike? - nope

33. Would you go bungee jumping or sky diving? - I tried zip-lining once. Nearly broke my hands and fell 30+ feet into a ~40 degree lake. High-flying stunts ain't my thing.

34. Do you have a garden? - No, but I (as in my family) used to years ago. It was nice.

35. Do you really know all the words to your national anthem? - Yes, thanks 4kids /s

36. What is the first thing you think of when you wake up in the morning? - why am I still here

37. If you could eat lunch with one famous person, who would it be? - Steve Wozniak, but my brain's so fried from exhaustion so often I'd probably royally fuck that lunch up.

38. Who sent the last text message you received? - My sister a few days ago. By mistake. Wrong "Andrew".

39. Which store would you choose to max out your credit card? - If I had one and if I was stupid enough to max one out, definitely 100% my local game store, The Video Game Cavern.

40. What time is bed time? - My life is in such shambles that a bed time isn't even a functioning concept in my life. It's whenever I pass out.

41. Have you ever been in a beauty pageant? - I'm a guy, so, no.

42. How many tattoos do you have? - None. I'm a total square.

43. If you don’t have any, have you ever thought of getting one? - Nah. Being broke + being a bear = never even a passing thought.

44. What did you do for your last birthday? - Nothing iirc. Had classes (then), didn't have that fancy a dinner, and just crashed that night.

45. Do you carry a donor card? - Can't be due to [insert some crap about bad bloodline]

46. Who was the last person you ate dinner with? - Ha. Ha. ha...

47. Is the glass half empty or half full? - depends on how the water got into the cup.

48. What’s the farthest-away place you’ve been? - Ohio. eh

49. When’s the last time you ate a homegrown tomato? - Not a fan of tomatoes. I think my dad still grows some during the summer (not a full garden, just like 3 veggie plants he tends in the flower beds)

50. Have you ever won a trophy? - Not really

51. Are you a good cook? - Well I haven't burned anything or cut myself yet so maybe.

52. Do you know how to pump your own gas? - Yes

53. If you could meet any one person whose deceased, who would it be? - You know, I never really thought about something like this. Honestly, not as much 'meet' but more of just have a good long talk with, my grandfather. He passed when I was 8, so I never got to really *know* him that well. I've learned more about him from his service papers than being around him a lot when I was young. So yeah, that.

54. Have you ever had to wear a uniform to school? - Lol yep in middle school, uniform and enforced dress code. Everyone hated it back then, however since it was a small school in a massive district I never kept up with anyone afterwards so I can't speak for them, but I actually adopted practices from that dress code. Belt and polo not so much, but always wearing a nice shirt and keeping it tucked in, yeah. I've dressed that way every single day since then.

55. Do you touch-type? - Yep, but I'm weird and don't use the normal home-row hand layout thing. I can type proficiently, it just looks sloppy af

56. What’s under your bed? - A lot of junk. Binder of Gen 1 Pokemon cards, a case of cassettes, stack of old model railroading magazines, old busted up laptop, some blank paper.

57. Do you believe in love at first sight? - HA. Ha. ha......

58. Think fast, what do you like right now? - warmth. seriously, it's cold and my blanket is doing nothing.

59. Where were you on Valentine’s day? - Home, all day, doing pretty much nothing. just a typical day.

60. Life motto: - I don't really have a motto but if I want to be sappy I'd just lift the one from Horizons: "If we can dream it, we can do it" but I have no dreams and I literally do nothing

61. What was the name of your first pet? - I named all my fish once, but I was 5, so I'll just skip to my first cat. 'Whiskers'. Very imaginative.

62. Do you like to go camping? - Yes. I miss it. My sister and brother-in-law used to take me camping all the time years ago...but they've since settled down, had kids, and haven't done anything like that in a while. Meanwhile I'm broke, have no gear, no friends or anything like that so I can't do jack shit about camping.

63. Is there anything going on this weekend? - Not really. Just working on that iMac I keep mentioning

64. Do you have any nicknames? - Not really. Only thing that could vaguely qualify is 'swiss', the first word of my normal username everywhere else. Which is ironic since I'm 100% not Swiss.

65. Who is your favorite musician/band? - Genesis, Collins era. aaaaaaaaaaaaaand I've just earned myself a beating.

66. What time do you get up in the morning? - I STILL HAVEN'T EVEN SLEPT YET

67. Do you wear pajamas when you sleep? - usually. just a t-shirt and pj bottoms.

68. What is the first thing people notice about you? - dunno. don't really interact with enough people to notice anything

69. What is the last movie that you saw at the cinema? - err, probably Ghostbusters. The original, not the new one. They re-released it briefly in promotion of the new one. Fucking loved the new transfer and audio mix, blew the earlier (2014 30th anniversary edition screening) out of the water.

70. Do you sing in the shower? - Nah, I prefer the sound of running water

71. What do you do most when you are bored? - browse the internet, die a little on the inside. whatever's left, at least

72. What do you do for a living? - eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

73. Do you love your job? - EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

74. Which came first the chicken or the egg? - the egg because evolutilkjoirwjga;slkdfja;lkgja;eruhmynf;djva;n

75. How many keys on your key ring? - 3

76. Are you close with your parents? - physically too close, emotionally, further than the moons around jupiter. though that can be said about many things.

77. What kind of car do you drive? - Pontiac Grand Prix. Jumped through freaking hoops the past half a year just to be able to drive it since the damn title was stuck in limbo since March 2016. Just got the tag for it a week ago.

78. What are your best physical features? - people comment on my hair and eyes a lot so those, I guess

79. What are your best characteristics? - oh god. Well, guess you can say I'm determined. Like how I keep on with this survey even though I only thought it was like 20 questions long, not 100 or so. Also you could probably punch me in the face and I'd be the one apologizing.

80. What was the name of your favorite teacher? - Ms. Hamm

81. Where did you grow up? - At this point I've spent most of my life in this hell hole, so Greenville, SC. wait, fuck

82. How far away from your birthplace do you live now? - err somewhere around 300 to 400 miles. Essentially really just one state away.

83. Can you do any impressions? - I've perfected an impression of a sad sack of shit living in emotional isolation stuck in a permanent state of panic

84. Are you a morning person or a night owl? - Night owl by far

85. Can you touch your nose with your tongue? - No, ew

86. Can you close your eyes and raise your eyebrows? - kinda, yeah

87. Are you an introvert or an extrovert? - I couldn't be more of introvert if I lived in a literal hole in the ground

88. What is your best childhood memory? - driving a golf cart up a tree. Don't ask me how, but I somehow managed that when I was like 6. And by tree I mean massive pine. And by up it I literally mean the thing was hanging 5 feet off the ground on a branch.

89. What are some of the different jobs that you have had in your life? - (Re: 72, 73)

90. Do you light candles where you live? - yeah, I enjoy LIGHT scented ones. In open rooms. Strong candles are migraine invoking pieces of shit

91. What was your favorite toy growing up? - wooden Thomas the Tank Engine

92. Do you play any musical instruments? - I am a defect in my familial lineage

93. Have you ever been involved in a crime? - I'm a goodie-two-shoes meh-fest, only thing I've ever stolen is a pencil off a teacher's desk and even that was an accident

94. Do you have long or short hair? - too long for my taste, but it doesn't really look long at all. crazy curls.

95. Have you ever spread a secret to others someone asked you not to? - Never been given many secrets, but I've always kept them.

96. What is your favorite movie? - Oh jesus christ. I just have a slew of movies I enjoy above average, I'll be damned if I could ever properly rank them. In no particular order: Jurassic Park, Short Circuit, Blade Runner, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, and Star Trek: The Motion Picture

97. Are you getting tired answering all these questions? - I'm already tired. This was supposed to be more amusing than anything, but it's actually felt good to just let my mind flow into the keys and out into this notepad file.

98. Last question.  Without looking can you remember what the first question was? - Something about lines in a book. It's what hooked my into doing this whole thing.

Wait, seriously, only 98 questions? Thought this thing would've rounded off too 100, then again, I thought it wouldn't be longer than 20 when I started and have just kinda been dragged through this whole thing. Well, it did feel kinda nice I guess. I'm debating if I should post this or not....eh, screw it, I'll throw it on my tandem tumblr. (Which it's short for TAND-EM, I was a retard and got the Tandy emulator confused for DeskMate, the proprietary Tandy OS shell. Nothing to do with bikes, but I guess the latin [at length] humorously applies as well.) I should probably write a header for this...oh, regarding the time questions, that was genuinely the time as of answering those questions. It's currently 9:46 AM. That's how long I've been at this. This...can't be healthy...

[cals-laundry]

Happy Valentine’s Day, Uncle

“What? No nice boys?”

“Who says it’s the boys? Maybe it’s me!”

Hizashi pops the last bite of his pizza into his mouth and turns to you, knee against your thigh, arm still pillowing the back of your head. He looks over you and nods.

“Not you.”

Relationship: Uncle Hizashi Yamada(Present Mic) x GN! Reader Words: 2,232 Tags: incest, couch sex, Hizashi is a creepy uncle, but reader is sorta into it.

You’re alone on Valentine’s day.

Your parents are out for the night, you’d chosen not to listen when they explained where they’d be, instead you denied the mental image and you’ve chosen to enjoy a movie on the couch in a big t-shirt and little shorts for comfort. You fumble with the idea of dinner, but a knock on the door digs you out of the menu on your phone. And on the other side, your uncle seems to have read your mind.

“Well hello there, kiddo!” he holds up a box and you can’t help but crack a smile, “your parents told me they left you here, I’m amazed you answered the door, I thought you’d be havin’ a fun little Valentine’s date of your own.”

“And you still came over?” you step back to leave him in, “gross, uncle 'Zashi.”

You laugh with him as he closes the door.

“Good uncles keep an eye out for their favourites! Can’t have someone treating you anything less than perfect!”

You roll your eyes, but it’s endearing. Hizashi has always been your favourite. Sometimes, your cousins questioned it, even friends had made comments about how he is with you, but it’s been so long, you never questioned it. Sure, he’s a little hands on, but it’s not creepy, he’s just affectionate! You settle beside him and he hands you a can of soda, but he gives himself away when he’s not wearing his sunglasses. His gaze is on your legs; it slides over them honey slow and he darts his tongue over his lips as if it’ll give him the smallest taste of sweetness.

“I’m not actually interrupting, am I? Hanging out in just a t-shirt sounds like good draw for a boyfriend.”

“Nah, the TV is my boyfriend.”

He thinks for a second, but you cut him off.

“Don’t say it.”

“Say what?”

“I don’t know, but do not.”

He howls with laughter and swings his arm across the back of the couch. The movie plays, and for a while, you simply eat in silence. Then Hizashi breaks it.

“Why don’t you have a date?”

You shrug.

“Don’t wanna.”

“What? No nice boys?”

“Who says it’s the boys? Maybe it’s me!”

Hizashi pops the last bite of his pizza into his mouth and turns to you, knee against your thigh, arm still pillowing the back of your head. He looks over you and nods.

“Not you.”

“What?”

“Look at you!”

“What?!”

He leans in, closer than is even usual for him.

“Look at you; you’re the prettiest little thing. Anyone who doesn’t see that is a fool.”

His hand rests on your knee a moment. A friendly gesture. Then it sneaks higher, higher, until the bottom of your t-shirt brushes against his fingers. Less friendly. Your face must give away your hesitation;

“Don’t tell me no one has touched you even like this!”

“No! I mean, yeah, they have but it’s…” your words trail. What is stopping you?

“You worried I’m gonna ruin anyone else for ya?” his smirk twists to one that’s just a little too cocky.

“N-no, just...you’re my uncle.”

“And who knows you better than I do?”

He has a point. When his fingers poke under your t-shirt this time, you don’t flinch as much.

“I can take care of you,” his head dips and rests against your shoulder, his lips only a hair’s breadth from your neck, “y’want me to be your Valentine, hmm?”

“I-I’m not sure…”

“You always gave me Valentine’s cards when you were a kid, what’s so different now?”

He cups your sex and you whine.

“A lot! I don’t know, maybe we shouldn’t-” your sentence dissolves to another whine when he kisses your neck and presses his hand against you just a little more firmly.

“If you really want me to stop, I will,” he kisses a trail between his words, “but you didn’t even try to cover yourself after seeing your uncle at the door. You gonna tell me you don’t want me, huh?”

He pushes your underwear aside and presses a finger against your already wet hole.

“Oh, you were just waiting for this, huh? You’re as gross as I am, little bird; all ready for your uncle.”

Little bird. An old familiar nickname.

Before you can argue, his finger slips inside and his lips press to your neck again. You try to swallow your hushed moan, but it’s impossible; a second finger joins the first and he knows just how to move them. Your hands tangle in his hair, forcing it out of that looped half tie that’s always seemed so pretty, and he groans against your neck when you give it the smallest tug. But with it, he pulls away, and you wonder how that could be too far when he’s got two fingers inside you. They slip from your hole and he savours the taste for a moment before he turns, sitting normally, straight forward on the couch. Sickening drips of disappointment slide through you and you hate yourself for it. Until you realise he’s fumbling with the buttons of his jeans.

“On your knees; lemme give you another little present.”

You move before you can think. And from here, your uncle looks much bigger, like he did when you were a kid. He shuffles his jeans and underwear lower, and at last, his cock springs out and you swallow. You ignore your mind when it repeats that this is your uncle, this is wrong, this is sick. Instead, you lean forward without prompt from him, and lick a stripe up the pierced shaft of him.

“Oh ho ho, you’re a naughty one, aren’t you? You’ve been practicing, huh? For your uncle?”

You don’t answer. You suck the tip of him until he groans again, and descend on him like you’re starving for it. He hits your throat, and you hear the first words of an apology, a dismissal in case you can’t take it. But you cut him off as you swallow him a little deeper and look up at him as well as you can like this. Tears prickle and tease the corner of your eyes and when his hand cups your cheek, his thumb wipes it away.

“ Fuck, little bird, you take it like a champ. Bet you’d let me fuck that little throat of yours until you couldn’t talk, wouldn’t you?”

You nod and his hips snap forward; a small taste of what that could be.

“I’ll take you up on that some other time, birdie. Come up here, sit on your uncle’s lap.”

You stand, legs shaky, but he stops you before actually sit on him. Sneaky fingers slip under your t-shirt again, and he pushes your underwear down your legs until it falls to the floor. It all feels so practiced, so planned. He has his hand on your hip again, and the thumb of the other hooks the front of your shirt and tugs so he can get a look.

“Pretty little thing,” he breathes out the words, “turn around, babe.”

You do, uncertain of his motives, but a hand on your back gives you just enough of a hint. You bend over, spread your legs, and with your hands on the coffee table, your hole is completely on display for him. Between your legs, you catch sight of his hand on his cock, fisting it in quick jerks while he stares. You look away, embarrassed, but there’s a sensation, unfamiliar and surprising, and you realise he’s pressing a sloppy kiss the same hole his fingers had spread.

“So fucking cute and sweeter than candy,” he murmurs before giving your rear a quick bite. His hands, massive on you, grab your hips again.

“Knees on the couch,” all politeness is dropped.

It’s awkward and you’re a little clumsy, but your knees are at either side of his thighs and you keep yourself steady with a grip on his knees. He pulls you down by the hips, slowly, slowly, until the head of him pokes against you.

“Point of no return, little bird.”

He’s offering you an out. It warms your heart, and your brain screams to take it, but your body has no interest in ignoring something so good and so freely given. You press your hips down, but he stops you.

“Turn. Sorry. I wanna see that pretty face when I fill you.”

Another quick shuffle and you’re on your knees, facing him this time, with your hands on the back of the couch to brace yourself.

“Oh you look good on top of me, sweetheart. Come on now, little lower,” you lower yourself, this time working with the tug of his grip and again, he pokes at your entrance. His tugging stops and you take the lead. Inch by splitting inch, you take him. His head falls back against the couch with each one, his jaw slacks, and his only words are a quiet “fuck” when your ass is against his thighs.

“Feels like you were made to take me,” he chuckles through the words. You know he doesn’t want to force you, but there’s a squeeze on your hips again.

You raise your hips and drop them and you’re met with a shuddering breath. His throat bobs as he swallows, but his eyebrows give away his feelings more than anything. Apology.

“I’m sorry, birdie, I can’t hold back anymore.”

He slams himself into you and you choke out a moan. You hoped your control would last, but he’s stronger, he’s faster, he’s more experienced, and most of all, he knows exactly what he wants from you. Thrust after thrust, the heat in your stomach grows, you squeeze around him when you can, you even sneak in a few kisses to his throat in retaliation for his earlier ones. But your moans have mingled in the air; they’ve brought forward fantasies and confessions and they’ve forced your arms around his shoulders and his arms around your waist and you’re nose to nose with him as he fucks into you like he’d die without it. Between moans and grunts, words slip out.

“Fuck, baby, yes !”

“No one else s’gonna touch you, no one, mine, say it, say you’re mine!”

“Love you so much, love you so much, say it, lemme hear it, w-wanna, I need it!”

All peppered with your name moaned in a tone you’d never expected from your uncle. He sees the blotches of blush, hears the change in your moans, and he knows what you need. He changes his angle just a little and with one hand, plays with your most sensitive spot, the one that makes your back arch and your voice high.

“That’s it, little birdie, you wanna cum for me? Yeah? You wanna cum all over me?”

You nod - it’s a frantic movement and your nails dig into where they meet his shoulders.

“Tell me.”

“Wanna cum all over you, please please!”

“Hmm…dunno if that’s good enough,” he chuckles and kisses your cheek, then his gaze fixes between your legs again. Once more without thinking, you cup his cheeks and you press your nose against his.

“Wanna cum all over you, please, I wanna feel your cum in me too, fuck, please, Uncle ‘Zashi,” you kiss him before he can respond, but the groan that rumbles through him is enough to know his answer.

His fingers move faster, his other hand moves to cup the back of your neck, all but crushing you against him while his tongue demands to tease yours, and his cock rubs you just so . All together, it’s too much, it’s too good, and you moan his name into his mouth as the heat from your stomach darts to your extremities and pleasure follows each ripple. His hips don’t slow for even a moment; the fingers that were against you leave(thankfully; it was becoming too much) and that arm wraps around you. You savour his grunts and huffs and moans mingled with the slap of skin on skin. You kiss his jaw, his neck, his earlobe, anywhere you can reach until his hips stutter and he’s so impossibly close but there’s something stopping him. And you know exactly what.

“You’re so close, come on, cum for me?”

He moans your name, you know he’s right there.

“Fill up your little birdie, please, uncle ‘Zashi.”

“Fuck!” his voice breaks and he whines as he pulls you right down against him as his cum fills you and you moan against his ear.

“Thank you thank you, oh my God , thank you, uncle ‘Zashi.”

Breathless, he rests his head against the back of the couch again, and when you stand, your legs are jelly.

“Where y’goin’, kiddo?” he asks with his gaze fixed on the thick globs of cum slipping down your thighs.

“Wanna get cleaned up.”

His face drops for a moment, but you hold out your hand.

“Come with me?”

He stands so fast, he almost falls and you laugh at him.

The consequences can wait. You’re going to enjoy every sordid moment you can until the sun comes up.

He wraps around you in the shower and his fingers play over your skin under the guise of cleaning you. And corny as it is, he presses a kiss to your cheek and whispers "happy Valentine's day, little birdie."