#time loops are fun from every angle

[captainkirkk]

Currently thinking about the people who AREN'T stuck in the time loop and how jarring that must be

Imagine: You wake up to a morning like any other morning and suddenly you don't recognise your friend. Your friend has lived for years - decades, maybe - in worlds that you can't possible understand and it shows. You don't understand. Your friend was fine yesterday.

And even if you find out about the time loops, you have no memory of them. You can plan, but it's probably something your past selves have already tried. You can offer comfort, but you can't tell them anything they haven't heard before. And you can't go with your friend into tomorrow. You're just a ghost.

[arodykeism]

some bobbles (+ two unfinished things)

[gaykarstaagforever]

YouTube has this thing now called YouTube Playables (great name as usual, guys; it's not a children's snack pack), that are basically in-app "Flash games"-style things that are just enough game to keep you watching ads.

The ones of these that aren't direct ripoffs of owned IP (very specifically Zuma) are barebones exercises in that bog-standard FTP addictive mobile gaming loop we all know and hate but also LOVE, minus the in-app purchases (for the time being). Like, shallow systems that are fun for exactly 30 minutes, then get stupidly hard so you'll pay to win, though you can't do that yet, so...kind of pointless.

...I still spent FOUR HOURS playing these, because they tapped into my primitive lizard brain's desire to try and master an utterly meaningless task and then feel undooly smug about it.

I didn't get any ads, because I'm a stooge that pays real money to Google every month for this, because once you go adless, you CANNOT go back. Which kind of negates the whole point of these, as addictive time-wasters that keep you glued to the platform and its commercials? But I already pay for YouTube and STILL got caught in these, so I suppose everything is going according to YouTube's plan either way, and I need meaningful human relationships.

But THAT isn't going to happen any time soon! So let me waste another evening on these by reviewing some crap garbage games for idiots that no one cares about, on Tumblr dot com!

1. Totemia: Cursed Marbles

It's Zuma. That's it. With a couple minor tweaks that make it harder and more annoying.

Just license Zuma, YouTube. I think you can afford the, what, $25 that would cost atm?

2. Sword Play

An on-rails sword slashing game (you don't control the movement, just the slashing), and you kill plastic doll guys before they kill you.

At some point they get projectiles that move really fast, that you can only destroy via specific directional QTEs that don't register properly half the time, because this is all relative finger smearing across the screen.

It was fun before that. The guys fall apart specific to how you slash them. That's something.

3. Dessert DIY

This one sucks. You're just picking from very limited options, then doing specific motions to trigger animations that create desserts that don't even look much like the promo art. People request different things, but early game all they ask for is "whatever you want to make" and "do one out of poop with bugs on it to make someone I hate throw up."

And then there's an animation of someone accepting what is obviously poop with bugs on it from their sworn enemy, they eat it anyway, then vomit.

The only fun part about this is the shameless inclusion of NPCs that look like celebrities, specifically Billie Eilish, Kanye West, and Donald Trump.

If you want to make a poop ice cream cone with bugs on it and feed it to Trump until he vomits all over his desk, this is the game for you. Otherwise, this is meh even for one of these meh games.

4. Bowmasters

Dueling Angry Birds, but you have no control of the camera and it focuses on you so you have to trial-and-error the degree of angle and throwing force to figure out how to hit and kill your opponent before they hit and kill you.

There are many colorful pop culture-inspired combatants to unlock, with a huge variety of projectiles of different weights, sizes, and behaviors. This is the most "very nearly a real, good game" one of these.

...Except that the level progression forces you to do Bonus Rounds, and one of those is "knock fruit off the head of an opponent without hitting them, and you have to do this like 5 times in a row, and we move you further away from them another 30 yards every round, and you have to use a wildly different unique projectile every round, and you get 3 chances, and that includes if you miss entirely."

It is basically impossible to do this, because your ever-changing location makes calculating arcs and force, with the ever-changing projectiles, impossible, in this limited amount of attempts. It turns into grinding it out until RNG randomly makes you win.

Which is a shame, because otherwise, this is fun. But you WILL get stuck on a stupid fruit round and stop playing this.

5. Mob Control

You have a cannon that launches blue guys. The NPC opponent does red. You both are trying to bumrush the other's base, taking advantage of buttons and switches and bonus gates that speed you up or slow you down and multiply your number of guys. Guys annihilate each-other when they run into each-other, so you need to overwhelm Red before they overwhelm you.

It's fun until it gets so fast that it becomes a chore to manage where precisely to launch guys specifically to annihilate other guys.

6. Merge Master

This goddamn game. This was 3.5 hours of my 4 hour playtime.

You have a grid board, with you at the bottom and an opponent at the top. You both have an army of warriors and dinosaurs, and a team HP bar. You click go, the warriors fire projectiles and the dinosaurs melee the nearest enemy, and last man standing wins.

Before each round, you can arrange the placement of your army, and use money you won from the last rounds to buy more warriors and dinosaurs. But the kicker is, you can combine like warriors and dinosaurs to make more powerful units, which you keep at the end of every round. They don't gain XP or anything, but as you make more money, you can buy more 1st-level units (that's all you can buy), and gradually combine them and then combine the combinations, and on and on and on, making incredibly powerful new units. And you need a mix of low-level and high-level units to have enough melee dinosaurs and projectile-throwers to overwhelm high-level enemy units, or draw fire away from your own, against the ever-changing enemy army each round.

It's a process of slowly adding more units and combining them to make stronger and stronger units, and as many of them as you can get, accounting for the limited board space. Also the price of units rises exponentially each round, so you may have 1 trillion gold, but at this point a new 1st-level dinosaur costs 245 billion.

I couldn't stop with this. It just got me. I wanted to see new exciting high-level warriors and dinosaurs, and see how fast I could take the other army down. There's more than zero strategy at work here, and battles can vary substantially from round to round, depending on what mix of units the enemy brings to the board.

It's still a rudimentary Flash-esque game, and very much akin to those shitty mobile boss rush games that raid our shadow legends. But it's not PTW yet, and the graphics are a charming and distorted replica of early 2000s 3D games, like Age of Mythology or GTA 3. It felt like something, for awhile.

It isn't, and I wasted valuable battery charge on this stupid shit. But I was having fun. And sometimes, that's enough.

...And posting about it here. It's something to talk about that isn't the world eating itself.

And we all need that sometimes.

[skyguytoast]

𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐀𝐌 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐑𝐎𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄....

warning: some of the headcanons are explict, +18.

a/n: hii again, i guess writing headcanons allow me to pour out my thoughts about this movie, hope you enjoy and if you fell like comment or reblog, this literally makes my day😻😻

• Sam would never openly admit he was in love—not at first. Instead, he’d annoy you just to get a reaction. A poke to your ribs, flicking a paper ball at your head, pulling your hair lightly when you weren’t paying attention. He thrived off of your exasperated looks and playful shoves, convincing himself it was just fun. But deep down, it scared the hell out of him—this thing he was feeling, this pull toward you he couldn’t ignore. • When Sam finally admitted his feelings to himself, he didn’t waste time hiding them from you. No grand gestures, no cheesy romance movie confessions—just raw honesty. One night, while you sat together, he fidgeted with his rings before finally muttering, "I think about you all the time. And I don’t know what to do about it." His voice was quiet, but his eyes held nothing but sincerity. • Your first kiss wasn’t planned—it just happened. You leaned in to kiss his cheek, and at the last second, he turned his head, your lips colliding in an accidental but electric moment. You froze, staring at each other for what felt like forever, before his hand found your face, adjusting the angle—then he kissed you for real, slow and deliberate, as if he was memorizing every second. • Sam never officially asked you to be his girlfriend —he just assumed you were. You liked each other, you spent all your time together, so why did you need labels? But when he noticed how much it would mean to you, he actually tried. He showed up at your place, awkwardly holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers, and grumbled, "So... do you, uh, wanna make this official or something?" • Sam wasn’t big on PDA, but he always made sure you felt his presence. A hand resting on your back, fingers hooked into your belt loops, a casual arm around your waist when he pulled you close. Sitting together, his hand would absentmindedly rest on your thigh, tracing tiny circles with his thumb. It was never too much—just enough to remind you that you were his. • Behind closed doors, though? Sam was needy. He always had to be touching you—arms wrapped around your waist, head resting in your lap, kissing your temple as he pulled you against his chest. At night, he’d curl up behind you, pressing sleepy kisses to the back of your neck before muttering, "You’re stuck with me, you know that?" like some sort of half-assed love confession. • He made you a playlist, and it was the closest thing to a love letter you’d ever get from him. The songs were scrawled onto the back of a CD cover, his handwriting messy but unmistakable. You skimmed the tracklist and smirked. "'Can’t Take My Eyes Off You'?" you teased. "Didn’t take you for a Frankie Valli guy." He shrugged, avoiding eye contact. "You like it, don’t you?" • Even though he’d never say it outright, Sam loved how you listened to him. When he rambled about obscure bands, the evolution of punk, or why a specific 1979 guitar riff was way better than its 1980s version, you actually listened. You asked questions, nodded at the right moments, and even remembered random facts he told you weeks ago. It made something in his chest go tight. • You had a habit of stealing his sweatshirts and t-shirts, and even though he grumbled, he secretly loved it. Seeing you in his oversized hoodie, drowning in his scent, made something primal in him soften. One day, he crossed his arms and smirked, "So, uh… think I could borrow my sweatshirt back? Or are you just gonna take over my whole closet?" • Sam wasn’t the type to talk about the future, but in quiet moments, he let it slip. Like when you were sprawled across his bed, talking about nothing, and he absentmindedly murmured, "You know, I’d go anywhere with you." Or when he pressed a kiss to your forehead and whispered, "I don’t know how you put up with me, but I hope you never stop." Because even if he didn’t say the words I love you all the time, you felt it in every little thing he did.

+𝟏𝟖 (𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒)

• You were Sam's first time. Before you, he had only known the fleeting pleasure of his own hand and imagination. He had touched himself countless times, stroking his hardening cock until thick ropes of cum painted his stomach. But nothing could have prepared him for the ethereal, overwhelming sensation of being inside your tight, wet heat. Your body was his new temple, and he wanted to worship every inch of it. With each thrust, each deep stroke, Sam felt a primal connection, a claiming that transcended the physical. You were his now, in a way he had never belonged to anyone before.

• Sam whines and whimper whenever you give him a blowjob. When your luscious lips wrap around the head of his cock, Sam is helpless to keep quiet. Guttural moans and whimpers tear from his throat, his back arching off the bed as he fists the sheets for support. Tears of overwhelming sensation prick the corners of his eyes, his vision blurring as you take him deeper, your nose pressing against his pelvis. The wet heat of your mouth, the flick of your tongue, the gentle suction - it's all too much, yet not enough. Sam's balls tighten, his cock pulsing and throbbing against your tongue as he fights the urge to thrust into your mouth, to fuck your face until he paints your throat with his release.

• Sam adores being at the mercy of your desires, in the delicious agony of giving up control. He loves the feeling of your body moving above him, your breasts bouncing hypnotically as you ride him with wild abandon. The sight of you taking your pleasure from him, using him for your own satisfaction, is the ultimate turn-on. Sam's hands roam your body, squeezing the globes of your ass, thumbing your nipples, mapping every dip and curve. He wants to learn you by touch alone, to commit your body to memory. As you chase your orgasm, Sam loses himself in the erotic dance of your coupling, drunk on the sensation of being so deeply, thoroughly fucked.

• But Sam also knows how to take charge when you need him to, to give you what you crave. He pins your wrists above your head, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he holds you down, immobilizing you completely. His hips snap forward, driving into you with a force that rocks the bed and shakes the headboard against the wall. The room fills with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, of your desperate moans and his whining grunts. Sam's blue eyes darken with lust and possession, his gaze boring into yours as he marks your body with his touch, his teeth, his cock.

• In the missionary position, Sam braces himself above you, his arms trembling with the effort of holding back, wanting to prolong the moment. As he feels his climax approaching, Sam buries his face between your perfect breasts, motorboating your cleavage and breathing in your intoxicating scent. He nips and sucks at the sensitive skin, determined to mark you as his. As his orgasm builds, Sam's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh, no doubt leaving bruises behind. With a whimper that's part pleasure, part pain, Sam hilts inside you one last time as he comes, his cock pulsing and jerking, flooding your womb with his hot, thick seed. His face remains buried in your cleavage as his body shaking with the force of his release. In that moment, Sam knows he would do anything, anything at all, to keep you by his side, to hold onto this feeling of utter completion and belonging. You are his, and he is yours, and nothing will ever tear you apart.

[bunnywithablog]

Hi! I saw that requests were open, so I wonder... can I request an imagine or headcanons (whatever you're more comfortable doing) about Legosi falling for a carnivore s/o and struggling with that after being so sure to be attracted to herbivores only please??

my writing chops are a bit rusty so please excuse me if this feels a bit off 😭 i had lots of fun writing it though!! if anyone is interested in a part 2, please let me know! i think it's a cool concept to explore and would love to do more with this >:) thank's for requesting and i hope you enjoy!

requests | rules | masterlist

pairing: Beastars - legoshi x carnivore!gn!reader - feeling conflicted over falling for a carnivore hc’s

warnings: internalized ...species-phobia??, brief locker-room talk from bill, implied love triangle if you squint

- now this just threw him for an absolute loop

- i mean, sure legoshi has always been more than capable of recognizing when a carnivore would be considered conventionally attractive

- but to actually FEEL attracted to them himself???

- manages to convince himself that maybe he just really likes you,,,,as a fellow peer?

- why else would he feel so strongly towards you?

- it had to be some pack-mentality science! yeah, definitely! 🤔

- but it's hard to ignore the way his ears perk at the sound of your voice during class

- or the slight wag of his tail when he catches your scent in the hallways

- or how his heart seems to stop whenever you look in his direction,,,, 💗

- it's like you were sent into his life specifically to shake him up, it's so confusing!

- so his best solution to this? avoiding you entirely.

- outta sight outta mind 🫡

- sitting extremely far away from your spot in classes, changing which hallway routes he takes, getting to and leaving the cafeteria way before/after you

- it's a perfect plan, really!

- except you don't leave his mind

- no matter where he is or what he's doing, images and questions about you creep into his thoughts

- 'what do they like to do in their free time? they have a really pretty smile, i bet it attracts a lot of people... are they interested in dating right now? would they even be interested in a grey wolf, for that matter? how do they keep their fur looking so soft?'

- he even makes more time to hang around with haru to try reinforce his established attraction to just herbivores

- the only thing this really achieves is sending him into a spiral about how he's attracted to two different people now

- and when you get scouted into the drama club as one of the dancers, it's even harder to keep you out of his sight

- starts making slip-ups with angling the lighting correctly since his focus can't help but shift to you during rehearsals

- the others in the backstage crew actually start asking if he's alright because he never makes this many mistakes

- he thinks every movement you make is so graceful, controlled and confident,,,

- it's a testament to the way you own your strengths and effortlessly channel them into your skills; it makes it undeniably alluring to watch the way you move

- wait! no! it's normal for most carnivores to be good at the physical arts so it's not attraction, just admiration for how good you are!

- denial is a river in egypt,,,,

- this cycle goes on for quite some time until the first dress rehearsal

- "oh man, did you see how good [name] looks out there in their costume? what a hot bod, especially doing all those poses and bends during the dance routine! heh, what i'd do to get a piece of that... huh? hey, legoshi, what's got you all wound-up?"

- hearing bill talk about you like that and subsequently having to hold back from hurtling a mean punch his way, legoshi finally accepted that this was a feeling he had to address 💀

- despite the borderline obsessive pull toward you, he realizes he doesn't actually know you beyond being classmates and drama club members together

- eventually concludes the best course of action is to formally introduce himself and hopefully spend some time together

- figures it's also a good way to see if these feelings grow or fade the more he gets to know you, maybe it really is just some carnivore pack-mentality thing!

- best-case scenario is that he just really wanted to be friends with you so he can continue pursuing haru without worry, but only time will tell now...

enjoy what i write? consider helping with my transition! 💕

[snail-day]

Second Male Lead Syndrome

Sum: Maybe you don't got this nerdjo!

Nerd! Gojo x Reader x FWB! Geto

Previous // Next Part // Masterlist

WC: 2.4k

TW: Angst, Yearning, Anxiety, love triangle-ish, alcohol references.

a/n: A bit short...but I promise the next one will be longer and fluffy <3

Second Male Lead Syndrome — a tragic but familiar condition. Occurs when the audience falls hopelessly in love with the second male lead. When he's sweet and thoughtful, perhaps a little bit stupid, and still doesn’t get the girl. Not because he didn’t try hard enough. But because he never stood a chance.

Satoru had always laughed at those characters. Thought why waste all that time on a girl who didn’t have their eyes set on you. It would never work out, plenty of fish in the sea, etc.  

Until now.

When the room is dim. Soft, warm lighting flickers against the walls. The playlist he curated for you hums softly in the background, some gentle acoustic loop he’d replayed twenty times to ensure the instrumentals didn’t overpower the mood, mostly to ensure he could still hear your voice. The dice scattered like different colored fallen stars across the table, and everyone is still buzzing from the final boss fight. The victory. And the drinks.

And you’re giggling.

But not at him. Not like how he imagined tonight would go. 

You’re pressed just a little too close to Suguru, your shoulder brushing his. Your knees angled towards his. The sound of your laugh, light and tipsy, spills like wine from your lips as Suguru leans in - voice low, mouth grazing the shell of your ear as he murmurs something only you get to hear. Something that makes you smile like that, he hung the stars. Soft. Genuine.

And how your body leans into his like it’s instinct. Like he's the male lead in your fairy tale.

Satoru feels the punch to the gut. The anxiety and thoughts spiraling.

Perhaps Satoru had poured your drinks a little too strong. Just enough for you to laugh at Suguru’s jokes without overthinking them. So much that you don’t seem to notice how Satoru hasn’t said anything in a while, since the campaign ended. How his throat’s been dry since he saw Suguru press his hand to the small of your back.

That’s fine. He doesn’t drink. He wanted you to have fun. To loosen up. To look at him the way you’re looking at Suguru now - with stars in your eyes, a lazy smile on your lips hanging onto every little word he speaks. 

When Suguru offers to take you home, Satoru nods too quickly. A weird hiccup of a smile jerks across his face. He can’t even stop himself from asking, “Oh - wait, do you two… know each other?”

You blink. Suguru answers first. “Nope. First time meeting tonight.” His voice is light. Easy. Full of lies.

Then why does it feel like you’ve done this a dozen times?

His broad, firm hand rests on your lower waist, as if it’s the normal placement. His lips brush your ear, and you laugh and Satoru just stands there, watching it all happen like some pitiful side character in the background of a romance anime.

Cool. Awesome. Great. Everything is fine. Everything is wonderful. Amazing actually. 

When he leans in to hug you goodbye, you hesitate. Something breaks in his chest. 

Just for a second. But he feels it. The stiffness in your spine. The polite curve of your arms. The awkward way you both move in the same direction and fumble for an angle. It ends up being a weird, lopsided side hug. Like coworkers. Or strangers who once made small talk in a group chat.

Still, your cheek brushes his chest. And his heart, traitorous and loud, slams against his ribs like it’s trying to get to you. He can’t help it. You’ve captured him, maybe without even knowing it.

He remembers earlier. Just the two of you in the kitchen.

You’d gone to grab more cups. He followed. Said something about helping. Maybe even meant it, but mostly, he just wanted to be near you.

And then you turned. Bumped into him with a soft, surprised “oh!” - the rim of the stacked cups hitting his chest, your body brushing his in a way that sent a spark straight through him. His baby blues went wide, snowy lashes fluttering, before his lips moved into a crooked smile as you looked up at him.

And fuck.

The overhead light hit your features just right, soft eyes sparkling, lips parted, cheeks flushed from laughing in the other room. He could see the curve of your throat, the way your breath caught just slightly from the impact, and he froze. His heart stuttered. Stumbled. Something in his chest bloomed. Warm. Stupid, maybe even a little hopeless.

His pale cheeks flushed, a soft red hue blooming across skin that rarely saw the sun. Embarrassment? Or awe, or maybe just the raw gravity of you standing this close? His mouth parted, but no sound came. Not a joke. Not a clever line. Just this aching silence as he tried to remember how to breathe.

He should’ve stepped back.

But god, you were so close. And you were looking at him like you saw him, just for a second. Like maybe you somehow knew how badly he wanted to lift a hand and cradle your face, just to see if you’d lean into it. To see if you’d soften into his touch.

His fingers twitched at his side. He didn’t touch you. Didn’t dare. What if it made you uncomfortable? Instead, he just stood there, letting himself feel it. The burn in his chest. The ache in his spine from holding himself still. The desperate, idiotic hope that you might say something to break the tension. That this moment could mean something.

Instead, he laughed. A little loud. A bit awkward.

“Oops, sorry,” he said, a bit winded, like you hadn’t just knocked the breath out of his lungs.

And you, god, you just smiled. Brushed past him like nothing had happened, cups hugged to your chest, already back in the living room.

He stayed there. Alone. Staring at the space where you’d been. Swallowed hard and wiped his sweaty palms against his pants like that might make the heat in his body disappear. Moving to slowly fan himself.

He’s been replaying that moment ever since, chest tight, fingers aching, wondering if you even noticed how hard he was trying not to touch you.

You say, “thank you.” Pulling him back from his thoughts. Smile at him, a little flushed, a little tipsy. Your voice soft, barely there, and it hits him harder than anything. Something about it feels... personal. Like you're sharing a moment with him, even if it's fleeting. A moment he plans of selfishly keeping for himself.

He watches you go, watches Suguru’s hand fall to your lower back, slipping a little lower to the curve of your bottom when you think no one’s looking.

Satoru’s heart drops, and it feels like it’s stuck somewhere in his throat, aching to escape. He tries to look away, tries to force himself to move, but he can’t stop watching. He’s breaking, and he knows it.

If it were him…

If it were him, he would be so careful with you. He would be the one bringing you to his guest room, making sure you were comfortable, asking if you needed anything. He would keep his distance, respect it, because you’re tipsy, and you shouldn’t make any decisions right now, but damn it, if he had just a little more time with you... He’d do it right. He wouldn’t rush, wouldn’t make you feel anything you didn’t want to feel. He’d just be there.

Imagining it for a second: You on the plush bed. Him nearby in the armchair, a safe distance but close enough that he could feel the warmth of your presence. He could put on a movie, something silly and light. Keep it all casual. But he would be there, just for you.

And maybe you’d look at him like you did Suguru. Maybe you’d laugh with him the way you laughed with Suguru. But maybe... maybe not. Maybe he’s just fooling himself.

Satoru shakes his head, white hair tumbling, breath shaky. He tries to laugh at his own thoughts. But it’s not funny. It hurts, this stupid ache in his chest that he can’t shake. He can't help the sting in his pretty baby blues.

Suguru glances back at him as you both walk down the hall, with a smile that seems to border smug and something else, like he knows something Satoru doesn’t. Acting like he’s already won the girl. Satoru can't help but wave at him. To call out, get home safe!

A laugh escapes under his breath, a dry, bitter sound. Just shut up, Satoru. But it’s like his mind won’t let him stop. It just keeps playing the same damn scene over and over.

He closes the door quietly, pressing his back against it. Lets out a shaky breath as he sinks down to the cold floor, heart still hammering in his chest, and he wonders if you even noticed him at all tonight.

Of course, you didn’t. You barely know him. You might never look at him that way.

But god, he wishes you would. Just once.

Second Male Lead Syndrome, Yeah.

Yeah, that tracks.

Because you were never going to pick the weird, twitchy nerd who overplans events like this and builds NPC backstories with tragic romances just to feel something. You were never going to pick the guy who practices your character intro alone in his room fifteen times, rehearsing the words in front of a mirror, trying to make it sound casual. Trying to sound like someone who knows what they’re doing. The guy who lit a candle because a Reddit post said vanilla makes people feel comforted, and for a second, he thought it might work. Might make you feel a little more at home.

You were always going to pick the one with the guitar. The one with the voice like honey, deep and effortless, who doesn’t have to try. The one whose touch doesn’t tremble when it’s on your arm, whose hands know exactly where to go without hesitation. The one who stands next to you with a calm that makes it look easy.

Satoru, on the other hand, is all scrambled signals. His heart races whenever you look his way, his mind spirals when he hears your laugh, and yet he can’t seem to say anything that makes sense. All he’s good for is stuttering through words, trying to look cool but always coming across as the awkward guy who thinks too much about the wrong things. His white hair falls into his face, messy strands he constantly pushes out of his eyes with the back of his hand, the motion becoming so habitual now as he feels the back of his hand become damp. His glasses slipping down his nose even though he keeps adjusting them, his thumb swiping over the frames in vain. A perfect image of someone who can never quite get it together.

And his heart? God, his heart is still pounding so hard that it’s all he can hear. Every thump is a reminder that he’s falling for someone who will never fall for him.

Why did nobody warn him this could happen?

Warn that his heart will ache in a place he can’t quite reach.

But it's fine. You both were just simply not meant to be. That's how life works, right?

He starts cleaning up, clumsily, awkwardly, trying to do anything to distract himself from the growing ache in his chest. He grabs the dice first, tossing them a little too forcefully into the velvet bag, the clattering sound loud against the quiet. Then the maps, scrunched and crumpled slightly from too many fingers running over them in nervous gestures. Finally, the snack pile looking more like a sad, squashed dragon than something worthy of a group of excited players. It wasn't worthy for someone like you.

He tries not to think about Suguru’s lack of goodbye. Or the way you didn’t look back when you left. The way your smile seemed to fade the moment you turned away from him. He tries, really tries, but his brain keeps betraying him, whispering that you're already slipping further away.

I just wanted to get to know you.

But no matter how hard he tries to focus on folding the papers, stacking the snacks, all he can hear is the quiet thrum of his own voice whispering in his mind:

I was never the main character, was I?

And it hurts, the pull of his heartbeat, the way it feels like he's running in place while you’re already walking away. Like he’s standing still in a world that keeps turning without him.

So for the first time in a long, long while, after the last chip crumb was swept and the candles were blown out, he didn’t stay up to play League. He didn’t refresh Reddit - not even the post he made about you, about how to win the girl. Didn’t pace around the living room rerunning conversations he wished had gone differently.

Instead, he grabbed his worn white teddy, the one no one knows about, the one he keeps tucked behind his pillows, and curled up in a ball on the far side of his bed. No Twitch stream humming in the background. No playlist lulling him into false peace.

Just silence. And stillness.

And somehow, for the first time in weeks, Satoru fell asleep. Not the jittery kind of rest he was used to, where his thoughts wouldn’t stop spiraling, but real sleep. Deep, heavy, and warm.

He didn’t even hear the chime of your message:

Got home safe! Thank you for today <3 I actually… have had a change of plans for Saturday and I was wondering if we could play a game together? Or we can go outside too! Touch grass as the kids say! :) Let me know! Goodnight Toru

Your name lights up his screen. The little heart. The nickname. The open door.

But he’s already dreaming.

Wrapped around a teddy bear and too heartbroken to know that maybe he was the main character after all.

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[kaxserlvr]

Part 1

It had been three days since it happened. Three days since your sleepover with Rin .

The moment played on an endless loop in your mind—the way his fingers brushed against your cheek, the quiet intensity in his eyes, the breath you shared before he pulled away at the last second, as if waking from a dream. You hadn’t been the same since. Every time you saw him, your heart stuttered in your chest, your skin prickling with heat.

It was embarrassing, really. You were sure Rin had already forgotten about it, moving on as if nothing had happened. But you? You could barely meet his gaze without feeling like you might combust.

And Rin had noticed.

At first, he thought he was imagining it—the way you would fumble your words, the way youd turn away too quickly whenever he so much as looked in your direction. But when he caught you dropping your phone because your hands were shaking too much, he knew for sure. You were acting weird.

Did you regret what almost happened? Were you disgusted? The thought gnawed at him, enough that he decided he’d talk to you. Apologise, if necessary. Maybe even—God, he hated himself for even considering it—tell you how he really felt.

But then he saw you guys.

From across the school field, he spotted you and Sae, standing too close, heads tilted toward each other in conversation. Rin’s heart lodged itself in his throat when he saw your lips move—right next to Sae’s ear. It looked… intimate. And then, Saes hand briefly settling on your shoulder.

Rin’s entire body went cold.

Of course, you would choose Sae. He had known—always known—that you liked his brother. It was why he kept his distance. It was why he never let himself hope.

But knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.

You had no idea that Rin had been there, that he had seen the worst possible angle of something so innocent. You had been telling Sae about Rin. About how you felt. About how you didn’t know what to do after what almost happened between you two.

“I like him,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I think I always have.”

Sae chuckled, shaking his head. “You two are idiots.”

Before you could ask what he meant, you heard footsteps—heavy, hurried. Then a voice, sharp and laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

“Did you have fun?”

You turned around, startled to see Rin standing a few feet away, his fists clenched at his sides. His eyes—God, you had never seen them like this before.

“Rin?” You took a step toward him, but he took one back.

“Don’t.” His voice was strained. “I should’ve known. Should’ve realized that you—” He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Forget it.”

You stared at him, confused, until you saw it. The misunderstanding, the raw emotion bleeding through his usually cold face.

“Wait. You think—” your eyes widened. “No, Rin, it’s not—”

“Save it,” he cut me off, turning away. “I’m done.”

Panic surged through you . No. You couldn’t let him walk away again. Not when you had just gathered the courage to be honest about your feelings.

So you did the only thing you could. You ran after him, grabbed his wrist, and forced him to look at you.

“I was talking about you,” you said breathlessly.

His brows furrowed. “What?”

“I was telling Sae that I like you, Rin.” Your grip tightened. “That I’ve always liked you. That I didn’t know what to do after that night because I thought you didn’t feel the same.”

Silence. A thick, suffocating pause where the weight of both your foolishness settled between you guys.

Then, Rin exhaled sharply, his hand coming up to cup your face.

“You’re an idiot,” he muttered, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

You let out a soft laugh. “So are you.”

And this time, when he leaned in, he didn’t stop.

[love--and--venom]

Protective Instincts: Ateez

Summary: Your best friend shows his possessive nature when another man harasses you

Warnings: Misogynistic comments, intimidation, threats of violence, if I missed anything lmk

The final installment of Protective Instincts!

Protective Instincts Masterlist

Kim Hongjoong

Oh captain, my captain. Atiny knows that ninety five percent of the time, Hongjoong is such a sweetheart. But that last five percent? He’s the fucking master of predator eyes. That intimidating aura works so well for him on stage. Normally when it’s directed at us, it’s light-hearted and doesn’t really have much weight behind it. But on the off chance that he’s truly angry, it’s the scariest thing to see.

You’re beyond relieved that you’ve never been on the receiving end of his glare. Not that Hongjoong could ever be that upset with you. Honestly, his members are a little jealous. But even they get a watered-down version of his intimidation factor. He doesn’t want to scare the people he cares about. Although, he’s more than willing to go all-in when someone is making you uncomfortable. One pleading look from you has him crossing the room in an instant, sliding right up to pull you against his side. The relief that fills your chest is coupled with a blush rising to your cheeks and you have to actively ignore the way his hand falls so naturally to your hip. The guy that was relentlessly flirting two seconds ago is rendered speechless from the malice hidden under the surface of Hongjoong’s smile. While the dude flounders for an excuse, you peek up at Hongjoong. From your angle, that glare makes butterflies erupt in your stomach, which worsen significantly when he glances down at you with a warm softness in his eyes. You don’t even notice the other guy leave until Hongjoong asks if you’re okay. You nod, a little shaky but you’re clearly relaxing now that the other guy is gone. Hongjoong’s grin turns genuinely bright when you immediately agree to stick by him for the rest of the night. You assume that he’s going to put a bit of distance between you now, seeing as he generally dislikes skinship. You’re surprised he’s even kept you pressed to his side for this long. You’re proven wrong when he slides his thumb into your belt loop, letting his hand relax while keeping you close. He may have thoroughly confused you, but you’re just savoring the moment along with how warm he is. Damn, and he smells good. Wooyoung wiggles his eyebrows at you from across the room. You resist the urge to fan your face while tuning back into the conversation in front of you. Hongjoong makes it difficult to concentrate, and he knows it.

Park Seonghwa

Seonghwa doesn’t seek out confrontation. He’s easy to get along with, so he has no need to waste energy being angry for no reason. That’s until someone messes with the people he loves. When that happens, Seonghwa has no qualms about returning the energy. You’re at a fairly large party, which already makes you anxious. You’ve been floating around the groups of idols and non-idols alike, mostly listening to whichever Ateez member is closest to you. At the moment, you’re alone. You have no idea where any of the boys went, and you didn’t want to ruin their fun, so you leaned against the wall in a way you hoped looked casual. The universe has a cruel sense of humor. You’re already jittery and worried about looking weird. And yet in the worst, most twisted joke possible, your fucking high school bully walks into the room. This girl made your life absolute hell just for the fun of it, and now she’s walking toward you with a shit-eating grin. She stops in front of you and the guy she’s with drapes his arm across her shoulders. You cross your arms and shrink in on yourself as she passive-aggressively points out every one of your insecurities. It’s been years but you still don’t know how to tell her to shut the fuck up. Luckily for you, Seonghwa seems to have a sixth sense for when your mood drops. He appears at your side out of nowhere right as she asks how you got into this ‘exclusive’ party, stunning her when he answers by saying he invited you. He effortlessly brushes off her rude comments about you, countering them with a plethora of compliments that redden your cheeks. The final nail in the coffin comes when he switches his intense stare to the guy next to your bully. Without even acknowledging her, he says that she should tell her boyfriend to keep his eyes to himself. Before either of them can react, Seonghwa turns back to her and, with a sly grin, brags about how lucky he is to have you. Her jaw drops while Seonghwa leads you out of the room with a hand resting on your lower back. As you approach the rest of the group, he leans down and whispers that you’ll be having a talk when you get home (wink).

Jeong Yunho

Who needs offense when you have such good defense? You certainly don’t. Not when you can just hide behind Yunho and practically disappear. However, you’re not usually the one that initiates this little routine. Nah, that would be all on Yunho. If he thinks someone is standing a little too close for comfort, he’ll tug you closer to his side by your belt loop. If he thinks a creep is trying to peek under your skirt, he’ll gently maneuver you to stand in front of him. He’s pretty much your one-man protection squad, so much so that you’re hardly ever aware of the issue in the first place. But now you’re rushing over to him with some dude two steps behind you. Yunho’s on high alert the moment you step behind him and grip the back of his hoodie. His look of concern shifts to anger once he sees the tears brimming in your eyes. He offers his hand to you, feeling a primal sense of satisfaction despite the situation when you instantly latch on to him. The guy that followed you is trying to lean around Yunho, but is shoved back by the idol’s free hand. He stares the stranger down while asking you what happened. You quietly tell him that this guy grabbed your arm after you declined a date. He tilts his head and forcefully asks the guy why he was bothering you, his girlfriend. You can’t see the man’s reaction, but you hear his scoff before he goes off on a rant about how you were ‘such a bitch’ and that you should’ve just said you were taken. You cautiously take half a step to the side so you can watch for the guy’s next move. And this asshole tries to push past Yunho?! What, did he think the tiny sliver of your body showing was an opportunity? An invitation? For a moment you’re afraid of the guy . There was nothing to worry about, though, since Yunho shields your body with his own, dropping his hands protectively against your hips as he borderline growls for the guy to back the fuck up. The guy actually listens, albeit with an obscene amount of attitude. Once he’s gone, Yunho pulls you to stand in front of him and you are more than happy to comply. Especially when he’s pressed flush against your back with his arms around your shoulders. 

Kang Yeosang

Another pretty face, deep voice double kill. Yeosang has a whole goodie bag full of unexpected ways he’s intimidating. Anyone that knows Yeosang knows that he hardly ever fights back. He lets his members manhandle him, he let Wooyoung steal his corndog, and he generally just doesn’t give a shit. Atiny is shouting from the rooftops for Yeosang to use those bigass biceps to stand up for himself, but he doesn’t really need to cus he trusts his members. If he asks them to stop doing something, they will. This does not apply to strangers, especially when said stranger is hitting on you relentlessly. He’s not one to step in right away, since he knows you can handle yourself for the most part. When you look at him with a face that screams ‘this is so annoying please help’, he’s quick to attach himself to your side. On his way over, Yeosang drops his hoodie on the back of a chair so that when he crosses his arms and tilts his head at the strange man, his full physique is on display. You’re distracted by his arms because holy shit, the compression shirt. Are you drooling? You might be, to be perfectly honest, but Yeosang ignores it (for now) in favor of interrogating the guy that’s been harassing you. His regular speaking voice isn’t that deep, but he drops it an octave as he asks this rando who he is and why he’s bothering you. The guy stutters over an answer and Yeosang catches you completely off guard when he pulls you closer by your hip and tells the dude to stop bothering his girlfriend. You’re stuck processing the fact that Yeosang initiated skinship and said the two of you were dating, so you don’t even notice the other guy scurry away. You also don’t notice the way your jaw slightly drops until Yeosang gently closes it with a finger under your chin and a smug grin on his face. You’re certain he can feel how warm the sudden flush made you, but he obviously doesn’t care since he doesn’t look like he’s moving anytime soon. You’re left struggling to avoid staring while he chats with some of his other friends. He’s not making it easy. You can’t prove it, but you swear he’s flexing on purpose. 

Choi San

San knows when something’s off even before you do. He’s a protector by nature. He’s constantly looking out for you and his members and is usually one of the first to swoop in and help. This applies heavily when you’re involved. San is part of the demon line for a reason. Don’t fucking mess with him or the people he cares about. You’re regretting your decision to ask San for help at the gym. Every goddamn set ends with him telling you to do one more like four times. You listen, obviously, but you’re shooting daggers at him between sets as you hunch over to catch your breath. The whole time, San’s been laughing at your dramatics and giving you plenty of encouragement. But he’s also been keeping a wary eye on a man that’s been coincidentally doing all of the same exercises you were doing. Coincidence, my ass. This guy has been blatantly checking you out for the better part of an hour and it’s leaving a bad taste in San’s mouth. The man hasn’t tried anything, probably because of the dirty looks being sent his way by San, but that doesn’t mean it’ll stay like that. San is keeping you close to both deter the guy and keep you oblivious. If he can avoid bringing the other man to your attention, he will. There’s no need for added stress. San feels it in his gut that the creep will try something if you’re alone, so when you have to use the bathroom, he begrudgingly agrees. Does he want to walk you over? Yes. Does he have a justifiable reason to do so? Well, yeah. But he doesn’t want to tell you because he doesn’t want to make you anxious anymore than you already are. The gym makes you nervous sometimes. The ‘we don’t judge’ slogan doesn’t always go into practice. Anyway, he’s right. San only looked at his phone for a fucking minute and the dude seized the opportunity, ambushing you as you stepped out of the restroom. This man doesn’t get a single word out before San yanks him away from you by the back of his shirt. Any and all arguments die in the guy’s throat when he sees 1, the terrifying glare on San’s face and 2, the amount of raw power San obviously has in his muscles. The guy pulls an ‘oh sorry thought you were someone else!’ and speed-walks away. You question San, but he tells you not to worry about it as he steers you back to your workout with a hand on your lower back. 

Song Mingi

Another wonderful hiding spot! Unlike Yunho, Mingi doesn’t always notice the little interactions that could make you uncomfortable. You and Mingi are both painfully oblivious most of the time. If neither of you ever actually see the creepy behavior, that means it doesn’t exist! Perfect logic. Until an old man is blatantly and grossly loud with his comments. Apparently the world is this man’s diary, cus he’s just saying everything that crosses his mind. Mind you, this is a quiet cafe. There’s literally no reason to be borderline shouting, especially since there are kids at a nearby tabe. The old man is eyeing you up while he talks about the fun you could have with an ‘experienced man’. You cringe and shrink in on yourself, crossing your arms to try and cover the sliver of skin showing between your shirt and pants. Oh. Oh fuck no. Mingi is not about to stand there and listen to this bullshit. In any other situation, being cornered would put you in fight or flight mode. But this is Mingi. He always has your best interest in mind. You trust him with your life, and vice versa. Mingi backs up, forcing you to do the same until you’re in the corner of the cafe with him acting as a human shield. The old man immediately turns on Mingi, now fully shouting profanities and growing increasingly aggressive. Mingi’s glare turns scary and snaps at the guy to shut the fuck up. The man is momentarily shocked into silence, but it’s more than enough time for the shy barista to speak up. She tells him to leave or she’ll call the cops, and luckily the man listens. Mingi’s face softens as he thanks the barista and apologizes to the mom and her kids for his language. The barista throws a free pastry in with your coffee order. You can tell that Mingi is still angry as you walk down the street. After mulling it over for a few seconds, you grab his hand and suggest going to a nearby park to relax. He perks up and tugs you toward the park while you giggle at his quick mood flip. He sits under a big tree and maneuvers you so you’re sitting between his legs. Mingi dives enthusiastically into a detailed description of his most recent Valorant match with Yunho. You smile and nod in all the right places, but you’re internally freaking out. Which is totally understandable, to be honest.

Jung Wooyoung

I don’t know how it’s possible, but Wooyoung is somehow passive-aggressive and plain aggressive at the same time. The sass level is off the charts. It doesn’t matter if it’s a guy or a girl bothering you, he’s stepping in and putting them in their place. The two of you are doing one of the best boring day activities: wandering the mall, window shopping, and getting yourselves a little treat. You drift away from Wooyoung as the two of you browse a small comic shop. You’re skimming the blurb on the back of a sci-fi novel, minding your own damn business, when this random girl waltzes right up to you and strikes up a conversation. Okay, you weren’t expecting this much social interaction, but she’s so excited to be gushing about the book you’re holding. Her face drops a little when you tell her you’ve never heard of the series before, but she brushes past it and starts praising the author and their writing style. She stops in the middle of her sentence to scrunch her eyebrows at the keychain hanging on your cross-body bag. It’s a drawing of wooyonyang sealed in acrylic, but it’s not one sold on the KQ website. Wooyoung had it specially made as a birthday gift last year, and he drew his Aniteez counterpart himself. It wasn’t a very good drawing, but you cherished it dearly. It seems this girl is an Atiny cus she’s now interrogating you about the keychain and where you got it. You try to deflect it by saying it was a gift, but she’s persistent and asks who got it for you and if they got it off Etsy. You don’t want to say it’s from Wooyoung. For one thing, you don’t want to give any hints about his personal life, but you also don’t want this girl to try and get to him through you. The girl looks at something behind you and her jaw drops. You turn to see the man himself inspecting a figurine a few feet away. He must’ve felt your stare, since he glances over at you and waves. The moment his attention is back on the figure, this girl turns aggressive. She’s in your face, calling you a whore while poking your chest with an accusatory finger. You have absolutely no idea what to do. Luckily, you don’t have to do anything. Wooyoung hears the insults being thrown at you and drops the figure back on the shelf. He comes up behind you so he can press himself as close as physically possible with his chest to your back. You’re used to hugs from him, but this one feels different as his arms wrap possessively around your waist. He squishes his cheek against yours and in a deceptively sweet voice, asks the starstruck girl why she’s insulting you. She blinks once, twice, then furrows her eyebrows. Her attitude drops and she’s wondering why it matters. Oh, it fucking matters. Wooyoung, with all the confidence in the world, looks this girl dead in the eye and tells her not to fuck with his girlfriend. She leaves so fast you half expected a trail of smoke to follow her. You wiggle out of Wooyoung’s hold to glare at him, scolding him since that girl will probably spread around the rumor. He shrugs, smirks at you, then grabs your hand to drag you out of the store. He loudly interrupts your argument, saying he doesn’t care. Let the rumor spread. Jung Wooyoung, you have some goddamn explaining to do, but it doesn’t look like that’s happening anytime soon.

Choi Jongho

To the public, Jongho typically appears serious and mature, with shining moments of humor. To you and the rest of Ateez, Jongho is like his Aniteez counterpart: a big, fluffy, adorable teddy bear. He’s physically one of the strongest members, but since he’s also the youngest, he still gets doted on despite his protests. He pretends to be annoyed by it, but he loves his members and truly appreciates how much they care about him. He’s not affectionate, even if Wooyoung does try to kiss his cheek daily, but he shows his love in other ways. This is usually with acts of service, words of affirmation, and the occasional hug. Those hugs are a little more than ‘occasional’ when it comes to you. The older members tease him whenever he lets his cuteness aggression for you win. Listen, he likes squishing your cheeks, okay? You always scrunch up your nose when he does, and it only makes him want to bite your cheek. Platonically, of course (suuure). Long story short, he cares fiercely and uses his strengths to his advantage when someone is making you uncomfortable. It wasn’t uncommon for you to hang around at the KQ studio. It’s still a smaller company, so you’re familiar with most of the employees. Even if you don’t know them well, you can still recognize everyone’s faces. Today when you walk in, there’s a new face amongst the backup dancers. You greet everyone and take your usual seat on the floor between a cabinet and the soundboard. You like to tuck yourself away while they rehearse so you don’t get in anyone’s way, even though Hongjoong has reassured you numerous times you’re not in the way. Practice is going like normal and everyone is taking a water break. Little cliques form around the room with one person breaking away from the rest. The new guy, whose name you still don’t know, stands directly in front of you. He literally talks down to you, since he refuses to sit or crouch to be on your level. Your neck cranes uncomfortably as you try to figure out what the fuck he’s going on about. One second he’s saying how complicated the choreography is, the next he’s asking for your number. Typical. You politely decline and turn back to your phone, only to jolt from him kicking your shoe. You whip your head up, ready to curse him out, but falter at his sinister grin. He’s blatantly trying to look down your shirt and you hug your knees to your chest. His comments are getting increasingly aggressive, making you curl further into yourself. He’s looming with a hand on the wall above you, pretty much caging you in. He opens his mouth again, probably to call you a bitch for turning down a nice guy like him, but a hand roughly pulls him back by his shoulder. The dancer’s body is replaced with Jongho’s and you sag in relief. Jongho has his back to you, which means you have to force yourself to focus on the conversation and not his ass. He doesn’t need to say anything to the dancer. A glare and one eyebrow raising is enough to make the dancer retreat with his tail tucked between his legs. Jongho shares a knowing look with Hongjoong. The captain nods and silently leaves the room to speak with the manager of the backup dancers. With that taken care of, Jongho turns and crouches in front of you. He reaches out, and you automatically brace yourself for more face squeezes. You’re pleasantly surprised when he gently brushes his knuckles across your cheek, giving you a soft smile before he returns to practice. You watch him walk away with a flush rising on your face. You can tell by their shit eating grins that Mingi and Wooyoung are about to tease Jongho, but Seonghwa stops them with a pinch to their ribs and a sharp look. Not this time. Not when Jongho is so obviously satisfied with himself.

Permanent Taglist @furfoxsake22 @babygirlskz98 @miniverse-zen @holly-here @corgilover20 @eastjonowhere @bookswillfindyouaway @kpetts @vtyb23

Ateez Taglist @cristy-101 @queen-in-the-shadows @thegingerthatwaited

[ilovemarvel97]

She’s My Everything

Elizabeth Olsen x G!P Reader

Summary: Just a sweet morning after a fun night between Lizzie and Y/N

Word Count: 1,360

Warnings: fluff

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

—-

Y/N blinked groggily at the morning light slipping through the half-closed curtains. The sheets were a mess—tangled, sweaty, and deliciously scented with the memory of the night before. She let out a soft groan as her body protested every movement, her limbs still pleasantly sore.

She reached over instinctively, hand patting the empty side of the bed.

No Lizzie.

Y/N frowned slightly, propping herself up on one elbow.

How the hell is she even walking? she thought, smirking to herself.

Dragging her tired body from the bed, she reached for the nearest bra and boxers, slipping them on before grabbing the soft gray shorts from last night. Her hair was an unruly mess, sticking up at odd angles, but she didn’t care. Not when she had one goal in mind.

She wanted to see her wife.

Padding softly across the hardwood floor, she descended the stairs barefoot, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The moment she hit the bottom step, the unmistakable smell hit her—bacon. Of course.

A lazy smile pulled at her lips.

As she neared the kitchen, another familiar sound reached her ears: music. Not just any music.

Her music.

Y/N froze just outside the doorway, heart flipping in her chest.

It was the song—the one she’d written for Lizzie back when they first started dating. The one she sang half-nervously on that rickety piano in her first apartment, when love was still a maybe and Lizzie was already her forever.

And there, in front of the stove, swaying her hips in that loose tee that barely covered her thighs, was Lizzie—singing along to every word.

Y/N bit her lip, the sight nearly knocking the breath out of her. Lizzie looked like magic in the morning light, blond hair tousled, legs bare, and face glowing with soft joy as she cooked and danced, completely unaware of her audience.

Y/N mentally cursed herself for leaving her phone upstairs. Of course, the one time she could’ve caught her wife dancing in the kitchen like something straight out of a dream…

But she didn’t want to interrupt.

Not yet.

She leaned against the doorframe for a long moment, just watching—heart full, body still aching, but soul entirely still.

Lizzie twirled with the spatula, singing the chorus with that soft voice she always swore wasn’t good enough, even though to Y/N it was everything.

“I didn’t know forever had a color…Greeeeeen”

Y/N couldn’t stay away anymore.

She stepped forward silently and slipped her arms around Lizzie’s waist from behind, pulling her back into her chest.

Lizzie gasped, laughing immediately as she relaxed into the embrace. “You scared me!”

Y/N buried her face in the crook of Lizzie’s neck, voice still husky from sleep. “Morning, baby.”

“You’re awake,” Lizzie said, breathless but smiling.

“I woke up alone,” Y/N murmured, then started to softly sing along to the verse playing through the speakers. Her voice, raspy and low, made Lizzie’s breath catch.

“You lit my sky with cherry wine, red lips and borrowed time…”

Lizzie melted back into her, letting the spatula dangle from her fingers as she closed her eyes and leaned into the sound of her wife’s voice.

Y/N gently swayed with her, their bodies pressed close. “You’re still walking,” she teased quietly between lyrics.

Lizzie laughed. “Barely.”

“I was gonna bring you breakfast in bed,” Y/N murmured, “but you beat me to it. Again.”

Lizzie turned in her arms, looping her arms around Y/N’s neck, her smile sleepy and sweet. “You didn’t leave me much energy for cooking. But bacon felt…necessary.”

Y/N grinned, brushing their noses together. “Everything about you feels necessary.”

Lizzie’s eyes softened, fingers playing at the edge of Y/N’s curls. “You say that like you didn’t just wreck me last night.”

“I’ll say it again,” Y/N whispered, tilting her head and kissing her slowly, deeply. “You’re necessary.”

Lizzie giggled against her lips. “God, you’re a sap.”

“I’m your sap,” Y/N whispered. “Forever.”

Lizzie kissed her again, bacon forgotten, music still playing softly in the background.

Lizzie’s fingers brushed down Y/N’s sides, landing at her hips. “Mmm, you’re warm.”

“I just rolled out of a bed that still smells like us,” Y/N murmured against her cheek. “Of course I’m warm.”

Lizzie smiled into the kiss that followed—short, slow, lingering.

Behind them, the bacon sizzled, but neither of them moved.

Y/N’s hands slid beneath the hem of Lizzie’s shirt, caressing the bare skin of her back. “You know, I could get used to waking up to this—music, dancing, bacon… my wife wearing one of my shirts and no pants.”

Lizzie smirked. “I am wearing something.”

Y/N’s eyes gleamed. “Barely.”

They both laughed, pressed forehead to forehead for a moment like the world outside the kitchen didn’t exist. Y/N gave her waist a little squeeze. “Seriously though… seeing you dance to my song? Best damn way to start the day.”

“I didn’t think you’d be up yet,” Lizzie admitted, resting her chin on Y/N’s shoulder now. “You deserved to sleep in after last night.”

“You are the one who deserves to sleep in,” Y/N chuckled.

Lizzie kissed the side of her neck. “I love you.”

“God, I love you too,” Y/N whispered, almost reverently. “You’re my whole everything.”

A loud pop came from the pan.

Lizzie startled. “Crap! The bacon!”

They both scrambled to the stove, Y/N grabbing a fork while Lizzie flipped the pieces with quick little movements, mumbling, “Don’t burn, don’t burn—”

Y/N snuck a slice off the plate.

“Hey!” Lizzie slapped her hip lightly with the spatula.

“I earned that!” Y/N said around a mouthful, leaning against the counter. “You said I deserved bacon.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes with a grin. “You deserve a lot, baby. But not burnt fingers.”

They moved around each other like a dance—effortless, practiced, domestic bliss.

Once the bacon was done, Lizzie pushed Y/N gently toward a stool at the island. “Sit. I’ll make eggs.”

“Bossy,” Y/N teased, turning to walk over to the stool with that lazy, post-morning-glow kind of swagger. As she sat down, Lizzie’s eyes dropped to her back—and she froze.

A gasp slipped from her lips. “Oh my god.”

Y/N looked over her shoulder. “What?”

Lizzie stepped closer, one hand lightly grazing Y/N’s spine, her fingertips brushing the angry red claw marks trailing down her back. “This,” she whispered. “Babe, I—did I really do that?”

Y/N smirked, glancing at her with heat in her eyes and mischief in her tone. “It means I did a good job, right?”

Lizzie’s face went scarlet. “I didn’t realize I—”

“You were a little out of control,” Y/N grinned, clearly proud of the evidence. “But I’m not complaining. Honestly, I might wear a backless shirt today. Let the world know my wife’s got claws.”

Lizzie groaned, hiding her face behind her hands. “You’re insufferable.”

Y/N chuckled, leaning back just enough to shoot her a wink. “And yet you married me.”

Lizzie leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to one of the scratches, then another just below it. “I’m sorry if it hurts.”

“It doesn’t,” Y/N murmured, her voice softer now. “Actually… I kind of like that it’s there. Proof of how much you wanted me.”

That made Lizzie pause. Her arms wrapped around Y/N from behind, her lips brushing over her shoulder. “I always want you.”

Y/N reached back to touch Lizzie’s arm, grounding herself in that moment. “Same, baby. Always.”

She let herself relax into the stool, watching as Lizzie turned back to the stove. Her shirt swayed with each movement almost showing more than it should, the morning light catching the curve of her waist and the warm auburn tones in her hair. It was almost unfair—how she could look like that after the night they had.

Y/N’s gaze softened.

“God,” she said aloud, not even meaning to. “I’m so gone for you.”

Lizzie glanced over her shoulder, face flushed but glowing. “You better be. You married me.”

Y/N rested her chin in her palm, smiling lazily. “Best decision I ever made.”

And as the morning sun poured into the kitchen, catching in Lizzie’s hair and casting soft shadows over their little world, Y/N couldn’t help but think—

She’s my everything.

---

Just a short fluff to make everyone happy ☺️

[abowlofsourcream]

💫⏳ The Switch-A-Loop AU Guide ⏳💫

In this Au, Everyone Loops except Siffrin! This Au will focuses more on the party’s dynamics outside of just Sif. They try their best to figure out what is going on with the help of the mysterious Loop. They will find out more about the curse, the king, and most surprising their lovable rouge! Whether they want to or not…

Have fun!

Special Memories Here!

v The Characters v

- Mirabelle, The Chosen Heroine: Chosen by the Head Housemaiden, She first believes that the loops were the work of The Change God. A silly idea if you knew what she knew but a pleasant idea nonetheless! Besides, this way, she may be actually able to prove herself! This blessing would somehow give her the change she needed! At least… That’s what she thought… So why are they still here? What more does she need to prove? Maybe, the Head Housemaiden would know what happened to the world… Oh, if only there is a way to ask Siffrin what she said to him?

- Isabeau, The Beloved Warrior: You know it’s funny, he always thought that defeating the king would be more impactful. Like in those books you read as a kid! The hero goes on this incredible journey, growing stronger, falling in love, all that jazz! But boy, these Loops took the wind out of his sails! Like, he barely try’s to confess to Sif anymore (not that he feels any less about them). However, now knowing that beating the king wouldn’t stop the loops, the next best thing is to try other ways! Now he doesn’t like to brag, but he’s a pretty smart guy. Siffrin has something to do with what’s happening, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it. Maybe, there is a way to help them help the others! It just might work!

- Odlie, The Wary Scholar: Well, this turns out to be quite more than she signed up for. Not to say that she entirely regrets meeting any of them, they are quite the enjoyable lot to be around… However, it seems these Loops are taking a toll for the lot of them. Fortunately, she is ready to find out what exactly is going on. Luckily, she has taken the time of taking notes, oh she loves her notes! Although, there is a part of the puzzle that at every angle doesn’t quite fit. Siffrin. As much as she doesn’t want to admit it, they are in the middle of all of this Somehow… The fact that they don’t remember the loops, the way the king talks to them, even when he talks to the Housemaiden. The other’s try tell Odlie that it’s probably nothing, that Siffrin is in just as lost as the rest of them. But she just can’t let this go. She will find out why this is happening to her family, whether Siffrin is guilty or not…

- Bonnie, The Pure Hearted: Now, they may not understand what is happening and why all the adults are scared. But that is okay! The party snack leader is here to keep everyone safe, especially Frin. Frin can’t remember like the rest of them, so Bonnie has to make extra sure that he’s okay. Making sure he avoids all the tears, not to hit their hip against that counter, not to eat the pineapple and all that stuff! After all, it’s the least they can do. After what they did to… Anyway, they already somehow got Frin to let them hug him and sometimes he even call them “Bon Bon”! So, the other’s say that Firn and the king might be from that country that everyone forgot or something. Maybe, if you can get the King and Frin to talk… Maybe the King will help them! Like, What’s the worst that can happen! :)

- Loop, The Starstuck Guide: It’s Loop! The incredibly helpful and informative guide to this party! The only one that seems to know all about the loops. The party is unsure about what Loops wants out of this, and all the advice they give is weird/confusing! Also, they are kind of mean? Like, they try to comfort the party the best they can. However, when it comes to Siffrin… They don’t say anything out front about Sif but they do say things about him. Like pointing out all of his deaths or mistakes, lightly insulting him and making fun about how forgetful he is. It’s not great! Like who do they think they are. They just don’t know Siffrin like the rest of the party do… However, there is something familiar about this stranger.

- Siffrin, The DAMNED Traveler: ………………….. It’s all their fault………… just you wait……

[white-hole-station]

The beauty of the Outer Wilds story being told through a game is that the amount of time the player can still find things to do within it, is inherently also the amount of time the Hatchling can find reasons to keep living in the loop (excluding, of course, going through the endings). That means achievement collecting, exploring every single corner of the planets, reading and rereading the Nomai text to map relationships and personalities between them, doing Feldspar-style wildly risky stunts and high speed chases in Dark Bramble - any fun that you, the player, can think to still have in the game after the ship's log is filled out, is another piece of evidence for the idea that this solar system still has so so much to explore and enjoy, even at its end. The fact that the Hatchling got stuck in the time loop instead of living out their future is tragic, from one angle, but from another, it gives them infinite time and a shield of protection to take risks and find things out that they never would have been able to with a normal lifespan and mortal body, and I think that's beautiful.

[gurokiitty]

demon sstrafe and a reader who accidentally summoned him, begging u🙏🙏🙏🙏

a/n: this was my first time writing something with a clear narrative and i had soo much fun!! i hope you enjoy it too, nonnie(s) :3

DELIVERANCE

{ demon! strade x f! reader }

word count : 3281

warnings/tags : NON-CON, past assault/sexual trauma, religious themes, porn with plot, grooming, flashbacks, blood and injury, extreme violence and gore, body horror, dissociation, urine/incontinence, accidental summoning, size difference, demon tongue fucking, cervical penetration, vaginal penetration, evisceration, reader death, implied necrophilia.

You return to the church like a dog to its vomit.

Not for hope. Not for God.

But because there is nowhere else to go.

The chapel is half-eaten by mildew and disrepair, its pews splintered and sagging with the damp. Once-brilliant stained glass windows now weep red with the dying light, casting cruciform shadows on the altar floor. The saints above you have no faces anymore—just sockets, blotted eyes, features patinaed and worn away by time.

You kneel where velvet once cushioned the obedient. Now, the fractured boards beneath the upholstery bite into the hard angles of your knees like the church itself resents your return. It's a familiar pain, familiar posture. Your knees had bent here as a child, reciting the Hail Mary in rhythm with your father's breath.

You clutch the old rosary in your hand—the one from your First Communion. Plastic pearls yellowed by time and sweat, the silver cross rusted along the edges. You’d kept it hidden in a drawer for years, too ashamed to touch it, too afraid to throw it away. Now it’s looped twice around your fist, the crucifix graven into the meat of your palm like it resents being remembered.

"Please," you rasp, not knowing who you're speaking to. “Please—release me.”

You don't expect an answer—you've long forgotten what it feels like to be heard.

You squeeze harder. The cross slices deeper. You want to be clean. You want to be pure. You want to be good again.

Blood trickles down your wrist, drops onto the stone floor, soaks into the cracks where he once stood in pewter light, charming your father with war stories and imported beer. The man with the disarming, accented voice and military medals. The man your father invited in for lunch after Sunday service, letting him set his coat down, letting him stay too long, letting him take too much.

The man you knew then as 'Wilhelm'.

You didn't learn his true name until after his death—when his stubbled face was plastered across every television screen and newspaper headline.

Strade. The name tasted like soot in your mouth.

Not Wilhelm. Not the man who ruined you—whose thumbs pressed into the delicate, frightened skin of your throat while his car idled behind the chapel. Not the man whose hands reached under your dress and pulled your panties aside despite your pleas.

The memory comes in wet, bludgeoning waves.

The sting of the seatbelt buckle digging into your spine when he forced you down across the seats, pinning your hips with his weight as his rancid breath fanned across your face.

The chemical stench of pine air freshener mixing with your virgin blood when he split you open—probing, violent, careless—muttering something in German that you didn’t understand, but would remember anyway.

The soft, endless choke of the rosary between your fingers now, and the ghost of it then—hanging limp around your neck while you begged God to make you disappear.

It wasn’t until your fingers wrapped around his car keys— still warm from the ignition—that you found salvation.

You don’t remember thinking. Only doing. The twist of your wrist, the puncture, the sharp, wet grunt that left his mouth when you drove the keys into his side, just beneath his ribs. You never forgot the way his blood soaked your hand, or how the taste of your own name vanished behind the rush of your heartbeat in your ears.

You remember stumbling out of the car with your dress askew, legs numb and shaking, your thighs sticky with blood and urine. You remember falling—knees scraping gravel, palms skinning open—and the sound of him slamming the car door behind you as you ran blind into the road. You remember the headlights. The driver that stopped. The woman who gasped at the sight of you.

You remember saying nothing.

You told no one. Not your father, not your priest. Not even God.

You buried it, buried him, and he never came back. He disappeared like a sickness the body couldn’t hold any longer, taking with him your faith and everything that once felt sacred.

Years later they found his body rotting in the freezer of an abandoned house, curled fetal between the butcher-papered limbs of missing students. His name was all over the news—the face you’d tried so hard to forget, suddenly everywhere.

And still, somehow, it had never truly left you.

You don’t know how long you’ve been kneeling, only that your knees are bruised into the shape of penance and that the rosary unravels from your fingers like entrails.

And in that moment, in that terrible, holy silence—

The world rips open.

The air fractures. The altar groans. Candles flare to life, one by one, vomiting wax and smoke. The crucifix on the far wall snaps clean down the centre, a great vertical crack bisecting Christ’s weary face.

And then you smell him.

Iron. Sulphur. Burned meat. Memory.

The air tastes like the inside of his car.

You try to move, but your body forgets how. The glass windows seem to melt inward, their colours running like blood at your feet. The church convulses—walls weeping molasses-like ichor, rafters warping into grotesque, jagged angles. The house of God transforms, perverted into a cathedral of rot, consecrated by pain.

Your blood had opened the door.

A clawed hand erupts from the floorboards in the aisle—curved and black, as if pulled from the depths of a kiln. Then another. They dig into the stone like wet clay, dragging the rest of him from the chasm that yawns open below.

He rises slowly, deliberately. Like he knows you’re watching. Like he wants to be seen.

His horns are the first thing to catch the light—huge, curved back from his brow as if carved from obsidian. Wings unfurl behind him, stretching the width of the nave, their membranes glistening like bat leather and dripping dark fluid that hisses when it touches holy stone. His skin is split in places, stretched too thin over a frame that no longer pretends to be human.

His chest bears a hole, cavernous and obscene, ribs cracked open around a heart-shaped absence. In its place, a writhing mass of green smoke pulses with hunger.

He’s so much bigger now—towering, grotesque—but there’s something in his face, in the tilt of his head and the way his eyes glint when they find you. That same glint, the same sick amusement. The same look he gave you before his thumbs pressed against your trachea.

You feel the urine warm your thighs before you even register the fear—and his mouth peels into a grin.

"You," he muses, his voice impossibly deep, like it comes from behind your skull.

Your knees collapse out from under you as you scramble back, hands slipping in your own blood. He follows, slowly, lazily, as if there’s no need to rush. His tongue snakes out, long and green, curling over the edge of his lip as he tastes the air.

“You got big, didn’t you?” His grin widens. “Almost didn’t recognize you without the Sunday dress.”

He crouches low, knees cracking, claws braced against the floor as he tilts his head. You can hear the vertebrae in his neck grind against each other. His gaze drags down your body like candle wax.

"But I could never forget that scent."

You try to recoil, to shrink into the stone, but his hand shoots out and seizes your face. His claws dig into the fat of your cheeks, curling in like meat hooks. The points pierce skin, draw blood. You gasp, your jaw forced open beneath the stretch of his grip. If he squeezed just a little harder, you were sure he could crack your skull like an egg.

His hand grips your jaw until your teeth ache, and he leans close—so close you can smell the rot curling behind his breath. It's the same stench that clung to the car, that filled your lungs while you wept against faux leather seats. The same scent that had soaked into your bones, that had made into a thing instead of a girl. "Immer noch so süß,” he croons, almost lovingly, before releasing your face with a shove. You crumple backward, trembling with shock and old, cellular revulsion. The rusted crucifix rolls from your fingers, forgotten. You don’t reach for it.

You know better now.

You flinch when his clawed hand snakes down—not toward your throat, as you'd braced for—but lower. Down the slope of your hip, over the curve of your thigh, lingering. “I can smell it on you,” he purrs, crouching between your legs. “The Schande, the hate. You think this body's dirty, Ja?"

You don’t answer. You don’t have to. Your body gives you away.

He laughs. It bubbles up from his chest like magma and smoulders behind his teeth. With a sudden jerk, he rips the fabric of your pants and underwear apart with his claws, leaving you bare and trembling on the altar floor. You instinctively try to close your legs, but he’s already separating them, shoulders wide, wings unfurled, hands pinning your thighs apart. “Ah-ah-ah,” he tuts, mockingly. “Don’t be shy now.” You sob, “"P-Please—don’t—"

“Didn’t I already?” Then his mouth descends, dragging hot breath across your inner thigh. His serpentine tongue slides out, wet and glistening, each fork tip twitching with independent hunger. He drags it up the inside of your leg—dangerously close to your slit—tasting the saltiness of your sweat, the bitterness of your urine. You jolt. The sensation is unspeakably wrong. Wet, hot, invasive. You feel everything. Every split flick of his tongue, every hellish sweep that refuses to be gentle. It skims against your clit and you gasp in response.

You hate it.

You hate yourself for the way your skin begins to buzz, for the way your stomach tightens. You sob again, and his tongue presses against your entrance. You feel it split you. Each fork parting your soft lips, dragging obscene circles over parts of you you’ve long tried to pretend don’t exist. Places that have felt like festering, pus-filled wounds since that day. His tongue moves like a creature with its own mind—exploring, taunting, forcing you to feel. You’ve spent years dissociating from this body.

Now he’s dragging you back into it. His tongue forces its way deeper, both ends writhing as it burrows into you. The wet muscle twists and your back arches violently. You scream, pushing both hands against his head, trying to shove him away, to dislodge the horror writhing inside you. His claws sink into the meat of thighs, keeping them spread wide, keeping you pinned like an insect. And still, his tongue delves deeper—too deep—until it presses against something you’ve never felt touched before. A pressure so wrong it knocks the wind from your lungs. He finds your cervix—and flicks against it.

You convulse. It feels like being stabbed from the inside, like a parasite wriggling its way into your core. The slick, muscular tips coil and prod, as if they're tasting your soul through the soft, trembling mouth of your womb. You choke on a mouthful of spittle, trying to twist away, but it only encourages him. He growls low against your cunt, tongue lashing inside you like a living flame. He is slick and relentless, forcing the shy, delicate opening to stretch, to give. The forks flutter torturously along the ridges of your cervical canal, nudging deeper until it feels like something inside you is unspooling nerve by nerve.

A fresh scream rips from your throat.

“Stop—God, please stop—I can’t—I can’t—” But there is no mercy in him. No divinity left in this place. You squeeze your eyes shut to shield yourself from the horror slithering between your legs.

Every nerve in your pelvis lights up like fire. You gag on your own breath, your spine arching hard enough to snap. It feels like your body is trying to turn itself inside out just to escape him. When he pulls his tongue from you, it's in one slow, obscene drag—the forked tips dragging slick, pulsing heat along your inner walls on the way out. You’re left gaping, empty, wet with spit and arousal. Your hips drop back to the floor, legs still trembling in their forced spread. You suck in a breath, just one—before he grabs your jaw and shoves his mouth over yours. His teeth are huge, jagged, they grind against yours, blunt enamel cracking against sharp points as his mouth opens far too wide. Still warm from your cunt, his tongue snakes past your lips, your teeth, the back of your throat. You choke, spit bubbling from your nostrils as it slithers deep, tasting, invading. You try to claw at him, to push him away, but he grabs your wrists in one massive hand and pins them to your chest. You taste blood—your lip, or his, you don’t know—but it floods your mouth all the same.

You can’t breathe.

You can’t think. Your eyes roll as the wet bulk of his tongue pulses in your esophagus, pressing against your windpipe like it wants to taste the air you’re no longer allowed. His breath is like fire in your nose and all you can do is choke around the fleshy gag.

His mouth peels from yours with a wet pop, saliva and blood stringing between your teeth. You heave in a desperate breath and immediately bawl it out. He looms over you, panting now—not from exertion, but from thrill. His eyes lower, settling on your legs. They twitch involuntarily under his gaze, still stinging with pain from where his claws had braced you. "Scheiße," he breathes, licking the corner of his mouth where his blood still clings. “I've missed this.” Your head falls, and you see them—four deep trenches carved into each thigh, blood pulsing freely, spilling down your legs in arterial waves. Yellow adipose glistens from the wounds, bulging where your flesh has been torn apart.

“Oh my God,” you rasp. “This isn’t real—this can’t be real—”

Your elbows dig into the blood-slick stone as you try to crawl backward, pain flaring in your thighs and hips with each pull. You don’t make it far before he jolts forward and drags you down with bone-grinding force.

He snarls like a dog driven mad with hunger. His palms splay over your inner thighs, grinding the bone beneath his weight until something in your hips pops with a horrible, wet crack. You howl—a sound rawer than anything you've ever made—as your joints buckle under the pressure. The sound sends lightning through your nerves, and suddenly, you can’t move. You can’t run. One leg spasms feebly; the other flops useless, detached from your command. You thrash weakly as he kneels before you, your scream splintering into broken cries, your terror animal and absolute. “You’re so loud, Liebling,” he coos, his voice dripping with adoration. "I used to wonder what you'd sound like if you screamed for real.” His thumb brushes your cheek, collecting a string of mucus and tears. "Deine Schreie klingen süßer, als ich es mir je erträumt habe.” You feel then, a pulsing heat against your crotch. It rises with each ragged he takes, sliding stickily along your skin. Your expression twists into something between disgust, fear, and dreadful knowing, your lips trembling as you glance down. It's monstrous, inhuman. Thick and veined, his shaft throbs with an unnatural life, its blackened skin glowing from within. The head head drags wetly, drooling precum onto the curve of your stomach. It twitches when you cry. Even semi-soft, it looks too large—like something no living body should take. You shake your head, choking on your own breath. “No—please, no, no, you’ll kill me—” His laugh is low and full of teeth. "But isn't that what you were made for?" You go still. The sob catches in your throat and stays there. Because this is it. The moment that ruined you the first time, returned to finish what it started. You were never free. He was always there—in the silence of every failed relationship, every broken reflection, and sleepless night. He lived in the tremble of your hands, in your fear of being touched. It always came back to him. He grips himself at the base and drags the tip along your trembling entrance. Your whole body lurches as the heat of it touches you. His other hand finds your belly, pressing you down, flattening you against the stone. You can’t move. Not with your hips cracked out of place. Not with the weight of him anchoring you like a grave. When the head breaches your entrance, the scream that rips from your lungs doesn’t even sound human. It’s primal. Ugly. Utterly hopeless. The pain is white-hot and blinding. You feel your body tear around him—skin splitting, muscles straining, an old wound reopening from the inside. Your mind tries to escape the flesh, but he yanks it back down with every thrust. He throws his head back in a long, drawn-out moan. “Ahhh..."

His hips slam forward, driving deeper, and your vision blacks out at the edges.

“Still as tight as I remember," he breathes. Your mind lifts, floats, untethers from the sound rising in your throat. You stare past the black twist of horns crowning his skull, past the blood-fog and candlelight, and fixate on the ceiling overhead. It’s rotted now—moss eats through the wood of once-sacred beams—but you remember how it looked once. How you sat in the pews below with your mother, your legs swinging off the edge of the bench, your eyes turned upward in wonder. “How'd they build that?” you had asked, voice hushed in awe. And she whispered, “With love. And faith. Always.” But now there’s nothing left of that little girl. Nothing left of that sanctuary. The demon is panting harder, drooling above you, his claws twitching against your hips. You feel the pads of his fingers twitch, flex, and curl. The claw tips press into your skin of your stomach—then through it. He pierces smoothly through the tender skin as if you are made of butter. There's no resistance, only the sick, wet sound of muscle parting. Your eyes go wide. He rips upward, dragging the points through your abdomen until your belly opens like a flower—glistening red and steaming in the bleeding candlelight. You feel your insides spill against his hands. Your stomach folds open, intestines bulging out like knotted ropes. Blood pools under your back, flowing over the altar floor in sticky, sacrilegious ribbons. He cups your viscera in his claws like he’s holding something sacred. Something beautiful. And he doesn’t stop fucking you. "Look at you,” he breathes, eyes alight, lips stretched wide over his teeth. “So much prettier on the inside.”

The wet sounds continue—slower now, as he moves through the mess he’s made of you, dragging out every last moment. Your hand lifts on instinct, reaching towards your organs as if to hold them in. As if you can keep this body yours a moment longer.

You can’t.

A chill blooms in your fingertips. Then your toes. Then it rushes in all at once, like black water in your lungs.

You look up at him. Your mouth opens. Blood bubbles on your tongue. “I d-don’t... want to die—”

He leans close, presses his forehead to yours.

“You already did, Mädchen. This is just... the part where you realize it.”

Your body gives out. Your vision splinters. And in the very last moment—when all of you is coming undone—

You feel something warm flood deep inside you.

It’s not pain anymore. Not even fear.

Just quiet.

And for a moment—

You’re free.

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Tim Drake: Ugly Duckling (dp x dc)

So this is the last day of pride month, and so also the last day of me trying to write as many LGBTQ+ canon dc characters. It’s been fun (and I got to read a whole bunch of comics which was actually much more fun than the first time I’d tried to read those!!)

Now even though this is the end of June, feel free to send an ask if you want me to write a blurb with any character. I make no promises, but I will very much try! (It might take a while especially if I’m in a Tumblr hibernation phase.)

Anyways, for the last day of pride month I wanted to do Tim Drake coz he’s dc’s “it girl” with the gays. I’ve been working on this Dead Tired fic for ages, based on the post about Tim getting turned into a swan and meeting Danny, who as a prince has to give him a kiss to change him back (I can’t find the prompt but it was hilarious so this was my take on it).

Here’s the beginning of the fic:

Red Robin was on patrol duty, while Batman and Robin were following a lead on possible joker safehouses. All in all, It was a pretty quiet night with only two muggings, both low-energy as both perpetrator ran away as soon as a bat-shaped shadow moved. 

So Red Robin had spent most of the night chatting with Babs. He was grappling around town, as they started on the new date app they’d both found out Jason was using.

“I told him he can’t put only photos of his motorcycle but- wait I’m getting a call,” Oracle interrupted herself. Tim waited before the earpiece came to life again.

“Sorry to cut this short Red Robin, got a full-attention request from Canary. If you need anything, beep me, and Keep your coms open.”

“Bye, Oracle,” he said, and like that, Red Robin was alone once again.

 He stopped on Grand Avenue Station and just let himself take in Gotham. The city was beautiful at night, and Tim was itching for a camera. He seen hundreds of pictures of the city’s skyline but they always managed to be unique. The night sky may always be covered by dark clouds above, but Gotham had its own stars in the lights shinning on top of the skyscrapers. So lost in his thoughts, Tim was, he almost missed the soft noise that sounded behind him. The voice that sounded behind him was harder to miss.

“Wither away so late, Little Red Bird?”

Red Robin turned to see a tall woman standing half in the shadows

“Sorry, can I help you?” Answered the vigilante despite the bad feeling creeping up to him.

“I’d like to know where I can find your guardian,” the woman said, still in the shadows.

“You mean Batman?” He chanced.

The woman nodded and Tim resisted the urge to sigh.If this was another one of Bruce’s ill-advised fling, Tim was going to hack every electronic device the man had to play sex-eds on loops for at least a week.

“He’s busy at the moment.” Then feeling like he shouldn’t assume what the woman wanted Bruce for, he continued. “But if you need any help, I’ll do my best.”

The woman stepped forward, and Tim could see her better. Her face was bare, but her distinctive outfit seemed to indicate she was some kind of vigilante-slash-criminal. The outfit did, in fact, ring a bell in the back of his mind, but it was dim. Tim didn’t tense up, but he did angle his body in a way to accommodate for a better escape through grappling. She continued walking until she was within arm’s reach of Tim, towering over him. She extended a hand to lightly caress his cheek, and Tim went still at the touch.

“Such a kind Little Bird you are,” she said gently. “You know, you remind me of my daughter.” She sighed. “Oh, what pretty children you both are.”

“Thank you,” said Tim as he sidestepped out of the way. “I’m sure she’s a lovely person.”

“Oh she was,” the woman said and through his growing wariness, Tim spared a thought for the girl. “She had dark hair and the fairest skin, just like you. The most beautiful girl in the land some would even say.”

That niggling feeling came back as a feeling of familiarity poked at him once again. “You must’ve been very proud.”

The woman let out an airy laugh before saying playfully/contemplating. “mustn’t I?”

A shiver ran down his back. Alright, there was something wrong with this woman, and Tim wasn’t waiting around to find out what. Not without any information or backup.

“Well, if there’s nothing I can do for you, I really have to get going,” Tim said as he took out his grapple gun. In a second, the gun was ripped from his hand , and he was slammed to the side of the staircase leading up to the roof. He let out a gasp at the impact and his features tensed in pain. The woman hadn’t even touched him.

“Not so fast, Little Bird. We don’t want you going back to the Batman just yet.  I’m not ready to make him my Knight yet.”

“Your knight?” Tim managed to get out. He tried to move his arms, but some unseen force was pinning him in place. Shit, that meant he couldn’t reach the comm to send out a distress signal. Hopefully Babs would check in soon.

The woman smiled as she approached him once again. “What better for a Queen, than a Dark Knight?”

And just like that it clicked. “You’re the Queen of Fables.” 

“Well look at this, you’ve got the brains and the beauty,” she teased, her voice as smooth as honey.

“What do you want with Batman?” Tim asked though he could guess from previous encounters she had had with the Justice League that the villainess wanted to turn Bruce into a fairytale character of some sort. She’d done the trick on Clark, and twice on Diana, so it was probably Batman’s turn now. So, yes, Tim could guess, But the longer he kept her talking the more time he had to figure out a way out of this.

“I told you, he’ll be a Knight of the Queen,” She extended a hand and tilted Tim’s face up. “Do you know what that would make you Little Bird?” 

Most villains assumed the batclan worked like a crime family. So the family of a knight? “Nobility,” Tim guessed, unsure where this was going.

“Exactly.” She smiled, and then she moved. Tim braced for the hit.

Instead of a punch though, he only felt a tingling sensation. Cautiously, he opened his eyes, only for them to grow bigger as he took in his uniform. Or the lack thereof.

He was in something-century clothing, in some sort of frilly shirt and pants, all in white. This was worse than a punch. Then, as the thought hit him, Tim’s hands flew to his face only to come in contact with the silky fabric of a masquerade mask. He sighed in relief, and as he calmed down, he realized he was now free of the force pinning him down.

“The color is for my daughter,” the Queen said. Then, she let her head fall to the side before tracing a line across his forehead and Tim could feel something like a circlet setting down on it. “There you go. Now, it’s perfect. You could practically be siblings.” 

“No thanks.,” Tim answered.

The Queen tsked him. “That’s no way to behave Little Bird, has nobody taught you to say thank you when you receive a gift.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” Tim disagreed mildly as he took stock of his weapons. Everything was gone, including the earpiece, which meant Babs had to have been alerted and someone was en route.

The Queen frowned. “I was going to be merciful, for you guardian’s sake, but I no longer feel generous.” She raised her hand and Tim tried to roll away, but the magic beam swerved and hit him in a blinding flash of light.

When he managed to open his eyes once again, the world seemed quite a bit bigger than it had been moments before. 

“What did you do to me?” He said. Or tried to say.

Instead a strange squawk echoed and Tim took a step back in surprise. However, he lost his balance and started to fall and as he tried to catch himself with his hand, two large white wings unfolded. He dropped down, which wasn’t as far as he would’ve estimated and laid stiff. He moved his left arm, and a white wing followed suit. 

Oh, no. Oh no no no.

A grating laugh interrupted his freak out. “There you are my pretty Little Bird, all better. White really is your colour, don’t you th-“

With a loud hiss, Tim propelled himself towards the woman. Making use of his newfound beak, he pecked and bit everything he could, as he flapped his wings.

“Blasted creature- Get off! Stop it, you despicable, puny-“ 

Finally she managed to grab Tim and throw him away from her. He landed with a squawk, but managed to get himself back to his feet quickly. “You little/awful brat,” she snarled. “You’ll pay for this!”

But as the Queen threw out her hand, something rippled in the air between them and the magic beam seem to explode midway into a green vortex. Tim’s clumsy attempt at waddling away had him head straight towards it, and it was in vain that he tried to redirect the course. She and Tim made eye contact as the swan-boy tipped right into the swirling green vortex, both of their eyes wide-open in surprise.

Danny was exhausted. He was currently on week one of the full month of Royal Duties he’d promised Clockwork. Being Prince of the Infinite Realm was not all that it was cracked up to be, and that was saying a lot since he had already been expecting it to be awful. 

When Clockwork had made the request, Danny had proceeded to freak out about his new status, and then tried to abdicate. It was only the master of time reminding him of all the terrible possible candidate for the throne per rites of combat (such as Vlad) that stopped him from washing his hands of this mess. And now Danny was forced to spend one whole month of his summer vacation in the Ghost Zone to fulfill his duty as a Prince. 

He thought it would be some paperwork, maybe a battle or two, nothing too bad, but nooo. Because, of course nothing was easy, Danny had to show up at Events, and be Diplomatic. It was meeting, after meeting, after weird parties that were a mix between Medieval Banquets and Debutante balls. 

And worse of all were the marriage proposals. Danny could sorta understand, marrying into royalty was a definite plus for a lot of more powerful ghosts but when they called him a half-breed behind his back, only to smile in his face with a marriage contract in one hand and flowers in the other, that was where he drew the line. 

Plus there was also the fact that he was, like sixteen.

Suffice to say, Danny was exhausted and hiding out in Pariah Dark’s old castle as a last resort. It wasn’t his favorite place all in all, but the gardens were absolutely beautiful, which was where he was walking. He was currently headed to the hedge maze, since it was the best way to get rid of any tails he may or may not have. 

The maze was nasty if it didn’t like you, and it didn’t like anybody but Danny, and even then, it still tried to take a bite every once in a while. Despite the snaking vines and roots trying to capture anything that moved, the flowers that wailed softly when disturbed or the sharp thorns of the hedge plants themselves, it was still a beautiful place. Uniquely, the closer you got to the centre, the more colorful (and dangerous) everything got, which was why he liked it best. 

He reached the centre much quicker than the first time he tried, thanks to the maze actually helping him, and something pale caught his eye right in the middle of the open area, right next to the bench Danny loved to use. As he got closer, he realized it was a swan laying on the floor, seemingly unconscious.

“Oh no,” Danny said as he approached. “What happened to you?”

As if awakened by the sound of his voice, the swan started to shift, its wings twitching and it rose its head groggily. As soon as it clocked in Danny, it let out a surprised squawk, followed by a long hiss as it struggled to move away.

“Hey, hey, none of that, Duckie, you’re ok.” Danny raised his hands placatingly. “I don’t want to harm you, ok? I just want to make sure you’re ok.”

The hiss subsided by a bit, but that may have only be due to the swan managing to get further away.

“Sh, sh, it’s ok,” Danny repeated as he slowly inched forward. The swan stopped hissing but still observed him warily. “I don’t want to hurt you Duckie, but I do think we’d better get you out of this maze.”

Danny took another step, and this time the swan stayed still. “How about bringing you back to my rooms just for now.” The swan hissed louder at the statement. “Don’t worry Duckie, I’m not keeping you prisoner it’s just this maze has been known to eat people. And you’re too pretty to be eaten,” Danny flashed a smile at the swan which had it stare back with a gaze saying really?

“So what do you say, wanna crash at my place?” Danny asked. The swan didn’t move forward but he didn’t move away either.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t trust a guy who talks to birds either,” Danny allowed. “And the place where I’m staying is a little gloomy, so I don’t blame you, but I can’t leave you here. The maze is honestly really dangerous, especially for a nice bird is like you. “

The swan seemed to hesitate before it hesitantly made its way to Danny. Ghost animals were usually smart but the swan seemed to understand English, which made communicating that much easier. Danny smiled and opened his arms. “I can carry you.” The swan just looked at him, with what Danny would’ve thought was a deadpan stare. “It would go much faster.”

If the swan was human it probably would’ve sighed, but instead, its wings just fell a little before it waddled towards Danny and looked up as if to say ‘get on with it’.

Danny smiled and gathered the animal in his arms. “Buckle up,” he said before flying off towards the maze exit, which was accompanied by a low hiss. Making sure there was nobody there to ambush him, Danny made it back to the castle in record time.

“Here we are Duckie.” Danny set the swan back down and it plopped down on the ground and just steadied themselves for a while.

Tim was a swan. He had wings and no fingers, and his feet were webbed.

He was handling it though. By which Tim meant he was shelving the impending panic attack for later when he wasn’t stuck in a swan body. 

Ok, so he’d been turned by the Queen of Fables, so there had to be an answer in a fairytale,a way to make him normal again. He knew the ugly duckling story. That had a swan in it, right? He didnt know any other swan stories, except maybe as a dish during the wedding banquet of whichever princess. He vaguely remembered a Barbie movie that had passed on the TV when he was younger but the only thing that came to mind were a scary-looking Troll thing, and ballet.  So with lack of better alternatives he was going to go with the ugly duckling. The ugly duckling’s happy ending was reuniting with family, so maybe all he needed was to make his way back to Gotham.

“Are you ok?” 

And that was another thing. The guy. The one Tim had at first wanted to get away from. He seemed nice and all, but he also had neon green eyes, and fangs. Unfortunately, while they suited the boy very well, they also marked him as an unknown. 

On the other hand, if the glowing portal wasn’t enough of an indication, the green tinge of everything around was clear indicator that Tim wasn’t in Kansas anymore. The guy seemed to want to help him, and having an ally wherever he was could only help.

Tim nodded as best as he could with his long weird neck, and he had to take a few steps to regain balance.

“That’s good,” the boy smiled with his white pointy canine. “How did you end up in the middle of that maze?”

Tim just looks back tiredly. He didn’t know how to even try and explain when he couldn’t say a word and had no opposable thumbs.

“Yeah, sorry.” The boy winced. “Maybe stick to yes or no questions.”

There was a sharp knock at the door that had the boy turning away.

“Prince Phantom!” A voice rung through the door.

Prince? 

The newly-dubbed Prince Phantom got up to open the door, “yes, what can I do for you?”

“Your meeting with Queen Dora is approaching. Do you still prefer to forgo an escort guards?” a purple lady was saying.

“I’ll be fine without, Maj but thank you very much,” Phantom answered with a polite smile.

“I’ll pass it along, my Prince.” She bowed and closed the doors behind her.

Phantom walked back to lay on the bed with a sigh. “I really hate that they call me that.” He turned towards Tim to continue. “I bet swans don’t have royalty. You guys had the right idea.”

[raemirs]

What is special about SifLoop to you?

OH BOY WHAT A LOADED QUESTION!!! to be honest if i explained everything we would be here for 2 weeks and also that's a lot of spoons that i dont have so. i will offer a heavily, HEAVILY abridged bullet pointed version.

-oh, that one person who will understand you more than anyone else in the world. that person who is always on the same wavelength as you, who understands why you do all the things you do, who you never have to explain anything to, who you can simply look in the eyes and have telepathic conversations with... they are that person, to each other <3 on virtue of being the same person, but still! i have always been a sucker for this type of dynamic due to being socially ostracized as a ND child growing up. i yearned for the longest time to find that one person who i didnt have to explain or hide any of my strange quirks from (i have since found that one person for me, and boy it is sweet!) and i think it's awesome that sifloop can be that person for each other :)

-sifloop as an allegory for self love is not something i explore too often (which is a crime!!! i should explore it more!!!!), but ohhhhh, is it juiiiicy. these goobers deserve to love themselves, but if they can't bring themselves to do it for now, loving the other is a good first step. one of my all-time favorite sifloop fanfics, simple as existing (please please PLEASE read it, it's soooo good) has most of the things i love about this interpretation of sifloop! aghhh... loop taking care of siffrin's body because it was once theirs... ughhghhhhhhhhhhhh im normal im so normal im normal

-you can take sifloop in so many interesting angles! do they love each other in an actual romantic way? is it some form of fucked up self love? does it no longer count as selfcest because they've undergone such different life-altering experiences? is it such a deep emotional bond that it transcends mere romance or platonic love and cannot be described with words? well, no need to fear, because you get to pick! and the dynamic will be guaranteed to be juicy anyhow <3

-mashing the above two bullet points together creates one of my favorite interpretations of sifloop i've seen yet! something something an annoying trait present in yourself becomes endearing when present in someone else you love. something something by learning to love the traits they hate in themselves in the other, sifloop can begin to learn how to love themselves again. by loving the other, they can start to heal. im normal im normal im normal

-as a touch-starved little freak myself i love love love how sifloop are both touch-starved to hell and back because!! they can fix this with each other!!!! make those fuckers hang off each other like wet clothes!!! they will never let go of each other ever again!!! at every possible scenario they will be at least holding hands or something more!!! both of them want so so much touch and they can give this to each other in precisely the way they want!! it's so fucking good!!!

on the flip side, you can take sifloop's craving for touch in an angsty direction as well! again, love how you can take sifloop's dynamics in so many ways and have all of them be just as compelling and correct. i explore this angstier direction in another post of mine <3

-siffrin is really easy and fun to draw and loop being siffrin means i can turn them human and then boom i get to make cute ship art while drawing the little guy i love twice. what a steal! (i've also recently figured out loop's star form and it is quite fun to draw as well hehehe)

-i'm sure there's WAYYYY more i've missed talking about, this is just the stuff that's come to mind first. as you can tell by this short and abridged summary (/sar) of why i love sifloop, i have a normal amount of thoughts about them <3 here's to many more moons of being insane about sifloop!

[bennyboyfics]

What’s on my phone || Ben Shelton x gf!reader

Summary: as the title suggests, Ben participating in the what’s on my phone interview :)

Wc: 1,788

Warnings: not proofread

MASTERLIST

-

The camera crew is bustling around, adjusting the lighting and checking sound levels as Ben lounges comfortably in a chair, his phone in hand. There’s an easy grin on his face as he leans back, stretching his legs out in front of him. The ATP Tour’s What’s on My Phone? segment is a fan favourite, and Ben knows the drill—unlock his phone, reveal a little too much, and probably get roasted for it.

“I’m Ben Shelton and this is What’s on My Phone?”Ben chuckles, dimples flashing. “Alright, let’s do this.” The screen behind him mirrors his phone in real-time, and the moment he turns on his phone, the lock screen is revealed—prompting an immediate reaction from the crew. A few awws and some teasing whistles fill the room, making Ben shake his head with a laugh.

On his screen is a photo of you. It’s not just any photo—it’s a candid his photographer took during one of his matches, when you were sitting courtside wearing a cap and one of his oversized hoodies, completely caught up in the game. You weren’t even looking at the camera, just watching him, biting your lip in concentration like you were the one playing.

The way the sunlight hit your face, the way your expression softened ever so slightly—it was a moment he knew he wanted to keep with him. Ben rubs the back of his neck, feigning nonchalance. “Yeah, uh… that’s my girl.” His voice is warm, casual, but there’s something deeper in it—an unmistakable fondness.

“She’s kinda my good luck charm, so…” He shrugs, like it’s obvious, like there’s no other option but for you to be the face he sees every time he picks up his phone. He swipes up to unlock it, bringing up his home screen—an organised but slightly chaotic layout, with notifications from Instagram, Twitter, and iMessage sitting unread.

“Alright, first question—what’s your most used app?” Ben hums, opening his screen time stats. “Probably Instagram,” he admits, tapping into the app. And that’s when the real fun begins. Because the second his feed loads, it completely betrays him. The algorithm doesn’t lie. His entire recommended feed is flooded with you.

There are fan edits, paparazzi shots, even a few tagged posts from your fan accounts. One video is a slow-motion montage of you in the players lounge ar Miami open, your arm looped through his, smiling at him like he hung the moon. Another is a courtside clip of you watching his match, your expression unreadable—until he wins a point, and you break into the proudest smile.

Ben lets out a laugh, rubbing a hand down his face. “Man, y’all are really gonna do me like this?” he teases. “Okay, yeah, I look at her fan pages. So what? Y’all are fast with the edits, too. Some of these are from, like, yesterday.” The producer laughs from off-camera. “Do you have a favourite post you’ve seen recently?”

Ben scrolls for a second, then pauses on a familiar photo. It’s a candid someone took of you standing up mid-match, clapping after a particularly good point. You’re wearing one of his hoodies—again—this time layered over a tennis skirt, your expression a mix of excitement and relief.

“This one,” he says, holding his phone up to the camera. “She swears she’s not a sports person, but she’ll be up yelling at the umpire if they make a bad call.” The crew chuckles, and Ben smiles down at the image before backing out of the app. “Alright, next question—what’s the last photo in your camera roll?”

He taps into his photos, scrolling to the most recent one, and his lips curve into a grin. “Oh, this is good.” He turns the screen toward the camera. It’s a blurry selfie from the night before—you kissing his cheek while he laughs, his dimples deep and his face slightly flushed. There’s a laziness to it, the kind of picture taken when neither of you cared about the angle, just capturing a moment.

Ben chuckles. “I think she was making fun of me for something, but I don’t remember what.” He pauses, eyes narrowing slightly. “Probably for losing at Mario Kart. She swears she’s better than me.” The producer smirks. “Is she?” Ben scoffs. “Absolutely not.” Ben shifts in his seat, rolling his shoulders as he exits out of Instagram.

“Alright, what’s next?” The producer smiles, glancing at the list of questions. “What’s your most used emoji?” Ben doesn’t even have to think. He swipes down to his recently used emojis, and right at the top—unsurprisingly—is the red heart. He tilts the screen toward the camera, raising an eyebrow.“Yeah, it’s the heart,” he confirms, smirking slightly.

“Not shocking, I know.” Someone off-camera chuckles. “Who gets the most heart emojis from you?” Ben grins, already knowing the answer. “Oh, definitely her,” he says without hesitation, referring to you. “I’m a heart emoji kinda guy. She’ll text me something random, and I’ll just respond with like, three of these.” He taps the red heart for emphasis.

The crew laughs, shaking their heads as the producer moves on. “Alright, next up—what’s the last text you sent?” Ben swipes into his messages, and immediately, your name is pinned at the top. He clicks on your chat, scanning for the most recent message. A soft chuckle escapes him as he reads it. “Oh man,” he mutters, shaking his head.

“Okay, so the last thing I sent was—‘I swear I didn’t forget, don’t be mad.’” There’s a beat of silence before the producer asks, “Forget what?” Ben drags a hand down his face, laughing sheepishly. “She wanted me to call her before I left for practice this morning. And, uh… I kinda forgot,” he admits. “But in my defense, it was early and I was half asleep.”

There’s some playful teasing from the crew, and Ben holds his hands up in surrender. “Look, I remembered eventually! I FaceTimed her as soon as I got to the courts. She answered with the biggest side-eye, too. I was like, ‘Babe, please, I’m sorry,’ and she just—” He mimics a deadpan expression, pursing his lips and crossing his arms.

“Did she forgive you?” someone asks. Ben snorts. “Eventually. But she made me suffer for like, a solid ten minutes first. She just sat there, all quiet, making me work for it.” He shakes his head, grinning. “She’s too good at that, man.” The producer chuckles before moving to the next question. “What’s the last note you wrote in your phone?”

Ben pulls up his Notes app, scrolling through a mix of training reminders, random song lyrics, and half-finished grocery lists before landing on the most recent one. A smile tugs at his lips. “Oh, this one’s cute,” he says, turning his phone slightly to the camera. “It’s just—‘Don’t forget to grab her snacks before the flight.’”

There’s a collective aww from the crew, and Ben shakes his head with a fond chuckle. “Okay, listen, she has very specific snack preferences, alright? Like, if I come home empty-handed, it’s over for me.” The producer laughs. “So, what’s the go-to snack order?” Ben counts on his fingers.

“Sour candy, specifically the extreme kind—like, the ones that make your face pucker. Then, these little mini chocolate croissants she likes, and a very specific brand of iced tea that’s weirdly hard to find.” “Do you ever forget?” Ben scoffs. “Oh, I forgot once. And she gave me the most disappointed look. Like, not angry—just disappointed. Which is way worse.”

He shudders dramatically, making the crew laugh. “So now,” he continues, tapping the note on his phone, “I set reminders. Because I am not going through that again.” He locks his phone, shaking his head as he chuckles. “She’s got me trained, man.” Then comes the final question. “What’s your favourite saved TikTok?”

He taps into his favourites, scrolling past a mix of funny clips, tennis highlights, and a lot of dog videos before landing on the one he’s been waiting for. The second the video thumbnail appears, his smirk deepens. “Oh, this one’s good,” he says, already biting back a laugh as he clicks play.

The familiar beats of Baby by Quality Control and Lil Baby immediately blast through the speakers, and the screen fills with clips of you—from the same tournament where he took home the title. But it’s not just any edit. It’s a thirst trap edit. The producer is laughing. “Does she know about this edit?”

“Oh, she knows,” Ben says, grinning. “She sent it to me before I even saw it.” He watches the final few seconds of the video. Ben locks his phone, shaking his head with a fond chuckle. “Yeah, this is my favourite TikTok right now. No contest.” He looks straight into the camera, smirking. The crew laughs as the interview wraps up, and Ben locks his phone, bringing your smiling face back onto his screen.

His eyes linger on it for a second, his expression softening, before he tucks it into his pocket. “Alright, that’s it for What’s on My Phone?,” the producer says. “Ben, any final words?” “Yeah—babe, if you’re watching this, don’t be mad about the Mario Kart thing.” He smirks. “You got lucky.” The crew laughs as the video cuts to black.

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 17: You're Sorry, Great. Awesome.

You and Joel throw Sarah a birthday party. Things don't go as planned. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 16, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

(I am BEGGING HBO for some flashback scenes this season PLEASE.)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT! Unprotected P in V sex. Fingering. Kind of aggressive sex. Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 7k

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“You gonna come for me?” 

Joel was everywhere, fucking everywhere, deep inside, pressed tight over you, arms looped around beneath you, his breath hot against your ear as he sucked wetly at your neck. All you could do was whimper below him, clawing at his skin as you scrambled to keep him close. 

“There you go,” he said, voice low and quiet and rough. “Fuck, gettin’ so damn tight on me, you’re close baby, lemme feel you.” 

You angled your hips as best you could below him so that every thrust reached deep and every motion worked your clit. 

“Joel,” you breathed, desperate and too close to your climax to care that you sounded pathetic and needy. “You feel so good, fuck, please, please, please…” 

His thrusts grew harder, sloppy, panting breathlessly against your skin. 

“Love makin’ you feel good,” he said, sounding half out of his mind as he did. “Fuck, love makin’ you come, you gotta come for me baby, I need it, c’mon honey, please, fuck, I love, I love…” 

Your orgasm hit you hard, making you cry out, pressing your mouth into Joel’s shoulder to muffle the sound of your pleasure. 

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, his hips stuttering. “That’s right, keep comin’ for me, gonna fill you up, fill you up so fuckin’ good, leave you drippin’ me all damn day, fuck!” 

He pressed deep and you could feel the heavy throb of his orgasm as he spilled into you, his come hot and thick on your most sensitive places inside. The feel of him pressing himself tight against you, clinging to you like you were all he wanted, made you come again around him, this orgasm more subdued as you focused on just how damn good he felt inside you. 

“Holy shit,” he panted, going limp on top of you as both of your orgasms eased.

“Tell me about it,” you said, breathless too, trailing your fingers up and down the broad expanse of his back. 

He laughed a little. 

“Fuck I love startin’ my day that way,” he said, pushing himself up from you and kissing your forehead as he slid out of you, a thick thread of his come and yours connecting your bodies for a moment before he collapsed at your side. 

You waited, as you always did, for him to decide how close the two of you would be after. But he tugged you against him, so your head was on his chest and his arm was around your shoulders, giving you a squeeze. You draped your arm over his broad chest and snuggled closer, breathing in the smell of his skin. You always liked having time like this with Joel but you were extra thankful for it then, the stress of getting ready for Sarah’s birthday pool party easier when you had a few reliable orgasms every day. Now that the day had arrived and you had a list of things that still needed doing, it seemed necessary to soak up that closeness with him while you could get it. 

“Me too,” you said quietly. 

“Speaking of starting the day,” he said and you could hear the smile in his voice. “You ready to have about two dozen tweens crash in on us for the afternoon?” 

You snorted. 

“As I’ll ever be,” you said. “I think we have everything except the cake and a few snacks but we should check again before one of us goes to pick it up.”

“See, logistics like this are why I never did this before,” Joel teased. “So much easier to just show up at a bowling alley or some shit where they do it all for you.” 

“She’s going to have so much fun though,” you smiled a little, remembering going to Party City with Sarah a few weeks before to find things for the party. She’d excitedly picked all the purple butterfly covered decorations and invitations, beaming as she did, her front teeth still a little too big for her face. “You’re going to have cool dad points for months off this.” 

“Fuckin’ better,” he said and you nuzzled closer to him as you laughed and he sighed. “I’m gonna miss this, Goldie girl.” 

“What, starting your day fucking someone?” You teased even though it stung knowing that’s all it was. 

You and Joel had thrown yourselves fully into the friends with benefits arrangement over the last month. You fucked every day, usually before he went to work - when Ellie’s early morning cries got one of you out of bed for at least a few minutes to settle her before returning and getting tangled in each other - and again in the evening when Sarah and Ellie were both asleep and you could take your time - pulling orgasm after orgasm from each other until you passed out, naked and sweaty and slick with come. You loved it. Far more than you should love it, so much that you had to fight to keep from saying it and ruining everything. You’d finally found some way to almost have what you wanted, you weren’t about to wreck it just because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. 

But it was all ending soon, anyway. Anna had a release date from the inpatient program you’d gotten her into and, after talking with her and her doctors, you’d decided that you and Ellie would move into Anna’s house for a while. That meant leaving Joel’s and his bed and the comfort you found inside his space. 

“Don’t act like you’re not gonna miss that, too,” you could hear the roll of his eyes as he spoke. “But I more mean doin’ stuff like throwing this party with you. If you weren’t here, I’d just be stressed about it if I were doing it at all. But you’re here so I can look forward to it and how happy it’s going to make her and I’m going to miss having you here to do that shit with.” 

“I’m not going far,” you said, smiling a little into his chest. “But I get what you mean. Taking care of Ellie was so scary at first but you’re here and now, it’s not. Because I’m doing it with you.” 

Joel trailed his fingers up and down your upper arm and you just lay there with him, feeling his warmth and the softness of his skin and wishing you could find some way to be this close to him all the time. 

“You could just have Anna move in here,” he said and you laughed. “Hey, I’m serious!” 

“I know,” you said. “But no, not the best idea for this stage of recovery, that’s a lot of upheaval when she’s already going to be adjusting to life outside and as a mom. But once I bring Ellie there, Anna’s going to be seeing a therapist daily and if she’s getting overwhelmed, she’s going back in. Who knows, I might be back here before you know it.” 

“Hate that you’re makin’ me be against you showing back up here,” he said, just as the alarm on your phone started to ring. He groaned and you rolled to turn it off but you were only away from him for a moment before he pulled you back with a little yelp. 

“Hey!” You laughed into his chest. “C’mon, we need to get going…” 

“We got time,” he said, his voice husky, his hand skimming over your side, fingers trailing up to your breast. 

“Joel…” you breathed, sounding just as needy as you felt and you tried to avoid the twinge of shame that crept in with that need. 

“C’mon,” he said, tilting your chin so he could kiss you. “Lemme have you again. We got time.” 

His hold on you tightened and so did the knot in your stomach and you knew you couldn’t say no to him. You never could. 

“OK,” you said softly. “We got time.” 

You were both still breathless when Sarah knocked on Joel’s door about 30 minutes later and you turned to muffle the almost maniacal giggle that slipped out of you as she spoke. 

“Hey Dad?” She called to you both. “Can we have pancakes?” 

“Sure thing, baby girl,” he panted. “Just… five minutes.” 

You could practically hear her frown through the door. 

“What are you guys doing in there?” She asked. “You sound weird.” 

“Just… gettin’ ready for the party,” he said and you snorted. He pulled you tight against him so your mouth was pressed tight to his chest. “Be out in a minute.” 

Once the two of you left the quiet privacy of his bedroom, things moved quickly. You bounced and fed Ellie while Joel made breakfast for the three people in the house eating solid food. After you ate, Joel cleaned up while you put Ellie in a baby wrap and worked with Sarah to decorate the living room and the pool. She carefully decided where she wanted the gift table and where the snacks should be, what games should be out, where goodie bags should live, stepping back and considering everything with a serious look on her face that you had to fight to not giggle at. 

“OK,” she said after a while as she surveyed the space and gave a firm nod. “I think it’s perfect.” 

“You picked a good set up, kiddo,” you smiled, not even irritated that you’d swapped the gift table and the snack table’s positions four times. “Everyone’s going to have a great time.” 

“I hope so,” she said, beaming. “I can’t believe I get a pool party! I’m going to go get ready!” 

You and Joel left Sarah at the house to do her hair while the two of you took Ellie to pick up the cake and the last few things you needed at the store. 

Your niece was strapped to your chest and you were halfway down the chip aisle when you ran into Alyssa, the friend at work you’d made at the start of the school year that you hadn’t spoken to in months, too wrapped up in everything with Ellie and Anna and Joel to do anything like maintain a relationship with a coworker. 

“Oh, my God!” She beamed at you, pulling you in for an awkward hug with Ellie to the side. “I haven’t seen you in… shit, months? How’ve you been? Busy, I see!” 

“Yeah,” you laughed a little. “I’ve had my hands full taking care of this one. My sister’s… sick.” 

“Well, she’s an absolute doll!” She smiled broadly, leaning in to Ellie who beamed back at her, smiling her little gummy smile. “Hi there, cutie! Are you keeping your auntie from writing the next great American novel? Are you totally worth it? I think so!” 

“OK I got the cookies, too,” Joel said, coming up behind you and putting his hand on the small of your back, reaching around you to drop the packages in the cart. “Don’t know what kids don’t like fuckin’ cake but…” You cleared your throat as your cheeks got hot, feeling oddly exposed at the idea of having someone see Joel’s casual intimacy with you like this, Joel’s face near yours in a place you might kiss him if the two of you were at home. “Oh. Hi. I’m sorry, have we met?” 

“Yeah, hi,” she smiled, straightening and looking Joel up and down in that way she had. “I’m Alyssa, we ran into each other when you came by campus toward the start of the school year. Good to see you again! It looks like you two have gotten…” 

“Oh, no,” you laughed quickly, eyes darting to Joel, hoping he wasn’t panicking at the concept of being with you. “No, no, we’re… he’s been helping with Ellie here, he has a daughter so…” 

“Yeah, I’ve just done it all before,” he said, an odd twinge in his voice. “Don’t mind helpin’ out.” 

“That’s so nice of you,” Alyssa said, still watching Joel closely. “God, there’s just something about a man who’s good with kids…” 

“We are in high demand,” Joel said, a new flirtatious edge to his tone that made your stomach get tight. “Sorry to pull this one away but, speaking of kids, we got a birthday party to get back and finish settin’ up for…” 

“Oh, of course,” she smiled, waving him off. “Sorry, I don’t want to keep the two of you on a Saturday! But… you know, if you two aren’t…” 

“We’re not,” you said, probably too harshly, not able to look at Joel as you said it. 

“Then maybe we could have a drink sometime,” she said, as though you hadn’t spoken. “She’s got my number, if you’re interested.” 

“Uh,” Joel said and you forced yourself to glance his way, his hand still on the small of your back. “Yeah, alright, I’ll… I’ll let you know.” 

“Looking forward to it,” she winked before looking back to Ellie. “Goodbye, sweet girl!” And then she looked to you. “So good to see you!” 

“Yeah,” you forced a smile. “You, too.” 

You watched her go before turning back to Joel. 

“Sorry, that was…” you searched for the word. “Awkward.” 

“Yeah, think you could have denied that a little harder,” he said wryly and you glared at him. “What? Don’t think I’m that embarrassing.” 

“You know you’re not embarrassing,” you rolled your eyes. “I just… don’t want to tie you down.” 

“You don’t tie me down,” he said. 

“That’s sweet,” you said, grabbing the biggest bag of Doritos and adding them to the cart. “But… you know, the lists did include helping each other find a stable relationship and -” you looked around quickly, lowering your voice as you did “- we both know that friends with benefits is not that.” 

“So you’re gonna set me up with your friend?” He asked, sounding almost annoyed. 

You frowned. 

“What, are you going to pretend like she’s not your type?” 

He just looked at you for a moment, his jaw tight. 

“Never mind,” he said. “Let’s just go get the cake.” 

“What?” You asked, following after him as he took over pushing the cart. 

“Nothin’,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“Joel,” you caught up with him. “Is everything…” 

“It’s fine,” he snapped as the two of you got to the bakery counter. “Just drop it, alright? Jesus.” 

“Fine,” you muttered as Ellie started to fuss against you. “Dropped.” 

But you didn’t want to drop it. You tried to find a way to bring it up again but Joel was still surly on the drive back to the house, his mouth still in a thin line as he carried things in from the car. 

“Are you really going to be like this all day?” You asked quietly as you set the cake on the table in the living room next to the butterfly themed plates. “Because…” 

“I’m not bein’ like anything,” he said. “I’m fine. I don’t know why you keep askin’.” 

“Because you’ve been acting weird since the chip aisle,” you said. “And Sarah’s been looking forward to this for like two months.” 

“She’s my kid,” he said, defensive. “I know that she’s looking forward to it, alright? And I have not been ‘acting weird.’” He put the words in air quotes. “I’m just stressed about making this party happened, not everything is about you and what your people think, Goldie.” 

You pulled back from him, his words sharp. 

“I’m sorry that my coworker thought we were a couple,” you hissed, keeping your voice low. “We’re not in high school anymore and while you night think anyone would be a better option than me but not everyone is going to just assume that you could never want me!” 

“That’s what you think?” He asked, stepping closer to you, his hands on his hips, his shoulders feeling unreasonably broad. “You think that’s why I’m upset?” 

“Aunt Goldie?” Sarah said, running into the room, a sarong in her arms and wearing the swimsuit you’d helped her pick the week before. “Can you help me put this thing on? I can’t figure it out.” 

“Of course, kiddo,” you said, taking the sarong and giving Joel a look. “Come on, we’ll get it figured out.” 

You left Joel with the snacks and went to help Sarah, trying to shove Alyssa and Joel’s shitty mood out of your mind. 

***

Sarah was happy. 

Joel kept reminding himself of that. 

Sarah. Was. Happy. 

That was the important thing, that’s what mattered, that’s what the two of you had been planning and working on for weeks, throwing Sarah the party she’d been begging him for for years. 

And now it was here, Sarah was happy and he had a grill full of burgers and hot dogs, a backyard full of 25 pre-teens and a handful of parents who’d volunteered to help make sure no one drowned. 

Including the dad of one of the kids in Sarah’s class. One who had a decade on you and Joel and was apparently single and deciding to make that your fucking problem. 

And Joel wasn’t sure how long he was supposed to stand here and watch you flirt with that fucking guy. 

It was bad enough, getting hit on in front of you at the fucking grocery store and watching you rush to dodge any connection you had with him. No, now he also had to deal with this fucking asshole who was - frustratingly - not really an asshole at all. 

Tim was a guy Joel had met a few times, one of the few hands on dads in Sarah’s class. They’d chaperoned a few field trips together and Joel liked the guy. Or he had, anyway. The pair hand bonded over their daughters’ love of Taylor Swift and learning how to do hair and their shared apprehension of the coming teen years. He was good natured, an invested father, a guy he’d have liked to grab a beer with sometime. He’d been meaning to try to get their kids together and see if he could actually, maybe, have a friend outside of you and his brother. 

And then Tim saw you and everything changed.  

Now, Tim was making Joel’s fist clench and his stomach tighten because he was making you laugh. You were in your swimsuit, one that made Joel want to touch every goddamn inch of you, Ellie in your arms in her little sunhat and you were laughing at something Tim was saying, that fucking smile of yours making his heart ache. That fucking smile holding so much promise when it was made for that guy because smiling at him was different than smiling at Joel.

Because, really, how would he measure up to someone like fucking Tim? The guy who actually made good money, who had bothered to go to college, who didn’t need to wait to accidentally knock someone up to get his shit together. And you obviously had a thing for guys who were older, Tim’s graying hair and casual ease making Joel feel at least a little lacking before let alone now. Of course you’d be interested in him over Joel. Why wouldn’t you be? 

“You alright?” Tommy asked, sidling up to Joel by the grill. 

“Fine,” Joel muttered, still watching you. Tim held his arms out and you passed him Ellie before reaching to grab a can of White Claw from the cooler next to you, smiling and cooing at Tim and Ellie as you did. Joel ground his teeth. 

“You sure?” Tommy said. “Because think that burger would disagree.” 

Joel frowned, looking down to find the patty on the corner of the grill smoking, the dripping fat from the meat making the fire flare up below it. 

“Shit,” he swore, quickly sliding the spatula below the burger and moving it away from the flames. 

“That one’s yours,” Tommy teased, taking a sip of his beer and looking out toward the pool. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel said, taking stock of the rest of the grill to make sure nothing else was on fire. 

“Goldie’s lookin’ good,” Tommy said after a moment. 

Joel’s grip on the spatula got tight. 

“Guess so,” he said. “I see her every day so… wouldn’t know.” 

“Oh I think you know,” Tommy said. “Looks like she’s gettin’ awful cozy with that guy over there.” 

“Hadn’t noticed.” 

“Really?” Tommy said, brows raised. “Guess you were… what, starin’ at the fence behind ‘em then?” 

“Fuck off, Tommy.” 

“I’m just sayin’,” he said. “Like to think I know you pretty well seeing as you’re my brother and all. Just calling it like I see it. Calling it like I’ve been seein’ it for 20 years.” 

“Well, you’ve been seeing wrong,” Joel said. 

“Don’t think that’s it,” Tommy said. Joel opened his mouth to argue but Tommy didn’t give him the chance. “Look, if you really want to sit on your ass about it forever, that’s on you. I’m just saying that it sure seems like now is a damn good time to work your shit out with her. Either that or decide to just be a miserable asshole forever because you’re stubborn. No skin off my back.” 

“You, what, think you know everything because you’ve found a woman who will stick around?” Joel snapped, fighting to keep his voice low. “You’ve been in a relationship for five goddamn minutes, don’t sit there and…” 

“Hey guys,” you walked over, smiling, Tim still at your side with Ellie in his arms. “ETA on burgers? Think I should go get all the condiments set out?”

“Not a bad idea,” Joel said, fighting to keep his voice even. 

“Want help?” Tim asked. 

“If you can just keep holding the wriggly one, that would be amazing,” you smiled, touching his arm. His fucking arm. You looked back to Joel. “I’ll get everything set out… Are you OK?” 

“Fine,” he said through clenched teeth. “Why?” 

“If you say so,” you said, turning back to Ellie. “You be good, squrimy wormy.” 

“She’ll be an angel,” Tim smiled. “Don’t even worry about it.” 

Joel and Tim both watched you go inside, Joel struggling not to think about the sway of your hips below the gauzy wrap you’d tied around your middle like a skirt. 

“Kids seem to be having a great time,” Tim said, looking out toward the pool. “I know Lucy’s been talkin’ about nothing else all week. Kid was born in December but I can already tell she’s going to be begging me for a pool party for her birthday all the same.” 

“Glad I was able to pull it off for Sarah,” Joel said, looking determinedly at the grill. 

“Well, you had help,” Tommy said and Joel shot him a glare. He pressed on like nothing had happened. “Sure it’s a lot easier when you’ve got your best friend there pitchin’ in…” 

“Yeah, she was saying you two have been putting this together for a few weeks. If you don’t mind my asking,” Tim said, leaning closer to Joel and angling Ellie away from the heat of the grill. “What’s… what’s goin’ on there? Are you two…” 

“Nope,” Joel cut him off. “Just… we’re just friends.” 

“Cool,” Tim nodded slowly, looking toward the house as you carried plates of burger toppings out to a table covered in a purple tablecloth. “Because damn if she isn’t something.” 

“See, that’s what I’ve been sayin’,” Tommy said, giving Joel a look. Joel just glared back. 

Tim wasn’t looking their way, his eyes glued on you. 

“I still can’t believe she wrote that book,” he said, sounding a little awed. “I still think it’s the best thing I’ve ever read. Must have been a hell of a trip to read that already knowing her.” 

Joel was quiet, just flipping the burgers and taking a drink of beer. 

“What was that like?” Tim asked when Joel had been quiet too long. 

He glanced up at him, the annoyingly perfect fucking image of him holding Ellie while looking like the exact kind of person you’d go for making him hold his beer bottle a little too tight. 

“Wouldn’t know,” Joel said, looking back down at the grill. “Haven’t read it. Don’t read much.” 

“Oh,” Tim said, sounding surprised. “Well, you should. It’s amazing. She’s…” 

“Something,” Joel cut him off, knowing he probably sounded like a dick but not caring enough to stop it. “You said.” 

“Thank you for that,” you said, walking up and wiping crumbs from burger buns on your hands on your swimsuit. “Way easier when I’m not holding an infant but I’ll take her back now. Hi baby girl! Were you so good?” 

“She was a dream,” Tim said, putting Ellie in your arms. “Makin’ me wish I had another one.” 

“It’s the cuteness,” you said, smiling a little before looking down at your niece, letting her wrap her tiny hand around your thumb. You nuzzled into her head and kissed her. “She’s tricky that way.” 

“Might be,” Tim smiled, watching you with the baby. “But still, real hard not to miss it. Wouldn’t mind having another one.” 

“Yeah?” You asked, looking up at him with raised brows, holding Ellie against you. 

“With the right person,” he smiled a little and if Joel had to watch this shit any longer he was sure he was going to break something. 

“Alright, burgers are up!” He yelled toward the pool, ignoring the fact that Tim was standing close enough that he flinched. 

Joel hung back as the kids clambered out of the water until everyone had a burger and you found him, a slight frown on your face. 

“Are you sure you’re OK?” You asked. “Because if this is about earlier at the store…” 

“Don’t they teach you smart college types that doing the same thing over and over don’t get you different results?” He snapped. “Stop asking.” 

“Sorry,” you said, sounding hurt which made Joel’s jaw tighten. “Just try not to miss out on the good shit from today because of… whatever that is.” 

You didn’t wait for him to respond, you just went to find fucking Tim, that hurt look melting off your face when he said something that made you smile in that fucking way you had, where you started slow and then it spread so your whole face shined, the way that Joel loved so much. 

Joel stuck close to Tommy and his new girlfriend, Maria, for the rest of the party, trying to focus on Sarah and how she really was so fucking happy. He tried to ignore you. He tried to ignore the side eye from Tommy and the way you were looking at fucking Tim like he hung the goddamn moon. He tried not to think about the fact that, soon, you and Ellie would be leaving and this semblance of a family that he’d fallen into wouldn’t exist anymore. It would go back to the way it was before, just him and Sarah, and you’d go off and live your own damn life with Tim or someone like him. 

The frustrating thing was, it wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t know what he’d be missing. When it was you and fucking Brad at least, Joel didn’t know any better. He didn’t know how good it could be with you. He didn’t know what he didn’t have. Now it would always be there, hanging over him, covering his memory of this time with this bitter patina that he couldn’t shake. 

Tommy and Maria and fucking Tim stayed after the party wound down and helped clean up, you putting Ellie in her bouncer as you laughed at something he said. Things were back to normal - or close to it, a cake with a purple frosting border only half eaten on the kitchen counter and a few bags of trash by the door waiting to go into the big bin in the garage - in no time at all, something Joel was thankful for because that meant that Tim would probably leave soon. Hopefully. 

“Where did y’all get that cake, anyway?” He asked following you inside as you put a sleeping Ellie in her playpen, Joel just a few steps behind. “It was really good.” 

“H-E-B,” Joel said even though he knew Tim wasn’t asking him. “Nothin’ crazy.” 

“Thanks,” Tim smiled over his shoulder toward Joel before looking back to you. “It was good. Really.” 

“There’s tons of extra,” you said. “Want to take some home? Lord knows I don’t need it and if Sarah eats it all we’ll never see the end of the sugar high.” 

As if to prove a point, Sarah and Lucy, Tim’s daughter, shrieked in glee over something in the back yard. 

“That’d be great,” Tim said. “Sure Lucy’ll enjoy it.” 

“I’ll wrap some up for you,” you smiled, leading the way to the kitchen. 

“Try not to break your jaw clenching it like that, brother,” Tommy clapped him on the shoulder. Joel glared at him. “We’re gonna head out.” 

“You know where to find the door,” Joel said. 

“Know where to find your attitude, too,” he replied. “Try not to screw yourself over here, Joel.” Tommy left before he had a chance to argue, his arm around Maria’s shoulders as he led her to his truck. 

But Joel, for a change, decided to actually take his brother’s advice. He didn’t want to screw himself over. He wasn’t ready to lose this with you, not yet. 

He went to the kitchen to find you standing next to the cake, your body angled toward Tim’s, closer to him than Joel was happy about. 

“So I’ll call you,” he was saying, a crooked smile on his face. 

“Sounds good,” you smiled back, handing him his phone. “It might be a bit, a lot going on right now, but…” 

“I can wait,” he said. “Something about good things coming to those who do…” 

Joel cleared his throat and you almost jumped away from Tim, eyes a little wide, almost like Joel was your dad and you were in trouble. 

“Get what you needed?” Joel asked, brows raised, hands shoved in his pockets. 

“Think so,” Tim said, pocketing his phone and picking up a plate loaded with cake and covered in plastic wrap.”Thanks for having us, it was a great party.” 

“Thanks for comin’,” Joel said, wishing he’d just get through the niceties and get the fuck out of his house. “Know Sarah liked having Lucy here.” 

“Lucy had a great time, too,” he said before turning back to you. “Think we’ll get outta your hair but… talk to you soon?” 

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Looking forward to it.” 

Joel walked Lucy and Tim out to their car, Tim handing his daughter the plate with the cake before turning back to Joel. 

“Look,” he said, all polite pretense gone from his voice. “I feel like I did something in the wrong here and I don’t want to try to steal another man’s girl…” 

“She say we were together?” Joel asked, brows raised. 

“No, but…” 

“Then there you go,” Joel said, a little to harshly. 

“Well then I must have done something else,” Tim said. “If it’s just that you’re protective of your friend, trust me, I meant it when I said she’s somethin’ because she is. I don’t know if it’ll work out but I’m not gonna hurt her.” 

Joel clenched his jaw, trying not to picture someone else touching you the way he did, someone else pulling the little sounds of pleasure from your lips the way he did, loving you the way he did. Just the passing thought made his stomach turn, his blood hot. He wanted to tell Tim to back the fuck off because you belonged with him. But he couldn’t do that. Because it wasn’t true.

“Good to see you,” Joel said instead. “Drive safe.” 

He didn’t wait to see them leave the driveway. Instead, he went to find you. Because maybe you didn’t belong with him, maybe you couldn’t be his in the way he wanted but goddammit if there wasn’t something in him you apparently wanted. You wanted it enough to be his friend, to ask for his help, to fuck him when you didn’t have another option. There was something in him that you thought was worthwhile and there had to be some way to make you remember that.

Joel stalked back inside to find you reorganizing the fridge, Ellie asleep in her playpen in the living room. You glanced his way as you put a plate of leftover burgers back in the fridge. 

“Sarah’s showering,” you said. “But then she wants to open presents and asked if we could watch a movie after, I told her that should be fine but…” 

Joel didn’t give you a chance to finish. Instead, he grabbed you, rougher than he should have but he couldn’t bring himself to care, pulling you away from the fridge with a surprised but quiet yelp as he pressed your back against the wall. He forced his knee between your thighs and pulled your mouth to his as he kissed you, harsh and sharp, devouring you and your needy little sounds. His hand tightened on your chin, holding you still so he could press tongue into your mouth, his other hand grabbing your thigh and hitching it over his leg, opening you to him. 

He shoved the gusset of your swimsuit aside and thrust two fingers inside you, your tight heat wet and welcoming and he didn’t ease his way to that soft, sensitive place deep in you. Instead, he pressed in hard, his palm against your clit before he pulled his mouth from yours, everything wet and messy. 

“Joel,” your eyes were wide, searching his. “What…” 

“You think he can do this to you?” He rutted his cock against your hip. “Think he can make you come like I do?” 

“Sarah’s home,” you whispered, your panting shifting to a moan as he pressed harder on your clit. “Fuck, Joel, you can’t just…” 

“I can hear the shower,” he said harshly. “Answer the question. You think he can make you feel like this?” 

To prove his point, he added another finger, stretching your tightening walls and making you gasp, fingers scrambling against his shoulder as you looked down to the place he was entering you. His own come from the morning was sliding over his skin and he was almost pissed about that, that you’d even look at another man while you were still full of him. 

“I…” you looked back at him, pupils blown, lips shiny with his spit and yours from when he kissed you. “I… I don’t…” 

“Think that fuckin’ guy can fuck you like I can?” He asked. “Think he can make you feel like I do? He can’t and he fuckin’ won’t.” 

You moaned, desperate and uncontrolled and buried your face where Joel’s shoulder met his neck. His cock ached in his swim trunks, leaking and angry and he rutted it against you but he knew he wasn’t going to find relief right now. He didn’t care. 

He felt like a man unhinged, the thought of you with someone else, touching someone else, in bed with someone else, loving someone else pushing him on. He couldn’t give you much, he fucking knew that, but there had to be a reason you’d stayed in his bed the last month and he was going to goddamn well make sure you knew it. 

You came then, your pussy throbbing hard around his fingers as you moaned, voice cracking as you did. He stilled inside you, his hold on you easing so that his palm was more cupping your sex than pressing into it, savoring the feeling of your pleasure on his skin as your come soaked him. Your whole body went limp and he had to hold you up as you panted for breath. He eased his fingers out of you more gently than he’d done anything else since he’d started touching you, carefully tugging your swimsuit back into place over your leaking slit. You whimpered against him, sounding fucked out and exhausted. 

Joel carefully adjusted you, holding your face in his hand, your eyes wide and mouth open as you took shaky, uncertain breaths. 

“What was that?” you asked quietly. 

Joel didn’t know how to answer. 

“You OK?” He asked instead. 

Your eyes raked over him, still wide and shocked, and he lowered your leg back to the ground, giving you a chance to stand on your own again. 

“What do you want from me, Joel?” You whispered. 

“Hey Dad?” Sarah yelled from her room. “Do we have more of that hair stuff?” 

His jaw tightened. 

“Go,” you said, reaching around him to hold onto the counter for balance. 

“We’re talkin’ later,” he said, watching you for a moment before going to help Sarah. 

He did his best to focus on his daughter while she opened her presents from her friends, you smiling and taking notes about who got her what so Sarah could write thank you cards, never once looking at Joel and he had this sinking, raw feeling in his stomach that he might have ruined things, actually ruined things this time. You stayed on the opposite end of the couch from him as the three of you watched the Hunger Games, careful to never even brush against him when you got up to get something. So different from every other time the three of you had sat here, you casually leaning your head on his shoulder or touching his leg to get his attention. 

“Thank you, Dad,” Sarah said as he tucked her into bed - something he was sure she was going to start insisting she was too big for any day now. “That was the best party, everyone had such a good time, it was so fun to see everyone!” 

“I’m glad you had fun, baby girl,” he smiled, smoothing her hair back from her face. “I know you’ve been wanting that for a while.” 

“Yeah, but I know you’re busy,” she said. “It’s OK that it took some time.” 

“Well, I should never be too busy for you,” he said. 

“Probably right,” she said, scrunching her nose. Joel laughed. “I love you, Dad.” 

“Love you, too,” he smiled, reaching to turn out her lamp. 

“Oh, tell Aunt Goldie I love her too?” She said. “I forgot to…” 

His heart clenched. 

“Course baby girl,” he said. “I know she loves you, too.” 

“Duh,” she smiled. “I’m the best.” 

Joel laughed. 

“Don’t let it go to your head.” 

He started back toward the living room to find you but stopped when he saw the light on in his bedroom. He paused at the door, wondering if he should knock even though the two of you hadn’t had that pretense in weeks. 

But he just opened it, moving quietly and closing the door silently behind him, finding you emptying the drawers that had become yours in the months you’d lived in his house. 

“What are you doing?” He asked quietly. 

You looked up, your eyes finding his and narrowing. 

“Goldie…” he moved to touch you but you pulled yourself away before he could. 

“Don’t,” you snapped, packing your things into the suitcase that had been tucked away in the space between Joel’s dresser and the wall for so long he’d almost forgotten it was there. 

“Look, I…” he began but you cut him off. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” You asked, all but throwing some shirts into the suitcase. “What was that!” 

He sighed, not able to look at you for a moment. He wasn’t sure how to answer that. What was he supposed to say? Sorry, the thought of losing you to another man made me lose my mind for a minute? Now that you don’t need as much help with your niece I wanted to remind you of the one other thing you seemed to need me for? 

“I…” he broke off. “I’m sorry.” 

“You’re sorry?” You asked, brows raised. “You’re sorry, great. Awesome. What do you want from me, Joel? Do you want me to never date anyone so you can fuck me when you’re bored? Do you think I’m going to just live here forever so I’ll be at your disposal whenever you need to get off?” 

“That ain’t…” 

“I want to be with someone who loves me!” Your voice was thick, wet. “I want a chance at loving someone and I want them to love me, too, and I can’t do this with you, Joel! I can’t upend my entire life because we’re doing whatever this is, I can’t and I don’t want to.” 

His chest got tight and you just shook your head, going to get more out of the drawer to keep packing. 

“Anna is about to come home,” you said. “I was already going to leave soon. I’ll go tomorrow, spend a few days in my own damn house in my own damn bed and then go to her place.” 

“Goldie,” he whispered, stepping close to you, taking your face in his hand. You at least didn’t pull away from him this time. “Just… stay.” 

Your eyes searched his for a moment and, for half a second, he thought you might say yes. 

“I can’t,” you said softly. “I’m sorry.” 

Joel just hoped you couldn’t see the pain in his eyes as you went back to collecting your things to leave him behind yet again. 

Next Chapter

A/N: I really wish I could explain what came over Joel here but I can't I'm sorry I think he possessed me and this is what happened SORRY

Thank you for being here and for reading. I love you!

Taglist: @kaseyconnour