#Art never stuck around and writing I was always bad at

[37googolplex]

It’s so hard to be exceptional while being normal in a family full of exceptional people . and I really don’t wanna seem like that “smart kid that complains over getting a 98% instead of 100” but those 2 points really matter in the grand scheme of things especially when the 98 is instead an 88 and when I have a pathetic average of Bs and the occasional A and whatever seems so bad compared to my genius family members and it sucks that because of one singular weakness I’ll never be as good as them, when I was raised so well qwith so many more opportunities than them anf yet I still do worse. why? ill never know and it’s making it hard to give it my all

[norikuna]

(JUST MEET ME AT THE) APT! — gojo satoru minors dni. art by chitrartum on twt.

welcome to the christmas tour ! take a seat in section (a) and let the show begin !

prologue. → your ex, that sleazy and no-good scumbag won't stop posting tacky mirror selfies on instagram, arm around his fellow cheater-in-crime. so, christmas eve finds you morose in a dodgy dive bar. why not tumble back into bed with that random, gorgeous stranger you just met?

want to try sitting somewhere else ? take a look at the ticket chart again !

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. never drive, no matter how little alcohol is in you folks!!! never!!! making out, creampiè, hooking up with a stranger, ovèrstimulation, mildly rough sèx, gojo won't tell you what his job is

word count. 9.4k! song inspiration. apt — rosé & bruno mars

a/n. reader lowkey a hater, i love vanilla vodka eggnog </3 i said i was gonna post on 02/12 and i kept my word, literally rushed to finished this before my clinical exams in the cardiac ward 😭😭😭😭😭😭 hope y'all stay healthy. your future surgeons are writing gojo smut on tumblr.com

mp3. don't you want me like i want you, baby? don't you need me like i need you now? sleep tomorrow, but tonight, go crazy. all you gotta do is meet me at the apartment (아파트) !

you think your friends would kill you if they knew this was how you were spending christmas eve. not at some glittering holiday party, nor tucked away in a snow-dusted cabin. but here, holed up in a dimly lit bar with an atmosphere so questionable it should come with a warning label alongside a health and safety audit.

the place had charm, if your definition of charm included scuffed floors, a jukebox stuck on 'last christmas' and a string of blinking lights that looked like they'd been thrown at the walls rather than hung. still, you'd swiped a couple of minty candy canes from a jar near the door, which felt like a win.

your phone sat resolutely off in your bag. self-preservation. no instagram, and no tacky mirror selfies from your scumbag ex with the same smirk he'd worn a month ago when you caught him cheating. with someone who had always been 'just a friend, babe!' you weren't keen to let that ruin the rest of the night, though if you were being honest, you had already let it ruin a good chunk of the month.

"another christmas vodka...sour, please," you squint at the messy chalkboard above the bar, where the christmas specials were scrawled in what would barely pass for handwriting.

the bartender gave a single, surly nod. he looked as though he'd rather be anywhere but here, preferably somewhere free of customers nursing post-breakup bitterness like a fine wine.

and so, you found yourself staring at the tall glass now sitting in front of you, studying the rosemary sprig that swayed lazily in the translucent red liquid. a few cranberries bobbed among the ice cubes like they were on some tiny festive raft.

"woah, that one's way too strong for me."

the voice interrupts your private session of wallowing. you turn your head, slowly, to take in the culprit. he-who-hath-disturbed-the-peace. a man sitting close enough to be annoying, but not close enough to invade your personal space.

it takes you a moment to process the stranger, mostly because of the brain freeze from your ill-timed gulp.

"i mean, it's not bad," you shrug, hoping to sound neutral enough that he leaves you be. but then because you just can't leave well enough alone, you gesture at the specials board, "better than...that, at least."

you jab a finger at the chalk-scrawled abomination: vanilla & peppermint vodka eggnog.

the man frowns, a sharp but somehow charming movement that's overshadowed by the dim lights, "hey, i ordered that one."

you blink like a startled bovine, before breaking into a laugh, "my bad. i'm sure it's really fuckin' delicious."

the stranger chuckles too, a soft and low sound that seems more genuine that it has any right to be, "i hope so. otherwise, this is gonna be a long night."

the man finally shifts, casting aside the dim shadows that lay over him, into the blinking string lights. broad shoulders framed by a dark, tailored jacket that hugs him like a second skin. his hair, startlingly white, was pushed back by — wait, was that a blindfold?

you stare longer than you should have, trying to piece the odd sight together. a cosplay? a k-pop idol wannabe, hoping to get recruited for the next bts tour? perhaps, he was blind, hard of sight? you start to open your mouth, wondering how to phrase the intrusive and awkward questions, but he beats you to it.

"i can see you just fine, y'know," he says, his tone laced with amusement.

your cheeks burn at the realisation that he's caught you gawking shamelessly. so you quickly turn back to your drink, suddenly very interested in the cranberries floating in the glass.

the bartender returns, sliding the stranger's drink onto the counter with an audible clink. it was the most obnoxious cocktail that you'd ever seen. a martini glass filled with frothy, pale liquid and crowned with a cinnamon stick that jutted out like the mast of some ridiculous holiday ship.

you watch, mildly horrified, as the man picks up the glass and downs half of it in one confident gulp. he sets it down a satisfied sigh, and a smack of his glossy lips, and you wrinkle your nose involuntarily at the sight.

"i swear it's good," he says with a laugh, catching your expression. his grin is wide, playful. and you find yourself smiling back despite your sour, gloomy mood.

he has a nice smile, you note. not forced nor smug, but genuine. framed by pale pink lips that curl up in an easy, natural way. it was strange though, to look at someone without seeing their eyes.

"i'm gojo, by the way," he offers, his voice smooth and lightly amused once more, as if he'd caught you studying him again.

your gaze drops to his hands, long and slender, tracing the rim of the martini glass. something about the way they move — elegant and deliberate, hold your attention a moment too long for propriety. you quickly snap your focus back to his face, "what brings you here, gojo?"

gojo shrugs, and you can almost imagine him rolling his eyes beneath the blindfold, though you doubt his ire is directed at you, "work, i guess. or maybe i just got bored of going to work."

"they're working you hard, yeah?" you ask, trying for sympathy. employers loved squeezing their workers dry during the holidays. your own boss was proof enough of that, running the office like a sweatshop for santa's unpaid elf labour.

"something like that," gojo says with a scoff, the corners of his mouth quirking up again, "what about you? what brings you here? it's christmas eve, isn't it?"

you sigh, the weight of gauche embarrassment suddenly pressing down as the words spill out before you can stop them, "my ex-boyfriend cheated on me."

gojo's lip curls, the kind of expression that balances perfectly between pity and disgust, "that sucks," he offers. profound and wise, you have to agree as he continues, "you jus' find out or something?"

the question makes you cheeks heat, and you fiddle with the edge of your drink, "no, i've known all month." you gesture vaguely towards your purse, where your phone sat like an unsealed pandora's box, "but he posted...on instagram. and stuff. i'm still, y'know, getting over it."

gojo makes a thoughtful clicking noise with his tongue, "ah, see, i don't do social media. but that sounds rough."

you let out a weak huff, "yeah, well...now i just feel like a loser. my friends told me to go out and have fun, and here i am..." you trail off, downing the rest of your cranberry vodka in a single, decisive gulp. the sting hits your throat, sharp and sour, and you grimace at the burn.

gojo frowns slightly, leaning in just enough that you can hear how his voice softens, "i don't think you're a loser." the sincerity in his tone catches you off guard, pulling your gaze back to him, "it's fair to wallow."

his words hang in the air, and you find yourself smiling, albeit thinly, "that's...really nice of you to say."

gojo hums thoughtfully, "i meant it, i promise. but i can't exactly say i've been there, never really dated anyone."

you blink, openly gaping at the man, "really? you're joking."

it was hard to wrap your head around that. even with the odd blindfold, everything about him screamed 'pounce-worthy'. the broad frame, the charming smile, the striking white hair that looked like it belonged in a kérastase commercial.

gojo laughs at your incredulous expression, "same old work and stuff," he explains with a casual shrug. then his grin fades, tone shifting just enough for you wonder why that feels as though the clouds have covered the light of the moon outside, "always got in the way."

"at least you never had to deal with a breakup," you offer, trying to find some weak, silver lining.

gojo frowns, his pale complexion now tinged with a faint red flush that even the dim bar lights couldn't disguise. was he really that much of a lightweight, or was the eggnog's amaretto content deceptively boozy?

he sighs dramatically, "a friend once left me outside a kfc in shinjuku. then he became a murderer and a cult leader. that felt like a breakup."

"huh," you murmur, staring at the man with a mixture of amusement and faint alarm, wondering if you'd seen any cult leaders on the evening news lately. no, nothing save for the occasional incorrect weather report, a friendly good-looking priest running some scam association, and news reports about an octopus that could predict the lottery, "that's - well, okay..."

you couldn't quite tell if he was joking or not, but gojo seems to shake himself free of the odd reverie. he's running his hand through his shock of white hair, and his grin has returned, slower and a touch softer, "still, your ex must've been crazy. letting go of a pretty girl like you?"

the words land with surprising weight, considering they come from a stranger in a sleazy bar, but it leaves you momentarily stunned. you can feel a blush rising to your cheeks, your heart doing an embarrassing little flip before you manage to get a grip on yourself.

"wow," you laugh, feigning composure as you sip the last remnants of your drink, "smooth."

gojo's smile is wider now, "hah, i call it like i see it," and his lips now curl upwards as he leans in, "and i'm serious. if i had someone like you..."

you laugh again, but this time it's far more unsteady. you wonder if the cranberry vodka is playing with your head, "big words for someone who's never dated. should i be impressed, gojo?"

gojo's chuckle is a deep sound that vibrates in his chest, "i know a good thing when i see it. you don' need to date to know what you want. and i think i want you."

your stomach does a little flip, and you feel all rationality being pounded out of you just from staring at his unfairly gorgeous hands rest on sturdy thighs, "you do flattery well, i'll give you that."

"oh, i don't know about that," gojo says, fiddling with the stem of his glass, "but what'dya say we get out of here? how about my place?"

you blink slowly, and you're aware that your heart (and...nether regions) have already composed an answer before your mind has, "what if you're a serial killer? you're not about to silent night, deadly night me, are you? you haven't killed someone have you?"

for a moment, the man stills but then gojo leans back, "smart girl. asking the right questions. but no, i can at least promise that i'm not a criminal."

you hesitate just for a beat, the words lingering on your tongue, before you let out a breath and shrug, "fine. where's your place?"

"azabu," gojo replies without missing a beat, his tone smooth, like it's the most natural thing in the world.

you gape once more, blinking as you try to process the information. azabu? as in tokyo's ritziest neighbourhood, where a one-bedroom apartment could cost you more than most people's yearly salary? the kind of place where the floors are made of marble, and everyone's shoes are more expensive than your entire wardrobe?

gojo, ridiculously handsome despite looking like a circus runaway, too charming for his own good, and not the type you'd expect to find in a cheap downtown dive bar. definitely not on a christmas eve, at least.

for a split second, you wonder how a man like him even ended up in a place like this. maybe it's some kind of self-imposed penance. or he likes to keep things low-key when he's pretending not to be rich? maybe he's looking to cosplay a succession character?

whatever it is, it's working. not only does gojo have a face carved from marble, now you've got a solid ticket into seeing what a neighbourhood for the top one percent really looks like beyond it's wealthy exterior. maybe, you'll bring back a souvenir.

you wonder whether there's a group of small emotions standing around inside your head, inside-out style. glaring at you as if you're incapable of making good and rational decisions.

well fuck that, you gather yourself and shrug off the small wave of nerves, and loop your purse strap around your finger, "alright," you say, "let's get out of here then."

you don't miss at how the adam apple of gojo's throat bobs for a second, before he downs the rest of his drink in one go, "let's get outta here then."

you follow him out into the cold, your breath fogging in front of you as you try to focus, but the man is tall, like ridiculously so. but when you reach the curb, he turns to face you again, a frown marring his face.

"so, i have a small confession."

i changed my mind and i find you repulsive.

i was paid by your ex to do this, and now i've done enough to get my money.

i'm a serial killer.

you don't know which possibility is worse, "huh, a confession? what is it now?"

gojo chuckles, lifting a hand to the back of his neck, as though he's about to spill a dark secret into the night air, "i don't have a car."

"you've got to me kidding me. how'd you even get down here?"

gojo shrugs, a casual and almost lazy movement. and you feel your gaze lingering on his shoulders. broad, impossibly wide, the dark jacket hugging him in all the right places, like it was tailor-made to showcase just how much he filled it out.

"someone dropped me off. ages ago," like it was the most normal and rational explanation in the world.

your own laugh is short, a little disbelieving, but you pull your silver keys from your purse, "well, i guess i'll have to drive then. but what would you have done if i hadn't been here to save the day?"

gojo steps to the side, opening your own car door for you with a small flourish and exaggerated bow that makes your heart jolt again, "probably teleport back home. maybe fly, since the skies look clear."

what a weird guy. hot, but weird. he seems like the type to dress up with a fake beard and show up as gandalf at the next lord of the rings fan convention.

in the driver's seat beside him, you catch yourself staring too long. your gaze slipping over a model's jawline, the white of his hair being held up by the blindfold. even his vaguely expensive scent is disorienting, pleasant like pine and blackcurrant. but it's also hard not to be amused when he's furrowing teeth into plush pink lips out of concentration, pressing an address into your cracked gps screen.

well, merry christmas to you.

gojo's place is well...how do you say this? gorgeous doesn't quite begin to cover it. he leads you into the building with the ease of someone who knows every inch of it, tossing a casual smile over his shoulder as he swipes a key card to unlock the private elevator, "i tend to move around a bit. or stay in different places. keeps life exciting, don't you think?"

you step into the elevator alongside him, the polished mirrors reflecting the soft glow of gold accents and sleek, modern lines. his hand hovers over the control panel before he presses the button for the top floor. of course, it's the penthouse.

"you move around a lot?" you ask, arching an eyebrow, "what, like a restless billionaire or something?"

gojo smiles, leaning casually against the steel as the elevator begins its smooth ascent, "now you're exaggerating."

the elevator finally dings, and gojo steps aside, offering an exaggerated bow as he gestures for you to exit, "after you, my fair maiden."

you almost scoff at the ridiculousness of it, but there's something so endearing and charming about how he pulls it off, especially when paired with the unfair symmetry of his face.

floor to ceiling windows dominate the far wall, revealing a jaw dropping panorama of tokyo's skyline. the city stretches out in a glittering sea of lights, with the tokyo tower glowing a golden exclamation point against the velvet night sky. the interior is just as impressive, with polished wood floors that gleam in the warm light and a glass dining table that sits beneath a sculptural chandelier. that same faint scent of blackberry and pine lingers in the air, heady almost.

behind you, gojo strolls with an easy and languid grace, tossing his jacket onto an artisan leather armchair. beneath it, his sky blue dress shirt clings just right and rolled up to reveal forearms faintly dusted with pale hair. you think you've momentarily forgotten how words work, and you avert your gaze quickly. though not before catching the faint smile on his lips.

"not bad, huh?" gojo says, heading to the open kitchen as though he's unaware of the effect he's having on a rational and sensible mind such as yourself, "it's no dive bar, but i'll do."

you shake your head, bewildered. trying to process how someone you met in a dingy bar could live somewhere that looks like it belongs in architectural digest. even down to the odd, ancient looking pieces that scatter the wide living room. weird looking artifacts of some sort. maybe he's also a collector? go figure.

"not bad?" you repeat, incredulous, "gojo, this place is incredible."

the man laughs, opening a sleek fridge to grab a bottle of water, "i have good taste," he says with mock modesty, his tone teasing as long fingers twist off the cap, "and a thing for gorgeous views. though, between you and me, i'm not great with heights. ironic, i suppose. paying a fortune for a view i'd rather not get too close to."

he waves a hand vaguely towards the windows, the blindfold still firmly in place.

"so, what's the deal? did you win the lottery, or inherit a fortune. or are you some kinda secret agent who moonlights as a barfly?"

gojo lifts the bottle in mock toast, "let's just say i'm very good at what i do."

you arch a brow, crossing your arms and ignoring the warm flush creeping up your neck, "and what exactly is that?"

"oh, you know. standard stuff. international intrigue, thwarting evil creatures. i even saved a kitten from a tree the other day."

"right, because nothing screams the next member of the avengers like eggnog in a seedy bar."

gojo leans casually against the counter, "even the avengers need a holiday drink now and then. don't knock it." but then he gestures towards the sleek couch, "wait, you can make yourself comfortable, y'know. i'd hate for my guest to think i'm a terrible host."

"terrible host? no, but a mystery man —"

before you can finish, your foot catches on something hard, and you stumble forward with an undignified yelp. gojo reacts instantly, how does he move that fast, and his arm is shooting out to steady you. but glorious gravity and magnificent momentum has other plans.

both of you crash onto the couch, and you find yourself sprawled unceremoniously across his lap. gojo's laugh rumbles low in his chest, and you can feel the warmth of it underneath your palms as you steady yourself, "well, that's one way to get comfortable," he murmurs, voice teasing as his large hand lingers lightly on the curve of your waist.

you prop yourself up slightly, cheeks burning, and glance back at the offending object. your brows knit together when you spot what looks suspiciously like a katana gleaming under the soft light.

"did i just trip on a — hey, what the hell is that?"

gojo interrupts, smoothly extending a long leg to nudge that suspicious object under the nearby coffee table before you can finish, "nothing important," he says breezily, the motion so quick you almost think you imagined it.

his focus shifts back to you, almost guilty, but his fingers are pressing divots into the fabric of your top, "now, where were we? hi."

you blink, caught off guard by how strange it is to feel the searing heat of someone's gaze underneath a blindfold, impossibly intent, "hi yourself," you manage.

for a moment, neither you nor the gorgeous man under you move, and the world feels strangely airless.

but your fingers twitch against the fine linen of his shirt. and before you can second-guess yourself, you reach your hand up to the edge of the silk fabric over his face and you ask, "can i take this off?"

gojo tilts his head, like it's a genuine consideration and you catch the faintest flicker of hesitation. it's fleeting, replaced by a crooked smile as he nods, "go ahead, sweetheart."

your hand rests lightly on the silk, hesitant for only a second before tracing its way to the back of his head. your fingers brush through impossibly soft strands of white hair, and his breath hitches when you find the knot tied neatly to the base of his skull.

you wonder what manner of man gojo is, letting himself be stitched undone by a stranger. but with care, you undo the knot, working deftly and clutching the fabric as you pull the blindfold away.

the blindfold slips free, and for a moment, you're certain you've forgotten how to breathe. bright, piercing blue eyes. framed by thick white lashes blink up at you. the intensity of such an unearthly gaze is softened by something more vulnerable, almost shy. nervous even.

"wow," you murmur without thinking, the word spilling out as gojo's expression shifts, an unguarded openness replacing the playful smirk that you've seen all evening.

your earlier assessment echoes in your mind: k-pop reject wannabe. the recent memory now feels like quite the injustice, a careless slight against a face that defies easy description. each detail of his face is striking, as if some divine hand had taken special care to sculpt him from the fabric of time and space itself.

gojo seems to sense your analysis, and you're sure that he's parted his lips to speak, but whatever he was about to say falters. that faint flush, pale-red like vermillion watercolour bleeding across a canvas, blooms across his cheeks. gojo's hazy gaze flickers for a second, and it sends a thrill through you. he's affected by this, by you.

it's hard to resist the slow smile that curves your lips, light and playful if only to mask the way your own heart is racing, "are you seriously shy now, gojo?"

gojo's expression shifts again almost immediately, as if that subtle invulnerability has been replaced by something sharper, almost indignant. he sits up a little straighter, the movement making you acutely aware of how the hard planes of his body feel beneath you.

"shy? no," gojo says, his voice steady but edged with some need to defend his honour, "i just...don't usually do this. that's all."

there's a sincerity in his words, an almost begrudging honesty that takes you by surprise. you tilt your head, as your murmur, "i don't either."

before you can second-guess yourself, you tilt your head down. pressing your lips to gojo's in a featherlight kiss. his taste is intoxicating, honey and sweet grapes mingling with a hint of that ridiculous vanilla drink from earlier. you pull back almost as quickly as you leaned in, testing the waters.

but your breath catches when you see that the blue of his eyes has deepened, darkened. and his lips, pink-blush and slightly parted, form a quiet and stunned oh!

"cool," gojo manages, his voice rougher than you expected, and you bite back a laugh as you watch him swallow hard.

"huh, cool?" you echo, your amusement bubbling over, "that's it? that's all you've got?"

gojo's grip on your waist tightens, and his hands are now splayed over your spine. anchoring you to him, as his mouth curves into something sly, though his flushed cheeks betray his composure, "compliments to the chef?"

you shift slightly, pressing more of your weight firmly into his lap. though not yet close enough to situate yourself over his groin, delighting in the way gojo's blush spreads down his neck, staining his skin a shade reminiscent of ripe berries swirling in cream.

you can feel gojo's attention as much as you can see it, how his own gaze lingers, deliberate and unhurried. taking you like a masterpiece that deserves more than a cursory glance. the hand that had been steady on your back shifts, his fingers threading through your hair. he watches as the strands slip and fall beneath his touch.

"thought you said you wanted me, gojo," you tease, though you're certain your voice is betraying the way your pulse is doing its best impression of the macarena in your jugular, "are y'gonna do something or not?"

gojo's gaze snaps back to you, a flicker of something far more intense passing through those impossibly blue eyes. full of hunger, need even. the hand in your hair slides away, only to settle at your jaw. it's warm and steady, his thumb brushing slightly over the plush of your bottom lip.

"i do want you," gojo says, his voice low and steady and maddeningly genuine, "want you to kiss me again. and again. as many times as you want until i forget my own name."

"gojo —"

"satoru," he interrupts, his voice cracking slightly, stripped of any previous swagger. it's unsteady and raw, affected in a way that excites you. sends a dark heat curling low between your thighs, "you can call me that."

"satoru," you repeat softly, letting the syllables fall from your lips, unfurling in the most hazy way.

something within the man shifts. his hand tightens on your waist, dragging you closer in a way that punches the air from your lungs. right over -

oh. the thick, curve of his erection straining against slacks that probably cost more than your monthly salary. it's deliberate, almost desparate at how the invisible thread snapped inside him. unravelled the careful composure he's been clinging to until now.

"go on," gojo murmurs, his voice dark with need, "kiss me again, please."

you lean closer, eyes flickering to his lips, and your pulse roaring in your ears, "who would i be to deny you any wish, satoru?" the words come out more reverent that you'd expected, as if your entire world has been tilted off its axis.

and then you kiss him, hard. desparate. as if his lips are your birthright, a homeland to claim. and gojo's kissing you back, carrying a sweetness that seems both foreign and familiar. in an instant, the weight of another man, a dreary haze in your past, vanishes. gojo is suddenly everything you didn't know you needed, vibrant and electrifying.

"let me know if it's too much," gojo breathes against your lips, his voice shaky as if he's trying to tether himself to the earth. but your kiss deepens, frantic and unrestrained. his mouth moves against yours with a hunger that sends sparks down your spine, and you suddenly realise you quite like the taste of vanilla when it's dripping from his open kisses.

you pull away, for every human needs air. but the sight before you has you clenching your thighs desperately around the bulge where you sit atop. gojo's gaze is heavy, full of that desparate longing that makes your chest ache. his lips are swollen, a soft cherry hue from your kisses. and strands of white hair fall over his blue eyes.

"look what you've done to me, fuck. miss you already," gojo murmurs, and before you can respond, he surges forward, hands pressing against your face with the intensity of a storm. one hand reaches to find the nape of your neck, letting you surrender to the heat of this touch.

you crave more, so much more from gojo, who's taking you in like you're his last breath, his final indulgance. it's as if he's found a new devotion in you, ready to worship you at the alter of your false godhood. but before you can part your mouth to tell him exactly what you and where, gojo's hands are already sneaking under your top, brushing against the trembling skin of your torso.

his teeth are biting down on your lip, leaving you dizzy. and gasping, and so damp in your panties as the fabric of your top is peeled away, and you're left shivering, fighting against the cold of the december air. you find yourself pressing harder into the warmth of his chest, letting the swell of your chest press flat against him.

"shoulda' turned the heat on before we came in," gojo murmurs, breathless as his lips hover a mere centimetre away from yours, "got nothin' to worry about, sweetheart. i'll keep you warm."

"didn't t-think i'd spend christmas eve like this," you gasp, your head lolling to the side as gojo presses open-mouthed kisses to the soft arc of your neck, sensitive even to the cool air.

"no?" gojo's reply is breathy, almost frantic as if he's fumbling in the heat of the moment and has little grasp over the words tumbling out of his mouth, "neither did i. but this? b-better than any fuckin' mission they could've sent me on."

you cock your head, feeling the heat of his clothed cock underneath your thighs, "m-mission, huh? what are you talking about - mmph!" but the rest of the question never escapes your lips for it's swallowed up by another one of gojo's candied kisses.

his rough hands work deftly, finding the clasp of your bra with ease. a pretty crimson thing, almost sheer as it caught the light. and in the centre, a tiny satin bow sat like the final touch on a perfectly wrapped gift. you had only worn it half-heartedly earlier in the morning, some forced christmas cheer for your dreary day ahead.

the look on gojo's face was anything but composed, staring at your cupped tits like you'd knocked the air out of him and his chest rose and fall as though he were remembering how to breathe. in a single fluid motion, your bra is unhooked. the faint metallic click barely audible over the pounding in your chest and he's tossing it aside with a casual flick, his focus entirely on you.

you find yourself mesmerised by his eyes, those swirling pools of blue that seem to have stolen fragments of the sky itself, clouds brushed into cerulean depths with strokes of syrupy smoothness. they're breathtaking, but the thought shatters as gojo's canines graze the flesh of your breasts, a sharp and teasing nip that pulls a gasp from your lips. leaves you rocking sharply against his erection, making him throw his head back, ragged.

the playful string blooms into a flush of heat, and gojo's at it again, his mouth working to leave faint red marks in its wake. you squeal, half in surprise and half in helpless laughter (and entirely in a lusty haze) but gojo only pulls back enough to murmur, "what? can't help myself."

but then he peers at you abruptly, his lips parted as he catches his breath, "wait. do you wanna —?" and gojo tilts his snowy hair towards the shadowy doorway that leads out of the living room, the implication clear even through his panting.

you nod, breathless, "yeah, jus' help me up."

without hesitation, a strong arm slides around your waist, and before you know it, you're being swept into a semi-bridal carry, and your head is resting against the fabric of his dress shirt. not a bad feeling, one you could get used to.

at the doorway, gojo lets out a low 'shit!', nudging the door open with his foot. the faint sound of clattering follows as he kicks something out of the way. you glance down from your entirely too comfortable vantage point, spotting a smattering of cheap tinsel, all glittering in metallic silver and gold, tangled with round baubles that glisten faintly under the dim light.

some have little smears of glue, and uneven glitter patches, as if crafted by unsteady hands, but with earnest effort.

"you big on christmas or something?" you tease, delighting in how the tips of his ears light up like nose of a famous reindeer.

gojo freezes for a moment, almost sheepish as he clears a path, clearly trying to look as macho as possible as he gingerly pushes aside a string of green lights, "made those for my students," he mutters, "thought they'd like them in the classroom tomorrow."

your laugh grows louder, and gojo's brows furrow, his tone growing defensive, "it's a nice surprise for the classroom!"

"i'm not making fun of you!" you insist, leaning up to press a gentle, soothing kiss to the hollow of his collarbone, "it's sweet. i think it's really nice, actually. wait, you're a teacher?"

gojo's mouth quirks up in a faint smile, "something like that," he says cryptically, finally clearing a decent and hazard-free path into a sleek, and clean bedroom. it's all modern space, all clean lines in shades of cream and white, and navy.

gojo sets you down gently, and the plush fabric cradles you as your back lands on fresh linen. and for a quiet, tender moment, you're both caught in the stillness. gojo kneels at the edge of the bed, his hands resting lightly on each of your thighs as if he's anchoring himself there.

his gaze is steady, content, maybe even adoring in a way that feels too intimate for someone who you barely know. there's a warmth in his expression, like he's savouring the sight of you, searching for something — and he's found exactly what he's hoped for.

almost without thinking, you lift a hand, cupping the sides of his face. his skin is warm beneath your palm, soft with the faintest hint of pale stubble that seems to fade into his skin. the moment your hands makes contact, gojo leans into your touch instinctively, his white lashes fluttering closed.

"hey, 'toru," you murmur softly, "y'still with me?"

gojo's eyes snap open at the sound of that, sharp and bright, as if the nickname itself has sparked a challenge in him. a low and almost frustrated sound escapes from the back of his throat, and he presses a feather-light kiss to the inside of your knee.

you don't miss at how his teeth sink into his bottom lip again, worrying and working the plush flesh like he's trying to steady himself. spreading your weeping thighs aside, as his gaze is fixed on something. intense, unwavering. the sheer focus of it making heat creep up your neck.

at how he must be staring hungrily at damp, sheer red fabric that clings to the outline of your cunt. at how it must shimmer almost translucently now, the sticky slick of your arousal enhancing the gloss, making your panties glisten under the light.

you're feeling an unfamiliar kind of shy under the weight of his attention, at how he must see how the fabric clings closely to your puffy, swollen folds — the delicate weave exposing the shape of your taut pussy, practically weeping for his touch.

you needn't have asked, for gojo was already diving into deliver.

he's gliding his index finger over your dripping pussy, letting the tangy syrup sink onto his fingers, leaning in to press a sweet, almost innocent kiss to your clothed cunt, "she seems desperate for me, don'tcha think, heh?"

the sound of the fabric ripping is sharp and wet, a squelching and almost fleshy tone, a sound that's both soft and sharp to the blood rushing between your ears. a strained tear of your beautiful panties, leaving cool air to gently leave a kiss of its own upon your cunt.

you gape at him, a bit too stunned to find coherent words, "hey, what the f-fuck! those were like super expensive!"

gojo rolls his eyes, the kind of look that has a bit too much attitude for someone who's practically begging on his knees for a taste of you, "don't get all huffy on me, sweetheart. 'm gonna buy you more, is tha' alright?"

"i'll r-remember that, satoru," you murmur, giving a sharp tug at his white strands, "you gon' have to give me your number now."

gojo shudders, the muscles in his back rippling underneath his tight shirt, "was already gonna," and he's back to pressing soft, kitten licks to your now exposed folds, small circles over your throbbing clit.

you buck your canting hips closer to the heat of his mouth, to where the pink tip of his teasing tongue peeks out of a pretty mouth, "satoru, c'mon. can't you just, fuck—"

you sharply cry out as he presses his mouth forward, a sudden surge of heat jolting through you. burying himself deep, his nose brushing against the sweet, syrup that coats your pussy, and the rhythmic, wet movements of his tongue send shivers through your entire being.

"mhm, jus' as sweet as you look, baby," gojo gasps, swirling and flicking his tongue, teasing you with every deliberate patter of the muscle near your winking entrance. so messy, slick and you're not sure where he ends and you begin as it all glides together carnally.

gojo seems languidly tipsy, just from munching through the gloss of your cunt, far more intoxicated from your taste than any cheap christmas liquor. he alternates between pushing his tongue past the ring of your tight walls, and then wrapping his lips around the searing pulse of your clit, leaving your hips shaking and dragging over his mouth, smearing yourself over his chin.

you're fisting delicate white locks with fierce urgency, and he hisses and then chuckles into your pussy, "tch! ease up there for me, yeah? jus' move your hips like you were doin' before," and you comply, angling yourself better so he can flatten his tongue against your folds, jaw grinding deeper into you "hah, yeah, just like that."

"taking good care of you though, aren't i? wait, say it. say that 'm making you feel good," and he's bullying a long finger into your gummy walls, clingy and sopping, "say 'm making you feel better than a-anyone ever has," and you just mewl as your arousal must surely be dripping down his forearms, staining the cuffed sleeve of his shirt as he takes your sweet juices down his throat.

there's stars beginning to twinkle at the edge of your vision, and you know you must be close, for your heart is practically dancing a heavy beat against your ribcage, and you suddenly push his mouth away, watching as a clear strand of spit or your slick forms a taut bridge between his mouth and your folds.

"w-wait, satoru, s-stop."

gojo's head lifts, eyes blinking as if coming out of a faze. but then, like a switch, something sharp flickers behind his gaze and concern floods in. his thin brows furrow slightly, glossy lips parting as he reaches out, as if to steady your hips, "you okay, sweetheart? what's wrong?"

your heart stutters, pounding so loudly you're sure he can hear it. you try to steady your breathing, but the tremour in your fingertips betray you as they gently slide through your hair, the silky strands tangling around your hand.

"nothin' wrong, 'toru. but i was gonna cum," and gojo's face, still flushed and soft with arousal, splits into a shy, amused grin.

"hah, i know. that's what i wanted," he's close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath hitting your aching cunt, but you shake your head again.

"feels unfair, wanna see you too. wan' you to cum in me,"

you watch, almost in awe, as a low and guttural sound escapes gojo satoru, raw and unfiltered. gojo runs his tongue over his lips, his eyes dark with something dangerously close to hunger.

"you sure?" and his voice is hoarse, unsure despite his roaming gaze. you nod, your hands digging into his shoulder, tugging at the crisp fabric of his dress shirt, desparate to feel the warmth of his skin underneath.

his shaky laugh of disbelief only makes you more aroused, whining for him to hurry up, and before you know it, he's standing up, towering over your boneless form on the sheets.

"how could i deny you anything?" he murmurs, echoing your earlier words. gojo's hands reach for the hem, the fabric shifting as he pulls it over his head, revealing a milky expanse of toned skin, smooth and taut over a set of abs that should easily land him on a gq list.

his waist is slender, defined in all the right places, and the soft taper of muscles make your breath catch. but the soft white trail of hair that reaches under his waistband makes your cunt clench.

"y'seem happy with the view, don'tcha?" gojo's voice is teasing, the cocky smirk tugging at his lips, but you can hear the impatience threading his tone now too. he's not as in control as he lets on, his hands now making quick work of his belt, leaving your mouth dry when he finally pushes his black boxers down.

you should have known that his cock would be as pretty and unfairly gorgeous as the rest of him. he's circling the strawberry-red tip, glowering and throbbing, right over your gathered slick, coating it and smacking the mushroom head in a thwack! over your poor clit, leaving you jolting as he laughs and leans down to kiss you sweetly once more.

"jus' look at me, yeah?" his drawl is slow, lazy and so ruined. at the first inch of his throbbing cock that slips through your walls, he looks utterly undone. a mess of sharp edges softened by something far more primal and raw.

gojo's head tips back, exposing the elegant line of his neck as the moonlight cascades over you, "hey, sweetheart, 's not too much, yeah?"

hazy blue eyes bore into you, and for a brief moment, in the time it takes for the lightning to strike the earth, you swear that his eyes glow. almost radiant and jewel-like, with cerulean fractals shimmering as if they're emitting life of their own. perhaps its simply the electrifying stretch of inches that's rendering you to hallucinate, whining as your nails find purchase in milky skin and rippling shoulders.

"i-it's big, 'toru," you pant, feeling him almost shudder at the clipped name again, as he grips the base of his cock to bully the final inch in, sighing in contentment as he finally bottoms out, with a wet pop!

gojo looks feral like this, heaving a breath through his mouth as though the air is being taken from him from every second he spends stretching you out on his fat shaft, "hah, 'm glad, i'm so glad i met you tonight, sweetheart. fuck, fuck, y'feel i-incredible."

he's pushing your thighs further back, running his hands over the plush skin, leaving bruising red prints that won't disappear tomorrow as you moan, wanton into his open mouth, letting gojo run his lips down your jaw and into the curve of your neck.

you're practically now folded in half under the bulk of his weight, feeling stars collide in absolutely astrophysical ways, impaled further on the long and thick length of his cock, "in so deep, s-satoru."

seems that gojo is a man of little mercy, for he seems only all the more invigorated by your squeals, drawing his torso back to watch the hypnotic smack of skin on skin, of your slick and creamy froth creating fresh rings over his pistoning cock.

he's entirely out of control, as you feel your body go limp from the pleasure shooting through every nerve and pore.

depraved.

you don't realise you might have let that slip out loud, so dizzy in your cockdrunk haze because gojo's suddenly ramming himself roughly in you, as though he was desperate to have his cock kiss your cervix, to feel for every divot and nook of your cunt's walls.

"d-depraved, hah. people call me, fuck, p-people call me a lotta things, sweetheart," and gojo's so good with it, letting your pussy have not even one moment to take reprieve, having you feel each vein and bulge of his cock, "but depraved is n-new."

the hand that was dancing over your thighs flies to your swollen, aching clit. practically glistening for his attention, and his attention you did receive, "right, t-there! 'toru, mmph!" you're trying to splay your legs wider, giving his quick hand more room to swirl tight circles where you needed him most.

your double-vision gaze lingers on the ripple of his muscles, the way his arms flex and shift as he seems intent on angling you just right for him to drill his cock over and over, at some freakish and feverish pace, "y'so good, gojo," you purr, and your nails curl against his arms, pressing just enough to leave tiny crescents in his skin, the faint dampness of his exertion clinging to him, "s-so strong!"

something shifts. the glow is back, electric blue flooding his eyes like crackling storm clouds. it's almost unnerving, this unearthly brightness, as if he's some ancient god wrapped up in human skin, and you've just stumbled into a divine revelation.

gojo stills for the briefest moment, the thick head of his cock snagging on your puffy folds as he draws himself almost entirely out. the absence of motion makes you whine, an airy and impatient sound escaping your throat. that hesitation feels like a tease, like a string that's been pulled so taut, before he finally dives forward, capturing your mouth in a messy, heated kiss. sloppy in its disregard.

"s-so strong, huh?" gojo's voice is rough, shaky, as though he's trying to centre himself but your tight pussy holds him in hypnotic sway, "y-you think so? think i'm the strongest?" his lips brush yours as he speaks, and there's something almost boyish and charming in the way that he seems to be fishing for a compliment, despite the low heat in his voice.

you pull back from his wet, spit-stringed lips. just enough to wrap your hands around his neck and push him closer, deeper into you as he gutturally groans, "if i s-say yes, are y'gonna keep showing off?"

gojo's laugh is short, breathless, "y-yeah, wanna see?"

he makes quick work of pushing himself back into you, pumping himself so far in that your slick must be painting and sopping the white hairs at the base of his cock almost translucent, "o-oh my god, 'toru, fuck, oh my god!" the stretch has your head spinning, as if the skies are parting above you, and you're melodramatically left to see the light of divinity as gojo bucks his hips harshly into you. as if he's too far gone, needs to prove himself to you with a good fuck.

"you h-have to say it," gojo stutters, his words tumbling out so quickly, like rough gravel, "say it, fuck, c'mon. say i'm — say i'm the s-strongest. you have to, hnghh, god. please, jus' agree, okay?" his voice is cracking, that cocky veneer entirely shattered under the weight of his rambling desperation as he practically rummages through your sopping insides, "y-you feel it right, i mean, you can feel me — i mean."

a high whine escapes your throat as his pace becomes almost olympian, and you wonder faintly how you haven't managed to sprain a muscle or break a bone yet, how he hasn't managed to shatter something with the sheer pace and force of how gojo satoru fucks, "hah, 'toru. i'm —"

"close? g-god, i hope so. 's what i want. nothing, like n-nothing feels better than this right?" his words are falling out of him in a messy, pussydrunk rush, his eyes flickering between your face and down to where your pussy lips are bulged around his shaft, "so good, right? the b-best thing you've ever —"

you truthfully don't even hear the rest of his words, blood absolutely roaring and rearing in your ears, your ribcage as you feel the tight coil snap, letting out short, slurred snaps of his name when you cum. as he doesn't quite let up on smacking his hips right against your ass, "s-satoru, 's getting s-sensitive, oh, fuck. fuck!"

he's suddenly whining, with pleading and erratic blue eyes chasing after you, sloppily pushing down so he can gasp and pant into your open mouth, before capturing you in a heart-stopping kiss as he finally gets milked dry by your pulsing and fluttering walls. in awe of how creamy white is practically leaking out of you, dripping a stringy trail over the flesh of your thighs.

you're agape at how utterly fucked he looks right now, though you're certain you do not look much better as fat tears prick at your eyes, streaming past your ears from the overstimulation, "s-still fillin' me up, 'toru. god, do ya always cum this much?"

at first, you don't even get a response from gojo who just sinks his teeth into the juncture of your neck, almost as if he's trying not to cry out, but then he's back to circling your clit with a rough hand, "makin' me sound like some kinda whore, s-sweetheart. 'n and i told you. don't do this m-much."

and now he's slowing down, pleasurably painful bucks of his hips keeping glossy, white seed in you. ensuring that it coats your entire entrance, "an' it's not my fault that she," and here, he gives your clit a small smack! grinning like a madman, "n-not my fault that she's so, hah, addictive."

each tight circle of his hand on your clit sends you hurtling into yet another orgasm, one that has you begging gojo for mercy, repreive, for more. an orgasm that has him whispering the sweetest nothings into your ear, "d-don't worry, gotcha like this. gonna let you rest n-now, jus' gotta relax for me."

by the time he's slipping his still somehow hard cock out of your creamed cunt, you can feel exhaustions heavy and caring hands caress you, rendering your body limp and boneless. your eyes heavy and hazy, but you can feel a soft ghost of gojo's kiss over the shell of your ear, "h-hope y'still here in the morning, sweetheart. don't leave, yeah?"

the morning sunlight filters through the blinds, and despite the ache in your limbs that cricks your bones, you drag yourself out of bed. christmas day, after all. you've thrown on gojo's dress shirt from last night, snug enough to flutter around your hips, but oversized enough around the shoulders to let you drown in it.

it's cozy though, and even the chilly air feels refreshing against the warmth clinging to you. gojo is still sound asleep, and you had smiled at how he took little puffs of air as he was passed flat out in bed. but you always like to be up early on christmas, and there's something about the holiday that makes you feel like you need to earn the right to nap later.

you wander around the bedroom for a bit, stretching your legs as your muscle protest in earnest. eventually, you decide to make your way to that kitchen. breakfast, right.

it seems like a good idea, especially considering the last thing in your stomach was a questionably sour vodka. so you pull open the fridge, expecting something befitting of this apartment. perhaps a slab of wagyu beef, a tin of caviar, a thick block of pistachio-cream dubai chocolate. you'd even settle for sushi.

instead, you're left staring back at a stack of candy canes, some strawberry yoghurt, a carton of milk and some fast food wrappers. despite your protesting stomach, a deep amusement washes over you. it doesn't surprise you that gojo would have a fridge stocked with food you'd find at a child's birthday party and a greasy diner.

still, breakfast is in order and because you can't help it, you pull out a candy cane and start unwrapping it. you're just about take a bite when you hear the unmistakable pad of footsteps. you turn, face to face with someone who would clearly not be out of place on a vogue covershoot.

gojo hasn't tossed on a shirt, and the sunlight filters over his chiselled physique before your sight is stolen by the loose sheet wrapped around his waist. delicious. you try to snap your gaze back to his face, but it's hard to not track your gaze down his torso, like a cat eyeing a particularly irresistible sunbeam.

"good morning to you too," gojo says, a grin curling his lips, "what are you doing?" his voice is still thick with interrupted sleep, laced with a morning rasp that forces you to ground yourself and stop falling prey to the god, eros and his machinations.

"breakfast, 'm starving."

"don't bother," gojo says, shaking his head, "we can go somewhere nice for breakfast. like real, actual food. don't think you want half-eaten yoghurt."

you nod enthusiastically, mind turning back to the peeling seal of the strawberry yoghurt with a spoon sticking out of it. but then, something else catches your mind's attention. a little curiosity piques, one that you cannot help but ask him.

"wait," you begin, snapping your teeth around the saccharine mint of the candy cane, "y'know what's crazy. like, i swear your eyes glowed last night. not even in a silly compliment way, but like electricity. i thought i was like, losing it.'

you expect gojo to brush it off with a wink, or maybe laugh it off like you're just teasing him. but instead, the man's face shifts, that cocky smile faltering for the briefest moment. it's gone so fast that you think you almost imagined it. but why does he look...almost guilty?

before you can process that, you realised you've leaned yourself over the counter, and in your absent-mindedness, your elbow presses a button on the answering machine. a small beep, and suddenly, a voice blares through the room,

"hey, gojo-sensei!" comes a high-pitched, distinctly teenage voice, an excited boy who sounds a little crackly over the speaker, "so, we found this grade one curse yesterday...and uh, we totally got rid of it. we were gon' call you, but you didn't pick up. but i almost got my arm torn off. wait, no! that sounds dramatic, i got shoko to look at it anyway. so what we're all wondering right is that we don't have to hand in any homework now right? as like reparations?"

the voice crackles off, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. you stand there, absolutely dumbstruck, staring at the answering machine like it's about to burst into flames or start singing christmas carols.

gojo, meanwhile, has the most awkward look on his face, clearly caught between embarrassment...and what? panic, amusement?

"satoru, what the fuck?"

he looks at you for a moment, but instead of speaking, he lets out a long and exasperated sigh before pulling out one of the counter chairs, "you're gonna want to sit down for this one, sweetheart."

[millersfinest]

can u make some like generic dating ellie headcannons? (tlou universe preferably)

i love ur writing sm!!

dating ellie williams ◡̈

cw: usual fluff, mentioned love languages, mention of joel’s death (i wanted to be as canon as possible), a little nsfw but nothing too crazy.

note: here are some semi-ooc ellie hc’s!! i feel like im so bad at headcanons, but here you go. thank you for enjoying my work, i hope you like this too pookie!

ellie! is a total introvert to her core, so no matter how she found out about you taking interest in her… she’d probably need some time to think about it.

ellie! would have you freaking tf out over it too. but she means well, she’s just a really bad over-thinker—never wanting to say the wrong thing. but she’d come around and never stop apologizing to you.

ellie! would take a little while to open up to you, if you weren’t friends first. she’s been through a lot in her life, and she fears that her trauma could scare people away.

now, if you were already friends (specifically close friends), you probably would’ve already known her deepest darkest secrets and feelings by the time you started dating. every traumatic event and every fixation she’s had since she was a child.

ellie! thoroughly believes in physical touch and quality time as a love language.

for physical touch: it doesn’t always have to be sexual (she doesn’t complain either way), she just likes to touch you—knowing you’re right there next to her. you could be doing the dishes and she’d come up behind you, leaning her head on your shoulder, with her hands delicately placed on your hips. or standing by the bar at the tipsy bison, with her fingers dipped into any of the pockets of your jeans. keeping you close.

for quality time: she does love her moments alone, but they’re always better with you somewhere near by. sometimes, when she would spend hours painting or drawing in her art room, she’d ask if you could come sit in. so you’d bring your book, or whatever you were doing, and read silently in the same room as her. while a smooth record played in the background. but sometimes, she doesn’t even ask. you could be doing the most boring thing ever, and she’d float around you like a curious bumblebee.

ellie! love, love, loves being babied—even though she’d never admit it. she has a reputation to uphold, of course. during the spring, due to the patrols and supply runs, her allergies would wreck havoc on her. that’s where you come in to nurture her back to health. she’d have tissue stuck up her nose, with her head lying in your lap on the couch. you rubbing your hand over her hair, soothingly.

“if you kiss me right now, i think my sinuses will re-open.”

“ellie, you just sneezed two minutes ago.”

“baby, pleaseeeee! i need it!” and she’d give the craziest puppy dog eyes known to man. and, of course, you’d give in. giving her the sweetest smooch ever. it didn’t open her sinuses, but she knew that. just know… she’s gonna convince you to give her another to be sure.

another scenario would be coming home after a long day at work (idk i feel like doing patrols would be like her main thing). she probably had a rough day with the lingering infected, and came back with a few injuries. the moment she stepped through the door, she’d be calling for you. wrapped in your arms, smelling like the outdoors, you’d slowly undress her and then run a bath. she loved when you’d cater to her in that way—cleaning her cuts, washing her skin from dried blood and dirt. after all that, you’d cuddle in bed, pillow-talking until her eyes shut before yours.

“goodnight, els.” smooch.

ellie! was a little iffy when it came to holidays, but when it came to your birthday it was a special affair. jackson was a healthy and happy little bubble, but because the idea of loss wasn’t foreign to her—celebrating her loved ones was very important to her.

if you didn’t like grand gestures, she’d keep it lowkey. maybe throwing a little surprise for the two of you at home; cooking you dinner, having a movie night, and giving you little trinkets she found on the road. or painting something for you in secret, then giving it to you as a gift.

speaking of cooking…

ellie! has thing for making good food. a part of me feels like joel put her on when she was young, and after he died (yeah, i’m sorry) she made an effort to keep it up. playing guitar was much harder for her since she only had two fingers and a thumb on her left hand—so she decided to pick up something else to stay close to him.

so every chance she can get, she cooks for you or both of you. when you would go on patrols, you’d make sure to pick up cook books from before the outbreak since she found them so fascinating. and you loved being her little food guinea pig. spoiler: she was a fast learner so her cooking skills were pretty good.

ellie! 100% taught you to play the song (that we all know and love) that joel taught her on the guitar. and whenever you knew she needed to hear it, you’d play it for her. and, i swear on everything, there’d be tears in her eyes every time.

and for some freaky stuff… (i won’t get into crazy detail but i just wanna be thorough ;D)

ellie! just loves loving you… making love to you—doing everything that she can to almost prove that you’re everything to her (not that she needs to but she does it anyway).

meaning: at the very best, she’s a service!top. however, i can get behind her being a switch/verse (or maybe i’m bias lmao).

ellie! probably wouldn’t strap as often as the fanfics show. especially being in this apocalyptic world—where would you get them?? if they weren’t hella old… and, i feel like she’d think they were a little silly (but if you wanted to try it, she’d oblige because what you say goes).

ellie! loves to watch the expressions of your features contort into visuals of pleasure. it’s how she knew she was being good for you—doing everything that you asked but better!

your first time: of course she was super awkward. not really knowing where to put her hands at first. but once the heat began to rise, and your bodies began to press together, her entire energy changed! she’s her most confident when she’s in service to someone (in some way)—so she makes it her prerogative to make you feel good and comfortable. you weren’t really expecting that from her, though. it only took one airy moan coming from your lips for her to completely flip the script.

her hands were firmly delicate, and she made sure to be very vocal in your ears and over your body.

overall, ellie williams is a very attentive lover. in many ways than just one.

[parkerluvsu]

the song “diet pepsi” by addison rae is lowkey my guilty pleasure 😔 but maybe you can write something with art inspired by the lyrics :3

“when we drive in your car, i’m your baby/ losing all my innocence in the backseat”

diet pepsi (art donaldson x fem! reader)

my boys a winner, he loves the game/my lips reflect off his cross-gold chain

youre not ashamed, you know art can see you leaning forward in your seat, even wearing sunglasses he can tell that your eyes linger on his v-line when he lifts up his shirt to wipe his face. he doesn't mind it though, how could he complain about his gorgeous girlfriend oogling him from the stands. arts head always whips toward you when he wins, looking for a wide smile on your face. the moment he steps off the court you're jumping into his arms, letting him twirl you around and kiss you passionately, letting the adrenaline do the talking for him.

i like the way he's telling me/my ass looks good in these ripped blue jeans

arts a sucker for you. if anyone asked him what his weakness is he'd respond quickly with "my girlfriend". you always have to hold back your giggles when his mouth drops open as you step out of your apartment for your date, the fabric of your blue jeans hugging your curves just right. he snaps out of his stupor to open the car door for you, placing his usual hand on your thigh as he drives. before you enter the restaurant he'd chosen for your date, he leans down to whisper in your ear " your ass looks good in those jeans"

my cheeks are red like berries in spring/bodies a work of art you'd diet to see

you blush, your face heating up as you sit down at your table for dinner, the red of your cheeks visible even in the low light of the restaurant. art almost doesn't even have the mental capacity to order food, his eyes stuck on the way your skin glimmers from the candlelight, longing to reach out and touch you.

untouched, xo/young lust, lets- (ah)

most people would make fun of art for how hard he's fallen for you, saying that he doesn't know what love is, he's only in his first year of college, but he disagrees, the love he feels for you rivals anything he's ever seen in a romance movie. you bring him back to reality by holding his hand over the table, squeezing it lightly. "you wanna get out of here?" art asks, and you giggle, sensing his eagerness to be near you once again, not seperated by a stupid dinner table. art pays for the meal, leading you out of the restaurant with a hand on the small of your back.

when we drive in your car, im your baby (so sweet)/losing all my innocence in the backseat

the parking lot is empty when you get there, thank goodness, although you doubt that anyone could see in through the foggy windows, but they could probably tell what was going on by the rocking of the car. arts hips pressed against yours, his feet planted on the floor of the car, balancing you on his lap. his slender fingers hiking up your dress, the warm palms of his hands pressed against your hips, almost as warm and comforting as his lips on yours. your head tips back onto the headrest, allowing him access to the panes of your neck, the soft skin making him lick his lips in anticipation. he hopes the marks he leaves behind will stay, scaring off admirers so he can keep you all to himself. art almost feels bad, seeing you squeeze your eyes closed in pain when he presses the flared tip of his cock into you. the way you always have a hard time taking him makes him feel like his taking your innocence, like your body is trying to stay pure. nevertheless, he's in love with you, and the way you always suck him right inside, squeezing so tight that it's hard for him to pull out. he's so sweet though, rocking your hips for you, cooing sweet nothings into your ear, encouraging you that no ones gonna see you, the parking lots empty. art would never admit it to himself, he's not a slut like patrick, but he can't deny the twitch of his cock when he thinks that anyone could find you here, and figure out what he was doing, the cute tennis player, always lagging behind his friends and not speaking unless spoken to, is fucking his girlfriend in the backseat of his jeep. when art cums, he makes sure that you pull your panties up right away, "i want to keep being inside you" he says, as if he could feel your pussy while not being inside you, just because his cum is there. when he drops you off at your place, he takes great pride in seeing a drop of white running between your thighs.. maybe he's more like patrick than he thought.. <3

[ruruvxz]

what is making out with newjeans Minji would be like ? Oneshot idea

“DRAIN ME”

Roommate!Kim Minji x Law Major!Reader

↳synopsis: College was hard enough especially ever since your new roommate moved in with a high and mighty attitude. Always berating you for your life choices and the people you constantly surround yourself with; she was the epitome of annoying. But you couldn’t help but be… enamored by her in some weird way.

↳cw: classic roommate troupe, swearing, overachieving, making out, Minji is stuck up, reader is also stuck up, both kinda annoy me, pure fluff, slightly sexual themes

↳wc:2.6k

a/n: how does… how does someone write a kissing scene what the fuck heuahhfhhhhh, i was a little bit too embarrassed to write this. kinda halfassed but idk what else to add anther … Also this is the 5TH rewrite for this Minji fic im trying to cope with the news that they might disband rn.

Harvard was hard enough to get to, especially with the scholarship you broke your back for, no one deserved to be here more than you. Needless to say, you found it awfully annoying whenever, Kim Minji, your roommate who was an undergraduate in the arts section, would belittle your talents—always having snarky to say when you couldn't understand the lecture, and insisting that her life was far more complicated than yours. Not to mention how much of a slacker she was during house tasks, often refusing to do any chores even if she was the sole factor in the apartment was a mess.

Minji often rebutted all your complaints with the same excuse stating that "she shouldn't have to help because your friends were always over, and that they can do it." Which wasn't all that false, you did have someone over almost every day, and you knew she didn't like them because of how loud they were, but that's what made it fun. Seeing the scowl on her face whenever she opened the door another batch (of completely different people) walked in with no remorse. Or whenever she avoided talking to any of them because she simply hated being around them. A stern believer that people like you and all the people who accompanied you were plastic and fake.

It wasn't until she called them out to you that you reached your boiling point. "None of them actually like you Y/N, how do you expect every single person to actually fuck with you like that, let alone the hundreds of people you constantly have over." She spat out, reaching her hand out to grab the trash your guest left all over the living room, Minji didn't even have the curtsey to look up at you while she spoke.

"What is your problem, Kim." You scowled as you grabbed the empty beer cans; shoving them into the black plastic bag you were lugging around. To be fair Minji was far nicer than you thought, even if you were the one who threw the party without her knowledge, she patiently camped out in her room, only coming out once it ended to clean up beside you. It wasn't all that out of character since she was the nicest one between the both of you, always offering to help anyone in need, for example, right now. Minji was somehow so endearing in her weird way, that you almost felt bad taunting her every single moment you could. I mean, she reciprocated the banter, so who really is at fault here?

Minji just scoffed as she pushed her glasses back up from the bridge of her nose, she was about to say something before cutting herself off with a heavy sigh. "Nothin— nothing, they just..." She slurred looking up at your scrunched face before looking back down, continuing to throw trash into the bag. "Y'know what— never mind, forget what I said," Minji mumbled, looking back at her annoyed before picking up a pillow and chucking it at her. She let out a soft yelp before looking up at you, ready to attack Minji couldn't help but notice how you broke out into laughter once the pillow collided with her face.

"Hey, what was that for!" Minji scowled as she dropped the trash bag next to her knees, you, being you, continued to laugh harder as her expression tensed. She grabbed another pillow from the couch and flung it at you, hitting your shoulder with a heavy thud. "Woah! What the!" You bite back rubbing your shoulder with your arm in pain, not realizing she would throw it too hard she reached her hand out, not before she laughed her ass off. "Hah— I'm so sorry—" Minji said before bursting out laughing as well, grabbing the pillow you threw at her from the ground and placing it back neatly on the couch.

Laughing at her action, "Why are you saying sorry? Aren't I the one who threw the first hit?" grabbing the pillow she threw, you dropped it haphazardly on the couch and walked away from her. "Not that." Minji cackled as she fixed the couch again, "I mean, yeah..." she cut her thought off "What I meant to get at, is I'm sorry for the other thing I said."

You stopped cleaning up the trash from the floor and peeked your head up, firstly why was she apologizing for anything, secondly, out of all people, she was apologizing to you. "Uhm, I'm sorry too I guess..." You rubbed your nape uncomfortably, taking your gaze off of her, "Y'know, for everything." Sighing you continued, feeling terrible because most of the stress she had coming back home was due in fact how horrible of a roommate you've been. "I haven't been— the best." It hurt a part of your ego to say that, as out of people you were apologizing back to your art freak of a roommate, Kim Minji.

"Thank you for acknowledging that Y/N." Minji exhaled as she looked back on all the times your bare presence had been obnoxious towards her. Despite understanding how dreadful you've become towards her, you still couldn't let that slide, who was she to talk like that towards you anyway? "Hey!" Was the only that could come out of your mouth, until Minji eventually cut you off. "I'm being honest Y/N, I'm glad you know, and that's not in a sarcastic way whatsoever."

The way both of you stood slightly as you continued your cleaning task was unbearably awkward, trying to figure out what to say next after that comment was gruesome. It finally ended when you had to bright idea to turn a new leaf with your roommate, could you go through your whole college experience hating someone you lived with? And to be fair she wasn't all that bad, she cleaned up to herself, she was mild-mannered, and she didn't actively seek conflict. (unlike you.) "Ahem... so Minji you busy after this?" You asked as you tied the black plastic bag and leaned it against the wall.

She followed in your footsteps as she chucked the last few beer bottles into her bag, tying the note protectively tight and chucking it aside. "I have an anthropology exam to study for..." She thoughtfully answered, you pouted at the thought that Kim Minji, of all people, was going to turn you down. "But that's in a few days, so I guess I'm free?" She moved across from you, heading to the kitchen to wash her hands, coming back to talk to you face to face. "Well, uhm, do you want to watch a movie or something— like to get to know each other... or something." You interrogated, trying your best to be nonchalant about the whole thing. "Sure, that couldn't hurt." She shrugged her shoulders as she made her way to the couch, and you soon followed behind her.

Needless to say, the whole interaction was more awkward than the both of you apologizing to one another. The movie picking was terrible as you both seemingly couldn't agree on what to watch, finally landing on The Idea of You. During the beginning, part felt as if you were having a dopamine cleanse, everything was so oddly boring, and without having any form of enjoyment like stress eating popcorn, you were going insane. It wasn't until the first kissing scene of the film that things got interesting, you were so bored you could only find entertainment from making fun of her expressions throughout. This scene in particular made you more intrigued by her as she was blushing madly while watching the protagonist deeply kiss the main lead, almost as if she's never experienced that herself.

"Pst, Minji." You leaned into her, jolting as your head hovered next to her shoulder "You good? You look like you're bugging out." She looked at you as you laughed quietly, still focused on the movie, only taking a small gaze at her as you leaned away.

"What." She scoffed, covering her face with her hand, "You're crazy. Just watch the fucking movie."

"Alright, just saying." You chuckle as you lean forward, pretending to go back to being 'interested' in the movie.

As the movie reached the peak of its raunchiest moments, Minji failed to hide her blush more and more, having trouble focusing as she stared down at your leaning posture and back at the movie. She failed to focus on the actors, finally reaching her breaking point, "What is with this movie, what is the whole point of recording a whole scene like this..." She muttered loud enough for you to hear. You gave her a noisy laugh, before leaning back up and resting your back on the cushions. "Dunno, maybe that's what does good nowadays— speaking of which, why don't you ever invite people over to y'know..."

"To what?" She scoffed, folding her arms and looking back at you, clearly offended by the insinuation that she was a geeky dirtbag who had the inability to attract suitors. "Not everyone's like you Y/N." Minji insulted, coming back a little more sleazy than intended.

"Oh? And what does that mean?" You pouted, stretching your neck wondering what snarky comment she would say next. "Nothing, I didn't mean it like that, I just hate when people bring that up." She took back her words quickly, turning her head away from you and back at the movie ahead, watching the two actors absolutely go at it. "Makes me feel like I haven't accomplished everything I 'should've already accomplished', catch my drift?"

"Ah, so you think that just because you haven't done anything inherently explicit it feels like you're less than an adult?"

"Woah, that was a quick evaluation, how'd you get that?"

"I mean, I do minor in psychodynamic psychology, maybe that's why? Hah… Sorry didn't wanna sound like a major nerd there, but I don't think you hold base your opinion on yourself over something you can't do at the moment." You spoke, turning your head towards her as she studied you, looking at inspecting every single one of your facial features before snapping out of the trance she was in. “I guess, well if it means anything, you’d ace that course if you kept up with those assumptions.” You both chuckle loudly at her comment, not noticing how both of you are slowly leaning closer to one another.

Minji was closer to your face, the tip of her nose colliding with yours as she inched your lips to hers, the soft huffs as she glanced down at you before finally interlocking your mouths together were exhilarating. Her touch was soft and hungry, she wanted to conquer every part of your lips; not wanting this moment to slip her by, she reached out and grabbed the back of your head gently. Pushing you farther down her lips, Minji felt herself getting lost in you, her eyes squeezed shut as she was in a deep state of euphoria. Before pulling you away from her, she slid her hand off your cheek and back, creating distance.

Her heavy breathing was apparent as she tried to gain composure, stunned by her actions she let out a meek cough, staring straight into your soul to gain back any confidence left within her. "I'm so sorry, I don't know what had gotten into me." Minji tittered, pulling away fully her hands gripping the section of denim on her thighs, you didn't know what was going through her head right now as she fumbled her gaze away from yours. It took a long moment for Minji to open back up, only muttering a few words before clamming up again "I wouldn't blame you if you ended up moving out—"

She couldn't continue as her breath sharpened and took focus on how your hands rested on top of hers, gently rubbing her fingertips, taking a count of how soft she felt under your touch. Smiling, you answered back, confused as to why you would ever do such a thing (despite despising her moments ago, and being quite literally on the verge of signing your lease termination to get away from her) "Why would I?"

Minji was astonished by your sudden change in attitude because if she were to ever be this raw and genuine towards you any time before this, you'd curse her out and avoid any contact after. This was different, you seemed so... empathetic and sweet, it made her heart thump out of her chest, staring at your lips was not making it any better for her. She lacked any self-restraint as she interconnected your lips with hers once more, with much more haste. Minji yearning for your touch, pitifully grabbed onto your hands, holding them tightly with a slight shake.

Despite doing much more sinister things with other people, you felt as if you were flung back to high school and having your first kiss, it was all so electrifying. You didn't want to admit to yourself that you were enjoying this a little more than she was, but gosh, does this woman know what she's doing? From her timid (even borderline, loser-ish) personality, you wouldn't expect her to be dancing her tongue with yours. "For something oddly explicit, she's very delicate..." you wondered to yourself. Finally taking charge, you pull your hands away from hers, Minji pulls back regretfully, questioning why you stopped holding her.

It wasn't until you cupped her cheeks with both your hands and pulled her down on the couch, that she finally got a hint. Minji's cheeks burned up, she was able to rest her elbows to leverage herself up only to be met with your face inches away from hers. She was stunned by the visual you pinned her against and was unable to speak as you kissed the tip of her nose, anticipating more only to be cut off by you pushing yourself off of her. “Woah! Okay, let’s end that there today.” You cut yourself off, not wanting your relationship to be another victim of hookup culture, knowing that you’d be stuck with her for the next few months.

“What…” She furrowed her eyebrows, her cheeks still flushed with a pink hue, “Don’t get me wrong, I’d want to continue, this, with you. But I don’t want the consequences of being in an unhealthy, uncomfortable, and unethical relationship with my roommate, whom I was getting closer to.” You coughed, realizing how fast you were speaking right now, Minji who was still under you processed everything you were spewing out. “So what I’m getting at, is that instead of wanting to sleep with me… you’d rather just have me as company first?”

“Correct, unlike anyone I’ve been with, I’d like to get to know you first before committing to anything that sexual.” You nodded, pulling yourself off of her and sitting back normally on the couch “Not because I don’t want to, I just wrong want to take it too far.” Sheepishly admitting as you watched her sit back down next to you, a bit embarrassed by the situation. “Truly what I want to take away from this, and what I took away from spending this time with you, even if it was fairly short, was to get to know you as you. To take in what you’re capable of and understand if you can handle someone like me.” Minji stared at you in awe, the complete shift from a prudish foulmouthed popular campus student, who couldn’t barely hold her own emotions, was now so prim and proper.

Minji wondered if maybe it was her who did that, or maybe that’s how you were this whole time, but it took one day to bring that out of you. Whatever it was, she didn’t want this moment to slip by her! “Hmm, well then, take what you want.”

[wolvietxt]

𝓒LOSER 𝓣HAN 𝓑EFORE !

pairing : daryl dixon x female!reader warnings : implied age gap, crybaby!reader, he’s a bit ooc, overprotective rick wc : 2.1k a/n : i’m seriously debating writing for carol i want her so bad also can u tell i’m in love with rick

it had been a week since the group returned from their last supply run. as usual, you'd found a quiet spot in the prison, back against the cold concrete wall, a pencil in hand, and your notebook resting on your knees. with each sketch, you could lose yourself in the lines and shapes, letting the chaos of the outside world fall away.

daryl had seen you tucked away like this more times than he could count. he often found himself stealing glances in your direction when he thought you weren’t looking, the way you focused intently on your drawings. there was something calming about it, a slice of peace in a world that had long since forgotten the meaning of the word. he liked that you managed to create beauty in such a bleak place, and it stirred something warm inside him.

as he gathered supplies for the next run, he couldn’t help but feel a pull toward you, the way a moth is drawn to a flame. but even as that warmth spread through him, a thread of hesitation tugged at his heart. he didn't know how to approach you without sounding awkward or making things weird. you were sunshine to him, and he feared his often grumpy demeanour would cast a shadow over your light. but he was trying, to be kinder, especially around you. the group made it easy, at this point, rick was almost like a brother to him, and carol a best friend. to his eventual dismay, this meant she knew a whole lot about him and could read him like a book.

“hey, daryl,” carol’s voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. she had a knowing look in her eyes, the kind that made him shift uncomfortably. “you’ve been staring at her again.”

he scoffed, crossing his arms defensively. “i ain’t staring.”

“sure,” she said with a teasing smirk. “just like you weren’t the one who picked up that flower for her last week.” 

that had been a mistake. you had looked so happy, your smile lighting up the whole room. and damn if that hadn’t made him feel all sorts of things. but now, he just shrugged it off. “she’s a good kid. just… i dunno, wanted to do something nice.”

carol raised an eyebrow, a playful grin on her face. “you’re not fooling anyone, daryl. you care about her.”

“i care about everyone in this group,” he replied a bit too quickly, his tone defensive. 

“sure you do,” she said, walking away, leaving him alone with his thoughts. 

he watched you again, how you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, completely absorbed in your art. he wanted to be closer to you, to show you how much you meant to him. but the words always stuck in his throat, trapped beneath layers of his own insecurity. he knew he wasn’t good enough for you, but he wanted you like he never had before.

later that day, the group gathered to discuss the next supply run. rick, as usual, was leading the meeting, his face drawn and serious. “we need to get more medical supplies. that last run barely did us any good.”

you were sitting under carol while she toyed with your hair, comfortable inbetween her legs while she was sitting on one of the beds. flipping through your notebook, a page with a half-finished drawing of a sunset catching your eye. you liked how it reminded you of the days before everything fell apart. 

“we’ll need someone to stay back and guard the place,” rick continued, looking around the room. “any volunteers?”

before you could even think, carol spoke up. “i’ll stay. i can help keep watch.” 

“me too,” you chimed in, glancing at daryl, who met your gaze for a brief moment. there was something in his eyes that made your heart race, but you quickly looked away, focusing on the conversation at hand, hoping the heat rising to your cheeks wasn’t too obvious.

“you sure?” rick asked, his voice skeptical. “it’s dangerous out there.”

“we’re capable,” you said firmly. “if something happens, we can handle it.” 

daryl watched the exchange, his brow furrowing as he weighed the risks. he knew you were strong, but he also hated the idea of you being out there alone. he couldn’t shake the need to protect you, but he didn’t want to stifle your independence either. 

“i’ll - i’ll be careful, i swear” you added, sensing the tension in the room, especially from daryl.

after the meeting, the group dispersed, but daryl lingered behind, gathering his gear. he overheard rick talking to carol, their voices low and serious. 

“she’s too inexperienced,” rick said, frustration lacing his words. “what if something happens? we can’t afford to lose anyone.”

rick loved you, he really did, as much as everyone else in the group, but he also had a tendency to worry, especially about you. you weren’t new to the group, you’d been with them since the camp, same time as rick. rick had found you limping down the road, a herd of walkers following not far behind you. he’d scooped you up as quick as he could, and since then, he’d always felt rather overprotective of you. your naivety often put him on edge, his worst nightmare would be you ending up in a bad situation because you were often too trusting of others. you didn’t know what kinda guy he could’ve been when he’d picked you up in the middle of the street, but you didn’t struggle at all. he cared for you like a father.

“she’s tougher than you think, rick,” carol replied. “but she’s also got a soft side. you know that. don’t underestimate her.” 

“it’s not that,” rick snapped. “it’s just… i mean she’s irresponsible, she’s - ” 

you walked past them, catching the tail end of the conversation. your heart sank, unsure of what to make of it. you wanted to prove yourself, but hearing rick’s concerns made you doubt your abilities. you ducked into a hallway, hoping to clear your head.

daryl noticed you walking away, and for a moment, he considered following you. he wanted to check on you, make sure you were okay. but then he thought about the conversation with rick, and fear gripped him. he didn’t want to sound like a worried parent, but you were really important to him. 

he took a deep breath and made his decision. he would go on the run with the others, but he would make sure to bring back something special for you. maybe that would lighten your mood.

as the day wore on, the run took longer than expected. they fought off a few walkers and scrounged around for supplies, but daryl’s mind was elsewhere. he kept thinking about you, how you had looked when rick was questioning your abilities. the way your smile faltered, and your confidence seemed to waver. he hated that rick could make you feel small, even if he didn’t mean to. 

when they finally returned, daryl felt a rush of relief to see you sitting in the same spot, sketching in your notebook. the others were busy unpacking supplies, but he couldn’t take his eyes off you. your brow was furrowed in concentration, and it made him want to protect that focus, to shield you from any negativity.

“hey,” he said softly, approaching you cautiously. 

you looked up, surprised, and your face lit up with a smile that made his heart skip. “hey, daryl! how was the run?”

“it was alright,” he replied, his gaze flicking to your notebook. “what’re you working on, sweetheart?”

“just a little something,” you said, your cheeks flushing. “nothing special.”

he leaned over, trying to sneak a peek at your drawing. “looks pretty damn special to me.”

you turned the notebook slightly, revealing a sketch of the prison with a sunset in the background. it was beautiful, full of vibrant colours, and it made his heart swell. “y’re real talented, you know that?”

“thanks, daryl.” you replied, a hint of shyness in your tone. “it’s just a hobby.”

“hobbies are important,” he said, feeling bold. “keeps you sane in this crazy world.”

“what about you?” you asked, curious. “do you have any hobbies?”

he scratched the back of his neck, feeling awkward. “hunting, i guess. and, uh, taking care of my bike.” 

“i’d love to see your bike sometime,” you said, your eyes sparkling with interest.

“yeah?” he said, surprised. “i could show you. it’s not much, but it gets me around.” 

“i’m sure it’s more than that,” you replied, smiling softly. 

“here,” he said, shifting the conversation. “um, i got you something.” he pulled out a worn paperback book from his backpack, the edges frayed but the cover intact. “found it on the run. thought you might like it.”

your eyes widened, and you took the book from him gently. “oh daryl, you didn’t have to…”

“i wanted to,” he said, a hint of shyness in his voice too. “thought you could use a new read.”

you opened the book and gasped, looking up at him with a mix of disbelief and joy. “this is one of my favourite authors!”

“really?” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile. “figured you might like it.” 

you hugged the book to your chest, your eyes brimming with tears. “thank you so much!”

“ain’t no big deal,” he said, trying to sound casual, but the warmth in his cheeks betrayed him. “now don’t you go cryin’ on me.”

you laughed through your tears, and he felt his heart swell. “sorry, i can’t help it. ‘s just really thoughtful of you. you always do nice things for me.” you said, giggling through the tears now streaming down your face. you didn’t really know why you were crying, but you hoped daryl didn’t think too much about it.

“i just think you deserve it,” he replied, shrugging but unable to hide his smile. 

“you’re really sweet,” you said, wiping a tear from your cheek. 

“ain’t sweet,” he teased. “you’re just a damn crybaby.” 

you playfully nudged him, and he chuckled, feeling the tension that had built throughout the day start to dissipate. “you really like it?” he asked, wanting to make sure he hadn’t messed up.

“i love it,” you said sincerely. “and it’s just what i needed. i’ve never read this one before. ‘m gonna start reading it tonight.” 

“good,” he said, his heart racing. “maybe we could, uh, read together sometime.”

“i’d love that,” you replied, your smile brightening even more. 

he was struck by the way you looked at him, your eyes shining with genuine happiness. it made him feel brave, like maybe he could push past the awkwardness. “i mean, if you want to.”

“i definitely do,” you said, your voice soft. 

the two of you stood there, the world around you fading as the moment stretched on. daryl felt a surge of affection that he could no longer contain. he stepped closer, the heat radiating off you making him bold. 

“can i?” he asked, his voice low, leaning in slightly. 

you nodded, and without thinking, he closed the distance, pressing his lips against yours. it was soft and tentative at first, but then you melted into him, deepening the kiss. the warmth spread through him, and he felt like he was finally letting go of everything that had held him back.

when you pulled away, breathless, he couldn’t help but laugh lightly. “damn, you really are a crybaby.”

you giggled, a flush spreading across your cheeks. “maybe just a little.”

“well, if you keep bein’ so sweet, i might just have to keep makin’ you cry,” he teased, unable to hide his grin.

“i wouldn’t mind that,” you said, biting your lip, a shy smile creeping onto your face.

“good,” he said, his heart racing. “because i ain’t goin’ anywhere. you’re stuck with me.” 

“i wouldn’t want it any other way,” you replied, feeling a sense of peace settle between you two.

as the night drew closer, the two of you settled into a comfortable rhythm, sharing stories and laughter, the world outside fading away. daryl felt a lightness in his chest that he hadn’t experienced in a long time, and he knew that no matter what came next, he wanted to face it with you by his side.

🌀 daryl dixon : @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @lemoanaid, @sunnykittyzz

@california-boys-and-sun, @cable-kenobi

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[0omillo0]

hello!

i was wondering if i could request an imagine where han and reader have been dating for years (close to marriage) but reader is always in “competition” with lee know? they friendly fight over han but it’s never serious, like han giving the reader attention but lee know pokes his side to steer han’s attention away.

idk if this makes sense but i saw a tt that gave me the idea and i really enjoy your writing! anyways have a good day! 🤍

a/n : tysm I appreciate it so much ����🏻 hope you like it <3

fluff!! humor!! kinda short sorry🥹

Han x Reader (ft. Lee Know)

The afternoon sun bathed the cozy living room in a soft golden glow as you curled up with Han on the couch. After dating for years, you had perfected the art of just being together—no big gestures needed, just quiet moments, his arm around you, his smile close enough to catch your heart in an instant.

You looked up at Han, feeling his warmth and the soft squeeze of his hand, when you noticed a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned in. Just as you were ready to steal a quick kiss, a familiar poke jabbed at Han’s side.

“Hey, am I interrupting something?” Lee Know’s smirk was unmistakable as he slid onto the couch next to Han, conveniently wedging himself between you two with the stealth of a cat.

You sighed, rolling your eyes with a grin. “As a matter of fact, yes, you are.”

“Oh, my bad,” Lee Know chuckled, clearly not the least bit sorry. “But I think Han’s looking a little bored over here. Mind if I keep him company?”

Han laughed, nudging Lee Know back, though his hand still reached over Lee Know’s shoulder to lace fingers with yours. “Come on, Minho, you have all week to hang out with me.”

Lee Know raised a brow, his expression dramatic. “Oh, I see. Someone’s already whipped.” He gave Han a playful nudge, then leaned over Han’s shoulder to give you a mock pout. “How’s it feel to have such competition, Y/N?”

You crossed your arms, putting on your best fake glare. “I don’t know, Lee Know, maybe you should find your own boyfriend to pester.”

Han burst into laughter, his eyes crinkling with that adorable look that made you melt. But Lee Know was relentless. He poked Han’s side again, and Han squirmed, laughing.

“Okay, okay! Stop, that tickles!” Han chuckled, clutching at his sides but still keeping one arm firmly around you. “You two can share, how about that?”

“Oh no,” you said, leaning over with a smirk. “I’m not sharing. He’s mine.”

“Possessive, I see,” Lee Know said, a sly grin playing on his lips. “Han, blink twice if you’re being held captive.”

“Captive? More like captivated,” Han said, looking at you with a smile so soft, it made your heart skip. For a moment, Lee Know even seemed to pause, rolling his eyes at the sweetness, but a faint smile slipped through his teasing.

“Alright, alright, I’ll give you two lovebirds a break,” he said, standing up with a sigh that could only be described as mock dramatic. “But don’t get too cozy, Y/N. I’ll be back to reclaim my bestie soon.”

He gave Han a final, exaggerated pat on the shoulder and tossed you a wink before disappearing into the kitchen.

As soon as he was gone, Han turned to you with a grin. “You know he’s totally jealous, right?”

“Obviously,” you replied, laughing. “But he’s got nothing on us.”

Han leaned in, his face close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath. “Guess you’re stuck with me, then.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” you whispered, as he pulled you into a soft, lingering kiss, undisturbed this time.

But just as you were about to melt into the moment, Lee Know’s voice echoed from the kitchen, “Don’t get too comfortable in there!”

The two of you burst into laughter, the sound filling the room with a warmth and joy only shared by people who love as deeply as they play.

[lovecoree]

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 — 𝐊𝐓𝐇

pairing: painter!tae x black fem!reader

synopsis 🎱: taehyung doesn’t tolerate your attitude, especially when he’s not in his right mind for his next painting. punishing you is the only way for you to know he’s serious about that.

warning: SMUT ! mdni , oral ( m receiving ) , filming ( with consent ofc ) , huge d!ck tae ( yes this is a warning ) , reader is black coded , dom!tae , brat!reader , brat taming , let me know if there’s more !

a/n: this was an anonymous request, also my first time writing smut so it’s probably trash, but hope you enjoy

Taehyung was an amazing artist, the art ideas he had in mind came easily to him, wrist moving swiftly as he painted on a blank canvas, but today was a bad day for Taehyung. He couldn’t seem to stay focus nor come up with ideas that seemed new and interesting. Everything looked the same leaving him more angry and destroying countless of canvases— left ripped or thrown all across the room.

Taehyung was busy mixing up paints in a container with aggression, grey sleeves pushed up and veins protruding on his hands and arms, and glasses on the tip of his nose. He was pouring his anger out on mixing that he didn’t hear your footsteps nearing the door, not until your voice stopped all his movements.

“You’re still going at it” Your voice came out in a sarcastic tone as you took in the sight of the messy room and your boyfriend standing in the middle. Your voice got stuck in your throat when taehyung only turned his head and not his full body, eyes boring into yours as his expression was blank. “What do you want.” His cold tone was nothing new to you, you knew Taehyung can be cold towards you— or anyone when he’s angry about his work not coming out the way he wants it to be, but that doesn’t stop you from letting your true sarcastic comments slip out from time to time.

Your feet thud against the marble floor on purpose as you moved closer towards Taehyung, slightly kicking the half used canvases out of your way. Taehyung hated when you thud your feet, always telling you to pick your feet up when walking. He eyed your movements before slowly looking up at you with an intense look— a warning look that you did not take seriously. First mistake.

Folding your arms over your chest, wearing nothing but Taehyung’s grey shirt that’s oversized on you. “You’ve been in here for five hours, you promised me you’ll only be in here for two hours tae.” Which he did promise, the sincere promise he made right after giving you a kiss. Taehyung sighed as he fully turned his body around to face you. Small container and paint brush still in his hand tightly.

“Y/N sometimes promises are meant to be broken, you’ll be fine. I’m busy.” His blunt comment made you mad as you rolled your eyes. He didn’t tend to be harsh with his choice of words, but the lack of creativity and your sarcastic tone was making him annoyed. “Then why the fuck did you make the promise in the first place tae?” Taehyung jaw clenched as he looked at you with a hard glare. The bratty behavior and talk back is something Taehyung never liked, especially when you cuss. “What I say about cussing?” Taehyung stepped closer to you, towering over your body, but you wouldn’t waver. Second mistake.

“Boy I don’t care what you said, it’s my mouth. Now like I said fuck you make—” The gasp you let out as Taehyung finally broke his calmness, throwing the container of paint and paint brush on the floor— thank god it was washable paint. He gripped your neck pulling your body closer to his as you looked up at him. “Baby I told you I don’t tolerate disrespect or you cussing me out, apologize and I’ll let it slide.” Taehyung’s tone was deep, deep to the point you felt your panties start to dampen.

The look he gave you was telling you to utter something slick again, so what you do? Utter something slick again. “I’m not apologizing for shit.” Third mistake.

“That’s it take it all.” Taehyung groaned deeply glancing down at you as he gripped the back of your neck holding you still as he fucked your mouth. Loud gaging noises was music to his ears. “You look so pretty with my cock down your throat.” He smirked loving the sight of your tears pooling down to your puffy cheeks, spit and precum glistening on your chin and down on the floor, balls slapping on your chin repeatedly from Taehyung’s hard thrust.

“can’t bitch now, can you?” Tilting his head back, gripping the wooden table from behind him tightly as he bucked his hips. You looked up at him as you tried your best to breath out your nose, griping his thick thighs to slow his movements. “Nah, be the brat you wanted to be and take it.”

Taehyung’s girth had your mouth stretching painfully, but you enjoyed it. His tip hit the back of your throat repeatedly as you moaned around his length sending vibrations to taehyung’s cock causing him to moan. “Fuck baby, just like that.” He loved seeing your eyes filled with tears, made him weak in the knees. “S-Shit baby let me record you being good for me, hmm?” You nod your head yes as Taehyung stopped his thrust.

You could finally catch your breath as Taehyung slipped out your sore mouth. Cock drooping low from being to heavy to stand on its own. You hear him unlock his phone and pressing the record button. Gripping the base of his cock you stick out your tongue to let him slap his fat red tip on it. Pretty wet eyelashes blinking up at him as he slide back in, going back to his brutal thrusting.

Taehyung gripped the phone tight as he looked at the camera catching the pornographic scene. Biting his lip trying hard to suppress the smirk seeing you gag around him as he held you in place, nose hitting his freshly shaved pubic bone as he stuffed his cock down your throat. What felt like minutes he finally let go of your head causing you to pull back completely. Taking a huge gasp of air as spit connected from his swollen tip to your now puffy lips.

“You look a mess pretty.” You whimpered looking up at him breathing hard. He wanted to ruin you completely as punishment. Normally he would edge you on, but since you ran your mouth so much he decided to put it to good use. “Cock drunk already?” He slightly tapped your face with his free hand before gripping your jaw to look up at the camera.

“Apologies for being a brat baby and maybe I’ll go gentle.” Your hands rubbed up on his thighs as you looked up at him so pretty. “I-Im sorry for being a brat, it won’t happen a-again tae.” Voice practically raspy from the stretch, Taehyung smiled. “Good girl, finish me off.” He moved his hand from your jaw, allowing you to finally take control. His cock felt heavy in your hands as you jerked him off placing him back in your mouth, bobbing your head back and forth.

“Oh my— fuck you’re amazing.” To be honest this is exactly what Taehyung needed, from all the pent up stress he had today, fucking your throat was the only option in his mind to release it. “Fuck baby I’m close.” Taehyung’s moans turns into whimpers as you pulled away to jerk him off faster sticking out your tongue.

“shitshitshitshit.” Taehyung’s jaw dropped as his eyes rolled back, stomach caving in as thick ropes of his cum splattered all on your tongue, lips and cheeks. You looked pretty to him.

Taehyung turned the recording off, placing his phone on the table behind him. He watched as you scooped the remaining cum off your cheeks and lick your fingers clean.

“You are truly amazing baby.” Helping you up off the floor Taehyung kissed you passionately, tasting his own bittersweet cum. The kiss was sloppy yet loving. “No more distractions, ok?” Placing a harsh slap on your ass you smiled. “Ok.” You giggled as he picked you up bridal style carrying you to y’all shared bedroom.

[runninriot]

Inspired by the prompt Love is saying "I love you" even when you're scared by @quinns-shadowy-arts for @steddielovemonth day 20

Give and Take

wc: 1737 | rated: t | cw: mentions of drinking and smoking weed | tags: Hurt Feelings (past), Fear of Rejection, Eddie realises he has a crush on Steve, Love Confessions, Friends to Lovers

  

Eddie is just about to leave when Wayne calls after him. Tells him not to stay out too late and to say Hi to Steve. And then he ends how he always does, never lets Eddie go without:

„Love ya, son."

Eddie smiles, gives his uncle an affirming nod before making his way out of the door.

He's heard it so many times now, these words his uncle says so easily, and he wished he could do the same.

It's something Eddie struggles with a lot; telling people he loves them is generally scary as shit.

Because in his experience, to love means to hurt because loving always comes with a price, a piece of your heart you give away with no chance of getting it back.

He’s given away too many of those.

Gave a piece to his mother when he was six. Proudly holding up the card his teacher helped him write for mother’s day. “I love you, mommy” it said on the heart-shaped paper and Eddie smiled, toothless and wide. Got a dead-eyed glare in return when she threw it on top of a pile of unopened letters. Not saying a word, not even acknowledging his extra neat hand-writing or the colourful flowers he’d drawn on the back.

He gave one piece to Jenny in grade 6. The girl with the blue eyes and rosy cheeks who was always so nice to him. One day after school she took his hand and kissed him on the cheek. Eddie felt like flying, told her he liked her a lot, thinking she might feel the same. But Jenny just scrunched her nose, pure disgust written on her face when she told him “Eww, no. It was just a dare.”

He lost a large piece in high school, gave it to Nick. The pretty boy with the seductive smile who dragged him behind the bleachers and stuck his tongue down Eddie’s throat. The kiss was too wet and too sloppy but Eddie thought maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be. Let Nick push him to his knees and willingly opened up wide. Not once, not twice, it went on for a month. And Eddie felt wanted but apparently wanted too much when he asked him to be his boyfriend.

Eddie learned to keep his mouth shut. To keep the remaining pieces to himself.

-🖤-

Steve is already waiting in his car that’s parked outside the Munson’s home, waving happily when he sees Eddie step outside.

They’ve made plans to spend the evening at Lover’s Lake, have a couple of beers and maybe a smoke while watching the sunset.

They do that often, just hanging out together. Enjoying the long summer days and each other’s company.

It’s always nice to spend time with Steve because with him Eddie never has the feeling he needs to tone himself down. Can ramble and rant, can be as loud and impulsive as he naturally is without having to worry about scaring him off. Steve never makes him feel bad about himself, accepts Eddie as he is.

Being with Steve always feels right.

They get along. They’re friends now. And the more time Eddie spends with Steve, the more he understands him, sees him.

He’s vulnerable, like Eddie. Has had his fair share of people misjudging him based on what they see on the outside. Where people assume Eddie is scary and mean, they think of Steve as being strong but dumb. Where they think Eddie’s only interests are metal and nerd games, they think Steve’s life revolves around nothing but sports and girls.

But Eddie knows better. Knows all of Steve’s layers.

Sure, Steve does love his silly ball games (something Eddie will never understand) but he also loves to cook and bake. He hates the taste of ginger and is afraid of moths. He can’t sleep with his back turned to the door and he likes the sound of heavy rain pounding against the window. He hates to read but he loves to listen if someone takes the time to read to him.

Eddie cherishes Steve’s honesty. The way he’s not afraid to ask questions if he doesn’t understand something. The way he’ll tell you, straight forward, when you’re being unreasonable.

Eddie likes the way his eyes sparkle when he’s happy. Likes the way Steve snorts when he laughs really hard. Eddie likes the snappy tone he uses when someone (usually Dustin) gets on his nerves. He likes Steve's fierceness, and his courage, and how much he cares.

Liking Steve is easy because he’s a genuinely nice guy with a big heart who never lets his friends down and always gives so much.

Eddie feels lucky to have him in his life, would give everything to keep him there.

-🖤-

They are lying side by side on a blanket, their minds comfortably buzzed from the joint they shared, while the sun sets over Lover’s Lake, painting their bodies in a dark orange hue. A gentle breeze caresses their exposed skin, just a warm touch of air drifting over their sun warmed bodies.

It’s quiet out here, now that most of the people that came to enjoy a day at the lake have already gone home.

Eddie thoughtlessly turns his head to look at Steve who is lying there with his eyes closed, basking in the tranquillity of the moment. Calm and content, so still and at peace. So different from his usual demeanour – always alert, always a little tense, always ready to step in if someone requires his help.

He's... beautiful like that.

And suddenly it is like something snaps in Eddie's brain.

He can’t tear his eyes away, lets them wander over Steve’s soft features and the expanse of his body. Wonders, foolishly, what Steve’s skin would feel like underneath his fingertips, what it would be like to hold him, maybe even get a taste of his lips.

    Oh no. Oh fuck.

Something in his gut coils and twists, ripples through him like an electric shock wave when the realisation hits.

It was inevitable, really, and maybe deep down he already knew for much longer than he’d ever admit.

It’s a bitter truth to accept but the confession comes easy now that he allows his heart to speak.

He’s in love with Steve.

Can’t have him, clearly. But that’s just how it is. That’s always how it is.

Eddie turns his head back, eyes pinched close in frustration as he tries to breathe through the stinging pain in his chest. His heart pumps so fast it makes him dizzy, makes him feel a little like spinning on a carousel that’s going too fast.

    SHIT! Eddie thinks or did he said it out loud? Because Steve startles beside him and Eddie can feel him ruffling at their shared blanket when he moves.

   “Eddie? What’s wrong?”

Eddie looks back at Steve who’s suddenly so much closer than he was before –  brows pinched together in question, with small worry lines showing on his forehead, his face hovering over Eddie’s.

   “I just realised something,” Eddie answers too honest, doesn’t know where to go from here but he can’t find it in him to lie.

    “Oh,” Steve breathes out, his expression softening as the seconds pass. “Wanna talk about it?”

   “Uh, I- no. I’d rather not.”

The look Steve gives him shouldn’t sent him spiralling even more but goddamn does he look cute with that stupid smirk tugging at his lips.

Eddie wants to bite him, feels a deep red blush take hold of his face. Maybe he can put it off as a sun burn?

   “Who knew that the great Eddie Munson could be so timid?” Steve jokes and okay.

So much for trying to play it cool.

   “I’m not-“ Eddie takes a deep breath, “It’s just something I can’t tell you.”

Steve sits up and without being prompted, Eddie does the same. For a moment they just look at each other.

   “You know you can tell me everything.”

If Eddie didn’t know better, he’d think there’s something like disappointment ringing in Steve’s voice.

   “Yeah, hah, uh- not this, I guess.”

Eddie looks away, can’t hold Steve’s gaze. Nervously he starts to play with the rings on his fingers until a warm hand stops him, causing him to look back up.

   “Try me.” Steve’s voice is soft and Eddie knows he can trust him but-

    No.

He can’t. This isn’t worth losing him over. Eddie knows how this is going to go. He can’t give anymore pieces away.

   “I-“

Only now Eddie realises Steve’s hand is still resting on his own, his thumb gently rubbing circles over the back of it.

Steve has never touched him like this before, so tender it almost doesn’t feel real.

   “I like you a lot, Steve.” The words sputter out before he can even try to hold them back.

Eddie winces, tries to avert his gaze but before he can turn his head to the side there’s a hand on his cheek and a firm press of lips on his mouth and-

Eddie can taste weed, and beer, and the chips they shared. Steve’s breath is hot as he sighs into the kiss, his lips are plush and soft... they’re so fucking soft Eddie feels like sinking right into them.

He allows his eyes to flutter close as he deepens the kiss, wants more of the taste, more of Steve. His hands find their way to Steve’s hips, digging and pulling like he just can’t help himself, needs Steve closer.

They part when their startled laughter breaks the tension as Steve tumbles ungraciously on top of Eddie, looking down at him with glistening eyes.

   “Fuck, Steve.” Eddie feels giddy, breathless.

   “Yeah. Fuck.” Now it is Steve’s turn to blush.

Somehow their lips find their way back to each other, like it’s easy. And maybe it is.

Maybe it is easy because they both want it.

   “Want you, Eddie. Wanted you for so long but I was scared to tell you that I-“ Steve inhales shakily.

Maybe they both feel the same?

   “I love you, Steve.”

This isn’t just a piece. This is his whole heart he holds it out for Steve to take, hoping that this time, he’ll maybe get something in return.

Eddie holds his breath, feels cold sweat running down his spine as he waits for a rejection that never comes.

   “I love you, Eddie.”

[beyondthesefourwalls]

Welcome To My Masterlist!

My name is Alli and I write sometimes.

Masterlist under the cut

✨Top Gun: Maverick✨

Series:

✨Bradley Bradshaw:

Remember You Even When I Don't: A training accident, the doctor had told him. A nasty one that led him here, laying in a hospital bed with a splitting headache and an inability to remember the woman sitting beside him. What he did know, though, was that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and you felt important to him. That, as it turns out, would become an understatement. (completed)

The Forgotten Moments: A One Shot Collection: Before he had to remember you, Bradley got to experience the whirlwind that was meeting and falling in love with you (the first time).

All stories in the collection can be read independently, but will precede or coincide with Remember You Even When I Don't.

This Love Came Back to Me: You and Bradley hadn’t ended on bad terms; truly, you stopped before the two of you could even really begin. Still, in the last seven months, you had never completely left his mind. So when you suddenly appeared in front of him at the bar, asking for a favor and pulling him into a kiss, he thought maybe it was the perfect opportunity to see if this time, things could be different. But what neither of you realized was that there’s more going on than just rekindling a lost romance, and it might not be as easy as simply just wanting it. (completed)

One Shots:

✨ Bradley Bradshaw:

A Change to Everything: Marriage wasn’t an option for you. Bradley knew this and had promised you that what you had is and would always be enough for him. A few overpriced rings wouldn’t change that, so long as you promised to love him forever without one. But he buys you one anyway, and despite every promise you made to yourself, you wonder what it would be like if maybe, just maybe, you ever decided to put it on. 

What Goes Around (Comes Around): Bradley didn’t do relationships, and neither did you. The arrangement you had worked perfectly for ten years, getting together whenever your paths crossed. But after the two of you were stationed permanently on the same squad, suddenly what you have isn’t quite enough for him anymore. It’s not until a close call in the air that he finally gathers the courage to admit it. 

To Make a House a Home: House hunting in California was proving to be a challenge. Leave it to Bradley to manage to pull off the biggest surprise you’ve ever gotten. 

The Art of Subtlety: You were quiet, almost shy, but Bradley suspected there was more to you than meets the eye. When Jake claims that it’s impossible for a woman to successfully fake an orgasm, you prove him wrong (while proving Bradley absolutely right) right there in the middle of the Hard Deck. With his world tilted on its axis at your little display, he’s left wondering: why are you so good at faking it, and how would you really sound if he’s the one bringing you pleasure?

Dancing in the Dark: Bradley was never one for clubs. Flashing lights, dance remixes of the same four songs, and overpriced watered down drinks just weren’t his thing. But you had begged him so prettily to go with you that he couldn’t help but agree. It was exactly as bad as he thought it was going to be, but when he saw how irresistible you looked on the dance floor, he decided to get his revenge in a way that left both of you satisfied but wanting more. 

Clandestine Meetings: Bradley was coming home today. Six weeks on a no-contact deployment, stuck on a carrier in the middle of some non disclosed body of water, and he’s finally coming home. Normally, you’d be bursting at the seams with happy excitement. But the two of you had left things in an...interesting place. When he’s finally standing in front of you, you can tell by his cold and dark eyes that he remembers, too. But he’s had six weeks to think of exactly how you can earn his forgiveness, and you’re all too willing to do anything it takes. 

Keep It Undercover: You and Bradley had shared a few beautiful weeks together, years after first meeting. You had been content with leaving it as a beautiful, delicious memory; something that could have been, if the stars would have aligned. Only now he was stationed in Fightertown permanently, and while he didn’t know what exactly that meant for the two of you long term, he knew what he wanted. He didn’t care about your age or that you outranked him. After all, he had always liked his girls a little bit older. 

The Over/Under: Your friends insisted that the best way to get over someone was by getting under someone else. But you had been over your ex for a long time before you ever signed the papers, and you had no intention on hooking up with anyone. Then an attractive man with a mustache that really shouldn't look as good as it does catches your eye, and you suddenly forgot why you were hesitant in the first place.

✨Javy Machado:

I Don't Love You Like I Used To: After so many years with you, Javy Machado doesn't love you like he used to. He loves you so much more. For roosterforme's #love is in the air tgm Writing Challenge!

The Double Negative Effect: Javy knows deep down after he goes into G-LOC that he’s not going to be selected for the mission. He goes to a bar on his own to drink away some of his sorrows, and while he’s there, he meets someone who is having just as rough of a time as he is. Misery loves company, and together, they cancel out the bad day the other is having, replacing it with a night they’ll remember for all the right reasons. 

And I Want To Make Her Mine: Javy thought it was too good to be true when he saw you, the girl he had crushed on for almost a year, standing in the Hard Deck. But there you were, looking just as beautiful as you always had. He thought maybe he’d finally get his chance with you after all this time. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one whose attention you caught.

Merry Christmas Mishaps: Christmas looked a little different this year, and Javy knew you were having a hard time adjusting to it. You were used to the lights and the hustle and - God help him, the snow - that came with where you had called home for so long. You had given all that up to move to California to be with him, and he decided that if he couldn’t get you back on the east coast for the holiday, maybe he could improvise and start making new traditions here together, with a few surprises along the way. 

The Great Escape: All you wanted on your wedding day was some time alone with your new husband. Luckily for you, Javy was more than game to make an escape and has just the hiding place in mind.

An Aviation Special: You had always wanted to experience Mardi Gras in New Orleans, but when it starts to go sideways thanks to your travel companions, you fear the whole trip, maybe even the whole city, has been ruined for you. But then a handsome stranger swoops in when some drunk idiot gets too handsy, and your night takes an unexpected turn for the better.

The Plus One: You couldn’t believe he was here. He had told you he would be, over and over again, but part of you had convinced yourself it was too good to be true. There was no way a man as perfect as Javy Machado would be so into you after you spent one night together, months ago, that he’d fly out to be your date to a wedding for people he’d never met before. Yet here he was, looking as good as a dream. By the end of the night you knew one thing for certain: a weekend with him would never be enough.

✨Javy Machado x Natasha Trace (Navy):

Repeated Offenses: Javy wasn’t sure what the mission was that called them back to Top Gun, but he knew if he was there, Phoenix would be too. He seeks her out that first night, knowing that it would be the same game between them as it always was. One of them was bound to get burned one of these days, but luckily for him, he’s never been afraid of playing with fire. 

✨Jake Seresin:

Flight Suit Aphrodisiac: There was something about seeing Jake in his flight suit that got to you every single time. It had always been attractive, sure, but nowadays it was like something of an aphrodisiac. It didn’t matter what you were doing or where you were; when you saw him in it, you had to have him.

Twin Fire Signs: When the majority of your squad intentionally leaves you drunk and alone at a bar, you resign yourself to finding your own way home and dealing with your wounded pride in peace. But then your phone rings, the name of the last person you expected to be calling you on a Friday night flashing on your screen. You know you shouldn’t answer, but too much tequila has never led to great decisions. 

Cowboy Resolutions: New Year’s Eve at the Hard Deck with all of your friends was a tradition, one that you loved and held close to your heart. When you and your husband decide to slip away from the crowd for a late night stroll on the beach right before midnight, you realize that neither of you had the purest of intentions when it came to wanting to get away. 

A Verbal Agreement: You hated Jake Seresin. Truly, you did. Or at least you strongly disliked him. But as it was, he did something for you that no other man could, and it kept you coming back for more. 

✨Jake Seresin x Natasha Trace (Hannix):

Hell Bent, Heaven Sent: Truthfully, Jake didn’t like anything that she made him feel. Annoyed. Inferior. Submissive. But she also made his heart speed up and his palms sweat and despite everything he felt better when she was with him. Natasha Trace made him question everything about himself.

Alli's TGM Mix & Match Blurb Party Masterlist

*I do not give permission to copy/steal, translate, or publish elsewhere*

[awriterinthenight]

"It's ok love", Part 2-Anthony Lockwood

requested: anonymous

words: 3255

warnings: reader's family being horrible, people judging her job and body and how she isn't married, slight misogyny, swearing. (I had a lot of fun writing some of the family dynamic and making up reader's story about her family and I have so much more of her back story to reveal and I'm so excited. Also all of my stories are usually female reader unless otherwise stated, or sometimes no gender is mentioned if I can, but I just prefer to write it like that) thanks for reading, enjoy. Please enjoy, my laptop decided to combust twice while writing this and this took me like 2 hours.

summary: Anthony and reader have arrived at reader's family's place. Anthony is gone for his job and reader is stuck with her family. He comes back to her crying in her room after her family dinner.

The train ride from hell finally ended with Anthony waking me up, telling me we'd arrived at our stop. I got up groggily, reaching to grab my bag, but Anthony stopped me.

"I've got it love," he said, grabbing mine and his bags, carrying them off of the train.

I couldn't help but smile at his act of service. I'd known him long enough to know there was no stopping him when it came to him helping people. He loved it. Doing acts of service for people was his love language, so I never stopped him when he did stuff like this for me.

Leaving the train, we called a cab, and I gave them the address to my parents place. I was nervous the whole ride. Mostly because of how Anthony would react to seeing how rich my family truly was. I know it sounds dumb to be embarrassed by being rich, but it was more of the fact that people would judge me for it and the fact I chose to be an agent. Everyone would always say how dumb I was for running away from such a lavish life, and how becoming an agent, potentially almost dying everyday, instead of staying safe in my family's house and wealth, was such a stupid idea. It was even worse when they would add that I only did it because I was 'rebellious' or 'just a kid' who didn't know what they were doing.

But it's the exact opposite. I'd rather be using my talent for something good than wasting it away. Why sit around doing nothing my whole life, when I can go out and help people. It felt like what they probably told Maria Anna Mozart, when they told her to stop making music, and that she had to marry someone and give up on her dream, or telling Van Gogh to just sit in his depression rather than work his way out through art.

Then again, I was only one agent amongst thousands, but I still believed I could potentially make a difference. Part of the reason people would say stuff like that to me was mostly because I was a girl. I was the oldest too, so I was expected to marry rich, find a good husband, and continue the family legacy. Not, run away at 15 and join an agency, where I could potentially die. Which is also a bad thing according to my family, since because I was the oldest I was their heir, or something like that.

I was so consumed in my self deprecating thoughts, that I didn't notice we had arrived until Anthony leaned over asking, "Is this really your family's house?" he asked, seemingly shocked by the estate and the rather vast size.

I let out a long sigh, "Yup, this is it," I confirmed, opening my door, leaving the car and walking towards the door.

"I knew you said your family was well off, but that seemed to have been an understatement," he said, breathing out a laugh at how big my family's place was.

Moving towards the front door, I take out my keys, unlocking the door, "Well my family had a decent amount of wealth on both sides, which then basically doubled when my grandparents married, then again when my mom and dad married. Then when the problem came around, they were some of the first people to create flares specialized for ghost hunting. Once that made a shit ton of profit, they then sold it making even more, so yeah my family is fucking loaded," I exclaimed, bitterly adding the last part as I unlocked the door.

"Seems like the next seven generations of your family are set for life," he joked, leaning against the wall.

I let out a small laugh, "Try more like ten maybe," I added, opening the door to the place, "And, this is only the east wing we're in. Wait till you see the entire main house."

His eyes went wide at my mention of this only being part of the place, "If this is only part of it, I can't even imagine the rest of the house," he said, in utter amazement of how my family lived.

I opened the door, letting us in as I turned on the lights, "Well, make yourself at home," I told him, walking toward the stairs in the front to head to the bedroom, "This part is actually quite small. Only two bedrooms, or actually more like one. I turned the other one into my own little space for random hobbies, so there's only one bedroom, but it'll be fine," I said, realizing we would be in the same room.

Climbing up the staircase in the entryway, we reached the 2nd floor, turning left towards the bedroom. The room was fairly big, there was a fireplace, a couple couches, a bay window, a desk covered in papers and pens I left, and the massive bed in the middle. Of course the room was painted my favorite color, and had some of the decorations I left. Alongside the posters on my wall that I didn't take down when I ran away.

I watched as Anthony took in the room, "This feels like a toned down version of you," he said, since my room at home was comprised of my favorite color walls that I begged Anthony to let me paint, more decorations than were in here which was saying something since my old room here was still somewhat fully decorated, posters on all the walls, and my room at home always had fresh flowers, since Anthony would buy them for me, even though I never asked him to.

"Well I couldn't take all my stuff when I left, so a lot of it stayed here," I told him, finally walking into the room, after just leaning against the doorway.

Anthony looked at me, then the floor, then me again, "If you don't mind me asking," he started, clearing his throat before continuing, "Why did you leave a place like this?"

I could feel myself partially freeze. I told him that I hadn't really told anyone else, but I never told him anything about why I left, or my family before I ran.

Taking in a deep breath I finally spoke, "I think that's a story for another time. Plus you have a job to get ready for," I told him, changing the subject.

He nodded, not pushing any further, "I should probably start heading out. I'll go call a cab," he said, moving closer to me before leaving, "Have fun, and don't worry about anything, okay," he told me, grabbing me by my waist, planting a soft kiss on my forehead. He rarely ever did this, only when he knew I was anxious or sad.

"Okay," I said, taking a calming breath in and out.

He then left, calling a cab, leaving when it arrived. I could hear the door close and that was when I knew I was alone for a little bit before my family showed up.

Usually before something big like this they liked to spend the day out. Letting the cooks and the rest of the staff prepare, undisturbed by my family's loudness. I took this time to unpack my clothes into the dresser, since I was gonna be here for a couple of days. Tonight was our families dinner, then tomorrow night was the actual party, and the day after would be when the immediate family stays and just congratulates my sister as we all prepare to make our departure for those leaving.

***

It had been about an hour since Anthony left when my family started to arrive. I could see through my window them entering the house, filling in one after the other. My sister getting married was a big deal to them, so everyone from my mom and dad's siblings, to their cousins, to my cousins, to great aunts twice removed, was here to celebrate.

I took a big sigh before heading down to the main house where everyone was. Making sure I looked good enough in my fairly new black dress, smoothing down my hair, and having to tone down my makeup since I was supposed to look like I wasn't wearing anything to create some illusion, or something. I don't actually know, I didn't pay attention when my mom was talking about that.

Opening the door basically alerted everyone of my presence. I entered the reception room where everyone was hanging around in, having a few drinks, and making the same small talk to the people they could and couldn't tolerate.

The first to notice me was my sister who came running at me, as if I had come back from the dead, "Oh I'm so glad you're here," she exclaimed, squeezing me so hard I think she forgot that I had to breathe.

"I'm happy to be here too, especially for you," I said, though she knew the first part was a lie, but definitely not the second part.

She finally pulled back, her eyes widening in happiness, "You have to meet my fiancé," she practically screamed, with a smile so big I'm surprised her face didn't hurt.

I smiled too, since her smile was always infectious, "I will soon, let me just make my way around the room before grandma writes me out the will for not greeting her the second I walk in," I joke, since I was probably actually already written out of multiple wills for running away.

"Okay, okay, I'll let you go, but you have too. Plus I think she'd rather give the dead hamster in the backyard more than us when she dies," my sister adds jokingly, referring to the hamster we had to bury when I was 7 and she was 5.

I take a deep breath, starting to move around the room. The second I see champagne, I quickly grab a glass to help encourage me to stay here and not just run out. Like I said, I started by greeting my grandma on my dad's side, who mentioned how I was 'too muscular' since I was an agent and being in top condition was basically a requirement if you don't like dying. My grandma on my mom's side was actually a lot nicer. Complimenting my hair, asking who my stylist was. She was never horrible, we just didn't talk much since her and my mom didn't get along well. My grandpa on my mom's side was nice too, admiring how I was an agent, and how I was in his words 'saving the world' which I thought was an overstatement.

Next came all the aunts and uncles. If I was lucky I could avoid the bad ones, or keep the small talk to a minimum, only spending time with the decent ones. On my dad's side I had three aunts and one uncle who were blood related. I caught up on some of my family's life from two of my aunts, and got more comments on how 'they could never possibly work such a vigorous job' and how 'I will one day realize how I made the wrong decision. I left those two quickly, heading to my favorite aunt who greeted me with open arms.

She filled me in on the actual family drama, who was mad at who, who divorced who, who was seeing who. She was an amazing aunt, and the only I truly remembered fully by name, the others I only really remembered when asked, or if they were at an event with me. But my aunt Kathy was amazing and always slipped me a couple of extra bucks, or nice shoes.

Soon I had to leave her and head towards more of my mom's side. My mom's side was...well...scary to say the least. They very much believed that I shouldn't be working, especially in a job like being an agent, so I knew I was in for some passive aggressive comments. My mom's side had three uncles, one of them being adopted, and two aunts who were like Madeline and Louise. They always gossiped, but not in a fun way like my aunt Kathy. More in a deceitful way, both of them were on their 4th divorce. I stopped keeping track at some point. Both talked about how my job was a crazy thing to do, and how they remember their teenage rebellious phase.

I left them before I got a headache, moving onto talking with my uncles. Besides that the two blood ones were a tad misogynistic, they were okay. They mostly talked about business, and how sales for equipment for agents was at an all time high, to which I just smiled and nodded, not really knowing what they were talking about.

The adopted one was my favorite uncle. While he wasn't blood related, he was the best in the family. He was always joking, and talked about how his sister was also an agent before losing her talent and becoming a secretary. We talked for a little bit till I spotted the person I was looking for.

My cousin Jade. I found her semi-hidden behind a plant, holding two glasses of champagne, mouthing the words to 'Maneater' as she hid her device that was playing the music she was listening to. I walked up behind her asking, "Are you listening to Maneater at a family party," which startled her.

"Christ, I thought you were one of the aunts coming to scold me," she said, relieved it wasn't one of our aunts, "And yes, it was. Its better than listening to stuffy small talk all night."

"You're not wrong," I said, agreeing with her statement, "Then again, drinking the fountain water is better than small talk." We continued our conversation for a while till we were all called for dinner.

The main dining room was big enough for both my mom and dad's side, plus their partners, and some of the older cousins from each side. The younger kids were sent to the other smaller dining room, where they were served their own stuff, and away from all the adult talk.

Dinner started off somewhat nicely. I stayed talking to Jade, who was next to me, my grandma from my dad's side on my other side, but she ignored me for the most part. Everything was going great, conversation was flowing, the food was nice, and everyone was giving my sister nice compliments and congratulations.

It was perfect, until it wasn't. My grandma who I was sitting next to had to pipe up and say, "You should take less food, no man would want someone built like you," while I was grabbing another piece of chicken.

Almost everyone either quieted down or went silent as her voice projected through the room. My uncle soon defended me, "There's no need to talk like that, let the girl eat." Sadly though that wasn't the end of that.

"Well, if we let her keep being like that then no man will marry her. Especially at this age, her sister is already getting married, and she doesn't even have a boyfriend," she said, meaning every word she said. I was only 20, my sister was 19. It was a one almost two year gap, yet she was still getting married young and before me. I chose my career over marriage, something I apparently wasn't supposed to do but did anyway.

Now others started talking. My two gossiping aunts said how, "Someone would probably marry me. I have to do something once my "talent" fades," putting talent in air quotes, as if my ability was nothing, or how, "Maybe he won't be rich like she was supposed to marry, but maybe she can trick some somewhat handsome guy."

"She's the one who's supposed to inherit their fortune?"

"I'd rather live in a swamp than look like her."

"At least I can get a boyfriend, and not have a job. She can't even get one and her job is just sad." My cousins said, insulting me like I wasn't there.

Everything felt surreal. I could feel Jade rubbing my arm trying to comfort me as she was talking to me, and on the other side of me was my grandma berating me for basically just existing. All the chatter around me of everyone pointing out my mistakes, and how I wasn't married felt overwhelming, making me want to cry.

What was worse though was how my parents didn't say anything. At least my sister tried to shush people and get them to stop. My parents did nothing though, maybe even added to the chatter.

I eventually got up, leaving the room. Tears stinging my eyes, the feeling almost as bad as the one my family made me feel. Jade tried grabbing my arm to get me to not leave, but she let me go, not following so i could have my space.

The second I walked into my part of the house and into my room, I could feel the tears pouring. I was leaning against my bed, trying to let everything process fully.

I didn't think I was that bad looking. I was usually complimented on my style or looks, even hit on once or twice, which I really didn't like, but still I thought I was still decent looking. My job wasn't the worst either. Especially at my age, most agents lost their talent by now, but I still had mine and it was working better than ever. Yet, no matter how much I tried to reassure myself, their comments still got to me.

I didn't even hear Anthony enter the house, or even my room. But the next thing I knew, he was right in front of me, holding me, asking what was wrong. I told him everything. I don't think I'd seen someone more shocked before.

He shook his head, looking me in my eyes, "Your family is wrong. You're gorgeous, don't listen to them," he said, trying to comfort me, "And, you're one of the best agents in the world, and I say that with full confidence. You're amazing, please don't listen to them darling." He held me for a little bit longer, continuing to comfort me.

Soon he got up, getting ready for bed, as I did the same. We got situated in bed for the night. There was only one bed, but we decided to be mature about it and just sleep in the same bed. It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, and it's just for two nights.

We were originally somewhat far apart from each other, before I turned towards him, "Anthony," I said, my voice rather small.

He turned towards me, "Yes, darling," he said, his voice low and tired.

I took a breath before I asked, "Did you really mean what you said?" thinking that maybe he only said it to be nice.

"I meant every word, love," he told me, moving his hand to wrap around my waist pulling me close to him, "Why don't you get some sleep. Don't worry about it, I'll take care of it in the morning," he told me.

I didn't know what he meant, but I was tired from the day's events, and drifted off into sleep in his arms. He held me close the entire night, my head on his chest, with his arms wrapped around my waist.

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@almost-gabrielle @scarlett-8 @archiveoftara

[catmiemy]

Another Chance to Live Final Part (Ana Maria Crnogorčević x Reader)

Summary: Ana and you are facing some big changes.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

A/N: I'm actually very proud of myself for finishing this story relatively fast. And it was a lot of fun to write :)

Thank you to everyone that stuck around till the end. I hope you enjoy this last part!

Of course you didn’t just trust your parents to respect the boundaries you had set in place; that had never been their strong suit after all. Once you had successfully weathered the first onslaught of emotions, you thought about it more carefully and together with Ana put a few precautions in place.

For one you informed the staff at Real that none of your family members should be granted access if they came by to see you. A wise decision, as it turned out. Only a few days later your mother showed up, arguing for so long that she had to be escorted off the premises by security personnel.

You also basically moved in with Ana. No one from your family knew where she lived, so they couldn’t just drop by like they could at your apartment. Another good call as you learnt when your neighbors told you that they had almost called the police because a man fitting your father’s description had been standing in front of the house for so long.

All of this made your guilt kick into overdrive and you were grateful for your girlfriend’s support. She never told you what to do, she was even hesitant to tell you what she would do in your place, but Ana was always there to listen and help you keep apart what you truly wanted from what you felt you should do.

While things with your family were at an all time low, you were incredibly happy with Ana, and practically living together was a welcome change in pace. Both of you were committed to making each other smile with small gestures, so your everyday life was filled with much more happiness than ever before. 

Ana loved to start your day off with a big smile by turning your coffee into a small piece of art, constantly trying out new foam designs. And it didn’t matter if they turned out right or not, you appreciated the effort, and attempting to guess what your girlfriend had been going for was half the fun.

You knew Ana felt the same about something you were doing to brighten her day: learning some Swiss German words. Which wasn’t easy because you couldn’t just use any old translator, you had to invest some time to find the correct words. And often times you failed horribly at pronouncing them, making your girlfriend giggle while she was trying to decipher what you were saying. That in turn always got you laughing as well, which made it even harder to pronounce anything properly.  

The biggest laughing fit set off by your Swiss German attempts occurred when you very proudly asked Ana if she could give you a Schmützeli. You didn’t get quite the reaction you hoped for, a kiss; instead your girlfriend was staring at you, and you couldn’t tell if she was amused or annoyed.

“Wait, does it not mean kiss? Did I mess this up? I’m so sorry if I said something offensive,” you apologized frantically, already pulling out your phone to look at your sources again. You had been so sure, you had even double-checked this.

At that point Ana began laughing, so hard that she couldn’t even say anything. Now it was your turn to stare at her, wondering what was so funny. It was a huge relief though; it couldn’t have been anything too bad if your girlfriend found it so amusing.

After a moment you couldn’t help but join the laughter. You didn’t know what you were laughing about, but Ana’s laughter was simply infectious.

Once your girlfriend had calmed down, she explained it to you still a little out of breath, “Okay, so it’s not even really that funny, but Schmützeli isn’t a word you would use with a partner. At least not where I’m from. It’s more for like small kisses between family members or friends. And it just really caught me off guard.”

You silently agreed, this wasn’t really that funny, and you were still a bit confused why it had made your girlfriend laugh so hard. Then again you were always happy to make Ana laugh, so you weren’t going to complain. And you definitely kept using the word again every once in a while because it amused her every time.  

There were other things you did for each other, like Ana playing the guitar for you, sometimes even singing a song you requested, which made you all chocked up whenever she did. Or you taking pictures of small beautiful things you saw in your day to day life to show to your girlfriend in the evening, eager to share the beauty you had encountered with her.

You also did your best to make your everyday life as special as possible, savoring the time you got together. A part of this was ensuring that you weren’t just spending time together by being around each other, but also by doing things and actively spending time together whenever your crazy schedules allowed it. And sometimes even if they didn’t, carving out time when you didn’t necessarily have it.

It was a good thing your personal life brought you so much happiness because the same thing couldn’t be said about your work. To be honest thinking of football as merely that, work, was painful enough by itself. Sure, it was, but it also always had been so much more than just a job.

Sometimes you still debated if you should just retire and try to find something else that would spark some sort of passion again. However, at the end of the day you weren’t ready to give up on what had been your life’s biggest passion so far.

So you resigned yourself to this reality, where the joy you once found in football only showed itself on very rare occasions. And whenever it did, you clung to it with ferocity to tie you over until the next minuscule moment.

Then, completely out of the blue, you got an offer from another team. It hadn’t even crossed your mind to look around for another club; leaving Madrid had never been something you considered. It hadn’t been something you thought you would ever want to do.

But when you were approached by the managers of Tigres Femenil, you realized all of the sudden that it might be exactly what you wanted. It helped that it was the team Jenni was playing for, so you knew if you actually decided to go through with this, you wouldn’t be totally alone on another continent.

That wasn’t the appeal though, that was merely a helpful factor. What really made you want to do it was the fact that it would be your choice, only yours and no one else’s, not your family’s and not your club’s. It would be you deciding what to do with your life, instead of rolling with the punches others kept throwing at you.

Was that a good enough reason to move halfway across the world, though? Especially since there was one obvious reason keeping you in Madrid, Ana. The thought of not seeing her daily was hard to bare. Then again it probably wasn’t healthy that she was the only good thing in your life at the moment, that was too much pressure to place on one person. So perhaps it would be better for your relationship in the long run if you decided to do this?

On the other hand, Mexico was a long way from Madrid. Would Ana be okay with doing long distance or would this be the end of your relationship? Because in that case you wouldn’t do it.

As was in your nature you drove yourself crazy thinking about every possible outcome either of your choices could have. You did your best to not let on that something was bothering you, but Ana must have noticed anyway because she began acting a bit odd herself, switching between being weirdly distant and overly clingy.

You had almost reached the point of finally broaching the subject, when your girlfriend took the first step. In the morning before leaving for your respective training sessions, Ana nervously asked if you could talk later that night. Of course you agreed, thinking that she wanted to ask you what had been on your mind lately.

Consequently you spent the entire day agonizing about how you could put your thoughts and feelings into words. You made countless drafts in your mind, even though you knew that you wouldn’t be able to remember them in the moment. At least they made you feel a bit better prepared.

Ana was back at your apartment before you and she set everything up nicely with candles and flowers she had gotten for you. You appreciated how she went out of her way to make sure you knew everything was okay. Every once in a while you still got in your head, worried that your girlfriend would leave you if you made on small mistake.

Once you had both settled down, Ana took a deep breath, blurting out, “There is something I have to tell you.”

This took you by surprise. You had been under the assumption she had set this all up to get you to talk. And you instantly began wondering what your girlfriend had to tell you. Naturally your first thought was that she might break up with. However, even you had to admit that preparing a romantic candle light dinner would be a very strange move if you wanted to break up with someone.

“Oh, what is it? I actually have something I need to tell you as well,” you replied, trying to keep your worries out of your voice.

“Really?” Ana exclaimed in surprise. This in turn surprised you, you didn’t think you had been doing a good job at keeping your over thinking a secret.

“You can go first,” your girlfriend quickly offered.

Normally you wouldn’t have accepted such an offer, especially not when Ana had been the one to set all this up to talk to you about something. However, something in her tone sounded almost pleading, as if she desperately wanted you to go first. And begging from your girlfriend was something you could never resist.

“Well, I’m guess I’m just going to come out and say it,” you started, taking a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever might be Ana’s reaction, “I’ve gotten an offer from another club. And I didn’t think it was something I would be interested in, but now that I have it, I realize that I really am. You know how I feel at Real, so this might be my chance to enjoy football again. But then I also don’t want to leave you alone here because I love you and…”

Ana had been listening to you rattling on for a moment, her face unreadable, until she interrupted you sounding oddly excited, “Wait, you’re thinking about leaving Madrid?”

You frowned at her happiness. It was one thing to be excited about something good happening to your partner, but being so happy about them moving away seemed weird to you, and a little painful.

“Wow, no reason to be so happy about getting rid of me,” you mumbled, avoiding your girlfriend’s eyes.

“What? No!” Ana cried out, reaching over to grab your hand. “That’s not what this is about at all. The thing is that I too have gotten offers from other clubs and I didn’t really consider them, but then a few days ago Atleti told me that they wouldn’t renew my contract, so I have no choice but to leave.”

“And I have been feeling so bad about it because just like you said, I didn’t want to leave you behind here either. But if we’re both leaving, it’s a totally different scenario. Sure, long distance is going to suck, but it won’t be forever and at least this way we hopefully both end up in places where we feel happier than at our current clubs.”

Suddenly Ana’s behavior over the last few days made a lot more sense. You had thought she was acting weird because she had picked up on your distress, but really she had been dealing with something herself. Being dropped by yet another team and faced with having to upend her entire life again.

“Ugh, I didn’t think I could hate Atleti more than I already do! How stupid of them to let you go,” you grumbled.

Your girlfriend blinked a couple of times, a smile appearing on her face, “That’s what you’re focusing on right now?”

“Yeah! I’m really annoyed with them! But also…Why didn’t you tell me?”

It wasn’t something you could really complain about since it was very much exactly what you would have done in Ana’s position. Your girlfriend was much better though, when it came to opening up and discussing her struggles. So the fact that she hadn’t told you before didn’t sit right with you.

Ana sighed, rubbing her forehead. “I made up my mind so many times to just come right out and say it, but every time I lost my courage in the last second. Because at it turns out it’s not so easy to tell your girlfriend who you love very much and who has a hard time at work and with her family that you’re moving to another country.”

“Oh.”

You understood that, it was the thing you had been worried about, that Ana felt too much pressure to bring joy to your life because so little else did. Under different circumstances this might have been harder to swallow, but in the current situation it actually helped. It left not a single doubt in your mind, that leaving Madrid was the right choice.

“So, what are your options?” You asked to move on the conversation.

“There are different clubs in Switzerland I could go to, but I don’t really see myself doing that. It would be nice to be close to my family and maybe I should do it to help further women’s football in Switzerland, but it feels more like something I should do, not something I want, you know?”

You knew precisely what she meant. In fact for so long you had made all decisions based on exactly that feeling of ‘I should’, so you were happy Ana didn’t plan on making the same mistake. And you tried to show her that by nodding encouragingly.

“However, the other option is pretty far away, so I just want you to know that no decision has been made yet, and I really want to know what you think. Because if long distance on that scale is a deal breaker for you, I won’t do it,” your girlfriend continued.

Again you nodded, hung up on the fact that you had been having exactly the same thoughts. So as far as distance went this would either work out well for the two of you or Ana would really end up on the other side of the world. What even was on the other side of Mexico? You cursed yourself for your geography knowledge that was clearly lacking.

“Okay, so, the other option is Tigres Femenil. Jenni’s team in Mexico,” your girlfriend rushed out, her eyes flicking between you and the table, as if Ana was torn between wanting to study every miniscule reaction you might show, while also trying to avoid jus tthat.

“What?”

This had to be a joke! Ana probably learnt about your offer from then and decided to play a prank on you. Maybe Jenni had heard about it and told your girlfriend to do this, that would be a Jenni thing to do.

Except not really, though. Your older friend was known for playing pranks and amusing herself at the expense of others, but there was a clear line that she never crossed. And playing with someone’s heart and feelings was on the “don’t”-side of that line.

“I’m sorry! Like I said I haven’t decided yet and if it’s too far then I’ll go to Switzerland. I’m sure that will be great,” Ana apologized frantically. 

“No, wait, that’s not why I reacted like this. The thing is my offer is also from Tigres Femenil, so it just seems a bit unbelievable? People don’t get this lucky in real life,” you explained, disbelief still coloring your tone and set firmly on your face.

“You’re joking right?” Your girlfriend inquired, apparently also having some issues fully accepting this miraculous coincidence as true.

“No, I’m not. They offered me a one year contract with the option for additional years if I like it there and fit well into the team.” Hopefully the added details would make it easier for Ana to believe this was actually happening.

After that the two of you stayed silent for a while, your hearts and minds needed some time to let themselves open up and accept that you were getting much more than you ever hoped for.

You reached that conclusion almost at the same time, huge grins spreading across both of your faces and then there was nothing holding you back anymore. Ana jumped up from her chair first and you swiftly followed suit.

Mere seconds later you basically jumped into your girlfriend’s arms, thinking in the back of your mind that this was exactly how you would celebrate a goal if you would play for the same time. Your heart jumped happily when you realized that you might get a chance to do precisely that next season.

“I’m so happy!” Ana squealed into your ear and you echoed that sentiment.

Moving abroad and playing for another team had sounded excited, but doing so with your girlfriend? That seemed more like a dream than anything else.

Ana and you stayed wrapped up in each other’s arms for a good while, just basking in the happiness. It was a welcome change from the usual reasons you spent so long in each other’s embrace. Normally you did so because one of you, more often than not you, was sad and needed comfort. Now there was not an ounce of sadness present, the air was electrified by excitement and the possibility of everything that was to come.

---

Of course you didn’t decide that night to accept the transfer, not legally at least, but emotionally you definitely did. Still, like the reasonable adults you were, you thought it through, gathered some more information before officially making the choice you had already made the moment you learnt both of you could go to Mexico together.

You called Jenni together to tell her the good news and she was overjoyed. Although if the amount of teasing you had to endure during one measly phone call was anything to go by, you were going to have to put up with a lot next year. You didn’t mind, though. Also you were aware that Ana would put a stop to it if she thought it was getting out of hand. You could as well, Jenni would listen if you seriously told her to stop, but you knew yourself well enough to know that you wouldn’t.

After that Ana and you focused on wrapping up everything in Madrid, sorting out your apartments and such. There was one particular subject you avoided like the plague, your family. You couldn’t leave for Mexico without at least telling them and try one more time, but you also weren’t ready to face them again in the slightest.

Finally you reached a point in time where you could no longer postpone it. Your girlfriend offered multiple times to go with you, but you declined every time, much to Ana’s chagrin. In the end she decided that she would at least drive you and wait for you in a nearby parking lot. You gladly accepted that suggestion.

“And please leave if it gets too much, yeah? Or call me and I will come get you,” Ana reminded you resolutely, still reluctant to let go of your hand.

“Don’t worry, tesoro, I’ll be fine. I don’t think much will come off today, but I just have to try one more time before we leave,” you explained. And it was true; you didn’t have high hopes for your conversation with your family. But even so you ended up being disappointed.

It started with a very frosty greeting, your father leading you into the living room where the rest of your family was sitting. You had chosen that day specifically because you had thought no one else would be over, but apparently you were out of luck. All of your aunts and uncles were assembled, staring at you disapprovingly.

You swallowed roughly, wetting your lips nervously when it became apparent that you would have to lead this conversation. This had been expected, you had even practiced a bit at home with Ana, but now in the moment your mind felt terrifyingly blank. With everyone glaring at you the only thing you could think of was to apologize. And that was the one thing you remembered you didn’t want to do.

“Did you just come here to stare at us?” Your mother questioned unfriendly.  

“No, I…This isn’t so easy. You’re making this really hard for me,” you muttered

“We’re making it hard for you? Do you have any idea what you’ve done to us? Just completely cutting us out of your life because of some random girl you met a few months ago,” your mother accused you.

The guilt and self-doubt threatened to consume you, but you tried to focus on your anger instead. At least the anger would allow you to say what needed to be said, even if you couldn’t lay it out as calmly and clearly as you wanted.

“See, this is what I mean. Everything is always my fault and you never listen to what I have to say,” you defended yourself. “And Ana isn’t just some random girl. I can’t stand that you talk like this about someone I love, someone who I’m pretty sure is the love of my life.”

Your family exchanged meaningful glances, the sentiment on their faces clear as day; they thought you were being ridiculous or childish or dramatic. Three adjectives they loved using to describe you.

“You’re getting too emotional again, niña, that has always been your problem. How do you expect us to take you serious like this? And think about this, you say we’re always acting as if you’re the problem, but in reality it’s you doing that. You always blame everything on us, your horrible family. Poor you with parents, aunts and uncles that support you!”

Condescension was something you were used to, and it had always made you feel very tiny and incredibly mad at the same time. You were an adult for crying out loud, not a little kid. And still in that moment you felt exactly like that.

“Fine, you know what, I can see that this is totally pointless! I don’t even know why I thought I should try again. So I’m just going to tell you the one thing you need to know; once this season is over I’ll go to Mexico to play there. So I guess, see you never?” You yelled, turning around and stomping out of your childhood home, without giving your family any chance to reply. What was the point?

Tears were already streaming down your face as you ran down the street to where Ana was waiting. Your girlfriend saw you coming; she had been keeping an eye out for you practically from the moment you had kissed her goodbye.

When she saw you rushing towards her, Ana’s heart broke. She had hoped this would go better, but your demeanor and the fact that you were back so soon told her everything she needed to know.

Ana quickly clambered out of the car to meet you with open arms. You fell into them, allowing yourself a moment to completely lean into your girlfriend and absorb some strength from her. Not too long though, you didn’t want to risk anyone catching up with you.

“Come on, let’s go,” you requested, already moving to the passenger’s side.

The drive home was mostly silent, your girlfriend held your hand whenever she didn’t need both of them to drive, and only asked you in the very beginning if you were ready to talk. You just shook your head in response. First you would have some more crying to do, before you could even hope to use words.

And you did exactly that, once again safely tucked away in your girlfriend’s arms. You couldn’t wait to get to a point in your life where you didn’t need so much comfort anymore.

“How are you feeling?” Ana prompted once she noticed you were ready to talk. She had seen you biting your cheek, contemplating how to start the conversation and decided to help you out with questions.

“I didn’t have much hope to begin with, but apparently I still had some that could be crushed. And also…,” you stopped, uncertain if you should continue. It felt like you kept bringing up the same things; shouldn’t you get over them at some point?

“Also?”

There was nothing but love and concern on your girlfriend’s face. You didn’t have to worry about her judging you, this was a safe space.

“I’m so annoyed with myself. I couldn’t even say much before I ran away. I can just hear them calling me a dramatic little girl who runs away as soon as things get though”, you gritted out.

Ana tensed at your harsh words towards yourself and she forced herself to count to three before answering, not wanting to sound too intense. There was however nothing she could do about the emotions lingering in her voice.

“Please stop listening to their voices in your head. I don’t think removing yourself from a bad situation is running away, that’s a smart move really. You need to take care of yourself.”

You nodded thoughtfully, “You know I’ve been thinking about that and realized I often put their needs and wants over mine. But I guess putting others first only works if they do the same. Otherwise if I always put them first, but they never put me first, I’m just always going to end up last, right? I think that’s what’s been happening all my life and I’m done with it!”

“Absolutely! If anything your parents should be putting you, their child, first. That’s what my mom said when I talked about it with her. She also said some other things, but I’m not sure if you want to hear them or if it’ll just make you sad.”

Ana studied you carefully, every sign of pain embedded in your body hurting her as well. She hated how that you had to deal with this, so the last thing she wanted to do was to add any pain to it.

“No, please, tell me. I think it will be helpful, hearing what an actual good parent thinks about all of this,” you requested.

You had only met Ana’s parents twice before, but they had been everything you wanted your own family to be. They were excited to see their daughter, but expressed that without making her feel guilty for not being around more. And they had welcomed you with open arms, clearly very pleased that Ana had found a special someone to share her life with.

“She also said that nothing makes her happier than seeing us, her kids, living our best life. Not some life my parents pictured for us, but the life we choose. She can’t really understand why so many people try to force their kids to be something they’re not. According to her slowly getting to meet your children’s truest self is one of the biggest joys of them growing up.”

Your eyes filled with tears again causing your girlfriend distress. You had been sitting opposite each other, hands intertwined in between you, but now Ana pulled you into her embrace again.

“See, I knew I shouldn’t have said anything,” your girlfriend cried out.

You shook your head, “I wanted to hear that, I needed to hear that. It makes me feel less unreasonable and ungrateful.”

Ana gently kissed the top of your head, rubbing comforting circles on your back. “You’re anything but, you’re absolutely amazing.”

The longer you were with your girlfriend and the more she told you things like these, the easier it became to believe them. It wasn’t easy or natural yet, but you found yourself questioning your old beliefs much more often.

You didn’t speak more about it that evening, indulging in some self care instead. However, a few days later you recognized that it was still bothering you. There was no way you would try again, but it also didn’t feel right to shut the door to your family completely.

Surprisingly when you brought it up to Ana, one day after training when you were cuddling on the couch, you practically on top of your girlfriend, she informed you that she had been thinking about that as well.

“How about you set up an email account just for them? This way you can check it every once in a while when you feel up to it, or I can even check it if you prefer. That would allow them to contact you if they have a change of heart, but you aren’t constantly bombarded with unwanted messages.”

A huge weight was lifted from your heart when you heard this suggestion. That was precisely what you wanted, some small gap left open, but nothing that would affect you in your everyday life. The last thing you wanted was to constantly get attacked by hurtful messages.

You placed a few kisses everywhere on your girlfriend’s face, uttering one word between each kiss,”You. Are. The. Best. Girlfriend. In. The. World. And. I. Love. You. So. Much.”

Ana happily accepted your kisses. “So, no second thoughts about moving to Mexico?” She inquired cautiously.

“Not a single one, I’m so excited for it, and I won’t let my family ruin it. Plus it would be the same if I stayed here. If anything being not only in another country, but on another continent might actually be good for me.”

“Good, because I’m very excited about it,” your girlfriend announced with a big smile.

“Me too,” you agreed.

In fact you couldn’t wait to start that adventure with Ana. You had never allowed yourself to be an adventurous person, telling yourself, or really being told by your family, that you were anything but.

However, now you realized that you did have an adventurous streak and it was high time you used it. For too long you had lived the life everyone else wanted you to live, but now you were getting another chance at life, at the life you truly wanted.

You didn't even wait until you moved to Mexico. A few days before leaving, you dragged Ana to a hairdresser, stating that both of you should change up your look to start over fresh.

What you didn't expect though, was for your girlfriend to decide she wanted to color her hair pink. You had thought about something more along the lines of cutting your hair a little shorter.

But then Ana announced with a big grin that she was going pink, and you made a split second decision, telling the hairdresser to whip up some purple hair dye for you.

And that's how the two of your started off your new life, one of you pink haired and the other one purple. You loved the way it looked and couldn't care less when pretty much the first thing out of Jenni's mouth when she picked you up from the airport was, "Where are you two going? A five year old's birthday party?"

"Shut up, Jenni, you're just jealous of us," Ana retorted.

Jenni rolled her eyes, "Maybe, but I get a feeling you're going to help me get over that by annoying me with your lovey-doveyness."

"Absolutely," you agreed, pulling your girlfriend against yourself and kissing her passionately.

"Fine! I'll stop if you stop!" Jenni exclaimed, grabbing one hand from the both of you and marching you towards the exit. "Bienvenida a México, chicas!"

[capobegone]

Unhinged Kimetsu Academy Headcanons

-Muzan and Kagaya are cousins. They despise each other. They are forced to be civil when the extended family gets together around the holidays, and have an unspoken agreement that they have to pretend to get along for the sake of their relatives. Kagaya is much better at this than Muzan. Amane holds her tongue, but she and Kagaya talk mad shit in the car on the way home.

-Mitsuri is going to art school, and desperately wants to student-teach in Tengen’s art class. He always refuses, mainly out of a very warranted fear that his students will like her better than him. 

-When Kyojuro’s hearing is having an especially bad day, he can really struggle to speak to Obanai, who is soft spoken and wears a mask, so Kyojuro cannot read his lips. They will get stuck in loops of “what? Sorry, what?”, and Kyojuro feels bad about making Obanai take his mask off, so sometimes he’ll ask Obanai to write things down or just sign to him instead.

-When it gets especially cold outside, Tanjiro will force Inosuke to accept his coat by yammering about how much he appreciated him and how sad he would be if Inosuke caught a cold. If he gets flustered and giddy enough, Inosuke will agree to wear the coat so Tanjiro will be happy.

-During Zenitsu’s first week at the academy, he referred to the Ubuyashikis as “Beauty and the Beast”, and was overheard by Amane. Upon reporting this to Kagaya, she was shocked to find that instead of calling for discipline, Kagaya laughed his ass off for ten minutes straight and immediately adopted the nicknames. To this day, he still calls her Beauty when trying to tease her, and they have matching keychains of the enchanted rose on their work bags.

-Because he is polite, respectful, and capable of beating a grown man’s ass into the pavement if needed, many girls will approach Hakuji for protection if they are scared to walk home alone. One time he escorted Nezuko home when Tanjiro had a doctor’s appointment, and Kie rewarded him with enough bread to last him and Koyuki a week.

-Hakuji is mortified by the way he used to harass Kyojuro for a fight as a middle schooler. After marrying Koyuki, he has cleaned up his ways and become quite the gentleman, and he copes by lying to himself that the teachers have forgotten all about it. Unbeknownst to him, Kyojuro is quite excited for Hakuji to graduate so they can finally have a good old spar between martial artists.

-The Ubuyashikis are fully aware that Nakime is a spy for Kibutsuji. Kagaya lets her stay, because she has never once uncovered anything remotely useful, and he knows that she’s just a bit down on her luck and looking for a place to belong. He has faith that someday she’ll realize the error of her ways and abandon Muzan’s regime of terror. Amane is not convinced, and actively takes any chance she can get to thwart Nakime’s casual espionage.

-Tengen loves to watch anime, being the art nerd and flashy bastard that he is. His favorite is Jojo’s Bizzare Adventure, and he often tries to peer pressure Kyojuro into watching it. Kyojuro tends to have a hard time following what on earth is happening in that show, but he does enjoy some of the more tame ones.

-Following the Halloween festival, Kokushibo developed a casual interest in cooking. He’s gotten quite good with a bit of practice. Rumor has it that he makes an extremely good curry, and it’s become Yoriichi’s favorite.

y’all I have so many thoughts about this lmfaooo somebody SEDATE ME

[minzis]

Because It Was You

Art Credits: Victoria by Fritz Schaper

•┈୨A Simon Riley One-Shot୧┈•

✦❘༻Summary: Stuck in a sense of saudade Simon finds himself unable to come to terms with the reality of you slowly falling out of love with him.

✦❘༻Tags: Pure angst <3 2.3k words.

✦❘༻Author’s Note: I listened to “Waiting Room” by Phoebe Bridgers while writing if you’d like to listen as well! I just aim to hurt people as much as possible because what is life without deliciously hurtful angst :3

•┈୨♡୧┈•

Ghost knew he wasn’t that good of a man, he always felt like you were just to good for him. A pretty face and a pretty voice, everything about you was beauty in its purest form for him. How he managed to have you in the first place alone was astounding, a miracle in his eyes. You were everything he was not, a sweetness so sweet it was like a daily sugar rush. Him not deserving you was the only thing that ever plagued his mind. How could a woman like you love a man like him?

The type of woman they put on the cover of vogue, the type to have poems written about and for them. So for a beauty to haven falling for the beast he did everything he could to make you happy. No matter what you asked he’d have it done because if it made you happy then it made him happy.

You called him having a bad day at work? That’s okay he’ll just bring you a handwritten card and the food you talked about craving last week! Your sick he’ll bring every medicine there possibly is excluding the one you said you didn’t like cause it made your head hurt. Even if it was late at night he’d make the drive because it was you.

You felt lonely while he was away, that’s fine he got you two little puppies. You named one Grim after the first time you met joking he looked like a Grim Reaper. He laughed over the phone when you rambled about names he said he didn’t like it but truly he liked whatever you did. If you liked blue he loved blue and if you hated red then he despised red. His world moved just to circle around you every day and night felt like it was for you.

He never bought you flowers he always got you plants because you said they lasted a lifetime like the one you planned to spend with him. Apartment cluttered to the point you might as well call it a Garden House. His shelf littered with little things you had given him. “It reminded me of you,” you’d say with the cutest smile he’d swear he had ever seen, it was humbling.

Picking you up from work in the rain or snow since the day you said you were often scared to drive in it yourself, if he couldn’t pick you up himself he’d send a driver. There were many times where he couldn’t always be there so he tried what he could do to make it feel less empty. Outings with friends using his card insisting it was nothing compared to the millions of things he’d do for you. Gentle messages awkwardly formed but enough to show he still cared despite being thousands of miles away.

He liked to think he noticed fairly early at least subconsciously but maybe he ignored it cause it might hurt less then. The look in your eyes faltering ever so slightly as you looked at him. Maybe he knew before you did in many ways more then one. What could he do? What had he done that was so wrong? Should he have looked at you more? Hadn’t he loved you enough?

If you still came home every night to him it was enough, it should’ve been enough but he couldn’t help but want more, crave more. He knew how selfish it was but he didn’t care because it was you. It always was you and always would be you. It killed him, truly killed him in ways he didn’t even realize. How could he ever love if it wasn’t you? He didn’t know how, you taught him how beautiful love could be and how destroying it could be.

You’d come home with a bright smile hug at him the same as you always did but it never felt the same. Not once he knew but maybe it was some childish fairy-tail his love was enough for both of you. They always warn you not to trust strangers or watch for cars before crossing the road. But they don’t teach you about the pretty girls with soft voices from the heavens as if to answer the prayers he made. They don’t teach you how to let them go and to stop loving.

He felt stupid for beating at what would be considered a dead horse, he couldn’t help but try though couldn’t he? He knew you’d never cheat that just not who you are. But he also knew you cared too much for him even if it meant sticking around when you didn’t want too. He knew you were just too good of a person to break his heart like that and he took advantage of it even though it felt horrible it didn’t feel as horrible as losing you.

But seeing the sullen look on you face everyday pained him more then he thought it would. He felt foolish and stupid like the times Johnny would rant about love and how he knew Simon would eventually find someone. He told him he never would, because who could ever love someone like him? He didn’t tell him the other half though seemed deeper then he wanted to go with him.

He tried to do more no matter what it costed him, if he could give you everything he would’ve without hesitation or a single doubt. More calls, more gifts, more affection words he had to choke up because he knew it was only to tape up his tattered heart. He knew every stitch in the book but how was he supposed to stitch up a breaking heart?

He’d take you on dates the day after he’d return from deployment almost like insurance it’d make you stay longer, love him longer. But it never seemed to do what it did before, yeah you laughed and smiled but did you mean it? Did you mean it when you said you loved him? He wasn’t sure anymore, he had always been good at reading people from a glance but he lost that power at times when he had to look at you. Then again he probably chose to unsee what he seen every time he dared to stare long enough in your eyes to realize he was losing you.

It wasn’t a future he had foreseen coming one, one he hadn’t planned an outcome for. He never wanted kids before but with you he felt like he could try, it felt like a life he could have. A version of life in where he was happy with what he had. He never truly had a plan for the chance you would leave him one day, under the belief his love could be enough. You had been together for over a year or two now so he let his guard down, he let himself be vulnerable for the first time in a very long time. It was very apparent the life he planned with you wasn’t going to happen since the first day you leaned back from his kiss.

Restless nights he spent out on deployment in fear when he came home you weren’t going to be there. A feeling that resonated deep in his bones that you were going to up and leave. He hated it all every second he felt helpless like the same child who was still scared of ghosts. It all caught up fairly quickly with his work, he was either ferociously vicious or barely stumbling through the day. It almost got him killed on more then one occasion.

He couldn’t ever bring himself to tell you whenever he got injured cause deep down he knew you’d just feel even more guilty then you already did. Sure you hadn’t done anything but you had done more by doing nothing. He was either getting more injuries or racking up an inhumane amount of kills. Kills that were unnecessary and downright cruel but he hadn’t cared when it was the only outlet he could find. He felt sick with himself spending hours at the sink scrubbing his hands before he dared to ever touch you with hands like his. The blood never came off though.

He sighed shaky hands wrapped around the edges of some shitty sink in another safe house he couldn’t remember the name of. Fingers clung at the edges of his mask tugging it off. He stared in the mirror for what felt like hours at a face he couldn’t recognize anymore. He was almost glad you fell for this face and not the horrid mask. The thin layer between who Simon and Ghost was, he already knew Ghost was unlovable but he had hopes for Simon.

He tried to be a better man with substance one deserving of your time and love. But you didn’t do that, you had loved both parts of him he tried so hard to separate. He began to hold the belief that every part of him he wrote off could possible be loved. Parts of him you called imperfectly beautiful because even if he had come home deeply stained in blood he was still good. And you made him feel that way for a longtime so the thoughts of losing that were never going to go over well.

Reckless and dangerous was what he had become while away. It scared the team the little regard he had show on multiple occasions after endangering his life like it meant nothing. Simon had always been careful purposely with each step he took so for him to make a mistake at all seemed alien almost. Despite his protest Price decided to dismiss him for a few months in hopes it would clear whatever he had going on.

He started at the door what felt like hours but before he could open the door himself the door swung open. “You’re home early,” your tone was angry causing him to stiffen under your sharpened gaze. He expected more but you just turned back further into the house leaving the door open for him. “Price called,” you stated eyeing him as he inched his way into the kitchen. His eyes softened seeing you turning back to the stove stirring the pan, his favorite meal. Despite your anger you still made him his favorite damn meal.

He really wanted you to stay.

“He said you almost died Simon,” you spoke softly and he hated how disappointed you sounded. He couldn’t bring himself to speak unable to find the words that would carry enough apologies. A loud silence filled the room as he remained still staring at your back. This was fine it was going to be fine.

“Simon baby I can’t keep doing this,” you spoke breaking the silence.

“I know love, I’m sorry,” his breathing hitched in between his words.

“You can’t keep saying sorry and still going out there recklessly,” you rebutted curtly. “I don’t know what I was thinking, hell I don’t even know if I was,” he answered with a softness.

“I love you I really do but I can’t keep living out of fear everyday because of your stupid decisions,” he nodded his head understandably but for some reason it only seemed to upset you more. “I know-” you cut him off angrily. “No you don’t know cause if you did you wouldn’t keep doing this,” you motioned with your hands.

“For fuck sakes Simon how am I supposed to live worried everyday cause you run out there like you’re invincible, how am I supposed to live knowing that?” you called out desperately to him for some explanation in words but all you were met with was silence.

“Forget it let’s just eat,” you grabbed at the two plates placing them on the dinner table one in-front of the other before half-hazardously sitting down. His eyes followed your movements silently coming to terms. He wasn’t sure what to say or do when nothing was going to fix what was only going to further worsen things.

He didn’t know what to do when everything he knew about love was from what you taught him. You hadn’t taught him how to stop loving you though. He wondered if he could love anyone else like he did with you. Didn’t know if he had it in him to love that strongly again. He was grieving a loss that had long been coming. From the look on your face, fork dancing around the food, he could tell you no longer wanted to be here.

He prayed every night with tears in his eyes that this day wouldn’t come. He asked the gods for forgiveness in all the things he had done wrong. For them to just let him have you and he’d never ask for anything again. He’d live in a hellish purgatory for an eternity if he just got to be happy in this lifetime it would have been worth it.

Maybe in the next lifetime you’d choose to love him again.

He knew it was for the better, he couldn’t keep you chained like this when you can’t help your heart, just like how he couldn’t help his. It’s funny how cold the air had felt before but it managed to be so warm around you. His shaken hand gripped at the ring box in his pocket he long should’ve returned and like the calm before the storm he finally spoke,

“I want to break up.”

[doumadono]

Emergency request

Been dealing with self esteem and weight issues lately which I know I can't control but it's slowly getting the better of me.. could I request the clones comforting an s/o with weight issues and low self esteem?

A/N: remember, it's okay to reach out for support and help during difficult times. Take things one step at a time, be kind to yourself, and focus on self-care and self-love. You're stronger than you think ♥

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST

Karaku

Karaku, with his easygoing personality, constantly reassures his S/O that he loves her just the way she is. He adores her for her uniqueness and never wants her to change for anyone.

He surprises her with little acts of kindness, like preparing her favorite snacks, to make her feel pampered and loved.

Whenever she has a bad day, he'll hold her close, reminding her that she's precious to him.

He encourages her to join him in fun and low-pressure physical activities, like going for a relaxing walk or having a light workout together, to boost her confidence and mood.

Karaku often compliments her genuine qualities, emphasizing her intelligence, kindness, and resilience. He reminds her that her worth extends far beyond physical appearance.

He enjoys dedicating his time to his S/O, reveling in the act of worshipping her body. After passionate moments together, he refuses to let her conceal herself, choosing instead to bestow kisses upon every inch of her form while whispering sweet affirmations about her beauty. "I can't help but adore every curve and contour of your body. You're a work of art."

"Remember, you're stuck with me, no matter what, khe-khe! and that includes all your beautiful imperfections."

Urogi

Urogi is incredibly attentive, always listening and understanding her feelings. He never judges his S/O.

He's known for his sassy and playful demeanor, often teasing his S/O with cheeky comments and light-hearted banter.

When his S/O is feeling down or experiencing a mood drop, he gently comes close and envelops her within his expansive wings, whispering to her that tears aren't necessary, and that this moment of sadness will eventually pass.

He's a fantastic cuddler, and he loves to hold her close and reassure her that she's safe and cherished in his arms.

Urogi encourages her to set achievable goals for herself, focusing on self-improvement rather than striving for unrealistic standards of beauty.

"You're unique, and that's what makes you so incredibly beautiful to me. Embrace your individuality."

Aizetsu

Aizetsu, being a bit mysterious and reserved, tends to show his love through actions rather than words. He constantly supports her, offering to help his S/O with tasks.

He often takes her to peaceful and natural places, like a serene forest or a calm lake, to help her connect with the beauty of the world beyond appearances.

Aizetsu is a great listener, often sitting with her in quiet moments, giving her space to express her thoughts and feelings. He never interrupts and offers a patient ear to help her release her burdens.

His presence alone provides a sense of comfort and understanding, as he values her words and emotions.

"Don't feel that way, my love, it's truly heart-wrenching, and it stirs up an overwhelming urge within me to shed tears."

He appreciates her artistic and creative side, encouraging her to express herself through writing or other creative outlets, helping her boost her self-esteem.

Aizetsu values her inner strength and resilience, often reminding her that she's much stronger than she thinks, and he's there to support her no matter what.

He's a master at creating an aura of calm and serenity, helping her relax and find inner peace when her self-esteem issues become overwhelming.

"Look at the stars. They don't judge. They just shine, much like your inner beauty."

Sekido

Sekido's anger is like a protective shield around his S/O. Whenever they face a threat or feel vulnerable, his anger flares up, ready to defend and shield them from harm.

Despite his constant anger, Sekido's unwavering support is evident in his actions. He's quick to take action when his S/O needs help, making sure she's always defended and cared for.

"Tsch! Don't keep things from me, weakling. It's fucking frustrating."

His anger also acts as a healing force, as he fiercely helps his S/O confront her fears and insecurities. He encourages her to face challenges head-on, providing the motivation and courage she needs to overcome obstacles.

Sekido cherishes the quiet moments with his significant other. He understands the importance of relaxation and calm, and in these moments, he is surprisingly gentle and tender.

He often points out her accomplishments and the things she's proud of, emphasizing that her worth goes beyond her physical appearance.

"Don't let fear hold you back. You've got this, and I'll be right there beside you."

[heygerald]

Falling Without A Harness - Chapter 9

AU where Tom Ryder is still an asshole, just not a psychotic one. When Parker joins Colt on set, things between the siblings gets argumentative. How hard will she try to convince everyone of something only she seems to see?

Read the story here: prev / next

Parker was dying.

Well, no, not really, but she was pretty sure that dying on the inside was the same kind of misery as dying on the outside—something Colt would wholeheartedly disagree with, but, whatever, he wasn't around to dispute such a wild claim—and as she failed at yet another attempt, she quite literally could feel her sanity evaporating like water on a hot summer day. It was ridiculous that the instructions were only five steps; even more ridiculous that there were high school art students who could do this with their eyes closed while gabbing about what the prettiest Met Gala dress of the year was and contemplating what the next Suzanne Collins' book would be.

"I think she should write more prequel books," said high school art student was blabbering on from the other side of the shelf, and while Parker's eyes went crossed and frustration welled like a heavy weight on her chest, Melissa didn't seem to notice as her train of thought continued on a cross-continental journey. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I will always love Katniss and Peeta's story, and hearing about their kids would be interesting, but there are seventy some years of Games that we haven't even heard about yet. That's so much material for her to write about!"

Parker glanced at the mess lying at her feet; tape and paint and abused shelf liner was sprawled around her as if a bomb had just gone off, and while Melissa continued on her fifth monologue of the hour, Parker almost wished one would.

"—did you see it? It was so good. Tom Blythe has to be my new celebrity crush. Right behind Tom Ryder, of course, but above Tyler Poser. Nothing against him personally, he just hasn't really done anything since Teen Wolf, you know? And—"

She was pretty sure black spots were dotting her vision, and when she attempted for a sixth time to smooth the bubbles out of her liner, Parker swore her head was going to implode.

How did one talk so much?

And more importantly—

"Jesus Christ!" she cried above the din of chatter. Melissa's voice cut off at the exclamation, but as she crossed one arm over the other—ruler clattering to the ground in frustration—the radio continued to play a steady stream of Taylor Swift and Katy Perry. "I'm so confused!"

A steady silence came from the adjacent aisle for half a moment.

"You... don't get the Hunger Games prequel? I thought you read it."

"Oh my fu—" she started, before cutting herself off. Melissa had gotten on her last week about having such foul language, and while Parker really didn't care about being a bad influence on the next generation, she did care about the stupid little jar sitting on the front counter that had collected half of her weekly coffee allowance in just three days. Pinching her nose, she swerved, "fudge, I don't get how you're doing this. I really don't."

"Doing—?"

"Not Suzzanne Collins," she snapped before Melissa could even go down that particular road. Honestly, the girl never stopped talking. "I understand that. I read those books before you were even born, kid."

"Okay, I'm not that young, and you're not old enough to be calling me kid," her voice floated above the shelves; judgmental and scornful all in one.

Parker pinched the bridge of her nose, only for some wayward tape to get stuck to her cheek, and as she ripped it off her skin with a groan, she considered sinking onto the cold floor for a nap.

Said floor was a mess of art supplies, however, and so she elected to tap her foot in an impatient staccato on the ground. Knowing there was only one thing left to do, Parker swallowed whatever pride still existed after this little art project. "...I don't understand how to put on the shelf liners," she admitted. "It doesn't make any sense, and I'm wasting material, and I'm—I'm going to set this place on fire if I have to keep doing this!"

A tut followed by Birkenstocks on hard wood before Melissa was popping around her side of the shelves. She looked too cute to be doing something misery-inducing like this—bubble braids over each shoulder, mascara and glittery white eyeshadow to balance out the glow of highlighter on her cheeks and nose, lips a soft bubblegum pink to compliment the pale color of her sweater—and Parker added it to the list of things that her employee did to annoy the shit out of her.

Teenagers were supposed to be pimply and awkward; when did the next generation start skipping that phase to jump right into cute outfits like that?

"What are you—?" she started, only to zero in on the absolute disaster that was Parker's attempts at interior design. The shelf liner was warbled and misshapen, cut too short on one side and too long on the other, and at her feet half a yard of wasted material lay sprawled. "Parker! Do you have any idea how expensive this stuff is?"

Parker blinked at her. "Do I—? Of course I do! I was the one that bought it in the first place!" she snarked incredulously.

"Then why are you wasting it?"

"Well—because—I'm not doing it on purpose!" she blustered.

Melissa clearly didn't seem to believe that if her raised brow was anything to go by. As if Parker had woken up that morning with the single goal in mind of making this process as difficult and expensive as possible.

Yeah, right.

Parker hadn't been stealing eggs and bread from her brother's when she visited just for the thrill of the grift.

"The instructions don't make any sense," she continued to defend herself; though, the fact that she needed to in the first place was ridiculous. It was her shop, afterall, and she was the owner. Oh, right. She was the owner. "I knew we shouldn't have done this. The paint and decorations look good enough. Why, oh why, did I let you talk me into doing shelf liners too? You know the books are just going to cover the pattern, right? No one will see them."

That seemed to upset Melissa, and in response, the teenager's entire face contorted into something righteous.

"Firstly," she said, flinging up a electric blue nail, "everyone will see them. The books are only so big, so the liner is still visible even when the shelf is full, and when people take books off the shelf it adds character to the store. And secondly," she continued, ticking another finger up into the air, "I've already finished three whole shelves in the time it's taken you to do half of one. Improperly, too. It's not impossible. You're just bad at it."

"Ugh!" Parker's mouth fell open. "Excuse me. I'm not bad at it."

"Could'a fooled me."

"You know," she snarked while planting her hands firmly onto her hips. Melissa didn't seem intimidated one bit, and she watched as the teenager gently pulled up her crumpled liner. "You're lucky I'm your boss because someone else might fire you for sass like that."

Melissa shot her a blithe look while dropping the ruined liner to the ground. Within seconds, she cut a new piece—perfectly sized—and calmly started lying it down. "Okay, sure, Park. Whatever you say."

"I could!"

"Uh-huh," the girl said again, clearly not buying into the power play for a second. Parker might have taken more offense to that if, well, Melissa wasn't right. She never had an employee before, but Parker didn't handle workplace confrontations well, and she couldn't imagine ever firing anyone. Let alone her best customer.

Still. She could at least pretend to be intimidated.

Before Parker could argue that point, Melissa stepped back from the shelf with a flourish to reveal a perfectly placed, smooth and colorful liner.

"Son of a..." Parker muttered at how easy she had made it look. Not to mention the fact that it did look really good. She could already picture how much character it would add once the shelves were re-stocked with their books. "How did you—?"

"It's honestly so easy. Like, I'm embarrassed for you."

And—yeah.

Parker was definitely dying.

"I liked you better when you only came in once a week," she announced, dropping the wasted paper into the trash bag. "You were a lot nicer then, at least. And you already gave me money instead of costing me heaps of it."

Unbothered, the teen popped her bubblegum with a shrug. "You were a lot cooler then, too."

"What—?" she cried, tracking around the shelf in Melissa's wake. The teenager seemed pretty pleased with herself, and as she giggled into her hand, Parker propped her shoulder against the wall with a glower. "Oh. Hardy-har-har. Hilarious. Let's all pick on Parker; that seems like a fun way to spend the day. How about this? You can finish this little project yourself since it was your idea in the first place."

That managed to wipe the smirk off of her face, and Melissa responded by stomping her foot. "This place is huge! There's no way I can finish this on my own."

"Please," Parker rolled her eyes, not buying that for a moment. "You've done six times as much as me in an hour, and better too. It's like you said—I suck at this."

"I didn't say you suck."

"Bad, suck, they're all the same insult. Are you regretting the sass now?"

Melissa scowled. "Fine. But I want to re-negotiate my salary."

That wiped whatever smug look Parker was wearing off her face in seconds, and as if this was a game of tug-o-war, the smugness transferred back to Melissa in the following seconds. So smug, in fact, that she started humming to herself as she set to work on the next line of shelves.

Shaking her head, Parker couldn't do anything but laugh. "Fat chance of that! You're already robbing me blind with the stupid swear jar. Besides, this whole thing was your idea; you wanted the job, and now you got the job. You don't get to re-negotiate your hourly pay when you've barely been here a month. That's not how employee contracts work."

"America as a late stage capitalistic society is failing and is not what you should be basing a business model on, but if that's how you want to play it, fine. This is a supply and demand market. There's nothing to say I can't negotiate my salary when my needs as an employee go up. Your demand has changed, ergo my supply for you has changed," she chirped, and not for the first time, Parker was wondering when teenagers became so socially aware. When she was Melissa's age, she babysat for five bucks an hour, and most of that was just spent making sure the kids didn't swallow their Gumby doll. Needs of an employee her ass. "Besides, we agreed on that salary when I thought I would have help doing the manual labor."

"You're awfully smart for someone that didn't read the fine print."

Melissa paused in her work to cross one arm over the other. And—fuck—how was she being intimidated by someone wearing a best friends forever necklace?

Saved by the tinkle of the front door bell, Parker broke off their stare down to give the girl a flippant gesture that would definitely not hold up in court as any sort of agreement, before moving towards the front. She didn't even care that they were closed, a customer was more than welcome at the moment. Even a neighborhood cat would do.

Melissa trailed after.

"All I'm saying is—" she started.

"Ah, ah, ah. No money talk in front of customers. It's totally kitsch," Parker chirped over her shoulder.

"It's Sunday. We shouldn't even have customers. Can't we just tell them to leave?"

"And they say good customer service is dead," said customer drawled from the front counter as he pilfered through her bowl of mints. Several clattered to the floor as he tried to dig out his favorite flavor, and with a wince, Parker watched him not-so-subtly nudged them under the counter with his shoe as if it hadn't happened at all. "Er, those were already down there when I got here."

"Ass," she rolled her eyes, bending over to scoop the mints up before mice decided to add themselves onto the list of things she had to deal with. She was already stuck between two pestering leeches, a third infestation was not ideal.

Before Melissa could complain, Parker stuck a dollar into the swear jar.

"Whatever. Tom, we were just—" Melissa pushed past Parker with an exuberance that had been lacking moments before. It deflated the moment she got a better look at him, however, and the girl's grin slipped into a sour frown. She crossed one arm over the other to peer suspiciously at the blonde. "Wait, you're not Tom."

Colt experienced a variety of emotions in a single second, and Parker couldn't help but laugh when he let out an offended squeak.

"What—how does she know Tom?" he hissed.

Parker dumped the fallen mints back into the bowl with a shrug. "He's stopped by before. She's a huge fan. Number one, apparently. She's seen all his stuff."

"Twice," Melissa added.

Parker pointed at her. "Twice," she reiterated, just knowing that it would piss Colt off.

Just as expected, he responded by rolling his eyes with a second, high-pitched groan. It sounded like he was in pain. "You're a fan of Ryder? Seriously?"

Melissa squared her shoulders at him. "Seriously."

"You do know that he wears a wig, right?"

She huffed. "No, he doesn't."

"Uh, yes he does."

"Does not."

"Does too."

"Does—"

"Okay, that's enough of that," Parker interjected with a groan of her own. What had started off as an amusing blow to her brother's ego was quickly turning into a headache. "Melissa, don't bully him. He has a sensitive ego."

Colt threw his arms up—bowl of mints scattering everywhere—to cry, "Parker! That's not—I don't—who even is this?"

"Who am I? I work here. Who are you?" she shot back, bright eyes narrowed into slits. Parker could imagine her in high-school now, scaring off boys left and right, and if her brother didn't have the mental maturity of a middle schooler, she might have let them argue a little bit longer.

Alas. Colt's weakness was women, and she didn't fancy giving him chest compressions when he inevitably choked on his pride.

"Melissa," she gestured, "this is my brother, Colt. He's a professional stuntman, and has been Tom Ryder's stuntdouble for years. That how I met him in the first place. Colt, this is my new employee, who also happens to be a teenage girl, Melissa."

In unison, the pair gave cagey hmphs.

"Nice to meet you or whatever," Colt sniffed.

"Yeah," she responded with a blithe look. "Totally."

Parker glanced between the pair; both had matching postures, arms crossed, arms averted, neither wanting to acknowledge the other, and she pinched the bridge of her nose with a heavy sigh. Although, to be fair, only one of the two was an actual adult. Despite how Melissa might carry herself from time to time.

Remembering this, she steered the conversation back to more important things. "If I step out for lunch with Colt, do you think you can finish the shelf liners? You can invite one or two friends to hang out. If they help, I suppose I can pay them too."

Pettiness forgotten, Melissa gave Parker a wide-eyed look. "Really?"

"Flat rate. Fifty for the day, a max of two friends. Just no posting on instagram or snapchat or—you know—anything else. I don't need social media being my downfall before I even get started."

"Oh my god, you're so old, Parker. Who would even want to cancel you?" Melissa laughed over her shoulder before disappearing towards the back. Her cell phone was already dialing, and by the time she started pasting on liners, her friends were already on their way.

With that taken care of, Parker blinked over at her brother.

"Yes."

Colt, having replaced whatever book he was pretending to read, furrowed his brows at her. "Yes, what?"

"Whatever you're going to suggest we do, yes, please take me away from here before I commit a craft-themed crime."

"Is that a crime?"

"A violent one."

He clicked his tongue, tossing another mint into his mouth with a curious side-eye across the counter. "Maybe I just wanted to stop in and see how things were looking. You were talking about it at the party so much I figured I'd have to see it eventually."

That was a lame excuse and they both knew it. Colt may have been her biggest cheerleader, but her brother didn't know the difference between paint and lacquer. Not to mention that he was red-green colorblind, and would certainly have a hard time noticing any change in paint around them.

"Coooolllltttttt," she whined.

He quirked his brow at her. "Seriously?"

"Please?" she asked, slumping across the counter. When that didn't work she attempted to flutter her eyelashes at him. That only provoked an eyeroll from him, and she deflated with a moan. "I'll ber lurnch," she muttered into her sweater sleeves.

He lifted a finger to his ear, patronizing and provoking all in a single sweeping gesture. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't get that. What did you say?"

Atop her arms, she glared before slowly reiterating, "I'll buy lunch."

That he understood.

The bastard.

"Well, why didn't you just say so?" he cooed, and when he attempted to pat her atop the head, Parker swatted him away with a glare. She was already reconsidering going anywhere with him, but a single glance towards what was awaiting her in the back of the shop had her sitting up straight. "I have to go to set today for some wardrobe fittings and thought you'd want to come with. Might as well see how the magic is made. We're gonna be late if you keep moping, though."

"We wouldn't have been late if you didn't get all mouthy with Melissa," she snarked while gathering her things. Feeling a bit guilty about leaving the kid to finish the work, she dug a twenty out of her wallet. "I'll be back later! There's money on the counter to get lunch for you girls!"

She got no response—as a mom rarely did with a teenager—and it took Colt tugging her by the elbow to get Parker to step outside. His truck was parked right in front of a fire hydrant.

She raised a brow at him, utterly unimpressed.

"What?" he asked when he caught the look she was shooting him. And, as if it wasn't a low-stakes crime that he was committing, Colt just grinned. "Relax, grumpy-pants. It's a Sunday. Fire hydrants don't count on Sundays. Now get in before we really are late."

There was a lot to say to that, but Parker didn't bother wasting the energy, and with an easy-going grin of her own, she clambered inside.

---

An hour later and Parker finds herself propped on an overflowing table filled with sewing needles, accessories, pens, papers, and a binder flush with polaroid photos of her brother from every angle. The film's wardrobe department, despite his warnings in the car, was more than thrilled that Colt had brought along his sister, and while he was poked and prodded, shifted left and right on a pedestal for everyone to critique, Parker had been set up with an iced coffee, some freshly made baklava, and front row seats to the most amusing thing she had seen in weeks.

"I think the crotch is too tight," Betty said, tugging on the material with long, sharp fingernails that Colt eyed like they were a sleeping snake. "See how it's bunching, we need to let it out, or maybe—see this? We could try—"

"No, no, no, it doesn't need to be let out," Sasha, a blonde woman with oversized cat-eye glasses tutted. "It's supposed to be tight. Remember?"

"It'll rip."

"It'll be fine."

"I suppose for standing, but I think he'll be wearing them for a running sequence—"

The ladies bickered back and forth, hands clawing too close for comfort at her brother's privates, and every so often he would wince when they tugged a little too hard. Parker, watching all of it, giggled every time it happened.

"How come I've never been brought along to fittings before?" she mused, a Cheshire-like grin in place. He had been standing up there for the lasty forty minutes, and every time she took a sip of her drink, Colt would look a little more green in envy at their difference in treatment. "This is fun."

"Fun," he said, mocking her with an eyeroll. "You come up here and try this."

"I happen to think I would look amazing in those pants. I have the ass for them, anyway," she chirped, and Sasha took a break from her bickering just to laugh at the idea. Beaming, Parker added, "I didn't realize that wardrobe fittings for the stunt double would be so... invasive."

"Yeah, well, usually the pants aren't so tight. That's all thanks to Ryder."

"I bet they look good on Tom," she said, half teasing, half meaning it. Anything looked good on Tom as time had proven again and again; from covered in sweat, puking in a toilet to wearing Gucci brand glasses, she had yet to see the guy look bad. Speaking of, "shouldn't he be here too?"

Colt, adjusting the tight collar of his leather jacket, shot her a look. "He's probably staring at himself in a mirror somewhere. That's how they trap raccoons, you know. They get so distracted by their own reflection that they forget to run off before the coon dogs get them."

"That's not a thing."

"Sure it is," he said, twisting on the pedestal as the ladies started to adjust the inseam of the pants. He eyed their gleaming needles nervously as they continued on their warpath across the fabric. "You should watch Animal Planet sometime. They did a whole episode on it."

"On how to catch raccoons?" Parker reiterated, absolutely not believing her brother for a second.

"It was a special."

"Maybe a Looney Tunes' special," she deadpanned with an eyeroll. Colt's mouth propped open in argument, only to freeze up when two pairs of hands started plucking the fabric across his butt, and she watched his face flush red. "Seriously? You're such a child!"

Being called out, Colt scowled at his sister. "Am not."

"Are too."

"Am—you know what?" he caught himself before he could go on his second preschool tirade of the day. Parker sipped her drink with an impish gleam in her eyes. "Whatever. You're supposed to be amusing me, not stirring up shit. Tell me something interesting."

"Sure, Caesar," she rolled her eyes. "What would your highness like to be amused by?

"I don't know! Anything. Like—what were you and Melissa doing today at the shop that had you running scared?"

She blew a raspberry, spinning slightly on the table to snatch up an oversized top hat. She didn't have a clue what sort of movie it would be acceptable for—definitely not a sci-fi one—but she traced the stitching with a bored eye anyways. "Shelf liners. They're way harder than they look, and she can get mean when she wants to be. I swear she acts like she's the boss sometimes."

"Ooooh," he teased. "Scared of a teenager?"

"You should see her first thing in the morning. She must wake up at five am to do her beauty routine, and anyone with that sort of willpower should be feared. I think I'll have to move when she finally saves up for her car. God knows the roadways won't be safe."

"Just because you can't wake up before noon without a liter of coffee doesn't mean everyone else can't. Some people are naturally early risers."

"Says the guy that slept for nineteen hours straight once."

Colt shot her a cross look. "I had a concussion."

"All the morning reason not to sleep that long. Isn't rule number one of head injuries that you're supposed to wake up every so often for a health check?" she asked.

Her brother popped his mouth open to argue, finger poised, before he slowly let it drift down to his side. His silence spoke volumes, however, and she raised her brows at him with a smug smile.

"Oh, like you're so perfect," he huffed irritably.

To which she beamed, plopping the top hat onto her head with a flourish. "Maybe I am. Ever thought about that? I'm pretty, popular with famous people, and am the reigning champion at beerball five years running."

"You cheat at beerball," he snarked before the rest of what she said caught up to him. With a gesture, Colt flexed on the pedestal, adding, "and you're not the only hot Seavers. Look at me? See how these pants are hugging my curves? You wish."

Parker laughed at that, couldn't help it if she tried. Her brother was so ridiculous that at times the way he spewed word vomit surprised even her. Not to mention the fact that he was her brother, best friend on too many planes to count; it was hard not to be in a good mood when hanging with him. Even if she was watching him get pampered like a princess before an upcoming ball.

Speaking of, "so, you don't think Tom will be around?"

Something bewildered cracked across his features at the same time that Sasha and Betty told him to step down from the pedestal. The ladies took their notes to the table, adjusting this and that, while Colt stepped behind a privacy screen. She could hear him grunting as he tried to maneuver out of the pinned clothes without sticking himself.

"Do we need to talk about this?" his voice echoed.

"About what?"

"You. Tom. Whatever weird relationship the two of you have going on," he continued, before yelping when he did stick himself on a pin. Sasha rushed behind the screen to help him get out of the pants, and when she returned, she had the garments in hand. "It's sickening to even think about."

"How is us being friends sickening?" Parker echoed.

"Because—you—he—the guy is an ass!"

"He's not an ass," she argued back, surprising herself at how quickly she came to his defense and how little she actually cared. There were few things her and Colt disagreed on; siblings that knew each other as well as they did often had minor squabbles, but nothing ever world-changing or big. Yet, it didn't feel right to let him say those sorts of things. She could consider why later. "He's just... misunderstood."

"Misunderstood?" his voice pitched behind the screen, before he was stepping out in a totally new suit. It was black and yellow, leather, emboldened with the NASA logo, and for a moment she forgot entirely what they were talking about to ogle it appreciatively.

"Ooh, nice job ladies, I like that one."

Colt paused, glancing down at himself. "It is nice," he said in surprise, twisting and turning in the mirror. As he smoothed the material down, he added, "comfortable too. Is this worn much in the film?"

Betty checked her notes. "Looks like he wears it in a few scenes. Oh, looks like you should be wearing it for a harness drop, so make sure you tell us if it's too tight anywhere," she said as the women headed back over to him with their tape measures and pins. "Good?"

He stretched up and down, left and right, before gesturing to the armpit seams. "Probably could be loosened a bit."

She nodded, and the ladies got to work on that, as Colt returned his attention to his sister. Clearing his throat, he continued their earlier disagreement. "I can't believe you of all people think he's misunderstood."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Uh, hello? Remember the whole coffee thing?"

"I think I understood him perfectly well then," she argued, top hat shifting on her head as she gestured. It was surprisingly heavy, and Parker fixed its lean half-heartedly. "He was an asshole during that encounter, and several encounters since then."

"Then what's with the whole PR parade?"

"I just think he's, I don't know... not always like that."

Colt stared at her; blinking, wide-eyed, with wheels spinning slowly between his ears. She swore she could smell the smoke from there, and Parker prepared herself for whatever ridiculous conclusion he was going to come once the spinning stopped.

"You didn't drink any kool-aid recently did you?"

And, yup. She saw that one coming from a mile away.

"Jesus Christ, Colt," she rolled her eyes, huffing. "When are you going to stop with that Jonestown shit?"

"It was a big deal! More people should be talking about it."

"Yeah, like, three decades ago. No one is trying to copy it with kool-aid. That would be a little bit of an obvious tactic, don't you think? I don't know how many times I have to tell you that I'm not in a cult!"

He held his hands up to placate her, before dropping them back down at Sasha's disgruntled tsk-ing. Parker supposed the ladies would be amused by their conversation if they weren't so intently focused on their work. That or they would be seriously concerned for the siblings' mental welfare.

"I'm just checking. Cult leaders are hard to spot you know. That's their whole gimmick. They look normal, just like you and me, and then next thing you know—wham! Indoctrination. Cult. Weird clothes and bad bathing habits and no teeth. It's a slide, not stepping stones, Park. Tom Cruise fell for it in the eighties and hasn't gotten out since"

"Yeah, well, I don't have any sort of money to give a potential cult leader so I don't really think I'm a good target in the first place. Plus, Tom Cruise seems to be doing just fine with the whole Scientology thing," she replied drolly. He didn't have an argument to that, and she shook the melting ice in her cup half-heartedly. "All I'm saying is he's under a lot of pressure from a lot of people. Isn't it possible that he overreacts sometimes?"

He didn't look pleased with her line of questioning one bit, shaking his head at her like a disappointed parent. "I don't think you should be friends."

"What?"

"I don't like it. I don't like it at all."

"Now who's drinking the kool-aid?"

"I'm just saying! It's weird," he continued, gesturing to her a second time only for Betty to snatch his arm and tug it back down with a glare. Colt didn't seem to notice, however, as he barreled on in the way that idiots often did. "First, it's the bookstore. Normal, no biggie. Then, it's the little giggling and laughter. Odd, but whatever. But then, all of the sudden, he has an invite to my exclusive birthday party—"

She threw her head back with a groan, top hat tumbling to the table. "I already apologized for that!"

"—and next thing you know, our Friday night is being highjacked by some ritzy party in upper LA where I have to wear my nice shoes and act like an adult. I'm telling you—rockslides only take a pebble."

"Are you saying you didn't have fun?" she asked with a pointed look, to which her brother hedged and hawed instead of answering. Like a guilty dog that knew it was in trouble, he avoided eye contact. Replacing the top hat onto her head, she waved her hands around. "See? So what's the problem? You got along then, too, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah."

"Then isn't it possible you misjudged him too?"

"I've known him a lot longer than you."

"But you've never actually spent time with him outside of work."

"For good reason."

"Really? Because you always seem to get along when I'm around," she continued, not ready to let the point go if only because she needed it to stick. "So, how good can the reason be? Maybe he's grown up since you first met him, and you just don't want to accept that."

It was a solid argument, they both knew that.

But Colt was as stubborn as she was. He sniffed. "Well, I still don't like it. Is something going on between you two?"

"Like what?" she asked, despite knowing exactly what was going on between the two of them.

They had kissed. Once. Twice. Three times. Then a few more times until she couldn't really remember what was happening. All she knew was one moment they were kissing and the next moment she was riding home with Colt and Jody, bewildered, breathless, and giddy.

"I have no clue what you're on about," she said despite knowing exactly what he was on about, deciding that gaslighting her brother might be the best option at the moment. "We're just friends."

"Well, obviously," he scoffed, as if anything else was beyond the scope of his imagination.

Which—fair.

She couldn't exactly begrudge him for thinking that there was no chance in hell Parker could kiss someone like Tom Ryder. She could barely believe it, and she was the one that had done it. Still, she scowled at him, contemplating it she wanted to drop the subject entirely or tell him in explicit detail all the reasons he was an idiot, but before she could, the fitting room door opened, and in he walked.

He looked good.

He always looked good.

But today he looked especially good with his dewy skin and jean jacket. Or, maybe, Parker was just looking at him in a new light, and when his gaze landed on her, she couldn't help but grin at him.

"Hey, Tom," she said with a little too much enthusiasm. If he thought it was odd, however, he didn't comment on it. Just ran his gaze over her.

"Nice hat. I'm glad you're finally taking my advice and trying to improve your style, but this isn't exactly what I had in mind."

"The—? Oh!" Parker snatched the top hat off her head with a blush, and in face of her karma, Colt snorted with pleased laughter. Ass. She shot him a side-eye before chirping, "it's Colt's, actually. I told him it looked ridiculous, but the prom is coming up, and Jody is just so exited. You should see his cummerbund. Straight out of the eighteen hundreds."

That effectively wiped the smirk off his face, and Colt started to argue just as Betty ushered him towards the privacy screen for another fitting.

Pleased, she blinked back at Tom.

"What are you doing here?"

"Colt dragged me along for his fittings. Something about being scared of the fashion department team," she joked in a half-whisper, gesturing to where he was hidden behind the privacy screen knowing that he wouldn't be able to hear her. "What are you doing here?"

"I just finished my fittings."

She perked. "Oh, you're done, then?"

He nodded just as Colt re-appeared from behind the screen. The flight suit had been replaced with a suave looking tuxedo that seemed to fit wrong in every place it could, and without knowing fashion at all, Parker had a feeling it would be a while before they finished pinning this particular look. Feeling both rebellious and like a high-schooler with a crush, she cast her brother a look. He immediately caught it, and returned one of his own.

Don't you dare, he said.

She lifted a brow testily. Oh, I dare, the look said.

And just like that, Parker faced Tom and asked, "you want to get lunch?"

"With you two?"

"I don't think Colt will be finished for awhile," she said, mock sincerity in her voice. Her brother heard it, face blustered and annoyed, as she batted her lashes across the room at him. "We could always bring him back something."

"But—!" Colt cried, gesturing at them so hard that he almost whacked Sasha in the head. He didn't even notice in his rush to argue, and it took both seamstresses to position him on the pedestal where they wanted him. "We were gonna get lunch!"

"Well, you're not done, and I'm starving."

"I—I could be done. Right?" he asked, turning his own version of puppy dog eyes towards Sasha and Betty. Unlike Jody and their mom, however, it seemed that they were immune to his charms, and together, they tutted at him. "...but—but!"

"This one needs a lot of work on it," Sasha said, as Betty patted him on the back. "And there's still four more looks to get through before we move you to hair and makeup for mock-ups."

"But—!"

"Don't worry Colt," she cooed at him with a victorious grin, and she would have felt bad for abandoning him if he hadn't been so adamant about his opinion on who she could be friends with. Plus, he accused her of being in a cult four times a year; this was his penance. "We'll bring you back something."

"Do I even want to know what that was about?" Tom asked her once they were in the safety of the hallway.

Parker gave an impish look. "Just Colt being Colt. He gets mopey when he's hungry. Is Mexican okay? I really am starving."

His amusement turned scathing. "Mexican? That's all carbs. No fucking way, I just had my fitting done this morning, and I'm not going to have my pants let out."

She rolled her eyes. "Carbs are good for you," she tutted.

"Not that many."

"Rock, paper, scissors?"

Tom blinked at her—as if he couldn't believe she would suggest such a childish solution—and started off down the hallway without another word.

"Well—we can do two out of three!" she cried in his wake, and it wasn't until he disappeared around the corner did she realize that he might actually leave her to deal with Colt alone. Yelping, she rushed after him. "Okay, okay! Fine! Sushi?"

---

"I can't believe you actually eat this stuff," Parker whined twenty minutes later, a salad with more vegetables than she could name, quinoa, and some sort of vinaigrette dousing the top set out in front of her. The lettuce is limp when she lifts it with a fork, and she can't even pretend to find it appetizing as Tom munches through his. "Like, seriously? I'm not about to be Punk'D?"

He rolled his eyes at her. "You have to be famous to be Punk'D."

"I'm with you, aren't I?" she sassed, prodding the food like a toddler not allowed to leave the table before finishing their peas. She wrinkled her nose at the idea. "I get that salad is healthy or whatever, but don't you ever eat anything that tastes good?"

"This does taste good."

She shot him a look of disbelief to which he shrugged.

"I mean, kind of good," he corrected after a moment.

"It's disgusting. Why is it both limp and hard? You know an entire ethnic community eats all the carbs associated with Mexican food and they're thriving. Have you ever seen a Cinco de Mayo party? Unreal how much fun they're having."

"That's because they're drunk on tequila."

"Well, sure," she hedged, head tipping left and right as she tried to ignore the weird smell coming from the bowl in front of her. "But you gotta live a little, right?"

"I don't want to live a little," he corrected her, spitting out the word like it was distasteful. But he had that same sort of tone that he used when he was repeating something he heard a thousand times, but didn't necessarily believe. "I want to live to be a hundred, and I want to look good while doing that."

"Colt eats Mexican food," she argued.

"Colt isn't the face of a multi-million dollar movie franchise."

"No, just the body."

"Maybe you should have just gone out to lunch with Colt, then," he said, both look and tone cross.

And suddenly Parker felt like she had ceremoniously swallowed her foot in front of him. It hadn't occurred to her that he might have a touchy relationship with food, and guilt settled on her shoulders like a weight. She felt pretty stupid for not seeing that—just like she had told Colt, the amount of pressure he was under at all times was not something either sibling would be able to comprehend—and five minutes into lunch she had already made an ass of herself.

"Sorry," she said, stuffing limp lettuce into her mouth as if to prove that she agreed with him. It tasted gross, though, and Tom definitely didn't miss the way she had to choke it down. "Mhmm, it's so... salad-y."

Whether it was her tone or the look she made while saying it, something about the act worked, and when he shook his head she caught the edges of a smile peeking across his face.

Feeling better, Parker aimed for more neutral territory.

"So, your party was fun," she said, before immediately realizing that was clearly not a neutral territory if the way he paused in his chewing was anything to go by. The last thing she wanted was to come across as some sort of lovesick teenager, and she nearly choked on her tongue to add, "I just mean—Colt and Jody really liked it. She got to network a lot. Plus, Colt has been dying to see your house for, like, ever."

"He has?"

"Sure," she shrugged. "You guys have worked together for almost a decade. I think he's always wondered what your life outside of work looked like."

Tom digested that information as slowly as he digested his food, and she managed another bite of soggy, lemon-flavored lettuce before he decided on a reaction. "I didn't realize that he really cared."

"What do you mean?"

Tom shrugged; one of the rare moments he actually looked awkward while talking about something, and Parker set aside her fork to wash the bad flavor down with some bitter tasting kombucha.

Bad. It was all bad. The health food industry had to be some sort of joke.

"I don't know; just never really thought about hanging out with Colt outside of the set. I told you the stunt guys don't like me."

"What?" she deadpanned. "You? That is such shocking news. I'm shocked."

Tom huffed, then laughed, before shaking his head at her. "Don't be an ass."

"Me? Never."

"Never," he echoed, clearly mocking her. She didn't mind though. It wasn't vindictive or mean, and if it made him feel better, her ego could handle a little mocking banter. Especially when his shoulders relaxed as if a weight was being taken off them. "Whatever. Glad they, uh, had fun."

"Well, you know—open bar, secrets about the Hollywood elite. What wasn't there to like about the party?"

He nodded, another bite taken, as Parker miserably tried to force herself to eat her own food. When he had suggested a vegan salad spot, she hadn't been thrilled, but never in her wildest dreams did she imagine it would be this bad.

"Did, uh," he cleared his throat, "you enjoy the party?"

"Hm?" she hummed, not properly hearing the question as she tried to figure out if the brown thing in her bowl was a raisin or a date. Then she did, and Parker blinked up to find Tom watching her carefully. "Oh. Yeah. Yes. I had, you know, lots of fun. With Colt, Jody, er... you."

He glanced away, nodding, before peeking back at her. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it was... it was nice. I mean—not just the, er—you know. Not just when you—when I—when we..." she overemphasized, face hot and red as she struggled to put her thoughts into words. She absolutely didn't want to sound like their kiss was the only thing she had thought about all weekend, but she also didn't want to act indifferent because dating had somehow drifted into a game of tag nowadays.

Not that they were dating.

Oh god.

It was one kiss. Obviously they weren't dating, and he probably hadn't even thought about it a second time, and that's probably not what he was asking about in the first place, and—she was obsessing, wasn't she?

Oh, god.

"...um," Parker choked, swallowing some more kombucha before remembering she actually hated the taste of it. Wiping her mouth, she slumped onto the table with an embarrassed sigh. "Can you just put me out of my misery, please?"

Tom lifted a brow. "You might do that yourself. Are you having a stroke?"

"Maybe."

He passed over his cup of water, and Parker took a couple small sips until her cheeks didn't feel so hot. He was still watching her, still eating his food, but it was clear from the sparkle in his eye and the smug curve of his mouth that he was greatly enjoying the show. "Just wanted to make sure you had fun," he said.

"I would have had fun if we just played twenty questions," she said, catching the way he hesitated in his eating, before continuing. The cocky gleam was gone from his eye, and something kind remained when he glanced at her. "Not to complain about the... other stuff, but I meant everything I told you. I don't hang out with you for an open bar."

Tom's gaze swept the planes of her face before he nodded. It was a confident nod, for once, and he spoke he almost sounded... happy.

"Well, that's a relief at least. With how much you drink, I'm a little worried between you and Gail I'm going to go bankrupt this year. I swear every party costs more and more."

"Can't you set a budget?"

"It's Hollywood," he deadpanned, and she supposed that was an obvious enough answer that the deadpanning was necessary. "You think anything is ever under-budget?"

Parker wouldn't really know; the only thing she stuck to a budget for was Bath & Body Works lotions and Uber Eats. Just like he had said though, if she didn't, she was confident that she would be bankrupt within days.

Shrugging, she quipped, "next time you can just invite Jody and I. By keeping Colt away, you'll probably spare yourself a few thousand on alcohol alone. Though, he did behave himself last time since he was the designated driver, but I swear he's put a few bars out of business from Happy Hour deals alone."

Tom, another heaping of lettuce down, jabbed a fork at her. "Think I'd be better keeping you away considering how many napkins you took."

"Oh, shut up. They're, like, fifty cents each!"

"You had at least a hundred in you purse when you left."

"Well—" she threw her arms up, blustering, "it's not like I took all of them. Plus, when I sell them on eBay I'll give you a commission. Unlike when you got this fancy sci-fi role. I'm still waiting on my agent's fee for that one."

He shook his head at her. "Yeah, just hold your breath on that one."

With all the maturity she could muster, Parker stuck her tongue out at Tom, and with all the maturity he could muster, he chucked a carrot at her. It bounced onto the patio ground, and she noticed with a look of betrayal that not even the local squirrel population would touch it.

"Tom," she leaned forward, "I am begging you. I need carbs."

"You don't—"

"I'm going to die. Dramatically. And not quietly. Everyone will know, and they're going to think you killed me, and the tabloids will never let that go. Forgot living to a hundred, you'll be seventy and in a retirement home. Please."

Her pleading did nothing.

So, taking drastic measures, Parker used all of her own acting experience to flutter her eyelashes at him, eyes wide and dog-like. And whether it was the pathetic way she threw herself onto the table, or maybe it was the smell of the hotdog cart from down the street, but after a long moment of begging, Tom's shoulder sank with a sigh.

"Jesus Christ, fine."

"Oh, thank god," she slumped, a disgruntled look towards her salad and kombucha before the idea of real food had her perking right back up. She had tossed their stuff in the trash before Tom could manage one more bite of his salad, and though he tried to look disgruntled by that fact, when she tugged him to his feet with a giggle, he was fighting off a smile. "Have you ever had the monster burrito from Lolita's? It has cream cheese and pickles."

"That sounds disgusting."

"I know!" she bounced in excitement, pulling him along after her, gabbing all the way.

Tom let her drag him down the street without any complaint, let her order him her favorite burrito, chips, and Mexican lemonade without arguing—though he did try to see the calorie count on the menu before she snatched it away from him—and because they were on an empty set on a Sunday no one paid them much mind.

A good thing, too, because if someone had, they might have noticed the goofy grin she was wearing, or the amused smile he was; and if they looked closer, they might have even noticed that even after they got to where they were going, Tom Ryder was still holding her hand as they waited in line, letting her lean against his chest as they waited on their orders, before sitting awfully close to her on a little stone bench outside.

But, no one noticed.

Not until her shrill ringtone broke through their game of twenty questions about an hour later as her brother complained about how hungry he was. And though he suspected something weird was going on, not even Colt noticed the sly smiles they shared with one another when they delivered his food as promised or the spot of wet lipgloss smeared on Tom Ryder's mouth.