#LISTEN. I SPENT OVER AN HOUR MAKING THIS EDIT. THAT'S HOW BAD I AM AT GRAPHICS.

[samandcolbyownme]

Can we get birthday smut with Sam for his birthday tomorrow!!! Please

I think I got this request yesterday, so that would make today Sam’s birthday! 🖤

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, kissing, hair pulling, biting, scratching, unprotected sex, creampie, fluffy filth

Word Count: 1.8k | unedited

.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅

“Don’t sweat it okay?” Sam assures, “It’s okay. Your job is.. complicated sometimes.”

You let out a sigh, “I know, but tomorrow is your birthday Sam.. I just.. I hate to miss it.”

“Listen.” Sam pauses, “The only person I really care about spending my birthday with, is you. And if I have to celebrate it another day, that’s fine by me. I’m okay, baby. I promise.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, y/n.” He chuckles, “I’m sure.”

“You’re sure you’re sure?”

“Y/n.”

“Okay.” You laugh, “I’ll let you know when I land in Florida. We’re about to take off here soon, so..”

“Safe travels. I’ll talk to you later, okay? I love you.”

“I love you.”

You hang up and look at Tara, “He’s going to be so mad at me for lying to him.” She shakes her head, “I don’t think he’ll be mad. You’re lying for good reason.”

“Yeah.” You nod, “I think you’re right.”

You rest your head back, staring out the window as you see people move down on the ground by the plane. You felt bad, but also, you felt proud.

You managed to get out of work early enough to make it home for Sam’s birthday, but you, Tara, and Colby managed to keep it under lock and key the last few days.

You knew Sam sounded sad, but he was trying to be happy for you.

You couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he seen you, specifically on his birthday.

.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅

“So he doesn’t want to do anything?” You look at Colby and scoff, “I know I didn’t.. ruin it.. but I feel like I did.”

Colby shakes his head, “He just misses you. You’ve been gone a week, and it’s not your fault that you had to be away when it was his birthday, he knows that.”

You sigh, “I know, but I just hope that me coming home actually helps.”

“Oh it will.” Colby chuckles, “He spent hours last night rambling on about how he feels bad for being sad, but I told him the same thing as I told you, don’t feel bad. It’s normal.”

You take a deep breath as you see the house come into view and you can’t help but shake a little with excitement, “So where is he?”

“Upstairs. He chose to edit our video. Jake wanted to take him out but he refused.”

“I’ll get him out of the house.” You smirk at Colby, “Don’t worry.”

You get out, stepping back to the back passenger door and Colby walks around, talking quietly, “Go. I’ll bring them in.”

You nod, looking towards house, and you can’t help but smile. You walk to the front door, quietly sneaking inside and looking around.

You hear music playing from upstairs, and you make your way towards the steps. You tiptoe to Sam’s door, peaking around the opening.

His back is facing you, laptop on his lap as he clicks away.

“How are you going to celebrate your birthday if you’re too into that video?”

Sam whips around, laptop falling to the floor as he stands up, “Oh my.. god. How are you-“ he rushes over to you, wrapping you tightly in a hug, “How are you here!?”

Your arms wrap his neck, “I just am.”

“What about work, you won’t get-“

“Sam.” You lay a hand over his mouth, “I took care of everything..” you raise your brows, “okay?”

He nods and tilts his head back to get his mouth uncovered, “Fine, then give me a kiss.”

You smile, leaning in to press your lips to his.

It instantly deepens.

Sam reaches behind you, pushing his door closed as he walks backwards towards the bed. He sits down, your legs on either side of his hips and you grind down.

He lets out a low groan against your lips, “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

You kiss back his jaw, “I’ve missed you, too, birthday boy.” You nip his ear with your teeth, “since that’s what you are, I’ll let you do anything you want to me.”

You feel his body tense at your words, his hands tighten their grip on your hips, “Oh, really?”

You lean back, your hands sliding down his chest to grip the hem of his shirt, “oh really.” You smirk, pushing his shirt up his chest and pulling it over his head, “Anything you want.”

He bites his lip, tilting his head as his eyes trail down your body on his lap, “I can think of one thing.”

You reach down, gripping your shirt to pull it up over your head, “Ooh, do tell.”

His hands slide up and down your sides, “Mm, in a minute.” He pulls you back in, leaning back to lay down as your lips meet his.

His hands slide down to your ass, gripping tightly.

He rolls over, his hand sliding around your hip to slip his fingers into the band of your leggings, “I think..” he bites his lip, eyes meeting yours as he slides his hand in to press his fingers to your clit, “I want to fill that perfect little pussy of yours.”

You let out a quiet moan, “Yes.”

“Yeah?” Sam raises his brows, his fingers adding pressing as they circle, “You alright with that?”

“So alright with that.” You pull him in to close the space, biting down on his lip which earns a gasp from him, “Can I do something first?”

“Of course.” Sam pulls his hand out, moving to sit up, but you stop him with a hand on his chest, “Lay back.”

He smirks, knowing exactly what you’re about to do.

“Just lay back, and enjoy this.” You look up at him, “Birthday boy.”

“I’ll do anything for you.” He smiles and you playfully roll your eyes as you shrug his pants and boxers down his thighs.

You were gone a week, but it felt like years.

Your lip pulls between your teeth as your eyes scan up and down his hard cock that springs free from its hold, “I’ve missed you.” You look up at Sam and he nods, “I can agree to th-“

He gasps as your lips wrap around the tip of his cock, tongue swirling over it, “F-fuck.” His hand moves to lay on your head, “That’s it.”

You take more of him in, tilting your head forward as your tongue flattens around the underside.

Your hands press to his thighs as you work your head in a steady rhythm.

“Oh shit.” He groans, “So good at this, baby. Fuck.”

You hum slightly, sending pleasure to radiate through his lower half. He moans louder, bucking his hips as he holds your head still, “Just like that, sweetheart.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, moaning around him as his fingers tangle your hand around them, pulling hard.

He lifts your head up, pulling you towards him with the grip on your hair. His lips connect to yours as your hands move to push down your pants.

You lean back, kicking them off before straddling his lap. His lip pulls between his teeth as he watches you line yourself up with him, “God you are so beautiful.”

You smirk, jaw falling slack as you sink down onto him slowly. A long moan leaves your lips as your nails dig into his shoulders, “Fuck, Sam. I’ve needed you so bad.”

He nods, “I’ve needed you.”

He reaches up, pulling you down to kiss you once more, “You feel so fucking good.”

You move your hips up and down, rolling them forward and back, moaning with each movement.

Your hand slides up to his hair, tugging to tilt his head back as you kiss down his neck. He groans lowly as you bite and suck a mark into his neck, bucking his hips upward which earns a moan from you.

Your pace quickens, slamming down onto him as your nails drag down his chest.

He groans, gripping your wrists and pinning them behind you to your lower back. He holds you in place as he thrusts upward into you.

Your moans ring through his ears, causing him to moan, “You sound so beautiful.”

“I love making you feel good.”

“I love making you sound like this.”

“Your pussy is going to look so pretty with my cum dripping out of it.”

His words make you gasp, “Fuck, yes Sam. Please.”

He groans into your neck, letting go of your wrists before rolling you over onto your back. His thrusts pick up, hard and fast, “Yes what, baby?”

Your back lifts off the bed, pleasure radiates through your body as you approach your peak, “F-fuck, Sam.” You moan out loudly, “I want you to fill my pussy.”

He groans at your words, “They’re so much hotter when you say it.”

His lips attack yours, quickly moving down to litter your skin with purple marks. Your nails drag up his back, leaving red lines in their path, “Fuck, fuck don’t stop, don’t stop!”

You cry out repeatedly, your legs tightening around his hips as he guides you through your high.

“That’s it, baby.” Sam groans, “You feel so good, look so pretty when you cum.”

You whimper at his words, your body jolting with each thrust of pleasure that enters your body over and over again.

All you can do is moan.

“Right there with you.” Sam moan, “Fuck, fuck.”

He pushes his weight up, holding himself up with his arm by your head. His hand lays on your cheek as his eyes lock onto yours.

His thrusts grow sloppy, slowing down as you feel his cock start to twitch inside of you.

This was something you and Sam were always so careful about not doing, but you had a feeling that this was the first day of something that wasn’t ever going to end - and you didn’t want it to.

You moan at the feeling, biting down onto your lip as his slow thrusts come to a stop.

He sits up, staring down as he slowly pulls out of you.

He smirks, biting down into his lip, “Fuckin’ beautiful.”

You feel your cheeks turn warm and you laugh slightly as he gets up, “Was it everything you’ve ever hoped it would be?”

“Oh baby.” Sam walks back over with a towel, “It was everything and more.” He leans down, pecking your head before he lets you wipe off.

You watch as he looks around for his pants and you tilt your head, “Ready to celebrate your birthday now?”

Sam shrugs, “I mean.. what do you have in mind because it’s probably something a lot different than what’s in mine.”

You smirk, getting up onto your knees, “I mean.. I want to take you out.. but..” you reach out for him, “Another round couldn’t hurt.”

Sam smirks and drops his pants, “Maybe you can read my mind.”

.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Thank you so much for being patient. I kind of rushed through this one so my apologies if it seemed that way. I love you so much, thank you for reading my work! I’ll catch you in the next one! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Thanks (m, cold)

Hi guys, thank you again for voting on which scenario you wanted to see for this fic! It's a bit of a slow burn, and idk how I feel about the ending, but Elijah is staunchly miserable by the end so hopefully that makes y'all happy 😅 let me know if you like it 🫶

Ps I've been writing this for literally the past 12 hours so I cannot look at it anymore, I'll read it over and edit errors in the morning but I need to get it out before it drives me insane lmao. 5.5k words under the cut :)

CW: male snz, colds, coughing, fever, contagion

There was nothing quite as depressing, Elijah decided, as the days leading up to Thanksgiving dinner service in a restaurant. Well, unless you were Greyson.

“Goooood morning, boss! Two days til the Big Day; are you pumped?”

Elijah turned his chair slowly towards the door, where the chef stood grinning unironically. He thought, not for the first time, that Greyson was likely some sort of dog in a past life – a golden retriever, or possibly a lab. One of those ‘no thoughts, just vibes’ dogs.

“Am I pumped?” Elijah asked, glaring at Greyson. “For a day that should be spent drinking shitty beer and eating my weight in carbs spent instead putting on a fake smile for people who don’t even think of us as human? For people who go out to eat literally once a year, and make sure they do it on a holiday so they can feel powerful by forcing a restaurant to serve them, then complain about the price and stiff my servers? Am I pumped to barely break even, even though the restaurant will be packed from ten am until close, because those same people staunchly refuse to pay more than eighty bucks a head to stuff themselves silly? Am I pumped to listen to my staff complain all day, despite the fact that when each of them was hired, they were told in no uncertain terms that they would be working holidays?” Elijah clicked his pen closed loudly, stood to let Greyson through, and sat with him in tandem, his face set in anger the whole time. “No, Grey. I am not, in fact, pumped.”

Greyson broke their eye contact to wake his computer, the lecture obviously unexpected. “Clearly I should’ve read the room before opening my mouth,” he said, glancing back over at his boss briefly. “My bad, boss.”

Elijah, embarrassed that he’d let himself sink into such a state about something as stupid as a holiday service, pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Fuck. Sorry, Grey. You just caught me at a bad moment. I had two servers call out for today, I’m fuckin’ sweating because we really need everyone here for Thursday and neither of them are sure they’ll be good to come back in two days.”

“Hmm,” Greyson hummed, his eyebrows threading together. “That’s weird. I had Victor and Elise call out on my way in.”

Elijah felt his heart thump in his temple. “Did they say why?”

“I didn’t ask,” Greyson said, turning his chair to face his boss. “But I guess I should’ve. Did the servers say why they couldn’t come in?”

“Some sort of fever-cold thing, is what Jason said he had. Ashley just said she felt like shit.” Elijah pressed his fingers into his eye and sighed. “I need a cigarette. Care to join?”

Greyson, never one to turn down nicotine in any form, stood from his chair. “Thought you’d never ask,” he said.

The two of them walked through the empty kitchen in silence, Elijah entirely too wrapped in his own thoughts to continue their conversation. There was an ongoing joke, a trope, at this point, about holidays in the restaurant; everyone was always sick for them. Last Easter, the servers all had bronchitis, and a couple of Valentine’s days ago, Greyson had so many cooks call out with the stomach flu that they’d had to hire last-minute temps to fill in on the line. Despite doing nearly 300 covers, they barely made enough to cover the immense labor that seven temps on a holiday cost.

“Lij,” Greyson said as the two of them stepped out the back door and sat on the milk crates littering the loading dock, “it’s not going to be like Valentine’s. I can see your fuckin’ gears turning.” The chef pulled a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, handed his boss one, and lit them both up. “Relax.”

Silence, once again, fell upon them as they smoked and watched fat snowflakes disintegrate on the asphalt. Elijah hoped that Greyson was right, that everything would be fine and he was overreacting – but he knew better than to hope. More likely than not, it was going to be what it always was on holidays: a shit show.

Matt and Mark, hand-in-hand until they spotted their bosses by the door, turned the corner and waved to their counterparts in tandem like well-trained circus animals. Elijah couldn’t help but smile as their fingers unwove from one another.

“Morning,” Elijah called, stubbing out his cigarette. Greyson did the same, and the two of them stood to let the younger men into the building.

“Aren’t you freezing?” Mark asked rubbing his hands together as he pushed the door open. Elijah shrugged as he held the door open for the other two and walked in behind them.

“My rage keeps me warm,” he said, prompting a laugh from Greyson and an eye roll from the younger men. “How’re you guys?”

Mark shot a look at Matt as they all walked towards the office at the front of the kitchen. “I’m well,” he said, pointedly. Elijah nearly stopped in his tracks when he glimpsed Matt glaring at his boyfriend.

“Matt…?” Greyson asked, an attempt at giving his sous chef a get-out-of-jail-free card. There was silence as the three of them turned, expectantly, towards Matt.

“I’mb good,” the sous said, his voice cracking on the second syllable. Elijah audibly groaned, Mark winced, and Greyson bit his cheek to keep from laughing at the absurdity.

“Well, you certainly sound great,” Greyson said, palming Matt’s shoulder aggressively. “Would you like to go home and sleep that off?”

“Yes, he -”

“Ndo,” Matt said, cutting Mark off and shooting him a look. “I wandt to help prep.I’mb – hh! hh’NGTSH-uh!” Matt turned and pulled his coat up over the bottom half of his face to sneeze, then quickly gathered himself and stood up straight. “I’mb fine,” he said, convincing no one.

Elijah closed his eyes briefly and sighed through his nose; fortunately or unfortunately, he knew exactly why Matt hadn’t called off.

The week prior, Elijah and Greyson had dolled out raises and bonuses for the staff; this year was Matt’s fifth as sous chef. Greyson had basically written a dissertation of why his sous chef should be given a new title – Executive Sous – along with a significant raise and bonus. It hadn’t taken much convincing; Elijah knew exactly how hard Matt worked, and staying at the same restaurant as a sous chef for five years was nearly unheard of in this city, especially for someone as young as Matt. He and Greyson had agreed that Matt’s loyalty to the restaurant deserved to be compensated, and had surprised him before his day off with the new title and pay.

Matt had been surprised – shocked was probably a better word for it, honestly – and had confided in Elijah after Greyson had dipped early to meet up with a date that he felt like he didn’t deserve the raise.

“You do,” Elijah had said, laughing lightly. “We wouldn’t have given it to you if you didn’t deserve it.”

The younger man had shaken his head. “I just… I mean, Greyson is here way more than me. I get two days off mostly, and he doesn’t let me work longer than ten hours. And I love it here, you guys don’t need to, like, worry about me leaving if that’s what this is about.”

Elijah had given Matt a confused look. “Greyson should be here more than you, first of all he’s a partner, not just the chef, and secondly, he gets paid very well to be here eighty hours a week. That’s his choosing. You’re his employee – if you were here as much as he was and getting paid significantly less, that wouldn’t be fair. And we’re glad you love it here, but that’s not why we gave you the raise. We gave it to you because you’re a hard worker, and you deserve to be compensated for what you do.” Elijah had smiled at Matt, patted his knee, and finished with, “Don’t sell yourself short.”

Matt had just smiled back and nodded, but Elijah knew he hadn’t changed his mind about ‘being undeserving’. Elijah knew, via background checks that were performed by his off-site HR company, and via Mark being a blabbermouth the second he got a glass of wine in him, that Matt had been a bit of a troubled kid; he’d been bounced from one foster home to another as a kid, and then one juvenile detention hall to another as a teenager. Only when he’d dropped out of high school and gotten a job as a dishwasher at a Denny’s did he finally decide it was time to shape up. He’d worked his way into the diner’s kitchen, then a slightly nicer kitchen, and when he was 20, he’d shown up at the front door of Elliot’s in an ill-fitting suit with a speech about how he was ready to work somewhere that he could hone his passion, even if they couldn’t pay him a dime. Greyson had hired him on the spot, not even consulting Elijah, despite only having been the executive chef for a few months.

Elijah knew Matt felt that he owed Greyson, not the other way around, and this promotion and raise was the nail in that coffin of doubt. He knew there was no way Matt would go home, no matter how shitty he felt.

Greyson just shrugged at his sous chef’s denial of being sick. “If you want to stay, I’m not going to make you leave,” he said, walking into the office and changing from his sweatshirt into his chef’s coat. “Just don’t sneeze on the food.”

Matt rolled his eyes and stripped off his jacket to put his own chef’s coat on. “Yes, Chef,” he said, coughing into his elbow. Mark and Elijah exchanged sidelong looks.

“Are you feeling okay?” Elijah asked his junior manager. Mark smirked, hiked his laptop bag further onto his shoulder, and started towards the dining room – his makeshift office.

“Never better, boss,” he said, pushing through the swinging doors. “Never better.”

***

“So, is he coming in tomorrow?”

Greyson lolled his head to the side, hands still on his keyboard, and deadpanned Elijah. “The fuck do you think?”

Elijah pulled a hand down his face and nodded. “Yeah, okay, just wanted to check.”

While Matt had been relatively fine the first few hours of the shift, by the time the last guests had eaten, the sous had been so staunchly miserable that Greyson had marched his ass into the office, thrown his jacket over his shoulders, and pointed towards the back door. “Go. Home. Now.”

“Chef, I – HTSHH! Hh-! GTSH-uh!” Matt wrenched to the side, collapsing into a post-sneeze coughing fit that made the cooks flinch from five yards away.

“You’re not fine,” Greyson insisted. “You’re sick, and you’re going to get everyone else sick.”

Matt nodded, miserable, and hung his head. “Sorry, Chef,” he muttered, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his jacket.

“Go,” Greyson said. “And come back when you’re well.”

Mark had taken Matt home in an Uber, and the cooks and servers had been able to leave relatively early, which left Elijah, Greyson, and a bottle of whiskey between them on the desk to figure out how they were going to handle the rest of the week.

Greyson sighed and reached for the bottle as he pushed away from his computer screen. He took a long pull and handed the bottle to Elijah, who followed suit. “I just… I don’t understand why he’d come in that sick,” Greyson said, pulling his hair to the top of his head and securing it with a rubber band from their drawer of office supplies. Elijah had to pull the bottle away from his lips to laugh. “What?” Greyson asked.

“You, of all people, can’t understand why he came in sick?” Elijah asked, incredulous. “You?”

“What do you mean me?” Greyson asked, snatching the bottle back. “If anything, he learned it from watching you.”

“Oh, spare me, Greyson,” Elijah rolled his eyes. “For awhile there, you literally came in sick three weeks a month.”

Greyson scoffed. “At least I’ve never passed out on the kitchen floor.”

“Yes, you have.”

“No, I almost passed out. You actually fuckin’ swooned. Collapsed in a puddle. Full damsel in distress.” Greyson took another pull and placed the bottle back on the desk. “So don’t come for me unless I send for you.”

Elijah guffawed at this. “Who taught you that saying?” he asked. Greyson shrugged.

“I heard one of the servers using it. I like it.”

“The servers are twenty years old, you dinosaur. The last thing they want is Grandpa Greyson using their jargon.”

“Fuck off, if anyone here is a grandpa it’s…” Greyson stopped suddenly, held up a finger, let his eyes flutter shut, then let out a shaky breath. “Fuck, that’s annoying.” He rubbed his nose on the back of his hand, then raised an eyebrow at his boss, whose face had drawn into concern. “What?”

“What was that?” Elijah asked, glancing over at the bottle of whiskey they’d spent the past hour sharing.

“I just thought I was going to – oh,” Greyson’s eyes widened. “No, dude, relax, I’m totally fine. I feel great.”

“‘Buzzed’ and ‘great’ are two different things, Grey,” Elijah said. He reached up to feel Greyson’s forehead, prompting the chef to lean back in his chair.

“Great as in healthy,” he insisted, shooing Elijah’s hand away. “Seriously, I’d let you know if I – HRRTSHHH-ue!” He caught the sneeze in his elbow – barely – and choked back an irritated cough. From the crook of his arm, he heard Elijah swear.

“I’m going to end your fuckin’ life, I swear to God,” Elijah muttered, pushing the bottle further onto Greyson’s side of the desk. “You let me drink from the same bottle as you, you dick.”

“I’m fine, Elijah, Christ it was one sneee – hh! - hh…” Greyson tipped his head back in anticipation, then lowered and shook it when the feeling once again dissipated. “See? Totally fine.” He sniffled – convincing, Grey – and immediately changed course. “Plus, it’s alcohol. It’s an antiseptic.”

“It one million percent is not,” Elijah said, rubbing his temples in defeat. “Greyson, you cannot be sick. We cannot be sick. How the hell are we going to be able to run Thanksgiving?”

“Elijah,” Greyson said, “listen. I am fine. Everything is going to be just fi – ITSHH-ue!” Greyson pitched forward into his palm and cringed. Elijah, begrudgingly, slammed the box of tissues they kept on a side table in front of the chef.

“Bless you,” he said while Greyson cleaned himself up. “And, I mean this from the bottom of my heart: fuck. You.”

***

“Hhh-! Huh… hnnn.”

“Bless you.”

“Oh, screw you, Lij,” Greyson muttered for the millionth time that day. He grabbed what felt like his hundredth tissue and blew his nose – only for the feeling to reignite. “Huhhh! Hhh...hh… guhh.” Greyson rubbed his nose again and angrily spiked the tissue into the trash can beneath his prep station.

“Bless you,” Elijah said again, mocking.

“You kndow,” Greyson said, turning towards his boss, who was seated in the office, not looking Greyson’s way. “Karma is going to combe for you for being an asshole to mbe.”

At this, Elijah glanced towards Greyson. “Karma? No, karma is having a cold and not being able to sneeze because you let your friend drink out of the same bottle as you when you knew you were getting sick. That’s karma, and you got what was coming to you.”

“Fuuhhh! Huh! Hh...fuck,” Greyson grumbled, coughing into his shoulder.

“Karma is also giving your sous chef a lecture about being sick at work, only to be get sick and have to come into work because you’re technically the most well of all the sick cooks and chefs.”

“Are you finished?” Greyson asked, throwing his hands in the air. “I get it. And to be fair, I did ndot kndow I was getting sick.” The chef sucked in painfully through his nose and collapsed into coughs once again.

“Mmhmm,” Elijah mumbled. When it seemed like Greyson wasn’t going to be able to stop the coughing, he took pity and got up to make the chef tea.

“Here,” Elijah said, slamming a paper cup in front of Greyson. “Drink it. Sickie.”

Greyson, unable to come up with a proper comeback, just did as he was told. “How mbany on the books tonight?” he croaked. Elijah sighed, pulled up his phone, and slid it towards Greyson. “Fuck,” Greyson said when he saw the number.

“All the people in the city who aren’t coming in tomorrow decided tonight was the night, apparently,” Elijah said, taking his phone back and putting it in his pocket. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked, in earnest.

Greyson nodded. “It’s ndot too bad,” he said, taking another sip of tea. “Just wish I could fuckigg sndeeze.”

Elijah huffed out a laugh. “You’re sure you don’t want to call Matt in?”

“Definitely no – hh! Huh...hhhITSHHHZUE! Oh thank fuckigg God – HUHHESTCH-ue! Hh! Hnn...HuhhhETSCHH-ue! HTSSHH-ue!”

Elijah whistled, long and low, and pushed the box of tissues towards Greyson. “Wow,” he said. “Bless.”

Greyson rolled his eyes as he took a handful of tissues and cleaned himself up. “See?” he said once he’d thrown them away and washed his hands, “Good as new. HTSSHH-ue!”

Elijah chuckled. “Sure, Chef,” he said, moving towards the doors to the dining room. “Whatever you say.”

***

In his thirty-nine years on earth, Elijah had learned a lot about himself. He’d learned that he was a hothead, and he had to really think about the repercussions of what was going to come out of his mouth if he wanted to keep the person he was talking to in his life. He’d learned that he was incapable of whistling, juggling, or any other party trick – but he could pull out a fantastic rendition of Queen’s Somebody to Love during karaoke, and that was enough to make him seem like he was fun at parties. He’d learned that he loved to have his own space, and should he ever find a partner, he knew they’d have to have separate bedrooms. And he had learned exactly what it felt like when he was getting sick.

Like… really sick.

When Greyson said things like, “I didn’t know I was getting sick,” it truly did not register to Elijah. Maybe it was because Greyson’s illnesses always seemed to be some sort of mixed bag – starting differently every time, with symptoms that varied wildly – or maybe it was because he just didn’t tune in to how he was feeling. Greyson always said he basically tried to ignore his body until it forced him to pay attention; maybe that was something that Elijah needed to attempt. Because Elijah… Elijah knew exactly when and how badly he was getting sick every single time.

It had started that afternoon, mere hours after he’d given Greyson shit about exposing him to this illness, the way it always did – with the type of sore throat that made you feel weak in your knees. Elijah had swallowed, then immediately felt dizzy with the pain that surged in his throat. Oh, he thought, touching his neck. Oh, no.

He was, of course, a creature of habit and attempted all his usual ways to quell the pain – cups of tea hidden in paper sleeves, lozenges he hoped Greyson was too stuffed up to smell on his breath, handfuls of ibuprofen – to no avail. By the time dinner service came around he could hear the rasp in his voice and, despite the ibuprofen, could feel the ache in his joints that meant he’d already made it to stage two; fever.

This was how he knew he was going to be down badly. If he could ride the sore throat past the fever and straight into congestion, he might be able to get away with just a normal cold. But if that fever set in before any other symptoms, it was all over.

“Yo,” Greyson said, approaching his boss post pre-shift. “Cand we quickly talk about the semantics of tomborrow’s buffet before people get here?”

Elijah lifted his heavy head from his pre-shift notes and blinked in Greyson’s direction. “Okay,” he said, brilliantly. Greyson’s eyebrows knit together, concerned.

“You good?” he asked, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. Elijah nodded slowly – surely, if Greyson was able to push through this illness with such ease, he was just being a baby about it. He swallowed through the knives in his throat and nodded.

“Just a headache,” he said. “What do you want to talk through?”

“Just wanted to see how mbany cooks you think I should have on the buffehh....ETSZHCHH-ue!” Greyson directed a massive sneeze into his elbow, and Elijah’s head about exploded with pain.

“Christ,” Elijah muttered, pressing his palm into his eye. Greyson muffled a cough into his sleeve and shook his head to clear it.

“Fuck, ‘scuse mbe,” he said, looking back at his boss. “Umb. Did I get you or something?”

Something like that, Elijah thought as he shook his head. “No,” he said. “You’re just loud, and my head hurts.” He pulled out his phone, looked at the cover spread for the next day, and said, “Three cooks on the buffet. One for omelets, one for prime rib carving, one for dessert bar.” He looked up at Greyson for his confirmation. “What?” he asked.

“You just… look like you’re in pain,” Greyson said, carefully. “Did you take -?”

“Yes, I took ibuprofen,” Elijah cut him off. “Go make sure your guys are ready for tonight. Take a decongestant so they can understand you. I’ll be back there in a minute.”

Greyson pursed his lips, but didn’t argue. “Yes, sir,” he said, and left Elijah to brood.

By some stroke of luck, the third inevitable stage of Elijah’s illness didn’t hit him until after they’d finished service. He was checking the lead server’s station so she could go home, when suddenly it felt like a thousand bees collected in his sinuses.

“Yeah, looks good Riley, thanks, see you in the mo – IGTSHH-uhh! HSTSH-ue! HhhhINTSZH-ue!” Elijah wrenched to the side, the sneezes so sudden he barely had time to cover his mouth.

“Yikes,” Riley said, taking a step away from her boss. “Bless you.”

“Thanks,” Elijah muttered, pinching his nose to quell the itch.

“You pick up whatever has everyone else out this week?” she asked, taking off her apron. Elijah shook his head.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “Have a good night.”

With all the servers gone, Elijah slunk back into the kitchen and sunk into his office chair, his head in his hands. He was not prepared to do a whole holiday service feeling like this. This was nightmarish, and he’d only felt sick for nine hours. Tomorrow? Tomorrow was going to be -

“Hey, bless you,” Elijah sat up and turned around at the accusation to see Greyson standing at the office door with his arms crossed. “Could’ve heard those from fuckin’ space.”

Elijah rolled his eyes, painfully. “Whatever,” he said, powering his computer up to finish the night’s paperwork. “You’re one to talk, I don’t think you’ve gone three seconds without -”

“HRRSHH-oo!” Greyson cut him off with a comically-timed sneeze directed into the collar of his shirt.

“-that,” Elijah finished.

Greyson grabbed a tissue and wiped his nose. “Yeah, but it’s been well-established that I have a cold. I was under the impression that you were still -”

“HTSHH! HRSHH! Huh-! HuhhESTZHH-ue!” Elijah once again collapsed in on himself, head both buzzing and pounding, the explosive sneezes grating the back of his throat.

“- well,” Greyson finished, and moved into the office to sit by his boss. Just as Elijah looked up from his lap, Greyson slapped a hand on his forehead.

“Enough,” Elijah said, pushing Greyson’s palm off. Greyson put both his palms on his knees and gave Elijah a knowing look.

“So, you’ve been sick all day, or…?”

“Greyson,” Elijah said, clearing his throat, “I’m fine.”

“You have a fever, Lij. Like, a pretty significant one.”

He knew, and he had known, but the words made Elijah’s eyes well and his throat close all the same. God, he hated having a fucking fever and all the stupid, ridiculous emotions that went along with it. Elijah took a breath, closed his eyes to collect himself, and addressed the chef.

“I’m not feeling 100%,” he said. “But I will be fine. You are sick – if I’m not 100%, then you must be at like 10% at this point.”

“I don’t have a fever,” Greyson pointed out, taking Elijah’s hand and placing it on his cool head. “See?”

Elijah bit his cheek to keep from snapping. “Alright,” he said. “Whatever. Still, you need to go home; it’s a big day tomorrow.”

“I will when you do,” Greyson said, shrugging. Elijah, completely spent, and done arguing, just turned off his computer – paperwork be damned for the night.

“Fine,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender. “Let’s call it a night.”

Greyson, clearly confused, just raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Alright boss,” he said, grabbing his jacket. “See you tomorrow.”

***

If there was one thing Greyson knew about Elijah, it was this: if you wanted him to admit defeat, you had to corner him.

When he woke up at oh-dark-thirty that morning, Greyson felt lucky that he was no worse for the wear then he was the night before. Was he stuffed-up to the gills? Yes. Did he have an incessant, grating cough? Yeah. But ultimately, it was a cold, and he’d work through far worse many more times.

So, despite the fact that it was still dark out, Greyson donned his hoodie and set out for the restaurant. On the way to the early-morning subway, he called Matt.

“...Hello?” Matt answered on the third ring. “Chef?”

“Mbornin’ sunshine,” Greyson said, coughing into the receiver. “How’re you feeling?”

“Uh…” Matt said, attempting to gather his bearings. “Better. Am I supposed to be at the restaurant now? I thought I was scheduled at eight.” Greyson heard him push back a blanket and plant his feet on the floor. “You sound like shit, by the way. Sorry about that.”

“Inevitable,” Greyson said, a brush-off. “And you aren’t scheduled til eight, but I have sombe very important, pre-work, Executive Sous shit I ndeed your help with.”

“Sure, boss,” Matt said, and Greyson could hear him changing clothes, using mouthwash, and whispering goodbye to Mark. “Anything you need.”

“Good man,” Greyson said, pausing at the top of the subway steps. “Could you pick up cough drops, Mucinex, and a hot water bottle, if you see one? Oh, and a real blanket. I’ll Venmo you some mboney.”

“Uh, sure, boss. Is this… for you?”

“Not for me,” Greyson said, coughing into his sleeve. “For Elijah. He’s down bad.”

“Oh. Oh, shit,” Matt said. “Yeah, okay, for sure boss. Whatever you need.”

“Thanks, mban. Hey, I’mb about to head down to the subway, text mbe if you have any – hh! HTSHH-ue! Fuck, sorry,” Greyson wiped his nose on the back of his hand. “Mbaybe grab more tissues while you’re there,” he amended.

“Sure, Chef. Bless.”

“You’re the best, Mbatt. Always knew you’d make a perfect number two.”

Greyson could hear the eye roll through the phone. “Don’t get sappy, old man,” Matt said. “See you soon.”

***

To say Elijah felt like shit would’ve been the understatement of the century.

When he woke up that morning, Elijah was fairly sure he was dying. The fever he’d crawled into bed with hadn’t budged, his sinuses were packed, and he’d officially acquired the final gem on his sick-as-fuck gauntlet: the cough. This day was going to be absolute hell.

Elijah did his level best to get ready for the busy service; he managed to take about half a shower before he had to sit down, dizzy from exertion; he’d gotten one contact in before sneezing so hard he almost poked his eye out and settled on glasses; he’d even found the strength to put on a pair of pants, though a button down was entirely too much for his shaking hands, so he settled on a cardigan that looked passable enough. God he hoped the servers – and Mark – would be able to hold down the fort out front, because this was nothing short of tragic.

Unwilling to deal with the subway and unable to drive safely in this state, Elijah settled on calling an Uber to work. It was early, a little before eight, but he knew if he didn’t get there now, he’d never make it.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” the driver said, leaving Elijah to immediately regret his decision not to drive. “Pretty early to be up and at ‘em. You heading to see family?”

Elijah cleared his throat as best he could before begrudgingly responding to the driver. “Ndot quite,” he said, his voice strained and congested. “Worki – HGSTHH-ue! HRSSH! ETSZCH-uh!” Elijah attempted to hold back the sneezes, unsuccessfully. Sans any tissues, he wiped his nose on his sweater sleeve. “Excuse mbe, sorry.”

“Working and sick on a holiday?” the driver said, shaking his head. “That’s rough, man. Bless you.”

Elijah’s face flamed, but he was in no state to deny. “Yeah,” he said instead. “Thangks.”

The rest of the drive was in blessed silence, and Elijah made sure to tip the guy extra for being exposed to whatever plague he was walking around with. When he finally pushed through the back door of the restaurant, Elijah felt like he’d already lived a lifetime today; he really wasn’t sure how much he’d be able to take.

“Elijah!” Greyson’s voice reached him before Elijah could even see his face. “Happy Thanksgiving, you sick old fuck!”

Elijah turned the corner and almost burst into tears – there stood Greyson, his face pale and nose bright red, and Matt and Mark looking no better, outside of his office; his office that had been, essentially, turned into a cozy-looking bedroom.

There were blankets on the floor, the chairs removed, and medicine on the desk. The harsh office light had been shut off, and instead one of the lamps from the host stand glowed gently from behind the computer. And, perhaps most heart-rendering, in Greyson’s hand was a bowl of steaming soup, and in Matt’s, a cup of tea.

“I know you hate working the holidays, and feeling like shit is just insult to injury,” Greyson said, setting down the bowl so he could guide Elijah into the office. “So we thought we’d mbake it just a little less shitty.”

Elijah allowed himself to be lead in, unable to find the words to thank his friend. He turned into his elbow to cough, a welcome respite from the tears he could feel threatening to spill over. “Grey,” he said when he’d gathered himself. “I… this is so… you guys…” he swallowed around the lump in his throat and shook his head. “I don’t kndow what to say,” he said, looking up at Greyson. “Thangk you.”

“Ah, save it,” Greyson said, placing a hand on his friend’s back. “You’re always looking after us. Call it our Thanksgiving to you.”

Elijah smiled a little, punched Greyson’s arm lightly, and allowed himself to be pulled into a hug. Heading to see family? the Uber driver had asked him. Maybe he had been, after all.

[bug-bites]

whatcha lookin at buddy? :3

tw: none!! just some silly fluffy romantic hcs, also not edited bc im just an eepy lil guy

pairing: rodolfo "rudy" parra x gn!reader

summary: uhhh your boyfriend shares his silly little late night habit with you or something

characters: rodolfo "rudy" parra

notes: i never know what to title these things also i know the formatting is ugly!! i wrote this in my notes app and was too lazy to make it look decent,, <(＿　＿)>

rudy never was one to sleep early, in all honesty he seemed to do the complete opposite. he would always go to bed hours later after you. you never understood why.

it wasn't anything that made you suspicious, he wouldnt go far, most of the time he would still be at home, just outside. it was just odd, but it didnt seem like anything bad?

one night you woke up and there was an unfamiliar emptiness beside you, rudy wasnt there next to you like he was right before you fell asleep

its the middle of the night what else would this guy be doing at 2am??

so you're panicking a bit, you wake up and your boyfriend isnt next to you. sure maybe hes just pissing but you're tired and logic isnt the first thing that comes to mind

you call out for him, your throat a bit dry after you've just woken up and it comes out a bit more panicked than you intended

you sit up, eyes scanning the room looking for him- any sign of him

a sigh of relief leaves your lips, he's there. he's in your bedroom, back turned to you as he gazes upwards, out the window.

as soon as he hears his name his head whips around, why are you panicking?? whats going on?? did something happen? did you have a nightmare? most importantly, are you okay?

but he hears your sigh and you mumble something under your breath. he closes the curtains and walks towards you, gently cupping your cheek

"qué pasa?" "sorry i just- you weren't next to me and i just panicked" "nothing to be sorry for."

his voice is soft, barely above a whisper. he runs his thumb along your cheekbone, holding your cheek so tenderly it feels like you're about to melt

"it's okay. im right here."

"what were you doing?" you ask him, its about damn time he tells you anyways and you're getting curious about his strange nighttime habit "you'll find out tomorrow. its better if its a surprise." he kisses your forehead and climbs back into bed with you. "what if i dont want it to be a surprise?" "well thats not up to you. now go to sleep, cariño"

one his arms snake around your waist, the other making its way under your head, like a pillow but better

the next night, as soon as it gets dark he finally lets you in on his not so secret secret.

he grabs your hand, your fingers intertwining with his and leads you outside to a picnic blanket

"its a bit late for a picnic." you say with a yawn

he rolls his eyes as he walks over to the blanket, lying down flat on his back. you do the same, curious to what his next move was.

"stop looking at me and look up" he says with a chuckle

you listen to him and look up, hundreds of stars scattered in the distant sky. its calm, the sounds of the crickets chirping, his hand in yours, your back flat against the picnic blanket, its so serene you almost forget to breathe

"i used to do this all the time when i was younger." rudy says, breaking the silence "i would set up a mat outside and me and alejandro would lie there for hours until my mamá would yell at us to come back inside"

you look over at him, just for a second and catch him smiling as he reminisces

"i like to look at the stars when i get overwhelmed. reminds me i how small i am in the universe" "thats a bit melancholic, dont you think? the idea that we're so much smaller than the universe. like we dont matter as much as we think" you say, "i dont think of it like that. its like the world is bigger than my problems, it continues and theres so much more than just my troubles." he replies, eyes fixated on the stars "well when you put it that way, it sounds pretty nice"

the next few minutes are spent with rudy teaching you some basic constellations like the big and small dipper and then moves onto the more complex ones like ursa minor, andromeda and orion.

each constellation he points out comes with a story, as great as they look you cant help but watch him as he tells you all about them. its something he loves so deeply, you can tell from the way the corners of his mouth turn upwards as he describes them to you, the look of amazement in his eyes even though he's seen the stars hundreds of times. you cant help but fall more for him with every word he says

"i wish we met earlier. before when i was younger you could see so much more than just ...this. i wish i could've shown it to you" his tone becomes slightly bittersweet.

you don't exactly know what to say, you just wrap an arm around his torso, you mutter a soft "i know" right before you press a kiss to his cheek

the next time you two go stargazing its when you go camping together, although sure its not just in your backyard its as close as you can get with just enough clarity in the sky to see everything rudy wanted to show you :]

taglist: @pygm4li0n

[rookthorne]

Your writing is phenomenal 🤎

What advice or research/resource tips could you give a writer newly trying to get into more mature-explicit (All natures- battles, love making, whump) scenes or fics ? 🥹

hello, my darling! thank you for your kind words! 🥰

firstly, can I just say that it's a lil' surreal that people are coming to me for advice...? I was in your shoes not that long ago now, and it's blowing my mind that sweethearts such as yourself are asking me for the tips and tricks. like damn, this is insane. ANYWAY

my advice will be under the cut, because, as per usual, I can't shut the fuck up - but this once? it may actually be warranted! 🤣

one thing I live by, that you first have to get into your mind, is that you need to have something on the paper - no matter how bad you may think it is, you must have something on that document. you cannot edit, beta, or work with, a blank page.

this translates so well into mature and explicit works. when I first started, I couldn't write a cuddle scene without blushing (but yet I read the filthiest smut, go figure).

having a mental picture is also crucial to get this to work - whether you visualise, watch videos (p-rn, battle scenes, or medical shows, etc), or whether you follow reputable websites that provide facts - it is crucial to have this step, without it, you have nothing to work with.

this is where I tend to differ from other writers, so this may be one off advice, but I literally just write. I don't stop to think, I don't stop to listen to that voice that is telling me it's stupid. I write, and then edit later (cue my advice earlier - cannot edit a blank page).

I don't always research first.

GASP

I know, the horror, right?

sometimes that's the way it goes! while, yes, it is very important to have research backing your works, sometimes the muse just doesn't let you! and that's okay - because you can always go back over your work with a critical eye, rather than a creative one.

I am a firm believer in not stunting your creativity for reality, where you can help it.

but, alas, here I am not getting to the point.

do not, under any circumstance during your research, use Wikipedia. if you go to Wikipedia because you have no other choice, scroll to the bottom and go to those sources - more often than not, these are medical journals, and they do tend to be available for public perusing.

I learnt how to write smut via a previous beta, and she was very graceful in educating me the tricks of the trade. but you can also learn a lot from other writers - just by reading their works! that is how I got to the point that I am at now. I spent hours seeing the differences between writers, and I related what they did in their works to my own creations in the sense of flow, placement, and structure. sooner than later, I ended up mapping out scenes in my head, and if I wasn't sure on how something worked, I reached out to my fellow writers and asked for advice, or asked for a beta! if you feel that isn't an option, watching p-rn is a very good substitute in learning how it all works, or how a position would look, or just in general smuttiness. here is one of the guides that I used.

regarding battle scenes (god I fucking love writing them), it's important to get the ambience right, and the flow of movements without dragging on. it's such a fine balance and it is so fucking easy to tip the scales one way or another, rather than keeping it level. I am a history nerd when it comes to anything Norse/Viking, so I have background and knowledge to help my flow, but watching movies and shows (even documentaries!) is a big help! they will teach you the dynamic movement and flow of how someone would handle a sword, or an axe, or a shield. here is a good combat resource.

whump... oh, my beloved whump, how I fucking adore writing whump. but I have a penchant for torturing and snapping my glow sticks, not everyone is as torturous as me. 🤣

this is where research is the most important, or prior knowledge. I never attempt a whump fic or scene without researching first - it is the only exception to my above statement of not always doing it first.

WebMD is an excellent source for learning about illnesses and the courses of treatment, same with medical journals. I have a few tags on my blog: writing resources, writing tips, writing help - that will direct you to many blogs that have countless resources.

last but not least, reach out to as many writers that you can!

I can't speak for everyone, but I preach that my inbox is always open, both on here and discord, to ask for help or advice regarding anything - whether that be writing scenes, beta work, or just general advice regarding anything writing/creating/aesthetics/graphics! I have a big wheelhouse and I am more than willing to share what I know if it will help someone else, and you can be sure that if I don't know something, I won't stop until I know how to help. never be afraid to reach out to me if you need more help, I don't bite! 💗

I really hope my essay helped you, nonnie, I tried my best - even if I got a bit rambly, my bad 😅🤣

[pbandjesse]

Today was a pretty good day overall. I slept alright. I didn't get woken up a ton. I fell asleep easier. When I did wake up it was only a little after 7 and I wasn't sure if James had moved the car for street cleaning. So I texted them and laid down but didn't fall back asleep. Just rested my head.

Once James let me know that they had moved the car I would just lay in bed and scroll on my phone for a bit. But I would soon get up and get showered and dressed. I was annoyed that I love this outfit normally but I was just a bit uncomfortable today. My middle is getting rounder and that's fine but the elastic on these pants was slightly uncomfortable. Just a little bit.

Mainly I was focused on how much my feet hurt. The skin on the bottom of my feet felt like a bruise. I know couple days previous have been a lot of walking and standing and I guess it just really got to me.

I tried to not let it stop me. I was determined to get some studio stuff done. I would head downstairs and had the breakfast that James had left for me. I let Sweetp hang out outside. When I went out there I noticed that all the persimmons were gone! I am not sure if they were picked or fell but they weren't there anymore.

I had my breakfast and cleaned up and went to work in the studio. I was working on a few things. Putting things to the side and in a bag to work on at the market tomorrow. Putting all my printmaking stuff away, trying to make that cart a little neater. And then working on the teddy bear hospital patient.

This penguin needed some seam fixed, to be washed, to be restuffed, and a whole new beak. The original beak was just all torn up and worn down. So I chose a red orange fleece and tried to copy the side and pattern and I think I did a pretty good job! My plan is to sew the original beak into the stuffing so it's still a part of it.

I unstuffed the penguin before I went over all the seams and attached the new beak. I would then wash him in a bucket and put him outside to dry in the sun. Tomorrow I will brush him out and see if he needs more cleaning before he gets restuffed. I was really pleased with the work so far.

Once I was done that I spent a bit working on finishing some bears. I sewed their arms down and gave them faces and stuffed them. They will get sewn closed tomorrow.

I spent some time laying in bed. I cleaned up my nails. And I trimmed my bangs. But for a good while I was just resting. It was nice.

James let me know that I could come meet them at the museums at 130 and we could go get the tire fixed.

I would have a little lunch but would leave here around 1. Figuring I would get there early. But nope! Traffic was really bad. I had to sit at a light for three whole rotations before I could turn and it was just really terrible traffic downtown because of roadwork. But I got to the museum by 130. And it was fine.

I went into the museum. Used the bathroom. Watched James and Emma check in two young guys who were here for the museum. And then we were off.

I hate driving on the spare. It makes me so nervous so I'm just glad we didn't have to go to far.

We got to the dealership and we were hopeful that we wouldn't have to pay anything because we have the road hazards warranty. And once they let us know that it would be fixable we were told it would be covered and I am very pleased.

Didn't love waiting two hours but it wasnt so bad. I had brought my knitting squares to sew together. Which took barely 45 minutes. I ate a fig newton. I people watched. There were a dozen or so other people waiting. And it took a while but it wasn't so bad. And it was just nice sitting with James. They worked on their editing on their laptop. They also walked over to the Royal farms to get a coffee. We had some little laughs but everyone was being quiet so we were being respectful of that and just listening to the chatter from the sales floor.

The mechanics would text James that they wanted to see them. And apparently they were shocked by how large the "nail" was I drove over but was fixable and would take about another half hour. I didn't get a picture of it but it was basically a 4.5 inch pin for a trailer hitch. Absolutely wild. I'm glad it was fixable. And covered by the warranty.

We finished up there and we were going to go and pick up our pottery from amazing glaze but because the traffic was so bad still we just went home. I'll probably go grab the pottery tomorrow or Sunday. No real rush there.

I started falling apart in the car and James kept saying sorry for making me come with them but I was glad I went! I was just starting to not feel good, same thing that happens almost every day.

And we got home before the sun went down. James would make me spring rolls for dinner. And we lay in bed together. I was feeling a bit dizzy but it passed after eating so it was probably just that. And eventually I would take a bath. James heated up a kettle of water for me which made it a little nicer.

We have been laying in bed for a while now. Sweetp was here for a while and made my allergies go off but I took some medicine and that is starting to work. But I am just real tired now.

Tomorrow I have the farmers market. And it should be a nice day. I hope we have lots of people come out. It will be really nice to sit by the water.

I hope you all have a great day tomorrow. I hope you are feeling safe and taking care of yourself. I love you all. Goodnight!

[the-duckless-pond]

Well, I guess I’m done gaming for the day. I spent a few hours playing and had a very nice time, but I am having a very bad time now and can’t focus. I’m trying to type this on my iPad because I need support and everyone I talk to about these things is asleep, but it’s hard.

I am so afraid of moving my computer that I can’t get myself to turn it off for the night. It just went into sleep mode. I need to get up and turn it off, but what if I break it? I don’t have any compulsions to fix that worry, and I can’t do the things that make the worries go away until my computer is off. So I am stuck in a vicious loop of distress.

I keep typing the comma instead of the period. I’m not used to typing on iPads and my antipsychotic ruined my fine motor skills. I forgot to take that this morning, and things are getting kind of loud. I was focused on taking my anti depressant which I have not been wanting to take, and it took a while and I kind of forgot about my AP.

Okay. Getting up to try and turn off my computer now.

Update, I did almost all the things. Windows is updating and then shutting down, so I am watching it very closely. I always worry it won’t actually turn off after updating or that something bad will happen.

I don’t know. I had a really, really good time gaming this evening. I wish I could have beaten the game. It took me weeks to convince myself to boot up my PC, and I really wanted to beat the game tonight. Maybe I’ll get lucky and be able to do it tomorrow. I hope so.

Update, the lights on my tower are off. It is officially shut down. What a relief. I would go lay down now but my best friend isn’t up yet and I want to talk with her since it was a hard day for me. I will wait a few hours. Also my phone is charging and isn’t at full yet, and there isn’t an outlet by my bed. Maybe another hour or so until it’s charged. I don’t know when my BFF will get back to me. I’ll give it another hour or two before I call it quits and lay down if I don’t hear from her.

Not sure how to pass the time. My intrusive thoughts are very strong right now. Typically I would channel these symptoms into my writing, but I am on writing break until I move I have decided. It’s better that way. Not pushing myself, not stressing. I’ll try this weekend with some editing.

Okay, I am really over typing on the iPad. Maybe more venting when my phone is charged. Thanks for listening.

[castle-dominion]

I do not speak spanish but I know a little bit about it & I speak french so does anyone want to read an excerpt my crappy rough draft of a fic? No? Too bad here it is:

Esposito set the plates down on the coffee table & went to grab the pot. Ryan was sitting on the sofa already, turning on the subtitles for the movie they had decided upon. Esposito portioned out scoops of rice onto each plate, pork, peas, vegetables, & spice made an enticing aroma. Ryan sat crosslegged under a blanket & let his knee rest against Esposito. 

"Really?" Ryan asked. "You make me the national dish of Puerto Rico?"

Esposito made a disapproving look, mouth long across his face & eyebrows low. He blinked. "My mother knows how to make anything. I've only got a few recipes under my belt."

Ryan chuckled & took a sip from his water glass before picking up a forkful of arroz con gandules. "How's Mami doing, by the way?" 

Esposito covered his mouth politely to speak while eating, "She's good, I was going to call her this weekend but do you want to talk with her now?"

The man already had his phone out & Ryan actually felt like yeah, he did want to talk to Mami.

"Hola chico! Comme estas?" Mami's voice fuzzed through the speaker on the phone. 

"Hola Mami. Kevin esta la, nous parlos ingles, por favor?" 

Esposito's mom let out a coo & switched languages. "Keviiin! How are you?"

Ryan grinned at her enthusiasm. "Soy bien, Mami. Javi just made dinner & we're about to watch a movie."

"Ahhhhhh! Nothing too bad I hope!" 

The boys laughed at her concern. Esposito assured her that they were being responsible & Ryan asked her, "& como estas, Mami? How is swimming going?"

The sweet woman cooed again, "Amazing! The water gives me the support I need & I love the aerobics with the chiquitas."

Esposito beamed & congratulated her. "Well, we'd better let you go, we just wanted to say hi."

Esposito's mom solemnly gave an "Ahhhh," & thanked them for calling. "Muchos bisous, Kevin, Muchos bisous, Javier!" She gave them each a kiss through the phone, the boys bid goodbye simultaneously, & they ended the call. 

The boys smiled, filled with warmth from Mami's love.

I spent over four hours writing yesterday, initially as a joke trying to see if talk-to-transformer would be able to continue my fic. I just fed it smth small to see what it would say & it was funny & not right at all, but then I tried a larger chunk, & with the context it was able to write my a single sentence that I actually liked the gist of, so I changed it to actually work with my fic & started genuinely writing. I got on a roll & started writing from 22 or 23 last night, maybe even midnight, until 4.30 in the morning. Then I woke up about half past 11, had breakfast, listened to a song, got my computer set up, & started writing at around noon. I stopped writing at about 16.30.

Now here's the thing, I did a lot of copy-pasting around & so the formatting got wonky, I sometimes use initials instead of typing out someone's full name to save time & I can ctrl-h it later, there are many points when it is me talking not the character's voices, & the plot kind of got sideways. Not to mention, sometimes I leave notes to myself or parts of the plan/outline in the fic.

I could really use a beta reader. I know the story too well & would end up skimming.

I also know that I am not likely to fix things like "why did he tell beckett so easliy but hide it from castito?" & "why would I delete my casefic part? i worked hard on it!" or alternatively "Why would I finish the case part of it? This is not a casefic, it is about people & characters & relationships" I'd just leave it as-is.

Anyway here is the doc: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1whlOAAXQGYl7UdLW_5fiNtnw7N57MkiDuvy1oBCJjSU/edit?usp=sharing

anyone can read & use suggesting/commenting mode anywhere I have issues.

[surejo]

— ❄ task two: the video diary !

@hazelwiddecombe @cleoxortiz @ayliemonroe @rileyyxkim

with a printed out copy of the questions the producers had sent sitting on her lap ( because phones who ? ) – and with a lot of preparation, what from rehearsing her answers to getting into something nice, but not too nice – jo finally hit the record button... and immediately realized she had not rehearsed how she would introduce herself to a camera. furrowing her eyebrows as she attempted to think of a fitting way, her painted confusion was probably introduction enough. nonetheless, she gave in. 

“ hey, hello – i’m jo and i’m supposed to... record a video diary for you guys. so the producers sent some questions out for me to answer – probably to, like, stir the pot. ” there was no way they were going to keep these video diaries private – there was no way they weren’t going to show other sloth members everyone else’s videos. she may have been dumb, but she wasn’t stupid !

adjusting herself, she looked down at the sheet of paper. “ okay, so my first question is ‘everyone is single – who would you hook up with?’ ” she had already mulled over this answer. she had mentally analyzed who was and was not single ( as far as she knew ), the complexities of the different sloth members, the openness of all of them, and how she got on with them. “ if everyone is single, and if this is a hypothetical situation – y’know, considering it is – then i plan on hooking up with, like, charlize theron and idris elba. ” - no, not in cats. even though she adored the movie, she knew better than to bring it up at that moment in time. she was not a furry. she was sure the producers would hate love her answer.

“ alright, the next question: ‘if you were to take one person to cats the musical, who would you take ?’ ” now, solely because she could not see this question stirring the pot, she had come up with a legitimate answer. somehow, however, this question was much harder than the others. you see, as dumb as it was – oh, and she knew it was absolutely idiotic – that nearly plotless musical had a very special place in her heart. “ so, like, it depends on if they’ve seen it or not, y’know ? like... if they’ve already seen it, then i don’t really care – i’d take one of the very few who would be, like, willing to go with me. ” there weren’t many who would be that generous. it was now associated with the horrifying cgi monsters... that she had absolutely nothing against. “ however, if i’m taking someone to see it for the very first time, then, like, totally ignoring what i know their opinion on it, i’d either go with hazel – even though i know she hates it – cleo, or aylie. ” aylie... had been the only person willing to go with her to the movie premiere, so she would clearly deserve the honor of seeing cats with jo. “ i mean, a much better question would’ve involved t.s. eliot’s old possum’s book of practical cats, though. ”

this next question... she was still unsure. although she had rehearsed it, the truth of it ( the truth being ‘probably dead in a ditch’ ) didn’t seem to be anything they were looking for. granted, her answer to the question about hooking up with a hypothetically single person certainly wasn’t what they were looking for, but going dark ? a bad idea for an mtv program. “ ‘where do you see yourself in ten years?’ ” huffing, she set the paper back down and crossed her arms, ever so deep in thought. if she had no one to tell her what to do... “ i really don’t know where i see myself in the next ten minutes. like... i don’t know, it’ll be 2030 in ten years, so i’ll be... thirty-four. god’s honest truth, i’ll probably be trapped in a pyramid scheme. ” no, god’s honest truth, she’d probably be dead ; next to god’s honest truth, she’d probably be trapped in a pyramid scheme ! 

running a hand through her hair, she looked down at the paper one last time before picking it up and beginning to create a poorly constructed paper airplane. m.i.a. would be so proud. “ ‘who is the one person you would kick out from the sloth?’ ” they had trapped her with that one. the specification had trapped her. “ i really don’t think i could kick... anyone out. i mean, like... everyone here has way more many pros than they do cons, y’know ? like, honestly, i think the only person i’d be totally fine without is riley. he knows why. ” okay, but did he ? did he know it was because he had expressed extreme distaste for “cats” and hadn’t known what “old possum’s book for practical cats” was ? did he really know that ?

attempting to fly her poorly constructed airplane and failing miserably ( in the very corner of the camera, it visibly fell on asparagus, aka gus, aka gus the theatre cat ), she clasped her hands together and turned back towards the camera. “ alright, so... those are all of the questions. ” she also had not rehearsed how to sign off. “ uh... yeah ! make sure to like, subscribe, and turn on that notification button ! ” - that was what she’d heard most youtubers say, but it just sounded strange coming from her... someone who had filmed maybe one other video in her entire life. “ ... okay, bye. ”

[struggling-with-time]

How to spiral out of control [Simpbur x reader]

Pairing: c!Wilbur Soot x fem!reader (Simpbur x reader)

Summary: How simpbur became simpbur. And how you grew up and lived with him.

Warnings: Obsession, unhealthy obsession, stalking, murder, drugging, unhealthy relationship, and Simpbur being a creep.

Words: 5K

Masterlist: Wilbur’s Masterlist - Full Masterlist

A/N: Listen I had brainrot. And I don't know how to defend this. (Also requests are still open! Click here!) And it's unedited for now it's 5:12 am here I will edit later today

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Wilbur was a pretty insignificant child. The death of his mother being one of the most interesting things about his childhood. While he claimed not to blame his youngest brother for the loss of his mother. He certainly had a funny way of showing his youngest brother affection.

Wilbur is the middle child of three. A charming but quiet and well accomplished older brother, who seems to never have to end to his dedication neither success. And his youngest brother, a loud ball of sunshine that just seems to make everyone in a good mood. Truly good with people, something Wilbur never seemed to grasp.

His whole childhood tainted by that fact. Always living in the shadow of his brothers, the clear favourites of everyone who came near the family of four.

So his grades was just average, never good enough to get acknowledged, never bad enough to need extra attention. Just average, like the rest of him. He grew up lanky, not athletic neither unable to run. Wilbur was grey in a family of golden people. His father raised them alone for most of Wilbur’s life. His father that despite never saying it out loud had clear favourites in his brothers. It was always, oh and Wilbur too!

Never him, never just him.

So, Wilbur spent most of his childhood lonely, disregarded and weird. A pitiful child. A pathetic child.

The thing is there was one thing, that made Wilbur worth anyone’s time. One person. You.

His childhood best friend.

Well, that’s what anyone who only knew Wilbur would say. Because you were the only friend he had. However, it was different for you, although the two of you were good friends, you wouldn’t call him your best friend for years. That didn’t happen till you became teenagers.

You had always tried your best to include the weird kid in playdates, birthday parties, and playground games. But nobody else seemed to find him worth their time, with his weird and morbid comments. But you persisted that he wasn’t that weird, besides his older brother was really cool.

So, you stick around, you stick around as playdates become hangouts, as dolls become makeup, and homework goes from learning to read to writing essays.

While you had many friends, both come and go and stay, Wilbur had been there for as long as you could remember. A playground proposal documented on home video. And a remake of it on the day of your school dance. You had played along, but it was known to everyone that your childhood friend wanted to be more than friends. But you stayed, smiled for the camera and laughed it off.

Then the school dance was over, and the last exam had been taken. That’s when you moved a country over, and slowly you lost contact with the people you used to call friends, but Wilbur stayed. Wilbur always stayed.

He finally got the spot as the best friend in your mind too. A definite win in his book.

Wilbur had always been odd, a bit to the left of normal. But now, with distance and screens in between you, he only started to act more concerning. This was around the time he started talking about feeling depressed and useless.

Of course, you always told him you didn’t believe that, what else were you supposed to say? Your friendship turning more and more into therapy sessions once a week for Wilbur on your end. While for him it was the highlight of his week.

Clicking the call button beside your profile picture, an anime girl from one he had recommended to you himself. One he had stayed up an entire night to shift through different animes to find the perfect one to send your way. One he was guaranteed you would watch.

“Wilbur, I should really get off.”

“C’mon stay on just a bit later, please.”

The silence deafening over the video call, he watches you intensely as you pull your legs into your chest, your shitty webcam standing beside you on your bed.

Wilbur reached out for the energy drink beside him, a new habit he has picked up. The more hours spent on the computer, the more he seemed to consume.

“Fine, just half an hour more. But then it’s the last half hour.”

Wilbur smiles at that, you choosing him over everything else in the world. He likes that, he likes that a lot. You valuing him. Spending time with him, and only him. Your attention is his.

“We could always fall asleep on call, then we could keep talking.”

“Another day Wilbur, another day.”

That. That sentence he on the other hand didn’t like. Not one bit. A promise never kept. A promise left unspoken and unpromised from your side, but a broken and abandoned promise on his side.

Then there was the wall incident.

Wilbur wouldn’t have told you if it weren’t for you noticing the hole in his wall. One that matched his fist quite neatly. His father had taken his PS4 in punishment for Wilbur using so much the WiFi plan to call you. At least that’s what he told you.

In reality, he had gotten into a fight with his older brother, his brother had asked about you, how you were doing, and if he could say hi during a call. There was something about the words that had irked Wilbur, something that set him off, something about him that made his brother seem dangerous to Wilbur. So, he had decked his older brother in the face. Causing a blackeye to occur.

In return, Wilbur now sported a big black and blue spot from where he hit the floor. His brother having immediately tackled him.

And to Wilbur that had confirmed his thoughts. Other guys are dangerous, he’s the only one you should rely on.

The wall had taken the brunt of his rage that night, a screaming match with his dad that ended with his little brother getting sent to his friends' house, and his PS4 getting confiscated until Wilbur had gotten a job and was able to pay back the damages.

And he did get a job, much to your surprise. But you had encouraged him throughout it all. A dead-end cashier job that only seemed to make his world staler and more bothersome than before.

A time where he searched for every distraction possible, gaming, music, you.

You were proud of him when he got the hole in his wall fixed, and even more when he kept his job. And Wilbur doesn’t remember you ever giving him more praise than the day he told you he was starting to investigate going to university.

Naturally, you helped him, and along the way, Wilbur picked up a guitar. A new asset to his den of depression that his room had become, decked in led lights, and overpriced RGB gaming stuff.

The university acceptance came rather quick, and suddenly Wilbur was packing up his life and heading to university. Boxes filled with stuff he barely remembered owning, and kitchen appliances that would never see the light of the day.

And he can feel you starting to drift, already busy with your own life. But he clings to you.

He stays, Wilbur always stays in your life. Even when you drift.

Wilbur knows it’s affecting him. It’s not hidden from anyone. The longer that goes between the two of you talking, the sourer his mood gets. The longer you don’t respond to him, the more messages he sends. The more information he craves to know.

Who are you talking to?

Who are you seeing?

Who is so much more important than him?

Hadn’t he always been there for you?

Hadn’t he always stayed?

You owe him.

Wilbur grows bitter and resentful. But not to you, never to you. But for everyone around you. His biggest joys in life now coming from the ungodly amount of caffeine he drinks, and whenever you reach out first.

This is why the day you call him asking for help is forever a day that will bring him joy.

“Hey Will, you’re really good with tech, and I was wondering if you wanted to help me start streaming.”

He chokes on the energy drink. He chokes on his words. He chokes on the air. He drowns.

His heart aching. His anger festering. His-

“Sure.”

He hears himself respond before he can even process the thought.

It takes him 2 days of absence from university, and what feels like 2 even longer nights, before he’s an expert on how to stream. He reads everything he can find, he watched everything that gets suggested.

You asked him for help, so he will help.

But Wilbur, spends these hours conflicted. You want his help, not someone else’s, someone lesser than him. Him.

But at the same time. His mind keeps wandering, isn’t he enough any longer? Isn’t he good enough for you? Why isn’t he good enough for you? Why? Why?

And thus, he learns you how to use the software, and beings alongside you. He finds comfort in knowing most of your streams whenever possible is spent with him on a call with you.

Although that happens after hours of pestering, that doesn’t matter. He gets to talk to you, while the rest is limited to a measly chat.

You seem to find yourself comfortably in the gaming category, slowly growing. Slowly rising.

Wilbur’s own streams, on the other hand, feels more like incoherent rants interrupted by his guitar plays. And once in a blue moon, you are on call with him.

It doesn’t take long before he gives up, watching you grow. Finding more comfort in watching you, instead of being the watched. Not that anyone really did watch him besides for you.

Wilbur stays out of a camera, as you only seem to grow more comfortable being in front of one.

The first time you have someone on a call with you on stream, who isn’t Wilbur. He just can’t help but break his bedside lamp. It’s a guy nonetheless. A guy from the internet. The type of guy Wilbur has never been shy to tell you horror stories about.

And this is where another bad habit of his started to emerge. He just can’t help himself. But you’re laughing with someone else. You’re smiling for someone else. You’re his. Not anyone else’s. His. His. His.

Wilbur is quick to find the donating button he had helped you set up himself. At that time it had only been used a couple of times. Nothing big. But Wilbur wants big. He wants attention. He wants you.

He fumbles with his credit card as he keys in the numbers, he’s a bit too familiarised with them. Because anything he can get from the internet will be delivered that way.

And then the notification pops up on your screen. A donation number you had never expected. And you start crying. Right there. Right on stream. And Wilbur sucks it up. He sucks it right up that you’re crying for him, whiling praising him, and only him.

The match you were playing ruined, and Wilburs smile only grows as he hears the familiar tone of discord receiving a call.

That night. You had ditched the fellow streamer to thank Wilbur and hang out with him.

Something you never thought you would regret.

But oh, how you did. How you did.

It takes Wilbur around 2 months to get used to a large sum of money means special attention to him, and only him. For everyone to see.

And he can feel you pulling away, so each time he donates, it’s bigger. Larger. Grander.

He’s never on your stream without a donation anymore. Never on call for free. But Wilbur doesn’t mind, because everyone gets to see you’re his.

And he keeps increasing the amount as you keep growing until he hits a stalemate. He’s using half of his paycheck on you, while he doesn’t mind going hungry a couple of days. His bills won’t wait for him. And he has been living away from home for far too long to ever think about calling up his father and ask for money.

Not to mention his oldest brother would never. Then neither will Wilbur. Because Wilbur is better. Better than all of them.

The larger your stream grows, the closer graduation arrives, and then Wilbur is sitting in another apartment. Another dead-end job. Another grey life.

Another dull life passing him by. Your voice constantly on loop his apartment. Constantly filling his life. As it always has. But to you, Wilbur is barely a part of your everyday. Only really showing up when a donation comes in. As you once again tell him not to spend money on you.

But he seems to stay. Wilbur always stays.

He’s the first to like anything you post on social media. Always online never off. Always lurking. Never missing. Never absent. He’s always there.

Wilbur never misses a stream; he schedules his life around yours. Even if you’re a country away.

And then one day you’re not. You’re not a country away, you’re moving back. You’re moving closer. And suddenly you live an hour away by car. Instead of an airplane ride, and shitty trains.

Suddenly Wilbur can see himself get a foot in the door. No longer grasping onto his parasitic parasocial friendship with you. He can see himself being more than the childhood friend who has always been there. He can see himself as the partner that always is there.

Wilbur is giddy the entire car ride. He’s giddy as he feels his bag burn on his shoulder. And he’s giddy until the second you embrace him in a hug and welcome him into your new apartment.

It’s bigger than the one you’ve had since university.

And then his future crumbles. You start talking about a guy named Jared. Fucking Jared. Why did even his name have to leave a sour taste in his mouth? A guy you met over the internet. Not just any guy. No specifically the fucker from the first time Wilbur had donated.

Apparently, he wasn’t a streamer, but a friend you had made during your 2 years you lived at university but never told Wilbur about. Not a single mention of him, and suddenly he’s all you’re talking about.

How could Wilbur have known? You hadn’t even mentioned him on stream. Wilbur always listened so carefully, writing down everyone you mentioned. You had called him attentive once, and he would never want to disappoint you. Maybe if he was attentive enough you would look his way.

Instead, here you are talking about this Jared guy. And Wilbur knows what he has to do. A thought he has been toying with for around 3 years now. Ever since you went to Disneyland together. A trip he paid for, and a trip that was streamed, so everyone could see you were his. You were always his.

That was easily his favourite video.

In the week up to the vacation, Wilbur had done everything he could to learn about cameras so he could help you, and do the most for you. He had even helped you sort through some of the non-streamed videos he filmed too for a YouTube video for you.

Which is where he found the clip of you changing.

The camera had been resting on your hotel bed, the video having a clear Dutch angle, leaving the hotel room slandered. But there you were, right square and centre still. Changing. It takes you a minute to finish before you turn around and pick the camera up again. Mumbling something as you turn it to show off your hotel room, and then the clip cuts to black.

He never told you about it, instead just saving that specific clip on a USB stick. A piece of tech he valued more than his life. Not that his life had ever been worth much in comparison to his.

Wilbur rips his bag open, careful not to make a lot of noise. He removed his clothes, and then the fake bottom. And underneath it reveals small security cameras.

Wilbur has never been more thankful for you being a heavy sleeper and letting him sleep on a mattress on the floor of your bedroom. He quietly sets up two in your bedroom, before moving into the rest of your house. One in your office that has been converted to a streaming room. His own personal angle to your public life.

Two more in the living room, he skips the kitchen and hesitates at the door of your bathroom. For the first time, he hesitates. His hand hovers over the doorknob, the other holding the camera.

“Wilbur?”

You’re standing in the hallway, sleep evident on your face.

“Will why are you making so much noise?”

“No reason darling, go back to bed, just needed some water.”

His breath is stuck in his throat until he hears you close the bedroom door again.

That was the first time he hesitated. And his last. He couldn’t afford it. He couldn’t afford to lose you further.

The rest of the trip passes Wilbur by as you introduce him to Jared. The douchebag himself. The asshole. The guy who dares take away what is Wilbur’s. Even on the ride home. All Wilbur can see is Jared’s image etched into his mind. His god-awful fashion sense. The way everything, he wore around you, just seemed to be a size too small. Nobody wants to see that fuckers’ muscles. Wilbur’s knuckles turn white, as he grips the steering wheel.

Jared has to go.

He’s ruining everything. He’s not part of the dream you told Wilbur you had. Jared has never been part of that. Wilbur was supposed to be part of that. Even if the dream changed through the year. Even if the one you’re living now is the unimaginable future the two of you imagined up at seventeen. But one thing was sure. Jared wasn’t part of that. Wilbur was.

Wilbur easily finds himself a new normal at home. The trip giving him a refreshed sense of hope. A plan in the making. His daily routine now including watching you all hours of the day. Not just your streams any longer. Every single second he can wrench out of those cameras.

And suddenly his friendship seems to improve with you too. Because now he can see when you’re sad and in need of a friend. He reaches out at the perfect time. Abusing your vulnerable state. Because it’s the best to do. It’s for the betterment of your future.

The more Wilbur is there for you, the more he resents Jared. He deserved to be in your bed, not that asshole. He deserves to reap the rewards of his hard labour. He is the one that has always been there because Wilbur has always stayed.

A simple click is all it takes for Wilbur and the item has been placed in a cart. Mere keystrokes and it has been paid. A single click and Wilbur has truly gone insane, as a packet is shipped off. A packet containing a bottle of sleeping pills.

The next time you invite Wilbur down, you barely recognise him as you open the door. Eyebags so deep you’ve never seen before. His entire body slightly twitching, and that manic smile on his lips. Wilbur brushes your concerns off, claiming that’s just what happens in real workplaces. Not that you would know anything about that.

Wilbur hates the feeling of insulting you, but you had barely responded the entire week. You deserved to suffer for a moment. Before he caves and apologises for being rude. That’s the moment you can see the resembles of his normal being as he hangs his shoulders.

Jared comes over that night. Just as Wilbur had planned. And this time he won’t hesitate. He even bought a bigger car for this.

Wilbur offers to mix the drinks, claiming to have learnt a new recipe. Which isn’t a lie, he has learned how to perfect just the right cocktail thick enough that covers the chalky residue of the pills. And sweet enough to make the bitter taste disappear.

He serves them, keeping a watchful eye as the night drags on, and Jared never seems to shut up. But Wilbur can deal with it for one night. Just for one. And then he won’t ever have to worry about Jared again.

He serves another.

And then another drink.

And finally. Finally. You’re starting to get tired. Slowly leaning against Wilbur. And he takes pride in that. Great pride. You didn’t choose to lean against Jared, you’re leaning against Wilbur.

Wilbur sits still until Jared too is starting to fall asleep. Wilbur is ecstatic.

He gets up slowly, gently laying you down, a pillow underneath your face. A blanket over you. He kisses your forehead and smells your hair. Taking in the shampoo scent still lingering.

Then Wilbur gets moving, he has stuff to do. Plans to execute after all.

He does his best to get Jared’s left arm over his shoulders. But their awkward height difference makes it difficult, but he can make it work. It has to work. He only gets one shot.

Wilbur gets the front door open before he realises a fatal flaw in his plan. He has to drag Jared down 3 floors worth of stairs. He realises he can’t do it the way he is now. He has to drag him down by his armpits instead.

It takes him the first flight of stairs to realise Jared shoes are making too much noise. He has to abandon them, Wilbur awkwardly gets Jared leaned against the wall before he removes Jared’s polished black shoes. Wilbur leaves them there, making a mental note to remember them when he comes back.

The rest of the stairs, while difficult and definitely breathtaking for someone who has no muscle strength. He makes it work. Wilbur actually makes it work.

He made it work. It worked. Oh god. It’s working.

Wilbur repositions Jared once more, his arm once again over Wilbur’s shoulders. The night sky greeting him as he steps out of the apartment complex. With great difficulty, Wilbur gets the two of them over to his car, where he throws open the trunk. In the proceed shaking the car, setting off the car alarm. Wilbur is quick to drop Jared as he fumbles after his car keys. It takes him nearly a full minute to turn off the car alarm.

Wilbur curses under his breath.

Annoyed with the time loss. He finally gets the knocked-out Jared into his trunk, and he shuts it again. Just as a front door in the apartment complex opens. A man steps out. He raises a hand to Wilbur, before pulling out a smoke.

Wilbur shuffles on his feet before raising a hand. And then awkwardly gets into his car.

Okay. Okay. Okay.

He has a body in his trunk. Now he just has to get to the harbour. Wilbur starts the car and starts the ride to the harbour a town over.

Half an hour has gone past when Wilbur is pulling the handbrake, and taking the keys out. He’s quick to get out, and even quicker to get to Jared. Wilbur keeps thinking about you. Your smile. Your kindness. Your voice. Your beauty. Your grace. As his hands are securing zip ties around the wrists and ankles of an unconscious man.

He has to go.

Wilbur reminds himself.

A cloth is tied around Jared’s filthy mouth, and then Wilbur is back to dragging him. It’s both easier and harder. Easier before he’s just dragging him across the pebbles and over to the brink of the harbour. Both of his arms are under both of Jared’s.

But it’s harder because if someone sees him it’s going to get difficult to explain. But nobody does. As far as Wilbur is aware.

So a splash is made by a body, and Jared is unceremoniously sinking to the bottom of the ocean floor.

Wilbur takes one more breath of fresh air. Before turning around and getting back into his new car.

He’s quick to arrive at your apartment complex. The man was no longer there. Wilbur goes to grip the front door. It doesn’t bulge.

Oh yeah, it’s locked.

He fishes the copy he made of your house key from his keychain and lets himself into the building he doesn’t live in. An invited guest, that has turned out to be an uninvited one.

He can feel the tiredness setting in his bones, as he ascends the stairs. And the realisation that he just killed someone hasn’t dawned on him yet. Instead, all his muscles are aching, and his eyes barely staying open.

He stumbles into your apartment. Another kiss gets left on your forehead as he goes for your bed. The smell is so nice. It’s so obvious to him this is where you sleep. And he’s soaking in each moment until his eyes are giving out.

His night remaining dreamless, instead, he gets awoken rather rudely around noon. You’ve pulled the comforter off him and told him to get up, so the two of you can spend some timeacting together. and Wilbur happily does that.

Not at all acing like a man who purposely took another person’s life mere hours ago. You rush him to get into his clothes. As you have something planned for rest of the day out of the apartment. You’re talking his ears off as you descend the first flight stairs your personal puppy in tow.

When you stop dead in your tracks. Wilbur nearly stumbles into you.

“Will, is that Jared’s shoes?”

And right there is in fact Jared’s shoes. The pair Wilbur had forgotten all about. The pair he had left unintentionally.

“Are you sure about that? Thought he already left.” Wilbur lies, he may be awkward, but he has gotten pretty good at lying to you through the years.

“Yeah yeah, you’re right. Why would he leave his shoes?”

The question gets left unanswered, and the tension is thick until you get outside, and the sun is shining. It seems it knows too of how good this day is for Wilbur, a dawn of a new era. Where you will finally acknowledge him as the perfect one for you.

The man from the nightstand once again with a smoke and raises his hand to greet Wilbur, once again Wilbur shuffles on his feet before he raises a hand back. You look at him weirdly, and Wilbur shrugs it off.

The rest of the day happening without any mishaps or other incidents. But the shoes just can’t seem to leave your mind, despite how hard Wilbur is trying to distract you.

And then the afternoon passes, and the night, and the car ride, and Wilbur is once again home. And as soon as the door closes. He crumbles down on the floor.

Oh god.

He did it.

He actually fucking did it.

He isn’t useless.

He’s fucking Wilbur, and Wilbur stays in your life. Even when you make such stupid mistakes as falling for another person. There’s only one person for you and that’s him.

You’re actually the first one to call him this time, and the smile never leaves his lips. Even if the call is about Jared. And how worried you are about not having heard from him. Wilbur just tells you; you should have listened to him. Guys on the internet are just like that. And that you deserve better. Someone like him.

You laugh at this and thank him for calming you down.

Wilbur suddenly loves phone calls.

This bliss is perfect for Wilbur you’re talking to him more and more. And he watches, god he watches you. Every step you take in that apartment is filmed logged on his computer.

However, all good things must come to an end, and Wilbur has barely pulled off his tie after work when a group of loud knocks sounds at his door. He isn’t expecting guests.

A group of men in blue uniforms greets him.

“Wilbur Soot, you’re under the arrest for the Murder of Jared Yarrow.”

Wilbur barely registers what’s going on, before he’s in a holding cell. A psych evaluation under his belt. A phone call to his father asking him to help him out.

The days bleed together in the unchanging environment, and suddenly a defender is telling him to plead for insanity.

Then the defender comes back again days later with a court date, and all Wilbur can do is count the seconds.

Time for the first time since arriving slows down when the doors to the court open and Wilbur is lead into the courtroom. And there you are, looking beautiful as ever. Tears and despair clearly written on your face. You look away from him, and it makes him stumble for a moment. A quick look to the other side, confirms his fear. His father is here. Alongside his brothers.

The trial goes over what happened that night, the evidence, the sleeping medication, the car. Everything. Yet even when his sentence is received, even when he is told he won’t see the sun again for a long time. There is only one thing on his mind.

They never found the cameras.

And he just can’t help but smile at that as he’s getting lead away to rot.

Because Wilbur has always stayed by your side, Wilbur always stays. -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

[chloegong]

that semi-AU romajuliette + benmars fic

i need a permanent place to store this after dumping a random google doc on twitter so here it is, the author writing fic for her own book because people gave me headcanons and they were too good not to make use of

__

the one where juliette and marshall go out for a night out on the town and roma and ben have to go along to supervise because one time they accidentally committed arson —headcanon from twitter user @leonidasvaldz

a semi AU where Benedikt and Marshall were hanging out with Roma and Juliette in those happy months R&J had together in 1922 before everything went wrong (aka you can take this as canon because it will fit the timeline but the characters won’t have memory of this in the actual published books)

Disclaimer: i wrote this in one go inside a starbucks please expect ao3 user chloegong and not Author Chloe Gong who does multiple rounds of edits on her books

Second Disclaimer: nobody go putting this on goodreads before someone on my publishing team kicks my ass (rightfully so, i’m on deadline rn and i’m writing fanfic instead of my real contracted manuscript)

Mandatory reminder that Our Violent Ends is available for preorder with all links here :)

__

It wasn’t supposed to happen again. And yet, somehow, Benedikt was watching fire curl around the side of the building, the roof beams giving a loud groan before shuddering and caving in on itself.

He turned a look onto Roma. “Your girlfriend is a maniac.”

~

Five hours earlier...

Juliette climbed in through the window of Roma’s bedroom, careful to hug the burlap bag close to her chest as she landed on his carpet. The howling wind outside drowned out some of the clinking, but the glass bottles were still making a racket no matter how carefully she hugged the bag. She had gone full throttle for tonight; when no one was watching and her relatives were downstairs crowing over a game of cards, she had snuck around and robbed the liquor cabinets at the Scarlet mansion quite generously. Now she dropped the bag onto Roma’s floor with a huff, brushing a curl of hair out of her eyes.

“Where’s Marshall?”

Roma looked up from where he was reading, putting his book down and rising from the bed smoothly.

“Well, hello.” He strode toward her, stopping before her with his arms crossed. “Lovely to see you too. You do know it is my bedroom you just snuck into, right?”

Juliette pretended to jump in surprise, looking around wildly. “Do you jest? Oh, bother. Let me climb back out and go find my real lover. Marshall! Where are—”

With a huff that seemed to double as a laugh, Roma grabbed her wrist before she could turn around and leave through the window again.

“You’re hilarious,” he said dryly.

“I know.” Juliette reached up with her free hand, clasping her cold fingers right onto his neck. Though her palm was freezing from the bitter temperatures outside, Roma hardly flinched, he only shrugged his shoulder up to keep her hand there. He couldn’t fight back the grin. For several seconds, the two of them only stood there, looking like a pair of idiots smiling at each other.

Then his door opened.

“Are we interrupting something?”

Marshall bounded into the room, throwing the door wide open. With a horrified expression, Benedikt hurried in after him and closed the door quickly, listening for movement on the other side.

“Yes, leave the door wide open,” Benedikt said. “While any White Flower strolling the corridor can peer in and see the Scarlet heir standing there in a silly coat.”

Juliette stepped away from Roma, peering down at herself as if she had forgotten what she put on. “I didn’t think it was that silly. It’s my disguise.”

“You do look a little like a housewife,” Marshall said, considering the coat.

“A fifteen-year-old housewife?”

“I suppose that is exactly why you look a little silly.”

Juliette pulled a face, but refrained from arguing further. She was here tonight because Marshall wanted to see the new Scarlet club that opened along Thibet Road, and she had promised she could sneak him in. Unfortunately, Marshall was bad at keeping secrets, and the worst at keeping secrets from Benedikt. The moment that Benedikt heard Marshall was planning on entering Scarlet territory, he had decided that he would come in accompaniment.

Juliette supposed it was only fair. Benedikt didn’t entirely trust her, but he was nice enough. He tolerated her presence and always kept an eye over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t spotted on their territory if she poked her head in to see Roma. While Juliette didn’t know much about Marshall either, he was far warmer than his best friend, and for the first time last week, they had even enjoyed an outing with just the two of them. Juliette Cai and Marshall Seo—out and about in the border territories on a quaint evening.

That outing had ended with accidental arson though, so it was rather possible that exacerbated Benedikt’s desire to play chaperone. And of course, if Benedikt was coming along, Roma wanted to tag along too.

The arson was hardly their fault, Juliette and Marshall had maintained when the Montagovs asked questions. What kind of person left a stack of hay out beside a bar? And what kind of hay was that easily flammable just from accidentally whacking one of the lanterns on the awning onto the stack?

“All right.” Juliette hauled the bag up again. “Are we ready to sneak onto Scarlet territory?”

“Absolutely not,” Benedikt muttered, strolling past her for Roma’s window. “But is that going to stop either of you?”

Before anyone could answer him, Benedikt had already hopped the small gap between windows, climbing into their neighboring building for their route out unspotted.

“Great!” Juliette said. She passed the bag to Roma so he could do the carrying. What was the point of converting a rival gang enemy into a lover if not to lug around her heavy things? “Glad we’re all so enthusiastic.”

Roma sighed, clambering onto his sill and making the climb too. “The things I do for you, dorogaya.”

Marshall hurried after him. “I would argue you’re actually doing this for me, dearest Roma!”

With a snort, Juliette climbed out last, and pulled the window after her.

~

The Scarlet club had been a bust. Of course, Benedikt had figured that would be the case from the get-go, especially if they were sneaking in at such a late hour to avoid being seen by anyone important in the Scarlet Gang. At least Juliette had provided good alcohol, and now he squinted at the label of the wine bottle under the street lamps while they walked, taking the smaller main roads along the periphery of the city.

Up ahead, Roma and Juliette were whispering to each other, though they didn’t sound like they were talking in full sentences. Those two always communicated in looks and gestures, swapping languages whenever they felt like it and ending up with some incoherent tangle of words that no one else could comprehend.

“Is there anything left in that?”

Benedikt glanced to his side, shaking the bottle to show Marshall. “One last swig. All yours.”

Marshall took the bottle. He put it to his lips and swung up, his head tipped to the sky and the line of his throat bared to the night. Benedikt shivered suddenly, a line of goosebumps rising at the back of his neck. The season had turned cold and the wind that blew onto his face was biting. He wrote off his shudder to the chill, to the temperature dropping with the longer they spent outside at such an hour.

Suddenly, Marshall was squinting into the distance. “Hey.” His call summoned Roma and Juliette’s attention from ahead, who both turned around to see what the matter was.

Marshall pointed to the dark shape off the end of the road. “Isn’t that the abandoned factory we lost to the Scarlets?”

“Is it?” Juliette asked, a sudden glee in her face.

“Why would you say that?” Roma bemoaned. He didn’t bother trying to stop her as Juliette hurried ahead, eager to explore the factory. “Look what you’ve done.”

But Marshall was wearing a similar expression, his eyes scanning the factory as they approached closer and closer. Wordlessly, he handed the bottle back to Benedikt, and though Benedikt’s head was spinning from the drink, he still recognized the exact face that Marshall made before he was going to get himself into trouble.

“Mars—”

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” he insisted, tipping his chin forward. Juliette had disappeared into the factory. “You two be look-out. We wouldn’t want someone finding us here, right?”

Benedikt scarcely had a second to argue back. Marshall was already hurrying off.

~

Inside the factory, Juliette trailed her hands along the dark walls, her eyes wide. The machines looked strange in the moonlight, but stranger while sitting so idle. She was used to seeing rows and rows of workers in the daytime, trailing after her father as he ran inspections on the work of their trade partners. It might have been the wine in her system, but everything seemed to sway: sitting so inactive in movement that her eyes were imagining movement.

“Pst.”

Juliette almost jumped out of her skin.

“Christ,” she muttered, whirling around with a hand on her heart. Marshall slunk out from the shadows, both his hands in his pockets. “You gave me a fright.”

“Me? Frightening?” Marshall picked up a strange object on the table, inspected it for several seconds, then set it back down. “I am the least frightening person on the planet.”

“Yes, well, when it’s so dark, even a cuddly teddy bear would be terrifying.” Juliette felt around her dress. She thought she had tucked her lighter in here somewhere. There were little pockets sewn around the sleeves and armholes that she kept all her weapons, though if anyone asked, she would say she had the ability to materialize them out of thin air.

“Do you scream often at teddy bears?”

“Only when they sneak up on me.”

“I don’t see you screaming at Roma.”

“He gets a special pass. He’s only a teddy bear on the inside.”

Marshall snorted. He leaned down, trying to read the paper taped down to the table. At last, Juliette found her lighter—it was actually in her sock—and she brought it close, thumbing down the sparkwheel for a flame.

“Do not touch—for demolishing,” Marshall read under the new light. “Are the Scarlets going to build something new here?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Juliette replied. “My father doesn’t include me in his business meetings yet.”

“Hmm.” The shadows of the factory danced. Juliette thought she saw someone darting in her periphery, and she whirled around, but it was only Marshall’s shadow. Unfortunately, she had scared Marshall with her movement, and he bumped into her, asking, “What? What is it?”

The lighter flew out of her hands, landing on the paper.

“Nothing, nothing!” Juliette assured. “I was seeing things.”

But Marshall wasn’t convinced. He swiveled around. Peered hard into a corner. “Was it ghosts? I know this city has ghosts. All that death creates so many ghosts.”

Juliette tried to look where he was looking. She couldn’t see anything except the dark.

“There is no such thing as ghosts.”

“Just last week, I felt something walk by me and then there was no one when I looked. I swear to you, if it wasn’t ghosts then I—” Marshall stopped suddenly, turning around to look at the table. “Uh… is that supposed to happen?”

Juliette whirled around too. The whole table was on fire. “Oh, God.”

With a sudden pop, the fire sprung up and licked up to the walls. There had to be something sprayed inside the factory already to prepare for demolition, or else the flames would not be traveling with such intensive speed.

“Marshall,” Juliette said simply.

“Yes?”

She looked at him. “When the Montagovs ask, we blame the factory and say we have no idea what happened. Run!”

~

Benedikt and Roma kept watch in relative silence. Benedikt’s head was spinning, and his cousin looked like his head was doing the same if his swaying was any indication. Roma was humming softly under his breath, toeing the grass that grew around the abandoned factory.

Then, there was a sudden sound from inside, and the first tendrils of flames blew out from the topmost windows.

“Roma,” Benedikt said plainly. “I’m willing to bet my life savings that Juliette Cai just committed arson.”

Roma tilted his head up, his jaw dropping agape. At first, he could only stare at the growing fire, eating up the roof beams. Then, he said: “To be fair, it could have been Marshall.”

Benedikt threw his arms into the air. “Who looks more like the arson type, Juliette or Marshall?”

“Is that a trick question?”

“The answer was Juliette!”

Benedikt pinched the bridge of his nose. He was rapidly growing concerned, but before he could suggest they go in to search for the two, Juliette and Marshall ran out from the factory—laughing. The factory was burning down, and they were laughing, grasping at each other and spinning in circles right in front of the factory. They looked a sight: seconds away from collapsing atop of each other in utter delirium.

Benedikt turned to Roma. “Your girlfriend is a maniac.”

Roma was struggling to hold back his laugh watching her with Marshall. “I think she’s magnificent.”

Marshall stumbled, and Juliette squealed, reaching out to grab his arm before he could trip and land flat on his face. Benedikt almost—almost—let a smile slip. Before Roma could sight it and tease him for enjoying himself after all, he cleared his throat.

“What happened?” he bellowed.

“Faulty factory!” Marshall called back.

Benedikt shook his head, turning on his heel. They needed to get out of here before someone reported the fire.

“Come on!” he called back to the three. “Let’s go before the Municipal Police arrive.”

Upon Benedikt’s summons, Marshall left Juliette’s side and hurried to catch up. He slowed to a stroll once he was beside Benedikt, but Benedikt could feel Marshall watching him.

“What?” Benedikt asked. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure his cousin was following too. Thankfully he was, though it was mostly Juliette hauling him along, their hands clasped together and swinging while Roma kept looking at the fire.

“I think you enjoyed yourself,” Marshall replied smugly. “After all that complaining about sneaking into Scarlet territory.”

Benedikt reached out and rapped his knuckles on Marshall’s skull. With a shriek, Marshall darted ahead.

“You want me to enjoy myself?” Benedikt shouted after him, breaking into a run too. “Come back then! Let me throttle you!”

FIN.

[skinnyducky]

made for you // v.h.

hello.. im sorry i havent been posting. school has been keeping me busy but i wanted to post this. this idea comes from @yelenasdarling so thank you ! i recommend listening to halley’s comet by billie eilish (as well as the whole album) bc that’s the song that is being discussed in this (as well as many others), so yuh. enjoy ! and i promise i haven’t forgotten about party @ y/ns !

vinnie hacker x singer!fem!reader

Word Count: 1408, edited

WARNING: MAJOR FLUFF LUV

---------

As the year was coming to an end, so was your debut album. For months, you’d been working with the best producers, musicians, and doing endless promo for this album and within a few days, you’d be playing it for the label. Obviously because it is your first record, you’re protective over it. No one had heard it besides the people working on it. So, you were a bit nervous to let your pleading boyfriend, Vinnie, tag along to the studio with you.

It was Friday, and you two had been chilling in his room when your producer, Sarah, said she needed you to go over it before the label meeting. As you bid your goodbyes to Vinnie, informing him of the reason for your departure, he pouted. “Why can’t I come?” he nearly cried, giving you his puppy dog eyes. Because you couldn’t resist them—and you just can’t say “no” to him—you allowed him to come.

Now here the two of you were, in the studio and listening to Sarah go on and on about how long it took for her to finish mastering it. Your manager, Jen, had came too. She had to hear the album for herself also. She couldn’t have her client looking a mess in front of her bosses. Bad for business and her reputation.

“…and after an hour or two of making sure your vocals were clear, I finally finish the album.” Sarah explained. “Honestly, this is probably the best album I’ve produced in a minute, and I worked on SZA’s album.”

“That good?” Vinnie asked with a smirk, leaning against the studio door. “That’s sick. I’m ready to listen to it.”

As that sentence left Vinnie’s mouth, you felt your anxiety overcome you. “Are you sure, Sarah? There has to be some sort of adlib I need to rework or something. Can’t be ready so soon.”

“Y/n, it can’t get any better than this. This is a solid project. I should know, I spent days listening to it over and over again. Trust me, it’s ready.”

“Besides, it’s too late to rerecord now.” Jen added. “The label meeting is next Thursday, and we don’t have a week for Sarah to mix and master all over again. Once the label gives us the greenlight, if there’s anything to tweak, you can do it before you have to submit the final project. But until then, no changes and no additions.”

You sighed, nodded your head. It’s not that you were afraid of it not being perfect. You were more scared of what Vinnie would think. I mean, he’s the one who inspired the album; more than half of the songs are about him. His opinion meant everything to you, and if he didn’t like an inch of it…that would destroy you.

As you were sulking and picking at your chipped nail polish, Vinnie wandered over to you where you sat at the soundboard with Sarah. He leaned against it and smiled down at you. “What’s the matter, baby?”

“Nothing.” You sighed, keeping your head down. He scoffed and chuckled. “Y/n, you’re playing with your nail polish. You always do that when you’re upset.”

He pulled you up and took you out of your seat before sitting down himself and placing you on his lap. “Tell Santa what’s up.” He joked, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“I’m just nervous. This album means so much to me.”

“Completely understandable. It’s your first one, it should mean a lot to you.”

You shook your head. “It’s not just because of that. It’s also because it’s about you. The only reason you haven’t came with me to the studio until now is because I didn’t want you to hate anything on this, and it would kill me if you did.”

“Y/n, look at me”—you finally met his eyes for the first time—“I could never not like anything you do. Especially if it’s dedicated to me. That’s like throwing away a gift you gave me. I wouldn’t ever do that. So don’t think for a minute that I’d hate this. That’s literally impossible.”

You smiled, planting a kiss on his forehead. “You’re too good for me.”

“I know.” He laughed and turned to Sarah. “Play us the album!” He said dramatically, sending the producer into a fit of giggles.

She followed his orders and with a few clicks and the press of a button, the first song from your album rang out from the studio speakers. You watched timidly as Vinnie bobbed his head up and down as it went from track to track.

“This shit slaps!” He exclaimed as “Y/n Bossa Nova” played. He nearly about died during “Oxytocin”, claiming it to be god tier. Minutes went by until you got to the final track “Halley’s Comet”, and you were scared to play him this song.

While the other tracks were quite playful in nature, this one was different. The song was a bit cynical, but it was also like a love letter to Vinnie. Never before have you ever felt what you had with him. And at first that made you scared. But as the months went by and your relationship started to blossom, you realized he was the one for you. This was just your way of telling him that.

When it started, you looked everywhere but at Vinnie. It wasn’t just because you couldn’t bear to see the expression on his face, but also because this song was quite emotional. You didn’t want him to see you “being a little bitch” as you put it.

The sound of your soft vocals bounced off the walls and you felt Vinnie place his chin on your shoulder. His hold on you grew tighter as he swayed you two back forth. A small smile crept it’s way onto your face as you tried your best to stray away from crying.

“I’ve been loved before, but right now in this moment,” you sung, “I feel more and more like I was made for you…”

When those lyrics hit, you felt Vinnie stop swaying. Hell, you were pretty sure he had stopped breathing too. You didn’t know what to think about that; did he not like the song, is he shocked? What was he thinking and feeling? Shortly after, the song came to an end with you singing, “I think I might have fallen in love…what am I to do?”

And with that, the album finished. The room was silent, the only sound being your sniffles. Although that was broken when Sarah screamed. “Wasn’t that amazing!? Ugh, my power…I really outdid myself on this one.”

Thankfully, Jen understood the impact of that last song. “Sarah, why don’t we go get a Snickers or something from the vending machine?”

“I can’t eat anything fatty, Jen. You know this.”

Jen mouthed some profanities and threats at the woman causing her to shoot up from her chair and run out into the hallway. “We’ll leave you two alone for a minute.” Jen smiled, leaving the room and shutting the door behind her.

Neither of you or Vinnie spoke and that somewhat was comforting. However, part of it made you feel insecure about the album, “Halley’s Comet” in specific. Out of all the songs, that’s the one you wanted him to like the most.

The silence soon grew uncomfortable, so you decided to be the first to speak. “Well, that was the album. What’d you think?”

He opened his mouth, but it was obviously he couldn’t find the right words to say. “I-I don’t know how to even put it in words.”

“That bad?” You sighed.

“No, never.” He laughed. “It was beautiful, all of it really. And that last song, that was amazing.”

You pursed your lips, hiding the grin wanting to break free. “You think so?”

“Yeah, it was definitely one of my favorites. To know I had that much of an impact on you, it’s really sweet. I didn’t think I could simp for you any harder than I do now.”

“Shut up!” you laughed, slapping his shoulder.

“It’s the truth!” he said, throwing his hands up in defense. “I love you, Y/n. I really do.”

“I love you too.” And with that, he laid a sweet and gentle kiss on your lips.

Pulling back, he said, “Oh and just so you know, I agree with you.”

“On what?”

“You were definitely made for me.”

[imaginesbymonika]

Standing by and waiting at your backdoor.

Part 2

Pairing: Johnny Knoxville x fem!Reader

Plot: Johnny never had any problems with picking up girls, one of the bonuses of having a TV Show. But when he falls in love with his childhood best friend, who is in a relationship with a jerk who doesn’t understand her the way he does, his fame isn’t helping him at all.

Warning: angst

Inspired by the song ‘You belong with me’ by Taylor Swift (and an edit i saw on tik tok by @bowiedjarin)

masterlist / previous part

When Johnny opens his eyesin the morning a sluggish groan escapes him. He had spent the night dreaming nothing but nonsense, even if he cannot remember it vividly- he simply feels awful.

Without eating anything he shortly changes into comfortable clothes and walks out of his apartment. He knew, that today was supposed to be fun but as he got into the car, he simply felt uncomfortable. The entire one-hour ride to the lake was silent, he didn’t even bother to turn on the radio. He wants to turn his car around and call in sick, but that would only make people suspicious of something and he didn’t want that.

They would end up asking him “what’s wrong?” and he’d have to say “well, my first love from my old hometown which I lied about just moved here, and I still am not over the humiliation I faced back when I was younger, and yeah did I mention I lied about basically everything?”. Yeah, that doesn’t feel right.

When Johnny reaches the parking space near the lake, he places his car next to Dave’s. His friends are already filming and he presses his head against his steering wheel. He takes a couple of deep breaths, while he listens to their laughter in the distance before he finally gets out of his vehicle.

“Johnny!”, a voice calls out for him and when he turns around he makes eye contact with Ehren, who is running towards him. A smile emerges on his lips at the sight of his friend. “So good to see you, we were worrying you wouldn’t come.” Knoxville shakes his head:” Traffic was a bitch. How are you?” He pulls the man, who has lost a tooth a couple of days ago into a tight hug:” You still haven’t been to the dentist?”

“I don’t have the time.”, he explains as both men begin to walk:” By the way, how are you- you seem to be a bit pale.” “I haven’t had breakfast yet, I woke up rather later.”, he clarifies and makes a sharp hand gesture to imply that it’s not as bad as it seems:” Is Chris’ girlfriend here yet? He told me that she’d join us today.”

Ehren nods:” Yeah, she’s primarily hanging out with Stephanie while we’re shooting. She’s a total sweetheart, and Chris comes off to be head over heels for her.” At that a small smile arises on Johnny’s lips:” That’s nice.” “It truly is, everyone’s quite happy for him. He called her ‘the love of his life” when she went to take a piss in the bushes.” Johnny giggles:” Well, if that’s not romantic, I don’t know what is.”

“Knoxville!”, a couple of people say out loud as soon as the friends both arrived at the lake. The sun is glowing brightly from above and he puts his sunglasses on. He waves at his friends, who are either already in the water or standing on the slimy ramp. And for a minute all his concerns are gone and he wishes he could live the rest of his life like this.

But then he notices a woman out of the corner of his eyes and when he turns his head into her direction he sees Stephanie sitting on a big blanket. She chuckles as she looks at the woman laying next to her. And when the two make eye contact his face drops immediately.

It’s as if all air get’s knocked out of his lungs the moment he recognizes her features.

But he isn’t the only one. The young woman stares right back at him, with her eyes wide open in surprise or horror- Johnny can’t tell.

“Johnny!”, Chris declares as he reaches him. He pulls his best friend into a wet hug, while Johnny’s eyes are still fully fixated on her. “Oh, looks like you two have met already!”, he tells, and the excitement in his voice tears Johnny’s heart in two. “John, this is Y/N!”

[elektrantchios]

another you | s.l

title: another you

pairing: sylvie x reader (ft loki)

summary: Sylvie shares some information about her past, a past you fit into too.

warnings: swearing, angst, some bickering with Loki and fluff

word count: 1k

a/n: I love Sylvie and can't bear to lose her so expect more stuff with her. has been edited but likely missed something (its 3am i should be asleep rn)

MAIN MASTERLIST | REQUEST OPEN

Breathless you ran over the rocky landscape with Loki and the Loki variant. This was not what you imagine yourself doing, you just had to try and get the tesseract from Loki. For all the thing that could have happened you didn’t think being taken by the TVA was one of them.

Now dodging meteoroids trying to get to an old mining hut was your only chance of survival. “Of all your idiotic plans Loki this really takes the biscuit” you yell, looking at Loki as you ran.

He exhaled annoyed.

“I mean seriously” you hit his shoulder once you were inside the hut. “Maybe pick a fucking volcano next time”.

He scoffed, “do you have any other suggestions, avenger?”.

You square your shoulders annoyed. “You keep throwing at word around like it’s an insult. Well me let you something-“.

“Would you two grow up. For gods sake”.

You turned to see the Loki variant looking at you, until this moment you had been so mad at Loki you had forgotten she was even here.

You held the bridge of your nose, “I’m sorry he makes me want to throw him out of a window”.

“If he didn’t have the tempad then I’d let you” she smirked.

You laughed.

“Great a coup” Loki muttered.

You turned to Loki, “It’s only a coup if you don’t know about it, I made my feeling very clear”.

“Odin’s beard. You’re just as maddening as I remember” he sighed turning away.

“I think it’s charming” The Variant smiled as she leant against the wall.

“Why thank you” you smiled back.

“This is my worst nightmare. A Loki and a y/n flirting” he sighed dramatically.

You tutted. “There is no need to be jealous”.

You and Loki carried on arguing, too busy to noticed the way Variant Loki was staring at you.

-x-

Hours later you had worked out a plan that would recharge the tempad. You had also learnt that the Loki variant was called Sylvie, you wouldn’t say she was the same as Loki but she was definitely a Loki.

You sat in the middle of Loki and Sylvie as the train started. Zoning out as the two fought, you sighed before downing a whole glass of champagne. “eww”. The two paused and looked at you, “This stuff is terrible”.

“Too used to Tony Stark’s finest are you avenger” Loki laughed.

You laughed scarcely. You climbed over the table and made your way to the bar.

“The two of you don’t get along well”.

You turned to find Sylvie behind you. “You can say that again”. You shook your head then laughed. “We used to get on great but he’s going through his rebellion phase”.

“You did?” she whispered, shocking you.

“Yeah” you smiled, “I’d say he was my best friend once”.

She swallowed.

“Are you alright, Sylvie?” you asked, reaching out to rest your hand on her arm. She jumped at the impact. “I know we don’t know each other but I’m here”.

She was quiet, a way you hadn’t seen her be quiet before. It made your stomach turn. You realized you didn’t liked seeing her this way. It felt wrong.

“Sylvie-“ you said more quietly so only she could hear.

“I knew you, well a you on Asgard growing up” she looked up from the floor and met your eyes.

“You did” you couldn’t help but smile, you wished you could have known her as child.

“I always wondered what happened to her” she murmured looking sad.

You wished you could help her somehow, tell her everything you could about the other you but you didn’t know them.

“I would tell you about myself but I don’t think we would be very similar” you smile sadly.

She grinned, “I don’t know. The way you talk to Loki remains me of how you’d bicker with Thor”.

You laughed, “Was he the annoying golden child for you too?”.

“You wouldn’t believe it” she laughed too.

After you both stopped laughing, Sylvie looked to Loki who was enjoying himself drinking, “Did anything ever happen between you and him?”.

You chocked on you drink then laughed. “Gods no, like I said he’s, my friend. Gods know why when he acts like an ass”, You looked over at Loki too making sure he wasn’t listening. “He’s mad and he’s hurt. I can’t blame him for that”.

“You understand us Lokis very well”.

You smirked, “Thought you didn’t like to be called a Loki”.

She pulled a tired face but you could tell she was joking, “I don’t but it doesn’t chance the fact that I am one”.

You noticed how close you were to her, what shocked you more was that you didn’t mind.

“If we make it out of this alive with should actually get to know each other” she said.

You opened and shut your month before you could speak.

“What?” she raised an eyebrow.

You held her hand leading her to a free seat, “We have a whole train ride”, you guided her hands up to your temples, “You can see whatever you want”.

“You trust me just to look through your head?” she asked unsure.

“I do”.

You saw what she saw. You growing up on Asgard, a child you turning into a grown up you running through the field until your chest burnt, then lying in the grass until the sunset. Then to you working with the avengers, all the good and bad things you did. And all you had lost when Thanos snapped, the five years you spent alone and everything that brought you where you were with Sylvie.

You open your eyes and she was staring at you, looking over every detail for your face. “Now you know me better than anyone” you smiled dizzily, searching her face too. Everything around you had gone out of forces, the only thing you could forces on was Sylvie.

“I think I should return the favour” she whispered taking your hands in hers.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Investigations (Part 7): Ran Haitani x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.6k

tw: NSFW is you squint

masterlist

song recommendation:

You try your best to shuffle around the kitchen surreptitiously, clicking the espresso pod into the machine with a soft 'snap'.

The machine begins its duty, whirring to life before the liquid is deposited into the cup below.

Success.

Your fingers wrap around the mug and take it to the counter, where you've already prepared your milk and syrup for a quick and easy cup of coffee.

Lately, you've had to sneak and make coffee (all futile attempts ruined by Kai or Ran), but you consider today full of promise. You'd gotten the formula down so far.

"I thought I said no coffee."

Your hands hover over the cup, the steam caressing your fingers like a warm invitation. Your eyes don't move to look at Ran, but they do watch his fingers snatch the cup away from you - full of warm milk and espresso.

"Y/n, it's not good for the baby."

"Okay, but..." Your feet carry you to the sink, where Ran is pouring the concoction down the drain. "Just a taste?"

"No."

"A sip?"

"No."

"I'll make it and just stick my tongue in it once."

"No."

Ran stands firm on his opinions at all times. Especially now. Arms cross over your chest and you huff, turning away from him.

"So strict." Ran fingers slide down your neck, resting around your full hips.

"It's not just about you," he begins, kissing the space between your neck and shoulder. "I'm looking out for our child, too. You know that."

"I do," you groan.

"Now, we have a baby shower to host. Let's get ready."

_____________________________________________________________

"We thought you were gone forever!" The three women come around you and huddle close, cooing, and crying, spewing lamentations and satisfied praises that you've returned.

Sanzu - out of the kindness of his heart - planned the baby shower, and you're at his house, eating cake with your friends and consuming hors d'oeuvres. But when you find a free moment, you corner Ran in the kitchen.

"Did you tell the others?"

"Tell them what?" Ran tilts his head at you and leans onto the counter, frowning. Your face smoothes out into an expression of disappointment, and you sigh.

Of course, he hadn't.

It's still your job to carry this terrible secret. It's still your job to bury your deepest, darkest knowing, all while the other girls are parading about like their husbands aren't killers and extortionists.

"Hey, y/n! It's time to open the presents!"

_____________________________________________________________

The water surrounding your figure is warm, full of bubbles and Epsom salt, as well as a little bath bomb that Ran bought - well, he bought sixteen, but that's beside the point.

"Feeling okay? Is it too hot?" You look over to the man sitting on the toilet seat, his elbows resting on his knees as he observes you pour water over your belly.

"It's fine," you murmur, blinking slowly. "Feels good."

"Want to turn on the jets or--"

"I want to join Bonten." Ran's face drops, his violet eyes clouding with confusion.

"I'm sorry?"

"You heard me." You stare at him, fully intent on getting your desired response. "I want to be a part of what you do."

"Babe, no." Ran leans his head forward, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"You haven't even listened to me," you whisper, looking down at the ten toes poking out of the water. "You always do this. You tell me 'no' because that's the way you want things. I can't even drink coffee without your permission."

"Listen, I'll let you do whatever you want, but Bonten is out of the question. You're pregnant --"

"Then I can wait until I have the baby."

"Even after that, I'm going to say no. This is a dangerous business." He emphasizes his words with a shake of his head, pressing his lips together.

"You act like I wasn't an investigative journalist for ten years."

"This shit could get you killed, y/n."

"Yes," you begin. "But you do it every day. I want to be a part of it."

"Why?" Ran finally asks, and your lips curl into a smile.

"I know things you don't know. The media follows you very closely, and you need a good image if you ever run into a problem with... say, law enforcement. What better way to prove that this is a harmless organization than hiring a woman - your wife?" Ran quirks his lips, looking at the door of the bathroom with consideration.

"Is there any particular skill you'll avail to us other than just public relations? I mean, I could get someone to do that who isn't my wife."

"I have connections that will divert attention away from Bonten, if necessary." You think of the little group you and the other wives have created, and send a mental apology their way. "You can use me to get the word out about any other suspicious groups who might be involved. Aid and abet, like a good wife."

Ran stands from the toilet, sighing deeply. "I'll ask Mikey. But don't expect me to attempt to sway him with my loyalty. If anything, I'll ask him to really think about it before he makes a choice."

"That's all I want," you breathe, taking Ran's hand and pressing your lips against the back of it. "You're too good to me."

"Don't thank me yet, sweetheart."

_____________________________________________________________

Convincing Ran to part with his old-fashioned ways is something you're very skilled at. All you need to do is get on your knees... and be as sweet as you can be.

"Babe," you mutter, sucking Ran's thick cock from the side. "You're such a good husband."

"Buttering me up for Mikey, huh?" Fingers cup the back of your head and push you down slightly. "Why am I not surprised?"

And every single time, Ran sees straight through your little act. But he enjoys it nonetheless. He loves seeing you like this - giving him the attention he missed so much while you were gone.

"Because you know me so well. And that's why you married me."

That's why you married me. Ran's eyes close as he re-imagines himself the first time he decided to visit you, hands full of shit he didn't have to buy, and eyes full of stars at the sight of you answering the door in a tank top and shorts with a cast on your leg. That's when he knew that he wanted to marry you. Not because you're good at anything in particular, but because you were so ordinary... So normal. He needed someone like you then, and he needs you now.

"Stop."

"Am I doing something wrong?" you murmur, but Ran shakes his head, strands of his black and white hair flopping back and forth.

"You're perfect," he whispers. "You're always so perfect." He brings you off your knees and face to face with him, holding you by the arms. "Let me make love to you. I'll do the work," Ran promises. "You just enjoy yourself."

"But--"

"I've already told you what I'm going to do. Just let me give you what you deserve." Ran angles forward, leaning into a gentle kiss that makes your knees weak and your head spin.

Ran spoons you from behind on the bed, holding your leg up and sliding in and out of you with care. The other arm is holding you against him - wrapped around your chest - as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear.

"I love the way you moan my name," he breathes. "You always know how to make me feel like the only man in the world."

"You are," you reply honestly. "You're the only man for me."

_____________________________________________________________

"Why do you want to join Bonten?"

The dead eyes of the man across from you are unyielding, and part of you feels nervous that he's staring at you so intensely.

"I want to help you all out. I want to make sure that not only do my children have something to rely on when they grow up, but that my husband is taken care of in all ways."

"Your children and your husband?" You think of Ran, who is just outside of the door, probably pacing with his hands in his pockets. "Your husband just spent three hours arguing with me."

"About?"

"You." The man stands, and Sanzu looks over at him with blank eyes. He wants to chime in, but he can't say anything right now. Not when Mikey was supposed to handle this himself. "Your presence here will be controversial. Especially since you're... in the state you're in."

"Pregnancy isn't a fatal disease."

"No, but being in Bonten could be fatal. And I don't know if both ran and I would be willing to accept the consequences of two deaths on our hand."

"But--" Sanzu raises a finger to his lips, warning you to be quiet.

"However," the man murmurs, rolling his neck around. "Sanzu, Rindou, and Kakucho have vouched for you and your connections." Your shoulders slacken, and you lean back in the chair, somewhat relieved. "I will put it to an anonymous vote in thirty-six hours. Whatever the outcome is, we'll both accept it."

A blind vote.

Thirty-six hours.

"Thank you, sir." You stand and bow slightly, hands clasped together. When you leave the room, Ran is waiting for you in the hallway, eyes wide.

"Well?"

"It'll be put to an anonymous vote in thirty-six hours. Whatever happens, happens."

Ran's face is anything but pleased as you drive home, but you don't worry about that too much. You have one and a half days to wait for the results, and you'd make the best of it either way.

[blue-writes-things]

“Mudblood”

Sirius Black x Reader | Fluff / Angst

“For once you didn’t want to set the place on fire, you wanted to set yourself on fire”

| Masterlists | Words: 2225 Warnings: Shitty parents, Walburga and Orion’s A+ parenting, swearing, feminine pronouns   A/N: I still don’t know what pov this is, and also world ‘law’ inconsistencies. Edited Blue Moon Archives

Feedback is always appreciated! - Blue

---------------------------------------------

You’re standing in a crowd of people talking shit about each other or blood purity, blah, blah, blah. Although you’d rather be listening to the other people at this ‘Pureblood only’ party that your mother dragged you to, then listen to her talk at you, ripping at everything about you because the ribbon you tied around the waist of your dress was red and gold.

You wanted to have something with you that didn’t make you want to set everything on fire, or maybe you could borrow some of those fireworks James and Remus made, or - you got snapped out of your thoughts of ‘justified arson’ by someone yelling “Sirius Orion Black!”

Oh shit- that was one of the biggest reasons you hated going to these things since Sirius had ‘family’ in this little clique, he was dragged to them. You always made a big effort to not let anyone at Hogwarts know you were related to these monsters.

Everyone but a few Slytherins knew you as a muggleborn, Including your friends, you knew you should tell them the truth, but something always stopped you.

So you spent these parties hiding from Sirius, seeing him in a room meant you went to another, or even just went to the bathroom for the whole event so there was no way he would see you. You wanted to tell him, so these things wouldn’t be as bad, so you’d have someone to talk to, but you thought that if he, or any of your friends found out, you’d be dropped as their friend and that was the worst thing that could happen to you.

As Sirius and his mother walked into the room, you went to the other room, but unlucky, Sirius saw the little bit of red in the sea of green, going after you, knowing that no one who went to these things would ever wear red. But he missed you by a second. A seconded that, to you, saved your friendship. You and Sirius ended up playing a game of hide and seek for the rest of the night before you finally got to leave.

The next morning when you walked into the common room to see James, Remus and Lily sitting on the floor watching Sirius pace in front of the fireplace talking faster than a snitch flies.

“Who broke Sirius?” you raise your eyebrows sitting next to Remus on the floor.

“He had to go to one of those pureblood parties and a girl was there” he sighs, you stiffen, knowing it was you

“It’s not about her being a girl! It was that she had a red ribbon!” he yelled, before dramatically falling to lay on the floor.

“What’s it matter that she was wearing a red ribbon?” Lily asked leaning on James, making him turn as red as the couch “No don’t make him talk again!” Remus half laughs, but was also being a bit serious (no pun intended)

“Because! If you were listening, no one at these parties wears red, it’s like poison to them, meaning this girl must have known that and chose to wear it, meaning she doesn’t think like them!”

“Sounds like your jumping to conclusions Pads,” James says, still red “No! Cause she also was basically running from me all night

“She sounds smart” You smirk “Either way, why does it matter?” “It means that there’s someone there who is also a Gryffindor, you guys wouldn’t understand…” He trails off, you wanted so badly to hug him and say, I know exactly what you’re saying

“Guys, I’m hungry, can we go to breakfast now?” Remus whines standing up, we all nod and agree getting up

“Last person there has to do Sirius’s homework!” you half yell making everyone run out of the room down to the great hall, once everyone gets there, Lily ends up coming last, meaning James will end up doing Sirius’s homework.

“How do you always get here first?” Remus says panting (pun 100% intended)

“Cause I remember all the shortcuts here” he grins

“I think that’s cheating and Sirius is disqualified meaning he has to do his own homework, all in favour?” Lily glaring but smiling at Sirius as everyone, but him raises their hand “You’re all sore losers!” everyone laughed sitting down and starting to eat.

About halfway through breakfast a bunch of owls come in, dropping everyone letters. You don’t pay too much attention to it, you rarely get letters, and when you do, it’s just your parents shouting insults at you. So when a letter drops in front of you it made you flinch. Noting it’s in a green envelope you shove it in your pocket. Sirius frowns but doesn’t say anything.

The group go about the day, having classes, watching James try to flirt with Lily, Sirius trying to flirt with you, the norm.

But after charms with Slytherin, you and the boys had planned a prank for Lucius Malfoy, he was bullying a first-year Hufflepuff, no one messes with Hufflepuffs and gets away with it.

Right as it was about to go into action, he got out of the way of the red dye about to fall on his plantation blonde hair. The group all groan, seeing Severus smirk as he leaves the classroom, you guess he told Malfoy about it but the looks of things.

“Watch it ‘mudblood’.” he smirks, putting ‘mudblood’ in quotations, he was one of the people who knew about you not being muggleborn, he said he wouldn’t tell anyone, but now he uses it as blackmail on you.

“Don’t call her that!” Sirius yells, going to pull out his wand, to hex him into next year.

“Y/N, I suggest you control your friend there, he does anything to me, I’ll tell your little group about your dearest mother and father. To be honest, I’m surprised you’ve kept your mouth shut about it for so long” he chuckles as he turns to leave, Sirius fuming about to go after him again

“Sirius. Just, leave it” you mumble

“Why! He can’t say that to you!”

“Cause we’d get detention and I have a…thing…I need to go to this weekend, and if I miss it, I’ll get bea- in big trouble….I’m going to the library I have homework to do, I’ll see you guys later” you rush off

“She’s not going to the library” Remus utters, both James and Sirius look at him funny “You can’t get to library from that way”

“I’ll catch up with you guys,” Sirius says going off after you

“Wanna go get lunch Moony?” James says after Sirius runs off

“Sounds good”

***

You reach the black lake, taking out the letter your parents sent you this morning, ripping it open and reading it. It was the normal ‘disgrace, worthless, traitor’ it hurts more than you expected, plus a reminder at the bottom that you’re going to another gathering this weekend.

You drop the letter next to you, hugging your knees to your chest, tears start falling. You sat like that for almost an hour before someone sat next to you

“Been lookin’ for you everywhere love” you look up and It’s Sirius “What’s wrong?”

He frowns looking down seeing the letter, and a green envelope, just like the ones his family sends him, he goes to grab it, but you snatch it away before he can

“What’s the letter say? It’s clearly upset you” he shuffles closer to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. Not thinking clearly, you say the first excuse that comes to your mind

“Mum just told me that, my aunt died,” you say not looking at him

“Y//n, I know that’s not true”

“What do you mean it’s not true! I just read the bloody letter”

“Cause this is the fourth letter in a row telling you that an aunt has died, you’re not very good at lying”

“You’d be surprised” you mumble so Sirius doesn’t hear you

“Come on, you can tell me anything, you can tell me the truth”

“You don’t want to know the truth, Sirius!” You snap at him running up to the castle.

You spent the rest of the week avoiding your friends, well Sirius, but he’s always with them, so it meant avoiding them too.

It was Saturday night, and you were at the pureblood party, and completely miserable. You go over and stand next to your father

“Couldn’t help but bring that ‘Gryffindor’ pride with you?” your father says looking down at you. You’ve never felt so small “Take that stupid thing off”  

“S-sorry father” you look down you taking off the red ribbon

“Disgrace” he mutters walking away

Not wanting to look as alone as you felt, you go outside though some fancy glass doors, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, for once you didn’t want to set the place on fire, you wanted to set yourself on fire, you felt cold, but not from the weather, from spending a week away from your friends, and re-reading all the letters your ‘family’ sent to you.

You didn’t notice, but Sirius had just walked in. He’s looking around for the red ribbon, hoping that ‘whoever’ she is, was here tonight, he sees the ribbon by the doors, smirking “fuckin’ finally” he thinks, once he’s outside he sees that it’s you.

“Y-Y/n?”

Your eyes go wide ‘well tonight can’t get worse’ you think, turning to him but not daring to look in his eyes

“How’d you get here? What are you doing here?”

“Same as you” You show Sirius the ‘invite’ to the party

“I-I don’t understand, you’re not muggleborn you’re pureblood? Why didn’t you tell me?” he frowns

“I didn’t want you to think of me as one of them” You look inside, you can practically hear them saying mudblood

You could see cogs turning his brain though his eyes as he was piecing it all together “All the letters were from them?”

You nod, pulling out a bunch of paper from your bag “Only letters I ever get” you choke handing them to Sirius He looks through them, anger boiling inside him

“They say I’m a traitor, pathetic, disappointment, disgrace, worthless, unloved, unneeded…I guess I am really” Sirius pulls you into a hug.

“You’re nothing like them, and you’re none of those things, I’m so glad I met you, I don’t know where I’d be without you… actually I do, I’d be in there bored outta my mind,” You hold him tighter burying your head in his neck

You hear Sirius’s mother calling him from inside, you pull away smirking at him, and spark in your eye, as if you weren’t about to burst out crying.

Sirius looks at you confused but smiling “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours”

“Well since we’re stuck here for a bit, why don’t we have some fun” you grin tying ribbon back around your waist

“I like the sound of that”

You grab Sirius’s hand and pull in inside to where a song is playing and people are dancing respectfully in pairs.

“Hey, Pads? May I have this dance?”

“Hey, isn’t that my line?”

You roll your eyes as you both go to where the dancing is. Sirius holds you by your waist pulling you close

You raise your eyebrow and Sirius winks at you “Do you know what personal space is?” smirking you wrap your arms around his neck, only making you both closer “Doesn’t seem like you mind” his voice drops an octave

“Who would mind being this close to Sirius Orion Black” Sirius looks down at your lips.

“The way my name sounds coming off your lips is making me want to kiss you,” he says sensually, smirking and pulling you closer (if that’s even possible) you bite your lip, flicking your eyes from his lips

“Sirius.Orion.Black”

He crashes his lips to yours, sending sparks through each other, it felt like it was always meant to be, but ruining the moment both your mothers are pulling you apart, saying things like blood traitors, despicable, etc, making you both laugh

“See you at school!” Sirius calls as his mother drags him out

“If we make it back!”

You both laugh, your mothers going off.

~ A few months later ~

You were taking a walk around the grounds finding Sirius sitting by the black lake holding a letter “Parents?” you say sitting by him, wrapping him in a hug as he nods

“Th-they disowned me…It’s like I don’t give a fuck, I hate them…but it still hurts”

You laugh a bit “You’re kidding right?” “Hm?” he tilts his head to the side as you pull a letter from your robes

“Got it yesterday” you hand letter to him He lets out a laugh “They disowned you too?!” “They couldn’t wait one day? So we can get disowned together?” you both laugh

“I love you, Sirius Orion”

“Now that sounds so much better coming from your lips” he has his cheeky grin on his face “Does it make you want to kiss me?” you smirk “It makes me want to kiss you forever” as he pulls you into a passionate kiss.

[sxdmoonchxld]

Proven Wrong | KTH

Taehyung x reader

Words: 4k+

Genre: smut

Warnings: Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Fingerfucking, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Begging, Multiple Orgasms, Very Big Dick Tae, Like Scary Big, Like Gut Splitting Big, Unrealistic Sex, Belly Bulge, Bad Dirty Talk, Unprotected Sex, Gets A Little Dubious Consent Towards The End

Summary: You call his dick small. He proves that it’s not, by wrecking your pussy ;)

a/n: again i use to be lizardsocial. this was my most popular story on here so im bringing it back as well. i think you can find the original one on here somewhere. i don’t expect it to get half as many notes it did the first time but thas okai. i’ve edited kinda heavily so it's a little different from the original. its filthier. anywhos. Enjoy!

__________________________________________

Loud music blasted throughout your apartment, the rumbling bass from the speakers reverberated through your bedroom walls. Pictures and posters rippled with each vibration, struggling to retain their original position. You groaned in annoyance, you honestly thought your request was quite simple. Just a couple of hours. 120 minutes of quietness was all you asked for so that you could study for your upcoming calculus test. He knew how important this exam was to you. He evened 'pinky promise, cross your heart hope to die'. That he would give you the silence needed to stay focused. And everyone knew you don't break a pinky promise.

Even now in your annoyance, his voice still played on a constant loop in your head.

"Oh! Yea ___, not a problem. I can keep it quiet for you. So don't you worry a hair on your pretty little head!" Taehyung had said, waving his hand in the air feigning nonchalance.

That cute signature boxy smile of his planted face. You actually thought that for once he would keep his word, and you could get some precious studying time, but no. The tiny 2-bedroom shared apartment was full of heavy jazz music and high-pitched shrieking from what sounded like a cat being skinned alive. Who even listens to jazz music when trying to fuck?

The last thread of patience had now been pulled too thin and finally snapped. Your desire to study was gone with the wind, and in its place, irritability and wrath began to take root. You slammed your laptop closed and threw it to the end of the bed along with your papers and textbook. Jumping out of bed, you stomped your way out of the bedroom, eyes searching frantically for your target.

"Taehyung!" You yelled once you began to process the scene that was in front of you. The living room was in shambles, Taehyung's phone was hooked up to the speaker, the volume loud enough you swore angels in heaven could hear. An empty soda bottle, chip bags and clothes littered the floor. Don't even get you started on the couch pillows! Your one of a kind thrift finds were strewn all over the place. You felt your blood pressure rising, the vein at your temple fattening in rage and pulsing wildly. Your jaw threatening to ache from how hard you were grinding your teeth out of anger.

Your eyes investigated the vicinity for Taehyung and low and behold there he was on the now bare couch. Lying underneath him was the source of the vexatious screeches. He was dry humping on some random chick with his mouth fiercely attached to her neck, deep purple bruises vivid from where you stood across the room. You rolled your eyes at the pair. You knew damn well Taehyung's thin lips and weak thrusts didn't call for all that useless screaming. 

You stomped over to the speaker, your sock padded feet slapping against the hardwood floor, and yanked the cord from the wall. Already the apartment was halfway quiet except for the banshee that was still squawking her head off.

"Hey! Shut the fuck up with all that noise!" You roared, scaring the girl and finally bringing their attention to your heated figure. Taehyung separated his lips from the girl's neck with a wet smack dislodging himself from between her spread thighs.

"Y/n, so nice of you to join us. How is studying going?" Taehyung spoke with a grin plastered on his handsome face. You resisted the urge to reach out and slap it off. He knew that you couldn't or anybody for a fact, could study with all the noise that was just previously filling the confines of the apartment. Yet here he was playing with the smidge of patience you had left by trying to simulate naiveté.

"All I asked was for you to be silent so that I could study for my upcoming test, and you said that you would. But instead, I am interrupted by your noisy ass music. Jazz music at that and this bitch here screaming at the top of her lungs!" You growled out between clenched teeth. The female gasped at your words embarrassment transforming her features, while Taehyung sat there with a blank look on his face, apparently unamused with your little rant.

"Oh my! Please excuse my rude roommate Mino. Obviously, her parents forgot to teach her basic manners. Let me walk you to the door." Taehyung spoke his fluffy curls swaying with the shakes of his head. A look of disappointment aimed your way as he began helping her gather her things and walking her to the front door.

"Umm, actually my name is Mina." She corrected Taehyung, but you could see it on his face that he could care less about the girl's name. Taehyung looked at her for a few seconds, as if he was processing the correct information of the girl's name.

"Yeah. Mona, that's what I said, isn't it?" Taehyung deadpanned, pushing her through the front door. Mina huffed at the fact that Taehyung continued to get her name wrong. You observed the pitiful interaction as you began to clean up the mess they made. You could tell from the look in Mina's eyes that she wanted more with Taehyung, but you knew that would never happen. Taehyung was a manwhore, a fuckboy, man thot, whatever the preferred term was. He had a new girl every night, and if he did try the whole "relationship smorgasbord" as he called it. The relationship usually didn't last for more than a week, before he was on to his next conquest.

"Tae?" You questioned meekly.

"Hmm?" He hummed head-turning slightly in your direction.

"Why do you do these things to me." You were genuinely curious as to why he made it his mission to push your every button. This wasn't the first time his action has hindered you from completing an important task. You just didn't understand why he chose to make your life more complicated than it already was.

"Awe is little __ j-jealous?" Taehyung taunted in a high-pitched voice used to entertain babies or puppies.

"Huh?!" You gasped choking on your saliva.  Shit, you almost gave yourself whiplash with how fast you swung your neck to make full eye contact.

"Did you wish that was you, I was grinding on?" Taehyung continued to taunt as he walked into the kitchen to rinse his mouth out with water. That Mina girl had put way too much perfume on her neck. Now he was left with a sour aftertaste in his mouth. It tasted cheap, and Taehyung didn't do cheap.

If he was sincere with himself, he did wish it was you he was giving all his attention instead of these random girls. He considered you cute and innocent, with an air of sexiness. That he was pretty sure you weren't conscious of. In all actuality, Taehyung was smitten with you from the first time he saw when you came to ask about the roommate needed sign he had posted. The cute little freshman with a quirky personality and full of ambition. Those first 10 minutes of meeting you had him sprung like no other.  You were way different from the usual girls he was used to. Which shouldn't be much of a surprise since most just wanted to fuck, have money spent on them. Oh! Of course, the bragging rights, that they actually got to fuck THE Kim Taehyung.

Don't get him wrong, there had been a countless amount of times he had tried to gain your attention. But you were too busy holed up in your room with your pretty little head stuck in a book to give him the time of day. So instead Taehyung reverted back to his middle school ways and chose to torment and irritating you as a way to receive some type of reaction from you. He would take whatever he could get, he was becoming that desperate.

"What exactly did I have to be jealous of? You do know she was faking it right? I didn't think you to be so naive Tae, because you and I both know that them thin ass lips-" You stopped to point at the box that made up his mouth. "And that speck in your pants that you call a dick can't make anyone scream." You declared assuredly, moving your pointer finger down to his crotch. Pride and confidence swelled in your chest at the insult thrown at him. 'Good one __'

Taehyung spat out the water he was swishing around in his mouth and whipped his head in your direction. Did you just stand there and try to insult his manhood? Nah, clearly his hearing had to be a little off, right?

"Excuse me, what did you just say? My ears must be failing me." Taehyung said wiping the stray droplets of water from his mouth, sticking a finger in his ear to loosen the imaginary earwax there. Amused, he sauntered towards you, a ghost of a smirk rising on his face.

"You heard me, Mr.Kim. Your micropenis couldn't pleasure anything but your hand if even that." You said backing up, as he prowled closer to you, his shoulder in a tense bunch raised close to his ears. Any amusement his face could have held was gone, in its place was a dark, unreadable expression. His mouth fixed in a firm line, and the tip of his ears blossomed red. Flames of anger and lust flashing in his chocolate eyes.

"My sweet __, nothing about me is little. I can guarantee that." Taehyung growled out, his already deep voice deepened in tone. You scoffed trying to portray indifference but continued backing away from his advancing until your back made contact with the wall. Shit.

Taehyung placed his hands beside your head, caging you in. Your eyes fluttered softly as you breathe in his rich cologne encased your senses, dark, woodsy with just a hit of a floral note. His eyes roamed your face, taking in your features before settling on your lips. You self-consciously licked them before tucking them between your teeth. Taehyung leaned his face closer to yours.

"Such a pretty little mouth you have. Has anyone told you how troublesome it could be though?" Taehyung questioned, his thumb on his left coming up to your upper lip.

You could feel your heart beating against your ribcage, feel your cheeks heat up, and dare you say; a gush of wetness in the seat of your boy shorts.  The sexual tension was too powerful for your weak defences. Against your better judgment, you let your eyes flutter closed, and lips pucker expectantly anticipating the moment his lips would meet yours. Except Taehyung had other plans.

He shifted his head to the right, placing a gentle kiss on the lobe of your ear. Slowly moving his lips up to the outer shell of your ear.

You couldn't help the surprised moan that left your mouth as you unconsciously tilted your head back, offering your neck to his probing advances.

"Would you like me to prove you wrong?" Taehyung challenged in a whisper. His deep voice sending shocks of pleasure zinging down your spine. He trailed his lips down your neck, pressing gentle kisses against the surface. You had to choke back the moan that threatened to escape you at the feeling of his soft lips on your neck.

"N-no, Taehyung." You panted breathlessly.

"I don't feel like finding my glasses to look at something too small for the naked eye to see." You spoke, resolute on getting in one last insult. Taehyung pulled his face away from your neck, growling at your words.

"Haha, hilarious." He laughed humorously.

He pulled your body away from the wall, hoisted you up over his shoulder with a small grunt, and made his way to his bedroom. Kicking the door open before unceremoniously throwing you on his plush king-sized bed. 'Not good'.

Taehyung stood at the edge of the bed staring at you with unadulterated lust clouding his eyes. His chest heaved heavily with anger or arousal, you weren't sure. But based on the sizable tent in his pants, you could guess the latter.

"Taehyung! I already told you I don't want to see your baby-." You started but was cut off by Taehyung grabbing your ankles and pulling you roughly to the edge of the bed, pouncing on you. His lips met yours in a kiss that stole your breath away. The kiss was sensual and firm, but you could tell he was holding back.

Taehyung snaked his hand up your body, and into your hair, giving it a sharp tug. You gasped at the slight pain giving him a clear path to ease his tongue into your mouth, coiling itself around your own, deepening the kiss further. He thoroughly explored your mouth not leaving one surfaced untouched by his tongue, greedily swallowing your needy moans. Fuck he tasted good. Like oranges and burnt sugar.

Taehyung detached from your mouth to remove his shirt and to help you remove your tank top as-well. Your nipples pebbling from the chilly air and arousal. His eyes studied your body, you wanted so badly to shield yourself away from his unwavering stare.

"You're so beautiful. I've waited so long for this." Taehyung whispered before attacking your throat with kisses. You whined out in pleasure, your hips bucking up with every love bite he delivered, your body was aching in need for more.

"Tae. P-please more. G-give me m-more." You keened in between pants of air.

Your hips now undulated in tiny circles as Taehyung trailed his kisses down your neck, to your breast. He sucked and bit the soft skin around your nipple lightly. Soon his tongue gently wrapped around your nipple, sucking it into his warm mouth, while his hand teased the other breast, kneading and pinching your nipple. Your moans were increasing in volume, at his assault.

Your legs widened on their own accord, making more room for Taehyung. Your pussy was weeping profusely. The boy shorts you were wearing were thoroughly drenched, and with each movement of your hips, your arousal perfumed the air. Releasing your nipple, he continued his way down your chest, moving his lips across your stomach. Down, down he goes until he's kissing you down to where your torso joins your pelvis. He trained his eyes on you, eager to see your reaction as he pulled your boy shorts off from your body with a wet smack.

"Tell me what you want love. Use your big girl voice for me." Taehyung cooed in a provoking tone. You would have told him to fuck off if it wasn't for his mouth hovering right over your clenching core, his hot breath attacking your pussy lips.

"Cat got your tongue? You sure did have a lot of things to say earlier." Taehyung teased once more. You moaned with each word he said, your hips thrusting upwards, hoping to find his mouth.

"Please! Just touch my pussy, lick it, do something! Stop teasing me!" You urged, bringing your hands up to stimulate your breast, you didn't know how much more teasing you could take. You could feel your essence seeping between your ass cheeks and coating the bed. The dull ache in your stomach was intensifying, and he had barely touched you.

"Mmm, well since you begged nicely." Taehyung replied, wasting no time in attacking your pussy. His broad tongue licked wide strips up against your pussy. Splitting your lips with the appendage with each pass to dip his tongue into your pulsating hole. Your hands found his soft brown hair as your back arched off the bed, pushing your cunt deeper into his face.

"Y-yeahfuck! Like that it's so good!" You whined slurring your words.

Taehyung shifted his probing muscle's attention to your clit, attacking it with kitten licks. You shouted loudly, as your thighs were beginning to shake. The coil in your stomach tightening almost painfully. He wrapped his strong arms around your thighs, your knees were hitched higher up almost touching your chest in this position.

But this way, he had much more leverage to devour you. The comforter on his bed bunching uncomfortably beneath your ass but at this moment you gave zero fucks. Taehyung had total control now, showing no remorse as your upper body thrashed about on the bed. Your hands were no longer able to reach his hair, so you opted for your own instead, pulling harshly on your roots.

"Fuck, Taehyung!" You wailed shrilly. Taehyung chuckled at the sounds you were making, remembering your words from earlier he couldn't wait to hear what you sounded like taking his dick.

He then rubbed two thick fingers in the abundance of fluids that your pussy was producing and gently eased them into your tight core.

"Not only is baby girl surprisingly noisy, but she's also pretty tight too." You clenched even more around his fingers, your wall throbbing wildly around them.  

"I can't wait to feel you around my dick." Taehyung moaned sucking your clit into his mouth, delivering hard sucks as his fingers pumped into you at a moderate speed. Sadly, the introduction of his fingers was your undoing. You couldn't help as your legs stuck straight in the air. Body arching off the bed and bowed forward as your orgasm hit you like a freight train knocking the wind from your lungs.

Your eyes were shut tightly, and your mouth hung open in a silent scream as your body convulsed from the intensity of your orgasm. Taehyung had a hard time holding you down but continued his assault on your creaming pussy. He slurped as much of your cream as he could, absolutely addicted to the way you tasted.

"T-Tae, stop-p." You called out to him pathetically. Your intense orgasm had passed, but he was still thrusting shallowly inside your tight core, lapping at your clit. The oversensitivity was becoming too much, as you struggled to wiggle away from him. Taehyung withdrew his fingers and ceased his licking with one last kiss on your clit, making you flinch at the contact.

Taehyung beheld your fucked out appearance with pride. Your legs splayed open, displaying your spasming cunt. The way your chest was swiftly rising and falling as you struggled to catch your breath. Your hair stood up in every direction from your previous pulling, body trembling with aftershocks, and all he did was eat you out and finger you.

"Wow." You mumbled your eyes closing, sleep trying to claim you.

"Oh, nonono. I'm not done with you yet." Taehyung proclaimed, flipping you onto your stomach. He had to admit he was the hardest he had ever been in his life. His pants were now unbearably tight, and a wet spot at the crotch of his pants started to become visible. Taehyung tugged the offending material off hissing as his massive erection made contact with the air, free from being confined. You lifted yourself with jelly arms onto your knees, wanting to see what the commotion was behind you.

You choked on your spit for the second time today, as your eyes made contact with the angry red monster Taehyung called his cock. Not only was he unbelievably thick; a little bigger than your wrist, but he was also long. In his hands was the living definition of a third leg. He was crazy if he actually thought that would fit inside of you?

"Fuck that shit!" You cursed trying to scramble to the headboard of the bed, but Taehyung halted your escape, grabbing your ankles and yanking you back.

He would have laughed at your reaction, but he was too turned on, there was so much blood rushing to his cock he felt lightheaded. He wasted no time in putting you back in your previous position. Pulling your ass up so that it was sticking in the air and your torso was lying flat on the bed, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.

"Tae! Wait...you can't be serious!" You tried pleading with him terrified that thing he called his dick was going to tear you apart.

"Not so little am I baby?" He snickered

Don't worry, you can take it I'll go slow." Taehyung groaned his voice strained, his arousal was beginning to take a toll on him. Taehyung grabbed his shaft and brought the bulbous tip of his cock to rub against your clit. You mewled with pleasure, his tip was hot and the pre-come he was leaking added to the sensation of relaxing and reigniting your body.

Taehyung continued to stroke his tip along your clit thoroughly coating it with your thick fluids. He placed the thick head at your entrance, your juices helping him to slide in. He watched in amazement as your leftover cum gather around the head of his cock in a coating out creamy white. Your body tensed up at the massive intrusion, your cunt pulsated wildly around him, drawing a deep groan from his throat.

"Baby relax, you're squeezing so tight." Taehyung moaned out affected by your spasming core. He reached his hand underneath your body and strummed at your clit once again, coxing you to relax.

Taehyung took your distraction as his cue to shove the offending length inside your prone pussy. You squealed at the sudden fullness and intense burning. Bucking your hips, trying to dislodge him. It was too much to take, especially at this position. Your pussy was going to rip in half.

"B-bi-iig-g. To-o mu-ch." You whined out stuttering horribly.

Taehyung gripped your hips harder to stop your fitful twisting and bucking. He felt as though he was about to explode you were so damn tight and wet, your bucking didn't help his case any either. He didn't wait this long to finish early. He refused to be a one pump chump. Taehyung reached his hand back underneath your body to locate your clit, rubbing it in firm tight circles, to help relax you, and sure enough; like magic, after you adjusted to his massive size, your body was suddenly filled with mind-numbing pleasure. Your whimpers turned into loud groans as you threw your hips back onto Taehyung, giving him the okay to start moving.

"Hell yeah. That's it, baby girl work this tight little cunt on my cock." He grunts before he withdrew his length and slammed back in, his dick splitting your sensitive walls, hitting every spot inside your clenching cunt. His strokes were fast, broad, and powerful, never had you felt so full in your life. Your mouth was gaped open, as shrieks of pleasure fell from your jaws, drool dripped from your lips, and dots blurred your vision. You could feel him in your guts, branding himself inside you. The coil in your stomach was quickly tightening, ready to release what was no doubt, going to be the most intense orgasm your body was about to experience. Taehyung could feel your core tightening up further, your tight little pussy was far better than he could have expected, he wanted to punch himself for waiting this long to indulge in you.

"You're taking this big cock so well, baby. Such a good girl." Taehyung growled.

"But I have a secret to tell you." You shivered as he stopped mid-stroke. You felt the warmth and damp skin of his torso drape over your back. Like pudding in his hands. You didn't even flinch as he brought his large callused hands up through the part in your breast to wrap around your throat.

Ever so slightly he squeezed the sides of your neck, you felt him throb in your stomach as you clenched even tighter around him at the action. Slowly he lifted your head up with his hand still on your neck. Again he squeezed. Bringing his lips down to your ear, he said, "Would you believe me if I said you're only taking half of me in."

The way your jaw dropped and your eyes bugged out of your head would have been comical. If you weren't genuinely terrified, that is.

"O-nly half! That's impossible I swear your touch my small intestine already." You tried to look back to see if he was lying or not, but he tightened his hold on your neck, forcing your head back to look up at him. Your body was now bowed in an almost perfect 'C' shape. You felt his other hand snake around your abdomen and press on the bulge that was his cock poking through your stomach. Again he throbbed in excitement.

"You were talking such a big game earlier baby girl, what happened? Surely you could all of a dick that's as little as mine. Right?" Taehyung scolded in your ear.

Little by little, he began pulling you more on his cock by your neck. And fuck he really wasn't lying he really had more length to feed your cunt.

"Ta-ae, pleaseplease n-o more-e, I can't take it m-my stomach hurts." You whined

"Hmm? But you're so close to taking all of me in. Just a few more inches, and I'll be all in." He responded.

Not wasting any more time he released your neck, and before you could fall down to the bed. He locked his fingers in your hair and firmly yanked, lifting you off the mattress, and into his arms, allowing himself the rest of the way in.

You screamed out as his hips met your ass with a wet smack. The increase in pressure coupled with the new position broke the levee to your release. You trembled uncontrollably as your orgasm started from your toes. Quickly spreading to your arms and head before finally spreading throughout your whole body, you were rendered speechless as your orgasm claimed you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as a burst of white light flashed behind your eyes, incoherent sounds of what was supposed to be Taehyung's name filled the space around you.

Through it all Taehyung continued to fuck into you almost violently, allowing your cores convulsions to wash over him. His body dripped with sweat as he briefly picked up his speed, his hips beginning to stutter. He held your thrashing body close to his as delivered his last couple of thrusts before moaning loudly and exploding his hot seed inside of your wrecked cunt.

You both fell breathlessly on the mattress, sweat polishing your skin, exhaustion quickly making its way to claim you. Taehyung pulled slowly out of your battered and swollen pussy. On wobbly legs, walked to the restroom to get a washcloth to clean the mess that was between your thighs. You moaned at the textured touch of the cloth and the dampness of it soothing the hot burn from your pussy.

Your whole body was numb, and you were utterly worn out, so much so, that when Taehyung pulled you into his arms, you didn't even argue.

In the morning you will definitely be having a word with him. But for now, you let his racing heartbeat lull you to some much-needed sleep.