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the-fandom-is-now-my-life · 5 months ago

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Won't say I'm in love

Your friend asks about your crush and why you haven't confessed yet, so what is your reasoning

It's most of them but whatever

Jin

“Don't even think about pushing me to confess”

“Why not? He treats you so nice~” she lifts her fingers as she counts “bought you a few pairs of dresses for the gala, protected you in vagastorm, lent you a boat for a mission”

Tired you interrupt her with your reasons “First, I want to get married and I doubt he either wants to marry or he doesn't have already some arranged marriage type of deal” you lift two fingers as you refer to the two possibilities “and I think his dad would hate me, honestly” she rolls her eyes, knowing from what you told her he wouldn't really care what he thought.

“And your second excuse?”

You stay silent for a second but look into her eyes “And second, there is a non zero chance that he might be making me fall so I can potentiate his stigma” your friend pats your back, sensing how your mood went sour.

Kaito

“I do find his neediness cute! Yeah, chase after me and ask me my number and tell me I'm the prettiest in this school!” you clap your hands together and anchor them to your knees, looking like a businessman selling a hard proposal to shareholders “but that loses its charm when it's every other girl that looks at him, I like loser men when they are desperate for me, not in general”

Luca

“I like Luca, that is a fact, but he is already so burdened by search for his brother that I doubt he is even interested in romance or anything like that”

Your friend bites into her veggie sandwich and looks at you doubtful “and you don't want to try because you don't want the confirmation or are you a coward?”

Sighing into your hands you continue “and even if he was into romance and liked me back I wouldn't want to burden him with my curse”

“And you think you should be the only one deciding that?” she continues to judge you making you whine a little ‘i hate you’

Leo

“He is an asshole” you say plain and simple, making your friend launch forward holding her stomach “he isn't really that much nicer to Sho, who is his best friend, he is always pushing him around and ordering him to do things. Plus the bet he made with me makes it sound like he would never fall for me” your friend nods along to your reasoning “I think I'm happy enough being delulu when he grabs me as his girlfriend for his videos”

Sho

“He looks at you with so tenderly~ please you can't deny it”

“I mean he is very sweet and takes me on rides with Bonnie but there is just a little something that makes me uneasy” her head leans to the left curious “Ren told me he used to be a Casanova a few years back, that is making me a bit resistant to accepting my feelings”

She rolls her eyes, were you truly thinking so hard about his smack talk? “And you are taking his word for real? For all that you know he could be salty he isn't good at flirting”

“Given my situation I don't think I would be able to deal with a heartbreak right now”

Haru

“He is just so busy, working from the break of dawn to dusk, I would hate to give him the burden of a partner”

“Then why don't you ease his work a bit?”

“My only ability is potentiate stigmas, nothing that could help protect me, and there is a reason there aren't any general students in jabberwock. At most I could cook for them and feed peekaboo”

“And you aren't happy with helping him with that?”

You snort, fed up with her not understanding your point “I know Haru, he would overexert himself even more trying to be a good boyfriend”

Towa

“I mean…” you say jokingly after she asked you why you don't confess to Towa. She laughs in response “I'm just going to say that it almost feels like I'm fighting a war for his interest and the other party doesn care, yet I'm still losing” she laughs under her hand, trying to keep it down. You look at her seeking confirmation “doesn't it look like it? I gave him flowers and he fed me one and left to share with Haru the others”

“That even hurt me”

“So, yeah, not a very promising future even if he accepts my confession”

Ren

“Do you like charity cases or something?” her eyes widened, stunned, when you told her about your crush.

“Can't you be a little nicer? It isn't like I was going to confess for real”

“Why? I doubt he gets much romantic attention, he most likely would accept” you kick her under the table causing her to look at you offended.

“it's just that I already have a negative forecast for the end of this year and his negativity can be cute like, yeah keep bitching about the wifi speed, gamer boy” you laugh a little “but at some point it's tiring, like I want to hang out, can you not whine about the sun? It might be just another annoying day for him but it's one day less for me”

Taiga

You look at her as if she lost her mind. “You want me to confess to Taiga, Taiga Hoshibami, who can't even remember my name?”

“Maybe he will remember you if you give him matching trinkets” she rubs her shoulder against yours, playfully teasing about your crush.

“My goodness, it will be more likely that the cure is found so drop it”

“Well then let's bet, if Yuri finds you a cure you will have to confess, if he doesn't I won't” you whine about it but in the end accept.

Ritsu

A hand lays on your friend's shoulder making her turn “Yesterday I did as you told me and I asked him if he wanted to stay and drink coffee at my dorm after we did some work” your friend now looks interested at any update on your love life but looking at your face she already knows it isn't anything good “he looked me straight in the eye and deadpan said ‘Do you have something you want to consult with me? You already know my fee, right?’ I wanted to die of embarrassment!”

“Well, why not be more direct?”

“I told him two compliments, ‘you look so good in your suit today!’ and ‘the sinostra tie color makes your eyes pop’ and he looked at me weirdly” you rest your head on your friend's shoulder, her hand sliding up and down your back “and don't even propose being more direct because I'm so sure he would file for sexual harassment it isn't even funny” you both laugh at your despair

Rui

Your friend looks wide eyed at your refusal to

“He does flirt with me and makes me all giggly and my cheeks heat up, but he flirts as a joke with quite a few people so I might be misunderstanding the situation”

“The one who kills whatever he touches and the one who is going to die! Pretty matching curses if I say so myself, almost destiny” she elbows your ribs to attempt to make you laugh but rather she sees your hurt expression “ill timed joke. Sorry”

“You are so stupid”

Yuri

“Stop judging me!”

She looks at you oddly “is this something like reverse nightingale syndrome or something?” She teases “I personally can't really see what you see, he yells all the time and acts all high and mighty”

You gasp offended “that is not true! He was so vulnerable with me during one check up on mortkraken I just couldn't help my heart” you remember him telling you about how he wasn't able to help his mother get better and how guilty he felt because of it and almost implied he would make it up curing your curse “I just don't want to put more pressure on him to investigate and make him lose more sleep over it, it's one thing to lose a patient and another one to lose a significant other”

Jiro

“no but listen to me,” you tap her side with your hand “do I think Jiro is handsome physically? Yeah, very much. Do I think his personality is adorable and cute? Of course! Does that equal me confessing to him? As if!” your friend laughs and leans backwards while holding her stomach “he told me he had no attachment to food or clothing or whatever! Am I supposed to think he can have romantic feelings after that statement?” you exclaim waiting for any type of answer from your friend who only nods along, recognizing you had a point.

#tokyo debunker x reader #tokyo debunker #tdb

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sweetiecutie · 2 years ago

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Pairing: husband! Tom Riddle x fem! wife! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, kinda public sex but there’s no one around, fluff!!, kinda domestic and soft, inaccurate bc there’s no way sexy two pieces existed back in the 1950’s💀, once again my horrible knowledge of basic grammar

A/n: really felt like writing lil something for hubby Tom🥰 Sorry for disappearing for such a long period, I have lots of cool ideas and drafts but my adhd never allows me to finish any on them;( Anyways, wish you a very pleasant reading and hope you enjoy💖

It was a sultry sunny day, the kind you experience in the middle of September, when calendar summer is already gone but the sun still gladdened people with last warm days.

It took you only a few days of bothering and fake accusation of not loving you to convince your husband Tom to finally take a day off from his job at ‘Borgin and Burkes’ and go have some fun together on a beach. He was grumpy and pouty for the first half an hour, but then seemed to accept his fate, indulging your little whims and wishes.

You didn’t manage to talk him into taking a swim together, no matter how hard you tried, but Tom did, eventually, took his shoes off and rolled up the cuffs of his trousers, standing ankles-deep into warm sea water, watching you dive and dork around in salty waves.

You were currently laying on your side on a soft picknick blanket facing Tom, left arm bent in elbow, head propped up on your hand, your eyes lazily wandering all over your husband’s side profile. He was laying on his back right next to you, arms thrown behind his head, nape resting on his palms.

Tom had changed. The juvenile plushness was long gone from his cheeks, instead leaving place for his sharp jawline and protuberant cheekbones. His hair was a slightest bit longer than it used to be during your school years, framing his pale face in dark silky waves. You noticed how he was nibbling on the inside of his bottom lip ever so slightly - a telltale sign that Tom was thinking intensely about something faraway. You fought the urge to trace the outline of his nose with gentle fingertips, knowing perfectly well how grouchy and whiny he’ll get at this action.

Your eyes wandered lower, taking in his outfit - even despite the scorching sun and high air temperature Tom refused to ditch his usual suit trousers and, this time, baby-blue shirt - instead opting to undo quite a few buttons, allowing a generous view on his pale chest.

A sudden idea visited your mind so you sat up from your semi-lying position, throwing one leg over Tom’s hips, settling yourself atop his pelvis comfortably. Your nimble fingers ran up his chest, caressing exposed areas of his skin with tender touches, all the way to his face, cradling it softly in your hands; you leaned down to scatter small kisses all over his cheeks, nose and lips.

- Y/n, what are you doing? - Tom chided you softly, the corners of his lips tugging up in slightest of smiles, even though it was pretty obvious that he was unpleased with you interrupting his thoughts.

- Trying to seduce you, - you replied stoically, not a hint of embarrassment nor unease could be heard in your purring voice.

- Right here? - Tom asked, you could hear his voice rising just a slightest bit, giving out his astonishment.

- Yeah, why not? - you said offhandedly, your lips stretching in a cheeky smile, gazing down at your husband mischievously.

- What if someone sees us? - Tom rose yet another question, cocking one of his perfect eyebrows at you.

You made a show of looking around the deserted beach, not spotting a single soul being around; not only this place was secluded by dangerously high cliffs, making it extremely hard for reaching, but also the fact that it was Wednesday - a middle of a working week - reduced chances of anyone being around to zero.

You brought your sight back to Tom, shrugging your shoulders theatrically:

- I can’t see nor hear anyone, Tommy. - one of your hands reached behind your back, gripping on the straps of your two-piece swimming suit, tugging on it slowly, un-doing the tight knot. You didn’t bother to untie the second knot on your neck, instead deciding to pull the bra off over your head, throwing it teasingly on top of your husband’s chest. - I think you’re just being a buzzkill that you are, Riddle.

You made an accent on the last word, watching Tom’s eyes wander to your now exposed tits, noticing your hardened from still unpleasantly damp fabric of your bra nipples. You cupped your breasts, pinching your nubs with thumbs and index fingers, all while slightly rocking your hips against Tom’s clothed groin, sighing erotically at the slight friction it created against your clit.

You repeated your movements a few more times, circling and swaying your hips so sensually, putting more pressure into your thrusts, increasing a pleasant feeling against both your sexes. You peeked down at Tom through your eyelashes, noting the way his chiseled jaw clenched, his dark eyes never leaving your perfect body.

You smiled widely at his hungry stare, leaning down to place a soft kiss on his chopped from salty sea wind lips - he kissed you back almost immediately. Tom’s hands came from under his nape, picking your bra from his chest and tossing it aside before coming to rest on your waist, thumbs pressing gentle circles into your heated skin.

His slim fingers wandered all over your body, eventually reaching your plushy thighs - rough fingertips glided up and down your skin, rising herds of goosebumps in their wake, stopping on your ass, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

You could feel Tom’s dick hardening at your simple manipulations, his bulge growing noticeably bigger in his pants, rubbing against your soft ass with every smallest move you made. You didn’t bother taking Tom’s trousers off, just undoing his zipper and pulling his semi-hard dick out of his underwear. You wrapped your fingers around his shaft, pumping it slowly a few times, your eyes never breaking an eye contact.

You straightened up, standing on your knees; you struggled quite a bit while taking off your bottoms, since this position wasn’t the most comfortable. You heard Tom muttering quiet ‘oh god’ under his breath in feigned annoyance, obviously teasing you, for which you lightly smacked him on the chest.

Once done and completely naked you slightly scooted forward so that your awaiting pussy was hovering right above Tom’s heavy cock. You gave him a few more jerks before leading it to your slicked folds, sliding them along his throbbing shaft, properly slicking him up with your juices. After a few more moments you aligned his swollen tip with your pulsing entrance, lowering your hips slowly, gently sinking onto his length. A satisfied sigh left both of you once Tom was fully buried inside of your quivering warmth, your ass pressed tightly against his thighs.

His broad hands came to rest on the swell of your hips, molding and playing with soft flesh in between his long fingers. You let out a small whimper as you could feel Tom’s cock stuffing you full, his tip was pressed against your cervix so deliciously, all along with a pleasant stretch on your plushy walls.

You rose your hips carefully, still adjusting to your current position, sliding off half of his length, and sank back down onto his cock, providing such desired friction. You watched his adam’s apple bob as Tom swallowed heavily, and you repeated your actions a few more times, until you found a comfortable rhythm, impaling yourself over and over again on his steady cock.

Your hands came to rest on Tom’s chest, supporting yourself against his body, back arching at the pleasant feeling of his dick grazing all the right spots inside of your throbbing pussy. Soft moans spilled out of your lips as one of Tom’s hands went down to play with your clit, skillfully circling and massaging swollen nub with the tips of his fingers. Your head lolled back, a loud cry of your husband’s name rolled off your tongue as you quickened the pace of your thrusts, rocking against him so passionately.

Tom rested one hand on your nape, putting a bit of pressure into his touch, indicating for you to lean down. You did so, lowering your torso until your chest was pressed flush against his; your lips found his in a matter of moments, connecting in a fervid kiss, his tongue slithering into your mouth, making you gasp in surprise.

Your loud moan was swallowed by Tom’s greedy mouth as he unexpectedly thrusted his hips up into your perfect squelching pussy from underneath; his free hand was gripping onto your waist tightly, fixating you into this position. You broke your kiss, burying your flushed face into the crook of his neck as his hips picked up a quick pace, fucking your pussy raw with his throbbing cock.

- Yeah? You like that, you little minx? - Tom rasped into your ear, his lips brushed against your ear shell, making you tremble slightly. You nodded your head ‘yes’ fervently, leaving open-mouthed kisses all over the side of his neck.

- I love it so much, Tommy. Please, don’t stop, please, please, - you babbled out incoherently, your mind hazed and barely working from intense pleasure rolling through your body in waves.

Tom slid his hand from your nape and along your spine, all the way down to your jiggly ass, especially relishing to grab and mold your pliable flesh with his fingers. The hard, smooth strokes of his cock inside your slicked pussy caused ecstasy to well up inside you, your body prickling, almost painfully, in foretaste of a nearing orgasm.

Your hands grabbed on Tom’s biceps, you could feel his muscles flexing underneath your touch. You bit down onto his shoulder, eliciting a quiet hiss from the man underneath you, knowing how much he disliked when you left hickeys in such obvious places. His hand left your waist to slide in between your pressed bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles onto it, bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

- Tom, ‘m gonna cum, ‘m gonna cum, please don’t stop, - you mumbled into his skin, hot and bothered, and you felt him nod at your words, his hips picking up faster pace, snapping loudly against your pliant body.

White stars hit your vision, as you felt your orgasm rippling through your trembling form, setting every nerve in your body on fire in intense pleasure. You didn’t register all the moans and pleadings slipping past your lips as you babbled in your euphoria, your quivering pussy along with dirty words only brought Tom closer to his own release.

Tom followed you soon enough, cumming with a groan and a low moan of your name, dumping his thick load deep inside of you. You laid rigid atop him, both of you trying to catch your breaths, listening to the soft whisper of wind and sea. Surprisingly, Tom was the one who broke the comfortable silence:

- A few more moments and I’d go deaf on one ear, - Tom commented and you didn’t understand what he was talking about. It took you a few moments to realize that all this time you were moaning and screaming uncontrollably mere centimeters away from his ear, surely causing a lot of discomfort, especially knowing how sensitive man was to any sort of noises.

You chuckle airily, muttering quiet ‘sorry, darling’ under your breath, your hand going up to comb your fingers through his silky, now knotted, hair, massaging his scalp lovingly.

Dragging Tom all the way here was definitely a good decision.

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Feedback is basically the only thing that keeps writers creating new content

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silver-wield · 4 months ago

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hey I don't know if i posted this here or to my friend but uh, i want to talk about what "interrupted by fireworks" mean.

So this ost shows up in three sections of OG. Gsd where it fits with tifa, uematsu confirmed this. In mideel and the Rancid cait sith premonition to aerith.

At first you'd wonder if it's an ost for a "romantic" atmosphere. But is it really? That's what some think. But look, rebirth has deleted that ost why?

Because i think the song isn't meant to be "romantic" at all. It's a sign of distress and worry. Could be in Tifa's pov or Cloud's pov, or maybe both?

In her gsd, tifa has trouble telling what she meant. Cloud has a need to know what she wanted to say. Didn't get there with their conversation.

In mideel, tifa sees cloud dying. Cloud is unable to be with Tifa especially now. Is this the end of them?

In the cait sith bullshit, tifa.. is not gonna be with cloud?(I know she wasn't there but we know the song is representative of tifa and we know she's in love with cloud, is this an indirect rejection? Of course we know it's bullocks but at this moment, we look at it). And to cloud, has the same thing with tifa. If he not meant for tifa? I recall he doesn't say anything here but Nor is he happy because he's not. This Isn't what he wants. Never what he wants.

Rather than romantic, it's like a segway, an insight to distress. Even the title is distressing haha.

But now it's gone? Why? Because unlike OG, there have been little to Zero times where tifa sees a distress within their relationship. Gsd, they confirm eachother. Maybe in part 3 she'll get in a distance from him because that's not the soldier cloud we know. I just hope whatever it is that they don't feed crackshippers anymore bullshit to feed their Delusions. I know tifa worries in an ultimania about his bond to aerith. Needless detail and out of context (because she's just being paranoid, questioning everything, until she sees he's just there to ask for forgiveness and is dying. Things she didn't know prior but I wish she could have trusted him better. Again Useless detail, Never in the film Nor novels). But we sure as heck the ones who heard him call her Nakama and Mother 😂. Tifa dear Wake up.

Anyway. That's all. Still can't believe some think the caith sith thing in OG is "romantic" like seriously? After knowing she dies and it's a lie? They think it's not that and it's just "tragic what could been"? They clearly don't understand how premonitions work right? If it didn't happen, then it will never happen. Exactly as tifa's premonition was awful but look at them they're together smiling. Then AC ruins that and made Delusional people think cait sith is "correct" (nvm how Shit he is at this like yo gurl DIED). because they didn't make it clear that he's been Super Happy after the events of FF7. But seriously, these people have difficulty letting go of their preconceived Delusional HC. Goddamn shippers🤦.

Uhhh actually Nobuo explained a lot of times they reused or even used tracks in og for segments of the game the track wasn't intended for. Like he was surprised aerith's theme played at the forgotten city because he only wrote it for the flashback at the train station to show the similarity between her and Elmyra both waiting for a loved one.

Also there was a lotta hands in the pot for og, most notably toriyama, who liked to fuck things up behind Nojima's back. His involvement was heavy handed af for disc one until aerith died, when he took a back seat. He was and still is salty af his fave isn't the love interest.

The temple bullshit was his idea, which is why it doesn't exist in rebirth. The canon relationship is the work of nomura and nojima and the people who weren't out to ruin their own work.

#final fantasy 7 remake #ff7r #ffviir #final fantasy 7r #final fantasy viir

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yandere-to-express · 1 year ago

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The wrong cranium

Gender neutral

Part 3

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“Just put them wherever you want. I don’t have a system in place; so long as I can find them, it doesn’t concern me.”

“Got it.” Pasta, whole-grains, spices, and sealed condiments go into the pantry. Eggs, milk, vegetables, and other perishables belong to the fridge. You enjoy this kind of work: making categories, sorting items, organizing them. It demands control. You work with single-minded focus long enough to forget what had discomfited you in the first place, but once the last package is out of your hands, it comes back with full vengeance.

“I’m finished,” you say to Peter, who’s been hovering around the stove for a while now.

He flinches and looks up at you. “Already? Alright, let’s start making dinner. Anything you want, sunshine?”

The nickname really doesn’t reflect how you feel right now, but seeing his nervous, bashful face makes you think it suits him very well. Your mood lightens a little and you reply, “Anything is fine.”

“Really? Anything? You’re really pushing my creativity to its limits— come on, give me something to work with! Sweet? Salty? Savory? Don’t worry about the effort, I already said we can make it together. And if we don’t have the ingredients, well, there’s always improvisation.”

You have no idea. You eat a wide variety of foods, and the dishes themselves aren’t difficult, but having a stranger cook for you is… oddly embarrassing.

“Pasta?” you suggest, scratching your neck. “Just, without onions if possible? Or olives?”

Peter grins radiantly, jumping into motion. “There we go! Now, could you please get the ingredients while I take the pots out?”

The two of you start making dinner. It’s spaghetti, but the kind that has eggs in its dough. You put the herbs and aromatics you want beside the cutting board and watch Peter chop his way through an army of tomatoes, your gaze riveted on his swift fingers. They’re long and thin, but strong, their flesh flexing along the elegant phalanges, carpals intertwined with blue veins. You watch the joints snake beneath the skin as the knife rises and falls.

“So,” Peter breaks the silence.

Your head snaps up, eyes wide.

“You like Italian?” He’s got a smug smirk on his face, which means he definitely saw. “Can’t say I love it, but I’ve got a special place in my heart for pesto sauce. It saved me from starvation time and time again.”

“I don’t know. I guess I like some of it? Maybe Fettuccine Alfredo, I’ve had that before. But other than fast food pizza, I can't say I’m an expert.”

“A shame. Maybe we can grab a bite sometime? It might be fun!”

Your mind stutters in its tracks. Is this a date offer? Who am I kidding, you think. It’s Peter. Of course it’s a date.

You didn’t know whether you wanted to go or not. On one hand, it was Peter, and you were supposed to be wary of his intentions. On the other hand, it was a date. You wanted to go. He was patient, kind (for now), and there was a zero percent chance of you getting an opportunity like this— this being someone, anyone, asking you out. So what if it's your devoted stalker? You’d just died. You deserved to have the things you wanted, didn’t you?

One item in that category just happened to be this guy. Let’s hope this didn’t go south.

“Or not?” he said. He’d turned toward you, his smile slightly flat. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be Italian? We could get something else instead! There are lots of cuisines, and so many restaurants in the city, I’m sure we could stumble on a good one by chance—”

“No, no, I’m down, we can go,” you interrupt, tentatively putting your hand on his upper arm. “We can do Italian if you want, but maybe we should check the pasta first.”

He blinks like a cat, looking at the contact point. “Pasta? Why—” His eyes widen, and he spins around to see the pasta pot almost boiling over. “Oh shit! Fuck, fuck—”

It takes two minutes to calm down his apology ramble, with you repeating again and again that no, forgetting pasta on the stove does not make him a failure of a cook, but it does make him a clumsy one. You hope he won’t fall apart at the slightest mistake next time, but since this is technically your “first date”, you suppose that he deserves some leniency. He’s never met you face to face after all, and he’s been admiring you for a long time. Anyone would be anxious.

And besides, seeing him so flustered is giving you flutters in the belly. You’ve always liked bubbly, nervous people better, feeling calmer and more confident around them as if to balance out their shyness.

“I was wondering though,” you started while putting the plates. “I never learnt your name. What’s it?”

And of course, it agitates him. “Ah… You know what, I don’t like my name all that much. You can call me whatever.”

“Okay, Whatever,” you shoot back, giggling at his world-weary expression.

“You know what I meant! Ugh, I guess it’s better to just get this over with: it’s… Peter.”

“Peter?” You relish finally being able to say it. “That sounds pretty normal. I thought it would be something like Dick or Jormungandr.”

“Jormungandr?” he repeats, flummoxed. “Why would— no, well, it might not be as bad as Dick, but there were still lots of people that made fun of Peter the same way they made fun of that. Which made high school even worse.”

You don’t have a suitable response for that, so instead of ‘That’s rough buddy,’ you say, “Oof. Come on, let’s have pasta.”

He sits right beside you at the table, no hesitation. You’re taken aback, but not enough to deliberately move the seat around and disappoint him. You take your seat at his side, realizing late that the pot of pasta is on his side of the table.

“Let me,” you chime, moving to get the fork and divide the portions, but he catches you by the wrist, his thumb digging under your pulse, into the divot beneath your palm.

“No,” he inserts himself smoothly, taking the utensils. “Let me handle it, darling.”

Your heart rate picks up. He’s sure to feel it, with his hand covering your entire wrist, and you’re certain that the tick at the corner of his lips is another smug little grin, concealed poorly. You’d love to lie and think, this is so demeaning, but you like it. The physical contact. The pulse of blood under his hold, and how little skin there is between them. And when he gives you your portion— scooping a very generous helping— not many have treated you like this. Indulgently. You like that he’s spoiling you, and that he won’t let go of your arm. It makes the logistics of serving spaghetti a little messy, but he doesn’t seem to care about it so long as he can hold your hand.

“Enjoy the meal,” he says, giving you one of the happiest smiles you’ve ever received. Then he gives you a fork, twines his fingers with yours, and starts gobbling up the food.

You stare at him, then at your interlocked fingers, your nearly brushing palms, and stare at him again. You’re sure he’s right-handed. The fork is held awkwardly in his left hand, but the pasta is somehow reaching the target without any incident. And still, even when the fork wobbles in his hold, he doesn’t let go of you.

You avert your eyes and start to eat. You’re not going to get attached because of fucking spaghetti. (Maybe the way to the heart is really through the stomach. Just, in a very different way than you expected.)

After washing the dishes (Peter having put up a valiant fight to take over the task, until you put your foot down), he leaves you alone while you get ready in the bathroom. He tells you where the spare toothbrushes are and asks that you choose whichever suits your fancy. Indeed, he has a large selection of toothbrushes of many types: soft and hard bristles, small and big heads, regular and vibrating, and in several colors. You aren't sure whether he's bought all these just for you, but for your own sake, you decide to ignore that thought.

In the end, you just choose one at random and go through it as quickly as you can. You don't imagine what's going to happen to the brush after you leave. You don't imagine why Peter was so enthused about it.

Well. You try. Unsuccessfully. Your head conjures the images without delay. You remember that his tongue is long and sensitive, and that the brush you've chosen is one with harsh, coarse bristles. You imagine his expression if he ever scrapes it over his tongue. How would he feel? Would he press it to his gums, swipe it across his palate? Would he search for the remnants of your saliva? You think so. It doesn't arouse you, not really, but it makes you feel a spark along your skin. Like an electric shock. (He'd be ecstatic. The thought is hard to get rid of, but you manage.)

In any case, you won't be there. This doesn't concern you. You spit the toothpaste out and clean the brush, leaving the bathroom. The moment you do, you're faced with Peter looming over you, manic attention etched into his gaze, like the prick of a needle. He’s been waiting in front of your door.

"All done?" he asks. His hands are hidden behind his back. But the tense way he holds his arms makes you think that he's trying to keep them behaved, rather than holding an emergency chloroform bottle. 

You nod.

"Great! Come on, I'll show you to the guest room."

He brings his left hand out, stretching behind your back and over your opposite arm. Steering you manually, he shows you to your bed, then insists on giving you sleepwear too.

"Well, it'd be extremely uncomfortable," he says when you show hesitation. "These are my sister's old clothes— since you're smaller, I thought they might fit you. Sorry, I don't have anything else."

"It's… fine, really. You've already done so much, I feel like an ingrate here."

"Of course not! If anything, I'm glad the clothes are getting some use. My sister doesn't visit anymore, so they're just, you know, rotting. In the closet. Ha ha, that makes me sound like a horrible host, giving you threadbare stuff. Let's forget the last part."

You hold up the clothes. They look rather small when compared to what you're wearing.

"Oh," Peter intones behind you. "It's smaller than I thought. Weird. I could have sworn…"

"It's fine! I'm sure it'll fit." You'd make do. It's not like you've never worn small sizes before. You move to slip it over your arms when you suddenly notice that he's definitely not looking away, and surprisingly, not even hiding his interest. 

You turn and look at him. He looks back at you, eyes glassy, saliva wetting his lips. It's a rather exposing feeling. 

"Um," you say, then trail off. How do you tell him to tone it down without revealing what you already know, and possibly scaring him off? 

The short answer is: you don't. Peter snaps out of his entranced state and bursts into awkward laughter, jumping off the bed and backing away to the door. 

"Sorry, my bad, totally spaced out there," he says. Opening the door with one hand, still facing you, he does a side-step behind and gets one last word in before disappearing, "Good night, sweet dreams!" 

The door closes. You thought maybe he'd lock you in, but there's no sound indicating that. Oh well. It was only the first day, after all. You shrug it off and get into the comfy pajamas, luxuriating in the sensation of the soft, feather-light fabric, like a cloud caressing your skin. The bed is equally comfortable as you settle in, sinking slightly from your weight. Now, the only thing left to do in the quiet, empty night, is turn off the lights. You reach out to the switch on the wall beside you, but freeze. 

Right. 

It's right there, beneath your hovering finger. You urge yourself on: Go on. Click the switch. Bury us in shadow. Your finger does not obey you, however, and it droops back to its place upon your abdomen, resting. The light bulb is annoyingly radiant above you. Your eyes, as they continue watching it, cultivate patches of darkness in your vision, as though your body was artificially creating that which you were so afraid of. With your sight so overwhelmed, your mind turns to other stimuli to smother it— a deep, ringing echo in your ears, passing back and forth inside your skull, and the previously heavenly sheets now feeling like slime along your skin. You rub your legs against each other, twisting them around bone and overheated flesh. It's a hot night, but you're not sweating, though sweating might have actually been helpful. At least then, you could have a clear solution. (You do not look at the switch. It's not important.) The night deepens outside the window, but neither your eyelids nor your paranoia drop.

It's not working, and you're awake. A glance at the digital clock on the nightstand tells you that it's two minutes until 1 AM, but with the way you're suffocating, you'd have thought it was already morning.

Restlessness drives you to sit up, look around. After a while, fear takes a backseat in favor of boredom, and you imagine Peter using this room. It's neater than you'd imagined. The furniture is pretty tasteful, if a little utilitarian, and there isn't even a mote of dust. Maybe Peter would sit in that chair and do paperwork, or maybe he'd lie on the bed and play games on his phone. You don't know. You never learnt what he liked besides the player character, and it's not making you feel better right now.

Your hand rises again (muscle memory and nostalgia pairs together, and you forget that you're not home, that you're not—) and touches the light switch, but terror kicks the brakes before you can do it. No. This is not home, this is not your world, and this is not you. You take your hand back and trap it under your thighs, tears welling up in your eyes.

Okay, you think, maybe I can't handle it.

The need for sleep is getting to you, so you stand up, leave the room, and make your way around the apartment, all the while turning on the lights. Sometimes a walk helps. You track your slipper-covered feet all over the hallway, the bathroom, the kitchen, and finally, you reach Peter's bedroom. When you finally stop to think, your hand is already on the doorknob.

He could be sleeping. But there's a just as likely possibility that he's doing weird stalker shit, and you don't want to break the illusion of normalcy yet. You're tired. You just need sleep, and you've realized you can't do it alone. (You hope he won't say no.) So instead of barging in— though your stalker might have enjoyed that— you knock three times.

There's a moment of quieter silence, like a disturbance in the air disappearing, and then you hear the sound of tangled sheets and falling footsteps, and there goes the door, revealing Peter with mussed hair and a hastily thrown-on shirt.

"Hi?" he says sweetly, breathless. "Um, ha ha, this is— a surprise. Did you need something? I heard you moving around—"

Was he watching?

You wonder if he has cameras around. Why would he though, in his own house? Something about that fact is niggling you, but you can't see why. You decide to ignore it.

"Sorry to bother you, I just… couldn't sleep." It feels trivial when you say it out loud, but you can’t back out now. "I’m probably disturbing but—"

"No! No, you’re not. I mean, you can definitely bother me. I could make tea? Or maybe a snack? Or…"

He pauses here, gaze flickering around, then settling back on you. "Or," he continues, "I could introduce you to Rat? If you need a distraction."

You stare at him, not understanding, then remember: Rat's his snake. His pet snake. It lightens your mood a bit because you've never seen a live snake before. Your feelings are pretty mixed; some part of you is afraid of getting bit, some part of you is insanely excited, but most of all, it gives you an excuse to talk to Peter.

You answer, "I'd love to. May I come in?"

"Of course! Feel free to, it's really no problem. You can go anywhere in the house, there's no room off-limits."

He turns on the light, hurries you in and closes the door. But this time, as the small yet distinct sound of a lock registers in your senses, the hairs behind your neck stiffen.

He's locked you in. You search for a window, but to your unease, there's none. You've walked right into an exit-less room, of your own free will if not your own stupid desperation.

"Sorry for the mess," Peter says. His desk is riddled with papers and random gadgets, and there's a spot at the corner that houses a heap of unwashed laundry. The smell isn't that bad though— just musky, like warm skin. And obviously, the bed is looking like a storm wrecked it up.

You think about him tossing and turning, chasing a slumber that won't come. Warmth dances along your rib cage.

While you're there, distracted, Peter nears the desk and gets the snake out of its tank. "Hey, sweetie," he's whispering, and you turn to watch him handle the animal. He's looking at it like he's holding a baby, like it's both precious and frustratingly weak, but the way he's carrying it makes you think he could be doing this for hours and still not get pissed.

He gestures you closer. "Come here, let her smell you. Gimme your hand—"

You extend your hand and he takes it, bringing it closer to the snake's head. You're entirely fascinated as Rat nuzzles your fingers, sluggishly nudging your knuckle, but the rest of your attention is on Peter's grip around the base of your palm. His fist has enveloped your whole wrist, and his fingers are twining up, touching the sensitive crevices of your inner hand. You feel his breath fan over your cheekbone, and the click of his swallow.

Rat goes back to rest soon after, and then there's no more need to hold your hand, but Peter keeps it aloft, palm to palm. Is holy palmers' kiss, you recall. Shakespeare, or something. You're way too occupied by the touching to ponder on it. As if that wasn't enough, Peter's thumb makes its descent down your ulna, tracing the outside of your arm until it comes to a stop, enveloping your elbow.

"Something on your mind?"

Can you tell him?

You avoid his gaze, but you can feel that it softens.

"Let's sit," he suggests, "Your legs will get tired." He guides you to the bed, sitting down beside you at the edge. Rat tightens her coil around his forearm but doesn't awake.

Interested despite the situation, you take the opportunity to brush your fingertip down her back. It's a smooth and pebbled sensation, the scales warm and alive under your hands. Seeing your enthusiasm, Peter demonstrates how to pet her without bothering, and soon enough, your hands end up tangled upon the snake, giving warmth to the same patch of scales.

You like the thought of him having her. There were so many opinions on him on the Internet, canon and fanon, but somehow they all seemed... shallow, egocentric or unnecessarily dark to you. You enjoyed consuming fan-works that depicted him as a person, someone with wants and emotions of their own un-enforced by a script. Someone you could love back.

And as you sit here, cradling the sleeping snake between you two, you start to think that it might come true some day. You watch his hands, unable to look away, just like you did all day. They're gorgeous. The long, lithe shape of them, the strange dichotomy of their fragility and strength, and the way their skin glows with life. To hell with holy palmers' kiss— You want to take them between your palms and rain kisses all over them. You'd press your lips on the back, look up at Peter's flushed face, and continue along the trail until…

You sneak a glance, finding him already watching. He's holding a calm, content smile on his face, as though he was— as though he could—

"What kind is she?" you ask, your pulse thundering.

"Eastern hognose. You can tell by the color— Southern hognose snakes aren't ever black. Additionally, since Rat's female, she's bigger than a male— it was a pain to find a big enough tank for her, but I was lucky it worked out—"

You're buried under a whole slew of snake facts, eating habits, and a photo album of Rat booping the camera. However, just as you're getting really into a video of Rat digging into sand, Peter tenses up beside you.

Immediately after you notice, he forcibly relaxes, laughing it off. "I'm talking a lot, aren't I? Sorry about that, just tell me to shut up whenever. You've gotta have a lot on your mind, right? I'll be quiet now."

"No, it's okay! I like it. You really love Rat, it's nice to see."

"Ha ha, you think so?" He avoids your gaze. "Let's— um— you sure I can't help with whatever's bothering you?"

Your mouth opens to say no, but he continues, "And not just that, but what happened in the park too. I know that kind of feeling, and I've struggled with it before, so maybe… I thought, we could work on it?" You hear his swallow. "Together?"

Together. It's a foreign thought. You're never 'together'. You have friends, you have family, but it never seems to matter when you're in the clutches of fear. You trace the line of your life, fast forward it in time, and when that black, unresponsive screen faces you, it's never about who you surround yourself with.

Then again, you've never tried this before. Sharing this feeling with someone.

You rest your hand on Rat's tail, and let your body tip to Peter's side, your temple bumping into his shoulder. He flinches at the contact.

"Imagine this," you say. "You're out of time. Out of time— the world slides past you in the blink of an eye, and everything that made you, you, dissolves into nothing. And now, there isn't anything— nothing but you and emptiness exists. Endless, infinite space, and it's bigger, older, and darker than you could ever imagine. And you're... nothing. Try, for a moment."

Peter doesn't seem to understand where you're going with this, but his arm rises to embrace you one-sidedly, laying his head on yours with a deep sigh.

"I'm imagining it," he says. His voice is tremulous, and it makes your heart melt.

"It's not cold, not hot. No light, no texture, no sound. There's nothing there aside from you."

His hand squeezes your shoulder. "It's lonely."

Your throat closes up. Not yet. You exhale the difficulty out, and continue, "Try to hold onto that for more than a moment. A few seconds."

He presses his face into your hair, his fingers biting bruises into your skin. You know he's doing it, and his earnest effort is visible. Audible. You can hear his swallow, the blood rushing in his veins.

"I can't," he admits. "Sorry."

"It's fine. I can't either." You continue to pet Rat, but she twitches awake and looks at you. "Oops. Sorry, baby."

"Let me put her back," Peter says, rising. He smoothly retrieves and deposits her back into the heated tank, waiting a little to watch her burrow into sand.

His side on the bed is already cold. You resist the urge to lie down on the remnant heat, reminding yourself again and again that it's rude, that it's not what people do when they're guests.

You're startled out of your thoughts by Peter's footsteps. He stops in front of you and kneels on one knee, his face angled upwards.

For a moment, your brain is full of static, and then a completely unhinged thought slaps you flat: Is it already sex time?

You mentally slap yourself back to sanity. Peter's not getting between your legs, he's getting on his legs. You're having an emotionally charged conversation, and for God's sake, you are not going to have sex with someone you just met. Perverted stalker behavior? That's fine. You can shut your eyes and pretend you can't see. But this requires active participation and you're not ready for that.

Abrupt interlude aside, you watch as he puts his hand— singular hand— on your knee, gently pressing his thumb into the grooves on the joint. His face is somber as he speaks.

“I’ve never…” He pushes the words out. “Had hope. I couldn’t afford to. I mean, why go to all that effort when it won’t even help?”

He tries to give you a smile, but you can tell he’s not feeling it. “So for a long time, I just sort of drifted. It was like I was waiting to die, you know? And it… was fine. I didn’t really care. I didn’t have anything I wanted out of life, so why bother, right?”

This is making your heart hurt, because you can’t say anything in return. No comfort, no advice, no consolation. You don’t think he’s looking for it either, but—

You don't dare touch him back, but you lean forward, supporting your torso with your elbows on your thighs. You avoid looking at him in the eye though, even with his face so close. Instead, your gaze falls on the floorboards.

“It doesn’t sound like you have given up,” he says. His hand descends and takes yours, as though they were the poles of a magnet, coming together. “When you described it, you weren’t thinking like— like someone dead. You sounded like someone looking for a way out.”

Are you? Is there a way out of this? How do you come back from being—

—deleted?

A total system reboot cannot make exceptions for singular items in its universe. The code is wiped clean and the existing structure is returned to factory settings. But even after erasure, isn’t the emptiness of the system a constant and an anchor by itself? The beginning equals the en̸d̶i̵n̸g̷, the̶ ̸d̶a̷r̴k̴n̷ess follows light, and the̷ ̴d̷a̸r̵k̵n̴e̴s̴s̸ ̵i̵s̵ ̵t̴h̸e̷ ̸w̸o̸m̷b̶ ̵a̶n̷d̴ ̷t̶h̶e̵ ̵c̸h̸r̶y̸s̴a̸l̶i̴s̷ ̴i̷n̸ ̸w̸h̴ic̴̖͕̓h̶̤̥̅ ̴̬͒t̶̠̦͆̑h̸̭̣͝ȩ̵̝̿m̴̖͌̚a̴̘͖̾ẗ̸̬́t̴̙͒t̸̨̆ę̵̑̒ř̴̳b̵̖̗̽̿ẹ̵͎̈́c̴͖̏͝o̷̤͍͗m̸̭̈̀e̸̯͇͒̂s̶̺͙͑a̸̭͛̀n̴͎̈́̌d̴̲̀̽ͅt̷̞̂h̷͚̊̅ḙ̷͝ ̴̛̦m̷̞̒̌ ̴̨̍ẩ̸̦ ̴̱́t̸̟̩́͝ ̵̺̥͛t̷̡̏ ̴̭̲̋e̵̫̹͌ ̴̭͖̿r̴͖͇̔ ̴̠͆t̷͕̾͝h̸͖̔a̵̝̲͐͋͌͗́t̴̛̙̫̹͆͛̓̏ ̶̥̠̳̺̒͌d̷̰̬͖̘͆̄͋̏͠ͅ ̸̤̌̄̅̀ô̸͓̕̚ ̴̨̮̫̣͉͂͒̒̽̀e̶̞͙̝̰̽̌͠ͅ ̵̨̦͇̎͛́̕̕s̸͉̪͉̹̎̐̃͘̕ ̵̢̡̆n̶̡̈́’̷̳̦̟̂̌̊̍̈͜ ̶̛̣͙̀͂͝ṫ̸̩̣͇̹͚ ̴̞̬͙̺̻̄̈̂́l̷̨̠̝͕̊̅̕̕į̸̋v̷̟͉̱̀̊̏͝e̶̝̿̿̚͝ơ̸̩̝͓͚̱̋n̴̠̺͚̽͒̋͐̌i̸͎͔͌n̵̮͋͑̏͠t̵̢̟̯̲̀͊ḣ̷͚̞͚̪̊ē̶̺̒̍̌l̴̢̳͑̇͋́i̵̟̦͍̍̓̈́͗̕ģ̷̗̯͉̯̂͘h̴̻̑͑ť̶͕̉b̴̢̘͍̜͚̍̎̃̾͘ẹ̸̩̝͙̮̿͆c̴͚͔̜̣͔̀̐͒͆͝o̵̘̮͑̑͋̎͗́́̏͒̆͛̀͛̃̈́̄̋̽̚͜m̴͈̦̟̺̟̄͝ę̵̘͖͈̣́̈͒̋̃͘͝s̶̡͉̟͇̬̬̖̝̙̥͕͇̤̉́͂̒̌̈́̕͜t̵̢̪͙̣͚͎̩̦̲̳̹̜͉̲̥͌̅̍̈́͊̿̀͌̓̄͘̚͝h̵̘̖͎̞̲̘̮̝̼̲̻̟͓̪̩̏̔͜ͅấ̴̩̝̲̮̇̑͋̆͌̕͠͠t̸̡͍̼͙̅̐͛͆̌̒́w̴̠̗̰̒̈h̶̯͍̯̣̓̋̈́̾̍̋͛͆͂̑͌͂̇͗̓̿̈́̚i̸̼͎͆͐̈́͊̓̈̆̑̓͠c̶̡̙̘͈͚͙̬̝͇̔̇̑̈́͗͆͌̌̏͌̐̊͒́̾͆̅͜͝h̵͙͈̀̍͠s̴̢̛̞̻͈͉̪̤̈́̈̇́́͛̓̈̋͐̍͊̚͘̕ù̸͒͂͋̎͗��̢͓͕͙̣͖̩̫͖̠̿̿r̸̨͎̲͚̖̤̞̋̋̎̅̈́̔̓͋̅̏͆͘͝v̶̨̪̱̜͎̉͗͒͊̊̉̊̀͒͠į̵͎͕̠̬̰̯̋̊͌͊̍̅̀̏͂̂̇́̄͆̕̚ͅv̵̤̮͆̈̀̉͝e̸̡̨̡̧̪̠͇̱̳̙̗̬̬̯͎̼͒͒͗̀̌̂͗̃̌̔̉̀̍̓̕͜͠s̸̛̰̟̥̪͎̞̩͑̽—̶̨̡̢̹̹̰̜̞͙̻͌̇̏̔̆̊̽̏͂͝͠

Y̸̟̱̜̭̼̝͛͂͒O̸͓͓͑̈́͜͝U̴͍͇̠̦̜̦̐̎͛͑̂̊̃̾͝͝—

̸̫͗͂͐̂̏͗

c̸a̵n̵ ̸y̷o̶u̵ ̸h̴e̶a̴r̵ ̷t̸h̷e̴ ̴s̵o̷u̶n̷d̶?̷

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You realize you’re awake, still. Peter is kneeling in front of you, staring with wide eyes and parted lips. You don’t know what just happened, but there’s a strange relief in your heart. The fear has been lifted, and in its place is affection. A sense of sincere gratitude.

“I,” you rasp, voicebox worn, “need sleep.”

That moment, you both become aware of your position, the way you’re face to face with lips mere inches apart. Peter springs backwards, limbs animated as he stammers his apologies, but you’re unable to listen. Sleep is beckoning you like a siren to the seabed. You feel yourself swaying in time to a melody you can’t hear and can’t articulate, but you have enough willpower to keep your eyes open, watching your stalker get a futon and a spare pillow out of a wardrobe.

“You can take the bed, darling,” he’s saying, “I’ll sleep right here, right beside you. You don’t need to worry about anything. If— If you get scared, you can peer over and see me, right? So you know you’re— that you’re not alone. I’ll be there.”

He finishes with the floor bed and comes back, manually lowering your unresponsive body onto the mattress. It’s not as soft as the one in the guest room, but it smells like Peter and your spine stretches with soft micro-clicks, relieving an ache in your back that you hadn’t even noticed. You look at him dopily as he pulls up a light blanket over you, rubbing it flat around your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you tell him.

His eyes snap up to yours, wide and perfect blue, and avoid again. He doesn’t reply, but you’re tired, so you don’t care. Peter leaves your side and you hear his voice again, quiet.

“Good night.”

The light switches off.

Your breathing speeds up, but there’s no foreign presence inside you. Instead, it’s familiarity that crawls down your rib cage, filling out your empty spaces, cocooned inside your warm flesh. Your body temperature cools down, and slowly, sleep claims you as its own.

Morning welcomes you late. You slept in and ended up waking around ten, burr around your eyes. After washing your face, you go to the kitchen and find Peter in the middle of a battle with the ready pancake mix.

“You’re awake!” he exclaims. Gesturing to the mess on the counter, “Sorry, looks like I’m only good for chopping and boiling. It tastes okay though! It’s edible. I think.”

You start laughing and can’t stop, devolving into giggles and snorts. You end up taking over batter duty and Peter flips the pancakes instead. He’s good at determining exactly when they’re browned, something you still aren’t very proficient in, so you make a good team and soon enough, you have a batch of pancakes ready. Just as he said, they taste perfectly sweet and have the consistency of fluffy bread.

“I think I should take cooking lessons,” Peter says, wilted in defeat.

“You’re fine. Pancakes and crepes are difficult. The pasta went much better.”

He whines about it some more, but you’re enjoying it. You shove a few more bites in your mouth in spite of your full stomach, exaggerating your chewing, and it seems to make him happier.

While you’re finishing up, you find your phone and check your messages, only to remember that Y/N works at a diner and that you weren’t there today. There are seven messages from TK asking about your whereabouts, and three from Lucy asking where you were, dated midnight.

“Everything alright?” Peter asks.

“Yeah, it’s okay. It’s just…” You read the ones from TK first. They start off with simple reminders, then they become harried ‘are you OK?’s and move on to ‘I’ll cover for you THIS TIME’. And then—

‘Boss says you’re fired if you aren’t here by noon COME ON’

You push the phone in your back pocket and start zipping your bag up, lightning fast. Peter is hovering behind you— you can feel it— but there’s really, really no time to waste. You don’t wanna risk being unemployed when you don’t know what the job market is like, and there’s a bit of a fear inside you that not being a waiter might fuck up the narrative, if there’s any.

“I could drive you if you’re in a hurry,” Peter offers.

You spin around to face him. “Really?”

“Yeah! I mean, you’re gonna take the bus, right? We’ll be there faster with me.”

“Thank you! So much!” You’re tempted to kiss his cheek, but you hold it in and do a very brief hug instead. He’s at least ten inches taller than you, so you end up hugging his chest, but it checks out.

You hurry him up while he gets his keys. Just like in the game, his vehicle is a big white van that looks handmade for kidnapping, but you push that thought to the very back of your mind and shimmy into the seat with nervous energy. As Peter starts the engine, you begin wondering if you are even capable of working at Dad’s Damn Diner. Y/N was used to it because they’d been doing it for a while, but you aren’t, and what if you get fired anyway? And then you’ll end up looking for a job anyway.

Peter must have seen your somber face because he says, “Don’t be too intimidated. You’ve been working for a long time, they’ll forgive one late day. They’d be stupid to let go of you.”

You’re about to thank him when you remember that no, you haven’t told him your destination actually, and additionally, you haven’t told him about your work either. You refrain from sighing and slapping your forehead. But what if I was perceptive and didn’t like you, Peter? What then? You can’t afford to be careless with the information you’re NOT supposed to know!

“Thanks,” you say instead, dryly. “I don’t know, I think there are a lot of people who would work harder for less pay. I can’t slack off if I wanna keep my job.”

“At a decent place? Sure, workers for cheap wages are dime a dozen. At this shithole? Not really. Like I said, they’d have to be stupid.”

Fine. You lean your head onto the headrest. Surprisingly, it’s the perfect height to support your neck. You siphon some good feelings from that and spend the rest of the ride with your eyes closed, resting your mind.

Soon though, you’ve arrived. You unbuckle your seat and move to open the door when a hand stops yours in its grip. You glance back. Peter’s face is awfully close to yours, flustering you a little.

“Um.” You look at the car window instead. “Yeah?”

“You know, when I saw you at the park, I thought you were the most beautiful person I’d ever seen.”

You look back at him in shock. What? His cheeks are a little flushed, and his smile is lopsided. Your brain is chanting, What are you doing? What are you doing?!

“So,” he continues, his other hand traveling up your arm coyly. “I was wondering if I could take you out for dinner?”

Oh you just HAVE to say it like that, don’t you? “Technically… you already have.”

“I’m insatiable,” he admits unabashedly. “Both for food and for you.”

You bark a laugh. Alright, you gotta give it to him, that was smooth. Since you were already planning on it…

“Okay. I’ll bite.”

He perks up. “Really? I mean, good. I’m happy that you agreed! How about I come and pick you up at the end of your shift?”

“Do you even know when that is?”

“...I’m guessing it’s around four or so. And I’d come even if it was late. I don’t think you realize how much I want to go on this date.”

You’ve never felt so embarrassed before. It’s like every word he’s saying is dousing you in gasoline, and the heat you’re generating just from your face is crazy.

“Okay, fine, I accept. I surrender, whatever.” You push his face away with your open hand, making him grunt in surprise. “See you later?”

He smiles. “Yeah. See you later, darling.”

#your boyfriend game #peter dunbar #yb #yandere #yb peter #your boyfriend #ybf #tw: yandere #yb fandom #yandere games #yandere fanfic #yb game #peter yb #your boyfriend peter #your boyfriend fanfic #yb fanfic

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f1-birb · 2 years ago

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The thing that annoyed me most about whole “no longer fun” drama wasn’t George’s salty comment to media about growing up etc. It was that Lando’s comment was completely taken out of context in the first place.

He didn’t say it to make a dig at George in any way. He was talking about his own situation and how lucky he was that McLaren allowed him to be himself unlike some other teams. He used George & his move to Mercedes as an example, in that George pre-Mercedes was more fun but that Merc required the drivers to become more corporate & PR driven. He even stressed that it was down to the team. But of course media & fans ran with one small sentence out of context and dragged him through the mud for nothing. I don’t even know if George saw the original interview or if he only knows about the out-of-context sentence. Yes Lando probably should have just not used an example as it would have a saved himself a load of abuse but it was obvious in the interview that there was zero malice behind it.

It was interesting though that for all his bitchy response, George immediately started trying to be more “fun” on social media & in interviews so it obviously hit a nerve & he knew what Lando had said was true about how Merc was changing him.

As for the podcast, I think George was just making a sarcastic throwaway comment tbh. Like you say they always roast each other. He’s not an idiot, he knows Lando was about as likely to score a podium in the McLaren this year as he was himself in the Williams the year before. And he did go out of his way to praise Lando’s performance this year in that Sky interview after the presenters were mocking Lando a bit for the best of the rest thing. He didn’t have to do that, he clearly meant it.

This. All of this. George definitely only heard the out of context comment because he targeted golf specifically in his response, something Lando has been open about loving. (Except there are several other drivers (bestie Alex Albon for one) who have also been open about enjoying golf)

The PR63 meme became a meme for a reason, and I'm glad George has started being a little more fun again, even if it is a result of him feeling slighted by the comment. I'm seeing more of Williams George come back and I liked him a lot, and him and Lando in the two AD Sky interviews were brilliant together

At the end of the day they're mates. Are the besties? No, I don't think so, but there is clear, blatant, mutual respect there, Lando's always had high praise for George even when George was at Williams and I was really impressed by George interrupting the interview just to specifically praise Lando

#lando norris #george russell #anon you dropped this 👑#birb speaks

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can-i-make-image-descriptions · 2 months ago

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[Image ID: Reddit post on r/ DiscoElysium from u/beaMoon2016 tagged "Discussion" and titled: Never thought I'd read a story that so effectively captures why life in a broken system is worth living

Body text reads: I grew up in Iraq. When people hear this in the US, where I now live, they usually say: "Wow...that must have been hard."

I mean? I guess? I've been a couple hundred meters from ISIS bombings. The government is spectacularly dysfunctional. You never know when the electricity might be on. Most summer days are 50 C. The tap water is salty.

And I also love the wonky little generators people wire everywhere. I love the weird shark statue with Saddam torn off the top. I love the guys fishing in the river despite the fact that it's greenish black. I love how excited everyone gets about the government building one tiny new overpass. I also love the random overpass sitting in the dessert connected to zero roads. I love hearing our friends giggle as my dad ribs him for driving a Toyota Hilux, a favorite of terrorists transporting weapons. I love the stray cats that carefully pick their way over the barbed wire on our walls. I love the people that run towards a bombing instead of away because they want to help the survivors. I love the guy who fixed my glasses with a wrong-sized screw because he lived through sanctions and doesn't need dumb things like correctly-sized screws.

But it's almost impossible to explain this to most Americans. They picture a normal Iraqi life and think it would be their worst nightmare. So I'm used to just not sharing that part of my life, or ever seeing it in media.

So this game totally caught me off guard. We're in a setting in between apocalypses, starring an alcoholic fuckup from a corrupt occupier-aligned police force, who at best might keep a couple people from dying in a gang war. It's pretty bleak. It's also incredibly fucking joyful.

Just the prose alone is so sincere. You can't write stuff this goofy, flowery, beautiful, dumb, and moving ironically. The writers clearly love words far out of proportion to how much they might be able to actually change fundamentally broken systems.

And all the characters, the worldbuilding details, the interruptions from Shivers and Esprit de Corps, hell, all the bits and pieces of your brain. There's so much attention and thus so much love everywhere in this game for humans and what humans do. Doesn't matter if they might all get shot, blown up, or wiped clean by pale in a couple years. Doesn't matter if they brought it all on themselves. Right here, in this moment, they are human, and so they matter.

I feel like this game gets why my life in Iraq was worth living. Even if a lot of my fellow Americans think the world sure would be nicer and simpler if Iraqis just didn't exist.

I thought I had signed up for a fun 20-30 hour diversion, not the feeling of being loved?! /End ID]

an Iraqi gamer's beautiful review of Disco Elysium

#i made an image description

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koshercosplay · 2 years ago

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so over rosh hashanah I reread the entirety of the fellowship of the ring for like the millionth time? idk here are some highlights for anyone who either hasn't read the books in a while or hasn't read them at all:

- it is a LOT funnier than you think

- gandalf is throwing shade constantly

- like seriously, all the time

- legolas and gimli spend way too much time alone together away from the fellowship for unspecified reasons for there to not be something going on

- frodo is a book-smart intelligent adult with an impressive knowledge of middle earth history and can speak multiple languages but has precisely zero (0) street smarts

- tom bombadil is an immortal god who has elected to spend eternity completely ignoring the outside world in favor of doting on his beautiful wife in a secluded part of the forest while encouraging rumors of being terrifying so that nobody interrupts his doting-on-the-wife time. we stan.

- bilbo baggins is SO SALTY. he gives away a wastepaper basket to someone with the note "in memory of a long correspondence." he gives an empty bookcase to someone who never returned the books he borrowed. he gave his silver spoons to the person who kept stealing his cutlery. what an icon.

- gandalf and pippin spend the entire book pissing each other off

- at any given point, the hobbits are definitely thinking about food (same)

#there's more i could write but ill leave it at that for now #lol #god i love these books so much #tolkien #lotr #lord of the rings #the fellowship of the ring #bilbo baggins #frodo baggins #sam gamgee #merry and pippin #rosh hashanah

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1kook · 3 years ago

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ive been waiting for this one! *rubs hands* pls we need to see football player jk again 😩

Jungkook gets a concussion halfway into the season, and like every doting girlfriend, you’re at his side the moment they pull him off the pitch. “Heyyy, pretty lady,” he grins goofily, and your heart would flutter had he not been making googley eyes at his 240 pound teammate instead of you. “You free tonight?”

Anyway, his season ends there. It sucks, knowing how much Jungkook loves his sport, loves the game. But it’s for his own good, a fact everyone is aware of except probably him. “Listen,” he says, laying flat on his dorm bed. You’re on nursing duty, not that it’s required, but you’re paranoid that the slightest movement will cause him irreversible brain damage. A fact he’s apparently not concerned about. “You can be on top.”

You roll your eyes. “We’re not going to fuck with you still concussed,” you remind him for the nth time that day. “You can get hurt, babe.”

Jungkook groans. “We haven’t fucked in ages,” he complains, as if he’s in any condition to fuck anyway. And then in a tiny voice, “I miss you.”

It’s a little past noon, and the sun is shining. It’s beautiful outside, not that Jungkook would know. He’s been on bed rest for two weeks now, and with his doctor ordering for him to be careful around bright lights, his dorm is closer to a jail cell than it is to a bedroom. It sucks being confined, a statement he’s only shared about twenty times since this morning. You pop in between classes and visit every other night, but other than that, Jungkook has been bored out of his mind. It’s with all this mind, heart weighing heavy with sympathy, that you compromise. “I’ll suck your dick,” you offer, cringing at the whoop he lets out. “But!” He boos. “You can’t move.”

Jungkook crosses his heart. “Scout’s honor,” he promises solemnly, but he’s already begun wiggling his shorts down his thighs. His cock is already half hard, not that you’re surprised; he had wolf whistled the second you walked into the room, eyes zeroed in on your tiny denim shorts and exposed legs.

“I’m serious, Kook,” you warn, before eventually throwing all reservations inside and leaning over to take his cock in your mouth.

“Oh, baby,” Jungkook croons, his huge palm on the back of your head. He’s heavy on your tongue, his pre-cum a little bitter from all the Gatorade and salty chips he’s been scarfing down like crazy, quick tips on how to avoid dehydration from his doctor. Your tongue curves along the underside of his cock, molds to fit the shape until Jungkook is shivering like a leaf beneath you. “God—“

The sound morphs into a whine, one that makes your own nether regions tighten up. Your hand reaches up to hold the base of his cock, your tight grip compensating for the places your mouth can’t reach. It must feel good, not that you doubt your own skills, but Jungkook is damn near sobbing. You know it’s because he’s been deprived of any sexual contact from you these past few weeks, but it sure does give your ego a nice little boost. “Fuck,” he growls, hips bucking upwards, cock nudging against the soft spot towards the back of your throat. You gag, eyes watering. Don’t move, you want to tell him, but then he’s reaching for the back of your head with both hands and going to town, fucking your throat like you’re his favorite cum rag.

After a while, he busts in your mouth, flopping back down onto the mattress with a drawn out groan. After wiping your mouth, you turn your gaze up to glare at him. “Jungkook,” you scowl, “I told you not to—“

“Pass me the painkillers,” he interrupts, voice feathery. “‘M gonna die from nutting so hard.”

#jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jjkd #mine

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doingitforbokuto · 4 years ago

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Saw u were looking for sfw requests so I present to u: hq boys (& girls if u write for them) when their friend or s/o gets talked over? I like to think that I can speak for myself but I always end up getting drowned out in group settings asdfghjkl. Realizing now that this screams comfort request lmao

I absolutely hate it when that happens and I hope that things will get better for you!

haikyuu boys when you get talked over

-> ft. Bokuto, Hinata, Tsukki

-> BOKUTO KOUTAROU

I havde to admit that sometoímes he is he one who talks over you

sometimes he gets too excited and just can‘t hold himself back

but I am a firm believer that Bokuto is an emotionally intelligent person so he would most definitely notice if that made you uncomfortable or upset

I‘m not saying that he will never again talk over you but he will absolutely make an effort

whenever he notices that he did talk over you he will come back to you and ask about what you wanted to say

when he notices that someone else talks over you he will try and do the same

he does not really like calling people out because he knows how easily this kind of thing can happen and that they most likely did not mean any harm by it

unless he feels like they are actually doing it to make you uncomfortable

zero tolerance for that

will definitely call them out and make sure everyone hears what you had to say in the first place

Bo is a very supportive person and his number one priority is making sure that you are surrounded by people that make you happy :)

-> HINATA SHOUYOU

sometimes he doesn‘t notice that people talk over you because just like Bokuto he gets a little too excited sometimes and gets caught up in what the other person was saying

but that isn‘t always the case

he usually does notice and he does not like it at all

his reaction depends on how the other person talked over you and what you were talking about

if it was something that wasn‘t that important to you and if the other person just did without a bad intent he will just ask you what you wanted to say

Hinata isn‘t a big fan of fights among his friends

so he tries to keep everything nice and friendly

but when he notices that they did it on purpose he can get mad

and he doesn‘t hide that

Hinata doesn‘t make a big scene out of it though

it‘s most likely just “Hey! y/n wasn‘t finished talking when you interrupted them. What did you want to say?“

and that‘s it

but it is enough to send a very clear message to the other person: you have something to say and it is important enough for everyone to listen to it

-> TSUKISHIMA KEI

he is the one out of all three that is the most likely to make a scene out of it

which can be pretty counter productive

instead of giving you the opportunity to say what you wanted to it can sometimes end up in a prolonged argument or fight between him and the other person

Tsukki doesn‘t really know what else to do

salty comebacks are just what he does when he feels like someone is being mean to or making fun of him

so when someone does that to you it feels kind of like an instinct to do the same

but he does notice that it is not helpful

it just takes him some time to figure out what he should do instead

he usually opts for using his height to look down at others while making a remark about how they apparently never learned how to be quiet and listen to other people before looking back at you - your cue to repeat what you were saying

it doesn‘t always work but he tries

although he is pretty bad at talking about feelings - his own and the other peoples‘ - he does try for you

usually when you two are alone

he‘ll let you know how annyoing he thought the other person was and will pick up on what you were taking about so you can have your opportunity to say what you wanted to

but he knows that it‘s not the same as saying it in front of everyone

so he works on getting better at helping you handling people like that

he is supportive in his own way

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kimabutch · 1 year ago

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[ID: screenshot of a text post in r/DiscoElysium by u/beamoon2016. The post title reads: "Never thought I'd read a story that so effectively captures why life in a broken system is worth living."

The post content reads: "I grew up in Iraq. When people hear this in the US, where I now live, they usually say: "Wow...that must have been hard."

And I also love the wonky little generators people wire everywhere. I love the weird shark statue with Saddam torn off the top. I love the guys fishing in the river despite the fact that it's greenish black. I love how excited everyone gets about the government building one tiny new overpass. I also love the random overpass sitting in the desert connected to zero roads. I love hearing our friend giggle as my dad ribs him for driving a Toyota Hilux, a favorite of terrorists transporting weapons. I love the stray cats that carefully pick their way over the barbed wire on our walls. I love the people that run towards a bombing instead of away because they want to help the survivors. I love the guy who fixed my glasses with a wrong-sized screw because he lived through sanctions and doesn't need dumb things like correctly-sized screws.

I feel like this game gets why my life in Iraq was worth living. Even if a lot of my fellow Americans think the world sure would be nicer and simpler if Iraqis just didn't exist.

I thought I had signed up for a fun 20-30 hour diversion, not the feeling of being loved?!" End ID.]

:~)

#disco elysium #desc

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machinegunbun · 4 years ago

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UnConventional Bakers [Pete]

Requested? no

word count? 1.7k

TW? None

A/n: it’s like 80% dialogue bc it’s supposed to be a tv show. whadder ya gonna do

The props department did a wonderful job this season, comedy inspired props sprinkled about the set. Mic stands ended in lollipops, rice krispy stools covered in modeling chocolate, Comedians stood at every station, patiently awaiting directions.

Conventional Bakers was finally ready for shooting its first season. It was a show about famous people coming together on a baking show and competing. It would have everyone from singers to actors or, in this case, comedians. Every season would be inspired by the careers of the people competing.

“On this season of UnConventional Bakers we are joined by,” the camera took turns panning to each comedian as you said their name.

“Kevin Hart, Pete Davidson, Adam Sandler and…” you paused for dramatic effect “Fluffy!!!”

The comedians protest coming fast after

Why’d he get all the excitement?” Adam asks

“Yeah, i’m literally your fiance what the fuck.” Pete adds, laughing “I don’t like that, i don’t like that shit. I got my eye on you Gabriel.”

“Don’t hate me cause I'm beautiful.” Fluffy replies

“Bakers! Comedians, whatever,” you call out, trying to regain their attention, Pete playfully mumbled but returned his attention “if you want a chance at winning you will have to pay attention.”

“Got it, go. No wait… yeah okay, go.” Adam interrupts, causing you to bite back a smile. This would be a long shoot

“For tonight's challenge, you’re in for a treat. Because it’s only the first round, we’ll take it easy on you and allow teams.” muted murmurs fell over the room as they decided who would be on whose team, “Tonight we will be making the one thing a comedian couldn’t live without.” Your co-star, Nicole Byers, continues.

“Weed.” Pete guesses,

“No, their audience.”

“Oh, speak for yourself.”

“You will be making your very own audience cupcakes. When we say go you will head to your baking stations where you will find step by step instructions on how to make your audience, along with photo references and the clock will begin counting down.” You say

“Go, go, go! What are you waiting for?!” Nicole rushes, you take your seat as they make their way to the respective stations. The teams ended up being Pete and Kevin, Gabe and Adam.

Things were going pretty smoothly, the comedians racing back and forth from the ingredients to their stations as things began starting up. As you look around, you see Pete and Kevin looking confused as they stare at the instructions.

“Something wrong, sweety?” you ask

“No, all good over here. Thanks for asking.” Gabe pipes up, you laugh and make your way over to Pete

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I shouldn’t have dropped out of college.”

“How come? What's wrong?”

“I need ⅔ a cup, but there’s not a ⅔ measurement cup.” he says

“Well, if you need ⅔ but there's not one, you just take two--”

“Don’t patronize me. I got it.” Kevin cuts you off in the middle of explaining, grabbing two handfuls of flour and throwing it in the mixer “There, that should work.”

You sigh, making your way over to the other stations to check on how everyone else was doing. Adam was doing well, which wasn’t a surprise considering he’s a father and probably does some baking at home.

“Gabe, how are you doing?”

“Not good, I’m used to eating cake and not making it.”

“Oh hush, you’re doing fine!” You encourage, leaning forward to whisper to him “Kevin just measured flour with his hands, so I think you’ll be okay.”

“Guys, I think they’re talking about you.” Adam yells

“Yeah, I know.” Pete laughs.

“That's okay, cause you know what? Haters gonna hate.” Kevin yells

After making your rounds you sat back down, turning to face a laughing Nicole.

“That wasn’t sugar, that was salt.” She barely squeaks out “They’re gonna be so gross” you nod and laugh along, all but excited for the dishes that would soon be in front of you.

“On that note, can we get some water?” You call out to the team behind you

“And a medic?” Nicole adds

“And a mathematician. You understand this shit?” Pete says

“What? Basic measurements? Yeah baby, I do.”

Before you knew it the timer had gone off and the cupcakes were sat in front of you.

“So, these are what your audience were supposed to look like, and this is what they do look like.” Nicole says, vaguely gesturing to the cupcakes

“We- we uh, we took some creative liberties.” Pete says through a laugh

“Well, let’s see what it tastes like.” you say, grabbing one from the crowd and cheersing it with Nicole’s

“Might as well get this over with.” she says, making a clink noise with her mouth, as she does there's another noise too. The rock hard exteriors made a clunk noise. Your jaw dropped as you made eye contact with Nicole, not believing what had just happened

“Wait.” you say, grabbing another and throwing it at the ground with all the force you could muster. It cracked directly in half, crumbs flying across the floor.

“Pete!” you yell, an amused smile painted across your face. Pete laughs, covering his face

“I have no idea what happened.”he says, picking up the cupcake from the floor

“This is my passion, how did you fuck up this hard?!”

“I have no fucking idea.” he laughs, crumbling it up in his hand.

“I guess we still have to taste it.” you say, grabbing another and cracking a piece off on the table, handing one to Nicole. When you bite down there's an audible crunch that makes everyone in the room wince. You can’t help the expression that overcomes your face as the taste hits your tongue, looking over to Nicole to confirm it wasn’t just you. It wasn’t.

You attempt to open your water, your hand slipping again and again until Pete walks over and opens it for you, feeding you the water as he apologizes through his laughter. It took you a minute of held back gags to recompose yourself, but when you finally did you said,

“Your BLEEP is sweeter than this.” You say, deeply preferring it over the burnt, salty, crunchy thing in front of you.

“Really?” Pete asks, laughing and when you nod your head it only makes him laugh harder.

“Pete, you fucked up Pete.” Kevin says.

“Dont throw this on him, you’re the one who wouldn’t listen.” You say, looking over to Nicole who had resorted to licking the icing off the cupcake

“Look at what you’ve done to this poor lady. You should be ashamed. It’s gotta be a zero from me” You laugh, more than ready to move on.

“You know what, the icing wasn’t bad,” They began to fight over who had made the icing. “I don’t care, just promise to never do that again. Adam, Gabe, before I take a bite you have to promise me it won’t be like that.” Nicole says, dead serious. They shake their head, letting out little reassurances while choking down their laughter. You take a deep breath before lifting the cupcake to your mouth and taking a small test bite, surely traumatized.

To your delight, it was actually very good. You smiled and nodded, taking another bite as Kevin and Pete groaned, knowing they’d surely lost.

“I feel like theirs was so bad we can’t even celebrate.” Adam says.

“Yeah, i don’t think we need to add insult to injury by announcing the winners of this round. On to the next?!” You cheer, preparing to announce what would come next.

“For your next challenge, we will be making cupriphon- cupcakeriphones- Okay, the name hasn’t been completely sorted out yet, cupcake microphones!” You announce

“Yes! And because we felt bad for the loser, that’s just in the script so i had to say it, i don’t actually feel bad for you that was disgusting. Because we felt bad for the loser, we decided to give them a leg up. If you look at the stations, two of them have buttons. They’re called the happy heckler buttons and when you press them a timer will be set and either Y/N or myself will go yell encouragement to your teammates until it goes off.” Nicole says

“Awhh, so sweet. Ready? Set? Go!” You yell, watching them scatter to try to find a station.

“Ay, stay back this is mine.” Fluffy says to Adam, haphazardly wielding a knife, momentarily fighting over a station before Nicole reminds them the timer is counting down. They take a look at their ingredients before rushing over to the storage space and grabbing what they need.

You’d managed to get to the decorating stage with little to no issues when you hear Kevin yelling, “Pete! I need your help, I need those long legs pete.” straining to grab something from the top shelf

“Hold on, one second.” He says, glancing back momentarily as he tried to finish decorating.

“Oh shit, you’re already decorating?” Kevin asks as Pete hands him what he needed before walking back to his station.

“Yeah, catch up.” Pete says

“Okay, i’ll catch up, if that's what you want.” Kevin says, slamming his button down in a melodramatic act of sabotage.

Nicole yells in excitement, ready for some action, running over to distract Pete.

“You dick! I thought we were friends.” he says, slamming his own button. You run over, making sure to get in Kevins face as you encourage him, giving him slaps on the back and shaking his shoulders. Things had gotten very chaotic, very fast.

When the four minutes were over you left Kevin’s station for Pete’s, hanging out with him as his cupcakes cooked in the oven. He was bent over in a hug with you, small kisses being pressed to each others lips.

“Doing so good baby.” you mumble, fingers tangled in his hair. Usually you didn’t like PDA, but you had made an exception today because it had been a long shoot and you missed him.

“Way better than last time.” He confirms, remembering last time they had burnt and opting to check the oven.

“Look at that! This aint fair, Pete’s sleepin with the judges!” Kevin yells, making everyone laugh

“You could be too, Kevin.” Nicole winks

“Nicole, you’re both married.” You remind them

“Hey, that's show business baby.” Kevin jokes

When it all came to an end, Adam ended up winning and it was a surprise.. To no one. He was the only one even kind of equipped to win and he rode that all the way to the finish line.

#pete davidson #pete davidson fluff #pete davidson fic #pete davidson fanfic #pete davidson x reader

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soft-for-them · 4 years ago

Text

you’re going to feel so warm when you meet him ♡ aos montgomery scott x plus size reader ♡ soulmate AU

anon: Hey could I please request a aos Scotty and preferably but not necessarily plus-size reader soulmate au? Thank you so much! Your writing is lovely! ♥️♥️

really like this one, not proof read.

You were always fucking cold and you blame your soulmate.

Everyone has soulmate, a forever friend, what ever you want to call it.

Soulmates are your other half, your best friends and whilst they aren’t necessarily romantic they can lead to your future significate other.

Soulmates feel the feelings of their other half; some people feel it straight from birth some have ‘the moment’ when they’re older, when they finally connect with their soulmate’s feelings.

For so many years you felt nothing and it had begun to worry you. Well it worried you until you felt their feelings on your first week at the academy.

You remember it like it was yesterday.

It was a sweltering day and you had felt good enough to roll up your uniform sleeves with out people judging your chubby upper arms.

Your new friend Jim Kirk, a man who had attached himself on you on the first day, also had his sleeves rolled up.

‘It’s too hot.’ you complained as you pulled at the form fitting red uniform.

‘We’re too hot (y/n), turn a negative into a positive.’

You playfully slapped the taller man on the arm as you both entered the large classroom.

‘Shut up Jim you know the only hot one here is Nyota Uhura.’

For the rest of the class you were taking notes whilst talking to Jim but then you had felt a shiver run up your body.

At first you had though it was the air conditioning blowing on you too much but then you realised that there wasn’t any air conditioning in the classroom.

‘This sucks, they haven’t fix the aircon yet.’ Jim said whilst fanning himself with one of you notebooks.

Another shiver shook your body, the polar opposite feeling of cold overwhelmed you.

That day the shivering got progressively worse, so bad in fact that you collapsed in class from violent shivers with the beginnings of hypothermia.

And from that day you have been wearing an oversized winter coat so you don’t die from being so cold.

You don’t feel your soulmate for most of your life but then all you can feel is coldness and the occasional hangover, how romantic.

‘God damn it Jim this is a serious situation.’ you shout to the tired looking man and his good doctor friend, Leonard McCoy.

It’s the aftermath of the Romulan attack and you had been running around in your puffer coat all day, now only realising that you feel warm.

You don’t feel cold any more.

Leonard had checked all you vitals and he has concluded that you’re at normal body temperature, unlike your below zero temperature you normally had.

‘(Y/n) take off that coat, I don’t want you overheating.’ Bones demands.

‘Nope. Never. It’s my comfort blanket.’ you snuggle more into the ripped and sweaty garment which had taken the full force of the Romulan attack.

At first when you had gotten the specially made coat you felt horrid. It made you already big body bigger and you though you looked like colourful marshmallow.

However, you have grown to love the puffy coat with all your heart and you are hesitant to remove it from your person, even if it’s falling off you.

‘What if their dead?’ you ask out loud, it’s the only scenario that is playing in your head but Jim has been telling you that it isn’t true.

‘He’s not dead (y/n)-’ Jim sits down next you for some reassurance.

‘But I can’t feel them- wait him?’ your plea turns into confusion as you peer up to your dear friend and then to the more confused doctor.

‘I think I’ve met him (y/n).’ Jim calmly says to you.

You look to and from Jim and Bones watching their reactions.

Jim looks knackered but happy whilst it takes a moment for Bones to click on about who Jim is talking about.

‘Jim. Leonard.’ you stand anger bubbling up instead of happiness, ‘You better not be fucking with me.’

Tears bubble in your eyes. Too much has happened, you don’t want any false hope for who your soulmate might be, you need to be sure.

Jim nods at Bones who swiftly carries on with his job, leaving you two alone.

‘Jim. What’s going on.’ you are desperate, salty tears are now flowing down your face.

Jim stands up and hugs you. The hug is one of great comfort and friendship, like an older brother's hug.

‘You’re going to feel so warm when you meet him.’ he holds you away from the hug like a proud dad looking at his child, ‘Though you won’t feel it with that thing still on you.’

Jim points at the coat which is over heating you.

‘I’m not taking it off Jim.’ you give him a grumpy look and cross your arms.

‘Can you even take it off?’ You look away from the man which makes him giggle.

‘...No, the zip is stuck...’ you pout, ‘I’m not cutting it off. It’s sentimental to me!’

Your arms uncross, showing the many cuts across the coat. Even though it’s broken the cuts can be easily stitched up and covered up.

Jim takes your dangling arm and drags you with him.

‘Come on, let’s get this thing off you.’

‘But what about my soulmate Jim! Don’t change the subject!’ you arm starts to hurt from the enthusiastic man pulling on it.

The signature James.T Kirk smile pops on his face, he doesn’t respond.

Through much walking and a turbolife ride you both end up in Engineering.

‘Scotty!’ Jim shouts out as you look around at the engines of the ship, ‘need some help here!’

Beads of sweat start to form on you from the warm room, the coat you wear feels like it’s getting smaller around you.

Maybe it is the best thing to take it off.

‘Aye, Captain. What do you need?’

A man, who you suppose is Scotty, walks out towards you both.

He is a red shirt with receding hair and a sweaty forehead. However, you find him to be quite cute, especially when he sees you and smiles.

‘You got anything to unzip my dear friend from this death trap?’

Jim turns and points at you, you give Scotty a tiny wave.

To Scotty you look too cute but he does wonder what you look like underneath due to the coat covering most of yourself.

‘Ah, we just need a pencil and some patience.’ Scotty hurries away to find a pencil.

‘A pencil!’ You stare daggers at the all too happy man, ‘Jim we didn’t need to come down to engineering to get a pencil!’

Your whisper shouting is interrupted but the resurfaces of Scotty holding a flat pencil in his hand.

‘May I?’ Scotty says coming closer to you. You shyly smile and say a small ‘yes’ before he comes closer.

‘You see you use the pencil on the top of the zip-’ you allow him to closer and begin to use the pencil on the zip, ‘-and it should loosen it-’

A blush has surfaced on your face, though you can easily say it’s from you overheating but the same blush has appeared on Scotty’s face.

He jiggles the zip which undoes, he steps away so you can unzip the coat fully.

Like it’s the easiest thing in the world the coat comes off like shedding skin. You are automatically cooler as the puffy thing drops to the floor reliving your yellow dress uniform underneath.

You feel naked.

The coat was a comfort that coved up the your curves and the shortness of the uniform dress. Sure, you’re wearing thermal tights and big bulky winter boots but you still start to feel a tad insecure.

‘How you feeling (y/n)?’ Jim shouts from the sidelines with the same big smile on his face.

‘Weird. I feel weird Jim.’

You go to kneel down and retrieve the coat but Scotty beats you to it.

‘Here lass, I’ll get it for you.’

Scotty bends down and grabs the coat, he examines the cut up martial in his hands, he looks up right in your eyes and speaks.

‘Thermal martial, quite expensive for a normal winter coat.’ his is really just thinking out loud but the observation makes you smile.

He hand you over the coat which you hug into your body.

‘Yeah, well good job I didn't have to pay for it.’ Scotty looks confused, ‘It is- it was apart of my uniform. I had a thing before, was always cold.’

Jim looks on at you both babbling about the coat, he decides to intervene for both of you haven’t realised yet.

‘Didn't you wear a similar coat on that ice planet Scotty?’

Jim walks closer to you, who is hugging your coat too much to fully comprehend what’s to come.

‘Nah, I still froze half to bloody death.’

‘...what...’ your focus sifts to the Scotsman, shock morphs onto your face.

‘Yeah had hypothermia but somehow survived. Don’t know how I did?’

Scotty is oblivious to what has just dawned on you, he carries on talking about his time on the ice planet. However, he is interrupted but the soft thud of the bulky coat dropping on the floor.

Scotty turns to you to see tears escaping your face, his eyes start to water too.

He had been sweating more than usual for most of the day and now he is crying in front of a pretty lass and his Captain, how embarrassing.

‘A-are you sure Jim?’ you barley whisper as you stare at Scotty in front of you, salty tears still poring.

‘As sure as the day follows the night (y/n).’

A sound, that is like a mix between a laugh and a exclamative ‘huh’ escapes your lips along with the biggest smile. Your face, despite having tear stains, is a bright as the sun which is still shining.

Scotty is overcome by your happiness, a deep blush rises up his neck and covers his face.

‘Lass, you ok?’ he scratches the back of his neck in slight embarrassment for his sudden ripe red face.

‘I think we may have to sit down before I tell you this.’

You groan as you wake up from your slumber, the alarm blaring for you to get up.

Like you’ve done every day you heave the heavy and thick duvet cover off yourself however you are surprised to see the thing on the floor.

‘Whaa-’ you pat around yourself to feel that you have also striped yourself of your thick cotton pyjamas, only leaving yourself in some underwear.

It the dawns on you like deja vu, you feel warm.

‘Yeah, I found him.’ you groggily say as you swing your legs off the bed. You get ready for the rest of your day, with the recurring though of ‘I feel warm.’

To making the bed to putting on uniform, you are hit with the realisation that you don’t need all this thermal stuff for you’re not going to die of the cold.

Even when you slip on the horridly short yellow uniform that does fit well around your curves, you feel slightly more happy to wear it.

Despite that, you still hover at your door when you’re about the leave. Sure it’s stupid to bring along a cut up coat but would it hurt to take a long cardigan for comfort.

You run to your wardrobe and take out a thin and long black cardigan, which hides enough of your ‘bad looking’ areas that the uniform dress has created.

Old habits are hard to kill and you’re happy that they aren’t completely dead.

In your long cardigan and big boots you joyfully walk to the bridge.

The bridge doors swish open and you feel eyes on you.

‘Ah, (y/n) you’re finally here!’ your good friend chimes, the rest of the bridge crew agreeing.

‘You look very nice (y/n).’ Uhura says.

‘I agree, everything you wear is very efficient.’ Spock joins in.

A small and polite ‘thank you’ comes out. You walk over to your seat near Chekov and Sulu, both men say their ‘good mornings’ like the normally do.

You sigh as you lower you gaze to the small screen. However, you feel a hand on your shoulder.

Looking up you see Scotty, your soulmate, holding a cup in his hand.

‘I though I’d come and check up on you-’ he passes the mug to you, ‘And give you your morning tea/coffee.’

‘You remembered!?!’

‘Aye. We did talk for three hours last night you know.’

You remember the night before when you told the man your realisation of you being his soulmate. For three hours you sat and watched him fix parts of the ship whilst talking.

It was the best three hours of your life.

‘I’ll see you at lunch?’ Scotty questions, hoping that you also remember that you agreed to have lunch with him.

‘Would miss it for the world!’

it took me so long to finish this one but i really like it! i love scotty so much so i didn’t feel like a drag to write it at all.

anyhow, i’m always up for writing more scotty so if you have a star trek request please send it in!

this was edited on the 6th of December, just some little spelling errors changed.

(also finding good star trek gifs is sooooo hard.)

#scotty x reader #scotty x plus size reader #montgomery scott #montgomery scott x reader #montgomery scott x plus size reader #aos #star trek #star trek x reader #star trek alternate original series #x female reader #x plus size reader #x chubby reader

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funky-boat-zone · 3 years ago

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can this be a “pilot episode” if it’s a fic—

(the first fic for my salty’s lighthouse au is finally done! enjoy (or don’t). also it’s not going on ao3 because there’s no tag for this show and i don’t wanna clog the tugs tag.)

It was 6:30 in the morning, with the sun just starting to cast its light over Snugboat Harbor. All twelve tugs (plus Grampus) waited in front of Captain Star’s window for their orders. No one knew what they were waiting for besides the fact that Star had specifically asked the Zero Fleet to wait at her window instead of his.

Ten Cents yawned. “Why’d Captain bring the Zeroes here instead of just waiting for Zero to come to work?”

“What, do you have a problem with us staying at your dock?” Zorran snapped, Zug glancing apologetically at Ten Cents on his behalf.

Ten Cents sputtered in irritation. “No, of course not! Sheesh, are you sure you’re not the one with a prob—“

“Have some respect! If she called all of us over, it must be something serious!” Top Hat protested.

“D’ya think somebody sunk?” ZB tactlessly wondered aloud to Zak, earning him a few horrified looks from his fellow tugs.

“Well if the Coast Guard’s not here, it probably wasn’t someone that important.” Zak replied, only to spot Zorran glaring at him. “… What?”

“Shh, here she comes!” Hercules ordered, which promptly stopped the boats’ chatter.. for the time being, anyway.

Sure enough, a blue and white-striped megaphone popped out of the window. “Star Fleet, Zeroes, Boomer’s owner wants to know if Snugboat Harbor has the right kind of jobs for him and he’s coming to assist you all with work today! Whether or not he decides to stay, I expect you all to be on your best behavior!” With that, she returned to her office, closing the window on the way and leaving the tugs to talk amongst themselves until Boomer inevitably arrived.

Ten Cents groaned. “Oh no, what’d we do?”

“What do ya mean?” Zip asked.

“He’s jinxed! Cursed! No reasonable captain would make their tugs work with Boomer unless it was some kind of punishment!” Big Stack cried.

Ten Cents’ sighed. “I remember when he wanted to ‘help us out’ with a liner.”

“How’d that go?” Sunshine asked, although she quickly realized her mistake when she saw how Ten Cents’ face fell. “… Too soon?”

“Lighten up everyone, it’s not like he means to bring bad luck.” Warrior chided.

“And it’s not like Sunshine means to run bow-first into other tugs because she can’t take two seconds to look where she’s going, what’s your point?” Zorran argued, ignoring Sunshine’s cry of “Hey!” from across the jetty.

“Can’t we at least try to be nice to him?” Sunshine suggested. “Who knows? Maybe his luck will turn if we stop acting like everything he does is bad luck, just saying.”

The dead silence from both fleets indicated that they weren’t feeling inclined to take her suggestion.

—

Roughly an hour later, ZB spotted a tug in an orange worker’s cap and matching livery entering the harbor. What stood out to him the most was the tape and bandages covering the vessel, no doubt covering the cracks, dents, and holes from his countless accidents. “Must be Boomer.” He thought aloud to himself, pulling his barges out of the way so he could pass by. From how far away the other tug was, there was almost no way Boomer would actually hit the barges, but better safe than sorry, right?

Almost as soon as the tug in the orange cap was out of sight, ZB heard Zero cry “Watch the dock, watch the dock— I said *watch the dock!*”, which was in turn followed by a loud thunk and Zero lamenting the damage to his newly-repaired dock.

“Yep, has to be Boomer.” ZB corrected himself.

—

Much to the dismay of everyone, including the captains, Boomer’s first job for the day involved helping Warrior and Big Stack transport explosives. Both fleets were ordered to give them plenty of room, which they gladly did, excessively so: Not just because it was captain’s orders, but because no one wanted to be hit with flying shrapnel in case this job went wrong.

“C’mon, I’m pretty sure we don’t need to give them that much room.” Hercules sighed, noticing how both fleets were stationed almost a liner’s length apart from each other. Despite his reassurance, no one made a move to get closer.

“Well, I may end up in a museum someday, but that day will not be today and my exhibit will not be one on shipwrecks!” Top Hat argued, earning a few eye-rolls from the rest of his fleet.

“Really, you guys need to stop assuming the worst of him! He’s not even the one towing the explosives, there’s no possible way he could—!“ Hercules was interrupted by an explosion, followed quickly by Big Stack proclaiming “I’m okay!” in the distance. He looked to his horrified fleet. “O-Okay, that was just a fluke! Besides, it doesn’t sound like all the barges exploded—!” As if on cue, there was another explosion.. And another. And another. Warrior, Big Stack, and Boomer met up with their fleet and were thankfully all still afloat and intact, albeit covered in soot and understandably shaken.

“… Did you manage to save any of the barges?” Top Hat squeaked out, looking at the smoke rapidly rising in the distance.

“Some of them! Well, I don’t know how much good they’ll be, since they’re.. kinda-sorta—well, very much on fire now.” Boomer stammered. “But we tried!” Almost immediately after Boomer stopped speaking, there was a bright orange light in the distance, with all the tugs recognizing it as a fire.

Sunshine winced as her fleet scattered and passed her to find the Fire Chief. Ten Cents sighed.

At the very least, the blaze was only the second worst fire he’d ever seen in port.

—

“Who needs the Star Fleet? Zero’s been looking for another tug anyway.” Zorran noted as Boomer and the rest of the Zero Fleet prepared to pull down a group of old buildings. “Now, all you have to do is secure your line to these buildings, sound your whistle to make sure everyone gets clear, and pull them down.” There’s no possible way Boomer could mess this up, it’s so easy that even Zip and Zug can do it!

Boomer did as he was instructed, sounding his whistle as soon as he got his line on the building’s superstructure. The rest of the Zero Fleet stayed back, shut their eyes, and waited for the sound of the building to come down.

… And waited. And waited.

“I’m not hearing any…” Zug stammered to try and find the right word before settling for just poorly imitating the sound of a building falling down. “Y’know, any of that.”

“Zorran?” Boomer called. “It’s— Uh, the building’s not coming down!”

“… What?” Zorran asked incredulously.

“I think I made myself pretty clear, I’ve been—“ Boomer stopped to catch his breath, “I’ve been at it for at least a few minutes and it hasn’t budged.”

Zorran steamed over to where Boomer was struggling, wondering how he could fail such a simple task. “Move over and let me see that!”

ZB cringed as soon as he saw his boss head toward Boomer. “D’ya think the building’s gonna collapse if he—“

Zak quickly wrapped his line around ZB’s towbitts, making sure he stayed put. “Nah, let Zorran figure that out for himself.” He said. ZB stayed out, failing to notice the smirk on Zak’s face.

Zorran approached the building, having pushed Boomer out of the way. “I don’t see any reason why it hasn’t fallen yet—OH NO!” Shrapnel and dust flew everywhere as the building finally collapsed as the Zeroes had hoped.. right on top of Zorran, who sunk to the bottom with a terrified yelp.

Once the dust cleared, the rest of the Zero Fleet hesitantly steamed over to check if Zorran was okay. Thankfully, he wasn’t fully sunk, since the water near the abandoned buildings was too shallow to let that happen. In fact, he seemed relatively fine for a tug who’d just had a small building collapse on top of him.

“You—“ ZB coughed, “You okay?” he asked nervously, turning carefully to avoid hitting the debris in the water and coughing from the still-lingering dust.

Zorran just shook his wheelhouse resignedly, his eyes unfocused. “At this rate, those kids will go blind if they keep talking to that lighthouse.” He muttered.

The Zeroes exchanged a nervous glance with each other.

“I’ll get him to Lucky’s.” Zak sighed.

—

Zorran returned from Lucky’s good as new, although he looked just as irritated as usual. With the Zero Fleet done with their jobs for the day, he planned to meet up with them near a set of old docks, hoping the Star Fleet wouldn’t come by. “So, who do you think is going to be the oh-so-lucky fleet who gets stuck with Boomer?”

“Probably the Star Fleet, I’m calling it now.” Zak said. “They’ll take anything! I mean, look at Grampus! What’s Captain Star gonna do with a submarine, make him check the docks for barnacles?”

“Hey, he could check boats for barnacles too!”

“Not my point, Zug.”

“Sorry.”

—

Unbeknownst to the Zeroes, the Star Fleet were having a near-identical argument at their own dock.

“I don’t wanna say I don’t want him around—“ Sunshine began.

“I do.” Top Hat said snootily, causing the rest of the Stars at the dock to glare at him.

Sunshine ignored Top Hat and went on. “—But Captain just got Grampus, and I didn’t hear her talking about buying another tug.”

“Ah, so Zero wants him, then.” Big Stack sighed. “Never thought I’d say this, but I feel bad for the Zero fleet.”

—

Both the Stars and the Zeroes apparently had the same idea, because Warrior, Big Stack, and Zorran all found themselves gathered in front of the Star Dock in hopes that they’d get Captain Star to change her mind.

“What’s the problem, Star Fleet.. and Zorran?”

“Well, it’s not that we don’t like Boomer..” Warrior began, only for his brother to cut him off.

“We just hate working with him! I keep telling you, every time someone works with him, they end up crashing, sinking, or getting set on fire! Unless you put something into place to keep this from happening, he can work alone!”

Zorran cut in. “Or at least get someone more expendable to—“

“Zorran!” Both brothers snapped, prompting the Zero Fleet’s leader to shut up.

Captain Star sighed. “I guess now’s a good time to tell you that Boomer likely won’t be working with either of your fleets. Zero and I have thought it over and talked it out, and he doesn’t need a new harbor tug and the Star Fleet has plenty of tugs as is.”

“… Oh.” Big Stack and Warrior responded awkwardly. As much as they didn’t like working with Boomer, it wasn’t as if they wanted to drive him out of the harbor.

“Yes!” Zorran cheered quietly, though not quietly enough to keep Warrior from hearing him and shooting him a disapproving glance.

Captain Star ignored the tugs’ reactions and continued. “Star Fleet, I’d like you to say goodbye to him once you’re all done with work. Snugboat Harbor wasn’t the right fit for him, but let’s wish him luck.”

“Aye aye!” The Star Fleeters agreed before leaving to help the rest of their fleet finish work for the day. Zorran just turned around, headed for his own dock, and prepared to go to sleep.

—

The sun was just beginning to fall as the Stars and the Zeroes gathered to say goodbye to Boomer. The Zeroes arrived twenty minutes late, because Zorran refused to leave his dock and it took the rest of his fleet to drag him to the meeting spot.

“Goodbye Boomer! We wish you the best of luck!” Sunshine cheered.

The Zero Fleet looked to Zorran, only to realize he was falling asleep where he was floating. Hoping Boomer wouldn’t notice, ZB bumped his leader, jolting him awake.

“Uh— what she said!” Zorran shouted as his fleet sighed disappointedly behind him.

Thankfully, Boomer took no notice. “Thanks guys! I’ll be sure to write or visit or something once I find my new job!” He shouted before sailing off toward the horizon.. But not before accidentally sinking a buoy on his way out.

“Should we tell—“ Otis wondered aloud before Hercules cut him off.

“Nah, Captain doesn’t have to know.” Hercules said, wanting to just enjoy the moment.

But once Boomer passed under Snugboat Harbor’s bridge, a small piece of infrastructure came loose and crashed down onto his bow. While it wasn’t enough to collapse the bridge, it was certainly enough for Boomer to notice as he yelped in pain.

The Star Fleet froze in horror, wondering if they should go and help before Boomer’s voice broke the silence. “I’m okay!”

Realizing the rest of his fleet was staring at him with an expression that could best be described as “We told you so”, Hercules sighed and turned around to head to his dock. “I know, I know, I’ll go tell Captain.”

#saltys lighthouse #fic tag #untitled sl au

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poppysimp · 4 years ago

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i like my shirt soggy [ poppy x mc ]

Pairings: Poppy Min-Sinclair x MC

Tags: Hurt, Comfort

[ hi this is my first fanfic so please enjoy! also, this takes place right after everyone was yelling at poppy at the game ]

That showdown with Poppy left you speechless, who would’ve thought the queen of Belvoire could be treated in such a way by her so called lackeys. Anyways, it’s not like you felt bad for her; all she’d done to you since you arrived was yell at you, hate you for some reason and look infuriatingly perfect (you absolutely did NOT think she was pretty)

Even though you absolutely didn’t feel any kind of remorse because of what happened to her it was still a pretty hard scene to watch. Her usually confident facade had turned into what you’d imagine a puppy would look like after being kicked, you noticed even though she tried her best to remain calm and unbothered she was trying to hide her trembling hands into her pockets. And the tears slowly welling up in her eyes positively didn’t shatter your heart into little pieces. You did not like Poppy Min-Sinclair.

Or at least that’s what you kept repeating to yourself and everyone else.

Because in reality, your heart felt as if it had been squished and then smashed with a hammer. Your head was full of remorse, uneasiness, pity and all you wanted to do was run to her and give her the world because her the moment you saw her face fall you felt as if yours had been taken away. The reality was, maybe you did like Poppy Min-Sinclair.

You looked at yourself in the mirror of one of the common bathrooms. Who were you? What did you want? Is taking Poppy down what you really want? Or really you just want her to look at you?

Suddenly your wallowing is interrupted by a soft whimper coming out of one of the stalls. You softly open the door and find the girl who was causing your current identity crisis sitting on the floor.

Poppy Min-Sinclair. Wrecked. Sobbing. And still looking perfect.

She lazily looked up with her brown eyes blood injected because of how long she‘d been crying and did the best to wipe off her tears as soon as she noticed you.

“What do you want, Jackson?” She asked trying to hide her shaky voice “If you’re here to mock me a little more, I think even someone as dumb as you can realize i don’t really need that right now” Poppy continued holding back the oncoming tears.

“What? Of course I’m not here to mock you. I was .... “ You doubted wether you should finish the sentence for a second “ ... worried about you”

She looked at you with evident surprise in her eyes (and maybe something more?) when you sat on the floor next to her. Though all trace of vulnerability disappeared in a matter of seconds and was replaced with a stoic expression “I genuinely didn’t want any of this to happen, I don’t think you deserved it.” You said after a few minutes “I just wanted to have a normal college life, go to class, throw some parties. You know, the usual. Maybe we could’ve even been friends” You looked at her eyes.

You both sat in silence for a while next to each other. The bathroom was completely still except for the occasional sob coming out of Poppy.

“It wasn’t hate at first sight, you know.” She broke the silence and you turned to look at her “Actually when i first saw you I thought you were beautiful. Not as beautiful as me, but it was a close second. “ You chuckled “But then I noticed the way some people were looking at you. They thought the same thing I did.” She continued. “And I thought, who does this girl think she is. She walks in with zero fashion sense and small town scent and people are already obsessed with her.” Poppy said as she wiped some more tears. “Then when you talked back to me I just felt so threatened you’d take my spot I guess I ended up losing focus.”

You already knew all of this, you didn’t have to be a genius to figure it out. Honestly you felt bad she had to get to this, you truly never intended to take her spot, you just wanted to teach her that she couldn’t always control everyone, a harmless little lesson. But you both pushed things too far.

“Listen, Poppy, I promise you have no reason to feel threatened. I don’t want your throne. I don’t want your friends. I don’t want to take anything from you.” You said as you hesitantly grabbed her hand. “I just wanted to be normal, not get caught up in this whole thing. Honestly the real villain is The T for putting us against each other, we’re the real victims here.”

She chuckled at that last comment “Yeah, I know you’re right” She squeezed your hand. “It’s just ... growing up it was only my mom and I. My dad left when I was too young to remember him so my mother pushed so she could make a name for herself, so I could have a better future. This path was not pretty and she’s made sure to remind me ever since I was old enough to comprehend sentences.” She laid her head on your shoulder while not letting go of your hand. “She always said I was either the best or I was nothing. Reminded me every day that she sacrificed everything so that I could have a shot at life and what a disappointment it would be if I wasn’t number one.”

Poppy was good, you could sense it. She just has a very hard shell built by an abusive mother, and on top of that you could tell she has never had anyone to help her break through that shell, all this attention from everyone did was make it thicker. You felt for her, you really did. And add the fact that right now she looked extremely fragile and small, her state only made you want to hold her and never let go

“You don’t have to always be the best, you know. Sometimes it’s okay being second if that means not stepping on everyone you care about.” You said looking directly at the wall. “At the end of the day, the only thing that will be worth something when we’re gone is the hearts we’ve won, not our achievements and not the fear we’ve inspired. Is being on top really worth it if no one truly misses you when you leave? Maybe you should focus on those people who care about you.” You paused. “ .... like me.”

And that’s when you feel it. A dampened patch on the piece of fabric Poppy’s head was in. “God, I’m such a mess. I just ruined your shirt, I’m so sorry.” She quickly moved away with her cheeks coated by a subtle blush as soon as she noticed your hands intertwined.

“Don’t worry.” You smiled fondly as you put a hand against her salty cheek. “I like my shirt soggy, I heard it’s the latest fashion trend.”

She bit her lip. “About that thing you said about people caring about me... what do you say we discuss this further over dinner on tuesday? “

You laughed and stood up offering her a helping hand afterwards. “I’d love to. I’ll pick you up at 8:00.” You smiled heading for the door. “It’s a date, Min-Sinclair.” You yelled heading out.

You had a date with Poppy Min-Sinclair, Zoey is not going to believe it.

#choices stories you play #playchoices #queen b #queen b choices #poppy min sinclair #poppy x mc #queen b fanfic #choices fanfiction #makepoppyali2020

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deadupondaylight · 4 years ago

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I’m Sorry But I’m Not About To Change

Hello, I interrupt my hiatus briefly to give you fanfic of @knivestothroats series “In The Woods Somewhere” because I have zero inhabitation about writing smut. I give you smut. Do I think Buck and Fletcher would make a happy stable couple? No. Do I want to see them f*ck? Yeah. This is non-canon. CW: past abuse mentions, paranoia, blow-job, consensual smut with dubious power dynamics

the reviews: “This is deadass just porn written like a horror movie “ - @delightful-dreadful

Buck tried to sleep. There was never anything else to do, so he might as well lay in bed. At night, the lodge creaked as the foundation shifted. It gave the illusion that someone was up and moving around. Most nights, Buck could ignore it. He would focus on the ever present chorus of crickets in the woods surrounding the lodge. When he closed his eyes, he could sometimes pretend he was outside there with them, resting on soft grass and damp soil under an open moon.

Tonight was not one of those nights.

It was windy in the way that suggested a storm was coming in. The gale shook the trees outside, pressed in through cracks in the lodge, like a breath through a wood instrument - it whistled. Every time he caught himself starting to drift off, he would hear it. It sounded like whispers. His mind filled in the rest, turning the wind into a Russian lilt. Words could not be comprehended, but he felt Petrova in the dark, and like the prey he was, it left him alert.

His eyes burned each time he flicked the lights on only to find the room empty. He repeated the ritual until it broke any last hope he had for sleep tonight. He could be grateful for the tiniest kindness that Fletcher had traded the bracelet for being chained to the bed. Buck left his room.

He passed closed doors, each hiding its own horror in the form of Fletcher’s students. They would sleep without disruption, somehow not weighted by their past actions, their future ones. Buck despised them for that.

He headed downstairs, wondering if he could lay down in the garden without the bracelet alerting Fletcher. He wasn’t sure he cared if it did. Whether Buck acted out or not, Fletcher still beat him. Nothing he did mattered.

The lights were off downstairs except for a glow coming from the lounge. Buck’s breath got caught in his throat. He tried to recall if every bedroom door was shut, but already he was doubting his own memory. The wind pressed against the lodge and again he could hear Petrova’s whispers. Buck shut his eyes, expecting her to attack on sight, but nothing happened.

“Buck?”

Buck’s eyes fluttered open. Fletcher sat cross-legged on the couch, illuminated by the tv screen. They ignored it in favor of examining the look on Buck’s face.

“Are you okay?” They asked.

“Fine,” Buck answered, curtly. “Just...couldn’t get comfortable.” He didn’t want to explain. By now, Fletcher should already know the psychological damage they had put him through. If they didn’t, they either were truly a sociopath, or they didn’t care.

“What are you doing up?” He debated asking to be let outside. Buck remembered how well that had gone last time, still feeling a ghost of pain where the bear trap had landed.

“It’s my fucking house, Buck.” It was hard to argue with that answer. Buck was about to turn and head back to his room when Fletcher elaborated. “Needed a little ‘me’ time,” They said, pointing towards the television. “Now that the kids are in bed.”

“Should I leave you alone?” Buck couldn’t tell if that was a subtle hint.

“Nah, I’ve seen this one before.” Nonetheless, their eyes returned to the screen. “You could watch,” Fletcher offered. “Maybe then you’ll finally develop some taste.”

Buck sat on the other end of the couch, leaving a conscious space between himself and Fletcher. “Uh, yeah, sorry I had actual cool interests before I became the lodge’s pet.” Images flashed inaudibly on the screen, the volume muted. Instead, Fletcher had the subtitles turned on. Buck skimmed them, tired and unengaged in the film.

“Is that what you think of yourself?” Fletcher questioned.

“I really don’t know what to call myself,” Buck confessed. ‘Pet’ seemed too friendly of a term. Prisoner held some dignity he didn’t seem to possess.

Buck relaxed into the leather of the couch, cold until it warmed to his body temperature and worn enough to be comfortable. Fletcher similarly readjusted for comfort, Buck assumed. He noticed weight on the back of the couch behind him, Fletcher sprawling out casually, yet closing distance between them.

The movie went on, viewed but unwatched by Buck.

“Do you want my honest opinion?” Buck spoke up.

“Hm?”

“I don’t like it.”

Fletcher laughed. “You’re really trying to get your ass kicked, huh?” They ruffled his hair playfully, which turned into their fingers resting in his hair. Buck swallowed. They stroked his hair back, smoothing it out. Hair follicles tingled where he was touched. Buck stole a glance at Fletcher. Their eyes were intent on him. Dark but reflecting light from the screen that continued on without their collective attention. They bore an expression Buck wasn’t sure how to read. They looked like a wolf with their prey gutted before them - no more chase to be had nor fight to win - just meat to be ripped from bone and consumed.

“Are you aroused, Buck?” Fletcher asked him.

“No.” The comfortable plaid lounge pants Fletcher had given him to sleep in were feeling a bit tight around his groin. It wasn’t related, Buck told himself.

“Liar,” Their lips pulled into a smile. For a moment, Buck swore their teeth were sharpened at the canines, but it was a trick of the light.

“So? It’s the gentlest anyone has touched me in a while,” he justified.

“It has been awhile for you, huh?” The wolf prowled closer. Fletcher had a scar over their mouth. It was old and faint. He’d only noticed now that he had gotten a good look at their lips.

Fletcher slid off of the couch, now kneeling on the ground. Their arms traced along his thighs. “Not much kindness for you to be had in this house,” They mused to themselves. Buck wasn’t sure where they were going with this. Well, he had a good guess. He knew where he’d like it to go, but wasn’t convinced he wasn’t walking into another bear trap.

Their hands got dangerously high. Buck hissed in a breath.

“Are you going to hurt me?” Buck asked.

“No.” They tugged at the waistband of his pants. Buck shifted, helped shirk them down. “Quite the opposite.”

Cold air touched warm skin, flushed with blood. He felt vulnerable, not dissimilar to when he had been tied up in the basement, hands over his head so he couldn’t defend himself even if he wanted to. Fletcher’s breath crept along his member, causing it to further stiffen. Buck leaned his head back, his neck sinking into the plush back of the couch. He anticipated the welcoming warmth of Fletcher’s mouth, but it didn’t come.

Buck peered at Fletcher before him.They were situated comfortably between his legs, looking up at him with that same bared teeth smile.

“Yes?” they asked him. Buck blinked.

“Um, yeah. Sure. Why not?”

“I’m not going to do it if you don’t want me to,” Fletcher explained.

“This is the first time you’ve ever asked me for consent on something,” Buck pointed out.

“I’m not a monster.”

That was debatable. Buck’s retort was silenced into a moan as Fletcher’s mouth covered him. He couldn’t tell if Fletcher was particularly skilled or if it was the lack of action that so easily caused Buck to melt in pleasure.

He reached to card his fingers through Fletcher’s hair, but no sooner did his hand touch Fletcher, they pulled away, training their dark eyes on him.

“No touching,” they ordered.

He didn’t know what to do with his hands once Fletcher resumed. Buck found himself wishing Fletcher physically restrained him first to give his hands an excuse to be idle. It took him a moment to relax and allow his mind to go blank.

But once it did.

His breath hitched with every sweet sensation that darted through his veins. Buck covered his mouth with his hand as another moan ripped through his throat. Despite choosing to do so, a part of him imagined it was Fletcher silencing him. He pretended the fingers pressed to his lips were Fletcher’s and squeezed even tighter as if to say ‘quiet, so the others won’t hear you.’ What would the students do if their teacher was caught in the act? Buck had a feeling it would somehow affect him more than it would Fletcher.

His hand slipped away from his mouth in order to speak. “I’m close,” he warned, his voice soft and raspy. Fletcher either failed to hear him or didn’t care, for they didn’t let up on his member until he released inside.

Buck continued to stare at the ceiling, focusing on steadying his breath. He was cold and wet where Fletcher detached. Fletcher invaded his vision, leaning over his body. Yet another surprise, Fletcher kissed him. Their mouth wet and salty as their tongue pressed past his lips. Buck realized he was tasting himself.

They pulled away once more. Buck moved to cover himself. Fletcher was once again seated on the floor. Credits rolled on the screen behind their head.

“Do you want me to…?” Buck broke off.

“No,” Fletcher answered. They stood to turn the screen off. Buck’s mouth felt dry. He worried he did something wrong.

“Then why…?”

Fletcher shrugged. “I wanted you to feel good. For once.” Buck continued to track Fletcher’s movements with his eyes. They moved slow but with purpose. “You should head to bed,” Fletcher told him.

Hesitantly, Buck rose to his feet. Fletcher was waiting in the frame for him. They followed him back to his room, but didn’t enter after Buck. “This changes nothing,” Fletcher informed. They watched as Buck slid under the bedsheets. “Sleep tight.”

#original content

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