#and hands me a plate with pizza before sneaking back out

[ratcandy]

also i told one of the nurses i was hungry since i hadn't eaten this morning and she snuck me a slice of pizza from their break room. so really what i'm saying is peace and love on planet earth

[kitkat13001]

₊˚⊹♡⭒˚.⋆ 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚗𝚘𝚠 ?

i try to be the chill girl but honestly i’m not knee deep in the passenger seat (and you’re eating me out) two weeks and your mom invites me (to her long beach house) if its casual, is it casual now?

⤷ katsuki bakugou x reader

⤷ fem-leaning reader (“girl” used twice, no other pronouns), friends w benefits-ish to lovers, reader is bad at feelings, brief mention (1) of underage drinking, heavily implied reader and bakugou are sleeping together but nothing explicit, lyrics and title from chappell roan’s “casual,” this is long (~2k words)

for three months it’s been like this. three months of sneaking around and shared glances and private smiles and near-silent laughter at one in the morning. 

it started one night towards the end of winter, just before the beginnings of spring. 

you had just finished up a big practical exam and the class had come in first. you’d worked your asses off and it had been totally worth it. everyone felt like they were walking on air that night, and you’d all decided to get together for a late dinner in the dorms to celebrate. 

you remember it clearly. the valentines decorations were still up in the lounge. you’d ordered pizza to supplement sato’s delicious noodle arrangement and bakugou’s yakitori, and stayed up well past curfew talking and eating and laughing. it was one of the best nights of your life. 

you’d gone to the bathroom, but when you came back to the lounge everyone had already gone up to bed. 

“guess the party’s over,” you’d mumbled to yourself with a little laugh of disbelief. 

“oi!” had come a voice from the kitchen. “who’s out there?!”

“guess,” you’d called out teasingly, leaning against the doorframe. 

bakugou wore his trademark scowl, same as ever. he was standing over the sink, hands covered in suds amidst a pile of dishes. 

“hmph. the hell you doing up, dumbass? figured you’d gone to bed after you disappeared on us.”

“hm. three years and you think you’d come up with a better nickname,” you laughed. “i told denki i was going to the bathroom. something in those noodles did a number on me.”

he had scoffed, seemingly irritated by your overshare. you didn’t care. you were never one to withhold anything and he knew that. 

“whatever. everyone’s asleep already anyway.”

“what are you doing up, kacchan?”

he’d scowled at that, but said nothing. he had long since given up trying to dissuade you from using the nickname. he nodded to the pile of dishes in the sink before him. 

“damn extras left a mess. said we’d pick up in the morning but i can’t sleep with this fuckin’ mess.”

you had laughed at that. he fixed you with a withering glare. 

“what’s so fuckin’ funny?”

“what a mouth,” you snickered. “you never change, do you, kacchan?”

he’d scoffed, scrubbing agitatedly at a plate. “i change plenty.”

you just laughed again. you guessed he was right, because three years ago he never would’ve been caught dead up this late. 

“you gonna help me with this or what?” he demanded, gesturing to the mess of the kitchen. 

you’d shrugged, figuring it would’ve been cruel to leave him to face this alone. 

“i guess so. you wash, i dry?”

he replied with a soft grunt of affirmation. 

it was peaceful that night, standing shoulder to shoulder with bakugou as he handed off soaked dishes for you to wipe down. you took comfort in the warm brush of his hands against yours. 

and the fateful moment that led to all of this?

he’d fumbled a dish, the mug slipping from his soap-slicked grip. you had gone to catch it, reaching over at the exact same time he did. 

you remember the brief pain of your heads colliding and bakugou’s proceeding shout. 

you had grabbed his shoulders for support, and you remember being surprised by how warm he was. it’s not like you’d never touched him before, but the number of times you’d ever been this close to him was minuscule. 

he might’ve been mad, probably about to open his mouth to berate you about how he’d “had it!” and that you “should’ve left it” or something. but he stopped cold, eyes wide at just how close you were. barely an inch between your noses. you could smell the spices on him from when he’d been cooking earlier. 

you don’t know what led you to say it. maybe it was the late hour or the obscene amount of food you’d eaten or the wine cooler you’d allowed yourself to drink after mina had brought them out. 

“can i kiss you?”

you think bakugou might’ve been more surprised by that than if you’d socked him in the face. 

you don’t know why he did, but he had nodded. he thought about it for a second—just one, not too long—and then given the slightest incline of his head. and you did it. 

you kissed him. 

it wasn’t your first kiss. if it was his, you couldn’t tell. he was soft, responsive to your movements but still sure of himself when he kissed you back. 

he tasted vaguely of spices. 

you don’t know how long you stayed like that. you don’t know at what point his hands moved from the sink to your cheeks or when he’d backed you against the counter. 

you just know that when he’d asked if you wanted to go up to his room, you nodded with flushed cheeks and a breathless smile. 

and that’s how it’s been for three months. you’d never addressed it, never put a name to what you had. you’d never questioned it or taken it for granted. bakugou is the kind of person you can follow blindly into any situation and know you’re going to come out okay. and you’ve never been someone who needed a reason to be around people you like. 

tonight’s not much different. it’s quiet, a cool breeze in the air from the open window. the nights are getting warmer as spring sets in, so the breeze feels good on your skin. 

you lay back on bakugou’s bed, breathing in the smell of his ocean breeze laundry detergent and the faint scent of the almost-blooming cherry blossoms just outside.

he didn’t used to let you stay over. he’d walk you back to your dorm once everyone was asleep, grumble a goodnight and disappear back down the hall. but after a while, he stopped mentioning how late it was getting. he’d just toss over and fall asleep, his arm still resting across your body next to him. 

“what’re ya sighing for?” bakugou huffs, reaching over you to plug his phone into the charging outlet. 

“i’m not sighing,” you reply, frowning up at the ceiling. 

“and now you’re pouting.”

you huff back at him, propping yourself up on your elbows. “i am not pouting. i’m eighteen years old, i don’t pout.”

katsuki raises his eyebrows in challenge. “you want me to get you a mirror?”

you roll your eyes and toss a pillow at him. he catches it just the way you expect him to, right in front of his face. you strike quicker than he can move it, smacking the front with a palm. you laugh at his startled growl, falling back on the bed as he throws the pillow back your way. 

you smile innocently up at him, clutching the pillow to your chest and relish in the scowl he casts at you and the way his hair is tousled from the scuffle. 

“brat,” he scoffs, knocking his leg against yours. “c’mon, it’s late. i wanna sleep.”

he waits until you’ve crawled in beside him to turn out the lights. 

you stare out into the dark for a while, but sleep doesn’t come. 

“katsuki?” 

his responding groan in muffled into the pillow. you prop yourself up to turn and look at him. 

“can i ask you something?” 

you see his scarlet eyes open in the dark and glance up at you with a furrowed brow. 

he huffs as he rolls over to face you. “i guess.”

now you’re nervous. god, why did you have to bring it up?

“i don’t want to sound stupid or anything, but i…” you pause, trying to figure out how to phrase it. “what are we? i mean, like…to each other?”

it’s both a relief and an immense amount of anxiety finally getting the words out. “it’s been eating at me for a while now—and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to—but i figured i’d die if i didn’t at least ask.”

katsuki’s looking right at you, but for once you can’t read his eyes or expression. the silence is stretching and your stomach turns with unease. you keep talking, and even though you know you’re rambling, your mouth is like a runaway train. 

“i mean, to my knowledge at least, you don’t sleep around, right? we don’t see other people. and you’re not…you’re not completely detached when we’re together—at least i hope you aren’t. you don’t act like it anyways. so it seems like it’s more than a physical thing?”

god, why can’t you stop talking? it’s more to yourself than katsuki at this point anyway. 

“and we’re friends. we’ve been friends for such a long time now. it’s not like i’m some random girl you picked up off the street.”

he scoffs quietly and you glance over at him. his expression is pinched, but otherwise unreadable. “tch. i wouldn’t do that.”

“exactly,” you agree, trying to keep your voice even as you fidget with your hands. your voice is quiet and you hang your head a little, unable to face his deep eyes. “i…know you care about me. so i guess that’s why i’m asking what this is to you.” you start rambling again before the silence gets too long. “are we just friends who mess around sometimes? is it that you’re not ready for a relationship…or maybe you do want a relationship but just not with me?”

“do you want a relationship?” he asks. 

“i…i don’t know. maybe, if that’s what you wanted.”

“what do you want?”

“i mean, we don’t have to put a label on anything if you don’t want to. unless you do want to, then i guess we could do that too.” the options are flooding your brain, mouth going off without filter. 

“what do you want?” katsuki asks again, red eyes boring into yours in the dark. 

you shrink back, feeling small under his unwavering gaze. “i…i don’t know.”

he scoffs. “liar.”

your heart sinks a little. 

“what do you mean?”

“you know what i mean,” he replies, and you can hear the frustration in his voice. “you’re not the ‘whatever you want’ girl. you never have been.”

you know he’s right, but that doesn’t make it less painful to hear. normally that kind of tenacity is what people strive for, what people admire. but the way katsuki says it…he makes it sound like a bad thing. like you’re selfish. 

“so tell me,” he insists, face mere inches from yours. “why don’t you care what we are?”

“because i care about you,” you whisper, almost against your will. “and i want you to be happy, so i’ll take you in whatever capacity i can get you.”

he looks almost surprised at that, then slightly exasperated like you’ve missed his entire point. he exhales sharply, sitting back against the headboard. 

“before i answer you, lemme ask you something myself first.”

“okay,” you breathe. 

“why the sudden need to know?”

“huh?”

“you said this shit’s been eating at you for a while now. how come? what’s got you feeling all contemplative all of a sudden?”

it takes a minute to gather your thoughts, much less the courage to speak. you hadn’t been expecting him to turn this on you. 

“well…we’re graduating in a few weeks, and i guess i just…i don’t want to never see you again. i don’t want this to end. and i…” you pause, taking a shaky breath, then shrug. “i don’t want to lose you, kacchan.”

he’s staring now in what you can only describe as disbelief. your stomach stirs uneasily as you sit in silence for a moment. 

“you don’t want to lose me,” he repeats, like its the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “that’s it?”

“yes, that’s it,” you reply, suddenly defensive. you cross your arms, feeling incredibly self-conscious now. 

“and you think i’m what, just gonna up and leave you? don’t you give a fuck about us?” he demands. 

“i didn’t know there was an ‘us’!” you cry. “i didn’t know it meant anything to you.”

“of course it fuckin’ meant something!” katsuki shoots back, on the verge of a shout. 

“i stayed with you the entire time you had the flu in second year. i let you come with me to the gym. we did our work studies together. i make you food when you’re stupid and don’t eat, i let you come in my room whenever you want and sleep in my fuckin’ bed when you have a bad dream.”

you sit there for a moment, absorbing it all. it’s true, all of it. 

“i don’t do that shit for just anyone,” he adds, grumbling. and he’s right. he doesn’t. “so don’t you for one minute think that you don’t mean anything to me. why else would i be spending all this damn time with you?”

“i don’t know,” you hum, crawling over to him. “maybe you did it cause all our other friends were getting together and you felt left out.”

“when have i ever done something just because some other fuckin’ extra did too?”

“never,” you giggle, leaning against him until you’ve fallen into his lap.

���exactly. so what does that tell you?”

“that…you’re very brave and independent?”

he groans loudly, rolling his eyes. “you’re fuckin’ impossible.”

“you love it,” you beam up at him. your stomach flutters with something warmer now as he reaches down and brings you up to meet his lips. it’s a deep kiss, leaving no room for anything but him and you and saying everything that you never said up until now. 

“yeah, so what if i do?” he murmurs when he pulls away, still close enough that his lips brush yours when he speaks. 

“tell me,” you say, smile and voice soft as you push his spiky bangs away from his face. his cheeks are warm under your hands. “tell me for real this time.”

his ruby eyes are deep and sincere when he says it. 

“i love you.”

it’s all you ever needed to hear.

nothing like the pressure of finals to get you locked in on a fic. i’ve been sitting on this for a while and i finally got inspired to finish it. i really enjoyed the reader/bakugou dynamic here. hope you like!

[tobesolnelyx]

Fratboy Shauna who is starts talking to reader and is genuinely concerned with readers protein intake 😭 and starts bringing her the most insane foods to eat because of it? Has a conversation with reader about how her eating simple carbs and her energy being low makes sense. Just the most insane nutrition nonsense 😭 fully tries to reinvent girl dinners to make them more balanced. Probably even convinced the other girls to help her sneak protein into your plate or whatever, for some reason i just think Shauna would be the one who’d be so intense about it and endearing maybe the more she goes out of her way the more she’s realizing she’s into reader

a/n: im sorry, but this made me giggle. I SEE THE VISION THO, so here it is

Shauna looked up from her phone just in time to see you sit down at the table. The spoonful of her protein oatmeal, stuffed with God knows what, froze midair. She frowned, watching as you heavily placed your bowl of cereal on the table beside her. She glanced around, as if to make sure everyone saw the crime against humanity you were committing, but Natalie was too busy devouring yesterday’s pizza. Jackie was sprawled out with her notes across from you, and Lottie was watching some dumb video on YouTube.

Shauna sighed in frustration.

“What are you doing?” she asked, grimacing slightly. No one even looked up. Only you frowned and responded with a snort.

“Eating breakfast,” you replied, not quite understanding what her problem was this time. You ate this almost every day like some kind of ritual before classes. You were probably in the frat house more than anyone else, steadily clearing out their fridge. No one can blame you though.

“You call that breakfast?” Shauna raised her eyebrows, nodding toward your bowl of cereal. Now Jackie looked up, scanning the scene in front of her, but apparently decided it wasn’t worth her attention.

“Shauna, I eat this almost every day, what’s your problem now…?” you began, sighing. Typical. Shauna finding problems where there aren’t any.

“Exactly,” she said, gesturing toward your bowl before shoveling another spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth. “That’s the problem. That doesn’t even look like breakfast.”

Silence fell. Broken only by sounds from Lottie’s phone and the crinkle of the pizza box. You turned around as if to check whether this was some kind of joke.

Shauna was dead serious. Ugh.

“Nat is literally eating pizza,” you said in your defense. Nat finally looked up, still chewing a piece in her mouth. Shauna let out a frustrated growl, quickly swallowing another mouthful of oatmeal.

“But it’s Nat,” she gestured, as if that explained anything. Nat looked at her like Shauna just insulted her.

“What do you mean ‘but it’s Nat’?” she grumbled, clearly displeased. Lottie snorted under her breath. Shauna rolled her eyes and pointed at you, speaking as if to an idiot.

“It means you’re not her,” she clarified. Very thoroughly.

Nat blinked. Once. Then again.

“I know I’m not her,” she raised her hands in a defensive gesture, her voice an octave higher. “So what, not being her means I don’t deserve your dietary advice?” she scoffed. More teasing Shauna than anything.

“Nothing’s gonna help you anyway,” Shauna shot back immediately, tired of the exchange. “Anyway, what I mean is…”

“Och, come on,” Nat swallowed the last bit of her pizza and stepped closer with her face still stuffed, smacking her lips. She looked at your cereal bowl, inspecting it. “Looks like breakfast to me. Yeah, Lot?”

Lottie glanced at the now kind of soggy cereal. Compared it to Shauna’s oatmeal, as Shauna was now leaning over you in frustration.

“Well, I mean… it could be better. I guess,” she finally said, looking around the table. Jackie shot a glance that said she was trying to figure out why a cereal debate was unfolding in front of her.

“Exactly!” Shauna immediately perked up again. “You’re not eating the way you should be.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, leaning back in your chair. Nat playfully poked your forehead. “Unlike you, I don’t go to the gym. I don’t have to eat… all that,” you muttered.

Shauna leaned in even closer. Her muscles showed through the tight, black T-shirt.

“The point is to eat healthy. More… protein, fiber, and shits. You always complain about being tired,” Shauna pressed again, now clearly deciding she was your personal dietitian. “It’s because you don’t eat right,” she muttered, frustrated.

“Since when do you care?” you sighed, starting to eat your cereal, but Shauna was already sliding her oatmeal bowl toward you.

“Since now,” she muttered like a sulky child.

“She’s got a point. Kind of,” Jackie admitted without even looking up.

“Seriously?” you groaned, looking around the group. Nat just shrugged and gave you a flick on the forehead before walking off. “Thanks, coach,” you murmured sarcastically and Lottie snorted.

Ochhh, imaginee. Shauna deciding, just because, that she was going to change your eating habits. She started packing you lunches for classes. High protein ones that looked way worse than they tasted. She got obsessed with making you protein shakes and prepping your dinners. And when one of the frats came home, the air would be filled with the smell of food though she usually only made portions for the two of you.

“Fucking asshole,” Lottie mumbled, smacking Shauna lightly on the back of the head. Shauna just adjusted the arm wrapped around you and pulled you closer to her chest. Her eyes stayed glued to the laptop screen where the two of you were watching a movie.

“Are you full?” she asked, and when you nodded, a kiss landed on your forehead.

“Good.”

And if anyone asked her why she cared so much? Just because. Definitely not because she cared about you. Definitely not.

[violetszn]

two

summary ✩ you’ve noticed vi sneaking out at night for a while now, but when you finally ask about it, she just smirks and invites you along. you don’t expect to end up in a crowded club with her hands on your waist, or for the teasing to turn into something else entirely, blurring the lines between roommates and something else.

warnings ✩ 5.4k ✩ swearing, innuendos (a common pattern w/ vi), drinking, vi gets kinda touchy, reader gets pretty drunk

notes ✩ popping in to mention that i’m also posting this on ao3 under the same name <33

⇦ chapters ⇨

The smell of pizza and wings drifts through the apartment, making your stomach growl as you sink into the couch. You’d just gotten home from a tutoring session that went by surprisingly smoothly. Vi plops down beside you, tossing you a plate before grabbing a slice for herself. She grins, watching you grab your own slice.

"So," she says between bites, "how was class today? And… tutoring, right?"

You exhale, slumping against the cushions. "Long. Mondays drain the life out of me, but yeah. Tutoring wasn’t too bad, honestly. My student actually aced the exam we’ve been studying for, so that’s a win."

Vi smirks. "Bet that felt like a miracle."

"You have no idea," you say, rubbing your eyes sleepily. "What about you? How was your day?"

She leans back, stretching her legs out. "Not bad. Classes were fine, same old, same old. Spent the last hour giving a lesson to one of my students. She’s getting better, but her footwork still needs work. Keeps dropping her guard, which is just begging to get knocked out."

You raise an eyebrow. "Sounds rough."

Vi shrugs, biting into a wing. "Tough love. If she wants to learn, she’s gotta be ready to take a hit. It’s how I got better."

You shake your head, amused. The conversation flows easily after that, carrying on through dinner until eventually, the night winds down.

Vi stands, stretching her arms over her head, muscles flexing under the soft apartment lighting. She lets out a quiet sigh as she relaxes, then turns her gaze on you, a lazy smirk tugging at her lips.

"Alright, I’m heading to bed," she says, stepping closer. Close enough that you can pick up the faint scent of her soap, her subtle woodsy, vanilla scent that just screams her.

But she doesn’t move away.

Instead, she tilts her head slightly, eyes flickering over you in a way that makes your skin warm. "You should get some sleep too, trouble. Hate to see you all worn out like this," she muses, voice dipping just slightly. Then, after a beat, she grins. "Well… maybe not hate it. The tired look is kinda hot on you. Maybe… I should wear you out more often?"

Your brain short-circuits. Did she just…?

You can feel the heat creeping up your neck, but before you can think of a response — hell, before you can even process what kind of response would be appropriate — Vi runs her fingers up your hand, her touch slow, deliberate. Then, with one last amused glance, she steps away, disappearing into her room.

You just stand there. Frozen. Flustered. Why’s the room suddenly so hot?

You let out a slow breath, gripping the edge of the counter before dragging yourself toward your bedroom. Once inside, you shut the door and lean against it, pressing your palms over your face.

God, how does she always leave you so flustered?

Shaking your head, you crawl into bed, snuggling up under the covers. Sleep comes quickly, your body sinking into much-needed rest.

Thud.

You jolt awake, heart hammering at the sudden noise from the living room. Your mind scrambles, still heavy with sleep, but a hint of anxiety creeps in at the thought of something – someone — being out there.

Logically, you know the chances of a break-in are slim to none. The apartment is secure, the locks in place. And besides, there’s a hot, strong woman sleeping in the room across from yours. Nothing would happen to you with Vi around… right?

Still, your nerves buzz as you quietly slip out of bed, stepping toward your door and peering out. The apartment is dim, shadows stretching across the floor under the glow of the streetlights outside. You move toward Vi’s door, knocking softly.

"Vi?"

No answer.

A small, uneasy knot twists in your stomach. You hesitate for only a second before pushing the door open.

"Hey, Vi, did you…?" Your voice trails off.

The room is empty. The bed is untouched, the sheets still smooth from when she made them earlier. Your pulse kicks up a notch. She’s gone. There’s no sign of her anywhere in the apartment.

You quickly retreat to your room, reaching for your phone, ready to call her, but then you hear it. The faint click of the front door opening. Slowly and carefully, you peek out through the crack in your door.

Vi steps inside, moving with the kind of careful precision that screams don’t get caught. She’s trying to be quiet, trying to slip back in unnoticed. 

You watch, stunned, as she closes the door behind her and exhales softly. Her movements are practiced, like this is routine. Like she’s done this before.

She heads your way.

You barely have time to pull back, quietly shutting your door and throwing yourself back into bed. Your heart pounds as you force your breathing to even out.

You hear her bedroom door open, then close. Whatever she was doing, she clearly didn’t want to be caught. She doesn’t owe you an explanation, but… something about this doesn’t sit right.

You swallow hard, staring up at the ceiling. You’ll ask her about it in the morning. For now, you pretend you don’t know. You aren’t even sure why you feel so… odd about the entire situation. Maybe she needed to go help someone with something? Or maybe she needed to clear her head? 

The number of completely normal reasons for her to be out so late should be enough for you to just shut your eyes and get over it. Unfortunately, your brain has other plans and you spend the rest of the night racking your brain for the most plausible explanation.

The next morning, everything feels normal. Or at least, as normal as it can feel after you spent the night convincing yourself of the most out-of-pocket reasons for Vi sneaking out late.

Vi moves around the kitchen, fixing herself a quick breakfast while you go about your usual routine. There’s no sign of the lack of sleep from last night, no stiffness in her movements, no indication that she snuck out at all. If you hadn’t seen it with your own eyes, you’d never suspect a thing.

Still, the question lingers in the back of your mind.

You wait until the moment feels right, casual enough that it won’t raise her defenses. As you rinse out your glass, you finally go for it.

"Hey, so… where were you last night?"

Vi, who had been mid-bite of her toast, pauses just slightly. It’s quick, so quick you might’ve missed it if you weren’t watching her closely.

You continue, keeping your tone light. "I heard something fall, so I went to check, but you were gone."

For a moment, she just chews, like she’s thinking about her answer. Then, with an easy shrug, she swallows and says, "Couldn't sleep. Went out for a run to clear my head."

Her response is smooth, effortless. It should make sense. Vi is an athlete; a late-night run wouldn’t be out of the question. But the way she says it, like it’s been prepared in advance, makes something in your gut twist.

You lean against the counter, arms crossed. "At, like, three in the morning?"

Vi smirks, grabbing her glass. "Yeah. Helps me burn off excess energy." She takes a sip, then raises a brow at you. "Why? You worried about me, cupcake?"

Your face warms at the nickname, but you don’t let it distract you. You give her a look. "I mean, kinda? It was the middle of the night and that’s usually when it gets a little rougher out there. A little risky, don’t you think?"

Vi just chuckles, shaking her head. "I can handle myself."

She says it like it’s obvious, like there’s not a single doubt in her mind. And maybe there isn’t. You exhale, watching her, trying to decide if you should push further. But the way she’s looking at you; half amused, half like she knows you won’t get anything out of her, tells you it’d be a losing battle.

"Just… be careful. Please," you say finally.

Vi grins, reaching over to nudge your arm with her knuckles. "Always am. Don’t worry, cupcake."

Vi’s grin lingers, but there’s something unreadable in her gaze as she watches you. Maybe she’s waiting to see if you’ll push further. Maybe she’s already thinking of a way to shut you down if you do.

But you shake your head at yourself, exhaling a quiet laugh. “A walk makes sense though, sorry. You didn’t even have to answer that — I don’t know what I was thinking.” You awkwardly scratch the back of your neck, suddenly feeling ridiculous for even bringing it up. “You don’t owe me any explanation about where you were, you’re an adult. Just… I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Something flickers across Vi’s face. Something softer, less guarded.

“Yeah?” she muses, tilting her head slightly.

You nod. “Yeah.”

For a second, she just looks at you, like she’s trying to figure you out. Then, with a small smirk, she leans back against the counter, arms crossing over her chest. “That’s sweet, gorgeous. Didn’t know you cared so much.”

Your face heats up immediately. “I—I don’t—”

Vi laughs, pushing off the counter and stretching her arms over her head. “Relax, I’m messing with you,” she teases. “But really, I appreciate it.”

“You are… a menace, Violet,” I huff, turning off the sink as I finish cleaning my dishes. It’s quick and almost unnoticeable but Vi pauses, her cheeks flushing a soft shade of pink at the sound of her name coming from your lips. Normally she preferred Vi over anything but there’s just something about the way you sound saying her name. Violet. 

“Yeah, you love it, cupcake.”

She sends you a wink, playing off her own flustered reaction, before grabbing her glass and strolling off. She  leaves you standing there, heart hammering, still trying to process the way she always manages to leave you flustered.

A few more months of living with Vi, and the pattern is impossible to ignore.

She sneaks out often, seemingly always at night, always returning at some ungodly hour, trying – and failing – to act like she’d been there the whole time. By now, you know the signs. The way her door creaks open around 1 AM. The barely-there sound of her footsteps sneaking through the apartment. The quiet shuffle of the front door unlocking, then locking again. And then, without fail, she stumbles back in around 4 AM, sore and bruised in ways she never was the night before.

You’d let it go before. But now? Now it’s getting worrisome. You were scared she was doing something that could get her seriously hurt. Vander did say she could get herself into trouble sometimes. Was this it?

It’s the weekend, and the two of you are sitting on the couch, controllers in hand, having just finished a few intense rounds of a video game. Vi stretches, letting out a satisfied groan, then tosses her controller onto the coffee table.

“Damn, trouble, I almost had you that time.”

“You really didn’t, Violet,” you tease, nudging her with your knee.

Vi lets out an almost bashful laugh, turning her attention to the controller in her hand in an attempt to hide the blush that burns along her cheeks. She sets the controller on the coffee table, about to get up and head to her room, but you stop her before she can.

“Hey, Vi? Can we talk… please?”

She pauses, brow raising slightly, before flopping back down onto the couch beside you. “That sounds serious.”

You hesitate, shifting slightly. “So… you remember that night a few months ago? When you were out super late and I asked about it, and you said you were on a walk?”

Vi leans back, giving you a slow nod, like she knows where this is going.

You take a breath. “That… wasn’t true, was it?”

A flicker of something unreadable flashes in her eyes, but she keeps her expression neutral.

“You’re out nearly every weekend, Vi. You always come back late, sometimes looking like you got into something you shouldn’t have.” You look at her earnestly. “I’m not asking you to tell me everything, I just… I just wanna know that you’re safe. That you’re not in any danger or doing something that could get you seriously hurt — it’s honestly kind of freaking me out, not knowing what you’re up to or if you’re alright.”

For a moment, she says nothing. Her brows are furrowed, her lower lip tugged between her teeth as she anxiously chews at it. Then, a slow, sheepish smile tugs at her lips.

“Oh! You… noticed that, huh?” She lets out a short, awkward laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. “Look, it’s not what it looks like. I just… I like to go clubbing sometimes. A lot. Super late.”

You blink. 

“Clubbing?”

Vi shrugs, forcing an easy grin. “Yeah. It’s kind of a guilty pleasure of mine. I like blowing off steam after a long week. Just dancing, drinking, y’know, nothing too wild.” She chuckles, shaking her head. “I sneak around ‘cause I don’t wanna wake you or convince you I’m some kind of party animal or whatever, but I guess I’m not too good at that, huh?”

It’s obviously a lie. There’s something about the way she says it, like she’s testing whether you’ll buy it or not. But you don’t comment on it. You figure, when she’s ready she’ll tell you.

Vi leans in slightly, eyes scanning your face. “Hey, actually… why don’t I show you? The club, I mean.”

You blink. “What?”

“If you don’t believe me, come with me tomorrow night,” she says, voice laced with amusement. “I’ll prove it to you. C’mon, cupcake.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, weighing the offer. If she’s lying, then maybe this is a chance to find out what she’s really up to. And if she’s telling the truth… well, maybe a night out with Vi wouldn’t be the worst thing.

“…Alright,” you say finally, crossing your arms. “But if I end up hating it, you owe me dessert or something.”

Vi smirks, eyes glinting with something playful. “Deal.”

She pushes herself up from the couch, stretching her arms over her head. “Guess you better make sure you have something to wear,” she teases, casting a lingering glance over you before heading toward her room. “Not that you won’t look hot no matter what you wear.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t fight the warmth creeping up your neck.

The next night, you stand in front of your mirror, smoothing your hands over your dress. It’s black, short, and hugs your body just right. Maybe a little too right. It makes you wonder why you’d even agreed to this? You’re not used to dressing like this, but if Vi is dragging you out to a club, you might as well look the part. The boots you slide on add just the right amount of edge, balancing out your outfit.

You take a steadying breath before stepping back, tilting your head as you take in your reflection. It’s fine. Totally fine. It’s just a club, and it’s just Vi. Nothing to freak out about.

Then there’s a knock on your door.

"You ready, trouble?" Vi’s voice is casual, but there’s something in her tone. Something smooth and expectant that sends a shiver down your spine. You swallow, clearing your throat before opening the door.

And you immediately regret it.

Vi is standing there, leaning against the frame like she owns the place. She’s got on a tight white top, black ripped jeans that sit just right on her hips, and of course, her usual leather jacket. Her hair has gotten long — or at least, longer than it was when you first met — strands falling past her sharp jawline, and her usual cocky smirk is nowhere to be found.

Because she’s staring at you. Hard.

Her gaze starts at your face, then drops lower, trailing down the curve of your dress, lingering on the way it clings to you. She shifts slightly, jaw tightening, before wetting her lips.

“Damn,” she mutters, voice a little rougher than usual.

Heat floods your face. "What? Is it bad? Should I change?"

“No! Fuck, no.” Vi lets out a slow breath, shaking her head like she’s trying to clear it. ”Don’t change. It’s nothing, just… shit, hot stuff, you tryna kill me?"

Your stomach flips, but you cross your arms, feigning nonchalance. "Hot stuff? Really?"

Vi pushes off the doorframe, stepping in closer — far closer than she needs to. "Absolutely." Her voice is low, almost teasing, but there’s something else in it too, something that makes your breath hitch.

You huff out a laugh, trying to ignore the way her presence sends sparks across your skin. “I could say the same about you.” Your eyes flick down, taking in her outfit. How the snug white top stretches across her chest, the way her jacket frames her broad shoulders. You shake your head, looking back up at her. “You don’t even have to try, do you, Violet?”

Vi grins, shifting her weight. “Oh, but I definitely did tonight.”

Something shifts between you. The air thickens, crackling with an energy neither of you are acknowledging, but both of you are feeling. You can see it in the way Vi's eyes darken slightly, the way her fingers twitch like she wants to reach out.

For a split second, it almost feels like she will.

But then she clears her throat, stepping back. "C’mon, hot stuff," she says, the usual teasing lilt returning to her voice. "Let’s go have some fun, hmm?"

And just like that, the moment passes, but the heat lingers. You take a steadying breath before following her out the door, heart pounding.

About twenty minutes later, you step into the club, the heavy bass vibrating through your chest, flashing lights casting neon streaks over the sea of bodies moving together in rhythm. The air is thick with the scent of sweat, alcohol, and something sweet. It’s a scene you’re not quite used to, a far cry from the quiet comfort of your shared apartment.

But Vi is right beside you. And somehow, that makes it okay.

She catches the slight hesitation in your eyes as you take it all in, her grip tightening around your hand just enough to ground you. Then she leans in, her lips brushing against the shell of your ear as she murmurs, “Stick with me, okay? I won't let anything happen to you.”

The promise in her voice, low and steady, sends a shiver down your spine. Maybe it’s the warmth of her breath against your skin, or the way she keeps you close, the firm press of her body against yours as she maneuvers you both through the crowd.

Vi knows this place. It’s obvious in the way the bouncers nod at her in recognition, parting the way without question. The way she moves, effortless and in control. The way people watch her, some with curiosity, others with something deeper; respect, admiration, maybe even intimidation.

But Vi doesn’t pay them any mind. Her focus is entirely on you. She feels a rush of pride having you here with her, knowing that, at least for tonight, you’re hers.

When you reach the bar, Vi turns to face you, her blue-grey eyes glinting under the neon glow, something playful and dark swirling in them. Her lips curl into a slow, teasing grin.

“What can I get you to drink, babe?”

Your heart stutters in your chest. Maybe it’s the pet name, or the way her voice drops just enough to make the question feel like something more than casual.

You exhale, pretending she doesn’t affect you as much as she does. “Well… I don’t have class tomorrow, so… shots? I’m down for whatever.”

Vi chuckles, stepping even closer, her presence all-consuming. “That’s what I like to hear.”

You barely register her waving down the bartender because her hand rests on your knee, casual and possessive all at once, her thumb tracing absentminded circles against your skin. It’s nothing, really. Just a touch. But it sets you on fire.

And by the look in Vi’s eyes, she knows exactly what she’s doing.

After a few shots, the club’s neon lights seem warmer, the bass vibrating through your chest like a second heartbeat. You’re not drunk, not really, but the alcohol has softened the edges of everything, making you bolder, making Vi’s presence beside you feel even more electrifying.

She’s close, closer than she’s been all night. Her hand still rests on your knee, fingers idly tracing patterns against the fabric of your dress your bare thigh. Every brush of her skin against yours sends a thrill down your spine, and you don’t think she even realizes what she’s doing to you. Or maybe she does.

Vi smirks, tilting her head as she watches you. “So tell me about yourself, trouble,” she murmurs, voice dipping into something dangerously smooth, “not the stuff i already know — the stuff you wouldn’t just tell anyone. You ever do anything… crazy? Something wild? Something worthy of your nickname?”

You blink at her, cheeks already warm from the drinks and the way she’s looking at you. “Depends on what you mean by wild,” you say, swirling the rim of your shot glass.

Vi leans in slightly, her smirk deepening. “Surprise me.”

The alcohol clouds your judgment just enough to let the words slip free before you can second-guess them. “Well… there was this one time when I was eighteen. I snuck a girl I was seeing into my room so we could… y’know.”

Vi raises an eyebrow, amused. “Y’know?” she echoes, her lips twitching.

You roll your eyes, feeling your face heat. “Shut up, don’t make me spell it out.”

Vi chuckles, her fingers drumming lightly against your thigh as her hand slowly inches up your bare leg. “So? Did you get away with it?”

You huff out a laugh, shaking your head. “Not even close. My parents caught us. But after the night I’d had, I didn’t even care.”

The second the confession leaves your lips, you realize how easily you just handed Vi that piece of information. You snap your mouth shut, your stomach flipping with regret.

Vi, of course, looks absolutely delighted. “Damn, trouble,” she drawls, reaching for another shot. “Guess the nickname does fit, huh?”

You groan, grabbing your own shot just to avoid her gaze. “I’m not—”

Vi hums, unconvinced, tipping her glass back effortlessly. When she sets it down, she leans in, her breath warm against your skin. “Maybe not anymore,” she muses, her voice like a slow burn. “But I bet I could change that.”

Your breath catches.

A few shots later, you’re practically floating. Your skin tingles, your cheeks are flushed, and your thigh feels electric from the slow, teasing strokes of Vi’s hand beneath your dress. Her hand had gotten further up as the night went on, sending sparks through your entire body.  You’re caught up in conversation, half words, half laughter, all drowned in the warmth of her presence, when a familiar beat pulses through the club speakers.

“Oh, fuck, I love this song!” you perk up, eyes lighting up with excitement.

Vi smirks, giving your thigh one last slow squeeze before pulling her hand away. “Yeah?” she murmurs, standing to her full height. Then, with an outstretched hand and a glint in her eye, she challenges, “Come dance with me, then, gorgeous.”

You don’t hesitate.

The second your fingers lace with hers, Vi tugs you onto the dance floor, weaving through the crowd like she’s done this a million times before. The bass vibrates beneath your feet, bodies pressing in from every side, but none of it matters. Not when Vi suddenly spins you around and pulls you flush against her, your back meeting the firm heat of her front.

Her hands find your waist, fingers splayed wide, keeping you close as she starts to move. A slow grind, perfectly in sync with the pulsing rhythm. Her breath ghosts against your ear, hot and teasing.

“Just follow my lead,” she murmurs, her lips grazing the sensitive skin beneath your ear.

Your body responds before your brain even catches up. You match her movements effortlessly, hips swaying in perfect rhythm with hers. Her hands roam over your curves, guiding you with every shift and roll of your body against hers. The club fades away; no flashing lights, no lingering gazes, just the heat between you and Vi, the way she feels like she was made to hold you like this.

If it weren’t for the alcohol blurring every trace of your thoughts, you’d be full-on panicking. Because this? This is so far beyond platonic. But that thought never even has a chance to take root. All you can focus on is the song vibrating through your chest and Vi’s hands keeping you pressed so deliciously close.

Then, she twirls you around, your chest colliding with hers.

Your breath catches, arms instinctively looping around her neck, and fuck, she’s so close. Every inch of her is against you, her grip firm at your waist, her breath fanning across your lips. The tension thrums like a live wire between you, thick enough to drown in.

“You’re…” Your words trail off as your head tilts, resting against her shoulder, your lips just barely brushing the skin of her neck. “You’re so hot, Violet,” you murmur, your voice slow and dreamy, drunk on liquor and Vi all at once.

Her fingers flex at your waist, gripping you tighter. And before you can even think — before you can question yourself — your lips graze her neck in the lightest, briefest kiss.

It’s barely a whisper of contact. Soft. Fleeting. But it sets something off in Vi.

Her grip tightens. For a moment, Vi is stunned, her body stiffening as your lips trail up her neck. She squeezes your hips, then her hand finds the back of your neck, tugging you forward to press your lips against hers. The kiss is a shock, like a jolt of electricity crackling down her spine, setting every nerve ending alight. But the surprise is fleeting, melting away as a wave of something deeper, something raw and intoxicating, washes over her.

Her eyes flutter shut as she gives in, her body relaxing, molding against yours as she returns the kiss with slow, deliberate hunger. One hand slides into your hair, fingers tangling through the strands as she tugs you impossibly closer. A low, deep sound rumbles in her throat, barely audible over the pulsing music, but it’s there. A sound of want, of need.

She tastes the lingering tang of alcohol on your lips, but beneath it, there’s something else, something that’s purely you, and it’s addicting. The heat of your body against hers, the press of your curves against her lean frame, has her pressing in deeper, her free hand gripping your waist, anchoring herself to the moment.

When the kiss finally breaks, Vi pulls back just slightly, her breath coming hard and uneven. Her blue-gray eyes are dark and lidded, pupils blown wide with something neither of you are ready to name. Her lips are parted, still tingling from the ghost of your touch, and for a moment, it’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me, baby.”

Just as you're about to pull Vi in for more, a sharp, mocking voice cuts through the haze.

"Seriously, Vi? Her?" the girl scoffs, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she eyes you up and down, her jealousy barely masked by a smirk. You’re not quite thinking straight but you’re fairly certain this girl is in your psych class. "Didn’t think you’d go for her type. Thought you liked a challenge."

Vi lets out a slow breath, her grip on your waist tightening for just a second before she turns, her expression unreadable. "Savi," she says flatly, "you really gotta move on. It’s getting sad."

Savi huffs a laugh, tilting her head as she eyes Vi with a smirk. “Move on? Please. I just didn’t realize you were into desperation.” Her gaze flicks to you, full of thinly veiled disdain. “Guess everyone has their weaknesses, huh?”

Vi’s jaw flexes, but she doesn’t take the bait. Instead, she exhales sharply through her nose before turning back to you. “C’mon, baby. Let’s head back home before our night’s completely ruined.” Her voice is steady, but you can feel the irritation thrumming beneath her words.

As Vi starts to lead you away, Savi calls out one last time, her voice dripping with amusement. “That’s cute, you know. You two playing house together.” She laughs, shaking her head. “Bet that’ll end well.”

Vi doesn’t even glance back, but you feel the way her muscles tense under your touch, her grip on your waist just a little firmer as she guides you toward the exit.

By the time you both step out of the club, the night air hitting your skin, Vi seems completely sobered up. You, on the other hand, are still feeling the effects of the alcohol, your movements a little slower, your thoughts a little hazy.

Vi stays close the entire ride home, her touch never straying too far — her knee brushing against yours, her hand on your thigh, her fingers occasionally grazing your own. It’s grounding, comforting, and you lean into it without a second thought.

When you finally make it back to your apartment, Vi gently guides you to sit on the couch before disappearing into the kitchen. A moment later, she’s pressing a glass of water into your hands, sitting beside you with an expectant look. “Drink,” she says simply.

You take a few slow sips before glancing at her. “So… Savi,” you start, watching the way Vi’s expression immediately shifts to irritation. “What’s her deal?”

Vi exhales, running a hand through her hair. “She’s just some girl who doesn’t seem to get that I’m not into her,” she says, shaking her head. “I turned her down nicely the first time, but she doesn’t know when to quit. She’s convinced I’m playing hard to get or whatever and that I’m desperate for her attention.”

You hum, taking another sip of water before meeting Vi’s gaze. “You don’t seem to mind my attention, Violet,” you point out, a teasing edge to your voice. The alcohol had clearly not worn off.

Vi smirks. “That’s different, trouble,” she murmurs.

Your body moves before your mind fully catches up, the alcohol still clouding your better judgment. You straddle her lap, hands resting on her shoulders as you lean in, your lips just a breath away from hers. “Different how?” you whisper.

Vi inhales sharply, her hands instinctively finding your waist, her grip firm but not pulling you closer. For a moment, she looks tempted, her eyes flickering to your lips. But then, with a reluctant groan, she pulls back just enough to put space between you. “Not like this,” she murmurs. “I’m not doing this while you’re drunk.”

You pout slightly, but Vi just chuckles, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “But,” she continues, her voice low and promising, “if you wake up tomorrow, sober, and you still want me?” Her fingers trace absent patterns against your waist, sending a shiver down your spine. “Then, sweetheart… I’m all yours.”

“Promise?” you mumble, resting your head on her shoulder. She lets out a soft laugh and you feel her lips press against your forehead.

“Promise.”

As sleep tugs at your eyelids, you barely register the way your body sags against Vi’s. Your head rests against her shoulder, the warmth of her body lulling you closer to unconsciousness. Vi lets out a soft chuckle, shaking her head.

"Alright, sweetheart," she murmurs, effortlessly slipping her arms beneath you. Before you can even protest — not that you have the energy to — she lifts you into her arms with ease.

You hum something incoherent, nuzzling closer into her as she carries you to your room. Vi nudges the door open with her foot before gently laying you down onto your bed. As she pulls the blanket over you, her gaze lingers on your face, softening. With a quiet sigh, she brushes her knuckles lightly against your cheek before stepping away.

tags ✩ @jupitism @fungalinfectionyeast @mk-a-1 @rhian88 @baylegend6 @lovely-wisteria @antobooh @arahiraaai @vxtanne31 @starletfemme @daughterofthemoons-stuff @rosesgaloree @sillyloafff @mellohatesyou @violetwifey @ilysupercorp @eriiwaii @elliesngirl @avalovesmus1c @pryncess123

[seeingivy]

standards

actor eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting fic

an: @deusfoundry made a very passionate reblog about method acting sasha and levi. had to serve what I could, I hope you like it!!!

--

I’ll just meet you there, it’ll give me time to think. 

You look across the courtyard and it fills your stomach with an unnecessary amount of dread. 

Eren’s sitting there, Maya lazily strung across his lap while Marco makes an unruly mess of his hair. You note that Eren doesn’t even pay notice to either of them, because he’s too deep in the conversation that he’s having with Jean and Mikasa. 

You note that his hair is getting too long and that it’ll be time to cut it soon, but even that would be awkward. To confront him about it, to have him sit near the sink and cut it for him – that you’d probably inevitably fight after the fact because he would bring it up again, trying so needlessly to figure out why you were so put off by something so stupid. 

“Is there any reason that you and Eren arrived separately?” 

You shake your focus out of the image to find Sasha and Connie sitting at your side, noting the particularly nosy looks on their faces, as you drop your hands to your lap. You’ve made a mess of the floral centerpiece that was at your table, now shredded to a mix of petals and stems. 

You wonder if Connie’s nasal cannula ever gets uncomfortable. If he’s really in pain after the transplant and not telling anyone. 

“Is there any reason that you’re worrying about me at your anniversary party?” you ask. 

“There’s only one thing more riveting than talking to Niccolo at a dinner party. Finding out why our golden couple hasn’t even spared each other one glance tonight.” Sasha jokes, reaching for one of the leftover potato wedges on your plate and securing it between her fingers. 

You roll your eyes. Some golden couple the two of you were. 

“Even your kids didn’t say hi to you when they walked in. That’s major.” Connie responds. 

“They don’t have to say hi to me when they walk in. We live together, Connie.” 

Connie shakes his head, slamming the bottom of his cane against the floor. 

You wonder if he’s making enough progress that’s up to par with how long it’s been since the transplant. Your sneaking suspicion is that he hasn’t and you can’t help but wonder if he’ll give up soon. 

“Maybe other kids. Yours are always split between you and Eren. And Eren always stops to talk to you. Poor guy can’t get enough, which I don’t understand.” Connie adds. 

You elbow Connie in the side, earning you an irritated laugh, before you pinch your eyes, looking back over to where Eren and Jean are now talking in hushed voices – which you’re certain, has to be about you. Granted, you weren’t doing anything too different, but you can’t help but wonder if Eren is as reserved about discussing it as you are with them. 

“If you must know, Eren and I are having a little disagreement.” you respond. 

You note that you can see the two of them grin at each other in your peripheral vision – meaning that almost everyone must have noted at this point that you and Eren were acting strange. 

They were the only ones who were able to muster up the courage to come ask. Granted, the nosy schemers had picked perfectly. It was Sasha’s party and Connie had just gotten out of the impossible. You’d feel bad if you didn’t indulge. 

“How little? Pineapple on pizza? Parking car in the driveway?” Sasha asks. 

You shake your head. 

“Eren wants to get one of those…those genome tests to see what diseases we could be predisposed to.” you respond. 

“Who? Marco and Maya?” Connie asks. 

You shake your head. 

“All of us. Me, him, and the kids. He’s even trying to convince Falco and Gabi to do it. If you talk to him for long enough, he’ll probably talk to you about it too. He just found out about it on the internet and now he feels like he has to know.” you respond. 

“And you’re fighting about it because…?” Sasha asks. 

You feel a weight on the back of your chair, only to look directly up and find Levi staring down at you, a notably irritated look on his face. 

“Are you guys talking about why they showed up separately?” Levi asks. 

“No.” you respond. 

“Yes.” Connie and Sasha respond. 

Levi gives you a snide look before pulling up a chair and listening into the conversation. Connie spares almost no time – and you notice that while he just had open heart surgery a month ago, his energy levels do not reflect that in the slightest. 

It was a good sign. 

“Y/N just said that Eren wants to get one of those genome tests that tell you which diseases that you’re going to be predisposed to. And they’re arguing because Y/N doesn’t want any of them to do it.” Connie states. 

“And you argued so bad that you showed up separately? Over a dumb test?” Levi asks. 

You frown. 

“You don’t have to be so patronizing, Levi.” Sasha scolds. 

“I’m not being patronizing. Surely it can’t be that.” 

Sasha shoots him a menacing glare to which Levi puts his hands up, like he’s surrendering before gesturing for you to respond. 

“Well, that’s not far from it. We did argue so bad that we showed up separately. He said that he would meet me there because it would give him time to think. And well, that just made me even more mad because he…” 

You pause. 

It’s because he left without kissing you goodbye. 

“It’s stupid. The entire thing is stupid and it doesn’t matter.” you respond. 

Sasha gives Connie and Levi a look, before the two of them shoot an equally questioning look back at them. She clears her throat, before shooting you all a polite smile. 

“I think you have to use the bathroom, Levi. You should help him, Connie.” Sasha states. 

Levi glares at her. “And why would I need his help?”

Sasha reaches forward and pinches his arm. 

“Because you’re pushing fifty, grandpa. Get a move on.” Sasha responds. 

Levi and Connie begrudgingly oblige and you can tell from the look on their face that they’re expecting a full report back when Sasha wrangles the truth out of you. But you know her better and from the look on her face, you can tell there’s no intention to share without your permission anyways. 

Sasha scoots her chair closer to yours, looping her arm in through yours and resting her cheek on your shoulder. 

“You know me and Niccolo fight too, you know?” she murmurs. 

“About what type of pasta he’s making for dinner?” you ask. 

“Mostly. But other stuff too. We’re trying to decide how many kids to have…if we should have any.” Sasha murmurs. 

You widen your eyes. 

“You’re thinking about not having any?” 

Sasha shrugs. 

“I don’t know. I don’t feel particularly strong about it right now. Maybe I’ll change my mind later but…I feel like we already have a hundred kids around. That kind of fulfills the need for me.” Sasha adds. 

You shrug. 

“You don’t have to have them. I mean, we probably all don’t help since we all have them, but…but Levi didn’t have any either and he’s just fine.” you respond. 

“I guess.” Sasha responds. 

You pause. 

“You don’t sound very convinced.” 

“Levi couldn’t have them and he really wanted to. I don’t want to deprive Niccolo when we are lucky enough to have them if we wanted, but I just don’t…want them. That might make me sound like a bad person but I just don’t. I like our life how it is and it’s enough for me. I don't want to deprive some kid of love if that’s not what I’m ready for right now.” 

You interlock your fingers with hers. 

“That definitely does not make you a bad person. I’d argue it makes you a great one. What does Niccolo say?” 

Sasha sighs. 

“He’s so understanding. I know he wants them badly but he knows that it’s my choice since I’m the one who has to carry the baby and I’d probably have to be the one to take off work with Niccolo’s schedule. But that almost makes me feel worse, like…like because he’s so understanding I should just give in and do it, you know?”

You hum in response. 

“I know but also I don’t. It’s a basic thing for him to agree with whatever you decide when you’re the one going to be doing it. You also don’t have to reciprocate a nice act just because he did one for you first.” you respond. 

Sasha laughs. 

“You sound like Levi.” Sasha responds. 

“He has his moments.” 

Sasha pushes off your shoulder, cheeks lightly dusted pink as she hikes her legs to her chest and pulling the fabric around her ankles. 

“Your turn.” 

You sigh. 

“You know, you really don’t have to reciprocate a nice action with another one. I can just hear you talk about you and Niccolo and not have to talk about me and Eren.” you joke. 

Sasha reaches forward and pinches your cheek. 

“But you should. Come on.” Sasha responds. 

You mimic her motions, resting your cheek against her shoulder and breathing in the scent of her minty perfume. 

“I really don’t want to do this test.” you respond. 

“I mean. I gathered that much.” Sasha responds, sarcastically. 

You elbow her in the side, earning you a laugh from her, before looking back over at Eren, now braiding the ends of Maya’s hair with Connie at his side. 

“Eren wants to take the test because he thinks it’s interesting. He’s wondering if the Alzheimer’s from his grandfather's side can be seen in his genes or tendencies for liver disease and what not. He…he’s more intrigued by the science of it all. What country and regions our ancestors are from.” 

“And you…

“And it scares me. What if Eren does have Alzheimer’s from his grandfather's side? I’m going to start obsessively Googling how I can make him keep his mind sharp. I’m going to control Marco and Maya’s diets because I’m scared they’ll get heart failure or kidney stones or…or anything.” 

You pause. 

“I already worry enough that they’re going to die when I leave them alone. If they leave the house and I’m not there. I don’t need to sit there worrying about it every waking moment and this…this is basically putting the thought in my head.” 

Sasha tilts her head to the side. 

“I’m gathering Eren doesn’t know this part.” 

You sink down into the chair. 

“Yeah. Kind of been avoiding telling him” 

“Why?”

You sigh, turning to your side and shuffling your legs onto the seat. You can’t help but lower your voice as you whisper. 

“Because Eren and I are going to have a real fight then.” 

“A real fight?” 

“Because I’ve been avoiding him this entire time and he’ll be upset that I did this over something I should have just told him. Eren told me I had nothing to be scared about and it might be better for me if I just do the test or just tell him what’s bothering me and….and I don’t know what it is but I just can’t.” 

Sasha nods. 

“He thinks I’m making a really big deal about the whole genome test thing because he doesn’t know why. And rightfully so because…because I would be annoyed about this entire thing being blown out of proportion when it’s not that deep but…but it is to me. And it’s not his fault that he doesn’t know but I don’t want to tell him so I just…don’t talk about it.” 

Sasha hums in response. 

“That must be really frustrating for him. Seeing you shut down and trying to figure out why.” 

“I know.” you whisper. 

“It must be frustrating for you to. Wanting to open up but also protect yourself.” Sasha adds. 

You shrug. 

“Why are the kids not talking to you?” Sasha asks. 

“I guess I shut them out too. But I don’t want them to side with me because then Eren will be alone…when I’m already shutting him out to begin with. I know having them be around him all the time, maybe more so than usual is helping.” 

Sasha rolls his eyes. 

“I’m sure it doesn’t. He would hate to see that you’re alone and upset. Especially when you’re so attached to Maya and Marco.” 

You shake your head. 

“I just think he’s at his wits end since it’s so…erratic lately. Unstable. I cried so hard before I came here because he left the house without saying goodbye. I couldn’t even get in the car and drive here before I knew that he made it here safely because I would be so upset if something happened to them.” 

Sasha lifts one of her hands, tangling through the knots at the ends of your hair. 

“You know, there’s a normal amount of worry and a point where it becomes a little too much. You can’t possibly live while being that stressed out all the time.” Sasha murmurs. 

“I know. I’m trying to figure it out.” 

Sasha leans back, giving you a bright smile. 

“And you will.” 

--

At the end of the party, almost everyone was  slumped on Mikasa and Jean’s couches, eyes lidded shut in the cool air of the summer. You note that Marco and Maya are both in Jean’s lap now, Eren and Connie deep in conversation. 

Connie got his drama fix elsewhere. 

“Mind if I sit here?” 

You look up to find Levi at your side, hands braced against the back of the chair. 

“Go ahead, grandpa.” you respond, gesturing towards the open chair. 

“I’m not that much older than you.” Levi responds. 

You smile. 

“I know. I’m just teasing.” 

Levi leans against the chair, his eyes trained in the exact same spot as you. You can tell that he’s waiting for you to bite the bullet, only because you’re positive he wouldn’t have approached you the way he did if he didn’t. 

“How much did Sasha tell you?” you ask. 

Levi shakes his head. 

“Sasha didn’t tell me anything.” 

“And that would mean hell froze over. She can’t keep anything from you. And even if she did have the capabilities of keeping a secret, she’d never keep one from you.” 

Levi smiles. Like he’s touched. 

“I believe she had very sound reasoning to tell me.” Levi responds. 

You snort. 

“And what’s that?” 

“Sasha’s feeling particularly sentimental. Recalling a time when a friend of hers went and told me something that she maybe should have kept to herself, just so I could come help out when it was needed.” 

You tilt your head to the side. 

“What?” 

“Do you really not remember?” Levi asks. 

You shrug. 

“I remember that it was the dead of the night and you knocked on my door. Panting. You were really worked up, but that wasn’t unusual for you. What was unusual was that you were talking about someone else. About how Sasha didn’t think that she was pretty, that you wanted her to know how special she was, and you…” 

“I asked you to take her on a date. Because I couldn’t think of anyone else who could without upsetting someone. I couldn’t have Connie burping on her all night so it wouldn’t be ideal.” you respond. 

Levi smiles. 

“You know that meant a lot to her?” Levi asks. 

“I mean, I guess. I would imagine that it would mean a lot to me if I felt the way she did too.” you murmur. 

Levi shakes her head. 

“When I took Sasha on that date, I kind of took her on three dates in one. I told her that there’s lots of different things that you can do. Took her to an escape room that we just did together, just so we could try something new. She was absolutely horrible at it. At one point, she got so bored of looking for the keys that she just watched me do the entire thing and ate the snacks that she had in her bag.” 

You smile. 

“I asked her what her favorite thing to do is and she said eating, so we made dinner together.” 

“Oh god.” 

“Exactly. She broke my Instant Pot. One of the first things she did when I bought my new house was send me two, just so I could have a backup. As if I’d ever let her into my kitchen again.” 

You snort. 

“You sound like Eren talking about me.” 

“Well, you’re both particularly inept at these type of things.” 

You shoot Levi a glare. 

“And after that we…we talked about all the deep stuff for a lack of a better word. She recounted exactly what you had told me, but in greater detail. About how she was scared that she was going to end up alone. That no one was ever going to love her.” 

You lean back in your chair. And note that Levi almost seems like he’s choking up. 

“I made it a point to Sasha that she should have all three things in whoever she picks in the future. Someone that she could try new things with, just to get out of her comfort zone. Someone that she can communicate with, even if it’s something as simple as who is making what part of the meal. And most importantly, someone she can share her burdens with. No matter how dumb she thinks they are. At the very least, someone who makes her believe like she can and is loved. That at the very least, it’s one of the easiest things to do once you get to know her.” 

You smile. 

“You know she adores you, right?” 

Levi shakes his head. Still too stoic to confront it head first. 

“So you took Sasha to an escape room to tell her that but you’re giving me the Sparknotes?” you groan. 

Levi smiles. 

“I’d imagine that Eren would find it inexplicably strange when I was take his wife on a date.” 

You smile. 

“That’s fair.” 

You shrug. And you’re not sure why, but it makes the tears bubble up in your eyes, until they’re freely bubbling down the side of your face. 

“It’s just dumb. How am I supposed to tell him I’m upset because he left home without kissing me goodbye? That’s ridiculous.” 

It’s right at that moment that you feel it, a waft of the cold air before there’s a pair of lips pressing a kiss to the side of your cheek. You can immediately clock from the musky smell that it’s Eren, as he’s now resting his head on your chin, your cheeks flush together. 

“Exactly like that. You’re supposed to tell me exactly like that, sweetheart.” Eren murmurs. 

You look to your side and glare at Levi. 

“In my defense, I told him to wait.” Levi responds. 

“And I refuse to do that when she starts crying.” Eren responds, shooting him a glare.

Levi takes Eren’s very stern hint, before shooting you a polite smile and pushing out of his chair, where Sasha’s waiting at the end of the table. The two of them give you bright, bright smiles as they link their arms together and walk off towards the other side of the garden. 

Eren takes the empty chair, making it a point to pull it extremely close to yours, as he gestures for you to lean against him. You oblige, taking in his sweet smell once again as he brings his hand up to your hair and rubs circles into the sweet point on your neck. 

He reaches forward, soft fingers wiping away the wetness on your cheek. 

“Do you have something you want to tell me?” Eren asks. 

You shake your head. 

“I mean. Not really.” 

Eren gives you a smile that sends a wave of relief through you. 

“You’re just crying about how much you love Sasha?” 

“Basically. She’s a really good friend, you know?” 

Eren smiles, before pressing another kiss to your hairline. 

“A really good friend. She staged an entire intervention and gave me a lecture.” 

“Really?” 

“Well. She staged the intervention with Levi. And facilitated the lecture Levi gave me. Said it would be scarier if it came from him.”  

“Was it?” 

“Oh, of course.” 

You laugh. 

“It was warranted. Levi doesn’t play about his girls. Granted that you’re both involved, he’s going to feel all types of ways.” 

You smile. You look back towards the end of the garden, at the two of them sitting near the fireplace – at the clear disdain Levi has for the sticky smores that she’s eating. 

“I didn’t know that you asked Levi to take Sasha on a date. Did he do that for you?” Eren asks. 

You shake your head. 

“He just gave me the highlights. But I didn’t really need his wisdom until now, so it makes sense.” 

Eren leans forward. 

“I’d love to hear about this wisdom.” 

“You know. About trying new things with your partner, sharing responsibilities and burdens and all that.” 

Eren grins. 

“Did you hear it?” 

“I mean, obviously. I’m repeating it to you now, aren’t I?” 

Eren shakes his head, before reaching forward to tuck your hair behind your ear. You lift his hand and press a kiss to his knuckles. 

“I mean, are you ready to put that wisdom to use?” Eren asks.

You shrug. 

“I suppose I have to now.” 

“I mean, you don’t have to. I’m never going to force you to share something with me. But I do want you to know that you can tell me. And I know you always have, which makes me just curious why you’re not keen to do it now.” 

You sigh. 

“It’s nothing about you. It’s about me.” 

“I love to hear about you. Do tell.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“You need a haircut.” 

“You can go home and give me one. But right now, you’re deflecting.” Eren responds. 

“Eren.” 

“I know you’re mad I didn’t kiss you before I left. And I really am sorry about that. I’m not even sure how I forgot.” 

You shake your head. 

“I mean, you were upset with me. I wouldn’t want to kiss someone either if I was annoyed.” 

Eren reaches forward and pinches your cheek. 

“That’s the difference between me and you. I could kiss you all the time.” 

“And yet you don’t.” you joke. 

Eren leans forward, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek. And leans right back, giving you a bright smile as he waits for some indication of approval. You shake your head at him, before reaching for his open hand and lock your fingers with his. 

“I’m working on it.” Eren responds. 

There’s a pair of footsteps behind you, Jean and Mikasa with Marco and Maya in their arms with an almost awkward smile. 

“We hate to interrupt a totally great reconciliation that’s going on.” Jean starts. 

“Then don’t.” you respond. 

Jean glares. 

“Shut up. We’re just giving you your kids back since you pawned them off to us.” 

“Maya spent twenty minutes asking me when your cooties would be gone so she could talk to you again. Nice one, Eren.” Mikasa responds. 

You shoot Eren a confused look, before taking Marco from Jean’s arm, readjusting his sleepy head onto your shoulder and giving him a grateful smile. Mikasa does the same with Eren, the two of them squeezing your shoulder before taking their departure. 

“Cooties, Eren?” 

“I told Marco and Maya you were sick and that they shouldn’t bother you. They asked what you were sick with and I couldn’t say something real so I told them that it was cooties. Safe to say that they were horrified.” 

You frown. “Great. Now they think I’m infected.” 

“Sweetheart, it’s a made up disease. I’m sure you’ll live.” Eren deadpans. 

You reach forward, brushing your hair through the matted mess on Marco’s forehead. Eren rests his cheek against the top of Maya’s head, rubbing soft circles into her back. 

“You picked cute outfits.” 

“It took me two hours. You’re way better at this stuff than me.” 

You smile. 

“Do you ever realize how hard it is to do this stuff without me? Because I think about it all the time, how…how hard it would be to do stuff without you.”

“I’m starting to get an idea.” Eren responds. 

“I think about it all the time. I hate doing the laundry because the machine is too tall. And I don’t really like to drive at night. I prefer doing groceries together.” 

“I do too. I can stop you from buying the entire store.” 

“Hey.”

Eren laughs. 

“It’s hard enough to manage those thoughts on my own. It’s hard enough to not think about Marco and Maya like that. And I know it’s not that serious and I’m being a stickler and it’s…it’s not that deep but you would basically be handing me a list of things to worry about everyday.” you respond. 

Eren hums in response. 

“I don’t want to think about you forgetting me. I don’t want to think about Marco and Maya getting surgery like Connie and recovering for so long after the fact. I hate to think you're driving without me because I don’t know if you’re at a really long stoplight or your car stopped there because of something else. I would hate to think that the last thing you and I ever did was fight because I could never get over that. We already spent so much time not talking to each other and I don’t want to do it again.” 

Eren squeezes your hand three times. 

“I would love it if you could have told me that in the first place instead of pulling away.” Eren murmurs. 

“I don’t want to talk about anxiety medication again. I hate that I’m even bringing this up again. I should be over all of it by now. I know logically that telling you will make me feel better but I can’t because sometimes I just don’t want to feel better. I’m…I’m so upset that we spent so much time apart and you were alone. I hate not talking because it just…it just reminds me that the entire period we spent apart was preventable if I wasn’t so stupid. You can’t be like Marco for me because that would be my final straw. And yet I’m here letting it all happen because I just can’t do anything.” 

Eren takes a beat. For a long time, almost like he’s thinking of the right thing to say. And it takes a few minutes, a few quiet minutes of him rubbing circles into your hand, before he figures out what to say. 

“Do you really think I ever got over what happened?” Eren asks. 

“What?”  

“You’re forgetting that I was the one who was horrible to you first. It’s not a particularly easy feeling to live with. Do you even remember what I said?” Eren whispers. 

“Well, I…” 

“Not just to you. To Armin. To Connie. Even Marco, when he was just trying to be nice to me.” Eren responds. 

You pause. 

“I have to remind myself that I can’t necessarily live there anymore. Not in that part of mind. Not when you look to me for support. When I have them to take care of. I don’t want to think about that when you’re all here with me.” 

You smile. 

“I did slap you. That’s considerably bad.” you respond. 

Eren laughs. 

“It didn’t hurt.” he responds. 

“I was wearing rings.” 

“You could never hurt me.” Eren responds. 

“But I did.”  

Eren sighs. 

“You can’t just expect everything that happened to be over for you. It’ll come up when it comes up. Even when you think that it’s long gone. Sometimes you don’t want to pick yourself up. It’s considerably easy when you let us do it for you.” 

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.” 

“It’s hard to pry into your mind sometimes.” Eren shrugs. 

“It’s hard to let people in when I still feel like I’m fifteen and the only person on the outside.” you murmur. 

Maya shuffles around in Eren’s arm, in what has to be an uncomfortable position as Eren secures her against him. 

“I’m not people. Everyone else is on the outside from you and me.” Eren responds. 

“You’re more than people. It’s hard to disappoint you.” 

“You have to know you could never do that.” 

You lean your head against Eren’s. 

“Will you take Maya on a date when she’s old enough?” you ask. 

Eren smiles. 

“I’ll make Levi do it. She’s going to think I’m biased. I am her dad and all. And if she’s your daughter, she’s going to be stubborn and do the opposite of what I say.” 

“Well, then she’ll give you a run for your money. You can reach Levi levels of patience.” 

Eren laughs. 

“For what it’s worth, you’re exactly what Levi described for Sasha. All the qualities you should look for in someone.” 

“I am?” Eren asks, grinning ear to ear. 

“Don’t get a big head.” 

“Do tell.” 

You sigh. 

“You make me try new things and push me out of my comfort zone. Like giving some weird genetic test a chance. At the very least just to stop…stop being so nervous about these types of things.” you murmur. 

“You don’t have to.” 

“It’s just a dumb test. It can’t hurt me, can it?.” 

“Well, whatever it is. We’ll figure it out together. What else?”

“We communicate well. At least when I can muster up the courage to do that.” 

Eren smiles. 

“I have an infinite amount of patience when it comes to you. I waited two years, I can wait a few days.” 

“I’ll try to make it so you don’t have to, Eren.” 

Eren smiles. 

“That would be appreciated.” 

You sigh. 

“You’re the only person I could share this type of stuff with. Responsibilities, burdens. Just hard to remember that you’re all on my side sometimes. I kind of catastrophize to the point where I think that’s not true.” 

Marco’s sleepy voice breaks the conversation. 

“Do you still have cooties?” 

You glare at Eren. 

“No. Go back to sleep.” 

“Oh thank god, sweetheart. I was starting to get sad about it.” Marco responds, eyes still lidded shut against your shoulder. 

“Sounds like we should go home.” Eren states. 

You give him a nod, handing the two of them over to Eren before bidding Sasha and Niccolo your last goodbyes. You can’t help but hold on to Sasha for a little too long, murmuring into her ear. 

“Thanks Sasha. Your help means a lot.” 

And when you pull back, there’s a glisten in her eye. You note that Levi’s watching the two of you, eyes focused as Hange rambles on in the background. 

“It’s nothing you didn’t do for me first, princess.” 

“Just count yourself lucky that you got free food out of it.” 

Sasha smiles. 

“He works for his audience.” 

--

There’s a white envelope waiting on the counter as you cut Eren’s hair. It takes extreme focus – to not think about what’s in there and instead focus on the conversation Eren’s having with Marco and Maya and cutting his hair. 

“Eren. Do you have a favorite color?” Maya asks. 

“My favorite color is your favorite color, sweet pea.” 

Maya glares at Eren. 

“You don’t even know my favorite color.” Maya deadpans. 

Eren shoots you a signal for help, as you mouth purple in the mirror. 

“As if. Your favorite color is purple.” Eren responds. 

“You cheated. Sweetheart told you.” Maya responds. 

You laugh. 

“I did no such thing.” you respond. 

“Maya. You’re not supposed to do that.” Marco murmurs. 

“Do what?” Maya asks. 

“Side with Dad.” Marco whispers. 

You can’t help but laugh as you slip off the last of Eren’s hair, giving him a tap on the shoulder to signify that you’re done. Eren takes the note and immediately reaches for Marco, tickling at his side. 

“Who told you that, you little menace?” 

“She did.” 

You shake your head at Eren, as you reach for the envelope on the counter, and sliding your finger along the closing. You hand the papers over to Eren, who agreed to open them and read them for you. His green eyes dart through all three of the papers, as Marco and Maya tangle themselves in between your legs. 

“You know. I’m unbelievably healthy.” Eren responds. 

“Hilarious.” 

“Really. You can read it for yourself.” 

Eren hands you the papers, three pages worth of a testament to the fact that he just said. Each glaring red text, indicating a negative response fills your heart with joy, especially regarding what you cared about the most. 

His memory. 

Eren gives you a glimmering smile, eyes filled with warm recognition of you, that was promised, at least for the most part, not to fade. 

--

edit: I just realized this was way too similar to the last extra that i wrote but fuck it we ball

taglist: @k0z3me @sugu-love @yihona-san06  @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha  @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @itzmeme @erensmoodygf @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlol @mel-star636 @fvckingeetar @ttalgi @najaemism @ilovekimchi123 @youraggedybitch @xoyumiqls @leafguitar @dreamy-carat @spiidergirlsworld @luvs4kim @levin4nami @florichun @hoonmyluv

[cheeseburgersinparadise]

Okay! Feedist hotel here we goooo

(Anon bc it will only send asks from my main, rip)

I'm always shy at first. The idea that there are people for whom this is just their job would squick me out. So in this fantasy, all the staff are SO into it. Sure, it pays the bills - and they also love what they do.

Me and my partner check in for a two-week stay. Weigh before we leave home and turn up in my tighest clothes that still decently fit. I'm still reserved - until I see how relaxed everyone else is. No full nudity permitted in the lobby areas, dining hall, etc., there's plenty of spaces just for that, but even seeing people all clearly enjoying themselves, from their first steps into feedism to super-sized gainers, all chatting and friendly or keeping to themselves, is enough to start to relax me.

There's a buffet open 24/7, obviously, but my partner can tell I'm still a little on edge. We go to the room first - king-sized reinforced bed with good wooden slats on the headboard, private balcony with hot tub, its own little dining area, an entertainment system but that doesn't hold much interest for me. We unpack a little, make some plans - plenty to do here, after all - and then, insisting I must already be hungry, he leads me down to the buffet.

It runs all day and night but changes up to roughly correspond to mealtimes. We start with the basics, ease into it: a plate full of curry, rice, chips, nuggets; a second helping, now with pizza, onion rings, a heavy tomato pasta; and of course dessert. I'm too full to get to the dessert table myself so I make the mistake of letting my partner go for me. He comes back with a massive dish piled high with warm doughnuts, chocolate brownies, cherry pie - and a can of whipped cream, which I see now are just lined up for people to help themselves to.

He moves his chair beside mine, ready to start feeding me himself, and I tense up - we're in public, normally we keep it to intense eye contact and me rubbing my belly discreetly under the table--

But then I remember where we are. All around us, couples and throuples are feeding each other, lone feedees are chowing down with their shirts rolling up, belts are being undone gleefully.

I force myself to sink into it. Take my partner's hand and guide it to the upper swell of my already-stuffed belly, let him apply a little pressure. I can see him already hard, bulging in his pants, and he's entranced by my belly as he begins to feed me, starting with the doughnuts. They were always his favourite. He sneaks one for himself and I sit up in my chair to kiss it away from him, my own fingers playing with the edge of his love handles. He always insists he doesn't want to gain, but I have a feeling he's not going to come out of this unscathed. Too much of a sweet tooth, too much temptation.

Suddenly, my hesitation is gone. I'm /very/ into this. It takes a while, but he feeds me the whole dish, one bite at a time. I'm moaning with each breath, rutting pathetically in my chair trying to get friction on my t-dick, cheeks flushed - I feel like I'm making a scene, but so is everyone. This is what the feedist hotel is for. Fuck. This is our first meal. We haven't even tried any of the experiences yet.

Fuck.

I'm going to get huge.

... I definitely want to continue this, but I have things to do this evening and I don't wanna lose the progress, so enjoy for now 😜

-junkyard-puppy

THIS 👏 IS👏WHAT 👏IM 👏 TALKING👏ABOUT

there are three more parts that are SO FUCKING HOT and I’m so glad you had fun with it. couple things:

1) of course all the staff would be feedists. gotta be.

2) I love how this starts and the shocking realization that “this is the feedist hotel DUH” is so wonderful. thank u.

I’ll post the other parts soon!!!

[youaintnothinbuta]

“Elvis, stop it.” — Elvis Presley x reader

Summary: Drabble where Elvis is being cheeky during dinner preparations, making a comment that has you feeling a flustered. There’s no real plot lol (unless anyone wants a smutty part 2)

Pairing: Elvis or Austin!elvis x reader

Word count: 544

Warnings: fluff, mild sexual innuendos

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You, Elvis, and some family were gathered around the kitchen island, everyone fussing and eagerly awaiting the delicious meal you were preparing, having a pizza night at home.

Elvis couldn't resist sneaking over to where you were chopping up toppings and stealing little bites. You laughed as he popped a cherry tomato into his mouth, shaking your head at his antics.

“Elvis, stop it,” you scolded playfully, trying to fend him off with your knife.

But Elvis just laughed, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he reached for another olive.

“I can't help myself,” he protested, his mouth full of food.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help but smile.

“Well, the more you eat now, the less you'll have on your pizza,” you teased, pushing his hand away from taking more. Undeterred, Elvis wrapped his arms around you from behind, planting a soft kiss on your cheek.

“I wanna eat you now,” he whispered into your ear, causing you to blush bright red.

“Elvis!” you exclaimed, playfully swatting at him. “Behave yourself.”

He chuckled, pressing another kiss to your cheek before reluctantly releasing you.

“Okay, okay,” he said with a grin, raising his hands in surrender. “I'll behave...”

With a laugh, you turned back to your chopping, shaking your head at him. Despite his mischievous behavior, you couldn't help but feel grateful for him and the love and laughter he brought into your home. As the delicious aroma of freshly baked pizza filled the room, you all gathered around the table, eagerly digging in. Laughter and conversation flowed freely as you enjoyed each other's company.

After dinner, Elvis graciously offered to take care of the dishes, collecting everyone's plates and utensils and disappearing into the kitchen. You watched him go, a fond smile on your lips, before realizing your glass of wine was empty.

“Elvis, could you pour me another glass, please?” you called out to him, hoping he could hear you from the kitchen.

A moment later, Elvis emerged from the kitchen, a mischievous grin on his face as he approached you.

“Yes ma'am,” he replied, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on your cheek before disappearing back into the kitchen. You smiled at his playful demeanor as you watched him pour you another glass of wine. When he returned, he handed you the glass with a flourish, his eyes sparkling with affection.

“Thank you,” you murmured, reaching out to touch his hand. He grinned, leaning closer to you.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he whispered, his low voice sending shivers down your spine.

You contemplated for a moment, leaning in close to him, you whispered into his ear, “Does your offer still stand?”

Elvis's eyes widened slightly at your words, and he cleared his throat nervously. “You want me to?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your heart racing with anticipation. “Mhm,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his ear.

Without hesitation, Elvis gracefully removed the glass from your hand and popped it down on the table, sweeping you off your feet, his strong arms effortlessly lifting you into his embrace. As he carried you upstairs, a wave of excitement washed over you, knowing that you were in for one hell of a treat.

Smutty part two here as promised ;)

[viceroywrites]

deja vu - part eight (stan route)

planning out your road trip through the pacific northwest, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to the town of gravity falls.

little did you know that this town held more memories than you could have possibly imagined.

too bad you didn't remember any of them.

stan x fem!reader / ford x fem!reader

choose your own adventure / contains fluff and angst (w/ happy ending)

part seven | part nine

interested in the ford route? click here for masterlist.

a!n: woof, this took me a hot minute to complete this chapter but i finally got it done! this chapter is very memory-dump heavy so i hope it's worth the wait. i truly appreciate everyone's patience with this series and i hope you enjoy this chapter! ford's chapter should be up for sure by the end of this month!

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With each creek of the wooden floorboards beneath his sock-clad feet, Stan winces as he passes by his brother’s room. His hand carefully turns the door knob, peeking through the crack. His breath that he’s been holding in the entire trek down the stairs finally escapes his lips at the sight of his brother laying in his bed, his limbs dangling off the edge and the book he was reading before dozing off dropped to the floor.

Stan quietly closes the door before making his way to the vending machine, looking behind him cautiously. It was like deja vu from last summer, sneaking around in the middle of the night while everyone sleeps as Stan punches the code to give him entry to the basement below.

In his hand, he holds the cold metal of the capsule he had found days ago, having forgotten about it until his dream sparked a memory that Stan could not ignore.

Y/N Memories 2.

Stan grabs the office chair, taking a seat in it before wheeling over to the gold plated monitor that Ford and you have been using to watch your memories back this past week. After carefully placing the capsule into the slot, he sits back, the screen fizzling to life.

You stare at the family photo of the Pines family, a younger Ford with his arm wrapped around another boy who is the spitting image of him, having found it after digging through his wallet to grab a tip for the pizza delivery guy.

As you walk back down the hallway to Fiddleford and Ford’s dorm room, your thumb runs over Stan’s face, seeing the huge boyish grin across his features. Despite having the same features as your boyfriend, there was a distinct difference in style and even personality that showed through in the worn-out photo. Opening the door to Ford’s room, you take a seat on his bed silently, placing the pizza box down.

Ford is preoccupied with the textbook in front of him, jotting down notes as he starts to say, “Thanks for grabbing me food, dear. You know how I get during midterms, I promise we’ll eat once I-”

You cut Ford off, holding up the photo, “Ford, who is this?”

Ford finally looks up from his textbook, the color in his face draining at what you are holding up. He quickly snatches it from you, tucking it into his cardigan pocket, “T-That’s Shermie, of course. Remember you met him when we visited New Jersey last summer?”

“Stanford Filbrick Pines, the person in that photo with you is clearly your age, Shermie would’ve been a baby in that photo. Unless you somehow figured out how to clone yourself at age fourteen, which we know if you did, you wouldn’t be at Backupsmore of all places.” You point out. Your gaze is full of skepticism, waiting expectantly for an answer.

He winces at your usage of his full name and lets out a deep sigh of defeat, getting up from the desk chair. Taking a seat next to you, he pulls the photo of his cardigan pocket, “I knew this day was going to come eventually. My so-called clone,” Ford runs a finger over his brother’s face, “is my twin brother, Stanley.”

You look back and forth between the photo and Ford, jaw dropped in disbelief, “And you failed to tell me this? Stanford, we’ve been together for almost two years now, I would expect something like this to come up.” Ford places the photo in your hands, the sight of it causing conflicted feelings to rise to the surface, “Well, there was a reason for that. My brother and I aren’t exactly on talking terms…”

You see the sadness etched across Ford’s features, and reach over to place your hand over his, “What happened, Ford?”

Stan watches his brother share with you his side of the story, wincing at the bitter edge in Ford’s voice when he mentions how Stan ruined his perpetual motion machine. It feels surreal to watch this play out, hearing the frustration and anger but also sadness his brother’s voice over things that they had put behind them last summer.

He waits for your response with bated breath, almost expecting you to default to defending and comforting Ford like everyone else had done at the time. 

“Ford, why didn’t you go after him? That’s your twin brother.” You say in surprise.

“Y/N, did you not hear what I just said? He ruined my chances at getting into my dream school!” Ford sighs in exasperation, a pang of guilt running through him, “Besides… what was I supposed to do? Even if I did stand up for Stanley that day, I would have ended up on the streets with him.”

You decide to let the protest in your mouth go, seeing how uncomfortable the conversation was making Ford. You also figured he already felt bad enough that he couldn’t do more for his brother at the time without risking his own future.  You glance back down at the photo before standing up to slip it back into Ford’s wallet, “Listen, I know you two aren’t on talking terms right now… but when you’re ready, you should at least check up on him. See how he’s doing.”

Ford chuckles, “Now, you’re sounding like my mom.”

“Well, she’s a wonderful woman so you should listen to her more.” You say, pinching Ford’s cheek affectionately before opening the pizza box.

Stan watched the static fizzle to transition to the next memory, but his mind was still reeling from the revelations.

Despite the fact that you had never met him and your first impressions were all coming from Ford, you came to his defense.

The last glance Ford gave to Stan before he was thrown out actually was one of regret, a silent wish Ford had that he had spoken up and defended his brother.

You met his mom, the only person who showed up to his fake funeral.

He continues to watch as each year, you encourage Ford to reach out, attempting to bridge the gap between the brothers. Stan rolls his eyes, arms crossed defensively almost out of reflex when hearing his brother tear apart one of his infomercials, but can’t help but smile as you come to his defense.

“I mean you gotta give him credit for trying, Ford. He actually really knows how to sell a product.” You say, sitting next to Ford on the arm of the chair that was in front of the TV. The two of you were unwinding for the evening after a long day of anomaly hunting, flipping through the channels before seeing a familiar face pop onto the screen, selling a new product called the Rip Off.

“He’s always been like that, trying to come up with some sort of get rich quick scheme.” Ford scoffed though it was less venom, almost laughing at the sight of his brother with a ridiculous mustache.

The phone rings and Ford shoots up, “That might be Fiddleford returning my call!” 

Just as Ford exits the room, your eyebrow raises as Stan begins to rattle off a number to place an order for his product. As the number appears on screen, you grab a nearby scrap of paper and pen, jotting it down.

Later that night, when Ford is asleep, you creep downstairs, wincing each time the floor creaks. You dial the numbers scrawled on the piece of paper you kept tucked in your pocket.

The phone rings for quite some time and just as you’re about to give up and hang up, you hear the line pick up.

“Hello?” A gruff voice, slightly deeper from just being woken up, answers.

“Is this Stanley Pines?” You ask, hoping you got the right number, not realizing that Stan was using a different alias in the infomercial, Steve Pinington. 

There’s a pause, Stan staring at the phone in confusion and panic. He hadn’t gone by his real name since he left Jersey, being chased from state to state after his scams had failed.

“Listen, if the debt collector sent you to get money from me, tell him I need at least another week.” He answers, catching you off guard at his response. You blink owlishly for a brief moment before responding, “Look, I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but I’m calling about Ford Pines, your brother.”

The phone practically slips from Stan’s hold in shock at the mention of his brother. It had been years since he heard from any of his family, and now there was a random stranger calling him in the middle of the night, mentioning his brother. His heart felt like it dropped into his stomach, fearing the worst may have happened to Ford and he quickly dropped his guard, “Did something happen to Ford? Is he okay?”

You hear the concern in Stan’s voice and quickly explain, “Nothing happened, he’s fine! Listen, I know this is quite unorthodox and you two haven’t spoken in years but I saw your number on an infomercial and figured this may be my only chance to reach out on his behalf. To maybe get you two talking again.’

Stan quickly relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief when he realized Ford wasn't in danger but it in turn led his defenses to go right back up, “Listen, if Ford wants to finally talk to me after all these years, he can do it himself. He didn’t have to send his… what are you his secretary, lab assistant..?” Stan questions.

You let out an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, “I’m his partner.” 

There’s a long, drawn out silence, so long that you almost think the call dropped. Stan finally speaks, “You sure you’re not pulling my leg here?”

“No, as hard as it may be for you to believe, I am dating your brother.” You reply, shaking your head in disbelief that you are having this conversation. It’s clear the brothers had differences in personality, and yet there were some similarities that you could pinpoint.

Their shared stubbornness being one of them. 

“I take it my brother has no idea you’re calling me considering you decided to call at…” There’s a pause, Stan leaning over and squinting to check the time on the digital clock by his bedside, “2 AM.”

“He has no clue.” You mutter, twirling the phone cord in your finger. It dawns on you how impulsive this plan was and perhaps it was naive of you to think that Stan would even want to talk to his brother after everything that’s happened. 

Stan runs a hand over his tired face, still perplexed by the situation. Never would he have imagined that the next time he would hear about his brother would be through his supposed partner. After all, the last image of Ford he had in his brain was the geeky, lanky teen whose closet consisted primarily of sweater vests and stuffy turtlenecks. 

“Hey, uh, what has Ford said about me?” Stan asks, “Not that I expect him to rave about me at all.” He muttered, a bit embarrassed to admit that he still cared to this day what his brother thought about him. 

“Not… all bad things.” You say with a slight hesitation, wincing at how that sounded. “He told me everything that led up to you two not being on speaking terms, how you were always hot-headed and always stirred up trouble.” You admit, trying to dance around the topic of Stan getting thrown out and causing Ford to lose his opportunity of getting into his dream school.

“Ha… not sure what I was hoping for by asking, but thanks for being-” Stan chuckles bitterly, but you interrupt him before he can finish his thought. “But if you ask me, I think it’s all a front.  I mean the man literally has a photo of the two of you in his wallet… that’s how I found out you existed in the first place.

Stan’s heart feels full after hearing those words come from you. After all, he was starting to give up any hope that Ford would want him to be a part of his life again after the mistake he made those years ago. A sense of relief washes over him, and for once after all these years, he feels like he can breathe easy. 

Hearing you yawn breaks his train of thought, and Stan clears his throat, “Hey, uh, I realize I didn’t catch your name.” You share your name with him and he commits it to memory, “Thanks for reaching out. I get why Ford wouldn’t want to talk to me yet, but if he ever is open to it, tell him don’t be a stranger.”

You smile, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep bugging him, he’ll cave eventually.”

Stan laughs, taking enjoyment in someone bugging Ford in his absence, “I like your moxie.”

Stan knew deep-down when he first ran into you on the side of the road that there was something special about you. He wasn’t able to name it until now, but as he walked around the Mystery Shack, giving you a tour, your presence was strangely comforting, almost like the two of you knew each other for years.

Watching the two of you exchange late night calls back and forth over the next few months, his fond smile quickly dissipates, seeing your features grow more and more weary and tired despite the chipper tone you try to fake over the phone. Each time you hang up, you walk back upstairs, looking wistfully at the entrance of the basement as you pass it before heading back to an empty bed, the sheets on the other side perfectly made and untouched. 

Once Fiddleford had arrived, you had opted to write letters to be more covert since Ford and Fiddleford were often up late working on the portal. Seeing you open the letters in excitement, laughing over Stan’s amusing stories about his life as a door to door salesman, sparked a memory of Stan’s, and he quickly begins rummaging through the drawers, rifling through the various papers, books, and knick-knacks that mostly belonged to Ford.

Stan pauses, hearing his brother’s voice on the tape and looks up, wincing as he gets a glimmer of what you and Ford’s fights were like. In all honesty, he tried to avoid asking either of you too many details about what happened all those years ago, especially given the tension that was continuing to rise with every memory you got back. Yet here it was in front of his eyes in fuzzy definition.

“Y/N, will you please stop fretting over me?” Ford sighs in exasperation, his eyes bloodshot from the countless all-nighters he had been pulling the past week. His brown locks are askew, having run his hands through them in frustration over and over again.

You stand at the doorway of the basement, a thick blanket draped around your frame. A frown is set across your features, seeing Ford neglecting basic needs like food, sleep and even hygiene this past month to work on the portal. You had hoped things were starting to turn around - after all, it had been ages since Bill had paid him a visit, and you, Fiddleford and him actually spent a wonderful Christmas together, drinking eggnog and reminiscing about college days.

“Ford, you’ve been at this for days. You’re not a super computer that can crank out equations day in and day out, you’re a human being that needs to sleep and eat.” You say with a stern tone, approaching him from behind. He hadn’t even spared you a glance, eyes fixated on the equations before him that were key to completing the portal that loomed past the glass. 

Trust No One.

The words that his muse told him right after the holidays resonated in his mind for days on end, wary of Fiddleford and you. The insomnia was not helping his growing paranoia, wondering if the two of you were slowing down his progress on purpose.

You attempt to place a hand over his shoulder, but he shrugs it off, knowing he will cave the moment he feels your touch. You recoil your hand, feeling the burn of his rejection. 

“I’m finished having this discussion with you, I would expect you of all people to realize how important it is to me and why I cannot take any more breaks.” Ford says with a dismissive tone, “I already wasted too much time over the holidays putzing around.”

Your eyes narrow, and Ford can practically feel your glare burning a hole in the back of his head. “Do you really think that Christmas we all spent together was a waste of time?”

“Well no but-”

“Bill came back, didn’t he?”

Ford’s shoulders tensing gives you the answer you need. Your feet carry you back up the stairs, not turning back around despite Ford’s protests.

“Damn it all.” Ford curses under his breath, his hands slamming onto the desk, the equations beneath his fingertips crumpling. He looks up, the inverted triangle mocking him in the distance. “Forgive me, Y/N, but I must set my eyes on the prize. Once I make this breakthrough, opportunities await us.”

You attempt to fight back the sudden wave of emotion. You pass the living room, the glow of the TV illuminating Fiddleford’s figure passed out on the couch with his banjo still in his hands. You walk up to pull the instrument from his fingers and wrap the blanket draped over the back of the chair over him. “Is he still workin’ away?” Fiddleford asks groggily, half-asleep. You wipe the stray tear that had dropped from your lash onto your cheek, swallowing down the lump in your throat before replying, “Yeah… get some rest, Fidds.”

Just as you’re about to head back up the stairs, you pause at the steps, hearing the phone ringing in the kitchen. You glance over your shoulder cautiously, relieved to see Fiddleford fast asleep before scurrying over to answer it.  You know the only one that could be possibly calling at this hour had to be Stan, but it had been quite some time since you two called one another. 

“Stan?” You answer the phone. Stan twirled his finger around the cord of the pay phone, eyebrow raising at the shaky tone of your voice, “Everything okay, doll?” You clear your throat, letting out a bit of a dry chuckle, “I should be the one asking that considering that you’re calling.” A smile finally spreads across Stan’s face in what seems like ages, “Look at you turning the question back on me, clever gal. But really, is everything alright over there? Ford do something stupid?”

You let out a sigh, not wanting to burden his own brother with the details of your ongoing fights, especially considering the man was constantly on the run, practically living out of his car at this point, “Something like that… but seriously, why’re you calling? I thought we were sticking to writing to each other.” Stan rubbed the back of his neck, glancing back as he heard police sirens in the distance, “Well, that’s why I called. I’m skipping town, just wanted to let you know just in case I didn’t write back for a bit.”

You blink at the sudden news, “Any plans on where you’re heading to next?” You ask, a silent yet slightly selfish wish that he might be heading towards Oregon. “Oklahoma, not sure exactly where yet. Gotta scrounge up some cash first before I can find a place to stay.”

“Oh Stan, are you sure you don’t want me to-” Stan interrupts you before you can finish, “No, I’ll figure it out.”

Ah, there’s that shared Pines twin stubbornness again.

“Are you sure? I just want you to have somewhere safe and warm to stay for the night at least instead of sleeping in your car tonight.” You sigh. Stan can hear the disappointment in your voice and attempts to quell your worries, “I’m sure, doll. Promise I’ll shoot you a letter once I’m settled.” 

You decide to not push further, wrapping the blanket tighter around your frame as a sudden breeze rushes through the kitchen from a crack in the window, “Alright, stay safe, okay? I don’t want to wake up to hear I’m your one phone call if you land up in a jail cell tonight.”

“No more Tijuana nights for me, I promise.” Stan chuckles, wishing you a good night before hanging up the phone on the receiver. 

“Aha! Found it!” Stan exclaims to himself, finding a stack of crumpled up letters he had stuffed in an overdue bill envelope. He unfolds the letters, spreading them across the table and skimming through the contents. With each word he reads, the memories start to piece together, recalling several nights where the only genuine connection that he experienced was seeing a letter from you slide through the bottom of whatever motel room he was staying at.

The tape almost becomes background noise to him, fixated on the content of the letters. It eats Stan up at the realization with each letter that passes that you were subtly hinting through your words for him to come visit, desperate to find someone that Ford would listen to.

Despite all logic telling him that it may not have made a difference, there is a tiny voice in the back of his mind that wonders if he just put aside his ego, his stubbornness, his pride, would things have been different?

He finally gets to the letter from his dream, eyes snapping up to see that he’s finally caught up to the tape as he watches you write and send out the letter. 

That’s the last letter in his hand and Stan expects the static to fizzle out, signalling the end of your memories with him.

It doesn’t.

The scene reveals you storming up the stairs of the basement, flinging the door wide open as Ford’s voice, arguably with more venom than Stan has ever heard in his life, yell,

“Fine, I don’t need anyone! I don’t need Fiddleford, and I don’t need you! All you’ve ever done is hold me back!”

The words sting for Stan despite not being on the receiving end of them, a hauntingly familiar insecurity rising to the surface.

You pack up every single remnant of your existence that was in the Mystery Shack, tears streaming down your face. Your hands stuffing clothes into your suitcase without a semblance of care, your vision blurring to the point where you can barely make out what you’re putting in the bag. 

You reach aimlessly into your bedside drawer to grab as much of your belongings as possible, the wood jostling around before the frame that sits atop of it topples over and falls to the floor. The glass shatters, and yet you don’t waste any time trying to pick it up and salvage it, leaving it behind much like you and Ford’s relationship.

Your feet carry you out the door, giving one last glance at the Mystery Shack. You stood there for a moment, a part of you perhaps hoping that Ford would come running through the door. That he would chase after you, pull you into his arms and apologize for the painful words that were now carved into your psyche. That he would shut down the portal that evening, and leave this whole ordeal and his so-called muse behind. 

The wind howled around you as the last ounce of hope within you died when he didn’t come out.

You walk aimlessly for a while before finally making your way into the small town, its atmosphere quiet and calm with most of its residents fast asleep. You wander over to the local inn, taking the key from the innkeeper and making your way to the room. Dropping your bags to the floor, the weight of Ford’s words and the reality of your relationship’s end finally sinks in, and you collapse onto the bed.

Days pass before you muster the strength to even leave the room, the grief making your limbs feel heavy to the point where you only get out of bed to go to the bathroom. You finally realize you can’t survive on granola bars and water bottles after the fourth day, mustering enough energy to change your clothes and make your way into town for a decent meal. 

You grab a photo on top of your pile of clothes, turning it around reluctantly and expecting to see a photo of you and Ford. You freeze, seeing the Pines twins staring back at you. Brown eyes looking at each other, full of hopes and dreams of a future beyond their beachside hometown.

Stanley.

You clutched the photo in your hands for a while, conflicted on what to do. Would it cause you more pain to keep in touch? Did you have any right to stay in contact with Stan, the brother of the man that broke your heart?

Blood is thicker than water, and despite the brothers’ distant relationship, you knew that with enough time, they would be closer than ever.

The growl of your stomach interrupts your thoughts, and you decide to make a decision about how to proceed with a clearer head after a much needed meal and some coffee. After hoovering down way too many stacks of pancakes at the local diner, you take a stroll through the town. During your entire time in Gravity Falls, Ford and you kept to yourselves for the most part, rarely venturing into town unless for bare essentials. The townspeople of Gravity Falls were quirky to say the least, but they were warm and welcoming, almost oblivious to the anomalies that Ford has been chasing and cataloging for the past few years.

It seemed almost like a luxury, the ability to be unaware of the strange happenings that occurred in the surrounding woods. A luxury that you were beginning to envy.

You shake the thought, stopping by the local post office before heading back to the inn. Your fingers gingerly pick up the photo, and you take a seat at the desk, taking the pen with the inn’s worn-out logo and twirling it in between your fingers, a habit you had subconsciously picked up from Ford. You catch yourself, stopping before flipping the photo over and beginning to write.

Hi Stan,

I really wish I was reaching out in better circumstances, but unfortunately, that’s not the case.

Ford’s gotten too deep into his research, and I can’t continue to sit by while he destroys himself and everything around him to reach this goal. 

I had to walk away, but he’s all on his own, and I know he’s much too stubborn and prideful to ask for help. I’m sorry to put this burden on you, but please go see him, Stan. He needs someone to talk some sense into him, and if anyone can get through to him, I know it’s you.

I really wish we could have met, that we could have teased Ford together, seen the two of you back together thick as thieves. Even though we’ve only talked through letters and over the phone, I know you’ve got a heart of gold underneath that rough exterior. I have to admit that you brought out lightness in a really dark time for me.

I hope life treats you kinder, I hope things turn around, and you get to take all the adventures in the world one day with Ford. I’ll be rooting for you.

Please take care of yourself. 

Sincerely,

Y/N

Droplets of water hit the photo, slightly smearing the ink. Wiping them away with the back of your sleeve, you tuck the photo into an envelope and seal it with a sense of finality.

The memories flood back to Stan just like they did last summer, and everything seems much clearer like the time he realized he needed glasses after jokingly putting on Ford’s to imitate him. 

It dawns on him that he never got your final letter, only Ford’s postcard. 

Maybe he narrowly missed it, having packed his belongings the moment he got Ford’s plea for help. 

Maybe it got lost in the mail, laying amongst a pile of letters that would never be opened.

Whatever the reason, it tore him apart that he went all those years thinking you forgot about him, tossing him aside in your mind without a second thought to even reach out for a goodbye. His brain having lumped into the same category as every single person in his hometown that thought he was good for nothing, his twin brother being the only reason why anyone would want to be around him. 

Yet there you stood, all those years later, your car stranded on the side of the road, back in the woods where it all started. Neither of you having a clue there was a reason why your banter and interactions seemed so effortless. It was like you picked back up right where you started.

“Stanley, what are you doing down here?”

Ford’s voice startles him, almost causing him to topple over in the chair. Before he can explain himself or even come up with some excuse, one last scene fizzles on the screen for both brothers to watch.

You wander through the aisles of the convenience store, having a basket cradled in the crook of your arm.You were in the small town of Gravity Falls, visiting an old friend from college who was here doing research. Fiddleford had sent you to grab some basic staples, and you happily accepted, needing the walk to clear your strangely foggy head.

Staring at the list that Fiddleford had scrawled on a piece of paper as you squint to make out his chicken scratch, you don’t catch the hooded figure with his head down walking directly towards you. You collide with one another, falling on your butt and the contents of your basket spilling out. 

“S-Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” You apologize, scrambling to grab the contents of your basket. “You’re fine, I wasn’t looking either.” A hauntingly familiar voice replies back, reaching for the loaf of bread and handing it over to you.

Your eyes widen, and you look up, seeing a man who had the same face of the person you wanted to forget staring back at you. The brown locks that you remembered were longer, hitting the nape of his neck, the furry lining of the beat-up hoodie adorning the top of his head. Tired eyes gazing back at you.

The world stands still around you, not realizing the crowd that was beginning to form after hearing the sound of your basket crashing to the ground.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Stan says, staring at you with concern as you continue to gape at him.

“Stan…” You finally say, the memories of Ford beginning to seep back into your consciousness. 

Stan’s eyes widen when you say his name. Not Ford’s but his. 

Before he can react, he watches you stand up suddenly, abandoning the items on the floor and pushing past the bodies to bolt out of the exit.

You don’t think, your feet carrying you back to the hut that Fiddleford was staying in. Slamming the door behind you, Fiddleford jumps, his hypervigilance still activated as he picks up his banjo to start swinging it. He relaxes when he sees it’s you, placing the instrument down, “Sweet sarsaparilla, you scared me, Y/N!” He lets out a surprised yelp, feeling your embrace tight around him.

“What’s the matter? Somethin’ happen while you were out?” Fiddleford says with concern, his spine rigid at the thought of you encountering one of the many anomalies that disturbed him during his time in Gravity Falls. You mutter into his shirt, “I saw him, Fidds… and all the memories came right back… it hurts so much.”

His eyes widen, and he pulls you away briefly to stare into your tear-soaked eyes, “You saw S?” You shake your head back and forth, “No… his brother. He’s in town.”

“Ah shucks, did he recognize ya?” Fiddleford asks, guiding you over to the rocking chair before taking a seat on the floor in front of you. “No, I don’t think he knows what I look like. I did say his name though.” You pause before letting out a sad chuckle, “They really do look alike, apart from a few differences.”

The two of you sit in silence, Fiddleford reluctant to offer yet again to use the memory gun on you. It was one thing to erase the memory of the anomalies from his own brain and the brains of several Gravity Falls residents, but asking him to relieve you of every single memory you had of the man you both cared deeply about, he was conflicted. Your time with Ford encompassed most of your adult life, and he would be taking away essentially years of your life. He had attempted to talk you out of it, but when he saw how all sense of joy had been sucked out of you and your eyes puffy from all the tears you had shed, he caved, wanting to take away the pain.

“Fidds, I can’t stay here… I need to go back home.” You sigh, bringing your legs up to your chest and rocking in the chair, “Everything about this place is a potential reminder of Ford… I just want to put this all behind me.” Fiddleford nods, “I understand… do you wanna..” he trails off, getting choked up over the thought of erasing your memories again. 

“Yes… and I’m going to need you to erase my memories of Stan too.” You say, extending your hand out, feeling Fiddleford’s fingers rest on your palm. 

“Hey Fidds…”

“Yeah…”

“Thank you, I know this hasn’t been easy for you either.”

That evening, you and Fiddleford have one final dinner together, going through old photos and memories from the past. After today, all the pain would be gone so why not open up some of the wounds to at least have a final farewell to your life with Ford and Gravity Falls?

After booking a one way ticket back to your hometown, you sit on the floor, watching Fiddleford configure the Memory Gun. “What’s his full name again? Just gotta make sure… it’s accurate.” Fiddleford asks a casual question for such a heavy task ahead of him.

“Stanley Pines.”

Fiddleford finishes typing out the name before sitting down in front of you, “Are you sure you wanna do this, Y/N?”

You nod, “I’m sure, Fidds. I spent so many years of my life revolving around Ford… I want to do the things I put on hold, and I know if I still have his memory lingering in my mind, I’ll be stuck for a long time.”

Fiddleford gives one final nod before suddenly hugging you tightly, “Don’t be a stranger now. I expect a letter about your adventures when ya get the time.”

You chuckle sadly, returning the embrace, “I won’t be, Fidds.” 

Feeling the cool bulb press against your temple, you close your eyes, envisioning Stan’s face from earlier. You have one final hope that his presence means Ford finally let someone in.

‘Goodbye, Stanley… at least one of my wishes came true and I got to meet you.’

The scene cuts, the screen goes black, the two brothers’ crestfallen expression reflecting back at them.

Ford places a hand on his brother’s shoulder, “Stanley… is this the end of her memories?”

Stan shakes his head, his head buzzing from the memories coming back to him. God, he felt like his brain was about to burst from all the information flooding back to him. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he exhales, “There was a second capsule… I found it in the basement of the museum earlier this week but I didn’t say anything cause I didn’t want to complicate things.”

Ford’s eyes widened at the revelation, “So the second capsule was…”

“It was her memories of me. Guess you weren’t the only one she wanted to forget, Ford.” Stan says, hating the bitter tone on his tongue, “My memories of her started coming back, I guess, after we hung out yesterday. Started having a dream just like hers.”

“You know we need to tell her about it…” Ford stated with a softer tone, slightly pressing but not being too demanding. He understood what it was like to feel erased, the same questions likely circling in his brother’s head.

Was I insignificant enough that you erased me?

Was your life better off without me in it?

“No, not yet!” Stan says frantically, “She’s already struggling with her memories with you, I don’t wanna make this worse for her.”

Ford sighs, trying to reason with his brother, “You know she’s going to find out eventually. If your memories of her were starting to come back, I’m sure the same is happening to her.”

Stan mulls it over, his brother having a point. On the other hand, he heard what Ford’s last words were to you, and they weren’t pretty. Was it right for him to throw another curveball at you just when you’re so close to getting to that fight?

“I’m willing to take the risk… I just want her to focus on what’s up ahead with your memories with her.” Stan says with a sense of finality.

Ford nods, knowing after so many years, not to argue with Stan when he speaks with conviction. “Alright… I’ll let you handle your memories with her, and we’ll keep forging onward with her memories with me.” He walks over to the machine, removing the capsule and placing it back into Stan’s hands. His eyes glance over at the letters strewn across the table, watching Stan quickly scoop them into his arms.

“Stanley… did she write you those letters?” Ford asks. He wasn’t completely oblivious to your efforts in the past to keep in touch with his brother, mostly turning a blind eye to it as he was so focused on the portal. He hadn’t realized though you two had been in communication much more consistently than he had realized.

“She did… since someone was too stubborn to reach out himself.” Stan snorts, grinning as Ford huffs in response, “You’re one to talk! The phone goes both ways, Stanley, and I never heard anything from you either.”

“Hey, I did try calling one time!” Stan defends himself.

“Oh really because I don’t recall you ever doing so?” Ford says.

“Well, you picked up… I just didn’t say anything and hung up.” Stan mutters.

“Stanley, that hardly counts!” Ford protests.

“Am I interrupting something?” Your voice cuts off the brothers’ bickering, watching in amusement with two coffee mugs in your hand. 

Stan quickly stumbles, fumbling to hide the capsule behind the papers as Ford approaches to take the mugs from your hands, “Thank you for bringing these down, we’ve got a long day ahead of us if we want to get back on track.”

“Sorry, Stan, I would have brought you coffee if I knew you were down here. Thought you were still sleeping when you weren’t in the kitchen.” You apologize.

Stan shakes his head, using this as an excuse to slip out, “I’ll go grab myself one, don’t sweat it. I’ll get out of your guys’ hair.” He begins walking towards the stairs, pausing mid-way up the stairs to spare a glance at you.

You lean against the work station, watching Ford carefully place the capsule back in its slot. You pass him his mug, Stan’s eyes lingering on the brush of each other’s fingertips despite neither of you or Ford reacting to the touch.

Being twins, many would presume there would be a lot of things the brothers would share in common. Despite the similarities in appearance, they were two distinct individuals, with different goals, hobbies, interests, and personalities. 

While there was friendly competition here and there, there was rarely a moment where Stan coveted something that Ford had aside from a few instances of fighting over a favorite toy and the one time in 5th grade where he and Ford had a crush on the same girl, Niki Marino.

This was one of those moments.

[ladylooch]

I was re-reading the part when David and Mack went to the pizzeria, the day he kissed her for the first time. I thought how sweet it would be now with little Nicky—David taking them to the same place after a match. They remember the old days while their baby makes funny sounds because he wants to taste a slice of pizza

The Friday night dinner rush is running over the family pizzeria that Mack and David have been frequenting since their first date. But as regulars, their drinks are continuously refreshed and their meal order was put in the minute they walked in the door. The staff all stops by at various points through the evening, saying hi to the couple as well as swooning over Nicky who is in prime, Gerber baby fashion tonight.

"Those cheeks!"

"His eyes!"

"How does his hair stay that swooped and styled!?"

Sure, he looks like that now, but when he woke up from his afternoon nap it was static central station. Black hair stuck out from his head like a dying dandelion.

"He does look very cute tonight." Mack sighs to her husband as the latest waitress rushes off at the sound of the kitchen bell dinging. "Looks just like you. That's why he is a babe magnet." David snorts, then shakes his head at his wife. He only cares about one babe and it's the one in the booth across from him who gave him the baby they're admiring.

A yawn stretches David's lips apart and he blinks through the tears that form in his eyes from it.

"Tired?"

"Mmmm, yeah." He answers her, collecting her hand on the table top. He hopes their pizza comes soon. Daddy can't hang these days. The team is currently in the grinding days of the season between games 40-60. Simple hockey is what they're trying to play and for David it means a lot more hits and blocking shots. He has a massive bruise on his thigh to ice again later.

"We can take our food to go?" Mack offers, shaking the scrunchie toy book she brought for Nicky as he starts to fuss. He grabs it, flipping through the fabric pages before bringing it to his mouth to suck on.

"It's alright, honey. I like being here with you. Brings me back."

"To a better life?" She jokes.

"No. I was actually just thinking about how lonely it used to be to come here by myself. I'd sit at the bar and watch whatever game was on and keep my head down, hoping no one would notice me. Nothing like it is tonight with you."

"You're so soft when you're tired." Mack grins smugly at him. Their pizza appears as their mutual laughter dies down. It's their regular - pepperoni pizza with fresh basil. For Nicky, they got a kids cheese pizza.

David grabs a slice for Nicky, moving it to a separate plate so it can cool off for him. Nicky eyes the food, much more curious about it since they've been working solid foods into his diet.

"Bah!" He yells, pointing his drool coated finger at it.

"It's too hot." David says simply. "I'll let you know."

Mack and David both eat a bite of pizza, chatting through the next few days since David has two back to back home games at MSG. They also order two more drinks, then ask for the check and boxes so they can sneak out as fast as possible tonight. Looks and whispers about David's presence have started and he wants to be able to make an escape if needed.

"We can probably let him suck on it?" Mack murmurs as David contemplates cutting the slice.

"Sounds good to me." David picks up the slice of cheese pizza and brings it to Nicky's lips. He curls his lips inward, resisting for a moment then slowly opens his mouth. He laps at the very end of it, then starts to bounce excitedly in his seat.

"We got a winner!" Mack giggles as Nicky throws his toy book to the floor. He lets out a delightful squeak then leans forward, taking more pizza into his mouth.

For the next ten minutes, they watch in awe as their baby enjoys his first slice of pizza. Another milestone moment that has the two parents smitten with the little boy who is their whole world.

"He is so cool." David murmurs after another pass of the pizza to Nicky. He has mostly been swallowing the sauce, but it has still been a fun experience.

"I love that we can bring him places like this now. Everything has more meaning, getting to share it with him."

"So right, honey." David muses, eyes sparkling with joy as he watches Nicky closely with the latest nibble. After that bite, Nicky pushes at the pizza slice. "All done?" His little fist comes up, rubbing at his eye before he starts to whine.

"Oh boy." Mack murmurs. Nicky reaches his pudgy hands out for her as he starts to cry.

Mack and David spend the rest of dinner worrying about if they overfed him the pizza. Or if he is having a reaction to something. And everything else that new-ish parents worry about with the baby they love so much it hurts. They hurry to get Nicky home, saying brief goodbyes to the staff and running out with full, to-go boxes of pizza.

Turns out, Nicky was just tired. He passes out with his pacifier in the stroller on the brief walk home. He grumbles and cries as David changes his diaper and gets him into his giraffe footie pajamas. With daddy's big hand stroking up and down his back in the rocking chair, he is lulled back to sleep quickly. Mack comes in to say goodnight with a soft forehead kiss, then Nicky Carlson is tucked away for the night, safe in his baby dreams.

"I never would have imagined this night for us." Mack admits to her husband as she crawls into bed later. David looks up from his book. "Us, with a baby, rushing home because he seemed a little off..." David nods, but says nothing, going back to reading the pages in front of him. "What?" Mack pauses. "Did you?"

"Yeah." He smiles sideways at her. "Since the first night I took you there, I've seen you as part of my future. Nicky is the cherry on top." Mack curls her lips into a press for a moment, then braces her weight with a hand on his thigh to kiss him.

"I love you. Thank you for not giving up on me."

"I'll never give up, baby." He says simply. "I love you."

Mack flips over onto her side, turning out her bedside lamp and tucking her hand under her pillow. David puts a secure hand on her hip as he continues on in his book.

Sometime later, after Mack falls asleep, David ear marks his page then sets the book off to the side. His lamp turns off and he takes one last peek at Nicky sleeping safely on the monitor before he joins his wife in a slumber of his own.

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon (Modern Au) - Error 404 Brain Not Found: Bonus Scene - Part 9

Geralt and Jaskier very quietly rearranged the living room. It was after 10pm, Yennefer had gone to bed about an hour ago, and it was go time. It was dark outside, the living room lit only by the little bit of light from the streetlights that managed to filter through the blinds.

There was some uncoordinated manuevering, a bit of stifled grunting, a little whispered arguing, and some quiet cursing when Geralt put the couch down on Jaskier's toe.

"Owowowow!"

"What?"

"My toe--it's on my toe! *lowercase squealing* "Motherf**ker!"

*quiet grunt*

After a few moments of quiet cursing, Jaskier deemed his toe only mildly squished, and they continued with their task. Several moments of arguing, grunting, and swearing at each other later, and the task was complete.

A waterproof tarp was very quietly unfolded and added to the arrangement, along with a few ropes threaded through the tarp grommets to add structural support and keep the tarp in place.

Now it was ready for the complicated part. They had to move fast. This stuff needed time to sit for at least 6 hours before they could use it, so it had to be finished before Yennefer got up.

Geralt sneaked outside and ran the garden hose through the living room and into the tarp-lined space between the couches.

The water was turned on and Jaskier poured in a bucketful of some mystery substance that Geralt had only heard about yesterday. He wasn't really one for keeping up with the latest and greatest, but this had grabbed his attention.

Once they had added the correct amount of 'fun stuff' to the water, Jaskier went back to bed, and Geralt went to Yennefer's room to make sure she didn't get up and discover their handywork.

Morning, and Yennefer, found them sitting in a swimming pool made of two couches and a tarp, and filled with thousands of water beads. They were eating cereal and watching Saturday morning cartoons.

Jaskier and Geralt turned to look at her as she came to stand beside the surprisingly well-designed construction.

Yennefer heaved a mental sigh. She supposed she should be grateful they were literally just sitting quietly and not doing something really f***ing stupid, like jumping off the roof. And at least they weren't naked. She noted they were wearing swim trunks. Thank the gods for small miracles.

"It's 8am on a Saturday. It's too d*mn early for this." she said.

"It's never too early for an orbeez pool party!" Jaskier replied haughtily as he shoveled sugary cereal into his mouth.

"Ugh, can't you two w*nkers ever act like normal human beings?"

"I can't," Geralt responded, "I'm not a human, I'm a Witcher."

"So what's your excuse?" Yennefer asked, rounding on Jaskier.

"He's an idiot."

"Excuse me!"Jaskier squawked indignantly, spraying cereal over the side of the 'pool'.

"You're excused, just try to work on yourself, maybe try not being a f**kwit."

"B*tch!"

"A**wipe!"

Your face is ugly!"

"Your mom's ugly!"

"GeRaLt!!!!"

Yennefer took herself off to the kitchen, leaving Geralt to deal with his bard's whining.

They spent all day lounging in the water beads. The only time one of them got out was to get another plate of pizza rolls, drinks, or to use the bathroom.

A wrestling match broke out close to evening when Geralt took the last pizza roll out of Jaskier's hand.

"You unscrupulous b**tard!"

Yennefer looked out of the kitchen, where she was trying out a new soup recepie, and saw Geralt holding Jaskier at arm's length, trying to keep the bard away from the last pizza roll he was holding.

"Give it back!"

Geralt shoved Jaskier's head under the water beads and shoved the pizza roll into his mouth. Jaskier surfaced with an indignant screech. He took one look at Geralt, who was chewing like a dog worried it's owner was going to take the food out of it's mouth, and tackled him.

They both disappeared into the multicolored beads. Yennefer wandered over to watch as they stood up, continuing to grapple and shove.

She was going to tell them to stop. Eventually. For now, she was going to enjoy the show. No way she was going to pass up the opportunity to watch two wet, bare chested, hot men roll around and put their hands all over each other.

Yennefer got a very nice full frontal view of Geralt when Jaskier pulled out the Dirty Fighting playbook and yanked Geralt's swim trunks down. Geralt immediately whipped around. Jaskier, who hadn't had time to stand back up and was still at crotch level, got smacked in the face.

Yennefer ugly laughed as Jaskier sputtered in shock. The look on his face was priceless.

Jaskier.exe has stopped working

She could practically hear the old AOL dial-up sound as his brain rebooted.

Jaskier stood there, a confused look on his face, trying to work out how he felt about getting slapped in the face with a d*ck.

New Kink Unlocked...?

He didn't have enough time to really process it though, because Geralt picked him up and flipped him over his shoulder, dumping him into the water beads.

Jaskier rose in a cascade of beads, arm raised. There was a sound like a gunshot, and Geralt jumped, stiffening up with a yelp. A red welt in the shape of Jaskier's hand glowed on Geralt's right a** cheek.

Jaskier saw the look in Geralt's eyes. Oh, he was f**ked.

"Now hold on a minute!"

Geralt growled, then hissed and started towards him.

"I-I barely touched you!" Jaskier stammered and started flailing to the edge of the pool as fast as he could, Geralt slogging towards him purposfully, like and unstoppable juggernaut.

Out of desperation, Jaskier considered all his options, and went with the most reasonable, logical, least ridiculous one.

He looked at Geralt and said sternly, "SPSPSP!"

It had zero effect, aside from earning him another hiss.

Jaskier slipped and flailed, trying to shuffle to safety, a naked, angry Witcher slogging towards him. Yennefer was laughing the entire time, but then realized her mistake. She had gotten too close to the edge of the couch, and now her laughter turned into a shriek of surprise.

Jaskier made a desperate leap and grabbed at Yennefer, trying to use her to help pull himself out of the pool. Geralt pawed at Jaskier, massive hands trying to find purchase.

The witch tried to run, but it was too late. Geralt managed to get a good grip on Jaskier, grabbed him around the waist, and gave a mighty heave.

Yennefer and Jaskier both screamed as they were yanked into the pool. Geralt was knocked off balance by the extra weight hitting him, and the three of them fell into the orbeez pool.

One of the ropes holding the pool together gave up the ghost, and the pool burst. Various exclamations of surprise were made as they spilled out of the pool, and the living room was flooded with thousands of orbeez.

They laid there for a moment, collecting their wits. Geralt and Jaskier sat in the middle of the destruction, looking stunned. Jaskier looked at Geralt and had the audacity to start giggling.

"You ar**hole!" Yennefer snapped, smacking him on the head, " Don't laugh! Look at this mess!"

She rose, brushing herself off. "Clean this up, now! And Geralt, put some d*mn pants on!"

They spent the rest of their evening finding every single last orbee.

[smilesession]

I had a singularly bizarre and kaleidoscopic dream while asleep for about an hour and a half and I need to share it before I lose my memory of it. Sorry. I think this is kind of thematically interesting but it’s also horribly embarrassing and revealing of things I don’t even reveal to myself:

I go to a Papa John’s with a vague group of family and friends and I go up to the counter to put in our order. I tell the guy taking orders “I would like a large Film Pizza and a side of cheese bread.” The idea of film pizza in this dream was legible, a type of pizza, my favorite type of pizza, and a pizza order that conveyed a cultured palate. When he hands me my order, it’s clear that whoever made it was unskilled and unfamiliar with “film pizza” and it looked like shit, all the slices were pulled apart, it was just heavy tomato sauce and unmelted cheese, it was bad. And I stand up for myself and I shout at the guy, “hey I wanted a FILM PIZZA. A regular FILM PIZZA. This isn’t a FILM PIZZA. Looks like it has some kind of a film coating it, maybe!” and this was the funniest joke imaginable to me (film as in a cinematic type of pizza - film as in some kind of gross layer coating something) and I felt cool and clever. They remake my pizza

I am up at the counter and I’m wearing a jacket with band patches and pins on it and the cashier smiles at me and says “Whoaaa, I never thought I’d see a GIRL fan of FLIPPER around here…” and he and another man begin to touch me and examine my coat and praise me. My order comes out. It’s a pizza with olives and chicken on it and a separate plate of some chunks of something. I’m vaguely convinced this is not “film pizza with a side of cheese bread” but people are waiting so I bring it back to the table.

The pizza is good and the side of cheese bread turns out to be some kind of cheesecake, but I don’t want to bother with another correction so I just try it. It’s the most delicious thing imaginable, coated in white chocolate candy with soft cake inside, I start pigging out on it, it becomes a huge hot fudge sundae with chunks of this cake, me and a girl at the table begin fighting over it, I’m being selfish because I put in the work to order and buy it. We reach the bottom of the bowl and it becomes disgusting, hot fudge mixed with barbecue sauce and wet chicken meat, the immaculately delicious thing seems like it was just an illusion or a mirage I was having and I feel disgusted

After dinner I’m walking with my parents and my mother is wasted and being very physically affectionate toward my dad (in my real life I’ve never seen my parents even hug or kiss and I’ve never seen my mom drunk). They keep attempting to sneak off to be alone, I remember it’s their anniversary (in real life their anniversary is my birthday) but she’s stumbling and falling. I get worried about her and try to keep up with her and she’s getting loud and boisterous and trying to run. I say “mom are you having a manic episode?” And she says “yes!!! I’m going a mile a minute!!!!” and she runs off and is gone. I try to find her. I lose her, I try to find a way to look out over the city to find her.

I see the scrobbles man alone in a parking lot lit up under a streetlight, he is walking in circles. I don’t want to be seen. I overcome my fear of heights and climb up a tall ladder to the top of a building but there’s barbed wire at the top, I need to come down. As I try to get down the ladder, it starts to bounce back and forth. Every time it goes forward, it crashes hard against the side of the building and hurts me, and then it repels backwards; I can’t get down. I think I end up jumping down. I run through the city alone trying to get back to my room. I pass by doorways and see crowds of everyone I’ve ever known huddled in buildings looking out at me.

I get to the privacy of some kind of a dressing room that has a young male receptionist outside the door. He’s working on a computer in an open cubicle. The room I’m in is full of windows and there’s very little real privacy, I try to strategically stay behind the door so the man doesn’t see me. I need to change clothes. I have the sense that I need to change my appearance to achieve some vague goal. I start trying different variations of my outfit. I end up deciding that I need to be wearing less. I end up in a mesh top with no bra and my breasts exposed, I end up wearing a thong that shows out from a short skirt, I end up putting on boots, I end up reapplying my makeup. There is a mirror and I become aroused and excited at the sight of myself. I become aroused and excited at the thought that the man at the desk had seen me. I leave the room and I say “I hope I didn’t disturb you by changing clothes so near to you” and he says something very vulgar and essentially that he enjoyed watching me change. I think I briefly leave the room but then I return and he’s no longer there.

I begin filming a pornographic video of myself but I can’t get it right, I can’t convey what I’m seeing in my mind, I spend an hour trying to take a video. Suddenly the room is full of men, older professional men. They are working around a computer. The oldest man is near me and watching me. I start to feel horribly embarrassed and stupid but I can’t really stop what I’m doing. The men are working on some kind of occult/cryptozoological research. They are watching a documentary video they took of a beast that emerged from ancient ruins.

Then my alarm went off

[fivenightsatfreddysfanfiction]

sneak peeks From The Outside and Find A Friend

“How are your ribs? Finally healed up?” the day guard asked his brother. Therese and Enrique listened attentively, curiosity ramped up by the questions. The guard was holding his phone up, angled to point the camera at Sydney’s hands as the older man gestured with them. “That’s good. You’re lucky you only got a little roughed up by that guy. My background check turned up some info on that client,” the guard, Alex as the pizzeria owner said, explained in a lowered voice, “He’s apparently an admirer of your past self. You showing up as Pantera was practically his idea of a gift from on high for his collection.”

Sydney just face-palmed while Vanessa scowled, cheeks puffing indignantly. “He can’t have him! I hold Sydney’s contract, so I’ve got legal on my side!” she huffed. The three fell into silence as a waiter came by and delivered a large pizza and drinks for them.

“Just saying,” Alex picked up the conversation once the waiter was gone, “if you go back out again as Pantera, steer clear of that guy. I doubt he’ll just give up on you now that he’s convinced himself you’re somehow a descendent of yourself. Those eyes of yours are too unique to not have been ‘inherited’.” The brothers cringed at his words while Vanessa just pinched the bridge of her nose.

“This reminds me of how Afton thought my body would be perfect for Emelia just because I had green eyes like her,” she growled, “It’s stupid. These are our lives! Our identities!”

“Welcome to the paranormal dumbfuckery club,” Alex quipped, uncapping his bottle of soda, “Where our eyes get us into trouble and our souls are the ball in a decades-long game of keep-away from some dipshit who couldn’t handle competition in business. Sydney, stop looking guilty; you didn’t start this shit, you got taken advantage of just like the rest of us.”

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

well, Sydney still shares some blame, he's not totally absolved of his part LMAO

lil bit of the outsiders' perspective thing I was playing with. here's also a bit of the Gregory meet Cassie thing too

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

The birthday kid was a girl currently sobbing her eyes out in a corner of the Glamrock Salon in Roxy Raceway. Normally Gregory didn’t have any interest in this part of the Pizzaplex but the party was being held here and it was one of the last scheduled ones before the area would be closed off for renovation. Although calling it a party was being kind, really. Despite all the party favors and goodies for the special day, there was a noticeable lack of other kids celebrating or parents being attentive or concerned with that fact. He stood there with a plate of pizza, chewing on a slice and not really enjoying the cheese and not-meat toppings. How could he, when he could hear the poor kid being miserable just around the corner?

Eventually he just set the plate down, grabbed one of the nice cloth napkins, and took a deep breath before heading over to tend to the birthday kid and introduce himself. A birthday without a single friend to celebrate with was just fucked up and Gregory wasn’t going to let that stand. Something in his soul railed against it, demanded that a lonely kid shedding so many tears needed to be soothed come hell or high water. Well, he’ll just do it so he won’t feel guilty for eating her food. He hated feeling guilty for just trying to survive.

[501aris]

The Divide

Synopsis: There are many things you do not do in this world that is generally accepted as fact. You grow accustomed to pineapple on pizza, you're not just born liking it, you do not approach anyone with a watch blinking red, and you do not hire a(technical) high school dropout to become a teacher. Thankfully, this city also needs an Agent. I'm glad I have experience with both.

Hello! My name is 501ar, and today, you'll be getting a sneak peek to the first section of my new fanfic. The links to the first chapter are:

FF.Net Link

AO3 Link

Now, onto the snippet!

---

I stumble down the street, forest sprawling out on both sides, as I place one foot in between the faded orange lines in the middle of the street before following with the other, my sneakers, originally black but now gray from constant use and wear. My jeans are torn and worn from constant use and my white shirt hides under my body armor and a red flannel hides the armor with a black jacket tied around my waist while lugging a modded M4 in my hands.

If I had the energy to reach back I’d find a Military M870 tied to my Go-Bag and an Officer’s M9A1 tucked into a holster on my thigh. Regardless, I heave breath after breath as I focus on the holographic line on the ground, pointing me to my destination.

Little could describe how fucked I felt, much less how I looked. I managed to move and spot a car, the window intact as I spotted my visage in it and I couldn’t help but flinch.

I see a young man with brown eyes, the barest of orange in them, with his brown hair hidden by a baseball hat with his lower face being hidden by a gas mask and a tattoo of a phoenix on his neck. A few scars pop out from the collar of his shirt and he sighs. “God, I look like a mess.”

There’s a tone before a digital voice pops up. “Warning: Agent heart rate is decreasing.”

“I didn’t notice ISAC.” I mumble out loud, continuing my trek while responding to my AI companion. Or more like any Division Agent’s companion. “It’s not like my handsome visage blocks out the holes in my armor.”

The plate of the armor I wore had holes in them, the small holes numerously applied on my person and I found myself lacking armor kits to replenish the broken plates. So, it wouldn’t be a stretch to believe that a lack of armor means a lack of protection against pieces of shrapnel traveling at you at the speed of sound. Shrapnel that dug into my body worse than my mother on a bad day.

Regardless, I continue inwardly complaining while walking down the street, ignoring the pain and lightheadedness as I grunt. “C’mon, it’s only…” I glance up at the holographic number while squinting. “...Damn it, why’d I leave it in Metric? That number is way too big for it to be meters.”

I huff as I try to speed up but also not bother my injuries.

Honestly, for being the man that managed to reclaim Washington from anarchic gangs, this end is kinda disgraceful. I did not spend around three years hunting down gangsters for fun, damn it!

I didn’t attain a reputation for nothing damn it!

Slowly, with each step comes another memory, a woman, a man, a school, another man, a gun, a corpse, more and more images come to mind as I huff.

“Agent in critical condition.” ISAC speaks as I begin to sway. “Requesting backup.”

“Don’t-Don’t bother.” I mutter towards the AI, my exhaustion playing tricks on me because I know I did not hear a worried tone of voice coming from an AI. “I-I was the only one sent here anyway.”

In a radius of twenty miles, the only person there is me. The rest I slaughtered. Well, slaughter is a term used for things like innocent animals and such. I hunted them down. There’s a better way of putting it.

Before I knew it, I was face down on the tarmac, chuckling as I mutter, “Twenty-one years on this earth and this is how I die? Could be better.”

While the pulses of signals come from my ISAC brick, I drag my exhausted body forward, “Gotta...hide...gear…” I mutter, even if it’s futile since I’ll probably be a skeleton before I’m found again, the gear I’m toting is high-end, from the gloves to my pistol, everything is cleaned, modded, and cared for so it’ll reliably get me through most battles, not to mention all the SHD Tech on my person or the TAC-50 rifle on my back.

Admittedly, not my first choice, but between all the choices offered to me I’ll admit, an anti-material sniper rifle is pretty cool.

Regardless, I drag my Go-Bag off and unholster my pistol, throwing them under a rusted car overtaken by nature as I sigh. “There, now-hm?” I start before turning to the Smart Watch on my side, flashing orange as I sigh. “It all started with you, eh?”

I roll my shoulders, preparing myself as I flop forward and begin dragging myself away from my hidden gear. My eyesight blurring slowly as I flinch at the tiny rocks digging into me while chuckling. “Hopefully, they’ll serve their next user well.”

Finally, after an unknown amount of time, I pass out, heavenly darkness obscuring my sight as I release one last weak chuckle.

On these twenty-one years of my life, four of them have been used in service to the SHD, where I helped keep the peace of my hometown before going to Washington, where I nearly single-handedly wrestled it out of the hands of the Hyenas, the Outcast, and the True Sons, and kicked Black Tusk’s teeth in time after time.

I took down bounty after bounty, hunted down rogues with near religious fervor, racked up a collection of weapons and amassed a reputation by pure word of mouth. I watched Aaron Keener die in front of my eyes after shooting him with enough bullets to supply a small group, killing Faye Lau, and was generally a nuisance to anyone and anything that has been in the way between me and a peaceful life for my family.

And for that goal, I did a lot of things I regret. Maybe I’ll be seen as a murderer in the future, but as long as there’s a time for people to have the capability for people to refer to me as a murderer, then that means I succeeded. At least a cure is in the works and nearly done, so that’s something worth celebrating.

Well, I might not get to see my mom and dad again, but at least they’re proud of me.

…

Honestly, dying by blood loss after nearly being blown up by a claymore sounds like something that’d happen to me.

---

I open my eyes, one eye narrowing and the other wide as two different views invade them, on my left is the blurry figure of what seems to be a waiting room for a corporate office if not far more white. On the other eye are a series of events that seem to have no rhyme or reason.

From my ear, a voice spoke, soft and regretful, “It was all my fault. My decisions and everything they caused.”

Then, the two sights I was seeing began to merge and distort, revealing a woman in a dress pointing a gun at me and then a tablet with bullet holes on it. Neither vision was familiar and that only increased my confusion.

“It had to come to this for me to finally realize that you were right all along…” The voice spoke before I managed to open my eyes in their completion as the sight finally merged into one, revealing a young woman with long hair with a wry smile, “So forgive me for being so bold but I must ask for your help. Agent Vernes. Matt Sensei.”

How does she know those names? I don’t even let other Agents call me Matt, it’s Mateo for all of them.

In the end, I couldn’t speak as this felt like a memory while she continued uninterrupted. “You’ll forget these words, but it won’t matter. Even without your memories, you’ll probably make the same decision in the same situation...” She trails off. “Therefore, I believe what matters most are the choices we make, not the experiences we have. There are choices only you can make.” She emphasized on that as she looked out the window. “I’ve spoken of responsibility before.”

“I didn’t truly understand it then, but now I do. Adulthood, responsibility, obligation… and the choices you make that extend beyond these ideals. I even understand their implications.”

...

I can relate. I was only seventeen when the Dollar Flu forced quarantines everywhere, when my Smart Watch signal activated my status as an SHD Agent, a week before my birthday. I was a day into eighteen when the weight of my responsibility truly weighed on my mind. Do I regret it? No.

Those three years of service as a Division Agent were probably the most productive I’ve ever felt.

“Therefore, Sensei,” she says, interrupting my thoughts, “you’re the only one I can trust. Only you can free us from this twisted, distorted fate and find the choices that will lead us to a new reality.”

“So, Sensei, please…” she trails off, her mouth moving but no sound coming out as the blurry and distorted vision went into the darkness.

I open my eyes, the vision gone as my eyes widen in confusion as I look around. “...What?”

I’m in a clean office, nearly blindingly white with a large window revealing a similar city, a stark contrast to the anarchy-ridden cities of America and all over the world.

---

And here it is. Check out the complete first chapter on FF.Net and AO3. If you like it you can support me on ko-fi but other than that, please enjoy!

[r0bobitch]

TW: Eating Disorder discussion, venting

People are so needlessly cruel towards picky eaters, and all they do is make things worse.

I have ARFID. I have had it since I was a young child on account of the autism. Nothing special really. But my parents wouldn’t accept no and tried to make me “get over it”.

At first it was the normal stuff; trying to sneak in veggies (didn’t work, always immediately noticed), trying to make it fun (I don’t care you call it princess soup and it’s pink it still is gross), bribing me with sweets (I would skip the sweets willingly). So they turned to discipline, aka setting strict rules about what I needed to eat. Look, I get needing to get your kids to eat their veggies. But it quickly got toxic as they refused to hear me out that some things just made me nauseous.

I have a vivid memory of one dinner time where we had steamed green beans and butter as a side. I hate green beans, the outer part is bitter and the inner beans slide out and I can’t swallow. But I wasn’t allowed to leave till I ate them all. I tried to, and then ran to the toilet to throw up because my stomach flipped. And then I was told to get back to the table and continue eating after emptying my stomach. I did that a couple more times, before getting into more trouble because I was “making myself sick and wasting food” and “running back and forth to spit food into the toilet to avoid eating”. This whole ordeal lasted hours.

Thing is, my food issues aren’t just limited to veggies. I don’t like hotdogs. I didn’t eat pizza until I was 9 and make my own from scratch and realised it was alright if it was only cheese and deep pan. I didn’t like any kind of cake which made birthday parties embarrassing, and even now only really like one or two specific types of sponge cake.

The only reason my family backed off about my food was due to a summer wilderness camp thing my school did. It was a 3-day trip into a camp and we did all sort of fun active stuff. I loved it. But the food served there was the kind I didn’t like even when it was well prepared, and that wasn’t. So all I ate for for two whole days of incredibly strenuous activity was a handful of dry plain cereal. By the third I threw up and then fainted and wen home early, where my mum gave me a safe food and I got better. That was the wake-up call for her.

But of course by that point my relationship with food was all sorts of fucked and I’m still trying to unlearn that stuff. Trying to get myself to try new foods is nerve racking because I hate “wasting” food, and I still half expect to be yelled at if I don’t like something or even can’t finish it. I also got used to skipping meals and ignoring hunger, which is not a good combo for ADHD. And when I do finally eat I will try and clear my plate, meaning if I make too much I will overeat and make things worse.

My parents weren’t malicious. I know they were just doing what they could, trying to get me to eat healthy while also on a budget. They didn’t know how to feed an autistic child. But that doesn’t change the fact they fucked up and I have to deal with the consequences.

(Also my dad also has his own food idiosyncrasies since my disorders likely came from him, but they were always accommodated without question. Like we never discussed why we only ate roast chicken when he was at work because he didn’t like it.)

[lesabreloop]

Episode 2: "The LeSabre Loop & The Talmudic Sorcerer of the Bronx"

Title: That Time I Got Fisted in the Back Seat of a Buick Lesabre While Eating Top Ramen in June

Episode 2: "The LeSabre Loop & The Sorcerer of the Bronx"

FADE IN:

INT. 1986 BUICK LESABRE - NIGHT Kaname bolts awake in the back seat, a half-eaten cup of ramen still in her lap. She groans.

KANAME (muttering) If I have to wake up in this crusty-ass car one more time…

The TALKING KOREAN CAT hops onto the dashboard, puffing on his tiny cigarette.

TALKING KOREAN CAT You will. Until you stop being stupid.

Kaname glares at him and shovels a bite of ramen into her mouth.

KANAME Okay, so what’s the deal? Why this car? Why 1986? And why does my ramen never spill?

TALKING KOREAN CAT Quantum stabilization. Your consciousness resets every time you sleep outside the Lesabre. You have to figure out how to break the loop.

KANAME And what happens if I don’t?

TALKING KOREAN CAT (deathly serious) You become Keith.

Kaname freezes mid-bite, eyes wide in horror.

KANAME Oh hell no.

EXT. PIZZA HUT - NIGHT Kaname and Keith sit in a booth, a large pan pizza steaming between them. Keith, ever the tragic simp, keeps sneaking lovestruck glances at Kaname.

KEITH So, uh, I was thinking, since we’re trapped in a time loop and all, maybe we could… you know… go to prom together?

Kaname slaps a slice onto her plate with zero enthusiasm.

KANAME Keith, I would rather lick the floor of a 7-Eleven bathroom.

Keith sighs dramatically, resting his chin in his hands.

KEITH You say that now, but I know deep down, there’s a spark between us—

Before Keith can finish, the restaurant lights flicker. A cold wind howls through the Pizza Hut, making the red plastic cups tremble.

KARL (gripping his whiskey bottle) Oh, hell. He’s here.

The front door swings open, revealing MORDECAI GOLDSTEIN—a towering figure in a long black coat, yarmulke adorned with arcane symbols, and glowing blue Talmudic scrolls hovering around him. His voice is like gravel and thunder.

MORDECAI (booming) Who dares tamper with the threads of fate in my domain?

Keith shrieks and dives under the table. Kaname, still chewing her pizza, raises an eyebrow.

KANAME (sarcastic) Oh great, a time wizard. Let me guess—this is the part where you monologue?

Mordecai extends a hand, and the floating scrolls unravel, spewing forth golden Hebrew letters that crackle with energy.

MORDECAI You mock forces beyond your comprehension, girl! The Buick Lesabre is a conduit of ancient power, and you… you are an anomaly that must be corrected!

Karl stumbles to his feet, dramatically pointing at Mordecai.

KARL Not today, bagel boy!

Karl hurls his whiskey bottle, but Mordecai waves a hand and transmutes it into a gefilte fish midair. It lands with a wet slap against the table.

Kaname wipes her mouth, stands up, and cracks her knuckles.

KANAME Alright, magic rabbi. Let’s dance.

KEITH (from under the table) Please don’t kill my wife!

MORDECAI Silence, worm!

Mordecai slams his hands together, and the entire Pizza Hut warps into an ancient temple, the walls shifting into massive stone carvings covered in Hebrew inscriptions. The employees remain unfazed, one of them still assembling a salad bar in the background.

Kaname glances around, unimpressed.

KANAME Okay, that’s kinda cool.

TALKING KOREAN CAT (scoffs) Meh, I’ve seen better.

Mordecai raises his arms, and golden light pulses through the temple. The very air hums with energy as a colossal spectral golem forms behind him, its eyes burning with righteous fury.

MORDECAI You will not escape the judgment of the Elders!

KANAME (unbothered) Cool. So, do I punch you, or the golem?

KARL (grinning) Hit 'em both, kid.

Kaname stretches, rolling her shoulders.

KANAME Alright then.

She lunges forward, fist cocked back, ready to start the fight of a lifetime.

FADE TO BLACK.

[briamichellewrites]

31

Bria and Mike invited Joe, Phoenix, and Jason to hang out at her place. They were all home from being on the road. Joe didn’t know why he was invited since he felt like the fifth wheel. Was it just to be inclusive? He didn’t want to bother her or Mike by bringing it up. She ordered pizza for them and two liters of soda for them. It was delicious! The animals didn’t know what they were eating, but they wanted it! Woody tried sneaking a piece of pizza, but Phoenix caught him.

Meow! His paws hit the floor. He was not happy about not getting what he wanted. The dogs whined while Buddy licked his lips. Missy got on her hind legs to see if she could get a bite. Nope. Jason told them no. The ingredients would only make them feel sick. Still, they whined and begged. She got up and they followed her into the kitchen.

She gave them some treats. It wasn’t the same but it was better than nothing. Since they were getting a treat, Woody wanted his treat. Phoenix joked that she had three children. It felt like that. They laughed as she came back to the table and continued eating.

For the first time, she was able to use her refrigerator since they had leftovers. She was so excited to finally use her refrigerator!

“Oh my god! Rosita would be so proud of me!”

They laughed when Phoenix called her adorable. They would have gone out for dinner, but they were too tired. Did she know how to use her microwave? She wasn’t sure. They gave her step-by-step instructions. It was super simple. She just needed to take the amount of pizza she wanted from the pizza box, put the slices on a microwave-safe plate, and then microwave it for thirty seconds.

She could call them if she needed help. I think I got it. They laughed. Even though she was privileged, she was also super adorable. She wasn’t stuck up or entitled. They went upstairs to her room. The animals followed behind them. Since coming home, they followed her everywhere to make sure she wasn’t leaving again. She had her suitcase open on her bed because she was in the process of going through it and sorting everything.

She had clothes that probably cost hundreds of thousands of dollars, different pairs of shoes, and hygiene supplies. Shampoo, conditioner, a hair dryer, a hairbrush, a toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, dental floss, a package of single-use facial masks, a container for her medications, makeup, deodorant, facial wash, and a small tub of Vaseline.

“Do I want to know why you have Vaseline”, Joe asked.

“It’s for chapped lips and hands.”

Oh! They laughed. She jokingly told him to get his mind out of the gutter. He was embarrassed because that was not what he was expecting! They teased him a little before moving on. Her clothes went into her closet. She had them washed before packing them up, so they just needed to be hung up or folded. Woody poked his head into the suitcase.

Is anything in there for me? No. It was all human stuff. Jason scratched his head. After everything was sorted away, she put her suitcase into her closet. She would be receiving packages in the mail. What were they? They were just things she bought on tour that were unable to fit into her suitcase. It was just easier to ship them to her house. What did she buy? Wine, mostly but she also bought handbags and shoes. Of course, she did. They laughed.

Mike asked her when Céline and Renè were flying in. They were coming in a week. Were they staying with her? No, she offered but they respectfully declined because they wanted their privacy. She thought that was fair.

She did have an appointment with her therapist in a couple of days. Was it just a routine appointment? Yes, though it was believed she had been misdiagnosed with PTSD. What did she have instead? Complex PTSD. Her therapist thought that she had it because of the multiple traumatic events in her life. She also suspected she had residual trauma from her birth mother.

Which one was more severe? C-PTSD. That diagnosis was for people who had ongoing trauma, as opposed to one event. She had been born with Neonatal Abstinence Syndrome, the death of her parents, and September 11th as her traumas. Her mother had poverty, childhood abuse – physical and mental by her alcoholic father, and domestic violence by her boyfriend. He physically and sexually abused her while under the influence of drugs.

What happened to her on September 11th? Jason knew about the attacks, but how did they affect her? Mike asked her if she was okay to talk about it. Yes, she could.

“I was in New York on September eleventh. I was in town to put my family’s apartment on the market, so I was staying at the World Trade Center Hotel. I was asleep when the first plane hit. It woke me up. The hotel manager knocked on my door, so I threw on a pair of pants. He told me that the hotel was being evacuated. I packed everything into my suitcase before going out to the street.”

Debris and dust were falling everywhere. She looked up and saw a huge hole in the first tower. It was on fire with smoke coming out. She was so transfixed that she couldn’t move. People were bleeding, screaming, crying, and running away. But, she couldn’t move because she was frozen. A guy grabbed her and told her to run, so she did. She ran until she got to a safe place. Eventually, she got down to the ferries where she was able to get passage to New Jersey.

“That’s the only way I can describe what happened because multiple things were going on at the same time. There were police, firefighters, ambulances. They were running to the towers while we were running away from them. I called my friends, Jon and Dorothea. He drove up and picked me up. I stayed with them until I could fly home.”

That would be extremely traumatic. How was flying? It was hard. She had to distract herself by listening to music. Her therapist also prescribed her medication to help her with her anxiety. The reason why she got evaluated was because she was having trouble sleeping. She was taking melatonin for that because she couldn’t be given sleep medication. Why not? There was a possibility of her becoming addicted, especially since she had the genetics for addiction.

The melatonin worked wonders! She slept like a baby… or a dog. What about a cat? They didn’t actually sleep like humans did because their ears were always active. So, a part of them was still awake. It was part of their instincts. Because of danger, they had to be ready to get up and move. Dogs went into full REM sleep, like humans.

“The vet told me that. I thought it was interesting.”

“So, a dog sleeps like a baby. Except they don’t wake up every few hours crying”, Phoenix said.

That would be fucking creepy if they started crying like babies. They laughed. She told them another fact. When cats wanted attention, their meow resembled a baby’s cry. Humans were more likely to respond to them because of their instincts to take care of babies. Even if they just wanted food at six in the morning. They laughed.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon