#been doing laundry all day but our machines are in the basement and tell me why I’m getting a full body workout every time I have to do

[jordanshenessy]

Also I want to sleep so bad but the fucking comforter is in the dryer and it won’t dry properly GAHHHHHHH

[causenessus]

NO I GET ANXIETY- MY BRAIN GOES “wait patiently till your ask gets answered before sending another one.” AND I GO 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ “we are not to be annoying, they have lives outside of tumblr (unlike me) and are not chronically online.” SO I JUST GET ANXIOUS- OR I GET ANXIOUS THAT MY ASKS GET EATEN. OR WORSE. I FORGET TO TURN ON ANON. Not even going to lie, I have almost sent these in without anon so many times bcs I’m not used to yapping at people 😭😭😭 like for the entirety I’ve had my tumblr this is like one of the first times I’m using anon not to request things and just yapping.

I shall try my best to get over my anxiety…like my friends will tell you I’m a chronic like paragraph texter (will send fifteen messages and not care if you respond right away even if I’m writing paragraphs) but the minute I have to like email one of my teachers??? Or ask someone something??? Or send in yapping asks???? No. Like suddenly I get anxious that I’m being annoying- anyways…

YES THE BASEMENT IS NICER. That’s actually why my mom suggested it. Sure it’s smaller than my current room and obv doesn’t have like a closet but! It has its own bathroom, and the laundry room is down here and I’m sure I could add more closet space in there. Since I’m almost a real adult (not really, I’m just 18 and a soon to be no longer high schooler) she wants me to have more privacy especially since her boyfriend will be moving in. So very slowly I am cleaning my room.

OMG YOU’RE SO SWEET THOUGH. I WOULD FEEL BAD IF YOU WERE TO HELP THOUGH LOL. Like my friends have offered to help and I’m just like “😀 it’s like embarrassingly depression. Like needs to be cleaned I cannot see my floor. I can’t make you clean that.” But I appreciate the in spirit help 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ <3

Yeah my senior year is pretty chill. I go to a career tech school so I only have 4 classes and then lunch and then after that I finally get to go to lab (basically where we learn our career stuff). I’m taking English Comp 1 + 2 but that’s the only like higher level course I’m taking. The teacher is so sweet though, like he has a coffee and espresso machine in his room and supplies coffee, creamer, milk, and sugar for us and doesn’t make us pay. He actually encourages it 😭😭😭 he’s like “Are you tired? Oh, why don’t we go make you a cup of coffee yeah?” And then if you bring your own mug he tells you to leave it and he washes it for you and like puts it in the cupboard. Genuinely my fave teacher this year. He also never had the lights on, like he has fairy lights all around his room and then he has soft music playing in the background (The Smiths, Cigarettes After Sex, and some others). His room is so chill and comforting.

The school wanted me to take Collegr Algebra but I said no (mostly bcs I don’t need it for my degree. Culinary/ Pastry majors take business math or at least where I live they do) because the school messed up and I wasn’t supposed to take a math last year (I already had four credits cause I took 2 math classes sophomore yr) but was put in one anyway. So I wanted 1 year where I didn’t have to take math 😭😭😭

All my other classes are pretty easy, they’re both history lol. Or I guess maybe a science and history? They were both labeled as history when I was picking classes so- I have to take American History (like World History isn’t just American History expanded 😒) and Criminology (which is kinda sick ngl- like we’re only on the second week of school but it’s fun so far. We watch movies every Friday and connect them to themes about sociology/criminology).

The only other class I have is study hall and bcs all my classes are so easy I don’t do anything in there except try to write fics to post or read fics other people have posted. Slowly making my way through my drafts. Very slowly. But! Progress nonetheless!!!!

IT’S GONNA BE A WHOLE SEVEN DAYS AND MY MOM IS PAYING FOR MY BEST FRIEND OF 7 years (omg it has been 7 years. Hold on I need to throw up-) TO GO WITH US!!!! My graduation present was supposed to be going to Europe but apparently not all of us have been saving money to go 😒 /lh (adult stuff happened that they had to pay off and we’re gonna have a lot more fun when I’m 21 anyway). I DO DESERVE IT! SCHOOL IS HARD BUT I DIDN’T QUIT AND I GOT GOOD GRADES SOPHMORE YEAR ON (freshman year is when the depression room started 😭😭😭😭). Also kinda glad I’m not going to Europe anymore bcs I’m like terrified of planes. Like no joke I get such bad panic attacks, I hyperventilate and my eyes tear up (and that’s just taking off don’t get me started on turbulence!) like it’s not a fun time. (OF COURSE I’LL CHECK IN BEFORE THEN!!! I HAVE TO YAP TO YOU DUH!)

TURNS OUT I WAS READING THE WRONG SCHOOL EMAILS. (For a little context: I still get emails from my “home” school or the school I went to before the career tech school. I get two graduations because I’m technically part of both schools) AND MY SCHOOL DOESN’T TAKE LIKE SENIOR PORTRAITS. 😔😔😔 my senior photos for like graduation announcements and stuff are Saturday though 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🥰🥰🥰

THE PURPLE AND PINK IS PROBS MY FAVORITE HAIR I’VE HAD SO FAR. NOW THE ONLY COLORS I HAVEN’T DONE ARE ORANGE AND GREEN. That does sound so cool WTH!!! Aww I’m sorry :((( I have white people hair that lightens really well lol- thank you mom! ALSO!!! IF YOUR SISTER BLEACHED HER HAIR BUT IT WAS YELLOW/ORANGE THAT’S WHY IT TURNED GREEN/GREY!!! MY HAIR DID THAT ONE TIME! YOU JUST NEED TO TONE IT AND THEN HOPEFULLY IT WILL WORK! 🫶🏻

Listen- I love Suna okay but he’s not like husband. He’s a great character DON’T GET ME WRONG. But there’s just some other characters I like a little 🤏🏻🤏🏻🤏🏻 better than him. however, my irl friend told me I could pull Suna, Timeskip! Osamu, Tendō, and Seijoh 4 (minus Oikawa) so. Confidence??? RAISED ABOVE THE ROOF. ME??? PULL TIMESKIP! OSAMU????? ME??? PULL?? MATSUKAWA ISSEI (HANAMAKI TAKAHAIRO’S FAVORITE FOOD)???? LIKE ???? Little old me???? [sidenote: I love these men but they’re too tall. I KNOW. NO ONE HAS EVER SAID THAT. But I’m a little guy and I would be concerned about their backs from how far they would have to bend down to kiss me 😭😭😭 like 5’ 7 already makes me stand on my tiptoes- so please. Give me a short king. GIVE ME YAKU. But also at the same time I love these men and would NEVER say no if they took me out]

NO I MUST STAY STRONG. I MUSN’T JOIN THE SELF SHIPPING HOURS ❗️❗️❗️❗️

I have failed! I’M JOINING. AND IT’S FRIDAY WHERE I’M AT SO. HAH!

I need Love Notes! Osamu religiously (you can determine what that means).

MAC N CHEESE WITH ORANGE JUICE IS EVIL. Like I already don’t like orange juice (apple juice anon for life [please don’t start a war I’m not fighting. If you like orange juice then like orange juice. I just don’t] <3). In all honesty I’m not that much of a pranker however. 😏 I AM an enabler. I’m the brains and Osamu is the one who executes the plan. I sit there and hand him things.

Speaking of self ship Friday I’ll ask and answer some questions!

Favorite couple thing you guys do?

Me + Love Notes! Osamu enjoy baking our own like fruit bars to eat during movie marathons. What do you and Suna like to do?

Favorite kind of hug?

I’m partial to a back hug but I think that’s bcs my friends do it so often to me. Like arms around waist, chin on head, 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ little head kiss? Heaven.

Do you guys play video games together? If so what do you play and how?

I would force Love Notes! Osamu to play Stardew Valley bcs I have an addiction and everyone I love must play with me at some point (I got my grandma to play, she was very disappointed that she couldn’t romance Gus or the Wizard which really for that). Osamu def tries to blow up the character I’m trying to romance. 😔😔😔😔 But he also probably grinds the mines so I can have pretty rocks. What’s your favorite game to play with Suna?

And the self shipping section of our night comes to a close folks. Tune in next week for more with Bakery Anon and Ness! <3

I think a man (Suna, Osamu, Sakusa. OIKAWA.) sending me a photo of him all bloodied up and smirking I would gen faint. Like swoon. “Is that the light I see? Is it getting closer?” Like I want pathetic beat up men while they’re also able to manhandle me and throw me over their shoulder if they really wanted to. Is that too much to ask???

MANGO ANON <3333 OMG I LOVE THEM!!! I LOVE READING THEIR YAP SESSIONS THEY FILL ME WITH JOY!!!! <3333 mango anon if you’re reading this I love you, keep being silly and full of whimsy <333

OIKAWA IS SO IMPORTANT TO ME. Like I relate to him on a level I don’t even understand. Can I just work on how I ABSOLUTELY ADORED BINARY STARS. I THINK IT WAS ONE OF THE FIRST THINGS I READ WHEN I MADE THIS ACCOUNT. IT WAS DELECTABLE AND I ENJOYED EVERY MINUTE OF IT. I’m not gonna lie, when I get bored Oikawa is who I draw. He is my comfort drawing character. When I try something new for art but need to draw something to test it on I draw him 🧍🏻‍♀️ not everyone is made equal.

Oikawa as a side character in smau’s is so satisfying because he’s usually there with Hinata causing chaos and I love them. Oihina friendship dynamic fills me with such joy. They’re so WHIMSY (yes this is my favorite word rn besides “very cutesy. Very mindful. Very demure.”) I agree though, he’s a very good side character. If he was the main character I don’t think the story (hq) would have the same feel (no duh) like I think it would feel a lot more serious and angsty. Oikawa can be a main character but he’s such a good like foil??? Is that the right word- for Kageyama that he’s the perfect side character.

Like the way both of them work so hard to reach their goals and still somehow fail before they reach them (beating Shiratorizawa and then Kageyama having a team that trusts them so they can win) but eventually they overcome those hardships and get their goals. Does Oikaw beat Shiratorizawa? No and yes, he doesn’t physically beat them no. But he beats them because he gets over his mental challenge of not thinking he’s even good enough to try to beat them. He wins because he starts believing in himself. And Kageyama gets Karasuno (and Hinata) where he learns to trust them and learns it’s okay to fall back on people and you don’t have to do it all on your own (a lesson Oikaaa has to learn too-) and they go to Nationals.

DON’T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THE WHOLE “b-but he abused Kageyama 🥺🥺🥺” like stfu. Oikawa was a MIDDLE SCHOOLER. LIKE 14-15 HAVING A PANIC ATTACK. Everyone likes to talk about “Oh just feel your emotions it’s okay to have them.” Until someone having a mental break does something that someone does on a breakdown. Like Oikawa was a child who wasn’t thinking clearly, you can see him literally panic during when he tries to hit Kageyama and then after he just kind of shuts down. STOP BLAMING A MIDDLE SCHOOLER FOR HAVING A PANIC ATTACK AND RESPONDING IN A WAY THAT SOMEONE NOT THINKING CLEARLY WOULD RESPOND.

SORRY ENOUGH YAPPING ABOUT OIKAWA BCS I FEAR I WILL NEVER STOP IF I DON’T NOW.

Okay! HAVE A GOOD DAY!!!!

For everyone who made it this far: I want you to know you’re loved. You are worthy of love. You are worthy of your desires, you deserve to be loved the way you want to be loved. Whether that be in the small hours of the morning or in the loud evening lights. You deserve love, you deserve food, you’re beautiful. If no one else tells you today. I love you!

For Ness: YOU’RE WONDERFUL. THANN YOU FOR YAPPING WITH ME AND MATCHING MY ENERGY. I’m so sorry this ask is so long- I’ll be back to yap about try again later!!!! Your writing is lovely and I finally have time to read it!!! <3333 go have a little snack you deserve it. I hope you sleep well <3

<3

-sincerely bakery anon 🍪

BUG I AM FINALLY HERE OMG I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO THANKFUL FOR DMS BC I WOULD'VE CRIED IF I HADN'T BEEN ABLE TO TALK TO YOU FOR LIKE TWO WEEKS!!!! <3 AND NO OMG I GET ALL OF THOSE ANXIETIES 😭😭😭 ESPECIALLY THE ONES ABOUT AN ASK GETTING EATEN OR IF I FORGOT TO TURN ON ANON!!!! and dw i don't have a life outside of tumblr 😔😔😔😔😔 i am just forced to have responsible human duties aka school!!! but it's not by choice!! </333

omg bug i cannot cannot cannot tell you how excited i am to read this ask like i keep reading bits of it and hearing about buggykawa AND I AM SHAKING!!!!

and aa the moving into the basement sounds so so fun and nice!! i definitely get like the extra room and everything <3 i cannot remember how much i told you but for a little bit i lived with my sister who was rooming with a friend in a house so they got the top floor and she got the basement and it was really nice!!! and i would move into my basement in my house now but my dad basically uses it as his closet and i don't like the bed down there 😭 but it's okay!!! my room is a little cozy too so i don't mind it <3

AND OMG DW I KNOW WHAT DIRTY ROOMS FEEL LIKE </33 I'M SURE I'VE ALREADY MENTIONED THIS BUT I JUST THROW EVERYTHING ONTO MY FLOOR AND DESK WHEN I GET HOME </33 there's like two bags on my floor at all time for when i go out, a random ziplock bag i always slip on, a camera bag, a trashcan in the way of my dresser (the TOP of my dresser is stacked with clothes) my desk is a mess of scripts and random stationery, and my chair has an unfolded blanket that bothers me so much!! (i promise my room is cozy!! i feel like as i describe my room it sounds worse than it really is but it lowk is that bad SO I GET IT DON'T WORRY) SO I WOULD GLADLY HELP YOU!! I'M ACTUALLY ON THE WAY NOW DON'T WORRY 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

and oh my god what??????????????? your english teacher?????? please bug please i need to go to your school please let me transfer schools PLEASE HE SOUNDS SO NICE like the exquisite music taste?? the fairy lights?? the COFFEE MACHINE??? THE FACT THAT HE WASHES YOUR MUG FOR YOU GUYS?? okay and see this is why i am fighting professions rn bc i want to be a teacher and have a cozy room but i really really want to go into psychology too I CAN'T </333 your english teacher sounds so so sweet!!! please i'll do anything i want him so bad omg i'm crying </3 like genuinely felt a pang of???? sadness?? READING ABOUT HOW COMFY HIS ROOM SOUNDS WHY IS MY SCHOOL FILLED WITH DRUGGY KIDS WHO SNORT COCAINE OFF THEIR DESKS RIGHT IN FRONT OF THEIR TEACHERS 😔😔😔😔😔😔 (true story. i cannot even make that up. i have nothing else to say abt it.)

and aa your classes sound so fun!! i have college algebra second semester but i'm so ready/excited for (hopefully) how easy it's going to be bc last year i fought for my life in trig/pre-calc (THE ONLY CLASS I'VE EVER GOTTEN A B IN IT MADE ME SO MAD AND I WAS SO CLOSE TO AN A BUT I DIDN'T DO AMAZING ON THE FINAL AND I HAD TO BE AT AN 88% OR HIGHER FOR HER TO ROUND MY GRADE AND MY FINAL BROUGHT ME DOWN TO LIKE AN 86 OR SOMETHING 😔😔😔 but i've kept my 4.0 thanks to ap classes <33) AND CRIMINOLOGY IS FUN!! i knew some people who took it last year and they had a blast <3 this semester i have english, sociology, tech theatre, i'm a ta for my acting director teacher, and econ!!! so it's a mix of good and bad classes </3 like econ sucks but i have an amazing teacher who was also my teacher for ap psych last year!!! english kind of sucks, i really actually didn't want to take tech theatre this year but i have to bc i'm basically like in charge of our tech department tbh 😔and i love being a ta for my acting director!! (i tried to be one for him last year but basically i walked into his office which he shares with my tech director and my tech director was the only one there and i asked him where my acting director [we'll call him G to make this easier and my tech director is W] was and W was like "he's not here today. just be a ta for me." and i was like "okay 😃" WORST DECISION OF MY LIFE THAT MAN WORKED ME TO THE BONE being his ta basically meant i was in both tech theatre classes [where we build the sets and i have to carry the lighting department on my back, etc.] BUT i only got like 0.25 credits for it i think?? while taking the actual tech class was 0.5 credits </33 so i really burned myself out last year BUT ANYWAY)

AND NO I TOTALLY GET IT I'M SO SCARED OF PLANES TOO!!! like the way especially that they start all shaky and everything and it just feels so unreal being in one in a bad way they scare me so bad!!! and like i randomly got forced to go on an impulse trip with my mom and her parents on a cruise to Mexico???????? which is WORSE BC I'M TERRIFIED OF WATER!!! the only reason i'm excited to go is bc my mom's parents are the one who just gifted me a camera (and why there's a camera bag on my bedroom floor) AND I AM SO SO EXCITED TO USE IT AND LIVE OUT MY LOVE NOTES YN LIFE!!!!! but other than that i'll permanently be locked away in my room praying that the cruise ship doesn't randomly stop working and i die </33 i'm so scared tbh aaaa

AND OH NO SO LIKE DO YOU NOT EVEN HAVE TO TAKE A SENIOR PHOTO??? i'm so jealous of how many colors you've dyed your hair!!!! my mother's pitch black asian hair definitely ruined all my dreams of having colorful hair 😔😔😔 i just stick to like red highlights bc i think they suit me and it's the only color my hair will maintain!! 😭

AND NO OMG I GET IT 😭 SOMETIMES I THINK ABOUT THE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THOSE MEN AND ME AND LIKE BRO I AM MAYBE JUST BARELY 5'3 AND IT TOOK ME 4 YEARS TO GROW THAT INCH BC BEFORE THAT I HAD THIS MOMENT IN 7TH GRADE WHERE MY DOCTOR TOLD ME I WAS BASICALLY 5 FOOT AND COULD EVEN LIE AND SAY I WAS 5'1 AND THEN I GOT MEASURED AT SCHOOL AND THEY WERE LIKE "lmao no. you're 4'11 pookie" SO I DID NOT GET ANY OF THE HEIGHT GENES I THINK THE VOLLEYBALL BOYS STOLE ALL MINE 😔😔😔 AND I DEFINITELY AGREE WITH YOUR FRIEND WHO SAID WHO YOU COULD PULL!!! ALTHOUGH I THINK YOU COULD ALSO PULL OIKAWA <3 like i think he'd be a sucker for someone super sweet!! especially if they like baked for him yk?? HE'S SOLD he's never been in a kitchen in his life but for you?? he'll happily stand there all day just watching you with a look of love in his eyes <333

AND HELP I LOVE HOW YOU TRIED TO RESIST SELF SHIPPING 😭😭😭 BUT I'M SO GLAD YOU FAILED!!! WELCOME TO THE CLUB BUG <33333

and dw!! i actually don't really like any juices 😭😭 like orange juice is too tangy and sweet and citrusy and pulpy for me (i am so so picky) and apple juice is WAY too sweet for me (apples lowk make me feel sick anyway for some reason?? i think i was just not built for sweet things anyway unfortunately </33)

AND AW THE FRUIT BARS TOGETHER?? okay please and thinking about you and osamu like going to the grocery store together too to like buy the ingredients you need and he's always following you around holding the basket for you </3 and the both of you knowing how to pick out good produce and everything like that <3 LIKE YOU GUYS WERE MADE FOR EACH OTHER AND COMPLEMENT EACH OTHER SO WELL IT'S SO SO CUTE!!!

for suna and me i think we just like lazing around or rotting in cafes all day <3 like we'll steal booths (my favorite cafe which i'm at now has little booth benches!!) and sit next to each other and just lean on each other watching movies or doing our own work the entire day <333 and even when we go out to restaurants we lowk like sitting next to each other more than sitting across from each other!! and ik most couples like sitting across from each other to like see each other but if he wants to see me and i'm not looking at him he'll just hold the side of my face and turn me towards him anyway <3 (our servers always get sick of us by the end </3)

AND NO HUGS FROM BEHIND ARE SO SO SOFT AND ADORABLE AND WARM AND I LOVE THEM TOO!!! and i know like them being from osamu?? he'd literally have to hold me up bc my knees would turn to jelly and give out being in his arms </3

AND OMG I LOVE STARDEW VALLEY TOO <3 I AM DEF MAKING SUAN PLAY WITH ME AND WE CAN HAVE BUGMU SUNESS STARDEW VALLEY CO OP NIGHTS!! <3333 you're so real for making everyone play too like i've bought sdv for three friends at this point i think?? bc i love it so much and i just want other people to play it too!! YOUR GRANDMA TRYING TO ROMANCE GUS/THE WIZARD IS SO REAL 😭😭 i love giving gifts to gus!! like that man fr deserves the world <3 I CAN IMAGINE OSAMU TRYING TO BLOW UP WHOEVER YOU TRY TO ROMANCE AND LIKE GUS/THE SALOON TOO 😭 simply bc he's like "i could make a better restaurant like let me build an onigiri miya here rn!!!!" also imagining osamu coming home from the mines at like 1 am bc you've been yelling at him to get back before 2 am for the past 10 minutes and he's just like "but i needed to get u pretty rock!! <3" i am in love with u guys. i am the #1 bugmu stan for life

BUG WE HAVE TO DO SELF SHIP TUESDAY OR WEDNESDAY LIKE I CANNOT!!! I NEED TO HEAR MORE ABOUT YOU GUYS OMG <3

and me too completely omg the duality of a man??? pathetic but can manhandle me?? like i'm turning into putting in a man's arms i'm ngl he can have his way with me i am so down bad for suna hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I LOVE MANGO ANON TOO!!! MANGO ANON IF YOU'RE READING THIS BUG AND I ARE STARTING A MANGO ANON FAN CLUB!!!!!! WE'RE YOUR BIGGEST FANS WE LOVE YOU SO SO MUCH <33

AND OMG I'M GLAD YOU LIKED BINARY STARS 😭😭 BC IT WAS FR JUST A TEST RUN BUT THAT MAKES ME HAPPY TO HEAR!! and i wish i could draw!! i would totally draw oikawa if i could but i think it'd end up looking like a really disfigured pinwheel or hazelnut or someting idk BUT EITHER WAY I WOULD NEVER EVEN TRY TO DRAW HIM BC I WOULD BUTCHER IT 😭😭 I WAS NOT BUILT FOR DRAWING

AND YES FOIL IS THE RIGHT WORD!! and i totally get what you mean!! like he is such a perfect side character and i would love to be on the sides with him yk <3 like what's that margaret atwood quote about not being the people written about on paper but in the white spaces on the edges of paper?? that's oikawa and me <33 i love him so much just the way he is!! he's absolutely perfect and i love how he's always causing chaos <3

AND YES OMG OIKAWA MENTALLY BEATING SHIRATORIZAWA BECAUSE HE GREW INTO HIMSELF AND LIKE WHO HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE :(( EVENTUALLY FINDING HIS PLACE IN LIFE IS GOING TO MAKE ME CRY!!!! AND SO REAL!!!!! LIKE I LOVE KAGEYAMA TOO BUT I WILL NOT ACCEPT ANY STAN WHO DOESN'T LIKE OIKAWA BC HE WAS MEAN TO KAGEYAMA OR WHATEVER like take one good look at tsukki and yams and tell me you hate tsukki bc he's mean LIKE IK IT'S A DIFFERENT DYNAMIC BUT JUST!! YOU GET WHAT I MEAN!! BEING MEAN TO SOMEONE AND ESPECIALLY WHEN OIKAWA WAS A MIDDLE SCHOOLER AND GOING THROUGH A LOT IS NOT A VALID REASON TO NOT LIKE SOMEONE!!!

BUT BUG OMG I LOVE YOU SO MUCH I HOPE YOU'RE HAVING A WONDERFUL DAY!! FORGIVE ME FOR HOW LONG IT TOOK ME TO GET AROUND TO ANSWERING THIS BUT I AM SO SO GLAD THAT I AM FINALLY ANSWERING IT!!!! YOU ARE SO LOVELY I LOVE YOU SO MUCH BUG YOU DESERVE FOOD AND ALL THE LOVE AND ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING GOOD IN THE WORLD!! I LOVE YAPPING WITH YOU AND IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY TO YAP WITH SOMEONE ABOUT SELF SHIPS AND OIKAWA AND JUST EVERYTHING OMG YOU'RE THE ABSOLUTE BEST AND I AM FOREVER THE NO. 1 BUGMU STAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM PRESIDENT OF THE BUGMU AND MANGO ANON FAN CLUBS!!!!! NO ONE CAN OVERTHROW ME!!!! <3333 I LOVE YOU SO MUCH BUG <333

[pokemon-ash-aus]

I also had the soft nice thought of obviously later after graduating with degrees ect Peach gets her own Iab maybe with prof oak help and invites her friend over to see and also cause well lore time she supposes, so Peach shows her her lab and the friend is just so thrilled for her like "Oh my Arceus....Peachyy this is brilliant!! You absolutely deserve this wow" just hell YEA friend is doing well! Friend is getting good things!! She's just really happy for Peach and knows Peach absolutely deserves all these good things without a shadow of a doubt like dang you really earned this bestie

And Peach is just lmao letting her friend admire the equipment and space ect before confessing that there's something else she wants to show her and the friend is just oh there's more?? You got a basement? Did you get your fossil ressurection license already??? Do you have the machine??

Just being a bit of a nerd and Peach laughs lightly telling her to settle down ya great nerd as if they both aren't nerds before dropping Transform and revealing her mewtwo form and friend is *buffering processing dial up noise* before kinda just "wow you're beautiful" because brain empty but friend be pretty!!! Cause she's probably always loved Peach in a bestie way absolutely gassed her up a lot lmao cause she thought she was wonderful and pretty and a kind caring soul. Before being like "ah sorry that was probably rude! Thank you for showing me for sharing?" like how the fuck does one respond to this internally like 'thank you for sharing?? What with the class?? Is this kindergarten or something silly bitch?' just mentally regretting sentence while also her science brain is running a thousand miles a minute cause what does this mean?? Before like emotional brain hits it with a stick because that's our FRIEND we don't have to understand!! She's shown us and we're grateful

Peach can probably half see the smoke of her friends brain being confused but she can hear her thoughts basically saying doesn't matter is friend and she was probably already pretty comfortable if she shared this.

Then the friend proceeds to lmao ask zero follow up questions at all about it like welp this is how it is now XD and Peach is probably kind of amused because she's always been pretty dang respectful in that way probably playfully bumps into her like "you're really curious and you wanna know more don't you?"

And she's just "ahhh I'm sorry I dooooo but you're my friend and that'd be really rude to do thatttt" and Peach just laughs and gives her permission to ask

I think at one point the friend asks like where Peach's lisp and stutter went because she'd have swapped to telepathy and Peach explains and friend is kinda like oh makes sense, while missing her actual spoken voice but not saying because she respects Peach chose to switch cause she must prefer telepathy so shes in no right to like bring it up last thing she wants to do is make Peach uncomfortable or self conscious or anything

If in an alternative had seen two Pepper before seeing two Peach she would be like OH THINGS MAKE A LOT MORE SENSE NOW.

But lmao since she hasn't seen two Pepper yet things make LESS sense like where did the child come from then??? Though the random electric shocks she got folding Peach's laundry on laundry day makes sense now!! And the Psychic stuff

Peach probably vaguely admits that yes her brothers are like her but doesn't say more as well not her place to tell and they're probably visiting later so friend can see for herself and honestly she's probably honestly really touched by the gesture that Peach is letting her into her world for a second time and is just like really appreciative, probably awkwardly jokes like "I should've gotten you a plant" and Peach just snorts because what is it with you and getting fucking plants for people's houses oh my god. But it's a good tension breaker and shows they're really still on the same page

It DEFO takes a long time for Peach to even remotely drop her disguise around friends. It took her almost 9 years before she dropped it around Daisy. So more than likely the friend would know more about Ash and Indigo before Peach was okay enough to drop her disguise!

BUT! She would let her know (Hey Im a Pokemon, and i just use transform) before switching over to mimicked Telepathy.

[eurynome827-fic-roulette]

Head Start

This is for my darling @buckyownsmylife and her 2k breeding kink challenge! Eyre, you're a gift. Thank you for your friendship.

My character is Steve Rogers and my AU prompt was Roommate.

Warnings: breeding kink, obviously, so smut (vague of course and this is really soft) - my blogs are 18+ spaces always. I do not give permission to translate or repost my work on other sites.

Steve Rogers was the best roommate.

Yes, even when he woke up at 5am every day to go for a run. Sure, sometimes the activity in the apartment would wake you up, but the coffee was always hot and ready for you when you woke up.

Steve was always doing little thoughtful things like that for you. Buying two kinds of milk so you always had your favorite in the fridge. Carrying your laundry bags down to the machine in the basement so you didn't have to. He had to have a sixth sense for it because he always knew when you needed a movie night, junk food and cuddles. Steve was better than all of your previous boyfriends combined...but he was only your roommate.

Unless...maybe he wasn't only your roommate.

"Steve?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?" He angled his head to catch your eye, as you looked up from where you were snuggled against his chest.

"Do you think it's weird that we always cuddle when we watch tv?"

Steve frowned, cute little lines digging into his forehead and you wanted to smooth them out with your finger. "No...why, do you not like it?"

"No, no, I do," you reassured him, "but when you get a girlfriend...or I get a boyfriend," the frown lines grew deeper, "they may not like it."

"Well, that's unacceptable. I'm always going to need cuddles from my best girl."

His best girl. How long had it been since Steve had brought someone home? He had that girlfriend when you'd moved in, and that hadn't lasted long. You'd been single since you moved in.

Why would you look for a man when you had Steve Rogers making you coffee in the morning and cuddling you on the couch in front of the TV at night?

Steve's watching some documentary about choosing the right preschools, and you're bored out of your mind. "Why are we watching this?"

Steve shrugs. "I thought it was interesting."

"It's only interesting if you have kids."

"I'm gonna have kids some day!"

"Yeah but you have to get out of here and find the woman to have the kids with first!"

Your voice was joking, but the deafening silence in the room choked off your air. You're almost too nervous to lift your head from his chest and look at his face, but you do and it's just as bad as you thought.

Steve is looking down at you like he got his hand stuck in the cookie jar. It's all over his face - he hasn't been having a hard time finding a girl, he's been deliberately not looking.

"Oh."

It's all you can think to say. It's a surprise but also there's a big part of you that's been unconsciously doing the same thing - not wanting to find someone to interrupt you playing house with Steve Rogers.

Steve Rogers, who is now staring at you like he's afraid you're going to get up and run away. But you don't.

You climb into his lap and kiss him, hard.

He's stunned for a moment until his hands find your waist, pulling you closer against him as you open up to him, letting him find what he's been seeking. You kiss until you're out of breath and then you pull away, your eyes opening slowly to find his staring back at you.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I was trying to figure out how..."

You try to shush him, kissing him again quickly. "It's okay, Steve."

"You're asking me why I'm not out trying to find a girl, and it's because I had the perfect one here with me at home."

Your heart melts down in your chest, reforged into a shape that belongs to Steve only. Grabbing his shoulders and pulling him closer, you kiss the breath from him and whisper, "take me to bed, Steve."

He almost chokes on air. "Are - are you sure?"

"Yes. Please. I want to be yours," you look into his eyes, "your best girl."

Steve stands up from the couch, carrying you to his room. "My best girl," he echos you, "mine."

"Yes," you answer breathlessly, and he lays you down carefully on his bed.

You've seen Steve without his shirt countless times, wandering around the apartment in just sweatpants. Sometimes, in just a towel fresh from the shower. He's seen you in your tiny bathrobe and your little sleep shorts, tank tops with no bra on underneath. Still, this is first time you've taken off everything and you're both moving slowly and admiring, and in Steve's case he's practically worshipping. Greeting all of your newly exposed skin with soft kisses and sweet praises and you've never felt so adored.

"Are you sure?" He asks you, hovering above you, poised to cross this boundary forever.

"Yes," you answer, feeling him hard at your entrance. "I'm yours."

You're home. You're with him, completely, soft words and kisses between you as he makes you his. You're watching how he's holding himself back, how the veins are popping out in his neck and along his arms as he holds his body up over yours. And then you remember - "you want to give me a baby, Steve?"

His eyes widen. "Sweetheart, what are you saying?"

"That's what you want, right?" You coo, running your hands over his arms and massaging his shoulders. "You want to see me all round with your baby - tell everyone that I'm yours and full of you, that we made something beautiful together."

"Oh honey," he closes his eyes a moment, his hips stuttering against yours, "yeah, yeah that's what I want."

"Then do it, Steve," your voice is low but steady, the pleading edge creeping in the closer you get to your own peak. "Take me, own me...breed me."

It's like something snaps - Steve lowers himself so he's only held up by his elbows, pressing to you more urgently everywhere. His mouth to yours, his skin to yours and especially the way he's finally let go so passionately for you, pushing inside you with purpose and making every inch of your body sing for him. You finish first, with a cry of his name, and he follows soon after with a shout, emptying himself inside you.

You're both wrapped around each other completely, reluctant to move. Steve presses his forehead to yours, holding you tightly in his arms. "I want to build our life together."

"Well, we've had a great head start."

[stellarspecter]

For the fanfic tropes: 11 & 56 for Reggie/Alex

neighbor au and awful first meeting... ooh, well this one almost writes itself!!

Alex hasn’t been living in his new apartment for very long, but he knows he doesn’t like his neighbors. Well, one neighbor in particular: Reggie.

He probably wouldn’t hate him so much if Reggie’s dog hadn’t straight up attacked him when he was trying to move in, but that thing is a beast sent straight from hell, Alex is sure of it. On that first day, it almost made him break his drums, which he definitely would not have been able to pay for, and the situation hasn’t improved.

It barks all the time, and since they apparently share a wall, Alex can hear it very clearly — though he can’t be too mad about that, considering the fact that his drums are also very loud and no doubt a disturbance to Reggie, despite the half-assed soundproofing he put up. Whenever he takes the dog out for a walk, it barks at his door, and he’s seen Reggie have to drag it away from scratching at it a few times.

It’s a shame, because if it weren't for the dog, Alex would probably really like Reggie. He really doesn’t know how such a nice (and pretty) guy can have such a terrible pet and still adore it, but it doesn’t seem to be a problem for Reggie.

One day, Alex runs into Reggie in the basement, where the building’s laundry machines are located. He walks in to find Reggie loading up the dryer, leaving the only washing machine available.

“Hey,” he says. Reggie’s head whips up, and an earbud falls out, which he hurriedly picks up.

“Oh, hey Alex! Do you need the washing machine?”

Alex nods, and Reggie moves aside to let him take it. “I don’t usually see you down here,” Alex remarks as he loads the machine. He’d assumed that Reggie did his laundry at other times of the week, or maybe went to a different laundromat or something.

Reggie winces. “Yeah, well, Chick threw up on my laundry, so I had to wash it. Again.”

“Your dog?” Alex guesses.

“Yeah,” Reggie confirms. “Right, you haven’t — yeah. His name’s Chick.”

“That’s an interesting name for a dog,” Alex observes. He’s just coasting the wave of small talk until he doesn’t have to be here anymore, honestly.

“It’s short for Chicken Tender Nugget,” Reggie tells him nonchalantly. Alex blinks.

“Sorry?”

“I couldn’t decide which one was better,” Reggie explains, like that’s an explanation, “So I went with both!”

The corner of Alex’s mouth crooks up. “That’s… certainly one way to go about it.”

Reggie laughs. “Sure is.” Alex presses the start button on the washing machine and straightens up, the silence turning awkward now that it’s time for him to make his exit. Alex puts his hands in his pockets.

“So, uh…”

“I’m sorry my dog almost made you break your drums,” Reggie blurts out. “And barks when you play them. And also, like, all the time.” He rubs the back of his neck. “He’s just… easily excited. And I guess you’re pretty exciting.”

Alex takes a moment to respond. “It’s… it’s okay. I mean, it’s a little annoying, I’ll be honest, but no harm, no foul, right?” Maybe he was wrong to hold a grudge this long when the dog didn’t even really do anything.

“Right,” Reggie says. “I can hear you through the wall sometimes, and you sound really good.” His eyes widen. “On the drums, I mean!”

Alex chuckles. “Thanks, man. I’m, uh, I’m actually in a band. Sunset Curve.”

“I’ll tell my friends,” Reggie quips, throwing him finger guns.

“You could come to our show on Friday,” Alex blurts out, his mouth rushing ahead of his brain. He blushes. “See me — see us in action.”

Reggie looks surprised at the offer, and a grin takes over his face. Suddenly, Alex is invested in seeing that smile way more often. “Sure, I’d love to!”

Alex gives him the details and goes back to his room without his laundry but with a new friend — and when Reggie opens the door to his apartment, his dog doesn’t even leap out and maul Alex! Progress on all fronts. Plus the promise of his cute neighbor coming to his show on Friday? Alex couldn’t be happier.

[themadlostgirl]

When It’s Cold (8)

*Felix has always been a fast learner. wink wink nudge nudge

Come indulge in the smut you nasties! Yes I know I wrote it so I am the originator of the nasty but we’re not gonna dwell on that. Smut ahead!*

~~~

Morning broke with soft light streaming in through the windows and the melodious songs of bluejays and chickadees chirping happily. The warm covers of the bed were pulled up to my chin and next to me was Felix still fast asleep. I took the moment to look at his face and how peaceful it was when he slept.

I’m glad I sucked up my courage and came to his door last night. My bed alone had been so lonesome. I didn’t want to come off as clingy but then he opened the door and invited me in to sleep with him. He wanted me next to him just as much as I did. I hope that this can become a regular thing. I rather like waking up with him.

I traced the scar across his face and his eyes fluttered open. He gave me a lazy smile before pulling me closer and pressing a kiss to my nose. “G’morning,” he mumbled sleepily.

“Morning,” I giggled at the affectionate gesture, “Sleep well?”

“Very well,” He yawned, “Makes me not want to get out of bed.”

“Well we can certainly do that. Not like we have any obligations.”

“Kinda hungry though. Wish I didn’t have to go all the way downstairs to have something to eat.”

A spark of heat curled inside me when his gaze flickered over my face. Memories from yesterday flashing in my head. Words he had said echoing back to me.

I knew you would taste good too.

Nope! It is too early for this!

Stop hiding, if you can’t take it when I lick you off my fingers how are you going to handle when I have my head between your legs drinking it up straight from the source?

I pressed my legs together in an ineffectual effort to stave off the ache that was starting to grow. I had overreacted a tad yesterday when Felix had said that to me. I would not say that the thought had not come to me when I was alone in my room fighting off the loneliness of my bed. To hear him say it though had thoroughly flustered me. How was I supposed to react to such a blunt statement?

Perhaps I should have said, “Yes, please, for the love of every deity do that right now! Let us spend all day in bed doing nothing but slating each other's urges until neither of us can breathe let alone walk.”

“Darling?” Felix said and I realized that he had been trying to capture my attention for a while, “Morning fog not lifted from your head yet?”

“Apparently not,” I laughed off my real thoughts, “What were you saying?”

“I’m gonna go make breakfast. Do you want anything?” He asked.

“Oh no. I’ll be fine with just some cereal.”

“Okay,” He pushed back the covers of the bed and got up. I watched from the bed as he stretched and made his way out of the room.

My body was still twisted tightly with needs. I tried to hide away from them under the covers but it was no help. The bed reeked of Felix’s scent. I groaned back in my throat. Fantasies of Felix taking me in this big bed flitting about in my head. Being completely consumed by his presence. His body, his heat, the noises he makes, the feel of his--

“AGH!” I screeched into the pillow. I either need to cool down or get that boy back in this bed. There’s no other option.

I went to his bathroom and splashed some cold water on my face before meeting Felix downstairs in the kitchen. He had already set out a bowl and spoon for me for my cereal. I smiled at the gesture and grabbed the cereal and milk. Felix sat across from me flipping through one of his cookbooks. No doubt thinking of more dinner ideas.

I couldn’t stop staring at him. My mind wandering away from me as more lecherous thoughts befell me. All he was doing was eating some toast. It was hardly interesting yet when his tongue flicked out of his mouth to catch some jelly at the corner of his mouth my toes curled.

My own tongue crept out of my mouth to wet my lips. Felix looked up and I almost fell back off my chair at having been caught gawking. Get a hold of yourself! I stabbed my spoon into my now soggy bowl of cereal. I finished about half of it before I decided it was a lost cause and dumped out the rest. I need to get some space between Felix and I before I combust.

“I’m gonna do some laundry.” I announced, “I’ve been neglecting it so I may be a while.”

“No trouble. I’ll be up here.” Felix said.

I nodded and grabbed the basket from the basement then went to our rooms to collect the dirty laundry. I was rushing to get to the privacy of the basement where the washer and dryer resided. I was hardly breathing easier now that I was alone. It felt like there was a coil tightening inside me just waiting to be sprung.

Don’t think about it. Just do the laundry.

I started chucking clothes into the washer not really paying much attention to what I was grabbing. I held up a pair of pajama pants and froze when I realized that these were the ones that got dirtied yesterday. The cum stain still on the thigh.

“Fuck!” I hissed before chucking them in the washer as well. I slammed the lid down.

I can’t function like this. I’m too wound up and turned on. I need to do something to relieve the ache and set my mind right. I checked to make sure the basement door was closed before sliding my pants and underwear off. I hopped on top of the washer.

My eyes slid closed as I touched all my favorite places. I let the memories of yesterday and the fantasies I wanted to guide me along. My body was especially sensitive and I was close to cumming in a matter of minutes. I covered my mouth with my other hand so my moans couldn’t be so easily heard.

“Don’t bother stifling yourself, darling.”

I literally screamed at the sudden voice. Felix was standing on the steps. I couldn’t see his expression but I knew one thing was clear. He had caught me masturbating. Considering what we did yesterday I feel like I shouldn’t be so concerned about him seeing me like this but it almost felt like an intrusion. This had been my private moment and he waltzed right into it. My cheeks burned and I pulled at my shirt trying in vain to cover my exposed lower half.

“I was just--” I stammered.

“You don’t need to justify yourself to me. It’s not like it’s a bad thing to take care of yourself when you need to.” Felix said. He started coming closer and I froze. “That being said, if you were so damn horny, little girl, why didn't you just come to me? I would have been more than happy to help alleviate you.”

I couldn’t find anything to say. Things I wanted to say and things I feared expressing whirling around my brain like a hurricane.

“Perhaps,” Felix said, his tone softer than before, “I misread the situation. You prefer to take care of this on your own and I should have quietly excused myself when I saw you. Apologies.”

He turned to leave. I jumped off the washer and grabbed his arm. “Wait!” My heart was hammering painfully hard in my chest. “I did want to come to you but I--but I--”

“Yes?” Felix asked, turning to study me.

“I was nervous to ask you. You haven’t seemed to show any urgent interest in being intimate with me again so I never asked. I want to do more but you...I didn’t want to pressure you into something you didn’t desire.”

“Didn’t desire?” Felix grabbed me and pulled me flush against him. Something hard poked against me and heat flooded my body once more. “It seems my words were not explicit enough yesterday so let me make this clear now. I desire you. I want you. Every damn second of the day I want you.”

A small whine pressed past my sealed lips. “I never let on about how much I want you because I said I would go at your pace. Whatever you wish of me, I will give you. Understand?”

“Oh…” I finally found my tongue, “That’s uh, that’s great.”

“Just great huh?” He brought the hand that I had pleasured myself with up to his face. Fingers still wet with arousal. He sucked the juices clean from my fingers one at a time. Hooded eyes watched me the entire time. “You have me at your disposal, darling. Is there anything that you wish for me to do for you?”

“The other day when you spoke of um,” I swallowed back the embarrassment. It’s just us here. There’s nothing to feel embarrassed over. “You said that thing about your head between my legs...did you still want to do that?”

His grin cracked his face in two. “I’d certainly like to try.”

I nodded for him to go ahead. He grabbed me and hoisted me back on top of the washing machine. He pressed close to me capturing my lips in a ravenous kiss. His hands were in direct contrast to his mouth. He kissed me with a hunger that bordered on desperate but his hands were gentle. Caressing my torso and holding face so carefully while he ravaged my mouth.

His mouth trailed hot and wet down my neck. He sucked hard on my pulse and hands pressed my hips towards him. His clothed erection rubbed against my naked slit and I moaned into the air. “Felix…”

“Believe me now?” Felix asked, his words hot in my ear. “Believe that I always want you.” He thrusted hard against me and I swore. More. I needed more.

“Yes,” I whimpered, “Please, Felix, please it feels so good.”

“What do you want?” He thrust again and I scratched my fingernails along his back. He groaned into my neck. “Tell me what you want, little girl.”

“You. I want you.”

“Want me to do what?” His gaze met mine with that dumb teasing smile of his. I cannot believe that he has the gall to tease me like this right now. He laughed at my soured expression and caressed my legs up and down. “If you don’t tell me what you want then how am I to know?”

“I told you what I want already.” My legs started tingling and every time his hands hiked higher on my thighs the wetness between them grew.

“Not explicitly and I want to make sure that I give my girl exactly what she wants.”

“Your girl,” I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, “Wants you to stop teasing her so.”

“I’m not teasing,” he ran his hands under my shirt to fondle my breasts. “I’m simply waiting for a reply.”

“Felix!”

“I love the way my name sounds coming from your lips, darling, but that’s still not an answer.” He hiked my shirt up and pulled it off. His head dipped down to kiss at my breasts. He bit and sucked on the supple skin leaving tiny bruises in his wake. “I don’t want to tease you but if I do not receive an answer I’m afraid that’s all I’ll be able to do.”

“Have I ever mentioned how much of a jerk you can be when you want to?” I snapped, trying to keep some composure. His hips still kept a gentle grind against me so I couldn’t think straight.

“Maybe once or twice.” One of his hands trailed down my stomach and rubbed softly on my clit. I yelped at the sudden sensation. “Just tell me what you want. It can’t be that hard, can it?”

There was no other way to get what I wanted without asking for it. And here I thought that he wouldn’t be so damn cocky about it. My pleasure was steadily building but it was a light simmer that kept me wanting without making promises of giving me release.

“Felix,” I whispered, “I want you to put your mouth on me. I want you to devour my cunt and make me cum.”

“As you wish,” He kissed me hotly one more time before slowly dropping down to a knee in front of me. He peppered kisses along my inner thighs, occasionally stopping to suck and bite at them until he was facing my cunt directly. I looked straight ahead so I wasn’t witnessing him stare at my dripping core with those glazed eyes. I could feel his breath puff against me and I whined wishing he would just touch me already and rid my body of the anxious anticipation.

"Darling,” Felix's voice shook me and I made a noncommittal noise of response. “You should know that while I have envisioned this numerous times before I have no idea what I am doing.”

“Huh?” I looked down at him between my legs and saw him watching me with the same intensity he had when I was guiding him along my body for the first time yesterday.

His face was bright red, even his ears burned. It made me feel better knowing he was just as nervous, if not more nervous than me about this. Excited but still cautious. “Sooooo, I'm just gonna go with god and hopefully this is enjoyable."

“I have no doubt you’ll make me feel amazing,” I wove my fingers through one of the hands on my thigh. “And if for some reason you don’t then that just means you can keep practicing.”

“I adore you.” He squeezed my hand back. Our hands stayed interlocked as he drew his attention downward once more. “And you’re all mine.”

I barely made out what he said before he dove in to devour me as promised. I squeaked and almost squirmed away but Felix kept me tethered, squeezing my hand in reassurance. The flat of his tongue licking a stripe up my cunt. He moaned against me and the vibrations sent a new flood of arousal pooling out of me that Felix happily lapped up.

God this was such a strange sensation but it felt so good. My free hand wove into his hair and he groaned again. I was going to get addicted to this I know it.

Stars danced before my eyes as he drew his attention to my clit. The tip of his tongue tracing patterns around it that had me blubbering praises and made me grip his hair tighter. “Fuck, Felix! Feels so good! Feels so fucking good!”

“That’s it baby,” he muttered as he pulled away to breathe, “You taste divine. I could die happy with my head between your legs.”

“Not before you make me cum like you promised.” I said. His eyes met mine, that rakish grin of his glistened with my arousal on his lips.

“Of course, darling,” He kept his eyes locked with mine as he attached his mouth back to my cunt. I couldn’t look away now. Not when his eyes bore into me like they did. The fact that he was watching me as he ate me out had me spiraling farther from sanity.

His free hand joined his mouth, running his fingers up and down my slit like a tease while he sucked hard on my clit. My legs were shaking and I didn’t know if I was trying to push myself closer and farther away. A single fingered entered me and I gripped his hair harder, pushing him ever closer as that single long finger pumped inside me at a pace that was incredibly slow compared to the quick swipes he assaulted my clit with.

A second finger joined the first, scissoring and curling inside my cunt to stretch it open. “Yes, oh god, yes!” My hips started to grind down against his face, chasing the orgasm I was building towards faster. “Faster! Please Felix go faster!”

He grunted and started pumping his fingers faster. He gave a playful experimental nibble to my clit and I yelped. He started to pull away before I forced his head to keep put. “Do that again! Please do that again!” I begged.

He set back to his task switching from nibbling to sucking to tracing patterns across my clit as his fingers continued to fuck my pussy. I was losing any coherency, my words a blubbering whimpering mess of praises, pleas and Felix’s name. All the while Felix kept his eyes trained on me. The only thing keeping me tethered to reality being his grip on my hand.

“Felix,” I moaned, “Felix, I’m gonna--fuck--fuck I’m gonna cum!”

With that he sucked even harder on my poor abused clit. My orgasm hit me like a ton of bricks. Felix’s name the only thing I could say as the shockwaves of the experience continued to roll through me. Felix wasn’t letting up any either. He kept fingering me and licking my sensitive cunt until I was driven into another orgasm. Not as powerful as the first but nonetheless electrifying.

My grip on Felix eased as any energy I had slowly seeped out my body. Felix finally pulled away with a self satisfied smile. He licked what was left of my arousal off his fingers before looking me over. I can only imagine the image I presented. Naked, flushed, legs weak, and my arousal still leaking onto the top of the washing machine.

“Still with me, darling?” Felix asked, gently caressing my face.

“Yeah…” I whispered. Even my voice was hoarse. “Thank you, that felt amazing.”

“Glad to hear it.” He kissed me. I moaned slightly at the taste of me on his tongue. “I hope now you understand that you don’t need to suffer in silence if you get like this again. Whenever you will have me, darling, you can.”

“Care to help a girl back upstairs?” I asked, sheepishly. “My legs feel about as weak as pudding right now.”

“Come here,” He grabbed my shirt from the floor and slid it back on me. I was able to keep my wits together enough to slide on my own panties and sweatpants again. My legs were plenty wobbly once I jumped off the washing machine. Felix kept an arm around me as he walked me back upstairs to my room.

He turned to go and I grabbed his arm to halt him. “Need something?” He asked.

“Can we sleep in the same bed again tonight?” I asked. “I just really like falling asleep with you and waking up next to you so…”

“Of course, darling,” He smiled softly, “You’re always more than welcome in my bed. To sleep or to play.”

“And I hope you know that the offer you made me about being there to sate my needs also applies to you.” I told him, “Don’t think I didn’t notice that you were left wanting after our fun downstairs.”

“Rest assured,” he inched his face closer so we were a breath away, “I’ll be sure to let you know when I want your attention, little girl.”

“Not now?”

“So eager to please me?”

“And if I am?”

“Then I am more fortunate than I thought.” He placed a kiss to my cheek before turning me around and pushing me towards the bathroom. “Clean yourself up and come downstairs. It’s my turn to choose the movie today.”

I nodded and scurried into the bathroom. My heart full and my body still abuzz with pleasure. I could get used to this sort of treatment every day.

---

(Previous) (Next)

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH22

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

-----

Chapter 22: Star Death Reality Show (V)

What was happening? Feeling as though he was blindfolded, Qi Leren and He Yi looked at each other nervously.

"Mark? Are you all right?" He Yi also asked loudly.

There was still no sound in the room.

"Let's go in and have a look," He Yi said nervously.

Qi Leren's heart beat faster. According to the routine in horror games, the loud noise just now was likely an indication of danger, suggesting that Mark had met some big trouble inside.

Had he met the monster? Qi Leren became suspicious. From the task background’s information, he clearly knew that the monster in the "glowing stone" had hatched by this time, although he wasn’t sure whether this monster was a simple and rude physical attack type or a parasitic type like an alien. If it was the former, it would very likely eat people, and its target...

Qi Leren pulled out the knife assigned by the program company and said to He Yi: "Okay."

He Yi looked at the knife in his hand in surprise: "...Do you need a knife?"

Qi Leren was dazed and realized that he had overreacted a little. To an NPC, this copy task was just an ordinary reality show. They didn't know what they were going to face and they were unprepared for it.

"Be prepared." With a straight face and posing as an experienced leader, Qi Leren boldly pushed open the door, as there was no warning from [Rain-Day Laundry] in his card slot.

Mark had fallen not far from the door. There was no blood on the ground. Instead, there was a fallen bookshelf, from which a large stack of objects such as vases and books had fallen to the ground, along with the axe. Obviously, when the black man had come in he had stumbled and knocked over the bookshelf. He was probably hit on the head by something, shed a little blood, and suddenly fainted.

Qi Leren breathed through the corners of his mouth, put the knife back into the sheath as if nothing had happened, and leaned over and lifted the man up: "Come and give a hand."

He Yi also came to help, and the two men lifted the upper body and the lower body, and reluctantly put the big black uncle on the bed.

"Now what? They’re still waiting for us, " He Yi said.

Regardless of the obvious inhumanity of leaving someone unconscious aside, Qi Leren thought for a moment: "Well, you look after Mark here, I will take the axe over, and then I’ll call Dr. Lu... Er, I mean Lu Cangshu."

He Yi smiled: "I know, I heard that his dream is to be a doctor, so his nickname is Dr. Lu."　

It seems that this copy world has also automatically filled in some settings, Qi Leren thought.

The two reached an agreement and Qi Leren took the axe and walked out of Annie's house, walking towards Jing Siyu’s house. Walking halfway, Qi Leren suddenly remembered what He Yi seemed to be about to say to him before Mark's accident. He had said that he’d seen something in the middle of the night...

Qi Leren looked back at the church in the middle of the village. Could it be related to the glowing stone inside?

　　&&&

When he returned to the house Jing Siyu was staying in, the group of people were waiting anxiously for him in this narrow room. Xue Jiahui saw Qi Leren coming back alone and couldn't help but ask: "Where’s He Yi?"

"He Yi didn't come back with you?" Lara also asked.

Poor Mark was forgotten by the girls because he wasn’t handsome. Qi Leren felt deeply in his heart that this was really a world where looks were most important.

"Mark fell and fainted. He Yi is looking after him. I decided to bring the axe first." Qi Leren handed the axe to his teammate Du Yue, giving him a chance to show his skills.

Du Yue took the axe, smiled at Qi Leren, and began to split the wooden trap door. The dust on the carpet flew up, and several of the women ran out covering their noses, unable to stand the dust. Annie was the worst. She coughed wildly and rushed out without looking back. He could still hear her heavy coughing from afar.

"She’s not allergic to dust, is she?" Out of occupational sensitivity, Dr. Lu felt that her cough didn’t seem to be choking, but rather an allergic reaction. "We don't have antihistamine drugs here."

"It won’t be a serious allergy. We’ve all received physical examinations to detect allergens, and at most it is mild allergies," Francis said calmly.

"It'd better be..." Dr. Lu muttered.

"Let's go and see Mark later," Qi Leren said to Dr. Lu.

"Oh, okay," Dr. Lu readily agreed.

Du Yue, an honest boy, worked hard and diligently. He chopped the trap door to the basement a few times, revealing the dark environment below, which gave off a sense of dread.

The ladies were outside, Mark and He Yi were not there, and there were only Francis, Alex, and Qi Leren in the room, a total of five people.

Dr. Lu, who knew the routine well, had no choice but to help: "Well, it seems that we have to go down and look. Who will go down first?"

"I'll do it." Francis stood up.

Alex was one step late and curled his lips. "I'm the second."

After a little reflection, Qi Leren turned to Dr. Lu and said, "It's enough for the three of us to go in and have a look. You and Du Yue wait outside, then go to see Mark when we’re sure that Jing Siyu is okay."

"Alright."

Francis illuminated the basement with a flashlight. The entrance was very humble, with the ladder that led down only made of wood. Immediately after Francis went down, he found Jing Siyu passed out at the bottom of the ladder, and the three people joined forces to get her up.

The group of women also came back from the outside covering their noses and gathered around Jing Siyu to check the situation. Only Qi Leren and Francis were still in the basement, shining flashlights to check the situation there.

"I thought it should be a basement where sundries were placed, but it turned out to be like a laboratory," Qi Leren said curiously.

The same was true of Francis. The two were puzzled by the white-painted basement: "Maybe the owner was a researcher?"

This basement wasn’t big, only 20-30 square meters. The ground was made of cement, the walls were painted white, and all the walls were covered with bookshelves and lockers, with a pile of books and unrecognizable organ specimens. Qi Leren tried to read them, but the words above were all unfamiliar characters—obviously this was the language of this civilization, and the "alien" Qi Leren couldn't understand it.

There were also a lot of materials on the desk, which Qi Leren turned over thickly and couldn't understand. He opened the drawer and checked it, but there were no items like keys.

"Does the program know that there’s a basement in this house?" Qi Leren asked.

"I'm afraid I don't know. They said that it took only three days to sweep the village and arrange the fixed cameras. They couldn’t have been too careful," Francis said calmly.

"Right." Qi Leren looked thoughtfully at the family photos on the desk. The intelligent creatures on this planet looked very similar to them, with two eyes, one nose, one mouth, and no superhuman powers, so one could hardly tell the difference between them and this group of contestants.

"Hey, Francis and Qi, aren't you coming up yet?" Lara shouted from the entrance of the basement.

"Coming!" The two people who didn't find anything in particular gave up, grabbed the flashlights, and climbed out of the basement.

Just as everyone climbed out of the basement, there was a dull boom in the distance, like the sound of an avalanche. Several people were shocked and ran out to check. The women outside the door looked in the direction of the church in doubt: "Did something explode in that direction?"

"Did the church collapse from not being maintained for so many years?" Lara asked.

"I don't know, it was somewhere to the north either way," Xue Jiahui said. "Let’s go see He Yi and Mark later and ask them which direction the sound came from."

Jing Siyu was still unconscious, so they didn't trust to leave her alone in the house. Instead they moved her to Jing Sixue's house and asked her sister to look after her, while the rest went to visit Mark.

Qi Leren winked at Dr. Lu. Dr. Lu ran to Qi Leren and whispered, "Did you find anything?"

"I feel like there’s something wrong with the basement in Jing Siyu’s house. Go back and call Du Yue to have a look. You search carefully to see if there’s anything," Qi Leren said.

"Leave it to me!" Dr. Lu the treasure hunter said confidently.

The rest of the people walked towards Annie's house, and when they passed the church they made a special check and found that there was no place that had collapsed or looked damaged.

Further north was Annie's house. The group of people walked through snow and squeezed into the house. Qi Leren knew where to go, leading everyone to the room where Mark was lying. The door was open, but there was no sound.

Qi Leren suddenly slowed down: "He Yi? Mark?"

No one answered him. There was no one in that room.

"What's the matter? Weren’t those two here just now?" Janet asked exaggeratedly.

"Yes, Mark was knocked out by the shelf by the door, so He Yi and I carried him to the bed in this room. He Yi was looking after him. I brought the axe first... Did Mark wake up? Maybe they went out to find us but went the wrong way?" Qi Leren guessed.

"Impossible, they’re still in this room," Lara suddenly said.

Everyone was shocked by Lara's words and looked at her.

This female star with short hair and a heroic spirit had sharp eyes, and her eyes swept across everyone's faces: "It snowed in the middle of the night yesterday, and a new layer of snow was deposited on the ground. I have a habit of looking at the footprints in the snow. I paid attention to them when I came here just now. Before this group of ours came, there were five sets of footprints in front of Annie's house—those left by Annie when she left in the morning, those left by Qi Leren, He Yi, and Mark when they came to take the axe, and those left by Qi Leren when he left. Only these five sets, no more footprints, do you understand what I mean? Mark and He Yi didn’t leave the house. They’re still here."

-----

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

[yinyanchan]

Housemates x Zoot Suit Riot Crossover: Lucky and Strike part 1

Wanted to post this for my birthday. You guys get to see it here first before the parts are combined and put on AO3. I will update when that happens as I’d like to do POV’s I’ve written for housemates and Zoot Suit Riot as well. The rating on it will be M as we do have a lot a pervs to cover and well Lucky being Lucky.

Summary: In which Blue and Orange from Housemates end up getting sucked through the still active machine in the basement of the house and swaps them with Lucky (Underswap Mafia Sans) and Strike (Underswap Mafia Papyrus) from my fic. Zoot Suit Riot. If you haven’t read Zoot Suit Riot… you are in for a treat with Lucky. Rating is what is and you will find out soon enough.

Check it out under the cut!

Blue was cleaning up near the dryer as Orange was helping him fold clothes in the basement. Both of them zoned out at what they were doing… until…

“You hear that bro?” Orange looks around. He faintly hears a soft whirring sound but both the dryer and washing machine were off.

Blue pauses and looks around.

“I HEAR IT BUT WHAT DO YOU SUPPOSE IT IS? I MEAN I FEEL LIKE I’VE HEARD IT BEFORE BUT I CAN’T HONESTLY PLACE IT.” He hums as he continues to investigate with his brother.

“Oh crap. It’s getting louder behind the locked door.” Oranges’ sockets widen as do Blues.

“YOU DON’T THINK THE MACHINE STARTED UP ON IT’S OWN DO YOU!?” Blue looks highly concerned over at his brother.

“It doesn’t seem possible. Go get Sans… I’ll take it from here.” Orange says undoing the lock on the door only to have his hand gripped by his brother.

“I DON’T WANT YOU GOING IN ALONE. MAYBE THIS IS SOMETHING LIKE AN UPDATE BUT I DON’T WANT YOU TO GO IN AND IT POSSIBLY TAKES YOU FROM ME.” Blue is serious and Orange relents… he knows if he doesn’t comply he won’t even get the chance to investigate. Blue will ground his sorry behind that’s for sure.

“Ok bro. On the count of 3 we go in together.” Blue nods, getting that serious big brother mode game face on.

“1...2...3” They open the door and are instantly bathed in light and are instantly sucked into the room. Then moments later two skeletons who look eerily similar are thrown into the room.

They both groan slowly getting up from their awkward positions on the floor. They both look at each other only to do a double take.

“Brother, I know you are lazy but honestly?” The Blue look alike scowls at the orange hoodie clad skeleton next to him. The skeleton in question looks himself over and then scoffs.

“At least you can tell what I’m wearin’ unlike you bro… what even is that?” His brow raised in question.

The Blue imposter looked down at the battle body that Blue so lovingly wore in absolute disgust.

“THE FUCKING HELL IS THIS!? WHERE IS MY GODDAMN SUIT!?” He raves then touches head for his hat… and instantly blue tears are welling up in his sockets.

“Strike… my hat is gone… my classy yet uniquely me bowler hat has gone missing… I CAN’T BE CLASSY, yet highly adorable, AND GET PUSSY IN THIS!!!” The blue skeleton has tears cascading down as he looks around for something far more wearable… he only can find more of what his brother Strike is wearing and aprons.

“Lucky, Look, it's a bit more serious than our clothes right now. Forget our soulmate was in the world we left behind?” Strike asks his brother who looks ready to combust.

“THAT IS THE PUSSY I WAS TALKING ABOUT!!! IF WE ARE HERE THEN WHERE IS SHE!? SHE BETTER NOT BE STUCK WITH THOSE ASSHOLES WITHOUT US BIDDING FOR HER AFFECTION!” Lucky looked positively pissed.

“Well she’s not here obviously.” Strike meanders to the machine listening to its soft dronning hum.

“FIX THIS NOW!!!” Lucky demands but Strike laughs.

“Unfortunately this is out of my league. My machine doesn’t even have one of these usb ports. I had to print orders on a card file for the machine to read it… one mistakenly placed card would throw everything out of order.” Strike sighs.

“Hmmm perhaps this may be a similar situation we were in… multiple versions of ourselves convening in one alternate universe. I say we go out there and pretend to be whoever these skeletons are and single out the one who is responsible for this mishap.” Lucky says lifting up the battle body attire with a repulsed look.

“Great plan bro but how are you sure that they will think we’re them.” Strike questions.

Lucky pulls out the photo in the chest plate of Blue and Orange posing for the picture.

“I think we can handle it.” Lucky smirks, his blue eyes sharpened to blue icy stars.

Strike chuckles as the pose gives everything away. They were just plain ordinary versions of themselves in a different universe… How hard could it be?

They go up the stairs and find themselves face to face with someone so strikingly familiar their soul about leapt out of their chest.

“Y/N?” Lucky asks almost in a whisper but loud enough for you to turn around and smile. Lucky is in a daze and he feels the familiar pull of his soul's longing.... Could it be that there was another soulmate version of you in this world.

“What’s up Blue? Done with the laundry already? From the way you were lecturing Orange about his growing pile of filth… I thought you’d be down there a lot longer.” You chuckle as you come up to pat his shoulder.

The silence was obviously starting to worry you.

“You ok…..” You start but are instantly cut off by Strike chuckling.

“It’s okay honeybun, he’s a little speechless after he found a snack in the pockets of one of these (Slightly lifts the hoodie for emphasis) and it’s well traumatized him a bit. He’ll be back to good ol’ Blue in a moment.” Strike knew he slipped up by the way you look at him puzzled when he called you honeybun but fortunately his deductions about himself in this world were correct. You snort making both Lucky and Strike ease up from the tense situation they were in.

You give Lucky a hug which he’s shocked but instantly hugs you back.

“I’m so sorry Blue. At least it’s not like when Red went on a full cursing rampage… You and Berry both were mortified for days.” From Lucky’s position he was able to make eye contact with his brother.

It was an unspoken acknowledgement of the information they had just gathered. So there was a Red and a Berry… then you leaned back to look at Lucky once more.

“I’m sure you’ll be my cheery, bubbly Blueberry in no time.” Lucky almost cringed and Strike couldn’t hold back his laughter. Leaving you confused and Lucky glaring daggers at him while your focus was off.

Lucky only used that persona as a ruse… He hated being cute but he would do it in a heartbeat if it meant he could get something he could use. Everyone usually thought Strike was in charge and were left confused when Lucky showed up and made sure everyone knew their place. Strike knows that persona works like magic… no matter how much Lucky hates it.

“MWEH HEH! YOU HAVE ME THERE Y/N” Lucky throws himself into the act. You give him a concerned look again but shake it off with a grin. Lucky saw it and knew that Blue must’ve given you a term of endearment that he must call you by constantly… He wished he knew what it was…

Luckily he and Strike were always a team and Strike has his back.

“Sorry honeybun but it looks like he’s still a little out of it.” Strike snickers and Lucky puts on a playful pout that instantly has you looking relieved.

“Well this homework isn’t going to do itself… If only…” You sigh and grab a backpack off the floor and start heading upstairs after waving to them.

“Strike, She’s not used to you calling her honeybun. She seemed okay with honey before the bun. Just call her honey but there must be something this Blue was calling her… I can’t think of anything at the moment of what it could be…” Lucky has his game face on again as they both stand around thinking about their gameplan.

Well… if they couldn’t get back to where they were… There was a soulmate for them here and they both smirked at one another.

“There ya are pipsqueak.” Both Luck and Strike turn to see someone who was definitely a shorter version of Sweets… Had the most atrocious shorts with a parka… but red and black per the normal color pattern. Also the gold fang that stuck out like a sore thumb… So that could mean that their version of Swisher was here too if his brother was.

Lucky actually looked behind him in confusion and worry like there was someone else that he hadn’t seen. Strike noticed the skeleton rolls his eyelights.

“You, You dumbass.” As Lucky turns to glare and Strike straightens himself a little… ready for a fight.

Then all of a sudden the other skeleton starts laughing.

“What? am I in trouble? I shouldn’t be cursing is that it? I hope I don’t invoke big brother mode.” The skeleton continues to guffaw only when he notices that the two skeletons aren’t really reacting the way he was wanting… in fact they seemed deathly serious.

“Hey come on… didn’t mean it. Ya not seriously gonna go inta big brother mode because of that?” The skeleton that resembled Sweets starts to look them over concerned.

“What the actual fuck are you going on about?” Lucky is seething. Strike coughs to let his brother know he’s slipped character because of his anger once again.

Too late the damage has been done. 

The skeleton starts to eyeball them both a little more and starts to sweat.

“Who the…” He pauses in his question then in a blink disappears while yelling “Sans!”

“Well isn’t this a total shit fuck of a mess I put us in?” Lucky groans.

“Told ya ta watch yer anger bro… now all I can say is we gotta sell who we’re impersonating.” Strike sighs as both walk around and try to get familiar with things as quickly as possible.

Both of them find themselves wandering into the living room to be cornered by someone who looked like Black from their world. Only they almost had their jaws drop at his outfit. Bandanna with ragged looking black and red clothes that showed off his spine like a midriff. 

“YOU TWO KNOW WHY RED IS SHOUTING LIKE THAT? IT’S NOT LIKE HIM TO BE THAT OBNOXIOUSLY LOUD.” The new skeleton loudly hisses out.

Strike had to nudge Lucky as he saw his brother's eye sockets narrow in what was sure to be a retort. Shocking his brother to let out a “MWEH” as he suddenly remembers.

Strike was good on hunches and was definitely a walking talking lie detector… even though that doesn’t stop Lucky from lying all the time.

“Come on, Berry, don't be like that. Poor bro is traumatized enough as it is going through my laundry.” His hunch was right as he watched ‘Berry’ shudder in absolute disgust.

“INDEED. I’VE SEEN THE WAY YOU AND RUSS LAZE ABOUT… THAT ROOM OF YOURS MUST BE EQUALLY ATROCIOUS TO HIS.” Berry shakes his head.

“Where is everyone?” Strike grins as he knows this will get them names at least.

“FORGET ALREADY? SANS IS AT THE UNIVERSITY ALONG WITH PAPYRUS AND RUSS. YOU KNOW? DOING THEIR JOBS. EDGE IS AT HIS JOB AS WELL. AXE AND NOOK ARE IN THE GARDEN AND RED OF COURSE IS BEING AN IDIOT. DEAREST IS ATTENDING HER HOMEWORK.” Both skeletons flinch at the smile on Berry’s face when he mentions well… you… who else would it be that a skeleton like this would be so fond of?

Yet Strike and Lucky are grateful to the access of information that was just handed to them on a silver platter.

Lucky has been in thought while listening to the drivel of his newest rival. What would he call someone absolutely dear to him? Obviously it would be something similar to this Blue… would it be Starshine? He likes stars and the way they shimmer and shine… but even Strike seemed to be a little off with honeybun.

“YES! DOING HER BEST! S-ORANGE? AFTER ALL OF THAT YOU’RE SURE YOU DON’T HAVE ANYTHING ELSE THAT NEEDS TO GO IN THE WASH?” Lucky almost slipped but pulled through.

“I’m sure bro.” Strike says with a grin knowing where this would go.

“I DON’T BELIEVE YOU. LET US TAKE ANOTHER LOOK SHALL WE?” Lucky and Strike begin to make their way upstairs leaving Berry… without realizing that Berry is looking at the stairs they chose weren’t the stairs they often took to go to their rooms.

Shrugging it off. Blue might’ve wanted to pop in to see how you were doing.

As Lucky and Strike crest the landing both look at each other seriously. You were in one of these rooms so they couldn’t go barging in but all skeletons were accounted for either not being here, inside, or upstairs… save for Red.

He was another problem. If he knew where Sans was he probably took a shortcut there but possibly could be in one of the rooms himself.

Strike shrugged and Lucky sighed walking over to the first door and knocked.

“Yes?” You called out and Lucky swooned.

“JUST CHECKING IF YOU NEEDED ANY HELP!” He calls out and you laugh.

“I might need some help with math later okay?” You tell him through the door.

“THEN I SHALL BE BACK TO HELP YOU.” Lucky preens but Strike pulls him away before he can say anything else.

“Bro, you forget that math is a subject you don’t excel at unless it’s you figuring out how to do something successfully in your own head?” Strike urges his brother to stop while they are ahead. Lucky was only good at numbers from his perspective and not from a textbook.

“Of course and by successful, it is! And Doing…?” His grin is lecherous as he looks back at your door.

“I will be.” He licks his teeth and Strike sighs. 

“Bro, I feel the pull too but we need our head in the game, so we can win it before they find out we aren’t who they thought we are.” Strike pulls him to the next door and knocks.

No answer. Looking around they slowly open it to not make a sound. They see a room in squalor and Lucky nearly gags. Lucky might be a little lazy in the mornings but he likes things nice and tidy.

This must be Red's room from the shorts they see lying about and the red and black color scheme… the only thing that really just has them floored are the pin ups… Naked pin ups…

Lucky looks around and sees a magazine. As he picks up the magazine the centerfold unfolds to a nude woman in a very sensual position.

“L-Lucky put that down!” Strike is flushed with embarrassment as his brother looks awestruck.

“I feel jipped. Where was this stuff in our timeline!? The only things naughty I had were stuffy pin ups with people in their unmentionables but only some skin was shown… This. Shows. Everything.” Lucky wipes a little drool away instantly pinning your face onto what he’s seeing.

“Guys!? Are you in Red’s room!?” They both freeze and Lucky instantly chucks the evidence away from him by instinct.

Only for them to sigh in relief that you were calling out from the otherside of the wall. Yet strike sees Lucky quickly stuff something in his pocket.

“YES WE WERE DROPPING OFF A TURTLENECK SWEATER WE FOUND IN THE DRYER!” Lucky quickly lies at the drop of a hat. Something that was both a blessing and a curse for poor Strike.

“Ok, but you know he doesn’t like anyone being in there when he’s not!” You call out again. You were still pretty muffled due to the wall… which had them looking at one another in curiosity if you had heard anything they said.

Seeing as you didn’t seem weirded out or come over in a huff they speculated that it wasn’t something to be upset about. So they quickly left and shut the door loud enough behind them for you to know they had left.

They went over and gently knocked on the next door so that you couldn’t hear but any occupant would. No answer so they silently slipped in. It was a very nice simple room. Had some books arranged neatly on a few shelves and at least they could see the computer on the desk without piles of dirty dishes and… well they didn’t want to think about what all those kleenex wipes were doing there.

There was a picture on the desk and this one showed Red and a Tall skeleton resembling Swisher from where they were whisked away from. Strike narrowed down the names listed and since it seemed to go in pairs the way it was given. Russ was obviously Berry’s brother. Sans and Papyrus of course the originals… That left Axe, Nook, and Edge. Since Axe and Nook were working together they might be brothers so that left Edge.

“Edge right?” Lucky smirks as he also narrowed it down. Well this wasn’t either of their rooms so they went down another door. Gently knock only to be spooked by a loud voice.

“OH! IS SOMEONE THERE? I WILL JUST BE A MINUTE.” They listen closely, leaning towards the door. They heard water stop running and then the door was thrown open startling them to both jump back. Panic stricken as they see a lumbering disfigured Papyrus lean down quizzically eyeing them.

“Figures there’d be one of him too.” Lucky gripes under his breath and gets elbowed by Strike.

“I AM TERRIBLY SORRY FRIENDS… WERE YOU NOT WANTING TO USE THE RESTROOM? OR WERE YOU LOOKING FOR SOMEONE?” They were at a pause… this was either Axe or Nook and since they had nothing to go by, playing it off was going to be a difficult feat.

“SCAVENGER HUNT.” Lucky blurted out and Strike looked at him like he’s lost his mind.

“WE DIDN’T WANT TO INTRUDE ON ANYONE MWEH HEH HEH.” Lucky gets that big sweet adorable grin as he rubs the back of his skull.

“OOOH A SCAVENGER HUNT!? WHO ARE WE SCAVENGING!?” The tall lanky skeleton of nightmares looks positively joyous and ready to join.

“Ummm who?” Strike looks between the skeletons nervously.

“MEHH NO! NOT WHO BUT A WHAT!” Even Lucky seems at a loss as his shoulders droop.

“YOU HAVE ME PUZZLED BLUE… TO SCAVENGE IS A HUNT FOR FOOD.” Both Lucky and Strike look floored.

“Then why did you say who?” Strike chuckles nervously.

“OBVIOUSLY BECAUSE I MADE A FUNNY. AXE AND PEACHES WOULD HAVE LAUGHED.” The one that is now known to be Nook poses dramatically and somehow his tattered cape like scarf blowing in wind that was not there.

Now the question was… who the hell was Peaches?

“MWEH! OF COURSE I GET IT NOW! VERY FUNNY NOOK!” Nook looks at Lucky weirdly but smiles.

“GOOD TO KNOW THAT MY DARK CANNIBAL JOKES AREN’T *Snicker* DRY.” He pauses and both skeletons seem to have no choice but to laugh while they are screaming internally.

“YES, WELL, NOOK PERHAPS YOU CAN HELP US?” Lucky quickly rebounds to change the subject. Lucky may have seen guts and glory in his line of work but the actual thought of eating someone was not something that sat with him lightly.

Nor for Strike who only sweats as Nook continues to chuckle and say “BONE DRY” under his breath.

“YOU SEE, ABSOLUTELY THE DARNDEST THING. WE ARE MISSING A SOCK. WE’VE BEEN HUNTING FOR IT BECAUSE ORANGE DOESN’T KNOW WHERE HE COULD HAVE LEFT IT… BEST TO RETRIEVE IT BEFORE SOMEONE ELSE STUMBLES UPON IT… LIKE Y/N.” He does the best bubbly impression he has but that doesn’t stop the tall skeleton looking down at him, with a knowing that something isn’t right.

“STARLIGHT.” Nook says bluntly at Lucky who falters.

“I BEG YOUR PARDON?” Lucky tries to keep his cool but even Strike knows when his brother is getting close to the ‘Fuck it’ stage and guns start blazing. Lucky was never really patient unless there was a type of goal that he really wanted to strive for.

“BLUE ARE YOU OKAY? YOU HARDLY EVER CALL PEACHES BY HER NAME ANYMORE. IT’S BEEN AGES SINCE I HEARD YOU SAY IT OTHER THAN STARLIGHT… YOU ALSO LAUGHED AT AXE’S TERRIBLE JOKES. ONLY I AND PEACHES… SOMETIMES EDGE AND RED FIND THEM AMUSING. EVEN RUSS AND YOU ORANGE ABHOR WHAT WE HAD DONE IN OUR TIMELINE AND CRINGE WHEN WE SAY THEM. SANS WON’T EVEN LET AXE TRY THEM IN HIS PRESENCE… PAPYRUS ACCEPTS US FOR WHO WE ARE BUT EVEN HE DOESN’T LIKE THAT KIND OF HUMOR. BERRY STRAIGHT UP FORBIDS US…. THAT IS UNLESS OF COURSE IT'S OVER SOMEONE WHO WAS MEAN TO PEACHES THEN HE FINDS IT HYSTERICAL AND ENCOURAGES IT… CAN NEVER REALLY TELL WITH HIM…” Nook goes off on a tangent… seems to be because he often does. Both skeletons just worriedly shoot glances at one another until he seems done.

“CONSIDER IT US BRANCHING OUT IN UNDERSTANDING FRIEND! MWEH HEH! NOW WE MUST FIND THAT SOCK!” Lucky puffs out his chest.

“OH YES! IT WOULD BE VERY EMBARRASSING FOR PEACHES TO FIND IT. HAVE YOU TRIED LOOKING IN YOUR ROOMS?” Nook questions and Lucky falters.

“WELL UM YES WE THOUGHT BUT PERHAPS YOU COULD HELP US? MORE EYES THE BETTER AT FINDING IT!” Lucky is trying to persuade Nook into helping them find at least Blue or Orange’s room.

Strike smirks. His bro is really good at handling things when he tries.

“NO THANKS.” Nook shrugs and walks off leaving Lucky and Strike to their stupor.

“Uh… Ok…” Strike looks at him quizzically and Nook pauses with a brow raised.

“LOOK, I’M NOT PAPYRUS… WELL TECHNICALLY I AM BUT I’M NOT JUST GOING TO RUN AROUND LOOKING FOR SOMEONE ELSE'S UNMENTIONABLES. THAT’S JUST… WELL UNSANITARY AND RUDE.” Nook scoffs at the other two and meanders off a ways… then turns and eyes them making them stiff.

“YOU TWO ARE ACTING VERY STRANGE. IT’S ALMOST AS IF YOU NEED ME TO FIND YOUR ROOMS ON THE OTHER SIDE DOWN THAT HALL.” He points and both skeletons waive their hands in defense.

“NO NO! OF COURSE NOT! IT’S BEEN A LONG DAY HELPING ORANGE GET THAT FILTHY LAUNDRY TOGETHER.” Lucky is quick on the draw to lie again.

“Yeah it’s been exhausting work waiting for the clothes to be finished… getting pressed…” Strike realizes he didn’t know what those machines were… he only knew dry cleaners… Lucky glares at him briefly.

“OH YES! PERMANENT PRESS! GOOD CYCLE! TAKES FOREVER BUT IT DOES GET EVERYTHING NICELY CRISP AND CLEAN.” Nook nods with a smile and then carries on down stairs.

Lucky and Strike both heave a sigh of relief they didn’t realize they were holding.

[kiwi-bitchez]

Can you do a frat Tom story, where he’s a cocky player and y/n hates him? One day, they get stuck at the campus laundromat together, so they start talking and Tom is actually funny and nice. Y/N lets her guard down and they start kissing. And then Tom takes advantage of the moment and his cocky side turns back on and he starts dominating. He takes her to the back and makes her get on her knees to blow him and he makes her gag for him and he's boasting and dirty talking.

Rinse and Spin

OOF This suggestion is HOT. Thank you!!! Honestly this had me sweating. I tried my best! Requests/suggestions are always open!

Summary: basically above, you and tom get stuck in the laundry room together and some smutty fun ensues. College!AU, Frat!Tom, Lowkey enemies to lovers

Warnings: Smut, mentions of alcohol, mostly smut, it’s all smut. 

College was an exciting new chapter for you. Last year when you started school you were bright eyed and bushy tailed for all the new possibilities and independence that college brings. Living on your own, studying at your own pace, meeting new people, it all excited you. 

However after a few semesters had gone by the excitement slowly wore off and you fell into a regular routine. You didn’t dislike school by any stretch, but you have always been keen on seeing things as they truly are.

One of the aspects of college that had really excited you was the idea that everyone would shed their immaturity from high school and grow up quickly. You hoped to meet people who took school seriously and didn’t have that unattractive immaturity that so many high school boys had.

This was all a fantasy in your head of course. There were still many people who disrespected professors, slept through all their classes, and acted like sixteen year olds who had been finally let loose from their parents. You assumed the freedom and expectations of college would cause everyone to grow up, but a girl can only dream.

The worst was Tom Holland. You had been partnered with him last semester for a group project and he lives up to all your expectations of a typical asshole frat boy.

He never bothered to learn your name, just calling you “babe” or “love” in that cocky way that probably worked on some girls, but not you. You ended up doing most of the project yourself because the idea of meeting up with him outside class seemed unbearable. 

After that it was like you couldn’t stop running into him. At parties, in class, at the coffee shop, he was like an irritating bug that you couldn’t seem to squash.

He was the type of guy who loved being the center of attention. It came as no shock to you that he was the president of some stupid frat on campus, the one that threw the biggest parties. In your eyes frat boys had nothing filling their heads other than cheap beer and objectifying women. You tried your best to stay away from them, but did get dragged to the occasional party. 

You had luckily found a group of friends that lived up to your expectations of mature college students, they were funny and smart and you were lucky to have them. The area you weren’t so lucky with was dating. You had a few hookups at parties but nothing worth writing home about, and most of the boys you met either bored you or fell into the asshole frat boy category.

You look around your small dorm room and decide to straighten some things up. You had finished all your assignments and your friends didn’t get out of class for a few hours, so this seemed like the perfect time to do some laundry.

You toss your dirty clothes into your hamper and head down to the communal laundry room in the basement. You didn’t bother changing out of your pajamas, some loose shorts and a t-shirt sans bra, you figured you’d be back in your room soon enough. 

The door was open a crack, so you slip in and put down your heavy hamper next to an open washing machine. You notice someone sitting across the room out of the corner of your eye, it wasn’t unusual for students to wait for their laundry to finish. 

However, the creeping feeling in your stomach, the way the hair on the back of your neck stood up on end gave away quickly who the figure was. Ugh, Tom. He had headphones on and seemed to be minding his business, so you hoped you could get your laundry in and leave before he noticed you and said some snarky remark.

That was the thing about Tom, you were one of the only girls who didn’t buy into his smooth accent and pretty face. You would call him out for his bullshit and tell him he’s a creep whenever he made a pass at you. You could tell he liked it though, the back and forth of you telling the other how much you despised them, he liked that you could dish it back.

You manage to get your clothes into the washer, but quickly realize that you left your laundry card upstairs. You dig around your wallet for some quarters, coming up with just the right amount. Jamming them into the busted machine you quickly lose hope of them working, realizing you’d have to go back up for your card. 

“Need some help there sweetheart?” Tom asks from across the room.

Your hope of going unnoticed was shattered. Taking in a deep breath you roll your eyes and turn around to face him.

“No thanks sweetheart, machine won’t take my quarters,” you quickly turn back around, hoping that would be the end of the interaction. 

You start to gather your things to head back upstairs when you notice that he’s left his spot and is walking up behind you.

“Here just use mine,” he holds his card out.

“No thanks Holland, not taking any favors from you.”

“Really, it’s no biggie,” he taps the card against the sensor in the machine and pays the $1.25 for your load, “it’s the least I can do after you got me that A on the bio project last semester.” 

You were surprised that he even remembered that. You hold out your handful of quarters to pay him back.

“I don’t want your coins,” he chuckles.

“Well you certainly aren’t getting anything else from me,” you head towards the door, not knowing what to make of that interaction.

You needed the laundry card to swipe the door open, and it had been open a crack when you had come in.

“Hey,” you turn back around, “mind lending me that again so I can open the door?”

He runs up beside you and presses the card against the sensor, getting a little closer to you than you would have liked. The monitor turned red and starts blinking, indicating the card wasn’t working.

He tries again, “Strange, worked just a second ago.”

“Stop fucking with me Tom,” you grab the card from his hand, but it doesn’t work when you try either.

“Why do you always doubt me,” he takes the card back and examines it, “it’s not like I want to be stuck in here with you either.”

“Did you have the card near your phone?” you ask.

He realizes he had put the card back into the wrong pocket after paying for your laundry. The cheap cards are sensitive to technology and can get messed up if they get too close to a phone. 

He takes his phone out of his pocket, “oh my god, of course you’re the type of person who doesn’t put a case on their phone,” you roll your eyes again at him. 

“Guess you’re just gonna have to wait here with me until someone else can buzz us out.” 

“Damn I better start screaming for help then.”

He lets out a chuckle and returns to his seat on top of one of the dryers. You might as well take a seat too, it may be awhile before someone comes to release you from this hell. You hop up onto one of the dryers across the room from him, desperately wishing you had your phone or anything to distract you. 

“Cute shirt,” he comments.

“Shut up,” you realize he was probably commenting on how you weren’t wearing a bra. 

“No, I mean it,” he sounded a little hurt, “that band is really cool.” Referencing the band logo on your tee.

You give him an inquisitive look, trying to read his motives.

“Last summer I worked security at a small concert venue downtown, got into a lot of cool shows for free.” 

You would usually take this as him bragging, but he actually seemed interested in talking to you. He told you about some of the shows he worked at and you told him about the music festival you had gone to. 

After talking like civilized humans for a while he decides to ask, “Why do you hate me so much?” 

“Hmm?” You look up from the hem of your shirt that you had been fiddling with.

“It just seems like you hate me and you don’t even know me.”

“I think I know you well enough to know that we don’t get along.” 

“That’s not true at all, you don’t know the first thing about me!” He got up from his spot and moved closer to you.

“I guess I just don’t want to bother getting to know some egotistical frat boy who thinks every girl wants his dick, you’re just like the rest of them. Even worse, you’re their freaking leader! What do you want me to know about you huh? How much beer you can chug? How many girls you’ve fucked? I’m not interested.” 

“Wow, harsh,” he was actually a little hurt by your comment, but kept the smug grin plastered on his face.

“See, you’re not even listening to me. You just smile and nod until a girl opens her legs for you, so move on cuz I’m not buying it.”

“Oh, you think you’re so high and mighty because you stay cooped up in your dorm room studying like the perfect fucking princess you are,” his tone was mocking, “some of us manage to have fun and get good grades, you’re not special, doll, you’re just a buzzkill. I bet you’ve never even been to one of our frat parties.”

“I’ve been to a few,” you mumble defensively.

“So what, maybe it’s all kegs and tits some of the time, but we also do a lot of really cool stuff too.”

“Oh yeah, like what?” your voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“We do a lot of charity type shit around campus, hosting events and stuff.”

“Charity type shit,” you mocked him. 

“Last semester we did this event where we set up these big tables and just handed out free dildos and condoms and lube,” he started explaining.

“Wow, so charitable, your frat gives out free sex toys to get girls attention, sorry I ever questioned you Mother Theresa.”

“Hey, let me finish,” he puts up his hands, “we were petitioning against campus gun laws. We were trying to make a statement about how some sex toys are against campus rules but there are no gun laws.”

“Oh,” you felt really stupid, “that actually is pretty cool.”

“See, you always are so judgy, if you just listened to me for three seconds then maybe you wouldn’t hate me so much. You just jump to conclusions about people before even talking to them.” 

“I guess,” you turn to him, now sitting next to you on the dryer, “Sorry.”

“See, I like cool music and dildos too, we aren’t so different you and I,” you still wanted to wipe the grin off his face. 

“You don’t know that about me,” you say flatly. 

“Okay well I do know that you are into that one band,” he gestures to your t shirt, “and you are really good at bio… and you do your laundry at weird times of the day…”

You turn to him and lower your eyes, giving him an exasperated look. 

“And I know that you like coconut milk in your coffee, and you always get those chocolate pastry things…”

Your eyes widen a little, realizing how closely he must have paid attention to you to pick up on those things. You let your guard down for a second, giving him the benefit of the doubt for once. 

“And I know that you look really good in just your pajamas,” he nudges your side, “and I know that… you have really pretty eyes…”

His eyes meet yours, and you suddenly felt so vulnerable. 

“Shut up,” you whisper.

“I’m just telling you things that I know to be facts,” he whispers too, his face was very close to yours, and strangely you didn’t mind. 

Your mind went a little fuzzy as you stared into his coffee colored eyes, no longer trying to read him and just appreciating their color. A magnetic pull drew your face to his, almost like something you couldn’t have stopped even if you had wanted to. Before you could even realize it, your lips were firmly planted on his, hands frantically coming up to the sides of his face. 

Tom would be completely lying if he said he knew this would happen. He hadn’t been trying to win you over, smooth talk you like he did to other girls. The two of you had just been having a normal conversation. 

He was taken aback because rarely was he the one being kissed, usually he was the initiator. It only took seconds before he kissed you back, lips moving in synchronicity with yours. Your tongues connected harshly and angrily. He couldn’t tell if you liked him or still hated him, but by the way you felt in his mouth he didn’t care.

Your eyes flutter open, mind finally processing your actions. You harshly pull back, hands quickly moving away from his face and grabbing down onto the edge of the dryer. Your eyes grew wide and a look that could be mistaken for terror flashed across your face.

“Um- I…,” your tongue felt dry and heavy in your mouth, like you were suddenly having an allergic reaction to what you had just done.

You couldn’t come up with anything to say, and before you could his lips were on yours again. He pulled you in by the back of your neck, tongue moving over yours quickly resuming where you had left off.

Neither one of you could reason why this was happening, but it felt too right to care. You let yourself get lost in the kiss, ignoring how crazy and stupid and strange you felt. Suddenly you were leaning back, letting him pin you down against the cold metal beneath you. His hands gripped your sides with purpose and certainty, something you hadn’t ever felt from someone.

His teeth lightly graze your lower lip, pulling it slightly from your mouth. You let out an unexpected whimper, it was quiet and quick but you were sure he had heard. He did. It drove him fucking crazy.

He felt your body writhe underneath him, back arching slightly as his hands slid up your sides. Quickly realizing that the top of a washing machine was not the best place for this, he lifts you up, moving you so you were now straddling his lap.

A small gasp escaped you, surprised at how his strong arms swooped you up so easily. You let your whole body weight sink down onto his lap, pressing your chest tightly against his. Now it was his turn to let out a groan that wouldn’t go unnoticed.

He somehow slides off the machine and stands up, keeping you wrapped up against his torso. He moved with purpose across the small room, slipping into the small back room where no one could see you.

You were lost in the movement of the kiss when you feel your back firmly press against the wall, his body leaning into yours, the kiss getting hotter and wetter. You involuntarily roll your hips towards him, searching for some friction.

“Tell me you want me,” he groans into your mouth.

The way he looked at you like a hungry animal made your breath catch in your throat. His mouth moved to your neck and he buried his head there, kissing and sucking at your soft skin. The haze in your mind cleared for a second of clarity and you spoke with more conviction,

“I refuse to be one of your sexual conquests, Holland,” you continued to roll your hips against his, “You don’t get to tell everyone you fucked some nerdy girl in the laundromat.”

“Our secret,” he moves back to your lips, “but I need to hear you say it.”

“I want you,” your voice shrunk to a whisper.

One of his hands comes up to your chin, angling your head so he has full access to your neck. His tongue works against your pulse point as his hands come down to your things. Your shorts were a thin material, and he could easily feel you through them.

He squeezes your upper thighs, slowly moving up to your hips, pulling you into him.

“Tell me what you want,” your eyes roll back as his hands creep towards your dripping center, “tell me where to touch you.”

“Please,” you felt pathetic, but you press your hips further, trying to make contact with his hand, “I need you to touch me.”

His fingers dance under the hem of your shorts, moving up to your damp underwear.

“Is this all for me?” he says, almost mockingly, “I did this to you?”

You could only moan into his mouth as his fingers slipped into your underwear and moved against your wet folds. You tried to grind into his hand, but his grip on your hip kept you firmly planted against the wall.

“You act like you hate me, but you’ve been dripping for me this whole time haven’t you?”

He slipped a finger into you, curling it perfectly against your inner walls. He could feel you squeeze against him, your arousal starting to cover his whole hand. You couldn’t answer his question, rhetorical in nature, only gasp into his parted lips as he added a second finger.

 He lowers his head to nip at your chest through your thin t-shirt, teeth grazing your nipple through the fabric. You manage to slip out of it, still pressed against the wall, legs shaky under you.

His mouth comes down to attack your chest with bites and hickeys as he continues pumping his two long fingers into you, thumb moving tight circles on your clit. You were slightly embarrassed at how quickly you felt your climax nearing. You had always thought of him as a cocky player, but at least this boy knew exactly what he was doing.

You moan out his name with a slew of profanities, eyes closing tightly. His lips move up to your ear, speaking directly to you as you start to shake under him,

“What is it?” his tone was arrogant and knowing.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come soon,” you squeak out.

“I’m going to make you come,” his hand suddenly moving faster and harder.

“Mmmhh, yes Tommy, you’re making me feel so fucking good.”

“I want you to come on my fingers, and then I want you to get on your knees and suck my cock with those pretty lips of yours.”

Your moans were getting higher pitched, his words only intensifying how good he was making you feel.

“I bet you’d like that huh. You wanna feel my cock in your mouth?”

You bite your lip and nod, feeling yourself tip over the edge with a cry of his name. His thumb moved quickly against your clit, fingers plunging a little deeper as he felt you contract around him.

You collapse forward, grabbing onto his shoulder, biting down on his skin to silence your own screams. You catch a glance at his face, that stupid cocky smirk still plastered onto him. In this moment you couldn’t bother to care, you could only focus on staying standing as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

When your eyes finally came back into focus, he was pulling his fingers from you and slipping them into his mouth. His thumb brushes across your jaw, migrating to press into your lower lip. You let your mouth slip down onto his digit, your tongue pressing against his thumb.

“Look at you,” he pulls his finger back, dragging your lower lip with it, “so fucking good for me.”

You give him a wide eyed look and start making work of his belt. His cock is hard and firmly pressed against the inside of his jeans. You palm him through the thick material for a second while dealing with the button and zipper.

You sink to your knees, fulfilling his request from earlier.

“Wait, here,” he grabs a towel off of a nearby machine and places it on the ground in front of him, “for your knees, the ground is really hard.”

It made you laugh how he had been so cocky one second and thoughtful the next.

“Thank you,” you say softly as you pump the shaft of his dick, looking up at him with big eyes while bringing your tongue out to lick a stripe up the underside.

His shirt was off now too and you couldn’t help but notice how beautiful his body was. You had always recognized that Tom was conventionally very attractive, but suddenly he was fucking hot to you.

You swirl your tongue around his tip and watch as his head tips back, causing him to let out a groan. You take his hand and move it to your hair, giving him permission to hold it.

He twists your hair into a makeshift ponytail, brushing the stray pieces back from your face. He grips tightly, pulling a little. You give him a moan and a nod, letting him know it was okay to pull harder.

He moves your head back and forth to meet your movements, hips moving slightly in the process. You gag a little as he hits the back of your throat, but continue bobbing your head, letting him slide down your throat a little every so often.

“Fuck, you look so good on your knees for me, gagging on my cock,” he tightens his grip on your hair, “taking me so well.”

The sight of you on your knees for him, lips wrapped perfectly around his shaft sent shivers down his spine. He watched attentively as his cock slid in and out of your mouth, your saliva leaving a wet trail around his length. What killed him was when you would look up at him through your eyelashes, big doe eyes begging him to fuck your face. 

You dare to move south, taking one of his balls in your mouth as you continue jerking him off. You moan into him as he pulls your hair, vibrations adding to his pleasure. 

“Fuck y/n, you’re fucking dirty aren’t you?” He was a little surprised at how aggressive you were taking him, shoving his cock deeper and deeper down your throat. 

“I bet you’ve thought about this before, being a good girl on your knees for me, taking what I give you.”

Your eyes flutter shut as you flatten your tongue against his shaft, letting his hips do the work. You surely had never thought about him in this way before, that he was wrong about, but you surely would be thinking about sucking his dick all the time from now on.  

You feel his cock twitch in your mouth, swelling a little at the feeling of your tongue. You knew he was close by his grip on your hair and his hip movements. You take him deep down your throat, sucking and lapping up his shaft. 

“I’m gonna come y/n,” he warns you, although you already knew.

You continue to suck vigorously, swallowing his come and continuing to suck on him until his legs are shaking a little under your grasp. He lets go of your hair, which messily falls down around you. You release his dick from your mouth with a pop, admiring your work as it was red and twitching. 

Tom slumps down against the wall and sits on the floor, meeting you at eye level. You look at him for a second, unable to read his reaction. You knew he liked it by the noises he had been making, but he sat across from you running his hands through his hair. 

“What the fuck was all that.”

“I don’t know! You tell me!” you say defensively, “You seemed to like it.”

“Well yeah, you seemed to like it too,” he retorts, “actually, you seem to like it much more than most girls like sucking cock in my experience.”

“What can I say, you have a pretty dick.”

“Only pretty cuz it fits in your mouth so well.”

What were you doing? Was this flirting? You stand up and shake yourself off, walking over to where your clothes had been discarded. You start to slip your underwear back on. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Tom jokes, also getting up from the floor. 

“Someone could walk in, plus I have to switch my laundry, gonna need your card again by the way.”

“This is some kind of fucked up trade off if you ask me,” he jokes. 

“Still hate me?” He quips, always cocky.

“Jury’s still out,” you start to move your clothes into the dryer, “I’m gonna need to see more of what you have to offer before I decide.” 

“Well, the dryer takes about an hour and I was hoping to make you come a few more times. Wanna see that pretty look on your face again.” 

You sit up on top of the dryer and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Let’s see what you’ve got.” 

[thorne93]

The Stars Made Us (Part 15)

Prompt: In this world, you’re one of the “lucky” ones who got a soulmate, but what if the universe gives you more than you bargained for?

(Prompt challenge – You live in a world where your soulmate can write on their skin and you will get the writing on your own and vice versa. Where they can wash away the ink on their own skin, however, the writing is forever scarred onto your skin until you meet face to face)

Word Count: 2218

Warnings: angst and language throughout

Notes: This was supposed to be for @sorryimacrapwriter  and their challenge like a year ago, I think? I still loved the prompt though and have been working on this story for quite some time. This aesthetic was made by @quailliamfears, thank you so much! Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes​, couldn’t have done it without you, as well as @carryonmyswansong​ and @arrow-guy​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​

Also, I’ve never really liked the whole soulmate AU thing idea, but this felt so right and it was amazing to write. I hope y’all love it too!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wound up at the door of an expensive apartment in the center of Manhattan. Well, at least it wasn’t a far journey. You knocked on the door, unsure what to expect.

When a woman with stunning red hair opened the door, your eyes narrowed in surprise.

“Stephen? Are you expecting company?” she called behind her into the apartment.

“No, I--” you began to answer before holding out your hand, hoping she could see the marking. She took your hand in hers, reading the mark left by Stephen. 

“You’re his soulmate?” she asked in astonishment. She glanced back to someone, but you couldn’t see around her. “You’ve got a lot on your hands,” she mused before pursing her lips and breezing past you.

You frowned, wondering what that meant, and who that was. You took a tentative step in, letting the door close behind you. You finally saw the figure who was standing at a window, his back to you. 

“Are you...Stephen Strange?” you asked aloud. 

“Who’s asking?” he asked tersely, not turning to you.

“I’m Y/F/N,” you informed, walking forward, your hand outstretched. 

“And I should care, why?” he asked, finally turning around. When he did, his appearance surprised you. He looked unkempt. A beard that was unruly, hair that was matted and needed a wash, in a robe that needed to see the inside of a washing machine, and worn eyes. 

“I’m your soulmate,” you explained, going to show him your hand, only to realize and remember that the markings disappeared the moment you two saw each other. 

“If you’re here looking for money, you’re barking up the wrong tree, I don’t have any money,” he told you, defeated as he fell into a chair. “Not anymore.” 

You shook your head. “I came here simply because your name and location appeared on my arm.” Then you sat down at the table with him.

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” he snapped.

You looked him up and down, a look of sympathy in your eyes. He reminded you of Charles when you first met him -- broken, damaged, self-loathing, a total wreck. You didn’t know the first thing about this man, but you knew he needed your help. 

“You don’t believe in soulmates,” you surmised from his tone.

“No, I don’t.”

You sat there as he was clearly dismissing you. You looked at him and immediately started a psychological profile on him. He had wealth… his hands appeared to be damaged… he was clearly upset… so was the woman who left… he was arrogant....

That’s when you remembered the first mark that ever showed up on your skin from him -- it was shorthand. 

“You’re a doctor,” you suddenly breathed out in realization.

“Congratulations. Would you like a prize?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“I’d like you to talk to me. A few months ago, you wrote shorthand on your left hand, and it showed up on mine. Now, normally, this wouldn’t be that big of a deal--”

“But?” he pressed, his temper showing. 

“But I’ve already got a soulmate…”

His attention slowly turned on you some more. Now he seemed interested.

“You already have a soulmate?”

You nodded. “Yes, I got him when I was eighteen. We wrote on our skin for years, emailed back and forth, then suddenly… his name and address came to me. We’ve been living together for a while now… But then one day, your shorthand popped up on my hand and we didn’t know what to make of it. Neither did the county clerk. They said they’ve never had a record of someone having two mates.”

Stephen narrowed his eyes on you. “So, what -- I’m supposed to believe you and I are mates? Bullshit.” 

“Ever wonder why you have all those marks on your arm?” you inquired. “Scars you never got?”

“I ignored them,” he grumbled as he looked away.

“Why?”

“Soulmates are for children,” he explained as his attention snapped back to you. He leaned closer to you. “Love is just a waste of time. It’s one giant Hallmark holiday.” 

You peered at him with a side smile.

“Oh, do you find that amusing?”

“I find your defense mechanisms incredible. Tell me, do they usually work?” you asked. 

He glared at you. “What are you? A shrink?”

“I prefer the term psychiatrist,” you noted simply with a grin. 

“Oh, great. So you think if we talk, if I just open up, then all of this will be okay?”

“No, I don’t. I have no idea what’s going on here but I’m going to bet it has something to do with a recent trauma, my guess is physical. You were a doctor, no? Possibly surgeon of some kind. You had some kind of damage to your hands and now they won’t work.” 

“Wow, you really know how to make a guys problems sound minimal. Yes, my hands, the source of my work, the source of my ability are fucked, alright? I had the steadiest hand on this side of the globe. I was world renowned. I got into a car accident and the jackasses at the hospital ruined me, alright? They ruined me!” he shouted. “I’ve been through every experimental surgery there is and it’s not getting any better. I’ve spent everything but my last dime trying to get back to where I was. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Stephen, I only want to hear what you want to tell me. I didn’t choose to come here, the universe told me you needed me. I think it’s very clear that you do.” 

“Oh yeah, because we’re so close, you know everything about me. Well what would you know about having your livelihood ripped away from you?” he remarked. 

“Nothing,” you answered honestly. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t sympathize, that I can’t help…” 

“Help,” he scoffed. “I don’t need help, yours or anyone else’s.” 

“You mean like the woman that just walked out? Did you throw her out or did she leave?” you wondered.

“Hey, I don’t need any fucking mind games, okay? I’ve got enough to deal with without playing ‘Get Psychoanalyzed’ with some stranger.” 

“We wouldn’t be strangers if you weren’t so afraid of getting hurt by love again,” you stated.

He narrowed his stormy grey eyes at you. “You don’t know the first thing about me.”

“I know I’m right. The way you get defensive and hostile every time I bring up love, it seems to really bother you. I don’t think it’s romantic though.” You peered at him as he seemed annoyed. “No, if it was romantic, that woman wouldn’t have walked out of here. I don’t think it has anything to do with that. Romantic love can be forgotten, let go, replaced… You lost a loved one, didn’t you?”

“Are you a fortune teller? If I tell you you’re right, are you going to leave me alone?”

“I’m not going to leave you alone until you look well enough to take a proper bath by yourself. I’m judging by your hair and facial hair that your lady friend tries to keep up with your hygiene but struggles.” 

“I’m not a toddler.”

“No, but you do need help,” you insisted easily.

“Let me make this perfectly clear: I didn’t ask for your help, I don’t want your help, I don’t need your help. So please, see yourself to the door and make your way back to your other soulmate or your first soulmate or whoever it is and leave...me...alone.” 

You sucked in your lips, trying to think of a way to get him to let you stay. Clearly he had a lot of pride. Charles wasn’t extremely pleasant when you met him in his state of need. But this was completely different. This man didn’t want anyone around… Maybe that was it… 

“Maybe you don’t want pity, or help, or for anyone to see you this way,” you offered, “but from where I’m sitting, it looks like you could use someone in your life. I take it that that woman was probably about the only person you had left.” 

He didn’t say anything, just looked away with resentful eyes.

“If I’m right about the fact that you’ve lost a loved one -- family, and that woman was the last friend you had… Sitting alone in a huge apartment isn’t going to do anything for your morale. You’re a doctor, you know patients need hope to get better. Being alone and feeling helpless isn’t going to get any better, and it certainly won’t make your hands return to normal.” 

His eyes shifted to the floor, looking around, as if to avoid your face. 

“I’m not here to ridicule or pity. I don’t know anything about you except you seem like a man lost within himself and he doesn’t want to ask for help for fear he’ll be seen as a failure. I’m not going to judge you. I’m a doctor, you’re a doctor, just let me help you.”

“Really took the whole oath thing to another level huh?” he mocked. His eyes found yours before eyeing you up and down slowly. “You’re really not going to leave, are you?” he asked, seeming to accept this. 

“I’m a psychiatrist, Stephen, I’ve seen a lot worse than you,” you informed boldly. 

He slightly rolled his eyes. “If you’re going to stay, I guess you can make yourself useful. I need laundry done.”

You nodded with a partial smile. “Sure thing. Just point the way.” 

With that, he lazily pointed down the hall. There you found a stack of laundry inside a large master bedroom. You picked it all up and then went by him. He was still moping at his glass dining room table. 

“Do you have a washing machine downstairs?”

“Basement. Take the elevator all the way down. They’re on the left.” 

“I’ll be right back,” you kindly said. 

You got downstairs and sorted all of the laundry, got three loads started, and came back up while those worked. “Alright, what next?”

“Dishes, I suppose. Christine can bring food, she just can’t clean up after it.”

You smiled and nodded as you walked away from the dining area to the open kitchen to do his dishes. 

“So… Christine… she’s your…” you trailed off, wanting him to fill in the blanks as you picked up the dishes to get them ready to clean.

“Colleague,” he stated, warning just under his tone. 

“Are you sure you two haven’t been closer?” you wondered. 

“If you’re just going to psychoanalyze me--”

“I’m not giving you a free therapy session, Dr. Strange, I’m trying to get to know you. Like you, my skills are highly regarded and sought after. Giving you a free session wouldn’t be fair to everyone else.”

He mulled over your words for a moment and realized you were right. Giving therapy wasn’t free or easy, and a lot of time and energy went into it. So he humored you. “Well if you must know, yes, we dated for a while.” 

“Was it serious?” 

“If it was serious we’d be married, don’t you think?”

“Not necessarily.” 

He watched you work for a moment before sighing. “No, I suppose it wasn’t. I think we wanted it to be, and it just didn’t work that way.”

“And why is that?” 

“You know, we just met, I’m not sure you should be asking me all this. You’re the stranger who came into my home. I feel like I should be vetting you.”

“We wouldn’t be strangers if you had just responded to some of my messages,” you argued, a sort of teasing in your tone as you continued to work on getting the dishes loaded.

“So you really believe in all this romantic nonsense, that there really is one person out there for everyone?” he asked, sounding curious. 

“Not quite. If I felt that, everyone would have a soulmate. I think a select few get their partners. I also think people who don’t have soulmates have very loving and fantastic relationships, perhaps better than some soulmates.” 

“So why go through all this? If you’re already with a mate, why are you here with me?” 

You turned to him, putting your hands on the counter between dishes as you looked directly at him. “The universe led me to one great man, why wouldn’t it do so again? I trust it.” 

“That’s a lot of faith.”

“Perhaps I can have enough faith and hope for the both of us, since clearly you need it.” 

He didn’t respond and two seconds later, you announced, “Done! Dishes are loaded and washing.” 

“Thanks. I’m going to bed,” he said as he got up. 

You frowned. “Alright. Do you need help?”

“No, over the years I’ve mastered the art of laying my body in a bed and pulling covers over myself.” 

You sighed. “Alright, if you’re going to be an ass about it, I’ll put the things in the dryer and then I’m going to a hotel nearby. Expect me back in the morning,” you called after him as he walked into his room.

“Expect me to still not want you here,” he called back. 

You rolled your eyes, smiling at the challenge you were about to face before stepping out of his apartment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[stylesluxx]

cold? chilling? freezing? (VI) – s.rogers

[warnings: fury getting shot but that’s it I think]

summary: in which y/n is an assassin turned lover | part five | part seven

word count: 1,758

masterlist

You didn't go straight back to the apartment after you visited the Smithsonian. You remembered it was your night to cook so you spent the afternoon in the grocery store.

You never had to cook until you lived with the super-soldier. You loved takeout but he complained about it after a week. Something about wanting a real home-cooked meal. He cooked for the first month before you ended up getting food poisoning because honestly, he's horrible at cooking. Then you tried to take over and come to find out you too were a horrible chef.

So, every Saturday night you and Steve went to cooking classes and tried to get a hang of it. You started to buy pots and pans and baking sheets. You wouldn't say you were Gordan Ramsey or anything but you were 10 times better of a cook than you were two years ago.

When you got back to the apartment, Steve had just opened the door to the building and smiled when he spotted you. He reached and held the door so it wouldn't close on you before shutting it softly behind you. You looked at the stairs in front of you and sighed before beginning the journey up.

"How was the rest of your afternoon, Captain?" You asked as he took the bags from your hands.

"It was... enlightening. I met with Sam, the guy from the park. He has a support group for veterans," Steve nodded thoughtfully.

"Maybe you should attend that as well. The missions might start to become a bit much after a while. And it'll help you adapt better," You suggested and looked up at him as we walked beside you.

"And what about you?"

"I, uh, Director Fury has already set me up with the therapist. Agent Romanoff recommended it and I respect her advice. We're more similar than I originally thought," You hesitantly spoke, not wanting to divulge too much. "Did you see Miss Carter today?"

"Yeah, I did."

"And how was that?"

"It was good. She thinks I put too much pressure on myself."

"I agree with her, one hundred percent."

"I feel like you've been attacking me ever since you walked in the building," He teased with a light smile on his face, making you laugh.

"Well, get your shit together Rogers," You smiled at him and walked up the last step.

You spotted the blonde woman opening her door and you turned back to give Steve a wink.

"Good evening," You greeted her with a smile and wave.

She was on the phone and had a laundry basket in her hand as she tried to open to door to her apartment. She gave you and Steve smiles before finishing up her phone call and turning to you and Steve.

"My aunt, she's kind of an insomniac," She waved her phone before tossing it in the basket.

It was silent for a moment before you decided to speak up and help Steve out.

"Hey, if you want, you're welcome to use our machine. Might be cheaper than the one in the basement and you won't have to walk up and down all those stairs," You suggested. "And while it dries you and my friend here can maybe go out for coffee."

Steve looked back at you wide-eyed and full of shock before turning back to the blonde with a chivalrous smile.

"Thank you, but I already have a load in downstairs, and uh you really don't want my scrubs in your machine. I just finished a rotation in the infectious disease ward, so..." She softly declined, making you scratch the back of your head awkwardly.

"Well, I'll keep my distance," Steve played off the rejection with a light chuckle.

"Hopefully, not too far," She said slyly before turning to walk downstairs. She quickly turned back around as you got the keys out of your backpack. "Oh, and I think you left your stereo on."

"Oh, thank you," Steve said and turned to look at you once she walked away. At that instant, you both heard the 40s music playing for the record player.

"First of all, it seems like she's kinda into you," You started as you stuck the key in the lock. "And secondly, I didn't leave the stereo on. Didn't even touch it."

"You stay here with the groceries. I'll come open the door when the coast is clear," Steve said and set the bags down beside you and quietly retreated down the steps.

Two years ago you would've walked in with the keys in between your knuckles. You don't know why you listened to Steve, he wasn't necessarily Captain right now and you weren't on a mission. But you listened to him. Your gut told you to listen and to trust him.

You waited for all about five minutes before the front door opened and Steve had his shield in his hand. You surveyed him for any injuries before letting the keys fall from your knuckles. You walked in and set the groceries down on the kitchen counter.

You followed him to the living room and leaned against the wall, your arms crossed over your chest.

"I don't remember giving you a key," You said to Fury as he sat comfortably in your favorite chair.

You liked to sit there during the day while reading a book. You get to see Steve as soon as he walks in and he sees you instantly as well. It was a nice way to start the afternoon.

"You really think I'd need one?" He asked, sitting up. "My wife kicked me out."

"Didn't know you were married," Steve spoke up.

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me."

"I know, Nick. That's the problem."

Steve walked over and turned the overhead light on and we both got a good look at the man in front of us. He was bloodied and bruised, an unusual sight.

Fury put up a hand to still us and reached up and turned the lamp that was next to him off.

He typed in his phone before showing us. It read "EARS EVERYWHERE." I looked over at Steve before walking a few steps closer to him.

"I'm sorry I had to do this but I have no place else to crash."

Steve looked around the room, trying to spot anything out of place or abnormal.

Fury typed on his phone again before showing us a new message, "SHIELD COMPROMISED."

"Who else knows about your wife?" You asked and watched Fury stand up, holding his side.

"Just us three," He said and showed us the phone with the exactly same words. "My friends."

"Is that what we are?" Steve asked hostilely.

"That's up to you," Fury said before screaming in pain and buckling to his knees.

Steve dragged his body from the living room to the kitchen and you pulled out your gun from its place in your holster.

You heard Fury cough out "don't trust anyone" as soon as the front door was kicked down and revealed the blonde "nurse" with a gun in her hand.

"Captain Rogers? Agent Y/L/N? I'm Agent 13 of S.H.I.E.L.D. Special Service," She said calmly. "I was assigned to protect you."

You looked back at Steve and gave him a look before turning back to her.

"On whose order?" Steve asked.

"His," She said and got on her knees to check Fury's pulse.

Steve looked at her dumbfounded but you couldn't believe you were right about her.

She spoke into her walkie talkie and you turned to look in the direction the previous bullets came from.

"Tell him I'm in pursuit," Steve said. He walked backward to get a head start before running and jumping through two windows to chase the shooter.

Sharon gave you an address to where Fury would be taken. Some hospital in the middle of the city which made you look at her weird. Fury was way too private to be taken care of at a public facility but you went along with it.

You ran downstairs and to Steve's bike where you knew he'd meet you. You put the gun back and grabbed his helmet (though it was really yours because he never used it). You put it on and secured it as you saw him running to you.He got on the bike and you followed his lead, wrapping your arms around his waist. He wasted no time speeding off when you told him the address.

—

"Tell me about the shooter," You asked of Steve so you could distract yourself from your boss laying on the operation table.

"He's fast. Strong. Had a metal arm."

Maria Hill walked next to you and looked at Fury.

"Ballistics?" You questioned.

"Three slugs, no rifling. Completely untraceable," She answered.

"Soviet-made."

"Yeah," She said shocked and looked over at you before turning back to the operation table.

You watched emotionless as the doctors and nurses tried to revive Fury but to no avail. Emotionless only because you weren't in the room by yourself. You didn't know Fury too well, no one did, but he (and Romanoff) helped you believe that therapy was a valid option and it was okay to go.

Steve was the first to walk out and then Agent Hill. You stood there for a moment to ensure you were completely alone before letting a small tear fall. You let it hit your Iron Man shirt before you wiped the wetness off your cheek and walked out of the room.

You spotted Steve not too far away and looked over at him. You walked over slowly and watched his eyes take you in, looking for any sign of distress. He found the wet spot on your shirt and gave you a sad smile.

"It'll be alright, Y/N," He assured you while looking right in your eyes, relaxing you.

You nodded, "I know, Captain."

"Cap, Y/L/N, they want you back at S.H.I.E.L.D.," You heard Agent Rumlow's voice disturb the moment.

"Yeah give us a second," Steve nodded.

"They want you now."

"Okay," Steve nodded again, this time with more force.

Rumlow walked off and you followed behind him while Steve stayed back. It seemed like he was having trouble with the vending machine but you ignored it and listened to the radios the S.T.R.I.K.E. team had. They wanted to question you and Steve.

The ride to headquarters was quiet. You rested your head on Steve's shoulder and his arm was wrapped around yours, holding onto you tight.

[AN: so this series is gonna be longer than I originally planned but not too much longer. and I’m super sorry this too so long to post, it was my birthday week so I was super busy. I think I’m putting this on hiatus; I don’t feel motivated to write it anymore]

[tags: @thisartemisnevermisses​ @thatoneperson5000​ @capstopavenger​]

[writing-prompts-for-friends]

Notes from Stephen King’s “On Writing” 03: How to Write

Now that King has laid out the tools before us, he sits down and tells us exactly how he goes about his craft. He acknowledges that everyone writes differently, and that how he writes may not jive with you, and that is okay. He is just walking us through what he does, and you can take what you want and leave what you don’t.

How to Summon Your Muse

“There is a muse, but he’s not going to come fluttering down into your writing room and scatter creative fairy-dust all over your typewriter or computer station. He lives in the ground. He’s a basement guy. You have to descend to his level, and once you get down there you have to furnish an apartment for him to live in. You have to do all the grunt labor, in other words, while the muse sits and smokes cigars and admires his bowling trophies and pretends to ignore you.”

Read a Lot and Write a Lot

“We read to experience the mediocre and the outright rotten; such experience helps us to recognize those things when they begin to creep into our own work, and to steer clear of them. We also read in order to measure ourselves against the good and the great, to get a sense of all that can be done. And we read in order to experience different styles.”

Man, I probably can’t even count how many times I’ve seen this piece of advice. But the fact that I’ve seen it this much means that it must be right, I guess. In particular, King advises us to read bad books, as the bad stuff is usually more glaring than the good, and we can learn from that. 

He also says that reading bad things can provide us positive inspiration.

“Most writers can remember the first book he/she put down thinking: I can do better than this. Hell, I am doing better than this! What could be more encouraging to the struggling writer than to realize his/her work is unquestionably better than that of someone who actually got paid for his/her stuff?”

Certainly, I have to agree with him.I remember the first time I was deflowered with bad fiction.

King also advises us to read good books, because we can learn about style, graceful narration, plot development, the creation of believable characters, and truth-telling. 

On Finding Time to Read

It’s not that we don’t want to read, it’s that we just don’t have the time to read when we’re working and have other obligations and also want to write. So how do we find the time to read? King says:

“The trick is to teach yourself to read in small sips as well as in long swallows.”

Especially with the advent of e-books, it is easier now than ever to have a book on hand at all times. Read in waiting rooms, in transit, in the checkout line, on the treadmill, and the bathroom. Read when you have an hour to yourself on Sunday. Just read when you can. 

On the Importance of Reading

“The real importance of reading is that it creates an ease  and intimacy with the process of writing. ... Constant reading will pull you into a place (a mindset, if you like the phrase) where you can write eagerly and without self-consciousness. It also offers you a constantly growing knowledge of what has been done and what hasn’t, what is trite and what is fresh, what works and what just lies there dying (or dead) on the page. The more you read, the less apt you are to make a fool of yourself with your pen.”

This makes a lot of sense. From personal experience, even though English is my native language and I love reading and writing, I stopped reading English for leisure when I moved to Japan. I poured all of my free time into learning Japanese, and I consumed only written Japanese media for about three years. When I went to pick up a pen again, it felt like a foreign object in my hand. My prose was clunky, the words were stop and start, and I was forgetting words. Especially since I spend a good 90% of my day in Japanese now, I make it a point to come home and read in English every night, and I have seen an improvement. 

How Much to Write?

Okay, so we know that we have to “read a lot” and “write a lot,” but let’s quantify that. (This is the specificity that I really love in this book.) 

King prefaces this section by making it clear that all authors work at different paces. James Joyce sometimes wrote just seven words a day. There was this dude Anthony Trollope who wrote for 2.5 hours every morning before work and stopped even if he was mid-sentence when time was up. If he finished writing a book before the 2.5 hours was finished, he would close that manuscript and start writing the next one. What a machine.

Also, just how many works must a person write to become a Real Writer? Harper Lee only wrote To Kill a Mockingbird. (I know a sequel has been released since King’s book was published, but don’t we all want to forget that sequel exists anyways?) This guy John Creasey wrote five hundred novels under ten different names. 

So how long your works are and how many works you have is your choice. You do you. But if you’re good at it and you love it, don’t put down that pen! 

Writing Schedule

King writes in the morning, takes naps in the afternoon, and spends time with his family in the evenings. That sounds like a dream come true to most of us that are still working a 9-5 and writing on the side. But that’s what he does now. 

To put things more concretely, he says that he has a strict 2,000 minimum that he must write every single day. Even if it’s like pulling teeth, even if it takes longer than he hoped, he does not stop until he has 2,000 new words on the page. 

King also believes that the first draft of a book, even a long one, should take no more than three months to write. (Personally I feel that could be difficult for everyone to do unless they have the ability to commit a certain amount of time everyday to writing no matter what.)

How to Keep Good Writing Habits

King gives us this advice.

Have a “writing room.” For King, this was the cramped laundry room while he wrote Carrie and Salem’s Lot. He isn’t telling you to add a room onto your house. Just have a space that is yours and free of distractions. Have a space that is designated for writing and nothing else, and make sure you can close the door to it. 

Set a daily writing goal for yourself. Even if it’s as low as 100 at first, that’s fine. Just write every day no matter what. He says you can take one day off a week at first. But only at first. 

Eliminate all possible distractions while writing. No phone, no TV, don’t even have the windows open (unless your view is boring). You can have music on if it helps filter out the outside world. 

Have a schedule. Dedicate a certain time before or after work that will be “writing time.” Let’s say mine is 8 pm to 10 pm every day.

Don’t wait for the muse. In King’s words, “Your job is to make sure the muse knows where you’re going to be every day from nine ‘til noon or seven ‘til three. If he does know, I assure you that sooner or later he’ll start showing up, chomping his cigar and making his magic.” Sidenote: King’s muse doesn’t match muse stereotypes lol.

“I think we’re actually talking about creative sleep. Like your bedroom, your writing room should be private, a place where you go to dream. You schedule -in at about the same time everyday, out when your word goal is on paper - exists in order to habituate yourself, to make yourself ready to dream just as you make yourself ready to sleep by going to bed at roughly the same time each night and following the same ritual as you go. In both writing and sleeping, we learn to be physically still at the same time we are encouraging our minds to unlock from the humdrum rational thinking of our daytime lives. You can train your waking mind to sleep creatively and work out the vividly imagined waking dreams which are successful works of fiction.”

The above quote put a lot of things into perspective for me. I had never thought of writing like dreaming, but really, that is what it is. I have a desk that was meant for writing, but is actually for everything now. Eating, chatting with friends, surfing the web, and writing. It is very far from distraction-free. I also just write “when I feel like it,” which means that sometimes I have months-long or years-long dry spells. And that’s nothing but a shame. 

So now I’m looking at getting another smaller, simpler desk to put in my bedroom, upon which I’ll put a tablet with no internet connection and a wireless keyboard. Maybe a notepad. Maybe. I’m not much of a note-taker. But I’ll put that in my bedroom, which really has just a bed and clothes, not even a clock, and I’ll push myself to write more every day, right there, from 8 pm to 10 pm. 

Source: King, Stephen. On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft. Hodder, 2012.

[aliceslantern]

Give/Take, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 2

Ienzo has been too busy since the war to be overwhelmed by the past. But with little progress to be made in his work with Kairi, old nightmares start to invade.

Riku is a glorified housesitter. Lonely and faced with no choice but to wait for a way to find his friends, he eagerly accepts when Ienzo asks him to help do repairs around the castle. Before long, the two strike up an unlikely friendship, united by their dark pasts and their attempts to be better people.

But just as they begin to consider something more... Kairi wakes up.

Ienzoku (Ienzo/Riku), post-Melody of Memory, slow burn. Updates Thursdays until it's done.

Chapter summary:  Ienzo and Ansem have an honest conversation about his time as Zexion. Riku is restless.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

Ienzo thought often about sleep. Most of his days were preoccupied with sleep, and hearts, and trying to remember what he had studied years ago. In the intervening years in the Organization, he had cared less about hearts and more about Kingdom Hearts.

Hearts. Sleep. Old men passive-aggressively jabbing at each other.

His hands were on the keyboard, and he saw code slowly and steadily ticking in. Code he should subsequently be de coding. But he… felt…

Ansem’s hand on his shoulder startled him, making him gasp aloud like a startled animal. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Ienzo shook the fuzz out of his eyes, his heart still pounding in his chest, adrenaline making him shaky. All of these human reactions were so sensorily intense . “It’s… it’s alright. I was the one far away.”

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” He stood, feeling woozy. “I’m…” He pressed two fingers to his brow, trying to hide the dizziness.

“How long have you been here?” Ansem asked softly.

Ienzo blinked, and realized, “I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you go get some rest?”

“I don’t need rest, I need to keep working through this.” He scowled. “It doesn’t help that my memory of coding is hazy at best--”

“Then why don’t you let me help you? I can give you a refresher on the basics.” He smiled kindly, and Ienzo felt an unexpected stab of memory--sitting as a small child on Ansem’s lap as he taught him the very basics of HTML, his eyes gleaming with pride at Ienzo’s first project (a page that simply said “HELLO!”).

But then, equally… his eyes flicked over to the closed door to the lab, the one he’d begged Ansem to finalize. And he was reminded for the millionth time that this was his fault.

“Would that help?” Ansem prompted.

He shook his head to dismiss the memories. “Yes. Yes, that would be prudent.”

“When was the last time you slept?” Ansem asked.

“I’m fine.”

He frowned.

“Really. I’m fine.”

There was a pause. Ansem knotted his hands together. “Naminé once told me that Nobodies do not need sleep. Is that true?”

Ienzo’s eyebrows shot up. Ansem hadn’t brought up the reality of their pasts--namely, the ten years he and Even had been Nobodies. “Yes, it’s true,” he said. “One physiologically can , of course, but it is not necessary to live.”

Ansem pursed his lips. “Does it feel… odd, to return to those needs, then?”

Ienzo considered, woozily. “Yes, it does,” he admitted. “I feel like I’m losing a lot of time from my day.”

He opened his mouth, closed it, then finally said, “do you like being human again?”

“Well, I had no say in the matter,” he said, “but it is… better than being the monster I was. I…” He rested his hand on his chest, feeling the pound of his heart. “I like having choice.”

Ansem smiled. “I’m sure you must.”

Ienzo exhaled. “I’ve done a great many awful things,” he said. “I wasn’t… a passive captive. Were it not for Saїx’s machinations, I likely would’ve been second in command. I… cared for their goals. I wanted it.”

Ansem cocked his head. “To be whole?”

“I don’t think so.” Ienzo squinted, trying to remember how it had felt to be Zexion. “In pursuit of… knowledge. Of growth of the Organization. I’m… I’m sorry.” Guilt hardened into a sour seed in his stomach, making him nauseous. “I’m so sorry.”

Ansem digested this, his eyes going somewhere distant and sad. “It says a lot about who you truly are, that the moment you were whole again, you chose the path of light,” he said gently.

“It does not feel that way.”

“I’m sure,” he said. “But we’ve all done things we regret. There’s no changing the past, as paltry as that sounds. Helping Kairi, and ergo, Sora and Riku… is a good first step.”

“I’m not sure it will ever be enough.”

“You can’t help how you grew up,” Ansem said. “In darkness, in nothing, manipulated, I’m sure, by them. You were just a boy. You said so yourself. How old were you, Ienzo?”

“Just shy of nine,” he said, not wanting to make eye contact.

“Precisely. A brilliant child… but still a child.”

“But what of--when I grew older? When I should have known better?”

Ansem squeezed his shoulder a second time. “By then you already believed.”

“I’m not innocent. I… the things I’ve done…” He exhaled. “I cannot simply absolve myself of guilt. I… I don’t want to.”

“I do hope that someday you can forgive yourself,” Ansem said. “You’re too young to live with such a heavy heart.”

“I think it is earned,” Ienzo said.

Ansem sighed.

“I’m going to go try to sleep for a few hours,” he said. “I’m sorry to leave this all in your lap.”

“It’s quite alright. I don’t mind.”

Ienzo wasn’t sure what else to say, so he started walking back to his room. He thought about what Ansem had said. His heart did feel heavy--quite literally. But how could he just… move on and have a normal life after everything he’d done? He didn’t know of anyone who’d messed up as colossally as he had. Wouldn’t it be wrong ? Masturbatory, so to speak? Where was his karmic payback? Why had he gotten this wholeness so many craved so dearly? He didn’t even want --

There had to be some way to silence the noise in his head.

Ienzo took a quick shower, put on some pajamas, and climbed into bed. His bedroom felt more cluttered and cramped than he remembered, the window by his double bed drafty. The overburdened bookcase was packed two and three deep, the rolltop desk flooded with yet more papers. He should clean and organize, remove the very last of his childhood things; there was still kid’s clothing in some of his dresser’s drawers.

His mind was swimming hopelessly with memories of the Organization’s plans to take down worlds--

Somehow, Ienzo fell into a restless sleep.

He recognized this dream, this nightmare. The tight, dark corners of the basement of Castle Oblivion. A redheaded demon, a boy in a black-and purple jumpsuit. A sharp glove at his throat, the tight heat of darkness swallowing him, and he couldn’t breathe couldn’t breathe--

Ienzo sat up. Slowly. He touched the scar at the base of his throat, thick and ridged. It was the darkness, not the replica’s sharp gloves, that had left this mark on him. Tears burned his eyes. He felt pathetic, weak, for being in the grip of this memory. It was over with. It was the least of what he’d deserved.

Human.

He thought of the dizzy spin of those first few moments after he’d woken, on the cold lab floor, bleeding from the marks around his throat. How the swelling had made it feel like he couldn’t breathe, still, how everything felt like it was echoing loudly around him, his heart like a weight in his chest. Trying to push himself up, seeing Even and Dilan’s brutalized forms, Aeleus trying not to show how much pain he, too, was in. Being the least injured, it had been up to Ienzo to try and tend to their wounds. At least he’d had the foresight to study medicine in the Organization.

And truthfully, even though it had been nearly two months back in this body, with this heart, Ienzo… still was not used to humanity, the pulse and pound of unexpected emotions. Once he couldn’t get open a jar of peanut butter for his breakfast toast and the anger he felt when he struggled was so overwhelming he’d just thrown the damn thing. But more than anything he felt a guilt so thick it was like lead, and an anxiety he could never fully set this right.

He looked at the clock. He’d slept about five hours, which he supposed after that nightmare was all he’d get. He was feeling nauseous and achy again, shaky with low blood sugar. So much time I must spend doing maintenance on this body. It seemed almost like a waste.

But he needed to stay alive. To help, to atone.

Ienzo got up and went to the kitchen.

---

Riku couldn’t take the silence anymore. It was almost making him jumpy, and after so long without human interaction, he thought he was starting to hear sounds that weren’t there. The dizzy nightmares of that city didn't help. He wondered if he should tell Ienzo and the others about it; but every time he tried to remember fine details, all he could recall was the deep blue color of the sky. Not helpful.

If not for the gummiphone, Riku would’ve lost track of time, too. Ienzo had told him how to use it, but he still struggled a bit with the interface. But, he figured, if Sora , who had nearly failed their high school computer literacy course, could grasp it, so could he.

Sora.

Riku felt something like a stab of pain. It felt like it had been a long time since he’d seen him, since they’d gotten to do more than chat for a few minutes. Kairi, too, he’d barely gotten to speak with at the beach during their brief victory party. At least he knew she was--physically--okay.

He felt so… alone.

He took a deep breath in and let it out, slowly. I’m not alone, he forced himself to think. Even if it feels that way. Our hearts are connected.

That didn’t make the silence any less piercing.

Riku got up. He had to go get some laundry, make himself something to eat. At least this was something he could do.

He wondered if it were too soon to go back to Radiant Garden. He knew Ienzo said he’d call the moment something came up, but maybe Cid had something new, or maybe there were even some Heartless to fight. Something. Someone.

“Oh god, I’m losing my mind,” he said out loud. He took out the gummiphone and looked down at its screen. It was still set to the generic background it came with, mostly because he didn’t know how to change it. With clumsy thumbs, he opened the text messaging app and started to write. The keyboard felt awkward in his hands.

Mickey,

I hope your journey with Donald and Goofy is going well. I’m guessing it must be good to spend time with them again. How’s the Queen?

I’ve been staying in the Land of Departure. Terra asked me to, but I think it’s partially because he wanted me to feel like I had an official duty as a Keyblade master. Mostly it’s just housesitting. If you ever have time, you three should come by. It’s a lot prettier than Castle Oblivion. It feels more alive.

The Radiant Garden guys are still hard at work studying Kairi’s heart, so she’s been asleep. They warned me it might take a long time. I still wish there was something I could do, but the power of waking won’t help in this case. So they say, anyway. I don’t really understand it fully myself.

If there’s anything I can do to make your journey any easier, let me know. Take care of yourselves out there.

--Riku

This written, it didn’t make Riku feel any less alone. More like he was speaking out into nowhere. He went and finished his chores, worked out for a little while. When he came back there was a response.

Howdy Riku!

Great to hear from ya! The Queen and Daisy are both doing great. We actually got to talk to them last night--love these nifty gadgets! If only we’d had them years ago… can you thank Ienzo for them the next time you see him? Chip and Dale also say hello to you both.

So far we’re doing our best to find more information about Sora, but so far there are no leads that I can tell, anyway, and you know how sharp Goofy is looking for these things. This all got so complicated… but I have hope that we’ll all be together soon!

I hope you’re not getting too stir crazy up in there. If you like, the Queen says you’re welcome to visit any time. And if we’re in the area I’m sure we’ll drop by! I hope staying there isn’t too hard on you.

Thanks for writing! Speak soon.

--Mickey.

Riku exhaled. He was positive he was reading too much into the tone of the letter. Mickey was never condescending towards him. Every word he’d written, he’d meant.

Maybe Riku should get out of here. He could thank Ienzo, for one thing, maybe help with some Heartless there, or the restoration committee was always working on some project or another. Get his hands dirty, like the work he used to do on the play island--

He was used to the accompanying stab of pain he got when he thought of them, but it didn’t make it any easier. Yes. Riku very much needed to get out of here.

---

It was raining in Radiant Garden when Riku got in. It washed away the rest of the gel in his hair, making it fall hopelessly into his eyes, and he kept trying to blow it out of his face. The haircut had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, something to get rid of that old self, but this current in-between length was unbearable. He didn’t want to think about spikes or spiky hair. (The fact that he’d run out of hair gel was also besides the point.) He wandered the streets for a time. Just seeing other people was nice, made him remember he was real.

The slope up to the entrance of the castle was muddy in the deluge. At least I’ll have an excuse to do laundry when I get back, he thought. One of the guards--he didn’t remember their names yet, and decided he really should--waved him in. “Try not to track mud all over the place,” he said, rolling his eyes.

Riku washed off his shoes with a water spell and kept walking. The place was always dank and damp in the best of circumstances, but today it was downright cold. He shivered and wished he knew air magic, something to dry himself off. Oh well. He’d had worse recently than being a little cold and wet.

The path up to the lab was very much familiar now. He saw places where the people here were trying to repair all the structural issues; the moldy carpeting torn up, the fallen pipes cleared away. The circular office before the lab had been cleaned up too; the bits of broken glass were finally gone.

Riku saw them before they saw him. He observed them for a few minutes, in their long white coats and oddly formal scarves. He tried not to audibly shiver, his hair sending droplets onto the floor.

“All looks… very much ordinary , from what we’ve been able to decipher,” the one formerly known as Vexen was saying. “Would help if I could understand your shorthand.”

Riku saw a scowl cross Ienzo’s face, the first mean expression he’d seen on the young man since they’d met again. He thought of Zexion, all claws and cruelness and teeth. “My shorthand is up-to-date. It’s not my fault your knowledge of coding has fallen by the wayside.”

“Boy, I have more important things to do--”

“Like what? Is this not our priority?”

“ She is our priority. Keeping up with some language is not.”

“Your sniping does not help either,” Ansem the Wise added. He went over to the console computer, punched some things in, and shook his head. “Though I agree with Ienzo that we should all at the very least be on the same page.”

Ienzo’s smirk became a hesitant smile.

Then, “I think we can all use a crash course.”

The smile became a scowl again. Riku chuckled despite himself. So the politeness was partially an act. Good to know. He crossed over into the hallway, letting his footsteps make more noise than earlier. Their heads snapped up; Even seemed to struggle to get his expression to be neutral, while Ansem offered a kindly smile. Ienzo’s face simply went blank, and Riku felt an odd surge of jealousy for his control over his emotion. “Oh, hello, Riku. We weren’t expecting you,” he said.

“I’m sorry just to drop by like this,” he said, feeling a blush color his face. “But I was wondering if--” Seeing their faces fall just slightly, “there’s… no news, is there?”

Ienzo took a few steps closer to him. He always seemed to be a little… cautious, in the way he moved around Riku. Could this really be about the bad blood in their past? “I’m very sorry, but no. No significant change.”

He glanced over towards Kairi, still fast asleep in the chair. He noted that at least they’d given her a blanket. “How’s she doing?”

“She’s being kept very comfortable, I assure you,” Ienzo said. “Neurological functioning is the way it should be.”

He crossed his arms, trying to suppress the shivering; it was even colder in here. “Could I… can I go up to her? It won’t interrupt anything, will it?”

Ienzo shook his head. “She’s too deeply asleep to be disturbed by our voices. Though perhaps--” Looking him over and wrinkling his nose. “You might like a towel?”

Riku looked at his palms. His wrist braces were awkwardly wet, and he knew they’d take hours to dry out. “Sorry. It’s, uh, raining.”

He nodded. “Come with me.”

He followed Ienzo. He was only the slightest bit taller than Riku now, but his strides seemed long, quick and precise, the white coat flaring out. “If you’d like, I can get you something dry to wear,” he said. “We’re probably about the same size.”

The idea of dry clothes was appealing, but the idea of wearing something of Ienzo’s made him feel, well, pretty weird. “No, that’s okay, thanks,” he said. “I’m probably gonna head out before too long anyway.”

“I imagine you must be quite busy.” Ienzo opened a door to a very average linen closet and pulled out a white towel. Riku did feel much better with it around his shoulders.

He just shrugged in response. They started walking back.

“If you’re worried about her health, she’s in quite good hands,” Ienzo said. “I… understand why you might be hesitant.”

“It’s… not that.” Not entirely. “I just…”

“Worry about your friends?” Ienzo prompted. “I can imagine. Yes, it’s been… a rather tectonic year or so.”

“We’ve all been separated on and off since our world fell,” he said, feeling a stab of guilt. “Though that was… kind of my fault. Not kind of. It was .”

Ienzo’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that so?”

“I know, I know. Some hero, right?” he forced himself to laugh.

“I… know that feeling exactly.” Ienzo cleared his throat. “Were it not for all we’ve done here… well.” He sighed. “We cannot… change the past. Not without a lot of nonsense.”

Riku smiled a little despite the heaviness of the conversation. “It almost feels… fake, how all this happened. When I heard about the… vessels, and the time travel, I was just like… are you kidding me? ”

Ienzo chuckled. “I think we all had that reaction. Even I cannot comprehend what exactly he was planning to do--and I was part of some of it.”

Riku thought about that laugh for a moment, how different it sounded than Zexion’s. More human, softer. Then again, the boy next to him was human. Trying to be better. Aren’t we all, he thought, wryly.

Back in the lab, he crossed over to Kairi and took her hand, hoping his wasn’t too cold. Her breathing was deep and even, and she looked peaceful. He wondered if she actually felt that way, what the “examination” made her feel. He almost asked, but Ansem and Even seemed to be deep into some conversation he couldn’t understand, and Ienzo seemed distracted, his brows furrowed. “So, uh,” he began slowly. “How’s the Heartless population around here?”

He looked up, startled. “The claymore defense system manages it quite well,” he said, with a touch of defensiveness. “Though I guess there might be a few hanging around the edges of town.”

“Gotcha,” he said. “Well. I’m going to go check in with the committee. But before I go. Um. The King said thank you for the gummiphone. And that Chip and Dale said hello.”

“Of course,” he said, his expression again quite neutral. “That was kind of them.”

Riku took off his damp towel and folded it. He left the castle and went back out into the rain. If anything, the deluge had gotten heavier, to the point where his left wrist (which had never quite healed correctly) was throbbing. Ienzo had been right about the Heartless; the few ones in the center of town were easily dispatched without him even having to draw his Keyblade. Riku found himself scowling. Logically, he knew that the system was fantastic for the civilians here. But it took from him the only thing he could do to be of use. As it grew darker, he wandered farther and farther into the fissures surrounding town, where he finally found something worth fighting.

He tried to vent his frustration into these Heartless, especially at his own uselessness. He was a Keyblade master , and all he could do was beat up a few mooks, was wait around for things to happen. He hated feeling like this; it was so like the old days on the island. At least this time he wouldn’t do something so off-the-walls stupid like let a creep in a robe persuade him to do what they wanted.

No, instead he was fighting Heartless. Alone. In the rain.

By the time he’d fought the last one in the vicinity, it was dark, and he could no longer suppress the shaking. “Idiot,” he said out loud. The clothes might protect him from darkness, but they wouldn’t protect him from the common cold. He should go back to the Land of Departure, take a hot bath, make himself some soup, and go to bed.

Riku went deeper into the fissures.

[yellowmagicalgirl]

utter my love when it counted

Hello, @astartlinglackofpotential! I’m your Secret Santa, delivering you the Steli fic you asked for! I hope you like it.

…yes, I used the Hozier lyric title generator

This takes place between “Creepslayerz” and “In the Hall of the Gumm Gumm King”. It contains mild injuries, Steve���s dad being an offscreen homophobe, and past bullying.

AO3 (if you have an AO3 account, please tell me and I’ll gift this fic to you on there)

FFN

“You look like a little kid in that,” Steve said.

Eli rolled his eyes. He was wearing one of Steve’s jerseys, because Eli had gotten stabbed by a creeper and a large portion of his own shirt had gotten blood on it. Steve had taken Eli to his house because, unlike Eli’s, it was empty becuse Coach had taken Steve’s mom on a date. Steve had bandaged the smaller Creepslayer, and then taken the shirt to wash with a small load of Steve’s own laundry so if his mom and Coach came home early they wouldn’t be suspicious. Eli hadn’t wanted to be shirtless, so he grabbed one of Steve’s jerseys, which almost came to his knees. It didn’t help that his hair and shoulders were somehow still damp from the rain. It was late spring, it shouldn’t have been raining, but perhaps the drought was finally ending.

“Quick question,” Eli asked.

“Quick answer: no, I don’t think I have anything that would fit you better.”

“That wasn’t what I was gonna ask. When did I ask for your opinion?”

It was funny to see just how many frowns Steve could make when he was trying to think of an answer other than, “No, Eli, you never asked my opinion and I’m being a buttsnack.”

“I mean, you asked my opinion when that creeper slashed me,” Steve said. Eli frowned, remembering the incident. He wondered if maybe they should start wearing jackets while Creepslaying. Black leather jackets would fit their uniform and protect them from both Vespa crashes and creepers, but Eli’s mom would get mad at him for wearing one. Then again, she was already annoyed that he riding a Vespa at all. Protection would make her happier.

“You asked if I should go to the hospital,” Steve continued.

“I suggested that you go to the hospital. And you refused.”

“Yeah, because Lake’s mom works there; she’d tell him about us. Besides, you got stabbed. Shouldn’t you be the one getting checked out?”

“Jim’s mom might not know; I didn’t tell my mom about us. Besides, there was more blood when you got cut.”

“Yeah, well, I’m bigger so I can lose more blood than you and stay healthy. Also, you didn’t tell your mom because you’re cool, Pepperbabe. Lake, though, I bet he told his mom on day one of having the armor and stuff. Besides, he has those creeper’s in his basement. How’d he get them in there without her noticing?”

“You do have a poin… wait. What did you call me?”

Steve’s eyes darted about the room. “What do you think I called you?”

“Pepperbabe.”

“Oh, uh… promise you won’t make fun of me or anything?” Steve asked in a small voice, eyes darting for an escape.

“I promise.”

“Okay.” Steve took a deep breath, and then another. “I…” Steve looked away, and when he looked back at Eli his gaze was scared and intense. “I have a crush on you.”

Eli blinked. While that wasn’t what he had been expecting, it honestly made more sense than anything else, given the “babe” part. Though, it made Eli feel a little uncomfortable, like he had in third grade when his teacher told Bekki Watkins that the reason Donovan Lum pulled on her pigtails was because Donovan apparently had a crush on Bekki.

“How long?” Eli asked, trying to keep the suspicion out of his voice. As uncomfortable as he was, Steve looked infinitely more so. Eli wondered if it had something to do with Steve’s dad, but he wouldn’t ask.

Steve blinked. “What?”

“How long have you had a crush on me?”

“Since I saw you waving around that medieval weapon the night of our first mission together.”

“Oh.” That made Eli feel much better.

“This… this isn’t going to change things between us, right?”

“Not unless you want it to. I mean, I had a crush on you the start of freshman year.”

“What happened, to make you not have a crush on me? Since, y’know, you said had.”

“You shoved me in a locker.”

“Oh… right. I’m sorry about that, I was a real buttsnack for shoving you in there.”

“Thanks for apologizing. And, I guess that crush had never really gone away, or maybe it did, and then came back, since you went from ‘tall guy with nice hair’ to ‘Steve, who bullies me’ to ‘Steve, who’d protect me in an instant but still is a buttsnack to me at school so we can keep our cover’. So, yeah. If you want to stay just friends, that’s fine with me, but I also wouldn’t mind being more than friends and Creepslaying partners.”

“I’d like that. The second version, that is.”

The alarm on the washing machine went off.

[let-it-raines]

Not Your (soul)Mate {10/15}

Killian Jones doesn’t like the idea of soulmates. He sees how happy his friends are with theirs, but he still doesn’t like the idea, not when he’s found love and lost it time and time again only to still not know his sign. He has no markings on his skin, no voices in his head, but then one day he meets Emma Swan and everything changes. Because, well, he may not have ink on his skin to tell him who to love, but the very first time that he hears Emma’s voice he knows that she’s the one for him. Then again, that could simply be his desire talking. After all, for every word she speaks, he becomes aroused.

It’s not the worst thing in the world to be incredibly attracted to a beautiful woman, but things aren’t that simple when she doesn’t have any interest in being his soulmate.

He’s screwed. And not in the good way.

Rating: Mature

A/n: Will my posting schedule ever make sense? Probably not. Anyways, thanks for reading, my pals! You guys are the best, and I love love love you all for loving this story and these two crazy people💜

Thank you to @captainsjedi for her love and support and artwork!

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

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Tag list:  @initiala @snowbellewells @karenfrommisthaven @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl @emmas-storybook @searchingwardrobes @spartanguard @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @dreameronarooftop15 @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @xellewoods @thejollyroger-writer @galaxyzxstark @cssns

-/-

No part of her understands why their cable bill is mailed to her. They’re a cable company. They provide TV and internet and yet they’ve never heard of paperless online billing. It’s ridiculous. And yet the minute she’s late with her payment she gets an increasingly nasty series of emails that shows they obviously know how to use the internet. And since Storybrooke Cable is the only company that provides internet in a sixty-mile radius, it’s not like they don’t have the funds to set up a website. Hell, she’ll take a class and learn how to program the website for them if she has to.

Well, probably not. That’s all a little dramatic, but she really hates having to go down to the mailboxes in the basement to get her mail so that she can go upstairs and write a check and buy a stamp to mail the payment in. It’s not the biggest deal in the world, but she hates it.

She obviously would not have lasted in a world without internet.

The old stairs creak beneath her, a sound that she’s used to when she’s carrying her laundry downstairs (it’s how she knows when she’s on the unsteady step since usually she can’t see over the full height of her clothes which is what procrastination gets her), and she quickly descends downstairs to the row of mailboxes that rest against the wall in front of the washing machines and dryers that work at least ninety percent of the time.

She and Belle need to move to a nicer place. They can afford it, but then again, if Belle moves, it’ll probably be with Will. It’s a constant thought every time Emma thinks about it, so she never quite works up the courage to bring up moving somewhere else. This place is just fine, they’ve made it their home, and so what if she has to walk to a bit of a creepy place to get her mail to pay her cable bill. It’s not like anyone in this town is actually going to do something to her.

They’d have hell to pay.

The stairs could use a little work, though, maybe a few new light fixtures for the hallways too.

Pulling out her key, she twists it in her box, opening it and grabbing the few envelopes that lay flat against the metal. She closes the box, locking it back up, and as she walks up the stairs, she shuffles through the mail, tripping on a loose board as she sees neat black script inked across the white in the upper left corner.

Killian Jones.

What the hell?

What the hell is he doing sending her a letter? Even though her toe is still stinging from how she jammed it, the pain worse than some of her injuries she’s gotten on the job, she stops in the middle of the staircase and rips the letter open.

Dear Emma Swan,

You’ll have to forgive me because it’s been awhile since I’ve written a letter that’s not an e-mail. I’ve been told by a rather reliable source that it’s a bit old-fashioned to write like this, but I do like a bit of a challenge. So, Swan, I’m sitting at my desk writing you a letter on stationary that Ariel found me and with my very favorite pen. And while I don’t expect you to write back, I have included several stamps to encourage you. You wouldn’t want me to waste money, now would you?

Anyways, I find myself wondering about you because you intrigue me. There are things I’d like to know. For instance, how long have you been a secret nerd watching the History Channel and National Geographic? I, for one, have been a fan for years. It’s fascinating to learn about things that have happened in the past. What other interests do you have? Do you enjoy sports? Read any good books lately? What is your ultimate favorite baked good? Do you like cooking them yourself? Are you one of those people who have a favorite flower? I am partial to sunflowers over roses, preferring the brightness of yellow, but then again, there are yellow roses.

I’m simply but a curious man who enjoys knowing the answers to my questions, and in return, you can feel free to ask me anything you want. I’d even tell you what kind of underwear I wear since you seem to be averse to answering that particular question.

Sincerely,

Killian A. Jones

“Oh my God,” she mumbles, scanning over the words one more time before opening up the envelope to see several stamps with pictures of sailboats on them.

A part of her absolutely cannot believe that he wrote her a freaking letter, but then again, she’s not really shocked. That’s exactly something that he would do just to annoy her, and the fact that he included stamps is really over the top. She’s not going to complain. She needs stamps, but damn, the man is persistent.

But she’s not going to write him back.

Absolutely not.

She folds his letter back up and puts it in the envelope before walking up the rest of the stairs and turning in the stairwell so she can get back to her floor, quickly moving into her apartment to write a check so she can send off the cable bill before she gets to work this morning. Belle is still sleeping, so she tries to stay quiet as she grabs her purse and walks right back out the door, all of her mail in the front pocket of her purse.

All day she ignores the letter that seems to be burning a hole through the leather material of her purse that’s hidden under her desk, but it’s more of an attempt at ignoring it than actually ignoring it, because when David leaves to go question a fight that broke out down by the pier, she grabs a piece of paper out of the printer and starts writing something back.

Damn it. Has she lost control of her limbs?

Jones,

You’re ridiculous. Seriously. I can’t believe you took our texts as a challenge, but then again, it is you. I have no idea why I’m writing you back, but you did say that I could ask you any question I want, and, well, I simply can’t pass up that opportunity.

So tell me, what is the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to you? And spare no detail.

Sincerely,

Emma Swan.

PS: I am a mean ping pong player, and I agree with you about the roses. If you’re looking for a good book recommendation, though, I suggest Belle. She gives me all of mine.

Oh, and bear claws.

And I want to know what the A in your name stands for.

Quickly, she stuffs the paper in an envelope, seals it, writes his address on it, places a stamp in the corner, and puts it in the mailbox outside of the station so that she literally can’t take it back without tampering with federal law. She’ll bend a lot of rules, but she’s not going to break federal law over something as dumb as a letter.

Two days later, she gets a letter back. There’s no formal address this time, and she kind of likes that…not that she likes this.

Really went straight for the kill then, eh Swan? It took me a bit to remember what exactly my most embarrassing memory is, simply because I’m so suave that I don’t have many embarrassing moments.

However, when I was a young lad of twenty-three, I had the night off and left base to go out to a pub with a few of my mates. This was something we did often, something we’d done for our five years together, but on this particular night I indulged in a few too many glasses of rum. My tolerance wasn’t quite what it is now, even if I do wake up feeling like I’ve been hit by a truck now, and while I don’t remember the night but in a few glances (particularly me telling the lasses that I was the Captain when I was not), I do remember waking up in the flat of a woman I didn’t know without my clothes anywhere in sight. Either she stole them, my mates somehow stole them, or something else happened, but my options to get home were either walking in the streets of Birkenhead in the nude or wearing this lass’s mother’s nightgown. It was this billowing, flowery thing, and while I fully believe I can wear anything I want, let’s just say my actual Captain did not take too kindly to me walking back onto base in something that was not approved. I was written up three times for one incident, and I’d just like you to imagine me having to explain why to my superiors why I was wearing a nightgown when I had no idea myself.

I have to say, though, nightgowns are quite comfortable. Lots of air to breathe. It’s likely a good thing that my mates thought it would be funny to buy me a nightgown when I was promoted. It was much more my taste. Silk is wonderful, though I don’t think I ever wore it. I much prefer my briefs.

So, there’s a story of one of the brightest moments of my youth, and while I’m sure you’ll somehow use it to torture me, it’s yours to know.

My middle name is, Andrew, by the way, and the lovely Belle has recommended me to The Guest Book as reading material. It’s rather good. Feel free to borrow my copy if you’d like. Speaking of Belle, I hear Mr. French makes rather delectable bear claws, but he’s in a fierce rivalry with Mrs. Lucas over who makes the best. Personally, I think they’re using pastries as a bit of foreplay, but that’s simply a theory from an observer.

Now, Swan, I’ve metaphorically shown you mine, so you should show me yours.

Have a good week,

Killian Andrew Jones.

Emma doesn’t realize it, but by the time she’s finished reading the letter, she’s got tears streaming down her face, just a few of them, from laughing at the thought of Killian running around in a nightgown. That’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard, but for some reason, she has no issue imagining him walking into base in a flowery nightgown that hits at his knees and shows off all of the hair on his legs with the shoulders being a little tight. It’s ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous, and she’s glad that Belle is still at the library so that she doesn’t ask what in the world Emma is laughing at.

It would be a little hard to explain.

Well, not really, but she doesn’t want to explain. Because her explaining any of this would make her have to explain other things, and since Belle already knows that Killian sent her the basket of baked goods months ago. So it would be too difficult to explain her...having to explain. This is kind of like some sort of bad inception.

But Belle’s not even here, so it definitely doesn’t matter.

While she’s still laughing, she gets up from the table and heads to the kitchen, grabbing a wine glass out of the cabinets and pouring her a glass of the wine that she and Belle didn’t finish drinking last night. If she’s going to spend her time writing letters to Killian, which is a ridiculous concept in and of itself, she should at least have some alcohol in her.

Not enough to make her have to wake up without clothes and have to borrow an ugly nightgown from the mother of the person she’d slept with but some alcohol all the same.

She doesn’t have any paper here, so she has to shuffle through some of the old notebooks Belle keeps on their bookshelves, and takes out a lined page from the back, settling down on the couch with her wine and paper and pin while Drain the Oceans plays on the TV.

Killian Andrew (Asshole) Jones,

I’ve added the “asshole” because I really did think that was your middle name. You did say you would respond to it, but I guess Andrew is okay. Is that a family name? Your father’s maybe? I don’t have a middle name, didn’t even have a last name, only my first, but I’ve always kind of thought it would be something classic since my first name is.

Shit. I just got wine on the paper. Oops.

So you and that rum, huh? You seem to be a fan of it. And also nightgowns. Are you sure you don’t sleep in one of those? Is that why you don’t have a girlfriend? You scare them all away with your nightgown. I imagine it makes easy access to...things, so really, they should like it better than the briefs. It’s just a great mystery that may never be solved.

Granny’s bear claws are better than Mr. French’s hands down, but Mr. French has better pastries overall. Plus, he’s like my dad, so you implying that they have a thing going on is really kind of freaking me out. I bet Granny wears a nightgown, though, which makes my earlier joke about easy access so much creepier.

Some things simply shouldn’t be imagined. But if you’re going to, make sure to tell Ruby to scar her for life.

I haven’t read that book, but if Belle recommends it, it must be good. I’ll have to check it out. I’ve been very into historical romances lately, which isn’t really on par for me, but there’s simply something about Jane Austen, you know?

Thanks for telling me your most embarrassing story. You’re right. I’m totally going to use that against you, and no, I will not tell you my most embarrassing story. It involves karaoke, though, so it’s a good one.

Emma

If she hadn’t had the wine, she probably would have realized that she revealed a bit too much in her letter, but after she seals it that night and sends it off in the morning, still using the sailboat stamps Killian provided, she doesn’t think about it.

Not at all.

What she does think about is the fact that eight days go by without a new letter. She didn’t even realize that she wanted another letter, that she got a weird sense of excitement over them, until she wasn’t receiving one in her mailbox.

Who has she turned into that she’s checking her mailbox daily?

What decade is this?

But her week has gone by as normal, spending her days at work, reveling in the hour break she gets to eat lunch with David or Ariel, and her evenings at home, sometimes with Belle, sometimes not. On Saturday she, Ruby, Belle, Mary Margaret, and Ariel all spent the day at the beach, waking up early enough to beat all of the tourists there, and settled down with blankets and umbrellas with bags full of food and a cooler full of drinks. They didn’t bother moving, not unless to dip into the ocean to cool themselves off or to run up to the pier to use the restroom, and even if her eyes constantly trailed down to the pier to look at the fleet of ships and boats and what not resting outside of the Jones’ office.

And if her eyes kept checking her texts even if most everyone she spoke to was already there, no one had to know. Though she does think that Ruby noticed.

She wasn’t very subtle in her desperation.

But she didn’t see him, not that she wanted to, and she tried to push it all to the back of her mind to enjoy the day as the sun beat down on her skin so that she got the slightest bit of a tan that she hopes stays with her until the fall.

Okay, so she thinks about the lack of a letter a lot.

However, she wasn’t thinking about it when she was driving home from work, but now that she’s standing next to the door of her apartment with Will holding a stack of their mail, it’s all she can think about.

Shit.

Why didn’t it occur to her that she and Belle share a mailbox and that Belle could see one of these letters? How could she have missed that?

“Hey,” she cautiously greets, placing her keys down, the clanging loud in her ears, on the table and stepping further into the room, “I didn’t know you were coming over tonight.”

“Belle and I are going to dinner. Why do you have a letter from Jones?”

“Huh?” she asks, trying to keep her voice steady even though her heart is beating wildly in her chest, the sound louder than it has been in a long time. She can feel it all the way down to her toes. “I have a letter?”

Will raises his eyebrow, obviously not believing her, and as casually as she can, she steps forward and takes the letter from Will, stuffing it away in the back pocket of her jeans.

“So where are you guys going for dinner?” Emma asks to change the subject.

“Eric’s place. He gives me a discount.”

“Ah, yes, because everyone wants discount fish.”

“Oi, it’s not like he’s giving us the old fish.”

“So you think. If you guys die in a few days, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“We’ll be dead, and you’ll be bragging about it.”

“Exactly.” She steps around Will and sits down on the couch, reaching down to unlace her boots and kick them off. “I guess I’ll miss you.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Emma,” Belle shouts, and Emma leans her head back to look down the hall to see Belle standing in the hallway, “can I borrow those teal heels that you wore last week?”

“Yeah, they’re in my bathroom.”

Belle doesn’t say anything back, but less than a minute she comes into their living room wearing the teal heels and a little black dress, fluffing out her hair over her shoulders while Will grabs his coat off the chair, stepping up to her and kissing her cheek, whispering something that Emma doesn’t pick up on, which is good. It’s private, and she doesn’t need to hear things about their private life.

Her hearing thing has been wonky lately anyways. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t.

“We probably won’t be back until late,” Belle tells her, and Emma reaches her hand up over the couch to let Belle grab onto it. “Do you want me to bring you back anything?”

“Nah, you two go have fun. Don’t do anything that I’ll have to investigate.”

“Well, that just takes all of the fun away.”

After the two of them leave, she leans up on the couch and pulls the later out of her back pocket, hoping that Will forgets about it and doesn’t mention it to Belle, and quickly opens the sealed envelope, her nerves running over every inch of her skin and making her fingers shake the slightest bit as she straightens the creases out of the paper.

Emma,

I apologize for my late reply, but you seem to have caught me at a bad time. I had a client call and request a refurbishment on his seafaring vessel (his words, not mine), and I’ve been consumed with it. I love this job. It’s a way to keep me connected to the ocean, a place where I spent so much of my life, but this is different. And it certainly didn’t help that my wrist decided to act up a bit this week. It’s the weather and all.

Regardless, I do wish you would have told me your most embarrassing story. I feel like it’s a real ice breaker, and I love karaoke....if I’m drunk. But then again, bad things seem to happen when I’m drunk. So wine? That’s your vice? I always took you more as a tequila or whiskey type, but then again, I’m learning that I know very little about you, love. Though, I like that it’s changing a bit, if I may be so bold.

Jane Austen is bloody brilliant, and it’s nice to hear of someone else appreciating her. Mr. Darcy and I have a lot in common, you know? I, too, screw up with strong-willed women and then have to realize the error of my ways to have them allow me back into their lives. Or, at least, I hope. Tell me, if you’re a fan of historical romances, how are you not a fan of letter writing when that is such a core piece of the story? Is it simply that you don’t like modern day letter writing because it, for practical reasons, doesn’t make any sense? We could have had this entire conversation in ten minutes, but it’s taken eight days. Yet, this is a bit more fun, even though talking to you does incite other kinds of fun.

As to my middle name, it’s my mother’s maiden name. My father’s name is Brennan, and the only thing I carry from him is the Jones name, which is likely a good thing. He wasn’t a good man. He was a drunk, and he abandoned us when I was ten. I’m proud to be a Jones because of my brother and my mum, so like you, I suspect that my last name carries a weight that most don’t.  

Anyways, that’s much too much information about me. Tell me, Swan, there’s a Summer Regatta coming up in two weeks. Do you think you’ll be at the festival? I know someone who can get you a free ride on a boat.

Killian.

He’s got a screwed up family too.

That’s what she gets out of all of that. It’s not that he loves the same books that she does, not that he correctly guessed her drinking vices, not that he practically invited her to be his date to the regatta in over Labor Day weekend. It’s the fact that he has a screwed up family, a drunk deadbeat dad and a dead mom. She knew his family life wasn’t great, if only because Elsa never mentions having to take the kids to go see Liam’s parents.

Huh.

She can kind of see it now, can see that he is a bit of an orphan too, and even though he had parents, it breaks her heart. No one should ever have to grow up without having people love them, and she’s thankful that Killian had Liam and their mom. That’s a nice thing for them to have a family, even if it’s not what most people would call complete.

Maybe it’s the wine or maybe it’s the fact that she suddenly understands Killian in a way that she knows only a few people can, but she pulls out her phone and lets her fingers move without thinking about it too much.

Emma: So not a fan of karaoke then? Is your voice that bad?

The three dots pop up almost immediately after she presses send only for them to disappear, only coming back every few seconds. He’s either trying to think of what to say or realized that he’s texting back incredibly fast. It’s nice to know some things never change.

Killian: For someone who is incredibly attracted to my voice, that’s a bold thing for you to suggest.

Emma: Touché.

Emma: So it’s not bad then?

Killian: I’ve been told that it’s actually pretty good, but I find that karaoke does nothing but bring embarrassment unless you’ve been drinking all day.

Emma: Okay, but say you have…what’s your go-to song?

Kilian: Easy. Anything Elton John. He’s so easy to understand.

Emma: You’re kidding, right?

Killian: Nope.

He definitely has to be kidding.

Emma: I figured you’d be more of a Queen or Beatles guy. I’m pretty partial to Queen.

Killian: Well, I could do those too. Or pretty much anything from the eighties. I feel old, but I don’t know a lot of the new songs.

Emma: That’s because you are old.

Killian: Being older than you doesn’t make old. And as you can tell, I’ve retained my youthful glow.

Emma: Sure, we’ll call it that.

She takes another sip of her wine and turns the volume up a bit on the television so that she’s not simply staring at her phone waiting for him to text her back. That’d be pathetic. Then again, she’s sitting at home drinking wine and watching the History Channel while her roommate is out on a date. That could be considered pathetic. Or very, very smart depending on who is asked.

Killian: What are you up to tonight, love?

Emma: Watching Drain the Ocean, though I’ll be honest and say I have no idea what’s going on.

Emma: You?

Killian: The same, actually.

Emma: Creepy.

Killian: Believe it or not, I think we have similar taste in television shows.

Emma: Ugh, I know. I can’t believe I have so much in common with an old man.

Killian: If you keep flattering a man like this, he might get the impression that you like him.

Emma: Never.

Emma: At least we don’t like the same foods. Unless you secretly like junk food.

Killian: I enjoy certain kinds, but I don’t think I have the same propensity for grilled cheese, onion rings, and bear claws like you do.

Emma: I also like poptarts and brownies. Oooh and lots of icing.

Killian: You’re a child.

Emma: Oh, come on. You don’t like icing?

Killian: If there’s cake attached, yeah.

Emma: No, no. You’ve got this all wrong. Straight out of the can.

Killian: You also eat raw cookie dough, don’t you?

Emma: Duh.

Killian: I do like cookies, though. And mostly pastries that involve fruit. It makes it all feel a little healthier.

Emma: You’re in shape. I think you’ve got the healthy thing down.

Killian: I knew you liked staring at my ass.

Emma: I said nothing about your ass.

Killian: Just my general body then? The abs? The biceps? My collarbone? What about my left ankle? You’re into period romances. I bet the left ankle really does it for you.

“Oh my God,” she mutters to herself, putting her glass down on the coffee table and standing from the couch, smiling to herself as she reads the message and walks to the kitchen. He’s such an idiot.

Such an idiot.

And now she really wants something sweet to eat, so she presses up on her toes and gets a can of chocolate icing out of the pantry popping open the top and grabbing a spoon out of the drawer so she can at least be a little civilized about the whole thing. Without putting much thought into it, she holds the spoon full of icing up to her mouth and takes a quick picture, not checking to see what she looks like before sending it to Killian.

Emma: See? This is the way to eat sweets.

The three dots pop up before they disappear just like before, and she doesn’t really have time to think about it before the front door is swinging open and Belle is walking inside, an obviously bright red flush on her pale cheeks.

“I’m engaged,” she squeals, holding her left hand up as she walks into the apartment, a small diamond ring resting there.

“What?” Emma gasps, nearly choking on her icing before she puts the spoon and the container down, running her tongue over her teeth to wipe up all of the excess icing. “You’re engaged?”

“Yes! Will asked at dinner. Oh my gosh. You know, I always swore I wouldn’t be one of those girls, but I did the thing where I put my hands over my mouth when he got down on one knee.”

“Of course you did,” she laughs, reaching forward and wrapping Belle up in a hug, squeezing her as tightly as she can while she sees Will walk into the apartment, bags of takeout in his hands and a smile on his face that tells Emma he’s just as happy as Belle is. Good. They deserve all of the happiness. “I’m so damn happy for you. Both of you.”

“And you’ll be so much happier when you know that I brought you earplugs for tonight,” Will tells her when she hugs him.

“That is so gross.”

“I’m simply trying to be helpful.”

“Babe,” Belle laughs, walking over to the two of them and leaning into Will to press a kiss into his cheek, “stop grossing Emma out and give me five minutes to tell her what happened before we can let her put the earplugs into use.”

“Nope, nope, no,” she refuses, putting her hands in the air, “you guys just go. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Perfect.”

“Please ignore him.”

“I promise you I’m trying.”

Will and Belle go back to their room, and she takes the opportunity to grab her phone, her icing, and plant herself in front of the television, turning to volume up so that she doesn’t have to risk hearing anything else. Tonight will probably be the night that her weird hearing thing picks up again.

She is so damn happy for the two of them, a bit of a buzz of happiness spreading over her skin, but she can’t help the little voice in her head that wonders what’s next for her if the two of them are getting married.

She hates that she thinks that.

Her phone dings, and she looks down at it, forgetting that she was texting Killian before Belle and Will came home.

How long were they texting for her friends to get engaged during that time? That’s…a lot of time. Did it really all go by that quickly? She didn’t even notice.

Killian: I mean, there’s definitely something sweet in that picture that I’d like to eat.

Emma chuckles under her breath, unable to help herself, especially when accompanying the text is a picture of him holding a banana over half of his face, the scars on his wrist and the chain around his neck visible even in the dimness of his apartment. And damn it. This was not supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to happen.

She likes Killian Jones. 

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH8

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

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Chapter 8: Resurrection Overture (VIII)

When Qi Leren arrived at Chen Baiqi's store, it was 20 minutes earlier than the appointed time. Chen Baiqi was chatting with a woman with her back to him. They both looked at Qi Leren in the doorway, and Qi Leren also looked at the woman.　

That person was a very gorgeous and charming beauty, wearing a gorgeous and complicated low-cut witch's dress and a European top hat. Although her whole person was dressed in dark colours, it made her skin more white, and her bright red lipstick and smokey eye makeup were particularly attractive. When he noticed this, Qi Leren first reviewed why he noticed his sister's makeup at first sight... Was it really a matter of sexual orientation?

"Since you have a guest, I'll take a walk first. I'm tired from the task I just finished. Let's talk about it another day." The beautiful woman smiled at Qi Leren, picked up the women's walking stick at the table, and walked out of Chen Baiqi's shop gracefully.

"Who was that?" Qi Leren asked.

"The Illusionist," Chen Baiqi said.

Qi Leren suddenly remembered that the Court’s Miao Li had mentioned during his dream lessons that the Illusionist had helped cover up his tombstones on the Undead Island in order to hide them from the Slaughter Secret Society. Was it that beautiful woman just now?

"Have you had breakfast?" Chen Baiqi asked him.

Qi Leren nodded: "I’m full."

Chen Baiqi smiled meaningfully: "Don't eat too much next time, lest you throw up."

"..." Qi Leren felt that his future was grim.

"Although we’ve known each other for some time, I’ve never introduced myself properly. Since you will train with me from today, I will introduce myself again. Come with me. " Chen Baiqi led Qi Leren inside. Qi Leren had never been to the back part of the store. When he found that there was a basement with several floors, he couldn't help crying deeply for his future self.

"I used to be the executive officer of the Trial’s Heresy Court. I was mainly responsible for executing the Devil worshippers. Later, because of an injury, I could no longer continue such a high-intensity and dangerous job, so I retired early. Now I’m half an insider who does intelligence." The elevator stopped on the third basement floor and Chen Baiqi led Qi Leren out. The third basement floor was as big as a basketball court. The ground was made of concrete, without any obstacles, and it was scary.

Qi Leren wasn’t very surprised. He had always felt that Chen Baiqi was familiar with the Trials Court. It was to be expected that all of the information she had was somehow related to them.

"In the Nightmare World, so many players have explored 'playing methods' about this 'game' for more than 20 years. Today, I will briefly talk about the 'professions'," Chen Baiqi said.

Qi Leren pricked up his ears and listened attentively.

"Players will receive a skill card when they are in the Novice Village. This skill card is not given randomly, and most players will eventually build their own fighting style around this skill card. That is to say, the original skill card has actually selected the appropriate profession for the player. Take your Novice Village as an example: Dr. Lu, who is with you, is obviously a healer, while Xue Yingying is obviously a berserker. As for you, because your basic skill card is very delicate, it's the first time I’ve heard of such a skill card, so it's hard to judge your basic profession. But it doesn't matter. Most of the skill cards that players get in tasks will follow a certain rule. For example, a healer rarely draws a berserker-type skill card when drawing their card. That is to say, the skill cards obtained in the future are actually based on what you receive as your first skill card. They build around this 'profession'."

Qi Leren suddenly realized: so the skill cards he got later, such as "Rain-Day Laundry", "Primary Fighting Skills", and "Devil Etiquette", including the latest one, "Secretly Observing", all emphasized his profession.

—Assassin.

"I only know some of your skill cards, but I can make a rough judgment about you. You’re an assassin." Chen Baiqi folded her arms and looked at him laughingly. "So congratulations, I’m in the same profession. However, even amongst assassins, they will be subdivided into different categories because of their different personality traits and abilities. After all, everyone's skill cards are different. If you trust me, you can tell me your existing skill cards, and I will not disclose it to others."

Qi Leren vaguely felt that Chen Baiqi would sincerely teach him, and that his answer was the key. Of course, he couldn’t say it. Chen Baiqi would still train him, but she would not give everything to him. Chen Baiqi was... Qi Leren's brain flashed. She was looking for a successor!

Yes, Chen Baiqi entered the game very early and she said it had been eight years, which meant that she was an old player with high strength and rich experience, but it also meant that her time wouldn't be much longer.

Chen Baiqi was optimistic about him and willing to teach him, which was only too important for a newcomer who was still groping for his footing shortly after entering the game, and Qi Leren was very grateful. He didn't think Chen Baiqi had any malice towards him. After all, the gap in strength between the two people was right in front of him. If Chen Baiqi wanted to, she could kill him.

After figuring this out, Qi Leren relayed his skill cards and even told her of his items.

Chen Baiqi said, "You are an assassin. You already have basic premonition skills, detection and latent skills, and even half a camouflage skill. Right now, you still lack a skill to escape and strengthen combat effectiveness—Primary Fighting Skills is too low, it takes too long to upgrade past the basic stage. You can sell it after you’ve been trained."

Qi Leren nodded, "I’ve felt an obvious lack in combat effectiveness. I have no effective means of attack, and often I can only take the same route."

This also led to his excessive dependence on S/L Data as his solution.

"Although skill cards are very good and greatly improve newcomers’ survival rate in this world, I don’t advocate relying too much on them. The Nightmare World is a surreal world. There are many things that we can't do in the real world that can be done here. It also has its own power system. If you want to integrate into this power system, relying too much on skill cards will only hinder you. To put it simply, if you want to become a field-level master, you must quit your skill cards," Chen Baiqi said seriously.

"When you say the power system, you mean the Devils and the Holy See?" Qi Leren asked.

"Yes. With our status as players, if you want to reach the field level, you’re bound to become close to one of them. Because you’ve been parasitized by Slaughter before, I originally thought that your attributes were more inclined to the Devils, but now it seems that maybe you’re more inclined to the side of divine power," Chen Baiqi said.

"How do you see it?" Qi Leren was puzzled.

Chen Baiqi's mouth crooked and she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they were already a pair of red eyes: "The holiness of your body has exceeded the standard. Maria gave you an important gift before she sent you back."

Qi Leren recalled the warm and comfortable feeling when the dotted light of endless faith had poured into his body, and nodded silently.

"In fact, in addition to these two power systems, there are many magical powers in the Nightmare World. For example, I seldom use investigation skill cards because I once learned the language of birds from an elder. Although I’m not very proficient, I have no problem with basic dialogue. You can imagine how desperate it is to meet me in a wild jungle. This is better than the ability of any reconnaissance skill card. After all, there is no cooldown."

Qi Leren imagined that if he had met such an opponent in the forest during the Witchcraft Sacrifice mission... The birds in the whole forest were her eyes. She could observe every enemy 24/7 without cooldown, avoid any danger she wanted to bypass, and set traps to deal with anyone she wanted to deal with. This was simply terrible.

"Well, with this said, I’ll now begin to test your abilities, including your physical quality, judgment, intuition, and so on. I’ll test your intuition first. If you want to be a good assassin, you can't do without phenomenal intuition. You stand there blindfolded, this won’t take more than a minute," Chen Baiqi commanded.

Qi Leren obediently went to the place she indicated and took the red cloth she handed him, tying it over his eyes. Suddenly, there was only a suppressed scarlet: "How do we test it?"

Chen Baiqi's voice floated from in front of him: "It's very simple. I'll throw some knives at you. You can dodge them with your intuition. I won't tell you when I throw them."

???

! ! !

This wasn’t a test, it was a threat on his life!

"Put away Rain-Day Laundry and only use S/L Data, or else you’ll really die," Chen Baiqi said with ease and pleasure.

"The Prophet told me to use it less," Qi Leren protested weakly.

"Oh, then you don't have to. I’ll try not to aim at anything vital," Chen Baiqi said.

"...Forget it, I'll use it." Qi Leren surrendered and thought he would use it just this once.

S/L Data was activated and the current position was set as the save point. Qi Leren looked at the red before his eyes and his heart beat fast with nervousness. He counted the seconds for S/L Data in his mind.

30, 29, 28...

Chen Baiqi didn't throw, she was walking—Qi Leren couldn't see her or hear her footsteps, but he had a strong feeling that Chen Baiqi was walking around him... She was on his left... Behind him...

Danger, danger, danger!

Clearly there was no warning, no noise, but Qi Leren's mind had already sounded the alarm. He quickly squatted without thinking and a slight wind flew over his head, cutting off two floating hairs.

"Eh? The response was good." Chen Baiqi's voice came from behind him. It was behind him!

Qi Leren stood up and continued to count the seconds: seventeen, sixteen, fifteen...

Under your feet!

Qi Leren suddenly jumped up, and the throwing knife shot obliquely downward and struck the ground with a tang.

Even though he wasn’t hit, Qi Leren still felt a dull pain in his feet, probably from jumping too fast and cramping.

"You’re really good." This time the voice came from above his head!

Qi Leren flung himself forward and rolled on the ground for three or four meters. There was a continuous sound of breathing behind him. Obviously, several throwing knives stabbed one after another—into the concrete ground, and he stopped breathing from nerves. In such a dark place, he directly evaded the ubiquitous fatal danger that made him feel on the verge of a breakdown.

When he stood up again, Qi Leren had forgotten to count the seconds and Chen Baiqi's voice came from ahead of himt: "Well, let's stop here for now."

Qi Leren breathed a sigh of relief and his whole person relaxed from his panicked state, stretching out his hand to untie the cloth over his eyes. When the cloth strip was torn off, there was no figure of Chen Baiqi in front of him—only a parrot standing on the ground and talking with Chen Baiqi's voice, which laughed at him: "Fool."

Qi Leren stood stiffly and a cold wind struck into his torso from behind, the knife piercing his heart. After 30 seconds, S/L Data successfully read the file.

The real Chen Baiqi came from behind Qi Leren with a cheerful demeanor: "This is the first lesson for you: never let off your guard down too early in the face of danger."

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