#been thinking about replaying her. now i extra want to

[killikhive]

me: man it sure would be interesting if my jedi knight who was born in the empire was also a child of the emperor. but I can't do that it's too close to kiras story arc

my brain: here's a bunch of lore things about or related to her that would make sense in this context and also think how fucking Well that would hit. it would work really well actually consider it

....

....

oh no

oh no it works really well

[novaursa]

The Flames We Carry

- Summary: Ser Criston Cole expected for Rhaenys and Meleys to appear over Rook's Rest. To Gwayne's horror, Rhaenyra sent her sister instead: you.

- Paring: targ!reader/Gwayne Hightower

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is Rhaeyra's younger sister and is bonded to Silverwing. These events happen after Skyfall. If you want to read all the parts in chronological order visit my blog, the list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+ (there is no adult content, but there are visual descriptions of violence, blood and gore)

- Word count: 3 712

- A/N: this was scheduled to be posted tomorrow, but I've decided post extra today. Enjoy.

- Tag(s): @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @sachaa-ff

Ser Gwayne Hightower had always been a man torn between loyalty and desire, but never more so than in the days leading up to the siege at Rook's Rest. The tension between him and Ser Criston Cole had grown sharper since that fateful day when he let you—the Princess, Y/N—slip through his grasp before their march on Duskendale. He could still feel the warmth of your skin against his, the taste of your lips lingering like a ghostly memory, a sweet torment. You had been his time and time again, even if only in stolen moments, and each encounter had deepened the scars on his heart.

Gwayne knew he should be focusing on the battle ahead, yet his thoughts strayed back to you, his mind replaying that night over and over. The look in your eyes when you realized he would let you go, when you understood the depth of his feelings despite all the bitterness that lingered between your Houses. He had set you free, knowing full well it was an act of treason in all but name, and yet he would do it again if it meant sparing you the horrors to come.

But now, at Rook's Rest, everything was escalating rapidly. Ser Criston's scorpion ballistas and archers were poised in ambush, waiting for the dragon they expected: Rhaenys on Meleys. The war council had been clear, and Gwayne had heard it all through gritted teeth—Aemond and Aegon would flank her on Vhagar and Sunfyre, trapping her in dragonfire and steel. It was a ruthless plan, one that made his stomach churn. He had sworn to protect his family, his king, and yet all he could think about was you.

The skies darkened, a shadow sweeping over the encampment. The men tensed, eyes raised to the heavens as the flap of wings grew louder. Gwayne’s heart pounded in his chest as he looked up, expecting the crimson scales of Meleys. But what he saw instead made his blood run cold.

Silverwing.

The graceful, silvery-grey dragon, once ridden by Queen Alysanne, now bonded to you. Gwayne’s heart twisted painfully in his chest. This was not supposed to happen. It was not supposed to be you in the skies above, facing down two monstrous dragons with only the loyal Silverwing at your side. Panic clawed at his throat, his mind racing. He could see it in Criston's eyes too—the slight widening, the realization that their ambush had just become a slaughter. Not for Rhaenys, but for you.

“No…” The word slipped from Gwayne’s lips before he could stop it. Without a second thought, he rushed toward the nearest scorpion, where soldiers prepared to take aim at Silverwing. His vision tunneled, anger and fear boiling together in his veins. He couldn’t let this happen—not to you.

"Stand down!" Gwayne shouted at the soldiers, shoving one aside with enough force to send the man sprawling. The crew looked at him in confusion, but Gwayne didn’t care. He grabbed hold of the crank, making it impossible for them to load the bolt.

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing?!” Criston’s voice was a venomous hiss as he stalked toward Gwayne, eyes blazing with fury. “You’re sabotaging the plan! Move, or I’ll have you—”

Gwayne spun around, his hand already on the hilt of his sword. “I won’t let you do this, Criston. Not to her.”

Criston’s lip curled in disgust. “Her? You would betray your king, your House, for a traitorous whore who—"

The sound of steel rang out as Gwayne drew his sword, slashing at the scorpion mechanism, rendering it useless. The soldiers scattered, unwilling to get caught in the confrontation between two knights who had both earned their deadly reputations. Criston’s eyes narrowed, and in the blink of an eye, his sword was in his hand, the tip leveled at Gwayne’s chest.

“You’ll die for this treachery, Hightower,” Criston spat, the words laced with venom.

“I would die a thousand times before I let you kill her,” Gwayne growled back, his voice low and dangerous. “I won’t let you harm her.”

Above them, the roar of dragons filled the air as Silverwing engaged with Sunfyre and Vhagar. Dragonfire crackled like thunder, the heat from the flames casting an eerie glow over the battlefield. You were up there, fighting for your life, for your cause. Gwayne’s heart ached with every fiery burst, knowing that each moment could be your last.

Criston lunged, and Gwayne barely parried the strike in time. The two knights clashed, steel against steel, each strike filled with desperation and fury. Gwayne fought with everything he had, driven by the need to protect you, even if it meant cutting down one of his own.

“Do you think she cares for you, Gwayne?!” Criston taunted between strikes. “She’s a dragonrider, a princess—she’ll never be yours! You’re a fool!”

“I know what I am,” Gwayne snarled, knocking Criston’s sword aside and slamming his shoulder into the other man’s chest, sending him stumbling back. “But I also know what I feel. And I’ll not stand by and let you murder her.”

Criston recovered quickly, rage twisting his features as he advanced again. “She chose Daemon over you! The Rogue Prince—do you think she’ll remember your name when she’s ash?”

Gwayne roared in fury, his blade a blur as he pressed the attack. The sounds of battle, of dragons shrieking and flames roaring, were deafening, but all Gwayne could hear was the pounding of his own heart, the desperate need to get to you, to save you. But with every second that passed, his hope dwindled, and fear gnawed at the edges of his resolve.

Then, the ground trembled, a shockwave of heat and force rippling across the battlefield as a massive burst of dragonfire erupted nearby. Gwayne staggered, the distraction costing him as Criston’s sword sliced across his side. Pain flared, but he gritted his teeth, refusing to fall. He couldn’t afford to fall—not when you needed him.

But as the flames subsided, a silhouette emerged through the smoke—Silverwing, descending, with you astride her. Your eyes, burning with determination and fury, locked onto the scene below: Criston standing over a wounded Gwayne, ready to deliver the killing blow.

“Y/N!” Gwayne shouted, his voice raw with desperation.

You didn’t hesitate. With a command, Silverwing unleashed a torrent of dragonfire, forcing Criston to leap back, narrowly avoiding being consumed by the flames. In the brief reprieve, Gwayne stumbled to his feet, clutching his side.

Your gaze met his, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The memory of that last kiss, of your shared moments, hung between you like an unspoken vow. Gwayne knew he had only seconds before the battle resumed, but in those few heartbeats, he saw the truth in your eyes—the love that had never truly died, the bond that still connected you, even through war and betrayal.

But there was no time for words. With a final, lingering look, you turned Silverwing toward the sky, preparing for the next wave of the fight. And as you ascended into the chaos once more, Gwayne knew he would fight until his last breath to protect you, even if the whole world stood against him.The battle raged on, but in that moment, Gwayne Hightower’s heart belonged to only one—you.

The battlefield below Rook’s Rest was a symphony of chaos and death, the sky a canvas painted with fire and blood. Gwayne could only watch in helpless agony as you and Silverwing clashed in the heavens with Sunfyre and Aegon, two dragons locked in a deadly dance of tooth and claw. Overhead, the monstrous shadow of Vhagar circled like a vulture, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Every screech of agony, every roar of defiance, was a knife twisting deeper into Gwayne’s chest.

On the ground, Criston Cole barked orders, his eyes fixed on the battle above. The soldiers scrambled, trying to reload the scorpions, but the dragonfire raining down made their task near impossible. Bolts flew haphazardly, striking neither dragon nor rider, only adding to the carnage below as men screamed, burning alive in dragonflame. Gwayne’s heart pounded in his ears, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the clash in the sky.

Silverwing and Sunfyre circled each other in a blur of flashing claws and snapping jaws, the air thick with the scent of burning flesh and blood. Gwayne could see the desperation in the way you leaned into every attack, urging Silverwing forward with a fury that matched his own. Aegon, though armored in golden scales and atop his mighty Sunfyre, was losing ground; he was not the rider you were, and Sunfyre, for all his pride, was no match for Silverwing’s speed and power.

“Hold fast, Sunfyre!” Aegon’s voice cut through the air, laced with both command and fear. But the king’s bravado was slipping. The once-proud Sunfyre shrieked in pain as Silverwing’s talons raked across his side, tearing through scales and flesh. Blood sprayed like rain, glistening in the sunlight before falling onto Criston’s soldiers below, causing them to scatter in panic.

Gwayne could feel his grip tightening on his sword as he watched, torn between the desire to cheer for your victory and the dread that this battle would consume you. Criston, standing nearby, had forgotten Gwayne entirely, his eyes alight with a mixture of awe and hatred. “If Sunfyre falls, so falls our king,” Criston muttered to himself, though Gwayne could hear the edge of panic in his voice.

But you would not give Sunfyre a moment of reprieve. Silverwing descended with fury, slamming into the golden beast with the force of a hurricane. The clash was brutal, teeth and claws tearing through scales, blood and fire mingling as the two dragons grappled. Sunfyre roared, a cry filled with both pain and rage, as Silverwing’s jaws clamped down on his wing.

“No!” Aegon’s scream echoed across the battlefield, his eyes wide with disbelief as Silverwing’s powerful muscles twisted and tore, shredding Sunfyre’s wing almost completely from its body. The golden dragon thrashed wildly, his flight faltering as the wing dangled uselessly by a thread of sinew and bone.

Gwayne’s breath caught in his throat, torn between elation and horror. You were winning, but at what cost? He knew what was coming next. Vhagar, that ancient beast of war, had been waiting for this moment. With a bellow that shook the very ground, the monstrous she-dragon descended like a nightmare from the skies, her jaws wide and hungry.

“Look out!” Gwayne shouted, knowing full well you couldn’t hear him from so far below. His heart thundered in his chest as Vhagar slammed into both Silverwing and Sunfyre with the force of a landslide. The three dragons collided in a tangle of limbs, scales, and teeth, a storm of rage and destruction. The impact was so fierce that Gwayne felt the ground shudder beneath him.

“No! No, no, no…” Gwayne whispered, his voice cracking as he watched the entangled dragons plummet toward the earth. You and Aegon were mere shadows against the backdrop of fire and smoke, barely visible as the dragons twisted and fell in a deadly spiral. Criston’s soldiers, caught between the descending juggernauts and their own fear, broke ranks, fleeing in every direction as the ground rushed up to meet the falling beasts.

Gwayne felt a cold dread settle in his bones as he watched you, desperately holding onto Silverwing’s saddle as the world blurred around you. You clung on with a ferocity that spoke to your will to survive, but against Vhagar’s ancient fury and Sunfyre’s desperate thrashing, even the mighty Silverwing was struggling.

Criston’s eyes were wild as he watched the battle unfold, his voice a harsh whisper of disbelief. “Vhagar will end it… she must end it…”

But Gwayne wasn’t watching Vhagar anymore. He was watching you. You were still fighting, still urging Silverwing to fight back, but the odds were overwhelming. Sunfyre’s golden scales were slick with blood, his roars more pitiful now as he struggled to right himself in the air. Silverwing’s wings beat furiously, trying to break free from Vhagar’s crushing grip, but the elder dragon’s jaws clamped down on Silverwing’s neck, dragging all three dragons toward the ground with terrifying speed.

The earth shook as the three dragons smashed into the battlefield, the impact sending up a cloud of dirt and debris. The sound was deafening—a sickening crunch of bone and screech of metal as the dragons collided with the earth. Gwayne’s heart dropped into his stomach, his eyes searching desperately through the smoke and dust for any sign of you.

“No…” he whispered, stumbling forward as if he could somehow reach you, somehow pull you from the wreckage of dragons and death. But even from here, he could see the carnage—Silverwing’s body twisted and battered, Sunfyre writhing in agony, and Vhagar looming above them all, a monstrous shadow of death.

For a heartbeat, the battlefield fell silent, every eye fixed on the wreckage of the fallen dragons. Gwayne’s breath was ragged, his eyes straining to catch a glimpse of you amidst the chaos. The dust began to settle, revealing broken bodies, shattered armor, and the mangled forms of the dragons.

And then he saw you—barely visible, still moving. You crawled from beneath Silverwing’s wing, blood streaking your face, your expression fierce even in the face of such overwhelming odds. Gwayne’s heart leaped into his throat. You were alive. Against all the odds, you had survived the fall.

But the battle was far from over. Vhagar’s malevolent eyes fixed on you, a deep rumble echoing from her throat as she prepared to finish what she had started. Aegon, still clinging to the last shreds of his pride, shouted commands to Sunfyre, but the once-majestic dragon was crippled, struggling even to rise.

Gwayne turned to Criston, his voice hoarse with desperation. “Do something! Call them off—she’ll be slaughtered!”

But Criston’s eyes were cold, devoid of mercy. “It’s too late, Hightower. She made her choice.”

Before Gwayne could respond, a deafening roar split the air as Vhagar reared back, ready to unleash a final torrent of fire upon you and Silverwing. Gwayne’s breath caught, knowing he was powerless to stop what was coming. All he could do was watch in helpless horror as the monstrous she-dragon prepared to strike.

But in those last moments, your eyes locked onto his. Even from across the battlefield, Gwayne saw the fire in your gaze—the unyielding determination, the refusal to surrender, even in the face of certain death. It was a look that would be seared into his memory forever.

And as Vhagar’s jaws parted, ready to unleash death upon the field, Gwayne did the only thing he could—he prayed. For you, for Silverwing, and for the love that had been forged in the fires of war.

It felt like time itself had slowed, the moments stretching into agonizing eternity. His breath hitched as the flames began to build in Vhagar’s throat, the light of impending destruction flickering in her maw. It would be over in seconds—everything would be lost.

But then, with a burst of speed that took even Gwayne by surprise, Silverwing jolted forward, her wings beating with desperate strength. As Vhagar’s jaws parted to unleash her fiery death, Silverwing struck. The smaller, silvery dragon lunged at Vhagar’s exposed throat, her teeth sinking into the tender scales. Her bite was unrelenting, fueled by both fury and the need to protect you. Vhagar’s flame sputtered out in a roar of agony, the ancient beast thrashing wildly as she tried to shake off the determined Silverwing.

Gwayne’s eyes widened in awe and terror. Silverwing’s tail snapped like a whip, striking Vhagar’s head with a force that reverberated across the battlefield. The blow landed squarely on Vhagar’s eye, the sound of bone and scale cracking sickeningly loud. The she-dragon’s roar of pain was a monstrous, guttural cry that seemed to shake the heavens. Even Aemond, usually so composed in battle, shouted in fury and alarm, yanking hard on the reins to regain control of his wounded dragon.

Gwayne knew he had only moments to act. Blood was streaming down your face, and even from a distance, he could see the exhaustion and pain etched into your features. You laid on the ground, barely holding on to life as Silverwing thrashed against Vhagar’s deadly strength. It was a miracle you had survived this long, but that miracle was on the brink of shattering. Gwayne’s decision was made in an instant, despite the searing pain in his side and the chaos around him.

Nearby, a riderless horse whinnied in terror, its eyes rolling as it tried to flee the madness. Gwayne gritted his teeth, limping toward the panicked creature. “Easy, girl,” he rasped, wincing with every step. The horse reared, wild with fear, but Gwayne moved with surprising swiftness, grasping the reins and swinging himself into the saddle with a grunt of pain. Blood stained his tunic from his earlier wound, but he forced himself to push through it. There was no time to dwell on it—not when you were up there, fighting for your life.

“Where are you going, you fool?!” Criston’s voice rang out behind him, filled with fury. “You’ll die, Hightower! Come back!”

But Gwayne was deaf to Criston’s commands. He spurred the horse forward, urging it toward the burning wreckage of dragons, toward you. The horse resisted at first, terrified by the scent of blood and fire, but Gwayne was relentless, guiding it with strong hands and determined resolve. The animal finally obeyed, its hooves pounding against the earth as it charged through the smoke and debris.

Criston cursed behind him, and Gwayne heard the clatter of armor as the Lord Commander sprinted after him, but Gwayne didn’t care. All that mattered was reaching you.

Above, the struggle between Silverwing and Vhagar intensified. Aemond’s curses mingled with the roars of his dragon as he tried to force Vhagar to tear herself free, but Silverwing was like a vice, her jaws locked onto Vhagar’s throat. The she-dragon’s great wings buffeted the air, but even Vhagar, with all her size and strength, was struggling against the tenacity of her smaller opponent. Silverwing’s wings were shredded, her silvery scales bloodied, but she refused to let go. She was holding on not just for herself, but for you.

“Y/N!” Gwayne’s shout cut through the chaos as he neared the spot where you lay half-alive below Silverwing’s wing. He could see that you were barely conscious, your grip weak on your sword as you fought to stay awake. Desperation fueled his every move as he urged the horse closer, reaching out to you. “Hold on! I’m coming!”

Through the haze of pain, you blinked up at him, your eyes unfocused. “Gwayne?” Your voice was faint, tinged with disbelief. “You… you shouldn’t be here…”

“I’m not leaving you!” Gwayne snapped, his voice rough with emotion. With a final burst of strength, he dismounted down beside you, reaching for your arm. The moment his hand grasped yours, you seemed to come back to life, your eyes clearing just enough to recognize him fully.

“Gwayne… you need to run,” you gasped, wincing as another jolt of pain coursed through you. “She’s going to kill us all…”

“Not today,” he vowed, pulling up with him and onto his horse. You were light in his arms, weakened from battle and injury, but there was still a flicker of the fierce spirit he had always admired in you. “I’ll get you out of here, I swear it.”

Criston’s voice was closer now, filled with anger. “Hightower, you’ll be executed for this!” he roared, but Gwayne didn’t even spare him a glance. He dug his heels into the horse’s flanks, and the animal surged forward, carrying you both away from the hellish scene behind you.

As the horse galloped across the field, Gwayne glanced back over his shoulder just in time to see the moment when Silverwing’s strength finally gave out. Vhagar’s claws found purchase, tearing deep into Silverwing’s side, and with a heart-wrenching cry, the silver dragon was forced to release her grip. Vhagar reared up, triumphant and bloodied, but the cost of the battle was clear—her eye was ruined, her scales cracked and bleeding. Silverwing collapsed onto the battlefield, her wings crumpling beneath her, but even then, she snarled defiantly, refusing to bow.

But there was no more fight left in her. Gwayne’s heart broke as he watched the light fade from Silverwing’s eyes, her body slumping in exhaustion. Aemond’s laughter echoed through the sky, dark and cruel, as he urged Vhagar to take the final blow. But before Vhagar could finish her fallen opponent, Gwayne’s eyes caught the movement of Criston as he halted his pursuit.

“Cole!” Aegon’s voice was a ragged gasp, filled with pain and panic. The king lay on the battlefield, unmoving, his once-golden armor scorched and twisted from the flames. His face was barely recognizable, the flesh blistered and raw, his body wracked with agony. Criston’s eyes widened in horror as he realized what had happened—their king was grievously injured, possibly dying. All thoughts of pursuing Gwayne and you evaporated as Criston sprinted toward Aegon, screaming orders for a healer.

Gwayne tightened his hold on you as the horse raced away from the carnage, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination. You clung to him weakly, your breath shallow, your strength fading fast. “Stay with me, Y/N,” he urged, his voice trembling with barely contained desperation. “Just hold on a little longer. We’ll find safety. I won’t let you die.”

Your eyes fluttered, and for a brief moment, you leaned your head against his chest, your voice a faint whisper. “You saved me… again…”

Gwayne’s throat tightened, his emotions threatening to spill over. “And I’ll keep saving you, no matter what it costs,” he promised, pressing a fierce kiss to your temple as the wind whipped through your hair. “I’m not losing you. Not today, not ever.”

Behind them, the battle raged on, but for Gwayne, the only thing that mattered was the woman in his arms and the fragile hope that somehow, despite everything, they would both live to see another day.

[hiddenzev]

Second Confession: Part 3

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: The aftermath of the confession

Chapter Warnings - Angst, One-sided love, Unrequited Love, Idiots in Love, (let me know if i missed anything)

WC: 5.4K

series masterlist , AO3

A/N: Sorry for the late update, something terrible happened during the week which put me out of the writing momentum I was in. Love all the comments that you guys left and I appreciate it a lot. Hope yall love this chapter as well because I don't know how to feel about it really because my imagination just runs wild sometimes and it kinda went off the rails here. Thank you! <3

You slam the door to your house shut and went up to your bedroom. You throw yourself on the bed and bury your face in the pillow, crying your eyes out. His words are replaying in your head.

“Without them, you’re just another person in Jackson that I don’t give a fuck about”

“We’re in the apocalypse and you’re out here telling me about your little crush on me”

“I thought you’re better than this”

You didn’t expect for it to be this painful. You were up all night tossing and turning in your bed, replaying the whole scene in your head. Not only that, you don’t know how to face him after this. It’s going to be real awkward from here on out. The depressing night ended with you falling asleep for only 2 hours after all that crying.

Awkward tension filled the breakfast table the next day. Only sound of chewing and the utensils hitting the plates can be heard. It’s obvious that you had a rough night. You woke up with swollen eyes and dried tears all over your face. You were so emotionally wrecked and you were conflicted whether to show up for breakfast or not. However, your pride does not allow you to miss the breakfast and allow Joel to think that he got the best of you. You did not expect to yearn for sunglasses so much in the apocalypse.

Ellie had been glancing at you since you sat down at the table. You had your hair covering half of your face to hide your red swollen eyes. She looks over to Tommy and Maria to see whether they will say anything about it but they are clearly giving you some space and time if you needed to talk about it yourself. Ellie couldn’t handle it anymore as expected from her impatience.

“Have you been crying?” She genuinely asks you.

You know she meant well and she didn’t know what happened last night but you just wished that she would not bring it up at the table. You see a glimpse of Joel out of the corner of your eyes turning his head slowly to look at you. You tried to hide more of your face by staring down at your food.

“No. Just had an allergic reaction this morning, It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” You said in a calm tone to hide your embarrassment.

“Oh, I didn’t know you have an allergy,” she asks curiously.

“Yeah I have a dust allergy, it’s minor, really, that’s why I didn’t bother telling anyone about it,” you do actually have the allergy but you just lied to cover up the real reason you have those eyes during breakfast.

Everyone just quietly finish their breakfast after that before parting ways for their own respective duties. You can tell from their concerned faces that they wanted to talk more with you but they let it go for now. Luckily for you, you didn’t have to face Joel for any of the duties that day. You take that opportunity to distract yourself with your duties to ensure that your thoughts are more rational and that you are not high on emotions like before.

For the next couple of days, you focus on doing the things you like so that your thoughts don’t stray away to Joel. You catch up on reading again which you have stopped for a few weeks prior due to your overwhelming thoughts of Joel. You busied yourself with more chores and did extra hours of shift duties. Certain things in your house reminds you of him like your wood carvings and your collection of items that you saved for him. You put those away out of your sight to help you out.

You try to tune out the sound of the guitar when he’s playing it which strangely, he’s been playing it every night recently and for much longer than usual. It makes you fall asleep peacefully with thoughts of him before you close your eyes and even after you wake up in the morning. It’s difficult to just stop thinking about someone that you were so obsessed about for a long time but you hope it will go away gradually as time passes by.

Eventually, everyone in the circle (basically just Tommy, Ellie and Maria) knew about what happened. They knew something was up when your eyes don’t light up as it used to when Joel is mentioned. Also, you can’t lie for shit. You were awkward and stuttering when they ask you about Joel.

You told them everything that happened that night as best as you could remember. Your good heart tried to defend some of what Joel said that you thought were true and they scolded you for it saying you must have lost your mind. Yes, he could be nicer to you but you can’t deny that you took that risk knowing he’s going to be mean. But whatever. You can’t change what happened. Needless to say, they were so mad at Joel for how he had rejected you. They don’t blame him for not reciprocating your feelings but they were hoping he could be gentle about it. You don’t know if they confronted him after that and you couldn’t care less at that time.

The day that you are dreading has come to haunt you. It’s patrol day with the person that broke your heart. You wake up earlier than your usual patrol day to ready yourself to spend almost half of the day with Joel since that painful conversation. You remind yourself to stay strong and just focus on the important tasks that you need to do. You don’t want to be weak in front of him and give him the upper hand.

The time comes for you to make your way to the ranch. You lock your door and as usual, has to walk down the street, passing by Joel’s house. What you didn’t expect is to see him getting out of the house as you pass by. He would have already been at the ranch by now normally. You are slightly annoyed and panicking knowing he’s going to be walking behind you this morning. You don’t like that he’s going to be eyeing you and you don’t want to know what he’s thinking about.

Usually the quiet streets in the early morning is very serene to you but now it's torturing to be able to hear his footsteps faintly behind you. You walk slightly faster than usual to quickly end this misery. Thankfully, you reach the ranch with no complications. You quickly busy yourself with checking your horse and make sure everything is set and ready to go. You barely look at Joel to see what he is up to until the both of you make your way to the gates.

He's leading the way as always and he looks back at you to see if you're ready to go. You stare at him with a cold look in your eyes before giving him a stiff nod reluctantly. His eyes linger on your face before he turns to ride out of the gates.

The tension is the same as the first patrol with him or maybe even higher. The other patrols after the first, were full of you rambling and cracking jokes to fill the silence with him giving you an annoyed look. Different than those days, you do not bother to ease the tension.

The landscape is bathing in the warm glow of the rising sun. The rich scent of nature surrounding the both of you hits you strongly. Unlike the relationship between you and Joel, the sounds of nature are peaceful and has a harmonious symphony.

Joel who is leading the way, steals some glances at you time to time. You try not to be affected by it.

“We’ll stop by the cabin soon.” He states in his husky voice without looking back at you.

You do not reply to what he said knowing there’s no use of it. After a short travel, the cabin comes to sight in a distance. Both of you get off of the horses and check the surroundings before tying the horses to a nearby, sturdy tree. You follow Joel to get in the cabin. Both of you check everything that is needed to be checked before agreeing to have a short break.

You sit at one end of the sofa while Joel sits at the other end. You take out the lunch and drink that you packed from your bag. You fill up your stomach as you lean back on the sofa. Joel eats his sandwich in silence with his arms on his knees. Halfway through your meal, he speaks unexpectedly surprising you.

“Did you have a good sleep?” He asks while chewing on his food.

You turned your head to look at him, not believing what you just heard. He don’t make small talk at all, not once to you, so you are wondering why he’s acting like this all of a sudden.

“Yeah.” You replied him with a questioning tone, not used to him asking you something personal.

He keeps his eyes on the sandwich he’s holding and nods his head after hearing what you said. You take this chance to see whether he will answer you.

“How about you?” You mumble in a low voice, not sure how he would respond.

“Not bad.” He murmurs, still eating his food.

You stare at him for a moment, taking in this rare moment of him being somewhat calm with you. With his patchy salt and pepper beard, a nose that you believe to be specifically sculpted by God, curls that makes you want to tangle your hands in, it makes the walls that you built for the past couple of days to crumble down just by looking at him. It’s so unfair that you still have a soft spot for him in your heart and you’re afraid that any little thing that he do will make you forgive him.

You finishes your meal and lean your head back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. You hear the sound of him storing his food back into his bag before you feel him move slightly through the sofa. In the meantime, you just study the ceiling while everything else just fades in the background. You find the room is silent after getting out of the trance that you were in.

You look to your side to see Joel is staring at you. Has he been staring at you the whole time? Your eyes connect for a few seconds before he look down at his hands. Your heart stupidly starts to beat faster knowing he was staring at you intently. Your body betrays you by blushing a little from his gaze.

He licks his lips nervously while looking everywhere else but you. You sit up feeling the nervousness that he is portraying. You look at him waiting as he seems to want to say something.

“Umm…about what you said the other night…” he fiddles with his hands nervously.

He is having trouble to say what he wants and keeps glancing around. You try to save him the trouble by speaking up, wanting to get over this awkward conversation.

“It’s fine. Just forget about it. If it makes you uncomfortable, let’s just pretend that never happened.” You suggests while looking out the window, away from Joel’s side. It hurts a little for you to say that but you think it’s better this way.

You stands up to dust off your pants before picking up your bag to get out of the cabin and continue your shift duty.

“Let’s go.” You said coldly, making your way out to the horses.

Joel just observes you from a distance with pressed lips and doesn’t say anything to object what you have just said. He ponders for awhile before joining you. You carry on the patrol with much more focus and not bring up any personal topic to him.

Needless to say, the patrol ended with no complications and you did so much better than you expected. At least, you don’t think you made yourself look like a fool still wanting him. Thankfully, he didn’t talk about it after that as well.

After the patrol, Joel is at Tipsy Bison, sitting alone at a booth in the corner. He observes everyone in the bar just having a good time. There are a few couples in there swaying along to the music at the opposite end of the bar. The way they look at each other with so much love in their eyes makes Joel feel envious of them. He does not think that anyone would look at him that way in the apocalypse. He does not think that he deserves it after everything that he’s been through.

That is why when you confessed to him that night, he was taken aback and pushed you away because he doesn’t believe that you knew him enough to truly like him for who he is. He also doesn’t think of you more than an acquaintance of Tommy and Ellie. To hear your confession, altered his brain completely. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be feeling.

As he is thinking about you, Tommy comes into the bar and looks for Joel. He makes his way to him after spotting him in his usual corner. Tommy slides into the booth on the opposite side of Joel.

“She’s not coming. Said she wants to be alone for tonight.” Tommy sighs heavily, leaning back while scrutinizing Joel.

Joel just gives a short grunt in reply while munching on some nuts on the table. Tommy hesitantly brings up what’s happening between you and him and leans forward on the table.

“Are you really gonna keep this up with her?” Tommy asks Joel, eyebrows scrunching.

“Keep what up?” Joel looks up at Tommy with a huge frown on his face.

“Well you know, being an asshole,” Tommy added.

“You think I’m supposed to accept her or something?” Joel staring at Tommy with questioning look on his face.

Tommy just shrugs casually.

“That’s ridiculous. I don’t have feelings for her at all and you, of all people should know that I’m not looking for anything in this fucked up world.” Joel gives his reason to Tommy. He’s tired of explaining himself to his brother.

“I get it but you could have let her down gently instead of being rude to her.” Tommy countered with a dull look at his face.

He’s angry to see you heartbroken by his cold hearted brother. He cherish you a lot as a friend and wants the best for you. He can’t help it that you fell for his brother that doesn’t see love as the way you do.

Joel has nothing to say to that. He agrees that he was mean to you. He was not thinking straight at that time and was overwhelmed with so much feelings that he don’t understand. He did reflected on his words and actions after that and it was bothering him still.

“She was not even expecting anything from you but to just listen to what she had to say,” Tommy continues to explain your intention.

“What good does that do to me?” Joel answers with irritation.

Tommy shakes his head slowly before talking again.

“She genuinely cares about you, brother.” He said with a low voice, his eyes not wavering while looking at Joel.

“All of us sees how she looks and acts around you. I bet that you have your own suspicions as well because only a damn fool wouldn’t see it. You don’t want to lose someone that really cares about you in the apocalypse. Especially not her. Maybe she could help you feel a little joy in this, like you said, fucked up world. If you need  some proof, just look at me and Maria.” Tommy tries to convince him.

Joel breaks eye contact with Tommy and sips his drink before looking at everyone in the bar. Most of the people here are smiling and laughing even when they know the situation that they are in.

“I know some people that are interested in her. They’ve been asking me about her for awhile.” Tommy picks up a few nuts in his hands before throwing it in the air and catching it with his mouth.

Joel shifts his eyes back to Tommy after hearing that. His eyes slightly widen than before with a certain glint in his eyes prompting Tommy to explain more.

“She’s been on her own for a long time and I know she’s been feeling lonely. It might do her some good if I introduce her to someone that she could make a new friend with.” Tommy continues to talk while snacking on the nuts.

“If you really want her, i suggest you get your act together and do something about it before it’s too late. What’s the point of living if you’re not really living it,” Tommy raises his eyebrows at Joel.

Joel clenches his jaw thinking about you looking at another man like how you used to look at him. He doesn’t know why his anger is rising just thinking about it.

Tommy stands up to the side of the table before placing his hand on Joel’s shoulder, squeezing it a little.

“I better get going to my wife. I’ll see you around.” He winks at Joel before going.

Joel’s eyes follow Tommy until he is out of sight. He sits there for a moment thinking about what Tommy said before making his way back home.

On the way back home, his head is filled with the thoughts of you. How he first met you, the way you blush when he's near you, how you look at him with sparkles in you eyes, basically everything about you.

However, the patrol earlier with you was different. You were giving him the cold shoulder and didn't act as you usually were. You did not yap about what you like or don't like, not even the weather, like you usually does. It bothers him that he kind of want to hear your cheery voice instead of your deafening silence.

As he is busy in his own thoughts, he didn't realise that he's reaching his house. In a distance, he could see that your bedroom is emitting soft and warm light. He stops right at his house, looking at the direction of your house. For the first time, he wonders what you are up to.

He turns to walk into his house and the memories of what happened that night came rushing back again. Ever since that night, he's reminded of what happened every time he passes by it.

After dropping your gift on the ground and shutting the door on you that night, he hovered behind the door, processing what just happened. He moved to the window near the door and took a peek behind the curtains. He saw that you were staring at your gift right below you with your fists clenched by your sides. While he was feeling bad, seeing you crushed like that, he didn't expect to see you throw the gift at his door angrily before stomping off. It's the first time he saw you that angry.

He opened his door after making sure that you are already in your house. He took your gift inside and sat on his sofa to open it. It's his first time opening a gift from someone after the outbreak except when Ellie gave him one couple months ago.

He opened the small package slowly and froze seeing the contents in it. He took the beautiful horse chess piece and brought it up close to his face to observe it. There were your initials in small letters at the bottom of the piece, indicating that you carved it yourself. He was mesmerised and lost in the details of the piece before remembering the other contents in the package. He placed the chess piece on the small coffee table in front of him carefully.

He took out the small guitar pick that says 'I pick you' on it. He scoffed with a small smile on his face thinking this was corny but cute. He knows Ellie would find this funny because of her lame jokes. He realised that you must have heard him play his guitar at nights. He didn't know that you could listen from that far away.

Lastly, he opened the letter that you wrote for him.

'Dear Joel,

Firstly, I'm sorry to take you by surprise and I feel like the only way I can tell you how I truly feel about you is by writing this. Joel, you caught my eyes ever since you came in here and no one else really matters as much as you matters to me (except for Ellie, Tommy and Maria of course).

It's getting tough for me to keep these feelings hidden away from you so that is why I want to get it out of my chest. I know that your grumpy ass might think it's silly but my feelings are real, Joel. My heart beats faster just by thinking about you and you don't even want to know how it's like to be near you. There's not a single day which I don't think of you. I see you in my head before I go to sleep at night and after I wake up in the morning.

You may think it is selfish of me to be doing this, yes, I don't deny that. I'd rather be selfish than regretting not telling you the truth. I'm not expecting you to return the same feelings for me. I'm not asking you to be my lover or whatsoever. I just want us to be friends. It's fine if you don't want to. We'll just be who we are to each other before this.

By the way, I'm giving you a chess piece which I made specially for you. I've heard from Ellie that you got a little chess project that you're working on. It's not much but it did felt pretty good to carve it. I might just start carving as a hobby, as a matter of fact. Also, you probably would already guess why I'm giving you the guitar pick. I've heard you play the guitar sometimes and I do love listening to you play. Picked that one out just for you. Thought you might find it funny. I know Ellie does for sure.

Anyway, those are just my tokens of appreciation for you. Thank you for not making me feel lonely and boring in here. I truly do like you even if you don't believe it.

Cheers,

Your Neighbour'

Joel sighed heavily while leaning back against the sofa. He thought about you  putting the effort to write this letter, you being thoughtful of getting him a guitar pick and especially about you taking the time to carve a chess piece specially for him, knowing it is something that he loves doing.

He went to sleep that night with so much guilt of being rude to you earlier. He wished to take back the mean things he said towards you. He doesn't know what to do to make it better. He needs to apologise but his harden self doesn't know how to.

Tonight is game night. The last night of every month, Tommy would gather all of us to have a game night at his house. Everyone is seated in the living room facing each other. You are sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace and Ellie is sitting to your right. Maria is sitting on a sofa chair to your left. Tommy and Joel sits opposite of you on the sofa.

You were playing charades for a few rounds with the group split into two, boys versus girls. Maybe because they are brothers, they were sweeping the rounds with ease. It’s annoying to see Tommy with a smug look as he is winning every round with Joel. He even taunted the girls just to rile them up. Joel on the other hand, looks so nonchalant as usual even when he’s playing and doesn’t even react much when he won.

“Let’s play a new game! I played it with my friends recently and it was kinda fun,” Ellie suggested with an excited look on her face.

“What game?” Tommy moves forward slightly to the edge of the sofa, interested to know about the new game.

“It’s called ‘Never have I ever’.” Ellie introduces the game and explains the rule to everyone.

Once everyone understands how to play, Ellie starts first. Each and everyone of you have a turn stating what you all had never done. One round passes and it’s back to Ellie. You had two of your fingers folded already from previous attacks.

“Never have I ever experience living before the outbreak.” she grins mischievously.

Everyone except Ellie groan and complain about what she had just said.

“That’s sooo cheap,” You narrow your eyes at her while shaking your head slowly.

“What? I had to. I want to the be the last one standing.” She reasons her way out before telling Joel to go next.

“Never have I ever worn high heels.” He said as he looks at you and Maria.

You and Maria folded a finger each, cursing quietly under your breath. Tommy  went next causing Joel to fold a finger. Maria has a go for one of Tommy’s.

It is soon your turn and you take a jab at the boys by saying, “Never have I ever have a male sibling.” you cannot contain the small smile on your face after saying that.

You don’t dare to look at Joel so you just keep your gaze on his fingers to see him folding one of it. Tommy curses you and you chuckle softly.

The game continues and mostly everyone have five fingers left except for Ellie who is left with seven. She’s being so ruthless in this game. You cannot expect what she will say each round. Everyone is trying to protect her innocence while she has no filter on and just runs her mouth without thinking twice.

Some of the things she said in the game were, ‘not having a relationship before’ (very mild), ‘never experience sex before’ (okay, chill. Everyone was stunned hearing that from a 15 year old mouth) and in the previous round, ‘never seen her parents before’ (the room totally went silent).

It’s back to her again and the next thing that she said, caught you off guard.

“Never have I ever done any wood carvings.” you glance at her to see that she’s already smirking at you. How did this little shit know about this?

Your eyes can’t help but shifts to Joel and sees that he’s already putting one finger down, leaving him with only three left. He briefly looks at you before looking down at the floor in the middle of the circle. You hesitantly put a finger down and that is obviously not missed by the other two people in the room.

“Oh, you did?” Maria turns her body to you, indicating that you should explain more about it.

“Yeah, I started like a couple months ago,” you give her a short reply and hoping they would move on from this.

“Why didn’t you tell us? You know this man over here does them a lot,” Tommy gives a good grip on Joel’s shoulder and shakes him slightly, “Maybe the both of you could spend some time carving together.”

You and Joel make eye contact for a brief moment. All you can think about is that one chess piece that you made for him. You wonder if he keeps it or he had thrown it away after that night.

Ellie reminds Joel that it’s his turn next but Joel suddenly says that he doesn’t want to play this game anymore and that he wants to go home soon as he is tired. You think that his mood is ruined thinking of the chess piece that you made specially for him. Sadness filled your heart again thinking that he doesn't like it.

Tommy eases up the tension by asking if anyone needs more drinks.

"Me." Ellie said and gets up to squeeze in between Joel and Tommy.

Tommy stands with a groan to get the drinks from the kitchen. Your butt starts to hurt sitting on the hard floor as well so you move to sit on the only available chair beside Joel. Tommy comes back holding drinks on both hands. He hands one over to Ellie before sitting on the arm rest on Maria’s sofa chair. He leans towards Maria and put his arm over her shoulders. They gently smile at each other making you feel slightly jealous of the love that they have.

Tommy turns to you looking as if he just remembered something.

“Hey, you know Emile, right?” He asks.

“Yeah. Always see him in the library. Why?” you asks, not knowing where this is going.

“He’s been asking about you, wondering how you’ve been,” he added.

“Oh, it’s probably because I didn’t visit the library for awhile now.” you shrug your shoulders.

“Guess he misses you, huh” he smirks with one eyebrow raised.

“Nah, what are you talking about? Stop it.” You chuckles softly finding this is ridiculous. Shaking your head, you slump back on the sofa, sighing.

Emile is one of the librarians in the community. He’s been here for almost half a year and he’s been really nice to you. He’s tall, has short and curly dirty blonde hair, striking blue eyes and quite a gentleman. He’s popular among the ladies for being a sweetheart. He will strike up conversations with you every time you go to the library to browse some books or spend some time reading alone there. You can tell he is into books and love to learn about new things even though he’s clumsy at times.

He’s younger than you by a couple of years and you only view him like a little brother all this time. He’s giving a golden retriever energy and it does make you smile sometimes. He reminds you of the feeling of warmth when hanging out with your close friends before the outbreak.

You were sure that he don’t have feelings for you in a romantic way. Maybe you are wrong. You were too busy focusing on Joel to notice anyone else in the vicinity. 

“Maybe he likes you,” Ellie chirps in,

“No fucking way,” you dismisses that idea right away.

“What if he does?” Tommy asks you seriously.

“I don’t know?”

“What do you think of him?” Maria asks with a soft smile on her face.

God, you wish you could disappear right there and then. You do not look at Joel’s direction but you can see at the corner of your eyes, his fingers are gripping the arm rest on his side really hard.

“He’s a nice lad. Real sweet,” you say hesitatingly, knowing they might tease you with whatever you will say, “always ask me if I’m doing good every time I see him in the library.”

You glance to your side a little bit and spots Joel’s fingers are scratching the arm rest mindlessly. He’s tapping his foot restlessly and something about that makes you want to comfort him.

You’re tired of the pressure they’re putting on you here and especially with Joel in the presence. However, you think maybe you could use this opportunity to see how he would react. Why is he restless? Is he jealous? Or is he just so repulsed by you?

“Maybe I should visit the library tomorrow and see him.” You casually say that, pretending you are happy with the idea of seeing Emile.

Everyone especially Tommy and Ellie are cheering and howling except for the grumpy old man beside you. He soaks in the moment for a few seconds before getting up of his seat.

“I’m going home.” He says to everyone with a strangled voice.

He storms past right in front of you and you can feel the anger seeping through his body without even touching him. In that moment, you take in his earthy and musky scent as he strides pass you. You almost run after him to check if he’s okay. It’s driving you insane that he still have you wrapped around his little finger and you cannot do anything about it.

Is he angry that you’re going to see Emile tomorrow?

Why would he be angry if he rejected you?

next part

Thank you so much for reading this chapter. I will update the next one within two weeks!! Pinky promise <3

Taglist: @greenwitchfromthewoods @rebeccawinters @cuteanimalmama @rodriguez31 @orcasoul @ashleyfilm

[haaarry]

Harry and Y/N make-up.

Harry has to be quick.

He and Y/N haven’t been on good terms for about two weeks now, and they agreed to not talk and give each other space so they could think about what to do.

But that hasn’t stopped him from still fulfilling his boyfriend responsibilities.

He still thinks it’s right to text her good morning and good night, as well as leave her little goody baskets at her front door for when she gets off work.

Like today!

He realized the first of the month is coming up, and Y/N has to pay rent. He knows she’s good on cash, but he likes to help her in any way he can (even when he’s supposed to be giving her space) and thought it’d be nice to send her a little something — actually, a quite big amount. He sends her the entirety of her rent through a money-sending app, as well as a few extra hundred dollars. He labels the memo with “rent/groceries/anything, really.” He smiles and presses send. He hopes she doesn’t send it back.

Then, he places down the goody basket he got for Y/N at her door step (filled with all her favorite snacks, as well as a note to let her know he still loves her so she doesn’t forget) and turns quickly on his heels. As much as he would like to see Y/N, he knows she gets home at about this time after work, and he doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable. He’s already pressing the boundaries as it is.

But, as luck would have it, he’s face-to-face with her as he turns around. His breath hitches in his throat, feeling his body go numb with excitement yet also feeling anxious. He notices Y/N’s eyes go wide.

“Hi,” she says simply, yet in a slightly higher-than-normal-pitch due to being caught off guard.

“Hi,” he returns the greeting. He realizes he must look foolish — standing outside her apartment when they’re supposed to be giving each other space. “I, um-“ he stutters, “brought you this.” He gestures to the goody basket, feeling his cheeks heat. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous.

Y/N tilts her head around Harry’s body to look at the basket on the ground. She looks back at him and gently smiles. “Thank you,” she looks around nervously. “And thank you for the money. You didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to,” he proclaims. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Y/N’s eyes soften. She takes note of his anxious demeanor and looks at the goody basket again. “Do you want to come inside?” She asks randomly. But not really — she misses him, and she accepts it.

“Yes,” he blurts out. He realizes how eager he sounds, but he doesn’t care.

“Okay,” she smiles and looks anywhere but at him, feeling a warmth encompass her body suddenly.

They enter her home. Harry sets down the goody basket on her kitchen island, taking a second to inhale the familiar scent. It was weird; he used to sleep here every night, but before this moment, he hadn’t been here in two weeks.

“How was work?” Harry abruptly asks, not liking the silence.

“Oh!” Y/N softly giggles. “It was good! I actually had a good day.” She swings her arms back and forth, not sure of how to act or stand. She doesn’t know why she’s so nervous.

“That’s good,” Harry lamely replies, looking down at the design on her kitchen island and tracing it with his finger.

A silence falls between them again, neither of them knowing how to act around the other — given their situation.

“How was your day?” Y/N asks.

“I don’t want to talk about my day,” Harry states, looking up at her. Y/N notices he’s slightly teary-eyed. “What’re we doing?” He asks in an upset tone. “Are we going to be in this awkward state forever?”

“Harry-“ Y/N tries to interject.

“No, really,” Harry continues. “I mean, we’re just going to go on and pretend we’re together, but we’re not really together because you don’t answer my texts and you don’t let me come see you and-“

“Harry,” Y/N says in a stern yet calm tone. She grabs Harry’s face, him not even realizing she had gotten closer to him during his spiel. “I love you.” Her voice is incredibly soft.

Harry looks into Y/N’s eyes, replaying her words in his mind. Her watery eyes match his own, and he feels himself sink lower into her touch, falling into her hands. He closes his eyes, and the salt of his tears burn.

“I love you,” he says back with his eyes closed. “I love you more,” he says with his eyes open.

Y/N shakes her head with a light laugh and sniffle. “No.”

“Yes,” Harry says firmly, inching his face closer toward hers. His lips brush hers, waiting to receive a confirmation his tongue can enter her mouth with either her body language or a simple word. She parts her lips, just barely, and Harry takes the opportunity.

He kisses her, rather sloppily, and their lips create a smooch sound before he slips his tongue into her mouth. Y/N moans, missing Harry's kisses, and falls into his body. She caresses his face and holds onto his jawline with one hand, while the other travels through the hair at the back of his head, slightly tugging. Harry reciprocates the moan and instinctively juts his hips forward, hitting Y/N's pelvis. She laughs into Harry's mouth and pulls away -- although not without Harry whining in disagreement.

"Where ya goin'?" He murmurs against her lips, with a smile. "Need you," he juts his hips forward again.

Y/N becomes shy, resting her forehead on Harry's cheek and giggling. "I can tell." She looks down at him in his pants, pushing hard against the material. "You want my mouth?" She asks bravely while looking up at him, with a mischievous smile.

"Please, baby." Harry grabs hold of her waist and slips his right hand into her pants, wanting to see if she'd gotten wet yet; and she has. "Fuck," Harry moans, slipping his middle and ring fingers easily through her folds, "you're already so wet, baby."

Y/N is already a whimpering mess, moaning into Harry's mouth as he gathers her wetness and brings it up to rub against her clit. "I thought... I..." she struggles to get out, "I thought you wanted me to-" her breath hitches in her throat at Harry slips two of his fingers into her.

"Later, sweet girl." Harry whispers into her ear. "I think you need to be taken care of first, hmm?" The speed of his fingers quicken, causing them to create a squelching noise that sends Y/N into a frenzy.

"But I... I wanna... please," Y/N begs him, ready to lap all over his cock, despite how wonderful Harry's fingers feel.

"You wanna what?" Harry encourages her. "Hmm?" He thumbs at her clit, rubbing circles against it.

Y/N looks up at Harry, doe-eyed. She cradles his dick, bulging through his pants. "I want you in my mouth," she says seductively, and Harry feels himself begin to leak.

She gets down on her knees, not even giving Harry and opportunity to pull his own hand out of her pants before doing so. She lifts her shirt up and over her head and unclasps her bra. She knows how much Harry likes to see her breasts when she takes him in her mouth.

Usually, Y/N likes to unzip Harry's pants and suck him off through his zipper, but today she's eager and pulls his pants all the way down. His cock springs up and points at Y/N's face. The wet tip brushes her lips -- puffy from Harry's kisses -- and coats them in his precum. She tastes it and Harry watches, his chest rising and falling as he eyes the beauty on her knees for him.

"Gonna suck my cock?" He asks her in a taunting yet playful tone. Grabbing her hair, Y/N feels herself getting even more needy for Harry's dick, and she wraps her lips around his tip, closing her eyes. "My pretty girl," he praises her, voice hitching as she takes him deeper. She slides her tongue all around him, getting him nice and wet so she can work him with her hand while sucking on his tip.

"So big," she gushes, jerking him off while looking up at Harry. She slathers a mixture of her spit and his precum onto her nipples, using the head of his dick as a sort of paintbrush. She knows Harry has a peculiar obsession with her tits -- her nipples in particular. Seeing them hard and dripping (from him) gets him going more than anything.

"Ah," Harry throws his head back and sucks air between his teeth. He speaks heavily and grittily. "All mine, right?" He reaches his right hand down and squeezes her nipple. She takes him back into her mouth and groans. "Right?" He persists, squeezing her nipple again before tangling her hair into a makeshift ponytail and giving it a good yank.

Y/N pops him out of her mouth. "M'all yours," she says honestly.

Even when they were broken up, she was his -- and she always will be.

Harry pulls Y/N up to her feet, guiding her by the hold he still has on her hair. He grips her jaw with the other hand and kisses her hard. He's ready to take her, and he can't wait another second.

"All mine." He spins her around and bends her over slightly onto the kitchen island, just enough to have her behind push back against him. Removing her pants is quick. He slips into her, finally, and they voice how good it feels at the same time, such as fucking hell and so big, baby, both in pure ecstasy.

"You're all mine," Harry reiterates with a whimper, breath shuttering against Y/N's neck. "My pretty girl." His hips speed up, knowing this will be quick. His lips drag against her neck as he whispers filthy things to her, causing her to melt even further and push her behind onto him, wanting to take control. They both missed each other so much, and they're finally getting their release.

"Missed you," Y/N manages to get out, almost losing her voice with how hard Harry's fucking her.

"I missed you more," Harry says back with a firm tug on her hair, sending the sensation of pain mixed with pleasure to her scalp. "M'all yours, too," he says as he gets close, and he can't wait to cum. "You want me to cum, baby?" He asks her because he knows how hot she thinks it is -- to perceive that she has the control (she really does. She could tell Harry to cum 30 seconds into sex and he would). "Want my cum inside?"

"Ngggh," Y/N gurgles, knowing she's close too. She breathes frantically and squeezes her walls around his cock as he scrapes his teeth against her neck. "Please."

In no time Harry cums, shooting from his tip deep inside her. His grip on her hair tightens, pulling her hair so tight it almost hurts, but she takes it. The burning pit in her stomach was ignited as well, set off as she felt Harry's cum paint her walls inside her. She cums, clamping down on Harry's dick and gripping the kitchen island for stability.

"Harry," she whines as her legs grow weak.

Harry gives a few more slow strokes of his cock before pulling out. His tip rests on her behind, leaving traces of their mixed juices on her skin. Harry shutters, feeling extra sensitive. He turn her around and falls against her body -- his head limp on her breasts. He falls to his knees and hugs her hips, giving her tummy a kiss before closing his eyes and sighing contently.

Y/N giggles breathlessly, tousling his hair. Just a few short minutes ago, their positions were reversed. She knows how tired and sleepy Harry gets after he cums (if they were in bed, he'd be fast asleep by now) so she lets him rest for a couple of minutes before encouraging him to look at her. Her hands on his face startle him (he was asleep) but he looks up at her with a loopy smile.

"Hi," he says innocently.

"Hey," she says back, still playing with his hair. "You okay?"

Harry stifles a laugh, burying his face against the skin of her stomach. "I haven't been this good in a long time."

Y/N's heart flutters. She knows what he's implying.

"Are we..." Suddenly Harry feels nervous. He doesn't want to say the wrong thing or make the wrong assumption.

Y/N helps Harry up to his feet and rubs the tip of her nose against his with her eyes closed. "I love you," she says simply yet truthfully. "Fuck that break."

Harry's laugh fills the kitchen. He pushes his forehead against hers, feeling as if his heart is going to explode. "I love you more."

[adverbally]

Take Me Where My Future’s Lyin’

Written for the @steddieangstyaugust prompt “Future” | wc: 731 | rated: T | cw: none | tags: job rejection, hurt/comfort, heavy author projection | title from “St. Elmo’s Fire (Man in Motion)” by John Parr

———

Steve hangs up the phone in a daze. Muscle memory takes over to lay the receiver back in its cradle. His gaze catches on the worn plastic, the kinks disrupting the cord’s neat coil.

“Hey, was that them? What’d they say?” Eddie sticks his head into the kitchen, a smile stretching his mouth wide with excitement.

The exact details of the conversation are already falling out of Steve’s memory, like water through a sieve. Are they even important, as long as the message was clear? “I didn’t get it,” Steve croaks.

Eddie freezes in the doorway. “What?”

He doesn’t think he can get any more words out, not with his throat squeezing like this, but he has to try. Eddie’s looking at him with so much worry, reaching out to comfort Steve without even knowing what happened, and it’s making Steve’s vision swim with tears. “I didn’t get the job. They’re going with someone else.”

“What the hell?!” Eddie protests. “You’ve been teaching there longer than anyone else who applied. You’re practically already the acting department head!”

“I know.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. They’ve been saying that all week, convincing themselves that Steve was the best candidate and he was sure to get the promotion. He had even believed it, after his last interview had gone so well. “I, um. They wanted someone with more leadership experience.”

Eddie’s growl of frustration isn’t directed at him, the logical side of Steve’s brain knows, but it still feels like it is. Probably because Steve is so frustrated with himself. His principal had personally encouraged him to throw his hat in the ring, telling him how proud he was of Steve for taking on extra responsibilities for the department and staying on top of everything despite the chaos of testing season. Apparently, that hadn’t been enough.

“You’re the best teacher in that whole damn school, they’re idiots if they think Linda Smith is going to do a better job than you,” Eddie is ranting indignantly.

Steve barely hears him. He can’t stop replaying the phone call in his mind, how Principal Lane had wanted to tell Steve about his rejection personally, before he could hear it through the grapevine. How he had promised Steve that he would find another way to help him advance, send him to training or some other bullshit professional development to put on his resume. How impressed the whole interview committee had been with his answers and his performance.

Just not impressed enough.

The disappointment sits like a rock in Steve’s gut. He‘ll have to go back to work on Monday, where every other second grade teacher will know that he applied and wasn’t good enough, and he’ll smile and shake Linda’s hand and congratulate her on getting the job he wanted. Hell, he’ll probably even have to help train her.

“Stevie?”

Eddie is blurry when Steve looks up at him, but he can make out enough to see his outstretched arms, waiting to pull Steve into his embrace. When Steve’s face crumples, Eddie is already hugging him close, kissing his temple.

“I know it’s just a job but I really wanted it,” Steve tells Eddie’s collarbone. His shirt smells so good, and he doesn’t want to move away to talk or breathe or let Eddie see him cry.

“I know, baby,” Eddie agrees. He does know; he’s been there for all the excited planning, helping Steve brainstorm ideas for how to spend his impending pay raise, looking at houses for sale and thinking about home improvement projects and creating an itinerary for a trip to visit Robin.

Steve shouldn’t have gotten so invested, no matter how optimistic he’d been about his chances. He had seen their future, with a big house full of kids and a job he was really good at and Eddie, loving him and believing in him, and he’d been ready for it. Now that door has closed and it hurts all the more since he’d gotten his hopes up.

“There will be other jobs,” Eddie murmurs to him. “We’ll get there eventually.”

“Yeah,” Steve sniffs against Eddie’s chest.

“In the meantime, we can have ice cream for dinner and talk shit about Linda.”

Steve’s laugh is wet but sincere. Whatever their future holds, he thinks he can handle it as long as Eddie is still there to figure it out with him.

[webslingingslasher]

spiderman saves cherry one time (but not even from smth serious) and suddenly she falls in love and tells peter ab her new obsession w him that she didn’t understand before and he’s literally cheering on the inside at how she’s closer to falling for him without realising

happy sunday!

--

'you know how you're always trying to get me to like spider-man?'

'yes.'

you hold the back of your hand to your forehead and dramatically swoon, your back lands on peter's bed. 'i've been swayed.' peter's got a strong feeling it's because you ran into spider-man today but he has to pretend he doesn't know that yet.

'did you have another dirty dream?' you gasp at the question, peter rushes out he was just joking. 'you're not funny, fyi.'

'you're cute when you have a crush.' you kick your feet on his bed, peter's being extra annoying. 'i don't have a crush! i was going to tell you i saw him today but nope, nevermind.'

peter knows how to work around your attitude. it's a special trick he's learned. 'you met spider-man? that's so cool, where were you?' you grin at him and start speed talking, peter loves being right.

'the bookstore! well, outside the bookstore. when i was leaving i was reading the back of a book and i walked right into him! i dropped my book and he caught me and when i looked up, bam, spider-man. he grabbed my book for me and asked if i was okay, like i didn't run into him!'

you replay the moment, you swoon again. 'ugh, petey, he was tall and so broad! it felt like i ran into a wall, but he was also like... i could've given him a hug and he wouldn't mind.' you lift your head up to look at peter, it's a similar feeling with him.

'i think he's kind of like you. cause you're mr. strong guy but you're the perfect amount of soft for cuddles. basically, i think i'm gonna marry spider-man.'

peter has to act like he's jealous, he doesn't mind. you like spider-man now and nothing else beyond that matters. if anything, this is a bonus for him.

'please tell me you didn't get his number, i can't compete with a superhero.'

'no!' you think about it for a second, you're not spider-man's number one fan but you see clips and articles online all the time. 'i don't think spider-man dates, i've never seen him out on one. but also, i don't think he can eat dinner with his mask on... wait, do you think he dates outside the mask and has to pretend he isn't spider-man?'

peter blinks two times, 'i don't know, i've never thought about it.' he's very flat with his reply. you huff, he's no fun. 'if you were spider-man, do you think i would know?'

'um, well, if you don't know i'm spider-man, then no, i don't think you would know.' you nod, he makes a good point. 'fair.' you keep thinking about it, you'd be thrown for such a loop if that happened to you.

'that's crazy. imagine dating someone for months or years and he tells you he's spider-man, i think i'd freak out. i wonder if anyone in his life knows who he is. wait, do you think there are people just walking around the city that know spider-man's true identity?'

peter didn't prepare himself for hypotheticals, he's wondering why he wanted you to like his alter ego so much. when you didn't care, you didn't ask questions.

'what do you think he looks like? i think he looks like you, he's probably cute. do you think he's our age? damn it, i should've asked him all of this when i had him in front of me.' you sigh again, searching for your phone you youtube his name and start watching compilations of fights caught on film.

'god, he could throw me around like nothing.'

peter grumbles out the corner of his mouth, 'i could throw you around like nothing.' you happily hum, the idea is enticing. 'could you wear the suit while you do it? wait, you better not, i wouldn't be able to stop myself from... things.'

you stare at the screen, you start to have flashes of imagery and you bite down on your bottom lip. 'oh god, i'm feeling a hyperfixation coming on.' spider-man is hot, his strength, his power, how fucking kind he is.

you sit up to look at peter, 'wanna makeout?' peter wants to know how he went from mentally begging you to like spider-man, to actually being jealous of how you fawn over him. 'i'm not a placeholder for your fantasies.'

'i never said you were. come kiss me... and maybe get between my thighs and make me feel good.' spider-man is attractive because of the mystery, peter's hot because, fuck, just look at him. peter's giving you a look that's testing, he's baiting you for more information. 'don't make me beg, it's not cute.'

'no, you just wanna kiss me because you're hot and bothered over spider-man.' it shouldn't bother him, but it does. 'i don't want spider-man's fingers in me, i want yours.'

'only because you can't have him.' you groan, he's dragging it out more than he needs. 'maybe i do, maybe he's not scared to touch me.' peter's quiet, you immediately fill in the silence. 'wait, that's me being bratty. i'm not trying to force you into sex.'

peter smiles, 'you can't force the willing, cherry.'

you pat the empty space between your legs, 'then will you come fill me up? please?' peter doesn't need to be asked a third time, you're instantly settled the second he's caging you under him and pressing his lips on yours.

peter's fingers drag up your thigh, you sigh into his mouth. 'mhm, spider-man.' peter's done, he pulls off you and you're whining and trying to keep him over you. 'no! i was kidding, i swear i was just kidding!'

'too late. you're cut off, think about your actions.'

'fine. but you know who would've found that funny?' peter raises his eyebrows, he knows what's about to come. 'say his name one more time and see what i do.'

'will you punish me and show me who i really belong to?'

and... oh, that has peter bricked up.

why didn't he think about that? he would have proved how much better he is, he could've kissed you breathless until you're babbling and only whimpering his name. and the way you're looking at him tells him this was more of a ruse than anything.

peter's never dated a brat, he's still learning your quirks. you blink pretty, you have a way of acting like an innocent virgin after saying something dirty, it's an unspoken card you always pull out when convenient.

peter grips the skin above your knees and pulls you into him, your hips slam into his. 'think you can be quiet this time?' you shake your head, peter grins at your messy hair. 'no?'

peter leans down, his lips brush yours. he whispers against your mouth, a hint of a kiss. 'didn't think so.'

and peter makes you say his name so many times, spider-man's is a distant memory. 

[narislvr]

HEY THERE, SUBW4Y GIRL

one-last-stop au ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ | e.williams x fem!reader

cw? reader is painfully bad at asking women out (she will get better dw) new characters introduced, plot is beginning, literally just fluff for now, book dialog and possible(not really) spoilers, not proofread

nari note ᝰ.ᐟ Hi! I just wanted to say thank you so much for all the support on the first part of this series, it really motivates me to keep going and I hope I don't disappoint! Im not staying entirely book accurate but If you've read the book and want certain scenes to show up then please let me know! If you'd like to be part of the taglist then lmk also! That's all for now, and thank you again ♡

m.list [๋࣭🪻] part one [ 🌆 ] palestine-resources & daily click

"The spark in Subway girls eyes ignites so brilliantly that August half expect her to jump out her seat. "Wait, that's my sandwich! I invented it!" ── page 35

Weekday evening shifts were your favorite.

The lights were always dim, painting the old diner atmosphere in hues of orange and amber, and with how slow it was, you weren't forced to run around hoping that table six wouldn't holler you over as you ran to get pancakes for table nine. It was actually quite nice at times.

Being a waitress at a 24/7 diner was not in your plans when you moved away from your last campus all the way in the other corner of the country, but Millers was nice. The building, despite it’s age and outdated fashion, was homey and even with the annoyance of leaving the place smelling like pancake batter and greasey bacon, it was a place youve come to hold dear in your heart.

Having a soft spot for the place and liking your job, however, didn’t mean that you were necessarily good at it a hundred percent of the time. Sleep deprived rushes particularly, made you loath coming in saturday evenings, but today was good.

The evening had been going relatively smooth so far. In the two and a half weeks you’ve worked here, your mistakes have leveled down to now and then little to mix-ups —not counting wedsdays slip up— and your boss, Eliza, had yet to come in and save the day by placing an extra plate of toast on your tray when you accidentally forget them in the kitchen.

With it being close to nine on a Thursday, work was slow, thus, you found yourself leaning on the front counter scribbling random drawings on your notepad with a Miller’s House Of Pancakes pen in hand. With the scribbling, you mindlessly began to reflect on your week so far; your first full day of lectures went well, and balancing work and lectures hasn't been so bad yet ──but then again, the semester just started. Rent was coming up and you had saved enough to pay your share of the apartment and really other than Monday morning's coffee accident, things have been good.

Monday morning…

Subway girl.

Truth be told, you hadn't stopped thinking about the pretty stranger you met on the train a little over three days ago. Sure, she may have only offered her kindness out of pitty at the sight of your teary face, but it was something touching to you nonetheless. It was something that she needed that day, spmething that went right. You didn't see her on your commute to work earlier today, and a part of you couldn't help but feel disappointed. She was just some girl ──green eyes, freckled cheeks, tall and teasing── you had talked to for no more than five minute and yet your mind couldn't stop replaying her smile and her fingers brushing the curve of your shoulders as she wrapped her scarf around you.

You were hopeless

Eliza comes up behind you, shaking her head with a tut of her tongue as she perches her elbow on the counter beside you. "Slacking off on the job, new girl?" Her brow was arched and despite the edge in her tone, you could tell she wasn't exactly scolding you for it either.

"Sorry," you respond as you straighten yourself up. There's a hint of a smirk on the women's face for a second before she shakes her head.

"You eat?" In the six hours you've been in shift, you hadn't eaten anything other than a pack of fruit snacks you'd taken from one of your roommates snacks in the pantry, but did she really have to know that.

‘Uhm, yes?”

"Liar. That's why you slack off. You don't eat. You have no energy," Eliza shakes her head calling out to the man on the grill before you were even able to argue back.

“Jesse!”

"What!" He responds, annoyance in his muffled voice.

“Ew special”

"I already made you one!" Eliza groans, responding with a "for the new girl, Jesse," in an even more annoyed tone before turning to leave at the sound of table 3 calling for more syrup.

What in the world was an ew special?

—

An Ew Special as it turns out, was a sandwich with hashbrown and some cheesy ketchup concoction which honestly, was way better than you expected.

The time on your cracked screen marked 10:07 as you made your way into the subway station for your commute back home. Atleast tonight you'd get a decent night's rest before another full day of lectures and another evening shift. And with that, you sat on one of the benches under fluorescent lighting waiting for your train.

Around your neck was the scarf from before, this time it being worn to keep you warm rather than to cover a stain on your shirt, and definitely not because it was a gift from the handsome girl from before. Nope.

It doesn't take long for your train to arrive, and as you walk in, you can't help but glance around for a familiar auburn haired girl. And again, she's not there, what were you expecting? She was merely a kind stranger, one of the few you've encountered and have never seen again, why would she be any different?

—

The following morning, you follow your usual routine. Wake up, take your vitamin c gummy and see if there's any breakfast worthy left overs before taking a shower, get ready, and leave the 4th floor apartment to make your way to your station. It was a nice routine, one you wouldn't mind repeating the rest of your days in Seattle with the exception of one new thing you've recently had the habit of doing: look around for the girl on the subway, Subway girl.

Subway girl was a smile lost in the tracks. A girl who showed up, saved the day, and blinked out of existence.

It was embarrassing the amount of times you've looked for her only for the same result, so, in order to save yourself another disappointment, you'd instead focuse on yourself and not look around.

And you don't look around, not intentionally atleast, not until a group of late-twenty year olds step off the car two stops into your ride and you catch a glimpse of a familiar auburn girl.

Subway girl. The flannel she had worn the day you'd first met her sat neatly on her lap alowing for a better view of the outlined tattoos on her arms as her white t-shirt sleeves were cuffed below her shoulders.

You couldn't believe your luck.

Her eyes were closed as her head leaned against the window sill, but as she felt your gaze from across of her, she slowly opened her eyes and her mouth formed a soft "oh" in surprise.

"Coffee girl," She smiles, sitting up in her seat as she turned to face you directly. There's a pleasant glint in her eyes as she looked at you, one that you hoped you'd see forever.

“Subway girl.”

Her smile spreads. “Mornin’.”

Your brain tries to reply with a "hi", perhaps ask about her day, but your mouth goes to say "morning", and so what comes out is, "Horny.”

Maybe it's not too late to jump out the emergency exit. You expect her to turn away, wonder why she'd even tried to talk to you, but instead she snorts.

Her eyebrows raise in amusement before she grins teasingly with her voice ever smooth, "I mean, sure, sometimes." She rolls her shoulders back and pulls down her faded green headphones, the ones you saw the day you met her, before setting them on her lap with her flannel and taking out her Walkman to pause her music. It was interesting, you'd never seen anyone actually use a Walkman ──much less walk around with it── but you didn't question it.

"Sorry, I'm─ morning brain. It's too early," you muster out and something shifts in her expression.

"Is it?" Subway girl asks with what seemed like genuine interest.

"Yeah, um... I had a late night.”

Her brows raise again, and you couldn't help but look away as she seemed to try and guess what it was that had kept you up. "Doing what?”

It's not necessarily a lie, but it's not exactly the truth, and really you just needed some cover to not look like an idiot after the word vomit from a moment earlier. "Oh, uh, I had a night shift. I wait tables at Miller's and it's twenty-four hours─”

"Miller's...? As in Miller's house of pancakes on the edge of the city?”

She rests her elbows on her knees and perches her chin on her hands. Her eyes are wide, and curious, her attention solely on you as she awaited your answer.

"You know it?”

She bites her lip, which is fine, and she shakes her head.

"Oh man, I used to wait tables there too," She says. "The owners would argue about how they wanted to name the place so it would always change until they stuck with that.. Jesse still in the kitchen?”

You laugh, her mind blown expression causing a flurry of butterflies in your stomach. Lucky again. "Yeah, he's been there forever. I can't imagine him ever not being there. Everyday as I clock in he's all─”

"Mornin' buttercup," She says in perfect imitation which earns another small laugh from you. "He's such a babe, right?”

"A babe? Oh god," Your reaction gets yet another snort out of her, and as the two of you meet gazes again you both fall into a fit of laughter. It was sweet, and nice, and maybe, just maybe, meant to be.

"Man, there's this thing they serve there now and.. God, it's delicious. I had it the other day, an Ew special'.”

The spark in Subway girls eyes ignites so brilliantly that you half expect her to jump out her seat. "Wait, that's my sandwich! I invented it!”

"No way! Really?"

"Ew is a play on to my initials E.W," She explains. "I had Jesse make it specual for me so many times that eventually everyone else started having them too. Can't believe he still makes them there. He might be in love with me or something," She quips.

"Maybe. He makes them all the time and it's absolutely delicious, it definitely brings you back after a long shift, so, thank you.”

“No problem,” Subway girl says. Shes got this far-off look in her eyes as if she were reminiscing on the sights of customers and the smells of the diner, but she shakes the look off and lets out an exhale. “God, I miss that place. I don’t know if you feel it but, something about it… It's magic.”

You don’t do magic, but who were you to say that when she looks so wistful as if there was a deeper meaning behind her words so you simply hum in agreement.

‘I don't know how they haven’t fired me yet. I’m not the worst waitress, promise, but I accidentally dropped a pie on a five-year-old two days ago. We had to give him a free T-shirt.”

It takes a second, but Subway girl laughs, loud and hearty before shaking her head. “You'll get the hang of it soon,” She says with so much confidence that you believe her instantly. “Small fuckin’ world, huh?”

“Yeah…” You agree. “Small fuckin world.”

A comforting silence lingers in the air as you smile at each other. Subway girl is the first to break it as she glances at the scarf sticking out of your bag, “Nice scarf, by the way.”

You forgot you still had it with you so you quickly go to take it out and hand it to her but subway girl is quick to hold up a hand. “I told you to keep it and besides,” she pulls out a blue plaid one out of her bag, “It's been replaced.”

You look between the scarf in your hand and the green eyed girl in front of you, “I, yeah– thank you again, so much. I wanted– I mean, it was my first day of class and i was already late and didnt want to show up looking–”

“Hey, I mean, Its not that you looked bad,” Subway girl counters. “You just… looked like you needed something to go right that morning. So.” She shrugs, and the intercom suddenly comes on, announcing a stop that was barely audible from how unusually garbled it sounded.

Subway girl points over at the board. “Thats your stop right? The one heading to the college?”

Shit. It was your stop.

You realize as you swing your bag onto your shoulder and glance at the girl across from you that you might never get this lucky again. You seeing her again after 4 days of disappointment could have just been the world messing with you, raising your hopes up only to have her leave for good leaving you with only the memory of the pretty subway masc who saved the day and left you wanting more.

“I’m working breakfast tomorrow. At Millers,” You blurt out as you stand up. “If you want to stop by I could sneak you a sandwich. As payback for the scarf y’know?”

Subway girl looks up at you with an expression so strange and unreadable that you feel your stomach drop, of course, you had to find a way to ruin this. Whatever “this” even was.

Her expression clears up however and she smiles again, “Oh, man. I'd love that.”

“Okay,” you say and start walking to the door, still looking at her. “Okay. Great. Cool. Yeah-” You were going to stop saying words any second now. God, you usually weren't this awkward about asking people out.

Subway girl only watches you go, an amused look in her eyes as she moves a strand of hair from her face.

“What's your name?” she asks.

You stop in your tracks and turn around accidentally hitting another passenger getting off with your bag. “Ah– It’s [ ]. My names [ ].”

Subway girl's smile softens as if she somehow already knew.

“[ ],” she repeats. “I’m Ellie.”

“Ellie.. Hi, Ellie.”

Subway girl, now known as Ellie, smiles. She brings her hand up to her face and gives you a small salute as you say her name, a dorky gesture but one you found endearing nonetheless.

There's a little warning bell to announce the door closing so you quickly step off while still trying to keep your eyes on the auburn haired girl.

“The scarf looks better on you anyways,” Ellie winks, and the Subway doors close in front of you.

TAG LIST ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ @seraphicsentences @amberputh @k1ssesworld @mikellie @williamellieslilho @boobdrug

[floylia]

# MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾

04. I’m so wet tonight 💌

Destiny and fate are liken to strings you can’t untangle with ease. Two simple words with inexplainable concepts. A belief split into millions of definition.

But this might be fate—a doomed fate.

Cerulean eyes meet yours upon striding inside the store. The contact lasts longer than necessary. But within those few seconds, recognition is acknowledged on both sides.

That fateful day when a guy embarrassed himself and you watched it unfold.

You thought that was the last of it. Perhaps not.

You scan the small dairy isle, searching for an energy drink and a bucket of ice cream, while ignoring the pleads in the back of your head—constantly screeching about the humiliating past.

But who are you to feel embarrassed for him?

Why do you feel shame in the first place?

“Cash or card?”

“Cash.” You pass him the total amount, grabbing the wrinkled change you had in your wallet.

He takes it hesitantly, “By the way, about last time...”

Here we go.

“There was a rat in the locker room so I ran out like that. As for what I said… I don’t remember why I did that. But I promise, I’m not… a pervert,” The last phrase was faint as he whispers it in a breath.

You chuckle, “It made me laugh, don’t worry.”

One moment ago he was a grey cutout, now colors are back in his face as a grin reaches the wrinkles of his eyes, “So we’re cool?”

He looks like a dog wagging his tail after seeing a treat.

You nod, “Was that bothering you for a while?”

He breathes a sigh of relief—staring at you as if he had been derived of oxygen, “Yes! I was tossing my body back and forth that night, because my head refused to stop replaying the scene every time I closed my eyes. Can you imagine yourself doing that? Here I thought I was being mysterious.”

Not a single bone in his body was mysterious.

“People remember their own embarrassing moments more than other people’s, don’t stress about it.”

He shows his paper white teeth, “You have a way with words.”

“And you don’t,” You blurt out, recalling that moment.

Laughter engulfs the tense atmosphere.

“Fair enough. Fair enough. I’ll never live that down. My friends tease me enough already,” he hands you your change and the plastic bag worth of snacks.

The pit-a-patter outside makes your head swerve towards the window. Rain droplets fall from the heavens, gearing up as you spend minutes inside the establishment.

Checking the weather today slipped your mind, otherwise you would have brought an umbrella. Even though your dorm is nearby, running through the heavy downpour is not something you enjoy doing on a school night.

Navia would jerk her head in disapproval.

The ginger must have realized your conundrum.

“Here,” He offers you a small black umbrella, “You can use this.”

“No, no it’s alright. You might need to use that later.”

He shakes his head, “The store owns it. We have extra. Just borrow it for tonight. Then you can come back and return it. Think of this as an apology.”

“Thank you. I didn’t want to be drenched today. I’ll return this, I promise!”

A gentle smile pervades his face as he waves a goodbye. He observes you, crossing the street from the foggy window until your silhouette fades with the night sky.

In truth, the store didn’t own the umbrella. They don’t have an extra. It was his — but that is his little secret.

No harm done with a white lie.

NOTES:

kinda rushed (wrote the written parts in one night, i dont usually finish fics in one sitting)

ig he gained aura points?

was gonna post this later but fuck it 🤷‍♀️

SYNOPSIS: There’s a line Childe knows he shouldn’t cross; A line built on years of friendship; A line that happens to cross you, his best friend’s younger sister, grieving her first love; A line where he plays savior, wears a halo, then feign ignorance, because love is a game for fools—and he happens to be the biggest idiot when it comes to love.

When a new stranger invades your life and an old poet writes back.

CHILDE x FEM!READER

masterlist | previous | next

TAGLIST (OPEN!): @thegalaxyisunfolding @stratusworld @tiramizuloz @miy-svz @trulyylee @batatinhafriita @scaradooche @yuminako @m1njizzie @mtndewbajablasted @fadedpinkpen @vavrin @kioffy @kokoomie @ashveil @tired-jaz @nia333 @riabriyn @kyon-cherri @kitsunetori @morgyyyyyyy @kazumiku @ichorstainedskin @hanilessa @s4ikooo1 @matolka @appy-slicez @monocerosei @mostlymoth @heathnyfangirl @meigalaxy

[fairykingjing]

Zoro x Reader-- Nap time

First time posting anything like this online so bear with me if it’s trash. Wanted to write some Zoro one shots and fics, then hopefully post a longer story later on.

Summary: You and Zoro have been training together for a while now, after he agreed to teach you some basics of fighting. You’ve found yourself growing closer to him and sometimes sit with him afterwords to chat, or just enjoy each other's silent company. Extra tired from that day's training, you find yourself nodding off… on Zoro! What will happen when you wake up?

WC: 536

Warnings: none, female reader, little bit of fluff, Sanji yelling, idk how this works yet but I'm figuring it out.

You found yourself pinned beneath the green-haired swordsman again, for the fifth time today. He had been sparring with you to assist in teaching you some fighting techniques, and he was winning of course. His strong muscles held you in place, and his face was only a few inches from yours. “You ready to tap out yet?” he teased. “I um, I guess so” you answered, blushing. You turned your head away quickly in a failed attempt at hiding your face. He pulled you up to your feet and you dusted yourself off. You couldn’t help but to replay that scene in your head and you quickly tried to walk off, muttering a thanks on your way. He was quick to grab your hand though and pulled you back to him.

“Hey, what's the hurry?” he asked confusedly. “Don’t we usually sit for a while afterword?”

“Oh, sorry, I’m just a little extra tired today,” you replied.

“Well, come sit with me and relax, then,” he insisted. You followed him to the shady spot on the Sunny where you usually spent your post training time to rest. Plopping down next to him, you let out a content sigh.

The two of you talked for a while, commenting on the days training exercise and how you could improve. Then, a comfortable silence fell over the two of you, and you felt yourself nodding off. It wasn’t long before you had fallen asleep.

You weren’t sure how long you slept for. But when you awoke to the sound of Sanji yelling, your eyes flew open, and you realized your head was resting on Zoro's broad chest. Blinking the sleep out of your eyes, you quickly jolted up and began apologizing repeatedly. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep on him like that.

“Quit apologizing,” Zoro said. “And quit yelling, cook. You interrupted our nap."

“What do you think you’re doing with your arm around her anyway?” Sanji yelled. “She would never want to be with you, moss head! She needs a true gentleman.” His words stung, and as you glanced over at Zoro you could tell he was bothered too. You hoped he didn’t believe those words.

“Actually, Sanji-” Zoro started to correct him, but you cut him off.

“I’m the one who fell asleep on him, not the other way around,” you informed. “Sorry to burst your bubble but maybe I would want to be with him.”

“You would do this to me, mon amore? You would choose him over me?” he gasped. He quickly left to sulk, probably feeling down about himself. You didn’t want him to feel bad or anything, but you also didn’t want to lead him on in any way. Looking at Zoro again, he stared back at you, chewing his lip.

“Sounds like we have some things to talk about,” he began. “But first I want to finish our nap.” He pulled you into his chest again and placed a soft kiss on top of your head. Before you could register what was happening, he was snoring, so you decided to get comfortable and nap some more too. You smiled to yourself, eager to see how things would go after you woke up again.

Thanks for reading, I hope your day is nice.

[inkdrinkerworld]

ahhh i love chubby!reader and spencer!! what if she overheard someone talking about her weight in a negative way and when she runs into spencer he instantly goes into his own kind of awkward comfort mode bc he secretly has THE biggest crush on you and any other time he would be VERY proud that he managed to get you to hug him but now you’re crying and oh no he doesn’t want you to be sad especially not over the way you look!!

It’s gross. To hear people make comments about your body behind your back in the way you do.

It’s all snide, backhanded comments disguised as compliments. Your stomach rolls because none of your team is near enough to hear them and you don’t feel like making a scene.

Your mind changes when you hear, ‘And it’s so obvious she likes him but what would he do with a girl like her? He’s less than half her size. She doesn't deserve someone like him.’

Your blood boils and you flick away imaginary dust and lint from your clothes before making yourself known.

“You might not like the way I look but you’re much more unattractive than you find me because that’s just vile. You should be ashamed of yourselves. It's none of your business but Spencer and I are dating.”

The local officers blanch and you walk off ignoring their stunned silence and stutters for an apology.

Your hands shake as you sit next to your team and you’re silly for thinking Spencer wouldn’t notice it. Spencer noticed when you had dusted the ends of your hair a week ago.

"Are you okay?" he asks, voice so low it's barely a murmur. Spencer's eyes remain trained on you as you nibble on your lip trying to decide what to do.

"I've been better," you say and Hotch saves you from more questions by instructing, "Y/N I need you to speak to the local police and get every name they have for people who came in."

No one else notices the way your back stiffens as you stand. Spencer does, "I'll go with her, and we'll call Garcia."

Spencer takes you to a secluded hallway and tips your chin up, "What happened, sweetheart?" it's cruel for him to whip that out at work, but it has the same effect it does when you're at home curled in his lap while reading.

"The locals were saying things about me- which is fine, I'm not everybody's cup of tea. But they were extra mean and rude about it." you debate whether to say the rest, but it comes out before you come to a real decision. "They said they don't know why I think I deserve your attention and they said you're too small to be with someone like me."

Spencer gasps like you've burnt him. He feels heat searing his chest as he replays your words. He doesn't know exactly how to comfort you without his words being hard and rough.

"But I stood up for myself," that eases some of the pressure in his chest. "I told them they should be ashamed of themselves and that I wasn't just some girl pining after you and we were together."

Spencer presses his forehead into yours. "I'm glad you stood up for yourself, but you shouldn't have to defend yourself at work or in general. You're amazing and stunning and you're more than anything I could've dreamt up for myself."

His words are soft, sweet and it melts the remaining worry in your bones that even though Spencer loves you, he had regrets.

"They're fucking assholes," he deadpans quietly and you laugh. "But we have a job to do so we'll be civil for the rest of the time we're here but the second we're done, we're messing with them."

[her-devils-advocate]

Pillow Talk

pairings: Femshep x Garrus

genre: fluff, comfort

summary: Shepard has finally been convinced to take a break from her work. Meanwhile, Garrus reflects on his relationship with Shepard and comes to the realisation that they both had feelings for one another a lot earlier than he initially thought.

Set during ME3.

word count: 1,517

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58434538

The quiet hum of the ship's engines echoes around the quiet room, occasionally broken by the bubbling of the fish tank’s filters when Garrus lets out a quiet sigh of relief, it had been a war of its own to convince Shepard to get some rest. He's still surprised he managed to get her bundled under the soft blankets with him. Now he only needs to get her to actually sleep, but knowing her, he will take what he can get. He can’t complain considering that either way, he gets to hold her for a few hours and she’s not running herself ragged with work.

It’s better to have her mind resting in any way it can, especially when she all but refuses to sleep.

Garrus looks down at the smaller woman, idly fiddling away with her omni-tool, the object casting a warm orange glow upon her face. A part of him thinks that he will never come to terms with just how lucky he is while another part of him fills with concern that she might be working still, but her reports don’t usually cause her to smirk at the orange screen, so he’s ready to let that concern die as quickly as it arose. While they cuddle in a gentle silence, he can’t help himself from subtly admiring her; from the way her silky hair brushes against the bare skin of her shoulders, down to the way her odd amount of fingers glide over the virtual interface around her arm. 

Back when he first got to know her, he had pushed down the flickering flame that ignited whenever she flashed him a gentle smile, fully convinced she would never have a flame of her own, not for him, at least. They had more important things to worry about at the time, a stupid thought in comparison to the not-so-stupid things they worry about today. 

He wants to smack his younger self for letting the chance to kick things off early go to waste. But as he watches her chew on her lower lip in thought, her eyebrow creasing slightly before typing away, he wonders if things are better this way. Sure, they haven’t gotten the chance to experience a relationship without the constant stress and anxiety that a suicide mission or war happens to bring, but they were both different people back then. Their strong relationship was built upon the back of such a close-knit friendship, after all. Despite that logic, Garrus’ mind can’t help but replay those tender moments from their hunt for Saren back to him, what-ifs filling the gaps in his memories when he thinks of the way she would gently rest her hand on his bicep after a particularly rough mission. The way she always sought him out first during her rounds of the ship, even though it would have made more sense to start with the crew deck. Or the way she would always extend an offer to him whenever she had a sliver of extra time to kill on the Citadel, usually while the Normandy was being refuelled or when they needed to stock up on supplies. 

His mind comes to a sudden halt and for a brief moment, Garrus would admit to being an idiot, just this once. A small giggle breaks him from his musing and he gives her a questioning look as she turns to gaze up at him.

"Joker's placed a bet on who's going to be the first to pick a fight with Javik. I'm not going to encourage that one, but I can't exactly say that I blame him." She explains, waving her hand dismissively.

Garrus lets out a chuckle of his own, muttering his agreement as he shuffles their positions, shifting to hold her in his arms from behind. She grins before turning off the omni-tool and leaning back to be as close to him as possible.

"Were you flirting with me?" He lowers his face to nuzzle her hair, causing his voice to come out muffled despite the embarrassed hum of his subvocals.

"You're going to have to be more specific, love, considering we're currently lying in bed together." Her voice is light and he doesn’t need to see her to know she’s smirking.

"I mean back on the SR-1, when you would come and chat with me while I worked on the Mako." He watches her fidget, burying her face into his arms wrapped firmly around her, almost as if it could hide her from his sharp eye.

"Oh..." She mutters quietly, her face flushing crimson.

"Are you really getting embarrassed over flirting with me back then, considering we are, and I quote, "lying in bed together"?" Garrus brings his hands up in front of her, making sure she can see the exaggerated air quotes while he pitches his voice up a few octaves, earning him a small scoff as she resurfaces. She gives his shin a playful kick with her heel before wiggling out of his grip so she can turn to face him.

"Hush, Vakarian. Yeah, I did flirt with you here and there. It wasn't the most obvious, but I had no idea you were that blind to it, are you really just noticing?" She tilts her head to watch his reaction intensely, a catlike smile taking over her expression as she notices the blue tint taking over his neck. She does her best to stifle her chuckle and reaches up to gently stroke one of his mandibles, "...Now who's the one getting embarrassed?"

“Yeah, well, I caught up in the end, didn’t I?” He does his best to sound confident, full well knowing the retort she was preparing, ready to shoot his way.

“Sure, but only because I had to risk an HR incident with you to test the waters.” The groan she gets from him in response causes her eyes to light up with glee, she then shuffles closer to rest her head against his carapace, sneakily stealing most of the covers as she does. He lets her get away with it, just this once.

He gently glides a talon up and down the length of her arm, never growing tired of the way her skin reacts to the touch, before pressing his mouth plates against her forehead. If anyone were to tell him back then that Commander Shepard would look adorable within the arms of a turian, Garrus probably would have laughed in their faces. If anyone were to tell him that she would look this adorable within his arms, well, Garrus would probably have passed out from laughter instead, not once believing that he of all people would be her choice. Now, he simply thanks the Spirits each day for the sight.

Shepard slowly rises in the bed, instantly catching his attention and before he can question her, she not-so-gently bumps her forehead against his and holds it there. Despite the adoration overflowing in his chest, he can’t help the bark of laughter that escapes him. He catches the confusion in her eyes and holds the back of her head before she can pull away, not wanting the moment to end so soon.

“You really need to stop hanging around Wrex and Grunt. A turian kiss is supposed to be gentle, not a krogan headbutt, sweetheart.” He lectures, subvocals humming with amusement as she rolls her eyes at him.

“That takes the fun out of things,” she retorts, her voice taking on a songlike tone as he lets out a small snort before she continues, “But yes, I was flirting with you back then. I wasn’t entirely sure if you weren’t catching onto it or if you were just not interested. Guess I got my answer there in the end, though you can see where we were both going wrong considering my own flirting skills were basically non-existent.”

“Were?” Garrus mutters, earning him a collision with one of the spare pillows.

“Hey, I’ve improved since we first started dating! Besides, you wouldn’t have me any other way.” She declares as she wraps her legs around his own and clings onto him tightly.

“You’re right, I wouldn’t” He punctuates his point by taking the blanket and re-arranging it, making sure she’s properly wrapped up as she begins to let out a small yawn, “Looks like it's time you tried to get some sleep and no arguing, I’ll be right here.”

She instantly goes to argue, despite his words, only to be stopped when he lightly presses his finger against her lips, effectively silencing her protests. She gives a small huff of defeat before nodding and he searches her eyes for a moment before dropping his hand, placing it between her shoulder blades and holding her close.

“If it distracts your mind and helps you fall asleep easier, you can just think of ways to improve your flirting techniques,” Garrus suggests flippantly as his own eyes flutter shut for the night and as unhelpful as his suggestion is, Shepard finds herself taking the advice and letting a dozen scenarios flood her mind, just for him.

[jurijyuu]

Scratch an Itch Extras: The First Sleepover

Author's Note:

Hello everyone,

In celebration of this fic receiving 100K hits on AO3, I decided to share an extra chapter. This comes right after the events of Chapter 20: Warm by the Fire and is a little peek at the kind of relationship Ynna and Alastor established when they opened up to each other more.

Once again, I am very honored to receive your support for this story. I'd like to make a shoutout to @ritualofcirice and @silva-daemonium for being the first friends I made from this fic. You both have been my dearest darlings these last few months and I am so very thankful to have met you. I don't think I would have ever tried to step into the fandom without you and I would still be just a little writer in her lonely corner of the internet.

@chefskjssart @fraugwinska @macabr3-barbi3, thank you for being there to inspire my art and writing.

I am always in awe of all the wonderful creators I've met just this year through fandom. It's such a beautiful thing to be able to share my love of fanfiction with others.

With Love, Juri

Alastor’s POV

She didn’t take her hand back from him.

As her breathing evened out and her pulse quieted to a steady rhythm, her hand remained held by his own. The marks where he’d bitten her stood out against her skin. He turned those fingers gently, using the light of the fire to reaffirm his work. 

A part of him still could not believe that she’d allowed him a nibble. Another part of him reveled in it. Foolish little one, offering penance for a non-offense. And oh how she offered it! Freely and unafraid. He didn’t expect her to agree when he’d jokingly asked for it but how she proved him wrong.

Fire danced in his veins as he replayed the last few moments. 

She’d held his gaze, reassuring and unflinching, a spark of curiosity briefly dancing in those entrancing depths at the first prickles of his teeth. He had wanted to continue watching her, to see her reactions. Would she be pained? Disgusted? Would she regret it? Would it be possible that she felt the same desire she’d awakened in him now that she watched him partake of her?

But her stare remained sincere, soft and caring, just like his dream. He closed his eyes, not wanting to break that image. It brought about heightened familiar sensations and he didn’t want her to see the things that screamed in the back of his gaze.

He’d gotten everything from her this evening. Her company, her bite, her laughter and her delight. Now, she even offered her flesh for him to chew on. What else could he ask for? His heart hammered in his chest as the first copper drops hit his tongue. It took everything in him not to make a sound when all the nerves in his body rang with joy and dark delight. They rippled and sang, urging him to take on his demonic form and run wild. To devour and be devoured. He’d eaten countless sinners before yet none of them could compare to the few drops of her life’s essence, freely given.

His mind felt foggy, overtaken with a need to savor the moment and bask in its proximity to his ideal. Proximity, yes. Even though fire and electric delight rushed in his veins, something howled in the back of his mind that it wasn’t enough. Not yet. 

He wanted more. So much more. To feel her breath against his skin again, to feel her warmth as she threatened to tear through him. For her to know exactly what she did to him, how she fed this insanity that had bloomed in the wake of her carelessness, and for her to keep doing it. For him. He had half a mind to show her exactly that, to take her under him and let her feel ALL that she did to him. Let her take responsibility for it. But the pulse fluttering from where his fingers lightly held her wrist, tempered his half-delirious state. 

Patience. He needed patience. He took as much as he could from the cuts he made, reminding himself of all the mental exercises she’d put him through to hide this frightening desire from her. It was a blessing that she’d given in this much already. He should be thankful and satisfied, for now.

And the reward for keeping up a calm facade?

She didn’t take her hand back from him.

It was as much permission as he needed to stay beside her this evening. Even as his insides buzzed violently in victory, he didn’t need to chant his way into the dream realm this time.

Ynna’s POV

The bright rays of the Pentagram streamed from your window, hitting at just the right angle to irritate your eyes. A minor headache attacked your foggy brain before everything cleared up and you fully awoke. The memory of last night returned to you. Out of curiosity, you turned to the spot next to you, wondering if the Radio Demon had decided to leave some time after you fell asleep.

What greeted you was a black swirling mass, tendrils of smoke and shadow wisps rising at least two feet tall and spreading across your bedroom floor. They swirled over and around you like a dark fog. They felt like nothing and if you hadn’t opened your eyes, you wouldn’t have even known they were there. 

Were you still asleep? What kind of unconscious thoughts floated in your head to give you such a strange dream? As you tried to sit up, a slight pull weighed tugged at your arm. One of your hands disappeared into that black mass, tendrils creeping up to your elbow. For a moment, you were mesmerized by the soft curling motions.

You followed the numb line of your arm to see two harshly glowing red dials floating in the darkness. The moment you saw them, static screeched high and the tendrils shot up to your face quickly. You screamed.

“Ahhh fucking shit!!”

Scrambling backwards, you yanked your hand back. Your elbows scraped against the carpet as you tumbled around the pillow mountain you’d been sleeping on. The slight burn was enough for you to think that this might not be a dream after all which meant you were in danger. A velvety pillow with lots of buttons was immediately grabbed to use as a weapon or shield against that monster.

At your scream, the mass shifted, first getting bigger as if to engulf the room before it retreated into the figure of a person, Alastor. The redhead groaned as he came to consciousness, a snarl of a smile on his face as his eyes adjusted to the lighting and he tried to understand what was going on.

“What are you doing?” He hissed, eyes back to normal as they narrowed against the light.

“Me? What about you? Why were you covered in shadows? What was that thing?” You stared at him in disbelief, slowly trying to piece together an explanation for what you saw. Cautiously, you crawled closer to him, unsure of whether this truly was your friend and not a mimic or something. When he looked at you like he was about to suffocate you with the pillow you held, you elaborated on the shadow mass that had been occupying his space just seconds ago.

“Ah. That.” He scrubbed a hand down his face, a look of utter pain and misery evident in the way his eyes glared at nothing in particular. “That’s just how I sleep. The shadows offer protection when I’m unconscious.”

“Oh.” It made sense. Someone like him would have had more defenses given he was so powerful. The shadow mass had been ominous and big enough to devour you into its pitch black nothingness. Anyone who happened upon it would have thought twice about approaching. 

Even now, safe in the knowledge that it was just your friend, your heart still pounded, mind on alert for danger. Still, a giggle bubbled up your throat before bursting out. What a relief and what a stupidly creepy thing to turn into in your sleep. Alastor was such a freaky man.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. I just learned something new about you today.” Now that the danger was sorted out, you got a chance to see the usually elegant man look pouty and disgruntled. His eyes stayed narrowed and his hair stuck out in places. There were visible wrinkles in his suit and a slump to his posture. It was so different from his polished appearance yet still so very him. 

“Well, go learn it a little more quietly. I have a terrible headache.” He scoffed before grabbing your pillow shield, plopping back down on your floor and laying on his side away from you. He shimmied out of his coat and made himself comfortable, grunting and scoffing as he dealt with what must have been a huge hangover, you realized. It was terribly bratty behavior, acting like he owned the spot where he curled up.

You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from laughing some more. It was cute of him. And who ever thought you’d associate cute with Alastor of all people? But there he was, about as graceful as a toddler threatening to throw a plushie at you. In your mind, you cooed at him. Poor little radio deer, having to deal with the consequences of alcohol consumption.

“I can hear you laughing.” He snarled, voice rough, and you couldn’t help the grin that broke out on your face.

“I swear I’m over here just breathing.” He turned on his side to face you, still scowling. You were aware that your face betrayed how amusing you thought he looked and he certainly did not like it. Of course, you felt like rubbing it in.

You laid down to rest on your stomach until you were face to face with his scowling too-early-in-the-morning-for-this countenance. Come to think of it, wasn’t this just a reversal of how you both lounged about last night? Alastor on his stomach while you laid there looking at him.

The only difference was that only one of you was having a good time right now. 

“How are you so chipper?”

“I get drunk fast which means I don’t drink nearly enough to leave me hungover.” It was a lovely perk of being lightweight. Never overspend on alcohol and you rarely, if ever, had a hangover. You felt pretty cheeky, seeing his ears pull back. It was cute even though it was a sign of annoyance. Still, teasing a cranky Alastor too much sounded like a recipe for disaster.

Standing up with your legs that you just noticed no longer stung, you stretched until all the funny tension left you. Looking down at the unimpressed demon, still squinting in the morning light, you couldn’t help but think that it was nice to have sleepovers like this. If only to be able to see him so petulant and carefree.

“I’m going to make breakfast. Do you want me to bring you some?” With a whispery voice, you offered.

“Urghh. That reminds me. I need to make food.” Sluggishly, he sat up, face twisted in his smiling version of a snarl. He looked ready to murder somebody.

“I doubt anyone else is awake so I think it’ll be fine if you skip cooking today. I can take over too if needed.” 

“…you can cook?”

“You thought I couldn’t? I’m a full grown adult, you know? Anyway, did you want food? Or coffee?”

“Caffeine sounds excellent, right now. Allow me to escort you.” His long legs started to curl under him, taking much more effort to stand than it should have. It was sad and funny. You stopped him.

Even as in pain as he was, little pieces of his usual proper exterior were already shifting back into place. His posture slightly straightened and he made an effort to soften his scowl. You felt it a pity that the loose and unrefined him only lasted a few short minutes. You placed a hand on his shoulder, telling him not to get up. 

It took only a light press for him to obediently pause and you couldn’t help but capture some of his fringe in your fingertips. You played with the smooth ends before carding your fingers through them, fixing a fly away strand back into place. He didn’t flinch nor fling you off as you did so and it caused a surge of last night’s adoration for him to return to you.

“No. It’s fine. I can go by myself and bring up some for you. Are you going back to your suite? You can feel free to stay here till you feel better too.” He stared at you for a little bit, static crunching loudly like white noise. You imagined a little beeping screech to go with it. It made his irritated blank look even funnier to compare him to a dial up router trying to connect to the Internet.

He must’ve noticed that you were mentally making fun of him because his eye twitched. Playfully, he snapped at your hand which you immediately took out of range of his teeth. You personally knew how sharp they were now and weren’t interested in knowing how it would hurt if the man actually wanted to weaponize them. 

But he was acting loose again and he clutched one of your pillows to his chest with a huff. Guess he was staying. 

You smiled at that and took it as your cue to leave. As you stepped out the door, you turned back to him who was just squinting crankily at the spot where you had stood. Oh this poor guy. For someone who drank so much, he was really bad with hangovers.

“Feel free to move to the bed if you wanna go back to sleep.” With that, you closed the door and went to go get breakfast.

Alastor’s POV

How aggravating. The light in the room was too bright as Ynna kept her windows open to let pentagram light in for her plants. It stung his eyes and contributed greatly to the blasted headache behind them. And then there was the goat herself, chipper and happy first thing in the morning. And it was morning. The little clock on the wall said it was a little passed 8. 

She was too happy while he sat here in misery. 

While he knew that he had consumed more alcohol than usual, he hadn’t thought it was to this extent. He must’ve presented quite a sorry appearance since Ynna, for all her efforts to stifle her amusement, was actually not putting in that much effort in doing so. The little brat.

His ears picked up everything, senses hightened just to torture him some more. Her soft breaths as she faced him, the crunch of her hooves against the carpet. He had half a mind to pin her down with his shadows so she would stop moving and he could go back to sleep but then she offered to make coffee. With her sweet eyes watching him, she brushed his hair with her fingers. Some of his irritation melted away with those fleeting touches and he wondered why he’d taken so long to permit her this casual contact. Clearly, they both enjoyed it.

When she asked if he wished to stay, his sensibilities told him it was inappropriate to do so. But he was neither in the mood to care about decorum nor inclined to leave the perfectly comfortable space they inhabited together. The choice seemed obvious.

As she left, his mind finally processed her parting words. He eyed her bed, noting the other blankets and pillows still on it. Since she offered anyway…

He shadowed under the covers, digging his head under the small plush pile of cushions to block out the light. In the comfortable darkness, her scent surrounded him. It massaged that constant pulsing ache behind his eyes and he found himself starting to drift off to sleep again. 

She really was too unassuming, too open to sharing her space with her friends. But at least she opened that space to him…and he was all too happy to take advantage as he dug into the knitted blankets and linen sheets, letting his eyes rest.

The next time he opened his eyes, it was half an hour later and Ynna had brought in a tray of food. Toast, scrambled eggs, bacon and strawberries were neatly arranged on two plates. A carafe of coffee and their mugs right next to it. He eyed her mug. They’d bought it during one of their lunches. She had laughed when she saw the design saying ‘I wet my plants’ and instantly bought the thing.

They ate breakfast that morning sat in her bed and true to her word, he stayed and enjoyed the comfort of her room until he was ready to leave hours later.

Coffee that morning had been delicious.

[multifandomxreader]

Hi! Idk if you’re taking requests or not, but I really love your work, and I was wondering if you wanted to do another Daryl one? Based off of it inspired by the song Night Shift by Lucy Dacus that takes place before and after the apocalypse. You can pick time frames/eras I’m not super picky about that I’ve just been thinking about this angst/fluff idea for a while and I’m not the greatest writer in the world. Totally fine if not! Please feel free to ask me questions if you need clarity

Night Shift

Daryl Dixon x Male reader

(I love the song it's so good!!! Hope you enjoy this! Sorry that it took so long)

tw: homophobia, violence...

You worked a thrift store before the apocalypse, Daryl was a regular there and you had your eye on him. You would always strike up conversations and after getting to know him better you would set aside clothes you knew he would like. For example a sleeveless jacket, which you decided to add wings to because it fitted him. You knew he was struggling with money so you convinced him to work in the store. He agreed to it because his brother was in jail so he had nothing holding him back from changing his way of life.

You started spending more and more time together because you worked the same shifts. You noticed how nice he is to the kids visiting the store, seeing his softer side made you realize your crush had turned in to something more. So one day you gathered the courage to ask him out after your shift. He freaked out and ran. When he got home he kept replaying the moment in is head, remembering his brother’s slurs and his father’s hits. He spent the night overthinking but came to the conclusion that they weren’t in his life anymore but you were and he sure wasn’t giving up on you so quickly.

The next day the first thing he did when he saw you was apologizing, you understood and made sure he knew he could always talk to you if he was struggling with things. You took him out to dinner the same evening and everything evolved from there. You start dating and everything was going great. In the beginning it was kinda rough but Daryl opened up eventually and you made sure he felt loved. After a few months you moved in together and even got a dog named Dixy. You were together for a year before your happiness came to an end.

You had finished your mutual shift and walked out the store hand in hand, you kissed Daryl’s cheek. You were planning a movie night and were discussing which snacks you were going to buy before a crusty looking redneck came up to you. Daryl froze and pulled his hand out of yours, you didn’t have enough time to realize it was Merle and you didn’t have enough time to dodge his fist going towards your face. You fell to the ground and the only thing you remember where more punches, slurs and Daryl’s voice getting his brother away from you. You lay there in pain when your coworker found you and got you to a hospital. The bruises didn’t hurt as much as the realization you had when you got back to your flat. Daryl wasn’t coming back, he had left your life without any goodbyes, without any tears, without any notice.

You carried on, changed appartements, changed your shift to the night shift so you wouldn’t run into his brother looking for more trouble. It had been a week since the accident when the pandemic broke out. You were one of the lucky ones that got out of the city in time. Ever since you’ve been wandering around with your dog, she was the reason you were still alive that, and the thought of Daryl still being out there.

You keep going, Dixy walking besides you, if temperatures kept rising you would have to find extra water but for now you were set on just moving forward, following the road. You were just about to sit down to rest when a bunch of walkers came out of the woods. Dixy barks and you grab your machete, with this many walkers you would usually just run but they seemed to emerge from everywhere. You chop a few heads off while Dixy puts her teeth into a walker’s neck. The walkers keep coming and you start to panic, suddenly you hear a car’s engine approaching. Any other day you would’ve hid but you would rather face some strangers then get eaten by some dead creatures so you ran towards the car. It swerved, hit a few walkers and a man and woman got out. The man holding a knife and the woman holding a katana. Together you finish the hoard off.

You are covered in guts and blood just like your guardian angels. You thank them while checking if Dixy is alright and introduce yourself. The man seems hesitant to talk to you but the woman replies “I’m Michonne, this is Rick” Rick nods at you and shares a glance with Michonne. He looks back at you “How many walkers have you killed?”

And that’s how you find yourself in a car on the way to a place called Alexandria. You chat a bit with Michonne and immediately like her, she is someone who you would’ve been friends with before the world ended. You could tell Rick was a bit more careful, the closer you got to Alexandria the tenser he got. “Hey man, I understand that you don’t know me but I really am glad that you saved my life and I look forward to becoming friends.” You tried to ensure him that you were one of the good guys, you totally understood his attitude, you too had met the more unpleasant types out there. Rick hummed “It’s cool man, we’ll see.”

The car approaches the gate and you feel the nerves in your gut, you can finally see a brighter future. Living in a community again, having friends, feeling safe, it was the best thing you could ask for in this world. The gate opens and your eyes widen at the sight. The car parked and you get out. You get some strange looks but after handing in your weapons and Rick introducing you, people start coming up to you to introduce themselves. Dixy was getting petted by some kids and was enjoying herself when woman came up to you with cookies “I’m Carol, welcome to Alexandria!” You thank her for the cookies and eat one of them because you were actually quite hungry. “These are really good!” you acclaim and she shrugs it off. You were in heaven.

Suddenly Dixy starts barking, everyone tenses and you search for the source of her vigilance. The first thing you notice is a motorbike, the second thing you notice is the love of your life next to it working on it. He looks up to look at the noise and your heart starts beating rapidly. Before you know it your legs run toward him and you yell out his name. He realises what’s happening and drops the wrench to run your way. Your bodies collide, your face in the crook of his neck and your arms wrapped around his torso. Everything is too much and you let out a sob. You take his face in your hands to make sure he’s real. His eyes are watery and his smile is a mix between happiness, confusion and repent. “I’m sorry I left” his voice breaks a bit. “I don’t care Daryl, I’m just glad we found each other again.” You kiss him softly, look into his eyes and kiss him again. You were never gonna let this man leave again.

You let go of each other and notice the people around you being astounded by the whole scene. Dixy is now circling Daryl and he gives her a few belly rubs. “So, I assume you two know each other” Michonne comments with a smirk. “Yes” you answer while taking Daryl’s hand in yours, this time keeping it there. Maybe this wasn’t really the end of the world.

[magicfootballstuff]

Superstar (patri guijarro x reader)

Summary: Even big players get nervous before big finals. Patri is no exception to that.

———

You never fall asleep straight away the night before a big match and tonight is no different.

Football doesn’t get much bigger than tomorrow. Your first Champions League final in front of a sold out crowd, a chance to win the most prestigious trophy in club football.

You’re not nervous. At least not yet. Nor is it excitement that keeps you awake. More the anticipation of such a huge game. You’re going to have to be at your absolute best tomorrow, to play football like you’ve never played it before. 

With that thought, you’re just starting to wonder if maybe you are nervous after all, when your phone lights up on the nightstand beside your bed. You prop yourself up onto one elbow to peer at the screen and see an incoming call from a number saved in your contacts as nothing more than ‘❤️’, and you reach for the phone to answer.

“I can’t sleep,” your girlfriend says as soon as you pick up.

Rolling onto your back with your phone held up to your ear, you reply, “So you decided you’d wake me up too?”

“Your phone is always on silent. I knew you wouldn’t answer unless you were still awake too.”

Though there’s a hint of teasing in Patri’s voice, her tone is familiar and soothing, and you have no doubt that if you stayed on the line and just let Patri talk, you’d find that sleep isn’t so hard to succumb to after all.

“So, do you want to talk about what’s on your mind or do you want me to distract you?” you ask Patri.

“Depends what kind of distraction you’re offering,” Patri replies, her voice low enough to cause a stirring deep in your gut.

“Patricia,” you warn her, before the conversation can descend into complete filth.

“Sorry,” Patri apologises, her voice back to normal. “But I don’t think I’ve ever been nervous like this before a match. Excited-nervous, yes. But not scared-nervous.”

“What are you scared of?” you ask.

“I just keep replaying last year’s final over and over again. That feeling when the final whistle went, when we knew we’d lost, I don’t want to ever feel like that again.”

“Then don’t lose,” you say, as if it’s that simple.

“That’s easy for you to say. You’ve never played in a Champions League final before.”

“No, you’re right,” you admit.

This is your first season with Barcelona, having only signed for them last summer. But you know that the Champions League is all they strive for. They talk about it more than any individual match, more than winning the league. For them, winning the Champions League is the only option. To lose would be the ultimate failure.

You’ve heard them talk about last year’s final. The further the team has progressed through the competition this year, the more they talk about it, and the more you’ve come to realise how much that loss affected them mentally. Not just to lose, but to lose the way that they did, after being heralded as the favourites. You don’t know exactly what they felt that day when they didn’t win, but you hope you never find out.

“How did you feel when you lost last year?” you dare to ask, knowing that it’s a question that risks opening old wounds, but one that you think you need to ask.

“Like a failure,” Patri answers straight away. “Like I wasn’t good enough. Like I’d let everyone down - the team, my family, the fans.”

“And how did it feel the year before, when you beat Chelsea in the final?” you ask as a follow up.

“The best feeling in the world.” You can hear the smile in Patri’s voice as she recounts what you know to be the best day of her life. “I felt invincible. I felt so much love for this team, so proud to be culé.”

“The fact that you’re so scared of repeating last year is a good thing, no?” you ask.

“I guess so,” Patri hums.

“Because you can channel that pain into success tomorrow,” you continue. “It’s not that you didn’t fight to win last year, but now you have an extra reason to want to win.”

“I think if we lose tomorrow, it might break me,” Patri confesses. “I’m not sure I’ll ever recover.”

“You will,” you promise her. “You recovered from last year. Going through something like that makes you stronger. If we lose tomorrow, we come back fighting even harder next year. But I don’t think we’re going to lose. I don’t think you’re going to let that happen. We’re taking that trophy back to Barcelona, I can feel it.”

“I really hope you’re right.”

“I’m usually right,” you tease her, to lighten the conversation, and Patri jumps at the chance to change the subject.

“Come to my room,” Patri practically purrs down the phone.

It’s tempting. The worst thing about away games is having to sleep apart from your girlfriend, but everyone gets assigned their own rooms for a reason and out of all the couples on the team, you don’t want to be the ones who get told off for breaking the rules right before such a big game.

“I can’t,” you remind her. “You know I’ll get in trouble if I get caught.”

“Then don’t get caught,” Patri says in a mocking voice, and you wonder if she’s making fun of the way you told her to simply not lose tomorrow’s Champions League final. When you still hesitate, she tries to tempt you by adding, “You don’t win Champions League finals by playing safe.”

“You also don’t win Champions League finals by staying up all night before the match with your girlfriend instead of sleeping,” you counter.

Patri doesn’t say anything, but you hear some noises on the other end of the line, some rustling, some heavy breathing, followed by the distinctive sound of a door being closed.

“Patri?” you ask, worried that your girlfriend is in the process of doing something that will get you both in a lot of trouble. “Patri, what are you doing?” 

“Coming down to see you,” she whispers, confirming your theory, and you picture her creeping along the hallway of the floor above, sneaking past the rooms where your teammates and the Barcelona staff sleep. “What was your room number again?”

“Patri…” you groan.

“I’m already on my way. Don’t make me knock on every door until I find you. That would definitely get us in trouble.”

“It’d get you in trouble,” you point out, denying all accountability for your girlfriend’s misbehaviour. “I’m fast asleep in my bed.” You pause, then add, “In room 314.”

“Yes,” Patri hisses. “Thank you baby. See you in a second.”

She hangs up the phone, leaving you to expect her imminent arrival. You flick on one of the bedside lamps to bathe your hotel room in a soft orange glow, then peel back the covers to get out of bed. Your room is a bit of a mess but you gather the clothes strewn around and toss them into your open suitcase, then hang the damp towel that was on the floor over the back of a chair to dry.

No sooner have you finished making the room look semi-presentable, do you hear a couple of gentle taps on the door.

Your heart does a little flip in your chest as you open the door to see Patri standing out in the hallway in her pyjamas, a big grin on her face as she greets you.

“Hi,” she says.

“Come in,” you say, ushering her inside. “Quick, before anyone sees you.”

Patri steps past you and launches herself onto your bed, arms spread wide and face pressed into the pillow your own head was laying against just a couple of minutes ago.

“Please, make yourself at home,” you say sarcastically, as you close the door behind her.

Patri rolls over onto her back and tucks her legs under the covers, before tapping the vacant spot on the mattress beside her.

“Plenty of room for two,” she tells you, raising her eyebrows in an invitation.

You climb into bed beside her, flicking off the lamp to shroud the room in darkness again, and pulls the covers up over you as Patri nestles against your chest, her arm draped across your waist.

“How are you feeling?” you ask her, bringing one hand up to the back of her head and stroking your fingers through her hair.

“Better now,” she murmurs. “I always feel better when I’m with you.”

“Then it’s a good job I’ll be on the pitch with you tomorrow,” you joke, and Patri hums in agreement.

Maybe that’s why you’re not nervous. It could be naivety, not yet fully understanding the enormity of tomorrow’s task. But it’s also a comfort to know that you get to do it with Patri, to experience days like tomorrow with the most important person in your life. If you win, you get to celebrate together, and if you lose, you have each other to lean on for support.

“In all seriousness, you know I’ve always got you,” you promise Patri. “Whatever the outcome tomorrow, you’re always making me proud. You’ll always be my number one.”

Patri says nothing, her breathing steady and the weight of her warm body against yours the comfort that you needed when you were first trying to find sleep earlier in the night before Patri’s phone call.

“But I think you’re gonna do something special tomorrow,” you continue. “I can feel it. My superstar is going to show the world why she deserves to be called the best in the world.”

Patri would normally have one of two reactions to you hyping her up like this - either to preen and play up to your words, or to pretend to get shy and act like she isn’t worthy of your praise. But when she does neither, you glance down at her to look for the reason for her silence, and are met by the sight of your girlfriend fast asleep on your chest, eyes closed and a picture of peace on her face. 

You slowly stop playing with her hair, but press a tender kiss to the top of her head instead.

“Sweet dreams, my superstar. Tomorrow we win the Champions League.”

[a1307s]

Kinks #2

(Conner Kent Smut)

[Art work is not mine! Credit to evinist]

Requested by: jasontoddloverblog

Keys:

Y/N: Your Name

Word Count: 6,602

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Slight domestic violence

Cursing

Hickeys/Brusies 

Oral (male and female receiving)

Creampie

Hair Pulling

Choking

———————————————————————

     "Conner, my guy!" Roy yells as he walks into Wally's bedroom. It's been about a month since our last 'boy's night' and Wally decided we need another one. I don't know why we need another one, or the first one to begin with, but I'm still here like I'm supposed to be. Even though I'd much rather be in Y/N's bed with her.

     We've been having the sex. Or sex. We've been having sex. Y/N doesn't like when I call it 'the sex'. She says it ruins the mood when I word it like that. We've been having sex a lot, almost every day.

     Sometimes, usually, when she gets into a fight with someone, we have sex more than once a day. When that happens, it ends up happening somewhere that's not her or my bed. Last time it was on the kitchen counter. I don't enjoy having sex outside of our rooms, but she does so I usually try not to worry about someone seeing us.

     Despite that, until yesterday Y/N wouldn't have sex with me. I kept asking her why and she only told me it would be messy. Her noes only lasted a couple of days so I don't think she was saying no because of me. Her reasoning doesn't make sense to me. It's always messy. We get stuff all over our legs and the bed sheets. I let it be though. Kaldur told me it's important that we both say yes and if one of us says no, then the other needs to leave it be.

     "Roy," I answer back, debating if I should also add a 'my guy'. I decide not to.

     "I hear you've been getting busy!" He cheers, almost singing his statement.

     I think over his statement for a couple of minutes, replaying the last couple of weeks in my head. I don't think anything extra has happened. I've had the same amount of missions and the same amount of repairs to do. "I haven't been any busier than normal," I finally answer, looking at the other hero a bit confused.

     "No, Sups. Busy," he repeats, singing the last word again as he pumps his arms by his waist and moves his hips forward. "You know, with Y/N."

     Once again, I think over his words. Y/N and I have been hanging out more. We watch movies sometimes after sex, or we'll take a bath together, or she'll just lay with me for a while. She calls it 'aftercare' and says it's important for our mental wellbeing. I don't see why it matters. As far as I know, after Robin and Zatanna have sex, Zatanna just leaves. But it makes Y/N happy, so I do it. It makes me happy too, I just don't understand why we need to do it. I like spending time with her, so I don't care what we're doing as long as I'm doing it with her.

     "I guess so. We've been watching movies together," I answer, assuming that's what he means.

     "You crack me up, Bud" Roy says, his words followed with a chuckle before he sits next to Kaldur on the ground.

     "Sup, my guy, my man!" Wally calls, walking up to me and placing his hands on my shoulders. "Roy is talking about you having sex with Y/N," he tells me, shaking me a bit as he speaks.

     "You guys know about that?" I ask, still being shaken around by my teammate.

     "Yes, we do. You're not exactly hiding it," Robin says, his usual smirk on his face. "Y/N's been pretty open about her hand necklace."

     "Her what?" I ask, confused once again. I'm starting to hate these 'boy's nights'. They also end with me being confused about stuff.

     "Bla, bla, bla. Enough pitter-patter. I want details!" Roy says, waving off my question. "Does she give good head?"

     "Does she taste good?"

     "Did she let you creampie her?"

     "Is Y/N your girlfriend now?"

     "Is she a moaner or a screamer?"

     "Does she look hot in doggie style?"

     "What's her body count?"

     "I bet her titties look good when she rides you. Are they soft?"

     Questions are thrown at me from all directions, and from all the teammates - well, besides Kaldur. All the noise is upsetting me. Their questions make no sense, making me even more confused. Besides, who gives them the right to ask those questions? To know the answers to those questions? Y/N is having sex with me, not them. That must mean something, right? Maybe she is having sex with them.

     More questions are asked as I stand up and walk out of the room. I don't have the patience for this. I need to calm down before I hurt someone. I don't like them asking those questions about Y/N. I don't like them wanting to know the answers either.

     I especially don't like the idea that Roy might already know the answers. The idea that Robin or Kaldur or Wally might already know. They want to have sex with her too, right? Why else would they care? Why else would they ask? It makes me angry to think about them doing those things to Y/N. Thinking about them making her sound the way I do. I have sex with Y/N, she makes those sounds for me, not them.

     Some of the guys call after me as I walk off but I ignore them. Canary's voice reminding me to take my frustration out on my punching bag fills my head. Punch the bag, not the people. Punch the bag, not the walls. Punch the bag. Punch the bag. Punch the bag.

————————————

      "Con?" Y/N's voice calls from the doorway. It's soft enough that the sound of my fist making contact with the leather almost drowns it out. I ignore her, hoping she'll go away. Hoping that if she goes away maybe some of my anger will go with her.

     She doesn't leave though. Instead, Y/N walks through the garage, stopping right behind me. Don't do it. Do not touch me. I swear, do not poke the bear.

     "Con?" She calls again, placing her hands lightly on my shoulders.

     Before I can stop myself, I turn around, grab a fist full of her hair, and snap her head back. Y/N's nails dig into my shoulders as she looks up at me, her eyes brimmed with tears as they look sharply at me. Her jaw is locked tight as she clenches her teeth.

     "What do you think you're doing? What? Did Roy, and Wally, and Robin, and everyone say no to sex so you're here to ask me?" I snap out, my anger bubbling over despite my attempt to take it out on the punching bag.

     "Conner, you're hurting me," Y/N says, her voice calm and even. Despite that, I can still hear the undertone of fear in her words. Her heartbeat is faster than usual in my ears and unwilling tears slide down her face, adding to the evidence of fear in her.

     We stay like this for a beat, her digging into my shoulders and me glaring down at her as I hold her in place by her hair. Once my senses come to me, I let go of her hair and gently slide my fingers over her scalp, massaging it softly. "I'm sorry," I murmur, glancing down at her before focusing on my fingers.

     As soon as she's released, Y/N grips my jaw, tugging my head down so I'm looking at her. Her eyes are still watery, but harder than before as she looks at me. Anger is written all over her face. "If you ever touch me like that in anger again, you will never hear from me. You will never see me again. It'll be like I never existed in your life; do you understand me? What the fuck is wrong with you, Conner?"

     I stay silent, blinking as I look down at her. Her words roll around in my head on repeat. The situation a second ago does so too. How could I hurt Y/N? How could I use something intimate between us to hurt her? How could I lay my hands on her? Yell at her for stuff I don't even know if she did or didn't do?

     "I... I'm sorry... I didn't... I got in my head."

     Y/N stays silent, her nails still digging into my jawline as she chews on the inside of her cheek. "That is not an excuse for hurting me... but, what are you in your head about?"

     "A lot... the other boys... they know we're..." I glance away from her face, trying to urge the words out of me. Even though Y/N and I are intimate, it's still difficult to talk about, even with her. It's especially hard to talk about it with others, even Canary.

     "Well, duh, Conner. You leave fingerprints on my neck, and I tend to leave hickeys on yours. People are going to know." Y/N's hand drops from my face, making me a bit sad. I like when she's touching me, even if she's mad.

     "Oh," I mumble, looking over her neck. She's right, my fingers have left dark outlines on her throat. "They kept asking questions... about you and... I don't know why. Are you having sex with them too?" The words make my stomach feel like it's filled with stones. I don't like asking that question, but I need to know.

     "That's just what guys do. They like talking about sex. It gives them new ideas of what to do with their partners or whatever. It doesn't mean anything. They're just acting like normal people. And God no. The only person I'm having sex with is you. Are you having sex with anyone else?"

     Y/N's face is hard once the question is out, making me worried. "No," I answer shortly. It's weird that it's normal for guys to talk about sex, but it does put my mind at ease. It's not because it's Y/N, it's because I'm having sex. Knowing she's not having sex with anyone else also makes me feel good. I'm still special to her. "I have questions," I add, watching her face soften at my answer.

     "What are your questions, Con?" She asks, walking past me.

     I watch as she heads over to my workbench and lifts herself onto it. She always sits on my workbench when we're in here together. It's another thing that makes me feel special.

    "What is 'good head'?" I ask, walking over to her. I gently push her legs apart, watching for her reaction. She stays still for a second but does end up looping her arms around my shoulders, letting me know it's okay to stand between her legs. I happily push my way against her, sliding my hands over her legs and holding them against my hips. Her vagina is pressed into my groin, making my head start to fill with the idea of sex.

     "Well, head is having your genitals sucked and licked and such. 'Good head' just means it's enjoyable," she answers, playing with the ends of my hair as she tightens her legs around me. Maybe she is thinking about sex too. The idea of having it here, on my workbench, feels nice. It's a weird thought since I don't like doing it out of our rooms, but the idea makes me warm up.

     "How would that work? You giving me head?" I ask, trying to make sense of her answer and push down my thoughts until all my questions are answered. "If I were to give you this head, would that be me knowing what you taste like?"

     Y/N giggles a little, tipping her head down and pressing kisses into my cheeks. "Yes, you would know what I taste like, and if you finish in my mouth, I will know what you taste like." The idea of getting to taste her doesn't help the thoughts stop. I really want to know what she tastes like. 

     "Oh, okay... what is a creampie?"

     Her lips stop for a second before she gently continues along my jaw. "A creampie just means you cum inside me instead of on me."

     "But that would get you pregnant."

     She hums softly, placing another kiss before tipping her head back up to look at me. "Usually yes, but there's pills and such you can take to stop from getting pregnant. There's birth control but that takes a month or so to work. Or there's Plan B but you shouldn't take it often."

     I roll the answer over to make sure it makes sense. It does. It's just medication to stop a baby from forming. That makes sense. I want to creampie her too. I want to see what it would look like. I want to do all these new things to her. I want to know even newer things I can do to her.

     "What's a hand necklace?"

     "It's just a kind of nickname for the bruises you leave on my neck," she answers, loosely twirling my hair around her fingertips.

     "What's a body count?"

     "The amount of people you've had sex with."

     I think of the answer for a couple of minutes, leaving the room silent. "What's your body count?" I ask before I can stop myself. I probably shouldn't have asked that. It'll only make me angry again.

     "Two, counting you," she answers, once again making me think. Who else has she had sex with? Was it someone on the team? Was it Roy? I don't think I want to know. No, I don't want to know.

     "What's doggie style?"

     "I'll show you next time we have sex." I don't like that answer. I want to know now. Why won't she tell me now?

     "Can we have sex now?" I ask, deciding to no longer ignore the growing pressure in my groin.

     Y/N's face snaps from being soft, back to being filled with anger. "You just put your fucking hands on me and still have the audacity to ask for sex? What the fuck Conner? Get the fuck off me," she yells, shoving me away from her. I obey, backing away from her, confusion swimming around my head again today. What did I do? I know I hurt her, but what does that have to do with us having sex? We've gotten in fights before and still had sex.

     I watch as Y/N hops off the workbench and storms out of the room. I made her really mad, I just wish I knew how I managed to do that. I probably shouldn't ask right now though. I glance around the garage, looking for something to work as a distraction so she'll have time to cool down. I'll fix up Robin's bike as I wait.

————————————

     It's been a couple of days since I managed to piss off Y/N. She's ignored me the whole time, which hasn't been easy. Well, until today. She told me good morning and let me kiss her cheek, so I thought we were making progress, but she did move away when I tried to hold her waist. Maybe I'm not making progress on her forgiving me.

     I've talked about the situation with Canary in my alternating sessions. I had a session yesterday, so I won't have another until tomorrow. Canary said when I hurt Y/N, I betrayed her trust. She also said I probably 'made Y/N feel used' when I asked for sex right after. That makes sense now, but in the situation, it didn't. I wish she'd just talk to me so I can fix it.

     We haven't had sex since the day of the blow-up, which has left me feeling very needy. Canary recommended 'doing it myself' but I don't like that idea. It doesn't feel the same as having sex with Y/N. Despite that, I'm laid in bed debating whether to do it myself. I need to let it out, but I want Y/N to let it out. I put myself in a bad situation.

     Just as I go to undo my pants, there's a knock on the door. I sigh a bit at the sound. I'm just going to have to wait for Y/N to make me feel good again. 

     "Come in!" I call, sitting up straight. I have to shift a bit to hide my personal problem, making myself a bit uncomfortable.

     The door swings open, Y/N filling in the now open frame, in an outfit that's not helping my situation. She's in a pair of PJ shorts and a tank top, showing the bruises I have left on her. I blink a couple of times, trying to figure out if I'm going crazy or if she just happens to be here at this moment.

     "I'm still mad at you," she hisses, her look pointed as she stares at me.

     "I know. I'm sorry," I answer back, trying to push down the tension in my pants and the thoughts of her on top of me. I probably shouldn't want sex this much, even if Canary says it's normal for my bodily age.

     "But," Y/N says, walking into the room and closing the door behind her. That doesn't help my situation either. It's getting really hard not to ask for sex again. "I am horny, and I want sex."

     "Me too," I race out a lot faster than I meant to. That gets me another pointed look, but her body stays relaxed. I'll take that as a good sign. "Can... we try head?" I ask carefully, trying not to upset Y/N any more than she already is. I want sex and she does too, I don't need her storming off when I'm finally getting what I've been craving.

     She thinks it over for a second before walking up to my bed. "I suppose so," she answers, her tone slightly softer but still a little pissed. Y/N drops to her knees on the side of my bed, shooting sparks of hormones up my spine. Her boobs look nice, all propped up as she kneels. "You're going to need to shift so I'm between your legs."

     I obey her, moving so my thighs are gently pressed on either side of her shoulders. I really like looking at Y/N like this. She looks so small, though that's more so me being built like a brick than her body type. I want to touch her boobs, see if they're soft like Robin asked. 

     Y/N's hands feel nice as they work on unbuttoning my pants and they feel warm as she gently runs her fingers across my boxers, her other hand laid against my thigh. I let my eyes flutter shut as I focus on my breathing, Y/N's fingers sliding up and down my clothed cock is not helping with that. After going so long without her touching me, it feels like I'm going to finish just from these small touches. She rubs me a few more times before my boxers are pulled down and pooled at my ankles alongside my pants.

     I slowly open my eyes again, noises stuck in my throat as Y/N starts running her fingers over my bare cock. Somehow, she feels even warmer now. I watch as she slightly parts her lips, her tongue sliding out as her head ducks down. It doesn't take long for her tongue to come in contact with me, the soft muscle running over the slit of my dick as her hand works up and down my shaft.

     Y/N's head tilts up some as she continues licking the head, her eyes soft as she looks at me. I open my mouth to say something, to beg her to not look at me like this or I'm going to finish too soon, but I get cut off. Her tongue slides further down, the tip of my penis pushing her lips open as she takes it into her mouth. Instead of my begs, a moan slips out, my head tilts back, and my hands ball up the bedding under me. Y/N's tongue circles around me, sliding up and down as she moves, but refuses to take more of me into her mouth. 

     Her mouth feels warm and smooth, just like the inside of her vagina, but slightly looser. Y/N moves up and down a couple of times before pulling away, her hand still working on pushing me closer to my release. I groin at the lost warmth and flip my head back up. "If you're not going to look at me, I'm not going to suck your dick, you understand me?" Y/N asks, a small smirk on her lips as she looks at me with those same big, teasing eyes.

     "Yes, Ma'am," I breathe out, my hands shaking as I reach for her. I go to slide my hands into her hair, but Y/N shifts away from me.

     "Absolutely not. You pull my hair once and you can jack yourself off," Y/N hisses, the teasing replaced by anger as she looks at me. I glance away from her, dropping my hands down to her cheeks instead before looking back at her face. Y/N moves her hand a couple more times, her eyes slowly shifting back to their teasing tone before her mouth is back on me. This time she goes lower, about halfway down me. 

     Groins and her name stumble out of me as Y/N bobs her head up and down, her hand following after her mouth over the next few minutes. Not once does her mouth pull fully off of me, leaving me wrapped in warmth. I rub soft circles into her skin, trying to calm myself down. It doesn't work though, all of it shoves me closer to my release faster than I want it to. Y/N's mouth, her hand, the feeling of her drool sliding down my shaft and pooling on my balls, the sloppy sound of me moving in and out of her mouth, is all too much, it's pushing me forward too fast. 

     Her eyes constantly scanning my face don't help either. They're watery but still soft, her pupils still blown out as she looks at me. I feel my muscles tighten, my hand automatically sliding down and softly wrapping around her throat. Y/N's other hand slides off its place on my thigh and dipping down to my balls. Her fingertips are soft as they massage me, this little act pushing me even closer.

     "Y/N..." I breathe out, my hand tightening on her throat. Her eyes stay locked on me as she slides all the way down my shaft. I can feel myself slide down her throat, new parts of me getting to feel the warmth of her mouth. Y/N's nose bumps into my stomach, her mouth and throat muscles working to suck on me as her fingers continue to massage my sack. When the sound of her gagging reaches my ears, it pushes me over the edge. It feels like she's sucking my cum right out of me. I groin again, my chest heaving, and my eyes snapping shut as I release down her throat.

     We stay still, my hand still around Y/N's throat and her throat muscles still wrapping and unwrapping around my penis resting down her throat, gags still spilling out of her. It feels like electricity is speeding through me as Y/N's muscles unwillingly rub against my sensitive dick. I slowly pull myself out of her throat, my gaze focused on her as she gasps for air. "That... that was... really good," I murmur, softly rubbing the skin I was previously squeezing.

     "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," Y/N pushes out in between huffs of air. Her head tilts down, her forehead resting against my thigh as she catches her breath.

     "Can you show me how to give you head?" I ask, gently patting the side of the bed. I want to run my hands through her hair, but she's not okay with me touching it yet, which is okay. I know she doesn't fully trust me after my actions the other day. I don't blame her for not fully trusting me.

     "Ya," Y/N answers shortly, staying on the ground for a beat before standing up. I watch as she crawls on my bed, laying herself on her back with her legs open. "Take your shirt off... please," she orders, which I obey, sliding my shirt off and kicking the rest of my clothes off my ankles. 

     "Now what do I do?"

     "You need to kneel on the ground like I was earlier."

     Once again, I listen, placing myself in Y/N's previous spot. When I'm set, she shifts again, sliding down the bed so her knees are resting on my shoulders and her legs dangling down my back. "So, now you tease me some. Kissing the inside of my thighs, running your fingers over my clothed pussy, all that stuff."

     "What's a pussy?" I ask, glancing up at her before littering soft kisses over the exposed parts of her thighs.

     "It's another word for a vagina," she answers, her hands sliding into my hair and gently twirling it around. 

     "Oh," I hum, glancing at her again before feathering my fingers over her like she did to my boxers. Y/N's thighs shift a bit, letting me know she likes my touches. "Can I take your shorts off?" I ask, slithering my tongue out and rubbing it against her flesh. Her tongue felt nice against my skin, so it should feel good against hers. I hope.

     "Yes," Y/N answers, her breath a bit heavier and her fingers tighter on the ends of my hair.

     Her answer starts my dick up again, a rush of blood running through me. I take my time, slowly sliding the material down her body. I have to move a bit to take them off, but I don't mind since Y/N's legs are right back in place afterward. Her panties have a small wet spot, another good sign. I let my fingers go back to their placement, this time rubbing soft circles into the spot. This gets me a few moans. I watch her attentively, rolling over her reactions at different spots I touch.  

     "I want to feel your tongue," Y/N says, a bit of a whine following her words. I like it when she whines, it means I'm making her feel good. I listen to her, going back to sliding my tongue over her thighs. "No," she whines again, using my hair to pull my head up some, my nose hovering over the growing wet spot. 

     I glance at her for direction, but her head is tilted back, giving me no reaction other than her chest pumping a little faster than normal. I continue my circles for a beat before sliding my tongue out again, this time sliding it over her clothed pussy. This gets me a sharp moan, a needy moan. The same moan I get right before I push myself inside her. I continue my licks, trying to remember what all the guys said about giving head and 'eating pussy' at the first 'boy's night' since Y/N isn't giving me much direction. I guess I'm going to have to rely on trial and error.

     Y/N's thighs get closer and closer to the side of my face before they're gently rested against my head. "I want to taste you," I voice, letting my fingers slide up to the waistband of her panties.

     This gets me a tighter grip of her thighs against me. "Please?" Y/N begs, her thighs releasing me a bit. "Please eat me out."

     I blink at her a few times, my fingers skirting under her waistband as I work out her words. I'm going to assume she means eat out her pussy. I'm pretty sure that's what she means. I tug her panties down, slowly, before moving around again to pull them fully off. Once Y/N is back in place, she shifts forward, moving her vagina closer to my face. It's hard to see it, so I gently push her legs open.

     I stay still, looking her over. I've never really looked at this part of her. It's weird to think this is the part of her that makes me feel so good. "Stop staring," Y/N says, gently pushing my head down. She must be really needy. I ignore her command, keeping my eyes open as I get closer to her intimate parts. 

     "What do I do?" I ask, now barely an inch away from her.

     "Lick me, fuck me with your tongue, suck on me, I don't care, Con. Just make me feel good," she whines, tugging on the ends of my hair. That's a little helpful, but not as much as I wish she would be. I slide my tongue out again, slowly moving it from her hole up the rest of her. When I get to the top of her vagina, Y/N lets out a low moan and tugs on my hair. That must be a nice spot for her then.

     I lick the spot a couple more times, Y/N's thighs tightening on me each time I do so. Yes, this is a good spot. I listen to another one of her requests, shifting closer so I can suck on her. "Fuck, Conner," she whines as I suck on her skin, her thighs permanently locked around me now. "You... I need... your fingers inside me," she pushes out, soft moans and heavy breaths breaking up her words. 

     That is a very vague statement. It takes a second for me to figure out what she means, but I do get to an answer. I walked in on Y/N's fingers inside herself before, inside her vagina, so I think that's what she means. I go to push three fingers in like I saw her doing, but she cuts me off. "Hey, hey, hey! Only one until I'm stretched a bit," she says, shifting away from me.

     That makes me a bit upset. I'm enjoying making her feel good, but I can't do that if she moves away. I work one finger into her, pulling her back in place so I can focus on sucking and licking her nice spot. I pump my finger in and out of her a few times before adding a second one. This gets me a buck of her hips and another hair pull. "Con... Con, Con, Con," she almost sings.

     I tug my eyes away from her pussy, looking back up at her. Y/N's back is arched a bit, pushing her boobs up and her head further back. I like when she does this, it means I'm making her feel good. It also usually means she'll start tightening around me. "Can... Can... you curl your... Con," Y/N starts her new request but cuts herself off by moaning my name.

     I try curling my tongue against her but don't get a response. Must be the wrong thing to curl. I go back to licking her good spot, which has started to harden a bit. This time I try curling my fingers. That gets me a good response. Y/N arches her back more, my name pulled out in a whine again. I continue curling my fingers in her, the feeling of her puffy flesh against my fingers instead of my penis for once. I go to pull my fingers out of her, but Y/N's hips move down after me. "Hey," she stutters out, the word drawn out, and her walls tightening around my fingertips.

     I smile a bit at that. When Y/N starts tightening it means she's going to cum soon, which means I'm going to get to taste her. I give her what she wants, my fingers curling against her. I keep my eyes locked on her chest, watching it heave for air as I make her feel good. "Conner," she calls again, her legs squeezing my face and her pussy squeezing my fingers. I let my eyes drop down, watching as her cum spills out onto her thighs and my bed. 

     This makes me happy. I get to taste her. I softly tug my fingers out of her, wrapping my hands around her thighs before dipping my head down to her opening. "Con, please, fuck," once again, Y/N cuts herself off when I dip my tongue into her. I circle it around her, licking up all her juices. My penis pulses as I slurp Y/N's cum up, letting the mix of salty and sweet overtake my taste buds. She tastes good, really good. I understand why I was asked how she tastes.

     "Please make me feel good," Y/N begs, trying to pull me up by my hair again.

     "I don't know how you want me to do that," I answer back quickly, going back to licking her clean. I would be content doing this all day long. Y/N tastes nice, she looks pretty arched up and wrapped around me, and she sounds pretty begging me to make her feel good.

     "Please fuck me. I want you inside me," Y/N whines, trying to pull me up her body again. Reluctantly, I let her tug me up her body. My dick is pressed against her thigh, my arms on either side of her head, and my chest hovering over hers. I want to feel her chest, I want to know if her boobs are soft.

     "I want to touch your boobs," I say, glancing at her before looking back at her chest.

     "Fine, fine, just get inside me," Y/N says, her hands dropping to my hips and shifting me over. My dick slides against her, the warmth from her rolling against me as my tip snags on her hole. Y/N's nails dig into me as she pushes me forward, trying to stuff herself full of me. Once again, I give in, letting myself slide into her as I work her tank top up and over her head. 

     Her boobs spill out, no bra under her top to hold them in place. I'm gentle as I cup them in my hands, her nipples hard against my palms. Her skin is soft under my touch, her pussy already squeezing around me. "I want to creampie you too," I tell her, dipping my head down to press a kiss against her lips.

     Y/N is eager as she kisses me back, her hands sliding up my back and her nails digging into my shoulder blades. I squeeze her boobs softly as our lips slide against one another. The feeling of them leaking through my fingers makes my dick pulse again. When we pull apart, I work on littering her neck with kisses, my fingers tightening and releasing her boobs time and time again.

     "If I say yes, will you fuck me?" She whines, trying to move her hips from under me. It doesn't work very well, giving her minimum friction and giving me a disappointed whine from the girl under me.

     "I'll have sex with you either way," I answer, dropping my hands from her chest to her hips. I move her slowly, helping her hips meet mine as I start thrusting in and out of her. "I just want to see what it'll look like."

     "Yes, yes, fine, cum in me, Con," Y/N answers, her chest still heaving, causing her chest to come in contact with mine when she breathes in. "Please move faster."

     I do as I'm told, picking up my past and moving her faster under me. Y/N's nails dig in deeper, sliding up and down my back as I move her. These touches hurt, but somehow also push me toward a second release. "I'm not... I'm going to finish soon," I murmur, letting my head rest against her shoulder.

     "No," she whines, tugging on me, her nails sliding to the sides instead of down my skin. "Con, I need you to move faster. I want to cum again."

     One of her hands slides down my shoulder, my arm, and wraps around my wrist. She tugs my hand off her hip, shifting it down. "I don't know what you want me to do," I tell her, slowing my movements and trying to focus on my breath. I want to last longer, I want to make Y/N feel good for longer, and I want her to release again too.

     "I want... I want you to rub my clit."

     "What's a clit?" I ask, dipping my fingers down and rubbing the good spot I was sucking and licking earlier.

     "That," Y/N breathes out, her hands back in their previous place. Oh, the good spot is called a clit. Whines tumble out of her, nails dug into my skin, and her pussy tightening around me. "Please move faster," she begs again. This time I listen, picking up the pace of my hips and my fingers. A few thrusts in, Y/N is singing my name again. I like it when she says it like this, when I'm in her, when she's whiney with needs I only fix for her. "Conner!" She whines, her back arching again.

     I look down at the spot where we're joined. Like earlier, Y/N's juices spill out, this time coating both of us instead of just herself. Her fingers go gentle against my skin, her arching falling back down. Her needs have been met so now I can focus on finishing inside her. It doesn't take long, another two or three thrusts. When I feel my release start, I thrust in, pushing every inch as far into Y/N as I can. "Conner," she whines, her nails digging into me a bit before going gentle again.

     "Y/N," I call back gently, letting my forehead rest against hers. Her eyes are soft, not the teasing soft but a sleepy, spent-out soft. We stay like this, even after I'm finished, the sound of our heavy breathing filling the space.

     After a couple of minutes, I shift, lifting myself off of her and slowly pulling out. Y/N's hands slide up me, rooting themselves in my hair again as I duck down. My head rests against her thigh as I tug her legs open, putting her on full display. Y/N looks so pretty with the white of my semen pooled in her and slowly spilling out. She goes to close her legs, but I tug them back open. "I want to watch," I tell her glancing up at her. 

     Her cheeks are bright red and her eyes a little wide as she looks down at me. Y/N doesn't say anything, just lays back down and lets her legs rest open. I turn my attention back to my mess and continue to watch it spill out. What doesn't spill out slides down deeper into Y/N, causing my dick to twitch again. "I think you should go on the baby medication," I say, glancing at her again.

     "Why?" She asks, sleepiness coating her words.

     "I like to creampie you. I like to watch it seep into you." 

     Y/N's thighs shift some, bumping against my face before falling open again. "Ya, okay, I'll go on the pill," she finally answers, bumping her legs against me again. I smile to myself, turning back to my new entertainment. I'm going to get to creampie Y/N every time we have sex. Maybe she'll let me creampie her again today. "I want to take a nap," she says, pulling me out of my thoughts.

     "Okay," I answer, looking at her pussy for another beat before curling up the bed. We'll take a nap, and then I'll have sex with her again.

———————————————————————

[eldaryasharbinger]

MCL New Gen Ep 3 Review

I finally finished the episode! I'll give a more generic opinion about it here and put all the spoilers below the cut!

I think it was really nice, I didn't check how many APs I used but I saw someone else mention that it's around 1200 APs which I think is fair! I was scared about it at first because I'm not sure if I'm the only one who noticed that, ususally, the first episodes are either shorted/cheaper and that new episodes that come out are much more expensive... I hope that won't happen!

The outfits are pretty cute, also I noticed that if you want to, you can unlock the other outfit you missed for 150 hearts! It's just to unlock it in the shop without having to replay the episode, you still have to purchase each piece separately but I think it's alright since the prices are really cheap!!

I don't really know what else to add and still be spoiler free, so now it's time for spoilers! you've been warned!

I'm so so happy with how they get Candy to react everytime... I love that she changes expressions accordingly and it's much more fun!! Also I think I screenshotted(?) almost all of Jason's scenes,, I'm sorry I'm just so down bad I kept giggling everytime he said anything,, I think that's why it took me a while to finish the episode lol...

Petronilla you're so real for that... Me too... (he awakens the goblin inside me...)

Honestly I really think that we should keep this in mind everytime he opens his mouth because it's actually so true... Also how are you so obsessed... Keep it going...

He wants to kiss her so bad I just know it... He's like that one kid that bullies you just because he's into you and doesn't know how to behave

"Little kitten"

...

I'm so done with this guy he's so shameless and I love him for that,,

The illustration is very pretty! He's so handsome why can't he just do a backflip off of Goldreamz's roof (He's so pretty sometimes it p*sses me off lmao)

I think I'll try to edit this one soon too!

I think it's pretty funny that she calls him that, yeah I can see how he's a loser... (I be calling him things just cause he's pretty and annoying I swear)

She's so... I'm so gay leave me alone,,,,,

ALSO ISTG she's going to be the end of me and my wallet, I can't help but always buy both her's and Jason's special scenes (I still haven't understood if you can get the illu's without buying the scenes... help,,) and on top of that of course I'll say that I'm going for Jason's route and then buy Amanda's illus because I can't live without it,, Beemoov let me be poly for once, Petronilla has two hands for a reason!! Either let us (Me and 'Nilla) have the same outfits for both Amanda and Jason so that I won't have to spend 350 extra gems or idk;;-;

The doomed yuri... The forbidden yuri... Petronilla you're so gay... Idk I think I can hear "I wanna be your girlfriend" by girl In red from miles away... We're so over ;A;

If I get the time I think I'll try to edit this one as well!! So so pretty!

I also wanted to mention this... Man he's just like me this guy is autistic as F**K I'm telling y'all... I relate to that so much, especially the fact that he apparently seems to be thinking in percentages as well (By that I mean that at least I tend to make my decisions based on calculations and such... That's why I like to joke about having a computer for brains lol)

Looks like Beemoov's writers did their homework on this guy cause if he's actually autistic-coded I think they did a great job! Autism is a spectrum in the end but I really resonate with how they're potraying it with Thomas! Kudos!

Last but not least... Jason's text after finishing the episode... I'm shipping Jason and Petronilla so hard,,,,,, I love the blue&pink contrast, they were made for each other your honor... If we add Amanda they can be the Bisexual flag together...