#but none of them feel like me and it's kind of bumming me out

[girlscience]

realized the reason I hate so many house remodel/redecorate/ikea hack/it girl bedroom/green kitchen/bathroom makeover/influencer desk space/etc etc etc videos and stuff is because literally none of them are nerds

[moonstruckme]

I’m not quite sure if this is too explicit so if it is please feel free to decline, but I was wondering if you could do a poly!marauders x reader who has a past with sexual assault so is kind of iffy and stand offish about sexual inter course? Again, all good if you can’t because it is a touchy subject ! I hope you’re having a lovely day/night !! (p.s. I love your writing so much :3)

Thank you gorgeous, love you <3

cw: trauma response, mention of past sexual assault

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

Sometimes you can feel left out. Of the easy way the boys touch each other, the knowingness they have of the other’s bodies, the in-jokes about intimate aspects of their relationship that aren’t secret from you but you’re not a part of. And you know in your bones, in that thrumming, impossible-to-ignore beat inside your ribcage, that you’re not ready to be a part of them, but it still hurts to have something about your boys that’s separate from you. Some part of them you can’t access, and it’s only because you won’t allow them access to you in return. 

And sometimes, like now, things go astonishingly well. Sometimes you can let them touch you while feeling nothing but the pleasant warmth of love and lust brewing like a potion in your core. Sometimes you can let yourself tug Sirius closer as he kisses you, can swallow the soft sounds he makes into your mouth without your mind taking you anywhere other than this bed, this boy. 

Sometimes you can get so lost in them it feels like the fear can’t find you. 

“Okay?” Sirius breathes, setting a tentative hand on the small of your back. He tastes like coca cola, and his lips are a manifestation of every soft and earnest part of him he never shows. “This okay, sweetness?” 

You nod fervently, trying very hard not to think as you tunnel your fingers into the featherdown silkiness of the hair behind his ear. 

“Yeah?” You’re growing quite sick of all his talking, persistent in your kisses even when Sirius breaks them. His mouth curves against yours, sensing this, and his hand settles more comfortably into the curve of your spine. “Alright, you’re in charge. Just let me know if anything’s too much.” 

You make a muffled sound of acknowledgement. Truly, logically, you feel safe with Sirius, the same as you would with Remus or James. It was his idea that you be on top, after Remus figured out that you feel most comfortable when you don’t feel trapped, after James was the one to initiate the conversation on how they can make you feel good while respecting your (admittedly, nebulous and often fickle) boundaries. You haven’t worked up the courage to do anything beyond kissing, and none of them have pushed you. Really, you’ve been the one doing the pushing, wanting more and more from the kissing until it’s turned into this, you and Sirius hiding from dishwashing duty with you on top of him and sucking his face like a dementor.

You grind your hips down into his, and Sirius’ chuckle rumbles through the both of you as he grabs a greedy handful of your ass. 

Your breath stills in your lungs. 

You still completely, actually, every inch of you rigid, from your bum under Sirius’ hand to your eyes, stuck closed tight. The only part of you that seems to get that you’re still alive is your heart, thrashing wildly inside the bars of your ribcage like it wants to escape when you can’t. 

“Shit.” Sirius’ hand flees upward, skimming up your back to safer territory below your shoulder blades. “Shit, sorry, baby. You okay?” 

You want to tell him yes, in every physical, objective, important way you’re just fine. But your breath is frozen solid somewhere between your throat and your lungs and it won’t let you speak. 

“Sweetheart.” Sirius is starting to sound desperate, though he’s clearly trying to stay calm for your sake. He sets gentle hands at your waist, sitting you up while he eases out from under you. You expect you’ll move like a statue, but your arms move of their own mind once freed, wrapping tight around your middle. “You’re okay, baby, you’re safe. I’m so sorry, I was—I should have asked. I moved too fast, I didn’t mean to scare you. Can you talk to me, please?” 

“Sorry,” you manage. Something comes loose inside you. The air comes back to your lungs, you pull your legs up onto the bed, and laughter unspools from inside you like wire long coiled tight. 

Sirius doesn’t smile. “Don’t be sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have touched you like that. Are you okay?”

It’s now that James and Remus decide to come and see what you’re up to. At the sound of Sirius’ panic-tight voice, their footsteps hasten down the hallway. James taps on the doorframe and you turn to him so fast your neck clicks. His face is melded by a soft worry. 

“Everything alright?” he asks. 

You nod, but Sirius must signal something different from your other side, because James and Remus advance towards the bed the way one might approach a feral kitten. 

“Are you okay?” Sirius asks again, voice cracking now that the other two are here. 

“Hey, it’s alright, love,” Remus says gently. “Maybe stop touching her for a bit.” You hadn’t even noticed Sirius’ hand gripping your leg, but its removal feels like you’ve lost a thousand pounds. You fight back a shiver. “She’s okay. Aren’t you, darling?” 

To hear worry in even Remus’ voice is significant. You try to make yours even to counter it. “Yeah,” you agree. “Yeah, sorry, I’m fine.” 

“You don’t need to be sorry,” James promises, crouching in front of you and Sirius. You’ve nowhere to hide from his melty-soft gaze. “What happened?” 

“I went too far.” Sirius’ voice sounds like it hurts, scraping its way out of him. Your heart throbs in response. 

You shake your head, insistent and perhaps a touch too fast. “No, it wasn’t your fault. I was—I—I escalated things, and then it just—”

“Take a deep breath,” Remus instructs. 

“I’m fine,” you say again. 

“Please, sweetheart. Just try.” 

You do, for his sake, pushing air in and out of your lungs like you’re trying to inflate a balloon. They won’t get as full as you want them too, but it’s not until you try that your body seems to catch up to what’s been happening. You start trembling all over. 

“Shit.” Your voice thickens, tears threatening. “Sorry, this is so stupid.” 

“It’s not,” James says. “Can I...can I hold your hand, or are you not ready for that yet?” 

“Please,” you squeak out. 

He grasps your hand, and you squeeze tightly, breathing until the tears don’t press at your eyes so insistently. You hate that the ugly thing of your past is touching something this good. That it’s hurting people who aren’t you, like it’s a virus you caught and now you’re spreading it.

“It’s really not your fault,” you tell Sirius, turning to him. “I thought I could handle it.” 

“I shouldn’t have moved without checking,” he replies in a similar tone. “I’m so sorry, sweetness. I never want to scare you like that.” 

You shake your head. “You don’t.” 

A dense silence lapses, not uncomfortable but full of things unsaid. James’ hand is warm in yours. 

“Hug?” you ask Sirius. 

He looks surprised. “Are you sure?” 

You nod, extricating your hand from James’ to wrap your arms around his middle. Sirius is tentative at first, palms placed lightly on the high and low points of your back, but when you hold him tighter he reciprocates. You hear Remus whisper something to James. Sirius’ fingers press into your back, the tip of his nose cold where it squishes into your neck. 

Sometimes, they make you feel completely safe. 

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Soo, for the event: "Please leave him, I know I'm not perfect but for you i'll try, I promise i'll try"

Or something like that

~1k words. (They're idiots in love)

You knew Jason Todd would never be yours. Knew it when you were barely a teenager and just entering high school. Knew it when he miraculously returned from the dead. Knew it when he made a name for himself as a hero.

It wasn’t just the fact he was consistently voted one of the most attractive vigilantes in the Gotham Gazettes annual popularity contest. No, it was the fact that Jason Todd belongs among legends and myths, and you? You were none of those things.

You weren’t delusional to believe yourself worthy of him, not when he walked with gods and monsters and always seemed to come out on top. So, you buried your feelings, buried them so deep that no one batted an eye when you started dating.

Your relationships never seemed to last long, though, not when they always seemed to have a problem with your best friend being a guy, and then a bigger problem with said best friend being your roommate.

But your most recent boyfriend has managed to last longer than any of your previous relationships. You thought it was a good sign, that maybe you could move on from your age-old crush.

Your heart had other plans. It didn't help that your boyfriend didn't seem to exactly care about you either. He seemed more interested in his video games, and in dragging you along to whatever parties his friends are throwing.

It was obvious, to everyone really, he was using you as some kind of arm candy. You figured it was only fair, you were using him too, even if he didn't know.

Your friends were at least nice about it, even as you brushed off their concerns that you deserved better. Jason, though? He couldn't seem to let it go.

It was almost an everyday conversation for the past week. He'd never been so opposed to any of the people you’ve dated before, but he's treating your boyfriend like he has a personal vendetta.

Sharp glares whenever he picks you up, biting remarks to have you home safe. Those you could deal with, but the near lectures? The insistence that your boyfriend is the wrong guy for you? It's aggravating. You know your boyfriend is wrong, but you can't exactly have what you want.

“He won't make you happy,” Jason grumbles, face furrowed as you sit down on the couch.

“I'm not marrying the guy,” You huff, making a face right back at him. You've been having the same back and forth for days, and you really can't figure out why. Sure, your boyfriend sucks, but he's not hurting you.

Jason looks at you like he's affronted that the idea of marriage is even on your mind, “He's a bum.”

“He's– okay, but he brought me those goldfish,” you protest, gesturing towards the kitchen as if to prove your point.

He cocks his head at you, tone clearly unimpressed, “The ones in the snack bag? Doll, I think they were his leftovers.”

You wince a little, unable to deny his claim as you try to find any good in your relationship, “He texts me goodnight.”

“So do half your friends. And me. I say goodnight to you,” he points out, put out by your instance to defend your boyfriend.

“That's different,” you mumble, dropping your gaze. You find it kind of embarrassing, the way you're still searching for his approval even if you don't particularly care for your current relationship.

“Not really,” he sighs out, and carefully sinks to his knees in front of you to grab your hand. It snaps your attention back to his face. “Look,” he starts slowly, “I just want you to have the best, and he's– he's only gonna make you miserable, sweetheart.”

“What does it matter? Nothing changes if I'm with him or if I'm not,” You grumble, trying not to focus on the way his warmth seeps into your skin.

He looks increasingly conflicted at your words, squeezing your hand as he speaks, “I could treat you better. The way you should be treated.”

Your breath hitches. That's– there's no way. It has to be some kind of joke. He's pitying you, maybe. Or it's some sort of twisted sense of responsibility towards you.

But he keeps talking, voice low like he’s trying not to send you running, “Please leave him, I know I'm not perfect, but for you I'll try, I promise I'll try."

“What are you saying,” You ask weakly, unable to face the possibility that he means any of it.

He meets your gaze, firm and resolute. He sets his jaw like he's working up the courage to spill all his secrets, “I'm saying that I would make you happy. I don't know if it would be great, I don't even know if it would even be good, but I would make sure you were happy. I– you mean the world to me.”

He breathes out your name, raises your hand to brush his lips over your knuckles, “I want you to be happy.”

You think you might be dreaming. Never in your wildest fantasies did you ever consider Jason Todd would be willing to tie himself to you. But there's no waver in his face, no lie in his eyes.

“Just think about it, sweetheart. We're already– you're already the most important person to me. Taking another step together wouldn't be so scary, right” he prompts gently, and you can only dumbly nod in response.

The smile that spreads across his face is intoxicating, and it almost has you agreeing to the whole idea immediately.

“Good, good,” he murmurs, standing up and sending you another wide grin. His voice grows more confident as awe fills your face, “You think on it tonight, doll, break up with him tomorrow, and tomorrow night? I'll take you on a date. A real date. Something you'll like.”

He sounds excited, even eager at the thought, and he leans down to kiss the top of your head. It's hardly the first time he's done it, but it feels different this time, special. “Just think on it,” he tells you, smile easy and inviting.

He leaves you on the couch to think about it. It doesn't take long for you to decide. After all, your boyfriend will understand, you've never been good at saying no to Jason Todd.

[clonecaptains]

On Tap

a jake 'hangman' seresin x shy!reader fic

warnings: none! unless you count jake being shirtless as one; she/her pronouns used; no use of y/n

word count: 1.7k

summary: you work for your family friend penny at the hard deck one summer and meet this handsome pilot....

a/n: i haven't written ?? something in over a year so thanks to glen powell for this i guess? and for yall encouraging me to write!! thank you for reading!

You don’t even remember how it started. And looking back you think maybe divine intervention must have led you here.

Your Aunt Penny – who isn’t even really your aunt, it’s what you’ve called her your whole life – invites you to work with her for the summer at the bar she owns. The Hard Deck.

Divine intervention or just your aunt thinking about you for a summer job has you quick to say yes. That’s how you find yourself working in a busy bar full of handsome men in uniform.

Penny, has you working odd jobs, filling in wherever you’re needed. Even if you never expected yourself to take a job like this – it was the freedom you wanted. To be somewhere else. Away from home.

What you didn’t know was that you’d find your new home here. And it wasn’t at Penny’s – you did live with her for a good while. But no, your new home would be a person. A tall dirty blond pilot with a flashy grin and strong arms that squeezed you tight.

You’d seen him around at the bar of course. He was hard to miss. There was something about him though that caught your eye more than any of the other pilots who frequented the joint.

Hangman they called him.

You asked Penny once what his real name was after he’d asked her for a couple beers. You tried to ask as casually as you could and if she suspected your crush on him, she didn’t say anything to tease. She did, however, tell you his name.

Jake Seresin.

You smiled a soft smile to yourself watching him take the beers back to his buddy. You liked the name. You liked him. You hadn’t spoken two words to him, but you had a crush.

Working with your aunt was already a fun kind of chaos, but you became downright eager to get to work for the chance you might see him.

When he was there? Your heart was in your throat as soon as he walked in. He’d take his sunglasses off and neatly hook them in the v of his shirt. The charisma that oozed from him sent electricity into your heart. The highest peak of a thrill was when he got close to the bar to make his order. You could hear his voice and you tried to be casual while he waited for Penny to hand him his drink.

It wasn’t long before Penny caught on. You were bummed on the nights he didn’t come in. And she saw how you lit up when he walked through the door no matter how much you tried to hide it.

That’s when she began to meddle. Only a little of course. But she saw something that you hadn’t. She’d seen Jake’s quick glances in your direction. She was surprised he didn’t say anything at first. He was usually quick on the draw to talk to a cutie.

She’d get to the bottom of it.

The first chance arose when he came in one night. You couldn’t help but smile a little when he came in. He was alone tonight but he didn’t seem to mind. He liked the atmosphere. The bar would be full of pilots soon and locals, and that energy was something he loved.

He headed straight for the bar, and you could feel your heart pounding harder and harder with each step he made. Suddenly the glass in your hand really, really needed to be dried off. You saw him quickly put his sunglasses on his shirt, and you made eye contact with him right has he did his little toothpick trick in his mouth. You know your eyes must have widened when his smile did.

Yeah, this glass really needs to be dry. This one in particular.

His Texas accent came out heavy when he asked Penny for a drink. She poured it but then handed it to you.

“Give this to Jake, will you? I gotta get this.” And before you could blink, his drink was thrust in your hand, and she was answering her phone. You didn’t have time to think that this was an obvious set up because the panic had set in that you had to hand this to him.

Jake was standing on the other side of the bar, waiting. His smile was growing. If you didn’t know any better, he was enjoying the flustered look on your face.

“Hi,” he said stretching out his hand to reach for his drink.

“Hi,” you answered back, breaking into a shy smile. You met him halfway to put the drink in his hand. His fingers touched yours in the exchange and you felt warmth grow on your skin.

“Jake,” he said as he grabbed the glass in his other hand and reached for you with his right.

You gave your name and took his hand. When your palms clasped, he squeezed and gave you a little wink.

“I’ve seen you in here lately,” he continued, “nice to meet you.” Another wink.

You meekly pulled your hand from his, and he took his first sip of beer. His eyes on you the whole time. You think all the moisture in your mouth must have evaporated from the heat of his gaze.

He wandered over to the dartboard and started to play. You stood frozen where you stood, and a little nudge from Penny broke you out of your stupor.

“Everything ok?” You asked and started to dry a different glass this time, one that actually needed it.

She nodded with a slight knowing smile. She could see the look on your face. You knew she could, but you tried to hide it.

She actually did get a phone call. Normally she wouldn’t answer while working, but it gave her the perfect opportunity to nudge you towards that handsome pilot.

She’d get another chance to nudge that next afternoon.

The two of you were in the bar when she grabbed a notebook of things she was working on. You were wiping down a table, and she called your name.

“Let’s go outside for a bit,” she motioned out back. You shrugged and followed her outside.

The sky was golden. And you squinted a little as your eyes adjusted. Penny sat down, notebook in hand and began to write. Write what you didn’t know or care. Because when you saw the crowd of pilots on the beach your attention was drawn there.

You spotted Jake immediately. Most of the pilots had taken their shirts off, and you managed to catch him as he was pulling off his black tee. You panicked when his glance turned your way. The sunglasses on his face didn’t hide where he looked – at you.

You felt a bolt of lightning, and you almost dropped the drink you had in hand.

“Sit,” Penny smiled and gave you a knowing pat on the back.

You did sit, and you watched them play football on the beach. Your eyes trained on Jake. It gave you a thrill knowing that he knew you were watching. You knew he was a showoff, but you liked to think he did really want you out there.

They weren’t close enough for you to tell exactly what was going on, and you couldn’t make out what they were saying. You could hear the occasional tweet from the whistle and the general chaos of yelling when someone scored.

At one point, you saw Maverick wave at Penny, and you smiled. You loved seeing their little interactions.

When the sun started to set, the game was coming to an end. The pilots dispersed; laughter rang out as the pockets of them split. But not Jake. He was headed right for the bar. His tee shirt in his hand, and you could see the sheen of sweat on his skin from where you sat. He got closer and you felt panic again.

You made up some excuse to go inside to Penny. And for the life of you – you don’t know why you did.

Not straying too far inside, you lingered by the door. You heard Jake walk up the steps and greet Penny.

“Where’d she go?” His voice muffled but you could still hear.

“Inside,” Penny nodded in the direction of the bar. “You better go in there and ask her out. Or I’ll set you up on a date with her myself.” Your heart jumped. There was a lump in your throat you couldn't swallow.

“But put your shirt on Jake, you’ll scare the girl to death.” You could hear the smile in her voice, and you didn’t stick by the door to hear what he said in return.

You headed for the bar, something safe to hide behind. Even though you wanted him to ask you out, it scared you to death. He made your knees weak, despite the thrill he gave you every time you saw him.

The back door creaked, and you felt sick and excited all at once. You glanced in that direction in time to see him pull his shirt on. It stuck to him, and he pinched some of the fabric in his fingers to pull it off his skin.

The blood pounding in your ears was loud, and it only grew as he got closer.

You were the only two people in the bar. You knew of course by now he was in there for you, and there wasn’t a single doubt in your mind now.

“Hi,” he said with the biggest grin you’d seen on him yet. He tacked on your name after his greeting, and you could’ve sworn that was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to you.

“Hi Jake,” you replied back, testing out his name on your lips. “Can I get you something?” You asked him with a smile, you wanted to see what he’d say back.

He leaned on the counter. He was close. You could smell the saltwater and sand on him.

“I don’t think it’s on tap,” he clicked his tongue.

“Oh?” you laughed softly, you know what he’s getting at. But you don’t dare stop him. You’ve been dying for him to flirt with you more, even if you weren’t sure what to do with his attention. “Try me?”

“Don’t suppose I could order a date with you? To go?”

“As luck would have it,” your face is warm, and you are beyond flustered but you find your words somehow. “We do have that, but only for you.”

“Is it available tonight?"

The smile on your face hurt your cheeks, and it matched his grin. Like before, he reached for you. Only this time you didn’t let go.

[churipu]

hii i noticed your reqs are open, if you dont mind can you do a pt 2 to jjk men vs their gf's plushie collection? with geto, choso and nanami :) thank youu

JJK MEN VS THEIR GF'S PLUSHIE COLLECTION

featuring. geto suguru, choso kamo, nanami kento x fem! reader

warnings. none

note. ooooo anon, the first part of this got a lot of love and i was actually contemplating on making a second part for it, so thank you for requesting <33 tbh if anyone messes with my plushie as a plushie collector, i will throw hands.

GETO SUGURU. for the first few months after he finds out about your plushie collection — the male actually doesn't mind it at all, in fact, he contributed in adding soldiers to the collection. but as time goes by, he began regretting it (just a teeny tiny bit) because he realizes that these plushies are close to stealing his spot as a partner.

"angel." he calls out to you in annoyance, his hand reaching out to grab circle around your ankle.

his mouth was full of distaste, he wanted to throw away those plushies from your embrace — he grabbed your ankle, pulling your body towards him with an angry grunt, "com'ere." he mutters out.

"sugu, what's wrong with you?" you ask him, blinking in confusion to what has gotten him in such a sour mood.

"that." he points at the plushie in your arms, "i don't like him." he snatches the plushie away, glaring at it.

"are you jealous of it?" you sang out happily, throwing your arms around his neck.

"i'm going to say it once, yes, 'm jealous of it. i'm not buying you anymore because why are they getting more attention than i am? are they the boyfriend?" he sputters out, looking away, avoiding your gaze.

you laugh lightly, grabbing his jaw to make him face you and kissed him shortly, "you could've just said so, you big baby."

CHOSO. is so confused, what did you find so entrancing about characters filled with cotton when you had a real life plushie by your side? (talking about him, by the way).

he didn't understand the feelings that were burning in him, but he didn't like it. not one bit. it was the kind of feeling where he'd want to use his technique on your plump plushies — but choso knew that you wouldn't like that so he has never done it.

when you're both home, the male trails around behind you like a lost puppy. very much confused to why the plushie was in your arms instead of him, but couldn't bring the heart to say it to you so he ends up just placing himself beside you on the couch, on the bed, wherever.

"cho, why are you looking at me? do you need anything?" choso was surprised at your sudden question, yes he was looking at you, precisely at the plushie squished in between your arms.

he shook his head and faced forwards, before you know it, his head turns to you again for a long time. eyes narrowed and lips puckered out, "i don't like this feeling," he mutters out.

you turn to him, "what feeling?"

"like i want to punch that in the face," he points at the dragon plushie in between your arms, and you burst out laughing.

"are you actually jealous of my plushie?" you put the plushie aside and opened your arms as an invitation for him, "why didn't you say so, hm?"

he didn't answer you and just dropped his weight into your embrace, burying his head into your shoulder, "because you like them."

you kissed the crown of his head, "but i love you."

NANAMI KENTO. he actually doesn't mind you having a collection at all — the thing he minds it when you pamper them instead of pampering him. nanami doesn't get in bad moods easily, but when it comes to you giving attention to your plushies first instead of him, he gets pretty upset.

working late was a total bum to you (to anyone else really), and coming home — nanami was ready to give you love, but when you greet him with a simple "hello" before running to the room to grab your favorite plushie out of the collection, he didn't know why; but he felt like he was actually losing to a whole non-living object.

and it actually made him upset.

"ken, why are you being awfully silent?" you jumped onto the couch where he was sitting at, the same plushie still in your arms.

the male stares at you for a bit before looking back towards the television — and you by now were worried, had you done anything wrong? or did something happen in his work place?

nanami wouldn't even admit it, because he knew if he admitted that he was jealous; he'd never hear the end of it. even if it was from you.

you tugged on his shirt, "did i do anything wrong?" oh, god, of course you didn't — but just the fact that you're asking him that made him feel guilty, so the male sighed, pulling your body close before shaking his head.

he grabs the plushie and throws it aside before pulling you into a hug, not breaking a word. he just hugs you in silence, not that you were complaining, "ken, did something happen?"

"i'm a little upset."

"can you tell me why?"

"you come home and go to your plushie? when i was the one waiting for you? i didn't even get a hug or a kiss," he mumbles out into your hair, and you lightly laugh, rubbing your hand on his back.

"so you're jealous?"

"no. i'm upset."

yes, yes. he was upset.

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[usedpidemo]

Too many nights ((G)I-dle Yuqi)

The way you see it, even if the signs were right in front of you all along—written in bright, colorful signposts with the largest text imaginable—you’d still be hurling yourself off that cliff. 

Yuqi knows this too—you think she does.

At the very least, she looks convincing enough that she feigns innocence on the matter, and she is. It's mainly a you problem. She doesn’t know you much other than being the sweet, quiet guy who was her roommate in college and nothing else.

And that’s probably the reason why she’s standing in front of your newly minted apartment on a random Monday.

—————

You’re waiting for her to pick her bags off the floor and leave. You told her to leave three times. Threaten to call security on her. She doesn’t budge. Instead, she stares. Stubborn, obstinate, unyielding.

“Please, give me one opportunity. Please let me explain myself.” Yuqi finally breaks her silence, eyes wide, glinting with tears, pleading.

“Shoot.”

She looks down, unable to see you eye to eye, her hands running through the pockets of her skirt. “You’re right. I’ve taken your kindness for granted, and I’m sorry. I really am.” 

Pausing, you’ve never heard her sound this quiet, this personal. “I never truly appreciated you till I was home with my parents. I should have focused more on studying than going out and having fun. Now look. They’re pissed that I’m being a bum at home instead of working, so they kicked me out.”

She proves your theory to be true. She has no reason to be here unless you bail her out of trouble again.

“But I can’t find one job that I like. Working a 9-5 or any regular cashier job seems so boring, you know what I mean? Doesn’t feel like my type of thing to do,” she continues, lightly kicking the suitcases with her feet. “My friends are all busy, so I had no one to lean on. Then I remembered you! So here I am.”

At least it was nice seeing Yuqi act mature for at least three minutes before reverting to her usual spry, childlike personality. 

“Okay? Well that’s on you for being lazy, and I can’t help with that. Sorry to hear you got kicked out, but I have nothing to offer you. It was great seeing you, though. Good luck with that job.” 

You try closing the door, but she stops it with her foot. Peeking through the narrow space, you find Yuqi persistent, unrelenting. “Wait. Hear me out for a second, I said I didn’t wanna be your roommate.”

“No, Yuqi. Just go—”

“I really need you right now. I’ve already applied to like five different companies on public wifi, it’s so fucking slow and I doubt they even got my email. I just need a place to stay for like a month. Trust me, I’ll get a job and when I get paid, I’ll spend it on finding my own apartment! Just give me this one time.”

You swear you’ve never heard Yuqi this desperate, this loud. Your neighbors are probably ringing up security right now, maybe the owner too.

“Okay, okay. Just calm down for a minute, will you? Our neighbors are listening.” You open the door lightly and Yuqi’s eyes light up. You didn’t even say yes, but it might as well be a confirmation to her.

“You promise? You’re actually working on a job application?” you ask, doubtful about her claim.

“Of course.” Yuqi shows her phone, presents pdf files of multiple application letters to the very places she doesn’t want to work. Some fastfood chains, at convenience stores, and mall outlets. “None of them have replied back, so—I’m still trying to apply to more places, but I’m almost out of data on my plan and I don’t wanna spend another night inside my car. Just give me this one thing? Okay?”

Seeing the evidence firsthand, you can’t help but be impressed. If you had any spine, you’d contemplate the proposal more, give it some time to mellow out, maybe let her elaborate some terms of agreement. But in a moment of weakness, you yield right away. What’s one month of Yuqi gonna do to you?

“All right, fine. I’ll let you stay—”

“I owe you one, thank you, thank you, thank you!” Yuqi doesn’t even let you finish your sentence when she brings her suitcases into your apartment at record speed. She gives you a peck on the cheek in appreciation twice, one for each pair of suitcases she shuffles in.

You can only sigh in response before closing the door.

—————

Before Yuqi gets comfortable in her new place, you sit her down on the living room couch to discuss house rules. This isn’t like college, where you share a dorm together, split the bill and have personal spaces. While you don’t own the apartment, you make one thing very clear: she’s bound to you and whatever rules you impose on her.

“Let’s make one thing and one thing clear: you break any of my rules, you’re outta here. I don’t care if you explain yourself, you’re gone. Understood?”

“Right.” Yuqi’s trembling with excitement and impatience, nodding erratically, kicking her legs up, goading you into rushing through everything so she can lay on an actual bed. 

You take a moment to analyze her suitcases in the middle of the room. Facing her, you ask cautiously, “Tell me you didn’t bring your—”

“Yep!” She responds almost immediately, thrilled to answer your question, as if it were muscle memory. “It’s exactly what you think it is.”

And there goes your supposed rule one. Of course she brought her entire dorm room decor along. Knowing her, they’re likely encompassing two of her suitcases.

“Yeah, no. My landlord is quite strict about decor, so you can’t put them up,” you tell her bluntly; there’s no getting around his rule, even if your roles were swapped.

She frowns, visibly devastated, probably more hurt than being kicked out by her family. It’s the end of the world, but she won’t give in. If there’s even a slight possibility she can have her way, she will force herself through. “Please? Even just my room—”

“Not a chance. It’s just a general rule here, sorry.” You make sure to shut her down immediately. “I didn’t make that rule, anyway. Blame the owner.”

Yuqi acquiesces. She groans with displeasure, crossing her arms, acting bratty. No act can convince you to change your mind.

“Right. Now actual ground rules. This isn’t a dorm so you can’t just freeload as much as you want. Now I understand you're still working on that job application, so all I’m asking is just for you not to be completely messy, got it? So don’t eat my leftovers without asking, don’t go out to clubs and ask me to drive you home when you’re drunk, none of that. If you’re drunk, sleep outside the room. I don’t want to clean up vomit on the carpets.”

Surprisingly, Yuqi agrees without complaint. You’re unsure whether she’s nodding so she can settle in, or if she actually understood every single word.

“I seriously hope you’re working on that job—”

“Don’t worry! Just give me the wifi password and I’ll be set.” Yuqi can’t help but interrupt you every single time, and to her credit, it’s effective. She does seem dead set on taking this opportunity to redeem herself, and it’s a convincing act. As insufferable as she can be at times, you want to see her succeed. You want to see her win.

You jot down the wifi password on an extremely thin sheet of paper and place it on the table before her. Before walking away, you ask her, “You need me to help with your belongings? I’ll get the guest room ready while you make yourself comfort—”

“Nah, it’s fine!” Yuqi’s typing on her phone, not even shooting you a look in your direction. “I’ll get it sorted out, don’t worry! Just pretend I’m not here.”

To her credit, she does get her belongings sorted out. By evening, she moves into a cleared out storage room that’s now her designated bedroom. Words are hardly exchanged other than simple pleasantries and greetings. You ask her if she had dinner, she says yes. She doesn’t take anything from the fridge other than some water. There’s a knock on the door; she answers and comes back with a package of chinese food. She offers to share some, but you modestly decline.

You never ate together when you shared a dorm in college. She would eat her inside her bedroom or after you already cleaned up. At times, she’d come back to the dorm late and you wouldn’t see her till the following day. You share the same space but you have vastly different lives. The feeling is familiar, but the setting is new: having dinner under the low light, uncertain about your futures. 

This feels like your first day together all over again.

—————

The first night with Yuqi is a quiet affair. There’s hardly any commotion. An unusual scene. She finishes her food ahead of you then retreats into her bedroom without uttering a single word. 

When you wake up the next morning, Yuqi is already at the dining table. Browsing her laptop, coffee in hand, seemingly focused on that next job application. She doesn’t even greet you or acknowledge your existence; she’s in her own world, but in a good way. 

“Morning,” you quietly say, trying to grab her attention, but it falls on deaf ears. 

“You off to work?” she asks, preceded by a mouse click while you pour onto your mug. Her attention remains glued to the screen, paying you no heed.

“Kind of?” You take a seat opposite Yuqi’s side on the table. “I work here. Or should I say: this is my workplace.” 

“Wow. I wish I could work from home. Would be nice,” she replies between mouse clicks and keyboard taps.

You take a light sip of your coffee. “What course did you take again?” 

“Umm—” Yuqi slumps back in her chair, “I think it was medicine? I wanted to become a guitarist and have my own band, but my parents wanted me to become a doctor. And I don’t wanna ruin my handwriting, so—” 

“Don’t you have a band with your friends? The one with—”

“Yeah that dream died two years ago.” Yuqi’s eyes squint, brows furrowing, running through every word slightly faster than normal. “And I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Not even a little—”

“No.” She faces you with a surprisingly cold glare, a sight you’ve never seen before. “They can just fuck off—those goddamn bitches.” 

You find yourself unable to move the conversation forward after her abrupt turn. It’s probably for the best; you hardly paid any attention to Yuqi’s life to be entitled to a substantial explanation. 

The rest of the hour goes by in deafening, awkward silence. Here’s Yuqi, this ball of energy whose life primarily revolves around partying and getting rowdy, calmly clicking on the touchpad and typing a few words every now and then in search of a way to fund her addiction. You can tell from her sullen expression just how deprived she is of that high—how incomplete she feels without the rush of adrenaline, ecstasy, and alcohol flowing through her veins. It’s impressive how it takes someone to hit rock bottom to turn their life around, how all this could have been avoided with a few decisions.

Still, it’s never too late for someone like her, and as long as she holds up her end of the deal, i.e. leave you for good after this, you’ll actively root for her success.

—————

“Fucking hell, dude,” sighs Yuqi, slamming the panel of her laptop hard, her fist narrowing missing the edge of the table. While you’ve made yourself comfortable at your usual workplace, a spacious office desk on the other side of the living room, you’re preoccupied scanning through numerous documents and emails your boss sent you. A look at the bottom right of the screen tells you it’s half past lunch. Then your stomach grumbles, as if the clock wasn’t enough of a reminder.

“Gonna make lunch,” you say to a vexed Yuqi, who’s stretching her legs against the table and her arms to the ceiling, body likely aching from her hunched position. “You good?”

“Yep.” Her tone perfectly toes the line between sincerity and sarcasm. “Got three rejections—no, four, actually. The last one was sent minutes ago.”

You’re not sure how to respond.

“Oof.” 

You couldn’t relate to her even if you tried. Of the two applications you sent, your current job is the one that gave you the freedom and flexibility to work from home, even if it paid less than the other. That was six months ago; finding job opportunities has become way harder, or so you’ve heard from your other unemployed peers from college.

“Finding a job sucks,” says Yuqi, stating the obvious. She finally gets up from her chair, brings her laptop back into her bedroom to charge before reemerging with a hairpin wrapped around her knuckles, tying it around her loose red hair. “So, what’s for lunch?”

“Meatloaf and eggs,” you reply, firing up the stove as you grab pans from beneath the sink. “Not sure if you’ll like it, though.”

She lifts her eyebrows, intrigued, but mostly unbothered. She’ll eat anything as long as it isn’t fast food or from the convenience store, and she doesn’t have the gall to complain, anyway, as your roommate. 

—————

“So, how’s the job hunting going?” you ask her right as the sun descends over your apartment windows. You have your schedule down to a science, finishing all intended projects and goals when neighboring buildings’ lights open. Weekdays can’t be anymore mundane and monotonous, but you get the job done, you’re paid handsomely, and you have time for your other hobbies.

Meanwhile, Yuqi looks like she doesn’t want to stare at a computer screen for a week, maybe a month. She looks worse off than she did in the morning. It’s evident in her clothes, her hair, her face: frazzled and messy. A perfect representation of her state.

“What do you think?” she replies, never sounding so heated, so frustrated. A look at her screen shows a new rejection letter, piled between several others, already read. Each one with different reasons, different ways to hurt, but with the same intent: we appreciate your interest, but we have chosen a different candidate from a very competitive pool—we don’t think you fulfill our qualifications—we’re looking for someone with more experience—we wish you the best in your future endeavors. You’ve noticed she tends to click back and forth between each letter, as if to torture herself further.

“I think you should put that laptop away. Try again tomorrow,” you tell her, closing the panel while she’s scrolling, stealing her attention. She readjusts her glasses, blinking rapidly, annoyed at your little intervention. “I’m going for a walk. You should join me.”

“And what if I don’t?” she asks, threatening to pull her laptop away from your fingers. 

“Good luck going out when I have the room key then.”

“I don’t have my running shoes,” she replies, and she’s telling the truth; she only brought one pair of slippers with her, the rest being colorful sets of boots and expensive high heels.

“Then grab some from my closet and wash up. You’ll look stupid if you go out in those silly boots.”

—————

At first, you believe she had declined the offer; you had already left the building when Yuqi caught up to you moments later, huffing and puffing from exhaustion. Hey, maybe she could have been a great track and field athlete if she put her mind to it.

You can’t help but make a little comment. “Thought you weren’t going to go out.”

That was for all the times she’d make similar remarks to you back in college. They never really bothered you; you were never a man of high morals and upstanding, but at least you had your priorities sorted out, unlike Yuqi. 

Yuqi playfully counters your rib, shooting you a disparaging stare. “Dude. I’m doing you a favor by doing this.”

“Elaborate.” You laugh.

“You never went out whenever I asked you. You always said no to parties.”

“And for good reason. Look at us now.” 

If you wanted to, you’d be harsher. You have years of dirty laundry and grievances to air out, but this is as concise and as restrained as you can express them without getting accused of attempted murder. Besides, you can’t keep a straight face the longer you look at her. She clearly stands out in a rather dreary and dull crowd, and it isn’t the red hair as bright as the sun, it's her look—or lack thereof. Your oversized hoodie, your running shoes mixed with her pajamas, the lack of bra—it’s obvious she only did the bare minimum to look decent in a public setting, and yet she fits in all of them like a glove.

“Where are we going, anyway? Can it be a bar? I hope it’s a bar.” 

The first thing she wants to look for once outside is a place to drink. Of course. It’s hardly a surprise to you or anyone at this point.

“Where’s your car anyway?” you question back. 

“I dunno. Could be in the carpark, could have been impounded. I don’t remember, and I don’t really care. It smells like dogshit, anyway, cause I’ve been living in it for the past three weeks.” 

Yuqi talks with a fine blend of fast and sardonic, evidently scarred from all her ordeals with that car. She’s never experienced living outside her glass castle until now, and it shows. She’s dragging her feet with every step following you close behind, trying to soak in the scenery around her. Street lights, joggers, buskers, friends, and partners of every sort, people that you actually know and recognize. It’s all foreign in her eyes. All she knows are strobe lights, loud music, drinks, and rowdy crowds. 

“So, like, do you just go on a walk every single day or you only do this because I’m your roommate?” she wonders, her gaze lingering at a passing woman jogger that catches her eye. Jumping to conclusions, she adds, “Are you telling me to touch grass? As if I hadn’t been doing that for weeks?”

You turn around and notice her distant stare, still fixated on that woman, ruminating the prospect of leaving you for her instead. “I don’t think getting blacked out drunk and vomiting in your car counts as touching grass.”

“How do you even know that?” Yuqi faces you, provoked by your comment, pouting. “You hardly attend parties, even when I invited you. You always turned them down.”

“Word gets around fast. I thought you already knew that.” 

If she could, she’d grab you by the throat and strangle you to death or rip you in half. It stings. She questions whether your blunt, matter-of-fact delivery makes the statement ten times more scathing. Then she wonders if she made a mistake, dressing up and going after you, when you’ll just be making her regret her life decisions like her parents did. You hardly cared back then, so why now?

“Can we just go to a bar? You’re being annoying.” Yuqi stares into the distance, intentionally averting her gaze away from you.

“If you have the money, then sure, let’s go for it.” You know she has no leverage or power; she can only afford fast food and a month’s worth of groceries and daily necessities. It pains her to make a willing decision to pass on alcohol and avoid bars and parties. She’s down horrendously, but she won’t directly confess her own fatal flaw. 

It takes everything within her not to slap you square in the face. 

And you can play this game all night long until she folds. You can stand there, argue, and debate with Yuqi till she runs out of excuses and complaints. Four years of pent up material to unload onto her, make a scene in public and turn her into an example about not wasting one’s life away. You can go further, you promise. 

Instead, you both settle down in a cafe on the other side of the park as a compromise.

The place is more suited to Yuqi’s style: lively crowd, comfortable ambience, all the caffeine and sugar as a proxy to her raging alcohol addiction. Most importantly, she won’t pay for shit. You don’t even end up drinking your own order; she does it on your behalf. You settle for a tiny cup of tap water instead. In a way, she’s acting like a needy dog, desperate for attention without concern for anything else that doesn’t involve her.

“Fucking hell, I never knew I needed this,” she echoes, sipping up the last quarter of your coffee, glancing at the menu over the counter, itching for another. She’s keen on paying from her pocket this time; she recognizes you won’t give her another freebie. ��This shit tastes so good.”

You can only shake your head, not even remotely trying to hide your frustration toward her. Her obliviousness is kind of cute in a way, making her look a bit sympathetic. 

“Maybe I should just work here,” she says, her eyes moving in every direction, her attention taken by something shiny every five seconds. Plenty of action happens at night: groups entering and exiting, the pervasive scent of fresh coffee brewing in real time, and plenty of girls to ogle at. In particular, there’s a waitress with a cherry tattoo on her neck that’s captured her interest. She can’t help but point her out to you, grinning widely at her. “See that waitress? She’s kinda cute.”

“Uh-huh.” You’re not really paying attention; you’re there mainly for the free wifi and a snack, not to flirt. Luckily for you both, the waitress is preoccupied with meeting high customer demands to notice. “Good idea, maybe you should apply here.”

The longer you stay inside the cafe premises, the more Yuqi becomes less inclined to leave. You end up having dinner, a couple of ham and cheese sandwiches from the snack menu. On her end, four cups of coffee strewn on the table, all drank by her. If this was some ploy to make you pay for free drinks, it worked to a tee. Anything to avoid engaging you in a serious conversation.

The opportunity never presents itself. Soon, the cafe becomes dimmer and muted. Staff are closing off sections, clearing trays, and cleaning up empty tables. Since you entered the cafe, she has not made a move on the waitress at all, even when you’ve tried pushing her over the cliff numerous times. Her shift is close to done, ready to check out for the day. One more opening. Still, Yuqi watches her intently, but can’t find the strength to stand, let alone pull the trigger.

“Well? I thought you were gonna ask her out or something.” You take a look around and come to a grim realization: that you’re the only two customers left.

“I—I don’t think I wanna do it now.” Yuqi turns around, playfully grinning, but rushing through her words. “Maybe when I get the job here. Maybe.”

You can only react in quiet disbelief to how this was all just a huge waste of time—and money.

“Fucking—” you sputter before masking the rest of your response, groaning as you rise from your seat, leaving.

After two days, your main observation is that Yuqi hasn’t changed much. If at all.

—————

The rest of the week follows a similar structure. It’s comforting; it’s the kind of monotony you’ve acquainted yourself in ever since having your own apartment. Yuqi’s always up before you, an hour in advance, she’ll tell you. At her usual spot around the dining table, on her laptop, coffee in hand. You stop asking for updates after the third day; you’re certain she’ll figure things out. Your mindfulness and curiosity get the better of you, peeking through the screen on occasion, only to find the same thing. One rejection after another, mixed in with a new application letter in between. From the outside looking in, it’s as if some divine force doesn’t want her to get that job.

In the evenings, you go for your usual walks. Yuqi joins you out of the apartment building, but instead of following, she separates and heads the other way. She’s wearing her own earphones and your hoodie, something she’ll end up keeping. The few times you run across each other, she's holding some drink in her hand, usually the coffee from the cafe you spent time with her in, her hoodie pooling with sweat all over. No pleasantries, you mind your own business till you return home.

It isn’t until two weeks after she’s moved in that you extend an invitation: a visit to a newly opened lounge on the other side of town. You preface the invite saying you only knew about the place because it had opened a month ago, and had mostly forgotten about it until you remembered her. She’s doing well for herself, so you might as well reward her for her efforts, even if it hasn’t gone anywhere. And it isn’t Yuqi without asking for some kind of favor; in this case, taking a ride in your car because hers has been impounded by the police. You’re not even surprised that she’s too lazy to reclaim it herself.

Your friend says the lounge is newly opened, but once inside, you’re uncertain about her claim. Whether it's by design or her being a complete liar, grimy, poorly lit, in the vein of all those underground clubs you had seen in action movies where a shootout or police raid occurs. Simply put, there isn’t anywhere pretty to look at, and you feel icky just by being here.

To Yuqi, it’s a fantasyland: it’s where she’s meant to be all along. She’s so overjoyed to be there. 

“It’s you!” calls a familiar voice; you turn and find a friendly face over the counter waving to you. You quietly leave Yuqi to herself and approach the bartender, who just so happens to be the owner. “I never thought you’d come and visit! It’s great to see you.”

“Only doing this for a friend, Minnie,” you silently tell her, pointing your finger at your invited guest, the sole reason you’d ever be here. She recognizes her immediately and understands.

“Yuqi, huh?” She looks intrigued, her gaze lingering at the girl. A subtle grin is forming on her face. “Never thought the two of you would be an item like that, considering she’s a party animal and you’re—”

“No—no—don’t get it twisted,” you interrupt, frantically trying to clear up any presumption. There’s no chance in hell you will ever find yourself attached to Yuqi romantically, not even a little. “It’s—a long story.”

“Do tell.” Minnie smirks, teasing, alluring. She looks the part of a bar owner, all right; dark eyelashes and shadowy lipstick matching her pitch black hair. Not to mention her slim dress perfectly hugging her tight frame, showing enough cleavage to draw attention. As a friendly gesture, she gives you a wine glass and pours a drink on it. “We’ve got all the time in the world and all the drinks you need. All in house since you’re a friend.”

So you oblige yourself to a tiny sip. The place is surprisingly quiet and empty, even though it’s the weekend, with lo-fi music playing through the speakers as the only form of background noise. Minnie doesn’t have much on her plate. She can lean on the desk and listen to you all night long.

“So, two weeks ago, Yuqi moved into my place trying to look for a job,” you tell Minnie before taking another sip. Both of you take quick glances at Yuqi, seemingly having the time of her life, scaring off the sole patron by the billiards table. “And I was wondering if you can get her a job here. She’s been rejected from every company she applied for. I know she doesn’t want to work a nine-to-five, and I suddenly remembered this place.”

Minnie raises a curious eyebrow, brushing small strands of hair covering her ear. “I see.” Looking past you, she notices Yuqi, now at the karaoke, amused by her voice and energy. You follow along and watch too, wincing at her talent, caught completely by surprise. You can feel the passion and emotion from her rather honeyed, deep singing voice, as well as her natural charisma while performing. 

“Damn. She sounds really good. Borderline natural at it.” Minnie’s in awe of Yuqi’s abilities, the sort of reaction that pushes buttons, steals the show. “Wasn’t she in a band? I know she played guitar.”

“She said it doesn’t exist anymore, won’t tell me what happened.” 

Even in the midst of conversation, Yuqi’s voice manages to snatch away your focus. She’s an extremely powerful singer—a natural, as Minnie said. Her voice is overpowering the background music with little difficulty. There’s little need to watch when her vocals can easily capture your attention all the same. 

Facing you again, Minnie replies, clasping her hands together, “How about she perform by herself?” she suggests. 

You meet her eye to eye at the drop of the notion, curious.

“What do you mean?” You take another sip.

“We have an open mic night next weekend, and we could use talent to liven up the place. She sounds perfect for that kind of gig. Who knows? Maybe she can be a resident singer if the cards are right.” Minnie smiles through every word, recognizing Yuqi’s talent and the untapped potential she has. All she needs is a platform to showcase her skill properly. And taking another glance at her, you see that too. She has the passion and the vocals to croon a live audience.

“I’ll tell her,” you say, turning to Minnie again. Yuqi has finished performing and is on her way over to the bar. Your conversation breaks off as the two women greet each other with an exchange of kisses on the cheek. 

“Great place you got here girl,” Yuqi tells Minnie, beaming from ear to ear. “I’ll be popping by often if you don’t mind.”

“Thanks. I could use some company on the weekdays, if I’m being honest.” Minnie hands Yuqi her own wine-filled glass, as well as a complimentary bottle. She makes sure not to “Take it, it’s on the house.”

“God, this is why I love you so fucking much.” Yuqi drinks up the whole glass in one swig, and immediately pours some from the complimentary bottle. Minnie can’t help but shake her head with a little smile, knowing this is still the same Yuqi she’s acquainted with since college. A rose-tinted view of days gone by. 

The two women spend the rest of the time catching up. With how much they talk, it would be a safe assumption to think that these are two long lost friends who haven’t spoken in years. Then the conversation goes on and on, revealing more details than you should probably know: exchanged  private messages as recent as last night, Yuqi’s intentions to visit the lounge sooner before present circumstances got in the way, and how she ended up in your apartment. As a listener and side character in her story, it’s a part you quite frankly never wanted, let alone be involved in under any capacity. You make sure to add your point of view in the narrative and clear every question. Whenever you chime in, they laugh heartily. It’s a mess, and they’re unapologetically quirky, never failing to make fun of you at times.

Despite everything, the topic is never brought up: the upcoming open mic night, her performance, her natural talent. You were planning to shoehorn the idea, but one too many drinks later, the conversation and opportunity eventually slips away. Again. 

Yuqi can hardly stand on her own two feet when she finally decides it's time to leave. It’s two in the morning when you guide her back to your car, with her drunk out of her mind and slipping into unconsciousness. Minnie assists you, making it even more embarrassing. Even when she’s so inebriated that she can barely move a muscle, she says she wants another round, slipping back into her old ways.

You escort Yuqi back to your apartment, setting her down on her bed and promising yourself that you’ll tell her about Minnie’s offer when she’s sober in the morning. 

Except it’s the one fucking day in the month where your job calls you into an actual office for a meeting. Despite that, Yuqi is not at her usual spot in the living room the next morning (unsurprisingly), so you leave food on the table for when she eventually wakes up.

—————

Returning late in the afternoon, you find a note from Yuqi on the outside door of your apartment, stamped by strawberry lipstick, simply reading:

> Not gonna be around till tomorrow. Have something urgent to attend to - XOXO, song yuqi

Sure enough, one brief tour of the apartment and Yuqi is nowhere to be seen. Her room remains untouched: the same, colorful space it’s always been, with most of her clothes and belongings still strewn everywhere on the floor. You don’t even mind the stickers and posters plastered all over the walls; she was gonna break that rule regardless. Typical, but expected. At least you know she hasn’t completely left yet.

Deep down, it’s the first time in a while that your apartment feels a lot smaller—and lonelier. It’s not that you have any sentimental attachment to Yuqi—not in the slightest—but her presence clearly livens up the place. The difference without her around is night and day. Even when your interactions are limited to a minimum, the brief moments you interact make living by yourself a bit more tolerable. 

So you preoccupy your mind with your usual schedule: a walk in the park, then dinner by yourself. But these intrusive thoughts grow worse and worse. You’re not in your pajamas at the usual hour, her absence is keeping you up at night, and waiting for her to walk through that door is about as brutal as federal punishment.

You end up driving to Minnie’s bar, inquiring about Yuqi’s whereabouts. She says she hasn’t been around, and she hasn’t exchanged messages with her since last night. Then she asks about open mic night; you tell her about the inconvenience, about the note on your door, which is why you’re there. Good effort, but she ultimately gives you nothing.

“You should stay here a while, who knows? I can message Yuqi you’ve been looking for her,” says Minnie, her smile as welcoming as it’s ever been. “Why not have a drink in the meantime?”

“Hmm.” You entertain the thought, but she promised to return tomorrow, and perhaps you’re overthinking it; you just have to let it play out. “No thanks.” As a distraction you’re watching another girl at the karaoke machine. She has distinctively pink hair, has similar energy and passion for singing, except her voice is much higher, more nasally. All she does is remind you of Yuqi, but she’s nowhere close—in appearance and in ability. “She promised to be back tomorrow. Maybe I should take her word for it and go home.”

A pour of wine on the glass is followed by her siren-like whisper. With her hand caressing your shoulder, she mutters, “So—you like her. You like Song Yuqi.”

You raise an eyebrow, taken aback by her statement. Facing Minnie, you reply, “What? No way. I don’t like Yuqi at all. I’m just concerned she might have disappeared, that’s all.”

“Cap.” Minnie smirks, murmurs to your other ear. “You like her. Actually, you love her. You just won’t admit it.”

“And what makes you say that?” 

“The fact you look so distressed wondering where she is. I mean—just look at you.” Her voice is slow, delicate, each word delivered with profound emphasis. She flickers a lighter, then directs the cigarette in her mouth for a puff. “Would someone who doesn’t like her worry like this?”

“I mean—I’m just trying to help her get back on her feet,” you tell her, and Minnie can only chuckle in response. Puff more smoke. In her eyes, you’re not doing yourself any favors. Your words have no weight to them. It’s the same old same old most women like her hear dozens of times. I’m not into her, says the guy who’s showing an alarming level of concern towards said girl. Something she’s all too familiar with. “You know? Just looking out for a friend, that kinda thing.”

Minnie wishes she can hold up a mirror against you now to prove her point. In a place meant for everyone to relax and ease themselves, you look tumid, on the verge of a historical crash out. She smirks into her next smoke, shaking her head, scrolling through her phone. “Sure. I believe you,” she remarks, and there’s no effort made to hide the sarcasm in any capacity.

That piece of cigar looks quite appealing right now. She sells smoking like she sells the off shoulder dress draping her defined figure: exceptionally well, like she’s meant for it.

Later in the night—you’re unsure whether it’s still today or tomorrow—Minnie suddenly approaches you with a shift in enthusiasm, as seen through her grin: “You should probably head home. Unless you want to stay the night waiting for someone who won’t be here in the morning.”

“She’s back already?” You manage to decipher the hint right away.

She nods, can’t help herself from beaming continuously. No effort to lie or maintain the mystery further. “I guess you’re not as stupid as I thought you’d be.”

Running up the stairs in a hurry, you respond to her little jab with a shout, “And you owe me one for that. Actually—no, I owe you one!” 

Unknowingly, Yuqi’s little mannerisms are starting to reflect in you, too.

Sure enough, you’re home within a matter of minutes. Empty streets, dead nightlife on a weekday, the loudest thing heard for miles is the roar of your car’s engine and the elevator headed up to your apartment floor. Any other time you’d burst through that door like an officer with an arrest warrant, but it’s almost three in the morning, and the last thing you want to be is apprehended yourself after a noise complaint. 

The place remains as unchanged as you had left it: completely dark, save for one light over the kitchen. It’s quiet, eerily silent—until you hear airy, soft noises in the distance. Room by room, you carefully inspect where the sound is coming from, only to find nothing at all. 

There’s only one place left to check, and it happens to be the Yuqi’s bedroom. A room you remember being empty. As you approach the sole unopened door, you notice the faint sound growing in pitch. Hushed words from a familiar tone.

“Fuck—oh fuck—”

You press an ear against the door frame. She sounds clearer.  Way more explicit. Vivid.

“So—so—good—fuck yes—”

There’s a subtle creaking sound that accompanies her singsong tone almost perfectly. Nothing is left open for interpretation; Yuqi is feeling herself. Feeling a satisfaction that only comes from something slick, something rough, something good. 

As much as you want to respect her space, her moment in the dark, you can’t help yourself. She sounds so good, so gratifying to the ears, it’s making you a little hot and flustered, much to your own guilt and shame. You don’t care about the consequences; you’ll allow yourself one little look then pretend it never happened. At best, she’s too preoccupied with her own bliss to notice, and at worst, it’ll be one awkward conversation starter in the morning.

“Oh, oh God—you feel really good baby—just like that—”

It’s as if she’s reading your mind, understanding your intentions. The way she moans your name like an invitation—something you never thought you would hear or even consider—how it’s naturally delivered from her sweet, intoxicating voice. You’re doing yourself a disservice by listening through the door.

There’s no better opportunity than now.

With your heart racing against your chest, every nerve in your muscles tense up as it desperately opens the door, slowly and as quietly as humanly possible. Miraculously, you go completely unnoticed. Even as light from the living room slowly penetrates through Yuqi’s bedroom, it fails to cover what really matters: the bed and Yuqi herself. 

Nevertheless, the sight that welcomes you is one to behold, one worth looking at with complete awe.

Yuqi’s body is splayed out on the bed. Her legs are spread wide, a couple of her fingers aggressively rubbing against her exposed clit, and there’s a glossy sheen coating the sheets before her soaking wet core. Her clothes are, unsurprisingly, scattered all over the floor, along with a pair of consumed alcohol bottles. She’s completely bare for your eyes to see. Nothing is left to your imagination. More importantly, she looks so fucking hot. Your heart is racing like never before, and the scene has your pants in a twist.

Her other hand runs up and down her lithe frame, then squeezes her own breast. She lets out this sharp mewl, grinding her hips against air. Her jaw slacks wide. Her eyes shut tight. Her back arches. Waves of self-induced pleasure send shockwaves through every fiber of her being, her moans growing more and more erratic.

“Fucking give it to me—I love this cock so fucking much—”

It’s about as pornographic and explicit as it gets. It riles you up in an uncomfortable way; you end up unzipping your pants to free your growing erection, but nothing happens beyond that. It feels wrong. It is wrong, but you can’t muster up the strength to look away, let alone walk away. You want to see how it ends. How she cums.

She wraps a hand around her own throat, while her knees are planted upright with her feet firmly gripped on the sheets. There's a noticeable tone change in her whines, as if simulating the act. Yet, the words flow from her lips seamlessly. “I’m so close—so, so close—”

The cackle she makes after is mortifying. Here’s this girl, who you had zero attraction prior to tonight, shamelessly declaring how she’s going to cum, how good your cock feels inside her—without either of the two even happening to begin with. The fact she likes you is the least shocking revelation in itself. A reminder: you only had three meaningful conversations with her since she moved in—two if you consider how blackout drunk she was the night before, and even if you go all the way back to your college days, you can count them with your fingers alone.

“Fucking—cumming—oh my God—”

Yuqi strains her knees and loosens her grip on the sheets as she lets the pleasure wash over. Clear liquid gushes past her throbbing, relentless fingers and spills onto the linen. A guttural, deep moan fills the bedroom as she slumps her body flat on the mattress, her energy completely depleted, her thoughts filled with nothing but orgasmic bliss. Her coated hands rest on her bare waist, her tummy, leaving viscous sheen on her creamy pale skin.

When she isn’t screaming your name or touching herself to the thought of you, Yuqi, at her barest, looks so gorgeous like this. Flaws and all.

Albeit brief, it’s quite the show to more than satisfy your thirst for her. You remember your uninvited presence in this room and where you stand in this relationship. That she’s only a tenant—an acquaintance at best—and nothing more. Any other person and situation would already send you damning to hell. 

So you quietly leave, gather your bearings, hoping her haze doesn’t clear before she is made aware of your presence, but you hear a faint whisper right as you close the door, clearer than any whine of pleasure:

“Hey.”

Part of you wants to ignore her, pretend this is all a huge misunderstanding and feign ignorance. Then you hear her soft, alluring voice calling your name and it’s what ultimately folds you:

“W-what time is it?”

Again, you consider the choice of entertaining her question or leaving her dry. She’ll probably fall asleep shortly after and forget these few moments. You tell her it’s three in the morning, hoping she dozes off.

She doesn’t.

“Shit. Can you come inside? I mean—come in.”

She’s still thinking about you, and it’s admittedly cute. You love how unabashedly blunt—and lewd—she is when she’s drunk. You give her the benefit of the doubt and reenter the room.

Yuqi realizes the messy state she and her bedroom are in when you turn on the lights. Cheeks puffed and red from embarrassment, she tries to hop off the mattress, only to stumble to the floor on her fours. 

“I’m so, so, sorry. I didn’t think you’d—” 

“Hey hey, it’s fine.” You grab her off the floor and sit her on the bed. “Don’t apologize. I’ll get some water; stay here and rest.”

Your eyes are meeting, hers twinkling. In those few, crucial moments, right when you’re about to leave, you feel an irresistible tug pulling you closer to each other.

Suddenly, Yuqi pulls you in by the shirt for a deep, passionate kiss. Her lips taste like actual whisky and vodka, indicating what she drank earlier that night. Yet they feel so lush, so sweet, filled with so much passion. You don’t bother trying; you fold to your lust, submit to her desire. You sink onto the bed together, never breaking apart, even for a second. Next thing you know, her hands are all over your body, roaming your chest, coiled around your neck, removing the shirt over your head to be tossed aside and completely forgotten.

Yet there’s still some resistance. Despite making the first move, she pulls back, and you do so in return. You’re hovering on top of her—an unexpected but welcome position to be in. 

“I didn’t know what got me there. I’m sorry. I just felt this sudden need to kiss you and—”

You shut her up by diving in and kissing her again, pinning Yuqi down to the mattress—the very thing that got you into this position to begin with. With you all over her, she’s able to shed the rest of your clothes: first the slacks, followed by your boxers. She mewls at the sensation of your hard cock pressed against her slit, and it’s beyond what her imagination can describe. It’s electrifying. And God, you know you’re no better than her, but you just want to fuck her right then and there, give her everything she wants without a second thought. 

Grabbing you by the scalp, she rips your lips off her chin as you’re making your way down her neck. “Not yet. Nuh uh.” She pulls you into yet another kiss, as if you’re oxygen—and in a way, it’s appropriate: you’re breathing new life into her. “Did I ever tell you that you were a good kisser?”

“Not at all,” you tell her, gently shaking your head. “You’re not half bad yourself.”

“Half bad?” Yuqi raises a sharp eyebrow, seemingly offended by your backhanded compliment. A dangerous smirk forms on her lips. “Says the one who was watching me the entire time—”

“You knew?” There’s a heightened sense of panic in your voice. “I thought  you were—”

“Shhh.” She kisses you, pulls you into a warm cuddle atop her. Slender legs wrapped around your hips, she follows: “Less talk, more lovemaking.”

And more lovemaking you do. You grow more easily acquainted with her lips than with her personality, and you barely know them: it’s only been a few minutes. Even though it’s a Thursday, the weekend feels like a lifetime away. You should be up five hours from now; you have the alarm preset and everything. But Yuqi’s getting in your way again, as she always has, and this won’t certainly be the last. She’s so hypnotic, so alluring, you find yourself unable to slip away, no matter how hard you try.

You find that it’s easier to give in than to struggle aimlessly. 

It’s effortless to get your fingers pressed inside her sopping core, brushing along sensitive, wet ridges of skin, where thoughts of you manifested into thin, delicate strokes. Her moans ring against your ears in varying pitches, each with a distinct, pulsing plea of satisfaction. Keep going, she tells you, and you follow without complaint. All this while you leave a soft path of bite marks down her neck and collarbones, until you reach her petite chest.

And fuck, you just go down on Yuqi. Sucking on her breasts like you’re in the middle of an oasis in the desert. She goes wild. Tossing, turning, trembling. You can feel her body close on you, wanting to take you in and suffocate you. The bed is creaking, growing strikingly more intense, turbulent. All this spurring you on, making you more reckless, more daring with her. 

“Mmmmm—fuck!” She lets out a hum of desperation, her hot, shaky breath fogging on your skin. You become an intertwined labyrinth of limbs that fit together, where you have no idea where it begins and where it ends. Your fingers vanish between her legs, still working tirelessly, perfectly snug around her pussy even when crushed between the weight of her thighs.

Eventually, you find yourself staring aimlessly at Yuqi. She’s so beautiful, and you’re punching yourself mentally, wondering why it took so long to come to this conclusion. Even when she’s not rocking the trendy hair color of the week and her face is a canvas for every conceivable makeup and filter, she’s naturally pretty. Especially now, completely bare—and with nothing but an exasperated, satisfied look of inebriated, lust filled bliss.

You find the light peeking from the living room, casting a shadow between your tangled legs. She’s dripping at her core, showering your fingers with a fresh flow of sheen, messing up the sheets even further if that’s even possible. They’re beyond saving at this point, and so are you. 

Rolling to her side, Yuqi wraps her arm around you, as if enticing you to stay. You shouldn’t have done this, but it’s too late: there’s no going back. You’re too lazy to close the door, and you have the girl you previously never gave a second look rubbing lazy circles on your stomach with her coated nails. Her hair draped all over your arm and shoulder, her eyes looking up at yours, acting all soft and innocent—

Until she starts talking again. “It wouldn’t be complete unless you cum inside me, wouldn’t it?”

The difference between her body language and her lips is night and day. Right then and there, you immediately recognize that there’s no other way this night will end. How your body moves at her will, how you immediately roll on top of her, as if it’s programmed to follow her every command. You have her legs pressed up and spread wide, her knees bent, lining your aching cock against the wet slit of her cunt. All while her features twist into a sickening, slimy grin in the slim shape of a lip bite. The fire, the desire—it’s still as bright as ever. 

And to make sure you aren’t second guessing the idea, her arms are coiled around your neck, her hands grabbing at your hair, pressing on your nape. Yuqi wants you—needs you—to fuck her silly; it’s the only way she can be satiated.

You watch Yuqi’s expression contort from anxious to messy, and the feeling is mutual. You slip in, slow and delicate, going against her instruction, and you almost lose it at the first stroke. The deep, guttural moan you make echoes throughout the entire apartment, while her firm walls pulse against your cock. It’s hot, it’s tense, it’s suffocating. 

“Shit, shit, shit—” you mutter, gently trying to pull back, but the fiery sensation burns, scratches away at your psyche, at your loins. “So—fucking—tight—Yuqi—fuck.”

“C’mon. Fuck me. Fuck me now.” She kisses your ear, her legs pounding against your hips, demanding you to move. There’s some serious intent behind her tone, a seamless blend of demand and impatience. “Use that big cock—mmm!”

You can only groan in response as you thrust back in deep, her grip on your body tighter than ever. And it’s more than just her cunt; she’s clinging onto you for dear life.

It hardly matters when you’re leaving sore, red marks on her skin or ripping through the blankets. It hardly matters when Yuqi can barely breathe. It hardly matters when you’re so loud that everyone can hear you. What’s important is you’re fucking her—and you’re fucking her hard. You both love the filthiness to it. There’s no rhythm, no pace, no flow; it’s one slow deep thrust, followed by a fast pump into her tight, inviting cunt. You become comfortable; you take her like she’s meant to be used.

And Yuqi takes your cock so fucking well. Bounces against every stroke with ease, as if the feeling is second nature to her. Knowing her, she’s probably been in this position more than you’d want to know or hear. You don’t really care about that for now. Even after what seems to be an endless cascade of orgasms, she’s still keening, still needy, still soaking wet that it’s alarming. Her back arches, melts deep into the cushion. She still wants more.

“So—fucking—good—more—need—fuck—”

The only noise you need is the mesh of your flesh slapping against hers, bouncing against her sharp cries of pain and pleasure. Reaching into the deepest, most sensitive parts of her pussy with your cock, this violent shudder rocks both you and Yuqi to your core. With each drag, more of her slick coats your shaft, and the easier you get access to her smothering heat. You can’t find the will to stop, not that you ever want to; she feels so warm, so inviting, so sloppy sounding to the ears that it’s driving you just as crazy as her.

It’s also driving you wild why it took you this long to fuck her—use her—like this. If you had known, you would have cared sooner. You’d have some leverage when it came to negotiations. A body like hers is too good not to have on speed dial.

Right now, it’s the least of your concerns. Not when you’re pounding a tight body like Yuqi’s so freely, hearing her demand to fuck her harder, like your life’s depending on it. Better late than never.

And it’s for the best that the moment happens later rather than sooner. She cums. Cums again. Eventually you’ve stopped counting, because there’s no point. The mere thought of you restarts the cycle, and your touch accelerates the process. The clutch of her cunt is too overwhelming to avoid at this point; it’s all but directly telling you to fill her, to unload all that pent up tension and need into her. The thought never bubbled up in your head even once; the idea of you and Yuqi with a child together. You never really questioned it. She goes out often, probably gets fucked multiple times in one night if she’s with willing company. She probably knew you’d walk in on her; hell, she’s probably got this whole thing planned out and Minnie is one of her accomplices. Maybe the entire time, she’s been yearning for you, because you’ve never heard her this passionate, this loud, this filthy in your life, even at her most inebriated.

“Inside me. Please cum inside me. I’m safe, don’t worry,” she whispers, as if she’s reading through your mind, reassuring you from your doubts. Her hand is palming your back, as if to line you straight so your cock directly hits her sweet spot. She sounds so pretty, it’s almost impossible to resist.

“Gonna cum,” you tell her, voice going hoarse, rasp, and she nods immediately in return, reinforcing the notion. She’s focused her effort on holding on, her legs tightly wrapped around your waist, her arms coiled around your neck, subtly pushing you against her hips. 

“This—pussy—so—fucking—God,” you mindlessly utter, averting her doe eyed gaze, desperate to cling to the last of your resolve as it quickly dissolves with each thrust. You’re on borrowed time and it’s quickly slipping away. Yuqi is tilting your face down to her, to her airy breaths, to her fluttering eyelids, to her passionate expression as you fuck her, pushing you over the edge. “Holy fuck, Yuqi—”

Yuqi’s lips part like a flower in bloom, and it’s a pretty sight. Yet it’s not enough of a distraction to keep everything from falling into place.

And God, it fucking burns. 

You swallow hard, but are unable to keep that groan suppressed. Your hips meet her halfway, your cock comfortably buried deep in her heat, and that’s where you come undone. Yuqi digs deep into your skin as it fills her—your cum—and she goes frozen at that moment. It’s a quiet, tense flash of silence. Afterward, she finally breaks. Cries out this deafening whine, her grip all over you loosening, time eventually catching up to her. 

She lays beneath you, completely limp, but her body remains trembling, shaking, seizing. You don’t find the strength to drag your cock from her heat; the feeling lingers. Endless ropes of cum gushing into her womb, emptying yourself, just as she wanted. Then you pull out, agonizingly slow, and more viscous slick gushes from her core. 

You feel guilty for that poor patch of soaked linen between her legs. It’s about as ruined as a collapsed power plant.

There’s little need for Yuqi to beg you to stay. The climax saps whatever energy you had left. You end up slumping flat on your belly beside her, both of you bathed in the afterglow of sex, exhausted from an already long day, too worn out to make another sound. And when you’re tired, any bed, no matter how messy it may be, is a comfortable bed.

—————

You already expected the scene at the breakfast table to be awkward.

And it was.

It isn’t until Yuqi calls you out standing at the doorway of her room that you realize you’ve been shooting a thousand yard stare the whole time. She waves at you, her cheeks red, flustered, chuckling. “Good morning to you, I guess. Put something on. I don’t wanna drink coffee while looking at someone’s dick. It’s gross.”

This time you’re the one unbecoming, completely in the nude while she got herself into some pajamas. Despite that, you hardly feel any guilt or shame, like this is a normal occurrence in the household. So you scramble to your room and get appropriately dressed. A look at the time and it’s already 15 past ten in the morning, an hour later than when you normally start work. Even more unusual is the absence of the laptop. It’s just Yuqi and her coffee.

Sitting opposite Yuqi, today seems a bit more tense than normal, and you can guess the reason why. She knows it, too. Neither of you are willing to break the ice, only shooting occasional glares at each other while sipping on coffee and scrolling through your phones.

“So, Yuqi.”

The words slip from your mouth, accidental, nearly silent. They follow the mild screech of the chair she sits on. When you meet eye to eye, she asks what’s up. What's on your mind? There’s a sudden barrier in your throat. You have a vague idea of what to say, but not the power to speak them. 

“About last night—”

Her lack of response is unnerving. The visible curiosity, the probable apathy. You and her possibly sharing the same sentiment: a feeling of regret. 

“I—I just wanted to say sorry. For last night. I should have just—”

“Sorry for what?”

You suddenly stop. This is not the expected reaction; it’s the complete opposite. A moment where you face the consequences of your actions.

Yuqi stands up and walks over to your side, beaming from ear to ear. “What we did last night was—fucking amazing. Don’t feel bad. If anything, I should feel bad because I didn’t tip you off sooner. We could have done so much more.”

You don’t pick up on the implication right away. It’s all strange, uncharted territory. Your previous flings were simple one-and-dones: a night of reckless, frivolous fun. Short, but fun nonetheless. They would disappear in the morning, never to be seen again.

“I didn’t think you’d walk through that door, especially since it was three in the morning,” says Yuqi, casual, running her fingers through your hair. “I got a bit too silly, as usual, but there’s a good reason for it.”

“And that is?”

“I got a job!” Yuqi’s gripping to your shoulder, the only thing keeping her from jumping for joy. “I got a job at the cafe with the pretty lady. I start on Monday.”

It’s certainly a cause for celebration. You can’t help but root and smile for her, caressing her hands. “Well, damn. Congratulations.”

“Yeah!” Yuqi’s wrapped you in a rather heartwarming embrace that you willingly fold into. “I had the interview yesterday, so I needed to lock in. Needed to be alone. Then I got accepted after, so I went and bought some drinks to celebrate.”

That doesn’t surprise you one bit. You’re just thrilled that she’s finally getting somewhere.

“So—does that mean I can kick you out once you get your first paycheck?” you ask her.

“I guess so. But—” Yuqi pauses, tilts your chin on an incline. She’s warm, radiant, pretty. She doesn’t care that you’ve worded yourself poorly and you’re taking it back; she’s still riding off the high from yesterday. You’re already counting the days before she leaves, and admittedly, you’ll miss that sight. “I’m gonna miss staying with you. Thanks for having my back when I needed it. I honestly don’t know how I will ever repay you.”

She tops it up with a quick peck on your lips. It’s all over your face, etched completely in red. The devilish grin. 

“I think I know exactly how.”

And that’s all that needed to be said.

Before you know it, you’re right back at square one: clothes scattered everywhere on the floor, her body pressed on the mattress, flat on her belly, your cock stretching her pussy out as you fuck her mindlessly from behind. This time in the comfort of your own bedroom.

All the more reason for you two to stay together.

—————

(A/N: fucksorryforgoingonanotherhiatusfuckfuckfuck—)

(Okay, but I really do wanna apologize for going on yet another unannounced hiatus. Final weeks of the semester were hell, then I was on vacation the week I promised this fic would be released (I'm basically the LeBron James of K-smut when it comes to lying at this point), not to mention a health scare courtesy of my mother. Some very hard times have hit me lately, so my mind wasn't 100%. Nevertheless, I am still standing (shoutout Elton John). Lots of free time throughout June and July, so hopefully nothing bad happens ISTG lemme have some peace for once and let me fucking write goddammit—)

(In non-personal news, Yuqi's solo was very fun and she's getting on that Yena level of bias where she's the perfect blend of cute and hot. Then she went pink recently and that made me :pphurt: Sort of a feel out fic before I *finally* finish these commissions over the coming weeks, thank you for reading!)

[therealcocoshady]

Hi coco , I don’t know if your still doing requests if not juts by past this .

Fem reader x Marshall

Reader is some sort of celebrity and her and Marshall’s sex tape gets leaked

SECRETS OUT - ONE SHOT

Eminem x Celebrity Reader

Author’s note : Thank you so much for your request. I Hope you like it ❤️. I thoroughly enjoyed writing one shots and HCs so if you have requests, feel free to send them to me in my Ask.

Synopsis : You’re a prominent influencer, having a secret relationship with Em for years. None of you intend on making it public… until your sextape gets leaked.

When you started dating Marshall, the two of you had a serious talk about how important it was to him that your relationship remained private. He knew that you shared a lot of your life online - hell, it was kind of your job as an influencer - and respected it, but he was adamant about not being featured on your social media accounts and YouTube channel. You respected his wish. To be honest, you were a little relieved : your last relationship had ended because of public scrutiny and you didn’t want history to repeat itself. Especially since the person you were dating was a megastar. No offense to your ex, who was still a very successful influencer, but next to Marshall Mathers, he was chopped liver. If publicly dating someone with ten million YouTube followers was hard, you couldn’t imagine how it would be if everyone knew you were dating Eminem.

You actually did a good job at keeping your followers and his fans in the dark about your relationship. To everyone, the both of you were single and, even though they were rumours about the two of you dating other public figures, you had never been linked together. No one expected you, a twenty-something fashion and beauty influencer to date Eminem. From the looks of it, you didn’t have much in common and didn’t run in the same circles.

So your relationship flew under the radar for years and you even managed to get married without the public knowing. You had the most beautiful wedding, held in a secluded location with only your closest friends, with a lot of logistics and NDAs involved. Everyone joked that you had to be the only influencer who didn’t share the most important day of their life on social media. Especially when the wedding was so insta-worthy. A few years ago, you would have been a little bummed about it, but being with Marshall kept you grounded and reminded you that not everything was meant to be shared online. If anything, the secrecy of your wedding and the « no phones or camera allowed » rule allowed everyone to enjoy the moment instead of focusing on filming it or snapping pictures of their plates or outfit. That didn’t mean there were no pictures taken though. The only person who immortalised the wedding was the photographer and, though guests were sent the pictures, they were asked not to share, and everyone respected your wishes.

Just because the two of you didn’t share pictures online didn’t mean you didn’t take plenty. In fact, your phones were full of cute selfies of the two of you. At the beginning of your relationship, he often made fun of your habit to try and immortalise moments, but he ended up getting into it. When the two of you met, he was still using an old BlackBerry and took the crappiest selfies, but you managed to turn him into the perfect Instagram husband. In fact, he was the one who helped you do your daily outfit posts and he was more than decent at telling you how you should pose. And if he was a bit judgy of influencers at first, he had come to understand your line of work and your love of fashion. He was extremely supportive of every thing you did and his eyes were gleaming with adoration when he was watching you film your videos, though he still liked to tease you.

One evening, during your honeymoon, you found him filming himself in the mirror as you walked out of the bathroom in your finest, sluttiest lingerie.

- What are you doing ? You giggled.

- Immortalising the outfit. So, it’s simple, the boxers are Givenchy, fall collection… care to share yours ? He chuckled as he pointed the phone to you.

- So tonight, I’m wearing a gorgeous Dita Von Teese set, you said as you posed and played along. We have this gorgeous corset, and the panties are amazing, too…

- Turn around and show the back, babe, he instructed. You’re gorgeous.

This became a little game that you played during the whole honeymoon. Each night, Marshall filmed you in your lingerie, under the pretense that he wanted to remember your honeymoon as vividly as possible. This made you laugh and you let him. It started as « innocent » « outfit of the night » videos but, on occasion, you both felt frisky and ended up filming a literal sex tape, or rather a series of them. Nothing especially elaborate, just one of you holding the phone while doing the deed, just for laughs. You didn’t even watch them after or think about it. It was really just the two of you clowning around, making fun of your own IG account and enjoying your honeymoon. Once you got back home, you didn’t keep it going and eventually came to forget there were videos of you and Marshall having sex on his phone. Until the videos were leaked, that is.

You had been married for about six months and enjoyed your weekly brunch with Marshall’s daughters when they suddenly went silent, after Stevie showed her sisters something on her phone.

- Oh my God, I’m going to puke, Stevie said.

- Girls, no phone at the table, Marshall groaned.

- Have you guys… seen the news ? Hailie asked.

- What news ? You asked back, a tad confused.

- The Pistons headline, Alaina said.

- What’s wrong with the team ? Marshall asked with a raised eyebrow.

The girls frowned and stayed silent for a second before handing the phone to the two of you. There was an article about you and Marshall, soberly titled : « Detroit’s ultimate Piston : Eminem sextape leaked (featuring influencer Y/N ��. The headline was enough to make you want to die. The article wasn’t much better. It commented on the videos and showed a few screenshots of tweets reacting to the leak such as « Bro can’t take a decent selfie but you can trust him to point the camera at his dick correctly 👀 » or « Damn. He’s 51 but Y/N’s the one who’s gonna need hip replacement surgery with these trusts 💀». You and Marshall stared at each other while the girls were looking at you. You felt humiliated. Not only were the videos leaked online, you were confronted by your step-daughters - though they were old enough to be your sisters - about it. You looked down, absolutely mortified.

- Don’t watch these, Marshall told his daughters.

- Like we’d want to see that, Stevie pointed out.

- Really, guys, a sextape ? Alaina asked. Dad, you’re 51 !

- I’m going to be sick, you said as you left the table and headed to your room.

You heard Marshall calling your name but there was absolutely no way you could face anyone right now. Once you were alone, you anxiously checked your phone. Of course, everyone was in a frenzy. Your manager was texting you and your social media accounts were flooded. Both in the comments and your DMs, people were going crazy and talking about the videos. You already had a huge following, but it was something else entirely. You immediately called your manager, who was beyond pissed. Apparently, some brands you collaborated threatened to sever their ties with you. Of course, you getting rammed on video didn’t really fit in with your usual good girl image and it wouldn’t be a good look for them. Now, not only were you ashamed but you were also terrified. You had worked too hard for your career to crumble that easily.

- What should I do ? You anxiously asked.

- For now, nothing, she said. I’m going to consult with a few people to see what we can do for damage control. Though if I were you I’d get ready to film an apology video.

- I didn’t do anything wrong, you pointed out. These videos were not meant to be shared.

- You know how it is, Y/N. I’ll get back to you ASAP.

- Thanks, you said sheepishly. Talk to you soon.

When you hung up, you couldn’t resist the temptation to go and check other articles. Obviously, news traveled fast and you were now a trending subject. Marshall being the more famous of the two of you, his name was on every headline but, from the looks of it, you were the one whose reputation was suffering the most. While everybody seemed to praise his performance - and impressive physique - you were deemed a slut by the Internet. Even worse, some people were already making memes with your face and some rappers beefing with Marshall were reposting them. You had always been a « glass half-full » type of person but you literally wanted to die. In a flash, it seemed like you could kiss your career and reputation goodbye.

After about an hour, Marshall joined you in the bedroom and took you in his arms while you were sobbing.

- Hey, he said sheepishly.

- I-I’m sorry, you said. But I can’t go and face your daughters. I just can’t. I can’t face anyone right now, I-I…

- It’s fine, he replied before kissing your forehead. I sent them home.

- Im sorry, you said. I know how much family brunch means to you…

- As it turns out, having your kids lecture you about your leaked sextape isn’t as fun as people make it out to be, he said sarcastically.

You couldn’t help but chortle. Even in this type of dramatic situations, you could always count on Marshall’s dry humor. He placed another kiss on your forehead and wiped your tears with his thumbs.

- We’ll be fine, he said reassuringly. Don’t worry, babe.

- Why aren’t you freaking out ? You asked. You should be freaking out.

- Oh, I’m freaking out, he said. I mean, I’m livid. But on a practical level, I know people will forget about it eventually, you know.

- Easy for you to say, you pointed out. The Internet is raving about the size of your dick and commenting about how in shape you are for an older dude… meanwhile, people are calling me a slut.

- You’re not a slut, he said as he rolled his eyes.

- Tell that to the thousand of people calling me a rapper groupie or whatever that is, you groaned.

- Doesn’t matter, he shrugged. We both know that’s not true. You’re not a groupie, you’re my wife.

- Well I’m about to be a stay at home wife, you said with tears in your eyes. I had my agent on the phone and sponsors are already breaking contracts… I-I’m losing everything, Marshall…

The tears started streaming down again. Mentioning the situation out loud was upsetting, it only meant it was real. You were really on the verge of losing everything. Your husband knew better than anyone how much your career meant to you, the work you put in and everything you had invested to be successful. To you, it wasn’t just a job : it was your dream. You had always tried your best to have a pristine reputation as an influencer and stay out of drama but now, people were looking down on you and calling you names. And you dreaded the perspective of doing an apology video. It was humiliating. In most recent years, you had focused your content on beauty and fashion instead of your private life but now, it was up for public consumption. Marshall held you tight as you told him about the comments you received and how sad you were about losing collaborations you were looking forward to.

- You don’t need these people’s money, he said.

- You know it’s not a matter of money, you replied curtly. It’s never only been about money. It’s more than that.

- I know, he said. But look, these videos were stolen from us. And if these brands who put that much effort into building a so-called relationship with you drop you easily, it’s not worth it. They should be sending you flowers and publicly supporting you.

- You know that’s not how it works, you sighed.

- All I’m saying is that it’s unfair, he said. And I’m sorry you’re going through this. But I know you. You’re strong and you’re resilient. And your followers love you. You’re not going to lose your career over this.

- I’ll do my best, you shrugged. My agency wants me to film an apology video.

- Are they serious ? He groaned. You don’t have to apologise for shit. These videos were fucking stolen, Y/N !!!

He was clearly mad. Funnily enough, he seemed more angry over the unfairness of the situation than the fact that everyone could see him having sex on video. But then again, it probably had something to do with his reputation being pretty intact. Sure, that would probably earn him a few lines in diss tracks people might be tempted to put out, but there wasn’t much to be ashamed of, as far as he was concerned. First of all, the videos clearly made a good job of shutting down rumours about his size, and he still came across as someone who had sex. On the other hand, you were more visible on the videos and earning a reputation of an easy and slutty influencer, hungry for fame. Typical double standard. You cursed whoever had managed to steal these videos. And deep down, you were mad that they had been so easily stolen.

- Why were they stolen in the first place ? You groaned.

- What ? He asked. You know how it is… people’s phones get hacked all the fucking time. Whoever did that was probably hoping to get their hands on new music. Joke’s on them, though. We only function with CDs to avoid this type of leaks.

- Joke’s on them ?! You almost yelled. The joke is on me !!! I couldn’t care less about your CDs. No offense but I’d rather have your album leaked than my career ruined, Marshall !!!

- Sorry, he said as he nervously scratched his beard. Poor choice of word. Of course it’s worse. What I mean is… hacks happen all the time. Every month there’s a new story about a celebrity’s phone or computer or cloud being hacked.

- And I’m usually over here, making fun about people who don’t know how to protect their data, you said as you rolled your eyes. The most basic thing to do is to at least put this type of photos in a folder that requires double authentication.

- Double what ?

He looked at you with big eyes. Of course, he had no idea what you were talking about. « That’s what you get for marrying a dummy when it comes to technology », you thought. You didn’t want to get mad at him, but you were pissed. You rolled your eyes at him and let your head fall on the pillow.

- I have to go and call Paul, he said. We’re both going to have to do damage control. But we’ll be fine, I promise you.

- Mmmmh, you groaned.

- I’ll do my best to find whoever did that and sue their ass, he assured you. And whoever shares these videos, too. When we got married, I swore I would protect you and you best believe I’m making good on that.

- Thanks, you said sheepishly.

The following couple of days were especially tough. News had obviously traveled fast and everyone in your life knew about the videos. You thought facing Hailie, Alaina and Stevie was hard, but FaceTiming with your parents was even harder. You could tell they were disappointed, and mostly worried for you. Both of your management teams were trying to find the best way to get through it. Unfortunately, crisis management wasn’t the same for a rapper as it was for an influencer. Marshall’s team advised him to stay silent while yours was almost begging you to address the elephant in the room, preferably with your husband, who was an ogre about it.

- I’m not appearing in your damn apology video, he groaned. It’s stupid enough that you have to do one of these.

- I have to do what’s best for my career, you pleaded.

- You always said these videos were disingenuous, he pointed out.

- Well, yes, but what am I going to do ? You groaned. Disappear and kiss my career goodbye ? And I’m not you, Marshall. I can’t just ignore it and go back to posting videos as if nothing happened.

He hummed and you kept talking about it, trying to come up with a solution. You weren’t thrilled about the idea of addressing the situation and he was right : you had nothing to apologise for. And he was fully against the idea of standing next to you like a First Lady while you filmed something so silly. Of course, it turned into an argument. There was only so much pressure you could take. And you knew Marshall was doing his best and keeping in touch with his lawyers, but you were mad that he wouldn’t support you publicly.

- I’m asking you to stand next to me for a damn video, that’s all, you sighed. I’m not asking for the moon, here. You don’t even have to say anything.

- Then what’s the point in me being here at all ? He shrugged. We agreed that I would be kept out of your content, Y/N. That was clear from the start.

- Because everyone thinks I’m a whore ! You yelled. I was fine with people not knowing about us, but I am not fine with people calling me a rapper whore. And I am not fine with my husband not supporting me. You said we were a team ! You promised to care for me and protect me for the rest of our lives. Or were these vows just words to you ?!?!

You knew he would be pissed off by your words. He had always made it clear that his vows were absolutely serious and solemn. And you knew for a fact that he had put a lot of heart and thought into writing them. He didn’t say anything, just sighed and left the room. Obviously, you both needed to take time off because this escalated into an argument. You groaned and stayed in the bedroom, which you had barely left since the videos had leaked.

A couple of hours later, you went downstairs and found Marshall watching some boxing match on TV.

- Hey, you said sheepishly.

- Hey, he simply said.

- Look, I’m sorry, I…, you began.

- Don’t sweat it, he shrugged as he gestured for you to come sit on his lap.

You sat on him and watched with him in silence, enjoying the sensation of his arms wrapped around your waist. When the match ended, he turned off TV and smiled at you.

- I took care of things, he said.

- You did ? You asked.

- I did, he confirmed. You don’t need to film that stupid video.

- What did you do ? You asked with a raised eyebrow.

He seemed pretty sure of himself, proud even, and you tried hard not to show it, but you were still a bit doubtful.

- Check Instagram, he simply said as he handed you your phone.

You nervously checked your account. You were tagged in thousands of new posts. Only these weren’t posts of the sex videos. Your account was flooded with pictures of your wedding, posted by your friends and reposted by tons of fan accounts. Your closest influencer friends had posted the beautiful pictures of them with you at the wedding. Marshall’s friends had done the same : 50, Dre, Porter, Royce… everyone was posting about your nuptials. The most beautiful shot was the one shared by Marshall on his account : a gorgeous black and white shot of the two of you after the reception, holding hands and staring at the fireworks, captioned : « For better & for worse. Happy 6 months anniversary. ». Everyone was going absolutely crazy in the comments, not failing to show their surprise and mentioning that he was now following one account : yours. You looked at him, almost crying and took him in your arms.

- Oh my God, you said. I can’t believe you did this.

- Called in a few favors and asked our friends to post the wedding pictures, he said with a smile. I figured the Internet would focus on these rather than the videos. So far it seems to be working…

- You didn’t have to, you said emotionally. I know you wanted to keep the wedding a secret.

- I also wanted to keep our sex life secret, he chuckled. But I care more about you and supporting you. Now, everyone knows I have your back. Until death do us part. And if anyone dares come for you, I will end them. I promise.

- I love you, you said emotionally.

- I love you too, he replied before kissing you. I’m sorry I was grumpy about the whole thing. You were right, these vows were never meant to be just words. I want to put them in action.

You kissed him passionately and you both took a minute to enjoy the posts everyone made about your wedding, reminiscing about that special day.

- I’m happy I don’t have to make that stupid apology video, you confessed.

- Me too, he chuckled. I did make an apology though.

- You did ? You asked in surprise.

He showed you his IG story. A black screen with simple text - in true influencer fashion : « I want to take a minute to apologize about the videos that have been leaked. I am sorry if anyone was confused. They were misleading and I want to state that the boxers were actually not Givenchy but Calvin Klein. Sorry for the confusion. 👀». You chortled and kissed him.

- What ? That was the only thing worth an apology, he pointed out with a smile.

- You’re such a troll, you said as you playfully rolled your eyes.

You spent the following days in bliss, showered with love from both your followers and his fans. Everyone was going crazy about your wedding and, even though there were still mentions of the sextape, most of the attention was focused on your relationship. Both of your management teams were also happy to put the incident behind them, though now they had to deal with plenty of interview requests. However, you agreed that even though your secret was out, nothing would really change. You slowly got back to business. Though nothing didn’t really change for Marshall - who was always in hermit mode in the studio - you had a lot of new followers and tons of collaboration requests. The sponsors who had been quick to drop you even came back and attempted to suck up to you, though you absolutely refused to work with them again. You were in your home office, reviewing partnership requests when you came across the biggest offer of your career : none other than Calvin Klein wanted you to be the new face of their underwear campaign, offering you a shit ton of money. It was the biggest opportunity you had ever received but you were a bit nervous when you mentioned it to your husband.

- What do you think ? You asked after you brought it up to him.

- I think we’ve established that you look good in underwear, he grinned.

- Yes but that would be banking on our sextape, our relationship… would it be ok with you ? You asked.

- I’ll cut you a deal : I’m ok with you doing that campaign if you’re ok with me using your moans as ad libs, he said with a smirk.

- You can’t be serious, you giggled as you rolled your eyes.

- What ? He chuckled. We’re partner in life, we might as well be business partners.

[urinarythreatinfection]

Okay I finished it, it was a little hard since I kept getting distracted with other stuff but I did it. Sorry for taking more time than I said maybe I should stop giving time framed. Anyway here's the second (and last) part.

Kindness Isn't Spineless

Luffy x gn!reader. angst with happy ending. 1284 words. Tw mention of reader's past abusive relationships. Part 1, Part 3, Part 4

Luffy decides to give you space, just a bit. He’s already messed things up, now he's nervous breaking down the door would just make things worse. This isn’t like him, he should just do what feels right! The problem is none of the options feel right, all of them make him feel like they’re the wrong one. He wishes you would just open the door, make the choice for him so he could stop worrying about him. “(Y/N)!” He calls out, “Hey! I’m sorry, can you let me in?” but there’s no answer. “...Please?” You still don’t respond and he droops sadly. He doesn’t want to leave, so he just sits down next to the door and waits while thinking about what he did. Time passes and Nami comes, spotting Luffy looking dejected near your door. She already has a feeling something happened.

“Did you get kicked out?” She asks, expecting Luffy to get defensive; but he just nods, too bummed to argue. His plan of scolding him harshly softens and she sighs, crouching down to his level “What happened? You messed up, right?” She asks.

“I thought maybe if I was mean they would get braver with me, but now they’re mad.” Luffy answers and Nami sighs again.

“You know you messed up, right?” She asks and Luffy looks away, still a little stubborn. “Luffy you hurt them.” That makes him flinch and he concedes, the thought of hurting you so badly overtaking his need to be right.

“...I messed up.” It’s still a little hesitant but he admits it. Nami motions for him to go on and he tries his best to continue. “I should’ve, um, talked to them.” That’s the most he can think of for now.

“Good enough, but you should say this to them. Mkay?” Nami says softly and Luffy nods. “Good. That’ll be 5,000 berri for my advice.” She says, standing back up. “You can give it to me later, no interest~” With that, she’s gone. Luffy turns his head to look at your door, then stands up and knocks.

“(Y/N) I messed up and I’m sorry. Can you open the door?” There’s no answer and he frowns. “Please, Franky will get mad if I break it down.” There’s a huff from inside and footsteps before the door opens. His frown deepens into a guilty one seeing your eyes red from crying. “I’m sorry.” Luffy says to you and you slowly open your arms. As soon as they open he quickly hugs you tightly, all his thoughts coming out. “You’ve been so weird around me and you don’t argue with anything I started to feel bad and I wanted to help you so I just thought that if I was mean to you you would get angry one day and then actually argue back but now you’re hurt and it’s my fault I’m really sorry (Y/N) please don’t cry or break up with me I’ll try my best to not do it again even if you act weird and meek!” He rambles quickly and you pull back, which he very hesitantly lets you. “Your eyes are all red, I didn’t know you would get so sad-”

“You didn’t think I would be sad that my boyfriend was being cold to me? Luffy you’re acting stupid. I was trying so so hard to be nice to you and you just.. just brushed me off! I was scared that if I argued back you would get angry with me but now you’re saying you didn’t like that I wouldn’t argue back!? That doesn’t make any sense!” You yell at him, eyes tearing up again. Luffy listens to you.

“I just didn’t want you to be a pushover. I wanted you to be strong being with me not all meek and weak.” Luffy says softly, he still feels like it’s kind of your fault but it doesn’t matter to him. He’ll try and understand.

“...You’re right.” His heart races, are you gonna leave him again? “I’ve been meek and just way too accepting of whatever happens. I didn’t want to argue or take any risks so I let you do whatever you wanted. Your intentions were good, even if you did it in such a stupid way.” Your words are bittersweet, he’s glad you’re acknowledging what you did wrong but he doesn't want you to just give in. “Still, you hurt me, and I’m mad at you. I was starting to think you hated me, that you regretted being with me. It hurt so bad, I felt like I was back in some stupid toxic relationship with someone that doesn’t love me.” This catches Luffy’s attention.

“Hey wait what do you me-” You cover his mouth before he can finish.

“Let me speak please.” You tell him and he nods. “I’ve been in bad relationships before, ones that hurt me mentally, emotionally, and sometimes even physically. I know you wouldn’t hit me over an argument or just because you were mad but I was scared. I kept telling myself you wouldn’t but I couldn’t help it, I didn’t want to risk it. I didn’t want to risk someone I really love turning into the same people that hurt me.” Luffy listens to all of this and his emotions are conflicted. He wants to beat up anyone that hurt you, caused you to be like this; but he’s also just sad that you’re like this because of them. He feels guilty now too, maybe if he just asked you this wouldn’t have happened and he could help you get through it instead of looking at him with such fear; but you haven’t uncovered his mouth so he keeps that to himself for now. “Luffy, you didn’t just make me mad, you made me upset, you made me feel unsafe.” His heart sinks. Unsafe? He likes to tease and prank his crew members but knowing he made one of his nakama, one that he loves so much, unsafe makes him feel horrible. More than he felt when he started this whole thing in order to strengthen you. He reaches his arms out to you and you hesitate to go into them, but give in when you see how guilty he looks.

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry. I don’t like making you feel unsafe. I won't do it again, I’ll talk with you instead of doing something crazy.” He mumbles, hugging you tightly. Not enough to hurt, but enough that you know he wants you in his arms. You close your eyes and let your head fall onto his shoulder, wrapping your own arms around him.

“Okay, you have to promise me. Promise me you aren’t going to make me feel like this again.” You say and nods quickly, pulling back just enough to look at you.

“I promise. I’m gonna do my best to listen to you and talk with you, I won’t make you feel unsafe again.” Luffy pressed his forehead against yours, looking deep into your eyes. Your expression is still a little solemn but you nod.

“Okay, I’ll trust you.” It makes you scared saying that, nerve wracking knowing you’ll have to face and change how you’ve taught yourself to be; but looking into Luffy’s genuinely guilty and determined eyes gives you the strength to take the risk. To let go of the defenses that you’ve put up to ‘Keep the peace’ or to make sure you’re always kind and never mean. Kindness isn’t the same as letting yourself be pushed around, and you can learn that. You just need to let yourself free, and Luffy will be here with you every step of the way.

__________

yayy you reached the end thanks for reading, requests are still open I do anything to do with one piece.

[agavekitten]

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Summary - You're Abby's Favorite Daycare Attendent!

Pairing - Mike Schmidt x Fem! Reader

Warnings- All fluff!

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Every day felt the same, gray, uncomfortable and cold. Nothing seemed to bring the warmth like it used to. Even getting out of bed feels like a chore. I rubbed my eyes, staring into the darkness of the room around me. The soft blankets coddled around me were the only things keeping me from feeling the light cold air around me. I could only let out a sigh as I thought about the day ahead of me. The same old same old, wake up, work, clean then sleep. Over and over again until I could feel nothing. 

Today was one of those days, where I felt nothing. I didn't even notice that I got out of bed and had already gotten dressed. It was like a blur, like everything around me is simply a picture and none of it is real. It’s almost nice to think of it like that - a picture. It makes the things around you more interesting, a painting can be anything you interpret it as. It can be beautiful with every stroke of the paint having meaning and purpose. Or, there is the other interpretation, the one that makes the world look sad and unappealing with bland colors and concepts. But, I didn't like to think of it that way. If I'm going to live in my own fantasy world and believe that the world is a painting, it's going to be a happy colorful one damn it. 

I stepped out of the room and made my way to the bathroom, god I looked terrible. My hair looked like a bird just laid eggs in it and my face was swollen from the night's rest. I’ve always been hypocritical about how I looked, but today it was just a joke. Did my look matter that much? Not really in the grand scheme of things but to me it was important. I work at a daycare and the thought of a parent thinking I looked like a bum on the street and questioning if I had good hygiene made me want to throw up. I spent the first hour and a half trying to make myself look better. I finally felt like a person again as I put my hair up. I gave myself a small smile in the mirror and it immediately fell.

*buzz buzz* 

I looked down at my phone and saw the time, shit. I was late to work, again. I never woke up early to get ready and make myself feel like a person again. Now that I think about it, that's a bit of a problem. I went to the front door and grabbed my bag then rushed out the door. My job was the one thing that I really truly loved. Seeing the kids' faces light up when I enter the room and rush over to me to ask to play with them was always a highlight. It made me feel like my life did have purpose. All these kids relied on me while their parents worked or had a day to themselves, I’ve even become quite attached to a few of them. There was one kid that I look forward to seeing everyday, her name was Abby. She always had a smile on her face when she saw me grabbing my shirt practically begging if we could draw together. I would always spend most of my time drawing and playing games with her while the other daycare attendants played with the other kids. Abby didn't have a lot of friends and besides with you, she was often really quiet. I smiled at the thought of seeing Abby today. She should already be there by the time I walk through the daycare door. 

And just as I suspected, when I came through the door, there she was. A big smile on her face, her hair curled slightly and she had on a pair of cute overalls. “Hey Abbs!” I gave her a soft smile and opened my arms. She came running over and gave me a huge squeeze. “I thought you weren't going to be here today, I got sad.” Abby said, looking up at me with her large doe eyes. I moved my hand to her head, messing up her hair a bit. “You know I don't miss a day kiddo.” She giggled in response, “come draw with me Y/N! I've been waiting all morning! I have an amazing idea of what kind of cats we can draw today” Abby dragged you over to the table with all the art supplies spewed about. That was Abby and I’s thing, drawing cats in different scenarios. You know pirate cats, president cats, the whole works. “What were you thinking?” I sat next to her and smiled. She made a small drumroll on the table with her fingers. “....zombie cats.” We both went silent as we looked at eachother then let out a small giggle. “Zombie cats it is then.” We spent that afternoon drawing zombie cats in different scenarios, zombie cats in the grocery store, getting hair cuts, driving cars and my personal favorite two zombie cats that were dressed like Abby and I. 

“Y/N?” Abby put her green crayon down. 

“Yes Abby?”

“You should meet my brother, he would like you.” Abby had the most serious look on her face and I giggled. “Really? Now why's that?” 

“Well I like you and you're my friend so why wouldn't he like you.” She picked her crayon back up and continued to draw, “he likes all my friends.”

 “He seems like a very nice Abby, I would love to meet him.” I gave her a soft smile.

“Abby?”

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This is my first fanfic so please be gentle….

yes there will be a part 2!!!

[scarletwritesshit]

⭐Boothill x F!Reader ⭐ Silver Stars

You kept looking up at Penacony’s sky. You knew that none of this was real, and that your physical body was safely resting in the Reveire back in reality, but that didn’t make the experience feel any more fake.

Boothill noticed you frequently looking up at the sky. On occasion, he would have to drag you out of the way of others or nudge you away from accidentally walking directly into a lamp post. He didn’t mind it, but his kindness did not come without a few "muddle fudgers.” You couldn’t help it. Penacony’s sky was simply too marvelous for you to ignore.

"Lass, ya better watch where you’re goin’, otherwise, one of these days you’re gonna trip and fall," Boothill said. "Don’t want ya bustin’ up your pretty face."

"Oh, sorry," you said, "It’s quite difficult to simply glaze by such a view.”

"Well if ya wanted to go stargazin’, why didn’t ya tell me so? Ain’t that a lot easier than wanderin’ around like some dumb dog?"

"I guess, but where are we going to find anywhere in Penacony to stargaze in solitude?"

Boothill thought for a moment. "I mean there’s them back-alley routes that eventually lead up to some pretty quiet and wide open spots. Ain’t gonna find no one up there seein’ how everyone else is too busy indulging in their own little fantasy lands."

"Do you even know where any of these spots are?"

"That’s what a GPS is for, hun. Not like any of them are very difficult to find in the first place, just gotta do a little walkin’."

Boothill grabbed you by the arm and started dragging you down a back-alley path. He had quite the tight grip, perhaps out of negligence for how strong his artificial body was. Your feet were practically smoking from the friction as he dragged you along. Eventually, you gave up trying to keep up with his pace and allowed yourself to skid along, until he stopped at a rather high spot overlooking the dreamy metropolis of the Golden Hour.

"Told ya I knew what I was doin’," he said, with a wink.

"Next time, could you be just a little bit gentler? My shoes were practically sparking a fire back there," you said.

"Shoulda told me something, lass. Could’ve picked ya up and thrown ya over my shoulder."

"Is it too late to take you up on that offer?"

"For now, yeah, ‘cuz we’re already here. But it ain’t off the table for later. For now, take a seat, lass."

Boothill sat down on the concrete, and invited you to sit next to him by patting the ground. You sat down next to him and looked up, admiring the grand view of Penacony’s stars blanketing above your head and beyond what can be seen past the guardrail. You looked all around, even leaning backwards to take in as much as the starry sky as you possibly could. Boothill wrapped his arm around your lower back to steady you so that you did not collapse onto the concrete.

"Wouldn’t it be easier if ya laid your bum down on my lap?" Boothill suggested. "If ya can deal with my cold metal thighs, it’ll be a heck of a lot easier to look at them stars than twisting ya spine all over the dang place."

Accepting Boothill’s offer, you laid down on his thighs, positioning your head so that you could rest between them comfortably. They were rather firm and solid, but the fabric of his pants cushioned them a little. Boothill was right about the stars being far more easily viewed from laying down. The only thing that really got in your way were the tuffs of his hair visible out of the corner of your eyes, but it was a minor inconvenience that you truthfully didn’t mind. He reached down to gently stroke the side of your face, but stopped himself.

"Sorry if I ain’t that comfortable," he said.

"No, its fine. I quite like it here," you said, grabbing his hand and gently placing it onto your cheek.

The metal of Boothill's fingers were quite cold from Penacony’s everlasting nighttime air. Curiously enough, it had the strangest sense of human warmth to it.

"You don’t gotta to pretend for me, partner. I know it ain’t the same as the feeling of another human."

"But this feeling is from you. Not just any person, flesh and blood or otherwise. That’s more important.”

"This hunk 'o crud ain’t anything like the me I once was. It’s turned me into a sad excuse of a person if I’ve ever seen one."

"I don’t mind. Really"

"Well I do," he said, gently running his finger alongside your cheek, "all I got to offer as a sad excuse of comfort is a heaping pile of metal."

"I get the feeling you don’t particularly enjoy being a cyborg."

"What gave that away? It’s gotta be up there with one of the worst things that had ever happened to me. Shame that not even the sweetest dreams can grant me a sense of normalcy."

"...Boothill, if a shooting star could grant a wish, would you wish for your human body back?"

Boothill went silent for a moment, and sighed. "No. I couldn’t There’s somethin’ far more valuable than my own humanity that I wish I could bring back."

"...You’re talking about her, aren’t you?"

"Right on target, partner. Even if I could bring ‘er back, I ain’t got a father's body to provide any warmth with. It’s cruel to do a little lady so dirty like that."

"She would think you’re the coolest, honestly."

"Maybe. Still can’t help but feel like I ain’t really there for ‘er with this lump of snot for a body. Probably a father’s guilt speakin’."

Boothill speaking more softly about himself for once put your body at ease, in addition to being rested comfortably in his lap. If it were possible in this dream, you felt as if you could drift off to sleep.

"Cyborg or not, you’ll always be Boothill to me," you said.

"Thank ya kindly, lass. Your words mean a whole lot to a little ol’ bucket of scrap like me. And I do apologize for dullin’ ya mood. Ya did say you wanted to stargaze, not listen to a rusty lad yap for Aeons know how long."

"No worries. I find this kind of talk kinda soothing."

"I can tell. Ya look like you’re gonna doze off on me."

"If it were feasible in a dream, then I would."

Boothill had become comfortable enough to entrust such a deeply hidden repressed feeling to you. In turn, you too felt much more at ease in his presence, knowing he was comfortable enough for such a thing. Beneath the stars, it was as if Penacony's sky was soothing the troubles of both of your golden hearts.

Your eyes began to feel heavy.

"I ain’t gonna bug ya if ya want a lil’ bit of shut-eye," Boothill said. "Stars are meant for sleepin’ under, after all."

He gently began to run his fingers through your hair, feeling as much as his cold metallic fingers would allow him to.

No use fighting back perhaps one of the first peaceful nights you two have shared in a while.

You closed your eyes.

[thesassypadawan]

Come Clean (Hayden x FemReader)

Summary: You finally get to go along with Hayden to a con!  And you, being the little dork you are, insist on getting a pic with your bf…just like everyone else!  Everything is going smoothly, but this one sleemo in line just won’t leave you alone.  It’s almost like they know about what’s going on between you two.

Warnings: None, just pure fluff. 

Notes: A little something for @jediskywalkerblog!  I really enjoyed writing this, made me feel all warm and giggly!  Hope you like it! ❤️

- What would happen the day the rest of the world finds out about you two? The day you finally come clean.

- In the back of your mind, the thought was always there. Normally you wouldn’t pay much attention to it. Since you both are so careful and keep such a low profile. But on a day like this one…when you’re literally surrounded by his fans. Well, it was kind of hard to ignore.

- To be fair, this was, mostly, your idea. You’ve wanted to go along with Hayden to a con for a while, because you’re so proud of him and, dammit, you support your man. But now that you’re here, seeing all these people, you can’t help feeling a tiny bit nervous. Maybe you should have stayed behind the scenes, instead of insisting on getting a photo with him like everyone else.

- As if on cue, the sound of Lord Vader’s breathing comes floating from his hoodie, that you ‘borrowed’, pocket. ‘Wonder who that could be,’ you joke to yourself while fumbling with your phone.

- Sure enough, it was a text from…

♡Big Dork♡: Have I told you how good your butt looks in those leggings? 😘

- Smiling, you discreetly glance over your shoulder. Hay was, of course, not standing there; only a wall of privacy curtains. But the longer you stare at it, you notice someone looking back at you through the crack.

- Shaking your head, you turn your attention back to your screen…

♡Little Dork♡: Shouldn’t you be taking pics with all these nice folks right now, instead of checking out my ass? 🤣

- Lord Vader breathes again…

♡Big Dork♡: I stepped out for a moment to enjoy the view. 😘 And to check up on you. Still doing okay? ❤️

- You give a small nod for him to see…

♡Little Dork♡: Yep. Now get back out here so I can get my turn with you. 🥰

- More breathing…

♡Big Dork♡: Don’t worry, there’ll be plenty of time for that later. 😉

- You roll your eyes and lock your phone. But, when you do so, you’re met by yours and the person behind you in line’s reflection.

- It was clear that they were reading your whole conversation with Hayden. Not wanting to make it into a big thing, you quickly shove it back into your pocket. Trying to act like you didn’t even notice.

- No such luck. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” they try to fakely apologize. “I hope you don’t think I was prying. I was only checking the ti-”

- Thankfully that’s when Hay stepped back out. The clapter and cheering of the crowd cut the sleemo short, ending the very uncomfortable chat. Or at least that’s what you hope.

- Spotting you, Hay instantly flashes you a smile. Which you, naturally, return.

- You don’t think much of it, but the sleemo certainly does. “Seems like Hayden and you are pretty friendly.”

- Your back stiffens. ‘Kriff! Kriff! Kriff!’ And you keep you eyes forward as you calmly reply. “Sorry, don’t know what you’re talking about.”

- “No?” The sleemo persists. “You smiled at each other just now. Could you possibly be-”

- “Next person, please!”

- Perfect timing. Refusing to let them ruin this special moment, you brush the sleemo off and go walking up to Hay.

- You two exchange mock pleasantries and pose for the camera all cutely (but not too cutely). Nice and smooth and totally discreet. Well, it was, until you turn to leave…

- “It was nice to meet you, angel. I hope to see you again real soon.” Hayden, out of habit, gives your bum a tap.

- You pause for a second. ‘Did he?! Really?! REALLY?!’ Then as quickly and nonchalantly as you can manage, you get the hell out of there. Praying that no one saw that.

- Pretending to act all nice, the sleemo follows you. “Miss! Excuse me, miss! You forgot your photo!”

- Trying your best to ignore them, you continue to weave through the crowd. Moving closer to the restricted access area. The one that Hay told you to go to if anything happened, that you’ll be safe there. ‘Come on! Come on! COME ON!’

- You almost make it too; the goal is just barely in sight. But as you’re fishing out your special pass, a hand grabs you by the shoulder. “I’m talking to you, little miss Hayden’s secret girlfriend!”

- Completely freezing up. You frantically think of what to do next when…

- “Hey! Take your hands off her!” Hay comes bursting out from behind the curtains, the most pissed off you’ve ever seen him. Like literal full blown Vader mode.

- The sleemo immediately lets you go, and you run over to him. “Hay!”

- Burying your face into his chest, he wraps his arms around you tightly. “It’s okay. I got you, angel,” he whispers, kissing the top of your head.

- “So she is your girlfriend!” The sleemo, who was paparazzi all along, shouts as security begins to surround them.

- By now a crowd has gathered. It’s almost deadly silent as they all wait to hear his answer.

- Gazing down, he flashes you a quick grin. “Yeah, she is! Happiest I’ve been in years!”

- “Me too,” you grin back. Standing on your tip toes, you capture his lips in a tender kiss.

- A beat more of silence…before it explodes in cheers and applause.

- “Guess it’s no longer a secret,” you giggle.

- “Yeah,” he chuckles. “Sorry.”

- “Don’t be, it’s nice to finally come clean about it.”

[moonstruckme]

I would love to see something from the beginning of poly!marauders relationship where they are figuring out that they all want to be together and learning how to make it work. I’ve always wondered how their relationship would start!

Thanks for requesting my love! It took me so long to get to it, I appreciate you being so patient with me <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

Sirius is playing with Remus’ fingers, and you’re trying to figure out if the ache of longing in your chest is some relative of jealousy. You don’t want it to be. Remus and Sirius are your friends, and you’re happy that they make each other happy. And honestly, looking at them now, with Sirius’ leg slung over one of Remus’ and Remus’ long fingers in his grasp, you’re not sure which one of them you’d trade places with if you could. 

Things have gotten…complicated, lately, though none of you are talking about it. Two weeks ago, James had kissed you, and you’d really, really liked it, but you’d felt obligated to confess your confusion to him. You do like James and want him to kiss you, but you can’t help feeling guilty for also harboring feelings for two other people at the same time. It wouldn’t feel fair to start something with James, who deserves all the best anyone has to offer, if you feel like you can’t be fully in it with him. 

And of course you’d known he’d be cool about it, but you hadn’t expected him to truly understand. He’d told you that Remus had kissed him back before he and Sirius had gotten together, and James hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the other boy either. Neither of you had quite known how to move forward in light of your admissions, but you’d agreed to put things between the two of you on hold for the time being. 

Then just yesterday, you’d been walking to class with Sirius, and he’d accidentally brushed your bum with his hand. The zing you’d felt was probably more a nervous response than anything else, but it had felt markedly different from the icky feeling you’d gotten when boys had touched you without your consent before. Sirius had been quick to apologize, and you’d waved it off, but you’d seen the look in his eyes. You aren’t usually one to flatter yourself by presuming anyone might have feelings for you, but the attraction in his gaze was unmistakable. 

You haven’t said anything to anyone about that, but even now, when he’s half atop his boyfriend, Sirius’ eyes keep flitting to where you’re working on your homework. 

“Anyone started on the potions essay?” Remus asks. 

“No,” says James. “Have you?”

“No.” 

You and Sirius both make quiet sounds of agreement. 

It’s silent again, the only sound the gentle scratching of pen on parchment. 

“Alright.” James sets his pen down with a thwap. “What’s going on with you guys?”

You look up, and he’s staring right at you. 

“What, me?”

“Everyone!” James shakes his head. “No one is talking to each other. Did something happen?”

You press your lips together, but Sirius blurts, “I told Remus I was into Y/N.”

James blinks, looking about as shocked as you feel but without the added embarrassment. You wish, not for the first time, that you could apparate straight out of Hogwarts. 

“It’s fine,” Remus says. “We’ve sorted it.” He gives you a kind look. “Don’t look so nervous, love, I wasn’t upset. It’s not like we don’t all have thoughts about other people sometimes.” 

Sirius looks unsurprised, and you gather that was a part of the conversation they’d already had, but James nearly chokes on air. 

“Do you?” he asks. 

Remus flushes, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly around Sirius’. “Sure. Sometimes.” 

James and Remus’ gazes are locked, a sort of heaviness building in the air between them, and you hurry to dispel the tension. “I mean, you’re all very good-looking,” you laugh. “It’d be impossible not to notice each other.” 

Sirius seems on board with your plan of levity, falling easily into his default flirtatiousness. “Yeah, gorgeous? Do you notice as well?”

For a second, your mouth works without sound, your thoughts flittering about your head like frenetic butterflies. You’re sure your face is turning a humiliating color. “I—I mean, like I said, it’s hard not to.” You clear your throat. “You don’t get to be the golden boys of Gryffindor for nothing.” 

“And here I thought it was our brains.” Sirius grins, letting you out the trap he’d unintentionally ensnared you in. “Well, if we’re known for our looks, then it makes sense why you’re part of the group too.” 

It takes you a second to catch his meaning, but you don’t miss Remus’ tiny nod of agreement. 

“Wait a minute,” James says, still looking between the lot of you like he’s refereeing a particularly perplexing tennis match. “So…Sirius and…who all here likes who?”

You go mute, as do the other boys. 

James nods, and he’s sticking his tongue in his cheek like he does when he’s nervous, but the set of his brows is resolved. “Okay, I can go first. I fancy each of you.” 

You look over at Remus and Sirius, but neither of them appear as shocked as you’d think the profession would warrant. Sirius opens his mouth like he has something to say, then shuts it again. 

“Trust me, I feel very weird about it,” James goes on anxiously. “I just wasn’t sure—”

“No, it’s alright.” Remus leans forward slightly, looking like he would reach out and comfort James if he were close enough. “I’ve…I’ve had similar thoughts.”

Sirius has ceased his toying with Remus’ hand, but he doesn’t let it go, looking down at their joined fingers. “Me too,” he says, not quietly but noticeably lower than his normal half-shouting volume.

“I never…I don’t really understand it all the way,” you admit. “But I think I like each of you too.” 

There’s another agonizing silence. Remus starts to brush his thumb gently over Sirius’ knuckles. 

“It doesn’t make any sense to me,” you say finally. “I see you two together, and I’m not jealous at all. But I like you both.” You look over at James, and your face hasn’t cooled at all, but it gets a new wave of heat now. “And you, too.” 

James gives you a little smile, and it’s like he can’t help himself, reaching over to give your shoulder a tiny squeeze. 

“I don’t think,” Remus says carefully, “that there’s anything wrong with that. I mean, it’s not like any of us doesn’t like anyone else, apparently. Just…what do we do about it?”

You and James exchange a look, but this suddenly feels like something you shouldn’t intervene in. You’re both single, but Remus and Sirius aren’t. 

“Well,” Sirius drawls with a nonchalance that’s definitely forced but so familiar that you’re grateful for it anyway, “if it’s alright with you, I think I’d like to date.” 

“You are dating,” you point out. 

Sirius shoots you a mocking look. “Date all of you, smart-ass.” 

James lets out a little laugh, and you smile a bit at Sirius’ brashness. The both of you look to Remus. 

Remus only shrugs as if you’ve asked him to comment on the weather. “S’alright with me.” 

James really does laugh now, the loud, hooting sound you love so much. “It’s alright? You really do know how to make someone feel special, Moons.” 

“Fuck off,” Remus laughs. “What else am I supposed to say?”

“Um, that we’re the most attractive people you’ve ever seen and nothing would make you happier?”

“Well there you go, James. You’ve said it for me.” 

The laughter dies out, the new awkwardness of more-than-friends settling over the four of you. 

“Well shit,” Sirius says after a minute. “What do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” you reply. “You’re the only ones who have been in a relationship, what do you guys do?”

Sirius looks at Remus, and Remus looks back. 

“What do we do?” Sirius whispers to him. “Do we…we go on dates sometimes, yeah?”

Remus nods, one corner of his lips twitching amusedly. 

Sirius turns back to you and James, nodding decisively. “A date,” he announces. “Pick you all up in, uh, our common room at eight?” 

“Eight is good for me,” James says, grinning so hugely you can’t help but smile with him. “Now, if we’re all done being weird—Y/N, lovely, could you help me with this charms homework? I’m dying over here.” 

You scooch closer to him, peering at his parchment and wondering if now you can stop cataloging all the places your bodies touch, your shoulder brushing his upper arm. 

“It looks fine to me,” you say after a moment. 

“I know, sorry” James replies, leaning into you so that the warmth of his arm seeps into your skin. “It was a charade.”

[kalifornia1025]

The Red Circle Pt. 1 (SPOILERS)

First part is up, let’s see what we’re dealing with!

Oof John’s already voicing his frustration over the tech issues; wonder how bad it could be

I both love and hate the sounds of John cleaning the mic, it sounds like he’s digging deep into my brain

Okay, we’re just at the end of a case?

Oh yeah, the mic is definitely bugging out

“My dear companion Doctor Watson” UGH HOW SWEET

What is happening?? WHAT IS GOING ON??

“This is going to be an 8 or 10 parter” OH REALLY John??

NONE OF THE ‘CASE’ RECORDED, that’s actually hilarious

“But was the best adventure yet” how great was it that it makes SHERLOCK say that??

Not them all reenacting the ‘case’ HAHA

Yeah John, Sherlock needs to get back to hanging upside down-WHAT

Oof Sherlock really said “you waffle so much that sometimes your random words help me solve the case” (he’s not wrong tho)

THEY DO MOVIE NIGHTS!!!

Awww Mariana’s meeting up with a friend from Hudson’s, how nice!

God, the irony of voice actors being bad at acting is incredible

Sherlock WOULD be the person asking questions during movies (and pointing out inconsistencies)

I love how you can still hear the ‘movie’ going on even when Sherlock & John are talking

This little exchange

John: “Door knock”

Sherlock: “Very observant”

John: “Is that sarcasm there?”

Sherlock: “Exceptionally observant”

John: “Well done”

Sherlock: “Thank you”

Ah!! Chipmunk voice jump scare!

Sherlock: “Is that right, John?”, John: “It’s right big guy” JOHN CALLED SHERLOCK BIG GUY

I feel John’s pain, I HATE having to explain movies to people

OH GOD NOT A REAL-HOUSEWIVES-ESQUE REALITY TV SHOW

“Good God, put the gangster film back on” SAME SHERLOCK

Awesome how Mariana and Imani are already fans of the reality show

“Why do women like that kind of stuff? It’s cruel, it’s vicious, destructive-KILL HIM, SHOOT HIM IN THE EYE”—I will never get tired of this ongoing joke with John starting a point and immediately contradicting it at the end

The ‘bullets through the bum and balls’ exchange shouldn’t be as hilarious as it is, yet here we are

Oooooh, so THIS is how we get the Red Circle case (hopefully it’ll make up for the ‘unrecorded case’)

THE MUSIC?! HELLO??

“The game is afoot” YES MARIANA WE GET TO HEAR YOU SAY IT

Oof John that mic is REALLY messed up

And that’s it for part 1! I was NOT expecting a hilarious start for this one. I can only imagine what ‘case’ we missed (lol), but Red Circle sounds interesting enough! Also, it’s cute hearing more domestic moments with the main trio. I mean they have MOVIE NIGHTS!! The fanfics were TRUE! Anyway, this is a fun start and it’s just the beginning of our 4-part adventure, so stay tuned….

[brofightiscancelled]

(taking a really long drag off a cigarette) i know the joke is that osomatsu at 18 is the exact same as osomatsu current but didnt he seem angrier to you. just in general. i cannot imagine how teenage angst would hit you if you were also a sextuplet

like he was probably as carefree and stupid as usual with literally everyone else to be fair. but w his brothers it's like ough. i wonder if the "getting sick of the sextuplet schtick" hit him the hardest in HS. he's the only one who isnt visibly annoyed in the sleeping scene but he's also the one saying "why are there six of us?"

i thibk osomatsu has genuine qualms w being a sextuplet. we see him complain abt it to chibita in episode 2. i dont think they were totally unfounded or made up on the spot, that's stuff he was holding deep in his core

and i think esp in an environment like high school, and w being such an egotistical brat, oso wouldve started resenting not having his own identity just like the others. i imagine he wouldve channeled his clingy brattiness into being a nuisance to all of his peers. it's just that now, in adulthood, he literally doesnt have anyone else in his life, so his brattiness has fallen back onto his brothers.

ironic to how he is now, i think the "why are you asking me? that's your problem" response to totty comes from resenting the sextuplet status quo they'd established as kids of them expecting him to know what to do and expecting to follow his lead and having eldest brother expectations of him forever and ever. why do you assume we're going to be together forever? don't you know i'm going to make it out on my own in the real world?

it's interesting it was between totty and oso cuz it seemed like hs totty wanted things to stay the way they were the most. regressing and acting even more kid like. so to me oso saying that to totty specifically is a like "why are you expecting things to stay the way they were forever?" kind of thing

i feel like (inhaling more smoke) it's kind of like the fight at their grad ceremony kind of unlocked those revelations for them. we've just had the worst fight of our lives but at the end of the day we all have to take the same route home to all sleep in the same futon. we're going to be brothers no matter what. for better or for worse we're shackled sextuplets forever and ever.

Everything just kinda clicks because even though he hates it, they're stuck together. And he doesn't have any idea on what he's gonna do, he knows Totty doesn't know what to do, and it's probably easy for him to guess that the rest of them don't know what to do either. They're stuck together and none of them have a plan for the future besides that. i think oso was coasting by on this idea that "everything would work out somehow" (very oso-like) and this is the wakeup call that no, if left unattended, this is how your problems will fester

i also really often think about 18oso's reaction to finding out they're neets in the future. yes this is funny yes this is deeply sad but i also remember being really taken aback by it when i first saw it

like obviously after you think about it for 1.5 seconds like, yes, obviously oso didn't realize at age 18 that he was going to be a jobless bum well into his 20s. being a jobless bum wasn't what he had envisioned for his life. but juxtaposed with how carefree current osomatsu is with his life it really is funny to realize like oh, yeah, there was a point in time, most of their life really, where they thought they'd be something when they were adults

i think oso had always wanted his own identity like any other teen, but now that the only people left in his life as an adult are his brothers he's just clinging to his identity as niichan. but maybe this is the smoke inhalation talking

i think if oso had any other friends than his twins he would not be this annoying. but he doesn't

[sirfrogsworth]

Adventures in Cooling

The 5-star rated HVAC repair service I used kind of depressed me.

It was almost... too good?

Like, they offer 24/7 service. They have a text message system that lets you know when the tech is coming. Every tech has their own custom van that serves as a giant advertisement. The entire process is documented with a tablet computer. Every serial number and model number must be photographed. He has to follow a diagnostic checklist. And an upsell checklist. And a repair checklist. He had so many checklists that at one point he pulled a card out of his wallet to make sure he didn't forget one of the steps. He had a poorly memorized speech for every upsell. You could tell he didn't have "his" tools, but the company's tools that he borrowed.

None of this was "bad" as far as a workflow. The service was flawless and nothing was forgotten. But you could tell that every detail was micromanaged and if the tech didn't follow the procedures to the letter, he would probably get some kind of demerit.

I felt sorry for my tech. He was in his 60s and clearly had a severe chronic knee injury. He walked slower than I do. He was quite monosyllabic and difficult to make conversation with. Not unpleasant, just not great at communicating.

At one point I asked him if I was a good candidate for a heat pump and he was like, "Everyone is."

End of advice.

Oh, and the uniform.

The uniform was very silly.

Every square inch of his shirt was meant to assure people they have a qualified technician. The one sleeve listed his certifications from some Alphabet Association that certifies such things. And then the other sleeve made sure to let me know my technician was drug tested and background checked.

The entire visit I kept trying to imagine how being stoned might negatively affect HVAC repair. I mean, if he was on a little cocaine perhaps we could have wrapped things up 30 minutes sooner. Marijuana might have helped him communicate. Opioids could make his knee feel better. I don't think shrooms would have been a good idea. If he hallucinated an angry fan monster in my A/C unit that could have been really awkward.

He was a terrible salesman—but for some reason, I fell for every upsell. Actually, I sold all of the upsells to myself in my head. I got a new filter and had him install it because I worried I would forget or I would install it improperly (not really possible, you just stick it in). But for the price I paid I could have bought 6 years worth of filters.

I just wanted everything sorted. I am so stressed and do not have the bandwidth to deal with A/C troubles. So I just said "yes" to everything. But the price kept inflating as we went along and every time it inflated he required a signature on his tablet.

This repair business had been corporatized to death and it made me miss all of my dad's friends from the old days who he would ask for favors. He always "knew a guy." He would trade car repairs for discounts on things we needed around the house. And they all worked for themselves and had their own tools and their own shitty truck and they all said, "There's your problem!" with the same masculine affect.

Their uniform was a flannel shirt and jeans and I bet some of them were high as fuck.

And this elderly gentlemen with the bum knee kept checking his checklist to make sure he checked every check because he feared managerial discipline.

He got to the sales pitch for the fluorescent dye. He was like, "Do you want this? You don't have to buy it." And I started selling it to myself in my head despite his assurance it wasn't really necessary. I worried if I had a big leak and I don't discover it until the middle of July, I would regret saying no in this moment. But then I realized he hated the dye injection process. And his poor salesmanship was mostly him not wanting his hands to be fucking radioactive yellow for the rest of the day. He tried wearing gloves to avoid it, but he still ended up with yellow hands and grumbled, "I really hate this stuff." Which was one of the few unrehearsed things he said to me the entire time.

Once the checklist was complete and the house was already starting to cool, he had one final sales pitch for me. He asked that I give his company a 5-star review and to make sure I mention his name. He told me that in July all of the techs with the most 5-star reviews will have their names put in a hat. And "the boss" will give one lucky employee a free vacation.

This vacation thing sounded like such a manipulation. And I'm sure "the boss" has instructed his techs to tell this tale of the free vacation so customers will be like, "Well, shit. I don't want this poor old guy with the shitty knee to miss out on that."

And it was then I realized just how this company got so many 5-star reviews.

Diabolical.

But the good news... my house is cold as heck.

And I keep shivering because I can't figure out the perfect setting on my thermostat. I guess I was used to the inefficiency and I will have to recalibrate.

[jayden-killer]

Unforeseeable incident.

(Loki x fem!reader).

summary: you agreed with your best friend Thor to come to Asgard, expecting you could take well the interdimentional voyage. Well, you didn't. And now you're stuck in a certain prince's bed...

warnings: none. This is a LOKI AU!! This takes place in an universe where Loki was never traumatised by Odin and the events of the first Thor movie don't happen!!!

☆

Hot.

What I felt on my skin was a suffocating heat that left me no time to breathe.

I could feel the drops of sweat on my forehead, and my breathing was straining as I regained consciousness. Until I opened my eyes with a startle. As if I were drowning in the open sea my lungs filled with all the air possible; I inhaled, I exhaled. I did it a second, then a third time, until my breathing settled. My first thought, looking around the room decorated with antique ornaments, illuminated by the light fire from the fireplace, was that it was certainly not on Earth. Had I been abducted? By aliens? Perhaps I sounded tempting for dinner.

Definitely.

All the thoughts in my head distracted me from the slender figure and well dressed in green and golden armor. The raven hair was well combed backwards. And those aquamarine eyes that reminded me of the salty expanse that I loved so much. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw me awake.

"My apologies, young lady, I didn't mean to startle you" was his kind voice.

"I am.. where?" That’s all I could say in the throes of curiosity and fear. If I was kidnapped, I had to at least know the name of my kidnapper.

"I offer you my sincere apologies on behalf of Loki, God of Mischief, son of Odin, and Frigga, brother of Thor and future King of Asgard". He bent down at the bed foot, his face quite close to mine. I could see the delicate features of his face, his lips rosy and thin...

Wait a second. Asgard. Thor..

Oh.

Now my little neurons were connecting.

My hand hit my forehead hard, making the slap ring throughout the room. The raven-haired boy let out an amused laugh. "Your brother is an idiot if he thought I would survive the Bifrost trip," I said, rolling my eyes.

"My brother is many things. Among these, he do not have any sense". He smiled again. "Foolish brother..."

"Right.."

Sitting down, resting my head on the soft (royal) pillow, I still looked around the lost room. It was clear that Asgard, one of the worlds of the Nine Kingdoms, had just come out of a chapter of the ``Lord of the Rings``. Everything seemed so... medieval.

"Make me guess, Prince Loki..."

He raised a hand in dissent and laughed. "I do not approve of the use of real titles, I find them retrograde. We may also be a different people from you Midgardians, however..."

This time it was my turn to interrupt him. "Midgardians?"

"Ah, yes," he smiled. "Mortals. Humans. Earthlings. Which one do you prefer?"

"Every of them, as long as you don’t use earthlings. It looks like I'm talking to an alien." I shuddered at the idea and he couldn’t help but laugh. He moved to the edge of his large bed, standing beside me, while maintaining a distance between us. "I will never do it again, I swear to the gods."

"But you are a God," I pointed out.

"Ah, correct answer, but I am not a superior God."

My eyes shrunk into two small slits, confused. "Okay, go ahead."

"As I said, you mortals are not accustomed to the use of our means of transport. It was clear that you would not be able to pass out at the end of the journey. No wonder my bum-head brother didn’t show you the instructions".

Now I was more confused than before. "Are there any instructions on how to cross it?"

"We’re not barbarians!" he replied, offering me a mischievous smile from those who knew each other. Then he stood up, not looking away from mine. He kept his smile curved towards the corner of his cheek, turning the bed and walking towards the door. Meanwhile I remained on the bed, never breaking the visual contact between us. It was intense, a visual contact that implied that between us it would be a deep future connection.

"Your Asgardian clothes are resting on the chair at the bottom of the room," he said softly, keeping the gold-plated knob in his hand.

"I’m going to have a chat with my stupid brother. You, instead, take it easy, Midgardian."

I think he meant the change of clothes.

Before he could let me fight with my thoughts soft eyes turned towards my direction with a mixed look of curiosity and malice, saying with confidence: "I expect to see you take part in the annual welcome back ceremony of the eldest son tonight. Don’t be late, Odin doesn’t like to wait". With this, he closed the door behind him, and I swore on my life to hear him sniggering. I think it was the third or fourth time I turned to look at the room I was in, in a state of confusion. As much confusion when I wondered aloud if Thor, in another universe, had measured his boldness better.