#i don't delete asks i just answer them years later

[starpros-sunshine]

You know. I'm part of the fraction "to each their own and let people handle their lives however they see best fit". But I do feel the need to say that I have seldom seen such an idiotic assumption as that breaking up with someone four days before someone's birthday when you also want that someone to do something for their birthday even though you know you and your soon-to-be-ex will both have to be there won't end with that person just not doing anything with anyone for their birthday. Partially because nobody wants that kind of awkwardness after a fresh breakup and also because the soon-to-be-ex has the lovely habit of wallowing in self pity and making everything about how they have it so bad. You know I just think in such cases you should've waited a week with the breakup. I don't care how much you want to fuck that other guy but I really think you should've waited a week.

[flowersforbucky]

magnetic field

erik lehnsherr x reader

word count: 2k

summary: takes place following the events of days of future past. reader is a mutant with elemental manipulation powers.

a/n: this goes out to the three erik/magneto fans that will read this 🤧 i don't have high hopes for this but i still thought i'd give sharing it a shot. very well may end up deleting it but we will see lol

warnings/tags: a little bit of angst but mostly fluff! kissing, suggestiveness, implied smut but nothing graphic

You just keep me coming back

Something about how opposites attract

You hold me down

I'm in it for real

Love me, leave me high and dry

I'm back in your arms and I don't know why

I can't get around your magnetic field

- magnetic field by lights

It's just past dusk on a Sunday evening when he shows up on your doorstep with drenched clothes and dripping wet hair.

You knew that you were bound to see him again one day. You just didn't expect it to be here, or quite this soon.

“What are you doing here, Erik?”

You cross your arms and lean against the frame of your small cabin's front door, wrapping your cardigan tighter around yourself as you take in his appearance.

It had only been a few months since you had last seen him in D.C., but those few months had taken their toll on him. Dark circles encase his eyes that appear almost hollow.

“It always seems to rain when you're feeling particularly nervous,” he says with a half smirk. Thunder booms from above as rain beats down harder on the tin roof of your porch.

“It's Oregon,” you shrug. You concentrate on keeping your voice even. “It's rained for the last five days.”

He's not wrong. You do tend to subconsciously make it rain when you're nervous.

He chuckles under his breath, taking a step closer to you. Your breath catches in your throat.

“Do you really have to ask why I'm here?”

Now it's you who avoids his question. You have your hopes as to why he's here, but you can't bring yourself to feed into them. Not after all this time - after years of trying to move on while he was imprisoned, followed by a brief reunion during the events of Paris and D.C. that left your heart shattered all over again just a few months ago.

Can you really let yourself believe that he's simply here for you?

You raise a single hand to the side of his neck, your palm caressing the wet skin of his throat. His eyes narrow but he doesn't flinch away, only watches you curiously.

A second later, his previously soaked clothes and sopping wet hair are completely dry. He glances down, realizing what you did as you reluctantly pull your hand away from his skin. You think maybe - just maybe - a hint of disappointment flashes through his eyes at the loss of contact.

“Can't have you dripping all over my carpet,” you sigh, turning to retreat back into the house. You hear the front door click shut and you know that he's followed your lead inside.

“So, why Oregon?” He asks hesitantly as he slips his coat off and hangs it on a hook in the foyer. You turn to find him taking in the appearance of the place you've been trying to call home for the last few months. His eyes skim over the piles of books scattered throughout the small living room, and then to the bouquet of wilted zinnias on your dining room table that you had picked in hopes of making the bland space feel more lively.

“I'll answer your questions if you answer mine,” you offer, leaning against the edge of your kitchen counter. He walks to the dining room table a few feet away from you and pulls out a chair, taking a seat in front of where you stand.

“That sounds fair enough to me, darling.”

Your heart skips a beat at the familiar pet name. It feels as if it's been a lifetime since you've heard him call you that.

“I came here once as a kid,” you answer simply. “After what happened a few months ago, I couldn't bring myself to go back to New York. Charles, the mansion.. everything reminded me of you. I just needed to get away for a while.

He looks down at his lap, unable to hold your gaze. “I have so many regre–”

“Your turn,” you interrupt as you turn to the cabinet behind you. You rummage through it, gathering a tea kettle and a mug.

You aren't ready to hear his apologies. As badly as your heart has wanted to hear that he's sorry for so long, to hear him say that he regrets ever doing anything to jeopardize what the two of you had - you don't trust yourself to not crumble into a million pieces at those words now that he's sitting in your kitchen.

“How did you find me?” You ask without looking back at him. You fill the kettle with water, and bring it to a boil in seconds with the snap of your fingers.

“I'll tell you,” he says over the sharp whistle of the kettle. “But you can't laugh at me.”

You snort, pouring the boiling water over an earl grey tea bag as you try to ignore the swell of bitterness in your chest at the nostalgia of it. Memories of this exact scenario in a different time and place flash through your mind - a happier, more innocent time and place. You carry the mug over to where he sits and place it in front of him before pulling out the chair next to him.

You hold out your pinky towards him, elbow on the dining room table. He cocks an eyebrow at you.

“I pinky promise that I won't laugh at you,” you say, little finger still extended. He leans forward, lips forming a smirk as he wraps his pinky around yours. His skin is every bit as soft and warm as you remember it being and you dread the moment that he pulls away.

“I went to the mansion,” he answers with his finger still secured around yours. “I snuck into Charles’ study when no one was home and found some letters you had written to him. I saw the return address on the envelope.”

“Huh,” you muse. “I guess I see why you made me promise not to laugh.” You're not sure what you were expecting his answer to be, but you didn’t think it would be quite so… human.

“Your turn to answer a question, darling.”

Your only response is a small nod.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” you answer, perhaps a bit too quickly. “I don’t.”

His posture slackens, relief taking over his features. He leans over to where your fingers are intertwined, and presses his lips to the side of your pinky finger. It has been years since his lips have touched your skin, but you melt at the familiar warmth all the same.

“Good,” he sighs in relief. His breath fans over your skin, leaving a visible trail of goosebumps over your hand. “I do not intend to leave unless you order me away.”

Your eyes burn with tears that threaten to spill over. His sudden appearance, his words, his mere presence after so much time apart is overwhelming. Despite it all, you can’t bring yourself to care about the reasons why you’ve had to spend so much time apart.

He’s here, and that’s enough for you. Everything else can be addressed in time.

You bring your free hand to his face, cupping his jawline in your palm. Your thumb skims over the stubble that graces his cheeks.

“What do we do now?” you wonder aloud. His pale eyes crinkle as he gives you the first smile that you’ve seen from him in years.

“We try to make up for lost time.”

••••••

You heat him some leftovers from the dinner you had made for yourself not long before his arrival, a bowl of chicken noodle soup and homemade bread. He scarfs the food and the tea that you'd made for him down within minutes, and then retreats to your cabin’s small bathroom to rinse off the last few days of cross-country travel. He had brought a singular duffel bag that now rests on the foot of your bed - which just so happens to be the only bed in the house, seeing as how it's a one bedroom and you live here alone.

Butterflies fill your belly at the implication. There was once a time where it never would have been a question - of course the two of you would have shared the only bed in the house. Now, doing so could very well mean diving back in too quickly and ending up broken all over again.

But then again, didn't that become a possibility the second that you opened your door to find him on your porch?

“What’s on your mind?” His soft voice sounds from behind you. You had been so lost in thought that you didn't hear him exit the bathroom and wander back down the hallway.

You turn to find him leaning against your bedroom door frame, wearing only a towel that hangs loosely from his hips. His chestnut hair still drips wet.

Your eyes flicker between him and the spare quilt that you have piled in your arms.

“You can sleep in here,” you tell him with a nod towards the bed that you'd just put a set of fresh sheets on. “I'll take the couch.”

He chuckles lowly, standing up straight as you walk towards the door, blocking your exit.

“Don't be silly. I'm not going to kick you out of your bed in your own home,” he tells you in a gentle but firm tone.

“You're not kicking me out of my bed,” you assure him. “I'm offering it to you.”

Your cheeks warm under his gaze that you struggle to hold - your eyes threatening to wander down the expanse of his chest with the rise and fall of each breath that he takes.

“It's loads comfier that whatever cot that you were sleeping on in prison, I promise,” you jab at him lightly when he doesn't respond.

He hums in consideration, taking a step closer to you.

“It's not the cot that I minded so much while I was in prison. It's the fact that any bed without you in it feels empty.”

A clap of thunder booms in the distance at the same time that your heart skips a beat.

“I'm not expecting anything to happen, darling,” he assures you lightly. “We don't even have to touch. After so much time apart, I just want to be next to you.”

You exhale a breath that you didn't realize you had been holding in, and place the quilt in your arms on the dresser right next to you.

“Don't be silly,” you repeat his sentiment from just moments ago. You take a step closer to him, now able to smell hints of Old Spice soap from his shower. “Of course you can touch me. If that's what you want.”

“If that's what I want?” He scoffs softly, inching towards you. You place your hands on his hips, walking backwards until your thighs brush against the edge of your mattress. You're lodged between him and the bed, his bare chest practically brushing against yours.

“As if I’d ever not want that.”

He raises his hands to each side of your face and tilts your head up to look at him. His thumb massages over the swell of your bottom lip, his eyes locked on your mouth.

“Erik,” you breathe, and before you can get out another word, his lips are slated over yours. You pull him flush against you by your hold on his waist.

When you close your eyes and focus solely on the feeling of his mouth moving in synchrony with yours, you forget where you're at and everything that's happened over the course of the last decade. In this moment, you're not in a run down cabin in the middle of nowhere Oregon - you're in the courtyard of the mansion and he's kissing you for the very first time.

“I missed you so much,” he whispers against your mouth when he pulls away. You raise up on your toes, pressing your lips against his one more time before pulling back to stare up at him with a smirk. You sit down on the edge of the mattress and scoot back, pulling him down with you.

“Then let's make up for lost time.”

You don’t notice it until you're drifting to sleep in each other's arms hours later, but the thunderstorm that had been raging upon his arrival had slowed to a silent, peaceful mist.

thank you for reading ♡ comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!!!

[ashwhowrites]

What about an Older! Mechanic! Eddie x Reader who's the daughter of Eddie's best friend, (Steve, Gareth? Idk) but in the beginning they hated each other, like they didn't have anything in common, but after a night when reader was kinda drunk she just found Eddie and he helped her getting to her house, and reader says something like you're cute, but you're an asshole and some days after Eddie's still thinking about it, they end up finding each other again at some shop in the town, and they decide to get something to drink and they end up finding out that maybe, they really don't hate each other, and start flirting a lot! Eventually they became a couple and Reader's dad is like I knew you liked Eddie, but he's not mad bc his daughter's an adult

I love older! eddieeeeeeee. I always picture him with a beard and it's so hard not to constantly write about that detail of him. But I never know if Eddie girls, guys, and thems also like Eddie with a beard? Well anyway, I wrote this fic and loved it, then realized I slowly slipped away from some details of the plot you included. So I truly hope this fic is okay and you still absolutely love it. I hope it's what you wanted, even though some of it was changed. I just really liked the scenes I wrote and didn't have the heart to delete it. It felt too good to me. As always, thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Cute, but an asshole

Y/N couldn't stand when Eddie came over. She understood he was her dad's best friend, but he was rude, a single loser who slept around town and everyone was obsessed with him. Sure, he was attractive and charming, but she couldn't handle all her friends hoping he'd stop by.

Her friends loved it when Eddie was around. He'd sit and flirt with all of them, they'd flirt back and Y/N was left watching. Maybe there was a small hint of jealousy she felt, knowing her friends caught his eye but she hadn't.

Eddie did notice her, he noticed her in ways he never should have. Gareth moved away after high school, got married, and had a kid. Twenty-three years later, he came back and Eddie met Y/N. And he knew he was in big trouble when he noticed how gorgeous she was. The easiest way for him to keep a distance from her was to simply ignore her existence. He knew it worked when she began to glare and snarl whenever he was in the room. Then she started getting mean back and her smart mouth pissed off Eddie in many ways.

Then she got a boyfriend and Eddie swore he'd never been so jealous in his life.

"So, Randy what do you go to school for?" Gareth asked, slowly twirling his pasta as the table sat in silence. Y/N smiled towards Randy as encouragement, and he happily answered. The two stuck in a conversation as Eddie rolled his eyes.

Y/N noticed his rude behavior all night. Whenever Randy talked, he'd mock him, discredit him, and belittle him.

Randy kissed her goodbye at the door, her smile quick to come off when she turned to march towards Eddie. He sat at the table with a smirk and drank his beer. Gareth in the kitchen, cleaning the dishes, unaware of the heated tension in the dining room.

"What the fuck is your problem?" She snapped, her foot coming forward and kicking him in the shin.

He bit his lip as he groaned in pain. "You can't seriously like that guy." Eddie said, trying to hold back a laugh. "he's a total square."

"I do like him! And there's nothing wrong with being well-mannered." She sassed, her eyes giving Eddie a look over. A look to tell him that he was the exact opposite.

But Eddie was older, and he knew exactly how those young guys wound up. "trust me, honey. Those guys stick around to get in your pants, then he's on to the new thing. He's a rich spoiled kid, he'll get rid of you once you aren't a shiny pretty thing anymore." Eddie said, standing up as he mockingly patted her head.

She swore steam was coming out of her ears. She smacked his hand away and marched off to her room.

What did he know, he was in his late forties and single. He knew nothing about relationships.

~~~

But when Y/N walked into a bar on what was supposed to be a romantic night, she thought Eddie deserved more credit for his wisdom.

Tonight was meant to celebrate her and Randy's five-month anniversary, but he never showed. She felt like an idiot for liking the guy. Sure, she knew she didn't love him, but she liked him and he was a good distraction. In ways, he made her feel confident, beautiful, and special. Which was all taken away within hours. She called and called, no answer on his end as she sat at the restaurant.

She didn't want to believe Eddie was right, but he was. Y/N knew the second she finally had sex with Randy that she'd regret it. And here she was, not even two days later being ghosted. Instead of moping at the restaurant, she went where everyone drank away their problems.

That's when Eddie found her, completely drunk and flirting with the bartender.

Eddie was a regular at the bar, he didn't have much going on in his life and enjoyed the social drinking. But he didn't expect to see his best friend's daughter completely wasted and batting her eyelashes at the bartender. He gave in, of course, and Eddie couldn't judge him for it. If Y/N looked at him like that, he'd be a puddle at her feet.

"Alright, sweetheart. Think you've had enough." Eddie said as the bartender slid her another glass. She pouted and whined as Eddie slid the drink back over.

"Don't think so. Hand it over, Bobby." She slurred but Eddie interfered again.

"Stop! You're not like my dad or boyfriend. So fuck off." She spat, successfully getting the drink as she chugged it down.

"I'll fuck off after I get you home, safely." He said in a stern tone. Cash was slammed on the table and he was fast to grab her hand and began to pull her off the stool. When the room started to spin, she lowered her guard and let him take her home.

The car ride was dead silent, the air was uncomfortable and she wasn't sure if she needed to puke.

"I need air." She managed to get out as she gagged. Eddie was quick to pull over, helping her unbuckle her belt and then getting out of the car. She was surprised by how gentle and caring he was. The way he helped her out of the car and sat next to her on the curb.

The fresh air called her stomach and she took deep breaths. She knew the hangover tomorrow was going to be an ass to deal with.

"What are you helping me?" She asked, her eyes closed as she concentrated on not puking.

"Because I'm not a terrible person." Eddie shrugged. His eyes were on her, taking the chance to admire her up close. He never allowed himself this close to her. And even if she reeked of a run-down bar, he wanted to be closer.

"Ha, funny." She faked and laughed. "You are the biggest asshole I've ever met. Well until Randy anyway."

Eddie let the name-calling slide as he focused on the second part. "what did he do?"

"Not like you care. You'd probably get to tell me I told you so and rub it in my face that I'm some stupid young girl who doesn't know anything." She scoffed, her eyes open just to glare at him. She wanted to glare the soft look in his eyes away. Why was he looking at her like that? Did he always smell this good? Finally being face to face, inches away, she instantly knew why girls never looked away.

"I do care about you. And you're not dumb, he's dumb. You are young, but that doesn't mean you don't know anything. Talk to me." He said, his hand softly resting on her knee. She tried to ignore the way it made her heart flutter.

If she was sober, she probably wouldn't have given in. But she was drunk and the words rolled off her tongue.

"We had sex, and he disappeared on me. I mean you were right," she said as she turned her head to fully face him. The pain was easy to tell in her eyes as Eddie felt his stomach drop. "I'm not a pretty shiny thing anymore. He got what he wanted and that's all I was good for." Tears filled her eyes as she looked away. She felt embarrassed to admit to Eddie he was right.

Eddie wrapped his arm around her shoulder and brought her body into his. Her head was in his neck as she softly cried.

"I shouldn't have talked to you like that. Yeah, he's a dick and I knew that. But I'm sorry for ever making you think you are just a shiny thing for boys. You are beautiful, so smart, and incredibly sexy. Anyone would be lucky to have you. You are worth so much more than sex. Don't let that idiot make you think differently." Eddie said into her hair, his chin on the top of her head as he rubbed her arm.

"If I'm all those things, why do you hate me so much?" She asked, keeping herself hidden in his neck.

"I don't hate you."

"Yes you do," she scoffed, pushing herself away from him. But his arm still lingered on her shoulder. She wiped away her tears, "You always ignore me, you never notice me! But you notice all of my friends and spend all your time flirting with them. So there's something you don't like about me" She rolled her eyes as she finished speaking.

"You're right," he sighed, Y/N tried to hold back more tears, "there's something I don't like about you." His hand reached down to her chin and moved her head to look back at him. Her wet eyes looked into his. "I hate more than anything that you are my best friend's daughter and that it's completely inappropriate to feel the things I feel for you."

Y/N wasn't sure what to say, her eyes stuck on him as she listened to his words. She didn't want to admit anything unless her sober self did it first.

"You're much cuter when you're not being an asshole." Y/N laughed, trying to ease how tense their conversation became. But the confession made her heart swell.

"Let's get you home, kid." He laughed, standing up and taking her hand.

~~~

It's been a week since that night and Eddie found himself too nervous to see Gareth or Y/N. He confessed all his thoughts to a drunk Y/N, who probably didn't remember the night.

He felt guilty for ignoring her for his benefit. He didn't connect the ways that she could have felt hurt and it made sense why she built that wall with him. But now he wanted her to break it down, and he wanted her. He wanted to make her feel special and worthy.

But he knew he caused some wounds and the hurt lingered on her and it wasn't his place to rush her healing.

Eddie was lost in his thoughts as he stared ahead at the cereal aisle.

"Thinking hard, huh?" He heard a voice come from behind him. He jumped out of his thoughts and turned around. Y/N stood there with a cart and a smile on her face.

"Hi, stranger. How have you been?" Eddie asked, he hated how nervous he felt but she looked happy and she spoke to him, so that had to mean something good.

"I've been good. Things with Randy are done for good." She said, Eddie nodded. That means she remembered that night. "and I wanted to thank you for helping me get home that night."

"It wasn't a big deal. I'm happy to help."

"Well I need to go, dad has me on a time limit." She laughed, Eddie smiled but felt a little bummed their talk had to be cut so short. She began to walk past him, then stopped and looked over her shoulder.

"Oh Eddie," she said, he turned to look back at her. "I have inappropriate feelings for you too." She sent a wink and walked off. But Eddie was frozen in the aisle with a smile on his face and a flutter in his stomach.

~~~

A few days later, Eddie was pulling up to Gareth's house. A case of beer in his hands as he knocked on the door.

And to his delight, Y/N opened the door. She was in sweatpants and a tank top, a night in.

"I'm sorry, my dad got called into work. But you are welcome to come in!" Y/N said, stepping aside as Eddie walked in.

"Beer?" He asked, holding up the case.

~

Half the case was gone as they settled on the couch and talked all night. It turned out they had more in common than they believed. They had a similar taste in movies and music. Same opinions on food and people in town.

The more they talked, the closer their bodies got.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Y/N whispered, her face inches away from Eddie's.

"Oh absolutely, darling." Eddie laughed, moving his face closer to hers. Practically nose to nose.

"I've always thought you were so fucking hot. I mean, I still do. You have this strong jaw, aged eyes, and major sex appeal. I can't tell you how many friends I stopped talking to after you flirted with them because I was so jealous." She explained a confession she was sober enough to make.

Eddie fought off the huge blush he felt on his cheeks.

"That jealous? That's so hot." Eddie whispered, a dark look over his eyes. "Want to make them jealous?" His lips were inches from hers as he cupped her jaw.

Y/N knew what he was hinting at and god did she want it.

"Definitely," she smiled, his lips pressed against hers as he devoured her. The kiss was heavy and hot. Set her body on fire and made her see stars. Eddie moaned in the back of his throat as she climbed on his lap. Her hands ran down his toned back.

He couldn't control himself, his hands worked down her body and landed on her thighs. He gave them a quick squeeze before he moved them to her ass. She moaned as his hands squeezed her ass, her hands moved to under his shirt, her fingernails scratching his chest and feeling his chest hair.

Their moans and groans filled the empty house as their tongues battled and tasted each other.

~~~

After their heavy moment together, the flirty looks and comments couldn't stop. Whenever Eddie was over to see Gareth, Y/N couldn't help herself. Whenever her dad left the room, her lips and hands were on Eddie in seconds. That not he complained, kissing her was his favorite thing in the world.

It didn't take long for them to start going on dates and becoming a couple. Gareth knew Y/N was dating and had a boyfriend, he just wasn't sure who it was. He had a feeling it could have been Eddie, he knew his daughter and she was easy to see through. Eddie had a better poker face so that's where Gareth was stuck.

Y/N could have been dating a different guy but had a massive crush on Eddie. But it wasn't his place to force answers, he'd wait until she was ready to tell him.

~

Y/N was waiting by the door, Eddie was on his way to pick her up for their date. Gareth respected her privacy and didn't sneak to see who's been picking her up.

"Hey, kid. I got to tell you something." Gareth said, Y/N walked over to the opening of the living room where he sat on the couch.

"What's up?" She asked her eyes on the clock.

"I know you have a thing for Eddie," Y/N froze in her spot and her eyes went wide. She went to deny but her dad kept on taking it. "And I just wanted to tell you before you got your hopes up. But he's dating someone. He's never been serious with anyone before but this girl he's locked into."

Gareth watched as a tiny smile that was quick to appear was also quick to disappear from her face. But she didn't look upset, and that's how Gareth felt like he already knew.

"And you aren't upset at all," Gareth said with a smirk. "I thought you'd be crushed."

"Oh well, you know. Just a crush." She said as she tried to brush it off.

"Y/N, I know the girl is you," Gareth said, taking a sip of his beer as she stood shocked. "I have a feeling why you both tried to hide it, not very well might I add. If you wanted it a secret, maybe don't let him feel you up in the hallway. But I want you to know, you are both adults, and I just want you to be happy."

Y/N blushed embarrassed at the thought of her dad watching her boyfriend feel her up. But she felt happier than ever to know her dad accepted Eddie.

"Thank you, dad." She said, she walked over and leaned down to hug him.

"I'll still kick his ass if needed."

Y/N laughed and bid her goodbye. A bright smile on her face as she walked out and met Eddie halfway.

"What's with the big grin?" Eddie asked

"My dad knows," before she could finish her sentence, Eddie was already running to his car and starting the engine.

He may have been older, but he still reacted like a child sometimes. But hey, she wouldn't want it any other way.

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[peterparkersnose]

hey there, first i would like to thank you for taking my request cause i love your writing so much and it is a special request that I could only read from you, it's a joel miller x fem reader, fluff age gap (ofc not illegal), i find so much comfort in your joel's fics, so, thanks again and wishing you the best. <33

Stargazing

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

word count: 3.7k

warnings: age gap, ellie plays matchmaker (common troupe), alcohol consumption, drunk confessions, mutual pining, anxiety and overthinking, this is a heavy dialouge fic, joel being awkward, just general awkwardness but fluff at the end I promise :)

a/n huge shoutout to the person who asked this! i was silly while editing this and accidentally deleted their ask, and they were kind enough to resubmit it for me. also, just a side note almost in every one of my joel fics there is an age gap, I just don't normally specify it but with this one they really deep dive in to it. I'm sorry but I am a younger person, I don't think I could write from the viewpoint of someone close to my parents age.

summary Ellie tries to set Y/N and Joel up on a date

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read time: 13 mins 34 seconds

It was past closing time in the bar. Maria, Tommy, and Joel sat around the dimly lit bar at the last table. Tommy had assured the bartender that he would close up; Tommy was more than capable to.

“Truth or dare,” the drunk man slurred. All three of them were collectively wasted. Joel sighed, downing another shot. He felt seconds later that he shouldn’t have. “Truth.” Joel spit out. This seemed like the hundredth round of this childish game Maria insisted on playing.

“Who in all of the population here would you want to bang in bed on your last night alive?”

Joel knew the answer immediately. A secret he had been keeping to himself for the few years he has known you. And the secret he had been denying and denying for so long. He knew Tommy was fishing for something. But that last shot began to ring through his system as he spoke. He let out a disappointed sign.

“Y/N.”

Maria snorted, almost falling out of her chair. Tommy looked at Joel with his brows furrowed. “What?” Joel asked in defense. “Joel, ain’t she like 20?”

“22.” he said in defense. There wasn’t much to defend, he was a great much older than you. And Joel was more ashamed than ever. He had known you since you were 19, ever since you helped escort Ellie across the country. It felt gross, it felt wrong. But whenever he thought of you, something just couldn’t resist. Your mannerisms, the way your voice sounded, how you responded to maturely to everything. You were an old soul, one that Joel got along with well. Crossing the platonic line never crossed his mind until he settled down in Jackson.

Joel’s eyes darted to the floor. “Hey, you said anyone!” he argued. Maria could not contain her laughter, almost falling on the floor. “Whatever. You guys suck.” he said, pushing his glass of whiskey that was almost finished off towards Tommy. Joel got up and began to leave. “I shouldn’t have said nothin’.”

“Hey!” Tommy yelled after him, over Maria’s laughing. “Quit it,” he muttered at her, making her laugh even more. “Joel-”

It was too late. He drunkenly made his way down the street and to his house. The light in your bedroom was still on he noticed. Joel wasn’t being a stalker and being weird, but you were his neighbor. What were you doing up so late? Reading something he figured. Or talking with Ellie, the girl really seemed to never shut up. As he was about to turn away, you came to the window. Confused of why Joel was out so late, you opened it. The cool spring breeze entered your room.

Joel seemed to panic, and pretended to have not noticed you at all.

“Miller!” he heard you yell. He stopped in his tracts and turned around. “L/N!” he called back. The repetition of your gesture towards him made you smile.

“What you doing up so late? Don’t you have patrol with me tomorrow morning?”

Joel let out a sigh. His hands rested on his hips. “God, is that tomorrow?” he lied. He totally knew. He was looking forward to it all week. “Yup. 7 sharp. Better get to bed, old man.”

The old man comment definitely hurt his ego. He couldn’t pick up on it, but that was your way of flirting. Teasing almost. But to Joel it just proved to himself that you just wanted to be friends—when you totally wanted the opposite.

“And what are you doing up so late?”

You held up the landline phone in to view. “Ellie,” you sighed. “Get some sleep!” he called, and began to head back to his house. The vision of you in your nightgown was getting too much for him, making him realize he wanted things he never thought he could ever want again. “Goodnight Joel,” you called. He waved, and entered his house.

You flopped down on your bed after you closed your curtains. Holding your pillow over your chest, you squeezed it hard. Your stomach fluttered as you childishly re played the memory of what had just happened. Finally, your bedroom light went out.

-

“Y/N,” Ellie sang, circling into your kitchen. It was your fault for leaving the back door open on such a nice day. It unfortunately tracked in things such as unwanted Ellie’s. It was midday, your patrol with Joel had ended about an hour earlier.

“Yes?” you sang back, sitting on your couch and looking up from your book. “I have news.”

She came and sat down next to you. “And what is this news? Is it important enough to distract me from my book?” you asked. Ellie sensed your pissed off tone.“Bookmark the page. You’ll never guess what I heard.”

“Ellie, if this is gossip—” you sighed, setting the book down next to you. “It’s not gossip when it involves you,”

You sighed and rolled your eyes, praying Maria didn’t share one of your embarrassing stories you confided in her. Everyone knew Maria had a big mouth. You slowly crept forward “What is it?”

“Joel has a crush on you.”

A quick laugh escaped from your lips. Ellie looked at you confused. “I-I’m telling the truth.” Your laughter continued. “I call fucking bullshit. Where did you hear that?” “Dude, Maria straight up told like everybody in the dining hall today.”

Your face scrunched. "What?"

“Your definitely fucking with me Ellie. Not funny.” you laughed.

“No!” Ellie exclaimed. “She got wasted with Joel and Tommy last night and he confessed that he would ‘bang you out of everyone in this town’ according to Maria.”

So that’s what he was doing out so late last night.

The thought of the older man that escorted you and Ellie across country a few years ago having a crush on you was absurd. Wasn’t it?

“Well, I thought you should know because remember what you said when we passed through that one small town and…”

She was waiting for you to confirm the pushed down memory that lived in your brain rent free.

It was a small midwestern town in the middle of nowhere. You and Ellie sat outside a coffee shop Joel was currently ransacking for supplies. It was a nice day like today, you and Ellie were sitting on the steps keeping watch as Joel went through the kitchen.

“You know, if the world wasn’t shit I would like my own store. Maybe a coffee shop, it sounds nice. Calm, definitely.” Ellie confided in you. “What would you be doing?”

Your foot tapped on the concrete as you thought to yourself. What would you be doing?

“I would be in college by now. For what, I’m not sure. I would have eventually liked to be married but… that’s never gonna happened.”

“Never say never. You always have Joel.”

You scoffed and giggled. But you had to admit, you had gotten to know the older man well. He was bitter, but you saw through the cracks sometimes. He was quite handsome anyways. Something about his rugged appearance and peppery hair just sat right with you. He had a few soft moments with you along the journey, patching you up after a fight or comforting you after a nightmare that Ellie didn't know about. But that was ridiculous. Ellie was talking nonsense.

You laughed out loud to Ellie’s suggestion, just like you had previously. “Don’t deny it. I see the way you look at him Y/N.”

“Your full of shit,” you joked, giving Ellie a slight push on her shoulder.

“Joel would make a nice husband though. Strong, resourceful, handsome. If I had to pick… sure. I’d be Mrs. Miller any day.”

When you said the words you wanted to suck them back in. Too soon, too much, too quickly. Ellie stared at you blankly. Joel exited the building at the perfect time with a few cans of fruit and spoons. Perfect timing. You remembered the awkward silence as you ate on the pineapple bits, but the phrase rung in your head for days.

“Mrs. Miller”

Being brought back into reality, the memory of expressing interest in Joel re lit something in you. You felt your stomach churn.

“Ah… see?” Ellie exclaimed. Your face turned red as you wanted to bury it in your book. “Mrs. Miller!” she yelled, leaving the living room towards the kitchen and out the back door.

“Ellie!” you yelled firmly, following her with your fists clenched. “Where are you going?”

“To find Joel.”

“Why?” you asked panicked, finally catching up to her on the street panting. You were more nervous than ever to hear her response. “To set you and Joel up on a date, duh!”

"Ellie!" you scolded her, looking around to make sure no one heard her. "What?" she whined, breaking away from your eye on her and making a straight line for Joel's house. To your luck, he was in his garden tending to his flowers. He hadn't seen either of you yet.

You let out a quiet shout, a simple “Ah!” as Ellie pranced down the street. You couldn't watch it, you couldn't look. You ran back in to your house and shut the back door behind you. Sliding down the back of the door and sitting on your kitchen floor, you prayed he responded positively. Or that Ellie was just trying to scare you in a ‘I’m telling the teacher but actually just asking to go to the bathroom’ way. And if Ellie actually went through with her plan, you hoped he didn't take this the wrong way. Even though you really didn't think he would. Would he?

-

It was the next day. You had refused to leave your house in sheer embarrassment. Running in to Joel right now was just a no. You had just gotten out of the shower when you heard the pattering of feet in your downstairs. Praying it was Ellie, you grabbed your knife and held your towel against your chest. "Ellie?"

"Oh, there you are!" she exclaimed. You sighed. "You know, you cant just break in to my house whenever you want." you said, sticking your knife in to your banister.

"It's important!" Ellie exclaimed. "Is it important enough to wait until I can get dressed?"

"He said yes."

You were confused. "Who said yes?"

"Joel!"

Your mouth slightly dropped. "And when did I agree to this?" you asked, venturing in to your bedroom to get dressed. In all honestly, you could have stood and talked to Ellie for a few more minutes comfortably in your towel, but you wanted to hide the wide grin that couldn't seem to leave your face even if you tried.

"When you told me you wouldn't mind being Mrs. Miller," Ellie teased, acting like she was stating the obvious. You poked your head out of your door and looked down your stairs and gave Ellie a sour expression. "I only want you to be happy, that's all!"

"I'm perfectly fine as it is. I didn't need you meddling in my life."

"Well, nobody else was going to do it. We all see how your cooped up here, reading all day. We just want to make sure your okay."

You came out of your bedroom dressed, wrangling out the ends of your wet hair with a towel. You met Ellie at the bottom of the stairs. "And who is we?" you questioned. Ellie sucked her teeth. "You caught us," she chuckled, staring at her converse. "Tommy and Maria and...maybe Dina?"

You sighed audibly, closing your eyes for a moment. "All three of you! Wow." you said somewhat sarcastically.

"Ellie!" you heard a yell from outside. It was her new friend, Dina, who she was almost inseparable with.

"Gotta go." she said, opening your front door and skipping down your steps.

"Ellie- wait!"

She turned around and looked at you, you saw Dina anxiously waiting for her. "When is he coming?"

Ellie shrugged. "Dunno. He said he'd be around."

Your face scrunched in confusion. Be around...?

Before you could ask any follow up questions, the two girls were gone.

———

“This is so damn stupid,” Joel whispered to himself. His doubt was creeping in. The bouquet was hidden behind his back. Fresh picked from his garden, tied off with a bit of twine. His other hand was about to knock on your door. It wasn’t too late… 7 o’clock? You wouldn’t be in bed yet, right? Knock knock.

There was some shuffling from inside the house, and you opened the door. Almost yanked the door open, actually. Joel took a step back due to the commotion. “Joel?” you nervously asked, pretending you weren’t anxiously waiting for the random arrival of your not-so blind date all day. “W-what are you doing here?” you asked, playing dumb.

“If it’s not a good time I can-”

“Oh—no! It’s perfect, d-do you want to come in?” you asked the older man, looking up at him. Joel never seemed as intimidating as he did now. And you’ve seen him torture people before.

You let Joel in to your house as the two of you just stared at each other awkwardly. What did you really have to talk about? 

“What are those?” you asked anxiously, referencing down to the flowers in his hands.

“Oh!” he exclaims, kicking himself mentally for not remembering to give them to you. “There for you. Fresh from my garden.” 

You recognized the flower as tulips, your favorite. Joel was touched by the sparkle that came to your face once he presented them to you. Accepting them, your hands grazed his a bit. The both of you let go, almost dropping the flowers on the floor. An awkward laugh was exchanged. “Thank you, there beautiful.” you sighed in awe, moving in to the kitchen to get a glass to put them in. “How did you know tulips were my favorite?”

“Wild guess?” Joel responded. Not from Ellie prepping Joel for this date, not at all. 

“So what did you have in mind for tonight?” you asked, cutting off the stems of the tulips so they would fit in the glass jar you had filled with water. 

“Uh,” Joel mumbled. “I- you know that trail around the fence?”

“Up the mountain?” you asked him, setting the flowers down in the middle of your table. “Yeah. Your up to it?”

“That's a great idea, Joel.”

He let out his breath he was holding, thrilled that you agreed to his idea. Ellie said it was stupid, that walking the trails at night could be creepy. Ellie suggested a nice dinner, but Joel thought that was just so boring. Every date he had ever been on had basically been a nice dinner. He had this planned ever since Ellie even brought up the idea of a possible interest in pursuing Y/N.

Stargazing. 

The cool air was refreshing. You kept in rhythm with Joel. He was slower than you, and he was worrying that it would be a turn off for you. But you didn’t mind. You enjoyed taking in the silent night and the hums of nature slowly.

The moon was full and it was a clear night. The trail was overgrown, but still manageable. Joel had trekked up here earlier that day to get ready. As the clearing began to come in to view, Joel felt his anxiety rising. What if you didn’t like it? What if he put too much effort in to it and you thought it was weird? Joel was a quiet kept man, but his thoughts were screaming almost constantly. 

“Joel!” you gasped, stopping at the edge of the clearance. 

A blanket was laid on the ground with a few decorative pillows. A canteen with two cups sat on the grass along with a book and a lantern. Joel reached down and clicked the lantern open, and it began to emit a soft warm light. It wasn’t like the harsh, recreational ones that would blind you. 

“Did you do this? It’s… beautiful.”

Joel’s eyes cast up at you. “It’s nothing much…”

You sat down next to Joel on the blanket he had set out. “Nothing much?” you chuckled, taking in the beautiful view that shown over an abandoned city where Jackson got a lot of their supplies from. 

“I think this is the nicest thing a guy has ever done for me.”

“Then you obviously haven't met many nice guys,” Joel said, his voice shaking slightly. He realized how detrimental and self-deprecating that sounded and tried to re-phrase it. “You haven't been on many dates… right?”

And that now sounded predatory. “I-I mean-”

“Actually, this is my first date. Ever.”

Your confidence and comfortability answering him calmed Joel’s nerves. “I don’t mean to pry,” you began. “But did you ever have someone? Like before all this. And if you don’t want to reply that’s okay, I was just wondering but-”

Joel chuckled a bit at your eagerness. “Nah, no worries.” he re assured you, slowly moving his arm around you. Accepting his touch, you moved in to his embrace as the two of you stared up at the stars. “I had a wife- she was my ex-wife. My daughter’s mother. We had her real young, and she just wasn’t ready for the commitment of a family.”

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, watching a blinking star above. “It’s alright. Gave me the best life I could have ever asked for, for thirteen years.”

“And your daughter?”

Joel knew this was bound to come up sooner or later, just not this soon. He didn’t even realize he mentioned Sarah until you asked your follow up question. “She didn’t make it past outbreak day like most people didn’t.” he said bluntly. “But anyways,” he said quickly, saving the awkward response from you. “What about you? Any family?”

“Just Ellie. No relation as you know, but she’s my sister.” Joel nodded. There wasn’t much in this world, and family became what you made it. “What’s that?” you asked, perking your head up from Joel’s chest and pointing over to the grass. “What?” he asked. “The coffee or the book?”

You gasped. “You got coffee?”

He smiled and smirked. “I’ve always wanted to try coffee!” you exclaimed.

Joel looked at you with an odd look. “Your tellin’ me you've never had coffee?”

“No!” you exclaimed. “I used to have this every morning before the outbreak. Withdrawals the first few weeks were definitely difficult.” he explained as he poured you a glass. It was dark and steaming hot. “Coffee is a delicacy, dude. No one in the QZ had this where I was from. It would occasionally get passed out to the soldiers but man, that’s cool.” you said. Joel forgot—you were a post outbreak baby. You wouldn’t have known of the luxury of Starbucks or an espresso machine. “You may not like it, but it’s very unlikely.” he explained. Joel’s love for coffee was strong.

You took the first sip. It burned your tongue and tasted like dirt water. The smell was unmatchable, but the taste was just horrible. You froze, not wanting to disappoint Joel. 

Joel couldn't help it, he couldn't keep in his laughter. “Not a fan?” he asked, looking at you behind his cup as he took a sip. “It’s very…interesting?” you said, forcing yourself to take another sip. 

“Don’t torture yourself now,” Joel said, extending his hand for the cup. You gladly gave it back to him. “It was a nice thought,” you said dearly, giving him credit for his sweet gesture. “Ellie said the same thing when I made her try some. Must be a…”

He didn’t want to say it. His words came out faster than he could think. “What, a post outbreak baby thing?” you finished his sentence.

That was exactly what Joel was going for. “I mean, I didn’t mean it that way but…”

“It’s okay. Stop worrying Joel, you seem so nervous.” you flirted. “Aren't you?” Joel asked, feeling like that emotional wall was just broken down by your comment.

“Me? Oh, I’ve been a nervous wreck all day. Ellie didn’t give me a time, place, or any context other than that you were coming.” 

“Your kiddin’ me. That damn kid,” he sighed, reaching for the book on his side. “Speakin’ of Ellie.” he said, handing you the book.

“Constellations and Stars.” you said in awe.

“For kids,” you added, reading the small line under the title. “This some kind of cruel joke?” you asked Joel, opening the first page. “I promise it not,” he chuckled. “Found it in Ellie’s old storage bin she keeps in my basement. Thought it was useless, well, until now.”

“Do you see any?” you asked Joel. The two of you were laying flat on the blanket. Your head rested on his chest as his arm draped down protectively over you. Your legs were touching, feet and calves were intertwining. “The Big Dipper is always easy to find… if you look.”

You opened the book and flipped around a few pages until you found the page for the Big Dipper. “Like a kite,” you said. “Yeah, kind of like a kite.” 

After a few minutes of intense searching in the sky and enjoying your other’s companies, you found it. “Joel, I think I found it.”

“You did. I found it like five minutes ago.” he said shyly. You sighed in defeat. “I guess your just better than me.” you sighed sarcastically. “I guess I am.” Joel hummed.

“You know, back when the world wasn’t like this people would buy each other stars?” Joel asked. “That’s the stupidest thing I have ever heard.” you laughed. “With real money? Like the physical stuff?”

“Yup.” Joel confirmed. 

“I would buy you a star if I could.” you said suddenly. Joel suddenly felt a warmth grow inside of him, one he hadn't felt for many years. He had to spit out his thought, he just had to. Didn’t want to waste an opportunity. 

“I’d buy the whole sky of stars for you.” he said softly. You looked up at him, a hand resting on his chest. “Would you really?”

“In a heartbeat.”

The rest of the night was filled with laughter. You told Joel old stories about your QZ, he told you old stories about his life. Sharing what seemed like useless future plans now sounded promising with Joel. The two of you never wanted the night to end.

tag list(sorry if this appears twice tumblr is glitching currently) @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @mandoloriancookie @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @avengersfan25 @nyotamalfoy

You noticed the small wrinkles around Joel’s eyes when he smiled. When he smiled at least, you don't think you have ever seen this man so filled with so much joy before. You took in the detail of his smiling face intricately, not wanting to forget the feeling of the moment you were in. This man just said he would buy the whole sky of stars for you. You would do quite literally anything for him, but not like you wouldn’t have done it before. The feelings were very obviously now mutual. 

-

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @mandoloriancookie @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @avengersfan25 @nyotamalfoy

[wannaeatramyeon]

Fem!reader Isekai in Lookism ?

Anon, so sorry I'm answering this exactly 3 months later. You're my last request from May and I was soooo close to deleting it because I have had exactly zero ideas. Then I got partly inspired by @honeyhotteok fic here and now I'm running on less than 3hrs sleep in work and it's your fault. Oh yeah, and I've completely twisted the ask as well. It's not even close. So all that wait was for nothing 🙇🏻‍♀️

Adventures of YOUR part time job in the Lookismverse

G/N. You work the graveyard shift in a convenience store. You meet bizarre characters on different nights. Part 2

There's something wrong with people your age these days.

Everyone seems to be either in a gang or up to some shady shit. Seriously what is going on. Is this all a big joke that only you aren't in on?

Just the other day you swear you saw a group of guys in boiler suits punch through some walls across the street. Like what the fuck? What did the wall ever do to you? And then someone apparently called Tabasco starts chanting something about Burn Knuckles and oh my fucking god it's 11pm please shut up.

Oh course you never said that, you still have some sense of self preservation.

And how does anyone even have the time for all this. Between school and this part time job, you barely have enough hours to sleep.

You miss Daniel, the coworker who you haven't seen for a good year but used to gossip into the early morning with. He always seemed a bit nervous and fidgety when you voiced your concerns and observations, but you just assumed he was a nervous and fidgety kinda guy.

There would have been some fun stories to share. Instead now you work the graveyard shift on your own.

.

.

Case in point, the guy standing in front of you looks like one bad conversation away from a mental breakdown.

And really you're not in the habit of checking out customers but he cuts a striking figure. Every exposed inch of skin besides his face inked, and (you silently ask for his forgiveness for the objectification) the biggest chest you have ever seen. What even is this guy eating? What is this guy injecting? Lifting?

The question is almost out of your mouth but then you see the look in his eyes and slam your lips shut.

Nevermind. You ring his purchases through and tell him to have a good night.

.

.

You're restocking the shelves when you notice a guy with a scar across his lip and nose, dripping blood from god knows where all over your freshly mopped floor.

Which is alarming in itself but come on man. Look at the floors. You're making it so fucking gross.

He notices you watching him, gives you an apologetic look and says he'll take care of it.

He makes a quick call and in comes 26 guys, one after the other and they line up in front of him.

You know it's exactly 26 because you counted all 26. And you've also watched all 26 pairs of dirty shoes trample over your previously nice clean floor.

The blood drippy guy asks politely for the mop and bucket and you think this must be some sort of prank because why the hell is this even necessary. 26 guys to share your one solitary mop and bucket and to clean a goddamn floor that you managed in 10 minutes.

"Get out." He blinks at you, taken aback by your tone. "Or I'm calling the police."

.

.

"You can bring your pups in!" You call out to the emo teen lurking outside.

Health and safety be damned because look how fucking cute these dogs are!

He hesitates but then the rain grows heavier and all three rush in.

You miss the suspicious glance he gives you, too fixated on how adorable the dogs are. You don't even mind their wet fur or muddy paws because look at these little babies!

And huh, this guy must really love them too with his, you squint, God? Dog? hoodie on. D'aww that's so stinking sweet.

.

.

Damnit, you knew these two would be trouble the moment they stepped foot into your store.

The tall blonde just gives off a distinct creepy vibe and the shorter one has his entire eyebrows shaved off.

Shaved. Off.

You couldn't help but stare when you put their purchases through and noticed some regrowth and stubble. Is this a trend you missed out on? Either way you're glad because there's no way you're shaving off your own eyebrows.

They converse in Japanese, not even saying a word to you. No thanks or anything, which is fine you suppose. But then they pay you in fucking yen.

They're out the door by the time you see the cash and fuck. Your boss is going to go apeshit when he finds out.

.

.

"What do you think, sweetheart?"

A new blonde guy addresses you tonight and for crying out loud, you just want a quiet shift.

What do you think of his white suit? With the garish LV logos? That it's tacky as fuck. That anyone with any sort of taste would never ever wear that. You keep your actual thoughts to yourself and instead just say it's fine.

That does nothing to subdue the blonde. He does stop talking to you though, and just mutters bitterly under his breath. You catch the words blind and tasteless.

His partner smirks at your response.

And isn't that a whole other kettle of fish because it's currently 2am and you're indoors and who the hell wears sunglasses right now. You think he's a douche of the highest calibre.

The smirk is wiped from his face when he asks for cigarettes and you ask for ID. He doesn't have it on him.

"No can do. No ID, no sale."

He leans aggressively into your space, and reveals his eyes peering over his sunglasses.

My god, what is up with this duo? One with the tacky suit, and this one with the ugly black contact lenses.

You don't budge and the guy is dragged out by the blonde cackling.

Ugh. That laugh gives you a headache for the rest of your shift.

.

.

You really wish customers would stop involving you in their conversation.

This one, who looks exactly like how you would imagine a SoundCloud rapper that has their mother following them and no one else, asks you to listen to his music.

He insists that he's good as the blonde girl rolls her eyes.

You listen to about 10 seconds and make up your mind.

He's wrong. He's very wrong. You want to suggest he gets checked out at the doctor because clearly his ears aren't working properly.

Instead, you mention you like Duke Pyeon, he's more your taste. Has he heard of him? It's the wrong thing to say though because this guy looks angrier than you've ever seen anyone.

"Don't start Vin, I've seen you listening to his music." The girl scoffs.

'Vin' shouts in indignation and storms off with his friend trailing closely behind.

.

.

"Can I help?" You ask with your customer service voice and customer service smile.

He has been standing in front of the hair dyes for a good ten minutes as his friend looks increasingly bored and you can't blame him.

"No thanks, I'm just browsing," he responds and you tell him you'll be just over there if he needs anything.

You kill some time playing on your phone, look up, and both of them are still in the exact same spot.

The one with the H on his neck looks about ready to tear his hair out.

"Come on bro, just pick one!"

"No Warren, this is important. I need it to suit my new aesthetics."

You shrug and return back to your kitty kat restaurant game.

.

.

"Cool glasses," you tell the guy walking around the store and he looks affronted at first before realising you're being sincere and gives you a small smile instead.

You wonder if you can pull off orange tinted glasses too or whether you'd just look like an idiot. It's probably the latter you decide when you ring up his energy drinks.

"I'm a boxer," he offers, as if you're judging the amount of caffeine he's going to slam down.

"Ok?"

"I need it for my training."

"Sure."

You've seen weirder purchases and weirder combinations. The people coming in looking frantic and buying a single plunger or pack of toilet paper never fails to make you chuckle.

To be honest the amount he's buying is a bit nuts, and you wonder if he's going to drink it all in one go. You probably wouldn't sleep for a year if it was you.

"Enjoy your training," you say, heaving and handing over the bag of 19 cans.

.

.

A mute blonde gestures at you

You try to use some sign language, but he looks at you as if you're crazy. At least you think he does but you can't see his eyes.

Somehow you're able to decipher he's lost his dogs. Four. Golden retrievers. And he asks if you have seen them.

(Huh. Do you have telepathy? Do you have the gift?)

You tell him no and he sprints out.

You spend the rest of your shift trying to move things with your newly discovered psychic powers.

Spoiler: you have zero powers. Zilch.

.

.

You think you might be having a stroke.

Because on what planet did this K-pop idol think the disguise would work. Cap and mask on but tufts of pink hair poking out and dressed completely in white.

It's like he's asking for attention and for people to ooh and aah over who that could be.

As he leaves, you shout that you can't wait for his next album. He turns around in complete shock that you recognised him, as if you solved the world's hardest puzzle.

It's a good job that DG has such a pretty face because what an idiot.

.

.

You hear two voices mention the words Daniel Park and your ears perk up, wondering if it's about your old colleague.

Nah. You're just being silly. It's not an uncommon name at all and too much of a coincidence.

"I haven't seen Daniel in ages! Have you heard from him, Zoe?"

"No," you see her friend shake her head from the corner of your eye.

The brown haired girl tilts her head in thought, "I wonder how Zack is doing too. I haven't seen him in so long."

"Ohhh~ you miss him!"

"O-of course I do! He's a friend!" She blushes bright red and you chuckle to yourself.

'Friend', sure.

For the rest of the shift, you reminisce about how you used to tiptoe around your feelings with your boyfriend, Taehoon, too.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

hey y'all, i pretty much know that i'm the asshole big time- but i'm not sure what to do about it. i know i need to shift my perspective, especially because i'm not sure what to do going forward... or how to meaningfully apologize, so I think i need some outside judgement.

AITA for wanting to possibly return to speaking terms with someone i cheated with?

about 1.5 years ago one of my best friends (i'll call him R, we're all 20 now) confessed to me while I had a bf- R said he knew i wasn't into him but asked me to kiss him once. i felt really bad and didn't feel anything for him, so i said yes and we briefly kissed. I didn't think it was going to be a big deal until I told my boyfriend right afterwards and he got really upset in a way i now see i was really understandable. i've come to see the situation as cheating, but I think fundamentally we had a different view of it at first. my bf asked me to not be alone with him anymore or talk to him outside of groupchats (i was in a friend group of 3 people, R me and another guy). I tried really hard to follow through on this but in reality- i just didn't want to cut off one of my best friends- there were times I went against my boyfriend's wishes and slowly I let up and saw him/talked alone more. I would tell my boyfriend about it and he would be hurt by it and I would feel horrible, but I didn't put up a hard boundary. I hated myself for it, but I didn't feel like R was actually a problem, rather that the problem was my lack of respect for my bf. A month or two later, all of us moved away to different colleges. After two months of long distance and continuing to talk to R on the phone sometimes, my boyfriend left me citing that as one of the reasons.

I realized I should have valued my bf more and I stopped talking to R (basically ghosted him), but he contacted me on another platform and asked if I was okay and I realized that he was a true friend in a lot of ways. When we hung out on winter break at home, we were chilling and he kind of made a joke asking me to sleep with him. I said no very loudly because I'm not into him like that and I was still hung up on my bf. Meanwhile, after 2 months of no contact, me and my bf had started to talk again very tentatively (i had tried really hard to instigate it which, sometimes i feel bad about not leaving him in his peace- but I was having a really hard time accepting the breakup). I realized there was something I really needed to do to show him I was serious and I sent R a text saying we couldn't be friends anymore citing some lame reasons and the whole 'sleep together' thing.

After that, R didn't contact me and I felt like it was sad, but kind of a blessing because I got to focus on building trust between my bf and I and we eventually got back together.

Anyways, in the past year, the relationship has been steadily getting more comfortable and I hadn't had any contact with R or cheated since (I kind of believe once a cheater always a cheater, so this is an accomplishment. I really don't want to hurt my bf like that again.)

Okay here's the sucky part though (as if the rest wasn't already sucky of me) i was posting tiktoks for the first time this week and, little did i know, the algorithm was showing them to people who had my number. I got a call from an unknown number and a text that said "can we talk." I realized from the chat history it was R, whose number i deleted. I didn't answer, but a part of me really wanted to.

I missed him and I felt bad for leaving the friendship the way it was, I was also really curious as to why he was contacting me now?? But I knew I needed to tell my bf before I did anything. He said he would feel more comfortable if I didn't respond and I kind of agreed- but I said I was going to think about it and that I would tell him explicitly before I did anything.

Then the next day I got another call from a random number with my hometown area code- I thought there was a possibility it was R and decided to just act in the moment and let fate decide- I answered and it was him. It was kind of scary, but also exciting and didn't feel wrong in my body. He was weirdly casual just saying hi and that he saw my tiktoks and missed me, we ended up talking like old friends- like the time that had passed had healed some of that old stuff. He told me i was the best friend he ever had, and I remembered all kind of good things about our friendship. I also was able to apologize for ghosting him- if not super well. I knew while we were talking that my bf was not going to be comfortable with this and that I was unsure about what to do going forward and I think R kind of knew that was the case too, so it was also very awkward. when we hung up, it was clear I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to be his friend again.

When I told my bf as soon as i got off the phone, he was understandably very upset, even more so when I said I wasn't sure if I wanted to keep talking to R in the future. I feel really bad for hurting him, I was really mainly thinking about my own feelings. Now he and I are trying to resolve things, but I'm ashamed to say I don't know how I can make it better. I've told him that, even though it's not necessarily what I want, I'm willing to block R again, but I don't think it feels satisfying to either of us. my bf and I have been dating for 4 years now (with that break at 3 yrs) and he means so much to me, I don't want to bring us back to a place of distrust, but part of me feels like this was kind of pent up while I had R blocked. i've never ended a friendship with anyone before or blocked someone, so it all feels really weird to me, but I can imagine that my bf must feel really betrayed by my continued unsureness.

also R and my bf used to be friends for like 5 yrs- then R and I were close for 1 yr. my bf has said he felt left out by that and that he felt like R was a jerk to him while they were friends, so that's an element of it as well.

if you've read this far, thanks so much- advice? AITA? I've spent so much time feeling like scum for the way I handled the situation and while I have to love myself through it- I don't want to keep mishandling it- was answering the call all that bad, do I need to totally forget about talking to R?

What are these acronyms?

[fayes-fics]

Cravats

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Just kinky, married wall sex.... sorry rubbish summary

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, kink content, slightly rough vaginal sex, wall sex, light bondage, biting, slight breathplay, dirty talk, derogatory term, mention of shibari style bondage and edging. Very unofficial use of cravats.

Word Count: 2.1k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. Not what I should be writing (aka Portrait, my other WIPs). I should be ashamed of myself. Don't let me write at 4am. I'm going to hide now and maybe delete this later. I blame this squarely on @eleanor-bradstreet for her cravats post. Sorry <3

“Darling, I'm home early; I was thinking we c…” he screeches to a halt mid-sentence.

Damn.

You have been caught red-handed. You thought he would be out all afternoon promenading with his sister.

“What are you doing?” Benedict asks, puzzlement filling his tone.

You stand in your joint dressing room with one of his cravats looped around your neck, and you are, well, there’s no getting around it, inhaling his scent from it, even sucking on the material. Even you are not sure what compelled you to do such a thing other than you caught a whiff as you went by and, well… couldn’t resist a sniff, even a taste.

“I like the feel of the silk…” your stutter, the sound muffled, knowing you are blushing.

He moves closer. “And is there any reason you are sucking on it, my dear?” he rumbles, gently tugging the end from your mouth, eying the wet patch that blooms darker from your saliva.

“I like your taste,” you mutter quietly, head bowed in shame.

“What was that?” his tease velvety, “speak up, darling.”

You know he is flirting now. You look up to meet his heated gaze and repeat louder. “I like that they taste of you, husband.” 

His eyes dilate rapidly at your statement, and he takes a deep breath.

“I love how utterly feral you are for me,” he snarls. You are hauled against his solid frame, one of his arms banding tight around your waist, the other gathering both ends of the cravat looped around your throat a few times. “Do you know all the ways I could tease you with these?” he rumbles, his voice skittering hot over the skin of your neck.

“Tell me,” you exhale raggedly, thrilled about where this is going.

“I could tie you up in a rainbow, my darling,” his promise so intoxicating, “cover your skin in delicate, intricate silks bound in exotic knots that only I can untie.”

You breathe harder at the very idea.

“Do you know how many cravats I own, darling?”

You glance sideways at the rack but give up at attempting to count them when his warm lips start to suck insistently on the spot right below your ear.

“Fifty-two,” he answers between nips of your skin with his teeth, “one for every week of the year.”

“That’s a lot, husband…,” you rasp, his grip on the cravat at your neck starting to restrict your windpipe just a touch, causing a dangerous slick jolt of arousal down your spine.

He hums in agreement, suddenly releases the cravat, and wrenches your dress off your right shoulder—the room echoing with the sound of a seam ripping under his harsh grip. His mouth lands hot on the skin there, and you shudder as he bites down just a little. Talk about feral.

Wordlessly he rips the rest of your light cotton dress with one fist grab, and it falls to the floor around you. It wasn’t one of your favourites anyway; the animalistic urge it has brought out in him is far more enthralling than your affection for that dress. 

Then his hands are roughly plucking the lace of your stays, your whole body jerking with the motions. All the while, he is staring you down predatory, and you daren’t look away, just hypnotised by his stormy expression. When he is like this occasionally, you are utterly mindless for it, for him, in this crazed state. Your stays hit the floor behind you, and he picks up your now naked body, except his cravat, and propels you against the wall of your dressing room, knocking over an empty hatstand as he does so.

You gasp as it slams to the wood floor, and your back hits the wall. 

“Benedict,” you splutter in surprise at how forceful he is. He’s not hurting you, but he’s not treating you gently.

“Don’t suck on my clothing like a wanton little bitch in heat and not expect me to fuck you,” he intones.

You are shocked at how aroused you get at the derogatory phrase he uses—just a flood between your thighs. Your nipples pebbled hard as they rasp against the slightly scratchy wool of his sharply tailored cropped jacket as his hand reaches between your bodies and roughly unbuttons his britches.

You feel a wave of body heat over the apex of your thighs as he pulls out his cock and swipes its hot sticky tip over your clit. You moan at the sensation, already so pulsing and swollen from his handling of you. He loops your left leg high onto his forearm, a slight burn in your thigh from the stretch, and plunges into your pussy without warning. You cry out at the sheer size and speed of his invasion. Spearing you open.

“Yes, that’s it; scream my name,” he orders through clenched teeth; your most often mild-mannered sweet husband is almost nowhere to be found under this untamed wild man. And hell, if it isn’t everything you want.

He starts a punishing rhythm right away. Just fucking you. Hard. Your hands fly into his hair and fist the luscious mass there. He groans lewdly as you tug on the strands and rake your nails over his scalp, giving almost as good as you are getting. Hungry for him in a way you're not sure polite society would understand. 

You idly wonder how many wives of the Ton get stripped, bitten and fucked against a wall by their husbands on an overcast Tuesday afternoon. You suspect very few. You also suspect fewer would do what you do, pitch forward in his rough, punishing grip and bite his earlobe, gusting encouragements right into his ear, making him stumble in his movement and growl.

You want his handprints on your body, his teeth marks, signs that you are his. And you want to mark him too, leave scratches on his skin, bruises on his neck from sucking so hard. Just possessive, dark things that he brings out in you, things that you never imagined when you married him as a maid, all those months ago. 

You’ll never forget the first time he was like this. You removed your shawl as you sat down in a box to watch the opera, and he saw the mark he had left on the swell of your breast, entirely by accident, in his enthusiasm. He leans over, mumbles an apology, and asks you to conceal it. Instead, you turn your head and whisper you are proud to wear his mark and don’t care who sees it. The surprise and sheer want on his face you will never forget. He made it through half a song before grabbing your hand and pulling you into a stairwell, pushing aside your underwear and taking you right there, lying on the cold stone steps. It was the fastest you had ever orgasmed in your life. And now, you aid and abet him every time he lets out his wild side, wanting nothing more than the full force of his dizzying desire.

His hipbones will undoubtedly leave marks on your inner thighs as he pounds into your body, snapping deep and making you grunt softly with each push. You will probably carry a slight ache tomorrow, and you crave it. A reminder of how much passion you can share.

He pauses his movements, leans to the side and grabs two cravats. Looping them around your wrists a few times and tying a bow as he holds you against the wall up on your tiptoe, him buried deep inside you.

“What are you doing?” you are intrigued why he has stopped to tie pretty colourful knots on your person.

He doesn't answer, but the smirk on his face as he raises your hand high makes you tilt your head up against the wall and watch as he loops the bow he made in the material around a high coat hook there.

Oh.

He does the same with your other arm. Now you are hooked to the wall.

“Green,” you breathe, and his grin is boyish and so breathtakingly handsome.

That is the word he asks you to say when he checks your comfort level with something new. You don’t even wait for him to ask, desperate for him to continue, to start fucking you again. Instead, he curls his spine outwards and sinks down to teeth your nipples. You scream and clench hard on his cock. Which just makes him clamp down harder in surprise - a carnal loop of call and response that makes you burn so hot.

“Fuck me,” you whine, rapping the knuckles of your bound hands against the wall to emphasise your point.

He chuckles richly at your apparent impatience and finally speaks for the first time since he first entered you. 

“The more you make demands, darling wife, the less inclined I am to listen. I’ll just go slower and slower and slower and keep you simmering and trembling for me. Cry pretty tears for me in sheer frustration.”

“Please don't,” you appeal, writhing between him and the wall. He is still fully clothed, just his trousers around his knees, although much of his clothing is dishevelled now by your pawings—something so commanding about him being so fully dressed as you are naked and restrained.

“Then stop making demands,” he murmurs silkily, “or I’ll gag you too.”

Your eyes flash with excitement at the idea, and he chuckles again.

“Maybe not; you would enjoy that far too much, wouldn’t you? Dear god, I am the luckiest man alive,” he breathes and cups your jaw, moving to give you a surprisingly tender kiss.

“Please, Benedict,” you beseech softly over his lips.

“Okay, my darling,” he soothes, flicking a gentle thumb over your nipple and making you whine more.

He begins to move again, building a steady cadence that burns you white-hot. You moan for more, and he obliges, snapping harder into you, precisely what you need. Nudging the hilt of your channel, making you slump into him, putty in his punishing grip on your hipbones, slamming into your body now. You wish you could touch your clit as it pulses hard, pulled taunt by every plunge of his cock. Just needing the tiniest ounce of friction to tip over the edge you are skating.

“Does your little nub want my fingers?” he intuits duskily, and you nod vigorously and bite your lower lip, even as he keeps up those rousing thrusts.

You shout his name and a few expletives as his thumb worms its way between your bodies and unerringly finds where you need him most, pressing forcefully against the swell of your clit, hooking under your clitoral hood, right to the point of most sensation. He flicks his thumb up and down rapidly, and you are hurtled over the precipice, screaming and convulsing, your pussy squeezing so hard he has to push back against your rippling to stay inside you. A sweeping tide of sensation washing out from your core through your whole body, lungs almost burning with heaving breaths, blood pounding all over, your muscles tensing and releasing as you writhe hard, your arms aching from the slight stretch of being almost suspended by them.

Then you hear him roar and stutter in his movements, mouth hot and slack on your cheekbone as he curls inward and pumps his seed deep inside you, groaning and bodily twitching with the sheer force of it. 

After a few moments of panted breaths and little aftershocks wracking his frame, you are still somewhat floating as he unhooks your wrists and brings them back to your sides, rubbing your shoulders gently and kissing your temple sweetly as you recover.

“My love,” he breathes, back to the loving, attentive husband he always is, “are you quite well?”

“Yes, husband,” you reassure, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face into the frills of his shirt that poke out of his waistcoat. “I'm going to drape myself in nothing but your cravats if this is the treat I receive,” you opine drolly as he places your foot back on the floor, slipping out from your body with a muted moan followed by a huff of amusement at your words.

“I look forward to it,” he smiles, kissing you gently on the lips and cheeks, holding your face with loving reverence.

A few weeks later, when you lean over during a dull musical recital and inform him that you are wearing one of his cravats, his brow knits in puzzlement. Until you discreetly guide his hand up under your dress to feel the silk length wrapped around the very top of your thigh, like a thickly looped garter. You don't even reach the stone steps in the quiet stairwell this time. He takes you right against the door outside your box seats where any usher or patron could walk by and see; his hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your screams. Apparently, he has lost too many cravats to your gnashing teeth to gag you with the favourite one he wears that night. Pity.

I can't even bring myself to tag this... EDIT: OK I was convinced by some lovely peeps to tag it lol @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory

[writingquestionsanswered]

Hey, I love mystery stories and I really want to write one myself but I don't know where to start. A mystery story is just so complex, with all the details and red herrings and subplots and the truth being buried under lies and in little things that many may overlook, and you have to balance it so the answer is not too obvious but also not coming out of nowhere, and I worry about things being contrived. Should I start with writing the truth and basically write the story backwards? Or should I start somewhere else?

Plotting a Mystery

I'm not a mystery writer, but if I was going to write a mystery, I think my plotting would go something like this:

1 - Fleshing Out the Truth - What actually happened, "whodunnit" (if someone dunnit), and what events led to this happening? Imagine the event as it's playing out. What sort of evidence might be left behind as to what really happened? What evidence might be obvious upon closer investigation (looking into things like cell phone data, computer searches, hidden motives, etc.)

2 - Fleshing Out the Back Story - In addition to the events that led up to the event in question, what other back story details are important? What players and situations need to be fleshed out and understood in order to understand the truth of what happened?

3 - Fleshing Out the Clues - Knowing the truth of what happened, as well as the relevant players/back story, what kinds of clues might be evident at the scene of the incident? Would there be any forensic clues like fingerprints, blood, hair, or touch DNA? Would there be any circumstantial evidence, like say a matchbook with a particular bar name on it, a cigarette butt with a smudge of red lipstick, shoe prints or tire tracks? What about clues like surveillance videos, eye witnesses, and apparent motives? Which of these clues do you want to be found by any first responders? Do you want any to be found later by other characters who are investigating?

4 - Fleshing Out the "First 48" - What happened in the first 48 hours after the incident? Who discovers that something happened and how do they make this discovery? How do they respond? Do police and investigators get involved? What do they do? What clues do they find and what do they make of them? Who do they interview? What conclusions do they come to? Who are the possible suspects?

5 - Fleshing Out the Trail of Clues - If there are a lot of clues that stretch out across a period of time and/or space, I would probably plot that out on paper so I could see when/how each clue was left, then think about how and when my characters might come upon those clues. For example, if I know one clue was discarded on the interstate, I know that's a clue that won't be found until later. And, I'll have to think about what led my characters to look there, or how some random person stumbled upon it.

I hope that gives you some ideas about how to proceed, but if you're still stuck, I know there are some really great guides available that will walk you through plotting a mystery.

Happy writing! ETA: See the reblogs for tips and resources from @incobalt who is a mystery writer! :)

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[cinnoasch]

Is it ok if I request an Akira scenario where he's helping Y/N achieve her 'true persona'? How would he react when she achieves her persona? Or, different case scenario, how would Y/N react to Akira's "new form" when he gains HIS persona. dunno if this would work out, I've kinda forgot parts of the plot of Persona so I don't rlly remember where or when exactly this happened-

A/N: Hi anon! I'm so so sorry this took so long! I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 2427

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

Wish (Akira Kurusu x Fem!Reader)

You let out a sigh as you stare at your phone, occasionally typing some words and then deleting them a few seconds later. Tomorrow, the Phantom Thieves were going to steal Maruki’s treasure and fix reality once and for all. You were a bit nervous, but you had faith that things would turn out the way you hoped. The only thing that was bothering you however… was Akira. Besides the short conversations you had with the team during palace exploration, you hadn’t talked to him outside of that. You really wanted to, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to text or call him.

It was silly honestly. He was your boyfriend, yet here you were unable to talk to him. When you two first started dating, Akira told you that he would always be there for you, no matter what. Whether you needed to vent, talk or just wanted his company, he’d be there. Yet what about you? You hadn’t been there for him when he started the infiltration on Maruki’s palace. You had a hunch that things weren’t right from the start of the New Year, yet you couldn’t bring yourself out of that ‘perfect reality’. You wanted things to stay like that, even if he wasn’t by your side. Even if that was what you wanted the most.

Suddenly your phone rings, playing a ringtone you knew far too well. You glance at the screen seeing Akira's name and you answer hesitantly.

"Are you using our text messages as your grocery list again?" He asks.

“Wha- no, why would you ask that?”

“Well, you were taking a long time to type so I just figured you were typing your grocery list out.”

“I wasn’t typing out my grocery list for your information. Shopping’s the last thing on my mind right now.” You sigh. “Anyways, how’d you know I was typing? Were you waiting for me to text you?”

Akira chuckles, “I mean when your girlfriend suddenly cuts you off, a guy can’t help but wonder if he did something wrong.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Akira. It’s just… you know things have been hectic. We’ve been so busy lately with Maruki and everything else.”

“So busy that you can’t talk to me?”

You stay silent. He was right after all. Akira had made sure you all finished planning out a path to the treasure long before the deadline. You had plenty of time to talk to him, but you just felt guilty every time you thought about it.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” He sighs. “It’s just… I miss you;, you know? We’ve barely talked since this whole thing started. And I’m not blaming you, it’s my fault too but if there’s something wrong, I want you to tell me.” 

“I know, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry. I know it’s late, but I want to talk to you… can I come over?”

“No need, I’m already heading your way. Just wait for me, okay?”

“Okay.”

You hang up and put your phone down on the couch next to you. You were glad that he called but you also felt terrible. The last thing you wanted to do was make him worry, make him feel as if he did something wrong. You hated hearing him like that. Sure, you two had your fights sometimes but this was different. Not only did you betray his trust, but you broke your own promise to him.

Akira must have been closer than you expected because a few minutes later you hear a knock on the door. You go to open it, greeting him with a smile. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He replies a bit out of breath. “You weren’t waiting long, were you?”

“Please tell me you didn’t run here.”

“I didn’t. Definitely not.”

You roll your eyes as you pull him inside and close the door behind him. “Liar. Come on in, before you catch a cold.”

Akira chuckles, “I only did what you told me to. Besides, I was going to show up uninvited, but I’m glad I called you first.”

“So that’s why you said you were already headed over… Well, thank you for calling first.” You clear your throat. “Anyways, um, sit down. Would you like some tea or hot chocolate?”

He shakes his head, “No thanks.” Then he takes a seat on the couch, patting the empty space next to him. “Come here. You don’t have to be so nervous.”

“I’m not nervous…” you mumble as you sit down next to him. “Okay maybe a little, but it’s just because we haven’t talked like this in a while. Like… a serious conversation like this.”

“Would you believe me if I told you I was nervous too?”

“No. You’re always so calm and collected. If you are, I can’t tell.”

“Then here,” Akira says, taking your hand and placing it over his heart. Even through his winter coat, you could feel his heart beating at a quick, steady pace. You glance up, meeting his gaze as he smiles softly. “Now, do you believe me?”

You nod, unable to tear your eyes away from him. Just how lucky were you to have someone like him in your life? Someone that easily washed away the doubts in your mind with a single action. Someone that was so kind to you even after how you treated him. With a simple action and a smile that melted your heart, Akira washed your guilt away. It’s hard to believe that your ‘perfect reality’ didn’t have him by your side. 

“If you keep staring at me like that, we might not get any talking done at all.”

Drawn out of your thoughts, you quickly pull your hand away from Akira’s chest. “S-sorry, I was just thinking…” 

“It’s okay. Still nervous?”

You shake your head. “Nope, nerves are all gone. Thank you.” With a deep breath, you start. “Well, first of all, I wanted to apologize for how I’ve been these past few weeks. I didn’t mean to cut you off like that, and my intention wasn’t to make you think you did something wrong. It’s just… I felt guilty.”

“Guilty?”

“Mhm… the truth is, I knew from the beginning that this reality was off. I’m not sure how I knew, it was just a hunch really. But, instead of telling you, I pretended to not know. It’s just seeing everyone so happy… it wouldn’t feel right taking that away. Yet in the end, I guess we all made up our minds anyway…” You look down at your hands, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “The main thing is that I should’ve been there when you first infiltrated Maruki’s palace. And yet I wasn’t. Despite you always being there for me, I couldn’t even be there for you…”

“So you knew…”

You nod, feeling Akira’s gaze. You knew that if you looked at him, you might just end up crying. He didn’t sound mad, if anything it was more surprise and slight disappointment. To be honest, you weren’t sure why you made that choice of not telling him. Maybe it was just how you were, you always had a habit of hiding things from people, even if you didn’t mean to.

To your surprise he ruffles your hair, and you look up, seeing him smile. “I’m not upset. So don’t look so sad. I’m a bit hurt that you didn’t tell me, but it sounds like you had your reasons, right?”

“...yeah. I didn’t want to see our friends have what they wanted the most taken away from them.”

“And what did you want? You probably weren’t affected by Maruki’s reality because you didn’t have it.”

“I…” You hesitate. Would it be selfish of you to say what you wanted? He was already right here next to you. Just like you wanted originally. However, voicing your thoughts aloud was different. If you told him, what would he think? 

“There’s that look again.” Akira says with a small chuckle as his gaze turns towards the ground. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me now. Or ever, if you don’t really want to. But just know that whatever it was, it wasn’t selfish of you to think that way… I mean, all of us, me included, we have our selfish ways, don’t we? That’s why this ‘perfect reality’ came about anyways.”

It wasn't often, but very rarely you saw this type of expression on Akira. It was distant, but there was also a feeling of longing. As if he was trying to come to terms with something. 

“...perfect reality…” You mumble quietly. Then your eyes widen in realization. 

Tonight was the last day for Maruki to contact Akira. You felt stupid for forgetting something so important. Then you look at Akira. Did he have that same look throughout all of this? That look of loneliness? That look easily told you who else was on his mind.

"Maruki contacted you… right? To be honest it slipped my mind… even though it was something so important."

Akira nods. "Yeah, he contacted me."

"And Akechi was there too?"

He looks at you surprised. "How did you-"

"The look on your face. The last time I saw you with that expression was when he died. You two were really close, huh?"

“...yeah.” Akira sighs. “Somehow, Maruki heard of what happened to him and in order to give us another chance at being friends, this reality came to life.” Akira runs his hands through his hair. “If we don’t go through with taking back our reality… Akechi will be alive, and if we don’t… well the answer is obvious.”

You stay silent, not sure of what to say. What could you say to this? 

“It’s a lot to take in, right? You’d think it’d be a simple decision after everything. But when someone’s life is being used like that…like a bargaining chip… it just feels wrong.” Akira shakes his head slightly and glances at you. “What would you do if you were me?”

There was that expression again. How were you supposed to answer him when such a sorrowful expression painted his face?

“I…” You begin hesitantly, trying to find the words to say. “I’d go through with what we started. Of course, using someone’s life like that is just wrong, but I think it’d be best if we went through with it. I think Akechi wouldn’t be able to stand knowing that we turned our backs on what we originally planned to do. If we did that… it’d just seem like his sacrifice in Shido’s palace was for nothing… at least that’s how I feel.”

Akira chuckles, “Sounds about right.” He sits up, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I thought the exact same thing.”

“You already gave Maruki your answer then… So why ask for my opinion?”

He hums in thought, a smile appearing on his face. “Because your opinion is important to me. Why do you think I was in such a rush to get here, to talk to you? During this whole thing, I’ve heard everyone’s opinions on what they thought we should do about this reality. Yet the one person whose opinion I wanted to hear the most, the person whose opinion is the most important to me, never contacted me to talk.” Akira turns to you, a soft expression on his face. “You know I’ll always be here for you right? No matter what. So don’t keep your feelings or thoughts locked inside.”

You blink a couple of times, feeling tears start to prick at your eyes again. You chuckle slightly as you look away from him. “You sure do have a way with words. Makes sense that you’re our leader…” With a sigh you face him with a smile. “I’ve made up my mind. No more keeping to myself. It wouldn't be fair to you, making you worry. I want to be someone you can rely on too.”

You couldn’t explain it but somehow, you felt different after you told Akira that. As if your soul felt stronger somehow, as if a voice in your head told you that you had changed. You weren’t exactly sure what this feeling was, but you knew that you wanted to give back to Akira after all he’s done for you.

You hear him chuckle, about to say something but you place a finger on his lips. “Nope, I know what you’re gonna say. That you already rely on me for a lot, but let me have this okay? I want to trust in this feeling that I have, that I can be stronger for you and the team. If I can’t truly confide in you, then who am I to even wish for you?”

“You… So that was your wish?”

“I-” Your face reddens in embarrassment as you take your hand away from his face and avert your gaze. You didn’t even realize what you had said.

“Oh, what happened to ‘no more keeping to myself’?” Akira teases. “C’mon, be honest now.”

Your face reddens even more as you look down at your hands, mumbling slightly. “I wished for you.”

“One more time? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

“I wished for you! There, happy?” You shout as you look at Akira. He had the widest smirk on his face. You grab the pillow next to you and smother him with it. “Wipe that grin off your face…”

“What? A guy can’t be happy that his girlfriend wished for him? You don’t have to be so embarrassed. Y’know it’s cute that you’d wish for something you already have.”

“Just please… shut up.”

He laughs and suddenly you feel his hands on yours as he lowers the pillow so he can look at you. “But seriously, I’m really happy you told me, even though you said it without realizing. You said it with such conviction, I wasn’t sure if I heard you correctly. You feel… stronger.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Mm, I think I can prove otherwise.”

You laugh as you look up, meeting his eyes again. “Yeah? And how can you-”

In one swift motion, Akira closes the gap between the two of you, his lips pressing onto yours. It was quick and sweet; you didn’t even have the time to react with how fast it happened.

As he leans his forehead against yours, you can hear him whisper, a bit of playfulness laced in his voice. “Believe me now?”

[vioartemis]

In another life (Tara's version)

(Tara Carpenter x fem! reader)

Summary: You're Tara's childhood best friend, and years after leaving Woodsboro, you meet her again in New York, making unexpecting feeling emerge. Tara || Sam Warnings: none a/n: I made another one shot, kinda complementary of this one, with Sam :)) I put the link up there if you're interested (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

She had known you for as far as she could remember.

You were her neighbor, back in the days. That gave you the opportunity to see each other a lot, to play together.

That also gave your parents the opportunity to hire Sam as your babysitter, which meant you could see Tara more because you rarely saw one without the other.

You both enjoyed your time together, to the point Tara even had a crush on you during the last years you saw each other.

Sadly she never got to tell you about it, as you left with your parents the same year Sam ran away.

You said you would try to stay in touch, but it never really happened.

And now, almost 6 years later, you were about to meet again.

Tara and the rest of her friends just left a party , right after Sam barged in and tazzed some dude in the balls. The Carpenter sisters were fighting in the middle of the road, when a random girl threw her soda at Sam.

Half of the group tried to get the girl while the other held them back, trying not to cause too much drama. They didn't see it, but one of the girls was filming the whole thing.

Luckily for everyone, you did see it. You were actually going to that party, and saw the whole scene from afar. You didn't like that kind of attitude at all.

So when the girls walked passed you, you grabbed the phone of the one who was filming, and deleted the video before she could post it.

They all gave you horrified looks, like you did the most horrendous thing.

"That's called karma" you mumbled to yourself while you walked away, in the direction of their victim

She was trying to dry her jumper, when you approached her.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry, people are so dumb sometimes..." you said as she lifted her head up to look at you

As soon as she did, you recognized her. She hadn't changed since the last time you saw her. Well of course she had changed a bit, but not enough so you don't recognize her.

"Sam..?"

Considering the look she gave you, she clearly didn't recognize you.

"Y/n?"

You almost immediately turned around at the sound of another familiar voice, but didn't have the time to see anything before she literally jumped in your arms, hugging you tightly.

After a moment, Tara let go of you.

"I didn't think I would ever see you again..." she said, looking you up and down to check if you were real, a smile on her face

"Me neither" you chuckled "What are you doing here in New York?"

While Tara answered your question, Sam looked at you with wide eyes. You had changed so much since she last saw you... You were really pretty. Like... really really pretty.

She never thought she would think about that one day but... here she was, wondering if she should ask for your number. She wanted to. really bad.

But wouldn't it be weird? It had been years since you talked... What would you think if she did ask for your number? She didn't want to make things awkward between the two of you. Really not. But maybe you'd want to talk to her too? Maybe she should just-

"Can I ask for your number?"

Tara's voice made Sam snap out of her thoughts.

"Oh, yeah, of course! I was about to ask for yours too"

Sam watched you exchange numbers with Tara, slightly mad at herself for hesitating so long. Now it would just be weird if I asked for her number too, she thought, I’ll ask Tara later.

<><><><> ♡ <><><><>

The weeks after you gave Tara your number, you both caught up onto each other’s life. Tara told you about what happened in Woodsboro the year before, and you wish you didn’t move out of there. Even if it was not your fault, you felt bad for not being there when she needed it.

If you were there you could’ve helped her, save her. You would’ve probably even spent the night at her house. God, you could’ve helped her against Ghostface!

That explained why they moved to New York.

The day you met again, Tara only told you they needed fresh air without more details. But now you understood. And you were willing to give her the fresh air she needed.

You had switched to lighter subjects, such as college and free time. That’s how you learnt you had some classes in common -which would later give you excuses to spend more time with her.

You both used said excuses, asking the other to help you with homework, or share notes for a class… Everything that could give you the opportunity to be together more.

You also saw each other at the park, or at the café where Sam worked, or literally everywhere you could go. You both were enjoying that, contrary to Sam, who struggled seeing you.

She could almost only see you when you were with Tara at the café, or when you were doing homework together at their apartment. She was dying to see you more. The majority of your conversations were by texts, but it was never as good as face to face ones…

You didn’t seem to notice though, as you were realizing you might have feelings for Tara, and couldn’t just get her out of your head. You never realized it before, but now that you were thinking about it, even back then you had a crush on her.

This day, Tara invited you over to spend time together, where you could have more privacy than outside. You were happy about it, especially since you had something to ask her.

After a moment spent in her room playing board games and chatting, you started hesitantly.

"Hey Tara... um... You know I'm part of the photography club, right? Well um... I was wondering if you... if you'd agree to be my model..."

You were a bit embarrassed to ask, but you were convinced she would make a good model.

Tara was also embarrassed, but at the same time she was flattered you thought of her to be your model. She had always been a bit shy, but she got a burst of confidence from your ask and agreed to model for you.

After half an hour of switching poses and taking pictures, you both sat on her bed so you could show her the pictures you just took. You enjoyed taking pictures of her, she was just so pretty... you wanted to capture that.

And she seemed to like it too, considering all the compliments she gave you at the sight of the pictures.

"I think this one is my favorite" she said, pointing at one of the pictures

"Yeah? I really-" you started as you turned your head to face her, but cut yourself off when you noticed how close you were to each other at that moment.

You could feel her breath on your face.

You couldn't help but admire her beauty. You found everything in her perfect. Her eyes, her freckles, her smile, her dimples... everything.

In spite of yourself, you couldn't help but look at her lips. The urge to kiss her had grown more and more inside of you for the past months, and you just wanted to give in.

In a burst of courage, you leaned in a bit, just enough to let her know your intentions, but not enough to touch her lips yet, to give her the occasion to back off if she wanted to.

She didn't. Instead, she leaned in as well, closing the gap between you, pressing her lips to yours in a soft kiss. You couldn’t help but smile at the kiss, putting a hand on her cheek so you could kiss back.

Quickly, you got caught up in the kiss, which soon turned into a make out session.

You both had waited so long to do that, ever since you were children -even if at that moment it was just a little crush. Everything was just so perfect right now… just like you had imagined.

Sadly, this moment was interrupted by the door opening suddenly.

“Girls, what do you want for din-”

Sam stopped the moment she saw what was happening; even if her intervention had caused you to pull away from each other, your reddish lips and cheeks, and the non existent distance between Tara and you let little to the imagination.

The three of you were embarrassed -for different reasons, and Sam felt that unpleasant feeling again that she refused to call jealousy. She quickly closed the door again, going back to the living room, trying to forget what she saw and focus back on making dinner.

She knew that would happen one day. It was obvious it would happen. Tara had always loved you, and Sam had always known it. She had also suspected you too had a crush on Tara, back when you were children. And apparently, she was right.

Tara was as embarrassed as you were, cheeks more and more red.

“I um… I’m sorry, I should’ve locked the door…” she whispered, not daring looking at you

Tara and you started dating after this day, and you were both happier than ever. Kisses, cuddles… everything was magical.

Tara was the sweetest, most adorable girlfriend you could’ve wished for. And she thought the same of you.

She often invited you to stay at hers and Sam’s apartment for dinner, and sometimes you even slept there. Which you love, by the way; having Tara in your arms just felt so nice you never had trouble falling asleep.

Out of your ‘love bubble’, Sam was trying her best not to say or do anything that could be misinterpreted. She was really trying to be happy for Tara and you, but sometimes it was just too much.

Like when at the dinner table you couldn’t stop giving each other heart eyes, or say every possible cheesy thing. You were even too in love to see her roll her eyes or hear her scoff.

But at the end of the day, she knew she couldn’t do anything about it. Maybe, in another life, we’ll be together… she thought.

[Sam's version]

[copperbadge]

What do you mean by digital cleaning?

It's something I've been working on more this year because I had a bit more travel than usual so couldn't do actual home cleaning, but I always take a couple of days in the Month Of Cleaning where I'm focused on my digital life. It's good to make your physical home a comfortable place for yourself, but it's also good to recognize that we have "digital" homes that need attention. And often this is at least less physically demanding, so it's good to keep it in your back pocket for days when you're mentally okay but physically too tired or sore to do more of that kind of work.

In the shortest possible terms, digital cleaning is just making sure that your phone, computer, socials, and other digital "presences" are organized in a way that you find helpful, and that you take a moment to either answer those messages you've been putting off or give yourself amnesty on doing so.

This tends to make a lot of people extremely anxious in a way ordinary physical space cleaning doesn't, so I'm going to put the rest of it behind a cut...

So when I say digital cleaning, I refer to stuff like going through my likes on Tumblr and clearing them out, going through my drafts and turning them into queued posts, answering my asks. I spend time in my email inboxes, either responding to messages or removing them. I am not an "inbox zero" kind of guy, but I like to keep the read-but-not-answered messages to a minimum, and towards the end of the year that usually means a clear-out and amnesty. I clean my Google Drive -- delete old files I uploaded for others, move documents I'm no longer using into an archive, move documents I want to work on into a central work folder. I go through my catch-all folder on my hard drive and organize it; I sort through the year's photos and organize those, partly to archive them and partly because I make a scrapbook from them each year. I don't usually have a ton of tabs open but often have more than I'd like, so I go through them all and either read, bookmark, or get rid of them.

I look in my phone's file tree to make sure I delete files I don't need (mostly menu downloads, Restaurants Stop Making Your Menus PDFs Challenge 2K24) and I sometimes go through each app on my phone, make sure I still use it, and make sure it's set how I want it. If this sounds like a nightmare, bear in mind that I very rarely put apps on my phone to start with -- I think my mother has more apps open at any given time than I have apps on my phone ever.

Everywhere I clean, I look for files named things like "notes" or "deal with" or "random" and move them all into one place so that whatever is in them, I can sort through it and make sure it goes somewhere permanent. Logins go in the login/password spreadsheet I keep, addresses go into my contacts, story notes go into a "fiction scraps" file, random thoughts either get moved into a journal file or put into drafts to become Tumblr posts, etc.

If this sounds like I might have some kind of compulsion disorder, I get that; when I explain my digital hygiene systems a lot of people look at me like I'm spouting a mad but harmless conspiracy theory. But it's something I used to have to do periodically even before I created National Clean Your Home Month, because otherwise I could never find anything, and everything was just...harder. As I once told a boss who admired my organizational skills, "It was this or endless chaos."

Putting addresses into my contacts list means I always know that the addresses I have for my friends are up to date. Putting logins into a spreadsheet means that five minutes spent now will not result in five weeks of procrastination later because I can't find the login and can't do anything else until I do that. Going through my email and archiving old conversations means not only can I find them easily when needed, I don't have to look at them the rest of the time. Sometimes I even go through my various wish lists and remove old/purchased items, or clear out all my "save for later" carts.

There's no doubt this is stressful, but like every part of NaClYoHo, it's broken down into smaller tasks; I don't have to look at my computer and organize everything on it all in one day. I can answer a few asks, then sort photos (something I find very soothing up until the moment I Don't), then read and delete some emails, then I'm done for the day. I can spread "answer or file all your work emails" out over a couple of days. I can maybe empty out my Likes but just turn the ones I actually want to reblog into drafts for now and deal with them later in the "drafts" phase of cleaning. And if I don't manage to empty out my inboxes, at least they're emptier than they were.

I'm struggling this morning with having put a bunch of physical cleaning on the to-do list but not feeling physically up for it, so I did what I felt capable of doing (measuring cabinets for new shelf liners mainly) and later today I might sit down and start building this year's photobook. Or not -- I have to code Radio Free Monday, sort out a prescription and possibly go pick it up, plus a very full day of work and a couple of afternoon appointments I can't shirk, so today may simply be a "get through the day" kind of day. That's okay too; some days the spirit is willing but the schedule is full.

[weekly-eons]

Got a lot of ask and such, so I will make this lil info post to answer some questions you may or may not have:

Yes, I am taking pride eon request! (I take requests the whole year!) and I am taking them the whole month, and I will do my best to do as many as I can! My goal is 1 pride request per day, I was just catching up for the last couple of days ^^

And ofc you may ask for the same eon and flag combo, I will just make a different one! I do my best to make a fun and interesting design 🫡 At the end of the month, they will all be put for sale on my kofi! Thinking of a price of €25, but that may change, so keep that in mind.

If I don't get to your ask, I will try to do it either later or next year. I don't delete asks, so my ask box is very full, so I might miss some ^^;;

Glad you all like my silly designs! Happy Pride!

[victoria-daydreams]

The Winner Takes It All || Challengers

Part III: The First Crack

AN: Guys, I'm not going to lie this is the most chaotic posting schedule known to man and I'm so sorry. Parts of this chapter got deleted not once, but TWICE! I had to walk away from this story before I did something I would regret, but I'm back again. I know for sure the engagement for this story will have decreased significantly, but I don't care. I've put too much time and brain power into this, so I'm seeing it through until the end, there's probably only three or four parts left anyways. A lot of song references sprinkled throughout and I took some minor inspiration from certain movies, I wonder if you’ll be able to guess it.

Trigger warnings: emotional cheating (Art and Gianna truly embodying the song B.A.S. in this one), slight manipulation

Word Count: 7.0k

Taglist: @seriousaliysa @hopeless-y @malscorner @miximora @urfavesim @mmmunson @jackierose902109 @youngestxhearts @blkdivinefeminine @kalikailz @lottiematthewsceo @lonnie2390147 @begoniaespresso @everydayimagineer @pnkstali @softimgyu @amethystwonders11 @hazbinh0e @ysuftmikey @summerssover @hummusxx @callumturnerwife23 @whitewashedghanian @brunettegirl @igotmajordaddyissues @soldesole

Part IV: Cocky Af

SIX YEARS LATER - US OPEN, AUGUST 2012

With a powerful forehand, Gianna hit the return back over the net, her muscles rippling with the effort. The neon green ball whizzed across the other side and straight down the court, just out of her opponent's reach. Immediately, Gianna felt her knees buckle and she fell back onto the court, letting out a cry. The thunderous applause and screams are instant, vibrating the hard court beneath her. She had did it, Gianna had did it. She was now the US Open Women's Champion.

Her hands covered her face, tears pricking in her eyes as Gianna's shoulders shook with soft sobs. All the sacrifices she made, every argument she had with her dad, the blood, sweat, and tears she shed had culminated to this very moment. Her crowning achievement, Gianna Langdon was a Grand Slam winner. The media had reported on her every move in the tournament, debating if she possessed the mental toughness to advance in the Open after having a rough start in her first match. Today, she proved her doubters and her most vocal critics wrong.

Composing herself a little, she dragged her hands down her face and sat up from the ground. Gianna rose to her feet and jogged her way over to Irina who was at the net patiently waiting there. Her head hung dejectedly, but she offered her hand to Gianna's shake which she accepted. The handshake was brief and Gianna released her hand to turn her attention to the umpire to thank them before facing the roaring crowd who maintained their rapturous applause.

With a grin that could rival the sun, Gianna began clapping herself before bowing several times to thank her fans and supporters. Staring out into the crowd, her eyes found her family's, their cheers were the only ones that truly mattered to her. Her brother and sisters were going wild in the stands, jumping up and down before embracing each other. Beside them, her mom and dad were openly crying and clapping harder than everyone else. Their eyes were filled with so much pride and joy that it almost made her want to break down sobbing again.

"What a journey this has been for you Gianna!" the interviewer began. "Tell me, what is going through your head right now?" she asked, before moving the mic over toward Gianna.

"Oh man," Gianna breathed out, still winded from the strenuous match only moments before. "There's not enough words in the dictionary to describe how I'm feeling right now!" she answered, a brilliant smile on her face. "This means the absolute world to me! I was pinching myself after I fell out onto the ground to make sure that this was actually happening," she continued, drawing out some laughter from the crowd.

"This is your first major title win, Gianna. How does it feel to finally hear those words spoken aloud?"

"It's incredible, truly," she replied, nodding her head. "I've been training so hard for this very moment since the day that my daddy put a tennis racket in my hand. And today, I'm finally bearing the fruits of my labor," she went on, resting her hands on her hips. "This title win is as much a dream come true not only for me, but for my dad as well, Maurice Langdon," she informed, and the Jumbotron camera quickly cut to her father in the stands. "Without his tutelage and guidance, I would not be where I am right now. When I left Stanford, I told my dad five words. 'Let's go make some magic'. I think I can safely say, we accomplished that here today," she finished, causing the crowd to aw at her outpouring of love for her father.

Smiling, her dad blew multiple kisses in her direction before placing his hand over his chest, genuinely touched by her praise.

"I did two things today that I previously thought impossible. I won a major title!" Gianna exclaimed excitedly, to which the crowd roared in cheers. "But more importantly, I made the Maurice Langdon shed tears for the first time ever!" she joked, a ripple of laughter echoed from the crowd as they were all probably familiar of her father's renowned stoic nature.

Gianna's on court interview lasted for a few more minutes before finally, it was time for the trophy presentation. She would forever be immortalized in tennis history with a picture of her proudly holding the US Open above her head. With her press conference wrapped up, the toll of the day was beginning to wear on her. Gianna was exhausted. Every bone, every muscle, every part of her.

Walking alone in an empty hallway within the Arthur Ashe Arena, the sound of Gianna's phone chiming echoed in the air. A smile lit up on face at the text she received from a name with snail emojis beside it.

"Can't wait to see you tonight, champ" with a winky face at the end of the message.

Matthias Schnell (snail as she liked to tease him since the words were similar in pronunciation) was a rising German tennis superstar much like herself. The two met at Wimbledon where they were both making eyes at each other during the tournament, but after she won against him and his partner in the mixed doubles semifinal match, Matthias congratulated her and asked her for number, the rest was history. They weren't official yet, but they were well on their way.

"Gianna!" a familiar voice called.

In a blink of the eye, her smile dropped from her face.

"I know that's not who I think it is," she thought.

Gianna clicked her phone back into sleep mode and quickened her pace, ignoring the repeated calls of her name. Until, she felt fingers lightly wrap around her wrist, an action which made her furiously whip around and rip her arm from the grasp of a strawberry blond haired man.

"Don't fucking touch me!" Gianna hissed.

"Gia—" Art began.

"No! You don't get to call me that!" she snapped, stabbing her finger in his direction. "You lost that privilege a long time ago!" she snarled.

"Please, Gianna," he pleaded, taking a step closer to her. "You ducked me in Atlanta," he reminded, only causing Gianna's nostrils to flare.

With a Nike baseball cap tucked low over her brow, Gianna made her way down the hall of the hotel. It was the night before the Atlanta Open, a tournament she usually didn’t pay any attention to, but this year she was here to support an old friend. Max Sullivan, a name she couldn't believe she was saying. After the Juniors Championship, they didn't part on the friendliest of terms and it was all Gianna's fault. She told Max to his face she thought he was a mediocre player and to add insult to injury, she also said she should take his trophy since she's the one who did all the work on the court. It was a mixture of immaturity, cockiness, and a kernel of truth.

Nonetheless, it would seem her words lit a fire under Max's ass, because from college and now as a professional tennis player, his growth had been tremendous. So, the only lesson Gianna took from that was, bullying works. Depending on his performance, she was considering them to be doubles partners again.

Placing her hand on the door handle to the stairwell, Gianna froze. It felt like someone was watching her. Without hesitation she turned her head in the direction of the hotel lobby, her heart all but stopped as her next breath caught in throat. Gianna's vision became similar to the dolly zoom effect at the sight of Art. The two of them were no longer standing on opposite ends of the hallway. By the second, it seemed like the distance between them was rapidly shrinking.

"Gia?"

He barely raised his voice, but it was just loud enough for her to hear as a soft frown creased his brow. Gianna didn't respond, instead choosing to avert her eyes to back to the door. Her breath beginning to quicken while her heart thumped wildly in her chest, the only thing keeping her on her feet was the death grip her fingers had around the door handle. Out of the corner of Gianna's eye, she could see Art slowly approaching towards her. Panic seized her at the thought of them being within arms reach of each other. They haven't spoken to one another in five years, Art's last attempt was rewarded with a swift slap across his cheek after he cornered her in their sophomore year, pleading for her to speak to him again.

"Gia, please, I'm begging you. I don't know how much longer I can take of this," Art pressed, desperation rife in his voice. "I miss you," he added, his voice cracking as he bent down slightly to try and meet her stare.

Gianna remained silent, keeping her gaze fixated on the cement with her arms folded tightly against her chest . A heavy, lingering silence engulfed them when Gianna finally flicked her eyes up to Art's, startling him. She did not mask her rage, Gianna's eyes burned with hatred which caused Art to flinch. Suddenly, her hand flew forward striking Art's cheek, the force of the blow causing his head to whip to the side. Then, she turned on her heel and stormed away.

Art was less than ten feet away from her when Gianna forcefully pulled the open, rushing clumsily up the stairs and almost twisting her ankle in the process.

"Gia wait!"

Art and Gianna had a silent, intense stare off for several moments, before Art cautiously took a step closer towards her with arms raised.

"Gianna, please. I just wanted to tell you congratulations on your first grand slam win," Art explained softly, with a weak smile.

"I don't want it, least of all from you," she spat, looking him up and down with a sneer.

"Will you at least hear me out?" he asked, frustration creeping in his voice. "I only want to talk," he stated.

A deep, scornful laugh bubbled out of Gianna as she slowly closed the gap between them.

"And what the fuck, would we have to talk about Arthur?" she asked icily, the harshness of her tone making Art recoil. "You know I want? I want you to be a good boy and run along," she continued, moving in for the final blow. "A pet should never stray too far from its master, so how about you go fetch the lost dreams of her career and leave me the hell alone!"

With every venomous word Gianna hurled at him, Art withered from the verbal daggers she threw at him until he was left in a state similar to which a dog would’ve been after it had been scolded by its owner. How fitting. If he'd had a tail, he would have tucked it between his legs.

Gianna's lip curled in disgust, "Fucking pathetic," she muttered, stalking away from him and purposefully letting her shoulder bump Art's arm as she left.

~~~x~~~

FIVE YEARS EARLIER — STANFORD UNIVERSITY, 2007

"40-15! Match point!" the chair umpire announced.

Gianna punched her fist in the air as the crowd erupted into applause and loud cheers, the yelling of her name mixed within them. It was only an exhibition match, but the Stanford bleachers were packed full as if it was the Junior's US Open all over again. It was the highly anticipated potential match up that never came to fruition at the tournament. Today, however, spectators could finally behold the athletic spectacle of two titans facing off against each other. More importantly, they wanted to see if Gianna had it in her, to pull off the upset of the day.

Glancing at her opponent on the other side of the net, Gianna watched Tashi shake her head in frustration, a deep scowl marring her pretty features as she picked at the strings of her racket. Behind Tashi, the ball boy bounced a ball to her and smoothly caught the ball with her racket.

Gianna crouched down, a smirk on her lips as she let the rubbery grip of her racket roll back and forth against her palms, rocking from side to side.

"One more point," she thought. "And I will have beaten Tashi two times in a row this week,"

The neon ball bounces softly off the ground and Gianna's grip tightened around the handle, readying herself. The moment Tashi released the ball high in the air and jumped to hit it, Gianna knew it was going to be excellent serve from her friend. Playing against Tashi was a tasking feat in itself, but going against her when she was absolutely livid and frustrated? Most competitors might as well be signing their own death certificates, Gianna however, had Tashi right where she wanted. Off-kilter and playing sloppy.

Whizzing over the net, the ball came flying at Gianna like a heat seeking missile and for a split second she wondered if Tashi had envisioned her face on the ball as she returned the serve. The next hit came in the form of a forehand slice and Gianna sent the ball back across the court with a strong one handed, backhand return. Tashi sprinted over to the ball, but fell a stride short as the ball bounce off the ground with a force that made dirt kick up.

"Game, set and match, Gianna Langdon," the chair umpire announced in a loud voice. "6-3, 6-3".

The crowd erupted in cheers as Gianna herself threw her arms in the air in victory. Jogging to the net, a grumpy Tashi was already waiting for her with her hand extended out. As usual, she still really hadn't gotten around the concept of losing to Gianna and it showed.

"Good game," she muttered.

Gianna, on the other hand, was clearly starting to get the hang of beating Tashi, and boy did she enjoy it.

"I know," Gianna acknowledged, with a smirk.

Instantly, Tashi's face darkened and she yanked back her hand, abruptly breaking the handshake. Tashi's reaction didn't phase Gianna at all, instead, it made her even more smug.

"And so it begins," she thought amusedly.

Walking back to her bench, she grabbed her gear and put it in her sports bag before leaving the court. Gianna had barely gotten far from the tennis court when Art fell in step beside her.

"Great match!" he complimented, with a grin.

A light chuckle left her, "All in a day's work," Gianna replied, lazily looking over at him.

"Everything alright between you and Tashi?" Art wondered. "She looked pissed off when you two were at the net," he remarked.

"She'll be fine," Gianna assured, with a dismissive wave of her hand. "You know how Tashi gets when she loses to me," she reminded, briefly looking ahead her. "She hates being humbled," Gianna added, smugness growing within her.

"Do you think she—"

Her head whipped in his direction, "You wanna come with me to dinner with my family?" Gianna asked suddenly, cutting him off mid-sentence.

She's had enough of Tashi for the last hour and a half, it was time to place attention elsewhere.

"Seeing how my best friend is not going to talk to me for the rest of the day," she went on.

"Wouldn't I be intruding?" Art questioned, one of his brows raising.

"No, because I invited you," Gianna answered simply. The two came to a stop on the corner of the sidewalk, facing each other. "Come on, I need to make this dinner somewhat bearable for me," she said, grabbing a hold of his hand with both of hers after seeing the indecision on his face.

Art's eyes flitted down to their hands, his throat bobbing before he swallowed thickly. In the back of her mind, Gianna knew what she was doing wrong, to essentially be toying with his emotions, but she desperately needed a buffer from her dad.

Gianna looked at him from under my lashes, "Pretty please, Art? For me?" she asked, using her thumbs to trace circles on his skin.

Art inhaled deeply, his eyes darting back to hers and he wordlessly nodded his head.

"Yeah, yeah!" he agreed hoarsely, finally finding his voice. "I would love to, Gia,"

"Uhh, you're the best!" Gianna cheered, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Without thinking, she stood on her tip toes and pecked him on the cheek. She pulled back, a grin on her face as she stared at Art who had a smile playing lazily on his lips. Gianna spun around, resuming her path back to her room.

"Meet me at my dorm in an hour," she exclaimed, not bothering to turn around.

Today, it was Gianna’s world and everybody else was living in it.

~~~x~~~

A few hours later

On the floor of Gianna's dorm room, biology notes, index cards, and textbooks were pushed off to the side and strewn about. Her and Art were studying for their upcoming quiz, but Gianna decided she had a better way to occupy their time. With one foot outstretched along the plush rug and the other being held by Art as he blew on it, Gianna let her head bob along to "Sittin' Up In My Room" by Brandy playing on her docking station as her toenails dried.

"When your parents dropped us off before they left your father said 'I'm glad to see developing an identity of your own'," Art quoted, looking over her toes and at her. "Why did he say that?" he questioned curiously.

Gianna let her head fall back letting out a long, dramatic sigh, "It's a long story, but also a short one," she answered, running her fingers through her hair. "My dad and honestly my mom as well, believe that I cannot be my entire self or even unlock my full potential if I'm always attached to Tashi's hip," she explained.

"Wait, they're upset because you're too close to your best friend?" Art asked incredulously.

"I know. Ridiculous, right?" she said, tossing her hand up in the air.

"If that's how your parents think of your friendship with Tashi, that may explain why your mother was giving me the cold shoulder at dinner," Art reasoned, adjusting his grip on her foot.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about," Gianna apologized sheepishly. "I don't what that was about," she said, shaking her head.

"No, it's fine," he assured. "I'm pretty sure Farrah hates me as well, so it balances it out," Art commented, with a chuckle.

Gianna's eyebrow arched, "What makes you say that?" she wondered, chuckling at the thought.

"She said if I do wrong by you, that, and I quote 'your kneecaps are fucking mine, white boy,'" he informed, his warm breath fanning across her toes.

A smile broke out onto her face, "I'm the baby of the family, of course she's going to spout empty threats," Gianna replied, rolling her eyes playfully.

"Didn't sound that empty to me," Art complained.

"Well, we are talking about Farrah here...so you may have a point," she conceded, with a shrug.

The tickling heat of Art's blowing came to an abrupt stop.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, a concerned frown knitting his forehead.

"You know, now that you mentioned it, my ex did break my heart and he came back to school with a limp the next day," she lied.

They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds, Art's frown deepening. He opened his mouth to say something and Gianna raised her eyebrows in challenge as realization dawned on his face. Gianna's mouth began to twitch as she fought the urge to smile.

"You liar, he didn't break your heart. You broke his," he remembered, a grin spreading across his lips.

Art and Gianna held each other's stare and after a beat, they both bust out laughing. Three months had passed since their argument at the mini golf course, but they've acted as if it never occurred in the first place. Was it the healthiest way to handle the situation? Probably not. But, in a way, it benefited both of them to ignore it for their own selfish reasons.

For Gianna, her relationship with Tashi was beginning to show all the signs that it would be a stale one. She had remained dead set about not wanting to broaden her horizons for the sake of their relationship, much to Gianna's dismay. At this point, Tashi was more of a girl friend than an actual girlfriend. And Patrick, for as loving and caring as he was, the boy could be inattentive at times. Sometimes he would forget to watch Gianna's matches after she sent him a link that aired them. Or, other times he wouldn't pick up on her tone that she was not in a good mood and continue talking about his adventures as a professional tennis player.

Then, there was Art. He had been her rock whether he realized it or not. Gianna figured he stuck around because he didn't want to give up their friendship entirely, despite the you know, major crush he still harbored for her. Gianna was grateful, honestly. Everything that was transpiring in her relationship with Tashi and Patrick had actually brought them closer. Art filled in the gaps she was desperately craving from her boyfriend and girlfriend, attention and spontaneity.

"Catch," Art called, tossing her jacket towards her.

"Caught," Gianna said, grabbing it from the air with ease. "What are you trying to do? Test my reflexes?" she joked, sliding the jacket onto her arms.

"No, but I'm happy to inform you they're wonderful," he quipped. "We are going to Cantor Arts Center, somewhere I know you've been dying to get to," he informed, moving to stand in front of her.

Gianna let out a little squeal of delight as she sprung off the edge of Art's bed.

"Thank you, thank you!" Gianna exclaimed, throwing her arms around Art and hugging him tightly.

"Anything for you," he breathed, his laughter vibrating through her body.

"I don't know why you're worried about Farrah's threats," Gianna said dismissively. "You would never hurt me," she stated confidently.

"Never!" Art promised. "Out of curiosity, should I expect the same from her?" he asked, flicking his chin at the shirt Gianna had on.

Gianna glanced down at what she was wearing, it was a plain, white tee with the name of the ballet troupe that her sister danced with emblazoned on it.

"Pfft, Alicia is a downright angel compared to Farrah," Gianna assured.

"And Luke?'

"Only dangerous if you let him get close to you with a baseball bat," she warned, smiling at him. "Speaking of my brother, I'm getting tickets for the season opener game for the Dodgers, and you're coming with me," she stated, leaving no room for argument.

One of his brows rose at this, "Just me?"

"I would bring Patrick, of course," Gianna responded, leaning back on her hands. "And Tashi too, if she can squeeze me into her oh so busy schedule," she added, an undercurrent bitterness in her tone.

"I'm sure she would be thrilled to go with both her girlfriend and boyfriend to a Dodgers game," Art said, with a brief, strained smile.

At this, Gianna mentally slapped her forehead.

"Way to go on reminding him of his position in our friend group," Gianna thought.

"Oh my god, I’m so sorry Art," Gianna apologized profusely, covering her mouth with her hand. "I swear, that was not my intention when I brought up us going to the game," she insisted sincerely, reaching out and placing her hand on top of Art's knee.

He shrugged, "No harm done, Gia. I know you well enough to know it wasn't on purpose," he said, a tight smile still drawn across his mouth.

Another annoyed sigh blew past Gianna's lips, "It's so frustrating, you know? Somehow, some way, my relationship manages to find its way into every conversation, she grumbled. "It's annoying to me, I know it's gotta be annoying for you, it's probably the last thing you want to hear actually,"

"Listen, I'm always happy to lend my ear to my friend," Art reassured, his face softening while resting his hand on top of hers. "Seems like you're in need of a shoulder to lean on, I'll gladly fill that for you," he said, squeezing her hand.

She felt comforted, even though all he had offered was the simple gesture.

"I can always count on you, Art," Gianna said, grinning brightly. "Now I know what Patrick means when we talk on the phone," she remarked.

Art seemed to perk up at this, “Oh? What did he mean by that?”

"Just that I’m the easier girlfriend talk to," she revealed, with a small shrug. "Patrick and I are a lot closer than she realizes," she admitted offhandedly.

Gianna didn't miss the way Art's eyes lit up a bit, an unreadable glint in them.

"Is that so?"

"You know Tashi, she's 24/7 about tennis. She's been harping on him about losing and always trying to give him pointers when that’s not what he wants to hear," she explained. "And for him, I'm that person he can turn to talk about anything other than tennis," she continued, with a small reminiscent smile.

Gianna thought back to the time she had Patrick practically doubled over in laughter, recalling all the stupid shenanigans her and her siblings got up to back at their ranch in Louisiana. It delighted Gianna to know she was capable of eliciting that much joy from her boyfriend when he needed it the most after getting practically chewed out by Tashi following a tough loss.

"You and I share that same dynamic," Gianna went on, motioning between them. "It's so much easier talking to you Art, compared to Tashi and even sometimes Patrick. In fact, I always look forward talking to you. You make me feel seen," she confessed, feeling Art's fingers curl around her hand more tightly.

It wasn't uncomfortable nor painful, but a physical reminder that Art seemed to be hanging on her every word.

"You always engage with my interests. Every bio class, you slip a new recipe across our desk that you found on the internet for me to try, more difficult than the last," she said, unconsciously leaning in closer in. "You're even brave enough to try out said recipes, not knowing what the results will be," she joked, chuckling softly. "Anyways, I guess this is my extremely long winded way of saying I'm grateful to call you my friend. And, thank you for being such a trouper and coming to dinner with me and my family," she told him, her mouth shyly curving upwards.

A long moment of silence fell between them, the only sound filling the room was the low instrumentals of "He Loves Me" and both her breathing and his. Art coughed, briefly ducking his head down and trying to keep the blush which Gianna saw was creeping over his cheeks. When Art's eyes finally flicked back to hers, Gianna felt her insides twist. The barely disguised want in his gaze made her warm all over.

This was becoming all too familiar, this careful dance between them balancing on the tightrope of friendship and something more. Gianna's resolve to keep Art at arm's length from months ago was weakening. They both were teetering, another step closer and over, would plummet them into uncharted waters.

"I don't know if I'm deserving of such high praise you, Gia," Art said softly. His eyes darting to her lips, daringly lingering on them and then back to her eyes. "But, I promise I will never break the trust you have within me," he vowed, shifting closer to her.

"You can't tell Tashi or Patrick about this,"

Smoothly, Art's fingers slid around Gianna's hand and went under hers to lift it towards his mouth.

Art didn't take his gaze off of her, "It will be our little secret," he whispered, sealing his promise with a kiss to each knuckle more lingering than the one before.

~~~x~~~

Staring at her reflection, Gianna vigorously dabbed her sponge all over her face to blend her foundation evenly across her skin.

"Between the two of us, whoever gets the makeup deal first, can we please for the love of god make sure the foundation range goes beyond the color of a paper bag?" Gianna yelled, with a huff before finally placing the sponge onto the bathroom counter.

If she had to keep mixing two foundations just to get the correct shade for her skin any longer Gianna was going to lose her mind.

"Babe, you are the color of a paper bag," Tashi quipped, from within her room.

Gianna playfully rolled her eyes, "Yeah, only in the winter," Gianna pointed out, exiting Tashi's bathroom. "I still have a bit of my summer tan left," she said crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame.

Pushing herself off her bed, Tashi walked over to Gianna and her hands instantly found themselves attached to her hips.

"Regardless, you look amazing Juliet," Tashi teased, letting her eyes trail down Gianna's costume.

It was Halloweekend at Stanford which meant only one thing to all students across campus, three days packed full of partying. Gianna, was one of those students who was thoroughly looking forward to the festivities with a costume planned for each night. Tonight, she was dressed up in a white dress, a cross necklace, and a pair of feathered angel wings inspired by Baz Luhrmann's iconic rendition of Romeo and Juliet. It was simple, elegant and the pure white fabric of the dress against her skin made her appear ethereal.

"You’re looking fantastic yourself, Josie," Gianna complimented, noting her girlfriend's leopard print bodysuit and cat ears. "And I didn't even have to twist your arm to go out tonight," she joked, placing her hand at the back of her neck.

A faux pout found its way on Tashi's lips, "Hey, I can be fun," she said, before placing a chaste kiss on Gianna's lips.

Gianna raised an eyebrow, "Oh? This is certainly news to me," she responded, laughing a little.

"Ha-ha very funny," Tashi replied dryly, before moving down Gianna's to jaw and pressing her lips against her skin. "Excuse me for embracing the festive spirit," she deadpanned, her breath tickling her ear.

"I am not complaining one bit," Gianna clarified, with a blissful smile while Tashi kissed down her neck. "You're going to ruin my makeup," she complained, her eyes falling close and her breathing becomes ragged as Tashi found the sensitive spot on her neck.

"You're fucking hot without it," Tashi murmured, nipping at her collarbone.

A sharp series of knocks startled the two of them, breaking apart from each other in quiet laughter.

"Must be Art," Tashi guessed, fixing Gianna's hair.

"Gotta be," Gianna agreed, releasing her grip on the back of her girlfriend's neck.

Pushing herself off the door frame, Gianna took a couple, deep breathes in effort to calm her body down. With a hand on her hip, Gianna's finger wrapped themselves around the doorknob and swung open the door.

"Why the hell are you knocking like the police?" Gianna scolded warmly, staring at Art who was dressed up as Waldo with round glasses perched at the end of his nose.

Art opened his mouth to respond which Gianna assumed would be a witty one. Instead his mouth remained stuck in the same position while his eyes looked her up and down.

"You look amazing, Gia," he blurted, his mouth still open in awe.

Gianna placed her hand on her chest, "Aww really?" she asked, with a knowing smile.

"Yeah," he said, nodding his head vigorously. "You look like…well you like angelic," he breathed, flashing her a sheepish grin.

"Corny!" Tashi yelled from behind her. "Seriously Art? You couldn't have chosen the most obvious word?" she questioned, putting her arm around Gianna’s shoulder.

"It's the first word that came to mind!" he cried playfully, looking at Tashi.

"It's not Art's fault, that I'm just that breathtaking," Gianna said, placing the back of her hand to her forehead and swooning dramatically.

"Ugh, you see what you started Art?" Tashi joked, shaking her head with a smile.

Gianna turned to Tashi and they broke into a fit of laughter.

"You're gorgeous, really,"

The girls' laughing came to abrupt stop as Gianna paused, her eyes locking with Art's. She felt herself lean back, shocked by his soft utterance causing her face to heat up massively.

"Oh," Gianna breathed, still stunned. "Thank you Art, that's very sweet of you," she said, tucking some of her hair behind her ear.

Gianna wondered it was possible to get a high off of words, because she was experiencing it. From beside her, Tashi loudly cleared her throat as her hand slid down Gianna's back.

"We should get going, don't want to be late for the party," Tashi suggested, her hand curling itself around Gianna’s waist.

Gianna felt herself be tugged her ever-so-slightly closer to Tashi's side, a wordless warning to Art to watch himself. If the message was received or not, Gianna had no way of knowing, but it was from that point on there was a noticeable shift in Tashi's demeanor. And Gianna was doing everything in her power to pretend that there wasn't. She tried to defuse the subtle tension between all of them by talking about the latest horror movies released in theaters, only Art engaged in the conversation while Tashi remained uncharacteristically quiet.

With her arm wrapped still wrapped fairly tightly around Gianna's shoulder, Tashi led her to the porch of the house. Already she could feel the bass pumping from the inside and it became more intense when they entered. "Disturbia" was blasting from the speakers and cheers swept the room at the song playing. The three of them are immediately pressed together in the crowd. Gianna couldn't believe how many people had shown up to this party. The place was packed with students in all sorts of costumes, ranging from serious dedication to hilarious ones clearly thrown together at the last minute. Gianna turned her head to say something to Art, Tashi had other plans, however.

"Let's go dance!" she yelled, in order to be heard over the music.

Allowing herself to be dragged towards the center of the room, Gianna looked back at Art and flashed him an apologetic smile coupled with a half shrug before being swallowed up within the throng of partygoers. The two danced facing each other, their movements loose and carefree while their bodies swayed to the beat of the music. With every song they danced along to, Gianna watched as Tashi’s mood brighten until there was a wide smile plastered on her face as they sung along with "Everybody (Backstreet's Back)" at the top of their lungs. Their laughter filled the air and Gianna spun herself around, her hair whipping across her face while kicking up the fog lingering in the atmosphere from a fog machine set the spooky season mood.

Facing away from her girlfriend, Gianna spotted Art across the room dancing with a tipsy blonde haired girl who appeared to be having the time of her life, but Art looked completely out it and was seemingly just going through the motions in a halfhearted dance.

Gianna turned back towards Tashi, "I'm going to step out for a bit for some air!" she shouted over the music.

"Don't be too long!"

"I won't!"

Pushing her way through people, Gianna made way to the back door quickly opening and shutting it behind her. Immediately, she’s struck by the autumn air crisp and cool, leaving goosebumps on her arms. She didn’t mind it however, it was refreshing after being in a packed living room. Gianna moved across the backyard deck before finally coming to a stop at the railing and bending over to rest her arms against metal surface. Casting her glance upwards, she admired the full moon lighting up the dark sky, the stars faint due to the lights of the city in the distance.

"You're doing on that purpose,"

Gianna's face scrunched in confusion, she looked over her shoulder to see Art standing not too far behind her.

"What do you mean?" she asked, shaking her head in confusion.

"Isn't there an identical shot like this in Luhrmann's version of Romeo and Juliet?" he pointed out, making a finger frame and observing her through it.

A small laugh left her as she remembered the specific scene he was talking about; it was when Juliet was watching fireworks going off from the balcony.

"Perfect," Art said softly, angling his fingers so she was precisely aligned in the square shape of his fingers.

Gianna scoffed and rolled her eyes, "Shut up," she said, a smile on her lips.

He mirrored her expression, dropping his hands and made his way closer to her.

"Why did you come out here?" Art asked curiously, using the side of him to lean against the railing.

"It was a fucking sauna in there," she answered, which Art chuckled at. "I needed air," she added. "What about you?" she asked, flicking her chin at him. "Why are you out here? I thought you and that blonde girl were really hitting it off," she joked, with a knowing smirk.

Art let out a scoff of his own, "Shut up," he laughed, echoing her own words a minute ago.

"What? I don't want her getting jealous—"

"Jealous?" he repeated incredulously. "Even if she was, wouldn't matter," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "She doesn't compare…" he trailed off, and a breathy chuckle passed his lips.

"To me," Gianna thought, finishing his sentence.

"So no point of competing," he finished, with another small shrug.

"You never did answer my question," Gianna remarked, tilting her head to the side. "Why did you come out here?" she asked again, pushing herself up from her position and turning to fully face him.

"Seizing the opportunity to dance with you," he answered bluntly, causing Gianna's eyebrows to shoot up in surprise. "If that's alright with you?" he questioned, his voice softer in tone than before.

Inside, the speakers began playing "Time of the the Season" as Gianna mulled over his offer.

It's the time of the season

When love runs high

"It's harmless, a lot of friends dance with each other," she thought.

Her lips curved, "I suppose one dance couldn't hurt, I don't think it's going to cause a bloody feud between families," Gianna quipped, making Art smile warmly at her.

Looping her hands around his shoulders, Art's palms found themselves on the sides of her abdomen as they began to dance to the music. Then again, Gianna wasn't quite sure if she should call it that, it was more of them gently swaying back and forth. Neither of them spoke, as neither of them knew what to say. They only turned away from each other with shy smiles, both releasing quiet laughs which slightly eased the palpable tension lingering in the air between them.

"You know, back in Louisiana I used to love stargazing with my siblings on our family ranch," Gianna mentioned, breaking the silence that fell between them. "It's one of the few perks of living in the countryside. There's not any light pollution, so you're able to see the stars in their full glory unlike cities," she went on, lifting her head up at the moon and the starry sky above him. "You have to visit me in Louisiana this summer. It's a breathtaking sight honestly, their beauty is unmatched," she said wistfully, their swaying coming to a stop.

"It truly is," Art agreed softly.

Beaming, Gianna looked back down at Art to see him already staring back at her. Her breath hitched ever so slightly. There was not a trace of doubt in Gianna's mind that Art hadn't looked at a single star and was solely looking at her this whole time. His eyes traveled the length of her face before moving back to her own. All the while, Gianna mentally noted Art's hands were sliding down her sides and onto her hips, pulling their bodies closer together. A shuddering breath left Gianna feeling her heart begin to race with anticipation, a mix of want and uncertainty coursing through her.

Art leaned in towards her, "Gia," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Holding his stare, Gianna leaned in closer causing their noses to just barely brush against one another before she pulled away at the last minute in hesitation. She knew the implications of crossing this line, the risks it carried. But the warmth of Art hands seeping through the material her dress was dizzying and actively drowning out all logical reasoning from her, it just all felt too good. So natural. Slowly, Gianna moved back in as Art dipped his head down, their lips a hair's breadth apart.

An ear splitting shriek jolted the two apart and Gianna felt herself sag back against the railing, gripping it for dear life because it was damn near the only thing keeping her on her feet. Fireworks shot up into the air from the front of the house, exploding into a dazzling sight of red, green, purple, and orange. The raucous cheering of partygoers followed soon after. The frat boys must have brought the fireworks and are now setting them off in their drunken state. Gianna covered her mouth with her hand, inhaling shakily.

That was too damn close, she should have never even allowed it get that far.

Art's back was still facing her when she managed to stand at her full height. Gianna’s hand dropped down to her chest, her breathing slightly erratic and her racing just as Art turned around with a dopey smile on his face. Once he saw her expression, his smile vanished.

"Gia?" Art called, concern written all over his features. He a took step closer to her, reaching his hand out toward her. "Gia, are you alright?" he asked again.

His fingers had barely grazed hers when Gianna rushed past him and back towards the backdoor to the house.

"Gianna? Gianna what did I do? Come on, Gianna, speak to me, please!"

Art's questions and pleas were tuned out by her own voice repeatedly saying one word.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

[rat-n-atty]

MEET MY SMG4 OC CLOVE!

(fucking finally)

(Also a bit of a redesign since I kinda changed my style a bit lmao)

Meet Clove! (Enid) a 22-year-old "mad" scientist who has made the poor decision to be Smg3's assistant but who exactly is she? What's her lore? What are her goals? Why is she an Ex-villain? and all the other amazing questions you might have (or don't idk) will all be answered here!...hopefully...

"Enid Gadd" (Backstory)

Enid comes from a long line of talented and successful scientists (like her grandpa, E. Gadd more on that in a bit) but she was always seen as a black sheep of the family in short.

Ever since Enid could even talk, she has always aspired to be a great scientist just like her family but it seemed like everything she did, it meant nothing so she became E. Gadd's student when she was young (considering she was practically raised by the guy damn)

It seemed like everything Enid did though was still not enough for her parents so she said "fuck it" and decided to become someone else's assistant in hopes that she could be a better scientist than all of them and that is when Smg3 comes in...

"Clove" (assistant days)

Now, Bowser was a terrible assistant so Smg3 decided to get a new one instead so one day while Clove was just walking around the Mushroom Kingdom city; she saw a purple Mario recolor next to a stand on the side of the street with a sign that said LOOKING FOR AN EVIL ASSISTANT (WILL NOT GIVE VACATION DAYS) (why would look for one in broad daylight you dumb bitc-)

So she took her shot, lied to 3 about being "inherently evil" but she also added that she was pretty good at making bombs (which was also a half-truth) so she became Smg3's assistant from that day on.

She didn't really know what to expect at first and she thought that Smg3's main goal of being a villain at the time was kinda dumb but it was better than home so she stayed and she stayed for a long time.

She eventually became evil and she got better at her inventions and her scientific studies all for the goal of ruling the world with Smg3 and telling her entire family (not including E. Gadd) to suck it...which now brings us to the YouTube Arc...

YouTube Arc (this is where shit goes down)

Smg3 and Clove had just started on their goals of making Snitch Productions but after Smg4 destroyed it all for no damn reason (like wtf man?) they wanted revenge and they wanted it bad (Smg3 more so than Clove)

So they came up with the anti-cast and got to work but after that failed Clove said "fuck it" and started her own projects again but she found out about the YouTube remote while she was doing her research ("The World's Cursed and definitely Powerful Objects that would destroy the world if laid on the wrong hands" (great title I know) ) So they all came up with the plan to steal it.

Things had started to take a toll after they had successfully stolen the Remote per sae because now Smg3 was drunk with power to the point where it was kinda concerning Clove a bit and this is the part where Clove found out Smg3's true intentions of using the YouTube remote; It was so much more than taking over Smg4's channel, it was deleting Smg4's and his crew's entire existence. Clove knew it was too much, even for 3 but she kept quiet about her conflicting feelings (but put a pin in this later )

A big-time skip later where Clove had actually caught Mario trying to steal Smg3's phone (to hopefully get everyone out of the graveyard, you probably watched the Arc lmao) but she betrayed Smg3 by giving it to Mario anyway and freeing the entire cast out of the internet graveyard in order to stop Smg3; Everyone was confused why but they didn't ask.

WOTFI 2020 (redemption arc begins)

The final battle was here and after Clove was revealed to be a traitor and helping the Smg4 crew, it's no wonder that Smg3 lost but he was never expecting his assistant, no...someone closest to him like a friend to betray him like that.

Since Clove was the only one who really knew how to work the remote (and she was the one who had it in her hands at the time) she was the one who sent Smg3 to the Internet Graveyard for the greater good of everybody else but now that 3 was gone...she felt like she had no meaning...no purpose anymore...

After she had gotten forgiveness from Susan, Smg4 offered Clove to stay with the rest of them at the castle but she declined and said she would just lock herself up in her lab instead.

Clove's lore goes on for ages...so I'll have to make a part 2

BI GUYS!

(update: there is a part 2)

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Errors, “Errors,” and Animorphs

So in a different post I ranted about how a tiny non-distracting unfixable difference between two shirts is not an error in Jurassic Park.  IMHO, a continuity gap is only an error if:

It draws attention to itself and distracts the audience

It could’ve been fixed pretty easily in-story

It makes character, plot, or setting nonsensical

Animorphs has continuity gaps of its own.  And I have opinions about what we readers do and do not count as “error.”  First, an example that’s clearly an error:

I wondered if Tobias had heard my thought. I concentrated. Tobias, can     you hear me?

«Yeah,» he said, «I hear you.»

“Did you hear my thoughts before that?” I asked.

«No, I don’t think it works that way.  You have to think at me for me to     hear.»

—#1: The Invasion

Tobias briefly hearing Jake thought-speak in #1 breaks the rules of the setting; several other books (#2, #23, #31, #33, #46) clearly state that it’s impossible to thought-speak if one is human and not in morph.  It’s an easy fix; the re-releases and audiobooks delete this moment, and the graphic novel makes Tobias unable to hear Jake.  It distracts the audience; I’ve gotten 5 or 6 separate asks over the years of people going “I was rereading #1, and the weirdest thing...” It’s an error.  I can’t say what happened behind the scenes — K.A. Applegate toyed with a thread that was later dropped, or decided to introduce a limitation for plot fuel at a later time.  But it’s an error.

Second, an example that I don’t think counts as an error:

I returned to my life, feeling strange and out of place. That night Jake came over. We went outside.

"I tried morphing the Tyrannosaurus," he said. "Nothing. Didn't work."

"You could ask Ax. He may know why."

Jake laughed. "Yeah, but even if he explains it, I still won't understand it."

—MM2: In the Time of the Dinosaurs [Cassie’s narration]

The kids not being able to morph dinosaurs outside of the Cretaceous Era makes a lot of sense in context.  The whole book series would fundamentally change if they could use T. rex — that would become heavily a favored morph for many of them.  It kicks off all kinds of plot questions that demand answers: Where do the controllers think the “andalite bandits” got dino DNA? What anti-dinosaur measures would they be forced to adopt? Would the Animorphs’ whole strategy change around having those morphs? How would Rachel feel about everyone but Tobias suddenly having a much stronger morph than her? Would they even bother with contemporary animal morphs afterward?

If the kids are morphing dinosaurs all the time after ~#18, then the series loses a lot of its uniqueness.  Applegate has said that most of the inspiration for the series was about trying to help kids understand what it would really be like to be inside an animal mind, with as many animals as possible.  That’s part of why so many of the plots hinge on giving the Animorphs an excuse to learn a new morph (e.g. #4, #17, #27, #47, #52) so that we can experience the coolness right along with them.  That’s why the war is explicitly about fighting for Earth, nonhumans and all (#7, #23, #53).  If it’s not a menagerie of six different critters — including one immigrant from space — rolling up to battle, then it’s not Animorphs. No, it makes no dang sense that sario rip morphs stop working once the rip gets unripped.  But the series acknowledges it, and it allows us both to have a unique animal-based story (dinosaurs! Heckin dinosaurs!) without ruining its own premise.

Third, one that I find fascinating because it’s kind of right on the margin:

"What I don't get is why I have to be a girl wolf," Marco grumbled.

"We had one male and one female," Cassie explained for the tenth time. "If two of us morphed into the male, we'd have two males. Two male wolves might decide they had to fight for dominance."

"I could control it," Marco said.

"Marco, you and Jake already fight for dominance, and you're just ordinary guys," Rachel pointed out.

—#3: The Encounter

Later, Tobias’s narration uses the word “alpha” to describe Jake’s morphed behavior — howling and peeing to mark territory, challenging another wolf pack to protect his own.

There is scientific consensus right now, as of the 2020s, that the term “alpha” is an inaccurate descriptor of pack-lead behavior, and that dominance fights between adult males are almost nonexistent.  That although wolves usually run in a phalanx-like shape with one middle-aged male and female at the point, this isn’t the result of dominance fights but rather an effort to have the physically strongest wolves absorb blows from rogue prey animals or rival predators.  That the dominance fights observed in captive wolves in the 1970s were the result of an ecology error, putting wolves from rival packs into single enclosures.  Fox (1972, 1973) gave a reasonably accurate description of how wolves behave if you put a bunch of adult strangers in a zoo together: the young adult males fight, the winner of that fight wins first access to food, and the mate of the winner gets the most resources for her puppies.

However, time rolls forward, and advances like hidden cameras (and the resurgence of wild wolf populations) allow us to watch wolves without needing to capture them first.  Mech (1999) follows some such wolves around, and quickly realizes that dominance and submission aren’t nearly as important among wolves who chose to make a pack.  Stahler et al. (2002) figure out a better way to introduce stranger wolves in captivity, and get full cooperation among young adult males.  Nowadays drones and radio collars get 1000s of times the wolf data Fox had to work with, and reveal intense cooperation with little more than play-fighting among puppies.

The Encounter comes out 1997.  Mech publishes the first big takedown of the alpha concept 1999.

Did an error occur anywhere in this process?

No, in that Applegate presumably doesn’t own a Time Matrix and published a book based on the scientific consensus at the time about how wolf social dynamics worked.

Yes, in that the error is pretty distracting — I get drawn up short by it every time I reread #3, and I know others have too.

No, in that the error was corrected in the graphic novel adaptation.

Yes, in that the error is still present in the audiobook, and Michael Crouch delivers the moment about Jake being backed into a dominance fight with all of Tobias’s exasperated humor.

No, in that the error allows for some character moments, both silly (Jake peeing on trees) and sweet (Jake being ready to take on an entire rival pack alone, over a rabbit he doesn’t want).

Yes, in that the error takes away from one of the series’ most fundamental purposes, to educate kids about animals.

Anyway, books are great, science is imperfect, and I think the more we all engage with amateur criticism the more we’re all going to learn about what counts as an error in fiction writing with inspiration in scientific reality.

[lemotmo]

I love it when people who at least have an idea of how these things work get questions like this.

Q. Did you hear Ryan's podcast? I'm vibrating at this point 👀👀👀

A. Haha, I did listen to it, anon. It was a good reminder of why podcasts usually turn out to be the better interviews. If you're not aware, in 99% of print interviews the questions have been pre screened by the actors/show so they go into the interview already knowing pretty much everything they're going to say. It's why so many of them are repetitive. Podcasts tend to have a little more leeway. They usually only have to get topics pre-approved. So even though they know what topics are going to be discussed they don't usually know the specific questions. Now obviously those interviews come with greater risks because if your actor doesn't know how to edit themselves they could say something epically bad. Obviously this one was pre-recorded so he had a little bit of a safety cushion but it didn't appear to be heavily edited content wise. I love that he touched on the racist/bigoted thing. Even though this came prior to the entire Gerard nonsense, I'm glad he got a chance to tell those people how incredibly wrong they are where he is concerned. I hope he hasn't seen most of it, but given everything he has been tagged in I fear he has seen more than he should have ever had too.

He's in the position now that Oliver was last year. He's the one doing the promotional interviews, but he's just out of canned answers he can give, lol. There's nothing left for him to say except the 'thing' he can't yet say. So you can tell he's trying to make the same answers sound somewhat new and for the most part he was able to do that. It was though just one more thing that kind of made you go, yeah it's going where we think it's going. I just think the show is all out of later. They can't keep pushing the story to 'next season'. And I think that's why we're seeing so many winks and nods from ABC and the show. The comments they replied to yesterday were intentional. Yes, they deleted them but they knew the people who they were intended for would see them and remember them. It's time. Let's go.

Thanks Nonny!

Ah yes! Hard agree on everything here! I haven't seen/heard the whole podcast yet (I'm planning to listen tomorrow when I'm relaxing), but I've seen all of the videos, snippets and quotes about 911 and Eddie that were posted online.

Everything is aligning and people are noticing the change. There is this tentative surge of emotion of 'Oh wow, this is it. It's actually happening this time. No more clowning,' going around in fandom and even beyond the fandom. Love that for us.

So yeah, the time is right.

The time is now.

Let's go!

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