#i love conversations like this it's been awhile lol

[shiny-jr]

Hi! I noticed that your requests were open and I love the way you write Malleus so I was hoping you would do yandere malleus x reader. where the reader knows twisted wonderland is a game (but not imposter au pls) and after they got isekia'd are trying to stop the overblots from happening and malleus is just terrified for them. Idk just an idea I've had for awhile but never found a fanfic like lol. Obviously it's totally fine if you don't want to do it or if I accidentally broke a rule. Anyway remember to drink some water and take a break if needed! Have a amazing rest of your day/night!!

Warning: Yandere (not really, not at all). Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Malleus Draconia.

Summary: MC sees affection meters and it's not good.

Note: These are mainly thoughts and random words my mind spewed out.  

How did one claim victory at a game? Well, it entirely depended on the game, the mechanics and the options. It should've been impossible to lose a mobile game that was primarily composed of the gacha mechanism and visual novels.

When you suddenly found yourself in the series of twisted villains in a prestigious school of magic, you found that it was much more complex than it appeared on screen. Especially when only you could see these small bars occasionally floating above people's heads. Bars which you recognized as affection meters, nearly all of them stagnant at a dull gray 0% when you first arrived. This was the hurdle blocking your way to an easy victory. Because how else were you to escape the game, other than complete it?

Situations became messier, when you didn't have a dialogue options between two mere choices. Add making good impressions and keeping a character's favor, to the list of quests alongside avoiding death by inky overblotted characters. By some miracle, you had increased the affection of the characters you met and interacted with to a healthy 5% or 10%, sometimes more. At any cost you wished to avoid getting in the negatives, because you did not want to find out what would happen then.

Sometimes, the numbers would drop dangerously close to zero, mainly when an overblot was occuring. Never had you realized how the visual novel failed spectacularly at portraying the utter horror of the overblotted in all their wicked glory. The black inky darkness leaking from them like tears or blood with those crazed unhinged looks in their eyes–– was the stuff of pure nightmares.

And yet the one whose overblot you had been dreading the most, the dorm leader of Diasomnia, was surprisingly docile as you dealt with others. However, you knew even when conversing with him, that you would one day witness him overblot and look like some ethereal but deadly fallen angel. So mentally you prepared yourself, while taking on the task of keeping up appearances.

Malleus' affection meter, was a good 20% and a friendly pink shade, quite the accomplishment you were proud of, considering the majority of the cast wasn't even at 15%. The Draconia heir was certainly someone you never wanted to see reach below zero, so you did your absolute best to appeal to him, even if he was quite intimidating at first with the way he stoically watched you complain about the least of your worries, homework and classes.

By the time you spoke to him about your troubles with the Ramshackle dorm and Azul, during what you knew was the Octavinelle arc, the prince's affection had sprouted to a 22%. When you went into more detail of the potential loss you could face, it went to 23%.

The next time you saw him, you were weary and antsy since witnessing Azul's break-down. If the blot of his tears had the magic to gather, it would've been enough to drown, you were sure of it. Even by that maniac look in his eyes, you're sure he would've purposely drowned you if he got close enough.

Throughout that charlatan's chapter, his affection meter had slowly been rising, dropping during the overblot like the tides only to rise once again by the end to a good 45%. This was good!

But no matter how much you may have pondered, strategized, or try to predict each next action, you could've never guessed that the next time you saw Malleus after Azul's overblot, his expression taut with concern, his affection meter had made a jump to 55% and turned red. This entire time you had been avoiding the negatives, but you never once worried of the dangers and implications a red affection meter above 50% would mean for you. Or heaven forbid, anything close to 100%.

[ellabscrush]

— play with my pussy, not my heart.

a/n; this has been an idea in my head for awhile but kept scrapping it, hopefully this is alr. btw my requests are opennn.

𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫!𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

cw; smut, mdni, fingering, reader has a nervous habit that might triggering, dom!reader, flirting, language, slap kink once, arguing, abby is a dick here lol, trust issues, angst?? lmk if i missed any!!

sypnosis; your well known girlfriend who has a reputation of being a player finally decides to settle into a serious relationship with you. aware of your girlfriend’s past, abby’s project partner comes to intervene with your thoughts & worries. back and forth arguing isn’t going anywhere, you had to show her other ways on who not to mess with.

— ˚ෆ ⋅˚ —

“it’s just a small study sesh baby, nat even agreed to do it at our apartment!” abby walks towards you as she hovers over, “so no need to worry, ‘kay?”

she caresses your face and pecked your lips.

nat, aka natasha ferreira, is apart of western university’s dance team. you’ve seen her around before wearing white flowy skirts and layered jewelry. you once heard her talking about how her parents got a brand new bmw for her quinceañera.

i guess there was nothing to hate about her, other than the fact she is gorgeous and very talented with her dancing. this was just another one of your stupid overthinking.. right?

“okay abs.. thank you,” you gave her a soft smile.

“that’s my best girl.”

besides, trust was the thing you both had been working on these past months. dating abby was going to be a challenge. you knew it and your friends knew it. though they weren’t too supportive with her intentions at first, you were convinced abby could change her acts if she reallyy tried.

three knocks suddenly interrupted your little conversation. abby sprinted to the door and opens it to find a joyful figure in front of her.

nat gasps, “abby! this is my first time seeing you outside of uni,” she smiles with excitement.

abby smiled back and leaned for a hug, leaving you to stare at them with a lump of jealousy in your throat.

— ˚ෆ ⋅˚ —

one minute you were next to abby, and then the second the brunette is touching forearms besides her with those stupid doe eyes, glossed lips, and weirdly seductive black platform heels. god she’s annoying.

“your handwriting is shit!” the brunette teased, giggling as she leans to abby.

“yeah?” your girlfriend chuckles, “this is what you get for choosing me as your partner.”

nat shrugs, “well then i can deal with it.”

you tried so hard to not be bitter. really you did. but each time you glance at the two across the kitchen island, you swore the both of them were doing this shit on purpose.

sudden eye contacts with you everytime they laughed together, unrelated conversations, and some flirty remarks. oh, and not to mention the obvious footsies that was happening under the table. like you can literally see it.

“fuck me..” you muttered.

“what’s that princess?” abby asks you, the nickname made nat changed her demeanor quickly.

you turned back to meet nat’s eyes, then to abby, and back to nat.

“nothin’ love,” you put a convincing smile.

three hours long night full of giggling and jokes you didn’t even get later on.. you find yourself yelling back and forth in your shared bedroom with abby who literally couldn’t understand where you were coming from.

abby groans, “goddamnit we talked about this!”

“i never did anything to her, you were literally infront of us,” she raised her voice.

“abs, she deadass rubbed her foot on your leg multiple times and leaned to you everytime you both laughed..”you went on, getting more frustrated by the minute.

“well.. we’re just having a little fun, is that romantic to you?” abby asks with her hand crossed to her chest, her facial expression screams ‘you’re being crazy.’

you were exhausted trying to find ways to communicate without bringing up abby’s past, like you both agreed to. however, your concerns shouldn’t supposed to end in argument. you shook your head, letting out a long sigh and sat on the edge of the bed.

“i- i don’t know abby,” you stammered, “i guess it is romantic when they do the things i do to you.. since i am yours.”

you gazed down at your feet with teary eyes while unaware as you were digging your nails into your thighs. this was a nervous habit of yours in which you don’t realize you have been doing it for so long. your girlfriend, however, does.

she slowly walks closer to the edge of the bed and kneeled down to your eye level.

“you are mine.” her voice sounding more reassuring and softer like you could faint at that moment.

“i thought you could’ve been better for me..” you sniffled

abby panicks once she realizes you were crying, “baby no.. fuck i’m trying..”

“trying?” you looked up.

the blonde sighs, “will. i will be better.”

she moved your hands from your thighs with one hand, while other pushes your head closer to hers for a deep kiss. more so, a sloppy one. she wipes your cheeks and the kisses started from sweet, to mean in a heartbeat. abby stroked you waist, making you clench you thighs together.

abby smirks, “you turned on princess?” she asks and you just whimpered in response, “fuck.. i gotta wake up early tomorrow.”

knowing your girlfriend has plans tomorrow morning, this sparked an idea in your head. abby can become a submissive mess when you’re in charge. so you decide to show her other ways who not to play with, and whose pussy she can only play with!

“so?” you replied in between kisses, “don’t want me to scream your name tonight?”

.. besides, making her miss out a big free brunch with her friends the next day will be an added punishment you thought.

the blonde smiles and throws you to the middle of the bed, causing you to squeal from the unexpected move. abby aggressively pulls down your shorts and underwear. your wet slick was ready for her.

“look at you all ready for me,” she circles her thumb on your lips slowly, “gotta fuck that jealousy out quick or else i’ll be late tomorrow, princess.”

you smiled maliciously in response as you bite your lip. abby then shoves her two fingers inside your mouth, “open.”

she pumps her ring and middle finger in and out. being all soaked in your drool making it wet enough to fit in your pussy. the sounds of your whimpers made her go crazy. you shut your eyes feeling abby’s cold, drenched fingers sliding inside.

your body shuttered, “s-shit baby..”

the sounds of your wet pussy is practically making abby drool.

“feels so fuckin’ good, keep going,” you ordered keeping a strong eye contact with the blonde, “just like that..”

“that fucking pussy,” abby whispers, you licked your lips looking down at her fat fingers going in and out, “you needy whore,” she degrades.

her words were like fire and heaven at the same time. you wouldn’t be so pissed off at her if she hadn’t let nat be all over her for three hours straight. now it’s your job to remind her whose pussy she can fuck. and the only one.

you let out an airy laugh, “i’m the whore hm? atleast i wasn’t flirting with another bitch,” she looks up at your face. you were trying to keep your composure while being mercilessly fucked.

you sat yourself up with elbows on the mattress, “you proud of yourself huh?” just inches away from her stupid smirk.

“faster,” you demanded.

she curled her fingers inside of you, hitting your g spot like a pro. you can help but let out a moan and rocked your hips in rhythm. that smirk of hets turned to an amazed expression once she hears your juices sloshing around.

“fuck baby,” abby was practically drenched under her pjs wanting to taste you, “p-please need to taste you.”

“nuh uh, you’re being mean all day. you don’t, f-fuck, deserve me.”

abby was desperate just by hearing you speak like this. you’re such an angel around her normally, like when she first met you, you were different than the other girls she had met before. she fell for you. but damn that mouth of yours was killer in bed.

the rare times you controlled her was only when you were pissed off at your girlfriend for the amount of disrespectful flirting that was happening in front of you, or not giving you updates on what she’s doing with her girl friends. however, you can’t blame yourself for having mixed trust issues knowing how many girlfriends abby has had.

maybe you’ve been too patient with her? letting shit go so easily?

“shit- c’mere” you groaned and kissed her viciously at the thought of her fucking another girl. one hand around her neck while the other grips her loose hair.

“mmm, keep going..” you moaned in her mouth.

abby rubs your clit, feeling your juices squirting all over her thighs, “p-please baby.. lemme clean you up” she begs to lick your folds but you resisted.

you slapped her cheek, her needy face turning red.

“shut up,” you growled, “better stop messing around.. i deserve fuckin’ better.”

abby whimpers, putting her head back in frustration. she then looks down to see you, a dripping pussy drunk mess. her fingers were sticky and all tired. however, she’s not stopping until she screams your name.

“atleast say my name when you cum,” she pleaded, “please.”

her voice made you feel every type of way. your thighs starting to heat up, a familiar feeling as you have had fucked yourself with the thought of her in the past. pounding noises as you thrust your hips on to her fingers harder puts many heated scenes in your head.

“abby.. oh my god- m’ fucking cumming..”

“that’s my girl, ride daddy’s dick,” she encourages you.

an orgasm was washing over you, “abby you’re mine. fuck- ah-“ you burried your face in the crooks of her neck.

“all yours baby, i’m sorry.” she kissed all over your shoulder, genuinely feeling bad that she didn’t give you the reassurance you wanted earlier.

“abs- fuckfuckfuck,” you screamed out, screaming her name loud enough the apartment below could hear you, “i hate you so much..”

“i love you princess.. love it when i make you cum..” she admits. your legs shaking like crazy, feeling overstimulated.

you know how that goes..

once you orgasmed, you let abby suck her fingers, tasting every bit of yourself. and just like that, you were laying down with a fast pounding in your chest. she caresses your stomach and kissed all over your body, still needing to feel you more. but knew you needed her the most.

“hey, you okay?” she asked softly, looking at your sleepy eyes. she just wanted the both of you to be good. “i’m fine.. just a little tired. i feel like you don’t know how badly it hurts me to see you purposely being all over people like that.”

abby sighs, knowing she fucked up. she didn’t want to be that person anymore. she loved you, really, but her actions just aren’t the thinkable. you both sleep skin to skin while she stays up to watch you fall deep in your sleep.

“i love you, angel.” she whispers. feeling all the guilt in her chest, your girlfriend pulls you in closer.

of course, she had to make it up to you the next day so she cancelled all plans. it’s not like she got up in time anyway.

well now you both know she won’t ever be doing that shit again.

— ˚ෆ ⋅˚ —

[totalswag]

how much did you drink? — RAFE CAMERON

authors note hi loves!! i know i disappeared for awhile, my personal life got extremely busy and i never had time to write on my computer. i'm so excited to be back and writing for you guys though. this fic has been in my google doc for small minute and i got a request from an anon somewhat similar to this fic too, lol.

summary y/n getting a little too drunk at a party and rafe has to come pick her up

warnings drinking, swearing, smoking, sexual tension, implied smut?

Lets face it, you were drunk, like really drunk.

You made the decision to come out on a Saturday night with Sarah to John B’s. People dancing, making out everywhere, smoking, drinking, along with loud music.

As the night progressed you were on the table dancing with your best friend with bottles of tequila in your hands, everyone cheering you two on as you continued dancing.

“I’m having so much fun tonight” your words are slurring at this point. 

“Me too,” your friend giggled.

Topper and Kelce shook their heads while they stood near the kitchen. Rafe, your boyfriend, told Topper and Kelce to watch you simply because he wasn't at the party.

“She's about to do something dumb” Topper murmurs, and Kelce nods in agreement.

Kelce replies, "I think it's time we called Rafe."

Topper calls Rafe, while Kelce tries to get you off the table but fails when you say no and to go away so you can drink more. Kelce turns around, sending Topper the clear message that Rafe needs to arrive as quickly as possible.

"Yo, Rafe, sorry for bothering you, but Y/N is really drunk and dancing on the table, and she won't listen to us" Topper scratched his chin, glancing at Kelce, who was attempting to get you off the table.

"Are you being serious?" Rafe must have been in a deep sleep based on the sound of his voice. 

"Yeah, could you pick her up?" He begs.

Topper can hear Rafe's end shifting, "I'll be there soon, just keep an eye on here, please." Rafe sighs and hangs up the phone. 

Meanwhile, Topper and Kelce were eventually able to get you off the table by claiming a drinking game was about to begin, which was correct. You stood in the kitchen with the guys and few other friends watching while others set out the red solo cups on the board.

Your friends came into the kitchen to see what you were doing and they were worried about you because they couldn’t find you.

"These two have me on lock down so I don't drink anymore but oddly waiting to play a drinking game," you add, staring at the girls before wandering your gaze over to Kelce and Topper, who are in the middle of a conversation with a few of their buddies.

Your friends laugh, shaking their heads, telling you, you should still be drinking and having fun.

"I'm so drunk right now, it's not even funny," you hiccuped as your body swayed back and forth, almost knocking you off your feet.

Topper leaned over the counter, grabbing you before you fell.

"Y/N, please drink the water," he says as he puts the water bottle out to you, you look at him, shaking your head as you push it away with your hand.

"Drink the water now, Y/N, we're going home," your boyfriend said, filling your ears. You circle around, placing your arms around his waist, excited. 

"You guys are no fun," you scoff.

"That hangover isn't going to be fun in the morning," Rafe responds. 

“How much did you drink baby?” he asks, lifting your chin up, making eye contact with you.

“I drank a lot and smoked too” you answered truthly, hiccuping.

"You are so hot, I could just fu-" you run your hands down his stomach, removing his shirt a little and gliding your hands on his exposed skin. Rafe stopped you before you could complete your sentence.

Usually when you drink too much and Rafe’s around you get very touchy with him and start saying unholy words from your mouth which leads to fucking or you need to really sober up. You can’t stop but think of how good he looks right now.

Rafe comes to these types of parties with you but tonight he wasn’t feeling it. He trusts you going to parties with your friends or the guys cause he knows you would never do anything that can hurt your relationship.

"All right, that's enough for the night. "Seriously, drink the water," he says, twisting the cap and handing you the water to sip. You realized nothing else would work, so you drank the water.

Rafe watched as you drank the water. When you get this drunk no one else can handle you unless it’s Rafe because he’s been around you enough to know. Your best friends get drunk with you so them being drunk trying to help you too doesn’t make the situation better.

When you finished the water, you wrapped your arms around Rafe, nuzzling your face in his chest mumbling words. He took it as a sign that you were ready to leave the party.

“We’ll walk you two out” Topper suggested to Rafe.

“Yeah that would be helpful, thank you” picking you up in braid style.

You lifted your head from Rafe's chest, confused as to why he began guiding you from the kitchen to the front door. "Why are we leaving?" you asked as you pulled away. "I want to stay," you protest, pointing back to your friends. 

Rafe sighs, closing his eyes, "baby you are drunk and have been drinking a lot" he pauses, "you need to rest too" you pout.

“Say goodnight to them real quick,”

When you walk back to the kitchen your friends eye’s light up but faces drop when you tell them you were saying goodnight. They told you to be safe and see you tomorrow.

“I better get dick out of this” you sarcastically state, making the girls laugh.

“I love you girls” you wave as you leave the kitchen.

You flip Rafe off as you walk past him, giving him a blank stare. He throws his hands in the air, shaking his head, then follows you out the door.

The car ride to his house took five minutes. You were knocked out in the passenger seat curled up in a ball. You woke up when you felt the truck come to a complete stop. Rafe opened the door, carrying you inside.

You start singing a song from the party when you enter the Cameron household. Rafe chuckled as he locked the door then came behind you.

“You need to stay quiet because everyone's sleeping,” Rafe whispered softly.

“Oh my bad” you quickly stop, putting your hand over your mouth.

He lays you on his bed and goes in his closet for clothes for you. He comes back with sweats and one of your favorite t-shirts of his. Before you could lift your shirt, he stopped you.

“Let me do it please” he kisses your cheek.

He led you into the bathroom to remove your makeup and then dab water on your face to freshen it up before taking you into bed. When you spent the night, there was Advil and ice water on your side of the bed. 

Rafe could tell you were still drunk by your facial expressions.

In your drunken state, seeing the Advil and water on the nightstand warms your heart, "Thank you baby," you look up, then pop the Advil in your mouth and take a long sip of the water. 

"Need to make sure my girl is okay," he grins.

"How about we get into bed and sleep?" He then pulls you both into bed.

You quickly close your eyes when your head makes contact with his chest.

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[eomayas]

be alright • kmg

pairing: non-idol!mingyu x gn!reader, established relationship

genre: angst & fluff

synopsis: reader has a hard time asking for and accepting help, and that’s all mingyu wants to do

warnings: reader uses a purse, hyper-independent reader, arguments, reader is mean to mingyu but it’s resolved, healthy communication, mention of reader wearing women’s clothing

a/n: got inspo from SATC where carries computer breaks lol. i love making my reader unconventional because its not super common in fics!

“let me hold something,” mingyu says, reaching for the bag in your hand, but you jerk it away from him as you fumble with the keys.

“i got it,” you say, balancing your phone, purse, and keys in one hand while not dropping the shopping bags in the other. mingyu sighs quietly behind you, just as you shove the key into the lock with success, and open your your apartment. “see.”

mingyu chuckles, but it sounds more like a scoff that you ignore. you drop your items onto your small kitchen table, hands finally free of holding a million things at once. curse tiny purses and the lack of pockets on women’s clothing! “where do you want these?” mingyu asks from your kitchen, holding up some groceries in his hand. the pantry where you keep them is to his left, but there’s a certain order in which you keep things, and you’d rather not explain it at the moment.

“don’t worry about it, i’ll do it,” you say, walking into the kitchen and plucking the items from his hand. you move around mingyu to the cupboard and put your groceries away, just dancing around him until you’ve put everything in their places. “what’s wrong?” you ask mingyu once you’re done. he leans against one of your counters with his arms crossed over his chest and his face pinched.

mingyu opens his mouth, but closes it immediately as if trying to measure his words. he pokes his tongue in the side of his cheek and sweeps his eyes around your kitchen before landing them on you. “i’m just trying to help,” he says, tugging his beanie off and running a hand through his hair, yanking at the roots.

you tilt hour head to the side, confusion littered across your face. “what do you mean?”

mingyu chuckles and shakes his head, lightly pinching the bridge of his nose before sighing, his shoulders rising and dropping hard, like he’s been holding it in for awhile. “you don’t let me help you—with anything, ever. you never ask me for help,” he says.

“because i don’t need it.”

your response is quick, was sitting on the tip of your tongue the moment he opened his mouth for the second time to explain to you. it’s the truth, whether you wanted to spell it out for him, or if he actually wanted to hear it. you can do things on your own, take care of yourself. you don’t need anybody else to do it for you. “you don’t need it? or you don’t want it?” he fires back, making you cock your head back in surprise. is this your first fight?

“both. and if i needed your help, id ask,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. the frown on his face deepening.

“i am just trying to help.”

“and if i needed your help id ask, mingyu!” you don’t mean to shout, but you’re done with the conversation. “if you don’t like it, then…” you shrug and gesture vaguely. you watch his face morph from frustration, into something that makes your heart deflate in your chest.

“then what?” he questions, and all you can do is shrug, swallowing the lump in your throat. “really?” he imitates your shrug and straightens up against the counter, hurt taking over his expressions. “how could you say something like that, y/n?”

your nose starts to burn and your throat feels clogged. you sniff and blink a few times to keep the tears that threaten to fall at bay. “that’s just how i am, mingyu. i don’t know what else you want me to say.”

mingyu drops his hands to his sides and pushes himself off of the counter. “i’ll just… see you later, i guess,” he mutters, snatching his beanie off the counter and pulling it on. you don’t make a move to stop him as he walks down the hall to your door. you stay planted in the kitchen, slumping when you hear your front door close—he doesn’t even do you the favor of slamming it so you could have a reason upset with him later, to give yourself an out for how you’ve talked to him. you expect the tears to come, but they don’t. still, you stay rooted in the kitchen for a few minutes to collect yourself and your thoughts.

surely, you’ve been on you own before. the world isn’t going to end because you’re by yourself.

by the third day of no contact, you start to feel like the world may end—maybe not today, but sometime soon. the lack of random, sweet texts throughout the day make you itch for his attention. it starts to makes you feel bad, and by the fourth day you’ve decided you’ve had enough—of the silence, of yourself. all of it.

sitting in the dark of your car, you dial up his number and press it against your ear. your acrylic nail flies up to your mouth, and you anxiously put it between your teeth as the phone rings, and rings, and—“hello?” mingyus voice ripples through the speaker and fills your heart up with hope.

“hi. are you home? can we talk?” you ask. it sounds quiet on the other side of the phone, and you desperately need to see him, before you lose the one person you’ve probably wanted the most in this lifetime.

mingyu is quiet for awhile before saying. “i am,” he takes a pause, and you hold your breath. “you can come over.” and you let out the breath, a sigh of relief at his voice and his words and the fact that you have a chance of getting your man back.

“okay, ill be over soon.”

you pull up in front of his apartment building ten minutes later. you rush out of the car and bound into the lobby, opting for the stairs because there’s already somebody waiting for the elevator. he only lives on the third floor anyway.

coming to a stop in front of his door, you take a deep breath before raising your fist to deliver three short knocks to the door. you count the seconds in your head before he answers—23–and he’s pulling a shirt over his head as he gestures for you to come inside. it takes everything in you not to rush into him, to beg him to come back to you and for his forgiveness. you’re much more civil than that, thanking him for letting you come over, and standing promptly in the foyer.

mingyu chuckles and shakes his head at you before sighing and dropping his shoulders. “y/n, you don’t have to stand in the hallway like you’ve never been here before,” he slips past you, his hand colliding with the small of your back (definitely on purpose), and walks ahead of you into the living room. with a start, you follow after him into his living room, glancing around for a safe place to sit. you worry that if you’re too close to him, your words won’t come out right and this drive here would be a waste of time.

you opt to keep standing, leaning against the wall adjacent from him. he sits lazily on the couch, his arm draped across the back and his legs outstretched in front of him. he keeps his gaze on you, a silent stand off happening between the two of you. “so…” he trails off, and your stomach roils.

“okay, well, first off—i’m sorry for the other day. i know you just want to help, and i appreciate it. i really do. i’m just not a person who needs it, mingyu. it has nothing to do with you specifically—it’s just how im wired,” you say, blowing out a breath. his lip quirks at your last comment before dropping back to the emotionless expression he was wearing previously. “and i really miss you, you know? i-i really, really fucking miss you.” pressing your hands into your stomach, you swallow the lump in your throat and ignore the burning in the back of your nose.

mingyu shifts on the couch, bringing his hand up to his hair to muss. “i know, but you can’t just… you can’t just tell me to get over it, or leave, y/n. i don’t think you realize how mean that was,” you cringe at his words, feeling even more like shit. if he called you a ‘bitch’ you’d probably hate it less than him calling you mean.

your feet are waking you over to him before you realize it. you sit next to him and grab his hands, grateful that he lets you with no pushback. “i really like you, y/n, and i really care about you, too. i don’t think you’re weak, or incapable, when i offer to help you with things. i just want to make things easier for you if i can. i just want you to let me shoulder some of the weight for you,” mingyu adds, his voice sincere and his eyes saying more than his words did. you gnaw at your bottom lip as you try to blink back pathetic tears. you’re not prone to tears, but with mingyu that’s all you feel like you can do right now.

taking a deep breath, you swallow the lump in your throat and try to keep your voice even. “mingyu, im really sorry. i-im just used to taking care of myself,” you let go of one of his hands to harshly wipe away tears from under your eyes, closing them for a brief moment and blowing out a breath. mingyu doesn’t rush you to get the words out, just sits there quietly and waits for you to be ready. “if i start letting you do things for me, one day you’re not going to be there. i can’t let myself get used to that, and then one day you’re gone.”

“i’m not going anywhere.”

that brings a small smile to your lips. “but if you’re—i don’t know, gone, and i need you but you’re not there, what am i supposed to do? and nothing is guaranteed…” you sigh and hunch your shoulders, staring at his face. he looks like he’s choosing his words carefully, opening his mouth and closing it a few times.

“then we will just figure it out, y/n. don’t focus on what hasn’t happened yet, okay? i’m not going anywhere, especially not soon,” he tugs you towards him by your hands, and you fall into his chest and rest your face in the crook of his neck. “just don’t push me away.” he says, his voice a whisper. you cringe inwardly and press a chaste kiss to his neck, letting you lips linger before hugging yourself into him.

he wraps his strong arms around you and holds you tightly against him. “i’m sorry,” you say into his skin, voice hoarse as silent tears leak out of your eyes. you feel relief, and a sort of sadness for who you almost lost, but mainly just relief. you also feel like the biggest asshole ever, but you know that feeling will pass.

“hey,” mingyu coos softly, pulling his head back to look down at you. you lift your head and he wipes your tears away with his thumb. “we’ll be alright, baby.”

and he’s right. you’re not going to magically relinquish all autonomy to make your relationship work, but you can start accepting help when it’s offered, and start asking when some things feel too big for a single person. that’s what a partnership is, right? taking another persons burden and making it your burden too?

[wroetominter]

New Years Eve - George Clarke

Thank you to the lovely anon who requested this! I didn’t fully intend for this to be smutty, but it did take a slightly dirty turn. I made it a little more pg, though!

In which George and Y/n have been broken up for awhile, and the hands of fate, or a cheeky flatmate bring them back in each others arms.

Pairing: George X FemReader

Warnings: minor smut.

So the reader & George are broken up and the break up is still rather fresh but they've decided to continue being friends as it was mutual. The boys host a New Year's Eve party at their flat which the reader attends and somehow her & George end up getting back together maybe after some interference from their friends lol

I had never really been one for parties. Let alone a party full of drunk people where the biggest expectation is to go home with someone. Being a YouTuber, however brought on some interesting challenges with this. Content making, being the number one factor I had to face.

The choice was simple really, decline the invitation and miss out on being able to make stories, TikTok’s, and vlogs of the party, or go to the party, and probably have a great time, but at the risk of seeing someone hadn’t laid my eyes on in months.

Feeling rather risky, I had accepted the invitation to the boys New Years Eve party. The day had approached much faster than anticipated and I was now on my way through the all too familiar streets of London to a flat I had known like my own for over a year.

George and I had split amicably around two months ago, with neither of us really having the time to commit to a relationship. It was mutual, but it still hurt like a bitch to not only lose a boyfriend, but a best friend in one fell swoop.

I had secretly been hoping we could pick back up as friends, similar to how Chris and Shannon had done, but I unfortunately had been too terrified to even try and message him. No matter how badly I wanted to.

Making my way up the elevator, I purposely made sure to be fashionably late, hoping to slip in unnoticed and find myself a drink to gain some liquid confidence.

I knocked on the door, realizing it had been propped open so I could just let myself in.

“Darling you made it!” Becky shouted at me from across the room as I stepped into the crowd of people adorning the living room.

I hugged her, having some small talk before I made my way to the kitchen to pour myself a drink.

Stood there at the island was George with Chris, my breath hitched slightly at the sight of him. He had on a black knit sweater and corduroy trousers, with his newly long haircut sporting a few small curls that I found to be extremely flattering on him.

“Hey Y/n, how are you?” Chris asked pulling me in for a hug.

“I’m well thank you, how are you?” George took a sip of his drink, eyes never leaving mine over the rim of his glass.

“Yeah good thanks, glad you could make it. Pour yourself a drink and enjoy the night, I know I will!” He quickly rushed off to another group leaving George and I alone in the kitchen.

I looked to him, not knowing how to start a conversation with him.

“You look lovely” he started. I suddenly found myself tucking my arms around myself, feeling weirdly self conscious even though at one point George knew my body better than I did.

“Thank you, you do as well.. I like the…erm… new haircut” I stumbled over my words, and he smiled at me.

“Thank you, it’s not my usual but I figured I’d try it out.” We trailed off in a slightly awkward silence. I looked around nervously, deciding to finally get the drink I had came in here for. “See you around, I’m going to speak with Arthur,” George left the kitchen. I let out a sigh, cursing myself for being so damn awkward. I quickly backed a shot of vodka before I mixed up my drink, deciding it was probably the best night to get drunk if any.

The night progressed in a fun manner, random games and forfeits being played, shots taken, and drinks consumed by all.

The clock struck 11:50pm and I found myself getting nervous for midnight. I was not ready to be the only person in this large of a group not kissing someone. I knew it was inevitable, but it still didn’t feel like something I was ready for.

Pulled from my thoughts, Arthur Hill joined me in the living room looking out their window at the lovely view of London. “He hasn’t moved on, just so you know.” He sipped his drink.

“George?” I questioned, turning to face him.

He nodded. “I haven’t seen him so much as look at another girl. The photo I took of you two asleep on the train is still his phone background.” I stood there staring at him, a little dumbfounded.

“Why hasn’t he said anything to me about it?” I asked him. Figuring if anyone knew apart from George himself, it would be Arthur.

“He doesn’t want to bother you. He thinks you want to move on.” He said. We were then interrupted by none other than the man we were talking about.

“What’s going on over here?” From knowing George so well, I could tell he was now feeling the effects of the alcohol he had.

“Just checking on our dear Y/n over here. She looked a bit lonely, figured I’d offer her up a New Years kiss if she fancied.” My head shot around to meet Arthur’s.

In the time we were together, I found George to be a very loyal boyfriend, which obviously came with some jealous tendencies. These tended to arise when his mates would playfully flirt with me. Arthur knew that all too well, and it was evident on both his face, and George’s, that his plan had worked.

“I don’t know about that one Arthur, think I’d rather kiss myself in the mirror love.” I retorted, causing a small chuckle from the singer.

“Well, that’s me gone then, countdown is about to begin. Gotta go find someone who does want to kiss this pretty face,” he left, leaving George and I stood by the window alone. Everyone else had found themselves a partner. Nervous was the understatement of the year, thank god that one was almost over.

“Ten!” Butterflies grew in my stomach as I looked around the room.

“Nine!” I took a deep breath.

“Eight!” George brought himself closer to me, and I could feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“Seven!” Fuck. This was about to be the weirdest thirty seconds of my life.

“Six!” Is George feeling any of these nerves?

“Five!” - “remind me again why we broke up?” George asked.

“Four!” I stared at him.

“Three!” - “I don’t know anymore.” I whispered.

“Two!” - “let’s give this a go then?”

“One!” - “fuck it.”

George and I leaned in, lips meeting in the middle as everyone around us either kissed their partners or screamed “Happy New Year!”

I had forgotten completely how intoxicating it was to kiss George. His lips moved with mine in perfect rhythm, and his hands held me in a way that made me never want to leave his arms.

“Get it Georgie!” I heard screamed from the group of boys across the room, recognizing Bach’s voice as the instigator of that comment.

“Fucking twats always know how to ruin a good moment don’t they?” George commented, forehead still resting on mine. I laughed, breathing heavily as my hands rested on his chest.

“Talk in your room?” I asked him. He nodded, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the back hall where their bedrooms were.

I looked around the dimly lit room, finding comfort in the four walls. Nothing had changed in the few months since I had been here last.

I kicked off my shoes, and my jacket, sitting in his bed crossing my legs together and looking at him. “I missed you.” I blurted out of the blue.

“I missed you too. I don’t know why I couldn’t just make the time you needed. I didn’t know what I would be losing by giving up that easily.” We were sharing such a vulnerable moment together.

“I think in the moment, it was just easier to say let’s move on than try and make the time work. It was equal fault here, let’s be honest.” We agreed with each other.

“I want to make time for us again.” He whispered, reaching out to rest his hand on my knee. I placed my hand over his, smiling up at him.

“Me too.” I scooted in closer, wrapping my arms around his neck and placing my legs on either side of his, sitting down on his lap. I kissed him again, this time with more feeling.

His hands instinctively found their way to my hips, pulling me impossibly closer to him.

“This is a good start.” He smirked at me, beginning to tug my shirt off of my torso.

“I couldn’t agree more.” I said pulling at the bottom of his sweater. I always forget how fit he is until the clothes are off. His toned arms in full display in front of me. I had to admit, I was a sucker for toned arms.

He grabbed me by the legs, flipping me over and hovering above me, placing himself between my hips.

“Let me show you how much I’ve missed you.” He said, unbuttoning and pulling down my jeans, leaving me nearly fully exposed in front of him. Unlike earlier, I didn’t find myself nervous. I was confident. This was my George, and I knew he would take care of me.

He began to remove the remainder of his clothing, and I followed suit. This didn’t seem like the night either of us were keen on intense foreplay. This was the rekindling of our relationship.

He leaned down to kiss me again, and I felt goosebumps forming as his hands touched my skin. He was telling me with his body that he needed me, that he wanted me.

I gasped as he pressed himself towards my entrance, my body naturally arching up to meet him there, knowing exactly what I wanted.

He pushed into me gently and I felt my head falling back in pleasure. He let out soft moans as he continued the motions of his hips, rocking back and forth in a rhythm that we had once been so accustomed to.

I had never experienced such passion in sex before George. Before this moment specifically. He knew me and my body so well it was almost electric the way we moved together. He kissed me gently as his thrusts grew more erratic, signaling he was close.

His hand reached between us, his killed fingers finding my most sensitive area and working his magic, helping me find my way to my release nearing the same time as him.

“George.” I whispered into his neck, holding onto his back with my hands.

“Come on darling,” he said, lips attaching to the sensitive skin under my ear.

I felt my release wash over me, a white hot burning pleasure that coursed through my body.

George pulled out, his hand quickly giving himself the last few pumps to send him spilling over the edge.

We laid there together, sweaty, and out of breath. George stood up to grab a wet washcloth, running it over my stomach to clean me after the nights events.

“Shower?” He propositioned. I looked over at the clock, seeing it read 12:45. I didn’t realize how long we had been here.

“Might as well, are you okay if I spend the night?” I asked him.

He laughed, pulling me closer to him in a hug. “I would honestly be offended if you didn’t.” I laughed with him, cupping his jaw as I kissed him again.

[eurydicees]

someone tell the court jester i love his smile

summary: elphaba and fiyero talk about what's true and real, and what's not. pairings: fiyero tigelaar/elphaba thropp words: 2992  warnings: none  notes: not technically a prompt but this was inspired by conversations with @napo-con-fritas and @mollrat101 about fiyero with adhd and how the outsider perception of that might impact his self-perception and thus his relationship with elphaba. this fic kind of got derailed from the original topic lol, but thanks for the inspo n i hope u enjoy!

Fiyero is talking, but he’s not really saying anything. He’s just kind of rambling about something that Elphaba isn’t quite following. It’s something about a stray cat he had seen on the street that day while he was out shopping, and how the cat reminded him of someone he knew in elementary school, which somehow led his ramblings to something about the magical fish in a well at his family’s castle in the Vinkus. 

She swears that she does usually listen to what he has to say—contrary to what seems to be the popular belief about their relationship, she does actually care about his thoughts and opinions—but something about this particular one-sided conversation is itching at the back of her mind like the final piece to a puzzle she’s been putting together for awhile now. She’s not quite sure what it is, but there’s something important that she’s missing. 

He talks with his hands, she notices. He makes both large, exaggerated gestures as he talks just as often as he fiddles and fusses with whatever he can find around him: a piece of paper that he’s methodically ripping to pieces, a ring he wears that he’s usually twisting around or tossing up and down in his palm, a pen or pencil he spins around his pointer finger. It’s really whatever he can get his hands on. 

Just generally speaking, Fiyero is constantly in motion. He’s not good at sitting still, or staying stagnant. He’s constantly bouncing his knee or tapping his fingers in basic rhythms against the table, shifting around in his seat during class, or toying with a strand of his hair that’s long enough to wrap around his finger and tug at. It feels like he’s just always a blur of movement, moving through the world at a velocity that Elphaba fears she sometimes has trouble keeping up with. 

She doesn’t always know where he’s going at that pace that he runs with, but his mind is constantly running forward. He’s always halfway to the next thought, the third step ahead, before he’s finished with the first sentence. It makes for strange leaps and connections in their conversations and in his logic sometimes, but there is—again, contrary to popular belief—always a real thread from point A to point B. 

Fiyero pauses his talking, looking at her with something unreadable on his face. “You’re not listening, are you?” 

She blinks. She didn’t realize that she had gotten so caught up in her own thoughts and her analysis of her boyfriend. She loves him, and she knows him, and she knows better than to zone out like that. His ability to sense other people’s disinterest is sharper than she had thought it to be upon first meeting—but it didn’t take long after that realization to understand that this ability is so well-honed because of how hurt and subdued he gets over that disinterest. 

“Sorry,” she mutters. She also knows better than to lie to him. He’s always been able to see right through her, somehow. “Just zoned out for a minute. Keep talking, I’m listening now.” 

Fiyero licks his lips, studying her carefully. “What’re you thinking about?” 

Elphaba shrugs, looking down at the book she had been reading before he wandered into her and Galinda’s room looking to spend time with her after being exiled by his roommate for the night. She’s curled up in her bed, a small crocheted blanket draped over her lap, while he sits at her desk chair. 

He’s doing that thing, she notes to herself. The thing where he tugs at the ring on his finger—he always wears it on a finger that seems just a little too tight for it to fit right—then seems surprised that it comes off. And he’s bouncing his knee again. It’s not anxiety, because the rest of his posture is perfectly relaxed. He just doesn’t seem to get stillness. 

She hums, trying to figure out how to put into words the things she thinks she’s maybe uncovering about him. The thing is that she’s not quite sure what it is exactly that she’s uncovered. She just knows that there’s something she’s missing about him, something that she wants to be allowed to understand. 

Elphaba loves him, is the thing. She’s not quite sure when that development really took place, but after only a few weeks of dating, she’s pretty sure that he’s her first real love. He sees her, in a way that very few people have ever wanted to try to see her.

Most importantly, he actually wants her as she is. Not the dulled, dimmed version of herself that she sometimes wants to carve herself into for the sake of social acceptance. Not the Galinda-fied version of herself that she tentatively has been experimenting with. Not the fiery, angry, defensive version of herself that she falls back upon as a safety mechanism. No, he just wants her as she is and as she wants to be. 

She wants to give the same thing back to him. She likes to think that she understands him well by now at least, but really she wants to give him the same sense of comfort that he’s given her. She wants him to feel at ease with her. 

And then it clicks. That’s what it is. He is at ease, he’s by no means on edge when he’s around her, but he’s also still always keeping up what’s an act of sorts. It’s not that he’s being fake or lying in any way, it’s more that he’s still desperately trying to mold himself into something palatable, a pill that’s easy to swallow, the kind of person that’s easy to want. 

He’s constantly trying to get her attention, trying to keep it, whether that’s by talking about things that neither of them care about or by telling prodding jokes until she laughs or asking her to rant about the latest book she’s read for hours. He’s constantly trying to keep her entertained, keep her laughing, keep her eyes on him. 

Doesn’t he know? she wonders. I’m always looking at him, whether or not he’s being bright and loud. 

It doesn’t matter if it’s easy to love him or not—which, at the end of the day, it was so easy to fall in love with him, even if she’s well aware that it’s much harder to keep him—and it doesn’t matter if he’s what she ever expected to want. It doesn’t matter if he’s keeping her entertained, not really. 

What matters is that he’s there. What matters is not if he’s easy to understand or easy to want, what matters is that being around him is like being free. Being around him gives her the freedom to be who she wants to, gives her the bravery to try to be who she actually is, at the end of the day. Being around him is like being set alight, like waking up after a long sleep to find that the world is just that much brighter now. 

What matters is that he’s trustworthy, and that he’s proved himself to be so again and again. What matters is that she cares about this boy who wormed his way into her heart despite all her defenses, despite all her crude remarks, despite all their differences. What matters is that—palatable, popular, suave, prettyboy or none of the above—she wants to stay at his side. 

She’ll do the work of loving him, she’ll put in the commitment and the effort to keep up with him. It’s not about being easy to want or easy to love. For her, love is about the act of trying. And oh, how she’ll try for him. 

Finally, she says, honestly, “I’m thinking about you.” 

He raises his eyebrows at that. He’s back to tearing tiny pieces of a paper apart, shredding it into small squares that flutter to the surface of the desk and pile up there like paper snowflakes. “What about me? I was talking about the fish of my childhood, it’s not really anything important to my psyche.” 

There it is—the way he downplays so much of what he says. Like he’s worried that she’ll think it has no value and so he’s trying to take the value away before she can do it for him. Something about that irks her a little; Elphaba has never wanted anything more than for him to trust her, with all of himself, and part of that is trusting that she cares. 

“Do you think we would have been friends if we met as kids?” she blurts out. 

It’s not really what she wanted to ask, not really what she had been thinking about, but the thought occurred to her when he asked that and she—she doesn’t really know the answer. She’s not sure if she even wants to know, but now the question is there, lingering in the air between them. 

He blinks, clearly not expecting the question. He pauses, thinking as he rips up that piece of paper. It looks like a blank sheet from a notebook, so no important notes are getting destroyed, but she really hopes it isn’t from the nice notebook. 

“I don’t know,” he says slowly. “You seem like you were pretty introverted as a kid, weren’t you? I might have been a bit too much for you. Too loud. Bright. Noisy.” 

“I suppose,” Elphaba says thoughtfully. “It would have been nice if we could have gotten along.” 

He shrugs, staring down at his pile of paper scraps. “I was…a lot. As a kid. Hard to handle.” 

“Maybe.” Elphaba watches the deft, easy movements of his hands as he sorts the scraps of paper into piles of large and medium and small sizes. “I was, too. To be fair.” 

He snorts. “What a pair we would have made. School jester and livewire introvert.” 

Elphaba rolls her eyes at the comparison, but doesn’t deny it. She does kind of walk through the world like a livewire, constantly balancing on the edge of electrifying everything around her. It was even worse as a child and she’s well aware of that. She does think it was—at least partially—justified, given how people treated her, but still. 

“School jester?” she asks, instead of arguing the point. 

“Something like that,” Fiyero says vaguely, flapping a hand in some random direction as if to dismiss the phrase. “The reputation immediately prior to ‘heartbreaker prince’ was probably ‘court fool.’”

She wants to say that that sounds kind of harsh, kind of cruel to himself, but he says it so neutrally that she doesn’t really know what to do with it. He sounds less like he’s offended by the words and more like he’s long since accepted them as gospel.

She still wants to argue with him, tell him that he’s so much more than either of those things. She wants to tell him all of the things that she sees in him, all of the brilliant, beautiful pieces to his heart that add up to so much more than an archetype. She wants to tell him that heartbreaker and court fool are impossibly small, diminishing words compared to all that she knows to be true of him. 

But for some reason, all of those words escape her. Maybe there just aren’t enough words in the language to explain all of that easily and simply. 

Instead, Elphaba asks him, “Is that why you do that?” 

“Do what?” 

She looks down at the book in her lap, running her finger along the spine in a smooth, grounding motion. He’s gone back to tearing the paper in half and the rhythmic sound of ripping paper is another grounding sense. 

“That thing you do,” Elphaba says, unhelpfully. He just stares at her, not understanding, and she sighs. He’s been receptive to this conversation so far, she might as well push her luck a little. Her words spill out faster, harsher, than she means them when she says, “That whole act. Like you don’t care about anything or want to try at anything, when I know you do. Is it because of that? Because you think that’s all you are?” 

Immediately, something in Fiyero’s expression closes off. “Don’t psychoanalyze me, Elphaba.” 

She swallows, looking up at him and standing her ground. She’s not sure it’s the right decision, but when has that really ever stopped her? “It’s just an observation.” 

He raises his eyebrows again—the only sign that he isn’t actually upset with her. “And what exacty are you observing right now?” 

“You’re never still,” Elphaba says. “Not physically, or mentally, or emotionally. You’re always moving onto the next idea or project, even if the first one doesn’t get finished. And the whole time, you’re trying to get people to keep up with you. Trying to keep them laughing.” 

“Is that really so bad of a thing?” he asks, something heavy in his voice. “To want to keep people entertained?” 

Elphaba shrugs. “Not necessarily.” 

They’re both quiet for a moment, staring at that unsorted pile of ripped up paper. His hands have stilled, but his knee is bouncing again. He hooks his foot around at the leg of the chair to still himself, as if now that she’s pointed it out, he’s too aware of it. She wonders for a moment how much of this he’s actually ever noticed about himself. 

Elphaba sighs again. She places the book on the nightstand and then neatly folds the blanket to her side so that she can stand up and cross the room to meet Fiyero at the desk chair. Slowly, she leans down to kiss him. It’s a tender, soft kiss; the kind of kiss that takes its time, because it’s in no rush to find anything more than what it is. 

Fiyero’s hands go to her waist, pulling her into his lap without breaking the kiss. When they finally pull apart, she’s sitting on top of him with one of his hands on her waist and the other on her thigh. She has her arms resting on his shoulders, hands stretched out behind his head. 

“But you’re more than that, you know.” 

Fiyero frowns, clearly having lost track of the conversation. He opens his mouth as if to ask what she means, and then it sinks in. She can see the moment that it does, the moment that it all falls into place. It settles on his expression like the paper shreds settle onto the desk. 

“And you don’t have to be the—the entertainment of the court for me to want to be around you.” 

Saying all of this is awkward, and strange, and vulnerable in a way that Elphaba is unfamiliar with. She doesn’t really know how to express her feelings like this. Between the two of them, Fiyero is the one always murmuring praise and compliments and truths that she’s still working on believing. 

You’re beautiful. So wonderful. So smart. The world in my arms. The moonlight pooling in my hands. Even if our time on this land is limited, at least I get this moment. Even if nothing else, I’m okay if I have this. Have you. So pretty. All mine, all yours. 

“You’re enough as you are,” Elphaba says, looking into his eyes, not quite sure how to read his expression at the moment. “However you want to be. I don’t need you to be the court entertainment for me to want to spend time with you. I’m not going anywhere. It’s good enough to just be around you, loud and exciting or quiet and calm.” 

She hesitates, waiting for him to say something. When he doesn’t, she chews at her lip for a moment before asking, “You do know that, right? That I’m not going anywhere if you tell a bad joke or a boring story or have a low day in general?” 

“I—” he cuts himself off, clearing his throat. 

He breaks eye contact, looking towards the desk and the pile of shreds of papers. One hand is tapping something out on her waist, a strange beat and pressure against her skin that she can’t quite place the melody of. 

“I know,” Fiyero finishes, in the way you would acknowledge something you didn’t know before that moment. Then, a little more confident, “I know.” 

She presses another slow kiss to his lips, bold in her ministrations of love as she moves her kisses to his cheek, to just below his earlobe, to his neck, to his collarbone. “It’s not a bad thing to be hard to handle. There’s very little you could do to scare me off at this point.” 

Fiyero lets out a shaky breath, pulling back slightly so that he can look at her, actually study her expression. 

Then he says the last thing she expected: “This is real, isn’t it?” 

Elphaba blinks. “I would hope so.” 

“No, I mean—” he waves a hand vaguely through the air, making some unreadable motion with it— “I mean, this is what it’s actually supposed to be like, isn’t it? I just—I lose track of things, and dates, and times. And I jump around my thoughts. And I don’t really know how to study. All things you value. But you’re here.” 

“Yeah,” Elphaba says slowly. “And I get angry and defensive, and snap at people, and sometimes throw things with my mind accidentally when I’m angry. And you’re here.” 

“I am,” Fiyero says, a smile growing over his face. “I am here.” 

Elphaba hums, and before she can reply, he’s kissing her again. He murmurs something into her mouth, something that she doesn’t quite catch, something that sounds like I love you but she can’t really be sure. They’ve never said that before. 

Still, it’s kind of a shame he didn’t say it louder. She would have said it back. But for the time being, she just returns the kiss, and keeps the thought clenched close to her heart. 

[claypigeonpottery]

I'd love to hear you expand on your thoughts about gender and deer antlers and also introduce the aspect of caribou antlers to the conversation. Both males and females have antlers but the males drop them in the winter because of the weight while the females keep theirs until the new set pushes the old set out.

I have a lot of thoughts and none of them really go anywhere but I’m happy to expand

it’s funny, I was thinking about caribou while I was making this brown clay deer-person. I didn’t want the antler to read as caribou, it was more just turning thoughts around in my head

I imagine if we had antlers, culturally it would be considered masculine (likely even for those—like caribou—where everyone can grow antlers and shed them at different times).

it made me think about gender being seasonal, with the growing and shedding of antlers.

it made me think about how tender and sensitive antlers are when they first grow in, covered in velvet. is it like menstruation, a gender-specific thing that’s painful or uncomfortable for awhile?

it made me think about losing an antler accidentally, or removing them. or only removing one. or just cutting off a few tines. what would it signify? how would it feel?

do queer deer (lol) notice each other because of how their antlers look, recognize each other as queer?

would a doe feel relieved when it’s time to shed her antlers? would she dread growing new ones? would a buck, any buck, feel dysphoric, feel a loss, when he sheds his?

I don’t know, I’ve just been having the gender recently. so obviously I had to pass that feeling on to my little sculptural creatures

[moronkombat]

can you write headcannons on marriage proposals from the Lin Kuei trio? How nervous do you think they would be? Lol

Kuai Liang:

He knew for awhile now that he has wanted to marry, to have you and him be intertwined in the most sacred of promises

The devotion carried for you has climbed steady and smooth and how he wishes to seal it together but he wants it to be at the right time

Problem with that is he unsure when that special time is. Should it be where you two first met? Should it be when the two of you have your morning conversations?

His mind spins and spins about the hows and wheres. He is not too concerned with your answer. The love that flows through the two of you thick and heavy

The nerves that shake his spine are how to make the proposal memorable and meaningful. How can it possibly convey all this love for you?

This the primary reason why it take him quite a bit of time to offer his life to you. The idea has been there, ruminating and ruminating but his execution forever changing

Kuai Liang would settle for somewhere that is known just to you and him. A private place that you two escape to when you only wish to know each other and forget about the entire world

The proposal is done without rings or bands of gold. He takes you hands into his before slowly your fingers spread apart to match and rest against his

A smile so soft his upon him and he speaks of his love for you, how much you mean to him and how long he has wanted to say this

He says to you then "I would be a lucky man if you were to marry me" and your future together is now set

Tomas:

His thoughts of marrying you have been shared with his brothers as Tomas wants them to know his upcoming intentions along with hoping to find some encouragement

Kuai Liang affirms his decision, tell Tomas that he would be a good husband and that the two of you would be happy together. Bi-Han tells him "It sounds like your mind is already set. You don't need our opinions. Go and do it"

He wants to just go and do it as Bi-Han said but there are nerves tingling all throughout him. What if you say no? What if this is too much? Tomas does not wish to suffocate you

So then why has he already bought the ring? It a simple wedding band, one he purchased out of tradition. There are scattered memories of his mother's wedding ring but the image of it is unclear

Tomas brings the ring with him wherever he goes, taking time to gaze upon it during moments of free time. Should he ask? Should he not?

It is an accident that you happened upon the ring. You catch him, his back turned to you and hunched over, and you figure he must be looking upon something

You ask him to show you but he is quick, too quick to say it is nothing and so you persist and as you try to see, peering over him and pulling at him playfully, the ring is dropped

It is you hand that picks it up despite his attempt to stop you and when you look at the ring, you know what it is and slowly you place it in his palm

Then slowly, you hold you your hand to him, your ring finger elevated slightly and Tomas smiles with a small and sheepish nod before sliding it on your finger

Bi-Han:

Tells no one of his plans to marry you, keeping it exceptionally obscured. Though there have already been rumors about it

You have taught him how to love pure and true. You are at his thoughts when he awakes and rests. You mean absolutely everything to him and so he wants to bind your souls together

Problem is he is quite at a loss of how to go about such a task. Does he ask you directly? Does he plan something?

A full on occasion seems...gaudy. Would it not take away from the moment? Yet to merely ask is...dull?

And what of your answer? Is this what you truly want or is he selfish as so many of called him before?

Bi-Han isn't sure and that frustrates him, irritates him. He tries to drop hints to gauge your feelings towards marriage but they often come out as awkward and he is getting nowhere

He'll toss and turn obsessing over this idea of matrimony and suddenly he is beginning to lose sleep over it and it doesn't go unnoticed

Bi-Han is considerably more irritable around his subordinates but never with you but you can't help but take notice in his stress

Over the course of many months, Bi-Han juggles the idea of prosing to you. He looks quite scary when he thinks about his choices. Brows knit close together, eyes narrowed and foot tapping incessantly

He can take no more of this and so he approaches you when you in the middle of a task. He says your name, takes in a deep breath and tells you "I am Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei and it is my duty to lead but...I am also a man. A man who wants you by his side for the rest of my days and so I ask you will you marry me?"

You're stunned, shocked and whatever you had been holding in your hand has gone dropped to the floor. Once the shock has left you smile to him and tell him "Okay"

[simsinlowspace]

Autumn Color Curtains - 4t2 Popped Color Curtain Recolors in Autumn Valley

It's been awhile since I've recolored anything, so I took a little break from converting to make some new curtain colors.

I wanted these curtains in more colors, and I haven't made any curtains in Autumn Valley colors (plus it's a smaller palette and I need to get ready for work soon lol). There are 20 recolors total:

A numbered swatch is included so you can easily keep just what you like. I'll be sharing more recolors of these in the near future!

Meshes are NOT included; you can snag them here: 4t2 Popped Color Curtain Conversion

DOWNLOAD (SFS) Recolors are ~3.75MB

Lots of love, Spacey

[rraaarr]

Crowley misunderstood Nina and Maggie

Im sure this has been discussed, but I haven't seen it, though to be fair, I dropped off the site for a few months, but hey I'm back on my bullshit lol.

I think perhaps the open honesty and romanticism of Crowley's confession distracts us from the fact that Crowley doesnt actually take Nina and Maggies advice. Nina and Maggie's advice was to Talk, as in to discuss. And Crowley, honestly love them, but they didn't open with a Discussion. They opened with a Confession. They even say they should do all the talking.

And of course, Aziraphale makes the same mistake.

The thing is they Don't DISCUSS, Neither of them ever tries to, they're kind of like....pitching romantic ideas at each other as opposed to either of them doing anything that Maggie and Nina suggested (which Aziraphale didn't hear, but still)

Maggie and Nina suggested having a conversation to see where the other person is at. Like in their example conversation, Maggie and Nina discover that now is Not a good time for Nina to be in a relationship and that Nina can't expect Maggie to wait for her, but Maggie assures she will.

Thing is while the future for the couple of Maggie and Nina looks promising, They Don't End Up Together.

And Both Crowley and Aziraphale WANT to end up together, but they have No idea where the other one is at emotionally. They're making guesses based on the fact that they know each other so fantastically well. But Neither of them ever actually Even Tries to have a conversation to see what the other one wants from their relationship, what they want the future to look like what their concerns and hopes are. They just....sort of advertise a commercial of their own personal vision of a romantic future at each other and then they both go all Pikachu face and take it personally when the other doesn't accept.

(Obviously there are other aspects to the iverall analysis of this scene/their characters, I just wanted to point out this one aspect that has been on my mind for awhile)

[the-record]

SKINNY DIPPING

SUMMARY: ellie, your perfect high school girlfriend, is back in town after college. what’s one date?

PAIRING: modern!ellie williams x reader

WARNINGS: n/a

A/N: i had an idea!!! pls enjoy while i finish the other 3 ellie fics lol

‘ WE’VE BEEN SWIMMIN’ ON THE EDGE OF A CLIFF ’

“oat milk latte for ellie.” your head shoots up hearing the order called off. it couldn’t possibly be her.

your staring at her when she turns around and makes eye contact. a smile forms on her face and she makes her way over to the table you’re at. “hey.”

“hi.” she points at the seat, you nod and she sits down. her eyes flicker away to not fall, but she brings them back to yours instantly. “how are you?”

“good.” she clears her throat, a comfortable smile on her face. “how are you? how’s your family?”

you roll your eyes and let yourself get comfortable. “theyre fine. my mom asked about you the other day.”

she leans back into her chair, one hand on her cup and the other on her thigh. “she did always love me more.” ellie teases. you kick her shin lightly and she hisses in pain.

your jaw drops. “oh stop, that did not hurt!” you watch the pout form on her face and kick her again, a little harder. you hear her whisper something as she grabs her leg. “that, maybe.” she gently kicks you back in retaliation. “so, what are you doing back here?”

she sips her latte before answering. “well i finished school, figured id see who wanted to hire me here before i went looking elsewhere.” you nod as she talks, taking all of her in. your ellie. “what about you? what’s like been like without me?” you know shes teasing but something inside you missed her.

“sunshine, smiles, and rainbows!” you close your laptop and give her your whole attention. “it’s been okay here, weird not seeing you and dina everyday.” she nods in agreement. “i’ve got an internship now, and a job, but not a career yet.”

talking with ellie is easy, it always has been. if she hadn’t gone away for college you might still be together. you take the time to learn everything new. you study the new freckles and a scar on her cheek. her voice is something you could listen to for years and never bore of.

“this was really nice.” ellie says as you pack your bag and she finishes her drink. “is there a chance we could do it again? maybe over dinner?” she leans forward on the table as she asks. “at miller’s?” the name of the restaurant makes you sigh.

you shake your head with a smile. “i dont know, sounds a bit… nostalgic, doesn’t it?” she shrugs and plays with the fingers on one of your hands.

“maybe. but lets do it anyways. it’ll be fun.” those green eyes would be the death of you.

the conversation at dinner came easy, ellie guiding you. it was nice to be back with her, in your own world in the quiet restaurant.

“have you dated anyone?” ellie asks, not exactly wanting to know.

you scoff as you take a sip from your glass. “not really. a couple flings but, nothing serious.” you say as you set down the glass. “you? im sure there were plenty of girls for you in santa barbara.”

“i dated a girl for awhile.” she smiles as you tense up and avoid her face. “broke up with her though.”

you hum. “and why’s that.”

“because she wasn’t you.”

you let out a breath you didnt know you were holding as a smile fights its way on your face. “ellie…” she takes your hand.

“let’s get out of here.” her eyes stare into your soul, convincing you silently.

the smile breaks free and you nod. “okay.”

you pay more attention to ellie than the roads as she drives. studying her profile, the lips you’d missed these past for years.

“take a picture, it’ll last longer.” your cheeks burn as ellie glances at you but you dont dare look away. its a few more moments before she slows and parks.

you glance around as you unbuckle and notice a familiar house. “dina’s place? weird place for a date.” she rolls her eyes and jumps out, running to get your door. “still quite a gentleman i see.”

“only for you babe.” she takes for you and leads you towards the house, but turns to the backyard rather than the door. you go to protest but she beats you to it. “don’t. just trust me.” she pulls you through the tall gate and into the backyard.

“i was gonna propose the beach, but then i remembered we are in jackson.” she smiled and pulled her top off.

you laugh. “ellie, what the hell are we doing here?”

ellie looks at you like it’s obvious. “we’re here to swim babe, duh?” shes stripping out of her pants now and you grab her arms to stop her.

“you have to be joking!” but she just shakes her head and jumps in, only her bra and underwear on. “i’m not getting in.”

she swims to the edge and reaches for your hands, which you mistakenly give her. “guess i’ll have to pull you in.”

you yell for her to wait but she’s already going, pushing back from the wall and pulling you with her. you pull her close as you come up to the surface.

“ellie!” she laughs and holds you in her arms. “i hate you.”

she shakes her head. “no you don’t.”

“no, i don’t.” its quiet, only the sounds of the water as you stand with her. “kiss me.”

who’s she to say no to that?

“ellie? is that you? angel? what the fuck!”

‘ I’M RESISTANT BUT GOING DOWN WITH THE SHIP ’

[crest-of-gautier]

how is it that i finished reload three months ago but it feels like a lifetime ago... ("some" thoughts about reload under the cut... spoilers obv)

reload is like a mixed bag for me. there's aspects of it that i hold near and dear to my heart (ryoji mochizuki my beloved), while some parts of reload... i'm kind of... "eh... whatever" about.

i think my feelings ultimately boils down to the fact that fes and reload are two very distinct experiences. the differences between them feels most obvious to me with the gameplay changes, and added social events (dorm activities + linked episodes).

because these two games curate a different experience, i feel awkward when i'm confronted with the question of, "what version should i play?" to me, the question kind of has the undertone of, "what is the definitive version of persona 3?"

even though reload is arguably the most convenient and accessible version of p3, i feel that when i recommend it... i internally have a bunch of asterisks that come with it. this hesitance mostly comes from my opinion that FES has more effective storytelling for the messages that P3 wants to convey.

FES's gameplay mechanics adds to minato's characterization in ways that reload doesn't. it's stuff like the tiredness system, and how it adds to the idea that death literally stole minato's chance to live life normally without complications. it's the way minato can adapt to any of the weapon types of the other party members. it's the way that the party orders/command system was designed specifically for FES and SEES really feels like co-workers for a good chunk. you don't really feel that in reload as much.

there's also some things about FES's visuals that feel better (to me). the palette of the dorms feels more somber and it enhances the atmosphere. and the half body portraits, oh, the characterization of it all that comes from body language (ryoji mochizuki you will always be famous to me). you don't quite get that when you only have a bustshot to work with.

i do realize that me expressing my grievances with missing these things from FES can be interpreted as "oh, so you don't like reload?" and i want to emphasize that this is not the case at all. i think that fes and reload are both valuable experiences, just for completely different reasons. (the same goes for portable as well, it very much has it's merits too!)

despite preferring FES' storytelling over reload's, i am hesitant to recommend it. even though the game mechanics can add to the story, they are also dated and i can see how this can turn people away. do i love how arduous the climb up tartarus feels in FES? yes. i really feel immersed in the minato-ism. but would someone else like it? no. and that's fine too.

this is where reload feels "better" than fes to me: updating it to modern gameplay standards makes it easier for players to enter a flow state. i do feel that the way they went about it did undermine some of the Vibes of the Climb™ (see my talk about the great clock on main).

theurgy is also another one of the mechanics that i'm a bit 🤔 about. i like looking at the characteristics that build the person's gauge (i especially LOVE LOVE how yukari's gauge builds), it's fun for characterization! and the visuals themselves are super appealing and fun to watch. junpei's 2nd theurgy, blaze of life, is one of my favorites because i really love how it represents his bond with chidori.

however i also feel that theurgy is... very overtuned. like, what do you mean i'm sweeping nyx avatar off her feet, i am facing death head on in the eyes and you're telling me she's a cakewalk? (this also applies to some of the other bosses.) of course you can just opt to... not use theurgy, but it feels weird for fights to be framed as "tough and unbeatable" within the narrative only to get through them with relative ease... (ludonarrative dissonance moment)

it feels really funny to write all of this out because i'm sitting here like, "you know, i don't think no one will care the way i do 😂" and that's fine, to be honest! i find it fun to think about how changes to a story can enhance or detract from the overall experience.

i do feel like i could elaborate on the story additions/removals and how some of it made me go "huh" and "whuh" but. i won't. because this post is long as is. but maybe another day. (but know that i am crying about the things they removed for aigis' storyline)

now that i'm done airing out my grievances with the gameplay, i want to talk about the things i liked about reload. even though some things had me go 🤨, i did sincerely have a fun time playing it, and i want to celebrate those things!

for one thing, the social links being voiced really added to the experience. i really, really felt myself immersed in the storylines of minato's classmates social links in ways that i didn't when i played FES. i just really loved seeing how charaters like yuko and keisuke would speak... and everyone's casting felt on point, to me!

reload is also very visually stunning. guy who doesn't play the game because they're too busy getting lost in minato's eyes. it's me. i'm guy. i really loved the animated cutscenes. it's fun seeing minato in a new coat of paint. he's so near and dear to me and seeing him in HD got me crying in the club. some things fell short (why does nyx avatar's face feel so low res...) but LIKE overall i was like, a yippee trail seeing minato interact with port island. i love seeing him walk around.

the story addition i liked the most (oh my god this is going to be such a surprise) (it's not). the ryoji episodes were everything i imagined ryoji to be. you can tell that sogabe worked on reload. i love how aleks le brought him to life. the music box drives me crazy. i love how special ryoji and minato's bond is and seeing them be like, explicitly, textually written the way they were? earth shattering, for me. they made new year's eve even more (oh no i've been flushed down the feelings lane). how the fuck did they do that!!!

i also still really love most of the ENG VA cast and what they brought to the table. allegra clark's performance as mitsuru was especially standout to me... so was zeno robinson as junpei... but GOD!!! SEES felt so lived in. i love the passion the new VAs had for the game and it felt evident to me in their performance.

and that's my reload thoughts :) i think it's nice that reload exists even if some things about it disappointed me. i do wish i didn't have a bunch of caveats when talking about it, but like... i find it very fun to dissect my feelings on it??? given that reload had some things that didn't land for me, it makes it all the more important to me to thank reload for what (i felt) it did well, and celebrate those parts of it. p3 is very near and dear to my heart and i will always cherish the bits that felt resonant with me.

speaking of which, i do think it's nice that reload has been an entry way for people to get into persona... even though i haven't been engaging with the community as much as i used to, i do like that there's been more fanwork to look at... even if not all of it is my cup of tea...! it makes me happy that there's a resurgence of ryomina, but also the entire cast is... so shapely. i cherish them dearly and seeing that others also like them as much as i do makes me really, really happy!

i hope p3 can continue to make others happy the way it made me happy! the message will stick with me for a lifetime, methinks.

oh that's a lot of gigabytes.

[vidavalor]

Why do you think Crowley didn't just get another apartment?

Hi! Thanks for the ask. I have French buttercream chocolate cake tonight. I know, right? It's amazing. *cuts you a slice*

To answer your question, I think we have to look at the whole thing with where Crowley parks The Bentley and when (in both seasons) and, also, the scenes that emphasize Crowley and Aziraphale avoiding being seen together anywhere in the mornings and what all this has to do with what he says is his living situation in S2.

Meta on Crowley "living in his car" in S2 under the cut.

For Crowley and Aziraphale, what has always been what *absolutely cannot happen* is Heaven/Hell figuring out that Crowley will stay in the bookshop until very, very late into the evening, as that is the one thing they'd have trouble justifying. If Crowley parked The Bentley in front of the bookshop in the afternoon/evening and it was still there at 7am the next morning, it would send a message to anyone watching that their relationship isn't just intelligence business, it's not just friendship...and it's not even really just sex. If Heaven/Hell saw The Bentley outside the bookshop all night often enough, they would assume that Crowley and Aziraphale are in a romantic relationship and this is the one thing that Crowley and Aziraphale do not want them to figure out. They can hatch a wild plan if they get caught to justify any of the rest of it and maybe get away with it but there's no way out if they get caught out being in love when they're supposed to be sworn enemies... so, if they want to spend time alone together in the privacy of the bookshop, how do they work around the problem of potentially being noticed? The show actually showed us subtly in S1 before a little more overtly in S2.

When Crowley is going to come over for awhile-- and especially when it's going to mean that he's there into the evening-- he doesn't park The Bentley in front of the bookshop. He parks it in the vicinity but not too close-- around where it was when Aziraphale called him in 2.01. Two or so minutes' drive out, on a side street. (A two minute drive is a 15 or so minute walk so not that far but a bit away.) If he's coming to the shop alone, he'll probably use the side entrance to the bookshop but if he's been out with Aziraphale-- like he was in their 'fuck everything, the world is ending' lunch at The Ritz in 2008-- they'll walk back to the bookshop. If anyone notices Crowley entering it, it'll be during the day, right? While not ideal, it's innocuous enough. Aziraphale's bookshop is theoretically a business and is also an angelic embassy and Aziraphale could say that he's trying to turn Crowley to the light and make him into an informant if they were caught. Conversely, it couldn't hurt Crowley-- whose job, like Aziraphale's, is to spy on his counterpart-- to seem like he's gaming the corruptible angel and getting intel to further the demonic goals of Hell so he could say he's luring the angel to trusting him. Being in the bookshop during the day, during what are (for normal businesses lol) business hours, when the business is also an embassy, is one thing. It's the evening that's the problem for them. At that time of day, the bookshop is nothing but Aziraphale's residence and Crowley's presence during those hours becomes much riskier. So, how to get around that?

Here's them walking back to the bookshop from wherever Crowley's parked The Bentley on a side street after lunch in 2008/Eleven Years Ago in S1:

During lunch in 2008, they already planned for Crowley to come back to the bookshop with Aziraphale and since there's no plan for him to leave in any hurry, Crowley is already not parked in front of the bookshop so no one can recognize his car there late at night. This is practiced between them; they've been doing it for awhile by this point. They still are in S2, when we have several scenes of Crowley in The Bentley parked on a side street near the bookshop.

Since Crowley can't be seen then leaving the bookshop once the sun is up or it'd defeat the purpose of the car not being parked in front of it, whenever he comes over, he leaves the bookshop through the side door at some ungodly pre-dawn hour, walks to his car a few streets over (apparating into it would be suspicious to anyone who might have found it so he usually walks, looking like he was just out late causing demonic trouble), and then, in the past, would drive back to his apartment in Mayfair. That way, when the sun came up, anyone who might be watching his place would see The Bentley parked in front of it. Didn't see Crowley leave the bookshop from the afternoon? You must have missed him in a crowd on the sidewalk somewhere because there's his gorgeous, old, very recognizable car, parked in front of his place in Mayfair, gleaming in that early morning sun.

No one was ever the wiser to the fact that on some of these nights, Crowley was not home in his apartment or out raising hell all night but was actually in the bookshop nearly until dawn.

Is it kind of miserable for Crowley to have to leave every time in the middle of the night and for him and Aziraphale to never really know what it's like to wake up together? To never get to have breakfast and mornings together? Of course. But it keeps them safe so they deal with it. As a result, though, they have a thing about mornings.

In 1.01, when Crowley calls Aziraphale in the middle of the night and they both have separately learned of Armageddon, he tells Aziraphale that they "need to talk" and then they both, without further discussion, are at their bench in St. James' Park the next day. During their talk, they decide to go to lunch and go directly there, which means that they met up sometime around 11am-12pm. So even Crowley calling in the middle of the night and setting up the meeting in the park with their code phrase means that the time of the meeting is always predetermined to be at least 11am, no matter what they need to discuss. Even after learning of Armageddon beginning, they waited until almost lunch the next day to meet up and talk about it because they never want to be seen in public together in the earlier mornings. They're afraid of someone seeing them going for a walk or getting a coffee together before midday and thinking they spent the previous night together. Crowley is always gone from the bookshop before the sun starts to come up and they never meet before 11am in an effort to keep anyone from figuring out that they are often in the bookshop-- and Aziraphale's bed-- together through the early morning hours.

Which tends to make this, their first time getting breakfast even if Crowley knew it wasn't really that because Aziraphale's "problem voice" was on, even more hilarious...

Crowley's like I left you blissed out and half-asleep in your bed *four hours ago*, angel... how on Earth is there a 'naked man friend' in your bookshop right now? He knows that Shax told him there's something going on and that Aziraphale called with a problem but this is the only time of day they usually spend apart and they always do so if Aziraphale is going to cheat on him-- which he's not lol-- this is when he would and based on the fact that Aziraphale panics at Crowley thinking there's another guy in the bookshop and based on Crowley's wtf? face at hearing there is, these two aren't sleeping with anyone else anymore and have a monogamous thing, even if they probably sort of forgot to have a discussion about it. Crowley can tell from Aziraphale's reaction that there's some misunderstanding here and then just gets bemused about it but also about ready to kill whatever guy, naked or not, is causing Aziraphale problems, only to find out that it's, well, the guy who tried to kill them.

In 2.01, when Gabriel makes his rather noticeable arrival on Aziraphale's doorstep, it is the mid-part of the morning-- probably somewhere around 9am as Maggie was just getting ready to open her store for the day, Nina was still busy but her more immediate pre-work coffee rush seemed to be winding down, and Aziraphale was having his breakfast tea on yet another day that his shop was not opening lol. The most major character to miss Gabriel's arrival is, of course, Crowley. Crowley's meeting with Shax is just before/happening in tandem with Aziraphale at Maggie's shop and then Gabriel's arrival and actually opens the storyline in the present in S2. The point is that Crowley misses Gabriel's arrival because he is not in the bookshop in the early mornings, which is then something that is heavily emphasized through Crowley and Aziraphale's first scene of the season via Nina to not just be about this particular early morning but all mornings.

When Aziraphale calls Crowley and has him meet him in Give Me Coffee, Nina has never met Crowley before. Give Me Coffee is fifteen steps across the street from the bookshop and sells coffee, tea and baked goods and Nina doesn't know Crowley. Nina has been there running it since post-S1. She knows Aziraphale though and, until the morning of 2.01, she thought the old bookseller a confirmed bachelor. In the span of 20 minutes, he gets a naked man possible deliveroo strippergram on his doorstep in front of the whole neighborhood and then then this other hot-- and surprisingly clothed-- Ginger Goth guy shows up to meet him for coffee. Nina's best guess for why the bookseller and his Crowley have never come across the street to her shop before and seem like they've literally never gotten breakfast together while they also "go way back" and have chemistry and affection for one another for days is that they're having an affair. Nina correctly guesses that their relationship is a secret and applies the most logical presumption that a human without knowledge of Heaven/Hell could-- that it's infidelity, not that they could be murdered if they were found out-- because these two live in London Soho in the year 2023 but are still afraid of being found out.

So, all of this shows how there's no Crowley in the bookshop in the morning. Neither of them have ever slipped across the street to bring back coffee and croissants for two at 7am or gone over to Nina's together. Aziraphale has been to Give Me Coffee alone before. Crowley and The Bentley are always nowhere to be found near the bookshop at this hour, which is how Crowley missed Gabriel's arrival.

So what does this all have to do with why Crowley doesn't just get a new apartment ahead of S2?

When Hell showed up in the form of Shax to reclaim the place in Mayfair in which Crowley was living, it really left Crowley with two choices. He wasn't about to tell Aziraphale because Aziraphale would feel like he had to ask him to move in with him for real and it was too dangerous. They can't have that so why bring it up and hurt them more? The two choices Crowley felt he had were to either get a new apartment or to just keep on as he's been living because the truth is... he hadn't been home to Mayfair that much lately anyway.

Before, Crowley and Aziraphale would try to go some amount of time between seeing each other but after S1, maybe with some exceptions around the Covid lockdowns but definitely not since they were lifted, they just stopped bothering that much. They were already together on borrowed time with no idea how much time they had until Armageddon: Round Two would start and they just wanted to be together so they kept up their whole routine of Crowley out before dawn and no mornings but Crowley had been more or less living in the bookshop for awhile ahead of S2.

As Aziraphale says here:

Meaning: they live together. Crowley's there all the time. Aziraphale does not mind. It's been months of Crowley in the bookshop every night. Aziraphale loves it. He hates him having to leave in the middle of the night as he always does but they've settled into a little domestic thing the best they can with the situation they have. The line is also laden with innuendo, suggesting they're not always just up talking and listening to old records until 4am but are regularly, ya know, setting off some alarm bells in Heaven together. (Couple Aziraphale's innuendo in the "plenty of use" scene with why Crowley says Muriel needs to leave the bookshop when he says he wants to take Aziraphale to breakfast at The Ritz. "We need a little 'us time'" meant all amnesiac angels and assorted representatives of Heaven and Hell need to get the Someplace out of this bookshop right now so I can finally watch that angel eat some pancakes and then take him to bed in our bed without worrying about someone needing a hot chocolate in the middle of the night.)

Their level of domesticity is actually shown to be pretty cute with this bit:

This is the most living together thing ever because it's saying that Crowley is just frequently in the bookshop while Aziraphale is out now. He's not even just there to see him but he spends time there alone while Aziraphale goes to the bank for change for the four books he sells a month and to his appointment with his barber and all his other little errands. You know Crowley likes waiting inside because he likes having a little time alone in a place where he's safe and won't be disturbed but also really the whole little domestic bliss of Aziraphale coming back and being all "Crowley? There you are" and showing him what he got at the shops and such. It's the most normal married thing imaginable and feels like they really live together and Crowley loves every minute of it.

So Hell taking his place in Mayfair back leaves Crowley with two options because it's still too risky for him and Aziraphale to just full on live together entirely: he can get a new apartment or he can basically just keep living with Aziraphale for most of the day and then spend the mornings in The Bentley/out.

If he gets a new apartment, he'd have to actually go there sometimes. He'd have to be seen moving his stuff into it and he'd have to get a new bed and he'd have to spend nights there sometimes to prove he's living there. It couldn't be suspiciously close to Aziraphale's place, so now he's got to drive more in the early morning hours. He's been spending so much time with Aziraphale, the thought of sleeping alone and spending the evenings alone again, even for a few nights now and then, is depressing. It was miserable before and now he can't to back to it again and he doesn't think Aziraphale would want to, either. He also doesn't exactly know how to tell him he'd have to be away some nights again without hurting him. They've both been alone more often than not for most of their existences and Crowley can't do it anymore. There's also, though, that getting another apartment also doesn't do much to help keep Heaven & Hell from thinking he and Aziraphale are involved... but pretending he's living in his car just might.

The only being of Heaven or Hell still talking to either him or Aziraphale is Shax and Crowley has to keep meeting up with her to get information on what's going on there and try to get a sense of how much time he and Aziraphale might have before Round Two. If he tells Shax that he's living in his car, then it makes him look less close to Aziraphale. Everyone knows Aziraphale has a private residence upstairs in the bookshop and that, if he and Crowley were really close, he'd have offered for Crowley to stay with him if he lost his apartment... so what if Crowley can make Heaven & Hell think they aren't that close, they just teamed up to stop Armageddon? He's even homeless now and the angel won't give him a place to stay. He tells Shax to tell Hell's Finance Office to send his bills to his car and Shax actually bought it and said she tried. Shax has been reporting back to Hell that Crowley is living in his car, which is what Crowley wanted her to think was the case.

Let Hell think they've won over him and taken his place and left him living in his car on a side street, let Shax keep meeting him in the early morning hours in his car on that side street... so that none of them figure out that he's actually living in the bookshop with Aziraphale.

In the meantime, no new apartment means no more nights away from Aziraphale. No commute back to it after picking up The Bentley on the side street means more time he can be with Aziraphale before he has to slip away in the early morning. He can just keep going from the bookshop to his car a few streets away each morning like he has been and that's the funniest part of it to him. Hell thinks they left him homeless and abandoned him and, really, they just made it easier for him to hide from them the fact that he's living with the angel he loves. All he has to do is bullshit them and he's good at that.

Crowley talking about living in his car is basically this in attitude, on steroids:

His pre-S2 conversations with Shax were like... Fuck, Shax, the crick in my neck from *sleeping in my car*... if Hell's Finance Office wants to find me, they can send the bills *to my car*... Bastard angel owns half of Soho, probably why I can't find a place... tell Lord Beezlebub if they're looking for me, they can go fuck themselves but if they absolutely have to contact me, they can find me *in my car*...

...and three hours or so earlier from every one of those conversations, Crowley was actually curled up in bed with Aziraphale in the bookshop.

[artstatues]

we're not dating. (or are we?) - g.h x l.k

wc : 592

pairings : grayson hawthorne x lyra kane, from the grandest game.

synopsis : grayson's to help lyra find out what happened to her father, when lyra needed to grab her journal at home, but apparently her family was inside.

warnings : nothing lol.

a/n : guess whos back!! back again!! i dont really like this that much but im glad i made an effort to write again

taglist : @flowers-for-em @midiosaamor @alwaysthefangirl @starrynightsxo @off-to-the-r4ces

@pockyyasii @shuhuaspookie @sophiesonlinediary @kozumesphone @reminiscentreader

@never-enough-novels

grayson hawthorne had just landed in lyra’s hometown. he had promised her during the game. that he’d help her once this was all over, help her truly uncover what had happened to her father. the note she found at the game was still tucked into her journal. thomas, thomas, tommaso, tomas. her phone buzzed. grayson. 

where do you want to meet? - gray, 4.38 pm.

my house, my journal is still inside, im also on the way there.

[location attached] - lyra, 4.40 pm.

👍🏻 - gray, 4.41 pm

grayson was there earlier than the house-owner herself. grayson was about to ring lyra right when her motorcycle came to a stop in front of him. his pose made it look like he’d been waiting for long enough. “sorry, traffic.” lyra shortly apologized while taking off her helmet. “i don't think my parents are home, you should wait inside while i get my journal.” lyra explained quickly before unlocking the door, gesturing gray to enter. to both their surprises, her brother and mom sat at the dining table. “shit.” lyra muttered quietly enough. grayson smirked at her panic. “lee lee! whos that?” her brother jumped out of his seat, quickly running towards her. “uh, well he’s my–” lyra’s excuse was cut short.

“boyfriend. lyra’s boyfriend.” he shot a smirk towards lyra, who had her mouth agape. grayson made her way towards lyra’s mom. “hello, miss kane. lyra was telling me about you, now i do get how lyra is immeasurably stunning” bullshit. it was all bullshit in lyra’s eyes, but in grayson’s, he meant it all. lyra was indeed stunning. “no need to flatter me dear, come, sit down,” lyra’s mom smiled at grayson. for all lyra knew, he could’ve been an actor with these skills. lyra’s brother eventually sat back down, dragging lyra to do the same. “i honestly didn’t expect this, darling.” lyra’s mom laughed, the thought of her daughter getting herself a boyfriend was flattering, yet nearly impossible. “i didn’t either, miss kane.” grayson let loose, just a little bit. lyra scoffed. “we really need to get going mom-” lyra tried to excuse herself and her ‘boyfriend’ which failed, horribly. “doesn’t hurt to stay awhile, right-? sorry i haven’t quite caught your name.” her mother smiled. “grayson, miss kane,” he shot one of his stupid grins, the type of grin that could convince you to rob a bank for him. “but yes, miss kane, it can’t hurt staying for bit, isn’t that so, love?” the question was aimed towards lyra. but she couldn’t tell. he called her love. grayson hawthorne had just called her love. “i- oh, yes, fine. it won’t hurt.” lyra forced a smile, but her mother knew all too well. “if you two must, though, then go on” her mother relented. “thanks mom,” lyra took the chance to get up and sprint to her room upstairs, quickly grabbing her journal from her nightstand. she quickly made her way downstairs, to find grayson and her mom conversing. about what? she couldn’t find 2 fucks. “got what you need, love?” grayson called her love. again. her head was disgustingly spiraling. “yup, we’ll be on our way, thanks mom” lyra gave a small peck on her mom’s cheek before bolting out the door, grayson calmly following behind, but not before waving to lyra’s little brother. “you are the most insufferable asshole that i’ve ever had to deal with.” lyra spat when they got further from her house. “but im a useful asshole.” grayson shrugged before trying to haul a cab.

[moesthoughts]

Long distance relationship with Jacob

a long distance relationship

jacob custos x gen neu!reader

warnings . . . fluff, some relationship issues but you both make up, suggestive themes

pre long distance :

You both met in the summer while working as camp councilors at Hackett’s Quarry. (obviously) Overtime your friendship changed into a “summer fling”, you practically couldn’t keep your hands off of him.

Though, with the end of summer camp approaching. You knew you would eventually need to sit down and talk about what was truly going on between you both. Would you establish a relationship, or would you leave it behind once camp was over?

You knew that you fell in love with Jacob, even if you both only knew each other for a few months. He was funny, sweet, really good at kissing, and he was smoking hot.

One issue: Did he feel the same about you? He seemed like he did, the only way to find out was to talk about it.

So you braced yourself for a possible heart break and sat him down, confessing to him what’s been on your mind.

At first he was confused, weren’t you guys already together? At least that’s what he thought. Though as you spoke, he realized he should’ve officially established things awhile ago.

Of course Jacob wanted to stay with you, he was in love with everything about you. From your personality, to your looks. He couldn’t find a flaw even if he tried to.

Only issue was, you both were going to schools 5 states away from each other. That was when you both agreed long distance would have to do. I mean, you both went out of your way to have this conversation for a reason.

long distance :

There isn’t a time where Jacob isn’t texting you. His texts ranging from complaining about people and classes to asking how your day is to plain flirting.

“might go insane if this teacher keeps yapping all i can focus on is his bald head lol”

“hey i miss u im gonna try to come visit sometime”

“you look sooo fine in ur insta post can’t wait till i see u again”

You swear he hasn’t heard of a comma, it’s endearing that he’s always making an effort to reach out to you though. You always make an effort to respond to him, even if you’re busy in class.

Get ready to receive shirtless photos, mirror pictures, post work out photos, etc. You have to hide your phone everytime you get a snap from him or see that he sent you a picture over text.

Even though nudes aren’t ideal, you both share them once and awhile. Sure it’s hot, but you both would rather see each other fully in person and not over facetime or in photos.

Let’s be for real, you both are broke college students. Jacob curses himself for not being able to get you gifts all the time but he makes that up by spending quality time with you, there will always be a facetime call from him.

You both can be caught up in different things though, so texts will subside as well.

Long distance is hard, especially if it’s a relationship and there’s needed communication. You both fight time to time. You, being frustrated that Jacob with “I’m always right” attitude. And Jacob, being ignorant to the problem itself.

You both have your flaws, from that one awful night back at Hackett’s Quarry you both saw each other under high stress. It wasn’t pretty. To say you weren’t surprised that he was acting this way in a fight was an understatement.

You love him, he loves you. Couples have disagreements, and each time you both fight one of you caves in and apologizes, that’s when you both fully communicate your feelings.

Other than silly bickering, you two have a pretty stable relationship. So there’s nothing to worry about.

When you were finally on winter break, Jacob happened to still have another week until his came up. You took a flight to the state his school was in before you returned home.

It was his final game of the season, and you wanted to go either way. So you decided to surprise him.

Once you came up to him on the field, he instantaneously threw his arms around you and swayed you both around. You took him into a kiss. The way he bounced around and laughed warms your heart.

It got heated once you both went up to his dorm.

Outside of that day you both try your best to visit each other before the summer, you’ll see each other during summer camp anyway. But it’s nice to have some alone time.

You both are happy, and that’s all that matters to either of you. Long distance or not you both have a stable relationship!

I’m a bit rusty at Jacob it’s been a hottt minute (thank god for this year’s replay) but I hope you like it! This was fun to write ❤️❤️

[goldfades]

will smith 🌱 37. "what are you listening to?" / "here, take an earbud." ?? 🫶

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧, 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 | wm⁶

♡ ─ word count | 854 words

♡ ─ warnings | mention of stress, but other than that, sweet sweet fluff!!!!!

♡ ─ ev's notes | i love this song so much, i just had to mention it lol. i hope you enjoyed!!

You sat in the library, quietly working on your assignment with your headphones in. Today was stressful, more than usual. It was the second semester and the workload was way more than you could handle, but you pushed through - you couldn't quit now. As you sat in the library, the soft hum of whispered conversations and the turning of pages enveloped you like a comforting blanket. Despite the stress, there was something soothing about being surrounded by books and the focused energy of other students.

The stress weighed heavily on your shoulders, but the determination to persevere fueled your focus. Occasionally, you glanced up from your work, observing the other students absorbed in their own work. Everyone seemed engrossed, each one battling their own challenges. You were glad you weren't alone in the struggle, it was comforting knowing others were suffering as much as you were.

You were listening to your study playlist but it was mostly Taylor Swift, to no one surprise. You loved Folklore and Evermore, they were so calming and you loved listening to them whilst studying.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and looked up to see your boyfriend, Will. He had two coffees in his hand and a bag, seemingly filled with some food. You smiled up at him.

"Can I join you?" Will's quiet voice filled the silence. You nodded and he pulled a chair next to you. "You've been studying for almost 4 hours, you know that right?"

"4 hours?" You repeated, it truly only felt like an hour - you were really engrossed in your work. Will's expression was one of concern as he observed your tired face.

"I got you some coffee and some food, I know you probably haven't had a snack in a while." Will smiled gently as he placed the coffee and the bag of snacks on the table in front of you. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the scent of pastries, instantly rejuvenating your senses. He was right, you had only had breakfast and it was 4 pm right now, you were starving.

"Thanks, Will," you said, offering him a genuine smile as you took a sip of the coffee. The warmth spread through you, both from the beverage and the genuine care he had shown. You noticed a small note attached to one of the coffee cups, and as you unfolded it, you found a handwritten message: You're doing amazing.

Your heart swelled. He was always so thoughtful and he made sure you were alright, he was someone you needed. His presence reminded you that amidst the chaos of deadlines and exams, there were moments of quiet joy and companionship to be cherished.

"Thank you, Will," you murmured, your voice soft with appreciation with a smile on your lips.

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners in response to your gratitude. "Anything for you," he replied, his tone gentle. "I know how hard you've been working, and I just want to make sure you're taking care of yourself. I'm proud of you, okay?"

You tried not to tear up, it had been awhile since someone had recognized your efforts. Will's words were like a balm to your weary heart, soothing the doubts and insecurities that often plagued your mind. His unwavering support was a beacon of light in the darkest of times, a constant reminder that you were not alone in your struggles.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly with emotion. "I couldn't do this without you."

His hand found yours, his touch warm and reassuring. "You're stronger than you think," he said softly, his gaze unwavering. "And I'll always be here to remind you of that. Now, go ahead and finish up so we can go eat."

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips as you wiped away the tears threatening to spill over. With a renewed sense of purpose, you turned back to your laptop, the weight of the assignments feeling just a bit lighter with his words echoing in your mind.

"What are you listening to?" Will spoke up again as you turned to him with a soft smile.

"Here, take an earbud."

"Ah, Taylor Swift. Not surprised." Will grinned as he took the headphone, putting it in his ear. "What song is this? Seven, right?"

"You studied your Taylor Swift well, Will." You smiled back.

He shrugged, "Yup, I did my homework. I like this song, by the way."

"Yeah, me too." You said, feeling a sense of warmth spreading through you at the shared moment of connection over music. It was moments like these, simple and unassuming, that made the challenges of school feel a little less daunting.

Sweet tea in the summer Cross your heart, won't tell no other And though I can't recall your face I still got love for you Your braids like a pattern Love you to the moon and to Saturn Passed down like folk songs The love lasts so long

"I love you." You spoke up again.

"To the moon and Saturn?"

You laughed and nodded. "To the moon and Saturn."

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thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡