#inklings round 3

[thebirdandhersong]

on the good news train today: I have finally finished the last chapter(!!!) of my Inklings challenge story, which marks the FIRST ever Inklings challenge story I've ever completed properly :'D coming in at 30,810 words (yikes) (it did get out of hand, I must admit), it is definitely not a short story, but it IS a piece that I think articulates a lot of what I've been thinking about lately re: love and death, and, considering everything, is probably something I needed to write. I am very happy!! It has been a wild ride, but a deeply clarifying one.

[wireframearson]

hi splatoon community how we feeling about this (found in a video on the official japanese nintendo yt)

(source)

[luckyashes-art]

Traditional drawing jumpscare 💥💥‼️

As well as younger Mitra (my Neo Agent 3 ⁉️

[spookypete-94]

Pregnant by Proxy

SimonRileyxPregnant!Reader

Have had this idea in my head for many, many months. Finally just decided to do it- even if it seems strange to some.

Triggers for medical inaccuracies, language, minor angst, still born mentioned

What triggered it all is you not showing up. Being Laswell’s right hand while she was Watcher, given you the opportunity to assist Task Force 141 on multiple missions. So much, they considered you a part of their team.

Here instead, Simon Riley stood back watching you from afar. He had hunted you down and located you in your hometown. Something he was never ever supposed to do. There was a no contact rule for them outside of their work. Price enforced it for safety reasons. But Simon just couldn’t stand not knowing where you were or what had happened. That was unsafe for him. He needed to see you, needed to make sure you were alright.

“I can’t tell you much, just that she will not be attending this mission.” Laswell spoke from the computer screen during their video call meant to be a mission brief for the 4 of them.

“She ok at least?” Price asked, looking up over the stack of papers in his hands up at the camera.

You had made your mark on all of them… but maybe not as dark or inflicted as you had on Simon.

“Medical emergency back at home. I know you guys are worried about her, but I really can’t disclose anymore.” Laswell’s voice firmer, protecting you.  “She deserves privacy and her time off.” Something you had earned away from them.

Simon couldn’t help but pipe up. “When will she be back?” You are an asset to this team, as much to his spirit.

A heavy sigh from Laswell, “We need to focus on the task ahead.” She was putting up a wall. How dare you leave without relaying some sort of word to him…

What had happened to you?

That was the moment Simon knew he needed to find you. You were at risk, something had happened. Did you get sent somewhere without him and hurt? Are you bruised and bloody? Had someone laid hands on you? Dangerous as you were… Simon couldn’t help feeling that you were fragile. He had seen you in the most intimate of ways on more than one occasion. Perhaps that had changed his perception of the clarity of body. Fragile like clay figurine, porous and breakable. Skin smooth, even though littered with scars in places. Special, is the way to describe you to him. You understood him. An extension of his peace.

So, he finished the mission. Angrier than he had ever been at the end of one. Days drawn out, even though it only took them a week to find their target and take him into custody. It was a success, a record in apprehending someone capable of such violence. Little did the Task Force know, Ghost’s unbridled rage of procrastinating the ability to find you, the result of such a feat.

Price knew something was up when Ghost had turned down the interrogation of the suspect. This was his forte. One of his best qualities of finding intel was beating a man into submission. Glancing with a side eye filled with suspicion, Price then closed it. Halfway knowing what Ghost was up to, the fact that Simon now needed this. He needed to know you were alive.

There were a few times you would tell him stories of your hometown and family after you would connect and lay naked together. He enjoyed it. It distracted his mind while his brain would close his eyes and imagine it. Never once did you tell him where you from or the name of the town… but he had seen it so many times in his mind’s eye, he had just an inkling of where it was hidden.

Imagine his surprise when had finally found you outside your favorite coffee house. A small coffee in your hand… and a swollen belly round in front of you as you slowly waddled away from him. He had stood back near the corner about 3 buildings away from you, following you ever so slowly.

Shock had filled his system. He could walk away now… in fact he fully wanted to bolt and sprint in a different direction. He knew you were safe, alive and clearly thriving… but he had more questions now then when he did about your absence.

Feeling like you were being watched made you turn around. Eyes instantly locked on the black shadow that was following you.

“Simon?” Your sweet voice called to him, filled with confusion and happiness.

“Wanted to see you…” Was all he could mumble out as he approached.

Awkwardly you tried hard to lurch to him, hard to do so when your counterbalance was way off.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much,” a rushed hiss to him, as you tried to lay your head into his chest. It was difficult with how round you were, the babe pressing you away.

His finger guided under your chin, lifting it up so he could see your eyes. Tears welled in them that he brushed back with a thumb. Fucking hormones.

“Missed you,” you repeated. Somehow even through all your emotions, the glow on you was so strong and intense. How beautiful.

Simon remained quiet, while he tried to decide how far along you were. The time frame… seemed possible, but he wasn’t entirely sure. The time away from you seemed so much longer. He wanted to ask, he needed to know this now. Sure, he wanted to run at the same time, but you were important to him. This was important to him.

“Is it mine?” He asked his palm spreading over the circumference.

You stood there unable to speak. It was such a long story. Words hindered, closed off. Instead, you shook your head with a slow no. Regret written all over your face.

Instantly, the rage returned to him. Of course he wasn’t good enough for you. That’s why you left. That’s why everyone eventually does. How dare you be so important to him….

Turning on heel, he pushed past the crowd of people nearby trying to get away from you. Anger blinding him, deafening your calling out.

“Simon!! Wait!! She’s not mine either!!” Trying your hardest to run after him.

What?

He stopped dead in his tracks, unable to turn to look at you yet. The same tears that had stung yours now been transferred to his. Had he really wanted this with someone so bad before?

Your hand pressed into his back letting him know you were still there.

“She’s my sisters… it’s a really long fucked up story, but she is my sister’s.”

Abstract. This whole thing was completely abstract and fucking strange. You were being a surrogate to it all.

“What?” Simon said again, finally turning around, his head looking to the side, still not fully able to look at you yet. He needed clarification, needed to comprehend you hadn’t betrayed him.

“I went on leave because my sister was pregnant and went into labor at about eight and half months…but something had happened. She got this blood infection in her uterus causing a still birth. And when it did, it made things happen to her reproductive organs so she would never be able to carry a baby again…They had to take it all out.” A heavy breath left you, as you started to explain, a shake he could hear in your voice, one that and couldn’t ignore.

He turned back around, finally able to look at you again. To you, it was like the break of dawn and the sun greeting the Earth for the first time. He was listening to you. This whole time you were fearful of losing him… but here he was standing before you. Shining like the sun every morning, a wordless pact.

“My sister… she lost her baby and I saw what it did to her. This is all she has ever wanted was to be a mother, and her chance has been taken from her. So, when the doctor said they had saved some of her eggs…I knew I had to do this for her.” Taking his hand, you placed it back on your belly, sprawling his long fingers over it. “This baby isn’t yours… and she isn’t mine. That doesn’t make her any less important though. Just know I had to do this for her.”

His hand was warm. Radiating warmth into you. It gave so much into you, like you had just spewed out back to him.

Did he doubt you?

“I was on my way to an appointment. Why don’t you come with me and maybe that will help you understand.”

A compromise. Let me make this right.

Sliding his hand across your belly, over to your hand he took it and gripped it, squeezing once in awhile. His quiet assurance. So, you led the way. The sail to his boat, teaching and guiding him.

The room was white. White bed, white paper covering it. White walls. White Floor. So much white it hurt for him to look at. Carefully, he stood next to you, letting you climb on the bed to lay down.

“Where is your sister?” A valid question. He would think if this was her baby, she would want to know details, right?

“Work. I think it still hurts her to come sometimes… She has come to a few in the very beginning, but as it gets closer it scares her.”

A valid response.

“You been coming by yourself?”

A slight shrug of your shoulders. “I have…” That hurt him to know you were doing a majority of this alone.

“How did you…?” He said looking down and looking back up at you.

“Conceive?” Unsure if that was what he was asking or not. “Artificial. They planted the embryo after it was fertilized."

Oh, thank God. The relief written on his face makes you laugh.

“Don’t worry. No one else has been inside me in that way. I would never let anyone, let alone my brother-in-law.” Still chuckling.

“Better not.” The only words he could say in his embarrassment of thinking so.

In walked the doctor, who looked over at the mountain of a man.

“Well, hello. Is his him then?” She pointed to him and looked back at you.

“It is.” A smile radiating back at her, truly at your happiest.

The doctor glanced back over at him. “She has talked about you quite a bit and how much she wished you could be here. It’s hard, what she is doing for someone else, but I’m glad her person is here with her now. Your girl’s quite brave.” Rolling across the floor of the room on her stool.

Simon was dumb founded; you had talked about him to someone else? Did he really mean that much to you too?

“Now let’s have a look.”

Rolling your shirt up, exposing that smooth skin to him one more time. It’s been so long since he had last seen it, and here it had changed so much but remained stunning to him.

The doctor measured it before pulling out the doppler to hear the heartbeat. A soft whooshing noise was instantly recognized, making you close your eyes and smile. It was so surreal to Simon. Like he was on the outside looking in. He had the opportunity to see you in this light… and somehow it still was that way for you too. Knowing you were carrying this baby… but it wasn’t entirely yours either.

“Your niece is looking wonderful. See you at your thirty-six-week appointment. Will be once a week starting then.” Niece… A reminder that you were grateful for this baby, but a deep part of you wished it was daughter.

Somehow, he had made it to the checkout desk with you and hadn’t even realized it.

“Can I list you as an emergency contact?” the question that brought him back to reality. Your eyes were looking up at him, pen and paper in your hand before you wrote his name down.

“Sure,” he said taking the pen and paper, scribbling his number down next to his name. Who said anything about no contact outside of work again?

Ending the day, you brought him back to your home. Allowing him to see more of your personal life. Baring it all to him today. His fragile figurine, safe and protected now that he had found her once more. Never again would you be out of his sights. He will see to fix that, all on his own.

Two hands started at your hips before snaking around, his arms fully embraced you from behind. He lifted up on your heavy belly, taking the weight off your hips. A pleasant groan emitted from you. How good did that feel.

“Such a nice thing you are doing for your sister… but next time, the baby in there is going to be ours.” His mouth hot and heavy next to your ear, before running his tongue from the bottom up. It made your skin run hot and cold all at once, goosebumps in the wake on your skin.

“Going to be such a good mother,” his hand trailing down your belly and onto your thigh before squeezing it. “I want this to be safe and healthy for you all, but as soon as you can… I’m fillin’ you with my own. As many as you’ll let me.” Grinding into you, imagining you swollen with his seed making him aroused.

“I missed you.” You whispered out the thrice time today.

Simon "Ghost" Riley Masterlist

[sashiavi]

•··········🍑···········• ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪•···········🍑··········•

this has been rotting in my documents since October </3 abandoned kinktober prompt I just couldn't get out of my head :((

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♡𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗♡ Wriothesley x Reader - wrio finds you stuck in a wall

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: | ¹⁸⁺ | ˢᵐᵘᵗ | ᵃᶠᵃᵇ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ | ᴾʳᶦˢᵒⁿᵉʳᵎ ᴿᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ | ᵖᵘⁿᶦˢʰᵐᵉⁿᵗ | ˢᵗᵘᶜᵏ ᶦⁿ ᵃ ʷᵃˡˡ | ᵖᵒʷᵉʳ ᵈʸⁿᵃᵐᶦᶜˢ | ᵈᵒᵐ/ˢᵘᵇ | ⁿᵃˢᵗʸ ⁿᵃˢᵗʸ ʷʳᶦᵒ ˢᵐᵘᵗ | ʷᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ ³.⁵ᵏ

→ᴰᵃʳᵏ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᵂᵃʳⁿᶦⁿᵍ←

ᵀʰᶦˢ ᴾᶦᵉᶜᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃᶦⁿˢ ᵀʰᵉᵐᵉˢ ᴼᶠ ⁻ ᴰᵘᵇᶜᵒⁿ|ᴰᵘᵐᵇᶦᶠᶦᶜᵃᵗᶦᵒⁿ|ˢᵗᵘᶜᵏᵃᵍᵉ| ᴿᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ᴰᶦˢᶜʳᵉᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᴵˢ ᴬᵈᵛᶦˢᵉᵈ

•· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·····.•🍑•.····· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·•

Well, well. What an amusing predicament. Wriothesley certainly didn't expect his morning to turn out so… Interestingly. 

The Duke makes his rounds through the Fortress of Metropide twice a day. Once in the morning and again during the young hours of the night, right when the sun sets. Not that its rays could be seen so far down under the surface of the sea, but the sentiment was there. Wriothesely would often be seen passing through the establishment's pleasantries, always making a stop by the inmate sleeping quarters, he ought to have an idea of exactly whom he had in his Fortress.. Right?

He ventures further than the guards are assigned, boots clicking coolly against the metallic flooring, echoing through the high domed ceilings of the holding pods. The Duke makes an effort into personally peeking a look into each isolated cell, sometimes striking up a small conversation with an inmate or two. The man knew all-too-well just how lonesome time in prison was, he could at least acknowledge their existences. 

Speaking of, his mind wanders as he approaches a specific cell, isolated and cold - Away from the rest, segregated by the Fortress’ rule of separating cases, depending on their verdict - Wriothesley flitters back to a conversation he held the night before -

- “Now, what's a girl like you doing here in my Fortress?” Wriothesley leans himself upon the bars of your cell. The area was quiet, isolated with little inhabitants, even more so during the day time, while inmates congregated within the public area of the fortress. You jump slightly, whipping around to face him. 

“Oh, you know.. Stuff..” You reply, looking a little shameless towards him. He had an inkling that you were up to no good. But he’d bite.

“How’s the Fortress treating you? Despite the whole prison aspect,” He chuckles to himself, earning your own laugh, dancing in his ears.

“It’s.. a little boring in here,” He watches your eyes wander around the cell.

“Well- At least you have that poster there, plenty of fun to stare at, I’m sure.” Wriothesley lets his eyes crinkle. The poster was large, stuck to the wall haphazardly, crooked and torn on one corner. “That thing could cover up anything,” He side comments. He watches your interest pique, head tilting in what he could only describe as thought - A stupid one he thinks. 

“I wouldn't try it, you just might escape. I can't have that happen, now can I?” He winks, finally continuing his evening round throughout the section of the fortress.

All of that circles back to the now, as Wriothesley approaches your cell on his morning patrol. Something stirs in his chest, a tickling inkling. He nearly half expects you to have followed his gracious ‘advice’ - If you could even call it that. 

Lo and behold, the Duke spots a special individual poking out from the cracked cell wall. Your lower half nearly dangles from the partition, practically on tippy toes, ankles surely close to giving out from the awkward position. The poster from the night before lays perfectly on the floor next to your frame, comically outlining just how bad you had messed up. He nearly chuckles at the sudden jolt of your body as he unlocks the cell door, craning it open with an obnoxious creak.

“Well.. Aren’t you something?” His heavy boots resonate through the near barren cell, echoing as he makes his way towards your predicament.

You helplessly squirm, whining out of your throat as you fruitlessly struggle in your impromptu confines. Wriothesley stares down at you in utter bemusement, his face cracking with an audacious downturned smile; not that you could see his face through the thick prison wall. Poor You. All lodged and stuck.

"Y-Your Grace! It's not what it looks like-" Your voice manages through the wall, a little muffled to the ear. However, Wriothesley was sure you hadn’t even broken into the adjacent room.

"It's exactly what it looks like. Who knew you'd actually try it." He almost laughs. It wasn’t like you were going to go anywhere - Last he checked, the Fontainian Ocean was right outside their door.

“Seemed like a decent idea..” Wriothesley has to strain to hear your mumble.

“We’re far under the water dear.. Or did you forget in your haste?” This time, he makes no effort to stifle his laugh, chuckling out loud when your form visibly slumps - Whether out of embarrassment or defeat - He was thoroughly amused.

“Hmm.. Now, what do we do with you?” Wriothesley teases. He cranes his body, bending his back with purpose, inspecting the damage you had added to the already faulty wall. How you had managed to wiggle your way in this far, he hadn't a clue. Your body noticeably tenses, you make an attempt to find a proper footing, easily failing from the height of the hole.

“P-Please Your Grace- I’ll do anything, really! Anything you want just- please don’t add time for this..”

“You’ll do.. Anything…?” Call him confused, what were you on about?

“Yes, anything- ch-chores? Solitary? I’ll be good I swear, really- Or you could..” You trail off, leaving the Duke to sit with his whirring brain for a moment. “You.. Can take me… Use me how you want- Please~ Y-You’re stressed right? U-Use me.. Do whatever you wanna-” You sounded nearly delirious. Your pretty ass shakes, brushing up against the front of his pants, a feeble attempt to press back into him.

Were you trying to bargain with him? Wriothesley was more than ready to pull you out, maybe give a little slap on the wrist and send you on your merry way. But now? The Duke couldn't help but indulge in the feeling of his pants tightening around his groin. The idea of taking your pretty self, stuck helplessly in the wall. He couldn't refuse your offer, right? Not when you sounded so eager. Not when you begged for him, for his body, for his thick aching cock, threatening to burst the seam of his trousers. 

Before he can properly stop himself - Not that he was really going to - Wriothesley finds his hands on the soft swell of your ass, squeezing the flesh in his palms. You jolt under his touch, footing slipping slightly against the floor that barely brushed against your toes. Wriothesley breathes hard from his nose, hooking his fingers into the cut of your waistband, pulling the fabric over your form. He hears a whimper from beyond the wall.

“Y-Your Grace…The wall..” Your voice wobbles, body tensing against the brush of his hands.

“What? Having second thoughts?” He can’t help but tease you, squishing his fingers into the soft meat of your ass, digging his hands into your half-on pants. You did say anything. You gasp out, voice cracking with muffled little pleas. ‘Never’ you say ‘Want it bad - so bad’.

Your pants come off quickly, thrown to the floor in a crumple. Wriothesley’s hands are on you again, spreading the fat of your ass apart, marvelling at the pretty swell of your pussy hugged against your panties. He watches your plush thighs squish together, rubbing and squirming in his hold, he couldn't tell if you were wiggling away or keening into him. Not that you could go anywhere. The thought irks a chuckle out of Wriothesley. His fingers wander again, caressing over the soft skin of your ass, digging them in and jiggling cheekily. His thumbs slide over and hook into the elastic of your panties, hugging around the thick of your legs. He meanly tugs at the snappy material, pulling it up and taught, forcing the fabric to cling achingly against your cunt. His tongue instinctively pokes from behind his lips, itching to lap at the pretty wet spot that had formed over the fabric. 

Wriothesley swallows thickly, eyes locked on your pretty cunt, head swimming with the short, hiccuped whines that cut through the wall. You babble and cry, repeating his title over and over - Your Grace, Your Grace - begging him to just touch. To do anything - Anything. 

Your pretty voice gets to him and he finds himself nearly ripping your drenched panties off of you. He pulls them down, leaving them dangling off of your legs, showing off your wet cunt just for him. Gods, he wasn't disappointed. Your pretty pussy peeks from behind the swell of your thighs, already dripping wet, all over yourself. He swears he twitches, breath hissing through his teeth, cold on your core. The sweet jump you make - as best as you could - sends him reeling. 

Wriothesley’s thick fingers tentatively poke at your dripping pussy, catching your sweet, dribbly slick on his fingertips. He awes at how it webs between his fingers, how you’d managed to work yourself up with your own babbling. Perhaps the wall aided a little - Showing off your bottom half, on full display just for him to enjoy, your own vision obscured. You wouldn't see anything coming. The thought runs straight to his cock, making itself well known again against the fly of his trousers. 

Wriothesley licks against his lips, enamoured at the pretty string of your slick on his fingers, sticking between his digits like a lattice. He needs more. He wastes no time, easily slipping in two of his fingers, knuckle deep right into the doughy swell of your hole. Gods, you felt so soft. Silky to his touch, pussy pretty and plushy and warm. The squeal that muffles through the wall forces him to sink his teeth into his own bottom lip. Toying with you came to him naturally. Ever so easy with you all snug and stuck, silly enough to try and swindle him and escape your commitment to the Fortress. 

“W-Wriothesley… your g-grace..” He ignores you, fingers digging into the sweet, supple curve of your cunt. He curls them downward, earning the prettiest, muffled cries through the wall. He releases a breath he didn't even know he was holding. Wriothesley thrusts his fingers hard. Pressing meanly into the achy swollen bump in your core, getting a kick out of the lewd suckling squelch of your pussy on his fingers. Your poor legs practically give out, ankles going limp, your body holding itself up thanks to the wall hugging your body. Your voice crackles through the cement, whiney and keening, babbling dumb nonsensical begs and pleads to him. Your slick pools against his knuckles, threatening to overturn the snug fit of his rings on his fingers. He can't help but stare, locked in, mind reeling with the way your cunt wrapped around his digits. He couldn't help but wonder just what that pretty little thing would look like, all red and puffy, hugging on his thick cock.

He shamelessly lets out his own groan. Finally managing to remove his fingers, watching in awe as your slick drips off of them, connecting him to you with a thin, dribbly line. 

Just a taste…

The thought zaps through his brain, tongue shamelessly poking its way past his teeth, running over his lips with a quick tilt of his head.

Wriothesley wastes no time. Wrapping his lips against your slick cunt, eyes rolling hard into the back of his skull. Fuck. Your taste on his tongue, sweet and tangy, oh so decadently coating his throat. Archons, he laps and suckles, nearly sinking his teeth into the heat of your core, into the puffy swell of your pussy lips. You keen back into him, whining never-ending, absolutely ceaseless, voice managing to pierce through the heavy material of the wall you’d stuck yourself in. That thought charges through his mind again. Poor little you, all stuck and lodged in the wall all for him to play with. The man was sure he would cream in his own pants if he kept up. He barely registers his knees beginning to ache under the heavy pressure of his own body meeting the floor. Since when had he managed to sink down? Finding his hands back on your plushy ass cheeks? Chin dribbling slobber and slick, sticking wetly to the scratchy stubble shadowing over his face? He couldn't take it anymore. 

Wriothesley stands with a start, ignoring the stiff crack of his knees in favour of unbuckling his godforsaken pants. His hands are clumsy, large palms pawing at the metal of his trousers, his belt suddenly too intricate for his rough, fervent body to figure out - Not with how his mind reels, with the sight of you stuck in the wall, pretty pussy drooling, on display all for him. He barely shoves his pants to his thighs, the material wrapping around his legs in a mess. His cock weeps as it's free, slapping up into his stomach, heavy balls hanging over the waist of his trousers. He leaks beads of sticky pre, messing up the surface of his dress shirt. Wriothesley groans out loud, hand coming up to wrap around the base of his cock, squeezing it up and down to ease the hot tension pulsing through his thick cock vein. 

He was sure you heard the cold clink of his belt, the only inkling of what was to come for you. He can't help but jerk his length off to the sight of you, shamelessly stalling just to mess with your head. No matter how much you squirm and beg, crying out as best as you could, stupidly asking for a reply to gather any kind of indication of what he was about to do to you. He stays silent.

Wriothesley meanly slaps his cock over the sticky, wet folds of your achy cunt, he chuckles when you jump again, going absolutely crazy for your every little reaction. Your pussy sounded so pretty on his tip, all wet and sticky as he slapped and rubbed against it. His fat tip slides over your warm, slick folds, craning his hips forward, catching against your sopping hole, earning him the softest gasps from within the wall. Your little jumps all but spur him all the more on.

“M’ not even in yet.. Pussy’s already tryin’ to suck me in,” Wriothesley pokes his tip against your hole, catching it against the warm, supple squeeze of your cunt. He growls through his teeth, head quickly draining of any cohesive decision making. Your babbling continues through the wall, your hips crane up into his own, wiggling and catching back on the thick head of his dick. Gods, that does it. You were insatiable, all stuck waiting for him to come along and ravage your pretty cunt with his cock. 

It all urges him to dive in, give your poor cunt no warning for his thick, dribbling cock.

And so he does.

“Fuuuckk” Wriothesley can’t help but groan, finally feeling the sweet swell of your cunt enveloped the fat length of his cock. He has to bite into his thumb, just to slow himself down, let himself relish in the sweet squeeze of your cunt on his cock. Gods the way you wrapped around him, silky soft walls hugging on his length. He can't help but awe at the way your achy pussy squeezed on him, all puffy and sore from neglect. His hands find your hips, one of the only parts free from the wall.

“Your Grace~.. So big- so biiig… Filling me up- please please… please” Your silly voice cracks through the wall. Wriothesley digs his fingers into the flesh of your hips, purposely lifting your poor legs off of the floor, leveraging your body just for him to use. You squirm in his hold, easily forcing him to grip you tighter.

“Fuck, stay still. Gonna make me go crazy..” Wriothesley finds himself mindlessly rocking his thick cock into your silky cunny, humping his hips against your ass like some kind of dog in rut. Archons, he could get used to this. His own personal little wall slut, always there for him to use and abuse. His eyes roll at the idea, his snapping hard, earning a loud hiccuped cry from within the thick wall. The hot squelch that follows has him nearly drooling, mouth dropped open in a soft frown, eyes locked on to his heavy cock sliding in and out of your dumb cunt. He fucks his hips hard again, cock head smacking into the deepest parts of your pussy.

Wriothesley doesn't remember speeding up. But he sure as hell won't be slowing down - not anytime soon. Your gushy pussy squelches on his cock, dribbling down your thighs, messing all over your poor aching legs. Wriothesley’s fingers keep a hold of your hips, rocking them slightly to meet his brutal pace. He doesn't have to crane his ears to hear your pretty moans, effortlessly reaping through the solid wall, barely muffled by the sheer loudness of your voice. 

Fuck, he didn’t care about the noise. Let everyone hear them. What were they going to do about it? What were you going to do about it? About getting all stuck in this wall, going against the Fortress’ protocol? Seducing the Duke of the Meropide, forcing him to fuck your dumb brains out to teach you a lesson? A growl resonates from his throat, hips snapping hard, clapping into the sweet swell of your ass cheeks as he fucks up your cunt. 

Wriothesley’s eyes wander, locking down on the sweet jiggle of your ass and the puffy red throb of your cunt on his cock. A heavy breath makes its way through his nose, eyes hyper focused on the pretty, creamy ring around his length as he fucks his hips against you, slowly leaking its way on to his pants. An ache builds in his pelvis, thick vein pulsing on the underside of his cock. Your moans don't stop, legs continuously squirming in his grasp, body stuck in the juncture of your silly wall. He thinks you beg, maybe you scream, crying out for him to keep going, to fill you up to cum hard and deep and mess up your insides. 

Wriothesley drops your legs, forcing you to dangle, his hands press into the wall above, grinding his hips upwards, stabbing your pussy impossibly deeper with his length. Sweat beads off of his nose, his calves cramp and ache with every thrust he makes, but Gods, he wasn't going to stop. He finds himself moaning out loud, complementing the pretty noises that creak through the wall. Your pussy hugs on his length, squeezing nice and tight, wrapping around his fat tip every time he slams it back into you. 

His teeth grit hard. Eyes still locked on to the messy slide of his length, in and out, in and out. He was coming close. So fucking close.

Wriothesley’s brow scrunches, relishing in the aching squeeze of your messy pussy on his cock. He couldn't take it anymore. The creamy ring he’d fucked out of you, the pretty ripple of your ass on his hips, how juicy and gushy your cunt was on his length. Gods, it was all so much. His hips snap, pace faltering, clapping his hips in heated staccatos, dragging his length out and slamming right back in with a hard smack. You cry with every thrust, silky cunt squeezing on his tip, babbling his name over and over and over. 

He finally spills with a deep, hard fuck. His thick tip spurts hot rivulets of cum into your silky pussy. He messes your insides with white, fucking himself through his orgasm, humping up on your cunt, mounting your pussy with his cock. His throat growls with every fuck, sweat beads off of the tip of his nose, he watches his hot spurts leak steadily out of your hole, leaking around the base of his length. He can’t help but nestle right into your cunt, relishing in the sweet squeeze of your milky walls on him, he cranes his hips every so often, teasing his aching tip with your soft insides.

You kick and whine as eventually, he pulls out, dribbling his hot white cum down your thighs. 

“No~ need more! More more!” Your muffled voice cries, pitifully wiggling within the hug of the wall, attempting to squirm your way out.

Wriothesley chuckles hotly, eying off the sweet gush of cum that drools out of your puffy pussy. His mouth waters, salivating like a dog. Surely he could take you out of the wall a little later? You’d understand. You’d been a great little wall slut for him so far, so why not indulge for as long as he wanted? Maybe he'd let you cum, spray and mess all over yourself - He could even let you out as a reward.

His finger comes up to caress over your spent hole, scooping up the leaking slick that coated your poor pussy. The cry he earns makes his half-hard cock stiffen, bobbing to life with a flex.

Archons, weren’t you something?

hnnnnnng gg g wrio wooof wOof - my longest fics are always wrio </3

Idk what possessed me to create this- I hope you enjoyed ;3

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Thank You For Reading! Comments Are Always, Always Appreciated! Ilysm <333

♡ᵀᵃᵍˡᶦˢᵗ♡

@madsw9 @pvbbyb0y @heath-sama @shiningpaint-marbleheart @the-massive-simp @tericula @a-random-weeb @mechalily @mydarlingdahlia @finnie9479

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Do Not Translate Or Repost - Property Of SashiAvi ♡

[loaksky]

— 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 & 𝒊 | 𝒆. 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒂𝒎𝒔

mean neighbor!ellie x sunshine fem!reader, angst / fluff / hurt + comfort, modern!au warnings: language / 18+ content (mdni!), wc: 5k

you have a hot new neighbor…too bad she doesn’t want a thing to do with you!

tagging those who commented / liked my previous interest post!: @loversreligion , @tahni-04 , @parrotpeggy , @acnologiasgf , @maybe-cece (happy birthday gemini queen ! <3)

an — first time writing for ellie ! content warnings include oral (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving). not my first time writing 18+ content, but my first time posting eeek. i apologize for the person ellie has turned me into lmaooo. feel free to send me more ideas, blurbs, hcs, etc.

neighbor!ellie who moves in on a hot sticky july day.

ac’s busted in the common areas, elevator hasn’t worked in weeks, and she’s moved into a unit on the fifth floor.

neighbor!ellie who’s admittedly too far gone and incredibly irritated because jesse keeps fucking around and they almost drop her flat screen on the third flight of steps.

neighbor!ellie who finally gets most of the boxes and furniture settled and doesn’t even get to collapse on the couch for .2 seconds before someone’s knocking on the door.

yanks the knob so hard, the door rattles on its hinges.

eyes narrow when she sees you, all neat, not sweaty, dressed in an outfit definitely not indicative of a night in. only makes her even more annoyed because she just wants two seconds of peace.

“yes?” her tone is sharp, gaze bored because your lips part thrice before the words are spilling out.

“i know it’s miserable out, and this building can be a piece of shit, so i made some blackberry tea!”

neighbor!ellie who gives the glass, beaded with condensation, a brief glance before crossing her arms over her chest.

“i’m allergic to blackberries,” ellie says flatly.

your round eyes widen impossibly before tucking the glass behind your back.

“oh fuck, i’m so sorry,” you babble. “i have peach! or maybe mint? i—”

“i’ll pass.”

neighbor!ellie who doesn’t beat around the bush and makes a move to close the door because she hadn’t even checked into the conversation.

“if you ever need anything, i’m right next door!” you chirp. “i’m-”

“yup, yeah, got it. good night.”

and the door is shutting in your face.

neighbor!ellie who’s trying to sleep in because she stayed up all night playing tekken 4 with jesse jolting awake when she hears three soft raps against the front door.

has an inkling of who it could be so she’s only mildly surprised when she sees you standing on the welcome mat that says ‘no weenies allowed’ because jesse thought it was the funniest thing (ellie’d been only slightly amused).

“morning,” you smile.

you have a plate covered in foil in your hands and ellie gives you a brief onceover to find that you’re dressed to the nines again (admittedly it’s just a simple sundress, but the red and white ginham cuts at the meatiest part of your thighs and she has to remind herself to keep her eyes up).

“it’s…” ellie trails off, glances at the clock on the oven to find that it’s not even 9am. “…8:52am on a saturday morning.”

“it is,” you agree, extending the plate to her. “i, uh, hope you’re not allergic to pancakes?”

“…i’m not.”

you beam.

“great!”

you’re shoving the food in her hands before she can decline and ellie finds that the ceramic is still warm.

neighbor!ellie who awkwardly holds the plate up to you as a silent thanks and shuts the door in your hopeful face.

“i gotta give it to you williams, didn’t think you’d pull within 24 hours,” jesse mutters groggily from the couch he’d helped her lug up the stairs yesterday afternoon.

“oh fuck off,” she huffs, tearing the foil from the plate to find a five-stack of fluffy pancakes with two cute little strawberry-shaped containers that has butter and syrup respectively.

“who’s it from?” jesse asks, even though he knows the answer.

“girl in 5a.”

first bite in and ellie’s eyebrows raise because wow, that’s damn good.

jesse swipes a bite despite ellie’s protests and they polish off the matching plate that she puffs a laugh at because there’s a strawberry bandit painted in the center and in shoddy lettering says, “this is a strobbery”

neighbor!ellie who surprises you by washing and returning the plate later that evening, muttering out a quick thanks before ducking back into her apartment without another word.

she leaves you blinking, staring at the space she was previously standing in a moment prior before you smile and shut the door because god ellie is so hot.

neighbor!ellie doesn’t expect it to become a routine, but more often than not, you’re knocking on her door at any given hour with snacks and she’s surprised when, a week and a half in, she’s had to do minimal grocery shopping because you’re always feeding her.

little does she know it’s because you’re looking forward to the brief moments that she’s unintentionally banging on your door to return your plates and dinnerware.

neighbor!ellie who’s a mechanic and brings your goodies to work sometimes and gets teased by the other mechanics because they think she has a girlfriend.

neighbor!ellie who after revealing she works in a garage starts opening up her front door to little reusable bags with cute notes and food puns if your schedule’s don’t line up.

neighbor!ellie whose schedule does end up frequently aligning with yours and you end up taking the same elevator down.

“morning, ellie,” you greet, smiling softly at her despite being up at the asscrack of dawn.

neighbor!ellie who yawns, takes the lunch you made for her gratefully and walks with you to the elevator.

“morning, 5a.”

neighbor!ellie who could get used to only seeing you in the fifth floor halls, however, after a few weeks, you stumble upon her in different circumstances.

you’re usually out on your balcony in the early mornings to water your plants and drink your tea or coffee, but today’s been exceptionally rough at work (you’re, surprise, a café owner) so you step out to take a deep breath late in the evening after your shift.

you definitely don’t expect to find ellie perched on a stool flicking the ash from a blunt over the railing.

“‘sup,” she hums, taking a long pull.

“hey,” you sigh.

“long day?” she humors you.

the two of you don’t really have much conversation because ellie’s always finding ways to cut interactions with you short.

and it’s not particularly because she doesn’t like you, but she’s caught the vibe you’re giving off and she doesn’t want to give you any unnecessary hope, especially after such a messy break up with the last girl.

(it’s definitely not because something about you makes her nervous).

so she doesn’t really expect you to spill, but one moment you’re debating whether or not you should divulge and the next you’re talking a mile a minute about how draining the job can be especially when employees end up being unreliable and the customers are impatient.

ellie’s gone through the entire joint and you still haven’t stopped talking and she doesn’t want to be mean, especially because you’ve been so nice to her since she’s moved in, but the high is wearing off because she’s too focused on finding an out of the one-sided conversation.

“you should come by,” you say, once you’re done babbling. “to the café, i mean. bring your friends, i’ll stay open a little later for you guys.”

that catches ellie’s attention after she’d zoned out.

“i— you don’t have to do that,” she says. “and i mean, we’re all pretty busy and—”

“no, no!” you say sweetly. “i insist! i wanna test out a few new seasonal recipes and i’d love some opinions!”

ellie’s wracking her brain, but you’re looking at her so hopefully and you look too cute with a few strands of hair falling from your updo. she really doesn’t want to give in, so she gives a lukewarm response instead.

“i’ll, uh, get back to you, i guess.”

you’re grinning.

“try to clear saturday night!” you tell her. “sometime around 9:30!”

ellie opens her mouth to give one last protest, but you’re standing from where you’d been leaning against the railing.

“it’ll be fun!” you tell her. “night, ellie!”

neighbor!ellie who really doesn’t want to go because she feels like it’ll only add fuel to the fire.

the beginning of the week rolls around and you decide that this’ll be the week you’ll finally ask ellie out.

you figure that ellie’s just really quiet, isn’t the one to really put herself out there, so you wanna take initiative.

you’re thinking of all the different recipes you could try because you really wanna wow her and her friends.

little does ellie know that you’re lowkey agonizing over saturday and it’s all you can think about: what you’ll wear, what pairings you want to present, how you’ll decorate the cafe.

meanwhile, ellie’s trying to find a way out of it and jesse’s not any help because he keeps teasing her about how she must be broken for not wanting her hot neighbor who has a glaringly obvious crush on her.

everyone on the whole floor, possibly even the whole building knows. hell, even the doorman knows (and it’s definitely not because you stop to chat with him frequently when you walk your little beagle, apple, and ellie becomes a frequent topic of conversation).

neighbor!ellie who starts avoiding you because she fears that her being receptive to your kindness is giving you the wrong idea (definitely not because you’re growing on her and you’re becoming a part of her daily routine).

neighbor!ellie who sees you twice the entire week, doesn’t answer the door when you knock, stuffs your cute little post-its about saturday somewhere in the back of her junk drawer, smokes her blunts on the roof to avoid running into on the balcony.

neighbor!ellie who spends most of her time at the garage with jesse and her coworkers in efforts to get home after you do.

you figure that maybe she is really busy and you shouldn’t have been so pushy about the tasting, but you’ve grown to really like her and you can’t give this up without officially giving it a shot.

neighbor!ellie who ducks out of her apartment when she knows you’re out on saturday and leaves her lights off, so you’ll know she isn’t home.

neighbor!ellie who spends the day with jesse and his girl and gets invited to a kickback on the otherside of town.

neighbor!ellie who’s about two joints in and a couple shots out, so she’s crossed by nine and you completely slip her mind.

you’re on the other side of town, about a block from your apartment, waiting in the cafe for ellie.

you made such a pretty spread of lavender matcha cookies and lemon muffins. used your special espresso roast to brew a delicious batch of coffee to make a few lattes.

you’d even bought flowers from next door, decorated the table and light a few candles.

it’s 9:45 and you think that she’s gonna be late, but time’s passing and the pastries are going stale, the coffee going lukewarm.

it’s 10:30 when you start losing hope.

probably 11:30 when you blow out the candles, box up the treats and throw the espresso in the cooler for some iced coffee tomorrow morning.

you should’ve seen it coming, really. she did say that her and her friends were typically busy. and she hadn’t officially confirmed it with you either so you were being rather presumptuous anyways.

you decide that maybe you’ll just drop them by her place tomorrow and ask her to lunch!

it’s about midnight when you walk up the sidewalk and see that her LEDs are on in her room. it vaguely smells like weed so you figure she’d been smoking a little.

you don’t wanna bother her so late at night so you enter your own apartment, set the box on the kitchen island before padding into your room to get ready for bed.

you should’ve seen it coming, ellie standing you up, but what you don’t see coming, or hear, for that matter, are the muffled moans through the paper thin walls.

you’d been used to hearing ellie cuss at her video games, heard her getting better at playing the guitar, bickering with jesse over who got to be who during smash bros, but this was new.

you’d never heard the voice before, pitched and whiny.

your cheeks warm because whatever ellie’s doing must be good. you can’t even find it in yourself to be relieved that ellie was interested in girls. you’d initially been scared that maybe you were reading into it all wrong.

regardless, obviously you’d read everything way way wrong because ellie’s mouth is filthy and there’s no misconstruing the fact that she’s fucking someone six ways to sunday and you can hear every gory detail.

your stomach is churning because it’s been weeks and you couldn’t even get ellie outside the fifth floor’s hallway.

it’s obvious they’re thoroughly enjoying themselves and the hurt and envy that kindles is an ugly sight to see.

you end up sleeping in the living room that night.

neighbor!ellie who chases the girl out the following morning after a nasty hangover and finally coming to terms with the fact that she’d brought someone home last night.

neighbor!ellie whose stomach drops to her ass when someone knocks on the door a few minutes later and she thinks it’s you, but it ends up being jesse.

“jesus, did 5a do that?” he asks, referring to your apartment number in regards to the fresh hickies blooming up the column of ellie’s throat.

“god no,” ellie says. “how many times do i have to tell you, that’s never happening.”

neighbor!ellie who would never tell a soul that she’d been imagining a certain someone the night prior.

neighbor!ellie who doesn’t want to think of anything more than being your neighbor because she’s locked in this lease for the next two years and she’d prefer to not shit where she sleeps.

(yeah, that’s totally it).

“dude why not? she’s obviously so down bad for you,” jesse chuckles, pushing past ellie.

she huffs a breath, defensive.

“god, i don’t know how she isn’t embarrassed, it’s fuckin’ pathetic.”

oh—

you’d heard jesse’s voice, then ellie’s, and figured you could give her the pastries you worked so hard on last night.

you’d always thought that ellie was just naturally aloof, kept to herself often, but last night was the coffin and this morning was the nail.

in the stillness of your apartment, jesse and ellie’s voice carries through the thin walls.

“i mean, you could just fuck her a couple of times, get it out of your system?”

“god, look at her, there’s not a casual bone in her body.”

“you can’t run away from her forever, yknow?”

neighbor!ellie who thinks to herself that she’ll try anyways.

neighbor!ellie who doesn’t have to try, because you become an enigma after that.

it’s the middle of the week and she hasn’t had to even try avoiding you once.

you haven’t knocked on her door since the week prior and it makes her brows furrow.

neighbor!ellie who starts feeling bad for standing you up, but feels infinitely worse when she goes to dump some of her trash and finds the carton of pastries you’d baked.

they have your café’s name emblazoned on the logo and she vaguely remembers you chattering about trying lavender in one of your recipes.

she sees the purple food coloring and her heart sinks because why are they in the trash? :(

realizes that she’s fucked up and that maybe she should just be completely transparent with you.

neighbor!ellie who hesitantly knocks on your door and waits patiently for you to answer.

hears shuffling on the other side, but you don’t open up.

neighbor!ellie who tries to convince herself that you’re just busy! work is stressful right now and you’re keeping to yourself.

but you two end up bumping into each other on the elevator (she’d been lurking), and you give her a curt greeting because you’re polite and you realize that ellie doesn’t owe you anything.

“apple’s got a haircut,” she observes, leaning down to pet the pup.

“yeah,” you hum.

“she looks cute,” ellie compliments.

“thanks.”

neighbor!ellie who’s not used to you icing her out, so she takes the leap.

“hey, i wanted to apologize…” she trails off. “about saturday. i shouldn’t have flaked.”

“s’okay,” you say simply, watching as the numbers painfully descend. “you were busy.”

a blanket of silence.

“i’m sure the pastries were great,” ellie tries again. “we could always—”

the elevator dings and the doors part.

“have a good day, ellie,” you say softly, tugging apple by the leash to leave the lift.

neighbor!ellie who swears she hears you sniffling on the other side of the wall later that night, but tries to convince herself that you’ve just got allergies.

neighbor!ellie who thinks of every excuse in the book to try and talk to you, but she ends up freezing because fuck, have you always been this pretty?

neighbor!ellie who buys a succulent and puts it on her balcony. she tries to catch you in the mornings when you’re watering your plants, but it seems like your schedules just don’t align anymore.

neighbor!ellie is frustrated as fuck because she’d been avoiding getting attached, but you don’t knock on her door to deliver snacks or talk her ear off anymore and it drives her absolutely nuts.

neighbor!ellie who gets teased infinitely more at work because her coworkers are now convinced that there’s ‘trouble in paradise’.

“jesus christ, you’re actually pathetic,” jesse rolls his eyes over breakfast one weekend.

“dude, she just…” ellie lets out a frustrated sigh. “i just—”

“you miss her,” he fills in.

ellie turns red.

“fuck you, i don’t—”

“it’s okay to admit it, yknow?” he says. “she’s a lot different from your exes. she’s genuinely sweet, in it because she really likes you.”

ellie swallows, lips pursing.

“you’re soft around her,” jesse observes. “you think that if you give in, she’s gonna uncover parts of you you don’t even let me or joel see.”

“fuck you—”

“for someone who likes bitches you—”

ellie groans.

neighbor!ellie who goes home and rolls a joint because this limbo is stressing her out.

and FINALLY! you’re watering your plants on your balcony when she slides the patio door open and slinks outside.

you don’t say anything to her, just continue watering.

she slumps in her folding lawn chair, kicking her feet up on the railing to feign nonchalance, but you haven’t blinked an eye at her and she’s annoyed.

“been doing alright?” she asks finally.

you freeze for the briefest of moments before glancing at her.

you’ve got bags under your eyes and your lips are pursed and ellie’s heart squeezes.

“yeah,” you answer simply. “fine.”

ellie hums.

“how’s work?”

“same old,” you say, turning your back to her to tend to the plants housed on the other side.

neighbor!ellie who doesn’t know what to say. who’s so used to trying to break conversation, not make them.

neighbor!ellie who fidgets because you’re making her nervous. you’re usually so sweet and smiley, but this side of you makes her gut churn.

neighbor!ellie who bites the bullet.

“i’m…i’m off on sunday…” she says, scratching the back of her neck. “if you wanted to— i dunno.”

your back straightens and she thinks you’re gonna bite, but you glance at the sidewalk below and shake your head.

“you don’t have to pretend, you know?” you say softly.

it’s like a punch in the chest and ellie’s scrambling.

“no! it’s—” she realizes she’s shouting. “it’s not like that, i—”

“i’m a big girl, ellie,” you tell her, that stupid little strawberry-shaped spray bottle squeezed tight in your hand. “if i was annoying, you could have just said that.”

and god she feels so fucking awful because this entire time, you’d just been trying to be nice to her. it was a harmless crush and—

“i don’t think you’re annoying,” she argues weakly. “can you…can you look at me, please?”

your head tilts up and ellie realizes that you’re trying to stop yourself from crying.

“god, i really am pathetic,” is your watery whisper.

ellie’s crossing the balcony, fully ready to climb over the railing onto your patio, but you’re quickly dashing away the tears and throwing the sliding door open.

“goodnight,” you tell her, and you’re sealing her out in the humid air.

neighbor!ellie who’s in knots because living next to someone she used to see everyday fucking sucks now that all the two of you are reduced to is straining extra hard to hear your shuffling from the other side of the walls.

neighbor!ellie who stands in front of your door sometimes, wanting to knock, but feeling like she doesn’t deserve closure with you because it’s all her fault.

neighbor!ellie who realizes that the very awkwardness and discomfort she was avoiding to begin with could’ve been avoidable had she just been up front with you.

you were sweet and you were understanding…mature. you would’ve probably taken better to honesty than ellie blowing you off and lowkey being an ass to you.

neighbor!ellie being scolded by jesse after a couple of days pass because he’s beating her ass at smash bros without even trying and it’s hurting his ego.

“are you seriously gonna keep moping over 5a?” he asks after the fourth round won.

“i’m not moping,” ellie grumbles.

“oh c’mon dude,” jesse moans in annoyance. “you and 5a have this dad with four kids who doesn’t want a puppy but ends up loving the shit out of the—”

“i do not love her,” ellie barks.

jesse smirks.

“that’s all you took from that, ellie, seriously?” jesse scoffs.

“i mean, it’s not like there’s much that can be done, anyways,” ellie grunts, tossing the video game controller onto the coffee table’s surface. “she fuckin’ hates me and i don’t blame her.”

“5a does not hate you,” jesse sighs. “her feelings are just hurt, but you can fix it.”

“and how’s that?” ellie crosses her arms over her chest.

“you’re a smart girl, you’ll figure it out.” jesse grabs the discarded controller from the coffee table and shoves it into ellie’s chest. “now put your all into this next round, i’m still gonna beat your ass.”

neighbor!ellie who’s never felt more nervous in her life.

who’s standing a block away from the café you own with a little gift bag and a bouquet of flowers.

neighbor!ellie who’s used to effortless relationships and casual situationships.

neighbor!ellie who’s scared shitless that she’s making the wrong decision giving in like this, but maybe jesse’s right and you’re just what she needs.

neighbor!ellie whose hands shake the entire walk up to the café.

she sees you with your back turned towards the door, probably doing closing inventory or something of the like with the way you scribble quickly against a clipboard.

you look so in your element with your apron tied tight around the narrow of your waist and perhaps now’s not the appropriate time, but your work pants look exceptionally great spread over the—

“i’m sorry, but we’re closed for the evening,” your voice sounds when ellie opens the front door and the chime tinkles against the glass.

“i’ll make it quick,” ellie says quietly, paper wrap around the flowers crinkling as she shifts on her feet.

you whirl around with wide eyes, almost dropping the clipboard when you find your neighbor standing in the middle of your café.

she looks so good in a fitted brown button up rolled to the elbow to reveal the whorls of ink decorating her forearms and skinny jeans that are way too good at highlighting the muscles of her thighs.

“ellie, what are you doing here?” you ask, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“i was, er, in the area?”

one of your eyebrows raise.

“well, is there something i can help you with?” you ask, eyeing the flowers and the giftbag in what ellie can only read as disdain.

it’s like the day you two first met all over again but the roles are reversed. her lips gape once, twice, then three times as she tries to find the words. but ellie’s never been good at talking about how she feels, at being vulnerable.

“i have to close up,” you prod, tone tired. “and whoever you’re visiting after this is probably waiting.”

the words after are a silent insinuation.

god knows i did.

you’re turning on your heel and ellie knows she’s losing you.

“i like you.” she says suddenly.

you freeze, fist tightening mercilessly around your clipboard.

“that’s not funny,” you say stonily. “you don’t have to make an ass out of me for having feelings for you, ellie. i get it, it’s hilarious that your dorky neighbor has a crush on you, but you don’t have to drag it. i’m—”

neighbor!ellie who’s always thought that you talk a tad too much and sets the gifts on the nearest table before crossing the distance between the two of you.

she’s towering over you and you’re looking up at her with furrowed brows as she pries the clipboard from your fingers and kisses you without another word.

“wait, wait,” you whisper, pulling away from her momentarily.

her lips chase yours, one hand splaying over the small of your back as the other cradles your chin.

“i’m sorry,” she says quietly. “i didn’t—”

“i don’t understand,” you admit. “you…you and your friend were—”

ellie shakes her head vehemently.

“i was being stupid,” she says quickly. “it’s—” she sighs. “it’s a long story.”

“but the night of the tasting,” you start. “you brought someone home…i heard you.”

ellie closes her eyes in defeat, rolls her lips as she presses her forehead against yours.

“it was a mistake, you have to believe me,” she pleads softly. “i was drunk out of my mind and high as hell and—”

she stops talking when she sees the expression on your face, notices the way your fingers hover.

“you have every right not to entertain this,” ellie swallows. “and i know i’ve been awful to you, but i…i really like you 5a.”

your head tilts down and ellie’s leaning forward in an effort to keep the eye contact.

“i’m not good at stuff like this,” she confesses. “obviously.”

you breathe out an involuntary laugh.

“but you’re different, really different,” ellie says. “and you make me feel so fuckin’ weird—”

you flinch.

“a good weird!” she assuages. “it’s good. and i really wanna try things with you if you’ll let me.”

you look hesitant, but ellie’s hopeful and you’ve always been a sucker for green eyes.

18+ BONUS

neighbor!ellie really wanted to take things slow with you after officially winning you over, but she can’t really help herself.

she takes you out a week after your heart-to-heart in your café, a nice restaurant you’d chattered about during your elevator rides to the lobby, and she’d been so close to making it through dinner and keeping it appropriate, but the dessert the two of you ordered had strawberries.

needless to say, when you’d taken a bite into the candied fruit and the juice curved down your jaw and slithered between your cleavage, ellie threw a wad of bills onto the table top and dragged you out of the restaurant.

didn’t make it far, ended up at the edge of the parking lot in the back seat of her car with two of her fingers knuckles deep in your heat while she swallowed your moans whole.

neighbor!ellie who takes you to hers after you cum twice and she tastes you for the first time.

“fuck, angel,” she whispers against your clit. “pussy’s too good.”

the sight is a devastating one, your skirt bunched around your waist and your top discarded somewhere on her bedroom floor.

one of your hands bunches her sheets in your fist, the other threaded through her brown hair as she eats you out like she’s absolutely starved.

“that’s it, princess,” she eggs you on, stuffing her fingers and curling against the walls of your spongy cunt. her tongue is sloppy against your little bud and your dulcet moans are buttery soft, absolute music to her ears.

that night seems to be the straw that breaks the camel’s back because she can’t get enough of you.

especially not when you wear that red and white gingham sundress you’d worn the second time the two of you met.

neighbor!ellie who spends so much time in your apartment now, likes to especially when you’re baking because you wear that stupidly tiny dress in your stupidly tiny kitchen and it takes every ounce of self control to keep her kisses on your exposed shoulders appropriate.

you start kneading the dough and she can’t keep her hands to herself, hooking her jaw into the crook of your neck as her fingers dance under the hem of your dress and ghosts the seam of your thighs.

“y’look so pretty,” ellie hums, tongue darting to lave at the juncture of your jaw and your neck.

“wait, ah!” fingertips trace over your mound and a semi-giddy, semi-disbelieving laugh rumbles from ellie’s chest when she finds you aren’t wearing any panties.

“you’re a dirty girl, angel,” she bites, one arm securing around your waist, the other toying with the slick coating your inner thighs. “what happened to getting work done?”

all you manage is a breathy cry when ellie skips the formalities and taps your clit roughly.

“el—ellie!” you whimper, one of your flour dusted hands wrapping around her wrist as your back arches and your ass presses into her hips.

your body stutters when you feel something nestle between the pert cheeks of your ass.

you throw a surprised look over your shoulder and ellie’s already grinning lazily at you as she continues kissing all over you.

“surprise,” she whispers.

neighbor!ellie who’s so gone. who still constantly gets teased by jesse and her coworkers. who wasn’t willing to admit it at first, but wants absolutely everything to do with you.

neng © 2023

[gold0venice]

Oh my god I have so many thoughts, but I am running on four hours of sleep, so here we fucking go *screaming, sobbing, crying*

1. Determination vs Desperation

I know that Ivan made a very big and impactful decision in the previous round, and honestly I can see that through Till’s expressions during the video. Mizi might have been a symbol of salvation to Till, but Ivan (and his death) was his reason to go ahead, fierce and determined and powerful. However, Ivan’s death is also a testament of momentum as well as desperation. Till is determined and desperate to survive and live. But this is made also absolutely obvious by the appearance of Mizi, which I will get into soon. Anyways, also in sense of colour scheme, Till switches from green to yellow/orange. We have also noticed the pattern of red, orange and yellow with Ivan’s and Ivan vs Till rounds. It’s as much as a homage but also a haunting, “the fiery thrill blazes out to the sky”. It’s like Till’s and Ivan’s memories and their lost future haunt him, and have left him “(leave no) regrets”. Perhaps not leaving with Till? These regrets and memories are both his strength and weakness, but Ivan gave him the will and reason to fight back. In this way, Till also seems to be wearing a branded armband of his segyen (sorry if it’s misspelt 😭). In a way he is literally playing the game like Ivan did.

At the same time, these are very bright, memorable and fierce colours that stand out, which made me (sadly) believe he would survive. This is also a contrast to the blues and violets of Luka, which are more mellow, but we soon see it is a growing determined movement. It is mellow because it is unassuming, and this sneaks up on Till twice, when Luka imitates Ivan. In a way this is sadly ironic, as Ivan never thought he would be a traumatic point for Till (lmao babe said what to Sua???), but that pain was exploited anyways by Luka 😭👋🤧

2. Musician’s choice

Till playing the guitar in this video made me blush (please don’t judge me, I love him so much), but more than that I love the implications of the instruments here. Firstly, both Till and Luka play strings instruments. The violin is classical, the guitar here is electric. They are already in juxtaposition with genres (and personalities lol), but they are still strings (singers for the competition), and fit together very well. You could say that the instruments resemble and are metaphors for Luka and Till. What I most like about this scene is that it is more like a battle between music prodigies, which was very exciting, because we have never seen these two interact before.

While both Luka and Till are amazing and well recognised artists, you can see the differences that separate them. Luka is all out confident, in control and powerful vocalist. Till is the same, but there is sense of desperation and a crippling anxiety, even as he plays the guitar. It looks like a fake confidence as much as a hidden fear. Both instruments work well together but the musicians are in different positions. I also have an inkling that Luka picked the violin on purpose. It is a contrast to Till’s already seen powered playing with his guitar in his round, but we have never seen Luka playing the violin, which gives the element of surprise, and a first step to shake up Till.

3. Grief on Stage

Alien Stage is merciless. Luka himself is a result of this system as a merciless manipulator. Luka imitating Ivan is terrible, and also turns on Till’s not fully registered trauma from Ivan’s death. Ivan is haunting Till, even after his death, and it has been clear for quite a while that Till actually cares for Ivan quite a lot. About haunting, figuratively and literally, Ivan’s red pupils resembles the red glare of the camera that follows Till in all his moments, his strength and weaknesses. The same red is reflected in Till’s pupils, which is so funny (I am in tears) because it really emphasises the pressure, stress and panic, but also letting go because it’s overwhelming him. Till’s pain and grief is an open wound that he tried to patch up too fast, and now it’s bleeding out and over the bandage.

The song title and lyrics also play into this idea as “in a blink gone” is quite literate. Till blinks and Ivan is shot. Till blinks and Ivan dies. It’s the shock of his death, and adrenaline that makes his body language so interesting in this round. Here in this scene Till is hunching over in pain and grief and haunting, and Ivan (masqueraded by Luka) acts into this. A well imitated Ivan with no look of love or adoration or even obsession, an empty shell, that Till falls into, relaxing for a second into the touch, just a for a second, “don’t miss the moment” . Till falls into a cobweb that he can’t get out of (maybe he doesn’t want to)

4. Death on Stage

Now to the part that made my heart blow up. In Alien Stage there are only winners, losers and those who manage to get away. The thing about Till’s death that made our hearts stop and my legs to give out is that Till was actually close to be one of those who got away. Till sees Mizi in the audience (also noticed the detail of the red glare becoming pink?) and he immediately jumps back into focus. He was almost there, just for one second. It is tragic and unfair and depressing. Till becomes a loser in the game on stage, one among the countless victims and dead in Alien Stage. Mizi actually had a chance to be his incarnate salvation, his saviour, but time gets away from them, “the clock goes tick tock tick tock blink, gone”. Mizi was there to catch him, she was reaching out to him, ready to get him away. It’s too late, in a blink he is gone in front of her like Sua.

5. Time and Winners in Alien Stage

Now, there are clear winners in the rounds, but in the long term of it, there are no winners. You can’t win. Mizi tries to win the game by saving Till, but Alien Stage wins, because it needs a winner and a loser. His death is like an afterimage of Sua’s death. Mizi getting saved by the rebels is out of luck and element of surprise. Till not getting out was intentional and foreseen by Alien Stage. In our case it as foreshadowed by All-in,covered by Till. The green splatter of paint (or should I say blood?) was a clear indication as well as the red taped name on his neck.

Till does not get freedom until after death. Till, Ivan, and Sua manage to escape the system only in death. None of them had enough time to actually live, they have always been on borrowed time. The “leave no regrets” also heart wrenching. So yeah the title ‘Blink gone’ plays into the idea of death and morals very well. Mizi is left last standing. Mizi’s friends are dead, they are gone in a blink.

[ggukiepie]

one of your girls (pt. 2) (jungkook x reader)

we go 'round again, we jump back in bed that's what you do when you love somebody these bad omens, i look right through them that's what you do when you love somebody bad omens by 5sos

pairing: jungkook x fem oc

tags: smut, angst, fluff, fuckboy!jk, fwb rel, oc is...she thinks with her heart <//3, college au, jungkook is sus and a bit mean but is oc any better ? hmmmm

warnings: kissing, fingering, protected sex, mirror kink, backshots wooo but make it romantic, light choking, multiple orgasms, a little bit of aftercare, cuddling :o

word count: 6k

a/n: weeeee part 2 is finally here !! sorry this took so long yall. i have two more parts to release for this series (flashback then part 3). anw happy reading !! uhhhhhh the ending..dont scream at me :D / part 1 / drabble i (flashback)

taglist: @yuwaimo @haileycannotcometothephonern @hoseokteardrop @hoodrejects @agrika @joonwater @moonchild1

..••°°°°••..°°••....••°°..••°°°°••..

It's sunny today which calls for hanging out at the quad. It's what you and your friends usually do to take advantage of the rare warm days. Jihyo's busy bickering with Mingyu, you don't know what they're really talking about because you're busy re-writing your notes. You haven't seen Jimin yet but he texted the group chat saying he's just buying food. And Jungkook...well you don't know if he's going to show up today. You haven't talked to him since that night. It's just been three days anyway.

You feel someone sit down beside you and you notice it's Jimin. He's wearing those skinny jeans he loves so much because he says it makes his ass look nice. You roll your eyes every time he mentions that.

"Cool guy alert," Mingyu suddenly calls out. You whip your head up to stare at Jimin who's wearing the biggest pair of sunglasses you've ever seen, it's covering half of his face already.

"Too sunny for you, Jiminie?" Jihyo teases this time.

You all watch Jimin silently as he removes the sunglasses. His left eye is bruised and it's ugly and purple and almost black.

"What the fuck," Jihyo says to break the silence. "What happened to you?"

Jimin doesn't say anything yet, just simply fixes his hair and shakes his head. You can tell he's trying not to get angry because his jaw is clenched.

"Jimin?" you whisper.

"It was Jungkook," he says gruffly. Your heart stops again at the mention of his name. Why would Jimin and Jungkook fight? Their friendship is pretty solid and they always get along well. You've never seen them annoyed at each other.

Your eyes flit to Mingyu and you think he knows what happened because he's silent, no hint of surprise on his face. He's looking down at the table while playing with his food.

"You guys never fight," Jihyo interjects. "What happened?"

Jimin turns to face you and you suddenly think you know why. You don't want to say it yourself but you think you've got an inkling why Jungkook punched him. You just hope you're wrong.

"You need to talk to him," Jimin tells you, completely ignoring Jihyo's question. You nod silently and check your phone to see if Jungkook has texted you at all. Of course he hasn't. Typical. But you'll find him today. You don't know exactly what went down but Jimin telling you to find him confirms your suspicions. It's enough to get you mad, your body heating and tensing up in simmering anger. You don't mind what Jungkook does to you, how he hurts your feelings without intending to, how he treats you like you're some disposable object, like you're just there always on the sidelines waiting for him. What you can't tolerate is Jungkook bringing both your friends into your situationship. What goes on between you and Jungkook should stay between you both and that's it. You can't handle him hurting Jimin as well.

There are a few places where you think Jungkook might be. You walk to the cafeteria first and search for him in the crowd. He's not there so you head to the library instead and your heart drops the moment you see him talking to some girl.

"Hey," you practically shout, suprising the people in the library and yourself as well, even. You're usually never this angry. Never address someone in such a venomous way. But you can't help but feel irked at what Jungkook's done.

He looks back and his eyes widen at your angry form. It only lasts for a second before he smirks and walks closer to you.

"Yeah?" he says, all smug and cocky.

"We need to talk."

Then you turn around and start walking out of the library, could hear Jungkook walking behind you already. Girl he was talking to all forgotten.

Surprisingly, you end up at his place.

You walk into his living room, ignoring him when he tells you to take a seat on the couch.

"Did you punch Jimin?" you ask right away, wanting to get this stupid issue over with.

You watch as his jaw clenches, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. He looks at you for a moment, eyes in slits at your hostility. "And what if I did?"

"What the fuck was that, Jungkook?" You look at him with stern eyes and could tell he's angry as well, chest rising up and down in quick breaths.

"Don't mess with my friends," he says.

"Jimin is my friend too!" you retort. "What happens between me and Jimin has nothing to do with you."

"Just—"

"Just what, Jungkook?" you cut him off. "You had no right to punch Jimin like that. Why'd you even do it in the first place?" You place your hands on your hips as you wait for him to answer you, puffing out a breath in frustration.

He looks a bit lost, eyes darting from side to side to look for an answer. The longer the silence goes, the shorter your patience gets.

"Well?" you prompt.

"Just don't, alright?" he says lamely. You roll your eyes. "You can sleep with anyone else except—"

"Who the fuck gave you the right to tell me who I can and can't sleep with?" You're almost screaming now but you don't care. This push and pull with Jungkook is making you so angry you want to punch him. You walk up to him and shove at his chest but he barely stumbles back. It just angers you even further. "I don't even give you shit when you sleep with other girls!" You continue pushing him back, practically punching his chest now. "It's not like you agreed to be exclusive. You said it yourself that you still wanted to fuck around. That was the agreement."

Jungkook grabs your wrists to stop you from pushing him. You watch him clench his jaw as he makes eye contact with you. "What if I want to take back what I said?"

"What?" you mumble dumbly, all the fight leaving your body.

He lets go of your wrists and takes a step back. You watch him pace back and forth in his room. "What if I want us to be exclusive?"

You say the first thing that comes to mind. "You're lying." He must be. He's just trying to lure you in, get him on your good side again.

He looks at you dead in the eyes and it seems like all the anger and frustration is leaving his body as well. He looks defeated and tired, and you're sure you look the same. "I'm not. I never lie to you."

"You do, Kook," you say quietly. But you're not saying it to make him feel bad. You're simply saying it because it's the truth and both of you know that.

He sits down beside you on his bed and buries his face in his hands. You watch him and try to keep your tears at bay.

"Kook, if this is some sick joke—"

"It's not," he says all of a sudden. "What if I want us to be exclusive?" he tries again.

You don't like it when he looks at you like that. Like you matter to him. Like he actually cares. Like he feels the same way as you. Looking into his eyes is too much so you turn your head away and stare at the wall instead.

"Why?" you whisper.

"Because..." he tries. "Because—"

"Because what, Kook? Suddenly you don't like the idea of me sleeping with other guys? But you can sleep with other girls? And if I say yes to you, what'll happen then?" you say harshly. "Huh? You're gonna forget about me? Just use me whenever you want?"

"It's not like that, sweetheart." He tries grabbing your hand but you shake him off. You stand up and walk to the other side of the room, suddenly wanting to be away from him. Being near Jungkook clouds your senses and makes you act irrationally.

"Don't call me that." You feel your lips trembling and you're pretty sure tears are streaming down your face. "I don't know what you want from me, Jungkook. You can't even explain why you want us to be exclusive."

He mirrors your expression, big doe eyes suddenly teary as well. "I'm sorry," he chokes out. It stays silent after that. You nod to yourself. Maybe this is the best explanation you'll get. You gather your things and mumble a goodbye. You exit his bedroom and Jungkook doesn't chase after you. At this point you don't expect him to anymore. You bump into Mingyu and Jihyo upon exiting Jungkook's apartment. They call out to you but you ignore them and speed walk out of the building.

Your heart hurts. Like, it physically hurts. You know you should feel happy with what Jungkook's just told you. It's what you wanted ever since you fell for him. But why are you pushing away? Why don't you want to believe him all of a sudden?

Because you used to. Believe him, that is. Used to look at him all starry eyed with whatever he said. Said yes to whatever he asked. Looked at him like he can achieve world peace. Something stupid of the sort. Wore your heart on your sleeve every time you were with him. Even when you weren't, now that you think about it.

You always showed your feelings through your actions. He just showed his feelings through his words.

It's different but it's the same. This time you don't believe him. Stopped believing his words some time ago. Always knew there was some lie beneath his words. Always doubted what he said. Or just brushed it over your shoulder. Never let it settle in the crevices of your heart, which is sadly just filled with him. Him, him, him.

Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook.

You should feel sorry for yourself for how much he's changed you without even trying to directly. You never thought you'd have to change yourself for a man. But here he is, making you doubt him and the world. You were never like this before.

You thought love was easy. That if it was the right person, everything would fall into place naturally. You didn't know love would be like this. That you'd always be cautious, always had your walls up, looking over your shoulder. That you had to fight for love, or that it hurt so much you found difficulty in breathing.

But is Jungkook the right person?

It's not something you want to answer yourself, because you'll get hurt either way. You just brush the thought aside like you do with your feelings.

You don't go back to your apartment because you know Jihyo thinks it'll be the first place you go to. Will barge in your room because she has a spare key. Is confrontational and protective of you like that, she'll ask questions right away.

But you don't want to think of what just transpired. You want to forget. Move on. Not sure if that means moving on from Jungkook entirely (you doubt you ever will) but you just want to forget about today.

So you keep walking. No destination in mind, you just let your feet walk you to wherever. Away from campus. Walking through some random park. Eventually, you end up at a Korean BBQ. Don't realize the meaning this place holds till you're seated. It's Jungkook's favorite restaurant. He brought you here twice.

Now you're here alone. You start feeling pathetic. Who the fuck goes to a restaurant like this alone? You scan the area—you see couples, friends, families eating together. But you're alone which means you have to grill the meat alone. Serve yourself. Eat by yourself.

You order two bottles of soju. Might as well be drunk while looking pathetic.

You think you've made a good decision. The food is good and you're doing everything yourself so you have no time to think about other things. Or people. Person.

You flip the meat only to see that you've flipped it too early. It's not properly cooked yet. Jungkook always knew when to flip it at the right time.

You sigh. That was what, twenty minutes of him being out of your head? At least it's progress. Somewhat.

After a while you decide you can't inhale anymore food. You'll probably explode. But a happy tummy is a happy heart. Or whatever people say. You're drunk, can't think straight. You're drunk but not stupid, so you ask Jihyo if she can pick you up.

She simply replies otw and is outside the restaurant ten minutes later. She comes in full force—which is really just Mingyu and Jimin with her in the car. It's Mingyu's car, anyway, so you expected to see him. You don't know why Jimin's with them, but you don't mind. Seeing your group of friends eases the ache in your heart even more. Even though one person's missing.

You don't mind. Well, just a little.

You smile at them as you walk to the car while Jihyo runs out of it to give you a big hug. She doesn't say anything as she rubs your back soothingly and you don't cry on her shoulder like you normally would. You're too tired of crying. Being sad.

You don't say anything as the both of you get back in the car. They don't ask about what happened and for that you're grateful. You don't want to process it yet, anyway. Don't think there's much to process. You love Jungkook and he doesn't love you back. Simple.

Your friends fill in the quiet pretty well. Jimin goes off on some tangent. You don't really know the topic. But Jihyo's interjecting from time to time. Mingyu makes a joke and it has all of you laughing. Eventually you get to Jimin's place. It's the usual hangout spot. A one bedroom apartment with a nice balcony. Not too big but not too small either. Just right for the four of you.

Usually five.

You don't know what transpired after you left Jungkook's place. How Mingyu and Jihyo saw you running out with tears down your cheeks. You don't know and you don't ask. You all watch a movie together. All fall asleep in Jimin's living room. Will complain about your backs hurting the next morning but you don't care. It's nice to be around them.

You leave Jimin's place the morning after. You, Mingyu and Jihyo leave because Jimin shoos all of you out. Says he has an exam to study for. He'll probably complain about it during lunch. Tuesdays are reserved for lunch with each other. Out on the quad, if it's sunny enough. In the cafeteria otherwise. You're not sure if Jungkook will show up. You doubt he will.

Mingyu and Jihyo walk you home. You shower and get ready for class. You move as if you're on autopilot. Shower. Get dressed. Get the right textbooks. Lock your door. Walk to class.

You put yourself in this bubble, in this false sense of security that things are ok. You'll be okay. You've been through a lot and you're still here standing, breathing, living. This? This is nothing.

You just have to give yourself time. Have to push your feelings away. Out of sight, out of mind. Don't think it works like that when it's about your feelings. Whatever. Your heart will mend itself back to place.

But what makes a heart whole? It's people, mostly. It's your friends. Your family.

Jungkook.

Always gonna be Jungkook.

And you're back at square one.

..••°°°°••..°°••....••°°..••°°°°••..

jk (sent two weeks ago): can we talk?

jk (sent one week ago): hi

jk (sent one week ago): can we talk pls?

jk (sent five days ago): y/n?

jk (sent three days ago): im so sorry, y/n. i just want to talk. please.

..••°°°°••..°°••....••°°..••°°°°••..

It's been two weeks since the incident and your group hasn't been complete ever since. Either Mingyu and Jihyo are with Jungkook, or with you. Things are starting to change for the worse, and it's making you sad.

At least Jimin and Jungkook have made up already. You don't know the details exactly (because you didn't ask), but you've heard that they've started hanging out again.

You and Jungkook?

You haven't replied to any of his texts. You haven't seen him for two weeks. It's weird. It feels like there's something wrong, something off. Like there's a small pebble in your shoe. Like there's a nagging voice in your head telling you to go back home because you forgot to unplug your straightener.

Like you're missing a piece of you. This hole in your chest that leaves you feeling empty.

You miss Jungkook. And not just the sex. You also miss the friendship. The intimate moments.

You don't have the courage to ask about him, to text him back or look for him. Frankly, you're still hurt from what transpired and you think you might just break if he hurts you again.

It's even raining today. The cold and gloomy weather dampens your mood even more. You baked cookies to try to cheer you up. You used to love baking but haven't done so in a while, you're not really sure why. But you needed an extra pick me up today.

You're holding the tupperware of cookies close to your chest when you walk in the cafeteria, looking for your friends. You always bake extra for them—love the looks on their faces when Jihyo counts all the cookies first and divides it accordingly, when Mingyu gets more than what he should have, when they all fight over the last piece.

When Jungkook would ask if you had extra cookies back at your place.

You don't think that'll happen anymore.

You spot your friends by a table in the corner of the cafeteria, next to a large window where the rain hits it outside in a steady patter.

You see Mingyu who's taking to Jimin, Jihyo typing something on her laptop.

And there's the missing piece, beanie-clad head hung low, tattooed hand busy writing on his notebook.

You feel your heart lurch in your chest. You stop walking, not minding that you're blocking the way.

You take deep breaths to calm your nerves. You have to see each other at some point. And also, you don't want your friends to feel awkward anymore.

You continue walking again and because the universe wants to torture you even further, the only available seat left is right across Jungkook.

"Hi," you chirp, trying to sound as cheery as you can as you sit down. Mingyu, Jihyo and Jimin all look at you in surprise, then Jimin starts talking about his day to fill in the awkward silence. The three of them try to make things go back to normal. You would've laughed at the looks of your friends' faces (sans Jungkook, because you refuse to look at him) if you didn't feel so nervous.

You join in the conversation as well, not an ounce of sadness shown on your face. You don't want your situation with Jungkook to affect the rest of your friends.

The both of you never address each other directly, but you do feel him looking at you from time to time.

You place the cookies in the middle of the table. Like old times, Jihyo counts all the cookies and tells everyone they can only have three pieces each. Mingyu eats more than three. The three of them fight over the last piece, Jimin proposing that they battle it out through rock paper scissors.

You're laughing at the scene in front of you. Good thing you saved some for yourself back at your apartment.

Amidst the chaos, you feel Jungkook lean over the table to whisper in your ear.

"You got more cookies back at yours?"

Your body stiffens at the proximity. Usually you'd say yes. He'd follow you home, make some small talk while you place cookies in a ziplock for him, then he'd hug you goodbye.

That was before the agreement. It was essentially the same routine when you started sleeping with each other, though of course he'd stay a little bit longer.

You turn your head and look at him for the first time. You will yourself not to cry, to steel your emotions.

He looks so soft, so comfy like he just rolled out of bed. He's wearing a beanie to tame his curls, and he's wearing one of his oversized shirts paired with gray sweatpants.

He smells good too. And you realize that you really, really miss him.

"Yeah," you say just as quietly. You feel your heart lighten, but your head's screaming at you to reject him.

Jungkook doesn't say anything else and neither do you. You wait for your friends to finish eating and once everyone stands up, Jungkook walks to your side. Jihyo looks at you quizzically but you just shake your head, silently telling her not to voice out anything out loud. You say your goodbyes and start walking towards your apartment, Jungkook right beside you.

It's silent. And a little bit awkward. You're thinking of what to tell him, whether he wants to talk about what happened, or he just wants your damn cookies.

You close the door behind the both of you and you immediately walk to your small kitchen, grabbing the container of extra cookies and putting some in a ziplock, like you usually do. You feel from the corner of your eyes that Jungkook's watching you, and you feel like your heart is about to burst at what he might say.

"About that night..." he starts.

You sigh and drop the cookies on the counter, turning to him to look at him directly. For the first time in a while, Jungkook looks nervous. Fingers fidgeting, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"You know I like you, right?" you suddenly say.

"Yeah," he answers right away without a beat of hesitation.

"Then I want to stop whatever it is we have between us."

You watch Jungkook's face for his reaction. How his eyes widen, how he clenches and unclenches his fists, how his chest rises up and down in quick beats.

"Why?" he simply asks.

You bite your lip in thought, thinking of the right words to say. "I can't let you treat me like shit anymore, Jungkook. It's not healthy for the both of us. I don't know how you feel or what you want but look," you sigh. "You punched Jimin because what? Because I slept with him?"

"What if I want us to try?"

Now it's your turn for your eyes to widen, for your heart to lurch in your chest, body seizing at the question. Acting the same way you did when he asked the first time.

"Try?"

Jungkook nods, lips pursed as he walks closer to you. "You and me. Let's try. No more fooling around with other people." He swears under his breath as he comes to stand in front of you, both arms caging you against the counter. He breathes out and rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed like he's tired.

You're tired as well. But you let him do what he wants. Like you always do.

"(Y/N)," he starts to say. "Look, I— The thought of you sleeping with someone else... It made me crazy," he laughs dryly.

You lean back and scrunch your eyebrows at him. "Jungkook, I'm not some object for you to be possessive over. You just can't—"

"I don't mean it like that," he says, looking at you directly now. Your knees would've buckled at the intensity of his gaze were it not for your body leaning on the kitchen counter. "I just mean..." He turns his head to look away. "I just mean I can't bear the thought of you being with someone else anymore. Doing the things we do."

You open your mouth in reply then close it again when you realize you don't know what to say. You've been waiting to hear this confession for so long, but now that you've heard it, you're suddenly not happy. You're unsure. Guarded. Hurt.

"Jungkook," you whisper unsurely.

He turns his head back to you, gaze right on your lips before he locks eyes with you again.

"We can try. Please," he whispers. It's weird seeing Jungkook this way, all vulnerable and desperate. Begging. Usually, you'd be in his position. Not the other way around. "I promise this time."

You feel your resolve slowly crumbling. All the walls you've built up from your last interaction with him come falling down. You should hate yourself, you really should. But you know where your heart lies. What it wants. That you'd take any inkling of love he'd give you. Even if he may not mean it. Even if it might not last forever.

"Okay," you say, and the moment you do, you see the most beautiful smile grace his face. It makes you smile as well, ignoring the little voice in the back of your head to say no. "But we start slowly, alright?"

He nods his head, smile still there, body slowly pressing against yours. He nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck and your arms automatically go around him.

"Kook," you sigh. "We should probably talk first—"

"In the morning, baby," he says in between the kisses he's placing on your shoulder. "I promise."

You play with his hair while Jungkook does what he wants. Kissing your shoulder, your collarbone, up to your jaw. It's playful at first, big smooches echoing in your apartment. Then it starts getting heated the moment you feel his tongue on your skin.

"J-Jungkook," you stutter.

He grips your waist and lifts you up so you're seated on the counter. "You drive me crazy, I hope you know that."

You smile at him and say nothing else as you grab his face towards yours, finally reconnecting your lips with his. It's soft and sensual, no sense of urgency like how you usually kiss. Like how Jungkook had somewhere to be after. Or that he wanted to get it over with.

He's taking his time now by the way his lips mold slowly against yours, like he wants to map out how you taste, how you feel, how your tongue feels like pressed against his.

You stay like that for a while, just kissing and basking in each other's presence. Jungkook holds your waist firmly like he doesn't want to let go. Frankly, you don't want him to either.

You start getting antsy so you grab the hem of his shirt and try to slip it over his head. He laughs at your impatience as you throw the shirt somewhere in your apartment, hands going to his back instantly. Scratching your nails lightly down his skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Then your hands go down to his pants and you start toying with his jeans.

"Sweetheart," he leans back and chuckles. He holds your face gently. "There's no need to rush, okay? We've got all the time in the world."

You lean back as well, exhaling the breath you didn't know you were holding. "Okay," you agree. "Yeah, sorry."

"Let me take my time with you," he murmurs as he leans in again to kiss you.

Jungkook does his take time. Practically kisses every inch of your skin. Takes off your clothing one by one. Fingers you slowly that you're seeing stars. Cleans you up with his mouth that you're left breathless and dizzy. Disoriented. You're both (finally) naked by the time you're in bed.

"Look at yourself, baby," he whispers right into your ear.

His words go in your ear and out the other, head too clouded with the mind blowing orgasm he just gave you. You don't understand what he's telling you to do until he gently grabs your chin and turns it to where he wants you to look. Your eyes spot your full length mirror. You see yourself, bare and sitting on the bed with your legs folded beneath you, thighs open and pussy on display. Jungkook's right behind you in a similar position, body so big and wide that you notice the stark difference of your bodies.

You see your chest heaving up and down, tits moving in sync with your breaths. Your hands are resting on his thighs. Jungkook slithers his arm to wrap around your waist. Finally, you lock eyes with him through the mirror.

"See?" he says, though you don't really know what he wants you to see. "You look so pretty. S'why I can't get enough of you."

"Oh," you breathe out.

"Yeah, oh," Jungkook chuckles lightly. "Gonna fuck you now, okay?"

You nod your head in reply and Jungkook lifts you up a bit to enter you from behind. You gasp when he fills you up right away, a perfect fit like always. He starts thrusting slowly but deeply, and you feel his tip kiss your cervix each time. You would've toppled forward were it not for his protective hold around your waist.

"Feels good," you finally moan out.

"I know, baby," he pants from behind you. "You take me so well. Like you were made for me. Like we were made for each other."

Your heart seizes at that, and all words get stuck in your throat when Jungkook picks up the pace of his thrusts, both hands going to your chest to cup your breasts.

Jungkook presses his chest to your back, practically molding himself around your body, you're starting to feel as one. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, lips on your sweaty skin.

"I might not last long," he grunts.

"Me too," you mewl. It stays silent for a while, just both your breaths filling the room. It's not like you need to say anything, to be vocal like you both usually are. It's different this time and you know Jungkook can feel it too. With the way his body is pressed to yours, to his tight hold on you like you might disappear into thin air if he lets go, how his mouth never seems to leave your skin, how your hand holds his. Like you're too overwhelmed with the events that happened today, the past few weeks—since this started. That it's all coming to an end, but an end with a new beautiful beginning. It feels overwhelming because you're entering new territory. You still have your doubts (you don't think those will ever leave), but at least now you're on the same page with Jungkook. Together. Jumping into the unknown. Even if you're not sure how this will turn out—being together with him, for real this time. If it'll end in greater heartbreak or will be your best decision yet. But you're here because you want to try. You've let him in because you want to try. Because your heart has been with his from the start, you realize.

You're brought back to reality when Jungkook brings his hand up to wrap around your throat—not tightly, a hold barely there but firm enough to know he has you in his hold. You stare at yourself again in the mirror, at Jungkook moving his hips from behind you. How you're so pressed into each other.

"Jungkook," you choke out, suddenly so overwhelmed and full of emotion. His gaze shifts from your body to your face, looking at you through the mirror so intently you feel like melting. You move your hips back to meet his thrusts, your body feeling like it's on fire and that you might snap soon. "Kook, I—"

"I know, baby," he murmured. "I know." Knows that you're close, that this moment feels different, electrifying. "I got you, okay?" he whispers so sweetly. You lean your head back against his shoulder. "Let go for me. Hm?"

"Okay," you whisper, eyes closing and focusing on doing just that. It doesn't take you much longer to reach your peak, to let go and let the pleasure take control of your body. It comes to you gradually, getting stronger and stronger, and Jungkook talks you through it all. Though you can't make out his words since everything sounds so muffled. Like you're under water and the wave's crashed.

"Gonna come too," he grunts. "You're so beautiful when you come, baby. I can't—"

Jungkook reaches his orgasm after and fills up the condom. Fucks you so slow and deep through his high it sets you off once more. Don't realize that his finger is rubbing your clit slowly. Like he wanted you to reach your high again.

"That's it," he whispers. "So good for me."

You almost fall face first on your bed, but Jungkook catches you with a hand around your waist. Moves you around the bed so that you're laying on your back with him right beside you. You curl into him instantly as his arm wraps around your shoulder. He brings his lips to the crown of your head and places a gentle kiss.

You close your eyes and listen to the beat of his heart slowing down, focusing on the rise and fall of his chest. "We need to clean up soon," you mumble after a while.

"I'll do it," he mumbles back. "Let me just— Let me catch my breath first."

You laugh lightly, your body slowly succumbing to sleep. You feel Jungkook stand up and for a second your heart seizes in your chest. You keep your eyes closed while you try to listen for any sounds of clothes being picked up, of him getting dressed.

All you hear is your bathroom door being open then closed, then you feel a damp washcloth between your legs, and only then does your heart start beating again. Jungkook's back beside you in bed a few moments later, and then you finally succumb to sleep.

..••°°°°••..°°••....••°°..••°°°°••..

An alarm wakes you up the next morning. You know it isn't yours since it's not the usual ringtone you use. You open your eyes slowly and smile sleepily at Jungkook's arm draped across your waist. You look back to see him sleeping peacefully, mouth slightly ajar. You reach your arm out to your beside table to look for the noisy phone, realizing it's Jungkook's when you bring it close to your face to turn off the alarm.

You notice he's gotten a few notifications since last night, are about to place it back on your table when a text stands out to you. Waking you up fully. Your tummy churning, your breath seizing.

You can't see the preview of the message, but the name is enough to leave you feeling dizzy.

It's from Iseul. You know her because she's one of Jungkook's regulars. And you know this because she texts him a lot, her name always popping up in his phone. Not that you secretly went through it before, but sometimes Jungkook likes showing his phone to you and your friends, either of a cool photo he took lately or some random meme.

You try to stop your thoughts from thinking of the worst, but you can't help it. You and Jungkook haven't talked much about your relationship, because there is a lot to talk about. You know it won't all be fixed in one sitting. So you don't know if they're still seeing each other. You don't know if he meant what he said last night.

You start feeling ill, your palms sweating and your head beginning to pound. You find yourself standing up, getting dressed and grabbing just your phone with you. Never mind the fact that you're leaving Jungkook yet you're in your place. That he might still be here when you're back, whenever that will be. For the first time since you started this thing with him, you leave without saying goodbye.

[gayelderstourney]

OLD MAN YAOI BRACKET ROUND 1

Propaganda:

Bob Zanotto/Helmut Fullbear:

THEY LITERALLY MADE MR CRY THE FIRST TIME I PLAYED THE GAME. THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH AND THEY FINALLY GET TO BE HAPPY TOGETHER. YOU DONT UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH THEY MEAN TO ME.

they are married in canon and are epic and amazing. they had sad canon events where bob thought helmut was dead for like 30 years or something but helmut WASN'T dead his brain was still alive and they are reunited in the game first by way of stealing an evil dictator's body and then later on they put helmut's brain in a ball as a temporary fix while they go out to find his body which has been frozen in ice. the game forces you to walk through bob's memory of saying his vows at their wedding ceremony and it's seriously some of the most romantic and heartwarming shit i've ever heard, especially "just when i thought i was turning to seed, you made me bloom again" like my god. i love them

they're gay and old as hell!!!! there's a level dedicated to their wedding!!!

Helmut is voiced by Jack Black and is currently a brain in a ball, and Bob knows him so well that the mental image of him in his drunken mind says things Bob KNOWS the real Helmut would never say. Also Helmut is temporarily in the body of a guy voiced by Elijah Wood-

Craig Cuttlefish/DJ Octavio:

well you see they used to be friends but were on opposite sides of the great turf war. cuttlefish gets a 14 year old to go stop octavios army. also they argue in splatoon 3 which is just part of the 100+ year divorce arc BUT AT THE FINAL BOSS IN THE JAPANESE VERSION THEY SHARE THE ICONIC LINE THAT CUES THE CALAMARI INKANTATION AND IN THE ENGLISH CUTTLEFISH TELLS OCTAVIO TO "HIT IT" AND START THE MUSIC AND MUSIC IS SO IMPORTANT TO THE SPLATOON UNIVERSE YAAAAA ik its grasping but its lovers to enemies

Literally I have seen so many people call this old man yaoi.

Old men divorce!!!

They're old men who made their divorce the problem of every young person in their lives <3. 100 years ago during the Great Turf War between inklings and octarians, Craig and Octavio were the chosen ambassadors of their respective species. They got along well, but unfortunately found themselves on opposite sides of the war. During one of the battles Craig shot Octavio in the heart. The inlkings won the war and the octarians were forced underground. For years afterward both men grew bitter towards each other, and eventually Octavio attacked the new Squidbeak Splatoon (a group of secret agents recruited by Craig). Octavio lost both times and got imprisoned in a giant snow globe (and Craig calls him cute). In the latest game Octavio got over his hatred for Inklings (Craig's species) and used his flying mech to help defeat the BBEG of the game. After the final fight, Craig said something to the effect of 'that old rascal turned out to be not so bad!'.

Alright ok hear me out! These two old men have fought in wars for their races against each other and have the craziest pathetic old man homoerotic tension ever. They like, went from at least respecting each other before the war and then they were forced to fight each other and then when Cuttlefish's side won, Octavio went underground like a pathetic lil wet cat and later on he kidnapped Cuttlefish because of game related reasons and both of them still have way too much homoerotic tension!!! And then Octavio gets owned and then in the second game Octavio decides that "Hey actually, lets kidnap Cuttlefish's granddaughter" and the old man isnt even there cause hes busy being a pathetic old man in the under-underground!!! And in the third game they go fron rival/enemies to reluctantly working together to save the world from actual extinction bc some durry bitch wants to cover it in fuzzy ooze and like, both of them have so much old man ship potential and just- theyre still pining for each other even after over a 100 years man,,,,

I personally headcanon Cap'n Cuttlefish as homophobic, but I see the ship a lot and think it's funny.

They’re both at least like 125 probably a bit older, they are so divorced, like peak lovers to enemies back to lovers, Cap’n Cuttlefish calls Octavio cute in Splatoon one immediately after you rescue him from Octavio kidnapping him? So dysfunctional, so gay, so old

They fought in the Great Turf War which was said to be over 100 years ago, Capn Cuttlefish was, well, a captain I believe (he had some sort of rank even if he wasn't a captain, like he led a battle that's singled out in the sunken scrolls of the first game). they act so divorced in the singleplayer mode like they cannot stop insulting each other specifically but octavio always comes back and like kidnaps or insults captain cuttlefish it's so. and when the great zapfish gets stolen in splatoon 3 captain cuttlefish is like "it's the octarians again i know it" like divorced behavior. also it wasn't this time and octavio gets super weird about it. maybe you should stop using children as props in your drama though.

my favorite war crime divorcees <3

They basically are friends to enemies to lovers. Both of them fought in a war that hurt DJ Octavio so bad he can’t become an inkling.

friends -> enemies -> lovers. what more is there to say

they are soooo divorced

they were so gay their breakup ended a war

Craig Cuttlefish got sucked dry by a bear

they got divorced but then they got remarried . they fuckinf hate eachother but they also make out sloppy style and i do not know how that works because neither of them have mouths in their swim form which they are both permanently stuck in. love wins but also loses at the same time with these fucking losers

they are sooo divorced omg. istg they were dating when they were younger and then war n shit happened and now theyre bitter exes who probably still make out sometimes. Makes it so much funnier that theyre old ass men (both over 100!) and Cuttlefish has grandkids

They were on opposite sides of a war and still fell in love

[thebirdandhersong]

y'all aren't ready for my inklings story premise

[themindofachronicdaydreamer]

Suites & Sweets

freshman year at Jujutsu University Tokyo seems like it will be uneventful. and, well, that's true... until you meet the boys in the suite across the hall, and one in particular piques your interest.

satoru gojo x reader | jjk college au | no curse au | fem! reader | fluff, angst, & slow burn | SMAU & writing <3

introduction | next

₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.

ˋ°•*⁀➷˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 1. 𝓗𝓔𝓐𝓥𝓔𝓝 𝓘𝓡𝓛 ⍣ ೋ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ... wc: 2.4k

You hurry to grab your purse and slip your shoes on as Shoko is all but dragging you out of your suite by your arm. Your steps are slightly unbalanced due to her unexpected strength as she tugs you every which way, but with Shoko having been your best friend since you can even remember, this is something you are fairly used to. Lighthearted giggles escape from your core while you and your friends stumble down the hallways to the exit, each of you beginning to feel the effects of the few rounds of shots you took before you left.

The fraternity Utahime insisted on going to, Sigma Pi, is well known by JJU students for having the "hottest guys in the country" (or so she claimed), and who were you to say no to going such a haven? It isn't too far from you, either. The walk is less than ten minutes from your dorm suite and the temperature is the perfect middle-ground between hot and cold, making the stroll there pleasant. The crisp wind tickles your nose as Utahime holds your hand, swinging it back and forth with the energy of a little kid excited to go to the local playground. The two of you skip down the sidewalk in unison until you finally reach your destination.

"We stick together. Alright?" Shoko orders once you are all inside, glaring sternly at each of you so she can establish how serious she is.

"Yes, mom," Mei Mei, who is somehow already borderline drunk (you assume she pregamed your pregame), rolls her eyes. Utahime pats Shoko's back affectionately while you hum in agreement.

"Ugh. One of us has to be one," Shoko rolls her eyes right back at Mei Mei, though it is clearly sarcastic. "

"Drinks?" you query, grinning widely and gesturing to the makeshift bar in the back of the basement you are inside. While you feel a buzz going, you are definitely not against having a drink, and you have an inkling you may need it with how many people are around as alcohol brings out the social side in you.

"Hell, yeah!" Utahime exclaims. She pumps a fist in the air, grabs your hand, and drags you toward the alcohol in the back of the room. You grab Shoko's hand and she grabs Mei Mei's, connecting your group as you weave as one through a maze of people.

The air is hot and sticky and you can tell that your hair is already being affected by the humidity that floods the atmosphere, almost as if walking into the frat was a portal to a completely different climate. Cinderblock walls painted a deep black line your view of the dim room as multicolored, flashing LED lights act as the main source of light. The DJ's music is so loud, you feel as though each cell in your body reverberates with every note that erupts from the speaker. It smells like beer and a hint of sweat, and your feet stick to the ground a bit with every step.

Ah, the glory of college parties.

After what feels like ages weaving through the sea of college students, you finally are at the bar, and Hime requests four drinks of their highest quality, premium jungle juice. She makes a few comments to you about the "bartender"' and his unbuttoned shirt, his torso on full display to the world, to which you smile and agree about the eye candy in front of you. After being handed your red solo cups, you turn to each other and decide to move to a mostly vacant corner to stay out of the way of the bar.

"Oh. My. God. They have beer pong set up! Who's playing with me?" Utahime squeals. You feel her long hair hitting your face with how fast she whips her head around to you, eyes full of eagerness to play the game with someone.

"Nah, I have no coordination," Shoko shakes her head. "Especially when drinking."

"Me neither. That's what makes it fun!" you counter. "I'll play, Hime!"

"Yes! We are the dream team, after all!" she grabs your hand and goes over to the game being played, watching intently to see who wins. Mei Mei and Shoko follow closely behind, and while Mei gets distracted by a few good-looking faces, she hasn't reached her flirty-drunk stage yet, so she only waves or winks at them.

Two guys are playing against two others, and you notice Utahime ogling one with dark eyes and a thin mustache. His team is doing well; they have two cups left to eliminate, the other team needing five. So you take action, always looking out for your girls.

"We'll face the winner," you volunteer, raising the hand that is still holding Hime's to solidify your team.

"Alright. Game on," a tall, muscular man with dark hair and a scar on his lip says. You can smell his ego from the other side of the table, his confidence in winning the game that has not yet finished seeping out of every word he speaks. His smirk is intimidating, but not as much as his abs visible through the tight black shirt that reads ΣΠ.

Sigma Pi. He must be a brother at the fraternity.

You watch as the taller man sinks a ping pong ball into a cup, the other team begrudgingly chugging it down. The mustached one's turn ends in another cup drank by the losing team. Redemption is failed, and Utahime squeezes your hand in excitement as if she's silently saying to you time to play these hot frat boys!

The game goes by quickly with both teams showing great skill. Where you miss one every now and then, the scar-lipped guy across from you has such impeccable aim, you can hardly believe it. He doesn't miss a single shot, no matter how much he drinks or you try to make him mess up.

And that's how you play another round, losing, and another round, losing again. You want to have another try, but Shoko's trying to avoid you waking up with alcohol poisoning, knowing she would be the one scrubbing the bathroom clean afterwards.

"No," you whine. "I gotta win."

"Doll," your arch-nemesis says, having walked toward your side of the table without you even realizing. You turn, and you feel like you are in front of some skyscraper with how tall he is. I mean, it was obvious he's tall, but this tall? He must have had a growth spurt from when you started playing to now or something.

"You okay, doll?" he asks, his smirk showing how clearly he finds your eying up and down of his body humorous. A cough escapes your throat, Shoko being no help beside you and laughing silently to herself at your state.

"Huh?" you finally peep out. "Oh, yeah. Why?"

"You lost pretty badly," he says. "And I hate to rub it in, but I'm the one you lost to. D'you need some comfort?"

"What kind of comfort?" you inquire.

"I dunno, maybe..." he pauses to think, "my number, so I can give you some lessons? Cause ya need 'em, pretty."

You giggle, blushing at his obvious flirting, and nod. "Of course," the words spill out before you can think about them.

"Perfect. Here, type it in," he hands you his phone as he speaks, you typing your number in and Shoko double checking it's right from behind you. "I'm Toji."

Giving his phone back, you smile and say your name loud enough for him to hear through the music echoing in the background. "Text me soon," you add and turn around, which makes you a little dizzy, and Shoko subtly helps you walk to your other friends. Utahime, who had been flirting with Toji's teammate, smiles at you and quickly ends their conversation. Mei, who's with some girl she said was hot earlier (the flirty-drunk is definitely out now), does the same, and the four of you walk up to the bar - much to Shoko's chagrin.

"Four drinks, please," Mei requests, sticking her tongue out at Shoko's groan.

"Ugh. Last ones for these two," she groans, pointing to you and Utahime, whose beer pong games are visibly catching up to.

"Party shitter," Utahime mumbles. You laugh louder than intended, making Utahime laugh too.

“You’ll be thanking me in the morning,” she responds. You and Utahime release exaggerated groans, knowing full well she’s right. 

Mei grabs your fresh drinks, handing off one to each of you. You sip it happily, a smile adorning your face, and observe the crowded basement you’ve found yourself in. You follow Mei Mei, your hand in Utahime’s, over toward the center of the basement and closer to the DJ to dance.

“Hime!” You exclaim, hearing the music change to a familiar tune. “It’s our song!”

“Then let’s dance, baby!” she shouts, holding her drink in the air and shimmying her torso in excitement. 

You copy her actions with semi-coordinated movements, not caring about anything other than the joy that floods your veins from the love you have for your best friends. You can feel that the room is becoming more and more crowded as more people flood in, but you keep on dancing with the music that seems like it’s from some basic “2010s hype party rocking mix” playlist on Spotify. Not that you care - music is music and you just want to dance, so dance you will, even to overplayed house beats. 

"I gotta piss," you groan. "I'll be back!"

"You want me to come?" Utahime asks, but you shake your head.

"Nah, I'll be good," you wave her off. Honestly, you just need a second to yourself, and you know you will be okay on your own. Shoko and Mei are distracted by some girls they met and seem to quickly be becoming friends with, so you leave Hime with them and run off in the direction of the toilets.

You look at your phone to see if anyone has texted you and see one from your mother which you quickly respond to. With the distraction of your phone and your sense of self awareness being almost completely gone due to the alcohol in your system, you fail to notice the wall in front of you and run face first into it.

But, it is no wall. It's a person - you just ran into the back of some random guy.

"I'm so sorry-" you begin, but he turns while your speaking and you completely forget what you are saying the second your eyes meet his.

Blue eyes would be an understatement to describe his. The sky wishes it was such a shade of blue as the color you are gaping at right now. You want to dive into the pool of his irises and swim so far that there is no chance for return, riptides drowning you in their beauty. You swear they are glowing, radiating their icy color and hypnotizing you along with it. He must have some sort of magic power; his eye color feels almost unnatural, too perfect to be true.

You realize you have been staring at this stranger for what is probably an uncomfortably long time for him, and you force yourself to return back to earth and out of the depth of the portal he trapped you in by just a glance. It takes a second, but you finally notice the way his hands have lightly grasped your forearms, as if you are some delicate statue about to fall over and he has been tasked with ensuring your welfare.

"Are you okay?" He asks with a wide smile displaying his perfect white teeth, and you wonder if that was the first thing he's said, since you have been in what feels like another dimension.

"Oh, yeah," you say with a nervous chuckle. "Just distracted, sorry!"

You finally bring yourself to away from his face and at the rest of him. He's wearing a white shirt with baggy dark wash jeans, dirty vans on his feet. His hair is white and messy in the kind of way that it looks intentional and it looks good and you just want to run your fingers through it and his arms look so strong you want wrapped up in them and you just want to poke his muscles and his face is gorgeous and he smells like the most delicious, expensive cologne that you just want to bathe in and he looks like he was sculpted by a Roman God with how chiseled his jaw is and-

"It's really okay. You sure you're good?" He asks again. His face looks more concerned by each passing second.

"Yeah, why?" You try your best to not look like a blushing mess, embarrassed that something as simple as looking at this man has almost brought you to your knees.

"Dunno, you jus' look a lil' flustered."

"Flustered? Me? Oh, absolutely not!" you answer, talking exaggeratedly with your hands and not realizing you've practically thrown all of the contents of your drink onto his white t-shirt. It takes the guy looking down at his white - well, now tie-dyed pink - shirt for you to realize what has happened.

"Oh, fuck, I'm so sorry, let me help," you say, and you attempt to wipe up the jungle juice that has integrated with his shirt by rubbing your hand across his chest, pausing at the feeling of his amazing abs with wide eyes. You attempts to help have only made the new stain worse and this entire situation ten times more embarrassing for you.

"Hey, it's okay, at least it's not vomit," he jokes with a bit of a slur to his words, and you look up at him with a strained smile and tears welling in your eyes.

This has definitely sobered you up.

"Hah, yeah! You're right. Y'know, I've gotta- um, I'm going to run away and never show my face here again. Bye!" you rush out, practically sprinting to the bathroom to escape the dilemma you have found yourself in. You hear him calling after you, but you are too ashamed of yourself to face him again.

You don't breathe again until you sit on the toilet, praying to whatever higher power there is that you never see the angelic, regal, god-like man with his vivid blue eyes ever again. You don't think you or your ego could handle it again, as much as you are attracted to his statuesque figure. You didn't even catch his name, but that would probably have made it worse for you, as now he can remain an anonymous figure in your head, the memory of him haunting you when you randomly remember it a decade from now and cringe at your stupidity.

What a great way to begin the semester.

what is it with yn being speechless in the presence of jjk men (me too tho) lets give a warm welcome to shiu and toji!!!!! WOOOO

i hope you all like this i am so excited for this heeheheh

[es-draws]

what is the dream weight gain scenario for you? it could be solo, with a partner, over a long period of time or a one off event.

My ultimate fantasy is having my partner become completely obsessed with wanting me to fatten her up. And her begging me to see how big I can make her in the next 3 months.

She's at her smallest, with her lean hourglass figure and flat, firm tummy. She weighs and measures herself, whining about how small she is, practically drooling at the thought of watching the numbers creep higher. And then she asks me to feed her as much as she can take.

I dote on her 24/7. I cook her delicious meals and surround her with delectable snacks of every type. She eats them all, eagerly and greedily, making sure to always leave her plate empty. She learns to stuff herself to the brim, stretching and growing her stomach, making sure that every day she can fit just a little bit more than before.

She becomes addicted to growing even more. She asks me to stock up on heavy cream and begs me to feed it to her. She pleads for me to tilt the carton to her lips and leave it there until she's swallowed every drop. She wines and hiccups, moaning as I rub her overfilled belly. She asks if I can feel how taut her stomach is, how much she's filled it for me. She asks if she's been a good girl for eating like such a good piggy.

I don't notice the changes, at least at first. She wakes each morning with her tummy round and bulging, still full from the previous days' meals, only to immediately begin filling it once again. But soon enough they start to show.

Her hips begin to widen. Her thighs grow thicker. Her chest starts to overfill her bras. A crease forms at her waist, the first inkling of a newly-formed roll. But slowly, her firm, round belly begins to soften. I begin to feel a plush, supple layer of fat under my fingertips. Her stomach begins to bounce and jiggle with every move. Thick love handles begin to bulge from overtop her outgrown underwear. She grows quickly, until the truth can no longer be denied. She's gotten chubby.

She gains 10 pounds in the first week, and 7 pounds the next. By the end of the first month she's already pushing 150 pounds.

She can no longer button her pants, so she abandons them completely. I watch her strut around in her overstretched underwear, shirts riding up her rounded belly, continuing to snack in absolute bliss. She pinches and squeezes her newfound fat, jiggling her tummy proudly as if to tease me. She tells me the sight of her chubby body only makes her more turned on, and that only makes her want to eat more.

By now the deadline no longer matters. She has become hopelessly addicted to making herself fatter. She never wants this bliss to end. And as I watch her grow bigger and bigger, in endless ecstasy with each added pound, I realize I couldn't imagine anything better than this.

[thatanimewriter]

EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE ALL AT ONCE.

➳ synopsis: the boys can't help but micromanage the catering at their wedding and he really needs to just sit down and enjoy his special day

➳ character/s: yukihira soma, tsukasa eishi

➳ warnings: swearing (soma), cameos of other cast members, could be taken as platonic or romantic, ryo wants to be husband material

➳ notes: i just think they'd never let someone take care of cooking at their own wedding without coming over to check to make sure everything is perfect, so here are some short ficlets

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 / 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭  / 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 / 𝐰𝐢𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

── 𝐘𝐔𝐊𝐈𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐀.  

he knows his dad won't royally fuck up his wedding (he thinks) but there is an inkling of anxiety when he's reminded of his disgusting creations, especially when his dad got up to do his little speech. it's not like his dad was the only chef for tonight, ryo and hayama had also joined the fray, perhaps to honour their previous victory as the top 3 at the autumn elections.

"stop hovering," joichiro grumbled, seasoning the meat at his work station. "you're supposed to be sitting down with your partner, go do that."

soma whined in response, reaching to grab a knife but got his hand slapped away. "what if you serve something gross?"

"i won't, i won't."

"soma!" you called, arms crossed. "you asked them to cater, let them do their thing," you said, pulling him away from the kitchen.

he sighed as he was dragged along, but called out to his dark-haired companion before he was forced out. "i can cook better than you, i'm married and you're not!"

"HUH?!"

"even hayama got married before you," he continued, a mischievous grin glued to his lips.

"I'LL CATCH THAT BOUQUET AND SHOW YOU I'M HUSBAND MATERIAL!" ryo yelled, earning a cackle from soma as he ran back into the reception hall.

── 𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐀𝐒𝐀 𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈.

they say old habits die hard, and that certainly is the case for tsukasa. shuffling his way to the kitchen, he twiddled his thumbs as he watched his elite ten cohort churn out dishes with knitted brows and a trembling gaze.

"tsukasa, you're the one who stopped us from having fun at your wedding, at least let us do our job," rindou teased, searing the meat in her pan.

he gasped in horror, "you're not having fun? should i have asked someone else to do it? what if the others aren't having fun? what if people are only here because they felt bad-"

"come back to the reception hall, tsukasa, people want to talk to you and congratulate you," you stated, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "they've got it covered, you know these people are good."

"ok..." he mumbled, timidly walking away.

"oi, tsukasa! you owe us a round of drinks after we're done here!" rindou called, a cat-like grin on her features.

"ah, please don't get drunk at my wedding!" he cowered, immediately running back to the kitchen.

"you're being a bad husband by leaving your spouse alone," she joked, shaking her head in faux disappointment.

"am i?!"

"yup," you confirmed, gripping his hand and dragging him back into the reception hall as he fretted over his capabilities as a husband.

[leixo-demo]

any tips on how to draw in the splatoon style?

Ive been trying over and over to answer this question but i simply can't, cus i dont know how i make stuff, i did 2 tutorials in the past and they are simply me going "yeah you just go black in your mind and then come back and boom!" I tried to film myself a few times but still it's simply me zoning out filling a canvas of millions of sketches and then just drawing and drawing. There's no step by step thing, I simply just go BRBRBRBRBBRR and like adding really REALLY specific details and then BRBRBRBBR.

I tried hard, to think, why I make it accurate, I honestly tried for over 4 years to do splatoon looking art before i even opened this account, especially for commissions or doing more splatband art, people can give you feedback and if you're good enough they'll pay you.

I really came to think I was the best to just hate the art i did 3 days after, I did the "pufuu" moment trying to fake leake art or something and you can really put there if ppl is 1) so desesperated for new art 2) youre good at it

Then I tried to think, well did i studied the style? Yesss,,, at the begining, then i starts to differ as different artists besides Inoue, and his style also develops, so basically as long it fits,,

These 3 drawings just look complely different from each other and still it simply makes them more unique.

"But then how you make it splatoon?" You simply can't, cus it is not just one person, there is a lot, make it your own, give it your own twist, but, what about brushes, THATS what gives the style... right?

MogaChumu, on devianart

this art LOOKS officinal, but it isnt, thre's barely any rough edges like in original, there's some shading but it is not like in the original

is it the anatomy? neither, you can clearly see how they change every time how they draw inklings, sometimes the draw eyebrows in place, sometimes they round the faces sometimes they color pink they mouth despite the ink color. IT IS NOT JUST ONE PERSON.

I can't really give you more than this. As I mentioned in other posts, I use clip studio paint, my brushes were made by myself 4 years ago. If you have a hard time making your own there's (again) pufuu's brush set for procreate: https://x.com/pufuulive/status/1427743911708143617?lang=bn

the same but for psd and csp: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/15Ib-jyvKxIDi0um0FnX3LcBet6m1pym3

and if you use another program just search for "Splatoon brushes" and go to the image tab, ive seen brushes uploaded in devianart for paint tool sai and for ibis paint. I just searched for splatoon tutorials and I found this saved: https://www.tiktok.com/discover/how-to-do-splatoon-art-style

Here's one of my videos if you can take anything and analyse it better than me, I'm sorry I can't really give you anything better,

[television-overload]

of our own making: beginnings

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 1/2 - puzzle pieces

[Read on AO3]

A/N: True to my word (for once) here's a fic set in my "of our own making" universe, picking up right where we left off in the chapter before the epilogue! If you haven't read "of our own making," you might be a little lost, but I can't stop you from reading it anyway. The second part will be posted tomorrow <3

This is it, the thing she’s scarcely allowed herself to hope for. Mulder—all of him. As a friend. As a partner. As a husband. Now, a lover. 

Her family.

“Your brother’s an idiot,” he says into her mouth, startling a huff of a laugh out of her before he devotes himself entirely to the kiss, giving his utmost care and attention to the fullness of her bottom lip.

She smiles and pulls back just long enough to look at him, his shining, tear-filled eyes and radiant grin making her stomach do somersaults.

“Shut up, Mulder,” she says, cupping his face between her hands.

His fingers brush her tears away, leaving only happiness in their wake.

And she kisses him again.

-.-.-

His awareness of his surroundings, at the moment—though usually rather fine-tuned—is limited only to the soft lips beneath his own, and the echo of I love you, too in his ears. He almost doesn't hear the crescendoing whimpering sounds coming from out in the hall, but she does.

“I guess we should have known that was coming,” she says with a small smile, brushing his hair from his forehead and settling her hand over his cheek to stop him.

At some point, they had wound up reclined on the bed, her hair fanned out over the pillow behind her. His head falls limply into the crook of her neck in defeat, as if he could hide there for just a moment more before their daughter’s complaining turns into full-blown tears.

“Maybe if we stay quiet, she'll…” He trails off, freezing in place. Scully follows suit, turning her ear to the door that sits ajar. It's silent. They wait, neither daring to make a move as they listen to see if the noises will continue, but they don't. It stays blissfully quiet as they both subconsciously hold their breath. The interruption gives him an idea.

“Hey, Scully,” he whispers after a moment, pressing a tentative kiss to her lips, as if testing to see if one tiny peck on the lips might disturb whatever peace their daughter is currently enjoying in her bouncy chair in the hall. “What do you think of me doing some redecorating in my room?”

He runs his hand up her side in a gentle motion, then back down, repeating this pattern like it’s second nature.

“Mm,” she hums, lost in the sensation of his touch. It's new, but at the same time, it's as old as their trust in each other. It’s been there from the very beginning, from the moment his fingertips grazed her back and declared her markings to be mosquito bites.

“I'm thinking some light pink for the walls,” he continues, looking at her intensely to gauge her response.

This gets her attention. “Pink, Mulder?” she asks, a crease appearing between her brows. He resists the urge to smooth it with his lips, laughter bubbling in his chest.

“Yeah,” he says, beaming down at her. “And I've heard they make these tiny little beds for babies. Cribs, I think they're called?”

Now, his meaning cannot be mistaken. He watches Scully's face as her brain connects the pieces of the puzzle, and her expression turns to one of surprise. “Mulder—”

“I mean, if you don't have any objections, that is,” he says, walking back his offer just a little. Has he been too forward? Too presumptive? The last thing he wants to do is overwhelm her. If she needs her space—

“Mulder…” she repeats his name again. And then she's pulling him close, her arms wrapped around his neck. He settles on his side on the bed, pulling her with him and not letting go. She buries her face in his chest, and he has an inkling that her motive might be to conceal another round of tears.

“Is that a yes?” he asks, grinning into her flaming red hair.

She springs another kiss on him in answer, and his heart gives a flutter.

This time, the cry from the hall is sharp, and Scully pulls back again, leaving Mulder to chase her lips as she grudgingly separates herself from his embrace. 

“I have a catalog you can look at in the cabinet,” she says as she gets up from the bed, discreetly wiping a tear from her eye as her lips curl up in a smile. “No hot pink. And no Teletubbies.”

She walks backwards slowly through the door, her eyes never leaving his. As soon as she's out of his sight, Madeline’s cries instantly quiet. 

Mama's here, baby girl. 

Mulder flops back onto the bed, an irrepressible smile adorning his face as he stares up at the ceiling. He can still feel the imprint of her lips on his, her hands in his hair, on his cheek. 

He wonders if he should send Bill a thank you card. Scully’s phone still lays where they had left it on top of the bed spread, mercifully silent.

He knows they haven't heard the last from the eldest Scully sibling, but they have at least earned a brief period of peace.

She loves him, and he loves her. And what everyone else thinks? 

Well, he doesn't particularly care.

-.-.-

Stepping out of Scully’s room feels like entering a parallel dimension. Fifteen minutes ago, he was a man desperately in love with his best friend, silently pining for her while coparenting the child they had adopted together. Now, things have changed. He’s seeing everything in a whole new light. There’s a lot still to be defined, yes, but things are different. Noticeably so.

That’s not his best friend over there feeding the baby a bottle. Well, it is, but it’s also his wife, who it turns out also loves him. Go figure.

There’s a photo of their wedding on the mantle. They put it there for when the representative from the adoption agency came to do a home visit, but she’d kept it up. That meant something, now that he knew. Now that the truth behind their fake relationship had been revealed, and it wasn't as fake as he'd thought.

She smiles at him as he comes to sit beside her on the couch, neither of them saying a word. He gets the sense that she’s thinking along the same lines as him, wondering what this will mean for the plans they have made. Nothing has to change, does it? Some part of him had always hoped they would end up here, he just didn’t think it would be so soon.

Starting something like this with lifelong ramifications is scary enough on its own. To do it while sleep deprived and in the midst of the biggest life change he’s ever experienced is crazy—although it’s no different than the typical Mulder and Scully level of crazy, he supposes. They’ve always done things in their own way. It wouldn’t be them if it wasn’t.

“Are you—?”

“Have you—?”

They both start speaking at the same time, chuckling awkwardly when they realize what they’ve done.

“You go first,” Scully says, her cheeks reddening as she glances down at Maddie to avoid eye contact.

He clears his throat. “Have you thought about calling Charlie?” he asks, forcing the words from his lips. The last call with a Scully hadn’t gone well at all, obviously, but he has higher hopes for the youngest. It’s the right thing to do, and they’ve already waited longer than they should have. They can’t keep putting it off forever.

“I’d be surprised if he hasn’t already gotten an earful from Bill,” Scully answers, a frown appearing on her lips. He drapes an arm over the back of the couch, his fingers coming to rest on her shoulder, massaging there lightly. “Could you burp Maddie?” she asks, starting to pass the baby off to him. “I’ll go get my phone.”

He holds Madeline by the armpits, carefully transferring her to his chest as he watches Scully get up and leave. “You don’t have to do it right this second,” he calls across the room, beginning the steady rhythm of pats on the baby’s back.

“No, you’re right,” she says, breezing back into the living room. “I want to talk to him. Now’s as good a time as any.” Before he can say another word, she’s already dialing his number, curling up with her legs crossed on the cushion beside him.

He feels like an intruder on the upcoming conversation, though he knows he’s almost certainly welcome. And after how the talk with Bill Jr. had gone, he’s not about to leave her to face this by herself again, though he doubts they’ll have a repeat performance of what had happened before.

She sits so close to him, he can feel the warmth of her body. He can hear with perfect clarity when Charlie’s voice comes across the speaker.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Charlie.”

“Hi, Dana.”

On his shoulder, Maddie lets out a burst of air, relaxing into his hold. Scully flashes him a small smile.

“So,” Charlie continues, the silence lasting just a little too long.

“I have a feeling you know why I’m calling,” Scully starts, her posture growing tense. “Has Bill spoken to you?”

Her fears are confirmed in the sigh that comes across the line next.

“Yeah. Yeah, he has,” he answers.

Scully settles back into the cushions of the couch, her shoulders slumping. “Charlie–”

“I've been wondering since Christmas what you guys were actually up to,” he says, just the barest hint of laughter in his tone of voice. “I feel like I can die happy now finally having an answer.”

She sighs, running a hand over her face in relief that he seems to be joking rather than taking it the way Bill had. “Well, don't do that. Your niece would like to meet you.”

“Niece, huh?” he asks. “Nice. Bill couldn't even tell me her name, if you can believe that.”

Mulder could. Mulder could definitely believe that. His heart broke for Scully. 

“It’s Madeline. Maddie,” she answers.

Mulder wonders what time it is, wherever Charlie is. He sounds tired. But then, so would Mulder if he’d just had an exhausting conversation with Scully’s older brother, so he really couldn’t fault him for that.

“Please tell me you gave her Mulder's last name,” Charlie pleads. “That would really send Bill over the edge.”

Scully bites back a smile, and it sends a thrill right through him. He’d never get tired of hearing her say their daughter’s full name aloud. The honor of her passing on both his sister's name and his last name is one he'll never be able to repay, no matter how much he may try. 

“Madeline Samantha Mulder,” she confirms, suppressing a laugh at the way her brother cheers.

“Yes! Oh, Dana, have I ever told you that you're my favorite?” he says. “Melissa would be so proud of you.”

Mulder watches as her eyes turn wistful, seemingly focused on something thousands of miles away. “Thanks, Charlie,” she says, biting her lip. “I wish—” The next words seem to catch in her throat, but Mulder understands, and he knows Charlie does too. He holds out his hand, delighting in the way she seamlessly slips hers into his palm without even looking. She tries to finish her thought, but it isn’t necessary. “You know, I wish she—”

“I do too.” Charlie speaks softly. 

The line falls silent for a moment, the two siblings lost in the memory of their fallen sister, and Mulder lost in the memory of his. 

“She told me about Mulder once, you know,” Charlie says eventually. “Years ago.”

Mulder shifts, intrigued. 

“She did?” Scully asks.

“Yeah, after you were…” He trails off here and whistles an eerie, spooky-sounding tune rather than finishing his sentence.

Mulder grins, and Scully rolls her eyes. Predictable like the tides in the ocean, both of them are.

“She told me she'd just met our future brother-in-law,” he continues. “I didn't think she was serious. Just another of her wild predictions that doesn't come close to coming true. When I saw you both at Christmas, though…”

“I'm sorry we didn't invite you,” Scully interrupts him.

Mulder can almost see the younger man waving off her apology on the other side of the phone. “Nah, I've been to a fake wedding before,” he says nonchalantly. “You seen one, you've seen 'em all.”

Scully shakes her head, her eyes filled with mirth instead of the sadness that had been there before. For a few moments, they sit in comfortable silence, thankful to Charlie for being his usual, understanding self. 

“Bill was pretty worked up, though,” he adds after a pause, “yelling about a “sham marriage” and all that.”  

Scully sighs—frustrated, but not surprised, by Bill's continued behavior. 

“But it isn't, is it?” Charlie asks knowingly.

Scully’s eyes flick up to meet Mulder’s, and he gives her a small smile and a nod, his fingers reaching for hers on her lap. 

“No. It's not,” she answers breathlessly, swallowing back some emotion. Tears prick at Mulder’s eyes too, and he bows toward her to press a kiss to her forehead. “Turns out we're really bad about lying to ourselves out of some misguided fear of being open with each other,” she adds.

Charlie gives an exaggerated gasp. “No, you?”

Scully closes her eyes and sighs, her lips curled up in a smile. Mulder gives her fingers a squeeze.

“I'm sorry, Charles,” she says.

“Hey, just invite me to your next wedding, ‘kay?”

Now, that's an idea…

-.-.-

The rest of the day is spent looking after Madeline, marveling at her tiny features and trying to catch some sleep whenever she does—a task that Mulder, notorious insomniac, finds impossible. Scully insists he try to rest, though, and only when she puts on some kind of chick-flick period drama as background noise does he have any success. He conks out right on her shoulder before Colin Firth’s Mr. Darcy even appears on screen, his jaw hanging open slightly in his sleep.

She watches him for a moment, noting every freckle on his skin, the slope of his nose, the flop of hair hanging over his forehead now that his hair has started to grow back out. Maddie lays tucked away in her pack ‘n play already, swaddled in a pink blanket and snoozing peacefully.

She could sit like this forever, Scully thinks, listening to the even breaths of the two people she loves most in this world; But unfortunately, reason must prevail. She can almost hear the parenting class instructor’s voice in her ear reminding her to sleep when the baby sleeps, so she dutifully reaches for the knit blanket on the cushion beside her, and drapes it over herself and Mulder. 

He won’t mind, she remembers with a smile as she curls into his side, tucking her feet underneath herself. Since this morning, he’d hardly been able to keep his hands off her, personal space apparently a thing of a bygone era. They could live in an apartment half the size of this one, with as close as Mulder had stuck to her all day. His hand was practically glued to her lower back, even when she was just putting away dishes or preparing formula for Maddie.

He seemed to revel in this newly sanctioned element of their relationship, and was taking full advantage of it at every possible opportunity. Not that she was complaining; She was as guilty of it as he was, if not more so. For years, she’d had to resist the temptation to hold him. There had to be a limit to the friendly touches they could bestow, or they would’ve been forced to acknowledge that their feelings were anything but platonic.

But now, they’ve broken free of those limitations. He is hers, and she is his. In every possible way.

She sighs, leaning her cheek against his warm shoulder. The piano music coming from the TV is barely audible, but as her eyes drift shut, it relaxes her. In his sleep, Mulder shifts, nestling deeper into the cushions. His head lolls to the side, landing on top of her head, and she feels him exhale. The picture they must pose is like two pieces of a puzzle, perfectly fitted together. For the first time in her adult life, she feels complete.

She has all she needs right here. 

-.-.-

After dinner, and a sponge bath for Madeline that leaves her less than thrilled, Scully sends Mulder off to take a shower while she puts the baby to bed.

“Let’s get you all warm,” she says to Maddie as she lays her down on the changing table. She grabs an infant-sized diaper and puts it on her with practiced ease, smiling at the sound of water running and Mulder humming on the other side of the wall.

That's her husband.

“Daddy has a nice voice, doesn’t he?” she says conversationally, maneuvering Maddie’s arms and legs into the onesie. “I’ll spare you from mine.”

Before she zips up the pajamas, she bends over and tickles her tummy, pressing a kiss to her baby soft skin.

“All clean after your bath, hmm? Doesn’t it feel nice?”

Madeline blinks up at her, apparently deciding whether or not to forgive her for the cold and wet first experience in the baby bathtub. She had been cranky in the last half hour, even before the bath. It’s definitely time for bed.

She fights sleep for as long as possible, draining her bottle quickly and then crying inconsolably until her exhaustion wins out and her eyes close. Scully watches her, her face relaxed in sleep, and can hardly believe this is her life. 

She rocks her for a few more minutes, listening as the shower eventually turns off in the bathroom. A muffled swear sounds through the wall, followed by the clatter of several objects hitting the floor. Her collection of lotions, if she had to guess. Not breakable, at least, but to be fair to Mulder, they were in a spot that was just asking for them to be knocked over.

With one last glance back at Maddie, who is mercifully still asleep, she slowly rises from the rocking chair. Taking extra care not to jostle her in the transfer, she places her in her bassinet, watching as her chest rises and falls evenly with every breath.

A gentle knock on the bedroom door pulls her from her reverie, and she feels her heart give a lurch. She pulls herself away from Maddie’s bassinet, her stomach fluttering with butterflies as she approaches the doorway. Deep breaths, Dana. It’s just Mulder, she reminds herself.

Her hand clasps the doorknob, and she twists it, pulling the door open. At the sight of him, her lips curl into a smile, and she feels all traces of nervousness melt away.

He’s looking at her with that boyish smile of his, his hair all spiky from the shower. Droplets of water bead on the tips of his hair like early morning dew, every so often dripping onto the soft gray t-shirt he wears. Each one leaves a mark where it lands, absorbed into the fabric.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi.”

He has the pillow from his bed tucked under his arm like he’s ready for a sleepover, and he fiddles with the hem of the pillowcase, waiting oh so patiently for her next move.

She makes it.

Grabbing him by the arm, she pulls him inside, walking backwards with him slowly as he grins at her.

He kicks the door shut behind them.

-.-.-

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[gonzo-rella]

Not A Girl, Or Anything, Really | Phoebe Spengler

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI

Pride Month 2024 #3

Relationship(s): nonbinary!Phoebe Spengler x nonbinary!reader (platonic)

Summary: In the midst of a gender crisis, Phoebe confides in you.

Warnings: Coming out scene. (Let me know if I need to add any)

Word count: 0.4k

(A/N: I love the idea of Phoebe being nonbinary, and I love the idea of being an older sibling figure to her, so I thought I'd combine those two things in a short fic. I want to write some more Ghostbusters fics with a nonbinary reader (I can see myself writing a Ray Stantz x enby!reader fic at some point), so let me know if you'd be interested in that. If you're reading this during June, I'm taking Pride Month requests, where I'll be writing for queer readers. I'm trying to post every day, or on most days, but I don't have enough ideas to fill up the whole month, so give me some ideas, pretty please. I've written and plan to write a lot of nonbinary!reader stuff because I'm self-indulgent like that and there's not enough fics out there for enby!readers, but I'll happily write for readers with other queer identities! (By the way, I write for the queers year-round, but I'm focusing on specifically queer!reader fics this month).)

You could tell that whatever Phoebe wanted, or needed, to say wouldn’t leave her lips easily. She looked at you uncertainly, her gaze flickering between your eyes and the floor.

“You’re nonbinary,” she began hesitantly.

Nodding, you smiled at her to ease her visible anxiety.

“Correct. Go on.”

She rubbed her arms in an effort to ease her nerves. Then, she managed to look you dead in the eye.

“Do you think I could be nonbinary, too?”

You chuckled.

“That’s not for me to decide, Pheebs,” you said, voice warm. “Do you think you could be nonbinary?”

She shrugged.

“Maybe. I don’t know,” she replied. Though, to you, it came out like she had at least an inkling but lacked the confidence to admit it. “How… how did you know?”

“I thought about how I felt. What made me uncomfortable, what made me comfortable, how did I see myself, how did I want other people to see me,” you explained. “So, how do you feel?”

Phoebe glanced away as she contemplated your question. She looked self-conscious, in the kind of way that anyone exposing their most vulnerable thoughts and feelings naturally would.

“Well, I’ve never really cared about what people saw me as,” she said. “Being a girl, or being seen as one, doesn’t matter much to me. It’s never really bothered me that that’s how people see me, either. I don’t mind being called ‘she’, or my mom’s ‘daughter’, or Trevor’s ‘sister’. But, when I think about it, I don’t see myself as a girl, or anything, really. I guess it’d be nice if other people saw me that way, too. But, I don’t see the point in telling anyone if it doesn’t make me uncomfortable when people see me as a girl.”

She stared at you, as if waiting for an answer.

“I still can’t tell you what you are,” you insisted, with a gentle laugh. “You need to trust yourself to figure this out. And, it’s okay if you don’t figure it out, too.”

She seemed dissatisfied with what you had to say, so you felt obliged to offer her something. With a huff, you continued.

“But- and I’m still not telling you what you are- you don’t have to feel uncomfortable with being a girl to be nonbinary. And, I know how easy it is to convince yourself that asking people to respect who you are means you’re being difficult or something. But, anyone who’s worth being in your life will respect who you are, without treating it like an inconvenience.”

You watched as she took in your words. She locked eyes with you once again.

“I’m nonbinary.”

You grinned.

“Welcome to the club, Pheebs.”

Phoebe smiled. She paused before speaking again.

“Can you say that you’re nonbinary?” 

You knitted your brows.

“Uh, I’m nonbinary?”

“Hi, nonbinary. I’m Phoebe.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose.

“I should’ve seen that one coming.”