#it was an idea and I puked it onto paper

[rodolfoparras]

Thinking about having the most mundane conversations with Price while being in rather compromising positions with him | 18+, MINORS DNI

Being captain meant having little to no free time for yourself and that was a sacrifice Price was willing to make since it didn’t affect anyone other than him.

Most of his time was spent in the gym, out on the field or locked away in his office dealing with the pile of paperwork that never seemed to stop growing. Free time for him was a rare thing and when he did have some time for himself he was always prepared that it would be cut short by someone or something.

As mentioned before it was a sacrifice he was willing to make but it all changed when you came into the picture. His constant absence had now started to affect someone else.

And you knew it was eating him alive, could see it in his eyes as you jokingly told him how cold his side of the bed was.

You’d see him nervously chewing his lips when he heard you say “long time no see” after he’d gotten back from yet another long mission that had kept you away from him.

You had countless conversations about it, argued even, well it was mostly Price arguing with himself about how you deserved someone else, someone who’d always be there, not the ghastly presence that was the captain himself.

You reassured him every time of course, told him you knew who he was, what the relationship would be like, knew what you were getting yourself into when you’d ask him out. You were in the military yourself and were no fool to what was bound to come out of this relationship. Besides he made it all worth your while when you actually got to see the man.

Especially in moments like these when he’s seated between your legs using either his hands or mouth to make you cum while he’s asking about your day.

Albeit seen as something mundane, he treasured the fact that he could ask about your day since he rarely got to spend his days with you.

So when he’d get the chance, usually early in the morning or late at night, he’d ask you about it; what you will do, what you have done or how it’s been. Tell him everything, he wants to know all about it.

“How was your day angel? ” he’d ask while kissing along the expanse of your thighs “tell me about it yeah?”

Will deliberately ask questions that will keep you talking long enough while his mouth is occupied. Despite not being able to talk much he’ll still hum and nod when you talk, will pull away from the spot between your legs to ask follow up questions or even make comments about what you had said.

If he’s just using his hands it’ll feel a lot more intimate of course since he’s much more present in the conversation, lots of eye contact, gentle smiles, calm and mellow voice as he asks his questions while his hands do all the work.

It makes an interesting sight really. You’re either pinned down to the bed or propped against a wall panting and body shaking while Price is between your legs, hair trapped between your merciless fingers, cheeks flushed but voice ever so composed as he asks about your day.

If you were to just go by his voice you'd never guess what he was doing.

But you can’t deny the fact that there’s something so exciting about having him ask about your day at work while putting his very own hand to work or having him ask about some movie or book you read before he buries his head between your legs, or hearing the word “close?” as he allows you to rant about whatever’s been on your mind lately.

And if you happen to answer a beat too late- too busy getting lost in whatever he’s doing with his mouth and hands, he’ll remind you to keep talking again.

One-two -three taps on your thigh in warning, before he’s pulling away from the spot between your legs with a stern look on his face.

“When I ask something, I expect a response”

You’d just furiously nod at that, biting down on your lip and hips bucking up at him, just wanting for him to get back to it.

“Good good” he’d say with a gentle smile on his face, no trace of that sharpness from earlier “ now how was..“ is what he says before he goes back to spot between your legs.

Even once you’ve reached your peak, and he’s holding you close as you’re coming down from it, his eyes will widen in realization as he says “wait you never finished telling me about..”

You’d just sigh and roll your eyes at the man you love so much.

It’s different - non traditional in every sense but it’s something you truly cherish in your relationship.

He’d even mention some of these things you talked about while in public, which would have you blushing while he’d play all innocent about it.

“What? I was just asking about..”

[Bonus: does not let anyone impose on these moments. Early mornings and late nights are reserved for you and you only, to hell with anyone who disagrees with it.]

[witchesverse]

girlfriend killer.

pairing: dark!agatha x fem!reader

summary/request: I don’t know if you are accepting request but if you are I have an idea for Agatha Harkness and R… AU where R has had horrible luck in love. Every partners R has dies. R always finds comfort in her friend and neighbor, Agatha. R has no idea Agatha is killing R’s partners so that no one will ever take R away from Agatha..

content: noncon, mention and small descriptive of murder, mention of stabbing, mention of drowning in bleach, heavy manipulation, HEAVY TOPICS, funerals, mention of missing people, cum eating, pussy eating, strap-on sex, small mommy kink, knife play, crying, cum-filled strap, tummy bulges, humiliation, kidnapping, cutting.

a/n: this is honestly the darkest fic i've ever written and i loved writing it. (shoutout to @beggingforyours for being my assistant in writing this)

masterlist

You sniffled and wiped at your nose as tears stained your cheeks. You held a small rose bouquet; they were her favourite flowers. You were surprised that you were able to hold your sobs back as they lowered your late girlfriend into the ground.

"Come here, dear."

Your neighbour, Agatha held her hand out for you. You buried your face in her neck and cried. She held you and rubbed circles on your back.

For the past few years, you have had horrible luck with love. All of your partners have passed away in tragic accidents or have gone missing. This was the fourth girlfriend that you have attended a funeral for, and you don't know how much more you can take.

Without Agatha, you don't know if you would still be here. She has nursed you back to health after each funeral. Your friends would tell you Agatha was creepy and weird, but Agatha was your rock.

"Shall we go back to my place?" Agatha whispered.

Whilst still sobbing, you nodded.

-

It had been two weeks since the funeral and you hadn't left Agatha's house once. You had no reason to with how good Agatha cared for you.

Occasionally, Agatha had to leave for work reasons which left you alone in her house for a few hours. Agatha had one rule at her house.

Do not enter her basement.

It was an easy rule to follow. Half the time you forget the basement existed. But waiting for her to arrive back home got boring, so curiosity struck.

The wooden steps creaked underneath your steps, making you cringe each time. You dragged your hand across the wall, silently triumphing once you found the light switch and turned it on.

The basement looked normal. A large desk was at one side of the room and was covered with books and papers, and red paint splattered on the floor.

You didn't know Agatha enjoyed art.

A frown settled across your face when you noticed the weapons around the room. There must have been at least 20 different weapons. You guessed she enjoyed collecting them.

You looked at the papers and books on her desk, recognising a few titles but a diary caught your eye. You know it's bad to look at someone's diary but you couldn't help it.

Entry 42: Murder #4 I killed Darcy Lewis with a Zombie knife. The blade perfectly pierced her skin and ripped it up as I pulled it out. I smile remembering her screams for help and her promises to leave Y/n alone. Once she was weak, I held her head under bleach-

You slammed the diary closed and grasped onto the table. You felt like you were going to puke. You covered your mouth with your hand and cried.

Agatha Harkness was a fucking murderer.

She had murdered Darcy, the girlfriend who you had just buried two weeks ago, and she had comforted you through it. Darcy's body was never found, but if you continued reading, you were positive you would know where it was.

Darcy promising to leave you alone made questions swirl in your head.

Why did she say that? Is Agatha targeting your lovers? Did Agatha kill your other girlfriends? Why you?

You had to tell the police. You grabbed Agatha's diary and searched for anything else that could be evidence.

Loud claps rang throughout the basement and you froze.

"It looks like we have a little rule breaker, isn't that right, hon?"

Agatha stood at the bottom of the staircase and looked at you with an amused smile. She balanced a small knife between her fingers.

You swallowed, trying to find your voice.

"Y-You fucking killed her." You shrieked.

Agatha shrugged.

"Did you kill the others?" You asked but shook your head after "No. No, don't tell me. Just get out of my way so I can tell the police and get your insane ass in jail."

Agatha's eyes narrowed, her amused expression disappearing. You shuffled backwards as she stalked closer.

"Oh no, baby." She tsked "That's not how you talk to mommy."

A wave of confidence washed over you and you ran. You didn't get far. Her hand reached out and grabbed onto your hair, yanking you into her. Her diary flew out of your hands and you pushed away from her.

Agatha was stronger than you and kept her hold. She forced you on your knees and held the tip of her knife underneath your chin to keep your head up. Her grasp on your hair was painful.

"Why?" You cried.

Agatha rolled her eyes, "Those bitches weren't good enough for you so I had to remove them."

"You don't get to decide what is good-"

Her knife nicked your cheek as she slapped you. The unexpected slap shocked you and you didn't know how to reply.

"But I do get to decide."

She roughly pulled you to your feet and shoved you into the table. You grunted as your front collided with wood. Agatha pinned you down with one hand and held her knife in the other.

"Don't move unless you want to be cut."

You couldn't control your tears and cries.

Agatha used her knife to cut a hole in your pants, revealing your panties to her. She placed her knife on the table. She pushed your panties to the side and groaned at the sight of your bare cunt.

You held back a sob as her fingers dragged through your slick. She moaned at the taste of you on her fingers. She lowered her face to your cunt and licked a stripe up it.

Her moans caused vibrations and you shivered against her.

She pulled away from you and you heard her taking her pants off. There was the click of something opening and closing, and then you felt the head of a cold, lubed strap pushing into you.

"Please, Agatha." You sniffled, "Don't do this."

Agatha grabbed a fistful of your hair and shoved your face into the table, "Shut up and take it."

Her strap easily pushed into you. You cried as the stretch burned and your walls clung to her. She slowly pumped into you, thankfully letting you adjust before her speed increased.

The basement was filled with your moans, your skin slapping together and the wet noises your cunt made.

Agatha pulled you up into her chest, her hand finding its way around your throat and fingers twisting and tugging at your nipples. You moaned loudly and your head fell onto her shoulder. Agatha kissed your neck before sucking and licking at it.

Her hands rested on your tummy, "You feel that? That's how deep my dick is."

You whimpered.

Agatha started to softly moan and grunt in your ear, and you knew you were both getting close. She dug her fingernails into you, carving crescent-moon marks into your skin.

Agatha moaned loudly and forced you back onto the table. You felt warm liquid squirt inside of you, which pushed you over the edge into your orgasm.

Your head went blank and you pressed yourself into Agatha's strap until you came down from your high. You couldn't deny that orgasm was one of the best orgasms you had ever had.

Agatha turned your body around and pulled her strap out. She wrapped her arms around your legs and licked at you, cleaning you up.

You softly cried at the realisation of everything.

Your sweet, perfect neighbour has been murdering your partners for years and she had just fucked you in the same room she killed them in.

What's going to happen to you?

[slowdrawl]

Whiskey and Want |dbf!Joel x f!reader| | 18+ MINORS DNI | {series masterlist}

Chapter 6: Sweat & Sin | wordcount | 4.7k {TLOU AU, modern-ish, no outbreak, Sarah lives!}

| a/n | Buckle in because chapter 6 is long. This is where it really starts to all burn down. We're hungover, horny and done with Joels b.s. dbf! lines don’t just blur, they shatter. It's smutty, messy, and fucked up in all the right ways. hope it leaves you wrecked. Tell me if you’re feral for it, ‘cause I sure am. xoxo

" “I—I wasn't—” you stammer, but he steps closer, boots heavy on the hardwood, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Heard my name, sweetheart. Don’t stop now.” His voice is molasses-thick, commanding but warm, like he’s daring you. “Show me what you were doin’.” You know what, fuck it. I don’t even care anymore. "

Warnings/tags: 18+ only, minors DNI, SMUT, pussy pronouns, slow burn, forbidden romance, angst, yearning, Alcohol aftermath, intoxication,unprotected PIV, m/f masturbation, size kink, penetrative sex, cum play, sexual tension, strong language, emotional vulnerability, age gap dynamics, smoking references, dbf undertones, possessive sex, guilt, mentions of grief. series warnings after the fic. reader uses she/her pronouns and has hair. no major physical descriptions of the reader. no use of y/n but has the nickname Bird, Birdie, etc. reader has a backstory.

You wake to a skull-splitting throb ripping through your temples. Joel was right. You’re feeling it today. Sunlight slices through the curtains, white-hot and sharp. You roll over and bury your face in your pillow, It smells like smoke and shame; a faint echo of last night. Joel’s kiss burns through your head, rough hands and a growl daring you to forget. His “Go to bed, Bird” rings in your ears.

Fuck.

You groan, hauling yourself upright, stumbling downstairs. You’re half-hoping he’s there, half-dreading facing him—gonna be hard pretending nothing happened. But he’s not here, because he left you last night feeling like a mistake, leaving you feeling stupid for thinking he felt it too.

You walk into the living room. Your dad sits on the couch happy as ever, totally oblivious reading the newspaper. Your eyes drag to the coffee table and Joel’s whiskey glass still sits there, another reminder. The Cypress Hill t-shirt you’re in is wrinkled with sleep, pooling over your body, you haven’t looked in the mirror, unsure if you want to face yourself yet.

“Hey, Bird, you look like shit,” he says, eyeing you up and down.

Thanks.

“I feel worse than I look,” you reply, flopping onto the couch beside him. “Tequila’s never a good idea.” Your stomach churns at the thought, mouth-watering like you’re about to puke. You squint toward the kitchen, and the clock reads 10:38, at least you got decent sleep.

“You hungry?” your dad asks, brow arched, peering over the paper.

“Maybe. Probably should eat something, definitely need water.”

He folds the newspaper, tosses it on the table, and grunts as he stands. “I got called down to Dallas, some job’s fucked up. You know it was possible to install gutters fuckin’ backward?” He  huffs out half a laugh,” Oh, and the airs busted again—Joel’s gonna be here on his lunch break.”

You blink, relief creeping in, the coast is clear. “Wait,” you say, panicked, “Joel’s coming over?” You slow your voice, hiding the mix of dread and thrill. “Yeah, why? Probably be here soon. You cool with that?” He lifts a brow, probing your unease, but his phone rings before he can dig.

“Yup,” he answers, grabbing his keys from the hook by the door. “Love you, Tweety. See ya Wednesday-ish.” Then he’s out, leaving you alone with the heat and Joel’s looming shadow.

Cool… I guess?

You grab your phone, and tap the screen, anxious for what’s there.

Three new texts.

(9:04 AM)

Karlie: Girl are you good??? Did that dilf kidnap you? Give me the tea ☕

You’d rather not. She’ll escalate to 911 if you don’t reply.

(10:40 AM)

You: Hey, sorry, I’m good. Hungover as fuck, I’ll call later xox

(9:08 AM)

T-Mills: You okay bird? We’re ok right? I didn’t mean to make u uncomfortable. don’t leave me on read

You’d hoped Tommy would let it go, how did you tangle yourself with both Millers in one night? At least you didn’t kiss Tommy. You just let him grind on your ass in public, then you know, ended up on his older brother’s lap. You replay last night again. The bar, Brett? Brad? Ben—the kid Tommy nearly decked. The truck, Joel taking care of you. The dream, somehow ending better than reality. “We shouldn’t be doin’ this,” Joel's mouth claiming yours, then “Go to bed, Bird,” like a punishment, like you were a bad dog.

Fuck him.

You tap Tommy’s name and shoot off a response without thinking. It’s probably the only way you’ll do it.

(10:42 AM)You: It’s fine Tom, must have opened my phone half asleep last night. I feel like shit!!! Remind me to stay away from tequila next time

He replies instantly like he’s been waiting.

(10:42 AM)

T-Mills: Next time huh? Round two tomorrow??? 🎉

Fuck Joel. Let Tommy fix this.

You know what, fuck it. Maybe more booze and Tommy’s attention will soothe this ache.

(10:43)

You: 9pm, pick me up???

You check the last text.

(10:30 AM)

Joel: Is the a/c rlly broken or??

You laugh out loud.

What a piece of work.

Does Joel think you’d lie to get him over? You don’t even want to face him today. Shame washes over you like cold water, maybe last night was just a big fuckin’ mistake.

(10:45 AM)

You: ???? i just woke up, don’t know what you’re talking about lol 🤷

A text bubble pops up, vanishes, pops up, vanishes. You laugh again. Joel’s got his foot in his mouth, and can’t muster a reply.

(10:46 AM)

Joel: k.

K? Really?

Oh, fuck that guy.

You get off the couch, and head for the bathroom to scrub last night off. The image of Joel’s face before he said “Go to bed, Bird” feels permanently burned into your head. His eyes scared, like he fucked up, angry at himself, disgusted. Rejection stings your eyes, but it turns to anger the longer you stew.

If he wants games, you can play too.

You hop out with a plan. Black denim shorts, barely covering your ass, paired with a cropped Rangers shirt from your high school slut phase. The one with the neck cut out, it hugs your curves, makes your boobs look fantastic. You throw on a cropped flannel, put on mascara, and lip gloss, tying your hair into space buns to finish the look. You head downstairs, the silence is loud, not even the hum of the A/C, just you and your thoughts.

You try to eat the sandwich Dad left, but your mouth’s dry—it goes down like sand, Gatorade helps. Boots drag and a knock hits the door, you’re even sweatier knowing Joel’s there, alone now. You ditch the flannel, wrap it around your waist, and let him in.

Fucking get a grip.

It only takes a minute for your facade to crack. He looks gorgeous, toolbox in hand, curls tucked under a Rangers cap, in work pants with a toolbelt sitting low on his hips. He barely acknowledges you, only giving you half a smile as he walks in. You catch his eyes flick to your chest as he passes by you on the couch though.

Small victories.

He heads to the thermostat, fiddling with wires, ignoring you like you’re air. Anger jolts through you, tingling from your toes to your shoulders, but that toolbelt pulls it back to your core. Finally, he breaks the silence.

“Where’s your dad?”

“Dallas. Work trip,” you deadpan. Yes girl, give him nothing!

Joel hums, shakes his head, and then gets back to it.

You try to ignore him, but your competency kink wins. He mumbles about circuits and fuses, cursing under his breath and groaning as he works. You half-watch true crime on TV, but it’s no use.

“So,” you start, eyes on the screen, voice calm, bored, flipping to MTV, “why did you do it?”

Joel sighs, long and low. “Ain’t got words for it, kid. Shouldn’t’ve happened, was a mistake, end of.”

You laugh, bitter, leaning over the couch arm. “Cool, and now you’re gonna make it my fault? My problem? You started it, Joel.”

You stand up from the couch, legs moving toward him, face flushed with anger.

He stops, drops the pliers, and pinches his nose bridge, squinting. He locks his eyes on you—something unreadable in them, “See, this is why it never should’ve happened. You think I want this, Bird?” His jaw clenches, voice rough. “Think I’m happy fuckin’ everything up? For what? This?” You can hear grief crack through his voice.

“So answer my damn question. Why’d you kiss me?” you repeat, firm, smooth, the anger outweighing the anxiety in your words. 

“I don’t know, kid” he sighs, pain clear. “Because I’m weak. I’m fuckin’ weak and you…” He stops, eyes raking you, shaking his head, fists balled.

“You what?” you press, voice low and cutting, walking closer. “Just say it. You wanted it, Joel. Don’t blame me.”

“Wanted it? I’m fuckin’ haunted by it, Bird, by you.” It comes out as a snarl, his eyes glazed with shouldn’t and can’t.

You’re in his face now, “Then why’d you come here? You could’ve just said no to him.”

He grabs your shoulders and spins you, your back hits against the wall. His voice is a jagged whisper, “Because you’re a goddamn curse. I hate you for this. I hate me, but I can’t fuckin stop.” His mouth crashes down, rough, hungry, swallowing your gasp. His free hand finds your shirt hem, fingers searing your skin.

You lean in, tangling into him, hands grasping fabric, pulling closer. You’d crawl into his ribcage if he’d let you. He pushes back, caging you against the wall. Your head spins. You buck your hips, desperation met with metal and leather. You unbuckle his toolbelt mid-kiss. It crashes, tools scattering, narrowly missing your feet.

“You’re fuckin’ killin’ me,” Joel groans into your throat, panting. His mouth bruises your jaw, and trails fire down your neck, boot forcing your feet apart. “Tell me no,” he rasps, voice breaking, shifting his body weight to the knee that’s flush against you. His fingers hit your shorts’ waistband.

“Tell me to stop.”

You don’t, you can’t. You’ve never wanted something so badly before in your damn life. Your breath hitches as his hand slips under, grazing your skin, teasing the edge of your underwear, slow and deliberate, heat pooling low. He’s relentless, his teeth on your collarbone, one hand pinning your hips, the other circling where you’re soaked until your legs tremble.

“Joel,” you choke, arching into him.

“Fuckin’ say it, Bird,” he growls against your chest.

His touch intensifies, fingers teasing your entrance, barely dipping in. You gasp, “please” slipping out, hips bucking involuntarily this time. “I can’t do this,” he mutters, faltering, at war with himself; he doesn’t stop, he just keeps working you to the edge.

You manage to whisper, “I want this, Joel—you, I need you” your pulse hammers.

“You think you can handle that, little Bird?” He drawls, “Huh? You know what you’re signin’ up fo?”

His voice is sending you over the edge, a whine breaking free when a truck rumbles outside. Keys rattle, Joel freezes, “Fuck.” He pulls back slowly, eyes wild, hands leaving you just as the door bangs open.

“Birdie, forgot my damn wallet!” Dad booms, stomping in.

You shove your shorts straight, heart slamming. Joel steps aside, grabs his toolbox, jaw tight, muttering, “Gotta fix this damn thing.”

Dad strides through, tossing his keys on the table, squinting—Joel by the thermostat, you flushed, leaning against the wall trying desperately to look chill. “Still hot as hell,” he grunts, eyes narrowing. “Thought you said you were on it?” He snags his wallet from the counter, oblivious but sharp.

Joel clears his throat. “Fuse issue, takin’ longer than I thought.” He dives back into the unit, tools clanking, avoiding Dad’s stare.

Dad hums, skeptical, he glances down to the toolbelt. “Right. Looked like somethin’ else was goin’ on when I walked in.”

Shit.

Your stomach drops, but he doesn’t linger, just shrugs. “Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone.” He grabs your half empty Gatorade, “Love you Bird— bye Joel.” and heads out again, door slamming behind him.

Joel mutters, “Fuckin’ close,” twisting a wire, glancing at you—gaze loaded—then back to the A/C. It hums to life, cool air trickling out, tension thick as ever.

“Done,” he says, flat, packing his tools slowly, stalling. He straightens, toolbox in hand, but doesn’t move for the door. You’re alone again, the hum of the A/C doing nothing to cut the heat between you. His stare lingers, heavy, like he’s waiting for something.

“Why’d you stay?” you snap, voice sharp, stepping closer. “Could’ve bolted when he left.”

Joel’s jaw ticks, eyes flicking to the floor, then back to you. “Shouldn’t be here,” he mutters, rough. “Shouldn’t’ve come at all.”

“Then why did you?” you press, anger flaring. “You’re so full of shit—sayin'’ it’s a mistake, then pullin’ that?”

He steps toward you, close enough you feel his breath, warm and unsteady. “You don’t get it, Bird. I can’t—” He cuts off, shaking his head, fists clenching. “Fuckin’ hell.”

“Get what?” you bite back, staring him down. “That you’re a coward? Say it or leave.”

His eyes flare, guilt and want warring there, but he doesn’t answer. The silence stretches, taut, your pulse pounding in your ears. You’re inches apart, teetering, his hand twitching like he might reach out. Then he steps back, and turns, a low “Fuckin’ trouble” slipping out as he heads for the door. His gaze burns into you one last time, loaded with everything he won’t say, and he’s gone.

What the actual fuck?

You’re left reeling, his “ruinin’ me” echoes. The air cools, but the weight stays heavy. You slump down on the couch, staring at the whiskey glass, twirling the stupid necklace, even after that it still manages to ground you. Your skin still buzzes where he touched you, jaw to hips. The anger keeps churning, with something else now—want, raw, and fucking unshakable. Joel’s a coward, sure, but you’re not innocent. You pushed. You wanted it too. You sit back down on the couch, flipping through channels, trying to keep yourself distracted from the way you feel. You try reading and end up scrolling through your camera roll. Oh, fuck my life. You find an old picture, of Joel, Sarah, and Tommy. All of them wearing lifejackets, from a camping trip probably 5 years ago, Sarah had sent you it then, but it feels like this is the first time you’re really looking at it. Joel looks hot, Tommy, oh shit Tommy looks hot too actually, “goddamnit” you mutter to yourself.

Heat pools low again, unignorable now, he left you high and dry earlier—bastard. Guess you’re going to have to finish what he started yourself. You climb upstairs, shedding your shirt off halfway, it’s too hot, and you’re too pissed. You click your bedroom door shut, shorts sticking to your thighs as you sprawl on the bed, the curtains are half open, letting a warm glow in. You put your earbuds in your ears, and let your hands start to travel, letting the quiet of the hose settle while you drown it out with Pheobe Bridgers, Motion Sickness blaring loud. You slip the shorts off, leaving you in just your panties, and your fingers hover. You place the pointer and middle finger of your left hand on either side of your folds, scissoring them back and forth—slowly. Teasing your lips, barely grazing your clit. You’re already sensitive, you were so close to coming undone earlier, you know diving right would overstimulate you too quickly to enjoy. You want to take it slow, and draw out your pleasure for as long as possible.

You can’t stop thinking about the way Joel was looking at you downstairs, the way his brown eyes turned black, staring down at you like you were prey. The grip he had on your jaw, squeezing your cheeks, craining your neck towards him. You clench your thighs around your hand as the warmth at the bottom of your belly intensifies, you take your hand away, edging yourself.  You repeat this over and over until you’re practically soaking through to the mattress—desperate, your walls clenching around nothing.

You hear his rough, baritone voice in your head now, repeating over and over, “Think you can handle that, little Bird?” Your breathing grows erratic. Finally, you give in, sliding two fingers down, spreading your slick around the sensitive bud at the top of your pussy. You roll your fingertips over and over, teasing your entrance. You’re not sure if you’ve ever worked yourself up like this—it's agonizing, but feels so fuckin’ good.

You close your eyes tight, imagining your hands being replaced by Joel’s, his fingers fubbing merciless circles over your throbbing clit. A loud broken whine escapes your lips—”Oh fuck, yes, Joel”—as you plunge your middle finger in, curving it to reach your g-spot. You add another finger, then a third—stretching yourself out, picturing Joel fucking you with his fingers instead. The warmth simmering in your belly gets red-hot, pussy squeezing desperately around your fingers. You buck your hips into your hand, gasping every time your cupped palm creates a vacuum against you. Shockwaves jolt through your clit. You’re not being mindful now, no more teasing, you’re chasing your high, holding back sobs, biting your lip so hard you taste copper, right on the edge. A low rap hits your door. What the fuck? No. Who the fuck? You pull your earbuds out, “Hello? Who’s there?” you manage to choke out, trying to sound normal, but you don’t, and you know the answer. “ It’s me.” comes that low, gravelly voice through the door. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. I'm never wearing both headphones again. You snap your head towards the door and start to pull up your panties and the covers over yourself—not that it would help you at this point, you’re screwed, fuckin’ naked and afraid. “Thought I heard someone whimperin’ my name,” he says, as the doorknob turns. The hinge creaks as the door pushes open. “Need a hand?” You conjure up the courage to look up to him, adrenaline courses through your veins; it feels like your whole body is on fucking fire. There he stands, broad and rugged in the doorway, his dark eyes locked on you. His flannel’s unbuttoned at the collar, work pants slung low, and his thick cock, the one you’ve been dreaming about strains against them—girthy, solid, the outline making your mouth dry. You freeze.

“I—I wasn't—” you stammer, but he steps closer, boots heavy on the hardwood, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Heard my name, sweetheart. Don’t stop now.” His voice is molasses-thick, commanding but warm, like he’s daring you. “Show me what you were doin’.” You know what, fuck it. I don’t even care anymore.

Heat floods your face, and your pussy clenches at his words. Shaky, you spread your legs, tugging the blanket down, letting him see the mess. Your fingers were still slippery, panties soaked and needy, pulsing under his gaze. “Joel, I… I was just—” you whine, sliding them in your panties again, bringing a finger to your entrance.

He looms closer, eyes dark and hungry, his breath hitching as he watches. “Atta’ girl Show me how bad she’s been needin’ me. You wet like that just sayin’ my name?” Joel’s body weight shifts the mattress beside you before he rolls over to cage your body beneath his. Your heart is beating fucking erratically. His arms rest on either side of your head, completely silent as he moves one arm and trails a hand down from your collar, inching lower and lower. His fingers trace over your hardened nipples, carving an invisible line down your belly before stopping between your thighs. He places his hand over yours, like he’s the master to your marionette. “Oh, poor girl,” he coos—round puppy-dog eyes on yours again. “ Soakin’ fuckin wet. S’that all for me?” You want to speak but you can’t, you only nod. He guides a finger over the thin, soaked fabric of your panties lightly massaging your swollen lips. You’re still frozen, unable to form a sentence. You exhale a shaky breath that you hadn't realized you were holding—the faintest “please” escapes your lips. He keeps rubbing, harder now, dipping into the elastic of your underwear. “Left her cryin’ out for me earlier huh? Need me to fix her up?” his voice is low, drawl smooth—like honey. He lists his hand to cup your cheek in his big hand, making direct eye contact, searching your face for an answer. He drags his thumb across your cracked bottom lip, tugging it down, like he's trying to pull the words out. “Asked you a question, use your words darlin’,” his lips are ghosting your earlobe, whispering. “Tell me what you need, Birdie, I’ll make it all better.” You turn your head to face him, staring up through half-lidded eyes for a moment, before finding your voice again. ‘J-Joel, I need you,” breath hitching on every syllable. He slides his hand down between your thighs again, slowly moving your hand away now. Hand searching for the hem, hooking his thumb in, pulling your underwear off. He slides a finger down into the pool of slick between your legs, spreading it all over before he pulls his hand back. He brings it up and holds it between your faces. “I can tell, baby. She’s droolin' f’me. See that?” He rotates his hand, you watch as his finger glistens in the afternoon sun, and your jaw goes slack. Joel drags that same finger along his bottom lip and then sucks it clean. “Wanna taste?” He grabs your chin, tilting your head to give himself more access, and presses his mouth onto yours, gentle—swirling his tongue, exploring every inch he can reach. He lets out a little, strangled whimper. Did Joel Miller just whimper into my mouth? Holy fuck, he sure did.He pulls back off of your lips, you’re both collecting your panting breaths. He dips his head back down to the column of your throat, kissing along it, murmuring into your chest, “Sweet ain't she?” The room fills with stifled moans, labored breathing, and the creaking of weight under the bed frame. Joel is everywhere, taking up every thought, filling all of the space around you. Your head swims, hunger and lust flip-flopping in your belly. Nothing has ever felt so electric, so perfect. You’re impatient, painfully worked up, and you can’t take it anymore. “More, I need more, Joel,” you chant between gasps. “Please, make me come.”

“Say it again,” He says, pumping his fingers in and out, languid—slow.

“I need you to make me come.” You’re practically in tears now, his fingers circle your clit.

“So close. Try again, Bird.”

“Please, Joel, I’ll beg—I’m begging, don’t fuck around—you owe me.”

“Keep beggin’ for it, baby,” he says, voice low and rough. “You sound so pretty when you’re desperate.” He growls, shifting, and then he looks at you, all gentle. “Shouldn’t have left you like that downstairs,” apology soft, eyes guilty. His hands tug at his belt, pulling the work pants off, you see the outline straining against his briefs. You face him, grabbing at the waistband, tugging them down, you watch his cock spring free, thick and heavy against you. You pull him in closer to you, lips brushing against his ear. “Then make it up to me, cowboy.” His cock is even bigger than you expected it to be, It’s thick, heavy—girthy, and solid. Flushed pink and slightly curved, thank god you’ve been stretching yourself out for a while, because if not you’d be worried it would never fit. He groans, low and broken, ripping his shirt off, and throwing the blanket off of you, both fully naked now. He lets his eyes move down your body, “fuckin’ so pretty, been dreamin’ bout’ this for too long.” You whine and grab his cock, giving it a few slow strokes before moving even closer and lining him up to your entrance, sliding him up and down, through your folds, rubbing your clit with the leaking head, moaning. He grabs your hands and puts them above your head, rolling over on top of you, he leans down pressing at your entrance. “Sorry I left you like that earlier, baby,” he murmurs, voice filled with want. He pushes in, just the tip, allowing you to get used to the stretch before he slides in more. You moan into each other's mouths as he fills you up completely, inch by inch, slowly, It feels intimate, careful—like he's trying not to break you. He starts moving, deep and steady, dragging through slick walls, hitting that spot that makes everything throb. You're trying to match the rolling of his hips, hands move from above your head to his back, raking red lines down it. You wrap your legs tight around his torso, warmth coiling in your core, his hand is on your jaw again forcing you to look up at him. “You’re mine, Bird,” he whispers, breath hot on your skin. You shudder, breathing out his name. Your walls clench around him, squeezing his cock, every little sound you pull from him brings you closer to the edge, your pussy dripping as he thrusts, deeper, not rushed, building you up. His forehead presses against yours, sweat beading off of both of you, he picks up the pace. You bring one of your hands down between the two of you, rubbing circles. His thrusts get sloppier, he's staring down where you’re connected, watching you massage your clit, jaw slack, like he's hypnotized. He leans down to you, crashing his mouth to yours, all teeth and need. “You’re close, I can feel it. I’ve got you baby—let go for me,” That's all you needed, a tightness snaps low in your belly, and you come hard, soaking him. Your body is shivering as waves hit, you're squeezing around his cock, juices messy and hot down his shaft. Tears fill your eyes as you hold back a sob, you’ve never felt anything like this before. The intensity of the orgasm makes you raw, and emotional; your head spins. Joel groans, rough and low, “Fuckin' so perfect--mine ” his breath ragged, eyes dark with want.

But he’s close too. His thrusts turn sharp, urgent, cock pulsing. He pulls out fast, shaft slick and gleaming from you. He grips it, hand pumping once, twice—and he comes, thick ropes spilling across your mound, hot and messy over your trembling skin. He moans, head tipping back, cock throbbing in his fist as he rides it out, breath heaving.

Joel’s breath steadies, thick cock softening in his hand, cum streaked across your stomach. Guilt flickers in his eyes, but he grabs his flannel, wiping you gently. “Made a mess, huh, darlin’?” he murmurs, voice low. He fetches a warm washcloth, cleaning you with careful swipes—stomach, then between your thighs where you’re still slick. “Feel okay?” he asks, tucking the blanket around you, hand lingering on your arm.

“Yeah, Joel… I’m good,” you mumble, voice sleepy but warm. “You don’t have to go unless you want to."

He freezes, eyes darkening—guilt floods in fast, jaw tightening like he’s swallowing a blade. “I can’t stay, Bird,” he says, rough, standing up, grabbing his jeans off the floor. “Sarah’s callin’ tonight—said she’s got some news ‘bout school. I can’t be here, fuckin’ you, when she’s tryin’ to tell me somethin’ big.”

Your chest tightens—Sarah, still his anchor across the miles. “She’s in Boston, Joel,” you say, sitting up, voice sharp. “It’s not like she’s waitin’ by the phone—you’re just runnin’ again.”

He pulls his shirt on, belt clinking as he buckles it, eyes dodging yours. “Don’t matter,” he mutters, low, pained. “She’s countin’ on me.” He keeps talking, like he’s spiraling and can’t keep the words in, “Every second I’m with you, I’m lyin’ to her, to Kev. I’m here, balls deep in you, and she thinks I’m the dad she can trust. That’s what’s killin’ me.” His voice cracks, boots scuffing the floor as he turns for the door. “Lock up after me,” he says, quieter like it’s all he’s got left—then he’s gone.

You’re alone, body buzzing, sheets a mess. “We’ll Never Have Sex” by Leith Ross hums faintly from the forgotten earbuds on the floor. Too soon Leith, too fuckin soon, too fuckin late. Your phone buzzes It’s Tommy again.

(7:25PM) T-Mills: We’re still on for 2morrowr? 🐦🍺 Anger simmers beneath the afterglow. Honestly, fuck it. You decide to go. You text back,

(7:27PM) You: Yeah, dont be late! 😛 You toss the phone aside. Your fingers automatically reach for the necklace, “Seek the light” feeling heavier now.

series warnings!!! fluff, smut, angst,unprotected p-in-v (please wrap it up), f/m masturbation, fingering, large but legal age-gap (joel is in 40's reader is in mid 20's), size kink?, choking, pervy!obsessive!joel, pervy!mean!Tommy, possessive/rough sex, praise, sex on the phone, drinking/smoking, strong language, sneakin around, lowkey obsessive and reckless Joel, blackmail, competency kink, risky sex, infidelity/implied, semi-public sex, breeding kink lowkey, overstimulation, a tiny bit of coercion, dirty talk, oops its a creampie, brief mentions of grief and implied suicide, Tommy is a jerk in this one, guilt and betrayal, bar-fights @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @brittmb115 @mystickittytaco @your-nightmaredoll @leenieweenie12 @orodaeh @jokesonthem

[specterllaw]

Mommy or Ma'am? - Mike Ross x Reader / Older Brother Harvey

Summary: After a hospital scare, Mike is put on babysitting duty, which quickly turns into a fun morning for you both

Warnings: SMUT, Switch! reader Switch! Mike

Harvey knew getting Jessica to hire you was a bad idea, he thought he could fully trust you though. You were twenty two it was your first real job, even it was just making copies for everybody in the office when needed.

I was going smoothly for awhile until Monday Morning rolled around, Y/n was on edge because not only did she have tests coming up but she also had sports, work, and helping her older brother Harvey keep his penthouse and office clean and neat. She felt like she was losing it, so whenever she was woken up at 6AM to go to the office she wanted to start crying, she hadn't even been to bed really, only falling asleep twenty minutes before Harvey even woke her up.

You were stuck in the copier room, taking stacks of papers from different associates, and partners and just coping them over and over again. It was working smoothly until you dozed off coping papers and mixed up the order of them, now realizing you messed up very important documents your breathing started to shallow. You heart rate was speeding up and you started to feel dizzy and hot, holding onto the table next to the copier tightly you heard somebody's rushed footsteps approach you all before your eye sight went black. "Woah woah woah" Mike said taking in your unusual state holding you up quickly as your body went limp "Louis! Rachel!" He yelled trying to shake you lightly "C'mon Y/n, wake up" He whispered nervously, not knowing what was going on with you, as he saw Louis walking up to the door he took a breath of relief "Stay here with her, I'm gonna call an ambulance and go get Harvey" Mike said urgently, gently laying you on the ground, using his suit jacket as a cushion under your head, waiting until Louis knelt next to you to try and wake you before rushing through the firm "Donna! call 911! now" He said checking Harvey's office only to see it empty "Mike! Calm down what's going on?" Donna asked worried standing up and resting a hand on his chest "I walked in to get copies from y/n and as soon as I walked in, she fell to the ground- where's Harvey?" He asked quickly before rushing to Jessica's office seeing Harvey sitting in front of her desk. "What do you need, Ross? We're having a very important-" Mike cut Jessica off quickly, and rudely. "Y/n passed out, I don't what happened" He whispered, Harvey looked at Jessica and then Mike "Damnit" he huffed standing up quickly rushing to the copier room right as paramedics were coming up from the elevator and rushing to the same room as him.

Whenever you woke up seeing your room empty made your heart hurt, not even Mike showed up to check on you? What even happened? Right before you could decide on what happened you hear the door latch and in rushes Mike and Harvey fighting on who gets in the room first. "Y/n" Harvey sighed sitting on the side on your bed "Don't ever do whatever you did again" He demanded, thinking he was talking about you messing up the copies and files you started to tear up "I-I'm sorry" You whimpered, terrified you might get fired for all of this "For what? I mean..Whenever you feel worked up..come find me..I understand more than you know, y/n/n" he whispered running a hand over your hair to smooth it out "I get panic attacks too...instead of...blacking out..I puke"He whispered, you studied his face, that explained all the mornings before his trials he'd get sick. "Same goes for you then..come find me" You whispered to him grabbing his hand squeezing it "So what happened?" You added on tilting your head "Exhaustion, y/n" Harvey said sternly "Which means, you're taking the next two days off, to rest, recharge" He said turning his head as Mike coughed awkwardly. "Okay kid, I'll let you speak, but I swear if you try anything with my sister I will kill you" Harvey stated seriously and confidently "Okay okay" Mike grumbled raising his hands up in the air before taking Harvey's seat, Harvey taking a step out into the hallway to call Jessica.

"Mr. Ross" You mumbled, you still felt a little sleepy from whatever they gave you but you were desperate to wake up "Ms. Specter" He quipped back running his hands down his pants legs. "You okay, Mike?" You asked softly sitting up to rest a hand on his shoulder "Y/n..I like you" He whispered "More than a friend, more than a co-worker, and I wanna like you as my girlfriend..but I don't want your brother to kill you" Mike added on resting a hand on yours "How long have you felt like this Mike?" You whispered using your other hand to cup his cheek "Weeks.....You're just..so kind and sassy, and the way you give Harvey shit is just...the proud look you have on your face after you make him speechless is adorable" He rambled "I would have you make copies of random words I had typed up just to see you..that's what I was on my way to do whenever I came into the copier room and found you leaning on the table about to fall.." Mike rambled even farther before you giggled and kissed him deeply

"Can you not shut the hell up Mike?" You mumbled against his lips as he resting a hand on yours, jumping away whenever he heard the door open "Excuse me!" Harvey yelled looking at you both "Care to explain yourselves, children?" He asked crossing his arms like a mother.

You were surprised to see Harvey agree to let Mike stay over, he claimed it was just to 'help you sleep, like you claimed' but you felt like he preferred you not to be home. As you walked into your room you smiled as Mike who was already ready for bed, striped to nothing but his boxers, truth was you and Mike had slept together, a couple of times, you both had agreed it was strictly friends with benefits until just yesterday at the hospital. "Ready for me to help you sleep?" Mike quoted playfully "Yes sir" You giggled climbing onto the bed, straddling Mike's lap as you looked down at him "Ah ah, Princess needs to rest, let me do all the work, baby" he whispered before using his hips and body force to flip you two over to where he was hovering over you.

"Look. At. Me" Mike demanded, you were on your third orgasm now, Harvey was long gone at work now and Mike was spending the day inside of with you, specifically taking turns making each other cum, but now Mike had taken it into his own hands to make you forget your own name, and you were 10000% okay with that. You felt Mike's hand grab your chin forcefully having you look up "I said look at me." He growled as he kept grinding his hips, his dick still buried six and a half inches deep inside of you, you moaned loudly leaning your head further back into the pillows, biting your lip as you made eye contact with Mike, whining and moaning loudly again. You couldn't help it, between his shiny lips from going down on you, to the messy ass hair from you pulling on it, or making the sex drunk look with the lazy smirk as his face as he fucked you into oblivion. "F-Fuck Mike!" You whimpered as he spit forcefully down where his cock entered inside of you before rubbing your clit with two fingers. You couldn't take it, you wanted to scream but you knew your brother would get a noise complaint and he'd know what you two were doing, home alone.

"My slut can take it" Mike whispered in your ear as he wrapped a hand around your throat, squeezing tightly as he started to thrust his hips alot faster than he previously was "Fuck fuck fuck Mike!" You screamed trying to close your legs but Mike just held them back open, continuing the sweet abuse on your clit, you could feel yourself getting close to the breaking point of cumming again and you knew Mike didn't care. You gasped loudly arching your back as he started fucking you alot faster, the hand around your throat tightening and it just added to your pleasure. "Cum, slut" Mike growled, not letting his hips falter its pace as he watched you cum, the way your face scrunched up, or the way your pussy squeezed around his cock as tight as possible, or maybe it was the fact you were screaming his name while leaving scratch marks all down his back but whatever it was, he wanted to remember it forever. You started to whimper, his cock moving inside of you beginning to become way too much for you to handle "Hold on baby..Use your words, you know what to say to stop, Daddy's so close though" Mike panted as he kept fucking you, his little whimpers were enough to get you wet yet again, but this time it sparked an idea. Once Mike started to pull out you glared at him, giving him a look that says 'you'll regret that' "Keep fucking me, baby" You whispered grabbing his boxer waist band that was tugged down below his cock, using it to pull him back closer, and his cock back deeper inside of you "Keep fucking mommy" You moaned arching your back, Mike whined before rolling onto his back pulling you ontop of him "Fuck keep talking please, you're so fucking hot" He moaned grinding his hips up "So Mike Ross is also a bottom?" You gasped playfully before holding his hips down "In that case, hips down, slut" You demanded before starting to grind and bounce your hips slowly on his lap, moving his cock in and out of you at a slow pace, making Mike try and sit up quickly, once he realized that wasn't happening he attempted to try and speed up your pace by thrusting his hips up but you just grabbed his hair and tugged it back, using the opportunity to leave hickeys down his neck. "F-Fuck Ma'am" Mike whined sitting up holding you close to him before taking one of your nipples in his mouth, swiping his tongue over it along with gently nipping at it, all making you increase the speed you were going. Mike was a whining wiggling mess, desperate to fuck you again and get his pleasure, he hadn't been a bottom since high school when he fucked the popular girl so this was extremely extremely hot for him.

"You wanna fuck me, baby?" You whispered in his ear dragging your nails down his back "Yes. yes yes yes Mommy, ma'am, yes, whatever you want me to call you just please let me fuck you, I wanna make you cum again" He whined trying to move his hips up against you as you lifted your hips up so it was just the tip inside of you. "Then take whats yours, Mike.." You whispered before kissing him deeply, he flipped you again, fucking you alot more erratic and harder, slamming into your pussy like it was the last time he'd ever fuck anybody. "Fuck!" You both shouted, yours more of a moan while Mike's was a full whine. You gasped feeling him cum inside of you, something you weren't expecting considering he had a condom, you couldn't think too much about it as you felt that familiar knot in your stomach snap as you came for the fifth or sixth time that morning.

As Mike pulled out you watched him stare down in horror and shock "Y/n..The condom broke.." He mumbled looking towards you as you were laying down trying to catch your breath.

[stereopticons]

On This Day in Schitt's Creek: May 6

2019

All These Minutes Passing [stevie/alexis, E, 8,396] by @helvetica-upstart

Alexis runs a fingertip from Stevie’s collarbone down her chest until it brushes under the lace edge of the costume slip’s bodice. “You’re sweaty, Ms. Bowles.” Stevie isn’t that sweaty, but she’s not about to derail this game. She says, “You know how I am with dancing.” “Sweat’s bad for silk. You should take it off.”

Babysitting [david/patrick, G, 3,162] by orphan_account

David and Patrick are babysitting for Ted and Alexis. David is not so sure that this is a good idea.

Drunken Shenanigans [david/patrick, G, 2,653] by orphan_account

The Rose siblings are drunk. Ted and Patrick are very sweet partners, and Stevie isn't getting paid enough for this.

Five Things [ted/alexis, T, 2,101] by orphan_account

Alexis has a nightmare.

Getting clarity [david/patrick, G, 3,691] by JessX2231

The more time they spent together, the more Patrick couldn’t ignore that perhaps the feelings he had for David were more than just business partner chemistry and admiration for a brilliant business model. He liked this guy. And he didn’t quite know how to move forward with that. So he hiked.

Girls like boys like girls do [david/patricia, E, 4,425] by Danlevylove

What if David’s business partner was a woman?Basically an AU to get me off!Chapter 2 gets smutty -I'm not sorry

Hold On Tightly [david/patrick, T, 2,847] by TayTay4936

It started not long after they got married. David and Patrick were both on speakerphone with Patrick’s parents when Marcy made the first comment. “When are we going to get grandchildren? We’re not getting any younger, you know.”

Patrick and the Angry Inch [david/patrick, M, 3,671] by @stargatewars

Patrick is cast in the titular role in Hedwig and the Angry Inch.

Pregnancy Test II [ted/alexis, T, 3,987] by @kingcatt

Alexis may or may not have a bigger problem than the fact that she just puked all over David's Romanian Tile

Six Pounds, Ten Ounces [david/patrick, G, 2,685] by @erandri

“Have you ever thought about having kids of your own?” David asks. “Yeah. Yeah, i’ve thought about it,” Patrick's voice is calm and measured like he doesn’t want to spook David, “I love the life that we have, you and the store, that’s all I need to be happy… but I do like the idea of us raising a kid together. Have you ever thought about us having kids?” Patrick asks quietly like he already knows the answer.

Through Time [david/patrick, T, 20,442] by @mostlyinthemorning

All that mattered was finding out when he was and figuring out how he could get back to David. Or Everything is the same except Patrick can travel through time.

You Could Be the One [david/patrick, M, 19,574] by bigficenergy

David has big feelings about Patrick, and he's listening to a lot of Carly Rae Jepsen about it.

2020

capitalist raccoons [david/patrick, G, 685] by oh_la_fraise

Patrick buys David Animal Crossing during quarantine. It goes about as well as you might imagine.

Fear Is Just Part of Love [david/patrick, NR, 14,499, CW: rape/non-con] by emzbookworm

Why are barbecues cursed for them? At this point David didn’t know if he’d ever be able to eat another slider. What was it about charred meat that made figures from the past emerge simply to fuck with his emotional stability, only to disappear once again?

Happily Ever After [david/patrick, T, 3,014] by @missgeevious

David discovers Patrick's secret spreadsheet.

Holding Onto You [david/patrick, T, 4,171] by @vulcanvampyr

David's family has just left, and he is totally fine. Right?

I Bleed My Heart Out On This Paper [david/patrick, G, 1,276] by @blackandwhiteandrose

"David reached into his black overnight bag and snagged his journal, checking to make sure his favorite pen was still held in the pages between the leather binding. He put his pen to the paper, but with all the thoughts jumbled around in his head, he barely knew where to start. He glanced at the last entry – it was about Patrick, of course. What had started as a written account of the travesty of his life post-fortune had taken a quick turn when Patrick had arrived."

Jukebox Ficlets [david/patrick, NR, 2,010] by @thegrayness

A collection of unrelated David/Patrick ficlets.

Quarantine, But Then Make it Fashion [david/patrick, T, 4,501] by @leopxld-fitz

They've been in quarantine for two weeks, and David seems more stressed about Alexis being in New York every day. When Patrick catches David wearing sweatpants around the house, he knows something has to change.

the rest of you, the best of you, honey belongs to me [david/patrick, E, 3,444] by HmmAboldclaim

David and Patrick have fun in the back room. Someone wants to watch. Just watch. Alternating POV which I suck at. Jake, a lot of David, a little Patrick POV. Just some word vomit about my post S6 feelings. It's my first David and Patrick story as I usually stick to rpf (come visit me in the rpf tag and read my fun stories). Anyway, it is some smut and feelings.

2021

[Podfic] You Heard Me [david/patrick, G, podfic] by Amanita_Fierce

From DisgruntledPelican’s prompt: David says “I love you” first. [Podfic of "You Heard Me" written by Delilah McMuffin]

Close Encounters of the Alces Kind [david/patrick, G, 1,174] by @treepyful

why are you trying to get me to stay at work longer than i need to what did you do Nothing i can hear you lying

didn’t ask for this--you freely gave it (so now i watch your mouth for both of us) [alexis/twyla, T, 6,371] by @turningtimeinthetardis

Alexis chops her name down to three letters like it's nothing. Twyla thinks about it a lot.

Eat, Ray, Love: The Schitt's Creek Community Bulletin Board [gen, G, fanart] by @meadowharvest4856

Fanart: A collection of flyers spotted around town in Schitt's Creek.

female to manager and owner of rose apothecary [david & johnny, T, 2,627] by artyspikedhair

David Rose came into the world two months early, and the Rose’s were under the impression that they brought home a little baby girl from the NICU.

four four four two [david/patrick, M, 12,083] by @ratchet

Business manager required to help set up small bakery/deli in central Elm Falls Experience in food service would be beneficial but not necessary 40 hours p/w Salary negotiable The advert had been small, tucked into the corner of the classifieds page of a local newspaper. A small business getting off the ground. It was a jigsaw piece Patrick knew he could be, something that could fit here, in his new life. ----- Or: David and Stevie are starting over. Patrick knows something about that.

If Hell Had a Creek [gen, T, 9,139] by @landofsonlali @sunlightsymphony

After losing everything, the Roses are forced to move to their only remaining asset, the town of Schitt's Creek. Also, the town is on the Hellmouth, and Alexis is the Slayer.

When they sent home the horses and the rodeo clowns [david/patrick, M, 3,376] by @kiwiana-writes

David whirls to face Stevie, phone still in hand. “A couple who got divorced? Stevie, what the fuck did you say to them?” “I didn’t say that!” She raises her hands, backing away from David’s murderous glare. “I specifically said that you’d opened the store with your husband! And then I said something about how even as your relationship status changed the business had stayed strong, and—” She cuts herself off, clapping her hand over her mouth as both David and Patrick stare at her, incredulous. “Oh, fuck.”

why don't we full on pretend [david/patrick, T, 12,587] by @swiftlythebest

“Okay, if we’re going to do this, we need to set up some ground rules.” David had just turned the store’s sign to closed as Patrick began to deal with the cash register. At David’s declaration, he looked up, confused. “Hate to break it to you David, but we’ve been running this store together for a while now. It may be a bit late to retroactively lay out a bunch of rules.” David rolled his eyes and made his way to stand opposite Patrick, the counter between them. “I meant our whole fake dating thing. For the apartment discount.” Or the fake dating/roommates/mutual pining fic no one asked for, but I wrote anyway.

you should let me save the day [david/patrick, E, 17,154] by @simplymarleycat

David and Patrick are college students, both coming to the end of a very challenging year. While heading home for the holidays, a chance encounter on a shuttle bus and a surprise snowstorm change not only the course of their evening, but also the rest of their lives.

2022

[Podfic] 40? How Dare You? [david/patrick, E, podfic] by HowOldAreWe

It’s David’s birthday. Patrick is horny. Filthy sex ensues.

Schitt’s Creek v. Patrick Brewer [david/patrick, G, 2,115] by mindswindowsdoors

Patrick has developed quite the reputation in Schitt’s Creek. It all comes to a head at a town council meeting.

Step right up [david/patrick, T, 4,304] by @vivianblakesunrisebay

Patrick takes David on a date to the county fair.

2024

[Podfic] I Could Be In No Better Place [david/patrick, M, podfic] by Amanita_Fierce

“Well?” Patrick raises his eyebrows so they match the arc of his smile, with the high point in the middle. David is dismayed to realize that no amount of kissing that smirk off his face will deter Patrick from this line of questioning. An unexpected night of privacy after Asbestos Fest causes a change of plans and David has feelings about it. Podfic of I Could Be In No Better Place by Distractivate.

back to december [ted/alexis, NR, 1,396] by notmyfandoms

And I go back to December It turns out freedom ain't nothin' but missin' you Wishin' I'd realized what I had when you were mine When David doesn't give Alexis the attention she needs, she finds herself alone with her thoughts - and a certain necklace - in her apartment, and reminisces.

Budg(i)e over, there’s a new bird in town [david/patrick, T, 100] by @a-noble-dragon

Welcome to Squawk Creek!

Stats:

No fanworks for 2017, 2018, or 2023 2019: 12 fics/77,634 words 2020: 8 fics/33,600 words 2021: 10 fanworks (8 fics, 1 podfic, 1 fanart)/64,528 words 2022: 3 fanworks (2 fics, 1 podfic)/6,433 words 2024: 3 fanworks (2 fics, 1 podfic)/1,516 words Total: 36 fanworks (32 fics, 3 podfics, 1 fanart)/183,711 words

[yourfavouriterival]

the slow descent from reality (and how to find your way back)

shoko x platonic!fem!reader, gojo x platonic!fem!reader, geto x platonic!fem!reader

warnings: slightly au (not concrete on whether it is canon-compliant), puking, crying, mentions of wounds, mentions of death, hurt/comfort

note: idk if this is good :( but it came out and this is the first thing i've written in months so do give me criticism

-

There must be something in the air. That must be it, because she must’ve been imagining things. Surely, the two loves of her life were still very much the loves of her life. Surely, her closest and longest friend was still her closest and longest friend. Surely, their choice of school and choice of career hadn’t changed their souls so much that she flinched away from their touch. Surely, she could still stand her three best friends' gaze on her and not need to shrink from them. 

And yet. 

Her best friends—her three only ones—that she couldn’t bear to be away from had suddenly become the only ones she couldn’t bear to be close to. 

It’d all started in the beginning of the colder months. She’d yanked her coat over her thin hoodie and held the sleeves to stop them from rolling up her arm. She’d pulled a hat onto her head, avoiding the mirror to be able to ignore how egg shaped she must’ve looked. She’d double-tied her shoes to keep the cold out. 

She’d even grabbed an extra knife to stuff in her boot. 

And still her hands shook and her heart blistered from the cold. 

How long had she grasped onto this feeling within, trying to breathe it into existence only for it to not matter in the slightest? Years, at this point. How long had she wanted to fight stronger curses, to show how strong she truly was? How long had she longed for the chance to prove herself, to finally protect something that mattered?

Yet this past mission. She might've very well signed her resignation papers on the train ride home. 

Her train compartment had been isolated, just her and the sound of metal on metal as she turned her head away from the windows. Her phone lay silent in her pocket, the headphones she usually wore haphazardly thrown into her shoulder bag alongside the knife she’d stuffed in her boot. 

She’d come home, though. As she walked the steps leading to her dorm room, she thought she might just pass out, not from exhaustion. Every step hurt her lungs, and she felt the world was spinning before her eyes, and she couldn’t seem to stand on her own two feet, having to support herself on the wall next to the door. 

She’d never felt so weak. 

Her phone buzzed. 

She opened it. 

suggy: me n dumbass r watching lotr. come over

suggy: realising that sounds like a fuck boy dont come over

suggy: i give up. bye. 

suggy: shoko wants u here. i will not fuck u. 

sat on as a child: sugu soooo wants to hit

sat on as a child: ok sorry hope ur mission went well :3

cigarette girl: hello can u bring me a pack i think i left it in ur room

cigarette girl: omg wait how did the mission go!!! ur so professional now

And for some reason, she closed the door and slid down, numb to the feeling of the wood door digging into her back and somehow unable to close her eyes. The room was dark, the candle she had in the corner cold and dry, the light switch on the wall above her seeming to move further and further away from her hand that felt like forty pounds resting on her leg. 

She felt sick. 

-

For two days she couldn’t eat. She avoided Suguru and Satoru’s invitations by saying she had a stomach ache and she avoided Shoko by saying she had plans with the boys. For four days she couldn’t sleep. 

Nausea wracked her body with each breath and her head was spinning even though she hadn’t moved from her pillow for days. Her body felt oily, the idea of taking a shower too hard. 

I failed. I quit. That’s all she wanted to say. She just wanted to close her eyes for a moment and not see what haunted her mind. 

But if she really quit, what else would she do? Maybe she’d become a doctor, and try to save some lives for once. But why should she try to save people who rarely wish to be saved? Similarly, why was it in her DNA to see curses? Was it not non-sorcerers who should pay the price for their own doings? Should she need to watch yet another child die—

“Oi! Let us in, we’ve got take-out!” 

Satoru was the voice, and two smacks were heard, so that meant Shoko and Suguru were with him. 

But she couldn’t move a muscle. The blankets seemed to consume her, and she might’ve fought against it if she had any energy left to give. But her legs were made of cement and her stomach was filled with glue, sticking her insides together, and hindering her ability to feel her own legs. 

She didn’t want them to come in. She didn’t want them to see her like this. What would they think of her now? Her room was a mess, reflecting a fraction of what her mind was, and her bed looked like someone had fought a war in it. 

“We’re waiting! Hello,” Gojo drawled, voice almost like a melody through the door. 

She kept staring at the wall, curled into herself and breathing much too shallowly. 

“Suguru, you literally have a key. Use it.”

“For emergencies.”

“This is an emergency. I need to sit. My legs are numb,” he whined. Their voices were all muffled and she couldn’t really figure out if it was due to the door between them or how her ears were ringing. 

“Fine,” Suguru groaned, and she heard the sound of the key scraping against the keyhole before the door opened. 

“Your favourite people are here!” yelled Gojo. 

But it was so quiet. 

Her name was called out, or she thinks she heard it. But she didn’t move, only her back facing them. For a moment, she worried about the fresh scars on her back that couldn’t be healed fast enough, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. 

The bed dipped by her legs, and then a hand was placed on her knee over the blanket. The hand was warm, like a furnace under someone's skin, so it had to be Suguru. 

Her name was said again, and the bed dipped twice more—once by her head and lastly by her back. 

“What’s happened?” 

She didn’t speak, but she did start coughing. And then she spoke the first thing she’d spoken in days. “I—I’m gonna throw up,” she warned frantically, and within a second there was a metal bucket by her head where she’d shot up to sit. 

“Go away,” she cried between gags, but all that happened was Shoke pressing a wet towel to her neck and someone rubbing her back. “Please, j—just go away,” she cried, tears springing to her eyes when the gags turned to dry heaving. 

“Not right now,” Satoru said, unusually soft when he took the wet towel from Shoko to wipe around her mouth as she sat up. 

Without a word, Suguru took the bucket and disposed of it and it’s contents in the bathroom attached to her room, and then returned to kneel on the floor beside the bed. “We heard what happened.” 

It just made her cry harder, body so weak that she had to lean against Shoko behind her. “Then you should leave.” 

“Never,” Shoko finally said, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her head. 

The tears that fell from her eyes dripped onto her shirt, but she couldn’t seem to close her eyes from the onslaught. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. 

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Suguru promised. “Do they hurt?” She didn’t know what he meant, so she shook her head regardless. “Your back.” 

Oh. Right. The two slashes running across her lower back throbbed at the reminder of their existence. 

“A bit,” she said finally. “I feel… gross.” 

“Then do you want to shower?” 

“Y—yeah,” she said, but when she stood (disregarding that she was only clad in underwear and a t-shirt) her legs buckled beneath her, and she would have crashed to the floor had her three best friends not caught her. 

“Okay, I’m carrying you,” Satoru said, and no sooner than the words left his mouth was she in the air, not without yelling a bit. 

As they entered the bathroom, she realised what a conundrum she was in. Was she to strip naked? Or should she somehow hold herself up—

“Stop thinking so much,” Satoru chastised, and set her down on the closed toilet seat as Suguru and Shoko joined them. “Which one of you wants to? I would but—”

“Yeah, yeah, your six eyes and whatever,” Shoko grumbled, but it was Suguru who took whatever Satoru was holding.

“A blindfold?” she laughed suddenly, even though it tore up her throat to do so, and she lost her breath when Suguru tied it around his head and stood in the shower, arms open. 

“Won’t look. Just here to help,” he said. And then Satoru was guiding her into the shower, and taking Shoko out and closing the door, and then it was just her and Suguru. 

“Sugu,” she said softly. And then she was leaning forward, resting her head on his collarbone and just breathing him in as she reached behind him and turned the water on. She flinched at the coldness first, but leaned back anyway to take off her shirt. “Can’t get my underwear off,” she mumbled, and even with his gentleness of finding her hips and pulling them down, she couldn’t help but feel her face and neck warm. 

“We’ll take care of you.”

-

When Suguru clambered out of the bathroom with his soaking wet clothes to change, he also threw in an oversized shirt and underwear and pants, but as she yanked them on she noticed the smell—Gojo Satoru. 

She remembered, suddenly, buying them. They’d gone to a second-hand store, and Satoru had taken the biggest shirt he could find “just for funsies” and the softest pants, and then proceeded to never wear them. Shoko had complained and offered to take them, but Satoru refused, saying that someday he would want to wear them.

And now she was wearing them and tentatively stepping out of her bathroom to a very clean room. 

“Um—”

“I cleaned!” Satoru yelled. Shoko hit him in the shoulder, and walked towards her to guide both of them into her newly made bed. 

“I cleaned,” Shoko whispered, curling her body around her best friend’s. Then Satoru joined, flopping down next to Shoko whilst Suguru pressed his chest to her back. 

“I know.”

[bookish-bogwitch]

Hello! Thanks for the tag @ivelovedhimthroughworse. I am so so excited for your monstrous spawn to wreak devastation across our screens. And thank you to everyone else who's been tagging me the past month or so while I tumbled inconsistently. I appreciate you.

Here are eight sentences from chapter 7 of Basil Pitch's Diary, which I'll post next Saturday.

Accidental outing not disaster, but opportunity. Father can hardly pretend I’m straight once Snow has alerted entire World of Mages otherwise. Will set proud example as first out member of an Old Family. (Dev doesn’t count.) Will usher in queer golden age.  But if I return to school still single and virginal, even Snow might do the math. Two weeks’ bunny snuggles plus zero other love interests equals one big fat crush on roommate. Very idea makes me want to puke blood of woodland creatures onto duvet.

What will our hero do in the face of this dilemma? Whatever it is, I'm sure it's a really good idea.

More thanks and tags below the cut.

As I wrote before, I skipped an update on this fic because I needed more time to lay track for the ending. Thank you @facewithoutheart and @thewholelemon for your patient help figuring how I'm going to get Baz from points A, B, and C to E. You talked me off the ledge and were so insightful. I'm now confident that I won't stall out writing this thing right after its angstiest chapter, which was a danger. 😂

No-pressure tagging / a friendly hello to @blackberrysummerblog, @alleycat0306, @alexalexinii, @artsyunderstudy , @aristocratic-otter ,

@angelsfalling16 @brilla-brilla-estrellita @carryonsimoncarryonbaz @dragoneggos , @erzbethluna, @emeryhall ,

@fight-surrender @gekkoinapeartree , @ic3-que3n , @ileadacharmedlife , @ionlydrinkhotwater ,

@j-nipper-95 , @larkral , @nausikaaa , @nightimedreamersworld , @martsonmars ,

@messofthejess , @onepintobean , @otherpeoplesheartachept-2 , @pipsqueakparker , @penpanoply ,

@rimeswithpurple , @letraspal , @twokisses , @urban-sith , @valeffelees ,

@wellbelesbian , @whogaveyoupermission , @shrekgogurt @whatevertheweather , @xi-vz ,

@yellobb-old , @you-remind-me-of-the-babe , @comesitintheclover , @iamamythologicalcreature , @imagineacoolusername

@skeedelvee, @youarenevertooold, @paper-beats-writers-block, @stitchyqueer,

[froggybrainz]

I'm thinking about getting into writing again. But I'm probably gonna just do it for myself cause I have alot of world building I want to get to, but I've been stressed about whether or not anybody is gonna like it. Plus, I don't want to end up upset cause my artblock has left me unable to put my ideas on paper, so imma just let my brain puke onto my chrome book and call it fan fiction.-.

[antigoneikk]

Find the Word

got tagged by the elite mutual @chirpybirdy

Rules: Share snippets of your work containing each of the words the previous poster selected for you (optional addition: if you can't find the word in your WIPs, or you simply don't have any WIPs, you can just write a sentence around the word).

Words: letter, add, lung, bus, lead.

letter:

(from liebgott x f!oc fic)

They stopped after letter 60. In the Spring of 1945 they stopped. One month before V-E Day. Birdie held the last letter in her hands, tearing at the edges. Four months ago now. 

The last one read:

Dove. 

I don’t know how to tell you. Don’t wait for me. I won’t be coming home. The world we live in is beyond cruelty. 

There was no sign off. But she could read his handwriting in the dark. Still. Like a fool she took the train from Atlanta to New York and waited at the docks for him on the day of his expected arrival. She has no idea how he did it. But he never showed. She saw the rest of his company. She even saw Margie’s Ron. But no Joe.

add:

(no snippet for this one. random on the fly poem instead)

I add, and add, and stack.

Her soft tread, and small feet

make indents in the sodden earth.

The shadow presses back.

lung:

(from f!Eugene/Leckie au fic)

Sid, as the night wore on, kept shooting them very ugly looks, which Genie did not appreciate.

In his defense, he had a right to be jealous for her attention, since it was their first shared birthday party away from home. Hoping to appease him, she tried to include him in the conversation. But every time she turned to ask Sidney something Leckie somehow drew her attention back into his orbit. His wide blue eyes, so much like her old babydoll's that Sid had broken when they were children, sparkling with glee.

Soon talking had turned to dancing, and Genie, four beers in, had forgotten why she was out in the first place. Leckie whirled her about the room. He wasn’t a great dancer, but he made up for his lack of technique with enthusiasm. And anyways, she was a real dead hoofer herself, so she had no room to complain.

Sweaty and giggling, unable to catch her breath, lungs aching, they left the makeshift dance floor, only to find that their friends had all abandoned them.

bus:

(from the modern!au eugene/snafu fent addict fic)

Gene is sorting through his textbooks. He can’t see out of his left eye. It’s completely swollen shut. A smaller body sidles up to him, leaning against the cool, worn blue rows of lockers. 

He looks over and sees that it’s Shelton. Snafu. Situation-Normal-All-Fucked-Up. He got the name from Burgie. Back in eighth grade when he snorted a line of coke in the back of the school bus on the way to the annual DC field trip and then immediately puked up bile onto the seat in front of him. Back then Burgie and Snafu had still been childhood best friends, so he had been in the splash zone so to speak. This was before he started running track with Gene and Bill and fell in with them instead. 

He had shouted with disgust, and declared his friend was acting completely and utterly fucked in the head. Robert Leckie, pretentious asshole extraordinaire, sitting a row in front, had turned in his seat and with his dumbass smirk had said, “So, then, he’s acting like his normal self?” 

Burgie, still livid about the whole thing, turned to Shelton and told him, “Yeah. A real fucking Snafu.”

After that it just sort of stuck.

lead:

(from me and @guarnerepdf 's lovingly deranged french partisan BoB fic)

Friedrich had tried to insist that as lead for the mission, he should hold all the papers himself. But Isabella had argued incessantly that it would be odd for a man to be holding his brother-in-law’s identification. He could not find a reasonable rebuttal to her and had given up trying to express the deep dread he was feeling about this entire thing. No one was listening to him anyhow. Not the Commander, not Isabella, and frustratingly, not Pleun. Pleun was meant to always be on his side. But somehow, they all had been convinced that it was possible to get Andrews back to England. That they would be able to get away with it. 

[lollipencil]

Us Spawn of The Lords in Black: Part 7

Kept having the general idea of this part pop into my head while writing previous parts. Here seems like a good place for it.

Enjoy and be gentle ---

It was close to lunchtime when the next situation decided to occur.

Ted sat in his office, staring at the package on his desk. It was quite plain-looking: a simple brown paper bag with the top folded over, and a note paper-clipped to it.

The bag itself had appeared in the breakroom fridge at some point during the day. "Bill, did Paul bring in lunch today?" Charlotte suddenly asked as she poured milk in her coffee. "I... am not sure?" he'd slowly replied. "Only there's a bag in the fridge with his name on it," Charlotte gestured with the carton back at the fridge. "Oh. I must have not been noticing."

Charlotte promptly forgot about it, but Bill didn't. Because he'd seen Paul walk into CCRP that day empty handed.

With another sigh, Ted reread the note. "Not for either of you," it still said in shimmering blue ink. Between this and what was inside the bag, the actual sender was obvious.

A knock on his office door had Ted look up. Half with dread and the rest awkwardness, Paul shuffled in with Bill close behind, Beanie's order still in hand. "What happened?" Paul asked with the tone of someone being let towards a firing squad. "This arrived for you," Ted nodded to the bag and handed Paul the note, "You mind reading this for us?" At Paul's resulting look, he added: "Humour me."

Paul sighed but relented: "To my darling little echo, I have prepared lunch for you. I trust you will find it enjoyable." Bill and Ted shared a look. "I take it it doesn't say that for you both," Paul sagged as the implications hit home. "No, it does not," Bill confirmed. "Fuck."

Paul leaned against the nearest wall and eyed the brown paper bag werily: "Does it at least look edible?" "Well..." Bill visibly fumbled for an answer. "I think you should be the judge of that," Ted cut in, waving towards the bag. With no other option, Paul walked up to it, and looked inside.

It was a sandwich. The bread itself was fine, it looked to be Paul's prefered type in fact. No, the problem was the filling.

Bright blue, faintly glowing goo stuck both pieces of bread together. As soon as he spotted it, Paul felt two contradicting reactions stir deep in his gut.

Logical revulsion, and instinctual eagerness.

Silently, Paul picked up one of the sandwiches. Some of the ooze dripped onto his fingers. Ted retched. "I'm gonna be honest with you, Paul," he wheezed, "If you put that in your mouth, I might actually puke." "Don't think I've got much of a choice," Paul admitted, still caught between those two warring feelings inside of him. Bill cleared his throat quietly by the door, and shuffled in place.

"Okay, okay, okay," Paul closed his eyes and tried to psych himself up, "Okay, okay. Alright." And he bit down.

Almost instantly, Paul's mouth was coated with that thick sticky substance. Vaguely, he could hear Bill and Ted talking, but Paul found that the taste that had filled his mouth much more interesting. It was... There were no clear words that could describe it. Somewhat sweet but also kind of bitter and salty, with a faint chemical tang towards the end.

Utterly bizarre, yet oddly pleasant.

Sighing through his nose, Paul relaxed and opened his eyes. "Everything okay, Paul?" Bill carefully asked behind him. "Yeah," Paul said after managing to swallow, "I- I think I like it." "Please tell me you're fucking with us," Ted whined with disgust, cringing as Paul took another, bigger bite.

---

Deep in the Black and White, Pokotho hummed with delight as he watched its son happily eat his lunch. "Looks like the sandwich went well," Bliklotep noted, eye occasionally shifting to capture Bill and Ted's reactions. "Indeed," Pokotho sang, its audible joy making the Sniggles around it dance with even greater jubilation. One specific Sniggle, hand-picked from the group, flicked through a cookbook as they had been commanded.

After all, their Prince deserved only the best.

[aprocessionofthoughts]

Brothers

whumptober23 day 13- cold compress fandom- batman TW- sickness summary- Tim is definitely not sick. Jason disagrees.

ao3 whumptober23 masterlist

Tim feels absolutely awful. His head is pounding and he can’t even look at his computer screen to try and work through a case. Currently, he’s squinting at paper file about the latest suspicious shipments, but the words keep swimming in his head.

Maybe he should drink some coffee. Yup. That will definitely help. He stands up from his couch and manages two steps before dizziness overtakes him and he ends up on the floor. 

He groans and tries to push himself up but his arms tremble.

Whatever, the floor is pretty comfy anyway. But coffee. He tries to push himself up again. He can’t be weak. He can’t afford to be. He has to go on patrol tonight.

Which means he needs to be awake enough for it. So coffee. He manages to get up and stumble to the kitchen.

He’s in the middle of trying to steady his hand so he can pour the coffee grounds into the coffee maker when he hears his window slide open. He startles, dropping the coffee grounds which spill over the floor. He’s about to be sad about that, but then the vertigo from spinning around hits and he has to grip the counter to stay upright while fighting back nausea.

“Hey, Timberlina, I’m here to grab some files.”

It’s Jason.

Tim can’t help but feel annoyed. Jason has his own files. He doesn't need to steal Tim’s. But he doesn't want to open his mouth to say any of this because if he does he’s afraid he’s going to throw up.

“Tim?” Jason pokes his head into the kitchen, sees him catalog the dropped coffee and Tim who has a white knuckled grip on the counter to keep himself from falling over. “Shit, Tim. What’s wrong with you?”

Tim wants to give him the middle finger, but holding on to the counter is the only thing keeping him upright. So, he settles for scowling aggressively, but Jason just snorts.

Tim opens his mouth to tell Jason to get out, but immediately shuts it again as the nausea intensifies. He sways slightly before tightening his grip on the counter.

And wow, he should really be more aware of his surrounding because suddenly Jason’s in front of him reaching a hand out toward Tim’s head. He flinches back.

“Calm down, Timberly, I’m checking if you have a fever.

“I’m not sick.” Tim says through gritted teeth.

“Sure you aren’t.” Jason says but his hand is now on Tim’s forehead and he’s scowling. “You’re burning up.”

“I’m fine.” the nausea has subsided slightly, but Tim still feels dizzy.

Jason doesn’t dignify that with a response. Then he sighs. “Alright, let’s get you to bed.”

“I said–”

“You’re fine. I know. Which means you’re perfectly well enough to clean up the coffee grounds.”

Tim gulped, glancing down at the mess. The idea of having to bend down made the nausea spike.

“That’s what I thought. Now either you go lay down on your own, or I’ll carry you.”

“I–” 

Jason raised an eyebrow.

Tim took a slow breath and let go of the counter. He hadn’t even managed it one step before a wave vertigo overtook him and he felt his legs give out. He expects to hit the ground, but instead strong arms catch him and pick him up. Tim looks up into Jason’s face, but he’s not looking at him.

Jason walks quickly and Tim is promptly deposited onto his bed. Jason exits his bedroom and Tim wonders if Jason’s has left. But a moment later, Jason walks back in carrying a bowl, a cup with water, and a cold compress. 

“What…” Tim starts, but doesn’t know how to continue.

Jason sets the cup down on the bedside table, lifts the bowl saying, “If you need to puke,” before setting it by the bed. Then he lays the cold compress across Tim’s forehead and Tim sighs in relief. 

“I’ll let you get some sleep.” Jason says and turns to go.

“Wait–” 

Jason pauses.

And Tim really must be sick because he continues. “Please don’t go.”

Jason doesn’t move and Tim resigns himself to Jason leaving. But after a moment Jason sighs, going to sit down in an armchair in the corner of the room. “Fine. But you better get some sleep.” Then, out of one of his cargo pants pockets, Jason pulls out a small book.

Tim opens his mouth to tease him, but shuts his mouth as Jason starts to read outloud.

“Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her.”

And as Jason continued to read, Tim fell asleep.

[this-is-all-unreal]

My dear Friend

Part 10

Masterlist

No real warnings just a little spooky part. The rest of it is going to a mostly fluff. A fun idea I had about The Batfam going camping. I hope you all still enjoy it!

     The next morning was pretty standard. Breakfast was served and we all ate in mostly silence aside from the occasional sidebar conversation. Once almost everyone was done eating. Bruce told us all to stay seated. That he had something he wanted to say. 

       "I wanted to reward you all for your hard work and dedication so I have arranged for us all to go on a little family trip." He hardly finished his sentence before Tim and Dick high fived over the table. 

       "Alright! Are we going to Hawaii, maybe the Bahamas?" Dick asked as he leaned back in his seat with a big smile.

      "No, not that kind of trip. We are going outside of Gotham city limits to go camping. I figured it would be a good chance to brush up on some survival techniques." You could feel the excitement leave the air. There was a collective sigh. 

       "In what world is being away from my computer a reward?" Tim asked as he pushed his plate away. 

       "Yeah for once I'm with Tim. This is gonna blow, Bruce." Jason adds. 

      "You boys will have fun. Look, you don't see Margaret complaining." Bruce says as gestures to me down the table. 

       "Hmm? Oh I'm sorry I wasn't paying attention." It was a lie I realize but I didn't want to have to tell him how horrible this Idea sounded. He seemed happy about it. Jason laughed a little and stood up from the table.

       "You guys have fun playing boy scouts in the woods. I'll be protecting the city while you're gone old man." 

      "Fake a stomach ache. I can make you puke if he doesn't buy it." Felix interjected. It never came up before now but I guess he hates camping too.

       "I have already made arrangements for The Flash to do a few run throughs. This is a mandatory trip. Everyone is going, even Alfred." Alfred who had just walked in, eyes widened in surprise. 

       "I have to come as well Master Bruce? Oh goody." He says as he starts picking up the plates. 

       "Everyone go pack, no more than one backpack. Margaret stick around. I have something for you." Bruce says as he helps Alfred put the plates onto the serving tray.

      "Now's your chance quick tell him you don't feel well. You'll be a hero to the guys." Once everyone leaves Bruce gets up and reaches up in a tall cabinet and pulls out a gift wrapped in dark green and gold paper

       "Your birthday had passed by the time I met you so this is for you." He said as he handed me the gift. 

       "You didn't have to. I really appreciate it though." I say with a wide smile 

      "You haven't even opened it yet. don't say you appreciate it."

   Ignoring my friend I carefully unwrapped the box and opened it and inside was a stuffed animal of a turtle. He was so soft and his legs were filled with beads giving him some weight. 

      "You seemed to like the turtle figurine so I figured you'd like a bigger, softer one." Bruce said as he picked up the toy and handed it to me. I hug it close and can't help but grin. 

     "What does he think you are five?"

      "I love him, thank you!" I say as I stand up and hug Bruce. He was back to his normal unaffectionate self because he just patted me on the back and took a step away. 

      "Don't mention it, go get packed." I ran upstairs and pulled out a book bag Tim had given to me. I packed some clothes and a blanket. Of course I packed my new turtle who I still need to name. 

      "Don't bring that thing. The guys are gonna make fun of you."

       "No they won't. I want to bring it. He's cute." I say as I zip my bag. 

      I grabbed a few bottles of water and got in the van with everyone else. It was strange seeing everyone in such informal clothes. I don't think I have ever seen Alfred's knees. 

      Bruce was driving and Alfred was his copilot. We hadn't even gotten to the camp grounds and Alfred had already had us all put sunscreen on. Jason and Dick sat in the front row of the back seats and Tim and I had the farthest back seats. The ride was a little longer than I had liked but eventually we made it. We were surrounded by woods on all sides. There was a small building with stalls and toilets and sinks but no showers. Aside from that there was nothing. 

   The tents seemed easy enough to set up. Bruce and Jason could build a tent faster than I had ever seen. Dick and Alfred started on building a fire and Tim and I went looking for things we all could eat. He had a book full of local plants. He marked a few that looked less gross than all the others and the search was on. 

      "This looks like this thing we can eat but it also looks like this other thing that could give us a parasite so I think I will just leave it alone. How are you doing?" Tim asked as he walked over to me. Felix and I were picking berries from a tall bush. 

      "Alright you found mulberries! Here put them in this." He said as he sat a bucket down. It was like Felix was born to pick berries. He was dropping double the berries I was in the bucket. Tim came back with a few mushrooms he was 100% sure wouldn't give us all diarrhea and we headed back. The tents were in a circle around the fire and Jason had put a wire around the circle of tents. 

    "There we go. This way if anyone sneaks up on us we will know." He says proudly putting his hands on his hips.

     "Take that thing down, you are going to trip up a raccoon or something." Dick said as he grabbed one of the steaks in the ground that had the wire tied to it. The two squabbled over the wire as Bruce was roasting some hotdogs for everyone. Alfred took the berries and mushrooms to the restroom to wash them up. Meanwhile Tim crawled into his tent and pulled out his phone. 

     It was starting to get dark and everyone was still doing their own things while Alfred and Bruce fixed up some dinner. 

    I was sitting in a folding chair just staring off when I saw baby deer wobbling into view from the tree line.it couldn't be very old. I stood up and tried to get one of the guys attention but everyone was too busy and shooed me off. The baby deer seemed very interested in our camp so I slowly walked over to it. As soon as I got about six feet from it, it ran off. I followed the fawn wanting to see if I could find its mom. 

       "Careful Margaret. I can't see camp." I ignored him as I continued to chase this fawn who finally stopped In a clearing. I slow down and stand still looking at it. Their eyes are so big and dark. I slowly took a step closer and to my surprise it didn't run. I reached out my hand and petted its head. 

       "Don't touch it, it could have a disease or something."

        "It likes me, Felix look." I whisper. The deer didn't seem to be too afraid of Me. 

       "Oh look now you've done it. It's mom's here." I look around and see an older deer creep out from behind some trees. I pull my hand away and the fawn wobbles to its mom who licks its head. 

      "Here mommy deer. Can I pet you too?" I say as I kneel down trying to make myself seem as small as possible. She was even prettier than her baby. The mother stands her ground and just stares into my eyes. I looked past her and realized how dark it had gotten. Just as I looked away I heard a blood curdling scream making the deer run away. I stood up and looked around for the source but it had gotten so dark I could hardly see a few feet in front of my face. 

       "Felix? What was that?"

      "No clue but I don't want to stick around to find out." He said as he grabbed my hand and started to lead me through the woods. After a few minutes he lets go of my hand. "Don't freak out but we are lost."

       "What! How can we be lost? You never get lost!"

       "I said don't freak out! I'm going to fly up and see if I can see camp from the air."

       "Don't leave me!" I shouted but he was already gone. I looked around for a second then sat on a stump. I shouldn't  have chased that deer. I heard a twig snap so I looked up. I didn't see anything at first, making me assume it was Felix till I saw the big shiny black eyes of one of the deer looking back at me. It seemed to be peeking around from behind a tree.

      "Hey girl, is that mommy or baby deer?" I ask as I stand up to get a better view. 

       "Neither." An unfamiliar voice says.

Frozen with fear I stood there as the eyes looking right into my soul, seemed to levitate in the darkness. 

      "What are you?" I ask as I finally manage to speak.

The would-be deer steps closer into my field of vision but still seems to be hiding behind a thin tree. It was tall but hunching over. I could make out a long face almost like a deer's but it was only bone. The body was all black and almost blended into the darkness behind its form. Its limbs were long and thin, not unlike a spider's.

       "I'm daddy deer." It said as it wrapped it's arm around the tree it was standing behind. 

       "You're not real. I know this trick. I go running back to the camp and sound like a crazy person." 

        "But they all already know you are crazy." It spoke so slowly leaving me desperately anticipating every word.

       "All the same, just leave me alone! I'm not scared of you!" I screamed at it.

      "Liar liar pants on fire." It hummed. "Wanna hear a secret?" It asked me. The words rang in my ears. It's what the news lady said to me. I shook my head and turned my back to the creature. It laughed as twigs crunched behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck raised as it reached me. A hand fell on my shoulder and I turned around and slapped whatever it was as hard as I could. 

       "Ow Margaret!" A very confused Dick says as he holds his face. "I was talking to you and you ignore me now you're hitting me?" I looked past him and saw nothing but very dimly lit trees. 

       "You scared me. I'm sorry." I say sheepishly. 

       "I scared you? You are the one standing in the dark woods looking like an extra from The Blair Witch project or something." He said with a laugh. "Let's get going. Felix led me to you. He's a pretty useful little guy." He added as we started to walk back. I wondered if Dick thought Felix was a child like me. I never wanted to correct him though because hearing him talk about Felix like that always made me laugh.

      "He was the only one who didn't question it when I held their hand."

If Felix was with them then he couldn't have been the thing in the woods. I got goosebumps thinking about it. "What's wrong? You look pale."

       "Don't worry about it." I say softly. 

       "Hmm?" 

       "Sorry I'm talking to Felix." I say as we reach the camp. Bruce stood up and put his hands on his hips. 

        "I got lost." I say softly looking up at him. 

        "Your dinner is cold. Where did you go?" He asks as he starts making up a plate of cold food. 

       "I saw a deer and followed it. Then Felix and I started talking and lost track of time." I lied to him again but It was better than saying I saw a big creepy deer thing. Felix gave me a little shove probably because I pulled him into my lie. 

    "You were gone for hours. That's all you did?" Jason chimed in.

    "Hours? No I wasn't gone that long was I?" 

    "They all went out looking for you. I was ready to call for backup." Tim said as he sat on his phone still. 

       "That's weird. It didn't even feel like an hour." He was right, it didn't. 

      The rest of the evening passed by. I had my dinner meanwhile Jason and Alfred took turns reading out loud from some old poetry books. The evening was winding down and everyone crawled onto their own tents. Everyone had their own aside from Bruce and Alfred who shared the biggest one. 

      Getting into my sleeping bag was the easy part now I had to try and sleep. My new turtle friend was held tightly in my arms. I didn't think I'd be so afraid. Every sound was the creature in my mind. Every sound was something dangerous ready to pounce on my tent. Finally I couldn't take it.

       I got up and walked over to Tim's tent. To see if he was awake still. The jerk had put some kind of lock on the inside of his zipper. I moved onto the next one. I opened the extra large tent and crawled in. I didn't think Bruce or Alfred would mind if I slept in here. It wasn't five minutes before I couldn't take their unified snoring anymore. I moved down the line to Jason's tent. As soon as I opened the tent he shot up and looked at me. 

      "Can I sleep in here? I'm kinda scared." I admit as I get in. 

      "Sure if you want. And don't worry I brought this so don't be scared about any Intruders." He said as he pulled out a gun from his sleeping bag. 

     "Oh good Margaret, Jason has a gun. You must feel really safe now."

     "Are you sleeping with a gun?!" 

     "Well I'm not going to leave  a loaded gun in my bag now am I? That would be dangerous." He said as he laid back down and put his gun under his sweater he was using as a pillow. 

      "Nevermind, I changed my mind." I say as I get out. 

      "Suit yourself. You'll be thanking me for bringing this bad boy if a bear shows up." He said before closing his eyes again. I close his tent up and move to the last one, Dick's tent.

      "Great you guys can cuddle while he cracks some dad jokes."

      "Stop it, he's just a big softy. You shouldn't make fun of him like that." I say as I reach the last tent. I get in and Dick murmurs a little and opens one eye. Seeing it is just me. He rolls over and goes back to sleep. 

      Sleeping here was much easier than I thought. Morning came quickly and we all packed up. After a small breakfast we were on the road again. I never thought I'd be so happy to see the manor. 

Hey there! I'm going to try to do daily post but if I don't just assume a new part will be up the day after. I'm having alot of fun writing I hope you guys are enjoying the story. 😊

[thesandsofelsweyr]

Nobody had ask death and resurrection? Too bad, it's *very* JT title

(from WIP Ask Game)

Glad you asked because this may be by most twisted fic of all 😈 This is where I explore what happens after Jay wakes up from getting shot by Joker, how he expects to be dead but is very much alive for more torture. I previously shared some Joker Jay "banter" (😁) from this fic (first excerpt below the cut) but here's even more for you. Nothing too twisted since I don't want to spoil anything, hehehe

(Note that my Arkhamverse canon follows BAK: Annual, where Joker shot Jay in the head instead of the chest 🙃)

This had to be the worst hangover in the history of hangovers. He felt like a train hit him. Twice. Then dragged him down the tracks with it for miles. Why’d he let Nate talk him into going to that stupid party? Why’d he ever think it was a good idea to take not one but many shots of vodka? Fucking Russians. His eyes fluttered open and he blinked up at the blurry, spinning ceiling. Wait… this wasn’t his bedroom. He blinked again, and heard his eyes moving in his pounding skull. The awful sensation made him want to puke. And what the hell was that ringing?? He tried to reach up and touch the side of his head where the awful pain seemed to be radiating…

No…

A cold fist of horror wrapped around his throat, squeezing the air from his lungs. The ringing clawed at the inside of his skull like nails on a chalkboard. He tugged at his hand again, but it was no use. No no no. Both wrists were cuffed to the metal frame of the hospital bed.

“No,” he whimpered. Blood pounding through his ears as it all came rushing back to him like a tidal wave. He shot me. I was dead. He killed me. “No-no-no-no-no,” he cried as he frantically fought to wrench his wrists from the unrelenting steel of the cuffs. Metal scraped against metal, setting his broken teeth on edge. “No-no-no-no-no!”

He yanked at his hands with all of his remaining strength, trying to force them out of the cuffs. The metal bit into his flesh, peeling it away from his scrawny wrists. The bones in his hand shifted painfully beneath his paper-thin skin, but he barely noticed. He couldn’t care less if they broke again. He can’t stay here. He was supposed to be dead. He was supposed to be done with this place, this nightmare. He was supposed to be burning in hell right now.

“You shot me!”

“And it’s a good thing I missed! A teensy-weensy bit to the left and you’d have a new pair of wings, fighting the good fight with the big man in the sky.”

“Why couldn’t you just let me die? What more do you want from me?”

“Jeez. How many times do I hafta beat it into that thick skull of yours? You’re my partner!”

“You don’t shoot your partner in the fucking head!” Jason let his body fall back onto the gurney.

“You got me there, junior,” Joker giggled. “But you were about to divulge an intimate detail about my dearest friend that I don’t think he would’ve appreciated you sharing. I was only looking out for my pointy-eared pal.”

“Then why did you even ask me, you psycho?”

“I wanted to see where your loyalties lie. And let me tell ya, you made me one proud papa! I think I shed a single tear when I thought you were a goner.”

“Seems like I’m really fucking great at staying alive,” he grumbled.

“That’s the spirit! Even though you fail at every other aspect of your sad little life, you can always count on sticking around for more beatings! Now that’s a quality I can appreciate in my sidekick.”

…

“Welp, no use crying over spilled brain matter when we still have training to do! Time’s a wastin’!”

[vohunara]

it's nothing new that the scribe may, sometimes, drop unannounced at the door of his housemate. in fact, most of the times when it happens, it's to deposit a neat bag of freshly cut fruit after a knock, or simply to crack the door open in a chance that the blond may be bothered with Al-Haitham's nonsense.

it usually doesn't happen at around an ungodly hour in the morning, where people should be sleeping. Al-Haitham doesn't even announce himself with a knock, barely prying the door open before it slips out of his grasp.

' kaveh? '

a quiet call of his friend's name as he steps into the light barely dimming the room. from the little crack of the door, what can be seen is matted, sweaty hair, and a sliver of pale skin where healthy color should be on the young man's face. fire-ringed eyes blearily blink away sleep and a wetness that isn't present.

he reveals his problem almost bashfully, but matter-of-factly regardless:

' ...i puked. '

     Deep into the night is where Kaveh musters enough of himself to do anything he deems worth. Ideas ebb and flow when the pressure of living through the day eases off his shoulders, when it's simple and there's no expectations. In the end, it's just him, his tools and his books.

     He toes out of his room every now and then, careful not to exceed in volume, exist too loudly and disturb another. He rummages around the bookshelves in the main room and even those by the door to Haitham's space, intent on finding notes relevant to his current work. When he's back to his chair, one hand immediately keeps the right pages from closing in on themselves, and the other puts ink to paper.

     Kaveh, the calling is almost too meek to hear amidst the architect's intense focus, but it also reverberates with a timbre he wouldn't, at all, pin to such descriptor. ‘ Haitham? ʼ It's only after returning the call that Kaveh realizes he's reflected it.

     The upper half of his body turns in his seat, an arm supported against the backrest as Kaveh observes and waits. It doesn't require much to notice something is wrong and, thusly, does his stance not last as it is. The desk is abandoned in favor of the other, everything left behind as if no deadline had been looming over the blond — when al Haitham, of all people, seeks out help for his sickness, everything else diminishes in importance until they're but a detail too small to care.

     ‘ Oh, my... how are you feeling now? Was it something you ate? ʼ Fingers, still smudged with graphite, feel all over the Scribe's forehead and side of neck. They study his condition, and, as Kaveh wipes beads of sweat threatening to roll down the other's temple, he concludes. ‘ God, you have a fever! ʼ

     Any and all rights to protest are revoked. The tools once scattered on the mattress are pushed to the floor haphazardly and al Haitham is, soon, carefully ushered onto the bed, among Kaveh's covers and pillows. ‘ Stay here, ginger tea may help with your nausea. ʼ

[kingdomof-omens]

Having an idea for a fic is awesome until you go to write it, but you have no idea how to put the words down.

My current draft looks like my brain is puking random nonsense onto paper.

"(describe [this item] like I would to a 2 year old)"

"She sits at the [dinner? oak? that other wood?] table"

"He needs [synonym for 'supplies'] for (describe task)"

"[whatever the fuck this thingy is called] is in her hand"

[swimuntilseaturnsblue]

Chapter 22

重生之真不挖煤 by 萝卜桑1 Wildfire (Rebirth: I’m Really Not Mining Coal)

raw link：重生之真不挖煤_萝卜桑1著_长佩文学网

The first thing that happened when Xu Hao went back to school was getting pulled aside by Zhang Xusheng for a heart-to-heart.

Xu Hao had his backpack on and hadn't even sat down in his chair when Zhang Xusheng hooked an arm around his neck and dragged him off to the side. Their talk was all the usual stuff—what they ate during the break, what they did for fun, what pretty girls they saw. Zhang Xusheng angrily complained about not being able to find Xu Hao to hang out. Then came the important announcement: Zhang Xusheng was planning to study art and take the art exam route for university.

After hearing him out, Xu Hao showed a certain degree of understanding and said, "Bro, of course I support your idea, but how the hell are you gonna get your dad on board with this?"

That one sentence sent Zhang Xusheng plummeting from heaven straight down to the eighteenth level of hell. Xu Hao witnessed Zhang Xusheng's expression transform from beaming joy to utter misery in a split second and marveled, "Damn, Zhang, you really do have artistic talent! Just a few days apart and you've already mastered the art of face-changing?"

This pissed Zhang Xusheng off so much he pounded the table and shouted, "Hao! You've changed, man! You've gone bad! You used to be so nice to me!"

Wang Haoran was nearby collecting chemistry homework, and a stack of papers nearly toppled over. He said to Zhang Xusheng, "Could you not screech like that? If Xu Hao doesn't puke, I'm gonna puke, okay?"

Xu Hao immediately played along: "I'm puking, I'm puking, I'm literally throwing up right now."

After a few more jokes, Xu Hao went back to his seat. Just then, Yan Ze came in. The seating arrangement hadn't changed since the second half of sophomore year, so Yan Ze still sat next to Xu Hao. Yan Ze tossed his backpack onto his desk and asked Xu Hao, "What's up? Why so happy?"

Xu Hao waved dismissively. "Ah, just those idiots being idiots. How about you? Did you finish your holiday assignments?"

Yan Ze opened his backpack, pulled out several books and three or four notebooks, and dumped them on Xu Hao's desk. Then he slouched lazily into his chair.

Xu Hao was confused. "Why are you giving me your homework? Aren't you going to turn it in yourself?"

Yan Ze glanced at Xu Hao. "Aren't you always worrying about my homework? You turn it in."

Xu Hao was speechless. Just then, Wang Haoran came around to their area, and Xu Hao handed in both his and Yan Ze's homework. When Wang Haoran saw he was getting two notebooks, he flipped through to check the names and teased, "Why are there two sets, Xu Hao? Oh, copying Yan Ze's homework, huh?"

Xu Hao shot back, "Why couldn't it be him copying mine?"

Wang Haoran laughed. "Yan Ze's not that type of guy."

Xu Hao snorted, "The way you say it, am I that type?"

Wang Haoran chuckled, then asked, "Anyway, I'm done chatting. Haven't played in a while—you coming to shoot hoops tonight?"

Then he turned to ask Yan Ze too: "Yan Ze, you coming tonight?"

Xu Hao thought for a moment without answering. Seeing Yan Ze's gaze fall on him, Yan Ze lifted his chin slightly. He didn't immediately reply to Wang Haoran either, but instead asked Xu Hao, "Are you going?"

Xu Hao said, "Yeah, I'll go. Got nothing else to do."

"Alright." Yan Ze nodded and told Wang Haoran, "I'll come too."

Wang Haoran had only asked Yan Ze as a formality, since he typically skipped these activities. He hadn't expected Yan Ze to agree today, and from the sound of it, it seemed like he was only coming because Xu Hao was. Wang Haoran gave Xu Hao a curious look, but Xu Hao was completely oblivious and had already turned away to do something else.

When school let out, Zhang Xusheng didn't join them. He'd gotten a girlfriend during the break, and the two were inseparable. On this first night back at school, he couldn't wait to go on a date with her.

While they were playing ball, Wang Haoran teased Xu Hao: "Look at how Sheng-zi is going all out. You better get a move on. Haven't found someone you like yet?"

Right at that moment, Xu Hao had just gotten the ball. Yan Ze was standing next to him, and everyone had worked up a bit of sweat. As Yan Ze lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe away some sweat, he overheard Wang Haoran's comment. Yan Ze thought of something that made him pause, freezing in that position.

Then they heard Xu Hao casually reply, "Pfft, what's so great about having a girlfriend? I'm still a kid, okay? My studies come first."

Yan Ze had fine beads of sweat hanging on his nose. His hand loosened, and he let go of his shirt hem.

It was like Yan Ze suddenly realized something. He turned his head toward Xu Hao, who was also turning around. The molten sunset was splashing open behind Xu Hao's tall figure, painting the sky everywhere, yet somehow not touching Xu Hao's face at all.

Wang Haoran's words gave Yan Ze a vague concept that came out of nowhere.

A thought that had never appeared in Yan Ze's mind before now emerged like a seed soaked by early spring rain. At first, it had been hidden in the soil, unaware, until it gathered enough strength to break through. Only then did the life force of that tender sprout cause a belated shock.

Yan Ze thought, this person, this person called Xu Hao, would someday fall into a relationship called love with some woman, like anyone else, too.

Xu Hao stood with his back to the light, his face in deep shadow. But in Yan Ze's vision, he could make out that Xu Hao was vaguely smiling. How he smiled, the way he smiled, standing there carelessly lifting one corner of his mouth until the entire smile dissolved into the golden sparks of the sun.

Yan Ze thought about this person, this person called Xu Hao, how someday he'd probably end up falling for some girl and get tangled up in that whole mess people call love, just like everyone else does.

Xu Hao was standing with his back to the light, his face in shadow, but from Yan Ze's angle, he could make out the vague outline of a smile. The way he smiled, how he stood there all casual-like with one corner of his mouth pulled up until his whole smile melted into the golden sparks of sunlight.

For a split second, Yan Ze felt like something inside him got crushed, wringing out these thoughts that were almost painful.

Why though?

While he was zoning out, a ball smacked right into him.

Xu Hao jogged over a couple steps and snatched up the basketball that had bounced off Yan Ze's body, then casually slapped Yan Ze's shoulder. "What's on your mind?"

The spot where they made contact felt like it got zapped with electricity. Yan Ze stepped back with the force of Xu Hao's shoulder pat, feeling his whole left side going numb. He stood there dazed for a while before finally saying, "...Nothing."

Since the two of them were just standing there not passing the ball, Wang Haoran shouted from the other half of the court, "Everything okay over there?"

Xu Hao tossed the ball back, saying, "All good."

Then he turned his face back to check Yan Ze's expression. Yan Ze had plenty of color in his face, but he looked kinda out of it. Xu Hao gave him a puzzled look. "You got something going on?"

Yan Ze felt like the whole world was spinning.

His heart felt like someone had poured a bucket of hot oil into it, sparking and expanding, then rapidly contracting, making it hard to breathe.

It took him forever to find his voice again. He said, "...Yeah."

Xu Hao looked at Yan Ze for a moment, feeling like he was definitely acting weird. He turned around and called out to their classmates, "Hey, got something to deal with, I'm done playing."

Then he motioned to Yan Ze, "Let's go."

On the way, he picked up both their backpacks and jackets.

Yan Ze followed Xu Hao toward the school gate without saying a word.

As they were about to exit, Xu Hao handed Yan Ze his jacket. Yan Ze silently put it on, then Xu Hao said, "Zip it up." Without looking up, Yan Ze pulled the zipper all the way from bottom to top. Since Yan Ze usually wore his jacket open, Xu Hao only now realized it was actually a turtleneck.

But damn, Yan Ze was being weirdly obedient.

Xu Hao completely forgot to give Yan Ze his backpack and asked, "What's going on with you?"

Yan Ze's reaction was slower than usual. "What?"

Xu Hao just stared at him. "Didn't you say you weren't feeling well? Are you okay or what?"

Yan Ze lowered his head again, standing there like a post, not saying anything.

Xu Hao waited a bit, but got no answer. He had no idea what kind of "not feeling well" Yan Ze was experiencing, so he said, "If you're really sick, we should go to the hospital. If you think you're okay enough, I'll get you a cab to go home?"

Yan Ze really hated hospitals. He said, "I'm not going to the hospital."

Xu Hao said, "Then go home." Just then, a taxi came along the road. Xu Hao waved it down, and after it stopped, since it was still early in the evening, he put his hand on the car door and asked, "Want me to take you home?"

He turned and saw Yan Ze's pitch-black pupils, like he'd been staring at him for a long time, and when their eyes met, he seemed caught off guard and about to look away.

But Yan Ze's gaze trembled a little, and he didn't dodge.

Yan Ze lowered his voice, sounding a bit hoarse as he said, "Yeah, sure."

Yan Ze got in the car first.

Xu Hao hadn't expected Yan Ze to agree so easily. He hesitated for a second before getting in after him.

Yan Ze's place wasn't far, but with traffic, it would take about twenty minutes. Neither of them spoke after getting in the car. Xu Hao stared out the window for a while, then remembered his parents weren't home right now, so he might as well grab dinner out.

Right then, Yan Ze, sitting beside him, spoke up, "You hungry?"

Xu Hao rubbed his stomach. "Starving."

Yan Ze said, "I know a place nearby that's pretty good. My treat."

Xu Hao figured there was no need to be polite with him, so he said, "Sure, why not."

Then Yan Ze gave the driver an address. The driver made a turn and stopped in front of a pretty fancy-looking Japanese restaurant.

They got out, and Xu Hao followed Yan Ze inside. The place wasn't crowded, but from the decor, it was obviously expensive. Xu Hao didn't think there was anything weird about Yan Ze treating him to this kind of place, though walking in wearing school uniforms with backpacks felt a bit off.

But what Xu Hao cared most about right now was whether the food would come out fast, because he was seriously starving.

Yan Ze knew his way around this place. A server in a kimono led them to a very Japanese-style private room. Xu Hao tossed his backpack aside, slipped off his shoes, and sat down. Yan Ze was still standing outside, asking him what he wanted to eat. Xu Hao said, "You pick. Just make sure there's some meat for me."

Yan Ze rattled off a few items to the server, then took off his shoes and joined Xu Hao, saying, "You like beef? The wagyu here is pretty decent."

Xu Hao got even hungrier hearing that. "Hell yeah! I love beef! Man, I had teppanyaki a few times in Kobe, and that beef was insanely good."

Yan Ze sat down across from him, rubbed his nose and smiled a little. Xu Hao propped his arm up and said, "You know, I've figured out you're a really weird dude."

Yan Ze's smile faded a bit. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Xu Hao shrugged. "Can't really explain it. Just feels like, sometimes you're not that hard to get along with, but most of the time, I have no clue what's going on in your head. Can't figure you out."

Yan Ze's eyebrows furrowed. "That's your take on me?"

Xu Hao said, "Not entirely. I mean, you've got plenty of good points too."

As soon as he said that, Yan Ze's eyes shot right over to him. Xu Hao gave an awkward laugh and continued, "Like, uh... like how I buy you some cheap street food, and you turn around and get me fancy Japanese. What do you call that? That's returning a wooden peach with a jade peach—super classy of you."

Yan Ze clearly wasn't satisfied with this answer. He said quietly, "That's nothing."

But Xu Hao couldn't think of which direction to take his compliments, and right then the appetizers arrived, so he focused on eating instead.

Yan Ze was genuinely picky about food, so when he said a restaurant wasn't bad, you could bet the food was legit. Xu Hao cut into the steak in front of him. The beef was juicy and tender, topped with this special brown sauce—so good it made his taste buds melt.

After eating, Xu Hao stood at the entrance feeling rejuvenated and energized. Looking at Yan Ze, he seemed pretty satisfied too. Xu Hao asked him, "How you getting home?"

Yan Ze jerked his chin to the left. "It's close. I'll walk."

Xu Hao said, "Cool." Then he pointed in the opposite direction. "Guess I'll head back too."

As he was saying this, Xu Hao was about to turn and say goodbye to Yan Ze. Before he could even take a step, his eyes suddenly caught someone.

Then, like he'd been punched out of nowhere, Xu Hao stared at a spot in the distance and backed up two steps in complete shock.

In Xu Hao's line of sight, a girl was walking toward them.

She was the kind of girl who'd catch your eye in any crowd—definitely pretty. Her long hair was tied up in a high ponytail, and she looked about their age, wearing another school's uniform, walking along the street in their direction.

Even after all these years, Xu Hao could still spot her in a crowd right away.

It was Lin Xiao.

Even years later, Xu Hao could still spot her instantly in a crowd. It was Lin Xiao. Lin Xiao? Seriously?

Xu Hao's expression changed so dramatically that Yan Ze immediately noticed something was off. He started turning his head to follow Xu Hao's gaze.

By now, Lin Xiao had gotten closer. Being stared at like an idiot by some random guy her age on the street, she noticed Xu Hao's stare almost at the same time as Yan Ze did. But Lin Xiao was clearly used to being looked at. She just gave Xu Hao a slightly puzzled glance in return.

That look hit Xu Hao like a bolt of lightning exploding in his brain. He instantly tore his eyes away, but Yan Ze had already turned halfway around. Without thinking, Xu Hao grabbed Yan Ze's shoulder and yanked him back.

Too late though. Yan Ze had already caught a glimpse of the girl. Lin Xiao's gaze shifted from Xu Hao to Yan Ze, and for a split second, they locked eyes.

Xu Hao's grip on Yan Ze unconsciously tightened, a bit too hard.

Xu Hao had to admit it – he was freaking out.

Yan Ze obviously felt that Xu Hao's grip was off. He didn't keep his attention on the girl for long, just a quick glance before looking back at Xu Hao's face. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked.

Lin Xiao walked by them, her eyes lingering on both Yan Ze and Xu Hao for a couple extra seconds. Xu Hao's weird reaction had caught her interest, but now Xu Hao's eyes were nailed to Yan Ze like he didn't even notice anyone else existed. Yan Ze was also staring at Xu Hao. Neither of them paid any attention to Lin Xiao, and a girl like her was too dignified to make any strange moves toward two guys she'd never met, so after that brief glance, she just walked on.

Once he saw from the corner of his eye that Lin Xiao had finally gone far enough, Xu Hao slowly, dazedly let out a breath.

In his previous life, he hadn't met Lin Xiao until college. Why was even this timeline getting pushed up?

Looking up, he saw Yan Ze still watching him with this scrutinizing look. Xu Hao belatedly let go of Yan Ze's shoulder and asked, "What did you just say?"

Yan Ze said, "What are you so nervous about? You know that girl or something?"

Hearing that sent Xu Hao into panic mode again. "No way! Never seen her before."

Yan Ze narrowed his eyes, sized Xu Hao up, and snorted, "You don't even know how to lie properly."

Xu Hao got even more flustered. "I seriously don't know her! What's up? Don't tell me you know her?"

Yan Ze stared straight into Xu Hao's eyes. "What, you scared I might know her?"

Xu Hao's mind went blank. He didn't respond.

Yan Ze was right. What freaked him out most right now was the thought of Yan Ze connecting with Lin Xiao ahead of schedule. Thinking back to all those conflicts in his past life, the root cause had been just one woman.

Because in his previous life, Xu Hao and Yan Ze had both gone crazy in college and fallen for the same girl.

Her name was Lin Xiao.

Yan Ze's gaze drifted past Xu Hao's side. Clearly, Lin Xiao wasn't walking very fast – he could still see her.

Yan Ze took a step forward.

As they brushed past each other, Xu Hao grabbed his wrist.

Xu Hao had wondered more than once: if Lin Xiao hadn't existed, would things between him and Yan Ze have gotten that bad in his previous life?

Were all these intensified conflicts inevitable, or just random chance?

Had Yan Ze ever actually considered him a friend?

Xu Hao took a deep breath and said, "Yan Ze, don't go."