#like how is this more exhausting than my other jobs (it's probably the boredom)

[quilleth]

It's spring break next week which means I get to work from home, which means my brain is like "we can work on ALL THE PROJECTS!! *elmo fire gif*" when realistically, knowing myself, I will *maybe* work on like one thing, not make much progress, and be mad at myself by the end of the week for not getting more done.

I'm sort of learning (through some group therapy) how this ties into my adhd but that just makes me kind of squint at it like "ok but how do I NOT do that then?"

Anyway there might be a local doll meetup in early May so let's see if having some kind of timeframe kicks my ass into finishing customizing moshang xD not that I'll likely bring them because they're so big but still. Maybe dollhua can come since he's the smallest of my bjds. Or I'll just bring my little mermaid and the bunny bjd, since I do plan on testing the liquid varnish/ matte medium for sealants because msc is such a finicky bitch.

And looking at the waiting rooms, seems like dream valley is right about 6 months, so I should have the vanora head hopefully by early June and can spend summer working on her and Faolan. Hopefully.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Down Home 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The world's most famous heroes walk into a small town diner and change your life.

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Note: Because of this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all to Jupiter and back. Take care. 💖

It’s a slow day. Every day is slow out in Tumble Down. The township’s name tells the whole story. Everything there is in decline. It’s hard to imagine there was ever a time when the people weren’t tiny and forgotten in the hubbub of the bigger world. Since the mines closed and the canning factory was outsourced, it feels even smaller. 

Smaller isn’t so bad. It’s simpler. You all know each other’s names and faces. You say hi and how are you and do what needs to be done. Simple is, simple as. 

You here there isn’t much to do in most small towns. Not for fun or for work. You’re one of the lucky ones. You got a job down at the diner in your sophomore year. It helped pay for your daddy’s new engine and since then, it keeps you all afloat in the rising waters of disparity as they close in on Tumble Down. 

You hum to the old radio that sits on the shelf you make sure to dust. The speakers crackle from time to time and the signal gets wonky in storm season, but the music’s never bad. It’s the classic stuff that always played in your mother’s kitchen. 

You wipe down another table. Not because it needs it, just because it’s something to do. The day has been long and listless. Even the breakfast rush was lower than usual. 

Darnell, the cook, whistles along from the back. Everyone knows he isn’t as mean as he looks. He just likes his space. 

As you go back to the counter and lean on it, staring at the ticking clock, a roar cuts through the distance. You blink and look up, narrowing your eyes at the dusty country road outside. Wind rustles through the tall wheat in the field opposite and the noise rumbles closer and closer. 

A man pulls in a motorbike. He’s going so fast that he has to circle the gravel lot before he can slow down. It’s not Lenny and his prized Harley but another man on a more modern-looking mount. Not far behind, another motorcycle zips through and the riders straddle their bikes as the survey the restaurant. 

You narrow your eyes. You probably need glasses but you make do. The last time you got your eyes checked, you didn’t have enough for the frames. 

The one man wears blue and red, an odd helmet on his head. Not a helmet at all but a sort of mask. The other man has dark hair to his chin and a beard to match. He’s all in black but his left arm shines with gold ripples. Not a sleeve, an arm, made of metal. 

“Oh my lord,” you murmur in shock, “Darnell!” You holler over your shoulder, “you’re not gonna believe this.” You turn to the window as he pokes his head around, “not sure I do myself. Tell me my eyes aren’t lyin’.” 

He looks above your head, an easy task for the mammoth cook. He hums and swirls around his spatula. “Thems those boys on the news. The one that was in the old war. Grandad’s battle.” 

“I’m not going crazy with boredom?” You bubble. 

He snorts. It’s as close to a laugh as you get from him. You spin back and hurry around the counter to grab a pair of menus. Still, you don’t want to seem too eager. You put down the menus and fiddle with a napkin holder instead. 

The bell over the door jingles and swipe up the menus and turn. You really can’t believe it’s them. Yet, as Captain America removes his cowl, you’re certain. They look just like they do on the TV. Even with your sight, you can tell. 

“Hello, fellas, how are you doin’ today?” 

The dark-haired one, the Winter Soldier, glances at the other, his cheek dimpling, “well... we’re... uh...” 

“We’re doing great,” Steve Rogers answers brightly. “Starving. You guys serve bacon? My buddy’s dying for some.” 

“Um, yes, sirs, yes. Can I sit ya down?” You ask, hugging the menus closer. 

“Please,” the Captain accepts as the other man stays silent and pensive, his eyes wandering down to the coffee stain on your apron. 

“Just here,” you sweep away and wave them on with you. You stop beside the nicest booth and lay down a menu on each side, “have a seat.” 

They do just as you bid. The blond puts his cowl on the table and unhooks the shield from his back to lay on the far end of the seat. He smooths back the sweaty strands of hair as his companion stretches his metal fingers. You sway nervously by the table, twitching as you remind yourself how to do your job. 

“Well, can I get ya started with coffee? You look beat from the road.” You beam with the smile Mr. Welk says could outshine the sun. 

“Not just the road,” the dark-haired one mutters as he rolls his shoulder. The one that connects to his real arm. “I’ll take one, please.” 

“Can I get an orange juice, please,” the Captain asks. 

“Course ya can. I’ll be right back. You have a look at the specials and give it a think,” you bounce and spin around. 

You go to pour the orange juice and a cup of black coffee. Darnell lingers by the window. He only ever really appears to put a plate up but he watches the new arrivals. 

You bring their drinks and step back, clasping your hands behind you. 

“Did ya need cream or sugar for your coffee, sir?” You ask. 

“Black’s fine,” he assures. 

“No need for the sirs. Steve, Bucky,” Captain America insists, “we’re off duty.” 

“Right, sorry about that, ssss...Steve,” you correct yourself. “You need some more time?” 

“Think I’m decided,” Bucky intones, “what about you?” 

“Set,” Steve confirms, “I’ll have the sunny side up with toast and sausage. Can I get some fruit on the side as well, please?” 

He hands over the menu and you take it as you hold your smile. Your cheeks ache. Not because you have to force it but because you can’t stop. This is the most exciting thing to happen in Tumble Down ever. If Darnell wasn’t there, no one would believe you. 

“Overeasy, bacon, extra bacon too, and some french toast, and uh... home fries.” Bucky offers up the second menu, “please and thank you.” 

“Alrighty,” you preen, “I’ll put your order in.” 

“Got it,” Darnell growls over the empty diner. 

“He’s got good hearing,” you giggle nervously as you look between the men. “Ummmm, sorry, I’ll leave ya be.” 

“You’re not bothering,” Steve assures. “I can see you’re dying to ask.” 

He gives a gentle smile. 

“Nah, oh, gosh. I’m sure ya get it all the time. I don’t wanna be one of those,” you put your hands up. “Really, you all look like you could use the peace and quiet.” 

“Well, actually, I’ve been stuck with this meathead for days,” Bucky scoffs, “so please, I’d love to hear someone else’s voice.” 

You laugh again. They’re funnier than you expect. They always look so serious on the TV. 

“What... what are y’all doing here in Tumble Down? It’s a bit far from... anywhere.” You ask sheepishly. 

“Tumble Down? Is that what it’s called?” Steve scratches his neck above his stained collar. “Well, we couldn’t get a signal so we’ve just been riding through. Saw the sign down the way and figured we’d get a bite.” 

“He’s lying. He was falling asleep on his bike,” Bucky teases. 

“Sure,” Steve shakes his head. “Only ‘cause I’m tired of you.” 

You giggle again, “I thought y’all were friends.” 

“Friends, partners, cursed with each other, have your pick,” Bucky snorts. 

“He’s playing,” Steve says. “Look, we’re boring. Despite what you think. We’re a couple of old men bickering with each other. What about you? What about Tumble Down?” 

“Ah, nothing really, sir. Steve,” you squeeze the menus tight at the edges. “Nothing going on since the coal law and that. Everyone’s all but run out. All but us.” 

“Just you? Your family?” Steve wonders. 

“Jesus, Steve, nosy much?” Bucky says over the brim of his mug. 

“Sorry. He’s right. Like I said. Crotchety old man. I talk to the pigeons.” 

You laugh again, “oh my, you are a hoot!” You slap your thigh emphatically, “I’m still my ma and pa. It’s just the three of us. They need help with the animals and that.” 

“Animals?” Steve wonders, his posture shifting towards you. 

“Chickens, cows. They got a farm. Was my grandpa’s. And his ma kept it going after he didn’t come home from... well, you’d know more about that time than me, I think.” You give a forlorn look to the floor. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry about your grandfather. Great grandfather,” he corrects himself. 

“Lotta good men gone,” Bucky mulls grimly. 

“Yeah, my great granny said as much. I wouldn’t know though, but I heard the stories,” you dare to look at them again. “Sorry to bring up the bad memories.” 

“Nah,” Bucky waves you off casually. “I got this nifty arm outta it.” 

“And I got a shield so, you know, not all losses,” Steve chuckles. 

“I s’pose,” you agree. “I’m gonna check on that food for ya. You good with your coffee?” 

Bucky raises the mug, “delicious.” 

You nod and turn with a swish of your skirt. You go up to the window and look over the ledge. “How’s it going, Darnell?” 

“Going. I’m happy it ain’t Raylene here. She’s got a mouth on her, don’t she? Them sort don’t deserve that trouble,” he tisks. 

“They’re nice. And Raylene is too. She’s just... Raylene,” you say, “can I help with anything?” 

“I don’t wanna be rude but I’m tired of tellin’ ya to stay outta my kitchen. You know the grill likes to spit,” he shakes his head. “You go, I’ll let ya know when it’s ready.” 

“Alright,” you back away and turn back. 

Steve and Bucky lean over the table, their voices low as they chat. As you move around behind the counter, they both sit up and the former clears his throat. You smile as you take the cloth from your apron pocket and wipe the already clean counter. 

As the radio buzzes, you hum without thinking. Stevie Ray Vaughan’s smoky voice mingles with the emotion plucked through electric strings. Your dad’s a big fan. He has old tapes with concerts on them and even went to one himself. 

The bell rings and you nearly jump out of your shoes. You turn and scoop up the plates as you thank Darnell. He grumbles that he’s going out to have a smoke; his code for having a Tootsie Pop by the backdoor. 

You bring the meals over to the table and set them down before the men. Their gazes make you sweat. It’s all a little more intense with no one else there. 

“Thank you,” Steve says and Bucky echoes him. 

“Not at all. Anything else? Water? Ketchup?” 

“It all looks great as is,” Steve says, “you got a nice voice.” 

“Oh, really? Ha, I was just humming out of tune. Sorry if I was too loud.” 

“Not at all,” Bucky picks up his fork as he leans forward. He tilts his head. “You know this one?” 

“Sure do. It’s Fleetwood Mac,” you answer. “One my all times.” 

He grins and nods as he looks at Steve. Steve watches you with a smile of his own. 

“Do you sing?” He asks. 

“Me? Only in my shower or to the chickens. They usually hide in the henhouse then.” You tinkle with laughter. 

“Ah,” Steve nods. 

“But if... if ya really wanna suffer, I could try it,” you smile, “but uh, you know, Stevie Nicks, she’s one of a kind.” 

“I’ve had worse,” Steve says. 

You look between him and Bucky. You chew your lip and think. You follow the song as you try to recognise which verse it is. You squint and perk up as you catch your place. 

“You just let me know when you’ve had enough,” you say before you start. Not only can you tell your pa that you met the super soldiers, you can tell him you sang for them. It’ll be a nice bit of excitement for the dinner table. 

[prettyboykatsuki]

Ari, if you feel like it, I desperately need you to elaborate on Alpha!Nanami....

referencing this post

gender neutral reader, no curses au.

cw for dubcon bonding (bc of heat)

jaskdksdj im not like. a nanami girl but i think the idea of average salary worker nanami who is an alpha is super funny and very in line especially because i think he really goes out of his way to hide it.

like. he really doesn't enjoy anything about it contrary to popular belief. the ruts exhaust him and he doesn't like being treated different as a result of his secondary sex so at his job, i think he hides his status and lives as a beta for the most part.

in my head - he ends up meeting you at his work. you don't work like... for his department. you're in like IT or some similarly isolated position at his workplace and he just. KNOWS. right away. it's so bothersome for him KDSJF

not only does he not like the idea of having a fated pair (guy who believes love is a choice etc etc) but he also finds you being his co-worker sooooo awful. he just finds the whole thing troublesome.

for an omega, you have an extremely blase and frank personality. nanami brings his work computer to you and you're new to the department or something. and as you both come to the realization that you're each others fated pairs - you barely react. nanami is in distress and you're just like 'oh? you're my pair huh?' AND THEN GO BACK TO YOUR WORK WITHOUT A SINGLE COMMENT.

and like. nanami is so confused he ends up going back to his desk. but like. that's definitely something you should talk about right? he barely knows your name and number so he goes back determined to at least find out your name. once he gets over the shock of having a fated pair he like rlly takes a second to notice you

AND IT STRESSES HIM OUT!! he invites you to lunch and asks you to tell him about yourself since he's a super responsible guy and you talk a sloths pace and you're entirely too nonchalant about everything. you don't wear scent patches as an omega, you're not really on any medications either, your heat is irregular, you don't think of yourself as an omega at all, you skip meals. every detail stresses him out more and more.

a lot of people mistake nanami for being the kind of person who like. really willingly wants certain dynamics and i dont view that as true. for him, encountering you as the disaster you are is the first time in his life he feels like he is an alpha and he means that in the worst way possible KDJSFJKS. like you stress him out so much he's like FUCK. i need to get their shit together or IM gonna get stressed out.

so nanami ends up spending a lot of time with you mostly just trying to sort your life out for you but he finds that.... you're very? relaxing to be around? nanami at one point feels like he lives to work and doesn't work to live imo.

but you're not like that. nothing seems to really bother you. you're like... an adorable unconcerned sloth. and sure you could be a little more conscious but it really relaxes him to hear you talk because you view everything very simply and don't worry about whats not in your control if you don't have too. and you're weirdly, crazy endearing when you show expressions other than sleepiness or boredom.

you like. weirdly melt his stress away. he finds you so soothing to be with and it's his first time really feeling like he's acting on instinct because he gets rlly gradually possessive as he realizes how attractive you are an omega. there are probably a lot of other alphas who would kill to be with someone as comfortable by as you

he becomes soooo fond of you its genuinely very scary for him. like as you get closer in your relationship and the distance closes - you end up snuggling him on his couch and he's so content and he ends up scenting you like some kind of overexcited teenager because you are so STUPIDLY cute like that. you sometimes even tease him about it and that is sooo bad for his heart.

he kind of loses control around you dkjskj. when he bites your nape for the first time, its because you've gone into heat and he loses his mind because fuck you smell so good and you are so cute when you are begging for his fucking knot that he ends up fucking you with your arms pulled back and digging his teeth into your nape until you're all cozy again.

once your heat passes he literally prostrates himself in front of you after the fact. ITS SO FUNNY DFKJS. he drops his head down to the floor bc its sooo out of character for him. in very you fashion though, you sort of shrug and tell him "im glad you're my fated pair, nanami-san. you're a good alpha," and he just. implodes internally. he's thinking about how to get married like days after and he's so seriously in love with you even though he's still kinda stoic

to him you're like. the only good thing that comes out of him being an alpha LOL

[queenimmadolla]

Hey, me again! Sorry to bother you but I wondering if I can send a request about my favourite family (but of course remember to take the time you need to write this or completely ignore this request if you don't like it)? I was thinking about the reader coming back home from an afternoon with the other girls and once she comes back, she sees the most adorable scenario she has ever seen. Eddie and the other boys sitting on the tiniest chairs ever, wearing tiaras, make up, fake earrings, playing having tea with Penny and her stuffed animals. Idk, I thought it was cute😅

But Again, feel free to ignore this request if you don't want to write it. Thank you and I hope you have a nice day❤️

this was such a cute request for them and i enjoyed every single second of writing it. i hope i did it justice and i hope you enjoy!

𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐞𝐚 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬

(girl dad!eddie munson x mom!reader/pregnant!reader)

warnings: imagery of men in terrible makeup and mentions of pregnancy (reader is pregnant) more penny, eddie and reader (and baby wayne) adventures here :)

If someone were to have told younger you, you’d be a mom before you were the age of 21, you probably would have punched them in the face, strictly because of the implication and the jinxing. While having a baby was something you entertained after seeing a particularly cute one out in the world or something, you weren’t overly fond of the idea of raising a tiny human with someone or even on your own. You considered yourself much too selfish for that. 

  …However, if someone were to have told you you’d have Eddie Munson’s–one of three local freaks and town urban legend in the making—babies, you probably would have given them the keys to your car and maybe the deed to your parents’ home.

  Your crush on the metal head had a lasting effect on you. When you’d actually begun dating him, falling head over ass in love, being with him was all that mattered to you and it didn’t feel pathetic because it was all he wanted, too. 

  Immediately after graduation came marriage and then Penny, your cute little Oopsie as Eddie referred to her when she was in your tummy. You preferred it over his original nickname for her, which was Creampie, seeing as how he was sure that was how she’d been conceived. You forced him to change it.

  Of course, since you had said baby with another on the way, you had to provide for them. Eddie had already been employed at an autoshop—his skill with the mechanics of a car was probably what led to Penny’s conception, you just couldn’t help yourself when faced with Grease Monkey Eddie—and Eden got you a job with her at her father’s firm as his partner’s receptionist.

  It worked out pretty well, Eden didn’t have a car so you’d pick her up before work since she’d rather jump off her roof than drive with her dad, who was also her boss, then afterwards you’d drive back to the trailer where Eddie and Argyle would be waiting for the two of you (if Argyle wasn’t off, she’d chill with your little family until he came to get her because she didn’t want to go home and you couldn’t blame her).

  Normally, your job wasn’t super stressful, you’d just been exhausted lately, though you didn’t exert yourself (Eddie would never allow it). 

  Today you had felt every agonizing second of the work day, it had been so slow. You’d done all the filing, made all the copies, called all the people, there just hadn’t been as much going on as usual and after you’d managed to make it to lunch time, the last half of your shift was spent staring across the room at Eden, both of you blinking owlishly at each other, staring contests, trying to get paper airplanes to reach the other, anything to stave off the boredom. Suddenly, you couldn’t wait til you could take maternity leave. 

  After work, you’d both practically sprinted to your car, the ride was spent bitching about the work day. The closer you got to your home, the more life you felt began to fill you; energy the work day had sucked away returning to you at the notion of seeing Eddie and Penny.

  If you had known exactly what you’d be walking into, you may have transcended into a higher level of joy.

  You and Eden were still chatting as you shut your car doors, still shedding the weight of the work day. She’d been talking about moving in with Argyle, something she was desperate to do but her parents were still hesitant about when you unlocked the front door, pushing it open for her.

  Eden had walked through the doorway and stopped, causing you to run into her back. 

  “What’s the hold up?” You asked, peering around her shorter frame. The sight made you gasp.

  “Hi, honey!” Eddie greeted you, grin so wide it almost looked like it hurt.

  Eddie, Argyle and Jonathan—always dragged around with Argyle—were crouched in tiny pink plastic chairs (much too small for them to actually allow their weight to rest in, lest they break them) around the small table in the living room, which was cluttered with various kitchen utensils and Penny’s pink tea set. 

  Not an unusual sight, since they always indulge your three year old. What was new was the bright colors adorning their faces.

  Eddie had on bright purple eyeshadow (complete with poorly replicated wings of eyeliner), cheeks powdered with an even brighter pink and lips coated in a deep shade of red lipstick, meticulously applied judging by the precision. Pink clip-on earrings dangled from his lobes and around his waist was one of Penny's pink tutus—stretched to its limit.

  Argyle’s long dark locks were in two high, messy ponytails. His eyes were decorated with a blue eyeshadow (ruined with various marks and stains of mascara), cheeks powdered bright red and lips a coral orange. His tutu was purple and his earrings were red.

  But Jonathan…oh, Jonathan. His eyeshadow was pink, cheeks pink, and lipstick a bright red. Penny was always more gentle with Jonathan, for some reason. His makeup didn’t look as messily applied as the majority of Argyle’s and Eddie’s. Unlike with them, Penny had attempted to draw on eyelashes for him, and he had smatterings of glitter sporadically around his face. Not only did he have one of her pink tutus and green earrings, he also got the privilege of wearing her favorite pair of fairy wings.

  He refused to make eye contact with you, staring into the tiny, plastic tea cup clenched in his hand.

  “Hi, babe. What happened here?” You asked, hand moving to hide your smile, though you were pretty sure it was obvious. Penny—dressed in her pink princess dress and a purple feather boa, pretty little face also covered in makeup with a plastic crown carefully placed on her head to make sure her curls didn’t get tangled in the combs of it (Eddie had to have put it on her)—returned from the hallway closet where her toy box was located, arms full of her stuffed animals, all of which she dropped the moment she saw you.

  “Mommy!” She squealed and you squatted down to allow her to run into your arms as Eden stepped out of the way and disappeared into your room. “LOOK, MOMMY! I made daddy and unca Ahgle and unca Johnny puddy!”

  “Uh huh,” was all you could say without laughing. 

  “We awe having a tea pa’ty.” Penny informed you after she’d unwound her arms from around you, giving your baby bump a gentle pat before she ran back over to scoop up her stuffies. They were placed in the other empty plastic chairs surrounding the table and actually looked like they fit in the tiny seats, unlike the grown men.

  “Do you think I’m pretty, mama?” Eddie asked, batting his eyelashes at you with his red lips pulled into a mischievous smirk. Eddie was no stranger to makeup, you’d done his eyeliner for gigs plenty of times and he could now do it on his own, but that only involved lining his waterline and tightlining, not wings. 

  He and Jonathan had silently stared at themselves in the bedroom mirror, self reflecting on how they got themselves in this position, for longer than either of them would care to admit. But Eddie would do anything for Penny and he knew you would get a crack out of seeing him like this.

  Argyle was too high (it was a perpetual thing at this point, he’d been stuck in a high since back in high school) to care, although he’d wanted his ponytails braided and Penny wouldn’t allow it.

  “I think you’re something,” You offered through your giggles and Eddie chuckled along with you, stopping only when a flash of bright light momentarily lit up the room and blinded him. 

  Eden lowered the Polaroid camera she’d retrieved from your room, plucking the picture that whirled out. 

  She shook it briefly and examined the developing photo with a careful eye before she smirked. 

  “Oh, this is a good one. I gotta make a copy of this for Nance.” 

  Jonathan stood up then, kind of. His butt was still stuck in the tiny chair so it went with him. “Eden, give me the photo.”

  Eden took that as her cue to take another one, cackling as she grabbed the film. 

  Jonathan began to advance. 

  “Eden—I mean it, give me the pictures—EDEN!” He shouted as she bolted out of the front door. He ran (as best as he could with a tiny chair attached to his ass) after her with Argyle following him to play instigator. 

  “Run, baby, run!” Then when he realized he’d be in both pictures as well, “GET HER, JONATHAN!”

  Eddie was howling with laughter, causing Penny to join in even though she hadn’t been paying attention to what was going on. Once he calmed down, he stood up from his chair, pulling the thing off of his hips, he moved it to the side and sat on the carpet, patting the spot between his legs to beckon you over. 

  You set your bag on the counter and went over to join them, settling between his legs as you leaned back into his chest with his encouragement for cuddles. Eddie pressed a kiss to your forehead, no doubt leaving a kiss stain as Penny set a little tea cup on a plastic plate down in front of you.

  “He’we you go, mama.” 

  “Oh, thank you, Penny!” You lifted the teacup by its tiny handle and pretended to take a sip. “That’s very good!”

  “Yes,” she stated, pleased and already distracted with arranging her stuffed animals in their seats.

  “Long day?” Eddie asked, mumbling against the side of your head as he continued to press kisses wherever his lips could reach. He’d clocked the lingering bits of tension and stress on you the moment you’d walked into the trailer, he also swore he had a sixth sense tied to you somehow, because he could always tell when something was wrong. He’d get bouts of anxiety at work and come home to find out you’d had a terrible day, so he’d taken to just calling you when the feeling popped up. 

  He hadn’t been wrong yet.

  “Yeah,” You sighed, turning onto your side as you burrowed further into Eddie and the soft shirt he wore. “It’s better now, though.”

  He hummed as you lifted your head, lips puckered.  With a grin, he closed the small distance, giving you your ‘welcome home’ kiss.

  “Awww!”

  You broke away, the two of you smiling as your attention was drawn to your daughter, who looked shy and had a small smile of her own as she wrung her little hands together.

  “You kissed.” 

  Eddie chuckled, chest shaking against you. 

  “We’ve kissed before, baby.” He pointed out. She’d witnessed you exchange thousands of (appropriate) kisses in front of her but lately she’d been cooing every time Eddie showed you affection. You thought she may like seeing you two love each other like the couples in the cartoons she watched.

  “Yes.” She giggled into her little palms, shoulders rising as she became even more bashful.

  You shook your head in amusement, raising a hand to rest your chin in, thumb absentmindedly stroking over your lower lip. You were surprised to see a shade of red over the skin of your thumb, considering you’d worn a nude shade of lipstick.

  Oh. Eddie’s lipstick. Right.

  Then you got to thinking about it, the gears in your head turning as your eyebrows furrowed. 

  “Eddie?”

  “Yes?” 

  “Where’d you get this makeup?”

  Eddie and Penny exchanged nervous glances and there was a long pause in between your question and his answer, deciding to try to get out of this like his daughter often tried to.

  “Yes.”

  “Eddie, is this my makeup?!”

  “Baby, I have to go pee, can you move real quick?”

  “You’re not getting away, answer the question!”

  Yes. It was your makeup.

[tim-shii]

the stakes are high, the water's rough.

pairing: nagi seishiro x reader

tags: office au, office worker!nagi, he is not a football player in this, established relationship, fluff, introvert office worker nagi my beloved 😓

a/n: i love love love the ours mv by taylor swift so i was like ykw why not nagi office worker ,, makes u wonder what would happen if nagi didnt play football and became a pro hmm HAHHAHA my irls also helped w what do people even do in an office so ty to them theyre the best 🫶 enjoy this mwa also thank u nie babe (@fuyuluvr) for beta reading may kith ka sakin 😚

the morning air is definitely not good for the lungs. in a busy city, long gone were the fresh and cool winds of the province. instead, fog and vehicle smoke fill the atmosphere, smothering people on their way to work. 

what a dull world to live in, nagi thinks. making his way towards the elevator after mindlessly showing his identification card to the probably half asleep desk attendant and high-fiving the friendly janitor who never fails to greet him every morning. 

ding! as the doors slid open, nagi could feel himself melting to the ground. it’s 7:54 am, office hours start at seven. he’s late but so what? it’s not like his boss cares enough for attendance. because of this, he gets an extra 10 minutes to sleep in. so why? why is the elevator so full of people that he has to squish his 190 cm build who’s carrying a briefcase? sighing dejectedly, nagi thinks he should’ve just taken the stairs. 

it was silent. other than the constant whirs of the elevator going up, no one dares speak a word. it makes nagi cringe, to be honest. he feels like he’s in a room with a bunch of npc’s just trying to do their role. as soon as the lift stops at the thirteenth floor, nagi is pushed left and right as his fellow employees rush to their desks.

nagi walks over to his desk sluggishly. each step just adds to his growing boredom. the office is still the same as ever. the coffee that toppled over yesterday is still left unclean and the corner plant who has seen better days. 

dragging his feet to his assigned cubicle, nagi sat down with a huff. looking around, he notices mr. takahashi, his senior who has worked here for more than ten years, standing in front of the water dispenser just staring into space. yep. this will be a long seven hours.

throughout the day, nagi felt nothing but exhaustion and endless boredom. his boss was nowhere to be found, as usual. he went to three different printers in the office and not a single one of them worked. he couldn't even concentrate on the report he was working on because the beeping from his co-worker's game almost made him pull out his own console and neglect his duty. during lunch, two people whose names nagi didn't even care to know about kept snickering while looking back at him eating his melon bread. how bothersome, indeed.

as soon as the clock strikes four, nagi wasted no time in tidying up his things. rushing towards the exit, nagi even ditches the elevator and ran down the stairs instead, he high fived the janitor for the second time of the day. 

while on the bus, nagi decided to play games to pass time. taking in his homescreen wallpaper. a picture of you two at a park, his arms around you from behind, his cheek squished against your own. you beaming at the camera and him having the most miniscule smile ever known to man. 

two years ago, you got an offer to study abroad in an exchange student program. at first, you refused, not wanting to leave nagi behind and came along were the doubts if you're even gonna survive in a foreign place all on your own. but nagi talked to you about it and urged you to just go, he'll be fine. he was not fine. during the first week, nagi couldn't sleep. he felt homesick in his own home. at some point, he's even thankful his job is everyday and keeps him away from home, nagi can't believe he ever thought that.

and now, nagi's on his way to the airport. to pick you up. because finally, after two whole long torturous years, you're coming home. to him. 

nagi waits at the doors, anxiously tapping his feet. looking ahead, his eyes met yours and all of a sudden, the world doesn't seem so dull anymore. he watches as you run towards him, dropping your baggage at your wake and throwing yourself at him. arms around his neck and legs around his waist, nagi holds you tightly as if he's afraid to let you go again. he pulls your face back, his palm feels warm on your cheek. 

"hi, sei. did you miss me?" you whispered, oh so delicately. nagi didn't utter anything back, only staring at you. eyes wandering around your features, rememorizing the face he's only been seeing inside a tiny box for the last two years. nagi leans in slowly, taking your lips in his. he kisses you with longing and fervor.

"missed you. i missed you so much." you heard him mumble into the kiss. pulling back only to hide his face in your neck, nipping at the skin before putting you down.

"let's go home?" you ask him, hands cupping his face. he nods.

home. nagi thinks it's a nice word when you say it.

likes and reblogs are appreciated! masterlist

[pomogando]

darkheart x reader fluff

pelase PLEASE

Melatonin

A Darkheart x reader

Darkheart wants to try sleeping, but you're busy.

No content warnings, comfort and fluff. Not much to say here. Sappy warning !!!!!!!

1300+ words, oneshot, romantic

Rain tapped the glass in a soothing lullaby. You yawned, the computer screen a harsh contrast to the beautiful night. You have been working on this report since the morning. It was dark now. Winter always made the days feel shorter, or maybe it's just that you didn't have as much time as you thought.

You let out a cry of annoyance as you stared at your unfinished draft. Causing your shadow to chuckle as it wrapped its hands around you, a gentleness you wouldn't have thought possible for Darkheart. He was careful, clawed hands that treated you like porcelain. As if one scratch was just too much to risk.

He laid his head on top of yours, and you sighed as you felt yourself start to relax. The chaos deity had a calming presence unlike any other.

You got used to him appearing out of seemingly nowhere.

A frail but stubborn wing wrapped around you, Darkheart had been awfully clingy recently, not leaving your side for a second. You knew the reason, of course. He disappeared for a month on short notice. It wasn't the first time he had done that, and it's not something you could hold against him. Darkheart never told you exactly what he did, and that was fine. You just wish he stayed with you longer.

You were good at pretending his infrequent visits that had unfortunately become common didn't bother you.

You stared blankly at the meaningless words on your screen. A finger playfully poking your nose snapped you out of your boredom induced trance. His hands were cold.

"I'm busy, love." You mumbled, absent-minded, exhausted, bored. "Can't you wait till after I'm done to mess around?"

He giggled, and his laugh had a threatening aura to it. You remember it used to make you feel unnerved, but not anymore. It was charming in its own right despite the way it made others shiver.

"Why wait? Time is fleeting for you." They moved their free hand to pull on your cheek, making you groan in annoyance. He had been getting more touchy, as if he didn't want to be apart from you for one second. "Mortals are so curious.. spending your little life on menial, boring, repetitive tasks." He looked over your shoulder at your computer, studying the screen.

"It's not... well." You cut yourself off with a huff. You felt the need to explain how journalism wasn't boring, but at this time, you couldn't help but agree. You wrapped your hand around his, squeezing it gently before, hesitantly, letting go. It was comforting for the small moment it lasted.

"We don't think you mind as much as you're saying, anyhow." Darkheart hummed, cutting off your thoughts. You felt his hand brush against yours for a moment, but you moved it away to type. His firm smile seemed to falter, but only slightly. You might've not even noticed if you weren't paying attention.

"I needed this done by yesterday." You yawned, clearly uninterested in the gossip piece assigned to you. If you were, you would've had it done already.

"It is quite late for you, don't you think?" He pouted. "When was the last time you slept? We recall it wasn't yesterday."

"If I don't complete this, my boss will probably yell at me. I can't lose this job." You mumbled, you had almost forgotten, darkheart wanted to sleep with you. He had become curious about sleeping after you had fallen asleep near him way more than once. He wasn't even sure if he could sleep in the first place. He never tried. He didn't need to. You looked back at the screen, feeling a bit guilty for a reason you didn't understand.

"We will stay by your side until you're finished." It wasn't really a proposal more than it was him stating his intentions. You felt his arms wrap back around you, and his wing fluttered softly. He was anything if not stubborn, probably making sure you don't stay up all night.

Darkheart was practically attached to your hip. You appreciated his gesture, more than he would ever understand, but it was hard to work when he was watching your every click. He had an aura that always made you want to ignore your responsibilities and just lay in his arms. That was something he encouraged, unfortunately for your productivity.

To Darkheart, the work you were doing seemed like meaningless garble. Garble that he did not care to understand. "Maybe when I'm done, we can lay down together." You say nonchalantly, still looking at your screen. "I'm almost done anyways." You lied, but it was more for yourself than Darkheart. He seemed pleased by your lie, humming as his wing fluttered in delight. His grin widened.

You had to admit that you were stalling at this point, not wanting to look at the open word document. You hesitantly looked away from Darkheart.

So, for an excruciatingly long time, you sat at your desk. You stared at your screen. You typed meaningless text.

Your fingers are against the keyboard. You started to feel fatigue setting in at full force. At some point, you weren't sure if you were typing actual words at this point. You weren't sure what you were even writing about. It was about an actor, right? One whose name you didn't care to remember the name of. You wonder if Darkheart had thought about you while he was gone. Whatever it was that he went to do.

Your fingers were against the keyboard. Your eyelids got heavy as your keyboard clicked. The sound almost became like a lullaby. You weren't writing actual words anymore. You weren't writing at all, actually. Just staring at the screen. It looked like a blur of black and white. You could still hear the lullaby. It wasn't the computer

Your head started to lean against the keyboard. You heard Darkheart say something you didn't entirely understand. The lullaby paused. It felt like your fatigue from the last few days had completely overwhelmed you all at once. The keyboard had started to feel as soft as a pillow. "I'll just rest for a second before continuing.." you said, half asleep.

You heard an annoyed huff right before cold hands gently picked you up. Your exhausted body relaxed almost immediately. You should've finished the paper, but a part of you didn't care enough to. Not that he would've let you go in the first place, nor would you have typed anything.

"We were getting a bit impatient." Darkheart sighed. "We waited quite a while to see you, just let us be with you." You were half asleep, only seeing the sharp green glow of his eyes as he laid you on the bed. The bed felt the same as it always had, but when he pulled you into his arms, it felt like you were floating on a cloud. He held onto you tightly as if you hadn't seen each other in years. A clawed hand reaching to move a strand of hair out of your eyes.

He pulled you closer to him. He loved you. He wasn't like you in any way, but he loved you. Everything you did down to your breathing. Enamored by your laugh and smile. You were mortal, easily hurt. He wanted you to be by his side for eternity. How could someone like you be only mortal when you were so much more?

"I love you, I'm sorry." You mumbled, relaxing in his arms, neither of you were sure what you were apologizing for.

"We're sorry too."

You felt a pleasant rumble come from Darkhearts chest, similar to a cat purring. It felt nice. His embrace was all you wanted. Your warmth was all he wanted. You felt your eyes close, hearing the lullaby again.

The paper could wait, or maybe you'd just never do it. It didn't matter, you had eternity.

[agaypanic]

Reader with a shit ton of piercings dating Benny and he thinks they’re the coolest things ever!! he gets her straws after getting her lip pierced, playing with her belly button piercing and will randomly say “did ya know my girlfriend has her nose pierced” or wtv ect,,, hes just obsessed with reader and her piercings🤭

Benny Weir With an Girlfriend With Piercings

Masterlist

Request Something!

***

BRO IS SO OBSESSED WITH YOU

The minute he sees you, shiny with metal, he’s a goner

Benny always asks which ones hurt the most/least, how long you’ve had them, etc

The septum piercing is probably one of his favorites

After school, you and Benny had a bit of a routine. You’d walk to his house, either picking some food up on the way or making something, and then go to his room to unwind. This usually meant watching TV, playing video games, or napping.

Today, Benny chose to play some games while you wanted to nap. Not wanting to be too far from you, Benny dragged you into his lap while booting up his computer. You molded yourself against him, almost immediately dozing off.

You woke up an hour later, and Benny was still playing his game. You watched with tired eyes, occasionally moving your septum piercing around with your lips out of boredom. He paused the game, and when you looked up to ask him why, he was already looking at you.

“What? Want a kiss?” He asked, catching you off guard. 

“Huh?” 

“You keep making kissy faces at me.” He laughed like you were playing a game with him.

“No, I’m not!” It was your turn to laugh, first out of confusion and then in realization. “I was just moving my piercing around.” You puckered your lips slightly to move the jewelry back and forth to show Benny. He rolled his eyes.

“Those are kissy faces, Y/n.”

“Well, I’m sorry for giving you the wrong impression.” You giggled, and Benny shook his head, adjusting you in his hold before going back to his game. You didn’t miss the slight pout on his lips. Grinning, you took Benny’s face in your hands, and he paused the game again.

“Do you want a kiss, Benny Baby?” You asked, enjoying the way his eyes lit up at the nickname. Instead of saying yes, he puckered his lips. You let out a small chuckle before kissing him.

Benny always tries to be helpful when it comes to your piercings, especially new ones

keeps supplies at his house for you to clean your piercings

accompanies you when you get new ones, always holding your hand and fighting you about who’s paying for it

“Okay, breathe in.” Your piercer instructed. You did as you were told, closing your eyes and squeezing Benny’s hand. As you breathed out, the needle went through. “Good job.” They cleaned everything up and let you see your new snake bites in the mirror.

“You took that like a champ, babe.” Benny praised you, kissing your cheek. You smiled softly at him through the mirror; anything bigger would make your mouth sore.

Your piercer took you to the front counter to pay. While you were grabbing your wallet, Benny gave them the money.

“Benny, I can pay for my own piercing.” You lightly scolded, but he didn’t take it to heart.

“You can take care of the tip.” He suggested it as a compromise, but this was routine. Every time you went out, he was quick enough to pay the bill before you, so you would give the tip. So because it was routine, you did it, and soon, the two of you were walking out of the shop.

“I can pay for my own things, you know.” You said again. Benny swung an arm over your shoulder, shrugging.

“Yeah, but look at it this way. You get the piercing you want, and I get to admire you even more than I thought I possibly could.”

“You’re such a dork.”

Sometimes he plays with your piercings

When they’re fully healed, of course

Half the time, Benny’s doing it absentmindedly, and the other half, he’s doing it for some kind of stimulation

Whenever he was exhausted, Benny, more often than not, would be using you as a pillow while you did something. Hands always found their way up your shirt while he rested on you. Luckily, he was always warm.

Occasionally, you’d feel a light tug on your belly button. Not enough to hurt, but enough to notice. And if you listened closely, there would be a tiny rattle of metal against metal.

Looking down at your stomach, you watched Benny play with your belly button piercing. He’d go from lightly flicking the jewelry to tapping, to twisting, and then back to flicking. He wasn’t even paying attention to his actions, eyes glued to the TV screen.

You smiled down at him, taking a hand to drag through his hair. He relaxed even more against you, sighing in relief. Benny kept playing with the jewelry, but more softly as your actions pulled him to sleep.

Whenever he sees a piece of jewelry that he thinks you’ll like, he gets it for you

Because of him, you have a big ass collection

Don’t even get me started on nipple piercings bro

[mercy-burning]

(preface) the letter. || THE DOCTOR.

in which the doctor sets our scene. content warnings: N/A word count: 759

series masterlist || main masterlist

———

Dear Mom,

It feels strange to do this knowing that you're not actually here to read my words, but writing to The Idea of You somehow feels more comforting and less dorky than writing out "Dear Diary". Besides, I wouldn't be able to send them out to you anyway. No-contact with the world outside of Sardinia is my one condition to, truly, the best option I have.

It isn't the island in the Mediterranean, though. I've been sent to live in Sardinia, Alaska as a call-in doctor for its residents, even though I have no professional medical training whatsoever. I'm qualified enough to figure it out and be at least semi-proficient at the job, but it's not something I'm particularly eager about. Mostly because it's completely out of my control and I'd also rather not do it alone. I know it's for my safety, and my team is the best at what they do. In no time at all, I'll be back home and doing the job that I'm actually qualified for. I'll have my friends back... My family...

But I can't think about them like that right now. If I'm going to get through this "assignment," we'll call it, then I'm going to have to detach and move forward. When there's news, it will come, but until then I plan to do exactly as I'm expected to, and lay low. It shouldn't be too hard, though. All I really have to do is come when people call and give them the treatment to make them feel better. It's geographically the smallest, and physically the least-populated town I've ever visited, anyway. How hard could it possibly be?

The hardest part I'm sure will be boredom, but if that's the largest worry I'll have, then so be it. Being bored is better than being dead.

Until then, I have a semi-secluded cabin to myself right on the edge of town, with approximately seventeen warm knitted throw blankets (I'm still finding new ones here and there the more I explore the home) and a small painting of a cardinal above the front door. I look at it every morning over a cup of coffee and wonder about what Gideon would do in my shoes, until I laugh to myself and realize that he'd probably just do it every day with a smile and genuinely never want to leave. I'm like him in a lot of ways I think, but... I'll admit that I've been a bit too spoiled with my life in the city to even think about enjoying my time here to the fullest like he could.

For instance, I've come to realize that I don't like the snow as much as I thought I did. It's tolerable and sometimes even pretty when there are city workers who magically plow the sidewalks on your commute to work. And perhaps growing up in Nevada and wishing for a snowy Christmas morning all my childhood had tricked me into believing that it was magical, but I'm of the firm belief that snow is only 'magical' when you don't have to tend to it nearly every day. Some days are better than others, when there's only a light dusting for a week or two, but I've only been in Sardinia for two weeks and three days, and I'm utterly exhausted on physical labor alone. I could call my landlord to do it for me, as she'd so wryly offered to when I moved in, but I already feel like an outsider as it is. So rather than asking someone to teach me how to fix and use the rickety old snowblower in my shed out back, I have promptly decided to suffer in silence and keep my dignity intact.

Who knows, by the end of this Alaskan venture, I may also just be strong enough to take Derek Morgan in an arm-wrestling match... Well, okay, definitely not, but at the very least I'd be able to catch him off-guard for a second or two before his inevitable victory.

Anyway... Aside from greetings from my landlord and the Mayor, I haven't officially met any of the people in town yet. I think they're all still a bit worried about immediately bothering the call-in doctor and not giving him enough time to settle in first, but he's also not really made an effort to do much exploring outside the perimeter of his cabin and its backyard... To his credit, he doesn't do well with change. Never has.

Perhaps the quaint community of Sardinia doesn't, either, and perhaps that's something we'll have in common.

[mel-tokio]

genuinely do not understand why so many people seem to have the philosophy that the bad things in life are what make us appreciate the good things.

i just expressed to my mom that i was glad to have nothing to do this weekend after being so busy these past several weeks, and she was all, "that's what makes having a job good. it makes you appreciate days like this more!" and tbh i'm jealous she's been able to go through life with that attitude, even if it is just a coping mechanism, because i don't relate to it even the tiniest bit.

to me, happiness isn't just the absence of pain — it's its own force. and on days like today, i don't feel happy. sure, i feel relieved to get a break, but i'm not capable of truly enjoying any activities i do in this state. i just feel more numb than anything — and i'm glad to feel numb because i'd much rather feel nothing again for the rest of my life than have to continue feeling as stressed as i do every goddamn day.

on the other hand, if i somehow magically came into enough money that i could retire tomorrow, i know for a fact that i would feel genuine joy most days once i recovered from my current burnout. i don't want to have some sort of grand adventure; i want an uneventful life where i can wholeheartedly appreciate the beauty in the little things.

if i could quit my job now, i'd just read and play video games and watch tv five or six days a week, and then i'd visit friends and family the other days and actually enjoy spending time with them rather than just feeling exhausted from the social exertion. and then after getting maybe a year of rest to get my stamina back up, i'd hopefully have the energy to start volunteering for causes i care about and put my effort into something that actually matters instead of wasting 40 hours a week helping shitty businesses that probably treat their employees like garbage improve their seo. and for the first time in months, i'd be able to feel real happiness for more than like, 30 consecutive minutes.

i just...don't get how i'm supposed to be okay with this. how am i the crazy one for not finding any of this shit fulfilling? for wanting to actually be happy instead of just grateful that things aren't worse? for not thinking boredom is worse than pain? i just want to be able to pursue the good things in life instead of just running away from the bad things. but as long as i need to keep working for a living, i don't think that will ever happen.

[ronniescribbles]

Tiny CuRickosity (Wonder Day)

Flesh Curtains!Rick Sanchez x Little!Reader

Rainbow Week 2022 (created by @whimsycreator)

629 Words 

“The world is filled with wonder and beauty. Life is mysterious.” – After a long night of performing, Rick shows you how he truly feels about your regression.

You can read it on AO3 here!

A/N: Day 3 of Rainbow Week! This is my first time writing for Rick, so I may have went a little off theme, but I wanted to have extra fun with it💗 p.s. I struggled so hard with this title😭

Rick was exhausted, you could easily see by the bags under his eyes darkening more than usual. A full night of bar shows would do that to you, for sure. He fumbled with his guitar, examining it for marks and scratches. His focus seemed to be on nothing in particular, though, just flipping between channels of distractions. 

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

Moonlight partially illuminated the inside of the tour bus, which was less of a tour bus and more of a dingy, poorly customized, and probably stolen RV. The lumpy seats and rust on the door handles didn't help, either. Though despite how unmanaged the vehicle felt, the scrawny man beside you made it feel like home. 

You, on the other hand, were restless beyond control. Sitting in the green room and waiting for the night to end seemed easy enough, but god if it wasn't the single most uneventful 'job' you could have. Rick always reminded you that you were his good luck charm, and that he enjoyed having you around, but you only got to see him briefly in between breaks. 

You'd stashed some coloring books in your backpack to ease the pang of boredom, knowing that you'd probably slip into headspace if left alone. With all the noise backstage, it was hard to calm down, even with your noise-cancelling headphones. And as always, with your luck, you found yourself pulling out your gear right as the gang barrelled through the door. 

Now, Rick knew of your little side and seemed to approve in some sense of the word, but after a night of performances, it wasn't something you felt comfortable bothering him with. It was easy to unintentionally get on Rick's bad side when he was exhausted; you just didn't want your little self to be too much on him, especially not right now. 

"B-uugh-babe, what are you- why the hell are you staring at me like that?" 

With a few harsh blinks, you realized you'd indeed been looking at Rick this whole time. 

Crap.

"Uh, I don't know, I'm just.. tired. Really tired. Yeah."Very smooth, you scolded yourself, before he had a chance to respond. 

As expected, he cocked half of his unibrow in disbelief, but seemingly shrugged off the urge to press further. 

"Yeah sure, whatever. You're lucky I'm tired. Just- just come here, yeah?" 

Rick lifted his thin arm for you, and without hesitation you slid beside him. It felt nice to let gravity go and feel his warmth next to you. You felt his hand rub your shoulder, the spiked bracelet he donned for shows poking against the fabric of your band tee. 

Rick made you think a lot whenever he was around. Not necessarily in a bad way, just a curiosity that made you wonder about the world in a way you usually didn't. Maybe that's why you found yourself leaning towards your regression more when he was around; he was a smart guy, and in any case, who wouldn't become tiny at the thought of aliens and spaceships and adventures? 

"Uh.. Rick?" You peeped, trying to disguise your big voice's faltering. 

He made a short noise in response. 

"Can's you..," you sighed, trying again, "can you talk about the planets you've been to?" You pouted at your growing inability to stay big. 

Rick chuckled to himself. 

"Well, uh, I remember that one time we played at Buttworld  – they go-ughh-gotta whole lotta butts there." 

True to your little nature, the word "butt" sent you into a fit of giggles. 

"I knew that'd get you," Rick smirked. "Y'know, you really don't have to hide that sh..shtuff around me. I mean, really, do you know how much I've seen in space?" 

Maybe you didn't have to worry about being a bother around Rick, after all.

[total-killer-brainrot]

Hey There Stranger

You paused briefly to take another sip of wine, and nearly jumped out of your skin as the radio at your side crackled to life.

“You done already, sugar? I was just starting to enjoy myself…”

---

You use your old CB radio to help blow off some steam.

---

All my fics are also on AO3

Not Beta Read. Rating: Explicit. Length: 1,472. Ship: Rusty Nail x You. Fem!Reader. Tags: Sexism, Bad Work Environment, Voice Kink, Drinking, Drunk Sex, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Humiliation Kink, Praise Kink, Begging, Tattoos

---

Today, like every other day spent in your gruelling, exhausting existence, was awful.

Running an auto shop solo, in the middle of butt fuck nowhere, as a young woman, was possibly the worst choice anyone could ever make. 

Your long days were spent either dying of boredom, baking in the hot sun, or getting cussed out by some uptight city fuck boy who refused to believe that you knew more about cars than him. So few of your customers were decent people. In the last week you could probably count two that didn’t make you want to rip your hair out. 

Right now you were suffering through yet another obnoxious douchebag screaming at you because he was so sure you were overcharging him. You just stood behind the counter and watched him tucker himself out with a blank stare on your face. Too exhausted to even bother blessing him with a reaction. The door dinged behind him as another customer entered. An older guy, trucker by the looks of it. He gave you a short nod then waited behind the asshat still ranting in your face. 

By the time he had reluctantly paid and left you wanted to break something. Instead you forced a smile and greeted your next customer. Expecting another jackass old guy telling you how to do the job you’d be doing since you were young.

“Some people…” he tutted. Tipping his hat lower so you could barely see his face. Just his stubbled chin and the cigarette held between his lips.

You blinked in surprise. Getting empathy from a trucker in these parts was rare indeed. 

“Right? Fuckin’ audacity man…” You shook your head gently as you relaxed. Something about this guy put you at ease. Perhaps it was his voice. So deep it rattled your bones and made your brain buzz pleasantly in your skull. You could listen to him talk all day. 

Unfortunately for you he wasn’t very talkative. Polite, well spoken, but didn’t say a whole lot. Still you were surprisingly entranced by this stranger. Something about him drew you in. You weren’t the most perceptive person but you could just tell there was something unique about this older guy. But to your disappointment, he left with another nod goodbye before you could figure him out. And you were left with the lingering smell of coffee and cigarettes and the image of his smirk under that dirty old hat.

During your long, lonely shift you did allow your mind to wander. It wasn’t often a guy walked in here and caught your eye. And you’d never see him again. So why not indulge in a little harmless fantasy to get you through your boring workday. Was it really unprofessional to get off at work if you had no customers and were your own boss? Perhaps yes. So it all had to be in your head unfortunately.

-

Once home you were exhausted. Emotionally and physically. And you were still pent up and imagining that one unusual customer in all manner of compromising positions during the rest of your work day. 

Your bed creaked as you flopped down heavily, half full glass of wine in your hand, the rest of the bottle in your other. Already a little tipsy from your first glass. And already well into your second. Fully preparing to spend the night enjoying yourself to wind down from another stressful day of work.

When the most delicious idea popped into your head.

In the corner of your bedroom sat an old CB radio. Dusty from years of being forgotten. Despite the machine’s age, you still knew it like the back of your hand. Years of talking to your pa while he was on the road. It took you a minute to set it up at the end of your bed. Heart skipping a beat excitedly as the familiar crackle of the radio coming to life hit your ears. 

You flicked it to an empty channel. As fun as the risk was, you didn’t want anyone to actually hear you. Just the thought that someone might stumble across this channel by chance was enough to make your thighs press together. Just tipsy enough to think this was a good idea.

It didn’t take you long to rid yourself of your remaining clothes. Splayed out across your sheets with the little handheld microphone pressed close to your lips. A delicate sigh escaped you as the tips of your fingers slid through your folds and the tension started to seep out of your body. You let your eyes flutter closed as you allowed your imagination to run wild. It was easy to conjure some make believe man on the other end of the radio. Listening and guiding you along as your fingers pressed down gently on your clit. There was no rush. You could take your time and enjoy the slow build of pleasure. Letting your moans fill the radio channel with no need to quiet yourself. 

You paused briefly to take another sip of wine, and nearly jumped out of your skin as the radio at your side crackled to life. 

“You done already, sugar? I was just starting to enjoy myself…”

You gaped at the little machine. Face turning hot. How long had this rando been listening? Had he heard everything? Was he jerking off right now? And… Why did that voice sound so familiar? You had to slog through your hazy thoughts for the owner of that perfect growl. Then it hit you. The older guy who had come into your work. The whole reason you were doing this to blow off some steam. You sat up slowly. Keeping your eyes on the radio like it would attack if you looked away.

“Can’t be getting all shy on me now… keep going.” 

His voice was firm. No room for argument. And that voice really did something for you. You could practically feel the way you dripped with arousal as his tone lowered in demand. 

With a nervous sigh you tilted your head back. Fingers finding their way back down to your core. For a brief moment you wondered if he could hear the slick noises it made, then you heard him hum happily and your suspicions were confirmed. You bit your lip hard as you slid two fingers inside your cunt easily. Too embarrassed to moan as openly as you had been moments ago.

“You know I wanna hear you, sugar.” He grunted. You let out a weak whimper that he cut off with another groan. He was definitely jerking off as well. The image of that alone made you weak. Those large, tattooed hands gripping his cock. Leant back in his beast of a truck. Perhaps a cigarette between his lips. His hat pulled low so only his salt and pepper stubble was visible. Your mind ran wild and you didn’t notice yourself start to get louder once again until he interrupted your thoughts with a devastatingly hot,

“Good girl.” 

Holy shit. You couldn’t remember a time where you had needed dick as badly as this. You pressed your thumb to your clit once again as your fingers curled inside you. Whining needily into the mic. Barely registering the pleased grumble you got in return.

“Fuck me…” You gasped out. Pleading for him without realising you had even opened your mouth. “Please.” 

He laughed. It was so deep and so damn condescending the humiliation nearly pushed you over the edge. Just barely able to keep your cool.

“Darlin’. I’m not even there.” 

You couldn’t stop the frustrated groan as it crawled up your throat. Turning your head towards the radio as you heard something slick from the other end. Drawn back to that image of him getting off to your moans. Your hips rocked upwards. Chasing the pleasure as it twisted your stomach. Loving that he was enjoying this just as much as you were. 

“Please…” You begged once again. You heard his breath hitch, then a loud rumble. He must have just started his truck. Your heart skipped a beat and you gasped excitedly. Eyes rolling back into your head as you felt your orgasm start to crest.

“Don’t you dare cum till I get there. You gotta wait for my cock, ok baby?”

You froze. Holding your breath as you fought off the pleasure. It was torture to pull your hands away but at this point you would do anything he said. You nodded. And it took you way too long to remember that he couldn’t see you. Yet.

“Yes.” You knew you already sounded like a mess. Breathless and needy. You quickly tacked on the end, in hopes of gaining his favour. “Sir…”

His low chuckle made you squeeze your thighs shut. So fucking desperate.

“Now, where you at, sugar?”

[luvrcami]

˗ˏˋPRETTY GIRL´ˎ˗

︰୨୧・꒱ ──── IN WHICH: two teenagers get paired up at an unusual pizzeria and they grow a connection.

‹𝟹 % CW: no smut (sorry), making out

˚ · . michael afton x fem!reader

Y/n sighed as she rubbed her eyes in exhaustion, walking into the pizza place with the pathetic name ‘circus baby’s pizza world’. She rolled her eyes, remembering why she’s even here. 

Y/n was walking past the midnight streets, gripping the backpack behind her as she took notice of a paper screwed onto a wooden pole. ‘looking for employees at baby’s pizza world! call 17563183 for more info!’ The girl read out loud. 

She thought about it for a second, i mean what could happen? It’s not like it’s haunted or anything, right? And plus, she needed the money and needed to do something fun for once. Even though this was probably more boring than staying at home.

She hummed while stepping into the security room, not expecting a- fairly handsome teenage boy sitting there with his legs apart. Her e/c eyes widened at the attractive dark haired boy.

Trying to distract herself she looked around the room. Hm, looks like this room is old and musty. “Uh hey?” She said awkwardly, startling the blue eyed causing him to jump.

His eyes met yours while he examined your body frame up and down, the sides of his lips curving into a smirk. She stared at him with a hand placed on her hip sassily. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer” She told him, taking a seat on the black chair.

The unknown teen rolled his eyes at the random pretty girl. “Haha, very funny. What are you doing here?” He asked the weirdly suspicious girl besides him. She grabbed one of the pens on the desk and shrugged.

“I saw a sign on the street and so i got hired to work here” She explained, fiddling with the pen that had a weird pink fox on the top of it. He hummed at her response, nodding.

“Well, what’s your name weirdo?” The h/c girl asked with a teasing smile. God, her voice was so addicting, almost like a drug. “Uhm it’s Michael. You can call me Mike though” He replied to the stranger that had some effect on him, making him feel nervous.

“Cute. I’m Y/n, but you can call me N/n” You said back, almost as if you were mocking his sentence. Michael smiled at the pretty girl. Y/n, huh? Such a lovely name. It suited the heavenly girl.

“Sooo, do we just like watch these cameras all day? I thought i was going to be serving pizza to little children” Y/n questioned, boredom dripping in her tone of voice. Michael chuckled at your remark and answered your question.

“Pretty much, i guess. These animatronics are weird, okay? Gotta look out for them” The pale boy simultaneously said. Y/n raised an eyebrow at his words. “Animatronics?” She asked. Nobody told her there were animatronics!

“Uh yeah, you didn’t know? Who accepted you into this job?” He asked, slightly confused. “This weird ass man, he looked like a psycho” She joked around but it was true, he was a psychopath. 

Michael hummed at her answer as if he knew she would reply with that answer and then hours passed, feeling like years. The two teens got to know each other and they became friends or maybe a little bit more.

Michaels hand was now placed on Y/n’s thigh. She didn’t mind though. How could she mind? He was so attractive. Their laughters filling the empty air of the pizzeria. 

“Did that actually happen?” Michael laughed at the girl. “Uh yes! Why would i lie! And what about you, Mike? You got family?” She asked but immediately regretted asking when his face changed.

“I-I dont really like talking about my family” He admitted, his accent low. “That’s okay. Sorry for asking” You said as you looked down at the grey floor. “You’re funny, y’know. Funny and cute” He complimented.

Her face warmed up, he chuckled at her rose red face and noticed his hand on her thigh. He went to move it, fearing it made her uncomfortable but got stopped by her hand.

She slowly put it back on her. “I don’t mind” Said the e/c girl. He looked up to meet her glance and let out a shaky sigh as he stared at her pink tinted lips. They admired each others presence at the moment, taking in the others beauty.

But then he leaned in, gently pressing his lips against hers. She hummed in content at the feeling. The sound made Michael grab the side of her thigh, pulling her into a deeper kiss. She tangled her hands in his dark locks causing him to whimper a bit.

Although they didn’t want to, they pulled away for air. A string of saliva connected from their mouths. They stared at their faces and bursted out into laughter. 

“Gosh, that was the best make out section i’ve ever had”

[violettelueur]

— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE EIGHT || BOREDOM

↳ featuring : fushiguro megumi + kugisaki nobara + gojo satoru + zenin maki + inumaki toge + panda + aoi todo + zenin mai + miwa kasumi + gakuganji yoshinobu (mentions of itadori yuji + ieiri shoko) from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of violence + EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 02 march

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 5.8k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : assault 

↳ next episode : small fry and reverse retribution

↳ barista’s notes : hi there everyone! right now i know i haven’t been the most active i have been but i really thankful on how patient you all are ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆ my procrastination has reach a new all time high since my birthday is on saturday and i am dreading becoming 18 because that means i will be a legal adult and i also have exams soon...ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ moving on from that, i hope you all enjoys today’s episode!

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only.

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’ - but none is mentioned in this chapter.

2.5 for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique

no cursed spells used this episode... 

but the little flick that Y/N does is inspired from this video here

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing.

“You really need to stop with your assaults Gojo,” Fushiguro stated, as he pressed his index and middle finger on the middle of his forehead, as he remembered the pain that came along with your flick as well as complaining about the side head slap he had gained from you.

“Nah, you just got to stop asking stupid questions Fushiguro,” you commented back before asking Kugisaki want she was planning to get.

‘So make sure you’re not alone in this world like I am Y/N, I want you to be happy even when we’re both stuck with this burden!’

‘I’m trying mother,’ you thought, as you tightly gripped your phone that was still in your pocket.

                                              ꕥ

“I never really thought you were the type that would go to the beach,” you commented, as you leisurely walked towards the calm ocean with a pair of arms wrapped around yours (that was holding your shoes) since your mother wanted to walk side by side with you to enjoy this tranquil moment together.

“I never thought that about myself either, but it’s better to be surprised then going back to the city again, is it not?” your mother asked with a let out a gentle laugh before instantly halting the moment you both felt the warm water covering your bare feet.

“I guess so,” you stated before using your other arm to partly cover your face due to the sunlight brightly blinding your eyes. However, it seemed like where your mother was standing wasn’t causing her too much irritation - maybe it wasn't as bright from where she was.

Currently, it was sunset at Tatadohama beach - to which surprised you that there weren’t as many people as you thought - where your mother had taken you since she thought you both deserved a bit of a break before you could go back to school since it was the summer break and to be honest, you needed it since you and your mother just came back from a job of exorcising a grade-one curse while trying to escape the scene before any other jujutsu sorcerers came.

“You look beautiful though, your mother has good taste doesn’t she?” your mother teasingly asked in a rhetorical manner, as she took her time to observe you rather than the sunset that was in front of her. Right now, you were some simple jean shorts that were somewhat quite large letting the gentle breeze cool you down leading you to fasten a black belt with a silver buckle which tucked in a simple short-sleeved oversized white button-up shirt that was loose, so you wouldn’t feel tight around your upper body as well as dressing for the warm weather that was approaching.

“It is quite plain, but it’s simple and cute,” you commented, as you peered down at your mother’s clothing choices before looking back up to view the beautiful setting in front of you, as your mother smiled gently before placing her head on your shoulder.

“Promise me that you’ll be okay,” your mother suddenly uttered quietly, leading you to give off a confused look before turning your head down slightly only to discover a small smile on her face with softened eyes as if she was relishing the moment with you.

“You’re acting like you're going to die tomorrow,” you comedically commented, leading your mother to laugh at your statement which caused you to giggle slightly since your mother’s laugh was always contagious when you were with her. Taking a deep breath in to calm down, your mother slowly calmed down before lifting her head up as she sighed.

“Well, anything can happen and I want your word that you will do anything to be safe,” your mother expanded on her previous statement, causing you to turn to her to look at her in the eye, trying to see and understand what your mother really wanted you to know before you nodded at her with a small smile.

“I promise mother” 

                                               ꕥ

“Oi Y/N, wake up”

Slowly opening your eyes, you slowly blinks a few times as you try to get a clearer view from what you were looking at before steadily realising that you were at the track field where you were training with the rest of the students.

Shifting your eyes to look up slightly, only to discover all the upperclassmen looking down at you with the tree leaves covering you from the sunlight that was beaming down right now.

‘Oh...that’s right, I’m at Jujutsu Tech’

“Sorry for making you fight with all of us, I bet you were exhausted, but we need you to check up on Megumi and Nobara since they went to do some errands,” Panda expressed with hands pressed together as a sign of forgiveness.

“Kelp,” Inumaki commented as if affirming Panda’s statement leading you to sit up slowly before stretching your arms to get read of the stiffness that was consuming them before taking in Zenin’s outstretched arm to help you up - something you both been doing for quite some time during the week - before picking up the black track top of brought out for today’s training that you were laying on top of.

“Sorry for sleeping, where are they?” you asked, as you covered your mouth to yawn since you didn’t want to seem rude to your second-year seniors.

“They should be getting a few drinks for themselves and us from the vending machines, they didn’t want to wake you up, but we knew they probably need some help remembering what we want,” Zenin answered, as she used her thumb to point behind her the direction you needed to take.

“Sorry, I’ll get going then,” you commented before tying the track top around your waist before picking up your black katana since you didn’t want to leave it alone before waving at them when you were beginning to head off.

“I’ll see you guys later,” you mentioned before Inuamki shouted ‘Salmon’ back at you before you swiftly made your way up the stone steps to find both your classmates Fushiguro and Kugisaki to get the drinks that the other wanted since you knew that they’ll probably both forget or take too long for your senior’s liking.

“I’m surprised she can still run after all those practice matches,” Panda stated, as he continued to stare at the direction that you headed out in.

“She’s strong, there is no surprise Gojo has taken her into his family and out of training to take some missions,” Zenin commented before continuing with, “she comes back really quickly to resume training with us,”.

“Mustard leaf,” Inumaki mentioned, as he nodded at his classmate’s remark about you before all of the second years went off for their walk, as they gave you time to run your errands before coming back to the field to train for the Kyoto Sister-School Goodwill Event.

                                               ꕥ

Looking at her drinks in front of her, Kugisaki was disappointed at the lack of variety that the machines had as she groaned in annoyance before pressing her choice of the cold drink she wanted before checking to make sure there was orange juice in the vending machine since she knew you would want some when she got back to you.

“Couldn’t they put in a few more vending machines?” Kugisaki asked in an irritated tone, as she bent down to collect her drink from the takeout port before turning around to look at her classmate, who was standing behind her.

“They can’t. There are only so many workers who can come in here,” Fushiguro answered, as he turned to look at her only for the female to turn back around to place more money into the coin slot. “What else are you buying?” Fushiguro asked since he knew that Kugisaki as well as himself didn’t know what the upperclassmen wanted - that was usually your job.

“Gojo really likes orange juice, so I wanted to buy her some since she did train with all of us, I bet she’s still sleeping,” Kugisaki commented before contemplating if you wanted to bottle or carton version of the citrus juice since she didn’t know if you always bought the carton one on purpose.

However, before she could come to the conclusion on what you probably wanted, she noticed from the corner of her eye that there were two people standing at the other side of the outdoor hallway they were at. From what she can observe, it seemed like those two people were from Jujutsu Tech due to their uniforms as the male had what seemed to be an angry expression while the other student - who looked similar to Zenin Maki - had a sly smile on her face.

“What are you doing here, Zenin-senpai?” Fushiguro asked in confusion since he wasn’t expecting anyone from Kyoto Metropolitan Curse Technical College to come to their side.

“Oh, she’s one, too?” Kugisaki queried while turning her head to look at Fushiguro before continuing with, “They do seem similar, are they sisters?” as she turned back to look at the female student to get a closer look at her.

“They’re twins,” Fushiguro answered quickly.

“Don’t call me that, Fushiguro-kun. You make me sound the same as Maki, call me Mai,” Mai stated, as she gave the two Tokyo students a wink.

“So there are the pinch hitters for Okkotsu and the third-years?” the male student stated with a hostile tone while glaring at them with a look of pure disappointment.

“We came here with the principal because we were worried about you. Your classmate died, right? Was that rough? Or did you think nothing of it?” Mai asked with the smirk still painted on her face, leading Fushiguro and Kugisaki to tense at her sudden but somewhat offensive questions.

“What are you trying to say?” Fushiguro asked tensely, as he suddenly felt a slight bit of annoyance building up in his stomach.

“It’s okay, some things are hard to say out loud, so I’ll say it for you,” Mai amusingly stated before proceeding, “‘Vessel’ makes it sound nice, but it means he was a half-curse monster. Having such a tainted, inhuman being beside you brazenly calling himself a jujutsu sorcerer must have been revolting right? Aren’t you feeling better now that he’s dead?”. However, her questions only lead to extremely vexed expressions appearing on both of the Tyoko student’s faces.

“Mai, don’t bring up such pointless topics, I’m only here to see if these guys are fit to take Okkotsu’s place, that’s all I want to know,” the large male declared as he took a few steps forwards before throwing his school jacket to the side, leading to the shikigami sorcerer to tense up once again as he began to worry what was about to happen.

“Fushiguro, was it?” the large male asked before shouting in a proud manner…

“What kind of woman is your type?”

Suddenly perplexed, Fushiguro as well as Kugisaki, shifted their heads to the side simultaneously to convey their unexpected confusion to the two Tokyo students especially to the male that had just asked the weird as well as absurd question.

“Depending on your answer, I’ll beat you half to death right here and drag Okkotsu, or at least the third-years, out to the exchange event,” the large Kyoto student threatened as he processed to unexpectedly and violently ripped his purple shirt into shreds, showcasing his large muscular upper body before positioning himself in his usual fighting stance as he then suddenly announced, “by the way, my type is a tall woman with a big ass!”.

“Why do I have to talk about my taste in women with a guy I just met?” Fushiguro annoyingly asked as he began to express an irritated expression on his face at the Kyoto student that suddenly declared a fight out of nowhere.

“He’s right. That’s a tall hurdle for an antisocial guy,” Kugisaki unintentionally comedically commented, as she pointed at her stoic classmate, leading Fushiguro to express a more vexed expression.

“You be quiet. This is confusing enough already. You’ll just make it more complicated,” Fushiguro mentioned as an irked mark became more visible on his right cheek, displaying his displeasure on what was happening right now.

“Kyoto, third-year, Todo Aoi,” the Kyoto Tech sorcerer introduced himself. “Introduction over,” Todo announced as he then continued by saying, “now we’re friends. Hurry up and answer, if you prefer men, that’s fine too,”.

“A person’s fetishes reflect everything about them,” Todo explained, indicating the reason why he was asking his laughable question in the first place. “People with boring taste in women are boring people themselves,” Todo passionately proclaimed, as if he was presenting a speech to the whole of Japan at this moment in time before he exclaimed, “I hate boring men.”

“And I hate drags like you”

Turning his head slightly to view what was going on behind him, Todo managed to get a glimpse of a person that was right behind his school mate. A female standing with her hands in her pockets with what seemed to be a katana hanging horizontally unlike Okkotsu, who had his vertically, with a nonchalant expression painted on her face.

“Also your drag ass friend, she has quite a big mouth for a Grade three sorcerer from what I can sense, is this what I’m really fighting against Fushiguro?” you asked before you started to walk past the other sorcerer as you made your way to the vending machine to grab the drinks that the second-years usually requested when they made you run errands during a break from training.

“Gojo! You’re awake?” Kugisaki asked as she smiled at you before quickly mentioning there was money already in the machine since she was planning to get you your drink.

“You heard everything?” Fushiguro questioned as he turned his view to you, only to discover you pressing on the button that correlated to the carton of orange juice as you mentioned to Kugisaki that you were going to pay her back before turning your head to look at your other classmate.

“Yeah, I heard everything. You guys are loud and to be honest, both of them need to shut up, they’re such drags,” you muttered disrespectfully since you could tell they were at least a year or two years above you in the academic year.

However, it seemed like your insult didn’t stop Todo from explaining his passion for people’s preferences in a partner as he continued to declare his speech with pride, much to your complete dismay.

“As I was saying, the exchange event is where my soul can be free as blood boils and flesh clashes, who knows what I might do if my last exchange event ends up boring me?” Todo rhetorically questioned as he maintained his fighting stance as if he was ready to pounce within a  second with a confident smile on his face.

‘Shut up...I have to meet with Gojo-sensei later and I don’t want a massive headache to come in before it becomes worse when I see him’

“Hey, aren’t the Jujutsu Tech schools four-year schools?” Kugisaki asked in an unsure manner as she turned to look at Fushiguro since she was trying to take note from you on what drinks to buy in case you weren’t able to for the seniors. However, she was confused about why Todo mentioned that this was going to be his last exchange event when he was a thrid-year.

“Only third-years and under can join the exchange event,” Fushiguro quickly answered Kugisaki’s question as she then let out an understandable ‘Hmm’ to inform her classmate that she acknowledged what he had just told her before swiftly turning back to notice that you had brought a cold water bottle for what seemed to be for Zenin (Maki) since you and her were looking at your phone to see a note displayed on the screen.

“As a show of kindness, I’ll let you off only half-dead right now,” Todo threatened again before repeating the weird question that instinctively started this whole situation, “answer me, Fushiguro. What kind of woman is your type?”

“Is this some kind of comedy routine?” the shikigami user angrily asked, as he increasingly got annoyed at what was happening right now and was confused on why he was picked in the first place.

“Don’t get into a fight, I seriously can’t be bothered to use any reverse cursed technique to heal your wounds if you do and we need to get back to training soon,” you stated before pressing on the last button for the last drink that was needed to be given for Inumaki when you get back.

However, it seemed as if both of your classmates didn’t listen to you since Kugisaki was now observing the other student behind Todo due to her uniform. “Is that your summer uniform?” Kugisaki asked in a light tone, as she admired the outfit before continuing with “ticks me off, but it’s nice”.

“Are you both even listening?” you muttered in annoyance before grabbing the small bag - that you kept from the time you went to your mother’s grave - in the pocket of your nylon cargo pants to place the drinks after you had got them from the dispenser since you didn't want to struggle to carry them.

Looking to his side, Fushiguro looked at his classmate as he began to analyse the situation that was currently going on. From what he could gather, Kugisaki was unarmed and didn’t have her usual hammer with her like she normally did meaning he was wanting to avoid any confrontation that could happen at this moment in time, while you were armed with your usual katana, yet he didn’t want to risk you revealing your true identity to the Kyoto students - not like he really had to worry about that.

‘Not forgiving people isn’t a bad thing. That’s just part of your kindness, isn��t it?’

That’s what his sister said to him once.

“I don’t have a particular preference, as long as she has unshakeable character, I won’t ask for more,” Fushiguro answered, to which you were surprised since you predicted that he wasn’t the type to reveal that sort of information. On the other hand, it seemed like Mai was pleased with the answer as she smiled sweetly at the boy causing you to shudder.

‘Ain’t...they like….family…?’

“Not a bad answer, if you had said something like ‘big boobs,’ I’d have killed you,” Kugisaki mentioned with a please expression on her face since she was relieved at the fact Fushiguro wasn’t suggestive like the Kyoto student in front of you three right now.

“Shut up,” Fushiguro muttered in an irritated tone.

However, it seemed like not everyone was pleased with his answer, as a tear was shed on a cheek.

“I knew it...You’re boring, Fushiguro,” Todo stated in a depressed manner before swiftly pushing himself to swing Fushiguro violently outside the hallway you were standing.

“DIDN’T I SAY NOT TO GET INTO FIGHTS, YOU DRAG?!” you screamed, as you turned your head to the direction where Fushiguro was struck away.

“FUSHIGURO!” Kugisaki panicked as she began to rush to his aid before a pair of arms was wrapped around her to halt her movement.

“Poor Fushiguro-kun, even a talented second-grade jujutsu sorcerer is nothing more than a first-year against the top-grade Todo-senpai, I’ll have to comfort him later,” Mai expressed with a sickly-sweet tone. However, you already had something to say.

“That may be true, but your Todo-senpai is nothing against a special-grade,” you mentioned with a smirk on your face, causing the female sorcerer to look towards you with widened eyes before suddenly remembering what Kugisaki called you by.

“Gojo…” Mai stuttered.

“Gojo, I’m okay! Just make sure Fushiguro is,” Kugisaki said to you with a proud smile on her face, causing you to drop the bag that you had in hand before quickly untying the red charm that was at the end of your katana.

‘I don’t need to unsheathe my katana, but I can’t use any of my curse spells to restrain him, so the chain will have to do’

“Hold this for me!” you shouted as you swiftly tossed the charm in her direction to which she caught easily since her arms still had movement before you rushed towards the scene where Fushiguro and Todo was.

‘This is such a drag right now…’ you thought, as you made it outside to find Fushiguro kneeling on the ground with a few new scratches on his face as well as his now stained blue track. However, it seemed as if Todo wasn’t done with his first attack since he was talking towards the Tokyo student like he was his prey.

On the other hand, you didn’t seem to care as you looked at him with an annoyed expression - even though you knew it wasn’t his fault. “Didn’t I say not to get into any fights? I can’t be bothered to use any reversed cursed techniques right now and I don’t want to bother Shoko-san since I need to train with her to know how to use it properly!” you raged, yet once again, it seemed like both of the male sorcerer’s weren’t listening to you.

“I knew at first glance that you were a boring guy, but you shouldn’t judge a person by their looks, right?” Todo questioned rhetorically again, causing the flames of rage to increase inside your soul since this situation was getting a little too similar to the one back at the detention centre.

“So I went out of my way to ask you, but you just trampled on my kindness,” Todo whined with a pout on his face while wiping the dripping tears that continued to fall.

“Is your brain as pineapple as your head?” Fushiguro insulted, as he gave the senior a weirded-out look.

“You’re the one to talk, hedgehog!” you screamed in annoyance since you were getting frustrated at the fact that no one was listening to you.

“I heard you don’t use cursed techniques.” Fushiguro randomly mentioned as he got up on his feet causing you to look at him with a death glare as well as suddenly being curious about what he meant by ‘don’t use cursed techniques’.

“Huh? Oh, that’s rumour’s false, I used them against the special-grade,” Todo plainly stated like it was an everyday face before raising his arm to wave his hand side to side as if to ‘slap’ away the rumours that were going on about him before continuing with, “but I heard rumours going around about a girl that went toe-to-toe with Sukuna, she was fighting with you right? Where is she?”

‘MAYBE THE GIRL THAT IS BEHIND YOU, SHOUTING AT YOU DRAGS!’

“That’s a relief to hear!” Fushiguro declared as if he was confident, causing you to look at him enraged with fury.

“THAT IS NOT A RELIEF TO HEAR, YOU DRAG!” you screamed, as you were now handing on an extremely thin piece of thread that was going to snap any second, leading you to attack both of them if this got out of hand.

However, once again, Fushiguro and Todo didn’t listen to you for one second as the shikigami sorcerer began to signal his shikigami to appear with the familiar hand-sign of ‘Nue’ back with you fought with him against Sukuna and ‘Gama’ from when you were training with him - yet, you were completely perplexed on what he had combined when both together.

Suddenly, a familiar shadow began to swiftly emerge from the ground before it suddenly took form into something you didn’t really expect from the Ten-Shadow Technique sorcerer.

“Frogs with wings?” you muttered, as you stared at the sight in complete surprise since you didn’t expect to see a few frogs with wings appearing in front of you - you never thought you see something like this in your life, to be honest.

“Bottomless Well!” Fushiguro chanted before a few of the frogs croaked in response causing you to stare that the creature in a now unreadable expression.

‘They will be weaker than their counterpart shikigami but they do have many benefits....didn’t Gojo-sensei mention something about the Kamo’s family?’

On the other hand, it seemed like your future opponent in the exchange event didn’t seem so nervous about the technique. Of course, from what you remembered from training as well as some knowledge that you had gained just from seeing one movement from Todo, you had come to the conclusion that he was a close-range fighter, probably had some experience with weapons since it would be foolish if a fighter didn’t have any sense it was a risk of them just having knowledge with their hands.

However, before you could even continue to gain more knowledge just by looking at the back of the well muscular sorcerer, there was a quick shift in the air causing you to snap out of your trance only to find Todo behind suddenly behind Fushiguro as he processed to wrap his arms around your classmate’s waist.

“Flimsy and shallow...Both your body and your taste in women!” Todo shouted before lifting Fushiguro upwards like he weighed nothing before aggressively smashing his headfirst into the ground behind him, causing you to discover how flexible the Kyoto student was before he suddenly jumped up into the air to give his opponent a punch, only for Fushiguro to dodge just in time, yet that didn’t seem to last since the second he moved away to gain some distance, he was violently smacked with a fist.

“Fushiguro!” you shouted, before quickly forcing the soles of your sheet to push your body forward to an extreme length, just in time to get in between both of the male sorcerers that were fully ignoring you since the moment you entered into the conversation to grab the drinks.

“Gojo!” Fushiguro yelled out in a panic since he was extremely worried that you were now taking a hit for him.

However, it seemed like Todo was now suddenly the one that was worried since his incoming punch seemed to hit something really small since it didn’t cover all his knuckles, yet it didn’t break like he thought it would, causing him to let the debris slowly clear away as his eyes began to notice the sight of a sleek black wooden scabbard standing vertically from the ground halting his extremely large fist, while you were kneeling down behind it, holding the handle with an extremely displeased look on your face with Fushiguro behind you as your other hand had a grip on the collar of his blue track jacket.

“You know Fushiguro, you are full of surprises but a complete drag when it comes to not listening to me,” you muttered, before slowly letting go of his collar as your turned your now free hand to face Kyoto Student in front of you, who was looking down at you with a shocked expression on his face.

“Todo Aoi right? You see, Gojo-sensei asked me to meet up with him and I don’t want a headache since I know he’s gonna give me one later, so I’ll see you later okay?” you sinisterly stated, before opening your palm to him as you slowly bend your middle finger towards you while placing your thumb on top of it, right on the nail.

“That looks like a nice construction sight,” you nonchalantly mentioned as you looked up at the wooden structure behind you before speedily flicking out your middle finger, causing Todo’s body to suddenly be pushed back with an extremely large force of cursed energy leading to the wooden panels to instantly break once his body made contact before you assumed his body landed on the wooden flooring that was above since you couldn’t see him anymore.

“Gojo…” Fushiguro muttered in shock as he didn’t expect something like that to happen before he noticed the same hand that flicked his opponent away was coming towards him with the same gesture. 

Flicking his forehead gently, you turned to look at him with a straight face before you used the same palm to let your cursed energy become slowly positive with some concentration to heal his wound that was on his head.

“It’s not much since I haven’t perfected it yet, but it will deal with the blood loss before you go to Shoko-san, you drag” you commented before sighing.

‘There was no need for me to remove the charm after all, but that’s enough for me to gain information for the event’

“Megumi! Y/N!” someone shouted, causing you both to look up only to find your second-year seniors Inumaki and Panda looking down below you to where you remembered flicking Todo towards, leading you to assume that they went to where there was the most ruckus was happening. However, next to Panda was Todo, who smirked down at the sight of both of you below.

“Fushiguro, let’s train our hardest okay?” you muttered, so only your classmate could hear, leading him to look at your with confused eyes before you turned to him with a smile, “you’re really strong, but I know you and Kugisaki can get stronger, so just follow me when I need you to okay?” you asked, before standing up on your feet once you managed to stop the blood loss from Fushiguro’s head.

“Panda-senpai! Inumaki-senpai! Can you take Fushiguro to Shoko-san, Gojo-sensei said he needs me for a discussion, I assume Maki-san is with Kugisaki!” you yell out.

“Salmon!” Inuamki shouted back before all of the three sorcerers were out of your sights, causing you to turn back to Fushiguro before giving your hand to him to help himself up.

‘Grade-one Todo Aoi and grade-three Zenin Mai ha?’

                                          ꕥ

“Ah Y/N, my daughter there you are!” Gojo cheered in delight once he saw you on the other side of the sliding door before you decided to step in since it was left open, to who you assumed was your adoptive dad that opened it earlier for his own reason.

“Excuse me,” you muttered before taking a quick glance around the room before noticing that there were only two more people with you and Gojo right now. From a side glance, you noticed a girl, probably the same age as you or maybe a year older at the latest, with long blue hair with a slightly slanted fridge wearing a suit that seemed to suit her really well even if her youthful and adorable face. 

‘A semi grade two? No..maybe three like Mai…’

However, as your eyes shifted to the sight on the opposite side where Gojo was seated, there was an old man seated while holding onto a wooden cane, who seemed to be somewhere in his late 80s but you wouldn’t tell since he seemed too hollow for you liking, yet something about him gave you an off-putting feeling.

“I wanted to tell you about the two special-grade curses that attacked me the other day,” Gojo happily mentioned with a smile on his face, causing you to look at him with a confused expression since he seemed too happy for someone that got attacked.

“Why do you look so happy? That should be the opposite reaction Gojo-sensei,” you remarked, as you made your way towards him only for his response to be a little pout.

“How many times do I have to tell you? You can call me your dad,” Gojo childishly whined.

“Never,” you shut down his offer as quickly as you could before uttering him to tell you about the special curses he wanted to inform you about, only for him to suddenly pull out a piece of paper with two childish drawings on them, causing you to look at the art in a fed-up manner before snatching it off his hand to get a closer look at the curses that he masterfully drew.

“As I said before, the two cursed spirits were capable of communication and they probably have allies who are just as strong,” Gojo declared in a serious manner, causing you to shiver at the 180-degree personality turn that he had done right in front of you. 

“It’s not just our enemies, either. Hakari, Okkotsu, your Todo and now my daughter Gojo. The level of our students has risen drastically in recent years, as well,” Gojo stated as he stared at the old man before he processed with, “then there was last year’s incident with Geto Suguru and now, the appearance of Sukuna’s vessel,”.

“What are you trying to say?” the old man asked, as he looked at your adoptive father with an expressionless look on his face (not that you could ever tell if there was any expression in the first place).

“Hehe, you don’t know? The wave of power you guys have been trying to hold back with your pointless status and traditions has grown bigger than you can handle and is now descending upon us. You won’t be able to measure the coming age with the classification of ‘special grade’ if you think I’m the only one who’ll be fighting back, you’re going to get hurt, old man,” Gojo declared with a smirk on his face as he felt the presence of the realisation that was coming to you now.

‘That man...was the reason why…..Itadori….’

“I think you are getting a bit out of line,” the old man lightly threatened in a lower tone as he glared at the sorcerer in front of him.

“I think it’s you that’s getting out of line,” you muttered in vexation as you glared down hostility at the man sitting on the opposite side of the table as the paper that you were holding began to crumble in your grasp. “If you get to kill someone by using me as a tool, let me return the favour next time with your head,” you threatened in a spiteful manner causing the old man to look at you with the same hollow eyes as he did with Gojo.

“Oh! Scary! Well, that's all I wanted to say, I’ll be going now with my daughter,” Gojo mentioned, as he got up from his seat before placing his hands on each of your upper arms to push you towards the direction of the door, before guiding himself through that gap that was left open.

“Oh, Principal Yaga will be coming in about two hours. Later!” Gojo departed cheekily, before closing the door as he then guided you away from the room the higher-up was in since he knew you were in a state of shock at the discovery you had made about your deceased classmate: Itadori Yuji.

‘Those higher-ups are so useless, all they do is command other sorcerers to do their dirty work while acting if they are superior dear. If I could, I would kill all of them’

‘Mother….’

© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

De Amore

My fic for @aceomenszine is finally available on AO3!

Aziraphale has come to Paris to find the answer to an important question: What's it like to be in love? Crowley's not sure why he wants to know, but he's willing to discuss it to make his angel happy. Full text below!

--

“What’s it like to be in love?”

Crowley stumbled to a stop on the Paris street, glaring at the angel beside him. Aziraphale stared straight ahead, walking with his usual expression: calm, poised, slightly arrogant. As if he were talking about the weather.

“Dunno. S’a human thing, isn’t it?” He scowled at a few gawking peasants, hurrying to catch up. “Romance. Lust. Sex. Nothing to do with us.”

“You could say the same of hunger, or exhaustion, or boredom.”

“Yeah, and I’d be right.” Crowley held out an arm to stop Aziraphale from walking directly into a produce cart. “Neither of us gets exhausted. You’re never tired, and I just like a good nap sometimes.”

“Really?” A flicker of that mocking bastard smirk. “How many nights did you sleep this past week?”

“Nrrg. Five or six, but that’s not the point.” They started walking again, Crowley tossing an apple he’d snuck from the cart. “I could stop if I wanted to — I’d miss it, but s’not the same as being tired. Same with you and eating.”

“But if I desire a food, so strongly I can already taste it, surely that’s…if not exactly hunger, a close approximation?”

“Don’t think so.” Crowley offered the apple, but Aziraphale shook his head. “Spend a couple days in the city, you’ll see what hunger looks like. S’not about pleasure or wanting a particular food. It’s need, desperation. And we just don’t experience that.” He tossed the apple towards a group of children, and a girl in a ragged dress caught it. “Boredom I’ll grant you. I’ve definitely been bored.”

“So, we might enjoy things as humans do, but never desire them the same way,” Aziraphale mused, smoothing his hands down the front of his stolen jacket. “But is love the longing for a connection with another, or the pleasure of that connection?”

“Doesn’t really make a difference to us, does it?”

He waited for Aziraphale to respond, but the angel simply continued walking, hands folded behind his back, eyes more distant than usual.

“So?” Crowley prodded after nearly a block in silence. “What brought this on?” Aziraphale shrugged. “Let me guess. Reading novels again? Sappy poetry? Getting…ideas?” He stepped ahead of Aziraphale and walked backwards, to ensure the angel saw his suggestive eyebrow wiggle. No response. Crowley shrugged, falling back into step. “Look, f’you want to try falling in love with a human, s’your business. Let me know how it goes. Just do it back in London, I don’t need that…drama getting back to my bosses.”

“That’s not it,” Aziraphale snapped, wringing his hands. “It’s not — it doesn’t even work that way, Crowley. Humans don’t just decide to fall in love!”

“They don’t cross an ocean and charge through a revolution for a snack, either.”

“Oh, never mind. Clearly you’re the expert here.” Aziraphale froze, glaring at a shop just ahead, and threw his hands up in disgust. “And now they’ve closed my favorite creperie! Why do I even bother? Might as well return to England and feast upon whatever lumpy brown bread the first tavern I pass serves.”

“Stop being dramatic,” Crowley hissed, turning down a side street and gesturing for Aziraphale to follow. “If you get locked up again, I’m not rescuing you a second time.” The angel’s lips twisted sourly. “Look, gourmet crepes aren’t really in demand right now, but I know a place. Might still be open.”

“I suppose that will have to do.”

Crowley rolled his eyes and glared at the sky, thin grey clouds veiling the sun. He should probably just let Aziraphale stew in his own sullen displeasure. Might even give him an advantage — a distracted angel was easier to outsmart.

But Crowley hadn’t been in the business of thwarting Aziraphale for over a thousand years. Why oppose each other, when they could work…not together, but in tandem? Ensuring all their duties were fulfilled, their paperwork properly filed.

It was better this way. Less fuss all around, less inconvenience. Pleasanter conversation. More time for trips to the theater or quiet meals, either of which was a far better way to spend an evening than any sort of elaborate espionage.

He’d been looking forward to griping about his job over a mug of cider while Aziraphale worked his way through a plate of crepes, smiling and wiggling in his seat. Watching Aziraphale get excited over something was, in Crowley’s opinion, one of the best ways to pass the time.

Only the conversation had left Aziraphale annoyed, pouting and…Crowley studied him carefully, dark glasses imperfectly hiding his eyes. More than anything, Aziraphale looked hurt. A sight that always made Crowley’s stomach twist painfully.

He sighed, tossing back his head. “‘Love is an inborn suffering, proceeding from the sight and immoderate thought upon the beauty of another, for which cause above all other things one wishes to embrace the other and, by common assent, in this embrace to fulfil the commandments of love.’”[1]

“I beg your pardon?”

“Look, I don’t know. You asked me—!” Crowley walked faster, face growing hot. “It’s from some old treatise, right? Love, he says, is seeing someone beautiful and wanting sex. Then, when you have your fill…” he waved his hand vaguely.

“I see.” Aziraphale adjusted his sleeves. “I suppose that…makes sense.” But he still looked grim.

Up ahead, not quite along their path, stood one of Paris’s parks, gates now open to the public. Apart from some rubbish cluttering the entrance, it seemed well-maintained. Crowley tipped his head, inviting.

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up and he nodded, the first hint of a smile on his face. It always made Crowley feel light, that smile, however briefly it appeared.

They wandered in silence up the path, lined by trees here, flowerbeds there. Leaves had turned yellow and the grass was edged with brown, but the roses were still in bloom. Crowley paused to pluck a particularly well-formed bud.

As they crossed a bridge over a small watercourse, Aziraphale suddenly said, “Do you think it’s true, though? That — that treatise? Because it rather sounds like he didn’t see any difference between lust and love.”

“Mmh.” Crowley paused, gazing downstream, where a group of ducks swam contentedly. “As a demon? Yeah. Fits the party line. Humans don’t think of anything but their own pleasure, always wanting what they don’t have. Jealous, possessive, until something better comes along. Then it starts all over. If love and lust aren’t the same, well, they’re pretty close, right?”

“I see.” Aziraphale stepped beside him, holding out his red cap, now filled with grains of barley and cracked corn. They each took a handful and tossed it down. The ducks swam over eagerly, bobbing to catch the seeds before they drifted away.

“But as a being who’s been in the world nearly six thousand years?” Crowley threw another handful, then leaned against the railing, crossing his arms. “Not so sure. Humans do too much that can’t be explained by simple pleasure. Besides, I’ve seen what they do when overwhelmed by lust, and what they do when overwhelmed by love and…dunno. S’not the same.”

More handfuls of grains as a second group of ducks approached.

“What d’you think, Angel?” Crowley prodded. “Must be something in all those books you read.”

“Oh, quite a lot,” Aziraphale assured him. “Much of it contradictory. Many poets will only talk about their beloved’s face, or eyes, but if it were simply a matter of beauty, surely everyone would fall in love with the same beauties.”

“Sometimes they do.” Crowley rolled some seeds between his palms. “S’where the jealousy comes in. But yeah. Gotta be more to it than that.”

“I hope you’re not planning to make those poor ducks sink.”

“What? Nk — no. Course not.” He threw the grains down and the ducks quickly swarmed, turning bright shades of pink and blue and violet as they ate.

“Crowley.”

“Oh, it’s not hurting anyone.” He glanced sideways to see Aziraphale pressing his lips together, struggling not to smile. Grinning, Crowley tossed down more enchanted grains. “Go on then.”

“Hmm? Ah, yes. Well, the overall impression is that love is…transformative. Changes the way one thinks and feels at all times. They speak of, oh, the sun shining brighter, foods tasting sweeter, winter blossoming into summer. Metaphors. Others speak of — of attraction, quickened pulse, sudden heat and so on, but that’s a passing thing, part of a — a particular moment of closeness. Surely, no human could maintain such a state for an hour, never mind weeks or years!” Aziraphale offered Crowley the last handful of grain in his cap. “And once that moment passes…”

“Back to the metaphors.” The ducks below were now spotted, striped, every color of the rainbow. One bore pure white wings, beside another with midnight black. Aziraphale chuckled, very softly, which made Crowley feel immensely satisfied. Dusting off his hands, he circled the angel and continued walking.

“Yes,” Aziraphale hurried to catch up, cap twisting in his hands. “I get the sense that the feeling is so obvious, so…universal, they never think to describe it.”

“How inconsiderate.” Crowley thought it over. “So, flash of heat, racing heart, sun gets brighter, then ten pages about the color of their eyes? That about it?”

“I suppose so.” Aziraphale rubbed a finger across his lip. “Not always beauty, though. Some appear drawn by their partner’s clever mind, or acts of kindness. Some praise stories of bravery or great deeds, others fixate on meaningless symbols of wealth. But still, those only tell why one falls in love, not what it feels like.”

“Sounds like a sort of obsession.” Crowley furrowed his brow. “That treatise had a list of…sort of rules of love. Mostly about jealousy, really, don’t think the author thought much of women, but… ‘Every action of a lover ends in the thought of his beloved.’”

“I see…so that, together or apart, one cannot help but think always of the other. That certainly aligns with the evidence.” He started to replace his cap, then paused, looking inside. “Anything else of use?”

“‘Love can deny nothing to love.’” Beside him, Aziraphale turned pink and a brilliant smile broke across his face, like the sun after a storm. He pulled from the cap the bright red rosebud Crowley had hidden within.

Crowley watched as Aziraphale slid the flower into his buttonhole, drinking in the way the delighted shiver ran across his shoulders. Then the angel looked up, hitting Crowley with the full force of his smile.

Stunning. Blinding. It stole Crowley’s breath away, wiped every thought from his mind.

One day, that smile would destroy him, and he wouldn’t mind at all.

“So, this creperie — are we close?”

“Ngh. Smh. Unh. Nearly. Another block or two.” The park’s gate stood just ahead, half shut, the bustling street beyond. Crowley quickly stepped ahead, pulling it open for Aziraphale. “You, ah, find the answer you needed?”

“I…think so, yes.” He rested his fingers on the gate — so close to Crowley’s he could feel their warmth — then quickly pulled away, folding his hands behind his back. “I’ve been trying to work out…well…whether I’m in love with you, Crowley.”

“Oh.” What was he supposed to say to that? “Oh.”

“Indeed.” Aziraphale’s eyes darted nervously and he began to pace. “I-I want you to know, I don’t desire you. I’ve never felt that sort of attraction. And I’m not jealous by any means. I’m not even certain who I’m meant to be jealous of. But…” He turned back, tugging his jacket. “I think of you. Constantly. Every action, every experience reminds me of you. I go to a concert, and I can’t concentrate on the music, only whether you would enjoy it. I hear a joke and I imagine how you would laugh, or roll your eyes, and I can’t know a moment’s peace until I’ve shared it with you. And last month…when I was reprimanded…for days afterward I could think of nothing but how I wished you were there. When I finally found the strength to venture out, it was only from my determination to come here.”

“For…crepes?” Crowley offered stupidly.

“No, you silly creature, for you.” He stepped forward, reaching up as if to straighten Crowley’s lapels, but once again his hands dropped. “I hear your voice and no matter how dark my situation — no matter how absurd you look in the current fashion — I just…feel happy again.”

Aziraphale took a deep breath and lifted his eyes — hopeful, fearful, vulnerable — to meet Crowley’s.

“Oh.” Something more was probably needed. “Yeah.”

That was, apparently, the wrong thing to say.

“Well.” Aziraphale’s eyes dropped and he turned, trying to hide his expression. “Yes. I thought you should know.” He ducked his head and hurried through the gate. “Where — where is this creperie? We should try to arrive—”

“Me too.”

Crowley hadn’t meant to say anything. His mind was still ten minutes behind, struggling to catch up, but the pain on Aziraphale’s face hurt him like a blow to the chest.

The two words stopped Aziraphale in his tracks.

“I…I think about you, too.” Crowley stepped halfway through the gate, gripping the bar so tight it began to bend. “When I wake up, or fall asleep and…and away from you, here, I just…I miss you…but you — you idiot, with your crepes and your — your execution and…and then you smile and I just…” Blast! How could Aziraphale be so eloquent? Crowley swallowed and started over. “Look, m’trying to say…don’t think I can deny you anything. And. If that’s love…yeah. Me too.”

All this time, Aziraphale stood perfectly still, his back to Crowley. But now he turned, blue eyes furiously blinking. “That’s…ah…thank you. I know y-you hate being thanked but…” Aziraphale took one step closer, then another, until only inches separated them. “Thank you.”

“Nh.” He could so easily reach across that last bit of distance. Crowley didn’t know what that would accomplish, what he’d even do, but he wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything. “Now what?”

“I don’t know.” Aziraphale’s gaze fell. “It…doesn’t change anything, does it? You’re still a demon, and I’m—”

“I don’t care,” Crowley hissed, shocked at the fervor in his own voice. “We don’t need to play by their rules. We could — run off, or—”

“We can’t. Crowley, both our sides would — they’d find us, they’d destroy you.”

“I’m willing to risk it.” He reached for Aziraphale’s hand.

“I’m not.” The angel jerked back, putting more distance between them, eyes wide. “Crowley that’s — that’s not a chance I’m willing to take. I’m sorry, but no.”

“Fine,” Crowley growled, pulling away. “What do you want?”

“I want…” Aziraphale shut his eyes, taking a shuddering breath. “I want a shop in London, where I can surround myself with books and foods and everything I enjoy. I want my superiors to trust me, let me bring good into the world my own way, without sending me all over Creation at a moment’s notice and — and punishing me for a few miracles to make my life easier. I want us to go to plays and gardens and balls together, not for clandestine meetings but because we enjoy them. To be openly in each other’s company, without fear of reprisal. And…I’d like you to visit my shop and bring me flowers or sweets. I’d serve my very best wine and…we’d talk all night about…everything and nothing. And laugh together.” His eyes fluttered open and for the first time Aziraphale looked sure of himself. “I want what we already have. Only I want more of it.”

This time he didn’t move as Crowley reached out. Long fingers carefully adjusted the rosebud, standing it straighter in its buttonhole. “Yeah. I…I’d like that, too.”

“And you don’t want anything…physical?”

Crowley snorted. “M’not a human.” But he wondered if Aziraphale’s cheek was as soft as the rosebud’s petals. “I’d like to touch you. Your hand, your face. Your wings. Hear your voice as I fall asleep. Feel your fingers in my hair. Is that…too much?”

“No.” Aziraphale smiled gently. “That sounds perfect.”

“Maybe…” Crowley fidgeted with his glasses, shuffled his feet, but refused to step away. “If we’re careful…”

“The Arrangement is already dangerous enough. You must understand…”

Crowley closed his eyes. “I do. Nothing changes.” Except there were words now, to the feeling he had when he thought of his angel. And that changed everything. When he looked again, Aziraphale nodded, as if he felt the same.

“Right then.” Crowley circled around Aziraphale, sauntering back to the main road. “Let’s see if these crepes are worth risking the guillotine.”

“My dear fellow,” Aziraphale easily kept pace. “One bite of true Breton crepes will silence your doubts forever.”

“Breton, huh?”

“Oh, yes, far superior to any others.”

“If that’s so,” Crowley smirked, remembering Aziraphale in his cell, “s’a wonder you came to Paris. Particularly in such a…controversial outfit.”

“The city has…certain other attractions.”

Something warm and heavy wrapped across Crowley’s shoulders, invisible to his eyes, though he could feel the individual feathers tickle his neck. Aziraphale strolled beside him, hands clasped behind his back, eyes forward, as if nothing were amiss.

Carefully, trying to look natural, Crowley scratched his shoulder, brushing his knuckles down a long flight feather, softer than any mortal bird’s.

Aziraphale smiled ever so slightly and flexed his wing, holding Crowley a little more tightly. An embrace that no one could see, no one could know about, except them.

“Dunno,” Crowley said. “Still seems pretty risky.”

“Yes. But I’m an incorrigible old fool. Sometimes I can’t help myself.”

“Suppose I can understand,” Crowley said as he extended his own wing, wrapping it around Aziraphale’s waist. The angel’s composure broke as he wiggled, burying himself in invisible feathers. Crowley smiled, heat running through him, a warm spring day after a long cold winter. “After all, we’re not so different, you and I.”

[1] De Amore, Andreas Capellanus, c. 1190

So happy to finally share this!

[slightlyrebelliouswriter23]

hey so i'm hoping to get some writing advice about creative burnout? like i seem to write in fits and spurts. some months i can churn out a oneshot or chapter everyday and some months i can do one (1) creative thing only. so i'm wondering how to prevent creative burnout and how to just create more smoothly <3 thank you!

Creative Burnout & How To Ward Against It

First, I’d like to preface this all by saying you’re definitely not alone. You probably already know this, but sometimes it’s nice to be reminded.

I know from personal experience that creative burnout can leave you feeling hopeless, detached from yourself—the kind of identity crisis no one needs in 2020. 

So buckle in, folks. It’s a dosy.

I. The Symptoms

Not to be the local WebMD page here, but signs of burnout can include:

Procrastination (more than usual)

Dreading writing and feeling stuck or overly perfectionistic when you try

Physical tiredness and/or irritability

Feeling like everything is monotonous

It’s more than just writer’s block. It’s a physical and emotional exhaustion response to something that goes deeper than a simple lack of inspiration. In my experience, and from a bit of research, I’ve found that what your brain is really looking for is dopamine.

Dopamine is essentially your brain’s chemical reward system for doing something interesting or exciting to you. As someone who is diagnosed with ADHD, I have chronically low levels of dopamine, so this is a constant struggle for me—but it is absolutely made worse by creative burnout.

II. The Problem

Studies have shown that the more we do A Thing the less that thing will give us dopamine (unless a component of the activity changes regularly). This is because eventually our brains desensitise to the stimuli provided by the activity, and subsequently, we become disengaged.

But it’s not necessarily The Thing (i.e. writing) that becomes boring. Actually, more than a few factors could be at play here, and the first step to finding a solution is to identify the problem.

1. ENVIRONMENT LACKS EXCITEMENT/CHANGE—

Sometimes, the monotony of everyday life can feed creative burnout. This becomes especially applicable in quarantine when you’re not leaving your house.

What we don’t realise is that even something as small as the variables of driving to and from work, or interacting with passing coworkers, gives us dopamine. So if you have the same routine every day that does not involve any added variables, your brain will begin staunching that dopamine supply.

2. EITHER TOO EASY OR TOO CHALLENGING—

In 1975, Hungarian-American psychologist, Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, coined the term “flow”, which refers to a heightened state of creativity and concentration on an activity. Csikszentmihalyi posited that if your skill level is equal to the level of challenge in any given activity, you will experience this state of flow.

The chart below is taken from Csikszentmihalyi’s own study on the subject of flow and motivation. It examines “your skill level” on the x axis in relation to the “challenge level” on the y axis.

Essentially:

Too much challenge + not enough skill = anxiety, worry (which might lead to procrastination and perfectionism)

Too much skill + not enough challenge = boredom, apathy (which might lead to monotony, irritability, and other depression-like symptoms)

Skill level = Challenge level = Flow

3. NOT ENOUGH “ACTIVE” STIMULATION—

When it comes to dopamine seeking, there is a distinct difference between active and passive stimulation in the brain.

Active stimulation is any form of activity that you have to actively engage in. For instance; exercising, doing a crossword puzzle, or reading a book. These kinds of activities not only give you dopamine, they also facilitate critical thinking and problem solving thought processes, which act as catalysts for creativity.

Passive stimulation, on the other hand, comes in the form of television, social media, and YouTube. It’s anything you can consume without having to actively engage. Passive stimulation will indeed give your brain dopamine, however, it won’t activate your creativity.

The problem also lies in the speed at which you receive the dopamine from passive activities. Passive stimulation is so easy to access that the more you consume, the harder it becomes to pick up active stimulation. Your brain expects a hit of dopamine just by picking up a phone or turning on the TV—it becomes addicted to the quick fix of a Netflix binge.

III. The Solutions

Based on the problems mentioned above, I am going to list a few solutions. Keeping in mind that not every solution will work for everyone, these can act as both preventative measures and remedies for someone who is currently burned out.

1. CHANGE UP YOUR ENVIRONMENT/ROUTINE—

Aim to do at least one thing per day that will add “variables” to the monotony. This can be as simple as going on a long walk, dressing up in that bold outfit you always wanted to wear to the office but never did, or sitting at a different workspace in your home.

Anything you can do that’s simple, but might provide an extra variable to your day to spice things up. Note: this shouldn’t be the same thing every day.

2. CHALLENGE YOURSELF MORE—

If you find yourself bored by your work, try challenging yourself more. This could mean setting goals for yourself that go a bit beyond what you’ve been doing. 

For example, if you’ve been writing 500 words per day, see if you can beat your own word count every day for the next week. If you’ve been writing mainly fluff pieces, switch it up and do an angst piece. See if you can write a book in a month, or start a blog where you don’t write fiction at all!

Anything you can do to add a little kick to your workload. Note: Beware of challenging yourself too much! This can lead straight back into burnout.

3. CHALLENGE YOURSELF LESS—

If you’re on the flip side of that coin, and find that you are anxious, procrastinating, and perfectionistic when it comes to writing, fret not. Just because you’re experiencing any of these things, doesn’t mean you’re incapable of doing the job with your skillset.

It just means your perception of the job needs to be shifted.

Procrastination, at its heart, is a fear of failure, which results in actively avoiding the negative emotions associated with the task that causes this fear. Perfectionism is a type of procrastination that is a combination of a fear of failure and a fear of success (or, more accurately, other’s critiques of your success) all at once.

Neither have anything to do with your actual skillset, but they have everything to do with your perception of your skillset. Obviously, this is a harder thing to fix, as it has to do with deeply ingrained levels of self-esteem.

What I can offer you is a tactic to trick your mind into thinking you’re capable.

If you have a task, big or small, and you are feeling overwhelmed by it (like you might go curl up in bed and scroll Tumblr), immediately break that task up into smaller tasks. Keep breaking up the smaller tasks until you have the smallest possible part of the bigger task without doing nothing.

Then do that smallest possible thing.

If your goal is to write a 2000 word one shot, a small part of that task is writing half of it. An even smaller part of that task is breaking the one shot up into “scenes” and writing one scene. For instance:

Jude wakes up to a sore throat, a runny nose, and a fever.

She tries to go to work, but Cardan, being the mother hen that he is, threatens to never make her another grilled cheese sandwich (her favourite food) ever again if she doesn’t stay home.

Jude agrees begrudgingly, and Cardan sits her down in front of the TV with a bottle of Gatorade. He leaves to go get medicine from the store.

When Cardan comes back, Jude is worse than before. He makes her soup and saltine crackers and spoon feeds her.

She complains the whole time and, in her feverish state, threatens to never buy him another bottle of wine (his favourite food) ever again if he doesn’t let her feed herself.

Each bullet point represents one “scene” of about 200-400 words each. Obviously, there will be more details that you work out as you write. But with these five smaller scenes, your goal is no longer writing the 2000 word one shot. Your goal is writing the first of the five scenes.

If you complete the smallest possible task, you can stop, and you’ll still feel like you’ve accomplished something because you can cross off that task from your list. But chances are, by the time you cross off one task, you may have inspiration enough to keep going.

4. ENGAGE IN ACTIVE STIMULATION—

Since active stimulation has been proven to turn on the creative “tap”, try incorporating more of these activities into your daily routine:

Exercise: As the resident couch potato, I hate to say that exercising is good for creativity, but it is. Even if it’s just going on a short walk, so long as you’re moving.

Reading: Sometimes you have plenty of ideas, but no words to fit those ideas. Fill your well of words by carving out an hour or two each day for reading a good book.

The Creative Process: In the writing world, the creative process is a process of about 20-30 minutes that the writer partakes in every day before they start writing. This process should be creative, but also have nothing to do with writing. You can try colouring in a colouring book, painting, organising a page in your bullet journal. Anything that is creative but does not make you think about everything you have to do that day. Think of it as creative meditation.

Listen to music: Having APD, I personally can’t listen to music while I write. However, studies have shown that if you listen to at least ten songs per day, it will significantly benefit your dopamine levels and overall mood. If you’re like me and prefer to work in silence, maybe stick on a couple songs during your creative process. If you can manage music and writing together, get out those headphones!

5. KEEP A REGULAR SCHEDULE—

I know this is the most cliche point in the book, but it’s valid. This doesn’t mean do the same thing at the same time every day over and over, because ultimately we’re looking to avoid monotony. 

But having pillars of structure to bolster the excitement can definitely work to keep you from slipping into burnout. Going to sleep, waking up, and having your meals at relatively the same time every day are good examples of this. 

Feel free to change up the things you do between breakfast and lunch, but make sure you have those pillars of consistency so your brain knows that a break is on the horizon and doesn’t get tired.

6. PACE YOURSELF—

This is particularly difficult for those of us who are coming out of a creative burnout, but I urge you to pay special attention to this one. If we are suddenly hit by inspiration and the writing is flowing and flowing and flowing, eventually we will hit the point of highest dopamine capacity for writing.

Not putting a check on the flood of inspiration coming out of a creative burnout, I’d argue, is actually a guarantee that many of us will experience burnout all over again. It becomes this vicious cycle in which we are trapped.

While it feels great to write non-stop and receive immediate validation for that work, try to limit yourself to how much you’re writing and how immediately you post your writing (if you plan on posting it).

Whenever I finish a one shot or a chapter of something, I like to allow at least one day for editing before I post. This timeframe is important, because it acts as a buffer of rest between writing marathons. 

You can take however long you need for the editing process, but definitely make sure you have a set amount of time in place. Otherwise, your brain might not have enough time to come down from what is essentially a writing high, and you will always need to reach greater heights in order to achieve that same level of dopamine.

~~~~

Overall, the most important things to take away from all of this are: 

Change up your environment

Keep your brain actively stimulated 

Have pillars of structure between which you can run about chaotically to your heart’s content

PACE YOURSELF!

Hope this helped. Happy writing!

-Em 🖤🗡

Writing Tip Masterlist

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Celebrate 2K with me!

[theoswriting]

lavender, honey and coconut (e.p. x fem!r)

summary:  Penelope Garcia can sniff out secrets like a cute security dog can sniff out drugs. y/n had been amused but had brushed off the warning. That had been her first mistake.

pairing: emily prentiss x fem!reader

word count: 4k

a/n: okay, this is my first time writing for cm and emily prentiss, so I hope it isn’t too ooc! this is definitely a different vibe to the show lmao, i mostly wrote this to amuse myself, and then decided it might be worth sharing. I hope you’lll enjoy it xo (tell me if u do, i’m nervous)

warnings: some alcohol is consumed, light swearing

ao3

Penelope Garcia can sniff out secrets like a cute security dog can sniff out drugs.

It's a well-known fact that if you want to keep something hidden, one, you don't tell Garcia because she's incapable of keeping anything secret and two, don't breathe near her because she will be able to figure out that you're hiding something, and she will know which buttons to push to get you to spill everything.

Penelope likes to think that in another life, she would've made a great interrogator. In this life though, she uses her powers to get what she wants out of her friends.

This was one of the first things y/n found out when she joined the BAU. Derek spoke about the tech goddess' powers with reverence while the rest of them spoke of it with fear. Even Hotch seemed a little disconcerted by the whole thing.

y/n had been amused but had brushed off the warning.

That had been her first mistake.

***

Paperwork days were the worst.

y/n should probably love them more because if she's stuck behind her desk, it means that no one is out there getting brutally murdered. Still, it's a lot less exciting. It doesn't help that the bullpen is oddly quiet, everyone focused on their files. Spencer is going through his about a mile a minute, stopping from time to time to rewrite something or to look up some kind of information. Derek is slower and y/n can almost see the boredom oozing out of him. Yet, he doesn't look up when she looks over at him and keeps diligently going through his notes.

Finally, her eyes land on Emily. Her head is propped up on her left hand as she writes with the right. Occasionally, she will bite her nails as she focuses hard on part of her notes. y/n thinks she looks extra cute when she frowns, trying to understand her own writing. It makes y/n smile before refocusing on her own work.

y/n is almost done with one of her reports when she notices some missing information. She could easily look it up herself, but she's bored and this is the perfect excuse to get away from her desk for a bit. So she stands up, gathers her papers and walks to her favourite tech genius' lair.

y/n opens the door and sees Penelope's back turned to her. Before she can say anything, Garcia's voice rings out.

"Well if it isn't my favourite ray of sunshine, what can I do for you, y/n?"

y/n smiles at the blonde's greeting, as she sits down next to her, "Are you busy?"

"Not at all!"

"Great, I'm missing some information on this file, but most importantly, I'm in dire need of entertainment."

Garcia happily grabs the file from y/n and starts tapping away at her computer, putting up the information she needs on her screen in no time. She prints it all out and hands it to y/n with a flourish.

"Here's the info you need," She starts, but her eyes quickly turn regretful, "Sadly, I have no recent office gossip to entertain you with."

y/n pouts at that, "Damn, not even from Slutty David?"

Penelope shakes her head and opens her mouth to speak when she suddenly frowns at y/n. She pulls back slightly and y/n wonders if she'd forgotten to put on deodorant that morning. Penelope says nothing, just watches her.

"What?" y/n finally asks, unnerved by the staring.

"What are you not telling me?" Garcia asks simply and it's y/n's turn to frown. She can't think of anything that she might be hiding from her friend.

"Nothing?"

y/n is pretty sure that's the wrong answer and that Penelope is going to keep asking her questions until she confesses to something she didn't even know she was hiding. To her surprise though, Garcia only stares at her for a few more seconds before dropping it. As quick as it disappeared, her bright smile is back on her face and she goes back to telling a story.

It turns out that yes, she did have something to tell y/n about Slutty David.

y/n leaves Penelope about twenty minutes later with a refreshed brain, ready to get back to work. When she gets back to her desk, Emily looks up to give her a smile. y/n smiles back and winks at her as she sits down. Emily's smile broadens before she turns her focus back to the file in front of her.

y/n does the same, her smile staying even while going through an autopsy report. It's only hours later when y/n is almost done with paperwork that she freezes. She looks up at Emily and realizes.

That's what she's been hiding.

She frowns. There's no way Garcia knows that though, she and Emily have made sure, they've been careful.

Yeah, it was probably a fluke.

***

Mornings where she gets to wake up next to Emily are y/n's favourites. Even the early ones, when they get called in for a case, having Emily next to her makes it all easier.

That's what happens that morning, both of their phones going off at 5:45 am. Emily is the one to reach for her phone while y/n latches onto her and drops a kiss on her girlfriend's shoulder.

"It's JJ. We have to go in."

y/n nods and painstakingly opens her eyes. She drops another kiss on Emily's shoulder and turns away from her to get up, but before she can go too far, Emily reaches for her and kisses her. y/n scrunches up her nose even though she's smiling into the kiss.

"Morning breath. Gross," She manages to mutter against Emily's lips.

"Don't care."

y/n had wondered when they started dating if it would get to a point where it'd be too much to be together and then work together as well. Now, six months into their relationship, y/n knows she had worried over nothing. They have a system and boundaries. They keep the PDA to a minimum at work, which isn't a problem considering they had decided to keep their relationship a secret from the team. It's not that Prentiss and y/l/n don't trust their coworkers, it's more than they don't want to screw up the group's dynamics.

And it's also ridiculously funny to see how long it's taking a whole group of profilers to figure out that two members of their team are dating.

After getting dressed, y/n starts packing a new bag, taking clothes from the one drawer Emily had emptied out and gifted to her on their 2 months anniversary. Emily had a similar one at y/n's place. Considering their jobs and the amount of time they spent at each other's place, they figured it was smart to always have enough clothes at each other's place for instances like these.

Not even 10 minutes later, they're out of the door. They kiss one last time before Emily gets into her car and y/n gets into hers. As usual, y/n takes the long way to work, her place being famously further away than Emily's. So when she finally gets to the conference room, everyone is already there and waiting for Hotch.

y/n sits in between Derek and Spencer, "Good morning, my people!"

"It certainly is not," Hotch deadpans as he enters the room. y/n closes her mouth and nods to herself. She should've seen that one coming.

The others chuckle quietly, but the laughter quickly dies. Hotch was right. This is far from a good morning.

The murders are gruesome, the victims are all women which bear a striking resemblance to Emily. y/n doesn't bring attention to it, it wouldn't bring anything to the case except worry over a detail that isn't of much importance, at least not right now. Instead, she watches her girlfriend look at the pictures, and by the way her jaw clenches and unclenches repeatedly, she's come to the same realization.

"Alright everyone, wheels up in 20." Hotch dismisses them, and almost everyone rushes out of the room to get their bags. Garcia stays behind though, and so does Emily. y/n gathers her stuff slowly then, waiting for Garcia to leave the room so she can have a moment alone with her girlfriend.

Garcia doesn't leave, though.

She's staring at y/n ominously. She's missing a furry cat to be petting and she'd look like a supervillain from a cheesy action movie. y/n tries smiling at her, but the blonde doesn't respond in the slightest.

y/n leaves the room. She'll check up on Emily before take-off. She is big enough to admit that she was a little freaked out by Garcia.

She thinks nothing of it until hours later, when she's setting up their evidence board in a small town in buttfuck, Texas. JJ is standing next to her, writing the name of the second victim.

"Garcia has been asking about you."

It's such a weird thing to say that y/n is a bit taken aback. She pauses and slowly turns to look at JJ, "Uhm… Okay?"

JJ puts the cap on the pen and turns to y/n, her face probably too serious for whatever this is about.

"Remember when we told you about Garcia's weird ability to tell when someone is hiding something juicy?" y/n nods, still confused as to where this is going, "Well, she's smelt whatever it is that you're hiding."

y/n briefly wonders if no one is bothered by the constant comparison of Garcia to a literal hound dog, but apparently not. She lets out a small chuckle and nods at JJ, clearly not believing the warning tone the blonde had used, "Yeah, okay, I'll sleep with one eye open."

"y/n, I'm serious," JJ lowers her voice and looks around before confiding, "Penelope is the reason the whole team knows I had a one night stand with Slutty David."

"You had sex with Slutty David?"

JJ shudders, "Everybody makes mistakes."

***

y/n tells Emily about JJ's warning as they cuddle into bed that same night, exhausted from a day of leads getting them nowhere. To her surprise, Emily agrees with JJ.

"Garcia has a way of getting you to admit to things you thought you'd never say out loud."

The way she talks about it has y/n looking up from her very comfortable spot on Emily's shoulder to her girlfriend's face. She's staring off in the distance as if haunted by whatever it is that Garcia had dug up on her.

"What the hell did she find out about you?"

"I don't wanna talk about it."

***

"So, are you seeing anyone?"

It's Saturday night and they're out at a club for a Girl's night. After the case they'd had, they deserved a night to unwind. They've chosen a bar where the music is loud, but not loud enough to drown out Penelope's question. JJ and Emily are gone, lost somewhere in the crowd fighting for the bartender's attention, in search of more drinks. As y/n's brain finally processes what Garcia has just asked, she fights the urge to smile and look for Emily.

y/n has drunk enough to be on the dumb side of gay.

"Why do you ask?"

"Answering a question with another question, very telling," Garcia smirks.

Penelope seems oddly composed for someone who is two cocktails and three shots deep into the party. Usually, a drunk Garcia means sloppy kisses on the cheek and getting her away from attractive strangers before she can say anything overtly sexual or inappropriate. So something doesn't add up. y/n squints her eyes at the blonde in front of her, like that will somehow help her see things clearer.

It doesn't. Everything looks fuzzy and she probably should stop drinking.

"I'm not."

The lie tastes gross in y/n's mouth and if there's one thing that could make her feel better, it would be kissing Emily. Before she can stop it, a smitten smile makes its way onto her face. Garcia slams a hand on the table, making y/n jump. She focuses her eyes on Penelope who's pointing an accusing finger at her.

"There! Who did you just think about?"

y/n sputters, racking her brain for a more convincing lie but she can't stop smiling so she gives in. Damn her inability to lie when she's drunk.

"Okay, fine" y/n amends, "I am seeing someone, but please keep it quiet."

Penelope obviously does not keep quiet. Instead, she squeals loud enough that she startles a few people passing by their table. Of course, that's also the moment JJ and Emily pick to come back.

So when Garcia basically yells, "I knew it!" for the whole bar to hear, there's no way y/n is getting out of this one.

"Knew what?" Emily asks with a smile as she puts down a drink in front of y/n. She immediately grabs it, thinking that maybe if she blacks out, this conversation will also be erased from the history of the universe.

"y/n is seeing someone!" Penelope happily informs the two recently arrived. JJ whips her head, excitement filling her eyes, about a million questions fighting to be asked first. Emily, for her part, chokes on her drink.

"Why haven't you told us anything?" JJ says, her blue eyes even more glassy than usual, "Who is it?"

y/n shrugs, going for a nonchalant vibe. She goes with something vague.

"You don't know her."

Penelope's smile widens, "Oh, so it's a her."

Shit. Not vague enough.

What follows are a series of questions that y/n refuses to answer and thankfully, with Emily there to mediate, they manage to change the subject. Seriously, y/n could kiss her right then and there. Instead, she takes a sip of her drink and glances towards Emily. They decide to leave less than an hour later. JJ is about one sip away from taking her top off while y/n is just about ready to throw caution to the wind and start making out with Emily. To hell with consequences.

Penelope is still suspiciously acting sane.

"Oh, Pen, be careful, someone dropped their drinks right behind your chair."

JJ's heads up makes y/n glare at Garcia who looks a little too guilty.

***

When they get back to Emily's place, y/n barely waits until the front door is closed before kissing Emily. Emily welcomes it, blindly throwing away the keys to wrap both hands around her girlfriend's neck. The kissing is sweet, the taste of their last drinks still sticking to their mouths. It's a little messy due to the fact they're both smiling like two goddamn idiots in love. When they stop, Emily grabs y/n by the hand and drags her to the kitchen so they can both drink water to make their hangovers hopefully less painful in the morning.

They're almost done when Emily speaks.

"We have a problem."

y/n stops moving. She should've known this moment would come.

"Listen, if this is about the burnt toaster, I've already ordered a new one."

"Garcia- What?" Emily turns around to look at the spot where her toaster usually rests, "What happened?"

Realizing her mistake, y/n puts her empty glass of water down and wraps her arms around Emily's waist, "Nothing you need to worry about," Emily looks back at her girlfriend who looks too innocent, "What were you going to say?"

"Garcia knows you're with someone."

y/n nods slowly, wondering where Emily is going with this. She doesn't see any problems. Sure, Penelope knows that she might be sort of taken by a woman, but that's it. Even in her drunken state, she'd managed to keep any other incriminating details to herself.

"Garcia has a way of finding things out, it's only a matter of time until she puts two and two together."

Emily looks genuinely fearful and y/n wonders again, what kind of dirt Penelope had gotten Emily to disclose. She thinks back to JJ's warning as well. y/n turns it over in her head, but in the end, she scoffs and leans up to kiss Emily.

"Don't worry, babe. I'll make up a fake break up or something and we'll be fine."

Thinking she could fool Penelope Garcia so easily was y/n's second mistake.

***

Derek is getting himself coffee when y/n swiftly approaches him from the side.

"What secret did Garcia get out of Emily?"

"Which time?"

"There's more than one?"

"Oh yeah."

***

The whole thing with Garcia does make y/n and Emily reconsider telling the team, or at the very least, Hotch and HR.

They hadn't at first because of team dynamics, but mostly because they themselves were figuring out how they worked as a couple. It turns out they worked great, and hiding each other from their coworkers and best friends was getting a bit much for the both of them.

They wanted to show up at Rossi's dinner parties together without worrying about what their friends would think. y/n wanted to hold Emily's hand after a rough case on the jet without it being questioned, just as much as Emily wanted to drive with y/n to work every morning and walk into the building together.

So the next morning, Emily and y/n get to work before anyone else and walk into Hotch's office.

He doesn't have much of a reaction, not that they were expecting anything more.

What does surprise them is that, after giving them the whole speech about professionalism and whatnot, he smiles at them and says, "I'm happy for you both."

Aaron Hotchner smiles at them and y/n feels like her relationship has just been blessed by the angels from above.

***

"Hey, Spence? Do you know what Garcia dug up on Emily?"

"Emily sprained her wrist a few years back and told us that it had happened at the range. It turns out that she'd sprained it falling from her skateboard."

"Her skate- What?"

***

When y/n had told Emily they'd be fine, she wasn't being cocky, but she just knew that there was no way Garcia would suspect something with how careful they had been.

They never showed up together at work. At first, they always timed their arrivals carefully, until it became second nature. They were never overly affectionate with each other. If they needed to be comforted during a particularly hard case, they'd wait to be behind the closed doors of the hotel room they shared on most trips. As much as y/n wanted to, she never showed up to work wearing one of her girlfriend's sweaters, no matter how warm and comfortable they were.

Bottom line was, there was no reason for Garcia to suspect anything when their teammates who were literal profilers hadn't caught onto anything.

No one except Hotch knew. And only because they'd told him, so.

y/n should've known though, from being a profiler herself, that being too confident meant she was bound to slip up and make a mistake sooner rather than later.

It all happens very quickly.

JJ asks y/n if she can grab a couple of files she had left with Garcia and bring them back to her because she was waiting for someone to call and she couldn't go too far. y/n, of course, accepts, always happy to get away from her desk and the paperwork begging for her attention. She quickly knocks on Garcia's door before entering and the tech doesn't turn around as she greets her.

"Bonjour, Emily, what brings you to Casa Garcia today?"

y/n chuckles at the blonde's eccentricities, "Sorry, but you got it wrong, it's me."

Penelope rolls her chair around to face her and she looks truly distraught to have gotten it wrong, "But I always get it right. I'm the all-knowing Penelope Garcia."

y/n gently pats her shoulder as she reaches past her to some files she sees on the desk, "Are these JJ's? She asked me to get them for her."

Garcia nods, but she still looks defeated at having failed to guess her visitor's identity, so y/n tells her she'll come by later with some coffee for a chat. Penelope nods and turns her attention back to her computer and so she leaves.

It's funny, y/n thinks, that of all the people Penelope could have confused her with, it was Emily. Maybe some of Emily's fears had planted themselves into her brain unbeknownst to her because y/n suddenly feels very uneasy. Why did Pen think it was Emily walking in? Had she unconsciously started walking like her girlfriend? No, no, that was ridiculous. Emily had a very distinctive gate that was very different from y/n's.

Still, something is off. y/n trusts her gut, it has never failed her, and her gut is telling her something is off.

She doesn't know what though. She had woken up with Emily that morning and they'd actually had time to enjoy a nice breakfast together and had plenty of time to get ready together. In fact, they had even gotten to enjoy a very pleasant shower together. y/n smiles at that particularly good memory until she realizes.

"Shit," she mutters, but not quietly enough. She's standing in the middle of the bullpen, her coworkers' eyes on her. Before she can tell herself that it's fine, that she was just paranoid and that there was no way Penelope had noticed, she hears a familiar but hurried clicking of heels approach the bullpen. y/n turns around to see Penelope standing on the other side of the glass window and one look at her is all y/n needs.

She knows.

Before Garcia can make her way inside the bullpen and bring mayhem with her, y/n hastily makes her way to her. She drops JJ's files on her desk haphazardly under Derek, Emily and Spencer's bewildered eyes. When she gets to Penelope, she gently grabs her by the arm and urgently leads her away.

"You smell like lavender!" Penelope exclaims with no preamble, "You usually don't smell like lavender, you smell of honey and coconut, but never lavender and that's why I got confused!"

y/n confidently nods in greeting at an agent passing by Garcia's office as y/n shoves her inside. He looks unsettled but only smiles in return, preferring to ignore whatever is going on. Smart man.

"That's why I thought you were Emily! Because Emily is the one who smells of lavender!" Penelope is pacing while y/n stands with her back to the door.

"Okay, Pen, I need you to breathe," She says when the techie is still going on about lavender, honey and coconut.

"Breathe? How can I breathe when you and Emily are dating."

y/n thinks that's a bit dramatic, but Garcia has finally stopped pacing and talking. y/n slowly steps towards the blonde and puts both of her hands on her shoulders. She debates for a few seconds, wonders if she'd get away with a lie but at this point, y/n's pretty sure the cat is out of the bag.

"Yeah, Emily and I are together."

y/n should've been prepared for it, but when Garcia lets out a high pitched squeal, it still gets her by surprise. Her pained grimace is quickly chased away by laughter when Penelope hugs her with all the strength and excitement caffeine was providing her.

"This is so great, I'm so happy for you two!" She lets you go long enough to see the smile that's made its way onto her face. It's the same smitten smile she always gets whenever she thinks about Emily and Garcia honest to god pinches her cheeks, "Aww, look at that smile!"

y/n laughs and tries to get her cheeks away from anymore pinching. That's when the door opens enough for Emily to sneak her head in, "Hey you two, is everything okay?"

She looks at Penelope first, but her eyes end on y/n. Before she can say anything though, Penelope smirks, "Why yes, lover, everything is just fine."

At that, Emily gets in and closes the door behind her. She looks at y/n for confirmation.

y/n just nods, "Yeah, she knows."

"You bet your sweet ass I know!"

And with no further warning, Penelope tackles Emily in a hug much as she'd done with y/n minutes prior. When she lets her go, Emily steps closer to y/n, and with a hand on her lower back, she says, "I told you she'd find out."

y/n ignores the I told you so her girlfriend apparently couldn't wait to give her, but yeah, she's not wrong.

It'll teach her to ever doubt the abilities of the all-knowing Penelope Garcia.

***

Months and months later, y/n meets up with Penelope for brunch on a Sunday morning. Before she can even greet her, the blonde fixes her with a stare that is both strange but oh so very familiar.

"What are you planning?"

This time, y/n grins and tells Garcia not to worry, that she'll know in due time. After all, she can only hide the little velvet box in her coat pocket and its content for so long.

***