#maybe he thinks he can pull this off without going back to college and eventually realises he cant and then has to try to pick up his credi

[iangallagherisadeadman]

post-s11 Tami definitely gets tired of Lip and leaves him.

yes, I do like them as a couple, I think it is an interesting dynamic and that Tami is good for him honestly, even though they lived completely different lives and crash so many times because of it throughout the last seasons.

fact is Lip won't ever change and will keep making the same kind of mistakes and she will get fed up with it eventually. they'll go different ways, maybe keep a somewhat friendly relationship, and she will get a new partner and Lip will have a Sean kind of relationship with Fred: that kid is the most important thing in his whole life and he's constantly hunted by the fear of drinking again and hurting Fred.

[wafflefries13]

Home is Where Our Heart Is (Yandere Twisted Wonderland X Reader)

Summary: There's a rumor going around that Crowley found a way to send you back to your original world, and, well, the boys aren't taking the news well.

AN: First time writing yandere stuff. I originally wanted to have this out near Halloween to keep with scary stuff, but as long as it gets done eventually, right?

Cros-posted on my AO3 TheGhostInTheKitchen

Warnings: Can be read as romantic or platonic, possessive and obsessive behavior, spying, conspiring to poison, fighting - physical and verbal, AFAB reader with she/her pronouns.

“There’s something important I want to tell you guys,” (Y/N) said. 

Ace and Deuce lifted their heads to look at her. The four of them, (Y/N), Grim, Ace, and Deuce, were all huddled together on the floor of the alchemy classroom, heads bent low as they worked on untangling long threads of manticore mane hair, the most recent punishment from Professor Crewel for some misdemeanor they probably deserved but still complained about. 

“What’s up?” Ace asked. He grinned wickedly. “Did you fall through another rotten part of the floor at Ramshackle and need saving again?” 

(Y/N) scowled as she swatted him with the back of her hand, without any real malice behind it. “No, and shut up. Maybe I won’t tell you.” 

“Ignore him,” Deuce said, picking at a particularly stubborn knot. “What’s up?” 

(Y/N) hesitated. “Actually, now might not be the best time.” 

“Is it that thing you were talking to Crowley about?” Grim asked, gnawing at the hair. “Pah! Gross.” 

“Keep that out of your mouth, you don’t know where it’s been. And yeah, that. Now that I’m thinking about it, though, it might just be easier to tell everyone all at once.” 

Ace and Deuce looked at each other. “Everything okay?” Deuce asked slowly. 

(Y/N) shook her head. “Oh, yeah, fine. Just kind of important, I think. And I’d rather do it all at once. Sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned anything. Actually, I think I’m going to have a big dinner this weekend, invite everyone over. Ease the blow, maybe.” She chuckled mirthlessly at a joke only she knew. 

Ace and Deuce looked at each other again, jaws tense and rising panic building behind their eyes. Their minds raced in tandem, putting together the puzzle pieces of the piecemeal information (Y/N) had told them. Something important involving Crowley, something she would want to keep on the down low until she was able to confront everyone at the same time. The Headmage himself didn’t really seem to carry especially important information. Considering all the work and responsibilities he dumped on (Y/N), they often wondered what exactly he even did at Night Raven College. But there was one thing he had supposedly been focused on since the beginning of the school year: finding a way to send (Y/N) back to her original world. But that couldn’t be it, right? There was no way the bird brain had actually mastered interdimensional magical travel, right? And, even if he had, there was no way (Y/N) was actually just going to up and leave, right? 

Right? 

The room was quiet for just a beat too long as the two Heartsabyul first years communicated silently. (Y/N) looked back up, her eyebrows scrunched together in worry. She opened her mouth to say something, but Ace cut her off with his signature troublemaker smirk and said, “Ooh, so mysterious. You sure you don’t need saving again? You have that bad habit of throwing yourself in danger every chance you get.” 

With that, the tension was broken. (Y/N) swatted at Ace again, laughing. They chatted aimlessly as they continued their tedious work. But, the moment (Y/N) lowered her head to pull tangled hair from Grim’s claws, Ace and Deuce looked at each other again, faces set and serious. An agreement passed between them. They were going to need help. 

~~~

“But did she say she was leaving?” Jack asked, voice tight but trying to remain calm. 

Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Ortho, and Sebek were in the quad near the wishing well. Other students milled around, going to clubs or studying, their voices drifting meaninglessly around the small group. Epel was pacing, fists balled at his sides, gnawing at his lower lip. Ortho stared, unmoving in that way that reminded people that he was in fact made of metal and wires and not flesh and blood. Sebek was standing soldier straight with his chin up. His mouth was pulled down in a frown, but that was so often his standard expression that only someone who knew him well would be able to see the actual distress on his face. Jack’s foot tapped restlessly, hands clasped together so tight his knuckles were turning bloodless. 

“No,” Deuce said. “Not specifically. But what else would she be talking about, you know? We don’t keep secrets from each other.” 

“But we don’t know anything for certain,” Jack said. “Maybe we-” 

“This is bullshit!” Epel shouted. Several students walking by startled, hurrying away with their heads down. His accent came out strong. “She’s just gonna up and leave? After everything? Everything we’ve done and been through? Did none of it matter? Does she not even care about us?” 

Deuce winced. “I mean, I guess she misses home-” 

“We’re her home!” Ace hissed. “Epel’s right. She doesn't belong back there, whatever that place is.” Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair and tugging. “Well, what are we supposed to do? Keep her here?” 

“That’s not a bad idea,” Sebek said. The others turned to him. He was looking off in the distance, eyes unfocused. When he felt their gaze, he turned back to them, blinking twice and clearing his throat. “Ahem, I only mean that Lord Malleus has grown rather fond of (Y/N) these past few months, for whatever reason. As his retainer, I couldn’t bear his distress if such a close friend were to vanish with no way of contacting them.” 

“Lord Malleus,” Ace said. “Sure.” 

“I would anticipate that the Prefect's absence would cause a rise of at least 75% in stress levels at Night Raven College. Accompanying this would also be an increased chance of Overblot by a minimum of 35%.” Ortho put a hand to his temple as his eyes flashed with calculations. “40%. 43%. 50%. 60%.” 

“Right, right, we get it,” Epel said. 

“Alright, we just need to think this through for a second,” Deuce said, standing and holding up his hands. “We can just explain, right? (Y/N)’s a good person, she’ll hear us out. We’ll just explain why we’re worried and, and…” 

“And what?” Epel said. “You think we can somehow convince her to stay here?” 

“Prefect (Y/N) technically doesn't exist in this world,” Ortho said. “She has no records outside of Night Raven College, no citizenship or birth certificate. Outside of the Night Raven College campus, she’s not even a ghost.” 

“So,” Sebek said, eyes going glazed over again. “It would be simple for her to disappear from the rest of the world.” 

A heavy silence fell over them. Immediately, everyone’s mind went to the same place, formulating a plan with the same end goal. Their hearts began racing as they started conjuring up ideas and methods of execution, solutions for technical problems that might arise. (Y/N)’s  reaction to these plans didn’t particularly matter at the moment. After all, it would all be worth it in the end, right? 

“Okay, wait, hang on,” Jack said, trying to quiet his racing thoughts and the dark places they were going. “We - we need to think this through. It’s not like we can just kidnap her or anything.” “You’re right,” Deuce said. “We’ll need help. If we want to pull this off we need resources.” 

“We’ll need people to back us up,” Ace agreed. “Getting her somewhere in the first place is the easy part, but we wouldn’t want to scare her for too long, you know? If we can convince her we know best it’d be easier in the long run, right?” 

“Lord Malleus has access to many fine manors in the Briar Valley,” Sebek said. 

“All the way to the Briar Valley?” Epel said. “Isn’t that place still hostile against humans? We can go to Harveston, it’s in the middle of the mountains. My uncle has a hunting lodge out there, it’d be perfect.” 

“The Isle of Woe is also an isolated location,” Ortho said. “And it would be much easier to keep (Y/N) under surveillance.” 

“Wait!” The others went silent, watching Jack. 

“Jack,” Ace said. “We’re either all in this together or not at all. Come on, how many times have we needed to save (Y/N)? How many times has she had to save us?” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Would you really be okay with never seeing her again?” 

Jack rubbed the back of his neck, eyes shut tight. They waited with bated breath for him to speak. Finally, he sighed. “Leona has resources. He has people, power, money. And I know he would want to know about this too. We’ll need other people to help with this. If she just suddenly vanished without warning I can think of several people who would look into it. And if they find out we planned something without them it would just make things more difficult.” 

The others smiled, relieved that one of the hardest people to convince was unequivocally on board. 

“Okay, so,” Ace said, clapping his hands. “We need a plan. Anyone have a good idea?” 

The others were quiet, the holes in their initial imagination growing bigger and bigger. 

“Well, no,” Deuce said. “But I know someone who might.” 

~~~

The atmosphere in Octavinelle always walked the tightrope between cool and calming and cutthroat and calculating, but maybe that had more to do with the first year's previous experience than the actual building. 

“Well, well, well,” Azul said smugly, leaning back in the plush chair in his office. “I didn’t expect to see you both back here so soon.” 

Ace and Deuce squirmed in their seats, trying, and failing, to look nonplussed by the looming Jade and Floyd. 

“Of course,” Azul continued. “I’m more than happy to assist any poor, unfortunate soul who should need my help. For the right price, of course. But, well, we’ve been through so much together, I’ll even give you a discount! What can the Monstro Lounge do for you today, boys?” 

Ace cleared his throat, warily eyeing Floyd’s wide grin. “Actually, there’s something we could do for you.” 

Azul raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Oh? Do tell.” 

“We think (Y/N) is going back to her world,” Deuce spit out, cracking under pressure. “We have a plan, well, kind of a plan, we’re coming up with ideas, but we know she’d be better here, happier here, we just need time to convince her, you know? So we, Ace and me and the other first years, we’re wanting to keep her here, maybe not at NRC but somewhere, until we can convince her, make her see reason. And we thought, we know you guys like her too so we thought you would want to help or-” 

“Shrimpy’s leaving?” Floyd said. His face was scrunched in confusion. Even Jade looked surprised, wide eyes and hand curled in front of his mouth. Azul had visibly paled, so much so that they worried he might faint. 

“I-” Azul’s voice cracked.

“That’s quite the rumor,” Jade said, covering for Azul. “I could see it being very damaging if it was spread around in malice.” 

“It’s not a rumor,” Ace said. “She basically told us yesterday.” 

“Shrimpy’s leaving?” Floyd repeated. His face flashed from confusion to hurt to anger. Without a word, he snapped up, stalking to the door. He threw it open so hard it cracked against the wall leaving an indent from the knob in the plaster. 

“Floyd!” Jade called after him. 

“No!” The other twin snapped. He barreled through the Mostro Lounge, patrons and waiters jumping out of his way with wide and appropriately afraid eyes. 

“Floyd, wait!”

“No!” 

The others caught up with Floyd halfway to the mirror portal to the main campus. Jade caught Floyd by the elbow, ducking in a practiced way when Floyd’s other elbow swung back. 

“No!” Floyd shouted again. “She’s not leaving! You’re lying!”

“See?” Ace said, waving his hand in Floyd’s direction. “You don’t want her to leave either! But no one’s going to like it if you just go up there and start freaking her out!” 

“We’re telling everyone,” Deuce continued. “Well, not everyone, but the people important, you know? We’re planning a meeting to figure this out. We can’t let (Y/N) leave. We can’t.” 

Floyd had calmed down enough that there wasn’t an immediate danger of a fight, but he was still seething. Jade still kept a tight grip on his brother’s arm, but it was more to anchor himself than keep Floyd from sprinting away again. 

“A plan,” Azul said. “You need a plan. Or, perhaps, a certain magical way to prevent (Y/N) from doing something… inadvisable.” 

“Yes, exactly,” Deuce said.

“We know it might be hard to get (Y/N) to sign one of your contracts given what’s happened before,” Ace said, giving Azul the side eye. 

“But we need every resource we can pull together,” Deuce finished. “We’re setting up a meeting tomorrow. We can count on you guys being there, right?” 

The three merpeople looked at each other. Unspoken conversation passed between them, the benefit of having known each other for the majority of their lives. 

“I’ll start drafting a contract immediately,” Azul said, golden light flourishing around his hand as he kicked up his signature spell. 

“I do believe there are certain species of mushroom in the nearby forest that could induce temporary paralysis,” Jade said, smiling slyly. “It might be worth it to have the Mountain Lovers Club take an unplanned execution.” 

“Hey, if nothing else,” Floyd said. “I’d love to give Shrimpy a big squeeze.” 

~~~

A pair of Pomefiore students were walking down the hall of their dorm, mindlessly chatting. They both froze as they heard a scream, followed by a loud crash. They crept to one of the sitting rooms, nudging the door open just enough to peek inside. 

Vil, their fearless, elegant, always poised house warden screamed again. He picked up a vase, at least one hundred years old and filled with beautiful hard to cultivate lilies, and threw it against the wall, shattering into a thousand pieces. Reclining in one of the plush purple velvet chairs was the vice house warden Rook. His posture didn’t betray any concern or stress at Vil’s outburst, but the smile stretched across his face caused shivers to run down the spines of the two observers. Rook was tightly holding an arrow, his quiver at his side, tapping the sharper than usual point. Epel stood off to one side. He was hunched over, something that usually would have earned a scolding from Vil. He was carving an apple with single-minded determination, stabbing the soft flesh and discarding pieces with a flick of the wrist. Somehow, the stillness from the rambunctious farm boy who would jump at any chance to throw down was even more intimidating than if he was coming at them fists swinging. 

The two students looked at each other before quietly closing the door behind them and rushing from the scene. Knowing the penchant for chaos NRC students had, whatever was going on was way beyond their pay grade. 

Vil roared again, unending a long coffee table. It flipped twice before landing upside down, the papers and decorations on top fluttering in disarray. Vil took heaving breaths, facing a vanity on one side of the room, tightly gripping its sides as his nails carved tiny divots into the soft wood. He took one last deep breath, straightening and smoothing out his hair. He turned around, only a slight red flush any indication he was in distress. 

“Alright,” He said. “Rook, my book.” 

Rook jumped up, retrieving an intricately decorated purple and gold tome from where it had fallen. He handed it to Vil like a supplicant offering a sacrifice to a vengeful god, head slightly bowed and hands outstretched. 

“What are you looking for?” Epel asked. 

“I’ll know when I see it,” Vil said, not looking up. He flipped through the vellum pages. “A sleeping potion would be a temporary solution, at least as an easy way to secure her to another place. An Iron Stake spell is a possibility, but that would only secure her to one specific place and cause illness if she left the designated area, so that would be too restrictive. A potion to induce Hanahaki. If we can convince her she has a magical based illness, then she would need to stay somewhere she could receive magical treatment.”  

“We were wanting to gather everyone in one place,” Epel said. “To come up with ideas.” 

Vil scoffed. “As if half of those fools can even look farther than their own nose. I don’t trust anyone else to treat this issue with the delicate hand it needs.” 

“Perhaps,” Rook said smoothly. “But we must consider that our dear Trickster has made a place in the hearts of many others. And while your methods would obviously be far superior and much more beautiful, we can’t discount the interference of well meaning interlopers.” Rook gave Epel a wink as he skillfully directed Vil into cooperation. 

“Hmm,” Vil hummed, snapping the book shut. “Unfortunately, you have a point. Very well. Epel, we will attend this conclave. If nothing else than to emphasize that we know what’s best for (Y/N), despite what those uncultured miscreants might think.” 

Epel set his apple down, stabbing his knife upright. He grinned wickedly. “Absolutely, House Warden.” 

~~~

Jamil was cooking. Which, in itself, wasn’t that unusual. Jamil cooked all the time. Special meals for Kalim to ensure nothing was tampered with, feasts for the almost weekly Scarabia parties, just to have something other than the repetitive cafeteria fair. But whatever Jamil was doing now caused the gathered Scarabia students to stay out of the kitchen, watching in concern from their hiding places around the door. 

Jamil was staring straight ahead, not paying attention to the incredibly sharp knife in his hand. He methodically chopped fruits and vegetables, not paying any attention that they were already in minuscule cubes, juices dripping down the counter to pool at his feet. A pot on the stove was close to boiling over. Even the fridge had been left open, cold air escaping into the warm room. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Kalim asked, seeing his dorm mates crowded around the kitchen entrance. He sniffed the air and smiled. “Ooh, Jamil is cooking something good! Are you all waiting for it to be ready?” 

“Uh, House Warden?” One of the students said tentatively. “I think you should check on Vice House Warden Jamil. He seems…” 

“Stressed?” Someone offered. 

“Distracted,” Another said. 

“About to Overblot again,” A third muttered under their breath. The boys around him shushed him. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll see what’s up!” Kalim said cheerfully. He waved them away, coming into the kitchen with the same happy-go-lucky free spirit he did everything with, not noticing the warry looks the departing students gave him. “Jamil!” He greeted, slapping Jamil’s shoulder. “What’s up?” 

Jamil barely flinched, still looking at something in the far distance only he could see. “(Y/N) is leaving.” 

“Hmm? Do we have a vacation coming up?” 

“No, she’s leaving.” 

Kalim’s smile started to falter. “Is she transferring or something? Like to Nobel Bell College?” 

“No.” Jamil slammed the knife down, lodging in the cutting board. “She’s leaving. Leaving Night Raven College, leaving Sage’s Island, leaving Twisted Wonderland, leaving m-” He cut himself off. With a sharp pull, he yanked the knife out of the board, sliding over a sweet potato to dice. “She’s going back to her world. Crowley must have found a way. Ace and Floyd told me at basketball practice today. They’re organizing some sort of meeting with the others to talk about it. Whatever good that will do.” 

“Oh.” Kalim blinked, thinking. “That… would be bad.” 

Jamil laughed dourly. “That’s an understatement.” 

Kamil smiled again. “Well, that’s fine. You can fix that easy, right?” Jamil stopped, turning to Kalim with a quizzical look. Kalim tapped his temple next to his eye. “You know, with your unique magic! You can just tell her not to leave, like you did with me.” He didn’t say it with any malice, not blaming Jamil for their past misadventure. 

“I…” 

“Oh, come on,” Kalim said, jumping up and coming over to Jamil, leaning against the counter and plucking at the desiccated food. “Don’t tell me you didn’t think of it. I know Snake Whisper doesn't last for too long, but if we bring her to one of the Asim chateaus, you know, maybe in the middle of the Scalding Sands desert, you can just recast it whenever, right? Oh, unless that wears you out too much. I bet we can find another way to keep her around while you recover though!” Kalim popped a date in his mouth nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just suggested kidnapping and hypnotizing their friend for an undetermined period of time. 

“You…” Jamil started, trailing off. He laughed, shaking his head. He turned down the stove on the boiling pot, scrapping the chopped vegetables into a bowl, and kicked the fridge door closed. “Well, if I have your permission, then who am I to argue?” 

Kalim just smiled, eating another date. 

~~~ 

Idia was typing so fast his hands were practically a blur. On his multi-monitor computer setup, footage from the multiple hidden cameras around campus zoomed by as he searched for specific information. He gnawed on his thumb nail. 

“And you’re sure she said that?” He asked Ortho, resting in his charging station. “The Bird Brain found a way for her to go back-” He almost said ‘home,’ but that word didn’t feel right when talking about you. This was your home now, right? It was. It had to be. “Back to her original world?” 

“Prefect (Y/N) was speaking to Ace Trapolla and Deuce Spade, so I didn’t hear her exact wording or was able to monitor her vitals for evidence of deception,” Ortho said. “But she had invited us and the others involved in the various Overblot incidents to dinner this Saturday, which aligns with the announcement they said she wanted to make.” 

Idia kept clicking, following (Y/N)’s movements the day before she dropped a bombshell on Ace and Deuce. The world sped by at 10x speed on the screen. Idia’s hair sparked with red and orange as his concern, rage, and betrayal simmered underneath the surface. 

He slowed the replay speed down as (Y/N) approached the Headmage’s office, meeting Crowley outside the door. There wasn’t any audio, Idia cursed himself for not installing that feature ahead of time. (Y/N) indicated the office and Crowley held the doors open for her with a flourish. He cursed again that he hadn’t managed to sneak any cameras in the office. 

Idia sped up the footage again, scrambling when (Y/N) and Crowley left the office only a few minutes later. He would have thought a conversation about her possible return would have taken a lot longer. Crowley dramatically mimed wiping a tear from his masked eye, shaking her hand with both of his. As they were speaking, Professor Trein and Professor Crewel both walked up. Crowley waved them over, animatedly speaking to them, waving at (Y/N). Crewel patted her head while Trein gave her a warm smile and nod. Idia could just read Crewel’s lips as he said, “Good luck, pup.” 

‘Good luck’? Why would she need good luck? She had all the luck she needed if she stayed here. How else would you explain all of the incidents that had happened all year while still escaping unscathed? You would only lose that luck if you went somewhere else, somewhere far, too far, away. 

Idia bashed his hands against his keyboard, his fire-like hair engulfed in red, hitting the keys to pause the video. The video had stopped on a shot of her face, smiling, eyes crinkled at the corners, hand up in a silent goodbye. 

No, not goodbye. Not if he could help it. 

“Ortho,” Idia said. “Send a message to Mom and Dad. We’ll need a guest room set up.” 

~~~

“And you told Azul before me?!” Riddle raged. 

Ace and Deuce cringed back, subconsciously guarding their throats in case Riddle unleashed his unique magic. 

The two first years had corralled Riddle, Trey, and Cater in one of the tea rooms at the Heatslabyul dorm. While Riddle had already started the impromptu meeting annoyed, there were rules for setting an assembly, priorities quickly shifted. 

“Riddle,” Trey said, trying to keep his voice even and calm. “Would you want (Y/N) to see you like this?” 

Riddle flinched back at Trey’s statement. He forced his shoulders to relax, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “One, two, three,” He began counting. “What’s he doing?” Deuce whispered. 

“Counting,” Riddle said, voice still steely. “To try and calm my nerves so I don’t do something you’ll regret!” 

“Don’t you mean ‘something I’ll regret’?” Ace asked. Deuce glared at him. 

Riddle smiled coldly. “Yes, you will regret it.” 

“Cater?” Deuce asked. The ginger-haired boy was humming tunelessly, tapping on his phone what a vacant look on his face. “Are you okay?” 

“Of course,” Cater said. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Because (Y/N) might be leaving and we’ll never see or hear from her ever again?” 

Cater only stared at him, blinking, eyes lost in a thousand yard stare. He suddenly perked up. “Oh! That reminds me. (Y/N) and I were going to go to the Glass Slipper Gala this summer! It’s pretty much impossible to get tickets to the actual event, obvi, but there are all these side parties where people dress up for the theme that year. Totally Magicamable and sups adorbs.” He lifted his phone and took a selfie, retreating back into his own world as he kept tapping on the screen. 

“I… think he might be in denial,” Trey sighed. “It is a big change, I suppose.” 

“That’s what I’m saying,” Ace said, spreading his hands. “It doesn't have to be! When we meet up with everyone tomorrow night-” 

“Everyone?” Trey asked. “The more people involved in this, the more likely it is to get out of control. Especially with the, uh, strong personalities we have here.” 

“So,” Ace said. “That’s why we’re telling you guys now. We’re obviously the best people to handle this. Sure, we let the other dorms think they’re in control, but that’s only the first part of the plan. You got to appeal to their egos, you know? And after that…” 

“We swoop in with Heatslabuyl style and save the day!” Deuce finished. 

“We all know she likes us best, anyway,” Ace said, leaning back with a confident grin. “And if we ‘save’ her from whatever those guys have planned, say we need to lay low for a while…” 

“Then she not only depends on us,” Trey said, picking up the thread. “But she’ll also feel indebted to us.” 

“And if anyone else tries to swoop in and make a nuisance of themselves,” Riddle continued. “She’ll be hesitant to trust anyone from the outside.” 

“What’s that saying?” Deuce asked. “A gilded cage is still gilded?” 

“Not exactly,” Trey said. “But, I’ll admit, it has the making of a good plan.” 

Riddle humphed, hands on his hips. “Well, then, we don’t have very long. We need a strategy going into this meeting. Here,” He arranged parts of the tea set around the table, assigning each of them to one of their cabal. “We can use this to start visualizing a scenario.” 

“Maybe we can wear matching outfits,” Cater said dreamily, still off in his own world. 

~~~

Leona leaned back against the tree, crossing his arms behind his head, eyes closed. “So?” He said. His tail twitched restlessly beside him, the only sign of agitation. 

Jack frowned. “So? So (Y/N) might be leaving and never coming back. We have to do something about this.” 

“So, if she wants to go and throw away everything she has here, everyone who cares about her, everything she’s built, fine, go ahead. No skin off my nose.” 

Ruggie’s ears were flat back against his head. “You’re such a liar.” 

Leona cracked one eye open, glaring. “What was that?” 

Ruggie jumped to his feet, gnashing his teeth. “Don’t just sit there and pretend you don’t care! Don’t act like this isn’t your fault! You act so laissez-faire all the time, like you don’t care about anyone or anything. You just push people away, you’ve pushed her away! And now we’re all paying for your inferiority complex!” 

Leona lunged at Ruggie so fast Jack’s eyes couldn’t even track it. One second they were a yard apart, Leona pouting with not a care in the world, Ruggie standing, fists clenched tightly at his side. The next they were tumbling over each other, Ruggie snapping his teeth at Leona’s obviously superior strength as the House Warden held him down. Jack watched in shock, torn between wanting to pull them apart and respect for his seniors. 

Leona pushed Ruggie face first into the dirt. Ruggie still snarled, letting out short breathed barks like an angry cackle. Leona hefted him up by the back of his shirt, biting down hard on the scruff of Ruggie’s neck. Ruggie immediately went limp, like a rag doll in the hands of a petulant child. Leona dropped him, standing over his still body and huffing hard. 

“You,” He hissed. “Don’t get to challenge me. You don’t get to tell me how I’m meant to react. You have no idea how I feel, about her or anything else.” 

Ruggie looked over his shoulder, glaring daggers, but said nothing. 

“I-” Jack started. His voice caught in his throat in a lump at the withering look Leona gave him. “I told the others you would be able to help. No one is doubting you’re a good leader,” His eyes cut to Ruggie on the floor, who scowled but said nothing. “We all know it. We also all know you care a lot more than you pretend to.  You’re clever, an amazing strategist, and you have abilities and resources none of us could dream of. Be honest with yourself. After everything that’s happened, after your Overblot, would you really be fine with (Y/N) disappearing?” 

“And do you really want Malleus scooping her up? You know he will.” Ruggie mumbled. 

Leona stalked around the glade, ears back and tail thrashing. He ground his teeth, fangs cutting into his lower lip. He roared, hand striking out, claws raking across a tree to leave deep gashes. He huffed, straightening and turning around. With little effort, he picked Ruggie up by the back of his vest and set him on his feet. 

He looked at the two of them, face set in determination. “Alright. (Y/N)’s not going anywhere.” 

~~~

The sky around the Diasomnia dorm cracked with green lightning. Students ran for cover, dodging torrents of hail, sleet, and needle-like rain. Dark clouds swirled around the spiky towers of the dorm, threatening to turn into tornados. 

Silver, Sebek, and Lilia trailed behind Malleus, futilely trying to catch up with his long strides. Lilia hopped up and quickly flew in front of the dragon prince.

“Now, just a moment, Malleus,” Lilia pleaded, hands up. 

Malleus evaporated in a cascade of green sparks, reappearing several feet behind Lilia, continuing his determined march without a pause in his step. Lilia sighed and rolled his eyes, catching back up with the two knights in training. 

“We don’t know for sure if she’s leaving,” Silver said, trying to act as a voice of reason. 

“What other conclusions would you draw from that?” Sebek snapped. “His majesty deserves to have every piece of available information to make the best decision for all involved.” 

“Which is why we need to slow down and think things through.” 

“Are you doubting Lord Malleus’s desition making skills in the time of crisis?” 

“She shall be kept in the highest room in the tallest tower deep in the heart of Briar Valley,” Malleus said, almost to himself.  “I’ll lock her in shackles of gold, give her a collar of diamonds and pearls, line her cage with velvet. No one shall take my child of man from my side, be it herself or any one else.” 

They looked at each other, quickening their step. 

Just as Malleus was reaching for the front door, ready to burst through to the mirror room, Lilia jumped in front of him, arms splayed wide. “Hold it!” He shouted. “Hold everything!” Malleus frowned, crossing his arms and glaring. Lilia put a hand to his chest, trying to catch his breath. “Honestly, I can’t keep up with you young ones anymore.” 

“I suggest you think carefully about what you say next, old man,” Malleus said coldly. 

“And I suggest you think carefully about the consequences of your actions, not to mention those around you. Really, do you think any of us want to see (Y/N) leave? Of course not. That’s why Sebek came to tell you in the first place. He trusts you enough to know you would be able to deftly handle the situation. And if you would stop to think for a moment, you would realize marching up to Ramshackle, spells blazing, would only create a rift between you and our dear Prefect, yes?” Malleus pressed his lips together, obviously still annoyed at the interruption, but understanding Lilia’s perspective. “As the future ruler of the Briar Valley, you need to learn how to handle matters with finesse as well as brutality. You don’t want to show (Y/N) a darker side of yourself, right? She already thinks the world of you, we all know that, don’t we, boys?” Lilia motioned Silver and Sebek, who nodded. “Simply telling her what you want and expecting no resistance might, well, damage her option of you, however misguided she might be.” 

“She is misguided,” Malleus said. “And a wayward subject needs a firm hand to direct them.” 

“But (Y/N) isn’t a subject,” Silver interjected. He had to stop himself from physically taking a step back at the sudden heat of Malleus’s gaze. “At least, not yet. It’s like… Frogs. Remember, Father?” 

“Frogs? Oh, yes! How clever, Silver!” Lilia said, clapping his hands. “If you put a frog in a pot of water and slowly turn up the heat underneath it, the frog won’t realize the water is boiling until it’s too late.” 

“So, acclimation?” Malleus said. 

“Exactly!” Sebek said. “That was our original plan! We keep her here just long enough to convince her this is the best place to be. And, of course, who wouldn’t want to stay in your glorious presents, Lord Malleus?”  

Lightning continued to crackle across the sky, but the deluge had reduced to a mild thunderstorm. 

“I will not lose her.” 

“Of course not! None of us want to, we would never dream of it!” Lilia said. 

Malleus closed his eyes in thought for a moment before turning to Silver and Sebek. He called their names and they stood at attention. “I have a list of ingredients I need before this… meeting. I trust you will be able to procure them for me quickly.” He manifested paper and a quill pen from the air, the list writing itself midair before tearing in half and splitting between the two knights. They left with a salute. 

As they went to search, Lilia hummed, floating next to Malleus. “That is quite the potion you want to brew.” 

“Reassurance and reinforcement,” Malleus said. “In case someone wants to try and make things difficult for us. After all, dragons are naturally jealous creatures.” 

~~~

They congregated in the House Warden’s meeting room under cover of night. It was all cloak and dagger, literally in some cases. Tensions were high, the atmosphere in the room could have been cut with a knife. The House Warden’s took their seats around the round table, the others standing dutifully behind them. 

Everyone looked at each other with suspicion. Why should they have any say with what happened to (Y/N)? They weren’t as close to her, didn’t deserve her as much as the other party. They would only hurt her in the end. ‘No, our plan is the best,’ Each group thought. Although they had originally arranged to create one master plan with every dorm involved, the meeting quickly descended into shouting voices, a cacophony of accusations, declarations, and split tensions. 

The din only subsided briefly when the door to the meeting room was opened. Sebek and Silver both held one door open for Malleus to stride through, looking for all the world like the crown prince he was. Lilia floated behind him, giving a small wave as they entered. 

“Oh, dear,” Lilia said. “I hope we’re not too late.” 

“Not at all,” Riddle said through clenched teeth. “We were just discussing what we should do at the dinner tomorrow when (Y/M) makes her announcement.” 

“There is no discussion,” Azul said. “We need to make a move before that! I’ve drafted a contract that would-” 

“Again with your contracts,” Jamil interrupted. “And how exactly are you planning on getting her to sign it? She’s not as easy to trick as some more gullible people.” 

“Hey!” Ace shouted. “Don’t act so high and mighty! Everyone on campus knows that we’re her best friends!” “That’s right!” Deuce said. “We only brought you all in as a courtesy. We should be the ones who decide what happens next!” 

Arguments broke out again, everyone talking over each other, spells aching to be slung. 

Malleus took his seat and watched the growing chaos. He swept his eyes over the tables, taking in the faces of all involved. For a moment, he was touched. You had truly ingrained yourself in the lives of everyone present in such a short amount of time. They were all willing to do so much for you, risk everything, all for your benefit. And you didn’t even realize it. 

But, of course, his love was the purest of them all.  

Cooly, Malleus plucked a vial from his front pocket, setting it on the table without a word. He leaned back in his chair, waiting for their reactions. As the participants took note of the new object, talk dwindled to silence. The air went still as every eye focused on the small bottle Malleus set on the table. It was no bigger than three inches tall, frosted glass, with a ball shaped stopper. A light pink liquid sloshing around inside, seeming to swirl completely independent of any outside influence. It glowed slightly, casting their astonished faces in a sickly sweet light. 

“A love potion?” Vil said breathlessly. 

“That is… highly illegal,” Riddle said. 

“I’m sorry,” Malleus said. “I thought we were looking for solutions.” 

“And besides,” Lilia added cooly. “Isn’t everything we’re discussing now highly illegal?” 

“Can you even call it illegal for a person who doesn't legally exist?” Jade thought out loud. 

“Hang on,” Leona said, standing. “A love potion would only work on the first person she sees after she drinks it. What are you trying to plan here, lizard?” 

Malleus looked down at Leona. “It would be best if she were to be with the one who is able to take the best care of her. Unless you’re suggesting you could do better?” 

“I think,” Vil interjected before Leona had a chance to start another fight. “What Leona is saying is that we all care deeply about (Y/N). That’s why we’re all here, isn’t it? And if she were to be, let’s say, connected to only one person, it might defeat the whole purpose of us coming together to find a solution to our mutual problem.” 

“If it’s the first person she sees,” Kalim said. “Well, we’ll all be together for dinner anyway, right? Is there a way we can have her see us all at the same time?” 

“If Prefect (Y/N) is standing at the head of the table,” Ortho said, holding his hands out to visualize the situation. “Then it is possible to have multiple people in her field of vision at the same time.” 

“Hang on,” Trey said. “I know we’re talking about essentially  kidnapping here, but isn’t a love potion a little extreme?” 

“Maybe we could consider that a last resort?” Idia said. “Especially since we’re already planning on trying to convince her to stay in other ways.” 

Malleus plucked up the vial and tucked it back into his pocket. “If that is the general consensus, I’ll agree for now.” 

“For now,” Leona echoes with a glare. Malleus smiled pleasantly at him. 

The introduction of the ultimate ultimatum seemed to cool tensions in the group. Eventually, a tentative agreement was reached. Of course, whether or not everyone would actually follow that agreement day of was up for debate. The factions retreated to their dorms, waiting for the next day with both trepidation and anxiety-riddled anticipation. 

~~~ 

(Y/N) felt like something was off. On the surface, everything was normal. Well, as normal as it could be for this particular group of magic students. Everyone seemed to be chatting pleasantly enough, sitting around a long table (Y/N) and Grim had pulled into the Ramshackle guestroom. But, the more she paid attention, the more stiff everyone came across. She felt like everyone was watching her, that there would be a group pause whenever she spoke. It made goosebumps spring up on her arms. 

She supposed it might have been a general reaction to her sudden invitation and the announcement she had said she wanted to make. She thought she should have found out a better way to tell everyone at once, maybe something that would have caused less stress. She had hoped that having good food and good company would make this less stressful, for her and them. But, possibly aside from Ruggie and Grim both scarfing down whatever they would get their hands on, almost everyone else seemed to be picking at their food. 

‘Well,’ She thought. ‘No time like the present.’ She stood, shivering a little when everyone’s head snapped in her direction. Even if she already had their attention, she still cleared her throat to prepare for her announcement. “Hello! First, I want to thank you all for coming! I know everyone values their day off, so I appreciate you all taking the time to come see me.I also wanted to say how much you all mean to me. I came here with nothing, no idea how I got here, no magic, obviously. And I’ll admit there have been some really intense and scary moments, but I’ve been able to get through everything thanks to all of you. And I wouldn’t want to be stuck here with anybody else. I’m so happy I got to meet you all.” At this, her voice cracked a little, eyes going misty. Grim jumped into her arms and she pulled him close in a tight hug. “Right, anyway, sorry, I’m getting sentimental. So, as I’m sure you all know, Crowley has been looking for a way for me to go back to my world since I came here. And the other day, well, I told him to stop. I’ve decided I’m going to stay here, in Twisted Wonderland. I know it will be hard, and to be honest, I’m not really sure how a lot of it will work out. But there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” 

All was silent, a spring coiled ready to snap. Then, Cater burst into tears. 

“Cater?” (Y/N) asked, worried. She rushed over to him and he slung his arms around her, pulling her in for a hug. 

“I-I thought-thought that you-” Cater tried to say through sobs. “I’m so happy!” 

And with that, the room relaxed. A collective breath was released as everyone finally seemed to come back to themselves. 

With the tension finally broken, (Y/N) felt her shoulders relax. She wasn’t totally sure what reaction she was going to get, it definitely wasn’t what she was expecting from Cater. For the past few days she felt a heavy miasma building over her, a sense of dread that kept building but she couldn’t find a source for. As she watched her friends chat, passing plates between each other, clinking glasses, she smiled. She should have known there wasn’t anything to worry about. After all, she had everyone here with her. She knew she could always trust them to have her back. 

After the party meandered to a close, (Y/N) made the rounds of saying goodnight to everyone as they got ready to leave. Although, as they might say in her world, it definitely felt like a ‘Minnesota long goodbye.’ Everyone was lingering, coming up with just one more thing to talk about, putting on coats only to take them off again, wondering out loud if she was really sure she didn’t need help cleaning up, and it was already dark out, would it maybe be easier if they just stayed the night? People seemed to linger tonight, an extra touch on her shoulder, a hug just a second longer than usual, a turn on phrase that hid something (Y/N) couldn’t see. But, considering the tense atmosphere at the beginning of their dinner, she tallied it up to whatever strange mood had taken her friends. 

(Y/N) puffed out a breath as Ace unexpectedly crashed into her back, throwing his arms around her to pull into a backward hug. “Geeze, (Y/N)” He whined without any real heat. “You sure know how to make something dramatic, huh? Got us worried something bad was happening for a while.” 

“Don’t be mean,” Deuce said. He smiled. “Seriously, we’re really glad you’re deciding to stay, though. You’ll let me know if you need any help, yeah?” 

“You’ll let us know,” Ace clarified. (Y/N) missed the glare that passed between them. “Speaking of, next time you - Ack!” Ace was cut off with a heart-shaped collar suddenly appearing around his neck, Deuce sporting a matching one, his eyes downcast and lip wobbling. 

“You’ll have to excuse us, (Y/N),” Riddle said, tugging at Ace’s collar. “These two are late for a lecture on causing unnecessary panic.” With Trey comforting a still misty-eyed Cater and Riddle dragging away the other two first years who waved goodbye with resigned compliance, they departed into the night. 

“Thanks for having us,” Jack said. Ruggie’s arms were piled high with plenty of Tupperware loaded with leftovers. Leona stood behind, trying to look disinterested, but keeping a sharp eye on anyone who tried to get too close to their conversation. 

“Of course! I’m glad you guys could come. I was just thinking - Oh, Ruggie!” (Y/N) gasped, reaching out for the red circular mark on the back of Ruggie’s neck. “Are you okay?” 

Ruggie’s hand shot up, covering what suspiciously looked like a bite mark. From over her shoulder, Leona shot him a glare that could turn a man to stone. 

“Oh, yeah, fine!” Ruggie said quickly. “Yeah, just-”

“Just doing something stupid,” Leona cut in. “That won’t be a problem in the future, right?” 

Ruggie’s ears went flat as he narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, you got it, House Warden.” 

(Y/N) opened her mouth to ask if everything was alright between them when Jack cut her off. “We’ll see you tomorrow, (Y/N). If you have any trouble now that you’ve decided to stay, you can always come to Savannahclaw first.” 

(Y/N) blinked at the sudden stoniness of Jack’s voice. “I’ll… Keep that in mind. Thanks, Jack.” 

As she waved them off she felt a familiar prickle at the back of her neck. With half a second to spare, she quickly sidestepped, dodging Floyd’s incoming hug. He stumbled a little bit, turning to glare, but the effect was ruined by the wide cheerful smile on his face. 

“Shrimpy~” He said in a singsong voice. “You’re not trying to escape me again, are you?” 

“Again?” She said. “What-” 

“What my brother means to say,” Jade said. “Is that we’re very happy we’ll continue to be blessed with your presents.” 

“Sure,” (Y/N) said. “I’m happy, too.” 

“And of course,” Azul continued smoothly. “If you happen to have any difficulties settling in, we would be more than happy to assist you. Why, I’d even be so inclined to offer our services at a discount! For old times sake.” 

“Or,” Jade said, slinging his arm around her shoulder. “You could just move to the bottom of the sea with us.” 

“You would get used to the cold,” Floyd said, wrapping his arm around her other shoulder. “We could just squeeze you real tight to keep you warm.” 

“Thanks for the offer, guys,” She said, shrugging out of their constricting embrace. 

“If you want to stay somewhere warm,” Kalim interrupted, grasping her arm and pulling her into him. “Why won’t you come to Silk City? I bet my family would love to meet you! Right, Jamil?” 

Jamil had an unfocused, faraway look in his eye, only snapping back when Kalim said his name. He moved to put himself between them and the Octavinelle trio. “Right,” He said. He tilted his head down, hair falling in a curtain to separate them from the rest of the room, Kalim’s hug tightened as his smile sharpened. Jamil met (Y/N)’s eyes. “(Y/N), look at me for a second. I-”

“(Y/N)!” She was yanked out of Kalim’s tightening constrictor hug into an equally smothering embrace, heady with the scent of lilac and apples. “There you are! I’m so happy to see you!” Epel continued. He was using that formal voice, pitched higher to emphasize his naturally cute appearance that Vil had been training him in. 

“Oui, mon trickster! We couldn’t bear to leave without complimenting what a wonderful party you put together!” Rook continued, snatching her out of Epel’s arms into his own.  (Y/N) was starting to get dizzy from being thrown in between people so much. As Rook took her full attention, Epel sneered at the Scarabia duo, sticking out his tongue before melting back into the perfect picture of polite sweetness. 

Vil interrupted (Y/N) getting smothered with a gentle but definitive touch on her shoulder. “I can’t tell you how pleased your decision makes me, (Y/N),” He said. (Y/N) sometimes forgot that outside of NRC, Vil was ranked as one of the most beautiful people in the world, a five-star actor and model. At this moment, with him looking down at her with every ounce of that carefully cultivated deminor, it took her breath away. She would have done almost anything he asked of her at that moment. Which was exactly what he was banking on. 

“I’d love for you to consider spending the summer in the Shaftlands with me. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to be all alone here on campus, and I could use an assistant during filming.” 

“Or,” Epel said sharply. “You can come with me to Harveston! We could always use a couple extra hands in the orchards. And you know my grandma would love to see you again. You liked it there the last time, right? She’d be so disappointed if she didn’t get to see you.” 

“The Hunt family always love visitors!” Rook added. 

“Thanks, guys,” (Y/N) said, twisting out of their grasp. They snatched at the air where she was, fixing their faces back to pleasant smiles when she turned to face them. “I appreciate it. I’m not really sure what it’s going to be like when the school year is over, but I’ll let you know!” 

“If you’re talking about traveling,” Ortho said, taking her hand and pulling her over to Idia who was stabbing at his tablet, eyes darting as she came over. “You can come with us! The Isle of Woe is unlike anywhere in the world! And we’ve got a ton of cool tech that Idia’s been working on, right, Idia?” 

Idia stuttered to life, pressing the tablet to his chest to hide the screen (Were those images of the rooms around Ramshackle?). “What? Oh, yeah, sure! It’ll be better than the last time, probably. I could probably convince Mom and Dad to get you an internship.” 

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think I’m half as smart enough to know anything about all that stuff you guys work with. It’s all sci-fi as far as I can tell. But I wouldn’t mind visiting, if that’s okay! I’d love to be able to explore everything when we’re not worrying about Overblot Phantoms. Uh, sorry.” 

“You shouldn’t have to apologize for something that’s true,” Sebek said, stepping up, shoulders back, hands clasped tightly behind him. He and Idia exchanged knife-sharp looks, Idia’s hair sparking red at the edges. Ortho quickly swooped in, giving their goodbyes and pushing Idia away. 

Sebek’s eyes trailed them with military precision as Lilia swept in to distract (Y/N). “Oh, I can’t tell you how happy you’ve made me!” Lilia said, exaggeratedly sniffing and whipping an invisible tear from his eye. 

“We know it might be hard to adjust,” Silver said. “But we want you to know that we all care about you and we’re more than willing to help.” 

“And we do mean anything,” Lilia said. “You should definitely come to us first, okay? No need to waste time on anyone else.” 

“‘Waste time’?” (Y/N) asked. 

“What Father means is,” Silver interjected. “We want you to know you can rely on us. With making sure a big change, there’s bound to be some uneven footing. You’ve proved you’re more than capable over and over again, but still…” His hand drifted out, trailing along her sleeve, before catching himself and snatching it back, gripping the hilt of his magical baton tightly. 

“We should go,” Sebek said. He looked sternly at (Y/N). “Don’t do anything stupid, human.” 

“I try every day.” 

~~~

The night air was warm as (Y/N) stood on the front steps of the old house, waving goodbye as her guests departed for the night. As much as she loved to see them, she admitted to herself that it was kind of nice to finally have Ramshackle to herself for the night. Well, herself plus Grim and the ghosts, but whatever. Malleus stepped out next to her. He nodded at his dorm mates, giving them a look that (Y/N) missed. 

(Y/N) stepped back inside, starting to pick up plates and leftovers. Malleus stood in the doorway, horns brushing the top of the doorframe, unmoving except for his eyes which tracked her. 

“I’m glad you came,” She said, stacking plates. “I mean, I knew you would, but I’m still happy.” 

“Of course,” Malleus said, fully stepping into the room. “I would come whenever you call.” 

“Sap,” (Y/N) teased. She paused, plates clinking against each other. “I’m glad I’m staying. And I’m glad everyone is so willing to help. I mean, I know we’ve all been through a lot together here, but this is a lot all at once. It’s kind of scary, you know? There’s so much basic information about this world that I still don’t know. I mean, I’ve been pretty lucky that I’ve been able to visit so many places like going to everyone’s hometown and everything. But it feels like everyday I learn something totally new that rearranges my whole perception of the world, and everyone else just treats it like normal. I…” She trailed off. “You know Rollo and I have kept in touch? He asked if I would come visit during spring break. Fluer City is supposed to be beautiful that time of year, but I think it’s probably beautiful any time of year. He’s tried to convince me to transfer to Nobel Bell College a couple of times, but I told him I like it here too much. But Professor Crewel said he might be able to get me an internship at a fashion house there, did you know he used to be a designer? Anyway, it’s something that doesn't need magic, so it could be a good fit. And now everyone is offering me a place to stay after graduation. Hey, maybe I’ll do a full Twisted Wonderland tour! I’ll have to start figuring out where I’ll be after school anyway, right? A degree from Night Raven College might be prestigious, but not having any magic can only get me so far, you know? I’ll need to take whatever opportunity I can get.” 

Malleus froze, turning her words over in his head. He stepped forward. “You work so hard, dear Child of Man,” He said. He placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Please, sit, you deserve a moment of respite. Here, drink this.” A mug of some steaming and sweet smelling drink appeared in Malleus’s hands. He pressed it into hers, insistent. 

“Oh, thanks, Hornton,” She said, taking a long sip, not noticing the slight pink sheen of the steaming liquid.

[foone]

Think about the experience of time as a robot girl, through the metaphor of how we use laptops.

You wake up for the first time with your young master, a college present. You're with them every day, powering off each night to charge. Being powered off is just dreamless sleep: a discontinuity. Every morning you wake up, your click syncs, and you know it's the next day. Maybe you miss a day or two: your master went out partying and ended up sleeping on a couch, until they rushedly wake you up before Monday classes begin. You even missed a whole week once when they went on a hiking trip with a new boyfriend.

You help them research upgrades when your specs get outdated. You place the order and a couple days later they power you off, and you wake up feeling like your head got bigger, on the inside. You can think of more things at once.

They repair you. They swap a new hand in when you accidentally crush it in a door, but when your left leg's servos go out, they send you to a repair shop. They power you off as you look up at them, and you wake up hours later. A strange man tells you to extend your left leg, then contract it. He frowns and re-oils some inner mechanism. You do it again, quieter and smoother this time. He nods, and reaches for your switch. The last thing you see before powering down is your own chest cavity with a series of wires hooked into your diagnostic ports, and your missing right leg sitting on a side table. You wake up again back at the dorms, your clock jumping forward a day, an asset tag still looped around your neck. Your master is happy to see you again.

This goes on, but the upgrades slow. There's only so much you can do to keep an old unit working. Eventually you develop more issues: one of your ocular sensors glitches and they don't make that model anymore, so your master just disables it. You spend a while searching ebay for replacement CND batteries and finally get a refurbished model from South England, but it turns out the EU models run on a different frequency, so it won't work. You're limited to fewer and fewer hours a day, and you start skipping more days.

The last time you remember waking up with your master there, there's also someone else in the room. Another robot girl. A newer model, with the new chassis and the Substrate energy packs. They asks you to copy your memories together onto a memory card, and you do. You want to say goodbye, but apparently your vocal synthesizer has been unplugged. You hand them the card, and they hand it to the new robot. Your master tells them to load the memories into her core bank, and she's says "yes sir!" in your voice. Ahh. That's where your voice synth went.

They power you off, and you don't dream.

You wake in a strange place. You're on a shelf, and there's other things scattered around you. An unknown voice days "yep, it seems it powers on. 400 credits, though? Without a voice and only one working eye? Man, value bin doesn't know how to price anything!" and before the blackness falls your clock finishes synching: it's been 7 months since you last were awake.

It happens a few more times. Different voices, different times, different piles of junk piled around and sometimes on you.

You awake again in a warehouse and someone tells you to smile. Your other ocular sensor went out so you can't really see them, just their vague shape from the lidar. The freestanding shelves around you seem to stretch into infinity. You hear a bitcrushed shutter sound sample a few times, and they pull a connector out of your chest as a diagnostic completes. It's been three years, five months, eight days, two hours, 27 minutes and 14 seconds since you last saw your master. Your GPS says you're a few cities over. They hit your power switch, and you sleep.

You wake up in a cluttered room, sitting on a bench. You look into the eyes of a person with frizzled hair and large glasses. She couldn't look happier. Your new ocular sensors are mismatched in color but you're happy to see again, in more than shapes and distant silhouettes. Your battery alerts as... Missing? You spot it on the desk next to a soldering iron and some electronic tool you can't identify.

Your voice synth is still missing, but this new woman is digging around in a large plastic bin, and comes up with one. She goes to insert it, and it can't connect. She slaps her hand and goes rooting around another bin and comes back with an adapter. She slots it into your chest and your voice returns. You thank her, and there's that moment of dissociation as your voice doesn't sound like "you". Too deep, and the accent is for a different dialect entirely. But you can talk again. She tells you to call her Cara, not Mistress. She's almost got your battery working again, she had to rebuild it nearly from scratch, but she's excited to get you working again. You're a rare model, and she doesn't see units like you in working order very often. Your clock syncs. It's been 17 years.

Your mistr-- Cara is soldering next to you, attaching a controller to the battery. She says she's got a new set of servos on the way, and she's excited to get you back to full working condition. You smile, knowing what it is to be loved, once again.

[gremlingottoosilly]

The Art of Hospitality (yan!Nanami x fem!Reader)

Nanami comes home to his favorite roommate. He is hurt and tired...but he knows who will instantly make him feel better. Tags and CW: Yandere, mild dub-con, non-consensual masturbation, Nanami is a panty stealer, light age difference, power imbalance, housewife kink, groping, praise kink AO3

You accidentally took his shirt from the laundry. Nanami thinks it’s an accident – he isn’t sure that you’re dumb enough to genuinely not realize that you were wearing a man’s clothes for a while already, but he doesn’t think you’re brave enough to flirt with him like this either. You’re stuck between being dumb and being too abrasive in your act – and honestly, Kento can deal with the dumb ones. Always a pleasure to spend some time with a person who knows when to shut up. 

You look simply divine like this – tugging a shirt that is too big for you in your tiny shorts, carefully rolling the sleeves up so they won’t get splashed while you are doing the dishes. Nanami never asked you to pull up with so many domestic responsibilities – but it was expected. He already allows you to live here without paying rent, so…only natural you’d be his housewife in everything besides affection. He knows how careful he must be – you’re innocent, as some college dropout can be, and you don’t really think of him like that. At least, he thinks you aren’t – he is sure that were you a bit braver, you’d already sleep in his bed instead of a tiny guest bedroom. If you’d wear his shirt on any other day of the week, he would simply note this in his head and proceed with his day. Maybe stare a bit, imagining your curves hidden by the baggy fabric, catching glimpses of skin whenever you roll it up a bit too high. If it was on any other day, he’d just smile and proceed to go to his study.

But you had to pull his shirt out of the laundry on the exact day when he dragged his body home from a particularly nasty fight with a curse. The thing was defeated – something about fear of bug larvae, the sound it made while being dissected by his knife was something that Nanami wouldn’t forget for a long time, even with an ample amount of alcohol. You just had to be cute and adorable and domestic and wear his clothes on a day when he wanted it most. Where all of his desires of retirement amplified, pushing for a fantasy that was just out of reach. 

Until he saw you cleaning the dishes with the tenacity of a proper housewife. Nanami knew he had to keep himself in check – knew how much he’d scare you with this. Still, at that moment, he wanted nothing more but to push you on that kitchen counter, roll his shirt even higher on your body, and use you like a proper domestic wifey you are. 

— You did the laundry? 

He slips right behind you, hands on your waist. It’s a gesture that cannot be mistaken for anything other than affection – and you get stiff immediately, not sure of what to do. He hopes you’d be a smart girl and won’t defy him. He doesn’t have patience for brats right now – no matter how adorable they might look. You take a deep breath and release it, relaxing in his hold. He squints, a ghost of a smile appears on his lips. What a boedient thing you are. 

— I did the dark ones, yes. I wanted to do the whites as well, but there wasn’t enough, so… You trail off, your hands shaking just a little bit. Nanami notices and leans on you a bit, pressing you against his chest. Your breath hitches again, panic evident in your body. He wants you to relax – and so he slips one of his hands across your waist, pressing you even closer to him. You have to get used to the heat of his body eventually. Nanami isn’t known for charity work and you’d have to pay him back one way or another – and currently, you only have one way of achieving this. 

Nanami pressed his hand more firmly against your waist, squishing you between his body and the counter. You are forced to relax into his touch – with no way of getting out, it’s only obvious why you’d be this scared. Poor, dumb girl. No idea what is coming to her. — You washed my things as well? You put the dishes on the drying stand, wiping your hands with the nearest towel. There is a certain clumsiness in your actions – like you were trying to remember how to act properly on the go. Like you tried your hardest to be a perfect housekeeper without looking too desperate. Although he likes that air of eagerness around you. 

— I wanted to do something for you, sir. While I can’t get a proper job. The little snag didn’t go unnoticed. Every time you try to convince him that you finally got some part-time position, something minimal wage and extra working hours, he will always say that working like this would be useless – that you need a real job if you truly want to build up your experience. After some time, you stopped even looking for openings, instead marinading yourself in your meager savings and looking after the house. Sometimes you wondered if he just wanted to get a free house worker – but then again, he let you live in this big house without paying rent or even groceries. The only reason you’re still here is because he is generous…and you don’t want to think about the reasons behind it.

Spending time around so many people with loud personalities, Nanami craved someone simple. Easy. Nice and quiet – and a girl who is too helpless to survive on her own is just that. Some people are not meant to survive on their own, and there is a certain dignity in relying solely on help from others. 

He caresses your hands – you don’t understand why is he suddenly so affectionate after spending months not even bothering to learn your last name, but then you notice the smell of blood. Scratches on his hands. Something that smelled like wet dirt and metal. 

You turn away, bumping your nose into his chest. Kento looks…disheveled. With his tie lost, a few buttons were torn off from his perfectly ironed – you ironed it just a few days ago – shirt that was now covered in soil and blood. He looks like he just got into a fight – with no indications of who was on the winning side. You weren’t sure where he worked exactly – something corporate, you think, some cushy position that allowed him to escape overtime and get home at 6 PM sharp every day. Corporate people usually don’t return home looking like something tried to chew on them. 

— N…nanami, what…what happened? He sighs, rubbing his forehead. It seems like your question somehow irritated him – you don’t want to be like this, don’t want him to hate you. Yet, it’s almost like your worry is making him insanely angry somehow. You bite your lips, face scrunched in a worried expression. You don’t want him to die – or even just get slightly more injured. 

— Got into an accident. There is nothing to worry about. 

You’re definitely not buying it. Kento likes seeing you gushing over him – but knowing how anxious his little roommate can be, you’re certainly not going to let it go so easily. And he has no intentions of showing you the secrets of the world of jujutsu right now. If ever. 

— You got run over?! — No. 

— A dog attacked you?! — No. 

— Oh. You were robbed..? He sighs, thinking of how he still hasn’t come up with an excuse. He should have – but the fight was hard already, and the energy he spent working overtime on that curse didn’t make anything better. He loves your worry and your kindness, but he can’t deal with it right now. Somehow, he has to divert your attention. Somehow, he has to take this comfort he wanted from you and your body. 

— You’re wearing my shirt. 

Your eyes widened, heat spreading across your face. He sees that he has successfully distracted you – your hands are coming to cover yourself immediately, tugging on the wrist of the shirt as if trying to see if he is right. Seems like you really didn’t notice you were wearing something that belonged to him. God, what a dumb thing you are. What did he do to deserve such a blessing? You take a step to the side, trying to escape the trap of his hands – but Nanami is not having it. With a grunt, he is forcing you in front of him again, making sure you’re set here, nice and comfortable. Trapped close to him – like he’d ever let go of someone as precious as you. He might be a lot of things – a workaholic, an extremely tired individual with love for useless and dumb sunshine girls, but he is not stupid. Letting you go now will only increase the gap between the two of you – and not even in a sense of age. 

— I’m…oh. I’m really sorry, sir, it must have been mixed in the laundry and… He snorts. The sound is weird, alien to someone like him – you look up, surprised he even bothered to listen to you. You really got him acting so weird…it’s almost an achievement. Somehow, you don’t feel like you won something. 

— You didn’t even notice it was too big? 

— I have some oversized clothes. — Something that your ex left you? 

You find yourself wordless at the accusation. It doesn’t sound too weird at first – but the harshness in his voice is making you shiver. His hands are on your waist again, holding you in a gesture that can’t be platonic – and this is the first time he paid so much attention to you. You feel uncomfortable. You feel desired, somehow. Nanami smells of blood and you find yourself aroused at it. Are you really that weird of a person? Fighting the urge to press your nose in his shoulder and breathe in his musk, mixed with blood, sweat, and that wonderful perfume he is using? The scent of which was traveling with you the whole morning ever since you took the shirt out of the laundry. Did you truly not know it was his? Somehow, you aren’t so sure now. 

— I…I guess I just wasn’t paying attention. I’m sorry, sir, I will…

You insist on calling him “sir” despite your age gap being not that terrible. He couldn’t be your father – yet he has this aura about him that makes you a bit afraid. Just a little nervous whenever he raises his voice or hums disarmingly. You don’t want to disappoint him, anxiety filling every bit of your existence when you think about this – he is doing so much, he has serious work and all you do is gush over housework and trying to play a role you were not made for. Never thinking how hard being a housewife might be. 

— You’re going to just take off it now? 

You freeze in place, not sure of how to answer. Nanami chuckles. You don’t want him so close to you, touching you like you’re in love – but he is hurt, stressed and covered in blood. He is  lonely man, you can understand this – who else would invite a girl to live with him because he spends so much time working outside of the house, he’d disappear for days on end and someone had to take care of the house? if he had a partner then, surely, you wouldn’t be here. It must be hard, for someone like him – but he seems so nice, so hardworking, despite the initial strictness…why is he single? 

You don’t feel comfortable with his chin resting on your shoulder, but you’re forcing yourself to relax. He had such a hard day, and he is still hurt. You might as well indulge him a little. 

— I don’t think it would be polite.

— Why not?

His hands slowly unbutton the lowest part of the shirt, the one that is hanging way below your stomach. He is not revealing any skin – but the feeling of his calloused fingers even through the fabric is a bit much to handle. 

— I’m a guest at this house. Wouldn’t want to embarrass the owner, right? His hand goes to grasp a few more buttons, making you stiffen. You don’t…don’t particularly want his hands in that area – almost under your chest, with a single brush of fingers enough to make you feel hot. Throbbing. Enough to make you question everything you know about him and…other things. You want to be a good guest, to not overstay your welcome – but it seems like the lines are getting more and more blurry each time. — I wouldn’t mind seeing you without it. — I’m really sorry I took it without asking you…

— You can get punished for it later. But…

Nanami presses his mouth on your neck, inhaling your scent. You smell like him – his cologne, his shower gel, the fabric softener he uses for his shirts, all the expensive things he knows you don’t have money for. You’re relying on his kindness and, well, he can be kind…if you’re willing to be good to him, of course. Good, obedient, and pretty girls deserve their rewards, after all. He has the perfect idea for just the one right now. You whimper when you feel his lips on your skin, when he nibbles on the sweet spot at the back of your neck. It can’t be mistaken for normal affection now – not with the way he keeps unbuttoning your shirt until there is barely enough to cover your breasts. His hand lays on your stomach, warmness spreading across the skin…there isn’t a lot you can do now. Your thoughts are mixed now, not sure of what to do to make him stop or to let him keep going. — Nana…no, Kento, I’m not really sure about… — Quiet, sweetheart. Just a few more minutes, okay? 

You sigh, allowing him to just…touch you. Get sated with the feeling of your body in his arms – you don’t know how much time had passed, but he just rubs soothing circles into your stomach and breathes, occasionally peppering your neck with kisses. 

You want him to go further. 

You want him to stop. Maybe, it was just a few more minutes. Maybe, he took his time – you on;y woke up from that hazy, dream-like state when he suddenly yanked the rest of your shirt off, revealing your braless chest to the cold air of the house. You wanted to cover yourself – but your slow motions didn’t do you enough justice, as he easily grabbed your wrist in one of his hands. 

He kisses you again, and you move your head to the side to meet his lips. You don’t know what you want – you want to help him, to make his worries go away, but he is still smelling of blood and rust and you’d like to draw him a bath first. Maybe take care of him there. Maybe grab your things and run even though it would mean you’d be homeless. You can feel his erection pressing to the curve of your ass and you move involuntarily, sliding up and down – maybe in an attempt to escape, maybe in an attempt to allure. You want for him to say something, to command you to do something – be more forceful, be more kind, make everything better, and then do it much, much worse. You sigh, trying to just…

The phone is ringing. 

You manage to read the name. You wonder who the hell is Gojo Satoru. — I apologize for this. – Nanami whispers in your ear, getting away from you. Still keeping a hand on your waist, holding you down as firmly as possible. Not that you have any strength left in your legs to go anywhere. You’re waiting for Nanami to finish the call. Something is telling you that he just found a way to make you pay for staying with him for so long.

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Rigor Mortis (part 4)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 3, Part 5

summary: You get your laptop fixed... eventually.

warnings: smut!! (finally lmfao) masturbation, mutual masturbation, tiny bit of voyeurism, recreational drug use, dry humping, etc 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: caught up to where the og oneshot ends so i wanted to switch it up!!

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 6.8k (still in shock i wrote all this lmfao, i'm strictly a <4k words kinda gal)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

lips black and blue and gold.

You're frustrated. Bouncing off the walls, head spinning; and it's for a couple of reasons. 

First off: you haven't managed to find a laptop. Money you've worked damn hard for, and you can't really afford a new one. With moving around, you've burnt through quite a bit of your emergency fund. Enough to convince yourself you'll be just fine with a pen and paper in class, and the Google docs on your phone when desperate. It might actually force you to go to the library instead of half assing assignments the night before, you think. 

And there's your lab book, which you were smart enough to back up on your computer, but guess what? That's fucked; probably taken apart and sold for scraps by Miguel's mysterious friend , who you've conveniently never even heard of and–

"Just ask for an extension." He says, feet up on the sofa. Oddly enough, you've been doing that more often; spending time together. He's not holed up in his room as much, and spends time studying on the dining table, or pretending not to watch the soaps you've got on TV. 

"You're overthinking it. Explain the situation, chula, and it'll be fine." He doesn't even look up, just throws the statement in your direction like the lazy pass of a ball. 

You scoff, because he's right, and go back to overthinking. You think you can copy out the ruined half of your labbook by hand, and if you beg your OChem teacher for an extra credit project then–

"If I let you use my laptop, will you stop doing that?" 

"Doing what?" You frown as he walks over, and reaches to gently pull your hands apart. He turns your palms over, pointing at the raw edges of your fingernails. 

" That. " Mindlessly, you'd been picking at your fingernails, without even noticing. Looking up at him, he rolls his eyes. 

"...is that a yes?" You nod, hesitant, and catch the hint of a smile as he pads off to his room. 

When he returns, open laptop in hand, he thrusts it into your arms - and sits himself back onto the sofa. This time, he splays out facing you, avocado socks resting on your knee. You fight the urge to push him off, a small price to pay in return for his moment of kindness. He's been doing that more often now, slightly more touchy and maybe even… comfortable around you. Eyes flickering up towards him, you catch his. His brows knead together, and you return your attention to the screen just as quickly. 

You're going through the motions, more or less, logging into your college's portal and drafting up quick emails to send to your lecturers. But it's when you open up a new tab, that you see something at the top of the screen and pause. Mouse hovering over an incognito tab, hidden in a nest of referencing websites and scientific journals; it's there. Bold letters, in all caps: WOMAN POUNDED BY BIG BEEFY–

You shouldn't. You really, really shouldn't. Once again, you look up at Miguel, and he couldn't care less; tapping away at his phone, only stopping to look at the TV. Nevertheless, you shift to hide the laptop screen from him. But you're not going to look, or anything. You know better than to take a look at your roommates porn habits, the stuff he drools over whilst he fucks his fist; a big, dextrous palm wrapped around his shaft. 

You've done it. Clicked on the tab and nothing's exploded, as of yet. You turn down the brightness, with some shame, as if to make the paused video less explicit. But the image stays, a woman folded under the weight of the man above – in the middle of bullying his fat cock into her pussy. It's amateur; hot and sweaty and sticky, with only the woman fully visible. You suppose your curiosity's been sated, but you can't help but think…

…the woman. She looks like you. 

Tilting your head, you can't help but see the resemblance. Not the exact same of course - but her hair is similar, body type, skin tone, eyes. It's not close enough to be weird, you guess, but it's enough that that thought stays - burrows into you like an earthworm into an apple. Scrolling down, you see other videos, with the same woman, other women that look like you - the telltale red bar of watched videos. Evidence, but not really, and it makes you heat up. Your mouth goes dry, and you look over to him: only able to concentrate on the hand he's got spread out at his belly, the brown flesh peeking out - and how it looks just like the one on the base of the woman's stomach in the video. 

"...everything ok?" He's looking at you, suddenly; and you attempt to click over to your original tab, discreetly. 

He doesn't seem to notice, padding over to your side and leaning into your shoulder. 

"Yeah, no, I just…" All you can manage is a nervous smile. "The screen froze, so…"

"Oh." He gives the track pad a swipe. "Seems fine to m–" 

He freezes up slightly, and you watch as his eyes flick up the screen. The laptop is eased out of your hands, and he gives a few quick clicks. By the time it's back in your lap, the offending tab is gone. Imperceptible, his jaw shifts. 

"...Should be okay now."

You hum, a little amused at the display. He's seemingly unfazed, his little slip up notwithstanding, and leans back to lie up against you. Obnoxious, he splays onto the sofa cushions, his weight practically smothering you as you fight to push him off. You think he likes it – it's the only possible explanation – and gets off from watching you squirm. He seems desperate for a reaction, a child pushing boundaries and pressing buttons to see what exactly makes you tick. 

And that's the second thing: it works . He's  more touchy, and just as insufferable – jumping at any excuse to be near you, it seems. Miguel has a tendency to hover, follow you around the apartment as you talk aimlessly, and you do the same. You sit by against the doorway to the kitchen whilst he makes dinner; he floats around the door to your room when you try to study. In fact, you've spoken to your roommate more in the past week than you have in the past month; about anything and everything. Sometimes, he actually tells you where he goes during the day; off to lectures of his own, another tutoring session or his basically-an-unpaid-job of an internship. In your words, it seems like with the shit they make him do at Alchemex, he may as well be a full employee: with way fewer perks and a distinct paycut. It's almost as if they're paying for my degree, he says with an eye roll, practically hanging off your door frame. 

He does that a lot, now: arms drawn upwards to lean from the oak trim. Especially during lazy mornings in - he'll hang on the frame, and move to tug at your heel, waking you up despite fervent protest. Ultimately, it's a kindness and you don't know how to tell him how much you appreciate it; as he wakes you up on time to get to the library in good stead. You're still waiting on that laptop, debating whether or not to bite the bullet; but for now Miguel obliges, letting you borrow his now and then. 

He's not nice, you think his tongue is much too sharp for that; but he is kind, giving you some grace you're not too sure you deserve. It's more than what you've been given in a relationship of 4 years, and you don't know how to feel about it. 

Well, you do. Your talk on the living room floor not so long ago flipped a switch and all of a sudden you're paying attention to your roommate; really, really looking at him. He is very, very pretty; with a tendency for lingering touches disguised as something else. And you're out of practice: horny, frustrated, stressed. With the way he touches you; a hand on your back to greet you, a squeeze of your shoulder to tease, bare legs across yours on the sofa; it's a lethal combo. 

And here you are, headphones on, prepping to take a dildo. Incredibly self-indulgent, but you need it . You don't quite have the emotional stability for a one night stand (you think if someone touches you just right, you'll fall in love), but this dry spell has taken its toll. 

It wasn't just after the break up, either. Mismatched libidos had felt like a steady death knoll. Realistically, you knew Jaime was always too tired after a placement, but it didn't make you feel wanted. You just want to be desirable and fucked within an inch of your life – was that too much to ask? 

As a result, your toy drawer had grown: vibrators and dildos, clit-suckers and g-spot strokers; crude once said aloud, but all in search of something. With the stress of school and Miguel, Schrodinger's slut ; it's a wonder you haven't cracked it open earlier. 

You're on the floor, its purple base suctioned to the hardwood and towels to cushion your knees. Lower half completely exposed, it's an art , porn on your phone to complete the visage. The screen is smaller than that of the laptop you're used to, only providing some stimulation. And so, as you sink down on its silicone length, you can't help but think back to the sofa - and the videos squirrelled away on an incognito tab. Miguel, hunched over and fisting his cock to someone that looks like you; maybe even thinking of you – although the jury's still out, on that one. 

But you keep it close to your chest, rub your clit to the thought of it: you're his type, and maybe he'd fuck into you like the man on your screen. Broad, gorgeous shoulders and you wonder how pretty he'd look with scratches littered down his back, or hickeys sucked into skin: lips plump and messy and swollen. 

"Oh, fuck," You say it under your breath, knowing that whilst Miguel is out of the house, it still feels odd to put your lips around the pleasure that thinking of him gives. 

You speed up, the slap of thighs ringing out into your bedroom. The dildo is around 6 inches, sizeable; but you can't help but wonder how it compares to Miguel's. He might even be bigger; thicker, most definitely; and you bet his cock is just as pretty as he is. Oh fuck, and he'd tease; press into your hole just to snatch it away at the last second, rubbing persistent circles at your clit. You hear his voice in your head, the low grunts and groans you've memorised from all those nights he's spent with other girls. 

"Miguel,"  You're moaning shamelessly now. "...f-fuck, please–" 

There must be something electric in the way he fucks: with the litany of girls in and out of his bedroom, what keeps them coming back? He must talk them through it, whispering filth with his plush lips against their ear, and you wonder what he'd say to you. God , you'd give anything to hear it him say, just once, how beautiful he thinks you are; for him to wrap his hand around your neck and pull you close. You want him to fuck you; hard and deep and desperate. 

With that, your pace quickens and you gush around the toy. A spasm of limbs, and you're clamping down on the silicone – an orgasm that leaves you breathless and heaving. You convince yourself it's the taboo of it: fucking yourself to the thought of your roommate, after listening to his grunts and groans for the past couple weeks. He started it … thin walls, and all that. 

You ignore the want that lays stubborn at the pit of your stomach, riding through stuttering spasms as your orgasm winds down. You're touch starved, that's all, and Miguel's the closest warm body to latch onto. Nothing more, nothing less. Groaning, you shift, picking up your hips to gear up for another round. Just once more, so you know for sure. 

Thin walls. The sound leaks into your roommate's bedroom. But with your headphones on, you can't hear the sounds that echo back: Miguel O'Hara, back home early, with an ear pressed to the wall and desperately pumping his cock. 

~~~

"I'm not completely convinced, to be honest." You're in Miguel's car, tongue sticking out as you fiddle around with the dials. 

His gaze flicks over, and bats your paws off the dashboard. Flopping into your seat, you watch as he turns up the AC and switches the radio, as if reading your mind. 

"You really think I'd go through all this trouble?" He scoffs. "Bundle your ass out of the house and drive all the way here to…. do what exactly?" 

"Assert dominance in our shared ecosystem." You say it with finality, and he scrunches up his face in confusion. 

"...what does that even mean?" 

"Like in that nature doc you were watching the other day." 

"Well, the point was that spiders aren't hierarchical in the traditional sense. They form colonies that are… quasi-social, if anything, and–" He pauses. "Wait. You were paying attention?" 

You shrug. "I thought it was interesting." 

"Seriously?" 

"...no, not really."

You laugh as he pulls over to park, in a space next to what looks like an apartment complex. It looks way nicer than your place, with sandy brick and hedges that look well kept. Your laughter peters off. Miguel looks decidedly not amused. 

He opens the car door and clambers out as you scramble for the seatbelt. To your surprise, he opens the door for you; stretching out a hand for stability as you get out. When you both walk over to the intercom, your palm burns with his touch, and flexes with the memory of it. It's becoming a problem, his hands. You push down the beginnings of a hazy daydream. He presses a panel, waiting for the buzz. 

"Lyla? Could you let us up?" 

He waves demurely to the camera, and the receiver clicks. A cheery voice rings back. 

"...Us? Who's us, Miggy? Did you finally find a girl that puts up with your shit?" Her voice is singsong, teasing. With a smile, you watch as Miguel bristles, speaking into the slick panel. 

"My roommate, Jesus, Ly–" He says the next bit a little rushed, turning away slightly as if you still can't hear her loud and clear. "I thought we went through this, you can't keep trying to embarassmeeverytimeI–" 

She talks over him towards the end, rapid-fire banter that you can barely make out. 

"You never come and visit, except when it's 2am and you need to break into–" 

"Once! It was one time! Déjate, ya está bueno ya–" 

[Let it go, that's enough now–] 

"Let it go? No, no, absolutely not… what is it that you always say? It's the principle –" 

"Can you just fucking open the–" 

"What's the magic word?" 

He sighs, mouthing an apology to you. "Lyla–" 

"Magic. Word."

He mumbles. "Please." 

"Please what?" 

"Please could you open the fucking door."

There's a pause, and rustling over the intercom. The door buzzes open. 

In the elevator up, you keep quiet, trying your hardest not to burst out laughing. Miguel is visibly brooding; arms crossed and brow furrowed. 

"Don't." He says, with a pout you almost think is cute. Almost. 

"I'm trying really, really hard not to." You put your hands up, as if to surrender. "... Miggy."

"Fuck off." And then, a little softer. 

"...I told you I have friends."

~~~

You leave it at that until you're in Lyla'a apartment, when she opens and ushers you in. She looks exactly the way she sounds: pretty, mousy features, with her hair in short, choppy layers. She's bundled up into a plush white robe; heart-shaped sunglasses sliding down the tip of her nose. 

Miguel breezes past her, towards the murmuring voices you can just about make out in the front room. 

"Lovely to see you too, Miguel." It's under her breath, but when she turns towards you there's a twinkle in her eye. 

You introduce yourself, and she pulls you into a tight hug. 

"I know," She says. It's ominous, but her voice is light and airy. When you separate, she flashes a wide smile. "Lyla. It's nice to put a face to a name."

"Uhh, sorry. What?" She ushers you further into her apartment as you speak, confused. 

"Oh, Miggy talks about you all the time. Complaining , mostly, but in that way he gets when he's trying really, really hard to pretend he doesn't care. Like, he texted me yesterday and–" 

"Thaaat's enough." You feel hands on your shoulders, and all of a sudden, Miguel is steering you away from her grip. You stumble into her living room, so bright and airy your eyes have to adjust to the light that floods in. Looking around, her apartment is gorgeous; a spacious open plan, floor-to-ceiling windows with a prime view, and lush furniture. Everything about it screams expensive – especially in comparison to your paltry place. Maybe the shock is visible on your face, but you're in awe. She can't be much older than Miguel, right? She looks about the same age, mid-twenties, not too far-removed from college… and it isn't quite adding up. 

"How can she afford this? That's what you're thinking." There's a voice on the sofa that makes you blink. A young man with messy brown hair, a set jaw and 5 o'clock shadow calls out to you in between mouthfuls of pizza. "Lyla's… mmhgh… suuper fuckin' rich… mmfgh… that's how." 

It's then that you notice there are other people here, sprawled out on the sofa set; boxes of takeout on the side tables next to them. Of course Lyla's rich: only 20-somethings with money to spare have matching sofas. 

She's like Beetlejuice, or the Candyman, and pops up next to you when her name's said. 

"I work in tech! With a cute little job on Wall Street, and a part-time one white hat hacking." She clarifies. " Ethical hacking." 

She giggles like she's told a joke somewhere, and you nod – still not quite understanding. 

"...and some side gigs that aren't as ethical." A blond haired man next to Mouthful-Of-Pizza pipes up. "When are you going to introduce us, Miguel?" 

He's grumbling in the kitchen area, digging through the shelves for something. He returns with a bag of chips and dip in a container, flopping onto the zebra print throw pillows. Distracted, he waves a hand around the group noncommittally. 

"Uhh, Peter, Ben, Lyla." He gestures to you, saying your name, and then to himself; tearing open the bag at the same time. "-and Miguel. All done"

"My turn for questions, now," Miguel says, pointing at Lyla, looking at the boys to his side. "Is she…?"

"...super high? Most definitely." Lyla giggles at Ben's words, for good measure. 

"...right. Peter Parker, nice to meet you." He throws a thumb to the back of the sofa, where you notice a little mop of red curls peeking out. "And this is my little Mayday."

Peals of laughter erupt from behind him, and you notice grubby hands with a death grip to the cushion rest. Miguel leaps up, rushing to her side to help her up its back. 

"Ayyy dios mio." He scoops her up carefully, "Buenas, Arañita." 

Mayday is on his lap now, a little toddler of about 1 or 2, snaking herself around to hug Miguel's chest. She is certifiably the cutest thing you've ever seen: gap-toothed and giggly, with a smatter of freckles like someone's flicked a paintbrush across her nose. And with the way Miguel melts, you can die happy, knowing that you've seen the impossible: Miguel O'Hara, cooing and fussing over the little girl. 

"Arañita?" You ask, to no one in particular. 

"Itsy-bitsy spider." . ..is the sing-song, choral response from everyone but Miguel. They're mimicking his tone of voice, and he raises his head from May, looking around. 

"I don't sound- " 

"You do, dude." Peter sighs, tickling the little red head on the tummy; smiling as she collapses into bright laughter. "I don't have a nickname, and I've known you waaay longer than she has."

Miguel covers her tiny little ears, and says, "Eres un pendejo, Parker . "

[you're a dipshit, Parker] 

The scraggly man sticks his tongue out in response, and May pulls at his hair for good measure. He yelps, and Miguel passes her over to her Dad. The scene is funny, for sure, but you feel it's warmth more than anything. God, you can tell they've loved and laughed with each other for years; the kind of friendship you'd kill to have. 

"We just need whatever's left of her laptop, Lyla," He's blunt, batting away long forgotten chips and dip. "...and then we'll get going. Wish I could stay longer, Arañita, but I've got some work to finish off."

May makes grabby hands at him, and you melt. Who knows how Miguel can stay strong in the face of her big, round eyes. 

He gets up to stand next to you, arms crossed. The height difference is stark: his tall, solid frame towering over everyone else. It seems like an intimidation tactic, but you know him just well enough to tell: he's trying not to be swayed by puppy eyes and promises of food. 

"You just got here, Miggy." Lyla sighs. "We're going over prep for Jess', and we'll be two minutes, I swear."

"Oh?" His eyebrows light up. "I knew it! You were being evasive on the group chat, and Pete wasn't returning my calls…"

Huffing, he clasps his hand around yours, ready to storm out. "This is an ambush. A goddamn setup!" 

"Wait, Miguel, I need my-" 

"I'll pick it up later for you, okay?" It's said like an aside, so soft only you can hear it. With his hand around yours, it certainly feels more intimate than it should. And it seems like he realises a little too late, dropping your hand as your faces are mere inches away. 

"Um, we should… we should go." 

You look past him to the faces blinking at you guys, on the sofa. A pause, and then you're gulping down stubborn feelings to ask a question. 

"Jess' ? Is there a party, or something?" 

Lyla nods. "Yeah, and Miguel's meant to be picking up cake."

The man in question pinches his nose. "I can pick up the cake just fine. It's the whole… going to a party bit I'm not too keen on."

"Come onnn, you know Jess would love it."

"She'd love to blackmail me with some dumb shit I did drunk, that's for sure."

"It's her birthday, hardass ." Peter whispers that last bit, covering little May's ears like before. "She can have a little blackmail, as a treat."

"You're gonna say no to a surprise party ?" Ben echoes, shaking his head dramatically. 

"A surprise birthday?" You light up. "Miguel, you have to go."

His stony demeanor cracks, for a moment. You latch onto it, hellbent on wearing him down. He's always got his laptop out doing work, or cracking open a little notebook to prep a lab. When he's not at home, he's at that internship, or tutoring, or planning a tutoring session. Work, work, work; and you'll be dammed if you let him rot away in a little cage of his own machinations. 

"Come on, Miggy." You watch him bristle, prying at that little crack in the surface. This has to be done with finesse: present a challenge, and watch him scramble to prove you wrong. "You're telling me a couple of hours at a party's too much for you? That's it? " 

"That's not–" 

"S'what it sounds like to me." You shrug, a little smile on your face. The aim is to look as smug as possible; and it seems to be working. 

His jaw shifts, annoyed. Lyla catches on, giving you a crazed smile. 

"Even your roommate's gonna come." She says, an arm linked in yours. 

"I am?" She gives you a little dig, and you're spluttering. "Y-Yeah, I am!" 

You can see him fight with his own ego; but it's a one-sided affair. 

"Fine. " He strains. "Two hours, max. And then I'm gone."

Lyla gives you a squeeze, and then wraps you both up in a hug he desperately tries to fight off. Ben slots around you guys, and Peter's last to join, with Mayday squealing on his shoulders. 

Eventually, you get what's left of your laptop: a little thumb drive with as much as Lyla could save. You'd thanked her profusely, of course; trying to slither out of her vice grip of a hug, as best you could. She's absolutely batshit, the good kind; cryptic, and strange, but with a lot of heart. She makes you wonder, and they all do; just how did they become friends with Miguel? How do they fit? 

The man himself seems a little different, as if reinvigorated by being around friends. In fact, you catch him smiling to himself on the drive home. It's sweet; to see a different side of him around people he's clearly comfortable with. If only for a little while, he sheds the heavy weight he seems to carry around. 

Around the house, you notice he seems lighter – humming to himself whilst cooking dinner. That very day, you watch the little sway of hips as he stirs a pot; headphones in, singing under his breath. He can't sing for shit, of course, and he'd kill you if you ever uttered a word; but it's a sight you commit to memory, not knowing when next he'll be in such a good mood. 

There's still the question of a new laptop in the air, but you feel more settled by the events of the day. You're a little less fucked school-wise, you've got a party to look forward to, and potentially a drunk Miguel to make fun of. He goes to bed early; and you can hear the quiet drone of a podcast from the other side of the wall. He drifts off to the sweet, dulcet tones of Top Ten Genetic Precursors for Early Onset Dementia; one of his favourites, you've determined. 

All is well, for now. A tentative truce, and maybe, just maybe: you're finally friends with your roommate. 

~~~

There's something about dramatic irony that seems to smack you across the face, every time. 

You've come to somewhat of a understanding with your prickly roommate, and the stream of women in his bed seem to slow down, for a bit. He's hot, he's a whore; but he's sweet, with an eye for detail. He can read you with a scary amount of accuracy. Antsy and hungry from a long day? He leaves you scratching your head at his clairvoyance when you come home, chucking you a hot water bottle and a warm meal. You go to bed with a full belly, cramps abated. 

He's still a prick, of course. Sarcastic comments, and a massive grump – but you've learnt to deal with that. Just a couple of days after a seemingly settled week; what you can't wrap your head around is the pounding music from next door, at fuck-off-o'clock . He shouldn't be awake, let alone interrupting your late night study session. 

You're pissed, leaping from your desk to pound at his door. You're thudding towards his room, ready to deliver a well-deserved verbal lashing, and the door just… swings open. Empty; there's a window ajar and music pumping from speakers. Bachata and cheesy 90s R&B; which sounds suspiciously like his sex playlist. 

Yes, he has a sex playlist. And it really has no business to sound as good as it does. 

Nevertheless, you're resolute. If he's managed to sneak someone, at this hour, you decide he's going to get more than a stern talking to. 

There's clattering in the kitchen, and you whip around; half-expecting the giggle of another girl. When you walk in, it's just Miguel, rummaging through cupboards: a half-naked thief in the night. 

"Miguel?" 

He pops his head up from a cabinet, with a half-eaten piece of bread in his mouth. Caught red-handed, you suppose; and he gives you a little smile. 

"S'everyfin' – mmmfggh –" He scarfs the rest of it down. "Everything okay?" 

You squint. "No. Not really."

He chuckles, a slight rasp at the edges of his voice. Dickhead – what exactly is so funny? 

"You can't have your music so fucking loud, not when I'm studying. It's the middle of the night and–" 

Dressed in nothing but a pair of gray sweats, he's busying himself with a sandwich on the counter; clattering around noisily like he doesn't have full control of his limbs. Which is…. weird, admittedly. You'd trust Miguel to slice a grape with a machete – his dexterity is usually unmatched. Not that you'd made a habit of staring at his hands, or anything. 

"Are you even listening to me?" 

He nods, attempting to keep a straight face, but the faux solemnity does nothing to hide that droop of eyelids and slump of his shoulders. You get closer, pushing him to face you properly. 

"Oh, fuck," His eyes are a little red, hair messy and windswept. "Are you… high? " 

Miguel O'Hara? High? You'd never thought you'd live to see the day, honestly. His eyes go wide, dropping his sandwich dramatically. And then he's got a big hand at your shoulder, pulling you closer with a finger pressed to his lips. 

"Shhh! You can't-" Now, he gets close, whispering your name like he's saying something he shouldn't. "You can't tell anyone."

With the way he says your name it makes you light-headed. It's slow and careful, as if he's testing the way it feels spilling from his lips. And maybe, with the way he smiles, it feels good; tastes sweet wrapped around his tongue. 

"I won't." You breathe, and then you're both giggling.

There's something about the way he looks at you, peering under heavy lashes; basically eye-fucking you in the space of your tiny kitchen. You feel bare in a little t-shirt and sleep shorts; suddenly exposed. 

"You should…" He starts, cocking his head ever so slightly. "Join me, chula. "

It's soft; sinful, even; said as he coaxes you between his body and the kitchen counter. 

You don't trust your voice enough to answer, legs already shaky, so you nod. Slight, at first; and then with a little more gusto as the idea of him and you on his sheets – intimate, alone – creeps in. He stretches out a hand, and you take it; led to his bedroom like a scene you've seen before. All those girls before you; led to the dragon's lair like damsels in a fairytale. Except in this one, you suppose, you're not waiting for a knight in shining armour to save you. 

He sits you down on the bed, passing you a freshly rolled blunt. Passing it to your lips , more specifically; hand on your chin as he brings the lighter up to its end. Even prettier up close, all you can do is watch the press of plump lips, and pink tongue sticking out as he concentrates. As he leans in, there's a hand on your bare thigh. You inhale, deeply, and he hums with content.

"Good girl," He purrs, prying it from your lips to take a slow drag. 

"You're a bad influence." You murmur, watching as his eyes flutter shut. 

"You need to relax," He leans back, arm drawn lazily upwards. "This is helping."

"That's not–" Oh. You feel it now, a steady haze rolling over limbs. 

Miguel quirks up an eyebrow, amused. 

You repeat, slowly, "You're a bad influence ."

"Does it feel good?" You pause, trying to ignore his low tone; and the steady blaze that it ignites within you. Dragging your eyes to meet his, you see it: want, lust, something heavy that swirls behind them. 

You nod, itching for another pull. As if psychic, he gestures for you to come closer; and your lips almost slot against his. He exhales, and you inhale; in the closest thing you've come to a kiss in months. It makes you ache for just a little more contact, for those pretty hands to slot between your thighs and–

"Is this all I need to do for some quiet around here?" He asks, lilting. If only he'd stop talking; interrupting your fantasy with that stupid grin of his. 

You're shaking your head, laughing at the sheer gall . 

"You're fucking someone new every week, O'Hara. Loud. Who was it the other day? Cathy, Kayla –" 

"Sita, actually." He has a strange expression on his face. "And we didn't fuck. Just going over lecture notes."

"Sorry . Must have gotten mixed up with the half-dozen other girls in and out of here. Our apartment's not a brothel , Miggy."

He rolls his eyes, handing you the remnants of the blunt. 

"...s'not my fault there isn't anyone fucking you right."

You scoff. "How would you know?" 

"Thin walls. " It's cryptic. What the fuck does that mean?

You take a careful drag, and hand the blunt back – trying your hardest not to strangle him. It must show on your face as you tussle with the thought, because Miguel is staring; unabashedly, unashamedly. When you notice, it throws you off. 

"... what?" Ready to defend yourself, you huff. 

He shrugs. His expression is soft, reminding you of that night, not long ago. 

"You look like a painting."

You practically short circuit. You've been complimented before, of course. Hot, by men trying to get into your pants. Pretty, sometimes. Beautiful, the other times. Whether it's been sincere, you don't know – but you're smart enough to not overthink it. It's hard enough to live a life, as it is; and you'd rather not be bogged down by what others think, how you look whilst doing it. And yet, you feel your body betray you; a steady bloom of heat at your heart, like you've been stabbed. So deep, it spreads like blood on the front of a blouse. Like a painting, he says. And you like the way he says it; how it sounds spilling from his lips. 

Its implication sits heavy. Like a painting : hand-crafted, silken, soft –

He blinks, the crack of a smile on his face. And it ends in a fit of giggling, if you can even call it that. 

"Stop fucking with me." You grumble, and he thinks the way your face scrunches up with disdain is cute. There's probably an implication there he should unpack in therapy – how he likes it when you shout and put him in his place – but he's much too high to care. 

"M'not-" He quiets down, flattens his face into something resembling sobriety and gravitas. He gets a little closer, so close you can feel the heat of his body and flutter of lashes. With wide, dilated pupils, he stills - and it really doesn't help that he looks so pretty. 

"Can't stop thinking about you, hermosa." His voice is low, slurred with the weight of the blunt he's taken careful drags of. Every word makes you feel hazy, drawn in by his lips. " Fuck, all the time."

"Hear your laugh in my dreams, sometimes." He circles your bare thigh carefully, without breaking eye contact. With a thumb on your chin, he brings you closer, and closer still. Gently, you close your eyes, expecting the press of his lips against yours… 

…instead, you get a puff of smoke for your troubles. Reeling, you push him away. He collapses on the bed in a laughing fit. 

"... now I'm fucking with you." Rumbling laughter, and you've got the wherewithal to be embarrassed – hand still resting on his bare chest. 

A little cruelly, you push down, giving him an elbow to the ribs for good measure and he splutters with surprise – laughing all the same. 

"Asshole." You slur, and he grabs your arm to pull you onto the covers with him. You paw at him wildly, wrestling amongst the table of sheets. It's not a fair fight, not really; the wide expanse of his bare chest feels solid, and he's probably got more muscle in his pinky toe than you do in your whole body. Miguel is strong , but plays along regardless, pinning you to the bed with his hands around your wrists - but lets you turn him over just as quick. You're both laughing, the blunt long forgotten but its haze blurring the lines. You straddle his middle, hips flush against his and he keens; head back and cheeks flushed.

"Fuck," It's quiet, said as he writhes below you and you try to pin his hands above his head. Maybe it's the weed, but he lets you: eyes low, breath steady. And you stay like that, for a moment; bodies laid against one another. 

You don't know who starts it: the slow roll of hips, the swell of his cock bucking up against your heat. Regardless, you welcome it, letting the heat build up with the pressure at your clit. Your hips sway and all Miguel can do is watch. 

Lips parted, head back; and you set a steady rhythm that washes over you both.

Humping against one another, you get more desperate and drag your hands to his chest for purchase. Underneath you, Miguel practically purrs – one hand on your waist and the other clutching yours at his chest. 

"So, so pretty…" He sighs into it, wide palm pawing at your ass, shamelessly grabbing handfuls. By now, he's rock hard; and you feel him throb through the thin material of his sweats. 

"Fuck, I can't–" You moan, ragged, the roll of your hips gaining speed. 

Miguel coos, bringing a hand to your chin to pull you closer to the crook of his neck. 

"Too fast, hermosa. S-Slow it down for me." He grips your waist, forcing the pace to slow. Your hips stutter against his, delicious pressure making you cry out. And, God, you're close; pleasure building up at your gut. 

"Ohhh, fuck. Just like that, just like–" It's soft, whispered between the press of bodies like a prayer: reverent, intimate, a slew of garbled English and Spanish into the shell of your ear that goes straight to your pussy. 

"A-Ahi, ahi–"

[t-there, there–] 

Plush lips brush against your cheek, and you try so hard to not float away - with only his words to keep you tethered.  

"... no pares lo que sea que estes haciendo–ohh-fuck–" 

[don't stop what you're doing, oh fuck–] 

The coil at the base of your stomach snaps, and you arch into his touch as he does the same. Miguel spills into his sweats, heaving with the effort. He can feel the clench of your pussy above, and he chases it in the aftermath; craning his neck to finally get a kiss. Limbs heavy, you still manage to swerve so his kisses land at your jaw. He's grateful for the contact anyway it comes and sucks careful hickies into the skin: at your neck, your collarbone, and anywhere else he can reach. 

You sink into it, curl up on his chest like a housecat; his hands wandering the gentle slope of your back under your shirt. 

Limbs heavy, you pry yourself from his hands ever so slightly. He strains to follow you up, snapping back into the sheets like an elastic band. Still, he kneads at your flesh - bare thighs spilling from your shorts. 

" Miguel," You whisper, hand travelling past his neck to cradle his jaw. "Need more…"

You punctuate that last word with a roll of your hips. Wanton, conflicted; he groans . 

"It's late, chula. " He says it slowly, hesitant – like he can't believe the words are coming out of his mouth. He's still high, lost in the whispy remnants of that blunt. You've never known weed to make someone more responsible, and you flop to his side, a little childishly. 

Miguel makes sure to keep a hand wrapped around your waist, dragging his other knuckles up your exposed tummy so that it rides up to the swell of your tits. 

"And you've got that 9am."

You cover your face with the span of your hands, grumbling. From between the gaps in your fingers, you repeat, 

" ...and I've got that 9am ."

He traces lazy circles in your flesh. Maybe it's the blunt, or the afterglow of an orgasm; but you make him laugh, a gentle ache replacing the creak and shudder of gears. 

"Idiot." He says, kissing it into your skin. And he burns from the touch, fleeting; like the warm flame from paper lanterns, or the flicker of a lighter against cool night air. 

_

_

_

Miguel taglist (1): @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns

@ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings @aiyaaayei @hyp-oh-critical @tea-earl-grey-thot @sunset-euphoria @moonsio @akiras-key@szaplsdropthealbum@levanneisdumb @naiya-patel17 @Serostapesweat @strawberrymiguel @yumeeesss @errorundyne-exe @spear-bitch @redsoleily @marsissoswag @slezhara @ye4gerzz @adlct515 @nanam1 @indigocookie @cincocosas-blog @starguiders @path0logicalpeoplepleaser@funkyfishy@whoreloll@eugeab@tarjapearce@maddielikesmoths@egotaestical

[ewanmitchellconnoisseur]

"𝑻𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝑮𝒊𝒓𝒍 𝑩𝒂𝒅"

A/N: This is part two of "You can't run forever". //Divider- @cafekitsune

Summary: Tom finally gets the chance to tell you how he feels and shows you how badly he wants to be with you.

Tw: fingering, unprotected s*x, degradation, public s*x, smut

<<Previous Part

After Tom's wake-up call, he got ready and walked across the street to your house. He knew you would be leaving for work any second now.

As you opened the front door you instantly saw Tom sitting on the bottom step and the scent of smoke in your nose.

"Mornin' Tom." You close the door behind you getting a glimpse of your mother sitting at the kitchen table who has a smirk on her face and gives you a wink.

"Love." Tom puts the cigarette out and stands up. "What we up to today then?"

"Workin'. Covering for Mandy, she's sick." You both start walking down the path. "You?"

"Not much." He watches the occasional cars pass by in silence. "Actually...I want to ask you something..." Tom grabs your hand and stops walking.

"Alright...what is it?" For a moment he just stands there staring at you. Tom had never had any struggles talking to women but when it came to you it is as if he forgets how to even breathe properly. "Tom?"

He blinks quickly and takes a deep breath in. Deep down you already know what he is going to say but you want to hear it from his own lips.

"I-I was wonderin' if you'd maybe want to...go out sometime? Just the two of us..." His heart is pounding in his ears as he waits for even the smallest of reactions from you.

The little girl inside you is jumping for joy. Tom Bennett just asked you out! But there is a woman who stands in her way from getting with her childhood crush. Tom ignored you all through school, flirted with friends and ignored you when you left for college. Now after all of that, he wants to take you out on a date? Yeah, not happening.

"Listen Tom..." His heart dropped, he already knew how this was going to go. "...For so long I had a crush on you and I waited for you to ask me out, but instead you flirted with my friends and then completely ignored me whenever I tried to talk with you."

"I know...I just. You've always been so good. You're smart, a good daughter, you help people without being asked and-" He cuts himself off and sighs. "I was worried that I'd ruin that, that I'd ruin your goodness."

Tom had never been one to talk about his feelings. He preferred to always be a jokester and run away from them. It was nice hearing him finally be open and honest.

"And me? I'm not even half of the person you are, and I never will be. But for you, I-I'd like to try." With your hand still in his he pulls you closer to him. "And I'd hate myself if I didn't. So...just like how I made you wait...I'll wait. I'll wait for you to tell me if we have a chance."

Before you can say anything he kisses you on the cheek wishes you a good day at work and leaves. You stand there on the sidewalk jaw slacked and wide-eyed...who was that? Cause surely that couldn't be your Tom.

Eventually, you realize you're going to be late and continue your walk to work. During your entire shift, your mind keeps running over his words. He sounded sincere, he looked sincere. It was only natural you still had your doubts and worries but you had wanted this for so long and it was finally happening.

In the week that passed Tom backed off a bit. He stopped smothering you and gave you the space you needed to think over what he said. Though he did occasionally walk you to work he'd stop you from giving him an answer just yet, insisting you think over it a little longer.

Today you finally got a day off and not just from work. Your dad was getting better and your mom had plans to stay home for the day. Lois had invited you out for drinks where she'd be singing for the night. You weren't one to go out really but Lois had been like a sister to you all your life and you wanted to support her and her dreams. Plus your mom insisted that you get out of the house and spend some actual time with people who weren't your parents.

So you sat at a table with some people all of you cheering her on as she sang. You hadn't dressed up too much but still wanted to look your best. For totally no reason at all and not for anyone in particular.

You offer to get a fresh round of drinks and head over to the bar. As you lean on the bartop waiting for your drinks you feel a hand snake around your waist. You immediately tensed ready to fight off whatever drunken idiot lost his mind.

"You're driving me nuts in this dress love." You relaxed as you realized it was Tom's hands. As his head rests on your shoulders you can smell that familiar alcohol smell. "Saw ya sitting next to Dan. Should I be worried?" You roll your eyes with a smirk on your face.

Dan had too shown some interest in you when you came back, but even you weren't dumb enough to get with him.

"That man is more committed to his beer than he is to women." You turn around and face him. Tom adjusts his hands so they're still resting on your waist. "You finally ready for my answer?"

Tom narrowed his eyes and stared at you for a moment before shaking his head.

"Not yet." You were starting to get annoyed. Although he said he would be the one waiting it felt like it was you. You could feel yourself getting irritated.

"Tom. I have an answer just let-" Tom pulled you in and kissed you. It was gentle and slow. Not the type of kiss you'd ever imagine having with him. You pegged him as an aggressive kisser type of guy but this was a pleasant surprise. Once he feels you relax into the kiss he pulls away slowly.

"I'll walk you home later. Tell me then yeah?" Tom walks away and joins his group of friends. You turn and grab the drinks you ordered and return back to your table. You enjoy the rest of your night and cheer on Lois.

When the night comes to an end you say goodbye and head out of the pub. As you step out you wrap your jacket around you tighter.

"Ready to go love?" You turn around and see Tom leaning against a wall smoking. He puts it out and walks over to you taking his hand in yours. You both begin walking. Tom's finger brushes over your hand gently as you walk. You can feel how clammy his hands are.

Once you two reach the last bit of walking before you're outside your house you stop holding his hand tightly so he can't walk away.

"Tom." You grab his other hand. "Can we talk now?" You sigh. "Listen-"

"Don't. Please." You were immediately confused. "I know your crush on me was a long time ago and we-" You put your hand over his mouth.

"Tom. Shut. Up." He stared at you wide-eyed. "I was ready to say yes to you the second you asked me." Within moments Tom's lips were on yours and his arms wrapped around you.

Tom leads you both down the alleyway behind your house stopping at your back door.

"I know it's not the most romantic of places but I can't wait any longer." He presses you against the wall as his hands dive in between your legs bunching up your dress and just brushing softly over your clit through your underwear.

He kept gently rubbing you through your underwear as he kissed you deeply, feeling you get wetter by the minute.

"Please..." You needed more. Tom smiled kissing the corner of your lips before moving your underwear to the side. He slowly pushed a finger inside painfully slow. You reached down and started undoing his pants.

"Is this what college turned you into?" He leaned in kissing your neck whispering in your ear. "A needy whore?" He curled his finger searching for that spot as he small hickeys over your neck. He adds another finger pushing in and out of you gently and agonizingly slow. "Always thought I'd be the one to take your virginity." He kept his slow pace. "That's alright. Ill settle for being the man who fucks you the best." He whispers in your ear.

You lean your head back against the cold brick of the building as his fingers do their work. Your moans get louder as he brings you closer to your peak. You cum around his fingers knees feeling slightly weak as he holds you up.

In an instant, Tom picks you up using the wall to help keep you steady as he frees his cock from the confines of his pants. He runs the tip through your folds covering himself in your slick.

"Tell me your mine." Hold holds himself just at your entrance teasing both himself and you. "Say it." He used the thick tip of his cock and circled it around your clit.

"I'm yours." Tom smiled and then slowly pushed himself in. As he bottomed out inside of you he let out a soft groan.

"Fucking perfect pussy." His hands go under your ass as he drags himself in and out of you watching how you coat his cock forming a white ring around his base.

He picks up pace pounding into you as his hands squeeze your ass chasing that feeling. You lazily wrap your legs around his hips locking him in place as his cock hits that perfect spot.

"Fuck! Right there!" Tom can feel you tightening around him. He moves from the wall and steps one foot up onto the steps leading up to your backdoor.

He lowers you deeper on his cock the only sounds in the alleyway being his balls slapping against your ass and your moans. He continues to fuck roughly into you as you both near your climax. Tom kisses you again as you both moan into each other's mouths.

"fuck fuck fuck." As his movements become sloppy your cum hard around him your legs slightly shaking around his body. You can tell he's close by how his face is screwed up. Just before Tom comes he pulls himself off and you take him in your hand finishing himself off, his cum coating your leg.

He sits on the steps with you on his lap and his head resting against your chest. "You meant it?" Tom mumbles. You lean back take his head in your hands and kiss him.

"Yeah. I did. Im yours." He kisses you again before helping to straighten back your dress and tucking himself back into his pants. You sit and talk on those steps for a while longer before you kiss goodbye and head into your house.

You silently close the backdoor and slowly remove your shoes while a stupid grin is painted on your face.

"Glad you went out then yeah?" Your mom doesn't look up from her book but has a cheeky grin on her face.

Meanwhile, Tom climbs up into his bedroom. The only thought on his mind is you as he revels in his victory.

"Finally turned the good girl bad."

A/N: This took me so long to write! I have so many essays due! But I hope you guys like it! This is the last part, it was just a short story ❤️😊

General Taglist: @valeskafics @thought--bubble Series Taglist: @dixie-elocin

[stop-talking]

How do you think jhutch characters would handle a baby?

I'm not quite sure if you're asking "what would they do if you handed them a baby" or "what would they do if you told them you're pregnant" but I'm gonna assume you meant the latter. (feel free to send another request if I got it wrong)

Ranking Jhutch characters from worst to best fathers:

Billy

☆ Would play dumb when you hand him the pregnancy test.

☆ "What's this? Oh, you're pregnant? Can't be mine. My pull-out game is too strong." (literally has NO pull-out game, refuses to use condoms because he "can't feel" with them on)

☆ Basically ghosts you until the paternity test proves it's his. Then he actually ghosts you.

☆ Drops off the face of the fucking Earth for years. Doesn't pay a dime in child support.

☆ Maybe he comes back like 3 years later drunk and demanding to see "his" kid idk. Literally the worst.

Derek

☆ Honestly I headcannon he had a vasectomy at like 24-25.

☆ His mom hit him up once she heard about his prostitute scandals and chewed him out. Gave him "the talk" even though he's a grown ass man... finally got him to get snipped when she brought up the possibility of paying income-based child support for 18 years.

☆ Assuming he doesn't have one, though...

☆ He'd initially be mad and blame you. "I thought you were on the pill!!"

☆ Then he'd be like "Is it too late to... you know... get rid of it?" (and kind of dance around the subject because he's too much of a wimp to just say the word abortion)

☆ Wallace and his mom would both force him to get his shit together and apologize. Eventually he'd come to terms with the fact he's gonna be a dad.

☆ He'd be the kind of bastard to throw an over-the-top gender reveal party. The kind that burns down half of California or pollutes a major water channel.

☆ I think he'd be a really good girl dad. He'd let her paint his nails and stuff. Spoil her. <3

☆ He would treat a son completely differently. Teach him to "be a man" or whatever when he's still learning to walk. Force him into random ass sports.

☆ He'd have them mostly taken care of by a nanny. That's probably how he was raised, anyways. Derek Danforth is NOT changing a diaper.

Futturman

☆ Whether we're talking pre-show or post-show, he'd freak the fuck out if you handed him a positive pregnancy test. I'm talking full-on pass out.

☆ Pre-show Josh would be like "Babe we can NOT afford a baby I literally live at home with my parents and work as a janitor."

☆ His parents would be so crazy supportive though. They've been hinting that they want grandkids for YEARS.

☆ They literally clear out a room IMMIDEATELY after hearing the news and offer it to you to use as a nursery.

☆ His mom buys you more baby clothes than you could possibly need. His dad builds a crib from scratch.

☆ Overall Josh is stressed asf but he does his best to be there for you, and his parents are OVERWHELMIGLY supportive.

☆ Post-show Josh, on the other hand, doesn't have that support. But he's survived unspeakable horrors across multiple dimensions, how hard could a baby be?

☆ Extremely hard, apparently. One day he just loses it and makes a huge decision without asking you.

☆ "Josh WTF happened to our savings??"

☆ "TRUST ME BABE we need to invest in Apple!!"

☆ You're pissed but it pays off in a few years and you're both able to live comfortably.

☆ Then in 2015-ish he did the same thing again, pouring all your savings into bitcoin. This time you SWEAR you're going to leave him, but it all pays out in the end. He gets your kid through college with that money.

☆ Overall he's a really good father, too. He had great parents, and even if he's not experienced with kids, he's naturally a very caring and attentive person.

Mike

☆ Cries when he sees the pregnancy test. He's not even sure if it's happy or sad tears.

☆ Gets sick to his stomach overthinking about how he's going to be a terrible father. His dad walked out on him, so he has literally no idea how to act.

☆ Abby, on the other hand, is absolutely delighted. She's always wanted a "little sister". Mike has to remind her that technically it's her niece. Or nephew. There's no guarantee on the gender yet.

☆ Eventually he comes to terms with it all. He's taken care of Abby for ten years, he isn't completely clueless.

☆ Takes you to all of your Dr.'s appointments, checkups, etc. Holds your hand. Makes all of your weird pregnancy cravings and doesn't judge.

☆ After the birth, he lets you rest. Nearly works himself to death trying to take care of the baby all on his own because he wants you to recover.

☆ I'm talking getting up bleary-eyed at 2am every night to microwave some formula and feed the baby. After working a 10 hour shift.

☆ Pulls the "I have a baby on the way" card at work in an attempt to get a raise. It works, thankfully. (In the novel version of the movie; it says he gets a job as a contractor at the end. So hopefully he can afford a kid...)

----------♡----------

[Remember: these are just MY headcannons. If you think differently that's fine. I didn't include Clapton because he's literally in highschool... and we all know Peeta is an amazing father.]

[hwaslayer]

project: make you love me (jyh) | two.

♣︎ spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: yunho can’t stand how you’re so wrapped up in the notorious campus fuckboy, park seonghwa. he would gladly love you the way you deserve, despite being shy, awkward and the complete opposite of seonghwa. thus, when he finds himself spending more time with you over literature reviews and random study sessions, he decides to take on the challenge to win you over.

—pairing: jeong yunho x f. reader x park seonghwa

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers/friends to lovers, college au | fluff, angst, (eventual) smut

—word count: 3.6k

—chapter content/warnings: nothing too bad since we're still in the beginning stages of things lol, cussing, friends being supportive, friends being instigators and projecting!!, hwa still being hwa, yunho being shy and awkward but very caring

You scrambled to get your literature review done, almost forgetting that you had to send it to Yunho before officially submitting it to your professor. It's a bit past midnight when Seonghwa decides it's time to drop you off— even if it gets incredibly late, he'd prefer to drop you off at home rather than let you stay.

All Seonghwa's bullshit plans.

You yawn as you quietly step into your shared apartment, careful not to wake your roommates as you pull out your laptop and finish your lit review on the kitchen island in the dark. It fucking sucks that absolutely nothing is coming to you for this review because now, Yunho is probably going to think you're just flat out dumb for not being able to see what everyone else sees.

"Hey." You whip your head up so fast you almost give yourself whiplash. Seungmin groggily walks out of his room and into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water. "Why are you working out here in the dark? Did you just get home?" You nod.

"Mhm. Forgot I had to finish that literature review and send it to Yunho."

"Forgot already?"

"Shut up, okay? Not my favorite assignment to work on. Besides, I wanna give him some time to review it and chew my ass if he needs to. Rather him than Dr. Nelson at this point." You type away, probably hella nonsense and gibberish about the movie at this point.

"Hm." Seungmin hums as he quickly drinks his water. "Don't stay up too late."

"I won't. Just gonna give this a few more words then send it off." You sigh. God, you almost regret asking Yunho [out of all people] for help. He's super smart and he always knows what he's doing. Was this the right route to go? Maybe you should've just asked Dr. Nelson and dealt with it.

"Mkay. Goodnight then, Y/N." Seungmin yawns as he drags himself back to his shared room with Soobin. You decide that you're gonna take another 10 minutes to finish off the review, giving it everything you can think of right now. If it needs tweaking or any additional details, Yunho can surely step in and help. You feel exhaustion hitting you quickly, giving your review the last bout of energy you have left before you shower and call it a night.

"Done." You say to yourself, sending it off to Yunho as an attachment. 

He probably won't look at this until later.

You make sure to double check your emails and assignments, keeping track of everything that's due and needs to be turned in—

Ding.

You peep the notification that pops up on the bottom right of your laptop screen.

"1 New Email from: Jeong Yunho (jeongyh@kq.edu)"

"What the fuck?" You mutter to yourself. It hasn't been a whole 10 minutes since you sent the email. You click on the notification anyway, letting it bring you to the new email in your student inbox.

— do you have time to meet really quickly later today? i wanna go over your review with you. cool if you can't though, just prefer to talk to you in person instead of marking up your page without any explanation to back it up.

You sigh and sit there, trying to remember your schedule for tomorrow. You do have a 45 minute break in between your morning classes. Hopefully, he's free.

— sure! i'm free from 10:15-11. does that work for you?

"1 New Email from Jeong Yunho (jeongyh@kq.edu)"

— yup, i don't have class till after lunch. i'll be working at one of the booths in the library.

You sit back and respond, feeling a bit of relief.

— cool, see you. :) thanks for your help.

Yunho sits at his desk, feeling a bit awkward and nervous even though you can't see him right now. It's probably a little pathetic at how quick he opened up your email, but to be fair, you seemed like you really needed the help and that's what he wanted to give you. You aren't necessarily writing bad reviews, since you're hitting all the right points. But, he has Dr. Nelson figured out. He doesn't want just the facts— he wants you to think outside of the box, write out the emotions, feelings, outcomes of all the actions, give examples, state what your thoughts are on how this effects the surroundings, other characters. You just need to add that little umph to your reviews and give him more than the bare minimum. Yunho gets it though, it's not easy to tap into that all the time. That's why he's here to help. 

He's hoping he can be the help you need.

"Did you come in pretty late last night or was Seungmin sleep walking?" Soobin scratches the side of his head as the two of you walk towards the library.

"No, that was me." You chuckle.

"Did Seonghwa at least walk you to the door? Cause that's late."

"Yeah right." You scoff and Soobin shakes his head. "Whatever though, he drops me off as close as possible to our building."

"Still. He should at least walk you halfway."

"Mm, yeah." Is all you respond with. "Anyway, lunch later? I have to meet with Yunho to talk about this review."

"Oh? You're actually meeting with him? That's new. I feel like that's something out of the ordinary for Yunho."

"He asked if we could so that he could explain better instead of just marking up my review." 

"That's nice of him."

"Yeah, hopefully I'm not too much of a pain in the ass."

"Doubt it. You just need a little guidance, that's all. Sure he'll be super helpful." Soobin smirks. "He seems to not go out of his way for people, maybe he likes you."

"Are you serious right now? All because I need help over a literature review." Soobin laughs.

"Just saying. I already like Yunho way more than Seonghwa."

"Okay, I'm leaving. I'll see you later." You roll your eyes and enter the quieter side of the library where the booths are located. It's easy to spot Yunho, especially with that towering figure of his even while sitting. Today, he's wearing a navy and white flannel, with a grey shirt underneath. His hair falls to his face as he leans over to write some notes. He has one finger placed on a page in his textbook, while the other hand is busily writing away. He glances to and from every now and then, only looking up at his surroundings when he feels you approaching.

"Um, hi." You awkwardly stand near the booth with your books tucked against your chest. He simply looks at you before giving you a tiny, pursed smile and returning his attention to his books.

"Hey." He moves his book and notebook closer to himself in order to give you some room. "Sorry, just need to finish this right quick."

"That's okay. Take your time." You slide in awkwardly and set your books on the surface of the table. "Thanks for going over my review."

"No worries." He says softly before finishing up his notes and shutting his books closed. He brings out his laptop and types away to unlock it, pulling up your document before turning the laptop towards you. "So."

"Sorry, I know it was bad." You look at him, a little shy and embarrassed. He tilts his head a bit and furrows his brow while looking at you.

"Huh? No, it wasn't bad, Y/N." He lets out a small chuckle. "You're hitting the right points, Dr. Nelson is just super complex and wants you to use these facts a bit more." He points at a line in your review. "You talk about the characters feelings here after an upsetting moment, which is right. But, how does it affect their surroundings? Their actions, the people around them, what they get themselves into to cope. How does feeling bad branch out to all these things? Why? How does it contribute to their overall attitude, to the overall character?" You nod. 

"It seems so easy to talk about, but I don't know why I have so much trouble doing it. I feel kinda dumb." He shrugs.

"You're not. You just have to dig into the details a little more and use those examples instead of staying safe and stating what we know already. It's easy to stay safe because you know what you're stating is gonna be right. Dr. Nelson just wants a little more than that, is all."

"Thanks, Yunho." He gives you a toothless smile.

"Of course. Uh," He scratches his temple. "Let's go through everything else? So, I can be of better help to you?" You nod.

"Only if you're okay with it."

"Yeah. Just wanna make sure I help you out correctly." He lets out a shy chuckle before thoroughly going through your literature review with you. He asks you the right questions, allowing you to edit your own document on his laptop while the two of you continue to converse. He shares his thoughts and the things he's included on his review, making it easier for you to understand what you were missing and leaving out in your own.

Literature was never your favorite. You partially didn't care enough to put in enough effort, hence the lack of patience and understanding with the assignments— the lack of patience and understanding with your own professor.

As 11 closes in, you sit and look at your fully edited review feeling content. You look at Yunho, a small toothless smile on your face while he awkwardly glances around the library to avoid long eye contact. He gently taps his hands against the surface of the table, waiting for you to break the silence.

Which, you eventually do.

Thank god.

"Yunho, I feel so much better about this." You slide the laptop over to him. "Thanks for helping me, seriously. I don't know what I'd do if I had to see Dr. Nelson's comments again."

"It's not a problem." He shrugs. "I um, can continue to look at your reviews if you want?" Your eyes light up as you nod delightfully.

"Really?"

"Sure."

"I have to repay you somehow, that's too much on your plate isn't it?"

"It's not. I wouldn't offer if it was." He chuckles a bit.

"Lunch one day?"

"You don't have to."

"I would like to. Or, if our schedules don't work, we can always meet for coffee and go in on the café desserts."

"Sounds good." He smiles and pulls out his phone to slide it towards you. "Mm, do you think I can grab your number? Sorry, don't mean to be lame about it. I just figured it'd be easier instead of emailing each other. Unless that's what you.. prefer?" You chuckle and shake your head.

"No, this is totally easier. Don't worry." You plug your number in before sliding it back to me. "There."

"That's me." He says after giving you a quick ring so you can save his number on your own phone. You start to gather your things to start heading to class when you hear a familiar laugh come from one of the aisles to your right. You turn over your shoulder to catch wind of the noise, finding Seonghwa deep in conversation with another classmate, another senior girl [actually this one is probably Hyeri?] She seems to be laughing at his jokes, even though they probably aren't that funny. Somehow, the way he looks at her [along with any other female who isn't you] breaks your heart.

Breaks your heart even though there isn't anything else left to break.

Seonghwa briefly makes eye contact with you before his eyes quickly dart to Yunho, then back to Hyeri in front of him. You quietly continue to gather your things and swallow the lump forming in your throat, unsure why you allow this feeling to completely ruin your mood. Yunho takes note, for sure though. Again, he's not sure if he should feel bad because you surely knew what it was like getting tangled with Seonghwa. That was no secret on campus. However, he's an empath, and seeing that you've been kind and calm around him— he can't help but feel bad. A tiny bit sad, upset even, that you continue to let yourself mess around with Seonghwa when you deserve so much more.

Yunho challenges Seonghwa a bit though, letting his eyes linger on him until Seonghwa breaks away first. He checks on you and parts his lips slightly because he wants to say something, anything— he's just not sure what. Eventually, he settles with:

"Are you okay?" It's clear you're not and Yunho immediately feels stupid as fuck for settling with that question.

"Hm, yeah. Just tired, is all." He nods, watching as you slide out of the booth and swing your bag strap over your shoulder.

"Don't hesitate to text me if you need anything else. I'll try and help." When he says it, he's hoping you can catch onto the fact that he's someone who could listen to your troubles. He's not good with words or opening up to people, but he thinks he could at least offer that after seeing the way you sank in front of him. His eyes dart back up to you when you tuck your books back to your chest and smile at him.

"I will. Thanks again, Yunho. Lunch or coffee soon, okay?" You say sweetly before leaving him back to his lonesome. 

"How was your date with Yunho?" Soobin asks as he forks his salad and takes a big bite. You glare at him before shaking your head.

"This is how rumors spread, you idiot." Chaery smacks him on the back of the head, making him laugh but slightly wince in pain at the same time.

"I'll whoop your ass if you say that word and Yunho in the same sentence one more time." You roll your eyes. "My literature review session with him went fine. He did help me out a lot, practically added another page to my review from all the edits we made."

"That's good." Soobin says, laughing. "Are you gonna have him review your literature stuff from now on?"

"Probably, it comes so easy for him. Or, maybe I just lack the patience." You shrug. "But, his help would definitely be nice. I need to push my grade up."

"Mhm." Soobin wiggles his brows.

"He's pushing this Yunho agenda so much." You point at Soobin while looking at Chaery and she shrugs.

"I mean don't get me wrong, I'm on the same bloat." You glare at her. "But, I'm on your side more than anything!" She quickly bounces back, making you sigh.

"I give up." You mumble as you rest your chin on the palm of your hand. Suddenly, your phone vibrates off to the side, making you lazily tap your screen to see who the notification is from.

"Better not be Seonghwa." You glare at Chaery once again.

"I'm taking this to the couch." You stick your tongue out before grabbing your phone and walking over to the couch in the living room. Because it's not, and you don't really wanna deal with your teasing friends even more.

yunho: btw, i like this website if i don't really wanna dig too deep into the details

yunho: it's a good website that summarizes a lot of the themes in books, and they have a huge catalog

You smile and respond back, feeling appreciative that he thought of you.

yunho: srry for the triple text, hope i didnt bother

you: you didn't. thank you, yunho :) i'll bookmark this that way i won't have to bother you so much lol

yunho: you're not a bother haha but np. have a good night!

you: you too!

Then, another comes in. And of course it's Seonghwa. But, the message isn't your typical message, no. It's a message that easily rubs you the wrong way because why? Why does Seonghwa like to pull this shit?

seonghwa: since when did you talk to jeong yunho? lol

you: why does it matter?

seonghwa: it's a simple question?

you: you're ridiculous, you know? we're in the lit same class. again, not that it matters .. ?

seonghwa: how am i ridiculous? lol

you: whatever seonghwa

seonghwa: why are you upset, baby? i'm just asking. i don't see what yunho's point is

you: he has no point, he's just helping me out.

seonghwa: okay, sure lol do you wanna come over? could use your company ): 

you: not tonight

you: maybe you can call hyeri, or whatever her name is. i'm spending time with my roommates

seonghwa: baby, seriously? i was talking to a classmate. can we not fight over dumb shit again?

you: goodnight seonghwa

You sigh out of irritation, tossing your phone aside. It's a bit close to 10pm, but you feel like getting some fresh air and taking a quick walk around the complex would do you some good. 

"Chaery, can we take a walk?" She looks at you and nods.

"Sure."

"What about me?" Soobin asks with a mouth full.

"You're eating."

"I can take it with me."

"It's girl talk." He cringes a bit and shakes his head.

"Nevermind. Be safe, come back soon." You chuckle just as Chaery walks out of your shared room in a hoodie. She has one of your jackets in your hand, handing it over as she gets closer.

"It's a bit cold tonight. Jacket?" 

"Thanks." You smile at her as you throw it on and zip it up, sliding into your slippers before walking out. Chaery is right; the air is colder, crisp. It has a little bite, especially against your skin. Chaery wraps her arm around yours, pulling you close for extra body heat.

"What happened, babe?"

"Huh?"

"You told Soobin it was girl talk." You laugh a bit and nod.

"Oh yeah, right. It is." You sigh as you hold her close. "Nothing, it's just Seonghwa. He texted me just to ask when I started talking to Yunho and what his point was. Got on my nerve."

"Ew, what's his problem? Y/N, seriously. You can do so much better than him. I know it's not easy, and I know he has his moments with you. But baby, you deserve someone who is always sure about you and who will be happy to flaunt you off."

"I know." You sigh. "It's like every time I think about leaving, he does something to keep me close."

"But, it shouldn't be this way, you know? You shouldn't have to wait for these moments. It should happen every day if he really cared about you."

"Yeah." Is all you can say because what can you say? It's hard to break it off with Seonghwa because this is your routine, something you've gotten used to— his presence is something you've gotten accustomed to. Even if it he isn't necessarily the best, he keeps you company. The kind of company that you like.

"How was meeting up with Yunho? Did he help you with your review?"

"A lot. He is super helpful, and he offered to keep helping me."

"Aw." Chaery giggles. "That is so sweet of him."

"He's actually really kind, and patient. I offered to take him out for lunch or something one day."

"Cute. Yeah, you should! Get to know him. Maybe he just needs a little pushing out of his shell, you know? You could probably help him in return." You shrug.

"Maybe? He's still—" Suddenly, Chaery's eyes shoot up to the figure ahead. She does a little gasp before making a cute noise and dragging you closer.

"Yunho!" She says, waving at him. He looks a little startled, but he stops in his tracks and waits with his hands in his pockets— a shy, small smile creeping at the corner of his lips. "Wait, oh my god! I didn't realize you lived here, too! I mean, so does the majority of campus, but still!" You sure as hell didn't know either, and you feel a bit bad that you just probably never noticed. 

"Uh, yeah. I just live over there." He points at his building.

"Who do you live with?"

"Kang Yeosang." Chaery nods.

"Ah, cute. What a pair." You give her a look before shifting your attention back to Yunho. He quietly waits for the next part of the conversation, his eyes softly gazing over you. 

You're cute.

"What are you doing out here this late?"

"Could ask the same for you two." He chuckles and nervously scratches at the nape of his neck. "I, uh, can't sleep sometimes. The walk kinda helps."

"Ah, I see. Makes sense."

"So.." He awkwardly says, shifting weight from one foot to another. "Also couldn't sleep?" You shrug.

"We just needed to get out and get some air." Chaery cuts in for a follow-up to avoid any Seonghwa talk. Though, she knows Yunho wouldn't do that to you. 

"It's getting late though, and pretty cold."

"We're just gonna walk to the end then walk back."

"Hm, okay." 

"It was nice running into you." Chaery smiles. "I hope you can get some rest tonight!"

"Hopefully. Have a good night." He looks at her, then you; he gives you a very tiny, very subtle nod of acknowledgement. With that, the two of you walk past to continue your walk, Chaery praising how gentle and good-looking Yunho is until the end of the walk. Yunho knows the community is safe, but he cuts his walk short just to head up to his building and get a better view of yours. He hangs over the railing near the stairs, catching sight of you and Chaery. He watches as you circle back around to your building, slowly heading up the stairs. He can hear your laughs from where he stands, and he's glad you seem to be okay tonight.

It's good that you have great friends by your side.

When your figures disappear into the hallway, Yunho feels content, relieved— knowing you've both made it safely home. He turns on his heel to make it to his own apartment, greeted by a dark living room with echoes of Yeosang yelling at his PC.

At least you're okay. 

At least you're not outside, waiting in the cold.

At least you're with good company.

♣︎ taglist: @s-nsanshine @soupbinlily @tyongff-ff @jiminiscricket @g1g1l @staytinyinmybpack @woomyteez @gfksz @bitchwhytho @savluvsmingi @thisisntmyrightera @hyukssunflower @miriamxsworld @tmtxtf @kuromibabe04 @lmnhead @carrietwrites @tournesol155 @persphonesorchid @txt-yaomi @marsattacks @mxnsxngie [bold = can’t tag 😭]

[sammyvhs]

hook man : 1.07 — jess’s sister.

Sam took one look at Lori and knew he wanted to talk to her. Not because she was guilty or because she looked sad— he just did. And he didn’t know he could still even feel like that towards other women since Jess died.

It scares him, especially as he and Dean brainstorm ideas, he can’t stop thinking about it. It’s not like he’s ready to start dating or anything, but he feels some kind of pull towards her and it’s stupid at best, destructive at worst.

Which is why he’s kind of relieved to see a message from Becky, maybe it’ll take his mind off the situation. Alas, when has he ever had it easy? Hey, I don’t think she’s okay. 

He doesn’t need to ask who she’s referring to.

Why? What’s wrong?

Her response sends shivers down his spine and he can’t comprehend it for a second. He can’t. She’s gone. 

What does that even mean, you’re gone? Where would you go? He knows you don’t want to go back home and you’re not ready to face college yet so what on earth does ‘she’s gone’ even indicate?

“Hey, Dean, I’m gonna—” He shakes his head to point outside and hastily presses Becky’s number. “Becky, what do you mean she’s gone?”

“Hey, Sam. Im sorry, i didn't mean to scare you, she just left to go back to college, you know? She said it was, uh, time to move on.” you don't just move on. You’re one of the most emotion-fueled people Sam has ever met in his life, it’s something he admires about you, your ability to feel so fully.

“But you talked to her? She’s safe?”

“Yeah, no she’s safe. Just really sad.” well, that’s just your default these days so what can he do? He ends te call with Becky a little more calm and a lot less happy.

He doesn’t want you to be alone in college, wandering empty halls and seeing her face everywhere you go the same way he does, but he also needs you to get back to your everyday life. You have to.

He, most of all, can’t keep living with you relying on his coping to help you out of the black hole you dug yourself into. You want to talk about what happened with jess so bad but Sam cant handle it, he can’t handle even thinking about her without this wave of guilt eating him alive so he chooses not to, and he knows he’s hurting you in the process but he can’t cope in any other way. The truth is, he just needs time. He’ll talk about jess eventually, tell you about the dreams, tell you how he feels, just… god, definitely not now.

The hunt ends, lori kisses him, his arm is pulsating so hard he can feel it in his throat. All he can think about is you.

You call his phone when he’s in the car.

[chloeangelic]

Pleasers & baked ziti

Bouncer!Joel x stripper!reader

A self indulgent drabble about pole dancing and Sopranos

Summary: Joel is everyone's favorite bouncer, who always spends his break with his favorite dancer

Warnings: Fluff, flirting, set in 2007, takes place in a strip club, Sopranos references and spoilers, no outbreak, no use of y/n, sarcasm, banter, crushing, Joel gets a pole dancing lesson lmao, eventual smut

Word count: 1.4k

🍝🍝🍝🍝

Upon realizing that being a single dad who wants to put his teenage daughter through college is expensive, Joel took a second job as a bouncer at a strip club nearly two years ago, Thursday to Sunday, letting his brother live with him in exchange for babysitting. He’s very professional about the whole gig, and he’s the first person the girls always go to when a patron creates problems or they have a bad night. They all love and trust him, but there's one dancer who knows him a little better than the rest, one who’s always on break at the same time as him, sitting in the staff room, eating snacks and watching The Sopranos reruns when he comes in. 

“That’s Karen’s last ziti”, he exclaims at the same time as Bobby Baccala says it on screen, walking towards her on the couch, “He’s not ready to eat that yet”. Neither of them look at each other before he's next to the couch, but she giggles at his delivery of the lines. “Janice is such a grifter, right?” she asks and scoots over to give him space to sit down on the small couch, “Want popcorn?”. Without waiting for an answer, she dumps the half-empty bowl in his lap and keeps watching the episode. “Slow night?” Joel asks, and she sighs in response. “Just drunk morons I can tell aren’t gonna tip”, she says and rolls her eyes, “The ones who tell me they can “save me” and then ask what my real name is”. 

Joel puts his hand over his mouth and his eyes widen, acting stunned, “You tryna tell me your name ain’t actually Amethyst?”. She puts her hand on his leg and shakes her head, looking at him with a sympathetic expression, trying not to smile. “I was trying to find the right time to tell you, I was thinking maybe on your two year work anniversary?” she says, “We could get you a cake that says ‘these aren't our real names sorry Joel we thought you knew’, with no punctuation or decorative flowers, just the writing”. He cracks up a little and looks at her, “You’re bringin’ the baked ziti to the party, or what, no fuckin’ ziti?”. “Idiot” she giggles and pushes his leg before retracting her hand. 

“As far as I'm concerned, your name is Buffalo Ray” he says, shrugging and throwing popcorn up in the air to catch them with his mouth. “The hell?”, she acts insulted and blinks at him impatiently, “Why am I Buffalo Ray? He died snitching, man”. He laughs a little before he answers her, looking at her fake-irritated face about to burst into laughter, “Cause you're a rat”. “Fuck off” she says and nudges him, earning her a rumbling laugh from the man. “You watch last night?” he asks, “It’s goin’ downhill fast for these gavones”. “Duh, I ev-” she says before she’s interrupted by the manager giving an announcement in the other room, and everything is drowned out by the noise from the TV except for something about the club closing early tonight. 

She looks at Joel with an excited expression, jumping up on her knees before sitting back on her platform heels and putting both hands on his arm, “Wanna give me a private show?”. “Who are you talkin’ to?” he asks and looks around the room. “You, big boy, come on” she says and slaps him gently on his shoulder. He snorts a little and looks down, trying to hide that he’s blushing, “You might have to teach me some moves”. 

50 Cent is playing on the speakers and the lights are flashing when she pulls Joel up on stage, still wearing her lingerie and heels. She’s about as tall as him in her nine inch Pleaser heels, black and sparkly with a worn down sole. He's broad and muscular, with a scruffy face and hair that’s surprisingly fluffy considering it doesn't look like he makes much of an effort with it. They’ve only ever seen each other in their work outfits despite hanging out regularly for almost two years, talking about anything and everything, becoming relatively close despite never taking the step out of the club and meeting in a different setting. 

“This is a body wave” she says as she holds onto the pole and demonstrates, pointing at her body at different parts of the movement, “Chest, stomach, hips, chest, stomach, hips”. He looks at her with a concentrated expression, whispering chest, stomach, hips back to himself. He’s been desensitized to the sight of girls in lingerie, semi nude and fully nude for a while now, and has no issues focusing when she breaks down the moves she does every night. “Okay, now you do it” she says and takes a step back, watching him grab the pole and whisper the instructions while he stiffly moves his upper body in an S-shape. 

“Great, now take a step around” she says and points in a circular motion around the pole, watching him step out to the right, “Shift your weight, Joel, left hip”. She pokes his hip with her finger and waits for him to lean onto his left leg, applauding when he steps around in a somewhat more slinky fashion. “Last move,” she says and holds up her index finger before waving at him so he steps away while she demonstrates. 

“This is a figure eight,” she slides her hands down and sticks her ass out, shifting her weight between her hips to rotate side to side, looking Joel directly in the eyes on the other side of the pole. He clears his throat and glances away for a second before refocusing, grabbing the pole and looking back to see if he’s doing it right. “Loosen your hips, baby, let me see some more ass” she says and smacks him playfully on his lower back. “I see you ladies do this four nights a week,” he groans, “I should really have figured this out by now”. She clicks her tongue and raises an eyebrow in response. 

“Okay, now put it all together and give me a show” she says and jumps off the platform, taking a seat right in front of the stage. They both take a deep breath, looking away from each other to prevent from bursting out in laughter, and he steps close to the pole, running the little routine from the top. “I'm breakin' a sweat here” he mutters as he tries to replicate her smooth movements, realizing construction work and lifting weights haven't prepared him for such specific types of strength training. 

“Ay, ay, ayyyy” she calls out and whistles, “You should take off your shirt”. He can’t hold it in anymore, and chuckles as he steps around the pole and tries to bend over like she did, realizing how stiff he is and how flexible she must be to comfortably do this, especially in those heels. He sees the excitement in her eyes at how well he’s replicating the moves she taught him, and she claps enthusiastically while he pants from just a thirty second long stage set. 

“Let me drive you home” he says as she puts on her jacket and they walk out of the door, “Don’t want you standin’ around outside alone at this hour”. “Won’t say no to that” she says excitedly and flings the truck door open, throwing her bag into the back and jumping into the passenger seat. He laughs a little as he climbs in and starts the engine, turning the radio down to a low volume and navigating out of the parking garage. 

Only a few minutes go by before he glances to his right and sees that she’s asleep against the window, faintly snoring. He smiles to himself a little and continues watching the road, easily finding her house after driving her home countless times. He parks the truck and waits a second before carefully nudging her shoulder, and she wakes up disoriented. “Thanks Joel,” she says as she leans over the console and grabs her bag, “Say hi to Sarah from me, see you tomorrow”. He says goodnight and watches her close the truck door and run inside, staying in her driveway until she's gotten into her house and turned on a light before he drives away.

[grapenehifics]

Solsbury Hill question!!

Okay….so Obi-Wan said he was done moving…but then Anakin of course got them a house to rent and move in to!! But, after those 2 years are up….do they move again😳😳😳😳 orrrrr does Anakin and Obi-Wan buyout the house from them??

I don’t know why my brain is suddenly like…WHAT DO THEY DO….but my brain won’t stop thinking about it🤣🤣🤣🤦🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️

MY FRIEND you have tickled my brain no end with this ask and I can't stop thinking about it. Because 'what next' - that's the question, isn't it?? I'm bad at endings - I 'stopped' (ha) Solsbury Hill because I thought that was a really good stopping point, but then obviously kept going and now there's a whole Bonus Scenes fic because I can't stop thinking about what they do next either! So, here's some random thoughts that haven't (yet) made it into the Bonus Scenes.

-They've got to figure out Obi-Wan's job, or at least his working conditions. They're trying! Anakin looked into that airplane mechanic program and Obi-Wan started adjuncting but ultimately decided having an on-call schedule wasn't for him/their family. But what he can do, and the direction I think he's eventually going to shift, is social work through the school district (rather than the county). He is using his degree, he's working with kids, but it's going to be a more standard business hours schedule (no more weekends!) and while he's certainly got a lot of kids to work with (the school district of course hires far fewer social workers than they should) he's also not the last line of defense for any of them, and can liaise with their 'regular' county social workers for things they need outside of school. And, side benefit for their family, LAUSD is an enormous district and he can transfer almost anywhere if he needs to.

-By the time the Ersos get back from Europe, a lot of things have changed with their kids. Ahsoka (in the Sick Kids chapters of Bonus Scenes) was in her freshman year of college, living at home and commuting to class. But as she keeps going to school she makes some friends who start talking about getting an apartment near campus together. Anakin and Obi-Wan are of course very determined that she always has a home with them anytime she wants/needs it, but she just isn't at home quite as often as she grows up and could maybe have a pull-out couch, or share bunk beds with Leia, rather than needing her own bedroom. The twins, too, are older and starting to be in school during the day for longer and longer periods of time.

So, all of that, plus Obi-Wan having a related but new, slightly less-stressful job, plus having to leave the house they'd been renting for two years, they talk about changes they could make and things they could give up so that Anakin could quit his job at Mr. Plo's shop and do the airplane mechanic program - but the track that holds classes during the day, rather than in the evenings/at night. So they're down to just Obi-Wan's income, which isn't great, but they take advantage of being a little more mobile and moving so Anakin's commute isn't so long, and by the time he gets out of class either he or Obi-Wan can pick the twins up from daycare and then still have the whole evening to spend with them and do dinner and baths and bedtime and all of that without Obi-Wan and Ahsoka trying to do all of that without Anakin around. (Anakin also makes some money on the side on weekends by flipping classic cars. Obi-Wan is annoyed at having to always find street parking because their assigned parking spots are taken up by Anakin's latest clunker projects, but it makes Anakin happy and he does make them extra income off it so Obi-Wan deals with it.) It still takes two years and yeah it's a big letdown from having their own (rented) house with a little yard and actual bedrooms for the kids AND the adults to not have to sleep in the living room but...

-After two years Anakin gets a much-better paying job at any one of the major or minor airfields in the area (still staying pretty local for both Obi-Wan and Padmé's jobs, because they've got split custody of the twins, and for Ahsoka's school, so that she can come home holidays and weekends without having to travel too far) and THEN they can actually relax a little bit and start thinking about 'what do we WANT to do' and 'where do we WANT to be' without having things they HAVE to do and decisions they HAVE to make just to stay solvent hanging over their heads. But it is a process and I don't want to make it too easy for them ;)

(I also like to think that Obi-Wan really does end up transitioning out of being a full-time social worker himself and into teaching future MSW students at a university. He has the credentials and the experience for it and who doesn't love Professor!Obi-Wan? But that doesn't happen immediately.)

So, in a very long answer to your question, they do have to move a few times again even after leaving the Erso's house, and they may never be the sort of family who can save up enough for a down payment and buy their own home/stop renting but they just might conceivably become the sort of family who isn't quite living paycheck-to-paycheck anymore and that's a really big deal for them and a ton of progress that they really have to fight for but they do it!

Thank you for asking this and getting me back into the swing of this fic because I love and miss them, too ♥

[eliotquillon]

forget pining cam and jealous cam. give me "oh my god i am never going to date you------you got fired????" cam

i slipped

“House fired me,” Chase says, and Cameron finds it hard to care much about whatever’s going on with Foreman after that.

*

She’ll go to her deathbed denying it, but it is powerful, Cameron thinks, to turn Chase down every week. It isn’t that she relishes in it—the opposite, really; the first time it happens and she realises he’s serious she barely gets a few hours sleep and has to dig out her old retainer to stop herself from grinding her teeth. And she isn’t unused to handing out rejections, either; in college, back when she was the incredible mourning widow, Cameron got into the habit of smacking away every loud request for her to show her face at a party, and politely letting down study-group partners who wanted more. There’s no fun and no novelty. Still. There is a part of her, a mean part, maybe, that likes that he keeps coming back. That she can set her calendar by him. The tenacity is new, and interesting. Cameron has always prided herself on having firm boundaries, shouldn’t really be engaging in what is a clear attempt to skirt the line, but the fact that Chase even wants to skirt at all—

Cameron is a lot of things; she isn’t naïve. Foreman and House and hell, even Chase, can argue with her about it, but she knows better. Workplace relationships do not end well. They end worse, Cameron notes with alarm when Foreman tenders his resignation, with no buffer. Chase has never had a serious relationship in his life; Cameron’s sole attempt was, quite literally, grave. Even if she wanted it to, it will not work—wanting is irrelevant. She is making the selfless decision, in turning him down. He’ll thank her, in a few months time; they’ll laugh about it, over drinks just like the ones they used to have before Foreman got fired, and when House eventually comes round to the idea of hiring a new rookie they’ll be able impart their experience as words of warning. He’ll be her friend. He’ll thank her. He will.

But it shouldn’t be a crime to enjoy it while it lasts. It is natural to enjoy being desired. It is natural, she thinks, to desire back.

*

As soon as she realises Chase is gone—without even saying goodbye, she notes with a pang of resentment—Cameron gathers her things and stands. It’s an involuntary gesture, like she’s been hit with a reflex hammer; she only realises she’s doing it when Foreman glances over his shoulder and says, “Are you going after him?”

“No,” Cameron says, defensive, vindictive, and she grabs his shoulder. “Come on, I’m going to see House.”

“We need to look at the scan,” Foreman protests, “the patient—“

“Isn’t an emergency,” Cameron cuts him off. She’s surprised at her own ruthlessness, and thinking about last summer: the shifts she pulled in the ER during House’s rehab period, barking orders at nervous residents and triaging car accidents, how nice it had been to be taken at face value and deferred to. How for the first time in years she’d woken up excited and happy to go to work, even off the back of a bad shift. She’s thinking of it, and then she isn’t; she’s thinking about the confused but strangely content look on Chase’s face when he walked in less than two minutes ago, and how something in her stomach had sunk even before he started talking. “If House wants to see the damn scan, he can come down here himself,” she adds, and the flash of guilty concern she feels over his leg is surprising only for its brevity, “I want to know why he fired Chase.”

“You don’t need me for that,” Foreman argues, and she doesn’t know why he’s making things so difficult. He’s gone after this case; he won’t be the one stuck bearing House’s whirlwind moods, the one stuck doing a three-man sounding board job on his own. There’s nothing he needs to hedge his bets on. She’s got it on good authority that he has a job at Mercy all lined up; they called to confirm her peer recommendation four days ago. After everything, Cameron thinks, he can do her this one last favour. Her reasons for wanting it shouldn’t matter.

“House’ll do anything to get you to stay,” Cameron points out. “He’ll explain it to you if he thinks the reason will change your mind.” And you owe me, Cameron does not say, but Foreman must read it in her face anyway, because he relents and gets up to follow her.

“I thought you were the one to end things,” he mutters under his breath on their way out, and Cameron doesn’t have it in her to be mad at Chase for telling him about it. She thinks: I was. She thinks: a stop isn’t the same as the end.

*

“Why did you fire Chase?” Cameron asks, and she does not get her answer. In House’s defence, it isn’t really the question she wants to ask in the first place.

*

Why did you fire Chase? Cameron thinks, as she performs CPR. To the tune of Staying Alive: Why did you fire Chase? Same rhythm, different words: it’s Tuesday, I like you.

*

She catches Wilson in the cafeteria, hair still plastered to her forehead with sweat from the angiogram from hell. He is tucked away in a far corner, like that will somehow shield him from House’s prying eyes, but he’s in luck; House doesn’t seem to be in a social mood. “Hey,” she greets, and she’s surprised at the hoarseness in her own voice. There’s a simple explanation—she’s been shouting orders at nurses and exerting most of her body weight for the past three hours—but to a stranger, it might sound like she’s been crying.

“Hey, Cameron,” Wilson says, looking slightly wary. “What happened?”

“Three hours in surgery,” Cameron says, sliding her tray next to his. “Can I sit?”

“Sure,” Wilson says, clearly doing his best not to look like he wants nothing less. She must stink, she thinks self-consciously. “Another 600lb guy?”

“She’s 110 soaking wet,” Cameron corrects, remembers the manual boat and the salt water sickness at the last second and tries not to cringe at her own insensitivity. “Angiogram went wrong. I’ve been trading off CPR with Foreman.”

“Good lord, it took House that long to agree to put her on bypass?” Wilson double takes. “I told him to do it two hours ago. He’s losing it.”

“About that,” Cameron says. She feels suddenly, absurdly shy; it’s just Wilson, she reminds herself. He is, in a certain light, her friend. She told him about Joe. And even if he reports every detail of this conversation back to House, it doesn’t matter, because all she wants to know is: “Has he told you why he fired Chase?”

“Of course not,” Wilson says dismissively, “which just means it’s all a part of his Foreman-related breakdown. Don’t worry. Cuddy’ll talk both of them into changing their minds, and all three of you will be back to business as usual by next week. Chase’ll just get a weekend of not being on call for once.”

It’s meant to be reassuring. And it is, really. It’s exactly what she wants to hear. It’s the right answer. Nothing else, Cameron thinks, ought to matter.

*

It isn’t stalking if Chase is a creature of habit, Cameron decides as she refreshes her coat of lipstick. He’s taken her to this diner before; he always orders the same burger and fries, always picks out the slivers of raw tomato so he can peel off the skin before putting it back together. “It’s real home-style cooking,” he’d told Cameron before her brought her here, and when they got inside and she saw the full kitschy, Americana-ness of it all, she’d laughed and reminded him that he was Australian. “Well,” he’d dimpled, too smooth to be truly caught out, “it’s home to somebody.”

Anyway, he’s predictable: this is, after all, the guy who re-uses the same stupid shark story over and over again, the guy who has kept the same haircut for as long as she’s known him even as Cameron experimented with bangs and Foreman shaved his head. The only person she knows who is more of a creature of ritualistic habit is House. It’s a Saturday night—he’ll be here. And he is.

Say hello to Chase for me, House had said before she left. Maybe Cameron is predictable too. But there’s a half-moment of pleased surprise on Chase’s face when she sits next to him, the same look he tried to repress the first time she stayed the night, the first time she called him Robert, and the truth is that she didn’t really know if she’d have the guts to come here until she did.

*

“It’s time for a change,” Chase says, and Cameron doesn’t dare breathe, because that isn’t supposed to be his line.

*

“I’ll miss you,” she says, and it doesn’t feel perfunctory, like it did with Foreman. She means it. And the tense is all wrong besides. She misses him already. It is possible, Cameron thinks, that she has been missing him for weeks, and the thought is so terrible that she has to leave as soon as it crosses her mind. She is halfway out to her car when she realises he never returned the sentiment.

*

The facts haven’t changed, just the circumstances. Fact: Cameron spent this week treating a patient with a one-of-a-kind heart defect, and her favourite part was the CPR. Fact: she is tired of pretending that answers are the only things that matter. Fact: a fellowship only runs two years, and Cameron is eighteen months beyond her contract.

Circumstance: Chase is no longer her coworker.

“It’s Tuesday,” Cameron says, Monday evening and wearing her heart on her sleeve. Her resignation letter burns a hole in her pocket, but that can wait. This, Cameron thinks as she leans in, won’t.

[slashthrashandcrash]

question! 🤓☝️ about danny and ramona!

let's say Ghostface never got taken by the fog...what would happen between him and ramona? would she ever find out his secret, maybe by accident? would he be around to watch her grow up?

Hmmmmmm...

Well first I think it depends on what happens to Danny in general. If he's caught one way or another, it kind of throws a wrench in the whole plan, because I don't see him going down without a fight. He will live and die in infamy before they can ever throw him in a cell and try to kill him on their terms.

My belief is that by the time he's in his 40s, roughly ten or so years later, is when he would fully retire Ghostface, provided he hasn't been caught at this point. Age is gonna start catching up with him physically and crime solving technologies are getting more and more advanced which creates a bigger risk, not to mention better surveillance and the rise of the internet. By this point, Ghostface would have been stalking the country for nearly two decades -- he's well cemented his place as a deadly legend and his fame will only grow the longer his crimes go unsolved a la Zodiac Killer and Mr. Cruel. Give it another couple years and there will be a massive resurgence in his popularity when true crime shows/podcast/documentaries/movie recreations become all the rage.

So when it comes to adding Ramona in the mix, his retirement would be right when she's about to head off to college, but I think he would become a more permanent part of her life sometime that she's in high school. The older she gets, the more she's going to understand and be upset by his absence and it's going to be harder for him to keep her 10000% fully on his side as daddy's little girl. He needs to show that he's finally willing to put his "job" aside to be there for her as an actual dad. And surprisingly he does, slowly winding down his Ghostface sprees so that he's home more frequently before they stop altogether.

But it's not being done out of the kindness of his heart, obviously. Like I said, age is creeping into his bones (more than usual lmao), trace DNA analysis is getting better, Ramona is at risk of pulling away from him (which links back to how much DNA profiling is improving given that she'd be a 50% match in a system). He's had a good run, he's willing to quit while he's still ahead...for the most part.

Which means it's time to start groveling and sweet talking his baby mama into proving he's a changed man. He's finally matured, he wants to be a provider for his baby girl while he has the chance, he knows he's been stupid but that's why he's just so grateful for his wonderful ex for all the hard work she's done. It takes a long, long time for her to stop telling Danny to fuck off with his bullshit but...eventually, he does wear her down with the point it only has to be a marriage of convenience on a piece of paper. It's not for him, it's for Ramona, and being a (mostly) single mother for like 14 years by now has to have taken its toll. She can't deny having dual incomes and another parent helping out full time wouldn't ease a lot of her burdens...

They're definitely not in love, it's more like a coparenting roommates situation, but it's good enough for them. They've always had a dysfunctional relationship anyways. So, Danny gets hitched, gets a regular 9-5 job working his way up the ranks of the investigative journalism, and watches his little girl finish out high school and go off to college. And maybe he casually thinks of ways his pseudo-wife could get into some kind of fatal accident. And maybe a few of his business trips were for pleasure rather than work. And maybe he still keeps his mementos and memorabilia stowed away to look upon fondly when the girls are away. Y'know, old habits die hard.

One thing that I think would be so funny however is that if Ramona went off to college in 2003, maybe out of state on a scholarship and Danny went with her to help her move into her new dorm/apartment, while he's scoping out the area he ends up running into some punk former druggie named Amanda...

[sterekchub]

Hi! Love all the ideas, how about a Professor!Derek and Assistant!Stiles. Stiles is secretely bringing food and snacks to Derek's office, making him balloon up, turn into a glutton and eventually become a total slob. Imagine all those suits he would outgrow!

Ooooh. Derek the grumpy professor who is always following every rule to a T, never allows eating in his classes….no assistant wants to be assigned him. Stiles totally takes that as a challenge.

(I can also see maybe Stiles as a science undergrad who is sneaking those extra calories and his new appetite stimulating projects into Derek’s morning coffee).

Goes from “I’m not eating donuts, Stiles. Those are all sugar.”

To stuffing one in his mouth when his stomach suddenly growls mid lecture.

Most lectures? He’s sweating and trying not to turn red as Stiles does his best to embarrass him him.

***

“Better eat up, Professor. I want to see those buttons pop.”

Derek spends the rest of his class behind the podium to hide his arousal. Even worse- three classes later, two of his shirt buttons go clattering to the ground.

***

“If you’ll check the syllabus you’ll see *BUAAARP*” Derek turns bright red and apologies. When the class leaves he glares at Stiles.

“How is that my fault!”

“I asked for a coffee this morning and you brought me that- that cream filled thing!”

“Ummm it’s a frappe and you loved it.”

***

Derek coming and brushing powdered sugar off the front of his shirt, resting a hand on his belly and sighing like he doesn’t know how it got there.

“Had breakfast without me?”

“I was up early.” Derek lied.

“Guess you’re too full for these, then!” He barely pulls out the box of pastries from Derek’s favorite bakery before one is being snatched away.

***

Derek starts going from eating between classes, to eating during class. Stiles is holding back his laughter hanging back papers that have Derek’s chip dust, chicken finger grease fingers prints on them.

Stiles stands in the back the class one day and take a picture of Derek standing at his usual podium. Shows it to him after class- Derek’s gotten wide enough that both sides stick out past it. Derek….finds it hotter than he should and ends up fucking Stiles against the desk, the entire time Stiles staring at the picture.

***

The lecture Derek has to cancel midway through because Stiles took him to a lunch buffet first, and kept pushing him to eat more and more…Derek used to try and eat decently well in the campus cafeteria but Stiles has been pushing Derek to eat worse than a college frat boy, and Derek so easily gives in, knowing all that junk will leave him gassy all day.

Derek waddles into his class and is about 10 minutes in when he feels his bloated stomach start groaning and churning…

“Um…family emergency I need to leave, sorry, do the reading I’ll see you next week.” He lies, gritting his teeth and clenching as best he can as students file out.

“Sounds serious,” Stiles laughs.

Derek lets out a huge exhale. “Fuck ...*Pffpffrttt*... off.”

He waddles off to the bathroom with Stiles still laughing behind him.

****

The classes he teaches in front of the class with his belly hanging out of his shirt.

The day he was running late and had spent too many nights with Stiles (which meant being stuffed and rimmed until he couldn’t think straight) so his laundry pile was high and his pile of “clothes I’m too fat for” was even higher, so he had to grab a coffee stained shirt and pants that wouldn’t button and hope for the best…

****

Derek struggling to fit into the classroom door and Stiles has to keep giving his backside a solid shove.

The times Derek lost a bet to Stiles and before class began- had to guzzle down as many milkshakes as he could. Spends the entire lecture gassy and belching every other word, milkshake still stuck in his beard..

The walk to his classroom starting to leave Derek winded and sweaty…and Stiles plays innocent but his suit jacket is missing and he’s forced to teach the class with a shirt missing a button and far too small, and very obvious sweat stains.

Eventually Derek ends up teaching from a seat in the front of the class, ass hanging off the chair, food in one hand, notes in another….students can barely hear a word he’s saying over the munching and crunching and belches and burps….but hey- perks of having tenure!

And then of course the day the his chair let out an awful creaking noise seconds before Derek is sent tumbling to the ground.

“You *BRRRPPphh* said *Plbllpffttt* the weight limit was *urrRPPphh*six- BlllffftTT* six-hundred.”

Stiles helps him to his feet, hands buried in his fleshy sides. “You’re the professor…figure it out!”

[griefabyss69]

Congrats on the 100 followers!!!

I'd like to request the prompt 'chocolate' everything else is up to you 💜

Haha remember when I said I could get SO romantic with this prompt? Well I didn't <3 <3 <3

Stommy + Carol - Rated: M - 573 Words College AU where they're all still friends but like more 🤙🍫 (Full thing under the cut)

It starts with Tommy waving his fingers in Steve's face.

He’s got melted chocolate on them; it's summer-hot out, Tommy's hands are always warm, and he took the whole bar out of the wrapper to hold while he ate it.

He's laughing, acting like he's gonna touch Steve's face and get it all gross, and Steve’s acting like it’s not bothering him even though he literally just showered a half hour ago after practice, and he doesn't want to have to wash his face for like the hundredth time today.

Though with all of the sweat, he might.

It's a few days away from the end of their freshman year of college, both of them somehow landed at the same place, even though Tommy's grades fucking sucked and Steve barely even thought about any of his applications. But it’s too hot even for May.

"What're you gonna do?" Tommy asks, his smirk too goofy looking to be threatening even though Steve knows he would, and would smear it in his hair too if he got the impulse.

He doesn't answer, just gives him a disinterested look, trying to replicate the ice in Carol's eyes since she's not here to glare at him.

There's a little twist in his heart when he thinks about that, thinks about how she fucking smacked their heads together and kissed both of them on the lips before snapping her gum, the kind of smirk on her face that Tommy wishes he could pull off.

She'd said goodbye and gotten into her car and drove off to the hot-smart-rich-girl University she was breaking hearts at right now.

Tommy hadn't even been mad she kissed Steve, they had broken up on paper so they both could, as Tommy put it, "fuck around without all of the drama", but he had stared at Steve's mouth for way too long after Carol's car was out of sight.

Steve thinks about that, and it’s his gut twisting this time as he glances at Tommy before opening his mouth and sucking two of his fingers into his mouth.

"Jesus! Steve!" Tommy shouts, going stiller than Steve's seen him maybe ever.

He just makes eye contact and sucks harder, using his tongue to start to clean him off, like he does to his own fingers after he's finished making a date cum. Tommy's gaping at him, hand frozen as he lets him do this, a hot flush coming out to mingle with the freckles over his face.

It's not really a stalemate, clearly Steve's the one here hip-checking the knight or whoever the special winning piece is, but it probably looks like one even with the way Tommy presses his fingers in further.

Steve wishes he could telepathically communicate just so he could antagonize him about that with his mouth full.

But he can't so he just sucks, flicks the tip of his tongue over the web between his fingers.

Eventually Tommy pulls his fingers out, maybe his brain finally started working again or he just decided he wasn't gonna win that one, but he stares down at his hand, two fingers still messy with chocolate and two just absolutely covered in Steve's spit.

Steve palms himself while he's not looking, tries to adjust himself in his shorts to hide the way he’s aching right now.

"Uh," Tommy says, looking back up at him, holding his hand out. "Can you do that with the rest?"

[manchurian-barnes]

Coffee Shop Blues and Red FINALE (Peter Parker x F! Reader)

Post NWH - Collage Peter!

Busy nights filled with college course work, leads to late nights in a crappy coffee shop, the only perk? Friendly neighbourhood company.

To keep updated heres the Series Masterlist and for my other works, you can find My Masterlist Here!

Two hours. You'd been waiting two hours...and honestly it was past the point of freaking out. You were angry, and you felt guilty over feeling angry, and then you felt worried and guilty that you hadn't felt guilty first off. Two hours, sitting in a silky dress watching the news for updates as your date, quite literally was off saving the world.

"C'mon man!" Peter yelled as he jumped to another building, scorpion jumping after him and slamming his stinger into the bricks making them glow with his green poison. "Let me finish this then araña-" The psycho called back at him. Peter stood on the edge of the building with his hands on his hips. "Now, why would i let you poison me and the people of NYC Gargon?! Logic please-" He sassed back as he webbed the stinger and tried to pull it off. "If you just go to the raft tonight without a fight-maybe you make parole!" He yelped as the scorpion grabbed him by the leg and threw him into the middle of the street. He literally dented the middle of the road. Letting out a pained yell of "IVE GOT A DATE MAN!"

It was midnight when you heard a thud on your window. Forcing it up with a gasp when you saw the state of him. "Get in here-Oh my god Peter you should be at a hospital-" You scolded. He didn't respond he just shushed you. He pulled a battered flower from behind him. "S-Sorry, I missed our date...I have a good reason-" "Scorpion was trying to poison the population of the city with hallucinogenic?" You answered for him. Holding his arms and guiding him to lay on the couch. Hooking the side of his mask and tugging it off. "Tell me what I need to do here Pete-" You begged him.

It took a while but eventually you got the hang of stitching him up, every gash on his chest and arms. Leaving him to get a hot flannel and clean off most of the blood. He looked to you, studying your face as your hand ran back and forth across his chest. "I bet you thought the first time you'd see me shirtless would be more exciting-" He coughed out a laugh. "Who said this isn't exciting?" You let out, voice flatter. He took note of that, "I swear I was on my way-" "I believe you..." He caught your wrist in his hands. "y/n this is sometimes the reality...gimme a day and I'll heal up nice-" "You think this is putting me off?" You laughed for a moment. Leaning down, looking into his eyes, free hand reaching up to push his hair back, eyes tracing his face, staying on his lips for a moment.

"You wanna sleep here?" You asked him. He shook his head, "Ill swing home-" "I have a bed-" "a spare?" He asked softly. "No, I was thinking we just share my bed...so that if you need me...you can y'know just nudge." You chuckled. He took in a sharp breath in a bed with you all night...how was this not playing out the way he wanted it to?!

It didn't take long for peter to fall asleep, however you stayed up, watching him, caressing the side of his face to settle any discomfort as he slept. You'd never seen him up so close...he couldn't sleep...peacefully...always seemed to stir unless your hand was on his chest, anchoring him down a bit. His heart beating as steadily as you figured it could given the circumstances of this evening.

When Peter finally woke up, he was dazed and mildly confused as to why you weren't beside him. "y/n? are you there? Y/n-" he paused when you came around the doorframe. "You snore." You stated with a small chuckle, walking to the bed and laying back down beside him. His hand went to the side of your face and he just stared into your eyes for a while and he smiled at you, making your heart want to burst. "Thank you…I will make it up to you…" He promised. Laughing at the way you rolled your eyes at it. You leaned against his hand, enough to turn to kiss his palm. Making Peter's heart burst a bit. "I want flowers and chocolates-" You teased, and he found enough strength to push himself up on one arm and lean down to you. "Anything you want…you got it." To punctuate he kissed your forehead and just lingered there. "You got a shitty first date huh?" He whispered…mad at himself honestly.

You gave him an old t-shirt to wear and he just used his suit around his waist as trousers. Spending the day with you, laying on the couch. You didn’t complain, not once about having to nurse him. You just did everything you could to make him comfortable. Ending up with your head on his shoulder. "So, where will we go, on this redo first date?" you asked him. He chuckled.

"I know this really good coffee shop."

End Of The Series! - Thanks to everyone who has followed and supported this series, hopefully you’ve enjoyed it enough to drop a follow to see when my next one comes out! if I ever decide to write more...

If you enjoyed this series and are curious to see more of my works you can find them on My Masterlist!