#oh that's right i like to avoid my real-life responsibilities

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

We bleed together

a/n you want pain!? I'll give you pain. The person who requested this is responsible for the damage.

summary: what if the last day of humanity was different? What if instead of loosing Sarah, Joel lost you - the mother of his two children and the person who had built him up to a better man.

warnings: car crash, blood, injuries, wounds, death ahh I would say medium emotional damage

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"And then one more", you spun around, making the baby giggle in your hands, "And one more", you twirled around, smiling to yourself as yet another giggle filled the still-empty kitchen. Emma was one giddy baby. For a five-month-old, she was extremely alert, her curiosity driving her to look around as much as she could. If only her body was strong enough, she would be crawling around day and night. Following Sarah around or any of you for that instant. Sarah barely left her side. You were worried at first about her reaction. Sure, you had been there almost from the start, helping Joel take care of her, and she was like your own daughter, but still. You had plenty of conversations about her biological mother. You understood her desire to know. To ask questions. To understand.

"She didn't want me, right? I was the problem", you were halfway through your pregnancy when this conversation surfaced again. Putting down the baby sweater that you were just folding, you motioned for Sarah to come in. She had become more avoidant once you started showing. The reality started to kick in, and it pained her that the baby was going to have a real and normal family.

"You were never the problem, my beam of light", you cupped her face lovingly, whipping away some of the tears that had started rolling down Sarah's cheeks. "But… she didn't love me like you love your baby", "Oh, Sarah", you pulled her closer to your chest, "I've loved you from the moment I saw you kicking around in that makeshift crib your dad had going on". Running your hand through Sarah's curls, you made her turn to you. "You've been my special girl since then. I love you and the baby the same. There are no differences to me between you two. Sure, you and I don't share DNA, but, like, who cares about that?", she shrugged her shoulders. Biting her lip as she tried to stop the tears. "You promise you won't leave?", Sarah crocked out, big brown eyes searching yours. It broke your heart so much, but you understood her. Her fear of losing a mother figure. Her dad needing to go through this alone again. You took both of her hands in yours, squeezing them, "I would never dream of it; you are my world".

Joel couldn't help the smile that spread across his face, especially once the baby caught sight of her father in the archway, kicking her little legs happily. The sudden burst of excitement made you turn your head to the side, "Ah, so dad is the one you get all happy for, huh", You nuzzled your face into Emma's neck, leaving endless amounts of kisses there and making her squeal happily. "She's a daddy's girl, aren't you?", Joel walked closer to you, hand reaching instantly for the smallest Miller. Emma's babbles filled the kitchen as she told her dad all the stories she could. "Honestly, rude. When both of our kids are like that", "Maybe I'm just more awesome", you let out a fake gasp, your hand coming up your chest. Joel smirked before giggling to himself. "No, sir, soon you'll be going to work without birthday sandwiches", you warned him, and Joel instantly lifted his free hand in the air defensively.

It felt surreal this morning for some reason. Joel had laid in bed awake for some time just thinking. Thinking about Sarah's mother. Thinking about you. About how his life had shifted once you stepped in. How much he valued the love you gave Sarah. How much he valued you going through a tough pregnancy to bring another baby girl into this world. Joel wondered if you knew. Knew how much he loved you. It wasn't just love. It was his whole existence. You were his rock, as he was yours. But he knew, Joel was convinced, that it was all thanks to you that he found purpose in life again.

"We can't have mommy mad", Joel mumbled to Emma, ticking her stomach. He moved closer to you while you were cutting up the vegetables. Leaning in to press a kiss on your shoulder, then another. Before a whole line of kisses was drawn from your shoulder up to your temple. You giggled, loving the slight tickle of Joel's beard against your skin. "I love you so much", Joel muttered, bringing you closer to his chest as his hand sneaked around your waist. You leaned back into him smiling, "Not as much as I love you, birthday boy", you cupped his cheeks, moving into Joel's embrace so you could place your lips on his. "The best mama ever", he muttered in between kisses, "And best wife to be", those words made your heart flutter a little. God, you loved this man, and you couldn't wait to be a Miller soon. You deepened the kiss just a little.

"Seriously? In front of a baby?", Sarah's voice made you two tear apart quickly. "You're officially out of the age to say ew when your parents kiss", Joel chirped, turning to his older daughter, who was rolling her eyes. "Yeah, but Em isn't, so don't be disgusting, right Em?", Sarah reached for her sister, whom Joel had carefully placed in her little high chair. Her little fist tightened and wrapped around Sarah's finger. You place the plates with food on the table.

"Tommy?", you ask, but Joel shrugged his shoulders. "Probably left early," strange, you thought to yourself as you slipped into the chair next to everyone. "So, how old are you again?", Sarah asked, mouth full of food. "Thirty-six", the girl shook her head, making you giggle. "Hate to break it to you, dad, but dippers are in the near future", she teased, but Joel only hummed, "Who said I ain't wearing one now?". Sarah let out a laugh, which Emma mimicked, making you smile. "Well, at least now I know why Em's diapers are disappearing", you said ž, making them both let out a laugh.

You wished you could freeze moments like this. Where you all were laughing. Where nothing bothered you all. "Don't forget to get the cake on your way back", you reminded Joel, who instantly hummed, "I will don't worry", he muttered, and Sarah sent him a warning look that he returned by leaning across the table to cup her cheeks and placing kisses all over her face. She squirmed in her dad's hands until she couldn't contain the laughter anymore.

Joel came back to a dark house. He wasn't expecting anything else, considering that he was three hours late coming back. He knew you would forget him for skipping his birthday dinner. It was Sarah, whom he knew must be upset. And letting her down was his biggest fear in life. Joel tried to move past the hallway as quietly as possible, stopping only when he noticed a light coming from the living room. Sarah was fast asleep with her head laying on your lap, your eyes were tired as you held Emma close to your chest. The light sounds of her suckling and the television playing were the only noise in the room. Joel couldn't help but smile slightly. He will never be able to get tired of a sight like this.

"Am I in deep shit?", you blinked a couple of times, shaking your head, "You can't even imagine Miller". Joel sat down next to you, lips instantly moving to kiss the side of your head, hand reaching to support Emma, who was happily eating, her tiny hand holding onto the pendant necklace that Joel had gotten you. It had four gold-plated letters. All the first letters of your little family's names.

"Don't overthink it. She'll understand eventually. Sarah wants your presence more than that cake anyway,", you reassured him, already feeling him slip into his mind. You knew Joel best. You knew how much he cared. The family was always first, and his working hours were so hectic just because he wanted to give you all the best. "I know. I will… I'll squeeze in a free day, and we can all just have a day to ourselves", Joel muttered, and you leaned closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Have I told you lately that you are the love of my life?", he asked all of a sudden, making you look back up at him. "Well, I would freaking hope to be", you teased him, moving to nuzzle closer to him once more. Joel let out a light chuckle, "But you have; you always remind me of that. Because you are the best fiancé and father ever", you muttered sleepily. Joel's warmth dangerously lulled you into a slumber.

The sound of what appeared to be a military helicopter flying over the house woke you up. You frowned, reaching over for Joel only to find his side of the bed empty. You quickly sat up, looking at the bassinet that stood by the side of your bed. Breathing out a sigh of relief when you saw Emma fast asleep there. Lights from outside were illuminating the room. It seemed like the search troops were out. What the heck was happening? The sight of a paper note caught your attention next. You picked it up quickly. It was Joel's handwriting on it: "Needed to go bail Tommy out. I'll be back as soon as I can. Love you, J.

The sound of footsteps approaching made you grab a book off your bedside table. Something was wrong, and you could just feel it. You could feel it deep in your gut. "Mom, dad", Sarah's voice filled your ears, right before another helicopter flew by. "Cone here, darling", Sarah threw the door open, rushing to you as she jumped onto the bed. "What's going on?", she asked, as your eyes fell over the window. "I don't know,", you muttered, "But daddy will be home soon, and we'll figure it out, okay?", You cupped her cheek tenderly, giving Sarah a light smile. You stood up and opened the wardrobe, pulling out a wrap-around carrier. Quickly draping it over your body, you leaned to pick up the smallest addition to the family, tucking her close to your chest. Now more than thankful that she was a deep sleeper, a gift from Joel.

"Come on, let's see if there's something on TV,", you said, reaching for Sarah's hand. The commotion outside only made the anxiety more and more intense. "Where is dad?", Sarah asked as you walked down the stairs. "He went to get your uncle". It wasn't the first time, so Sarah didn't ask any more questions. She knew it meant that Tommy had once again gotten into trouble. Something that made her dad rather frustrated most of the time.

All the channels were turned off, the only thing on TV was a warning. "Indoors, law enforcement and emergency services are in the area and will be in contact with further instructions", your hand was still holding onto Sarah when the sound of something hitting the window made you both jump. The barking filled your ears next, and you let out a shaky breath. Sarah instantly rushed towards the doors. "No, get back here", you called after the girl, but she was already opening the door, sinking to her knees as she petted the dog. "Easy, easy, Mercy. What are you doing out here, boy?", Sarah looked around the street, the chilly nighttime air hitting her cheeks. She moves to step closer to the street, but you were quick to hold onto her arm. "Get back inside," you said, "But what if ms. Adler…", she tried to argue, but your grip on her hand only tightened.

"I said inside", you tugged at her hand right as another person or whatever that was stumbled into the street. It twitched awkwardly before starting to dart in your direction. You moved Sarah behind you. "Go, go, go", you shouted before, pushing her into the house, closing the door behind you. Pressing all of your body weight against the door. Eyes closed as your body started to shake. Where was Joel? Where was he? The baby lets out a whine. Your hand instantly moved to rub up and down her tiny back, hoping to soothe her into sleep.

"Mom", Sarah calls out. You lifted your eyes to see her teary ones, instantly reaching for her, "Come here baby. We're okay", "What was that?". You pressed her to your side, kissing her head a couple of times. You wished you could answer, but you couldn't. "I don't know, baby, I don't know", you nudged her closer to yourself. Banging on the doors got louder, and a part of you was telling you to move to somewhere safer to at least get the girls safe. But you couldn't move. So crippled by anxiety. You just sat there with silent tears falling down your cheeks. Then a shot rang out, making you flinch. And then there was silence.

"Y/N", you let out a cry at Joel's voice that filled your ears from the other side of the door. Sarah was the one to stand up fist, quickly reaching for the handle, giving you just enough time to move slightly as she yanked the doors open. Joel stepped in, his hands reaching for Sarah instantly as he looked her over for any sign of injuries, "You're not hurt, baby girl?", he asked her. Sarah shook her head. "Dad, what's going on?", but Joel said nothing as his eyes fell on you. Crying on the floor, hands wrapped around your baby. He crossed the distance between you in a couple of steps. Kneeling beside you, "Joel…", you cried out, and he instantly brought your body closer to his, weary of the baby between you but making sure you could physically feel that he was there, "I've got you dove, come on, we need to move now".

Joel's arm moved to steady you from behind as he helped you up. Tommy was by Sarah's side, gun in hand, as he walked her towards the car. You barely made it down the front porch stairs as someone ran out of the Adler's house. You all froze in place, and Tommy hiked up the gun. "Get in the truck now", Joel roared, briefly turning to you and Sarah. But there was little time to think as the woman's body twitched and, with an unhuman-like growl, she started crawling towards you.

"What are we doing, Joel?", Tommy's voice rang out, but Joel didn't answer. With the tool in his hand, he swung his arm. He hit the old lady straight on the head, and her body fell to the ground. It was a split-second decision. A decision that had both you and Sarah staring at Joel because you had never… Never seen him this way. Never seen so much anger. Never seen this kind of violence. You didn't even know that Joel was capable of that.

"You killed her", Sarah whispered, pulling you out of your trance. Joel stepped to her, cupping her cheek, "Baby, I'm sorry", wrapping his arms around her, embracing her. "Joel, we need to move", Tommy said in a worried tone, now moving to grab your hands as he walked you toward the car. "You're okay?", he asked you as he opened the door, making sure you didn't hit your head. His hand lingered on his niece's back, her big brown eyes now staring at him. You nodded your head. What else were you supposed to do? "We'll get out of here", Tommy said firmly, rubbing his thumb on Emma's cheek. You turned to Joel and Sarah; he was still holding onto her. Her cheeks were stained with tears.

"Listen to me, it's not just the Adlers, but we need to be brave; we will get out of this together", Joel said to her before opening the door for her. An explosion rocked the street meters away from you. Both Miller brothers were quick to shield you, baby, and Sarah. Emma's cries echoed through the empty street now. You met Joel's eyes briefly. Eyes that were also scared. Worried eyes. "Let's go, guys, we need to go", Tommy jumped in the driver's seat before starting the car.

Sarah was silently crying beside you. Crying alongside Emma. You tried to soothe both of their fears, but with your anxiety being so high, you knew that you could try to hide it all you wanted - they could still feel it. The frantic driving and Joel's shouting at Tommy didn't help much. You pressed Sarah closer to you, her arm falling over Emma's body. You started to hum one of the lullabies. The lullaby that had followed Sarah through her childhood. The one even she sometimes hummed to her little sister if she took over the nap duties. "And in the darkest of nights, the stars shine bright above us. Sleep tight, little one; let the light calm you", you hummed softly. Rocking both of them in your embrace.

The world was falling apart. Houses were on fire. There was so much screaming. "What if it's everywhere?", Sarah muttered, looking up at you. "We'll find a safe place. Remember what your dad told you? We need to be just a tiny bit braver tonight", you said, meeting Tommy's gaze right as he looked up. A plane flew over the car. "The fuck", the younger Miller cursed while watching the ship sway in the sky. "Keep going", Joel encouraged his brother. His arms slipped toward the back. Joel's fingers were running up and down your calve. His way of grounding himself, of making sure that you knew he was there. That he still had this under control. That he was going to get you all out of here.

The chaos was like nothing you had seen before. The screams. The cries. People were running in front of cars. Hitting the sides as they fell. The streets were full. It all felt like a blur and the worst nightmare all at once. Sarah's grip on your hand was deadly. Your fingers had found Joel's hand as you leaned forward. Tommy started to move out of the street. You felt a tug on your hand. Sarah's eyes were gazing through the back window. "Dad" she whispered, "Dad!", this time the word came out more firm and loud. You only managed to see another airplane flying right at you. Then came the crash. The sound of static. Everything moved at lightning speed. You caved into yourself. Hoping to provide as much shelter for the infant with my body, and then everything went black for a moment.

Joel had never been more scared than the moment he crawled out of the car that was now lying on its roof and found your unconscious body covered in bits of glass and blood. Emma's cries soothed him almost; at least he knew she was alive. Sarah moved as well, and Joel let out a somewhat relieved breath. "Babe", Joel touched your leg, but you didn't move. He inched closer, dragging you out of the car by your shoulders. The moment Joel tugged on your hand, your eyes snapped open with a cry.

"Hey, I've got you", he tried to sound calm, but the sight of the blood trickling down the side of your face made him want to tear the whole world apart. Joel pulled Sarah out of the car as well before turning his attention to you. "Does something hurt?", "My shoulder, I think I…", you hissed when Joel's finger came in contact with your skin. "Give me, Em. Sarah, can you walk, baby?", Joel was loosening the carrier from around your body as he gazed at his firstborn. The girl nodded, and you ripped the side of the carry. Crawling toward Sarah and reaching for her ankle. "I'll wrap it tight, okay; it might feel uncomfortable, but you'll be able to move for now", "Mom, your head", she mumbled, fingers reaching for the blood, but you stopped her quickly. "It's nothing, darling. You focus on staying close to us, okay?"

Tommy came up from the other side, glancing over his shoulder. "The military trucks are here; you need to move; go towards the river; I'll meet you there", Tommy said, Joel rocked Emma in his arms as she screamed her little lungs out. She, too, felt the threat without the warmth of your skin. Tommy shrugged off his jacket, draping it over Joel, before helping you stand. "I'll see y'all there", he ushered you to move. "You stay safe", you said to him, and he only nodded. Regardless of his stumbles in life, Tommy was a good man. A loving brother-in-law. Someone whom you cherished. Cherished so deeply. But you couldn't let your sentiments get the better of you now. You needed to get your babies out of this mess. Get them somewhere safe. So you grabbed Sarah's hand, and so did Joel, and you all ran.

The river bank was practically a hand's reach away. Sarah was limping badly. You knew her leg was going to give up at any moment. You pulled her closer to you so she could lean more of her weight on you. Ignoring the pain that shot through your shoulder. Whispering words of encouragement to her. "Stop right there", a male's voice called out. Joel brought you all to a halt as the light from a gun darted onto your body. "We are not infected. My family got into a car crash", yet you could tell that the soldier didn't care about it whatsoever as he inched closer. "I have four civilians by the river. The female is covered in blood, girl limping", he said coldly into the radio, gun still pointed your way. "Please, we", "Shut up", the male roared, and you instantly pushed Sarah behind you. "Joel…", your hand held onto his forearm, but your eyes didn't leave the person in front of you. Something in your gut twisted. A sense of dread almost pulled you down.

"If something happens", "Y/N, don't…", you yanked at Joel's arm, firmly gaping at him. "You fucking take them and run", you muttered through gritted teeth. "Hey, no one told you to move", the soldier shouted, and you moved to face him again. The sound of your breathing was the only sound you could hear as your hand came up over Joel's hip, and you moved forward. The gunfire pierced the air. The echo was almost unbearable. Freezing. Static. Joel must have dragged you to the side after the first shot rang out, making you all tumble down the hill.

All Joel could hear was Em crying and a couple more shots ringing out. He needed to think quickly. He needed to come up with a plan. "Mommy", Sarah's shaky breath followed by a scream, was what got Joel to look up. And he wished he hadn't. He wished this was a dream. Maybe it was? His worst nightmare? What if he pinched himself? Make it all disappear. Make it all stop. "Joel", Tommy called out, reaching for the crying baby, and the moment the girl was out of his hands, Joel was moving towards you, falling over himself but moving to you.

"Hey, hey, love", he muttered. You had two gunshot wounds on both sides. The blood had already soaked your clothes. Sarah's had her hands pressed against your skin as she shook. "Listen to me, Y/N; I'll get you out; I'll make it", but you moved your hand up, gripping his arm. Lips pressed together as you tried to keep yourself from screaming in pain. You had to. For your girls.

Your eyes fell on Em in Tommy's arms; her bright pink cheeks were visible in the night. Your little angel baby. Your girl that you will never get to see grow up. She might not even remember you. You were going to be a distant memory. Just how Sarah's mom was to her. Sarah looked at the blood seeping through your skin. You reached for her, making her eyes snap at your face.

You pulled the last bits of your strength so you would smile at her, "I love you, sun-shine", you breathed out, and burning pain shot through your body, making you close your eyes. "Mommy, please. I… don't… please", she said, moving to wrap her hands around your neck. You breathed in her flowery scent, feeling your eyes burn with tears. Knowing very well that this was the last time you were going to feel her touch and smell her, "Let… mommy and daddy have a moment", you pleaded. Feeling your body starting to crash already. You didn't want her to see you fade away. No. The blood. Everything from tonight was already too much. She shook her head, but Joel grabbed her hands and moved them away from your blood, saying, "Go to Tommy, baby girl".

Joel, however, moved back to pressing down on your wounds for dear life. Even if he could tell, it was hopeless. He couldn't. He couldn't and was not about to let go. "Joel..", you cried out, and he instantly moved your body closer to his. Pulling you against his chest, "Don't go; don't die; you can't die", he croaked out, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. "Hold me", you whispered, feeling the metallic taste in your mouth getting stronger, "I'm here, love. I've got you", Joel pulled you even closer to him, savoring the last bits of your warmth. He hoped it would have been him dying here. It should have been because you three would have been fine with Tommy. But with you gone… What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to live?

"I lo-ve…", "I love you too; I love you so much", your grip on his arm started to loosen as your body shook. Joel got to meet your eyes one more time. He got to capture the depth and warmth of them that he knew he wanted to remember for the rest of his miserable life. "It's okay, it's okay", more blood poured from your mouth. Your big, worried eyes eased. Joel's rocking stayed the same. As if he were swaying you to sleep. As if you two were back home, back in your bedroom, and you had just had a bad dream. A bad dream that Joel was desperate to chase away. "I will always love you. There will never be anyone to replace you. My heart is yours; I'm bleeding with you, dove", he said through the tears.

Then you took a breath in. A surprisingly smooth breath in. Joel looked down at your face. And with a final exhale, your body let go, and the weight of you in Joel's hands told him loud and clear that you were gone. He looked up at the sky, at the stars that shone brightly despite the complete chaos. His body shook with a sob, a sob that guided your soul away from this world. A sob with which a part of Joel died. You took it as you went, and he was never going to be the same.

Tommy didn't rush Joel. Couldn't bring himself to. Sarah was crying with her head buried in her uncle's shoulder, and Emma's choking sobs followed suit. Joel held you till your body was ice cold. His eyes had dried, and he was staring ahead of himself, but he saw nothing. The same darkness that danced within his heart was now dancing all around him. He took your hand into his, carefully taking off the engagement ring from your finger before doing the same with the necklace. He needed something. He needed something from you that he could carry with him.

With you in his arms, Joel stood up. His legs were shaking, but he stepped forward. Tommy rose as well, "Joel, you can't… ", he tried to stop his brother. He understood that parting with your lifeless body was hard, but Joel couldn't carry you around. "We're going", Joel said dryly, as he moved past them. Sarah managed to brush her fingers over your cold skin as her father walked past. "You can't", Tommy tried again, but Joel turned back around, looking feral. "I said we MOVE,", he barked out, making Sarah shiver, and Em only cried more. "Dad,", the older girl tried, but Joel paid her no mind. He couldn't, not now. Acknowledging her would mean that he would have to face reality. And he couldn't. He couldn't fall apart. Especially not now. A shield of coldness embraces Joel as he continues walking through the dark field, still feeling your blood dripping off his hands. Dead.

[sacharinee]

pranking peter asking him to try not to annoy you today has me crying

pairing: bf!peter parker x reader

w/c: 600

a/n: hiii anon thank u very much for requesting! based on that trend on tiktok :)

you’re feeling mean today.

after waking up so early, you’ve scrolled through countless videos of girls pranking their boyfriends with just a simple line, and seeing their priceless reactions.

and what better use of your time than to prank your ever so lovely boyfriend.

you’re up in the bathroom, washing your face and getting your makeup done for the day when peter walks in to greet you.

“g’morning baby,” he mumbles and wraps an arm around the side of your hip, sloppily kissing the side of your forehead.

you take a look at him through the mirror. he’s got bedhead, his curly hair all messy, shirt wrinkled, and he’s rubbing his squinty eyes from the bright lights. his cute little pout makes your heart skip a beat and you almost feel bad for what you’re about to do. 

“hi petey,” you greet, you’ve got your brush in one hand, blending out the makeup on your skin.

and he’s reaching for his toothbrush, squirting some toothpaste on when he asks you, “d’you sleep good?”

“it was okay,” you respond with a shrug.

“just okay? what happened, y/n/n?" he asks, his voiced laced with concern.

you tap your fingernails on the countertop as you take a deep breath, “look, pete, i have a big day ahead, so can you just try not to annoy me today please?”

peter freezes as his jaw goes slack with the toothbrush in his mouth. his eyes stare up at you in shock and confusion while you’re none the wiser, looking straight ahead, curling your lashes up closely against the mirror, “what’d you say?”

you let out a sigh as you switch out the curler for mascara, “i said, try not to get on my nerves today.”

"today? but the day just started," he's dumbfounded when he looks at you.

you shrug in response, "still. you've been really annoying lately."

you resist from looking at peter. one quick glance and you know you would break.

“oh…” the boy mumbles, looking down at the sink confused, trying so hard to figure out where he went wrong, “m’ sorry.” you feel like a monster.

but when peter steps back to sneak a peek at you, he notices your uncomfortable stance. you’re squeamish, biting your lip, as you avoid eye contact with him. 

his eyes narrow down at your figure, “and how exactly have i annoyed you lately?”

you take a second to think of a example, “just, everything. like right now, when you ruined my makeup or when you’re asking me stupid questions.”

“stupid questions? ruined your makeup? wait, what, you mean when i kissed you good morning??” your boyfriend laughs in amusement. 

“m’ just saying.” 

“huh okay,” peter spits the toothpaste out in the sink, “you wanna talk about silly questions?" he wipes his mouth with a rag and turns towards you, gets up real close to the side of your face.

you pinch your brows towards him, “what are you-”

“who was the one that asked me if italy was in spain?”

“peter-”

“or if milan was in germany?”

“are you ser-”

“or if australia and austria were the same thing?”

“peter!”

“i’m just saying!” he’s mocking you, a smug smirk on his face, and he knows he’s got you.

“yea whatever, einstein,” you bump him out of the way wanting to use the mirror next. you’re crabby your little prank backfired while peter’s having the time of his life, laughing at your embarrassment. 

he stands behind you wrapping his big arms around your front and resting his chin down on your shoulder. he’s got this irritating sardonically sweet smile on his face that makes you wanna kiss or slap it off, you can’t decide. he’s gazing with loving eyes at you’re adorably grumpy pout in the mirror and kissing the side of face, smudging your makeup once more.

“it’s okay baby, you can get on my nerves all you want.”

[hertenskylarks]

More 2 Cents on S3

So, I know there’s already a lot of talk going around. Here’s my 2 cents. 

In light of the recent news, I keep hearing a lot of “Oh, I hope the third season doesn’t get canceled,” and “Oh, I hope it does. Fuck Gaiman,” and “Oh, what about Terry’s vision? What about the fans? What about closure?”

I have absolutely zero control as to whether or not season 3 is made. Many arguments for and against it have already been made. I don't want to beat a dead horse, but I will offer this perspective from my own personal experience. 

I’m a swing dancer, and my rapist was my teacher and one of the first people who ever taught me how to dance. One of the things that made me hesitant to come forward was that he was one of the most likable characters in my scene. He was the funny, goofy guy who wore funky printed shirts, he was sooo nice, he couldn’t possibly be a rapist, right? Right?

Seeing people praise him, hearing people talk about how great he is when I knew what he did to me… It drove me absolutely mad. I just wanted to shake people and say, “No, you don’t understand! You don’t understand who he is!” But I felt like I just couldn't. I felt his reputation was too iron-clad to say anything.

Coming forward was one of the scariest things I ever did because I was so sure people either wouldn't believe me or wouldn't care. And, as predicted, that was the case for some. You can only imagine how I felt when someone I used to call my friend went on to have him officiate her wedding. You can only imagine how I felt when the response from the organizers of the dance scene was to ask me to avoid mentioning Y-Town Swing in social media posts (Oops) to protect their reputation. You can only imagine how I felt when they continued to have him as a teacher, or when they updated their safe space policy to say they are not responsible for anything that happens “outside a Y-Town swing event.” 

Oh, so if he raped me in the bathroom at the event instead it would have made a difference? Right, sorry, didn't realize the location or a rape mattered that much.

Anyway…

This was all in the confines of a small dance scene, in a small city, in a very niche hobby. Now, imagine how it must feel when your rapist and abuser is a fucking best selling author, praised as this ally to women and LGBT people, he’s the quirky guy who has a Tumblr and actually responds to his fans and he’s so cool, he’s one of us, he can’t possibly be a rapist, right? Right?

I can only imagine how fucking mad it drove his victims to know who he really is and see him put on such a high pedestal. 

So, however this all unfolds, I will say this. The people I care about most are the victims. I say this as someone who loved and still loves Good Omens, I say this as someone who was torn up about the final 15, as someone who rejoiced when S3 was originally announced, before all the allegations came to light. I care about the victims. 

But what about the fans? Listen, it’s a fucking TV show. Do you really mean to tell me the ending of a fictional fucking story is more important than the very real people he’s hurt? Not having an ending to your favorite show does not hold a candle to the trauma of being sexually assaulted. There’s no comparison. Not in the same ballpark. Not even in the same galaxy. 

But what about Terry?

Terry is dead and in his grave. I am sorry to say this, but whether his vision comes to life or not, he will never be the wiser. It makes no difference to him. If I could wave my magic wand and have Terry alive and well and Gaiman dead and in his grave, believe me, I definitely would, but that is not the hand we were dealt. 

So please, all I ask is this. Before you go spouting shit like, “I hope we don’t lose S3,” or “I just need to know how it ends,” put yourself in their shoes for just a second.

Imagine you are Claire, or Scarlett, or any of his other victims. Imagine you are sexually assaulted by someone whom the world just puts on a pedestal. You have to sit there and listen to him get praised as being “such a great ally to women and minorities” and “he’s one of us,” and “he’s so brilliant. He’s so cool. He really listens to his fans. Look at this quote of his I got tattooed on my body.” And for years you just sit there and take it, because you’re so fucking afraid that no one will believe you if you come forward, you’re told your story “isn’t enough,” you watch him get richer and richer while you’re stuck with the therapy bill for everyting this “great ally of women” did to you. 

Now imagine that you finally come forward. You finally muster up the will to speak your truth, and tell people what he did to you, and you find that you’re not the only person he’s hurt. The world is finally hearing your story and learning what a manipulative monster he is. 

And now, I want you to think very carefully about what it means if we still get S3. 

S3 means press tours. It means more reviews praising him as a genius. It means certain people being contractually obligated to say nice things about him, or at the very least, not say negative things about him. It means, once again, seeing his fucking horse face or his name everywhere, on Amazon, on billboards, on busses, on posters, in adverts. Only now, it's AFTER the world heard your side of the story.

Just imagine how that would feel. 

So, if it wasn't obvious by now, my stance on S3 is… I don't really want it to happen. Not out of spite or some deep seated hatred for Gaiman (although, ya know, fuck that guy) but out of consideration for the people he's hurt, as someone who knows exactly how it feels to see the person who hurt you get put on a pedestal. 

I understand that production is paused and people think he may be getting removed from the project. I'm not going to comment on that because "paused” can mean a lot of things and there's so much we don't know yet.

There will be other shows. 

There will be shows that DO have satisfying endings. 

Media and shows can be replaced. 

But there is no such thing as being un-raped. 

[locke-esque-monster]

I got real nervous they were doing Lila x Five really early in the season. It wasn't even explicitly stated, it was just a feeling from how they were setting up and framing things. Lila disagreeing with Diego and going to talk to Five. Lila keeping secrets from Diego that Five knew about. The tension of Five covering for Lila to Diego. Lila's dissatisfaction with her relationship with Diego and asking for a break. Without actively being romantically into Five, it kept setting up the narrative for Lila to leave Diego and Five was all tied in with what she was going to as an alternative to Diego. Add that to the promo pics with them together - even having watched it later and avoided spoilers I had a real bad feeling where this was going long before 4x5. (Or at least avoided until I already had my theory - my phone helpfully suggested an article days before I got to 4x5. I was not pleased to say the least.)

But there's a lot of reasons I take issue with this pairing and how it was done, so Christ, I guess let's get started:

Five explicitly stated in season 3 that Lila is not his type.

Five murdered Lila's parents. Sure, on the Handler's orders. But you think it's easy to have a romantic relationship when you know those hands killed your parents (aka my biggest critique of Tony/Bucky shippers in the MCU).

Five is indirectly responsible for the Handler's death. He saved everyone but her when he time traveled back. Sure, Lila was upset with her, but this woman raised her. She's got to have some complicated feelings about that and Five is all wrapped up in them now.

Five also had a weird relationship with the Handler, where she was a little flirty with him, which was all kinds of uncomfortable. Lila briefly mimicked this in season 3, which was even more uncomfortable. It's unclear if this was deliberately copying her "mother" or not. But adding Five and the Handler's complicated relationship on top of the other issues means there's a whole carousel of baggage to unpack here.

Five has always seemed kind of annoyed or tolerant of Lila, which extended into early this season. It's maybe a hair kinder at the start of season 4, but definitely not where it should be if there's potential here. It'd be one thing if they were friends after 6 years, but their relationship hasn't substantially changed at the start of this season to suggest otherwise.

If you have to do an all musical montage to show 2 characters falling in love, I'm sorry, you're not doing this right. That's telling, not showing. These characters have had tons of interactions to build off of. If you can't do that, then you're effectively saying that you have no foundation for this relationship.

Also, if it takes 6 1/2 years of being each others sole companions under adverse conditions for you to get together - maybe you shouldn't be together. It's one thing if it's treated like "Finally" or "Oh I didn't think you also felt this way". It's another if it's like it's a new idea entirely - that suggests loneliness and a desire for companionship and they're you're only option.

Five's history includes him having a pseudo-romantic relationship with a mannequin when he's left alone in the apocalypse at 13. The next time he's separated from his family for years he's with Lila. I'll allow that it makes sense he developed feelings for her specifically because of his history. That said, that makes this a wholly unhealthy relationship when he has a history like that. Lila is filling a gap Five's psyche has clung to before in similar harrowing times.

Frankly, the fact Lila was first looking for excitement out of her home life and is now upset she can't get back to her family isn't a good headspace either. (I'm also deeply frustrated that Lila feels trapped at home. Lila is so capable and she has a buttload of family members who apparently can take their children on a whim during all this chaos. You're telling me she couldn't have found a better outlet to work on their marriage or get some freedom before it got to this point of lying to Diego?)

Five is volatile and Lila is unpredictable. They're nothing but a menace to practically every other character they meet, including each other. But once they're a couple, they're perfectly pleasant the whole time. I don't buy it. The only fight they have is when Five lied to her. I'm not saying they can't be sweet. But this is all sweetness. For me to buy this couple they need to lovingly bicker. Instead, they've both had personality transplants.

So they decide to go back to the greenhouse after 6 years 5 months and 2 days. Five admits to having the book 5 or 6 months on their 7th anniversary of being lost. Let's be generous and assume they kissed within a couple days of getting to the greenhouse, because they look reasonably settled. That means that best case, Five decided that after being in a relationship for less than 2 months, he was going to throw his whole family away and run away with Lila. That is a hell of a lot of commitment for a short relationship.

And keep in mind, it's not like their family is safe. Last they heard, they hadn't solved the Cleanse. So they're either actively in danger or dead. Five - The man who spent 45 years trying to save his family. Who survived decades in the apocalypse alone (minus Delores the mannequin) and murdered his way through time for the chance to get back and save them - is going to let his family die for a 2 month relationship. I call bullshit.

Also, I will give Five credit that he tried to stay on task during the fight with the Cleanse. He only seemed to fight in retaliation for Diego - he actively looked towards the fight at least once before Diego pulled his attention. But you're telling me he's ready to keep fighting Diego and is threatening to kill him over Lila? That his powers only work correctly after 7 years of having them back because Lila begged him? I once again call bullshit.

And Five was going off to mope alone and never come back and potentially let his family die from an active threat, all because Lila didn't pick him? That is not the Five I know.

I also feel like we maybe did all this arc to get Lila to the point where Five has to convince her to stay because no one else could even if she hates him for it, but still get her family on the train to get the planned ending. And that feels very clunky and I hate it.

Outside of plot lines - it is a bit disturbing to me that we're pairing up an actor whose barely an adult with a woman 15 years his senior - practically old enough to be his mother. This is a aside from the fact he's a what, 71 year old man internally at this point and Lila (if we assume even living at the commission she's a similar age to Diego) is in her early 40s by the time she kisses a physically mid-20s Five. There's so much about that I am not okay with I don't even know where to start.

I also hear the writers wanted a romance for Five. First, okay, then have a longer season. Develop a character for Five earlier on in the season or the show you can pair him with. God knows with that history and age issues it'll be tricky. But also frankly - why? Why does Five need a romantic love interest? He's been fueled by the love of his family and that's done so many impressive things out of love for them. Not everyone needs a romantic love of their life to find happiness and it feels very heteronormative (is that the word I want?) that we need to have that for Five. Give Five an apocalypse-free world and his family alive and then we can see what happiness he can find.

[liillyliilly]

destiny has to be real kozume kenma x reader content; she runs into him, he feels his brain chemistry change (fluff) 1032 words

[i met you in the crowded city.]

Kuroo always liked to drag Kenma out into the streets of Tokyo, just so that he could experience real life every once in a while. The streets of Tokyo after it rained were always Kenma’s favorite. Because, there were always less people out and he could actually enjoy spending time with his friend. The rain dampens the concrete sidewalks, and the colors of numerous electronic ads flit across the ground.  

It had just rained, but some light drops were still falling from the sky. As Kenma and Kuroo walked, he could hear the way the wet ground sloshed against his shoes. When Kuroo said he needed to pick up some flowers for his girlfriend, Kenma nodded and said that he would stay right by the street sign. Pulling out his game console to beat a new level, Kenma leaned against the tall metal sign. The sounds of his game and the delicate drops of rain around him soothed his anxiety about being outside.  

Even if he didn’t express it often, Kenma had been feeling lonely, that's why he had agreed to spend time with Kuroo in the first place. His loneliness wasn’t that bad, but he did know the root of it. He needed someone to be content with. Shōyō, while he was nice and played games with him, was oftentimes much too intense to relax with. Kuroo, while he was understanding and tried his best to level out his passionate nature, he was just always expecting something more, something exciting. Kenma had started to think that he would be the only person to understand himself.  

All of his thinking though, distracted him. So when someone bumped into him, he was spooked and dropped his console. When he heard the plastic crack, Kenma cringed crouching down to inspect the damage.  

“Oh my goodness! I am so sorry! I totally wasn’t looking where I was going, this is all my fault. Is there anything I can do?” A girl’s voice exclaimed, and she crouched down as well. Kenma tried to avoid eye contact. So he just mumbled out a response.

“It’s fine.” He scooped up all the pieces and shoved them into his hoodie pocket. Standing up and turning his head to the side, he continued, “It’s not your fault. I blend in.”

“Me too.” Her voice was quiet, but Kenma could understand her perfectly. She stood up as well, shoving her hands into her jacket’s front pouch. Kenma resisted for a moment. Would it be worth it to meet a stranger’s gaze head on?

[it must be predestined, right?]

Meeting her eyes was the best decision he had made all week, or probably all month, maybe even all year. His Adam’s Apple bobbed as he tried to find words to say. His hair fell into his eyes when he looked back down. Only to notice that she was holding out his game cartridge.

“Who's your favorite character?” Her voice was a little bit louder, but still held the same hesitance. As if she was holding back from accidently saying a wrong thing.

“What?” His brain short circuited, a pretty girl was talking to him? And she knew about his game?

“I saw that you play, you know, the video game? I play it too.” She had pursed her lips together as she held out the cartridge for Kenma to take. The fact she played it too only made Kenma more interested. Something about her was different from the other girls he knew. She held herself like she was afraid of hurting others, she stood unbalanced because she seemed to be missing a support. Just like Kenma.

The rain started to come down heavier again. Soaking both Kenma and the girl’s hair. Kenma looked around, and found a bench underneath a bus stop nearby.

“C’mon.” He started walking over to the bus stop. When the girl heard the thunder that cracked down she rushed to his side and grabbed his hand tightly. That’s when Kenma’s heart started to race. It was running against itself to get out of his ribcage.  

When they had finally sat down on the dry bench, the girl still hadn’t let go of his hand.  

She introduced herself with a wrinkle on her nose.

“I’m Kenma.” He said, glancing to their connected hands once again.

She let go of his hand, and Kenma missed the feeling of the squeeze she had forced onto his hand.

“You never answered my question. About your favorite character?” She stared outwards, looking at the cars that drove by, water rolling with the tire before crashing down again. The lights of Tokyo blurred and streaked with a scratchy grey filter.

[why don't we know each other?]

They talked for an hour. A perfect hour recorded in their memories. Everything they said was in the same realm, their own little realm. It was as if they were stuck in time, a bubble enclosed them together under that bus stop.  

“Wait seriously? You got lost in Miyagi, but know Tokyo like the back of your hand?” She covered her mouth to hold in the giggles that attempted to crawl out and wrap themselves around Kenma’s entire being.

“Pitiful huh?”

“Realistic. Never pitiful.” She complimented. Her words were like a fresh breath of air. Her words were like getting a new game to mess around with to try and figure out. And Kenma felt like he could spend his entire life playing her game and would never get bored.  

“How have I never met you before?” The words escape before Kenma could understand what they would insinuate.

It was what he wanted to say though, including the insinuation. He wanted to ask any sort of high ethereal being why they had held back from letting him meet her until now. Was it a punishment? But then again, meeting her now was sweeter than it could have been. Meeting at school would have been a missed connection. He met her when he was unaware and vulnerable. Just as it should be.

“It’s fate. That you and I were destined to meet now, and not earlier.” She closed her eyes and shook her head from side to side, “Sorry, that was really cheesy.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Don't be sorry, he thinks, because I think this is destiny too.

Kuroo had taken longer to get flowers, because Kuroo had taken one look at Kenma and Kenma's perfect stranger- and Kuroo had went home. (He could always text Kenma later he reasoned.)

[objectumnonsense]

robot oneshot, as requested VwV

The lab was dark, save for the dim neon light filtering in through the curtains and a singular work lamp in the corner of the room. Every few minutes, a train passed overhead, making the ceiling groan with the weight, but it was otherwise quiet. The lab's only two occupants sat without speaking, one in maintenance mode on a table and the other wearing thick, elbow-length rubber gloves and wielding a variety of delicate tools.

The Mechanic worked diligently and in near silence, save for softly humming a tune and occasionally blowing their hair out of their face while they worked on SN-0407-67. The only sounds coming from 67 were the hum of its fans and the occasional buzz of a wire being put in the wrong place, quickly corrected by the Mechanic.

After about half an hour, the Mechanic said, in a voice rough with disuse, "Exit maintenance mode," and a line of small lights blinked to life on the back of 67's neck. Its shutters flicked open and it turned its head right around to face the Mechanic.

"Is there a problem?" it buzzed.

"Well, I don't wanna catastrophize, but I'm lookin' through your lower back complex and I'm seein' some stuff that looks an awful lot like buzz bug eggs. Can you run a diagnostics check for me real quick?"

"Affirmative." In a blink of its shutters, it received data from all of its main systems and most of its secondary and tertiary programs and responded.

"Small loop errors in primary memory arrays. Minimal damage to recursive power wiring. Buzz bugs may be a possibility. Suggestion: analyze sample of offending material."

"Will do. Wanna go back to sleep?"

"Negative. We are almost done, correct?"

"If this don't turn out to be an infestation, yeah. What's got you so eager to leave?"

"Nothing. I simply do not enjoy being in maintenance mode for extended periods of time."

"Oh? Why's that?"

67 turned back around and allowed the Mechanic to pry open its back panel and delicately reach through its wiring with a pair of tweezers.

"I dislike being unaware of my surroundings for so long. It is against my purpose."

"It's necessary though, ain't it?"

"As is sleeping. But you are avoiding that now."

"Fair 'nuff."

The silence returned for a few minutes. The Mechanic extricated some pieces of material from 67's wiring and the gaps in their chassis while it sat perfectly still and nearly silent.

Abruptly, a small yellow light on their shoulder lit up and they said, "Your heart rate and breathing have increased."

"Huh?"

"Are you in distress? Is the infestation worse than you expected?"

"Oh, no, nothin' like that. If this is buzz bugs, we caught 'em real early. I could probably get all of this outta you before dawn."

"That is good."

They continued without speaking for a few moments more, the yellow light still turning on and off rhythmically, before 67 spoke up again.

"Your heart rate has not decreased."

"And I suppose I can't ask you to ignore that?"

"Negative. It is against my purpose."

"Right. First aid robot."

The Mechanic pursed their lips and tried to continue their work, but 67 kept talking.

"You hands are shaking slightly. Allow me to check your blood sugar content."

Before the Mechanic could respond, 67 had already completed the check.

"Blood sugar content within healthy range. Brain scan indicates higher than normal levels of oxytocin. Heart rate and breathing rate are increased, but have plateaued."

"Can't keep anythin' secret from you, huh?"

"Negative. You have poor control over your responses to emotion."

"Well, can't say I didn't try."

"Correct. You are still avoiding telling me the reason for your heightened emotional state."

"Would it hurt so bad to let this one go unmentioned?"

"A key to maintaining healthy relationships is communication between constituents. I am curious why you are acting differently."

"It's... complicated. It's a human thing."

"Mechanic, "human things" are my area of expertise. I will understand whatever you tell me."

"I just..." They sighed, but set their tweezers aside and brushed their fingers along a piece of 67's circuitry. "Can you feel this? When I'm workin' on you?"

"To an extent, yes."

"And does it... hurt?"

"Not unless something is damaged. It feels almost the same as when my exterior is touched."

"Almost?"

"There is a level of... trust involved. I trust that you will not break me, you trust that I will not close myself or shock you to injure you."

"When I do this..." the Mechanic traced the column of 67's spine with their index finger, "what is that like?"

"I fail to see why you are asking me again. Did I not just explain it?"

"I know, I know, just.. tell me what you feel me doin'."

"Alright."

A moment's pause.

"I feel you touching the outer shell of my spine. It holds much of my central processing power, which is why it's covered by thick metal plating. But I know you will not try to damage it."

"And now?"

"Now you're moving towards my power cell. It's a very powerful battery, and very fragile. But you will not damage it."

"Now?"

"You're reaching up through my chest cavity towards my transform arrays. This is where most of my proprioceptive senses are processed. It's also highly sensitive to touch. But you will not damage it."

The Mechanic let out a shaky sigh. The blinking yellow light on 67's shoulder began flashing more quickly. They noticed it was in time with their heartbeat.

"Your breathing and heart rate have increased steadily. Is there something you aren't telling me?"

They abruptly pulled their hand out of 67's back and stammered an apology.

"Sorry, I'm - sorry, that - that was kinda weird. I shouldn'ta -"

"It was not unpleasant."

Their words ground to a halt and they stared at the back of 67's head.

"You... motherfucker, you knew this whole time, didn't you?"

67 made a beep that sounded like a laugh.

"Negative. I only realized when I scanned you."

The Mechanic leaned their head against 67's shoulder with a clunk.

"And I couldn't get you to delete this whole interaction from your memories?"

"Negative."

The Mechanic sighed again and leaned back, rubbing their temples.

"Well, that's about it for your checkup anyways. We should probably get goin'."

"Mechanic, I would not refuse if you wanted to take this further."

The Mechanic froze. "Whuh?"

"I do not have the capacity to feel it the same way you do. But I understand it would be enjoyable for you. My purpose, after all, is to ease suffering."

"Wh - but - I - I'm not sufferin' about it, I just -"

"Mechanic."

67 rose and walked around the table, standing very close to the Mechanic and resting a careful hand on their hip. They swallowed thickly.

"We are the only ones in here. We have time."

The Mechanic let out a nervous, breathy chuckle. They raised a hand to 67's face plate and brushed their thumb along it.

"You're amazin', you know that? Just... incredible."

"I know," 67 replied, a playful lilt in its voice. "Tell me if you want me to stop at any point."

"Alright."

67 stepped even closer so that one of its legs was between both of the Mechanic's and they had to lean back against the table. One of their hands rested on 67's shoulder and the other settled on its hip.

67 hooked a thumb over the Mechanic's waistband and tugged down. Its other hand worked its way up their shirt and cupped their chest. It leaned its head down and bonked it gently on the top of theirs.

"Was that supposed to be a kiss?"

"Affirmative."

"You're such a dork."

67 hummed. Its movements remained smooth and steady, but the Mechanic distinctly heard its cooling fans pick up when it tugged their underwear aside.

"Could it be you're enjoyin' this too, 67?" they purred, lifting the hand that was on its shoulder to the back of its head, where they brushed over some of the exposed wires there. Its lower shutter twitched upwards.

"You do look... very nice. Under me like this."

"Mmm. Kinky." They spread their legs further and gasped when 67's searching hands found their bare skin.

"Are you alright?"

"Y-yeah. It's just been a while. Go slow."

"Understood."

Gently, 67 started working its hand, and the Mechanic let out a quiet groan. They rolled their hips into 67's touch, grip tightening on its neck and making its shutter twitch again.

"Is - fuck - is that hurtin' you?" they asked.

"Negative."

"Want me to - to stop?"

"Nnegative."

At the stalling of 67's voice, the Mechanic raised an eyebrow. "Is it gettin' you off or s-something?

"N N N N - Unsure. My proproprocessor has encountered an error."

Experimentally, the Mechanic chose a wire and tugged on it - not enough to break it, but with enough force to pull it partially out of line. 67 jolted forward, making a buzzing sound the Mechanic had never heard before, and its hand dug harshly into their flesh, making them gasp.

"Arrre you alright?" it asked, stopping all motion. The Mechanic whined and pushed against its hand.

"Don't stop," they pleaded.

"One moment. I nnneed to check -"

The Mechanic tugged on the same wire again, creating the same reaction, and sighed with satisfaction.

"Memememechanic," 67 scolded, though the effect was somewhat lost due to the skipping in its voice.

"Keep goin'. I didn't tell you to stop."

"Make me."

The defiance caught the Mechanic off guard, but only for a moment. They glared up at 67.

"Y'know, you're real disobedient for a robot," they growled, finding a different wire and wrapping it around their finger. 67's shutters closed completely this time, its entire body jerking randomly for a moment before the Mechanic let the wire go again. "I thought you were s'posed to follow directions?"

"Youyouyou haven't said the magic word yet," 67 replied, though their hand had begun to move again.

"Make me cum, 67. That's an order."

"Affirmativvve."

The Mechanic cried out at the dizzying pace 67 suddenly set, hips rocking helplessly into its touch. Its name flowed from their lips like a hymn. 67 bore down on them, chest pressed to theirs, free hand supporting their back so they didn't fall.

"Yesyesyesyes, just like that, yes -!"

With a drawn-out moan, the Mechanic came hard, slumping back so that 67 had to adjust its hold on them, completely at its mercy as it kept up the harsh pace of its hand. It slowed to a stop the moment the feeling became too much and their groans of pleasure turned into whimpers.

The pair stayed like that for a moment, the Mechanic struggling to catch their breath and clinging to 67, whose fans were still going at top speed. It stared adoringly down at them, privately recording a short clip to replay later.

"Holy shit," the Mechanic finally breathed, pushing themself upward off of 67's arm. "That was... wow."

"I trust you enjoyed yourself?"

"Yeah. Jesus Christ. Are you... can I - is there anythin' I can do for you?"

"Negative. No part of me can experience anything close to sexual arousal, but I appreciate the consideration."

"So, just outta curiosity, what were the wires doin' to ya?"

That gave 67 pause.

"I'm... unsure. It's not a sensation I've ever felt before."

"Was it bad?"

"Negative. It was... novel. I'm not sure what to make of it."

"So what... would it be okay if I did it again?"

Another pause.

"...Affirmative. Please be careful."

"You know careful's my middle name."

The Mechanic lifted both of their hands and rested them on 67's neck. One slid its fingers over the exposed wires, still slightly out of place, making 67 beep and twitch.

"Why don't you try tellin' me what you feel?" they purred, finding a wire and winding it around their finger. 67 took a moment to respond, its voicebox making nonsense sounds before it could gather it to something intelligible.

"I I I I feel... dizzzzy? I think that wiwiwire has a role in proprioceptive data transfer. It's hard to to to to rrrecall at the moment."

"Mmm. And what about now?" the Mechanic asked, parting the wires and reaching deeper into 67's neck. They felt their finger make contact with cool metal, and 67 made a long, low tone until they lifted it.

"My my my my my centrrrral spinal casinnnnng. It's very sensensensitive to touch, which is is is why it's underrrrneath everything ellllse."

"You're startin' to sound pretty rough, 67."

"Hard to to to prrrocess speech at the momoment. Unsure how to parrrrse sensory dadadadata."

"Still don't want me to stop?"

"Affirrrmative. Want you you you touch furrrrther in me."

"Fuck, that's hot."

The Mechanic moved upward this time, under the plating on the back of 67's head with a muttered "keep your head down." 67's head briefly dropped limply downward, chin hitting its chest with a dull thunk, before the Mechanic hastily removed their hand and it looked back up at them.

"Why did you you stop?"

"That wasn't bad?"

"Negative. Want morrre."

"Oh, I see how it is." They resumed their probing, 67's head falling again, its voice struggling to express exactly what it was feeling.

"Hannnds in my in me touch ch ch ch mind feel I feel your hands," it managed, and the Mechanic bit their lip, looking up at it with adoration in their eyes.

"God, you sound fuckin' wrecked. I wish I knew I could do this to you sooner," they confessed. 67's optic flickered.

"Want want hands want touch morrre so so so much so want want want wannnnnnt -"

Abruptly, its voice dropped so low it was almost a buzz, its optic blinking out, hands in a vise grip on the Mechanic's hips while the lights on its body turned off all at once. Its fans continued on high for a moment more before they lowered to a more normal level and a noise like a dial-up played.

"Shit."

The Mechanic waited nervously while 67 rebooted, slowly releasing their hips before its optic blinked back to life, immediately zeroing in on them.

"Are you okay? Did I touch something I shouldn't've?"

"Negative. I am still processing. Please give me a moment."

After a second or two, 67 spoke again.

"Last sensation recorded before shutdown: foreign object inside cranial casing. Pressure applied to central tactile nerve. Systems overwhelmed." It blinked. "No memory lost. I am in no pain."

"So that tactile nerve thing -"

"I felt... everything. It's hard to explain."

"I think I get it. Don't worry."

"It was... good. I felt good. I would like to do this again sometime."

"Is right now a good sometime? 'Cause that was fuckin' hot."

67's optic widened slightly, disbelief creeping into its voice.

"Causing a temporary shutdown... made you aroused again?"

"It was more like making you get there. But yeah."

"Interesting. In that case..."

67 opened the maintenance panel on its chest, exposing a crisscrossing maze of wires and circuits to the Mechanic, who practically drooled.

"Help yourself to me."

[twoidiotwriters1]

Mrs. Blythe —(Gilbert Blythe xFem!Reader)

A/N: This is me avoiding my big girl job -Danny Words: 1,429 Summary: SMUT. Gilbert won't wait until the wedding. Twoidiots Masterlist

"Are you sure this is okay?"

Gilbert hushes you as he stumbles forward in the dark hallway. "I told you, we have the house to ourselves tonight."

"Oh, but we really shouldn't," you mumble worryingly.

Gilbert lets out a boyish laugh, glancing at you over his shoulder. "Y/N, if there's ever a time to mishave, is right now, a week before our wedding."

"But giving others the responsibility to cover for us was a stretch—"

"Nonsense, none of them minded," Gilbert tugs you closer once he reaches the stairs, swiftly picking you up so you don't stall any longer.

You yelp a bit, clinging to his shoulders as he laughs again, a kind of childish sound you rarely hear nowadays, but it reminded you of earlier years, of fairy picnics and secrets shared behind the barn.

"Gilbert Blythe, you wicked devil!" You hiss, but the grin on your face tells him you're just as giddy as he is.

"You say that now," he smirks, carrying you to his room. "But I trust you'll melt right into my arms as soon as I get us undressed."

The mere thought makes your face heat up. It's not like you've been completely innocent so far, Gilbert and you have been sneaking off to have intimate, loving experiences since the first month of courtship, but you've never had enough time or space to enjoy yourselves fully, on his bed, out of all places.

Gilbert pushes the door open and then lightly kicks it shut once you're both inside. He gently sets you back on your feet and eyes you with affection, but there's a bit of darkness underneath, the kind that makes your knees weak.

"My love," he says, softly reaching to trace your cheek. "Mrs. Blythe."

"Not yet," you say playfully.

Gilbert's smile widens. "Ah, with all the times I've marked your body, darling, I believe the ceremony is mere paperwork."

You gasp quietly and swat his arm. "You're terrible tonight!"

"On the contrary, my sweet," he hums, pulling you closer by the waist. "I'll be very, very good to you tonight..."

Gilbert leans down and presses soft, lingering kisses to your neck. He breathes in your scent, reaching up to thread his hand through the soft locks of hair and sighing lowly in approval. He walks you backward to the bed, his other hand gently grasping your hip and ensuring you don't trip.

You don't really fight it, after all, you two are getting married in a week, so there is no real danger in indulging his fancies. Your hands move expertly over his shirt and suspenders, pushing both off his shoulders until he tosses them away.

He looks at you, a gaze that is now fully lustful as he turns you around and unbuttons the back of your dress, leaning forward and peppering light kisses onto your nape.

His hands wander under the fabric, tracing your shoulder blades and then your waist, pushing off the dress until your torso is bare, and his lips are brushing over the soft skin at the base of your neck.

"This will be our life, Y/N," he whispers against your ear. "You, on my bed, and I, loving you morning, day, and night until I forget myself." his hands travel up your front and cup your chest, his breath hitches against your cheek as he continues to speak. "Every bit of you, I'll worship, every bit of me will be devoted to you, only ask and you'll get it... whatever you want."

The dress falls off your body and you turn in his arms, looking up at him wantonly, your hands reaching for his trousers. Gilbert frowns and helps you get them out of the way, and once that's done you climb into bed together.

Gilbert's mouth is everywhere, he kisses your cheeks, your mouth, your neck, he travels down to your collarbone and presses his face to the valley of your breasts, making a sound of utter satisfaction at the feeling. Your hand rests on the back of his head, running through his brown curls in an almost lazy manner as you relish the attention.

His hand travels down your stomach, and he presses a kiss just under your ear as his fingers slip between your thighs and find your center. He moans, his hand trembling when it comes into contact with your heat.

"Good lord," he blurts out heavily. "Y/N, dearest, I can't wait to feel you sucking me in..."

You whimper in reply, his lewd words making your legs part wider. He slips one finger inside you, groaning at the sensation. Your hips buck up against his hand, and he grinds his own on your body, his length pressing against your thigh demanding attention.

"Gilbert," you sigh, clinging to his arm as he moves in deliberate, patient movements.

"That's a good girl," he speaks in a breathy voice, smiling down at your lovely needy expression. "Just making sure you can fit me, sweetheart, you know it won't take long..."

You arch against him demanding more, and Gilbert's free hand slides down to grip your bum, squeezing lightly. He groans and buries his face on your neck, almost shaking with need.

"Please..." You pant, lifting one of your legs and keeping it on his hip. Gilbert holds it in place, grabbing your thigh and pulling it higher to wrap it around his waist.

"Just like that, my love," he mumbles, biting your shoulder lightly. "Let me take you just like that..."

He pulls his fingers out of you and then wraps them around his manhood, using your wetness so he can slide in without issue. You watch him move his hand up and down his length, his eyes never leaving you, and then he lines up with your entrance, teasing you with his tip.

"Get on my cock, won't you sweetheart?" He asks, his tone polite yet holding the right amount of authority.

You moan, nodding eagerly as you lift up your hips and then push him into you, shivering at the feeling. Gilbert moans too, letting his member slide in a steady motion until he's buried deep. His left hand clings to the pillow as he tries not to ram into you like a beast.

"Y/N, my love," he says lowly, burying his face in your hair as he rolls his hips a little. "My goddess on earth..."

You whimper, needing more of him, all of it. "Gilbert," you beg, your hand holding onto his hip to encourage him.

"I know," he sighs, slowly moving back and forth. "I know, love, but I must take my time... or this will end quickly..."

His arms wrap around you, his face traveling down as he kisses your breasts with hunger, biting and moaning into the skin. You lose track of time, focusing solely on the pace you're trying to keep and how his hands travel over your body.

Gilbert speeds up when you grasp his hair a bit too tightly, his voice turning into a growl. You gasp, clenching around him, and that makes his hips stutter. "Y/N," he moans. "Again..."

He doubles his efforts wanting to get that exact reaction from you over and over again, which causes you to end up a whining flushed mess. Your nails dig into his back and Gilbert starts to collapse on top of you, so he rolls over without pulling out, keeping you firmly in place.

"Like this," he pants. "Move on me like this."

You tremble at the way his voice sounds, so deep and urgent. Your hips move on their own, stuttering as you slowly reach your limit. "Gilbert— ah!" You stutter, your hands pressing on his stomach. "I can't... I need..."

"I know," he places a hand on your lower back, guiding your movements. "Come for me, Mrs. Blythe." He grins.

It unravels you. His voice, his smile, his body underneath yours, and knowing this is what the rest of your life will look like. When you finish, it's like swimming in the moonlight. Blinding, and so very sweet.

Gilbert follows right after, his hands gripping your hips to keep them in place as he stills beneath you and tilts his head back, his mouth falling open and a deep rumble of pleasure slipping out of it. You slow down to a stop, and he pulls you down onto his chest gently, once again burying his face in your hair and sighing.

"My wife," he mutters hoarsely, and you have no interest in correcting him this time.

Taglist.

@i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @ninizkd @http-itsrebecca @aleksosoto @moonhoonie @thatonementallyillsimp @cedricisnotdead @mikaelsonwhxrebae @lavenderacademia @angelhugsaresweet @slytherinambitious @outofst1le @na1ven3vy @lucyk

[shadowsndaisies]

dogfighting 101: 02 - let's rock and roll

wc: 1k

synopsis: It's been a long time since I rock and rolled, It's been a long time since I did the stroll, Ooh let me get it back, let me get it back, Let me get it back, baby, where I come from

main masterlist

athena-verse master post

“Anyone got eyes on Maverick?” you ask, eyes scanning both your radar and the terrain too.

“No visual,” Harvard confirms.

“He’s here somewhere,” you note and then you realize.

Never only think what’s expected, kid. 360 degrees, all the time It’s something your dad told you were little, he and Ice, they wanted to teach you lessons to help you, things they learned too late. Little tests, quizzes, making sure you were well prepared for whatever life threw at you. Part of you was positive that Ice always knew where you’d end up.

Keeping that lesson in mind, you decide to change your perspective.

“Athena!” Yale’s shout echoes when you invert, a slow roll, completely safe, but not anticipated by your teammates.

Of course, your hunch pays off when you spot your dad from where he'd been shadowing you from below the hard deck, below your radars reach.

“How’s it hanging, old man?” you ask, smiling under your mask, looking through the canopy at him.

“You’re catching on to my tricks too quick, kid,” he throws back and you can practically hear the smirk.

There's a “Oh shit,” over the line from Harvard, but you shake your head as your dad comes up ahead of you both and you flip back once again.

“I know you too well, Sir,” you offer in response.

“Let’s to put that to the test,” he says, “time to turn and burn aviators, fights on!”

He shoots up and you spare another look at the foxtrot team on your right.

“Break right, Yale,” you shout over the line as you peel off left trying to find your Dad again.

“Breaking right,” he confirms.

You both loop around and eventually you find him, he’s already on your ass and you’re trying to shake him off.

“Tally Tally, he’s on your four-side Athena,” Harvard shouts.

“I see him!” you confirm increasing your throttle and turning up in an attempt to loop back around.

Your dad though, is hard to lose.

“I can’t shake him,” you huff, eyes squinting down as you pull evasive maneuvers.

“Athena, how long would you need to get tone?” Yale’s question comes suddenly, and you spot him looping back around, you see the move he’s planning to make, the way he’s positioning himself.

“Not long,” you assure him.

“Get ready to Rock and Roll,” Yale decides.

“I hate the Rock and Roll,” Harvard mutters, and you can’t help the small chuckle that slips out.

“Would you prefer the Do-Si-Do?” you ask, amusement shining through as you turn to set your self up.

“Fuck, no, and you fucking know it,” Harvard denies vehemently, you can hear Yale laugh as you finally get yourself right where you want to be.

“I’m ready to Rock,” you confirm and suddenly you stop the evasive maneuvers.

“Then let’s Roll!” Yale shouts, shooting up.

You, on the other hand, straighten out, and right before Maverick can get tone, Yale dives down in a controlled but fast barrel roll in the gap between you both, it’s not the tightest gap, easily manageable, but enough to give Mav pause, and while Harvard and Yale slowed to avoid the hard deck, you accelerate straight up and then tip back in a vertical roll, it pulls more G’s than you’d expected during your first training run of the detachment, but you manage to level out and get tone on your dad.

Unfortunately your tone comes right after your dad caught Harvard and Yale.

“Shit,” you huff, dejected as Yale pulls up parallel to you.

“Shit,” Mav agrees, flanking your other side, though he sounds more impressed than anything else.

“Harvard, Yale, go see Hondo about your push-ups,” Mav calls, and the foxtrot team starts their descent. “Athena,” he calls, and your gaze jumps out the canopy and at your dad. He hits the glass, pulling his mask off and offering you a rare smile, real and proud, like he did at your high school graduation. “Not bad, Kid,” he says and you smile despite yourself, beginning your own descent.

Harvard, Yale, Hangman, Phoenix, and Bob are all stood on the tarmac when you land.

“I have a need,” Yale yells holding up his hands as you get out of your plane.

You roll your eyes but play along, “A need for speed!” you shout, high-fiving him and then Harvard who was stood behind his pilot.

“Not bad, ‘Thena,” Hangman drawls, a twinkle in his eyes.

“Don’t be too sad when you don’t get tone, Hangman, we always knew I was the better pilot,” you smirk, winking at him as you walk past.

You shake your head walking with Brigham and Yale, and when they stop by Hondo, you do too.

“You got tone, Athena, no push-ups for you,” Hondo says, frowning when you ditch your vest and gear, rolling your flight suit down and dropping to the ground in line with Harvard and Yale who had already done the same.

“I did,” you confirm, taking a plank beside the two men.

“Athena,” it’s Yale’s voice this time, looking at you with what can only be described as fondness, but also exasperation.

“We’re a team, you got shot down, we all do push-ups,” you say seriously. Then you turn to look up at Hondo, “on your count, Hondo,” you prompt.

“Hold that!” the evident smirk in the voice had your held tilting up and there was your dad. “A deal’s a deal, kid. You got tone, I owe 200 pushups,” your dad smirked down at you, as he dropped to the ground on the other side of you.

“You sure you can manage that? You’re getting up there in years,” you tease.

“Ice would have your head if he heard you age-shaming me,” he shoots back.

“Ice would laugh and join me,” you challenge.

Your dad simply smiles in defeat, turning to Hondo, “like the kid said, on your count, Hondo.”

“If you insist,” he nods, and then, “Down! One! Two! Three!” and the count went on, the four of you doing your push-ups.

...

everything: @butterfly-skinnylegend

athena’s tags: @omgbrianab @smoothdogsgirl @bazellawriz @sbrewer21 @inky-sun @djs8891 @rory-cakes @geeksareunique @je6291

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Life in the City 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bad friends, creep behaviour, abuse of power dynamics, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: You move to the big city and find yourself swallowed up by its chaos.

Characters: Clark Kent, Thor Odinson, short!reader

Note: A brief reprieve from the snakish prince.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you. No tag list, do not ask for updates.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You sleep lightly, A restless night that leaves your skull fragile. You give up your attempts as the sun rises through the windows. You sit up and stretch, looking around the soft hues limning the walls of Melanie’s apartment.

You stand and move cautiously through the space. You change in the bathroom, doing your best not to make too much noise as you go out to grab your bag. You brush your teeth and tidy up. You’ll have a shower when you get home.

You emerge and look around, making sure you haven’t left anything out. You take the time to clean up the snacks from the night before and place everything away in the cupboard. You know Melanie’s on a diet but it feels wrong to take it all back with you.

As you zip up your bag, a shadow darkness the hallway and you look up as Clark tussles his dark hair and stretches. You glimpse at him briefly, mortified to find him shirtless, his hard torso exposed above the low elastic of his sweatpants.

“Morning,” his voice is silty with sleep, “what… are you leaving already?”

“Well, I… I should head off. Get out of your way,” you shrug as you speak quietly, “plus, I got chores…”

“Oh, do you need a ride,” he lets his hand drag down his chest as you shift awkwardly, clinging to your knapsack.

“Um, that’s nice, but I’ll just catch the bus–”

“The bus?” He echoes, “let me throw on a shirt and get myself together. I can’t let you just sneak off.”

“Erm, I guess… I could wait and say goodbye to Melanie, I just thought–”

“Yeah, she won’t be up for a while,” he drops his arms, his chest puffed proudly, “you know, she drank a lot. She wasn’t feeling too well. You didn’t hear her?”

“What? I…” you blink and avoid his gaze, “I was asleep, I didn’t hear anything.”

“Oh, yeah, she was sick in the middle of the night. Pretty bad. I tell her not to drink on an empty stomach.”

“Ah, uh, yeah, that’s awful,” you sputter, “I… I’m sorry to rush out, it’s just I got a lot to catch up.”

“No problem. I’ll save you waiting for the bus,” he says, “won’t be long at all.”

“Oh, okay, but–”

“Really, it’s no trouble. If I don’t wake her up with a real latte, she’ll bite my head off,” he chuckles, “hungover Melanie is not nice Melanie.”

“Right,” you try to laugh but it’s more a croak, “I��ll just be… here then.”

🏙️

You sit in the car silently. The tension is roiling. You don’t know why you agreed. You could have insisted; the bus won’t be long…

Too late for that. You’re stuck now. At least there’s not much traffic. You hug your bag in your lap, anxious to just get home. He drives patiently despite the empty streets, taking his time as he turns onto the next street.

“So, chores, sounds exciting,” he teases.

“Mm, yeah, I guess,” you agree squeakily.

“What else are Saturday’s for? Guess you’re headed back to work on Monday?”

You nod, “mhmm.”

“How is it? Work? You making lots of friends?”

You almost feel like a kid. It reminds you of when your dad would pick you up from school and ask what trouble you go into. You twiddle your fingers against your bag.

“Um, well, everyone sort’ve keeps to themselves,” you eke out, “there’s a lot of work so…”

“You’ll settle in. I’m sure you’ll find lots of friends,” he slows and flips on his blinker, “I mean, you already have.” You tilt your head and glance at him in confusion, “me.”

“Oh, uh, sure, yeah, sorry, I’m tired,” you laugh nervously.

“So,” he rolls into the lot of the Coffee Bean, “want something?”

“You don’t have to–”

“I’m stopping by anyway, no biggie,” he insists, “coffee, tea?”

You pick at the zipper of your bag. He’s so nice. Too nice. But that’s not a real problem, you’re just making it into one. Last night… what did he do so wrong? Pull a blanket over you? It was cold.

“Sure, could I just get an iced green tea, please and thank you?” You unzip your bag and fish around.

He steers into the drive through and puts in his order at the speaker, listing off Melanie’s complicated lite syrup, half-foam, coconut milk monstrosity at the end. You pull out your wallet as he’s directed to the window.

“My treat,” he insists.

“Really, it’s just three bucks.”

“Exactly,” he insists, “you brought all those treats last night, the least I can do is buy you an iced tea.”

“Thanks,” you sniff and look out the window.

“I’ll make sure Mel gives you a call. You two can hash this out,” he stops and waits at the window, “she needs a friend like you. All the others are so… well, they’re not as nice as you.”

“Maybe, I… if she wants to call. I don’t want to bug her.”

“Bug her? Oh, sweetie, she doesn’t deserve a friend like you,” he says, “but I’m being selfish and I think you’d be a good influence.”

You nod again, put off by his tone. It’s like he’s a parent the way he talks about Melanie. Almost like he’s trying to mould her into something. Someone like him, with his name and his looks, you’re sure he could find someone who already fits right in.

The window opens and he takes the tray of drinks. He hands you yours before sliding the other two into the cup holders. He flings the cardboard tray onto the backseat and continues through the exit. He idles at the signs.

“I forgot, which way am I going?” 

You point him in the right direction, nearly sighing in relief. You’re almost home. You just want to hide away in your shame and never be perceived again.

🏙️

You’re not very surprised when Melanie doesn’t call. Not on Saturday or Sunday. You’re grateful that she doesn’t. You’re trying to forget about the movie night gone wrong. It’s probably better off. You’ve both changed a lot since high school, or maybe you haven’t changed enough.

You go through your usual. You’re not a liar, you do have chores. Dishes, laundry, floors, dusting… You keep yourself busy in an effort to block out the memory of the night. You won’t be watching Never Been Kissed ever again, that’s for sure.

Monday morning greets you with a new start but it all feels so stale. The routine is the same as the weeks before. Wake up, green tea in a thermos, pack your lunch, make yourself presentable, and out the door to catch the bus.

You enjoy the route, letting it lull your pre-work jitters. You’ve been there going on a month and somehow you still feel out-of-place. It’s not like before, where you knew all the people at your work study, or in high school where the associates in the department store joked around more than they ever did the price changes.

You stroll up to the building, slowing behind a pair of men in tailored suits. You feel like a minnow in a sea of sharks. You follow them inside as they drop the door on you. They’re important. They’re chatting about an important meeting and business trip next week. You’ll be dutifully perched at your desk, roving through spreadsheets.

The salesmen are higher up the chain than you in the ecosystem of the company. You’re somewhere along the lower-middle ground, below the lions and the hyenas. You’re off with Timon and Pumbaa, trying not to get eaten.

You step onto the elevator with them, shrinking down. You’re invisible to them. You’re not Stella in her red-soled stilettos and tight pencil skirts, or Ginnifer in her high-buns and sleek pantsuits. You feel like a little girl playing dress up even in your simple powder blue cardigan and flowered skirt.

The elevator bings and the men nearly bowl you over as they brush past you on each side. You get off after them and scurry away to your desk. You see Stella now, sipping a tall latte as she purrs at Tony. She struts down the hall ahead of him as she calls back about some expense report.

You tuck your bag under your desk and get yourself situated. You plunk down your thermos beside your mouse and boot up. You roll your ankles under the desk, your Keds soft-soled but comfortable. You can’t run for the bus in heels.

You steel yourself for another day buried in Excel columns. You sign in and push back the cap on the lid of your cup. Steam escapes and you let the heat escape before you dare taste it. You pull up your inbox and scroll through your emails. Your task list is ever longer by the day.

Your work isn’t unimportant. You give the analytics to the salesman and the big suits. You provide the numbers for their strategy but for them, all that is menial. That’s not the real meat of the company. You and all the other ants in the hill are dispensable.

You push your chair back as you reach into your bag for your notebook. As you do, the back collides with something. You quickly roll back in, knocking your head on the edge of the desk as you do. You rub your brow as you spin to face the obstruction.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you babble up at the tall man. 

He’s big, blond, and burly, and wears a suit that demarcates him as one of them. You don’t need an introduction, everyone knows who he is. The COO is memorable for more than his title. His booming voice and towering size set him apart from all the other men in their leather shoes and skinny ties.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you stand but still have to crane your neck to look at him, “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“That’s quite alright,” he smiles broadly, “are you alright? You took quite a bump.”

“Oh,” you drop your hand from your head, “yeah, I’m fine, sir. Thank you. I was just… looking for something.”

“So long as you’re alright. However, I am the safety officer, I could have a look,” he offers.

“Really, I’m fine,” you insist, “I didn’t mean to do that–”

“I didn’t mind so much,” he assures you, “I don’t know you. You’re new. Leah’s replacement?”

“Um, I think,” you look at your desk, “I wouldn’t know.”

“Of course not,” he accepts, “Thor Odinson.”

He holds out his large hand. You consider it and give him your own. Your hand is tiny in comparison as he easily wraps his fingers around it. You supply your name with a squeak.

“Ah, I like that,” he praises, “well, you have a wonderful day. And welcome to the company.”

“Yes, sir,” you rescind your hand as he releases it. His cologne wafts towards you, vanilla underscored by something woodsy.

“Thor,” he affirms.

You repeat his name and clutch your hands together. He lingers, looking you up and down, then turns on his heel. You watch him go before you sit.

You want to hold your head and hide. What did he think of you? This girl in her thin wool cardigan and lace-up sneakers. You don’t know why you care so much. He’s your boss but not directly. He’s probably already forgotten about you.

You cringe and swirl your mouse around. Focus. You’re at work. This isn’t high school or college. This isn’t about making friends and all that. It doesn’t matter what he thinks of you, your work matters.

You lean into the screen and squint at the tight boxes, increasing their size as you open a new report. For all your studying, you never saw yourself sitting there fighting with numbers all day. Percentages, rates, medians, mean… how boring.

You jolt as you feel your bag buzz against your leg. You look behind you before you push your chair out this time and bring your bag into your lap. You retrieve your notebook as you remember the cause of your first folly then fish out your phone. 

You bring down the menu and set it to silent. Before you hit lock, you see the message beaming back at you. It’s from Melanie.

‘Hey girl. Let’s talk.’

You frown. You’d already accepted that Mel was done with you. She was always good at holding a grudge, even for the slightest offence. You wonder if Clark really had talked to her. You leave it unread and tuck your phone away, dropping your bag back to the floor and shoving it away with your toes.

As you return your attention to your monitor, you sense something behind it. There, across the room, you meet Thor’s eyes as he stares at you. He has a red mug of coffee in his hand as he sips. He pulls the brim away from his lips and grins, sending a wink in your direction.

You blink and look over your shoulder. Who is he looking at? You turn back to face him again. He’s gone. Ah, whoever it was, must’ve caught up to him.

You shake off the collision and the text message. Work!

[elliesbelle]

nobody compares to you

chapter 9

pairing: ellie x reader

synopsis: you're in your junior year of college and at a party, you run into the girl who broke your heart: ellie williams. despite the time it took to reset your life, will you risk a broken heart again for her?

content warnings: modern college au, cursing, angst, descriptions of and allusions to physical altercations and violence, descriptions of alcohol, dealer!ellie, more loser!ellie, mentions of smoking and marijuana, ellie's POV, minors do not interact

word count: 3.7k

chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen

series masterlist

my masterlist

i have a ko-if if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

the "nobody compares to you" spotify playlist

featuring the song “it might be you” by stephen bishop:

Four Days Ago

“Ellie, what the fuck! Oh, shit!”

“The fuck! Th-the fuck…is your problem!”

“Shit! Ellie!”

“Chang, get…this–fuck!–cunt…off of me!”

“El–ow! Ellie!”

“I heard what you fucking said to my girl!”

“What are–shit…motherfucker!”

“Ellie, stop!”

“You..fucking…cunt!”

“Yo, bro, get the fuck off of her!”

“Is that…all…you…can do?!”

“Alright, fuck! Enough! Stop!”

Two Days Ago

Ellie had been walking around campus with her hood over her head and eyes to the ground all day. She’d been ignoring calls & texts from her friends and clients and, to her growing annoyance, Daniela. She’d attended all her classes, but she’d sit as far back as possible and avoid any interactions or eye contact. During her breaks, she’d find some remote spot behind a building or in a secluded stairwell to smoke in private.

It was late afternoon now and Ellie’d just dashed out of her last class of the day. She didn’t want to go home to her apartment where she’d get ambushed by Jesse and, most likely as well, Dina. But she had nowhere else to loiter where she’d be able to sulk and smoke in peace, and her phone was also dying.

The walk to her and Jesse’s apartment was barely ten minutes from campus, but Ellie made sure to stretch it out to almost twenty. She walked four flights of stairs instead of taking the elevator like she usually would. She couldn’t even hear the jingling of her keys over the deafening sounds of Kendrick Lamar blasting in her earphones as she unlocked the front door.

The previous evening felt completely surreal. Ellie would have assumed it was just some rage-induced nightmare if it weren’t for the throbbing pain in her black eye and bruised right hand. After Jesse was able to pry Frat Guy Adam off of her before he could do any real damage and hastily convince him that she was probably tripping off of this strong new strain she got, Ellie immediately shut herself in her bedroom for the rest of the night. The only thing Jesse could get out of her before she disappeared behind her door was, “I seriously can’t fucking believe she’s letting her fuck her again.”

As Ellie crossed the doorway of the apartment, the second verse of “HUMBLE.” was abruptly yanked out of her ears by Dina’s quick fingers.

“Jesus fuck—Dina!” Ellie fussed, irritated as she attempted to grab her earphones back.

Dina said nothing as she balled them up and shoved them into her back pocket.

“How the fuck did you even know I was coming?” Ellie grumbled, knowing full well that she, Dina, and Jesse all indefinitely shared their respective locations with each other on their phones.

“Let’s talk, El.” Dina merely sighed.

Ellie scoffed in response and held out her hand.

“Can I have my earphones back?” She asked.

“No.”

“Seriously?”

“Ellie, we need to talk!”

Ellie didn’t reply as she stomped off towards her bedroom. She was about to slam the door in Dina’s face when she was met with Jesse’s back turned to her with sandpaper in one hand and a paint scraper in the other.

“Uhh, what the fuck, dude?” Ellie asked, dropping her backpack on top of her desk.

“I knew you’d leave your knife in here for the next two months or so if I didn’t do anything about it.” Jesse replied, sanding down the area where the knife once was lodged into the wall.

Dina leaned against the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Told him that you were too attached to that thing to not yank it out yourself, but he insisted on doing it and cleaning up your mess. As per usual.” Dina said, motioning to the small bucket of white plaster by Jesse’s feet.

“Yeah, I’m not cleaning all that up, though.” Jesse said, gesturing to all the dust now covering a portion of the bedroom floor.

Ellie shrugged off her hoodie and hung it on the back of a chair. She spotted her now-unstuck switchblade on top of some books on her desk and quickly pocketed it.

“Okay, well, can you guys maybe get out of my room now?” Ellie huffed, collapsing lazily onto her bed before grabbing a comic book on her bedside table that she had previously been reading the night before.

“We can,” Dina replied. “But we’re not going to.”

Ellie rolled her eyes and flipped a page.

Jesse and Dina shared a collective look and a heavy sigh.

“Dude, we gotta talk about yesterday.” Jesse insisted. “You seriously can’t keep ignoring this.”

“What the fuck even happened, really?” Dina asked.

“What, this one didn’t tell you?” Ellie replied, nodding towards Jesse’s direction without looking up from her comic book.

“All he told me is that you got your shit rocked by some frat guy trying to buy from you.”

“Hey!” Ellie said, sitting up and throwing her hands up in the air in indignation. “I fucked him up!”

“Then why do you have a black eye?” Dina questioned.

Ellie grumbled something unintelligible and sat back down to return to reading. Dina rolled her eyes.

“All I did was introduce him to her and she just suddenly wailed on him.” Jesse explained to Dina.

“I already knew who the fuck he was.” Ellie said behind her comic book.

“Oh shit, yeah,” Jesse recalled. “She did say she remembered him, and then she went nuts.”

“Who was this again?” Dina asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“Adam Patterson from Sigma Eta.” Jesse replied.

“Yeah, I have no idea who that is.” Dina admitted.

“He came with our group to the diner the other night after the party,” Jesse said at the same time that Ellie said, “He was at Sterling’s with us.”

Dina’s knitted eyebrows straightened out in recognition.

“Oh, wait, was he that douchebag that sat next to—”

“Yes.” Ellie interrupted angrily.

Jesse and Dina immediately shared a look.

“Does this have anything to do with Abby Anderson?” Dina asked Ellie.

“Wait, what about Anderson?” Jesse questioned, eyebrows furrowing.

“You didn’t tell him?”

“Tell me wh—“ Jesse started but was cut off when his phone started buzzing furiously.

He took out his phone from his back pocket and frowned.

“Ah shit,” He muttered. “I gotta help Sidney set up with the open mic.”

“Now?” Dina asked.

“It’s every other Tuesday and I promised her.” Jesse shrugged.

He walked over to Dina to give her a quick peck on the lips before turning towards Ellie, pointing at her sharply.

“When I get back, I want to hear why the hell you’ve lost your goddamn mind.” He demanded of her before leaving the room. A few seconds passed before they heard the front door close behind him.

Dina sighed, uncrossed her arms, and strolled over to sit at the foot of Ellie’s bed. She unconcernedly shoved Ellie’s dirty Converse to the side, earning her a kick from Ellie which she easily dodged.

“Can you stop assaulting every single person you come across, Williams?” Dina said after slapping the foot that tried to punt her.

“Can you get out of my room?” Ellie asked, ignoring her question.

“Did you really try to beat the shit out of that Adam guy ‘cause of—“

“Why are we still talking about this?” Ellie immediately interjected.

“Because you’re out here attacking innocent people because of her!”

Ellie remained quiet as she sat up straight and placed her comic book back on her nightstand before replying.

“He called her a fucking queer, D.”

Dina blinked and stared at her.

“He did what?”

“When we were at Sterling’s the other night.”

“Oh, shit.” Dina whispered. “Okay, well, maybe not so innocent then.”

“No, he’s fucking not.” Ellie seethed, fists clenching.

“Okay, but it’s not really helping anyone if you get kicked out of school ‘cause you’re out here beating the shit out of some grade-A douchebag who most definitely deserved it,” Dina added, seeing that Ellie was about to interrupt. “Are you really that pissed off that she’s seeing Abby Anderson?”

“She can see whoever the fuck she wants. It’s really none of my business.” Ellie replied stubbornly.

“Ellie, c’mon, when are you going to face your fucking feelings for her for once?” Dina said. “You couldn’t man the fuck up when you were together, and now you don’t even speak to each other and you still won’t admit it.”

“Sorry that I’m too emotionally constipated for you.”

Dina rolled her eyes but then suddenly giggled.

“What?” Ellie asked.

“That’s probably the first time that you haven’t corrected me on the fact that you were together.”

Ellie kicked her softly.

“Oh, shut up.” Ellie retorted.

Yesterday

“You need to wrap that shit up better, El.” Dina said, gesturing to Ellie’s poorly bandaged right hand.

The sun was beginning to set, and Dina and Ellie’s shadows glided alongside each other on the brick pathway. Pink rays of light peeking from the sky hit Ellie’s freckles so beautifully that it almost distracted from her bruised eye.

“What? It’s fine.” Ellie shrugged.

“The wraps are already coming off, dumbass.” Dina noted.

“My bad, I’m not studying to be a doctor, unlike some people.” Ellie said, quickly murmuring the last part.

Dina merely rolled her eyes at this, refusing to engage further in Ellie’s growing vendetta against Abby Anderson.

They walked for about another ten minutes to reach the diner, chatting nonsensically about their classes and friends and some new asshole clients that Ellie had recently acquired.

Ellie had Dina laughing about her secretly charging some senior jock douchebags twice as much as usual for shamelessly hitting on her when they walked through the doors of Sterling’s. Ellie suddenly felt a strange ache in her stomach as they entered the restaurant. When she felt wary eyes on her, her discomfort was immediately explained.

Her gaze unintentionally met yours, her ocean green eyes widening in shock. The expression on your face mirrored her thoughts as her freckles turned bright pink. You both turned to your friends simultaneously in panic.

“Dina, what the fuck!” Ellie hissed.

“What?” Dina said, not realizing the situation they’d walked into.

“Did you do this shit on purpose?” Ellie demanded of her.

“What the hell are you going on about?” Dina asked, still clueless as she was busy looking around for the diner’s hostess.

“Can you please use your eyes for one second?”

“Wh—” Dina began but stopped suddenly when she saw what had caught Ellie’s rapt attention.

“Goddamn it,” Dina muttered. “Alright, hang on.”

Ellie watched as Dina marched over to the small table where you and Jesse were having dinner. Her eyes fell on you once more, remembering the last time she saw you with Abby Anderson. She suddenly felt a pang of guilt wash over her when she thought about the last conversation you’d had in the bathroom of this same diner, her eyes tearing away from your figure to stare at her old Converse.

God, I’m such a fucking dickhead.

She teetered back and forth on her feet as she felt shame seeping through her bones. She didn’t look back up until the diner’s hostess approached her.

“Hi, how many in your party?” She asked.

“Oh, uh, no. I’m here for pick-up?” Ellie replied.

“Oh gotcha, what’s the name?”

“It should be under Dina Woodward.”

“Okay! One second, ma’am.”

Ellie watched as the hostess headed to the back as Dina made her way back towards her.

“What the hell, D?” Ellie hissed.

“Seriously, I didn’t know!” Dina replied, throwing her hands up defensively.

“This isn’t funny!”

“El, I swear to god, I really had no idea they were gonna be meeting here.”

“You didn’t tell me that Jesse was hanging out with her tonight!”

“That didn’t seem like information relevant to you.” Dina said, crossing her arms.

“How is it not—”

“She’s not your fucking girlfriend, Ellie.” Dina pointed out.

Ellie looked taken aback as the hostess reappeared before them.

“Order for Dina Woodward?” She said, holding out a plastic bag.

“Yes?” Dina replied, but before she could reach for the food, Ellie had already grabbed it with her left hand and angrily shoved the entrance door open with her right.

She stomped away from the diner several feet away before Dina could catch up to her, far away enough for Dina not to catch the tears that she struggled to keep from falling.

Present Day

Ellie lays on her sheets, head at the foot of her bed and dinosaur sock-covered feet propped up on one of her pillows. She was senselessly and poorly strumming on her guitar. It was Friday evening and she was bored and all alone in the apartment, Jesse and Dina having gone out together on a movie date. She had contemplated going to the gym as she usually did whenever she was in a mood, but Dina had reprimanded her about her injured state enough that Ellie relented on spending a lonely night in. She strums lousily on the guitar with her injured hand, ignoring the throbbing of her wounded knuckles.

She’d finally texted Daniela back earlier that day, apologizing spiritlessly for not replying back sooner. She humoured Daniela’s flirty texts for a while until Ellie asked for Joel’s old jacket back, to which Daniela offered to come over to her apartment tonight to return. Feeling her intent, Ellie put her off by saying she had plans to meet up with several new clients all night and offered to meet up with her the next day instead. Ellie’d groaned when Daniela quickly responded with a text saying “it’s a date ;)” and immediately regretted the situation she’d pulled herself into.

Her fingers begin mindlessly plucking a succession of concordant chords, and it isn’t until a few moments later that she realizes she’d started to play an old love song that she remembers you’d liked so much.

It was an old 80s song called “It Might Be You” by Stephen Bishop. She’d often hear you thoughtlessly humming it to yourself or singing along to it when you’d put on your nearly ten-hour 80s playlist. She’d subsequently learned how to play it on the guitar to possibly serenade you with it eventually, only to never have the courage to do so when you were together.

Ellie exhales woefully, setting her guitar down next to her.

Why is she still everywhere?

She sits up to properly lay herself on her bed, flopping her head down onto her pillow before reaching for her phone that was charging on her nightstand.

Time to be a loser as usual again, Williams.

She sighs pathetically as she opens up Instagram once more, switching from her main account back over to br!ck_master2013. Even though Instagram already showed her recent searches (consisting only of you), she feels a pathetic sense of fulfillment typing out your entire username herself. Ellie taps on that same mirror selfie of yours which leads her to your profile.

You still have no new posts from the last time she checked, but she sees that you’d added something to your story sometime within the past day. She ignores the uneasiness in her stomach as she taps on the orange and purple circle to view what you’d posted.

You’d shared a few mutual aid posts earlier this morning (to which Ellie promptly saves to later donate to after her slight stalking), a picture that some of your old high school friends had posted of an up-and-coming band they were currently in, and a couple of new stories that causes Ellie to abruptly shoot up from her bed and promptly unplugging her phone from the wall.

“What the fuck?” She mutters out loud to herself, not in reference to the unceremonious way she stopped charging her phone, but to the Instagram stories that you were posting in real time.

Ellie taps furiously as she realizes that you were out tonight at the lesbian bar by campus, the Bow and Arrow. With Abby Anderson.

She makes a wild guess that you were likely drunk at the moment, judging by the silliness of your story captions. Your first bar-related story is a selfie you’d taken of yourself with the caption, “me going out to a bar to get smacked instead of being an old lady at home? quick, someone call the pope.” Despite the low lights of your environment, Ellie recognizes the shade of dark red lipstick you’re wearing.

That’s the lipstick she was wearing when—

Her thoughts are interrupted by her app automatically jumping to the next story, which was of you toasting your half-empty plastic cup with others that were being held up by faceless hands with the caption, “liquor, i hardly know her.” Ellie couldn’t help but chuckle out loud at your stupid joke. She would have bet her Jeep, her whole stash of weed, her beloved switchblade, and her entire precious comic book collection that the drink you had in your hand was a vodka cranberry.

Your next Instagram story drops a cast steel anvil down Ellie’s stomach.

It was a shaky picture of Abby Anderson making a mockingly pouty face towards the camera, holding out a credit card in one of her hands. It looked as if she and you were sitting at the bar, waiting to be served by a bartender. Your caption read, “hey siri, how do you beat up a buff, jacked lesbian who lives at the gym and won’t stop paying for your drinks all night.”

Ellie notices that you’d tagged Abby’s Instagram handle on the side and she promptly taps on it with trembling fingers. She huffs at her phone when she’s brought to Abby’s profile and sees that it’s set to private. She falls back onto her pillow and sighs.

“Ellie!!” You yelled after her as she stomped out of the Bow and Arrow.

She said nothing as she exited the bar and veered left into an empty backstreet lit only by the moonlight and a dim streetlamp.

Ellie walked further into the alleyway until she was a safe distance from any passersby. She took out a metal tin from one of her jacket’s front pockets and pulled out a tightly-wrapped joint. She tucked it between her teeth as she reached into a front pocket in her jeans for a lighter, promptly lighting the tip of the joint. She inhaled for a few seconds, letting the drug seep throughout her enraged body, then released an exhale towards the starry night sky.

She heard the agitated clicking of high heels and glanced down towards the main street to inspect whoever was approaching her. You were rubbing your hands up and down your arms, your favourite black boots nearly skipping down the alleyway to desperately generate heat in the frigid, unforgiving December air. You followed the familiar scent of lavender-laced marijuana into the dark street, spotting Ellie smoking alone.

Ellie watched as your shivering figure walked towards her, your despondent eyes eventually reaching her furious green ones.

“Smoking one of my js without me?” You teased.

“Your js?” Ellie asked, chuckling despite herself.

“Well, it’s my recipe.” You said, yanking the joint from her fingertips to place it between your lips which were painted with a dark shade of red.

“Oh, please, all you do is add buds of crushed lavender into them.” Ellie scoffed as the tip of the joint lit up once more from you taking a hit of it.

“Lavender buds are a key ingredient to creating these primo joints. It’s an intricate part of the process; ergo it is a recipe.” You insisted after blowing the residual smoke to the side.

“Besides,” You added. “You talk a whole lot of smack for someone who seems to copy my recipe all the time now, both for her clients and for herself.”

Ellie would have usually bantered with a witty retort, but she instead settled for an indignant huff.

After a few more hits, you handed the joint back to her.

“You done?” She asked you.

“Mhmm.”

She nodded, putting out the joint on the wall she was leaning against and placing what was left of it back in her metal tin. You stared at her as she did this, noticing that she was purposely refusing to make eye contact with you.

“Els.” You said.

“Mm?”

“Show me your hand.” You sigh.

“No.”

“El, babe, come on.” You insisted.

She exhaled and relented when her cheeks blushed at the term of endearment, holding out her right hand to you.

You took it in between both of yours, attempting to examine it under the dull yellowish light of the streetlamp. Your fingertips softly brush against her knuckles.

“Okay, not so bruised thankfully.” You murmured. “Does it hurt?”

Ellie merely shrugged in response.

“Els…” You whined at her stubbornness.

“I’m fine.”

You stared at her serious expression, still unable to get her to look at you.

“You dummy.” You chuckled lightly.

Ellie huffed.

You stroked her hand a couple more times before lightly placing a kiss on her slightly injured knuckles.

Despite the frigid winter air, Ellie immediately felt every part of her go up in flames. The only chilly part of her body was her hand which you’d brushed your cold lips against just moments before.

“Here,” She said, pulling her hand away from you so she could shrug off Joel’s old motorcycle jacket from her shoulders and place it on yours. “Baby, you’re fucking freezing.”

“El—”

“You’re freezing.” She repeated.

You smiled slightly before caving in to say, “Maybe a little bit.” Ellie chuckled.

“Elliie…” You began. “You didn’t have to do all that—”

“I know.”

“But—”

“I know.”

You tried to decipher her unreadable expression, your heart ready to burst as it beat rapidly in your chest.

“Why, Ellie? Why’d you have to take it to that extreme?”

Ellie’s ocean-green eyes were fierce and resolved. She brings her mildly bruised hand up to your face to intimately caress your cheek.

“You know why.” She whispers, finally meeting your gaze.

“I—”

The memory of staring into your eyes causes Ellie’s own to shoot open.

She’s still in her room, laying on her bed all alone with her phone on her chest and guitar on her side. The images of you in the alleyway of the Bow and Arrow replay alongside those of you and Abby so boldly displayed on your Instagram story tonight.

Ellie remains so engrossed in her own thoughts that she doesn’t notice all the hot tears rapidly streaming down her face. She grips her sheets and sighs.

“Baby, I’m so sorry.” She whispers to no one.

Maybe she’ll forgive me one day.

author’s notes:

so sorry for taking so long to write this! life has been hectic and messy lately, plus y’all know i’m a bit insecure about writing ellie.

thank me by liking and reblogging this because tumblr is acting tf up on my laptop and i had to do the majority of this on my phone

adam's name originally was a reference to a background character in tlou2, but his last name is loosely inspired by some asshole dude i dated once back in college named adam (who i kind of also home-wrecked but i really don't regret doing so lol)

anyway, while you’re here, go check out the new smau series i’m working on called “almost like we knew” ♡︎

taglist: @lonelyfooryouonly, @elliesinterlude, @sawaagyapong, @peppesgirl, @iconsoft, @maybeidohaveadhd, @ellieswifee, @valiantllamapersonpony-blog, @nil-eena, @echostinn

@uraesthete, @softbunlvr, @cherriesxinthespring, @amitycat, @thefishymissy, @yevheniiaaaa, @machetegirl109, @bertandfearnie, @ximtiredx, @efam

@elliesnumber1gf, @digit4lslut, @tayyyystan, @emothurman, @livvy-2000, @abigaillovestoread, @gold-dustwomxn, @liabadoobee, @yuckyfucky, @qtefolleunpez

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@awyunh, @kenz-ee, @marvelwomen-simp, @eleactric, @simpforellie, @omgidksblog, @anxiouso, @nyrastar, @lillysbigwilly, @hopeless-y

@elliesbabygirl, @alexpritch, @thestarsanctuary, @aethelwyneleigh27, @cass00x, @liabadoobee, @mulan-but-gay, @carmellie, @destielcore, @tfuuka

@elliewilliamsmissingfingerss, @sagestuffing, @ewwitsbella, @igoferalforelliewilliams, @miaelliesgfxoxo, @saturnvalentine, @elysiagyaru, @asteroidzzzn, @gay4jinx, @97cityy

@joliettes, @p1llowthoughtss, @ellieslegalwife

[ak319]

Lovesick Village Boy x Fem civil servant reader

《Beloved's Veil》

Part II

➺Part I

It's been two days since your arrival at Al-Razeh. Maha, your PA, poured tea into your cup and hers, and you both sat down, enjoying the evening and relaxing on your estate's lawn.

"The weather is nice today, Ma'am," Maha said, taking in the cool breeze.

"Indeed," you replied, savoring the calm. After a moment, you turned to her. "By the way, you’ve lived here all your life, right?"

"Yes, ma'am," she answered, glancing at you curiously.

"So... any folklore tied to this village? Since, you know, villages are known to be famous for such things." You smiled, lighting the mood with a bit of humor. “Often having their own stories.”

Maha chuckled softly at your inquiry and drew her chair a bit closer to yours. “Well, not exactly folklore, but there is this family. Personally, neither my family nor I are closely acquainted with them, but…” She took a sip of her tea, her words now capturing all your attention.

"They are the Jafaris--Kadir Jafari’s family, they own general stores here, two of them. He has three sons. The oldest two are married and have children, but their youngest… he’s always been something of an enigma around here.”

Your curiosity piqued, you snorted softly. “An enigma?”

“Yes, ma’am, an enigma,” Maha’s voice took on a tone of anxious seriousness. “He’s known for his extraordinary beauty. I have not seen him myself though. So, up until he was about sixteen, everything seemed fine. But then, he suddenly vanished from his friends’ lives and stopped attending school. Despite the family’s best efforts to conceal the issue, it eventually came to light that he was... possessed. The situation was dire, his agonizing screams were reportedly heard throughout the quiet streets. This was happening around the time of his second brother’s wedding. Guests at the house, including those from the neighboring families, overheard the commotion. The disturbances along with conflicts within the family caused tensions to rise, and at one point, it nearly led to the engagement being called off. Fortunately, the wedding went ahead, but Habib was absent, cited as being ill by his family.”

You listened with growing intrigue, though a pang of sympathy tugged at your heart. Such occurrences were tragically real, and often, people not only suffered but sometimes perished.

"Let me guess," you said, shifting your gaze to Maha, "you mentioned he was--no, is--beautiful?"

"Yes, that’s correct."

"Then black magic? Possibly from relatives?" You inquired, noting the surprised look in Maha’s eyes.

"Y-yes," she stammered. "I mean, that's what most of the people think. The cleric himself when consulted by some of the village elders, particularly Kadir’s friends, didn't reveal anything except that it was indeed something paranormal."

"That's often the case with such situations," you remarked. "Clerics typically avoid naming names if it's a matter of black magic. If you discover the culprit on your own, that's one thing, but directly asking the clerics usually only gets you vague responses. Or maybe the family didn't want the details out."

Black magic presented a confusing challenge when it came to legal matters. The laws were clear, if someone was caught practicing black magic, they faced severe penalties. Yet, the shadowy nature of these practices often meant that many perpetrators remained hidden. Clerics, bound by their own reasons, often withheld crucial information about those involved. In villages like Al-Razeh, such issues could be predictably common. To you, black magic was not merely a mystical concern but a serious crime. The victims deserved justice, and those who perpetuated such malevolence needed to be held accountable.

“Ma’am, how do you know so much about these things?” Maha’s childlike curiosity brought a smile to your face.

“Nothing special,” you replied, “just a hobby. So, how is the boy now?”

"Oh! I missed a part," Maha said, her voice dropping to a more serious tone. "People, like you mentioned, initially suspected the relatives because that's common in cases of black magic. But his brothers were also under suspicion. They always seemed to harbor resentment towards Habib. After all, he’s the most beautiful of them, so it wouldn't be surprising if they were involved. Men too get jealous over these matters."

With a pitiful sigh, you set your cup on the table and leaned back. "It breaks one’s heart to hear such stories--family turning against family. This... magic stuff is no joke. Deep-rooted jealousy can lead to such tragic outcomes, tearing apart lives and families."

"Indeed," Maha agreed solemnly. "But it could just have been a normal possession and not caused by magic cuz like I said, he is said to be very beautiful. He's reportedly doing better now, but he hasn’t left the house since then. It might be the cleric’s advice, or perhaps it's his parents' protectiveness or... his brothers' doing. Some people speculate that he might have died."

“What? Died? But didn’t the cleric solve his problem?” you asked, puzzled.

“Yes, he did. It’s just a rumor--he can’t be dead. You can't hide something like that for so long. People who are the family's relatives and friends, have seen him inside the house. So, he’s definitely there.” Maha chuckled, shaking her head at the absurdity of such rumors.

"What about the cleric? He still here?"

"Oh no, he was from some other place. Kadir called him here for his son's treatment." You hummed and took in the information. Then a subtle smirk graced your lips.

“It could have been a lover, too,” you suggested casually.

“What?”

You petted Milo, your cat, who had jumped onto your lap. “It might have been a lover who cursed him, someone who wanted him. One of the leading cause for black magic."

“He was 16.”

You laughed, “So? She could have been 16 too. Who knows? Anyway, did you put the reports in my study?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay, I’ll go freshen up.” You stood up, leaving Maha to enjoy her tea on the lawn. Your thoughts shifted away from the village story, focusing instead on the duties that lay ahead.

═════ ◈ ═════

Odai stepped into the small shop, removing his glasses as his gaze briefly settled on the figure behind the counter. What caught his attention were the eyes--unmistakably unique, as if they held a quiet depth. But the rest of the man’s face was hidden beneath a cloth, adding an air of mystery.

"Um, two packs of cigarettes." Odai glanced back at the car parked outside across the road. Through the tinted windows, he could see his reflection.

"I can't."

Odai’s head snapped back in surprise. Is he hearing things?

"Two packs of cigarettes, brother," he repeated, a bit more firmly this time.

But the man behind the counter shook his head again, those evasive eyes refusing to reveal more. What was going on?

"What?--what do you mean? It’s just a pack of cigarettes. Why are you saying no?"

"I-I can't sell them... I don't want to."

"Why? That’s your job! Why even own a shop then? Is this how you treat your customers?" Odai's frustration grew.

"No... I just don’t sell cigarettes... They’re harmful."

Was this man serious? Was he actually joking?

"Look, boy. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I need them, so I’m gonna ask one last time before I leave. Hand over the cigarettes."

But all he got in return was another silent shake of the head. That was it.

"Fine, keep running your business like this bud and you’re bound for success," Odai muttered, "And maybe don’t stock cigarettes in your shop if you’re not planning to sell them!"

He stormed back to the car, slamming the driver’s door shut accidentally. The noise made you glance up from your file.

"What’s wrong? Did you get them?" you asked, noticing his disgruntled expression.

"I’m so-rry, ma’am… um… the boy in the shop… he refused to sell. God, I can’t believe it--like, what even was that? But there's another store nearby so , we will go there." Odai stammered, frustration clear in his voice. Before he could shift into gear, you stopped him with a curious question.

"Wait, he refused to sell cigarettes?"

"Yes." Odai nodded, still baffled.

"That’s interesting. And did he say why?"

"They’re harmful." Odai’s ears flushed as he heard you chuckle softly. He wasn’t sure if you were annoyed or just amused by the whole thing.

"Now this is intriguing. Someone refusing to run their business properly... now that’s a case worth looking into." Still chuckling, you slipped out of the car before Odai could respond, but he quickly followed, his curiosity piqued.

Like him, you took in the scene before heading to the small counter tucked in the corner. There, the figure sat quietly, standing the moment you approached, his demeanor almost shy under your gaze.

"You’re the one who refuses to sell cigarettes because they’re harmful?" you asked, your voice curious yet firm.

He nodded. His eyes, though not meeting yours directly, seemed to speak in a language of their own--soft but full of meaning.

"Do you know who I am?" You wondered if the uniform might catch his attention.

A brief silence followed before his voice, barely above a whisper, reached you. "No.."

"I am the new DC."

"T-he DC?"

"That's right."

"I still… won’t sell." Odai huffed behind you, clearly irritated, but you hardly noticed. Your eyes softened, lighting up with quiet amusement at the childlike defiance. "Why? This is not how you run a shop, boy."

"I don’t want you....our… new DC to be harmed. I won’t let a pack… kill an honest officer."

For a moment, time seemed to still. Never in your life did you imagine hearing something so simple, yet so profound. His words, spoken with such gentleness, struck something deep inside you. Just who was this man? You could sense Odai’s stunned silence behind you, just as surprised by the unexpected warmth in those gentle words.

After clearing your throat, you finally asked, "What’s your name?"

"H-Habib, miss."

This… this is Habib? The Habib that Maha had told you about?

"They’re the Jafaris--Kadir Jafari’s family. They own general stores around here, two of them."

And here you were, standing in one of them. But how was he… here?

From behind a curtain serving as a door to an adjoined room, a man in his late fifties appeared, his presence steady and familiar. He moved to stand beside Habib.

'That must be Kadir, his father.'

"Oh! I’m sorry, I was just praying in the other room. How may I help you?" Kadir asked politely, his tone warm. Meanwhile, Habib stood quietly to the side, his gaze fixed downward, trying to shrink into the background, as if seeking shelter behind his father’s presence.

"Well, our DC wanted some cigarettes, and this boy refused to sell them," Odai interjected with a trace of frustration in his voice.

"Oh--I’m so sorry. Ma’am, please, forgive him. He’s new to this… and, well, he refuses to sell them to anyone," Kadir said with a chuckle that barely masked his embarrassment, as he reached for the cigarettes.

"No, it’s alright. Really, I don’t want them. And… you’ve raised a kind soul, sir," you said, your gaze briefly shifting to Habib, who still stood quietly, his presence almost ethereal. Maha was right. If those eyes alone held such depth and softness, then his face… You couldn’t help but feel a quiet curiosity bloom within you, wondering what beauty lay beneath the mask. Yet, it wasn’t a thought born of desire--no it was reverent. There was a satisfaction in knowing that Habib remained untouched by the eyes of envy or malice.

"I--thank you, ma’am. But, please, if you still want--"

"It’s fine." You smiled, your voice gentle. "I’ll just take those chips instead. Thank you."

Before leaving, your eyes found Habib’s one last time. For a brief second, he looked back, those soulful eyes meeting yours with a vulnerability that touched something deep inside you. And then, just like that, the moment passed. Something stirred in your chest as you made your way back to the car.

His demeanor, though shy and reserved, had an innate warmth that contrasted starkly with the pain you suspected he might have endured. Habib's eyes, so expressive despite their attempt to hide behind the mask of modesty, spoke volumes. How could anyone ever think to harm such a gentle, innocent soul? His kindness made him so pure, yet so brave in his quiet way. Your heart ached at the thought of someone cruel, someone arrogant, standing where you were now. If they had received the same refusal, what might they have done to him and his father?

Part III

(AN: I cried writing this due to the unspoken romance which is more to come and I just wanna give the biggest hug to Habib so bad 😭)

[mins-fins]

pearls.

&&. its easy to let go around you, mark is so glad he has you as an escape.

pairing: mark lee x m!reader

genre: angsty but it ends fluffy, idol x regular joe

warnings: mentions of overworking

word count: 1.4k

notes: wrote this for the n01 markf ever in the world!!!! if yk who you are, yk who you are 🫶 anw, i am so terribly in love with mark this is absolutely vile 🙁 save me from this insanely pretty canadian man (DONT SAVE ME), if you can forgive me for not updating for literally TEN DAYS, take this as my apology.. i am so so very corny so those little ending love confessions come from real words i have said to my own very real bf 😞 again sorry for not updating for very long my knee is pretty injured AND life is so shitty.. okay i love you all bye 😓

you won't try to come up for an explanation as to why you were up at one in the morning.

yeah you were tired, but you were still up making coffee in your kitchen. your mind was racing with thoughts of work, god your job stresses you out so much, it's going to end up killing you one day, you can't close your eyes without hearing the loud shouting of your manager and overbearing customers who think they own the world.

sleep has never came easy to you, so coffee at one in the morning it is. the aroma of roasted beans makes it's way around the air of your kitchen, a smell that has become a staple of comfort to you, yeah the excessive coffee intake might kill you someday, but right now? right now you felt like you were in heaven.

your coffee drinking is interrupted by a knock at your day, your head shoots up like your a deer caught in headlights, and you blink at the unmoving wooden door of your unit. you're not expecting anyone, and especially not at one in the morning. your mind races with questions as you place the heated mug onto your kitchen counter, groaning silently as you make your way over to the door.

you can't think of who could possibly be at your door, maybe your manager? one of your coworkers? a guy from amazon delivering a package originally for your neighbors?

the last option seems like the most probable one, so when you open your door, you prepare a small sentence for the delivery person you expect to be at your door. "for the last time unit 17 is on the second floo—"

you pause as you open the door, it is not a random delivery guy from amazon. when you look up to meet the eyes of the person who had knocked on your door, you come face to face with a person you had missed more than anything.

mark.

you find a small smile coming to your face at the sight of your boyfriend, but your smile falls as you take in how he looks. his eyes are red and puffy, he's fidgeting with his sweater strings, and he's bitten his lips so hard that they've begun bleeding. your lips turn downward at the sight before you, he looks stressed, he looks miserable.

"oh god, hi babe, i didn't even know you'd come around".

mark blinks at you, continuing to fidget with the strings of his sweater, the sweater he's wearing is one you bought for him back last year when you went on that trip to vancouver. "sorry" he whispers, blinking again. "i just— i don't know i feel overwhelmed".

you tilt your head, immediately getting what he meant by that. you open your door wider, pausing mark's fidgeting momentarily to grab his left hand to intertwine it with yours. "come in" you don't wait for his response, just tug his hand gently, lurching him forward into your unit and smoothly closing the door behind you.

you catch on to mark's heightened anxiousness, but he seems to be want to be avoiding that topic as much as possible. "did something happen?"

mark is quick to shake his head, way too quick, you narrow your eyes at him and his weird change in behavior. "no, nothing, i'm just.. work, it's all becoming just a little too much for me".

ah, a small frown forms again on your lips. mark is a hardworking person, you know that, but it sometimes all gets to his head, those unbearable thoughts that he's not doing well enough, the unbearable feeling of anxiety that settles whenever he thinks about his future as a musician, the feeling that he's not doing enough even though he already does so much.

you hate that this has become a familiar sight. a distressed mark with tears welled up in his eyes, clearly trying his best to stay put together as he stood in front of your door, each time, it seemed to be getting worse and worse.

you've seen mark at so many of his lows, many more than you like to count, and just the thought of him feeling like he isn't doing enough upsets you.

you're not thinking about anything else when you step forward, not your untouched coffee on the counter, not your shitty job, nothing but making mark feel better. your arms wrap around him instinctively, and you loop your left arm around his waist to pull him into a hug, a hug he doesn't try to fight.

you hear a small sniffle leave mark as you tighten your hold on him, a few years escape his eyes, wetting the top of your sleeve, but you don't care, much too busy embracing him. "i'm sorry, i'm so sorry" your words are nothing but a small whisper in the expanse of your apartment, as if a secret shared only between the two of you, but mark hears your words well, he hears everything he has to. you raise and press a kiss to his forehead, an act of affection that just makes mark even more emotional than he expected.

"you shouldn't have to feel like this, you work so hard, you do so much.."

your mutters only get a small chuckle in response, and you just snicker as well.

mark has always found it easy to let go around you, it's been a staple of your relationship since forever, even before you began dating. around you, he doesn't feel like he has to put on a show, he doesn't have to live up to all of these unrealistic expectations. with you, he doesn't have to be world famous idol mark lee, he doesn't have to be star trainee mark lee, he doesn't have to be perfect, flawless mark lee.

with you, mark can let go, he can just be himself.

mark has no idea what he'd do without you.

when you pull away, arms still caged around mark, he doesn't let go immediately, head still pressed against your shoulder.

nothing else matters at the moment to you. so, instead of trying to move away from him, you let him begin moving you backward, you just allow for him to, lightly squeaking when he pushes you onto the couch and quickly moves to lay on top of you.

you giggle at his dedication, but he doesn't say anything more, just wraps his arms around you and lays his head onto your chest, listening to the beating of your heart. "you tired?"

mark just nods against your chest, letting out a small sigh as he cracks one eye open to glance at you. "y/n?"

"hm?"

"i love you.." he mutters, grabbing your hand and lacing his fingers with yours. "love you so much, i'm so happy i have you".

you laugh. "mark—"

"hush" he places a finger against your lips, cutting off your oncoming words. "let me finish" he gives a tired smile as he continues.

"i can't believe how lucky i am to have you, your always here taking care of me and i.. i can never figure out how to repay you, you're one of the best things to ever happen to me, everything becomes much more bearable with you, i love you so so much it's literally driving me crazy".

you blink as you listen to mark pour his heart out to you. he has always been like this, oh you're so in love, even at some of his lowest points, he never fails to remind you that he loves you, and that he feels so deeply for you. his words always strike you in a strange place, they always get a smile and red face out of you.

oh mark lee always knows how to leave you speechless.

"hey" you whisper, noticing mark slowly looking away from you. "you don't have to repay for me for anything, i'm your boyfriend, i'm always going to look after you because you're wellbeing is important to me, and don't start with all of that, you're one of the best things to happen to me".

mark snorts silently. "love you".

"love you more".

mark leans closer, moving his soft hand against yours. "i know" he whispers.

you run your fingers through his hair, slowly coaxing him to sleep with your ministrations.

"good".

[r--kt]

Good boy Tobi. Why is he acting this way?

"oh yeah, it was just Zetsu" a-ha, not even close. here I'll talk specifically why Obito resorts to roleplay, and why he is comfortable with the images of Madara and Tobi. (obviously because it's not being himself but let's dig deeper)

contents | responsibility · regrets · a sense of control · conclusions

Vol. 31 CH. 280. Tobi's first appearance.

sure this looks like another defense mechanism that allows Obito to avoid reality, especially when interacting with people. full coverage, imitation of someone else's voice, name change, personality change etc. his clothes literally look like armor, and I'd like to think that hiding and protecting himself "just because it feels right" is exactly the point (no need in armor, he's intangible, so that's a psyche). the very way he completely depersonalizes himself shows that on a subconscious level he is not comfortable being in the conditions he finds himself. this alone may indicate that he is not very happy with his position of a faceless world saviour. and this is his first damn appearance.

Tobi is another manifestation of Obito's escapism, which is the central theme of his story. I have identified three advantages of using Tobi's image for Obito, and all of them will be described below. maybe you'll find some more, feel free to reblog and add your thoughts!

Responsibility

escapism is just stress-relieving. for him, the roleplay was a way to relieve tension from the responsibility that he had imposed on himself. "no one in the whole world can do it except me" must be really exhausting. so what if I just don't be myself for a while? what if I be the one who can make a mistake? it's important to be frivolous and let things go sometimes, otherwise the psyche will be disturbed even more. so, that's the first advantage, that allowed Obito not to go completely crazy.

Regrets

CH. 652

as I said, Obito is not very happy with his position. even though he believes that tsukuyomi plan is correct, this doesn't negate that he is unhappy to fulfill it and suffer the hardships because of it.

during the war, we can see that Obito really regrets that he hadn't live his life the way he could, with his friends and dear ones. he began to ask questions: "could I have a better life?" "who have I become?" "who does my friend see me as?" these feelings burst out only at the culmination, before that they were deeply suppressed, with the help of detachment from reality, which Obito achieved mostly thanks to the image of Tobi. a ridiculous stupid guy who talks nonsense and does not pretend to be any role other than a comic relief. another personality allows Obito to distract himself from the real problems, which he can't reconcile.

CH. 281 idk what an idiot. love him.

in order to avoid all these dangerous thoughts for as long as possible, he came to this escapist behavior. it is not only a convenient tool for manipulation (I'm not really touching on that in this post, though it's important too), but it also distracted him from all his regrets. though, it's funny that he still chose orange and purple colors that probably reminded him of the past.

A Sense of Control

it seems to me that this is the most important reason to pretend to be either an inept, complaisant fool or a legend of the Shinobi world. why these two extremes?

many events in Obito's life showed him that no matter how he acts, he will still be punished, which means he personally has no control over anything. during the exposition, he is late helping the old ladies, but Kakashi condemns him no matter what. during the first turning points, he commits morally correct actions in order to end up first being mutilated and isolated, and then lose the most precious (and only) thing he really had: friendship with Rin and Kakashi. in the end, he does not even have control over his own body until he learns to control the mokuton and gets used to the constantly breaking off or deforming limbs. Madara and Tobi appear as other personalities who are able to achieve control under certain conditions and give Obito the necessary mental stability.

CH. 460

Madara is the epitome of control. the ghost of the Uchiha clan, the fear of which is alive many years after his death. by taking on a character who has more control than Obito did in real life he might feel quite cathartic and empowering, and it offered him a sense of emotional security (the mask helps with it physically, the personality and famous name — mentally).

while Tobi, besides an attempt to make up for lost childhood, is a demonstration of "the lowest standards" so that for once in his life, he did feel that he always met expectations, that more was not required of him. he's incompetent, he messes up, he's irritating, and therefore others don't expect anything else from him. yes, Tobi is judged and punished, but Tobi is not trying to be praised, so his own expectations are not broken.

CH. 359

Madara's personality is convenient because it's dominant, it controls others, inspires them with a certain fear and submission. Tobi's personality is convenient because with its help Obito choose to show fear and submission himself whenever he wants, that is, it does not become an unexpected blow for him. I would add that similar mental mechanisms work in many types of traumatic experience (not talking about his sexual deviations like moderate sadomasochism yet, the man is clearly traumatized).

does it all work? obviously, yes. there's no point in explaining that this whole Madara thing worked perfectly. Tobi, although condemned by Deidara, is at the same time accepted and encouraged by him a bit, simply because it is pointless to expect anything from him. however, this works as long as the fictional personalities do not overlap, as long as others believe in the reality of both.

CH. 396

another interesting topic is that Obito himself began to mix these personalities and demonstrate the falsity of one, which deprived him of the very opportunity to avoid reality (Madara clearly reminds him more of the responsibility on his shoulders than Tobi) and relieve the constantly increasing stress. therefore, starting from the moment when "Madara" shows that "Tobi" was just a cover, Obito loses the advantages of Tobi's image, suppressed regrets gradually surface, stress accumulates, the sense of control disappears for lack of any new personality other than his own (which has problems with control). and all these consequences falls on him during the war.

Conclusions

the reasons for this defense strategy appeared in Obito due to his low self-esteem, which was facilitated by the following. the early death of Obito's parents was most likely at the age when he was too young, and therefore psychologically this loss was fixed as "I was left because something was wrong with me. I can't be loved naturally, I need to deserve it first". because of that there was a constant attempt to be better, to reach the level of a genius opponent, who not only shows with all his appearance that you are not enough, but also constantly pokes you in your own shit like a puppy. and that's not the only situation where you're not that good. there's a lot, actually.

such an environment forms an attitude "to get recognition, I need to try harder than anyone else, because something is wrong with me". subsequently, this attitude is transformed into a new one: "I cannot get recognition in any case, which means I will achieve recognition, respect, attention through pretending and forming other personalities". and that's how Tobi appeared.

I don't even know what to add at the end. it's just great that you can see the depth in Obito, even when he's acting like a moron. here's some admiration for this silly guy

[shaybreezy-17]

More Than Friends (Zoro x Reader)

some more short lil one shot action of the worlds sexiest greatest swordsman 😉😋. enjoy! <3

(*TW: explicit/sexual language/content*)

It had been almost a month since the day you confessed your feelings to Zoro. Things went downhill between the two of you after that…

Since then, he had completely shut you out of his life, avoiding you any chance he got. He couldn’t even stand to be in the same room with you, besides during meals, and sometimes not even then.

You casually walked around the Sunny before deciding that Zoro was probably in the Crows Nest.

As you made your way up the ropes and the ladder, you felt your heartbeat speed up.

You slowly crept behind him, hoping you wouldn’t have to face him just yet.

He had his back turned to you, drenched in sweat, lifting a loaded barbell.

You mustered up the courage to speak once he put the barbell down, “H-hey, Zo?”

He flinched at the sound of your voice. “I was just finishing my workout. Gonna head out now.” He began to put the workout equipment away, never looking in your direction.

You felt tears welling up in your eyes, but you fought hard to hold them back, biting your lip so hard you began to taste blood. Not again…

“Oh, okay.” You paused, “I was just, uh, hoping that we could talk about what I told you a couple wee-“

He cut you off, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “We don’t, there’s no need.”

You stood there. There really was no getting through to him…

You felt a lump form in your throat but you mustered up the courage to retaliate a sour response. “Alright well, I just thought I should let you know that I no longer like you so you don’t need to worry about that anymore.”

Without even uttering a reply, he walked right past you towards the exit. Tears began to fall down your face the minute your face was out of his sight, but you remained silent so he wouldn’t hear you cry.

He disappeared down the hatch, presumably down the ladder. Without turning around, or moving a muscle, you let yourself go.

You began to sob violently as no one would hear your pain and suffering up here in the Crows Nest anyway.

An array of things went through your mind. You felt so ridiculous for exaggerating like this, but it was how you felt. Weeks of bottling up the sadness of not being by Zoros side like you were as friends forced this reaction out of you and you couldn’t help it…

You wished you’d never tried to be more than that, just friends.

You buried your face in your hands, praying the visual of pure darkness would silence your thoughts.

As you tried to catch your breath, you felt a pair of calloused hands touch your bare shoulders. You were too afraid to turn around, shutting your eyes in fear. You felt so embarrassed that someone might’ve heard your little breakdown a moment ago…

A pair of muscular arms wrapped around your body, as you were being enveloped in a hug from behind.

“Do you really like me that much?” A voice spoke huskily. Not just any voice. You recognized it anywhere- Zoros.

You felt butterflies explode in your stomach for a moment before you remembered he’d been ignoring you for almost a month…

Wiggling out of his grasp, you turned around and shoved him with all your might. He didn’t move a muscle…

“What was that for?” He clutched his chest, pretending to be wounded. “Where’s this hostility coming from?”

You shoved him again. “You’re a real asshole, you know that?” And again. “Since you didn’t seem to hear me the first time, I said I don’t fucking like you anymore. Not after you pushed me away all month.”

He grabbed your wrists. “Oh come on! It was like two weeks.”

“Three to be exact!” You retorted, clear frustration in your tone.

“I was gonna say “who’s counting?” but clearly you were, stalker.” He smirked, still grasping your wrists.

You shook your arms, trying to break free, to no avail. “I’m not even stalking you, idiot! Now let me go, you’re hurting me.”

The smirk disappeared off his face and he immediately let you loose. He began to rub your wrists, muttering a quick “sorry”.

“Just leave me alone, okay?” You spoke softly, indicating your newfound defeat. “I didn’t need you to come back here out of pity when you heard me crying.”

His eyes met yours, a pained expression on his face. “Y/N… I’m just not good with this sort of stuff, feelings or whatever, but I didn’t come out of pity. I came back because I care, stupid.”

“Neither am I, Zo.” You replied, cupping his cheek. “I guess I just wanted to get better at it with you but you didn’t even give me a chance, dork.”

“Look, even if I did feel the same way about you and wanted to give this a shot, I’m lost…” His cheeks turned a light shade of pink at your touch and a sense of desperation filled his tone. “Tell me what I need to do, Y/N.”

The neediness in his voice was enough to push you over the edge. “For now just kiss me, you idiot.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and his arms instinctively found your waist, pulling you in for his lips to meet yours. He kissed you aggressively, showing your tongue no mercy. You didn’t know he could express this much passion for something other than sword fighting, unless the one going on in your mouth still counted.

Oblivious to you, Zoro had been actively avoiding you because when you admitted your feelings for him, you sparked something within him for you he didn’t know was there.

When you told him you liked him, he pondered on how much time the two of you had been spending lately. He couldn’t help but realize that he was happy whenever you were around whether it was the two of you sharing a drink or two, or the surge of confidence your presence gave him whenever you watched him workout because he couldn’t bare to let you watch him fail a set.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air. It had made you both absolutely feral. Staring into each others eyes, he picked you up and backed you up against the wall, letting you wrap your legs around his torso for extra support.

“You can call me a stalker again, but I might’ve dreamed of this moment once or twice…” You chuckled.

He grinned, thinking about how he dreamt and fantasized about you an ungodly amount of times throughout these three weeks. “Yeah, well, you were in a few of my nightmares. Tried to kill me every single time.”

“Oh shut up, dick.” You rolled your eyes playfully. “I knew you liked me the minute you let me get you in the bath.”

“I-Eh?” He glared at you in genuine confusion, “What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“You despise baths but you’d take one with me whenever I asked,” You smirked and leaned in inches away from his face, “That’s when I knew I had ya.”

He leaned in even closer. Your lips were practically touching and the anticipation was sending waves of adrenaline through your body.

His gaze deepened, “Yeah? Well I knew I had you a moment ago, when you were sobbing over me.”

“Nothing you say can knock me off my high horse when I’m giving you a raging boner right now.” You sassed back.

His face went from pink to red as a tomato. “H-how the hell? I’m literally carrying you around my waist, there’s no way you felt that!”

“That kiss we just had.” You giggled, finally having the courage you needed to catch him off guard, “That and- just thought you’d wanna fuck me as bad as I want you to right now."

Without hesitation, he licked his lips as he began to fumble with his waistband, holding you up with his other hand.

“Wha-What are you doing?” You stuttered nervously, looking down at the hard penis that sprung out of his pants. “We really doing this?!”

Your stomach turned in knots at the nervousness, but you felt your pussy getting wet at the sight of it, nonetheless.

“You know me, I never miss out on a good challenge.” He began to lift up your dress, letting his arousal towards you overcome him, “Oi, got any panties under there?”

You shook your head ‘no’, silently thanking your past self for being delusional enough to ditch the undergarments on the off-chance that Zoro came to terms with his undying love for you and decided to fuck your brains out… which was actually about to happen now…

“Good.” He flashed you one last devilish grin as he aligned his thick cock directly below your already soaking pussy, slowly lowering you on to him, “They would’ve just got in my damn way.”

[last-starry-sky]

kinktober day 19 - first time // tattoos

gaz x f!tattooartist!reader

[MDNI - NSFW - MIND THE WARNINGS: 1k, power imbalance: boss/employee, age gap and experience gap, lil bit of dry humping and kissing but no sex.]

tag list (lmk if you'd like to be added!): @slut-lmao, @mishaglass

“So . . . what was your first like?” your boss asked you from across the room.

You were both cleaning up after closing the shop up for the day. Your three other fellow artists had “volunteered” you to stay over, quickly leaving out the backdoor so that Gaz, your boss and the shop’s owner, wouldn’t catch them. You didn’t mind. It came with being the most junior artist, this was your first real job out of apprenticeship and you were the youngest. It didn’t help that you were the lone girl and they were all ex-military, just like your boss. Who were you to argue with them? You took your lumps, antibacterial wipes in hand, and helped out.

His question made you hands shake, dropping the wipe as your mind raced for an answer. You crouched down behind the chair you’d been cleaning (Soap’s, you think) to grab it. It had the advantage of hiding your suddenly flushed face. What should you say? The truth? You huffed as you stood, crumpling the flimsy piece of cloth into a ball and tossing it into the trash. You didn’t plan on talking about your personal life this soon, let alone revealing how little there was. 

“Me?” you squeaked, trying and failing to sound disinterested as you grabbed another wipe. You avoided Gaz’s stare as you cleaned the back of the chair, your eyes following the wet streaks before they dried. “I, ah- I don’t really-”

“‘s okay if it wasn’t anything special,” he thankfully interrupted, a small smile on his lips. He leaned back against the supply counter, wet mop playing between his lean fingers as he talked, cleaning forgotten. “Most people’s isn’t.”

You let yourself laugh. Gaz was a good guy, a great boss too. While the other guys had been nice, they still let you know that you were at the bottom of the pecking order, Gaz stood up for you. Maybe he had ulterior motives, you had a different style than the other guys and drew a different crowd. He had to keep you happy to keep you here, after all, and that kept your clients coming in the door and spending money.

“Don’t feel bad if it was right mess in a friend’s basement or somethin’ like that,” he said walking up behind you. He flipped the mop to peel off the scrubby pad before tossing it in the same trash you were using. “Nothin’ t’ be ashamed of.”

You knew he was just trying to be nice. Making friendly, well, more than friendly conversation, really. You took a deep breath and swallowed your nerves. It was something that would come out eventually, you might as well tell him here and now, while you were alone. 

“I haven’t, Gaz,” you said with a shrug of your shoulder. You couldn’t face him as you admitted it. “I . . . just never . . . you know . . .” you trailed off, waiting, expecting, a response.  

“What?” he asked. You chanced a look his way. His head was cocked to the side, eyebrows pushed together in confusion. “How . . . how is that- No. That’s not possible,” he rambled, shaking his head. 

“Well, obviously it is,” you said as defiantly as you could with your cheeks still burning. You were honestly getting sick of being here, being questioned about your lack of a sex life. You honestly wanted to run out right now and never face your boss’ pretty face again.

Gaz’s hand landed on your shoulder, making you face him. His thumb shuffled the neck of your sweater to the side, revealing your collarbone. You started to sweat, thinking and expecting the very very worst until he started to speak.

“But love . . .” he said stroking his finger over the scrolling lines that feathered over from the large piece on your shoulder, “you have a shit-ton of ink.”

Your mouth fell open. “Oh my god,” you muttered, hiding your face in your hands. Your hands still reeked of alcohol. “I’m so fucking stupid.”

Gaz laughed, mop clattering to the floor as his whole body shook. You realized how much you loved his laugh as his strong hand squeezed your shoulder. It made you smile. When his laughter finally tapered off, his hand remained, stroking over your exposed skin. 

“Ah, it’s all good,” he said turning his beaming smile on you. “Was just chattin’ to pass the time. Know how it is. Would rather hear you talk about this now, though,” he said, smile turning dastardly.

“I . . .” you started, brain blanking, as his arm reached around your back, curling you into his chest. “There’s not much else to say, honestly,” you managed to get out before the flexing of his chest and arm muscles made you blush, crashing your brain again. 

Maybe this is why you were really still a virgin. Anytime a hot guy who was worth a damn gave you attention you turned into a flustered mess. Gaz backed you away from the chair and back to the counter. You didn’t fight him.

“‘course there is,” he said pulling you so his hip fit up against the front of your fly. The contact, even through both his and your jeans, had you shaking. His other hand grabbed your bicep, squeezing lightly before stroking down to hold your wrist. Good lord, it looked so small in his hands. “So much to talk about, love” he whispered into your hair, “like how far you want this to go.” 

His pointer finger reached out from his grip on your wrist, catching your belt loop to drag your pussy along his leg. You shuddered as a breathy, unexpected, gasp was punched from your throat.

“Gaz,” you hissed, low and embarrassed as if anyone would be wandering in at this hour. “You’re- I'm- We can’t be-”

“Says who?” he asked, leaning his head away to look down at your face. “Says who?” he repeated, hand releasing your wrist to tilt your head up to face him.

 He shuffled to the side, rolling his hips along the edge of the counter. It was a small motion, but the friction against your clothed sex had you tingling, pussy clenching and (most likely) drooling into your panties. Your eyes closed, teeth catching your bottom lips just in time to swallow the moan he drew from you.

“Touch me, love,” he whispered, breath fanning over your face as he pressed to your lips. “Won’t bite,” he continued with a sigh as he pulled away.

[highway-tuna]

When The Morning Comes

pairing: Danny Wagner x Reader

wc: 2.4k+

warnings: none

summary: Seems like it's just your luck that you get sick right before a date. But not just any date, a Valentine's Day date. But not just any Valentine's Day date, a double Valentine's Day date with your good friend, Danny. So much for being a good wingman. With nothing better to do, you settle into your coziest blanket and sulk, doomed to spend your Valentine's Day evening alone. Or so you think...

a/n: I saw @seenoversundown's GVF Valentine's Day Writing Event and decided to workshop this regular idea I had in the backburner to something more in theme! Hope you enjoy, I've written fan fiction in general for a long while, but this is actually my first one-shot. Happy Valentine's Day!

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“I know, I know!” You groan into your phone, staring down at the bright, red glow of the electronic thermometer. You’d been feeling under the weather since this morning, but you didn't think it was this bad. The sleek dress hanging from the closet door practically mocks you while you already beat yourself up. “I didn’t think I’d feel this… shitty. I’m sorry.”

Danny chuckles over the phone, seemingly unbothered. “You sure you aren’t faking it? You’re always somehow not feeling well right before events.” He sucks his teeth and you can only imagine his dumb disapproving smirk. “Seems pretty convenient, (Y/N).” 

“It’s not convenient, Daniel. It’s bad luck.” Collapsing into your bed, you sigh, practically radiating guilt. “Especially tonight. I feel terrible having to bail on this date. It’s like my first real date since…” A grin creeps its way across your lips as you giggle at the thought.

“Since our date?” The both of you begin laughing, a clear confirmation of his response. Danny was simply a friend of a friend of a friend before you two had met. New to the area and looking to start dating, a friend of yours thought Danny would be the perfect match for you. Instead of allowing you to interact in any way beforehand to let things naturally take its course, the casanovas that were your mutual friends decided the blind date approach would be best. And of course it wasn’t. The chemistry just wasn’t there. You were awkward. There was a lot of dead silence and extremely polite small talk. To make matters even worse, everyone had failed to mention he was fresh out of a relationship. Only after the fact did he tell you he wasn’t even looking for a relationship, that our friends had basically forced him to go on the date.

Lucky for you, he was always interested in making friends and that’s what you became. Good friends. Really good friends, in fact. Joined at the hip, your friends would say with a tacked on eyeroll for good measure. “Yes, since our date. No one could treat me nearly as well as you did that night.”

“Oh? Is that why you haven’t been on any other dates?” You both laugh at his quip, but it does leave a strange feeling in your chest. Unbeknownst to Danny, he was the reason you hadn’t been on any other dates. Sure, the date didn’t really leave you with any feelings, but once your friendship blossomed so did your unrequited crush. Being around Danny just felt… easy. Which is exactly why you had to leave it as is. It’s such a cliche, but it’s cliche for a reason. He’s basically your best friend at this point. To make things awkward or face rejection from one of the most important people in your life is something you’d go through hell and back to avoid. “I guess I’ll just have to cancel the date.”

Just the thought makes you feel even more guilty. “Danny, no. You can’t just ditch the girl. On Valentine’s Day, no less.” It’s a bit comforting that you don't have to go on a double date on Valentine’s Day and watch the man you’d rather date, date someone else. “Oh man, I should probably call him to cancel, right?”

“It’s fine, I’ll-”

“You’re going on this date, Danny. Let me know how good it went tomorrow, alright? Bye!” You end the call intentionally before he could utter another word. Searching for your date’s contact in your phone, you get a text notification that simply says one word.

Asshole.

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

Bundled up on the couch watching reruns of old shows isn’t how you expected to spend your Valentine’s Day, but here you are. Your eyes fall to the time on your phone. 7:36pm. If that damn thermometer didn’t say you had a fever, you could’ve been out right now at a fancy restaurant, eating fancy food, dressed all fancy. Probably still feeling like shit, but at least you would’ve looked great. Not like how you look now: hair matted down from resting in your pseudo blanket fort, eyes dark and weary, falling in and out of consciousness. It’s an exhilarating time. 

Grabbing the phone, you scroll mindlessly online and occasionally check the status of your DoorDash order. A little comfort fast food should make you feel better, right? It’s supposed to be here soon. As you swipe through your socials, you see a picture of… your date and Danny’s date together? Which wouldn’t be too weird except for the fact that Danny is in none of these pictures. Your first instinct is to send the pictures over to him with simply a question mark. A few moments pass and you see that he sees your message, but doesn’t respond. Asshole.

A knock on your door startles you from staring at your phone. With an achy groan, you stand from your couch and peer out your window, hoping to see someone with a bag of food walking from their car, but no. Nothing from this view. They really must’ve dropped it off and zoomed away. You swing the door open, desperate for your food.

“Danny?” His name leaves your mouth in shock before you even process the rest of the view. A beautiful bouquet in hand, dressed equally as comfortable as you, and… your bag of food? You point at the brown paper bag, very confused. “How did you-”

“He was bringing it out the same time I was walking up to your door so he just sorta handed it to me,” he laughs, whether it be at the situation or at your general look of shock, staring at him with mouth slightly agape. It’s as if he could read your mind, ready to question him. “You really thought I was gonna let you spend Valentine’s Day by yourself, (Y/N)?”

“Well, yeah! You had a date!” You weakly shove him and chuckle.

“It’s fine. She was understanding. I had someone I needed to take care of.” The flush of your cheeks are impossible to hide. Narrowing your eyes, your mouth opens and shuts as you try to find a rebuttal, but nothing comes out. Accepting your defeat, you step aside and silently invite him in. He hands you your bag of food and beelines straight for the kitchen.

You watch him with your head tilted while he scavenges through your cabinets. “What are you doing?” He mutters something, but you can’t quite catch it. “What- Oh.” He pulls out a vase and fills it with water, setting the bouquet inside. With an almost childish look of pride, he stands beside it and gestures with his hands.

“For you.”

“Thank you… for the hand-me-down flowers.” He shakes his head, making his way back to your living room. A gentle squeeze of your shoulder while he passes that will surely echo in your head the entire night.

“I got them specifically for you. I canceled right after our phone call. These plans-” He motions to everything around him before tossing himself onto the couch, clearly getting comfy right beside your sick blanket pile. “-were already in motion.” 

You sigh before sitting beside him, wrapping your blanket around your shoulder and placing your bag of food on the floor. “You really didn’t have to. Plus, you’re gonna get sick.” His hand waves dismissively and he tugs on your blanket, now wrapping around both of you. This closeness between you two isn’t unusual by any means, but tonight, there’s just something different about it. Maybe that’s hope or delusion talking. Or maybe you’re just loopy from cough medicine. Probably that. 

Grabbing your food, he takes a handful of fries and puts them in his mouth. “I never get sick.” You snatch the bag back and start eating as well, begrudgingly sharing with him. Falling into idle chatter, the two of you get more and more comfortable. His arm draped over your shoulders, your head practically nestled into his neck. Just friends being friends. He really came here on Valentine’s to do… absolutely nothing with you. 

Your eyes begin to slowly flutter shut on occasion, the weary and tired energy taking over you. “You okay?” He pulls away ever so slightly to glance down at you, just checking in. That small retreat from him causes you to instinctually latch onto him. The vibration of his soft laughter reverberates against you. “Alright, let’s get you to bed.” You groan, but comply as he stands from the couch, leaving you with an empty space that you long for him to fill. He takes your hand and guides you to your own bedroom.

Like a moth to a flame, your bed calls out to you. Without moving the top sheets or decorative throws, you face plant directly into a pillow and let out a heavy sigh of relief. It’s almost enough to forget about Danny, admiring you with a soft chuckle. You roll over and look up at him, standing at the foot of your bed. Just the image is enough to make you blush, considering this scene in another circumstance, but you quickly shirk those thoughts. Something suddenly comes to mind. “Oh, check my vinyls. I got a new one,” your voice comes out slow and groggy, tinged with your sleepy smile.

He steps over to your record player, crouching down to look into your box of vinyls. Sitting right in front is Hall & Oates Abandoned Luncheonette. You watch as a small grin crosses his lips. “One of my favorites,” he plainly mutters, sliding the record out of the sleeve and putting it on the turntable. When The Morning Comes starts to play, filling the space in your room. 

“I got it because I remembered you talking about it. Hall & Oates is also just great so,” you mumble, the sleep still pulling you in and out of consciousness. Your eyes close for a moment and you feel the bed shift beside you. Opening them slightly, you glance over to see Danny laying beside you, his fingers tapping on his chest along to the beat of the song. Without a word, you cuddle up to him, resting your head against his arm. “Staying the night?”

“Of course.”

“Good.” You both chuckle at the response. It’s a little forward of you, but with how tired and weak you are, you let your walls come down. “Y’know, I’m really glad you came over tonight.”

“There’s nothing else in the world I’d rather do than spend time with you.” His eyes fall on you while he adjusts, bringing you into his arms. “Even if you’re practically dead right now.”

“I am.” You’re honestly glad the meds and the illness are making you as loose as you are right now. Because otherwise you’d be through the roof with all this attention and affection he’s giving you. “So dead, but I’m still happy you’re here. Does this count as our second date?”

He laughs and shrugs. “If it is, I think it went way better than our first.” His fingers absentmindedly rake through your hair as you continue to drift off. A small silence falls between you before he quietly speaks. “Maybe we should try that again…” Hearing that shocks you, but physically, you can’t hold your exhaustion back. A small mhm leaves your lips as you fall unconscious.

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

Sunlight pours into your bedroom, casting a soft glow across you. You yawn and try to stretch, but feel an assortment of your limbs tangled with something else, someone else. Looking over, Danny’s fast asleep, his arms wrapped around you in a bear hug, his legs intertwined with yours. It causes you to chuckle, but deep down, your heart races being so close to him. His dark curls falling over his face, his soft lips parted ever so slightly, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes deeply.

In a moment of selfish desire, you take his hand in yours, trailing your fingers with a gentle touch along his skin. A twitch causes you to quickly withdraw. You feel him stir in his sleep, but he only pulls you closer. “Morning…” His voice, groggy and husky, almost startles you just as much as it intrigues you. It’s as if you can feel his hesitation, a hesitation you share as he loosens his grip, allowing you to fully turn and face him. Just inches apart, a strange feeling between you two lingers.

“Morning. Sleep well?”

“Amazing.” You can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not. “I can feel your sickness in my immune system as we speak.” Yeah, sarcasm.

“Well, I actually do feel better now.”

There’s a short pause, a moment where your eyes lock and a shared chuckle occurs. “Just admit you wanted me all to yourself last night, that you weren’t sick at all.”

“I was sick, but…” Feeling emboldened, you shoot back, “Maybe it was both.”

“Did you… hear what I said last night? Before you passed out.” For the first time in a while, you hear what seems to be nerves from Danny’s voice. Just in bringing it up, it seems obvious that he was being genuine. Something you would’ve casted off as just a joke because he wouldn’t really want to go on another date with you, surely. 

Your eyes can’t help, but quickly flit between his lips and his own dark eyes, staring straight through you. “I did.” It’s as if he’s holding his breath, waiting for you to answer with actual awareness this time, but you hold back. If something like this is truly happening, you want him to fully repeat it.

“Do you want to try again?” The moment only grows in intimacy once his hand slowly comes up to your face, pushing aside strands of hair. “I think we’d have a better shot this time, (Y/N).”

You nod, causing you both to smile. “I think so too.” His eyes do the same dance as yours, admiring your lips. Accepting the invitation, he leans in, connecting his lips to yours. It’s a sweet and safe kiss, very brief. “You usually kiss girls before the first date?”

He laughs and shakes his head, rolling his eyes in a playful display of annoyance. “It’s basically our third.” 

“God, our third date. Things are going pretty well for us, I guess.” Another kiss is shared before you pull away, giggling. “And we just missed Valentine’s Day. That would’ve been a perfect date.”

“What do you mean? Wrapped up on the couch with you coughing all over me was my dream date.”

“Oh, you’re definitely gonna get sick.”

“And it’ll definitely be worth it.”