#thank you for staying to the end of the tags

[elryuse]

Press Record

Julie X Male Reader

Tags : Record Sex, Naughty, Romance, Obsession, Cowgirl, Sweaty

Words : 2,813 Words

This Fic Is Dedicated to My Friend @Pizza_anon. Thanks once again For the Commission My Friend. I hope You Guys enjoyed it.

The first time Julie glanced my way, I felt it like a jolt of electricity. Her green eyes, sharp and calculating, locked onto mine across the crowded dining hall. For a split second, her infectious smile flickered, replaced by something darker, more predatory. I should’ve looked away, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. That was my first mistake.

“You’re new, right?” she said, sliding into the seat across from me like she owned it. Her voice was low, teasing, and carried an edge that made my stomach twist. “I’m Julie. You’ve probably heard of me.”

I had. Everyone had. Julie wasn’t just a name; she was a reputation. The girl you didn’t cross, the girl who could turn your life into a minefield with a single smirk. But up close, she was magnetic—her messy dark hair, the way she leaned forward like she was about to share a secret, the faint scent of cherry lip gloss that made my pulse quicken.

“Yeah,” I managed, my voice steady despite the knot in my chest. “I’ve heard.”

Her lips curved into a smirk. “Good. Then you know not to waste my time.”

She stayed for exactly three minutes, just long enough to leave me flustered and confused, before disappearing back into the crowd. But that was just the beginning. Julie had a way of inserting herself into my life, like a storm I didn’t see coming. She’d show up at parties, corner me in hallways, and text me at random hours with messages that ranged from ”You’re cute when you’re nervous” to ”Don’t make me come find you.”

And then there was the night at her friend’s party. The night she pulled me into a bedroom, locked the door, and whispered, “Let’s film it,” like it was the most natural thing in the world. My heart raced, my hands trembled, and I should’ve said no. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Because when Julie looked at me like that, with those piercing eyes and that devilish smile, I wasn’t just a target—I was something she wanted. And that was all it took.

Now, we’re alone in my dorm room, the air thick with tension. My roommate’s out for the evening, and Julie’s perched on the edge of my bed, her legs crossed, toe tapping idly against the floor. She’s wearing a leather jacket that’s too big for her, making her look smaller, more vulnerable. But I know better. Julie’s always in control.

“Let me film you,” she says, her voice low and steady, devoid of the teasing tone she usually uses. This isn’t a joke anymore. It’s a demand.

I swallow hard, my throat dry. “Julie…”

“Don’t ‘Julie’ me,” she interrupts, leaning forward so her face is inches from mine. Her breath is warm against my skin, and I can smell the faint hint of coffee on her lips. “You know you want to. You always do.”

“It’s not just about what I want,” I try, but she cuts me off with a sharp laugh.

“Bullshit. It’s always about what you want. You just won’t admit it.” Her hand finds my thigh, her fingers digging in just enough to make me wince. “You like it when I push you. You like it when I take control. Don’t act like you don’t.”

I want to argue, to tell her she’s wrong, but the words catch in my throat. Because she’s not wrong. Not even close. There’s something about Julie—the way she challenges me, the way she makes me feel alive in a way no one else ever has—that I can’t resist. It’s dangerous, intoxicating, and I know it’s going to end badly. But right now, I don’t care.

“Fine,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “But just this once.”

Her smirk returns, and she pulls her phone from her pocket, setting it up on the dresser with the camera angled perfectly. “That’s what you said last time,” she teases, sliding her jacket off and tossing it to the floor. “And the time before that.”

I don’t respond. Instead, I watch as she climbs onto the bed, straddling my lap with practiced ease. Her hands find my shoulders, her nails digging into my skin as she leans in close, her lips brushing against my ear. “Let’s see how loud I can make you,” she whispers, her breath hot against my skin.

And then she’s kissing me, hard and demanding, her tongue sliding against mine as her hips grind against me. I lose myself in the sensation, my hands gripping her waist as she takes control, her movements confident and relentless. I can feel the heat building between us, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until it’s almost unbearable.

“Julie,” I groan, my hands sliding up her back, pulling her closer. She responds with a low hum, her nails dragging down my chest as she breaks the kiss, her eyes locking onto mine.

“Say it,” she demands, her voice rough with desire. “Tell me you want this.”

“I want this,” I breathe, my heart pounding in my chest. “I want you.”

Her smile is wicked, triumphant, and she leans in to kiss me again, her hands tangling in my hair as she moves against me. The sound of our breathing fills the room, mingling with the soft creak of the bedsprings as she takes what she wants, leaving me helpless to resist.

And then she pulls back, her eyes glittering with mischief as she glances at the camera. “Let’s give them something to talk about,” she says, her voice dripping with satisfaction. Before I can respond, she’s moving again, her hips grinding against mine in a way that makes my breath catch.

“Julie,” I gasp, my hands tightening on her hips as I feel myself getting closer, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until I’m on the edge. She doesn’t slow down, doesn’t give me a moment to catch my breath, and I know she’s not going to stop until she gets what she wants.

“That’s it,” she purrs, her voice low and sultry as she leans in close, her lips brushing against mine. “Let me see you come undone.”

I don’t last much longer after that. The tension snaps, and I’m lost in the sensation, my hands gripping her hips as I spill inside her. She doesn’t stop, her movements slowing but not stopping as she rides out the aftershocks, her eyes locked on mine.

“Good boy,” she whispers, her voice soft and satisfied as she leans in to kiss me. But before I can respond, she’s pulling away, reaching for the camera and turning it off. “Now,” she says, her smirk returning, “let’s see who’s brave enough to ask what happened tonight.”

I watch as she slips her jacket back on, her movements casual and unhurried, like we didn’t just… like this wasn’t… I shake my head, trying to clear the fog in my mind, but Julie’s already at the door, her hand on the knob.

“Same time next week?” she asks, glancing over her shoulder with a smile that’s equal parts sweet and dangerous.

I don’t answer. I don’t need to. Because we both know I’ll be here just waiting for her. And she’d love that more than anything…. “You’re not that hard to figure out,” she smirks, turning the door open and walking out with not a care in the world.

The door slammed shut behind her, leaving me alone in the silence of the dorm room. My heart was still racing, my mind a chaotic swirl of desire, guilt, and something dangerously close to obsession. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I didn’t know how to feel. All I knew was that Julie had left her mark on me—again—and I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to scrub it away.

The next week passed in a blur. I tried to focus on classes, on friends, on anything other than the promise of her return. But it was no use. Everywhere I looked, I saw her—her smirk, her eyes, her lips. She haunted me, even when she wasn’t there. And then, just like she said, she came.

It was late. The dorm room was dark, the only light coming from the streetlamp outside the window. I was sitting on the edge of my bed, staring at the wall, when the door flew open without warning. Julie stood in the doorway, her hair a mess, her eyes red and puffy. She looked wild, unpredictable, and more dangerous than ever. I froze, unsure of what to say, but before I could even think to ask what was wrong, she was on me.

“He fucking cheated on me,” she spat, her voice shaking with anger as she slammed the door shut behind her. “That piece of shit had the nerve to lie to my face, and I believed him. I actually fucking believed him.” Her hands were trembling, her chest heaving with every breath. She looked broken, but also furious—like a wounded animal ready to lash out.

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even have time to process what was happening before she was in my face, her hands gripping the front of my shirt. “Do you know how that feels?” she demanded, her voice rising. “To give someone everything and have them throw it back in your face like it’s nothing?”

“Julie—” I started, but she cut me off.

“No. Don’t talk. Don’t say a fucking word.” Her eyes burned into mine, and for a moment, I thought she was going to hit me. Instead, she kissed me. Hard. Her lips crashed against mine, desperate and angry and raw. I could taste the salt of her tears, the bitter tang of her rage. She wasn’t asking for comfort. She was taking what she needed.

Her hands were everywhere—pulling at my clothes, clawing at my skin. I didn’t resist. I didn’t want to. There was something electric about her in that moment, something that made me forget everything except the feel of her body against mine. She pushed me back onto the bed, climbing on top of me with a ferocity that took my breath away.

“You’re going to make me forget him,” she said, her voice low and trembling. “You’re going to make me forget everything.”

I didn’t argue. I couldn’t. She was a storm, and I was caught in her chaos. Her hands tugged at the waistband of my pants, and within seconds, they were on the floor. She didn’t bother with finesse or foreplay. She was too angry, too desperate. She straddled me, her thighs pressing against my hips, and I could feel how wet she was through the thin fabric of her skirt.

“Julie—” I started again, but she didn’t let me finish.

“Shut up,” she growled, her hands gripping my shoulders so tightly it hurt. “You don’t get to talk. You don’t get to think. You’re just going to take it.”

And then she was on me, sliding down onto me with a gasp that sounded more like a cry of pain than pleasure. She didn’t stop, didn’t pause, didn’t give either of us time to adjust. She just moved, her hips grinding against mine in a rhythm that was as punishing as it was intoxicating. She was fucking me, but it didn’t feel like sex. It felt like revenge.

Her nails dug into my chest, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. She was crying again, but I couldn’t tell if it was from anger or pain or something else entirely. Her body tightened around me, and I could feel every shudder, every tremor, every flicker of emotion that she was trying to drown out.

“You’re mine,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “You’re fucking mine.”

I didn’t argue. I didn’t even think. I just let her take what she needed, gave her what I could. Her body was slick with sweat, her skin hot against mine. The air in the room was thick, heavy, charged with raw, unspoken emotion. She leaned forward, her lips brushing against my ear, and I could feel her breath, warm and shaky.

“I hate him,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I hate him so much.”

And then she was coming, her body tightening around me in a way that made my vision blur. I followed her over the edge, unable to hold back any longer. She collapsed on top of me, her breathing ragged, her forehead pressed against my chest. For a moment, neither of us moved. I wasn’t sure if it was over, or if this was just another pause in the storm.

She lifted her head, her eyes meeting mine, and for the first time since she’d walked in, she looked vulnerable. “Don’t ever lie to me,” she said, her voice soft but deadly serious. “Don’t ever fucking lie to me.”

I nodded, unsure of what else to do. She stared at me for a moment longer, her eyes searching mine, and then she leaned in and kissed me. It was softer this time, slower, but there was still an edge to it—a reminder that she was in control, that she always would be.

“Good boy,” she whispered against my lips, and then she was pulling away, her body slipping off mine. She reached for her skirt, pulling it back on with quick, practiced movements. She didn’t look at me as she dressed, her face a mask of determination.

“Julie—” I started, but she cut me off with a sharp look.

“Don’t,” she said, her voice cold. “Just don’t.”

And then she was gone, the door slamming shut behind her, leaving me alone in the silence once again. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my body still humming with the memory of her. I didn’t know what had just happened, or what it meant. All I knew was that Julie had blown through my life like a hurricane, leaving destruction in her wake, and I was already craving the next storm.

The first time she left, I thought it was over.

The second time, I knew better.

Julie had always been like this-hot, cold, here, gone. She never stuck around long enough to let things settle, never gave me a chance to ask what any of this meant. Maybe that's why I let it happen. Because I knew if I tried to hold onto her, she'd slip right through my fingers.

But she kept coming back.

The first time was a week after that night. My phone lit up at 2 a.m. with a single message.

Unlock your door.

And like an idiot, I did.

She didn't say a word when she slipped inside.

Just pulled me into her, fingers curling in my hair, mouth already on mine like she'd been starving for it. She never let me ask questions, never let me talk about what we were doing. She took what she wanted, and I let her.

It became a pattern.

Julie would vanish for days, sometimes weeks, and just when I started to think maybe I was finally free of her, she'd find her way back. A text. A knock on my door. A hand on my wrist when she caught me in the hallway between classes, her grip just tight enough to let me know she still had a hold on me.

And every time, I let her in.

Every time, I let her ruin me a little more.

But something was different now.

The first time she left, I thought she was running from me. Now, I wasn't so sure.

She started lingering after.

Not much-just a few minutes longer, just long enough to catch her watching me when she thought I wasn't looking. Just long enough to notice the way she hesitated before pulling her clothes back on, like she wanted to say something but didn't know how.

Just long enough for me to start wondering if maybe, just maybe, she was getting addicted, too.

Then one night, everything changed.

I wasn't expecting her. It had been two weeks since I'd last seen her, and I was finally starting to believe she was done with me for good. And then, out of nowhere, she was at my door, pounding so hard it made the walls shake.

When I opened it, she pushed past me without a word, her hair a mess, her hands trembling.

"Julie-"

"Shut up," she muttered, her voice unsteady. "Just -just let me stay."

And for the first time, she didn't touch me.

She didn't rip my clothes off, didn't press her lips to my skin. She just climbed into my bed, curled into herself, and closed her eyes.

And I knew, then and there, that I wasn't the only one craving the next storm.

She was, too.

And maybe-just maybe-this time, she was afraid of it.

[ldydeath]

Let's Make This Count | Kang Dae-ho

Summary: You've entered into Squid Game to help pay off some debts, not expecting your best friend, Daeho to be there. You both will do anything to proect each other, no matter the cost.

Warnings: Typical squid game stuff.

Author's Note: This is my first time writing Dae-ho. If you'd like to be tagged in future fics of his, please let me know.

Life has been hard lately, which is why when you’d been presented a chance at fixing at least one of those things, you’d jumped at the chance. You however, hadn’t been expecting this to be a game of death. You’d heard player 456’s cries to listen to him at the start of the game, but like everyone else you had ignored him. That was until that girl moved during red light, the chaos that had ensued after that had you praying to gods you didn’t believe in to keep yourself safe. You’d been in Squid Game for a few hours now and already had the blood of your competition splattered over you. You were definitely in over your head and needed to get out. 

Thankfully, the pink suits had announced a vote and you prayed everyone would agree to send you home. You’d been standing for what felt like hours waiting for your number to be called, listening to play 456 plead with everyone to leave the games. He’d been here before so you were definitely going to take his advice. Once your number was called you made your way quickly to the front, voting to go home. You may have needed money, but you’d find another way. You weren’t going to die over some debt.

As you were putting your x badge on your jacket your eyes caught sight of a familiar, gorgeous face and your breath caught in your throat. No. He couldn’t be here. Why was he here? Daeho’s eyes met yours and his brows crinkled in confusion. You shook your head and made your way to your spot. There were too many people around to talk comfortably yet and you weren’t exactly sure it was safe to announce that you knew someone else in the games. That mother and son duo seemed to be the only exception to that rule, and you weren’t about to chance it. After play 001 voted, the pink soldiers announced that there would be another game in the morning, panic rising in your body.

Trying to act normal, you turned to head towards your bunk when you felt a hand on your arm “don’t touch-“ you let out a breath, thankful you didn’t have to fight for your life when you came face to face with your best friend. “What are you doing here?” He hissed, panic in his eyes. You shrugged out of his grip, crossing your arms defensively. “I needed money. What are you doing here?” 

His hand went to his hair, fixing the bun that sat on top of his head and nodded in the direction of some empty bunks.  “I also needed money, why else would I be here?” You raised a brow as you followed him towards the private spot. You wanted to know what he could possibly need money for, but Daeho was so private you knew you’d never get that answer. Even if you were his best friend. “You shouldn’t be here, Dae.” You sighed as you leaned against the wall. 

You couldn’t protect your best friend, not from this.  After Daeho enlisted in the Marines you had a never ending supply of worry in your body for him. Constantly fearing the worst, him being here was going to distract you from staying alive. Your heart raced at the thought of either of not making it out and your eyes found his. “I can’t lose you.” It came out as a whisper but you knew he’d heard you as he moved closer to you.

His hand moved to cup your cheek, “Come on, I’m a Marine, I’ve got this. And I’ve got you. We’re going to get out  of here. I promise.” You nodded, moving to lean your head on his chest. You knew it would be bad if anyone caught you panicking but as Daeho's hands wound around your body you allowed yourself to take a few minutes to collect yourself. Perhaps it wasn’t normal to feel so much comfort from a friend, but you weren’t ready to dive into those feelings, not yet. “We don’t die.” He murmured against your hair. “We don’t die.” You repeated. He grinned at you before walking you over to your bunk, making sure nobody messed with you as you got sleep. 

The next game was a team game, Daeho took the lead in finding you a group, being the friendlier person in your duo. You’d somehow managed to end up with player 456 and player 001. You said a nervous hello and stuck close to your best friend. After you completed your task perfectly, the team cheated, Daeho pulling you in for a quick side hug as you marched forward. For a second, with his arm wrapped protectively around you, you almost forgot that you were fighting for your life inside these games. 

After the game had ended you stood with your newly found team, waiting for the next vote. You had all agreed to vote to go home again so when it was your turn to vote, you proudly hit that x and put the badge on your jacket. Almost as if on instinct, Daeho moved to stand next to you as you awaited the rest of the votes. As the final four players made their way to the front, your hand reached out, grabbing his, he gave you a squeeze in response. Your heart raced at the touch and you looked down at your entwined hands before meeting your best friends’ eye.

So, maybe you had a crush on your best friend, maybe that was why you were so afraid to lose him. Either way, this wasn’t the time to start admitting your feelings, so when he smiled at you you smiled back and pushed those thoughts down, hoping that these votes would go in your favor and you’d be able to go home. A groan rang out amongst your peers and you looked up to see that there was only one vote left and you’d lost. Your mouth hanging open in shock as you turned back to Dae.

Another game? Why would anyone want to stay here? “Let’s Go!” someone shouted from across the room and you looked around spotting the purple haired man high fiving his friend. Of course he’d be excited to stay. “Hey, look at me.” Daeho’s hand was under your chin moving your gaze back to him, your heart racing as you locked eyes. Daeho had always been in tune with your mood, and would do anything in his power to keep you calm and safe. You were the most important person in his life and even in a game of literal life and death he was going to do whatever it took to make sure you weren’t living in constant fear. “We’ll get through this one together too, okay?” You swallowed the lump in your throat refusing to let the rest of your team see you so defeated and nodded. “Yeah.” You agreed. 

“Let’s go get some food and talk strategy for the next time.” He held his hand out for you, a reassuring grin on his face and you eagerly took his hand following him to your new found team. You weren’t sure you wanted to be close to anyone else in the game, but you also knew you couldn’t keep Dae alive without some help so you were going to do whatever it took to keep him alive, even if that meant making nice with people who all had one goal in mind. You scooted closer to Daeho, your hand resting on his leg and he grinned at you as he started eating his food. You didn't care if you made it out of here or not, so long as he did.

[always1star]

the time we were together

toxic!sukuna x fem!reader (although can be read as gn?)

tags: angst, college au, cursing, arguments, use of y/n, alludes to sex (but nothing explicit, i dont write smut), cheating, yearning, closure, happiest ending i could make tbh, no part 2 im sorry

a/n: i didn't mean to write this but for some reason it just happened so enjoy my first fic lol. also this is NOT PROOFREAD

WC: 2.7k

You and Sukuna have been going out for some time now, maybe about five months. You met him at some random frat party. You had just been broken up with by your boyfriend of two years, and so you went to a party and took anything and everything anyone gave you. You were feeling super sick and all you really wanted was solace. After a while of sulking in the corner of this random disgusting frat house, you decided it was time to go home, as at this point you were high and drunk completely out of your mind. You gathered your things and attempted to stumble your way to some kind of exit. On your way out, you accidentally ran into this huge hunk of a man with bold tattoos. You started sobbing when he caught you, tears staining and fists clenching his shirt. He was absolutely bewildered and as people had begun to stare, he grudgingly took you home. After that night, you kept running into this random man you sobbed to on campus, and the rest was history. 

Although you and Sukuna have been going relatively steady for a while, you had hit a point in your relationship in which all you did was argue. And it is generally understood that after the honeymoon stage everyone often disputes with their partners, but Sukuna was terribly vicious. He often brought up how insecure you were, how it was your fault you were raised the way you were, how easily he could replace you. To say the least, Sukuna was an ass. He damaged your core like no one else could and it desperately hurt you to be with him. Still, you stayed by his side because you loved him, and hoped he felt the same way. You hoped because he would hold you as you cried, kissing away your tears, and whispering how sorry he was. You always forgave him, even if he did it time and time again. 

During the first stages of your relationship, Sukuna welcomed your presence. You two hung out often, and although not ordinary dates (he often took you to race on his motorcycle or would take you to sketchy parties), you had fun and were happy because he was there with you. Sukuna never was really into speaking reassuring or affirming words, but instead showed his affection with his actions. His hands would always be roaming your body, and you liked feeling the warmth of another person. He did things without you asking, like buying something you mentioned you liked or holding you even when you swore you were ok. While you smiled brightly and thanked him, he would just grumble “it’s whatever.” You would always laugh and giggle with him, and even though he never really laughed back himself, he entertained it. Sometimes you would catch him staring, and there was a look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite name. There was no doubt that he held a sentiment of adoration for you, maybe he even loved you. But now? His eyes only seemed to hold disappointment, anger, and annoyance. 

You had known from the second you met him that it would not be easy to be with him. He’s got a difficult, harsh, and cruel demeanor. You had hoped that maybe he wasn’t really like that, and that maybe he just had this bad-boy delinquent front to cover his vulnerabilities. Well, you were right, to say the least. But is the Ryomen Sukuna really going to be vulnerable around you, some random girl he met a few months ago that he just likes to use as a bed warmer? Hell no. You meant absolutely nothing to him and he couldn’t seem to get that message through your head. All this time, you thought that maybe he was just being difficult but that didn’t change the fact that he still maybe held a passion for you. 

One night, a particularly bad argument came up. It started as something that was completely meaningless. Him coming home a little late, you telling him you were too busy to cook dinner and that tonight you guys should just go get takeout, him mumbling that he was too tired to go out and that it’s nothing you can’t do on your own because you were a big girl and could handle these things. You apologized but said you, too, were too tired, and therefore did not want to cook. Sukuna’s temper just kind of blew up. “Are you fucking kidding me? You can’t even do this one little thing? You aren’t fucking helpless, Y/N. I’ve spent all day studying and working for you, and how dare you still expect more shit from me? Haven’t I given you fucking enough?” He threw his hands up in irritance, shouting at you, the previous exhaustion in his voice seemingly gone. “I’m sorry, I was just busy tod-” you tried to reason, but he quickly interrupted. “Busy? You were fucking busy? How the hell do you think I feel, huh?” He was walking towards you, and you were being backed into the kitchen counter. “Are you useless? No! You can’t even do small shit like this. How unloveable can you possibly be?” He continued to ramble and yell into your face, but you stopped listening. You rapidly tried to blink your tears away and to calm your shaky hands. Did he really just say that? You’re unloveable?

Eventually, Sukuna left the apartment with nothing but his coat and his car keys, mumbling something about how this is fucking unbelieveable under his breath as he slammed the front door shut. Your ears were ringing due to the newfound silence, the only thing being heard was your staggered breathing. 

A couple of days later, Sukuna still had not returned to your apartment. You assumed he had gone back to his. Neither of you had spoken a word to each other in two days, and you were becoming restless. You had to apologize to him, whether you were at fault or not. You texted him you were on your way as you started your car. You noted that as you were on your way, he never replied to your message. You approached his front door and rummaged through your purse to find the spare key to his apartment. As you unlocked the door, you took a deep breath in and recited your apology in your head. 

When you opened the door, the apartment was relatively cleaner than it usually was, save for the clothes littering the floor. Your brows furrowed as you noted a pink camisole and bra on the floor. Those definitely weren’t yours. Your heart was rapidly thumping, the sound filling your ears. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, and stormed off to find Sukuna.

You burst through his bedroom door to see a naked Sukuna and some girl you’ve never seen before. You watched as her eyes widened and as she scrambled to find some way to cover herself. She ran out the door past you. You were still standing in the doorway, frozen in shock. You held your mouth slightly agape, unsure of what to say or do next. Unperturbed, Sukuna sighed as got up from the bed to find his shorts somewhere on the floor. He ran his hand through his sweaty, almost drenched hair. Wasn’t he being way too casual about this? You found the strength in yourself to speak up. “How could you do this to me?” you weakly spoke, sounding as fragile as your now shattered heart. Sukuna put on his shorts and looked at you without shame, an agitated look painting his face. “I don’t owe you an explanation.” He continued to find his shirt. “What? We’re dating Sukuna. You can’t just-” you stammered, and he stopped you right there. “I’m not your boyfriend and you’re not my girlfriend,” he articulated every word like it was the most obvious thing ever. Your heart dropped. “And clearly, you didn’t think that. I liked what we had, Y/N. But if you’re going to be all possessive like this, then we should end things.” What was he saying? “What? Suku-” He deeply sighed and his voice began to rise. “Get out! Don’t make me say it again.”

Ryomen Sukuna had broken your heart. Really, he stole it from your chest and smiled at you as he crushed it in his hands. The next week after the “break up” for you was absolutely terrible. You skipped all of your classes, meals, and sleep. You just wallowed in bed, wondering what could possibly make you so unloveable. To think that he never really loved you – wait, did he really never love you at all? You recalled that you never said I love you. Those three words held a heavy weight, but you were thinking about how you didn’t need to say it to prove your devotion to him. It kinda made sense now. You should have never assumed your place in a man’s heart who didn’t have room for anyone, let alone you.

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

Five months later…

Sukuna found it nice to be freely sleeping around again, finding himself at parties, clubs, bars, always having a girl on his side. Sukuna always woke up next to a new girl every morning (girls he never remembers the names of), quickly kicking her out so he didn’t have to deal with whatever she thought was between them. He would go on late night rides with his friends (that you never really liked) and would come home to drink a cold beer wearing only his boxers. Life was good to him.

But as Sukuna came home one night after a thrilling night out, he thought it just wasn’t as fun as it used to be. He plopped down on the couch and cracked open a beer and turned on his TV. Still, he felt something was missing. Maybe he missed the thrill of making it home and spewing lies to the girl in his bed. Maybe he missed the heated arguments and sorry's just to repeat the cycle. . Maybe he missed coming home to a home-cooked meal. Maybe he missed the warmth of another person. Maybe he missed hearing a certain voice. Maybe he missed waking up to a familiar face. Maybe, he missed you. Wait, what? That’s not true. He shook the thought away, thinking that he just missed having authority over someone. 

He was obviously lying to himself. Sukuna wondered what could fill this odd feeling in his heart. It was evident that the sex, drugs, and alcohol was no longer doing its part for him. He stopped going out and now spent his time in silence and solitude. He began to think about you, and he wondered what you were doing. He wondered how you would react if you saw him again. He wondered what you did after you lost contact with him. He wondered what you looked like now, if you were just as beautiful.

He needed to find you, whether it was for the closure for his flaming conscience or that needed to know if you still felt the same in his arms, he didn’t know. What was he feeling bad for now? Sukuna was never one to have genuine apologies or have feelings of guilt in shame. What was it about you that made him feel this way? Sukuna wanted – no, needed to put a label on this aching feeling, and then throw it out. 

It was a new semester, and Sukuna hadn’t seen you around campus. He realized that he still really wanted to see you, but he knew you wouldn’t react well. He didn’t care too much though, he just wanted to fix whatever was wrong with him. 

One day, Sukuna saw you on campus in the courtyard that was in front of one of your major’s buildings. You looked the happiest he had ever seen you. A smile was plastered on your face as you laughed with some friends. The same smile that he struck off your face. Sukuna used to think he liked your crying face more than anything, he thought your stupid smile was childish, but now he thought you looked so beautiful smiling. He silently watched you, something holding him back from approaching you.

Sukuna often spotted you in front of your building, and he longed to talk to you again. If he was watching you so often, of course you were going to see him too. One day, you spotted him. He tried to play it off by clearing his throat and looking away, but when he looked at you again, you smiled. You… smiled? Even after all the humiliation and suffering he put you through, you smiled at him. You seemed to wave off to your friends and began to speed walk to him. He panicked a little.

“It’s nice to see you again! I hope you’re doing well,” you greeted and waved to him. It hurt him to see that you were still kind and genuine even after all that he did to you. “Hi, um… it’s nice to see you too… How are you doing?” he awkwardly replied. Sukuna was always one to hold pride and confidence, but upon seeing you he seemed to lose all of it. “I’m really good! This semester is kind of kicking my ass but I’m still trying to stay positive, haha,” you beamed. He nodded once as a reply and a silence enveloped the both of you. He stared at you, and you really did look happy. He sighed and spoke up, “Y/N, I never really got the chance to say sorry. I know that I have done so much wrong to you, but please, can you forgive me? I feel like what I did to you is burning a hole through my heart, and I just can’t bear to think that I could do that to someone as pure as you,” Sukuna began to beg. It was odd to see a guy who never bent down to anyone, who put himself on a pedestal ranging miles higher than anyone else, beg. 

You thought for a second, taking in the unfamiliar sorrow gracing his strong features. You eventually spoke, “Sukuna, I loved you, did you know that?” His eyes slightly widened and he nodded slowly. You continued, “The whole time I was with you, I wasn’t sure if you loved me too. It hurts to be around you.” He nodded again, breaking eye contact to stare at his shoes. “I can’t quite forgive you for what you did to me, but I want you to know that if you find your happiness, then I will always be cheering you on for it. Don’t mess up next time.” Although your words held the heaviness of your feelings, you still smiled at him. Sukuna felt a throbbing in his chest. God, what did he do to you? What had he done? He desperately wanted to say, “my happiness is with you” but he felt that he didn’t have the right to. Sukuna felt tears in his eyes, all an unfamiliar feeling to him. He nodded once again to you, whispering a thank you. Not because you were offering your understanding, but because he wanted to thank you for being there for him, even when he couldn’t be there for you. Sukuna went off apologizing once again, clenching his fists to resist reaching out and hugging you. And, as if you read his mind, you quickly pulled him into your embrace. The two of you held each other, tearing brimming your eyes. The feeling of closure the two of you longed for was gained, and for a second all the resentment and pain was let go of, all that was left was love and understanding for each other. 

Sukuna watched you from afar sometimes. He had been hearing around that you were in a relationship… good for you. He hoped that whoever that weird tall white guy haired guy you were dating was, was treating you with all the love and respect that you deserve, all the love and respect that he couldn’t give you. And as he watched you laugh with some guy that wasn’t him, smiling ear to ear, he realized that happiness looked so good on you. To pay his repentance and to pay his final act of love to you, he gave a small somber smile at your radiating face for the last time, and turned around and walked away, now truly realizing the weight of his mistakes.

[gyubakeries]

𝗴𝗹𝗶𝗺𝗽𝘀𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘂𝘀 | k.mg [TEASER]

a/n: this fic has been in the works ever since mingyu dropped the cover, and im finally getting around to posting it! writing it was no easy task, and when the idea of the angst olympics collab came around, i felt like it was the perfect time. this fic is very precious to me, and i hope you like reading it too!

shout-out to ally ( @lovetaroandtaemin ) for making this pretty banner for the fic!! also thanking all my beta-readers (tagged in main fic) for helping me out <3

lastly, i wanna thank the angst olympics collab for motivating me to finish this fic. i hope you guys like this one <3

word count (for teaser): 361 contents (for teaser): mingyu x f!reader , post-break up , mentioned drinking , angst

FULL FIC IS OUT! read the full fic -- here!

check out the angst olympics collab -- here! and don't forget to support all the other writers too <3

summary: both you and mingyu know that your relationship ended a year ago. it was clear from the way you left and he never chased after you. then why do you still see glimpses of each other every time you’re trying to move on?

it's all wrong.

when mingyu wakes up, a white ceiling presses down on him, the scent of oranges suffocates him, and skin that is brushing against his isn't warm.

he feels uneasy, his skin prickling at all these foreign sensations.

it's all wrong.

he should have been looking up at tattered glow-in-the-dark stickers on a pale blue ceiling. he should have been in the embrace of sweet roses that always managed to make him feel at home. he should have been touching skin that keeps him warm through the coldest winter nights.

he should have done a lot of other things too.

he didn't.

—

"y/n, i know you're in there," comes your best friend's voice. he's teetering on the edge of exasperation, but you can only laugh to yourself.

it's a pathetic sound, and you can only think of when it used to be much happier.

"you better be decent," seungkwan warns, before he's punching in the code to your apartment and letting himself in. the stench of alcohol hits him first, and then his eyes land on you—slumped against the couch, hand clutching an empty bottle of alcohol, and a hazy look in your red-rimmed eyes.

"you promised you wouldn't do this to yourself anymore," seungkwan whispers, biting back all the nagging and scolding when he sees your blank, regretful smile.

"promises aren't a real concept anymore, kwan," you croak out, voice hoarse from all the crying. "they're never real."

you repeat the words like a mantra, sometimes in your head, and sometimes out loud. seungkwan bites his tongue to stop himself from crying in front of you as he helps you get off the floor, drink some water, and sleep in your bed.

"i'll stay the night," seungkwan tells you, already pulling out the air mattress he bought for himself ever since you started drinking to the brink of alcohol poisoning. "tell me if you need anything."

him, you think. i need him. kim mingyu. he's all i’ve ever needed.

seungkwan can read your mind, and he stays silent after that.

you fall asleep without saying anything, and old glow-in-the-dark stars and real laughter haunt your dreams again.

fill this form to be added to the taglist <3

head to the masterlist for more!

[warlocksoup]

LOOPED: MIYA ATSUMU

she's stuck in a loop: texting him late on a friday night, letting him into her bed, clinging to him, silently begging for him to stay, only for him to leave again.

masterlist

tags/warnings: friends with benefits, implied love triangle, angst, hooking up, unhappy ending, kinda softcore smut but no actual smut, hardly proofread, mdni

word count: 2.2k

an: thinking abt starting a gen taglist for works like this since im planning on pivoting away from writing a bunch of series and focusing more on things like this. idk. let me know what you think if you want i can't make you. also do i think this is my best writing? no but writing has been so hard lately im proud of myself for getting this out

Atsumu likes to hold her after they fuck. 

His bare leg is hooked over her hip, and his arm is thrown over her shoulder, pulling her into his chest. It’s hot under her sheets, and Astumu’s skin is coated in a thin layer of sweat. It’s humid and unbearable, but she bears it, holding onto him by his waist, because it’s the only time he’s like this with her. 

“Thank you,” he says, and he tucks her head under his chin. His eyes are closed, and he lets out a long, deep breath. “I needed that.” 

He thanks her like she did him a favor. Her arms go a bit tighter around his waist, and she presses her ear against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “Yeah,” she mumbles, her cheek pressed flat against his skin. “Anytime.” 

Atsumu runs a hand over the back of her head, smoothing down her hair. His fingers continue, dragging slowly down the center of her spine. “Do you mind if I stay for a little while?” he asks, voice dropping to a raspy whisper that makes her feel so desperate that shame boils just under his touch. 

Her eyes close. “No,” she says, her lips brushing against his bare chest as she speaks. “You can stay for as long as you want.” 

It’s like this every week. She always expects it to be different, and it never is. Every week, when it feels like it’s been dark for too long and she’s alone and can’t sleep, she texts him after she promised herself she wouldn’t. Sometimes he responds and says he’ll be right over, sometimes he replies and says he can’t. Sometimes he shows up without saying anything at all. 

It’s been like this for a while. Long enough for her to feel embarrassed that she’s letting him drag her along like this. 

He hums, and she can feel vibrations throughout his chest. “You’re so soft,” he tells her, “it makes it hard to leave.” 

Atsumu will leave, though. Before the morning comes, he’ll be out the door without saying a word to her. It doesn’t seem very difficult, when he does go. He always peels her off of him like she’s some piece of dirty laundry and slinks out of the room when he thinks she’s fallen asleep. 

His breathing steadies like he’s slipping into sleep. She tilts her chin forward, and places a soft kiss on the center of his chest. She won’t be able to sleep. She’s too wired, it’s too hot, and her neck lays uncomfortably on top of the pillow. When the morning comes she’s going to be sore and tired, and it will be a strain to get anything done. 

Her eyes close, and she’s sure that Atsumu’s knocked out when she whispers, “You don’t have to leave, y’know.” 

He doesn’t say anything. She wasn’t expecting him to. She keeps her eyes closed, and thinks of his warmth, trying her best to avoid thoughts of it disappearing when the morning comes. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Atsumu stands at the edge of her bed and pulls on a pair of sweatpants. “I’m sorry to leave so soon,” he tells her, thumbs tucked under the waistband as they settle at the bottom of his hips. “I have to be at the gym so goddamn early tomorrow.” 

Her legs are crossed underneath the blanket and she sits upright, holding the pillow he usually sleeps on against her lap. “”S okay,” she tells him, watching as he grabs his hoodie off of the floor and throws it on over his head. “I’m not offended or anything.” 

“Honestly, I probably shouldn’t have come over tonight,” he confesses, and now she’s starting to feel a bit of a sting. “I just really needed to see you tonight.” 

She doesn’t know how to feel about this. She shuffles a bit, an indiscernible feeling settling uncomfortably over her skin. Atsumu doesn’t say things like that. She doesn’t know how to react. “Is something wrong?” 

Atsumu freezes, placing his hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt. His expression is screwed up, knotted. Something is wrong. She leans forward, like she’s expecting him to whisper it in her ear, like he’s about to profess something profound and close to his chest. But Atsumu just shakes his head, “Nah, it’s nothing,” he says. He pats the pockets of his sweatpants. “Have you seen my phone?” 

She’s disappointed, but she doesn’t know why. She leans back and reaches towards her nightstand, yanking her phone off the charger and dialing Atsumu’s number. She knows it by heart, and hopes that he doesn’t notice. It buzzes from under her sheets. 

He leaves half past midnight, forty minutes after he got there. She can’t sleep once he’s gone. She stays up, scrolling mindlessly through her phone, trying to wear down her mind, make it too tired to keep thinking of him. 

Sakusa texts her. Five minutes past one. “Was Atsumu at your place?” 

She ignores it. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Atsumu lies on his side, and draws patterns on her bare stomach with the tip of his finger. She doesn’t say anything, out of fear of making him stop. She watches him instead, watching his face as he stares down at her midriff. He has this slight smile on his face, and it makes her feel pleasantly uneasy.

“I like your stomach,” he tells her. “I think it’s my favorite part of you.” 

The smile that grows on her face must give her away. She’s grateful for how occupied he is with her skin. “You have a favorite part of me?” 

“Yeah, I mean, I like all of you,” Atsumu tells her. “But I do have favorites. Your stomach, your nose, your thighs, fuck, just so much of you,” he sighs, as if overwhelmed. “I mean, a man can only take so much.” 

She doesn’t think it’s fair, that she’s expected not to fall in love with him when he says things like that. So unabashedly, completely unprompted. And there is this small part of her that kind of resents him, for things like this, saying all of that when he’s going to leave her before the morning comes. But she likes it more than she could ever hate it. So she smiles, and she says, “I don’t think I could pick my favorite part of you,” and means it more than she should. 

Atsumu’s hand stops, and he looks up at her. He grins, and it makes her stomach flip. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

It’s fifteen minutes to midnight, and she’s pacing in her bedroom, trying not to look at her phone. She texted him twenty minutes ago, and she thinks if she keeps herself from looking at her phone, it’ll make him respond quicker. She can’t back her logic, but she’s well past the point of reason. 

He hadn’t talked to her all week. Which, she tries to tell herself, isn’t too weird. He’s busy. He’s a professional athlete. He has better things to do than entertain her and her whims, and what is she to him, really, besides a person to sleep with? They weren’t that close when they started hooking up, and it’s not like the fucking as brought them closer together. 

But still, her stomach knots up with nerves. She feels like something’s wrong. Maybe she gave him too much of herself. Maybe he doesn’t want as much of her as she’s willing to give. 

Her phone vibrates against her nightstand, and she nearly breaks a toe rushing to answer it. On her home screen is a notification from him. 

Can’t make it tonight. Sorry. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

She always tries to give Atsumu what he wants. He likes it when she begs, so she begs. She gets down on her knees and begs to please him. He likes the feeling of her on top of him, thighs squeezing on either side of his hips, so she climbs on top of him, not stopping when her thighs start to burn. He likes it wet, so it’s wet. His hair tugged, his neck nibbled on, his back scratched. Whatever he likes, she gives it to him. 

And he keeps making these small little grunts of pleasure and his eyes are fluttering, but Atsumu feels far away. Unimpressed with the way her body moves against his. His hands lay lazily on her hips, not gripping tightly on her flesh. He doesn’t whisper praise in her ear. He doesn’t bite down on his lip and tell her yes, he likes it like that, keep doing that. He’s quiet, withdrawn. 

She keeps trying to give him more, and more, desperation clawing on the inside of her chest. But Atsumu gives her nothing. He takes what she offers silently, and it starts to feel like he’s keeping his eyes closed to avoid looking at her. 

After, he doesn’t hold her. Atsumu lies on his back with his hands tucked under his head, staring at her ceiling. He doesn’t say anything. 

Her body feels like it’s burning. She feels humiliated. The silence is bad but she thinks talking might be worse. She doesn’t want him to leave but she doesn’t want him to stay if it’s going to be more of this. The air is so thick she thinks she might choke on it. 

Atsumu turns his head to look at her. “Have you talked to Omi recently?” 

The question shocks her so badly she turns her head to him, face scrunched up in confusion. “What?” 

He shrugs. “He hasn’t been talking to me lately. I was just wondering if he said anything to you.” 

Her head straightens out and she looks back up at the ceiling. “He texted me the other week and asked if you were here. I didn’t know if I should tell him or not, and it didn’t really seem like any of his business, so I just didn’t respond.” 

Atsumu hums. “I think he’s jealous of you.” 

“Do you want him to be?” she asks at once, and then regrets it. 

Atsumu doesn’t say anything to this. He gets quiet, and she has to bite down on her lip to keep herself from saying something else stupid. Somehow, the air gets heavier. 

“I’m sorry,” she says after a minute of silence. 

“It’s okay,” Atsumu says, and he doesn’t mean it. He leaves a minute later, and tells her it’s because he has an early practice, but she’s not stupid. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Atsumu presses her against her bedroom wall, and when she closes her eyes, all she can see is him and Sakusa, arm’s slung around each other’s shoulders in a post-victory celebration earlier that day. And the way Atsumu looked at him makes her feel rotten. It hurts to remember, and Atsumu pounding into her does little to distract from it. 

She’s the loser in this war, she thinks, arms around his shoulders and leg hooked over his hip, too disconnected from her body to feel anything. It doesn’t matter how many times Atsumu has crawled back into her bed and held her against his chest. It doesn’t matter how in love with him she is. It’s always Sakusa. It’ll always be Sakusa. 

He holds her tightly after, their legs tangled together and his cheek resting on the top of her head. His phone’s in his pocket and it keeps buzzing. Atumu ignores it, and she can’t stop herself from thinking that it’s him.

She swallows. Her throat feels dry. “Someone keeps texting you,” she says, because she wants him to acknowledge it. 

Atsumu inhales deeply. “Ignore it,” he says, “just lie with me.” 

She closes her eyes, and does as she’s told. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Can I come over tonight? 

He texted her first. He doesn’t usually, but he did. The notification popped up over a video the MSBY Black Jackals post-match. Meian’s giving a courtside interview, but just behind him, she can see Atsumu and Sakusa, shoulders squared and tensed, keeping a strict distance from each other as they exit the court. She can feel the chill through the screen of her phone. 

She doesn’t know what it is that holds the both of them back from each other. Maybe it’s her. Maybe Sakusa doesn’t realize that Atsumu would drop her immediately if Sakusa ever asked him to. 

She’s always known that he would, though. Whatever she has to offer doesn’t seem to compare to Sakusa. She’s just a temporary fix, really. Just something to hold Atsumu over until Sakusa realizes this. 

She taps on the notification, and her conversation with Atsumu pops up. For a second, she scrolls through it. Minimal talking, mostly texts from her, with late responses from him. She can see it there, how much Atsumu doesn’t care about her. It doesn’t matter if he asks to come over or tells her he loves her stomach or how hard it is for him to leave. He just doesn’t care about her. Not the way she cares about him. 

Her thumbs hover over the keyboard for a moment, paused in contemplation, before she types out a quick, yeah, sure, and hits send without thinking anymore about it.

If Sakusa hasn’t figured it out yet, then she’s not about to help him. She’ll just keep giving and giving, until there’s nothing left to give.

[princessmaeee]

All for Us Part VI _ Final Part Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V

Hello Sweeties ! So as I saw in the votes, you asked for this L A S T par of this story, so there it is ! It's not that long cause I didn't had much to say. I just wanted to do a beautiful and simple end cause I think both deserve it. It wasn't a long Story, but it was long compare to everything I wrote in the last years and I'm proud of myself ! I realised later than the title is kinda bad cause I just made a bad translation from the french but the good title should be '' Everything for Us '' but I will let it like it is cause, Why not. My first Fanfiction in years, my first fanfiction I finishied since my highschool years ( 11 years at least ) and my first published Smut in Years too. Overall I'm proud of myself and I wish I will do more other stories and I hope to be able to finish them all. Thanks to everyone who followed and Love this story. I hope to see you again for other ones !

Tags : @private-vampire - @rafesbunniebby - @ultracoolnobody @chxrrybomb22

You didn't remember what happened after you voted to go home. It was the majority of you. You remembered Thanos voting X too, but after the light off, everything was fuggy. When you opened your eyes, you were on the dirty ground where you were picked when you joined the game. You had a blindfold, well you guessed it was it, who had felt it on your neck. Your feets and wrists were tied up and you could feel the cold breeze of the night. Those bastards let you in underwear in the middle of a street. Luckily for you, You noticed your clothes close to you and after a moment, trying to untie your wrist, you quickly do the same for your legs before putting on your clothes. 

Your phone was in the pocket of your sweater and of course, it ran out of energy. Your apartment keys were still in your jean’s pocket. 

You felt tired and durty. A good bath and 24h hours of sleep is going to be well deserved, but first, you need to check on something.

You go to the nearest convenient store and put your card in the ATM to take a look at your account. Your heart was racing in your chest. What if it was just a dream ? What if they lied ? 

Even if you didn't felt right to be happy, you couldn't stop smiling when you noticed the big amount of money you had in your account. Tears of joy appeared in your eyes, slowly cascading on your cheeks. Finally, The suffering and anxiety will be over. A hand on your stomach, you smiled at it.

«-I promise, You gonna have a beautiful Life…»

Once you got home, as you expected, the door locks were smashed. The guys who were chasing you for money probably entered the apartment while you weren't there.

Stressed, you opened the door and you felt sad to notice how everything was destroyed. This didn't look nice anymore, but you still have to stay there, at least until you could join Thanos or even that guy who messed up your apartment to give him the money. 

Plugging your phone to the charger, you start to clean around as much as you can. 

After a moment, when your house was clean enough for the energy you had, you go back to your phone and noticed a lot of unread messages from the guy who landed you money. Unsure, you text him back a simple ; I have your money. Let meet up Tomorrow.

You also get a Message, well, many, from Thanos. He seemed anxious about you and the baby.

“-Had you made it home yet ? “ -23h07 “-You can come to my place if you want “ 23h12 “-Or I can come over “ -23h13 “-Princess Are you all right ?” -23h20 “-I Got the money from the game. I can send you some if you want. “ -23h22 “-I know your debts are all my fault anyway…”-23h22 “-Seniorita Please answer me. Are you alright ? Is the baby’s fine ??!! ”-23h25 “-If I don't get an answer I'm going to show up at your place ! “-23h33 “-Okey I'm coming !! ” -23h45

You looked at the time : 23h55.  You smiled and answered him 

“-I'm fine, my phone Ran out of power. No need to come over. Go at your place and rest “ - 23h56 “-I want to rest with You. Gonna bring snack. What do you want ? Ice Cream and Pinault butter ?”-23h58 “-Im Fine!! And of course Not, I don't have  any weird pregnancy cravings. “-00h00 “-Not Yet ;) Anyway, still on my way…with snacks”-00h08

Your smile never left your face. Thanos was always really caring with you but somehow you feel like it was different this time, like he really made an effort and it made you happy.

When he arrived, he opened the door as you were still cleaning up the apartment. He looked around, visibly confused by all the mess around.

«-What happened here ? »

You explained to him the problems you got cause of your debts who’s also his or cause of him. Thanos felt bad you had to go traught all this cause of his addiction and helped you to clean as much as possible. Once everything was less messy, you both enjoyed some Snacks he bring and that’s when you realised how hungry you were. He bought you some of your favorite Ramen, chips and little cake. 

He also gave you an envelope with money. It was the exact amount you need to give to the guy you will meet tomorrow. He apologized and insisted you keep it. You felt touched by this and accepted his money.

«-I really want you to keep the money you get from the game for our child. And for Yourself, of course.  -What about your own debts ? -I will figure it out. And I still have some left so don’t worry about me. I want to go back to music and earn money of my own. I want to make you and our child proud. And for something else… -Something else ? Like what ? A home ? It's pretty expensive. -Well, not for a home, but it could be a plan for later. The other thing dépend more on your decision. -which is ? »

You both were sitting on your bed and Thanos got up  to kneel in front of you, gently taking your hand in his. You looked at him, breathtaking. Your heart stops beating for a second before it starts to beat faster. You could feel your eyes feeling with water.

«- Y/N would you accept to be my wife ? »

You were too shocked to answer. Tears flowing from your eyes as you just quickly nod  your head. It wasn't the romantic scene you always dream of, but coming from Su Bong it was the most romantic thing he ever did. Even if you were both exhausted, still in debts and even if you didn’t have a Ring for you, yet, this moment felt the happiest of your life. You throw yourself in his arms, still crying as you repeat ‘’ Yes ! ‘’ Again and again. Su Bong smiled and held you close, gently caressing your hair.

«-My dear and Beautifull Wife, He said before kissing you. »

This relationship with him was a total rollercoaster of emotion, but your love for each other was just too strong to let you away from each other. Faith does good things, sometimes.

The next day goes well, you got rid of your debts, Thanos started to go to therapy to avoid touching drugs again, so did you.

You moved In together, he worked on new music, new songs, starting to slowly go back on stage while you went back to school. You dropped one year ago but you chose an option you really like. It wasn’t easy with the pregnancy and Had to do a lot of school classes and take more time.

Life with your Now, fiancé wasn’t alway easy. When he felt the side effect of always being sober you fighted a lot, but at the end He apologies and you were understanding considering all the efforts he did for you, the baby and your relationship. Sometime, you fucked to avoid fighting or when Su bon needed a big high. He said you were his new addiction and even dedicated you to a song where He talks about how much He loves you and how you changed his life.

Eventually, you gave birth to a beautiful Daughter. Su bon said once he really would like to have a boy, but when He hold his little baby daughter in his arms for the first time, he almost cried and didn't let go of her. He quickly became over protective with her. He also wrote a song about her and it became a great hit. That’s how He were able to afford your engagement ring.

Your life goes back on track and you feel happy despite what you had been taught with the game. You and Su Bong got a matching tattoo with the number you were during the game as a sort of memorial for the ones who died in there but also as a reminder to yourself to be careful with your money and every decision you will take, cause you never want to live an experience like that ever again.

[melodyanqel]

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐏 ── ✦ h.ih. (two - more to live)

a pretty little thing, who grew up extremely sheltered and has never seen the horrors in life until she gets recuited in a mysterious competition.

⤷ pairing: hwang in-ho x fem!oc

⤷ genre/tags: fluff, angst, thriller, psychological drama, established relationship, games, action, financial issues, gambling, betrayal, team bonding, family, possessive!sadistic!in-ho, sheltered!sunshine!oc

⤷ warning: mention of health issues

⤷ wc: 1.3k words

⤷ note: it's our front man's birthday! hbd to this dangerously beautiful character! <3

⤷ melodyanqel taglist: @buckitostan @nadloves @gracesworks @verouys @foulbreadpaenut @avery-043009

Upon the eve of evening, when there is still the strength of day yet the softness of night, the city comes alive with music and light. 

Yu-na and her boss are cleaning up the café because it’s getting late. Her favorite time is when she clocks out from work and relaxes in her cozy home. She also likes to turn off the OPEN sign because another day has ended. 

Throughout her shift, Yu-na missed her uncle. Despite the conflicts between her aunt and Gi-hun, she never hated him. Yu-na knew about his poor gambling habits, lived with his mother after his divorce, and got too stubborn to admit his mistakes. But in the end, Gi-hun does have a heart. Yu-na can tell through his emotions when mentioning Ga-young that he genuinely didn’t want her to leave him. It’s pitiful. However, he still thinks of his daughter every day. 

“Thank you, Yu-na for today.”

Giving her boss a jubilant smile. “My pleasure, Mrs. Lee. Have a lovely night.” She leaves the place and notices the once-blue sky is now ink-black with splatters of stars and the crescent moon. Of course, the city is always loud and cheery at night. Yu-na starts to head home and luckily it’s not a long walk because there’s a neighborhood close to the café. Most people around the area know Yu-na because they have been homeowners since she was a child and a few are great friends with her parents. 

Yu-na kindly greets the people when entering the neighborhood. She also notices a little girl dressed in a light green dress and a flower beanie over her head, holding her father’s hand coming towards her direction. 

The child beams when she sees Yu-na. “Unnie!” She shouts the older’s name and sprints her small legs. 

“Na-yeon!” Yu-na bends down with her arms open—the little girl hops into the embrace. “Did you have fun in school?” She asked because Na-yeon started her education this year. They pulled away to face each other and the child responded, “Yes, I did! I learned how to draw because appa knows how to draw and my friends liked my hat.” She spoke enthusiastically, which made Yu-na smile widely. It’s nice to know Na-yeon is living her life to its fullest. 

Then footsteps come closer to them. Gyeong-seok or Na-yeon’s father approaches. He tells Yu-na, “The teacher also enjoys having her as a student. She brings an extra joy for the class.” He quotes the amazing feedback about his daughter. 

It honestly made Gyeong-seok proud of himself because he raised Na-yeon as a single father and the struggles and concerns about her chronic illness caused him to be overprotective. But then he reflects on his mindset to at least have Na-yeon enjoy life, even when she is fighting to stay strong. Gyeong-seok truly loves and treasures his angel and prays that luck will come true. 

Yu-na stands up and says, “I agree with the teacher. She is like the brightest sun in our universe.” The young woman looks at Na-yeon with adoration in her eyes. She takes a hand to pat her head. “I like your hat too. But you are prettier than the flower.” The comment was cheesy yet sweet because it made Na-yeon smile. 

Gyeong-seok also planned on taking Na-yeon to his work for the weekend and it's the amusement park. Yu-na is glad he is taking his kid to a magical place for the first time. Na-yeon had always wanted to go there because she loves fairytales, cartoon characters, and candy. She is like any other kid. Yu-na hopes Na-yeon will have fun and Gyeong-seok illustrates guests.

Afterward, the father and daughter bid Yu-na ‘goodbye’ and went home. 

✮⋆˙

In the Myung household, a family of three is at the dining table to feast on meals and talk about their day. 

They’re the same old topics: work, plans, and how they’ve been doing. For Yu-na, she brings something new to the table. “I met Uncle Gi-hun today.” She told her parents and they looked at her quite astonished. Her mother’s face lights up. “Really? Where has he been all this time?” Yu-bin becomes intrigued. 

Yu-na expounds, “He has been working overseas and has found a better living. His uncle said he stopped gambling because he was trying to improve his ways, which was shocking, but it’s understanding of him not to live on bad habits.” Her response is brief yet her parents comprehend.

Her father, Ji-won, tells her his thoughts. “It’s nice to know he is no longer in a negative life. Even though I’ve never shown any hate towards him, it was disappointing to see his behavior affecting others. That nasty divorce with his ex-wife caused so much trouble to the family that we weren’t so sure to continue being one. Sorry that I had to bring up your sister, my dear.” He sincerely apologizes to the love of his life. 

She shakes her head. “No, I’m with you on your opinion. As much as I never hated my sister and Gi-hun, their broken marriage had all of us worried. But in the end, I guess people do change.” Yu-bin does believe in second chances if the person is willing to make things right. 

Yu-na sighs, “I wonder if we’ll come together again.” She began to feel the nostalgia when times were different and the whole hatred didn’t come into their lives. Yu-bin reassures her child. “Someday. Keep on hoping for it and it’ll happen.” The mother also wants things they used to be. She misses her sister a lot more than she expected. The two women have a deep bond, even when they are countries apart.

Furthermore, the Myung family continued their dinner until it was time to sleep. 

Yu-na washes her greasy face because she ate delicious BBQ, soup, and dumplings. However, the calories were worth it. After having soft, clean skin, she jumps on her bed like a rabbit. The blissful feeling of cotton sheets and a blanket soothes her aching muscles. To end the night, she texts her friend she met in college. 

Park Chae-young is her name. Yu-na once thought she could seriously be a model for a fashion magazine—from face to body to attitude like so much perfection. Chae-young is also a hard-working student and dreams of becoming a registered nurse. It also makes it appropriate that her fiancé is a police officer because they are helping people in the community by providing medical care and maintaining safety, often in high-stress situations.

The quiet bedroom echoes her giggles here and there from the silly yet cute messages sent by her friend. Yu-na feels sleep taking over her body. She delivers one more reply before entering dreamland. 

✮⋆˙

It’s not a work day but a school day.

Yu-na carried her supplies in a pink and white backpack, wore a Cogimyun crewneck, flared jeans, and sneakers, and ate a quick breakfast—a toast with jelly. 

She leaves her home to meet Chae-young at the subway station. Whenever she goes to school, Yu-na appreciates how peaceful the morning is. It’s close to autumn so the weather is getting cooler and less humid. While leaving the neighborhood, a few people said “Good morning.” Yu-na says it back with her usual merry smile. It’s always amazing how a short yet meaningful greeting can uplift someone a little more. 

As she makes her way to her destination, Yu-na abruptly gets stopped by a person on the streets. It turns out to be a grown man who is fairly tall, with dark brown hair layered flat over his forehead and dressed in all gray and black. His facial features are sharp, thin lips, and has kind brown eyes. 

“Excuse me, miss. Do you know a café nearby?” He asked in a deep, charming voice. Yu-na politely answers. “Yes, I do. If you go down another block there will be one.” She points ahead of the street on her left, directing him to her workplace because that’s the closest. 

The man etches an elated expression. “Thank you so much, miss. Have a good day.” He bows to her. 

“You’re welcome and you too.” Yu-na does the same thing and watches him descend elsewhere before continuing her walk. 

series masterlist | three

[avifaunaa]

i tasted ash and knew [ it was you ] [ r.v. ] [ pt.2. ]

Authors Note: Okay -- wow. The feedback was unexpectedly amazing! Thank you guys so very much for the reblogs, tags, likes, and comments. I do not know how many parts I have set for this -- it could end after P.3 or it could go on longer depending on how I go about it. I hope you enjoy this! As usual, please check the content warnings and keep yourselves safe.

More Trivia:

Women could be pharmacists in the fifties! However it was a newer job field. Other new job opportunities for women at the time included: engineering and real-estate.

TV dinners were the first of their kind created and released into the world in 1953 as a quick meal that could be heated up in an oven and reduced the dishes one had to do, and fit onto a "TV tray". Added free fact: The first actual type of dinner of this kind was a Thanksgiving style meal and it was a success!

Milk was ordered through, humorously, a "Milkman" that would come door to door like the newspaper and deliver fresh bottles of milk usually daily and, depending on the company / location, took the empty ones.

Phone lines did use to connect the way they did through an operator and had multiple people trying to connect sometimes. What a tedious job!

Reader grumbling about religious scripture being sent to her home is a reference to Jim Jones — who would start the People’s Temple one year later [ 1955 ] and end up committing one of the most notorious religious massacres in history while murdering a United States official. It was a terrible tragedy and it opened a gateway to other cults who preyed on people just like Jim Jones did.

PART ONE | PART TWO [ you are here ] | PART THREE

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Rio Vidal x Fem!Reader

Summary: Death has caught up with you but she has not come to retrieve your soul as the natural balance demands and has for the near seventy years you've evaded your fate. Rio appears to be seeking some form of stability and control through you, but you are going to make it decidedly very difficult.

Content Warnings: Dark -- use caution and keep yourselves safe, flashbacks that contain period-typical views on gender norms and sexuality, discussions of death and past abuse, Rio making R her housewife, kidnapping, misuse of magic [ Rio ], manipulation, obsessive behavior, really stupid murder attempts [ reader giving lmao ], Stockholm Syndrome beginning to take a tiny bit of effect, READER CRASHING OUT, non-con, face sitting, fingering, ruined orgasms [ all Rio!receiving ], magic strap [ r!receiving ], breeding and possible impregnation [ r!receiving ]

Word Count: TBA

2024

Rio was doing it again.

You did not have proof of it but you could just tell she was.

The stuffed duck at the foot of your bed was taunting you and you wanted to strangle the hell out of it if you weren't on strike right now, willing the fake witch to take her physical form and become visible to you.

After having been chained to her for a period of time you had come to know when she was close. It was the one part of the magic she worked that you had never revealed to her and she hadn't assumed to ask if you could sense her presence like she could yours depending on proximity.

The beady, blank eyes of your companion was the only way you knew she remembered your interests -- or ones you had at one point.

It was an old, much loved thing. Won at a fair back when you had first come to grow closer with her after the death of your husband. She insisted on getting you out of the house and event was only for a week and she bribed you with the promise of a Ferris wheel ride that you'd always dreamed of riding.

It was one of the items she had waiting for you upon setting you up in this bedroom and told you to. "stay put" while she went and did her Deathly duties which you assumed included brooding and prowling ally ways when she was bored.

The bedroom was designed to your tastes and it made your tongue curl into your throat. She had been watching you long enough to get to know you all over again -- how the years had reshaped you so she could adjust to them accordingly.

She had even taken the new cookbooks you'd purchased from your coffee table, price sticker partially picked and all, and placed them in a very noticable way on the stuffed bookshelf in the corner.

Your door creaked open. Your head moved from the stare-down with the duck to the direction but found only Rio's idea for a gift sitting in the doorway with sharp eyes.

She got you a fucking cat.

A large, fluffy thing with a long feathery tail and tufted ears. Dark brown with sharper stripes than most knives you used to cut your ingredients and so standoffish you wonder if she found him in a dumpster somewhere and took him screeching, spitting, and hissing.

Well, tough luck dude. She did that to you too.

She had deposited him onto your lap not even fifteen minutes after fucking you into a stupor and you threatening to kill her with a smug smile. "His name is Billy. I figured you'd need something to take care of while I'm out working."

Billy had hissed, affronted, at Rio and scrambled off of your lap to somehow squeeze under the sofa across from the one she had lead you upstairs to recover on.

"You got a cat," you said, eyes focusing briefly on the spot where the tabby had disappeared before returning to Rio's features.

"We got a cat," she corrected, flopping down onto the couch next to you. "I can't have you getting bored and destructive when I'm gone at work, can I?"

Rage coiled inside of you tighter than a bedspring. "I wouldn't be bored," you started with an attempt to keep your tone steady, "if you hadn't trapped me in a cage."

"Hardly a cage, angel," Rio rebutted, legs stretching and feet crossing across one another on the coffee table. "I gave you the entire house and backyard to work with -- pool and yard included. That's three floors and a basement. An upgrade since the last time we did this, no?"

Her eyes stared holes into the side of your head and you refused to meet her gaze. You knew what you'd find, anyway. You'd find that prodding and incessant glint that she always had when she spoke to you in that fucking tone.

Your rage could only be filtered into one thing at a time and you decided that fighting a battle you couldn't win right now would only succeed in humiliating you further. So you decided to focus your melting attitude onto something you could absolutely control.

"Get your feet," you replied, teeth gritting, "off the fucking table."

That grin became feral in the corner of your eyes but she did as you bid and uncrossed her feet and spread her legs lazily across the floor instead. "Yes, ma'am."

"We do not have things to care for a cat."

She tilted her head at you. "Don't we?"

You blinked and opened your mouth to argue with her, but in an instant you were quickly set quiet. A large cat tree with multiple tiers sat in the floor to ceiling windows of the entry way not far off, cat toys and beds seemed to appear in the house later, too.

Not to mention the random cat food you found in the cabinet when you went to fix something later that night to get away from her.

But now Rio had bid you adieu with a peck to your cheek and a shit-eating grin.

You nearly smacked her and had your fingers flexing as if debating the outcome and if the repercussions would be worth it. Rio laughed and puffed away in an air of smoke before you could so much as lift your hand.

You and Billy now had an alliance of sorts. He had allowed you to put a collar with a cute bowtie and a bell on it so you could hear him prattling about -- only after you fed him a numerous amount of treats.

He also despised Rio and swatted at her if she came near if he was cuddled up to you. It was fun watching Rio ride out the consequences to her actions and she often threatened to make a new hood from his coat or use his teeth in a potion, or went the most mature route and hissed back at him.

But still -- you appreciated his company even if he often times only graced you with it fifty percent of the time.

"What do you want?" you finally asked the feline, who had taken your silence as an invitation to skulk into the room and rub himself across the furniture.

Letting him do whatever it is cats do, you return your attention to the duck and curl your fingers into the bedspread beneath you as the memories start to take over.

1954

Rio had been your rock for the last six months in which she took you in. For the first two you were in a numbed state of shock that barely had you moving about out of bed if Rio hadn't encouraged it.

Perhaps she was right in how she had confronted you so boldly that night you appeared on her doorstep. There was no grief in your heart for your husband as you planned his funeral with the help of your mother and father, sister in tow.

No grief for what "could have been" should he have not been in the accident that took his life when you bleakly watched from a distance as funeral goers left and four men began to lower the cheap casket into the grave.

There was not a drop of regret in you as you approached and dropped a green rose from Rio's gardens into the grave instead of dirt as your past and marriage was buried all in one.

You sold the house like Rio suggested. It was empty without his complaining and too clean when there was no bloody noses to clean up. No beer to restock or work clothes for the next day to be pressed and set out early for him.

Instead you handled well-kept skirts and fine women's wear without being asked.

Rio had found you one day after returning home from her work -- a pharmacy technician, according to her.

"I handle medications that doctors prescribe for people," she told you when asked. "Make sure they get the right dose and that the paperwork is handled. Call doctor's offices if needed and consult with the patient."

You had given her a look that she had memorized for the rest of her life. One of shock, awe, and absolute wonder. "You're able to do that? Isn't that a man's job?"

Rio smiled at you, leaning into the doorway. "This world is starting to become less theirs and more ours, angel. Society cannot run on the basis of the male gender alone and many areas of the workforce are recognizing that."

You had accepted her answer as truth.

She had three white medical jackets in which her name was stitched onto them provided by the drug store in town for her that you made sure to wash by themselves and iron before she went to work each morning.

She would often watch you do laundry -- hers or yours, after you moved in -- even if you were simply ironing in front of the television in the living room while she sipped on a bear in her suspenders and untucked white button-up, eyes focused on you rather than what the current state of the country was.

You had also changed the state of her eating habits in the time you'd been there, as well. You were horrified with what you found in her refrigerator and pantry.

Which was nothing pretty much.

The first night you had stayed over at her home you had also tried to cook. Mostly to have an excuse not to return to that dark, empty house just some stretches away, but also to thank Rio for creating a plan to ensure your comfort would remain.

Only to find she had little in terms of food. She had five TV Dinners stacked haphazardly and you cringed backward. Those were perhaps only good for Saturdays when one could sit in front of the television and enjoy their shows. The thought of Rio eating one every night left you nauseous.

You spotted an empty milk glass and snatched it out to set on the porch to be grabbed and replaced in the morning with fresh milk.

You stomped to the phone dangling on the wall and waited to be connected to the operator on the other line.

"Hello, number please?" the bored drawl asked.

You gave the older woman the number Rio provided and the answering clearing of a throat filled your ears. You heard a few flicks. "Thank you, please wait while we connect you."

"Sure." You held the phone to your ear and waited until the ringing started again.

"Westview Pharmacy."

"Rio," you greeted, wrapping a finger around the curly cord. Your heart paced in your chest at the sound of her voice.

"Hello, angel," she responded back, sounding pleasantly surprised. "What can I do for you on this fine day?"

"You have a sad excuse for a kitchen," you told her plainly, "and had you not taken the car I surely would have myself to go to the supermarket."

"I left some food for you to heat up, angel," she told you, confusion filtering through the line.

You huffed. "That is not -- I wish to cook, Rio. I may be a terrible baker but I am quite good at cooking otherwise and your lackluster pantry is ensuring I cannot do so."

There was a brief silence on the other end and for a moment you worried you'd overstepped, but then Rio let out a breathy chuckle. "Okay, okay. I apologize for any offense my kitchen and I caused."

You flushed. "I should hope so," you grumbled back, "I simply cannot understand how you lived this long. Did you not cook for your husband ever?"

"We weren't homebodies before he was drafted, no," Rio told you. You heard a rattle and assumed she was filling a prescription as she spoke with you. "He had a heart for eating out in diners and picnicking at the park. Every day was a new surprise."

"I see." You bit your lip and tapped the tiled floor with your flats. You regret bringing it up at all. "Well -- I only called to ask if you could run by the store on your way home and grab some essentials. Just enough for me to cook with until I can take the car."

"Of course I can," the brunette agreed instantly without thought. "And on that topic just start making a list of things you think we need so that way the next time we do go out we can grab it."

"I can do that."

"Good girl," the woman said. "Now, thank you for calling and asking me for something you needed. I do have to get back to work though. I will see you tonight?"

"Of course," you agreed, heart fluttering in your chest at the image of her walking into the doorway with that soft grin, "Sorry for keeping you."

"Never apologize, angel." With that, the line disconnected and left a low buzzing tone to tell you the line was dead. You hung up the phone and smiled wistfully to yourself.

It had been the first of many nights wherein you cooked for her and did her laundry and cleaned her house. She never missed a minute of telling you that she was grateful, or pointing out how well the dynamic seemed to be working out damn the gossip you feared would crop up.

Things changed drastically six months in as autumn began taking over Westview in a chokehold with no release.

The leaves were a falling and leaving the ground covered in the dark orange and yellow hues that you loved so and a chill began to sweep and take over the summer heat.

You eyed the calendar up on the wall in the kitchen and noted that Rio seemed to be gone more often in October, November, and December.

You had wanted to ask why but your engrained sense of minding your business and leaving it be kept your tongue stabled to the roof of your mouth for the most part.

"You're burning holes into the wall, sweetheart," Rio called from the kitchen table. She was sitting neatly in the chair reading the morning paper, coffee in front of her as she waited patiently for breakfast.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, returning to the stove and slipping the skillet before the bacon could blacken the bacon completely. The two strips fell onto the plate next to the eggs and you carefully set the skillet back down.

Your plate was empty on the counter next to the stove. Rio had few rules but one of them was that you made yourself a meal first unless you had time to share one together, and then make hers while you ate.

It was odd and very unusual for what was normally expected from most "housewives" in this case, but she was insistent and you were hardly one to deny Rio after she's taken you in and practically cared for you in place of you having to work.

You didn’t protest to her few rules — you obeyed them willingly and dutifully. In turn she ensured you had her company and you were comfortable.

Rio was at work one afternoon before a fair you had agreed to attend together and your mother had come to take you to lunch at a hot new diner.

She was updating you on your sister and her children, and the new car the family had obtained. Though eventually she asked when you’d find yourself a way out of Rio’s home— an opportunity to do something new and get out of the town where it all occurred.

You had simply looked at her questioningly, and asked, “Why would I ever want to leave? Miss Vidal has become my best friend and a dear comfort to me. She knows what I go through.”

Your mother’s lips pursed and her eyes crinkled around the edges in a way that was all too familiar. Like she knew something you didn’t. “Sweetheart, that’s why I wanted to sit you down really. See your father and I have been communicating with the sheriff. You remember Richard Howards right? You were in the same class in grade school.”

A town as small as Westview hardly awarded privacy and the idea of being strangers to others. So you simply said, “Of course.”

Your mother nodded and fiddled with her pearl necklace as she spoke, “After the funeral we went down to settle the business of your husband’s work details. We wanted it done through the sheriff’s office just in case they tried to cause problems for you.”

“Why would they do that?” you wondered as you sipped your coffee and looked out the window toward the drug store Rio was contained in.

Your mother frowned deeply. “Have you not been looking through your mail? I suppose most of it must be trash — a lot of it is advertisements and magazine samples these days — but Eastview Grain Milling wanted to deny wrongdoing. They were going to try and drag his widow — you — through the mud in the process.”

Your eyes flashed back to her, eyebrows shot up high. “Under what grounds? I’ve no money and he certainly didn’t have much after his paychecks. He died in their factory.”

Your mother nodded slowly. “Precisely the issue, isn’t it?”

“Is it taken care of?” you asked hesitantly.

“We handled it. Mostly your father — he’s, well, you know how he is.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Your mother eyed you. “When did you become so uninterested in what happens to you, darling? You used to call your father if you got religious scripture —“

“Shouldn’t it be wrong to send that to someone’s home instead of finding other creative ways to advertise? Who wants to join an indescribable society without merit and has no name?”

“My point,” she interrupted before you could get riled up, “is that you haven’t been . . . You. Not for a while.”

“Well, my husband died.”

Your mother gasped your name out, slamming her cup on the table in shock. You stared back at her with a weak shrug. “It’s true. I’m trying to . . . I don’t know, Mother. Rekindle my desire to live?”

“Then go to the doctor!” she cried, and you paused to note the look of desperation in her gaze, “Come home to your father and I while you recover — you know we’d take care of you. But please, sweetheart, something isn’t right about this woman.”

“You don’t even know her,” you snapped. Then you breathed out, startled at your own tone. You gathered yourself, your thoughts, and said, “She’s my only friend. My neighbors aren’t kindly women, Mother.”

“Have you asked her anything of value?” she demands. “How she came to be widowed? What year she got married? How they met?”

“Why are you so suspicious of her? Do you think she’s a commie? I assure you, Mother,” you bit out, “after the death of her husband she’s never been more drawn to this countries’ ideals.”

“No.” Exasperated, the woman who looked so much like yourself leaned back into the shiny leather booths and rubbed her temple. “Mister Howards did a check on Miss Vidal’s records.”

“Mother, you didn’t.”

“She was never married,” she blurted once again, cutting you off from whatever it is you began to say.

You sat in frozen silence, shock more than anything coating you like a wet blanket. “W-what?”

“Rio Vidal has a completely blank canvas, sweetheart,” your mother told you, eyes softening when she took in your expression, “and I’m afraid that means that no records indicate she was ever married, much less to a man in the service.”

2024

You flipped the page of the current cookbook and steadied it on the stand, dropping a few chives into the soup you were prepping.

You almost destroyed the kitchen in a fury when you saw perfectly tailored apron that you always eyed in the store hanging on the hook near the back door.

You settled for dumping out Rio’s beers instead and getting to work. She allotted you as much time in the kitchen as you requested — but the knives you used were somehow spelled to never turn against her no matter how hard you tried. They would be come heavy in your hands and eventually disappear when you grew defeated.

You had an entirely different plan for her instead of stabbing her to death. Less messy and a lot more manageable in terms of sneaking it into dinner.

You didn’t know if you could kill Death — but you sure as shit would try. She’s kept you cooped up for no less than three weeks so far and any and all attempts were met with mockery and depending on her mood, you facedown and fucked into oblivion.

You hated it.

Fuck.

You emptied your brain for now to keep your attention focused on making this dinner as heavily flavored as possible. You tipped in a little wine for extra flavor, even, and took a giant gulp from the bottle yourself.

You set the table and poured wine for both of you. Your hands shook despite yourself and your body was stiff. You folded napkins just as perfectly as your mother had taught you and set the silverware in order.

You served each bowl a helping of the soup.

At the last second before you knew she would be walking through the door, you opened the box of rat poison and dumped all of the contents in and stirred carefully and hoped there was one thing that could defeat Death.

Your desperation — it was making you sloppy. Perhaps if you had waited it out longer and thought about it you would have decided that fucking rat poison wouldn’t work on her.

But it didn’t cross you — not when you could feel the subtle shift of the invisible chain around your throat that dug in anytime you inched too close to the property line. Not when you tried to make a new design for the rooms and ended up in bed for hours for thinking you could try to enjoy this life again.

Never. Again.

She came in through the garage door with a flourish. For whatever reason you couldn’t grasp, she wore suits when she left and came home as though she were going to a normal nine to five job instead of reaping souls for her jars of whatever the fuck she did with them.

She strides through the house, calling your name and finding you waiting at the table with a fake smile plastered to your face and your chin resting on your palm as you greeted her.

“What a sight,” she drew out as she took her jacket off and slung it over her chair before rounding the table, “and what a beautiful dinner, too,” she added, finger lifting your chin. You let her guide you into a soft kiss, playing your role until you could unleash yourself entirely.

“Mm,” you said, then spread a hand out. “I made something new. It may not be up to my normal standards, considering.”

Rio eyed you curiously as she undid her sleeve cuffs and sat down across from you. Steam was still rising from the bowl and she stretched her arms out to allow her sleeves to ride up.

“I am sure that whatever you’ve made will be as delicious as the things you’ve made ten times before.” She went for the glass of wine first, so you followed in suit.

For once you started to feel like the lioness stalking her prey rather than the prey itself. You knew for sure that Rio could sense your observant gaze — how you kept attention to her over the rim of your wine glass and as you twirled and sipped at your soup.

It sparked curiosity and perhaps even a little suspicion from her end of the enchantment she had on you. Good. It was your turn to play a game with rules she couldn’t possibly follow.

“What did you do today?” she asked, setting the glass down and going to grab the spoon laid pointedly out instead. Dipped into soup, lifted to a mouth.

You smiled as she sipped it, and said casually, “Oh I didn’t get up to much. The house is quiet even with Billy around to keep company. Too big. I pulled some weeds from the garden and harvested some vegetables.”

“Did you now.” Dark swirls of magic in her eyes — an illusion to keep you from reading her. You hated that she used it so often.

“Mm.” You ran your finger around and around the rim of your wine glass. “I think a dog would be nice too. More company and would be enough to keep me busy.”

“A dog,” Rio echoed as she ingested a second sip of soup. “I thought you hated dogs.”

“Until I learned they hated you. Now I think one would be rather nice.”

Eyes locked across the table, and a small smile formed. “My angel wants a dog. As if it would protect you from me.”

Silence filled the room as you prepared for a standoff. Something about her demeanor had grown darker and more pronounced than when she stepped through the door — and if Rio knew you a hundred ways you knew her at least ninety-nine.

She knew.

She finished the entire bowl and let the spoon fall with a clang into it, leaning back into her chair to finish her wine. “Angel, what a delicious meal. I was worried I would never get to taste your cooking again. It’s one of the ways I can understand how you’re feeling without invading you with my. . . Abilities. Your cooking is your tell.”

You held your glass loosely in hand, allowing your features to come across as lazy and uninterested despite feeling as though a bloody battle were about to ensue. You lay your chin on the top of the back of your hand holding the glass.

“Oh?” you say, pretending curious reactions to keep her talking. She would be gone by now if the poison had worked, so you could only hope she couldn’t have tasted it. “What did this meal tell you about me tonight, then?”

Rio takes one of her index fingers and runs it along the inside of the bowl until it comes back with remains. She sticks it onto her tongue and leans forward as if to tell you a secret.

“It means, angel, that tonight you gambled with Death and you were feeling bold and tried something new and out of your usual style. So fucking bold that you thought a mortal poison — a weak one at that — would destroy me.” Something deadly and calm crossed her face, but the smile was something you’ve only seen a few times on her, “I am no rat, angel. All you’ve done tonight is play a little game I indulged in.”

Blood filled your ears. You could hear your heartbeat so fucking loud and you were drowning in the thickness of it.

Then pain pulled you out of it as quickly as it forced you in. You jumped, turning and realizing you’d broken your glass. Wine mixed with blood as shards of glass struck deep into your skin.

The pain didn’t do much to douse the fire that was your rage, your upset, your years of distress.

It lit them all up like gasoline on a volatile fire. You slammed your bloody fist onto the table and shoved it into Rio, who grunted in surprise as her hands flew up to catch it before it rammed into her abdomen.

“I am not your plaything for you to amuse yourself with when you’re bored and can’t find Agatha to annoy,” you spat, shoving the chair with your foot and causing the table to inch deeper into her palms. “I will find a way to destroy you — collar or not.”

Something you said was wrong, or perhaps the way you said it. One moment she was shocked and even bemused at your explosion and next she shoved the table back into your direction. You had to leap out of the way with the speed in which she had kicked it.

Glass and silverware went flying as the table slammed into the entryway and wall, shattering into broken pieces. A piece from one of the bowls snagged your cheek but the pain was minuscule and you grabbed the empty pot from the sink and threw it at her.

“You’re fucking pathetic, sweetheart.” Rio whipped her hand out and caught the pot with a swirl of dark green. She twisted her fingers and you watched in despair as the object was crumbled like a ball of paper and tossed out the window behind you.

You ducked for cover and cursed viciously as she crunched through broken plate ware and kicked aside table-legs for good measure in case you got any ideas.

She knelt down before you and wrapped her hand around the back of your neck tenderly, caressing the spot where her sigil hummed the loudest when she was near.

"You are my only focus now," she told you calmly, then grinned as though sharing a joke, "As long as we don't count the soul-reaping I do. But that's not really something I can simply give up, I'm afraid. I will admit I was impressed by your sad attempt at freeing yourself from me that I rewarded you with . . . enclosed freedom. I decided to decrease the size of your enclosure, really, is all I did. You never left me."

You bared your teeth at her in a meek attempt at having some sort of shield from her mocking. Blood dribbled into your mouth, between your teeth, and soaked into your tongue.

"I will never be complicit to this again," you spat at her. You hoped the droplets wouldn't wash out of her pants. She ignored the staining as though it were a common occurrence. "You can't make me happy, Rio. All of this -- from the day we met -- has been built on a lie that has crumbled around you. You aren't lovable."

The pressure suddenly eased as Rio seemed to process what you said to her. You had hoped to hit a weak spot and get her angry enough to back off, but her next response was the exact opposite.

"If I cannot make you love me," she whispered, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your ear, then your jaw, "then I will give you a part of me that you have absolutely no choice but to love. Much better than a dog."

Dread slapped you across the face as Rio pulled back and snapped her fingers.

You were out before you could process her statement entirely.

You awoke in the bedroom under the cool sheets. You had a distinct throbbing in your head that reminded you of drinking too much or pulling an all-nighter during the nineties when you went to college for the first time.

You sat up slowly to prevent the increase of pain and crossed your arms when the sheets fell. You were naked -- entirely fucking naked -- and there was no evidence of any indication of Rio being around while you were out.

You trembled when you went over the events of the night. The alarm clock said it was five in the morning -- dinner had been at six. you slept for eleven hours straight . . . or were kept in a controlled state of unconsciousness by Rio until she could decide what to do with you.

As if summoned by your loud thinking, the door opened and in came Death herself. She looked rather stern as if you had started a stupid, petty fight and were at fault for it.

You wanted to wring her neck.

She took your silence in, the hostile expression, and swaggered on over to the bed like it was an invitation rather than a warning. She was wearing a silk robe and on closer inspection you noted her wet hair was in a bun.

"Did you get the tantrum out of you?" she asked casually, leaning over to turn on the bedside table lamp.

You curled your lip at her like a tethered animal that's been cornered and whipped.

"Because, you see," she continued, undoing the belt of her robe and letting it slide off her shoulders to reveal nothing but her prone form underneath, "I've decided that despite your outburst to give you a gift."

"I do not want," you breathed, finding leverage and support in the sheets keeping you covered, rage now leaking into your every word, "any gift you think to offer me. I don't want it. Fuck off."

Rio sat down next to you with a pout as she revealed a green rose in perfect beauty to you. "From my own personal gardens. It grew and died for you, my love."

The phantom sting from your thumb where one of her roses had cut you when you first saw one of those damned things in years made you fist the mattress underneath the comforter and sheets covering you.

"I am tired of things dying for me."

And suddenly a palm was on your forehead, shoving it down onto the soft, feather-stuffed pillows as Rio flung a leg over your waist and leaned over you. "Well, isn't that just too bad?" she murmured. "I don't get your love, and you don't get to stop those that lose their lives in your place. A pity all around."

You tried to ignore her, dragging your eyes upward to the ceiling instead as tears threatened to rise. You were so fucking tired -- of her, of living like this, of fighting.

"You're going to make me feel good in return for that stunt you pulled during dinner," Rio told you in a matter-of-fact tone, not minding you not keeping focus on her as she ripped the protection off your body and allowed the cold to sweep over your skin. "And after, I'm going to give you something I've only ever given to one other person."

You did not follow the line of discussion, the branching topic she wiggled in front of you like meat on a string. You told her you did not want it because her gifts always came with unspoken implications.

She moved suddenly and quickly, her body moving upward until she was hovering over your upturned face and she reached a hand down to run fingers through your hair. "Remember to breath, angel," she purred and then lowered herself onto you. Then she tugged when she got no initial reaction, “You’re gonna touch me, sweetheart. Go on. Don’t make it worse for yourself.”

Even as your tongue began to lick upward on instinct, you debated with yourself on biting her. Hard.

She’d probably only be mildly irritated at most and take it as a challenge rather than an attempt to get her off of you.

Your hands shakily reached up instead and with one hand you dug fingers mercilessly into the meat of her hip while a second hand scrunched between you two so you could thrust two fingers upward at the same time as your tongue entered her.

Rio released a moan that was breathy and sweet in essence as her thighs took form around either side of your head. You felt the headboard move and figured she was grabbing onto it with her other hand.

“Fuck — you still remember what I need, don’t you, angel? Good girls always remember even if they don’t want to,” she whispered in unsteady gasps as you found a rhythm. She kept herself from moving at first, instead using built up energy to dig nails into your scalp as your fingers thrusted upward while your tongue created tight friction.

Everything about her made you ache — down to the familiar smell of her and the way she twitched when you thrust slowly in the circular motion that she liked.

She was going back and forth from offering praise to you to being unable to form coherent words for some seconds when you let your teeth graze her clit every so often. Never enough for her to come.

“You’re being a tease,” she told you obviously, grip tightening with warning. However the grip faltered ever so slightly when you found the spongy tissue inside of her and added pressure. She fell into a low gasp and a knock against the headboard made you guess she had dropped her head on it.

“Fuck — right there. Yes, angel, keep going.”

You obeyed for a brief period in order to draw her closer to the edge. She was fiercely grinding her pussy down against your face now as she kept herself balanced.

Her thighs were beginning to twitch around your head and she was getting slicker by the moment. She was entirely vulnerable above you but you now knew not to make the mistake and think she didn’t have some sort of defense ready if you did something really stupid.

Just when you knew she would tip over is when you pull away, allowing your fingers to brush her g-spot one last time and sending her careening over that sharp edge. She let out a choked moan, surprised, as you abruptly removed all stimulation minus the forceful grinding she was giving you.

She panted above you but she didn’t sound satisfied like she usually does when she has an orgasm. She sounded wrung out, like reaching something with no payout.

“You have some goddamn balls,” Rio snarled, slipping away from your face and snatching it in her palm despite the wetness covering it. “You ruin my orgasm and think it’ll go any good for you?”

You stare her down with unwavering contempt. “You still came, didn’t you?”

“Oh, I’m loving this new part of you. The vile rage that seeps from your pores every second you’re around me,” she sneers as she wipes a trail of her slick from around your chin and shoves the appendage in your mouth.

You bite her finger but she does not flinch, does not blink. She only grins at you. “Oh yes, you wild little thing of mine. I am going to enjoy what I am going to do next. It will dampen that fire in your belly — or perhaps it will enrage you further. I cannot wait to see.”

You were grabbed so roughly you hardly at time to fight back. Arms and legs were rearranged and your face was shoved facedown into the pillows this time as fingers drifted gingerly down your spine.

“So pretty,” your captor mused, as if considering a piece of art in a museum. They trailed down even further until they brushed against the backs of your legs and angled them up so your knees and ass rose into the air. “Yes, angel, I’m going to want you to stay like this. Be my muse.”

“I will destroy your entire being,” you vowed as the magical directive took effect and your muscles relaxed without your consent. The weight of the bed lifted as Rio removed herself and murmured something under her breath.

“While you work on that, I think I’ll work on something else more productive,” she mused as she rejoined you a few moments later with her pelvis resting against the very bottom of your ass.

“You say a lot of words but speak such bullshit,” you snarled back, unable to move your hips an inch despite your attempts.

Rio laughed. “Fuck, I love you so much. Which is going to make this all the more fun.” And then you felt it sliding between the crevice where your cunt was.

“Absolutely not,” you jerked your upper body forward in desperation with no prevail, you were unable to get away. To make it worse she placed what she believed to be soothing hand on your now clammy back. “Rio — Rio, stop.”

She ignored you and tested you for wetness, and you were embarrassed at what she found when she sought it out. She leaned her body over your upturned hips and whispered, “So wet and yet you claim you want me to stop?”

“That’s how consent works, Rio,” you panted, jerking your shoulder but gaining no traction as she moved just out of reach in time. “I say stop and you stop.”

“I’m afraid that’s not in our contract, my love,” she sighed as she fingered the area around your neck and somehow managed to pull tight. Your airflow was restricted and you gasped out for air. “I own you entirely and have for a very long time. I decided you were mine the second I was called to take you away. I’m gladly taking others instead — and you’re granted a lifelong advantage on top of that. It’s time we add to it — don’t you think? Keep that destructive, wandering, little brain of yours busy will do wonders so I don’t have to dumb you down with my magic.”

She released you and your head fell back down as you gasped and inhaled for breath, fingers flexing into the sheets as dizziness swirled around you.

The tears started then. Rio crooned as she kissed gently down your back and entered you with an ease of a lover who actually cared would.

“Oh, angel, there is no need for those,” she murmured as she sucked bruises where each kiss was left. “Tears are a waste of your energy when considering why you’re crying.”

“Fuck you,” you sniffled, the emotions overwhelming you too much and your brain filled with an overload of pleasure chemicals to say much else.

“I’m so trying,” she promises followed by a very deep thrust. “Do you know what I’m doing, love? Why I chose to wear the cock?”

You didn’t answer her, too wrapped up in your own feelings to play her game and amuse her as she fucked you like her life depended on it.

“It’s because,” she continues like she was discussing the weather with you, “I’m going to breed you. I’ve put some thought into it — you’d be impressed how much time I spent thinking instead of acting on innate desires.”

Your body shuddered when the ridges of her specially designed cock rubbed your walls, followed by one of her arms reaching around so she could cup your breasts. “You never liked being bored, did you?” she grunted as she found a better angle and upped her speed.

You let out a sob-filled moan and suddenly you could move your hips again — and the first thing you found yourself doing was thrusting them back in time to meet her.

“Good girl,” she whispered, kisses lining your jaw, down your neck as she squeezed your breast and kept you in a constant state of physical overstimulation and unable to clearly think. “You’re doing so fucking good despite how fucking difficult you’ve been lately. That’s okay — we’re going to fix that aren’t we?”

Suddenly you were drawn upwards until you sat on her thighs, with her chest pressed against your back as she rolled her hips as deep as they would go and held you up with the arm holding your tits.

“I’m going to make sure you stay, angel. I’ve lost — I’ve lost too much already.” Through the fucked out haze you thought you detected despair and need within the tone she used — but she didn’t allow you long to process it as her other hand reached down and started rubbing your clit with harsh beats that met her thrusts.

“I’m going to — I’m going to give us a better life, okay?” she whispered just as the build up continued to grow with no possible escape in sight.

You gave in — at least for this — and closed your eyes and leaned your head back against her shoulder as she kept her pace violent and unyielding, seeming to have a goal to achieve.

It didn’t take much longer — not for you or Rio. Both of you were thrown into orgasms that had you rocking forward back down into the bed, your groan and gasps eroding away at any belief she would ever let you go.

A tingle that you came to associate with her use of magic started rippling across your skin like electricity until Rio stopped moving inside of you, growing briefly still.

You were shaking and trembling, biting your tongue so hard that blood filled your mouth as you contained your devastated cries and curled your legs into you.

Rio brushed some hair away from your neck and rubbed at your back in an effort to comfort you. Perhaps she thought you were overwhelmed in the way she was — you weren’t entirely sure ever what Rio thought most days.

“It’s going to be okay,” she tried to soothe, her touch like burning oil as you tried to flinch away from her. “Angel? I promise. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to be a family. I am Death. Nothing will take us away.”

But who was Death really when she was able to create life? The very thing Rio had once claimed was against her rules.

Rio and Reader will return in Part Three.

Taglist [ holy shit I remembered ]: @girlsgotissues ( it won’t let me tag u im so sorry )

PART THREE

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Honey, I'm home

Pairing: Juju Watkins x Singer!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Genre: Fluff | Secret Relationship | First-Person POV

Summary: Soft Launch pics to Hard Launch kisses

I was sitting cross-legged on my couch, phone in one hand and a bowl of fruit in the other, scrolling through my notifications. My newly released song was everywhere—TikTok, Twitter, Instagram. Fans were analyzing the lyrics, dissecting every line, and trying to figure out who it was about.

They had no idea.

"THIS HAS TO BE ABOUT SOMEONE!" one tweet read.

"Who broke her heart, who healed it, and how do we thank them?" another fan wrote.

I smirked, taking another bite of pineapple. The thing was, the song wasn’t about heartbreak—it was about her.

Juju.

My secret girlfriend.

We had been soft launching each other for months—her wearing my merch at post-game interviews, me casually posting a pic of our intertwined hands without showing her face, her commenting a simple emoji under my pictures. Subtle, but not too subtle. Enough to keep the fans guessing.

Then, she went and turned it up a notch.

Juju Watkins tagged you in a post.

I clicked the notification, and my breath hitched. It was a mirror selfie of us from last night—me leaning against her, half my face visible, and her hand resting on my waist. But what caught my eye was the gold chain around her neck, shining under the dim lighting.

My initials.

And I had the same exact chain with hers.

As if that wasn’t enough, she posted the picture on her Instagram story, with my song playing over it.

The internet went insane.

The next evening, I was in the kitchen, live on Instagram, breaking down the meaning behind the song while cooking.

"Okay, so the first verse is about meeting someone when you least expect it, right? Like, you don't go looking for love, but it just—" I snapped my fingers, "—finds you. That's what happened to me."

The comments were rolling in.

"WHO???"

"Drop the name, girl."

"Soft launch era over???"

I chuckled, stirring the sauce on the stove. "Y'all so nosy."

Just then, the front door swung open.

"Honey, I'm home!"

My soul left my body.

I whipped my head around, eyes wide as Juju strolled into the kitchen, completely unaware that I was live.

The comments blew up instantly.

"JUJU???"

"NAH, DID SHE JUST SAY 'HONEY, I'M HOME'?"

"WE KNEW IT!!!"

Juju finally noticed my phone propped up against the spice rack. Her eyes widened slightly, but instead of backing out, she smirked and walked straight up to me, wrapping her arms around my waist from behind.

"Wait—Ju, I'm live," I whispered, but it was too late.

She kissed my cheek, then my jaw, then—oh. Right on the lips.

The live chat lost its mind.

I groaned, laughing against her lips. "You really just did that?"

Juju grinned, resting her chin on my shoulder. "They were gonna find out eventually, might as well be now."

"HARD LAUNCH LETS GOOOOO."

"Juju said 'idc no more' LMFAOOO."

"I KNEW IT WAS HER I JUST KNEW IT."

I shook my head, playfully pushing her away. "Fine, since you're here, you can help me cook."

Juju held up her hands. "Oh no, last time I helped, you almost set the kitchen on fire."

"That was your fault!" I shot back.

She smirked. "Okay, sure. Babe"

I roll my eyes, "Judea I swear,"

She gasped. "Not you using my full name on live!"

The comments exploded again.

"JUDEA?? WE GETTING GOVERNMENT NAMES NOW???"

"This live is the gift that keeps on giving."

Juju laughed, grabbing a spoon and stirring the sauce. "So, tell them about the bridge in your song. I love that part."

I side-eyed her but continued, "Okay, so the bridge is the most personal part for me. It’s about realizing that love isn't about being found, it's about being seen—and wanting to stay right where you are."

Juju's smile softened. "That’s my favorite line."

I turned back to the camera. "Alright, y’all. That’s enough tea for tonight. Dinner is almost ready, and somebody needs my full attention."

Juju smirked. "Damn right."

And with that, I ended the live, knowing the internet would be in shambles for days.

---

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-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[creeksandsocks]

The Diner

Pairing Eddie Munson x f!reader

Tags: Fluffy, Mature (just to be safe), bad writing, writer has no knowledge of Dnd, Mentions of food/eating

Authors note: okay, this is my first EVER fic, so please bear with me 😪 as the writing and pacing will probably be janky. This is really a conglomeration of a bunch of little ideas that come into my head about the man of the hour, please feel free to leave me constrictive criticism or any asks! Thank you so much for reading my fic *mwah

[3.8k words]

It's freezing, early winter’s 9 PM wind gives you goosebumps down your legs. You wrangle the flowing pleats of your skirt in your left hand, hoping to both provide yourself any semblance of insulation and protect yourself from flashing your panties to the empty Hawkins High Parking lot. Your right hand clutches the pay phone to you, it stays nestled in the crook of your shoulder as you desperately try to call Steve. 

Your eyes reread the graffiti that was hastily scratched into the weathered plastic of the booth. Before you can reread the entirety of the angsty scribbles on the wall, you're put through to voicemail. For the umpteeth time,  you hear his outgoing message repeat “You’ve reached Steve, I can’t answer your-”. You slam your finger onto the “2” symbol of the key pad, effectively skipping through the rest of his message so you can beg into the receiver.

“Hey, man!” you grit “I get your probably tired, but, like, im freezing out here. Please come pick me up- us up!”

You're stranded in the parking lot of your own high school. Dustin had somehow convinced you that it was in fact a good use of your Friday night to drive him to his hellfire club meeting. Because you loved him (and because your BFF Robin was forced into an awkward and inescapable dinner with her estranged grandparents) and your Friday night was rendered free you gave the kid a ride. After dropping him off and sending a lighthearted wave his way (which he decided he isn’t yet too cool to reciprocate). You tried pulling out of your spot. The thing is, you’re close enough to downtown and already out of the comfort of your bed that you decided to make your time at least a little bit useful, maybe exchange the sweater that's been sitting in your trunk for two months or windowshop downtown? But, your plans were ruined the second you place your foot on the gas.

While contorted in the front seat, trying to stretch and see behind yourself as you peel out of your spot, the car's steering wheel pulled against you and and the entire vehicle veered left. Slamming your foot on the break your heart sunk. Fuck, you think im screwed. You hop out of the drivers chair and the cold bites at you as you timidly make your way around your car, investigating what the problem could be. You make a semicircle around the hood of your car before you are met with the culprit. A cartoonishly large nail was stabbed into the side of your tire, leaving the entire thing deflated. 

Though it felt like your joints had been frozen and locked into place by the nipping cold, you remarkably made it back into the driver's seat of your car, relishing the heated air that swirled around you. Running through ideas you decided your best bet was Steve. You didn’t have a spare tire, your parents would probably make a whole fuss out of your flat tire, robin was busy, too. Though he had made a big point on how “fucking awesomeeee” his before-dinner nap would be, you couldn’t fathom it lasting longer than the four hours it had been - let alone a phone call blaring from his nightstand. 

You scavenged around your car and ended up with a decent ball of random change from the floor mats of your car. Reaching into the backseat you grabbed the sweater you had stashed back there before leaving. You threw it over your head, and pulled your hair from being trapped under the neckline. You braced yourself and did a mad dash to the phone booth. You called Steve three times before you decided your attempts to rouse the, apparently still, sleeping bear were futile and trudged back to your car. After turning your keys in the ignition and warming your stiff fingers in the vents you devised a plan. You'll wait here for the duration of Dustin’s campaign When the meeting is scheduled to end, you return to the phone booth. Given that the meeting goes its usual fifteen minutes overtime, you'll have enough time to call and convince Steve to come and be a hero to both you and Dustin. In the absolute worst, most embarrassing, hoping-you-get-hit-by-lightning case you could ask Gareth for a ride. Out of all the driving-age Hellfire members, he’d probably be most keen on doing you a favor like this. In fact, he said he owed you his “entire life and academic career” when you corrected his French homework for him. But, you've never hung out with, colloquially known to Dustin, “the boys”. Let alone any boy ever. It just felt too intimate to ask him for a ride, besides you weren’t sure you'd be able to handle standing in the vicinity of the leading member of Hellfire who’s been the apple of your eye for the past few months, Eddie.

To set the record straight, Eddie is known as gumdrop to you and Robin (because it is in fact best friend law to have nicknames for your guys’ crushes). Robin, you and Steve have all basked in the shared misery of lovesickness together from behind the counter of your job at Family Video. Besides silently judging customers and their movie choices, you spent your shifts reveling in moments throughout the day when you had brief and blushing eye contact with your respective crushes. 

For now, you were entirely content with adoringly staring at the side of Eddie’s big, boyish head from the last row of your history class. Besides gentle urging from both your closest friends, you’ve never really made a move on him. Other than asking him the day’s date or sharing shocked eye contact whenever your teacher said something especially out of pocket. In the cafeteria, Robin often stared at you knowingly every time you started gumdrop’s direction, giggling when he made a stupid or obscene gesture from the head of his own table. She was frankly disgusted when you blushed at him halfway-choking on a pretzel. You thought, hahaha hes sooo funny and silly he coughed omgg lol his friends didnt notice when the pretzel went downthe wrong pipe ahahha omg hes so cute i didnt even get the ick from that he's like a baby ani-.

That leads you to now, freezing and hopeless. From far away you hear the auditorium doors slam “damn it!” You curse. The hollering of pubescent boys is a telltale sign Hellfire has let out. You decide that it's the lesser of two evils to just ask Gareth for a ride rather than be discovered by a pack of teenage boys as you curl yourself around a pay phone. You put your last 10¢ into the pay phone and add to the avalanche of messages Steve will be bombarded with when he wakes up. “Okay, so! Change of plans, I'm getting a ride you don't need to do anything, goodnight love you bye!” You quickly gush out before you slam the phone back into its holder. Resulting in a  reverberating, metallic chime from the man-handled tech. You lean your back on the wall of the school, pitching both your feet out in front of you and using the push of them to keep you balanced. You take a deep breath, it's refreshing even though stunted by the pinching cold. Moments after you’ve made yourself comfortable against the brick wall, Jeff swings around the corner followed by Freak and Gareth. 

They do look shocked to see you, but certainly not disappointed. In fact, they're probably in heaven. You're a pretty girl stationed just outside of a seemingly successful club meeting. They form a line facing you, and Gareth speaks up first. “Hi, what’re you doin’ here? Like, we don’t mind or anything but Dustin said you were just dropping him off?” You inhale to reply before Jeff blurts out “We’re actually gonna grab some burgers down the road, if you wanted to come?” The sweet boy tries to dull his own enthusiasm by (not)cooly adding “Cause you're with Dustin anyways”. I mean, you are hungry and Dustin loves these guys, why deprive him of a prime Friday night just because you are nervous? You shock yourself with how confidently you reply “Yeah, actually! I would love to, I mean as long as it's not a burden at all!”. 

“Oh shit!” freak interjects and whips his head towards his left, “Jeff I left my backpack in your car”. Jeff deadpans the man before gesturing for him to follow out into the parking lot. Now alone there's a comfortable silence between you and Gareth.

He breaks the silence asking you how your night went. You start, “Uh… my car actually-”.

You’re abruptly cut off by being body slammed into the brick wall behind you. Your senses are overwhelmed by a throb at the back of your head and shoulders paired with the strong scent of a boy. You groan and slowly open your eyes. Standing in front of you Is Eddie Munson in all of his glory - he tightly rounded the corner thinking he would be met with emptiness, but instead slammed you a step back into the school's wall. As he steps back from you he apologizes profusely, “Oh my god, i'm so sorry, seriously! I really didn’t expect to see you there, are you okay?”. You give him a gentle smile and reassure him “no, don’t worry! It’s really okay, like actually it doesn’ even hurt”. He continues to apologize and confirm you haven’t been damaged by his foolery. You continue to tell him that, really, you’re okay. You forget about the cold air, Gareth (who is bent over laughing at his best friend) and the slight pain in your skull. When you realize that: Eddie is still standing very close to you and he is still very cute from that distance. It seems you both realize at the same time that you're standing intimately close,  but he only steps back seconds later when he’s snapped back into reality by Dustin and Mike rounding the corner. 

“HEY GUYS”, Gareth wheezes as he angles himself towards two youngest arrivals. Now fully upright, but still suffering the aftershocks of what is probably the hardest he’s laughed all week. “Eddie just-” he cuts himself off again with guffawing. 

Eddie whips around, “C’mon man it wasn't even that funny” he grits. Though it’s impossible to tell, it sounds like his eyes are wide and pleading as he commands his friend. Eventually, Gareth is able to share the scenario with both the freshman and the boys returning from their car errand. By the time he's gotten it out, even you and Eddie, though blushing, are able to laugh at yourselves, too.

Youv’e all organized yourself into a huddle. Everyone is delighted to confirm that “operation burger” is indeed still a go; mostly unchanged by you, the newest addition to the escapade. You hadn’t found an appropriate time to share the unfortunate predicament that your car could be found in just yet. You decide that it's better to drop the bomb on Gareth after your group diner-date. Hoping to avoid baskining the in the humiliation for the entirely of your time if he so happens to say no. Eddie, being the only owner of a vehicle large enough to transport the entire group of teenagrs, was forced into being the driver. Thankfully though, he doesn’t seem to mind; assuming the role similarly to how he did with becoming the leader of Hellfire club.

Walking to his van, which is parked in the back corner of the parking lot, Eddie and you lag behind the rest of the group. Walking near him, you watch as both of your guys’ breath is visible in the night air. Though Dustin, Mike, Lucas and Will often gushed about their weekend-long campaigns to you, you didn’t really know much about DnD. Much to the dismay of the kids, you never joined them in a game no matter how eager they seemed to teach you. “So, how was your, uh, game” you question, “is it, like, finished or successful, or did you win or something?”. Though you cringe at yourself for sounding so amateur in your questioning, you’re proud of yourself for talking unprompted.

His furrowed brows raise as he processes the question. He removes his hands from deep inside his leather jacket pockets so that he can gesture with them. “Well it actually was pretty cool!” he enthuses, and you're immediately relieved that he understood you, “They made a lot of progress in it- but it's still far from being done, like a couple hours at least. They usually take a couple meetings before we can wrap them up. But so far, im totally kicking their asses”. He smirks when he notices that you stared kindly at him with big eyes without his entire spiel. Besides softly reassuring him “nice, that's good..” an awkward silence fell between the two of you.

You're close enough to his van that the freshman who were leading the pack are waiting expectantly at the side of the van. From your peripheral vision, you can see him eyeing you. You probably look pathetic right now, goosebumped legs, and clutching your thin sweater around yourself, in a futile warming hug. “Umm” he breaks the silence, “are you cold? I can give you my jacket, it's no problem really-”. You blush and angle your head to the right, hoping to shield your smirk from him. You whip your head around to respond to him, but he's already it shrugging off. Though you’re delighted to wear his jacket. His jacket! You're scared that he's simply offering because he’s a gentleman. It’s not out of character for him to act so gallantly towards you; he opens the classroom door for you every time he's given the opportunity. One time he even pried your stuck locker open for you while you fawned at his biceps flexing under his Slayer band tee. You grab it from him and enjoy the fact that it’s still warm from his body heat. You also enjoy the look of his outfit, a Dio shirt layered over a white long sleeve. You earnestly thank him before you bundle up in it and overlap the front zippered panels on your stomach, wrapping yourself in it. His jacket smells just like him, perfect and manly without the suffocating amounts of cologne.

The entire group reaches the van and piles in. It seemed Eddie wanted to offer you the passenger seat, but Freak was already buckling himself in before he could ask. You’re all squeezed in the back two rows. You, specifically, are squashed between Mike and Dustin. The ride to the diner is filled with boys recounting the events of the campaign, congratulating and criticizing each other. You reach your destination before you’re even able to entirely settle in, it’s maybe four minutes from your school. He parks in the back of the parking lot. He doesn’t want to clog up prime parking with his massive mode of transport. You all rush into the diner and head to one of the booths that lines the walls of the decrepit diner. He gestures, kindly, for you to take the first spot, nearest to the window. You slide in and he quickly follows suit, he wants to make sure he secures the prime spot next to you. Everyone piles in freak next to Eddie and you end up facing Dustin, and you kick his shins under the table like your siblings. Jeff and Gareth are sitting on the backrest of the booth that both younger boys occupy, leaning in. Weirdly, the diner is barren for a Friday night. Some sleazy party is probably booming in one of the estates in a neighbourhood nearby. Though out of the ordinary, none of the group condemns the empty diner. You are subsequently free from prying eyes of jocks and now have even more reason to be rowdy, though still respectful enough to avoid annoying the entire restaurant, diners and waitstaff, alike.

Mel’s diner is nice enough, it’s had a boost in business since Benny’s went out of business a while back. The seats are bright vinyl leather and the two legged table top is infinitely sticky. Some of the overhead lights flicker occasionally, but overall its a nice place with a gumball machine exactly to the left of the front entrance. 

You keep Eddie’s jacket on, not wanting to lose the conforming weight of it wrapped around your shoulders, it also shields you from the night’s cold seeping in through the front windows just next to you. An older waitress comes and collects your orders. You only want a chocolate shake despite the cold, chocolate milkshakes always hit the spot. Dustin orders one too, only switching it for vanilla. Most of the boys order burgers, fries and drinks. They're probably starving - they've unlikely had any sustenance since school ended other than Mountain Dew and Pringles that they feast on during their campaigns. While waiting for the food to come, the boys continue to recap their campaign and Eddie makes sure to tilt his head towards you to fill in any information he thinks that a non-participant would need to follow along.

It feels awfully intimate to have him so close to you, almost cageling you in every time he verbally annotates the conversation. The old leather seats pucker under his manly frame and his radiating body heat makes your mouth water as he's splayed out next to you. Sometime  after placing your orders, he stretched both his arms around the back of the seat rest. Leaving his arms wide and chest opened. It almost feels like his arm is around your shoulders - being squished three people deep into a two-seater has forced your shoulder near to his armpit. From there, his body heat radiates even stronger.

The waitress eventually brings your guys’ food, she splits it into two runs in order to prevent spilling any. Everyone’s quieted now, fully focused on eating their meal. Eddie keeps his left arm, the one behind you, perched on the back of the seats. His right arm was relieved of its station and holds his burger.

He’s a cute eater, you think. He closes his mouth politely as he chews but still stays engaged in the conversation by furrowing his brows or a strained closed-mouthed smile. As he takes a challengingly large bite of the burger ketchup squeezes from the burger onto his lip and pants, his tongue darts out to lick the small drip from his lips. The drip on his jeans is just above the line that connects his thigh to hip. The ketchup doesn’t immediately absorb into the black denim and almost hovers above it, nestled in the folds of his pants. Now, it is not your fault that the ketchup is a mere four inches from his… manly convexity and it is not your fault that you're entranced by the projection in the crotch of his pants. Your head snaps up when he peers over at you with blushing cheeks, embarrassed to have spilled on himself in front of you, even in such a minor amount. You keep eye contact and barely contain snorting laughs  as he gingerly slides a napkin from the table and wipes the glob off his pants. He still has an unchewed mouthful of burger, bulging his cheeks out like a hamster when he slowly places his pointer finger against his mouth. At that, you both chuckle. He balls his previously pointing hand into a fist to cover his mouth as it opens to laugh.

He smirks the left side of his mouth and side eyes you, in an attempt to keep his head straight as he sneaks one of his fries into your shake. Grinning mischievously as he brings the dipped fry to his mouth. You return the favor, keeping your head straight ahead as you strain your eyes looking to the right to steal one of his fries and eat it bite-by-bite. He doesn’t even mind that you chose one of his perfectly soggy long ones instead of a sub-par fry. 

It’s been awhile since you’ve gotten to the diner. You don't want to leave, you've fallen into comfortable conversation with all the guys at the table. You even basked in moments when all pairs of eyes were on you as you shared juicy bits about school drama that was previously entirely unknown to them.

When your waitress finally arrives you all silently agree to pay for your own meals, it's common knowledge among broke high school kids like yourselves that it's everyman for himself when it comes to paying. Everyone pools their money in the middle of the table. As someone who has easy access to the bills and change that clutter the table, Eddie takes to bundling it up and handing it to the waitress, he tells her to keep the change with an unsubtle wink that she’s unamused with. Eddie doesn’t even look at you as he slides the five dollar bill you placed down to pay, back to you. You assume he thought you laid it out on the table as you rifled through your wallet for exact change. Before you can correct him, though, he's already sliding out of the diner booth. You follow him out and hold your flaccid bill out to him.

 “To pay” to tell him, hoping your assumption had been correct, that he just didn’t notice your bill sitting on the table.

“No uh, I did you! I’m happy to do you!” He says as he stretches his arm up to nervously scratch his neck. 

“What?!” you say as you are laughing at his unintentionally implied dirty talk.

“No- wait, I mean I paid for you! Sorry, like I did it for you…” he becomes shy as he corrects himself and his cheeks grow pink.

You spare the poor guy any more embarrassment and thank him before you all trudge out of the diner. Eddie’s just thankful that Gareth wasn’t within earshot of that one, he was unsure he'd ever live it down.

Everyone reassumes their spots as you crowd yourself in the back of his van, and you're disappointed at how short the drive is. You hoped this moment would last forever, if not a little longer. You enjoy the familial feeling that shines in the van. The cold air that greets you as you step out the van pulls you out of the moment. 

You're sure at this point Gareth will give you a ride home, but that's at the back of your mind as you try to catch Eddie's eye so you can wave him off into the night.

[not-an-idiot]

Thank you so much for the tag!

Last song: Summertime by My Chemical Romance

Favourite colour: Darker green and blue, but I like all colours really

Last book: Bang! The complete history of the universe by Brian May, Patrick Moore and Chris Lintott

Last movie: I have no idea, honestly. Maybe Inside Out 2?

Last TV show: Arcane, but didn't watch all of it

Sweet/sour/savory: Depends

Current obsession: Shoot from the hip! And I hope it stays, because I really love this fandom. Also space and astronomy, but that's been going on for a little longer already

Last search: "Übersetzer" ("Translator" in german)

Looking forward to: Watching the new longform tonight and the end of the school year

Tags (no pressure): @letsbesharkfriends @scream-at-a-whisper @boogflake @thinkingabout-girls @i-may-be-an-emu @shallandavar613 anyone who wants to :)

Ten people I'd like to know better .⋆˙✮ ˎˊ˗

Thank you so much for the tag @spocksmalewife! 🤘🔥

Last song: 200 Bodies per Minute by Acumen Nation

Favourite colour: Teal! Petrol blue! Cyan! Turquoise! (tho any shade from green to blue will do) 💚💙

Last book: Principles of Two-Dimensional Design by Wucius Wong (i'm not big on novels lol)

Last movie: Maratonci trče počasni krug (1982) if we're not counting all the Netflix brainrot (and if we are... The Secret Life of Pets 2 💀)

Last TV show: Lexx (but... once again... if we're counting Netflix brainrot... Good Witch 💀💀💀)

Sweet/spicy/savoury: sweet is my weakness ;_;

Current obsession: anything Cracknation related

Last thing I searched online: cd emoji

Looking forward to: next Liburnicon (tho kinda dreading it at the same time) and hopefully seeing DAF in April!

Tags (but no pressure!): @acousticcancer @jar-jar-ate @v4mp1res3verywhere @flashbic @casekt @fallziell @suspiriasuspense @knaveofpentacles @fiul-risipit @athenawilcox and any other mutuals who might feel like it!

[captain-gillian]

thank you to @thisbuildinghasfeelings for starting the fandom memories tag, i am, as always, late to this.

i've been procrastinating making this post for two reasons; firstly i didn't want to admit the show was ending, which i know sounds silly but this show has brought so much joy into my life over the last five years, i don't think I'll ever be ready to say goodbye. and secondly, some of my fandom experiences recently have been, to put it lightly, negative and unwelcoming, but I don't want to let one coward sending lesbophobic anon messages stop me from apprecating what has otherwise been such a welcoming joyful fandom experience.

while I didn't find the fandom until 2022, i've been watching since the first episode aired, and this show has brought me so much happiness (and heartache, it is a drama afterall) over the years.

anyways these are some of my favourite memories from this fandom:

finding community

the thing for me that will always stay with me from this show and fandom is the community built around it. this show at it's core celebrates diverse imperfect characters, and the queer community and on the whole the fandom does too. from the moment i started interacting with the fandom, both here and on twitter i felt welcome and accepted and safe to be myself. this fandom came into my life in a difficult time when i was quite isolated and i will forever treasure the connections and friendships i've made through this show, whether we've never talked one on one or whether we talk every day, I'm so grateful for all of you. it's so beautiful that this silly little firefighter show has brought together so many people from so many walks of life all over the world and brought friends into my life I couldn't imagine my life without (shoutout to @nancys-braids & @fallout-mars) thank you for being a space where i feel free to be myself, even while i'm not able to be irl.

getting back into writing

in june of 2022, I wrote my first 9-1-1 lone star/tarlos fic after a long break from writing, and instantly realised how much I missed it. i'd been a bit hesitant to share the fic, but the kindness from this fandom was an incredible confidence boost. i've now written 23 lone star fics (and counting) and connected with so many people over writing, wether it be my fics or theirs and grown so much as a writer and honestly as a person in that time.

the creativity and talent of this fandom

i've never been part of a fandom as creative and talented as this one, it's been such a joy to read so many incredible fics, see so much beautiful art (from pencil drawing to digital art to anne's creative cross stitching) and watch so many great edits and so much more.

live watching/re-watching

being an international fan i can't always live watch, but the times i've been able to live watch or rewatch with friends, here, in dms or on twitter have always made the watch experience so much more enjoyable. these stories have so much more impact when you can share them communually and react together. watching the tarlos wedding live with friends on twitter will always be a cherished memory.

queer nancy being canon

this moment meant so much to me, I saw a lot of myself in nancy from the very first season, and I always saw her as queer but never expected it to be confirmed in canon, especially in such a beautifully casual way. the way this show treats queerness as something expected, and casual instead of the big dramatic reveal it so often is on television will always mean so much to me.

and finally nancymarjan

not to be dramatic but finding a community of likeminded people who understand and also love my favourite rarepair wlw ship was life changing. the fandom experience can be lonely at times as a lesbian and when shipping femslash ships and i'll be forever greatful for nancymarjan nation <3 the best part of fandom will always be sharing the things you treasure the most with people who treasure them the same way.

thank you @everlastingday @nancys-braids @welcometololaland @reyesstrand @tellmegoodbye @bonheur-cafe for the tags, I loved reading your favourite fandom memories.

open tag because i'm so late <3

[changelingsandothernonsense]

Sujamma Morndas

(since I live in the future)

Tagged by @skyrim-forever thanks for tagging me in this. Tagging @sulphuricgrin @dayundying @archangelsunited @saltymaplesyrup @firefly-factory @nyarevar @pocket-vvardvark and anyone else who's interested. I struggle trying to tag people... Topic: This week, Sujamma wants to know about YOUR OC's special someone. What makes their relationship special? How did they meet? Were they enemies to lovers? Lovers to enemies? Lovers AND Enemies? Are they romantic or platonic? What's their favorite way to cuddle? Favorite date night? Anything and everything you can think of 💕

Josh has a bit of a complicated relationship with romance. He had a string of very close loves as the era turned, but a series of losses has left him with a metaphorical hole in his heart that he's struggled to fill for the past two hundred years. His general rule has been to seek out companionship purely for physical reasons and never moving past that. He knows deep down that he can't go through the prospect of losing someone again. When he gets attached there's no prying him off and he takes rejection quite harshly, death even more so. It takes a lot to make him feel safe enough to re-enter those waters but he's managed to do it four times in 200 years so we'll go over his major romantic entanglements.

Maralie Omani

Maralie was Josh's first romantic partner, though he's had crushes beforehand, nothing really eventuated more than a kiss or a date here and there. He met Maralie when he was 17 and was skulking around the servants quarters whilst his family was staying at the Omani Manor on Elmas Island. Maralie was a few years older than him, and had faked being sick to get out of yet another stuffy party.

Josh was liberating sweets from the larder when he ran into Velanda Omani's granddaughter, and the two hit it off. Social class (Josh being Velothi) complicated things and the two would meet in secret throughout their time together at that manor and would later fall into the same arrangement whenever they were in the same city. After two years of this, Maralie would find herself betrothed to a third cousin who lived in Narsis. Josh, heartbroken by this news, started making plans to elope with her because that worked so well for his parents after all. Unfortunately the couple were found out and this led to a series of events that would see Josh end up in prison in Cyrodiil after going missing for three years. (Servitude within the Camonna Tong).

He wouldn't find out why Maralie never came to the gate that final time until after he was released from prison almost forty years later. He's heartbroken that he missed seeing his son, Adren grow up.

The two would rekindle their relationship as Josh led a group of Dunmer out of Morrowind as Red Mountain erupted (he leads out several). He started making some headway with Adren on this trip as well and thought maybe he'd get a second chance at actually parenting. Unfortunately, Maralie's husband finds out about the affair and sends Josh fleeing to Solstheim. He hears from his son a few months later that Maralie had succumbed to a sickness that had swept through the slums of Windhelm and that he was not wanted at the funeral.

It would be the last time Josh had an interest in a romantic partner until 4E199.

Ilaba'andul-Sul Erra'am Urshilaku

If you were to ask Josh who his first love was, he would tell you that it was Erra. The two had something that Josh has never found again. Some strange, all encompassing closeness that has Josh unable to tell where he ends and Erra begins. This connection is increasingly apparent in the centuries after Erra's death where Josh becomes a walking shrine to his memory.

The two met as part of a job Josh was running for the Blades. Cosades' initial Ashlander contact, Hassor Zainsubani, had recommended Erra's services as a guide and liaison. He would speak on Josh's behalf whilst he sort an audience with the Urshilaku Ashkhan and Wise Woman, respectively. Josh managed to make a terrible first impression with being several hours late to their meeting and then shirking Erra off to go drink with some strangers.

It all gave Erra a terrible headache the next day.

The two start to hit it off once they both clear things up with each other. Erra ends up risking breaking several customs just to help Josh succeed in getting the info he needs about the Nerevarine prophecies. He'd grown incredibly fond of Josh in the month they ended up spending together, and the two end up exchanging letters. They meet up in Ald'ruhn right before Josh vanishes for three months. Erra starts to think that maybe he had read Josh wrong and had decided to try and move on when he started being questioned by Imperial Agents on Josh's whereabouts. He decides to shoot Josh a final letter to and address he had given him in Suran and ended up getting a reply back from Josh's mother and later from Josh.

He had been sick, though Josh never detailed much more than that and the two would start sending letters again for a few more months until Josh just stopped sending them.

Erra chose to wait for a few weeks, concentrating instead on purchasing a house in Maar Gan. Eventually he did get another letter from Josh asking to meet and for an escort north.

The two would not separate again until Erra's death, though it would still take the two a few weeks and a severely injured Josh for them to actually admit how they felt. Once that happened, you'd rarely see them apart. They were so close that the Nerevarine legend peddled by the New Temple just ends up merging both of their exploits to the point that the stories resemble neither of them.

Erra and Josh end up marrying/linking ghosts outside the confines of the main tribe (same sex unions were not a thing within Ashlander society until after Josh and Erra force it). It was a contingency plan for the aftermath of Red Mountain, that Erra alone would have ownership over Josh's remains and Ghost after his death so that he couldn't be messed with (Josh's worst fear is being forced to inhabit a bonewalker after death.) Only things didn't go to plan and the wrong guy died.

Josh goes into several long periods of mourning after Erra's death, still choosing to wear full mourning gear whenever he acts as Ashkhan. Josh models himself after Erra in a lot of ways, from his choice to take on mercenary work, to his auxiliary work with the Redoran, to his choice of clothing. He becomes a walking shrine to those whom he's lost, it's just that he had more of Erra's stuff on hand whereas he'd lost most of his memorabilia of the next person on this list.

Saint Jiub!

He met Saint Jiub once, you know?

Okay maybe it wasn't once, and maybe it was over a period of six years, and maybe he thought he had finally found someone who loves him for him again.

Josh met Jiub on an Imperial Prison Ship en route to Vvardenfell. The two exchanged words, though Josh was busy acting as hostile as possible. They were released separately and Josh didn't think much on the encounter.

They would cross paths a few months later when Jiub was out running supplies between Redoran outposts on his Silt Strider. He ended up spying some poor idiot being attacked by cliff racers during an ashstorm and decided to help him out. Only Josh is a difficult mer to actually help.

He ended up loading a delirious Josh into the caravan and took him to his destination. This interaction went a little smoother, though Josh's awkwardness still muddied things.

They would not meet again for another four years, after Josh gets black out drunk in an alley behind Jiub's apartments in Kvatch during the third celebration of the Nerevaine's defeat of Dagoth Ur in the Dunmeri diaspora.

Jiub ends up patching Josh up and Josh just...doesn't leave. They fall into a comfortable domestic bliss. Jiub was busy writing his memoirs, and Josh was in serious need of anonymity. They decide to move south to Bravil only for the Oblivion Crisis to strike the night before their big move.

Josh lost everything that night, fleeing Kvatch with nothing but the clothes on his back, their matching engraved rings and a heart heavy with guilt over not being able to save someone he loved.

He would move into another period of mourning and still wears the rings they had carved for an eventual marriage ceremony on his left hand.

Sydari Aralen

Josh and Sydari have a bit of a complicated relationship. They clash a lot over the first two years of their on and off relationship. This is mostly because Josh keeps pulling away whenever things get too real for him. He's old by this point and he's bogged down in so much emotional baggage that Josh's ability to assess anything is strangled by his constant expectation that he'll be left grieving again if he lets anyone get too close.

Sydari would have to smash down his walls by force.

Though the two technically met in the Retching Netch in 4E199 where Josh drunkenly makes an ass of himself, Josh does recognise her from somewhere. Namely a messy Azura propelled skooma induced vision that lead Josh out of a massacre about 90 years prior. Josh believes that skooma induced vision damaged his brain a little, making him easily paranoid (more so than he initially is). As a result, Nerevar's found more of a footing to feed into that paranoia.

This ends up pitting Josh and Sydari against each other whilst ultimately trying to get rid of the same problem and this causes a lot of mess to begin with. It was only as Sydari took it upon herself to figure things out that the two started working together. Josh falls very quickly, regardless of his attempts to stop it which sends him into a push and pull loop.

They get together briefly after Frossel only for Josh to mess things up with a freak out on his behalf. They are on and off for two years until Josh finally can't take the instability anymore and just lays his cards out on the table (well most of them). Sydari has been waiting for him to do that for a long time and the two finally get together...

Sort of...

Josh does this the same day that Sydari has to infiltrait the Thalmor embassy and ends up uncovering Josh's identity. The two have a huge fight and break it off. Josh ends up wandering Skyrim off his face for a month until Hircine finds him and Sydari spends her time avoiding Thalmor Justicars and picking up old men from the Ratway.

In that time Sydari gets Josh's dossier translated (or what could be translated, his journals are written in a code on a select few people know). From what she could gather, Josh hadn't been keeping his identity from her for malicious reasons. (Boi is 99% trauma responses). She writes a letter of appology to Josh, hoping it would make him come back.

He comes back, but not with the letter.

The two spend a week locked in Sydari's suite at the Sleeping Giant Inn. Partually because Josh needs a rest and partually because he's finally telling her everything.

They become completely inseperable afte that night. Which is why Josh takes Sydari's dissaperance so hard. Sovngarde takes her away for six years and he kinda loses his mind and bargins with the island of Solstheim trying to find her.

Gotta drop Josh and the Husbando art.

[rainbow-rey]

Shameless - chap. 1

Sukuna x Reader - MDNI!!

Summary: You didn't expect to end up under that guy you met on your weekend getaway, but you're glad you did.

Tags: reader-insert, pov second person, p in v, creamp/e, size k/nk, c/nnilingus

Posted on ao3 as a longfic

It’s at a hockey game that you first meet Sukuna Ryoumen. 

Minnesota Wild versus Seattle Kraken. You’re a Seattle fan through and through, and you were lucky enough to be visiting your friend in the East the very weekend your favourite team was playing there. You bought tickets as soon as you realized the dates lined up. 

Fast forward two weeks, and here you are. You’re donning your navy blue jersey, the one you got at your first Seattle game. Your friends, Shoko and Utahime, are getting seated to your left. 

On your right is an adorable pink-haired little kid, probably around six or seven. He turns to say something to the guy next to him—possibly the most attractive man you’ve ever seen in your life. 

He’s big. Like, at least twice your size, if not triple. His arms are crossed, and the flexed muscles show through his sweater—a deep green one. It matches the Minnesota hat he wears on top of his hair, the same shade of pink as the kid’s. He’s got interesting tattoos on his face. 

Despite him being the enemy, you can’t stop your eyes from dragging up and down his body. He looks like he’s never smiled a day in his life, but when the kid taps his shoulder to talk to him, his face lights up. He answers with enthusiasm, and says something to make the little boy start giggling. Hot and good with kids? They don’t make them like this anymore. 

You might be drooling, but luckily you’re saved when Shoko nudges you to wake you from your trance. “Whoa, dude. You were totally staring at that guy.”

“I was justified, though. Look at him!” You discreetly side-eye the mysterious man to your right. “Hot hockey dad? Sign me up!”

“He’s a Minnesota fan. Might as well give up now. What’re you gonna do when you drive back on Monday?” Shoko has a good point—but what’s the harm in a little hallway crush?

“He also might be married, if he’s got a kid,” says Utahime, taking a bite out of a comically large pretzel.

“I’ll check for a wedding band. D’you think I could find a way to talk to him?” You look over to see the man tickle the boy, making him erupt into contagious little-kid giggles. 

Shoko sighs. “You’re something special, man. No, I don’t know how you’re gonna seduce a married father.”

“Not seduce, and potentially not married, either. God forbid I have a little hope, Sho.”

“I think that what Shoko is saying is to set your expectations very low,” Utahime tells you, very wisely. “If you talk, you talk, and if you don’t, you don’t. It’ll be weird if you try to force anything.”

Shoko nods in agreement. “Also, if you humiliate the shit out of yourself in front of him, we don’t know you.”

“Never seen you in our lives.” Utahime nibbles at her pretzel again. 

“Thanks, guys. I love hearing how much you appreciate and value my company.” 

“Knock ‘em dead, bro.” 

The first goal is scored, and you cheer with the other Seattle fans. Hot Dad’s son stands up, too, jumping with you. 

“Wrong team, Yuji,” he says. “We like the green ones.”

“Aww..” The boy—Yuji—pouts. “Why can’t I cheer for the blue ones?” 

“Because that’s not our team. You live here, Yuji. Don’t you wanna support people from your own state?”

“Yeah, but you live in Seattle. Why don’t you like your city?”

He lives in Seattle?! And Yuji doesn’t live with him… Maybe he’s only an uncle?

“I do like my city, but I used to live here. I grew up with this team. I’m only in Seattle so I can go to school.”

He’s in university—you wonder if you’ll see him around? Probably not. Hot Uncle will most likely stay in your fantasies.

The game finishes before you know it. Nothing interesting happens—other than Seattle winning—for the rest of the weekend. Soon, it’s time for you to go back to your city and start the new school year. 

Your first week is uneventful; it’s your second year, so you don’t need to go to all the networking events you forced yourself into attending last year. It’s just straight into lessons. 

You heard about a few different parties, but you’d rather be there with at least a few people you know, and none of your friends were interested. Satoru mentioned that he wanted to host one, so you’d go to his, but that’s about it. This year, you’re mostly focused on your grades. 

Well, that’s what you thought. All your ambitions fly out the window when a familiar tattooed face sits down next to you in your Sociology lesson. 

“This might sound crazy,” he whispers. “But were you at a hockey game last weekend?”

Holy shit. He recognizes you?

“Uh, yeah. In Minnesota, right? I think we were sitting next to each other?”

“Mhm. I was with my brother, Yuji. I knew you looked familiar. Glad to know I’m not crazy.”

You chuckle. “If it wasn’t you, I’d be a little confused. Not many pink-haired powerlifters around here.”

He laughs. “Thanks—Oh, I can’t believe I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Sukuna Ryoumen.”

You tell him your name as well. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but is cut off by your professor beginning his lecture. 

“Let’s talk later,” he mouths to you. You nod and smile to yourself.

About 30 minutes after your lecture, you have this strange feeling that you’re being followed. 

“Hey,” a familiar voice calls behind you. You were right. The speaker quickens his pace to reach you. “What’s up?”

“Nice to see you again! I don’t have much going on, just heading to the library. You?”

Sukuna shrugs. “I’ve got a class in that direction at two. Otherwise I don’t have anything.”

“It’s one forty-five, you should probably get going. Oh, but do you have plans this evening?”

“Nah, I was just gonna watch TV or something. Why do you ask?”

“My friend Satoru is throwing a party tonight. It starts at ten, if you want to join us.”

“I’m down. Here, I’ll give you my number, so you can text me the address.” Sukuna pulls a random pen out of his pocket. He reaches for your hand and scribbles his number on it. 

You laugh, ignoring the way your hand tingles where he touched it. “I’ll text you. See you tonight, hopefully?”

“See you tonight,” he agrees.

—

“Sukuna! You made it!” You wave over the giant who’s just entered the room. He towers over most of the people—he’s even taller than Satoru, and definitely bigger overall. Sukuna has the most muscle you’ve seen on a human. Something about his physique makes you want to climb him like a tree, but that’s an inside thought. 

His gravelly voice brings you back to the present. “Yeah, I’m here. Do you know where I could get a drink?”

“Sure. Why don’t you come to the kitchen with me and I’ll grab you one?” You grab his (huge, veiny, rough, masculine) hand and drag him through the crowd. 

Once you’re in the kitchen, Sukuna takes a seat on a stool at the counter. “What can I get for you, sir?” 

He smiles and you almost collapse. But you persevere. “I’ll just get a beer, thanks.”

“Alright, then I guess I’ll have one too.” You pull two random longnecks from Satoru’s fridge . You try to look cool and open them using the counter, but of course, the caps go flying. You pick them up whilst trying to regain your dignity, ignoring Sukuna’s barely concealed snicker. “Something funny?” You ask, handing him his bottle. 

“Nothing at all.” He grins at you again, and your knees start wobbling. But again, you persevere. You skirt around the counter and take a seat next to Sukuna, taking a long swig of your drink. You gag a little—it’s been too long since you last had beer, and you forgot how much of an acquired taste it is. 

“So,” Sukuna starts. “Whose house is this again?”

“My friend Satoru. He’s, like, old money rich, so his parents got him this place when he started uni. Suguru lives with him, too. Satoru dated my friend Utahime—the one who lives in Minnesota—but they decided they were better friends. And also that they were both gay.” 

“Ah. So are Satoru and Suguru…”

“Yep. I mean, I don’t think they’re official yet, but Suguru’s been into Satoru since we were kids. And they’re definitely fucking. Haven’t seen him in his own bedroom for months.”

“Oh.”

The two of you chat while you finish your beers. Sukuna actually makes great conversation. He’s funny, too. Hot and funny? He’s gotta be stupid, or something. 

“Truth or dare!”

“Truth, I guess,” you sigh. Why did you agree to play this game in the first place? If you know one thing about your friends, it’s that they really hate seeing you comfortable. 

Satoru’s grin makes your stomach churn. “If you had to fuck someone in this circle right now, who would it be?”

You glance around. Nanami, Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, Sukuna, and two girls whose names you don’t know. You only really have one option (not that you would have chosen anyone over him anyways). Your voice cracks slightly as you answer, “Sukuna.” Your cheeks flare as you feel his eyes on you, but you don’t have it in you to feel shame. 

Two rounds later, it’s Sukuna’s turn. 

Suguru asks the highly-anticipated question. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.” His eyes are on you as he says it. You can feel them burning into your flesh. 

“I dare you to kiss the hottest person in the circle.”

Sukuna’s eyes are still glued to you as he stands up. He doesn’t avert his gaze, not as he offers you his hand and brings you to your feet. Especially not as he slides his hand behind your neck, burying itself into your hair. He only stops looking at you when he closes his eyes and lifts your mouth to his. 

It feels like everything you’ve ever dreamed of. His lips are shockingly soft, and they dance against yours so perfectly. Your mouth parts and his tongue slides in, caressing you so carefully yet so powerfully. It’s not long before you’re devouring each others’ faces. 

Satoru clears his throat. “I love that you guys are happy, but respectfully, please get a room.” 

The two of you pull apart quickly. You return to your respective seats and continue the game, but the vibe is a little different. Y’know, after you just sucked Sukuna’s tongue in front of five other people.

Nothing interesting happens for the rest of the game, other than Sukuna giving you sex eyes the whole time. As soon as you’re all finished, he steals you away from your conversation with Satoru. 

“Hey. Satoru, right?” Sukuna’s hand slips around your waist. “Nice party. Unfortunately, I’m here to steal this one away from you.“ He places a kiss on the top of your head. 

Satoru snorts. “She’s all yours. Oh, and all the rooms upstairs are fair game, just don’t get cream on my furniture.” 

You blush furiously as Sukuna laughs. “Thanks, man.” He guides you towards the stairs and into a hallway. 

“What was that?” you ask. “During the game, I mean.”

“Oh, you mean this?” He smirks, pulling your face up to meet his again. When your lips connect, you nearly decompose, melting into his touch. He’s gentler this time, more careful. One of his hands is behind your neck, threading through your hair, while the other pulls you in by your waist. You can feel his erection grow in between your bodies, and he’s big. You can’t help but imagine how it would feel—in your mouth, in your pussy…

You're breathless when you finally break away from the kiss, for multiple reasons. 

“Y-Yeah, I mean that,” you squeak out.

Sukuna pulls you into a random, empty bedroom and shuts the door behind you. 

His mouth meets yours yet again as he collapses with you on the bed. His lips pepper kisses along your neck , and he makes his way down your body. “Been wanting you since I met you,” he murmurs between pecks. “So fuckin’ small n’ delicate. Thinkin’ of you getting split apart on my fuckin’ cock.” 

You shiver at the thought of it. Sukuna’s fat dick pounding into you. His hands bruising your waist as he fucks up into your tiny cunt. You picture him pumping you full with his cum, overflowing your pussy with his seed. “Please,” you whine. “Fuck me, Sukuna, I need it. I’ve needed it for so long…” 

He nips at your collarbone. “Mm, gonna fuck you so good, baby. But first, I gotta get you all ready for me.” His hands run down your body, cupping your breasts through your shirt with a gentle squeeze. They trail down, all the way to your thighs. He flips your skirt up and massages the skin right next to your panties. He plants kisses on the insides of your legs, finishing with a quick peck of your clit through the fabric. Even the slightest sensation eases a moan out of you. 

“Don’t tease me,” you cry. “I want you, please!” 

“Wait, let me just grab a condom.” You deflate slightly as Sukuna pats down his pockets. 

You weren’t going to suggest this, but it looks like you might have to, considering Sukuna is still patting away.

“I’m clean. If, y’know. If you’re comfortable with that.”

His eyes light up, but then he frowns. “I haven’t gotten tested in a while. I couldn’t put you at risk.”

You hate how responsible he is. “And no condom?”

“Nope. I’m sorry. I wanted this as bad as you do.” He really does look disappointed, and so does his boner. “I’d still eat your pussy, though, if you let me.” 

“Fuck, please do. I want you so bad,” you sigh, thinking about your soaking pussy.

Sukuna groans. His rough hands grasp your thighs, pushing them apart, and he rubs a knuckle along the soaked fabric of your panties. Your cunt aches with need. Sukuna’s fingers leave your core, making you whine, but he makes up for it when he hooks his index into the waistband of your panties and tugs them down. Your pussy clenches when the cool air hits it. Sukuna presses close-mouthed kisses to the soft skin of your thighs, making his way towards where you need him the most. 

He parts your sopping folds with two fingers, and his tongue darts out to lick a stripe up your cunt. You cry out in pleasure.

“F-fuck… hnngh…! M-more, more!” you whimper. 

Sukuna continues lapping at your hole, while his hands take a bruising hold on your hips. You can feel yourself nearing your limit as he begins sucking at your swollen clit. You’re nearly screaming as your fingers find sanctuary in his hair, pulling at it as hard as you can. You think it can’t get any better, when Sukuna decides to push two fingers into your center. 

“Fuck! Fuck, I’m coming, I’m coming…”

You’re pushed off the edge as Sukuna starts thrusting with his fingers. Your pussy clenches, your body convulsing as he continues his assault on your cunt. Your vision goes white, the only thing you can feel being his tongue and his fingers. 

You recover from your orgasm, panting. Sukuna’s touch leaves your pussy, and you can feel your hole leaking. Sukuna collapses next to you, sucking your cum off his fingers. “You taste so fucking good, y’know that?” He grins as you blush. “Here, I’ll show you.” 

He grabs you by the waist and pulls you on top of him, then brings his lips up to yours, encasing them in a kiss. His tongue slips into your mouth, tangling itself with yours. The way his body feels pressing against yours is enough to satisfy you for a lifetime. 

[an-aura-about-you]

Thank you for the tag!! <3

Last Song: Gosh, whatever was on the classical music station the last time I was in the car? That would have been yesterday in the early afternoon, so I’m willing to bet it was something on Classical Guitar Alive.

Favorite Color: Even split between pink and purple. I love both of them so much.

Last Book: Last book that I completed was Changes from The Dresden Files by Jim Butcher. Last book I read anything from was You Don’t Own Me by Orly Lobel, which is about the Mattel vs MGA Entertainment lawsuit, aka Barbie vs Bratz.

Last Movie: Last movie that I watched all the way through was so long ago that I’m not sure I remember. It might have been on Christmas, which means it was The Last Unicorn. Last movie I watched any bit of was Sonic the Hedgehog, and I decided I wasn’t going to finish it before I hit the halfway point. (Though my sibling might convince me to jump to the end when Robotnik becomes more of a threat.)

Sweet/spicy/savory: Sweet. It’s undeniable. I also like sweet with spicy.

Relationship Status: Single Pringle

Last Thing I Googled: Images of the hotel where I like to stay when I go to Opera in the Ozarks because it looks like they have a room with a hot tub up on its own little platform and I kinda wanna stay in there.

Current Obsession: idk if it’s an obsession yet but I HAVE been spending a chunk of time watching Shakespeare and Hathaway: Private Investigators. It’s something nice to watch to give me my cozy mystery fix until Kanopy gets the next series of Father Brown.

Looking Forward To: Ok so Opera in the Ozarks is celebrating their 75th anniversary and there’s gonna be a big banquet and performance in the brand new theater and I literally had a dream about it last night. I’m so ready. I can’t wait to see a performance in a theater with actual air conditioning and not a retrofitted barn!

And tagging whoever wants to play!

Thank you @thesem for the tag! <3

Last Song: That's a really hard one to answer at Christmas. Honestly I've had the theme song from Santa Claus Conquers the Martians stuck in my head for three days now.

Favorite Color: Changes frequently, but I like purple and deep greens!

Last Book: Joy in the Morning by PG Wodehouse

Last Movie: The Alistair Sim 'Scrooge' - which is my absolute favourtie Christmas Carol adaptation

Last TV Show: All Creatures Great and Small (the new one)

Sweet/spicy/savory: Sweet, alas.

Relationship Status: giant snowman pattern minecraft

Last Thing I Googled: giant snowman pattern minecraft

Current Obsession: I've kind of got two at the moment that I guess are linked? I've been trying to read/watch my way through the complete works of Shakespeare, and I've been researching the backstage side of how theatres work and theatre history, ostensibly for a future project.

Looking Forward To: My game The Beekeeper's Picnic is coming out in a few months! I have so much work left to do on it, but I'm also excited about entering the final stretch!

I will tag @fruitviking, @jeremys-come-to-bed-eyes @sandygarnelle @geeoharee and anyone else who would like to do it <3

[necrodette]

TomeWeave art by the absolutely incredible @nikoadmeliora! Go check out their art!

While I'm currently working on the fanfiction of Odette's story pre-BG3 (which leads into the game's events), I had some brainworms that I wanted to sprinkle to my fellow Galemancers out there.

Brace thyselves for a very long, very random assortment of lore and romance between my Tav, Odette Tavelyen, and Gale Dekarios (lovingly referred to as TomeWeave).

Spoilers & personal headcanons for BG3 romance with Gale below!

◇ While Odette was attracted to Gale initially, she misunderstood his attempts to prove his worth/value to the party as him being another pompous wizard, and worried that he may be too fond of his own voice without the true mastery of the Weave to validate his claims (since his magic was a bit unpredictable at times with the orb acting up).

◇ Due to this ignorant misconception, Odette was sometimes annoyed by Gale's remarks (like when he's publicly describing his previous relationship with Mystra or when he's unintentionally, overly thorough in explaining his magical prowess). She was never mean or cruel because that isn't in her nature, but she would certainly be on edge around him or would reply with a witty retort or two.

◇This changes during the Act 1 romance scene. In my headcanon, it happens the night that the party frees the Emerald Grove, and there is a celebration in camp all night. After Odette gives an awkward speech to the group (she's a librarian, not accustomed to being the motivational hero of the day) and makes her rounds through the party, Gale gives her a gift: one of a pair of identical blue journals (picked up from the vendor in the Grove). Gale and Odette bespell the journals to communicate with one another, channeling their magics together and connecting through the Weave. It is intimate, honest, unsuspecting. She feels the warmth of his affections for her and she realizes that she had been misjudging his actions.

And yes, the other party members will write in the journals from time to time, and yesssss I spent too much time picking handwriting style fonts for every party member

◇ Before Gale reveals his surname in Act 3, Odette makes a game out of trying to guess it. She'll think of some random noble family or one she'd guessed based on historical names in the region and ask him - sometimes in the most inopportune of times, such as mid-combat or when they're trying to go to sleep.

◇ Odette actually met Tara well before Act 3. She didn't understand the connection to Gale at the time and wouldn't for a while, but...this requires context, so bear with me:

◇ As an Avowed Adjutant in Candlekeep Library (pre-BG3 game events), Odette was often working with Seekers of knowledge who came to the library offering their price of admission: an original work that doesn't already exist within Candlekeep's walls. If their submitted work was not accepted, they could not gain entry within the library and would be turned away.

◇ For years, Gale had requested entry to Candlekeep through submissions of his own poetry and journals, thinking that his experiences as Mystra's Chosen would elevate his works and would certainly be accepted. But they weren't, because works of Elminster's personal accounts already existed in the library that were too similar to Gale's, and so Gale was turned away multiple times (mostly via letters, since it is quite the long trip from Waterdeep to Candlekeep).

◇ But after he was cast out of Mystra's favor and corrupted by the Netherese Orb, Tara took matters into her own paws. She was determined to find a solution to Gale's predicament with the orb, so she took a collection of the recent works he'd made in his grief and regret - mournful musings of a man utterly abandoned by his former lover, his goddess, and the knowledge of his impending doom as penalty for his hubris. Finally, his (unknowing) acceptance to the library (through Tara) was obtained.

◇ It's a temporary acceptance into the library (five days instead of the normal tenday) by offering Gale's journals anonymously and also with the condition that the original work could not be submitted: the Scribes of Candlekeep would need to copy the journals contents while she was there, but had to take it back with her. This condition was accepted!

◇ Odette was elected to assist Tara with her research, which included many sleepless nights of intense research and several early morning teas together. During the five days that Tara was allowed entry, Tara only ever referred to Gale as her esteemed friend or dearest colleague, so Odette never knew who Gale was before meeting him post-tadpoling.

◇ And it was during Tara's last day that she discovered how to temporarily appease the orb via intermittent Weave consumption. She hurriedly said her goodbyes and left the library to tend to personal matters. Odette was a little sad to see her go as Tara's company was quite comfortable and very entertaining.

◇ In Act 1, when Gale (gets on one knee like a gentlemen omg??) opens his mind to Odette to show her truth about the Netherese Orb in his chest, she realizes that the "cat" he's mistakenly mentioned (he's also said 'tressym' before, too, so Odette actually spends a while thinking he had both) before must have been Tara.

◇ Odette doesn't tell him that she knew out of fear that he would be upset that Tara had taken his most personal thoughts and feelings (in the journals she used to gain entry to the library) without his consent (plus, it helped him in the end anyway, right?) And, as a follower of Deneir, once she's confided in, she is sworn to uphold the secrecy to avoid her God's wrath.

◇ So in Act 3, when the party happens upon Tara on the roof of the Temple of Ilmater, not only does Tara already know and has a warm relationship with her, but she also makes Odette lose "the game" of guessing Gale's surname!