#wip but I’m. never finishing it so it’s done actually

[gayson-voorhees]

This one isn’t going in the main tag I have class and decorum. but afraid to say I’m back on my bullshit

[justapassingstranger]

I posted my first(!!! published!) fic a few weeks ago. And like. It’s obviously not gone massive, I didn’t expect it to.

But like.

It’s gotten almost a thousand hits. It’s gotten almost 40 kudos and 13 bookmarks and like, that’s a lot of people who have read and liked my silly little fic!

And I dunno. I just think it’s real neat that a thing I made up in my brain can be entertaining and beamed directly into these readers heads

[mour-png]

so y’know how i said i was gonna draw more khan well i did but i ran out of steam to finish it so instead of throwing it away im just gonnaa.. slap it up here as a WIP that will most likely never actually be finished.

I had so many good ideas for this which is so annoying- like look the lil sticker on the railgun the idea was it was Uzi’s railgun he’s got. An the boombox I was gonna edit some music over the picture - an i was thinking about putting some console text on his big blank face screen but it kinda looks interesting totally blank as well 🤔 anyway oh well thought y’all might like to see what i did get done anyway

I’m pivoting a bit for the next while on more oc based content pls dont leave my siren characters are soooo cool u guys and i’m getting ready for artfight it’ll be exciting don’t worry

[hanasnx]

WITHHOLDING SEX — logan howlett.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: unfinished wip that im never gonna finish. WARNINGS: unfinished wip ノ fem reader ノ stripper reader ノ age gap ノ established relationship ノ size difference ノ logan gets smacked for saying some dumb shit ノ degradation ノ outdated and lame anti-sex work rhetoric ノ toxic behavior

“You’re such a jerk, Logan.” you used to say, a little giggle to your voice as you scoldingly pat LOGAN HOWLETT’s broad chest, letting him back you into a dark corner at your club and buy a personal dance. He’d wave that fat wad of cash in front of your nose with that knowing look you’d come to crave, and you’d flirtingly comply. You’d even let him get cheeky with it, copping a feel up your thigh while in the privacy of a backroom. Just so you’d bat his callused hand away with a toying, “Ah-ah!” And he’d tilt his big head at you and push out his hips while you finished up your dance.

Months of playing with one another, led to his impatience getting the better of him. Late at night, asking you—a stripper—what you were doing later. He’s got this way about him that you watch so carefully. All he had to do was stare at you through those furrowed brows and jut his chin when he popped the question, and you obediently blurted out, “Maybe if you’re lucky: you.”

Much to your surprise, it wasn’t some one night stand. Booty calls turned to dates, turned to moving in together, turned to partnership. Not that you believe yourself to be a challenge, but you’ve never met a guy that could seduce you at your job, and you certainly never expected to shack up with him. Logan made it easy at first, always forward with you, putting up with your “diva attitude” as he likes to call it, driving you to and from work because he doesn’t trust the clients that hang out around the building when girls are just trying to get home. You fell hard, and you fell fast.

But lately, things have been different. Logan’s always been bull-headed—and a bit of a pig—but it never seemed to be as big of a problem as it is now. As much as you can love those traits of his, they get in the way of communication, and your own spite and stubbornness doesn’t soothe anything. You fight more than ever, you argue more than you have actual conversations. If you’re not fighting, you’re not talking, and he’s sleeping on the couch. Butting heads is not new, but now they’re not as easily solved without the shade of rose-colored glasses.

“Nah, baby, ‘cause a stripper like you was easy.” The prideful and malicious words struck you right to your core, whirling around to face Logan who’d been hounding after you. It’s written all over his firm countenance, he said it to hurt you, and he knew it succeeded—from the very first petname spat so facetiously. Your hand flies before you realize what’s happening, whipping across his cheek so hard it resounds throughout the room. It was a stupid move, ache pulsing hot through your palm from the contact, and chances are it’s worse for you than him.

Your voice burns from this latest yelling match, and you exacerbate it. “You’re such a jerk, Logan!” The dumbfounded part in his lips close as he pivots his spun head to meet your gaze. You’re not gonna sit here and entertain this any longer, you’re gonna be late for work, so you round his wide frame to hurry to the door. “Let’s see how easy you think I am.” you challenge, throwing open the door, “Good luck getting off without me.” you spit at him before slamming the door after you.

“That’s it, I’m so done with him—for real this time.” you claim, yapping the ear off your coworker at the lockers while you two get dressed.

“Oh, yeah, right.” she replies with a roll of her eyes, zipping up her boot. “Next week y’all are gonna be back together, attached at the fuckin’ hip. Who’re you kidding?” She stamps her foot down, and gives herself last looks in the vanity mirror, teasing her hair with her hands.

You throw down your needle and floss, halting your sew of a hole in your costume. “Shut up, it’s not like that!” you whine, annoyed by her prediction—more or less accurate.

She snickers. “See you out there.” she tells you, effectively dismissing the conversation as she makes her way out onto the floor. Somehow, her reaction only fans the flames of your spiteful commitment…. but even though the hurt is still fresh, you miss him.

It’s frigid in the AM, hugging your jacket close as you watch your breath steam in front of your face. The bouncer didn’t think to watch your walk to the car this time, knowing that your boyfriend usually picks you up. You forgot to tell him otherwise, but it’s not a big deal—until you remember you took your car this time and the heater is broken. You’ve taken three steps out the door and you’re already shivering, what are you gonna do when your brittle fingers can’t grip the wheel?

“Hey.” a rough and familiar voice breaks you out of your internal debacle, facing the noise promptly. Logan wearing his usual scowl and puffy vest—somehow he looks good. The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up to reveal the cords of his forearms crossed across his chest, tailbone leaned against his truck. “C’mon.” He tilts his head in the direction of his vehicle. In one small second, you’re endeared by his gesture, he knew you were gonna be cold and a little unsafe—even through being angry he’d do this for you. In the next second, the warm feeling is quickly crushed under the weight of knowing Logan. This isn’t some knight-in-shining-armor moment. This is his apology.

You stick your frozen nose in the air, “No, thanks.” you respond. There’s no way you’re going to let him off the hook that easily. Back on your path to your car, you huddle into yourself to converse heat, but you still hear footsteps on gravel behind you.

“Don’t be like that, princess, I know you’re freezing.” he says. He only calls you that when you’re being especially prissy. “I know you didn’t mean what you said back there, so let’s just go home and I’ll hook and tow your car in the morning.” The impending presence of a palm against your upper arm alerts you and you flinch out of the way.

“I’m not getting into the truck with you, Logan, I’m mad at you.” you hiss. Your persistence is annoying, and if you were less wrathful Logan might’ve thrown you over his shoulder by this point. Something tells him this isn’t like other times.

His hand lingers in the air aside your sleeve, but draws back when he straightens to his full height behind you. “So you’d rather catch fuckin’ pneumonia than be within three feet of me?” his disbelief is deduced clearly in his tone, conveying how stupid he thinks you’re being.

So you double down, shrugging indifferently as you cross your arms over your chest. “If that’s what it comes down to.”

“Jesus, you’re a stubborn bitch.”

You round on him. “Logan!”

He inclines in your space, raising his voice as he gestures in front of him, organizing his verbal thoughts, “First, you tell me some bullshit about no pussy, and now you don’t even wanna be near me—“

You’re incredulous, matching his energy as you lift onto the tips of your toes to compete with him. “—Why would I wanna go anywhere with you when you’re being the biggest asshole—“

“—and it’s not like you can keep up with that shit. You’ll last a day- and that’s generous—!”

“—A day? You think I’ll last a day—?” You have the urge to laugh, a dry hollow sound.

“Face it, you can’t go a night without me.”

Obviously, you’re not getting anywhere and you’re tired. Defeated, you shake your head and turn on your heel. You’re beyond cold, and you say loud enough for him to hear, “Get outta here, Logan, I don’t wanna see you when I get home.”

He shift his weight to one hip, raising his arms out at his sides in a questioning pose. “Oh, and where am I supposed to go? Huh? Where am I supposed to go?” he interrogates after your retreating form, angry at your reaction, at the fact you’re walking away from him, the idea he’s not going to be in a warm bed with a warm body to comfort him to sleep tonight.

It’s his own fault. “I don’t care where you go! I’m not letting you in.” you reply with a shake of your head.

[melanchol1cs]

CHERRY FLAVORED

childhood friend!leon x reader

wc: 1.6k summary: sweet and sour motivation, wish i could keep concentration. masterlist | taglist | wips

no warnings. just alot of angst, mentions of marriage, cheating/infidelity, kissing. based on ‘cherry flavored’ by the neighborhood.

a/n: daddy’s home ;) super happy to be back, missed you guys so much mwaa! so i was actually working on this piece before i decided to take a break and i’m super happy i finally finished. but be warned, this doesn’t make any sense and i strongly encourage you to ignore the grammatical errors and my horrible writing. p.s. i swear the next part of ltts is almost done, just need to fix a few things and proofread (yes, this is for u @lottiies)

he had always liked cherries.

ever since you we’re kids, he would go out of his way just for those silly fruits.

you used to tease him about how much he loved them, but deep down, you enjoyed his enthusiasm too. he claims to remember how cherries were your favorite too, which is why he'd share his stash with you, and you'd pretend to savor each bite, even though they always made your face scrunch up in an exaggerated grimace.

you never really liked cherries. you found them too sticky, too sweet, but you had always made an effort for his sake.

the sticky fingers and cherry pits were all worth it though, just to see that slight, knowing smile on your face when you humored him. those small, secret moments were like little treasures he'd collect in his heart, each one more precious than the last.

he remembered the times when they'd steal a few from the farmer's market, giggling as the juice stained your fingers and lips. now, as adults, the habit remained. sometimes, on late summer mornings like these, he'd swing by your place with a bag of fresh cherries, a nostalgic smile on his face.

"hey," he'd say softly, as you opened the door to greet him, the sunlight catching the wisps of hair escaping your bun.

"thought you might like these. still got a sweet tooth, right?" he'd hand over the bag, watching as your expression transform from a sleepy haze to something short of appreciation.

“leon,” you rub your eyes begrudgingly, stepping aside as to let him in. “it’s like.. six in the morning. you can’t keep doing this,”

“i know, i know,” he chuckled, stepping into the dimly lit foyer, the overpowering scent of the fruit carrying over to you. "sorry, couldn’t help myself," he said with a shrug, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "old habits die hard, you know." he set the bag of cherries down on the entry table, the red fruit seeming to glow in the morning light that filtered through the front window.

“no, seriously.” you deflect, hands on your hips.

“you’re getting married next month, leon.”

he winced at the reminder, his free hand raking through his hair. "i know," he sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly.

his smile faltered slightly, the corners of his mouth dipping into a small, regretful frown. the cheerfulness draining from his features like water down a drain.

"can't wait." he forced a smile, but you were certain it looked more like grimace. "ada’s been planning everything for months... i’m just along for the ride at this point." he laughs awkwardly, trying to deflect the underlying tension in the air. but he trailed off, unsure of what to say next, the words sticking in his throat like a cherry pit.

he swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. his eyes dart away from yours, unable to hold your gaze any longer. he fidgets with the strap of his bag, his knuckles turning white from the pressure.

“okay,” you try to ease the awkwardness. “do you.. wanna go sit on the porch? i can make us coffees,”

a small, relieved smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he looks up at you, some of the tension dissipating from his frame. "coffee sounds great, thanks,"

he follows you to the kitchen, the silence between you thickening like a dense fog that clung to the trees outside. he’s perched on one of the bar stools, his long legs stretching out before him as he watched you move around the kitchen with practiced ease. the morning light highlighted the subtle lines of fatigue around your eyes, the tiny creases on your forehead, your shoulders hunched slightly in a gesture of quiet contemplation.

you hand him a steaming cup of coffee, the warmth of it seeping into your palms as you slid it across the counter. he took a sip, the flavor both bitter and sweet on his tongue. a small, contented sigh escaped him, his eyes closing briefly in appreciation.

“c’mon,” you tilt your head towards the door, and he’s quick to follow behind.

the morning air is crisp against his skin as he stepped outside, the chill of it seeping into his bones. he followed you to the porch steps, its wooden planks worn smooth with years of use. the world seemed to come alive in the golden glow of dawn, the leaves rustling in the gentle breeze and the smell of petrichor carried by the wind.

he sat down beside you, the cool wood biting into his thighs as he shifted to get comfortable. you were quiet for a moment, the only sound being the soft crunch of cherries as he munched on the fruit. his fingers stained a deep red from the juice, the color matching the rosy hue of your cheeks in the soft morning light.

"i— i know i shouldn't keep doing this, i'm not supposed to still have feelings for you." his words trailed off, lost in the gentle lapping of the breeze against the porch railing.

he took a deep breath, steeling himself. "but i do." he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. "i always have. and i probably always will,”

“leon,”

"you're still my best friend, you know? my person." he let out a short laugh, the sound a little shaky. “and—“

“leon.” you know what’s about to come next, and you don’t know if you can handle it.

“i love you.”

“i know.”

“i…” he lets out a strangled laugh, the bitterness of it written plainly across his features. “i’m sorry, don’t know why i’m like this,” he bowed his head, his elbows resting on his knees as he buried his face in his hands, his long fingers tangling in his hair. “i’m awful.”

“yeah,” you scoff, offering a pitiful smile. “yeah, you are.”

he laughed mirthlessly at your words, the sound raw and broken. “i know." he shook his head, his hair swishing against his wrists.

"never thought i was good for you, ‘ts why i stayed away for so long." he laughs bitterly, the sound hollow and empty. "i thought i could move on, forget about you.” he breathes, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his own inadequacies.

he turned to you, his eyes, normally a bright, warm blue, were dark and heavy-lidded, the rims a deep shade of red. "please," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rustling of the leaves. "just one kiss. for the sake of what we could've been."

"please?” he repeated, his hands dropping to his knees, fingers curling like he wanted to crawl towards you and envelop you in his arms. your shoulders form something short of a shrug, your mouth dry, unable to respond.

he leaned in, hands coming to cup your cheeks, eyes closed, his lips pressed against yours in a soft, chaste press of mouth to mouth. he lingered for a moment, every fiber of his being silently begging you to reciprocate, praying that you'd meet him half way, that you'd kiss him back.

and for a moment, you really do think of doing so, to kiss back and feel him as more than a friend one last time. but you didn't. your lips were cold and unresponsive under his, your body stiff and unyielding. he taste of cherries and bitter regret that eventually seeps into your very core.

the warmth of his breath ghosted against your lips, lingering, yearning. he didn't move away, didn't pull back, just held himself there, suspended in the moment of his foolish hope. after what felt like an eternity, he broke the contact, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours.

"okay," he whispered, his voice small and defeated. "okay, i get it." he pulled back, sitting up straight and wiping his lips with the back of his hand, the ghost of your lips lingering there. "i shouldn't have..." he trailed off, unable to bring himself to finish the sentence.

“know what, i think i should go,” he stood up, his movements stiff and jerky, like a puppet with its strings cut.

“you should,” you swallow.

he nodded, not trusting himself to speak. his eyes downcast, feet shifting nervously on the porch steps. "yeah," he mumbles, voice barely audible. "yeah, probably for the best." he picks up his bag and turns to leave, but hesitates, his hand on the railing. he spares you one last glance, his eyes a deep, aching blue. you look down, not being able to bear the weight of his gaze.

he’s out of sight the next time you look back up.

he doesn’t call or text after that, his visits become infrequent, until he they stop completely.

the world didn't slow down for you, nor did it wait for your heart to catch up. everything seemed to keep spinning, the sun rising and setting, the seasons changing, though your feelings remained stagnant. you tell yourself its for the best, that moving on is inevitable. reality is cruel that way — it never delivers on the promises of our fantasies.

eventually, you’ll start to miss him a little less, the hollow ache in your chest slowly starting to dull. life will move on, and so will you.

though the thought of him would still occasionally cross your mind, it no longer feels like a stab to the chest, but a nostalgic memory from a bygone era. something that could’ve been.

maybe you did like cherries after all.

tags: @crowleyco

[muffinpink02]

I don’t want to rush you at all! But I’m so excited for she’s a bully on your WIPs, throwback pics of Alexia in her brunette era…

I was too, but I'v kind of falling out of love with it. I think cos I'm worried about the age thing, its school but their 18, can you guys let me know? I can make it college. This is the only thing I've written for it, so if I never get round to it you can at least have this. Also I made her blonde, but as its younger her I can change it to brunette for the future, if I ever finish it.

Smut 18

You rush down the empty hallway, you can’t believe you’ve actually been given detention. You never got detention.

It wasn’t even your fault! But of course Mrs Green didn’t want to hear your reasoning, she saw what she thought she saw, not caring about the story behind it. You never did feel like she liked you much. 

You passed the grey lockers, eyeing the banners for the upcoming school dance, not that you cared, you won’t be going anyways. You’ll say it’s out of protest but really no one will ask you.

You quickly race down the creaky stairs, finally on the floor of the detention room. It’s weird for you to be here, especially when it's empty, this side of the school always gave you the creeps. Maybe because it was the older section, the hallways were smaller, the paint was peeling off the walls, even the smell was weird. 

You glance at your watch, luckily you’re not late, Mrs Green would have had a field day with doubling the already 20 minute detention. You’re about to turn the corner when you hear a faint cry.

You stop dead in your tracks, what was that? You take a second to listen, but there’s nothing. It's silent. You shake your head, you must be hearing things. You go to continue your journey. Wait! There it is again! You stand still, listening carefully, the crying sound continues, it’s definitely a girl. 

The cry gets louder as you look around the corridor of rooms, then you hear it again, it starts to sound more like a moan. It sounds weird, you hear it again, it sounds like someone’s crying but it’s muffled and sounds, well, it sounds like sex.

“No fucking way.” You whisper to yourself. 

You take another look around the empty corridor as your curiosity takes over, you find yourself tiptoeing towards the sound, not really thinking about what you're doing. The sounds of crying definitely aren’t what you thought, it's a mess of moaning and panting, the cries turn into whimpers, just from the sound alone you feel your face heating up. 

You take a peek through the small glass window, you can see a girl on her back on the desk, her long dark hair hanging off the side. Your eyes pop open. Her legs are open, you can see someone’s kneeling between them, clearly eating her out. It sends a jolt to your clit. You’ve completely forgotten about your detention. You can see someone’s between her legs but you can’t see either of their faces.

You feel bad watching but you can’t bring your eyes away. It’s when the dark-haired girl moves her head, you realise It’s Stacey, the girl who makes every day a misery for you. Suddenly the whole scene makes you uncomfortable and not at all hot. She’s probably being fucked by one of the rugby boys, at least he’s breaking the stereotypes and is actually eating her out.

That’s until you see a blonde ponytail, it’s not a boy, it’s a girl eating her out. Your jaw drops open, you watch as the blonde's head is bobbing up and down, Stacey’s hand clutches to her hair. You feel a wave rush to your core, your heart starts to race a little.

“Fuck, Ale.”

What? Surely not?

Then you see her, Alexia’s head rises from between her legs, you can see her face is wet. You’re glued to your feet as you watch Alexia wipe her mouth with the back of her hand like she’s done this a thousand times, you almost forget you’re not watching a porn video but two real people. You can feel your own breathing getting heavy as you watch on, your knickers are becoming slightly wet.

But you can’t look away, though you should have. Hazel eyes catch your own. You feel your heart catch in your throat, you want to move but you can’t, and Alexia doesn’t show any signs of stopping.

Fuck.

The girl is staring right at you, you need to leave, you should stop but you can’t It’s like she has a spell on you.

Stacey moans, unhappy Alexia's stopped. The blonde doesn’t even glance at the girl she’s pleasuring, her eyes are on you as she brings her fingers to Stacey and plunges her fingers deep inside the girl. Stacey lets out a deep moan, her back arches off the table. You would be shocked at the sheer lack of care they have, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Alexia sends you a smirk as her fingers start to push in and out of Stacey. Your eyes are still on each other, you can feel your hands getting clammy. The girl moans are getting louder, Alexia finally glances at her. She grabs Stacies tie and pushes it into her mouth, making the girl muffle her moans. Alexia brings her eyes back to you, she smirks again as she lowers her head back between the girl's legs all while her eyes are on you.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 2

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

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

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

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: we're here to boo Andrew.

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

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“So, you’re coming?” Jacob’s voice quavers with excitement. You can’t imagine how he’d sound if you said no. You hate letting people down, it seems to be all you've ever done.

“Uh, yeah,” you say as you steer around the track; opting for some MarioKart over Minecraft that night, “boss says it’s no problem to get the days off. Just have to make it up after. Is... Is everything still good on your end?” 

“Oh yeah, sure thing,” he assures buoyantly, “I can’t wait. Did you still wanna split the airBnB?” 

“Actually, I got a place to stay for the night then I’ll take the early bus back,” you explain as Princess Peach knocks you off the track, “argh!” 

“Right, that’s good,” he says, “good to know you won’t be stranded out there.” 

“Mhm,” you use your boost to catch up to Peach and get your revenge. You don’t mention that Kara will be with you at the con. You just want to be sure this isn’t something wonky. “It’ll be nice to get out of town. My grandma will probably be happy to have the place to herself.” 

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “what’s her problem anyway?” 

“Just the way she is. She likes her space,” you shrug, “I don’t know, I don’t think she expected to be raising her granddaughter...” 

“Ah, yeah, I guess that would be stressful,” he says, “still, seems like you’re not too bad to be around. Got a job, go to school, all that. Think my dad would love it if I put in half as much effort.” 

“Yeah? You make him sound like a hard ass.” 

“Can be. Lawyer, so kinda his schtick,” he chuckles. 

“Oo, fancy,” you snort. Maybe if either of your parents had been lawyers, you wouldn’t be living off your grandma’s resent.  

“I guess. Never really see him that much...” he grumbles. 

“Hm, well, no winning, is there?” You mutter. 

“Not really,” he sighs and hisses, “ugh, Toad!” 

You chuckle and cross the finish line. A respectable second. You wait for him to finish and stifle a yawn. 

“Tired?” He asks. 

“Little.” 

“Me too, long day,” he groans, “neck’s killing me.” 

“Oh, what’d you do--” 

“You know, I’m-- an idiot. Was messing around on my bike.” 

“Of course,” you snicker, “well, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna sign off. I don’t wanna keep my grandma up and my head’s starting to go.” 

“Sure, I gotta get up early anyway,” he sounds less than enthused. “Good night.” 

“You too.” 

“Tomorrow?” 

“Can’t, work. Day after?” 

“Okay, I’ll make it work,” he confirms, “I’m excited about meeting up. Aren’t you?” 

“Yep,” you try not to show your doubt. You’re still not really sure about everything. 

“Can’t wait,” he rasps and the silt in his tone makes you shiver. 

“Yeah, er, bye then,” you hit end session and take off your headset, your ears tender and a bit sweaty. Even if it is awkward, at least you’ll get to hang with Kara for a bit. You haven’t seen her since grad. 

🎮

You’re already exhausted and you’re not even inside yet. The line for the convention is bustling and your excitement keeps you going as you and Kara gab away and move with the slow crawl. The sun beams down and has you sweating, though you could easily blame that on your nerves too. 

“So, this Jacob... is he cute?” She winks. 

“Kara,” you roll your eyes, “it’s not like that. Really. We just game.” 

“Oh yeah. But do you want it to be more?” She teases. 

“You know I’m not really into all that. I don’t have room for a boyfriend in my life.” 

“So boring. Never change, girlie,” she nudges you playfully. “But really, that’s smart. Calvin is too much. I’m thinking of cutting him loose.” 

“Again?” You squint. 

“Not my fault he keeps coming back,” she giggles. 

You peer around, searching out a familiar face amid the ocean of strangers. You haven’t seen Jacob yet. You’re almost hoping he doesn’t show up. Then again, why wouldn’t he? He paid for you to be here. The reminder of the fact strikes guilt in your chest. 

You pause as your eyes catch another pair, further back in the queue. An older man with a beard. He stands out among the crowd. He wears a tidy button-up where most wear graphic tees or cosplay attire. He stares for a moment before he turns away and looks down, probably at whatever kid dragged him there. 

“Well, what are you going to do if he sees you and falls in love?” Kara asks. 

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes. 

“If he’s a nerd like you, how could he not?” 

“Hey,” you frown. 

“What? You’re like the sexy gamer girl type. Isn’t that what dudes want?” She shrugs. “Let me see his pic again. He’s a skinny little thing. He’d definitely be into you.” 

“Urgh, stop,” you cross your arms. 

“Sorry, I’m only playing. You just seem so nervous, I’m trying to loosen you up.” 

“I know,” you puff, “it’s just... I should’ve just said no. This is stupid. I don’t know why I even agreed.” 

“To get out of that shithole,” she snips. “Why do you think I hauled ass the minute I popped by grad cap on?” 

“Mm, yeah, I just hope... do you think he really wants that? Maybe I gave him the wrong idea. Oh, Kar, I really didn’t mean to lead him on.” 

“No, no, I’m sure it’s nothing you did if he does. I mean, he’s probably a virgin so...” 

“That’s mean,” you pout. 

“What, so are you,” she laughs. 

“Exactly,” you shake your head and drop your arms, a buzz jittering your skirt pocket.  

You look down at yourself as you slide your phone free. That was probably a bold choice but it’s so damn hot out. Besides, your Pikachu tee is loose enough to counteract the denim sheath. You turn the screen up, shading it with your hand as you read. 

‘Sorry, not going to make it. Something came up. 🙁' 

You frown and reread the message. Really? You came all the way here, took time off of work, and he’s flaking? 

“What’s up?” Kara asks as she clicks her manicured nails impatiently and stands on her toes, trying to see past the bodies ahead. 

“He just cancelled,” you mutter and type in your reply. 

‘Oh no. Hope it’s nothing bad. Maybe another time.’ 

You hit send and drop your shoulders. You’re surprised how disappointed you are. More so about the wasted effort than anything. Even if you are a bit relieved, it’s shitty. 

“Ah, bullshit!” Kara sneers, “what the hell? What did he say?” She reaches for your phone and you hold it out of her grasp. “That fucker.” 

“It’s probably not his fault. Shit happens.” 

“Babe, you’re gonna settle for a lot of nonsense if you keep that attitude. I’d be friggin pissed if I was you. He brings you all the way here and now he’s too good for you. I bet he saw some cute girl in line and she smiled at him once so now he’s ditching,” she scowls, “I hate boys.” 

“I’m sure... it’s nothing,” you say glumly as your phone vibes again. 

‘I’m real sorry. I hope you still have a good time. Take lots of pictures.’ 

You don’t respond. You lock your phone and put it back in your pocket. It never feels good to be stood up. Even then. 

“You know what, screw him,” Kara snarls, “let’s go in there and buy you the cutest plushie you can find. Hell, maybe you can find an even cuter guy.” 

“Kar,” you warn her. 

“Fine, just the plushie. Maybe two,” she trills, “forget that loser.” 

🎮

The chaos of the convention wipes away the dark cloud over you. You’re almost thankful that Jacob gave you the opportunity to catch up with Kara. You didn’t realise how much you missed her. It’s perfect day where you can forget about your grandmother and your lame job and everything else. 

You rush around from booth to booth. You look at fanart, handmade figures, and stuffies. You’re mindful of your wallet and how empty it really is. You’ll get one thing and a snack. That’s all you can afford.  

As the hours roll by, your early morning bus ride and time spent standing out in the hot sun catch up to you. You feel your muscles starting to ache and your eyelids turning fuzzy. You yawn as you shuffle behind Kara as she waits in line to get a signature from the one D-list celeb she’s heard of. You’d get one too but it’s way too expensive. 

“Hey,” you rub your cheek, “mind if I sit and wait? I wanna grab a soft pretzel anyway.” 

“Sure,” she agrees easily, “looks like it’s gonna be a while.” 

“Want me to bring you a drink or something?” You offer. 

“Nah, just text me where you are so I can find you,” she says. 

You leave her reluctantly. You’d rather not be wandering alone through the hordes but your feet are killing you and your stomach’s been roaring for the last hour. You stand in line for the pretzel stall and get yours with cinnamon sugar and syrup. Messy but delicious. 

You find a table in the corner and settle in. You put your phone beside the napkin and tear apart the doughy goodness. Your phone lights up with a notification from the merge game you like to play and you see several other icons; missed messages. 

You focus on your snack, savouring each bite, as your eyes drift around the crowded centre. You can barely see some of the booths as hordes cluster around. Some cosplayers bat at each other with toy swords as children fight over the arcade machines. You’re overwhelmed by the sheer amount of activity all around. 

You put your head down trying to block out the lights and noise. You feel yourself getting overstimulated. It’s like when you’re in the lecture hall and suddenly you can hear every sniff, sneeze, and keystroke. You close your eyes as you wipe your fingertips on the edge of the napkin, only half-finished your pretzel. 

“Looks good,” a deep voice cuts through the blaring din. 

As you recognise the timbre, your heart squeezes and the world pinpoints at the centre of your skull. You open your eyes and slowly raise your head. You blink dumbly at the unfamiliar man stood in front of you. You think you’ve seen him before, or at least he sticks out from the typical convention attendee. 

It isn’t that he’s too old, there’s lots of older geeks hanging around but they have neckbeards and greasy combovers. His hair is tidy and his beard trimmed close. His clothing also lacks the typical Dorito dust or anime character. You remember, he was outside in the line. 

“Uh, hello?” You utter. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he says as he pulls out the chair across from you. He sits as your insides plunge. You know his voice. 

“Jacob?” You murmur in shock. How? Why? This isn’t the stringy teenager you met online. 

He nods, his jaw tensing, and he crosses an arm over the table, pointing to your half-eaten pretzel, “what’d you get on yours? I can’t decide between sweet or savoury.” 

“Who... are you?” You croak, head spinning as your eyes prick. You knew something was weird. You knew you weren’t talking to Jacob or whoever that boy was in the pictures. 

He takes a breath and lets it out slowly. As his chest deflates, you do too. He’s older than you, bigger than you, and by the looks of him, a lot better off. Why the hell would he be chatting with you? Why would he lie to you? 

“You’re right. I’m not Jacob,” he confesses, the colour draining from his face. He steeples his fingers and considers his next words carefully. You sit back and hug yourself defensively. This is fucked. “My name is Andy, Jacob is my son.” 

“Your son?” You eke out, “why-- why would you lie?” 

He cringes and takes another breath, “he was my son,” he corrects himself, “he... passed.” 

You feel like you’ve been struck. Your mouth falls open, stunned. Not only did he hide behind his son’s photos, but his dead son’s. Oh, god. You feel sick. No, you feel stupid. 

“Look, please, just hear me out. I just—it wasn’t meant to go on this long. When I first lied to you, it was supposed to be that one time. I was... I was lost. I just lost Jacob and I was going through his things. I started playing because I missed him. I wanted to feel like he was still there--” 

“No, no, you got on discord and you started talking to me. As him!” Your voice shakes and your eyes tinge. “That’s not just missing him.” 

“I know, you’re right. I lied but... I got lonely playing by myself so yes, I went onto that discord. You were nice. You didn’t call me a noob or whatever. And... and after work, looking forward to hearing your voice, it got me through a lot of pain. Being alone in that house after so long, I couldn’t cope--” 

“So you lied to me?” You stand and snatch your phone, nauseous to the core, “you manipulated me. How do you know—if you had just been you that I would’ve been any different? If you just wanted to play games, to be friends--” 

“I was scared--” 

“I don’t care if you were scared,” you hiss as you stomp forward. “You’re an adult.” 

He stands and blocks your path. You recoil, put off by his height. He’s a lot bigger on his feet. 

“Please, move or... I’ll scream,” you breathe. 

“You don’t have to do that. Just hear me out,” he pleads. 

“I don’t want to hear anything else from you, Jacob. Or Andy. Or whoever you really are,” you sneer, “move.” 

He shudders and hangs his head. He makes himself seem small as his shoulders round and he backs out of your way. You bite down and march past him.  

You need to get to a bathroom. Now. You’re going to spew up your guts. More important, you need to get yourself together before you go find Kara. She can’t know this happened. It’s too embarrassing. 

[yoonia]

— Dia’s tumblr wrapped 2024 

I know it’s super late for me to share this, but just as many would say, it’s better late than never. Thank you so much for the lovely people who tagged me to do this: @beomcoups, @shadowkoo, @kingofbodyrolls ♡

2024 started off smoothly…until it didn’t. The final quarter of the year has always been a hard time for me and it wasn’t that much different this year. As you can probably notice that I’ve been mostly absent ever since the end of October and I deeply apologise for that. I also regret not planning things properly and for not keeping up with my goals this year but that only means that I'll be dragging my WIP list towards the next year.

Thank you so much for everyone who has been there for me this year, and those of you who have stuck by me despite my inconsistencies. I really appreciate your presence on my blog, whether it’s through your likes and kudos, your reblogs, your comments and replies on my contents, and the kind words you sent me through my ask box. You guys have made it worthwhile for me to be here even after all these years, and I don’t think I can thank you enough for that. Here’s to mark the end of our wild journey through 2024 and enter the new year of 2025. 

OVERALL FIC STATS 2024

Number of fics posted: 4 (four) one-shots, 2 (two) ongoing series, 3 (three) ficlets

Number of fics revamped: 2 (two) completed fics, 2 (two) ongoing series

Number of words written: 448,057 words (dang, no wonder I felt so burned out lol)

Number of fics in progress: 32 (oh, boy…) 

FIRST FIC OF 2024

❥ A Christmas Fix 01 & 02 —  posted Jan 31st & Feb 1st | 1,926 & 1,226 notes

My thoughts: This was…quite a journey. It’s been a while since I wrote a rom-com story and I was pleased to have been given the chance to write this idea through a collab. The final outcome wasn’t too disappointing either, since I enjoyed writing it and reading it afterwards. I’m glad everyone loved this story as well.

MOST POPULAR FIC OF 2024

❥ The Stand-In (Revamped version) — posted Aug 13th | 4,267 notes

My thoughts: Okay, yeah…I cheated a little. But to be fair, this fic did get a lot of notes this year before and after the revamping process. I loved this story so much that I felt like it deserved a major makeover and I’m glad I managed to do it this year.

LONGEST FIC OF 2024

❥ The Bedroom Hymns — series, ongoing, last updated Sept 9th | 50k++ words | I’m too lazy to open each chapter to count the notes I’m so sorry lol

My thoughts: I know…I know, I need to update this one again. I had to take a break from this series because this fic literally became my main focus this year that a lot of my WIPs kept getting pushed back just so I could finish more of this. I had to stop at some point to finally set free my WIPs. I have to admit that I also lost my motivation to write this due to the lack of notes and responses that I got with each update no matter how much time I spent working on it (tacky, I know…but it is what it is). I still love and enjoy writing this, so more chapters are coming. I can see this fic becoming my main focus again in 2025 until I’m done with it.

LAST FIC OF 2024

❥ The Forsaken II: Tears of the Sea — posted Oct 24th | 712 notes

My thoughts: Holy hell…this fic. Who would’ve thought that I’d be revisiting siren!Taehyung this year after…3 years?? Thank you, whoever it was that sent this during my birthday event. I never expected to write a full fic for this to continue the original story and to answer a lot of your questions, but I’m glad I did! 

Honorable mention: 

❥ Our Imperfections — posted Oct 30th | 92 notes

My thoughts: This was the last thing I actually released before I dipped into the void but I couldn’t count this as a fic as this was considered a ficlet or, in a more common term, a drabble.

PERSONAL FAVOURITE FIC OF 2024

❥ Blooming Wallflowers — posted Sept 25th | 927 notes

My thoughts: I had one of those rare moments where I found myself enjoying the writing process of a story so much that things simply kept flowing until it became a full story. This one went twice the size planned (and commissioned) but I have no regrets. At all.

Honorable mention: 

❥ Maps (revamped version) — series, completed, posted Sept 6th, 7th, & 11th | 1,4k++ notes (again, I’m too lazy to open each chapter lol)

My thoughts: I initially planned to release something else for DPR Ian’s birthday this year. But then I started revamping the graphics for his old fics instead and decided to revamp the whole series while I had the chance. This one has always been my fave work that I wrote for Christian, so diving back into this to do a makeover and give it a major upgrade felt absolutely fulfilling. 

2024 SPECIAL EVENT

❥ 𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖆𝖉𝖊: yoonia’s 2024 birthday bash

My thoughts: Once again, I can’t thank you guys enough for joining this small event of mine. I promise that I’ll have another event in 2025 so please stay tuned! (see you in March!) 

Fave reads of 2024

I have to admit that I haven’t been doing a lot of fic reading this year. But I’m happy that I got to dive back into reading some fanfics during my birthday event and found some lovely gems that I truly enjoyed

The Taste of Sin by @shadowkoo

Vignette: Duty by @cybrsan

The Athlete by @beomcoups

A Lover's Redemption by @writtenwhalien

Dandelion by @shina913

The Wood by @sailoryooons

Minted by @kithtaehyung

Mr. & Mrs. Yoon by @monamipencil

On The Ropes by @raplinesmoon

Top Ten Tracks of 2024

Loved — B.I

People — Agust D

Make You Mine — Black Violet

Gemini — Cheyenne 

Close To Me — Mamie, Eloy, Trippy Bass

HUH?! — Agust D feat. J-hope

Love — Lana Del Rey 

Reasons — COTIS 

Watch Me Burn — Michelle Morrone 

Die First — Nessa Barrett  

GOALS FOR 2025

Write more. Tackle more WIPs each month. 

Finally finish my old abandoned WIPs (About Time, Blood Moon Rising and the Shifters Series, Chance Encounter) 

Finish writing and officially release my original stories/novel as a web-series

Try to do better with planning and scheduling and keeping up with them

Finish revamping Carousel and release the novel version on Ream

Read more. Both published books and released fics

Focus more on my personal health, mental and physical 

Start job hunting again

I know I’m late for this, so I’m passing this over to the writers who are tagged on the list above (if you haven’t done this yet) and also tagging a few who come across my mind right now (only if you want to!): @ressjeon @lo1k-diamonds @pars-ley @minisugakoobies @inkedtae

And also tagging randomly anyone who feels inspired to create their own tumblr wrapped! 

[suzukiblu]

"Tim Drake has no chill and he will be making that fact everyone else's problem" won the genre poll the other day, so here's a WIP excerpt from "baby clone and all associated trauma". (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“You didn’t come out wrong, Tobias,” he says quietly. He can’t seem to stop rubbing useless circles into the kid’s back. “You’re–I tried so many times to make you. You came out–you’re the only one I got right.” 

Definitely not the only one he failed, though. 

“That’s a lie,” Tobias whispers, his small voice raspy with tears. “You were trying to make Kon. Not–not me.” 

“I never could’ve made Kon,” Tim says. “That’s not something I could’ve done. Kon’s soul wouldn’t be there. But yours is, and that’s–” 

“So if you finish me you can just replace–?” Tobias starts, and Tim cuts him off as fast as he can because the kid shouldn’t look fucking hopeful asking something like–like that.

“No,” he says, and grits his teeth. “No. Never. Kon would hate that, and I’d never forgive myself either. Even if it was possible, I’d never do that. I’d never let anyone do that.” 

“But–but you could,” Tobias stutters, hunching his shoulders. “You could use magic or find a god to ask or–” 

“Tobias,” Tim says, gripping his shoulder tighter than he means to. It’s–hard not to. Very, very hard. “That’d kill you. I’m not doing it. I’m not letting anyone do it.” 

“But it’d work,” Tobias whispers, shrinking in on himself even as he stares up at him with awful, wet eyes that look just like Kon’s. “I’d be Kon like you wanted.” 

“That’s not what I want,” Tim says tightly, feeling sick. “I want you to be Tobias. No one else.” 

“But it’d work,” Tobias insists, big wet tears welling in his eyes. “And–and then Batman couldn’t get mad at you and you wouldn’t get in trouble!” 

“Kid, there is not a single semi-decent person I know who wouldn’t think doing that was a thousand times worse,” Tim says. He knows supervillains who’d think that was a thousand times worse, in fact. A lot of them. “And even if they wouldn’t, I would. I’d never do that to you. Not even to get Kon back. Not for anything. It would never, ever be worth it.” 

“But it’d . . . it’d work,” Tobias repeats again, his voice very, very small. “And you’d be happy again.” 

Tim hates himself. 

“If you got hurt, I’d never be happy again,” he says, and forces himself not to grip Tobias’s shoulder any tighter. “Not for anything. Not ever.” 

“. . . why?” Tobias says, still staring up at him with Kon’s eyes full of tears. He asks it like it’s an actual question. Like he really doesn’t know. 

Like Kon would’ve.

Tim hates himself so, so much.

[accio-bagel]

In the spirit of doing scary things I’ve never done, here is a closeup of this very-much-a-work-in-progress Sebastian piece after hours of hyperfixating on it. 🫣

Personal:

It’s more difficult than I imagined to get back into art as a hobby after literal years of not creating (yay, depression!) Often the motivation just isn’t there and it’s indescribably hard for my ND ass to complete things, but my heart wants so badly to make art and working on this excited me, so I hope sharing it will help me to actually finish it.

To clarify, I’m just doing this for fun (and because it gives me an excuse to stare at his profile for hours) but would like to improve my skills as I’m very out of practice. I welcome constructive feedback if you have it but again, WIP.

Included my reference screenshots because why not, and I was originally inspired by this piece by verkomy on instagram.

[juyeonszn]

PRINCESS AND THE PAUPER (PT. 2)

PAIRING kevin moon x f!reader

WORD COUNT 5.60k

GENRES angst ﹒little bit of fluff ﹒little bit of smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, reader is better than me cause i would not let kevin do all the shit he’s done 😭, ANYWAY i digress, this part is very reader-centric — whereas part one is very kevin-centric, inner turmoil goes absolutely crazy, most of this fic is reader putting kevin in his place and him realizing how big of an asshole he truly is, mentions of injury (past tense), mentions of insecurity, lots of arguing, reader cries at one point or another, the smut places a very minimal role in this, but unprotected sex, public sex (the auditorium dressing room), no foreplay but wtv we fall like soldiers in battle, pussy job lowkey (high key…), creampie, lmk if i missed anything!

SUMMARY it wasn’t like you and kevin hated each other. in fact, you quite admired him despite his somewhat indifferent attitude toward you. well, now that you’re paired up for the last dance of the year, you guess it’s the perfect time to find out why.

MORE oh my god. it’s finally fucking here. A MONTH, 2 SICKNESSES AND MANY MANY STRESSFUL NIGHTS LATER— part two of princess and the pauper is here!!! i’m so sorry to those of u who have been itching and waiting on me to get ‘er done,,, it’s been an ordeal to say the least, and while it’s nearing the two month mark since the black out or back out collab was announced, SHE FINALLY FINISHED!!! for once i saw something through omg i can sleep peacefully and work on my other wips without guilt now… 😭 ALSO THANK U SO MUCH MAYA @/kimsohn FOR PUSHING ME THROUGH THIS and for making me thug it out bc without u it definitely would’ve taken much longer to finish 💔 please dont forget to read part one and the other fics in the series if u haven’t!! both are linked below! and as always, pls reblog if u enjoyed <3

PART ONE | SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies @vernyangel @ericlvr @sunwooverse @kimsohn

TAGLIST @millksea @deobibbang @deobi0412

Never in your life have you felt so… Confused.

It wasn’t just confusion that settled deep in the pit of your stomach. There was a sharp pain there too, like someone stabbed you and twisted the knife. That was probably the best way to describe what you were feeling. You were bleeding out, and no one was coming to save you.

Kevin wasn’t answering your calls. He wasn’t answering your texts. He ran out of the lecture hall as soon as class was over, never giving you a moment to speak to him. It was making you nervous.

You still had half of a dance to choreograph and a fuck ton of pressure riding on your back. After the last performance you and him did together, you’d have a lot of eyes on you. It most definitely wasn’t your fault that he dropped you. How many people willingly want to acquire a broken ankle? The crutches were a bitch to maneuver around with. But like every single thing that’s happened in the three years you’ve known Kevin Moon, he’s managed to place the blame on you like it was.

It was crucial that you make amends with him even if it was momentarily. Your final grades were dependent on your performance. If he couldn’t get his shit together for at least that, he was a lost cause in your mind. Not even your professor would be able to refute that fact. Actually, nobody would be able to refute that fact.

Your lips form an O as you blow the steam away from your coffee, pulling out your phone to try Kevin’s phone once again. The line rings a few times before going straight to voicemail like it has the past couple weeks. You kiss your teeth, tying your sweater around your waist as you slump in your chair. The baristas at the campus cafe were probably sick of seeing you sitting in the same high-top counter spot since the incident with Kevin in the studio.

“Y/N?”

Ji Changmin appears beside you and you click your phone off, so he wouldn’t see his friend’s contact on the screen. You give the Early Childhood Dev major a weak smile.

“Changmin! What’s up? How are you and your girlfriend?” You hope he can’t recognize the distress written all over your features. You highly doubt it, though. You can feel the wrinkles pulling at your skin.

“We’re good! How’s the showcase performance going with Kev?” He asks like he knows something you don’t. When your lips fall to a thin line, an all too familiar grimace, he sighs a knowing sigh. “Do I have to smack some sense into him?”

“Not gonna lie, yeah, you do. He’s being really fucking difficult and like half of our dance is unfinished. I can’t even get a hold of him, so I’m starting to lose my patience.” You express your annoyance. The border between complacency and free-will was a lot slimmer than one might think. For example; your feelings when it comes to Kevin Moon.

You don’t expect to get a returning call later that night when you’re washing dishes after dinner.

In fact, you don’t even hear it at first, too absorbed in scrubbing the staining out of your bowl. It’s when your roommate yells out to you, that you snap out of your reverie, albeit dazedly. You dry your hands on a nearby tea towel, hitting the green answer button without a second glance at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Are you free tomorrow?”

Your heart catches in your throat. You recognize the owner of the voice practically by the first breath into the receiver alone. It’s actually kind of unhealthy how quickly it took to realize who was on the other end. You swallow heavily, praying he doesn’t hear the gulp.

“In the latter part of the afternoon, I believe. Why?” You try not to sound hopeful. That’s one thing you’ve learned being in the same vicinity as Kevin Moon. You could never be too expecting, because it would only lead to disappointment. And you’d dealt with enough of that the past few years.

“We need to finish this fuck ass choreography,” he grunts, and it takes everything in you to bite your tongue. “I’ll meet you in the same studio at 4.”

He doesn’t let you get anything else in, hanging up swiftly. You deflate as you set your phone back on the counter. All you had to do was push through these next couple weeks, like you always have when it came to him.

That should be a piece of cake, right?

Wrong.

“No, that looks stupid.”

You grit your teeth, swiping the back of your hand on your forehead. You’d been inside of this studio maybe 30 minutes tops, and you were on the verge of strangling Kevin. With as long as you’d been putting up with his shit, you thought getting through this wouldn’t be as rough as it’s been. But if there was one thing Kevin Moon had, it was pride.

“We don’t have time for you to nitpick right now. Let’s just finish the choreography and clean it after.” Your hands rest on your hips, nostrils flaring.

“If we clean as we go, we’ll have more time to drill it into our systems and get down muscle memory. It’ll be a stronger performance.” He argues. You roll your eyes as you turn away from him, taking a water break to calm yourself. “Why do you have so much fucking attitude today? You were the one preaching to the choir about me making things difficult. It seems the tables have turned.”

Usually, you were pretty good at keeping your frustration at bay when it came to Kevin’s remarks. You liked to think it was because you were down bad for the guy, despite him always wanting nothing to do with you. But as of late, (Read: Since your performance of Princess and the Pauper) every little comment he’s made has managed to crawl under your skin like a damn parasite. You were beginning to get real sick of it.

“God, you’re so—“ You interrupt yourself to groan, fingers curling into fists. “You’re fucking insufferable. Do you know that? I’ve been bending over backwards to ensure we aren’t kicked out of the goddamn program and you don’t even fucking care. Over what? A kiss that you initiated?”

Kevin is stunned into silence, not at all prepared for you to blow up on him like that. After all, that razor thin line between complacency and free-will had yet to be crossed. And well, it appears that you just crossed it. You whip around toward him, pulling down the collar of your t-shirt to reveal the faintest of bruises that still remains from your impromptu act of intimacy.

“I’ve had to look at this every day for a week and all it’s done is make me feel shitty, ashamed of something I didn’t even start. Now I need you to stop acting like an ass and get it together so we can finish this and perform the best dance this university has ever seen.” Your chest is heaving up and down, similarly to when you made out against the mirrors last week. Except this time isn’t out of breathlessness, but rather anger and exhaustion.

Kevin’s eyes don’t leave the hickey on the base of your throat, something undetectable swimming in them as he stares. You can’t read the emotions swirling rampantly in his irises, a mixture of too many blurring into one another. Honestly, it’s funny. It’s funny that it’s taken you this long to get him to shut his mouth for once.

So you laugh.

It’s a snort at first, an off handed projection of how comical the situation has become to you. But then it metamorphoses into a small giggle, which leads to full scale laughter that has you hunching over your knees and wiping away tears. This whole thing is stupid. Absolutely fucking stupid.

“What are you laughing at?” His eyebrow raises in question, broken from his weird trance.

“I just can’t believe it took three years for me to shut you up,” you shake your head slowly, rubbing your eye with the heel of your palm. “You’re always the one who can’t stop talking.”

Kevin deadpans, mouth pulled pin-straight as his expression drops. “You’re so unserious.”

As the height of your laughter reaches a valley, you collapse onto the ground, resting your back against the mirror. You take another long sip of water before sighing. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal. Trust me, I know. But, we’ve gotta set aside our differences just this once. Please, for the sake of the department.”

“Fine,” he murmurs, plopping down beside you to stretch his back. “Let’s finish choreographing so we can start cleaning it up.”

It’s a victory in your book, and probably the most obedient the Pisces has ever been. Maybe this wouldn’t end in complete disaster like you assumed it would. It turns out Kevin Moon wasn’t entirely brainless and knew when he was wrong. Sometimes. Maybe. We’ll see.

You shut your eyes and visualize what you’ve choreographed so far, going over the moves in your head to see if the rest will come to you like a prophecy. It’s wishful thinking, but with how much you’ve accomplished since setting foot in the studio, you’re willing to try anything. The track would be nice for elements of hip hop style choreography, but you knew the audience wouldn’t eat it up as much as they would the route you’re currently taking.

Driver roll up the partition, please…

The song plays through the speakers and you watch as Kevin stands to run through everything you have. You’re entranced by his movements, the flow of his body on certain points. It’ll look ten times better once you’re doing it with him, costumed and performing it perfectly in front of a crowd. You can picture it now, the gentle but controlled glide of his hands along your arms when Beyoncé sings “We ain’t even gonna make it to this club”. He was right. You very well might be seduced by your enemy.

“Should we use props?” You suddenly voice, eyes narrowed in thought. He hums.

“That’s… not a half-bad idea, actually,” his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “What did you have in mind?”

“A chair, maybe,” you look away from him, placing your focus on the way your toes alternate between a tendu and relaxed position. “That could take up a good chunk of the choreo.”

Kevin stalks over to the supply closet in the corner of the studio, pulling out a folding chair. He puts it in the center of the room gently, careful to not scratch up the wooden, lacquered flooring. You spend the next couple of hours brainstorming through numerous versions of the dance. While it was a lot easier than your past practices, there were still the occasional argument over which movements looked good and whatnot.

At a certain point, everything becomes cohesive and the end is near. You gulp down some water as Kevin does some random choreography. It’s then that it comes to you, like a vision from That’s So Raven. You practically drop your water bottle, scrambling to your feet and stopping him. Your breath is heavy from fatigue and you’re slightly afraid of even suggesting this, but it’s exactly what this dance needs. It’s exactly what everyone wants to see from the two of you.

He pauses the music and gestures for you to get on with it. You push down the lump in your throat, scared of rejection. But maybe he was smart and he would agree that this is what you have to do. “What if we did a lift?”

You see the hesitation swirling in his eyes and you raise a finger before he can shut you down entirely. “Nothing crazy like… um— you know— Princess and the Pauper, but something smaller. Something… sexy? Like, Dancing with the Stars type beat.”

When he shrugs instead of outright dismissing your idea, you know you’ve won. He nods slowly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “Okay, sure. But we better clean up everything else fast so we can perfect the lift.”

The two of you take another three hours running the entirety of the choreography, ingraining the moves into your brains and muscles. You still had a bit until the actual showcase, but your priority now lies with the lift. If you nailed it, the entire department would very well grovel after you in reparation for all of the slack you got after Kevin dropped you. Hell, the entire university would kiss your feet. This was your redemption. In more ways than one.

You both decide to call it a day at around 9:30 PM. Your hands reach for your belongings and then you halt yourself, a thought coming to mind. While you had him in this weird state of obedience, you figured it was as good a time as any to ask the question that’s been weighing on you for the past few years. Your fingers swipe away the sweat beading around your hairline.

”Kevin,” you start, voice a lot softer than before. “Why do you— what did I do to make you dislike me so much?”

He’s caught completely off guard, eyes widening in surprise. If he was anticipating you to say anything else prior to parting ways tonight, he didn’t think this would be it. He’s actually a little off put that you hadn’t asked him this already in the span of your definitely-one-sided rivalry. He takes a large gulp of water.

”I’d call it indifference, not dislike,” he corrects after a pregnant silence. “It’s really fucking stupid thinking about it in hindsight. I don’t know if you remember this time, way back in our first year, we ran into each other at the campus cafe— literally, might I add— and you spilled your coffee all over this white shirt of mine that Changmin had gotten for me as a birthday gift. I only recently found out that it wasn’t as expensive as he made it out to be.”

You blink at his admission, processing his words as thoroughly as possible. You don’t know what you wanted him to say. You weren’t even sure if there was a concrete reason for him to be so fucking mean to you all this time. And now that you know, you come to the conclusion that Kevin Moon isn’t as smart as you’ve painted him out to be in your head. He’s actually a gigantic idiot. Because who in their right mind goes through these lengths to form a distance between the only other person on par with their talent?

Before you can stop yourself, you’re bursting into another fit of laughter. Kevin falters at your reaction. He was waiting for you to blow up on him, to scream in his face for causing you so much pain and unnecessary drama over something so silly. So when you do none of that, when you start fucking laughing like a damn hyena, he feels dumb. Like his entire college career has been built off of nothing.

”This is so—“ you pause to gather your bearings, wiping away the tears that managed to escape. “We’ve spent so much time going back and forth over some spilled coffee? Surely you’ve realized how insane that is at some point.”

”It took a lengthy argument with Changmin, but yeah, I did,” he nods, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

You worry your lower lip between your teeth, finally getting your things together. The two of you bid each other an awkward goodbye. Neither of you knew what to make of your relationship now that things had been partially sorted through. There was a fuck ton of baggage that still had to be sifted, but at least you had an answer.

That was enough to push through this showcase performance. You think.

You’re nervous.

Never in your entire life have you ever been this nervous for a performance.

You grew up doing musical theatre and dancing, it’s always been the one constant presence you could rely on. But standing here, backstage at the showcase, you think you’re going to throw up. Your palms are clamming up uncontrollably and your chest feels unbearably heavy as you watch the quartet doing a contemporary piece to some ballad you couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of. There were still a couple groups before you.

Not even when you had to perform fuckass Princess and the Pauper were you this anxious. You wince, trying to stop the incessant bouncing of your leg. Your weight keeps shifting from one hip to the other. As a seasoned veteran, you don’t know why you feel this way. Maybe it had to do with all the pressure riding on this very dance. Every single eye in that crowd was going to scrutinize your every move on that stage.

“Calm down,” a voice whispers harshly from beside you. “You’re making me nervous.”

Kevin wraps his fingers around your wrist, stopping the annoying tap-tap-tap your own were doing against your thigh. He gives you a look, and you sigh. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

That’s a lie. Not only was the high expectations from the entire school getting to you, but so was the fear of history repeating itself. He knows this, it was inevitable. After what happened the last time he was tasked with lifting you, it was only natural.

”We’ve drilled this dance hundreds, if not thousands, of times, Y/N. We’ll do just fine.” Kevin assures you.

His hand feels foreign holding yours, like it was illegal for his skin to be touching your own. You feel your lower lip quiver, a sense of trepidation that you’ve never once felt creeping down your spine. Your mind was spiraling, and quite honestly, Kevin being so close was making it worse. All you could think about was him dropping you again, leaving you in the middle of the stage with a broken leg and a broken heart. You release a shaky breath and he turns to face you.

Your eyes widen and he searches your face for any disingenuity. When he finds his answer, he brings the hand that was holding yours up to cup your cheek. He’s cautious, afraid he might break you like he always does. He waits for you to shove him away and to yell at him for being a fucking coward.

You don’t. You stay still, hoping he follows through with what you think he’s about to do. And then he does.

It’s such a featherlight peck of his lips on your own, you almost don’t even register. But sparks shoot from the source all the way to the tips of your fingers. You feel as if you were dealt a static shock of electricity, your whole body buzzing from the small kiss alone.

He pulls away just in time for the stage manager to inform you that you’re next. Kevin rolls his neck jogging over to the wings to patiently await your performance like he hadn’t just kissed you a moment ago. You blink dumbly, two fingers coming up to touch where his lips had been. Sure the nerves were gone now, but the sensation of butterflies swarming about in your stomach easily replaced that. What the fuck was his problem?

“Our last performance is one I’m sure all of you have been waiting for. Kevin Moon and Y/N L/N with Partition!”

Before you know it, you and Kevin are in position, your body squared upstage and his to the crowd. Your eyes are closed, but you can feel his arm wrapped around your waist and his steady breathing on your nose. The spotlight switches on, the heat of the lighting warm against the side of your face. It’s silent in the auditorium, but it rings in your ears. You could do this.

Let me hear you say ‘Hey Miss Carter’…

You move on reflex, muscle memory kicking in instantaneously. Each circle of your hips, every turn you make— a fouetté here, a pirouette there, a couple coupes, each roll of your body. But what really gets you is the long brushes of Kevin’s skin on your own. You’d practiced with distance between the two of you. There was a tension that had been there for years. Now it’s all coming to a rolling boil, a new uncharted tension that every single member in that audience could see.

And then comes the lift.

You, along with everybody in the auditorium, practically hold your breath when Kevin’s hands grip your hips. He raises you above him with all of his strength, completely focused on you and only you. You shut your eyes and feel the moment, like, really feel it. Your body is relaxed, the Dirty Dancing-esque lift bringing the whole performance together just like you knew it would. The only difference from the movie and real life is the fact that you’re flipped, your backside to Kevin and your chest to the ceiling.

Your eyes flutter open, the spotlight all but blinding you, and you finally feel content. Like everything has fallen into the right place for once in your life. Especially so when Kevin sets you down gently and you finish your dance with the utmost confidence.

The crowd erupts into a roaring chorus of applause, going as far as giving you a standing ovation. Holy shit. You pulled it off. You actually managed to pull it off.

Your face feels like it might split from how big your smile is. You and Kevin bow, walking off stage. You’re entirely too happy right now, a newfound energy overtaking you as you trail behind him.

“We did it!” You cheer as you follow him towards the dressing room where your things are. You’re the only ones left backstage, everyone else filtering out between performances. Kevin doesn’t give you much of a response, just a small nod of acknowledgment. Your smile falters. “What the hell is your problem?”

”Nothing, Y/N, fuck. Can you just mind your own fucking business?” He snaps, turning around to glare at you just as the door slams behind you. You instinctively flinch at both loud noises. His features soften but you take a step back from him.

You aren’t sure why you’re surprised. This isn’t anything new. Kevin has always made it crystal clear that he wasn’t your number one fan. Being neutral for your performance wasn’t enough to repair all the holes in whatever your relationship was, and you should’ve known better. You shouldn’t have let your guard down so easily. You should’ve expected this. Old dogs can never learn new tricks.

But Kevin’s scared. He’s afraid of letting you in after all the mess he’s put you through. The only thing he’s good at doing is hurting you, over and over like there was a prize that came out of it.

”Look…”

”No, you listen to me,” you swallow heavily, tears already tight lining your eyes. “Kevin, I have taken so much shit from you. Over these past few years I have just sat there and let you unload all your fucked up insecurities onto me. Have you ever wondered why? Have you ever thought to stop and think about why I let you be so mean to me without even questioning it?”

He says nothing, just stares with his lips parted. They open and close like a fish out of water, words there at the tip of his tongue but refusing to make their escape. And then one of your tears rolls down your cheeks and he’s directly in front you, his heart on his sleeve for the first time since you’ve met him.

”Why?” The simple question is so quiet, you almost don’t hear him. But his eyes hold so much hurt, so much anguish that you’ve never seen in a person before.

“I’ve had feelings for you for so long, it’s actually starting to ache. You’ve only ever seen me as this thing, this obstacle. And I’m afraid that that’s all I’ll ever be to you, because you won’t let me be anything else. You won’t—“

”That’s not true, Y/N,” Kevin sighs, looking off to the side, away from you. “I just— it’s complicated. It’s more than just being rivals.”

”So help me understand,” you frown. “Let me in, please.”

”My entire life I’ve had to work to get to where I am. I’ve fought tooth and nail to be as good of a performer as I am today. There were so many hoops I had to go through to even get into this program and— and I thought I’d finally become the best I could be. I thought that there was no way anyone could ever be better than me. And then you showed up. You and your pretty smile and your natural ability to be the best at everything you do. It was like you were the real life manifestation of all of my critics, of every challenge I faced to get here. Where I had to practice day and night to perfect something, it just came to you like second nature. During Princess and the Pauper, when I dropped you, it truly was an accident. But we’d spent so much time nailing it, that it— I just made myself feel better by saying it was your fault. ‘How could it have been my fault if I perfected it?’ I was jealous and petty and it was just easier to blame hating— to blame my indifference on you spilling coffee on my stupid shirt. For that, I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what you were waiting to hear, but it wasn’t that. Your tears turn into full on blubbering, because what the fuck? That’s so much burden for someone to carry on their shoulders for three years.

“Why are you— why are you crying?” He flounders, reaching up to swipe away your tears.

“I wish I knew… I wish I could’ve helped you somehow,” you sniffle. “Kev, I’ve always admired you and your work ethic. I hoped one day I’d be half as disciplined as you, half as determined.”

He blinks. You’re both dumb, aren’t you? Too focused on the wrong things. You both could’ve been a lot less hateful, a lot less miserable, had you just spoken your differences out. This entire rivalry has been completely one sided, but also built off of plain stupidity and ignorance. He supposes it’s not too late to make amends if you aren’t running in the opposite direction despite everything he’s put you through.

Kevin leans forward, hand still pressed to your cheek, and connects your lips softly. He’s testing the waters, making sure you’re comfortable before he continues anything. When you don’t back away just yet, he adds more force, deepening the kiss like a man starved. You whine against his lips.

This is what you’ve been wanting from him. More than what he gave you before your performance, but not what happened in the studio a few weeks ago. This desperation isn’t abashed lust, it’s unbridled affection— it’s everything he’s holed inside of himself for years, unwilling to let it see the light of day until now. If you were to label anything as perfection, it wouldn’t be a dance or a moment on stage, it would be this. Just you and Kevin finally bringing yourselves together in the most intimately emotional union.

He pulls you closer to him, hands sliding down to grasp at your waist, bunching up the thin fabric of your leotard. You can’t help but bury your fingers in his hair, tugging when he nips at your lower lip. A gasp permeates the air when his mouth travels south, along your jaw and down the side of your neck. He bites and sucks the tender skin at the base of your throat, ensuring he leaves his mark on you. This time isn’t careless, this time he has purpose. He wants everybody to know that you’re his, that you’re the only person insane enough to put up with him.

Your breathing is shaky when you reach behind you to lock the dressing room, dragging him over to the long vanity adjacent to you. He slots between your legs when you hoist yourself onto the surface. He pecks your lips and pauses his movements, rubbing up and down your thighs. In the dim, yellow lighting of the room, you look so gorgeous. He’s always thought you were beautiful, the most stunning thing he’s ever laid his eyes on, but he’s repressed it for so long. He wants to take his time staring at what he’s avoided.

”You’re so pretty,” he says quietly, kissing you again and again and again. “I don’t think I can last long with you.”

“Can we skip the foreplay?” You ask, bottom lip jutted into a pout. “Need you to just fuck me like you mean it.”

Kevin’s forehead falls to your shoulder with a groan. “I don’t deserve you,” God, he’s such an idiot for holding out from this. You should’ve been given the world and so much more. He has a lot of lost time to make up for. He kisses your shoulder with a sigh. “Yeah, baby, I can do that.”

You don’t waste another second, slipping your arms through the sleeves of your leotard. He has to bite down on his tongue when he sees that you’re braless, fingers going slack as they unbutton the rest of his silk shirt. You shimmy out of the one piece, left in nothing but the fishnet stockings you wore underneath and your lacy panties. Kevin thinks he must’ve done at least something right in a past life to experience this.

Your eyes sparkle as you look up at him, undoing his slacks and kicking them down his legs with your feet. Something takes over him when he rips a bigger hole in your stockings, pushing your underwear to the side. His thumb glides through your folds with ease, your slick providing enough lubricant. He pushes your lower lips apart while you busy yourself shoving his underwear to his ankles.

His cock slips inside of you with less friction than he would’ve thought, but he doesn’t complain, screwing his eyes shut as he acclimates to the feeling of your walls surrounding him. You moan, such a soft sound that he nearly loses his balance.

“You feel so good, baby,” he coos, digging his fingers into your hips as he rocks his own. “You’re so so perfect.”

The praise is too much for you, given the circumstances. Your brain is already cloudy, stuffed with what could only be described as cotton. You watch with half lidded eyes as he begins to piston into you at a faster speed. This all feels like a fever dream, something that was only possible in your craziest fantasies. Even then, it seemed unlikely.

“‘M close, Kev,” you whine, unable to stay still and attempting to match his thrusts.

“Already? We’ve only just started, gorgeous.” He laughs, but it’s breathy, strained from the exertion of his body. You hardly have the strength in you to be embarrassed about it, especially since he’s seen you in much worse situations.

You nod frantically, snaking a hand between you to circle your clit with nimble fingers. Kevin halts you and pulls out momentarily, sliding his cock between your folds like it was your hand. The tip catches your sensitive bundle of nerves repeatedly, making you dizzier than you already were.

He presses back into you with ease, resuming his sloppy but animalistic pace. He uses his thumb to continue your handywork, your cunt fluttering around him needily. You’re both losing your sanity quickly, both going batshit insane over the bare minimum. You’ve just needed this for so long, yearned for this moment for a humiliating amount of time.

Your moans start to rise in pitch and he groans. “Fuck, baby, you can cum for me.”

He could cry, he thinks, when your back arches and your legs shake with your orgasm. It hits you like a freight train, triggering his own release just as fast.

You stay like that for a bit, regaining yourselves and comprehending everything that’s just happened. So much for the whole hating each other narrative.

“What does this mean for us?” You suddenly ask, arms hooked around Kevin’s neck. You’re still connected by your lower halves, but he makes no effort to pull away. Part of you likes it that way, it gives you hope that this isn’t a one time affair.

“It’ll be hard for things to change overnight,” he says, massaging your sides. “We have a lot of unresolved issues and insecurities that we still have to push past. But I’m willing to do that with you. I want to take a chance on us.”

Your lips pull into a smile, an expression you don’t think you’ve worn around him genuinely in the years you’ve known him. “I do, too.”

“It’s kind of ironic that it was a performance that tore us apart and brought us back together, don’t you think?” He laughs.

“And we fucked in the dressing room…” You add, glancing to the top corner where a security camera is stationed.

“Maybe we should get out of here before someone checks the footage,” he suggests. “Tau Beta Zeta is conveniently hosting our end of semester party tonight, do you wanna be my plus one?”

“I would be honored.” You grin, pecking his lips tenderly.

Perhaps happy endings existed after all.

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[licorice-tea]

Young And Dumb.

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x reader

Content: Strawhat reader, gender neutral reader, reader is flirty and bold, cursing, allusions to sex and a threesome, no actual sexual content!!!, pining, kissing 🤭, misunderstandings/ miscommunication, a little bit of arguing, hurt/comfort <3

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: kind of been in a writing slump these past few days, so i just wanted to write and post something, you know? it’s weird bc i have a ton of wips in my drafts, but none of them really felt finished, so i did this whole thing in maybe 2 hours? hopefully it’s enough to pull me out of my little funk so i can get back to posting more regularly! anyway, enjoy!

Law respects you. He respects your choices, your independence from him, even your crew that he doesn’t always like personally. But one thing he absolutely cannot stand is when you do things like this.

The first thing he hears upon walking up to the deck is giggling. Bothersome, but not too loud or unusual that it throws off his routine. Besides; he’s sure his crew must be glad to be above the waves for once, and happy to have the company of the Straw Hats as well. The two crews had wound up with their ships anchored next to each other in the middle of the sea, and agreed to stay there before their courses diverged once again.

He sees you talking to Penguin and Shachi- the source of said laughter. But, Law does a double take when you let out a shriek of laughter. Then he realizes just how closely the two of them are standing to you. You’re not even on the same crew as them, but you look real cozy with Penguin’s hand around your waist and Shachi’s on your shoulder. Of course, he knows your friendliness can border on flirtation (and desperately wants to be on the receiving end of that flirting right now instead of his crew members) but that logic does nothing to calm him.

Law’s perpetual frown turns into a full on scowl as he marches over to the trio you’ve formed. “Penguin! Shachi! Have you…” he loses his train of thought when you give him a quizzical expression, and realizes there is nothing that they haven’t already done. “Your chores. Below deck.”

“Sure have, captain!”

“Yes, captain!”

All three of you look at him expectantly, unsure of why he’s still standing before you. “Are you ok, Law?”

“Ok?” No he wasn’t fucking ok. How could he be when two of his closest friends were throwing themselves at you, and you were letting them? They didn’t even know how he felt for you- no one does- but still. This was just too much for him.

“I need to speak to you, y/n-ya.”

With regard for his serious tone and expression, you wriggle out from between your two friends and follow Law all the way to his office. When you get there and he finally shuts the door, you don’t sit.

Instead you approach him, “Is something wrong? You seemed really upset.”

He looks down at you with a frown. You can tell he’s contemplating his next words before answering, “…Everything is fine.”

“Oh? Ok, so… why are we here then?”

Law breathes deeply, and exhales in a huff. “I need to tell you something.”

“Is it… serious? You’re being kind of weird, Law.”

“I am not.”

“Hm, well, no; you are. But what’s up?”

“I-“ he stops himself and sighs again before continuing. “So dramatic,” you think to yourself. “You shouldn’t get so close to Penguin and Shachi.”

You blink a few times, shocked. He could either be confessing his overwhelming love for you (which you highly doubted, Law had never seemed to reciprocate your affections for him) or giving you some spiel about inappropriate relationships. “Excuse me?”

“They do this kind of thing all the time, y/n-ya; messing around with random women and men, and-“

“And what, Law? I’m an adult, for fucks sake, I don’t need anyone telling me what to do.”

“You don’t understand, they- they want something from you.”

“I know damn well you’re not lecturing me on my sex life right now, Trafalgar Law.”

His face gets hot just from the thought of it. “I am not! But you can’t-“

“Yes, Law, I can. I’m not going to, wasn’t even planning on it; all I did was flirt with them. But believe me when I say I can.”

He’s silent, with an expression akin to that of a bewildered fish. Then it morphs into more of a frown. “I-“

“Don’t even continue with that thought, because you’ve already managed to piss me off beyond belief. Just- just get out of my way.” You step around him and fling open the door to his office before storming off.

That evening, the two crews gather on the deck of the Thousand Sunny for a feast. You find an empty seat, and soon enough Penguin and Shachi place themselves on either side of you.

“Heyyyy y/n.” The first greets you with a sort of awkward, nervous cadence.

“Hey guys, sorry I left without saying bye earlier.”

“Oh it’s fine, you’re good…”

“We’re sorry too.”

This makes you quirk an eyebrow in confusion and look side to side at either of them. “Why would you be sorry?”

They shoot a quick glance at each other, but it’s very obvious because they have to look across you to do so.

“Did you know that, well… Law sort of…”

“He has feeling for you. Big time.”

You almost spit out your drink. “What? Oh, ok, real funny guys-“

“No, no we’re serious!”

“Yeah! You should hear the way he talks about you-“

“All good things, of course, it’d be hard not to- But anyway he was never going to tell you because he doesn’t think you’re interested, blah blah blah-“

“Which is why we decided to try and make him jealous!”

“…I’m so confused right now. No, not even confused just… surprised?”

“Don’t blame yourself, Captain’s hard to read sometimes.”

“Good thing we figured it out for you, right?” Shachi elbows your side, clearly pleased with himself.

“Uh huh...”

Penguin continues “Anyway, we thought it worked when he said he needed to talk to you earlier, but when you came back you seemed sort of upset.”

“Yeah, well he was kind of acting like a dick.”

He sighs, “Law means well, I swear. He’s just… he’s not the best with matters of the heart.”

“That’s ironic.”

Shachi leans over you to address his friend. “Not the best? C’mon man, he has zero experience.”

“Shh! We want y/n to feel for him, not pity him.”

You laugh, “Right, so… what should I do?”

“Do you like him back?” Such a childish way of saying it.. but you do. And you had, for a while, but you’d never acted on your feelings because he’d never seem to like you as anything other than a friend. Until earlier today, when his jealously led him to say some kind of rude things to you. It was no excuse, but it explained why he’d acted the way he did.

You smile softly and look down. “I do.”

“Then go talk to him!”

“Yeah, go talk to him y/n!”

The two men excitedly get you up out of your seat and (gently) push you toward where Law is leaning on the railing of the deck. You laugh and go along with it- if what they were saying is true, what could be the harm in being honest about your own feelings with him?

You walk briskly toward Law, but with purpose, And when you stop in front of him, he looks up from his cup like a deer in headlights.

He quietly greets you with a nod. “…Y/n-ya.”

“Law. Can we talk?”

He nods and follows you to the starboard side of the deck, far enough from where the dinner and light music is. You come to a stop and turn to face him.

“You know, I’ve been talking to Penguin and Shachi…”

Law deadpans, still annoyed about how they were all over you earlier. “Mhm.”

“And they told me something about you. I didn’t really believe it, at first, because you never… Well you never acted like you do, but-“

“Like I what?”

“Like you… have feelings for me?”

“Shit.” He was going to kill them after this. Or at the very least, make sure they had the worst of the chores on the Polar Tang for the foreseeable future. “They… They told you that?”

“Yes, but-“ Law turns and tries to walk off with his fists clenched, before you stop and grab one of his wrists. “I feel the same way, Law. If it’s true, of course.“

“It is.”

You smile. “If you were jealous earlier, you could’ve just said so. Then I wouldn’t have gotten angry with you.”

“You’re not interested in them?”

“No, we’re just friends… But I didn’t think you were interested in me, either, so I didn’t see the harm in flirting.”

Law shrugs, looking down at his shoes. You’ve never seen him so shy. “Well, I didn’t think you felt the same way, so I never, uh, confessed.”

“Well,” you take a step closer, and risk your chances by gently lifting his chin with one hand. “I do.”

Law’s eyes roam over your face, mouth gaping as he searches for his next words. He wants to say something suave and impressive, to take back control of the situation when you so clearly have him wrapped around your finger. However, he comes up with nothing, and decides to try something new instead. Maybe your boldness has simply inspired him to suddenly come up with this master plan, or maybe he just can’t think of anything else with you standing so close; but he kisses you.

It’s slow and hesitant for the first few seconds- you think he’s probably new to this by the way he lips press into yours forcefully and without much intention. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer, guiding him to sink his lips into yours rather than have them press flat against each other. He follows suit, then pulls away for a quick breath before going right back for you. He sighs into the kiss this time, and your lips part ever so slightly. He takes this as opportunity try and go a little further- his tongue passes in the slit between your lips and you open them further to let him. What had started off as a small kiss quickly becomes a less than innocent make out session. Law is bold with it, too; nipping at your lips and causing you to gasp so that he can take you by surprise and kiss you that much more deeply (on more than one occasion.) You can both practically feel the tension built up over months of pining after each other dissipating.

At long last you pull away, for fear your mouth will go numb if you let him bite your lips one more time.

And Law asks, slightly panting; “How was that?”

You laugh, genuinely surprised that he’s concerned about his performance in what might’ve been was the best kiss of your life. “Perfect, Law. Just perfect.”

[slimybeth69]

Que Será, Será: Part 6

Rating: Explicit- Smut, violence, drinking/drug use. MDNI!! Summary: It's almost twenty years after some weird outbreak almost happened but the CDC took care of that...Now you're living in Austin, Texas as an adult.What happens when you meet Joel Miller who hasn't been hardened and ruined by twenty years of murder and loss?

Warnings/Tags: DaddyDom!Joel/ you. no use of y/n. No physical description of the reader besides one tattoo. Reader has a background story. Drinking/drug use. Slow burn. Smut. Angst. Cheating. Graphic depictions of violence. Eventual loss of virginity. Use of nicknames/pet names (lil girl, baby girl.) DD/lg dynamics. BDSM play. Unbeta'ed. WIP. Cross-posting from my Ao3. chapter warnings/ tags: embarrassing situations, porn, thigh fucking, teasing, Joel snoring.

“Hey! I’m so fuckin’ sorry! Jeeeeesus, I feel like such an asshole.” Joel is speaking fast and with apologies all tethered to his words. “I’m real sorry. I left my phone n’ keys in my brothers truck after he dropped me off from the bar last night. Feel like a dick. Didn’t get my shit back ‘till just now when he dropped ‘em off t’me.” Joel sighs loudly. “I’m sorry. Hope yer’ not mad at me.” He sounds fretful. Worried.

“No. Not at all. I get it. Shit like that happens.” That does come out of you very casually. 

“I got worried as hell when you didn’t text or call. Nothin’. I thought fer’ sure you were gonna think the worst, block my number. Never talk t’me again.” Joel chuckles nervously. 

“Nah. I was hanging out–”

“Readin’ yer’ spooky stories?” Joel asks before you can finish and now… you might be in love with him. Fuck. 

“Yeah… I was actually.” You smirk against the phone like an idiot. 

“You wanna… come read ‘em here? I just watch football on Sunday… but, I wouldn’t be mad if you wanted to just come, I dunno, sit in my lap and hang out. Could smoke, drink a lil.” Joel speaks quietly and almost bashfully. You dunno.

You’ve done worse things in your life behind the wheel of a car, okay? You’re not even drunk. Not even a little. Nope. Feel bad for driving under the influence? Absolutely. But, you’re fine. You took your time packing your lil spend the night bag with your stuff for work tomorrow because he said you should stay the night. Okay. You’re calm and cool. Not overly excited. You brought your laptop so you could comfortably read your ‘spooky stories’ aka real life murders that have taken place. Joel is so cute. Fuck.

When you get to Joel’s house it’s almost two in the afternoon. You guys still have most of the day to spend together and hang out before you have to really go to bed. No more all nighters. Neither of you were children. He’s sitting on his front porch in one of those nice wooden rocking chairs. He has two of them. They’re big and sturdy and look kinda cozy, actually. He is at your door, opening it for you before the truck is even off. He doesn’t let you get out, he runs his hands along your thighs as you turn to face him in an attempt to jump down. 

“Sorry.” Joel smiles up at you apologetically and continues moving his hands up and down your legs softly. 

“Should be.” You tease him but lean in and give him a small, fast kiss. He hums happily in response and holds his hand out. You go to put your hand in his but he pulls it away with a sucking noise on his teeth. You pinch your brows together at him and he holds his hand out again, saying nothing. You look and he wants the two bags you have in your hand. 

“Lemme carry ‘em.” He says after a second you you hesitating. You eye him up and down. 

“Why?” You’re not suspicious or anything. You know he’s being a gentleman… you just… dunno. It’s weird. 

“Y’serious? Really?” Joel grabs the bags and the gentleman leaves him as he abandons you in the truck and starts towards the house. You roll your eyes and follow him inside. He’s walking upstairs already and you’re chasing him up, touching the backs for his thighs and his ass and he’s swatting your hands away. 

“S’no fun, is it?” You tease him and squeeze his ass playfully through his jeans. He jumps and glares at you over his shoulder. 

“S’fun when I do it to you.” he grins as you get to the top of the stairs. “Real fun.” 

“Oh, I bet it is.” You grin back at him as he walks into his bedroom. He sets your bags on his bed and turns to you. 

“Football’s on. Wanna come sit n’ smoke with me while I don’t pay attention?” He asks, chuckling softly. 

“Why wouldn’t you be payin’ attention?” You bat your eyelashes at him and smirk. 

“‘Cause my team sucks— what do you mean?” Joel gives you his goofy, dumb smile and wraps an arm around your waist. “I am real sorry. Feel bad y’probably waited up fer’ me n’ I didn’t call. I sat here all night just feelin’ bad.” Joel whispers before he kisses you softly. “Don’t wanna make y’sad.” 

“I wasn’t sad.” You lie. You lie so hard because you’re not gonna let him know you were sad. You don’t get sad over boys. You already cried once because you thought he went home after he ate you out. No. He won’t know it. 

“Well good. I’m glad y’weren’t cryin’ in bed. I don’t want ya doin’ that over me.” He kisses you again softly. You kiss him back but are thinking about a casual way to ask if he’s interested in marrying you really quick. You just wanna know what it feels like to be married to him and then everything can just, go back to normal. 

“I was a lil disappointed but, I didn’t let it ruin my night.” You lie again.  Joel smiles and kisses your forehead now. 

“Good.” Is all he says. “Get yer’ spooky stories n’ lets go smoke n’ I have a bottle of somethin’ downstairs.” He smirks as he walks towards the door but he waits for you. You grab your laptop and follow him down into the living room. He has a nice big, brown suede couch and a matching recliner. An ottoman to put your feet on. A table on either side of the couch. You set your laptop down and follow him into the kitchen just so happy to be here and be with him. You weren’t expecting to see him ever again. So, this is exciting. You’re not trying to hide that. You want him to know you’re happy to see him. 

“Did you have a good day yesterday after you dropped me off?” You ask as he grabs a cup and a decently priced bottle of whiskey and sets them next to each other. 

“I did. Groceries n’ normal bullshit. Had to get my laundry from the cleaners.” He explains. 

“You don’t do your own laundry?” You are slightly entertained by this for some reason. 

“Hell no.” Joel shakes his head and grabs ice from the freezer. “Haven’t done laundry since Sarah moved out.” He’s chuckling now as he puts the ice in the glass. 

“Did you… make her do your laundry before that?” You squint your eyes at him. 

“Hell no.” Joel says again but he laughs now. “I did mine n’ she did her own when she got old enough.” He laughs and pours whiskey into your glass half way and looks at you with a raised eyebrow. “Do you need… a coke or somethin’?” He says it with a wrinkled nose. You laugh at him. 

“Are you a whiskey snob? If y’are… I got a good story for ya… it’ll piss ya right off.” You smirk and lean against his counter. “I do want a coke.” You grin. Joel groans loudly and goes back to the fridge. 

“Let’s hear this good story, lil girl.” Joel rolls his eyes and doesn’t sound amused already. 

“You ever heard of The Reach—” You start but Mr. Miller finishes. 

“81? I sure have. Why? Y’know ‘bout it?” He pulls his head back from the fridge and stares at you with heightened eyebrows. 

“I do. Have you ever had it?” You ask curiously. Joel shakes his head no but stays quiet. “There is some back at my house– Cody is a huuuuuuge whiskey guy. I had no idea. None. Just thought it was like… expensive, ya know?” You nod at him and he nods back and then frowns before you can finish. 

“You put that into a Coke?!” Joel is so upset with you. So hurt, and so disappointed. 

“I didn’t know how much it cost!!” You exclaim.

“Almost more than my house!!” Joel almost shouts at you but it’s funny. “Jeeeeesus.” He shakes his head in disappoint again and pours Coke into his semi-expenisve whiskey and groans. 

“Oh god. Guys and their shitting on things girls like.” You sip your drink as he rolls his eyes. 

“I’d shit on anyone who did that.” Joel grumbles at you but is pulling you into the living room. He sits right beside you on the couch and hands you your laptop. “Let’s see these scary stories you’re talkin’ ‘bout.” He sighs and puts his feet up on the couch. He says it like you ran in here trying to show him this blog. So excited about it. You smirk and open the laptop. 

As the screen resumes the last internet browser page you were on… you snap the computer shut and do absolutely nothing else. Nothing. You freeze but you know what he saw. You were looking right at it… with him. So. You both know what you saw. He’s silent. It’s just very quiet minus the TV in the background. Finally, after so long of no talking and not even looking at him or moving, even… the man speaks. 

“What…what was that?” He asks very curiously. You’d be curious too, if you were him. You are dead on this couch. The first person to ever die of real embarrassment, honestly. You forgot what you did before you cried yourself to sleep in bed last night. What you used this computer for… You’re going to pass away right now. This is…not happening. No. Can’t be. 

There is no way that the last browser you had open on your computer was a fucking porn website. And… porn is so normal, Joel probably would have laughed about it with you but what you had in the search bar… and what you had pulled up on the screen wasn’t alarming or even unnatural. No, not at all. So natural. Two natural bodies. A man and a woman… 

The man… might look like Joel… a little bit. And the girl… might look like you… a little bit. The search bar definitely didn’t have the words ‘hot gray fifties man younger girl’ in there. No. It fucking can’t. You are trembling. He’s not going to see the search bar. No. Only you know what you typed in last night but the resemblance between those two actors and yourself and Joel are… uncanny. Honestly. You were… so excited when you found it– kind of nervous because for two seconds you thought Joel made a porn with you while you were sleeping. The two people were not you guys. Looked a lot like you guys though. Just enough differences and also too many fucking similarities for it to not do what you wanted it to do. So, that’s even more annoying. It didn’t even work. You were too upset about being not ghosted. So. You’re dumb and embarrassed. 

“Hey, what was that?” Joel asks after what feels like an hour of you just looking at your closed laptop. 

“N–”

“Don’t say nothin’.” Joel barely lets you even start. So. He knows. 

“What did it look like?” You ask, snapping your head to him now. He has the smallest smile on his face, leaned in trying to see the screen you snapped shut. You wonder right now if Cody would buy you a new laptop if you smashed this one. No. He wouldn’t. He’ll buy himself $125,000 scotch though. So. Cool. You swallow hard.

“Uh… it kinda looked like me?” Joel flicks his eyes between your closed computer and your almost tearful eyes. You’re not crying. Just haven’t blinked in eight minutes. 

“That’s crazy you think that.” Is all you can come up with because you’re stunned that this is happening to you right now. Joel shakes his head in bewilderment. 

“I know what I saw.” He points to the computer. “Open it.” 

“No.” 

It’s a standoff… a staring contest… a who can hold their breath the longest competition. You lose and blink first and when you do— Joel takes the computer from you, so quickly. You didn’t think that’s what he was going to do. You freeze and Joel freezes too, his hands are about to open it. 

“Do y’wanna show me yer’self or… do I need t’look?” Joel is smirking over at you. It might be less worse if the computer is in his lap and not right in front of you. You can at least not look then, feeling less shame for a moment until he shames you himself. 

“Do it.” You whisper, shielding your eyes from the monstrosity that is about to unfold. Nothing bad is going to happen. Nothing. You know this. It’s just going to fucking make him way to happy. Way too happy. Like when you told him your sex toys didn’t do what he did to you. UGH. 

“Y’sure?” Joel raises one brow at you. 

“I’ll… never open that computer myself.” You speak with no emotion because he’s already doing it. It takes three seconds for the screen to come to life. 

There it is. Joel’s fucking body double… railing some fucking twenty five year old. Hard. You turn away. You can’t look and see what he thinks of this. It’s too much. You hear the computer keys click and then the video starts to fucking play. Loudly. It’s…porn sounds. Moaning and skin slapping together. This guy is talking dirty. The girl is calling him daddy… You feel like you could throw up. 

“Damn.” Joel whistles after. “I don’t really watch porn but…this is good.” He speaks to the computer, apparently, because you’re facing the complete opposite direction now. You’re thinking about putting your hands over your ears, but Joel wraps his arm around your waist and pulls your back into his chest a little. “Watch it with me.” He whisper.

“I’m too embarrassed to be turned on.” You groan and close your eyes. 

“So… we’re not gon’ do nothin’ today. I have self-control. I can teach y’some if y’need me to.” Joel isn’t teasing when he says this. He’s so serious. It for some reasons calms your nerves and also offends you a little bit. 

“I have self control.” You roll your eyes but lean into him and put your head on his shoulder and reluctantly watch the screen of your laptop with him. 

“Ok.” Joel snorts at you but holds you against him when you try and move away. ��Tell me what you like ‘bout the way he fucks her.” Joel whispers into your ear quietly. You snap your head up to him with wide, questioning eyes. “I know why y’picked it… wanna know why y’kept watchin’...” Joel whispers again and his breath in your ear gives you goosebumps. You swallow hard again and watch the screen. 

Joel’s twin has your look-a-like on her knees with her chest pressed into the mattress. Her back is arched so dramatically that it looks like it might hurt, regardless, the guy in the video is…hammering into her and she is begging him to make her come and he keeps telling her no. He’s spanking her with some fucking sex thing. You dunno. It honestly looks like something that would come on the handle of a child’s bike. Buncha lil tassles! But!!! This one is leather and all black and he is… spanking her. 

“I like all of it.” You shrug your shoulders not wanting to say thing specific because you don’t wanna sound silly or inexperienced. Your answer isn’t enough for him. 

“You like how she’s layin’ on the bed?” He asks, holding his hand up to her like you cannot see. 

“Yeah, sure.” You nod and shrug your shoulder closest to him. He respires through his nose quickly and then points to how he’s holding on to her hips and slamming into her from behind. 

“Do you like that?” He sounds so curious to know if you really did like it, and almost like he knows you didn’t. But you did. 

“Yeah. He’s really givin’ it to her.” You whisper this now, because saying it in a regular volume feels dirty. When Joel speaks, he also whispers. 

“Do you like how he’s tellin’ her not t’ come?” Joel isn’t looking at the computer anymore, he’s looking right at you and you’re trying not to look at him. You shrug your shoulders and say nothing because that sounds horrible. Being denied a come??? No thanks. You’re good with coming freely whenever you want. “Why dontchya know, lil girl, tell me?” He coos to you softly and sweetly. 

“I dunno. Do you like being told not to come?” You do look up at him now and he’s already nodding.”

“Yeah.” Joel smirks a little. “Not always n’ not forever… but yeah.” He speaks in his normal tone again and looks back at the screen. He points with his finger to what the porn star has in his hand. “Do you like that ?” Joel looks back at you now. Emotionless. He doesn’t want you to know if he likes it or not. What a fucking ass. 

“I dunno. I’ve never… been spanked befo—” You’re casually explaining your inexperience to him when he cuts you off. 

“No one’s ever spanked you? Not even foolin’ around or nothin’?” Joel sounds shocked. You shake your head. 

“No, I just… I dunno.” You avoid his eyes. 

“S’wrong?” He closes the laptop and suddenly this has turned into a serious conversation. 

“Nothin’.” You’re just being shy. This is weird. You hate that he’s probably slept with thousands of women and you… are you. So. You’re feeling intimidated. 

“Tell me.” Joel pushes but not angrily or aggressively. He’s trying to figure you out. 

“I don’t even know what’s wrong! I’m just embarrassed.” You sink into his couch and rest your head back on his shoulder. 

“Of what!?” Joel points to the computer “That? Don’t be. That’s fuckin’ normal. Hot. Guy kinda looked like me, huh?” He says this like it’s supposed to comfort you. “You watch that last night? Missin’ me?” Joel whispers now and still speaks too comfortingly…almost condescendingly, but not quite there. It’s making your lower stomach flutter though. You nod silently. “Awhh ain’t the lil girl real sweet, you come?” He is grinning but whispering and still talking so nice.

“No.” You whisper. 

“S’how you wanna get fucked? Or y’watchin’ it ‘cause I told ya I liked it like that?” He asks softly, turning to speak against your forehead. 

“Lil of both.” You mewl quietly. Joel lets his head fall back against the couch and he sighs softly. “What’s wrong?” You pull your head off his shoulder and look at him. 

“Not one single fuckin’ thing.” Joel chirps happily and pulls you into him tighter. “Go n’ read yer’ scary st— or finish yer’ lil video if ya want.” Joel lifts his head and is grinning at you playfully. “Dirty Bird.” He pinches your side, puts your laptop on the couch beside him and stands up. 

“Where ya going?” You watch as he walks towards the kitchen. He holds up his empty beer bottle and then disappears. 

Holy fucking shit. You open your laptop and close out of that shit so quickly and open your blog. Oh god. That wasn’t too bad though. Pretty good actually. Kinda hot. You wonder if that’s a normal thing to do. Watch porn with the guy you wanna fuck. You don’t really want him looking at another naked woman… so… you dunno. Might not do it again.

Joel comes back with a joint behind his ear. He’s so fucking hot. Fuck. His jeans and his t-shirt. Shit. He said nothing’s happening tonight… why? You don’t ask. No. Enjoy this. Live in the moment. He sits down practically on top of you and looks at your laptop to see what you’re doing. 

“Okay… these are the spooky stories..” He nods his head and reads a couple words and then pulls his head back and looks at you. “That’s– uh.. That’s not spooky, babe. That’s a graphic description of someone bein’ murdered… it looks like.” Joel checks the screen again and then looks back at you. “Yeah.”

“It’s a true crime thing.” You explain. “It tells you al the horrible details of crimes that they normally leave out of the podcasts…” You nod sadly.  “I like reading though…so it’s not too bad.” You shrug. Joel is blinking at you. 

“Y’wanna know all this shit? It doesn’t make y’sad?” He is confused.

“I mean… sometimes ‘cause, yeah it is sad. It happened though– I dunno if that’s disrespectful but the lady who does this blog is always real nice. There are certain cases she won’t talk about ‘cause the families had said they don’t like when people do stuff like that.” You explain but Joel isn’t swayed. 

“Yeah… that’s kinda weird t’exploit someone’s murder.” Joel shrugs his shoulder. 

“She doesn’t make money. Those weird podcasters do. Not her though– at least I don’t thin. She’s never gotten a red cent from me. Never asks.” You shrug. 

“Eh, I don’t give a shit enough to argue with you ‘bout it.” He shrugs, kisses your cheek and watches the TV. You have to sit with that statement for about three minutes before you decide you also do not give a shit enough to care and don’t fight with him. 

Football is… fun? You dunno. Not a real fan. Some of the guys on his TV though are CUTE! What!? Jeeeesus and they’re just running around hitting each other? 

“Why don’t they do that all the time?” You ask, holding your hand to the TV. He doesn’t look away from the screen when he answers you. 

“Do what?” He is interested in the game. His team must be doing good or something. 

“Uhh– the sounds— the player sounds.” You nod and look over at him, ripping your eyes away from those men on the screen. 

“What’re y’talkin’ ‘bout? He still doesn’t look at you. 

“Okay, so they’re always talking. Blah blah blah– like we aren’t watching the fuckin’ game they’re talking about!? Stupid. Tony Romo’s voice is fucking annoying. I’d rather hear the players!!” You exclaim. 

“The players aren’t sayin’ nothing. They’re just gruntin’ n’ talkin’ shi-”Joel stops and looks over at your innocent face. 

“It’s better!! Better than Tony fucking Romo. Jesus.” You roll your eyes and go back to your blog. 

What a great time for Matt or as you put him in your phone as ‘matt cat cute tattoos’ decided to go ahead and text you. The message– as well as his name– pop up in the corner of your computer and you get a notification ding, a loud one. 

Looked cute yesterday. Wyd today?

As soon as you get it, Joel’s entire body stiffens besides you but he says nothing, doesn’t move. Nothing. You don’t know what to do. Bringing this computer into Joel’s home has been nothing but bad— just bad. It was bad at first..then kinda good again…now so bad. So, so bad again. Shit. Joel still doesn’t speak and you don’t know what to say so you just exit out of it– and then sit there. 

You watch the TV and the clock on the screen was at fifteen minutes when you looked and it stops so many times. So many times that clock stops and starts and they add time to it again once. It’s not until there are only two minutes left in the quarter that Joel speaks. 

“So… who is Matt?” He asks so casually. 

“Just a guy from the cat shelter.” You explain innocently. 

“Oh, gotchya.” He nods his yeah slowly, you can see him nodding out of the corner of your eye. “He that cute?” 

“Oh god.” you put your head in your hands. “I gave him my number yesterday after you dropped me off because I didn’t know if you like– really wanted anything to do with me.. Like actually? Ya know.” You don’t look at Joel because you are too scared.  “Kinda the same reason you liked Ava’s picture before we hung out that night.” 

“Yeah…I see what yer’ sayin’...” Joel sighs but he sounds like he has more to say. He does. “We had hung out though…” Joel is not looking at you either. You both are just speaking facing the TV on the wall in front of you. 

“I know…” You’re shaking and you wonder if he can feel your trembling body literally touching his. 

“Did you go see him last night?” Joel asks emotionless and now you turn to look at him because no you didn’t. Didn’t even think to text him because you had already forgotten about Matt. If you had even fucking remembered in your sadness… you might have gone to see him. 

“No. I didn’t.” You say so confidently and now he looks at you. “I swear I didn’t.” Your eyes scan all across his face and he stays emotionless, doesn’t smile…nothing. 

“Why?” He is still so calm. 

“What do you mean?” You’re stunned to say the least. What the fuck? Did he want you to? Is this a trick? You’re so confused and wanna know what the fuck is going on. 

“Why didn’t you go see him? I blew you off last night n’ you still didn’t go see him?” Joel asks, now a little curious.

“Blew me off?” You wrinkle your brow at him and he panics for half a second in his eyes and then goes back to being calm. 

“Didn’t call or text you.” He defines being blown off to you like you don’t know what the fuck it meant. 

“No. I know that… but I don’t think that’s what you meant to say. What happened last night?” You turn it around on him and wait for his response. 

“Tell me why you didn’t go see that guy and I will.” He pulls away from you a little and you do it too at the same time and read his face. You dunno. It’s just handsome Fucker. 

“No. Did you really forget your keys and phone in your brothers truck last night?” You ask quietly and Joel groans.  

Doesn’t matter. You’re off the couch and running up the stairs to get your stuff. He lied to you. Lied right to your fucking face and then continued to fucking lie. Are you kidding!? He’s chasing you, faster and with more desperation this time. You’re flying up the stairs and into his room. You cannot slam the door in his face because its his house and his bedroom so you run in and grab your stuff off the bed but he’s in the doorway when you turn around. Panting. 

“Move.” You snap at him but he shakes his head. “Then I think I’m officially being kidnapped or being held hostage and I will fight you off. I will fight you so hard.” You point at him but you will not fight him. He could kidnap you and you’d be fine with it. Unless he was with Ava. Then you’ll just kill him. Skip the fighting part. 

“No.” Joel shakes his head again. “Not fuckin’ kidnappin’ you. Grow up.” he snaps at you and is still panting. You roll your eyes. 

“Old!” You snap back at him. “Fuckin’--- just old! Fuck!” You are so pissed and do not know what you’re saying. 

“Stop it.” Joel waves his hand at you and pinches his brows together. 

“No. Tell me what happened.” You bobble your head from side to side and cross your arms over your chest with your bags still in your hand. You purse your lips together tightly. 

“Got more drunk at the bar with Tommy than I usually do, n’ he dropped me off. I just fell asleep ‘fore I could call you. Got in bed and had the phone right there in my hand…just passed out.” He sounds ashamed of himself. 

"That's same shit excuses the thirty year old's I stopped talking to would use. Awesome.” You roll your eyes and think about what Patti said. You’re not asking him shit and don’t care anymore. 

“We had just’ finished a big job the day before– bunch’a guys from work were there.” He shrugs his shoulders. 

“Why not just tell me that?” You press your lips together again. 

“‘Cause of what you just said. I don’t want you thinkin’ that’s the kinda guy I am.” Joel sighs. "We were just celebratin'. Made good money on that job. Drank more than normal."

“Well… now I think you’re a liar. So, that sucks. You could have just said that to me last night when we were texting. Could have just sent me 'At Bar'... I would have figured it out." You sigh loudly and work up the courage to try and leave even though you don't really wanna. You're gonna though. You’re leaving. Lyin’ aint your flavor baby! You don’t play that shit. No. You can deal with emotionally unavailable. You can deal with distant– love that apparently… but you won’t be lied to. 

“I’m not a liar– look.” Joel pulls his phone out and shows you the screen after he pulls up some bullshit. It’s a picture of him and his brother at the bar. Cool. Who cares. 

“Okay, I dunno that you came right here after. You were so quick to lie to me.. Which is what I have the real problem with– not you getting drunk. I don’t give a shit about that. I’m not dumb and naive.” You go to push past him through the door but he doesn’t budge. 

“C’moon.” He sounds sad but you don’t care. 

“No. You’re willing to fuckin’ lie to cover that shit up…something soooo stupid and meaningless.  Something I would have been mad about? Yeah I would have. But would have gotten over--- in a couple days! ‘Cause ya were honest with me. Not lying to get me to your house. Ugh. Fuckin’ gross.” You scoff. 

“You wanna go home?” Joel asks now in a very firm tone. You don’t. You were having so much fun before stupid Matt. Having fun pretending to watch football and snuggle with him!!

“Not really!! I was having fun!!” You exclaim in frustration.

“So stay!” Joel exclaims in matched frustration. “I just didn’t want you fuckin’ bitchin’ at me ‘bout my drinkin’ with my brother! Sorry!” He is still frustrated. 

“Um. No. That sounds stupid.” You roll your eyes at him. "Lie to me to keep me from being upset with you about something?"

“You really think Imma liar?” Joel sounds so hurt now and you see in his eyes that he actually is a little hurt by this. 

“Welp, seeing as you lied. Kinda.” You huff angrily. Joel rolls his eyes. That’s the straw on the camel's back right there. “Fuck you. How are you going to be annoyed? I told you the truth!” You snap at him. 

“Fuck you, too!” Joel snaps back for… no reason. Just said it to say it. It’s kind of cute but also incredibly annoying. “How do I know yer’ not lyin’ ‘bout going to see that guy. You lied to me about being a virgin that first night... told me ya weren't... why?” Joel flicks his eyebrows up to you. 

“BECAUSE I WAS ASHAMED!!?? DIDN'T THINK YOU'D WANNA SEE ME AGAIN IF I TOLD YOU!!??” You shout. Joel's shouting is much different from yours. Very loud. Much louder and deeper and bellowing. 

“SO WAS I!! SAME REASON!!” Joel shakes clenches his jaw tight. "I’m fuckin’ ashamed I got that drunk." Joel exclaims at you in frustration-- much softer now though. but then he just groans before he speaks again. "Fuuuuck. I hate this shit. Stupid shit.” Joel throws his hands up in the air and huffs. “I’m goin’ to watch football.” And then he marches his stupid ass right downstairs. You flick him off for two full minutes now that he is out of sight. He is kinda right. Sonofabitch. You hate when men are right. Hate it. You don’t even wanna go back downstairs. But you do. Joel is sitting where he had been before and doesn’t look at you when you come down– with no bags. You feel so uncomfortable. 

“Do you want me to stay?” You grumble. Joel snorts. 

“Do you want to?” He scoffs at you softly still looking at the TV.

“If you’re going to talk to me like that, no.” You roll your eyes. Joel flicks his head to you now, with soft eyes and small smirk... and pats his lap. “What?” You're confused. 

“C’moon.” Joel nods you over to him.

“You want me to come…sit on your lap?” You raise one eyebrow at him suspiciously. He silently nods. Then he beckons you again with another patting of his muscular thigh with his fucking big, strong, stupid hands. You say nothing and don’t even look at him as you shuffle to him. He holds your waist and sits you down on to him. The back of your thighs is right on top of his and you’re more on the couch than in his lap. He looks down at you and smirks. 

“I won’t lie t’ya anymore. I’m real sorry. Didn’t wanna look like n’ ass. N’ I did anyway.” He runs strong hand across your legs softly and scans your face. “N’ I believe y’didn’t go see that Matt fucker.” He grumbles his name and makes you chuckle. “Why’d ya think I wouldn’t want nothin’ t’do withya?” He’s somehow leaned in and now only inches from your face. How did this happen?

“I dunno– you’re kind of established n’ I’m not.” You whisper softly. “N’ I thought maybe all you wanted was... the only thing I got to offer.” You chuckle but there are other emotions brewing inside you. Shit. You’re not gonna cry. No. You will not. 

“Stupid.” Joel leans in and kisses you softly, his tongue flicks across your bottom lip but doesn’t enter your mouth or do anything else. You whine softly when he pulls away. “Football.” He nods his head to the TV. 

Fuck. He does have self control.

Joel leads you upstairs for bed later after locking all the doors and windows, checking the thermostat and making sure all the blinds were shut. You cant help but wonder if he does it ever night as a cute lil routine and now you are in love with him. No you’re not. Stop doing that. No. He’s a man and just regular. You keep telling yourself that as he walks you into his bedroom and pulls his shirt off over his head and tosses it in the hamper. 

“You got pjs or do you need something?” he asks, knowing you have a bag of clothes… he carried it in. 

“I have —” You’re trying so hard not to smile at him for no reason as he grabs a t-shirt from his dresser and tosses it on to the bed near where you’re standing. 

“You could use that if you wanted.” He’s being so serious. If he’s being cute and flirting he isn’t showing it as he works on his belt. Your body jolts into gear when you become fully aware that you’re just standing there staring at him. You pull your own shirt off and unclasp your bra around the back and let it slide down your shoulders and arms. You half expect Joel to be staring at you stupidly like an idiot, but he just walks behind you, brings his rough, strong calloused hand to your waist, squeezes softly and walks into the bathroom. 

You throw on his t-shirt and pull your shorts off and walk into the bathroom with your toothbrush feeling…so silly for some reason. You shouldn’t!! He wants you here. Gave you the stupid shirt without you asking. He knew you wanted it. Or he wanted you to have it… which was even cuter and made you even more nervous and feel even sillier. 

Joel hands you toothpaste as you stand in front of the vanity mirror. It’s a good mirror. You’re thinking about how good it would be to sit on the sink and pick at your face in this fucking thing while you brush your teeth. You might if you ever get an opportunity. You brush real good and follow Joel back into the bedroom, he waits for you at the door of the bathroom and extends his hand to you. To walk to his bed. Six feet away. You do not give one single fucking shit. He could hold your hand into the zombie apocalypse if he wanted. You’d let him lead you right into that shit. Fuck.

He pulls the sheets back for you and walks around the bed as you crawl in. 

“Hey.” He growls once he’s in bed. You’re so far away from him. There could be three more people in here. 

“Hi.” You have to speak with your real talking voice to make him hear you. 

“You could come closer.” He chuckles softly. 

“Why is it so big!?” You smirk at him as you have to take several hands and knees over to him. 

“I’m a big guy.” Joel shrugs. 

“Not this big!” You snuggle right up into him and now there is… still an entire queen sized bed left over where you had just crawled from. You giggle excitedly and wiggle around beside him. He is warm and perfect and smells like Joel and this is exciting. You're so happy to be here.

“What’re you wormin’ around fer?” Joel looks down at you, smirking. 

“I dunno. Just happy to be here, I think. Got the sillies or something.” You giggle up to him. “Do you not get in bed and get all excited to be in bed n’ snuggly next to someone??” You look up and him and suddenly feel kinda dumb but he doesn’t let you for long as he wriggles down beside you and wraps you up in his arms. 

“ Shiiit… no. I’m a grown man.” He sounds offended that you’d ask him that. “But you can squirm n’ worm all around next to me whenever ya’ want..” Joel chuckles and kisses the top of your head. 

“I got a cat yesterday. S’why I was at the cat shelter.” You whisper up to him. “Her name is Agatha Christie.” You add quickly after a second of silence. Joel tries and fails to stifle his laughter. 

“What!? Did you pick that name out? Poor cat.” He’s still laughing and jostling your whole body around as he laughs heartily. “Why’d ya get a cat?” 

“I’ve wanted one for a while.” You snap at him. “And her name is good!! I like spooky stuff… Agatha Christie wrote creepy detective books!! Death on the Nile!! So good!” You’re semi offended. Joel rubs his hand all along your back and shoulders. You're running your hand all across his soft n' smooth stomach except for a lil trail of hair that leads down into his boxers. He's so soft n' pudgy but firm and tight at the same time. You wanna run your tongue all along him. Shit. Talking about cats. Fuck. Okay.

“Issa good name fer’ you. Yeah, yer’ right.” Joel is still chuckling. 

“I didn’t even name her that!” You poke him in the sides and he grabs your wrist gently. 

“I’ll spank you into next week. Don’t.” He growls it. 

“Next week? For a poke? Seems excessive…” You roll your eyes at him but, you want him to. Want to poke his soft and pudgy and perfect tummy. It's calling for you.

“Don’t…” Joel is warning you. 

“Are you super ticklish?” You’re not going to tickle him…because you don’t like being tickled. Hate it even though it...tickles and makes you laugh.

“Just don’t.” He sighs loudly and lets your wrist go. It was never tight to begin with. You just like him holding onto you.

“Fine.” You feign annoyance as you kiss his shoulder softly. He sighs softer now and rubs your back gently again. 

“Roll over.” Joel whispers quietly. You do exactly as he says and might never question him ever again. He molds himself into your back and ass and his legs are pressed into yours. He is engulfing you. His mouth is right beside your ear now. “Glad you stayed.” He murmurs softly. 

“Me too.” You breathe out softly. 

“I’m gon’ tease both of us a lil now, don’t get too worked up, ‘kay Cricket?” He snickers so softly in your ear as he pushes his groin into your ass softly. “Love teasin’...” He keeps speaking as he grinds against you. “Feels fuckin’ good, don’t it?” His voice is so soft and if his cock wasn’t getting hard against you, you’d fall asleep he’s so calm and soothing. 

“Yeah…” You sigh because it’s all you can do. His hand is moving all across your stomach and down between your legs for… milliseconds. It makes you groan and him chuckle each time. His strong fingers pinch and tug at your nipples softer than the first time he touched them. 

“You like this? Want me t’stop?” He kisses behind you ear gently and then breathes out against you as he works his cock into the V between your closed legs and pussy. “Shit.” Joel chokes it back and pushes into you harder. You can feel his searing hot length against the skin of your inner thighs and through the fabric of your panties. “I gotta stop.” He chuckles but does not. 

“Keep going.” You whisper to him and pause for a moment. “Please?” You really want him to keep going…you’re not really sure why. It doesn’t feel like much of anything to you other than something hot and hard between your legs. “Don’t stop… Mr. Miller.” You bite your bottom lip and cringe and how awkward you are and then Joel reacts to this.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He spits the words out and pulls you back against him even tighter, his forearm between your breasts and now his hand is around your neck softly, he’s breathing into your ear. “What did you say?” He whispers but there is force behind this whisper. 

“Please don’t stop, Mr. Miller.” You whimper softly as his hand tightens around your throat. “I’m sorry?" You’re kinda scared because this giant man has his hand around your throat… but is still doing whatever it is he’s doing between your legs. Fucking your thighs? Dunno. He’s still doing that but faster now. And choking you moderately. 

“Fuckin’ naughty, lil girl.” His voice is so deep, fuck. Okay. Is he mad? 

“Do you really like that?” You ask nervously but his body is already telling you that he does… his voice is saying.. Maybe? His hand leaves your throat and his body stops moving against yours. 

“What’d I do?” he holds his hands up and freezes. You look at him over your shoulder and he’s panting, sweating a little, but looking at you fearfully. “M’sorry fer’ whatever it was…” 

“What? You didn’t do anything..” You blink at him. He blinks back at you. 

“Huh? Then what’re you talkin’ ‘bout ‘cause I love all that.” Joel sighs softly and relaxes. 

“Me calling you Mr. Miller?” You raise your eyebrow at him. Joel snorts and lays back in bed. 

“Uh…yeah. I fuckin’ do.” Joel shakes his head. “S’fuckin’... I dunno. I dunno why I like it. Yer’ the first woman t’ever call me that in bed...damn... I liked it though fer' some reason.” Joel sighs loudly. “Sorry. I ain’t mean fer’ it t’go that far. I snuck right outta my boxers.” He rubs the sweat off his forehead and looks over at you. “Y’like all that?” 

“You weren’t mad at me?” You’re still blinking a little. Joel looks like he’s replaying the last four minutes in his head to think if you did something to make him mad.

“No.” He says after a moment and then looks over at you. “What’d I do t’make y’think that?” 

“Uh… choked me? Sounded real mad?” You gawk at him. 

“Didn’t like bein’ choked?” 

“Well now that I know you’re not mad at me… I think I did? I dunno. Let’s do it again.” You suggest eagerly but he just laughs. 

“Nah, ‘cause then it wouldn’t be teasin’.” Joel shrugs his shoulders. 

“That is terrible.” You groan. “Don’t like teasing.” You whine and then face the other way again, annoyed. 

“Lose yer’ attitude, lil Bird.” Joel spanks your ass softly over the blankets. “T’cute to be all ‘tudinal.” 

“I thought you liked a bratty lil girl.” You mock him gently and smirk, getting comfortable in the bed next to him.

He chuckles beside you and rubs the fat of your ass over the blankets now. “Yeah… I do.” Joel sighs loudly and rolls back over to be behind you again. “Goin’ t’sleep now, really.” Joel kisses behind your ear and the the back of your shoulder and the top of your head. His arm drapes over your side and then it’s quiet. 

You’re too excited to sleep!? What!? Why did you not feel this way the last two times? You slept fine. Mr. Miller!! This sonofabitch gets you all horny for thigh fucking and then is sleeping behind you first? Unfair. Not cool. Okay….without that real loud fan from your place…his snoring is kinda loud. Real loud. Right in your ear loud. Is he being so fucking for real right now? This has to be a joke. 

No. 

He is so fucking for real. And the man…sleeps like he might be dead. If it wasn’t for the snoring…you’d think he was how he reacted to literally nothing you did. He had to be faking and pretending. You eventually weasel your way back across this football field sized bed and…the snoring isn’t too bad over here. Still kinda loud. You’ll be fine. You’ve slept through worse. Fighting parents (screaming dad) all night sometimes. This is nothin’. 

It was not nothing.

tag list: @immyowndefender @korikolove @untamedheart81 @fanficlover1414 (i'll add or take you off, just let me know!)

[newpathwrites]

I Love it All (Din x f!reader)

“My body is just so…” you closed your eyes, disgusted with yourself. “It’s so… soft… and saggy… literally everywhere…”

He huffed in response, clearly expressing his disagreement. “You mean you’re middle aged…”

Summary: You’re unhappy with your body, and Din is having none of that.

Notes: I don’t know if this is any good - I got this idea and wrote it in a rush instead of working on my WIPs 🤫. It was supposed to be a chaste thing, but for some reason I couldn’t stop it from heading the sexy route. I’m still not very comfortable writing smut, so this is very vague and nondescriptive, and I may have rushed a bit through those parts. This is absolutely not my best work, but I’m trying to follow the advice of all those reassuring Tumblr posts and put it up here, anyway.

Warnings: Non-descriptive sexual content, negative thoughts about one’s body.

Word Count: 1.1k

Read on AO3

Main Masterlist

————————————————————

“Why are you so focused on my worst features?”

Din froze, hand halting its gentle exploration over the skin of your stomach, eyes searching your face.

“What does that mean?” he asked in an unexpectedly dark tone.

Did you really think any of your features were anything less than perfect?  Or did you think he believed so?  That idea was downright offensive.

“It’s just…” you started hesitantly.  “Your hands always seem to gravitate toward the ugliest parts of me…”

“You have no ‘ugly’ parts, Cyar’ika,” he replied quickly.

“We both know I do…”

He looked at you with a mixture of concern and confusion.  “I do not… I think every inch of you is perfect.”

“Well, maybe you only think that because it’s me…”

“Yeah.  Is that not the same thing?”

Stars.  He could be so sweet sometimes without even trying, but he was missing the point.

“You know what I mean, Din,” you sighed, pulling the robe tightly around your body, clearly trying to hide yourself.

“I really don’t, actually.”  His hand snaked around your shoulder to rub your back over the fabric.  “Explain it to me.”

“My body is just so…” you closed your eyes, disgusted with yourself.  “It’s so… soft… and saggy… literally everywhere…”

He huffed in response, clearly expressing his disagreement.  “You mean you’re middle aged…”

You opened your eyes to look at him.  “It’s not attractive.  Don’t try to tell me it is.”

“Alright, look,” he began, pulling your hands away from the fastenings of your robe and exposing your upper half.  “I appreciate the softness…a lot...”  He squeezed once before running his fingers over your breast, thumb passing over your nipple and eliciting a small gasp. “Sure, you look a little different now than fifteen years ago, but… I like that we’ve aged… it means we managed to survive this long together…”

You craned your neck up to kiss him once in agreement.  “That is true, but…”

He cut you off abruptly with his mouth once again on yours.  “Let me finish, Cyare.  I’ve got your whole body to cover here.”

He didn’t wait for a response before adjusting your bodies so that you lay flat on your back below him.  He peeled off your robe entirely and ran his mouth down your neck and chest while gently groping your breasts.

And then he moved on, kissing down your abdomen until he reached the soft rolls of your stomach.  “It makes me happy to see that you’re not skin and bones like you were when we met.  We’ve done well for ourselves - we’ve never gone hungry since, and we should be proud of it.”  He ran his hand softly over your stomach.  “This is evidence that you’re healthy and nourished, and it’s beautiful on you.  I’d like to remind you that I have plenty of this, too.”

He smirked as he laid his lips there, and you allowed a small giggle to escape.  It was true - and you loved that little bit of fat he’d accumulated there.

His mouth continued down until he reached the band of your underwear, eyes looking up at you for permission.

You nodded, and he peeled them down your legs.  “You worry about this, too… don’t you?” he questioned as he ran his fingers through the soft curls of hair there.

You looked mildly but genuinely pained as you responded with mock despair, placing a dramatic hand over your eyes.  “Even my vulva is sagging, Din!”  

He laughed.  At least your mood had improved.  “It’s just aging, Cyar’ika.  A similar part of me is sagging, too.”

Your eyes sparkled with amusement.  “It’s not the same.  Those sag at baseline…”

He laughed again as he lowered himself to the floor at the foot of the bed, kneeling as he pulled your body closer to the edge of the mattress..

“I love all of it exactly as it is.  Okay?”

You nodded.  He’d made his point.

But he was not done.  His fingers had continued to caress the sensitive skin there, heightening your slowly building arousal.  

He placed light kisses on your thighs, purposely focusing on the parts he knew you disliked, hoping to prove to you that he really did care for every part of you, wrinkles and sags and all.

Meanwhile, his thumb found the most sensitive part of you as he reluctantly pulled his mouth away to move back up to the head of bed.

You immediately reached for his face, kissing him deeply through whimpers of pleasure.  “I like your sagging parts, too…”

His chuckle was soon replaced by a low groan as your own hands clumsily reached down into his sleep pants to return the favor.  

Your efforts were uncoordinated as you fought his clothing, but as the waves of your orgasm abated, he took it upon himself to kick off the offending items, readying himself over you.

“Slow,” you told him emphatically as he filled you.  “I want to tell you everything I love about you, too.”

“If you say so…” he huffed with strained humor.

You reached up to run your hands through his curls as you spoke against his mouth, delighting in his slow and gentle movements.  “You’re self-conscious about the gray… and the creases on your forehead… and the patches in your beard, but it all looks so good on you, Din.  You’ve only gotten more handsome with age.”

He could only groan against your lips.  He wasn’t sure he believed that, but stars did he appreciate that you thought so.

“And your scars - they tell your story, and I’ll never tire of tracing them to remember that you came out on the other side to me.”  Your fingers found the well-healed gash on his neck.  He hated that one in particular, but you loved it because he survived.

You were becoming a bit breathless now, too, the pleasure building again as he kept to your instruction to go slow.  It was a wonderful kind of torture.

“And that little roll of fat on your stomach… I’m the only one privileged to even know it exists… and I love that…” you said between small gasps.

He was really straining with effort now, your words having their intended effect.  His forehead pressed against yours as his thrusts became a bit more forceful even at this languid pace.  “I don’t think I can hold back anymore, Cyar’ika…”

“Then don’t, love.”

This was one of your favorite parts of him - the one that allowed himself to lose control with you.

No more words were spoken as you moved together at a more steady rhythm, and the release was that much more incredible because every bit of self-consciousness about your aging bodies had melted away in the process.

“Do you really like my scars?” he whispered against your neck when he finally went slack against you.   Ah, so he was insecure, too.

You pulled back to look at this face, smiling adoringly.  

“I love your scars.”

____________________

Thank you for reading!

[babsvibes]

4 🤩🫶🏻

For the Bob’s Burgers prompt game, I… may have accidentally finished a WIP for this prompt: Erotic Friend Fiction

Tina-Novela

Tina shifted her weight in the red pleather booth and wondered again why Louise called a meeting with her in the restaurant. Typically about this time, her younger sister would be fixing Fischoeder messes or telling her consultants to pull their heads out of their collective asses. Instead, they sat across from each other, Louise’s heavy bag dropped onto the table in between them just moments before.

“Tina, you know that I’ve always been a big supporter of your works,” Louise began, folding her hands in front of her, eyes closed.

“You have?”

“I read all of your stories, don’t I?”

“You do??” Tina asked and broke away from the forebodingly stuffed satchel to stare wide-eyed at Louise, who only shook her head at Tina’s doubt.

“Obviously. It feels like we’re kids and I’m back stealing your diary. Reading it gives me a peek into your life. Or whatever.”

“My life…?” Tina shuffled in her seat and quirked her head just barely, hoping to indicate a passable measure of innocence. “But this isn’t friend fiction. All of the characters and settings in my books are completely fictional.”

“Really?” Reaching into her bag, Louise retrieved a paperback and displayed it with two hands so that Tina could read the title. The artwork beneath it showed three oil painted figures expressing devotion to each other. “The Raven, the Dancer, and their Zek? All you did was leave off the E, T.”

“Heh. ET. And the book is an alien romance. Good one.”

“I’m not done.” She pulled out another copy. “Published a while after a certain sibling and a certain high school heartthrob had a little fling. A Jean Jacket for Jenny.”

“I thought the title was clever…” Tina ran a finger over one of her prouder novels. Her first lesbian romance had been a huge hit. “I can’t believe you actually bought copies. Louise, that's really nice.”

“Which brings me to my next point.” Louise grew serious and deadly. “I wasn’t a fan of your latest work.”

Oh. Oh no.

Louise heaved the last book from her bag, letting it clunk onto the table with an accusatory thud. Staring back at Tina was a title she had hoped her younger sister would never see.

The Longing of Lisa.

“Uhhh,” Tina scrambled to think of something, anything, to distract her. “What did you not like about it?”

“You know, the title could have really used some- the characters! Tina! And who you based them off of!” During her tirade, Louise shoved the bag and the rest of the books out of the booth, sending them careening to the ground in a violent hurry. Post-lunch rush, the thud of paperbacks against the floor echoed in the empty restaurant.

“That was… Mom and Dad. Linda. Lisa.” She averted her gaze as though it was possible to hide behind the thick frames of her glasses. “Both have the s- same letters in them.”

“So which part of Bob made Landon?”

“Uhh,” Tina groaned then finished meekly, “the O?”

“It’s Logan, Tina. There is a whopping one letter difference. You put me and my rival in a suspense monster romance. You Thriller’d me!”

“I was experimenting with the genre, and I needed different characters. That doesn’t mean it’s you two though.”

“Oh is that so?” Louise flipped the book open. “There’s an entire section where the plot stops because Landon keeps trying to take Lisa’s beret. Also, a beret? Really?”

“If I wrote her with a bandana, then you’d know it was you.”

“Ah HA! You admit it!” After slamming the table with her fists, Louise composed herself, folding her hands together and releasing a deep breath. “Tina, we’ve known each other a long time now. You’re like a sister to me.”

“That’s because.. we are… sisters…” Tina said getting quieter on every word as Louise continued to berate her.

“So I’m having trouble coming to terms with you treating me this way. I’ve been good to you. I’ve helped the family business. I babysit sometimes. I’ve never once forgotten your birthday. And you turn around and write werewolf smut about me and my arch nemesis. I’M not even the werewolf?! What the fuck, T.”

“Hey now hold on. There wasn’t actual smut. I did a very tasteful fade to black that pissed off my editor but ultimately made the cut.”

“Also,” Louise continued to rant, “what’s up with us only using last names? I call him by his name all the time.”

“Oh that’s just, uh, a thing people like.”

A storm of nitpicks, clarifying questions, and accusations swarmed around Tina, who could barely get a word in edgewise.

Louise didn’t seem like the type to know these kinds of tropes or thematic questions. But she also wasn’t supposed to know about this book, so there was a lot Tina could be wrong about.

Apparently, Louise had really read it. In depth even.

Tina would be touched if she wasn’t so worried about being murdered.

But what was she supposed to say? Hey, you don’t see the looks he gives you when you’re not paying attention. Or, can you tell how much time you spend with him because you two just keep “happening” to run into each other?

Tina wanted to live long enough to be a grandmother one day.

“And all of that to say, no. There is nothing going on between me and Logan, there never will be anything going on between me and Logan, and if I EVER catch you writing us into one of your little curse breaking true love’s kiss scenarios again I will teach your kids how to smoke.”

“They’re four and six??”

“Did I stutter?!” Louise, chest heaving, closed her eyes and took a long, composing breath. She straightened her bandana, then fixed Tina with a look. “Just… say you’re sorry, and we can put this behind us.”

“… No.”

The customers stopped eating.

The ceiling fans stopped spinning.

The fryer stopped bubbling.

Louise broke the silence, grinding her teeth together with a twitching eye.

“... What?”

“I said no,” Tina repeated, crossing her arms. “You two have something worth writing about, I felt inspired by your chemistry, and I told a good story. I have nothing to apologize for. It’s not my fault you can see what’s right in front of you.”

Louise drummed her fingers against the table, slow and pointed. Her other hand tightened around the book.

“Do you remember… that brief period where we were both teenagers at the same time?”

“You can try to tear my hair out all you want,” Tina said, flashbacks to their more violent outbursts replaying in her mind. “I’ll still just twist your arm around.”

“So you DO want to fight, huh? You want to fight?”

“Bring. It.”

Saved by the bell, a jingling from above the door interrupted the bare knuckle brawl before it could really begin.

Though Louise probably wasn’t a fan of who entered.

“Oh goooood,” Logan drawled. He lazily saluted at Tina but focused his attention on Louise. “You’re here. Feed me, Burger Woman.”

“Do you want me to put up posters?” Louise snapped.

He paused, tilting his head with a question. “A wanted poster?”

“No, a missing poster. For your goddamn mind because you’ve obviously lost it.”

Caught up in their banter, neither noticed Tina slinking off, taking out her notebook and jotting notes for her next piece.

[shes-an-oddbird]

WIP Wednesday - The Suncatcher

Thank you @annoyingcloudearthquake for tagging me! I've been working on this fic for actual years now, since the end of season 3, and I'd really love to finish it as a sort of thank you now that the show is ending. Unfortunately it's one of those fics that has grown out of control and has multiple main characters, alternating povs and is nowhere near done but I made fun little moodboards for each character to help motivate me to finish and thought I would share them and a little snippet with each. Fair warning the story was inspired by my niche obsession with Cirque du Soleil and an odd fascination with Las Vegas.

Summary: When a wealthy group of investors decides to save a struggling Las Vegas hotel, The Suncatcher, former performers Owen and Tommy are asked to revive their first Cirque show and turn it into the must-see attraction on the iconic strip. Together they recruit a misfit group of artists who deserve a second chance at the high-flying circus life and are determined to put on the best show they can even when they run into obstacles around every corner.

Neon - A Night in Las Vegas TK Strand - The Visitor - Aerial Straps/Duo Straps Artist

'The sun sets and a first time visitor falls in love with the heart of the city itself '

He passes Jonah’s door and moves towards the kitchen, stopping again when he hears voices.

“So what do you think?” To TK’s surprise it’s his dad’s voice. He didn’t even know his dad was in town.

“I think-I think you ask very good questions Owen Strand.” His mom answers. “I mean I have complete faith that he could do it, physically he’s there, mentally he’s there – “

“But – “ His dad asks and the long pause that follows makes his gut twist uncomfortably. But what?

“Emotionally I think he’s getting there,” Gwyn finally says, “Alex may have set him back a little bit.”

Alex? Why would they be talking about Alex? Why were they talking about him at all?

“Doing a show would get him out of New York, might be good for him, a way to move on?”

“Yes, but to do a show in Las Vegas of all the places, and a love story at that, especially this love story.” His mom reasons, pouring out all her concerns at once.

He hears a small amused scoff from his dad. “He’s a grown man Gwyn, surely he’s come to terms with the divorce by now.”

“I’m sure he has but it’s a bit more complicated than that, he’s always loved love but it’s never been very kind to him in return.”

“Maybe this time it will be.” Owen urges. “It’s an opportunity to start over, to try again.”

There is a long pause. TK debates whether he should round the corner to the kitchen, back track to his room or stay put in hopes of more information. His dad was talking about a show. It had been a long time since he performed although he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to get back at it. Nothing really compared when your old day job title could be simplified to circus performer.

“He always did love Neon, it would be nice for him to have that back.” Her voice is wistful now but his gut clenches once more at the name.

Neon. As is Neon, Neon. The old Cirque show he’s spent hours of his young life absorbed in? The show where his parents fell in love both in real life and in front of the audience every night? They wanted him to be a part of that Neon.

“So you think I should ask him?” Owen asks.

“I think you already did, good morning TK.” TK flinches. She knew he was there the whole time. He’s not surprised, his mom always could see through walls, but damn does he wish he could have had a minute longer to process everything.