#you doubt yourself. instead of doubting them
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Too many nights ((G)I-dle Yuqi)
The way you see it, even if the signs were right in front of you all along—written in bright, colorful signposts with the largest text imaginable—you’d still be hurling yourself off that cliff.
Yuqi knows this too—you think she does.
At the very least, she looks convincing enough that she feigns innocence on the matter, and she is. It's mainly a you problem. She doesn’t know you much other than being the sweet, quiet guy who was her roommate in college and nothing else.
And that’s probably the reason why she’s standing in front of your newly minted apartment on a random Monday.
—————
You’re waiting for her to pick her bags off the floor and leave. You told her to leave three times. Threaten to call security on her. She doesn’t budge. Instead, she stares. Stubborn, obstinate, unyielding.
“Please, give me one opportunity. Please let me explain myself.” Yuqi finally breaks her silence, eyes wide, glinting with tears, pleading.
“Shoot.”
She looks down, unable to see you eye to eye, her hands running through the pockets of her skirt. “You’re right. I’ve taken your kindness for granted, and I’m sorry. I really am.”
Pausing, you’ve never heard her sound this quiet, this personal. “I never truly appreciated you till I was home with my parents. I should have focused more on studying than going out and having fun. Now look. They’re pissed that I’m being a bum at home instead of working, so they kicked me out.”
She proves your theory to be true. She has no reason to be here unless you bail her out of trouble again.
“But I can’t find one job that I like. Working a 9-5 or any regular cashier job seems so boring, you know what I mean? Doesn’t feel like my type of thing to do,” she continues, lightly kicking the suitcases with her feet. “My friends are all busy, so I had no one to lean on. Then I remembered you! So here I am.”
At least it was nice seeing Yuqi act mature for at least three minutes before reverting to her usual spry, childlike personality.
“Okay? Well that’s on you for being lazy, and I can’t help with that. Sorry to hear you got kicked out, but I have nothing to offer you. It was great seeing you, though. Good luck with that job.”
You try closing the door, but she stops it with her foot. Peeking through the narrow space, you find Yuqi persistent, unrelenting. “Wait. Hear me out for a second, I said I didn’t wanna be your roommate.”
“No, Yuqi. Just go—”
“I really need you right now. I’ve already applied to like five different companies on public wifi, it’s so fucking slow and I doubt they even got my email. I just need a place to stay for like a month. Trust me, I’ll get a job and when I get paid, I’ll spend it on finding my own apartment! Just give me this one time.”
You swear you’ve never heard Yuqi this desperate, this loud. Your neighbors are probably ringing up security right now, maybe the owner too.
“Okay, okay. Just calm down for a minute, will you? Our neighbors are listening.” You open the door lightly and Yuqi’s eyes light up. You didn’t even say yes, but it might as well be a confirmation to her.
“You promise? You’re actually working on a job application?” you ask, doubtful about her claim.
“Of course.” Yuqi shows her phone, presents pdf files of multiple application letters to the very places she doesn’t want to work. Some fastfood chains, at convenience stores, and mall outlets. “None of them have replied back, so—I’m still trying to apply to more places, but I’m almost out of data on my plan and I don’t wanna spend another night inside my car. Just give me this one thing? Okay?”
Seeing the evidence firsthand, you can’t help but be impressed. If you had any spine, you’d contemplate the proposal more, give it some time to mellow out, maybe let her elaborate some terms of agreement. But in a moment of weakness, you yield right away. What’s one month of Yuqi gonna do to you?
“All right, fine. I’ll let you stay—”
“I owe you one, thank you, thank you, thank you!” Yuqi doesn’t even let you finish your sentence when she brings her suitcases into your apartment at record speed. She gives you a peck on the cheek in appreciation twice, one for each pair of suitcases she shuffles in.
You can only sigh in response before closing the door.
—————
Before Yuqi gets comfortable in her new place, you sit her down on the living room couch to discuss house rules. This isn’t like college, where you share a dorm together, split the bill and have personal spaces. While you don’t own the apartment, you make one thing very clear: she’s bound to you and whatever rules you impose on her.
“Let’s make one thing and one thing clear: you break any of my rules, you’re outta here. I don’t care if you explain yourself, you’re gone. Understood?”
“Right.” Yuqi’s trembling with excitement and impatience, nodding erratically, kicking her legs up, goading you into rushing through everything so she can lay on an actual bed.
You take a moment to analyze her suitcases in the middle of the room. Facing her, you ask cautiously, “Tell me you didn’t bring your—”
“Yep!” She responds almost immediately, thrilled to answer your question, as if it were muscle memory. “It’s exactly what you think it is.”
And there goes your supposed rule one. Of course she brought her entire dorm room decor along. Knowing her, they’re likely encompassing two of her suitcases.
“Yeah, no. My landlord is quite strict about decor, so you can’t put them up,” you tell her bluntly; there’s no getting around his rule, even if your roles were swapped.
She frowns, visibly devastated, probably more hurt than being kicked out by her family. It’s the end of the world, but she won’t give in. If there’s even a slight possibility she can have her way, she will force herself through. “Please? Even just my room—”
“Not a chance. It’s just a general rule here, sorry.” You make sure to shut her down immediately. “I didn’t make that rule, anyway. Blame the owner.”
Yuqi acquiesces. She groans with displeasure, crossing her arms, acting bratty. No act can convince you to change your mind.
“Right. Now actual ground rules. This isn’t a dorm so you can’t just freeload as much as you want. Now I understand you're still working on that job application, so all I’m asking is just for you not to be completely messy, got it? So don’t eat my leftovers without asking, don’t go out to clubs and ask me to drive you home when you’re drunk, none of that. If you’re drunk, sleep outside the room. I don’t want to clean up vomit on the carpets.”
Surprisingly, Yuqi agrees without complaint. You’re unsure whether she’s nodding so she can settle in, or if she actually understood every single word.
“I seriously hope you’re working on that job—”
“Don’t worry! Just give me the wifi password and I’ll be set.” Yuqi can’t help but interrupt you every single time, and to her credit, it’s effective. She does seem dead set on taking this opportunity to redeem herself, and it’s a convincing act. As insufferable as she can be at times, you want to see her succeed. You want to see her win.
You jot down the wifi password on an extremely thin sheet of paper and place it on the table before her. Before walking away, you ask her, “You need me to help with your belongings? I’ll get the guest room ready while you make yourself comfort—”
“Nah, it’s fine!” Yuqi’s typing on her phone, not even shooting you a look in your direction. “I’ll get it sorted out, don’t worry! Just pretend I’m not here.”
To her credit, she does get her belongings sorted out. By evening, she moves into a cleared out storage room that’s now her designated bedroom. Words are hardly exchanged other than simple pleasantries and greetings. You ask her if she had dinner, she says yes. She doesn’t take anything from the fridge other than some water. There’s a knock on the door; she answers and comes back with a package of chinese food. She offers to share some, but you modestly decline.
You never ate together when you shared a dorm in college. She would eat her inside her bedroom or after you already cleaned up. At times, she’d come back to the dorm late and you wouldn’t see her till the following day. You share the same space but you have vastly different lives. The feeling is familiar, but the setting is new: having dinner under the low light, uncertain about your futures.
This feels like your first day together all over again.
—————
The first night with Yuqi is a quiet affair. There’s hardly any commotion. An unusual scene. She finishes her food ahead of you then retreats into her bedroom without uttering a single word.
When you wake up the next morning, Yuqi is already at the dining table. Browsing her laptop, coffee in hand, seemingly focused on that next job application. She doesn’t even greet you or acknowledge your existence; she’s in her own world, but in a good way.
“Morning,” you quietly say, trying to grab her attention, but it falls on deaf ears.
“You off to work?” she asks, preceded by a mouse click while you pour onto your mug. Her attention remains glued to the screen, paying you no heed.
“Kind of?” You take a seat opposite Yuqi’s side on the table. “I work here. Or should I say: this is my workplace.”
“Wow. I wish I could work from home. Would be nice,” she replies between mouse clicks and keyboard taps.
You take a light sip of your coffee. “What course did you take again?”
“Umm—” Yuqi slumps back in her chair, “I think it was medicine? I wanted to become a guitarist and have my own band, but my parents wanted me to become a doctor. And I don’t wanna ruin my handwriting, so—”
“Don’t you have a band with your friends? The one with—”
“Yeah that dream died two years ago.” Yuqi’s eyes squint, brows furrowing, running through every word slightly faster than normal. “And I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Not even a little—”
“No.” She faces you with a surprisingly cold glare, a sight you’ve never seen before. “They can just fuck off—those goddamn bitches.”
You find yourself unable to move the conversation forward after her abrupt turn. It’s probably for the best; you hardly paid any attention to Yuqi’s life to be entitled to a substantial explanation.
The rest of the hour goes by in deafening, awkward silence. Here’s Yuqi, this ball of energy whose life primarily revolves around partying and getting rowdy, calmly clicking on the touchpad and typing a few words every now and then in search of a way to fund her addiction. You can tell from her sullen expression just how deprived she is of that high—how incomplete she feels without the rush of adrenaline, ecstasy, and alcohol flowing through her veins. It’s impressive how it takes someone to hit rock bottom to turn their life around, how all this could have been avoided with a few decisions.
Still, it’s never too late for someone like her, and as long as she holds up her end of the deal, i.e. leave you for good after this, you’ll actively root for her success.
—————
“Fucking hell, dude,” sighs Yuqi, slamming the panel of her laptop hard, her fist narrowing missing the edge of the table. While you’ve made yourself comfortable at your usual workplace, a spacious office desk on the other side of the living room, you’re preoccupied scanning through numerous documents and emails your boss sent you. A look at the bottom right of the screen tells you it’s half past lunch. Then your stomach grumbles, as if the clock wasn’t enough of a reminder.
“Gonna make lunch,” you say to a vexed Yuqi, who’s stretching her legs against the table and her arms to the ceiling, body likely aching from her hunched position. “You good?”
“Yep.” Her tone perfectly toes the line between sincerity and sarcasm. “Got three rejections—no, four, actually. The last one was sent minutes ago.”
You’re not sure how to respond.
“Oof.”
You couldn’t relate to her even if you tried. Of the two applications you sent, your current job is the one that gave you the freedom and flexibility to work from home, even if it paid less than the other. That was six months ago; finding job opportunities has become way harder, or so you’ve heard from your other unemployed peers from college.
“Finding a job sucks,” says Yuqi, stating the obvious. She finally gets up from her chair, brings her laptop back into her bedroom to charge before reemerging with a hairpin wrapped around her knuckles, tying it around her loose red hair. “So, what’s for lunch?”
“Meatloaf and eggs,” you reply, firing up the stove as you grab pans from beneath the sink. “Not sure if you’ll like it, though.”
She lifts her eyebrows, intrigued, but mostly unbothered. She’ll eat anything as long as it isn’t fast food or from the convenience store, and she doesn’t have the gall to complain, anyway, as your roommate.
—————
“So, how’s the job hunting going?” you ask her right as the sun descends over your apartment windows. You have your schedule down to a science, finishing all intended projects and goals when neighboring buildings’ lights open. Weekdays can’t be anymore mundane and monotonous, but you get the job done, you’re paid handsomely, and you have time for your other hobbies.
Meanwhile, Yuqi looks like she doesn’t want to stare at a computer screen for a week, maybe a month. She looks worse off than she did in the morning. It’s evident in her clothes, her hair, her face: frazzled and messy. A perfect representation of her state.
“What do you think?” she replies, never sounding so heated, so frustrated. A look at her screen shows a new rejection letter, piled between several others, already read. Each one with different reasons, different ways to hurt, but with the same intent: we appreciate your interest, but we have chosen a different candidate from a very competitive pool—we don’t think you fulfill our qualifications—we’re looking for someone with more experience—we wish you the best in your future endeavors. You’ve noticed she tends to click back and forth between each letter, as if to torture herself further.
“I think you should put that laptop away. Try again tomorrow,” you tell her, closing the panel while she’s scrolling, stealing her attention. She readjusts her glasses, blinking rapidly, annoyed at your little intervention. “I’m going for a walk. You should join me.”
“And what if I don’t?” she asks, threatening to pull her laptop away from your fingers.
“Good luck going out when I have the room key then.”
“I don’t have my running shoes,” she replies, and she’s telling the truth; she only brought one pair of slippers with her, the rest being colorful sets of boots and expensive high heels.
“Then grab some from my closet and wash up. You’ll look stupid if you go out in those silly boots.”
—————
At first, you believe she had declined the offer; you had already left the building when Yuqi caught up to you moments later, huffing and puffing from exhaustion. Hey, maybe she could have been a great track and field athlete if she put her mind to it.
You can’t help but make a little comment. “Thought you weren’t going to go out.”
That was for all the times she’d make similar remarks to you back in college. They never really bothered you; you were never a man of high morals and upstanding, but at least you had your priorities sorted out, unlike Yuqi.
Yuqi playfully counters your rib, shooting you a disparaging stare. “Dude. I’m doing you a favor by doing this.”
“Elaborate.” You laugh.
“You never went out whenever I asked you. You always said no to parties.”
“And for good reason. Look at us now.”
If you wanted to, you’d be harsher. You have years of dirty laundry and grievances to air out, but this is as concise and as restrained as you can express them without getting accused of attempted murder. Besides, you can’t keep a straight face the longer you look at her. She clearly stands out in a rather dreary and dull crowd, and it isn’t the red hair as bright as the sun, it's her look—or lack thereof. Your oversized hoodie, your running shoes mixed with her pajamas, the lack of bra—it’s obvious she only did the bare minimum to look decent in a public setting, and yet she fits in all of them like a glove.
“Where are we going, anyway? Can it be a bar? I hope it’s a bar.”
The first thing she wants to look for once outside is a place to drink. Of course. It’s hardly a surprise to you or anyone at this point.
“Where’s your car anyway?” you question back.
“I dunno. Could be in the carpark, could have been impounded. I don’t remember, and I don’t really care. It smells like dogshit, anyway, cause I’ve been living in it for the past three weeks.”
Yuqi talks with a fine blend of fast and sardonic, evidently scarred from all her ordeals with that car. She’s never experienced living outside her glass castle until now, and it shows. She’s dragging her feet with every step following you close behind, trying to soak in the scenery around her. Street lights, joggers, buskers, friends, and partners of every sort, people that you actually know and recognize. It’s all foreign in her eyes. All she knows are strobe lights, loud music, drinks, and rowdy crowds.
“So, like, do you just go on a walk every single day or you only do this because I’m your roommate?” she wonders, her gaze lingering at a passing woman jogger that catches her eye. Jumping to conclusions, she adds, “Are you telling me to touch grass? As if I hadn’t been doing that for weeks?”
You turn around and notice her distant stare, still fixated on that woman, ruminating the prospect of leaving you for her instead. “I don’t think getting blacked out drunk and vomiting in your car counts as touching grass.”
“How do you even know that?” Yuqi faces you, provoked by your comment, pouting. “You hardly attend parties, even when I invited you. You always turned them down.”
“Word gets around fast. I thought you already knew that.”
If she could, she’d grab you by the throat and strangle you to death or rip you in half. It stings. She questions whether your blunt, matter-of-fact delivery makes the statement ten times more scathing. Then she wonders if she made a mistake, dressing up and going after you, when you’ll just be making her regret her life decisions like her parents did. You hardly cared back then, so why now?
“Can we just go to a bar? You’re being annoying.” Yuqi stares into the distance, intentionally averting her gaze away from you.
“If you have the money, then sure, let’s go for it.” You know she has no leverage or power; she can only afford fast food and a month’s worth of groceries and daily necessities. It pains her to make a willing decision to pass on alcohol and avoid bars and parties. She’s down horrendously, but she won’t directly confess her own fatal flaw.
It takes everything within her not to slap you square in the face.
And you can play this game all night long until she folds. You can stand there, argue, and debate with Yuqi till she runs out of excuses and complaints. Four years of pent up material to unload onto her, make a scene in public and turn her into an example about not wasting one’s life away. You can go further, you promise.
Instead, you both settle down in a cafe on the other side of the park as a compromise.
The place is more suited to Yuqi’s style: lively crowd, comfortable ambience, all the caffeine and sugar as a proxy to her raging alcohol addiction. Most importantly, she won’t pay for shit. You don’t even end up drinking your own order; she does it on your behalf. You settle for a tiny cup of tap water instead. In a way, she’s acting like a needy dog, desperate for attention without concern for anything else that doesn’t involve her.
“Fucking hell, I never knew I needed this,” she echoes, sipping up the last quarter of your coffee, glancing at the menu over the counter, itching for another. She’s keen on paying from her pocket this time; she recognizes you won’t give her another freebie. “This shit tastes so good.”
You can only shake your head, not even remotely trying to hide your frustration toward her. Her obliviousness is kind of cute in a way, making her look a bit sympathetic.
“Maybe I should just work here,” she says, her eyes moving in every direction, her attention taken by something shiny every five seconds. Plenty of action happens at night: groups entering and exiting, the pervasive scent of fresh coffee brewing in real time, and plenty of girls to ogle at. In particular, there’s a waitress with a cherry tattoo on her neck that’s captured her interest. She can’t help but point her out to you, grinning widely at her. “See that waitress? She’s kinda cute.”
“Uh-huh.” You’re not really paying attention; you’re there mainly for the free wifi and a snack, not to flirt. Luckily for you both, the waitress is preoccupied with meeting high customer demands to notice. “Good idea, maybe you should apply here.”
The longer you stay inside the cafe premises, the more Yuqi becomes less inclined to leave. You end up having dinner, a couple of ham and cheese sandwiches from the snack menu. On her end, four cups of coffee strewn on the table, all drank by her. If this was some ploy to make you pay for free drinks, it worked to a tee. Anything to avoid engaging you in a serious conversation.
The opportunity never presents itself. Soon, the cafe becomes dimmer and muted. Staff are closing off sections, clearing trays, and cleaning up empty tables. Since you entered the cafe, she has not made a move on the waitress at all, even when you’ve tried pushing her over the cliff numerous times. Her shift is close to done, ready to check out for the day. One more opening. Still, Yuqi watches her intently, but can’t find the strength to stand, let alone pull the trigger.
“Well? I thought you were gonna ask her out or something.” You take a look around and come to a grim realization: that you’re the only two customers left.
“I—I don’t think I wanna do it now.” Yuqi turns around, playfully grinning, but rushing through her words. “Maybe when I get the job here. Maybe.”
You can only react in quiet disbelief to how this was all just a huge waste of time—and money.
“Fucking—” you sputter before masking the rest of your response, groaning as you rise from your seat, leaving.
After two days, your main observation is that Yuqi hasn’t changed much. If at all.
—————
The rest of the week follows a similar structure. It’s comforting; it’s the kind of monotony you’ve acquainted yourself in ever since having your own apartment. Yuqi’s always up before you, an hour in advance, she’ll tell you. At her usual spot around the dining table, on her laptop, coffee in hand. You stop asking for updates after the third day; you’re certain she’ll figure things out. Your mindfulness and curiosity get the better of you, peeking through the screen on occasion, only to find the same thing. One rejection after another, mixed in with a new application letter in between. From the outside looking in, it’s as if some divine force doesn’t want her to get that job.
In the evenings, you go for your usual walks. Yuqi joins you out of the apartment building, but instead of following, she separates and heads the other way. She’s wearing her own earphones and your hoodie, something she’ll end up keeping. The few times you run across each other, she's holding some drink in her hand, usually the coffee from the cafe you spent time with her in, her hoodie pooling with sweat all over. No pleasantries, you mind your own business till you return home.
It isn’t until two weeks after she’s moved in that you extend an invitation: a visit to a newly opened lounge on the other side of town. You preface the invite saying you only knew about the place because it had opened a month ago, and had mostly forgotten about it until you remembered her. She’s doing well for herself, so you might as well reward her for her efforts, even if it hasn’t gone anywhere. And it isn’t Yuqi without asking for some kind of favor; in this case, taking a ride in your car because hers has been impounded by the police. You’re not even surprised that she’s too lazy to reclaim it herself.
Your friend says the lounge is newly opened, but once inside, you’re uncertain about her claim. Whether it's by design or her being a complete liar, grimy, poorly lit, in the vein of all those underground clubs you had seen in action movies where a shootout or police raid occurs. Simply put, there isn’t anywhere pretty to look at, and you feel icky just by being here.
To Yuqi, it’s a fantasyland: it’s where she’s meant to be all along. She’s so overjoyed to be there.
“It’s you!” calls a familiar voice; you turn and find a friendly face over the counter waving to you. You quietly leave Yuqi to herself and approach the bartender, who just so happens to be the owner. “I never thought you’d come and visit! It’s great to see you.”
“Only doing this for a friend, Minnie,” you silently tell her, pointing your finger at your invited guest, the sole reason you’d ever be here. She recognizes her immediately and understands.
“Yuqi, huh?” She looks intrigued, her gaze lingering at the girl. A subtle grin is forming on her face. “Never thought the two of you would be an item like that, considering she’s a party animal and you’re—”
“No—no—don’t get it twisted,” you interrupt, frantically trying to clear up any presumption. There’s no chance in hell you will ever find yourself attached to Yuqi romantically, not even a little. “It’s—a long story.”
“Do tell.” Minnie smirks, teasing, alluring. She looks the part of a bar owner, all right; dark eyelashes and shadowy lipstick matching her pitch black hair. Not to mention her slim dress perfectly hugging her tight frame, showing enough cleavage to draw attention. As a friendly gesture, she gives you a wine glass and pours a drink on it. “We’ve got all the time in the world and all the drinks you need. All in house since you’re a friend.”
So you oblige yourself to a tiny sip. The place is surprisingly quiet and empty, even though it’s the weekend, with lo-fi music playing through the speakers as the only form of background noise. Minnie doesn’t have much on her plate. She can lean on the desk and listen to you all night long.
“So, two weeks ago, Yuqi moved into my place trying to look for a job,” you tell Minnie before taking another sip. Both of you take quick glances at Yuqi, seemingly having the time of her life, scaring off the sole patron by the billiards table. “And I was wondering if you can get her a job here. She’s been rejected from every company she applied for. I know she doesn’t want to work a nine-to-five, and I suddenly remembered this place.”
Minnie raises a curious eyebrow, brushing small strands of hair covering her ear. “I see.” Looking past you, she notices Yuqi, now at the karaoke, amused by her voice and energy. You follow along and watch too, wincing at her talent, caught completely by surprise. You can feel the passion and emotion from her rather honeyed, deep singing voice, as well as her natural charisma while performing.
“Damn. She sounds really good. Borderline natural at it.” Minnie’s in awe of Yuqi’s abilities, the sort of reaction that pushes buttons, steals the show. “Wasn’t she in a band? I know she played guitar.”
“She said it doesn’t exist anymore, won’t tell me what happened.”
Even in the midst of conversation, Yuqi’s voice manages to snatch away your focus. She’s an extremely powerful singer—a natural, as Minnie said. Her voice is overpowering the background music with little difficulty. There’s little need to watch when her vocals can easily capture your attention all the same.
Facing you again, Minnie replies, clasping her hands together, “How about she perform by herself?” she suggests.
You meet her eye to eye at the drop of the notion, curious.
“What do you mean?” You take another sip.
“We have an open mic night next weekend, and we could use talent to liven up the place. She sounds perfect for that kind of gig. Who knows? Maybe she can be a resident singer if the cards are right.” Minnie smiles through every word, recognizing Yuqi’s talent and the untapped potential she has. All she needs is a platform to showcase her skill properly. And taking another glance at her, you see that too. She has the passion and the vocals to croon a live audience.
“I’ll tell her,” you say, turning to Minnie again. Yuqi has finished performing and is on her way over to the bar. Your conversation breaks off as the two women greet each other with an exchange of kisses on the cheek.
“Great place you got here girl,” Yuqi tells Minnie, beaming from ear to ear. “I’ll be popping by often if you don’t mind.”
“Thanks. I could use some company on the weekdays, if I’m being honest.” Minnie hands Yuqi her own wine-filled glass, as well as a complimentary bottle. She makes sure not to “Take it, it’s on the house.”
“God, this is why I love you so fucking much.” Yuqi drinks up the whole glass in one swig, and immediately pours some from the complimentary bottle. Minnie can’t help but shake her head with a little smile, knowing this is still the same Yuqi she’s acquainted with since college. A rose-tinted view of days gone by.
The two women spend the rest of the time catching up. With how much they talk, it would be a safe assumption to think that these are two long lost friends who haven’t spoken in years. Then the conversation goes on and on, revealing more details than you should probably know: exchanged private messages as recent as last night, Yuqi’s intentions to visit the lounge sooner before present circumstances got in the way, and how she ended up in your apartment. As a listener and side character in her story, it’s a part you quite frankly never wanted, let alone be involved in under any capacity. You make sure to add your point of view in the narrative and clear every question. Whenever you chime in, they laugh heartily. It’s a mess, and they’re unapologetically quirky, never failing to make fun of you at times.
Despite everything, the topic is never brought up: the upcoming open mic night, her performance, her natural talent. You were planning to shoehorn the idea, but one too many drinks later, the conversation and opportunity eventually slips away. Again.
Yuqi can hardly stand on her own two feet when she finally decides it's time to leave. It’s two in the morning when you guide her back to your car, with her drunk out of her mind and slipping into unconsciousness. Minnie assists you, making it even more embarrassing. Even when she’s so inebriated that she can barely move a muscle, she says she wants another round, slipping back into her old ways.
You escort Yuqi back to your apartment, setting her down on her bed and promising yourself that you’ll tell her about Minnie’s offer when she’s sober in the morning.
Except it’s the one fucking day in the month where your job calls you into an actual office for a meeting. Despite that, Yuqi is not at her usual spot in the living room the next morning (unsurprisingly), so you leave food on the table for when she eventually wakes up.
—————
Returning late in the afternoon, you find a note from Yuqi on the outside door of your apartment, stamped by strawberry lipstick, simply reading:
> Not gonna be around till tomorrow. Have something urgent to attend to - XOXO, song yuqi
Sure enough, one brief tour of the apartment and Yuqi is nowhere to be seen. Her room remains untouched: the same, colorful space it’s always been, with most of her clothes and belongings still strewn everywhere on the floor. You don’t even mind the stickers and posters plastered all over the walls; she was gonna break that rule regardless. Typical, but expected. At least you know she hasn’t completely left yet.
Deep down, it’s the first time in a while that your apartment feels a lot smaller—and lonelier. It’s not that you have any sentimental attachment to Yuqi—not in the slightest—but her presence clearly livens up the place. The difference without her around is night and day. Even when your interactions are limited to a minimum, the brief moments you interact make living by yourself a bit more tolerable.
So you preoccupy your mind with your usual schedule: a walk in the park, then dinner by yourself. But these intrusive thoughts grow worse and worse. You’re not in your pajamas at the usual hour, her absence is keeping you up at night, and waiting for her to walk through that door is about as brutal as federal punishment.
You end up driving to Minnie’s bar, inquiring about Yuqi’s whereabouts. She says she hasn’t been around, and she hasn’t exchanged messages with her since last night. Then she asks about open mic night; you tell her about the inconvenience, about the note on your door, which is why you’re there. Good effort, but she ultimately gives you nothing.
“You should stay here a while, who knows? I can message Yuqi you’ve been looking for her,” says Minnie, her smile as welcoming as it’s ever been. “Why not have a drink in the meantime?”
“Hmm.” You entertain the thought, but she promised to return tomorrow, and perhaps you’re overthinking it; you just have to let it play out. “No thanks.” As a distraction you’re watching another girl at the karaoke machine. She has distinctively pink hair, has similar energy and passion for singing, except her voice is much higher, more nasally. All she does is remind you of Yuqi, but she’s nowhere close—in appearance and in ability. “She promised to be back tomorrow. Maybe I should take her word for it and go home.”
A pour of wine on the glass is followed by her siren-like whisper. With her hand caressing your shoulder, she mutters, “So—you like her. You like Song Yuqi.”
You raise an eyebrow, taken aback by her statement. Facing Minnie, you reply, “What? No way. I don’t like Yuqi at all. I’m just concerned she might have disappeared, that’s all.”
“Cap.” Minnie smirks, murmurs to your other ear. “You like her. Actually, you love her. You just won’t admit it.”
“And what makes you say that?”
“The fact you look so distressed wondering where she is. I mean—just look at you.” Her voice is slow, delicate, each word delivered with profound emphasis. She flickers a lighter, then directs the cigarette in her mouth for a puff. “Would someone who doesn’t like her worry like this?”
“I mean—I’m just trying to help her get back on her feet,” you tell her, and Minnie can only chuckle in response. Puff more smoke. In her eyes, you’re not doing yourself any favors. Your words have no weight to them. It’s the same old same old most women like her hear dozens of times. I’m not into her, says the guy who’s showing an alarming level of concern towards said girl. Something she’s all too familiar with. “You know? Just looking out for a friend, that kinda thing.”
Minnie wishes she can hold up a mirror against you now to prove her point. In a place meant for everyone to relax and ease themselves, you look tumid, on the verge of a historical crash out. She smirks into her next smoke, shaking her head, scrolling through her phone. “Sure. I believe you,” she remarks, and there’s no effort made to hide the sarcasm in any capacity.
That piece of cigar looks quite appealing right now. She sells smoking like she sells the off shoulder dress draping her defined figure: exceptionally well, like she’s meant for it.
Later in the night—you’re unsure whether it’s still today or tomorrow—Minnie suddenly approaches you with a shift in enthusiasm, as seen through her grin: “You should probably head home. Unless you want to stay the night waiting for someone who won’t be here in the morning.”
“She’s back already?” You manage to decipher the hint right away.
She nods, can’t help herself from beaming continuously. No effort to lie or maintain the mystery further. “I guess you’re not as stupid as I thought you’d be.”
Running up the stairs in a hurry, you respond to her little jab with a shout, “And you owe me one for that. Actually—no, I owe you one!”
Unknowingly, Yuqi’s little mannerisms are starting to reflect in you, too.
Sure enough, you’re home within a matter of minutes. Empty streets, dead nightlife on a weekday, the loudest thing heard for miles is the roar of your car’s engine and the elevator headed up to your apartment floor. Any other time you’d burst through that door like an officer with an arrest warrant, but it’s almost three in the morning, and the last thing you want to be is apprehended yourself after a noise complaint.
The place remains as unchanged as you had left it: completely dark, save for one light over the kitchen. It’s quiet, eerily silent—until you hear airy, soft noises in the distance. Room by room, you carefully inspect where the sound is coming from, only to find nothing at all.
There’s only one place left to check, and it happens to be the Yuqi’s bedroom. A room you remember being empty. As you approach the sole unopened door, you notice the faint sound growing in pitch. Hushed words from a familiar tone.
“Fuck—oh fuck—”
You press an ear against the door frame. She sounds clearer. Way more explicit. Vivid.
“So—so—good—fuck yes—”
There’s a subtle creaking sound that accompanies her singsong tone almost perfectly. Nothing is left open for interpretation; Yuqi is feeling herself. Feeling a satisfaction that only comes from something slick, something rough, something good.
As much as you want to respect her space, her moment in the dark, you can’t help yourself. She sounds so good, so gratifying to the ears, it’s making you a little hot and flustered, much to your own guilt and shame. You don’t care about the consequences; you’ll allow yourself one little look then pretend it never happened. At best, she’s too preoccupied with her own bliss to notice, and at worst, it’ll be one awkward conversation starter in the morning.
“Oh, oh God—you feel really good baby—just like that—”
It’s as if she’s reading your mind, understanding your intentions. The way she moans your name like an invitation—something you never thought you would hear or even consider—how it’s naturally delivered from her sweet, intoxicating voice. You’re doing yourself a disservice by listening through the door.
There’s no better opportunity than now.
With your heart racing against your chest, every nerve in your muscles tense up as it desperately opens the door, slowly and as quietly as humanly possible. Miraculously, you go completely unnoticed. Even as light from the living room slowly penetrates through Yuqi’s bedroom, it fails to cover what really matters: the bed and Yuqi herself.
Nevertheless, the sight that welcomes you is one to behold, one worth looking at with complete awe.
Yuqi’s body is splayed out on the bed. Her legs are spread wide, a couple of her fingers aggressively rubbing against her exposed clit, and there’s a glossy sheen coating the sheets before her soaking wet core. Her clothes are, unsurprisingly, scattered all over the floor, along with a pair of consumed alcohol bottles. She’s completely bare for your eyes to see. Nothing is left to your imagination. More importantly, she looks so fucking hot. Your heart is racing like never before, and the scene has your pants in a twist.
Her other hand runs up and down her lithe frame, then squeezes her own breast. She lets out this sharp mewl, grinding her hips against air. Her jaw slacks wide. Her eyes shut tight. Her back arches. Waves of self-induced pleasure send shockwaves through every fiber of her being, her moans growing more and more erratic.
“Fucking give it to me—I love this cock so fucking much—”
It’s about as pornographic and explicit as it gets. It riles you up in an uncomfortable way; you end up unzipping your pants to free your growing erection, but nothing happens beyond that. It feels wrong. It is wrong, but you can’t muster up the strength to look away, let alone walk away. You want to see how it ends. How she cums.
She wraps a hand around her own throat, while her knees are planted upright with her feet firmly gripped on the sheets. There's a noticeable tone change in her whines, as if simulating the act. Yet, the words flow from her lips seamlessly. “I’m so close—so, so close—”
The cackle she makes after is mortifying. Here’s this girl, who you had zero attraction prior to tonight, shamelessly declaring how she’s going to cum, how good your cock feels inside her—without either of the two even happening to begin with. The fact she likes you is the least shocking revelation in itself. A reminder: you only had three meaningful conversations with her since she moved in—two if you consider how blackout drunk she was the night before, and even if you go all the way back to your college days, you can count them with your fingers alone.
“Fucking—cumming—oh my God—”
Yuqi strains her knees and loosens her grip on the sheets as she lets the pleasure wash over. Clear liquid gushes past her throbbing, relentless fingers and spills onto the linen. A guttural, deep moan fills the bedroom as she slumps her body flat on the mattress, her energy completely depleted, her thoughts filled with nothing but orgasmic bliss. Her coated hands rest on her bare waist, her tummy, leaving viscous sheen on her creamy pale skin.
When she isn’t screaming your name or touching herself to the thought of you, Yuqi, at her barest, looks so gorgeous like this. Flaws and all.
Albeit brief, it’s quite the show to more than satisfy your thirst for her. You remember your uninvited presence in this room and where you stand in this relationship. That she’s only a tenant—an acquaintance at best—and nothing more. Any other person and situation would already send you damning to hell.
So you quietly leave, gather your bearings, hoping her haze doesn’t clear before she is made aware of your presence, but you hear a faint whisper right as you close the door, clearer than any whine of pleasure:
“Hey.”
Part of you wants to ignore her, pretend this is all a huge misunderstanding and feign ignorance. Then you hear her soft, alluring voice calling your name and it’s what ultimately folds you:
“W-what time is it?”
Again, you consider the choice of entertaining her question or leaving her dry. She’ll probably fall asleep shortly after and forget these few moments. You tell her it’s three in the morning, hoping she dozes off.
She doesn’t.
“Shit. Can you come inside? I mean—come in.”
She’s still thinking about you, and it’s admittedly cute. You love how unabashedly blunt—and lewd—she is when she’s drunk. You give her the benefit of the doubt and reenter the room.
Yuqi realizes the messy state she and her bedroom are in when you turn on the lights. Cheeks puffed and red from embarrassment, she tries to hop off the mattress, only to stumble to the floor on her fours.
“I’m so, so, sorry. I didn’t think you’d—”
“Hey hey, it’s fine.” You grab her off the floor and sit her on the bed. “Don’t apologize. I’ll get some water; stay here and rest.”
Your eyes are meeting, hers twinkling. In those few, crucial moments, right when you’re about to leave, you feel an irresistible tug pulling you closer to each other.
Suddenly, Yuqi pulls you in by the shirt for a deep, passionate kiss. Her lips taste like actual whisky and vodka, indicating what she drank earlier that night. Yet they feel so lush, so sweet, filled with so much passion. You don’t bother trying; you fold to your lust, submit to her desire. You sink onto the bed together, never breaking apart, even for a second. Next thing you know, her hands are all over your body, roaming your chest, coiled around your neck, removing the shirt over your head to be tossed aside and completely forgotten.
Yet there’s still some resistance. Despite making the first move, she pulls back, and you do so in return. You’re hovering on top of her—an unexpected but welcome position to be in.
“I didn’t know what got me there. I’m sorry. I just felt this sudden need to kiss you and—”
You shut her up by diving in and kissing her again, pinning Yuqi down to the mattress—the very thing that got you into this position to begin with. With you all over her, she’s able to shed the rest of your clothes: first the slacks, followed by your boxers. She mewls at the sensation of your hard cock pressed against her slit, and it’s beyond what her imagination can describe. It’s electrifying. And God, you know you’re no better than her, but you just want to fuck her right then and there, give her everything she wants without a second thought.
Grabbing you by the scalp, she rips your lips off her chin as you’re making your way down her neck. “Not yet. Nuh uh.” She pulls you into yet another kiss, as if you’re oxygen—and in a way, it’s appropriate: you’re breathing new life into her. “Did I ever tell you that you were a good kisser?”
“Not at all,” you tell her, gently shaking your head. “You’re not half bad yourself.”
“Half bad?” Yuqi raises a sharp eyebrow, seemingly offended by your backhanded compliment. A dangerous smirk forms on her lips. “Says the one who was watching me the entire time—”
“You knew?” There’s a heightened sense of panic in your voice. “I thought you were—”
“Shhh.” She kisses you, pulls you into a warm cuddle atop her. Slender legs wrapped around your hips, she follows: “Less talk, more lovemaking.”
And more lovemaking you do. You grow more easily acquainted with her lips than with her personality, and you barely know them: it’s only been a few minutes. Even though it’s a Thursday, the weekend feels like a lifetime away. You should be up five hours from now; you have the alarm preset and everything. But Yuqi’s getting in your way again, as she always has, and this won’t certainly be the last. She’s so hypnotic, so alluring, you find yourself unable to slip away, no matter how hard you try.
You find that it’s easier to give in than to struggle aimlessly.
It’s effortless to get your fingers pressed inside her sopping core, brushing along sensitive, wet ridges of skin, where thoughts of you manifested into thin, delicate strokes. Her moans ring against your ears in varying pitches, each with a distinct, pulsing plea of satisfaction. Keep going, she tells you, and you follow without complaint. All this while you leave a soft path of bite marks down her neck and collarbones, until you reach her petite chest.
And fuck, you just go down on Yuqi. Sucking on her breasts like you’re in the middle of an oasis in the desert. She goes wild. Tossing, turning, trembling. You can feel her body close on you, wanting to take you in and suffocate you. The bed is creaking, growing strikingly more intense, turbulent. All this spurring you on, making you more reckless, more daring with her.
“Mmmmm—fuck!” She lets out a hum of desperation, her hot, shaky breath fogging on your skin. You become an intertwined labyrinth of limbs that fit together, where you have no idea where it begins and where it ends. Your fingers vanish between her legs, still working tirelessly, perfectly snug around her pussy even when crushed between the weight of her thighs.
Eventually, you find yourself staring aimlessly at Yuqi. She’s so beautiful, and you’re punching yourself mentally, wondering why it took so long to come to this conclusion. Even when she’s not rocking the trendy hair color of the week and her face is a canvas for every conceivable makeup and filter, she’s naturally pretty. Especially now, completely bare—and with nothing but an exasperated, satisfied look of inebriated, lust filled bliss.
You find the light peeking from the living room, casting a shadow between your tangled legs. She’s dripping at her core, showering your fingers with a fresh flow of sheen, messing up the sheets even further if that’s even possible. They’re beyond saving at this point, and so are you.
Rolling to her side, Yuqi wraps her arm around you, as if enticing you to stay. You shouldn’t have done this, but it’s too late: there’s no going back. You’re too lazy to close the door, and you have the girl you previously never gave a second look rubbing lazy circles on your stomach with her coated nails. Her hair draped all over your arm and shoulder, her eyes looking up at yours, acting all soft and innocent—
Until she starts talking again. “It wouldn’t be complete unless you cum inside me, wouldn’t it?”
The difference between her body language and her lips is night and day. Right then and there, you immediately recognize that there’s no other way this night will end. How your body moves at her will, how you immediately roll on top of her, as if it’s programmed to follow her every command. You have her legs pressed up and spread wide, her knees bent, lining your aching cock against the wet slit of her cunt. All while her features twist into a sickening, slimy grin in the slim shape of a lip bite. The fire, the desire—it’s still as bright as ever.
And to make sure you aren’t second guessing the idea, her arms are coiled around your neck, her hands grabbing at your hair, pressing on your nape. Yuqi wants you—needs you—to fuck her silly; it’s the only way she can be satiated.
You watch Yuqi’s expression contort from anxious to messy, and the feeling is mutual. You slip in, slow and delicate, going against her instruction, and you almost lose it at the first stroke. The deep, guttural moan you make echoes throughout the entire apartment, while her firm walls pulse against your cock. It’s hot, it’s tense, it’s suffocating.
“Shit, shit, shit—” you mutter, gently trying to pull back, but the fiery sensation burns, scratches away at your psyche, at your loins. “So—fucking—tight—Yuqi—fuck.”
“C’mon. Fuck me. Fuck me now.” She kisses your ear, her legs pounding against your hips, demanding you to move. There’s some serious intent behind her tone, a seamless blend of demand and impatience. “Use that big cock—mmm!”
You can only groan in response as you thrust back in deep, her grip on your body tighter than ever. And it’s more than just her cunt; she’s clinging onto you for dear life.
It hardly matters when you’re leaving sore, red marks on her skin or ripping through the blankets. It hardly matters when Yuqi can barely breathe. It hardly matters when you’re so loud that everyone can hear you. What’s important is you’re fucking her—and you’re fucking her hard. You both love the filthiness to it. There’s no rhythm, no pace, no flow; it’s one slow deep thrust, followed by a fast pump into her tight, inviting cunt. You become comfortable; you take her like she’s meant to be used.
And Yuqi takes your cock so fucking well. Bounces against every stroke with ease, as if the feeling is second nature to her. Knowing her, she’s probably been in this position more than you’d want to know or hear. You don’t really care about that for now. Even after what seems to be an endless cascade of orgasms, she’s still keening, still needy, still soaking wet that it’s alarming. Her back arches, melts deep into the cushion. She still wants more.
“So—fucking—good—more—need—fuck—”
The only noise you need is the mesh of your flesh slapping against hers, bouncing against her sharp cries of pain and pleasure. Reaching into the deepest, most sensitive parts of her pussy with your cock, this violent shudder rocks both you and Yuqi to your core. With each drag, more of her slick coats your shaft, and the easier you get access to her smothering heat. You can’t find the will to stop, not that you ever want to; she feels so warm, so inviting, so sloppy sounding to the ears that it’s driving you just as crazy as her.
It’s also driving you wild why it took you this long to fuck her—use her—like this. If you had known, you would have cared sooner. You’d have some leverage when it came to negotiations. A body like hers is too good not to have on speed dial.
Right now, it’s the least of your concerns. Not when you’re pounding a tight body like Yuqi’s so freely, hearing her demand to fuck her harder, like your life’s depending on it. Better late than never.
And it’s for the best that the moment happens later rather than sooner. She cums. Cums again. Eventually you’ve stopped counting, because there’s no point. The mere thought of you restarts the cycle, and your touch accelerates the process. The clutch of her cunt is too overwhelming to avoid at this point; it’s all but directly telling you to fill her, to unload all that pent up tension and need into her. The thought never bubbled up in your head even once; the idea of you and Yuqi with a child together. You never really questioned it. She goes out often, probably gets fucked multiple times in one night if she’s with willing company. She probably knew you’d walk in on her; hell, she’s probably got this whole thing planned out and Minnie is one of her accomplices. Maybe the entire time, she’s been yearning for you, because you’ve never heard her this passionate, this loud, this filthy in your life, even at her most inebriated.
“Inside me. Please cum inside me. I’m safe, don’t worry,” she whispers, as if she’s reading through your mind, reassuring you from your doubts. Her hand is palming your back, as if to line you straight so your cock directly hits her sweet spot. She sounds so pretty, it’s almost impossible to resist.
“Gonna cum,” you tell her, voice going hoarse, rasp, and she nods immediately in return, reinforcing the notion. She’s focused her effort on holding on, her legs tightly wrapped around your waist, her arms coiled around your neck, subtly pushing you against her hips.
“This—pussy—so—fucking—God,” you mindlessly utter, averting her doe eyed gaze, desperate to cling to the last of your resolve as it quickly dissolves with each thrust. You’re on borrowed time and it’s quickly slipping away. Yuqi is tilting your face down to her, to her airy breaths, to her fluttering eyelids, to her passionate expression as you fuck her, pushing you over the edge. “Holy fuck, Yuqi—”
Yuqi’s lips part like a flower in bloom, and it’s a pretty sight. Yet it’s not enough of a distraction to keep everything from falling into place.
And God, it fucking burns.
You swallow hard, but are unable to keep that groan suppressed. Your hips meet her halfway, your cock comfortably buried deep in her heat, and that’s where you come undone. Yuqi digs deep into your skin as it fills her—your cum—and she goes frozen at that moment. It’s a quiet, tense flash of silence. Afterward, she finally breaks. Cries out this deafening whine, her grip all over you loosening, time eventually catching up to her.
She lays beneath you, completely limp, but her body remains trembling, shaking, seizing. You don’t find the strength to drag your cock from her heat; the feeling lingers. Endless ropes of cum gushing into her womb, emptying yourself, just as she wanted. Then you pull out, agonizingly slow, and more viscous slick gushes from her core.
You feel guilty for that poor patch of soaked linen between her legs. It’s about as ruined as a collapsed power plant.
There’s little need for Yuqi to beg you to stay. The climax saps whatever energy you had left. You end up slumping flat on your belly beside her, both of you bathed in the afterglow of sex, exhausted from an already long day, too worn out to make another sound. And when you’re tired, any bed, no matter how messy it may be, is a comfortable bed.
—————
You already expected the scene at the breakfast table to be awkward.
And it was.
It isn’t until Yuqi calls you out standing at the doorway of her room that you realize you’ve been shooting a thousand yard stare the whole time. She waves at you, her cheeks red, flustered, chuckling. “Good morning to you, I guess. Put something on. I don’t wanna drink coffee while looking at someone’s dick. It’s gross.”
This time you’re the one unbecoming, completely in the nude while she got herself into some pajamas. Despite that, you hardly feel any guilt or shame, like this is a normal occurrence in the household. So you scramble to your room and get appropriately dressed. A look at the time and it’s already 15 past ten in the morning, an hour later than when you normally start work. Even more unusual is the absence of the laptop. It’s just Yuqi and her coffee.
Sitting opposite Yuqi, today seems a bit more tense than normal, and you can guess the reason why. She knows it, too. Neither of you are willing to break the ice, only shooting occasional glares at each other while sipping on coffee and scrolling through your phones.
“So, Yuqi.”
The words slip from your mouth, accidental, nearly silent. They follow the mild screech of the chair she sits on. When you meet eye to eye, she asks what’s up. What's on your mind? There’s a sudden barrier in your throat. You have a vague idea of what to say, but not the power to speak them.
“About last night—”
Her lack of response is unnerving. The visible curiosity, the probable apathy. You and her possibly sharing the same sentiment: a feeling of regret.
“I—I just wanted to say sorry. For last night. I should have just—”
“Sorry for what?”
You suddenly stop. This is not the expected reaction; it’s the complete opposite. A moment where you face the consequences of your actions.
Yuqi stands up and walks over to your side, beaming from ear to ear. “What we did last night was—fucking amazing. Don’t feel bad. If anything, I should feel bad because I didn’t tip you off sooner. We could have done so much more.”
You don’t pick up on the implication right away. It’s all strange, uncharted territory. Your previous flings were simple one-and-dones: a night of reckless, frivolous fun. Short, but fun nonetheless. They would disappear in the morning, never to be seen again.
“I didn’t think you’d walk through that door, especially since it was three in the morning,” says Yuqi, casual, running her fingers through your hair. “I got a bit too silly, as usual, but there’s a good reason for it.”
“And that is?”
“I got a job!” Yuqi’s gripping to your shoulder, the only thing keeping her from jumping for joy. “I got a job at the cafe with the pretty lady. I start on Monday.”
It’s certainly a cause for celebration. You can’t help but root and smile for her, caressing her hands. “Well, damn. Congratulations.”
“Yeah!” Yuqi’s wrapped you in a rather heartwarming embrace that you willingly fold into. “I had the interview yesterday, so I needed to lock in. Needed to be alone. Then I got accepted after, so I went and bought some drinks to celebrate.”
That doesn’t surprise you one bit. You’re just thrilled that she’s finally getting somewhere.
“So—does that mean I can kick you out once you get your first paycheck?” you ask her.
“I guess so. But—” Yuqi pauses, tilts your chin on an incline. She’s warm, radiant, pretty. She doesn’t care that you’ve worded yourself poorly and you’re taking it back; she’s still riding off the high from yesterday. You’re already counting the days before she leaves, and admittedly, you’ll miss that sight. “I’m gonna miss staying with you. Thanks for having my back when I needed it. I honestly don’t know how I will ever repay you.”
She tops it up with a quick peck on your lips. It’s all over your face, etched completely in red. The devilish grin.
“I think I know exactly how.”
And that’s all that needed to be said.
Before you know it, you’re right back at square one: clothes scattered everywhere on the floor, her body pressed on the mattress, flat on her belly, your cock stretching her pussy out as you fuck her mindlessly from behind. This time in the comfort of your own bedroom.
All the more reason for you two to stay together.
—————
(A/N: fucksorryforgoingonanotherhiatusfuckfuckfuck—)
(Okay, but I really do wanna apologize for going on yet another unannounced hiatus. Final weeks of the semester were hell, then I was on vacation the week I promised this fic would be released (I'm basically the LeBron James of K-smut when it comes to lying at this point), not to mention a health scare courtesy of my mother. Some very hard times have hit me lately, so my mind wasn't 100%. Nevertheless, I am still standing (shoutout Elton John). Lots of free time throughout June and July, so hopefully nothing bad happens ISTG lemme have some peace for once and let me fucking write goddammit—)
(In non-personal news, Yuqi's solo was very fun and she's getting on that Yena level of bias where she's the perfect blend of cute and hot. Then she went pink recently and that made me :pphurt: Sort of a feel out fic before I *finally* finish these commissions over the coming weeks, thank you for reading!)
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— 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝑜𝓌𝓁 ౨ৎ
boothill x f!reader. 2k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ vaguely suggestive bits ﾉ fluff ﾉ non-canon compliant ﾉ farmhand!boothill ﾉ pet names ( darlin’ + sweetheart :3 )
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it’s late—you know so because the sky has turned to a deep navy. you can hear the crickets chirping through the open window, feel the cool night breeze whisper against your skin. beyond those telling signs, your eyelids are beginning to feel heavy. they’re screaming at you to close them but you know that if you do, you’ll fall asleep in a second. you can’t do that now, not when you’re on the phone giving your weekly update to your friend back home.
“so,” her voice crackles over the line, “how are things in farmville?”
you snort at meg’s nickname for the little town you’ve come to know as a second home. as much as she pokes fun at the idea of having a ranch to run away to, she’s been supportive of your decision to retreat here for solace. she keeps you in the loop when it comes to the drama unfolding in the office and listens attentively when you tell her what you’re up to on the farm.
you have a feeling she might be offended that you didn’t tell her this bit sooner.
“fine.” you draw the word out, rolling onto your other side on the couch as if repositioning will give you enough time to stall. despite not being able to see her face, you imagine that the woman is wearing an expression that says something along the lines of i know you’re hiding something. even through the phone, she can see through you. “i might have gotten a concussion a few days ago.”
she gasps and you can hear her slap her hand over her mouth. you’re sure if she could, she’d reach through the phone and shake you by the shoulders before thinking better of it and rushing out a string of apologies. though, she can’t, so she settles on questioning you instead. “what happened? are you okay? why the hell are you just now telling me?”
you relay the series of events to her—how it happened, boothill finding you, your visit to the doctor, and boothill playing nurse since then. her worry seems to dissipate as you explain and by the time you’re done, she’s laughing.
“what are you giggling about?” you ask her, but a little part of you already knows. boothill’s name always seems to make its way into your conversations and since the start of these weekly calls, meg has held onto the belief that you’re harboring a crush on the farmhand. you brush her off every time she suggests that you like him but like a leech, the thought always latches on and lingers.
“probably hard to deny your feelings now, huh?” you can hear the smile in her voice. you pucker your lips in annoyance. you didn’t think telling her about the way boothill makes you feel would result in meg throwing it back in your face at any given moment. though, you suppose you can’t be surprised. she’s frustrated that you’ll admit those feelings to her and not him, that you won’t act on them. “he’s already taking care of you like you’re his girlfriend—how romantic!”
“it’s not romantic,” you tell her, shaking your head, “he’d do that for anyone.”
“even better!” meg squeals. the shrill sound makes you pull the phone away from your ear and you only return it to its former position when the woman lowers her voice. “if he’s like that with everyone, that means he isn’t trying to impress you. he’s just a compassionate, caring guy who happens to have a thing for you.”
you chew on your cheek as you contemplate her words. you’ve never doubted that he’s a good guy—you’ve seen too many instances of his big heart in action to think otherwise, though, the part about boothill having a “thing” for you is a bit harder to believe. sure, he’s called you pretty numerous times, unintentionally held your hands on a couple of occasions, but that means nothing, at least when it comes to whatever feelings he might have for you. you’ve convinced yourself that most of the things he does that make your heart flutter or your cheeks burn are simply to get a reaction out of you—a little embarrassment for the sake of his entertainment.
“ugh, when are you going to be brave and spill your guts to him?” meg’s voice cuts through your thoughts.
“never! i’m not telling him anything.” you close your eyes and take a deep breath to ground yourself. “i don’t know how long i’ll be here and, more importantly, i have no idea if he even likes me.”
“and you’ll never find out if you keep running away.”
you’re about to tell her that you aren’t running away or avoiding anything but you press your lips together before the words can hit the air. because you have been—you can recall a number of times you have in the past and you’re even thinking about it now, leaving without coming to terms with your feelings or figuring out if boothill reciprocates them.
“i’m not—” not running away? not going to tell him? not ready to tell him? you huff out a sigh, one that’s a mixture of frustration and confusion. “not now, meg.”
“that’s fine,” she assures you, her voice soft. “i just don’t want you to regret anything.”
“i know.” you nod even though she can’t see you.
she’s right. you’ll regret it if you don’t say anything, if you go home without facing your feelings head-on. the what ifs and what could have beens will follow you there, mercilessly haunting your mind.
“it’s getting late,” you tell meg, “i think i’m going to go to bed.”
“sure,” she hums. there’s a brief pause like she wants to say more but she settles on, “good night.”
“g’night.” you pull your phone away to end the call and toss the device on the other end of the couch. you should go upstairs and get in bed like you planned to but all these thoughts so fresh in your head make you feel like falling asleep won’t come easy tonight. slumping against the arm on the couch, you let out a groan, one quiet enough to not wake your grandpa and boothill upstairs but loud enough to grant you the slightest bit of relief.
though, the sound is cut off by another. it comes from the kitchen and you sit up to peer over the back of the couch to see if you’re hearing things—you’d prefer it that way. your fantasy comes to an end when you see boothill standing at the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water and closing the door once he’s finished.
he meets your gaze and shoots you a smile before uncapping the water and taking a few gulps. it’s strange seeing him at this hour; he usually sleeps early so he can wake up with the sun. you rarely ever see him wearing anything but his jeans and his top of choice but the look is traded in for pajamas now—if you can call nothing but a pair of boxers pajamas.
you gasp at the sight and turn around. he just wanders around the house half-naked? carelessly risks running into you while wearing nothing but his underwear? you might not have heard him but he certainly must have seen you stretched out on the couch or at the very least heard you talking to meg on the phone.
the call.
you quickly turn around to face him once more.
“how long have you been there?” the question comes out rushed but you’re frantic to know if he was around to hear you talking about him.
he shrugs and swallows, setting his bottle on the counter before leaning against it. “i don’t know. long enough to hear you’re having some boy troubles.”
the confession makes your heart jump into your throat. you choose not to expand on it, instead reprimanding him for eavesdropping. “it’s rude to listen in on conversations you aren’t part of.”
“my apologies.” he raises his hands in mock surrender. “i just didn’t wanna interrupt.”
you stare him down in an attempt to read his expression and the look in his eyes. his perpetual smile is in place like usual but nothing else about his countenance seems knowing. he’s either very good at hiding it or he didn’t pick up on the fact that he was the one you’re talking about.
“want some advice?” boothill speaks up, tilting his head in a question of its own.
you look at him for a second before a laugh bubbles up from your chest, permeating the air. boothill’s smile slowly falls and that’s the last you see of him before turning your back to him. it seems a little more polite to laugh at him if it isn’t in his face.
he doesn’t stay at his place in the kitchen, feet carrying him to the back of the couch. you’re still laughing when he gets there. he’s never heard you laugh like this before—not at anything he’s said or done. as captivated as he is by the sound, he’s a touch more curious as to what brought it about. a cushion in between you, he leans over the back of the couch to ask, “what’s so funny?”
“i’m sorry.” you try to clear the humor from your voice but it lingers with your explanation. you turn your head to look boothill in the eye. “it’s just—what do you know about problems of the male variety?”
“hello?” he straightens up and gestures to himself and it’s only then that you remember how…undressed he is. that’s enough to sober you up from your humor. “you’re looking at a man, sweetheart.”
you don’t need him to tell you that—you’re more than aware of that. you just meant that he doesn’t seem like the type to help people out of romantic hardships, rather, he’s the one who causes them. strangely enough, though, you consider hearing his perspective. after all, he is the subject of your “boy troubles” as boothill called them.
“so, how about it?” he rounds the couch and plops down on it beside you, leaving a safe amount of space between the two of you. you hold his gaze, light gray irises glowing like stars in the darkness of the living room. “wanna hear my opinion?”
your heart rate quickens and you can’t tell why. because he’s this close to you and practically naked? because those gray eyes are boring into you, urging you to hear him out? because his advice could be the courage you need to admit your feelings or the very deterrent to keep you from doing so?
maybe you aren’t quite brave enough to spill your guts yet but it’s time for you to stop being so scared of the what ifs. “okay, go for it.”
that seems to be the answer boothill was looking for, if his growing smile is any evidence. he doesn’t waste any time sharing his insight. “i say throw caution to the wind, tell him how you feel. and if he doesn’t feel the same way, well then, that’s his loss. because you, darlin’, are a catch. any man would be lucky to have you.”
you know boothill isn’t one to sugarcoat his words. every word he says, he means. is that the case here, too? any man would be lucky to have you—would he feel the same if that man was him?
“i’m headin’ to bed.” he groans as he stands up, stretching his arms above his head, mouth falling open in a yawn. you watch him silently, pondering his words. he doesn’t comment on your silence, doesn’t bother to tease you about your staring. all he does is offer you a wink before telling you, “sweet dreams.”
just as quietly as he appeared, he’s gone.
you let out a shaky breath that you didn’t know you were holding. instead of following boothill’s lead and going to sleep, you rest your head on the arm of the couch and turn your eyes up to the ceiling. your heart is still beating wildly against your rib cage but it’s not bad nerves this time around, it’s anticipation.
courage it is.
thanks for reading! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!
#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: honkai star rail#boothill x reader#hsr x reader#honkai star rail x reader#boothill drabble#hsr drabbles#boothill fluff#hsr fluff#honkai star rail fluff
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Your text went unanswered for the third night in a row, and it was starting to get to you. You wondered if Anakin had a secret lover that he spent his nights with and that's why you were never able to reach him at such hours. The thought gnawed at your insides, the familiar feeling of jealousy and insecurity creeping into your heart.
You stared at your phone, hoping for a response that never came. You sighed, tossing your phone onto the bed, and burying your face in your hands. Anakin had always been hard to reach, but lately his absences had become more frequent, his excuses more vague.
Deciding that locking yourself up alone in your apartment wasn't helping, you headed out. The chill of the Gotham night air hit you as you stepped outside, the city lights casting long shadows in the alleyways. You walked aimlessly, your mind racing with questions and doubts.
As you turned a corner you heard distant sounds of sirens and hurried footsteps. Gotham was never quiet, especially at night. You glanced up at the rooftops, half-expecting to see a dark figure against the sky. The Batman had become a prominent figure in the city, one that you believed risked hundreds of lives to save a few.
What you didn’t expect was to see police cars blocking the street, a crowd having gathered, their faces pale with shock. Pushing your way through the crowd, you saw officers cordoning off the area around one of the tall buildings. People whispered all around you, the officers and paramedics’ voices booming as they wheeled a stretcher carrying the now lifeless body of one of the city officials. You felt your stomach churn, bile rising in your throat as you turned to leave, thankful it wasn’t Anakin that was on that stretcher.
You didn’t get far as an arm reached out and dragged you into an alleyway, a hand covering your mouth as a big body pressed you up against the wall. You struggled, stopping when you looked up only to meet the Batman’s eyes. They looked awfully familiar, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it as you started struggling again.
“You shouldn’t be here” his voice was deeper than you had expected, raspy and cold. “The killer could be around here” he lowered his hand when you stopped struggling, eyes never leaving yours.
“What’s it to you where I am? Planning on sacrificing my life as well?” you sighed as he loosened his grip on you, yet his hold was firm enough for you to not be able to slip away.
“Just get out of here” his voice was low as he spoke, his face much closer to yours than you remembered it being. The deep voice from earlier dropped, and at this proximity, it didn’t take you long to recognize the man under the mask.
“Anakin?” you whispered, eyes wide in fear. You were in denial, hoping he’d call you crazy for assuming he was Skywalker, but he didn’t. He simply asked you to leave once again, his hands leaving your body, and that was all the confirmation you needed. “How? Why would you not tell me?”
He didn’t reply, instead looking away and stepping back, ready to leave you alone with your unanswered questions once again. You grabbed his arm, and suddenly it all made sense, the way he’d tense when you saw a headline about The Batman, the way he went quiet when you expressed your disdain for this so-called hero, the way he never answered your calls at certain hours of the night.
“Stop leaving me to answer the questions all by myself” your voice was shaky, the lump in your throat making it hard for you to push the words out.
“You figured it out, congratulations. Now get out of here” he turned to you, voice urgent, blue eyes piercing and cold, the black paint around them highlighting the color that once had you in a trance.
“I don’t understand, why would you not tell me?”
“Because now that you know, we can’t be together” they were the last words you expected to hear tonight, and they completely froze your body in place, tears slowly making their way down your cheeks. His hand reached up, his gloved thumb wiping away your tears, his voice suddenly soft, “Don’t cry. You hate The Batman for a reason, and I can't risk your life”
You stood still, your hands gripping his wrist as your tears continued to flow. It was only the shrill screams that broke the both of you out of whatever trance had settled over you. He gave you one last glance before leaving you to wonder if you were ever going to talk to him again.
────
ib this, for @t03soup
#ꨄ lanita writes#anakin skywalker#anakin skywalker imagine#anakin skywalker x you#anakin x reader#anakin x you#anakin fanfiction#star wars anakin#star wars#hayden christensen#hayden christensen x reader#x reader#angst#batman
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🧚🏾♀️Messages From Your Queer Ancestors✨
I'm backkkkk, check Patreon for my extended general version of this reading!
AHHHH I'm so excited to launch my Patreon, you guys don't even know about all the ideas I have lined up and I'm sure there's more to come as this month goes on! Anyway these photos are all from pinterest buttt see if you can guess who's a very important figure and whyy 😽
1. So a few of you in this pile are trying to force yourself to forgive qhen you don't actually want to (or need to) and for the rest you're almost bulldozing over your identity and how it's affected you. I have a feeling you hang around people who don't know about your identities and would outright make fun of you or disrespect you in some way because of it. Your ancestors are way more sad than angry; if anything they're sad that these people are around you and they're sad that you don't honor or place importance on those aspects of your identity enough to walk away from them. Some of you might believe you'll never find people who truly accept and understand all these aspects of you so you've completely given up on it. Your environment might now is definitely very homophobic/transphobic or just xenophobic in general. While you might've been born in these environment or have had to stay in it, your queer ancestors want you to believe in yourself and in your queer identities; those aspects matter just as much as other parts of yourself. They want you to focus on creating an exit/escape plan out of this situation and to find the strength and hope in you to believe you will be able to find the right people one day instead of just completely shutting this idea out.
2. Things are going to change for you very, very soon. Some of you may be doubting a partner or a close friend in terms of loyalty or how much they love/respect you, but you'll soon realize these are just fears with no real basis. You will hit the jackpot somehow or you'll realize you have already in some area of your life. If you're financially broke right now, there's an idea or action you take that'll be the jackpot literally in terms of money and its something you didn't expect to happen, or at least to such a large degree. Keep doing what you're doing and the truth will be revealed to you soon.
3. I feel like me and your queer ancestors would've been good buddies and they've been so nice to me since the beginning of this reading. You're blessed spirituality in terms of family even if your immediate family right now is dog shit. You all however are really tired. I'm getting for most of you this isn't necessarily physically but more tired of people trying to fuck you over or fuck with you in general. You might've had to cut a lot of people out and seek justice or revenge in some way; ways that might be very tedious or draining like filing paperwork, legal battles, etc. I'm sincerely sorry if you have experienced some form of assault especially sexual assault please rest assured you will get justice whether through the system or not. You feel really tired pile 3 and this might sound infantilizing but I mean it in the sweetest way, you need a hug. You need someone to be understanding of you and you might wish you had someone physical to rant to. This might not bring you much comfort but your ancestors are watching your struggles and they wish they could coddle and baby you. A few of them see you as a baby and it breaks their heart that their baby is so stressed out 🥹 they are still proud of you and are rooting for you ad wish to send you lots of money so you can focus on self-care. Don't be afraid to ask for help if you need it pile 3!
4. Some of you feel very stagnant or just stuck in a situation especially financially. You might've realized something was a scam or actually wasn't going to lead to anything more; this could be about staying at a toxic workplace in hopes of getting a promotion or being transferred to a better team. I'm also having a hard time focusing on your reading so you might just be feeling overwhelmed or scattered. You realized a situation would never get better but now you don't know what to do or you've convinced yourself you have no other options left that are any better. However, I'm getting this really isn't true and it might take a drastic change in your mindset in order to see the potential of other possibilities. This could be realizing going back to school or learning a trade might not be so bad or that maybe relying on online income (influencing, youtube, etc.) Could actually be a real plan. These are just examples but your queer ancestors are really begging you to try and think outside of the box and realize "standard" job opportunities might not be as reliable as they seem and that options that seem very flaky, can be very stable if you put in the work.
#pick a card#pick a pile#pac#queer tarot#tarot reading#tarot#love tarot reading#lgbtq#two spirit#vodou#transgender#queer#pride month#pride
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ot13 finding out you didn't bias them prior to dating~
was talking to one of my moots *cough cough* @lavnderwonu *cough cough* like over a month ago and got this idea lmfaoooo. Hope y'all enjoy it. I used this reddit to get the names of their individual fandoms btw.
Warnings: Sulky Seventeen, fluffy, some cussing lmao.
Also adding random songs that I listen to while writing their parts. <3 Also this was randomized. If you want a specific scenario with someone pls lmk
ღ S. Coups -> Wonwoo
(Song Note: this song is so Seuncheol coded and it breaks me)
"Babe," you warned your curious boyfriend who just found out that you were a full blown Carat with a bias prior to being with him. He asked who was your bias fully expecting it to be him but that was not the truth. Sure, Seungcheol was one of your bias wreckers but your heart belonged to another member before you both started dating and the thought of admitting that... oh boy. "What, are you telling me that you biased someone else?" Your silence was telling which made him raise an eyebrow. He then would start listing everyone which would make you laugh. When he got to Wonwoo you got a little shy before telling him "it wasn't important." He would scoff and would sit back while shaking his head. "Of course it's Wonwoo..." He then would pull out his phone and then jokingly say, "what a shame I liked him." "what?" "I'm kicking him out of Seventeen because you should be Couprang not Wonwoorideul. It's simple." You knew he was joking but still tried to win him over by saying, "baby I got smarter, I'm Couprang forever. You know this." You then would kiss his face until he started to laugh then playfully wrestle you.
ღ Jeonghan -> Dokyeom
(Song Note: Emo Carats where you at!?!?!)
Here's the thing, when Jeonghan found out that you were Kwiyeomdongmoim prior to dating him, he would feel every emotion in the span of 10 seconds. Yet, one of the main ones was pride oddly enough. Seokmin is one of his closest friends and seeing that someone he cares about a lot also cared about one of his closest friends was just precious to him? I don't see him getting jealous at all because this.
ღ Joshua -> Vernon
(Song Note: Taemin will always be that bitch and this song is proof.)
Jisoo is a confident fella yeah? Well, he likes to think so. However, his confidence took a hit when you realized that you favored a different American before you both started dating. When you casually told him you were a Dolly prior he would say that it didn't bother him but he'd bring it up in front of Hansol which would just make you all flustered. However, it would backfire at Jisoo when Hansol would clapback and say "isn't that a L for you though, hyung? You weren't even (Y/N)'s first choice." This would give Jisoo the crazy eyes because the audacity.
ღ Jun -> Seungkwan
(Song Note: forever one of my favorite Taylor songs <3)
Jun isn't a jealous person really so when he found out that you were a Boosadan he would just smile because Seungkwan deserves support and he was so happy you supported one of his friends he cares a lot about. When you were hanging out the next time with Seungkwan, Jun would mention that you were a Boosadan which you would get embarrassed about bc ??? that was confidential lmao. Seungkwan would then ask you if you were now a Huihui or still a Boosadan. Jun would scoff but then would be taken aback when you said "Still Boosadan bc I doubt you'd expose me like this."
ღ Hoshi -> S Coups
(Song Note: ooo this might be a song preference song in future <3)
Just call Soonyoung 'Mr. Pouty Pants' because when he found out that you were Couprang instead of Horangdan he would feel so betrayed. Even if you were to tell him that he was your favorite now it wouldn't matter because Seungcheol was your first. If you were ever all together, he would always put himself in between you and Seungcheol which would make Seungcheol so confused but you couldn't bring yourself to admit why your dork of a boyfriend was acting weird LMAO.
ღ Wonwoo -> Jeonghan
(Song Note: the way this song has my whole heart lately.)
To be honest, Wonwoo doesn't really give vibes that he would be jealous as much as other members. Especially if it came to you biasing any of the members except him. End of the day you were dating him and not whoever you liked once upon a time. When he found out you were a Jjongjjongie’s fan prior to dating him, he would find it cute. He didn't blame you on bit. He would humblebrag to Jeonghan in private that his fans were moving on from Jeonghan to him though to tease him tho hahaha.
ღ Woozi -> Joshua
(Song Note: Nina Nesbitt will always be that pop girlie that's criminally underrated.)
Oh Jihoon is a lowkey jealous type and I will die on this hill. Like you might not even notice he is jealous most of the time. However, when he found out you were a Joshushushu (is this real Carats bc omg.) he was not as lowkey about it. In fact if you were in a faux fight he might say, "go to Jisoo if you think it would be better." It would make you laugh and you would have to shower him attention for him to realize that he was your choice forever and always.
ღ Dokyeom -> Mingyu
(Song Note: Gray pls make a company and have all of the AOMG people that left join it pls I miss this era.) UPDATE GRAY DID LMFAOOOO #DUOVER
Look, Mingyu is Seokmin's soulmate and best friend. However, when he found out that his other soulmate (you) was a Gyuldaengie before y'all started to date he would be a little self conscious. He knows how handsome his best friend is and would need extra love and reassurance that you want him.
ღ Mingyu -> Minghao
(Song Note: ugh i miss this era of ikon so bad.)
Oh Lord, Mingyu finding out that you biased anyone other than him before you dated made him the poutiest of pouts in the ENTIRE universe. Then when it was Minghao out of all people? Oh he was so dramatic about it. He would just be sitting there with a "fake sulk" and you would have to reassure him that he was like your biggest bias wrecker and end of the day you chose his cute ass and not Minghao's and that would make it a bit bearable. Whenever y'all were out and Minghao was around though he would be a lot more touchy and would be "more protective" about you hahaha.
ღ Minghao -> Hoshi
(Song Note: this song is always in my head at 2 am and idk why. it's so good but send help.)
Minghao found out about you being a 'horangdan' the same time Soonyoung sound out. Soonyoung would be a giggly mess and Minghao would just be deadpan. He would be giving you side eye when you were like "You had me at Horanghe or whatever." Soonyoung and you would do the 'Horanghe' hand sign around Minghao just to annoy him because you both found 'Sulky Hao' hilarious and cute. All of you knew this wasn't serious and end of the day you were Minghao's partner. But damn, if this didn't give him more fuel for the Anti Tiger Agenda though...
ღ Seungkwan -> Dino
(Song Note: It's Maestro era but I'm still stuck in this era ;-;)
You were never planning on telling Seungkwan or hell even Chan that you used to be a full blown Dinonara before you started dating Seungkwan but it happened after a few shots with both of them plus Hansol. Y'all were playing 'Never Have I Ever' and both Chan and Hansol were trying everything in their power to get you out. "Never have I ever..." Hansol would say while glaring at you which would make both Seungkwan and you just giggle, "never have I ever ONLY been a Boosadan." Seungkwan coo'd then looked at your fingers and gasped when he realized none of them went down, "Are you cheating on me with one of my members?" "i-it was before we started dating." "Who?" all of them said now curious for different reasons. Hansol because it was tea, Chan because he was genuinely curious, and Seungkwan because he wanted to kick their ass lmao. You just glanced at Chan and then back at Seungkwan hoping that was enough and it was. Chan realized as well and then was like "wait so you cheated on me?" That would make the younger one run for his life as Seungkwan chased him while you and Hansol just laughed at their chaos.
ღ Vernon -> Jun
(Song Note: This song is so underrated imo. idk why kpop fans sleep on great songs like this.)
When Hansol found out that you biased Jun he wouldn't even be all that surprised because he understood. He knew his hyung was a super stannable person because hell even the rest of Seventeen (him included) was a huge Huihui. I feel like Hansol would just be very confident in your relationship but I feel like he would also tease you to a degree about it. Like if you got into a not serious fight he'd just be like "go to Jun then and see if he can handle your delusions like me." hahaha.
ღ Dino -> Woozi
(Song Note: It's Maestro era pt 2 but also still stuck in this era as well.)
Chan can get a bit jealous, we know. However, when you told him before y'all started dating you were Woozidan all he could think of was "fair." Even though it's 'useless' having 12 hyungs sometimes, he does have a lot of love and respect for them; especially Jihoon. However, he would tease you about it and would say "you're a Dinonara officially now though right?" lmaoooo
#wonuwrites#seventeen#svt x reader#seventeen reactions#svt fluff#wonwoo#jeonghan#hoshi#joshua#jun#s coups#woozi#dk#woozi x reader#s coups x reader#jeonghan x reader#joshua x reader#jun x reader#hoshi x reader#wonwoo x reader#dk x reader#mingyu x reader#mingyu#svt#jeon wonwoo#minghao#the8#the8 x reader#vernon#vernon x reader
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Fate’s Design
[Carlisle Cullen x Female!Reader]
Synopsis: Not even fate can stop forbidden love. {GIF Credits: Pinterest}
WC: 2051
Category: Angst (with a side of fluff)
Can you tell I rewatched Twilight? 👀 Edward? Jacob? Nah, I’m team Carlisle all the way.
In all seriousness, this took me so long to write out since I’m in that stage of life where there’s no free time 😭
But, regardless, here’s a fic that no one asked for (and hopefully won’t mind 👀). So, uh… enjoy :)
『••✎••』
Funny, how the world works, how fate works.
The day you had first laid eyes on him, you could tell immediately there was something different about him, something... strange. Stranger than strange.
A simple hospital visit, a clumsy fall down the stairs, and here you were, stuck in a place of healing with the smell of antiseptics and disinfectant all around you. For a simple wrist sprang, being around deathly ill people who had no sense of common courtesy was the last thing you wanted to experience.
Still, it couldn't be helped, and so you endured. Endured until that one fateful encounter.
When the nurses brought him into the room, you couldn't help but stare. A young, handsome man who looked barely a few years older than you, pale, cold skin that reminded you of the snowy tundras, and bright eyes you swore turned gold in the light.
Strange, yes. Very strange. But a very good kind of strange, the kind of strange that was captivating.
Carlisle Cullen.
You couldn't help but smile as you thought of the name, as the memories came back to you. The first meeting, the second, and then the third. You remembered all of them, every single one, and the way your heart fluttered like a caged bird each time, wanting to break free.
How long had it been since that first meeting? Five months? Six?
You couldn't be sure, but it was enough.
Enough for you to know that you loved him.
How funny, how ironic, how cruel fate was, giving you someone to love and then making it impossible to be with him.
You were just an average girl with average interests and average talents who had a boring, average job that didn't pay much and was living an average life.
But you were human; he was not.
You were a creature that could live, grow, age, and eventually die while he was frozen in time, a beautiful, timeless statue with an old soul that lived a hundred years in the span of one.
You knew this, he knew this, and that was what held you both back.
Even though you loved him, even though when he looked at you, his eyes burned with the same emotions you felt, the two of you were still unable to come together.
You would’ve given up had it not been for your own stubbornness, your own will to hold on, to see this through to the end.
He was worth it, and you knew it.
And so, you decided it didn’t matter if your time with him would be short because you would spend it happily, without regret.
After all, a few months spent with him was better than none at all.
You found yourself storming into the hospital, pure determination set on your face as you went up to the reception desk and demanded to know where Carlisle Cullen was.
The nurse gave you an odd look but didn’t question you further, and after giving her the information she needed, she directed you to his office.
You were assured he was filing papers, so you didn’t bother with knocking. Instead, you barged in with the burning desire to make your mark, to make your presence known, to show him, without any doubt, how you felt.
You didn't care if he was startled by your sudden entrance, and as you approached him, he stood up, surprise written on his face.
"I’m done, Carlisle," you said, your tone final, a declaration. "I’m so done."
He tilted his head in confusion.
Your hands came to a fist as you rested them against his desk, eyes narrowed and burning.
"I'm done holding back," you said, voice steady. "If you don’t kiss me right now, I'll never forgive you."
Your name came out as a soft sigh from his lips, and you couldn’t stop the shudder that ran through you at the sound of it. The mellow, gentle tone that held your entire being was always catching you off guard, even after all this time.
It wasn’t fair; it really wasn't.
"Kiss me, goddamnit!" You yelled at him, the demand clear in your tone.
And, like always, he denied you. In fact, he practically told you to shut up in his own way by bringing attention that you were still… quite literally, in the hospital.
You didn’t care. It was obvious by the way you kept going at him, demanding he take action.
And then, a gush of wind.
Your eyes widened, and before you could utter a word, the door from behind slammed shut. Not enough to create a loud bang, but enough to get your attention, and when you looked over, his arm was extended out, hand resting on the door.
Just inches away from your head.
Your heart skipped a beat as you looked up at him.
He was towering over you completely, and the proximity made your breathing hitch. His gaze was intense and golden, and it burned right through you like it always did. But you weren’t scared, not even the slightest bit.
This was what you wanted, after all.
So you kept silent and waited for him to make the first move. Any move, really.
A few seconds passed, and then, ever so slowly, he lowered his head. But he didn't lean down far enough, no. Instead, his face inched closer and closer to yours until, finally, all you could see were his eyes.
And all you could think about was his lips.
"As much as I want to," he began, voice soft and smooth. "You and I both know it's not that easy."
"Yes, it is," you retorted, stubborn. "You're just making it hard."
"I'm being realistic."
"Realistic? Really?" Your face twisted into a scowl. "Says the man who's not even human."
"That's precisely why," he said. "You’re…"
His voice quivered, just slight enough to be noticeable. It made your heart ache, and you were ready to interrupt him, to say that it didn’t matter; nothing else did.
But you stopped yourself.
It was only right to hear what he had to say.
"You truly wish to want… this? To give up the happiness of your future, the family you deserve, to be drowned in sorrow, all for me?"
His words were sincere, his voice quiet, and the expression on his face was one you could barely comprehend.
"Drowned…? Drowned?!" You echoed his words; brows knitted in a deep frown. "Carlisle, I'm already drowning! Right now!"
You paused, trying to calm yourself, but you could feel tears prickling your eyes. This wasn’t how you had imagined it going.
"It hurts," you confessed, voice low. "It hurts me that you don’t understand, that you think so little of yourself."
Carlisle's breath caught, and his lips parted in surprise, but you weren’t finished yet.
"It hurts me that you think I could ever be happy without you," you continued, your voice rising a bit. “Carlisle, I have found happiness in you. I am happy with you. The day we met, I was a wreck; my wrist was a wreck… everything was a wreck. But then you came, and now, now I'm happy. You make me happy."
The look on his face was unreadable, but it didn’t deter you from speaking your mind.
"Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you see that you’ll always be twice the man than any other human being out there?"
Silence.
He didn’t answer, and the longer the silence stretched, the more your heart hurt. Carlisle was a good man; he was. He was a good doctor, a good father, and, of course, a good-looking guy.
He deserved the world.
And if the world couldn't give it to him, you would.
"If you can't see it, then fine," you finally spoke, and it was almost a whisper. "Then I'll do it for you. I'll tell you every day. I'll keep telling you until it sticks."
The corners of your mouth tugged upwards into a shaky smile.
"Even if I have to keep yelling at you."
He exhaled, and suddenly, he looked much more relaxed, and you realized that you had gotten through to him.
It made the tears that were gathering in your eyes spill over.
"At least I know you wouldn’t toss me aside when my personality eventually overpowers my looks," you mumbled, laughing.
"Toss you aside?"
There was a sudden, sharp edge to his tone, and when his hand came to rest under your chin, gently, carefully, your eyes shot up, staring into his own.
You didn't realize it, but the way you looked at him, the expression on your face, it made him see something different, something he never expected.
A woman who loved him. Truly, sincerely, deeply, and completely.
He couldn’t believe it, and yet, you were right there, in front of him, your eyes shining and reflecting nothing but adoration and admiration.
Your eyes were shining, but not with sadness, no, not anymore.
It was a beautiful sight, one he would remember for all of eternity.
"I'd be a fool to do that," he whispered, his tone sincere, and when his other hand came up, his fingers brushing over your cheek, a featherlight touch, he could hear your breath catch.
"A complete and utter fool."
You watched the smile grow on his lips, and it was so beautiful, it was unreal.
But this, the feeling of his hand on your skin, the coldness contrasted by the warmth of your own body, the gentleness of his touch, it was surreal.
"Carlisle," you murmured, and he was still staring at you, but there was a new intensity in his gaze. "Let me give you the happiness you deserve. Let me."
You took a small step forward, and his hand was still resting under your chin. You didn't dare move or speak again, not until you could read his face, the expression on his features.
It was difficult, however, and just when you thought he wouldn't say anything, he spoke.
"I can't guarantee the future or the happiness," he admitted. "Not for myself, and not for you, but-"
"But?" You couldn’t help but smirk.
"I can try," he answered. "For your sake, I'll try."
You should’ve expected the response after that, the speed at which his hand moved from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you forward, and his other hand, moving downwards to rest on the small of your back.
You should've, but you didn't.
All you could do was stare at him, your eyes widening, and just when you opened your mouth to speak, to say something, anything, his lips were on yours, and all the coherent thoughts left you.
You could hear the thumping of your heart, loud, thundering, and it drowned out all the other sounds around you.
He was gentle and careful, and the kiss was nothing more than a brief, feather-light press of his lips, but it was enough. It was enough to set your whole body on fire, to have you lean in, to have your hands come up, grasping onto his lab coat for dear life.
You could feel the coldness of his skin, but the taste of his lips was indescribable.
He tasted sweet, like vanilla, and the longer his lips were on yours, the more the flavor lingered until you couldn’t remember how your own lips had ever tasted.
When he finally pulled away, it was as if the world was spinning and all the strength left your body.
"We're not in the clear just yet," he murmured, his gaze still intense, and it sent a shiver down your spine. "There are many things we have to talk about and many things to work out, but-"
"Carlisle," you breathed out, your grip on his coat tightening. "Don’t talk. Just relish."
You leaned forward, and he did the same, his eyes fluttering shut, and as your lips connected with his, your mind was filled with a single thought.
This.
This was right.
It was perfect, and the world was a better place.
The funny thing about fate is that if two people are meant to be, no matter the time, the place, or the circumstances, they'll find each other.
The two of you were living proof.
#carlisle cullen#carlisle cullen x reader#carlisle cullen x you#carlisle cullen x female!reader#carlisle cullen imagine#twilight#twilight series#twilight x reader#twilight fanfiction#carlisle cullen/reader#fanfic#x reader#reader#fanfiction#peter facinelli#peter facinelli x reader#edward cullen#twilight new moon#twilight eclipse#twilight fandom#twilight fic#twilight fluff#twilight angst#carlisle cullen angst#fluff#angst#alice cullen#carlisle cullen fanfiction#carlisle cullen gif#the twilight saga
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no use cryin' over spilled milk | c.h./the ghoul
➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader
➥ word count | 2.8 k
➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, frottage, lactation kink, pregnant!reader, fingerfucking, praise kink, breast play, the ghoul calls reader pretty mama, he's a pervert who wants to lend a 'helping' hand
➥ summary | based off this ask; oops being an experiment from vault 4 where you may be the first rad resistant human pregnant with a possibly rad resistant baby, and you come across the ghoul who helps you get to a safe place but then he gets attached with you and the baby 🥺 (this is just me trying to insert a lactation kink somewhere i'm sorry)
➥ notes | uhhhh pls let me know if i missed anything, my brain is dribbling out my ears (its 3:44 am and i have work at 8 am rip) but the parasites persist. i'll do the tag list when i wake up ❤️
masterlist | feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | feedback is always appreciated ❤️
Going topside wasn’t an easy decision.
In fact, bile bitter regret often lingers in the back of your throat - a lump that stifled the air in your lungs.
And while you might’ve been bioengineered to survive better under these harsh wasteland conditions, every time you find yourself in a less than ideal situation, you're catapulted headlong into paralyzing self doubt; alone and rudderless.
No one lives in the vaults - not truly.
Birdie (and the others) warned you of what awaited beyond those lead-lined walls. But you couldn’t abide spending the rest of your life trapped in a cage, albeit a gilded one.
Not anymore.
Oh no, you wanted to feel a real breeze instead of air pumped through the HVAC. Experience the sun baking warm into your skin like fresh bread instead of the artificial heat of the UV lamp used for mandatory light therapy sessions. Complain about the chafe of sand in your shoes and hear the crunch of dirt under foot instead of a hollow clunk of sterile metal.
To witness first hand all the sights, sounds, and smells this world offers.
Only… you didn’t expect it to be this hard.
Nor did you expect to be pregnant when setting off into the great unknown on your own (a definite oversight on your part [you really shouldn’t have had one last hurrah before hitting the road]).
Through trial and error, motion sicknesses that swing into crippling nausea as manic energy - your first taste of true freedom! - dwindled into dragging fatigue, you found a happy medium. None of which would have been possible had it not been for the most unlikely of companions.
Ghouls; who knew, huh?
Sure, you’d heard of them from the rotating door of visitors that found themselves at Vault 4, but you’d never seen them. While you grew up surrounded by visible mutations, seeing the battlefield of his body was off putting; how a person could survive a patina of burns and patchwork slices without unraveling at the seams was beyond you.
And kind of frightening.
But he took it in stride, introducing himself as Ghoul. Refused to divulge anything else of substance no matter how much you poked and prodded. His life pre-bomb was a complete mystery filled with plot holes and unanswered questions (which is exactly what he preferred).
You learned to be comfortable with his meandering conversations, and all the words he spoke that said much of nothing. And what you did glean, you did so through observation alone.
He was alone - had been for a very long time.
He was very old - one of the last of his kind.
And he was, in his own way, very kind - at least by wasteland standards.
“The fuck you doin’?”
Pausing, you stop mid push and hover awkwardly on your hands and knees. The vault suit pulls taut across your hips, pinching behind your knees uncomfortably. Your toes squeak in your shoes, socks thoroughly soaked through with sweat.
It’s been unseasonably hot (or it’s the hormones). Whatever the case, this is the first semi-decent lodging you’ve camped in for weeks, and you’re not about to miss an opportunity to freshen up.
And maybe find a way to soothe the building ache in your tits - flesh swollen tender and nipples rubbed raw.
“I’m just, uh, gonna,” you motion towards the back of the house, the askew bathroom door clinging to its hinges by a corner, “y’know, f-freshen up. See if they don’t still have some water.”
The Ghoul scans you up and down, gimlet-eyed. “S’that so?”
You huff, your knees starting to ache.
Being five months pregnant throws your center of gravity for a loop, gravity weighing extra heavy on your bones. It doesn’t help that the baby’s decided sitting directly on your bladder with a foot tucked under your ribs is the best position.
“Didn’t know I needed permission to take a piss now,” you snipe. Usually, you try to reign in the hormones but the day’s been too long and you’re in pain. Anyone would be a little snippy (right?). “Can I do that on my own or do you need to watch, Mr. Ghoul?”
A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, his gaze glinting from beneath the rim of his hat as he tips his head. “Better watch it, sweetheart,” he says. “Otherwise, I might have’ta wash your mouth out with soap.”
Pushing yourself up with a grunt, you determinedly ignore the raspy chuckle that follows as you waddle towards the bathroom. Cussing him out all the while in your mind.
While he’s been ‘nicer’ today - stopping for extra breaks, even packing it in several hours earlier than usual because he noticed how weary you looked - he’s still an asshole.
The toilet’s gone, the tub’s tipped sideways, the linoleum’s cracked, and closing the door sounds like a pack of howling mole rats but its functional. When you catch your reflection in the spider web fractures of the mirror, you grimace.
The wastes have certainly left their mark on you. Gone is the prim-and-proper vault dweller, replaced by a gremlin of a woman Overseer Benjamin would surely scowl at.
A true ‘surfie’ now.
“Great,” you groan, scrubbing a palm over your face. “Just - ugh!”
You’re caked in grime, a steak of dirt smeared across the bridge of your nose. Mysterious stains darken the blue fabric, the golden stripes of your suit an off-putting grey.
Your hair clumps in greasy chunks. You’re glossy with sweat, and while your curves have plumped up over the last few months, you didn’t realize just how much until now.
The vault suit’s always been tight - now it clings and creases in unflattering places. And there’s nothing you can do about it, unless the Ghoul is willing to spare a sewing kit.
You could let the waist out some…
What the hell am I gonna do if he won’t? There’s no way I’ll fit if this baby gets any bigger. Shit, I look like a fucking sausage. Your hand cradles the side of your stomach, stroking over the bump with a frown. This is all your fault, you little parasite.
“You better be so fucking cute - the cutest goddamn baby in the wasteland. Or I will riot.”
Tugging down the zipper over your breasts is heaven, the swollen flesh spilling out of the parting fabric, no longer compressed. It’s almost enough to make you cry as you struggle to tug the lycra off your shoulders, the fabric putting up a fight.
After some awkward contortions that pull uncomfortably at the muscles of your shoulder blades, you manage to wrangle yourself free.
The temptation to burn the stupid goddamn suit is almost too much to resist, but then you’d really be traipsing around the wasteland in the nude and just… no.
Peeling off your undershirt is another story altogether, the soft cotton feeling like sandpaper as it scrapes over sensitive skin. Your nerves tingle with awareness, bolts of pain shooting through your nipples with every shift.
Quick like a bandaid, you think, taking a steadying inhale.
It’s a miracle you don’t scream.
Tears cling to your lashes, your nose running as you toss the shirt to the side with one hand and cradle your chest with the other. Sure, you’ve had tenderness with your period but this kind of pain? A whole new level.
You almost don’t know what to do with yourself.
How is this fair - aren’t you suffering enough?
Sniffling, you peer down at your tits and gingerly cup them with your palms. Swollen hard and warm to the touch; a heavy weight crushing your ribs.
Do I really have to milk myself like a fucking brahmin? Another bolt of lightning crackles through your nerve endings as if in response. Fine. God, this is embarrassing.
Only any attempt at touching your nipples produces pure agony, shards of glass biting into delicate skin.
No matter how slight your touch, no matter how gentle your fingers - it doesn’t work. Leaves you more distraught and in pain than when you began as inflamed nerve endings crackle and burn.
And when the tears truly start, the dam breaks. It’s not long before they drip down your cheeks in fat rivulets, your breath hitching from you in pathetic little exhales.
Your fist shoves against your mouth in an attempt to smother the sounds, teeth sinking into your knuckle until you leave sore indents.
But you should know better, not only does the Ghoul have heightened senses (he’s taunted you constantly with this fact like the asshole he is), but he’s uncannily perceptive in a very annoying way.
You don’t hear the squeal of the door, but you do sense his presence behind you; the rad warm burn of his body as he stops a scant few inches away. You feel his breath against the nape of your neck, the barest brush of his chest as he inhales.
“You ready ta stop bein’ stubborn?” he hums. “I thought I told you not ta wait s’long.”
Your voice warbles from you, “G’way.” You curl into yourself, shoulders hunching as you hang your head. “Don’t need your help.”
The Ghoul snorts. “Cuz you doin’ so well on your own, huh?”
“I resent that.” You shoot him a weak glare, the animosity ruined by the crumble of your lips. “I really, really do.”
You hate always having to rely on him, so desperate to prove that you can take care of yourself only to have every effort to do so thrown back in your face.
Shit, you hate how right Birdie was, “Honey, you won’t last five minutes on your own. Please stay here with us where it’s safe.”
“Well, maybe so. But pickers can’t be choosers, sweetheart,” he shrugs with a languid roll of the shoulders. “Ain’t no use cryin’ over spilled milk. C’mon, the longer you wait, the worse it’s gon be.”
“I just - you don’t understand…”
He reaches around you to set his hat on the sink, the dwindling light of twilight creeping in through the holes in the roof to bathe him in its bloody light.
He looks like a grotesque demon that clawed its way from the depths of hell. It gets your pulse thudding, electric awareness an unwelcome visitor as it roosts behind your navel.
“I understand plenty. Now, let me.”
Not an offer - not really.
More akin to a demand, one wrapped up pretty like a gift. You’ve been here many times before, and while the Ghoul proffers his help under the guise of not wanting to hear your bitching and moaning, the hungry gleam of his eyes as they rake over your face say otherwise.
If it’s one thing you’ve learned in your travels with him, it’s this: he is entirely self-serving. He offers because he wants to suck on a set of pretty tits. If you happen to cream your panties while he does, well, he counts it as a win-win.
Quid pro quo.
And what you hate more than how utterly correct everyone is about life on the surface, is how needy he makes you. How desperate and dumb and dripping he’s got you by the end, drunk off the flick of his tongue and the rasp of his touch.
Because it’s so hard to be strong in the face of pain when the solution is right there; open-palmed.
“...Fine, just don’t - don’t leave marks this time, okay?”
A slow waking smile creaks across his face, and he says, “I ain’t makin’ any promises, sweetheart.”
Your stomach swoops, and your thighs clench.
Shit.
Scarred lips work over tender flesh as a talented tongue flicks and swirls over the bumps of your areola, the tip digging into your nipple and drawing the swollen nub into a hot mouth. You whimper, arms tossed over the Ghoul’s broad shoulders.
Cold ceramic digs into the base of your spine, your body crowded back against the sink as he plasters himself to your front. Cuts off any escape routes and refuses to let you squirm away from the overwhelming sensations as he suckles.
Heavy palms grope at the plush curves of your hips, fingertips digging into the fat.
His lips pop off your nipple with a sticky pop. “Always taste s’fucking good,” he groans against your sternum. “Got the prettiest tits in the wasteland.”
“Hnn! N-Not so hard.”
While you say that, you don’t mean it - not really. Your pussy throbs in time with your heartbeat, clit swollen and aching for friction. Your inner thighs are a mess of slick, your vault suit caught around your knees.
He never touches you below the waist directly (some boundaries still exist between you two), but at this point in your pregnancy, you’re so sensitive a gentle breeze could set you off.
“Heh, ain’t you know lyin’s a sin?” he says.
A scarred cheek drags over the swell of your breast, the rasp of rad burn alighting your nerves. Bolts of desire ricochet down your spine, fizzle like Nuka Cola on your tongue. He presses an open mouth kiss to your nipple, his tongue flicking out to massage the tender bud.
At the taste of your skin, his cock twitches where its grinding against your thigh. You feel him through his ragged pinstripe slacks, his shaft a thick line of heat.
It’s probably the hormones (you refuse to admit its anything else) but just the thought of touching him, of sinking down onto his erection - feeling how fucking good he’d stretch you out and fill you up - makes you dizzy.
You pant, your voice distinctly whiny when you say, “Please, d-do something. It still hurts.”
His grin reminds you of the mongrels roaming the wastelands. “Sh,” he hushes you. “I got you, sweetheart.”
The tips of his fingers brush along the side of your swollen stomach. Your heart flips in your chest, your breath catching as he follows the contours of your body, reaching down to brush over the skin of your mound. This is new, he’s never done this before. It’s simultaneously as arousing as it is terrifying.
“Can smell how wet you are for me,” he says, tone low and gruff. “You gonna be a good girl for me, ain’t you?”
“I-”
Then his mouth is slurping at your tit, his teeth biting down on your nipple gently as those strong fingers dip between your thighs. Blunt nails scratch through your pubic hair, a calloused pad swirling circles around your slippery clit. Your hips jump, your head rolling back between your shoulders as a loud moan rips itself from your throat.
You arch back so far your belly presses against the Ghoul’s, your tits smothering his face.
You think, half deliriously, it’s a good thing he doesn’t have a nose otherwise you might’ve broken it.
“Shit, that’s so - oh, fuck, please, please, please!’
Your legs widen to make room for his hand as yours fly up to grab his biceps, nails biting into the rough leather of his duster.
His tongue flutters across your areola. “C’mon, pretty mama, give it ta me.”
“Oh.” Sparks dance behind your eyes, your knees shaking as the Ghoul strokes over your folds, tests your wetness and the give of your cunt as he plays with your entrance. “Right there,” you gasp. “I’m gonna…”
He grunts, tugging on your nipple with his teeth.
The sharp bite of pain shoots through you, deepens the kindling warmth behind your navel that steadily builds and builds and builds. You feel on the very edge, nerves plucked like the keys of a piano.
So close you can taste it.
Then a tingling starts in the tips of your fingers.
Burns its way up your arms to settle in the weight of your chest, pins and needles pricking across the skin of your tits, lancing through the swollen buds of your nipples.
You tremble, the relief bringing tears to your eyes as tears the heaviness releases in a warm flood, your milk letting down to flow into the Ghoul’s eagerly pulling mouth.
“Fuckin’ finally,” he moans, chasing after the taste by nuzzling into your chest. His cock ruts against you. “Took you’re sweet damn time, didn’t you, darlin’?”
Your head spins, hazy thoughts scattering like confetti.
Endorphins simmer through your veins as you float on a cloud of cotton softness. Reality seems worlds away, your vision blurry as you focus on the points of contact between your bodies. The stretch of his fingers plunging into your pussy to stroke over the front wall.
Mouth slack, your hands creep up the Ghoul’s arms to trace over the sides of his neck, watch the dance of your fingers over his skin. “It feels s’good,” you slur. “Please don’t stop - wanna cum just like this.”
“Heh, wouldn’t dream of it.”
#cooper howard x reader#cooper howard x you#the ghoul x reader#the ghoul x you#cooper howard smut#the ghoul smut#cooper howard#the ghoul#fallout fanfic
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♱Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Eighteen♱
Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader
Fandom: Hazbin Hotel
Chapter Eighteen
Warnings: profanity
Visit the first tag on this post to see all other chapters.
♱ In which the purest soul in Heaven falls from grace… for the Devil. ♱
[Chapter Eighteen]
a/n: holy shit 2k words long? This is worth two whole chapters yall ig that’s how yk shits about to go down
Your feet hit the ground, the darkness of the alleyway shrouding with you with the shadows as you retracted your wings into your back, making them disappear. Peeking your head round the corner, you tentatively stepped out.
You prayed you wouldn’t be too noticeable- surely you couldn’t draw too much attention if you just acted natural. Weaving through the people on the streets, you made your way through the town.
You’d seen it from overhead, strangely one of the only places that seemed more welcoming than the rest of the areas in Hell. Your wings had been aching after spending so long flying that you’d given in and let yourself down.
You tried to not make eye contact with anyone, but accidentally glanced at a couple of people’s faces, noticing the strange lack of eyes, instead pairs of black holes replacing them in people’s faces. Gulping, you kept your gaze glued back to the ground.
You saw your silhouette flash in the corner of your vision through a shop window, and involuntarily froze, stepping closer to the grass. You looked different.
More demonic.
You tried to swallow the lump growing in your throat as you took in your new appearance, bile rising in your throat before quickly turning away and briskly moving on.
“Ow!”
You stumbled back, unable to stop a small curse escaping your lips. A woman stared at you, her knuckles turned white at clutching her umbrella as she tipped her hat back to get a proper look at you, empty black eyes roving up and down your body.
So much for not drawing any attention.
Gulping again, and you tried to squeak out a small “Sorry!” Before trying to hurry around her, but she stopped you, a hand on your arm pulling you back.
“Are you alright, dear?” She asked, face soft with concern. You blinked. “Your face’s all cut up.”
“Is it? Oh.” You laughed nervously. “I didn’t notice. I-I’ll be fine.” You tried to pull away but her grip tightened. You looked up at her in panic.
“I’ve seen you somewhere,” she said, and now her face had turned serious. You laughed even harder this time, the sound hysterically tumbling from you as you tried to reel the situation back under your control.
“I doubt you have, miss,” you assured her quickly, before turning away, right into someone else’s chest.
You looked up, and all you saw was red.
“Now, I’m sure I have.” She shuffled over to both you and the tall red man. You caught two small antlers poking out from his hair, and stifled a chuckle. “I’m Rosie, and this is Alastor.” She gestured over to the deer. He extended a hand, static crackling in his voice.
“Pleasure to be meeting you, dear,” he grinned. You stared at the hand, before taking it gingerly.
“And you…” her eyes fixed onto you. “You’re the fallen angel.”
You opened your mouth but no sound came out. Alastor’s red eyes narrowed onto you. You felt them burning, and looked away as you let out a small, tense chuckle. “Guilty.”
Rosie laughed, slapping a hand onto Alastor’s shoulder. “Oh sweetheart, don’t worry.” Her lips stretched into an even wider smile.
“We won’t eat you,” Alastor smirked.
“Although you do look delicious.”
You didn’t know whether to be thankful or not. “Oh. Thank you.”
Alastor’s hand found your arm, nails digging into your skin as he drew you close, linking arms. “But we would like it if you could…”
“Join us for tea!” Rosie cut in. They both shared a meaningful glance.
You looked at the sky, heart thrumming insistently. “It’s getting quite dark.”
“Perfect,” Alastor replied, voice dripping with something sinister as he and Rosie led you through the streets to outside a small café. Rosie’s hands closed around your shoulders.
“We can get you something nice to wear on the way,” she said, glancing pointedly at your torn clothes.
“Lovely,” you muttered. They both smiled.
-
“So. Tell us everything.”
Rosie and Alastor both smiled at you expectantly over the table. You stared at the steaming cups before you, then them, then back at the cups.
“Look, I…I appreciate this.” You gestured to the table, the tea, your fresh clothes. “Whatever this even is. But I need to leave.”
Alastor once again put his hand on your arm. You stared down at it. “I suggest otherwise, dear,” he said, smile strained and sharp as his eyes flickered with embers. You slowly lowered yourself back into the chair, gulping.
“Tell us. Why exactly are you in Hell?” He knitted his fingers together, face inquisitive. Rosie took a sip of the tea.
“I’d rather not disclose that information,” you said coldly. Rosie laughed.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I think you would.” She smiled sweetly.
You scowled, gripping a tighter hold on your cup.
“Don’t frown now, honey. You know you’re never…”
“Fully dressed without a smile,” Alastor finished. He leaned closer. “Why are you in Hell?”
You didn’t say anything.
Rosie’s face softened. “Come now, honey. You know we only want to help you.” She placed her hand over yours, and it was soft, warm. Her face held sincerity. “We just want to know what happened to you.”
You sneaked a suspicious look at Alastor, one that didn’t go unnoticed.
“I apologise if I may have come off as…” he waved his hand. “Strong. Off putting.” He sighed. “Believe me, darling, if we had wanted to hurt you or take you by force we would have.” He shot you a meaningful glance. “Most sinners wouldn’t be as forgiving.”
You gulped, a powerful wave of fatigue suddenly crashing over you as the events of the past few days finally caught up to you.
“You can trust us, sweetie,” Rosie said softly.
You dragged your hands across your face. “I…Heaven kicked me out…”
“We can tell,” Alastor remarked. “Why?”
“I got in a relationship with a…” you waved your hand around vaguely. “A resident of this place.”
“Who?”
You chewed your lip, their soft words coaxing out tired and broken answers. “Lucifer.”
The both fell into shocked silence, and exchanged another glance. But you ploughed on, determined to finish now that you had started. “They found out, cause someone-“ Your throat closed up “-tipped them off, and kicked me out.” You rose, spreading your palms across the table. “I need to find Lucifer and Charlie. Lucifer-“ you choked up. “He’ll help me. I know he will.”
“Is your name [name], by any chance?” Rosie raised an eyebrow. You looked at her and Alastor.
“Yes.” Your eyes narrowed.
“Charlie mentioned you,” Alastor explained. He quickly looked at Rosie, and flicked his head in one subtle movement. Rosie’s brows shot up, but she walked away, leaving you and Alastor standing in the flickering lights of the café window.
“You know Charlie?” You asked, eyes brightening with hope, but your question was ignored.
“I’m afraid I have something to tell you, dear,” he chuckled, adjusting his monocle as he stood up and drew you in by the shoulder. He flicked his cane, gesturing to the darkening streets. “Shall we go for a stroll?”
You stared at him. “Sure.”
You both started off down the street, his arm still firm around your shoulder. “So, Lucifer and Charlie, is it?”
You nodded wordlessly.
“And you think they’ll help you?”
Your stomach twisted with dread, but your chest clenched with determination. “I don’t think, I know.”
He looked at you with pity. It made your shoulders tremble. “I wouldn’t be too sure, darling.”
“What do you mean.” You clenched your hands into fists, fighting to keep your voice even as he broke away to face you.
“I mean, my dear, that they won’t.”
You laughed, but it was forced. “And explain that to me.”
He leaned on his cane nonchalantly, and a burst of anger flared up in your gut. “Charlie… she was the one who tipped off Heaven.” He inspected his nails closely.
“No she wasn’t,” you pointed out sharply. “It was Lute- the general-“ you winced. “-the new leader of the exorcist army.”
“Really? And you think the word of one single person could convince Heaven?” He stepped closer. “What evidence exactly did Lute provide?”
You stared at him. “A bracelet.”
He laughed mockingly. “A bracelet.” Your face burned with embarrassment. “Tell me, my dear, exactly how a bracelet could provide suitable, concrete evidence?”
You thought hard, but couldn’t come up with anything. “It was a special bracelet. It could have raised suspicions-“
“But they would need someone to confirm them.”
As much as you hated this, everything he was saying made sense. And you couldn’t come up with anything to counter his argument. “You’re just a stranger. Why should I listen to you?”
“Whether you listen to me or not is up to you.” His cheshire grin glinted in the dark night. “But perhaps you should simply hear me.”
You chewed your lip. “Go on, then.” You flicked your hand at him.
“As for Lucifer… when you landed here, in Hell, it was on the news, yes?”
You nodded, dread making you feel lightheaded.
“Lucifer saw, and he simply said that you could help yourself.” He stepped even closer. “That he wouldn’t care if you lived or died- that you had landed here by your own fault, and that you weren’t his problem.” He leaned down to whisper in your ear. “That he didn’t care about you.”
You froze.
“He didn’t love you,” Alastor continued, before flicking his eyes up to your face. “But it isn’t your fault that you’re here, is it darling?” You couldn’t make a sound. “He tempted you.”
“You don’t even know half the story,” you said shakily. “You don’t know the truth.”
“For all you know, he could have set you up.”
“No, no. No… you don’t…” you tried to move away, but you couldn’t.
“If he truly loved you, don’t you think he’d try and save you?”
“You have no proof.” Your fist clenched even tighter, nails cutting into your palm and drawing golden blood.
“Oh, but I do.”
And with that, he tapped the microphone on his cane. You stood, enraptured, as Lucifer’s unmistakeable voice flowed out.
“I don’t care if she lives or dies. I don’t care at all…” It crackled, then cut to another audio. “No, I don’t love her…” Another. “…someone else…” Another. “[name] isn’t my problem. It’s her own fault she’s ended up here. Try to save her? Are you serious? Just leave her for the Vees.”
The last one was a blow to your chest.
“Love her? Are you serious? She’s just some girl, a good distraction for a while.”
You sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly again. Turning away. “I need to go,” you gasped, and before Alastor could grab you you’d flung yourself into the dark night, your mind a storm of thoughts.
Eventually, the familiar shadow of a building loomed into the distance. The building where the three overlords had captured you.
They were powerful. They were useful.
The window was still broken. You flapped your wings as you slowed to a stop, kicking your legs out to lose momentum before dropping into the room, gingerly stepping over the broken glass scattered across the floor. You looked up and around. The room was dark and empty.
Taking in a shuddery breath, you sank to the floor.
Reality finally crashed over you.
Tears stung your eyes, sobs bubbling up past your throat as you fought to stifle them vainly. They racked through your body, tears streaming down your face as you covered your mouth.
Adam died, Lute hated you, you’d never see Emily again because you’d let Lucifer tempt you. You dragged your nails across your skin, relishing in the pain it gave you, the pain that morphed into anger.
He had tempted you. Had you forgotten who he really was? What he really was?
He was the devil. He was temptation incarnate, and he had sought to lead you to ruin. The burning-red thoughts made your head spin, turning you dizzy with fury. The reason you were lying here, bruised and broken, seeking those who wanted to harm you, was him.
The anger dissipated, breaking down back into sadness. How could he just leave me like this? Was I a mere distraction? Your heart tore apart.
He took everything from me.
The door to the room slowly creaked open, and you heard someone swear, footsteps racing towards you.
“You-“
You looked up. Velvette stepped back quickly, startled. “What happened to you?”
Vox followed soon after her. You searched, but Valentino was nowhere to be found. “Oh, you, great, you’re here. Wait, why the fuck are you here?”
“We’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Velvette chipped. You blinked at her hazily.
“Look, we-“ Vox seemed disconcerted at your strangely calm demeanour, despite your crazed appearance, but ploughed on. “Ignore Valentino. We want you to work with us.”
“Work with you?” You murmured softly. Your lips barely moved.
“Yes. Work.” Velvette looked at you. “You’re an angel. You’re, like, ten times more powerful than any other sinner or overlord here in Hell.”
“You’d be a perfect addition to our team,” Vox finished.
You looked at them both for what seemed like ages. They both glanced at eachother, wondering if you were going to say anything.
Finally, you spoke: “What’s in it for me?”
“We’ll give you anything you want,” Vox said, voice laced with desperation. “Power, money, safety. We’ll give you anything.”
You hummed thoughtfully.
“Just tell us what you want,” Velvette assured you. “What do you want, angel girl?” You looked up at her, finally finding your answer.
“Revenge.”
#father forgive me (for i have sinned) lucifer morningstar x angel!reader#father forgive me (for i have sinned) lucifer morningstar x angel!reader -chapter eighteen#shitposting#lucifer x reader#memes#hazbin hotel fanfiction#romance#funny#hazbin fanfic#lucifer morningstar x reader#hazbin hotel#lucifer morningstar#lucifer x reader fanfic#lucifer#lucifer x you#hazbin lucifer#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer magne#alastor#cursed cat alastor#hazbin au#evil Alastor#lucifer angst#lucifer and alastor#hazbin hotel angel!reader#angel!reader#angelic#fallen angel#forbidden love#angst
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Hey, I've recently discovered your blog and I've been binge reading almost all of your writing lol. I love them and I honestly admire your dedication and love for MysMe, thank you so much for all your writing! Though I hope you aren't pushing yourself or anything 😭💗
I'm wondering if you have any HCs of Jumin and V during their childhood/teenagehood?
Jumin and Jihyun recount many events throughout their childhoods now and again, and sometimes I find myself laughing because there's things you don't expect them to say. Like, when they were both in the church choir and had a singing contest between one another! They're poking fun at each other because of it, and it reminds me that they're childhood friends without a doubt and even though there's a lot we're unable to see, they've always been there for each other to see this or that.
Sometimes, I like to think about Jihyun and Jumin doing homework together! It wasn't easy to do it when they were in elementary school because their families likely had them with tutors and in cram classes most, if not all of the time, on school days. But, as teenagers, I like to think Jihyun is glaring at his art history homework while shoveling his tiramisu down, and Jumin sipping tea, casually tearing through much of his calculus homework.
You'd think they would talk while they work, but that's not always the case. They enjoy each other's company, and if you actually hear those two talking, it's because Jihyun couldn't handle the way the way all of his books phrased the wrong information about something, and that presses Jumin to discuss why he thinks the information is wrong and why incorrect information would be published.
Those two could be talking for hours while continuing their work, but if you get them talking about something, they're never going to shut up. Which, is good, I don't want either of them to feel like they aren't allowed to talk at length when they feel comfortable with someone else.
But, that does lend itself to their life later on, when you hear about how casually they speak to each other when they have an evening purposefully set aside for drinks. Rika used to tell them to go to bed because they would spend hours discussing the universe and then not only would they wake up with a hangover, they wouldn't get to bed until sunrise.
The good thing about their friendship is that they find a sense of kinship in each other. Those two have the tendency to hold back unless they're with each other or their respected MC. I don't know why they feel like they have to hold back when it comes to their passion and enjoying the fine art of having communication be of language... but it's nice to see open up. Jumin and Jihyun are the type of people I would love to talk to for hours because so much of their friendship is built on the fact that they've always been able to talk to each other about anything.
That's why it hurts so much when Jihyun stops confiding in Jumin, after all.
Here's a light-hearted theory before I tell you the most painful thing I can imagine, Jihyun would drive Jumin around in his little toy car after the accident because Jumin was never allowed to drive his car again after he snuck onto the Kim property and smacked his car into the wall. That’s okay, though, Jihyun loves the wind in his hair and Jumin prefers to be a navigator.
After the house fire, Jumin is the only one who visits Jihyun regularly. Mr. Kim doesn't bother to visit his son that often, sure, he's there if he HAS to be, but outside of that, he doesn't visit. Jihyun is in pain, he's experiencing the agony of loss after his mother sacrificed her life for his. He wishes he listened to Jumin earlier, he wishes he tried to a lot harder to listen to his Mother and do the right thing, and he wishes... the darkest thought of all, that his mother was still alive instead.
He's hurting, and that hurt silenced the once pretentious teenager who was ready to fight his professors about the meaning of modern art.
He becomes a shell of himself. He doesn't talk to people, he doesn't want to be around people, and it doesn't seem to matter how much people try to take his mind off of things, nothing makes it better. He is in so much pain all the time and it doesn't seem like the painkillers are going to make it any better.
I have always run with the assumption that his back is covered in burn scars and that's one of the reasons why he refuses to wear any clothes that reveal his body. The burns hurt a lot, and no amount of money can heal him, because it really doesn't matter if you have all the money in the world— you are not immune from death and injury.
That being said, there's only one person who comes to visit him every day, one person who always wants to talk to him even if he's not in the mood, and one person who has always promised to be by his side no matter what's going on. It’s Jumin Han. Jumin reads to him when he visits, he tells him about what he's learned that day, he tells him a lot... anything he could think of to help. Jumin isn't the best at being comforting, he always judges if what he's saying is right, but he can't do nothing when Jihyun needs him.
I sincerely think one of the reasons why V was able to get through the brunt of his Hospital stay has to do with the fact Jumin was there for him. Jumin refused to let his best friend be alone. He was the one who told Jihyun to make things right with his mother, and he knows that no matter how difficult things were in the end, that woman was everything to Jihyun. His Mother was a kind woman, and she loved her son more than anything... enough to give her life for his. That's a sacrifice Jumin understands on some level.
It's the kind of familial love he's always read about in books because he isn't getting love at home.
Not that you should be willing to throw your life on the line at every corner for your loved one, but there is something to be said about the willingness to jump in the line of fire to protect somebody you care about in the heat of the moment. I don't know if the two ever communicated with each other about this at length, in fact, I have a feeling they didn't, but—I do believe Jumin had it in his heart that he needed to be there for Jihyun because that’s what his mother would’ve wanted.
She didn’t want her son to be alone.
He is a family-oriented person, and I know he always tries to see the best in someone's family, including his, even if it's not easy. He is the one who tries to reach out to Mr. Kim... even as they're adults. Jumin can't help but want better for V's family. It's just like how he wants his family to be better as well.
But, I know that no amount of Jumin talking to Mr. Kim would make him visit his son more… and Jumin did what he could for his friend back then.
I've always had this mental image of V laying face down in his hospital bed and Jumin sitting by his bedside, reading a book to him as the soft hum of cicadas and heart monitor beats linger between them. It's not perfect, not by any means, but they're together and that counts.
#mod kait#ask#mystic messenger#mysme#mysticmessenger#mm#jihyun kim#kim jihyun#jumin han#han jumin#v jihyun kim#erebatos#character analysis
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from your character analysis ask meme, for alhaitham: Are they prone to jealousy? would he be too logical to be jealous? Would his jealousy be in vain or would it perhaps be a sign that his partner has crossed the line of sorts?
Definition of jealousy:
I apologize for taking some time with this ask. I’m going to answer this in a more analytical format because I think this situation calls for it. I want to say that no, under normal circumstances, Alhaitham is not the kind of person to get jealous. In my experience, there are usually three triggers for jealousy:
1. Reader interacting normally with friends and hobbies and partner gets (unreasonably) jealous
2. Reader getting too involved with spending time with friends/hobbies not realizing they’re neglecting partner which gets them (reasonably) jealous
3. Reader specifically does things that will incite jealousy within partner by purposefully doing things like ignoring partner or flirting with others
Alhaitham would not get jealous under the first instance. Being a very independent person, he would understand and respect his partner’s need for it as well. The second instance would be the closest he’d feel to your definition of jealousy. While he’d be able to withstand it for a while, eventually he’d probably feel neglected and would pull you away to capture your sole attention.
As for the third scenario, while he would get upset and would get jealous, I don’t believe this would happen in a normal relationship. Personally, I would never flirt with someone that isn’t my partner just for fun, even if I’m close to them. I think that’s a very hurtful thing to do to someone that has feelings for you.
So long story short, no, I don’t think Alhaitham is prone to jealousy. Not that he’s “too logical” to be jealous. He just understands and respects people’s need for independence. That being said, he probably can end up feeling neglected if left alone too long.
#genshin impact#genshin x reader#alhaitham#alhaitham x reader#anon#character analysis ask meme#now as i always do i’m going to answer the part you’re looking for in the tags#the reason why alhaitham wouldnt be a jealous person is that hes both reasonable and he doesnt play games#when you enter into a relationship with alhaitham he will make time for you and seek you out#he's self-regulating in that way that he'll make sure to get his fill of you regularly#even if you are busy he'll find some way to slot yourself in your schedule#and like... the thing with him is that he really doesnt need much#itd take you turning him down consistently for other things for him to get jealous and feel neglected#this is when he gets immature because if you try to spend time with him after you can expect some passive aggressive sass#'hmm... you seemed to be having a lot more fun with them instead'#you'd have to make it up to him#add onto that someone flirting with you? he'd swoop in there to stake his claim#that being said i highly doubt this would happen often?#you'd have to be REALLY DENSE to neglect him up to this point#when he is feeling neglected expect him to be more physically touchy#he'd just want you near#haha#sorry this isnt much#i'm the wrong person to go to for jealousy asks#i'm not a person that finds jealousy attractive#unreasonable jealousy i find restrictive and childish#reasonable jealousy i find as a sign i am not doing my job as a significant other#my job as someone's partner is to make them feel loved and needed no matter what#so if theyre not feeling that that means i'm doing something wrong and i need to fix it
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I know it's wrong and bad to say this, but sometimes I really hate when my friends have other friends. (specifically when I can't also be friends with those friends) because every time I want someone to hang out with or talk to, the only couple friends I have are always busy with their other friends. when I want to plan something with them, they will always choose the other friends over me. they will cancel plans *with* me as soon as other friends ask, but won't cancel plans *for* me when i ask. they will use up their social spoons on other friends and leave none for me. always putting things with me off or simply not responding at all.
i'm always told by random people when I say I want mkre friends "it's better to have a couple great friends than many aquantances" or something like that. but honestly it sucks because you can't rely on 1-2 people to always be there for you every day or every week when you want or need someone. if you keep asking, you're seen as annoying and clingy and they will ignore you eventually (or worse)
it's annoying that they get to fill their social needs at all times, but I never get to. because i'm never the one that gets to go first in the social queue. and when it gets to my turn, it refreshes and i'm pushed to the back again.
the only solution I can ever think of is being friends with my friends' friends too....but for some reason!!!!!! that never works out!!!! (if my friends will even share their friends with me to begin with)
#and dont even get me started on when i share my friends with each other and they choose each other over me and kick me out lmao#WHY ARE FRIENDS SO HARD#why am i just a little creature that requires certain amounts/types of social interaction that never gets met#and no one wants to do anything about it. and im forced to sit here feeling bad about it because i cant fix it either fbbdbdfghhdhjrhfdj#this whole friend and human interaction and bonding and companionship bullshit is going to be lifelong issue and im not here for it#NO ADVICE IM GIVEN WORKS. IM TIRED OF ONE SIDED BULLSHIT WHERE ONLY I TRY. HUMANS ARE ANNOYING#im like a non human creature that wears human skin and everyone except me knows and they dont want me and i domt know why#i also dont have the energy to do the whole new friends song and dance where you small talk to get to know each other#and share your life stories. i rather just hang out and become friends through enjoyment of mutual enjoyed activity????#or something like that idk#i tried so hard to be friendly to friends' friend last weekend when we all hung out so i can be adopted into their friend group but#they didnt even tell me it was nice meeting me and hanging out and didnt even say bye to me. only to my friends#and i was too sad about that to say it to them instead as they walked away. theyre way more social and good at words#and i was overwhelmed and struggling to speak so i was waiting for the queue to say those things or something#i expected it like an idiot loser becuase i thought i did a good job being a cute gremlin that fits into the group that seems to have#other goofy gremlins like me. i thought maybe they can be “my people” or something. but then they turned around and left#after telling my friends bye. and didnt acknowledge me. and i juat kept smiling and turned around and walked away too#PRETENDING IT WAS FINE. BUT IT FELT BAD. BECAUSE I FAILED TO MAKE A FRIEND WHEN I THOUGHT I DID GOOD WITH THEM FOR ONCE#so “being confident/believing in yourself” like im told to do DIDNT WORK AND IT FELT WORSE THAN DOUBTING MYSELF. YOU LIARS. ugh fhdhdhfhjssk#WHAT DO. WHY LEE BAD AT THIS. WHY IT FEEL BAD. WHY NOT JUST ACCEPT BEING ALONE 99% OF TIME AND GIVE UP. WOULD BE EASIER#lee rants#autism things#i know its rude to invite yourself into a friend group but what if i try anyway 🤪✌️
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Question of the day: Do you actually work to overcome bigotry, or do you just treat it like the cooties?
#meow.#That is do you actually try unlearning your biases and encourage positive change in others?#or do you scream and run at any mention of it in an attempt to other yourself from it without actually understanding the problem?#Im sorry im so pissed today#Fucking THINK#Are you being productive or performitive?#Learn to say 'Hey that really sucked and here's why.'#instead of 'EVERYONE WHO ASSOCIATES WITH THIS PERSON IS BAD BTW. STOP INTERACTING WITH THEM FOREVER OR YOU'RE BAD.'#'DONT LET THIS PERSON WHOSE ACTIONS CLEARLY SHOW THEY LEARNED AND CHANGED THEIR OPINION FORGET THAT THEYRE ACTUALLY AWFUL'#A little benefit of the doubt can go a long way
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the way i was devastated after vol2 aired lol, and i couldn't sleep for hours bc the vol was so shitty. but now, if s5 turns out to be shit af, i would just laugh. gotta respect the character development here bc i dont give a fuck anymore.
i walked around with a stomachache for a good 48 hours like it was really bad for me...if s5 turns out to be shit af i will walk around with a stomachache for 96 hours🙏
#ask#this said less than 96 for 21 seconds i was like that doesn't seem right#no but like#i get why some twt bylers who are wil stans first act like will getting a happy ending at all/will getting a boyfriend/will's romance arc#being good is all that matters and like that#can be done without byler being endgame because that shit fucking hurt like 48 hours isn't that long but it was SO BAD#obviously i'm team might as well have fun for two (lol) years instead of being like omg what if it doesn't happen. but it's also because i#literally haven't doubted byler since like...july 10th maybe#and when you're a twt byler whose faith in byler depends on like whether or not they like will enough to not do this to him and to give him#a nice boyfriend or whatever and you barely consider mike's side of things i see why you'd try to convince yourself that another outcome#CAN be great. when like..it cant be great they already had will fix mlvn's relationship were past will getting a random bf and mlvn endgame#and yk it's one thing to move on with your life and not be a hardcore byler anymore or to be like i don't like it that much anymore but#some of them really started being like you're sooo dumb for thinking that byler ever stood a chance😂😂😂😂 (ithoughtthattoofiveweeksago)#they're gonna give will a nice boyfriend and it's gonna be great😂😂😂👍 yeah keep telling yourself that...#but yeah i kind of get it because i wouldn't want to have to go through volume 2 all over again either lmao#but also i don't because well#they're wrong#and i'm a byler who's a will stan who also happens to use twitter frequently#as for the rest of the show well if it's bad i'll be disappointed#but my stomach probably won't hurt because of how sad it's making me#or maybe it will it's not unheard of
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i truly think that if ginzou learned how to do magic it would do sooo much good for him
#drop#i know he did some in that one episode (unless my brain is making that up)#but he is clearly so stuck in the past#i don't doubt he genuinely enjoys chasing after kid but there is very much a lot of denial underneath that in regards to the previous kid#being gone#him and kaito are both a lot like that. they love what they do but they haven't really confronted their issues#but ginzou learning magic (especially if it's with kaito & aoko) would give him an outlet + a way to really. Process that grief#as well as help him understand not only kaito but toichi as well#plus it gives him something to do with kaito & aoko and that man has got to bond with them more please sir you are Neglecting your kid#i just love the whole idea of magic kaito and using magic as a way to not only remember people but also to find something for yourself#and i think he could start to appreciate heists in a new way also ... and that is so important after confronting the fact that the person he#knew is gone#idk. i just love seeing loss portrayed in a hopeful way. maybe it won't get better but life will keep moving on regardless#so carry those people in your pocket and keep practicing until you can pull out a rose instead
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Are you actually a bad person or is your brain lying to you (your brain is lying to you)
#what is the evilest thing you have done?#have you killed a dog with your bare hands? i doubt you did#have you ever killed someone? not accidentally or to defend yourself but actually plannd#planned it out and did it?*#have you ever tortured someone?#these are the evil things i can think of like rn at 6 am at the top of my head#or do you instead help someone pick up the things they just dropped in the street?#or do you let someone pass in front of you at the grocery store bc they have 2 items and you have a full cart#or do you see someone on here be sad and you send an anon message to cheer them up a bit?#even if you don't do these things you're not evil you're neutral at best#and that's great too!#the world is full of horrible people being neutral or good is awesome#finding kindness and love in small places is what keeps us going#so please keep going ❤️ i am here for you and i love you#tw death#in the tags
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i think its probably a good and healthy use of your time to look through a trans persons blog to try to find out of they’re secretly a terf
#what could possibly go wrong?#/sarcasm#not saying this doesnt happen but i kinda get the itching feeling that this is one of those community destroying things my friends :))))))!#me when i decide trans ppl i dont like aremy entire enemy 100% always#yall really think terfs are able to swallow their pride long enough for the long con of pretending to be trans?#that thing they hate more than anything and see as purely disgusting and the source of degeneracy in our society?#ok#kinda doubt thats a frequent occurance enough for you to become a detective trying to sleuth out terfs in the trans community#hey-hey bud- maybe-- just maybe-- if you see a trans person psewing terfy sounding shit. maybe just address that#maybe just tell them they're posting terfy shit instead of. idk. calling their identity into question#as if you could ever know who is actually who they say they are online. get over yourself lmao.#literally doing the thing.#im out here calling trans ppl out all the time for the terfy shit they post w/o doubting their transness. its not hard.#i promise you do not know strangers online more than they know themselves and that 'sinking feeling' you get means jack shit tbqh.#expect the unexpected and dont assume shit and you'll end up much better off in these situations#lest it becomes obvious you were being transphobic and that person is 100% verifibly trans.
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