#still working out how I want them to look but whatever it’s fine it’s from the heart (??)

[crguang]

wasted with longing

You and Kafka have a simple, superficial relationship that benefits you both. You should have known that nothing is ever simple when she’s involved.

friends with benefits, smut, afab!reader, gp!kafka, vaginal penetration, blowjob, dom!kafka, 4.5k words

A/N: fuckboy kafka is real and we should all be running… towards her🤣 this will be a series! i’ll fine tune it when i wake up but this is for my very excited anons and mutuals <3

this is the collective playlist, i’m still adding songs as i go: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4fNHJsbeJLC49Fa8ACVOwW?si=pgaCSUzVTgmXZ8OuQJWLKA&pi=u-9uwba0QiQlWH

You push open the door to your apartment with a tired sigh and step inside. Freeing your feet from the new boots you bought days before feels heavenly, you’re still breaking them in and the process is almost torturous, often leaving you sore by the evening. You put on the slippers you discarded that morning as you shrug off your jacket, placing it back into the tiny closet near the front door. The lights are off but you don’t bother turning them on, instead, you make a beeline for your bedroom and flick that switch on. It’s late, around 11 PM, and you’re itching for a shower before collapsing into bed after spending the afternoon on your feet. You open the window a crack to let the breeze in, seeing as the summer nights tend to leave you sweating. You discard some of your clothing on the way to the bathroom, holding onto them to throw them in the laundry basket next to the sink. Standing in your underwear, you turn on the shower and adjust its settings to room temperature before removing your clothes. You’re grateful for the peaceful moment when you step into the shower, simply letting the water hit your face and soak your body.

Today was particularly challenging; your boss was a jerk your whole shift, more demanding than usual, and you’d promised some friends that you would go out with them after work even though you just wanted to be home by then. Forcing yourself to socialize is mentally taxing and often leaves you with a headache at the end of the night, too. Under the refreshing water, you feel the knots of your muscles loosen slowly as if smoothed out by warm, gentle hands. Your head tilts towards the shower head. For a few minutes, you wash away the weight of the day, focusing on the pitter-patter in your ears deafening you to all but your thoughts. An impulsive one passes by, meant to be fleeting but it solidifies in your head until you can’t help but entertain the idea.

You wonder what Kafka is doing, if she’d come running if you called the way she often does once the sun sets. She’s been busy lately, you think; you haven’t heard from her in around two weeks and you’ve been too preoccupied with work to bother checking on her. You don’t know what she does for a living, only that your palms brush against new cuts across her skin every once in a while. The acknowledgment of their presence goes unsaid like many other things, locked in a messy closet to which you both hold the key yet refuse to organize. Still, she’s skilled in the ways of your body and works you out like no one else can, so you ignore a lot about her to prioritize how relaxed you feel after a couple of hours with her. Some parts of you, your heart and fingertips, twitch to understand her absences and inconsistencies. You try not to dwell on that confusing desire for too long lest you come to a conclusion you don’t like. Kafka’s enigmatic, she’s mysterious and rehearsed as to always keep the upper hand in whatever war she’s implicated in like the world is an open minefield and she can’t afford a single misstep. Every semblance of genuine conversation about her turns into a game she has to win and you’re getting tired of playing along. However… you have to admit that you could use the distraction tonight.

The thought doesn’t leave you as you finish washing yourself and step out of the shower with a clean towel around your frame. You look for your phone once in the bedroom, picking it up from where it was discarded on your dresser, then sit at the edge of your bed. It takes a bit of scrolling through your recent conversations to find Kafka’s contact. You refrain yourself from rolling your eyes at the last texts you’ve exchanged. She can’t be relied on for your impromptu needs and you wish the opposite was true as well, but you’ve learned to make yourself available whenever she seeks you out. It’s pathetic, you tell yourself, even as your thumbs hover over the screen’s keyboard. You recline on the mattress with a sigh and hold your phone above you, wondering if you should do this. It’s late, and though that’s usually when you see each other, Kafka has the habit of not replying until hours later. It’s irritating, especially when you scroll up to her last messages and notice how quickly you always answer them. You toss your phone on the bed and cover your face with your hands. You swallow a scream.

“Embarrassing, embarrassing,” you mutter to yourself, “no dignity at all.”

As you question your life choices and consider blocking Kafka’s number to make yourself feel more in control than you are, your phone buzzes with a notification. You turn on your stomach to pick it up, tapping open the screen.

You stare at the most recent text for almost a full minute before closing the device and sitting up straight. The coincidence of her messaging you while you’re debating whether you should text her first leaves you reeling for a moment. You hesitate, fiddling with the phone in your hands. You want to leave her waiting like she often does to you, but… Excitement creeps up your spine at the thought of seeing her. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Why not take what you need from her and send her on her way? This is what she’s good for, it’s how she regards you as well, so you give in to your impulses and craft the perfect text. Kafka’s reply comes almost instantly.

You can’t deny the flutter in your gut but you sure as hell can ignore it.

You make sure to be ready before Kafka comes knocking at your door. You lather yourself with your favourite lotion before pulling a tank top over your head and putting on pyjama shorts. You clean up around your apartment even if she never lingers long enough to get a good look at it, picking up dirty laundry and clearing the dishes. You don’t see the minutes tick by as you do your best to seem presentable. You check your teeth in the bathroom mirror, decide to brush them because you don’t have any mint, then tap your cheeks a couple of times, tilting your chin this way and that. You’re looking at your nails, wondering if you should clip them since they’re getting a bit long, when the doorbell rings.

You take measured steps towards the front door so as not to look too eager and shake your head at your antics. You turn the handle, revealing Kafka’s nonchalant expression on the other side of the door. She smiles at the sight of you, clad in her usual tight clothes and custom-made coat, and you have to suppress one from betraying your thoughts as you take her in. She does the same to you, gaze appreciatively raking over your figure before she even greets you. She still has makeup on, hiding the fatigue you know rests under her eyes, and she’s holding on to her pair of gloves instead of wearing them. You think she probably wrapped up whatever it is that she does and came to your apartment right afterwards.

You open the door wider and step to the side so she can come in. “You look tired.”

Kafka walks in and closes the door behind her with a foot. Her smile widens a touch, a self-assured edge to it. Her head tilts— you watch the loose strands of hair follow the movement— and her eyes drop to your chest for a deliberate second then lift to meet yours. “You look beautiful as ever.”

You don’t hide the annoyed roll of your eyes. You turn your back on her to lead her further into the apartment. She follows, slipping off her coat from her shoulders and discarding it on a sofa in the living room.

“You got rid of the painting?”

You look at where she stopped in front of the couch. She points to the far wall with her chin as she lays her gloves on top of her coat. You stand, dumbfounded. You used to have an abstract painting hung on that wall but stored it to install a TV instead. You’re mostly surprised she noticed; her lips are usually on yours instants after she’s stepped through the door.

“It’s here somewhere,” you gesture vaguely to the room.

“Mm… This coffee table’s different, too.”

“You broke the glass of the other one the last time you were here.”

Something in the way she glances at you, a cocky glint in her eyes, tells you she remembers.

“Right. What was it you said that night— ‘Don’t you dare stop?’”

You know Kafka revels in the flash of irritation that creases the bridge of your nose.

“I don’t remember that.”

“No?”

She makes her way to you, fingertips trailing on the back of the couch and amusement shining through her contacts, dusty pink swallowing the lilac at their edges, reminding you of carefully plucked calla lilies. Her slender fingers cup your jaw to tilt your chin, the nail of her index sliding across your skin, and you meet her stare with practiced ease. You hate how easily the anticipation of her touch heats the embers in your belly and you can’t stand knowing that she’s aware of her effect on you. Kafka brings you closer until all you care to see is the lustful, rosy shades of her irises. Her gaze lowers to the curves of your mouth.

“Need a reminder?” Her murmur is felt on your lips like the warm, inviting breeze wafting through the open windows.

You hook a finger under the waistband of her shorts and tug her forward. “Guess so.”

Her low chuckle is cut off by the kiss you plant on her lips. Kafka indulges your control over her, lets you back her up against the wall and pull her close with a hand around her neck. Her arm snakes around your waist, your body pressed to hers. She tastes sweet, like a sugary drink or a juicy fruit, and your tongue slips into her mouth to taste her fully. She welcomes it readily and allows it to swirl around hers before you feel her fingers curl around your throat. The pace shifts, hungry and hurried, as she effortlessly takes over the kiss, momentarily taking your breath away. You’re forced to follow her lead and exhale through your nose when she doesn’t release you. The hand on the back of her neck travels down her collarbone, pulling on the leather strap of her outfit so it slaps against her once you let go, and the hum that sounds from her throat softens your bones until you’re putty in her hands. Her shirt crumples in your grip while your fingertips tease the buttons of her shorts. Your world is reduced to the soft caress of her tongue in your mouth and the growing bulge beneath your palm.

Her hold on your neck relaxes slightly and you pull away enough to regulate your breathing. You stroke her over her clothes, drawing a sharp intake of breath from her. A pleased smile makes its way onto your face and your eyes blink open to stare at her swollen, peach lips.

“Someone’s happy to see me.”

Kafka traces the hollow of your throat with a rounded nail, smiling amusedly at your teasing tone. “Mmm.”

“Two weeks and a little kiss gets you worked up?”

“Were you counting?”

“Please. You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” You unclasp the buttons of her shorts and pull them down her waist to reveal the band of her pantyhose, toying with it and sighing in faux exasperation. “I suppose I could help.”

“Yeah?”

Kafka stares at you, anticipation in the way her lips unconsciously part, and you retain her lustful gaze as you withdraw from her body to put your hair up using the hair tie on your wrist. You raise a playful eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth, and her eyes narrow a touch at your cockiness. She doesn’t say a word, though, simply watches you lower yourself to your knees with that smile that says she’ll wipe that expression off your face soon enough. You start with her thigh-high boot, zipping it down to get it out of the way, then grip the edges of both her pantyhose and shorts to slide them off the rest of the way at once. Her layers annoy you on nights when your need is greater than your patience, but you enjoy teasing her like this; testing the elasticity of her boxers’ waistband, running the pads of your fingers over the thin fabric and along the thick of her bulge, pressing leisure, open-mouthed kisses on the soft flesh of her inner thighs. Kafka is a patient woman, her hand tangles in your hair but doesn’t pull. Her heavy stare makes you feel powerful despite being the one on your knees, she either doesn’t bother to hide her desire or she can’t— regardless, you’re her only way towards sweet release and she has no choice but to grant your petty wishes.

Your lips trace the outline of her length over her underwear. One hand cups her between her legs while the other kneads her plush thigh. You delight in the little hums Kafka doesn’t care to contain as you pepper kisses on her clothed cock, a thumb gently massaging her balls until you feel her twitch under your lips. Still, she doesn’t tell you to hurry along or pressure you in any way. Knowing that her cool demeanor is an act fuels the satisfaction in your gut. You pull at her boxers and free her hard cock, refraining from biting your lip at the sight of its prominent vein. You follow its pattern with your mouth and use a hand to curl around her base, eyes fluttering shut. You’ve done this so often, licked long stripes up to her tip and stroked her sensitive skin with teasing touches, that the feel of her against you is engraved in your gray matter. Your tongue swirls around her leaking tip to collect her pre-cum before taking her into your mouth. Kafka is so big you have to use your fingers to stroke what can’t fit past your lips. The weight of her cock on your tongue makes you so incredibly wet, you feel arousal trickling down your inner thigh. Her hips buck forward and her hand caresses your hair in a manner so fond you’d mistake her lust for care if you didn’t know any better. You work her up with quiet, muffled moans around her dick and she guides you down her length with one hand, unable to tear her eyes from your pretty face as you suck her off. You take as much of her as you can, feel the head brushing the back of your throat every few thrusts of her hips, and revel in the short, throaty moans spilling from Kafka’s lips.

“Mmhh… How pretty you look with your mouth full,” she manages to tease you in between low gasps, smugness dripping from her words. You give her sensitive tip a particularly harsh suck and bask in the uncontrolled jerk of her hips.

You look up at the crease between her brows and the rapid rise of her chest, her audible pants intoxicating you. With her head tilted to gaze down at you, strands of magenta hang in the air like threads of silk. You squeeze her base once to draw a longer moan from her. The taste of her bypasses your every thought, and you can only focus on her throbbing, wet cock filling your mouth. You stroke her with the same hungry pace, occasionally squeezing your thighs together to appease the heat between your legs. She’s so hard, so needy, you can’t help the indignant whine that escapes you when her fingers grip your hair and pull you away from her dick. A thin string of saliva connects her head to your tongue and breaks with the distance, falling onto your chin.

“Don’t pout, you’ll get your fill,” Kafka smiles despite her heavy breathing, urging you to stand with her hold on your head, “I’ll make sure of it.”

A tinge of irritation surges in your bloodstream at the cocky edge of her tone and the way your pussy aches for her touch. Her nose brushes yours once you’re on your feet, warm breath fanning over your lips. You hate that you want her, that your body responds to her by melting into hers as she steals the air in your lungs with a single heady kiss. You hate the way your thighs part almost immediately to allow her wandering hand better access to your cunt. You hate the amused chuckle that leaves her when she realizes you’re not wearing any underwear and rubs between your slit with a finger. And yet, you only get wetter under her ministrations, brows twisting with the pleasure she’s giving you. Her digit withdraws from your slick pussy, glimmering with your arousal, and Kafka stares at you with lidded eyes as she brings it to her lips to suck it clean. The wet sound of her mouth sends a jolt straight to your core. You need her to fuck you so badly, you can barely think before grasping the leather strap under her collarbones to pull her forward.

Your lips meet in a messy, heated kiss, her salty taste on your tongue and your slick on hers. You stumble down the hallway, losing pieces of clothing along the way, until you reach the bedroom and Kafka firmly pushes you down onto the bed with a hand on your bare chest. Her mouth is locked with yours and you feel her touch on your hips, across your waist, over your ribcage where your heart drums for her. Her thumb applies pressure on your erect nipple, drawing a needy sigh from you. You sneak around her chest to unclasp her bra and she assists you in sliding it off her arms to discard it on the floor. Her cock presses against your thigh while she teases your nipple between two fingers. You know you’re ruining the sheets beneath you but you can’t bring yourself to care; you get more desperate with every minute she’s not buried inside you, unable to contain the quiet whimpers that escape you.

“Kafka…” you breathe out in a whine, aware of how much it turns her on to hear her name out your lips. Her cock throbs on your thigh at the sound.

She plants kisses down your jaw and pinches your nipple a couple of times, the feeling delicious yet not enough. Her hum rumbles through her chest, “Mmm… Pleading already?”

Aeons, she’s infuriating. You wrap a leg around her waist and her length rests on your slit, but you bite the flesh of your cheek to keep in a breathy moan, not wanting to inflate her ego more than it already is. Kafka reaches down to rub her tip between your lower lips, almost groaning as your slick mixes with the saliva from your tongue. Your lungs stutter and you suck in a breath, nails digging into the expanse of her back. Her head grazes your aching clit, you arch further into her to repeat the action. It feels so good you forget all about who you’re dealing with until she speaks up again.

Kafka’s licks a broad stripe up your neck, then her mouth brushes the skin of your jaw on its way to your earlobe, pressing a kiss just below.

“You’re dripping…” Though her voice is close to your eardrums, you barely register the words she utters, lost in the pleasure of your clit sliding against the thick of her cock. “How much do you want this, mm?”

There’s a lick on the cartilage of your ear before she pulls away to look at you through the dull pink of her irises, eyelids heavy. The movement of her dick on your pussy comes to halt and it takes you losing that relieving friction to understand that she expects an answer.

“W-What?”

“Did you miss me this much?”

Your heel digs into her lower back to pull her closer, but her lips simply stretch into a knowing, teasing smile. She presses her tip against your twitching clit once, delighting in the flutter of her eyelashes and the beginnings of a needy moan that you refuse to let her hear.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you reply, but even you have to admit that your sentence lacks conviction or venom.

“Mm…” Kafka guides the tip of her cock to your gushing entrance and your next inhale gets caught in your throat. “Is it flattery if it’s true?”

“You w— Hah—!”

She pushes the head inside you, feeling you clench instinctively at the intrusion, and lets out a sigh of pleasure as your warm, tight cunt welcomes her cock. She watches a quiver go through your bottom lip and briefly bites her own. One hand digs into the plush of your love handle, the other sinks into the bedsheets next to your head. She slides another inch into you and your fingers tangle in her locks, tugging at the sensation of her length inside you, stretching you so well a breathless gasp spills from your mouth. Her smile is smug, pleased at your silence, and you swallow as you muster the strength to speak. Kafka leans closer, the tip of her nose against your cheek and her breath warming your skin. Slowly, she bottoms out completely and gives you a moment to adjust to the fullness. Something in the way her pants falter occasionally tells you that she needs that pause too. Her lips are on your jaw in a kiss way too soft, too gentle to be from her; her who means nothing to you aside from the pleasure she provides you.

“I missed you.”

You feel a buzzing sensation in your lower belly that has nothing to do with her cock nestled in your cunt. The words are murmured like a confession but you know they aren’t one, Kafka means to provoke you so that she can put you in your place, a game you’ve played since the day you met. You can’t explain why it’s as if your heartstrings are plucked and manipulated like those of an instrument, its melody disorganized and disharmonious. You don’t understand the sudden irritation that mixes with your arousal, sending a shiver down your spine.

You tug at her hair and her head follows the movement backwards, lips parting.

“I hate you,” you manage to utter through gritted teeth, and you’re frustrated to find that there’s no truth in what you’ve said.

Kafka’s growing grin turns mocking. “Aww. But you’re sucking me in…”

To prove her point, she withdraws from you just to thrust back in, her tip hitting that sensitive spot inside you. Her length rubs your walls with every thrust of her hips, rendering you speechless aside from the quiet whimpers that fall from your tongue, and your anger fades away, replaced by the desperate need to come. Your fingers messily swipe at your clit and your nails paint crescent moons on her back from how tightly you’re holding on to her body. Despite her own need, Kafka is determined to pull more lovely sounds from you. Her pace is tantalizingly slow but harsh in the way you prefer as she fills you to the brim. You feel her all around you, her lips on your jaw, the pads of her fingers sinking into your flesh, her cock buried deep inside your fluttering cunt. Her low moans and short groans hit your ears in sinful sounds that only make you wetter. Her breasts are flushed to yours, following the rocking of her hips.

“Fuck, fuck—“ you babble breathily, lost in the pleasure, “more…”

You don’t register Kafka manhandling you with an arm around your waist so that you’re straddling her lap instead, only that the change in position allows her to drive deeper into you. You moan brokenly as she grabs your hips and guides you down onto her cock in one go. Your thighs tremble, aching, and your orgasm is imminent. Kafka groans into your shoulder, bouncing you on her dick, the taut coil in her belly begging to snap. Your slick trickles down her length and your wet pussy swallows her cock, you clench around her like you dread she’ll pull out before you can come. She uses a palm to apply pressure on your lower stomach, feeling the faint outline of her bulge inside you, and the sensation pushes you over the edge. You cream on her cock with a cry. Your head tilts back and Kafka leans away from your shoulder to gaze at your cum drenching her girth. She knows how sensitive you get after an orgasm, can feel you twitch against her with the aftershocks, but she can’t help jerking her hips upwards to fuck your cum back into your pussy. She wants to see her own cum merge with yours until you’re so full of her that you’re gushing.

“Kafka—!” You gasp out, fingers gripping her loose ponytail, “W-Wait…”

She shushes you with an insistent kiss. She’s close, guiding your hips up and down her throbbing cock. With a particularly harsh thrust, that familiar coil in her stomach finally breaks and her cum spills into you in hot, intense spurts against your inner walls. It’s too much for you to handle even as her thrusts stutter, yet a second orgasm builds inside you, quick and desperate; your body moves on its own accord, further stimulating you and drawing a long, drawn out moan out of you. Kafka’s lips are parted and you miss the sheen in her eyes as she stares up at you unashamedly riding her until you come around her dick a second time.

You’re both coming down from your high some time later, your eyes are shut and the pace of your rising chest slows down enough for you to take deep breaths. Kafka is a comforting presence beside you on the bed, and like you do with many things, you ignore the warmth that is born from your chest and spreads across your torso. A welcomed kind of exhaustion creeps up on you, almost pulling you into a dream, but you hear Kafka move next to you so you turn your head to look at her. She’s fixing her hair, putting back locks of magenta into her ponytail. She feels your gaze on her and meets your eyes with a small smile. There’s that twitch of your heart and fingertips again at the sight of the soft glow of her sweaty skin under your bedroom lights.

“You look exhausted,” her tone lacks its usual teasing edge but you’re too tired to notice, “I’ll use the shower and lock behind me with the spare key. You should sleep. I’ll message you tomorrow.”

You don’t say anything to that. You stare at the ceiling as the shower is turned on in the background.

Kafka doesn’t text the next day.

#honkai star rail #hsr kafka #hsr #hsr x reader #kafka x reader #kafka x you #hsr x you #hsr smut #kafka smut #dom!kafka

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

9 Days of Lancaster: First Time

It was after the fourth day of tracking that it finally rained. We’d known it was going to happen, too. After the first crack of thunder, Ruby let out a low whine. 

“No,” she just pleaded. It would still be hours before the rain came and washed most of our tracks away.

She was tired and wet and cold. And I really wanted to get her into the tent and into her sleeping bag.

I didn’t know what to do or say. We could both see the storm coming, feel the wind pick up and the humidity increase. I could do nothing but start to look for a good place to set up a tent.

Ruby and I had done some light training, but you really didn't push yourself or work out too much when you were trying to catch up to something like this. For my sake it was time to take watch and just to top my night off I had to be especially on guard tonight.

It was unusual for me to stay focused on watch, but I had to. I could feel something. It didn't feel like a person or anyone I knew so it was probably not nothing but the equivalent.

Grimm.

I waited until it got close enough that I was sure I could destroy it without letting my senses drift from where Ruby slept.

I was sitting out waiting for the creature to stop nagging at my range and actually enter. It was just pacing around the edge of my senses and eventually I'd had enough.

I kept my body low and my limbs out, but stealth wasn't my strong suite. It jumped through the bracket at me rather than I at it.

I moved in a burst, sweeping the long blade between us to stop its approach. It pushed me back a step and my ankle caught something.

I tripped and it fell on me. My armor held out its claws but its teeth snapped at my aura. I grunted and threw it off of me.

It was an Ursa. a different bone structure for a different part of the world but that seemed to be all the difference between those here and those in Vale.

It landed but rolled towards me quickly with a snarl but as I stood, I held my ground. I already knew how to deal with these. I swept Crocea Mors downwards over my head and cut its face diagonally and deep enough that I'd opened up large sections of its ribcage.

It fell and began to dissolve. I stepped back warily. I felt nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

I listened and heard no song of Grimm. The animals had gone quiet, too. Fearing a battle between two distant predators might involve them, but it was already over.

Then, distinct in the cold night distant, the zip of the tent.

I sighed.

"Jaune! Jaune, what was that." She was in thick socks that probably didn't feel good in the wet, icy, muck.

She had Crescent Rose ready though. Her biceps and triceps stood out in her shirt. She had nothing on but her simple ‘T’ and some long bottoms in the night.

I stared at her white clothes in the sleet before coming to my senses. “It was just a small Grimm. Everything’s fine.”

She breathed hard. “You're supposed to wake me up.”

You needed sleep and it was nothing I couldn't handle.

I looked her up and down. There was brisk and then there was being in PJs, in negative ten, with a wind chill, and at ninety-five percent humidity.

I walked over and dragged her into the tent. I flicked the flap open, but the inside was frigid. Just a few moments of being open had sapped whatever warmth was inside. “You can't act like this was my fault. You're supposed to wake me.”

I nodded and rubbed her hands in mine. I pulled her wet socks off too. Her feet were just chilled to the absolute bone. I was considering trying to start a fire.

“Say something!”

“Huh what? You're right. I should have woken you up. Come on get some new socks on and get warm.”

“I feel like I need a can opener with you; you’re just so it's like -ugh. Aren't you frustrated?”

“No, I am.” I assured her.

“Well why aren't you showing it?” Ruby wrapped her arms around her knees under her covers. “And your semblance too, you’re not excited at all when it activates when we train.”

“It only activates when I’m losing, doesn’t last long, and doesn’t do anything but make me glow.” I shook my head and laughed a little.

It was fitting though, if I’d had this power at Beacon I would have been just as able to help Pyrrha.

She hit me hard, enough sting. I gasped, my hand going to my chest where her hand hit my side, through some gap in all my armor she’d casually exploited to jab at just one of my ribs past a strap.

“You were thinking you were useless again. Weren’t you, Jaune?”

Fuck.

“I’m sure it does more than make you look good.”

Whiplash.

I waited.

“Well?” She wondered.

“Well to what in all of that?”

“All of it!”

“I was trying to keep up the pace and find it and be on our way to Haven.”

“So, it’s because I need to get to Haven.”

“Well that is your plan.” I laughed and turned to look at her.

“Ugh.” She murmured and looked down.

Huh?

“What is it? Is it something I said?”

She didn't look impressed by that. She crossed her arms confidently and set herself sideways. “Then what's it like? I forced you out here. To come with me to Haven and trek all the way across the world with me. Even though I had no idea how far that was.”

"Ruby, I did know how far it was. And I did know that if you hadn't…"

If she hadn't what, exactly? I was trying to fight but it was hard. It was a little like Weiss had rubbed off on Ruby, in some of her best ways. I'd found that confidence and authority attractive before but when it was directed at me it was hard to fight.

What could I possibly tell her? That I needed her to tell me what to do and give my life direction?

She just told me how stressed she was. I couldn't add to that. I clicked my jaw in thought.

My teeth clacked together audibly.

She looked from my eyes to my jaw. Like I'd just bit her hard. “You shouldn't do that to yourself.”

I laughed. “That's what I mean. What would I do if I didn't have you right now? If you hadn't taken me in, I don't know where I would have gone.”

“You would have found something.”

No. My family. I stole this from them. I can't go back. And Nora and Ren they got in with like a scholarship for orphan hunters-to-be or something. They were homeless again. I think they thought I'd abandon them.

“No. So, when you asked me to come it was just-it was a no-brainer. What would I have done? What alternatives would I have had? And if I hadn't gone with you, would I have found Pyrrha’s armor, even? Would I know for sure what happened? It was like destiny. And this is too.”

“You really think so?” I watched her hands fidget through her hair, somehow plucking at the red tips even out of the corner of her eye.

“Well no, it’s more like I need to make this the timeline where I succeed, but we can. You know?”

She shook her head. “You think if we're smart and hardworking enough, it'll be enough? That's not like you.”

“Ruby, this is just a setback. Even if it takes months. We have no timetable for getting to Haven. No tournament. No obvious target beyond the school and city which should be in a state of high alert.”

Supplies still got traded as far as here so we know the blackout-panic hadn't destroyed the place.

Haven was probably still there, Just waiting for her, even if it didn’t know it.

“But what about your semblance?” She pressed me. “You and me. Are we making progress there?”

“We’ll have time to figure out how to use it.” If it had a use.

“Tss” I let out as I clutched a rib. She jabbed me again.

“You and me,” she went on. “You butt.”

“Us?” I wondered stupidly.

“What are we, Jaune?” She glanced at me. “What am I to you?”

Good question.

I thought about it. It wasn't like I could just say she was my partner because that had connotations to huntsmen. If I just blurted out, she was my new partner it would hurt everyone.

Besides, she had made it clear that Weiss was her best friend. Whatever that meant to her.

"You're my oldest friend for sure." I told her. I knew that much. Who was there before Pyrrha? Family didn't count. "Things are rough for me right now but it wasn't like I didn't think about you before, too.”

“That's not fair,” she whispered. “Pyrrha was…She made it clear she liked you a lot.”

Ouch. But…

“You were so nice and sweet to me when I didn't deserve it. I could always count on you for advice and it was always good. “

“I don't know…” she trailed off. She pinched her lower lip between her index and thumb. She was listening close, her eyes intense on my every word.

“Even if it wasn't what I wanted to hear. So, it sounds dumb to say something like boyfriend, but you can if you want.”

“We're a couple.” Ruby translated listening closely. “You make things so complicated.”

“The thing about that is-“

“Do you love me?”

“Uh, yeah.”

She smiled, flushing, but she managed to roll her eyes and look right at me. For a moment I could hear nothing but the rain against the tent.

"Jaune I need you to better than 'uh yeah.'" she smiled adorably. It took me a second to realize she was teasing me. By the time I did so, my eyes flicked down to her lips and back up to her eyes. It was too late. Her smile roared across her face.

“You really want to kiss me, don't you? You can. You know. Maybe not all the time but you can kiss me.”

I did. I pushed her back against her thin mattress. I could feel her hip bone against my abdomen and the smooth curve of her sides. I put my hands around her back and pulled her in close to me and she let out a tiny sigh.

Her mouth opened in the slightest way and I couldn't help myself. My tongue went forward at the same time I rolled us more forward, pinning her more beneath me.

She groaned into it, smiling into the kiss as I sucked on her tongue, then lip, then pulled away.

Or tried to.

I drew back slightly but she had a tight grip on my shirt with her left hand. I hadn't even noticed. And her other hand became nestled in my hair.

She just… giggled at me, and, without so much as opening her eyes, dragged me down again.

She rolled her hips up into mine and wrapped her legs tightly around my waist. She pulled me into her and I could feel her pulse beat between her legs. I bit down on her bottom lip. And she moaned and through her thin pajama bottoms I felt her against me. I mean I felt her core against my own. She ground herself hard against me in a bold and inexperienced fashion and I let out a moan that she devoured. 

She whined a little up at me when I pulled back but she gave me a pleased sigh when I just took my shirt off. She reached out and ran a palm down my chest to my sides and kept her other hand buried in my hair and pulled me close to her. 

Our teeth clicked together a little as I ran my tongue against her molars. She tried to push against my tongue with hers but I overpowered the wet muscle. She drew back with my tongue in her mouth and sucked on it gently but firmly. I throbbed in my pants at that. I imagined what it would feel like to have her mouth around a different piece of my anatomy and I groaned and grew harder at the thought. I reached a hand down to cup her little breasts through her sleeping tee. She moaned into my mouth as I did. I found her nipple and started to toy with it until it grew firm and erect through her shirt.

I pulled away briefly but it was only to help her pull her pj shirt over her head. She wasn't wearing a bra. Her milky breasts plopped down to my sight with little pink nipples and areola.  I stared at her body in earnest and I felt a pulse from between my legs at the sight of her body. I wanted to be inside her so badly it hurt. I was so lonely and incomplete. 

I pushed her back down and let my mouth stray down her body. I started at her lips then kissed my way over to her left ear and down around her jaw where I sucked softly and she let out a light gasp and bucked her hips up at me helplessly. I savored the power I had over her in that moment and I tasted her aura. Flowery but sweet like cinnamon. She was so tasty as I moved my way down to her chest and sucked on her right nipple. She let out an adorable little squeak and bobbed her hips. I ran one hand down her pants, down her leg and rubbed at the inside of her thigh as I sucked. Then I twisted my hand into her pants and over her panties. My fingers splayed out over the last garment covering her little flower and I stroked easily down her slit where she was soiling the fabric of her panties. 

"Jaune!" She cried out my name in a way that made me feel like a man. 

I slipped a finger beside her panties and into the gash of her body. I rubbed my way up and down and she reached down and grabbed my face and yanked me up to kiss her while I stroked her little rose. It felt so small. My erection rubbed against her side as we kissed deeply and I rubbed her folds. 

"Don't stop," she panted breathlessly. I found a nub at the top of her flower that made her writhe and shout out. I rubbed it again hard and she bit my lip firmly. "R-right there," she breathed out.

I had no intention of slowing down or giving her any sense of quarter. I wanted her writhing and she was. She was rolling her hips into my finger desperately. She wanted so badly to finish and I had the power to give that to her. 

I rolled little circles around her clitoris. I would occasionally flick it and I would toy with her folds to tease her and build her up before she came crashing down. She tried to reciprocate and reach a hand down to my own pants but I was merciless in my attempt to distract her and make her cum. 

"I'm s-so clo-ose. Please Jaune. Oh please let me. Just let me…"

I started really rubbing her clit. I pinched it and rubbed it hard.  I made her break off into stammers and moans. 

"Oh-h I-I-I'm-m… Oh y-yes. Ah-hah-ah-ah." Then her whole body tensed up in what was almost a frightening fashion and she thrust her hips wildly into my finger. Fluid gushed out of her and got the tent wet between her legs. She lay there and just breathed hard for a long minute. She struggled desperately against the successive waves that poured down over her. I had done this to her with a single finger. Me.

She was shaking a little as I sat her up and gave her a drink of water. "I want to do that again to you so badly," I murmured close to her ear and she shuddered. 

I put my hand back between her legs and flipped my finger inside her little tunnel. She moaned and gripped me hard like a Mistrali finger trap. 

"Wait… it's too sensitive for you to-ah- for you to… for you." 

"But you're bucking your hips into my finger. Doesn't that mean you like it?" I wondered. I pressed harder against her right little walls and I ran my finger up to her clit again and gave it a rub. 

"Ah-hah. Please… I can't help it. Please…" I wasn't sure what she was begging me for. More or less. I gave her more and I ran my finger down her body and into her once more. I rubbed against those squeezing walls and made her grasp me tightly like she was scared of drifting away if she didn't latch onto me. She dug her nails into my back but I hardly registered it. "Stop… wait…"

"Why? You like it," I pointed out. I felt so powerful. I had so much control over her whole form like this. 

"I want to touch you," she pleaded. I brought my finger up to her clit and brushed it and she gasped and leaned forward. 

"Then do it. I'm not stopping you." I played with her. 

"I can't like this. You're… it's too much. Please Jaune. Oh please. I'll let you touch me again afterwards but please let me touch you."

"Fine." I drew back and relinquished the quivering power I held over her. She pushed me back and went straight for my pants after I released her. 

She wrestled with my belt for a long time with her hands brushing over me. Eventually she worked me free from my pants and once she had it in her hands she just stared at it in incredulity. It was unusual. She stared at me with my pants down the same way I looked at her without her shirt. She took me in both her hands and gave me a tentative stroke with her tiny hands. I groaned a little in the quiet of the tent with the rain splattering down around us. She crawled until her head was nearly in my lap and gave me a curious lick. My cock twitched and my hips rose up a little. 

She wrapped her little lips around my head and gave a tiny suck. I felt myself quiver with precum straight into her little mouth. She swallowed it immediately. Her throat bobbed as she took it down. Then she slowly wrapped more of her mouth around me and ran the tip of her tongue around my head. My hands went to her hair and I moaned. It was a noise and action she seemed eager for more of because she bobbed her head up and down on my shaft. 

"It tastes odd. But I can grow to like it if you want," she murmured in the dark of the tent. 

"Yes please," I managed.

"Who would have thought sucking your dick would make me so wet," she went on. Then she took me back into her mouth. She made an attempt to swallow the whole thing and pushed herself down on the base but she only got up to a mouthful. So she brought her hand up and wrapped it around the parts she couldn't swallow and when she rose up she took that hand with her and then she would lower herself back down and wrap that tiny hand around the base of me. She used her hand on what she couldn't fit into her mouth as she bobbed her head up and down. She always gave the head of my dick a little suck at the top. A tight squeeze of pleasant pressure. 

She spun her tongue around the whole of me and made my cock twitch into her mouth with yet more precum. I felt my balls tightening and a weight in the pit of my stomach which implied that an inevitability was arriving. I was going to cum in little Ruby Rose's mouth. The sheer audacity and lewdness of it could drive a man to orgasm on its own. But she kept thrusting her body down and away at me as well. Her tongue coiled around me and she applied suction to make it so deliciously tight. Her hand gripped me firmly near the base and was getting wet from her spit. She offered no complaint when I thrust my hips up into her waiting mouth in time with her bobbing head. I couldn:t help myself. 

"Ruby, I'm going to finish if you keep that up."

She attacked me with renewed vigor and let out a quiet satisfied hum in the back of her throat which vibrated me and sent me to the edge. I reached down and grabbed the fistfulls of her hair and gave three mighty thrusts that left her unsure of what to do with her hands and at my mercy. 

I groaned as I deposited my seed in her mouth and she started swallowing and tightening her lips and tongue around me and that only intensified my orgasm. 

I had just defiled her pretty lips. She got up in the tent after swallowing. She let out a satisfied little noise as she did. I couldn't be sure whether she liked the taste or she just liked what came with it. She pulled off her pants and soiled panties. It had been true. She had gotten so unbelievably wet. Her thighs were slicked a little with it. She was drop dead gorgeous in the quiet light of the moon. her breasts were modest but full and perky. And the way her pelvis ran down to her little flower was something you had to see to believe. She had a rocking hourglass figure from all the combat and training. 

She positioned my wavering cock at her apex and straddled me. I didn't dare ask something like 'are you sure?' She had my dick in her hands and was longing herself up. She was sure. 

"Is this your first time?" She asked me. She was really only asking about Pyrrha. 

"I know the basics. But I've never done anything with them."

"A first time for both of us then," she decided that that was enough and she slid my head into her. She let out a quiet squeak between pain and pleasure as she lowered herself. I felt her walls wrap around me and squeeze me tight. Their soft velvety wetness was superior to my hand by miles and even to her mouth. Dare I even think that after the heights of pleasure brought to me by her pale lips and what lies behind.

She let out the full groan and she moaned my name. "It's so big. It hurts like… like something good."

"It hurts?" I asked. 

"Fuck yeah it hurts. But it's a good stretching kind of hurt. Just give me a minute."

I could barely contain myself from moving as her tight walls hiccupped around me. It was all so tight everywhere and it felt like she was pulling me deeper in even as she didn't move. 

She put a hand down on my chest and rocked her hips so I barely moved within her. She seemed to like that motion so she kept it up. She was grinding her wetness hard against my pelvis. I reached down with one hand and thumbed that extra special nub at the top of her slit. She called out and moved her hips a little more. She was almost glaring at me for that. She hadn't expected it. I did it again.

"Hah-ha-ah. Tease me a little, Jaune."

I decided that I would. I flicked my fingers through her folds down to where I was embedded in her. Then I rotated slowly back up to her clitoris and squeezed. She let out a little squeal and she lifted her butt and brought it back down on me. Whenever I touched her clit she would squeeze my dick with her insides in a convulsive fashion. It was delectably on point. 

She rode me with lifts and rocks of her hips and I tasted her body as best as I was able until she let out a call in the night and collapsed on me with her insides pulsing almost violently around me. Lubricant flushed forward from her flower. She laid on my chest and I kissed her softly. Then I started to slowly thrust up into her insides.  They were so soft and they squeezed me but they parted around my rigidity so easily. The texture of them was like nothing I had ever felt and I kissed her deeply and drank in her sweet sugary aura. Red rose petals floated down around us as she lit up crimson. That mixed with my own blue and flecks of gold. I pushed her back until she was upright. She just looked at me dazed and confused. She was still riding out the high of her last orgasm. I wanted to keep her there always. 

I pushed her until she was chest down in the tent bedding and I was behind her. I pushed my way inside and bent over her body. She pushed back back in time with my thrusts into her from behind but it was weak and almost, dare I say it, pathetic. I slipped my body down onto her and compressed her hard into the bedding by laying on her. Then I slipped one hand between her legs and over her thigh and I started to play with her petals and nub again. 

"Fpuh-uh-gsh-oh-'' her moans became completely incoherent. The angle I thrust into her met hard with a spot two inches inside and towards the front that I could already tell that she liked when I hit and rubbed against it. Then I started to fondle her folds. First I would grace along one side then the other then I would meet at her apex and rub her clit tightly. This new angle was good for me too. She was so tight and the angle I was thrusting in would occasionally poke against something hard which I knew was her cervix. It would kiss back at me ever so gently as I really started to give it to her. I abandoned teasing her and strummed her clit like a guitar. 

"Keep going. Don't stop. Ooh-ah. Don't stop, please."

I had no intention of stopping and I bent low to nibble on the back of her ear and suckle on her neck. I ran kisses down her back and her body became confused. She wasn't sure whether to grind down onto my hand or push back against me and so she settled for a mixture of both. 

I felt her walls tighten around me and I knew that it was just a matter of time for us both. I squeezed her clit and she arrived again with loud moans and the whisper of my name. Her body went into spasms and her thighs began to quiver from all the stimulation she had received that night. A few more thrusts and I had finished as well. I launched myself as deep inside of her as I could reach and departed my seed directly into her waiting womb and love canal. 

We both lay breathing hard and sweaty in the tent. 

She rolled over to me with a little smile and kissed me on the lips. She giggled happily along and snuggled her hot naked body against mine. I was exhausted from expending myself twice. Usually alone I could only ever do it once. So this has been a lot for me. It had been a lot for her too. We drifted off to sleep together. Thoughts of clothes abandoned in the hot tent. Tomorrow will come and I may have to deal with some consequences of tonight but they could wait. 

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

I got down off the back of the animal before Ruby.

She was already waiting for me there.

She called its name and it came when called. She didn’t even need to pull her hair back as she rode, either, she somehow looked relaxed and focused. To be honest I was just so amazed to even watch her move above me.

She slung her legs up and over it and gently held the pommel in one of her small hands. The tips of her fingers just enough to reassure. She hardly needed it for balance; she was so graceful.

Her other hand was firmly in the mane of the stallion’s mane. After the night in the rain, we’d returned to Higanbana where they’d offered us horses. They’d already been made aware of our affairs and the local Dono was not to be out done by GaiLong, evidently.

I’d explained to them that unless they had an awakened horse, they would not be able to carry me, let alone the both of us. Mei-Chi had smiled at me and I knew I would regret it.

“Who taught you how to ride?” I wondered.

“Oh, my mother showed me how when I was young. It’s easy if you know how to care for it.” Or you’re a Nisdy Princess. I watched how easily she controlled it and made it calm. Sure, it was trained but when I’d been encouraged to take the lead on the animal it had given me nothing but contempt.

“Do you know how?” She wondered. “You’ve somehow expertly dodged climbing on the back of one.” She stroked it gently with her hands. Enjoying the sensation.

“I… know the basics,” I hedged. “I have ridden before.”

“Yikes, that bad, huh.” she teased me, and I groaned. “But not in a while and with someone else.”

I shook my head, “this’ll be a first for us.”

#rwby #rwby incorrect quotes #jaune arc #ruby rose #lancaster #9daysoflancaster #motion sickness #smut #lemon

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Tagged by @doeeyeseddie and @eddiebabygirldiaz for seven sentence Sunday! Since I haven’t been posting much for tag games lately, here’s significantly more sentences than that from bucktommy acquire a child au. Warning for mentions of past child abuse in Tommy’s family.

Tommy stares down at the dotted line, pen hovering, running the name through his head over and over again and feeling kind of stupid for it. There’s no meaningful difference, at this point, between this last signature and any other of the seemingly dozens of pieces of paper they’ve signed tonight. Nothing really counts until Buck hands it over to the lawyer on his way to work tomorrow. He could sign and then tear the thing up, toss it in the trash. Find someone better to take this on. Take his name out of it, at the very least, hand the kid over to Evan entirely.

Evan, sitting next to him close enough that their knees are pressed tougher, bony, under the table. “What are you thinking?”

Tommy sighs and sets the pen down, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling. “Can’t we just use… I don’t know, Diaz? I don’t want to give the poor kid my name.”

Buck laughs, just a little, still mostly serious. “I mean, I’m sure Eddie’d say yes if we asked, but- You gave me your name, why’s it a problem now?”

Tommy slides his fingers between Buck’s, surprised as he always is at how well they fit together. “You’re an adult, you can- handle it, carry it. Kinard children have historically been miserable things.”

Evan tilts his head, probably thinking about what Tommy is thinking about: Tommy, beat by his dad who was beat by his dad who was beat by- etc, etc, going back the entire horrible line of them. He’s imagined it before, some medieval peasant kid somewhere, crying into a hay bale or whatever the fuck it is poor folk slept on back then. Evan’d probably know. Maybe farther back than that. A caveman all the other cavemen side-eyed ‘cause he threw his kid in the path of a sabertooth or something.

“Okay,” is what Evan says. “I could get all pop psychology about, like, breaking cycles or whatever, but actually-” he points down the hall. “When I put him to bed tonight he talked literally right up until he was unconscious about all the stuff we saw at the zoo today, that I was in fact there for. Passed out mid word about how we got ice cream and saw a bird. Just a regular bird, that pigeon that landed on the table next to us. I think he was as excited about that as he was about, like, actual lions.”

Tommy laughs, despite his mood. “He was excited about the pigeon.” Milo had been so fascinated by it his ice cream had mostly melted by the time they could successfully prompt him to eat it.

Buck grins. “That kid- our kid- is happy, Tommy. Another talking point? How you carried him everywhere. He got to be so tall, he said you showed him everything.”

“I always hated being too short to see past crowds of people,” Tommy says quietly. “All those legs, everybody strangers.”

“I think most kids hate that,” Buck nods. He leans in to kiss Tommy’s cheek. “You’re not having second thoughts about this?”

“No,” Tommy says, immediate, breathy like it got punched out of him. “No. More than sure.”

Evan nods again. “He’s happy, and safe, and loved because of you. Sign the paper. It’s just a name, and one that I like very much actually.”

“Just a name,” Tommy raises an eyebrow. “So you would’ve been fine with him becoming a Buckley if we had done this the other way?”

“Oh, fuck no,” Buck says, face twisting up lemon-sour as Tommy laughs.

“You hypocrite.”

“Hey, you should have come up with a new name when you married me,” Buck sticks his tongue out, leaning back in his chair like a pleased cat. “Combined them maybe? We could have been… the Binards?”

Tommy squints at him. “No.”

“The Kuckleys?”

“Evan,” Tommy snorts. “No- that’s terrible.”

Buck grins. “Yeah. We really should have just asked Eddie. All be Diazes, it’d fix everything.”

“Imagine the kid’s family tree project at school,” Tommy says, picking up the pen, signing his name as fast as he can before doubt creeps back in. “We’re gonna have to teach him the words ‘non-conventional family structure’.”

Buck laughs and laughs, leaning into Tommy’s side until he kisses up the sound.

Tagging @shitouttabuck @bigfootsmom @iinryer @chronicowboy @butchdiaz @homerforsure if ya got anything to share!

#seven sentence sunday #tag games #a harder kind of fear

[hwere]

like violets | SydCarmy | T | 1.5k words.

Summary: There’s two flights of stairs between her new place and Carmen’s car, so of course Sydney takes her sweet time moving the lighter boxes first, allowing Carmen to put his solid wall of muscles to good use.

Sydney sits in silence in Carmen’s car. He offered to help her move out of her dad’s house and she agreed to. Things haven’t been good between them lately, due to Carmen’s erratic, obsessive and self-destructive behavior and all of the endless problems regarding the restaurant, but he offered with his pleading blue eyes and she said yes. She said yes because she needed the help and didn’t want to bother her dad.

So far, the only words exchanged between them have been “hey,” “yo,” “wait, there’s more boxes inside,” and “let me type in the address.” So, Sydney sits in silence in Carmen’s car, paying attention to the passing world outside the passenger window, feeling and seeing through her peripheral vision his gaze ever so often drifting in her direction, his mouth opening to say something, only for him to click it shut, his eyes back to the road ahead.

It’s awkward, but it’s fine. Awkward is better than arguing for the umpteenth time about the restaurant. It’s fine. They don’t have to talk. It’s not like they have anything to talk about besides the restaurant. They aren’t friends. Just partners. Partners, what a funny word.

Fortunately, it doesn’t take long for them to reach what’s going to be her new home. It’s a bit distant from the restaurant, but that’s another thing that is fine. She is, once again, out of her childhood bedroom, no roommate and the rent is payable. She’s an adult, she can absolutely manage whatever life throws her way. Having to wake up an hour earlier than usual to be able to get to the restaurant and work alongside her maniac of a partner? A piece of cake.

There’s two flights of stairs between her new place and Carmen’s car, so of course Sydney takes her sweet time moving the lighter boxes first, allowing Carmen to put his solid wall of muscles to good use. It also doesn’t take long for her plan to backfire.

She’s in the middle of the second flight of stairs when Carmen walks out of her place without his coat. Over the top of a heavier box, Sydney notices his too tight white tee clinging to his chest due to sweat. The sight makes her lose balance momentarily and Carmen, ever the attentive, notices and rushes to help her.

“Yo, lemme take this one,” he’s trying to pry the box out of her hands, but Sydney clings to it, using the box as a protective barrier between them.

“No, I can handle it. It’s fine,” she shakes her head, tightening her grip. “I think there’s only two or three more left. You, uhh, you can take care of those.” Carmen stares at her for a second too long before nodding and backing into the railing, giving her space to pass.

Sydney drops the box on the side of the others, heaving a sigh. She fills two glasses of water and sits on the floor, waiting for Carmen to finish bringing her stuff inside. There ended up being four more boxes left, but nothing that he couldn’t handle. He sits down beside her when it’s done and she pushes one glass in his direction.

“Thanks.” Carmen downs the glass in two big gulps and Sydney allows herself to watch his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, the sweat running down the side of his face. When he’s done, she averts her gaze to the boxes.

“Thanks again for offering to help me out.” Sydney says, still staring at the boxes.

“Oh. It’s nothing, really. The least I could do.”

Then, they’re sitting in silence again. She couldn’t say for how long they sat there, shoulders almost touching, in absolute silence. Carmen’s the one to cave in first.

“Syd.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry.” That makes her look at him and she’s expecting to see him drawing circles in his chest, another meaningless apology to a perpetually buried conversation, but he isn’t. He doesn’t. “Talk to me, please.”

“Why?” Sydney crosses her arms over her chest.

“Why? ‘cause that’s what we do. We’re partners,” he says matter of factly.

She chuckles humorlessly, “Actually, we don’t, Carmy, and that’s the problem.”

“Well, I’m asking you right now to, Syd. So, can you please talk to me?”

Sydney doesn’t know if it’s due to the change in scenario—not being in the confines of the restaurant—or due to Carmen’s earnest eyes, but she gives in to her months-long tiredness.

“Why, Carmy? I’m sorry, but—there’s no point in wasting my breath talking when I already know you’re not gonna listen to me,” she doesn’t hide anything, doesn’t hold back any punch. “Honestly? I am… tired. Tired of the arguing, tired of you doing whatever the fuck you want and then rubbing in my face that you’re doing it for me, that you’re ‘giving me what I want.’ I’m tired of you behaving like a piece of shit with everyone in the kitchen, tired of your apologies, of the back and forth… So why even bother?”

Carmen stays silent for a minute, digesting her words; eyes on her all the while. “I’m trying, Syd.”

“Oh, I know. That’s another problem,” a rueful chuckle. “I need you to stop trying, Carmy, and to start listening,” she uncrosses her arms, pointing a finger to his chest. “That day that I came back? I came back for my last check. You offered me that,” she motions to the open window, meaning the restaurant, “and I agreed ‘cause I trusted you. I’ve been trusting you since my very first day there, hence applying for the sous position in the first place. But it was the same thing with the loan, with you running the menu by whoever, with every decision regarding the renovation… and even after all that, I kept trusting you. I still do. We were supposed to be doing this, all of this, together.

“You’re not alone, Carm. And I’m tired of waiting for you to realize this; that you can trust us—me. You don’t have to carry the restaurant on your back all by yourself. I’m right here, giving just as much blood, sweat and tears as you. I don’t need you to assume what I want; I need you to listen to me. ‘cause when you self-destruct, you’re not only hurting or making yourself miserable. You take everybody else with you, and that includes me.”

Only when she’s done, does she realize how many different and conflicting emotions she had been bottling up inside of her. She feels her body grow warmer with embarrassment due to her rant, but she can’t take it back now and even if she could, she wouldn’t. More than anything else, she was tired of keeping everything to herself, of burying conversations with a fist to her chest.

“I trust you, Syd. I trust you more than I trust myself.”

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it, man,” she snorts.

“I’m serious, Syd,” he runs a hand down his face. “I trust you and I didn’t lie when I said that I couldn’t and didn’t even want to do this without you. I’m just… I’m just trying to make it all work, y’know? I fucked up during F&F, things haven’t been great since the opening and you said you wanted a star—”

“Fuck the star, Carmy,” she interrupts him, saying with so much force that both of them are taken aback. “Not… literally. Yeah, I do want one of those bullshit stars, but above all else, I want the restaurant to be different from all of the other places we’ve been at, remember?”

So much has happened between her first month at The Beef and now, that their conversation at the alley feels like it happened a lifetime ago. It may as well have been.

“I’m gonna do better, Syd,” Carmen nods, circling his fist on his chest, looking at Sydney in the same way he always does; she still doesn’t know what to make of it—and by it she means her feelings regarding her partner that have nothing to do with their professional partnership.

“Heard, Chef.” She mimics his action, offering him her first smile of the day.

For both theirs and everybody else’s sake? She hopes so.

“It’s getting late. I’m gonna let you—” he motions to the boxes a few feet away from them. “Yeah.” They get up on their feets at the same time.

Sydney bends down to grab their empty glasses from the floor.

“I know I already said that, but thanks again.”

Then, they’re awkwardly standing there for a few seconds, with Sydney holding their empty glasses in hand and Carmen pinching his bottom lip between two fingers, watching her through his eyelashes, nodding his head like one of those bobbing head toys that people put in their car’s dashboard. Carmen abruptly stops nodding his head, drops his hand and straightens his back, hooking a thumb over his shoulder.

“See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.”

His body is halfway out the door when he stops and turns around.

“Yo, congrats on moving out. That’s huge, Chef,” he says smirking.

“Dude, shut the fuck up.”

Carmen finally leaves, laughing.

Sydney doesn’t know what awaits them tomorrow and the days after, but she hopes for the best; hopes that her rant doesn’t go in vain and that Carmen keeps this one promise. On top of everything she has already been doing, that’s all she can do, honestly.

#the bear #sydcarmy #carmy x sydney #sydney adamu #carmy berzatto #fanfiction #y writes

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

reading roundup: May 2024

you guyssssss you guys you guys you guys I've been reading so much this month :)

sometimes my brain gets the itch to just DEVOUR books and it's really been on me, probably thanks to the burst of energy + free time that comes with the semester ending and summer getting started! the days are longer, the last of my season depression has been kicked to the curb, and I can spend hours reading on the porch every evening. the ideal!

right now, as the month ends, I'm feeling a particular hankering towards nonfiction and juicy new summer novels; I reblogged a Lit Hub roundup of new books the other day that got my brain buzzinggggg with excitement for the coming months. we'll see if that ends up manifesting in the June roundup, but for now, here's what kept me busy in May:

Paris Daillencourt is About to Crumble (Alexis Hall, 2022) - this month I read two romance novels picked by my beautiful patreonites; I did a compare/contrast between the two over on Patreon and I'll leave the majority of my thoughts there, but suffice to say that I am not a fan of Paris. definitely the weakest of the three Alexis Hall novels, and a real disappointment since I found the other two delightful. the story is straightforward enough and has some potential for sure, but Paris as a protagonist is a sodden mess who I found just insufferable. thumbs down from me, gang.

Chef's Kiss (TJ Alexander, 2022) - hi, it's the other romance novel. this one is a lot goofier than Paris Daillencourt, which is fitting since it's BA Test Kitchen rpf starring a bisexual Claire Saffitz and a nonbinary Brad Leone. it's frustrating because the story is definitely stronger than the one in Paris but the romance is piteously undercooked, although I was at least fine with the protag and her love interest getting together - they were boring but unobjectionable, unlike Paris and his love interest who I really thought would have been better off as friends. now that I'm thinking about it, you might get a perfect queer cooking show romance novel if you somehow mashed the two of them together. they're both, like, so close to working, but ultimately fall flat.

Delicious in Dungeon Vol. 4-6 (Ryoko Kui, 2018) - I don't even know what to say except that I'm still loving everything about Dungeon Meshi. the craft and thought that Kui puts into every facet of the world, from the big picture politics between fantasy races to the individual thoughts and feelings of each character, shows so much love for the world without ever being overbearing; it never feels like exposition is being hammered down my throat so much as little details are being tastefully arranged to be enjoyed at whatever speed and to whatever extent the reader likes. the world is getting bigger with each chapter and I'm looking forward to exploring more, especially now that Falin's hottie monster form and that good good catgirl have entered the chat.

Earthdivers Vol. 2: Ice Age (Stephen Graham Jones, Riccardo Burchielli, Patricio Depeche, Emily Schnall, Joana Lafuente, 2024) - once again I've done the worst thing that you can do as a comics fan, which is get invested in a series that's just starting out and is still releasing individual issues. the third trade paperback won't be out until December, so I guess I'm either going to have to go on hiatus with Earthdivers or start chasing down new releases on comic pirating sites, which feels shitty - that's how I read Batman comics that are the same age as me, not new stuff from authors I actually want to support! but Earthdivers might just be worth it. the second installment takes us to a wildly different setting than the first, Columbus-killing collection, dropping fearsome mother Tawny in a prehistoric North America. but while the setting changes, the series is still grappling with the question of what its protagonists are willing to sacrifice and who they're willing to become to change the past and save the world. we're starting to see bigger hints about how much history can be altered and catching some clues about the series' antagonist (???); I gotta know what happens next.

Prairie Fires: The American Dreams of Laura Ingalls Wilder (Caroline Fraser, 2017) - here it is, the book that got nonfic so powerfully on the brain! this is a riveting history whether you grew up on Little House on the Prairie or not (I didn't), tracking Laura Ingalls Wilder from an impoverished girl constantly imperiled by life on the prairie to a beloved icon of American propaganda. for me, personally, this hefty book really picks up when it gets to the endlessly complicated and frequently nasty relationship that Wilder had with her daughter when said daughter was grown; Rose Wilder Lane is a FASCINATING figure in her own right and I'm kind of obsessed with what a shithead grifter girlboss she was. fascinating stuff all around.

The Brides of High Hill (Nghi Vo, 2024) - Vo's series of Singing Hills novellas has always woven from one genre to another, exploring new types of stories just as our protagonist, the cleric Chih, explores new lands. this installation takes us straight into a gothic horror that pulls out all the stops: an isolated manor, an enigmatic madman roaming the grounds, the strangling snares of social conventions, and a blushing bride who isn't exactly what she seems. I read it in one sitting, it's delicious.

Superfreaks: Kink, Pleasure, and the Pursuit of Happiness (Arielle Greenberg, 2023) - a poppin' primer for anybody who wants to learn more about the world of kink and what the fuck is going on out there. at one point I did catch myself thinking that I was a little underwhelmed and that Greenberg wasn't really putting forth anything that radical, but then I realized that speaking extremely candidly about and validating interest in basically any kink or fetish imaginable, and yes I do mean straight up any of them, is actually A Lot for many people to handle. so, yeah, good book, check it out for a friendly and enthusiastic intro to the wide world of kink.

Sex Criminals Vol. 2: Two Worlds, One Cop (Matt Fraction and Chip Zdarsky, 2015) - the first volume of Sex Criminals left me feeling a little meh, but I decided to keep going because Matt Fraction's Hawkeye run was lifechanging and I know this series is pretty widely acclaimed, so I want to see where we're going with this. (plus it's free via the library, so what do I have to lose?) this volume really sold me on the series and particularly on Jon, who I was pretty lukewarm on initially. he really stole the spotlight in this one, and I like the way that the story is ratcheting up the stakes.

The Stone Sky (N.K. Jemisin, 2017) - GOOOOOOOOOD what a book! what a trilogy! in a series shaped by empires and natural disasters, the story ultimately ends with a quit confrontation of clashing ideologies, a young daughter determined to end the world and a mother equally determined that one of her children should live. and that shit hurts! I read the series a couple of times when I was younger but I was never before able to fully appreciate the work Jemisin does in crafting Essun and Nassun, showing us the way cruelty and fear have shaped both of them into the people they ultimately are and the choices they make. absolutely masterful, a legend.

From Here to Eternity: Traveling the World in Search of the Good Death (Caitlin Doughty, 2017) - this was another reread, and while N.K. Jemisin was blowing my mind, Caitlin Doughty was giving me a warm hug. I don't know what to tell you, reading about the ways that people all over the world care for their dead and take comfort in their memories makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. death can be really beautiful and comforting, if you're not a coward.

The Big Reveal: An Illustrated Manifesto of Drag (Sasha Velour, 2023) - listen, I'm not really a Drag Race girlie. I first heard about this book when Velour was a guest on Nicole Byers' podcast, and while I was very charmed by her I was not expecting to be blown away by her book. it's just a little cash-in for a Ru girl, right? all she needs to do is slap together some cool pictures of her in drag and a few platitudes about being yourself and boom bang, that's a book. but readers, I owe Sasha Velour an apology: this book was so much cooler and smarter than it needed to be! Velour brings an impressive eye to forces of colonialism and capitalism that shape art and conceptions of queerness, and keeps this framework firmly in place while keeping the tone of the book bubbly and lighthearted. she also goes out of her way to spotlight a huge variety of drag performers and gender nonconforming figures throughout history, celebrating all the different means of expression that make up the tapestry of contemporary queerness. a great read, and one that I've already shelled out for. a friend and I are working on a documentary exploring the nuances of queer style, and I know I'm gonna want to pull heavily from Velour's thoughts and the history she's curated.

#bookblr

[papirouge]

This exchange made me realize that many of you tend to forget that Carmy is a late bloomer who never had any girlfriend before Claire which actually explains his awkward behavior. I know it because I too am an awkward late bloomer (around the same age as Carmy and sharing a lot of common with him) and his behavior totally made sense to me lol

I want you all to keep in mind that when you've been closed off romantic elationships for your entire life, you're not handling them the same way people who started dating in their teens or young adult years (Carmy is most likely in his early 30s and never got into any relationships before).

Carmy, like any late bloomer, was used to never being considered romantically, which explains why he freaked out when Claire started flirting with him and stopped thinking rationally (which is very unfamiliar for emotionally avoidant type like Carmy or I - we'll come back to this later). I understand Carmy's move of giving a false number to Claire yet still accepting to go out with her later may be confusing to many people, but as a fellow late bloomer I immediately clocked it : we are not comfortable with the attention people give to us, but we *know* this behavior is not normal/unhealthy so Carmy eventually giving in may be a way of eventually getting into the mold and abide to the "if you don't open up to others and give them chances, how can you expect building actual relationships?" mantra. Because deep down we want to be like others (because being so closed off all the time can become emotionally draining) and seek to find a way to fit in.

Another thing about people like Carmy/emotional avoidant type is that by being so closed off to the world, we are also extremely deceptive about who we truly are. It makes sense to me that Carmy hides his feelings for Syd and would rather project them onto Claire. That's definitely manipulative, but we'd rather do that than get "uncovered". We tend to think very rationally and our sense of self perseveration is incredibly strong. I just know that howing his bare feelings has to be one of the most terrifying and embarrassing thing for Carmy.

We also don't mind getting confused as someone we are not in which we feel some sort of relief because it keeps our real self away from others perception (if that make sense???). Carmy passing himself as "Logan" in that party -while being quite extreme- is totally on brand actually lol. I regularly get mistaken as a male (I'm lowkey gnc) but I never bother correcting people lol I'm fine being whatever they see me as, as long it's not the real me.

Talking about self preservation: we don't ask and don't tell. Carmy sister being mad at him for never asking her whether she was okay was extremely relatable because I tend to get the same reproach from my own sisters. Very typical of us. Fleeing to the other side of the globe to cope with a family member death is something I *get* because we are avoidant in nature. We can also be insane hustlers and tend to cope with grief or unhealed emotions through work.

On the positive side, we are extremely independent and self reliant. The scene in the fridge (last episode of season 2) where Carmy loses his shit and says he was mad at himself for indulging in all "this bullshit" (= love and relationships) I FELT THAT. Countless times I prayed to God to remove from my heart my "shameful" longing for love & intimacy that I always felt hindered me in my quest for excellence & satisfaction in any other aspect of my life. Because we are very rational & practical people and lowkey despise "useless" stuff like relationships and feelings. And that's where the messed up part comes up.

I wouldn't be surprised Carmy lowkey despises Claire for being so clingy and courting him so openly. As I just said, we tend to look down on (bold) displayal of love and emotion which lowkey repulse us. I think that's why Carmy dislikes his sister's husband when he's an all around good guy. He may have a resentment (and even jealousy?) against this man that has no issue showing affection - not only to his sister, but also the rest of the family. Which Carmy still struggles to do so far.

This may also explain why Carmy is suddenly so cold with Claire when he's serving her at the table (beside him allegedly previously making up his mind to break up with her). That's why the moment he hears that voicemail of Claire saying she "loves him" he THROWS AWAY his phone. Because that's disgusting.

I think the CarmyxSyd dynamic is unique because there's a dimension of respect between both. They share the same passion for cuisine, and Sydney constantly pushes Carmy out of his comfort zone. As an avoidant emotional attachment type myself, when I think of the type of people I potentially could be attracted to, I can only think of people I have deeply respect for, and bring objective value into my life AND skills. I've seen people criticize the fact that Sydney was pretty much a "warrior worker" for Carmy (and pretty much the whole Bear crew) and that's true. But regardless it's a good or bad thing, that's pretty much the type of profile that may attract avoidant emotional type of people. Bonding through work & shared passion is our safest field to build romantic connection through. That's why Carmy made Syd sign a partnership agreement instead of a marriage contract 💅🏾 that's the safest way for him to convey his feelings.

Again, we are very rational people and in every type of relationship, we instinctively jauge whether & how this person might be useful for us. It doesn't mean we built relationship with people depending on whether they can be useful for us or not, but that's definitely in a part of our head somewhere. Yes, that's fucked up (1/because we are 2/that's why emotionally distant people can become pretty unlikable - i.e Carmy carmying), but you have to keep that in mind to understand how Carmy moves. Which tracks back to Claire's actual purpose I've elaborated just before. He definitely uses her, but most likely unknowingly.

#sorry for this random essay but I had to let it out there #i see myself in carmy A LOT and that's highkeh embarrassing #the bear #the bear fx #carmy berzatto #sydney adamu #carmy x sydney #sydcarmy #sydney x carmy #jeremy allen white #ayo edebiri #the bear hulu #personal #papi watch

[fereldanwench]

⚠️ do not reupload or edit my shots without my permission ⚠️

At the beginning of 2023, I started working on this story set following Valerie and Goro doing a gig for Wako. The premise is that Goro and Valerie are looking into an unsanctioned Tyger Claw weapon manufacturer trying to cut Wako out of a deal and they have to find proof of that betrayal, but shit kinda goes badly when the place goes boom. And of course, there was supposed to be plenty of bonding and banter between the blorbos.

Unfortunately, for a variety of reasons, I never got around to finishing it. -_-

Mostly thanks to technical issues: this era was pre-custom poses (well, widely available custom poses + public knowledge of how to make them) and before I had started using PMU, but right after AMM updated to give us the ability to select poses right from the menu. I wanted so badly to make the new pose function work with my process because it seemed like it should have been easier (raise your hand if you remember the dark days of having to reload the game pretty much every time you wanted to change an NPC pose!!!), but the way characters would reset the pose anytime you moved them made it really time-consuming and frustrating for me.

It was a very good learning experience, though, because a lot of the hiccups I dealt with here made it easier for me to do this big story set just a couple of months later.

By the time I was able to return to this one, I could not find my notes for the main beats and dialogue (still no idea what I did with them) and I was like, fine, whatever. My workflow and style had also evolved by that point. It was time to move on, haha. But I shot probably 85% of what I wanted to shoot for it, and not sharing it at all just kind of seemed like a waste. So under the cut are 40 panels of Goro and Valerie being badasses and starting to fall for each other. Enjoy!

#goro takemura #takemura goro #takemura x v #cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077edit #cp2077 screenshots #cyberpunk 2077 photomode #cyberpunk 2077 v #cyberpunk 2077 oc #female v #fem v #c: goro takemura #oc: valerie v powell #ship: goro x valerie #g: cyberpunk 2077 #mine: edits #mine: stories

[alaydabug2]

@sparklenarniawizard

Broken heart/Broken mind

Chapter twenty

(Human AU)

Sophie and Keefe met in the children's hospital when they were little. Because of how long they were confined to the four walls of the hospital, they became very close during their stay.

As the years pass, they wind up being in the same classroom together due to their physical conditions. This makes their bond deepen.

But are they able to handle when life gets tough, throwing problems and complications their way?

Sophie and Keefe walked through the doors of the mall after being dropped off. They were going to go after school Monday, but it turned out they were both going to be busy after school for the rest of the week. So now it was Saturday, and they both had time.

"So, which way is it?" Sophie asked

"This way."

Keefe took her hand and started to lead her down the left side of the mall to the escalators. They rode it to the second floor. To the right was the jewelry store.

They went to the counter and placed the bracelet and charm down.

"Hello," Sophie said to the cashier. "Can I get this charm placed onto my bracelet?"

"Of course, dear. Follow me."

The lady led them to a different counter with a few tools. She fiddled with the charm before doing something to attach it to the bracelet.

She handed back the bracelet. "Here you go. By the way, you two are adorable together."

Keefe's eyes widened, almost looking horrified. Sophie tilted her head. "Huh? We're... not together."

"He's the one who got the charm, yes?" the lady clarified.

Sophie nodded. The lady tilted her glasses down to look at her. "Mm-hm," she hummed. "Whatever you say, darling."

"That was weird," Sophie murmured under her breath as they left.

"Uh... yeah, strange," Keefe agreed, but he wouldn't quite meet her eyes.

They walked past the food court. One of the cafés smelled amazing, and they still had an hour before being picked up.

"Want to get lunch?" She pointed to a little stall called 'Christy's Café'.

"That sounds good," Keefe said.

They got in line for the stall. When it was their turn, Sophie ordered the chicken wrap and Keefe got the salami sandwich. A guy with dark skin, named Wylie, gave them their food.

They took a seat at a small booth. Keefe tilted to the side to nudge her shoulder. Sophie did it back a little harder. Then Keefe.

They kept going back and forth until they were in a shoving match. People were definitely staring, but they were laughing too much to care.

She tried to gasp a breath in. Her sides hurt, but he wasn't giving up yet, so she wasn't either. She gave one last good shove, and-

THUNK!

Keefe was on his side on the ground. Tears were in the corners of his eyes as he cackled.

"Get up!" she told him, but she couldn't take herself seriously either. She was sure her face was red from laughing.

The guy from the stall wandered over to the table. He looked between her and Keefe.

"Is he alright?"

Sophie had to use all her self-control to choke out an awnser. "He's fine."

She nudged his side with her foot. "Get up," she hissed, still trying to control herself.

That caused him to roll over onto his stomach to try and muffle himself. It wasn't working very well, but Sophie appreciated the sentiment.

Wylie just stared at them for a little bit longer before walking away. Although she could hear him snickering as he made his way back.

Sophie grabbed Keefe by the shoulders to drag him back up into the booth. He was still in hyena mode. He buckled over and rested his forehead on her shoulder.

"You good?" Sophie had to ask.

He had gone completely red, likely from lack of oxygen. He was still shaking. He wrapped his arms around Sophie to steady himself. It made her cheeks warm, and her heart flip.

Maybe it wasn't an aura? It wasn't like her others. The normal ones felt like a stalled heartbeat. These ones felt like it was doing summersaults. She didn't understand why she had been so twitchy around him lately.

"No," he managed to get out, cutting her off from her thoughts. "I'm crying."

She snorted. "Easy boy." She patted his head. He shook his head.

After five minutes, he finally managed to collect himself. Mostly. He was still hicuping slightly. He wiped the corners of his eyes.

"Sorry," Sophie told him. "Didn't mean to push you that hard. You alright?"

"You're good. I knew what I was getting myself into. I'm fine."

"You're sure?" She pointed to a forming purple blotch on the elbow he fell on.

He shrugged, "You know I just bruise easily from the baby aspirin. Doesn't even hurt."

"Alright." Her phone dinged. "Oh, my mom is here. Let's go.

#keeper of the lost cities #kotlc #kotlc sophie foster #kotlc keefe sencen #sokeefe #fanfic #this is probably my favorite one ive wrote so far 😆 #you guys are now caught up with my wattpad audience 😌

[nazumichi]

sighs dreamily twirls hair so there’s this guy who likes to be boiled in oil

#raii draws a lot #id in alt #I hate stacking drawings sick and twisted!! but noooo I love him. like let’s put this guy in situations or whatever #lmk #sun wukong #lego monkie kid #theyre so buddies they’re so pals. idk how to feel about these drawings but girl its been a hot minute since I’ve drawn anything so #still working out how I want them to look but whatever it’s fine it’s from the heart (??) #q

[hella1975]

so it turns out it was actually never that serious

#the exam literally went fine what the fuck just happened i feel like i just hallucinated that #like im not one of those people that go 'omg i did soooo badly :(' just to come out with top grades if i say it's going to shit #then it's becuase i genuinely wholeheartedly believe it #and my headspace before this exam was the worst it's been in MONTHS like i havent felt that bad for an exam since first year #and i sat down opened the paper and. remembered everything. like i literally just Knew the answers #im not saying ive passed bc am i fuck about to jinx it and i was still riding mainly blind bc i have NO idea where that knowledge came from #but at the very least there was a 35 marker that i KNOW i aced like i could picture the exact lecture slides it wanted me to discuss #and i had all of them memorised so at the very least ive got like. 30 marks. which is enough for me to pass the module #bc this exam is only weighted 75% and with my marks from the other 25% i only needed like 20 marks to pass this exam #which... makes it even more embarrassing that i failed it the first time but whatever!!!! #oh my god im so glad that's done im so happy IM FREE #just been in the kitchen dancing around to my little tunes and texting my friends <3 #im meeting up with one of them when she gets off work at 5 and we're going for drinks #so ive got until then to nap and chill and then ill go to the shop and get us some food and wine #and she's gonna come here for a bit & then we'll go. like actually look at me. im having people over at MY HOUSE im going out to buy us WIN #im literally a functioning adult living independently who IS she a misty memory #alas i do only have £23 in my account so this is gonna be such a slay seeing how i make that stretch for a night out #i acc could budget for england when it comes to alcohol i think like the way i manage to have a good funky time with MINIMAL funds #is downright impressive. it's a skill idc what you say #hella goes to uni

[orcelito]

fang successfully flirted his way into buying 5 health potions for 20 each (when theyre usually 50). a 250 gold value for 100 gold. and then we got a ride out to the flaming ship where we r gonna try to Help People. except fang is oh so little and fire is NOT his specialty.......................... 

#speculation nation #but i have 6 health potions now and a whole lotta spunk #i ALSO have fireball. which. is counterproductive with trying to get people OUT of the burning ship lmfao #like most of my spells r trying to remain unseen. charming people. or otherwise just being a slippery lil fuck #i still cant get over the 20 gold potions bit tho. i tried to get them lower but the dude didnt seem to wanna fuck so like w/e lol #Fang's got bigger concerns rn anyways #B U T if it got him cheaper potions. he's done more for less b4 lmfao #listen ive never been the Seducer kind of player in dnd #and like im still not really #but fang is literally a sex worker and is used to Doing Stuff if it benefits him so like #it's literally nothing in his mind to throw that in to sweeten the pot for bargaining lmao #it's. certainly interesting to play a sex worker tho . Was Not Entirely On Purpose #it was just part of how he was created as a character & it was so essential to his brand of weirdness that i could Not get rid of it #very much the like. he just doesnt give a shit about physical whatever. he knows he's pretty. so he uses that to his advantage #he's not especially attached to the job but he also is perfectly fine keeping doing it #it keeps him fed so he's fine with that #but ALSO. it brings a certain amount of uhhhh Context for the way he looks at the world lmao #i didnt want to play the kind of character where it's like. the sex work is their Entire Thing. & theyre just flirting left and right #he really doesnt care about it from a personal standpoint. he just doesnt really care about sex? #it's just an activity. and it can get him money and gifts. so he'll do it if it benefits him #god. i really do love him so much. #he's got such an interesting outlook on life. it's so fun to play him. #also lmfao @ several people being like Where's Fang?! and he's just doin his own thing #the State Of Fang is not thinking about how he's worrying people with his actions and just kinda focusing on what's in front of him #his mom is worried SICK bc she heard from the others about the shit. #and meanwhile fang is halfway across the map flirting to get cheap health potions bc he was literally at 7 hp #out of 24 lmao. im level 5 so that's BAD but cant help it #squishy. at least i have mage armor up. and SIX health potions!!!! #i have many thoughts about dnd and it's mostly me holding fang My Boy up and rotating him in my mind #fang

[phantomrose96]

Okay I have a story.

So my birthday is this Sunday (May 26th). My mom ordered some presents for me but one of them (an Etsy purchase) was seemingly stuck in transit and might not make it on time. I tell my mom all good, no worries. She gets in contact with the seller. After a long delay in response they get back with "Right we'll fix it!" It ships, tracking label and everything, good to go! ETA May 22nd (yesterday.)

During the work day I check the tracking and it says it's been delivered in/at mailbox! I double check with my mom "hey, is it mailbox size?" because if not, I don't want it sitting at the front door where anyone walking by could snag it.

She says "it's definitely NOT mailbox size." Okay. I text my neighbors in the building "Anyone seen a package delivered? It's a birthday gift from my mom and I wanna make sure it gets inside!" Success! Floor 2 David (not to be confused with Floor 1 David) had brought it inside. Inform my mom. All good!

I stop by home briefly around 4pm, because yesterday was hot-hot and I just installed my window A/C that morning in the living room, and according to my cat cam my stupid cat hasn't spent a single second in the climate controlled living room and is, instead, voluntarily baking herself elsewhere so I'm like "great" and hop on my bike to go home (10 minute ride) to check on her.

I get in the building door. Patches is crying from the top floor because she heard me. I maneuver my bike in the front hall. The ugliest fucking 6-foot-tall cat tree(?)/totem(?)/statue(?) I've seen in my entire life is just. Standing there.

My first thought is "What the fuck is that." My second thought is "Oh fuck that is for me." I look around at the floor in case there's perhaps anything else that might, in fact, be the gift.

No. Me and Cat Pole.

It's taller than me. I turn it around to face me and its face is painted and this is, in fact, uglier than it looked from the back.

Um.

Patches is crying. So I just haul it up to my level. MAYBE it was supposed to come with twine that I wrap around it (and hide its face from the world) for Patches to scratch. Maybe this is a prank. Maybe this is an inside joke, because when my mom moved into her current house the neighborhood gifted her some ugly-as-hell totem that apparently, by tradition, each newest-comer to the neighborhood is required to have and display in their window so maybe this is a very good riff on that.

Patches rubs against it. She's not afraid of this horrid facsimile of her kind.

Great.

Meanwhile SHE'S fine and the condo is a little toasty but totally liveable so I'm like "Good, cool, you're not baking. You're having a good time. Enjoy your new sister, I guess, I'll see you later."

I go back to work because this is a problem for later me.

After work, after my run, after whatever, I get home and it's like 8:00pm and Patches is so happy to see me and the totem pole is still just. There.

I text my friends like "so a bday gift is here from my mom and it's the Biggest Ugliest cat pole I've seen in my life. Is this a bit? Did my mom go 'that's so ugly haha! send!' Maybe she genuinely found it cute. How do I navigate this." My friend Sarah has the good advice to maybe text my mom neutrally like "Got the cat pole!" and feel the waters whether my mom is like "Isn't it ugly? 😂" or "Hope Patches likes it! 🥰"

My mom goes to bed early so I don't do any of that yet. Problem for tomorrow me.

This morning, Patches wakes me up for breakfast. I get her situated and I'm staring at the fucking Cat Pole again. I wonder if my Mom's been wondering all night what I thought of it.

I take a picture. I text her.

Okay.

I get on call with my mom. I ask for clarity that the ungodly horrid thing is NOT my birthday gift and is in fact a mix-up from the seller who sent me this instead of my actual gift. She's wheezing between words. She thinks I'm being too charitable for the amount of Absolute Fucking Ugly this is. I have to gently talk her out of using the word "monstrosity" while messaging the seller asking what the hell happened here.

I tell her I need to apologize for harming her dignity with Floor 2 David, who thinks this fucking thing is my mom's idea of a great birthday gift for her to-be-28-year-old daughter.

My heart goes out to the poor soul who did actually order this cat totem and is lacking it on this lovely day.

#chrissy speaks

[gibbearish]

Congrats on sending that application!

THANK UUUUUU

#it was to a dominos and my partner is a gm in training at a different branch and i have over a year delivery driving experience #already and know Exactly How Low Their Standards Are so im not worried about getting it‚ mostly just that my brain will still be too mushy #to handle a job again #but i mean since it is just dominos and im only aiming for part time it hopefully shouldn't be too bad #and i do not care if they don't like me bc my resumes already pretty good as is i don't need a glowing review from dominos #esp bc i could just put my bf down as a dominos reference and theyd probably just Assume i worked for him and call him #instead of the store i actually worked at KWNDLABFKSBFJD #which is v good bc having seen a lot of what goes on behind the scenes on the manager side via my bf. i already know i am #going to cause problems LMAO #i have the Transgender Working In Very Liberal Area Right Next To Very Conservative Area Protection Aura #wherein the bosses here are So Very Scared of getting in trouble for bigotry and want to look sososososo woke. that i can get away #with being way more blunt abt when shit sucks lol #bosses don't really know what to do when The One Openly Transgender One directly calls out unfair expectations to their face #and to be clear i do mean liberal as in Liberal we're still very much in the North Idaho Splash Zone so like #open bigotry doesnt happen and the public will be on your side if it does. but boy do they know actually nothing about it #you know the type i mean kwbfksbfkd #like the best example i can think of is a couple ppl at my last job still she/her'd me long after i started passing as male #and me Being A Transgender™ had made the news rounds #and my other coworkers wouldnt correct them and would just he/him and they/them me back #which im fine w bc thats how my pronouns work is just. idk whatever you think‚ if you wanna she me you can just look dumb LMAO #but crucially 99% of my coworkers Didnt know thats how that worked‚ they just knew im A Transgender and look like a man #and that everyone else didn't use she/her for me anymore‚ so like an actually left place would rightly assume #they were doing it deliberately to be shitty and correct them‚ whereas here theyre just like. ah im sure they just havent noticed #since you went by she/her when you started here #and its like no i dont think the beard i grew halfway through working there went unnoticed actually #given that Thats When The Universal He Himming Started #im rambling again sorry for this word avalanche irt a simple congrats i got distracted JEBFKABFKSBFKDBFMD #anyways. tyvm it was stressful and i still dont want to do it but its out of my hands now so i have to follow through and at least give it #a try and i appreciate the encouragement‚ it rlly did make me feel a lot better just seeing the ask

[luveline]

𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝? | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

Your best friend Eddie tries to explain what a hickey feels like and finds he doesn't have the words. He could show you, though, if you want? [3k] 

fem!reader, shy!reader, implied inexpereinced!reader, friends-to-lovers, pining, mdni heavy petting, hickeys, lots of hickeys, marking up, neck kissing, shoulder kissing, heat of the moment confessions, eddie being flirty but also a good friend, requested here

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie strokes down the length of his guitar neck almost tenderly. You're focused on his hands rather than his mouth as he recounts last night's date to you, distracted by the deft movement of his fingers, which aren't exactly small. It's an oxymoron —paradoxical, even— that his thick fingers would move with such gentle precision. 

You shift around where you're sitting on his bedroom floor, criss-cross applesauce with an uncomfortable heat rising from the bottomless pit of your stomach to your tight collar. The white button up you'd worn under your sweater vest is a size too small. You're really starting to notice. 

You peel out of the vest and hope it'll help you calm down.

"She wasn't exactly sweet," Eddie says, plucking a string, listening to the sound, and tuning it this way or that depending on how he liked it. "I think she wanted to get it over with, which isn't really my thing. She was in my lap before I could make it clear I wasn't interested in anything quick." 

You lift your gaze from his hands. He must feel you watching his face. He looks up in tandem and smiles reassuringly. "It's fine. I kind of thought she was getting into it, she was like a vampire on me at one point, but I wasn't feeling it and it's clear she wasn't either. Drove her home. How was your night, d'you watch that tape?" 

You trace the coil of a black curl down to his shoulder, and can't force yourself to meet his eyes as you ask, "A vampire?" 

"What?" 

"She was like a vampire at one point, you said." Eddie's arm goes still. "What did you mean by that?" you ask.

He puts his guitar down on the floor. You worry you've said something truly dull for him to place his sweetheart in such a rush, but Eddie's like that. He can tell you're embarrassed no doubt, and he's giving you the answer to your question as swiftly as he can to soothe the wound. 

"Here, look," he says. He pushes his hair away from his neck on one side and tilts his head, bearing a wine-stained curve of skin to you unabashedly. "She kissed me. She gave me a hickey, used a lot of teeth. That's why it's bruised so much on the edges." 

Warmth you've never felt rushes in, like your blood has superheated, and it's written on your face. Eddie's room feels suddenly a thousand times smaller than before and more intimate, his poster wallpaper curving in, the space between you inching closer. 

"Sorry," he says, "I know it's kind of weird to show you." 

"No, I'm sorry," you say, mortified. "I shouldn't have asked you." 

"Yeah, you should. You didn't get it and now you do. I don't mind telling you." 

Eddie lets his hair fall back against his neck, a kinky curtain that looks ridiculously soft in the orangey light of his lamp. There's a butter smoothness to it, and the way he moves as he does is worse, his hand open and reaching for you. He doesn't hold your hand, doesn't even try, just lets his upturned palm hang off the edge of his knee as if to say, Ask me whatever it is you want to ask me. It's cool. 

"Why would she do that?" you ask, gesturing to your neck.

"It's not her fault, I was flirting with her a ton trying to make it work."

"Not like that." 

Eddie's hand turns toward his knee. "Like what?" 

Your hand drifts to your own neck absentmindedly. You get kissing, wanting to be kissed and wanting to give them. You understand why she kissed his neck; if you'd been in her position, alone in the car with Eddie laying his charm on thick, you might climb the console and push aside his hair too. 

"I know why she kissed you. I don't see why she…" You rub your lips together, your embarrassment turning sharp. You hate how humiliating this feels. "I know what a hickey is, Eds, but why would you want one?" 

His turn to fluster. The tiniest tinge of pink paints his cheeks. "Are you asking me why I enjoyed it?" 

"Did you?" 

You despise yourself, truly. Worse when Eddie laughs, his chest forward, hair falling in his face as he chuckles sincerely. 

"Yeah," he says, smiling at you "I liked it. Before she started trying to kill me I was having a good time." 

He doesn't put you through the agony of asking what you both know he wants to. 

You've never had one?

"It feels warm, and it's– you know how being kissed gives you butterflies, right? It's better than that. It's hot, and all her weight is on you and you have your hand on her back trying to pull her in, and she's as close as she can be without, you know." Something flickers across Eddie's face. Not longing, but a remembered pleasure. It makes you squirm. 

"I don't see how it doesn't just hurt." 

The hand that hadn't been reaching for you holds a pick. He flashes it between his fingers, a party trick, a nervous tic, his eyelashes tangling together as his eyelids inch closed. He scrunches his face up for a second. 

"Don't hate me if I ask you something weird," Eddie says, eyes shut tight. 

You don't think you could. You watch Eddie's face, knowing he can't see your analysis, and feel a shock of pins and needles in your hands when his eyes open and immediately lock on to yours. 

"Do you want me to give you one?" he asks. 

Your lips feel like they've been glued shut. You're aware of your breathing, how shallow each inhale has become, but you can't do anything about it. 

He has the decency to acknowledge what position his question puts you in, "I know it might be weird but I can't describe it to you if you don't know what it feels like." 

You surprise him. You surprise yourself. "Uh, yeah. Okay." 

"Yeah?" 

"It doesn't hurt?" 

"Not unless you want it to." A hint of a smirk plays on his lips, though it fades quickly. "It doesn't hurt. That's not the point. But it can feel… foreign." 

You nod jerkily, wishing you knew what to do. 

The atmosphere is thick enough to cut through. Neither of you like it. Eddie gives you another type of smile, a familiar one that says, I'm your best friend, I always will be, so please chill out. 

"You're gonna have to sit in my lap." 

You actually laugh. "Eddie," you chastise, thinking it's a bad joke. 

"Sorry, sweetheart, but it's that or the bed." His teasing tone is light, but he still adds, "I mean, we can do it sitting next to each other but it's difficult. Whatever you want, though." 

You climb up on your knees. You're shy, absolutely, you always will be and especially when Eddie's teasing, but he really is your best friend, and the bed isn't happening.

He doesn't scare you. 

He grins and ushers you toward him. "Alright, come here." He tugs one of your thighs over his lap and your breath catches. He grabs the other and any laughter between you abruptly dies. 

You settle over his lap with an expression not far from pained. Eddie's hands rest against your thigh and your hip. He has to look up at you now, and he does as he encourages your weight firmly downward. You're more than conscious of where you're positioned. 

"Do me a favour?" he asks. 

"Yeah." You put your hand on his chest tentatively. 

"Don't suffer through it if you hate it, okay? All you have to do is say something and I'll stop, but if you feel like you can't, a good right hook would work too." 

"I'm not gonna hurt you," you protest. 

"Me neither," he says. His hand lifts from your thigh to your neck, and he brushes his fingertips down the curve of it ineffectually. It would feel good if you weren't choking on air. "Relax, sweetheart. Please." 

"I'm really warm." 

"Your shirt's too tight anyway," he says, hand at your collar. He thumbs open your top button, a second, and exposes the flat of your chest. His fingers slide across your neck as he folds back your starched collar. They're cool compared to the raging heat he finds there. 

You take a deep breath. 

"You could put your hands in my hair," he says. Wishful thinking has hope colouring his tone. 

You put your hands on his shoulders. The very tips of your fingers partition his curls. 

He raises an arm above your mess of limbs to weave a hand behind your ear. It's then that you feel his callouses, so rough against the delicate skin of your scalp. Despite their texture, you find it feels good. He tucks his hand in tight, and slowly, slowly turns your head to the side. 

"Look up," he murmurs. 

You lift your head and stare at the ceiling with widened eyes. 

He can't know but he does, and he says, "Close your eyes." The heat of his breath kisses your neck.  

You shiver at the suggestion of his lips, and again when they press to your skin. Close-lipped, Eddie kisses the skin just under your ear where on the opposite side of your head his thumb strokes quarter circles. You're quickly overwhelmed by the duelling sensations. You don't notice his lips have parted until he's kissing a sloven path downward, his spit cooling in wake. 

This isn't a hickey, this is straight up kissing, and you don't know what to do with how you feel. You hide your hands in his hair. 

It tugs him forward. He reads your hands for enthusiasm, and if it is or isn't he pulls you closer still and opens his mouth against your skin. His teeth are impossible to ignore. 

Your hand works further into his hair, getting caught in a tangle as he sucks your skin between his lips. His lazy mouthing turns insistent but still gentle, his teeth scratching ever so slightly at your pulse as it capers beneath his ministrations. You gasp at the warmth blossoming under your ribs. You cup the back of his neck a touch too tight. 

He doesn't stop kissing you, only grabs your wrist to stop you from choking him out. You make a sound you've never made with him before, a mewl, all breathless and teary as the sensation worsens. Which is to say, betters. 

He breaks a particularly rough kiss to suck in breath, his nose sliding up the curve of your neck as he leans back. "You okay?" he murmurs, half-lidded eyes locking onto your flushed face. 

"Why does it feel like that?" you ask. 

He drops his head, his nose level with your chin. "I don't know," he says, punctuating with a kiss right there, the closest bit of skin he can find. "Want me to do it again?" 

You swallow and he must see it. He says nothing, wrapping his arms around your waist as he waits for you to respond. Your stomach pushes into his, your arms braced on his shoulder so you don't collapse into his front, limp with touch. 

"Sweetheart, can I do it again?" he asks.

"Yeah," you say, quiet but enthusiastic. "Please." 

He's slower this time. Eddie leans into your neck and doesn't kiss you at first, his lips so close to your skin that you can feel their phantom. You skin tingles from his previous scandalising, and it doesn't beg, skin can't beg, but you can, you curl your arm behind his neck and hook his head there, crushing his hair to the crook of your arm. He doesn't take much convincing beyond that. His lips smush against your neck and you feel every millimetre as they part, heat and warmth and wet spreading like budding flowers come to bloom. You melt into him soon after, and Eddie takes your weight in stride, hand at the small of your back and pulling you in so hard you can feel his ribs. 

When you think you're used to it —not used to it, but expecting what can be expected— Eddie nips you. Tiny dainty kisses broken up with a nibbling you'd couldn't describe as anything but playful. He laughs at your gasping and does it again, again, giddy hot laughter mixed with one of the strangest feelings you've ever been subjected to. You're molten. You're dizzy with it.

Eddie pulls back enough to ask, "I'm gonna undo another button, okay? Just one. Is that alright?" 

"What for?" 

"So I can kiss your shoulder. Just your shoulder." He sounds pleading, desperately excited in a way you've never heard him and you want to know what it'll feel like, so you let him. 

This next button unveils the top of your bra and the soft hills of your breasts. He doesn't look, barely glances at his hand as he tugs your shirts down your arm, diving into the juncture of your neck like he needs it to breathe. His kisses are proper compared to some of the stuff he's been doing, but then he opens his mouth and the flat of his tongue wets your skin as he kisses kisses kisses down your shoulder. His hand is somewhere under your shirt, fingers slipped under your bra strap and pulling teasingly at the elastic as he eases you down in his arms. You're shorter than him where you'd started taller, totally compressed in his arms and at his mercy.

When he pulls back, the slimmest ribbon of spit shines between your shoulder and his lips. He wipes his face with the back of his hand, his eyes glassy, and that hand cups your face. He pretty much grabs you, but there's not a lick of cruelty in his touch. Eddie's rough. Never cruel. 

"You're on fire," he says. It's objective rather than joking. "You're so hot. Do you want to stop?" 

"Not– not unless you want to," you say, trying to quieten your breathing. You sound like you've run a marathon. It feels like it. 

"I'm gonna give you a real one, cool?" 

"I didn't know they weren't real." 

"Oh, sweetheart," he says, and his eyes are damning, a loving pity in the black of his blown pupils, "I was just warming you up." 

Your mind blanks. 

"Make sure I can hide it," you say. 

You aren't thinking straight, concerned about hiding his hickeys but not what this means for the two of you. His unexpected hunger, and your willingness to let him eat you whole. 

"I don't think you can hide it anymore," he says, stroking your cheek with his thumb. 

You look down at his lips. They're rosy, swollen from the pressure.

He sees you looking. 

He yanks you in by the waist and sizes you up, almost, like he's calling your bluff, not spiteful but something mean about him as he stares at your mouth in return. 

Like he doesn't want you to make the mistake. Like he knows you won't. 

His hand tips your chin up high and he ducks his own down. An inch and you'd be kissing. That's all it would take.

"Is that really what you want?" he asks.

"I don't know," you say. Is it what he wants?

It has to be. 

"Have you wanted to, before?" He draws a line down your cheek with his marriage finger. Fast as a heavy tear. "You want me to kiss you?" 

"Yeah," you whisper, trying to make sense of this, your sudden confession, a secret want pushed into the light. 

Eddie turns his hand and strokes down your cheek with the back of it, pushing any dampened baby hairs away from your skin. His gaze softens. 

"Was that so hard?" he asks. 

"You knew?"

He kisses you. He's smiling, and he doesn't take just one. He must kiss you four or five times, your lips parted enough to know he could push it further if he wanted, but he doesn't. These kisses are unhurried, missing the ravenous passion of his hickeying but not the fondness. 

"You don't know how hard it is," he says after he's broken away, his forehead tipped against yours, "how hard it is to have someone look at you like you look at me everyday, like I'm something you can't have." 

"I didn't know–" you knew. You felt the same. His kissing is evidence alone. it's confessional.

"I know. Guess I thought nothing good would come of it, but– but I don't want good. I want you." 

He pulls back quickly, like you've said something confessional rather than him. He surprised himself. 

"I'm not good?" you ask. 

"You're good. You'll ruin me, that's all." 

You don't have time to ask him what he means by that. He kisses you again, kisses your cheek, draws a line of crescent moons down along your neck to the mess he's made of you. He kisses– he sucks your neck so hard, so sudden, that goosebumps erupt and you can't stop yourself from saying, "Ohh," as you cling to his shoulders. 

This is the vampire thing he'd talked about, the points of his teeth stark against your skin even now. There's another layer of vulnerability unveiled here, knowing that he could really hurt you and knowing he never would. He kisses you until you're overwhelmed by him. Heat everywhere. Sweat shining on your skin. You don't want anything else but this.

You squeak as the pressure turns from pleasurable to too much. Eddie hears the pain in it and pulls away, instantly sorry and willing to prove it, his hands cradling your face. 

You pant. He shushes you gently.

"Sorry, baby." He pets your cheeks. 

Your head falls back, too heavy on your sore neck. You feel wiped. 

Wiped, but good. Lax. 

"That was nice," you say breathlessly. 

Eddie sits up and drags you with him, hand behind your neck to prop you up. He's laughing again, his awful sweet laugh that you've heard a thousand times before. It never fails to make you smile. 

"You're like a dead fish." 

You cover an eye with your hand. "I take it the romance is over." 

"You thought that was romantic? Babe, I'm only getting started." 

Eddie gives you a quick peck. Where his hickey had felt like the heart of a star growing hotter with each passing second, his smaller kiss feels like the sun through blinds, a dappling of warmth. 

"Are you messing with me?" you ask.

He pushes his arms over your shoulders for a hug. 

"No. Not messing with you." His nose rubs against the shell of your ear. "It's about time we talked." 

You let your hand drift down the dip of his back.

"Okay," you mumble. Talking. You need to talk about whatever it is that just happened. 

"...Maybe I'll get you a glass of water first," he adds.

"That's a good idea." 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed, and if you did, please consider letting me know/reblogging, it means the world to me and makes a big difference!! ♡ NOTE: Eddie def pines back if that isn't fully clear, I tried to imply it with his date where he could've hooked up with someone but didn't go through with it, it was cos he's too in lurve

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #ish #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things

[bit-b]

About a trending Discord warning:

TL;DR: Discord is NOT making "Find your friends" enabled by default. You're probably not giving Discord your contact information without your knowledge. Their UI choices just suck.

There's a warning post going around by a person I'm not going to name, as I don't want people to dogpile on them. That is NOT the goal of this post, and if you DO harass anyone because of what I write, then you're a garbage person with garbage habits that needs to throw those habits in the garbage.

Rather, my goal with this post is to educate about a Discord feature that's not being represented properly.

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

Supposedly in the new mobile update, Discord added this ""NEW"" feature called "Find your friends", and then they enabled it by default. This feature allows users to use their smartphone contacts to search for their friends on Discord. It also enables others to be able to find you in the exact same way.

Obviously, this would be MASSIVELY dangerous from a privacy perspective.

Imagine if someone had relatives that use Discord. In a scenario like that, those relatives would have an easy way of finding the accounts of family members. And in some home situations, online anonymity from relatives could mean the difference between having an outlet and not having an outlet.

I'm also pretty sure I know some folks with alt accounts (you know who you are). And if Discord was somehow able to cross-reference all your contacts with the Discord accounts you're logged into, that would be DISASTROUSLY EMBARRASSING, to say the least.

So I totally understand how concerning this would be if it turned out to be true.

The thing is, it's not.

The person who made that warning misinterpreted THIS page:

This is the new "Add Friends" page for the Discord mobile app. Obviously, a page to help you add friends. There's a big 'ol window at the bottom showcasing Discord's "Find your friends" feature.

Now, this feature is actually NOT new. It's been around for a long time. But there's a very subtle change that happened with the new update. Take a look at how "Find your friends" used to look:

It starts by giving you a banner at the top of your friends list, telling you that this feature is available. Then when you click on it, it takes you to a page with UI elements that look awfully familiar.

It's pretty clear what happened. In an effort to condense down their friend-finding functions into one menu, Discord took the "Find your friends" setup menu and tossed it in with all the other ways to contact friends.

But by doing this, Discord has made this setup window confusing. It's not immediately obvious if the "Find your friends" feature is ON and running, or OFF and waiting to be activated.

Maybe it would have helped to make the blurple button read something like "Sync contacts" instead of "Find friends". At least then, you could tell at a glance that nothing has been sync'd yet. (Or y'know, maybe just stick to "Grant Permission". That was working just fine before.)

So it seems the OP:

Looked at the "Find your friends" setup menu that Discord hastily slapped into the "Add friends" page

Noticed the checkbox that read "Allow contacts to add me"

Saw that it was already marked

Then assumed that it must be some kind of tucked-away setting that was left ON by default.

To make this abundantly clear, "Find your friends" only works if you opt-in.

That checkmark allows you to tell Discord you are okay with people finding you in this manner. Unchecking it makes it possible to use "Find your friends" without others being able to find you the same way.

It doesn't get set up on your device until you press the big blurple "Find friends" button. Even then, you still have to add your phone number to your account and verify it via a 6-digit code sent via SMS.

After that, you have to give Discord permission to access your contacts via whatever phone OS you use.

You have to be pretty deliberate for any of these functions to start.

I won't say it's impossible to set it up on accident. It's a strange world, and stranger things have happened. If you want to, go check your app permissions to make sure you don't have contact permissions enabled for Discord. It's always good to be sure. But rest easy knowing that you probably don't have to worry about it.

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

In my opinion, I think that anyone who reblogged that warning should consider reversing those reblogs.

Honestly, I also think the OP should just delete their post instead of repeatedly adding amended reblogs to it. At the end of the day, the core of that post was misinformation and misguided assumptions. There's no real reason to keep it up.

Besides, I'd rather pin Discord on things they're ACTUALLY guilty of. Like designing a new UI that's widely mocked. And making things 10x more confusing for the end-user.

Here's Discord's official "Find your friends" FAQ page:

https://support.discord.com/hc/en-us/articles/360061878534-Find-Your-Friends-FAQ

I hate to beg, but I'd appreciate if people would reblog this post. I fear that the warning post is gonna steer a LOT of people to believe a lot of things about Discord that are logically and functionally not true.

#discord #misinformation

[pucksandpower]

My Brother’s Father

Charles Leclerc x Piastri!Reader

Summary: apparently you’re dating your brother’s father and Charles is dating his son’s sister … what a mess!

You toss another shirt into the open suitcase on the bed, humming to yourself as you go through the closet. Charles will be home from training any minute and you want to have your little prank all set up before he arrives.

The front door opens and closes, followed by the familiar sound of Charles’ keys hitting the bowl by the entrance. “Mon amour? You home?” He calls out.

“In here!” You respond, stifling a grin. You pick up the pace, grabbing handfuls of clothing and dropping them haphazardly into the suitcase.

He rushes down the hallway, ready to convince you to join him for a shower. But when he reaches the bedroom door, his heart sinks.

“What … what are you doing?” He asks, horrified.

You glance up, your face the picture of innocence. “Oh, hello darling! I was just packing a few things.”

“Packing? For what? Are you … are you leaving me?” The words crack in his throat.

You sigh theatrically, shaking your head. “I’m afraid I have to, Charles. I can’t be with you anymore.”

“What? Why?” He staggers forward, feeling like he’s been kicked in the gut. “Did I do something wrong? Whatever it is, I’m sorry! We can fix it!”

Shooting him a mischievous look, you bite your lip. “It’s because of Oscar.”

Charles freezes. “Your brother? What does he have to do with us?”

“Well, think about it ...” You abandon the suitcase, sauntering over and trailing a fingertip down his chest. “When you adopted him, that made you his father. Ergo … you’re my brother’s father now.”

Charles gapes at you, completely lost. “I … what? That’s not how it works! I was just joking on Twitter-”

“So you’re saying you don’t see Oscar as your son?” You arch an eyebrow accusingly.

“Well, no, I don’t actually-”

You shake your head, clucking your tongue. “Shameful, Charles. Denying your own child like that.”

“But he’s not really-”

“Poor Oscar,” you lament, throwing a hand against your forehead dramatically. “Rejected by his own father! No wonder he’s been texting me constantly, sobbing about what an awful dad you are.”

Charles scrambles to catch up. “Oscar has not been … we’re not actually related, Y/N!”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” You back away, hands on your hips. “But the fact is, I can’t date my own brother’s father. It’s just … wrong. Morally corrupt.”

“You’re being completely ridiculous!” Charles throws his hands up.

Whirling on him, you jab a finger into his chest. “So you’re calling your son a liar now too? How dare you!”

He opens his mouth, then closes it, at a total loss. You stare at him expectantly, arms folded.

Finally, Charles decides to change tactics. “Fine, okay, let’s say all that is true. For the sake of argument. That still doesn’t mean we have to break up!”

You blink at him innocently. “It doesn’t?”

“No!” He grabs your hands, holding them tightly. “Mon cœur, I love you. We can make this work.”

Pursing your lips, you pretend to consider it. “I don’t know … having a romantic relationship with my brother’s father? It just feels so sordid and taboo.”

Charles groans, rolling his eyes. “You’re making no sense. This is all hypothetical!”

“Is it, though?” You wiggle your fingers free, tapping your chin. “The heart wants what it wants, Charles. And mine wants to avoid a salacious love affair with Oscar’s own dad.”

Throwing up his hands again, Charles growls in frustration. “This is completely insane! We were together before I ever ‘adopted’ Oscar as a joke on Twitter!”

“Were we?” You ask loftily. “Sometimes the lines get so blurred, don’t they? It’s hard to keep track of what came first.”

Charles stares at you wildly for a long beat. Then, abruptly, he lunges forward — sweeping you up into his arms as you squeal in surprise. You flail dramatically as he hauls you over to the bed, tossing you down onto the rumpled sheets with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Charles Leclerc, what do you think you’re … eep!” Your faux outrage melts into peals of laughter as he attacks your sides with wiggling fingers, mercilessly tickling you. “Stop, stop! I give up, I give up!”

But he’s relentless, pinning you to the mattress as his fingers dance expertly over your most ticklish spots. You thrash and giggle helplessly, tears of mirth springing to your eyes.

“Say you’re not breaking up with me!” He demands, grinning wickedly. “Say it, or I’ll never stop!”

“Never!” You gasp out, breathless with laughter. “I’ll never, hahaha, surrender!”

Lunging up, he captures your lips in a heated kiss, stealing your breath away. You melt against him with a contented hum, tangling your fingers in his soft hair as his hands roam over your body possessively. The teasing banter falls away, replaced by the familiar sparks of want and need that always seem to simmer between you.

When you finally break apart, you’re both flushed and panting. Charles gazes down at you with dark, molten eyes. “Are you done being ridiculous now?”

You try for an imperious look, but can’t quite hide the smirk tugging at your lips. “Well … I suppose I could be persuaded to overlook that our family tree is quickly turning into a wreath.”

“You’re impossible,” he mutters, dipping his head to trail scorching kisses along the exposed column of your throat.

Throwing your head back with a breathy sigh, you concede, “Fine, fine. I’m not actually breaking up with you, you lunatic.”

“Thank god.” He raises his head, his expression turning serious as he cups your cheek tenderly. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again, okay? I don’t know what I’d do without you, Y/N.”

You cover his hand with yours, turning to press a soft kiss against his palm. “I’m sorry, my love. I didn’t mean to worry you so much. I was just having a bit of fun.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t funny to me.” He tries to look stern, but you can see the fondness sparkling in his warm green eyes. “No more jokes about us splitting up. Or pretending I’m actually related to your brother. Deal?”

Tracing the beloved lines of his face, you murmur, “Deal. I promise to leave Oscar out of our sexy games from now on.”

Charles barks out a surprised laugh. “Our what now?”

You grin unrepentantly. “What? Like you’ve never fantasized about me calling you ‘daddy’ before?”

He flushes bright red, sputtering as you dissolve into giggles once more. Leaning down, he silences you with another heated kiss — and soon, all thoughts of Oscar and Twitter jokes are utterly forgotten.

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