#<- i am likely never going to post like this again

[mrpenguinpants]

From the start. [ Sneak Peek ]

— When you’ve bestied so hard, you end up stuck in a nine-year pining phase. You were sure Phainon would eventually get hitched to Mydei, letting you finally move on with your feelings—but things didn’t go as planned. Now, he’s back to being single, and you’re not about to let this drag into double digits. It’s now or never.

Contains: Modern AU | Failure reader vs boyfailure Phainon | Probably OOC | Phainon x Mydei (not end goal)

Full Fic: [ TBA ] [Masterlist]

My offering to Phainon: a happy ending. I am literally posting this right before I roll, so please come home with your lightcone, and my life is yours.

"Mydei and I broke up."

The words barely have time to settle before you choke—loud, graceless, like you’ve just inhaled the ash from every cigarette butt ever discarded on the streets. It’s ugly. It’s embarrassing. It’s entirely expected.

Phainon, to his credit, is polite enough not to laugh or comment. He doesn’t even give you one of those insufferable, knowing smirks. Instead, he simply slides a cup of water toward you—because, despite everything, he’s a gentleman. You snatch it up, throat burning, lungs spasming in betrayal. Tiny tears prick at the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision as you desperately fight to suppress the hacking. You take a slow sip—careful, measured—because the last thing you need right now is to choke again and actually die before you can process what the hell you just heard.

"Sorry, one more time. I think I just had a brief hallucination," you say, blinking rapidly as if that might reset reality itself. Your voice wavers between disbelief and queasiness, your throat still raw from choking. There’s a ringing in your ears as your brain is actively rejecting the information, trying to overwrite it with something that makes more sense. Because seriously—what the fuck did you just hear?

"Mydei and I broke up… yesterday," Phainon repeats, sounding almost sheepish as he drops his gaze back to his food—the same food he’s been absentmindedly poking at for the last few minutes, pushing grains of rice around. Which, in hindsight, should have been a massive red flag. This man, who has raided your fridge at three in the morning as a starving raccoon in the throes of a failed calorie deficit—who has, on more than one occasion, inhaled an entire meal before you even had time to sit down—has been sitting here, not eating.

Yup. You heard that right.

Phainon—the very same Phainon you were pretty sure was going to drop to one knee by the end of the year, who spoke about Mydei like the sun wouldn’t rise without him—is now single.

"I'll kill him. Where did you say he was now? I have a shovel in my trunk," you say, keeping your voice as serious as possible. Because there’s just no way Phainon did anything wrong—this man is the biggest green flag you’ve ever seen in your life. The kind of person who would help an old lady cross the street, return extra change to the cashier, and offer you the last slice of cake without hesitation.

Thankfully, Phainon laughs at your joke.

(It’s not a joke.)

His laughter is bright and full-bodied, the kind that fills the entire room and makes everything feel a little lighter, and the air itself is easier to breathe. He throws his head back, shoulders shaking, eyes crinkling with pure amusement. And, seriously—Mydei. How the hell did you fumble this bag?

"Please don't. I'd be upset if I couldn't see you again," he chuckles, the sound warm and familiar. But the laughter barely has time to settle before his expression dims, like a candle flickering against an unseen draft.

"It's not like that," Phainon says, his voice quieter now, more measured, "We still care a lot about each other, it's just… with me here finishing school and him moving back to Castrum Kremnos to take over his dad's company, the distance is… hard."

His fingers idly trace the rim of his cup, slow and deliberate, as if the motion alone can ground him. But his gaze—fixed somewhere on the table—is distant. Somewhere far away, lost in thoughts he isn’t saying out loud. It’s not just about the breakup. It’s the weight of everything unspoken, the quiet acceptance of something slipping through his fingers, of a future he must have once imagined but now has to let go of.

"Plus," he exhales, shoulders slumping just a fraction, "We barely even get a chance to see each other. So it's… for the best that we end things here before we start—before things reach the point of no return."

His words hang in the air, heavy yet resigned like he's already gone through every possible outcome and settled on the least painful one.

Ah. Healthy communication and putting yourself first. Can't relate.

"B-But… I mean, yeah, sure, but… maybe just go on a break?" you blurt out, your voice catching on the words as your fingers twist together, the nerves in your chest coiling tighter with every passing second, "I'm sure—no, I'm positive—that the two of you could work it out. I mean, from the sound of things, it’s not as if you’ve completely cut each other off, so…"

Your words spill out in a frantic tumble, desperate, scrambling for something—anything—to hold onto, because this doesn’t make sense. It can’t. Not when you know Phainon, when you’ve seen it all unfold from the very beginning. You were there for the late-night hangouts, for the bleary-eyed conversations stretching into the early hours, for the quiet moments when he thought no one was watching and the messy ones when emotions boiled over.

You were there that night at the bar, sitting across from him as his whole world tilted on its axis—watching in real time as he fell in love with that blonde guitarist, his expression caught somewhere between wonder and panic. You were the one who got blasted with late-night texts, Phainon slipping into full schoolgirl mode, overanalyzing everything—every glance, every word, every infuriatingly cryptic emoji Mydei sent back. He filled your notifications with fire emojis and tongue-sticking-out faces over literally anything Mydei did, as if each moment was proof of something bigger, something just out of reach. You were the one he ran to, sobbing in full-blown hysteria because he thought Mydei had a crush on Castorice, even though everyone knew Castorice was very uninterested. You were the one who sat beside him through the worst of it, suffering through the absolute shittiest action movies just to take his mind off things, pretending not to notice when his eyes stayed glassy long after the credits rolled.

So no, you don’t get it. You can’t get it. Because after everything—after all of that—how is he just letting this go?

"Mmm, perhaps," Phainon says mysteriously, his voice tinged with something you can't quite place, as he finally takes a bite of his food—food that's surely gone cold by now, the steam long gone. God, he looks like a sad puppy, his posture slumped, and the soft, distant look in his eyes makes something tighten in your chest.

"Don't get me wrong," he continues, chewing slowly, his gaze flicking back to the table, avoiding your eyes, "I'm not fine with this. With any of this. But with the way things are going... I don’t think we would have lasted long."

Bullshit, but okay. Go on.

"We have different futures that don't mesh well," Phainon says quietly, his voice thoughtful, "It would be unfair for me to ask him to drop everything, just as it would be unfair if he asked me to drop everything here and move back to Kremnous with him, to stay there for the rest of my life. You know, right person, wrong time. I know, on the outside, we looked fine, but I think I was unsatisfied with the relationship for a while. It wasn't what I was expecting, and even after we got together, things never really changed. Maybe that was for the best..."

Phainon doesn't elaborate on that last point, and though you want to ask, it's not your business, nor is it your place to probe. So, instead, you nod along slowly, trying to make sense of it all.

"Will you… be okay?" you ask tentatively, your voice soft with concern. Phainon looks at you, and for a moment, there’s a painful stillness in his gaze. Then, heartbreakingly, he shakes his head, the movement slow and resigned.

"No," he murmurs quietly, "not for a while."

Silence settles between you, thick and unfamiliar, as you absently fiddle with your utensils. Usually, conversations flow effortlessly between you and Phainon, even when you’re at each other’s throats over the stupidest disagreements. Snark, banter, teasing—it’s always been easy. But this? This is different. This Phainon—the one staring down at his barely touched plate, the one who looks lost in his own thoughts, like he’s carrying something too heavy to bear alone—is not the Phainon you’re used to. And you don’t know how to reach him. Do you pretend everything is fine? Crack a joke to lighten the mood? Leave it alone and hope he talks when he’s ready? Do you just… give him a hug? Would that even help? What are the steps you’re supposed to take here?

"Sorry, I must have brought the mood down. How did your presentation go? Get any of those snobby professors to laugh?" Phainon chuckles, but you can see it for what it is—a mask, stretched thin over something raw. Still, you play along.

You launch into a rant, hands moving animatedly as you recount the sheer terror of nearly blanking out the moment one professor looked at you funny. The kind of look that makes your stomach drop, that makes you feel you’re already failing before you’ve even opened your mouth. And then—just as you stepped into the room—she started writing something down. What did you do wrong? Did you breathe incorrectly? Or worse—did she somehow know about the bruises from when you ate shit on the pavement after tripping over absolutely nothing? Because let’s be real, at this point, it wouldn’t even be surprising. Maybe she had psychic powers. Maybe she could sense your inherent lack of coordination. It’s not your fault that you’re just a citizen. A normal human doomed to battle gravity every damn day.

As you finish your meals and prepare to leave, you find yourself locked in a battle over the bill, but Phainon is an immovable brick wall. Every time you try to grab for it, he skillfully evades—sidestepping, blocking, even flicking your forehead at one point as if you were a pesky little sibling. Before you can make a final desperate attempt, he effortlessly strong-arms you away, pressing his card into the hands of a bemused waitress with the confidence of someone who’s already won. With a satisfied smirk, he turns to you, adjusting his scarf as the wind picks up, threading through his hair and sending stray strands dancing across his forehead. It should be annoying, but of course, it only makes him look effortlessly cool—a true protagonist in a melodramatic film, standing against the backdrop of a crisp evening sky.

"Thanks for listening to me. I really appreciate it, especially since we haven't seen each other in a while," he says, a soft smile tugging at his lips. His voice is quieter now, the usual bravado dimmed just enough to make your chest ache.

You nod—maybe a little too rigorously—because of course. Of course, you’d be there for him. You always have been. And you know, without a doubt, that he’d do the same for you. It’s just who you are to each other. And you’re just… glad. Glad that Phainon, for all his easygoing grins and insufferable teasing, trusts you enough to let his guard down. That he knows he doesn’t have to keep up the act around you. That for once, he can just be—no witty comebacks, no forced smiles, no pretending. Just Phainon. But then, because the universe has a cruel sense of humor, he tilts his head, mischief creeping back into his expression.

"When are you going to get a crush on someone? I've got at least three years of pining and dating woes on you."

He grins like it’s a joke, like it’s just another thing to tease you about, but your stomach twists, because—

Ah, right. That’s the thing, bestie.

I've been in love with you from the start.

---

Alright, I'll be back in 10 minutes on whether or not this man has scammed me. Your full 20k word fic rides on this buddy, don't disappoint me :)

Update: Alright, he gets a part 2. Phainon wanters will be havers.

[sharieb]

Do Not Disturb: Love Loading

Woke up tangled like overcooked noodles - too much warmth, too little space, and just the right amount of accidental intimacy.

Paring: LADs x Non-MC reader

Genre: Fluff

Writer's note: I think I'm in my squishy reader fluff era. Most of my (non-requested) fluff content for the time being will have squishy readers in mind, but still be for everyone.

Cold Hands, Warm Disaster

The infirmary cot wasn’t built for comfort, let alone shared comfort, but you insisted on staying with him during inventory checks.

He humoured you.

You both nodded off.

You wake up tangled around him, your face in his neck, your soft middle squished against his chest, one of his arms locked around your waist protectively.

He is wide awake. Has been.

For forty-seven minutes and counting.

Vitals: elevated.

Core temp: dangerously flustered.

Memory storage: permanently ruined.

I should move. I cannot move.

She is so soft. Her thighs are warm.

Her tummy is adorably squishy I’m going to clinically expire.

This is how I die. Peacefully. In bliss.

Then you nuzzle deeper with a sleepy sigh. “Mmm… Zaynie…”

He has to bite back a low groan.

Every part of his body reacts in slow panic. Muscles tense.

A whimper nearly escape as his soul leaves his body. Code Blue: Overwhelmed Boyfriend Detected.

You go right back to sleep. Blissfully unaware.

He contemplates every life choice that led to this moment. Decides he wouldn’t change a single one.

Then wonders if medically, it’s possible to pass out from cuteness overload.

When you eventually wake, blinking groggily and realise the position, he whispers, “You don’t have to move.”

And you don’t. You smile sleepily and rest your cheek back on his chest.

He will never emotionally recover.

He changes the infirmary shift schedule just to nap with you again

Might also requisition a bigger cot. Purely for... "ergonomics".

Celestial Breakdown Mode

You were just going to watch one episode. Maybe two. But the couch was small. You were both tired. And now?

Now Xavier is lying flat on his back with you starfished on top of him like you fell there from orbit.

Your entire body is pressed against him, head tucked under his chin, and his arms? Pinned under your weight.

He is awake.

He has been.

For one hour and thirty-seven minutes.

Don’t move.

Don’t move.

DON’T MOVE.

She’s so soft.

So warm.

This is fine.

This is nice.

This is a terrifying level of softness.

What do I do with my hands?

You’ll wake her. Don’t ruin this. Don’t breathe.

I love it here. Help.

He chose to wrap them around you. Gently. Tentatively. You didn't protest, so now they’re just… there. Holding.

When you stir, it’s to murmur something incoherent against his shoulder. Then, instead of pulling away, you cuddle closer and sigh with a sleepy smile.

He has to suppress a groan in his throat. A small, overwhelmed noise slips out anyway.

His face is flaming.

When you finally blink awake, Xavier’s eyes are wide like he’s been caught with stolen stars.

“Xav?” you mumble.

He clears his throat. “Good morning.”

You realise the position and start to scramble off, and he catches you.

“No. Stay,” he says too quickly, too softly.

You stay. And in his head, the galaxy explodes.

Yeah. He’s not moving for another hour.

Devilishly Still, Dangerously Pleased

Falling asleep in Sylus’s tiny underground crash couch was always a gamble. But this time, after you curled up beside him post-midnight mission and promptly passed out, the gamble paid off.

Because now you’re draped over him. One arm under his shirt, one thigh straddling his.

Your cheek resting just above his heart. You’re completely tangled.

And Sylus?

Fully, completely, absolutely awake.

Has been for 78 minutes.

She clung to me in her sleep.

Don’t. Move. A. Muscle.

I'm a villain, and I am being cuddled like a teddy bear.

She’s soft. She’s squishy. Her nose just nuzzled me.

She smells like vanilla and lavender. If I breathe wrong, she might shift.

I can’t move. I won’t. 

This is heaven.

Don’t mess this up.

Normally, he’d tease you into oblivion for this. Call you clingy. Tease you about attacking him in his sleep.

But right now?

His hand rests low on your back. Thumb tracing slow circles over your shirt. A smirk playing at the corner of his lips—but no sound. No snark.

He’s too full.

Full of warmth. Of awe. Of the terrifying, exhilarating knowledge that he wants to be your favourite place to fall asleep.

He has one arm draped casually around you, the other behind his head. He looks cool. He is not cool.

When you stir, it’s not with panic, it’s with a sigh. You shift, squish your soft tummy further into his side, and mumble, “Mmm… comfy…” before immediately falling asleep again.

He has to bite back a groan. A low, instinctual sound that nearly betrays him.

His smirk falters into something dangerously soft.

Every nerve ending is screaming as he nearly combusted.

 Then he lets out a chuckle that would make any henchman quit on the spot.

“…You’re lucky I like being used as a mattress,” he mutters.

You eventually wake again and try to move, but he tightens his grip.

“Don’t. I’m your bed now. Sleep tax.”

You do. He never moves. Not even when his comms beep. Not even when a stray wrench falls.

You are priority number one.

Trapped Under Muse

You fell asleep during one of his long rants about artistic philosophy, on his bed, because, of course, you did. He joined you later. You don't remember the moment it happened.

But now you’re sprawled on top of him like a blanket, one leg hooked over his hip, your drool-stained cheek squished against his bare shoulder.

You’re out cold.

He is not.

Her breath is in sync with mine. 

Her hair smells like heaven. 

I could die happy. 

She’s on me. 

ON ME. 

This is art. 

I am trapped. 

Blissfully. Utterly. Gloriously trapped. 

I’m never moving again.

Then you squish yourself even closer in your sleep, mumbling something about “warm paint clouds”, and bury your face into his neck.

He has to stifle a very real, very dramatic whimper.

A part of him screams in Lemurian. I am a brushstroke away from transcendence. Her nose is on my collarbone. Her tummy is pressed against me. I am undone. Reduced to seawater and seafoam, hopelessly swept into her tide. What if she wakes up and moves away? No. No, I must become the bed. I must merge with the mattress. The other gods have smiled upon me, and I refuse to squander this divine gift.

When you stir, you do so only to sigh contentedly and nuzzle again.

 He instinctively strokes your hair.

He looks at the ceiling like it holds divine secrets.

You don’t even wake fully, you just instinctively hold tighter and drift back into dreams.

He melts. Fully.

Into the bed. Into you.

Later, you wake to find him still cradling you with the softest smile.

“You make a wonderful weighted blanket, my heart.”

You groan. He giggles. And tucks you in closer.

“I’m keeping you. Forever. You’re my favourite composition now.”

Colonel Snuggle Suppression Protocol

You’d both been watching a late-night debrief video on the couch when you dozed off against his shoulder.

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, too, but apparently he did, because now it’s morning and you’re fully tangled in him, practically on top of him.

One leg, tossed over his hip. Arms around his middle. Face squished into his chest. Drool long since soaked into his shirt.

And Caleb?

Fully awake.

Has been awake. For over an hour.

Because you moved in your sleep. Got even more impossibly closer. And his entire body seized like he was under sniper fire.

Breathe slowly.

Stay still. She’s sleeping comfortably

This is fine. 

You are a soldier, so do not engage

Ignore how good she smells.

A soldier trained for extreme pressure. 

This is NOT an emotional ambush.

Don’t react to the fact that her thigh is- 

SYSTEM OVERRIDE. 

EMOTION LOCK-DOWN. 

ACTIVATE PLAN: UNFLUSTERED WALL OF MUSCLE. 

Reroute blood flow to literally anywhere else. 

Don’t blush. 

You are NOT blushing.

Don’t move. 

You’re FINE, Colonel, hold the line.

He hasn’t dared to shift even a finger.

His hand has been hovering an inch above your back the entire time.

He wants to hold you.

He wants to.

But if he does, he might short-circuit.

Every breath is measured.

Every blink is calibrated.

Meanwhile, your sleepy little hums and the soft warmth of your thigh over his have his heart doing tactical somersaults.

Then you murmur something sleepy against his chest. “Mmm… warm.”

And instinctively nuzzle deeper into him. Your soft curves press more firmly against him.

He has to hold back a whimper.

His brain breaks. Sparks. Dies. Reboots.

Every part of him is now awake and aware in ways that are criminally unfair.

You fall back asleep, cheek squished against his collarbone, a soft smile on your lips.

Caleb exhales a slow breath like he just survived a sniper ambush.

When you finally stir properly and blink up at him, mumbling, “Morning…”

He nods stiffly. “Good morning.”

“…You’re already awake?”

“I’ve been awake since 0500.”

“…Why didn’t you move me?”

A pause. “…I didn’t want to compromise your comfort.”

You smile and shook your head as you tried to roll off him. He catches you gently. “No… It’s alright. I… didn’t mind.”

You smile again, kiss his cheek, and bury your face back in his chest.

Caleb.exe has fully crashed.

Later, he’ll be thinking about this until he dies.

He adds three new pillows to his couch that night and searches up how to tactically hold your girlfriend without combusting.

[little-one-eyed-monsters]

So... we like the red flag BL mcs, huh? 😈

What kind of red are we talking here? Just a lil' dash of paprika? Are we out for actual blood? Or are we looking to end up in a ditch somewhere?

Well, whatever your preference, here I am to deliver something medium rare and nobody asked for 😅. Inspired by Revenged Love's freak4freak energy, and all other BLs out there whose characters love to sing Britney Spears' Toxic and Lady Gaga's Judas at the top of their lungs, here are:

10 toxic Thai BL mcs in order of increasing Threat Level 🚩🏴🏴‍☠️

For the connoisseur who doesn't know what to watch while we wait for Revenged Love to finish airing.

(Yes this post is for spice and the funsies. If you haven't seen any of the shows I'll be mentioning on here, and you love you a tall glass of Bloody Mary, I highly recommend watching these. Trigger warnings for some themes, spoiler warnings for everything else.)

Anyway, on to the poison!

Bachelor No. 10: Looking for a pretty little liar, as a treat? 🥀

Name: Stalker!Cir (not to be confused with other Cir incarnations)

Series: The Boy Next World (MeMindY)

Threat Level: That neighbor who keeps singing karaoke at 3 AM

Dude will enroll in the same university you're in, live one floor below your actual apartment, memorize your schedule, your classrooms, and your friend group, follow you to the supermarket, send his friend out to check on what you're doing, defend your car from thugs, and never, ever, EVER talk to you.

And when the universe finally bullies him into talking to you, he'll lie and insist you're boyfriends in a parallel world. Then use that to get into your pants. What happened to the casual "hi-hello"? Bachelor No. 10 needs charisma lessons.

Yeah yeah, the face and bod is a 10, but he's one screw away from starring in American Psycho. Well, at least he won't cheat on you. Deadly loyal this one, to a fault; good luck breaking up with him. Even when you're not together, he'll always, ALWAYS be there for you, equipped with his own theme song.

Bachelor No. 9: How about a guy with the emotional intelligence of a cactus? 🍒

Name: Sorn

Series: My Stubborn (MFlow Entertainment)

Threat Level: Playground Bully

Dude will mansplain, manipulate, malewife you into a dodgy friends-with benefits-setup, but he's not inherently evil-- just emotionally constipated. He's a misguided playboy with an unfortunate past, who's not actually as good in the sack as he thinks he is. But that won't stop him from jumping your bones any time he sees you. Loyal once he decides to go exclusive, and you'll never go hungry again with the way he keeps feeding you, but will reply with a "thank you" every time you tell him you love him.

Mostly, this boy is toxic because he is such. an. IDIOT. Everything you tell him will take 2-3 business days to process-- it's gonna get exhausting. If you're idiot-sexual, or just have a lot of time on your hands, then this is the guy for you.

Bachelor No. 8: Your best friend's boyfriend? REALLY?! 🪆

Name: Fighter

Series: Why R U? (DMD/Mandee)

Threat Level: Identity Thief

So he's dating your best friend, and he's doing an AWFUL job at it, but that's not stopping you, eh?

A closet case who's being relentlessly abused by his own father, so he decides to take the bullying out on you instead. But don't worry, he won't actually hit you. Might kiss you at your best friend (and his girlfriend)'s party though.

He's rolling in money and is generous in giving it to you, but he won't admit to feelings (feelings? eugh), especially if it means coming out to his family. Dumb as a doornail but somehow taking up Engineering-- the only consolation here is he'll take you out to an all-expense sexcapade at a random resort. But he won't clear things up with his girl until AFTER he's sexed you up. At which point, it's up to you, you rascal you, to patch things up with that poor, neglected best friend. God, the dumbest boys really do have the prettiest faces.

Bachelor No. 7: Want someone who'll friendzone you for Blackpink tickets? 🎈

Name: Khai

Series: Theory of Love (GMMTV)

Threat Level: Insurance Fraudster

We all have that one friend who's too hot for his own good, but when another person asks us for his number, we'd never give it out willingly, just because we want to spare this person THE HEADACHE of being with our gremlin of a friend. Non-committal, inconsiderate, and conceited to a fault, this guy will eat the last dumpling in your lunchbox without asking if you're still hungry, use your e-mail to subscribe to busty Only Fans content, share your Netflix password to his Flavor-of-the-Week, and ask you to answer for him during roll call so he won't fail his classes. Oh, and he'll make you buy Blackpink tickets that he'll never pay you back for.

With the emotional intelligence of a single fried peanut left in the brown baggy at the theater, you'll be relegated to the friendzone until you prove to him that you're desireable for other people. At which point he chases you, and swears he's a changed man, pinky promise. Let's see how long that'll last.

Bachelor No. 6: Seriously, you want the serial cheater? 💔

Name: Vee

Series: Love Mechanics (Rookie Thailand & WeTV Originals)

Threat Level: Adulterer

If Bachelor No. 7 promises to be a changed man, well this guy right here might not be able to keep that promise. But you'll still give him the benefit of the doubt right? *gives you bombastic side eye*

He will take advantage of you when you're drunk, and have sex with you while still being in a relationship himself. Then he'll act all shocked and heartbroken when he finds out his partner is doing the exact same thing. That's the pot calling the kettle bloody murder.

He will move in with you even though you're technically his side piece, fight with anyone who shows any interest in you, and will keep promising to break up with his ACTUAL girlfriend soon. Like, real soon. Just as soon as he finishes this infinity bagel...

God, if this character wasn't being played by Yin Anan, I swear he'd score higher on this list. Alas, op also has her color-blocking goggles on.

Bachelor No. 5: How about the guy who keeps stealing your job promotions? 🥊

Name: Nott

Series: War of Y: New Ship (Copy A Bangkok & AisPlay)

Threat Level: Labor Code and OSHA Violator

I get it, you're bored of the usual playboys. Let's find you someone scarier to mess with.

This guy right here isn't just your worst nightmare-- he's also the one guy who can destroy your career in one fell swoop. An actor with an ego the size of the MahaNakhon building, he'll sleep around with all the top bosses to get ahead and bypass you, but he'll also sleep WITH you as a lil' treat for himself.

He'll use you for popularity and better work opportunities, and will even steal your solo fans and your solo projects to get more famous. He'll drop you like a hot potato once he gets a better offer from the company YOU'VE been trying to join, and he'll take credit for the talent you've been showing to your shared audience all along.

But don't you worry, he says he loves you. He swears, ya'know? He just, um, *accidentally* slept with the guy who's blackmailing you. Oops.

Bachelor No. 4: Okay, let's try the brat who has too much of daddy's money. 🧨

Name: Yai

Series: Big Dragon The Series (Star Hunter Entertainment)

Threat Level: Drug Trafficker

What happens when a spoiled, selfish, entitled demon child gets too much access to daddy's black market money? He starts refusing to take no for an answer, forgoes consent, and just DRUGS people to submission.

Bachelor No. 4 is someone who was raised to get everything his heart desires, even at the expense of others. If his family wouldn't give it to him, his bodyguards certainly would. He will subject you to a constant parade of ME ME ME, where you and everyone around you must bend over backwards to give him what he wants, otherwise his billionaire father will definitely hear about this, Draco Malfoy-style.

He'll place you in the most dubious BDSM dungeon play this side of Bangkok, where he and his bodyguards don't exactly know what drug dosage they should inject you with, and which drug does what. But hey, at least you can trip on the fumes while this manchild tries to deal with his unresolved mommy issues.

Bachelor No. 3: Yes, Big Daddy (that's it. That's the tag) 🚩

Name: Kinn

Series: KinnPorsche the Series (Be On Cloud & IQIYI)

Threat Level: Mafia Boss

This dude has enough money to own you, your parents, your Aunt Chompoo, your second cousin Praew, and your neighbor's dog, so you shut the hell up and do what he says. He has no concept of consent, personal space, or boundaries, but every time you're upset he buys you a new car. Holidays and anniversaries are a logistical nightmare, because what do you give a guy who has everything?

(Um, your grand, beautiful body, DUH).

Anyway, you are now fully immersed in the sugar baby lifestyle. Forget about having your own dreams or aspirations, your life is now dedicated to running the shady family business, sleeping with your husband, and raising your children (wait, this ISN'T an omegaverse? Alright).

Can't leave the compound without Big Daddy, oh no. Your life is under constant surveillance and danger. Who are you talking to again? Why do you even need a phone anyway? All you'll ever need is next to Big Daddy over here. Friends? Family? They either move in, or they stay out. Remember: You. Cannot. Leave. This House. Without. Big Daddy. (Got it? Great, thanks, love you bye)

Also, you gotta be related somehow? That's... questionable, but eh, money is money.

Bachelor No. 2: In the mood for a sweet and psycho? 🏴

Name: Tonkla

Series: 4 Minutes (Be On Cloud & Viu Original)

Threat Level: Psychotic

With all this talk about toxic behaviors and red flags, you might be asking yourself, am I... also, a red flag?

If you're a character in 4 Minutes, well, you probably are. It's not your fault though-- you're a victim of the narrative.

Bachelor No. 2 just wants to curl up in his favorite chair, do his job, and have domestic sex with the love of his life for the rest of his living days, like a sweet ginger housecat. But the narrative had to go and kill his beloved brother, so off HE goes with a knife of his own to do some stabbies. In one psychotic-induced fit, he managed to upend the life of one mafia clan, one police officer, one homicidal student, and this random doctor who doesn't know what he's doing here anyway, and that's... very sexy of Bachelor No. 2. If you were gonna go psycho, might as well go FULL psycho, right? Don't worry, he'll still have time for you in between all the scheming. But you gotta scheme with him, okay? And you gotta accept the throuple, or else HE'LL DIE. Bet you didn't see that coming now, did you?

And finally... THIS BITCH

Bachelor No. 1: The demon the scriptures warned us about 🏴‍☠️

Name: Ming

Series: My Stand-In (YYDS Entertainment & IQIYI)

Threat Level: Beelzebub himself

Look, I know this list started out funny. But this is serious advice now: I beg you, if you ever have the misfortune of meeting a Ming in real life, please just RUN. Run and do not look back. No take-backs, no guilt, no "ooh, he'll change"-- NO. Run away. Do not give him an inch because he will 100% ask you for a hundred miles. In fact, running away may not be enough for this demon. You gotta do what you can to fully escape him.

Bachelor No. 10 (Stalker!Cir) and Bachelor No. 1 (Ming) actually have one thing in common, and may be closer to each other than any on this list-- it's impossible to break up with them because they WILL. CONSTANTLY. FOLLOW YOU. But if Stalker!Cir might be content to gaze at you from afar, Ming...

Ming WILL HAUNT YOU BEYOND THE GRAVE.

He will live in your home. Use your stuff. Work at your previous employment. Keep in touch with your family members and friends. Take ownership of all your properties. Track and interrogate everyone who's ever met you. Destroy the people who wronged you (absent of him, of course. He does no wrong). Hire a shaman to contact your soul. DO A SEANCE TO TALK TO YOUR SOUL.

PHYSICALLY STOP YOU AT THE DOORWAY TO HEAVEN AND CONVINCE YOU TO RETURN TO HIM. BIND YOUR SOULS TOGETHER SO YOU WILL ONLY RECOGNIZE EACH OTHER IN ALL REINCARNATIONS.

You know, demon shit.

I am convinced that the reason why Joe reincarnated into another body, despite actually desiring to be free to join his departed parents' souls, is because Ming ORDERED HIS SOUL TO RETURN through that creepy shaman. Ming is Beelzebub confirmed.

No good can come from interacting with a man who can control souls. His money, his influence, his power means nothing if it means your soul is incarcerated with his for eternity. Even the supposed immortal vampires over at Thai gay twilight couldn't do that, why in the Supernatural can Ming?

Then again, maybe you're into that shit. Maybe an eternity bound to this motherfucker sounds like heaven to you.

Maybe you like the headaches and the tears and the constant guessing whether you'll make it until the next sunrise, like the world's longest game of Russian Roulette.

In which case, you do you friend 😁 Happy sippin' and see you on the other side! 😈

P.S. Yes, I did not include Vegas on this list, not because I don't think he's a red flag, but because, to be honest, compared to some of the characters on here, I don't think he's... that bad. 🤣🤣🤣 When he kidnapped and tortured Pete, he wasn't looking to get a boyfriend out of it unlike the entries on this list-- he was initially interrogating an enemy. It's not his fault he and Pete have so much trauma they Stockholm Syndromed each other into a relationship. And the sex was consensual, even in his relationship with Tawan, who was also using him to extort fortune from their clan. This is a step above many of the characters on here, who took advantage of their partners vulnerabilities, and SA-ed or downright R-worded them at some parts of the narrative. So no, Vegas, a murderer, is not that bad as a boyfriend (look at me defending actual killer Vegas 🤣🤣🤣 Guess I like arsenic too.)

[fandomlit]

sweeter than hazelnuts (spencer agnew x reader)

i got this idea from a post by @smoshideasideasideas !!

summary you eat something you’re allergic to on eat it or yeet it and have the strangest reaction to the threat of anaphylaxis that the cast has seen. you talk about it on smosh mouth a week later, talking about how sweet your boyfriend was through it all.

warning talks of anaphylaxis and allergic reactions, swearing

gif cred belongs to @dutchesspotatoes

shayne sighed as he stared at the chocolate cookies in front of him. “this sucks. they both look like cookies.” you giggled nervously.

“worst problem ever,” courtney smiled behind him.

“i’m taking the more cookie-looking cookie,” shayne announced, grabbing the one farther from him. you grabbed the other. “sorry, y/n. cheers?” you both clinked the cookies together with cringes as everyone counted you down.

after taking a bite, shayne almost instantly gagged. you chewed with a furrowed brow as everyone laughed out.

“y/n, what’s going on over there?” garrett chuckled with confusion.

“yeah, what are you going through?” spencer laughed at your tormented expression, causing a few more laughs to erupt.

you looked over at him, still confused. “this is obviously the normal one, but there’s just something i’ve never tasted in here.” courtney snorted. you chuckled at yourself as you swallowed. “i don’t know.”

“this is absolutely disgusting,” shayne said after spitting the cookie into the ‘yeet’ and throwing the rest of it in the bucket, too. “i’m not even gonna let anyone else try it, that’s so horrible!” you all chuckled.

“shayne, that would because those chocolate chip looking things in your cookie is actually chocolate covered ground beef,” garrett announced. “with plenty of garlic and onion powder in the cookie to season.” shayne shook his head as he wiped his tongue with a napkin.

“that’s disgusting,” amanda declared with wide eyes.

“y/n, you just had a normal cookie,” garrett shrugged. “it was a chocolate cookie with chocolate chips, and i threw in some hazelnut to give it a nutella-like flavor.” everyone nodded as you froze.

“that sounds delicious,” angela moaned, amanda nodded in agreement.

“yeah, hindsight is 20/20 here,” shayne sighed, making everyone laugh again.

“y/n, are you okay back there?” emily called out. everyone’s gaze turned to you as you nodded slowly, gaze trained in front of you.

“okay, no one freak out,” you said, wiping your mouth with a napkin. you placed a hand on spencer’s arm, looking at him as you spoke quietly, “my epipen is in my top desk drawer, please go grab it for me.” after a surprised beat, he nodded and instantly ran off.

“what? what’s happening?” amanda said, eyes wide with sudden panic.

“i’m allergic to hazelnuts,” you said plainly, standing from your stool and placing your hands on the table. “so, i’m gonna go meet spencer and i have to go to the hospital after the epipen is administered.” everyone stared at you with dropped jaws and panicked expressions and stances.

“i am so sorry!” garrett gasped. “i had no clue, or i would’ve given a warning!” his hands covered his mouth as he shook his head. “that’s no excuse, i should’ve warned anyway. i’m so sorry.”

“it's alright, you had no idea,” you waved. you looked around at your castmates and directors. “this has been fun—i don’t wanna die on the smosh stage.” shayne laughed out in shock.

“yes! leave! right now!”

you waved before sprinting offstage.

they all stared after you in shock.

“like, what do we-“ courtney took a breath, looking to the producers. “do we keep going? what- what just happened?"

….

a week after the incident, you were worlds better than you were that day. after getting doted on by your loving friends and assuring them that you were alright, things were mostly back to normal in the smoffice.

your allergy was a complete surprise to the entire office, and you knew that. you weren't super active on social medias or super open about your personal life--it took over a year for them to even figure out you were crushing spencer before you two started dating (who always likes to tell people he knew all along, when he really didn't). it wasn't that you were uncomfortable sharing, it was simply that you didn't talk about yourself often. it wasn't a privacy or a shy thing, it was just.. you.

and so at the beginning of the week, amanda and shayne practically begged you to come onto smosh mouth and talk about yourself some more with them, for both the audience and for their sakes. you found you couldn't say no to them.

“y/n, let’s just talk about you for a second,” shayne said. you smiled as amanda clapped and cheered for you. you weren't even ten minutes into the podcast yet. “one of our newer cast members, you’ve been here for two years now..?”

“almost,” you smiled. "time flies when you're having fun they say."

“but tell us some things about you, y/n,” amanda smiled. “the fans have loved you since your first appearance, but you’re super private.” you shrugged. “like don't-even-have-tiktok-private." you giggled at that. "tell us some secrets that the fans don’t know.”

“well, i like long walks on the beach,” you sighed and they laughed. you smiled. “but for real..” you talked briefly about some of your interests and hobbies as shayne and amanda smiled and commentated. “oh, and i’m allergic to hazelnuts.”

“YES,” shayne spoke seriously. “oh my god, did we find that out in the most horrifying way possible.”

“i mean it when i say we were shitting bricks when you left that shoot, y/n,” amanda spoke with wide eyes as you giggled with slight embarrassment.

“let me say, everyone was so incredibly sweet,” you grinned. “like, you all checking in on me and making sure i was okay after the fact was so kind and i appreciated it so much. everyone showed so much care, garrett even brought me new cookies the next day with no hazelnuts.”

“yeah, ian also enacted the no-hazelnuts act of 2025,” amanda nodded, making you both laugh. “the kitchen has a new sign for it!”

you affirmed, “this is true.”

“so for those who don’t know,” shayne began, “the eat or yeet video has definitely aired by the time this will air, but there is a part where y/n and i drew the short straws to eat some cookies.” you nodded. “she ended up getting the normal one and i ate this absolutely disgusting meat cookie-”

“vile,” amanda agreed, shaking her head.

“absolutely,” shayne continued, “but y/n said she was tasting something.. weird?” he looked to you.

“yeah,” you sighed, smiling sheepishly. “i.. still don’t know what hazelnut tastes like, garrett said there was hazelnut in that cookie when he revealed it—all i had was, like, a burning sensation in my mouth at that point.” they laughed out in surprise, shayne offering a ‘wow’.

“i want you all to know, y/n had the calmest reaction to anaphylaxis i’ve ever seen in my life,” amanda declared, eyes still wide. “i don’t know if it made it into the video, i haven’t seen the edit, but after garrett said there was hazelnut she just, very calmly, turned to spencer next to her and told him where to get her epipen.” you laughed, cheeks burning at the memory.

“first, she told all of us not to freak out!” shayne added. “she said, ‘no one freak out!’, and then told us she had to go to the hospital.” you and amanda laughed. “like, i have never been around someone having an allergic reaction, but i expected more panic! more running, more urgency!”

you laughed again, hand covering your face for a moment before speaking, “yeah, that’s not my first time almost going into anaphylaxis. i just knew that if i had panicked, you all were going to panic, and that would’ve made it worse for me.” they nodded. "like, i may not have been able to get to hospital as quickly as i did."

“right.”

“but i want you all to know, spencer was the one who drove me, and he was freaking out the entire way,” you chuckled. “like, i stuck myself with the epipen, we got into his car and he’s, like, shaking.”

“oh, well, yeah!” amanda nodded. “that’s scary! your calm would’ve also freaked me out!” you laughed.

“i remember, i asked him if he was okay,” you smiled. “and he was like, ‘i-i’m okay, are you okay? that was- no, you’re not okay, we need to go.’” they laughed through your impression of spencer’s panic. “i felt so bad roping him into it, he was just the one sitting next to me in the shoot.”

“well, i bet- and we’ll have to cut this,” amanda said, looking to the producers. “i bet he was thankful he was the one who took you. if it had been my husband, or it had been courtney," she waved a hand to shayne, who nodded, "we would've wanted to be there with our partner."

you nodded, “oh, for sure. he would’ve just been pacing on set if he wasn’t pacing in the hospital. but he was so incredibly sweet, he stayed with me and was by my side as soon as i was treated. but he was infinitely more freaked out than i was.”

“but you’ve been through it before,” shayne offered.

“yeah, i have,” you nodded. “i knew how it goes and that i’d be fine as long as i got to the hospital, but spencer had never seen anything like that. he was so worried even after we left the hospital, he even offered to buy me a new epipen for my desk.” amanda ‘aww’ed. “which is sweet! but then i had to break the news that you have to have a prescription for that.” they both laughed. “but the thought was very sweet!”

“yeah, i don’t know if they kept the whole moment in or what, but there’s definitely a change from when you and spencer were there to when we pulled trevor and arasha out of the hallway to finish the video,” shayne chuckled. you laughed.

“i told them i didn’t mind if they kept it in,” you shrugged. you raised a fist. “hazelnut allergy awareness!” they laughed.

“so hazelnuts are spicy, you say? that’s the verdict?” shayne chuckled. you laughed again.

“all i know,” you said, gently dropping a hand to the table, “is that spencer agnew is sweeter than hazelnuts.” everyone ‘aww’ed. “and hotter, too.” they laughed out their surprise.

“okay, well, we do have the cut that.”

…

when you went to your boyfriend’s that night, you were smiling with the memories of talking about your experience on eat it or yeet it. though it had been scary, and you had been melting down on the inside, the care and love shown for you by your friends during and after the fact was sweet enough for you to almost forget the threatening aspect of it.

spencer greeted you with a kiss when he answered the door. “how was smosh mouth?” he asked as you kicked off your shoes. instead of answering, you just leaned in and pressed a longer, deeper kiss to his lips. he placed his hands on your waist before you pulled away. “wow. that good?”

you laughed. “we talked about my reaction on eat it or yeet it last week.” you shrugged as he gave you a half-grimace. “just got to talk about how great you were through it.”

“really?” he scoffed playfully, raising an eyebrow. “me freaking out worse than you were the entire time was great?” you giggled, placing a hand on his cheek.

“your care for me was wonderful,” you assured with a smile. “you were freaking out, but it was because you wanted to help and you wanted me to be okay. that was incredibly sweet, dear.”

“well, yeah,” he shrugged, cheeks going red at your sweet gushing. “who else is gonna bring me kickstarts and lose every board game?” you whacked his chest and pulled away from him before he could tighten his grasp. “i was kidding! joking! i meant, who else is gonna love me unconditionally and be so beautiful every day and tolerate me!”

“no! the moment’s over!”

[lonerslug]

Can you make a fluff fic about sevika comforting the reader after watching a horror movie?

It’s Not Real, Baby

a/n: omg it’s 4 am, i randomly woke up and decided to post this

-

You knew you shouldn’t have watched that movie.

The second you saw the trailer, a creepy little kid whispering into the dark, a shadow moving behind a mirror, the jump scare at the end that had Sevika flinching (though she’d never admit it)… you knew you were making a mistake.

And yet, you insisted.

“I can handle it,” you said.

“It’s just a movie,” you said.

“What, you think I’m gonna cry?” you had smirked, arms crossed on the couch, a blanket already in your lap.

Sevika didn’t say anything. Just raised a brow, tossed a kernel of popcorn into her mouth, and hit play.

Now? Now you’re paying for it.

You’re standing in the doorway of your own dark hallway like it’s the entrance to hell. The bathroom is right there, just ten steps away. But your brain is already filling in the blanks, the flickering light above the mirror, the faint creak behind the shower curtain, the sound of little feet running across the tile when you turn your back.

You squeeze your eyes shut and groan softly. “I’m such an idiot.”

Behind you, Sevika’s voice calls out from the couch, lazy, amused, but gentle.

“You stuck back there?”

You peek over your shoulder and find her sprawled like a smug cat. Her legs are stretched out, one arm thrown over the back of the couch, eyes half-lidded as she watches you.

“I’m not scared,” you lie.

“Didn’t say you were.”

“I just don’t feel like getting up.”

“Mhm.”

You huff, still frozen. “…You think if I ran fast enough, I’d make it to the bathroom without dying?”

That gets a chuckle out of her. It’s low and raspy and warm, the kind of laugh that always makes you feel a little less stupid.

“You want me to come with you, baby?”

You hesitate, pride vs survival battling in your head.

She sees it. Grins. “I’ll even check the mirror.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“Only a little,” she says, already rising from the couch and stretching, joints cracking. She tosses the blanket off her lap and pads over to you in her loose joggers and tank top, towering and sleepy and undeniably safe. “C’mon. Gimme your hand.”

You grumble but slide your fingers into hers anyway. Her hand is warm and solid and not haunted. “You better not leave me in there.”

“I’d never,” she murmurs, squeezing your hand. “You think I wanna sleep next to a scared little gremlin who screams every time I breathe too loud?”

“Hey!”

She laughs again, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Kidding. You’re cute when you’re scared. All clingy and small.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

She leads you to the bathroom like it’s no big deal, even flipping on all the lights without being asked. She makes a dramatic show of pulling back the shower curtain and checking the mirror. “No murder babies. Just your toothpaste and that expensive-ass face wash.”

When you finally pee, Sevika leans against the sink with her arms crossed, like your bodyguard. You catch her watching you in the mirror. fond, a little smug, but soft around the edges.

Back in the bedroom, she lets you crawl into her side of the bed without comment. When you curl up against her, she wraps her arms around you without teasing.

You bury your face in her chest and mumble, “If I see that kid from the movie in my dreams, I’m waking you up.”

“I’ll knock her out for you.”

You snort, and it feels better. “You’d punch a ghost for me?”

“Any day.”

She starts stroking your back, slow and steady, her big hand moving under the fabric of your shirt, warm against your skin. “You’re safe,” she murmurs after a while. “You’re with me. Nothing’s gonna get you.”

“…Not even the mirror demon?”

“Especially not the mirror demon.”

You press a kiss to her collarbone, eyes fluttering shut. “Thanks, sev.”

“Go to sleep, gremlin.”

taglist: @shanesevikasfuckdoll @sapphicstrawcore @sevikas-whore @riotstemple29 @shxdy0ariia @illbecanon @georgiahs-stuff @thehoneybeestings

[ang3ltine]

𝖭𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𓍯𓂃 Bob reynolds fic

A classic dinner party was all Bob needed to finally confess to the person whom he had been harbouring feelings for months

a.n - Just Yelena teasing the hell out of you and Bob.

This is another teaser! Sorry guys I'm busy with work during the week but during the weekend I will post the full story.

Before Bob met you and the thunderbolts team, his world was empty and seemed endless. He felt as if there was nothing else left for him.

But he was wrong. When you saved Bob from the void, he naturally looked up to you. This of course, brang teasing comments from the others, especially from Yelena and Ava, sometimes even Walker.

He felt himself becoming completely enamoured by you. It began as a spark, so small that he mistaken it as something else. Yet over time, it grew stronger. As if an unseen force was pulling him closer towards you.

When he consulted this 'issue' with Yelena, he soon learned that he had indeed fallen in love with you. Which scared him at first. He had no idea how to approach it.

That was until Valentina decided to invite him to one of her extravagant parties to celebrate her 'success' in bringing the official Avengers team together. It had been a few months since then, but she finally got permission from the government to carry out her plans.

The dress code for this evening was vintage couture, Bob ofcourse had help from the girls since he's never really dressed up for an event this fancy before. So here he was in a nervous state, infront of the vanity table of none other than Ava Starr. Who was getting rather impatient with Bob for a number of reasons.

"Bob sit still. Your hair's gone messy again," Ava groans while trying to brush through his dark curls once again. He had alot of opinions on how his hair should look but Ava insisted on her idea with the side swoop was better.

After what seemed like forever, Bob was ready. The only thing left was his bow tie, suggested by Yelena, who was now putting in on for him. Ava almost snorted when she saw that he had to bend down slightly for Yelena since she was significantly shorter than him, earning a glare from the young blonde.

Yelena was firm yet reassuring when speaking with Bob, making sure he was ready for the night ahead of the. "Bob, listen to me. You're confessing to her tonight. I don't want to see you loitering near the tables with us alright?"

Bob was quiet for a moment before talking, a noticeable shift to worry evident in his voice. "But...what if I'm wrong? I... I don't want to ruin things between us if I am-"

Yelena interjects before Bob could say another word, already sensing that he'd ramble on about him not being worthy for you. "Bob you're being ridiculous! She's been giving you the same signals for months, there's no way she'd turn you down."

Ava had been listening from her bed and offered some advice for him too after fixing her own makeup. "I agree. Otherwise she's not going to get the hint and move on to someone else."

Bob talk a deep breath and exhaled before nodding in agreement. Ava was right, he had to make a move.

It was quite the classy event, almost timely even. A massive hall that was dimly lit with candles and looming chandeliers and the place was already packed with people.

If anything, Bob grew even more nervous while he sat idly at his table. You along with the rest of the team was doing an interview with the press for the promotion of the new Avengers agenda. He looked around in the meantime, many were in sleek suits or vintage dresses, posing for the press with polite smiles and champagne in hand.

"You think Bob's alright? All of this must be overwhelming for him." You whispered to John while waving at the flashing cameras infront of you. Your cheeks were becoming sore from smiling too much.

It was understandable for you to be worried, you weren't sure whether an introverted man like him would cope in such a crowded place.

"I'm sure he's doing fine. It's not like he's a little kid." John responds while patting your back, he then turns your attention towards someone in the crowd. "Speak of the devil, here he comes."

You followed John's finger to where Bob was standing, his hands politely folded infront of him as he patiently waited for you all to be finished. It was quite adorable to spot his head bobbing up and down in the sea of guests beyond the press team.

"I don't think he can see us properly," you mused while giving your last signature to a fan, kindly thanking them for coming.

"Well he's clearly not here to see us." Ava nudged playfully, giving you a knowing look. Sometimes, you wished that wasn't so brazen with the smug look on her face.

"I don't know what your insinuating but I know it's not like that." You let out an exasperated sigh as you followed her off the stage, with the rest of the team following in pursuit. Ava wanted to tease more but thought it would be better to let things play out itself.

"Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that."

The interviews had gone well, nobody spilled secrets thanks to Bucky. As for swearing it was kept to a minimum, which was a pretty hard thing for Alexei and most importantly, Walker didn't lose his temper. Which you took as a pretty big win considering how hot headed he can be.

"You guys go on ahead! I'll bring Bob with me when I find him."

As for Bob, he had some trouble getting through the dense crowd so that he could finally reunite with them. Abhorrently overwhelmed and only wanted to seek some sort of comfort from you. To his relief, he spots you in the distance, prompting him to press further and almost pushed a lady by accident on the way.

At some point you see him too, and began making your way towards him. Lucky for you both, there was some space in the middle of the dance floor for you two to meet. "Bob over here!"

You wouldn't say Bob's reaction was 'dramatic' when he falls into your awaiting arms, if anything you were grateful that he found solace in you. He didn't even get a chance to properly look at you since his first thought was burying his face into the crook of your neck to breathe in your scent.

Black cherries and dark liquor filled his senses. Sharp yet addictive. It was more than enough to calm himself down .

Maybe the night ahead won't be so bad after all.

[princessbubblecup]

Undead stan... ive seen a couple fics for them and i think the idea needs more attention

Like, sort of zombie mostly just. Immortal.

Stan accidently kills a guy/ witnesses a dude dying and gets caught up in it (whether trying to help or just is unfortunately in the direct area). Hes all, "oh no, this guy is dead. I am holding this dead guy, maybe even moving him so i can hide the body--" when BAM! Dead guy is not dead, and is wiggling around in his arms while stan screams.

Dont know how he gets infected, maybe the guy bites him in a fit of freshly revived nonclarity, maybe their blood mixes, maybe the guy is pissed at being killed and curses/"blesses" stan for either killing/attempting to help him. Idk.

Point is, stan cant die! Well, he can, but he comes back.

This goes surprisingly unnoticed by the people around him. The environments stan finds himself in dont breed a lot of concern for those dropping dead, enough so that people dont even notice his corpse long enough for him to revive, his body is actively hidden and left behind so it doesnt have attention brought to it, he is alone the whole time, or any witnesses get written off as drug addicts or insane.

This provides a few issues with his internal worth as a person, but overall, convienant to avoid being dissected in a lab or repeat murderers!

However.... you can only die so many times before it gets noticed.

NOW! i have two ways this could go.

Option one: it actually takes a while to revive, working from the inside out. Waking up and breathing is the step right before healing external injuries. This makes it hard to tell the dead guy is alive until hes wiggling around on your morgue slab. That, and maybe it takes a little longer after every death (seriously stanley, you die, like, a lot) to come back.

So, stan is FINALLY found as a john doe and brought to a hospital and then to a morgue. He stays dead long enough for fords number to be found on him and then called and then ford to come to identify him. Long enough for ford to come back at midnight with plans to steal a body. Long enough for ford to start sliding the body off the table, but NOT long enough to make it to the door.

Stan wakes up, starts wiggling and gargling in post- unmortemdem, and ford starts screaming and dropping him and looking for a weapon because ohhhhh my god thats a zombie, stan is a zombie, holy crap.

For funsies maybe ford stabs him to death in a panic and then immediately regrets it because damn, stan is dead again. Starts to steal him again and hopefully find an anti zombie charm at some point, the whole thing happens again on the drive home and stan manages to explain before being killed again.

Option 2: stan goes up to meet ford, postcard in hand, and-- youll never guess-- fords crossbow introduction ends with a bolt sticking through someplace vital in stans anatomy.

Ford starts screaming, apologizing, trying to stop the bleeding. Ford tries putting pressure on the wound, he tries to stem the bloodflow, he tries cpr for the life of him. He has a full breakdown, he tries so hard but stan chokes and gasps and bleeds and dies.

Its useless.

He sits in the snow, starting to have a full mental break as he starts crying to his brothers corpse all the things he needs to and would never say, its all very tragic and sad, and we know how it goes by now.

Stan wakes up mid soliloquy and scares the shit out of ford, yelling about the injustice of being murdered literally right when they see each other for the first time in a decade, while ford starts wailing all over again from relief.

Either way, frankenstan is rudely interrupted by stan just solving the issue himself. By being undead.

Uhhhh, where to go from here.... im not sure... yet.

[antithetical-bolter]

Out Of The Woods

Chapter 1

Shoutout to @antisocialfiore for helping me with the title!! This is my first fic I’ve posted to tumblr so any tips on how to keep chapters organized and whatnot would be lovely. Hang in there while I figure it out lmao. Chapter 2 is written and will be posted shortly <3

5.0k words | Seasoned ER nurse Iris McDowell finds herself pregnant after a one night stand with Robby, who is predictably handling things very poorly.

Warnings: unplanned pregnancy, discussion of abortions, excessive use of the word fuck, commas, and em dashes.

Tag list: @antisocialfiore @snowflames-world @eviemonroeer

Page dividers by: @cafekitsune

Next

Iris

Well, shit.

That is most definitely two pink lines.

On three different tests. Iris Elizabeth McDowell, you fucking idiot.

Just my fucking luck, that getting tipsy and fucking the very hot and very emotionally unavailable attending would result in a god damn pregnancy. I’d been blissfully ignorant the last 3 weeks - my periods have never been all that regular but as soon as the nausea and the sore boobs hit I knew it was time to face the music. And sure enough, the music was telling me that I was pregnant. With Michael Robinavitch’s baby.

Robby, who has barely made eye contact with me past what was required for patient care since it happened. Robby, who let it slip at the bar that he had been interested in me for months now. Robby, who I was unfortunately in love with. Had been for an embarrassingly long time now - so him up and leaving the morning after the best sex of my life triggered a full blown crisis. Almost a decade of pining, all for one (admittedly spectacular) night. The whole debacle had me briefly considering finding a new ER to work at, but I decided I wouldn’t let a man dictate my life. Even if it was that man.

Do I want to keep it? I think so? Should I want to keep it? Probably not.

It’s not like I’m some young new grad nurse who doesn’t have a career. I’ve been an ER nurse for more than ten years now, working at the Pitt for all but the first two. I’m damn good at my job, so much so that I occasionally fill in for the charge nurses, and I have a great support system. But the thought of having to tell Robby that I’m carrying his child? Genuinely makes me want to puke. Again.

I have money, a 2 bedroom condo, a regular enough schedule that daycare wouldn’t be an issue. But do I really want to be a single mom? Put my body through the fucking wild ride that is pregnancy? Oh god. Pregnancy scrubs? The absolute worst. Not to mention actually giving birth.

Thankfully, the universe has seen fit to give me a single win in all this, and I have the next 4 days off to figure out how to be normal at work again. First order of business - call my OB. A brief phone call later, I have an appointment for 9:45. Just over two hours from now.

Fuck, I could really use my mom right now. Not like we were ever super close, with her living on the west coast and me getting the fuck out of my tiny ass hometown right after high school, but I’d like the option to call her and freak out. Both her and my dad were killed in a car accident just over three years ago, and somehow this scenario had never crossed my mind. I have an older brother who lives back home in Washington, but we have very different works views and I highly doubt he would be a good source of familial support. Cue the tears - but they feel cathartic. A release I desperately need right now.

My therapist is going to lose her ever-loving mind. A quick look on her patient portal reveals that she has an opening this afternoon, so I guess that makes 2 wins from the universe for me today. I’ll take what I can get.

I am very picky about my medical providers. Working in the field myself means I have seen some shit doctors, and I just flat out refuse to put my care in the hands of someone I don’t trust. My OB is the best of the best, and she’s really earning her copay right now.

The transvaginal ultrasound was quick, confirming that I definitely have something cooking in there. The tech asked if I wanted to hear the heartbeat - but I said no. I’m right at the six week mark so a heartbeat can be heard at this point but I am not ready for that just yet. Not until I decide what I want to do. My OB, bless her, ran me through all of my options. She knows I know them, I’m an ER nurse after all, but it’s like all my schooling and experience fell out of my brain the second the stick(s) turned pink.

She encouraged me to take my time making a decision, since I have a few weeks to make a choice either way. We went through what it would look like to keep, terminate, and adopt. Having all the information laid out in front of me makes me feel both better and far, far worse.

She also tells me that no matter what the father wants, this is my choice. That I should lean on my people, and find someone I trust to tell. That if I do decide to terminate, I need to have someone with me after I take the medications to make sure everything progresses as it should.

I leave the appointment armed with 4 different pamphlets and 3 sonogram images that I have yet to look at.

Therapy is significantly harder. Erica, bless her, has been my therapist since I moved to Pittsburgh for college when I was 18. She knows me far too well - immediately clocks that it must be hard to be dealing with all of this without my mom’s support, which triggers a crying spell. Once I’ve recovered from that we move on to how I’m going to tell Robby.

“I don’t know, Erica. He’s barely looked at me since we slept together, I can count the non-patient related words he’s said to me since then on one hand and none of them were particularly nice.” That man needs therapy more than anyone I’ve ever met. He’s an incredible doctor and great to his friends, but ever since he fucked up his relationship with Collins so badly that she left the state he’s been especially moody.

“How do you think he’s going to react to this?”

“Not particularly well. He’ll freak out, not speak to me for a few days, and then inevitably come back around and say that he’ll help me with whatever I choose. I know that if I decide to keep it that he would help, but that it would be out of obligation and that is not what I want. I would never keep him away from his kid but I can almost guarantee that I would be eternally fucked up over it.” Erica nods thoughtfully, taking a pause to formulate a reply that won’t send me over the edge.

“Maybe you should start by telling someone else, then. Maybe Samira, or Dana? Someone who will support you unconditionally without any emotional baggage taking up space in the back seat. They could help you decide what to say when you tell him, and support you if it goes as poorly as you think it will.” She gives me a very pointed look before continuing. “Also, and really think about this before brushing it off, maybe this conversation between you and Robby will help you both. A push that requires communication where there is a gap right now.”

“I - I, ugh. I just really, really don’t want to have to do this with him. He really hurt me when he just up and fucking ghosted me. Especially because he spent the whole night prior telling me that he’s been wanting to kiss me for months, and a whole bunch of other shit that he clearly didn’t mean.” He doesn’t seem like the type to spout bullshit to get a woman into bed with him, but I really cannot come up with another reason for him to be acting this way.

“It’s fair and reasonable for you to be scared. And if he screws this up, you have my blessing to tell him to fuck off. But no matter what you choose, you will be okay. It might suck for a while, but you will come out the other side.” The unspoken words are loud - that I will be okay but that it’s going to take a while for me to get there.

“I know you’re right but it’s hard to see right now.” Pretty much impossible, actually.

“That’s okay, I’m here to remind you. Your homework this week is to tell someone you trust.” Sad that I don’t consider the father someone I trust, but he definitely is not making that list right now.

“I’m going to call Dana literally as soon as we hang up - Samira’s working right now.” She nods in response, flashes me what I’m sure is supposed to be a reassuring smile but it just doesn’t land. We schedule an appointment for next week and then we hang up. I give myself 10 minutes to spiral before I pick up the phone and call Dana.

Dana picks up her phone on the third ring.

“Hey, kid! Where are ya?” I can hear the sounds of what is likely a bar or restaurant in the background and belatedly realize that there’s ER social plans today - most of day shift is gathered at the sports bar near the hospital to watch the first Penguins game of the regular season. Hockey is one of the few sports I will watch voluntarily, and I definitely told Dana I would try and make it out tonight.

“Shit, Dana. I totally spaced, had a bit of a personal crisis. Can I call you later? When you aren’t surrounded by our coworkers?” I hear a booming laugh in the background and immediately place it as Robby’s. Because of course he’s there. “Can you just, uh - text me when you leave the bar?”

“Hold up, Iris, wait. Are you okay?” Her voice changes, drops lower and sounds muffled. Like she’s covering her mouth while she speaks in an effort to afford me some privacy. She knows something happened between Robby and I, and has had a front row seat to whatever the fuck is going on right now so she’s sensitive to the fact that I might not want him knowing about said personal crisis. Little does she fucking know that he’s going to be quite privy to the details when I’m no longe actively in a state of crisis.

“I mean, okay is not really the word I would use but I’m safe and not currently in any physical danger.” Very much not okay, but I don’t want to make her change her plans for me. It’s so rare that we’re all able to see each other outside the Pitt and I know she values this time with her friends.

“Iris, honey. What’s wrong?” I don’t answer, but I do start to cry. My best efforts at keeping my sobs quiet are unsuccessful. “Oh fuck, you know what, never mind, I’m just gonna come over. Hang tight, okay?” I hear the screech of a chair as she presumably scoots back and stands up. Her voice is quieter as she speaks next, having moved the phone so she can talk to whoever else is at the table. “Change of plans, guys. I have to go. Enjoy the game and I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

The crying has not slowed in the thirty seconds it takes her to get outside.

“Dana, really, I appreciate it but you can stay and finish the game. I can wait.” I must not convince her, because she laughs at me. Fairly so, given that my words are very much broken up by sobs.

“Absolutely not. I’m on my way, I’ll see you in ten minutes.”

She arrives in eight.

I’m waiting by the door, and open it before she has a chance to knock. I’m still crying - no longer sobbing, but a pretty steady stream of tears track their way down my cheeks. I see the question forming on her lips but I beat her to it and hold out my three positive tests for her to see.

“Are we happy? Shopping? Making an appointment at the clinic?” Classic Dana - no big reaction, just thoughtful statements of action. Unfortunately I don’t know what I want.

“I don’t know yet. Took the tests early this morning and was able to get in last minute to see OB to confirm it. I’m just about 6 weeks along and I have no fucking clue what I want to do.” She closes the door behind her and immediately pulls me into a tight hug. Rubs my back with one hand and runs the other through my hair, tells me that it’s okay to not know what I want and that she’s here for me no matter what. Does not ask me who the father is. Unfortunately that is the biggest piece to this puzzle and I know I need to tell her.

We move to my couch and she makes me drink some water before continuing to fill her in. I decide it’s best to just fucking do it - no preamble and no backstory.

“Robby’s the father.” That stops her in her tracks for a second. Her eyes go wide and I can tell she’s working extremely hard to keep her own emotions under wraps.

“Well, shit. So that ‘thing’ that happened between you guys in September was sex?” I nod. “And, let me hazard a guess here, he freaked the fuck out and now he’s unable to act normal around you.” I nod again.

“That about sums it up. He left before I woke up and any effort I made to talk to him about it ended with him getting snippy and walking away from me. My texts went unanswered so I just stopped trying.”

“What an asshole - I’m so sorry, Iris.” She leans over to pull me into another hug. “Are you going to tell him?”

“I mean I kinda have to, don’t I? Would be a real dick move of me to not tell him about this. Even if he doesn’t deserve me speaking to him ever again.”

“I think that depends on what you decide you want to do. If you want to keep it, then yeah you’re gonna have to tell him. But if you don’t, then we go to the clinic this week and he remains none the wiser. Either choice is okay, whatever you decide to do will be the right decision for you.” I take a deep breath, enjoying having her here to support me.

“See that’s the thing, my first instinct is that I want to keep it. I’ve always thought that I could go either way on having kids, but now that it’s staring me in the face I can’t imagine not going through with it.” Saying it out loud all but confirms my decision - this is happening. I’m going to have a baby. And I’m going to have to tell Robby.

“Then that’s what will happen. I’ve got your back through all of it, and if you want me to hide upstairs while you tell Robby I can do that. I’ll even chase him out if he acts a fool.” She’s serious, and I love her for that.

“Might not be a terrible idea. The last thing I want is for him to be involved purely out of obligation.” I debate stopping there, not divulging the depths of my (extremely unadvised) feelings for him, but I’ve already gone this far so what’s the harm in spilling the whole story. “I’m like, stupidly in love with that man. Have been for a long time, and I was happy to have it kinda live in the background of my life up until recently. He approached me at that party we had for Jesse and we hit it off, and he was really sweet. Told me that he’s been wanting to kiss me for months and that he hasn’t been able to get me out of his head. We each had a few drinks, but I wasn’t drunk. A little tipsy for sure, but sober enough to consent and be smart about it. We even used a fucking condom! Then he was gone when I woke up and you’ve seen how he’s been since then.” She grimaces a little before responding.

“Yeah, he’s been in rare Robby form. Very broody. But, Iris, I really think he meant what he told you. Handled it terribly for sure, but he’s so thoroughly fucked up in the past that his ex literally left the state. He’s probably just trying to protect you in his own, very fucked up way.” I laugh and try to wipe away the tears staining my face, but they just keep coming.

“Well he’s doing a terrible job. Is it crazy of me to make him go to therapy before I let him really be involved? Is that, like, blackmailing?” The last thing I want out of all this is for my kid to be hurt in the same way - their dad hot and cold, unable to really make a commitment to be present in their life.

“Maybe a bit, but I fully support you in that. I actually think that’s plenty reasonable, and if he gives you pushback then he’ll hear about it from me.” So quick to jump in and support me, even when the problem is one of her best and longest friends. “If it makes you feel any better, the second I said your name at the bar earlier he looked like he was two seconds away from taking my phone and checking on you himself.” A mirthful laugh escapes me at that - it does not make me feel better.

“Then blackmail it is. Now, how the fuck am I supposed to have this conversation with him when I can’t even get him to say three consecutive words to me that aren’t directly work related?”

We spend the next hour brainstorming, and by the time she leaves I feel better. I have a loose plan, my tear ducts have long since run dry, and I no longer feel like I’m about to majorly fuck my whole life up.

I make myself a list before I go to sleep - things I need to buy for first trimester health, food I should avoid, and symptoms I’ve been experiencing so I can be as informed as possible.

My list exhausts me (that, and the tiny human I’m currently forming) and I fall into a blissful, dreamless sleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

I spend the next few days making more lists. Baby names, furniture, birth plans. If there’s a relevant list to be made - it’s currently up on my fridge.

My first day back at work since The Event (TM) is fine, I guess. Dana greets me with a hug and a quiet check in, and while this isn’t that out of the ordinary it is unusual that she pulls me off the floor to do it. I feel Robby’s eyes track us as we walk back in from the ambulance bay, especially when we get closer and Dana does not smell like she’s just come back from a smoke break.

I treat Robby to his own taste of the silent treatment. No niceties, no attempts at small talk. Strictly patient care and work related conversations, and honestly conversations is a generous word. Terse exchanges is more accurate. Not even a polite smile in his direction. I don’t let it get in the way of my job, and if I do say so myself I really knock it out of the park nursing wise. Even escaping to the bathroom a few times per shift to puke doesn’t get in the way of my determination to keep up my ‘everything is fine’ facade.

Three shifts pass in this manner, three shifts where I can feel him fucking watching me like he knows something is up. Thirty-six hours of me sitting on the biggest fucking secret I’ve ever kept when all I really want to do is yell “Hey, fuckface! You ghosted me and it sucked, and I’m fucking angry about. By the way, I’m pregnant with your child. Get some god damn therapy if you’d like to be involved!” And then walk out, middle fingers up, leaving him to stand with the aftermath of his actions.

But, unfortunately, I am a professional adult so I don’t do that. I do heavily fantasize about it though.

Samira notices that something is up right away, but she is also on a long stretch of shifts so we agree to hang out when our work weeks are both done. We meet for breakfast (at 8pm) at the closest Denny’s and she spits out her coffee when I tell her that not only did I sleep with Robby, but that there’s going to be literal life long consequences for it come early June.

“Oh my god. I would ask if you’re okay, but I think I can answer that myself. When are you going to tell him?” I shrug as I finish my bite of French toast.

“Great question. He’s been fucking frosty with me lately and it doesn’t have me feeling very generous towards him. I know he deserves to know but god the thought of that conversation makes me want to punch a wall.” Another bite of toast. “I know that a few weeks after we slept together was the anniversary of Pitt Fest and Adamson’s death, but the way he’s been treating me does not make me want to tell him. It makes me want to be spiteful and keep it from him until the last possible second, so he can be as blindsided as I feel right now. Very immature of me and I won’t do that but it’s nice to entertain it for a bit.”

“He’s clearly fumbling the bag pretty hard right now, but you and I both know he’s going to do the right thing.”

“I know, and that’s almost worse. If he’s going to be all emotionally constipated while attempting to be present I am going to lose my shit. Dana said she thinks I am well within my rights to threaten him with therapy, so I think that’s my game plan.”

“That’s - that’s actually a great idea. If anything will get that man into therapy it’s the threat of potentially fucking up his child’s life.” She chuckles a bit. “Can I tell Jack? I will obviously swear him to secrecy but it might be nice to have him in your corner.”

“Please do - but if he tells Robby before I do I will kill him.”

“And I will help you hide the body. Also, he’s picking me up from this meal so if you’d like to fill him in yourself you’re about to have your window.” Like she summoned him, Jack Abbot walks in the door. He immediately finds Samira and she waves him over.

I decide that I do not have another long, emotional story in me and just spit it out.

“Hi, Jack.” He looks at me a little weird, we’re friendly at work but I don’t think I’ve ever called him by his first name before. “Welcome to the party, you’re about to hear some very classified information so prepare yourself.” He stares at me, a little stunned, but I just keep on talking. “I’m pregnant and keeping it. Robby’s the father, but I haven’t told him yet.” His jaw drops open, and he has to open and close it a few times before actual words come out.

“Uhhh, wow. Fuck. Are you, uhm, are you going to tell him?”

“I mean, yeah. Not sure when or how, but yeah. What’s your opinion on me using this as an opportunity to threaten him into therapy?” This gets a loud, genuine laugh from him.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea. You want my therapists number? I’ve given it to him multiple times but he’s clearly never used it.” Abbot doesn’t wait for me to answer, just pulls a card out of his wallet and hands it to me. “Are you doing okay? Managing symptoms alright?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks. Freaking the fuck out, but okay.” With that, I decide I’ve had enough social interaction for the day. “Now that all that’s out of the way, I’m going to head home. Samira, love you, thanks for the support, and Jack I’m a little sorry to drag you into all this but thankful that you’re here anyway.” I leave them at that, dropping enough cash to cover my meal and all but running to my car so I can have my next meltdown in peace.

I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I let another two full weeks pass before I even consider telling Robby. Erica, Dana, and Samira are all on my case a little bit but ultimately don’t push me too hard. My OB and therapist have both been informed that I’ve decided to continue the pregnancy, and the appropriate follow up appointments have been scheduled.

It takes an extra long session with Erica, complete with roll play and multiple outcomes of the conversation for me to feel even slightly ready to broach the subject with him. We decide that I’ll attempt to talk to him after our next shift together, a rare night where neither of us have to be in the next morning.

Dana knows, and as she leaves out the ambulance bay doors she shoots me a very encouraging thumbs up and a ‘call me!’ While I wait for him to leave. I don’t have to wait much longer. 10 minutes pass before I see him walk out, backpack slung over his shoulders and thick winter jacket thrown on like it’s armor. He doesn’t turn his head to look at me as he passes.

I parked at the very end of the lot today, hoping to use my car as an excuse to follow him for a bit. As we approach my green Honda CRV, I know it’s time to bite the bullet.

“Hey, uh, Robby? Can we talk for a sec?” He pauses, takes an AirPod out, and turns to face me. He looks like shit. Tired, like he hasn’t had a good sleep in weeks. I feel mean for thinking it, but I’m glad he’s getting just as much (little?) rest as I am.

“I’ve got somewhere to be, Iris. Now’s not a good time.” He may be facing me, but he’s not really looking at me. Fucking infuriating.

“It won’t take long, please. It’s kinda important.” Fuck him for making me plead to have a conversation - this is starting to feel a little humiliating. I can feel the tears forming and threatening to spill out, but he isn’t looking at me so he doesn’t see them.

“Not now. There isn’t really anything for us to talk about. I have to go, I’ll see you later.” And with that, he’s got his AirPod back in and is walking away. Fucking dick. The hot sting of rejection sits heavy in my chest, and I have to take a few minutes before I feel steady enough to drive home.

I work myself up pretty well on the way home, moving from shame to anger. I kick my shoes off in the entryway and slam my bag down, feeling like I need to scream. I decide a run will suffice and quickly change into my running gear. As I slip on my shoes and grab my running belt I decide there’s something I need to do first, and pull my phone out to send the riskiest text I’ve ever sent.

Iris (7:58pm)

Hi, asshole. I have been working up the nerve to talk to you for weeks, but since I apparently don’t deserve even five minutes of your time I guess this is how you’re going to find out.

I attach a picture of the tests and hit send, and then immediately send a follow up.

Iris (7:59pm)

Before you have the fucking audacity to ask, yes it’s yours and I’ll be keeping it.

I immediately put my phone on do not disturb and start my watch so I can track my run. I hit the pavement with a vengeance. My feet feel heavy beneath me, and it takes me longer than usual to feel warmed up enough to really run. I blast my angriest playlist, and run until I no longer feel like murdering the father of my unborn child.

I hit my favorite smoothie place on my way home, and call Dana as I walk and warm down.

“So I told him.” She gasps. “But, uh, over text. I tried to talk to him as he left but he blew me off and I was just so fucking angry and maybe jumped the gun a little, but it’s done now. I went for a run as soon as I got home, I’m walking back to my place as we speak.”

“How are you feeling about it, hon?”

“Terrified. Have not checked to see if he’s responded. Maybe a little elated? But like, in a manic way so maybe that’s not a good thing.” Dana laughs and reassures me.

“It’s alright, kid. That’s a big step you just took and you tried to do it in person, so fuck it. You want me to come over?” She asks, just as I turn the corner onto my street. My heart all but stops as I see an unfortunately familiar suburban parked in front of my house, and my breathing stops with it when I see that the man himself is sitting on my front steps.

“Oh fuck.”

“He’s at your house, isn’t he?” She’s far too smart for her own good, or maybe she just knows him too well.

“Yup.” God dammit, past Iris. Did you really have to send those texts?

“I can still come over if you want.” Seriously considering taking her up on that.

“No, I’ll handle him. But, maybe later? If and when I need to cry about this?”

“I’ll be waiting by the phone. You’ve got this, kid. Give him hell.”

[princesevsnape]

Our Girl

Requested by @nottsbabe

Pairings: Mattheo Riddle x Reader, Theodore Nott x Reader, Mattheo Riddle x Theodore Nott

Summary: You arrive back to your apartment you share with your boyfriends after a night out with Hermione and Pansy. Your boyfriends take care of you. (Set post Hogwarts)

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, oral (f & m receiving),

A/N: Thank you so much for your request darling. I loved writing this so much. I’m sorry if this is not the way you wanted the smut to go, this is just the way my brain works sometimes and it turns out different than expected. I hope you like it either way. 💜

You stumbled through the door of the apartment you shared with your boyfriends.

“Honeys I’m home.” You slurred before falling flat on your face.

“Princess, how much have you had to drink?” Theo asked you as he turned you over.

“Not much. Only a little bit.” You said laughing.

“Mattheo get here now.” Theo shouted.

“Ouch no shouting. Head hurts.” You said.

“Bloody hell. How much has she had to drink?” Mattheo asked as he noticed you on the floor your head resting on Theo’s lap.

“She says only a little bit, but I reckon probably enough to knock out a Hippogriff.” Theo said.

“I thought we told Pansy and Hermione to keep an eye on her and not let her drink so much?” Mattheo asked.

“Not there fault. Mione had to go home to Won Won. And Pans was distracted by a man hitting on her.” You said before suddenly laughing.

“What’s so funny Princess?” Theo asked confused.

“Won Won.” You said before chuckling again as you remembered the nickname Lavender Brown used to give Ron when they dated in your sixth year at Hogwarts.

“Ok let’s get her to bed. Grab her legs Mattheo.” Theo said.

“Why do I always get the legs?. She always kicks me.” Mattheo said frustrated.

“Well maybe next time when she comes home in this state after a night out with Pansy and Hermione, you should come to her first. As I’m always the first to make sure she’s ok when she comes in you get the legs.” Theo said.

“Fine.” Mattheo said.

Mattheo and Theo, carried you to the bedroom. They placed you down on the bed that the three of you shared.

Theo helped you remove your makeup and brush your hair. And then Mattheo helped you get changed into your pyjamas.

“No sex?” You asked pouting.

“Not while you’re in this state princess.” Theo said.

“I’m not in any state Mr Nott.” You said.

“Yes you are darling.” Mattheo said sitting on the bed next to you tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“No I am not Mr Riddle.”

“Princess yes you are. You call us Mr Riddle and Mr Nott when you’re drunk. We aren’t going to take advantage of you like that. You’re vulnerable right now. We love you too much.” Theo said joining you on the bed as well.

“I’m fine.” You said.

And to prove you weren’t as drunk as they thought you were you pushed yourself off of the bed and stood up. You took a few steps and then fell down on the floor. The second you hit the floor you were fast asleep. Ok maybe they were right but you wouldn’t remember this in the morning.

“For fucks sake. She never listens to us does she.” Mattheo said as him and Theo picked you up off the floor.

They tucked you into bed, shed their own clothes until they were in just boxers then joined you in bed. One either side of you.

You stirred in the middle of the night. Looking at the clock it was 5am. Technically morning but still early enough that you should be asleep. You were now surprisingly sober.

You looked at both of your boyfriends. They were both sleeping soundly. Unfortunately you had woken up extremely horny. You considered your options. Play with yourself. Wake up one of your boyfriends. Or wake them both up.

You didn’t have to decided since you felt Mattheo stir next to you. Looking over at him again, you saw that he was now awake.

“Hey baby.” He said with a smile on his face as he saw you.

“Hey Matty.” You said running your fingers through his hair.

“Someone’s sobered up.” He teased.

“I have. But I’m so damn horny.”

“Well baby. I can help you take care of that.” Mattheo said before kissing.

As he was kissing you Mattheo slipped a hand inside your pyjamas shorts. You gasped as he stroked your pussy. His fingers were cold.

“Fuck baby you’re so wet.” He said as he continued to rub your soaking wet core.

“Shall we wake Teddy?” You asked.

“No baby we shouldn’t disturb him. He was stressing out the whole night you were out with the girls. He was worried about you.”

“And you weren’t worried about me?” You asked.

“Of course I was but I know nothing bad would have happened to you. Theo is a little bit more stressed out about things that probably won’t happen. He can do with the rest.” Mattheo said.

“Ok Matty.” You said

Mattheo slipped a finger into your tight pussy making you groan.

“Fuck feels so good.” You said as he started rubbing your clit at the same time as his finger pumped inside of you.

Mattheo kissed your neck.

“Fuck I love you so much baby.” Mattheo said smirking against your neck as he felt your walls clenching around his fingers.

“I love you too Matty.” You said your breathing getting heavier.

“You’re such a good girl for me aren’t you baby.”

“Yes. Please Matty I need you. I need your cock inside me.” You begged.

“Patience baby. And I don’t want you cumming until I tell you to.”

“But I’m close.” You whined.

“I know baby. Hold on a bit longer.”

“Please.” You begged.

Theo stirred next to you. He must have heard your whines. He looked at you. Mattheo’s hands down your shorts. You a moaning mess.

“Where’s my invite?” Theo teased.

“Thought you could do with some extra sleep, since you were so stressed about our girl last night.” Mattheo said.

“Still would have loved to have been woken up.” Theo said as he looked at you.

“Then please join us Teddy.” You said.

That was the only thing Theo needed to hear. He grabbed your face and crashed his lips against yours.

“I love you Teddy.” You said.

“I love you too princess.”

“Let’s get these clothes off you baby.” Mattheo said as him and Theo stripped you of clothes and then of their boxers.

Mattheo went back to stroking your clit, as Theo took one of your nipples in your mouth as he pinched the other between his fingers.

“Feel how wet our girl is.” Mattheo told Theo before kissing you to stifle your moans.

Theo reached down between your legs to feel how soaked you were.

“Fuck Princess.” Theo said smirking.

“Please I need one of you to fuck me so bad.” You said.

“Patience baby. You’ll get what you deserve. You just need to be more patient.” Mattheo said.

“But Matty.” You started to say before you were interrupted.

“Ah ah ah Princess. You heard Mattheo. No whining and you’ll get what you want.” Theo said before kissing you.

Theo moved down the bed so he could position his head between your legs. He spread your legs and buried his face in your pussy.

Your heart started racing as his tongue circled your clit.

“Fuck.” You moaned grabbing a handful of Theo’s hair holding his head in place.

“Feel good baby?” Mattheo asked as he started tweaking one of your nipples between his fingers.

“Yes Matty.” You cried out as Theo continued to lick and nibble at your swollen clit.

“You love when Theo eats your pussy don’t you baby?”

You couldn’t get any words out as you felt your orgasm getting close, so you just nodded.

“How badly do you want to cum?” Mattheo asked as he noticed your breathing getting heavier.

“So bad.” You managed to squeal.

“Then cum for us baby. And then I will fuck you.” Mattheo said kissing you.

That was all you needed. Your thighs started shaking, and you came hard. All over Theo’s face.

“That’s a good girl.” Mattheo cooed. Pressing a kiss to your forehead as you recovered from your orgasm.

Theo lifted his head from between and smirked at you. His face was completely soaked.

“Want a taste?” Theo asked Mattheo.

“Fuck yes.” Mattheo replied.

Mattheo then leant forward and kissed Theo. Tasting your juices on his lips.

“Damn she tastes good.” Mattheo said licking his lips after he pulled away from Theo.

“Our girl tastes perfect.” Theo said licking his own lips.

“I think you should be rewarded for making our girl cum.” Mattheo suggested.

“What are you thinking?” Theo asked intrigued.

“How about as Y/N rides me I suck your cock?” Mattheo asked.

“Would you like that princess?” Theo asked.

“Yes Teddy I would.” You said biting your lip.

“Then I’m game. It’s not like we haven’t done anything before. We’ve wanked each other before. I guess this is just the next step.” Theo said.

“Exactly. And if it will make our girl happy then that makes me happy.” Mattheo said.

It turned you on even more that your boys were willing to please each other for your benefit.

The three of you switched positions. Mattheo laid on his back, you straddled him, his cock buried deep in your pussy as you rode him. And Theo knelt on one knee, one foot flat on the bed, as Mattheo sucked his cock.

You squeezed your tits as you bounced on Mattheo’s cock. You bit your lip watching Theo’s facial expression as Mattheo sucked his cock.

“You like this princess?” Theo asked as he noticed you watching.

“Fuck so much Teddy. Do you like it?” You asked.

“So much.” Theo moaned as he bucked his hips to fuck Mattheo’s mouth.

You didn’t ask Mattheo if he was enjoying it, you could tell he was. From the way he was thrusting his hips to bury his cock deeper into your wet pussy. And from the way he was choking on Theo’s cock.

Before you knew it you were all cumming one after the other. First Theo cummed in Mattheo’s mouth. Mattheo swallowed every single drop. Then you squirted all over Mattheo’s cock. And then Mattheo filled your pussy up.

The three of you then collapsed on the bed. You in between your boys. The three of you sweating and breathing heavily.

“How do you feel baby?” Mattheo asked placing a kiss to your temple and wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“So good Matty.” You said.

“How do the two of you feel?” You asked.

“I feel good too princess.” Theo said resting his head on your chest.

“Good Teddy.” You said running your fingers through his hair.

“How about you Matty?” You asked.

“I feel good too baby.” He said smiling at you.

“Maybe another time I can fuck your ass Mattheo?” Theo asked.

“If it makes our baby happy then hell yes.” Mattheo said.

“Oh it will. I’m just glad you two are willing to try new things for me.” You said.

“Anything for you. We aren’t just dating you we are basically dating each other too. Might as well be intimate with one another as well. Don’t you think Theo?” Mattheo said.

“I agree.” Theo said.

“I love you Teddy.” You said.

“I love you too princess.” Theo replied.

“I love you Matty.” You said.

“I love you too baby.” Mattheo replied.

Shortly after the three of you fell back asleep cuddled up together.

[muttoncon]

i saw the vampire mel au someone suggested and i raise vampire frank for ur consideration. frank, on the verge of sucking patients dry, stealing blood from the hospital just to survive, seeing mel willingly donate her own blood during the mass casualty event? omg. freaked out vampire frank and unbothered ethical blood donor mel… this has been bouncing around in my head. hope u enjoy

i’m like a sleeper agent when i hear someone talk about vampires so this will be a looooooong ass post. however fair warning my bestie/old roommate is a huge horror fan so they have lowkey made me a lil toooo freaky abt vampires so like... teehee (quick shoutout to my health science bestie for helping me with medical shit)

mel finding out that frank is vampire and he's so fucking nervous about it but she's like "oh! you can just drink mine!" and of course he jumps to conclusion of drinking it straight from the source but really she's suggesting stealing blood donation equipment and just handing him bags. it's the safest option but... man did he wanna drink right from her neck smh

after doing a few quick google searches you can safely donate whole blood about 6 times a year (every 56 days) and they take about a pint (or 2 cups) of blood each time. i am of the freak variety that believes that vampires should also be cannibals. this will be important for later.

anyways! they continue this cycle of mel bagging her own blood for frank, him drinking just the bare minimum to keep himself going, and stealing a bit from the hospital to supplement what mel can't safely give. frank is... getting by. he's not doing great! but he's not starving so it's better than nothing.

mel, however, is constantly worried about him. he's told her before that he's basically only drinking the minimum amount of blood possible so that he doesn't die. she wants him to feel full, to feel good, not just fine. and she's lamenting about how she's so sad that she has a whole week of bleeding blood that isn't actually drinkable blood, because menstrual blood has uterine tissue and just ugh it's such a waste.

now frank has the option of either being a good guy and telling mel not to worry about him or admitting to her that vampires can eat raw human meat as well. he is a selfish, selfish bastard and decides to go with option 2. mel is delighted. the only problem being that period blood doesnt really store the same as actual blood, so frank has to be even more of a fucking weirdo and wait around (or sneak into) the bathroom with mel while she's on her period to take shots from her fucking diva cup. (god he just wants to eat her out but he's tryna be somewhat of a gentleman).

somewhere along the line they start actually dating. and that's really dangerous. because now he has access to her body in ways he didn't before. he can get close enough to her neck to smell the blood pumping through her jugular, can kiss up her arms and trace her cephalic veins, when he spreads her legs to eat her out he mouths over her femoral. just fucking torturing himself.

mel gets a little caught up in it all and starts letting him eat her out during her period. it's a nice way to ease her cramps and he looks really good with blood all over his mouth. she starts to really consider letting him drink from her arm (the neck is a little too scary). he's so considerate that she trusts he'll stop when she tells him to.

frank, once again, is selfish and ignores all the major red flags in this logic. it's like having sex without a condom, there's not a real difference in the feeling, but your mind tells you there is. blood is blood, but god does it taste better when he's sucking it from a live body.

so they decide to try it on a night where they'll both have the day off the next day. mel eats an iron heavy diet for a week in preparation (she'd started taking supplements when this all started but it never hurts to be extra prepared!), they buy new sheets for her bed in case it gets a little messy, and buy new cute band-aids to patch her up when he's done.

it's very romantic. they light some candles, frank made the bed so that mel is perfectly propped up against the pillows, she's dressed in a cute silk nightie so he has full access to her arms, he even gives her a nice massage so she's all relaxed. he's sitting next to her supine body, gently holding her arm up to his mouth, looking to her for one last confirmation that this is okay, and once she nods it's like he blacks out.

his teeth sink in and once mel gets over that quick shock of pain in her arm, she watches frank close his eyes and feast. now she's donated enough times to know that it usually takes about 11 minutes, but frank keeps going even after her little timer goes off. mel starts squirming a little but all that does is make frank bite down harder and fuck it's really starting to hurt. she's feeling faint and she keeps calling out to him but it's like he's in his own little world. small droplets escape the corners of his lips and mel is so fucking scared but she can't help but think that frank looks so beautiful.

all mel wants is for frank to be happy, to be well fed, and if that means she might die then she's okay with that. maybe it's this acceptance of death that wakes frank from his blood-drunk stupor -she didn't even say anything, just went limp and calm - but he extracts his fangs from her forearm in a panic. she's weak but awake enough to answer questions and softly smile at him. frank patches her up, makes her take a few gulps of a protein drink, and tucks her into bed.

frank decides that he'll stick to just drinking from bags. unless it's a special occasion, then maybe he'll bite (ba dum tshhhh)

[luna-azzurra]

I found your blog through Pinterest and I've never been happier I love everything you post 1000/10 💞

I wanted to ask if you have any advice on writing enemies to lovers, and specifically how to portray the shift in their dynamics when they're not quite enemies anymore but not even friends yet?

Hi dear! :)

THANK YOU. Like… 1000/10??? I’m saving that message forever in my little emotional support compliments folder. You’re amazing. 💖😭

Okay, now onto your question, because seriously, it’s SUCH a good one, and I actually scream internally whenever someone brings up the “not quite enemies, but definitely not friends” stage. Like, yes. YES.....

It’s such a weird little space to write, right? Because they’re not throwing knives at each other anymore, but they’re also not exactly sharing snacks and trauma dumping yet either. So what are they? Answer: confused. Deeply, hilariously confused.

They’ll do something kinda nice (maybe patch the other one up after a fight or defend them from someone else) and then immediately be like “don’t read into that” while clearly reading into it themselves. It’s like every act of kindness is followed by emotional damage control.

There’s awkward silences, but not in a cold way. More like… charged? They’re both sitting there pretending to be chill while secretly wondering, “why am I not trying to murder you anymore and also why is your face kinda cute?” And neither of them knows how to say any of that out loud without combusting.

Also, the insults start getting a little too playful. Not full-on flirting yet, but like… dangerously close. One of them will say something snarky and the other one will go suspiciously quiet because now they’re blushing and mad about it.

It’s honestly the most fun dynamic to play with, because they don’t even realize they’re softening toward each other until something big happens, and by then, we’re already on the floor sobbing over how far they’ve come.

Anyway, thank you again for being so sweet and for asking something that made my brain spin in the best way. You’ve got amazing taste (obviously), and I hope you write the most emotionally repressed, slow-burn disasters imaginable. I’ll be cheering you on from the shadows. 💌

[formulafanfics13]

Okay I am addicted on your and I can’t stop requesting! Can you write a super cute domestic fluff with Carlos? Maybe him and the reader chasing each other in their apartment, or cooking together ? you have such a way with words 💞💞

chase me, cariño - CS55

Masterlist

Summary: A lazy Sunday in Madrid turns chaotic and sweet in Carlos’s apartment — barefoot kisses in the kitchen, burnt garlic bread, tickle fights on the couch, and wine shared on the floor. He’s shirtless and smug. You’re trying to cook and failing miserably. Somewhere between laughter and slow dancing in the hallway, he asks you to stay forever — and you already were.

Warnings: fluff, established relationship, domestic intimacy, playful teasing, tickling, kitchen chaos, soft kisses, pet names, implied nudity, emotional vulnerability, romantic undertones, post-shower thirst traps, burn victim (garlic bread only).

Sundays in Madrid always feel a little unreal. Too golden. Too quiet. Too slow. Which is why you’re still barefoot and in Carlos’s shirt at 3:47pm, standing in his kitchen with a spatula in your hand and a suspicious burn mark on the garlic bread.

“Okay, that wasn’t my fault,” you mutter, waving smoke away from the oven. “You distracted me.”

Carlos, shirtless, smug, hair still damp from a post-run shower, leans against the fridge with one eyebrow raised and zero shame. “I only kissed your shoulder.”

“You bit my shoulder,” you correct.

He shrugs, walking over, placing a kiss on your cheek like he’s innocent. “It’s not my fault you’re delicious.”

You groan dramatically. “Stop being hot while I’m trying to feed you.”

“I’m always hot,” he deadpans.

You throw a tea towel at him. He catches it. Barely.

“Is this how you treat your chef?” you tease, turning back to the pan like you’re over it. “I slave away-”

You don’t get to finish. Carlos wraps his arms around your waist from behind and lifts you — lifts you like you weigh nothing, spinning you in a circle while you squeal and kick your feet.

“Carlos!”

“You’re my chef,” he says smugly, lips grazing your ear.

“You’re dead.”

The second your feet hit the floor, you’re running. Carlos blinks. Then grins. “You’re going to regret that, cariño.”

“Catch me first!” You dart into the hallway, laughing so hard you almost slip. Carlos follows like a fucking predator, feet silent, smirk audible.

“I swear to god,” you pant, rounding the corner toward the living room, “if you even think about-”

Too late. He tackles you onto the couch like it’s a mission. Gentle, but firm. Hands everywhere. Arms caging you in as you shriek and squirm.

“Carlos! No-no, not my sides!”

He tickles you until tears stream down your cheeks, until your laughter turns breathless and your threats turn pathetic. “Say you surrender,” he grins, hands relentless.

“Never!”

He kisses you. Hard. It’s stupid and messy and full of laughter, teeth bumping and noses squished and hands gripping t-shirts like lifelines. When he finally pulls back, you’re breathless. Boneless. Glowing. “You win,” you whisper.

Carlos brushes your hair from your face. “I always do.”

“Asshole.”

“My asshole,” he corrects solemnly.

You smack his chest. He doesn’t flinch. Just flops down beside you on the couch, arms still tight around your waist, dragging you with him.

There’s a beat of silence. Then: “The bread’s still burning.”

You bolt upright. “Fuck!”

He’s laughing again. Loud and gorgeous and slightly evil as you sprint back into the kitchen. You’re fanning the tray with a cutting board when he appears in the doorway, still shirtless, grinning like a menace.

“Too slow, cariño.”

“You’re banned from my kitchen.”

He walks over, grabs a piece of the bread, takes a bite. Chews thoughtfully. “…It’s not that bad.”

You glare. “Liar.”

“Okay, it’s bad. But you’re hot, so I’ll forgive you.”

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks are pink and your heart is warm.

You both end up sitting on the floor of the kitchen. Carlos brings over a bottle of wine and two glasses. You bring over the burnt bread and a bowl of olives. There’s a record playing in the other room, something slow and Spanish and old. Carlos knows all the words. He sings them quietly while stroking your thigh with his knuckles, like he can’t not be touching you.

“Wanna dance?” he asks after a while, eyes sparkling.

“We’re sitting on the floor.”

“Perfect height for my face to your boobs.”

“Carlos.”

“What?” He shrugs. “I’m romantic.”

You end up slow-dancing anyway. In the middle of the hallway. You’re still in his shirt. He still hasn’t put one on. His hands are on your hips, his forehead pressed to yours, and you’re swaying barefoot to a song neither of you knows the name of.

He kisses you once. Then twice. Then again. “Stay forever,” he says softly, brushing his nose against your cheek.

You hum. “Was planning on it.”

“Good.” He kisses you again. “I’ll buy more garlic bread.”

[letterlifter]

A Long Diary Entry About Me and Recent Events

I wasn't planning on posting, but now that things have settled a bit, maybe i've changed my mind .... i dont know ... i am a very quiet person online. but it turns out i have a lot to say right now. So maybe it's good to put out a little blog every once in a while. maybe this will prove to be unwise ...

Intro

this will be fairly personal and not professional and not well written, so please do not over analyze it or think too hard. i only have good intentions, i promise. im also not a very organized thinker so this might be a mess. being perceived anywhere makes me profoundly nervous, so if you misbehave, i will continue to cease existing publicly online, and i shan't perform for you again... *disappears in a mist*

ahem...herm...

*comes back on stage, taps mic... clears throat... straightens papers...wipes away my blackened, exploded hair...*

this will be a little look into my world, and very honest... maybe a lot of what i have posted previously during my time at clash was overly sanitized cause i felt like i couldnt say anything publicly without repercussions.

hi, i hope you are all doing well... im mail but i geuss you knew that already. i haven't been on the clash team since functionally early last year due to various medical problems. i prefer to keep all of these things to myself, but, i feel that it's relevant to mention.

i have disappeared everywhere because of all of the "stuff" going on with me. this may be the first time some of my friends have seen signs of life from me in months, and i am so sorry about that. i care about you and think about you often. social media is still difficult for me to use right now, but i am trying to get better with it, and this is a step in that direction, maybe…?

there's other factors to me leaving clash of course (some of which have been mentioned by former staff recently). It’s freeing to speak so openly about corporate clash, especially its internal workings, because I felt like i couldn't say much here while actively being on the clash crew. it's why "nothing i say is canon" is plastered weirdly everywhere. it was probably, mostly, just my own nerves getting in the way though

ok well i'm taking it back everything i say is THE COMPLETE TRUTH!!!!!!! (i am joking) what i will say is true is that whatever you headcanon about any character i designed gets my HONEST AND TRUE stamp of mailman's approval. i am reclaiming them (Jokingly) (Lovingly) so that you can have them instead (Telling the truth) i also have not played toontown in like two years. If someone says you're a liar you can screenshot this and said "Mailman said so" and I won't  care It's not like i'll be there. also i genuinely believe some of you are more qualified than me or anyone to speak on these beloved and often lgbt characters. Please consider yourself to be the only correct source of clash information from now on. i have no real authority here, but neither do they ... 'cause like what're they gonna do ....

Anyways Whew! Glad that's over! No offense i am just joking around...i went through a lot but overall, Clash changed my life for the better. in some ways i am a bit sad that this chapter of my life has ended. but i will always love toontown and gay furries forever and ever. i am so, so happy that people like what I have contributed so much to.

oh and of course, i agree with the statements from former staff. like 90% of them are my friends after all so maybe i am a little biased here... i prefer to keep personal matters to myself but i experienced a lot of trauma there. im sure it was accidental on the part of others and i would never blame just one person for it. theres something that is just foundationally not working with their structure and it is hurting people, and I hope they're able to mend whatever that is. i am sure you leaderships are reading this, so, hello, i hope you are doing okay. im sorry about how stressful this all must be and i hope things improve. its true that most of us 1.3 developers left, but for those of you who knew me on the team, hiii i hope you are well

but ummm hmm how do i say this.

*Gets a puppet out to speak for me so i can remain blameless for whatever information i say because it may or may not be true*

and i am just a little puppet after all, using comedy to deflect any accusations of personal wrongdoing.... But this is my theory.

Because it is not a professional project, corporate clash will always be ran by volunteers who have never worked on a project on this scale. I think this results in accidental mismanagement. It’s really difficult to run a volunteer video game like this when it isn't structured like a close-knit friend group. In fact, “volunteer video games” do not really exist in any other context, so there’s nothing to reference. The more people there are, the more they may get neglected. so, i am sympathetic about how difficult it is to keep this game continuing and to be a lead for it. Especially on volunteer time.

Who said that. Throw that freak in the trash.

BOOM...

...

...

*Mailman returns and is picking off pieces of garbage*

well anyways. you have to imagine this has been a really strange, difficult, weird, upsetting, past couple of weeks for me. Especially me, who really doesn't like being perceived at all, being perceived... the horrors... i am still trying to return to normal, but it feels like something has changed in a cosmic sort of way, and i cant stop feeling it.

Clarification

ive been thinking about whether or not to include this next section, but i have decided to do so as briefly as possible, because i feel like it is important for me to clarify it. this piece of context feels important to me. please be responsible with it, and please don't use it to hurt others.

as you are all probably aware, stuck the duck did a stream recently covering the statements made by former staff. of course i agree with former staff, as I am former staff myself and i share some of their experiences, and many of them are friends of mine. i think stuck is really cool and he is a very kind person.

at the end of his stream, a statement was made regarding a situation where i was allegedly receiving poor treatment from cranky during a severe bout of illness.

i was not involved in making that statement, it was based on someone else's perspective on how i was treated at the time because i do not remember the situation for myself. i was so sick that i do not really remember what happened in detail.

all i remember is really wanting to complete the illustration because it was important to me, i wanted the community to have it with its corresponding update. i feel like cranky's statement regarding it is probably more accurate to my memory but i didnt read it in detail because these past few weeks have been a little nerve-wracking. i have been told by others that the situation appeared worse than what I remember, but again I cannot verify any of this.

but with how hard i worked on that illustration through illness, i do think it was disappointing and a little hurtful to forget about it until one of my friends reminded them it existed. but i understand things slip through and i have also made mistakes. i truly don't hold grudges because i lack the emotion of anger. I just get really scared.... . i am not completely happy with how the picture came out anyways, but thats probably because i was so sick when making it ….

i cant say whether or not it's true, or if cranky's participation was somewhat exaggerated. i think as community lead (?) he was in control of its distribution though. the only part i can verify is that they didnt use it for a long time despite my working very hard on it. but things happen in development all the time, and i am not really interested or comfortable in being centered in this situation.. i actually do not really want to receive any attention at all but i would feel bad ignoring this statement.

but please also understand this. cranky may have made mistakes in leadership, and he may have hurt people, including my friends, but based on what i know, which of course is not everything, i really don't believe he's an evil person, and i would ask that you please do not publicly attack people you do not know. i believe that everyone working on clash has its best interests in mind, even if i don't agree with all of their approaches. they are there, working for free, because they care about it.

there is a difference between attacking someone and sharing information with others. this is just my perspective, but as ex-staff, we are allowed to speak on this because we knew them, and these are our experiences, i hope you understand where i'm coming from here. a game of telephone starts happening and dishonest things are said by mistake. it may be best to just link to an individual's statements. Please treat all clash staff fairly.

with all of this unfortunate stuff going on, i saw someone i do not know claim that some clash staff would make fun of me behind my back, which is sad if true. but i dont know if its true or not so i wouldn’t hold it against them. at this point i have grieved about clash over and over again so there’s not much grief left to have. I only mention it because i hope its not true, and i have no way of knowing, because for the most part, i like everyone at clash, and i just want whoever allegedly said those things about me to know that.

i am not perfect either though. i try to do right by everyone nowadays because it's all i can do. so of course i would forgive them immediately.

thats all i have to say on the clash situation. thank you for listening to us. many of us thought these stories would never be heard. so i appreciate you listening if nothing else.

Me and What I am doing Now

i always felt like i would have a lot to talk about once leaving clash, but i actually dont. i dont have anything to say that i, or others, havent already said. once again i agree with the majority of ex-staff / my friends, but im talking about even casual stuff about development or whatever. i dont think its all that interesting to people that weren't there, and i'm not interested enough in clash anymore to make posts about it publicly.

i would post my personal work to other accounts, that could be cool, but i don't have much to say, and Im not able to make as much stuff as I used to. … i also do not get anything out of seeing a big number (Likes Or Reposts) on my drawings. so id be posting maybe once every four months ... or once a year … i have really bad time blindness which doesn't go well with social media. maybe i'll get back into it anyways some day. it's theoretically possible that a few people would like to see my drawings, but yet i post nothing ever, and thats a little sad.

if i do make a brand new account, i will probably be stealing this url. Sorry for any potential confusion in the future.

most of the time i am just doing my own thing working on my original, personal projects. i really love my characters and i do a lot of stuff with them. i make comics, stories, drawings, 3d models. You know how it is ... im working on a 3d model right now that i will probably go work on after i post this. i plan on integrating the 3d model into a little website that tells you all about the character and i think that will be really fun. I love making interactive stuff with my characters. youll be able to rotate it all around and stuff. i definitely wont be able to do that for all of them though ...  i'm probably not capable of making as much stuff as i used to in general, but i am at peace with that.

i also plan on making this  next 3d model into a VRchat avatar (like i usually do) but this time hopefully itll be my "main" model so i can feel less embarrassed logging in to hang out with friends. maybe You and Me can play vrchat some day. i am really shy online though so we’ll see. anyways its going to be  a really cute dragon thing and i'm going to make it wear my clothes. i like to collect vintage clothing from thrift stores and i have an outfit in mind. He's actually just one of my regular characters that i turned into a cute dragon, but i'm forcing him to represent me for now.

umm what else has been going on with me ... i played a lot of "fantasy life i" recently. and deltarune. i watched a lot of deltarune theory videos on youtube. i watched a whole documentary the other day and i have memory problems so i only realized at the end that i had already seen it before. I recently customized my web browser and im using “zen” now its kind of cool. Just now, I wrote a lot about these two metallica concerts i went to a few months ago (after much preparation) but I decided to delete all the stories from it in favor of just mentioning that i went.

anyways. it probably goes without saying, but i am not a social media person, and i cannot make as much stuff anymore, so all the stuff i make now is either for myself or is for one of the various projects im working on.

i will now talk about one of the various projects im working on. this one isn't a personal project though because im making it with my friends, many of whom made up some very large slices in that 1.3 pie chart:

FriendOS

So. Of course i am still a game developer. i really love working on games, and i dont think that will ever leave me. 3d modelling and animation, making assets, and character design are among the many things i do and want to continue doing. i suppose you could just consider me the "lead 3d artist" for this project.

my main project is now "FriendOS", a really advanced furry character creator with 3d platforming and bullethell battles.

I mean, a 3d platformer with bullethell battles and a really advanced furry character creator.

our game has a lot of cool stuff in it. For instance, we put a lot of work into the really advanced furry character creator, ensuring that you can mix 'n' match whatever pieces you'd like. And this time it's fun

I will give you a rundown as quickly as possible before you lose interest.

in friendOS, you play as a "Friend". Friends are a species of "digital avatar" that navigate a world made to represent an operating system.

Friends are wild, technically indestructible, and poorly mannered creatures. We are still researching their natural behaviors, but we do know that a friend has never been reported dead for long. They cause problems, yet they are the problem solvers, tasked with exploring the deepest parts of a computer to cleanse it of its rotten, virus-infected core.

Within FriendOS, the computer is accessed via "Bliss", an interactive 3d interface known for its heavenly lands full of rainbows, flowers, and files. It is a safe pasture for which the friends shall graze. The residents of this utopian town are very curious themselves. I heard one of them claims to have been a racecar driver, but I think he's lying.

Astron is our beloved god dog. He takes out the trash and tells the truth

Who is this  and why is he doing that

This world is very real to the residents of "Bliss". There's a lot of unique struggles that come with knowing you are living inside of a computer and being okay with that.

So, you are running around inside of an old computer. It's a land full of mysteries, collectables, gay people, very customizable little friends, and minigames. Minigames including fishing.

Yes Everyone in this game is gay and no one is going to get mad at me for saying that. In what way they are gay is for you to discover or decide for yourself.

I would go into more detail, but we still have a lot to work on, so it will probably change a lot. However I encourage you all to roleplay in a lobby some day. It's really fun

if you're actually reading this entire thing and send me a suggestion with some type of item you think friends would look beautiful wearing, i can't say it won't influence me. which, thanks for reading all of this by the way, it's very nice of you. the way i have designed this 3d artstyle is so that assets can be created as efficiently as possible, considering our team is very, very small. its all round and flat so they can be made quickly.

it's so nice to work on a team where we really get each other. now that i think about it, we've been making games together for like four years. we are all very confident developers which makes us very efficient at making things. everything we do is highly collaborative and we're always listening to each other.

i have been working on friendOS for like 8-10 months and we haven't fought over anything this entire time. its so beautiful. im sure that we will continue to only ever agree with each other, our team will remain motivated, and nothing bad will ever happen.

If you are interested in following the development of friendOS, I encourage you to join the official friendOS discord server. We have a long ways to go, but it’s read only, so you can comfortably ignore it at the bottom of your server list for as long as you want!

Closing

there is a good chance i will not be very involved in toontown after all of this. Clash was a little traumatizing for me and my friends. at various points in the timeline, things happened that i cannot talk about. i was treated poorly, my friends were treated poorly, and i'm sure no one did it on purpose, but it still happened. things happened that made me cry on behalf of others, which i haven't told many people.

but you know... there isn't much more that i want to make for toontown anyways. i feel like 1.3 was already my "dream update." i'm uninterested in working on any toontown private server in the future because i already know exactly what i would be doing, and i have done enough of it. I appreciate the freedom i have in creating whatever i'd like. for both myself and friendOS, i can make whatever designs and items and characters i want, and that's really cool.

clash has taught me so much, and it has even made me grow better as a person, but i feel like i need to move on as an artist. i'm thankful for what i have learned there and I apply it every day.

i hope that doesn't make anyone sad, because it doesn't really make me sad. I think it’s an exciting thing. i will probably always be around in some way, and clash will continue on in whatever way it chooses for itself.

I have been into toontown since around 2007. as of 2025, i think thats like 18 years of my life. Jeez ... so i have watched this game go through "cycles" a few times now. the first time was when TTO closed. then TTR opened in like 2014. then everyone felt like it was dead again, and clash opened in like 2017, then they released 1.1, and 1.2, and somewhere in there, TTR released field offices. and now we're working on friendOS, which is not toontown, but saying we are taking zero influences from our previous work would be an obvious lie. ....honestly in some ways, it is too similar for comfort....

and now, with all this stuff going on, and all these things being said, people seem to be low in spirits again. so i will give you some words of encouragement as a guy who has played this game for far too long:

you have a lot to look forward to. i mean, you certainly have more to look forward to regarding this game than i did in 2015. clash has gotten through many "difficult" circumstances and it will probably have more. there were points during 1.3 where i didn't know if it would even come out. but they are still here working on stuff. and of course, there are other private servers too. i am sure EVH will put out something really cool. some of my friends worked on "grindworks" but i have not played it for myself. TTR is still working on their next thing i'm sure. the game will probably always exist in some way. toontown has a much bigger fanbase than many of the things i'm into, which is really kind of crazy!

yes, as that one blogpost article pointed out, many of us 1.3 devs are gone. clash still has a team full of new, passionate people working on future content and im sure they will continue to create cool stuff. i hope you will support whatever they put out just as passionately.

in all truth, i care about you all much more than clash. mostly the gay players, and the furries, and all the artists, and the few of you who draw sexy duck shuffler on twitter. but of course, i am biased towards my own kind. i too am just some gay artist on the internet. you are the people important here, who are keeping the game alive. so remember that your passion is what fuels your game (all of toontown) to continue. i have never, not for a moment, taken any of you for granted. i am just some guy so anyone interacting with stuff i work on is amazing to me. i hope im able to buy a keychain from you some day. i don't even know if its possible for me to see all the fanart of the characters i designed but i still love and appreciate it all. ive seen quite a bit though. including some i saw on accident that i dont think you wanted me to see. Sorry

and the creative team. i am by no means perfect and i make my share of mistakes as we all do, but i always did as much as i could. you guys are the best and your contributions matter. every asset you create will forever be a gift to clash from you.

There are many people i could list out individually to thank, but i wouldn’t want to miss anyone. Because of my spontaneous health problems, I never got to give a formal goodbye to the clash crew so i couldn’t say thanks to anyone myself. I suppose none of them really know how i feel about any of this in general…. So if you worked with me on clash, i think very highly of you to this day.

for now i will leave you with this.

i love you very much.

thank you for playing our game.

thank you so much for loving the characters i put so much of myself into. it has not gone unnoticed from me.

please continue to be kind to the volunteers who work on clash.

please thank the moderators who moderate corporate clash. They see *everything*.

please be kind to yourself, be respectful to each other, and forgive yourself, and just for me, remember the poor Parrots who are going extinct due to the destruction of their habitats and homes (They are my favorite animal) and adopt don't shop. thank you.

[joaosnovia]

Can I ask João something? Where the reader is disappointed with her brother for treating her badly because his girlfriend doesn't like her. So João, the reader's best friend, ends up helping her – he likes her – I don't know if that got confusing... That was the dream I had about him It was so cute and sweet, that I woke up bursting with cuteness!

love you girl 🫶🏻💞

ꨄ - 3005.

WARNINGS:: none?

WRITERS NOTES:: first of all my bad for this taking too long but IM DONE WITH EXAMS atleast! best believe all the fics remaining will be posted 🥰. also ive come to the conclusion that fics WILL be named after songs if i can’t find a good title

TAGS:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp @universefcb @mariejuli

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you’re sitting on the curb outside your house when he pulls up.

joão doesn’t ask questions. just parks, gets out, and sits beside you. hoodie low over his forehead, rings on his fingers, quiet warmth in the way he bumps your shoulder.

you don’t say anything.

not at first.

because how do you explain that your own brother, your built in best friend since diapers, has started acting like you’re too much, just because the girl he’s dating can’t stand you?

‘was it bad?’ joão asks gently.

you nod, eyes stinging.

‘he told me to grow up. said i make everything about myself. all because i asked if we could hang out for a little. just us.’

joão goes silent.

too silent.

then:
‘you know he’s wrong, right?’

you shrug, wiping at your cheek. ‘maybe he’s not. maybe i am too much.’

‘don’t say that.’

you almost laugh. not because it’s funny. because it hurts.

‘he’s my brother, joão. if he doesn’t like me, who will?’

he turns to you. fully. and it’s like the whole world stills.

‘me.’

you blink. heart stopping.

‘what?’

‘me,’ he says again, quieter now. ‘i like you. i always have.’

your lips part. nothing comes out.

joão’s hand finds yours on the cold concrete. his thumb brushes your knuckles like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

‘you’re kind. you’re loyal. you’re real. you care too much, which isn’t a flaw, it’s the best part of you. your brother’s lost in his own world right now. but i see you. i always have.’

your chest tightens. something sweet and unbearable rising in your throat.

‘why didn’t you ever tell me?’

he smiles, soft and sad.

‘because you always looked at me like your best friend. but tonight? i couldn’t just sit there and let you believe that you’re hard to love.’

you stare at him. warm eyes, hands on yours, like he’s been waiting for this moment without even knowing it.

‘you don’t have to say anything,’ he adds quickly, nervous now. ‘i just wanted you to know. you’re enough. more than enough.’

i see you. i choose you. always.

it’s just easier that way. soft little moments stolen in between life, his fingers brushing yours under the table, his voice in your ear when no one’s looking, his lips on your forehead when he thinks you’re asleep.

he’s gentle with it. with you.

like love should never have to be loud to be real.

and you’re so full of it, the quiet kind, that you don’t even care that it’s secret.

until your brother finds out.

it happens one weekend at a family lunch. you hadn’t planned on it. joão was just supposed to drop you off. but then your mom insisted he stay. and your brother, already moody, already attached to the girl who still doesn’t like you, was just… waiting to pick a fight.

so when joão grabs your hand under the table and you forget to let go?

yeah. game over.

‘are you serious?’ your brother blurts, eyes flicking between you two like he’s seeing ghosts. ‘you’re dating him?’

you flinch a little. not because he’s loud, because you weren’t ready for this to turn into a thing.

‘yes,’ you say quietly. ‘we are.’

he scoffs. leans back in his chair like it personally offended him.

‘you’ve got to be kidding me. is this some attention thing? or are you just trying to piss off my girlfriend?’

you freeze.

and joão, ohhh he’s already sitting up straighter.

‘don’t talk to her like that,’ he says, calm but sharp.

your brother narrows his eyes. ‘stay out of it, man. this is between me and her.’

‘not anymore,’ joão says, jaw tight. ‘you lost the right to speak to her like that the second you started choosing your girlfriend’s opinion over your own sister. and for what? because she’s kind? because she wants time with you?’

your brother’s mouth opens. then shuts.

you just sit there. stunned. breath caught in your chest.

joão turns to you, voice gentler now.

‘you don’t have to take this. not from anyone. not even family.’

and something clicks in your chest.

because for so long you thought standing up for yourself meant starting fights, or walking away, or crying in secret. but now, now there’s someone who looks at you like you matter. who backs you without needing to be asked.

you reach for his hand.

he squeezes it tight.

your brother is quiet for a while. then:
‘so this is serious?’

joão doesn’t hesitate.

‘it is.’

and you… you smile.

because yeah.

it is.

[hargreeves-duncan]

⎯⎯ I GUESS I’M IN LOVE

visual is for vibes only, reader’s appearance is nondescript!

pairing: mickey “fanboy” garcia x fem!reader

summary: in which reader learns how to love again when mickey garcia wants to be more than friends with benefits

warnings: mentions of sex/sexual acts, alcohol consumption

word count: 1.9k

a/n: the papasito mv had me wanting to write something for danny, so here i am, enjoy😩

You hated to admit it but you were a sucker for a man in uniform.

And, living in the big, beautiful city of San Diego, California meant that you had more than your fill.

With servicemen constantly cycling between deployments and training, you never had trouble finding a guy or two to fool around with before things even had a chance to get serious.

Not that any of them minded. After months at sea, they were just as insatiable as you were, never thinking past the night in front of them.

It was practically a fact: Navy men were notoriously disloyal, always chasing flings, and you had the firsthand experience to prove it.

When you’d first moved to San Diego, fresh out of college and still a little naive, you’d fallen hard for a naval aviator.

And it hadn’t ended well.

He’d promised to keep in touch when he was inevitably stationed somewhere else, and for a while, he did.

But the texts got shorter, as the days went on. Less frequent. Until one day, they stopped entirely.

You found out why soon enough via a blurry Instagram post where he had his arm slung around some new girl, down in Florida.

You’d sworn then and there to never fall in love with a military man again.

And it was going pretty well for you.

Until you met Mickey Garcia.

You’d met him at The Hard Deck - an aptly named bar always buzzing with chatter of swaggering servicemen.

He was surrounded by a gaggle of aviators, laughing loud like they owned the place. And in San Diego, they practically did.

In spite of that, every few seconds, he was glancing your way, lingering on your legs for far too long. God bless the Californian heat for letting you show them off.

You could tell that he wanted you.

And how could you not want him?

Broad shoulders, a neat buzz cut, and the Navy service khaki uniform hugging his body. He looked disgustingly good in it and your eyes drank him in from across the floor.

You bided your time, watching him play pool for a while before heading over with your own friends, sliding up to the table next to his.

When it came to your turn, you fumbled clumsily with the cue stick, missing shots and laughing with false embarrassment as your friends jeered. And like a moth to a flame, he took the bait.

With a smirk and a quick nod to his boys, tossing his own cue to one of them, he stepped up beside you and asked, “Ma’am, you need some help there?”

You didn’t need his help. You’d been playing since you were twelve.

But you had a read on the guys at this bar, they couldn’t resist a pretty girl pretending not to know her way around a pool table, so you let him move closer and asked more about him

You quickly learned his call-sign, and the meaning behind it, when he slid his arm around your waist and leaned in so close you could feel the warmth of his breath against your ear as he adjusted your aim.

He was all over you and you craved more.

Fanboy.

You were determined to make him a fan of you.

And it didn’t take long.

He bought you a drink, leaned in close to say things, he definitely didn’t need to be so close to say, and let his knee brush against yours with almost every word.

Even after you’d sent him back to his friends, with a playful order to “go be social”, he kept drifting back, always finding a reason to restart the conversation.

Eventually, the conversation stopped restarting, it just never ended.

He barely got the sentence out before you slid off your barstool, purse in hand, and slipped your fingers through his.

He grinned like the cat that got the cream, letting you pull him out of the bar like he was a lost kitten; only you could take him home.

Out in the car park, your eyebrows had shot up in surprise when he’d clicked his car keys and the headlights to a red Mustang had come to life.

Clearly, you were worse at profiling than you thought because this car did not match the image of Mickey Garcia that you’d built up.

He opened the door for you, guiding you down into the passenger seat before walking around to the driver’s side.

Sitting back against the headrest, you were about to give him directions to your place when he cut you off with a sly grin, turning the key in the ignition.

“I’m actually living off-base while I’m stationed here,” he’d explained, “I’m sure it’s quicker than heading to your place. Five minutes, tops.”

That was a refreshing change.

Most of the guys you’d been with insisted on coming back to your place, citing how you couldn’t get on base to theirs. Made you wonder how many of them were actually telling the truth versus those that just didn’t want you to know where they were staying.

You found yourself more and more curious about him. Mickey was honest and upfront. It felt treacherous to the image you’d come to know of a naval aviator.

For example, his call-sign. He hadn’t introduced himself as Fanboy, like some of the others you’d been with, who’d insisted you use their service-given nicknames, even in bed.

Despite that, you still couldn’t remember the blonde lieutenant from a few months back’s call-sign or even his real name, which told you everything you needed to know.

Mickey was different.

He didn’t disappear the next morning.

He stayed.

And kept coming back.

Once. Twice. Three times.

Until you lost count.

It becomes a rhythm: drinks, laughs, soft touches that linger too long to be accidental, late-night drives with the windows down and your legs propped on his dashboard, his hand resting dangerously high on your thigh.

A rhythm so steady, you almost forget how this all started with your personal vow to stay away from military men.

And then there’s tonight.

You’re back at The Hard Deck, dressed in something you only ever wear when you know he’ll be there.

A dress casual enough to pass for effortless, but short enough to make Mickey’s eyes drop from your smile to the curve of your thighs the second you walk in.

You’ve learned, over your more impassioned nights together, that he has a fixation with your thighs and you’re not above using that to your advantage.

Tonight, you’re on a mission.

He’s at the bar when you spot him, nursing a beer and leaning into a conversation with Coyote, but the moment he senses you, his focus shifts.

You don’t even have to say a word, just a look and a tilt of your head, and he starts moving.

He slides up beside you at the bar like he’s done it a hundred times before, the grin he gives you still feeling brand new.

“You gonna let me buy you a drink, cari?” he asks, voice low and familiar.

Cari.

Short for Cariño.

That’s something else that was different about Mickey.

He’d started calling you that after what you’d both agreed was the first of many “not-dates”. The nights together that felt suspiciously romantic but neither of you dared to define.

And unlike the ick most guys gave you when they got too familiar too fast, his little nickname for you made you feel warm inside.

You give him a look, smiling coyly, “Have you ever known me to turn down a free drink?”

He chuckles, flagging down the bartender with two fingers before leaning in, his arm brushing yours as he rests it against the bar, “Never. But I like to ask. Makes me feel like a gentleman.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, smirking, “I’m pretty sure that ship sailed the night you left a hickey the size of Texas on my thigh.”

He cringes, eyes flicking away from yours to focus on the bartender shaking up your drink across the counter, “Yeah, right.”

It was subtle, but you’d noticed it more and more lately, how he seemed to flinch at any mention of sex. It was strange.

When you’d first met him, he’d thrived on the crass nature of conversation. He’d whisper the filthiest things in your ear in the middle of the bar, so vivid you’d be squirming in your seat.

But lately, something was different. A shift in the way he looked at you. Like he wasn’t just watching your lips when you spoke but listening.

That threw you off, and you didn’t like to be thrown.

You sip the drink he bought you, letting the citrusy bite of tequila chase away the unease curling in your stomach.

“You okay?” he asks, quieter this time as he looks back at you. His eyes are on you, not your legs, not your lips, you. And that was the problem.

Your resolve was quickly crumbling.

You nod, deflecting with a sweet smile, “I’m just trying to figure out if I’m imagining things,” you say, keeping your tone light, “Or if you’re going soft on me.”

That earns a smirk, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m not going to apologise for it.”

He’s still close, his arm is brushing yours, his eyes are steady.

You set your glass down and lean in just slightly, “Mickey,” your voice is low as you test his name on your tongue.

His eyes lift to meet yours without a second thought.

“Yeah?”

“…What are we doing?”

The words hang heavily between you and you regret them the moment they leave your mouth.

You hadn’t meant to ask. Not really. You’d told yourself a hundred times not to ruin this with feelings but you’d asked anyways and you couldn’t take it back.

He doesn’t answer right away, and for a second, you feel stupid. Vulnerable. Exposed.

But then he sighs, like he’s been waiting for this conversation just as long as you’ve been avoiding it.

“I don’t know,” he admits, “Honestly? I’ve been trying to figure that out myself.”

You nod, swallowing hard, your lips pressing together in a thin line.

He notices.

“I just think that we both like being around each other,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “And I wouldn’t mind if things between us got serious.”

“It’d be difficult with me being away all of the time, but… cari, I really want this.”

You should roll your eyes. You should say something flippant and remind him that you don’t do relationships but instead, you only whisper:

“I know.”

A brief silence stretches between you.

Then, he steps closer, shielding you from view of the other servicemen as he slides an arm around your waist, trapping you against the bar, “You wanna get out of here?”

You raise an eyebrow, “To your place or mine?”

He smirks, “To talk, gatita.”

You blink, “Talk?”

The word shouldn’t feel so intimate, but somehow, with Mickey, it does.

His hand brushes yours on the bar, “We can do other things later, but, yeah. Talk first.”

You shake your head, laughing under your breath and pulling your hand away, “Jesus, who are you and what have you done with the Mickey Garcia I met at that pool table?”

He looks slightly hurt, but he doesn’t give in just yet. He takes your hand again, “He’s still here. He just wants a little more from you this time around.”

You turn to face him fully, and this time, when your eyes lock, you don’t feel like running. He’s completely serious, holding your gaze and looking with a determination that feels like he knows you, soul and all.

You want to say no, but you don’t.

Instead, you simply nod once.

“Alright,” you say softly, “Let’s talk.”

And as Mickey takes you back to his place, to talk, not fuck, for the first time in a long time, you feel loved.

[cook-a-little-chicken]

That Agent and Supervillain scene was so sweet, and we got some of the best acting I've ever seen from AJ!

^ Acting-wise, yes I think it might be for AJ, and Sam was an amazing foil!

And I could tell Tom really enjoyed it too! We might've gotten a record number of audible Tom laughs in a scene, with 10 in under 6 minutes!

Some of my favourite moments (specifically with the tone of voice and expressions):

"I see you've fallen into my little trap"

"it still excites me each time. How am I going to get you this time?"

"confusing I know"

"I'm not obsessed with you"

"how come you don't follow me"

"I did like a fire emoji, the other day" + the glint in his eye as he said that

"you made me a collaborator on the post"

"I've actually deleted it. I just- It's not good for my mental health"

"You've changed my name every time. You don't even know my name!"

"you're not even like on my top five nemesis" [gasp of pain and betrayal] "I have tried to do the vorst things just to get you to come and haunt me down"

[tearfully] "I was just trying to get your attention"

"I don't give a fuck about- he's not hot. He's like "oh!", you know, it's- no"

AJ's quiet little "uhkay"s

the whole pre-hug bit

Tom's face after AJ's "one hug and then that's it. And then- I promise, you'll never see me again"

AJ's desperate whispered "please"

the gentlest hug from AJ

Also, I can't explain it, but the little "uhkay"s that AJ does after "it's too much. you're right" sounds so similar to how Sam said it in a livestream from home, which AJ found funny and repeated. I have no clue which livestream it's from and this is such a vague clue that I doubt anyone will get it but I'll just put this out there-

And here are some nice parallels with Thirsty Vamps!

starts with Sam being held captive in AJ's lair

it's later revealed that he was caught on purpose

AJ is confused by the name he's given

AJ starts off as this evil villain but turns out he's slightly whiny and desperate for love and attention

one-sided gay attraction (love how we've been given both Sapphic and Achillean versions, and both are masterpieces)